Leo: It's a little mini-fic, but it was a fun idea that was brought up during one of my long running interactive fics: "Mail from the Fans" and I thought that, you know, I think that would be a funny little piece all on it's own. That and I haven't written for Yuugioh in a long time. So here we go! Let's all watch Bakura pretend to know anything about Fashion! Since this is a short stupid fic, I don't feel bad about posting it without having finished other stories!

Mission: Pimp my Hikari

Part 1 – The Subject

Ryou was sitting on the sofa. It was a calm Saturday afternoon. School had released not that long ago and now he was on a short vacation. He was thankful for the break after the last two weeks of long term papers and exams. Teachers could wear out anyone; and if that wasn't bad enough, Bakura was being a natural pain in whatever ass he could find that was soft enough and easiest to target. Gluing Yugi to a telephone pole on a movie outing was a perfect example. Naturally he had to beg Yami to allow Bakura back into the normal world, after the pharaoh had sent him off to his second home in the shadow realm, where he was likely to have gotten a welcoming home party from his monsters.

Satellite sucked. Ryou grimaced as he watched overweight celebrities try to compete to lose weight. 'And they call this reality', Ryou thought flipping another channel. If VH1 wouldn't give him anything he knew MTV was a bad choice. After all, everyone knows that MTV doesn't have music on it anymore. Just as he changed the channel to the VH1 Classic channel, he heard the door slam and three voices echoing through the doorway at the front door. He distinctively heard Bakura's and Marik's voices, left only to assume that the final one was Malik.

Ryou sighed. He was hoping they would trot up stairs and do what they normally did: get on his computer and harass poor emos on myspace. But instead Bakura leapt over the back of the sofa and slid into the empty spot next to his hikari and swiftly took the remote.

"Hikari, what are you watching? Now I would have respected you if it was like Phil Collins or something, but U2? Oh come on, Bono is such a douche."

"How charming, yami." Ryou sighed and continued doodling on the empty sheet of paper on his clipboard that he'd set beside him, while he was searching for appropriate music.

"Hey it could be worse." Malik added leaning against the back of the chair; modestly amused at Marik, who was already in the kitchen and doing a treasure search in the refrigerator.

"How so?" Bakura flipped channels. "Hey they're doing a documentary on Nsync on E TV."

"Well for starters, it could be Nsync."

"Hey, don't sass me, I wasn't going to watch it. Nsync is better than the alternative though."

"Which is?" Ryou asked, giving up on getting out of the conversation.

"It could be MCR."

"You know, if you said that in public the fans would have your heart ripped out, a hot iron rod shoved up your ass, your eye balls forked out with sporks, your fingernails forcibly ripped off with rusty pliers, then you would be ritualistically flogged to death with a two by four adorned in seven rusty nails, one representing each stage of hell." Marik said casually walking back into the living room with a Sprite and a handful of cookies.

"I'll take being drawn and quartered, thank you very much." Bakura snorted. "So hikari how was your day?" Bakura turned to Ryou.

Ryou eyed him with suspicion, "What are you planning?"

Bakura feigned a shocked and hurt expression, "What do you mean? I would never do anything that might be considered plotting, conniving, secretive or heinous!"

"You should be thankful god doesn't actually strike people down for lying."

"Okay, well, I got this idea. You see, ever since I've met you, Ryou, you've always struck me as the sort of person who has no ability to see just how dorky you look in the clothes you choose to wear. For instance, that sweater during Duelist Kingdom, and then that tacky striped shirt—which I've burned and released into the ocean in case you were wondering—at Battle City. So I was talking to Marik and Malik here and we've decided to begin Mission: Ryou!"

"Which is?" Ryou gulped, not liking where this was going.

"Well it better translates into; Mission: Pimp My Hikari."

Bakura stood up and circled around Ryou and stopped once he was near the armrest of Ryou's side. He kneeled to eye level and gave him a look that translated into: 'please, hikari? I'll love you forever if you go along with us, and if you don't I promise I'll chew up all the upholstery in this house'. Ryou sighed. There was no getting out of it when Bakura gave that look, because sure as the sky was blue, Bakura would eat up the upholstery. In fact, he'd done it before. He bitched about it the whole time, but he did it nonetheless.

"Fine Bakura. I'll do whatever it is you want me to do. First you have to explain to me what 'Pimp my hikari means'."

"Okay! Well you see. We're going to forcibly drag you into a clothing store that doesn't have clothes that your grandparent would think is stylish. Malik has better fashion knowledge than Marik and I do. Since Marik is just a dumb ass and I'm over three thousand years old and legitimately fashion dumb."

"If you're fashion dumb, then why are you making me do this?" Ryou crossed his arms. He wasn't getting up just yet. He was hoping their attentions spans were as long as their brainwaves.

"Because, despite being fashion illiterate, I've managed to dress myself in a style that won't get my ass kicked just for living."

Marik whistled, "Man, if Bakura can accomplish that and you can't, then you must have some horrible taste there, Ryou."

"Oh, like you are one to talk!" Ryou poked the slightly frightening looking individual in the exposed abdomen. Marik wasn't scary as a person. It was really just his hair that terrified Ryou. In fact the boy could vividly remember having nightmares about it many times after battle city. Hell, for what it was worth he could remember times where he'd overheard Bakura mumbling about the terrifying 'monster' which turned out to be Marik's hair in duel monster form.

"Come on Ryou. The day is young and I stole Seto's checkbook so we've got a lot to do before the day is done!" Bakura said with about as much enthusiasm as a person like him can muster.

"Wait, you stole Seto's checkbook?!" Ryou yelped in protest against Bakura. The silver haired thief pulled Ryou by the arm and toward the door, with help from Marik.

"Well technically he knew about it." Malik added with a cheerful smile that worried Ryou.

"What does that mean?"

"Oh, well I told him I was stealing it." Bakura replied, opening the front door and coaxing Ryou out, while at the same time preparing to lock the door.

"And he let you?"

"Kaiba said: 'okay, but you owe me Bakura, and be sure to forge the signature correctly this time'. I'm still not sure what he means by Bakura owing him though." Marik shrugged. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him in the long run.

"Ah, it's probably no big deal. Nothing a sexual favor or two wouldn't take care of," Bakura waved it off. He turned toward the three waiting for him to descend the steps in front of the door after locking up. They stared at him with horrified looks. "Oh damn guys, I'm kidding. Of course…if he's willing to give me access to his bank accounts for a blow job…"

"No! Just no!" Marik covered his ears.

"Pansy." Bakura snorted, grabbing the scarier yami's shirt and dragging him along with them toward the Plaza. They were lucky to live close to a Plaza. It was a great shopping district and not too expensive either, but now they didn't need to worry about that. They had money to work with thanks to the ever so willing donation of Mr. Kaiba. Mission: Pimp My Hikari was under way!

To be Continued...