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Assistant: Title: falling in love is optional (but preferable)
        Author: DisposableVillain DisposableVillain 
        Chapter: 1/7 
        Summary: Malik wasn't avoiding Atem, per se, but he certainly didn't want to be friends after moving back to Domino. So, when Atem texts to meet, Bakura suggests making it as awkward as possible to ensure a very short-lived attempt at friendship. It seems the temples of Bastet have somehow evolved into cute cat cafés.[Goldshipping] [Thiefshipping] [Tendershipping] [mentioned Puzzleshipping][Ethically non-monogamous polycule shenanigans]
        Contents: Chapter 1
    

    


  

  
  
    
    Malik pressed the tip of his acrylic nail into his thumb, fidgeting with it as he stared at his phone. He had been expecting the text.Ryou had given him a heads up before he'd even moved back to Domino that Atem would want to reach out, but even though it had been several weeks since he'd officially moved in with Bakura, Malik had been hoping to have more time. Despite this, he was almost surprised Atem waited so long. 
  Hi, this is Atem. I'm not sure if you had my number. I was wondering if we could meet up and talk? 
Initially, Malik had just ignored the awkward text, but if he didn't reply soon, he would see Atem in public before he had the chance. He didn't want to risk running into Atem on a coffee run and have the former Pharaoh try to have some sort  of magical ‘heal all trauma’ conversation with him when he wasn't prepared for it. Malik felt the back of the couch shift and looked up to see Bakura leaning against it, reading the text over Malik's shoulder. “Do you mind?”“Not at all.” Bakura gently butted Malik's head with his chin.“I swear, I'm going to buy one of those squeaky dog toy steaks to throw across the room when you get into my hair like this.” “If I fetch it for you, do I get a belly rub?” Bakura's nose crinkled as he snickered. “No flirting while I'm trying to text the Pharaoh.” Malik huffed.“If I don't give you a break when you text your sister, why would I be any better for the Pharaoh?”“Because he can, and will, beat you in a duel if you cause trouble.” Malik kissed the air in Bakura's general direction. “Card games are boring.” Bakura waved off Malik's statement. “He can challenge me to a real duel if he wants, but he's paying for the swords.”Malik grunted, acknowledging that he'd heard Bakura, but he was staring at the phone screen again. A few excuses sprung to mind, but better to rip the bandaid off and be done with the mess, yeah? 
  M: Hey, did you have a time or place in mind? 
The reply came almost instantly. 
  A: I'm free tomorrow if that suits. Do you have anywhere you want to go?
“He was definitely waiting for your text.” Bakura snorted, leaning in closer to read the message. “Shut up,” Malik huffed, pushing Bakura's face away. He had been hoping Atem would take a while to reply so Malik would have a reasonable excuse for not having seen the text for a while. Now, he had a limited amount of time to respond, even with read receipts off. He barely stopped himself biting the tip of his nail. Bakura frowned. “Malik, are you actually worried about this?”“No.” Malik began typing, and then almost immediately deleted his text.“Holy sh@t, you are.” Bakura hopped over the back of the couch to sit next to Malik. Malik tried to ignore him by staring at the screen, but Bakura lay so his head was in Malik's lap. Malik set his phone aside.“Comfy down there?”“Very.” Bakura winked, but his expression quickly softened. “You know you don't need to go if you're not ready.”“I know. It just seems stupid to push it out.” Malik ran his fingers through Bakura's hair, gently combing it. “Domino’s a small city. We'll see each other at one of Ryou's gaming nights sometime anyway.”“And? Just crack a pun to break the ice. Our entire relationship is built on puns.” Bakura tilted his head into Malik's touch. “Of course it is.” Malik rolled his eyes but idly scratched Bakura's scalp as he looked at his phone again. “Mm, you know what you should do?”Malik paused and looked down at Bakura, who made a noise of disapproval when his little head massage stopped.“What?”Bakura grinned and pushed himself up, sitting cross-legged beside Malik. “Find a way to make him as uncomfortable as you are.”“Because misery loves company?” Malik raised an eyebrow, knowing better than to take Bakura's advice of  how to deal with the Pharaoh seriously. But  …he didn't want to put on such a polite act that Atem wanted to hang out more than necessary, so maybe there  was some benefit to the suggestion. Malik pursed his lips. “On second thought, you're right. I want to make this so awkward that he doesn't even want to make eye contact the first time we're at a game night together.”“Nobody actually makes eye contact if they're not trying to f@ck or murder each other.” Bakura snorted an, unironic, laugh. “Yes, they do. You're the one with the aversion,” Malik argued. “No, I'm standing my ground on this one. Eye contact is vulgar.” “Quit arguing and help me scheme.” Malik bopped Bakura's nose. “A candlelit dinner for two and a moonlit gondola ride.” “What the f@ck, Bakura?”“That's the most awkward thing I can think of doing with the Pharaoh.” Bakura shrugged. “I need a real idea.” Malik rubbed his face. “Preferably one that doesn't involve me in close, isolated quarters with a man I tried to kill multiple times.”“What about the cat cafe? Kill him with kawaiiness or something like that.” “Huh…maybe.” Malik mulled the idea over. He chewed his tongue, a slow grin spreading across his face as a plan began to form. Finally, he managed to hit send. 
  M: I'd love to show you a local temple. It's small but I can send you the address.
“Temple?” Bakura’s eyebrows arched and he poked Malik's arm with his toe. “Do I get to know what's happening?”“Nope.” Malik grabbed the remote, setting his phone aside as Atem confirmed. “Do you want to watch something?”Bakura's jaw dropped. “Why not?”“Because you're being a brat.” Malik booped Bakura's nose, making it scrunch. “Brats don't get to hear evil plans.”“You know, I was literally the King of Thieves,” Bakura grumbled, rubbing his nose.“You were!” Malik gasped overdramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Imagine if your enemies knew you were so easy to foil.”“Whatever. I'm old, retired, and don't have the energy to argue.” Bakura now flopped his legs on top of Malik's lap. “Do you ever sit still for five minutes?” Malik found something he wanted to watch since Bakura hadn't answered his question. “Grab a stopwatch and find out.” Bakura wiggled as if to get comfortable, but the grin on his face made it clear that he was being a pest on purpose. “You better behave.” Malik tickled the pad of Bakura's foot.“Don't you dare.” Bakura lifted his foot out of reach. “That's how I kicked the lamp off the end table last time, remember? And who was p@ss@d that the room went dark? Not me.” “Then stop squirming.” “Can't help it. My ka was half snake.” “Then maybe I should put your retired energy to good use.” Malik sprang on top of him and stole a deep kiss. Bakura happily wound his arms around Malik, need for attention apparently sated, if temporarily. The phone and remote thudded together on the carpet beside the couch, but now that the Atem matter had been settled, Malik felt a lot better. He ignored both cell and television in favor of entertaining himself with Bakura instead.Malik stood in front of the full-length mirror in his room. Shifting his weight from side to side, he tested the way the new skirt swished around his thighs before committing to wearing it to the meet-up. It was a thigh-length black number that poofed out when he twirled with a corset-style waist and a white lace trim. He still had an hour before he had to meet Atem, but he wanted to have time to change his mind on wardrobe without making himself late. Deciding that the skirt was a good purchase, Malik moved over to the bedside vanity to put on his kohl and jewelry. Halfway through getting ready, Malik got distracted on his phone, and when he glanced at the time in the corner of the screen, he realized he was going to be late if he didn't hurry. “Dammit,” Malik swore under his breath. He did this more than he cared to admit. He glanced into the mirror. Time blindness aside, he looked fine. He may have gone a bit overboard with the black and gold smokey-eye, and perhaps the purple lip was a bit much but it matched his lantern-sleeved turtleneck so well. Besides, in the absence of a mind-controlling object created from the souls of his boyfriend's village, makeup and fashion had become Malik's armour. Malik grabbed his keys, careful not to mess up his hair with his helmet as he put it on. After ignoring a few traffic laws to make it to the meeting point on time, he took the helmet off just as carefully. He'd spent an hour straightening it, and didn't want a helmet to be the reason he left Atem anything less than breathless at the sight of Malik.Yes, that was why he was doing this. To leave the Pharaoh awestruck. To show him just how good Malik had it now. To intimidate Atem with his success and happiness. Malik was the first one there, so he stood at the door to the cafe to wait and pulled a pocket mirror out of his skirt to check his makeup. Cute and functional. Malik quickly wiped away a smudge of lipstick from the edge of his mouth when he heard a quiet cough.“Malik?”Malik lowered the pocket mirror. Atem stood in front of Malik, bathed in sunlight. His dreadlocks draped over his shoulders, leading the eye very naturally to his tastefully-unbuttoned shirt. He was still binding the last time Malik saw him, shortly after the ritual to bring him and Bakura back, and he never would have worn something so revealing before his surgery. The buttons left open showed off just a peek of the scars. His new chest suited him—  Malik forced himself to look away. The  confidence  the surgery had given Atem suited him, in the same way that the shirt he was wearing somehow managed to both look like a 90s arcade floor and still look stylish on him. It wasn't exactly temple appropriate, so maybe Atem had partially seen through Malik's plan, but the surprise should still catch him unawares. “Hi,” Malik forced out. “It's…good to see you.”“It's good to see you too. You look well.” Atem's smile was sincere and warm, a little too disarming for Malik's tastes.“Thanks. You too.” “This is the right address? There doesn't seem to be a temple anywhere near here.” Atem looked up at the building behind Malik. The building had a cute pink front with pastel wall art, but had overhead windows instead of ones along the wall, so it was generally unassuming. “I assure you.” A calculated grin spread across Malik's face. “There's a local temple honouring Bastet here. It's just a little… subtle outside.”“I guess that explains the mural.” Atem nodded to the wall art, where a calico tabby and a British short-hair kitten were painted batting at a butterfly. “All right, then lead the way.” With a slight pivot and a swish of his skirt, Malik walked to the double wooden door. He smiled and held one of the doors open for Atem. Unsuspecting, Atem walked through the threshold. “Ohayo gozaimasu!”As soon as he stepped inside, four girls in maid outfits greeted them in loud, cheery voices with their hands curled around their faces like cute little paws. They wore neko ears and long mechanical tails that swished from side to side, and cheered when Malik and Atem walked fully inside. Atem slow-blinked before—with a calm, stoic voice—saying, “Ah yes, this is exactly how I remember these temples from my childhood.” Malik glanced at him, surprised by the calm response. He thought Atem would get at least a  little  flustered. Atem returned the glance, the slightest hint of a smirk broke through his calm facade. “The Priestess attire has barely changed.”Leave it to a master duelist to keep his cool no matter the circumstances. Malik would need to try a little harder, he supposed. Still, he rewarded Atem's wit with the barest grin. One of the maids broke off from the group, introduced herself as their waitress, and led them to their table. They each ordered coffee as they glanced at the menu. Atem's earlier confidence still radiated around him. He looked like he was having fun despite what should have been an awkward situation. “So, how are your siblings?” Atem began, trying to break the ice.Malik’s practiced smile slipped onto his face so smoothly, it almost felt natural. “They’re well. Isis is working with the Egyptian government on getting some overseas artifacts back into the country, and Rishid started a cooking class.” “I saw online,” Atem said. “I followed the page he set up. It looks really good.”“He’s enjoying it.” Malik nodded, pressing his thumb into the point of one of his nails.A pause stretched between them as a new group entered the cafe to a chorus of the same welcome cheer before they were seated. Malik cleared his throat. “How about you? What have you been up to?”Atem hesitated. “Um, a lot of dueling. Even in the off-season. Kaiba is always trying to set up another duel or tournament, and it turns out being Pharaoh for a few months as a teenager isn’t exactly a marketable skill.”Malik tried to hide his laugh. “Heh, freaking Kaiba. That man literally proved it was possible to get to the afterlife and back just to duel you. I don’t know what else you expected.”It was partially true. While Malik had been researching ways to bring Bakura back at the time, he had hit a wall. Kaiba’s ascent to Aaru—and his return, cursing Atem and Kuriboh alike—had proven it was at least plausible. Finally, after some considerable negotiations and ‘gifts’, Kaiba had given Malik, Ryou, and Yugi his research. Malik had attempted it alone, and then just with Ryou, but to deal with Kaiba, it seemed they needed Yugi’s Nat 20 charisma rolls. “That’s a very good point,” Atem agreed, “and someone should  definitely  have pointed that out before I was revived.”“How would that have looked?” Malik snorted. “You see Yugi’s hand reaching for you through a mystical portal, and hear him say, ‘Wait, Atem! Before you come back, Kaiba has a bi-weekly dueling schedule you have to commit to’?”Atem chuckled, but his gaze softened. “It was nothing like that. I was just… walking, along the river in the afternoon. I remember stopping for a drink and I blinked and… then I was waking up in Yugi’s living room. Everything suddenly felt so real, in a way it hadn’t since Egypt.” Atem shook his head and grinned at Malik. “But a telepathic reminder about Kaiba’s neuroticism would have been nice.”“Maybe next time.” Malik waved his hand.“Next time? Are you and Bakura planning to kill me again?” Malik shot him a pointed glance, analyzing a moment before deciding Atem was trying to make a (tasteless) joke. “You and Bakura really have the same sense of humor, do you know that?” Atem offered a helpless shrug. A waitress brought their coffee, smiling extra wide at them. Malik mirrored the gesture back at her, and she blushed before rushing off to help with another order. A little tension seeped from Malik's shoulders after the brief encounter was over. He had always excelled at mimicry, sometimes to a fault, as proven by the multiple phone numbers he somehow managed to collect on dates. Men, women, others - their focus was less on Malik as a person and more on him as an object, which  was, unfortunately, a massive f@ck@ng trigger.“Malik…” Atem's expression was unusually masked.“Yes?” Malik's hackles raised again, unwilling to let Atem see his mask slip.“Are you okay?” Atem's features broke into a soft, genuine concern. “I'm amazing.” Malik said without a second’s hesitation. “And, gods, I’m so busy I can hardly get five minutes to do stuff like this.” Whipping out his cellphone, Malik brought up his photo folder of him in all his custom outfits. He passed over the phone, acrylic flashing at the tips of his fingers as he made a permissive gesture. “Go ahead and swipe through those all you want. It’s fine. I’ve been designing my own clothes. A few of my dresses are going to be auctioned off at the charity gala Kaiba and my sister are hosting in a few weeks from today. I’ve gotten really skilled at seam work, so I’ve been dabbling in various forms of embroidery as well. Also, I run my own makeup team. Smell.” Malik thrust his wrist beneath Atem’s nose. “That’s lovely,” Atem acknowledged. “The top notes are peach, ginger, and clove, with a vanilla and bourbon midnote, and just a  hint of anise beneath it all. I wanted something spiced and alluring, but also more…” Malik fished for the right description. “Bright,” Atem said. “Exactly.” Malik withdrew his arm, almost sheepish at how quickly Atem had found a way to express what Malik had been thinking. He  had  wanted something bright to be his signature scent. Peaches were sweet, and reminiscent of summer and heat and sunlight, and he craved all those things. Malik grew thoughtful as Atem poured through the pictures, eyes darting as he studied each one before moving on to the next. The manic urge to prove his stability slowly seeped away as Atem looked up at him. “I feel like anything I say about these would sound like flattery, but they’re truly amazing. Your sense of color, how you embellish with sequins and rhinestones, but never enough for the gowns to be gauche, only enough to highlight the beauty of your line work.” “You think so?” Half a real smile escaped Malik’s lips. “I’ve been to royal feasts where literal queens were not dressed half as splendidly.”Malik bit his lower lip. He  did  like praise, after all. Who didn’t? And he  was  exceptional at fashion. He was proud of his work. So many traditional looks loved showing off the wearer's back, so Malik realized he’d have to learn to use a sewing machine if he ever wanted to feel comfortable—to have the combined joy of the loose, flowing, delight of skirts without the intrusive questions of  did that hurt when people saw his scars and assumed he did it for aesthetics. When it came to clothing, Malik deserved all the praise that he received. A waitress set two omelets on top of the table.“Omurice,  nyeh!”'
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