"Hurry up!" Marik screamed. "Rishid said she went into labor ten minutes ago. We need to go now!"
"Marik, all we're going to do is stand in the waiting room. There's no point in rushing."
"No arguing! Let's go!"
Bakura grabbed Marik by the shoulder to calm him down - he had put on his shirt inside out. "Marik. She'll be fine. She's not underground with a midwife. She's in a hospital. With doctors. Calm down, and put your shirt on correctly."
Marik stared down at his shirt and then grabbed Bakura in a frantic, too-tight embrace. "I don't want anything to go wrong."
Bakura returned the hug, holding Marik as tight as his arms allowed. "Nothing will go wrong."
"I know, but—"
"Nothing will go wrong." Bakura pressed his face into the crown of Marik's head. "And I'm right here."
Marik sighed into Bakura's chest. They broke apart and Marik flipped his shirt right side in. "Better?"
"Yeah." Bakura stole the keys out of Marik's hand. "I think I'll drive the bike. C'mon, let's go meet this kid you've been buying so much stuff for during the last nine months."
***It could be worse, Marik. *My* little sister is going to give birth at St. Mary's in a few months. When I was in college everyone called it "St. Murders" and I don't think the nick name has gone away over the years. Thankfully, her doctor seems competent.***