3.

Sanosuke awoke from his nap with a ferociously hungry stomach...and a smile.

The smile, though, came only after he'd placed where he lay: flopped on his stomach right on top of Saitou, his right cheek on Saitou's right thigh, his legs splayed out on either side of Saitou's head, and his ass, thrust up, just below Saitou's chin. (As to how they'd ended up in that position, Sano had his doubts; they couldn't really have 69'ed each other in their sleep...or could they have??) Of course, it would've been a smile ten times bigger there on his lips had they both been naked (the pleasant breeze through the windows had insisted they put something back on) but he couldn't really complain the slightest bit. He was contented enough as it was.

...and it wasn't only because he'd just had the best the most amazing fabulous sex.

With careful, exacting movements, Sano slid his face down all the closer to the man's crotch, which was just inches before his eyes. Closer still he slid his cheek, until it rested smack on top of that soft, clothed mound, on top of that very cock that had felt deliciously forceful and incredibly thick and hard inside the most personal core of his body only a mere couple of hours before. Yeah. Sano could feel his hips buck just recalling it.

Hah, if only because of that, he could probably forgive the old prick for having shoved him off his bed at a horribly early hour, and forced him to hop the bullet train he'd so feared since his days as a little kid ("What if the fucking thing crashes at that speed?!").

Closing his eyes with a sigh, he rubbed his cheek up and down Saitou's crotch, turned to let his nose do the same, then his lips, his chin, his forehead, his other cheek. With just his face Sano stroked and caressed the genitals beneath those gray pants, in an ardent bid to draw a response out of his dozing lover.

Saitou's hips shifted just a bit under Sano's dead weight, and the callused hand grasping at his shirt rubbed the length of his back once, but Saitou imparted not the first sign he was going to wake up yet.

Against his own briefs-concealed crotch Sano could feel the steady rise and sink of Saitou's naked chest, and for a sustained minute he was all ears to nothing but Saitou's easy breathing in that room.

Their would-be room, actually...

Gee.

How had he come this far this fast, anyway? One moment he was a miserable young turd with a career gone to the dogs, the next he was a lucky little dick about to live with the man he intensely loved. And who happened to love him back just the same, too -- hell it couldn't be more obvious; he didn't need Saitou to spit it out to his face.

It was almost like playing the lead in some fairy tale, like going from rags to riches and all that whimsical shit...expect that, well, he wasn't precisely in rags when he was with Shishio...and, well...he hadn't exactly left Shishio yet in the first place. Um.

That would change in due time, though -- more precisely, soon -- and with this house and everything else his lover had planned in store for them, Saitou seemed pretty confident Sano would leave Shishio alright.

... Damn.

And he'd told himself he wasn't going to mind all this pressure.

'Che! Who's pressured?!' Sano sneered in his mind. After all, it wasn't like he hadn't an entire week to harass himself over the matter. It would, in fact, be more than sufficient time for him. Now all he might want to do, meantime, was pray Shishio would find it in his heart to let him go. Well...granting he used his heart, anyway.

Just then, Sano's thoughts were cut off by the loud sound of a grumbling stomach. His. Oh, yeah, he'd almost forgotten how starving he was. He hadn't really had a chance to grab a bite yet, for he had squandered his time alternating between bickering with Saitou and trying to catch some Z's.

He grabbed hold of Saitou's wrist and brought it level to his eyes, saw his timepiece registering 2:38. Amazing how he'd lasted this long without food.

Carefully now, Sano peeled away the coat Saitou had draped over him and began to get up from where he lay, but not before fixing a light kiss on his lover's crotch.

Once he got to his feet he bent backward and stretched out his arms, smiling broadly at the grand, graceful display of the city of Kyoto across the room. There couldn't be a more excellent view of town than from this room, and that little balcony added to the finish just right. Once they'd have settled in and all, Sano'd make it his favorite spot in the house for sure.

Taking no longer than a jiffy, he pulled his hip-huggers back on, straightened out his clothes and tamed his hair a bit, all the while watching the most beautiful man in his eyes sleep soundly by his feet. Poor guy must be pooped from all his detective toil of late, trying to catch up on lost sleep himself.

He was just about rearranging the spread of the trench coat over Saitou, when something metallic the size of a fist slid out one of its pockets.

It was Saitou's police badge.

Grinning, Sano snatched it up for a casual inspection. TOKYO ELITE FORCE, the insignia read proudly and impressively in the center.

"Cool," he whistled. Giving the shiny, silver surface a rub with the heel of his hand, he slipped the oval-shaped badge inside his left back pocket. Maybe he'd keep it there for just a while. Of course, Saitou'd come looking for it a little later, and maybe he'd tell him he lost the thing. That might be fun. Heh.

Patting once his behind, Sano then stooped down to grab his jacket and kiss Saitou on the shoulder, before finally deciding to slink out and go find something to fill his tummy downstairs.

He paused just a second though by the door, casting the wall beside it an appraising gaze. Then, he nodded to himself in approval, his grin stretching wide as he left the room.

Yep, his TV would fit that wall just perfectly.

Taking his first step down the stairs, he thought he heard music playing from below. It was music he could recognize, too: an oldie, as a matter of fact, a song he remembered his mother used to love to sing.

Dancing and swaying his head just a fraction to the light beat, Sano sang along to the tune as he made his way down.

"I'm on the top of the worrd rooking down on creation, and the onry expuranation I can find is the ruv that I've found ever since you've been around... Your ruv's put me at the top of the worrd..."

As soon as Sano reached the bottom of the stairs, he went over to poke his head past the nearest doorway. In the kitchen area of the adjoining room, he saw the two caretakers, seated at the little square table. There was a small, black radio set on the counter behind the old man.

They were both sipping from little white coffee cups, most likely having just finished lunch, as implied by the two emptied bowls laid aside on the table. Neither one had yet to notice him, however, what with their heads slightly bowed, as they seemed a little too preoccupied with the crossword puzzle in the newspaper.

Sano waited for the song to end before he moved at all, and it was only then that the old couple looked up from their paper at last.

"I trust you had a good nap, Sanosuke?" the old woman smiled, pocketing her pencil and pair of glasses. She reached past the old man to switch off the frisky music.

"I did, thanks," Sano smiled back. He reached the table in two strides and, clutching at his audibly griping stomach, asked flush, "D'you guys got somethin' for me to eat?"

"Why of course!" The old woman flew off her chair at once, clearing away the table. "Have a seat, I shall go get you something."

Promptly Sano plopped himself onto the chair opposite the old man, who had just put down his cup and placed his own pencil jutting out from behind an ear.

"Um, I don't think I caught your names earlier?"

"I am Koto, and that there is my wife Zumi," the old man replied, rather absently, though, for he seemed to be regarding the young man with thickly curious eyes.

"Koto, Zumi. Okay." Casually then Sano tossed his own curious eyes about him. Apparently, there was hardly anything for him to see there, as the kitchen and adjacent dining area appeared to be as barren as any of the other rooms. He couldn't help asking Koto, "Don't you have any stuff 'round here to keep you entertained? You know, like a TV?"

"Not really. We do not have any need for one."

"So what d'you do here all day, just look after the house?"

"Yes, as caretakers that is what we do. We clean up, we water the plants, we make certain everything is fine and as good as new."

"And you've been doing that for how long now."

"Oh, reaching eight years."

"Here you go, Sonny." With Zumi's swift return to the table came a dish that teemed with rice balls, plus a drink of apple juice to go with them.

"Woah, thanks," Sano bowed, right as he popped a ball into his mouth.

"Does it taste good?"

Grabbing his second rice ball, Sano gave Koto a thumbs-up gesture before he continued to stuff his face.

Zumi reclaimed her seat and, with intent, almost intrigued eyes, watched Sano gobble up the rest of his meal. "How old are you, lad, if you do not mind me asking?"

Sano found himself hesitate for a moment. People he met for the first time usually asked him the same things, in the same order. First, his name. Next, his age. Then, if he was in school. And right after, what he did for a living if he didn't go to school.

Dreading to have to be asked the last question, Sano gave his reply nonetheless. "Nineteen."

"Why, he is just a baby!"

"Ah, so he could not be a fellow detective of Mr. Saitou's, I was right." Koto gave his wife a sort of gloating look. "You were wrong."

Sano felt a trifle uncomfortable, somehow, learning his two new acquaintances had been 'talking' about him.

As he'd anticipated already, Zumi shot him another question. The usual third in line. "I suppose you are a student, then?"

Wordlessly he shook his head no, unwilling to expand his answer. He seemed to be in luck, nonetheless; the question never did get a follow-up. Instead, he was asked:

"How are you friends with Mr. Saitou?"

"Yes, we find that quite interesting." Koto scratched at his grizzled chin.

"It is just that, we have never known him to associate with the younger folk."

"W'll..." Sano paused in mid-champ, wondering why his brow seemed to break out in a sweat. "I kinda helped him with some case a while back, and, we just grew close since then, I guess. We're almost constantly together." Whatever significant details he didn't bother to mention, he'd leave it all to their boss to tell them. It was Saitou's responsibility at worst, anyway.

Zumi smiled, as if she found his story likeable. Her words backed this. "That sounds nice."

'Ain't it?' Sano beamed to himself.

"But why did Mr. Saitou come here all of a sudden? He does not ever bother to see this house, is that not right, Zumi?"

"Yes, that is right."

"Is he thinking of moving in, finally, perhaps?"

"I think so, yeah," Sano nodded, not volunteering to elaborate like the first time.

"Oh. With the missus and kids, I hope?"

Hold it right fucking there. Sano brought his chewing to a complete stop and turned to Koto with raised brows. "What'd you say?"

"You know, his family. I just thought they were back together. Mr. Saitou was intending for them to live here after all."

"But, it was just unfortunate," Zumi continued for Koto, "that his plan never did push through."

"Wh-why, what happened?" Sano tried to wash down the pasty rice in his mouth with gulps of the juice.

The old woman sighed. "We can only make our own assumptions. Mr. Saitou and the missus seemed to have drifted apart. He has been living alone ever since. We do not really know if he even gets to see his boys, they are too far away. Last we heard, they are with their mother down in Okinawa."

"It is such a pity." Koto sighed as well, a broad hint of sadness on his frazzled old face. "No one has even made this house their home yet."

"Still, Koto and I are hoping the Saitou family reunite. This lovely house just deserves a lovely family, do you not think so?"

With a small, brittle smile, Sano nodded without meaning to. Or being half-aware of it, even. He was on the point of snatching up another rice ball, but found he'd lost interest in eating altogether. It never really was a clever idea, anyway, filling an empty stomach too quickly. Now it was starting to hurt.

"Wouldn't you know if, if his wife's got a new husband already, though?" He just thought he'd ask.

"I hope not," Zumi said, making it a point to sound firm. "Why, Sanosuke, you are not saying Mr. Saitou has already found a new wife, are you?"

A sickly shrug was the best Sano could offer in reply, as well as a soft, almost faint, "You'll havta ask him that yourself." That was it; he'd had enough of the rice balls. So now with nothing more to do at the table he grabbed his jacket from his lap, and abruptly fled his chair.

"Where are you going?"

"Why, you have only finished half of these."

"I think I'm gonna take a little walk," Sano announced, slipping into his jacket as he headed for his sneakers by the front door. "Thanks a lot for the rice balls. See you later, Koto, Zumi." And he stepped out pulling the door shut behind him before either of them could say more.

It wasn't studded with pointy rocks or anything, not even over a couple of yards long, but for some reason Sano had trouble just taking the little footway toward the gate. Right as he touched it, he pushed the gate open and walked out, walked his way straight down the quiet, sloping street.

Gazing back at the house, his eyes drifted to the curtainless windows in the upstairs floor. He wondered if Saitou was still napping.

"... This lovely house just deserves a lovely family, do you not think so?"

Sano faced forward again, kept on walking the road. At some point, somehow, he figured he had no place being there at all...

in Kyoto...

in that neighborhood...

in that clean white house.

He decided it was time he made for home. And so he tramped on straight ahead, bearing in mind the Shinkansen train station as his goal. It was a half-hour walk from here but he didn't think shit of the task. He fished his wallet out of his right back pocket. Not enough cash to cover the ticket, but at least he had his credit cards, they'd probably take that. So he put his wallet back in his pocket and carried on forward.

In about three hours and a half he should be back in Tokyo. Katsu wouldn't probably be home yet by then, his last class for the day ending at 5:50. No biggie. He could just hit the sack for another nap, anyway.

Suddenly he couldn't wait to sink into his bed.

+

It was impossible for him to have lost it, so Saitou figured his badge must have somehow gotten into (where else but) Sanosuke's hands. Which was the only reason, really, he was even taking this hall to the boy's pad. To retrieve his badge.

Well...that and maybe to ask what the hell he was thinking taking off all suddenly, too.

Saitou already had an inkling, at any rate, and it bothered him more than he'd ever allow it to.

He had spoken to Koto and Zumi just before he'd left the house, right after he'd woken up from his nap without the boy around...

"Sanosuke went out to take a walk, Mr. Saitou," Zumi had explained.

"Come to think of it, he has been out for almost an hour now."

"Oh you are right, dear. Perhaps he had strayed off a little too far and got lost?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if he did," Saitou had frowned to himself.

"Excuse me for asking, Mr. Saitou, but may we know how you have become friends with that young man? He does not seem to be someone you could get along with on many things."

"Koto, it is not right to speak like that with Mr. Saitou. The reason he keeps his friends is not any of our business."

"Sanosuke will be moving in here with me."

An endless while after he had stated thus, the old couple had let out a double gasp.

"Oh dear me."

"Is there a problem?" Saitou had demanded then.

"I fear that, it is possible your young friend may have gone away and...and not just taken a walk."

"Heavens, Zumi, now you are the one talking too much."

And Saitou had looked back and forth at his two old acquaintances with a questioning scowl. From their dubious fit of nervous laughter, somehow, something had told him they probably had inadvertently driven his young friend away...

Hn. Still. The boy was an idiot to just leave and fly like that.

And he was an even bigger idiot, too, to take Saitou's badge with him. Was he so confident Saitou wouldn't bother catching the next bullet train to Tokyo, however crammed with passengers it was, and follow him straight all the way to his apartment to get it back from him?

Idiot. That kid really wasn't thinking at all...

Reaching door number 801 finally, Saitou gave the thick wood a curt rap. After a moment, as he'd expected, Katsu got the door for him. The flat's co-occupant stood stiffly at the sight of him, making sure not to budge the door open more than an inch.

"I'm sorry, Detective." Katsu's face soured. "Sano told me not to let you in."

Saitou stood unmoving for a second. Then: "He has my badge."

Something streaked its way across Katsu's face. It looked quite a lot like a simper. "Nice try," were his last words, before the younger man swiftly closed the door on him.

It was only after a still minute that Saitou finally walked away from the door, reaching for a cigarette and his lighter in his coat pockets. He wasn't really in the mood right now to force his way into someone's home, especially if they could be as stubborn as the spikes of their hair.

Nevertheless, the man walked in the direction opposite the way out, over to the end of that lonely long corridor. He stopped before the wide, tinted glass window that faced the jungle of high-rises in the neighborhood. The sky had only just darkened now into a flat shade of black, though it gave the appearance of a livid purple-blue from the glitter of lights across the buildings. Below him, cars rolled in manageable traffic. In the distance, within the little park, a couple of adolescents capered about in the small patch of playground.

Saitou propped an elbow over an arm folded across his abdomen, and for the next many minutes smoked his cigarette in utter stillness, studying the scene.

He wondered how Kyoto usually looked at this hour, viewed from the little balcony of his house.

Well...he could find out in a week. Perhaps even in less time.

As the burning end of his cigarette began to reach the filter mark, Saitou contemplated about leaving and heading for home, but was stopped, bluntly, by the thought that his badge was still with the boy.

It was definite, then. He was going to stay.

+

It was a presence he could detect even in sleep.

Saitou's sharp eyes flitted open. He turned to his left to see there, about a few paces away, Sanosuke in a black robe, standing in the hallway just outside his apartment door.

The man lightly rubbed his eyes as Sano stared down at him without a word. His face seemed to hold only the barest of some vague expression. A moment passed, and the boy turned on a bare heel, went back right inside his apartment.

He left the door yawning open.

Saitou took a glance of his wristwatch. Just past eight.

In the morning, that was, if the bright skylight greeting him through the corridor window was its surest sign.

Against the wall, Saitou now picked himself up from his sitting position, and walked to follow Sano inside.

+

There was an appealing spread of breakfast food on the six-seater table, half-fried sausages and fresh butter rolls among them, fit for a company of three or ten, yet Katsu was the only one even pecking at it. Beside him, his roommate merely sulked. For his part, Saitou, seated right opposite Katsu, merely stared at Sanosuke. It was all he'd ever done, actually, the moment he'd sat himself on that chair.

But while the man hadn't once taken his eyes off Sano, the boy, in any event, had yet to lift his fretful eyes off the mug of chocolate in front of him.

The chocolate. It was the same color as Sano's eyes, yet there was very little else in comparison. The chocolate brown in that mug bore no heat, no spark of fire that glowed and burned in the light of the sun, no beauty that spoke of both physical grace and emotional recklessness.

No.

Only the deep dark brown of Sano's eyes could drive Saitou to abandon all modesty and seize that sulking young man across the table right to him.

Before Saitou had the chance to do anything of the sort (not that he was actually going to), Sano finally stirred from his seat, but only because Katsu had started to push himself away now from the table.

"Where're you going?" Sano demanded, as though alarmed. Perhaps he was alarmed.

"School," was Katsu's matter-of-fact response.

"But it's Saturday."

"Yes. I have classes on Saturdays, you know."

"Don't go, Kats'." Sano held on to his roommate's arm like it was of major consequential emergency.

Katsu frowned at him. "Don't be silly."

Sano leaned harder onto his hold and muttered, "What kinda best friend are you? Don't fucking leave me here!"

"Look, Sano. You'll survive. Now will you let me go before the situation gets any more goddamn uncomfortable?"

Seeing it was no use stopping Katsu, in the end Sano had to relinquish his grip. "You're shit."

"Bye, Sano. See you around, Detective."

Not a minute later, the door to the outside hallway clicked shut, leaving Saitou and Sano all by their lonesome at the table.

All throughout, the only time Saitou ever looked away from Sano was that instant he glanced at the microwave door, just to check the reflection of Katsu stepping out the door.

Even still, Sano simply refused to make eye contact. Or try and say a whisper, for that matter.

Eventually, or unable to help it anymore, perhaps, Sano set his gaze toward Saitou. His face flushed an alarming shade of red.

It was either because he didn't expect to see Saitou staring at him, or because Saitou was staring at him with eyes roving down to the slight part of the robe that bared his chest.

In any case, Saitou took the opportunity to speak first. "I'm --"

"I don't wanna hear any of that shit."

Saitou practically felt his face crimp to a scowl. "I was just going to say, 'I'm leaving for work now.'"

"Oh." Sano's own scowl softened to a noticeable degree. "Well I got something to say to you."

Opting to deal patience, Saitou remained in his seat and waited.

"I'm gonna do it tonight for sure. I'm telling Mr. Shishio I'm out."

A swift, welcome feeling of lightness came onto Saitou. As much as he'd like a more solid guarantee, he had to admit it just the same: Sano's words were all that was needed to make his day.

He uttered nothing, however, not even a grunt to disguise his exuberance. He simply deserted the table and marched straight out of the apartment.

Just as he got past the door, Sano caught up with him. "Saitou."

"What." The man watched Sano's every move as he drew near to stand right before him.

"Here's your badge."

It was only then that Saitou even realized he'd forgotten all about it. Promptly he took the badge from Sano, and placed it safely inside his suit pocket.

When he looked up from his suit Sano had already closed the small gap between them, leaning into his circling arms as he kissed him square on the mouth. Saitou felt sunlight on the nape of his neck, but its scorching heat couldn't compare to the one rising in his groin and in his body at each passing moment of their passionate kiss.

When they broke out of it, after some time, Sano grinned up at the older man. "Hey, lemme drive ya to work. You don't have your car, right?"

"I was going to head home for it. I need a bath, besides."

"Then I'll drive ya home."

Right as Saitou was about to protest Sano scooted back inside, and returned a few moments later jiggling his car keys and shutting the door.

"You're still in your robe," Saitou pointed out, "and barefooted."

"Who cares? C'mon, Detective, you're gonna be late for work!"

"No. You get dressed first." And Saitou dragged the resisting boy back into the apartment, slamming the door fast behind them.

4.

"May I just have a word with you, Soujiro?"

"Of course, Uncle. Is something the matter?"

"Well, your new partner. His name -- Sanosuke, is it?"

"Uh-huh."

"Sanosuke, yes. He has quite a temper, doesn't he."

"Um, I suppose he does."

"Is he, well, all right?"

"What do you mean, Uncle?"

"What I mean is, is this kind of, is this line of, of work, if you will... Are you sure he's suited for this?"

"Oh. I think I know what you mean. You'll have to excuse him; it's his first night, you see. He's not used to this sort of thing yet but I can assure you he will win you over in no time."

"Indeed, now? Let's hope he does."

"I'm very sure of it."

"Mr. Shishio must have only the grandest plans for that boy. Am I right?"

"Yes, you're right. But Sanosuke's only just joined us and he's still healing his hand. Mr. Houji's in charge of him for now."

"Ah, I can see why. That Sanosuke is quite a catch, I must say."

"Really, Uncle? We all think so ourselves..."

+

With all sixteen of the men (save for the two who had just finished) dragging on their smokes all at once, the hotel suite stank strongly and entirely of tobacco smoke. Apparently, it was a hell of a lot for the exhaust vent -- if there was even one -- to handle.

The fumes were not completely visible, at least not in definite shapes or forms (or if they did cast some definite shape or form it faded not five seconds of its creation), and yet they appeared to gather in a hazy, indistinct mist about the men, holding up a turbid sort of veil in the air that kept part of their faces unseen in spite of the full, splendid fluorescence that lit up all the room. Which was why, probably, they even smoked at all.

...or at least part of the reason, anyway.

On one side of the extensive suite, from behind the wide, gold-tinged silk screen divider, Schuldig swept his green-colored eyes on each of the ten middle-aged men across the room. They were sprinkled in droning huddles of twos or threes, all dressed in plain, generic business suits that made them look either older or richer -- perhaps even smarter -- than they actually were.

"That one, broker," Schuldig recited, not for everyone to hear. "Next to him, corporate executive. Same with the other three. That one there, producer. TV and film. The tall one...doctor, ooh. Company presidents, those last two. And of course Mifune." Then he took a long first puff of his cigarette, a smirk wound loosely around the slim white stick.

The slightly taller man next to Schuldig took a short drag on his own slim white stick. "Impressive lot, aren't they."

The way his words sounded, Crawford couldn't probably have uttered any drier remark. Just the same, it made Schuldig laugh, amused.

...Well, either Crawford's remark did, or the sight of that tall, thin man with the towering yellow hair.

With a hand smoothing up and down the front of his dark magenta suit, the bodyguard named Cho strutted his way closer to Crawford and Schuldig, regarding them with his right eye that he retained open most of the time, as opposed to his left. There was a sneer of some kind in his look, and it seemed to grow at each step he took toward the duo, at every slide and brush of his eye upon their spruce black suits.

Perhaps they reminded him of something he did not wholly appreciate, or rubbed him the wrong way. Perhaps he thought the orange shade of Schuldig's hair a little too orange, and/or the cut of his suit jacket a little too cut, and/or the perfect knot of Crawford's necktie a little too, well, perfect.

In any case, it wasn't an entirely one-sided affair, the scrutinizing, for both Crawford and Schuldig held their eyes fast on Cho as well, the only dissimilarity being that theirs intimated a more dispassionate, almost aloof, mien.

Leaving about half a yard's distance between them, Cho put on the brakes right before the pair. "Ye're with Mifune -- his bodyguards, right?" he interrogated, tipping ash from his diminished cigarette before puffing on it anew.

In answer to his question, Crawford gave a nod in the affirmative, though it was a tad too reticent it was easy for Cho to have missed it.

"Lessee now. I gotta feel ya guys up."

After some several seconds, when neither Crawford nor Schuldig stirred a whisker from their stance, Cho iterated and explained his intent:

"C'mon now I gotta feel y'up. This' yer first time 'round here, it's S.O.P. Sorry."

Schuldig gave a shrug of his lean shoulders. "No problem, hey."

Now he was grinning, for some reason. Not at Cho particularly. Just grinning in general.

With no more than a quiet little sound from Crawford, the two then straightened themselves up before the blond, their arms spanned out a foot away from their sides to give Cho access to run his groping hands over their every pockets and patches.

The search, anyway, took only a couple of seconds at most. Cho gave them a strange look. "Just one gun for each ov'ya? That's all ya got?"

Crawford let one hand slip deep into his trousers' left pocket, while the other brought his cigarette back to his lips. "Yes," he said to Cho. "It's all we need." And he said it like it was something Cho had better make sure he kept in mind.

Nonchalantly Schuldig looked about them. "So why haven't they started?" he asked, blowing smoke through the right corner of his lips. "Are we waiting for someone?"

"Nope. All 'em Uncles're here." Cho jerked his head toward the shut double doors on the far side of the suite, where the hulking Senkaku stood guard. "The boys should be comin' out any minute now."

"The brunet one yours?"

"Aa, Sanosuke."

"So I've heard."

"Hey. Touch 'im and ya meet yer Maker."

However malicious this word of caution, it caused merely a wry stretch in Schuldig's grin. "Barking up the wrong tree, aren't we?" he sniffed, glancing up at the seemingly impassive Crawford. "We're just here to keep guard. Save it for those geezers."

Cho crossed his arms rigidly before him and stared at Schuldig with his head cocked, as though trying to measure the look of derision on his face. His olive eye floated to the dark yellow bandanna across Schuldig's brow, and settled absently on the red-tinted sunglasses over it. "Just making sure," he claimed, his gaze shifting left to Crawford. "I don't trust foreigners, ya see."

A smirk, however miniscule, bent the corners of Crawford's lips. "Yet you prefer the color of their hair, it seems like it."

"Hey!" The blond ripped his cigarette away from his mouth. "It's nobody's business what color I dye my hair, okay?!"

And with that burst of huff, Cho turned his stiffened back to the two men and darted away.

"Fool." With a snort, Schuldig resumed his smoking. After one or two puffs, he tilted his stance sideways toward his dark-haired companion, a sly grin cracking open his lips, just not enough to bare teeth. "Can't wait to see the kitten in action, though."

Pushing his glasses up the straight bridge of his nose, Crawford set his gaze beyond the divider, in the direction of Mifune and the other men. "Aa, as everyone else I'm sure," he noted, a small grunt in accompaniment.

Schuldig appeared like he was trying to not snicker out loud. "Don't pretend you're not interested, Brad. You thought he was pretty yourself." His cigarette dangled precariously from his mouth, and his arms were crossed over his chest in a smug, omniscient kind of demeanor.

But it didn't seem to fascinate Crawford one bit. "I thought I was done telling you: you won't get anywhere playing with that boy."

"And I told you I don't give a shit," Schuldig widened his grin, "as long as I get my fun."

"You're just prolonging the inevitable. Don't you get it? -- we can't afford any more delays in schedule."

"Will you quit making it sound like we're always gonna run out of time? This is the first time in six fucking months that I'm actually wild about going to work. Damn it, Brad, you could at least let me enjoy myself a li'l longer. For fuck's sakes it's not like we won't get the job done anyway."

"Perhaps you won't."

"...Yeah. Maybe I won't." And Schuldig wasn't grinning when he said this.

Crawford stared down at the younger man, looking him right in the eye for the first time since they've come in the room. "Unreasonable, as usual," he uttered, sounding rather cold. He breathed out a slow, thin puff, a rough sigh lost somewhere in the white smoke. "All right. Just this once, Schuldig. If you manage to screw it up, I'll see to it life becomes hell for you."

"O...kay," drawled Schuldig. "Sounds fair enough to me." He made a slow nod, though there was neither approval nor acquiescence in his slightly narrowing eyes. "I guess it's a relief you're not gonna blow my brains out."

Crawford's scowling eyes stayed riveted to Schuldig for a good plenty seconds, until he just suddenly looked away, as though there was something in Schuldig's grin that just suddenly pricked his vision. Or, ticked them off, perhaps. He dragged calmly on his cigarette, now appearing to survey the men across the room, for there was really nothing else to see around them at any rate.

Schuldig seized that moment to stare at the older man, to study the strong, fine set of his jaw, the way a few tips of his thick, snarly bangs grazed the tight little lines between his brows, and the steady glimmer of amber orbs behind his eyeglasses. After a while, he took a harsh suck of his fumes...and placed a hand casually, nearly hovering, over his crotch. He gave it a light pat, an almost feathery touch that must be barely felt, as though he was even loath to the contact, which didn't exactly rhyme with the marked signs of arousal in his half-lidded eyes and parted lips.

Whether or not Crawford took notice of this, of how Schuldig could grow a hard-on just looking at him like that, he gave not the faintest sign.

And although it'd seem as though he wasn't paying the younger man the slightest attention, just then Crawford posed Schuldig a question: "Where've you been last night?" though he had yet to toss him a glance again.

Schuldig passed his hand over his crotch in an upward rub. He cracked a smile, or at least it probably would have looked like one, were it not for the discernible wince in his eyes. "Why? You know where I'm off to when I'm not around."

"How many?"

"How many what?"

And finally Crawford returned his eyes to Schuldig. He had that haughty look of his again, that one Schuldig had once quipped made him almost believe Crawford could actually see right through his thoughts. "How many have you slept around with these past four nights?"

All but instantly, Schuldig dropped his hand from his crotch. Whatever grin or quasi-grin there was on his lips was gone in a heartbeat.

There was this remark that Schuldig had made, at some forgotten point in the past five years of their togetherness (probably in the course of an argument that had them pointing out each other's faults), about how no one got him hard faster than Crawford could...the same way Crawford could just throw him in the lousiest mood in an instant.

Schuldig made a face. "God you bore me," he told Crawford, crushing the butt of his cigarette against the nearby wall.

Crawford, however, only repeated himself, in the same cool, haughty tone he had used. "How many?"

"Christ. Why don't I ever wonder. You could always trust me on the riskiest hit but not on something as fucking trivial as how I spend my goddamn nights."

"Just the number. That's all I'm asking."

"I'm not giving you anything until you answer your own question."

Crawford returned a scowl for a scowl, severity and concentration darkening the already dark yellow of his eyes. "If you really need to hear it, then: zero."

Right as Schuldig opened his mouth again for a response, or perhaps even a retort, Crawford slid his eyes away from him. Apparently, he wasn't interested any longer in anything Schuldig had to say.

"The boys are ready, gentlemen."

Ah. This caught their attention.

Together Crawford and Schuldig turned to see a short, balding, bespectacled man in a beige suit, standing before the now-opened double doors to the adjoining room.

From behind the silk screen, they watched the short, blue-eyed boy Soujiro walk out the doors clad in nothing but an open, candy pink coat, followed by the tall, brown-eyed boy Sanosuke. He had nothing underneath his open candy pink coat, too.

"Brown hair..." Schuldig whispered, grinning. He pulled a fresh cigarette out of his suit pocket.

Without a word, Crawford offered to light it for him.

+

Ten after midnight and Saitou was still as wide-awake as an owl.

Well. Until he heard the good news from Sanosuke tonight, sleep would probably be the farthest thing from his mind. If things were going according to plan -- Sano's plan, anyway -- the boy should be off speaking with Shishio about now...

"After our stint," Sano had told him that morning, just after their quickie in the shower and before Saitou had finally left the boy's apartment for work, "I swear I'm doing it, ol' man."

"After your stint?" Saitou had questioned.

"But that's my only chance. I never get ta see 'im 'til after we get back from the hotel."

"All right. Then do it as soon as you get back."

"Just not that soon though. Houji's hosting another of his goddam dinners and I'm expected to, y'know, mingle and shit with the guests and all."

"Then mingle and shit as quick as you can, that shouldn't be too hard."

"I guess."

"And then call me first thing."

"Yep, wait for my call 'round midnight!"...

Just to check over again Saitou glanced up at the living room clock. Eleven past twelve. The phone hadn't rung yet, obviously, actually not once the whole night...

and it most likely wouldn't in another hour or two.

Because, as far as Saitou had come to believe, things just always didn't proceed according to plan...especially considering that this plan didn't directly require his services, and that it hinged principally on a bastard he didn't trust.

Besides, for all he knew, the boy might have forgotten he was supposed to call him at all.

Hn. Still...

Saitou would faithfully stay up by the phone.

In the meantime, as there was nothing particularly appealing to do around the house, and nothing on TV that was worth whiling the time away at the least, he thought he might just as well look over the particulars of his latest case. His former partner Himura had just gone on a special assignment to Hakodate and left a bulk of files in his care, this case being the last one they were supposed to have worked on together.

Thus, settling himself now in his comfortable blue couch, Saitou powered on his slim white laptop on the coffee table, pushing the glowing screen a little away back.

On the desktop, he clicked the blue folder labeled CASE 11X, which opened in a window that contained three more folders labeled with names of men. Politicians, all three of them, whose activities in Tokyo Saitou was supposed to keep track of, for they were believed -- or, for now, suspected -- to be involved, somehow or the other, in last week's attempted abduction of the oblivious prime minister's niece.

So one by one, he scanned the folders. The first label read, Takatori Reiji. Not someone with remarkable clout; just the elder brother of the police commissioner.

Saitou let out a snort. He thought the case -- and Takatori himself at that -- was a gross waste of time. After all, it wasn't really a case of primary urgency or concern, and, as he was technically already transferred from the Tokyo Police Department, he could just simply pass it on to one of his colleagues.

But all things considered, the case piqued his interest nonetheless, if only because the targets, Takatori especially, had ties with Shishio one way or another.

...anyway, or so Saitou believed.

Clicking open Takatori's folder, Saitou studied the long list of documents and, with a scowl, began to read every single one of them. Hmm. This might take him well into dawn.

He stood up to get some coffee.

+

It wasn't unusual for Shishio, once every while, to have quite a few guests over for dinner at his mansion. At one end of the long, elegantly set dining table, about eight of them sat or stood lingering by, exchanging pleasantries and what-not with Houji and Shishio's common-law wife, Yumi. Shishio himself, however, wasn't anywhere to be found, which wasn't entirely unusual either.

At the far, opposite end of the table, isolated from all the adults, sat Soujiro at the head, Sanosuke seated close by him to his left. After arriving from the hotel, the two young men had changed into formal kimono attire just for this occasion -- Soujiro in baby blue, Sano in unspoiled white -- though they might have taken their places at the table to do anything but partake of the dinner.

Soujiro was talking blithely on his cellphone and didn't seem to care much about the food served him, twirling his silver fork in his cannelloni if he wasn't tracing the rim of his wine glass with a fingertip.

Sano, in contrast, was rather attentive to his caesar salad, but while he tried to concentrate on something as easy and uncomplicated as forking each torn lettuce leaf into his mouth, he couldn't. That simple; he couldn't.

He couldn't eat, not even half-eat, nor to a slight degree eat, for he couldn't help checking if Schuldig was still looking at him.

Which he was.

'Fuck.'

Against the broad, stained glass wall that separated the dining room from the indoor fountain of the hall, there stood, some twenty feet away in the left diagonal direction from Sano, the tall, slender man with the long orange hair and green eyes.

Okay, so it probably wasn't Schuldig's fault he was even there at all in the first place. The guy was bodyguard to Mifune, after all, and it just so happened Mifune was one of the guests. As a matter of fact, even the other bodyguard, Crawford, was keeping watch by the distant wall. What simply vexed the hell out of Sano was that Schuldig wouldn't stop being such a dick.

For besides sipping at his glass of wine every once in few minutes, Schuldig had done only two things in the duration of the past quarter hour that he'd stood there:
1.) breathe;
2.) stare at Sano.

Just that. It was much like that time a couple of nights back, that night they had first seen each other, except that this time the asshole just wouldn't take his eyes off Sano, not even for one fleeting moment. Whatever Sano did, however Sano moved, whichever way Sano conducted himself, Schuldig only kept staring... and staring... at him... and only him. If Sano were ice cream on a pavement and Schuldig the high noon sun, Sano would've already turned to vapor by now.

Not that Sano just sat there and took it with good cheer, though. He did try to beat Schuldig off with quite a bit of glaring, and scowling, and looking stern -- even simpering at his suit jacket with scorn -- but after several attempts Sano ultimately gave up, as every time Schuldig merely responded with a smirk that burned him up all the more. For if there was anything at all Sano had learned from this, it was that Schuldig staring was less irritating than Schuldig staring and smirking at him.

Though of course Schuldig not staring was still best of all.

So Sano glanced up once again to check.

No such luck. Those piercing green eyes were still right on him.

"Go away you fucking dick," Sano snarled, under his breath at least, as he knew uttering anything loud enough to wake the dead would only cause a commotion among the guests.

Even though Sano was already used to men staring obscenely at him, as if they were ready to just lunge and lick at his ankles, there was something about the way Schuldig looked that went beyond the norm of flattery, and approximated harassment. How was it that he felt like Schuldig was physically crowding him, when he was fucking twenty feet away?

It was as if the guy was stripping him down outside and in. It was as if Schuldig could figure out more than he could see, knew a whole lot of things about Sano that wasn't any of his affairs to know in the first place.

Sure, he didn't really have to stick around at the table if it all vexed him that much, but Sano knew better than to give Schuldig the notion that his stares were affecting him...that much.

Besides, he was hungry more than anything, really, and thus, in an effort to dine on his savory food and cast aside the distraction that was that green-eyed fucker, Sano glued his eyes to his caesar salad and thought maybe he'd occupy himself listening in keenly on Soujiro. The younger boy had yet to stop prattling on his phone.

"...I can get there by Monday," Soujiro was saying, "or Tuesday at the latest... Hakodate isn't too far away, is it?... I'll get there anyway... No, it shouldn't be a problem..."

Green.

"...He wouldn't have to know, I'll think up of something to tell him... I know, but I wanna see you already..."

Green.

"...It's been three and a half days now, Mr. Himura... I've never missed anyone as much as this... You too? Really?..."

The lettuce was too green. Fuck. Ing. Green.

Slowly Sano looked up from his lettuce leaves, and felt like bludgeoning those eyes to a bright kelly pulp. Those fucking eyes were just too fucking green.

It was sickening.

Sano decided to look to his friend, just to refrain from doing an act uncalled for. "Soujiro."

"Hold on a second," Soujiro said to the other end of the line, before placing a palm over his cellphone and turning to the older boy. "What is it, Sanosuke?"

"Aren't you gonna eat yet?"

"But I'm still on the phone."

"Oh."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah I'm -- no, actually, see, that guy right there, that Mifune bodyguard. He's done nothin' but stare at me since I've sat my ass here."

Soujiro was all too predictable in his reaction: he smiled. (One of these days, Sano was pretty sure, Soujiro was going to hurt himself smiling every single fucking time.) And Sano would've probably deemed the smile reassuring, too, if only Soujiro had even bothered to glance at the man Sano was telling him about. "Maybe he just finds you attractive," Soujiro shrugged, and resumed his phone conversation straightway.

Sano would've gladly argued that he could name at least fifty-five people who found him attractive but had never stared at him for a straight fifteen minutes, but he supposed Soujiro was only going to smile pointlessly at him again. So, feeling totally disregarded, he grabbed his fork once anew and grumblingly jabbed at his croutons. 'Fuck Houji and his fucking dinners anyway.'

And he was starting to despise his kimono now, too; apparently, Yumi had bound the obi sash more than a bit too tightly around his waist.

"Hey, kid."

At the chummy voice Sano turned promptly to see, just beside his chair, his bodyguard standing there leaning down to him. "Cho!"

"Mr. Shishio said ya can see him in 'is room now."

"Oh. Thanks, man."

Cho began to reach for his hand. "Let's go, boy. Don't wanna make 'im wait forever, do we?"

"'Course." In an instant Sano jumped up from his chair, excusing himself profusely from Houji and Yumi and every one of the objecting guests, completely forgetting about the guy with the long orange hair and green eyes.

This was it. Sayonara time.

He was going to tell Shishio goodbye...finally.

1-2. 5-6.