It had been a rather sudden surprise. Not unwanted, but still unexpected. Oriya was in the garden, puffing on his pipe in the soothing night air when it happened.
He turned at the sound of footsteps.
Muraki stood at the door. His coat was sliced neatly across the shoulder, exposing a four inch long gash. He smirked as Oriya stood and gave him an appraising look.
"You look like hell." He informed Muraki casually.
"It's good to see you too." The doctor answered, amused. Oriya sighed and walked to his friend's side. No doubt Muraki would need him to cover something up again. Most likely murder.
"You're getting blood on the tatami." Oriya snapped waspishly, gesturing at the floor. Muraki frowned slightly, and looked down. Sure enough, a smattering of crimson drops marked his path.
"Oriya. I'm bleeding." Muraki said wearily. "I don't particularly care about your floor."
Oriya scowled.
"Well, I do. It's damn hard to clean you know. It'll cost a fortune, and you're paying for it."
"Gladly." Muraki answered. His eyes were slightly unfocused. The doctor slumped forward against his irate friend. Oriya caught him. The sticky cool feeling of blood on his front caused him to wince, as he imagined the cleaning bill for his yukata.
"You're a bastard Muraki." Oriya grumbled, shifting the man's weight in his arms.
"And yet you stay with me." Muraki reminded him, his words slurring slightly.
"Well, who else is going to cover your ass?" Oriya reminded him in an annoyed tone.
Muraki put his hands on Oriya's shoulders. He pulled himself up, until his face was level with the grouchy brunette. Oriya raised an eyebrow.
The doctor pressed his lips firmly to his friend's. Oriya stiffened. When Muraki pulled away, he smirked again.
"You know you love me for it." He said. Oriya resisted the urge to dump Muraki where they were standing.
"Bastard." He said instead. Muraki chuckled, and passed out.
"Sometimes I think I hate you." Oriya informed the limp body in his arms. He half-dragged his friend to a futon inside the brothel. He carelessly removed Muraki's coat and tossed it aside. The doctor had at least ten of the same coat anyway.
Oriya bandaged his companion with a sort of irritated gentleness. He was firm, but still careful not to do anymore damage. He mumbled curses under his breath as he worked; alternating between fury at his manipulative friend, and worry about his well being.
After he finished patching the unconscious man up, Oriya returned to his garden. The moon was waning; it had been full three nights ago. Truth be told, the brothel owner had been half expecting Muraki to appear. The silver-haired man had a bizarre fascination with the moon; he tended to do his dirty deeds when it was full.
"I just might hate you." Oriya murmured. "But then, you wouldn't care either way. Because you're a bastard."
He turned at the sound of footsteps.
Muraki stood at the door. His coat was sliced neatly across the shoulder, exposing a four inch long gash. He smirked as Oriya stood and gave him an appraising look.
"You look like hell." He informed Muraki casually.
"It's good to see you too." The doctor answered, amused. Oriya sighed and walked to his friend's side. No doubt Muraki would need him to cover something up again. Most likely murder.
"You're getting blood on the tatami." Oriya snapped waspishly, gesturing at the floor. Muraki frowned slightly, and looked down. Sure enough, a smattering of crimson drops marked his path.
"Oriya. I'm bleeding." Muraki said wearily. "I don't particularly care about your floor."
Oriya scowled.
"Well, I do. It's damn hard to clean you know. It'll cost a fortune, and you're paying for it."
"Gladly." Muraki answered. His eyes were slightly unfocused. The doctor slumped forward against his irate friend. Oriya caught him. The sticky cool feeling of blood on his front caused him to wince, as he imagined the cleaning bill for his yukata.
"You're a bastard Muraki." Oriya grumbled, shifting the man's weight in his arms.
"And yet you stay with me." Muraki reminded him, his words slurring slightly.
"Well, who else is going to cover your ass?" Oriya reminded him in an annoyed tone.
Muraki put his hands on Oriya's shoulders. He pulled himself up, until his face was level with the grouchy brunette. Oriya raised an eyebrow.
The doctor pressed his lips firmly to his friend's. Oriya stiffened. When Muraki pulled away, he smirked again.
"You know you love me for it." He said. Oriya resisted the urge to dump Muraki where they were standing.
"Bastard." He said instead. Muraki chuckled, and passed out.
"Sometimes I think I hate you." Oriya informed the limp body in his arms. He half-dragged his friend to a futon inside the brothel. He carelessly removed Muraki's coat and tossed it aside. The doctor had at least ten of the same coat anyway.
Oriya bandaged his companion with a sort of irritated gentleness. He was firm, but still careful not to do anymore damage. He mumbled curses under his breath as he worked; alternating between fury at his manipulative friend, and worry about his well being.
After he finished patching the unconscious man up, Oriya returned to his garden. The moon was waning; it had been full three nights ago. Truth be told, the brothel owner had been half expecting Muraki to appear. The silver-haired man had a bizarre fascination with the moon; he tended to do his dirty deeds when it was full.
"I just might hate you." Oriya murmured. "But then, you wouldn't care either way. Because you're a bastard."