Bakura smiles aat maliks words before striding over and grabing Maliks hand quickly. He then proceeded to run toward the club excitedly in a completely uncharacteristic way, but he didn't really care he just wanted to have a few drinks with his boyfriend. Then maybe he'd dance with/for him a little, then they could go home and FINNALY go at it! Gods he was horny and he wanted Malik so bad...... but it could wait till after the club.

The club was about four stories tall (the first two floors of clubs and then the third and fourth a hotel titled "The Devil"), jet black, and read in brightly-lit letters across the front "The Monster". Malik could hear pumping music from inside, and occasionally a few shouts.
It was so very, very, tantalizing.

Bakura pulls Malik up to the front and payed to get in. Then moving into the club he slinks in between the dancing people till they where farther in the club. He smirked when he see the pole dancing poles shinning in the dim light of the club and mentally makes a note to dance on one for Malik at some point or another that night. He stops looking at the poles only to turn his gaze to malik "shall we get a drink?" he asks, talking over the loud booming music, the buzz of conversation, and other people who were screaming.

"Why do you think we're here?" Malik walked past Bakura, running a hand over his shoulder.
The bar was a light oaken color, and it shone with the technicolor, multi-shape lights that hung down over the club. He could barely hear over the pounding music, but he loved it. "Two corkscrews." He ordered. The white-haired, red-eyed bartender stared at him inquisitively. "Two?" Malik pointed over his shoulder at Bakura, still behind him. "Two." He answered.
The bartender nodded, grabbing a bottle of vodka from one of the back shelves and pouring one shot into two glasses of orange juice. He placed them on the bar. "Thanks," Malik said, without any feeling to his words, really.

Gilbert Beilschmidt looked at the tan man in front of him, and then at his pale friend in the back. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. He leaned over the bar, got right up in the man's face. "So," He began, qiet enough so only the two of them could hear. "Friends or more?" His gaydar was a perfected mechanism, oiled and well-constructed, but he wanted to be sure. Maybe he could work an extra tip off of these two if he stirred some romance? (that and grab some tips for how to converse with Kiku... This pale fellow looked like the quiet, withdrawn type.)

(( Prussia ))

((PRRRUUUUUSSSSSSSSSSIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAA))
bakura looked around indifferently at the people dancing around him, no one in particular standing out, he really hoped malik didn't take long he really wanted that drink, then maybe later he can pole dance for malik a little and then they can go home and finally have sex.

Malik was taken aback by the bartender's odd and invasive question. "Why?" He asked.
"....Curiousity, I guess."
"That's a stupid thing to be curious about."
"Says who?"
"Why do you want to know?"

While Malik was chatting it up with Gilbert the slightly psychotic bartender, Francis Bonefoy had his eye set on the pretty little jewel across the room. White hair down to his waist, pale skin, creamy, brown eyes, and a lean figure- he was absolutely gorgeous. The way he stood idly, alone... Oh, Francis would do anything to show his love for this tender little flower.
The blonde ran a thin, long-fingered hand through his curly hair, brushed a thumb over his stubble, whipped out a mirror to check himself, and, deeming himself absolutely stunning, sauntered up to the man he so lusted after that Saturday evening.
"Boujour, mon ami," He greeted, quickly grabbing the other's hand and planting on it a soft kiss. "You are quite ze belle peice of work." He complemented.

(( France ))

((tender? Oh Francis.....not exactly the word I'd use to describe Bakura........))
Bakura whipped around when his hand was grabbed and kissed his eyes narrowed as he sized up the man in front of him with a calculating stare and he says in a sharp tone "thank you but, i'm here with my boyfriend" he looked down at his hand which Francis still held and back at Francis with a look that clearly said 'let go'

(( Francis, not France, lol. People names! ))

Francis frowned. "Copain, mon ami? Zat is such a... final word. Surely you are not more... open?" He stood to his full height, and the frown was replaced by a suggestive smirk.

((okay peoples, peoples names lol))
bakura pulled his hand away and flipped his hair over his shoulder then looked the man in the eye"im going to put this as clearly as i can, I. am. taken" he made sure to exaggerate each word, he wanted this man to leave. his grin was creeping him out and he really didn't want another murder charge, it would probably annoy malik to because it would definitely end their night at the club and ruin any chance of sex that night, so he resisted the urge to stab this man repeatedly.

bakura raised and eyebrow, ra this man didn't give up "Bakura" he will not strangle him.....he will not get out his switchblade......he will not kill him.....

"Bakura," Francis tried the name out, barely above a whisper and far too quiet for the other to hear. It sounded lovely. "Well, Monsieur Bakura, may I ask one more sing of you? I cannot leave one such as you along with nossing but a goodbye. I would miss you too much." The words rolled off his lips like honey. He was quite the expert at flirting.

"So, there's your answer."
"Ha. Knew it."
"Goodie."
Malik glared halfheartedly at the bartender- whom he'd since learned was named Gilbert Beilschmidt, had a brother named Ludwig, and was dating a guy named Kiku Honda (just his luck he'd get a gay bartender).
And, aparently, knew the blonde over there flirting with Bakura.
"Hey, isn't that your boyfriend?" Gilbert asked, pointing at Bakura. "Yeah," Malik answered. "Why?"
"I know that look Francis is giving him. Perv's probably already armed with latex and handcuffs."
"Shit, really?"
"Yup."
Malik leapt out of his seat, briskly walking across the overcrowded room (and having to fend off several horny teenage girls as he did so) and up to this 'Francis' guy.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing with my boyfriend?" He demanded.

bakura leaned back into maliks chest sensing the familiar presence of his boyfriend, arms reaching up gracfully to wrap around maliks neck "finally there you are" he kisses malik softly then reaches forward and taps francis's noes "you see this" he gestures "is my boyfriend and you may be a pretty face but your nothing compared to him" he smirks evilly

Malik leaned into the kiss, twisitng his head to deepen it. When he leaned back again, a coy smile lay plastered on his thin lips.
Francis was shocked for a moment, but his mood changed quickly when he actually got a good look at Bakura's boyfriend. Lean, but muscular. Long, blonde, spiky hair, and deeply tanned skin. "Bonjour, mon ami." France greeted the tanner man with an intricate bow. "You are right, Monsieur Bakura," He started. "He iz better." Francis lied. "Perhaps the two of you could... Teach me?"

Bakura raised a delicate white eyebrow "Francis dear.... beauty like this" he ran a hand down Maliks chest "isn't taught.... is just something your born with..... isn't it Malik?" he licks Maliks earlobe teasingly dicideing he was gonna be a little bit of a sexual deviant tonight "we've taught you all we can just by being here" he smiles seductively "now why don't you go attempt to get into someone else's pants because mine and his are reserved for each other" he flipped his long white locks over a shoulder again

Francis smiled. "Oh, mon ami, you mizunderstand my intentions." He slowly approached the two. "You can have your fun togetzer; I only vant to join in." He reached forward and cupped Bakura's face with his long, slender hand, and leaned in to steal a kiss. As he was doing so, his other hand discreetly slipped up the albino's shirt, tracing the outlines on his chiseled abs. "Est-ce que vous deux de sommeil avec moi ce soir?"

Malik had absolutely no idea what the Frenchman was saying, but it sounded suggestive and this blonde poof had just kissed his boyfriend, and this he could not stand for. "Get. Off. My. Boyfriend." First a warning, and then Malik wouldn't hesitate to take evasive action.

Bakura looks absolutely shocked and recoils backwards but is stopped because he forgot he was up against malik shit! he thinks pulling his face away from the blonde's "WHAT THE FUCK" he started attempting to pull his hand out from under his shirt struggling in his haste and absolute shock that the man would suddenly do this, and what the fuck did the Frenchman say?!

"Oh, mon ami, you don't like it?" France frowned, removing his hand from under Bakura's shirt. "Perhapz zis vill be more to your liking..." He leaned into Bakura, wrapping his arms around the albino's waist and gently groping at his buttocks. He turned his gaze to Malik. "Would you like to join me, Monsieur?"

Malik didn't provide Francis with a verbal answer, preferring physical action- A.K.A. a fist to the top of his head. This strike was followed up with, after Francis stumbled backward away from Bakura, a kick to his groin. "Stay away from him." Over-possessiveness had it's benefits sometimes.

((WOO MALIK! yeeeeessssssss! Was hoping for that.... was hoping for that a bit to much.....))
Bakura glares at Francis and growls menicingly "Only Malik can touch me so back the fuck off!"

Francis was too busy clutching at his nether regions in incomprehensible pain to acknowledge what Bakura said. Gilbert Beilschmidt, however, saw and heard the whole thing from his station at the bar, and he couldn't resist shouting a "Whoo!" At the top of his lungs, making a fair few of his customers stare at him strangely.

"That's right." Malik smiled smugly, kicking Francis in the nuts one more time before grabbing Bakura by the arm and stalking back off to the bar. "Come on," He said. "Our drinks are getting warm."

Bakura nodded and walked back to the bar with malik not sparring a second glance for Francis still pissed that he dare touch him like that without his consent, foolish mortal, to bad he didn't get a nice kick in himself and he muttered "how dare that low life even think about touching me!" His voice dripping with distain and malice

Malik took a seat at the bar, in front of his and Bakura's corkscrews. "I guess I'm not the only one who knows how wonderful your ass is," He said. "Take it as a complement."

Bakura shakes his head still disgusted and takes his drink "ya no not from anyone but you, your opinion is the only one I care about everyone else on the planet can go screw themselves"

Malik laughed, taking a swig of his drink and tensing slightly as the burning sensation of the vodka slid down his throat. "I'm sure they'd much rather screw you, baby." Malik leaned over to kiss Bakura, his lips still tasting of vodka and orange juice.

Bakura kisses him deeply leaning into him a bit before pulling away laughing "like they would be the ones doing the screwing!" Bakura drinks some more of his corkscrew and smiled widely