Warning-Warning. Don't let it fool you by the way, I'm not writing a lemon. Oh yeah, RainingHearts4Ever, I lied to you. The Deathshipping isn't minor any more. fff. Actually, I lied to you all. This chapter isn't short at all!

Marik sat up in bed, yawning and stretching. Sun was filtering through the blinds as he rubbed at his eyes. With a last yawn, he finally realized there was pressure somewhere that shouldn't be. Looking down, he saw a snoring Bakura, his fluffy white head rested on Marik's hips and his ghostly pale arms were wrapped around Marik's body.

"Bakura, what the hell?" Marik yelped, causing said albino to snort and blink blearily up at Marik. The blonde was glaring furiously down at his friend, who merely smirked, not moving his head one inch.

"Marik, I think you have morning wood," Bakura slurred, chuckling deeply as Marik's face flushed. The Egyptian quickly shoved Bakura off his lap, before glaring pointedly at him.

"That's none of your business. And why the hell're you in my bed anyways?" Marik demanded, glaring down at Bakura. "Your bedroom is on the other side of the fucking house!" Bakura tutted, but rose up onto his knees.

"Hey, you've been staying at my place rent free for five years," Bakura admonished, running a tongue over his lips. "I think I can come in your room anytime I want, if you'll excuse my pun." The albino cackled at Marik's glare, but his laughter was short lived as Marik lurched forward, shoving Bakura to the floor.

Bakura grabbed Marik's arms, though, and sent the boy tumbling down with him. Both let out sharp cries as Bakura smacked into the floor, and Marik slammed hard into Bakura. Groaning, Marik rose up on his elbows, and glared down at Bakura.

"Dammit, Bakura!" Marik growled, moving to stand up. Bakura's arms once again grabbed him, though, and pulled Marik back down. His lips latched onto Marik's, and the blonde quit fighting, and relaxed into the kiss. As soon as Bakura's hands snuck lower, though, and Marik immediately jerked away.

"Ishtar," Bakura groaned, sitting up as Marik stood and made his way towards the door. Marik paused, looked at Bakura over his shoulder, and disappeared down the hallway. Bakura sighed, and slowly stood up as well.

For five years, Marik had been living with Bakura and Ryou. The twins no longer lived with their father, but they still decided to stay together, and to keep Marik with them. Oh, the blonde had put forth a valiant effort, claiming that he didn't need to be taken care of, but Bakura didn't like the thought of his little Egyptian being off somewhere, all alone.

Now with that said, Bakura's intentions weren't completely pure either. Of course he wanted sex with Marik; who the hell wouldn't? Bakura really did care for him, though, even though the blonde was the biggest tease ever! He'd lure Bakura in, joking and playing and touching, promising things with his eyes. But, as soon as a move was made, the blonde reverted into his cool, calm self, and ignored any advances Bakura tried from that point on.

It was beginning to grate on Bakura's nerves, so he'd taken to sneaking into Marik's bed at night, just to tease the boy about it when he woke up. Not that it'd helped make any progress, of course.

Standing up, he sighed and made his way into the kitchen. Ryou and Marik were already there, eating pancakes that Ryou had cooked. Ryou was strangely quiet, and he kept shifting his attention back and forth from the table to the clock.

"What's bugging you?" Bakura snarled, flopping down at the table and glaring moodily at Marik, who easily avoided his gaze. Ryou let out a small, strangled noise, before shoveling some more pancakes in his mouth.

"W-Well you know how I've been. . . Ah.. . V-Visiting M-Melvin?" Ryou asked, fidgeting with the ends of his hair. Bakura sighed. Whenever Melvin was brought up, Ryou fell into a stuttering, miserable mess. Regardless of this, the whittete insisted upon visiting their locked up friend. Over the past five years, Melvin had been steadily climbing up towards a release from the home he was being kept at. All the doctors said he'd made amazing progress, but still, every time Ryou went to the hospital (he wouldn't go at the same time as Marik and Bakura) he'd end up coming home, a mess of tears. He'd collapse in his room, and wouldn't eat for the rest of the day. Marik said it was guilt. Bakura said it was stupidity.

"What about it?" Bakura finally asked, dragging his nails through the wood of the table. Marik shot him a reproving look, but he easily ignored it. Two could play at this game.

"W-Well. . . Didn't you know t-today is the d-day he gets out?" Ryou mumbled, yanking so hard at his hair that a few strands escaped and fluttered uselessly to the floor. Marik sighed at the sight his friend was in, whereas Bakura just frowned.

"He didn't tell us, no," Bakura replied.

"I was j-just wondering if m-maybe. . ." Ryou bit his lip and sucked on it lightly, his eyes shooting in nervous circles all around the room. "M-Maybe he c-could . . Stay here?" Marik dropped his fork and Bakura's hand tightened into a fist.

Bakura knew that, even after these past few years, that Marik wasn't fully over the death of his father. No matter how horrible the man had been, to see someone murdered like that was incredibly awful. The albino shot a concerned look at Marik, but the blonde seemed vacant of any life, so Bakura instead looked at Ryou.

"Ryou. . . I don't know, that doesn't seem like a grand idea," Bakura muttered. He didn't really want to make Marik feel on the spot, so he opted for the second reason having Melvin in the house would be a bad thing. "You practically piss yourself every time we mention him, and every time you visit him you come home in tears. What would it be like if he was here all the time?"

Ryou frowned. "I-I cry for a different reason, Bakura." The whittete stood and deposited his bowl in the sink. "And if you don't let him stay here, I'll just move somewhere with him, since he can't support himself. Plus, might I add, we let your boyfriend move in with us," Ryou spat, sounding strangely angry.

Marik's head snapped up, and he glared at Ryou. The whittete dismissed the look, however, and left the house.


Ryou made his way to the mental hospital, a happy smile ever-present on his soft face. Bakura didn't know Ryou as well as he thought he did. Ryou wasn't coming home crying because of fear. It was more-so because of guilt and heartbreak.

Yes, Ryou felt incredibly guilty. He didn't even visit Melvin for the first few months. After all, Melvin had reached for Ryou's attention in that moment of weakness, and had even refrained from hurting him! Yet Ryou had turned him away. . .

Then again licking someone's vomit wasn't an entirely nice way to ask for attention.

But all that had changed when, on separate visits from Marik and Bakura, Ryou had begun visiting Melvin. It had started off awkward and slightly scary, but after a few rough visits, Ryou was able to talk to Melvin. He remembered that particular visit . . . It'd been several months after Melvin had been seen as 'safe' and able to handle visitors, plus a few more months for Ryou to finally get over his fear. . .


Ryou sat in the room, waiting for Melvin to come in. It wasn't at all like what some people imagined mental hospitals as. It was actually a bright, cheery room with flowers in vases, and plenty of tables and chairs spread around, where other families and patients were chatting.

He could see doctors milling about, watching to make sure nothing was going wrong. Looking in his lap, Ryou fiddled with his fingers, nervous about seeing Melvin. Last time they'd sat in complete silence before Ryou finally succumbed to tears and had to be escorted from the room, fully aware of Melvin's eyes boring into his back. . .

Speaking of the devil, the blonde Egyptian was now lurching into the room, a doctor behind him, showing him to the right table. It was still unsettling how much he looked like Marik with his hair gel-less.

Melvin sat on the table opposite of Ryou, studying the whittete with narrowed eyes. Gulping slightly, Ryou lowered his gaze, staring down at his denim clad lap yet again. He couldn't do it, even though he wanted to. So badly he wanted to tell Melvin everything; how he felt, how sorry he was, and more importantly, he wanted to know how Melvin himself felt.

But he couldn't.

It was like a frog had lodged itself in his throat and was slowly laying its gelatinous eggs in it, slowly clogging his air passageway up more and more, and eventually reaching the brink to where his mouth couldn't open for fear of spilling them everywhere.

"Dammit, Ryou, look at me!" Melvin demanded. A few doctors looked over in alarm, but none of them made a move yet. Melvin just clenched his hands atop the table and glared meaningfully at Ryou.

The whittete slowly lifted his head, staring into those lavender eyes that were ablaze. He gulped, scared that tadpoles were going to hatch in his stomach acid. Shuddering at the thought, he began to breath heavily through his nose.

"Why're you so scared of me?" Melvin growled, his voice hitching a little as he glared across towards Ryou. Ryou let a strangled noise come from his throat, and he wanted desperately to tell Melvin that it wasn't that! Ryou wasn't scared, he wasn't!

But yet again. . . He just couldn't.

"Don't visit me again," Melvin growled, rising fully from his chair and turning to the doctor. Ryou finally let out a cry, and jumped up from the table, placing a tentative hand on Melvin's arm. He didn't care that all the doctors were watching with suspicious eyes, or that Melvin was snarling at him.

All that mattered was that Ryou was going to speak.

"I'm not scared," Ryou muttered, his voice cracking as he choked out the words. Melvin froze, and stared down at Ryou, no emotion yet showing on his face. "I'm not scared, I'm guilty." Funny, Ryou didn't remember himself having such a husky voice. Incredible how emotion can make you sound manly. Maybe one day he'd tell Melvin that, and Melvin would laugh and call Ryou a girl, then they could forget this whole thing.

But things didn't happen like that, and Ryou knew it.

"Guilty?" Melvin questioned, raw curiosity in his voice, all malice receding as he stared down at the whittete.

"Yes," Ryou replied, his voice going from husky to high-pitched and desperate. Well, fuck a duck. There went that joke. "I'm guilty because. . . Because I was your friend, possibly more, and you . . .I . . ." Ryou broke into tears again, and his hand fell from Melvin's arm to press against his eyes as salty tears splashed down in his face.

Back when they had been a-okay, Melvin would've wrapped his arms around Ryou and teased him, laughing and saying it was all right. But they weren't back then, and Ryou could tell Melvin was awkward around him now, and certainly hesitant to touch him.

"I'm so sorry," Ryou croaked, sinking to his knees. "I won't visit you a-again i-if you d-don't wa-want. . . . Oh Gods I'm sorry." Ryou wasn't even sure if Melvin could understand his moaning, breaking words as he shouted into his palms, crying all the while.

A doctor came over and helped Ryou to his feet, before walking the crying whittete to the door. Ryou was ready to go. He didn't want to stay where he was unwanted, unloved, and quite possibly hated. Ryou had said his feelings now, and he hoped that he could overcome this now.

Something stopped him though.

"Creampuff!" A voice yelled, and it was the nickname that made him freeze. Oh Gods how it made his knees weak. He hadn't heard that nickname in so long, and it made him turn around immediatly, peering through red, puffy eyes to see Melvin standing there, a doctor near him, ready to lead him back to his room.

"Come see me again."


And Ryou had. He'd been visiting Melvin for the past five years, always eager to see the psychotic blonde. He still felt incredibly guilty, and he still wished that all of it could be erased, but that was never going to happen. Ryou only cried to vent his feelings, but Bakura was over-protective, as always.

But that was fine, Ryou supposed. It didn't matter, because Melvin would be coming home today, and all would go well . . . So Ryou hoped anyways. He really hoped Bakura took his threat of moving out seriously, because Ryou had meant it.

After all, over the past five years, after their first, fumbling start, Ryou and Melvin had slowly grown closer and closer, and Ryou was ready to be in a real relationship with the blonde. He knew Melvin wanted it too. The Ishtar was certainly more open about his feelings then Ryou, and had told the shy little whittete more then once what he wanted to do with Ryou once he was 'out of the loony bin', so he phrased it.

And Ryou was quite pleased that the vast majority of it had nothing to do with sex.

Yes, nothing could ruin today.


Bakura glared at the back of Marik's head. Said blonde was sitting on the couch, watching the TV with glazed over eyes. It turns out that Marik, even after five years, was still amazed by television. He'd seen it before, yes, but for some reason having it all the time, plus On Demand, was almost to much in his eyes.

"Marik," Bakura snapped. He and the blonde needed to talk. Marik let out a non-comttal response, but his gaze didn't leave the flashing screen. Bakura let out an irritated snort and stepped forward, snatching up the remote and flicking the TV off. Marik let out an annoyed noise, and turned to glare at Bakura.

"What do you want?" Marik growled, crossing his arms and sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the couch. Bakura breathed heavily out of his nose, reigning in his temper. Slowly, he clomped his way around the couch, and sat one cushion over from Marik.

"We need to talk," Bakura said simply, and he could see Marik's eyes widen.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Marik yelped, crossing his arms in front of him like a big X. "This sounds bad . . What did I do?"

"If you'd let me talk I'd tell you!" Bakura snarled, eyes narrowing as he glared at the boy across from him. Marik looked like he was going to argue, but he closed his mouth and offered no further arguements. Thanking the Gods silently, Bakura figured he should start talking.

"Well, Marik," Bakura said in what he hoped was a slightly tempered voice. If he was snapping at Marik the whole time, this wouldn't really work. "I want to know what we are."

"Excuse me?" Marik asked, tilting his head to the side. Cursing the boy for his cuteness, Bakura sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Cute, but stupid. Lifting his gaze once more, he looked at Marik.

"For a while there, it seemed like you and I had something going. Especially on that camping trip-"

"Bakura, we were sixteen!" Marik argued, hands forming into fists in his lap. That camping trip brought up bad feelings. His albino friend seemed to sense this, and he let out a breathy sigh.

"All right, all right, bad example. But there have been times since then. Honestly, Marik, you can't lead someone on for five years and not expect them to question you." Blue clad shoulders shrugged, and Marik switched into defensive.

"I haven't been leading you on!" Marik muttered, tugging at his hair. Bakura jumped to his feet, all thoughts of remaining calm flying out the window as his rage bubbled to the surface like white hot lava beneath ice.

"We fucking kiss!" Bakura snarled, leaning forward and placing his hands on Marik's legs, thrusting his face into the tanned boy's. The latter face quickly drew away from his own, however, but Bakura didn't lean forward anymore. "We hug! We live together! And don't you remember what happened that one night at the bar?"

Marik's lips trembled slightly as he stared up at Bakura. "Y-You knocked that guy out because he was flirting with me and got in a fight with his friends. . . Then you got us kicked out, and you made Ryou get hit with a chair. Poor Ryou. . ."

Bakura's hand lashed out and grabbed Marik's tongue, causing the boy to yelp and shudder beneath him. "I don't want to hear Ryou's name in your mouth right now," Bakura ground out, glaring angrily into his companion's face.

Marik nodded, and Bakura released him. "So Marik," the albino continued, "what exactly are we? If this," he motioned at the two of them, "isn't going anywhere, I don't want to stay. I can move on and find someone else, you know."

It was a lie. Well, Bakura's heart thought it was a lie. Logically, it was completely true. He could move on and forget about Marik, and somebody else could take over his tragic, ruined self. It'd make life a hell of a lot easier for Bakura.

Marik's brow was furrowed as he was deep in thought. Once upon a time he'd thought of Bakura as a boyfriend, but then he'd come home and all that blood. . . He'd thanked Bakura and meant it, but after that, Mr. Touzouku was always around and they'd receded to more brotherly love. Sure, they kissed, but Marik wasn't really sure that meant anything. His father had kissed him somtimes after all . . .

That brought a wave of sickness through Marik's body that five years couldn't erase. Hell, fifty years couldn't get rid of that disgusting feeling that coursed around his body everytime those thoughts plagued his mind. They were like filthy rats spread around in the gutters of his brain, constantly passing on the disease to newer occupants until finally it surfaced completely and took over.

Sure, the disease would be put at bay for a while, but then that one rat would fall sick yet again, and then the process would be repeated. Marik only wished he could create a vaccine for his brain, cleansing himself of those unholy thoughts once and for all.

But that didn't matter right now. Bakura was staring down at him, wanting an answer.

"Bakura I. . ." Marik gulped. He could say it, couldn't he? It was true, after all. . . "Bakura I think I . . . Love. . . You." Marik spat the final two words, not believeing that he'd managed to push the words out with his awkward clumsy lips and-

Bakura was kissing him. Marik gasped in surprise, and Bakura's tongue was in his mouth, mapping it out and tracing every ridge and bump that ever existed. Marik moaned slightly, and followed suit.

Bakura was pressing up against him, pushing Marik down on the couch. Marik didn't like that; didn't like being on the bottom. It brought up bad memories that he didn't want to deal with in this moment of passion. He nudged Bakura, and pushed the albino upwards. Bakura stared down at him, panting and disheveled.

"What. . . ?" Bakura rasped, pushing upwards to seperate his and Marik's bodies.

"You get on the bottom," Marik commanded, his voice husky as well. Bakura shivered with delight at the words, and quickly complied. Pressing his back against the soft cushions of the couch, he grinned as he felt Marik straddle his hips.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Bakura asked, betraying his concern by bucking his hips. Marik moaned, and rocked back before making his reply.

"Yes. . . Bakura, I guess I should apologize for being a tease but . . ." Marik hissed as their clothed erections rubbed more frantically at each other, "don't they say waiting makes it all the better?"

"Not really waiting," Bakura mumbled in response, slowly loosing his ability at coherent speach, "if I jack off to a naked picture of you each night." Marik ground to a halt, and he froze, staring down at Bakura.

"Please tell me you're joking," Marik huffed. "That was an incredible mood killer."

"Really, I think I'd be flattered," Bakura smirked. "And . . . If I say it was a joke will you proceed with what we were doing?" The albino's cheeks were slowly loosing their color as the still moment went on, though his erection wouldn't die down.

"Fine," Marik sighed, leaning down and kissing Bakura. "But I guess I'll have to keep that mouth of yours to busy for speech if this is going to work." Marik laughed softly as he began moving his hips again.

Bakura allowed Marik to kiss him as his hands wound lower, slowly unbuckling Marik's pants, pulling them down slowly. The blonde got annoyed, however, and just pulled off his pants and boxers. Amazing, Bakura thought, how he went from being shy to ripping his pants off.

Speaking of pants, there went Bakura's. The albino stopped to look at Marik's body, grinning at the sight. He'd seen it naked that night long ago, and when he'd jerked off in Marik's body, but this was certainly different. The muscular blonde climbed back on top of Bakura, and engaged him in another kiss, their cocks rubbing fully against each other now.

Bakura became aware that Marik was making mewling noises now, his face scrunched up from the please. The albino knew, however, that he should probably stop Marik now before the boy came all over the couch.

Reaching under the couch, Bakura pulled out a bottle of lube. Marik stared at it, before looking suspiciously at Bakura

"You. . . you planned this!" Marik demanded, glaring at Bakura.

"Actually, no. I've told you one of my secrets, so I think you can figure the rest out," Bakura smirked. "That picture of you is incredibly sexy, and well sometimes one thing isn't good enough. I just hide it here since Ryou likes to check my room for things, but nobody has ever looked under the couch, and inside that little board part of it."(1)

Marik's jaw dropped a little as he stared at Bakura.

"Hint of advice; never look there." Bakura laughed, at Marik's flush. The blonde trembled for a minute as his eyes narrowed at Bakura.

"You pervert!" Marik growled, moment ruined yet again. Bakura didn't mind, though. It was more natural if they fought, wasn't it? Instead, he just laughed again, further infuriating the blonde straddling him.

"Only for you," Bakura crooned in a mocking voice.

"Ahem," a small voice said. Marik froze and looked forward, as Bakura arched his back to look, upside down, to see his brother standing there, completely red in the face with a smirking Melvin behind him, holding Ryou's shoulders.

"Well, it's great to be home!"


(1)- There is a base one the bottom of a couch that you can hide things in. I didn't know this until my hamster escaped one day and somehow climbed up there.

Hell yes I'm ending it there.(They let Melvin stay) I might as well have written a lemon, but uh. . . No. I don't. . . And I know I said I'd upload this tomorrow, bu~t cable went out and I was bored as fuck. Woot!

Okay, and requests are now open! Before (if) I get any, I'm going to post some rules on my profile, so read those rules before you send me a request. If you breach those rules I'm just going to ignore you.

Sorry for the sucky ending, though, really. . . I just didn't wanna drag that out, and it seemed okay to end it there, because now everybody gets (an implied) happy ending.

Um, so thanks to all you amazing reviewers. I'm not doing the long list, but I am going to mention some regulars who review for almost every chapter (if I don't mention you, sorry, I may just not have realized. . .)

LadySunami, Elle-L, CandyAssGoth, Amanique4, RiverTear980, immaperson, Mio-chan's Return, RandomInspired, Dutch Mew Anzu, and iPanda16. Thank-you all reviewers for your amazing reviews, even if you weren't a regular, every review is appreciated, and I hope you all enjoyed this final chapter of Inside of You

One last thing, Kuracakes did this awesome fanart for this story so~:

http:/ kuracakes. tumblr. com/ post/ 6955392882/ so-i-read-another-fanfiction-and-decided-to-draw

Just take out the spaces!