The Bright Young Things

Hey, Hikari M here. I'm posting this because - hold on, why do I have to explain myself? I'm posting this because I can, how's that?

Disclaimer: Why even go there? Has anyone ever seen someone write, "Yes. I invented these characters. You're reading my story with my characters, so give me money!" ? Oh, and I didn't know what the hell to call this thing, so I just picked the song I was listening to. Manson, for anyone who's interested in any way.

Warnings: This one ain't for kiddies. Most prominently there's yaoi and swearing, but add a bit of almost everything else for which there could be a warning, and chances are you'll find it somewhere in this fic.

The site also likes to screw around with my punctuation. Any typos are its fault, I guarantee you. Well, I think that's about it. You've come this far, read on!

When someone woke Bakura, they were usually either very brave or very stupid. But when someone woke Bakura at three in the morning, it was a sign that they had abandoned any hope of living to see the sun rise.

And yet some stupid bastard had taken the risk to ring him. Swearing, he felt around blindly for a minute before finally grabbing hold of the phone that was on the floor by his bed.

"Mm," he mumbled, to show he was (however vaguely) listening.

"Bakura? It's Malik."

Bakura groaned. "Who? Fuck, it's too late…or too early…or something. What is it?"

"I need you to do me a favour."

Malik sounded apprehensive, but not frightened, which perhaps he should have been. Bakura was the last person he should have called for a favour. He could practically feel Bakura's growing irritation emanating from the phone.

"What kind of favour?" Bakura asked dangerously.

Hesitantly, Malik answered, "You'll have to get up."

Bakura groaned.

Malik continued. "Then you'll have to get dressed."

Bakura groaned again.

"Then you'll have to come down to the police station," Malik finished.

"What?" Bakura yelled. He heard Ryou moving around in the next room and guessed he must have woken him, but he couldn't have cared less. "Why the fuck should I do that, Ishtar?"

"Because I need you to get me out of here," Malik confessed.

Bakura didn't bother getting up. The odds for him bothering to help Malik were very low. "What did you do?"

"We can talk about that after you get me out!" Malik snapped. "Are you coming or not?"

There was a knock at Bakura's door, and without waiting for a response, Ryou walked in. He flicked the light switch, and Bakura had to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness. Ryou, who looked dead on his feet, mouthed, "What's going on?"

Bakura ignored him. "Why don't you get that good-for-nothing yami of yours to do it?" he asked Malik.

The pause before Malik next spoke was immeasurably long, and Bakura became suspicious as to what he was avoiding saying.

"What?" Bakura growled.

"Ah…you see," Malik said, sounding uncomfortable, "Marik's here too."

Bakura suddenly narrowed his eyes, and as the only other person present, it was Ryou at whom the glare was aimed. Ryou looked confusedly back, leaning against the door and seemingly ready to fall asleep at any second.

"So what you're telling me," Bakura said slowly, "is that you and your yami have landed yourselves in jail at three in the morning, and expect me to bail you out?"

"Please, Bakura, if you do this I'll owe you big time," Malik begged. "And Marik will too."

"I don't want to do any favours for that bastard," Bakura snapped.

"Please. We'll do whatever you want afterwards," Malik needled.

"Anything?" Bakura raised an eyebrow.

"Well – almost anything."

Bakura considered this. "Mm…no." And he hung up the phone.

He was just in time to see Ryou slide down to the floor, having fallen asleep where he stood. Rolling his eyes, Bakura thought, 'Like hell I'm getting up now. Let him sleep on the floor then.'

He had just rolled over, about to go back to sleep himself, when he came up with a better idea. He picked up the phone again and threw it so that it landed inches from Ryou's face with a loud bang! Ryou instantly woke up, flinching from the noise and looking at Bakura, alarmed.

"Get your own floor space," Bakura growled, then rolled over once again.

Malik hung up the phone tentatively. "He's not going to do it."

"I could have told you that," Marik snorted. "What a waste of a phone call."

An officer watched them from the doorway of the little room. At first he had thought these two new criminals were just a couple of young drunks who had gotten more than they bargained for, but when he hauled them up to the station he found that they were none other than the notorious Ishtars. Both Marik and Malik had a handful of crimes under their belt, although considering that for a while there was no record of Marik even existing for a number of years, some of his crimes were pinned on Malik. This time they had been caught for trying to walk out of a liquor store with a six-pack in each hand without paying. Their offences were seldom serious, but they were making quite a name for themselves among the local police.

"So what do we do now?" Malik sighed. "Just live it out?"

Marik eyed the policeman at the door. "Oi, Pig," he called out to him. "How long are we looking at staying here?"

The officer glared at Marik. "Few days, minimum."

Shrugging, Marik turned to Malik. "Three days. Not that bad."

"That's the minimum," Malik corrected him. "It's more likely we'll be here for a week or so. And that's a week I can't afford."

"Why the hell not? It's not as if you've got a job." Marik rolled his eyes.

Malik looked at Marik sourly. "I still don't want to be in jail."

"Should've called someone better than Bakura then," Marik said with a sudden scowl.

"He was the only one I could think of that wouldn't leave us here because 'it would serve us right'," Malik groaned, brushing his fingers through his hair absentmindedly. "And I'll bet he would have come down here too if you hadn't been here."

"Oh right, take his side, Hikari." Marik emphasised the last word as if to remind Malik whose hikari he was.

"I'm not taking anyone's side. How can I when you won't even tell me what you're fighting about in he first place?" Malik snapped.

"Nothing that concerns you," Marik growled. He turned to the officer again. "Are we done here or what?"

The officer looked at him suspiciously. It wasn't every day that prisoners requested to be taken to their cells, especially not the Ishtars. However, he couldn't exactly refuse.

The only halfway decent thing about being in the jail was that Marik and Malik were in the same cell. True, it didn't give them as much freedom as they would have liked, but it gave them both the opportunity to blame each other even more. Every possible reason for blame came into it – from whose idea to get beer it was to whose idea it was to relinquish the Millennium Rod.

"Your fault for not checking to see if there was an alarm at the store," Malik said.

To which Marik retorted, "Your fault for assuming I'd be the one to check that."

"Your fault for wanting to steal in the first place."

"Your fault for having no money."

"Your fault for being so damn obsessed with beer."

"Your fault for driving me so nuts that I need the beer to survive."

"Your fault for living with me."

"Your fault for bringing me into existence."

The next morning – or later in the morning, really – Bakura went into the kitchen, pissed off that his sleep had been interrupted earlier, to find Ryou already sitting at the table.

"Morning, Bakura," Ryou said brightly, when his yami joined him. Seeing Bakura wasn't going to reply, he asked, "Who was it who called in the middle of the night?"

For a moment, Bakura didn't say anything. Then he growled, "Ishtar."

"Marik rang you?" Ryou exclaimed. "You haven't talked in ages! Did he call to apologise or – "

"Not that one, idiot," Bakura snapped. "Malik. They got themselves arrested." Why he was bothering to tell Ryou anything anyway?

Ryou's eyes widened. "What did they do?"

"Fucked if I know."

"It'd be nice if you went down to pick them up," Ryou said, sounding for a second as though he thought Bakura would listen.

Bakura, of course, snorted. "I'd rather screw a broken bottle," he said disdainfully. "It'll take a fucking miracle to get me to help Marik," he added darkly.

It seemed as though the conversation was over, until Ryou couldn't help but open his mouth again. "Can't you tell me what it is you're fighting ab- "


"Not even just a – "

"No." Bakura's voice made it clear that he wasn't changing his mind on that topic. What he and Marik were fighting about was between them and them alone.

Ryou sighed. "Fine."

He got up and left the room. All Bakura did was scowl and mutter under his breath, "Baby." However, when Ryou returned he was holding his car keys.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bakura demanded.

"To the station," Ryou said quietly. "Seeing if I can help Malik and Marik out."

"What?" Bakura rose abruptly to his feet. "You're not getting them out."

Ryou looked at Bakura incredulously. "You're going to stop me?"

Bakura considered. "Yes, I am."

Ryou's lips tightened, a hard expression on his face. "Well it's not your decision, it's mine. Malik's my friend and I'm not leaving him to rot in a jail cell just because you and Marik want to tear each other apart."

He turned to leave, but gasped as Bakura grabbed him by the collar with a menacing scowl.

"I said you're not going."

"Bakura, what the hell!" Ryou tried to pull away, but Bakura's grip was too strong. "What do you care – let go of me!"

"You're not going," Bakura repeated dangerously.

Ryou took a sharp breath, struggling against Bakura's grip and failing. "O – okay, fine! I won't – just let go!"

Bakura loosened his hold. Ryou massaged his throat, looking both indignant and relieved.

"You're insane, Bakura!" he cried weakly. "Whatever you're mad at Marik for can't be that bad."

Bakura just turned away and grunted in reply. He still wasn't going to tell Ryou what their fight was about.

Ryou wouldn't let the subject drop that easily though. "Marik isn't even that bad. Every time I see him he's nice to me, and considering how mad he used to be, that's saying something."

Bakura stopped in his tracks and faced Ryou again. "Nice?" he said, before shaking his head decisively. "Marik's not nice. He will never be nice."

"Well, he's nice to me," Ryou grumbled.

"Then he's got some hidden agenda." Bakura narrowed his eyes as he said it.

"Bakura," Ryou said exasperatedly. "You're being paranoid."

"What's he done that's nice to you?" Bakura demanded.

Ryou let out a frustrated groan. "I don't know, Bakura!" he exclaimed. "Friendly stuff! Said hello, asked how I was, said we should catch up some time, that sort of thing."

It sounded innocent enough. But still –

"Any physical contact?" Bakura asked.

"Bakura!" Ryou's entire face flushed. "This is ridiculous!"

"What did he do?" Bakura snarled.

"Nothing, you bloody psycho!" Ryou yelled, finally snapping. He didn't need Bakura's interrogation. "He's put his arm around me, he's hugged me, all right? Jesus, you make it sound like he molested me!"

Bakura took a deep breath before saying, "Give me your keys."

"What? Why?"

Without answering or waiting for another word, Bakura forcibly snatched the keys from Ryou's hand before charging out the door. Ryou protested, but he couldn't take on Bakura, and he was left alone and wondering what the hell his yami was up to.

Meanwhile, Bakura growled to himself, "Going to tear Marik a new anal hole."

It wasn't long before Marik and Malik became bored insulting each other. There were only so many times one could call someone an asshole or a bastard or an alcoholic fuckface without it getting old. Now they had resorted to deep and meaningful discussions – or as deep and meaningful discussions as two Ishtars could have.

"Yeah, if I died, I'd want it to be alcohol-related," Marik said, nodding. "Then on my epitaph I'd get, 'Died doing what he loved'."

"Idiot. Dying of alcohol poisoning would suck," Malik scorned. "I want to die during sex. My epitaph: 'Died the way he lived'."

"Dying during sex, hmm? What's the matter, someone too rough for you?" grinned Marik.

Malik rolled his eyes. "Only if I was screwing Satan."

A guard approached their cell, glaring at them (as all those who had come to know them did). "You two have a visitor. Bakura, I think he said his name was."

Marik's face darkened. "Speaking of Satan, here's your chance."

Marik and Malik got up and moved to leave the cell, but the guard blocked their way. "One at a time," he snapped.

So Marik went first, following the guard to the tiny visitors' room. It wasn't one of those fancy ones with desks, glass separating walls and telephones on each side; all it had was a desk and two more policemen standing guard. Bakura looked none too pleased when Marik walked into the room.

"Funny, I came here asking for an Ishtar, not a piece of shit," he glowered.

"Funny, I was told there was a visitor here, not a horse fucker," Marik replied coldly.

Bakura smirked. "Don't knock it till you've tried it." One of the policemen made a choking noise, but Bakura ignored him. "I'm here to tell you to keep your fucking hands off my hikari."

Marik suddenly smirked. "Jealous?"

"Hardly," Bakura scoffed. "You know as well as I do that I don't give a shit about him. But it's a fucking stupid way to get back at me."

"I thought it was quite fitting," Marik said.

"You go near him again and you won't be in prison, you'll be in the morgue."

Marik narrowed his eyes. "I think I have more of a right to be pissed off than you. You brought this on yourself."

"He's my hikari," Bakura snapped. "He's fucking off limits."

Marik leaned forward, right up close to Bakura so that their faces were inches apart. "I should say the same about Malik," he hissed.

Bakura didn't have any reaction. He just stared right back as Marik tried to glare him down. Finally Marik backed away again, looking as though Bakura was the scum of the earth.

"Did you forget that's what this is about already? You're threatening me not to touch your hikari when you're doing the same fucking thing to mine," he accused.

"That's different." Bakura folded his arms. "You don't give a shit about Ryou any more than I do."

"Like you care about Malik!" Marik spat. "You wouldn't even fucking spring him out of jail! I'm going to make you pay for taking what's mine and using it, bastard."

Bakura pretended to think. "You know, you're right. I don't care about Malik." He stood up and started towards the door. "In which case, what am I doing here? Because I sure wasn't planning on saving your ass."

"No, it's Malik's ass you wanted to save," Marik called bitterly. "Or anyone else's you think you can fuck and get away with it."

By the way, I had no idea what genre to call this. But plenty of the later stuff is humour, so that was in. Plus there's sex. I figured sex equals romance.

One question: Does a writer writing, "Please review" at the end of a chapter really make you want to review more?