My first ever attempt at Yu-gi-oh and its fandom. This is some absurd short mixture of OOC fluff, humor, and a little Bakura perspective. Starts being serious and goes straight to crazy fluffy-- right back to some significance of a faint sane…ish plotline…beats me. Dedicated to the birthday girl, my darling Anime-Pusher Kelly aka Marie de Romanus……because I know how much she loves her Bakura. Feedback is always encouraged, appreciated, and thanked with plates of cyber chocolate-chip cookies.

Disclaimer: Yu-gi-oh? Mine? Pssh. The day Yugi grows 6'1.

He hated his little twin.

Oh…how he did.

He hated how identical they were in appearance, but at the same time so different from each other. While the Thief King harbored formidable unfriendly confidence in the way he held his tall form, having it gleam through dark umber eyes that had seen too much; the other radiated what he believed to be cowardice and feebleminded naivety. His brown eyes, in contrast, brilliant in color and warm. He hated how the weakness from those eyes seemed to touch the hearts of those who peered into them.

He despised sharing feelings with the child- guilt when he stole- horror when he killed-- uncertainty when he seemed to do something right.

He loathed the crystal tears that bejeweled Ryou's smooth cheeks when Bakura struck him, whether the motion was physical or mental, the actual pain that followed after struck him back clear as day. He loathed that the eyes that held them could see right through him.

And he especially hated, hated Ryou's smiling face pressed into the crook of his neck--a bittersweet feeling; the vibrations of his giggles coming from his hikari's soft gorgeous lips--and how Bakura couldn't seem to gain control of his body at that very moment.

The gods were punishing him, in the worst possible way.

This boy was a disease.

Ryou's laughter rang out, bell-like and enchanting, the source of his amusement quiet but not dead to the sound. Trying to selfishly absorb the pleasantly heavy feel of the smaller nestled against his chest, the white-haired man planted both hands atop Ryou's back, pulling him closer from their position spilled out on the love couch in Ryou's empty home. He growled slightly through gritted teeth when he felt the boy shift around, almost completely leaving his prison than once again relaxed when he snuggled back into the other's strong arms.

Bright entertained orbs peeked up.

"I sometimes worry about your possessiveness."

In response to his smartass comment and widening the impish spark in lighter brown, the taller beneath him arched up his torso roughly into the boy's groin, grinning in silent madness. A faint sting of rose touched his hikari's features but Ryou merely frowned down upon him, "Bakura!"

He did not trust that grin.

"I keep what I steal," the former stated cryptically, trailing a hand from Ryou's waist to pinch his bottom with his very long fingers. The smaller jumped slightly, creating more southward friction between them, and thus more red to spot once angel white skin, and he retaliated by sucking in a breath and rudely blowing the air straight into his face. He knew his yami absolutely hated when people did that.

Darker brown blinked stunned for two or three seconds before he asked, dangerously calm, "You want to test me little one?"

Ryou taunted the devil himself by sticking out his tongue, unashamed of his previous and current gesture.

"Better put that back in your mouth and save its use before I rip it out."

The boy mustered up the courage to smirk, no, not 'smile', flat-out leer in a manner he thought was defiant before sticking out his tongue again, "Even you, great thief, can't make me." When Bakura actually managed to gawk somewhat, he giggled again, blushing harder, experiencing the rush that came with the pride of accomplishing something, and kissed the parted full lips within his reach, cooing, "Love you yami-mine."

It appeared that this was the result of Bakura's deep-seated influence over the Britain native.

'...Pharaoh no baka was actually right about something...?'

He could just imagine said spiky-haired baka doing a victory dance in the very near future if he ever got wind that he had one up on him.

The hell he'd allow it!

Snarling, the spirit of the Millennium Ring used his advantage of strength to send his hikari painfully tumbling onto the carpet floor, landing pelvis straining roughly against stomach. Ryou's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates within a matter of moments.

Guess he lost the privilege of being on top.


Arrrgh, that chaste undertone...that frightened tremble in his breath. As if he thought he would beat him senseless without warning...perhaps he should...just to teach the little brat a lesson---

With a noncommittal shake of his head, Bakura rose to his feet, turning away to leave his double staring after him bemused.

"Where are you going?"

A dark whisper came from the stilling figure; head bowed forward, hands flat to the front door.

"Do you want me to hurt you Ryou?"

At first, undecided silence followed. Shortly after, small hands locked around the man's body as the boy slipped himself between the entrance and the body, pressing with all his might to his dark.

"You couldn't hurt me anymore then you already have."

Unfamiliar with the sensation of being relieved to see Ryou smiling so sincerely, the spirit returned the embrace around his host's hunched shoulders to muse over the confession.

Perhaps. . .

Perhaps he wasn't the only one feeling. . . .infected.