The Drinking Game

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I do not promote drinking. If you do drink, please do so responsibly. And if you want to play “Seraph’s anime drinking game”, please feel free, but I don’t recommend it. Really, I don’t. You’d have to be watching some REALLY bad anime for this one.
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“What a horrible mission,” Omi breathed heavily, dropping his bag full of darts to the floor of the Koneko shop. “We barely got out of there with our lives, much less the documents.”

Ken stripped off his bugnuks and dropped them next to Omi’s bag. “Yeah, tell me about it. And since when do we go after documents? I thought we were assassins. Is Kritiker running out of jobs for us?”

“I doubt it. We’re just the best team they have. For anything. Even stealing documents from top-security, secret headquarters that only we and the Yakuza know about.” The Weiss boys all looked at their fearless, usually non-communicative leader. Aya simply shook his head and dropped down on the couch, still holding his katana in one hand.

Yoji was already fishing through the cabinets. “Yeah, it was pretty terrible. Gunfire, wild animals, booby traps. An obstacle of shit for us to wade through.” He finally found what he was looking for: several gleaming bottles of hard liquor. “And that’s why I plan to get trashed as quickly as possible!” Yoji walked over to the couch and plopped down, forcing Aya to sit up. Yoji ignored the ensuing Death Glare. Ken sighed and wandered over, sitting on the floor next to Yoji. “Hand me one of those bottles. I could use one, too.”

Yoji let out an incredulous laugh. “Ken-ken wants to drink?!”

“Damn right, Ken-ken wants to drink.” Ken snatched a bottle from him and popped the lid off.

The seventeen-year old Omi frowned. “I hate you guys. What can I do about my nerves?”

With some effort, Ken managed to put down the bottle and make him some hot chocolate. Omi thanked him happily. As soon as he took one sip, he was out like a light. Ken sighed and carried the small boy up stairs. When he returned, Yoji was giggling slightly. “Does that always work when you give tired, underage kids hot cocoa?”

Ken frowned at him. “Cut it out, Yoji. You know you don’t like to chase around underage girls.”

Yoji shrugged and took a drink. “Well, there’s a first for everything.”

Aya lazily flicked on the television, not paying attention to the other two. An anime appeared on the screen. Two characters were heatedly arguing with ach other. One was a boy with pink hair and the other was a girl with neon orange locks. Yoji quickly sat up, a big grin on his face. “You guys! I know how we can have some fun and relax!”

Aya couldn’t hold back a disdainful groan.

Yoji ignored him. “Let’s play a drinking game.”

Ken looked a bit hesitant. “Drinking game?”

“Yeah, an anime drinking game. That way, we’ll pace our drinking.”

Ken’s head started spinning. Yoji? Acting semi-responsibly? This couldn’t be right. He sat back down on the floor next to him and looked at the screen. The orange-haired girl had slapped the pink-haired boy. Yoji quickly took two drinks from his bottle. “Assault! Two drinks.”

Ken and Aya both took two drinks. In unison. Ken glanced over at Aya, who, surprise surprise, offered him a small smile that seemed to say: What can it hurt? Ken was really confused. Aya was being relatively normal and Yoji was being relatively responsible. Had he stepped into an alternate universe? Yoji was already going on about the rules of the drinking game. “Okay, one drink for sappy romance scenes and swearing. Two drinks for physical assault and jokes that are cheesy or don’t make sense. Three drinks if someone breaks down, crying. If it’s a sappy romance scene, too, then you gotta take four drinks. Four for all-out fighting and/or epileptic-fit-inducing scenes. Five if somebody dies, and, my personal favorite, six drinks for nudity!”

Ken took back what he had thought earlier about Yoji being semi-responsible. They were going to be wasted in no time.

The anime was a very cheesy and emotional three-hour flick that centered around the pink-haired boy and the orange-haired girl. The Weiss boys didn’t know their names, so they just called everyone by the color of their hair. Apparently Pinky and Orange were a Romeo and Juliet type. That meant swearing, “retarded insults--Cheesy joke! Everyone take two drinks,” and fight scenes all throughout the beginning, romance, tears, and “Wow, they got undressed pretty quick--guess that’s four drinks” “No, Yoji, quite trying to cheat. You said six,” in the middle, and then more fighting and finally an epileptic-fit-inducing death scene between Pinky and Orange. “Nine drinks, boys! Chug it down, now!”

Needless to say, Ken and Yoji couldn’t stop laughing, mainly due to Aya, who would make some cynical remark about just how dumb the characters were that would send them reeling. Aya didn’t say anything out loud, but before he was too drunk to think clearly he decided that he was having a pretty good time hanging out with Ken and Yoji.

Then Yoji passed out.

Ken and Aya laughed at his unconscious form for awhile, gloating that they could hold their liquor better than him, then got a better idea. Well, it wasn’t better. It was pretty dumb. But all practical jokes drunks play are dumb, so we’ll excuse the boys. They put his shoes in the freezer, removed the lenses from his sunglasses and wrapped tape around the middle so that he looked like a “dork,” as Ken declared, and drew a false mustache on him in permanent marker.

Ken sat back, giggling goofily as he surveyed his handiwork. “He’s gonna be sooo pissed tomorrow, Aya!”

Aya was laughing too. His face was flushed pink from the booze. “Hee hee, we’ll just tell him tha’ the goons from the mission kidnapped him, and when we rescued him he wassh like this.”

“How are we gonna--hiccup!-- explain the shoes in the freezer?”

“Huh? Freezer? Shoes?”

“We have a freezer?”

“No we don’t. Whatchu talking ‘bout a freezer for? You’re drunk, Ken. Lemme help you get to your room.”

“No, you’re drunk, Aya.”

“No, you’re drunk, Ken.”

The arguing went on in this fashion as Aya looped his arm around Ken’s waist and lugged him up the stairs. Ken didn’t make it easy on Aya. He kept threatening to pass out, his head lolling backwards on his neck, exposing the tanned throat. Somehow Aya made it, despite Ken’s frequent grumblings.

Ken blinked awake to the sound of his alarm clock next morning. It was horribly loud. The noise reverberated in his skull, but he found he couldn’t move to shut it off. Suddenly an ivory fist slammed down on it, breaking it to bits. Aya’s smooth, breathy voice muttered in his ear. “I’ll buy you a new one, Ken.”

Ken was suddenly wide awake. His eyes cleared from their hangover with preternatural speed. A very naked Aya was laying on top of him, his arms wrapped around him in a bear-hug. To Ken’s shock, he was also naked. Memories of last night came flooding back to him.

“Don’t worry, Ken, I can make it back to my own room. I’m not the drunk one.”

“I’m not drunk, Aya! Quit trying to say--” Ken fell over backwards, his head suddenly whirring. Aya quickly caught him before he fell, but his own equilibrium was not so great either, and the two ended up pitched to the floor, Ken sheltered in Aya’s arms.

They stared into each other eyes for a long time, breathing heavily, the smell of liquor on each other’s breaths, mingling pleasantly with their own individual scents. Ken shifted slightly in Aya’s arms, rather liking the feel of being nestled in them. Aya was a protector by nature, his attitude towards his sister was evidence of that; he was a stone guardian, a man chiseled from marble with the heart of a… Well, Ken hadn’t known quite what kind of heart Aya had at the time because he was so smashed. He knew it was something fiery and passionate and grand, though.

Then Aya whispered the eleven words that would change the course of that night, and possibly even their lives, forever. “Maybe I can’t go back to my own room after all.”

So there they were, entangled in each others arms. Aya didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable. Ken looked up at him. “Do you… remember what happened last night?”

Aya face was emotionless and his voice was quiet, yet rather jovial. “Of course I do. Would you like me to brief you?” He proceeded to rest his chin on Ken’s collarbone and whisper, in minute detail, all the things Ken had begged him to do to him--and vice versa--last night. Ken remembered all too clearly, but who was he to tell Aya to stop whispering the erotic memories in his ear? By the time Aya was done, Ken’s face was flushed as red as a tomato.

Aya blinked at this. Interpreting it for a negative reaction, he quickly shifted and sat up, stating, “You regret this.”

Ken flushed harder, especially at seeing the pale, lithe and breathtakingly beautiful body of the other man, and caught Aya’s wrist as he began to pull away. “Aya, no, no.” Aya looked back. Ken laughed very softly, his eyes bashful. “I mean… Before last night, I had never even considered being with a man. And now… I admired you before, you know? You’re so perfect. In every way. You always look wonderful, you’re a great fighter, you’re very professional, and you have a very sensitive side to you… When you’re willing to let it show. I’m very glad last night happened.” He took a deep breath and looked at Aya. What if Aya didn’t feel the same way? Sure he had described their act last night in great detail, but that didn’t mean he felt that it was love and not lust. Holy hell, did I just basically say that I’m in love with Aya?

Aya was facing him now, his face beautiful in divine concentration. Whatever he was going to say to Ken would be very serious, and he would mean it with all of his soul. That look, that look could penetrate anything, could peer into hearts and find truths hidden there. And so it did for Ken. He was in love with Aya.

Yet he said nothing. Instead, he slipped back into the bed and enveloped Ken in a gentle kiss. When he pulled away, Ken was panting.

Aya smiled and leaned closer to him, resting an elegant hand on his muscular thigh. “Keep doing that, Ken. You sound so sexy.”

“Man,” Ken said, meeting that violet gaze once more, “after all that liquor… You don’t have a hangover or anything?”

Aya rested his other hand on his other thigh and leaned forward, whispering in his ear so that his lips brushed the sensitive skin there. “Nope. And don’t forget that I want to go again.”

Ken balked, not sure if he was ready to take another onslaught of love-making. “You must have incredible stamina!”

“Well, I excuse my crass language, but I did fuck you for several hours straight last night.” Ken didn’t mind the crass language. Aya somehow made the f-word sound hopelessly sensual. Aya had pulled back and was looking at him, studying his face with that all-knowing gaze of his. “Judging from the faraway look in your eyes, you don’t need any reminders about last night.” He leaned forward again, pushing Ken down into the mattress. Ken sighed as the pleasant feel of Aya’s body over his returned. “You look like you enjoyed yourself.”

“Yes, very much.”

“Then wouldn’t you like to know how good I am when I’m sober?”

Like a bolt of lightning, Ken’s hand, almost of its own volition, had grabbed the phone on the stand next to his bed (near the remains of the alarm clock) and speed-dialed Omi’s number. As soon as Ken heard the other end pick up, he said: “Aya and I aren’t coming in to work today.” In the next second, the phone was back on the cradle, and the hand that had held it was very busy doing other, more interesting things.

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