Katsu hated it when Sano talked about Kenshin. He was never really quite sure why – after all, Katsu held no grudge against the man. It wasn't that Kenshin's appearance bothered him, though at barely over five foot and with a head of copper hair he refused to cut, he man did look a bit odd. It wasn't his job, for although Katsu often took on stories about police corruption, he'd never objected to the occupations itself. It wasn't his manner, which, though courteous, was also formal and slightly antiquiatated. It was just, Katsu concluded, the way Sano spoke about his small friend. There was something worshipful in his tone, and admiration that went so far beyond the norm it was almost embarrassing.

And Katsu hated it.

Someone might make the point that Katsu focused (or obsessed) about the issue far too much to actually hate it. These were the people who did no t know Katsu, or the little black Book Of Things I Hate, Why, And What I Did About Them, which he read regularly, on the basis that laughing was good for you.

Sano's slavish adoration of a certain tiny redhead appeared several times on that list. It was going on there again, Katsu grumbled to himself, just as soon as he dragged a certain great big drunken idiot home. Or maybe afterward, the next morning (thank god that today was Friday), after he'd sobered up and gotten rid of the hangover he was sure to have.

"Hey, Katshu, dideye . . .did'I eveh . . . evehr tshell y' 'bout wha' Ke'shin did t'dy?"

Katsu sighed, and adjusted Sano so that he wasn't in danger of falling off Katsu and cracking his skull open on the street.

"Yes, Sano." Only a dozen times. "He busted up a meeting between five high-ups in the drug business. Now there are five more crooks behind bars, a couple million yen in police custody, and fifty less pounds of cocaine on the streets. And his did it all without firing a single bullet. I know."

"Reallschly?" Sano looked surprised at this information, but then again, he was drunk enough to be surprised if someone had informed him that his name was Sanosuke. "Heh. Man, thatch Ke'shin really ish teh greatisht, isnh'nt he?"

Katsu sighed, and was spared the trouble of replying, because Sano passed out right at that moment. Of course, a side effect of that was that Sano was now entirely dead weight, and Katsu could barely carry him. And it wasn't like he could call a cab, either, Katsu remembered bitterly, because someone had spent all the cab money on more beer.

He was 90% sure that it hadn't been him, either.

"Might you require assistance?"

Bitch about the devil, and so shall he appear to you in the form of the one person you don't want to talk to. And lo, beware, for he shall make that person extremely useful and (one would almost say) necessary to you. And hearken well, for at this time you may only grit your teeth and say –

"That would be nice, yes."

Kenshin slipped around Katsu to pick up half of Sano, and Katsu briefly wondered how such a small man could be so strong. It was probably a cop thing. They walked in silence for awhile, until Kenshin spoke.

"I heard Sano telling you stories, that I did."

Katsu chuckled, somewhat ruefully. "Stories? So they aren't actually what really happened?"

"Yes . . . and no. Sano has a very interesting way of recounting facts, that he does."

"Tell me something I don't know, will you?"

"Well . . . for one, Saitou Hajime was also involved in today's incidents, and I believe he fired a few shots, that he did."

"Hah! Should've known . . . Sano's so obsessed with pretending he hates that bastard, he doesn't realize how it makes him seem even more eager to jump into his pants."

A wry chuckle made its way to Katsu's ears. "Saitou is much the same, that he is."

Sano probably would have killed Katsu for snickering like he was, if only he'd be concious. "I wonder if they're the only two in Tokyo who don't see it."

A full-blown guffaw escaped from the (likely off-duty) cop this time, and Katsu felt the warm glow that came from being halfway drunk and talking to someone who knew exactly what you meant. "That is quite likely, it is."

The conversation went off from there, a rambling discussion about nothing important, with interruptions to allow for arguing about the exact way to Sano's apartment. It lasted all the way to the complex, and even after. Neither of them really paid attention to where they were going after Sano had been rolled into his bed, though, and it was quite a surprise to Katsu when he realized they were standing outside his door, talking, at two in the morning. Well, he thought, it's pretty obvious what to do from here. He turned back to Kenshin, who was looking at him questioningly.

"Wanna come in?"

Kenshin was not at all adverse to that idea, and followed Katsu inside, where both of them learned a very important thing:

When it's three in the morning, when copious amounts of alcohol have been worked into the rules, and when playing with a pornographic deck of cards, Go Fish was literally the best damn game in the entire world.

When Katsu woke up, it was slowly, with that foggy pain/confusion mix he always got the morning after drinking. His brain asked the usual questions, like "Where am I?" and "How much are they paying for that jackhammer inside my skull?" and "Where the fuck is my beluga?" His head replied "Fuck off," as was usual, but today his nose piped in with some new information.

Food.

While the very smell was enough for his hangover to start pounding in violent protest, there was a small part of his mind that was functioning normally enough to wonder who on earth would be cooking food at this ungodly hour (it was ten in the morning). That same part was also wondering if this person could be persuaded to put him out of his misery. Or at least give him the means to commit suicide.

The food smell was coming from the kitchen, so after Katsu had rolled out of bed and assured himself that he was adequately dressed, he headed there. He wasn't sure what he expected to find, but he was pretty sure that a short redhead scrambling eggs would not have been his first guess. For one, he'd always thought of Kenshin as more of a pancake person.

Well, Katsu thought, at least he isn't wearing an apron. I don't think I could deal with that. Shrugging, he shambled into the kitchen and sat down at the small table, accompanied by a great moaning and grumbling and swearing and all those other things people do when they wake up cuddling a hangover.

Oh. There was his damn beluga.

Katsu shifted, pulled the battered old stuffed toy off of the chair, and placed it on the table. Where he began a staring contest with it. Or whatever.

"G'morning," came the greeting from the stove that was more of a yawn than an actual spoken word, and Katsu was reminded that those things usually came in twos.

"Mornin," he grunted, wincing as the battered whale was pushed aside, and a plate of eggs was set in front of him. "No 'fense, man, I'm sure yer a great cook an' all, but I got a fucking hang—"

Katsu was cut off when a glass of some suspicious liquid was placed in front of him.

"Drink this."

Katsu sniffed it cautiously. It didn't smell like anything, but that could be because his nose didn't have the right sensors to smell something that bad.

"Wha' izzit?"

"Hangover remedy."

"Oh." Katsu glared at the glass for a bit and then, figuring it had probably been cowed into submission, picked it up and drank the liquid down. It tasted faintly like peppers and hot sauce, with a little bit of something almost like cinnamon. Pretty good, actually. He looked up into Kenshin's shocked stare.

"You know what this needs?" He asked, then proceeded to answer his own question. "Wasabi."

Kenshin's mouth closed with a click. "It . . . has wasabi in it, that it does," he said in a faint voice. "Quite . . . quite a lot of wasabi."

"Huh." Katsu stared down into the bottom of the glass. "It needs more wasabi, then."

"A-ah."

Well, no matter how it tasted, it worked pretty good – that plate of eggs was looking better by the second. Soon it was good enough to eat, which Katsu promptly did. Neither of them seemed to be in the mood to talk, so their breakfast was for the most part silent, until Katsu realized something.

"Hey . . . shouldn't you be at work, or something? I mean, don't they make you work Saturdays? Sano bitches about that all the time . . ." He trailed off as Kenshin slowly shook his head.

"They gave me the day off, that they did."

"Ah."

Again, they were silent for a long while, but this time, when the silence was finally broken, Kenshin did it.

"So . . . Sano speaks of me then? Often?"

"Speaks of you?" Katsu snorted, scraping the last bits of egg from his plate. "Every other fucking word out of his mouth is "Kenshin this" and "Kenshin that" and "Kenshin Kenshin Kenshin." No offense man, I don't have anything against you, but it gets pretty damn annoying, if you know what I mean."

"Hmm." For a moment, it looked as if Kenshin was going to let the silence start again, but then he started talking. "Sano . . . he also speaks of you, that he does. Quite often."

"He does?" Katsu sat back in his chair and chewed that over. "Talks 'bout me . . . no shit."

"He does," Kenshin insisted. "Often. Of your bravery in clashing with the very powerful. Of your diligence in pursuing a story. Of your determination to expose wrongdoing. Of you." There was an odd note in Kenshin's voice, but Katsu felt like he could almost place it. "Sano speaks of you, quite often. His admiration for you is . . . unmistakable."

Ah. There it was. Katsu's lips quirked into a crooked smile.

"And you don't like it, do you?" They held gazes for a brief moment, green against purple, before Kenshin dropped his and shook his head ruefully.

"Not at all, I say."

The redhead looked up when Katsu chuckled, and then he started too. It was a special kind of laughter, more out of recognition of the irony than any real humor. Still, it did what laughter does, and by the time they stopped, both men were gasping for breath.

"I wonder . . ." Katsu mused, once they had calmed down. "I wonder why it irritates us both so mu—"

He didn't finish, possibly because Kenshin had leaned over the small table and pressed his warm lips against Katsu's. After a moment, Katsu closed his eyes and kissed back. It wasn't a particularly passionate or intimate kiss, but it did get the point across. When they drew apart, some time later, Katsu chuckled and Kenshin looked at him oddly.

"What?" the smaller man asked, and Katsu smiled in return.

"You taste like hangover remedy," he said, before pulling Kenshin back into another kiss.

And that, boys and girls, is why you never assume anything. Especially not in a fandom where four different people have names begining in the letter "K." For everyone who clicked on this story, thinking it was going to be Kenshin/Kaoru: YOU CANNOT BEGIN TO IMAGINE HOW HARD I AM LAUGHING AT YOU. For all those of you who made it to the end, I applaud you. For all those of you who are laughing with me -- the world is a better place because people like you exist.

For all those who are not laughing, and are probably on their way to flame this thing . . . .

Go ahead, make my day. : D