Chapter Two
Bakura stared at himself in the mirror. He looked absolutely ridiculous. And for another thing, he had absolutely no clue how to get the shoes on. He sat on the edge of the tub and attempted to lace the ribbons around his ankles like he'd seen actual ballerinas do.
How do they dance in these?
Finally lacing the pointe shoes, Bakura turned to the mirror and glared daggers at the leotard and tutu. He didn't understand why he had to wear this. What kind of entertainment could this possibly be? Bakura hoped that Marik wouldn't make him try to dance in this. Bakura shuffled to the door, pretending not to see the hair elastic that had been in the bag. There was no way he would lower himself that far. He was thankful there was no makeup in the bag. Or panties. Or a bra. That would really suck.
Walking back into the room with a bit of a waddle, Bakura fixed cold eyes upon Marik who sat upon the bed. Bakura placed his hands on his hips.
"Are you happy? I look like an idiot!" Bakura cried. Marik simply smirked. Atem entered the room at that moment.
"I'm done," he said lifelessly. He rested his eyes on Bakura and burst into hysterical laughter. "Bakura…you look like an imbecile!" Bakura gave him a death glare.
"Shut it, pharaoh!"
"Good boy, Atem. You can sit and watch Bakura entertain me now, if you like." Marik purred, eyes fixed upon his ungraceful ballerina. Atem quickly complied, taking a seat on the stool.
"Can't I take this off now? I mean…I did what you said. I put it on!" Bakura was a little bit nervous about what could possibly happen to him. If Marik thought making him dress up like a ballerina was entertaining, he obviously had a very sick mind. Marik's reply baffled Bakura.
"Did you put on the toe pads that were in the bag? The ones in the box?" He asked, lying back on the bed, arms behind his head.
"Uh…what? The little…pouch like things?"
"Yes, those. Did you put them on?"
"Uh…yes. Why?"
"Plié!" Marik shouted. Bakura jumped and did as the man said, bending his legs at the knee, knees turned outward. Atem was laughing hysterically.
"I don't like this," Bakura huffed. Marik glared at him.
"I didn't ask you if you liked it! Go en pointe!"
This demand puzzled the manly ballerina. "Excuse me?"
"Go. En. Pointe. Go up on your toes."
"Isn't that going to hurt?" Bakura asked nervously.
"Not if you put on the toe pads." Bakura siged and stood on the toes, eyes widening as he struggled for balance. "Don't come down until I tell you to come down, Bakura!" Bakura was whimpering, flailing his arms about for balance. Atem was highly amused.
"Can I stop?" Bakura wailed.
"Come down now." Marik said, nodding. Bakura let out a sigh of relief. "Now do a pirouette." Bakura stared at him blankly. "It's a turn, idiot. Atem! Demonstrate!" Atem glared, but stood and pointed his toe to the side, a perfect second position, arms out to his sides as well. He brought his right leg behind him, left bent in plié. He came up into relevé and brought his other foot into passé at his knee, turning perfectly. Bakura blinked blankly, then attempted the same, falling to the side and landing on the floor, once again the heap he was when he first got here. Marik stood from the bed to stare down at him. He shook his head, a grimace on his face. Atem looked utterly satisfied. Bakura groaned.
"Am I done?"
"You're done. I grow bored with your dancing. Bakura, can you cook?" Marik asked.
"Well…I can if I have a cookbook or something." The man replied, fixing his tutu without thinking. Atem looked once more out the window.
"You're in charge of dinner tonight. Atem, run my bath for me." Marik demanded, walking into his large closet. He returned moments later in a black bathrobe that came to his knees. He found Atem hadn't moved, nor had Bakura. "Bakura! Downstairs! Now! Get cooking."
"Can't I at least put some comfortable clothes on?" Bakura whined.
"No. I like you in that attire. Besides, what if you need to reach into some of the higher cabinets?" Atem laughed at Marik's joke. As soon as Bakura realized he was referring to using the pointe shoes, he glared and stormed out, tripping down the stairs. Marik turned his gaze on Atem. "My bath won't draw itself. Get to it." Atem bit back a snide comment, and retreated to the master bathroom.