The sound of rain striking the window provided an enveloping white noise background, and the reflection of city lights in the droplets made a shifting constellation on the glass. There was a light on in the apartment, a desk lamp glowing dimly, providing barely more light than what shone in from the city below, but serving as just enough to reveal the figure of Barnaby seated and gazing out the window. The table nearby was littered with bottles and one empty wineglass, and Barnaby held another glass by its crystal stem, rolling it absently between his fingers. On one hand, it was clear how the night had proceeded to this point: he was surrounded by the evidence. On the other, he still had no idea how it got there.

He did know how the softly snoring occupant of his bed had gotten there: he'd carried him. Kotetsu had protested, had insisted that he could call a cab to get back to his apartment, since he was too drunk to drive. But Barnaby had quietly insisted that it was foolish to call a cab out here in this weather when there was a bed available. A seldom-used bed, truthfully, but he hadn't needed to add that part for Kotetsu's benefit. By now his insomnia was known to his partner. Still, he'd insisted, with his quiet command of logic, that it was far more reasonable for Kotetsu to sleep off his inebriation here, and he'd had finally given in.

It had felt rather odd to help him to bed. No, it was awkward, even considering all the times he had caught and carried his partner before. At the time he ignored those invasive thoughts in order to get the task done with minimal argument, but now he had no defense against them.

Barnaby sighed, setting the wineglass down in order to pinch the bridge of his nose. There wasn't anything to be done about it now. In the morning, Kotetsu would probably want an explanation for his unusual surroundings, considering he'd probably had enough to drink that his memory of the night before would be sketchy, and Barnaby would have to steel himself to endure the ridiculous eyebrow-waggling that would ensue. Because Kotetsu would probably turn the truth about what happened into some sort of bad joke.

"No, you're going to stay here, and that's final."

Kotetsu smirked, or tried to do so. Even at the best of times, his attempts to look smooth or cool ended up looking awkward, and being drunk only magnified that, so that his expression looked more like a lecherous leer. "Ahh, is that your plan in having me over? Get me drunk so I have to stay the night?"

"Stop that. That's not true and you know it. Come on, get up. I'm not wasting my power to carry you when you're reasonably able to at least help." Barnaby took Kotetsu's arm and tugged, and after a little resistance, pulled the man up to his feet.

"Oof, careful, Bunny, little too fast." Kotetsu's face had paled as he was hauled up, and Barnaby fought back the impulse to roll his eyes at the nickname. "Just give me a moment, okay?"

"Fine, but you're not getting any lighter in the meantime," he muttered as Kotetsu slung an arm over his shoulders.

"If all you're going to do is complain, I'll just walk home."

"You wouldn't even make it to the door on your own. Come on, old man, let's go."

It took a few awkward steps before they managed to find a rhythm of strides that would get them to the bedroom without either or both falling to the floor. Kotetsu's wine-laden breath was hot on Barnaby's neck, a detail that impressed itself into his mind. Their progress was in silence but for the beat of the rain until they got to the bed. A quick tap of the light controls gave the room dim illumination, but it was still enough to make Kotetsu squint and grunt in pain. Barnaby had to admit that his reaction to the light wasn't much better, and it was on its lowest setting. He hated to think of what his morning hangover was going to be like. He helped Kotetsu to the bed, set him down, and then carefully turned for the door.

"Hey, Bunny, I thought you hated shoes on the furniture."

Barnaby stopped. "I do, so take them off."

"Ah. I don't think that's gonna happen ri-right now."

He turned around, to see that Kotetsu had managed an inelegant sprawl back on the bed, his feet hanging over the edge. Kotetsu waved a hand in his vague direction, and Barnaby sighed. "The things I have to do for you, old man."

"Pah, you're the one who forgot. I know I'm still wearing shoes." Kotetsu seemed very pleased by that observation.

"You drank too much."

"You let me."

"I-" Barnaby paused and sighed. "Fine."

Kotetsu was obviously proud of this victory and not willing to stop there. "Hey, what about my clothes?"

He stopped and leveled a look over the rim of his glasses.

"They'll get wrinkled!"

"Then you'll have to deal with that. I doubt wrinkles will be the first of your concerns in the morning."

He frowned suspiciously. "What do you mean by that?"

Sighing again, Barnaby shook his head—then instantly regretted the latter. "I mean you're drunk."

"I know that. You should get some shochu if we make a habit out of this, it's stronger than all that wine we had to go through."

"Don't change the subject. You're drunk, so you're not going to be feeling good in the morning."

There was a long pause as the words sank in, and then a frown. "Then why did you let me drink so much?"

Barnaby pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're giving me my hangover headache already, old man. Sleep in your clothes." He turned again for the door.

"Hey! Bunny! Where are you going?"

He stopped, bracing himself against the doorframe as he replied. "To leave you here to sleep."

"But where are you going to sleep?"

"In my chair."

"In your chair, hah. You know, chairs aren't for sleeping, that's why we have beds." Barnaby had his back to Kotetsu now, but he could hear the glowing pride he had in that stellar observation.

"Yes. I have a bed. You are sleeping in it. So I'll sleep in my chair." Or not sleep, more likely, but he didn't need to add that.

"Stupid. Your bed is so huge. Come on, we can share it."

"We are not going to share a bed."

"Why not?"

"Because you are drunk. You're going to snore. I want to be far away from that."

"That's not a good enough reason."

He gritted his teeth. "It's the reason you have to live with. Goodnight, Kotetsu." And to forestall further argument, he shut the door as he left.

A flicker of lightning through the window jolted him out of his thoughts and back into the present. A few moments later came the rumble of thunder, and Barnaby mentally calculated the storm's distance, then filed away the information as irrelevant. He looked beside him at his glass and the remnants of Zinfandel in it, the deep red of the wine absorbing all light and rendering it sinisterly dark. With a soft sigh he reached for the glass, corrected his aim, and then finished off the wine, placing the now-empty glass back down and staring back out the window. Alone with his thoughts again. It wasn't an unusual situation, but usually the wine helped induce some sort of fatigue in him that he could turn into sleep. Not that he drank for the purpose of a sleep aid, but sometimes he just didn't want to be awake and vulnerable to all the troubles and doubts that the night brought to him. Unfortunately it seemed that tonight he had no choice.

In a way he was resigned to the chronic insomnia that had plagued him since his teens—and possibly longer—but that didn't make it any easier to bear. Sometimes it frustrated him nearly to tears, and sometimes he laid in bed staring at the ceiling with a dull apathy. Sometimes he didn't even bother with the pretense that was the pre-sleep ritual of undressing, and just stayed in his chair until fatigue overwhelmed him and rendered him unconscious. It never showed in daytime. He did his work as was needed, with the proper attention it required, and never permitted his lack of sleep to affect his performance. It was only his private life that was impacted, and in all honesty, he really didn't have much of a private life. Once, there had been research, news archives, old articles. But that was as much something he used to fill his sleepless hours as it was a pastime affected by his sleeplessness. And at any rate, it was over now. He had combed the resources at his disposal for any shred of information about Ouroboros, but nothing could be found. The unresolved truths of the organization remained secret. So he didn't even have that to turn to when he couldn't sleep. Just his thoughts. His frustrating, alcohol-afflicted, tangled-up thoughts, all centered around the man in his bed.

Partner. Kotetsu was his partner. Kotetsu was the single most important person in his life, the only person who had always been his ally. Even if it had started out rather rocky between the two, forced to team up and work together when neither wished to do anything of the sort, Kotetsu had always been on his side. He was oddly dependable, even at his most unreliable. Barnaby could count on him even back then, and that truth had grown to a massive certainty now. They had each other's backs. No criminal could get the best of them. They were the very best team.

No, no question that Kotetsu was the best partner he could ask for. But that was work. What about times like this? True, Kotetsu had invited himself over, but Barnaby hadn't objected, though he would have before. Previously, work was work, and Barnaby preferred to keep everything nicely compartmentalized, even if being the hero with his identity made public blurred some of those lines. But there had come a point somewhere along the way when spending non-work time with Kotetsu out of choice started happening, and then happening with more frequency. Now they were nearly always spending time together on the weekends. Last weekend they hadn't, and Barnaby had struggled with the unusual feeling of loneliness through those days. He was used to being alone, but being lonely was altogether new to him, and it was a frustrating sensation. Far from useful, too. What was there to gain from missing a presence that much? Even the ache of his parents' absence in his life didn't feel like this, muddled as it was by the passage of years and the uncertainty of his memories. Not having Kotetsu around, though, that had a sharpness to it, a pang that settled itself into his chest when he thought about it too long.

Like now.

He was startled by a bright flash of lightning, and the thunder that followed was no distant rumble, but a sharp crack followed by deep rolling booms that he felt as well as heard. It had to have struck close, maybe one of the lightning rods on this very building. With his heart racing from the adrenaline surge the bolt had given him, Barnaby leaned back in his chair, trying to slow his breathing and relax. Sleep would be even more difficult now, sitting here in full view of the storm rolling in, and that was even before considering the insomnia problem. He'd might as well resign himself to another sleepless night. Another night of his thoughts drifting uncertainly and always orienting themselves back in the direction of Kotetsu, and leaving him completely unable to find any rest.

"Bunny-chan?"

He blinked, peering toward the hall. A well-timed flash of lightning provided the illumination he needed to see Kotetsu leaning there, his clothes rumpled and his face concerned. Concerned, and also in pain from the assault of the bright light. Barnaby adjusted his glasses. "Kotetsu? I thought you were sleeping."

"I thought you were too. Or you were going to. Is it just the storm keeping you up, or is it the insomnia again?"

Barnaby frowned. Surprisingly perceptive of the old man. "In all honesty, the storm isn't helping," he finally responded.

"Neither is that chair, I bet. You can't fool me, it can't recline enough to be comfortable."

"It's comfortable enough," he retorted, feeling oddly defensive of his taste in furniture. "Besides, we went over this, you're sleeping in the bed."

"Except I'm not sleeping right now because I want to make sure that you're sleeping."

He had to piece that one together in his head. The wine was definitely getting to him and impairing his thought processes. "You shouldn't let that stop you. If you don't rest, you'll regret it in the morning."

It didn't take a flash of lightning to reveal the smirk of victory on Kotetsu's face: it was obvious in his voice. "Ahah, and so will you, Bunny-chan. You drank too."

"You drank more."

"Now you're the one changing the subject! Stop this silliness, Bunny. I bet if you come to bed you'll be able to sleep."

"Then where will you sleep, old man?"

"The bed's more than big enough for two!"

"We're not sleeping together."

"Not yet, anyway."

Barnaby's heart skipped a beat.

"Because we're still arguing when we could be sleeping."

Oh. He meant it literally, not euphemistically. Why did that both relieve and disappoint him? "Go back to bed, Kotetsu."

"Nuh-uh. Not without you."

"This is foolish."

"This is your partner looking out for you. I'm not going back to bed without you."

"For the last time, I'm fine, Kotetsu. And you were snoring. So I wouldn't be able to sleep there anyway."

"I do not snore." His voice was petulant now, and a little bit harder to hear over the roar of the downpour outside.

"You do, and I think that's where you really got your hero name from. It sounds like a cat snorting and growling. Go back to bed."

"It does not, and now you're the one changing the subject. Not without you. Besides," and a thin thread of smugness colored his voice, "I need help getting back to bed. I'm surprised you didn't hear me stumbling out here."

Barnaby's frown deepened. "You shouldn't have gotten up. And I won't let you trick me."

"But you will let me try to get back to bed without help?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You are unbelievable, old man."

"So are you! Refusing to help me, I can't believe my ears."

"Hard of hearing, too, because I didn't say I wouldn't help." Barnaby pushed himself up, blinking against the lightheadedness that afflicted him for a few heartbeats. Somehow he had the feeling that this argument wasn't quite going the way he wanted it to, but he couldn't quite put a finger on just how it was getting out of his control. This troubled him, as he made his way back over to Kotetsu and wrapped an arm around his waist, shouldering under his arm to support him. He had the distinct feeling that he was losing the upper hand, but the effect of the wine was just enough to confuse the issue.

The effect of the wine on his partner was a little more obvious in his stumbling steps, and the two of them made a few impacts into the wall, punctuated by the older man's grunts. But otherwise, Kotetsu seemed to be positively beaming, and this made Barnaby even more convinced that things were not going his way. As they reached the edge of the bed, he had his suspicions confirmed by the next words.

"There. Now take off your shoes and get in bed too."

Barnaby frowned. "That's not how it's going to go."

"Yes, it is," he insisted, "because now you're here, and it would be foolish to stumble back out to mope at the storm. Come on."

"Kotetsu." There was a tiny hitch in his voice that he hadn't intended to reveal.

And his partner hadn't missed it, because his own voice softened. "What is it, Bunny?"

"I don't think we should be sharing the bed," he said haltingly, trying to choose his words with care.

"Why not, Bunny?" His voice was still soft, and his arm had slipped down from his shoulders to linger around his waist.

"Because... Because..." Barnaby frowned in frustration as the right words for his nebulous uncertainties failed to reach his tongue. "Because you need to sleep."

"So do you, Bunny. And the bed is big."

"But it's not about that." His heart was beating faster, and there was that pang in his chest again.

"Then what is it?" Kotetsu, speaking softly, patiently, reassuringly.

"It's... Dammit, I don't know!" and his voice started to crack under the unexpected strain.

The arm around his waist tightened. "Hey, Bunny. Calm down, it's not a big deal."

His eyes were stinging and his hands were clenched. "If it's not a big deal, why are you making it one?"

"Because I don't know why you're making it one. Bunny, I just want you to try to sleep in your bed, and there's more than enough room for both of us in it, and we're both going to be miserable in the morning if we don't try to rest. We'll be miserable enough anyway."

He resisted the urge to take off his glasses and wipe his eyes, instead trying to blink back the sting. "Why are you doing this?"

There was a soft sigh beside him. "Because I think we're both too lonely. And I think it's stupid to be lonely alone."

"Isn't that how it works, though? Loneliness happens when you're alone." Barnaby tried to stifle the bitterness in his voice. He wasn't very successful.

"But that's my point. We won't be alone. We have each other. Partners, right?" Kotetsu shifted beside him, moving his head closer. "I know you have a hard time sleeping, Bunny. I think this might help, if you're not alone when you try to sleep."

Barnaby swallowed. "Is that what this is all about?"

"Oh, mostly. You just had to be stubborn."

"Hah. You would know stubbornness, I guess."

"I guess I would." The yawn that followed that statement indicated why the barb failed to draw a similar comeback. "I'm also tired and I'm going to fall asleep and I'd rather do it knowing you're okay."

"I was fine."

"You weren't sleeping."

"I was still fine."

"Come on, Bunny-chan. Just try it, okay? Humor an old man. I think it'll help. Maybe it will, maybe it won't, but we won't know until we try. And you might be easier to live with if you get a decent night's sleep."

His retort died on his tongue. Outside, the storm rumbled again. Kotetsu did have a point, if he returned to his chair he wasn't likely to get any better chances of sleep than if he was in his bed. Even if he was sharing the bed. Because as awkward as the concept was, it was slowly becoming less awkward in his mind. Maybe he was sincere about this and it was all for Barnaby's good. Or maybe for his own good as well. He'd said they were both too lonely. Oddly, that proof of Kotetsu's self-interest reassured Barnaby, rare as it was for Kotetsu to admit something like that, and he sighed softly and reached down to his boots.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm taking off my boots. We went over this earlier. Don't make me repeat myself so much in one night, old man."

There was a note of surprise in his voice. "You mean you're going to sleep?"

"Yes, after I get my boots off. Move that pillow over, old man."

"You need better ones," was the retort. "These are too firm."

"They're just fine to me."

"You hardly sleep, I think this might be why. You're trying to sleep on a brick."

"No, I'll be sleeping next to one." He placed his boots carefully beside the bed where he hoped not to trip on them. The morning was going to be awkward enough.

"I- Hey!"

"And you better not steal the blankets, old man." He took off his glasses and placed them on the bedside table, then laid back, determined to worry about his clothes later, rather than risk another argument with Kotetsu, given the earlier argument.

"And what if I get cold?"

"Then you'll have to deal with it. Remember, this was your idea, and my bed."

"Cruel Bunny."

"You invited yourself over to drink, too. It's all your idea."

"Cruel, heartless Bunny."

"Go to sleep, old man."

"Fine." The mattress didn't register much vibration as Kotetsu laid back, giving Barnaby hope that this might actually end in him sleeping, rather than awakened constantly by potential tossing and turning. "Just remember that the good parts are my idea, too. When you wake up in the morning and don't feel completely awful, remember that it was my idea."

"Whatever you say, old man." He settled his head against the pillow. Well, maybe Kotetsu had a point. A softer pillow might be worth a try. He gazed up at the ceiling, and his mind registered surprise to find his eyelids drooping closed. The argument with Kotetsu must have tired him out.

There was a soft chuckle in the dark next to him. "You'll see. This is going to work, and you'll be thankful in the morning that you got such good sleep."

In the dark, he felt safe in letting the corners of his lips twitch up into a smile. "We'll see," he agreed. Before he could even start to work his mind through the way it felt to be laying in bed next to Kotetsu, he felt his thoughts starting to drift in the aimless patterns that signaled near-sleep. And in part of the mental wandering, he realized that there was a certain comfort to be found in not being alone, and that he wasn't feeling that ache of loneliness anymore. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered a concern, noting that this required further consideration to determine the extent of the implications. But that train of thought slipped away from him, and he didn't have the energy or even desire to pursue it. He closed his eyes. He had almost drifted off when he heard the soft words next to him.

"Sleep well, Bunny."

He smiled. "You too, Kotetsu." No use borrowing trouble. He'd face tomorrow when it came.