His apartment was just as he had left it several hours ago, but this time Kai's hands were shaking noticeably from the pain in his ribs and face as he poured two glasses full of vodka.

His stained and wet trenchcoat was hanging over the shower bar in the bathroom. Since he wasn't expecting the Replicant to suddenly turncoat and kill him, Kai rolled up the sleeves of his off-white dress shirt and set his gun down on the coffee table. Hopefully this wouldn't bite him back in the ass, later.

Hurk had taken the offered glass and returned to his spot next to the window. The venetian blinds were drawn this time, however, so the light that did come through painted stripes of dark shadows across the android's unmarred face.

The alcohol burned worse than it usually did going down, and when Kai put the glass down he noticed that some blood was swirling around in the clear liquid.

The silence was heavy, but not uncomfortable.

"Do your hands always shake after a kill?"

Kai looked over and that the other man's gloved hands were absolutely still around fragile glass, just like the rest of him. So much for playing tough, like earlier. "It's part of the business."

Kai downed the rest of his vodka, bloody mouth and all.

"I am the business." There was a note of melancholy to Replicant's tone before the inflection faded and settled into the tiny cracks of his newfound humanity.

Kai set down the glass a little too harshly onto the coffee table and headed into the kitchen. His mouth was killing him, even with the help of the alcohol.

He managed to spit out two mouthfuls of blood and wiggle a loose molar before the hairs of his neck stood up.

Hurk was standing by the entryway to the kitchen, his glass of vodka untouched. There was a dark look in his eyes that spoke of self-control and learned wariness that was easily visible despite that poor lighting of the kitchen.

"If I ran, would you come after me? Kill me?"

Kai used an old dishrag – it was probably clean - to wipe at his mouth. It took a moment longer than normal for him to think his response through.

"No," He couldn't believe he was saying this, but he meant it. Kai threw the towel down on top of the dish rack. "I owe you one. But someone else will."

Kai walked past Hurk, who slid out of the way so that he could pass by without touching. He lay down heavily on the couch and reached for the half-empty bottle of vodka.

Hurk didn't return to his spot by the window; he instead opted to lean his hip against the back of the couch and faced the out-of-place piano that was half-buried underneath papers and manual tools.

"Did you ever take that test yourself?"

Silence was his answer.

Hurk turned and saw that the other man had passed out, the bottle of vodka wedged in a small space between his body and the couch cushion.

The piano was an ugly sight to behold, but Hurk was much more interested in the pictures that adorned every inch of available space.

Hurk set down the still-full glass of vodka on top of a stack of papers and sat down carefully on the bench.

Most pictures were of unfamiliar faces men, women, and children smiling and laughing, but some were familiar. In fact, two of the pictures were just like the ones he had believed to be of his own childhood.

Hurk took out his own copies and compared them.

They were exactly the same, down to the last elegant loop of ink on the backs from a proud mother on the day of her child's fifth birthday.

So. It was true. He is—

There was a creak of old springs, and Hurk looked over to see that Kai was sitting up, one arm pressed over what was most likely bruised ribs. The bottle of vodka clunked back onto the coffee table.

"Do you play?" Kai's voice was low and rough, almost reminiscent of a growl.

Hurk turned to study the sheet music. After a moment, his right hand played through a simple melody that jarred against his nerves. It wasn't right…

"Perhaps, perhaps not. I don't remember, either way."

Kai limped over and looked at the sheet music for a moment, before he reached over Hurk's shoulder and pressed a key that was right next to his hand. "D, not C-sharp."

Long fingers, roughly calloused with both good and bad experiences in life, expertly played the melody, and Hurk watched as each note followed through like they were made for each other.

Hurk didn't startle – it was a little human nuance, but it was something his creator had left out on purpose when she made him – when a hand fisted in his hair and pulled his head back.

The pain in his scalp was rendered negligible as his systems focused on the sudden feeling of teeth scraping up his neck and nipping at his shaved jawline.

The sudden shift in attention was strange. Not foreign, not entirely unwelcome, but…

Hurk shoved the other man away – his eyes were more-or-less dilated, typical of inebriated or aroused humans - as gently as he could and stood up, truly uncertain for the first time in his short life.

"Kai. I'm not sure—" Hurk edged towards the entryway, where the front door would be.

With a show of strength that surprised him, Hurk's back ended up slamming against the wall next to the window, his jacket and shirt bunched up in Kai's fists.

"Ask me to kiss you."

The smell of alcohol wasn't strong at all. In fact, it was barely there, so… he wasn't drunk in the least.

"I-"

"Ask me to kiss you."

"…Kiss me."

With that, Kai pressed all of his repressed emotions and wants into that one kiss that left him gasping for breath. When they parted, the other man's lips were smeared an enticing maroon from the blood that was still sluggishly seeping from the cut inside his mouth and the loose molar.

A flare of bright light from the world outside shone through the blinds, sending strips of shadows skittering across their faces as they breathed heavily within the silence of the apartment.

"Ask me to touch you."

"…Touch me."

The hands gripping his clothes let go, and Hurk shrugged his jacket off and let it fall to the floor. His gloves were tugged off next, and then his shirt went up and over his head to be tossed… somewhere.

"Let me please you, sir…"

"Call me that again."

"Sir…?"

The raspy words coming out of his mouth were remnants of a faded memory. Hurk didn't particularly want to remember how or when, so he focused his efforts on undoing the buttons on the other man's shirt.

Hurk slid his hands down the man's bare sides, mindful of the bruising on the muscled torso, and let the other man slowly push him down onto his knees.

One hand tangled encouragingly into his hair, and the other guided him towards his salvation.

Hurk didn't dare say the next three words that were his last truly coherent thoughts of the night, before the pre-programmed pleasure module in his head took over:

Love me. Please.