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Adventures in Yamishipping	By : Cheysulinight Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1094 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Title: Adventures in Yamishipping

Author: Cheysuli

Rated: PG

Pairing: Yami/Bakura/Marik

Warnings: Shounen-ai; OOC; and mistreatment of innocent appliances. You have been warned. If you don't like, don't read.

Chapter Summary: Oh, the evils of modern appliances.

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Yay! Another first for me! Yamishipping! And thanks for the bunny, Leo! Not quite sure if this was what you had in mind but I hope you like. And I meant for this to be a one-shot; I really did. But it didn't work out that way. Heh. Oh, I may change the title. I just needed something to call it.

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"Die, damn you!"
Yami didn't even blink at the loud curse. Or the many crashes that followed. Such noises were normal. He just calmly continued reading his book, figuring that his lovers were simply playing. Although he really wished they wouldn't play in the kitchen; they did have to eat there after all.
"Stop mocking me, you... you thing!"
And he really wished Bakura could come up with more creative curses than that. Ryou was such a bad influence, not letting Bakura learn any Japanese swear words. Although why Bakura didn't just curse in Ancient Egyptian, Yami had no clue. Bakura was so much more creative in his native language.
"Umm... you're in here."
Yami did blink at that, lowering his book to gaze up at Marik, who was standing next the couch Yami was lying on. "Yes, Marik," he answered in amusement. "Where else would I be?"
Marik just glanced towards the kitchen in confusion. "But... if you're here... and I'm here..."
Yami paled, finally realizing what Marik's presence meant. If neither of them was with Bakura, and Bakura was trying to kill something... then that meant... "The kitchen!" Yami screamed, bolting off the couch and out of the room.
Marik blinked at Yami's sudden movements before shaking his head and turning to follow.
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Yami and Marik stared in shock at the sight that met them. The kitchen was a mess; plates and silverware were all over the floor, the fridge's door was hanging off its hinges, and the toaster was... sparking. Yami shook his head. They told Bakura he couldn't put forks in the toaster. But did he listen? Nnnnnnooooooooooo.
Speaking of Bakura...
Yami and Marik groaned when they finally saw their lover. Bakura was at the far end of the kitchen, standing over the remains of what appeared to be the microwave. And he was waving a rolling pin.
"This'll teach you to beep at me, you... you..."
Yami winced and Marik laughed as Bakura finally decided to abandon Japanese and start cursing the thing in Egyptian. Yami took back what he thought earlier. He was glad Bakura didn't know many Japanese swear words. Some of the things he was saying now sounding rather painful and... technically impossible. He'd have to remember to send Ryou a thank you card or something for being so strict.
"You think we should stop him?" Marik asked, watching in amusement as Bakura beat the poor microwave to death with his rolling pin. "I don't think he can cause it anymore damage and normally I'd say let him have his fun. But I think he's bleeding."
Yami glanced at him before turning his full attention to Bakura. Now that he was looking closer, he did see a bit of blood trailing down the rolling pin. He sighed. Trust Bakura to find a way to hurt himself while torturing an inanimate object. "Should I distract him or should you?" he asked in exasperation.
Marik thought a moment. �You distract him. I�ll grab him.�
Yami nodded, moving slowly up to Bakura. �Uh, love?� he asked, as he came to a stop just out of Bakura�s reach. Remembering the rolling pin, he took a step back. �What did the microwave do this time?�
Bakura paused and looked at him, finally realizing he wasn�t alone. �It beeped at me!� he whined. �And it wouldn�t stop!�
Yami nodded as if he understood. �I see,� he said, trying to keep Bakura�s attention off of Marik, who was inching along the side of the room. �It�s a bad microwave and needs to be punished.�
Bakura smiled and nodded, adjusting his grip on the rolling pin. It was feeling a bit slippery for some reason.
Yami sighed. �How does that explain the fridge? Or the silverware on the floor? Or the toaster?�
Bakura blinked. �Uh, well... I guess I did make a bit of a mess while searching for something to kill the microwave with,� he said, chewing nervously on his lower lip. �I�ll clean it up.�
Yami was almost afraid to ask. �And... the toaster?�
Bakura winced. �My toast got stuck. So I used a fork to get it out... and the toaster started sparking and the lights flickered. That�s when the microwave started beeping.�
�How many times do we have to tell you not to put anything but food in the toaster?� Marik asked, coming up behind Bakura and wrapping his arms around his waist. �You could have been electrocuted,� he continued, gently easing Bakura�s �weapon� away from him. �And you forgot to mention how you hurt your hand.
Bakura flinched, startled at Marik�s sudden appearance, and glanced curiously at his bleeding hand. Which was hurting pretty bad now that he thought about it. �Oh, uh... I hadn�t noticed that. Until now.�
Yami sighed and moved closer, taking Bakura�s hand in his own. �This is pretty bad, Bakura,� he said, trying to clean some of the blood away. �I think you need stitches.�
Bakura frowned. He hated getting stitches. Well, actually, it was the doctor he hated. Always groping him and telling him what a nice boy he was...
Marik felt Bakura�s shiver and pulled him closer, taking the chance to get his own look at Bakura�s injury. �Tell me, how did you manage to seriously injure yourself while attacking an appliance?�
�Well,� Bakura began, trying not to wince as Yami continued to inspect his hand. �I was trying to stab the microwave... and my hand slipped. And how was I supposed to know microwaves were that hard!� he whined, looking at Yami with tearful eyes.
They blinked at him, both realizing that they would have to once again explain to Bakura the dangers of modern life. And now they had to add �microwaves are harder than knives� to the ever growing list. �We really should write these things down for him,� Yami thought, as he left Bakura in Marik�s capable hands to go in search of the first aid kit. �I swear he�s worse than a child sometimes.�

It was true; Bakura was like a child at times. Always rushing in without thinking, saying the strangest things, wanting to play all the time... ok, so his idea of playing usually involved some kind of destruction; but he still considered it a game. And the smallest things could upset him.
Like when the microwave beeped at him.
Yami frowned as he grabbed the kit from its place under the sink, and not for the first time wondered exactly how old Bakura had been when he had been sealed into the Ring. Bakura never told them. Hell, Yami didn't think even Ryou knew. And Bakura told Ryou everything. Well, almost everything. Yami seriously doubted Bakura told Ryou anything about his life in Egypt. And he didn't think Bakura told him about what he did when the cops had to drag him home in the middle of the night. And he probably didn't tell Ryou about his sex life... or his friends... or his feelings...
Ok, so he hardly told Ryou anything.
Realizing that his mind had drifted, Yami turned back to Bakura and Marik. Only... they were no longer there. He blinked in confusion for a moment, having not heard them leave, but shrugged when he remembered they were thieves. And thieves hardly ever made any noise. Unless they were attacking innocent microwaves, that is.
Yami sighed as he carefully - so as to avoid tripping over the scattered debris - made his way from the kitchen, frowning slightly as he noticed drops of blood creating a trail into the next room. Bakura really needed to be more careful while trying to kill things. That or Yami needed to lock up all the sharp objects in the house. 'Oh, there's no point to that,' he thought as entered the living room, where Marik had Bakura seated on the couch and was kneeling in front of him, wrapping Bakura's hand in a piece of cloth he had found somewhere. 'He'll just find something non-sharp to hurt himself with. How the hell did he survive alone in Egypt?'

"Yami? Yami, you there?"
Yami shook his head, realizing he had been drifting again, and handed Marik the first aid kit. "So how bad is it?" he asked as he sat next to Bakura, who was calmly watching Marik tend to his hand. Well, calmly until he saw Marik go for the peroxide.
Marik sighed as he stopped cleaning the cut and waited until Yami had a hold of the now struggling Bakura. "Honestly, Bakura; how is it you don't notice a two inch gash but you can't handle a little disinfectant?" he asked as he poured a bit of the liquid onto Bakura's hand.
Bakura winced and tried to jerk his hand away, but was prevented from doing so by Yami's tight grip on his arm. "It burns!" he cried. "Stop it! Get it off!"
Yami tightened his grip on Bakura and pulled the thief against him, praying that Marik would hurry up and finish. "It's your own fault, Bakura. You should know by now that you shouldn't play with knives."
"But it was beeping at me!"
Marik growled as Bakura, who had just remembered his legs could be weapons, nearly kicked him in the face. "I don't care what the microwave did; you stop moving or I'll bathe you in this stuff."
Bakura stopped moving. Completely.
Marik sighed in frustration. "You can breathe," he said, putting the peroxide away and grabbing a roll of bandages.
Bakura started breathing again and sagged against Yami, staring at him with wide, innocent, pleading eyes. Yes; Ryou was definitely a bad influence. No thank you card for him. "Sorry, Bakura," Yami said, pointedly not looking at either of his lovers. 'Must resist the eyes. Must resist the eyes...' He heard Bakura whimper and accidentally looked at him. Big mistake. The wide, innocent, pleading eyes had now become the wide, innocent, tearful eyes.
It was amazing how Bakura could go from dangerous thief to upset child in the blink of an eye. How he could go from someone who you knew could survive alone in the world to someone you felt needed to be protected, wrapped in cotton and locked away.
It was times like these that Yami felt like he was robbing the cradle.
�There! All done!�
Yami looked down at Marik, who was smiling brightly as he inspected his work. Yami slowly released Bakura, whose right hand was now tightly bandaged. There was no need to keep a hold on him now that the task was done.
�You�ll still have to go to the doctor and get stitches, though.�
And as Bakura bolted from the room, Yami realized that he really should have kept hold of him. Stupid Marik; why couldn�t he have said that a few seconds sooner?! Yami sighed. �So, should you chase him or should I?�
Marik just laughed.

TBC...

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A/N: Well, that was a long chapter (for me). Five pages. And to think, this was supposed to be a short little one-shot.
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Adventures in Yamishipping