Chapter Text
Ryou gasped, brown eyes huge on Bakura's computer screen as he leaned in closer to his webcam.
“I can't believe you were able to beat the Moon Lord so quickly, Bakura! Which equips did you use?!”
Bakura couldn't help but smirk as he leaned back in his chair and played with his hair in mock modesty, twirling a silver lock around his finger.
“Yes, and with no heart statues. I used a UFO, of course, but the real trick was-”
“Hey Bakura, where did you get that bracelet?”
Bakura blanched, caught already. His cheeks quickly started to heat up even as he scrambled for a lie.
“This? Oh, I just found it-”
“Don't even try it, Del Rio.”
Bakura sighed. Ryou knew him too well. It had only been a matter of time before Ryou noticed the bracelet and commented, since Bakura never wore anything he had stolen.
“Does this have something to do with your roommate? The one you rated nine-point-five out of ten?”
“Okay, listen-”
“Only a 9.5, Bakura?” Marik interrupted as he stepped into Bakura’s bedroom uninvited. “How could you lie to him like that?”
Bakura flushed and averted his eyes as Ryou laughed and waved at Marik. Marik waved back, then pulled Bakura’s desk chair back far enough that he could climb onto Bakura’s lap. That left Bakura more red than brown, but he couldn’t resist wrapping his arms around Marik and sneaking a quick kiss against his shoulder.
“Hi, I’m Ryou! I used to be Bakura’s friend, but I guess I’m not any more because he didn’t even tell me he had a crush on someone!”
Marik pretended to look offended.
“Bakura! You haven’t told everyone in your life about how great I am, yet?!”
Bakura gave them both the finger.
“Well, hello Ryou, I’m Bakura’s roommate. He didn’t give me much of a choice because he broke into my apartment and made himself at home.”
“Hey, fuck you Marik, you know that-”
Ryou laughed. “Yup, that sounds like him! We became friends after he stole my identity to get into the United States.”
“Hey! I didn’t steal it, you lent it to me-”
“Bakura, how the fuck can you borrow someone’s identity?”
“Marik, fuck off, we were kids and-”
“So Ryou, has he always hated clothing?”
“Oh god, yes! I thought he just didn’t have a whole lot of clothes that fit, but he did.”
“Kiss my ass, Mexico is hot and-”
“Oh yeah, and this air-conditioned apartment is also too hot for clothing?”
“Well, no, but-”
“Marik, so it’s true that Bakura’s a snuggler?”
“Hey, listen you lil’ shits-”
“Extremely true, this man loves to cuddle.”
“Marik, how could you? ”
Marik kissed his grumpy cheek.
“Don’t worry, Bakura, you have no street cred here anyways.”
Ryou started laughing so hard that tears filled his eyes and Bakura tried to look really pissed off, but he really couldn’t stay mad when Marik was grinning and Ryou was laughing so genuinely.
“I can’t believe I’m friends with you assholes.”
Ryou wiped his tears away, still laughing. “He’s so sweet, he called us his friends!”
Marik patted Bakura’s cheek affectionately. “He’s so loving. So Ryou, you knew him as a kid, right? Any embarrassing stories?”
“Ryou, no!”
“Ryou, yes!”
Ryou’s grin was wide enough to look almost evil. “As long as you tell me embarrassing stories about him as an adult.”
Bakura covered his eyes. He was regretting every decision he had ever made up to this point.
Marik noticed his existential despair and took pity on him.
“Well, maybe we can trade stories another day. How did you guys meet?”
Bakura thanked him with a kiss on the shoulder.
Ryou, amused, went along with Marik’s suggestion.
“Sounds good! It all started when my dad was invited to a Teotihuacan dig in Mexico. I went with him, expecting to be by myself all day in the tent, when suddenly another kid walked in like he owned it!”
“I believe it, that was Bakura in my kitchen while I was asleep!”
Bakura sighed. This was going to be a long conversation.
Bakura was sitting on the couch, idly strumming the guitar strings as his fingers warmed up. He had settled into a familiar chord progression when he heard the jingling of Marik's keys just outside the front door. He smiled then, waiting until Marik entered through the door to shoot him a playful wink, the guitar thrumming softly.
Marik's face immediately lit up at the sight of him, and Bakura missed a string when he switched chords because the bright lavender of Marik's eyes and the sweet curve of his lips. Of course, this only made the Egyptian laugh at him for being such a lovesick loser, but the sound of his laugh was more than reward enough for the indignity.
Regaining control over his fingers, Bakura returned to his warm up while Marik set his bookbag down near the floor and slipped onto the couch next to him. Marik's arm wrapped around Bakura’s waist, and the Mexican leaned against him with a happy sigh, shifting a little so his arms remained free while his back was pressed up against Marik’s side.
Marik buried his nose in Bakura’s hair as he listened to the random chords melt into a proper song, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo. After a while, he mustered up his courage and pressed a kiss onto Bakura’s head before asking, “Bakura, do you remember the song you first sang to me…?”
The guitar’s song slowed, and Marik could hear the smile in Bakura’s voice when he replied, “Of course I do.”
Marik hugged Bakura a little bit closer, then lowered his head to whisper in his ear. “You know, that song was what made me start falling for you.”
Bakura kept strumming, though Marik knew that he was feeling smug at the confession. “Even though you didn’t understand any of the lyrics?”
“Even though I didn’t understand any of the lyrics.” Marik’s free hand moved to twirl several of Bakura’s silver strands of hair between his fingers. “But, you know, I’ve taken a half a year of Spanish now. I bet I could understand at least some of it if you sang it for me again.”
Bakura missed another string, and Marik grinned. If Bakura was flustered at his question, then that made him feel a little better about his own nerves. He couldn’t quite see Bakura’s expression, but there was some deep emotion he was struggling to hide when he asked Marik, “Do you remember any of the words?”
Marik scowled. “No, but I’ll know if you change them on me.” He then ran his fingers gently through Bakura’s hair with a playful smirk. “Sing me the same song exactly, and don’t leave any of the mushy parts out.”
Bakura’s shoulders shook for a moment, and Marik was puzzled until the Mexican said, “Alright, as long as I get to watch you fall in love again.” Then he pulled away from his side, settling on the other end of the couch.
Marik sat up, butterflies fluttering madly in his stomach as Bakura started playing again, gray hair covering his expression as he looked down at the guitar. It had been almost a year, but Marik immediately recognized the opening chords and ran his fingers through his hair to smooth it down.
Bakura looked up again and Marik was struck by how devilishly handsome he looked, a wide grin on his face and his eyes half-lidded, a halo of mussed silver hair and his scar a sign of having been through hell and back.
He opened those soft lips of his to sing, “Hola Marikita,” and Marik smiled because even if he knew the name was actually derogatory now, he knew that Bakura no longer meant it.
"Como te llamas? " he continued, and Marik understood, resting his head in his hands as Bakura answered to himself, "Me llamo Bakura, me llamo Bakura- la dai di laila."
Marik admitted to himself that he didn’t understand the last part, but then Bakura added, "Me gusta la biblioteca , vivo en la casa roja."
Marik understood those words, but surely he hadn’t quite understood the meaning? His smile started to fade as Bakura continued, "Yo tengo dos bicicletas, muchas gracias y de nada!"
As Marik grew more confused, Bakura’s grin only got wider, and his voice sounded more and more like he was trying not to laugh.
"Cuanto años tienes?" Bakura moved to sit closer to Marik again, "Un momento por favor," and Bakura’s shit-eating grin couldn’t have possibly gotten any wider as he whispered in Marik’s ear, "Es la canción del primer semestre de Español."
“You bastard,” fell from Marik’s lips and Bakura’s laughter filled the apartment before he continued to serenade Marik, who cursed himself for not having done the same and who couldn’t help but fall a little more deeply in love at the perfectly-executed trick.