***Disclaimer - Thiefshipping lemon for the second half of the chapter.***

A gentle rap on the door interrupted their conversation. Ryo opened the door and saw Kek holding his stomach as red seeped through his t-shirt.

"I don't want to be human anymore." He looked sick and pale, except his eyes that glowed bright as dawn.

"Kek, you're bleeding a lot. Lay down." Ryo pulled Kek into the bathroom and situated him on the bathmat and pressed a towel to the spot where most of the blood leaked out.

Bakura sat on the counter to stay out of the way. Ryo suspected that Bakura remained because he didn't want to see Marik yet.

"I got sick on your carpet."

"That doesn't matter. It's fine." Ryo worked on treating Kek's laceration.

"He's only half alive," Bakura said, staring at the top half of Kek's chest still sown with thread.

"Not that I know how this works, but since you were born human it makes sense you changed into a living body all at once. I think Kek's . . . still getting used to it. This is the forth time he's bled tonight," Ryo confessed, looking up at Bakura with carob colored eyes.

Bakura stayed silent in thought, and Ryo concentrated on sewing and bandaging.

"He hugged me," Kek whispered.

Ryo blinked. "Marik?"

"Yeah, after I got sick, and then we cried. Humans are so damn weak. I don't want to be weak. I don't want . . . to need hugs."

"But deep down you want it all the same. Otherwise, you wouldn't be bleeding more."

"I liked it better when it was kissing."

"It takes all kinds of experiences to be human – good and bad."

"I know bad experiences, this was . . . something in between. I never knew you could feel more than one emotion at once."

Ryo rested a hand and Kek's stomach to comfort him. "It's usually like that."

"Too many." Kek squeezed his eyes shut tight. "There's too many things to feel to have to deal with them all at once."

"Shit," Bakura muttered the curse under his breath. "He really has changed, hasn't he?"

"Don't talk about me like I'm not right here, asshole."

"You've changed, too," Ryo said to Bakura. "Without the Ring."

Bakura shook his head. "Put the Pharaoh in front of me and I'd show you I haven't changed much. I'd do it all over again for another shot to destroy him, but that chance is gone and there's nothing I can do about it."

"But wasn't it Akhnadin that really burned your village?"

"Pharaoh is god in the eyes of his people."

Ryo nodded; he understood. He turned back to Kek. "All done. You'll be sore, though."

"Ryo?" Kek sat up, somewhat recovered from the onslaught of emotions. "Why can I feel more of my back than I used to?"

"Each time you become a little more real, you should feel more."

"No, I mean I feel more now than when I was in Marik's body." Kek reached behind him, trying to feel as much of his back as his fingers could reach.

"Your scars are smaller," Bakura said.

Kek stood up, wincing as he moved, and looked over his shoulder in the mirror. The scars formed the same pattern, but where Marik's rose thick above his skin, Kek's were almost invisible.

Ryo stared at the bathmat. "Marik didn't think it was right to make you have scars if you didn't have to, but I was afraid leaving your back plain would make it harder for your spirit to inhabit the doll. I sewed them in, but just enough for them to show. I didn't have the heart to make them as bad as Marik's."

"Even though I was a doll?"

Ryo nodded.

"Even though you were going to banish me?"

Ryo nodded again, looking up at Kek.

"Why did you care?"

"He always cares," Bakura answered for Ryo. "You should have figured that out by now."

"Why are you still here?" Kek glared at Bakura. "Go away."

Unlike Kek, Bakura's face didn't register any emotion as he stared at the bathroom door. "Has Marik calmed down?"

"Why are you asking me? I'm not Marik anymore, so I don't know."

"Kek." Ryo placed a hand on Kek's shoulder to distract the developing argument. "Go into my room and find another shirt that fits. There should be some in the dresser."

Ryo went back into the living room to find Marik. He didn't see him, but he heard noise in the kitchen so he followed the sounds. Marik had the kettle on the stove; he stared at it lost in thought.

"Hey," Ryo said.

"Hey. Don't worry, I already cleaned up Kek's mess."

"You didn't have to. I could have done it."

"No." Marik shook his head. "It felt like my responsibility." He offered Ryo a tired, vacant smile. "I didn't follow any of your rules."

"No, you sure didn't. Not that I'm not glad that they're here." Ryo sighed. "But it's going to be a nightmare trying to purify my apartment tomorrow."

"Need my help?"

"No offense, Marik, but you're not exactly skilled at white magic." Ryo thought for a moment. "Actually, there is one thing you can do. Come back here in the evening and take Kek shopping for some basic things. Clothes, a toothbrush, underwear, that kind of thing."

"Yeah, I guess they'll both need stuff." Marik's face twisted in an odd expression Ryo couldn't read. He went to the stove and poured hot water into two tea cups, bringing both himself and Ryo a cup of tea. "I guess he'll have to sleep on my couch."

Ryo frowned. "Why would you make Bakura sleep on the couch?"

"What? No, not Bakura – I meant Kek."

"Oh." Ryo laughed. "Don't worry about it. He can sleep in my guest room."

Marik set his cup on the table. "Like I said, he's my responsibility. It's my fault they're back."

"But your apartment is smaller, and I really don't mind."

Marik shook his head.

Bakura walked into the kitchen. "Let him stay here, Marik. I don't want him free-loading at our place."

"Our place? When did it become ours?"

Bakura sat on the table next to Marik, stealing the tea cup from Marik's hand and taking a long draw of the steaming liquid. "When you wretched me into the physical world – that's when it became ours."

"And when did my tea become communal property?"

Bakura smirked and took another swig before handing it back. "When you wretched me into the physical world. Everything you have is now ours."

"I didn't agree to that."

Ryo smiled. "Then you shouldn't have fallen in love with a thief."

Marik snorted, finishing the tea before Bakura had a chance to steal it again.

A loud yawn made Ryo realize how tired he was. "Okay. Even with us breaching the Shadow Realm and pulling them out permanently, as far as I can tell my apartment is fine. I'll purify it tomorrow to be safe. I think we got lucky." Ryo yawned again. "But I'm about to fall asleep."

Bakura shook his head and scowled. "You have a god's luck, Ishtar. That stupid little stunt you pulled could have brought Necrophades straight into Ryo's kitchen."

"You weren't complaining when I had you on the table."

"On the table?" Ryo whined. "That's gross. I eat on this table."

Bakura chuckled.

Marik stood and frowned at Bakura. "Shut-up and let's go."

Bakura flicked his hair off of his shoulder with a shake of his head. "What? You're not going to carry me bridal style across the threshold?"

"I'll send you back to the Shadows if you don't hurry up." Marik walked out of the kitchen.

Bakura and Ryo followed him. Bakura rested a hand on the jut of his hip. "An idle threat. You ruined your one and only chance to ever be rid of me."

Ryo caught the smile that brightened Marik's face at the thought. At the same time he also spied Kek asleep on the sofa and cocooned in Ryo's fleece throw.

Ryo smiled himself. "See? You guys don't have to worry about me. Look at him."

Bakura and Marik each made their own dismissive sound at Ryo's statement. Bakura flicked one of Marik's gold earrings. "I'm starving, Ishtar, take me home and make me breakfast."

"Like I cook. There are take-out menus on the fridge."

"Night, you two." Ryo waved.

Marik nodded at him. "Thanks, Ryo."

"Thanks for opening the gate to the underworld so you can get your true love out of the Shadows? Yeah, anytime."

"Don't make me sound like a princess."

Ryo laughed. "I should have put you in a pink dress. That would have been hilarious."

Marik laughed with Ryo. Bakura scowled. "Whatever. I'm out of here. I'm coming back for my cards later tonight." He went towards the front door.

"Wait for me, idiot. You don't even know which apartment is mine."

Ryo locked the door behind them. He dragged his feet to the couch and knelt in front of Kek. Ryo's hand moved on its own and smoothed the stray hairs out of Kek's face. He wanted to stay there, watch Kek sleep, but his eyes kept dropping closed and Ryo knew he needed to get to his own room. He leaned forward and gave Kek's lips a final kiss before he stumbled to his own bed as fell asleep as soon as he landed.

They argued down the hall, and in the elevator, and straight to Marik's door. Once inside, Bakura took a look around. A black, leather living room set rested on a large rug, fresh flowers sat in crystal vases, and Bakura suspected that the artwork on the walls were originals instead of prints. "You are such a pretentious asshole."

"What?"

"This place looks like it belongs to a mob boss."

"I was a mob boss. Remember, I ran the Ghouls."

"Yeah, but you're suppose to be a college student now. Hang up a poster, buy something from a thrift store. Be normal."

"Mmm-hmm. Tell me, when you were a thief, did you wear simple flax-cloth or dyed linens? That little figurine Ryo's kept all these years has a scarlet cloak."

"I bet your life is boring. Anyone that lives in an apartment this clean is boring."

"My life suits me well enough."

Bakura snorted and went to the fridge. "You weren't kidding. There's no food in here."

Marik smirked. "At least there's vodka."

"In a glass skull, no less. I can't say that you're not a man of priorities." Bakura reached into the fridge and pulled out a paper take-out carton. He sniffed the noodles inside.

"Probably shouldn't. I don't remember when I bought that."

Bakura frowned and sniffed the noodles a second time, tilting the carton left and then right as if scrying whether or not the food was still edible. "I don't see any mold."

"I'm not driving you to the hospital if you eat that and get sick."

"Maybe if I drank some vodka with it the alcohol would kill the bacteria." Bakura still held the noodles, but checked Marik's cupboards. A bag of rice hid in the corner under a layer of dust next to a tub of yam-yam. Bakura set the carton of noodles on the counter in exchange for the yam-yam.

"Oh yeah, I forgot I had that. Yugi gave that to me the last time we studied."

"Whatever, I'm too tired to be picky." Bakura put the noodles in the waste bin and opened the container of yam-yam. "Gonna give me a tour?"

"You've already seen half the apartment." Marik walked out of the kitchen and down a short hall. "There's the bathroom." He pointed, going into the other room across from the bathroom. "And here's the bedroom."

Bakura chuckled. "Even your bed looks pretentious. You really have the aesthetic values of a psychopath, Marik."

The bed was a four-post canopy carved out of teak with thick, violet curtains hanging from the top railing.

"Tease me now, but when I'm fucking you on that leather sofa you're going to appreciate my psychopathic taste in furniture."

Bakura gave Marik an evil smirk before diving through the curtains and flopping on the bed. He looked up and laughed, holding his stomach to keep his stitches from tearing. "Holy shit, you have mirrors. Really Marik?"

Marik stood outside of the curtains. Bakura watched his silhouette strip out of its clothes.

"What? They came with the bed. How do you like the sheets?"

Bakura slipped his hand under the comforter and purred as his hand glided over smooth, cool, satin.

Marik slipped through the curtains, naked, a statue carved from amber. "How do you like my pretentious bed now?"

Bakura's eyes traveled up and then down Marik's body. "I should have known you were the type of asshole that likes watching himself jerk off while laying in a pile of satin and goose-down."

"Flax cloth and stone were the only two textures I ever knew as a child, and there were no mirrors or flowers, only oil lamps and torches." Marik looked up at the mirrors, watching his reflection look back as a second Bakura stared from the side. "It was so dark, and the scent of death in the tomb was so old that it didn't even smell of death anymore, just dust and spices."

"Flax cloth and sand. My village smelled like smoke, even years later, the stench never quite left."

Marik crawled to Bakura's half of the bed. He helped Bakura out of his blood-stained shirt and traced the bandages up his marble chest. Bakura shuddered.

"Does it hurt?"

"Don't stop." Bakura stared at Marik. "When I was a doll everything felt like cotton. When I was in the Ring everything felt like gold." Bakura closed his eyes for a moment, savoring Marik's touch against his skin before he re-opened them. "I haven't felt real for over three thousand years . . . not until tonight."

Marik swung his leg over Bakura, straddling him. His fingers lingered over pale flesh. "I bet the legendary King of Thieves had a lot of lovers in his day. Any peculiarity scandalous stories?"

A single, dry laugh huffed out of Bakura's nostrils. "You'd be disappointed."

"You must have a few stories to tell."

"One."

"One?"

"Yes, one. It was a week before I attacked the palace. I knew things might not go according to plan, so I found a whore and gave her some gold."

"Her? Didn't think you were into hers."

"I'm not, but back then I'd never thought of it before. I trained my ka and planned my revenge. The thought of being with anyone, male or female, never crossed my mind. So when it came time for it, I went for the default setting."

"Was it any good?"

Bakura shrugged, tilting his gaze away so he didn't have to look at Marik and mentally cursing Ryo for making him used to telling stories of his life. The tale tumbled out of his mouth without him having to think about it, as if reliving it. "She laid naked on the bed and I looked down at her, waiting to feel something, some stirring, some instinct, but nothing happened. She was beautiful, but I had no yearning for her. She thought I was nervous, so she pulled me down on the bed and rolled on top of me."

"Yes, I imagine a whore wouldn't be bashful."

"Not bashful at all, but she was so . . . soft, I hated it. I tried to push her away and then she told me to close my eyes." Bakura snorted a single laugh through his nose at the memory. "I don't know why I listened to her. I just wanted her to leave so I could touch myself at that point, but I closed my eyes and she used her mouth. She knew what she was doing. Her mouth was wet and hot, and I'd never been touched by anyone else, so I ended up finishing after all. When it was all over, I ended up sharing my dinner with her and we sat there and complained about how those in the palace fattened themselves off of the sweat of the common people. I think she hated the Pharaoh as much as I did. I saw it in her eyes. She was bitter and damaged like me. Our lifestyles were a necessity, a way to survive in a kingdom falling apart."

Marik never stopped caressing Bakura as he listened to him speak. "I'm really not any better off than you. I've given a few hand jobs, gotten a few blow jobs, at least they were with men. I tried to date, but . . . everyone pisses me off."

Bakura chuckled. He shifted on his elbows in order to be closer to Marik's face. "How tired are you?"

Marik smirked. "Not that tired, I suppose."

Bakura raised a white eyebrow. Marik's smirk faltered into a smile before he bent down and kissed Bakura. They kissed like they argued, back and forth in quick pizzicato – a gasp of breath, a pluck of lips, moans resonating like notes in the air. Marik sang out when Bakura grabbed his shaft. He bucked into Bakura's hands, pausing as a shudder wracked his body.

Marik grabbed Bakura's wrist to stop his ministrations. "That's too good."

"Oh?" Bakura looked pleased.

Marik reached over Bakura and to the low headboard. He yanked open a small cupboard and pulled out a bottle of lubrication. Bakura watched Marik in the mirrors as Marik slid his fingers in and out of Bakura's body. When Marik entered him, it felt like a volcano erupting inside him. Bakura couldn't control his moans as Marik moved, nor could he prevent his fingers from reaching out and touching Marik's face, or chest, or the gold adorning his neck and wrists.

Bakura licked his lips, they burned from the salt of Marik's first kisses, the ones that pulled him from the Shadow Realm and delivered him moaning and gasping into life in Ryo's kitchen. He could tell Marik held back, circling his hips slow and keeping his body weight well off of Bakura's bandages. The gentle treatment infuriated Bakura, but he endured it because he knew that damaging his chest anymore would mean a trip to the hospital. Marik's expression mimed his movements, soft and tender but with a great swell of yearning threatening to break through and overtake him.

"Bakura," Marik whispered as he moved.

"Mmmm," Bakura tried to echo Marik's name back to him, but couldn't manage even a single syllable.

"Bakura!" Marik shouted.

Bakura hooked his legs and arms around Marik's body, bringing them closer though Marik tried to stay back and be gentle.

"Oh! Ohh! Bakura!"

"Marik!" He succeeded in calling out Marik's name at last.

It was the final piece Marik needed to complete the moment. He jerked and trembled, and Bakura felt warmth flowing inside of him. They lay together for a moment, breathing hard. Their eyes happened to meet and they started laughing, low and wicked and first, but their laughter grew into a roaring noise, as if they'd finally managed to win every game they'd ever lost and defeat every foe that had ever plagued them. Bakura moaned as Marik slipped out of him and dropped low to kiss down Bakura's chest.

Marik pressed his lips on one side and then the other, alternating on each side of his bandaged center. He meandered down to Bakura's belly, eyes looking up. "Let's see if I can do better than a woman."

Bakura's fingers twitched when Marik's mouth swallowed his cock. He clawed at the violet, satin sheets but couldn't find purchase. The contrast of sleek satin below him, and Marik's burning, wet mouth around him made Bakura scream needy ahhh's at the mirrors above them. In the reflection, Bakura watched Marik's golden, angelic hair bob up and down as he continued to suck. Marik's scars gleamed with sweat, making them look enchanted with unfamiliar magic.

Bakura's hips jerked forward on their own, slow and graceful at first but building into desperate short thrusts until he came hard into Marik's mouth as Marik swallowed.

"That was fun," Marik whispered afterward. He crawled up the bed, a golden sphinx, and settled next to Bakura.

Bakura watched their replicas in the mirrors above. "This bed is pretentious, but I do like the mirrors."

"I should have known you'd be the type of asshole that liked watching himself get sucked off in a pile of satin and goose-down."

Bakura noticed the light behind the curtains surrounding the bed. "You left the light on."

". . . yes, I did."

The tremor in Marik's words made Bakura realize he shouldn't have mentioned it. He teased the gold choker at Marik's throat. "You should leave it on. I think I've had enough darkness for awhile."

Marik looked grateful and relieved. Bakura didn't think Marik realized how much he meant the words.