By the end of this, Seto Kaiba fan girls and Duke Devlin fan girls are going to hate me. But don't take it the wrong way- they are two of my favourite Yu-Gi-Oh guys, but everyone needs some fun poked at them now and again.
Besides, it's just the way the story is. It's almost written itself, which is a strange feeling.
I think my subconscious had a lot to do with this story.
So, it should be obvious that this is a completely stupid piece of writing.
WARNING: OOC. Severely.
Psychoshipping and Angstshipping
Oh, and in this the yamis are Bakura and Marik, and the hikaris are Ryou and Malik.
Domino was a far cry from Egypt, and Malik knew it. He groaned as he opened his eyes and heard the steady, persistent beat of the rain on his bedroom window. He shivered, and snuggled down under the duvet.
In the room across the hall, Bakura felt similar feelings when he woke up to hear the rain. As far as he was concerned, rain could go to the shadow realm, along with alarm clocks. Unfortunately for Bakura, he hadn't quite worked out how to send rain to the shadow realm, which was probably just as well for the rest of the world.
Bakura sat up in bed and stretched, but not for long, because he was almost immediately shivering. He dived back under the covers, finding warmth from the body next to him, who been woken up by Bakura as he stretched.
Marik wrapped an arm loosely around Bakura, and the two went slowly back to sleep, the cold banished by their body heat.
It was Ryou who got up first, as usual. He was the only one not really affected by the cold, and he always got up first to go downstairs in whatever he wore to sleep in to switch the heating on so the house was warm when the others were ready to rise up from sleep.
He was a considerate boy like that.
When questioned as to why he didn't feel the cold, he simply smiled and reminded them that he was British, therefore used to bad weather, since it was the main type of weather around in the country.
As the house slowly warmed up, Ryou padded back upstairs to get dressed. The others had often been perplexed by Ryou's sleeping garments. He'd wear anything from oversized shirts to cotton tracksuit bottoms, which wasn't that unusual, but where he'd got any of them was a mystery. None of them had ever seen him buy any, yet more and more appeared in his draw. The shirts were so big they trailed around his knees, and a personal favourite of Malik's was the bright green occupational therapy one that read 'a human being is a human doing'.
But back to Ryou.
Now he had changed, he went to cook breakfast.
Now, please don't be under the impression that the others used Ryou as some form of slave labour- yeah, he cooked and turned the heating on and did most of the cleaning, but it was voluntary, for the sake of the house's survival and his own sanity.
Have you ever seen Bakura try to clean? Things end up on fire. Have you ever seen Marik cook? Walls get covered in things of such a strange consistency that Ryou really didn't want to know what it was (although, according to Marik, he had been making omelette). And don't get me started on Malik. Sure he could dismantle a motorbike engine, but try asking him to turn on the boiler? Things explode.
As he ambled past Malik's door, the blonde opened it, still in the grey cotton tracksuit pants he wore to sleep in, his hair stuck up at all angles and his eyes still puffy from sleep.
He looked completely adorable.
Not that you'd tell him that.
Not many people would dare. Trying to take over the world gives you a reputation like that.
He grinned sleepily at Ryou, but the pair waited till they got downstairs before talking. Bakura was a light sleeper, and when awoken by noise he was never in a good mood.
The chatted softly in the kitchen whilst Ryou started cooking. Soon, woken by the smells coming from the kitchen, Marik and Bakura shuffled down, both of them wearing the trousers they wear in the day (Marik and Bakura didn't bother wearing clothes to bed- what was the point, they reasoned, when they were just going to get taken off anyway?).
As breakfast was made, a temporary feeling of serenity fell across the group. Bakura had his elbows on the table and was resting his head on his hands, a sleepy look gracing his face as he daydreamed. Marik was still partially asleep, leaning back on his chair with his eyes half closed, and Malik had his hands on the back of his head absentmindedly, watching Ryou, who was moving around the small kitchen with ease, singing under his breath.
we took a holiday
Took some time to celebrate
Just one day out of life
It would be, it would be so nice"
Ryou sung under his breath, the voice breathy and often lapsing into humming. It was a relaxing voice, not that the group needed to relax any more than they already were.
The spell of quiet was broken when the food was served.
Bakura tore into his food, using his hands, food flying across the table. Ryou sighed, sipping his tea. He'd never succeeded in teaching Bakura table manners. Malik ate slowly and neatly, but without the grace that Ryou did. The grace came from proper British table manners. Marik knawed at his food like a caged animal, spearing it violently as if it was going to escape.
Just another morning in the Bakura-Ishtar household.