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"What happened?"

His brother turned around and jumped standing on his knees on the couch. He kind of looked him over, trying to find some mark of Mariku's paws on him, but.. apart from that.. weird.. smile.. that wasn't anything weird with him.

"What's going on?"

"What do you mean, nii-san?"

"Jou stopped by some hours ago."

"Oh.." He watched with some attention Ryou's hand nervously touching the end of his braid. "Did he say anything?"

"I don't know. Something you want to tell me?"

I will kill Mariku.. even if I have to die the next day.

"N-nothing."

"Hum.. SO.. have you made friends with the neighbors? Some new friends?" He crossed his arms and looked pointedly at him. Ryou had moved in with him almost three months now. Almost everyone had warmed up to him, he would be far to say that probably the neighbors liked Ryou better than him.

"New friends.. no."

"Really.. Jou said you had made.. an Egyptian friend.."

"Oh.. he's weird like that.. he probably mistook some guy from school for.. an Egyptian guy.. whatever that means.."

"Ryou.. you know that if there's something that I hate more than that damned Ishtar.. is lies. I would prefer if you just told me the truth so I could scream and insult your intelligence."

"Kura-nii.. I swear.. no Egyptian friend.."

Bakura sighed. He probably had gone all wrong with this.

He should have first looked through his things and then maybe set him up in a trap to make him tell me.. Now there's no chance.

"Okay. I'm really tired, so.. I'm going to sleep.. Don't wake me up today, not even if you blow up something in the kitchen, not even if someone comes to see me, not even if the house falls on our head.. I want to sleep."

"Sure."

Bakura sent him a quick glare, trying to see if Ryou would say anything else. But his brother just gave him a sweet, sugary smile that made him almost, almost, say sorry for suspecting him of conspiring with the enemy.. almost being the key, of course. He had known Ryou for a lot of things, but not for lying to him.. It looked like Mariku was having a bad influence..

xxxxxxxx

Next Day

Ryou woke up the next morning feeling guilty. He had promised to never lie to his brother. That had been one of the rules that Bakura had made him agree to the first day. But..

This was different.. and it wasn't really a lie..

The long-haired boy looked at his window, his eyes following the path to the house in front. There were three persons at the door. One was a woman, probably Isis, one of the older sisters, and the other two were two guys that looked similar to each other.

The older being Mariku, who his brother hated with such a vengeance that he pledged every morning that one day he would kill him. The other boy was Malik, the youngest of the four brothers that lived in the house. Malik was close to Ryou's age, and from what he could tell, in Bakura's eyes, the only thing wrong with him was that he was Mariku's look-alike.

After all, Bakura was even nice with Isis sometimes. Oh, and there was another older brother, Rashid or something like that, that was never home because he had some work in a museum or the sorts. He was a few years older than Bakura, and was big.. that was probably the reason his own brother didn't start his vow to kill him too.. that and maybe because he wasn't anything like Mariku, as Malik was at least.

Maybe someday he could make his brother understand that the Ishtars were not that bad. After all, he.. Well.. Bakura would kill him if he knew that..

Ryou blushed as his thoughts stopped in a recent memory, his first kiss. Funny how he could only think now that Romeo and Juliet sentence, "My only love born from my only hate", or something like that.. Well.. it was his brother's hate, but you get the picture. It was almost ironic..

I hope we don't die at the very end.. at least I can hope for a happy ever ending, right?

His eyes, which were for some time now glued to the next house, suddenly noticed someone stopped at the door. Someone leaned in the door frame, looking right at him. He wanted to do something, like scream or fly to his arms.. something like a love-struck girl would do.. But that would be suicide. Not only could he fly, but his brother would be never too cut both their heads if he could approach close enough. Still, he couldn't help the smile that made his face, and the way his heart screamed his love in place of his voice.

xxxxxxxx

First chapter ends here.. Review and say what you thought of it..

Remember that English is not my first language.. and that it's 5 AM here right now.. so.. mistakes all over the place probably.. You can point those to me too!

Well.. As I think this made me FINALLY get sleepy.. I'm going to bed!

Baibai! <33333
Genre: buffy_angel

Chapter 1

"Fuck you and your cat!" Pairing: Spike/Lorne (The Host) Disclaimer: Joss owns the characters. The title was stolen from a song by Goldfinger. Author's notes: No felines were kicked in the ass during the writing of this fic.

Okay, so I knew he didn't like cats. Sweet cheeks, I ask you, who the heck doesn't like cats? All right, there's dogs, Vartog demons, mice, rats (yuck), and Spike. I knew he didn't like cats. I didn't know he was allergic to them. It was such a cute little thing.

I was closing up the bar after a particularly long and torturous evening listening to Angel sing his little soul out on stage. He said he had a difficult case to solve and needed a reading, but I knew better. He's a closet Judy Garland, you know. Only difference is, Jude could sing. What that vamp can do to "La Vida Loca" doesn't bear thinking about. The phrases "bleeding eardrums" and "please somebody kill me now" spring to mind. Worse than that? He did all the actions, baby. The man has no rhythm! He jerked around up on that stage like a scalded cat. Sounded like just like one, too. And speaking of cats...

I'd just ushered the last of the (and I use the term loosely) "people" from the bar and had locked up, when I heard this strange noise coming from under one of the tables. Being the brave fella that I am, I sent Garcia to check it out. Hey, I'm the boss. It wouldn't do if I was eaten or mauled... although that very much depends on who is doing the eating, honey!

Anyhoo, he came back with the cutest little bundle of flea-bitten fur I've seen since I said farewell to mum and the siblings back in Pylea. Only the kitten didn't smell as foul, nor did it do the Dance of Shame. On the upside, it didn't curse me and run me out of town either, so that kinda endeared me to the little beast straight away. Gently, I lifted him from Garcia's arms, trying to dodge razor-sharp little teeth and claws. But hey, I'm used to that. Sometimes Spike gets a little frisky, and boy, when he does, it pays to keep your "essentials" right out of fangs way! I've been bitten on the dick often enough to know when to shimmy my caboose to the other end of the bed.

So, I'm standing in the bar at 2 a.m. with an overexcited pussy. What's a guy to do? I did the only thing you can do when you're stood there cupping an overexcited pussy in your hot little hands: I took it home with me, and after it devoured the contents of the refrigerator, I took it to bed. Well, would you have left a restless pussy to nose through your personals while you slept? I think not!

Actually, the little fella was pretty damn snuggly, all furry and warm. Reminded me of Cordy's Groo in a way; all hair and cuteness with the strangest blue eyes... I never realized cats could have blue eyes. Spike was out on one of his nocturnal rambles, which meant he would probably stagger in just before daybreak with a bellyful of beer and a hard-on. Isn't it funny how vampires are always horny? Man, that bloodsucker could shag for Britain... and don't even get me started on the sucking angle. I'm snoozing and drifting happily in the Land of Nod, canoodling with Agent Mulder in a big vat of Jell-O when the slamming of the apartment door ripped me from his strong and muscular arms and dropped me unceremoniously back in the small studio Spike and I share above the bar. Sigh. Damn, it was strawberry Jell-O too...

I could hear his bleached-ness rummaging around in the refrigerator for the chocolate ice cream he thought he had hidden behind the frozen blood bags. I say thought, 'cause I'd been there, slurped it all, and hidden the evidence already underneath the blood bags. We both love it, you see. It's like a running battle to see who can finish it first, and because some of us actually work for a living, it's usually Spike who gleefully leaves me naught but the empty box. I can always tell when he's done it - the little sucker watches me walking to the 'fridge with his smug little smirk, knowing he's scoffed the lot and I'm too tired to go to the store to buy more... which he would eat most of anyhow. But not tonight, sugar.

Sometimes he resorts to a dirty tricks campaign that would win him a nomination for the White House - his second favorite is to 'accidentally' drizzle blood on it. His first favorite? Let's just use the word 'drizzle' and leave it at that. Believe me, baby, even I shudder to think what he gets up to when he's alone and horny!

There's the sound of the refrigerator door being slammed and the drunken mutterings of a pissed-off and ice cream-deprived vampire, before I hear the twin thumps of Dr. Marten's hitting the floor. Who the heck is Dr. Marten, and why does he feel the need to make boots? (Clears throat and affects a deep, manly voice) "Trust me, I'm a doctor... of boots," yeah, like that's gonna get him on ER.

Anyhoo, a few rustles, thumps, and muffled curses later, and a cool, beer-smelling body slips into bed beside me. I gotta tell ya, people, there is nothing like having your own vampire slip into bed beside you when the humidity is taking the paint off the walls. I often tell him he's like a big ice Popsicle. Of course, you can guess what his response is to that. Let's just say that after three months of rampant bonking with Spike, I could suck the spots off a leopard. He's kinda orally fixated, and not only in a bloodsucking way. It's part of his charm. Hey, it's all of his charm.

He snuggles up close, hands caressing the entire length of my torso before settling just below the navel, where he gently tugs the little hairs that lead the way to Lorne Heaven. He growls softly in my ear, knowing how much it turns me on. "Grrrrrrrr... Wanna play, baby?"

Holy cow, is the Pope a Catholic? Does a bear crap in the woods? Could my dick be any harder? I flutter my eyelashes coquettishly, trying for the Britney Spears pouty look. I probably come across more as a coy Kermit the frog, although unfortunately, I haven't got the tongue to go along with it. "Now, Spikey-kins..." I purr. "Do you really need to ask? You know I can't get enough of that naughty vamp lovin'... Come on over and give me some sugar, baby."

"What happened?"

His brother turned around and jumped standing on his knees on the couch. He kind of looked him over, trying to find some mark of Mariku's paws on him, but.. apart from that.. weird.. smile.. that wasn't anything weird with him.

"What's going on?"

"What do you mean, nii-san?"

"Jou stopped by some hours ago."

"Oh.." He watched with some attention Ryou's hand nervously touching the end of his braid. "Did he say anything?"

"I don't know. Something you want to tell me?"

I will kill Mariku.. even if I have to die the next day.

"N-nothing."

"Hum.. SO.. have you made friends with the neighbors? Some new friends?" He crossed his arms and looked pointedly at him. Ryou had moved in with him almost three months now. Almost everyone had warmed up to him, he would be far to say that probably the neighbors liked Ryou better than him.

"New friends.. no."

"Really.. Jou said you had made.. an Egyptian friend.."

"Oh.. he's weird like that.. he probably mistook some guy from school for.. an Egyptian guy.. whatever that means.."

"Ryou.. you know that if there's something that I hate more than that damned Ishtar.. is lies. I would prefer if you just told me the truth so I could scream and insult your intelligence."

"Kura-nii.. I swear.. no Egyptian friend.."

Bakura sighed. He probably had gone all wrong with this.

He should have first looked through his things and then maybe set him up in a trap to make him tell me.. Now there's no chance.

"Okay. I'm really tired, so.. I'm going to sleep.. Don't wake me up today, not even if you blow up something in the kitchen, not even if someone comes to see me, not even if the house falls on our head.. I want to sleep."

"Sure."

Bakura sent him a quick glare, trying to see if Ryou would say anything else. But his brother just gave him a sweet, sugary smile that made him almost, almost, say sorry for suspecting him of conspiring with the enemy.. almost being the key, of course. He had known Ryou for a lot of things, but not for lying to him.. It looked like Mariku was having a bad influence..

xxxxxxxx

Next Day

Ryou woke up the next morning feeling guilty. He had promised to never lie to his brother. That had been one of the rules that Bakura had made him agree to the first day. But..

This was different.. and it wasn't really a lie..

The long-haired boy looked at his window, his eyes following the path to the house in front. There were three persons at the door. One was a woman, probably Isis, one of the older sisters, and the other two were two guys that looked similar to each other.

The older being Mariku, who his brother hated with such a vengeance that he pledged every morning that one day he would kill him. The other boy was Malik, the youngest of the four brothers that lived in the house. Malik was close to Ryou's age, and from what he could tell, in Bakura's eyes, the only thing wrong with him was that he was Mariku's look-alike.

After all, Bakura was even nice with Isis sometimes. Oh, and there was another older brother, Rashid or something like that, that was never home because he had some work in a museum or the sorts. He was a few years older than Bakura, and was big.. that was probably the reason his own brother didn't start his vow to kill him too.. that and maybe because he wasn't anything like Mariku, as Malik was at least.

Maybe someday he could make his brother understand that the Ishtars were not that bad. After all, he.. Well.. Bakura would kill him if he knew that..

Ryou blushed as his thoughts stopped in a recent memory, his first kiss. Funny how he could only think now that Romeo and Juliet sentence, "My only love born from my only hate", or something like that.. Well.. it was his brother's hate, but you get the picture. It was almost ironic..

I hope we don't die at the very end.. at least I can hope for a happy ever ending, right?

His eyes, which were for some time now glued to the next house, suddenly noticed someone stopped at the door. Someone leaned in the door frame, looking right at him. He wanted to do something, like scream or fly to his arms.. something like a love-struck girl would do.. But that would be suicide. Not only could he fly, but his brother would be never too cut both their heads if he could approach close enough. Still, he couldn't help the smile that made his face, and the way his heart screamed his love in place of his voice.

xxxxxxxx

First chapter ends here.. Review and say what you thought of it..

Remember that English is not my first language.. and that it's 5 AM here right now.. so.. mistakes all over the place probably.. You can point those to me too!

Well.. As I think this made me FINALLY get sleepy.. I'm going to bed!

Baibai! <33333

Genre: buffy_angel

Chapter 1

"Fuck you and your cat!" Pairing: Spike/Lorne (The Host) Disclaimer: Joss owns the characters. The title was stolen from a song by Goldfinger. Author's notes: No felines were kicked in the ass during the writing of this fic.

Okay, so I knew he didn't like cats. Sweet cheeks, I ask you, who the heck doesn't like cats? All right, there's dogs, Vartog demons, mice, rats (yuck), and Spike. I knew he didn't like cats. I didn't know he was allergic to them. It was such a cute little thing.

I was closing up the bar after a particularly long and torturous evening listening to Angel sing his little soul out on stage. He said he had a difficult case to solve and needed a reading, but I knew better. He's a closet Judy Garland, you know. Only difference is, Jude could sing. What that vamp can do to "La Vida Loca" doesn't bear thinking about. The phrases "bleeding eardrums" and "please somebody kill me now" spring to mind. Worse than that? He did all the actions, baby. The man has no rhythm! He jerked around up on that stage like a scalded cat. Sounded like just like one, too. And speaking of cats...

I'd just ushered the last of the (and I use the term loosely) "people" from the bar and had locked up, when I heard this strange noise coming from under one of the tables. Being the brave fella that I am, I sent Garcia to check it out. Hey, I'm the boss. It wouldn't do if I was eaten or mauled... although that very much depends on who is doing the eating, honey!

Anyhoo, he came back with the cutest little bundle of flea-bitten fur I've seen since I said farewell to mum and the siblings back in Pylea. Only the kitten didn't smell as foul, nor did it do the Dance of Shame. On the upside, it didn't curse me and run me out of town either, so that kinda endeared me to the little beast straight away. Gently, I lifted him from Garcia's arms, trying to dodge razor-sharp little teeth and claws. But hey, I'm used to that. Sometimes Spike gets a little frisky, and boy, when he does, it pays to keep your "essentials" right out of fangs way! I've been bitten on the dick often enough to know when to shimmy my caboose to the other end of the bed.

So, I'm standing in the bar at 2 a.m. with an overexcited pussy. What's a guy to do? I did the only thing you can do when you're stood there cupping an overexcited pussy in your hot little hands: I took it home with me, and after it devoured the contents of the refrigerator, I took it to bed. Well, would you have left a restless pussy to nose through your personals while you slept? I think not!

Actually, the little fella was pretty damn snuggly, all furry and warm. Reminded me of Cordy's Groo in a way; all hair and cuteness with the strangest blue eyes... I never realized cats could have blue eyes. Spike was out on one of his nocturnal rambles, which meant he would probably stagger in just before daybreak with a bellyful of beer and a hard-on. Isn't it funny how vampires are always horny? Man, that bloodsucker could shag for Britain... and don't even get me started on the sucking angle. I'm snoozing and drifting happily in the Land of Nod, canoodling with Agent Mulder in a big vat of Jell-O when the slamming of the apartment door ripped me from his strong and muscular arms and dropped me unceremoniously back in the small studio Spike and I share above the bar. Sigh. Damn, it was strawberry Jell-O too...

I could hear his bleached-ness rummaging around in the refrigerator for the chocolate ice cream he thought he had hidden behind the frozen blood bags. I say thought, 'cause I'd been there, slurped it all, and hidden the evidence already underneath the blood bags. We both love it, you see. It's like a running battle to see who can finish it first, and because some of us actually work for a living, it's usually Spike who gleefully leaves me naught but the empty box. I can always tell when he's done it - the little sucker watches me walking to the 'fridge with his smug little smirk, knowing he's scoffed the lot and I'm too tired to go to the store to buy more... which he would eat most of anyhow. But not tonight, sugar.

Sometimes he resorts to a dirty tricks campaign that would win him a nomination for the White House - his second favorite is to 'accidentally' drizzle blood on it. His first favorite? Let's just use the word 'drizzle' and leave it at that. Believe me, baby, even I shudder to think what he gets up to when he's alone and horny!

There's the sound of the refrigerator door being slammed and the drunken mutterings of a pissed-off and ice cream-deprived vampire, before I hear the twin thumps of Dr. Marten's hitting the floor. Who the heck is Dr. Marten, and why does he feel the need to make boots? (Clears throat and affects a deep, manly voice) "Trust me, I'm a doctor... of boots," yeah, like that's gonna get him on ER.

Anyhoo, a few rustles, thumps, and muffled curses later, and a cool, beer-smelling body slips into bed beside me. I gotta tell ya, people, there is nothing like having your own vampire slip into bed beside you when the humidity is taking the paint off the walls. I often tell him he's like a big ice Popsicle. Of course, you can guess what his response is to that. Let's just say that after three months of rampant bonking with Spike, I could suck the spots off a leopard. He's kinda orally fixated, and not only in a bloodsucking way. It's part of his charm. Hey, it's all of his charm.

He snuggles up close, hands caressing the entire length of my torso before settling just below the navel, where he gently tugs the little hairs that lead the way to Lorne Heaven. He growls softly in my ear, knowing how much it turns me on. "Grrrrrrrr... Wanna play, baby?"

Holy cow, is the Pope a Catholic? Does a bear crap in the woods? Could my dick be any harder? I flutter my eyelashes coquettishly, trying for the Britney Spears pouty look. I probably come across more as a coy Kermit the frog, although unfortunately, I haven't got the tongue to go along with it. "Now, Spikey-kins..." I purr. "Do you really need to ask? You know I can't get enough of that naughty vamp lovin'... Come on over and give me some sugar, baby."