Unorthodox Success
Summary: Bakura teaches an unwilling Ryou to become the perfect thief, Malik and Marik revolutionize Duel Monsters in an "interesting" way, and Yami and Yugi struggle to deal with the results. Humor, yaoi, ooc, and pure FLUFF. And, of course, leather pants for all.
AN: So, here it is. This is the product of an entirely warped imagination that was totally sugar high. Bow down to the pop called Crush, for it was my inspiration ^_^. Along with, of course, all of those wonderfully fluffy and funny fics out there. *huggles fics* Where would we be without 'em?
Disclaimer: I don't own Yugioh, but what a great world it would be if I did.
__________
Chapter One: Subtle Beginnings (aka Bakura and the Cliche Leather Pants)
__________
My room was in shambles. Clothes were strewn haphazardly over everything, creating a garment jungle. I was in he middle of the mess, braving it out on my bed, while somewhere in the fabric haze my yami lurked, hunting.
Hunting for what, you ask?
I don't know. I don't want to know. You see, when my yami gets in these moods, he can come up with something as normal as a cupcake with strawberry frosting to something as horrifically random as an animal sacrifice to appease the gods. Also with strawberry frosting.
So I figured the best thing to do was just wait out the little tornado of clothes that had taken residence in my room. Snuggling up into the blankets, I pulled out a manga from the little cache under my pillow and began to read.
"AHA!" Bakura cried in victory, appearing somewhere in the middle of a stack of cardigans and black turtlenecks. He looked at me with a smug smile.
"I found it. I knew you had to have something that didn't scream 'Why yes, I did buy this sweater-slack outfit at Banana Republic!' Victory is mine!" He pumped his fist in the air, revealing a pair of red leather pants clenched in his hand. I stared, my mind totally taken off the wonderful world of Naruto (1).
I didn't remember buying those.
Bakura stared at me.
I stared back.
"Well?!" He snarled, folding his arms and glaring at me.
Well what?
"They're very...er, shiny?" I said helplessly.
"Yes, they are indeed." He continued to glare meaningfully at me. What, am I supposed to be able to read eyes?
Oh. He wanted me to help him find something to match it. Maybe I *can* read eyes, or it could have been the //Find a matching shirt for me!// that was yelled across the telepathic link we have.
I sighed and set my manga down, rolling off of the comfortable bed to wade across the swamp of apparel. I would not be cleaning this. In fact, I would sit on my bed, reading my nice manga while Bakura cleaned this. With a toothbrush. Although improbable, the thought was amusing.
In fact, when did I have so many clothes? Surely my single dresser couldn't hold enough pants and shirts to fill my room waist-deep in them?
When I reached my yami, I took the pants from him, They were slippery and made of that wow-any-tighter-and-I-would-be-nekked leather, and I had to use all of my self-control NOT to picture my yami in them.
And, of course, the unbidden image of my yami in those exact pants rose to flounder in my mind. Suddenly, my nose began bleeding (2). Note to self: excursive self-control.
Luckily Bakura had chosen that moment to dive back into the sea of clothes, and I was able to stem the blood flow with a nearby t-shirt. I sighed and began to rummage through the nearest mountain of fabric, stopping only when I came across something tight in black or white.
After all, you can't match reds.
Soon enough I had gathered a small collection of muscle shirts, tight t-shirts, and those little midriff shirts that Malik wears.
When did I buy these clothes again? All I remember getting were modest, simple clothes, and now it seems as if my wardrobe has been, well, slut-tified.
I began to hum happily and shrugged my shoulders, meanwhile laying the shirts on the bed. If my yami looked like a slut, no objections here. In fact, he never wore baggy sweaters or worn-out jeans in *my* wet daydreams. Nope, fantasy!Bakura always wore skimpy clothes. And trust me, I have quite the imagination.
Suddenly, Bakura popped out next to me near a nest of cargo pants, grinning like a madman (wait, he was) and deposited a pile of pants onto the bed, next to the shirts. I spotted black jeans, another pair of those red pants, and a pair of black shimmery pants that looked curiously like Yami Yugi's.
"So," I began. "What brought on this clothing massacre?" I waved around the room, which somewhat resembled a war ground, with mass causalities of limp cotton, denim, and other fabrics. A pair of silk boxers fell from the ceiling fan. My yami caught them with a deft hand and flung them into the fray, where they were immediately lost among a chaotic pile of sweaters.
Frowning, Bakura held up a black sleeveless cutoff shirt, complete with red netting for sleeves. He gave me The Eye and didn't answer.
The Eye, if you don't know, is an evil stare performed by narrowing the eyes, contracting the eyebrows, and perhaps baring the fangs if necessary. In this case, it wasn't.
"Where in the world did you get these clothes?" He said sinisterly, carefully setting the shirt down upon a pair of his original red leather pants. 'Good combination,' I thought idly. 'But that millennium ring will throw the whole outfit off.'
"T-the mall," I squeaked smoothly. In fact, I had no clue where the clothes came from. Perhaps they were some kind of perverted hybrids that were spawned by the mating of a wayward pair of jeans and a sock, but I somehow doubted that.
Bakura seemed satisfied with my answer, and began to pair up the selected clothes into outfits that promised me many more nosebleeds in the future. Idly I started in too, matching a crimson muscle shirt with black jeans, a tight, ripped black t-shirt with red leather and so on.
We finished in record time. By the time we were done we had about twenty outfits.
I decided just to stop wondering where the clothes had come from. It just wasn't worth it.
"This is great," Bakura whispered, running his fingers over the clothes. "Do you know what this means?"
'That I will have to keep myself on a leash to keep myself from jumping you?' I though cynically, my eyes glued on his fingers. God, even his hands were sexy.
"No, what?" I responded, mentally smacking myself and repeating in my mind 'Self control is good, self control is good...'
My yami gave me a weird look. Oops, I guess I thought out loud.
He looked thoughtful for a moment, before smiling at me. "This means I won't have to steal clothes." I fell over, sweat dropping (3).
Little did I know exactly what those clothes would get *me* into.
__________
1- Naruto. Wah, go buy the manga. NOW! You can also download the anime, and I highly recommend it. Especially episodes 3 and 20 *wink*.
2- Nosebleed= turn on. Also, it's an anime thing ^_^.
3- Sweatdropping and falling over? Anime thing.
AN: Riiiiiiiiiight. The wonderful drink known as 'Crush' induces this story, and I suggest you go and drink some. I have no clue where to go from here, so any suggestions would be peachy keen!
REVIEW??? Oh please oh please oh please?
Summary: Bakura teaches an unwilling Ryou to become the perfect thief, Malik and Marik revolutionize Duel Monsters in an "interesting" way, and Yami and Yugi struggle to deal with the results. Humor, yaoi, ooc, and pure FLUFF. And, of course, leather pants for all.
AN: So, here it is. This is the product of an entirely warped imagination that was totally sugar high. Bow down to the pop called Crush, for it was my inspiration ^_^. Along with, of course, all of those wonderfully fluffy and funny fics out there. *huggles fics* Where would we be without 'em?
Disclaimer: I don't own Yugioh, but what a great world it would be if I did.
__________
Chapter One: Subtle Beginnings (aka Bakura and the Cliche Leather Pants)
__________
My room was in shambles. Clothes were strewn haphazardly over everything, creating a garment jungle. I was in he middle of the mess, braving it out on my bed, while somewhere in the fabric haze my yami lurked, hunting.
Hunting for what, you ask?
I don't know. I don't want to know. You see, when my yami gets in these moods, he can come up with something as normal as a cupcake with strawberry frosting to something as horrifically random as an animal sacrifice to appease the gods. Also with strawberry frosting.
So I figured the best thing to do was just wait out the little tornado of clothes that had taken residence in my room. Snuggling up into the blankets, I pulled out a manga from the little cache under my pillow and began to read.
"AHA!" Bakura cried in victory, appearing somewhere in the middle of a stack of cardigans and black turtlenecks. He looked at me with a smug smile.
"I found it. I knew you had to have something that didn't scream 'Why yes, I did buy this sweater-slack outfit at Banana Republic!' Victory is mine!" He pumped his fist in the air, revealing a pair of red leather pants clenched in his hand. I stared, my mind totally taken off the wonderful world of Naruto (1).
I didn't remember buying those.
Bakura stared at me.
I stared back.
"Well?!" He snarled, folding his arms and glaring at me.
Well what?
"They're very...er, shiny?" I said helplessly.
"Yes, they are indeed." He continued to glare meaningfully at me. What, am I supposed to be able to read eyes?
Oh. He wanted me to help him find something to match it. Maybe I *can* read eyes, or it could have been the //Find a matching shirt for me!// that was yelled across the telepathic link we have.
I sighed and set my manga down, rolling off of the comfortable bed to wade across the swamp of apparel. I would not be cleaning this. In fact, I would sit on my bed, reading my nice manga while Bakura cleaned this. With a toothbrush. Although improbable, the thought was amusing.
In fact, when did I have so many clothes? Surely my single dresser couldn't hold enough pants and shirts to fill my room waist-deep in them?
When I reached my yami, I took the pants from him, They were slippery and made of that wow-any-tighter-and-I-would-be-nekked leather, and I had to use all of my self-control NOT to picture my yami in them.
And, of course, the unbidden image of my yami in those exact pants rose to flounder in my mind. Suddenly, my nose began bleeding (2). Note to self: excursive self-control.
Luckily Bakura had chosen that moment to dive back into the sea of clothes, and I was able to stem the blood flow with a nearby t-shirt. I sighed and began to rummage through the nearest mountain of fabric, stopping only when I came across something tight in black or white.
After all, you can't match reds.
Soon enough I had gathered a small collection of muscle shirts, tight t-shirts, and those little midriff shirts that Malik wears.
When did I buy these clothes again? All I remember getting were modest, simple clothes, and now it seems as if my wardrobe has been, well, slut-tified.
I began to hum happily and shrugged my shoulders, meanwhile laying the shirts on the bed. If my yami looked like a slut, no objections here. In fact, he never wore baggy sweaters or worn-out jeans in *my* wet daydreams. Nope, fantasy!Bakura always wore skimpy clothes. And trust me, I have quite the imagination.
Suddenly, Bakura popped out next to me near a nest of cargo pants, grinning like a madman (wait, he was) and deposited a pile of pants onto the bed, next to the shirts. I spotted black jeans, another pair of those red pants, and a pair of black shimmery pants that looked curiously like Yami Yugi's.
"So," I began. "What brought on this clothing massacre?" I waved around the room, which somewhat resembled a war ground, with mass causalities of limp cotton, denim, and other fabrics. A pair of silk boxers fell from the ceiling fan. My yami caught them with a deft hand and flung them into the fray, where they were immediately lost among a chaotic pile of sweaters.
Frowning, Bakura held up a black sleeveless cutoff shirt, complete with red netting for sleeves. He gave me The Eye and didn't answer.
The Eye, if you don't know, is an evil stare performed by narrowing the eyes, contracting the eyebrows, and perhaps baring the fangs if necessary. In this case, it wasn't.
"Where in the world did you get these clothes?" He said sinisterly, carefully setting the shirt down upon a pair of his original red leather pants. 'Good combination,' I thought idly. 'But that millennium ring will throw the whole outfit off.'
"T-the mall," I squeaked smoothly. In fact, I had no clue where the clothes came from. Perhaps they were some kind of perverted hybrids that were spawned by the mating of a wayward pair of jeans and a sock, but I somehow doubted that.
Bakura seemed satisfied with my answer, and began to pair up the selected clothes into outfits that promised me many more nosebleeds in the future. Idly I started in too, matching a crimson muscle shirt with black jeans, a tight, ripped black t-shirt with red leather and so on.
We finished in record time. By the time we were done we had about twenty outfits.
I decided just to stop wondering where the clothes had come from. It just wasn't worth it.
"This is great," Bakura whispered, running his fingers over the clothes. "Do you know what this means?"
'That I will have to keep myself on a leash to keep myself from jumping you?' I though cynically, my eyes glued on his fingers. God, even his hands were sexy.
"No, what?" I responded, mentally smacking myself and repeating in my mind 'Self control is good, self control is good...'
My yami gave me a weird look. Oops, I guess I thought out loud.
He looked thoughtful for a moment, before smiling at me. "This means I won't have to steal clothes." I fell over, sweat dropping (3).
Little did I know exactly what those clothes would get *me* into.
__________
1- Naruto. Wah, go buy the manga. NOW! You can also download the anime, and I highly recommend it. Especially episodes 3 and 20 *wink*.
2- Nosebleed= turn on. Also, it's an anime thing ^_^.
3- Sweatdropping and falling over? Anime thing.
AN: Riiiiiiiiiight. The wonderful drink known as 'Crush' induces this story, and I suggest you go and drink some. I have no clue where to go from here, so any suggestions would be peachy keen!
REVIEW??? Oh please oh please oh please?