One month became two, two became three, and before Marik and Bakura had even half processed the changes in their new lives, a whole year had passed by since Bakura had been yanked from the shadows. To say that it had been difficult to keep up with was an understatement, but both parties had settled reasonably well – or as well as they could, given their tendency to argue about everything - into living together as a proper couple.

The apartment that they rented out was on the top floor of a small tower block, and didn't cost too much on a monthly basis. Yugi had finally moved in with Ryou, and given their house's close proximity to the apartment, it was common for the four of them to be flitting between households or crashing there for the night after a day of gaming and drinking. Occasionally Jonouchi, Honda, Mai and Otogi came by as well, and Marik and Bakura had managed to establish semi-cordial relations with them all in between yet more arguments, but on the whole, friendship wasn't feeling so overwhelming for the couple anymore.

Marik had made good on his suggestion to take classes. After gaining some qualifications in several core subjects, as well as starting to learn English with Ryou and Bakura's help, he managed to enrol on an undergraduate course in Egyptology. His fluency in Middle Egyptian as well as being able to read and write hieratic, hieroglyphs, Coptic and Demotic left an astounding impression on the head lecturer at the local university, and he had been accepted onto the course quickly. The day after he had received his unconditional offer, he had come home from an impromptu shopping trip with Ryou to find the apartment cleaned from top to bottom, champagne chilling on ice, a three-course dinner cooking away, and a rather sheepish Bakura blushing violently and dismissing his efforts as "no big deal, shut up already." Marik had barely managed to hold out the entire meal, and as soon as the plates had been cleared, he had dragged Bakura to the bedroom to show him just how much he appreciated him.

The day had been a busy one for Marik. He had only been on campus for half the day, but Ishizu and Rishid were due to visit later on, so he had spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning and baby-proofing the apartment. Nefertari had begun taking her first steps and Marik had it on good authority that she was "getting into everything," as Rishid put it, and generally being a cute and curious nuisance. There were far too many sundries lying around that she was likely to grab, pull onto herself, or eat, and Marik ended up on his hands and knees, imitating his niece as he looked around at her level for anything she might be able to get her hands on.

"You know, there are easier ways of saying "do me, habibi,"" came Bakura's amused tone as he trailed in from the kitchen to see Marik peering under the sofa with his pert backside in the air. The former thief looked a lot more like his original self now that some time had passed since his return; his hair had been cut shorter and dyed a pale grey, and since discovering that sunbeds existed, he had taken to visiting the local parlour every so often. Having emerged from the shadows with Ryou's ghostly pallor, he wasn't willing to risk tanning to extremes, but he now wasn't far off Marik's own colour, something that suited him immensely and gave him a healthy-looking glow.

Marik responded to Bakura's comment with a raised middle finger, then reached out with his free hand, locating a knight from their chess set. Bakura raised an eyebrow at his find. "Thank fuck for that. I've been going nuts trying to find it."

Marik withdrew into an upright position and shook his hair out of his face, handing the carved wood to Bakura. "Make yourself useful and put that somewhere my niece won't find."

"Ugh." Bakura stuffed the piece into the pocket of his jeans, then ran a hand down his face, sighing. "Can't I just escape to Ryou's for the day? I can't be fucking bothered with your sister's endless questions and her shrieking womb spawn."

"No. I haven't seen them since I moved here, and Ishizu was worried enough about us shacking up together, so the least you can do is show her that this wasn't the stupidest idea of our lives."

With a groan, Bakura sank down onto the sofa. "Sometimes I think it was. You and your family are such pains in my ass."

Marik smirked, instead shuffling closer and toying with Bakura's zipper. "You love the pain in your ass, Kura."

"Marik – "

"I think you need sweetening up." Marik's busy fingers got to work unbuttoning and unzipping. Bakura's mouth opened slightly as if to protest, but when Marik brushed his hand teasingly up his clothed shaft, all that came out was a gasp. Marik freed Bakura's cock from the confines of his jeans and boxers, glancing up at him with an assertive look in his eye. "Be a good boy for me, habibi, and I will pleasure you beyond your wildest dreams later tonight. That I can promise you, but only if you behave when my family are here."

The sultry tone of voice made a shiver run down Bakura's spine in response. He hated to admit it, but Marik's soft commands really turned him on. So he grinned, and nodded, and shifted his legs apart a little wider to give Marik room. Marik chuckled, leaning in closer and ghosting his breath over the head of Bakura's cock. Bakura screwed his eyes shut, hands clenching the sofa cushions. "Don't you fucking dare tease me," he hissed out.

"Hush," Marik whispered, kissing up Bakura's thigh. Pointedly ignoring the rapidly swelling arousal of his lover, he trailed his kisses round to Bakura's stomach, pushing the fabric of his shirt upwards to access the ripples of ab muscle Marik loved to lavish his adoration upon. Not for the first time, he said a silent prayer to the gods above that Bakura had started going to the gym. Not that he hadn't been gorgeous to begin with, mind, but Bakura's sudden interest in his body and wanting to take care of it was something Marik found endearing and incredibly sexy.

Marik's fluttering kisses made their way back down Bakura's other thigh, and he rewarded his patience by brushing the pad of his thumb gently over the head of Bakura's shaft, which was already beginning to leak in his pent-up excitement. Bakura squirmed and swore under his breath in response, frustrated with Marik's slow pace and ridiculously horny and silently begging for him to carry on teasing, because both of them knew it would only intensify Bakura's climax when it came. "Gods damn you," Bakura groaned, and Marik laughed softly against his warm skin. "Fuck, dammit Marik, please – "

Marik never could resist a "please" from Bakura. Finally, fucking finally, Bakura thought, Marik dragged his tongue up the underside of Bakura's straining erection before dropping his mouth down almost all the way to the base. Bakura threw his head back with a low cry of joy. Marik's mouth was heavenly, the perfect amount of heat and wetness, and gods, that tongue, that fucking talented tongue that drove him absolutely crazy night after night. He felt Marik's hands stroking him as his mouth worked; cupping and gently squeezing his balls, sliding down to play across his entrance, nails scraping a tantalising tingle down the inside of his thighs. It drove Bakura wild with lust.

Marik withdrew a moment and wiped his wet lips. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

Bakura's response was to tackle Marik to the carpet and slam their mouths together as he tugged on Marik's belt. Their hips rolled, rubbing their stiffened cocks together and drawing gasps and sighs of pleasure from both young men.

"I'm plenty sweetened up now," Bakura smirked against Marik's lips. "I'll behave today, but I do expect a very thorough payment…don't disappoint me, Ishtar."

Marik couldn't respond with anything other than a muffled moan as Bakura kissed him again, hard and passionate. His hands scrambled to help Bakura undo his belt, but before Bakura could so much as touch the first button on Marik's jeans, the intercom rang loudly.

"You have to be fucking kidding me!" Bakura shouted, shoving himself away from Marik. Scowling, he yanked his own jeans back up and stalked over to the intercom while Marik rolled around, helpless with laughter. Bakura jabbed a button on the wall, took a deep breath, and muttered, "who is it?"

"Bakura? Is that you? It's Rishid and - "

"Oh, hey. Sixth floor, number 18." Bakura buzzed them through and leaned his head against the door with a groan. "Why the fuck are they here this early?"

"Sorry, habibi," Marik murmured, pushing himself to his feet. He crossed the room to Bakura and slid behind him, wrapping his arms round his waist and nibbling the side of his neck. "You, uh…wanna go and take care of your little problem before they get up here?"

Bakura shook his head. "Just the thought of seeing your sister again has made me flaccid."

"She isn't that scary."

"Sisters are always scary. I know mine was." Bakura grinned, turned his head to peck Marik's lips, then slipped out of his embrace to dart back into the kitchen. Marik heard the kettle start to heat up, and he couldn't help but smile.

Ha, you homely son of a bitch, Kura.

"I never thought I would see anything like this in my entire life," Ishizu murmured in wonderment as she leaned against the kitchen counter, mug of tea in hand. Rishid stood beside her, nodding, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.

Marik looked up at them from the table and smiled, knowing their eyes were on Bakura. He was hiding away in the living room, sketching, with baby Nefertari sat at his feet. Marik could hardly believe how much she'd grown since she'd been born, and how noisy she was, squealing excitedly as she flung her toys about. Bakura scowled every time she squealed, but he peeked down at her every now and then to check on her, and when she picked up one of his pencils and stuck it in her mouth, he took it from her with minimal grumbling, whilst passing over a sheet of paper for her to tear into tiny shreds. She laughed as flutters of white stuck in her hair and scattered the carpet, and Marik nearly hit the deck in shock when he saw a faint smile light up Bakura's face.

"So how have you been, Marik?" Ishizu asked. "Are your studies going well?"

"Amazing," Marik beamed, "absolutely amazing. I finally feel like I'm doing something worthwhile! I think my lecturers and cohort find me pretty fascinating, given our family's past, so I'm forever being asked questions, but you know what…I like it, it's nice." Marik stared down into his mug, watching the ripples in the black coffee as he tapped his fingers along the polished ceramic. "I thought I would hate being the centre of attention that way, but it feels like they're genuinely interested in me, not just squeezing all the info out of the funny foreign boy so they can complete their assignments quickly."

"We're very proud of you," Rishid murmured.

"Aw, thanks, Rishid. Means a lot to hear you say that."

Rishid sipped his coffee with a hint of a smile, looking about as pleased as he could do, given his stoic nature. "You have changed even more than when I saw you last."

"Oh?"

"Mm. I daresay it has a lot to do with him." Rishid pointed into the living room; Bakura had put his sketchbook aside and was lying on his stomach on the floor, watching Nefertari crawl around. "He's changed too."

That's for sure, Marik thought to himself, and not just because he's got a tan and darker hair now. Ishizu was nodding in agreement with Rishid, admiring the way their daughter seemed to have taken an instant liking to Bakura. "I will admit, I was extremely worried when you first moved," Ishizu said. "I know you are an adult, and you can look after yourself, but still…knowing you were getting yourself involved with Bakura…I wanted to be happy for you, and I was, yet still, it was difficult to forget everything that had happened in the past. Marik, I am so very sorry. I can see now that I was gravely mistaken about him. I doubt you require my blessing, but you have it, if it is any comfort to you."

A flutter of joy made Marik's heart leap, and he got up from the table to throw his arms round his sister, hugging her tightly. "Don't make me cry and smudge my kohl," he sniffed.

"Oh, Marik, please don't be upset." Ishizu patted his head affectionately.

"I'm not upset, I'm happy. I'm glad you accept him, and us."

"Why would I not? You love him, and he makes you happy. That's good enough for me." Rishid nodded at her words, ever the quiet one, but his brainwaves might as well have been Ishizu's, such was the synchronicity of their thoughts.

Before anybody else could get emotional, a panicked shout rang out from the living room.

"Nefertari-Rose Ishtar, get down from there this instant!"

"Oh dear," Ishizu laughed, separating from Marik.

I can't believe he remembered her full name, Marik thought with amusement.

Barely a second later, Nefertari screamed, making everyone jump. Bakura appeared in the doorway, the baby girl sat on his hip and sobbing loudly. "She fell off the coffee table," he muttered, raising his free hand to rub the red mark on Nefertari's forehead. "Took my eye off her for a second and – " He narrowed his eyes at the Ishtar family; Ishizu staring with an astonished expression, Rishid chuckling, Marik blushing violently. "What the hell are you all staring at, you morons?!"

Ishizu touched Rishid's arm and smiled up at him, then walked over to Bakura, taking Nefertari and cradling her to her bosom. Then she leaned in and kissed Bakura's cheek. Shocked, he held a hand over where her lips had touched, blinking rapidly. "I'll feed her, that should calm her down," Ishizu murmured. "Would you prefer if I went somewhere private?"

Bakura rolled his eyes. "I'm three thousand years old, woman. How do you think I was fed? Feed her anywhere you like, I've seen it all before."

"Thank you." Smiling at Bakura, she breezed past him into the living room, where she sat down on the sofa to nurse Nefertari.

Bakura looked from Marik to Rishid, to the floor, then back to Marik. Marik could see straight away that he was starting to freak out a little. Playing happy families must be more difficult for him than I imagined. Did I push him too far?

"Are you…feeling okay, love?" Marik asked him in slow, thoughtful English, stumbling over his words slightly. His siblings wouldn't understand him.

Bakura frowned. "I'm fine," he replied curtly in the same tongue, turning on his heel and stalking from the room. Their bedroom door slammed shut a few moments later.

"Everything alright?" Rishid asked Marik.

"Yeah, don't worry. Just a bit out of Bakura's comfort zone. He'll probably go and work on his canvas or something."

"Are we making him uncomfortable?"

"No, more he's making himself uncomfortable. It's been a long time since he's had to deal with any family that wasn't his own."

"He is very taken with Nefertari."

"You think so?"

"Oh, yes." Rishid's eyes sparkled with fatherly pride. "But don't worry, I won't tell him that. I know it would embarrass him."

"Damn, Rishid, sometimes I think you know him better than me."

"You and he are more alike than you would think, Marik."

"Somehow I don't think that's a good thing."

"I doubt you two would have fallen in love if it had been any other way."

He's…he's right. Wow, I never thought of it like that.

Later in the evening, Nefertari had been put down on the sofa to sleep, and Bakura had emerged from the bedroom after several hours of alone time, smudged with oil pastel as usual and his hair in disarray. Marik had ordered takeout, and indicated Bakura's food as he trailed in, looking wary. "Thanks," he whispered, keeping his eyes averted from Rishid and Ishizu.

"Busy at work?" Ishizu smiled at Bakura as he sat down on the floor beside Marik.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Tell me about your art. Marik tells me you have quite the talent."

Bakura glared at Marik for a moment, who just giggled. With a sigh, Bakura poked at his food with his chopsticks. "I started doing it when I moved in with Ryou. I was bored, and wanted something to do with my hands, and had too many thoughts floating around my head that I needed to express somehow. I knew Ryou had some canvases and oil pastels lying about, so I stole them and started doing whatever came to me."

"Would you call it painting, or drawing?"

"Painting, I guess? They're just little sticks, but I'm not drawing with them."

"And what do you paint?"

"Memories from my past life. My dreams. Still life. Anything that takes my fancy." Bakura waved a hand at the wall behind them, where Marik had hung one of his works a few months ago. It depicted Bakura's ka, the pure white, serpentine Diabound. "Marik says it might help me come to terms with everything that happened. I think it's bullshit. I just like doing it."

"No, it makes sense," Ishizu interjected. "It must have been traumatic for you, to go through what you did as a child."

Marik bit his lip, hoping that Bakura wouldn't come out with one of his usual acid-tongued replies. For a moment, he looked as though he might, but then he shrugged and began eating. Smiling, Marik squeezed Bakura's free hand in thanks.

Rishid got up from the end of the sofa to look at Diabound, a slightly surprised expression gracing his usually set features. "I read about this as a child," he said quietly. "Bakura, have you considered that your artwork could be of significant value to Ancient Egyptian study?"

"Yeah," he replied gruffly. "Marik's already had to fend off a few admirers at uni, so my name's known now. When Marik mentioned about the paintings, the head lecturer asked if he could meet me to discuss my knowledge."

"Have you met him yet?"

Bakura shook his head. "I don't know if I…it's…"

Ishizu smiled sadly. "You want to keep those memories to yourself. They're precious to you." Slowly, Bakura nodded. "Of course, that is understandable," Ishizu told him gently, her voice soft and tender and so fucking sisterly, why? Don't treat me like your family, woman! "…But know this, Bakura…nobody can take those memories from you. No matter what you say, or do, or paint, those memories will always be yours and yours alone. You have a gift, and a unique insight into life as many of us will never know. You have already begun sharing that gift through your paintings, so what harm could a little more sharing do? I think I can vouch for Rishid and Marik when I say that our family, as involved with the museum and Egyptology as we are, would much appreciate the contribution to our work and legacy. However…ultimately, it is up to you."

Marik found himself nodding and smiling at his lover, agreeing with every word his sister said. Bakura has been through so much in his life. For all that I suffered with my own childhood and my initiation, I can't even begin to compare it with the trauma and agony he has been dealt. If it's too much to ask of him, I'd never push him, but I hope he realises that he could do so much for our field.

As Rishid returned to his seat, Bakura looked to Marik as if for support. This time, Bakura was the one to initiate intimate contact, grabbing for Marik's hand with both his own and leaning in close, overwhelmed and unsure of what to do. Marik brushed his lips over Bakura's brow while raising his free hand to stroke Bakura's wild mane of hair. "Take your time," he murmured in gentle Middle Egyptian, hoping the sound of Bakura's native tongue would soothe him. "Nobody is making you decide right this very moment. Take your time, Bakura."

"Marik…"

Bakura looked so lost and vulnerable at that moment that all thoughts of modesty and discretion went out of the window. Marik cupped Bakura's cheek and pressed their lips together gently, needing Bakura to know that he wasn't alone in his struggle. To his surprise, Bakura responded with a soft, needful whimper, his grip on Marik's hand tightening and his body trembling.

Rishid touched Ishizu's shoulder, making her look away from the touching scene before her. "I think we've given Bakura enough to think about for tonight. We should go now."

"Yes, I believe you're right."

Marik broke away from Bakura and beamed at his siblings. "Thanks for visiting, guys. It's been amazing to see you again. I've got the day off tomorrow, if you want to meet up again. Just give me a call and we'll arrange something."