Archive of Our Own

...

“You cannot be serious.”

Marik sighed at the withering look Bakura gave him, closing the front door behind him and kicking off his shoes. Bakura sat on the couch next to Ryou, looking thoroughly displeased with the information Marik just shared. The former tomb keeper couldn't help but frown back at him. After all, it was his family. It's not like Bakura had to worry about his relationship with them.

“I haven't seen them in months and they're concerned about me.”

Bakura turned his attention back to the TV, picking up the game he and Ryou were playing even as he continued to converse with Marik. “So? You keep in contact with them, don't you?”

Marik shook his head incredulously. That was completely besides the point. “What would you think if your brother just suddenly up and left your homeland, disappearing for a few weeks, only to return with someone thought to be dead and gaining the knowledge that they ventured into the shadows together. And then shortly after that he just leaves again. Tell me, how does that look?”

Bakura shrugged. “Like you had a good time?”

Marik rolled his eyes and began to make his way to the kitchen, plastic bag dangling from his fingers. It looked like this conversation would have to wait until later, preferably after he had something to eat. “Are you going to help me with dinner?”

“Can't. Ryou is making me play video games with him,” Bakura answered without looking away from the screen, slouched so far backwards his chin was nearly touching his chest. Marik lowered his eyelids.

“Yeah you look like you're being so forced into that.”

“Well, he can send me back to the shadows at any time, so I kind of have to do whatever he says.”

Beside him Ryou, who had been mostly quiet up until this point, burst into a fit of giggles and slapped a hand to his mouth as though someone had told him a hilarious joke that only he heard. Bakura gave him an odd look.

“What's so funny?”

Ryou seemed to contain himself, falling silent for a moment, and then he looked at Bakura's face and snorted out another laugh. Bakura growled, thoroughly put off by whatever it was Ryou knew that he didn't.

“The hell has gotten into you?”

Ryou stared at him for a moment, mouth twitching as though he were considering whether to let Bakura in on the joke or not. Finally, he seemed to cave. “I burned that string like two weeks after we retrieved your body. There's no way I can send you back now.”

Bakura bristled and straightened up in his seat, very much resembling an angry cat as he turned to screech at Ryou.

“What?! And you just let me think–” He chucked his controller at Ryou, throwing his hands up and slumping back on the couch. “You know what, I can't even be angry at that. Well played, you scrawny bastard.”

Ryou caught the controller and set it down, sobering up from his fit.

“If it weren't for you practically starving my body, maybe I wouldn't be so scrawny.” He snapped at Bakura, and then stood up, brightening as he went over to follow Marik, “I'll help you with dinner, Marik.”

“Thank you.” Marik nodded at Ryou while throwing a pointed glare at Bakura. Bakura flipped him off in response.

After the two disappeared into the kitchen, Bakura continued sitting on the couch for a few minutes, idly playing the game but not being very entertained with it. It wasn't very much fun without two people. When he got bored, he hit pause again and finally stood up, trotting over to the kitchen. He plopped down at the island and rested his chin in his palm, watching Ryou and Marik work to prepare dinner. He made a face at the vegetable stir fry they were working on, but they disregarded him entirely to chat to each other. When he decided he was done with being ignored, he thrust himself into the conversation.

“So when are your siblings visiting? And for how long?”

“This weekend only. They'll be arriving on Friday and leaving Sunday night.” Marik leaned on the island across from him, a brow raised at Bakura. “Why is it such a big deal?”

“It's not,” Bakura replied, even though he knew he sounded irritated. “I'm just wondering how they're going to handle our... arrangement.”

“I didn't think you cared about other's opinions.”

“I don't,” Bakura looked away, “but I know you do.”

Marik scowled at him, eyes narrowing. “What's that supposed to mean?”

The thief glanced back at him. “I think you know what it means. I'm not an idiot, Marik, I know when you're anxious about something.”

Before Marik could respond, a sharp hissing noise cut through the air. Both of them looked over to see flames flare up from the pan Ryou was working at, but he got it under control a second later and spared them all the fire hazard. Sensing their momentary alarm, Ryou looked over with a sheepish smile.

“Ah, sorry about that.”

“Try not to burn the house down, Ryou,” Marik said.

“No promises.” Ryou saluted. Marik shrugged and turned his attention back to Bakura, resuming their conversation where they left off when he noticed the other male still staring past him. He seemed to be lost, gaze fixated on nothing in particular, expression oddly tense. That or he just found the stovetop Ryou was cooking on extremely interesting. He didn't respond even when Marik called his name a few times.

Bakura blinked when Marik snapped his fingers before his face, seeming to come back to himself. He gave Marik an irritated look. What?”

“You spaced out for a moment. I said I just want to be on good terms with my siblings, okay?”

“Oh, so your siblings get the formal introduction, but I find out by walking in on you two.” Ryou interjected in a sing-song voice. “I see how it is.”

“Shut up, Ryou,” Bakura frowned at his former host's passive aggression. Despite the casual air, something felt off to him, though he ignored it and addressed Marik once more. “Fine, but don't expect me to do any parlor tricks while they're here.”

...

Several days later and Marik was pacing in the living room, frantically checking his phone every few minutes. It came as a huge annoyance to Bakura, who sat on the couch in nothing but a towel, damp hair in its usual mess. Not even the TV provided enough of a distraction.

Finally that text arrived that sent Marik out of the apartment and off to the airport, throwing one last order to get dressed to the thief.

He didn't take his motorbike, instead opting for a cab. The strange nervousness building in his gut peaked when he arrived at the airport, quickly spotting his two siblings waiting at the pick up/drop off area. He didn't quite know how to place what he was feeling. It wasn't that he was ashamed, but something made him avert his eyes and avoid their gazes as he approached them.

“It's good to see you, brother.” Ishizu stepped forward and drew him into an embrace. She pulled back after a moment and held his shoulders, eyes betraying a far deeper concern. “I hope you're doing well?”

“Yes, you too, sis. Let me help you with that,” Marik said, trying not to look like he was avoiding her scrutiny as he moved to load their suitcases into the cab. He smiled but, even though he truly was glad about seeing his siblings again after so long, it still felt fake, like he was doing wrong somehow. “I trust you both had a safe trip?”

Small talk, that was the key distraction up until they'd entered the apartment building. Ishizu jabbed the button for the elevator and then turned to him.

“Marik?” She said, finally breaching the matter he knew she'd been waiting to for a while. “I don't quite know how to start. You know I'll always support you and I have no desire to interfere with your life, but over the past six months I couldn't help but be concerned for you.” She sighed, tone calm and rational, how she was trained to always act. “You left Egypt so suddenly, then returned, and then left again. Not only this but your association with the thief–”

“Bakura.” Marik corrected sharply, eyes darkening by a shade. His hands clenched with the tension he was struggling to keep under control.

“Bakura, yes...” Ishizu conceded, though Marik could see the disdain in her eyes as she spoke the thief's name. “You'd worked so hard on your reputation back in Egypt, I can't help but be worried that he will compromise it.”

Marik bristled, teeth grinding as he forced himself to calm. They stepped into the elevator when it arrived on the ground floor, but even though it was fairly spacious, it still felt claustraphobic. With a stab of the button, they were headed up to the floor Marik's apartment rested on.

“My reputation in Egypt isn't really my concern anymore, is it?” He said, more harshly than he intended. The expression on Ishizu's face instantly made him feel guilty and he softened his tone. “Bakura is my friend and he's not a threat. There's no Pharaoh left for him to fight. Your worrying is understandable, but unwarranted at this point. He's not some bogeyman you should be fearing, he's a person like anyone else.”

Honestly, it wasn't like Bakura made it difficult to hate him, but Marik knew him better than anyone else and to what depths his conflict went. Marik was not in a position to judge Bakura any more than Bakura was in a position to judge him. There was a lot more than what lay on the surface, though Ishizu didn't seem willing to look any deeper.

“If I can walk out of the darkness and into the light, then why shouldn't he be afforded the same chance?”

“I understand what you're saying but I'm not entirely convinced.” Ishizu eyed him with an air of suspicion as they stepped into the hallway and made their way down towards Marik's door. He sighed and reached for his keys, unlocking the door and twisting the handle.

“I promise you, Ishizu, he's safe.”

No sooner had they passed the threshold and entered the living room did Marik freeze. His siblings followed suit, the handles of one of the suitcases making a pronounced click as it slid back into place, punctuating the silence that had fallen. The subject of their previous conversation lay on the couch, appearing to not have moved at all since Marik had left the apartment earlier. Bakura looked over at the trio, a bored expression on his face.

“I didn't expect for you to be back so soon.” He commented as though nothing were amiss.

The swell of rising ire left Marik unable to speak for a few moments. Any other time and he would have found the display funny, but he was actually trying to leave his siblings on a good note and wasn't in much of a joking mood.

“Bakura.”

“What?”

Marik's eyes flicked down the hallway – a clear hint that the barely decent Bakura seemed unwilling to take. “Don't you have something to do?”

It was hard to tell what Rishid was thinking, but he snorted softly. Ishizu, on the other hand, looked deeply uncomfortable. “Erm... did you tell him we were visiting?”

“Excuse us.” Marik said between his teeth, walking over and grabbing Bakura by the wrist. He dragged him down the hall and into the kitchen, immediately rounding on him once they were out of sight. “What the fuck? Put some clothes on, you asshole.”

Bakura, who had been cackling from point where Marik dragged him down the hall, stopped laughing and stretched nonchalantly. The towel slipped off of his waist and dropped to the tile, leaving him completely naked, but he didn't seem to mind. “In fairness, you didn't tell me what time you'd be back.”

Marik growled. If they didn't have visitors, he would have loved to throw the thief against the nearest surface and have his way with him until Bakura couldn't even think of being cheeky anymore, but right now he was just pissed off. He moved behind Bakura, pushing him back out into the hallway and down towards the bedroom as fast as possible, lest his siblings accidentally glance in their direction. His voice was a hiss in Bakura's ear. “Not even five minutes into this and you're pulling this shit.”

Bakura half-heartedly pushed back against him, making Marik's job more difficult for the sake of it and looking far too pleased about it. “Settle down. Today's social customs call for too much clothing anyway.”

Marik shoved him into their bedroom, glaring at him from the doorway. He didn't understand why Bakura had to be like this now of all times. He didn't care either, he just wanted to get through this visit without any more issues. He offered one final word of advice before slamming the door behind him.

“Yeah well, get used to the modern world, Bakura.”

...

Twenty minutes later and the living room was filled with an uncomfortable silence. Rishid and Ishizu sat in the chairs, Bakura (thankfully now fully dressed) and Marik side by side on the couch. A tray of tea occupied the table between them.

“So...” Ishizu said, cup set firmly in her lap. “It's been a while, hasn't it?”

“Indeed, sis,” Bakura smirked, then winced when Marik elbowed him in the ribs. There was something poisonous in his mirth. “What? Aren't I officially listed as Bakura Ishtar?”

He was right. In hindsight, Marik wasn't quite sure how he'd convinced Ishizu to get Bakura properly registered. He supposed she'd been more sympathetic when Marik had called her and explained everything that had happened to the both of them; sharing a body, dabbling in shadow magic, the fact that Bakura had no where to go. He must have sounded pretty desperate at the time, and she probably felt better about Marik watching him rather than someone potentially dangerous being on the loose with no identification.

The Ishtar name was the only one they could think of using. Bakura had refused at first, but soon realized there were little other options and reluctantly agreed.

“Would it kill you to not be such a dick?” Marik hissed.

“Yes.” Bakura hissed back.

“So, how have your studies been going, Marik?” Ishizu cut in, pointedly ignoring Bakura's comment. “You dropped your university applications when you left Egypt, but you told me you've found interest in other areas?”

Marik threw Bakura one last 'behave' look before turning his attention back to Ishizu. “Yes, I've been taking some online classes geared towards engineering, but I might look into psychology as well... I'm not sure yet.”

She nodded, some manner of reassurance returning to her composition. It was short lived, however; the disdain came back when her gaze shifted to the thief. “What's your occupation, Bakura?”

“Eh?” Bakura cocked his head, surprised his presence was actually being acknowledged.

“I was just wondering if you did anything, like a job of some kind, or a hobby.” Ishizu sipped her tea, speaking so mildly that to the untrained ear, one wouldn't have picked up any condescension in her tone. “Something beyond scheming against the Pharaoh and going after the Millennium Items, I mean.”

Bakura's eyes narrowed dangerously, fingernail tapping against his own glass. Marik preemptively groaned when he felt the atmosphere shift. “Yeah, actually. I wake up, I eat some food, I go out and do whatever I feel like, and then I come home and fuck your brother.”

The living room filled with the wet sound of both Ishizu and Marik sputtering into their drinks at the same time. Rishid just sighed, reaching over to pat Ishizu on the back as she coughed and set her tea down, hand raised to her mouth.

“Umm...” It took a lot to rattle her composure, but she looked thoroughly shocked and offended, squinting at Bakura like he was a bug crawling on the carpet. Marik threw the thief an incredulous look before nearly slamming his tea down and grabbing Bakura's wrist.

“Excuse us – again.” He snapped, dragging a cackling Bakura out of the living room for the second time that day. “What the hell is wrong with you? You don't just say that to my sister!” Marik said as soon as they were out of sight, grabbing at his hair in frustration. “This is my family, can you show a bit of sensitivity?”

The self-satisfied grin vanished off of Bakura's face instantly and he glared back at the former tomb keeper.

“No because you're gonna just dance back and forth around it and this stupid visit will never go anywhere. She hates me whether or not it's out in the open and it's pretty clear that's not changing any time soon.” Bakura jabbed to fingers into Marik's chest to emphasize his next point. “And I won't be prodded at like some specimen on an examination table. If she wants to play dirty, I won't hesitate to do the same in return.”

Marik exhaled heavily. It was true, he couldn't entirely blame the thief for reacting the way he did – Ishizu's comment had pissed him off as well – but he still didn't want them taking potshots at each other. That wasn't what this visit was meant for. He rubbed his temples, feeling a migraine firmly setting in at the thought of two more days of this.

“Just try and be decent, please?”

Bakura crossed his arms, rolling his eyes and murmuring something non-commital. They headed back to the living room without further discussion.

If Marik thought it had been awkward before, it didn't compare to now. Both sets of eyes felt heavy on him as the two returned to their seats. He met Rishid's stare and swallowed. It wasn't that his brother looked disapproving, he was just hard to read sometimes, and the neutral expression had Marik on edge. Ishizu's lips curved up into a smile that was clearly forced; Marik wondered if Rishid had said something to try and make her more amiable.

He almost felt bad – almost. Rishid already knew that he abstained from tradition in more ways than one, but he didn't want the bomb to be dropped on Ishizu that bluntly, and not by Bakura of all people. At the same time he didn't owe the tomb keepers anything; he'd been meant to pass the Pharaoh's memories onto another heir, but there was no need for that duty anymore. Even if there was, he didn't think he would have been able to go through with it.

Regardless, he knew for a fact that he would never have a son of his own. He wasn't quite sure how Ishizu would take this information, nor how much she knew about the topic. The tomb keepers had no concept of sexuality; you wed, you produced heirs, and then you passed on the legacy. That was it, there was no other option.

Still, even she had to realize that there was no need for the tomb keepers anymore. For the most part, Marik didn't care what she thought anyway, but a smaller darker part feared she wouldn't understand.

“When did you two get together?” Ishizu asked, gripping her teacup tightly. She pointedly didn't look at Bakura, as though trying to forget he was even there. Marik scratched the back of his head.

“It's a bit complicated to explain. I wanted to tell you but it's just...” He trailed off. He wasn't even entirely sure what had happened himself. It was like as soon as they left the shadows, everything had sort of fallen into place. To his surprise, Ishizu reached out and placed her hand on his knee in a sincere gesture.

“We could never reject you for your way, brother, I just wish we'd known sooner,” she said, but there was a clear unspoken addition to her words.

'And that it wasn't with the Pharaoh's sworn enemy.'

A heavy silence set in, everyone looking at Marik expectantly, but Marik was staring at the table. He wanted to sink into the polished wood, but settled for putting his face in his hands instead. He heard Bakura snort, and then Rishid cleared his throat.

“Why don't we play Duel Monsters? It should... ease the tension a bit.”
...

Solving problems with card games seemed to work for the most part in the past, but in this case it turned out to be a terrible idea. They'd probably spent more time arguing about the mechanics of the game than they did actually playing. Eventually Bakura had given up, renounced Duel Monsters for the shit game it was, and went to scavenge the kitchen. Marik and Rishid gave synchronized sighs and Ishizu merely rubbed her temples.

The day was still young so they decided to go out. Bakura didn't accompany them, but Marik sourly thought that was probably for the better. They had to call a cab again. Marik would have loved to take his bike – going for a joyride usually helped clear his head – but he couldn't because his siblings were accompanying him, and the roads were stupidly icy at this time of the year.

He retained his piss poor mood even as they entered the mall. The weekend had only begun and he was already feeling claustraphobic, and Bakura's attitude wasn't helping at all. He nearly sighed with relief when Ishizu suggested they go and reserve for somewhere to eat while she went off to check out a few shops, but managed to keep from doing so. Ishizu went off to explore on her own, leaving Rishid and Marik to make the walk to one of the nearby restaurants.

“I'm sorry about how this weekend has been going so far. Bakura doesn't... play well with others,” Marik said, hands in his pockets. He wasn't just referring to the game of Duel Monsters they'd had. Marik could count the people Bakura could call 'friends' on one hand – himself and Ryou. Marik wasn't much better in that regard, but he could go out and successfully mingle if he wanted to. Bakura, on the other hand, didn't even seem inclined to try.

It wasn't something Marik faulted him for, but gods, he forgot just how unpleasant of a person Bakura could be when forced outside of his narrow range of social ties.

“Somehow I have a feeling there's more to it than that,” Rishid replied. “Then again, I don't know much about him, other than that he's saved my life once before.”

“He lost his family in a soldier's raid, he blamed the Pharaoh, tried to take revenge on the kingdom, failed and got caught up in an even grander scheme. Failed that too.” Marik said, condensing what he knew about the thief's history into an almost offensively short explanation. Somehow he doubted that Bakura would have appreciated a full exposition on his background. “And now he's here with me.”

Rishid smiled, a wise and knowing look behind his eyes. “And you enjoy his company?”

“More or less.” Marik smirked. In truth, he loved Bakura's company, though he would never put how he felt in those terms. He and Bakura were a constant battle, though it was more like a dance where they made up the rhythm. They argued a lot, but it was in a sporting nature, and they were there to catch the other when they inevitabley fell. There was a certain bond they shared, like they couldn't put their faith in anyone to handle the broken and jagged pieces of themselves. It was just how they worked, and he wouldn't have had it any other way.

The smile dropped off of Marik's face. “He really is a lot more sensitive than he lets on. His hatred for the kingdom and it's supporters isn't exactly unfounded. It's not a justification for him being an asshole to Ishizu but it explains a few things.” He stopped walking for a moment, gazing up at his reflection in the glass panelling and the fake plants lining the walls. “I really don't want to put this distance between myself and my remaining family, but I hope you understand why I left Egypt. There's nothing for me there anymore.”

He sighed. He wasn't sure why he was explaining this to Rishid. The problem wasn't with his brother. “I can't look to the future if the past surrounds me, and Bakura is a part of the future I want.”

“I understand.” Rishid nodded, always a bit too formal and respectfully distant for Marik's taste, but that was the least of Marik's problems right now.

“I don't think Ishizu does.”

“I think you give her far too little credit.”

Marik raised a brow at him.

“I think she gives Bakura far too much. She hasn't lost her overbearing touch and she still thinks she knows what's best for me. He's not trying to 'tempt' me back into a life of crime or any nonsense like that.” He snorted at the notion. They began walking again, passing through a walkway overlooking the streets below. “I don't want to have to view her in such a way, but she was always the most dedicated to the Pharaoh. And once she is set in her ways it can be difficult to change her mind. I just don't want them engaging in their 'subtle' warfare the entire time they're around each other. It grates on me and I don't like taking sides.”

“It simply needs time,” Rishid assured. Marik could never truly express his gratitude for the unconditional support his brother offered. “Sooner or later they'll have to stop seeing each other as the enemy; the war ended a long time ago.”
...

Marik couldn't sleep that night. His scars burned and, even with the silk bedspread, he couldn't lay on his back without severe discomfort. He sighed and adjusted the covers for what felt like the billionth time, staring at the wall in the dim lighting the nightlight offered.

He could tell Bakura was still awake as well, judging by the way the thief tossed and turned. Marik could hear his uneven breathing and feel how rigid his body was even though they lay on opposite ends of the bed. It seemed that whenever Marik had issues sleeping, Bakura would as well.

Seemingly roused by his sigh, he felt Bakura move closer in an almost cautious fashion. A hand brushed against his waist, a silent question passing between the two of them. When Marik tilted his head and brushed stray hair away from his neck, Bakura trailed his lips along the exposed flesh. A pleasant shiver ran up and down his spine when he felt the hand caress along his backside. Bakura's palm was cool and soothed the burn, massaging at his skin with a care only Marik knew in moments like these. Bakura was the only one allowed to touch his back in such a way. If anyone else tried it, he'd break their arm.

There were tiny pricks of sharpness as Bakura nipped at his skin, then sucked at the marks he'd made. It was the closest to gentle they would likely get, and Marik didn't have a problem with that; the sensations helped distract from his back. But, as much as he enjoyed the gesture, he frowned and pulled away, sitting up with one hand on the other male's chest.

“I'm still annoyed at you,” He said, his voice sounding too loud in the stillness of the room. He brought it down to a whisper. “Seriously, Bakura, what's wrong? You said you didn't have a problem with my siblings visiting.”

“I don't.” Bakura sat up as well, leaning his body forward and tilting his head into the crook of Marik's neck. Marik sighed as kisses were trailed down his throat, detecting something needy in the action. He placed his hands on Bakura's biceps, though he didn't really want to stop what he was doing.

“You're lying. Something's bothering you, what is it?”

“Do we have to talk now, Marik?” Bakura hissed into his ear.

“Apparently, yes.” Marik rolled his eyes. “My siblings are in the other room, idiot.”

The other room was meant to be Bakura's, but he usually made some excuse to sleep in Marik's room if he hadn't already crashed on the couch. As such, it was more of a guest room than anything, and Marik knew thanks to Ryou that the walls were thin. None of this seemed to mean anything to Bakura at the moment.

“So we'll be quiet,” Bakura insisted, smoothing his palm down Marik's chest. Marik leaned into the touch a bit, though his hand came up to clasp the thief's.

“You're so transparent. Don't try and change the subject.”

Bakura pulled back, making a low, gutteral noise. “Fuck this.”

“Is it because Ishizu still worships the Pharaoh?” Marik's lips curled around the last word. He hated having to mention the Pharaoh at all; he didn't even want that title in his mouth. He just wanted to forget everything to do with him.

“No,” Bakura starkly replied, his tone suggesting otherwise. He jerked his head away, glaring off at something. “I don't give a damn about that. She can waste her time worshipping the dead fucker all she wants.”

“Then why?”

Bakura was silent for a long while, the tension that had suddenly collected in his muscles easing out and his shoulders slumping. He exhaled slowly, looking down at his hands, and then finally he spoke again.

“I don't know, okay?” He shook his head. “I've been feeling off for days now.”

For some reason, Marik thought of the way Bakura had frozen up while he and Ryou were making dinner the other day. It was the thing that stuck out the most as odd in his behaviour. Expression thoughtful, he reached out and cupped Bakura's cheek, turning his head back towards him. “In what way?”

“I just said I don't know.” The thief avoided his gaze. After a moment he pushed the blankets away from them and crawled forward to situate himself in Marik's lap. His hands came up to comb through the other male's golden hair. The neediness Marik had seen before turned to something nearly flat out pleading. “Will you please just fuck me already?”

“Well when you put it like that...” Marik snorted, feigning nonchalance though the forwardness of Bakura's actions made his breath catch slightly. He craned over to fumble for the bedside table drawer, juggling the conversation at the same time. “Could you at least try and explain it?”

“It's like...” Bakura's mouth twitched, several expressions passing over his face as though he couldn't work out what it was he was feeling. Marik had the suspicion Bakura knew exactly what was bothering him, but he was having trouble articulating what it was. “I don't want to get close to another family. Just being around you and Ryou... it's... I don't know.”

Marik fell silent at that, considering the thief's words with grave understanding. Absentmindedly, his hand rubbed small circles into Bakura's lower back. Bakura shut his eyes, angling his head away again.

“Fuck... I don't want to say anymore.”

“Then don't.” Marik tilted his chin up to catch Bakura's lips. A surprised noise hitched in Bakura's throat before he kissed back, a sudden fervency overtaking him. It didn't last nearly as long as Marik expected; soon Bakura was pulling away and sliding off of his lap, prompting a questioning look from the former tomb keeper.

It was answered when he felt fingers clutching at the waistband of his nightpants and inching the material down his hips. Marik swallowed thickly when the thief grabbed the base of his cock, wasting no time before he lowered his mouth to the heated flesh.

“Bakur – ah,” Marik let out a gasp far louder than he expected, startled by how fast the other male cut to the point. Bakura's lips slid over him, tongue laving at the head of his cock and coaxing him to full hardness. Marik lay back, his scars the last thing on his mind as Bakura quickly set to dipping and raising his head at a steady pace. Marik's hand found the back of his head, fingers running through cropped white hair as his other hand muffled his own panting. Occassionally, Bakura would break to run his tongue along the entirety of his length, down then back up, teasing the slit before he swallowed him again. Meanwhile, the thief's hand crept lower to massage at his balls. He was relentless, and Marik knew he wouldn't last long if it continued like this.

Marik pushed at his shoulders. Bakura pulled back, immediately going for the lubricant Marik had retrieved from the bedside table and kicking off his own nightpants. Marik blinked when the thief started preparing himself without a word. It was like he didn't trust Marik to get to what he wanted fast enough. Bakura's eyelashes fluttered, the thief's mouth dropped opened, utterly absorbed in what he was doing. Admittedly, it was kind of a turn on to watch. Marik went for the small bottle as well and stroked himself idly, closed fist gliding up and down his slick shaft.

It wasn't long before Bakura crawled back into his lap, knees on either side of his waist and his ass raised over Marik's erection. Marik's whisper of 'don't hurt yourself' fell on deaf ears as Bakura hastily eased himself down, blowing out a heavy gust of air.

They'd barely started to get into it when there was movement in the hallway, causing them both to still. Footsteps – heavy, probably belonging to Rishid – approached the door. Marik held his breath, hearing a click as the bathroom light turned on across from them and a pale yellow glow flooded into the room under the crack of the door. It momentarily disappeared as the bathroom door closed.

The two exchanged a look, Bakura's expression turning dangerously sly. He circled his hips, rocking against Marik again – slowly. The former tomb keeper bit his lip to keep from moaning, eyes fierce as he slapped a hand over Bakura's mouth when the thief chuckled.

After what felt like forever, the bathroom door opened again and the footsteps disappeared back down the hall. Their movements picked back up, but Marik only cringed as the springs in the mattress protested under their weight. What was worse was that the bed frame gave a pronounced creak, sounding like thunder in the silence of the room. It all seemed too loud now. Was it always like that? Marik never really took the time to notice; usually they were too wrapped up in each other and didn't have to be quiet.

“Dammit...” Bakura growled, glaring at the bed as if to tell it to shut up. Marik laughed under his breath, nodding to the empty space beside them.

“Floor then?”

Bakura grunted in agreement and reluctantly pulled off of him. Less than thirty seconds later and Marik was on his back, the plush carpet cushioning them as Bakura straddled his hips and impaled himself once more. Marik bit his lip and fought to keep from moaning aloud – again. When they drew close, he rolled them over, spreading Bakura's legs wide and plunging into his body as the thief writhed with the urge to scream. When they finally came, he forced their mouths together, muffling any sound that might have escaped into the open air.

...

Bakura found he didn't mind the company of the eldest Ishtar. At the very least, he wasn't completely insufferable. He didn't say much either – which Bakura appreciated – and maintained a quiet, respectful air around him. Bakura snorted as he thought that Marik could learn a thing or two from him.

A fleeting smirk crossed his features. Nah – he preferred Marik the way he was, stubborn and argumentative. What he didn't prefer was the conversation filtering from down the hall, the bustle of cooking unable to completely drown it out. He wondered just how much progress the other two Ishtars had made on dinner. They seemed more preoccupied with more useless bickering.

Bakura leaned his weight on the couch armrest, chin in palm. Rishid sat on one of the chairs, book in hand, though the thief knew he wasn't reading it. Surprisingly enough, Rishid would throw him an empathetic glance every once in a while. Bakura merely shrugged in response. He knew he was largely the topic of their bickering, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He wasn't going to bend over backwards to appease Marik's sister; he wasn't some dog to be domesticated.

Ishizu had already changed tactics anyway. She didn't show her concern for the big bad Thief King who would surely corrupt her brother and drag him back down a dark path. No, she had to be more subtle than that. She played to Marik's guilt instead, making suggestions he return to the life he had in Egypt. Bakura thought she'd be some demure, subservient tomb keeper woman but no, she was crafty and underhanded and he had to give that to her. It was almost impressive in a way, but what was even more impressive was that Marik was having none of it.

He'd caught glimpses of Marik's life while residing in his mind as a fractured spirit. He'd seen how Marik would act around her. Put simply, it was fake, something caught between genuine desire to appease his sister and the reality that he just wasn't happy in his current position. But Marik wasn't keeping up with the image of trying to start a new life in Egypt any longer.

Bakura would have felt bad for Ishizu if he had the capacity for it. Truthfully, he didn't blame her for her concern, nor did he care that she thought so lowly of him. She was just trying to protect her brother after all. He could respect that.

So why did he stand up and begin the trek to the kitchen? Because, on sheer principle alone, there was something wrong with her assessment of the two of them. He wasn't some contageous disease. He was incapable of corrupting Marik if he tried – what was there left to corrupt anyway? He couldn't control Marik any more than Marik could control him. They were merely two wild forces that had found some sort of equilibrium with each other.

Bakura wasn't sure what he was going to do when he confronted them, but hopefully it would make them quiet down. More than that, however, he was hungry, and he grew bored waiting with Baldy in the living room.

Rishid didn't stop him, but he did throw him a mildly concerned look (that Bakura ignored.) As he drew closer to the kitchen, it became easier to make out the words being exchanged.

“I'm just... you're really sure you don't want to come back to Egypt?”

“Yes, I'm sure.”

They didn't notice him enter – that or he was just really quiet. Marik was at the stovetop, Ishizu cutting vegetables a short ways away. Both had their backs turned to him.

“Of course, I can't change your mind. It just hurts for our family to be separated again,” Ishizu said, the picture of a dejected family member. Bakura resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I already promised I'd visit from time to time,” Marik replied, thinly veiled impatience lacing his words. His sister stepped in to help with the cooking, but he went to stop her. “Ishizu, don't worry, I have it.”

He didn't. As he turned, his hand knocked against a bottle of oil, tipping it onto the burner. The pan ignited, flames climbing high for a brief moment. Marik cried out as they licked at his hand before he could pull it away, face scrunched up in pain.

The fire alone was enough to freeze Bakura where he stood. Despite the fact that it was relatively warm inside the apartment, a chill ran over his skin, grave like the silence preceding a war. He'd always hated fire, but he should have been able to ignore it. Any other time he would have been able to ignore the slow, creeping horror crawling over him.

But then he picked it up – the scent of burning flesh. It invaded his senses, washing over him and awakening something he thought he'd buried. His mouth fell open but no sound came forth.

He didn't know what seized him then and there, rooting him to the spot the same way it had over 3000 years ago. It had to be fear. Necrophades had numbed him to everything that wasn't hatred and anger, but the shadows were gone now and there was no buffer between him and his memories. He was human, he was alive again, and he felt everything.

The kitchen fell away. He didn't hear Marik or Ishizu, it was all just noise. His mind was somewhere else. The black expanse of night stretched over his head, flames licking at gold and shadows dancing along the walls. He couldn't make sense of it all. What he could make sense of was that it was growing too loud and he couldn't be here, not with the smell of fire and death swirling around him.

He drew quick and panicked breaths, looking around frantically but not seeing anything. He pivoted on his heel.

He ran and didn't look back.

...

Marik hissed in pain and jammed his hand under the faucet, cold water soothing the burn. It wasn't bad, the heel of his palm and his little finger had gotten the most of it but he'd had worse. He'd live.

The headache forming from the previous conversation and the ensuing scramble to keep the place from burning down was another issue. Ishizu went to put out the fire, but he wished she would stop talking for a few minutes. He turned and was surprised to see Bakura standing barely two feet from him, not having noticed him enter. But the moment he set eyes on him he knew something was off.

The thief had gone pale, rigid as a board. His eyes were blown wide, fixated on something past just past Marik. Marik was about to ask what was wrong when it suddenly dawned on him as he followed Bakura's line of sight.

“Bakura, no.” Marik reached out, but the thief moved away, looking at Marik like he didn't even recognize him. A split second later, he was gone, having bolted out of the kitchen with astonishing speed. Marik heard the front door open and then slam shut.

“Shit.” Marik grit his teeth. He grabbed a cloth, soaking it in cold water and wrapping it around his hand before moving to follow Bakura. Ishizu stepped forward.

“What is he–?”

“I'm sorry but I need to go after him.” Marik said with an air of impatience, his annoyance growing when the smoke detector went off. Rishid appeared in the doorway, drawn by the commotion. Marik addressed the both of them, gesturing to the source of the incessant beeping. “Deal with this.”

“Marik–”

He darted past Rishid and was out the front door before he could hear any protest. Too impatient to wait for the elevator, he threw open the door to the stairs and bounded down them. Near the bottom floor he spotted a flash of white when he looked over the railing.

“Bakura!” He called out, but the thief had already disappeared through the fire exit. Marik swore. He didn't know where Bakura was going and he didn't want to lose him either. There was no telling where Bakura would end up, especially in the state he was in.

He reached the bottom after what felt like forever and threw open the fire exit, propping it open behind him. It was late, the night air sweeping over him and making him shiver. He cursed himself for not putting on shoes as he stepped out into the alley, glancing from side to side. He took a guess as to which direction Bakura had run and set off. Thinking fast, he reached into his pocket for his phone, dialing the thief's number and simply letting it ring.

The streets were nearly bare. Marik was thankful they lived in one of the less populated areas of Domino; the crowds would be more condensed near the entertainment districts of the city at this time. He ran for a while, breath turning to a small cloud before his face, the cold freezing his limbs and clawing at his feet.

But didn't care about that. He just wanted to find Bakura before he got himself hurt. Marik cursed the thief's speed and the fact he didn't answer his phone. Marik dialed again.

It would probably be a better use of his time to go back to his apartment and dress properly for the weather, and then go searching on his bike. He was about to give up and go back to his apartment when he heard a faint beeping tune. He turned into a side alley up ahead and found the thief slumped sideways against a wall with his back turned to Marik. Bakura's phone buzzed, forgotten in the pocket of his crimson hoodie. Like Marik, he hadn't bothered to put on shoes in his hurry to get away from whatever had spooked him so badly in the apartment.

“Bakura,” Marik said as he moved to his side. No response. Not even a biting quip or a grunt of acknowledgement. Bakura was staring straight ahead into nothingness, so still he almost appeared to be dead. He looked like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Bakura...?” He tried again, his voice closer to a whisper. The thief's behaviour scared him; he'd never seen him look so vacant. He was so far gone Marik thought he wouldn't be able to reach him again. Swallowing, Marik reached out and touched his shoulder. “Are you alright? Can you stand?”

Bakura brushed him off with a wounded noise, pressing further into the wall. Marik sighed and glanced around, his own teeth chattering in the biting cold. Night had long since fallen, clouds blotting any remaining traces of light that might have lingered in the sky. Only the orange glow of a nearby streetlight illuminated their forms. “You can't be out here. I'm going to carry you, okay?”

He worked an arm under Bakura's back, the other under his knees, luckily without resistance. The thief simply let himself be scooped up, looping his arms around Marik's neck automatically for something to hold onto. Bakura had a smaller frame and wasn't too difficult to carry back down the two blocks they'd run. The cold numbed the pain in Marik's hand, which he could hardly pay attention to anyway while he held the other male. Marik was careful to watch for ice as he made his way back to the apartment. He shouldered open the door to the apartment complex and leaned against the wall with the thief gathered in his arms while he waited for the elevator.

Less than two minutes later, he knocked at the door of his own house with his foot. Rishid opened it, a deeply concerned look on his face.

“He needs space, something set him off and he panicked,” Marik said, breathing slightly laboured from the effort of carrying Bakura. Rishid let him by without question. He passed the living room, Bakura's face still pressed into his neck. Ishizu stood when she noticed the two of them, but Rishid intercepted. Marik nodded gratefully and carried the thief into their room, half collapsing on the bed and laying him down.

It was like a dam broke. The second Bakura wasn't buried in Marik's neck anymore he gasped, breathing in and out raggedly like he'd just resurfaced from a vat of freezing water. Marik's hands found either side of his face, tightness clenching in his chest. Bakura curled into Marik's body, dropping his head against his shoulder and sobbing. It was a completely pitiful sound, broken by something raw and repressed for an unfathomable amount of time. Marik wasn't unfamiliar with the feeling, but he didn't want to imagine what Bakura had carried with him over the course of his existence.

“It's okay, you're okay.” He didn't know what else to say to calm the other male. He'd never seen Bakura like this before, and it was deeply unnerving for him to watch. Marik cradled his head with his injured hand, smoothing the other up and down his back. “Oh gods, I'm sorry. I should have been more careful.”

Bakura practically crushed himself against the former tomb keeper and wailed into his shoulder. It was heavy and somber and made Marik's gut twist, hearing Bakura wordlessly vocalize all the pain he'd kept locked away with no outlet. Marik felt it as much as he saw it; the walls were down and they wouldn't come back up until the storm had passed. Bakura clutched to him as though he would die if he didn't, cracked open and laid bare for all to see. Something about the sheer helplessness of the other male's position dragged out a part of Marik that he would have rather kept hidden in his memories. The former tomb keeper didn't notice the wet trails cutting paths down his own cheeks until hot tears dripped off of his face.

He held Bakura until the cries died down to near silent whimpers. He held him until the smaller man had stopped shaking and lay like dead weight against his chest. He held him until Bakura's breathing was nothing more than a small, defeated but steady puff of air against his neck, and even long after that, he didn't let go.

...

Almost a half hour had passed and Marik still hadn't come out of his room. Bakura hadn't either for that matter. Ishizu was patient, but she could only wait for so long given how confused she was over what had just taken place. She didn't understand why the thief had reacted in such a way but, despite herself, she felt somewhat responsible. She may not have liked Bakura, but what she'd seen in his eyes was plain-as-day, unmistakably real, fear. It was the last thing she expected from him.

So, nervous from the lack of understanding of the situation, she decided she wasn't going sit in the living room any longer. Standing up, she announced to Rishid that she was going to check on them. Rishid didn't stop her, but he did give her a cautionary look and she sighed. She didn't want to clash with Bakura any more and she wasn't approaching the room with the intention of doing so. At this point, she just wanted to make sure they were alright.

The door to the room was cracked slightly, and as she drew close she heard muffled words drifting out into the hallway.

“What just happened?” It was Bakura's voice, but it sounded hoarse, like his throat had been rubbed with sandpaper. He coughed.

“You saw me burn myself in the kitchen and you just shut down.” Her brother's voice answered. Through the crack in the door Ishizu could see the bed and a sliver of Marik's back, clothed in the green sweater he wore, but not much else.

“I don't understand why...” Bakura paused. “That's never happened to me before, but I just saw the fire and smelled the burning flesh and... it was like I was in my village again.” Another pause. It lasted for quite a while. “I'm fucking pathetic.”

Ishizu's brow furrowed a bit in thought as she mulled over the many disjointed conversations she'd had with her brother. She recalled Marik saying something about the thief losing his family in a village raid when he was young. She hadn't questioned any further on the matter at the time. Perhaps it had been easier to think that an enemy of the Pharaoh would be incapable of experiencing such horror. Bakura didn't exactly make it difficult...

But this... she couldn't view him the same way she had when she'd sensed a dark presence during the Battle City tournament.

“You've seen me at my lowest, so it's not like you have anything to be ashamed of.”

Ishizu's eyes widened a little at that. She... wasn't sure why she was surprised, but she didn't expect the degree of comfort Marik had with the thief. If that wasn't enough, when she moved forward and slowly opened the door a little more, what she saw made her stop and consider if she should be interrupting.

Bakura's arms were wrapped around Marik's waist, hands resting on his back as Marik held him closely. Marik never let anyone touch his back, not her or even Rishid. The only time he'd tolerated it was when his carvings were fresh and the bandages had to be changed, and even then he wasn't happy about it. For Bakura to be able to rest his hands there so easily spoke to her a level of trust that she couldn't believe had gone to the thief. What had Bakura done to earn that?

They were faced away from her and didn't notice her hovering at the door. She let a hand rest on the door knob, but didn't push.

A scoff. Bakura shifted against Marik slightly. His voice had dropped to something more resembling a pout. “You're one thing. Your siblings are another.”

Marik chuckled, tone dry. “I'm not going to make you be around them if you're not up to it after this.”

Ishizu's gaze fell, unsure of what to do. She never imagined she'd be put into such a situation. Instinct screamed at her to be wary of the thief, to get her brother away from him at all costs. But how could she when Marik appeared more comfortable with him than she had ever seen him look in the past few years? There was such sincerity in his tone when he spoke to the thief; it was so different than the voice he used in her presence.

Perhaps... she was going about this the wrong way.

She gave a soft sigh, stepping away from the door and quietly padding back down the hall.

...

Marik emerged from the bathroom, fresh cloth on his hand, and made his way towards the living room – sans Bakura. His siblings were sitting on the couch and looked over at his approach. Marik took a seat in the chair across from them.

“Sorry about that.”

“Is... will he be alright?” Ishizu asked, looking nervous as though it wasn't in her place to be concerned about Bakura. Marik fixed her with a long look.

“Yes.”

“I feel as though I've been intruding,” Ishizu said after a moment of pause, smoothing at the skirts of her dress. “I'm sorry. Perhaps Rishid and I should leave early...”

Marik blinked, not having expected that kind of response. “You don't have to,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I really didn't want things to turn out this way but maybe it was too early for this kind of meeting.”

“No, it was better to have had it now than later. I was worried we were getting out of touch.” She frowned at him. “I... you can't blame me for assuming the worst. Communication has been spotty at best over these past months.” After another pause, she gave a conceding exhale, as though she were coming to terms with something she really didn't want to. “But, despite Bakura's... behaviour, you two seem to be... relatively comfortable.”

Marik expected the infamous Ishtar stubbornness, he expected more passive aggression; he didn't expect Ishizu to surrender so soon. It took him a few seconds to think up a reply. “Bakura means a lot to me, and I know that you don't trust him but he's helped me a lot when I've gone through things like what happened to him just now.” He closed his eyes. “I love you but I can't go back to what I had in Egypt just to please you. It was suffocating me, and I wouldn't make Bakura go back to a place he hates either.”

She still looked disappointed, but it was the look of someone realizing there was truly nothing they could do to change the situation. She sighed again. “I respect your decisions, brother. Your path takes you elsewhere, and that's not something I should be interfering with.” She stood up, signalling the end of the discussion. “I think Rishid and I will go out for dinner.”

Marik was disarmed, feeling awkward at the sudden shift. “Are you sure? It is really late...”

She shook her head. “It's fine. It's not my intention to trap Bakura in his room.” Marik got the impression she knew more than she let on but before he could ask about it, she was already leaving, Rishid moving to follow her. “See you later.”

As he bid them off, Rishid gave him a nod and a smile, one that relieved Marik greatly. When he was alone again, he exhaled heavily and moved back over to reclaim his spot on the couch, laying back and draping his head over the armrest. Gods, that was a bit too much emotion for one night.

“Is it safe?”

Marik sat up and looked over to see Bakura poke his head around the corner of the hallway. He rolled his eyes. His siblings were just people, not landmines.

“Yes,” he said, and then brought his hand to his chin in thought. “I wonder what caused Ishizu to suddenly become so agreeable... I expected her to fret more than that.”

Bakura shrugged, sauntering over to lean against the back of the couch. “She saw you coddling me, it must have brought out some sympathy in her or something.” He raised a brow at the questioning look Marik threw him. “You didn't notice her standing in the doorway?”

Marik shook his head, surprised. Ishizu's behaviour made a little more sense now. He eyed Bakura, taking in his appearance. He seemed to have returned back to his usual self, the only evidence of his breakdown being the redness still lingering around his eyes.

“They won't be back for a long while. Do you want to do anything? I could order us takeout.”

“Sounds good.” Bakura vaulted over the back of the couch and landed beside him, immediately nestling against Marik's body. He seemed in a better mood at least. Marik raised a brow, amused, but shifted to accomadate him, sitting back with his arms wrapped around him.

“You're not usually this affectionate.” Marik spoke into the white mess of Bakura's hair.

Bakura snarled, but his hostility wasn't quite as effective when he was willingly cuddling up against the other male. “Shut up. This night has been shit.”

Marik just laughed, rubbing the thief's shoulder with his good hand. Bakura pushed his face further into the crook of Marik's neck, inhaling the faint scent of the other male's cologne and sighing. Marik smiled, lips ghosting over Bakura's temple. It would be a long while before he reached for his phone.

...

The door to the apartment opened, Ishizu and Rishid stepping inside. All was quiet aside from the hum of the television. Rishid went ahead to return the key Marik had given to them to borrow. Ishizu took off her jacket and shoes and set her bag down before proceeding.

“Marik?” She called out. Rishid appeared again, finger raised to his lips. She frowned, confused, but went to see what he was shushing her about. He smiled and gestured into the living room.

She was about to question him when she looked over and saw her brother and the thief draped over the couch, apparently having fallen asleep sometime before their return. Bakura lay on his back, one arm raised up behind his head, the other resting on Marik's back. Her brother was using the thief as a pillow, breathing deep and a content look on his face.

An empty food container lay out on the coffee table, the television still playing some program, both forgotten by the pair napping on the couch. Ishizu knew they'd probably awaken cramped and sore from the position they lay in, but she couldn't bring herself to rouse them. She reached for the remote and turned off the TV, and taking away the empty food container, throwing one last look at the two before getting ready to turn in for the night as well.

Marik and Bakura awoke the next morning, confused as to how or when they'd fallen asleep the previous night. But most of all, they questioned how they'd ended up with a blanket tucked neatly over the both of them.