The Clothes Make The Spirit

‘Shut up, voices, or I’ll slice you with my Millennium Rod again.’

“What?” Marik asked, confused by the saying on the hand-lettered bumper sticker in his hand.

“I think they’re referring to voices in your head, yami,” Malik said tiredly.

“They’re talking about you?” Marik asked dumbly.

Shaking his head at his yami’s stupidity, Malik said, “No, Marik, they’re talking about crazy voices.”

Marik frowned. “But you are crazy, hikari.”

Malik sighed. “Not people voices, yami.”

Comprehension dawned on Marik’s face. “Oh… But why would I tell it to shut up?”

Malik blinked. “Huh?”

Marik grinned. “Well, I have only one other voice in my head besides you – and that’s my libido.”

Malik snorted. “Never thought you could fit anything else in there that rivals yours ego in size.”

“My ego, and certain…other things,” Marik said with a leer, thrusting his hips towards his lover suggestively.

Malik burst out into giggles. “I think…your ego…is definitely the bigger of the two,” he gasped out between pauses for breath.

Scowling, Marik said petulantly, “Well, you certainly weren’t complaining about the size last night!”

“No, I was complaining about how that cheerleader skirt you made me wear gave me a rash,” Malik countered.

Marik chuckled nervously. “Oh…right.”

Malik glared.