Bakura drummed her fingers on the cold wooden desk, supporting her cheek in her opposite palm. She let out a pointed sigh, making her boredom no secret from the bumbling man sitting opposite her.

"I'm sorry, Miss Touzoku, I'm hurrying, I–"

She rolled her eyes. "I have a meeting I need to get to. Either you have my papers for me or you don't. So which is it?"

The man, a greasy looking, unattractive man in his early twenties with glasses slipping down his nose, hastily rifled through the unorganized looking briefcase in his lap. "I- they were here this morning, I d—"

"You're wasting my time," she sighed, standing and flattening the blouse hugging her slender figure. "It was just lovely speaking with you," she added sarcastically, smiling deceptively sweetly, "I'm sure we'll be in contact." And with that, she flipped her hair, grabbed her bag with long, white fingers, and all but glided out of her office.

The man's helpless sigh brought a grin to her lips. There was nothing she liked better than toying with men. Sexually, Emotionally, or just in every day instances like this, it gave her such a power rush. The man was supposed to have gathered blueprints and facts and figures of a building that had just suffered an electrical incident recently after being built. She was to use the figures to do research and see if the building was worth digging into.

Bakura was a journalist – specializing in exposés. Domino rarely had anything too good, so she was always dying to find something good. But her journalism position took backseat to her own personal amusements. The man's papers had indeed been there earlier. She had stolen them from his bag while he had excused himself to use the restroom. (Which he did several times during their meeting, he should get that checked out, she thought dryly.) Kleptomania isn't kleptomania if you're stealing it just because you find it funny.

She was also quite the compulsive liar. The meeting she mentioned she had needed to get to was none other than a date with Mr. Panera and his delicious bread-bowls. She strode purposefully down the street, her scarlet blouse's ruffles blowing about in the slight wind, and her cotton black skirt seemed to dance around behind her. She was quite a beautiful sight.

The actual walking in, ordering her favourite French onion soup in a bread bowl, waiting for her order, and sitting down at a table with her drink and food passed by in a bit of a haze. She was so used to the routine by now that it didn't even register. She settled down in a little booth in the corner of the restaurant, her favourite place to sit once again free. This was the best place to be, if you were a people-watcher. From the back corner, you are free to actively survey the areas and tables around you, watch people and analyze them, all without much possibility of being looked at yourself.

It was in such a position that she scanned each newcomer to the restaurant, sharp eyes catching every face. One face walked in that she recognized, despite the drugged mind-state she had been in on their first meeting, and the post-coital glow she had been in on the last. Tired looking and worn, the spiky hair and odd markings around his eyes were a dead give-away. Grinning at the familiar face, Bakura eyed him over her still-steaming bowl of soup, tapping her spoon on the bread idly.

He had his hands shoved in his pockets, a sign he didn't want to talk to anyone, and kept his eyes averted from those whom he had to speak with, like the cashier. He looked somehow uncomfortable and content all at once, with anti-socialism drizzled on top. Interesting. Not entirely different from the man she met, but certainly not the same.

He grabbed his order – a salad? Odd, – and entered the actual restaurant area, eyes downcast even while looking for a table.

Bakura couldn't resist. "Fancy seeing you here, eh?"

The man didn't look up at first, assuming she was speaking to someone else, but upon reiteration (louder this time), he looked up. Freezing when he recognized her, he then pulled a sour face and nodded curtly.

She laughed. "I won't bite, I promise. Not here, anyway~" she teased, folding her hands together and resting her chin on them. "Come sit with me."

Marik frowned, hesitating. "… Maybe some other time." Abruptly, he turned and walked away, to the opposite side of the restaurant and sitting down there to eat his lunch.

Undeterred – rather, amused and interested – Bakura gathered up her lunch and belongings, and followed right after him. She settled herself into the small, two-person table opposite him, grunting girlishly as she settled in.

Marik looked up with that same sour look on his face. "Do we really need to do this."

"Yes~" She grinned, wriggling into place. "I think it would be nice for us to have a little chat, don't you?"

"No," he said bluntly, leaning back in his chair and picking up his cup of coke with the tips of his slender fingers. "I would have been quite contented never speaking to you again."

"Oh, that hurts," she pretended to deflate and frown, a hand delicately raised to touch her chest, as if touching her wounded heart. "Here I am, being perfectly cordial, and you shoot me down like it's hunting season. Give me a chance, huh, handsome?"

He wrinkled his nose at the intended-to-be flattering comment and grasped his fork more tightly and speared some chicken and lettuce on the end of it, aggressively eating and saying nothing to her.

She took that to mean he was listening. Sipping her soup, she hummed, chocolate eyes studying him closely. "…So what's been wrong with you?"

Glancing up at her, Marik only quirked an eyebrow. "Wrong with me?"

"Yeah, Akefia won't stop whining about you," she rolled her eyes. "Quite annoying, really. So what is it that's so important you're sulking and causing my post-sex bubble of bliss to be punctured?" Humming nonchalantly, she ripped off a piece of bread and popped it into her mouth, eyebrows raised and eyes on him, expectant.

His hand stilled at her first sentence, but continued on after that as if nothing had happened. "What goes on in my private life really doesn't concern you, woman," he said lightly, almost conversationally.

She hissed and drew back her hand from her food. "Ouch! That was so cold it hurt." Bakura raised an eyebrow again, pursing her lips. "I suppose it doesn't, but when it affects my private life, we begin to have a problem, Sexy."

His eye twitched. "Stop doing that," he said with annoyance, lip curling.

"What? Using flattering names?" She grinned, mock-innocently.

"Ugh. Yes. It might flatter Akefia, but that's because he's an idiot. But just stop it. Yech."

She laughed again. "Whoo boy, you are one interesting fella. But fair enough, let's both cut the bullshit, hmn?"

His eyebrows pulled together, but nevertheless he said nothing, just going back to eating his food.

"Want to at least explain your beef with me?"

Scowling at his food, he thought for a moment, debating what – if anything – to tell her. "… I… did not take kindly to the overt preferential treatment you gave him over me. That's all." He shrugged. A half-truth, but not a lie.

"…" Smirking, she slowly raised herself from her chair, sauntering over to where he sat and standing directly behind him.

"What are you–" He blinked, uncomfortable with her standing so closely behind him.

"Shh." Slowly, her arms slid across his chest, smirking to herself. "I'm sorry. Is that all?"

'…. Slut.' Marik thought, repressing a shiver. He reached up with his own steady hands to pry hers off of himself. "Don't touch me. Yes. That's all."

Her eyebrows disappeared in her hair. She really must have pissed him off if he wasn't responding to an overt advance like that. Removing her arms from around him, she took a few steps back, swaying her hips as she made her way back to her seat. "Hm. So there's nothing I can do that can fix this, eh?"

"Nothing at all."

Nodding, she dropped the flirtatious vibe and settled on his obvious contempt for her. Whatever, win some, lose some. "Are you at least talking to him again?"

Marik nodded back. "Yeah. Last week."

"And?"

"It's really not your business what happened, is it?"

Lip twitching, she shook her head pityingly. "I suppose not."

Nose wrinkling, the Egyptian stood, packed up his salad, and grabbed his cup. "G'bye, woman."

"Bakura. And yes, goodbye." She smirked, a finger tracing the lid of her cup as she watched him. He didn't even look back at her as he strode out of the small restaurant.

'How amusing,' she thought, fingertips twirling around the ends of her hair. 'What a stick in the mud.'

BREAK

As soon as work ended, Bakura found herself settled in the back of a questionable looking cab headed towards her best friend's apartment. She picked at a loose thread on her blouse as she stared out the window at the other near-stationary cars in the heavy post-work Domino traffic. It hadn't been a particularly bad day, but nevertheless, it was never not a good idea to swing by Mai's place to chat and maybe drink. Though, she thought as she chewed the inside of her cheek, a good stiff drink sounded lovely too.

The car lurched slightly as they peeled up to Mai's apartment, tires complaining against the sudden stop. Bakura fished out a barely-sufficient sum of money and thrust it into the hands of the malodorous cabbie, quickly stepping out onto the street and slamming the door shut behind her.

Wind ruffled up her skirt as the car sped away, leaving her chocolate eyes to travel up the vast expanse of the upscale apartment complex, taking the time to really look at the building as well as inhale fresh air she had been badly craving in the small, foetid* cab.

Her heels clicked on the marble floor of the lobby as she mechanically pressed the elevator call button and stepped inside the box. Three others joined her: a businessman returning from work, and a mother and her child, tightly grasping his mother's hand and rubbing his eyes with the other. Bakura held back the urge to sneer at the companions – she really preferred to travel in enclosed spaces alone.

The mother and child departed first, much to Bakura's respite, leaving her with the businessman looking as worn out as a second-hand travelling coat. Her eyes darted to him and away again, knowing she could do nothing to nick anything off of him in the small space with mirrors on all sides.

The man gave her a longer sidelong look, tongue darting out to wet his lips. She almost shivered.

"Going home?" his voice was more present than his appearance would indicate, solid and deep. Confident.

"Visiting a friend, actually," she replied airily, eyes focused on the little number indicating what floor they were on. Still ten away…

"Lucky friend," the man grinned, shifting his weight.

"Mm."

"…Say," the man shifted once more, turning and looking at her completely. "Maybe after you're done visiting your friend, you might want to––"

Mercifully, the elevator 'ding'ed, and the doors opened to the interior of Mai's apartment. "This is my stop," Bakura said loudly, cutting him off and brushing against him as she made to leave. "Nice meeting you and all."

The man's last call never made it to her ears as she quickly stepped off and onto the hardwood floor of her friend's hearth room.

She shuddered as the elevator ascended, pulling out what she had thought to be a money clip she had taken from his pocket as she brushed by. But luck was not on her side- it was just a small container of mostly gone matches. Bakura sighed.

"Mai," she called, tapping her foot impatiently. "I need a drink, it happened again."

"Help yourself!" Mai's voice sounded up the staircase to Bakura's right, muffled slightly through a closed door.

Not having to be told twice, Bakura walked over to where she knew the alcohol to be kept, opened the door, and helped herself to some of the rum Mai had in her stock specifically for her friend with a palate for strong drinks. The sound of the bottle uncorking was music to her ears, and Bakura sighed as she inhaled the smell. Just what she needed.

"Anything else you wanted, besides raiding my alcohol?" Mai grinned, descending the stairs as the liquid washed into her mouth.

Bakura hummed, holding up a hand as she swallowed the burning liquid. "Mnn– No, not really." She grinned right back, folding one of her arms into the other holding her stubby glass. "Just wanted to stop by on my way home, maybe talk."

Mai shrugged, high-heeled boots clicking as she strode the linoleum floor to a mirror. She studied herself, fixing her hair as she answered. "What's there to talk about?"

"Well, you know that guy I had wrapped around my finger?"

"The big, handsome one? Oh wait, that's all of them." Mai grinned over her shoulder at Bakura, who winked. "The tan one."

She nodded. "He's been really… Whiny. As soon as he's got his boxers back on and settled in the sheets, he opens his mouth and starts to complain about this friend of his from the party."

"That's attractive," Mai sniggered, walking forward to sit on her couch. Crossing one leg over the other, she patted the seat opposite her for Bakura to join her. After replenishing her glass, she did just that, sitting with legs spread slightly apart – much less lady-like than her professional attitude.

"I know," she curled her lip slightly at the memory. "Think he's worth keeping around?"

"That depends," Mai sighed, an eyebrow quirking as she studied her friend. "Is the quick, good sex worth the whining? It would have to be pretty annoying for you to give up a man at your beck and call, rather than start from scratch… What is it he's talking about?"

Bakura shrugged. "His friend isn't talking to him."

"That's all?" Mai chuckled dryly, a single 'heh' escaping her glossy lips. "He seems a bit attached."

"Extremely. And it's only been two weeks now. Although…" She frowned, tapping her glass as she thought back. "I suppose when I'm really thinking on it, this last week he wasn't whining. He just shut down after sex. Stopped doing anything. Almost more annoying than the chatter, really, but still…"

"So?" Mai's eyes began to stray; she was losing interest.

"Well… I ran into his friend today. He seemed distracted and refused to talk about Akefia at all. They'd had a talk, but… Seems to me Marik was as tired and weary as Akefia was. Ugh," she scowled into her drink, taking another swig. "Honestly," she continued, once the burning sensation died down. "Usually men are so predictable and emotionless. These two are a couple of emotional pussies."

Mai chuckled on instinct, standing and wandering over to her stock of wine. "Let's watch a horror movie. You'll feel better after that."

Bakura's eyes shut and she nodded in thanks. "That sounds just the thing I need. Nothing like watching people get scared shitless to make you happy."

BREAK

It was much later that night after two horror films and two bottles of wine that a knock came to Akefia's door. Knowing it was most likely open; the slightly red-faced girl pushed the door and opened it, glancing around. "Oh Akefia~" she called, grinning and looking about the inside of the surprisingly dark ranch home. "Where have you gone off to?"

"Bakura?" A voice came from the rear end of the house, echoing in the empty spaces. He sounded off; distracted.

"Yeah," She called back, shutting the door behind her. "Is this a bad time or something?"

"No, no…" His voice was getting closer as his footsteps drew nearer, approaching her. Out of the darkness stepped the tall man, white hair seeming to glow in the dim lighting. "I had just … er, not expected you is all."

"Do you ever expect me when I just drop by like this?" She was frowning now, her arms crossing over her chest as she put all of her weight on one foot.

"… Sit?" He gestured a dark hand to the beaten-up and abused sofa.

Her contented mood spoiled, Bakura settled down on a spot with the least amount of stains or stuffing peeking through, and crossed one leg over the other. "If you're not going to kneel in between my legs, can this wait? I'm horny as hell and tipsy to boot, let's do this already."

To her further embitterment, he just settled beside her, frowning, eyes hard. "Bakura–"

"No," she sighed, falling to the side and resting her head in his lap. She looked up at him with a well-rehearsed pout, her lower lip trembling just slightly. "No talk."

The man sighed and cleared his throat, trying again. "B–"

She sighed more heavily, turning her face towards his crotch and letting a cold hand trace little circles on his thigh. The muscle twitched beneath her fingertips and she heard his breath stop. "We can talk later…" she promised sweetly, nuzzling her face full on between his legs.

It seemed to take a Herculean effort for the man to lift his own hands and guide her away, removing her hand from his leg and her head from his crotch.

"What is the problem?" Bakura huffed, suddenly extremely irritated and letting it show. "What is so important that it can't wait?"

Akefia shook his head, pushing her to sit up beside him and refusing to look at her. "We can't. Not tonight."

Anger flaring, Bakura's lip curled away from her pearly white teeth. "And why the fuck not?"

A tan hand lifted to ruffle the back of short white hair as the man paused, seeming to search for the proper words. "Er… It's just really not a good night for this. I've got a lot on my mind."

"You've had a lot on your mind for ages!" She scowled, grabbing his face to force him to look at her. "What is going on with you."

Shaking his head, Akefia looked at her with tired eyes, bloodshot. She hadn't noticed that before. "…Stuff's come up," he offered vaguely, chewing on his words carefully before saying them.

Temper flaring and desperation creeping into her stomach, Bakura grasped his hands and forced them up to her breasts, glaring at him with a look that would wither some away.

But Akefia held strong. After a moment where his fingers twitched, hesitant, he forcefully pulled his hands away. "I said no. You should probably go home. I can call you a cab if you want," he said, monotonous and distant.

"…." But before he could so much as locate his phone, Bakura got up and stormed out, slamming the door hard behind her.

BREAK

The man sighed, rubbing his face. The door slam reverberated in his ears for a few moments, during which he briefly debated going after the girl. But no, if she was going to sulk and be that way, he wasn't going to waste his time trying to reason with her. That was what she wanted.

He groaned to himself and stood, slowly and carefully walking back to his room. Sighing heavily, he re-collapsed on his bed, stretching out in the soft cotton sheets, so nice on his tired and worn back. He reached over after a moment of letting his muscles relax and retrieved his phone from his bedside table.

Almost sensing his hand, the device vibrated as soon as he touched it, the screen illuminating with a light so sudden it dazzled him.

"Akefia?"

Sighing again, Akefia's eyes closed as his fingers mechanically flew across the keys, typing a reply.

"Sorry. Unexpected visitor. Where were we?"

"Whether or not we should meet again tomorrow."

The corners of Akefia's lips pulled down slightly at this suggestion. It had been another week since he had seen Marik, but under quite different circumstances. This time the other was willing to talk to him, but the conversations were often… awkward. It is difficult to know what to do or say when your best friend says they want to fuck you.

He thought back to the last time they were together.

"So, let's… Talk," He had said after a minute or two of silence.

Marik said nothing. His hands fidgeted around in his lap, fingers twisting and untwisting in a nervous tick. It was quite obvious he was as uncomfortable as Akefia was.

"… Has it always been this way? Or is this … new?"

Marik looked as though he sucked on a lemon. "I… don't know. It's just been apparent to me the last week." Akefia was silent. "I have been denying it. But I may as well face it."

"…" Akefia pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what you want me to do, Marik."

Out of his periphery, he could see Marik shift a bit, a little further away from him. Akefia bit back a sigh. "… I don't want you to do anything."

"Yeah, you do." Frowning, Akefia turned his head to look at his friend, whose eyes were still firmly directed down at the floor. "Tell me… It's a perfect world; you can have and do whatever you want. What is that world like?"

Marik blinked, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. "What?"

"Just do it."

"…" Marik was silent, thinking. Akefia was sure he saw his face get a shade or two redder. "We… are back to normal. We hang out, we talk and text, we play video games and dick around together."

Akefia nodded, but Marik wasn't finished. "But at the same time… I want to have sex again. Even if it's just once. To see what it's like. Maybe I'm being an idiot, maybe I don't want to be with you like that at all and I'm misinterpreting something. Maybe you'd like it too if we did it and you're just denying it vehemently because you're so accustomed to thinking of yourself as 'straight'." He glanced at him again. "…Just once. Then we can see what happens after that."

"Marik…" Akefia started, but lost his nerve. He bit his lip, rethinking his words as he saw Marik shift again. "I don't know if I can do that."

"Please, Akefia. I don't want us to be this awkward forever. If it doesn't work out, I'll drop it, and you'll never hear from me on the subject again."

'That wouldn't change the fact that we'd done it,' Akefia thought almost bitterly.

"We'll… see, Marik, okay? We'll see."

They talked for several minutes after that about what that would entail, how the situations would go, but Akefia no longer cared to remember. He stared at the message on his phone. Was he ready to see him again, even if they didn't do anything? Could he handle that?

His phone buzzed again. "We can just play video games, you know."

Sighing, he nodded to himself. He was over thinking things. Marik was still Marik, his best friend in the world. That wasn't something you just throw away.

"See you at seven."

[[A/N: *foetid: The British spelling of 'fetid', meaning 'extremely unpleasant smelling'.

My classes now yield a lot of free time; I should be updating more frequently!]]