Once upon a time, in a Galaxy Far, Far Away…..

Oops! Wrong Fandom! A thousand pardons.

Ahem…

Once upon a time, MightyMightyMunson engaged in a silly, yet oh, so satisfying writing challenge with two wonderful, talented women. The challenge was to write something on the citrusy side of the writing spectrum (which I had never done before) that contained the following variables:

The Phrase: "Where is the key?"

Objects: A Telephone, Underwear, Food, Handcuffs

Location: A Shower

This is the result (after a rewrite, edit and a serious de-WAFFing of a certain iceman) Read and review – let me know what you think and who you might like to see in a story. While it was originally written as a bit of a game and writing practice, I confess to being slightly fond of this AU dynamic and am pondering the merits of a series of short stories about the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force *ponders*

Warning: While not as hazardous as Saitoh's second hand smoke (or temper!) this story is rated "M" and has adult content, language, references to violence and super hot shinobi snogging. You have been warned.

TO PROTECT AND SERVE

RK Tales of the Tokyo PD

"Where is the Key?"

11:46 am

Tokyo Metropolitan Police Precinct 11-B

Third Floor

"I see." Commander Saitoh nodded slightly, narrow lips tightening against his smoldering cigarette. "How long until she's able to return to active duty?" Listening to the unwelcome electric voice on his phone, the tall detective took a long, resentful drag of his cigarette, held the nicotine rich air within him for several seconds, then exhaled, filling his small office with the sent of smoke scented air. "Three to six weeks? Are you absolutely sure about that?"

With a scowl, he bit down on the cigarette, his sharp teeth sinking through the delicate paper wrapping, into the brown-red tobacco blend. "No, you Moron, I am not questioning your medical judgment." (Four months of planning…eight weeks of surveillance) His frown deepening into something downright scary, the amber eyed officer spat out what remained of his one and only vice. (…and my last damn cigarette…all just went up in smoke)

"Fine…yes…just send the required paperwork to the precinct. Yes, I'll see to it that it is completed." Pinching the bridge of his narrow nose, he began to contemplate either strangling himself or the obsessed bureaucrat masquerading as emergency room physician with the telephone cord. (God…anything to get this asshole to shut the hell up) "No, I'm not going to give you a time frame."

Risking death, dismemberment and lung cancer before the age of thirty, Lieutenant Sagara eased open his commanding officer's door, coughing slightly as he was assaulted with two hours worth of pent up smoke. (Dammit, is he trying to asphyxiate himself in here?) Brown eyes tearing up from the acrid haze, he squinted at the taller man, trying to decide if he dared push his notoriously bad luck and actually ask Saitoh a question. (Why the hell not) He was after all, a man who liked living dangerously.

"Yo! Boss! Any idea where the key is?"

Saitoh blinked a couple of times, trying to fathom what the spikey haired moron was talking about. "What?"

"Where…is…the key?" Sano enunciated, sputtering slightly as he took in a lungful of second hand some. "You know, to the office supply room? We're out of toner again and I need to make some copies."

Saitoh blinked again, trying to figure out what crime he'd committed in a prior life that condemned him to dealing with addle patted fools. "Do I look like your damn secretary?"

"Well no." Sano grumbled as he rubbed the back of his head. (Shit…I wonder who pissed in his soba?) Pressing his luck, he decided to go for broke and ask another question before his superior officer got off the phone and all holy hell broke loose. "Hey, I don't suppose that Takani called in, did she? It's not like her to be late for work." While he'd be the last to admit it, he had grown protective (and secretly rather fond) of his partner, despite her acidic tongue and annoying hair flipping habit.

(She's going to be missing work for quite a while) Pressing his hand against the receiver, Saitoh glared at the brown eyed vice cop, unwilling to voice the fact that the Sagara's partner had been involved in a hit and run accident, and was damn lucky…(damn lucky indeed) to even be alive. (The real trick will be keeping her that way) Snorting in frustration with Sagara's inane chatter and the doctor's inane blather, the detective resorted to his time honored method of dealing with morons; he got snippy. "Did I invite you in here?"

"Can't say that you did," Sanosuke shrugged nonchalantly as he edged back towards the door and the blessedly smoke free air that awaited him. "Hey, just so you know, there's some nosy reporter on line two demanding to talk with ya, and some chick from internal affairs is bitching away on line three….and oh yeah, I almost forgot!….your wife, she's on line four. Seems you're running late for your kid's kindergarten program," Unable to resist, the younger man smirked slyly, struggling to imagine his surly superior dealing with a classroom full of hyperactive six year olds. "She was wondering if you'd bring your camera."

Saitoh's left eyelid began to twitch dangerously, his hands drifting down past his handcuffs, towards the firearm at his side. "Get the hell out my office."

"Sure thing boss," In a rare moment of wisdom, Sagara did just that, sparing himself the embarrassment of having a telephone shoved up his ass.

15:36 pm

Tokyo Metropolitan Police Precinct 11-B

Operations Conference Room #3

"And so, in light of recent developments, we have no choice to but to postpone the mission until further notice." Silently, Captain Shinomori closed his folder, taking time to first make sure that all the papers within were perfectly straight and properly paper clipped. Shoving down his deep disappointment and frustration, he stood up and faced the angry sea of officers, knowing that in moments like this, leaders had to remain emotionless anchors. "Be assured that despite this setback, we will find a way to continue monitoring Kanryuu's activities and collect evidence against him."

"The hell we will! We've got one shot…one fucking shot to nail that rat bastard against the wall! Dust this mission, and we're right back at square one!" Sanosuke shouted, slamming his fist down onto the wobbly legged conference table, the impact sending two ashtrays, a plate of stale Danish pastries and three coffee mugs flying, one of which overturned, splashing lukewarm coffee all over Shinomori's color coded manila folders.

"There's got to be a way for us to salvage this operation, there just has to be!" He glared at the blue eyed investigator, daring the silent man to deny the truth of his words.

"Sit down Lieutenant." Aoshi ordered, his soft words carrying a hint of frosty warning. "I know you are upset about the incident this morning involving Lieutenant Takani…"

"Incident?" Sanosuke snarled, his volcanic temper igniting. "Incident? You call my partner getting hit by a car a fucking incident?" Grinding his teeth, he took a shuddering breath, torn between wanting to paste Shinomori in the mouth and shooting himself in the foot for not anticipating that something like this would happen. "He's behind it you know, that psycho drug dealer is not gonna stop until everyone who has a bead on him is either too shit scared to testify in court or dead!"

Already, three witnesses had mysteriously disappeared from police safe houses, only to appear days later either floating face down in Tokyo Harbor, or covered with bruises….tight lipped and terrified.

Worse yet, the victims were not only scarred users and drugged up hookers. (He took out three of our finest) "Someone should do the world a favor and just kill the son of a bitch before he hurts anyone else." Sanosuke snarled angrily, remembering against his will the dreadful gun battle that had decimated the narcotics squad and left their commander half dead from blood loss and half crazed from repressed guilt and grief. (They say he's never recovered from seeing his men gunned down in front of him…can't say I blame him…The fact that Kanryuu was able to get off on a blasted legal technicality would be enough to drive anyone off the deep end!)

"Presently, we have no evidence to support that Kanryuu was responsible for Officer Takani's accident." Aoshi said stiffly, trying to keep a handle on the hot tempered policeman and his own unraveling sense of hard won serenity. "You would do well to remember what happens when officers take the law into their own hands." (Innocent people get in the crossfire)

Sanosuke swore violently. "And you should know…better than any of us, what that grade-A motherfucker is capable of." Grabbing his coat, he stormed from the table and out the door, too angry to think about what he was saying…or about how the man he was speaking to would react.

18:09 pm

Aioya Apartment Complex

Apt. # 126-A

Aoshi closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the cool, green tile of his shower wall, forcing himself to focus on the solid ceramic stability…on the steady spray of water hitting the back of his skull. (Make me numb) Reaching back, he fumbled with the faucet, turning off the hot water, hissing when the spray on his shoulders and back became icy cold, the sensation robbing him temporarily both of his breath and the unwelcome, unwanted feelings that were surging through his mind and heart. (Make me forget)

Forget the blood spattered mental images that still plagued his waking thoughts and haunted his dreams…forget the sounds of his men…his friends and colleagues screaming in pain, the whispery hiss of a sound that a bullet made as it tore into human flesh and the explosive pop that sounded as a gaping exit wound was created. Sinking to his knees, he tried to forget…the taste of his own blood filling his mouth…his nose. And now, there were new things to try and forget about…Takani, hospitalized and in terrible pain, her bruised, broken body a reminder that once again he had failed to protect those under his command. (Make me feel….nothing.) It was a selfish wish and he knew it, the weak desire of a very weak man.

(I want to be strong…for them…I want to be the strongest.) Willing himself into imposed stillness, Aoshi forced himself to take several steadying breaths, to find a measure of peace within him, to package up his grief, sorrow and regrets and set them aside. (A strong leader…a good leader doesn't succumb to such weaknesses) Taking a deep breath, he set his strong hands against the wall, his neatly trimmed nails digging into the grout between the peaceful bamboo green tiles and pulled himself up into a standing position.

He was cold now, shivering violently as the freezing cold shower water continued to flow over him. (A strong leader…doesn't need anyone) Unbidden, he glanced over at his left hand, fixing his icy gaze on the slender circle of platinum that encompassed his fourth finger. It was foolish he knew, to still be wearing it, now that he was no longer technically married. (I'm alone now…by choice)The fact that Kanryuu had, despite his protestations to the contrary, nearly murdered another officer…a female officer this time only solidified the rightness of his decision.

In his single state, he could focus on what truly mattered, hunting down the murderer of his men, tracking a menace that was filling the streets with lethally powerful drugs, denying himself the company of the one woman he'd ever loved in the hopes that their separation would offer her a measure of protection. (It's better this way…I am free to hunt down Kanryuu and make him pay for his crimes…she's free to live a good, safe life)

The one remaining problem was that his stubborn wife (…no…ex-wife), he reminded himself sharply, refused to see the inherent logic of his thinking and was still a police officer, rising quickly through the ranks. (It's just a matter of time before she grows weary of this life…before she finds herself a safer occupation, a good man and settles down to have a family) It was the life he had always wanted for Misao, a life that at one time he had naively assumed he would share with her.

Grief, swift and sharp lit into him, followed closely by a wave of loneliness that was unnerving in its intensity. (I did what was best for her…there's no point in looking back or clinging to the illusion that I'll ever see her…let alone be a part of her life) Misao was gone, as lost to him as his dead officers. (I left her…told her that I never wanted to see her again)

Aoshi exhaled slowly once again, then pushing away from the water chilled shower wall, he turned off the water faucets and stepped out of the shower, bound and determined to clear his mind and focus once again on the case at hand. It was, after all, easier to think about a madman on the loose than moon over a woman whose tender heart he had deliberately destroyed. (I did what I had to do) Wrapping a towel around his narrow hips, he padded through his bedroom, finally coming to rest at the foot of his meticulously made bed.

Silently, he slipped on his pajamas. (There is no room in my life for regrets…no space for second guessing) Sliding himself betwixt the cool, sterile cotton sheets, Aoshi stoically stared up at the ceiling, willing himself to focus on every aspect of the sting operation, looking for any chink in the armor of Kanryuu's defenses, both legal and literal. (There is only work) Hours of silent planning passed, and slowly but surely sleep began to overtake him.

Ice blue eyes became heavy, black lashed lids struggling to remain open, his sharp mind rebelling both against the inevitable need for slumber and the unwelcome dreams that would surely accompany it. (…only duty…) Sliding soundlessly into sleep, Aoshi felt himself slipping …then helplessly falling…down…down…into a void where logic and self denial were no longer certainties, a colorless world where nightmares and daydreams walked hand in hand, mocking his efforts at emotional control, a dream warped landscape littered with his deepest fears and fondest desires. (…only her…)

The moon, waxing in ascendancy began to rise. Light, pale and cool emanated from it, sliding between the slits in the Venetian blinds, bathing his bedroom with slivers of shimmering nocturnal silver. The moonlight slithered upwards, across painfully neutral grey carpet…up…up an austere hued bedspread, creating patterns where none before existed. Quicksilver pools appeared, forming in the shallow creases of crinkled up sheets, atop puckered pillow cases...between the two slumbering figures lying amid the tangle of bedding.

Stirring slightly, Aoshi reached out a sleepy hand, running it slowly over the textured damask, then upwards, the sensitive pads of his fingertips dancing across the shoulder and then down the arm of the his wife, the arm of a woman he had not seen for nearly a year and a half.

(I'm dreaming…) Aoshi thought as he reluctantly pulled away from the moon drenched apparition that was Misao. He was, even in sleep, a logical, pragmatic man, unwilling to succumb to the beguiling sub-conscious manifestation of his loneliness. (This isn't real) In the back of his brain he knew with painful clarity that he was in fact alone, his bed unshared and empty, that the snoring woman curled up beside him nothing more than a figment of his imagination, a beautiful dream that would evaporate upon his waking.

(This is an illusion…nothing more) While his completely sensible brain kept reminding him of such matters, his less sensible, but far more honest hands took matters unto themselves, reaching out once again towards the slumbering woman, slowly…carefully. (She is, just as I remember her) Despite his intentions to roll right over, Aoshi found himself doing just the opposite. Patiently yet, persistently he touched Misao's ivory arms, caressed her shoulders, stroked her soft cheeks and petal pink lips, his touch feather light, his icy gaze hungry and haunted. (So beautiful…fragile…so small)

Compared to him, she was tiny, her slender limbs seeming almost childlike and fragile. A sly, almost possessive smirk flitted across his face, the ghost of a smile safely hidden in shadow. He and he alone knew differently, understanding in the way that only a husband could, that the person sharing his bed was indeed all woman.

(Roll over. Let me see you) Loneliness and lust combined, erasing his doubts and stoic restraint, creating a potent elixir that allowed him, for the space of a dream,to give into temptation. (Let me touch you) Leaning over, Aoshi pressed a whispery soft kiss against the hollow of her white throat, feeling under his cool lips her heartbeat thrumming, almost smiling against her skin when his amorous actions paid of.

With an inelegant snort, his bedmate rolled over onto her back, exposing both her form and features to him. (Let me love you) Again, he kissed her, this time focusing his attention on the juncture of her neck and shoulder, enjoying the salt tinged taste of her pale skin against his tongue, savoring the fading scent of the perfume he'd bought for her birthday.

Eyes scrunched shut, his wife crinkled her pert nose and snuggled closer to him, sighing a little sigh as she did so. "Mmmm…Aoshi?" Her voice was muzzy and low, her movements slowed down by sleepiness.

"Yes?" Aoshi murmured as he slipped his hands under the covers and beneath her favorite black cotton-poly tank top, cupping her small breasts with his large, almost steady hands, molding the sensitive globes until they fit perfectly into his palms, flicking the rosy tips until they were hard.

"Would you mind doing me a teensy, weensy little favor?" Arching like a cat, Misao caught her husband's earlobe between her teeth, sucking it into her mouth, knowing full well that it was guaranteed to drive her stoic spouse crazy.

"Of course not," Aoshi murmured his voice low and raspy with barely banked desire. "You need only ask." Lower and lower his hands went, skimming the smooth planes of her stomach, circling round her navel, then going further south, following the lines of her pelvic bone, venturing down toward to the juncture of her thighs, slipping past the boundary of her undergarments.

"I need, " Misao gasped, eyes fluttering open, then slamming back shut, her still waking body struggling to process the sensorial overload. "I need you to touch me."

"I am touching you," Aoshi quietly pointed out as he caressed her, his blue eyes shimmering with sardonic humor. "Is there any other way I can be of assistance?"

Lifting up her head, Misao gave him a saucy smile, and then began to place a series of open mouthed kisses along the line of Aoshi's jawbone, her tender lips contrasting with the prickly stubble that graced his cheeks and chin. "I need you to kiss me."

"I am kissing you," Aoshi said matter-of-factly as he rolled atop his wife, bracing his weight with his elbows, doing exactly as she asked. With extreme care he kissed her gently on the lips, forcing himself to keep the contact chaste, the pressure soft and comforting. Again and again, he sought out the comfort of her mouth, delighting in the sweetness of the seal.

"Do you have," He shuddered slightly when he felt her nails on his back, moving along the line of his spine, trailing down towards the curvature of his buttocks, "any other requests?"

Misao grinned impishly as she planted her heels into the mattress, bent her knees and parted her legs slightly, allowing Aoshi to settle into a more intimate position between them. "Just one."

"And what," Instinctively, Aoshi thrust against her, his hard length brushing up against the flimsy cotton barrier of Misao's underwear, "would that be?" Carefully he hooked his thumbs under the band of the offending garment, pulling it down, past her hips and down around her knees.

"I want you," Misao kicked off her panties, then became very still, her jadeite eyes fixing on her mate. "I want you to tell me you love me."

Bending his head a little, Aoshi placed a tender kiss on his wife's flushed cheek, allowing his cool lips to linger against the soft, soft skin. "You already know that I do," he whispered, knowing that it was true, lamenting inwardly why she felt the need to ask for such a simple admission of affection from the man she had consented to marry.

With care bordering on reverence, he kissed her again, closing his eyes when their lips finally met, drinking up every tactile sensation he could…the taste of her tongue, the scent of her skin, the way her body moved beneath his. Unbidden, a barely discernible groan escaped him, filling the moonlit bedroom with repressed, wordless grief, the sound so sad, that it caught both he and his wife off guard.

"Aoshi?" Misao captured his face between her little hands, her worried green eyes boring holes right through him. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" She waited in vain for him to reply, to share, trying valiantly to be patient, punctuating the silence with more kisses and caresses.

"Nothing," Aoshi shook his head, assuming his most neutral of expressions, blocking out the unpleasant feelings of loss and loneliness that were intruding at the most inopportune of times. For this brief moment, for the space of a dream, she was his, he was hers, their marriage and love secure and safe.

"I don't want you to worry," he ordered, his black brows creasing slightly. (You were not meant to have cares and concerns…) In his mind, Misao deserved only happiness, a world free of fear and pain, a sorrow free existence. (I will protect you, keep you safe) He bent down and gave her a reassuring kiss. (No matter what it takes I will not allow you to come to harm)

"I love you, Misao." Pulling her against him, Aoshi rolled onto his back, hugging her tightly against his chest. "Surely you know this."

"I do." Misao murmured, straddling his lean form, pulling her tank top over her head. "I love you too." Leaning back, she sank down upon him, gasping with pleasure, her high, breathy sigh providing a poignant counter point to Aoshi's deep moan. "I always have you know."

Aoshi nodded, too overwhelmed with sensations to say much of anything. It was too much, she was too tight, too wet, her warm velvet walls robbing him of his ability to think, to speak. His world shrank, becoming small and simple, his reality comprising nothing more than a bedroom bathed in moonlight, the bedsprings groaning beneath him, the scent of sex, of arousal, of love filling his nostrils, the sight of Misao riding him filling his vision, her pre-orgasmic shudders mirroring his own.

(This is what I had) Gripping her narrow hips, Aoshi arched upwards, burying himself in the welcome warmth of his wife's body. (This is what I've lost) Baring his teeth against the onslaught of sorrow, he thrust up into her again and again, his movements becoming hard and frantic as his climax bore down upon him.

"Tell me you love me." He ordered, his blue eyes burning. (I need to hear you say it…one last time) Because in truth, he knew, even in sleep, that it was all he could hope for, that in an attempt to protect his wife from harm, he had done the unthinkable… abandoning the one he loved best, breaking both her heart and his wedding vows in the hopes that he'd buy her a measure of safety against a monster who was hell bent on destroying everything and everyone he held dear.

"I love you!" Misao panted, her breath coming in little spurts. She was bathed in moonlight, her sweat slicked body shining in the darkness.

"I don't" Pressing his head back against his pillow, Aoshi tried to keep his orgasm at bay, trying to delay the inevitable parting that his release would bring, his subconscious need for closure blotting out his stern sensibilities. "want to lose you." Only in dreams, would he make such a damning admission.

"Don't be silly." Misao bent down, kissing him passionately. "Nothing's going to happen. You're not going to lose me!" As if to drive her point home, she caught her sweetheart's large, strong hands, lacing her fingers between his own, fiercely squeezing them in time to the rhythm of their lovemaking.

Gasping, half in pleasure, half in pain, Aoshi shook his head, fighting a losing battle against the pressure that was building up in his stomach and groin. "I already have," Urgently, he reached, his long fingers seeking the sensitive bundle of nerves between Misao's legs, needing to give her a measure of pleasure. Mouth agape, her leg muscles twitching, she responded to him, leaning further back to give him better access, offering up an erotic glimpse of their connected bodies.

Biting back a cry, Misao shuddered once, twice, her iris disappearing behind dilated black pupils as endorphins flooded through her body. "I don't understand!" She gave a little shriek, then stiffened, her question drowning under the rolling waves of orgasm. For the space of several stuttering breaths, she remained upright and rigid, too caught up in sensation to notice that the room around her was growing lighter, that the moonbeams were fading, that the silvery light of evening was giving way to pre-dawn duskiness.

Aoshi noticed though. Nothing slipped past him at that moment, not the rhythmic tightening of Misao's passage as she rode out the last vestiges of her climax, not the happy triumph in her satiated smile as she slumped down a bit atop him, her tensed up limbs becoming leaden. He noticed all of these things as he moved beneath her, memorizing every gesture, every little nuance that she offered him, his mind cataloging each beautiful image with frantic efficiency, his heart treasuring up the moment, saving up the sweetness.

Pain coupled with pleasure, twisting into a knot at the base of his pelvis. Up and down, in and out, the basic repetitive movements of mating became something special, the instinctual responses and reactions a treasure. He was close…so close….he wanted to wait, for the moment to never end…he…he…he was lost. Aoshi came with a silent cry, his release hard and hot. He groaned and reached up, instinctively seeking the comfort of his wife's embrace as he fell of the edge of reason, needing a last measure of comfort before the dream ended, before he had to endure losing her once again.

Dawn was bearing down upon him, racing against the pleasures that only a moonlit dream could offer him, the warm whispery rays of sunlight heralding a hateful morning, the gentle beams creeping menacingly towards the dream form of his wife. As he had predicted, things began to unravel, his release forcing him up…up out of the world of sleep and fantasy…up…up into the light, into harsh reality…up…up…away from her.

"I'm sorry," He tried to explain, to apologize, fixing his eyes on her now shadowy form. Already she was fading before his eyes, her figure evaporating like an early spring frost. (For not telling you this when I had the chance) It was a pointless gesture, apologizing to an illusion, an afterthought born from his heart's need for closure. Sunlight slithered up the bed, staining his sheets with brightness, ripping his heart apart with cheery efficiency.

Misao opened her mouth, reached out to him, her green eyes widening with horrified realization, her hands clutching at his chest, his shoulders, her fingers desperately seeking something to hold onto as she disappeared back into the realms of his mind. "No!" Tears, warm and wet welled up in her eyes, falling in sad spatters against her semi-transparent cheeks. "Aoshi …please..." Her voice, once full of life and love was now a muted whisper, her sobs a broken sigh. "Don't leave me!" Now nearly transparent, a mere wisp of condensed thought and longing, she collapsed unto his chest, weeping raggedly, the sounds of her grief muted by a strange, strident beep…beep…beep…BEEP!

Aoshi jerked upright in bed, a hoarse shout escaping him as his alarm clock began ringing. Fumbling, his motor skills shot, he reached over and slammed his fist against the snooze button, fighting against the urge to toss the damn clock right out the window. He ran his hands over his crumpled and rumpled covers, trying to untangle his legs from the bed linens, and get his heartbeat back to a normal level, then glanced down at his pajama bottoms and grimaced, dismayed that his body would betray him in such a manner. (I should be stronger than this!)

He had responsibilities, duties that demanded all of his attention and focus. (I will be stronger than this) Sweating and sticky, Aoshi stumbled out of bed, cursing beneath his breath when he accidentally stubbed his toe on the foot of the bed. (This is the last time that this will happen) He ignored the rather peevish voice in the back of his brain that reminded him that he'd made a similar vow nearly three weeks ago and limped towards the bathroom, determined to banish the evidence of his desire and longing from both his body and his mind once and for all.

Author Notes

Aoshi is impossible to write. Saitoh, I get. Sanosuke, I ADORE (I'm such a roosterhead), Enishi – I shamelessly dote upon, Kenshin – I can absolutely relate to. But Aoshi is hard to write well and I am still trying get a bead on this guy. I have the same problem with Soujirou. Hiko is too awesome and manly to even attempt. Oh well.

Lemon-type writing is also difficult and honesty, not very realistic. But…it does help you write action sequences better and is a challenge, so why not take a walk on the wild side once in a blue moon? Also – I hate the word "mewing" or "mewling" and will never include either term in a snog story, unless one of the characters is suffering from a case of terminal hairballs.

Saitoh + Kindergarten Program = Lots of kids with wet pants.

Sanosuke + Police Uniform = Drool on MightyMightyMunson's Keyboard.

Please review – and check out my other RK stories on . (As Time Goes By, Chicago Poems, Sour Lemons)