A cold waft of air washed over them all.

Fei sprang back, and Mikhail shook his head as if awakening out of a trance.

"Hello Professor Asami!"

The door closed again behind the newcomer, a strikingly handsome tall Japanese man in his early thirties, wearing rather formal dress for a student's pub.

"Hi Akihito", he greeted the bartender, who suddenly seemed a bit nervous. Obviously he knew this impressive person, who looked more like a politician or even a high class gangster than a typical, slightly dowdy university professor. Since the scruffy bartender kid appeared to have sprung from some hippie commune, they formed a very unlikely pair indeed.

The three Russians weren't taking any notice of the encounter at the bar, however. They were all staring at their Chinese classmate. Fei Long had shrunk back into the depth of the pub, wide eyed and blanching, as if he was seeing a ghost. His companion, Yoh, reacted too; but he remained at the bar, stony faced and tense, as if preparing to fight at moment's notice.

The young Japanese Professor gave a noncommittal nod towards the rest of the pub and strode to the bar, coolly perching onto the bar stool next to Yoh, the one which must have been Fei Long's before.

"Don't you have some bourbon for me, Aki?" he said playfully. The bartender startled into action like a flustered bunny. The newcomer's forceful personality seemed just as out of place as his three piece suit and his immaculately gelled hair.

"Asami!"

At that tone of voice a hush fell over the general hub-hub of the bar - that kind of tone spelled trouble. Most patrons turned to see who had spoken.

"Asami."

Out of his dark corner, Asami's gorgeous fellow Asian was beginning to move back to the counter, slowly, with the coiled tension of a panther. If he had seemed wired up before (at Mikhail's presumptions), that was nothing against the state he was in now. Oozing danger and pheromones he approached the cool Japanese, who had spun around at the sound of this voice, but otherwise reacted only with a slight narrowing of his eyes.

In a split second chaos broke out, as Fei Long hurled himself at Asami. Immediately Yoh sprang to Fei's help, but was it his agitation? he, too, had seemed shocked after all…he wavered only for the tiniest instant, and was shoved against Fei, almost dislodging his companion. And that instant was enough for Asami to gain leverage and land a stunning blow to the Chinese' head. Fei Long cried out in anger and pain. With an anguished exclamation Yoh parried Asami's attack. Both fell against the bar, in apparent deadlock. As if in slow motion, the bartender punched a number in the phone. Simultaneously, Mikhail dived over to his classmate, who had doubled over, gasping.

He came just in time to see Fei clutch his thigh (not his face, where Asami had hit him), cross his eyes, and begin sliding to the floor, lolling against the bar.

Mikhail caught hold of him and steadied him. Fei moaned and gave a shuddering twitch, then he became very still. Reflexively Mikhail held a hand in front of his classmate's nose and mouth - thank god, he could feel warm air moving - the Chinese was breathing.

Asami and Yoh had stopped fighting and everyone was crowding around the pair of them now. Mikhail felt as if in a dream.

Fei was completely limp in his arms, dark hair fragrantly brushing against his heated face, lithe body hot and pliant against his own tense one. He was also unexpectedly heavy for his slender frame. Mikhail tightened his hold with his right arm, panting a little, and supported Fei's silky nape with his left hand, easing the Chinese' lolling head onto his left shoulder, once again feeling his hot breathe caress his ear. Even if this posture was extremely strenuous, Mikhail felt he could stay like that for ever. How long it actually did last, swaying together, Fei locked tightly into his embrace, Mikhail could not have said later. An authoritative baritone pierced his haze - "Aki, a blanket", there was some rustling, "you two there, your jackets, and give us a hand", and more rustling. Something was being thrown onto the ground, and then strong hands were gently but firmly prying Fei Long from him. Mikhail fell back against the bar. Dazed, he watched his friends help the commanding Japanese professor and also Fei's companion, Yoh, lower the unconscious Chinese onto the ground. They settled Fei's unresisting body on the makeshift bedding, his friend's jackets forming a cushion for Fei's head.

The mysterious Asami had given up all pretence of coolth, dropping down on his knees beside the still form regardless of his elegant dress pants and the dirt on the pub floor, frantically feeling for Fei's jugular pulse. He raised his head, gaze locking with that of the bartender, who nodded slightly. "Ambulance is called, Asami-Sensei," he mouthed.

Mikhail knelt on the other side of Fei's head. Was he alive? He was so still. Gingerly, hands trembling slightly, Mikhail pushed up his eyelids a little. The young Asian's eyes were unfocussed, lolling up in their sockets.

"Breathing, yes," the Japanese was muttering, "pulse…seems stable…what the heck…", he looked up hectically, "help me turn him on his side!"

Together, they grabbed Fei's left arm and leg and pulled him over, overstretching his chin and stabilizing the position by shoving his left hand under his cheek, as Mikhail remembered from first aid. Mikhail continued checking on Fei's breathing, Asami on his pulse, and then there was nothing more they could do for the moment.

Only then, gradually, did Mikhail become aware of their surroundings again. Surrounded by gaping patrons, Alexej and Pjotr were hovering uncertainly. Aki was looking at Asami, as if waiting for a cue. Yoh was staring at Fei with an indefinable expression. Over the still form of the fallen Chinese, Mikhail raised his head, and for the first time the hot headed Russian and the immaculate, superior Japanese acknowledged each other.

"What the hell did you do to him!?" Mikhail choked out, barely recognizing his own voice.

Asami shrugged, but didn't try to hide his concern. "Nothing much! When he came attacking me I just put up a defensive stance. My hand came into contact with his forehead, but look for yourself! There isn't even any mark there."

Fei's lovely face indeed looked quite peaceful and unblemished, as if he had simply fallen asleep, his figure innocently flung into a relaxed sprawl, luscious hair spread out all over his dishevelled jacket. His clothes had ridden up a bit, revealing a strip of slender, surprisingly muscled waist, the skin glowing in a dusky golden tan. The shocked lull in the bar had not let up, everyone still crowding in, craning their necks to get a better look at the fallen angel.

Yoh bent over Fei and imploringly addressed him in Chinese, even shaking and pinching him a bit, but Liu Fei Long was not to be roused.

(to be continued)