"Chaos in the midst of chaos isn't funny, but chaos in the midst of order is." - Steve Martin

Jasmine: (Bursts into tears) …I…feel…like so much shit… (SOSOSOSOSOSO SORRY!) Goddess, I'm such an idiot.ThisJasminedoesn't own anything and here's the next chapter…

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The Difference Between Love And Loathing - Chapter Nine: Forgotten

(With Saito and Misao STILL on the couch, March 18, 2005...10:34 p.m.)

Before either the wolf or the weasel realized it, fifteen, twenty, and twenty-five minutes had passed and neither had released the other from their so-called "hug". Misao still lay cuddled up in Saito's lap, arms firmly wrapped around him and face buried happily into his chest, not caring that only a few hours before she had practically hated the man's guts. And, she noted with (only a small bit, mind you) glee, the detective didn't really seem to mind her presence anymore, for he hadn't told her to get off in at least ten minutes, which was most definitely progress in Misao's book.

Wait, progress? Progress towards what, exactly? she thought, eyebrows knitting together with confusion. Oh crap! This is Tae's doing, I'm sure of it! Now I'm thinking all of these creepy, disturbing thoughts because of her stupid prodding!

With a muffled swear, the weasel proceeded to push herself from the wolf's (surprisingly) warm, iron-like grasp and shakily stood up, not able to meet his amber stare. She knew that her face was probably as red as a tomato and she really didn't want to be teased about it at the moment. Curse the stupid man! This had to be his fault somehow!

"Leaving so soon?" And he had been enjoying her embrace, too. …Actually, it was probably a good thing that she broke away. For the sake of his sanity, at any rate.

"…U-umm," she stuttered uncertainly, shuffled her feet, cleared her throat, and then started again. "I'm going to go get my pajamas on, o-okay? You should p-probably do the same." The thought of seeing the detective in his nightwear brought an evil smile to her lips as she turned to leave the room without waiting for a reply. While walking up the stairs, she silently went over everything that had happened since the day had begun. Aoshi-sama…was gone. That was true. But she could get him back somehow, couldn't she?

The big question was, however: did she even want him back?

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Saito blinked at Misao's sudden departure, a bit disappointed despite himself. He hadn't really realized how much time had passed while they were sitting there. Alone. On the couch. Together.

"Dammit," he growled under his breath and shakily reached a hand up to bring it back through his hair. "I'm a stupid, idiotic ahou…" He had told himself that he wouldn't become attached to the weasel, wouldn't allow her to get too close, but she had! Despite all of his purposely-malicious comments and unkind demeanor, she had somehow weaseled her way in while he wasn't looking!

And in only two days, to boot. Within a mere forty-eight hours the stupid girl had managed to break down every barrier he had ever constructed as if they were weak displays of Popsicle-sticks and glue instead of sturdy walls made of brick and cement. No one else had ever been able to achieve what she had done in such a short amount of time, no one…not even Kondo.

With a deep, almost incredulous sigh at his realization, the detective pushed himself from the cozy confines of the couch, wearily stretched his arms above his head, and went off to locate his suitcase full of clothing.

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Misao surreptitiously held up an old, worn, pink-patterned blanket and scoffed silently to herself, unable to believe that she had ever liked such a thing. How long ago had it even been used? It smelled musty and gross and didn't look much better, either: the large magenta butterflies dotting its surface appeared too bright and happy compared to the nasty, dull shade of puke-green and faded orange stripes that marred its background like a nauseating, open wound. Certainly there was another blanket for the baka wolf somewhere in her accursed house! She just had to look a bit harder…

Deftly flinging the offending coverlet to the side, the weasel proceeded to attack the contents of her bright purple-painted room with a vengeance bordering on maniacal. A tattered towel here, a pair of ripped pants there, but no blanket!

"Dammit!" Misao stood back, placed her hands firmly on her pajama-clad hips, and eyed the depths of her closet angrily. Nothing in there, either! Well, it looked as though Saito was going to have to use the nightmare-inducing blanket after all. Not that she cared, of course. In fact, why was she even trying to help the annoying bastard? Hah! Now he'd have to suffer through a night of –

"Something bugging you, weasel?"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Misao froze, resolutely clenched her fists, and stiffly turned around, not wanting to speak with the detective just yet as the early embarrassment was still a fresh injury. The sight that met her, however, caused her blue-green eyes to open wide with astonishment and all thoughts of his mockery to flee instantly from her mind like a flock of frightened pigeons from a rabid attack dog.

It seemed that the wolf's nightwear was rather, well…not as embarrassing as the weasel would have hoped. Quite the contrary, as a matter of fact.

If she hadn't been so shocked, the ninja probably would have started drooling like a fanciful schoolgirl over the poster of a hot celebrity. Her astonished gaze went up and down his form again and again, openly ogling him in spite of the little voice in her head screaming at her to remember her Aoshi-sama. Normally, a guy wearing black muscle-shirt and black drawstring pants wouldn't affect her so, but on Saito…

The wolf smirked lazily at the dazed look on her face and quirked an eyebrow, pleased to find another way of annoying her. "Take a picture, itachi. It'll last longer."

The weasel's cheeks flared beet-red and she opened her mouth to retort. To her horror, only a strangled-sounding squeak came out. Desperately clearing her throat, she valiantly attempted to speak again and barely succeeded in forming coherent words. "Sh-shut up!" Oh, real smooth Misao…

Saito couldn't help but snicker as the itachi blushed even more and went back to –…what the hell was in her hands? He blinked owlishly at the alarmingly ghastly array of colors on – a blanket? Was that thing a blanket? – the cloth she held and sweat dropped slightly, idly wondering what it was for. He just hoped that it had absolutely, positively, nothing to do with him. "…Weasel, what's that?"

The ninja slowly followed his amber gaze and inwardly smirked at the disgust showing oh-so-clearly in his eyes. "Oh, this old thing?" She proudly held it up for him to see, displaying the horrid blanket in all of its magenta-pink-ish-butterflies-and-orange-y-stripes-with-a-puke-green-background-glory and silently reveled in his barely-discernable wince at its shear repulsiveness. "It's just your blanket for your – with any luck, short – stay here." Ha-HAH! Revenge is sweet, isn't it, Hajime?

He immediately deadpanned, point-blank refusing to believe her. Surely she wasn't serious. She just couldn't be. No halfway-decent person would ever attempt to give that monstrosity of mismatched fabric and color to another human being! Then again, Misao wasn't really what someone would call a "polite" person. When she wanted payback, she certainly went all-out to get it. Perhaps she'd be a worthy adversary, after all. It had been a very, very long time since the wolf had had someone to test his wit against and the weasel was certainly amusing. "There is no way, Makimachi, that I am going to use that. Hell would freeze over before I would even touch it." And he meant it, too. Saito Hajime, homicide detective of the third precinct, and... big pink butterflies…just do not mix. In any way, shape, or form.

"Well, it's the only blanket I have so you'll just have to deal with it!"

The wolf crossed his arms over his chest and glared irately down at her, gold eyes hardening with determination. "There must be another one in this huge house, weasel. What, do you never have guests over?"

"Not really," she retorted, ferociously twisting the eye-smarting material between her hands in frustration. "I live here all by myself, and when Tae does comes over, she just brings her own blanket. This," the weasel held up the monstrously hideous coverlet. "And the covers on my own bed are all that I have. Seriously. Now, take this stupid thing before I throw it at you. Unless you want to share my blankets, of course."

She had meant it as a joke, a way to piss him off, something to embarrass him.

"Fine."

And as one can probably tell, it didn't work. Or at least not in the way she had originally intended it to work.

Misao made a sort of strange, unidentifiable choking noise (rather like the sound a cat makes when one accidentally treads upon its tail multiple times mixed with screeching tires) and allowed the blanket-like thing to slide from her grasp, shock temporarily turning her limbs into mushy porridge. Her mouth gaped open and she gasped like a beached fish deprived of water, desperately trying to form words in which to deny his blunt acceptance of something that she really hadn't meant.

"Bu-but, I-I didn't…w-wait…"

Saito rolled his eyes and snickered to himself; he knew what was going through her head but couldn't miss this moment to tease her. "Get your mind out of the gutter, you stupid girl. Hn, didn't know you wanted to sleep with me that badly…" The smirk that graced his lips was smug and filled entirely with pure, undiluted, irritating male ego.

"Wh-what? GAH! You, y-you…hentai no baka!" She swiftly fisted a pillow on her bed and flung it as hard as she could at his face, determined to knock the stuffing out of him for saying such a disgusting thing. To her dismay, he easily plucked it out of the air and arrogantly placed it upon his own bed.

"Just give me your sheet or something, weasel. Idiot…"

Oh. So…so that's what he meant by sharing…whoopsie. "E-er, right. I knew that. H-here." Misao stalked over, furiously threw her covers aside, tugged out the sheet, and then handed it to him without daring to look at his face. In fact, the floor was quite interesting at the moment.

Her earlier blush returned with a vengeance; it seemed that the wolf had won once again. Curse him! No matter whatever she did to him, he always had the upper hand! One of these days…one of these days she'd get him back even if it killed her!

Meanwhile, the wolf had plopped down on the opposite bed and was gazing about the much-too-bright room with a skeptical eye, now absolutely certain of Misao's immaturity. Anime posters decorated the lavender-colored walls, the lamp on her bedside table was in the shape of a happy-looking hot-pink rabbit, and her closet appeared as if a bomb had gone off inside it. Clothes were pouring out even as the weasel desperately tried to shove them back in; finally, she just took a great armful, threw them inside, and rapidly slammed the door behind her. Saito sweat dropped at her victorious pose.

"There! Stupid closet," she grumbled under her breath and flopped gracelessly down upon her own bed with a sigh. With a joyful exclamation, the weasel pulled her favorite stuffed animal out from under her pillow and huggled it lovingly. "Wolfie!"

The detective shook his head. "Itachi, what is that?"

"Huh? What's what?"

"The furry thing in your arms, you imbecile."

She glared at him and squeezed the stuffed wolf tighter to her chest. "He's not a thing, you jerk! He's my Wolfie!"

"And what –…Makimachi, are those…weasels printed on your shorts?" Shorts? What shorts? The skimpy, teal-colored cloth wrapped around her slim waist barely went three inches down her thighs! And her shirt – a white tank top, obviously way too small for her – showed a large strip of her stomache. "Nice pajamas, itachi." Amusement was clear in his voice.

Misao reddened horribly, her glare intensifying to an almost frightening pitch. "Yeah, well, nice pajamas yourself, asshole!" And she wasn't lying, either. He did look – however she loathed admitting it – pretty hot. Very hot, actually. Nearly drool-worthy, with that tight muscle-shirt showing off each and every one of –

NO! Bad Misao, BAD! Remember your Aoshi-sama! It's Aoshi-sama you love! Stop fawning over another guy, you baka! Especially since it's the wolf you're doing it to!

"U-umm, ya' know what? Whatever. It's…it's late. Let's just go to sleep, okay?" And with that, the weasel abruptly flicked off her bedside light, crawled underneath her covers, and attempted to drift off, a task made extremely difficult because of the unnerving presence of a certain detective. It would most definitely take time to get used to him being around…

Saito stared vacantly up at the dark ceiling, noting indolently in the back of his mind the deep, even breathing of the weasel as a sign that she had already fallen asleep. She was lucky to be able to sleep easy without worries or fears.

He hadn't taken any of his sleeping pills, he realized with a small jolt. But surely he could go without them for just one night.

After all, one night couldn't hurt.

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Jasmine: …This…is another short chappie…(SAD)…I spent so much time on it, too…(Grumble grumble) Well, Lexi Teniro has some fanart for this chappie! (Big grin) Here's the linky for it: www . geocities . com / dramagrl137 / pajamapartypic . html. Just remove the spaces and be sure to visit our site, too! Wolf And Weasel, yup! Hee…'til next time, loyal reviewers, this is Jasmine Reinier…signing off!

"People only have hope…because they cannot see death stand behind them…"