So, an idea came to me when I got home from work one night and my feet hurt from standing all day. I was laying on the couch wishing a friend of mine was there to rub my feet, and I suddenly wanted to write a Thiefshipping fanfic with Bakura rubbing Marik's feet. Well… it kind of escalated... Hehe~ Enjoy!

Marik shoved the key into the door and twisted it. The lock snapped back, and the door popped open. He stepped into the apartment he shared with his boyfriend, Bakura. From what he could see, the only lights lit were in the bedroom. Bakura must have been waiting up for him despite Marik insisting him not to. He dropped the key into the bowl that sat on a stool by the door before trudging towards the bedroom.

He pushed open the bedroom door carefully. He didn't want to wake Bakura if the man was asleep. "I know you're there, Marik," Bakura said as if reading Marik's mind. His gruff voice never ceased to put Marik's mind at ease if only a little. He walked into the room to see that Bakura was relaxing on the bed. His dark eyes narrowed slightly at Marik's fatigued look. "Rough day?" He chuckled.

"You wouldn't fuckin' believe it," Marik growled out in irritation. He didn't bother taking off the suit he was wearing before collapsing into bed. He heard Bakura laugh at him, and Marik told him to shut up.

"Get out of that stupid suit, and you'll feel better." Marik didn't say anything. His eyes were beginning to close. All he wanted to do was sleep for a couple years, but he knew Bakura wouldn't let him. "I'll do it myself," he warned, and Marik grunted.

"I'll kick your face," was all Marik said. Bakura chuckled and scooted to the foot of the bed. He reached out and began taking off the finely polished dress shoes Marik was wearing despite the threat.

"You wouldn't do that," Bakura teased. Marik grunted again, but Bakura was right. He was far too tired to put with Bakura's bullshit right now.

"Whatever," Marik growled as he buried his face into the linen sheets. He couldn't care less what Bakura did with him right then. Sleep called. He felt his shoes come off and then his socks. He felt the bed lighten suddenly as if Bakura had gotten up. Although he trusted Bakura, he was still weary when Bakura stayed up after he did. He wanted to be able to go to work tomorrow, and Bakura was crazier than Melvin sometimes. A pair of strong arms wrapped around Marik, and he was lifted from the bed. "Wha' are you doin'?" Marik asked. His head fell against Bakura's shoulder as he was now carried bridal style over to their shared bathroom.

"You're all sweaty, and I don't want to clean the sheets again," Bakura replied gruffly as if irritated. Marik groaned loudly.

"I want to sleep dammit!" He exclaimed, now more awake than he was a second ago. He crossed his arms and pouted as he was carried and unceremoniously dumped into the bathtub. "You're really going to make me do this?" Marik growled and glared at the white haired man.

"Yes," he replied and reached to turn on the water. "You better undress if you don't want that suit ruined."

Marik sighed. "I hate you sometimes," he grumbled. He stood and stripped from the sticky suit. He threw it out into the bedroom before collapsing into the tub that was now full of steaming water. He let out a groan and rested his head on the rim of the tub. "Damn you, Bakura."

"What did I do?" He had pulled up a chair and was sitting, watching Marik intently. The blonde Egyptian currently had his mouth slightly open with his eyes closed in bliss. He didn't answer Bakura's question. An idea suddenly popped into Bakura's mind. He took off the robe he was wearing, hung it up behind the door, and ordered Marik to move forward.

Marik did so reluctantly, wondering what Bakura was up to. The water level rose an inch as Bakura slid into the tub behind Marik. He pulled the blonde flush against him and chuckled when a blush spread across Marik's face. Marik still didn't say anything as he relaxed against his lover. The warm water enveloped them both in a heated, comfortable blanket.

They both sat there for a while. Bakura had his head buried in Marik's hair, and Marik simply rested against Bakura's broad chest. He sighed in contentment many times before Bakura grumbled something. "What did you say?" Marik asked, curious as to what his boyfriend was trying to say.

"Your hair smells weird," Bakura grumbled a little louder than before.

"That's probably because I haven't washed it in a few days."

"I like it."

Marik chuckled softly. A small smile adorned his lips. "You're weird, Bakura."

Bakura's arms wrapped tighter around Marik's frame, effectively pulling him closer. "But you love me." It wasn't a question but a statement. It made Marik happy that Bakura knew that, but he wanted to answer anyway.

"Of course, I love you."

Bakura hummed in approval as he inhaled whatever scent he was smelling on Marik's hair. "I love you too."