Yaaaaaaaaay update! Party time! (I think)

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Go away.

“So, what are you wearing?”

“What?” Bakura sat straight up on the couch, crimson eyes snapping open. Had he heard Malik correctly? “That’s a bit forward...”

“What... No!” On the other end, Malik cringed. “I mean, what are you wearing tonight, you idiot. Like, clothes.”

“Why do you want to know?” Bakura asked smugly, watching from the corner of his eye as Ryou closed the apartment door behind himself, lugging several shopping bags. He set them down on the table, and headed into the bathroom silently, without looking at Bakura. “Do you want to match?”

“Bakura!” Maliks’ cheeks flushed. “No, I was just wondering if you knew what you were getting yourself into tonight.”

“Well, I am going to wear an Italian-made tuxedo, with a purple silk cummerbund and a matching tie.” Bakura muttered sarcastically. “I was going to wear a velvet cape, but I thought it a bit much.”

“... Really.” Malik couldn’t tell if Bakura was serious or not, so ambiguous was his tone. Bakura bit back a groan. “Really?”

“Of course.” The man rolled his eyes. “That’s what we wear at high school dances in England.”

“... Really?” Bakura would have smacked Malik, were he near.

“No!” He shouted, shaking his head, wild white hair falling across his face. “You clot, I was kidding. I was just going to wear normal clothes... Why do you care so much?”

“Well, I-”

“Malik, I’m just jerking you around.” Bakura shook his head with a long sigh. “I think Ryou’s been shopping with Seto’s credit card. He brought a lot of bags home and they look expensive. Maybe he’ll have something nice, if it’s that important.”

“Speaking of which,” Maliks’ voice took a more serious tone. “How is Ryou?” Bakura sighed deeply, and stared at the shut bathroom door. “Bakura, what happened?”

“... It’s over now.” Bakura put his feet up on the coffee table, crossing his legs. “I sorted it all out. And Ryou says he’s okay.” He didn’t add that he was still extremely worried at the way Ryou was actually holding himself together. Bakura would have been much more comfortable if Ryou would just crawl into bed and sob for days. This facade of normality was unsettling. But how long has Ryou had to constantly wear it?

“Why can’t you tell me what happened?” Malik asked, on the other end of the line. Bakura paused, and bit on his lip. He didn’t exactly know how to answer that question. “Bakura?”

“I think Ryou would be more comfortable if I kept it between us.” Bakura said gently, but with a firmness that implied butt out before you get in too deep. “He’ll tell you when he’s ready.”

“... A-All right.” Malik sighed, stretched out on the couch at his house. “I- Shit.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Bakura asked on the other end, his tone wary.

“Nothing, Dad’s just home.” The Egyptian bit his lip, downcast. “Look, I have to go. He’ll think it’s weird if I have a long phone conversation with a boy... Sorry.”

“What, so he has something to be worried about?” Bakura was flirting shamelessly, and the both of them knew it. “Why can’t you say I’m just a classmate?”

“Because-” Malik caught himself, just in time. Because you’re not. He mouthed a swear word to himself, and rubbed at his eyes. “Look, I really have to go. I’ll see you at the dance tonight, all right?”

“A-All right...” Bakura nodded. “Bye Malik.”

“Bye...” Malik murmured, somewhat regretfully, and set down the phone. He slowly sat up on the couch, wrapping his arms around his legs. He felt confused. And... Scared. He knew that what he felt for Bakura was genuine. It felt like more than a silly teenage crush, that he had experienced before, or a simple physical attraction. It was like... Malik liked to spend time with Bakura. He felt like he’d known him longer than a few days. A lot longer. But that’s how I felt with Ryou, as well. He was just so easy to talk to. I think that’s why we... God looking back, that was a mistake. I mean, I’d only known him for a couple of weeks, and all that, but...

It doesn’t seem like a mistake. It was the old ‘one thing led to another scenario’, sure, but it’s not like I was hating myself the next day or anything. And it never made anything awkward between us. That’s just weird, really.

This whole thing is so weird. I just wish that life could be simple again, instead of all messed up like this.

But then Bakura wouldn’t be here. And that would really be awful. Malik bit his lip. I do like him. A lot. Shit, I’m nervous now. What’s going to happen tonight?

“You all right?” Bakura asked as soon as Ryou closed the bathroom door behind himself. Ryou nodded silently, and headed back to the table, picking up his bags. “How’s Seto going?”

“All right.” Ryou kept his voice quiet, almost flat. “We had a coffee at this really nice place. Everyone but me was in a suit...”

“Ew.” Bakura wrinkled his nose in a snarl. “Fuck that. So what’s in the bags, anyway?”

“Oh!” Ryou had brightened considerably. “Well, we got talking about tonight, and when I mentioned I didn’t have anything nice to wear, Seto gave me his credit card and told me to go nuts.”

“Really?” Bakura looked over to Ryou with considerable interest. “He just gave it to you?” Ryou nodded. “How much did you spend?”

“I’m... not sure...” Ryou admitted, nibbling on his lower lip. “He told me to only make sure I got the best... so I did, but it was so expensive...”

“Well, did you overspend or something?” Bakura frowned. “I’m sure Seto won’t even care.”

“It wasn’t my fault.” Ryou defended himself, starting to look a little distressed. “It was the sales clerk. The moment he saw I had a platinum card, he started getting so welcoming and helpful and... persuasive.”

“Oh, boy.” Bakura sighed, shaking his head. “I gotta see this.” He jumped over the back of the couch, and started heading into the bedroom. Ryou followed anxiously. “Kaiba’s worth billions, I don’t think he’ll even care.”

“I hope not.” Ryou wrung his hands as Bakura opened the first bag curiously. “Those are shirts... I didn’t want to get so many, but the clerk said they would look so nice on me and it was good value...”

“Christ.” Bakura lifted out a chocolate brown button-down, examining the fabric. “Ryou, that would bring out your eyes brilliantly.”

“That’s what he said!” Ryou wailed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “And he said it was on sale, too...”

“... Eight hundred dollars?” Bakura spluttered. “That’s a sale?” Ryou nodded mournfully, his insides twisting with guilt. “God Ryou...”

“I know...”

“But it looks so nice... Even the brown is nice. It’s a warm shade... Try it on for me.” Ryou blinked as Bakura threw the bunched up shirt at him. “Go on.”

“A-All right.” Ryou agreed without protest, lifting his drab-looking tee-shirt over his head. Bakura watched as Ryou slowly fastened the buttons, then stood up, fluffing the hair from his collar and pulling at the shirt uncomfortably. “There.”

“I like it.” Bakura nodded, satisfied, crossing his arms. “It’s nice.”

“I think it’s a little tight...” Ryou bit his lip, smoothing out the shirt, and examining himself in the mirror.

“No, it’s not.” Bakura rolled his eyes. “It’s supposed to show off shape like that. Think, if it was baggy on you, you would just be swimming in brown. Now, what else have you got?”

“Well...” Ryou started unbuttoning his shirt, which he shrugged out of, and poked through the bag. “This one is what I’m going to wear tonight. Apparently it makes me look really ‘sweet’...”

“Show.” Bakura muttered almost immediately, earning Ryou a smile.

“All right.” He pulled the shirt, a pretty pale blue, out of the bag. “Do you like it?”

“I actually do...” Bakura muttered. “And yeah, blue would look really nice on you. It’s almost worth the... nine-hundred-and-eighty dollars you paid for it.” Holy shit.

“I know, it’s too expensive.” Ryou’s shoulders slumped. “I should take it all back, I know. Seto never meant for me to spend so much...”

“Ryou, if he was worried about how much you were going to spend, he wouldn’t have let you lose with a Platinum card.” Bakura reasoned. “How much did you spend all up? Was it under five thousand dollars?”

“... Umm...” Ryou took in a deep breath, and looked around, his cheeks flushing.

“Oh Ryou...”

“I’m sorry!” Ryou pleaded, clearly distressed. “I-I know it was so wrong and I would take it all back tonight, but the store would be closed by now, and I... Oh Bakura... Seto’s going to be so furious at me...”

“He won’t.” Bakura looked in the bag. There were still two more shirts. “This just means you nice expensive clothes to wear when Seto takes you out somewhere in a really posh place... You said you felt out of place at the café, didn’t you?”

“Yeah...” Ryou relented. “I-I’ll ask him tonight if it’s okay... In the meantime, I don’t think I should wear any of this, in case it has to be returned.”

“Oh hell no!” Ryou looked up as Bakura picked up Ryou’s most daring purchase, a tight-fitting shirt of deep crimson-maroon. “Ryou, you have excellent taste!”

“Oh, I didn’t pick that.” Ryou blushed a little. “I personally think that it makes me look like some sort of dominatrix...”

“That’s a look I can cope with.” Bakura smirked, pulling off his shirt, and tearing the tag off the maroon piece of clothing relentlessly. Ryou’s eyes widened in alarm. “The fabric feels wonderful... It’s like silk, but at the same time so sturdy...”

“And a bargain at just four hundred dollars.” Ryou winced. “And now you ripped off the tag, I can never return it...”

“Oh, you’re not returning this.” Bakura admired the shirt on himself in the mirror. “What do you think? Do I suit it? Is it too tight?”

“... No, it’s not.” Ryou tilted his head to one side. “I thought it was a bit close-fitting on me, so I swapped it for the next size up when the clerk wasn’t looking. You pull it off great, Bakura.”

“Oh, I know.” Bakura grinned, exposing his canines for a moment. “If I wear this with my pants, I’d turn heads for sure.”

“Turn Maliks’ head, don’t you mean.” Ryou smiled as Bakura started to unbutton the shirt, terrified he would stain or wrinkle it before the evening. “That’s the plan, isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s the plan.” Bakura folded the shirt, and set it on top of the drawers. “Come on. You have to admit that shirt is incredibly sexy, no?”

“It is.” Ryou agreed with a nod. “Do you want to see what else I got?” He rustled two other bags, and Bakura nodded, grabbing at them eagerly. “No bondage-style gear for you Bakura, sorry.”

“The shirt is plenty.” Bakura muttered gratefully, and pulled out a shoe-box. “You got some shoes?” Ryou nodded, as Bakura lifted the lid. “Never one to admire shoes. A pair of boots always suit me fine. But those look really nice.” He set the box down on the bed, and looked inside the last bag. “Are these the pants you’re wearing?”

“I got two pairs.” Ryou explained as Bakura pulled out a pair of light grey trousers. “I’m wearing those with the blue.”

“That’ll look nice.” Bakura approved. “Seto will think you’re absolutely adorable. That is the point of this, yes?”

“Well, it’s not like he’s seen me actually dress up before.” Ryou reminded his demonic counterpart. “It’s all just been school clothes. I can scrub up well if I make the effort.”

“I think you look nice anyway.” Bakura ruffled Ryou’s soft hair, earning a squeak of protest from the boy. “What? You look cute. You’re like... a bunny.”

“... A bunny?” Ryou turned, and glared at Bakura. “Really?”

“Yes.” Bakura chuckled. “Well, you have the big bunny-brown eyes.” Ryou narrowed said orbs at him distrustfully. “And cute white fuzz.” Ryou batted at Bakura’s hands as his hair was abused again. “And you’re just so... So...”

“So?” Ryou’s hands were on his hips, challenging the man.

“Adorable.” Ryou gasped as Bakura pushed him onto the bed, looking up at him with large, accusing brown eyes. “See? Look at that face! It’s so cute!”

“You...” Bakura’s eyes widened as Ryou pulled him down on the bed also, wrinkling the clothes, but not caring. “You’re so mean!”

“Oh, don’t start pouting now, bunny.” Bakura teased, shucking Ryou under the chin teasingly. Ryou’s nose wrinkled, and he grabbed at Bakura’s arms. “Hey!”

“I’m not a bunny!” Bakura gasped as Ryou pushed him onto the mattress. “Take it back!”

“I wish I could... Bunny.” Bakura grinned wickedly, but was soon paying for his teasing. “H-hey!” He gasped as Ryou started tickling him in the sides. “S-S-Stop!”

“Say I’m not a bunny!” Ryou demanded, leaning over Bakura, just a little, as he tickled him. Bakura arched his back in fits of laughter, breathless.

“O-O-Okay!” He gasped, his face bright red. “A-All right!” Ryou slowed his assault, waiting for the surrender.

“All right what?” He asked, tilting his head to one side.

“I-I’m sorry.” Bakura still panted for air, wiping at his sweaty brow. Ryou settled back, satisfied. “I’m sorry you’re such a fuzzy bunny.”

“Hey!” Ryou cried out, and made to attack Bakura again, but before he could move, the man had him by the wrists, and was staring him in the eye. “That’s nor fair!”

“What’s not fair? I’m complementing you.” Bakura reasoned, watching the way emotions passed through the whitenette’s large brown eyes. “You don’t like praise?”

“You called me a bunny.” Ryou said, shooting Bakura an accusing look. “That’s not praise. That’s just mean.”

“But I don’t think so.” Bakura smiled genuinely. “Bunnies are so cute and adorable. And you just wanna... hug them!” Ryou yelped as Bakura wrapped his arms around Ryou in a tight hug. “See?”

“Bakura... What’s gotten into you?” Ryou asked incredulously as Bakura stood up, and finally started to put a shirt on again. “You’re so... giddy. And childish.”

“I’m just happy.” Bakura reasoned. “And excited. Think about what’s going to happen tonight! Or what could happen.”

“Spose...” Ryou looked thoughtful as he pulled his tee-shirt back over his head. He just realise that during their close encounter, both were shirtless. “Do you think that tonight could be the night?”

“Well, I’m hoping, of course.” Bakura reasoned, looking at his hair in the mirror. “But I don’t want to push anything. I’m just going to take it depending on how Malik goes. But it could be. This time tomorrow, I could be a powerful demon again.”

“I can’t wait.” Ryou said genuinely. He really couldn’t. Bakura caught his gaze in the mirror reflection, and smiled again.

“I know you can’t wait... bunny.”

Ryou rolled his eyes.

“So... What the hell are you supposed to uh, do?”

Bakura sighed, staring around the large hall with his hands jammed in his pockets. Otogi and Jou were off in conversation, looking deadly serious, Ryou was alternating glances between his watch and the door, hopeful, while Malik stared down at his shoes. “You guys never seemed the wallflowers. ‘Specially not you, Malik.”

“... Eh.” He shrugged. “I don’t dance. I’m just waiting until someone spikes the punch. Ryou, stop looking so anxious. Seto is gonna show up.”

“I-I know that!” Ryou’s cheeks flushed a little. “Just... Ugh. Don’t Malik.”

“Look, calm down.” Bakura muttered. “I don’t get it... It’s supposed to be a dance, but pretty much no one is dancing... I don’t think I understand you crazy kids.”

“Thanks?” Malik crossed his arms. “And you’re only two years older, Bakura. Not even that.” Bakura shot Ryou a knowing look, suppressing a smile. Oh Malik... If only you had some idea...

“Well then.” Bakura raised an eyebrow at Malik. “Dance?”

“Wh-What?” Malik spluttered, his mouth falling open. “Me? Dance? B-But I can’t dance at all! And no way, it would be so embarrassing.”

“Fine.” Bakura shrugged, and grabbed at Ryou’s wrist, a plan forming in his head. “Ryou’ll dance with me.”

“What?” Where was this coming from? Before Ryou had a chance to protest, however, Bakura had started walking away from Malik, who actually looked rather like a fish at the time, and found a somewhat clearer space in the middle of the dance floor. “Bakura... What are you doing?”

“Just roll with it.” Ryou’s eyes widened as Bakura locked their fingers together, and rested his hands on the teenagers’ hip, drawing them close together. “I assume you know how to dance?”

“A-A little...” Ryou stammered, looking like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Bakura, please... This song isn’t right for a dance... A-And I don’t really remember how... Come on...”

“Shush.” Ryou bit his lip as Bakura started to move his feet. “I’ll just lead you.”

“A-all right...” Ryou reluctantly accepted. “As long as you don’t – woa!” Ryou gasped as Bakura dipped him back considerably. “Hey!”

“What?” Bakura said in a mocking tone, before grabbing Ryou tightly, and whirling him around.

“Hey!” Ryou protested as soon as he was righted, his teeth gritted. “Stop it!”

“... No.” The whitenette cried out as Bakura surprisingly spun him again. “This is fun... Is Malik watching?”

“Of course he is!” Ryou tried to follow Bakura’s complicated dance steps, which were starting to pick up in pace. “Bakura, please... This isn’t funny anymore...”

“Oh, shut up.” Bakura released his hand on Ryou’s hips, and stepped back, before pulling on the teenagers’ hand, Ryou speechless as he twirled into Bakura’s chest, the back of his head against Bakura’s collarbone.

“Stop.” Ryou’s voice was trembling. “Pl-” He gasped as Bakura pulled on his arm again, so they were facing each other.

“No.” Ryou gave Bakura a look of despair, but the smirk on the mans’ face didn’t lessen. “This is fun.”

“No, it’s not!” Ryou moaned, whimpering as Bakura dipped him again, so low that his hair really did touch the floor this time. “Bakura, please!” It was more than just Malik who was watching.

“You’re not having fun?” Bakura muttered, but with a smirk on his face. “Well, that’s just too bad, isn’t it?”

“Bakura!” Ryou gasped, as Bakura picked up the pace. “Wh-where the heck did you learn to dance?”

“I’ve been around for a while, remember.” Bakura muttered into Ryou’s ear.

“Y-Yeah, but, people weren’t dancing like that when you were still... Demonic.” Ryou pulled apart from the man with a frown. “Were they?”

“Marik and I used to dance.” Bakura gripped Ryou’s hands tightly for a second, then relaxed his hold a little, raising Ryou’s arms, and spinning him around. Ryou’s breath caught in his throat, up against Bakura, and his cheeks flushed, just a little. “In private.”

“This isn’t private!” Ryou protested, pulling apart from Bakura, and spinning around. Before he could walk away, however, Bakura pulled him back in, their noses inches apart. “Bakura, please.” Ryou’s voice took a low, urgent tone. “People are looking...”

“Good for them.” Bakura said easily. “Ryou, they think we’re just cousins. Don’t worry, okay?”

“B-But I...”

“Not listening.” Bakura smirked wickedly, placing one hand on Ryou’s hip.

Malik sighed, as he doled the sickly-looking liquid into the squat paper cup. Bracing himself, the Egyptian took a small, daring sip of the punch, before his features relaxed into a smile, and he knocked the rest down in one gulp, the sharp sting of strong vodka tainting his tongue. Ugh. He made himself another, and walked back to his original position by the bleachers. Bakura had finally shown Ryou some mercy and stopped dancing, and was now leading the teenager back to the wall.

“Have fun?” Malik muttered into his cup, shaking his head slightly. Ryou looked miserable. And Bakura seemed on the edge of a fit of laughter. “What the hell? Why are you so happy today?”

“Why are people asking me that all the time?” The smile was gone from his face, and his eyes flashed. “Do people expect me to be angry and miserable all the time, or something? Am I not allowed to actually be joyful at all?”

“Bakura, no!” Ryou protested, shaking his head. “It’s not like that... Well, I don’t think it like that at all! If anything, I’m glad to see that you’re happy.” He gave Bakura a small smile. “Sorry for thinking it’s just...” Something flickered in Ryou’s face, and he broke into a wide smile. “Seto!”

“Well, there you go.” Malik muttered dryly, as Ryou pushed past him in his eagerness to get to the brunette. “Glad to know where we stand.”

“It’s not like that.” Bakura leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “He’s just... in a crush.”

“Lovestruck, more like.” The blonde drained the rest of his drink. “You know, if you ask me, Ryou’s blown this all out of proportion for himself.”

“Of course he has.”

“No, I mean...” Malik sighed, trying to phrase what was running through his head. “You know he’s liked Seto for months. He would have had all of these like... imaginings, and fantasies and whatnot. He must have. God knows I... That’s not important.” Malik shook his head, tan cheeks blushing, faintly. “But... What if he gets too worked up and takes this too seriously? He’s going to be heartbroken when Seto breaks it off...”

“I know.” Bakura muttered, his gaze locked on the floor.

“Then why don’t you tell him?” Malik crushed the empty paper cup in his hand, the thin cardboard folding effortlessly. “He’ll listen to you!... Wont he?”

“Of course he won’t.” Bakura muttered. “You think I haven’t tried to talk to him about this? Ryou just doesn’t want to listen. He just... He’s got this stupid idea about how Seto really cares about him and that it’s going to last for ages or something... It’s so frigging deluded.”

“Maybe we have to do something.” Malik kept his voice low, shooting Bakura a furtive glance. The white-haired man looked up, a frown on his sharp features.

“What do you mean?” He didn’t understand, needed further explanation. Malik bit his lip, looking inwardly troubled. “Malik?”

“Maybe we should break them up.” Malik had shuffled a little closer to Bakura, keeping his voice barely above the whisper. He knew the dangers of people hearing ‘private’ conversations, and the damage that had been caused. He’d been on the receiving end of it, several times. The man stilled at his side. “Before Ryou gets in too deep.” Malik tried to defend himself. “Before Seto gets Ryou too close to him and manages to get Ryou to trust him completely. That way, it’ll sorta hurt less...”

“No.” Bakura gritted his teeth, hand clenched. “I want to Malik. I want Ryou to stop living in this deluded fantasy where he thinks Seto actually gives a crap, but what if he caught us out? He would never speak to either of us again. I couldn’t handle that. And imagine how crushed he would be. I could never out Ryou through that much pain. No way.” Bakura closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think. At his side, Malik was still chewing on his lower lip, his mind seemingly a million miles away.

“So we just wait until Ryou gets hurt?” The Egyptian looked over at Bakura. “Come on... That’s just like lying to him. Worse. I can’t sit there and try and be happy for Ryou when I know it’s wrong.”

“You’re going to.” Bakura shot Malik a deathly glance. “Butt out of them. I know you don’t want to. Trust me, neither do I. I just want to pry them apart, but... Look.” He jerked his head in the direction of Ryou, and sighed. The teenager was leaning on Seto’s shoulder, a black-clothed arm around his skinny frame, perched on the third row of the bleachers. Seto was saying something, low and secretive to Ryou, who appeared to giggle, bowing his head and holding a hand to his mouth as his shoulders shook. “He’s happy. And when have you seen him that cheerful? Seriously?”

“A lot recently.” There was something in Bakura’s tone that made him stop, and stare Malik in the eye. The blonde returned the gaze with equal intensity. “Happier, even.”

“When?” Bakura challenged, the music thudding in the background, loud enough to be annoying, but not so loud he couldn’t think.

“When he’s with you.” Malik muttered softly, before walking off to go get more punch.

“Hey, Jou.”

“Mmm.” The blonde took another gulp of his paper cup. Malik looked at him in concern, his eyebrows knitting in a frown.

“Jounouchi... What’s wrong? Why so glum?”

“I’ll give you a hint.” Jou muttered, leaning against the wall morosely. “He’s tall, got gorgeous blue eyes, and an ego the size of his bank balance.”

“Seto?” Malik answered the rhetorical question, earning a bleak nod from Jou. “And Ryou?”

“It’s not Ryou’s fault.” Jou looked down at his empty cup. “I know it ‘aint. But it still... hurts.” Jou slowly slid down the wall, letting the paper cup frop to the floor, and lower his head into his hands with a low moan. “How the hell can he do this?”

“You act like I’m condoning this.” Malik kneeled in front of Jounouchi, biting his lip. “I know Seto’s lying. And trust me, I really want to do something about it. But Bakura... Hes saying we need to keep out of it, for Ryou’s sake. But I just... Now, I’m not so sure. Ryou’s getting too involved with this...”

“If I could make it stop, I would.” Jounouchi sighed deeply, staring down at the shiny, waxed floor. “I really, really would.”

“But you can.” Malik reminded the brown—eyed teen. “Seto’s only screwing around with Ryou to make you insanely jealous. And it’s working, isn’t it?”

“... Yeah.” Jou looked up from the floor. “What’s your point? What do you want me to do?”

“”I just want you to talk to Seto. Sort out where you are. I know you want to get back with him. And you know it too. Please, just try and talk to him. For Ryou, if nothing else.”

“It’s not that easy.” Jounouchi shot back, muttering. “I can’t just simply forget everything that he’s phone to me. Everything he missed out on, because of his stupid job. If you were on a relationship like mine and Seto’s, you would be breaking it off, too. Trust me. I just... Didn’t see all the disappointment and pain worth it anymore.”

“... True.” Malik sighed, eyes on the floor. “But... Jounouchi, I don’t mean you have to go and instantly make up with him. I’m not that stupid. I just want you and Seto to talk. Just to try and...”

“All right.” Jounouchi heaved a long sigh, and rubbed at his eyes. “Do you think you can get Ryou away from Seto for a few moments? Just so I can pull him away.” Malik nodded, giving the other blonde a small smile.

“Sure. I’ll just say I have... Err...”

“You wanna ask him about Bakura?” Jou smirked wickedly, referring to the man who had just retreated to the mens’ room. Malik opened his mouth, ready to retaliate in outrage. “Hey, I know you like him, Malik. Don’t worry.”

“I don-”

“Just hurry up.” Jou muttered, shooting Malik a dark look before slinking off, hiding in the crowd, as Malik steeled his nerves, and approached the semi-crowded bleachers, where Seto was currently ravishing Ryou’s tender mouth, a hand snaking up his shirt.

“Uh, Ryou?” Malik asked, in a meek tone, but his voice was loud. Ryou started, and pulled apart from Seto to give the blonde a look of confusion. “Can I... Can I talk with you, for a moment? It’s sorta important...”

“All right.” Ryou nodded. He muttered a quick ‘be right back’ to Seto, and kissed his cheek, before climbing down the few rows of wooden benches, until he stood beside Malik, head cocked to one side. “What’s up?”

“Can we go somewhere quiet?” Malik asked, sounding nervous. “And uh, private? It’s about Bakura.” He elaborated, jamming his hands into the pocket of his trousers.

“Oh!” If anything, Ryou brightened a little, then nodded. “Sure.” Malik led the way through the crowd, and out the back doors, which overlooked the sports field. It was dotted with people huddled against the wall smoking, or slumped over each other in the far corners of the grass, obviously trying to get intimate in private. “What was on your mind?” Ryou asked the moment he judged they could talk freely. “What’s wrong with Bakura?”

“I.. Well...” Malik scratched his head, realising for the first time that he didn’t actually have any type of plan to go on. What’s the most open, ambiguous question on Bakura that I can think of? “I just... I want to make sure I’m not... I dunno... Getting over my head?” Malik asked, before taking a seat on the grass, his legs crossed.

“Oh!” Ryou nodded in understanding, and sat down on the field beside him, staring at Maliks’ silhouette, the rest indistinguishable from the dark shadows that enveloped them, broken only by the light emitting from the large, open back doors. “I see...”

“... Who was Bakura with, back in England?” Malik asked the first question that popped into his head. Opposite him, the ghostly-looking Ryou, with light clothes and pale skin and pure white hair, stilled, and then Ryou rubbed at his eyes. “Ryou?”

“... Marik. His name was Marik.” Ryou kept his voice to a low murmur, his tone sounding glum.

“Bakura said he was murdered.” Malik muttered, fiddling with his hands. “Is that true?” Ryou nodded. “... How?”

“You’re so morbid.” Ryou sighed. “He was cornered by someone, with Bakura, actually. Marik was shot dead, and Bakura was injured... He’s getting better though.” That wasn’t completely a lie. Bakura was injured, just not in the sense that Ryou was implying.

“Holy shit...” Malik breathed. He was no longer concerned about keeping Ryou preoccupied – he was genuinely interested. “When did this happen?”

“Um...” Ryou bit his lip, staring into space, trying to think of a plausible date. “Eighteen months ago. It happened quite a while ago, but Bakura’s still in a lot of pain over it.” Ryou hand his hands clasped together loosely in his lap.

“Oh, hell.” Malik sighed, running a hand through his head. “I... I know it sounds weird, but... I kinda... No, it’s dumb.”

“Tell me, Malik.” Ryou tilted his head to one side, staring at Malik. “I won’t laugh or mock you, you know me.”

“Well... I don’t even know how to describe what I felt.” The blonde murmured. “It’s was like, I sorta sensed that something was wrong... If you understand me.”

“I don’t.” Ryou admitted. “But go on anyways.”

“Well...” Malik was blushing in the dark. “It’s like... The moment I saw him – like, really got to be in his presence, I just felt that something was... off. Like there was this underlying darkness there. And I know that sounds so stupid, coming from someone like me, who’s such a sceptic about everything, but I... Is this making any sense?”

“It is.” Ryou nodded, his hands clenched. Of course Malik could pick up on something. I didn’t realise he could be that open about it with himself though... He’s changing. A lot. Bakura, you’re having a bigger effect on him than I think you know... “I get what you mean, Malik.”

“Good.” Malik smiled weakly, and flopped down on the damp grass, looking up at the velvety night sky, a midnight blue dusted with thousands of diamonds. “Sure is a pretty night.” He remarked, his hands behind his head. “So what are you doing after the dance, anyway?”

“I don’t know.” Ryou shrugged. “Whatever Seto wants to do, I suppose. I just hope he won’t plan on-”

“He wont.” Malik reassured the boy, sitting up to look at him. “He’s not that stupid...” I think. The Egyptian looked at Ryou, who was now staring down at his shoes, silent and still. He wondered what was going through Ryou’s mind – it was painful even to think about.

I hope Seto’s not that stupid.

“There you are.”

The brunette blinked as Jounouchi took a seat next to him, and then looked back down at his lap with a scowl.

“What the hell do you want, Katsuya.” Seto demanded in a low growl, his arms crossed in his lap.

“I just wanted to talk to you, Seto.” Jou sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at the teenager he still loved. “Is that wrong?”

“I thought you made it clear about what you thought of me.” Seto muttered in a low voice, turning away. He knew that a front of apparent emotional hurt would have a profound affect on Jou. It did.

“Well, I’m sorry.” Jou kept his voice low, and eyes down. “But... I got sick of being put last, every damn time. It just seemed so unfair, Seto. I was trying so hard, and it was like you didn’t even care-”

“I did care.” Seto spat, then stood up, starting to walk away from the blonde. Jounouchi’s eyes widened, and he jumped down from the bleachers, following Seto as he pushed his way through the crowd.

“Hey, stop that!” Jounouchi protested, as Seto walked outside, through the front doors and into the parking lot, where he stood with his arms crossed, his brain ticking over. “Seto!”

“What?!” Seto spun around, growling. “What is it, Katsuya? Huh? What the hell are you gonna say?” Jou froze, his mouth slowly falling open.

“I... I was gonna say that I... I... Well I...” He tried to choke out, words failing him when he realised that he didn’t exactly know what he was going to say. Actually, he had no idea at all. “... Damnit.”

“That’s what I thought.” Seto muttered. “You’re always so quick to pick a fight with me and try to argue, but when it comes to actually talking, you don’t even know what to say-”

“That’s not true!” Jou retaliated, getting angry. “But it’s like I shouldn’t even bother! Not when you treat me the way you do!”

“What, huh? Treat you like what” Seto shouted back, a frown etched onto his face.

“Like I’m nothing!” Jounouchi’s heart was pounding. “You practically ignored me for so long! I tried to arrange to go out somewhere, only to have you stand me up or cancel. I gave you how many chances? And you just threw it back in my face! Then I break up with you because I can’t take it and two days later you’re all over Ryou! What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Nothing is wrong with me!” Seto’s hands curled into fists. This was getting too personal. But, as he rightly suspected, the fact he was with Ryou was clearly driving Jounouchi crazy. “And leave Ryou out of this!”

“Oh, bullshit.” Jounouchi snarled, less than a foot away from Seto. “I know you, Seto. You don’t even like Ryou, you’re just pretending to because you know how much it’ll piss me off. And guess what? It did! Are you happy now? Huh?”

“What the hell do you take me for?” Seto glared at the blonde. “Do you think I’m that shallow and cruel to just use Ryou to get back at you and make you jealous? Do you think that little of me?”

“... Yeah!” Jounouchi nodded. “Yeah, I do! Because I know you, Seto! I know you better than anyone else. It’s not below you, exploiting the feelings of someone just to win me back.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Seto rolled his eyes. “Everything is always about you, isn’t it, Katsuya? Did it pass your mind that I might actually like Ryou?”

“Cut the crap, we both know you don’t.” Jounouchi grabbed Seto’s arms. “Stop these games, Seto. Just cut it. All you’re going to do is hurt everyone. Do you know... Do you know how much it hurts, watching you with him?” As he spoke, Jounouchi was walking slowly, until Seto hit his own car door with a soft thump.

“You only have to say one thing.” Seto dipped his head, staring straight into Jounouchi’s eyes.

“... No.” His expression hardened, and he shook his head. “I’m not going to just accept you again, Seto. You think I’m going to fall into that trap? I love you but... I can’t... I just... can’t...” Jounouchi trailed off, his shoulders slumping hopelessly. The bridge of Seto’s nose wrinkled in a snarl, and he grabbed Jounouchi’s arms, and pushed him against the shiny, sleek sports car, fury evident in his eyes.

“Well then.” Jou’s eyes widened as Seto opened the car door, and pushed him inside. He gasped, and before he could recollect himself, Seto had shut the door, and was inside the two-seated interior with him, straddling his waist, hands on his shoulders, pinning him down. “I guess I’m just going to have to... persuade you then.”

“No!” Jounouchi struggled against Seto, panicking. Oh, how he hated it when the CEO’s cold, almost wild streak, shone in him. Sometimes, he became genuinely worried for his safety. This was one of those times. “Stop!” He cried out in a panic, as Seto’s bony hands grabbed at the collar of his shirt, and started yanking at his buttons.

“Oh, shut up.” Seto spat, as the last of the buttons came free. “You love this, Katsuya. I know you. And all of your weak spots.” Jounouchi froze, hands trembling as Seto ran his fingers down the blonde’s chest, never breaking his gaze with Jounouchi. “Don’t lie to me.”

“S-Seto...” Something in Jounouchi’s stomach was starting to tremble, to cave in. “Please...” Seto had tugged off his own shirt, which lay abandoned on the passenger seat floor. “Sto-” Jounouchi’s plea turned into a ragged cry as Seto licked a sensitive spot on his collarbone.

I’ve got you, Katsuya. Seto trailed his hands down the teenagers sides, resting stop the black dress trousers. This was too easy. You really are getting so predictable.

And with a gut-wrenching wave of guilt washing over him, every moral fibre in his body screaming at him to see reason and stop, Jounouchi collapsed, giving in to love and ‘persuasion’ and sexual tension, gripping Seto’s shoulders, and arching his neck to allow Seto better access.

And, sick as it made him feel later, at that moment Jounouch didn’t even feel sorry.

I think I MAY get killed for this...

R&R?