"So take me home."

"Believe it or not, Kyo, I don't have much of a death wish."

"You haven't got a right to call me Kyo."

"I disagree." Iori was sitting on the floor in front of his small bed, scratching behind Dickface's ears to placate the stubborn animal. The cat hummed happily, unaware of the thick, throbbing silence between the two men.

"Its not your decision to make." Kyo grumbled. He was in a world of pain, his leg felt like it was in a thousand different pieces, his head pulsated too big for his skull, Kyo hated losing a fight, he hated the aftermath, and he hated that he was stuck in the home of his mortal enemy. But, unfortunately, Yagami was right. He wasn't going anywhere beaten like that. Yagai wasn't helping, either, sitting there with that fuck ugly cat and self satisfied smile. Kyo wasn't quite aware how Yagami managed in day to day life, outside of their familial grudge and fighting tournaments. He was too cold, stood out too much, and Kyo doubted there was any way Yagami could hold down a consistent job. He had heard something about a band, but he had never gone to look deeper into it, judging from the guitar, it didn't have enough strings, the band thing might be right.

"Yagami, your guitar doesn't have enough strings."

"Huh?" Iori reached over for the guitar, laid it across his lap and played a few notes.

"See? There's four. A guitar's supposed to have six, right?"

"This is… A bass, moron."

"Oh. Whatever." Kyo sulked, trying not to let on that he was listening to Iori play the instrument. He did it well, incredibly well, the music was deep and smooth, a quick melody Kyo was unfamiliar with. He wasn't going to lie, not to himself at least, Iori meant something to him. Whether it was the familiarity, the thing in his life to stay constant, or it was that old one night stand, four years ago, on impulse so much as it was something he had thought about for years. Something he still thought about, still dreamt about, whether he wanted to or not Kyo fixated on that.

He had been out with a friend for a few drinks, that turned into seven or so, and he had just noticed that his friend had left. With his ride. In a part of town he didn't know at all. Drunk. Within an hour of this realization, he began to figure they weren't coming back for him. So he bought another drink and weighted his options- taxi, trying to walk, hitching a ride, but he had no idea where he was, or the likelihood of any of these taking place.

A hand hit the bar on his side, he looked at it, then the other trapped him there where he sat. Hot breath hit his ear.

"Need a ride, baby?"

The voice was hot, sweet, deep and depravedly smooth. Kyo's first reaction was to arch against the unseen voice, but a moment's drunken thought he wanted to see his temptation.

Flame red hair covered one eye, the other was a deep golden red, broad shoulders and a perfect, slender waist. He was wearing a battered old black shirt, faded red plaid pants that hugged ideal legs, and a black denim jacket, patched and altered, old boots. Kyo looked him over, marveled that his mortal enemy could look so infinitely beautiful. He wanted to take that curve of his waist in both hands and draw the man close, kiss him for all he was worth, as much, if not more, than he wanted to rip the last breath and blood from his lungs. Watch him die, make love to him, the passion of the two was so close that in his inebriated state, it was the same thing.

"Not from you."

"Then who?" Obviously, Yagami Iori was much more sober than he was.

Yagami could be so annoying, crude, arrogant, self-assured. But he was right. "I-I don't know. Not you."

"You said that." Smooth, sick smile light his face.

Is he flirting with me? "Fuck you."

Yagami leaned close, his breath was once again against Kyo's ear, enticing and sweet, Kyo allowed his eyes to flutter closed and bask in the pleasure.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. What are you doing here anyways? Fucking stalk me or something?"

"Well, that too. But really, we played a show here. Didn't notice?"

"Um. No."

"Aw, and it was a good show, too." Yagami smirked, still against his ear, so close that in his drunkenness it was stifling as much as it turned him on. His vision was taken up by Yagami's body, calm and controlled and, perhaps, most importantly, sober. Kyo's eyes were drawn to his hips, the exaggerated curve of his waist, lower, dazed and reveling in the feel of his enemy's breath against his ear.