It must have been almost two in the morning by now, and Bakura had still not returned. Marik had tried to sleep earlier, but after a few hours of flipping back and forth on his bed, he'd turned on the TV and tried to find something to watch. He was now mindlessly clicking from channel to channel, his thoughts less on the late night shows and more on the argument he'd had with Bakura earlier in the evening.

He was still reeling, his fingers drumming against the living room couch as he changed the channel yet again.

Frankly, Marik thought the argument had come out of nowhere. The choice he'd have to make between continuing to associate with Bakura and keeping his growing status at the museum wasn't something he'd thought about previously. Sure, now that Bakura had brought it up, the decision was logical. He wouldn't back out now that his future with the people of Luxor was looking so positive. He wouldn't give up everything he'd been working toward.

And still, he couldn't deny that a part of him shook at the idea of losing Bakura. After all, he would be giving up a friend. His only friend. The man who had stood beside him during the Battle City tournament, and the man who had been his companion in this apartment for months now. Without realizing it, Marik's heart nervously raced at that thought.

Finally, he gave up pretending to watch TV and left the living room.

So much of the apartment was littered with Bakura's things. As Marik walked toward the kitchen, he caught sight of Bakura's t-shirt splayed over the couch; on the kitchen table was Bakura's deck of cards, and on the counter was an unwashed cup that Bakura normally used. It was trivial to dwell on these things, but Marik couldn't help it. It was as though Bakura had rooted himself in Marik's life, and having to eventually lose that companionship was a difficult fact to stomach.

As Marik looked around the kitchen, he caught sight of the clock on the microwave display. It was past two-thirty in the morning already. Bakura should've been home by now. It normally didn't take him longer than a few hours to steal a token, and Bakura had been gone for most of the night.

A gnawing fear settled in the pit of Marik's stomach, and finally making up his mind, he grabbed the motorcycle keys from the counter, threw on his shoes, and left the apartment.

He'd been looking for hours when he finally saw a white-haired figure sitting on a bench by the side of the road.

He immediately brought his motorcycle to a halt. The white-haired man was leaning forward, resting his head in his hands. He didn't even look up when Marik dismounted and approached him.

"Bakura?"

"What."

Then Marik saw the blood.

Marik breathed in deeply, trying to slow the beating of his heart.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Bakura finally lifted his head. The glow from a nearby streetlamp illuminated the red slash above his left eye. "What's it look like? I got into a fight."

"What- how?"

"Trying to steal one of your damn tokens, of course."

"Well, do you- do you need to go to a hospital?" It was hard to assess the extent of Bakura's injuries in the dim light, but Marik could see the rips in his clothing, and the red stains splattered across his coat and jeans.

"I think going to a hospital is a little high-profile for someone trying to hide his existence."

Marik thought for a moment. "Well are you- are you going to be alright?"

"I'll live," said Bakura tonelessly.

Marik didn't think that was much of an answer.

"Look, can you- can you at least tell me how badly you're hurt?"

Bakura sighed. "It's nothing. The guy had a knife, but I don't think any of the cuts are very deep. Other than that, I got punched a few times and got my head slammed into a wall. I've had worse."

Marik suddenly felt angry, and he didn't know why. "And were you just planning to sit here all night? You didn't come back, I didn't know where you were-"

"I don't answer to you," Bakura snapped. "The guy knocked me out, and when I woke up, I found some place to sit and rest. Do I have a curfew now, or something?"

"No, I just- I was worried about you, and-"

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "Worried?"

"Of course, you're my best-" But Marik cut himself off when he saw the angry look on Bakura's face. "-best chance at getting into the tournament," he finished lamely.

There was a pause, and then Marik composed himself somewhat. "And we still have a deal," he said firmly.

"So you want me to go back with you," said Bakura dully.

"Well, of course!" Marik said. "What the hell else are you going to do?"

But Bakura only glared at him.

"Look, you're hurt," said Marik. "And even if you don't want to go to a hospital, you have to go somewhere to do something about your injuries. You don't have anyplace else to go."

Bakura still said nothing, and Marik clenched his fists, trying to tamp down his frustration. "You can't just stay out here all night...all of tomorrow...Bakura, come home."

Finally, Bakura rose from the bench, looking at Marik stonily. "Well, I suppose I have no other choice, do I?"

"No, you don't," said Marik. "And besides, once you're better, you still have more tokens to steal for me before our bargain is complete. And I assume you're not backing out. So let's go."

Marik got onto his motorcycle, ignoring the resentful look that Bakura was giving him, and motioned to the back seat. Bakura got on wordlessly.

"Try to hang onto me as tight as you can," said Marik.

Then they were off, and in almost no time at all, they were back at the apartment.

Marik unlocked the door and then stood aside, allowing Bakura to enter. Then he shut the door behind them.

"Alright, take your clothes off and go lay down on my bed," said Marik.

Bakura's eyes widened. "What?"

Marik stood silent for a moment before he realized what Bakura thought he was implying. "Not that, you freak!" Marik exclaimed, affronted. "You should lay down some place comfortable, because you need to rest. You probably have a concussion. And you need to take off your shirt and jeans so we can do something about your cuts. They need to be disinfected. I think I have some hydrogen peroxide in the bathroom."

Bakura didn't respond, but stumbled off to the bedroom.

A few minutes later, Marik came into the bedroom with a bottle of disinfectant and a wet wash cloth.

He climbed onto the bed next to Bakura and touched the cloth to one of the cuts on his arm.

"Ow!" Bakura narrowed his eyes at Marik. "I'm capable of doing that myself."

"I know, but you don't have to," Marik said, continuing to clean the blood off. "You should just rest."

Bakura snorted, but didn't argue further.

Marik slowly ran the cloth across Bakura's face, making sure to work carefully on each cut and bruise, and periodically poured more disinfectant on the cloth. Bakura didn't hiss or groan, but he immediately tensed whenever Marik washed the nastier, deeper wounds. As he worked, the white cloth became stained with the dried blood he'd cleaned off of Bakura's body.

After some time of silence, Marik asked, "You're not going to try to run off, are you?"

"I suppose not," Bakura sighed. "Like you said, I suppose I have nowhere else to go. And I won't back out of our deal. I'll stay until I'm finished stealing all the tokens you need."

Marik pressed a clean cloth into the disinfectant bottle and continued cleaning Bakura's shoulders and arms, which were significantly bloodier and more bruised than his face. It was really a pity seeing Bakura in this state, but Marik found that he didn't mind cleaning him up. He rubbed a few slow circles into Bakura's arm as if to comfort him as he pressed more hydrogen peroxide around his wounds, and Bakura's tense muscles seemed to unwind a bit.

Marik glanced down at Bakura, and found his piercing brown eyes staring back. Suddenly, something came to the tip of Marik's tongue.

"Hey, Bakura? I know you want to rush out of here as soon as you're done stealing tokens for me, and I do understand why you have to leave, but...do you think you could just stay until the entire tournament is over?" Before Bakura could answer, Marik went on quickly. "It would just be really helpful to me if you stuck around to help me practice until the end of the tournament. I'd really appreciate it."

Marik paused and looked directly at Bakura. "Please."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Fine, I suppose it won't make much of a difference in the long run," he finally said. "But you understand that when the last day of the tournament comes, I'm gone."

"I understand," said Marik.

Marik started cleaning the wound on Bakura's leg, working the cloth over the skin and taking care not to be too rough with the open cuts. Bakura was still tense, but it seemed like Marik's continuous movements were becoming more soothing to him, and he was relaxing.

He reached back to Bakura's shoulders, making another sweep across the wounds, and as he did so, he brushed his fingers against the soft skin. Sometimes, the paleness of Bakura's skin still surprised Marik, and he found the contrast between his hands and Bakura's shoulders to be fascinating. Before he could help it, Marik leaned down and brushed his lips against a bruise on Bakura's left shoulder.

Bakura tensed slightly, but Marik was undeterred. He propped himself up on his arm and bent forward over Bakura's face, leaning down until his lips were hovering over the cut above Bakura's left eye. Softly, Marik placed a kiss onto the cut, being careful to be as gentle as possible with the injury.

"What the hell are you doing?" snapped Bakura. "If you kiss me one more time, I will kill you. I will slit your throat and leave you bleeding on the floor."

Marik laid his head next to Bakura's, looking at him as he placed a hand on Bakura's cheek and brushed his hair back.

"It will be worth it," Marik said quietly.

Marik leaned forward, and then he placed a kiss on Bakura's lips, soft and lingering.

Marik opened his eyes in time to see that Bakura had closed his, and as he pulled away, he heard Bakura's quiet gasp.

For a moment, neither moved. Then Bakura's eyes snapped open and he shoved Marik away.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Get away from me!"

Marik just smiled. "I'll go try to find some bandages."

Marik gave Bakura another smile over his shoulder as he turned to leave the room.

When he returned, he threw the bandages on the bed, and started working on wrapping up the cuts on Bakura's arm and leg. Bakura sat still, his breathing more jagged now, and waited patiently. As Marik worked, his hands kept brushing against Bakura's warm skin, and he couldn't help caressing it as he tied the bandages.

When Marik's fingers swept across Bakura's torso, he reached down lower before he could help it, and smiled.

"Oh, you're hard," said Marik, running his fingers lightly over the bulge in Bakura's boxers.

"Well what do you expect?" Bakura said, defensive. "I'm practically naked and you're touching me!"

Without a word, Marik pulled Bakura's erection out of his boxer shorts and leaned down to kiss it. He took the tip into his mouth slightly, in a kiss that was affectionate and lustful at the same time.

Bakura's breath caught. "Are- are you really going to-"

Before answering, Marik licked across the underside of Bakura's cock and back again, running his tongue along the ridge, pausing in the middle to flick, drawing a gasp from Bakura.

"Yeah, but only because you're hurt," Marik said. "I know you're in pain and I want you to feel good for a while."

Marik then leaned down again and dipped his tongue into the slit, lapping up the liquid that was already leaking out. Bakura gasped again.

"Please don't tease me," Bakura said, breathless. "I can't take it right now."

"Alright," Marik said quietly.

He kissed the tip one more time, and then finally took it all the way into his mouth.

Bakura's breath instantly sped up as Marik licked the soft skin. He loved Bakura's reactions; he could never get enough of them.

Marik opened his mouth wider and slipped his tongue along each side of Bakura's dick, swirling around it slowly. Bakura's hands slid into his hair as he sighed and edged closer, pushing himself deeper into Marik's mouth. His breath caught as Marik started pumping at the base of his dick in time with the movements of his tongue. He increased the pace, sucking him in deep and swallowing more of the liquid that slipped out.

He felt Bakura lose control quickly. He quivered and moaned softly, clutching Marik's hair tighter as if trying to hold on to the moment. It seemed like all the touching Marik had done earlier had already gotten him excited, and he was close. And then, throwing his head back suddenly, he thrust once into Marik's mouth and finally came.

Marik continued running his tongue across the length, swallowing the come, and then drew back.

Bakura glanced down at Marik, still breathing quickly. "Thanks," he gasped.

Marik smiled, standing up. "No problem."

He gathered up the extra bandages and supplies he'd used on Bakura and placed them back in the bathroom. When he returned to the bedroom, Bakura was still lying in his bed, turned to the side with the blanket splayed over his bandaged body and already fast asleep.

Marik smiled.

He readied for bed, shut off the lights, and wrapped himself up in the edge of the blanket Bakura wasn't using. It was so late at night by now that the moment Marik's head hit the pillow, he went straight to asleep.

AN: We know some of you guys were anxious to see this chapter, so we hope you liked it! Thanks for reading, please review! So we have no idea what's going to happen for the next several chapters; we have to talk about it and plan it out. We do already know the end, though. We're curious, though- what do our readers think is going to happen in the end?