Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Curl ❯ Chapter 35

Author's Note:

Shounen-ai warning. You know what that means dontcha? More angsty Kama-chan. XD But seriously. I'm just establishing characters mostly… everyone has several sides, some which everyone doesn't get to see. Even though Kama-chan is a fun character, I still want to emphasize his humanity. Just so he can't only function as a "total perv sex freak cross-dresser." Or maybe I'm just sadistic with all the characters I choose to include. O.o; Tell me whatcha think.

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It was always a shame that real life experiences usually don't have their own slot on resumes. For example, you can't put "Experience with Drunks" under volunteer work. Of course this could only be attached with the description: "held hair back to prevent for vomiting."

And although all stars were pointing to "stay the hell away from the fire water," Aoshi still found himself saddled at a nearby yuppie bar next to his brother… who didn't fit in. Honestly, the man didn't even know what to order, hence, why he needed Sano there. That, and only alcoholics and desperates drink alone. And even if Aoshi was either, he didn't want to appear as such. The boy next to him, coincidentally related by some twist of fate, was currently devouring a set of grease encrusted wings.

"Ya'sure you don't want any? Y'shouldn't drink on an empty stomach," he said through sputtering chicken skin. Aoshi merely shrugged, and went back to looking at the glass in front of him. The man sat beside him with his elbows on the bar, and his fingers pressed into the bridge of his nose. Then the bartender appeared. He was an odd looking character, who seemed to always have one eye closed. Aoshi thought it might've been the man's anti-gravitational hair weighing down one side of his skull more than the other. "Hey, pal, can I get another?" Sano pointed his finger back to his empty glass.

Aoshi still didn't touch his drink. He told Sano that he wasn't here for serious drinking, but his brother had ordered for him before he walked in the door. So they were both drinking Manhattans. At four-thirty in the afternoon. Why? Because Sano liked the cherry.

(Manhattans, for those who don't know, is served in a martini glass. However, unlike a martini, the drink is red, and has no gin. ^_^; It's similarly chilled and strained with shaved ice, and has whiskey or bourbon, with sweet vermouth, sometimes angostura bitters, and a cherry. If none of that means anything to you, then just think of a martini that's red. )

Frankly, it looked like a chick drink, Aoshi reasoned. He was making excuses for not drinking. Gad, he knew the magical qualities the stuff had, but he also knew… he knew. Resting his forehead in his hand, he watched as a plate of those tiny little cocktail sandwiches appeared in front of him. 'What the…' He gave his brother a sidelong glance.

"Since ya don't appreciate good grease," and the boy continued to crunch through chicken bone. Where the hell did Sanosuke learn how to be a brother?

'When the hell did he get to know me so well?' Tucking that question to the back of his mind, he straightened up to proper posture, and eyed his drink once more. A voice, his brother's, came up beside him… scented oddly by the mix of chicken and whiskey. Aoshi swore that boy had no taste buds and was doing one helluvan injustice to his stomach.

"Ya don't gotta do it," the voice was soft, but was obviously still forcing some manliness. Sano wasn't going to be pointed out as being a softy that's for sure. "I mean, I dunno where you came up with the idea to go drinkin', but ya'could get a virgin." Sano nudged Aoshi's side with his elbow, winking like he had a disease concerning nerve endings. And just when Aoshi was gathering hope that Sano had grown up.

Shaking his head, he knocked the drink back in one go.

*-*-*-*

Misao approached the classroom where her detention was supposed to be. Honjou-sensei was more than pleased to constantly remind her that she was the only person who could possibly manage detention on the very first day. It was almost like the woman was going to pat her on the back for a good job at screwing up.

Her feet were dragged behind her, and she could almost drown out all of Tsubame's soft words. The girl was trying to coax Misao back to her energetic self. Granted, she hadn't seen much of it, but there was definitely a spark when she stared down those two knuckleheads that morning. Tsubame smiled and patted Misao on the back, "It's only an hour…"

"Yeah yeah…" Misao droaned. They parted ways at the door, and Misao waved sullenly as she watched Tsubame scamper off to freedom. Placing her hand on the door knob, she took a deep breath and let herself in.

Nobody was there. She blinked, glancing at the clock. Classes ended at ten to three, and her sentence was to begin at three. Her watch said two after. She smirked, crossing her arms triumphantly.

"Well!" She exclaimed to no one in particular, "Since there's no one here no point in me staying…" Unconsciously swinging around to exit the door she had just opened, she rammed smack into something. No, doors aren't made out of well chiseled flesh covered with pressed linen. 'Not. Again.'

"Miss Makimachi. So glad you could grace my detention hall with your presence," a large calloused hand settled on her shoulder as the man pushed past her. "Take a seat."

'Great, just great. Hiko-sensei probably thinks I'm a trouble-maker now. Damn you Honjou!' she shook her fist a little in front of her, out of sight of the teacher and spun around and unceremoniously dropped herself into a seat and pouted. She could ogle the physics' teacher anytime this term during class, but right now she was in the mood to devise the demise of one certain etiquette teacher.

Several minutes, and six ticks later, she was stirred out of her thoughts of homicide by a deep cough. Glancing up briefly, she saw Hiko-sensei leaning over the podium at the front of the room. "So exactly what did you do to get detention on the first day? 'cause you know. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

Misao winced. Hiko-sensei tugged a piece of crumpled paper out of his pocket and spread it out on the podium. "… Makimachi Misao, one-hour detention, assigned by…" there was a pause, and Misao swore she saw the man shudder, "Honjou Kamatari." The girl merely nodded in defeat.

"Look. I'm going to turn and examine the black board for any cracks. If while I do this, the one and only student here decided to leave, and save the rest of this hour of my time…" Misao's eyes bugged out as she watched as the handsome rugged visage slowly turned away from her. Then she became oddly fascinated with the way the muscles of his back worked beneath his shirt. Her jaw audibly clicked as she shut her mouth to prevent from drooling. The teacher shook his head, "… *anytime* now, while I'm looking *away*…" He snapped his fingers three times in succession.

It wasn't like he wasn't accustomed to being ogled. He just had better things to do, and if it was just *one* student anyway… and hell it was assigned by Honjou, so it was probably something girly and stupid. He recalled the time a girl was sent to detention for the nervous habit of biting her nails. Four ticks later, Hiko-sensei swiped a hand over his face. The girl had yet to move.

This being because she was in shock. A teacher was letting her get away with it? Granted, she could've said that the books she'd been balancing on her head *accidentally* tumbled and whacked Honjou-sensei repeatedly… She snickered. 'Gad that was good…'

"Look. I know I'm sexy. But I'm a teacher. The longer you stare, the more forbidden I become," there was a verbal grin attached to his words to match the widening grin on his face. "… just get out of here, will ya?" He waved his hand towards the nearest exit, taking a moment and then walking out himself. Glancing at her before he left, he just rolled his eyes dismissively. Ah the trials of being a god.

It took about another thirty seconds for Misao to snap out of it, and she jettisoned out of her chair and bounded out of those gates as fast as she could before any of the other teachers - specifically that freak Honjou - saw her.

*-*-*-*

Hiko Seijurou was walking back to the science resource room, where all the science teachers desks were, and found a woman blocking the doorway. Correction, it was just Kamatari. Rolling his eyes once more, he gingerly pushed the slight figure out of his way to collect his things.

"Seiji-kun's been a bad boy…" Kamatari arched against the door frame, and clucked his tongue. "Letting her get off so easy…" Waving a scolding finger, "What would the principal say?"

"That chain-smoking toothpick can say what he wants, and you -" He pointed accusingly at the man in woman's clothing as he gathered his briefcase and straightened his blazer. "What would the principal say to a teacher making excuses to keep another teacher on the premises as long as possible in the hopes to jump into his pants for a tryst in the janitor's closet?" As much as this fed his ego, Hiko had places to go, people to see, and sake to drink.

Kamatari's back dropped onto the door frame, and pouted. His arms folded in front of him, and he raised one hand to gesture through the air, "Well gee, when you put it that way you just kill the romance…"

Pushing past the smaller man again, taking a glance around to make sure no one was around. A few select students and teachers were around, but they were engrossed in Q&A about the ins and outs of the class requirements and all that worthless dribble. Hiko locked eyes with Honjou, and while the okami looked almost hopeful, with a sparkle in his eyes… Hiko promptly backhanded him to the backside of his head.

Kamatari took it off-handedly, and chuckled, elbowing Hiko as he made his way out the door. He was oddly delighted when those who knew of his double life treated him like one of the guys. That only other time anyone did that was…

His eyes regained their sparkle, as his hands rubbed together in front of him. Kamatari had some strings to pull, and they were attached to one Shinomori Aoshi. He practically skipped over to his desk over in the humanities division and plotted.

*-*-*-*

"Look broomhead, *I'll* tell ya when mah'damn limit is!" Sano's fist slammed onto the bar top. Although, all the customers, after about Sano's third drink, knew the signs and lifted their glasses so they wouldn't tumble and spill. Of course, these were the patrons who decided to remain at the bar, if for no other reason than a good show.

Aoshi, on the other hand, wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He'd followed his Manhattan with shot of tequila, which burned all the way down his throat, but somehow managed to dull his senses to the feeling all at the same time. He was only getting a mild buzz, but the suicidal tendency lurking was a result of overbearing embarrassment of being out in public with his brother.

This is why he didn't drink.

It always led to violence. And he didn't quite know the etiquette when calling one's mother to tell them that you've torn her other son limb by limb.

*-*-*-*

Aoshi's last experience with alcohol, that didn't include the occasional glass of wine with dinner or champagne for a celebration, was of course… back in college, with none other than the infamous Honjou Kamatari.

Kamatari was generally annoying, but he got worse when they reached college. The times they were supposed to live out to the fullest in every method of debauchery available. It made Aoshi want to put his head through a wall every time he was locked out of the dorm room because Kamatari was having "guests". On one occasion Kamatari forgot the age-old sign of leaving a tie on the door knob for "do not disturb" and Aoshi remembered trying to count the number of limbs peeking out of the bed sheets to take note of exactly how *many* people were participating. Hell, if Kamatari focused on sports rather than sex, he'd have easily rounded up a soccer team.

Not that he hadn't wrapped his finger around a couple of the players. Aoshi quickly retreated, but gave Kamatari a piece of his mind the following day. Well, afternoon - when Kamatari awoke to the land of the living. Aoshi wondered where the hell Kamatari found the time to keep his grades up. As far as he knew, his roommate's schedule consisted of drinking, partying, sex, and pestering Aoshi to do any of the above with him.

One day it had just snapped, and Aoshi had agreed to go to some stupid frat party just to get his roommate off his back. This was the last time he drank, and the reasoning behind never wanting to do it again.

Because Aoshi wasn't well versed in the party life, he was never told that he should always get his own drinks. What he knew of drugs and mickies, was what he read in the paper. Some girl found with this in her system in this alley with this many samples of semen strewn all over her bukkake style… Aoshi couldn't have known that there are those who try to pull this shit on guys as well. In particularly the ones who show up with other guys like Kamatari, who was flamboyant in his lack of sexual preference.

Kamatari should've told him. He should've warned him. He should've known Aoshi wouldn't know heads or tails. And hell, when he found him, Aoshi didn't know what a head was or a tail. It was about an hour and a half into the party, when Kamatari searched out for his bosom buddy. They'd been broken up at the door when Kamatari was pounced on by some people he knew, and Aoshi resigned himself to the wall. It was one of those times Kamatari cursed being so small, because couldn't carry Aoshi to the dorms himself.

The boy wasn't as dumb as he looked. Sure, he was a lil' tipsy himself, but unless he was sure who slipped Aoshi whatever the hell they gave him… He wouldn't put his friend - a friendship that was mostly one way, but anyhow - he wouldn't put his friend in the hands of danger. Although, he sort of already did, and he felt like shit for it.

Their dorm was only just across the palisade, but Kamatari couldn't carry him all the way there. He was tipsy, and Aoshi was even heavier when passed out. Because of his girly figure, that men and women alike drooled after, he had to call a cab on his cell to take him forty seconds away.

Lucky for him, the cabby was a nice Persian fellow, who had lived in England since a young age. Kamatari had a nice little chat, versing his improving English skills, as the cabby helped him carry his fallen angel to their dorm room. Granted, it cost an extra three bucks, but hey, at least he got to practice some English that was civil. You know, other than things like, "hard" "fuck" "baby" "lick" "suck"… well, you get the idea.

Kamatari paid the man, and got his card. The Persian's name was Robbie - or at least that's what the card said. In the future, Kamatari would get accustomed to calling said cabby to his rescue, but that's in other news. Now he had to face the problem of what the hell to do with his roommate.

Flipping the lights on and wincing as his eyes adjusted, he sat on the side of Aoshi's bed where he laid still and almost had a waxy complexion to him. In other words, he looked dead. Kamatari flipped out his compact mirror to check if Aoshi was breathing. He was, faintly, and slowly. Snapping it shut with a click, he took a deep breath and did the unthinkable.

He slapped Aoshi.

Kamatari had dealt with this sort of thing before, and this was the part of the procedure that was the most harmful - to his own person. He'd known people to jump up and deck him… but at least that was better than when the person started gagging and choking on their own vomit, because even if you had a black eye, at least you knew they were going to be okay. If Aoshi had jumped up and decked him, Kamatari would have a lot less things to worry about than just the hangover he'd be nursing tomorrow morning. Like a handful of broken ribs, and if he were lucky, no punctured organs.

But there was a method to his madness. Kamatari cupped Aoshi's face with both hands, tilting his head back slightly… using the tips of his fore and middle fingers he pulled Aoshi's eyes open. The pupils were a little dilated, but that wasn't too bad, and the redness was quickly fading. He concluded that Aoshi was given nothing but a really strong cocktail, which he could just sleep off.

Breathing a sigh of relief he'd been holding in for quite some time, he went about stripping Aoshi and putting him to bed. First went the shoes, and the socks… Kamatari paused at the pants. He noted that they were nice pants. Well-made pants. Well-fitting pants. The boy smacked himself for his perversion. Even if he could get Aoshi to wake up, he wouldn't accept any of Kamatari's advances… and even if he did, both would probably pass out before anything reached completion.

Yanking off the pants and hanging them up along with Aoshi's belt, he left the larger boy there in just his dress shirt and boxers. So he'll have to suffer a few wrinkles, it would be better than Kamatari risking having to nurse a raging hard-on in addition to a hangover. It's a bitch to jerk off with a power drill rumbling in your skull… Having to nod your head back and forth while he moans… Let's just say that wouldn't help the migraine.

Kamatari's hands fluttered at the side of his head as if to banish all those naughty naughty thoughts out of his mind. Opening his eyes and gazing down at his fallen comrade, he did one more thing for him. It took a lot of effort, as he'd been exerting himself more than usual in the past hour or so, he turned Aoshi over, and left his head resting on his cheek near the edge of the bed. His legs sort of hung off the other end… but if Aoshi suddenly had the need to vomit, he'd either do it in the trashcan waiting for him by his head (which Kamatari neatly placed there for him), or he'd vomit where he was, but it would have less of a chance of coming back down his throat and blocking his air passage.

Getting ready to go to bed himself, Kamatari shuffled out of his shoes, and shimmied out of his liquid leather pants. He fished out a pair of boxers, thinking if he rolled out of bed or something in the night - Aoshi wouldn't want to deal with see Kamatari going el commando. Dragging off his mesh shirt he draped it over his desk chair. His hand drifted to the back of his neck as he stared out the window. He was sore. Tired. And everything was laced with a hazy liquor induced fuzz. It wasn't the first time he asked himself why he did this to himself.

But this time he'd done it to Aoshi. He could pretend to forgive himself for doing it alone, but this time there was another victim. His gaze turned guiltily to the boy… he looked like a boy that way. Sleeping as if he hadn't a care in the world, with his head lolled to the side, and just the faintest trail of saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth leaving a trail that was caught by the moonlight. Kamatari almost chuckled, but then lost his humor when he recalled how he got Aoshi into this mess in the first place.

Sighing, Kamatari dropped down beside Aoshi watching him sleep. He did the forbidden once more, and stroked the other boy's back… a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. He would be okay. Kamatari screwed up, but Aoshi was going to be okay.

Leaning back and resting on his side facing Aoshi, his fingertips flittered at the tips of his bangs and brushed them aside to look at his roommate and drink him in. This wouldn't happen again. Ever. Not if Kamatari had a breath in his body. If he hadn't found him, someone might've… or he might've… and then…

Kamatari shook his head, nuzzling his face into the bed. It smelled like him. It was warm like him. Aoshi radiated heat… but it could've been the liquor coursing through their veins causing the blood to circulate faster. But he was so warm… There was someone tender beneath that iron clad mask, Kamatari could feel it. He just could never reach it.

The sudden image of Aoshi with a horn on his head and a name tag that had "Kama-chan's Unicorn" in big bold letters popped into mind. Kamatari giggled softly, cupping his hand over his mouth. Aoshi sure looked silly with a horn on his head. But, he was… Kamatari could never have him. Could never be with him. He was there but out of reach… never meant to be truly possessed by anyone or anything. For the umpteenth time, he sighed, letting his eyes drift shut.

This would be the only and the last time he would be bold enough to do something like this. It was worth risking bodily harm, if just for this short time he could… Without realizing what he was doing, Kamatari slipped an arm around Aoshi's waist and curled his smaller form into his chest. Just this once.

The two boys, at the sweet ripe age of seventeen and a half, were entangled in slumber… both dreaming wistfully of a better place than here.

It was when Aoshi awoke, and saw the scene in front of him… the two were stripped, and Kamatari was mostly naked, himself, half naked, with a trashcan with used condoms in it (from Kamatari's past exploits)… and the odd taste in his mouth… he assumed the worst.

This is why he never drank.