A/N: Here's another one. The inspiration obviously being the wintertime.
Thanks to: xXI. Hate. TwilightXx, Shadow of Untouchable Light, MaskYourSmile, Elle-L, and MalikXBakura for reviewing!
Title: Snow
Summary: Bakura comes to visit a certain Egyptian on a snow day.
Marik stared out the window as the fluffy flakes drifted down from the sky. The sun was peeking out from the clouds, making the snow already on the ground sparkle as if diamonds had been buried within the powdery substance.
"It sure is pretty," Marik remarked. He turned away from the window. "From the inside, at least." Marik had - accidentally - discovered just how cold the snow was when he had slipped and fallen into a snow bank after school one day. "Slipped" was incorrect; Joey had pushed him into it when he learned that Marik had never seen snow before.
Marik sat down on the couch, pulling a blanket over his legs. School had been closed due to the amount of snow. Odion and Ishizu were both working, so Marik had the place to himself. Well, except for Ishizu's cat, but that creature wasn't really company.
Bored, Marik picked up the remote and began surfing through channels, looking for something remotely interesting to watch. Nothing was on, except for the news and a few gushy soap operas all about love, heartbreak, deceit, teenage pregnancy, blah, blah, blah.
With a groan, Marik dropped the remote. He had stopped surfing on some talk show, by the look of it. Four people sat on chairs on a stage. A middle-aged, bald man was talking to a young girl about twenty. He seemed to be giving her some kind of advice:
"Now, Tammie, you need to find some way to escape without using drugs. You're hurting yourself, you're hurting your kids, you're hurting your husband..."
Marik watched with disinterest for a few moments before turning off the tv. He never quite got the point of those weird talk shows. It was probably just an excuse for the guests to say that they were on tv.
"Stupid publicity hounds," he muttered, stretching out on the couch and getting comfortable. A sudden knock at the door made him jump. Grumbling under his breath, he got off the couch and looked out the window to see who it was. Raising one eyebrow, he answered the door.
"What are you doing here, Bakura?" he asked the second the door was open. Crimson-tinged eyes rolled.
"Well, there's a warm welcome," a heavy English accent snarled. The albino at the door pushed his way past Marik, into the house.
"I don't recall inviting you in," Marik said, closing the door. Bakura glanced at him, a smirk adorning his pale features.
"Considering that the front door has been closed, my guess is that you won't be asking me to leave anytime soon." Marik's face flushed as he realized Bakura was right.
"What are you doing here, Bakura? Don't you have your own house?"
"Yes."
Bakura sat down on the couch, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes.
"Please, sit down," Marik said dryly. Bakura cracked open one eye, still smirking.
"That sarcasm of your is quite a problem, isn't it?"
Ignoring the comment, Marik sat down next to the whitette.
"If you have your own house, why are you here and not there?"
"Ryou's decorating for Christmas. It's driving me nuts. I never understood the point of this whole 'Christmas' thing. Apparently, it's supposed to be a 'holy' holiday, but at the same time, people are promoting stalking, breaking and entering, and stealing food."(1)
"Bah, humbug," Marik joked. Bakura grinned at him.
"You took the words right out of my mouth," he remarked.
Thinking his friend was teasing him, Marik rolled his eyes.
"Ugh, I wish I could give them back."
"Hmm...perhaps I'll just have to take them back myself."
"What-" Before Marik could respond, Bakura had leaned over and pressed his lips to Marik's.
The Egyptian teen's eyes grew wide. He felt frozen. After what seemed like an eternity, Bakura pulled back.
"There. I've got them back now," he said. He stood, stretched, and walked to the door. "Later."
Marik sat on the couch, stunned..
"What the hell just happened?" Bakura had kissed him. Bakura had kissed him. Just what was going on? Did it mean something? Or was it just one of Bakura's mind games? That was it. Bakura was pulling a prank on Marik, trying to get him worked up.
"Well, it isn't working," Marik said. "It takes more than...that to bother me."
Even so, he couldn't help but raise his fingers to his lips, remembering how nice Bakura's had felt against them.
The next day was Saturday. No school, Odion and Ishizu both at work, the middle-aged, bald man still giving advice to desperate people. Marik felt a serious sense of déjà vu.
"What's missing here?" he wondered as a knock sounded at the door. "Oh, that's right."
"Bakura," he said, answering the door.
"Marik," came the response. The albino brushed past Marik, his hand coming uncomfortably close to the Egyptian's backside. Marik felt a small flutter in his stomach and blushed, still clutching the door.
"Close that thing, will you? It's freezing in here." the irritated-sounding voice snapped Marik back to reality.
"Who are you to order me around in my own house?" he muttered, closing the door. He took a breath. Better get it over with.
"It didn't work, for the record," he said. Bakura looked at him, one eyebrow raised and a glint of confusion in his eyes.
"What?"
"What you did yesterday. It didn't work."
"Oh? And what, pray tell, did I do yesterday?"
Marik blushed. No way out of this one.
"You...you kissed me. And then you left. You were trying to make me mad or something, but it takes more than just that to get me mad."
"Or, really?" Bakura smirked and stepped closer to Marik, who involuntarily took a step back. "You seem awfully flustered to me, Marik."
"I-I am not flustered!" Marik protested, continuing to step backwards as Bakura advanced. "I-I think you should leave, Bakura."
"Hmm...I don't think so."
They both took one more step. Marik's back connected with the wall. Bakura was mere inches from him. Bakura put his hands on the wall, on either side of Marik's head and leaned in closer. Marik's heart started hammering, but he masked it as best as he could.
"Get away from me."
"Now, there's no need for that attitude, Marik-kun." Bakura smirked at the nervousness that flashed through Marik's eyes. "But, if you insist..." Bakura straightened up and walked into the living room. Marik, relieved yet puzzled, took a few deep breaths to calm his still-pounding heart and followed.
Bakura sat down on the couch. After a brief hesitation, Marik sat down next to him. Bakura draped an arm over Marik's shoulders.
"You seem nervous, Marik-kun," he teased. "Something wrong?"
"Get your arm off me," Marik muttered halfheartedly.
Why was Bakura doing all of this? Was he seriously trying to turn Marik on? It wouldn't work. It couldn't work. Marik was not gay! Wasn't he? Marik could never actually remember being attracted to a girl before. He found them to be obnoxious and usually tried to avoid them if at all possible. But Bakura was his friend! He couldn't-
"Marik?" Bakura snapped his fingers in front of Marik's face. "Did you even hear me?"
"Um..."
"What I said was, I wasn't trying to get you angry yesterday. I was tired of waiting for you to make the first move. It's obvious how you feel about me, and I feel the same way. It was easier for me to show you than to tell you."
Marik felt even more confused. "What?"
Bakura sighed. "You are thick. Did you know that? Here, is this enough of a hint for you?"
Bakura leaned forward and kissed Marik. Marik hesitated, but soon began to kiss back, allowing his eyes to close and enjoy himself. Bakura smirked when he felt pressure against his lips. At least Marik was responding this time. Eventually, Bakura drew back.
"Understand now?" he asked.
"N-not really," Marik admitted. "Why...?"
"You are such an idiot!" Bakura exclaimed. He leaned forward until his lips brushed against Marik's ear.
"Because I love you."
(1) You know it's true.
I had my friend proofread this for me, and when she got to the part where Bakura was called an "albino," she said, "Bakura's not an albino." And I said, "Yes he is, he's got white hair, red eyes, and really pale skin. That's an albino." She went on to say that albino's had white hair, pale skin, and pink eyes. Which is the same thing, but my friend's a perfectionist (which is why I love her, even if I want to kill her.) We argued about it, didn't speak to each other for a full minute (our longest silence yet) eventually apologized and she finished reading it. Call him what you want, I say he's an albino. If you don't think so, that's fine. "I disagree with what you have to say, and I will deny to the death your right to say it." ~ Get Fuzzy.
And yes, Marik was watching Dr. Phil. Mock me. I dare you.
R&R, please! (Sorry for this long author's note.)