Thiefshipping Oneshots

The Motorbike

Bleh, I should update this more. But I've been writing mostly Deathshipping right now, so a lot of my Thiefshipping stuff is on hold. I need to manage stuff better. . .
~Seqyn

Marik touched the handlebars reverently, amethyst eyes taking in its full glory, all at once. He looked up at Bakura, mouth slightly agape. Bakura shoved his hands in his pockets, face flushed, mostly from the cold.

"Well?" he said, impatiently stamping his feet. "Is it fine? Hurry up and decide if you like it or not, so we can go inside."

"It's the one." Marik shook his head, seeming oblivious to the cold, despite his thin long-sleeved shirt and typical black trousers. "How did you know that this was the one?"

Bakura rolled his eyes. "You've only been blathering about for, what, a bloody year?"

"But the colour. The exact model. Oh, my Ra," Marik said, interrupting himself. "This must've cost you a fortune, didn't it? It's new. You didn't spend that kind of money. Did. . .you?" The last sentence was bashfully spoken, his mouth moving having moved over the words quickly on all the rest of the sentences.

"Look, just take your Christmas present and be happy." Bakura started back toward the door, hearing Marik's feet crunch through the snow after him.

"But--"

"But nothing," the spirit replied, harshly. "If I'd felt like I was wasting the money, I wouldn't have gotten you anything in the first place. Except maybe soap. You could use soap."

Marik indignantly grimaced, though did quietly sniff his arm when he was sure Bakura wasn't looking.

"To top it off," Bakura went on, "you haven't even thanked me. You could do that much, you know."

"Thank you." Marik slid inside after Bakura, hands clasped firmly over the keys (do motorbikes have keys? Idek) to his new gift from the usually callous spirit.

Warmth leaped upon the two, the kitchen tiles not as cold as they typically were, partially due to Bakura's sneaky turning up of the thermostat. Marik noticed, and just as sneakily, turned it back down.

"So, anyway, when do you think you'll be heading out of town?" Marik asked, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

"That's your fourth today." Bakura took it, dumping in sugar and milk, effectively ruining the drink. "I don't know; probably in a few days."

"Days? That's longer than usual." Marik poured another cup, skirting out of Bakura's way.

"I thought you weren't allowed to drink coffee anymore," Bakura said, giving up, though shooting death glares. "Didn't your therapist say that stuff only made your anxiety worse?"

"It's not been a problem, lately," Marik replied. "Besides, I fired her."

"Why hasn't it been a problem?"

"I don't know.

"You're lying." Bakura was a liar, a chronic one at that--he saw through lies with ease. But he didn't know why Marik would hide a fact like that from him.

Marik shook his head, bracing himself before taking a sip, burning his tongue. He hissed, spitting into the sink before downing a glass of cold water.

"Tell me." Bakura leaned against the counter. "You're gonna' have to tell Isis why you fired that therapist, anyway. Why not tell me, too?"

"Because you're you."

"So, it's something I can blackmail you with? That's just going to make me want to ask more."

"Yes," Marik said, huffing, "but I won't tell you."

"Tell me."

"No."

"Tell me."

"NO."

"Tell."

"No."

"Tell."

"No, Bakura. Stop--"

"You're going to tell me," Bakura said, waving his hand in front of Marik's face.

"What?" Marik pulled away. "Are you seriously trying the Jedi mind-trick? Ryou should've never let you watch Star Wars."

"Pssh." Bakura drank down his coffee, starting to exit the room. "I'll just read it in your diary."

"I don't have a diary."

"You're supposed to keep one, remember? Your therapist told you to."

"How do you know?" Marik asked, going after Bakura. But he was already setting up the stairs, ignoring Marik, laughing in his British way.

Marik puffed out his cheeks in annoyance, wondering why he ever let Bakura stay. Yet, he knew why--he was the only thing that kept his lonely anxiety away, evil spirit or no.