That very afternoon they first met, Sagara Sanosuke had already learned how disgustingly easy it was to hate Saitou Hajime. The man had belittled his inexperience and fighting abilities, made a mockery of his person altogether, and then rammed a sword through his right shoulder, all in less time than it took for the boy to comprehend the profound danger those amber eyes promised.

It really wasn't hard not to like the Wolf of Mibu, and Sano could very well attest to this right now as the taller man backed him to a wall pushing him roughly by the shoulder, his same right shoulder that would forever be scarred by an impeccable gatotsu thrust.

"You brainless piece of shit," Saitou seethed, jabbing his gloved left palm against Sano's shoulder, "do you realize how close you came to botching that raid? If my men hadn't picked up fast enough that group would've made a full getaway and left us with completely nothing to haul in. And that, you idiot, would've meant a good two months of investigation down the drain."

His trusty fists trembling, Sano cried out, "Hey you caught the pricks red-handed anyway 'n that's what we came here to do'n the first place, so what the fuck does it matter if I almost gave us away, it wasn't like I couldn't handle the situation -- your guys just didn't give me a chance!"

"My guys just happen to know better than to leave a delicate situation in your stupid hands."

"Well if you all think I'm so stupid then why the hell'd you let me lead the raid in the first place, huh?!"

"Lead?" scoffed the policeman. "I don't recall any of my men taking orders from you."

"Well the whole thing depended on me, 'mean if I hadn't posed so convincingly as a dealer none of you jerks would've stepped a single foot on this fucking hideout! And will you quit pushing me --"

"If you're expecting a sincere thank you from me, then," Saitou cut him off, pushing his shoulder back with even more roughness, "I'm sorry to disappoint you. I never sought out your help, nor will I need it as long as I'm in my right mind."

"You fucking old dick!" spat Sano, his gravely voice quaking in anger.

With one more shove to his right shoulder Sano's back finally struck the wood behind him.

Holding that furious, dark brown gaze in his stern amber own, Saitou then smirked, "But if you really have that big an infatuation on me, fine, I won't stop you from following me around like some lovesick puppy. Just make sure you do it from a distance."

And the young man blanched instantly to a shade akin to that of his clothes.

His parted lips and widened eyes lay dead-still for an indefinite moment, as did the rest of his body, until self-respect prompted him to mask his chagrin with a scowl and indignantly bark, "What the fuck did you just say, you conceited fucker?!"

"Hn, you're a fool to think I'd never catch it..."

Saitou could have sneered even further then to add on to Sano's chagrin, but the boy's heart was already thumping like thunder in his ears for him to hear anything at all at that point. It was embarrassing and infuriating and tragic all at the same time for him to witness the deep-most secret of his heart bared, and then only to be taunted for it by the very man that was the heart of the secret itself.

Second after second the young man merely stood there unable to do anything but beg the earth to swallow him, until Saitou's quiet, malicious snicker convinced him eventually of how more a fool he was just making of himself.

Anxious to end this miserable episode, then, Sano made a lunge for the door...

only to be pushed back roughly again to the wall.

He glared straight into golden eyes, the flagrantly wicked amusement in them driving him to the edge of furious tears. His fists were raging to fly, but against that man's steel-wall defense Sano'd already learned they were only as good as futile.

With no other recourse, hence, he tried repeatedly to make a break, even if the smirking older man would keep pushing him back by the shoulder every time.

After about a dozen times doing this over Saitou eventually grew annoyed, and pinned his captive in place to the wall, leaning all his weight onto his left hand pressing that right shoulder.

Flashing a half-frown, half-smirk, "You're not going anywhere," Saitou asserted.

"Fuck you, you fucking ass... ...What...the..."

The words out of Sano could only trail off as, from out of the blue, Saitou pushed down the right sleeve of the boy's open jacket, and then dipped his head to give that shoulder's bare, scarred muscles...

a warm kiss.

Close to losing his breath in stun, Sano hastily sucked in a big mouthful of air.

...

How could this man go from being an absolute jerk treating him like turd, to being this nice gentle guy making him feel adored, in the space of a moment?

...

With a blushed face, "Sa-Saitou?..." Sano whispered out his confusion.

Saitou paused...and looked up to grin enigmatically at him.

Damn it.

Sano grinned right back.

In the back of his (spinning) mind he knew he shouldn't give Saitou the benefit of the doubt -- the man might just be toying with him, after all -- but before the young man could begin to spoil the moment with such thoughts, Saitou straightened up before him once again, then held him by the back of the head as the older man's mouth swooped down on his own.

And that kiss was all it took to make Sano forget how disgustingly easy it was to hate the man he'd know how to love.

+

Yawning wide enough to tear the sides of his stretched mouth, Cho shuffled the stack of papers on the desk one last time before getting his wearied self at last off the chair. A pair of his subordinates bade him their courteous good-nights as they stepped out the police station, and Cho half-nodded at them his own parting salute. Tucking the inch-and-a-half paper stack under an arm, the blond officer then made his way languidly across the room.

He was half-way about opening his mouth again for a yawn when the sound of familiar, stalk-like footsteps took him rudely out of his somnolent mood. Coming through the wide front door was Saitou, and it only took Cho one swift glance at the nasty scowl on his face to decide against uttering any word to him in greeting. The man looked twenty times even more pissed than he did that morning, as if there were now twenty more people he felt like butchering with his sword. ...Or twenty more sticks lodged up his stiff ass.

Cho would have liked then to stop and figure what could piss Saitou off that much, but the man marched straight towards his office, making the Osaka fighter snicker to himself instead.

'Poor roosterhead,' thought Cho, smirking.

Finally Saitou opened the door to his office, and from his position as onlooker a few yards behind the tall swordsman, Cho snickered anew to himself as he caught Sanosuke at Saitou's desk grin up with an ecstatic "Heya, Saitou!" and then heard the older man reply with an all too demoralizing growl of "Not now!"

The door promptly slammed shut, and Cho almost stomped a foot into the floor boards in frustration. At that point, he would've just about given anything to see the reaction on the roosterhead's face.

... Che, that annoyingly pretty, stupid love-struck face.

...

For a good couple of months now, Cho had been finding it impossible to smile every time he saw Sano wearing that very mug, and earlier that evening when the kid came in was no exception.

"Heya, broomhead!" he had waved at him then. "Saitou back in yet?"

"No," Cho had snorted in reply.

"Well, guess I'll just havta wait in his room, then!" the boy had chirped, before sauntering his way over to Saitou's office, and giving Cho yet another good look of his annoyingly pretty, stupid love-struck face.

Sano had looked so particularly contented with himself then, with life in general, in fact, that Cho had felt this all too enormous negative energy just suddenly engulf every piece of him. He had found himself all suddenly mad and jealous and bitter at Sano, all the more so that he was mad and jealous and bitter at him for something Cho couldn't even start to pinpoint.

Perhaps it was because he'd been behind that desk all day, laboriously poring over the reports Saitou had dumped on his lap for filling, while that indolent, unemployed punk there before him could just walk around whistling juvenile little tunes to himself as though the world owed him for it.

Perhaps it was because Sano was happy...and he was not.

...

At any rate, Cho was certain at the least that it'd please him to see no more of that annoyingly pretty, stupid love-struck face from that point on.

...

Behind Saitou's closed door, Cho could hear the roosterhead screech out a complaint.

Unable to pass up the lure of gossip, Cho decided to listen in, and with deliberate, soundless steps then approached the shut door. He leaned to press an ear against the wood, grasping tightly the stack of papers under his arm.

"... I waited two hours for ya, you dick. You promised we'd eat out tonight!"

"So?"

"What the hell do you mean 'So'?!"

Silence.

"Saitou!"

"Shut up."

"Not 'til you keep your fuckin' promise!"

"I said already I'm not in the mood."

"So?"

"Get out."

"No way. I'm not walking out that door without you."

"You get out. Before I make you."

"Then make me!"

Long silence.

"Sa...Saitou...? Is something bugging you, man?"

"No."

"Hey whatever it is, you can tell me -- ow! What the fuck is your problem?!"

"Get your stupid hands off me."

"Why?!"

More silence.

"This just stinks. Somethin's obviously bugging you and I'm right here in your face and you won't even give me one clue!"

"If you don't stay back..."

"Just tell me what's wrong, Saitou. Please?"

"Nothing's wrong!"

"Why won't you lemme ease you?"

"That's it. GET THE HELL OUT."

"FUCK NO."

There fell yet some more silence, before Cho felt the wood against his ear quiver from what seemed like the impact of someone -- the roosterhead, most likely -- hitting the wall. For the ensuing stretch of seconds Cho could hear the two men inside tussling and jousting, then Saitou eventually slugging the crap out of Sano, as easily indicated by the sounds of the former kenkaya's arduous breathing and cuss-blown growls.

Cho shook his head lightly, smirking at the roosterhead's immense lack of self-preservation against the former Shinsengumi captain.

"Now out."

"I'm not stepping out the fucking door!"

'Geezuz, what an ee-deeot.' Cho gave his head one more shake.

All of a sudden, then, he heard a loud bang inside, and from the cry of pain that accompanied it, he pretty much got the idea that the boy was hurled to the desk from across the door.

"So. You won't leave me alone? --"

"Sh-shit, Saitou, s-stop that, it hurts!"

"-- fine, then take this."

His mouth hanging ajar now in anticipation, Cho leaned his entire side to the door and pressed his intent ear harder. 'Uh-oh, you're gonna get it now, roosterhead.'

He heard the young man thrash his limbs desperately against the desk, and then, before Cho could begin to suspect what Saitou exactly meant by 'take this,' the room resonated with an unexpectedly disturbing peal.

Right that instant, Cho's smirk vanished from his lips, and he felt his body against the door stiffen and go limp all at once.

Not once before had he heard anyone, through such a piercing and soul-crushing cry, let the world know how much they were in pain.

It was at that moment then that Cho knew...that Saitou was seriously hurting Sano. And not just physically, either.

Over Sano's muffled cries and the dull, constant pounding against the desk, Saitou lashed out in a low yet fierce growl, "You just never get it, do you...you cuntly fuck... When I tell you to leave me alone... you leave me, the fuck, alone... now do you or do you not understand that?!... Damn you... God damn you, you disgusting slut... Hold still, you asked for this..."

Within half a minute's time Cho found himself shaking his head again, but this time in unconscious, instinctive disapproval of what he was witnessing in that room. He well couldn't see any of it alright, but what he could hear was enough to paint a most objectionable image in his head, and grip him in the guts like nothing else had ever before.

Cho had always known Saitou could be that ferocious and cruel a man, but this was just too... extreme.

Wasn't Sano supposed to be his...lover, or something?

In a span of two or three minutes Cho stood there helplessly and listened grimacing to the disturbing scene, until a duet of raspy breathing let him know it was finally over. Moments thereafter he picked out the sound of steps moving towards the door, just before he managed to gather back his wits and make his timely get-away. In his hurried flight, however, he lost grip of half the stack under his arm, sending sheets of paper scattering all over the floor.

"Shit!" he muttered under his breath, dropping to his knees at once.

Just as he started to pick up his mess, the door to Saitou's office swung open to an obtuse angle. He heard the steps advance, and catching white cloth from the corner of his eye, Cho figured it was the roosterhead there striding out. Unable to help himself, he tilted his head up just enough to glimpse at the boy's face.

And then he gaped. Or gawked, or probably stared dumbly, he wasn't particularly sure. For all Cho knew at that moment, was that he had never once seen a human being look so pained before in his whole life.

The annoyingly pretty, stupid love-struck face that he'd been wanting to see no more of was just completely gone, wiped out with no trace in those wet, hazel-brown eyes.

Without a backwards glance Sano scooted out of the police station, leaving Cho to grasp absently at the papers down before him. He tilted his head in the direction of Saitou's opened door, in time to see there close by the desk, standing with his side turned to Cho, the cop calmly wipe the hilt of his sheathed sword with a handkerchief.

This time Cho was certain he stared agape.

"The reports. Cho."

At the dark, grim ring in Saitou's tone Cho snapped himself back to consciousness and quickly amassed the strew of papers back into his stack. The minute he was done, he picked his stiffened self up from the floor and walked almost listlessly into his superior's office.

Saitou coolly walked around the desk and sat in his chair.

"H-here they are," Cho kept his voice steady, extending a report-laden hand out to Saitou as he neared his desk. "Everything's in there, I filled 'em all like you told me."

"Good. Leave it here and go."

Saitou leaned forward to his desk and began to clear away the clutter presumably Sano had made there while waiting. A low curse sprung to his lips at the sight of the freshly-depleted ink bottle, as well as the several sheets of scribbled and doodled paper.

Cho placed the reports carefully on an empty spot on the desk, bidding Saitou, "'Night. See ya tomorrow."

He was supposed to turn promptly on his heel then and clear out the room, but paused for a second to watch the slight yet remarkably indismissible trace of... emotion... on Saitou's face, just as he was about to slam the roosterhead's 'paper work' into the wastebasket beside the desk.

Not wishing to appear like he was prying, Cho quickly tore his curious gaze away and headed for the way out.

He was just about to shut the door behind him when, to his surprise, Saitou suddenly pushed his hand away from the knob and stepped out of the room to shut it himself.

Without a backwards glance the man darted out of the police station.

And then Cho found himself gaping, for perhaps the third time in just as many minutes. "What the hell is going on with those two?" he cried out, frowning.

Any other time Cho would probably, simply, dismiss this little matter and go on with his own business, but Saitou's sudden exodus to catch up to Sano was just too thought-provoking to earn from him a mere shrug.

And so without a moment's doubt he grabbed hold of the knob on Saitou's door, twisted it open, and bounded for the wastebasket beside the desk.

Very quickly, just in case Saitou'd come stalking back in, he took out the thick, freshly-dumped papers from the trash and uncrumpled them.

Then:

"Oh... Geezuz..." Cho shook his head sadly, reading the marked handwriting. "The poor roosterhead."

In black ink, scrawled about a hundred times over across the several sheets of crumpled paper, was one annoyingly pretty, stupid love-struck phrase:

+

That night when he reached home, as had been the case the past many nights before, the last thing Katsuhiro expected was to find Sanosuke standing outside his apartment, waiting for him.

"Sano?" he uttered in surprise, slowing down his steps as he neared him.

Leaning back against the shut door, his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his spiky head bowed deep as if to hide his features, Sano nodded in mute acknowledgment.

This unusually unlively behavior was enough to tell Katsu, somehow, that there was something eating his best friend.

Sighing quietly, the long, dark-haired young man stopped before his door and reached out to slide it open. "Come on in," he invited him.

Sano leaned back more relaxedly against the paper-covered door, giving his head a brief shake in refusal. Softly, "Like it better here," he stated.

"Oh... Alright." Katsu lightly shrugged his shoulders, then leaned himself back cross-armed right beside his taller companion.

Amidst the relative quiet of the ruffian dwellings, together the two young men stood there under the luminiscent moon in the distance, spending the better part of five minutes just staring at the blackness around them.

If Katsu would have his way he'd be drilling Sano with questions by now, at the least.

Then again, knowing how hardly at all the boy appreciated getting treated like a helpless child, he decided to wait instead until Sano himself offered the answers.

In any case, Katsu didn't really have to bide his time too long.

"Katsu?"

"Yeah?" he promptly responded, looking at Sano to his left.

"... I want to die right now."

Katsu's initial, instinctive reaction was that of amusement, though it didn't particularly seem to him like Sano was kidding, for some reason. Even if he deemed it uncalled-for, anyhow, he did give in eventually to a hearty laugh.

He just had to laugh.

The words just sounded too ridiculously funny coming out of someone like Sano, someone who had always fought and stood up to everything most his whole life, someone whom you could throw to the sharks and expect to survive, someone who wholeheartedly embraced his penniless, sake-binging existence no matter how lowly or pointless it seemed to everybody else.

Sano wanting to die right now was just plain laughable, if not absurd.

"How dare you laugh at a suicidal man, you jackass," Sano spat out, his tone cross.

Rather than hush him up, Sano's words just even generated more laughter from Katsu, which only caused the other boy to cuss his head off in turn.

By the time Katsu was done laughing, Sano at long last lifted his bowed head, and brought his face into the light of the elegant night sky.

And then Katsu stared, dumb-struck.

At the completely unfamiliar sight of those smooth cheeks smeared with tears, those soaked eyelashes shining bright, and those parted lips curled downward at the edges, "Sano?" Katsu uttered in growing concern. "Are you alright, pal?"

"No," Sano disclosed in a heartbeat, his deep, husky voice cracking. "Things just really suck for me right now, Katsu."

"Why?"

...

No answer.

...

But then perhaps Katsu didn't really need one.

He stared up at Sano thoughtfully, weighing if he should go and ask outright if that bastard lover of his had a hand in all this. He heard himself voicing out his thoughts anyway before he knew it.

"This is about Saitou, isn't it."

Sano simply kept his gaze forward, letting the silence speak on his behalf through a mint of unspoken sentiments, making Katsu realize without glee that he had hit it right on the mark.

"That asshole," Katsu couldn't help but gnash out, jaw muscles knotting.

It wasn't like he hadn't ever seen his friend cry his eyes out or something, but Sano surely wouldn't be crying his eyes out like this and talking about dying and how everything sucked and all that if Saitou hadn't done something to make a poor hapless soul out of him. Like hurt him real bad. Like only that man could.

The thought got Katsu all riled up that he was all set to launch an inflamed tirade against the cop, when at the last second he caught tears spilling down anew Sano's face and heard the soft, melancholic words that fell from his quivering lips.

"... I wish Taicho were still alive, you know?"

It was hardly the first time he'd heard this out of Sano, and yet its impact still shot to the core of his heart, especially as he continued to look at his heartbroken friend and saw the fleeting image of the little boy he'd grown up with in the Sekihoutai. Right there and then Katsu considered, if even just briefly, going after Saitou and murdering the bastard with his bare hands.

"I should prob'ly go home now," Sano blurted out just then, leaning away from the door.

"And what, drown yourself in misery?" Katsu objected. "C'mon, let me cheer you up for a while."

"Well that's nice, man, but I really just wanna sleep this off."

"Hey, say you and me have a drink. Sake?"

"Don't want, thanks."

"How about some food?"

"Nah."

"Well, conversation?"

"Nah."

"Poker?"

"Nah."

"Sex?"

"... What??"

Katsu let loose a deep chuckle. "Kidding, of course," he claimed, and it was partly true. Then he gave Sano a playful jab in the arm.

"You sick flirt." And Sano punched him back in jest as he took his first steps away from the door.

Katsu broke into a wide smile as he watched Sano leave, pleased at the small smile that crossed his friend's own lips, until he noticed the slightly funny way Sano was walking, as though the mere act of walking hurt.

+

Without hurry and without a sound, as if unwilling to perturb the small, empty apartment, Saitou slid open the paper-covered door. Then he stepped in, sliding the door just as slowly and as quietly back closed.

With the aid of the shiny moonlight coming through the vertical slats of the windows, he made out the rolled-up futon against the wall. Smoothly he slid his socked feet off his shoes, which he left to sit down the edge of the raised tatami flooring. He rolled out the bedding on the floor, kicking away the litter of clay bowls, chopsticks, and newspapers thrown here and there.

Once he had the futon laid out, he took his sword off its customary place on his left hip and leaned it to the wall, before laying his uniformed self down on the bed.

With his bent arm under his head Saitou lay on his right side, shut tight his eyes, and listened to his deep, steady breathing in that dark, little shack that wasn't his home.

+

There was only one thing Sanosuke wanted at the moment, and it was to be home -- alone in the comfort of his futon, curled up nice and warm under his blanket. Although he was still far from sleepy, even at this late hour, all he really felt like doing was lie down and close his eyes. If only to keep himself from doing something else, like skipping town, probably, or jumping off a lonely steep.

At least for the meantime, anyway.

So down that long, gloomy road he took on his way home, with nothing to distract him from the searing, lacerating pain that kept growing and growing every step of the way. The more it worsened the more he moved, and by the time he got to his little apartment Sano was just about ready to lay himself down on anything, even the cold, dirty floor.

Sliding the door open, he swiftly slipped into his shack.

And what met his bleary eyes inside was enough to make him regret he hadn't skipped town or jumped off a lonely steep.

Down before him, on one side of his futon, lay Saitou.

What audacity.

His eyes were shut, though it didn't necessarily mean he was sleeping.

The ponderous, tumultuous ache in Sano's chest swelled over in monumental proportions, sapping him momentarily of all effort to breathe.

As to how long Saitou had already been lying there, or what kind of cute ploy he was trying to pull on him -- Sano didn't give a whole lot of damn. He just wanted to lie on his futon right now, and he didn't want that man of all people to be around when he did.

Gripping hard the door frame on either side of him, "Get off my bed, fucker," the young man made sure he snarled.

Almost lazily Saitou opened his eyes, but did nothing more than blink, his body stirring not one iota.

Right there and then Sano would have grabbed the man by the collar and thrown him out himself, but his eyes were now starting to brim over with tears once again, and he would have to be out of his goddamned mind before he'd let that fucker see how his mere presence could reduce him to the wussy little kid he now seemed to be.

In any event, Saitou continued to show no signs of leaving, or moving at the very least.

It was just as well.

His mind made up, Sano turned to leave. Hell he doesn't care shit anymore; he just wanted to get the fuck out of there already.

However:

"Where are you going?" Saitou's stern demand startled him.

Not only did Sano not expect Saitou to dart out the shack after him, he didn't really think the man would concern himself to do so.

In any event, Sano only doubly hastened his steps, determined to let nothing stop him.

He was barely five or six steps away from his door, though, when he felt a roughly insistent tug at his bandanna. By the long, red strips swaying from behind his head Saitou pulled Sano back, keeping the boy from walking any further. Saitou then grabbed hold of him by coiling an arm around his chest, and before Sano could see it coming, he was taken inside his apartment in one easy haul.

Sliding the door shut behind them, Saitou brought the struggling youth down to his back on the futon.

Drawing on whatever is left of his energy Sano continued to fight his way out of Saitou's arms, but the cop was simply far too superior both in strength and in will.

Giving in eventually, Sano simply let Saitou hold him down to the futon, just making sure he kept his eyes shut so as not to see any of that face just above his. The saline flow out his eyes wouldn't cease for one second, as if conspiring with that mean man to make him look like the most pathetic little sight.

Shortly, Sano felt Saitou cup his hands to either side of his spiky head, and his hot, tobacco-laced breath waft over his nose.

In heavy silence, the two men stayed like this for a protracted long while, until Sano decided to open his tear-soaked eyes if only because he thought he heard Saitou say something.

Curtly, "What?" the boy demanded, his tone caustic, his vision too lacking in clarity to make out anything in the amber slits before him.

"I said," Saitou spoke in a low, even tone, "it's funny."

"What?"

"It's funny, that...I find you more beautiful, crying, since I wouldn't want to see you like this ever again."

"Fuck you." Sano's face took on the look of a hostile brute, despite the fresh surge of tears out of his eyes, and the ache stabbing boring drilling out his back through his heart. He screwed his eyes shut anew, only to re-open them when he tried to turn his head to the side and Saitou didn't allow him to. "Just leave me the fuck alone, I don't need this shit from you," his voice grated in his throat. "You suck, you totally just suck. I hate you with all my heart."

"I know."

"GO TO HELL!" at last Sano exploded. He struggled to wrench himself off from under Saitou, stopping only when the man finally, half-heartedly, decided to set him loose.

Out of those tense arms, Sano turned to lie on his side, his wet face drenching the futon...

and his warring emotions rending him in two.

While part of him was indignant at Saitou's apparent condescension and wouldn't want him one second more in this room, another part, a bigger, more massive part of him was anxious to hold the man now just as desperately in return, and out and out forgive him for being such a fucker.

Either way, though, he'd be damned, for he'd still end up unhappy whatever he did -- the thing was, Saitou would forever be the fucker he was born to be, so whether or not they'd kiss and make up Sano knew he was still bound to get hurt.

...

Ah, fuck it all.

Why couldn't he just learn to hate that man again, anyway? It sure was a disgustingly hell lot of an easier job than loving him...

Just then, Sano felt slight movement behind him, and thought Saitou was getting up.

Well. Right he was.

Budging not the littlest bit, Sano listened to Saitou walk over to the door, slide it open, and then slide it back closed.

So. The man had now left him.

"Fucker," Sano gnashed.

Immediately he reached for his blanket somewhere on the floor, kicking away his shoes, covered himself up to his chest with the thick, white cloth, and then settled to curl up nice and warm in his bed like he had intended to do in the first place.

But no matter how he tried, Sano just couldn't seem to keep himself from weeping any more, and feeling a hundred times worse that his lover had left him to do this the whole night through.

+

After an indefinite period that could have run anywhere between a half-hour and a full one -- the man wasn't really keeping track of the time -- Saitou made it back to Sanosuke's apartment.

The moment he slid open the door, he saw the figure on the futon turn slightly to look in his direction, and keenly caught the subdued surprise in those dark glassy eyes.

The boy clearly wasn't expecting him to be back, as he had presumed.

Saitou shut the door behind him as he entered, carefully watching the look in Sano's face as he eyed the two bento boxes Saitou was toting.

If Sano was gladdened at the sight of food, like he always would be, he gave no sign of this whatsoever, and just turned to close his eyes and lie wordlessly on his side once more. Even so, Saitou was still thankful somehow he didn't yell at him anymore to leave.

But as to whether Sano was just too disinterested now to do even that, or didn't really want him to leave again, he would be pleased all the same to find out.

Quickly Saitou stepped further into the shack, and after putting down the bento boxes on the little table against the wall and taking off his shoes, he slipped himself easily under the bed covers and spooned his lean body with his young lover's own, his sturdy chest against Sano's sturdy back.

To his ease, Sano made no effort to resist this.

And then, with his lips brushing against the tips of soft brown hair, Saitou decided to give the long, weary silence a rest.

"My wife has found out about you," he softly revealed the hard news, eliciting a stunned gasp out of Sano. "... I received a letter from her this morning. Says she's upset and will come here to talk. Hn. ...Then. It was probably just my luck, but it was a whole day of hell at work." Saitou paused, lifting himself up onto an elbow, and bending over to look at the boy's face. "I was a prick to take it all out on you..."

Slowly Sano began to stir, turning finally to face Saitou. Once he lay on his back, he stared Saitou right back in the eyes as the older man held his face in his now-ungloved hands.

Then:

"Saitou," his barely-whispered voice broke out.

It was all the syllables Sano's lips could verbalize, but it hardly mattered. For whatever else he couldn't bring himself to express in words, Saitou had no trouble at all reading in his melancholic brown eyes nevertheless.

Just kiss me, /please/, he could read loud and clear the boy speak out to him.

And Saitou would scarcely really need to hear this, anyway, for it was the one, only thing he truly wanted to do on his own at this point.

With not a fraction of a second more lost, he brought his lips down to Sano's and gave him a thoroughly warm, thoroughly expressive kiss.

Sano willingly returned the caress, bringing his arms up to enwrap Saitou.

In Sano's fervid embrace Saitou kissed him more deeply still, and within a stretch of what felt like a day and forever, the two lovers were able to communicate feelings of repentance and forgiveness and devotion and love through that one long, reconciliatory kiss.

When it was all ended, eventually, Sano embraced Saitou more fervidly to himself, and declared, "Okay, think I got my appetite back already. Let's chow down them boxes then, old man."

Burying his caressing mouth in Sano's throat, Saitou grunted. "You are such a brat."

Sano laughed, or rather giggled coarsely. "That tickles!"

And Saitou just had to bite the brat in fondness.

+

One dull morning (a few weeks later) that Cho looked up from the front desk and saw Saitou come in through the front door, he blinked his eyes a hundred times and rubbed them vigorously in disbelief.

Wait a frigging minute.

...

Was that just an annoyingly pretty, stupid love-struck face he saw back there?

...

In a flash, Cho bolted out of his chair. And sought the nearest puke bucket.

END