And that thing was, at that precise moment in time, lying on his couch, wounded from a fight he had not started. That he hadn't even been involved in, for once. He had taken the object of his desire away from the fight, bandaged him, and left him there on the couch to recover. He sat on the bed, easily the largest item in a relatively small studio apartment, his fingers splayed over the thick strings of a bass guitar, eyes determinedly cast down. e sat on the bed, HrH Not letting the slim backside in his peripheral vision overtake his mind with a sick fantasy of things that had happened over four years ago. A flushed face, cursing his name even as he cried for more and more and more. Gripped his back, dug short nails into his skin. In reality, the object of his affections was on his side, the back of a too tight black shirt riding up to expose the tiniest sliver of pale skin. He had set him that way not for the view of his ass, but because of his mangled leg, now bandaged and moved to rest on top of the other, he wasn't sure if all the bones were in the place, or in the amount of pieces, they were supposed to be. And he didn't want Kyo falling off the couch.

Kusanagi Kyo, the man what wanted him killed in the worst ways possible.

Who he wanted in the worst ways possible.

Who would likely make an attempt on his life as soon as he woke up, whether wounded or not, which he most certainly was. It would mean he would lose, and Iori wouldn't even have to fight back. There was a solid chance he wouldn't even make it across the room to the bed where Iori sat. Not with that leg of his. Mindlessly, not really thinking about it, he plucked out a melody on his bass, an old English band's song, post punk, where the bass carried the melody. He liked those old songs. He was missing band practice for a kid who hated him, wanted him dead, wouldn't even think that, perhaps, Iori had saved his life. Wouldn't matter what he'd done to help, saved him, wanted him to live though Kyo wanted him dead. He couldn't hold it against Kyo, after all, they had both been told the same thing, that the other was going to kill them, they had to get to it first, they were evil, they were power hungry, they didn't understand the power, they were a demon. It didn't matter who had been given which story, it boiled down to the same thing.

Kill one another.

Of course, Iori had given up on the killing when he gave up on the people that raised him. Being inordinately attracted to the person he had been told to kill was almost always a bad idea, and that was the boat Iori had been thrown into. Against his will. Quite against his will, life would be a whole lot easier if he could just be attracted to a nice, calm, girl, he already stood out enough, what with being a six foot tall readhead in the middle of Japan.

When he had placed Kyo so carefully on the couch, he hadn't been thinking about the long run, specifically, about Dickface the cat's fondness for leaping from the kitchen island counter above to his favorite place on the couch. Right where Kyo's mangled leg was. He didn't consider this until an angry yell broke his concentration on his bass, and launched himself towards the couch, catching Kyo before the wounded man hit the ground and incurring the cat's wrath clawed on his shoulders.

"Ow, ow, fuck, Dickface, off. Now. Ow." He leaned Kyo against the couch and peeled the cat off his broad shoulder, putting him in his favored place on the couch, and saw the blood pooling under his grey t-shirt. At least it didn't hurt too badly.

What hurt more was the glare he was receiving from the man he had saved.

"Yagami." Kyo growled Iori's family name like it was some sort of curse.

"G'morning." Retreated back into his easygoing, insulting, cruel personality he used around other human beings.

"The fuck're you doing here?"

"Well, it is my apartment."

"Y-your… What??" Kyo sputtered, his brown eyes going wide. "What am I doing in your apartment?!"

"Well, I carried you here." It was really more complicated than that, but Kyo's angry face was endearing. Iori couldn't much hide his smirk.

"Fuck did you do that for?"

"You were hurt, unconscious in the middle of the street, and I didn't really want to see you get run over by a truck or something."

"So call a goddamned ambulance, don't take me home with you. S'Not like I'm some kinda' animal or something."

"Could've done that, but the police report wouldn't have been pretty. Tranny Ash started a fight, cops don't like that much, and the lovely ladyman was gone, so blame would've been on you n' me."

"You?"

"Well, someone had to chase Ash off before it killed you."

"Since when did you care so much about my well being?"

"I'd say about since we fucked. I mean, that does kinda' do something with how one feels about someone."

Kyo glared, and tried to push himself up. He got to a standing point, took one step, and as soon as he got onto his broken (it was definitely broken) leg, he fell again. And again, Iori caught him, and carried him in both arms, princess style, dropped him unceremoniously on the couch, kicking Dickface the cat to make him move first. Dickface wasn't too happy about it, and glared petulantly at Iori before leaping onto the bed and preening angrily. If that was even possible.

"You're not walking anywhere, Kyo. Not for now, at least." Harsh reality, whether Kusanagi Kyo liked it or not.

He didn't like it. He sulked on the couch, crossed his arms, refused to look at Iori, didn't even acknowledge the fact that Iori had saved his life.

"Take me home."

"And risk them seeing me? Or, risk them seeing me with you? They still don't know we fucked, do they?"

"Why would I tell them something like that? They'd execute me."

"Yes, they would."

"And why do you care, once again."

"Like I said, I generally care about people I've had sex with."

Kyo shifted uncomfortably. Obviously, he didn't want to be reminded of their one night stand. The flash of expressions and shift of his hips, Iori didn't much know if it was a pleasant recollection or not.