There were some hazards to escaping the hotel's VIP bar and mingling with the common clay of the Dark Tournament, Sakyo thought, spreading his legs and taking another sip of his drink. It was one thing to have to listen to ugly men accost waitresses and make deals for human or demon flesh to pass a pleasant night. It was another thing entirely to listen to a human boy drunk past inhibitions, explaining to an attractive cocktail waitress that she was "pretty, but nothing on his Yukina," who he "wasn't sure would ever love" him.
Kazuma Kuwabara was a sloppy drunk, goofy, slurring, and falling down. Distasteful. He hadn't noticed Sakyo yet, though he was guzzling down another Kirin, slopping it over himself and laughing like a fool. Urameshi had already noticed the presence of the Toguro Team's owner, and Toguro behind him. Sakyo didn't reflect on the sight they presented—intimidating, but Sakyo was used to that.
Sensing a collision brewing between the rollicking and lively Urameshi section and the Toguro Team's somber drink, customers were slipping from the bar—braver ones merely moving out of the line of fire. Yusuke himself was keeping a wary, angry, half-frightened eye on his enemies, and trying to persuade Kuwabara to leave, voice oddly muted for the usually loud and bragging Urameshi.
Kuwabara was still mooning, and babbling, the waitress already escaped to another part of the room. "K'rama has s'ch pretty hair too."
"Ha! Say that to his face and you'll wake up with a plant in your dick, Kuwabara. Now come on, let's go."
Sakyo smirked and turned back to his bourbon, considering paying the tab and going up to his room instead, when he heard Kuwabara start shouting, and Toguro start shifting, boots creaking menacingly as he prepared to defend his client. Glancing back, however, Sakyo was sure he saw an indulgent smile on Toguro's lips. Urameshi followed anxiously on Kuwabara's heels, eyeing his enemies, then Kuwabara's head, clearly debating knocking him out and manhandling him back to their room.
"Hey, bastard! Whatever th' fuck your name is—Sakyo! I got a bone t'pick with you."
Sakyo blinked, and subtly motioned Toguro to stand down.
"Kazuma Kuwabara. A pleasure."
Kuwabara blinked at the bland response. Then, his face turning rosy with irritation, the fifteen-year-old punk opened his mouth to start shouting again, and then paused, looking away from Sakyo's face.
"You have pretty hair too," he muttered, to Sakyo's disgust, and then, his huge body coming to an end of its alcohol endurance, he careened to the side. Sakyo didn't even dodge the falling body, sure that Toguro would be there in good time, but Yusuke had been watching Toguro and not Kuwabara. He parried the sudden movement, grabbing a meaty arm with a fist enhanced with spirit energy, provoking a stalemate.
Sakyo let out an oomph at the heavy body that crushed him, and breathed out in an angry hiss as all movement settled, and small eyes blinked up at him from a compromising position.
Kazuma Kuwabara was nestled between his legs, grease from his pompadour haircut and the contents of Sakyo's glass staining previously spotless pants. His mouth was right against Sakyo's limp cock, and, to Sakyo's outright revulsion, he could feel his breath through all the layers of cloth.
"Urameshi, what the fuck just happened?" Kuwabara asked, in a strained, high-pitched voice, the fear and desperation that had led to his buddy trying to drink him into oblivion returning with force. Seeing an unexpectedly young-looking face staring up at him in fear was the final straw—he was so accustomed to being aroused by an expression like that that he was, in fact, aroused.
Then a big hand grabbed the oaf's collar, and Kuwabara was dragged clear off his feet.
"Unsightly," Sakyo growled. Toguro's hand tightened, and he pulled the terrified boy up to whisper something in his ear. Kuwabara's angular face sunk, crestfallen, but Toguro tossed the boy lightly back to his team's captain instead of following up on the anger in his client's voice.
Yusuke, looking too scared to be amused, as he undoubtedly would be later, ducked under Kuwabara's arm and began quickly dragging him away.
"Urameshi, wha' the hell just…"
"Kuwabara, you're an idiot, we need to get the fuck outta here." Both of the men left behind heard that line with two very different mixes of emotion.
Toguro stood watching Sakyo silently. Sakyo, infuriated, looked down at his pants with distaste. He examined his empty glass, and almost snarled.
"I need another drink."
Toguro smiled. He had, in fact, been smiling the whole time.