I think I might have given people some misconceptions. The chapters are all separate, stand-alone, AU drabbles/short stories that can only belong in a collection such as this. Sorry for the confusion!


Title: Married Couples

Pairing(s): Batou/Togusa, Kuze/Motoko

Genre: Romance, angst.


He showed up at Motoko's wedding reception dressed in dark brown leather. The red motorcycle in the main parking lot explaining his unusual attire, Togusa came in quietly through the side door.

The party was in full swing when he entered. Kuze and Motoko were dancing up a storm in the middle of the exuberant floor. Togusa didn't pay them much attention. Instead, he searched the room thoroughly with his piercing gold eyes, and frowned when he realized that the person he wanted wasn't there.

Tucking his helmet more securely under his arm, he left the way he came before anyone could notice him.


The heavy thunk of motorcycle boots, no matter how faint, was still familiar enough to Batou to make him look up hopefully. But he knew it wouldn't be who he wanted; it never was.

Perched on the hood of his car, he flicked the cigarette in his right hand because he wanted to watch the sparks fly. He knew that his new habit, while not harmful to himself personally, was disgusting, which was why he'd taken it up in the first place. That way, he would have a tangible excuse to explain why he felt so awful.

He looked down at the cellophane wrapped package he clutched in his opposite grip and grimaced. My only vice, and I don't even enjoy it.

That was odd. The motorcycle boot-steps weren't fading away. They were getting a bit closer. Batou sighed and hunched his shoulders in his flight jacket. He hadn't bothered to dress nicely. He didn't bother with a lot of things, these days; manners, for example.

But he didn't feel like being an asshole right now, even to chase away a new visitor. Why did everyone and their dog feel that he was obligated to go back in? He didn't want to be here at Motoko's party. All the trouble in his adult life was because of her.

That's not true, the reasonable corner of his mind admonished. Togusa decided to leave you of his own accord. That's hardly her fault.

Batou flicked the cigarette to watch the sparks fly again before tossing it onto the concrete-covered ground. And still, the achingly familiar thunks drew closer.

Motorcycle boots. Why was he always tortured with motorcycle boots? Or the motorcycles themselves, for that matter? Had Togusa done what he had always jokingly threatened to do, and put a curse on Batou's head?

If Batou had been one to believe in magic, then he would have given the thought some serious consideration; because if there was anyone in the world that would have access to such things, it would be Togusa.

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

Batou scowled at the ground and lit another stick, even though he knew it was useless.

All of it, useless. Useless, trying to use the addiction as an escape. Useless, trying to escape from the memories, when the apartment was filled with them; trying not to think about the man that he shared them with, because Batou was still utterly besotted with him.

Speaking of, he could have sworn he'd heard the detective's engine a few minutes ago. And now the tromping of the boots. Had his pining finally caused a meltdown in his reality-matrix?

He blew out a lungful of smoke. The footsteps were merely yards away now. Whoever it was would be seeing him soon -- provided the person really existed. If he did exist, Batou pitied the fool almost as much as he pitied himself.

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

Tump.

Judging from the sound, the idiot was only a few feet away, and had stopped to stare. Batou shifted on the hood of the car and looked at the ground so he wouldn't have to glance up at the bothersome person's face. "You know, I'm not really in the mood for the party," he said. "Why don't you leave while your ego is still intact?"

The voice that replied was familiarly cool. "Good thing I'm not here to make you go back, then."

Batou couldn't breathe. His head snapped up. Faintly, he said, "Togusa."


Now that he was here, Togusa wasn't quite sure what he would do. Honestly, what kind of a madman based his impulses on six months of a purely sexual relationship and another year of celibate, desire-drenched memory?

Madmen like me, apparently.

Not bothering to ask for his ex-lover's permission, Togusa hopped up next to him on the hood of the car, balancing his helmet on his knee. He realized that he couldn't look at Batou right then. "I miss you," he said without ado. Might as well get out in the open.

Beside him, Batou jerked. Obviously, not what he had been expecting.

Tough nuggets.

"You...what?"

"Miss you. Miss us."

Breathe deeply. Exhale. Amazingly enough, he hadn't dropped dead from embarrassment.

"Close your mouth, Batou."

There was a sharp click next to him. Then, silence. Intolerable.

But then Togusa remembered that it was his inability to tolerate such silence that had been the lead-in to this entire problem, and he choked back his protests.


Batou was still finding it almost impossible to breathe. He sucked in air at odd intervals and let it out in ragged wheezes.

Togusa was here. Right here, right next to him.

He looked the same. He looked better than the same. Gorgeous. Eatable. It should be illegal for some one to look that good, dressed like that.

But Togusa also looked tired. The ever-present circles under his eyes were darker and deeper, and there were new lines at the corners of his eyes. His hair was longer and shaggier -- very different from what Batou was used to.

Batou realized that he was finally breathing normally. Thank God. And even better; he knew what he wanted to do.

He didn't wait for Togusa's permission. He simply leaned over, grabbed the back of the natural man's head with both hands, and kissed him as hard as he could.

Togusa's reaction was gratifyingly immediate. He slipped his right arm around Batou's neck and leaned into him as his left hand settled on the cyborg's spine, his tongue stroking and caressing. He let Batou push him down onto the car-hood, which sent his helmet tumbling to the ground. Neither of them noticed.

Finally, they had to break apart to breathe. Togusa laid his cheek on the cool metal underneath him as Batou entwined his fingers further into ginger-brown hair.

"Does this mean we don't have to talk about it?" Batou asked hopefully.

Togusa leaned up to plant kisses on his neck. "No such luck."

Batou sighed and nestled kisses of his own on the back of Togusa's neck. "I vote we leave."

"Agreed. Ahhh..."