"Dear love, for nothing less than thee
Would I have broke this happy dream;
It was a theme
For reason, much too strong for fantasy.
Therefore thou waked'st me wisely; yet
My dream thou brokest not, but continued'st it.
Thou art so true that thoughts of thee suffice
To make dreams truths, and fables histories;
Enter these arms, for since thou thought'st it best,
Not to dream all my dream, let's act the rest."
~ Excerpt from John Donne's 'The Dream'~

***Leave it to me to write fluff where the characters are naked just about the entire time. Yeah, you're welcome.***

A reoccurring nightmare, a memory, Ryo riding in a car with his mother and sister. Amane sat in the backseat behind their mother; Ryo sat in the front passenger's seat. He watched the rain pelt the window, brilliant white splats lit up by streetlights. Ryo's head swung left to right in rhythm with the windshield wipers. Ryo smiled and hummed, they were going home from the grocery store and after dinner, he and Amane would get to split a box of pocky before they had to take their baths and get ready for bed.

A squealing noise, a loud crash, and then the world spun out of control. When it stopped Ryo lay sideways, fastened in place by his seat belt. Ryo couldn't scream; he stared forward with unblinking eyes trying to process the chaos of the last thirty seconds. Something warm dripped into his hair. Ryo forced himself to turn his head up, the drivers side of the car was crumpled. His mother hung above him, also held in place by her seat belt. Her arm hung down, pointing towards Ryo as if to accuse him of something. Blood dripped from her unmoving fingertips. Ryo opened his mouth to scream, but only a soft, wheezing noise came out.

In the distance sirens wailed. Ryo sat in the dark car, the streetlights now out of view. He tried to undo his seat-belt, but it was jammed. He tried to call out to his sister, but only sputtered for air. More than anything he wanted the warm tickle from above to stop dripping into his hair. As the sirens approached Ryo finally found his voice. Tears ran down his face as a soft, consistent wail poured out of Ryo's mouth, like another small siren.

Ryo jerked awake and then dropped back down onto his pillows. He didn't often remember the accident, but each time he did was the same as re-living it. He bit the side of his hand to keep his sobbing quiet. It didn't work; he felt a warm, solid arm slip around his chest and give Ryo a small squeeze.

"Another nightmare, Bakura?" Marik asked, eyes still closed in sleep. A lamp sat on the nightstand beside him, and it's light lit up Marik's hair, giving him a dangerously angelic appearance.

The comfort of another body, of a reassuring arm, felt wonderful. Only, it wasn't for Ryo and he knew it, so as soon as he could stabilize himself enough to speak, Ryo lifted Marik's arm off of his chest and muttered, "wrong one," as an apology before slipping out of bed.

Marik's lilac eyes half opened, first confused and then started as he realized it was Ryo leaving the bed. Ryo simply walked away. The situation was already awkward and he didn't want to make it worse by trying to engage in conversation. Ryo took a hot shower to calm his mind and give him an excuse to not be in bed. Afterward, he put on a robe and sat in his favorite chair in the living room while nursing a cup of tea. His eyes burned with fatigue, but Ryo didn't want to go back to sleep. The pain from his dream still clawed at the back of his thoughts, and Marik sleeping in his bed was too much for him to handle at the moment.

When the consciousness in the Ring stirred, Ryo sighed with relief. They rarely spoke, but as soon as he knew the Spirit would hear him Ryo near begged, please take over.

No sooner did he think the words, did he feel himself sink into his own subconsciousness and into his soul room. As they switched, there was an odd moment where they hovered together in their mind and he felt the Spirit land an understanding hand on Ryo's should for an instant before they separated again. They'd both seen each other's dreams, both understood – too well – the pain that haunted one's sleep from the memories of losing family.

It's why Ryo didn't struggle these days to keep control of his body, and why he didn't mind the Spirit using his body to be with Marik. Ryo remembered the comfort of Marik's arm and the concern in his voice, the warm strength of another soothing away a bad dream. He couldn't deny the Spirit that ameliorating power after he saw the dreams of fire and gold, even if it meant donating his own flesh. Ryo slept in his soul room, thankful that he didn't have anymore dreams.

The next night, it was Marik who moaned and cried. He thrashed hard and knocked the lamp off of the nightstand. The room snapped into darkness he gave such a savage wail that Ryo jumped up and scooped the other man into his arms on instinct. He tried to wake the Spirit even as he cooed in Marik's ear. Ryo blinked, trying to see in the dark. Marik seemed heavier and felt as if his muscles bulged thicker than normal. By the time Ryo's eyes adjusted to the dim light and saw the high, spiked hair, it was too late. Ryo froze as his eyes locked with Marik's alter ego's gaze. He knew the danger, but Ryo always had empathy for this other side of Marik.

Yugi was different, he lived in symbiosis with the other mind sharing his body, but Ryo and Marik's alter ego struggled with their other halves and always ended up with unequal portions of time in their own bodies. All the raw emotion from the previous night's memory still lingered in Ryo's mind, so he felt even closer to Marik's other side at that moment than he usually did because he knew what it was like to wake from a nightmare, alone. So instead of letting go, or trying harder to wake the Spirit, Ryo slid his fingers into the golden spikes of hair and whispered. "I've got you. It's okay now. Go back to sleep."

It's what Ryo wanted, more than anything he wanted someone to hold him after a nightmare. Him, not the Spirit who stole his name, but him. Because that's what he wanted, that's what he tried to give Marik's Shadow. He kept petting the crazy hair and slipped his opposite hand to the Other Marik's back and traced along the curve of his spine.

The darker aspect of Marik sucked in a sharp breath as Ryo touched his back and traced his fingers up and down the other Marik's spine. He grabbed Ryo's shoulders tight to separate them and stared at him. Their faces hovered a few inches apart.

Ryo blinked for a moment. He kept thinking stupid, stupid things, like how nice it'd be if the other Marik would bend forward and kissed him. He tried shoving the thought out of his mind, blaming Pavlov – Marik and the Spirit fooled around too much, and now that Ryo sat in bed next to the same body, both of them naked, his body was reacting in the appropriate way. "Please," Ryo whispered.

The other Marik spoke over his words. "Don't beg for your life—"

"—I only wanted to hold you."

Marik's alter ego blinked, confused by Ryo's statement. His mouth hung ajar, making him look ridiculous and adorable instead of dangerous.

Ryo reached out again and caressed his thumb against the darker Marik's cheek. "Last night I dreamt I was trapped and it was dark and I was covered in blood – you had a dream like that tonight, didn't you? It makes my heart hurt, to think of someone experiencing that pain alone, even though we had different circumstances. I just wanted to hold you until you fell back to sleep. I . . . just wanted to comfort you."

He scowled at Ryo. "Why aren't you afraid?"

Ryo's mouth lifted into a half smile. "I guess I'm too empathetic to be afraid."

"Our dreams were not similar."

"I bet our sorrow is the same. It hurts in the pit of your chest, doesn't it?"

He statement knocked the Other Marik off balance. He let go of Ryo, and as soon as he did, Ryo leaned over to his own night stand and turned on the other lamp. Once light returned to the room, Ryo grabbed the Other Marik in another tight embrace. "You can sleep better with the light, right?"

The Marik's alter ego trembled slightly in Ryo's arms. He averted his eyes, but nodded.

Ryo buried his head in Marik's alter ego's thicker chest and sighed. "You smell like cardamon, it's really nice."

A growl escaped the Other Marik's throat. "I'd kill you, but I'm too tired to bother." He lay down and allowed Ryo to adjust himself so he could sleep while knotting himself around Marik's alter ego. The Other Marik radiated heat and Ryo pressed himself into the warmth, nuzzling his nose in the other man's broad chest and reading the scars on his back with his fingers like braille. "Does it bother you when I touch your back? I can stop."

Marik snorted. "It's soothing. If you stop I may wake up enough to murder you."

Ryo laughed, pulling them closer and slowing down his fingers against the other Marik's skin. "I don't believe you. I think if you were going to kill me – I'd already be dead."

"Well, you could always let go and find out."

"No," Ryo whispered. "I don't want to let go. You're warm, and I like holding you."

"Then you'll have to take my word as it is." Marik's other half arched his back into Ryo's touch and sighed with content as they both drifted to sleep in each other's arms.

The next morning, Ryo continued to hold the body next to him. He knew it was probably Marik at that point, but Ryo kept his eyes closed and clung to the illusion that it was still Marik's alter ego. He didn't want to let go quite yet; he enjoyed the feeling of holding someone too much to let go. Ryo felt the Spirit's consciousness waking and taking over the body, but Ryo's mind lingered instead of retreating back to his soul room.

He heard Marik suck in a ragged breath. "B-bakura, you're touching . . ." the sentence died.

Ryo felt bad. The night before, Marik's alter ego acted pleased to have his back caressed, but he forgot that Marik felt more sensitive to the wounds and the Spirit never touched them. The Spirit blinked their eyes open and moved to pull away, confused as to why he was even cuddling with Marik.

"Wait," Marik said before the Spirit could pull away.

The Spirit froze, staring at Marik without speaking.

A color like rose quartz littered the desert landscape of Marik's continence. "You can. If you want."

The Spirit paused before asking, "you sure?"

"Bakura, touch me."

The Spirit licked his lips and danced his fingers against Marik's skin. A moment latter he kissed Marik's throat, one kiss after another, his hands still caressing Marik's scars.

Ryo couldn't literally blush with the Spirit in control, but he felt like he blushed. He also smiled, feeling the flutter in their chest caused by the Spirit caressing Marik's back. Ryo retreated to his subconsciousness to give them privacy. In his soul room, Ryo lay on his bed and held a pillow against his chest, wishing it were Marik's alter ego, wishing they could kiss like their other halves did.

He didn't see Marik's alter ego again after that, but Ryo couldn't stop daydreaming about him. He'd slept too well that night, holding him, and he regretted not being able to repeat the experience.

Stop sighing like a love-sick puppy, you idiot. I still need your body for my plans and refuse to die because you want to hold hands with a psychopath.

Ryo raised an eyebrow. He's really no more dangerous than you or Marik.

Don't bet our lives on that.

Ryo only smiled at his Other Half's lecture. The fact that he managed to vex the Spirit was one of the charms about the other Marik. Furthermore, giving him a forbidden edge only made it harder for Ryo to stop thinking about him. Perhaps that's why after falling asleep in his soul room, Ryo found himself dreaming about the other Marik.

Ryo stood in a field, a bright golden field of ripe wheat. He reached out and touched the spiky tips of the mature stalk. It reminded him of the other Marik's hair and Ryo sighed with longing. The sunlight felt warm against Ryo's skin and the wind carried the sent of cardamon. Ryo closed his eyes and inhaled the spicy, exotic scent, trying to remember every detail about they night they spent together. Ryo felt a heavy touch slid across his shoulders. Spinning around, Ryo stopped when he saw the other Marik facing him.

Ryo smiled, white hair tickling his face in the breeze. "I've missed you."

He flashed Ryo a wicked grin. "Prove it."

Ryo grabbed the Other Marik's hair and pulled him down into a kiss. The other Marik clawed into Ryo's shirt and kissed down Ryo's throat, nipping where neck meets collarbone. Ryo moaned feeling his skin burning from the Other Marik's touch.

Then the touch turned rough, he dug his fingers into Ryo's hair, but ran them through too hard, tangling and pulling at the strands.

Ryo winced at the sensation of fingers tangling into his hair and pulling back. Ryo blinked his eyes opened and started. "Marik?"

"Yeah, it's me."

It wasn't Marik, it was his alter ego. Ryo smiled, holding the Darker Marik's hand to show affection while stopping the tugging on his hair. Ryo almost leaned over and kissed the Other Marik's wrist before remembering that he was awake now and couldn't do anything he liked.

"You were having another bad dream."

"A bad dream?" Ryo asked, still disoriented. He realized that the Other Marik had been trying to comfort him. That's why The Other Marik ran his fingers through Ryo's hair, but he'd never done anything gentle before so the action had felt aggressive. Ryo's heart exploded in his chest; the simple fact that he tried to comfort Ryo made Ryo's thoughts fuzzy with joy. Ryo reached up and brushed his back fingers against the Other Marik's cheek. "Thank you. Thank you . . . no one's ever . . ." Ryo felt himself blushing as another thought entered his mind. "Um, but it wasn't a bad dream."

"But you were moaning like you were in pain."

"I-I was?" Ryo hid his face with his hands, too embarrassed to look the other Marik in the eye.

He heard thunderous laughter above him. Ryo peeked through the slots of his fingers to watch Marik's alter ego hold his stomach while laughing. He looked down at Ryo's exposed eye and grinned. "Were you having a sex dream?"

"No!" Ryo removed his hands from his face to hold them out in a shielding gesture. "It wasn't a sex dream, I swear. We both had all our clothes on – oh damn it." Ryo winced, realizing he said we.

The other Marik's laughter calmed to a chuckle. "I think it's funny that you'd dream of me."

"Why?"

"To most people, I'm a nightmare instead of a dream." The other Marik leaned closer, grin stretching so wide across his face that it looked like invisible hooks pulled his lips away from his teeth. "So . . . if not sex, what we we doing in your dream, Ryo?"

Ryo blinked so fast it looked like he was batting his eyes. Anyone else would have peed their pants from fear but Ryo never felt safer. "My name sounds so much better when you say it," he whispered without thinking.

"Don't avoid the question."

Ryo sighed. "Kissing. Just kissing."

The other Marik arched one of his golden eye brows. "Kissing? Kissing me made you moan that loud?"

Ryo turned away, but the Other Marik caught Ryo's chin and pulled their faces closer. "Is kissing really that good?"

Ryo shrugged against the mattress. "I don't know. I've never been kissed before."

"Neither have I." The Other Marik leaned a little closer, about an inch away.

Ryo licked his lips and swallowed. He swallowed again but his mouth kept watering at the thought of his dream continuing in reality. His eyes half closed as he stared up at Marik's Other Half.

"You're trembling," he said.

"I'm waiting."

The Other Marik smirked. "What if I decide to bite you instead?"

Ryo brushed the tip of his nose against Marik's alter ego's cheek to show that he wasn't afraid. "You did nibble a bit in my dream." Ryo thought for a moment and then added. "Just don't draw blood."

"No promises," The Other Marik chuckled, though his voice was soft and playful.

Ryo still graced the tip of his nose against the Other Marik's cheek. Marik's Shadow turned so that both their noses brushed together, once, twice, and on the third time the darker aspect of Marik sunk down until his and Ryo's lips pressed together.

Ryo expected the kiss to be awkward, like the other Marik's attempt to comb Ryo's hair, but other than pressing just a little too hard, Marik's other aspect stayed rather gentle with their lips. Ryo closed his eyes and held his breath; when he finally exhaled, he couldn't help the little moan that escaped between his closed lips. It made Marik's alter ego pull away and laugh again. "I guess that really is all it takes."

"Shut-up," Ryo snapped, embarrassed from his moan and out of breath from their brief contact together.

The blonde above him gave Ryo a facetious smirk. "Make me."

Never one to back down from a challenge, Ryo grabbed the Other Marik's hair, pulled him back down to the bed, and gave him a longer, deeper, kiss.

***The title of this story (obviously) comes from the John Donne poem. This is just a quick fic I jotted down because the idea of it was floating around in my head one day. I've looked over it, but it didn't have a proper beta so feel free to shout out any mistakes I may have missed while editing.***