a/n: I went to a wedding yesterday, and ended up taking care of a drunk friend who is twenty or so years my elder. Enough said. xD

This is a two-shot, never fear the abrupt ending!

My first Tsubasa fic with actual character interaction that isn't canon. Concrit is MUCH appreciated.

Beware of OOC. First attempt, again, at writing these characters. xD

Disclaimer; don't own, if I did then Sakura would probably be scarred for life from walking in on her brother and his "friend" several times. ;D

Kiss the Bride

Fai hated weddings.

The grand total of such holy ceremonies he had attended was six, the most recent being the rather extravagant wedding of Syaoran, his godson, and his girlfriend of three years Sakura.

The couple was twenty. Fai was thirty-six.

That depressing fact aside, Fai hated weddings. They were too expensive and pointless – why celebrate the union of two people that had a half a chance of separating some point in their lives anyway? It was a total waste of money.

That was Fai's opinion, at least.

Of course he, the mid-thirties bachelor, was judged by many to have missed the boat and was largely the butt of a joke or the victim of an apology when the alcohol was poured. Proud grandmothers in their eighties, hanging off their husbands' arms and balancing a glass of wine between their bony fingers, always saw fit to give a sympathizing pat on the shoulder or flash a wrinkled grin at the lithe blond. They would say, in their wizened and soft voices, "Don't worry yourself, lad, you'll find that girl someday." This advice always had the opposite effect, seeing as the intended recipient was (blatantly) gay.

It was the grandmothers, then, who were the ultimate receivers of sympathy – Fai refrained, every time, every comment, from blowing their stereotypical minds and just announcing "I'm gay, already!"

The male had manners, at least.

If Fai was ever to be married, he decided, he would do it at a Vegas chapel, a quick ceremony with no strings attached. Nobody but himself and his love.

And of course, no hellish creation known as a wedding reception.

Words could not describe the evils a wedding reception contained.

Fai constructed this whole internal monologue while standing in an elevator, a wasted Touya leaning on his shoulder and an apologetic Yukito frantically trying to support his drunken friend, spouting apologies as he looped Touya's arm around his own neck to heft him to his feet.

"I leave him alone for twenty minutes and he's drunk six bottles of Corona, oh my God I'm so sorry, don't worry I'll get him to the room fine-"

Fai plastered a fake comforting smile onto his face with practiced ease. "It's perfectly fine. I don't mind! Not at all!"

In reality, having the drunk and quite attractive male use him as a pillow was a bit disconcerting, as Touya was obviously taken. Yukito shouldn't try to act single – he wasn't too convincing.

The elevator door clanged open when it reached the sixteenth floor, and the wasted/sober couple stumbled out into the hallway. Yukito gave a feeble wave in farewell, which Fai returned with much (half-assed) gusto.

The dark metal gateway shut again, rising to the thirty-second floor.

Fai slumped against the posh wooden walls tiredly, all traces of his hyperactive, cheerful, and interested mask gone. Some days, the act was more taxing than it had any right to be – how hard could it be for a Psychology major to fool casual friends into thinking he was all sunshine and rainbows?

The question, a half-formed thought bubble, was swept from his mind as an unwanted memory from the earlier reception resurfaced.

A memory in which the bride made a surprisingly insightful comment, that Fai kicked himself over still for making so obvious.

The analog clock above the doorway to the large party room read 10:47. Approximately six hours ago, the newlyweds had arrived, and by now everyone was busy getting drunk and celebrating.

The DJs, also a newlywed couple if their linked hands under the table and their heads pressed together over the laptop weren't sending him the wrong vibe, had chosen the best song ever to play at this moment.

That statement wasn't dripping sarcasm; it was secreting it, exuding it like a particularly gross and slimy bug.

Fai squashed that metaphorical bug as the stupid song blasted its chorus:

There ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from getting to you!

The congregation thought fit to sing along – off-key or not – so that the overall effect was a wave of two hundred voices proclaiming that love was unstoppable.

Needless to say, Fai was not pleased. Currently his blonde-mopped head was in his hands as he fought back a pounding headache which was most certainly NOT brought on by the seven cans of Miller Lite next to him on the table. He had already confessed to being an alcoholic, enjoying the taste of booze above solid sustenance of any kind.

With that also came the practiced ability of being able to hold his alcohol just fine, often not having any side effects besides slight double vision. The only thing this handicapped was his ability to fight, as he had learned his seventeenth time out drinking too much at a bar and accidentally getting into a drunken brawl with another patron.

Sakura knew this – the male's ability to act sober, at least, which is why she came over with an innocent frown on her face which really shouldn't be there since it was her reception, after all – and professed sympathy by way of one petite hand on his shoulder.

"Fai-san, are you all right?" she questioned, her head tilted to the side. Her Japanese roots showed through as the honorifics carried over, despite her fluency in English.

Fai wanted nothing more than to go crawl into a hole at that particular time, really, but he buried that desire quickly under a sickeningly false smile which he instead presented to the girl.

"No, I'm fine really, Sakura-hime," he responded with the sobriquet he'd had for her the second she used an honorific in his company.

She caught the flattery, giggling and smiling softly with the glow of a bride happily in love, though her face quickly turned serious again.

"You're lying."

"No, I'm just fine," the blonde protested. The brunette shook her head.

"I can see the way your eyes strain, Fai-san, and the way the corner of your mouth twitches every now and then." Her voice was kind but stern, obviously practiced judging by the man that was her husband. "How long have you been lying to me?"

"........" He really was not obliged to answer that question.

"........" Sakura looked at him, then looked at her husband across the room, and then looked back.

"When you decide to tell us the truth," and her tone utterly broke Fai's heart, "please talk to us."

And she walked away in her pale dress, not looking back once.

There ain't no mountain high enough!
Ain't no valley low enough!
Ain't no river wide enough!

The crowd roared its approval as Sakura took Syaoran's outstretched hand and was led onto the dance floor.

Fai planted his head firmly on the table, spilling a glass of water on the other side.

The blond banged his head against the side of the elevator in much a similar fashion.

"Why," he raised his searching gaze to the carpeted ceiling of the metal box, a sub-par God, "Dear God, why do I have to go through this every time?"

The elevator announced its arrival sooner than expected, and Fai glued that imitation of a smile to his face again as he prepared to disembark –

And cast a glance towards the floor chart above the door, which read floor twenty-two.

"What the—"

The door shunted open with a ding, and a fancily-dressed but slightly disheveled man with spiky black hair stepped in.

"Wrong floor," he offered by way of explanation, shaking his head to dislodge the buzz of alcohol as he reached for the already-lit 32 button. He pressed it again.

"From the wedding reception?" Fai asked, feigning interest and channeling a few more watts into his smile.

The man hummed a yes, obviously too buzzed to properly string a sentence together.

The door shut with an ominous clang.

He stumbled as the elevator began to move, climbing ten stories at an agonizingly slow pace.

Fai pushed two palms to the taller man's shoulder blades before he could be fallen on, steadying him enough to grasp a railing.

"Sorry," he mumbled, clutching the post of metal like a lifeline.

"It's fine. What's your name?"

".... Kurogane."

"Hmm... Bo-ring!" Fai did not know what possessed him to say the following sentence. "I'll call you Kuro-tan!"

The raven-haired man's face noticeably darkened despite the universal bubbly feeling alcohol gave. "Call me that again and I'll rip your head off," he growled menacingly, all traces of drunken stupor gone.

"Ahh, it seems I've made Kuro-woof angry!" the blond giggled, whether fake or not was debatable.

Kurogane's eyes narrowed, not missing the narrow loophole the shorter and thinner man had caught. "I'll rephrase – call me anything besides my given name again and I'll maim you." It took him a moment – he blamed it on the alcohol – to process the second half: "AND I AM NOT A DOG!"

"My name is Fai." The blond grinned. The taller man focused on that, and through his alcohol buzz made a symbolic comment.

"Don't smile if you don't want to."

The shorter tensed. "What do you mean?"

"That's a terrible mask. I can see right through it," the not-drunk man elaborated. Fai was stunned.

"H-how—"

"Don't know," Kurogane waved his hand dismissively, "seems like an act you've obviously practiced would be more convincing than that, or maybe I'm just psychic." The last part was said with obvious sarcasm.

"Huh," Fai blinked, and then smiled cheerily. "Maybe you are psychic, Kuro-pun!"

"Damn it, I told you not to smile if you didn't feel happy, didn't I?!" Kurogane reprimanded, utterly ignoring the pet name, as drunk as he was.

"But I want to smile," Fai protested despite the very obvious strain of the illusion.

Kurogane grumbled something unintelligible.

The elevator ground to a halt at the thirty-second floor, opening to admit its passengers to the quiet hallway. Kurogane made to step out, but stumbled as he made the reach over the elevator door track. Fai was suddenly there, again using his palms as support so the man wouldn't make a spill and injure somebody.

"What room number is yours?"

Kurogane pinched the bridge of his nose. ".... I don't remember."

The blond was all smiles, though inwardly sighing in frustration. "Do you have your key?"

The taller groped around in his pockets, coming up empty. "Left it someplace."

Fai laughed, knowing he would regret this part. "Then you can stay on my couch!"

Kurogane twisted around to stare at the blond, who was still smiling widely. His eyes narrowed again. "Are you being fake or real?"

"Kuro-pippi, I assure you, I am totally real!" he declared.

"I'll kick your ass," Kurogane threatened hollowly as his face heated. He turned back around. Why the hell am I blushing?

The blatant lie went unchecked as the strange procession made its way down the hotel hallway.

Fai produced the key to room 3234 with grace, sliding the key card through the door lock just once to open it.

Kurogane was indignant. "It takes me at least five tries to open the damned door!" he complained.

The blond smirked. He opened the door with one hand, still using the other placed between Kurogane's shoulder blades to stop him from hurting himself by overbalancing. He may speak coherent drunk, but the man was no tightrope walker.

He was steered into the room by his gracious host, immediately shedding his suit jacket and draping it over the armrest of a nearby chair.

Fai disappeared to put his own jacket – that now smelled of alcohol thanks to the drunken man – in his closet. He returned to find Kurogane sprawled out on the couch, a remote in his hand, boredly flipping through late-night infomercials.

"Do you want a blanket?" Fai called from the doorway of the living room.

"No thanks," Kurogane declined, distractedly waving his hand in a dismissing motion at the blond.

"Okay!" Fai trilled tiredly. "Good night then!"

He walked to his bedroom door, straining his ears as he reached for the doorknob.

The blond only just caught the murmur of a response: "Good night."

It was six forty-three in the morning, and it was really too early for anyone who had drunk a substantial amount last night to be up, but Kurogane ignored this.

The price for ignoring came in a pounding headache centered at the crown of his forehead, and Kurogane cradled his head in his hands in agony as he groped for the window blinds.

"Nngh," he moaned as the light seared his eyelids, his hungover brain prompting him to curl into a tiny ball to escape the pain. This was how Fai found him fifteen minutes later as he crept into the living room to rummage in his cooler for a parfait.

"Ne, Kuro-chan!" Fai jumped as the taller rolled over in complaint of intrusion, still clutching his head. "You shouldn't be up this early; you drank too much last night!"

Kurogane grumbled an answer that was acceptable for someone as hungover as he was.

Fai shook his head, still smiling. "Go back to sleep, Kuro-wanwan."

"Damn it," Kurogane moaned as he rubbed his temples with his palms, "don't mutilate my name again, you... mage!"

"Mage, Kuro-pi?" Fai was genuinely interested. The vein throbbing in Kurogane's forehead was almost visible.

"Guy mages are obviously gay. You are too. It fits," he argued faintly.

Fai's smile faltered, but the other did not notice, lost as he was in the throes of his hangover. "You're... sleeping on the couch of a homosexual," the blond pointed out quietly. "That doesn't bug you?"

"I'd be a hypocrite," the raven-haired man stated simply.

"... Oh."

"Yeah."

The silence was awkward, but remained unbroken for several minutes.

Finally the couch gave as Fai, still holding his parfait, seated himself beside Kurogane. The taller looked up from fighting back his hangover in surprise.

The blond ruffled Kurogane's hair, who protested weakly. "Kuro-kuro, you owe me."

The lithe man looped an arm around the other's shoulders comfortingly.