Beautiful Martial Artist Suzuki scowled. He glared. He blasted the insolent shrubbery into confetti.

Beautiful Martial Artist Suzuki was more than a little inebriated.

Actually, he was completely wasted. Thrashed. Drunk off his ass.

"What, precisely, was the reason for that?"

He spun, intending to transfer his glare to the owner of the soft, resonant voice that had asked that dry question... and fell over on his rear.

It must have been an earthquake that had caused him to lose his footing. For the mighty Beautiful Martial Artist Suzuki never stumbled!

K'so! First the trees and now the soil! The very Makai was turning against him!

"You're drunk again, aren't you?"

Beautiful Martial Artist Suzuki did not dignify that with an answer. He decided lying down in the soft grass and not-so-soft shards of bark from the trees he'd destroyed was a good idea. The moon was very pretty, breaking the darkness of the night sky with its pale glow. Beautiful Martial Artist Suzuki blinked, and the moon blinked back.

Then the moon was eclipsed by a familiar face. Soft blue hair fell to brush his cheek and wide violet eyes were suddenly all he could see.

Shishi Wakamaru's delicate features were drawn in an expression of annoyance as he knelt over the supine Suzuki. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Why? What's it to you, 'Shishi-sama'?" Suzuki asked, alcohol-scented voice mocking as he reached up to tug on a strand of silken hair.

Shishi's eyes narrowed, then he sighed explosively. "Not this again."

"Hn."

Shishi scowled and grabbed Suzuki's arm, dragging the sodden youkai to his unsteady feet with a showing of strength belied by his slender build.

"Itai! Shishi, whatcha doin'?" Suzuki protested, sagging in the other's grip.

Shishi glared, pulling one of Suzuki's arms over his shoulders and moving out of the ruined clearing. "Taking you back to our room until you've sobered up."

"That's no fun," Suzuki proclaimed, listing to one side and nearly pulling them both over. "Ne! I've got an idea!"

Shishi gave him a measuring look. "What?" he asked suspiciously.

"How about you get drunk too?!"

Shishi rolled his eyes. "Why did I ask?"

Suzuki began resisting with more determination as they neared the building in which they were staying. "Ne, what about your fan-club, 'Waka-chan'?!" he asked bitingly.

Shishi growled. "They're all in bed, like good little girls. Come on, Suzuki!" "Don't wanna!"

Shishi let go of his struggling burden, and Suzuki promptly fell over, landing with a thud.

"Uf! Kisama!" Suzuki surged almost to his feet, tottered over again, then finally managed to make it into a mostly upright position, taking what might be considered a fighting stance... if it were viewed generously.

Shishi shook his head, then gave Suzuki a quick clip, instantly felling him.

"I don't know why I bother."

****

Suzuki groaned as he slowly regained consciousness.

"What hit me?" he grumbled, rubbing his temple, in spite of the fact that doing so caused him more pain than leaving it untouched would have.

"I did."

He raised his eyes to glare at Shishi, who was sitting quietly on the bed beside him, hands folded inside his voluminous sleeves. "You--!" He started up from the mattress, then froze. He lifted one finger, which Shishi examined with interest. "Hold that thought."

Shishi closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face as Suzuki proceeded to throw up his guts out the window.

"Feel better?" he asked, lifting one feathery brow as Suzuki finally staggered back to the bed and flopped down.

"No," Suzuki groaned into the pillow. After a moment, he muttered, "You didn't have to hit me so hard."

Shishi snorted, rising gracefully from his seat and padding across the room. "I didn't. That was the effect of all the alcohol you downed this evening. You can't blame me for something that was your own fault."

"Yes I can," Suzuki grunted.

Shishi's lips quirked. "Here." He sat next to Suzuki, holding a glass of water.

Suzuki sat up, blonde hair tumbling in his eyes. "Arigatou."

"Nan demo."

After a moment, Suzuki rolled off the bed and wavered across the room, taking a roundabout route, and eventually winding up at the pitcher and bowl on the top of the dresser. He scrubbed his face, the cold water seeming to revive him a little, though he was still pretty sloshed.

Wiping his face on his shirt, he turned back toward Shishi. His knees buckled in protest at the movement, which require far more coordination than he possessed at the moment, and he was spilled once more to the ground.

"Shimatta!"

Shishi rubbed the bridge of his nose, then sighed and rose, helping Suzuki weave his way back to the bed. "I hope you're ready to sleep this off," he said, stripping away Suzuki's damp shirt and tugging off his shoes with familiar ease. "Honestly, what were you trying to do? Drink Chuu under the table? Baka ya--mmph!"

Shishi's scolding was abruptly cut off by Suzuki's lips closing firm and demanding over his own. After a startled moment, he shoved sharply away. "Not now, Suzuki!"

Suzuki's brows drew down in a frown. "Why not? Am I not good enough for you?"

Shishi blew out a sound halfway between a sigh and a snort. "No, you're too drunk!"

"Yeah, right." Suzuki's burning blue eyes pierced Shishi's cool violet accusingly. "I'm not good enough for the wonderful 'Shishi-sama', that's all there is to it!"

Shishi's mouth twisted. "And is this going to turn into another 'who's the most beautiful' contest, Suzuki?"

Suzuki glowered. "You don't get it, do you." It was a statement, not a question.

"Nani?" Shishi blinked as Suzuki rolled over, turning his back.

"I'm going to sleep."

"No, you're not. Not until we're through talking." Shishi contemplated Suzuki's set back and the hard muscles of his arm, and took the more intelligent course, moving around Suzuki and lounging beside the drunk youkai, violet gaze striking blue once more.

Suzuki blinked, a startled look crossing his face. Evidently he hadn't considered that Shishi might make that move.

Shishi bit back a smirk, as this was not the time for levity. Besides, at this moment, Suzuki would doubtless take it the entirely wrong way if he were to give in to amusement.

"Lemme 'lone," Suzuki muttered, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face in the pillow.

Shishi chewed on his lower lip, thinking. After a moment, he sat up and curled next to Suzuki, gently but firmly massaging the taut, knotted muscles of Suzuki's shoulders and back. Slowly, seemingly reluctantly, Suzuki began to relax under these careful ministrations.

"So what is this really about, Suzuki?" he asked quietly, before the other youkai could fall asleep under his skilled hands. "If you're not still trying to prove you're more beautiful than me...."

Suzuki snorted, lifting his head and resting his chin on his folded arms. "That's not it. I'm beautiful, but there's no reason you can't be more beautiful. A little."

Shishi blinked, startled. This was the first time Suzuki had granted him that much. The alcohol must be making him more loquacious than usual.

"Then is it my 'fan-club', as you call them?"

Shishi knew he'd struck on the right answer when Suzuki grabbed the pillow, sticking his head under and resolutely pulling it down around his ears.

"Ah. Sou ka." He reached forward and tugged. Suzuki held on. Shishi tugged harder. Finally the sound of material ripping rent a sharp path through the room, and Shishi had control of the pillow. Fortunately for both of them, it was only the pillowcase that had torn, not the pillow itself.

Suzuki rolled over and levered up to rest on his elbows, glaring through his tangled blonde bangs, blue eyes flashing.

Shishi cocked his head, silken hair whispering over the white material of his shirt. "So you're jealous that I have a bunch of groupies following me around? Why? You've got your own share of female fans...."

Suzuki stared at him in shock a moment, then burst into loud, raucous laughter as he fell over backward, covering his eyes with one arm, the other flung wide.

Shishi blinked a moment. His face tightened into a peevish expression. He did *not* like being laughed at. "Nanda?!" he demanded angrily. "What's so funny?!"

Suzuki suddenly stopped laughing and surged up, grasping Shishi's collar and pulling the other youkai tightly against him. "I'm not jealous that you have a fan-club; I'm jealous because you're *mine*!" he growled just before he claimed Shishi's mouth most emphatically.

Shishi's large violet eyes grew huge for a moment, then slid slowly closed as he responded quite willingly to the passion Suzuki was communicating through their joined lips.

Shishi was smiling as they finally parted for breath. He rested against Suzuki's broad chest, finger tracing lightly over the smooth muscles, his slitted eyes amused. Suzuki stared up at him, his expression a mixture of belligerence and apprehension.

"Baka," Shishi purred, squirming closer to brush his lips against Suzuki's lightly, then swiftly away. "You have nothing to be jealous of."

Suzuki gave him a suspicious look. "Ah?"

"Ah." Shishi nodded most emphatically, his hair pooling on Suzuki's chest, brushing lightly over his nipples and the curve of his collarbone. "I do belong to you."

Suzuki's eyes grew wide and his powerful arms suddenly clasped Shishi in a smothering embrace. That was the most explicit indication of what their relationship really was that Shishi had ever granted him. "Honto ni?" he asked breathlessly, as he rolled them both over in a tumble of Shishi's blue hair and slender limbs.

"Ah." Shishi smiled up at him.

Suzuki caught his breath and bent to kiss Shishi quite thoroughly. Suddenly he lifted his head, brow furrowed.

"What now?" Shishi asked, blinking at him, his expression verging on annoyance.

Suzuki smirked.

"Am I still too drunk?"

"Baka!"

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"You know, if it weren't for the blade, I'd call that thing something else."
Kiryuu Touma
"Labyrinth - Koganei Style"
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