Copyright: Suikoden belongs to Konami

Authors Note: Okay, I owe an apology don't I? XD I have decent reason for not updating though, I swear. Summer classes started and I had anatomy and physiology, which basically means I got ass rapped with nearly two exams a week for almost two months. Anyways, that's over and I hope to resume updating regularly again, and hopefully, hopefully, finish this before fall starts. Haha. I just hope my already crappy writing skillz haven't degenerated further during the down time.

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They stood there in front of the stairs, Lazlo still grinning at the other's expense. Snowe just sighed, mentally exhausted from the night's happenings. He never did function well under stress; as anyone in Razril would happily attest to.

"Uh, I'll explain the color later. Come on. Grab the handle bar and I'll help you up."

"Can't you just ca—"

"I-I already told you, no," he said, trying to sound stern, but ultimately it came out as a weak whine.

He figured getting his way would be more trouble than it was worth, so Lazlo eventually complied, shakily grabbing the wood. He had to smother back a laugh when he noticed how the dark brown of his gloves contrasted with the pink.

Lazlo figured the night was still young, leaving him plenty of time for "fun." He'd be damned if he couldn't get into some interesting situations in Snowe's place. In reality, it was quite late, almost twelve in the evening. All Snowe wanted to do was toss him on the bed and go hide in the closet until morning. Shame that's not really an option, Snowe thought inwardly.

After readjusting Lazlo's arm over his shoulder, he started dragging the both of them up. Lazlo seemed to put in the most minimal amount of effort towards the endeavor, as if to spite Snowe for not carrying him. When they reached the top, he fumbled through his pocket for the key while Lazlo leaned against the wall for support.

"Oh…please..please..be there," Snowe prayed, between pants. Finally, his fingers brushed against familiar metal. "Whew, found it."

Lazlo simply watched his friend's mechanisms with interest: Snowe making acquaintances with drunks, Snowe picking off other people's plates, Snowe bitching out bar mistresses, Snowe owning his own home, and now Snowe stressing out over a damn key. It was all so plain and normal, but to him it was all brand new, and he hadn't even been here a full day yet. He couldn't wait to see every aspect of Snowe's life he had been missing out on all these years. Heh, when did I get so nosy? Oh well. Open the door already Snowe…

Indeed, Snowe just stood there, key in hand and with a blank expression. He was briefly mulling over how he'd left the house this morning. Did I leave anything out carelessly..? I think I cleaned up. I don't want him walking in with things out of place….Ugh..who cares Snowe!

"It's called a key. You see….oh..heh.. you grab it firmly but gently and guide it into the hole and then angle it—"

That's about when Snowe's brain shattered into pieces, toning out whatever horrors the sentence continued into, his eyes not on Lazlo's face, but instead directly on his hand movements. Unbelievably, they were mimicking his words. And that's when he blushed like he had never blushed before, only this time it was ten times as powerful, because there was absolutely no ambiguity about the underlying meaning of THAT little jewel of dialogue. The way he said it and the hands left no room for doubt.

Oh runes, this cannot be happening! I did not just hear Lazlo, of all people, use a key for sexual innuendo. It's Lazlo! Lazlo… I'll just pretend I didn't hear it. Right. Pretend that everything is normal.

Snowe didn't have the guts to call him out on it: plain and simple. Logic told him it wouldn't make a difference, only create an even more awkward situation that he didn't know how to handle. Frankly, the only brush with perversion he had was with the way those pirates and Lawrence talked about women, and of course that was never directed toward him. Snowe couldn't believe how uncomfortable this sort of thing could feel. He felt like a naive, insecure teenager.

"I-I know how to u-use the key, damnit! I was just thinking….…A-a-and now we are going in and you are going to s-shut up and go to bed, immediately. Do you understand me?!"

Snowe didn't really allow Lazlo the chance to hand out a smartass answer, because he had the front door wide open within seconds. For the second time that night, Lazlo got whiplashed and forced inside. Still holding onto Lazlo, he reached to the right side of the entrance, where he knew there was a chair by one of the windows.

"Here. Just sit down while I go light the lamps, okay?"

Lazlo nodded his head and did as he was told while watching Snowe quickly disappear into the darkness. The few practical neurons that were still firing off wondered if, perhaps, he'd taken things a little too far. Snowe had actually looked genuinely irritated this time. Lazlo kicked the thought aside pretty quickly. What was done was done, and as far as he was concerned, one way or another, that had gained him his threshold for the night. He felt almost satisfied. Unknown to Lazlo, his sense of peace was just the alcohol finally showing signs of wearing off.

Across the room, Snowe was also thinking silently. I guess I was a little harsh on him. Any normal person would have found that funny and laughed it off, right? That's just the way friends joke around..I think. That was probably all he was doing… and I yelled at him. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Snowe continued on with his streak of denial as he worked on the real task at hand. Lazlo watched as the fire rune flashed its symbol momentarily into the air before fading, leaving the kerosene lamp intact and expertly lit. Lazlo knew for a fact that that was illegal. You weren't supposed to use runes in such a domestic manner; otherwise, every other dumbass in the world would burn his house down. Not that Lazlo minded; it was just another one of Snowe's habits he found oh-so fascinating for some reason.

Several minutes later, Snowe had all four of them lit, and Lazlo could finally see Snowe's home in its entirety, minus some intricate details. All and all, the set-up was quite simple. They were in what seemed to be the bedroom, but it was completely open to the kitchen, so he wasn't sure if "bedroom" was the accurate assumption. On the right wall, he could see a large bed placed vertically against it, and directly across from the bed was a work desk positioned decisively on the opposite side. Past there he could barely make out the kitchen with only a glare of light reflecting off the stove's surface.

There were several paintings on the walls, rugs on the floor, and other minor pieces of furniture, but it was too dark to really make out the details, so Lazlo gave up on trying and focused his attention back on Snowe, who was currently by the bed pealing the covers away tidily. It looked like he had calmed down considerably. When he was done he walked back over to Lazlo.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you and overacting. I'm just tired is all. Haha.." Snowe nervously watched Lazlo's expression. He was met by a familiar grin. That was more than good enough for Snowe. "Anyway, you must be worn-out by now too. Let's get you to bed."

"I'm not really that tired yet," Lazlo stopped when Snowe's face arranged itself back into a frustrated grimace, "but I am dizzy, so I'll lie down."

Lazlo ended with a playful smirk. Keeping Snowe constantly on edge was entertaining, but he did feel like winding down for the night, at least a little. With that modest bit of reassurance, Snowe lifted him up and led him over to the bed where he had pealed the covers away just a few minutes prior. Lazlo let himself flop down and felt the wooziness dissipate.

Before he could get too comfortable, he was jolted alert by Snowe, or rather what Snowe was doing. He felt the straps on his shoes loosen and then come off entirely. Oh right, I forgot. People don't normally sleep with their shoes on. Lazlo normally did, being out on the road all the time. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had ever took his shoes off before bed, pealed the covers a back for him, or anything of the sort. Maybe no one ever had, and if they did, it was probably Snowe when they were kids. It felt nice.

"Can you lift your arms up for me, Lazlo? Your, uh armor plate thing is still on."

Lazlo almost giggled at Snowe's description, but it made sense. His choice of armor wasn't the norm. Even he had to admit the logic was idiotic. He'd probably be just as dead if someone stabbed him directly in the liver or stomach, but all he bothered protecting was his heart.

He obeyed, and Snowe gently took off his jacket and hung it neatly on the coat hanger next to the bed. The thin piece of metal came off next. Snowe gave it a good looking over and shook his head disapprovingly before neatly setting it aside as well. Next off came the gloves. Snowe paused when he detached the second one revealing the rune's mark. Curiously, he ran his fingers across it trying to feel for a difference in skin texture, but just like a normal rune, it caused none.

He caught himself prying and instantly lowered the hand back down. Lazlo was looking right at him, a mixture of emotions playing on his face.

"I'm sorry! I-I didn't meant too. I just—" Snowe apologized, bowing his head, knowing he had again unintentionally hit a sore spot.

"It's alright. I don't mind."

Snowe looked back up, relived, and then reached out to tuck Lazlo in. Once the covers were around him he walked to the lamps and stopped at the last and farthest one. It's probably a good idea to leave at least one on just in case Lazlo needs a glass of water or something.

Lazlo just watched quietly, still musing over getting tucked into bed. He couldn't help it; it was such a new sensation. To a normal person it would have meant nothing, but to a boy who grew up in the servant's quarters and then in a room all by himself it was a fairly new experience. He wondered if maybe Snowe had done this when they were kids, before that day with Vincent at the dinner table. Or maybe even his mother before her death. He couldn't remember, no matter how hard he wracked his brain for the answer.

Snowe finished with the lamps and walked back over. "Good night. If you need anything just tell me." With that said, he started walking back over toward the chair Lazlo sat on when they first came in.

"Wait. Where are you going to sleep?"

"Huh? Oh, the chair. Don't worry about me, It's comfortabl—"

"There's plenty of room on the bed Snowe. This ridiculous thing could fit three people if it had too."

Snowe went into a cold sweat. If Lazlo hadn't been acting so strange the better part of the night, this wouldn't even be an issue, but Snowe wasn't so sure he felt comfortable sleeping in the same bed as Lazlo after the whole key fiasco. He could talk himself into a pool of denial all he wanted, but the fact still remained: he knew deep down Lazlo's comments weren't a total "joke."

"T-thanks, but I don't want to disturb you. I'll be fi—."

It wasn't that he thought Lazlo do something ludicrous like try raping him or anything. Hell, the thought of Lazlo making a move on him was a pretty welcoming thought: not that he'd ever admit it. It was just, dealing with Lazlo when he wasn't, well, Lazlo was nerve-racking. Snowe was barely getting used to even being around the normal, sober side of Lazlo again after so many years apart.

"If you sleep over there, I'm not sleeping at all, so make your decision before I drag myself off of here."

Lazlo lifted himself back into a sitting position to show he wasn't backing down on his threat. Snowe realized he didn't have much of a choice in the matter, and Lazlo had been acting more normal since they arrived anyway. In the light of all eternity, it didn't matter, and goodness knows a nice bed to pass out on sounded nice.

"Alright, alright don't get up. I'm coming….Uh, one question though?"

He just had to get a response, if only to judge Lazlo's state of mind one final time.

"What?"

"You're not going to do anything weird to my, uhh, hair or anything, right?"

Lazlo just looked astonished by the fact that Snowe finally, really, truly called him out about his behavior. Well, it was as direct of a mentioning as he would probably ever get. For now, he was simply glad to have concrete proof that his efforts didn't go entirely unnoticed.

"I still can't even see straight. What do you think I'm going to do?"

"Good point."

With that, he made his way around to the other side and situated himself under the covers, ready to get some much needed, much deserved rest.

Endnotes: Again, sorry if it was rusty. Getting back into writing this was kind of hard, but I said I wouldn't pussy out, so I won't. Yes, drunkard Lazlo is finally going bye bye. I honestly wish he could stay wasted for the entire story, but, uh, that's wouldn't really work out very well. The key thing was pushing it as far as it would go without going wayyyy far out of character.

Next up: Lazlo's mommy issues? Hmm that could be fun.