Gold-brown locked on violet, and clashed.

Kiryuu Touma put on a smoothly pleasant expression. "May I help you?"

The boy raised his head; stuck his hands in his pockets. "Just looking." He fixed his gaze back onto the practice mats beyond Touma, and the various students grappling there.

"You interested in karate, kid?"

"Don't call me kid." The boy didn't even change expression. Then he answered, "Not really."

Touma watched the boy watch the demonstration. His eyes were intent, even if he managed to keep his expression indifferent. And Touma was always looking to drum up business for his dojo. Like this demonstration -- he'd gotten permission from local shop owners to hold a demo in Anzen Plaza, showing off the skills of his students and drawing in a crowd for the merchants, too. He gave the boy his most disarming smile. "I'll bet you're interested in taking karate lessons, botchan." He was always interested in lovely young boys, too......and this one more than qualified. But he might be a little on the young side.

The boys eyes sparked dangerously at the word but he ignored the youthful nickname. "Depends. Do *you* teach lessons there?"

Touma lifted a brow, sizing up the boy. In more ways than one. The question had been asked without rancor. And even though he *still* hadn't changed expression, his eyes had locked on Touma with something peculiar in their gold-brown depths. "I do teach lessons. I'm assistant sensei at the dojo." Hot damn, the boy was good looking. With each shift in posture, slight tilt of the head, it became more apparent.

"Not the head sensei?" The boy's eyes flickered.

"Nope. I'm the owner; I don't have time to be head sensei." Touma wondered about that flicker. "So how 'bout it? I'll even give you the first lesson for free." Another surefire way to hook newbies.

"You'd have to," the boy returned, "if the rest of your dojo is as good as these students." And with that he turned, leopard-spotted tail flicking, leonine ears twitching, hands buried in his pockets as he walked away.

Touma stared. "Na-na-NAN desu te!?" But the boy was already gone. His face boiled. "KORA! Are you calling my dojo cheap?" He growled. He fumed. He ground his teeth. Why that little...

"Are? What's this?" He stooped and plucked a battered fold of plastic up off the ground where the boy had been standing. Touma turned it around in his hands. It was a wallet. Ch'. He flipped it open and an ID card greeted him, with the boy's unsmiling face staring out at him. Hn. "Hayama Akito...ga." He fished out the little card with an address and phone number. Double hn. A smirk crept across Touma's face as he considered the look of lively indifference on the boy's face. As if he were insensible of all action around him yet perfectly aware of what was going on. And that flicker.

"Aaaaa~ah...Hayama-kun, is it?" Touma crushed the wallet between his hands. "Be prepared for round two!"

"Ano...Kiryuu-sensei..."

Touma whirled and seized his student in an enthusiastic headlock -- Jinpai, he noted absently. "Eyooo~oshi! I think I may have met my kindred spirit!"

"Augh!" Jinpai writhed. "Sensei, hanase! I'm saving myself for a woman!"

Touma released the boy abruptly. "Not you, baka. That taciturn boy who was just here." He grinned a predatory sort of grin and played with the worn wallet.

Jinpai stared. "That grade-school kid!? Sensei, have you got a Lolita complex?"

Touma smacked him with the wallet. "Don't question your sensei. Finish up here, Jinpai, I've...er...got some errands to run."

"Ehhh~h?" Jinpai eyed him warily.

"Really!" Touma gave him an innocent perky smile. "Sensei is a very busy person!"

Jinpai seemed mollified. "We should be okay here, sensei. Sheesh, sometimes you talk like you're twice your age."

"It's a very serious thing," Touma sighed, "to carry so many responsibilities. Well, ja!" And he trotted off with poised silky-black ears and gossamer bat wings jutting from his shoulders.

"Sometimes," Jinpai muttered, "I don't think sensei is an entirely trustworthy person." He scratched one ear, then shrugged and turned back to the demonstration.

***

Night-time stroked its inky indelible fingers over the hard angles and cooling pavement of the city, winding down from frenetic daytime activity. Touma watched lamps wink into existence one by one, motes against the dusk, as he strolled up the sidewalk with only vague notions of destination. What he'd told Jinpai was true; he had errands, he was just ignoring them. He admired a well-tended box of flowers adorning a trim suburban dwelling. This neighborhood was mostly apartments but a few homes lined the street. Which would it be? Apartment or house?

There had just been something about that boy.

Plucking at a leaf, Touma shredded it between his fingers as he walked. He tried to analyze just what it had been that had made him abandon his demo -- leaving it in Jinpai's capable hands, to be sure -- and slough off his errands to hike miles out of his way to return a wallet to that little bounder who'd insulted his dojo. And managed to intrigue him in the process, moreover. Maybe it was hate at first sight. He recalled the look of veiled interest in the boy's eyes, a moment he'd set on repeat in his mind to pick apart all the cues. Something had awakened his instincts.

Wide lips curved in a semi-sensuous smirk. Lolita complex? He remembered being that age.

He paused to look at the address again, then set out with fresh purpose. There had been a quality to that boy, Hayama. Those hadn't been the eyes of a child. Like himself, someone who'd lived so much so early he'd been turned cynical. But Hayama was too young to be living on his own like he was.

At length after more walking and a false start up the right street, Touma stood in front of a neat, spare dwelling. The Hayama residence was a house, the grounds flowerless but a few trees and some untrimmed hedges adorned the yard. It was wedged between two other homes and the cramped layout made Touma glad for his own half-acre of space.

Now that he was here, he hesitated. That Hayama kid had struck him as uncommonly sharp. Maybe he'd better wait a day or so; make his interest a little more ambiguous.

Touma shrugged. He was here, and the kid would need his wallet. Might as well save himself an extra trip. He made his way up the walkway and lifted his hand to knock, the wallet clutched in his other hand as ostentatious display of the purpose for his presence on the Hayama doorstep.

"Akuma! Akito wa akuma da! You're a devil, Akito, and it's all your fault!" a feminine voice shrieked.

Touma froze. He checked the wallet again, unnecessarily. 'Hayama Akito.' That lovely young boy.

"I can't stand the sight of you!" the tirade continued. "Out! Get out, you akuma -- get out of here; I won't make dinner for *you*!"

He could just barely make out a monosyllabic reply and several short curt footsteps. Hurriedly, Touma backed up the walkway and ducked behind a hedge.

"Akuma, AKUMA!" the shout continued, amplified, as the front door opened, then it was slammed shut.

Touma peered around the hedge hesitantly. Perhaps now really wasn't the time to approach. Then again....well, he'd thought it before; he was already here and the boy would need his wallet and there was no sense in making a second trip.

Hayama Akito stood in the wan lamplight of his front stoop, bangs sheltering his eyes. He stood motionless as the shrill cries from within died out. Anger burned in the pit of Touma's stomach. How dare anyone -- *anyone*!? -- yell such things to a young boy like Hayama? A boy with a sensitive face, though he tried to conceal it with that non-expression.

Suddenly Hayama moved in an explosive fury. One fist lashed out and glass came shattering down to the pavement, stoop lamp quenched with a blow. And Hayama stood as before, head bowed, shadowed blond bangs covering his eyes. Only now, dark fluid dripped down his hand.

Touma grimaced in sympathy. He knew the boy probably didn't even feel the sting of the cut he'd inflicted on himself; from his look he was thoroughly sunk in a world of self-imposed isolation. He felt a strong, abrupt urge to take Hayama away from this place. He sensed the boy deserved better. And *no one* deserved this.

He edged out along the sidewalk as Hayama stirred into motion, one hand buried in a pocket, the bloodied one still clenched. The boy saw him and his head snapped up, eyes not startled but assessing. That very difference was a wrench. His eyes were too old for a young face.

Tentatively, Touma extended his hand with the wallet. "You left this behind, Akito-kun."

Hayama was unmoving. "You saw." His tone was without inflection.

Slowly Touma nodded. "I heard, too." He left the sympathy out, making his tone matter-of-fact. It would only get Hayama's back up, he recognized the signs; the mere sight of pity would be repulsive to him.

Hayama advanced like a stalking feline and snatched the wallet out of his fingers, cramming it in his pocket and turning to go. "Ja."

"Ma-matte!" Now Touma was irritated, for some other reason than lack of gratitude. "You're just going out alone like this?"

A slight shrug answered him. "I do it all the time."

Anger returned in a slow suffusion, not directed at Hayama. He'd like to get his hands on that girl...just five minutes and no witnesses. With two long-legged strides he caught up to Hayama and forced his hands into his pockets. How to phrase it? "Well, don't waste your money, Akito-kun. I may run a 'cheap' dojo but I can afford dinner for two."

A gold-brown eye angled up at him. "You'd buy me dinner? Why?" Suspiciously.

"Maybe I'm campaigning to get you for my student, with that killer karate chop of yours," Touma responded with a breezy grin. "But don't expect me to spoon-feed you, botchan. I'll tie up your hand but that's as far as it goes."

With an incurious air, Hayama lifted his left hand and examined it. The blood flowed more sluggishly now, but it had stained nearly his whole hand with night-blurred crimson. "Don't call me botchan, either," Hayama muttered.

"Akito, then," Touma bowed his head, then took Hayama's hand, pretending not to be concerned. It looked like a nasty cut. "I'm Touma. Kiryuu Touma."

Hayama shrugged. "Okay."

With his grip on Hayama's hand, he stopped the boy from walking. Hayama waited indifferently as he tore a strip from his T-shirt, mourning the loss -- it *had* been his favorite Shazna tee -- and bound up the cut, tying it tightly. Hayama didn't even flinch. They resumed walking.

"Why did you come?" Hayama put the question, in that same calm monotone. Very stoic.

"To return your wallet, silly," Touma winked and caught a flicker as the boy looked at him, then away. "And maybe I just hate losing a potential customer."

Hayama muttered something under his breath. They walked on in silence.

Touma's thoughts were scattering. Had he really heard that? 'Maybe I dropped it on purpose.' In that low monotone, of course.

"So, where do you want to eat?" he asked, making himself sound light-hearted. He supposed he just wanted to leaven the gloom. He knew he wanted to make Hayama feel better, but the chances of effecting such change in one outing were slim. *I do it all the time.* That meant Hayama's home life had been like that for awhile. He'd never wanted to hit a girl so strongly in his life. *Akuma! Akuma da!* "I'd offer to cook you something myself, but my fridge is kinda empty. Any particular place..."

"I don't care."

Sidelong, he glanced at Hayama. The boy really didn't care. He was extremely lucky he hadn't been picked up by some lecherous old man long before now. Touma's lips quirked. Honest, *he* had the best of intentions. But there was something that had sparked in Hayama's eyes, if only briefly, that tugged at an answering portion within himself.

"Yosh'. We'll pick something up, then, and I can show you the dojo. That sound okay?"

"Un," the boy affirmed.

Beside Hayama, he felt positively loquacious.

"Is there anything you'd like?" he tried again. "Yakitori, sukiyaki, udon, tenpura, sushi, soba, bento..."

Hayama's brows twitched. "Sushi..."

Touma grinned. "You like sushi, huh?"

"I don't dislike it."

Aha, he smiled to himself, so that's how it is.

***

"Lots of space," was Hayama's only comment -- after prodding -- to the extensive sprawl of the Kiryuu holdings. It was a large family-sized home on its own entire half-acre, amazing for a Japanese dwelling, and Touma had always felt an empty sort of echo within it, living by himself since his parents had died. On the backyard half of the property, the dojo was situated, a dwelling his grandfather had built with his own hands. He'd been a very traditional man. Touma was glad for the space between his house and his neighbors -- it was quieter and more private. But occasionally lonely, too.

He glanced at the boy beside him and smiled. An insane idea had begun to occur to him, and he couldn't shake it loose. But he refused to let it take root in his foreconscious until he knew more about Hayama, and his home life.

They settled in the wide, bright kitchen and spread out the makings of dinner. Hayama's eyes were intent upon the sushi. Touma concealed his smirk.

As soon as they sat Hayama began to make inroads on the rolls, as he thought. Touma had plenty of questions brimming in his mind but he contained them for the moment; at least until the boy had food in his belly and was feeling more secure. He had noticed Hayama's eyes roaming around the house -- not suspicious, really, just sizing up his surroundings. But whatever he thought remained carefully kept behind an indifferent face.

"So," Touma started with an easy question, waving his chopsticks about, "where do you go to school?"

"Shouei grade school, level six," Hayama replied, in between bites.

Ah. Grade six, so he *was* about the age he looked. Touma nodded thoughtfully to himself and took another bite. "Who was that shrill banshee, anyhow? It's amazing she didn't bring down the house with her decibel level."

Hayama's mouth quirked. "My older sister. Natsumi." He continued to eat.

Touma was losing his own appetite. His own sister called him those names, even to the point of forcing him out of the house? He was determined now. He *had* to take Hayama as a student, if only to give him a source of support outside his family -- which didn't seem to be giving him one. "What about your parents?"

Hayama looked at him. His chopsticks dipped. "My mother died giving birth to me." Unspoken, Touma could hear more -- his sister blamed him for that. *You're a devil, Akito, and it's all your fault!* The boy's bound left hand was clenching where it rested at the edge of the table.

"What about your father?" he exclaimed, outrage seeping in despite himself.

"My father works all the time," Hayama replied diffidently. So he didn't notice how badly Hayama was being treated. Touma's fingers twitched and his thoughts returned to five minutes with no witnesses -- well, unless Hayama wanted to watch.

"Hmph." Touma resumed eating. He had all the information he wanted, for now. He'd show Hayama the dojo and let him make his own choice -- not that he wouldn't encourage him, of course. Heh heh. But no boy belonged in that situation and suddenly for the first time in sixteen years Kiryuu Touma gained conviction. He wanted to make a difference.

They finished off the meal in silence, for the most part. Hayama didn't seem inclined to ask questions about him. Touma let him have most of the sushi. It wasn't one of his favorites, anyhow. On his part, his situation was simple. His parents had died two years ago. He'd finished high school early, and now he ran the family dojo and lived alone and was studying for the entrance exams for the local college, a prestigious name.

"Let me see that hand," Touma commanded after piling the dishes in the sink.

Hayama looked at him. "It's nothing."

"I don't care if you think so," he retorted, grabbing the boy's right hand anyhow and guiding him towards the bathroom. "And I don't want you bleeding on my dojo floor. Unless *you* want to clean it up."

Hayama muttered something under his breath, undoubtedly uncomplimentary, and Touma smothered a chuckle. This one was a hardcase.

He unwrapped the makeshift bandage and cleaned the wound carefully. It wasn't so bad -- long and shallow, the length of the slice accounting for the bleeding. "Well, you won't need stitches."

"Wouldn't have gotten 'em."

"As I suspected," Touma said cheerfully. "So it's a good thing, ne?"

Hayama looked at him. After a moment he spoke, voice quiet and guarded. "Why are you doing this?"

Touma looked right back. There were levels to that question. Why treat his hand, or buy him dinner, or just his general attitude? He decided to play dumb. "Doing what?"

"Being so nice to me."

Touma cocked his head. "Because I like you," he replied thoughtfully, seriously. He knew it was probably something the boy hadn't heard in a long time.

Hayama was mulling that over, from the look on his face.

Touma was too. Maybe he shouldn't have said something like that so quickly. But it was true -- he *did* like the boy. Little stoic that he was. "C'mon, let me show you the dojo." He forebore from grabbing the boy's hand this time.

Outside, it was rapidly growing cooler. Touma lifted his head to peer at clouds gathering in the sky. The air had a thickness to it. At the back of the Kiryuu holdings, the dojo lay, a long wide building with sakura trees planted around it. They entered and removed their shoes.

Hayama looked around with that same seeming indifference, but it seemed more to Touma that he was gathering everything in. "Are you going to show me something?" he asked at length.

Touma grimaced. "Well, I'm not exactly wearing a gi, or anything."

"You *said* you were a sensei," Hayama raised a brow.

"Fine." With a sigh, he glided onto the mats. He had intended to start with one of the simpler kata but found himself moving into one of the more advanced ones. Well, a demonstration was an effective way to gain interest of potential students -- might as well make it worth showing. But damn if he wasn't going to need a shower after this.

Pure and focused, Touma poured his energy into the kata. He could no longer sense eyes upon him. He existed, a body in motion, united with the flow of movement the kata called for until thought and emotion emptied from him to leave him in the place where he was centered. Himself. Breath. Action and response.

He finished and came to awareness again, panting lightly, facing Hayama with curious eyes. The boy's attention was fixed on him. "Well?"

Hayama shrugged. "It didn't look bad."

Touma grinned and restrained himself from ruffling the boy's hair. Kawaii. Then he tilted his head. "Oh, it started raining." The light rumble of rain across the weathered tiles registered only now.

"Were you that out of it?" Hayama said.

Touma snagged his shoes and stared at the rain outside. "When you perform a kata, the only thing that exists is the kata and your attunement to it. Nothing else. The higher up you are, the better you get at it."

"So you feel nothing?"

"Self doesn't even exist as a concept, during that time. It's a part of the discipline," Touma replied.

Hayama seemed to consider this as they started back for the house. The rain was working itself up into a regular downpour and Touma started to jog, sensing Hayama a step behind him. He was laughing as they burst back into the house, and he snagged towels for himself and his guest.

"You like rain that much?" Hayama eyed him.

Touma snickered. "I hate it. That's why I think it's so funny whenever I get caught."

Hayama raised a brow. "You're strange."

"Hmph." He tossed a towel over the boy's head.

One gold-brown eye glared at him but Hayama toweled himself off. Touma just did his best not to admire too openly.

Hayama draped the towel around his shoulders and looked up at him. "I'll do it."

Touma started guiltily. "Do what?"

"Karate."

"Ah," Touma exhaled, then grinned. "I'm glad. I didn't get wet for nothing."

"But only if the first lesson's free, like you said."

"Hei, hei," Touma grinned. "I don't renege on bargains." Even if you are taking advantage of my good nature, you little mercenary.

"Hmp."

Touma grinned wider and moved over to the window. It was coming down in sheets, what the English called raining cats and dogs. "You," he decided, pointing at a blase-faced Hayama, "are not walking home in this."

Hayama took this in stride. "Have you got some other way in mind?"

"Well, no," Touma admitted. "I only have a motorcycle and I'm not taking it out in this."

Hayama shrugged.

"What about your dad?"

"Not home," Hayama replied. "But he walks anyhow. No car."

Touma nodded. "Well, I've got a spare room." Or two, or three. "I don't mind if you use it. You wanna call home, and let them know?"

Hayama turned and looked at him. For the first time Touma felt a chill -- it was a dead sort of gaze. "I don't think so," he replied flatly, and turned away."

Touma was silent. "Eheh." He stepped in front of Hayama and waved a hand before his face. "C'mon, don't look that way; it scares me. I'll show you the bedroom and the bath -- but I get to use that first, ne? -- then I'll leave you alone."

Hayama made no verbal reply, but followed him as he moved down the hallway.

After ensconcing the boy in the lower-level spare room next to his, generously throwing in a T-shirt to use as nightclothes, Touma scuttled to the bath and pondered how the weather was contributing to his nascent plans. Maybe he'd be able to get the boy away from that family entirely. Although he was beginning to doubt if Hayama truly reminded him of himself at that age. At first it had seemed... well, perhaps he was unsettled.

"Ahh..." Touma lowered himself into the bath with a satisfied sigh. Nothing like a good hot soak after kata and cold rain in the evening and eleven-year old boys with calm cynical eyes. He tipped his head back to meet the tiles and let himself forget the day, muscle by unknotting muscle.

"I could almost fall asleep in here," he mumbled, grabbing the edge and beginning to pull himself out. When he started feeling drowsy -- and before he started looking pruny -- it was time to get out.

He stood, dripping, and reached for a towel to dry his hair.

The shoji slid aside.

Hayama stared at him from the changing room, dressed solely in boxers with a towel around his neck. Without changing expression, his gaze traveled down then up. The boy didn't even have the grace to turn red. "Oh. You're still here."

Touma stared back. But he was more discreet about checking him out. He'd do just fine in karate. "Akito-kun," he said in an even tone, "hand me that towel, would you?"

Equally calm, Hayama reached for a towel from the rack and handed it over wordlessly. With unhurried movement, Touma toweled his hair vigorously, tossed his head back, draped the towel around his shoulders very deliberately and left the bathroom, scooping up his clothes on the way out. Unlike during his kata, now he could definitely feel a pair of eyes burning into his backside.

He closed the door behind him. His mouth twitched but he controlled it.

Only once Touma had returned to his bedroom, door shut, did he allow himself to break into uncontrollable howls of laughter. He had revised his opinion.

Hayama was precocious, too.

***

The next day was filled with two classes that he taught, his self-imposed hours of studying, balancing his checkbook, and all the errands from yesterday that he had put off. Touma found himself completely useless for most of it, especially the studying. He had dropped Hayama off at his school that morning and the feel of arms tight around his waist had lingered all day.

He had already been entertaining thoughts of dropping by Hayama's house after school. But going into the spare bedroom he discovered a shirt tossed in the rumpled bedding. Unmade, of course.

"Kono--" Touma exclaimed. The shirt wasn't his. Which meant it had to be Hayama's. Which meant Hayama had worn *his* shirt to school that morning. "Well, that decides it. I'm showing up for my shirt, if nothing else." He shook his head in exasperation.

He wondered if Hayama had done it on purpose.

Remembering the look in that boy's eyes, Touma muttered, "I don't think there's anything that boy doesn't do on purpose." Or perhaps Hayama was going for a pretext, as he did, of getting out of that household and away from that shrilling bitch. Touma hadn't even had to see her to know he was unimpressed with her character.

He folded the shirt and put it beside his keys. And didn't bother to wash the bedding yet, because the way he figured it, Hayama would be using it again before the week was out.

And so he found himself in front of the Hayama household for the second time in two days. He almost pressed his ear against the door to catch any unreasonable shrieks but decided not to tempt fate. Instead he pressed the doorbell.

After a long pause, the doorbell cracked open to reveal Hayama's taciturn face. He looked at Touma. "Yo."

"Konnichiwa," Touma grinned disarmingly.

Hayama's eyes flicked over him. "What do you want?"

"Yare, yare. That's not very nice. I came to give you your shirt back," Touma displayed the garment. It was just an opening wedge; he intended to get in the door and peer about nosily.

The door opened wider and Hayama made as if to snatch the shirt; Touma held it out of range. "Saa, don't be rude -- you should invite me in, you know." And Touma swept his foot against the base of the door, forcing it even wider and slipping inside. "Besides, I need to get my shirt back from *you*."

Hayama exclaimed something and clutched at his sleeve, expression startled. He stood in Touma's way. Touma ducked to his right, feinting, then slipped past his left side. Hayama made a noise resembling a yelp and grabbed him. "Aha, getting affectionate, are we?" The arms loosened and he was able to pry his way free and he glided forward, turning on his heel to snigger at the frozen-faced expression on Hayama's face. Hayama reached forward, trying to snag his sleeve, but Touma was in motion and there was no stopping him. He prowled into the living room, hearing a quiet curse behind him and smirking.

"K'so..." A shattering noise made both their heads snap up in surprise. "You burned it! Akito, I told you to watch it and now it's burned! We've got *no* dinner now!"

Hayama quietly made his way into the kitchen.

"Natsumi, omae--"

"I TOLD you to watch dinner, Akito, and now it's burned and we've got nothing to eat!"

"So what if it's burned?" Hayama snapped. "You--"

"Get out of my sight! It's all your fault, you devil-child; I can't study for my exam, can't eat -- it's your fault if I fail the exam, Akito! You akuma!!" A tremendous crash followed the screech, as if a plate had been hurled to the floor. "I hate you, Akito, you're a demon and you should go back to the hell where you belong. It's *your* fault Mom died!"

Touma snapped. Shirt bedamned, he could buy a new one. No one should have to stand here and listen to such things. No wonder the boy was so quiet, so taciturn, with a family like this. He strode over to the kitchen and stood behind Hayama, rigid in the doorway, as another plate went crashing to the floor.

There was a young girl in the kitchen, no older than fifteen, with dark hair and Hayama's eyes and another plate snatched up in her hands, ready to throw. She froze at the sight of Touma. "A-ano...sumimasen ga, I didn't know we had visitors..."

"Obviously." Touma was disgusted, at the girl and the absent father and the abrupt transformation of her features into a less harsh expression. "You shouldn't be saying such things regardless of my presence or lack of it, ojousan," he told her coldly, and watched her eyes round in surprise. "Hayama, iko. I'll buy you dinner again and save this one the necessity of breaking more plates to prove she can't feed you."

Hayama turned calmly and looked up at him. And smirked. Then ambled towards the door as Touma moved to follow, as the girl remained motionless in shock.

Once again Hayama shut the door with a satisfying slam. He looked at Touma. Touma looked back. The boy's features were calm and contained as ever.

"Sushi?" Hayama inquired.

Touma grinned in slow relief. "Mochiron."

***

"Has your family life always been like that?" Touma asked Hayama over dinner.

Hayama shrugged. "As long as I can remember."

Touma rested his chin on his hand and watched the boy eat. He had a healthy appetite, at least. Eventually Hayama noticed him looking and paused, expression vaguely curious.

"What?"

"How can you live like that?" Touma asked softly. It was beyond his comprehension. He had had a happy, idyllic, loving family life -- up until his parents had died. And even then he'd had Kenji's support and affection until he could handle his own affairs.

Hayama set his chopsticks down. His mouth was pinched and his knuckles white around the bamboo. "I don't consider it living." He looked away, jaw hard. He picked up his chopsticks to eat again. But Touma noticed the slight tremor of his hand.

His mind was already made up. The only thing left was to see what Hayama thought. He offered the boy a smile he didn't see. "What would you say to a game?" His smile was more than a trifle wicked.

Hayama glanced up and was instantly wary. "What kind of game?"

Touma tapped his chopsticks against the side of the box, seeming thoughtful. "Let's see how long we can go until your father notices you haven't come home."

Silence.

He peered worriedly into Hayama's face, now overshadowed with golden bangs as he bowed his head. He couldn't read that expression.

"Are you asking me to live here?"

"Trying to provide you with options," Touma replied, tone light.

"Why?" Hayama's voice was flat.

"I told you, I like you," Touma smiled. He turned dead serious. "And no one should be treated like that, especially not by his own family. You deserve better."

Hayama looked up at last, face outwardly calm. But there was turmoil in the topaz-brown depths of his eyes. "You really want a kid like me staying here?"

"Hmp," Touma shook his head, "really, you're not that much of a kid." Mostly because he was never given the chance to be one. Touma shrugged and picked at another morsel.

Hayama ate the rest of his meal in silence. Once they were finished, Touma cleared the table. He turned from the sink and found the boy's eyes on him.

"I want to stay here."

A grin broke over Touma's face.

"But--" Hayama continued, raising an eyebrow, "what about my stuff? Everything I own is still there. They'd notice if I packed up and left. Maybe."

Touma waved a hand. "We'll get you new stuff. I don't want you to go back there, unless it's truly essential."

Hayama thought about it. He shrugged.

Touma finished cleaning up dishes and turned to find Hayama still there. "Ja, do whatever you like," he waved a hand again. "I'm going to watch TV. You can watch with me, or wander around, or take a bath. Whatever."

Hayama was intent. "Do I still get karate lessons?"

Touma grinned. So that's what was still on his mind? "Sure, you do. I'm sure we can work out a payment plan somehow, if we get you a part-time job..."

Hayama looked startled.

Touma broke into laughter. "Nancha te, Nancha te...only kidding." He waved his hand again.

Hayama was unamused. He pushed himself up from the table and made his way out of the kitchen, towards the living room. At the doorway he paused and looked over his shoulder at him. "So, does this make you my sugar daddy?"

Touma choked and keeled over.

***

"Tadaima," Touma called out, spotting the sneakers lined neatly by the entry mat. It was still a pleasant thrill not to come home to an empty house. Or an empty fridge, he thought ruefully -- Hayama had rifled through his cupboards that first night, turned, and just *looked* at him. They'd gone grocery shopping the next day. He'd had ramen, rice crackers, and a stick of expired butter. Well, and half a carton of pop.

"Yo," floated back to him, from somewhere in the house. He smiled to himself. Hayama hadn't exactly warmed up, per se -- but he could tell the boy was starting to trust him.

Setting down his bag, he headed for the bathroom. He was thinking about going to the dojo, getting in some exercise and maybe starting Hayama on breathing techniques. He stopped in the doorway when he saw the boy already in there, sitting on the edge of the tub. "Aa, gomen -- " He took a closer look. "Hayama, what did you do to your hand?"

Sailing in, he grabbed the boy's left hand, redirecting him to sit on the toilet and he knelt beside him. Hayama's face was carefully expressionless as he examined the wound -- the same one from last week, which had broken open now. And acquired a few scrapes and now the knuckles were swollen. Touma furrowed his brow but bandaged it up without comment. He'd save that for later.

He had just finished applying adhesive tape when he felt something brush his cheek, a light touch -- Hayama's other hand. He looked up, startled, into a tiger's eye gaze that grew closer. And then Hayama's lips were on his.

Touma froze utterly. Hayama's eyes had fallen shut over that unnerving clear gaze. His lips were warm and dry. They moved slightly against his, inciting tingling pressure.

Then Hayama moved back, breaking the kiss, eyes opening to confront him with something expectant and almost defiant in their depths, although his face remained the same. His hand fell to clutch at the edge of his T-shirt. Then his lips parted, an almost pouty expression, and Touma's own responses kicked in.

He licked his full lips, smiled -- more a smirk -- then bent forward, one hand lifting to cup Hayama's face as he ran his tongue along that pouty bottom lip. Hayama sucked in a breath but didn't pull away -- if anything he moved closer. Touma closed his eyes and sucked Hayama's bottom lip into his mouth, drawing him in for a more serious kiss.

He felt Hayama's cold hands creep around his neck and let it cue him, slipping his arms around Hayama's slender figure. And continued to kiss him enthusiastically, working his mouth open, plying him with the simple excitement of moist lips rubbing and meshing. He kept his tongue to himself, for now. If Hayama was as precocious as he suspected.

Eventually they were forced to break when air supply ran low. Touma let his forehead rest against Hayama's for a moment before pulling away.

"Hmp." Something resembling a smirk crept across Hayama's face. "Thought so."

Touma sat back on his heels. "You *thought* what?" He touched his lips. They were still tingling. He smiled at Hayama, an unfettered sensuous expression.

"I've seen you looking," Hayama remarked calmly.

"Oh? Looking isn't a crime. Why'd you kiss me?"

"Well, you put your face close," Hayama looked him straight in the eye. He hesitated. "And because I don't hate you."

"Hm," Touma favored him with a wide grin. He knew what that meant.

"Why did you kiss back?"

"Eto..." Touma rubbed his head, sheepish. When in doubt, go for the honest answer. "Well, I'm hot for your body. And I like you, in spite of the attitude." Maybe because of it, little brat.

"Hmp," Hayama repeated. His lips quirked.

Touma's eyes fell on his hand. His brow furrowed again. "No amount of kissing is going to distract me from what you did to your hand, Akito. Who were you fighting?"

Hayama's gaze was suddenly averted. "No one."

"Un-hunh," Touma's expression was wry. "Are you getting into trouble at school?"

Hayama shifted and didn't answer.

"I suppose I could always go in and ask your teacher."

"NO!!" Wide gold-brown eyes glared at him. "Dame da. I can take care of it myself."

Touma eyed him for several long heartbeats, the gorgeous face turned aside to avoid his gaze, and decided to let it go. Hayama had had enough problems without catching it from him, too. "All right," he said at length. "I trust you."

Hayama's eyes met his, startled.

"I trust you," Touma repeated firmly, touching his cheek. "But if you have any trouble after this, I'm going to look into it."

After a long moment of clashing gazes, Hayama gave him a curt nod. He patted the boy's thigh, relieved.

Hayama touched Touma's lips, briefly, a quizzical expression crossing his features. "That kissing thing...can we try it somewhere more comfortable?"

A smile worked its way across his face of its own volition. Touma purred, "I was hoping you'd ask."

***

Thus Hayama became a fixture of the Kiryuu household. Or, as he referred to it, "shacking up." There were still legal details to be worked out, of course. Since the school hadn't been contacted yet, both of them knew Hayama's father hadn't yet realized his son had made other living arrangements. The sister was probably relieved or thought he was just holed up in his room. Hayama himself was flourishing.

They had gone out and bought new clothes. Mostly for Akito-kun, although Touma had picked up a few things.

On Wednesday they'd started karate. Akito-kun was impatient with the breathing techniques but learning the first kata very quickly.

Touma was reviving his cooking skills, which had lapsed after Kenji had moved out.

Together, they were practicing the fine art of tongue-kissing. Hayama was a quick study there, too.

One balmy spring evening with the windows thrown wide to catch the slightest breeze, Touma and Hayama curled up on the living room couch together after dinner. The TV was on but they were in the process of ignoring it. It was a nightly ritual. There was hardly ever anything more compelling on the screen than the armful of boy lifting his mouth to Touma's.

Ever obliging, Touma wrapped an arm around the slim waist and slid his tongue between the offered, parted lips. Hayama was pressed against him, one hand tangled in his face-framing locks of tawny hair, which he'd used to pull his face into range. He opened his mouth to deepen the kiss and Touma felt the darting, teasing touches of Akito's tongue against his. For someone who seemed stoic, he certainly was eager enough when it came to this. Growing excited by inches, he thrust his tongue into Akito's mouth, almost groaning at the desire to rock his hips, too. Akito's hands clutched at his shirt and drew him down and Touma's hands lay flat at the base of his spine now as Akito's tongue squirmed in his mouth and he prepared to lower him to the couch for a serious makeout session.

So far he'd confined himself to kissing and heavy petting, unwilling to encourage more until Akito himself proved willing. Not that he wasn't given the impression at feeling Akito nudging against his belly more often than not, while they kissed.

Tonight Akito's mouth was insistent and Touma pulled away for a moment, tongue leaving his lips last in a drawn-out caress. He *did* so like to tease. "Want something, do you, Akito-kun?"

Hayama looked up at him, lips fallen open, breath leaving in soft gusts, the heavy-lidded look that made Touma wild with lust and inklings of forever. Instead of a verbal reply he clutched Touma's shirt more tightly and reached up with an open mouth, tongue flickering forth to press against Touma's bottom lip, then inside as their mouths meshed again.

*FLASH* *click*

Touma froze with Hayama's tongue in his mouth. They pulled apart and slowly, as if moving in a surreal underwater ballet, turned their heads to the window. A wide-eyed girl with brown pigtails under a Sherlock cap and a Polaroid camera in her hand was propped on the sill, staring at them. She stared at the film in her hand. She stared back at them. She stared at the film and her mouth fell open.

"AAAAAA~AUGH!"

The blast knocked them back against the couch and tumbled the girl off the sill. She scrambled to her feet, posing, wide-eyed, and flapped the developing picture. "Augh! Hayama no ecchi! Augh! Pervert! Boy-kissing pervert!" Behind her a dark-haired boy peered over the sill, round glasses steamed up.

"Kurata, omae-" Hayama lunged off the sofa for the girl and attempted to wrestle the picture out of her hand. She promptly began dancing around to avoid him.

"Komawari TWIRL!"

Touma raked a hand through his hair, chagrined. "One of your friends, I take it, Akito?"

"She's NOT my friend," Hayama denied vigorously, glancing over his shoulder as the girl bounced and held the Polaroid out of reach.

"Akito-kun..." the boy leaned on the windowsill and wept. "Akito-kun, how could you?"

Hayama gave him an annoyed glance and tried again unsuccessfully to nab the picture. "Tsuyoshi, shut up." He lunged.

Kurata danced out of range again. "Hohoho! Now I have the leverage against you, devil-boy Hayama! Peace will be restored!" She paused and examined the picture again and a great sweatdrop appeared over her head. "Although I'm not exactly sure I want to use this kind of leverage..."

Tsuyoshi continued to weep. "Akito-kun, who knew..."

"Urusai, I said!" Hayama snapped.

Kurata was peering at the picture. Question marks bounced over her head. "Eeee~eh... what are you doing with your tongues?" Hayama made another grab and she skittered out of reach.

"Kissing, baka," Hayama replied.

"Kiss-u!?" Kurata and Tsuyoshi looked simultaneously horrified. "EWWWW!"

Touma thought he recognized the girl now. He'd never seen "Child's Toy" but Kurata Sana also did commercials. He stood up and prowled over.

Sana began to poke Hayama in the ribs. "Oho, so you're into boy-boy loving, heee~eh? Ecchi! Your true self is not a demon but a kiss devil! A boy-boy kiss devil!"

Touma plucked the photo out of her hands. "Let me see that." He glanced appreciatively and tucked it in his back pocket. "Why yes, he is."

"Waaaaah!" Sana spazzed. "Now I have no leverage!"

Hayama smirked at her. "Now you have no proof."

"Akito-kun..." Tsuyoshi moaned, draped over the sill with blue shin curls draped over his head. He wept. "Akito-kun...omae..."

"I was kissing a boy," Hayama completed for him coolly. "I'm living with him, too."

Tsuyoshi burst into fresh tears. Sana's head whipped back and forth between Hayama and Touma. "Eeeee~ehh?" She blinked. She leapt back. She leveled a finger at Touma. "Masaka...that means...you're the sugar daddy?"

"Hnng." Touma whipped an angry glare at Hayama.

Hayama held up his hands. "I didn't say that. Why would I tell Kurata?" His leopard's tail wagged to and fro. "Must be shoujo no intuition."

Sana was eyeing Hayama speculatively. "If I don't tell, will you stop making your monkey henchmen terrorize the class?"

Touma gave Hayama a hard look.

"I've already stopped," Hayama shrugged. "That's why I punched Gomi the other day."

"Sou desu?" Sana blinked. "Hmm...I guess the class has been quieter lately."

Touma smiled to himself. Good thing he'd said he trusted Hayama. The boy had already been trying to improve matters. And that also explained why he hadn't wanted Touma to see his teacher.

"Hmmmph," Hayama buried his hands in his pockets and turned away. "Go home, Kurata."

"Ehhhh~h?" Sana's brown pigtails raised as she peered between the nonchalant Hayama and Touma, who put on his best innocent face. Her eyes narrowed and she spoke accusingly. "You just want me to leave so you can go back to being love-love boys."

*Damn right,* Touma thought to himself.

Tsuyoshi resumed his spate of weeping. "Akito-kun, say it's not true!"

"Hayama," Sana leveled a finger at the boy, "is he treating you right? Regular meals? In bed by nine? Making you brush your teeth and comb your hair and do your homework and chores and making your lunches?"

"Mochiron," Hayama replied. "And he makes out with me, too."

Sana crashed to the floor. Tsuyoshi finally tumbled in a heap over the windowsill.

"I'm going to get you for that," Touma gritted between clenched teeth.

A slight smirk crossed Hayama's face. "How?"

"I'm not sure." Touma pondered. "But I think it'll involve whipped cream and tickling."

Sana bounced up. "Ooh, that sounds like fun!" she beamed. "Can I join you?"

Hayama turned absolutely blue.

"Eheh..." Touma grinned weakly at her. "Uh, it's a boys-only kind of game, Sana-chan."

Immediately Sana whipped a fake beard out of her pocket and plastered it on. "I can be a boy, too!"

Touma coughed. "Not for this."

Suddenly Sana began to buzz up and down even faster than she had been. She looked startled and clapped a hand to her pocket. "R-r-r-rei-k-k-kun c-c-c-calls," Sana managed to stutter out. The buzzing stopped. "Ja, I leave the kiss-devil in your hands, oniisan. Come, Tsuyoshi!" She pointed her finger dramatically to the open window.

"Ja..." Touma waved a hand, bemused, as Sana clumped over to the open window, grabbed Tsuyoshi by the collar, and hauled him over the sill by main force. They disappeared with a few 'ow' and rustling noises. One last mournful 'Akito-kun' floated back to them.

Touma turned to Hayama and sighed. The mood had been broken.

"They saw..." Hayama muttered, almost to himself.

"So..." Touma scratched at his ear, "that girl is in your class, eh?"

Hayama looked at him and inclined his head. "Un."

Touma shook his head. "Gomen yo," he said, then covered a snicker behind his hand.

"Touma..."

Turning, he found Hayama shuffling towards him. With a bemused sort of air he put his arm around Akito as the boy stopped next to him, barely touching. With a gentle hand he smoothed Hayama's hair and held him. "You okay?"

"Touma," Hayama said again, and he felt the clench of hands drag at the fabric at his back. "You'll let me stay, won't you? You won't make me go back. You...you..."

"Akito," Touma pronounced, surprised. Sometimes Hayama's mature attitude made him forget completely that he *was* still a child, in some ways. He slid both arms around Hayama and hugged him tight. "I don't want you to go back. Zettai ni. I'm not going to let you go, zutto, zutto."

"Zutto?" Hayama repeated, sounding dubious or stunned or maybe both.

"Zutto," Touma said firmly, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Hayama was quiet. At length, "okay." His arms tightened briefly, then he released him and shuffled away. "Ja, I'm getting ready for bed."

Touma twitched his nose. The mood had been more than broken; it was too much to hope for a recovery. "Hai, hai. Oyasumi."

There was a joint bathroom between the master bedroom and spare room -- Akito's room, now. It had facilities but no bath, just a big shower. They usually bumped hips around tooth-brushing time and shared the sink. But tonight Hayama was conspicuously absent. Touma finished brushing up his teeth, slipped on his pajamas, sighed, and re-entered the bedroom.

"Yaa!" He nearly leapt back in surprise. Hayama was seated on the center of his neatly turned back bed, sheet drawn over his lap. He looked up calmly as Touma entered the room. "E-eto..."

Hayama raised a brow at him and patted the bed beside him. Touma blinked several times. *He can't mean...all the way??* After a few seconds' contemplation his eyes grew huge and a grin broadened his wide mouth. Heh heh. *I'm gonna get....luu~ucky...* And after a few seconds more of contemplation, he made a hurried circuit of the room and made sure all the windows were fastened and locked, then flipped the blinds. Hayama watched him make the tour with a trace of a smirk on his lips.

"I don't want that Kurata child interrupting our quality time," Touma explained himself unnecessarily.

"Again," Hayama added.

"Un," Touma nodded, sparing a moment for remembered chagrin, then he was on the edge of the bed contemplating Hayama and his sexy little body and the fact that he appeared to be wearing nothing but a sheet. "Um...are you wearing those boxers I bought you?"

A honeyed brow lifted. "You'll find out."

Happily Touma nodded. "So I will." And then he pounced.

Hayama fit into his arms neatly as he tessered the space between them. Well, almost -- such was the speed of the pounce. Only the sheet separated them now and Touma slid a hand beneath it as he bent his mouth to Hayama's. "Decided to take us to the next level, have you?" he murmured, brushing eager lips over skin.

"Aa," Hayama returned, monosyllabic but weaving entrapping fingers into his long face-framing locks to focus Touma's efforts.

"All right." Touma was breathless. Not just at Hayama's unexpected bold move. It was the mere enervating fact that he was going to be this intimate with Hayama, who'd enthralled him so surely it was like sudden obsession. "Just...if you want to stop, tell me. And I'll stop."

"Wakatta," Hayama returned. A brief smile curved his lips, barely. "I trust you."

"Mm." Touma nuzzled along the curve of his neck, hand delving below the sheet over slim taut thighs. He was delighted. Of all people, Hayama...

Well, and... "You're *not* wearing boxers."

"Hn." The little grunt wasn't nearly so disconnected as it seemed. Hayama was in his arms and pressing against him, hands wandering over Touma's back and hovering, not quite entering, his top. Touma kissed his throat and moved lower, beginning to work his hand gently between Hayama's tensed thighs. "Ahh..." Hayama's head fell back against the pillow, mouth opened over nearly noiseless sounds of pleasure.

Touma played his tongue over his young love's chest, latching onto an already-primed nipple, enjoying the almost distressed noises he wrung from Hayama. This was really the only arena, so far, where he'd been able to make the self-possessed young man lose control. Happily plotting future wickedness, he grasped Hayama in a firm hand and managed him to the same pace of breathless kisses.

It wasn't long before he came, clinging tight to Touma's neck, eyes scrunched tight as he rode a thunder-pulsing wave of pleasure. Hayama shuddered for several moments longer, curled around him so determinedly it was as if he was afraid Touma would pull away and leave him. At last one golden-brown eye opened, almost hesitant.

"Was it okay?" Touma was anxious. He knew outside of a wet dream or two and possible experimenting, he was Hayama's first. It was an unusual sensation.

The other eye opened. Hayama began to smile. A relaxed, languorous smile.

"Akito," Touma half-laughed, crushing him into an exuberant hug. "Liked it that much, didja?"

"Un," Akito said to his collarbones. He pulled away slightly, brow wrinkling. "What about you?"

Touma had been wondering the same thing. He remembered the first time *he'd* gone all the way...but even though he'd only been a little older than Hayama at the time, he wanted to wait before penetration. And he very much doubted Hayama would yet be up to the task of pleasuring him orally.

"Just kiss me," Touma murmured, easing him back against the sheets. He settled between Hayama's lean, naked -- sticky -- thighs and pulsed subtly. Hayama's eyes widened but he reached up for a kiss, hands fisting at the half-open pajama top.

"Ma-matte," Hayama protested after a particularly urgent shove. Touma stilled immediately, eyes half-closed with the lust running unchecked through his veins.

"Gomen--"

"Aren't you even going to get undressed?" Hayama demanded, aborting his half-uttered apology. He looked very nearly accusing.

Touma bit down on his lip to stifle laughter. "Hei, hei." He eased to the side and out of his pajamas, tossing them carelessly to the floor. When Hayama decided to do something, he went and *did* it, full throttle. Then he turned to Hayama again and the boy met him eagerly, settling hands on his hips, eyes falling shut as Touma began to rock against him, locked to insistent rhythm.

He was surprised -- a little, not very -- when Hayama gave a little groan and he felt return hardness dig into the crease where thigh met torso. Their mouths were uncoordinated but urgent. Hayama's fingers clawed at his hips, urging him on, voicing something wordless and desperate.

"Akito!" he panted, thrusting harder, desperate to reach the golden peak just within reach...just there...

Akito responded by clamping his slender-strong legs around his waist, head tossed back, driving Touma into a frenzy. They succumbed together, holding tight, rising swift in a molten fountaining of shared passions.

This time, he noted with satisfaction, Hayama grayed out. He smirked to himself and arranged his length beside Hayama's sprawled body, touching his cheek lightly. Eventually the boy stirred and his eyes opened languidly and he looked at Touma.

"I'm going to have to try and make you smile more often," Touma kissed his cheek.

They fell asleep curled together.

***

Warm honeyed-gold light poured in from the chink in the curtains, reminding him of the color of Akito's eyes as Touma opened his and stretched lazily. Its skin-kissing warmth was more benediction to him than harsh awakener and Touma knew at least half his change of attitude was due to a certain not-quite-charming but very captivating individual. *Getting up in the morning is a lot easier to face with someone _to_ get up to,* he rolled out of bed with a smile. He padded over to the curtains and pulled them open, smile a trifle wicked as Akito stirred and a discontented crease appeared between his brows. Then he rejoined Akito in bed.

With light touches smoothed over his brow and cheek, Akito's eyes eventually opened. He scowled at Touma as if to reprove. "It's Saturday."

"Sou desu," Touma pressed a kiss to his nose, "and today is also the day we visit the child welfare office, remember?"

Hayama drew away, wrinkling his nose, then his body stilled as the words made impact. At once Touma was next to him, an arm around him. "Don't worry, we're not going to lose," he soothed. His tone hardened. "Besides, it's been nearly two weeks. I'd call that criminal negligence and it's probably enough by itself."

An arm wound itself around his waist. "You'd better be right."

"I am, I am!" Touma said cheerfully. He smacked Hayama on the bottom and the boy leapt and gave him a dagger-dire stare. "Get dressed and make your room look lived-in."

"It's not as if they'll be inspecting today," Hayama muttered in return on his way towards the bathroom.

"Hai, hai," Touma said, good-natured. "And wear something decent."

A baleful eye peered around the corner. "You picked all my clothes out."

Touma blinked. "So what're you saying?" He put on his most piteous expression.

After breakfast they set out for the Public Service building. Hayama's demeanor was outwardly calm but he could still tell the boy was unsettled by the arms tight around his waist during the motorcycle ride, cheek pressed against his back. Touma had no doubts. He couldn't afford to. He had dug up some character witnesses (and hoped he wouldn't have to use them -- one of them was Sana-chan) and had hired a private detective to document Hayama-san's neglect, for his corroboration. It *should* be enough. But he'd never sued for custody before.

The Kiryuu family lawyer met them in front of the building. Touma had his own character witnesses lined up to testify for *him,* including the head sensei at his dojo, but he and his lawyer hoped that the evidence they'd obtained of neglect, and Akito's own desire to be with Touma and not his father, would be enough.

Akito was stone-faced through the introduction. Good thing he'd expected no less.

Waiting for their appointment was the edgy part. Hayama did not fidget; he barely changed expression as Touma watched from the corner of his eye. But he did notice him grow paler as their time approached.

"You're sure about this, botchan?" their lawyer, Shigure, put the question to Hayama as 'Kiryuu' was called.

A gold-honey eye angled through him. "Don't call me botchan," was Hayama's sole reply.

Shigure looked at Touma, who shrugged. "Don't call him botchan."

Shigure sighed and led them up to the bar. "I *was* supposed to ask."

The slender boy was rigid beside him as they stood before the bar and Shigure began presenting their case. Touma bit his lip and wished he could reach out and take Hayama's hand.

"Kiryuu vs. Hayama -- Kiryuu Touma-kun wishes to sue for custody of Hayama Akito-kun on charges of criminal negligence by his family."

"Sou da?" The judge's eyebrow winched up.

Touma gave him a firm nod and let out a cautious breath. Shigure had warned them that a lot would depend on the kind of judge they got -- and that they'd probably have a better chance with a woman. This one was a man, and young, about mid-thirties. Touma watched his face and expression as Shigure presented the case and their evidence.

The judge began reading the dossier their detective had prepared. One brow shot up. It was slowly joined by the other. Touma began to harbor stronger hopes.

"You have character witnesses, young man?" the judge leveled a stare at him. "For yourself, and the boy's father and sister?"

"Yes, sir," Touma nodded, gaining confidence.

"Boy ja nai yo," Hayama murmured beside him, nearly inaudible.

The judge leveled a piercing stare at Akito, who returned it with equanimity. "Do you want to live with Kiryuu-san, Akito-kun?"

"Un," Akito inclined his head. He paused. "Touma is like a brother -- one who loves me."

The judge looked at Akito for several measured moments. "We won't need them," the judge waved a decisive hand. "I don't want the boy going back to that environment. We'll initiate proceedings immediately, and Akito-kun can go home with you, Kiryuu-san. You should expect Child Welfare representatives to verify your suitability within five days."

"And the father, sir?" Shigure persisted respectfully.

"Hayama-san may attempt to make amends. But the choice is Akito-kun's. If Akito-kun wishes to return to his father --"

"He won't," muttered 'Akito-kun.'

"--then Hayama-san must undergo a period of supervised care and evaluation. If Akito-kun remains with Kiryuu-san, then Hayama-san is prohibited from further interference although he may still have visiting privileges," the judge pronounced.

"Doubtful," Akito voiced under his breath.

The gavel smote wood with a resounding 'smack.' "That's my final ruling. Next case."

They made their bows. "Arigato gozaimashita." The next case advanced.

Shigure stayed with them while they filled out the necessary forms (in triplicate, of course,) and signed all sorts of agreements and disclaimers. Both Touma and the lawyer read through every form carefully, which made everything take about twice the amount of time it should've. But the upshot was that both of them were satisfied. Hayama, of course, still looked indifferent.

Outside, they shook hands with Shigure. "You lucked out," the lawyer remarked. "Judge Kyoko is young and has a daughter about Akito-kun's age. He was totally on your side."

"I'm just glad we won," Touma grinned from ear-to-ear. "And so quickly. I didn't think it would be so easy; I thought we might have to go to trial."

Hayama was white-lipped as the lawyer left.

"Hear that, 'boy'?" Touma mimicked the judge's term. "We won!" He risked life and limb and bent to hug Hayama tight. His lips touched his ear, barely. "You're all mine."

"Ahou," Hayama declared, pushing him away, but there was an upward curve to his lips, and a relaxed look to his posture.

"...and what was this 'niisan' business?" Touma gave him a long look through wicked eyes. "Ano ne..."

"He bought it, didn't he?" Hayama interrupted him, lifting a cool brow. "Besides, you do love me."

"Why...you..." Touma spluttered, shaking a fist. "Don't assume too much!"

Hayama shrugged.

Touma grinned at him somewhat foolishly for a moment longer. "C'mon," he urged his young lover, patting his shoulder. "Let's go home."

"Home," Hayama repeated, looking thoughtful. He tilted his head up at Touma and there was the barest glimmer of a smile touching his lips. "Okay. Let's go."

***

Touma pushed open the back door, loosening his obi. "Tadaima," he called out, mopping vainly at his perspiration-damp forehead with the hapless black obi. "Oi...Akito?"

"Yo," came the disembodied reply.

Touma made for the bedroom, peeling out of his soaked gi-jacket on the way. That was one thing he hated about teaching the third-degree black belt class; although it was a very small class, he definitely worked up a sweat. And dammit, that meant a shower before sex -- Akito wouldn't have him as he was. "A-ki-to," he called out advance warning. "Where are you? I'm horny." It came out sounding a lot more plaintive than he'd intended.

"You're always horny," came the instant reply, sounding bedroom-wards. "I'm in the bedroom."

"Oh, good." That made things easier.

Touma shuffled into the bedroom and it took his vision a moment to adjust. He shook his head. He stared. It started to register. "A-a-a-akito...."

Hayama calmly lifted his head from a shounen ai -- no wait, he didn't have anything that wasn't graphic -- a *yaoi* manga. "Okaeri."

Touma blinked. Arranged across the floor at the foot of the bed were a variety of sex-toys. More than ten but less than thirty, the exact number of which Touma had lost count. He picked his jaw up and re-hinged it. "Wh-wh-WHAT are you doing with those!?!?" he demanded.

"I was looking around," Hayama said. His eyebrow lifted in that familiar almost insolent expression. "You *said* I could make myself at home."

"Not in THAT drawer, you can't!!" Touma said, almost hysterical. K'so! He seriously doubted Akito knew even half of the names of some of those devices.

The eyebrow cranked up higher. "There was no time limit or boundary. You just said I could look around."

"Yes, but--but--but--" Touma became aware he was sounding like a broken record, and shut up.

Hayama poked at one device and lifted it by the base. "So what's this one?"

For the first time in seven years, Touma found it was possible to blush furiously. "You damn well should know what that one is," he replied, unaccountably embarrassed. He'd forgotten he had so... well, so many of them! Kenji had never minded and a few of his other lovers had actually been excited. "It looks exactly like what it is and it does exactly what it looks like."

"Hmp." Hayama set it down.

"Now get out of those!" Touma spazzed. "I'm hot and I'm sweaty and I just want to take a shower and make out; is that so much to ask? --*Without* the sex toys!!"

Hayama snorted. He picked up a large-ish stack of yaoi manga. Then he began to sidle past Touma on his way out of the room. Before he got past, he stopped and flipped open the top manga which he'd been reading. Kizuna. "Oi. See that?"

"Un," Touma nodded. It was barely censored and hard to miss.

Hayama's gaze was forthright and very intent. "We're *not* doing everything, are we, Touma?"

Touma's embarrassment, which had just begun to creep back into whatever place it had lain dormant for seven years, crashed back down upon him full-force. "Uh...eto...well, that is..."

"I know you're not going to say I'm too young."

"You're not!" Touma hastened to reassure him. "Hontou ni. You're not too young, Akito. I just didn't want to spring everything on you all at once." *Which is mostly true, but I was also slightly worried about size.*

Hayama nodded. "Well, tonight I want to do everything." Then he turned and left the room, toting the yaoi manga with him.

Touma shook his head ruefully at the departure, raking a hand through sweat-tangled hair. "He is a LOT more precocious than I thought." Then his gaze fell on the floor again.

The sex toys and magazines were still scattered across the carpet.

"HEY!! AKITO!!" he blasted. "Get back here and clean this up! You're the one who dragged it out!"

"...I'm not touching it," came the decisive reply. "They're *your* sex toys."

"You must've touched 'em to get 'em on the carpet, baka!" Touma yelled back.

".....I used Kleenex....."

Touma glanced at the trashcan. Sure enough, there was a crumpled mass of Kleenex half-filling the can. This was ridiculous. "YOU dragged them out!"

"....Yeah, well *you* bought them."

This carried heavy overtones of 'you'd better not buy any more' to it. Touma grimaced and resigned himself to the inevitable. Then he perked. He was virtually certain of getting lucky after his shower, now. With a lot more enthusiasm he began chucking items at the open drawer. And thought about getting a lock.

Better yet, might as well get rid of 'em.

Which might have been Hayama's point in the first place.

***

Like a phantom touch finger-walking its way up the back of his skull, Touma could feel Hayama's gaze crawling over him. He shrugged. He sneezed irritably. Eventually, he turned to face the indomitable tawny eyes.

"What?" Touma demanded, just barely managing not to snap.

An unblinking gaze met him, imperturbable. "Are we going to do it now?" This spoken with the aplomb of someone requesting a walk in the park.

Touma fought the urge to stutter. "What!?"

"Well, we're not doing everything," Hayama noted. His eyes were scintillating as he availed himself of Touma's lap. "Don't you want to?"

"U -- un." Now Touma stuttered.

Of course, that might have something to do with the completely sexy, entirely willing -- totally irresistible -- boy who had latched his arms around his neck and was hitching himself close.

"So?" Hayama shifted right *there*. "Why don't we?"

Touma gulped and reviewed his reasons and tried to think if Hayama would consider a single one compelling enough to refrain. So far he was coming up zero. Trying the age card would only earn him a scornful look... Touma continued along that thought track and his mouth almost dropped open. That was it! That was why he resisted the notion so strongly! He didn't want his own record to be outdone by his squirming lapful of eleven-year-old boy!

Instead of replying he bent down and claimed Hayama's mouth. The lips were slack in shock for a heartbeat, then Akito was kissing him back eagerly. With masculine directness, Akito freed a hand and plunged it into Touma's pants. No question what he was after!

"All right, I want to," Touma breathed, nibbling on Akito's neck. His hands rested on the perfectly shaped buttocks and he could feel heat burn-kindling his loins.

"Good," Akito responded, voice thick in his throat as he tilted his head to allow Touma better access. "So we *are* going to do it now."

"Hai, hai," Touma 'resigned' himself to the unavoidable and tasted the hollow of Hayama's throat while the boy's hand grasped him firmly and rocketed him to peaks of pleasure.

With a sense of inevitability, Touma clutched Hayama deep into his hips. Hayama made a noise in his throat and regarded him with impatience. "Have you got any idea what you do to me?" Touma whispered, rendered hoarse by that glance, dropping a kiss to a golden shoulder bared by Akito's tank. He chuckled, somewhat unsteady, as he realized what he'd said paralleled Kenji's words to him a handful of years ago.

Akito nestled against him in return, hand still busy. "And you're going to do something about it, right?" His tone, his expression, were so calm-schooled. He was only betrayed by the flush painting his cheeks and the breath that sped up to match the accelerating thump in Touma's chest.

"Un," Touma acceded, more readily this time. The very first night, he'd told Hayama his resolve -- to take things at Akito's pace, and not to push him too far, or fast, or beyond the bounds of what he'd asked for. But here he was, asking -- and he very definitely knew what was what. Touma's eyes gleamed. He certainly wasn't equipped to resist. And he was falling so rapidly for Akito it was a touch of the unreal. He, Touma, who seduced and flirted and bedded, and kept his heart distanced. "Because you want to, Akito -- and I definitely want *you*. And you know that if you want to stop --"

"I won't." Saying this, Akito took a lock of his hair in hand and directed his mouth where he wanted it.

Silenced (and happy) Touma resumed kneading the firm-round buttocks in his hands, eliciting groans from each of them that resonated through their locked mouths. They moved in unison, slow and striving. When they parted, excitement was doubling despite Touma's intention to keep the pace gradual. He grasped Hayama's hand and bent his attentions to his neck, eyes casing the room over his shoulder. Akito had chosen to accost him in the living room -- perfectly suitable for their indulgences so far, but moving beyond heavy petting would require the more suitable arena of a bed. Besides, before Akito he hadn't had a live-in lover since Kenji, and he'd fallen out of the habit of stashing lube in the cracks of the sofa.

"Nanda," Hayama mumbled against his lips as he stilled the boy's hand.

"We should move this to the bedroom," Touma mumbled back through broken-up kisses, heart exulting in anticipation.

"Hai," Hayama agreed without a trace of hesitation. In fact, with a slow tilt of his head he licked his lips, utterly wicked, expression smoldering. Touma groaned as he made a move to stand and his knees water-wobbled. Hayama's legs cinched around his waist. "Iko."

"How do you expect me to go in this condition?" Touma half-growled, knees still puddling.

Hayama slanted him an oblique look. "You'll have to, unless you want to do it right here."

"Zen zen dame," Touma said, adamant, recalling the instance only a few days back on the couch involving half-naked foolery and the messy conclusion.

A trace of a smirk appeared.

"You're wicked," Touma's accusation turned into a throaty moan as Hayama's hand vanished down his pants again. "Stop, not here!"

Touma found he had to concentrate incredibly hard on *not* thinking about what Hayama wanted of him. Hard, hard...couldn't think about that either! He pushed Hayama off of him -- gently, with respect for a certain portion of his anatomy -- and gathered the boy into his arms. "Iko," he whispered, rough and hungry.

"Aa," Akito assented, twining around him. Lips brushed over his mouth and cheek; legs pulse-tightened around his waist.

In a soundless fritzing burst Touma's mind went wild. He didn't need to jumpstart his imagination; Akito was here and wrapped around him and his libido had turbo-charged in seconds! There was only one thing left to do.

Get to the bedroom. Fast.

He stumbled up the hall, Akito in his arms -- he could've sworn the hallway had never been this long, or Akito so heavy -- trying not to think about tumbling to the bed doing unspeakable things to his young love. Things that might've waited for a birthday present, perhaps, but were equally delightful now. And why wait? When Akito wanted this just as much!

Akito's hand fluttered under his untucked shirt and he groaned, bumping into a wall. "Not yet -- don't distract me until I get there!"

"Hmp." This was compounded by the dart of a tongue against his ear.

"Ah -- a -- Akito!" he tried to chastise, knowing it only came out sounding desperate. His knees weakened and he braced himself against the wall he'd bumped against.

"Hurry up then, baka."

Touma nodded, hair brushing against Hayama's and obscuring his vision. He lurched into motion again and devoutly tried to divert his attention from the perfect buttocks in his hands.

He maneuvered them through the hallway and was filled with an absurd sort of triumph when he tumbled Hayama to the bedspread, following a breath later. Hayama was like a live wire, plastered to his skin and spreading touch-tingles everywhere hands and bare flesh pressed to his.

"You're going to get exactly what you want," Touma promised with a wicked wink, licking a finger and opening Hayama's pants just enough to allow access.

"Unn..." Now it was Hayama at *his* mercy, sprawling back boneless against the pillows, gold-amber eyes half-closed and laden with pleasure and surprise. Until now Touma had been mostly content to let his younger lover explore, taking stock of what pleasured him and how he wanted Touma to take care of him. At this point it was entirely Touma's game. Akito knew what he wanted -- but Touma knew how to give it to him, and it was time to play expert.

Moving up to cover Akito's mouth, he let his free hand trail along the back of Akito's still-clothed thigh. Then he parted those lips with his tongue. Everything until now had been foreplay, but he'd garnered a mental map of so-sensitive zones. With a low, guttural noise Akito arched beneath him, pelvis squirming to a restless, frantic beat, hands crushing fingerfuls of his shirt. Touma sighed a response into his mouth -- they were almost beyond words -- and replaced his hand with lowered inches of his weight, settling between Hayama's quivering thighs.

"Ohh." The raptured sound broke from both of them, as their bodies and hard lengths fitted together. Touma flexed and was both satisfied and enflamed by Hayama's response, as he yoked arms around his neck and locked his ankles at the small of Touma's back, giving him greater leverage. "Mada ja nai...not yet..." Touma managed to get out, wrenching his mouth from Akito's.

Hayama's eyes were feverish-bright and glittering up at him. He'd better do it now and quickly before Akito killed him or came in a hasty gush. And then killed him.

Easing to the side, Touma finished Akito's pants with a few quick tugs and started a clothing heap at the foot of the bed. Where was his resolve? He wanted to go slow, to make sure Akito enjoyed it... A brief glance at Akito's flushed face told him that he'd enjoy it very much if he expedited matters and got inside him soonest. About five seconds ago at the latest.

Disentangling him from the underwear, Touma caressed Akito's pumped-up arousal and considered the intimate kiss. Regretfully he decided it would send him over the edge too soon; maybe later. For this first time it might be more intense if he hadn't come yet before he entered him.

Touma's clothes hit the floor in record time and he reached for the bedside drawer, gritting his teeth, trying *not* to vividly anticipate the feel of Akito beneath him and around him and moving together in perfect age-old symmetry.

He set the little jar to the side and knelt between Akito's thighs, braced, stroking inquiring fingers against his face, asking for a kiss. And Akito's eyes simmered up at him, catching and holding his gaze, making his stomach tighten with the look -- this was it, it was what Akito did to him that was all the reason and a promise between them and more. His eyes invited. So Touma bent. The kiss was everything advertised; full soft lips, a press of skin, a heated weight reaching up to meet him. Hayama's hands tightened over his bare back, fingers kneading the muscles along the spine as Touma relaxed against and into him.

Touma kissed the pulse in the hollow of his throat, breath uneven and gusting. Flicked his tongue along the edge of his jaw. Sucked the lobe of Akito's ear into his mouth and was rewarded by a quick almost pained intake of breath and arms tightening around him. A growl clawed past his ear. "Soon."

Touma fought the urge to grin, successfully, and retrieved the jar, coating his fingers carefully. He'd never been anyone's first before. Sometimes he lost himself in Akito's self-assurance. He whispered loving nothings in Akito's ear as he probed with utmost gentleness between his lover's nether cheeks; the arms tensed only a little and Akito nuzzled his cheek. Encouraging him? Impatient? Maybe overcoming fear. He inserted a finger, slow, and Akito sucked in a breath but did not clench.

Touma captured his mouth before Akito could bite through his lower lip, and their tongues twined, starved at the banquet but not lusting food. Touma's tongue thrust and it was all he could do not to echo with his hips. He did with his finger, though, going slow and feeling Akito stiffen, the tight ring pulsing around his finger, the sense quickening Touma almost to spilling with a few swift jerks then and there. He could barely wait. He eased back, breathing hard, and pressed a second finger into Akito, careful as the first. Akito's fingers worked frantically against his flesh for a moment, but no sound escaped him.

"You okay?" his breath melted over Akito's ear.

After a moment Akito nodded and relaxed a notch, as Touma tried to disconnect his drive entirely and make the focus of his universe *not* revolve around the tempting heat surrounding his fingers, tight and ready and sending sharp sensation direct to his groin. He bit his own lip and moved his fingers in a shallow mirror of the thrusts he desperately wanted to enact with something more satisfying.

Akito's reaction was explosive. He gasped, a tearing sound, as his hips spasmed upwards and his half-moon nails dragged a painful track down Touma's skin. "Touma!"

Touma grimaced. If he prolonged it any more, it would be too late -- for both of them!

He eased back, still spreading gentle kisses over Akito's insensible face as the boy lay panting, a small sound leaving him as Touma's fingers made exit. He dipped his fingers in the jar and used the sweet-scented cream this time to coat his aching arousal, making it possible to enter his young lover smoothly and less painfully. Fingers were nothing compared to the real thing.

"Touma," Hayama's hands clutched at him, almost painful. Apprehensive.

"Shh," Touma's kiss answered him, soft over his lips, then nibbling delicately. "Do you want me to stop?"

Akito's face was flushed. "Do it now. *Now*."

Touma understood. Part of it was nerve. He'd been a little apprehensive, too, when it was his first time. Trying not to groan, he hooked Akito's legs up and positioned himself at the tight hot bud of his lover's entrance. They were both trembling. And just as Akito's scrunched-tight eyes began to open, one golden-brown eye peering first, he pressed forward, the blunt head of his erection parting flesh around it, a surprised grunt wrenching its way from Akito's throat as Touma sheathed himself fully in one burning stroke.

"Touma!"

Brow furrowed, Touma could only answer with a tiny, pained noise. It was taking all his willpower not to settle immediately into a demanding, piston-quick rhythm. But that would hurt Akito; worse, it could tear something. Slow. Slow and hot for both of them. A drop of sweat beaded down his face and spattered Akito's dewed golden skin. He clenched the pillow behind Akito's head in both hands and watched as the tight pained lines etched in his lover's face eased, settling into something a little confused, and expectant.

"You okay?" he whispered, unable to help a small, spasmic quickening of his hips.

"It -- unh! -- it feels...okay..." Akito returned, eyes half-closed as he echoed the movement. He gasped and they both began to rock, slow and experimental. Akito's mouth fell open and Touma kissed it, hungry and desperate. Wanting more.

For long heartbeats they were entwined, sharing breath and the give-and-take of flesh. Akito was more than quiescent beneath him; he strove to return each small movement and then, at last, his hands tightened on Touma's nape and he thrust upwards, sharp and hard, forcing Touma's length deep inside of him.

"K'so!" Touma moaned. He braced himself and began a series of slow shallow thrusts, buried almost completely, Akito's face languorous beneath him and only driving him on.

"Touma!" The sight of Akito's face alone was enough to bring him off, all heavy-lidded smoldering eyes and open, panting mouth, swollen from kissing. But something tightened between them, Akito's hardness stroking against his belly, both of them speeding up and the rhythm of their hips urgent and deeper. Touma began to shudder, pumping into his younger lover in a fluid body-tremor, covering Akito's mouth once more as his tongue plunged between parted lips to the same pace. He felt sticky warmth blooming against his stomach and smiled against Akito's mouth, closing his eyes as they both came to rest.

Touma must've grayed out, because the next thing that pierced his awareness was...

"Oi." Hayama's flat voice reached him. A hard fist indented his arm. "Oi, get off me. You're crushing me."

So much for romantics.

***

Akito scrutinized the note carefully, as if he hadn't already done so three times. It had been crumpled at one point, and then smoothed out again, the whole lettered in Touma's concise handwriting. Akito's golden-brown eyes traveled from the note to the covered dish of sushi and soba noodles on the counter. Then, very carefully, in a calculated movement he drew back his leg and kicked the side of the kitchen counter. Then froze and looked down. House slippers.

The upshot of the note was that Touma was gone for the night, hauled off to a bar or two with his dojo buddies to make the rounds with sake or beer or whatever it was older men drank. The fact that Touma was underaged hadn't seemed to deter the other sensei and their buddies in the least. Akito surveyed the covered food coolly. Even sushi wouldn't assuage his wrath.

Like an affronted cat, Akito did everything possible against Touma's house rules to linger as proof of his displeasure once the older boy returned. He ate dinner on the living room couch and left rice crumbs strewn everywhere; he left unfinished homework scattered over the kitchen table, and he left his bathroom slippers lying out prominently on top of Touma's jacket, which he'd knocked off the coatstand in passing. Did everything, in short, but pissing on his bed.

He was determined to stay up at all costs until Touma returned, however late the hour. His biorhythms were against him. Akito's eyelids dragged with each successive hour after ten, urging him to sleep. At last, he fell asleep curled up on the couch some time after midnight.

*tok tok tok*

Eyelids seamed shut, Akito nuzzled his pillow. It was the wrong season for woodpeckers, his muzzy thoughts told him -- never mind that woodpeckers weren't native to Japan -- and he settled back to sleep.

The knocking sounded again.

Turning over fully, his mostly unconscious mind resolved to ignore the noise as ridiculous implausibility. He was *sleeping.* Dressed in his sleeping sweats, and all. Then he roused enough to realize that a certain pair of hands were absent from their typical places on his body, and missing was the warm length at his back.

And the knocking was now accompanied by a peculiar sound.

Akito yawned and sat up, fists grinding at his eyes.

Blinking, he began to realize that the caterwauling sound parodied singing -- to be more specific, some kind of drinking ditty!

"I'll kill him," Hayama vowed, surging up from the couch with a sleepy stumble. "Ano baka yarou."

"Aaaaa~ki~to~!" Touma's trill pierced through the front door. "Where aaaa~are you?"

For several long seconds, Akito pondered letting him sleep it off on the front stoop, an ultimate expression of his displeasure. Then his curiosity overtook him, and he unbolted the door.

Wide plum-dusk eyes glittered up at him, hectic with drink. Touma was on his knees on the front stoop. "Aa-chan~!" Touma beamed, and suddenly Hayama was wearing a waist-ornament consisting of a pair of clutching arms and the drunken weight of one Kiryuu.

"Temee!" Hayama went rigid, "we're still on the front stoop!"

Somehow, the younger boy managed to manhandle the older one inside and get the door shut. Touma clung to his waist like a burr, rubbing his cheek over the silky-smooth skin of Akito's waist. "Aa~chan," Touma purred, his voice drowsy and loving.

Akito twitched at the ridiculous nickname, even as other instincts prompted him to put his arms around Touma for the tone behind it. "You idiot. You have house keys, you know," Hayama told him.

"I know!" Touma beamed up at him with a goofy grin. "Couldn't find 'em."

"Did you try your pockets?" Hayama suggested, sarcastic.

An astonished look crossed Touma's face, exaggerated but nonetheless genuine. "Uh..." He loosed one hand from his death grip on Akito and rummaged through his pockets. "Ohhh, HERE they are!"

Hayama sighed and put a hand to his forehead. "Baka," he pronounced. He surveyed Touma. He wasn't sure how the older boy had even managed to get to the front stoop, in his condition -- maybe his buddies, even drunker than he, had dumped him there -- and he sure as hell didn't know how Touma was going to make it all the way to their shared bedroom. Touma was just too tall and rangy for him to manhandle that far. And so...

"You're sleeping on the couch," Hayama pronounced, not bothering to conceal his smirk of satisfaction. Touma could barely focus on his face, let alone recognize his expression.

Touma squinted, then looked befuddled. "But Aa-chan--" he protested.

"Don't call me that!" Hayama snapped, taking a step further into the genkan. Lead weight clung to his waist and rubbed its cheek against his stomach.

"Aa-chan, ai shiteru," Touma stated, looking up at him with clear serious violet eyes.

Hayama's stomach did a flip-flop. He blinked a couple of times. That was the first time... the first time *anyone* had ever said that to him. "Touma..."

"I can't sleep on the couch! I always sleep with YOU!"

He gritted his teeth, plunged straight back into that dilemma. For a moment there... well, they did say that drunk people never lied. Hayama considered the sodden boy clinging to him with tenacity. "Do you think you can walk as far as the bedroom?"

Touma considered it very solemnly. Then, after Hayama reminded him what he was considering, considered it some more. "Nope!" he declared at last, cheerful. "But... but I think I could crawl."

Hayama tried to squash his devil-horns flat. *I could MAKE him crawl...*

"No," he said, slightly regretful. "You're going to have to sleep on the couch." For a moment he considered various ways to sober Touma up. Then he remembered that black coffee only made you a wide-awake drunk -- and gave you a ferocious urge to pee.

"But--" Touma objected.

"I'll sleep with you," Hayama conceded. "Until you pass out, anyhow."

"That's so sweet!" Touma gushed, peppering the skin of his stomach with tiny kisses.

"Baka! Not here!" Hayama pushed futilely at the tawny head while Touma just continued to grin goofily at him. He sagged as another problem occurred to him. "How am I going to get you to the couch??"

"I could crawl," Touma offered again.

*Yes! Yes! Make him crawl!* Akito's inner voice chanted.

"Baka," Hayama said yet again, to the voice and to Touma. "Can you stand?"

Touma's method of standing involved climbing up Akito's body as if he were a tree trunk or some other stationary object designed for climbing. Akito stood rigidly, jaw clenched, and plotted future evils. Maybe he should have made Touma crawl. Maybe if he stepped away quickly, Touma would topple over and he could *still* make Touma crawl. Then he reminded himself that he was supposed to be the adult one, since Touma was so obviously incapacitated.

With an arm over Hayama's shoulders, Touma was able to stagger up the one step into the house, through the kitchen, and into the den's couch. Where he promptly collapsed face-first onto the cushions and the sticky rice crumbs Hayama had left scattered all over the furniture. Touma didn't seem to notice. When Hayama bent over, faint snoring was issuing from the general direction of Touma's face.

"He wouldn't even have noticed if he wasn't sleeping with me," Hayama muttered, put out.

An arm groped over the couch. "Aa-chan..." Touma mumbled. The searching arm grew more insistent, not finding anything.

Gratified, Hayama sat on the edge of the couch and let Touma curl an arm around him, despite the ridiculous nickname. It was all because of those magical little words... *Ai shiteru.* So far he was keeping that so closely guarded to his heart he could barely recall it himself. But once the precious memory had been supplemented by others, he could take it out and look at it again, marveling.

Once the grip had loosened and Touma seemed deeply asleep, Hayama extricated himself and began to tiptoe back to his -- their -- room. On the way through the kitchen, though, he froze on hearing a scrabbling sound at the front door. ...What... Was it one of Touma's sensei buddies or fellow students? Hayama glanced at the kitchen clock. Two-thirty; there was no excuse.

The scrabbling was superseded by a click. The front door was open.

Shit!! Hayama grabbed the nearest thing to hand -- a frying pan on the draining basket. He shook his head. Only girls used frying pans. So he grabbed a butcher's knife from the block. Slowly, he crept around the corner.

Light exploded in his eyes.

Blinking, Hayama could barely make out a taller figure in the genkan, frozen with hand uplifted after flicking the switch.

"Hey, watch it -- boys shouldn't be playing with knives."

Hayama glared murderously at the figure he could barely see. The voice was a light tenor, higher than Touma's voice, but undeniably older. As his vision acclimated, he could see a young man -- over twenty, at least -- with a shock of dark hair and a handsome, almost pretty face dominated with warm maroon eyes. And in his hand was a key to the house.

Hayama upped his glare to the 100-volt Glare-of-Doom.

"Hey, kid, what are you doing here?" The man put the key in his pocket and toed his shoes off. Making himself at home. Hayama's lips thinned. From the suitcase behind him, he obviously intended to stay.

"I live here, ojiisan," Hayama said coolly.

"Ojiisan!?" the young man protested, rightfully so. His maroon eyes narrowed a bit.

"Who the hell are you?" Hayama inquired politely.

The man blinked a couple of times and muttered something under his breath, doubtless uncomplimentary. "I'm Osaka Kenji. I -- well, I don't live here anymore, but I stay over from time to time."

"Anymore?" Hayama's tone lowered dangerously. "What do you mean?"

"This IS Kiryuu Touma's house, isn't it?" Kenji abruptly looked somewhat confused and abashed. "I mean, he didn't go and sell it or nothin', right?"

Sou ka. THIS was one of Touma's previous lovers. He knew he couldn't have expected Touma not to have one or half a dozen, but actually coming face to face with one was... well...

"*I* live here now with him," Hayama stated, amber eyes flashing up at him.

Kenji blinked a few more times. "So, where is he?"

"Sleeping it off," Hayama made a dismissive motion. "You can sleep in the spare room." He turned to go back to the nice comfortable bed he'd left a small eon before.

"Ano ne... chibi, aren't you sleeping in the spare room?"

CHIBI!?!? A volt or two fritzed through the air between them. Hayama turned his head and gave Kenji the coldest look in his repertoire. "*I* sleep in the master bedroom. *You* can have the spare room." ...despite whatever expectations he may have come here with, Hayama finished to himself.

There was an odd moment of silence. "So where is Touma?"

"Tonight, he sleeps on the couch."

And Hayama kept walking until he'd reached the bedroom, shut and locked it behind him, and locked the door of the adjoining bathroom as well. Then he slumped onto the coverlet of the bed. Sleep was a LONG time in coming.

*....should've made him crawl...*

***

Touma slept deeply and dreamlessly, for a long long time.

A chorus of enthusiastic jackhammers was what finally woke him. They were prospecting for gold in the depths of his cranium and he didn't like it. Well, that and someone was whistling cheerfully nearby, and he wanted to rise up and SLAY them.

An eye cracked open, revealing a sliver of vindictive violet. In a flurry of tangled clothes and hair, Touma sat bolt upright. He stared evilly in the direction of the kitchen, from whence the foul sound issued. Then he blinked a couple of times as the jackhammer-chorus paused, giving him total quiet to absorb the impact of the noise he was hearing.

Hayama NEVER whistled.

Then who...?

With a sense of foreboding, he pushed himself up from the couch -- the couch!? -- and that little discrepancy made him aware of his surroundings. First of all, he was in yesterday's clothes. That brought the flush of memory -- some of his buddies had taken him out drinking, and he'd gone along even knowing Hayama would be home alone and pissed at him for not giving more warning. Second, he'd woken up face-down on a couch scattered over with rice crumbs. That, no doubt, was Hayama's doing. Third... well, there really wasn't a third one aside from that jackhammer crew pounding his reason to shreds.

He got up unsteadily, tottered, then made his way to the kitchen and braced himself against the door frame.

"Here, have some of this -- you'll feel better."

Something was shoved under his nose; a glass of water and a pill. Touma accepted them and gulped both down. Then he noticed exactly WHO was in his kitchen, puttering around in a green frilled apron.

"K-K-K-Kenji!!!" His mouth fell open. The dark-haired man winked at him and turned with a spatula to finish scrambling a panful of eggs. "What are you DOING here!?"

"The term's out for break," Kenji replied, "so I came here instead of going back home."

Touma blinked several times. He gulped queasily as the odor of cooking eggs made his stomach threaten to jump ship. The question 'why' occurred to him, making him realize that Kenji *wouldn't* know why -- he hadn't told Kenji about Hayama yet. There'd really been no opportunity yet. "Kenji...where's Hayama?"

"That brat who nearly accosted me with a butcher knife last night?"

Touma groaned and put a hand to his forehead. Then he winced. His headache was still threatening to split his skull in half. "Kenji, he lives here now."

Kenji turned wide maroon eyes on him. "Does that mean what I think it does??"

"No!!" Touma protested, out of habit. "Well, yes... Uhh... well, I'm his legal guardian, but he -- well, HE kissed me first!" He finished a bit defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. Then he winced as the sunlight struck his eyes just so, and faltered against the doorframe.

Kenji laughed at him. "Don't worry, Touma; if I called you a pervert I'd be a hypocrite. I remember you at his age. If this boy is anywhere near the same--"

"Oh yes!" Touma swore fervently, "he's a raging hormone!"

"--then I've got no doubts you two are well-matched," Kenji finished wryly, waving his spatula for emphasis. "You need someone with a turbo sex drive. Lord knows I could never keep up with you."

"So where is he?" Touma said, that uneasy feeling stirring again. Or maybe it was the sight of eggs churning in the pan.

"He said something last night about being in the master bedroom, vanished into it, and I haven't seen him since," Kenji said, scratching his head in puzzlement. "He looked kinda pissed when he saw me, Touma."

OH, shit.

The queasy feeling exploded into full-blown monstrous butterflies doing aerial acrobatics in his stomach, combined with the renewed assault of the jackhammer crew. He was in for it now. Touma stumbled through the kitchen, leaving Kenji to his cooking, and hurried for their bedroom. He tried the door. Locked, of course.

"Hayama?" Touma called, not without hope.

"Go away," came the surly response. "I'd hate to distract you from sex on the countertops. Or wherever else."

Hey, there was an idea... No, no, mustn't get distracted!! Touma shook his head vigorously. "Hayama no baka!! I haven't seen Kenji in almost a year; I didn't have the chance to tell him things are different now."

"Because you were drunk," was the swift and deadly-accurate reply. "Even before that guy showed up, you made a stinking nuisance of yourself."

Touma slumped against the door. Had he really been so awful last night? He picked through hazy recollections of caterwauling on the front stoop, latching onto Hayama's delicious little body -- uh, before the door had even closed -- so smashed he couldn't walk a single step, and.. and...

"Hey, I had to get up the courage *somehow* to tell you I love you!!" Touma tried, desperate.

Silence.

He slid to the carpet, hugging his knees. Damn, he'd made a mess. At the time it had seemed totally innocuous; just one night out for the evening, then he'd make it up to Akito in the morning. Once he got past the hangover and the dragon breath. In fact, he *still* needed to brush his teeth.

With a soft click, the door opened. Hayama stood looking down at him, wearing the green tank top Touma loved to see him in, arms folded over his chest. His mouth was set in a thin line but his gold-amber eyes were scintillating. "Is that your excuse?"

Touma grinned sheepishly up at him. "Hai."

Hayama's mouth twitched. "This doesn't mean I forgive you, okay?"

Pure relief shot through him. He knew his Hayama. "Okay. I'm on probation, I guess?"

"Hn." A corner of Hayama's mouth twitched. Then he seated himself on Touma's rangy knees, balancing with more grace than a cat -- and less claws -- and put his arms around Touma's shoulders. A forehead pressed into the curve of his neck and Touma rubbed Hayama's back in what he *hoped* was a soothing manner. "You were an ass. I should've made you crawl."

"Suman," Touma apologized, the words tugging faintly at a memory. He didn't actually crawl over the floorboards... did he? "I was an idiot." He stroked Hayama's shoulder, genuinely sorry. Seeing Kenji, and knowing what he must've been to Touma, had surely been a shock. Not the pleasant kind.

"Was?" Hayama muttered, but the hands at his neck tightened. He pressed his lips to Touma's neck, then moved across his cheek.

"Uh-uh." Touma pulled back and put a hand over his mouth for good measure.

Golden-amber eyes flashed dangerously.

"Morning breath!" Touma told him between his fingers.

Akito's nostrils flared. "Really, really bad," he agreed. He hopped off Touma's knees. "Go brush your teeth."

"Well you don't have to agree THAT way," Touma groused, getting to his feet.

"Hey, guys, breakfast is ready!" Kenji's voice came from up the hall.

Touma clapped his hands over his mouth, then made a mad dash for the toilet.

***

After being miserably sick and heaving -- he was sure -- the entire collective contents of gut and stomach no matter how meager that might be, Touma snapped upright, wiping at his mouth with shreds of toilet paper. He was queasy with another thought. Kenji and Hayama, alone in the kitchen together. Kenji had no cause for worry; he was a self-assured guy almost through with his college education. He'd be able to hold his own unless Akito started kicking shins. Touma winced and got up. He was already feeling better, from whatever Kenji had dosed him with.

Hayama was another matter. He'd been living here for such a short time, and had been subjected to that home environment for so long, that their relationship was still fragile. From the way he'd perched precariously on Touma's knees for a simple embrace, Touma knew that Akito was still feeling like a transplanted flower, in new territory and not yet sure of the attention and affection he was receiving.

And so, he could picture the scene in the kitchen right now... and the *best* scenario involved Hayama kicking Kenji in the shin!!

Touma scrambled down the hall, skidding over floorboards without his house slippers on. Hayama must've gotten his shoes off somehow, but left off the slippers. He poked his head around the entrance to the kitchen.

Hayama was forking scrambled eggs and tuna into his mouth. Kenji was gesturing expressively with his coffee mug, nearly sloshing dark liquid over the table. Touma blinked a few times and tried to focus. It appeared that Akito was actually listening to whatever Kenji was saying.

"....and so, the week after seducing his seventh-grade sensei, Touma was trying to get into the pants of his entire junior varsity soccer team! And let me tell you, he would've had a good chance if sensei weren't the assistant coach and wise to his sex-fiend ways." Kenji nodded wisely. "You need to have a pretty firm hand with Touma but it's easy enough if you--"

"Lead him around by his sex drive?" Akito filled in, pausing on his breakfast.

"Sou, sou!" Kenji nodded again, maroon eyes wide. "You'll do just fine, Hayama-kun." They shared a slight, knowing smile that made Touma extremely uncomfortable.

This was worse than he'd thought!!

"Oi," Touma stepped into the kitchen, raking back his tangled hair. He hadn't even paused to brush it in his haste. Brushing his teeth was the extent of what he'd allowed for. "What does a guy have to do to get breakfast around here?"

Kenji and Hayama shifted to look at him, and both expressions were mischievous. Kenji's, sparkling and gleeful. And Hayama's, in that reserved, 'I'm going to GET you' manner he'd begun to recognize. "Well, he DID ask, Hayama-kun," Kenji began.

"It's only fair," Hayama said, thoughtful.

"Please," Touma groaned, leaning against the cooking aisle counter, "please spare me. I'm still sick."

"Hungover," Hayama retorted, "because you went out and partied last night."

"That's right," Touma drooped. "Well, please don't make it too extreme."

"I think doing all the dishes is a start, don't you, Hayama-kun?"

"Hn. It's a start."

After a restrained breakfast of dry toast and coffee with LOTS of milk, Touma was beginning to feel more human. He wished, though, that Hayama had not decided to ally with Kenji -- the two had begun digging up amusing anecdotes about him, and the most he could do was splutter and try to correct the more woeful misconceptions. Then after they'd all finished, he found himself up to his elbows in suds and dishes while Kenji and Hayama popped into the living room to watch some anime.

"What next?" Touma groaned, finishing with the dishes and propping himself against the counter. Hayama entered the kitchen again for a drink. The boy paused by the fridge, giving him a considering look. "Oh, no. Don't give me that look. That's a 'how can I make things worse for Touma' kind of look."

The doorbell rang.

"Hei, hei," Touma hung up the frilly apron Kenji had been using, and dried his hands. He gave his hair a quick combing-over.

"Touma..." Hayama's voice came from behind him, halfway out the kitchen door.

"Hmm?" he turned.

"Do you still want that guy?" Hayama's gold-brown eyes were steady and unblinking.

"Huh? Kenji?" Touma foundered. He clapped a hand to his head and sighed. He'd been right. Hayama hadn't been here long enough to learn *not* to distrust any happiness he was given. With a few quick steps he turned and put his arms around the boy. Hayama was stiff in the circle of his arms. "Don't you know? You're the only one I'm interested in, Akito."

"But all those others..."

Argh!! His past was coming back to haunt him!! "That was *before* I had someone I l-loved, Hayama." Touma said it firmly, stumbling only a little over the important part.

"Honto ni?" Hayama said, still suspicious.

"Zettai ni," Touma replied, squeezing him closer.

At last thin arms slipped around him in response. "Okay," Akito acknowledged.

The doorbell rang again, a little longer.

"Hai, hai!!" Touma called out. "I'm coming!!" He disengaged and tilted Akito's head up with one hand, pressing a lingering kiss to his mouth. Akito's expression was calm again.

Upon opening the door, he was greeted by two people, a man and a woman, both in conservative daytime-wear suits. The man adjusted his glasses and looked at him. "Are you Kiryuu Touma?"

"Yes, I am," he replied, suspicion growing in his breast.

"We're from the Child Welfare agency," the man continued, and held up a slim file folder. "We've come to check up on Hayama Akito."

This morning was just going from bad to worse, wasn't it?

"Of course," Touma pulled the door wider, giving them his best professional smile reserved for difficult customers at the dojo. "Come in, won't you?"

"We'd like to see Hayama-kun first," the woman told him, holding on to a clipboard. "Then we have some questions to ask you, and we'd like to see the house."

"That's fine," Touma replied, trying to remember if he'd made the bed or not. And very happy that he was *pretty* sure he'd made the bed... no, wait, he'd been hungover. Hayama must have made the bed. "Would either of you like some coffee? Hayama! Oi, Hayama, there are some people here to see you."

Both suits declined the coffee, then smiled very politely when Hayama reached the kitchen entrance. The boy folded his arms and gave them a very cool, mistrustful glance. This seemed to put them off a bit during introductions. The woman was Aoe-san, the man was Hibiki-san. Whatever they had been expecting, Hayama was not it.

"Hayama-kun, are you happy living here?" Aoe-san put forth, wasting no time.

Hayama edged over to where Touma stood, arms still crossed. "I don't hate it."

The representatives looked puzzled.

"That's his way of saying he loves it here," Touma translated, giving them a grin. "You know how kids are."

"Maa," Hibiki-san said, seeming satisfied. Aoe-san gave Akito a measuring look. They turned to enter the kitchen.

Behind their backs, Hayama's heel dug into Touma's unslippered foot. "Kodomo?" he uttered.

"Shh," Touma winced, "they're still here."

The two suits glanced around the kitchen, then jotted something down on their clipboards. Touma felt very grateful that Kenji and Hayama had bullied him into doing the dishes.

"Hayama-kun, has Touma been taking care of you?" Aoe-san put forth again.

"Yes," Hayama answered laconically.

Aoe-san blinked at him. She shook her head a little and tried again. "Hayama-kun, don't you feel it might be better to be with your real family? At least give it a try?"

"Aoe-san!" Hibiki-san seemed put off.

From the slant of the question, the woman was obviously one of the foremost advocates of keeping kids with their natural parents. The issue was, did that mean she believed in that at the expense of the child's well-being? Or would she realize that Hayama had been miserable, and was no longer?

Holding his breath, Touma awaited Akito's response. It would be crucial, he knew, and couldn't come from *him.*

Hayama glared stonily at Aoe-san for a long, tense moment. Finally, he spoke in measured, quiet words that fell heavily into the atmosphere of the kitchen. "That depends on what you mean by a real family," he began, eyes never leaving the woman's. "If it means a father who ignores what goes on at home and works all the time and only comes home long after we should be in bed, or a sister who screams and points a blaming finger and calls names like 'akuma,' then... then I don't need it." Hayama's eyes were burning but steady. "I don't need that kind of real family."

Touma slipped his hand onto Hayama's shoulder, lending silent tactile support. It was almost the longest speech he'd heard Hayama make.

"Touma is always here. He makes dinner and he helps me with my homework and he's teaching me karate and... and he cares." Hayama's voice was faltering now, his gaze falling to the tiles. It was obviously a difficult subject for him, this revealing of his heart, but recognizing the necessity, he rose to the task. "If that's not a real family, I don't care. I hated it back there. I wanted someone to kill me just so I wouldn't suffer."

Aoe-san was clutching at her mouth, obviously unready for such a frank response. Hibiki-san adjusted his glasses, scrawled something on his clipboard, and gave Hayama a smile.

"I'm glad to hear it, Hayama-kun. We'll just look around the house for a bit, but I don't see any reason myself why this isn't a healthy, productive environment for you."

Touma breathed a sigh of relief and squeezed Akito's shoulder. This visit had been like a fulcrum for the two of them, with their happiness in the balance -- on one end, tipping into separation and misery that Touma didn't even want to contemplate. He knew himself and the fact that he'd go to any lengths to ensure Hayama's happiness, even... well, that wouldn't be necessary. The balance had tipped in favor of their continued residence together.

"Hey, Touma, did I hear--" Kenji poked his head into the kitchen, took in the presence of the suits, and grinned sheepishly. "Excuse me. I thought you might have company. Hi, I'm Osaka Kenji."

The representatives introduced themselves again, and looked over the newcomer with interest.

"Ah... this is my friend home from college; he's staying over for a few days," Touma explained, putting on his professional smile again. Now, if only Kenji didn't do anything *too* gay, they'd be in the clear, he thought...

And promptly had to clamp down on a yelp as Hayama's heel descended on the bridge of his foot again. K'so!! What did he do this... oh, yeah. That 'few days' comment.

Fortunately, the suits had already been reeled in by Kenji for a tour of the house, and missed the physical abuse his ward was heaping on him. Mou, they might have decided matters were unsafe for *Touma* if Hayama stayed!!

"And this is the spare room..." Kenji reeled off, pushing open the door.

"Hayama's room, now that he's here with me," Touma interrupted. He peeked in. 'Hayama's' bed was made neatly. You could always count on Kenji.

"It looks a little bare for a young boy's room," Aoe-san said, a little disapproving.

"He's still settling in," Touma explained smoothly. "And Hayama is very difficult to shop for. Ne, Hayama, what do you think of blue wallpaper?"

"Betsuni."

"How about a nice sound system, and a color television?"

"Betsuni."

"What about posters of your favorite rock bands? How about that idea?"

"I don't hate it."

Touma shrugged helplessly and gave the representatives his best wide smile. "See how he is?"

Hibiki-san grinned. Aoe-san kind of sniffed.

"That's pretty much it, unless you want to see the master bedroom or upstairs. I don't really use the upstairs much, but Kenji's up there for now," Touma finished, leaning against the wall.

"No, that's fine, but thank you," Hibiki-san said politely. "I've seen everything I need to. Aoe-san?"

Aoe-san was looking at Hayama with a little frown on her face. "Are we *sure* this is the best place for the boy!?" she finally burst out, clenching her clipboard in both hands. "Kiryuu-san is -- no offense, Kiryuu-san -- he's very young, and I have doubts about his ability to raise a child, let alone by himself. Wouldn't Hayama-kun be better off in the care of a family?"

Hayama's eyes went ice-hard.

"I'm not sure how not to take offense," Touma murmured. "I've proved myself responsible, I'm financially solvent, and I'm the one who filed the petition for guardianship. He's already been in one 'family' with disastrous results. Aoe-san, if he were to be placed in a foster family and it went badly... well, I can only say that Hayama is still recovering from the damages incurred over eleven years of abuse and neglect. Anything more might be irreparable."

"Even so," Aoe-san drew herself up, "it's not right. You're hardly more than a boy yourself. For two boys to be making decisions of this magnitu--OWW!!"

And she began hopping up and down, trying to favor her left leg without losing her dignity. It was a losing battle, because Hibiki-san began to laugh heartily.

Hayama had kicked her in the shin.

*Oh, please tell me this is NOT happening...* Touma discovered that, no matter how hard he wished for it, sinking through the floorboards was just not possible for a non-anime character. Nor melting into a puddle of goo, nor even willing himself to faint. Teleportation? Nai.

"I think--" Hibiki-san was trying to talk around a mouthful of laughter, smothering it unsuccessfully with his hand. "I think, Aoe-san, that it's time to go."

Aoe-san tried to draw herself up again, but the wince betrayed her. "The boy has NO manners! Why, if he--"

*Oh, gods, they're going to take him away from me,* Touma closed his eyes, suddenly anguished. He had no doubt if this woman rattled long enough...

"You can insult me if you like," Hayama put in, cool as ever. "But you were insulting Touma. I won't stand for it."

Touma stared in shock. *A-akito...*

Hibiki-san's eyes were dancing with mirth. He kept his mouth covered firmly with one hand. "Aoe-san. Enough. You've been insulting both of them, and that's not within your latitude, you realize."

Aoe-san managed to look aggreived, injured, and upset. "On your own heads be it!" She stalked up the hall, the effect somewhat marred by a pronounced limp.

Hibiki-san bowed politely. "I shall make a very positive report. If someone would see me out, please?"

"Ah, hai!" Kenji gave Touma a wink in passing, then ushered Hibiki-san up the hallway. "Thank you for coming..."

Touma turned to Hayama, mouth twitching. Hayama had his arms crossed resolutely, golden-brown eyes turned aside. His expression was sullen.

"Go ahead. Punish me," Akito challenged. "I know that's what you're going to say."

"Actually," Touma drawled, "I think it turned out for the best. Even if you DID nearly give me a heart attack when your foot connected with her shin. You have a bad habit of kicking things!"

Akito blinked up at him, expression off-guard. "...Touma?"

"C'mon." Touma snagged an armful of his favorite boy. "I think Kenji will leave us alone for an hour or two. I think you deserve some quality time."

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Hayama smiled.

***

After a normal school day consisting of Sana's antics tearing up the classroom and Mitsuya-sensei's weeping, Hayama walked home. Touma was out running errands after his last class of the afternoon today, so wasn't there on his motorcycle to pick him up like usual. Hayama didn't mind walking -- well, he wouldn't mind if the way didn't take him with Sana and Tsuyoshi for a good deal of it. He didn't mind walking with the other boy, but Sana-chan was a walking, talking, whirling disaster.

At the girl's gate, Tsuyoshi long gone, Sana turned to him.

"Kore!" she said brightly, pressing something into his unresisting hand. "Something I got for yesterday's commercial. Ja ne, kiss-devil!" With a laugh, she whirled through the gates towards her house.

Bemused, Hayama looked after her for a moment, then shrugged and moved on. He examined the 'gift' -- striped, colored paper sticks. He peered at the lettering. It was English, 'pixie--' something. Didn't pixie mean 'yosei?' Fairy. Hey, that was American...

Was Kurata trying to tell him something?

Hayama stuffed the fairy sticks in his pocket and ambled home, unconcerned.

After toeing his shoes off and leaving his backpack in the genkan, Hayama looked around. Touma obviously wasn't home yet -- the house seemed to resonate with a certain presence when the tawny-haired boy was around. He peered in the cupboard. His typical after-school habit -- he'd formed new ones, in a place where he didn't have to worry about a hysterical sister -- was to have a snack and watch TV before doing homework. Then he and Touma worked out in his white-belt class before dinner.

Nothing in the cupboards. He glared then remembered -- Touma was doing massive grocery shopping today; he'd borrowed Kenji's car -- "before the guy takes it halfway across Tokyo," as he'd said. They were out of everything, even rice and pickled plums.

"K'so," Hayama muttered, jumping down. His hand brushed over sharp edges jutting from his pocket. Nani--

With suspicion, Hayama regarded the 'fairy sticks' he pulled from his pocket. He shouldn't trust anything Kurata gave him. Was it really a snack, anyhow? He was hungry. K'so.

He popped one open, sniffed, and waited. It smelled sweet, and when he didn't keel over, he put the tip of his finger over the opening and upended it. Grainy pink stuff clung to his finger. Hayama tasted it.

Not bad. Sugary. Like really sweet cherries.

Hayama looked around and shrugged. Well, there was nothing else to eat.

He lifted the colored, striped tube to his lips, and tilted back.

***

Touma opened the door with his knee, a skill of great practice and agility and necessity, arms packed full of grocery bags as they were. The door was unlocked because Akito was home. He kicked off his shoes on the way in and dumped his burden on the generous counter space.

"Akito! You home?" he called, going back for his house slippers. Silence greeted his inquiry. Funny. Akito was usually parked on the couch watching TV, in the afternoons. He started to put away groceries, unconcerned, then froze.

The kitchen was clean.

This by itself was not cause for alarm. Oh, no. His standards were reasonably high. But the fact that it was absolutely scrubbed-spotless, every-corner-polished, each-surface-sparkling, totally-completely-ordered *CLEAN* was enough to make alarm bells sound off in his head.

"Akito!?" he called, panic edging into his voice. "Doko ni?? I...I brought sushi!"

It was *so* clean, in fact, it presaged the expenditure of a considerable amount of energy, vigor, and single-minded ferocity shortly to be directed at HIM. So Akito had to be mad at him. Either that or he'd had a pissy day at school.

Still silence.

"Akito?"

Touma peered into the living room. It, too, was frighteningly clean. He winced. Had Kenji come back and said something? Masaka; he had Kenji's car. Then what...

He moved towards the back of the house. In passing, the bathroom looked screamingly spotless. Touma hunched. "Giku." It wasn't like there was anything worse than sex toys to find in the house, and he'd already burned his memoirs... His foot crunched on something as he headed for the door. Puzzled, Touma picked up a brightly-striped tube of paper.

"Pixie-stix?"

With a sense of foreboding, Touma pushed open the back door.

"Usu! Usu! Usu!"

Touma blinked.

"Usu! Usu! Usu!"

There on the lawn, clad in his white gi cinched with the white obi, Hayama was running through his exercises. Everything he'd learned so far in a couple of months.

"Usu! Usu! Usu!"

At five times the normal speed.

"Ah... Akito?" Touma lifted a wary hand. What the hell was going on here?

In the next heartbeat, he was wearing a Hayama-sized frontal backpack. With a surprised huff, Touma stared at the golden-brown head. "Akito?"

"Okaeri," Hayama responded, wriggling his hips.

WHAT was going ON here!?

"Uh... glad to see me?" Touma grinned weakly, patting the slim shoulders.

"You took a long time," Hayama said, wriggling some more. Hands pushed up his shirt and slipped inside.

"Akito!" Touma yelped, mildly shocked. "What're you doing!?"

"Trying to undress you," Hayama returned, direct as usual. His upturned gold-brown eyes were hectic and brilliant. "You *could* help a little." He scowled.

"Not here!" Touma exclaimed, stumbling back. Akito continued to cling. "What on earth are you *on!?*" Suspicious, he sniffed Hayama's breath. No sake, that was for certain. Something sweet... Then, Akito taking the gesture for an invitation, glued lips to his.

"Mm..." It was definitely sweet; tongue deep in Akito's mouth, he was in a position to know. And very sugary. And... "Aki-TO!" He pulled his mouth away as small hands rode his shirt up.

"What?" Akito deadpanned. Actually, he was being serious. And now he was twisting Touma's nipples.

"STOP that!" Touma's voice went up an octave. "We're in public, you know! And what did you do, eat the whole canister of sugar?"

"Pixie stix," Hayama mumbled, abandoning attempts to kiss his mouth and moving down. "Kurata gave them to me."

"Oh, god," Touma groaned. Then Hayama found a sensitive spot. "Oh, GOD!"

"Heh," Hayama paused to smirk, then continued.

"N-not here..." Touma staggered. Hayama was getting *too* good at this... wait, he had only himself to blame.

"Then take us inside. Baka."

Somehow Touma managed to do that. He slammed the door, ignored the house slippers by the entrance, and tried to calculate if couch or bed was closer -- a feat of mental computation, considering Hayama had begun to suck on his nipples.

They wound up on the couch.

"I'm not sure whether to thank Kurata or murder her," Touma murmured afterwards, brushing Hayama's sweaty bangs away from the flushed face.

An elbow dug into his side. "Mou ichi do," Hayama commanded.

"You're not serious." Touma stared.

Hayama smirked.

After *that* time, Touma was amazed Hayama's eyes were still open -- he still looked nowhere near sleepy. "Akito, you cleaned the house."

"Un," Hayama acknowledged.

"The WHOLE house."

"Un."

"And you practiced your lessons."

"Un."

"And we just..."

Kissable lips curved up in a smirk. "Un."

"And you're still *awake!*"

"Un." The elbow dug into his side again. "Mou ichi do."

"I'm going to KILL Kurata!" Touma vowed.

After that time, Touma hoisted himself up on one elbow. "This makes us even for my drunk night out, Akito."

A tiger's-eye orb angled up at him. "It does?" Small hands were already beginning to roam over Touma's body again. "This is a lot nicer for you than it was for me."

"Uh...." Touma experienced brainlock. "Um..."

"Mou ichi do," Hayama prompted him.

"Hey, kora, give me a minute or two to recover, will you?" Touma laid back on the couch.

Hayama blinked a couple of times, then poked him.

"Okay, I waited."

Touma glared.

"Are you ready yet?"

"Hey, it gave me a total heart attack when I walked into a clean house!" Touma defended himself at last, swatting away the familiar groping hand. "At least you were only annoyed when I got drunk; I got scared! I thought you were mad, but here you are just..."

"Horny," Hayama supplied.

"Hyper," Touma finished, glaring. "You actually ate something Kurata gave you?"

"Urusee," Hayama snorted. "It's your fault there was nothing to eat after school."

"Yes, but school ended an hour ago! I'm not *that* late!"

"Are we going to do it again, or argue?"

He was getting so good at conversation stoppers. "Akito, you're going to come down really hard."

Hayama snickered. "Only if you're doing something wrong."

"From the sugar rush, brat!" Touma spazzed. "Can't you use all this extra energy to finish up your homework?"

Hayama considered it. "No," he decided, and resumed teasing Touma manually.

"Um." Touma tried to renew his determination. "Why not?"

"I'm already horny," Hayama informed him, and pressed against him just *so.*

"Oh." By itself his hands had drifted to the small round buttocks, petting and caressing. He recognized his own favorite excuse flung back at him. Well, dinner could wait. And homework... Akito's tongue traced his collarbones. Home... their bodies jolted together... something. Something... could wait, too.

"Akito," he whispered, delighted when the hazy, dilated eyes raised to fix on him. "I stashed some more lube in the crack of the sofa."

"For me?" Akito bent his head again.

"No, for that *other* horny eleven-year old with the hot little body and pretty face. Whom I love to distraction," Touma kissed his brow, pulling him closer.

"Hn." Akito raised his head, inched up, and kissed him. They shared a few more of those. "That was foresighted."

"I know," Touma said smugly, letting his own hands roam on that hot little body.

An odd expression crossed Akito's face.

"What? What is it?" Touma said, anxious.

"I...think I'm coming down," Akito uttered, then his eyes slid shut.

Experimentally, Touma kissed him. His lips were slack and unresponsive. K'so. He massaged the pert rear in his hands. Akito was warm and pliant, but not pressing against him like before.

He *was* asleep. That settled things.

Touma was going to KILL that Kurata girl.

***

"Kiss-devil!" Kurata planted herself squarely in front of Hayama before he'd managed to escape out of the school gates.

"Yo," Hayama continued to plod along, lifting a noncommittal hand. He ducked one outflung arm and kept walking.

"Oi." Sana bounced to head him off. "Oooo~oi! Sto-pu!" She held a hand up.

"Knock if off, baka," Akito muttered. Tsuyoshi joined him, cinching his backpack, turning wide bespectacled eyes on Sana.

"Wahh! You called me an idiot!!" Sana flapped her arms, then settled on his other side as he kept walking with perfect indifference. "You merciless boy! And I was just about to express my concerns!"

Hayama wondered if she ever used up all her exclamation points. "So express them to someone who cares. Ahou."

"Wahh! So rude! See, living with a teenage boy can cultivate this kind of rude behavior!!" Sana gesticulated. She pulled out her Nopia from -- gee, he *hoped* it was from her backpack. "I'll compose a song to your rudeness, Hayama!"

"Akito-kun," Tsuyoshi turned a weeping face on him, having remembered his ongoing concerns over Hayama's virtue.

"Urusai yo," Hayama told him, nettled.

A rapping beat started up to their left. They walked faster.

Hayama turned his head and noticed a new addition to their walking-home group. "Yo, Gomi."

"Hayama-san!" Gomi gave him a half-smile, lifting a hand. "I didn't know you lived this way."

"Now I do," Hayama replied.

"I didn't used to live this way, either," Gomi added. "But now I guess we'll be walking home together, Hayama-san. Cool, huh?"

"Betsuni," Hayama replied.

"Gomi-kun, did your parents move?" Tsuyoshi asked. "Mine did -- my mom, anyhow. Then I got a new name."

From behind them, the sounds of Sana's rapping floated to their ears. It involved something about *"~ohhhh~ rude boy~ ~~"ohh~ sugar daddies~!* and a nonsensical rhyme or two and Hayama gritted his teeth. A vein popped. He ignored the music and kept walking.

"Uhh... no," Gomi was saying, "actually... actually, I'm living with someone else now."

Sana-chan popped up in between Gomi and Hayama, and Tsuyoshi and Gomi squeaked. Hayama twitched. With irritation, not surprise.

"Oh, like Hayama?" Sana asked Gomi.

"Sana-chan, you have ears like an elephant's," Tsuyoshi said admiringly.

Hayama snickered.

"Is Hayama-san living with someone else now?" Gomi said curiously.

"Yes, but he's not a relative. He's a teenager named Touma who has this big house all to himself and he looks like a pervert and he stole that picture from me when I -- mmph!" Sana's chatter was cut off by a sweater stuffed into her mouth.

"Hey, my sweater!" Tsuyoshi protested.

"Is that true, Hayama-san?" Gomi asked, eyes wide.

"He doesn't look like a pervert," Hayama muttered shortly, as Sana made all sorts of muffled noises in trying to pull the sweater out. *He IS a pervert.*

"Gomi-kun, are you living with a relative now?" Tsuyoshi asked.

A rosy flush spread over fair cheeks. "Um... no."

"Heeehh?" Sana tossed the sweater casually into the street. Tsuyoshi made a dive for it. "Who ARE you living with, Gomi?"

"His name's Kurei," Gomi said awkwardly, still flushing.

Sana's gaze whipped to Hayama, who averted his eyes, leopard tail wagging, then whipped to Gomi, who flushed and hung his head. She did this several times. "HEEE~EH??"

She was going to run out of question marks, too.

"I think I need to compose another song!!" Sana whipped out her Nopia again.

This time, they ran.

"Well, ja ne!" Tsuyoshi turned at his usual corner, giving them a cheerful wave.

"Ja," Hayama inclined his head.

He could feel Gomi looking at him sidewise as they kept walking. At first Hayama was content to ignore him and walk, hands stuffed in his pockets. Then he got kind of irritated. Finally it built up to the point where he said something.

"Look, if you have something to say to me, spit it out," he told the other boy.

Gomi looked confused. "Ha-Hayama-san?"

"Forget it," Hayama muttered. Maybe he was being paranoid. Then he felt eyes fixed on his profile again, and turned his head.

Gomi's eyes slid away. Well, at least he wasn't being paranoid.

"Hayama-san?"

"What?"

"Is it true? What Kurata said. You're living with another boy?"

"Yes," Hayama said calmly. No point in denying it. It was true and legal.

"Oh." Gomi fell silent again.

A block away from the Kiryuu house, Gomi finally turned the corner. "Well... see you tomorrow, Hayama-san."

"Ja," Hayama gave him a nod. He looked at Gomi for a little bit as the boy walked. The other boy craned his head to look at him over one shoulder. He caught his eye, flushed, and hurried on.

Hayama kept walking. Weird.

"Tadaima," he called out as he opened the door, feeling that odd little surge of pleasure he'd almost gotten accustomed to, arriving at a place that felt like home. He liked this house and he liked Touma and he hoped things would stay like this for awhile.

"Okaeri," Touma called back, causing another little surge of that feeling. It was new and he was still getting used to it. Maybe it was... being comfortable?

He ambled into the kitchen, slinging his backpack onto the table. Touma was behind the counter and gave him a cheerful smile.

"How was school?" he asked, arranging something on a plate.

"It wasn't boring," Hayama shrugged. Any day without Kurata absent wasn't boring.

"That's good," Touma grinned, "Did Kurata give you any pixie stix?"

"No," Hayama scowled, "Quit that. You've been asking every day for a week."

"Yes, and I'm sincerely glad she hasn't given you any more," Touma said fervently. He wandered over to the table. "how 'bout some sushi for an after-school snack?"

Hayama regarded the plate suspiciously. Then Touma's too-cheerful face. "What did you do?"

"Me?" Touma said quickly. "What makes you think I've done anything?" He sounded convincingly injured.

Hayama held up a hand. Touma looked apprehensive. He folded his pinkie in. "One, you're offering sushi for a snack that could 'spoil my appetite.' " Touma's phrasing, not his. He folded his ring finger in. "Two, you've been cleaning the kitchen." He folded his thumb in. "Three, you brought groceries in the middle of the week..." He folded his middle finger in.

"All right, all right!" Touma cut in, guilt taking over the cheerful front. "Dammit, why do you have to be so perceptive?"

"Hn." Hayama sat back and folded his arms and allowed momentary smugness to settle in his face. He snatched some sushi.

"Do you like it?" Touma asked out of habit.

"I don't hate it. Touma, what did you do?" Hayama asked directly, eyes burning into nervous violet.

Touma chewed on his lip. "I invited a couple of friends over for dinner."

"Fine," Hayama stood up. "Have fun."

"No, wait!" Touma grabbed at his wrist. Hayama held himself immobile, not resisting the hold but not yielding, either. "I really want them to meet you."

Hayama considered the phrasing and the tone of the request. Finally he tendered a cautious "why?"

"Because they're my friends. And you're really important to me, Akito."

Hayama flushed slightly. He still hadn't gotten used to hearing things like that. "Okay." He snapped his mouth shut and pressed his lips together. Unfortunately, the novelty insured that their application made Touma's wheedling strategies more successful. For now.

"Yatta!!" Touma cheered, using the light grip around his wrist to draw him in for a hug. Hayama was stiff for a moment, resisting on general principle, then put his arms around Touma and returned the embrace.

"If it means that much to you," he muttered, but a faint smile touched his lips.

"Now, if I can just get Koganei to behave..." Touma said against his shoulder, but sounded as if he was talking to himself.

"Did Koganei live here, too?" Hayama demanded, pulling away with sudden suspicion. That dry fear shivered up his middle, the same feeling he'd had when Kenji had come here looking to shack up.

"No!" Touma said at once. He let go but touched Akito's shoulder, reassuring. "No, Akito, neither Koganei nor Tokiya ever lived here."

Hayama had lingering suspicions. "Did you want them to?"

"Absolutely not," Touma said emphatically, his eyes reflecting the conviction and even faint queasiness at the thought. Then his lips curved up in a wicked smirk. "Why, Aa-chan, I believe you're jealous."

Hayama answered the only way possible.

Eyes hard, he hauled off and kicked Touma in the shin.

"AWAAAA~A!"

He stalked off, back straight, carrying the plate of sushi with him. It would never do to let Touma get too sure of himself, or to use that ridiculous nickname. Behind him there was a lot of cursing and carrying on in the kitchen.

Eventually, Touma called after him, "So okay -- dinner's at seven. Be dressed and wash your hands."

Hayama refused to dignify that with an answer.

***

*tok tok*

"Who's there?"

"Why, it's the handsome incomparable Koganei, and his bishounen date-for-the-evening, Mikagami Tokiya!"

"Ahh, come in, come in, we've been expecting you!"

Koganei Kaoru beamed at the peephole, showing a bit of fang.

Tokiya was expressionless. "You're an idiot. You know that, right?"

Koganei grinned. "But you love me anyway."

"And what's this about 'date-for-the-*evening*?' "

"Eheh..."

The door opened wide enough to reveal a neatly-dressed, totally expressionless boy of about eleven. He was gorgeous, golden-brown hair and topaz eyes, and seemed completely oblivious of his looks. "Yo."

Koganei goggled. Tokiya elbowed him sharply.

"Uhh... is this the surprise Touma mentioned?"

The boy regarded them steadily. "Surprised?"

Koganei wrenched his jaw up. "Knowing Touma, I shouldn't be surprised by *now...*"

"Touma's still busy in the kitchen," the boy said. "So come in."

Tokiya elbowed Koganei again. He rolled his eyes. Obviously he was going to have to take the initiative. "I'm Mikagami Tokiya," he said, glancing sidewise at his dumbstruck lover. "This is Koganei Kaoru."

"The incomparable Koganei?" The boy's mouth twitched in an almost-smirk.

"Acha... he heard..." Koganei rubbed his head sheepishly.

"I'm Hayama Akito," the boy said, then opened the door all the way. "You might as well come in."

"Thanks," Tokiya muttered, dragging Koganei by the elbow. His gold-green eyes were starting to glaze.

"Ano ko... uso..." Koganei squeaked hoarsely.

Hayama moved back just past the genkan and stood waiting, hands stuck in his pockets. His tiger's-eye gaze was assessing.

Touma emerged from the direction of the kitchen, face smudged with flour. "Ahh, you're here! I see you met Akito!"

"Touma!!" Koganei uttered, sounding strangled. "Tell me you're NOT!"

Touma gave him a startled glance, then lapsed into his easy, somewhat wicked grin. "You spotted that quick."

Koganei made a series of strangled, incoherent noises and vehement gestures, punctuating his tirade with the occasional, discernible 'shotakon hentai!' and finished up with "bathroom! Now!"

"Before dinner? Koganei!" Touma said in a tone of mild reproof.

"Gyaaahh!" Koganei roared, then dashed forward, seized Touma's arm, and dragged him down the hall. A door slammed.

Tokiya and Hayama stared at each other. "I'll give them five minutes," Tokiya said calmly, before I refuse to forgive either of them."

"Touma would never finish in less than ten," Hayama returned, equally calm.

Tokiya choked. It appeared Koganei's suspicions had solid ground.

"Oi. How old are you?" Tokiya asked directly.

A scintillating eye angled at him. "How old are *you?*" Hayama countered.

The fact that Koganei was still underage flashed briefly through his head. "Old enough," he said evasively.

"Well, so am I," Hayama said, gaze direct and challenging now.

Tokiya nodded, a faint smile crossing his face. Fair enough.

Koganei's irate voice floated up the hall. Not the whole tirade; just choice bits. "TEMEE!" "JAILBAIT!" "PERVERT!" "MORALS COURT!" Tokiya winced.

"Shall we go to the living room?" Tokiya inquired, wanting to get Hayama away from the hypocritical rantings of his younger lover. Hayama nodded, still expressionless.

They sat on different couches. Hayama folded his arms and stared off into space. "How do you know Touma?"

Tokiya concentrated on picking silver hairs off his shirt. "He's one of Koganei's classmates." There was more than a fair share of long chestnut strands. Had Koganei worn this recently?

"Oh."

"How do you know Touma?" Tokiya asked. He was quite curious, but didn't consider it overly important. Touma was happy -- a genuine kind of happiness he didn't think he'd ever seen.

"I saw him at a couple of karate demonstrations. At the last one, I dropped my wallet."

"Sou ka," Tokiya said. Sounded like initiation, at least, had been on Hayama's part. This was the kind of boy who didn't do anything accidentally. Tokiya knew.

***

"--you're a super-duper pervert, and you're going to jail, and if you think I'm going to lift a finger when you go to Morals Court, or bail you out or anything, you're crazy, because you're bringing it down on your own head!" Koganei yelled, waving a finger around, face red.

"You finished?" Touma interjected into his pause, one tawny brow lifted nearly to the hairline.

Koganei rocked back on his heels and took a deep gulping breath. "I think so."

"Good," Touma said, violet eyes narrowed. "How do you think your little tirade is making Mikagami feel?"

Koganei blinked, righteous wrath dissolving into confusion. "To-Tokiya-niichan?"

Touma gave him a curt nod. "Un. Your Tokiya-*niichan.*"

Koganei flushed a little at the emphasized endearment. "Whu-whaddya mean?"

"Let me tell you," Touma said smoothly, crossing his arms. "Tokiya is twenty-one and he's been over his majority for how many years now?"

Koganei's face turned red. "Almost four."

Touma nodded. "And you've been *underage* for how many of the years you've been sleeping together?"

Koganei looked truly chagrined now. He buried his face in his hands. "All of them. Touma, I'm an idiot."

"Yes, you are," Touma agreed mercilessly. "And how old were you when you started, Kaoru-chan?"

Koganei lifted his face slowly from his hands. "Thirteen...with Tokiya."

"Exactly," Touma agreed, holding his gaze. "Thirteen... with *Tokiya.*"

There was no need to say aloud when Koganei's *first* time had been. They both knew.

Then Touma let his wicked grin take hold again. "And whose idea was it, Kaoru-chan, yours or his?"

"Mine, of course!" Koganei replied readily. His topaz eyes widened. "Oh... that Hayama kid...?"

"Yeah," Touma chuckled. "He is. Reminds me of me, at that age."

Koganei snickered. "Okay, but you're still a pervert."

"Never denied that charge!" Touma assented cheerfully.

"Yosh'! Let's go see what our boys are up to," Koganei slung a companionable arm around his shoulders.

"Probably still working their way up to small talk from the silent stares," Touma laughed.

"Heh. That's Tokiya, all right."

"I think Hayama would win a staring contest."

"Usooo~!"

***

Tokiya stared at the patterned print of the couch. It was a new couch, he was fairly sure. Staring at the couch was preferable to getting embroiled in a staring contest with Hayama. He had a feeling it would be dangerous.

A slight crease married the white span between arched silvery brows. It looked like something was wedged in the couch...

With careful fingers -- knowing Touma's odd sense of humor, it might be a mousetrap -- Tokiya fished into the crack of the couch. He pulled free the white, crinkled object and stared.

Tokiya's pale thin cheeks filled with color. MUCH worse than a mousetrap. Swiftly he replaced the mostly-used tinfoil tube and pretended it had never existed. He looked up.

Hayama was smirking at him.

"Ooo~oi, did you miss me, Tokiya-niichan?"

Touma and Koganei walked into the living room, good spirits evidently restored. Tokiya wondered what on earth Touma had said, and if he'd had to blackmail or bribe him into good behavior.

"Don't call me 'niichan,' " Tokiya snapped automatically.

Hayama got up from the couch.

"So, what's for dinner?" Koganei asked. "I'm starved!"

Hayama crossed over to the two boys where they stood near the door.

Touma opened his mouth.

Hayama drew back and kicked Koganei in the shin with all his might.

"GYAAHHHH! ITETETETETE!!"

With an expression on his face that resembled low-key satisfaction, Hayama limped back to his seat. House slippers.

"What the HELL was that for, you brat!?" Koganei howled, favoring his injured leg.

Tokiya buried his silver head in his hands. This was going to be the longest night of his life.

***

Return to the Handbasket