A/N: Okay, so I've been in love with this couple for a while, and I just hope this two-shot does it justice. I also hope neither Bakura nor Marik appears too OOC. I tried to keep them as cannon as possible, so hopefully there's not too much deviation. This is also my first time writing something lemony, so I'm not sure how it turned out. Also, if I ignored any cannon facts, then I apologize in advance.

This story occurs after the end of the anime, Season 6, so that's why Bakura would be expected to be gone.

Warning: I never set out to write a lime/lemon, but it's in here, in Part 2. So if two men having sex squicks you, then don't read this. Also beware of swearing.

When the Rain Falls Black - Part 1

Marik felt panicked. His quick-beating heart was lodged in his throat, as he stepped quickly through the dark alleyway. His feet pounded the muddy alley floor, splashing rainwater in all directions. The rain fell ceaselessly in thick sheets, accentuated by brief flashes of lightning, which only revealed Marik's anxious face as he ran.

He wasn't far enough. His pursuers would be enraged if they caught him. After all, what Marik had stolen wasn't simply a dusty old artifact. And as Marik considered the item he clutched tightly in his right hand, the corner of his lip curled upward. The adrenaline he felt from the crime was exquisite. He hadn't felt more alive in years. At least, not since his final days as Tombkeeper.

The rain had drenched his body, but he was too invigorated with the thrill of escape to notice the cold or discomfort. The security guards from the museum were close, he sensed them, but stopping to check now would only give them time to catch up. Marik's eyes narrowed against the blinding rain and darkness to catch better sight of where he was going. He had been running down these dank alleys for too long.

As Marik rounded the corner of an alleyway hastily, he suddenly slammed headlong into something. The object caused him to fall backward from the force of his momentum, and fall straight into a murky puddle. Marik looked up, angered and confused. He was losing time. The guards would surely be on him soon.

At that moment, as Marik struggled to stand up, the skies lit up in a flash of lightning and the object of his fall became as clear as daylight.

Standing there, right before Marik, was none other than Bakura.

Bakura was staring down at him expressionlessly. His white hair was matted slightly from the merciless rain and his button-down blue shirt was thrown open to reveal the striped shirt beneath, which was distinctly missing the Millenium Ring, the object that usually completed the outfit. In the split second Marik had to stare up at his former partner, Bakura cocked his head and smirked slightly, as water slid down his face and slipped off his angular features. Then, the alleyway went dark again as the flash of lightning was swallowed up by the night.

"Marik. You were the last person I'd expected to find in Japan," Bakura said through the darkness. "After defeating your dark side, I thought you'd stay in Egypt and quietly fulfill your Tombkeeper duties."

Due to the moonlight, Marik could slightly see Bakura's shape as the latter folded his arms, but Marik had no time to dawdle. He was shocked to have run into Bakura—hadn't the spirit been defeated after the final battle of the Past?—but there was the pressing issue of being caught and much-needed explanations could wait.

"I don't have the time for you, Bakura," Marik snapped as he shot off the alleyway floor in an instant, getting out of the puddle, and brushed past Bakura, knocking his shoulder as he hurried to round the corner. The guards would be close. He needed to get away.

Suddenly, Bakura's hand caught Marik's arm and Bakura wheeled him around to bring them face to face.

"What's your hurry, Marik? You don't have time to catch up with old friends?" Bakura asked silkily. Curiosity was evident in his tone, and perhaps ire at being so obviously brushed off.

Marik jerked his arm out of Bakura's grasp. "Leave me the hell alone, Bakura! I need to get out of here before—"

But suddenly, several things happened all at once. They heard the sound of footsteps spattering through the muddy alleys behind them and flashlights beaming in all directions. In that same instant, the sky lit up in a lightning flash again and Bakura's eyes fell to the object Marik clutched tightly in his right hand. Marik had raised his hand unconsciously earlier, perhaps in retaliation to Bakura's sudden grasp, and now Bakura was eyeing it with surprise and wonder. Then, just as quickly as his eyes had widened, they narrowed again and his expression looked set. Comprehension had settled across his face.

"You're coming with me. And I'm not letting you go without an explanation." Bakura grabbed Marik's arm again and sprinted forward in the direction Marik had been running before he'd been stopped.

"Hey—what the fuck—get your hands off of me," Marik protested as Bakura splashed through the puddles, dragging him forward. He felt unbalanced as Bakura hauled him forward carelessly and dug his fingers unnecessarily deeply into Marik's arm. In an effort to get the situation under control, Marik threw Bakura's hand off himself again but continued running alongside him. As long as he put distance between himself and those guards, he didn't care whom he ran with.

Bakura seemed to know the alleyways quite well. He ran without considering where he was going and Marik simply followed, tucking the artifact he'd stolen deeper into his cloak. The last thing he'd wanted was to let Bakura know of what he'd stolen, but that was beyond his control now. He could only trust that Bakura would keep him from being caught. The idea that he would keep him safe was laughable, however, and Marik wasn't sure if it was worse being caught by the guards or by Bakura.

"How did you manage it?" Bakura asked suddenly as they sprinted through the dark alleys. "I've been eyeing the new exhibit for a few days now. But I thought the security was too strict to attempt anything. And yet, you've done it."

Marik huffed slightly. He'd been running for a while now, and conversation would only exhaust him. "I don't see what's so intimidating about those guards. If you're stealthy enough, the exhibit isn't too difficult to rob."

He didn't know how he knew it, but he sensed Bakura smirking. "You're surprising, Marik. Here I'd thought you'd just go back to Egypt a good little boy and never steal anything again."

Marik didn't reply as he ran. His entire backside was soaked from his fall in the puddle and the rain was falling even harder. However, no matter how much he strained his hearing, he couldn't hear the guards' footfalls behind him. Despite his misgivings about trusting Bakura, he thought he might be safe after all. They were out of the alleyways now and running down the streets.

Bakura slowed down as he neared an apartment complex. They entered the building and Bakura pulled out a key to open a door directly on the first floor. As Bakura entered the apartment, Marik hesitated. If he knew Bakura, he wasn't being kind by just letting him stay the night while the guards gave up hope of finding the criminal. He certainly had ulterior motives, and they probably included stealing the item Marik had robbed from the museum exhibit.

"Well?" Bakura prompted, when he noticed that Marik still hadn't come in. "If you prefer to stand out there all night, you're welcome to it. But first, you're going to explain how you came by that thing." He stared pointedly at Marik's cloak pocket, somehow knowing exactly where Marik had placed it.

Reluctantly, Marik pursed his lips and stepped into the apartment. He took a few steps into the dank, undecorated apartment as Bakura flipped on the lights and went into the kitchen. Marik took off his cloak awkwardly and left it in a pile by the entranceway. He kept the stolen object clutched in his right hand.

He followed Bakura into the kitchen and noticed the latter pulling something out of the freezer. Upon closer inspection, he noticed it was a large piece of steak, which made Marik's stomach churn with disgust. Bakura dropped the steak onto a plate and placed it into the microwave to defrost it.

Then, Bakura turned to face Marik. They stared at each other for several moments and the only sound was the whir of the microwave. And the question that Marik had had nagging at the back of his head since running into Bakura finally emerged.

"How the hell are you alive, Bakura?" Marik asked bluntly, crossing his arms. "You died when the Pharaoh sealed Zorc."

Bakura smirked. "So I did. But then again…"

He stepped forward, approaching Marik, and leaned in close. Marik panicked, unsure of what Bakura was planning to do, but knowing it wouldn't be pleasant, and backed up. He found only the wall behind him. Bakura's smile widened as he trapped Marik. Then, giving him an ardent look, Bakura suddenly grabbed the object Marik was clutching, which Marik gave up in the split second of surprise at Bakura's expression. Bakura walked back to the table, looking as though nothing unusual had happened, and examined the item.

"Then again, the Millenium items were thought to have disappeared as well," Bakura finished as he eyed the golden Millenium Rod he'd just seized from Marik. "They were sealed in the Pharaoh's final resting place after his soul left this world. And yet, here they are again. Excavated from Egypt and guarded at a Japanese museum."

Marik's hands fisted, still unsure why Bakura had just acted so oddly. "Give that back, Bakura. I've gone through all that trouble to steal it—"

"I don't intend to keep it, Marik. You can have it back as soon as I'm assured that it's the real Rod."

"Of course it's the real Rod. I would know since I've owned it before," Marik said haughtily. "Besides, I thought you were more interested in the Ring?"

Bakura's eyes lit up. "Yes, the Ring. You didn't happen to steal that while you were robbing the museum, did you?"

"No. I only took the Rod. It's most useful to me as it will let me control the minds of the security guards and enable me to steal the rest of the items." Marik paused as he stared at Bakura, still unable to believe it was really him. "You still haven't answered my question. How did you survive?"

Bakura ran his hands along the golden shaft of the Rod for a moment, before he finally glanced at Marik. "I probably couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. My best guess is that the return of the items somehow brought me back as well. It seems as though I'm destined to return as long as these things keep showing up."

Marik raised an eyebrow. "That's convenient. And a bit farfetched, in my opinion."

"As I said, it's quite inexplicable." Bakura set the Rod down on the kitchen table and turned to the microwave that began beeping at that moment. "Now, since you've stolen the Rod, you intend to steal the rest of the items?"

Marik considered the direction of the conversation. It seemed like he and Bakura were once again pursuing a similar cause. Bakura would want the items again now that both he and they were back. Marik wasn't sure how inclined he was to partner up with Bakura again, especially after the way they'd been defeated by his dark side last time. But even as Marik considered the idea of robbing the museum for the rest of the items with Bakura, his heart sped up. Since Bakura had been defeated and Marik had stayed in Egypt like a "good boy," as Bakura had just suggested, Marik had been preoccupied with the temptation of freedom. With the enticement of being wicked and immoral again. Despite the defeat of his dark side, there was nothing to be gained by going back to Egypt. His life had been boring there. Coming back to Japan and stealing the Millenium Rod had been so liberating that he found he couldn't go back to his less exhilarating life. Marik glanced briefly at Bakura as he pulled out a pan from a cupboard, and realized that if there was one person that could make life exhilarating, it would surely be the spirit of the Millenium Ring.

"Yes. That's what I intend to do," Marik finally responded. Feeling slightly more comfortable than when he'd first come in, he sat down at the kitchen table.

In the meantime, Bakura had begun frying his steak on the stovetop. The meat was dripping blood as it sizzled and Marik didn't miss the voracious look Bakura gave the piece of steak as he flipped it.

"In that case, I don't suppose you have any inclination to work as partners again?" Bakura turned to look at Marik. "You own the Rod again, after all. But you'll need my thieving expertise if you want to steal all the items."

Marik snorted. "Thieving expertise? You forget I was the one who wasn't scared of those measly guards and stole the Rod."

Bakura smiled. "And you forget that you would've been caught if I hadn't helped you. Besides, you probably don't have any place to hide while you're in Japan. I don't suppose you're just going to stroll into a hotel after pulling off that stunt tonight."

These words rang true, Marik considered, but he didn't want to rely on Bakura's help.

"What do you say, Blondie? Do we have a deal?" Bakura asked.

Marik pursed his lips, annoyed with that nickname, but not quite knowing why. "Yes, we have a deal. But don't call me that. Just because we've been partners before, it doesn't mean we're on such personal terms."

Bakura simply smirked. "I think now is a good time as any to be on those terms. We'll be working together after all."

"It's still no reason to act like you know me so well," Marik retorted. But even as Bakura turned to attend to his steak, he couldn't help but feel that Bakura did know him. And quite well.

Finally, Bakura slapped the severely undercooked steak onto a plate and placed it on the table, turning off the stove. He sat down and began eating ravenously, without regard to the questioning look Marik was giving him.

"Do you intend to give me something to eat too? Or is that not part of the deal, feeding me?" Marik asked irately.

Bakura glanced at him briefly, while ripping the steak with his teeth. His mouth was bathed in blood as it dripped down his chin and onto the tabletop. Marik raised his eyebrows, both fascinated and disgusted with this raw display of animalism.

"You could check my fridge, but I doubt you'd find anything you like to eat." Bakura said, wrinkling his nose. "I don't have any of that vegetarian trash you eat."

"Trash? And what the hell do you call that?" Marik stared pointedly at the glistening, bloody meat.

But Bakura only smirked, not looking the slightest bit offended. "This is real food. And it's much more appetizing than your vegetarian rubbish."

Marik dropped the conversation, not knowing what else to say. It was obvious he'd have to find some food for himself tomorrow. It was probably two in the morning by now and he had no inclination to wander the streets again.

As he stared at Bakura's animalistic eating habits, he felt transfixed. Bakura was digging his teeth deeply into the meat, and then ripping it rapaciously, as though he hadn't eaten in days. The rivulets of blood dripped down his face, falling onto the plate and tabletop without regard. Then, as Marik caught his eye, Bakura looked at him ravenously, licking his lips. The corners of his mouth stretched into a smile as he revealed bloodied teeth. Looking into Bakura's voracious expression, Marik felt a shiver run down his back. If he hadn't known any better, he would've thought Bakura was attempting to seduce him. And if he was, Marik was afraid that he would've succeeded. The animalistic way he ate was very akin to a similar animalistic act.

Finally, after being unable to withstand staring at Bakura any longer, Marik stood from the table.

"I need a shower," he stated. "I hope you have a decent bathroom in this godforsaken apartment."

"First door to the left," Bakura replied smoothly, finishing his steak. He licked his fingers, apparently satiated, and looked like a cat that was cleaning its paws after a spectacular kill. Or like a lover during a fuck.

Marik had to look away. These sexually laced actions were making him unbelievably unnerved.

He went in the direction Bakura had indicated and found the bathroom. He stripped off the dirty, black shirt he wore and his combats, throwing the clothes in a corner. Stepping into the shower stall, he turned on the hot water and stood in the direct path of the spray. He noted that Bakura hadn't lived in this apartment for very long. He'd probably only rented it for the duration of his stay in Japan. There was only a bar of soap in the stall and a nearly full bottle of shampoo.

Marik cleansed himself thoroughly, careful with the scars on his back, as always. His thoughts drifted to the other man currently residing in this apartment. He couldn't believe his luck, he thought sarcastically. Finding Bakura, of all people, in Japan's alleyways. Though he was still reluctant to partner up again, he had to admit that Bakura would be useful. He'd been the Thief King of Egypt's past and would surely know what to do.

Marik leaned against the wall, letting the spray hit him, and closed his eyes. He'd harbored cravings for the spirit since the last time they'd partnered in the Battle City tournament. He knew it was just physical want and didn't understand why his dislike or distrust of Bakura didn't at least dampen these feelings. And of course, Bakura wasn't helpful with the voracious way he devoured his steak and stared at Marik.

His thoughts were interrupted when he suddenly heard someone throw open the door to the bathroom. Marik was startled. He pulled part of the curtain to the shower stall open and stared at his intruder.

"What the hell, Bakura? Couldn't you hear that I was showering?" Marik shouted, angered beyond belief that he couldn't get any privacy around here.

Bakura simply gave him a bored look as he placed a pair of clothes on the bathroom countertop.

"That's precisely why I decided to give you something to change into." Bakura looked at Marik's wet face, poking out of the shower stall. "That is, unless you want to walk around naked. Which will be fine by me, but I thought I'd at least give you some options."

Marik's face turned red. "Fine, just leave them there. And get out."

Bakura smirked as he turned and left the bathroom, closing the door.

Sighing in frustration, Marik snapped the curtain back and resumed showering. Honestly, if Bakura continued saying and doing these things, Marik would snap and do something regrettable.

After finishing his shower, Marik changed into the blue button-down shirt and black pants Bakura had given him. After his initial anger, he found himself surprised that Bakura had even thought of Marik's need for clothing. Upon leaving the bathroom, he went in search of the spirit to find out where he'd sleep.

"I think the couch should suit you," Bakura stated when Marik asked him about sleeping arrangements.

"That ratty old thing?" Marik grumbled, eyeing the shabby couch that was tucked in a corner of the tiny living room. It was torn in several places and had some unidentifiable spots on the cushions. "I'd rather sleep on the floor."

"That could also be arranged," Bakura said cheerfully. "There's some sheets in the utility closet. Make yourself at home."

With that, Bakura left the room, and Marik was left with a pair of sheets, a ragged couch, and no pillow. He proceeded to cover the couch with the sheets, deciding that it would be a long night.

A/N: I hope the story is remotely decent up to this point. Please let me know what you think! I'll be posting Part 2 soon.

Thanks for reading!