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Amorphous Amour ch.1

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"Hey, hey, Bakura," Marik's voice broke through to the half-asleep albino and he felt a light pain in his shoulder.  He opened one eye lazily and, sure enough, the Egyptian was leaning over him and poking his arm with the tip of the Millenium Rod.  The blade was not exposed, but the idiot was irritating his recently healed injury.

"What is it, Marik?" Bakura grumbled, swatting the Rod away.  Marik regarded it with a pout.

"Well, I was just wondering," he twirled the Rod around in one hand like a baton, leaving Bakura to wonder how he hadn't dropped it yet.  "You haven't been going to shoot any new episodes of Zorc & Pals lately."

Bakura sighed.  "I told you, already, Marik: it was cancelled."

"What?!"  the tanned boy shrieked and aimed the head of the Rod at his 'partner' accusatively.  "When did this happen?  Why didn't you tell me?  How come I never got to make a super sexy cameo appearance?!"

Bakura ignored every question, especially that last one.  "The final episode was never released, but I kept the director's copy.  It's in my r…"

His drowsiness trailed off along with his voice as he caught himself on the brink of permitting Marik entrance to his room.  He was almost certain he had nothing to hide, but the damage that hyperactive excuse of a villain could do would be irreparable.

"I'll go find it!"  Marik chirped, already bounding out of the makeshift living room.  Bakura leapt from the battered recliner and chased after his companion, racing past him and blocking the entrance to his room.  Marik pursed his lips in a pout once more.

"I'll find it," Bakura said sternly.  "It'll be quicker that way."

"And it'll be even quickier if I help!"  Marik pounded a fist against his own chest proudly.  Bakura thought about telling him 'quickier' wasn't a word, but started having thoughts about quickies with Marik in his room instead.

"No," the brit said finally, twisting to hide his face in his hair just in case.  "Go wait in the parlour."

Marik tilted his head, "where?"

"The living room, you prat."

Marik frowned. "Come again?"

"Go sit in front of the television!" Bakura snapped, disappearing into his room with a slam of the door.


Marik did as he was told and Bakura returned to find the Egyptian with his legs bent against his chest, one arm around them, leaning forward, and fingering the opening to the VCR.  Bakura emitted the smallest chuckle, earning the boy's attention, but when Marik turned suddenly he pulled his finger back and got it stuck in the device.  Bakura had less than two seconds to recognize the look in the other's eyes and snatch the Rod from his reach before it could be used as a hammer on their already-suffering dust-covered technology.

"Give it back, Bakura!" Marik whined, yanking his trapped hand and consequently tightening the hold the VCR mouth had on it.  He began to spew a string of curses in either Arabic or Egyptian; it was too incoherent to tell.

"Calm down, Marik," Bakura hissed, kneeling beside his friend and stretching an arm across his shoulders.  "Look," he pointed, "See what's happening?  The door folds down to close, so each time you pull you're only closing it more."

Marik's eyes widened, "then how do I get it off?!"

Bakura studied him for a moment to ascertain he was serious, then sighed.  "Push forward"

Marik looked at his hand and back to Bakura skeptically.  "Why would I?"

"Just do it."

Again, Marik did as he was told.  The cover tilted inward and his eyes lit up.  "I'm fr—igging Hell, Bakura!  It didn't work!"

Bakura slapped his face into his palm.  As soon as Marik had sensed freedom, he'd yanked his hand back and lodged it in the console once more.  Before the Egyptian could do more damage, Bakura gripped his shoulder tightly and grumbled, "Only you could be this stupid, Marik."

Marik winced at the touch but didn't hear the words.  Bakura jolted his companion's arm forward, earning a sassy cry of pain from the other which he ignored.  He held the VCR open and allowed Marik to remove his hand and jump away flamboyantly.  Bakura sat back and watched the inevitable fit unfold as Marik wagged his injured finger at the device offensively.

"We… we need to get rid of that thing, Bakura!  It… owwwww…"  Marik drew in his hand, cradling it with the other and gazing down at his scraped knuckle.  He attempted to make a fist and winced when the damaged skin threatened to split.  "Well, that's just great," he glared at Bakura, "I always hold my Rod in this hand!"

Bakura choked on shock as that sentence translated to the unintended meaning in his mind.  He rose quickly and strode over to Marik, gripping the latter by the shoulders and shoving him onto the couch.  Marik made a small noise of annoyance but stayed where he was thrown, his eyes switching between his hand and his housemate who was investigating the VCR before putting in the tape he'd retrieved.  For a moment, Marik had forgotten what it was they were watching, then the picture began to come in.


Bakura was sitting in his tall red and gold chair and adjusting the collar of his black trench coat.  Voices could be heard off-screen.



"Who's that talking, Bakura?"  Marik asked.

"That's the audience, mostly," Bakura said thoughtfully.  "That louder voice is the director."

Marik listened for the louder voice.


"We've got one minute till our first take, guys," the louder voice said.  "Florence, are you ready?"

Bakura scowled.  "Not really, I need to talk to Zorc before…"

"No can do, Flor, he's already in position."



Marik giggled.  "He called you Flor."

"Yes, he did, Mar…"

"Flor~" he echoed, giggling harder.  "It makes you sound gay!  Oh, wait…"

Bakura sighed and eased into the recliner.


Their argument had ceased and Bakura looked troubled.  As the cameraman could be heard counting down to 'action', the spirit sighed and put on his best smirk.

The camera panned to Zorc who bellowed his first line, "and now it's time to destroy the world… again!"

Bakura crossed his arms,  "Zorc, you've destroyed the world over a dozen times now.  I'm not sure how you even managed it, but it's starting to get rather dull."

"But, you used to love it when I destroyed the world!" Zorc protested.

"Yes," Bakura agreed, "it used to excite me, but now it feels as though that's all we have.  It's like we don't really have anything in common anymore."



Marik glanced at Bakura who seemed to be watching through glazed eyes.  He bit back his question.


"…and crushing those who stand against us," Zorc was saying.  There was a pause before Bakura spoke.

"Zorc… there's someone else."



Marik gasped along with the audience and leaned in intently.  Bakura offered him a curious glance.


"I've started seeing another villain, and believe it or not he
doesn't want to destroy the world."

"Well, good, because I already did that!"  Zorc replied snidely.  The audience laughed.  Bakura didn't.

"I'm breaking up with you, Zorc."

"This is the saddest day of my life!"  Zorc cried, "I must find a way to express my misery."

"Let me guess," Bakura rolled his eyes, "you're going to destroy the world?"

"Ye… no!"  Zorc's eyes glowed angrily.  "I'm going to destroy… the studio audience!  Feel my wrath!"



Marik's eyes flashed as they reflected the ball of fire that flew off-screen.  The feed cut and he gaped at Bakura who was eyeing him with false apathy.

"Who are you seeing, Bakura?"

Brown eyes widened.  He hadn't expected the Egyptian to pick that out after Zorc's display of misery, but it would be untrue to say he wasn't intrigued.  "Why does that matter?"

"We're supposed to be partners!"  Marik cried, jumping upand pointing dramatically.  "Partners tell each other everything!"  he strode over and gripped the collar of Bakura's tee.  "Who are you seeing, Bakura?  How long have you been with him?  Is he prettier than me?!"

Bakura licked his lips and pressed them into a fine line.  He grasped one of Marik's wrists and squeezed it tightly.  "Let go."

Marik let go and pressed his open palms against Bakura's chest instead, leaning over now with their faces mere inches apart.  Bakura had half a mind to trigger to recliner's footrest which would send Marik tumbling into his lap, but decided against it.  He sighed and stared into Marik's eyes.

"Well, I'm not sure how long I've been with him," he started slowly.  "Sometimes it feels like we just met, other times I can't remember life without him."

Marik's eyes widened with great interest as he reveled in this rare moment of openness.  Bakura smirked.

"He's not too bright, and I don't think he's spent a day of his life by himself.  His brother is always trying to protect him."

"Does his brother like you?" Marik asked.  Bakura thought about it and shook his head.

"I'm not sure, really.  He's never mentioned our relationship."

Marik nodded, "go on.  What does he look like?"

Bakura's eyes narrowed, then softened as he brushed a loose, sandy blonde lock behind tanned ears.  "He's got pale hair… nowhere near as pale as mine, though…" Bakura traced a finger down Marik's jawline.  "He's kind of girly," brown eyes trailed down the slender body which was bent effeminately.  "Good figure though…" his voice trailed, then he returned his gaze to Marik's eyes and smirked.  "He likes to show off his midriff."

"Just like me!"  Marik stood proudly and stretched his arms in the air, lifting his cropped shirt even higher.

"Yes," Bakura agreed, thinking quickly, "he's dark-skinned, too."

Marik's eyes widened in awe, then snapped shut as crossed his arms stubbornly.  "I'll bet it's not real!  Everybody wants a tan nowadays, they're all realizing how sexy it is to have sun-kissed skin, but they're all too lazy to do it the right way so they get those fake orange tans or go to booths and get burned…" he suddenly tore off his shirt and pointed to his shoulders, "they get lines here, and here… I mean, how lazy can you be!  It's not that hard to at least get the upper body right."

Bakura caught himself gaping and snapped his jaw shut, clearing his throat loudly.  "Yes, well…"

"And don't even get me started on lower bodies!"  the Egyptian continued to rant, one hand on his hip and the other waving to emphasize his words.  "I know it's hard but if you don't want to tan everywhere then you shouldn't tan at all.  I laid out in the sun for hours to make sure my tan was even.  See?  I'll show you."

Bakura sputtered something that wanted to be Marik's name and any word of protest.  The Egyptian paused in the midst of undoing his belt and glanced at his friend quizzically.

"What's the matter, Bakura?"  he asked, then had a realization before the other could speak, "Oh, I know!  You don't want to see me naked because you'll feel like you're cheating on your boyfriend!  Well, I don't want to make you any more attracted to me than you already are, I'll just put my shirt back on."

Bakura sighed.  He was used to Marik's ignorance and arrogance by now but that unexpected rant ruined the smooth transition he'd been trying to make into revealing his feelings.  Now, they were a step ba…

"Oof!"  Bakura's body jolted as Marik swung himself over the arm of the recliner and landed promptly in his lap, grinning like the idiot he was.  Bakura strongly willed his blood to lie dormant; flowing north meant he'd blush, opening a new can of worms for the Egyptian to play with.  Flowing south…

"So, come on!" Marik bounced, "tell me more about your lover.  You still haven't told me if he's sexier than me, even though I know that's not possible.  Oh!  Does he know we're living together?  You have to make sure to tell him I'm not gay so he won't worry about me."

Bakura's head was spinning and he groaned in annoyance (as well as to release the moan that threatened to escape every time Marik's pert bottom left and returned to his crotch).  Marik stopped and eyed him suspiciously.

"Wait a minute," rusty gears seemed to be turning then jammed again, "if you're in a relationship, how am I just finding out about it now?  We spend almost every day together!"

Bakura decided only blunt hints could work now, "I see him almost every day, Marik."

Lavender eyes widened.  "How is that possible?!  Do you sneak out at night?"  he gasped suddenly, "is he staying in your room?  He is, isn't he?!  That's why you never let me go in there!" he looked through the entrance to the living room and narrowed his eyes as his brain continued to work in its unique way.  "Wait a minute… if you've been hiding another person here, why haven't I seen him?"

Bakura shrugged, "I'm not sure, he certainly parades around enough."

Marik tensed, "so he is living here!  Oh, Bakura, how many other secrets are you keeping from me?!"

"Just one," Bakura mused.  Marik suddenly wrinkled his nose.

"Not that I'm complaining," he premised, "but if your boyfriend has been living with you, why haven't I ever heard you having sex?"

Bakura fixed his gaze on the blonde.  "We haven't done it yet."

Marik drew back skeptically.  "I don't think I believe that."

Bakura nodded, "it's true," now his own mental gears began turning, "go ask him yourself."

"Fine, I will!"  Marik twisted his body and hopped off the recliner.  Bakura rolled his eyes back and closed them tight, biting back the moan provoked by the Egyptian's ass grinding against his crotch when he'd turned.  His thoughts were cut short but the piercing demand, "Are you coming?"

Brown eyes opened wide and the spirit's mind worked quickly to decipher the real reason for the question.  He glanced over and saw Marik waiting at the parlour doorframe and nodded slowly, rising to follow his partner.

"How do I know he won't lie to me?" Marik asked as they approached Bakura's room.

"Trust me," Bakura steadied his voice and his nerves, "you'll know."

Marik quirked a brow then shrugged and gripped the door handle.  Before turning it he glanced back over his shoulder.  "Maybe you should go in first.  He hasn't met me yet and it might be awkward…"

"It'll be awkward either way," Bakura replied tensely.  "Besides, he's seen you, he knows who you are."

"I still don't get how I haven't noticed him around here," Marik shook his head and opened the door.

"It's alright, Marik," Bakura whispered, "you'll understand soon enough."
a·mor·phous: of no particular kind or character; indeterminate; having no pattern or structure; unorganized.

a·mour: an illicit or secret love affair.

Ohai. In the true manner of hypocrisy, after whining about LK's takeover of the YGO fandom, I'm writing a YGOTAS fanfic! :icondignitylaughplz:

So, yeah. Enjoy, because it's not over yet~

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DeviantDragoness's avatar
congratz for the feature in the group Starlit!