It was way too fucking early for this, there was frost on the ground for gods' sakes, who'd be out this early except morons and people hurrying to work with heads bowed and no intention to cause trouble? But still, here he was, patrolling Dry Juice's turf just in case somebody tried to stake a claim to it at 7am, what was even more annoying was that he was only doing this because he couldn't sleep and the normal guy had called in sick, though he sounded more hungover. But in spite of his protestations, here he was, thinking to himself he'd rather be in bed or doing something actually useful like going for a jog, looking almost longingly at his normal route up through to the junk yards. He huffed a sigh, taking a drink of the flask of coffee in his hand and just being thankful he could wrap up warm, wondering absently if Hayato, Sora and Nobu were okay, they had just moved into an apartment together, which to his knowledge still had no heating. He decided to drop them a line later just in case, he couldn't have his team getting sick, not if the rumours that there was a new team steadily gaining members were true, he refused to lose their position as number one on the island.

He shivered despite his thick hoodie and double layered t-shirts under it, wishing he'd thought to bring a scarf, though his hood kept his ears warm and his nose wasn't running quite yet, so he supposed it could be worse. He knew the route like the back of his hand, turning left down an even smaller alleyway, only wide enough for one person at a time and crisscrossing with pipes and ventilation ducts that spewed out steam. It ended suddenly, at Dry Juice's official hangout, looking the same as always, tag art resplendent and not yet fading where it graced the wide set of stairs and some of the boarded up windows and walls surrounding it. The crates and empty fuel canisters where people sometimes sat to play cards were still set up, and everything seemed to be in order, as he'd expected. There was some noise coming from the alleyway across from the stairs though, the one he knew led to a dead end, a fairly sized rectangle where he often let the team practice fighting, as long as they didn't actually hurt each other too bad.

It was probably just some kids messing around, like those three brats he knew enjoyed destroying stores then running away, two boys and a girl he thought they were, wiping his nose as he strode confidently down the alley. He ducked under a thick black pipe, cracked and useless, dripping cold water into a puddle on the potholed ground underneath, eyes regarding the smashed glass and the broken splinters of wood, those were new.

He knew what he was dealing with the second he saw them, dressed totally inadequately for the cold but pretending not to shiver, the nearest man to him had an outlandish Mohawk type hairstyle. But it was the tattoo that made him groan softly even as he carefully picked his way over the hazard strewn floor, sidestepping a nail gracefully, a bikini-clad woman, with grossly blown-up beasts, riding a hot pink bomb.

Bug Bomb, again, did they ever do anything but cause trouble? It seemed not, three of them were surrounding another, smaller looking guy who was pressed up against the wall, and on Dry Juice turf too, one of them having the audacity to rest his palm on their tag art.

He didn't say anything, but he was exasperated because this happened a lot, they had no sense of how Rib even worked and walked around as if everywhere was theirs, waiting til members of other teams dispersed before moving to stand in their areas as if they'd actually done something to earn a place there. In terms of actual fighting to earn their own turf, they never seemed to show any interest in it, usually running from a fight unless it was against a weaker opponent, as seemed to be the case here. He cleared his throat as he approached, raising an unimpressed eyebrow and knowing his appearance alone would be enough to scare them away from whoever they were harassing, it usually was.

"What do you want asshole?" One of them demanded, clearly not recognising him, maybe because of the hood over his head, expression turning steely as he pulled it down, not used to being addressed so rudely by trash like this and not particularly appreciating it.

His friend turned at the disturbance too, sneer falling into the look of pure panic he'd expected, elbowing his friend hard in the side hard and earning a growl of annoyance and an open handed smack to the back of his head. "Shut up idiot! That's Mizuki!" He almost hissed it, regarding him like one might a particularly terrifying teacher and promptly backing away, smile almost apologetic, though Mizuki didn't give a single fuck how apologetic they might be.

"Who?" The third spoke up now, and he was either a new member or had his tattoo in an unsavoury location, Mizuki didn't really care to think about that, listening with vague amusement as they talked about him instead of just doing what they were bound to do anyway, running.

"He's the leader of Dry Juice! The biggest team on the island," he hissed, offering Mizuki a rather thin smile in apology. "We were just cleaning up for you."

His raised eyebrow and step forwards made them back away as one, eyes too focused on them, because really they were too fun to scare, "on my team's turf?"

"Um…" It was obvious they hadn't expected to be caught, looking between each other as if trying to find some way to avoid a fight that wasn't coming, Mizuki was bored of them by now though, they obviously didn't have two brain cells to rub together.

His raised hand made one of them audibly whimper and he heard a snort from their still unidentified victim, just behind him, pointing his thumb back down the alleyway. "Go on, fuck off." It took another step forwards and a vaguely stern look before they were fleeing, arguing amongst themselves even as they ran, because apparently one of them had told them it was a bad idea. "Jesus…"

He shook his head as he watched them go, rubbing a hand across his forehead and turning to their potential victim with a concerned expression, glad he seemed to have arrived before things got nasty. "Hey, are you oka-"

He froze, words dying in his mouth, because he recognised that amused smirk, yellow eyes gleaming up at him from where he stood quite casually, leaning on the wall and examining his fingernails absently as if he hadn't just been outnumbered, three to one.

"Sly," he remarked, and honestly he wasn't even surprised it had been him, who else was so hated they would encourage one team to wander into another's territory just to pick a fight with them? "Why am I not surprised? Having fun, were you?"

"You know me," he shrugged, smirk almost friendly and presumably whatever personality trait that had set the Bug Bomb guys against him wiped away, if anything he looked quite approachable now, maybe even pleasant. "Making new friends every day."

He snorted at that, because Sly and making friends were not things anybody would associate with each other, he was more likely to make enemies, and seemingly had just this morning. "With Bug Bomb? What awful taste."

"Oh they're good for a laugh," Mizuki had to agree, if any Rib team could be deemed shambolic and unorganised it was Bug Bomb, who seemingly had no leader, no rules and could be joined by anybody getting the tattoo and announcing themselves a member.

"So what did you do to piss them off? And don't say nothing," although, from what he knew of Sly's reputation from Tio and the rest of his team, it was very possible they'd picked a fight with him purely for being him.

"I was just having a nice, early morning run, and they decided to follow me," he spoke as if he'd been attacked for no good reason, but Mizuki's eyes had narrowed at his innocent tone, because that wasn't him.

"Running from who?"

"Do I have to be running from someone? You have no faith in me," he remarked, but he was grinning, face dropping into a truer expression a second later. "I got caught trying to nick something, their gran owns the shop or some shit."

"Hm," Mizuki laughed out a huff of air, because of course it was something like that, his lie of going on a casual run hadn't tricked him for a second, it seemed like exactly the sort of thing he would do, and Mizuki supposed if he was in Bug Bomb's place, he might have given chase too. "What were you trying to steal?"

His eyes had narrowed, relaxed expression closed off again behind his mask of self-preservation, "why you want to know?"

The bartender shrugged, taking the last mouthful of his coffee and immediately mourning its loss, metal already cooling against his hand, "nosiness, curiosity, call it what you will."

Sly seemed to weigh this up for a second, nose flushed red with cold and hood of his thin jacket pulled up over his head, hiding his trademark blue hair and chunky headphones, maybe trying to be invisible. He answered grudgingly, staring off at a used needle in one corner of the dead end, "blanket."

Mizuki blinked, because he hadn't expected that, he'd thought maybe he'd say cigarettes or alcohol, or perhaps some trinket that caught his eye, but a blanket? Something so basic and essential seemed almost cruel to deny him, even if he was stealing it, "It is getting colder."

"Yeah," he replied, eyebrows crinkled almost in disbelief at the obviousness of his words, but clearly trying to change the subject, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"What do you think they were going to do?" He asked, he knew Bug Bomb weren't exactly the most ethically sound team, so beating Sly up for an attempted theft did not sound below them.

"Beat the shit out of me," he spoke like it was obvious, seemingly not at all bothered by how close he'd come to being beaten, and probably fairly badly too, just shrugging like it was normal, which he guessed it probably was. "But luckily I had my Prince Charming to come save me."

"Not superman any more then?" He asked, and he was grinning, because Sly was a piece of work, and he wanted to know him better, his shifts in personality and expression fascinated him, how rapidly he could shift to a cheeky teenager was almost disorientating.

"Nah, you got promoted," he was searching his pocket, removing a packet of cigarettes and lighting one, pursing his lips at the box for a second before offering Mizuki it, scoffing softly as he shook his head and removed his own pack. It felt somehow cruel to take his cigarettes when he obviously had to risk a beating just to get them, plus the pack only had two left and Mizuki made it a rule not to take anybody's last cigarettes, even if they insisted.

He lit up too and exhaled white smoke into the cold air, dragon breath filling the space between them, the silence was rather nice, and once again he wondered why people hated Sly so much, sure he had questionable methods of getting things, but Mizuki's experience of him had yet to become unpleasant. But still, something was on his mind, "pretty shitty to beat you up when you didn't actually steal anything."

He was almost frowning, eyes downcast as he tapped ash off his cigarette and watched it tumble to the ground, "yeah well, people don't exactly need a reason."

He was going to object, to say that beating somebody up for something they'd done to someone else was shitty, not to mention illogical, but Sly was standing up off the wall, straightening out his jacket and pulling his earphones up.

"As lovely as this was," his expression spoke false politeness, but his smirk was teasing as he span round on his heel, walking backwards out of the alley and ducking the pipe without even looking. "I have beatings to avoid so…"

Mizuki snorted at that, only Sly could use that as a way to end a conversation, "don't get killed," he yelled after his now retreating back.

"I make no promises!" He called back, and what was most worrying was that he, of all people, really couldn't make promises about that, Mizuki had the nasty feeling a few people on the island wouldn't hesitate to kill him, or at least inadvertently finish him off.

The temperature continued to plummet that week, winter seemingly coming early for the residents of Midorijima, who had to change from short sleeves and sun hats to scarves and gloves within what seemed like a few days. People everywhere were talking of the mainland being effected too, but obviously they were worse off, stuck in the middle of the ocean, icy winds came from every direction and the cold breeze from the sea chilled to the bone. Already Mizuki had dragged his extra blanket out of the attic along with his warmer clothes, matching beanie and scarf, and his trusty fingerless gloves, or hobo gloves as his team affectionately called them. His plans of a week before to begin jogging in the mornings again fell away as he attempted one day only to feel like he was dying as he choked in icy breaths, body shivering as his sweat dried and almost seemed to freeze on his skin, and he vowed to just use his treadmill instead.

As usual, plans were put into action in case some of the team got sick, as they always did when it got cold, one member already suffering with nasty flu and others getting sick every day, with small colds, or with more serious ailments. The bar was to be opened only on Friday and Saturday night, though tattoo appointments could still be made and handled by Mizuki, he knew people didn't want to walk to the bar in this cold, whether to work or for entertainment.

With the team unofficially disbanded for winter, and the bar almost always shut, Mizuki was almost starved for things to do, finding himself cleaning of all things, sorting out the attic and carrying armfuls of crap down to the bins in the alleyway that led to his apartment.

All kinds of things he'd forgotten about were in there, old pictures from the orphanage, school books and novels he had no memory of reading, clothes from years passed with 'property of Midorijima children's home' stamped in them. Most went straight in the bin, one pile of stuff he was keeping remained but he would probably never look at again, like the photograph albums and a couple of things he'd made as an institutionalized child.

Another pile he deemed 'useful' and had stuff like a sleeping bag, a selection of kitchenware he didn't remember buying, and a fold out camping chair he also had no memory of. These were things he probably would never use, but might be of use to somebody else, the sleeping bag for example, made his mind turn to Sly for the first time in days, thinking it seemed like exactly what he needed. But the problem was, he had no way of getting it to him, other than carrying it around the streets in the hope he saw him, which left another problem, he had an issue with charity, that was obvious when he tried to repay Mizuki for breakfast with sex. Just the thought made him cringe, something inside him objecting deeply to the way he sought to repay kindness, using his own body as a means of thanks when just a smile would do.

For now all he could do was put the small pile in is apartment, using the corner opposite his desk as storage space and deciding to ask his team if they wanted any of it, and if not to give it to a charity shop when it got warmer again.

It was hot in his apartment now, too hot, he gasped for breath as the sweat on his skin trickled down his back unpleasantly, soaking the waistband of his shorts as he slowed his jog to a walk and finally turned the treadmill off altogether. There was no way he could work out in this heat without passing out, grabbing a towel to dry his face and sweaty hair and walking out of his small gym to turn the thermostat down a good few degrees so he wouldn't sweat to death. He headed straight for it, luckily it was just outside the gym door so he didn't have to stop his workout for long, twisting it down and hoping it would cool quickly, he didn't want his muscles to relax or he might strain himself. His arm was cramping uncomfortably at his side and his throat was dry, stretching out the sore limb as he walked into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, cracking it open and taking a deep drink, sighing in relief because God that was-

"Holy shit!" The bottle fell to the ground and icy water covered his feet and legs, which admittedly wasn't too bad, but the minor heart attack he swore he'd just had was, intruder regarding him with a raised eyebrow as if he hadn't broken in. He was choking on his own spit, he was sure of that, breaking into a rather unattractive coughing fit as his lungs tried to murder him, finally managing a glare, throwing his sweat-soaked towel at his uninvited guest. "Are you trying to kill me?!"

He easily dodged the towel, grimacing as it landed damply on the floor beside him, but shaking his head and turning back to the bartender whose home he'd intruded upon. "You'd know if I was doing that," Sly remarked calmly, acting as if he was meant to be there, sat on his sofa and smoking a cigarette from the packet he'd left on the coffee table. "Nah, everywhere is shut so I was gunna steal your food instead, thought you'd be at work."

"We… We're shut for winter," he explained, too alarmed and confused to be able to say anything more intelligent, like 'how the fuck did you get in?' or, 'you could have just fucking knocked!'

"Ah. Well I came for food, but I didn't expect a show too," his grin turned almost dirty and Mizuki looked down at himself in realisation, wearing nothing but his gym shorts and trainers, sweat trickling down his torso. All in all it was quite the visual, and Sly seemed to be fully enjoying it, yellow eyes following the trail of a sweat drop down his navel, tilting his head to the side appreciatively.

"A criminal and a pervert," Mizuki remarked, but he made no attempt to cover himself up, he didn't really see the point, he'd already informed Sly that he was off limits, and he was very aware he could easily fight him off, were it to somehow come to that. "Aren't I the lucky one?"

"You sure are," he beamed, smile wide and eyes finally off his torso, trying to pretend his cheeks weren't pink with the focused attention he'd been giving him, specifically his chest. "So, how about that food?"

"Go grab whatever," he really didn't care, he was planning on living on takeaway, ramen and anything microwavable over the winter break, so anything Sly took he could easily replace.

It wasn't until Sly returned from the kitchen, after the alarming sound of all his cupboards opening and closing at least four times and the horrible jangling of the fridge door slamming, that he remembered the sleeping bag.

"Oh, I just remembered," he remarked, finding it in its blue bag and picking it up so Sly could see. "I found this in the attic and thought you might want it."

"What is it?" He asked, regarding the nondescript sack with curiosity rather than annoyance, though Mizuki knew that would appear the moment he realised he was being offered something else for free.

"Sleeping bag, I'm not going to use it so I figured I'd give it to you," he shrugged, he knew anybody else would understand his reasoning, maybe ask if he was sure, then having gained reassurance that it was in fact, fine, would take it graciously, but this was Sly.

"Why?" The suspicion in his voice was obvious, jaw suddenly set hard as he regarded the sleeping bag Mizuki was proffering, feeling more like a moron the longer he just held it there and eventually lowering it. He'd known Sly wouldn't exactly like it, but his straight up caution was almost too much.

"Call it a Christmas present," he shrugged, because if that made him feel better about it then why not? All he knew was that he wanted Sly to have it, he'd get a damn lot of use out of it, and with the plummeting temperatures it meant he might live through winter with all his toes intact.

"I don't do Christmas," his voice was steely and firm, yellow eyes narrow and glaring at him as if disgusted he'd even try and offer him charity like this, so blatantly. Maybe he was still thinking of ulterior motives and evil plots to somehow kill him with kindness, constantly calculating risk and danger levels in his mind so he could never just accept a nice gesture.

"Me neither," Mizuki responded quickly, eyes locking and waiting to see who would cave first, and of course it was Sly, because he did need something new to sleep under, that was why he'd tried to steal a blanket the last time he'd seen the bartender. He almost wondered if his story of finding it in the attic was true, he wouldn't put it past him to go out and buy it deliberately intending to give it to him, he was just a nice guy like that.

"Fine, shouldn't I give you a Christmas present too then?" He asked eyebrow raised as if expecting Mizuki to actually consider it, not surprised as his expression softened into an almost exasperated grin, biting his bottom lip in frustration.

"Not the kind of present you're thinking of," he responded, fully expecting the pout his words received, wondering how it was that somebody as seemingly hard as Sly could pull an expression so sweet.

"You're no fun." He sulked, sliding down to sit on the sofa and not reacting as Mizuki scoffed quietly, because he was fun, he just wasn't the kind of fun that enjoyed receiving sexual favours from sixteen year olds, no matter how good they reported being. "At least let me do something to show my gratitude."

Gratitude was not the word he thought of when he saw Sly accept his gifts, it was more like begrudging acceptance and no small amount of reluctance, so he knew immediately this was a ploy to guilt trip him into accepting his… gratitude.

"Nope," he answered easily, retrieving his towel and using it to sponge the back of his neck dry, wiping it through his hair and ruffling it with his fingers.

"Come on, we don't have to fuck, I could just suck you off?" His yellow eyes followed him as he pulled on a red hoodie, zipping it up halfway and growing alarmingly aware of the attention Sly had focused on his nipples, flushing pink even as he responded firmly.

"Not going to happen."

"Hand job?"

"No?"

"Foot job?"

"Sly," he turned to him warningly, although that last suggestion had at least made him smile purely with its ridiculousness, because surely such a thing wouldn't work, or, he almost hoped it wouldn't. Shaking his head to wipe out some rather worrying images that made him cringe, because feet were not his thing.

"Kiss under the mistletoe?" He finished, but the almost unpleasant leer in his voice had gone and he finally sounded almost genuine, drawing an almost soft look from the bartender, although his mouth was still set in a frown.

"I don't have mistletoe," he reasoned, because why would he? He'd never really celebrated Christmas since he'd left the orphanage, except getting drunk and eating especially good food, so why would he have something like that?"

Sly considered this a minute, stuffing the sleeping bag into his gym bag and zipping it up before standing, "well I don't need the mistletoe."

Mizuki supposed he should be flattered, here he was, with a sixteen year old boy desperate to have sex with him, just to kiss him by the sound of it, but it just rubbed him up the wrong way. As attractive as Sly might be, and he could well be with a good wash, a month of decent meals and some clean clothes, he was sixteen, and something about his attitude just made him feel uncomfortable. He'd let himself be kissed by him once, but he wasn't going to let it happen again, this crush he seemed to have, or whatever it was, had to die, he wouldn't encourage it.

"You could just say thank you," he sighed, because it was almost tiring bantering with Sly like this, as much as he enjoyed it, especially so today since he'd been alone for so long.

Sly rolled his eyes, heading towards the door which Mizuki didn't need to unlock, his guest had already picked the lock to get in after all, holding it open for him. He made sure to leave some space between them, he wouldn't be surprised if the other just jumped him when they were in such close quarters. "Fine, thank you," his tone was sincere and Mizuki smiled, because that was more like it, inclining his head and managing a smile that was almost warm, it did funny things to his stomach he refused to acknowledge.

Relieved he was going to leave without groping or otherwise attempting to seduce him in any way, Mizuki let his guard down, jumping as history repeated itself, and Sly's lips met his once more. But it was the hand on his chest that made him jerk back, whacking his head off the door as Sly just laughed, fingers playing across the firm muscle and smiling quite smugly.

"Mm, even better than it looks," he almost purred, and the way he bit his bottom lip and smiled was so distracting that he was leaving before Mizuki could even reply, offering a flirty wave on his way down the stairs.

"S-Stop molesting me!" He yelled after him, only hearing laughter in his wake and a plume of smoke coming up to fill his nostrils as he closed the door behind him, frowning because fuck, Sly was going to be a lot of trouble wasn't he?