Archive of Our Own

At 221B Baker Street, the party was well underway by mid-afternoon. Though it was nominally set to start at 6 o'clock, most of the guests lived in the building, so the party preparations and the celebration itself weren't distinctly divided. Iris and Susato had been cooking and baking all day, and had deputized Ryunosuke as a sort of half-useless scullery maid. With his hand still sore and bandaged, he could fetch ingredients, chop the softer vegetables, and mind a bubbling pot, but he was no good for kneading dough or washing dishes. Around 3 PM there was a great debate about seating, of which there was hardly enough for the five people already present, let alone more. The argument resulted in Mr. Sholmes, Professor Mikotoba, and Susato hauling an entire second sofa from the storage room downstairs into the sitting room. Ryunosuke felt a bit useless not helping with it, but Iris put on her doctor voice and told him no. For her part, Susato didn't seem to mind having to put some muscle into it while Ryunosuke stood around uselessly; she was more concerned about Mr. Sholmes scuffing the walls with his enthusiastic heaving.

At least Ryunosuke was able to put up crepe paper streamers, and to help Iris make the banner they then hung over the mantelpiece. It read "WELCOME HOME DADDYˢ!" and was decorated with lots of cute pink flowers and blue bunnies (courtesy of Iris) and poorly-drawn prawns and strawberries (Iris had said Ryunosuke could draw whatever he wanted, and Ryunosuke was getting kind of hungry, what with the smells of dinner cooking). At the last moment, Iris realized she was leaving out Professor Mikotoba and hurried to paint the little "S" at the end of the sign. It was supposedly a welcome home party for all five of them, but it was Mr. Sholmes and Professor Mikotoba who'd only gotten back to England two days ago, and the girls were especially thrilled about that.

Gina showed up early, looking to filch dessert before dinner even started, and had to be given a job to keep her out of trouble. Susato forced her to learn how to properly set a table. Well, 'properly' — the table was still a trunk. They pulled the tea cart against it in order to make a little more room and threw a big tablecloth over the whole lumpy thing.

At 6 o'clock sharp, there was a vigorous knocking at the door downstairs. Ryunosuke was arranging Iris's tiny flower-shaped salmon sandwiches on a dish and was afraid to step away, lest Susato catch him leaving the task undone and whip him with a wooden spoon, but he knew right away the knocking was Kazuma. Kazuma was probably the last guest they ought to expect, Ryunosuke thought. He'd issued an eighth invitation himself, but he'd been pretty sure it was fruitless even at the time.

So when he trotted out of the kitchen with the hurriedly-arranged appetizer platter, he nearly fumbled it in surprise at the sight of not one, but two crown prosecutors standing uncertainly at the entrance to the suite, next to Mikotoba, who'd seemingly been the one to go downstairs and bring them up.

"Lord van Zieks!" Ryunosuke squawked, setting the platter down on the 'table' and rushing over. "You came!"

"Does this suit blend into the wallpaper or something, partner?" Kazuma said dryly.

Ryunosuke rolled his eyes and reached over to tug Kazuma's bright red necktie. "You couldn't blend in if you tried. Thanks for coming, both of you." There was a question on the tip of Ryunosuke's tongue; if he hadn't really expected Barok to come, he certainly hadn't expected the two of them to arrive together.

"Oh, I made him," Kazuma said, shooting a sly look at Barok. "He'd have gone straight home to the loving arms of his wine cellar if not for me loading him into a cab."

Now that was something Ryunosuke really would've liked to see for himself. Just then, Susato appeared, hurriedly removing her apron. She bowed to the prosecutors. "Welcome!"

"Susato-san, you've got flour on your nose," Kazuma said.

"Oh!" Susato blushed and crossed her eyes, trying to dust off her nose, which had nothing on it that Ryunosuke could see.

"Mr. Barry!" called Iris. Ryunosuke stepped aside, making way for her; it wasn't as if he was managing to say anything to Barok anyway.

Barok looked surprised to be addressed directly by Iris. He took a few steps into the room to meet her. "Miss Wilson," he greeted, doffing his top hat and grazing the ceiling with it.

"Mr. Barry," Iris said, and her tone was just a bit dangerous. She'd developed a little temper in between when Ryunosuke left London and when she and Mr. Sholmes arrived in Tokyo last year. "You haven't come to see me at all since I've come back home. Why? I've been here for nearly a month."

Barok was slow to answer. "My sincere apologies. I ought to have come."

"Yes, you ought to have. We invited you."

Mr. Sholmes popped up beside them, flicking his poofy forelock and winking at Barok in a sort of greeting. "Now, Iris, remember our grim-faced friend was shot just the other week!"

"He's been well enough to see Runo," Iris said, turning to argue with Sholmes, "but not me!"

Barok and Ryunosuke had been doggedly working away at the Forensic Investigation Team restoration. Two days ago they'd spent the whole afternoon searching dilapidated boarding houses in Spitalfields, trying to track down Ina Specter; they still hadn't gotten a message to her successfully. But it wasn't as if they'd been meeting solely for business. Last week Ryunosuke had gone round to Barok's house for the sole purpose of having Barok wash his hair. Ryunosuke hung his head; he'd been monopolizing Barok's attention.

"I — I truly am terribly sorry," Barok said, one hand pressed to his chest. "Miss Wilson, had I known that it mattered so much to you, I would have come sooner."

"I haven't seen you in months and months! I've had all new shoes since I saw you!" Iris said indignantly, gesturing at her feet, which were adorned with a pair of brand new black and purple leather boots.

Barok's chin wobbled. For a moment it looked like he would begin to cry over Iris's shoe size increasing.

"Iris!" shouted Gina, loudly enough that even Kazuma startled. "Catch!" She came pelting across the room, brandishing some new and terrifying gun, and Ryunosuke scrambled for cover as it went off with a funny pop! crackle! A puff of pink smoke and firework-like sparkles exploded in Iris's face.

The anger on Iris's face sharpened into a sweet, evil smile. "You want to play, do you, Ginny? Oh, let's play!" She whipped out a matching gun from her rucksack and took aim. Gina whooped and fled in the direction of the stairs; there was a great chaos of thudding as Iris chased her up to the attic and then the whole way back down, past the suite door to the ground floor.

Kazuma and Sholmes both burst out laughing.

Barok took a staggering step toward Ryunosuke.

"I'm really sorry about that," Ryunosuke said, drawing Barok with him toward the crackling fire. "If I'd known she was angry, I would have told you about it. I'm afraid she's got more of a temper lately — she's at that age."

"She's right," Barok said unevenly. He still had his hat, cape, and cane, and he looked winded. "I hadn't considered...I truly didn't think...I owe her a proper personal visit."

Ryunosuke wanted to give him a kiss. He risked reaching up to touch Barok's pale cheek briefly. They hadn't discussed how open to be about that sort of thing among friends. "Thank you for coming. We're all glad to have you. Even Iris. Especially Iris."

Barok favored him with a tiny smile, a softening of the eyes mostly. Then, with an internal voice of Susato or perhaps his mother tutting at him about hospitality, Ryunosuke hurried to take Barok's outerwear and fetch him a glass of the sherry Sholmes had opened.

Except it turned out that someone had really jammed the stopper back into the bottle. When Ryunosuke tried to pull it out, the force caused the cut on his hand to throb. He hissed.

Kazuma's head appeared in the kitchen doorframe. "Struggling, are we?"

Scowling, Ryunosuke thrust the bottle at him. Kazuma cackled and took out the cork with little effort, filling three glasses and taking one himself.

"How was the hearing?" Ryunosuke asked, shaking out his smarting left hand.

"Oh, it went perfectly," Kazuma said. "We've got a trial date. Wednesday."

That was a relief. The crime scenes being so far from London had stymied the Angoori case. Getting charges pressed in the Old Bailey, rather than in the local county court, had taken some logistical maneuvering, but Kazuma was relentless. Ryunosuke just wanted it to be over. "Does Lord van Zieks know?"

"He was there." Kazuma took a sip and wrinkled his nose. "I still can't get used to European wine. I mean, it's fine."

"We have some beer for later," Ryunosuke told him.

"Good," Kazuma said. Then he clapped Ryunosuke hard on the arm. "I'm going to get him, you know. You don't have to worry about anything. You probably won't even have to testify — there's no way out for that bastard, I'll have a dozen other witnesses prepared. Everyone who was there knows he's guilty."

"I want to testify," Ryunosuke said.

Kazuma squinted at him. "You know what Angoori's lawyer is going to try to do to you if I put you on the stand."

To paint him as the villain, yes. As confident as Kazuma was, the facts of the case were that Ryunosuke had shot a man and come away with only minor injuries himself. "But they'll use Angoori's injury as a defence whether I speak or not. The other witnesses can support our story, but only Lord van Zieks and I were in that room."

Susato appeared, having overheard the conversation happening in the kitchen. "Surely you are going to prepare Naruhodo-san as a witness?"

"Not you, too," Kazuma said. "Neither of you thinks I can get a verdict for him? How sad."

"Oh, no; I'm sure you can, Kazuma-sama." Susato bowed her head to him politely. "But the defence is likely to push hard to bring him to the stand, and the judge may well issue a subpoena."

Kazuma propped his hip against the counter. "The defence can argue that Ryunosuke was the aggressor all they like without bringing him to the stand. They don't need him for that. If anything, they might think they have a better chance without having the jurors hear from Mr. Teary Eyes here."

"Mr. Teary Eyes?" Ryunosuke muttered incredulously.

Susato tapped her cheek in thought. "You may be right. Still, I think you ought to prepare him rigorously. If I were the defence attorney, and I found out that Naruhodo-san was a lawyer as well, I would see an opportunity too good to pass up."

"Opportunity? What do you mean?" Ryunosuke asked.

"They may try to bait you into litigating," Susato said. "You aren't the defendant, but if you aren't careful, you'll end up defending yourself as if you are. Then Kazuma-sama will have to object and talk over you — it won't look good at all. If you're called, you'll need to stay calm, stick to only what you personally witnessed, and let Kazuma-sama handle the evidence, no matter what you're asked."

Ryunosuke gulped. Staying quiet, not bringing up evidence or making arguments? When he'd trained so hard to make himself do the reverse? "Oh dear."

Kazuma was regarding Susato with his eyebrows raised. "All the more reason to keep him off the stand. But it can't hurt to prepare him, in case we don't have a choice. I don't suppose you'd help me with that, since you've got the unscrupulous tactic all figured out?"

Susato turned to take a pot off of the stove. "It was only a thought; I'm not sure I have anything figured out, but if I can be of any assistance, certainly..."

Ryunosuke slipped out of the kitchen with the two filled glasses.

By the mantel, Sholmes and Mikotoba seemed to be having a mutually entertaining argument about the bust of Napoleon that always sat there amongst the case memorabilia. Barok was sitting at the very end of the spare sofa, leaning back with his arms crossed and his eyes closed, with Wagahai sprawled inelegantly across his lap. When Ryunosuke's tread caused the floorboards to creak nearby, he cracked one eye open. "Ah. Thank you." He accepted a glass of sherry.

Ryunosuke sat beside him and turned his own glass in his hands. He'd said he wanted to testify, and he truly did. It was important that he tell the truth, exactly as it happened, in front of the judge and jury. Kazuma reading from his written statement wasn't the same. But that gut feeling he had about what justice should look like...maybe it wasn't pragmatic. He wasn't as emotional about the murder attempts now that he'd had to repeat everything several times to detectives, police officers, and Kazuma, whose very presence was bracing, but a lawyer with a mind as sharp as Susato's and fewer scruples could probably upset him without much trouble. It would be hard not to argue with someone who was twisting the truth.

"Were the three of you arguing?"

Barok's question startled Ryunosuke out of his brooding. Of course, if Barok had overheard anything, it had all been in Japanese, and now Ryunosuke looked sulky. "No, no. Not arguing. Just discussing the Angoori case. Discussing, er, whether I ought to testify."

"And what do you think?" Barok asked. He sipped from his glass and made a face very like the one Kazuma had made upon tasting the sherry.

"I want to speak," Ryunosuke said, "but I'm afraid I'll get flustered by the defence and I'll hurt my own case. Miss Susato thinks the defence will push for me to be called for that reason."

Barok thought about this. "Mr. Asogi and I agreed that it would be preferable if you didn't need to take the stand, but Miss Mikotoba's point is well-taken."

Mr. Sholmes's entire upper body came flopping over the back of the sofa between them. Ryunosuke squawked; Wagahai went shooting off across the room; Barok hissed and barely avoided spilling his drink. "The best offense is a good offense, that's what I always say!" said Sholmes.

"What — what does that even mean?" Ryunosuke asked.

"Don't wait for the opposing counsel to wind up an argument against you. Put both of your star witnesses — " Sholmes bopped the top of Ryunosuke's and Barok's heads simultaneously, provoking more startled sounds — "on the stand first thing. And call them together."

Kazuma was approaching with a covered serving tray. "Wow, everyone's got an opinion tonight," he said, setting the tray on the chest and then heroically pushing Sholmes off of the backrest of the sofa by the face. "Actually, Susato and I were just coming to the same conclusion. Arguing against calling you as a witness might make us look bad from the outset."

"And staging both Mr. Naruhodo and Lord van Zieks at the stand together ought to...well, to keep Mr. Naruhodo a bit more imperturbable," said Susato, placing down a serving bowl.

"That may be stretching the advantage beyond capacity," Barok disagreed, gazing off across the room, half-aloof. "My presence is hardly noted to have a calming effect."

"No, they're right," Ryunosuke said. Barok turned and looked at him at that. Ryunosuke's voice got smaller. "I'd feel better if you were there."

This comment was lost under a chorus of enthusiastic sounds as Susato and Mr. Sholmes took the covers off of the two big serving trays, revealing the main dishes. One platter held a roast leg of lamb: steaming, golden-brown, and encrusted with herbs. The other held nitsuke-style simmered cod. Ryunosuke knew that recipe had involved a bit of improvisation, but fresh cod and ginger were available in London and Susato had brought some of the other necessary seasonings from Japan. They'd blanched some kind of English greens alongside it, and it looked and smelled really good. Ryunosuke's mouth began watering. There were stewed carrots and turnips as well, and fluffy Japanese rice, and green salad, and fresh bread and butter.

Admittedly, everything was a fog to Ryunosuke for a while after that.

He came to whilst Iris was kindly serving seconds of the lamb and rice onto his plate. Professor Mikotoba, Mr. Sholmes, and Susato were doing most of the talking just then, telling a story from one of their cases in Japan. Ryunosuke was warm and content and his belly was full, but not so full he needed to stop nibbling yet. Barok sat on one side of him, his plate pushed away and his eyes closed again. Kazuma sat on Ryunosuke's other side. Ryunosuke was wedged into the center of the couch pretty tightly. It struck him, as he spooned a bite of gravy-soaked rice into his mouth, how perfectly happy he was. He'd thought he'd never be together with everyone again like this. And he'd missed Kazuma and Barok so badly for so long that it had become a constant. Now he was trapped between the two surly, muscular prosecutors, and some part of him that had been scared for years just...let go. He felt safe. They were both right here; he didn't have to worry about them.

Kazuma was putting everything into the court case, like he had something to prove. Ryunosuke wished Kazuma knew that he didn't. That his just being here with everyone was enough. But if winning this case would give Kazuma the sense of, of whatever it was, purpose or worth or heroism that he needed...Ryunosuke could almost be glad someone tried to kill him.

Still chewing, he elbowed Kazuma lightly. Kazuma gave him an odd look, then smiled and cuffed him on the back of the head.

When Ryunosuke and Gina were the only ones left eating third or fourth helpings, a bit of casual gift exchange ensued. Gifts from Japan had already been doled out in dribs and drabs over the past weeks; Ryunosuke and Susato had foisted a bunch of non-perishable Japanese foods onto Kazuma right there on the pier at Dover. Still, when Iris brought out the jars of Japanese tea she'd bought for the England contingent, it set off a chain reaction.

Susato gave Gina an elegant hair stick with two dangly strands of sparkly ginkgo leaves, and helped her put it into her hair right away. Professor Mikotoba had a pair of gold Asogi crest cufflinks for Kazuma. Kazuma accepted them with stoic gratitude and just a hint of a tremble in his voice. Mr. Sholmes gifted Gina a little Japanese dagger. Needless to say, Gina loved it, but when Sholmes started teaching her knife tricks, Professor Mikotoba hauled him to his feet and insisted he help clear the empty dishes from the table. Gina turned to Kazuma with her dagger instead, and they immediately got to bickering over how useful it would be in a fight.

"Mr. Barry?" Iris had approached the end of the couch, looking uncharacteristically hesitant, with her hands behind her back and her eyes downcast. She had been on the other sofa with Susato and Sholmes through the meal, and Barok didn't speak much in a big group like that. Their unaddressed tiff from earlier must have still been playing on Iris's mind.

Barok's head turned toward her slowly, as if he wasn't sure he was the one being spoken to. "Yes?"

"I, um," said Iris, and Ryunosuke was sure she was about to say, 'I'm sorry,' but she didn't. "I picked out something special for you in Japan. I'd like you to have it now." She brought out from behind her back a package the size of a small shoebox wrapped in a furoshiki. The cloth was a dark black-blue with a dramatic pattern of red blossoms that suited Barok rather well.

Ryunosuke couldn't see Barok's face, only Iris's hopeful expression as he took the box from her and settled it in his lap. Iris folded her hands behind her back again and rolled up onto the balls of her feet.

"Shall I open it now?" Barok asked.

"Oh, yes, if you please!"

Barok untied the furoshiki with great care for the fabric, revealing a simple wooden box. He slid open the lid. The contents were well-wrapped in pretty red paper to protect them — they had had a long journey from Japan — but Ryunosuke remembered what they were before Barok managed to unwrap one and hold it up. It was a gorgeous ceramic sake cup, pitch-black and velvet-smooth on the outside, glazed a brilliant vermilion on the inside, with a geometric pattern in gold circling the inner rim. Barok admired it with a soft frown on his face, his lips parted, turning it this way and that in the light.

"It's for drinking Japanese rice wine, but I thought you could have any kind of wine out of it. Or tea! It's a set of four, so you don't have to get them all out now. Try not to throw them, alright?" Iris nattered, sounding much more herself.

Barok's brow softened. "Thank you, Miss Wilson," he said in a low voice. "What an exceptionally beautiful gift. I assure you, I will keep them safely away from the Old Bailey. In fact, I shall treasure them with utmost care."

Iris giggled, pressing her hands to her pinkening cheeks, and shuffled her foot bashfully on the floor. "Oh, I'm so glad you like them!"

Lowering the cup to his lap, Barok looked down at the open box, emotion moving subtly across his face. "I must apologize," he started.

"Oh, no, no," Iris said, patting his shoulder quellingly, careful to avoid his bullet graze. "As long as you like the cups! Kazza, help me bring in the pudding, please?"

And with that, the party moved right along to dessert. Ryunosuke had been banished from participating in its preparation, so he was as surprised as anyone, and probably more excited than anyone, when a treacle sponge appeared, along with a dish of special ice cream dreamed up by Susato, who had blended some of the matcha powder she brought from Japan with it in a fit of unbridled cultural exchange. It seemed unlikely that the bitter tea would taste anything but strange with sweetened cream, but on the contrary, it was the best use of matcha that Ryunosuke had ever tasted in his life.

As he finagled himself another helping of gooey, wonderful treacle sponge, Gina kicked off a fit of recreational pickpocketing by taking a handkerchief out of Susato's sleeve unnoticed and then bragging about it. Rather than retaliate, Susato got up and stood between her father and Kazuma and struck up a conversation, then asked them to guess whose pocket she'd picked. Of course, they each swore it wasn't them, until Susato revealed she had Kazuma's wallet with a twinkle. Affronted, Kazuma challenged her to a bout over it, which Mikotoba attempted to forbid only for half a sentence before Sholmes interceded on their behalf, and suddenly there was an alarming amount of shouting and thudding happening right behind where Ryunosuke was sat on the couch, with Iris, Gina, and Sholmes loudly cheering from the other sofa, and Mikotoba looking on with mingled affection and concern.

"Who's winning?" Ryunosuke hissed to the professor, afraid to look.

Mikotoba's moustache wobbled. "She had him there for a moment, but he's back up. Watch the typewriter, if you please," he added, raising his voice to be heard by the combatants.

There was a sudden, big movement at Ryunosuke's other side, and he flinched, briefly afraid Susato had hurled Kazuma over the couch at him, but it was Barok, who'd stood in a rush. He'd been sitting so quietly that Ryunosuke had begun to take his presence for granted. Without making an excuse or looking back, Barok made a direct path for the kitchen, not excessively hurried but without hesitation.

Ryunosuke stared after him in confusion. Across the way, only Sholmes had taken note. He met Ryunosuke's eye knowingly.

Unsure of what it was Sholmes knew, and all the more concerned because of it, Ryunosuke rose and followed. As he closed the kitchen door, he heard Gina say, "Where in the blazes are they goin'? Scroungin' for more o' the plonk already?"

Barok was leaning over the counter with one hand braced on it and the other pressed to his face. He was very still. A towering stack of dirty dishes loomed beside him.

"Lord van Zieks?" said Ryunosuke.

"Just a sudden headache." Barok pressed gloved fingertips into his eye sockets wearily. "It may be for the best if I betake my sorry self home for the night. I shouldn't like to hinder the festivities."

Emboldened by the fairly talkative response, Ryunosuke approached Barok and set a hand on the small of his back. "It can get rather loud when everyone is together like this."

"Mm," Barok agreed vaguely.

"I wouldn't like to send you home looking so ill. Would you like to come upstairs where it's quiet and rest for a little while?"

Barok straightened, assuming his usual elegant and towering posture. "You would be distracted from the party if I stay."

"It's gotten a bit much for me, too," Ryunosuke countered. "I'd like a break." He could see Barok dithering. "If we go through that door we can get up the stairs without going back through the sitting room."

Barok sniffed. "Very well." He picked up the wooden box containing Iris's sake cups — Ryunosuke hadn't seen it there, but Barok seemed determined to hang onto it — and opened the kitchen's side door, gesturing politely for Ryunosuke to lead the way.

"Watch your head," Ryunosuke warned on the way up the attic stairs. He'd hit his own head on the ceiling there multiple times, and Barok was in considerably more danger.

Barok merely stooped slightly as he surfaced into the legal consultancy. Cradling the box to his chest, he peered about. "Is this your office?" he asked dubiously.

"Erm," Ryunosuke said, "yes, well, I know it's not much to look at. Clients never really meet me in the consultancy, so, um." He cleared his throat. The only places to sit in the law office were at the two desks or on the floor. "Come through here, please." He headed for the doorway toward the bedrooms.

Straight through was the ever-closed door of Susato's room. To the left was a folding screen dividing off the space between Susato's bedroom wall and the office wall, a gap which ran right to the exterior wall and featured a small window at the end. Against the wall beneath the window, with its length only just fitting into the width of the nook, was Ryunosuke's sorrily unmade bed. Its shabby blue quilt flopped halfway onto the floor beside the apple crate turned on its side that served for Ryunosuke's nightstand. A used coffee cup and a half-burned candle occupied the nightstand, along with Ryunosuke's sensation novel of the moment. Happily, Ryunosuke's clothing was all neatly folded and stacked, and his two suit jackets hung from the back of the folding screen on wire coat hangers. The dusk light of the long spring evening still lit Ryunosuke's room through the window.

Barok squeezed through the gap between the screen and the wall and stood frozen, blank-faced. He took up a non-negligible amount of the open space between the bed and the screen. Probably sixty percent of it.

Ryunosuke knew his bedroom wasn't much, but the presence of a peer of the British Empire behind his folding screen made the space suddenly look so profoundly shabby and cobbled-together that he was embarrassed to have brought Barok in. He scratched his nose. "Erm, there are only two proper rooms up here, and since the big one is the office, Susato-san ought to have the small one," he explained, while flopping his bedding into some semblance of order. He tossed the crocheted yellow-and-white afghan over everything, which made it all look a bit more intentional.

When he finished his frantic tidying, Barok still hadn't said a word. No sardonic remark? Barok had his hand pressed to his mouth and his eyes squeezed shut. Alarming. "Are you going to be sick?" Ryunosuke asked. If Mr. Sholmes had put something into Barok's food, Ryunosuke was going to be very cross with him.

Barok shook his head. "No. No, just quite a world-class headache," he said in a gravelly voice, through his fingers.

"Will it help to lie down?" Another frozen hesitation. "I know it's a little cramped here for you, but you can even take a nap if you like," Ryunosuke offered.

Barok's frown deepened, but he nodded and allowed Ryunosuke to set the box with Iris's gift safely under the bed. He shucked his gloves, and then his coat, which Ryunosuke took and hung over top of one of his own jackets, lacking a spare hanger. Then Barok sat at the edge of the bed and shakily went through the procedure of opening buckles and laces and wrangling off his boots. He lay back onto Ryunosuke's lumpy pillow bonelessly, almost in a swoon, and dragged his long legs up under the covers as an afterthought, curling onto his side facing the wall.

Pity welled up in Ryunosuke's eyes as he pulled the layers of his blankets up around Barok, tucking him in fretfully. Barok was so unresponsive he looked already asleep, but his fist was pressed to his forehead with too much force for that to be the case. Maybe Ryunosuke should have encouraged Barok to undress more — perhaps set him up to just stay the night exactly where he was — but it was too late for that and Ryunosuke couldn't bear to bother him now that he was lying down. Would Barok prefer to be comforted or left entirely alone? Ryunosuke couldn't resist running a gentle hand over his hair. "Can I do anything to help?" he whispered. Another pause, as if responding at all was a struggle, and then Barok shook his head. Ryunosuke wet his lips. "I'll come and check on you later. I won't let anyone disturb you."

Barok's hand lifted from his own face to Ryunosuke's wrist. "Thank you," he murmured raggedly.

Ryunosuke's heart ached. He hunched to press an awkwardly-angled kiss to Barok's fingers. "Try to sleep, okay?" He took Barok's hand and tucked it in under the blankets, patted it once, and wrenched himself away, taking the morning's coffee cup along. He spared a glance at his watch as he stepped out into the office. It had just gone 8 PM. Ryunosuke promised himself not to bother Barok again until at least half past. He was starting to feel pretty guilty for making Barok feel obligated to come tonight when parties of any sort were apparently an assault upon his constitution.

Barok drifted. Noise from the floor below: conversation, raucous laughter, bangs and clatters, strains of violin. Through the window, between faded gingham curtains, the outline of the buildings on the other side of Baker Street against the gloaming sky. As the sky got darker, more of the windows became filled with light.

He was in Ryunosuke's bed, with his nose pressed to Ryunosuke's pillow and a worn-soft cotton sheet pulled up against his chin. In a few minutes he suspected he would be embarrassed about how he ended up here, but for now, he felt too comfortable to move. Moving would break the moment. He didn't want to face...anything. Not when the pillow smelled like Ryunosuke's hair and nobody expected anything of him. If he didn't move a muscle, his head didn't throb.

The sill of the window, he noticed, ran beyond the window itself, the whole way along the wall, forming a narrow wooden ledge just above the bed. The ledge was covered with bric-a-brac. Two tiny blue glass bottles. A candlestick shaped like a stoat. A figure of a spotted cat with its paw raised. An enameled pillbox. A horn comb with a few teeth missing — that might just be Ryunosuke's everyday comb, come to think of it. A pair of small red fabric tags, each with Nipponese characters embroidered on them and an intricately knotted string at the top: Barok recognized them as good luck charms. A gold bell of the sort usually fixed to a horse's harness. A worn wooden toy soldier in English uniform, missing one leg.

Then there was a collection of tiny carved creatures, mostly made of wood or ivory, peculiarly Nipponese in design, and each with a pair of holes drilled through it, like some sort of odd button. None was taller than Barok's thumb. There were all sorts: a koi fish, a fat mouse eating a seed, a little seated man wearing a frankly alarming demonic mask, a leaping rabbit with long flowing ears, a bat with its wings wrapped around itself (propped upside-down on the sill), a beautifully detailed camellia bloom. And what was that one? Another rabbit, Barok thought at first, but its upright ears came to a sharp point and were not so very long. It was white, with puffy fur, sitting on its haunches and gazing slightly upward and away, with a single shiny black eye visible from this side. Rising off of the pillow and reaching over his head for it, Barok carefully took it down and brought it into the nest of blankets with himself, turning it over in his hands. It was sculpted ceramic rather than carved, which was why its details seemed less sharp than the others. Its snout was pointed. Was it perhaps a fox? On its rump it had a sweet fluffy tail too short for a fox.

Barok held the little animal to his chest under the covers and drifted.

Ryunosuke ascended the attic stairs slowly, holding one of Iris's dainty white teacups with little hearts around the rim. The tea smelled floral and was steaming merrily; the color of the brew was curiously blue. Ryunosuke had stood back and watched Iris blend the dried herbs together from her cute pink bottles, but he couldn't say what she'd used.

Having reached the top of the stairs without a spill, he paused to listen. The office was dark, with the street lamps of Baker Street casting a diffuse glow through the window and across the furniture. The only sounds came from the floor below.

He'd told everyone that Barok was indisposed. He wasn't even quite sure what that meant, indisposed. He must have picked it up from novels — descriptions of upper-class ladies with nebulous nervous ailments. But it fit, because he wasn't quite sure what he was going to find.

"Barok?" he called quietly as he approached the folding screen. There was no response, and he stood holding the teacup and saucer, wondering what to do. If Barok was asleep, he wouldn't wake him up, he decided. He would leave the tea and let Barok sleep in his bed for as long as he liked. If anyone caught on and decided to tease Ryunosuke about it, well, that was just what they did.

Resolved, he stepped around the screen. Barok was an inert mass under the blue quilt. His shoulder rose and fell with his breath. Ryunosuke gingerly set the cup and saucer on the apple crate, then took up a matchbook to light the candle. Just to get a better look at Barok. Then he'd leave him alone.

The sounds of fabric rustling overlapped with the striking of the match. Barok had turned onto his back, the blankets still pulled up to his chin. He was blinking slowly, unfocused. "Oh, you're awake," Ryunosuke murmured. He'd truly thought otherwise; he hoped his disturbance hadn't woken Barok. "Are you feeling any better?" Barok nodded sleepily against the pillow. His hair was well out of its coiffure, lavender curls sticking up. His forehead pinched into a hint of its usual frown, but he was otherwise quiet and expressionless. Better, maybe, but not himself yet. "I brought you a cup of tea. Iris says it will help. If, if you're up to sitting up and drinking it."

With a deep sigh, Barok pushed himself up and leaned against the wall at the head of the bed, stretching his legs out. Ryunosuke perched by Barok's legs and reached for the teacup, placing it into Barok's hands. Barok took it and drank, docile, eyes closing as he took in the fragrance.

When he finished and handed the cup back, Ryunosuke heard something in his hand click against the porcelain. Barok's hand curled up around whatever it was before Ryunosuke could catch a glimpse. Curious! "What have you got there?" he asked.

Barok opened his hand, his face turned aside almost sheepishly. "What is it?" he asked.

Ryunosuke was so surprised to hear Barok finally speak that it took him a moment to look at what Barok was holding. "Oh, it's a netsuke." What a cute thing for Barok to have taken down from the shelf. "It goes on the ends of the strings of a little case, or purse, called an inro. You tuck the strings of the inro under your obi — the waist sash of a kimono — and the netsuke sits on top of the obi to keep the inro from falling." Was he overwhelming Barok with Japanese words? Barok looked so groggy. "Does that make sense?" he tacked on.

Barok hummed in assent, running the tip of his finger over the holes for the strings. "But I meant to ask what sort of animal this one is."

"Ah." A very good question. Ryunosuke reached over to stroke its smooth white head with the pad of his finger. "I don't really know. It seems a little bit confused about being a fox or a bunny. Not to mention, ceramic isn't such a good material for a netsuke, if you were really going to wear it — it's too fragile." Ryunosuke glanced at Barok's face and smiled at his thoughtful expression. "I liked it right away when I saw it in a secondhand shop. I can see why someone got rid of it, but I had to have it."

Barok closed his fingers around the animal again, lowering it into his lap. "Too fragile," he muttered.

"Do you like it? If you like it, you can have it," Ryunosuke offered. Barok was so quiet, so subdued, and Ryunosuke felt like offering him anything at all that he fancied, anything that might please him for a moment.

"You would give it away so easily?" Barok asked, frowning.

"Well, no, only to you," Ryunosuke said. That had come out rather honest; Ryunosuke lowered his eyes, his hand sneaking across the quilt to cover Barok's closed fist. "You'll take good care of it."

Barok seemed to be thinking it over, but a moment later, he turned his hand and pressed the netsuke into Ryunosuke's palm.

It was a little disappointing. Ryunosuke tried not to feel let down. It wasn't as if he didn't love his fox-bunny, but he had a whole collection, and thinking of Barok coveting the cutest creature from his trinket shelf had been rather nice... He peeked at Barok's face and found it all scrunched up. He was doing very badly at getting Barok to talk, and just as badly at making him feel better.

The fox-bunny would not give up so quickly. No. The fox-bunny still had ways of cheering up a big, grumpy prosecutor who kept all his feelings stuffed inside his head where they could give him headaches.

With the creature held between his thumb and forefinger, Ryunosuke set its paws decisively on the back of Barok's wrist. Barok stilled. The fox-bunny hopped up to Barok's forearm, then his elbow, then his upper arm, in little sequences of three. Hop-hop-hop. Hop-hop-hop. Barok had craned his head to watch its brave ascent, his mouth drawn into a little moue of confusion, his neck comically scrunched so as to give him three or four extra chins. But he held very still as if to avoid scaring it away. Hop-hop-hop, onto the peak of Barok's shoulder, and then, with a single big leap, it bumped its snout gently into Barok's pale cheek in a noisy kiss. Ryunosuke provided the noise. Barok's expression wobbled with shock, and Ryunosuke broke into a fit of giggles.

"What was that for?" Barok asked, voice taut. He was blushing in the candlelight.

Ryunosuke shuffled his toe on the floor, feeling shy mainly because Barok was shy. "For you being adorable," he mumbled.

Barok only made a sharp sniff in response. Ryunosuke found him looking away, toward the window, his ear red amongst his tousled curls, but he reached out his hand toward Ryunosuke, and Ryunosuke took hold of it, pressing their palms together with the netsuke trapped between them. Barok's fingers were cold. Ryunosuke rubbed them.

A loud clang, as of something being dropped, sounded from the room below, followed by a burst of laughter. Barok flinched. Ryunosuke felt it in the twitch of his hand.

Maybe Barok would feel able to tell him now. "Was it...only too loud for you, down there?"

Barok swallowed audibly. "I am not accustomed to that sort of chaos."

Still not wanting to talk, then. That was alright. "No, I understand, it did get chaotic with everyone drinking," Ryunosuke said, stroking Barok's thumb with his.

Suddenly, Barok shifted down in the bed. Ryunosuke was decidedly in the way of Barok being able to move at all, so he half-rose and hovered. "Shall I, erm — did you want to — "

"Please stay," Barok said, easing down to lie on his side and pressing himself back against the wall. He folded a polite triangle of the blankets back, like an invitation.

Ryunosuke looked doubtfully at the open sliver of bed. "Do, do you think I can fit?" Barok could barely fit in there alone. Ryunosuke would have to crowd him.

"You are rather small," Barok said meaningfully.

Well, if he wanted to be crowded... Ryunosuke shuffled out of his shoes hurriedly and started crawling in. Immediately, the edge of the mattress gave way and he yelped as his weight slid back; Barok caught him in arms like steel beams and held him fast. Ryunosuke wriggled toward a more stable position, knocking Barok in the tummy with his knee as he did so. Barok grunted. "Sorry!" Ryunosuke squeaked. This was not going to work unless... Ryunosuke threw both of his legs over Barok's, so that the crook of his knees settled over Barok's stacked thighs, and Barok used his firm hold on Ryunosuke to pull him against his chest. Barok winced as Ryunosuke's weight pressed his wounded arm into the bed, then rolled partially onto his back, so that Ryunosuke's weight was off of his arm but partly on his chest.

"Is this okay?" Ryunosuke fretted. "Your ribs — aren't they still sore?"

"Not much. This isn't painful," Barok assured him, tucking the blankets over him.

It troubled Ryunosuke — Barok could lie about that sort of thing — but the sound of his voice was calm, even a little dreamy, and his big hand was stroking up the length of Ryunosuke's back, separated from his skin by only Ryunosuke's shirt. This was a lot of body contact, and it was warm under the covers. Barok smelled good this close. He always smelled good. His fingers felt softly around the edge of Ryunosuke's shoulder blade, as if examining him. His eyes were closed, his lips still flushed a deeper pink than usual from the heat of the tea.

Ryunosuke leaned up and kissed his lips softly. His breath was laced with the scent of lavender. He kissed him again, Barok's mouth moving a sleepy fraction below his, then pressed a kiss to Barok's cool cheek. He still seemed chilled somehow. Worried, Ryunosuke cupped Barok's face, holding it close to his as he settled on the corner of the pillow.

Barok's eyes blinked open, too close to see anything clearly, murky in the shadow of the candlelight. His lips parted, but he didn't speak. His fingers pressed into Ryunosuke's back.

Sweet Barok. So sweet, so gentle, nobody else would believe it. Something was all crumpled up in that head of his. Ryunosuke let his fingers stray over the curve of Barok's ear, into his hair. "You can say anything to me," Ryunosuke told him, and meant it. Whatever Barok had to say was alright, as long as it was Ryunosuke he told. "You can tell me. I won't be angry, or think it's silly, or...anything. I'll listen to you."

"I find it difficult to explain," Barok murmured.

"Just try. Slowly," Ryunosuke pleaded.

"It was a lot of excitement, and it gave me a headache," Barok insisted, and Ryunosuke let a breath out, but Barok kept talking, his voice dropping into a whisper, "because I'm not used to being around a family such as this. But I would have been. I would have been, if...if my brother and sister-in-law had lived. The house would have been filled with their chaos, plus the noise caused by young Iris, and by her siblings — " Barok's breath caught and he stopped short.

Siblings. Ryunosuke had never even thought of that. He inched back so he could see Barok's face a little more. "I'm so sorry, Barok. I'm sorry both of you lost what you could have had."

Barok shook his head, sniffing stoically. "Her family is wonderful. Loving. I am ever grateful that she has not lacked for love. You have a wonderful family, Ryunosuke."

Ryunosuke took Barok's earlobe between his fingers and gave it a little squeeze. "And you..."

Barok's eyes slipped away from Ryunosuke's gaze. "I am not a part of this."

"Of course you are!" Ryunosuke said, probably pinching Barok's ear a little too hard in his vehemence.

"I no longer know how to be. I am not someone who can be a member of a family — just look at me. I lack the capacity."

"Barok, that's not true." Oh, did Ryunosuke ever rue issuing the invitation. He wanted to see Barok all the time, but that didn't mean Barok had to subject himself to every single event. "You can come by and visit when things are quieter. You can spend time with everyone, just...not all at once. If that suits you more. Everyone wants to include you but just because you don't enjoy this specific type of — "

"I can't," Barok interrupted, a little louder. "I cannot do this. I can't."

Tears were welling up in Ryunosuke's eyes. What was it he couldn't do, exactly? Ryunosuke hung onto Barok's waistcoat, frightened to ask.

"It was such a near thing." Barok cupped Ryunosuke's left hand, bringing it to his lips, brushing a kiss against the bandages. "So near to losing you. If I have to feel that way about each one of them, I..." Then Barok's hand went to his face, hiding him from Ryunosuke. "I can't stand to lose another family," he said brokenly.

"Oh, Barok—oh, that's..." There was no argument to make. If Ryunosuke tried to promise that Barok would never lose any of them, Barok would scoff in his face. Ryunosuke pulled himself flush against Barok again and pressed kisses to his hair and his forehead, feeling Barok's breath hitch against his chest. "It must be so frightening for you."

With a tiny wordless sound, Barok pulled Ryunosuke further on top of himself, tucking his face into Ryunosuke's shoulder. Ryunosuke huddled over him protectively. "I'm sorry, I wish I could promise," Ryunosuke started, but Barok was shaking his head slightly, tautly. "It's okay to cry," Ryunosuke said instead, and the permission seemed to release a shuddering, voiceless sob from within Barok, so Ryunosuke just stayed there, right where he was, petting Barok's head with his injured hand, letting Barok smother his crying against Ryunosuke's shirt as forcefully as he wanted.

It didn't take long for Barok's breathing to calm and his grip on Ryunosuke to relax. Ryunosuke lifted off of him carefully, propping himself over Barok on his forearms. The candlelight flickered across Barok's damp, blotchy face, his pinched brow, his tight mouth as he tried to master himself, and Ryunosuke pressed a fervent kiss to Barok's scar at the sight, wiping at Barok's cheeks with his shirt cuffs. "Barok, look at me, look at me," he begged, and Barok reluctantly made eye contact, looking vulnerable, almost wounded. "I'm here," Ryunosuke whispered fiercely. "Do you see me?" Barok snuffled, bit his lip, nodded. "You're here, you're safe. I'm safe. Everyone down there is safe — apart from whatever recreational violence they're visiting upon one another — " Barok rewarded that with a soggy huff — "and I have you right now. The past is sad and the future is scary but right now — right now's alright. Right?" Ryunosuke heard his own voice wobble on the question and cursed himself; he meant to be steady.

But it seemed to work nonetheless. Barok's eyes shut for a moment, he drew a slow breath, and he nodded again, his hand caressing the back of Ryunosuke's neck. "You're right," he acknowledged hoarsely.

Ryunosuke smiled, stroking Barok's cheeks with his thumbs. "I'm glad you're here right now." Here, now, at least for a moment, where Ryunosuke could reach him, instead of locked inside his own dark past. "Is your head still hurting?"

"Not nearly so much." Barok's hand lifted from Ryunosuke's neck, leaving it cold. "Pray forgive the discourtesy of...subjecting you to that loss of nerve. My frivolous tantrum has ruined your evening, I fear."

"Stop that," Ryunosuke said tartly, dipping down to kiss Barok's nose. "That was no sort of tantrum. I wish you'd throw an actual tantrum, it might be good for you."

"Nonsense statement," Barok groused, sounding more like himself. "You ought to be enjoying the festivities with the others."

"I could still be down there losing at cards because I'm the only one not cheating, like I was a quarter of an hour ago," Ryunosuke said, "or I could be here, in bed with a beautiful man. Hmm, let me think."

Barok's eyes widened briefly, and then his cheeks colored and he turned his face away, muttering, "Hardly the way you'd like to be in bed with..." He coughed and stopped talking.

Ryunosuke chortled, biting his tongue and eyeing the cords of Barok's long, pale neck. There were a few other things he'd like to do in bed with Barok. More than a few. But, well, this bed had neither the space nor the privacy...

Blood rushing to his face, Ryunosuke rolled out of bed and stood up sharply. "Well! I! Um!" Barok was startled, holding the quilt to his chin. Ryunosuke slapped his cheeks. Don't make it weird, Naruhodo! "I did want to, erm, that is — I have a little something that might cheer you up. I mean, I brought you something...a present from Japan. It's not much, but — " And he'd been meaning to give it to Barok weeks ago when he invited him for tea, and then Barok didn't come, and Ryunosuke decided he'd been silly and stupid to bring something the whole way from Tokyo that Barok probably wouldn't even like, and he'd shoved it deep under the bed, and now he was on his hands and knees underneath the bed searching for it behind the basket he kept his underwear in and a shocking number of fur-coated cat toys that Wagahai had apparently been hiding there. Aha, there it was. He crawled out. The box was oblong, not too big, but heavy, and wrapped in plain brown paper with the corners all torn up from travel. It looked...well, he would have re-wrapped it if he'd thought ahead.

Barok was sitting at the edge of the bed, looking down at Ryunosuke quizzically, with his hair somehow back in perfect order already and his eyes swollen from crying. Wasn't he too chilly to be out of the covers like that? Ryunosuke thrust the box into Barok's hands, swept the crocheted afghan around Barok's shoulders, and sat back on his heels on the hardwood, feeling small and silly.

Barok turned the box over on his lap. Cat hair drifted off of it. "You...brought this for me?"

Ryunosuke nodded, tapping his fingertips together. "I didn't realize Iris had gotten you those cups until later. It just sort of, well. Open it?"

Barok untied the twine as carefully as if it had been pretty satin ribbon and unwrapped the worn brown paper without tearing it any further. The presentation was rather better then: a shiny blue cardboard box with a certain brewer's family crest stamped on it in gold. Upon lifting the lid, there were two patterned gold silk furoshiki to unwind from around a pair of large glass sake bottles. Their labels bore the name of the brewery in large gold calligraphy, followed by another family crest and an icon of a gold medal and a whole slew of other information: "Premium Refined Sake, Fushimi, Kyoto, Award-Winning," and so on, all arranged very prettily in the blue 'sky' above a woodblock print-style image of wild ocean waves.

Barok took one bottle out and ran his fingers over the label appreciatively, then held it up with a faint sloshing sound. "Rice wine?"

Ryunosuke slapped himself on the forehead. Very pretty labels, which Barok couldn't read! "Yes! Here, let me..." He crawled over next to Barok's legs and translated the label for him, idly tucking the trailing ends of the blanket over Barok's thigh. "They don't sell this grade in Tokyo yet," Ryunosuke told him, "but the newspapers were all saying how fine it is, after it won some national competition, so when we took a little trip to Kyoto, I picked these up. Erm, I suppose it might not be to your taste, anyway, but there are all these new brewing techniques for sake, and..."

"I'm most curious to sample it," Barok said. "A rare opportunity; I may well be the first Englishman to do so. A poor connoisseur I would be, were I unable to appreciate the finest brew of your homeland due to a narrowly-developed palate for red wine. No, this is a treasure, Ryunosuke. I thank you."

Ryunosuke melted sideways against the bed, laying his hot face against the quilt. "Oh. Good."

"I do hope you didn't go to too great an expense in acquiring these for me," Barok said questioningly.

Two bottles had cleared Ryunosuke out of his entire representation fee for one court case, but the fact that he'd blown that much money trying to impress Barok was far, far too embarrassing, and he hoped Barok never had the means of finding out. Susato had tried to convince him to just buy one bottle, but he'd been afraid that one might not make it back to England intact, so he felt he needed a spare. It was a good thing nobody ever expected him to pay rent. "It's...it's not polite to ask how much a gift cost?" Ryunosuke tried.

"Quite right," Barok allowed. Then he peeled the shiny gold paper seal off of the stopper.

"Wait! You're not opening it now?" Ryunosuke asked incredulously.

"Whyever not? I have a second bottle." Barok gestured to the box he'd laid aside. "And the obliging Miss Iris has provided us with the appropriate vessels. Would you take out two of those pretty cups?"

"You're not asking me to drink it with you?!"

Barok exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I should think that was obvious."

"But, but!" It was a gift — it was too nice for Ryunosuke — and Ryunosuke couldn't appreciate it anyway; he could never tell nice sake from the cheap kind, not really, except the cheap kind burned more when you drank it, but this was meant for Barok, and it wasn't as if Barok would have trouble finishing it on his own —

Barok stood, leaning over Ryunosuke, and produced from some pocket of his hung-up jacket a sleek little folding corkscrew. Gold, with a red gem in the handle. What a thing to carry around — that explained a lot. He stuck the tip into the cork and began pulling it with the quick, certain motions of a sommelier. "Clear off your table — your crate — and set up two cups now, Mr. Naruhodo," he said authoritatively.

What could Ryunosuke do but obey? Barok took out a clean handkerchief to wipe and polish the cups as Ryunosuke unwrapped them. The cork was extracted with a satisfying thunk, and the sake tinkled enticingly as Barok poured it. Seated side-by-side on the bed in their shirtsleeves and sock feet, Barok and Ryunosuke toasted. "How does one say 'cheers' in your tongue?" Barok asked.

"Oh, it's 'kanpai'."

"Kanpai," Barok pronounced sternly. Ryunosuke echoed him and lifted his cup to his lips, feeling the alcohol fumes tingling in his nose, but he didn't drink right away. He was watching. Barok's blue eyes slipped shut and he gave the cup a small sway below his nostrils, taking in the same strong scent that was beginning to make Ryunosuke's eyes water, and probably getting more out of it than Ryunosuke could. Then Barok put the striking red and black rim of the cup to his blossom-pink lips and took a small taste, his mouth coming away glossy-moist. A low huff of breath; movement of his jaw as he tasted it; the slight pulse of his throat as he swallowed almost silently. Cheeks flushed pink, purply-grey eyelashes lowered, expression bordering upon serene. His tongue darted out across his lip.

Rather warm, Ryunosuke took a hurried sip of his own. He downed it almost without tasting it and had to remind himself to notice what he was drinking, as he'd never had such an expensive mouthful in his life — except for those wines at Lady Intyre's dinners, probably — and Barok was sure to have something intelligent to say. But it just tasted like sake to him. Maybe sharper than the cheap sake he was used to, somehow.

"Mmm," Barok hummed, a low thoughtful rumble in his chest. "That is rather strong. Clean — dry — something of a Sangiovese in it. Though I said I wouldn't compare red wine."

"That's alright, I don't know what a Sangio-that tastes like," Ryunosuke said.

Barok exhaled over the rim of his cup, his lips curling at the corner. "Do you detect a note of chestnut?"

"If you say so."

"No, taste again and tell me," Barok urged him.

Ryunosuke looked dubiously into the clear liquor sloshing in the red heart of his cup. He took another sip and held it in his mouth, trying to notice more than the boozy burn. It obviously tasted like rice, a bit. There was that. He swallowed it and closed his eyes, focusing. Savory, somewhat, like the tea Susato liked, but not bitter. There was a kind of sweetness, a kind of...nuttiness, but mild. Ryunosuke blinked up at Barok. "I see what you mean!"

Barok appeared gratified by this. After topping up his own cup, he shifted himself back and leaned against the wall at the foot of the bed, stretching one leg out behind Ryunosuke and tipping his head back. Ryunosuke took the cue and moved back himself, shoving the pillow aside and propping himself against the opposite wall. Barok regarded him from across the bed quietly. Ryunosuke stretched his toes out to poke the red-stockinged foot Barok had curled close to himself. Barok's eyebrows ticked down in consternation. He prodded Ryunosuke's calf with his toe. Ryunosuke set his foot on top of Barok's ankle, pinning it down. Barok's leg turned, knocking Ryunosuke's foot flat onto the covers, his ankle sliding sinuously around Ryunosuke's, pinning the foot in place. Ryunosuke yawped in defeat, wiggled his helpless toes, and took a drink.

"Is your family from Kyoto?" Barok asked.

"Eh?" Ryunosuke scrunched his nose. "No. Where did that come from?"

"You mentioned visiting Kyoto. I thought perhaps you had gone to see your parents. Pray forgive my mistake." Barok was looking at him steadily, unapologetic.

This wasn't really a subject Ryunosuke wanted to get into, not when they were having such a nice time.

"You refer to this lot — " Barok tipped his chin, indicating the first floor below them — "as your family, with no qualifier. For a time, I thought you were an orphan, like me. My apprentice says you are not."

"Why are you asking about this?" Ryunosuke sounded a little whiny when he said it.

"We have spoken much of family, but never of yours. If my curiosity is offensive to you, I beg you will make allowances, having pressed me to the point of disgracing myself upon the subject." Barok swirled his sake cup like a chalice, his head tilted slightly, like he thought he was making a flawless argument.

Which, really, he was. Ryunosuke emptied his glass and set it aside. If it wasn't quite right to drink something that nice that quickly, Barok would have to forgive the discourtesy. "There isn't all that much to say. I'm from a town near Yokohama. My father is a shipping agent — imports and exports, that sort of thing, and my mother is a private English tutor, so I began to learn English when I was young. They aren't really wealthy, but, well, they paid for my university tuition, so...that sort of thing. My older sister lives in Nagoya with her husband and two sons. My younger brother is in business with my father and he's getting married — I suppose he got married recently and I missed it..." Ryunosuke's foot was falling asleep, so he shuffled it loose from Barok's. "That's all."

"You missed your brother's wedding?" Barok asked, his voice rising with something close to alarm. Ryunosuke shrugged. He could feel Barok looking at him intensely. Ryunosuke took the bat netsuke down from the ledge and fiddled with it, running his fingernail over the ridges in the wings. "Is the cause of your distance from them perhaps your...? That is to say, you seem to remain unmarried at a relatively late age," said Barok.

What a delicate way of putting it, from a man Ryunosuke had kissed on the mouth. "It's not that, really. Although I suppose Miss Susato and I staying in business together so long without marrying probably drained away their last hopes in that direction. But that's just a more recent part of..." Ryunosuke frowned down at the bat, lost for words. It wasn't as if there was a problem, really. He couldn't explain the problem between himself and his family because there wasn't one. Things had all worked out nicely.

Barok rolled lithely forward from his place at the foot of the bed, sliding his knees up on either side of Ryunosuke's legs with untoward grace, somehow without spilling the last of his sake, until Ryunosuke had a lap full of gorgeous, oversized prosecutor. Ryunosuke stared up at him, open-mouthed, an electric tingle shooting down his spine and causing unmentionable parts of his anatomy to twitch hopefully. Barok's free hand curled around Ryunosuke's jaw, slipped down the side of his throat, rested on his shoulder. "Part of what?" he asked, his voice low and sweet.

"C-c-close," Ryunosuke said, his hands hovering over Barok's thighs before settling on them. Big, strong thighs that dwarfed Ryunosuke's legs!

"One would imagine that proximity would make it easier to hear when I've asked you a question," Barok drawled.

"It, um..." Right. Question. In fact, Barok had him pinned in place, not that Ryunosuke wanted to be anywhere other than trapped between the wall and Barok's ample chest and the bed and Barok's powerful thighs, but he supposed Barok meant to say he wasn't going to escape the interrogation. The tingles flagged a bit at that thought. "There's no dark family history. There really isn't — if you're thinking they mistreated me, there's really nothing like that. But." Ryunosuke squeezed Barok's legs. Barok probably wouldn't understand this; his family had adored and pampered him. "I suppose it's just that I'm not much like them. Not much like...they imagined an eldest son would be."

Barok's gaze held a sort of calm, suppressed ire. "In what way?"

"Well, you know, I'm, I'm rather silly. I've never had a head for serious business, I always misplace and forget things, and I get very flustered when I've got to talk to important people. And I let other people's feelings affect me too much — I used to cry all the time, especially if I thought someone was angry with me." Ryunosuke lowered his head until his forehead bumped Barok's sternum. "My parents asked me to study hard, and I did — well, as much as I needed to. School was rather easy for me. But even with good grades, it was obvious I wouldn't be much use at the shipping company, so my father made my brother apprentice instead and they sent me to university. Truly, I was happy about that. But then, I think they imagined that I'd become a translator or work in an embassy or something like that once I had my degree, and I...didn't."

"They disapprove of your becoming a lawyer?" Barok pressed.

"No, I don't think so. But it's not very prestigious in Japan, never mind lucrative. Really, they just don't understand why I'd do it, much less the England of it all. But I can't blame them, because it isn't as if I've tried to explain it..."

"Might I venture to ask if you were scolded, as a boy, for crying?"

"Ah!" How had he guessed at that? He was investigating Ryunosuke a little too diligently! But Ryunosuke couldn't deny it. "Well, yes. I was a crybaby, and it must have been exasperating."

With a soft sound like a growl in the back of his throat, Barok turned Ryunosuke's face upward and kissed him. He cupped Ryunosuke's cheeks between his hands, his mouth working over Ryunosuke's with intent, lips soft, tongue hot and boozy. Ryunosuke's hands flew up to grip Barok's waist as a shudder of heat surged through him. "They are unworthy of you," Barok breathed against Ryunosuke's mouth, between kisses. "Though I suppose you will discountenance my saying so — nevertheless — " Barok drew Ryunosuke's lip tenderly between his own, pressed a fervent wet kiss to his cheek — "nevertheless, I say you were a pearl cast before swine."

Ryunosuke laughed a breathless, incredulous, giddy laugh as Barok went on kissing his face. "You can't — you can't call Japanese people swine — "

"You deliberately misconstrue," Barok grumbled by Ryunosuke's ear. "They are swine for failing to prize the best of their kin commensurate with his value."

Overcome and out of arguments, though he felt he should be making some, Ryunosuke hauled Barok closer by the waist, squeezed him tightly between his arms, and pressed his face into Barok's breast, soothing his hot face on the cool silk of Barok's waistcoat. "My, my uncle," Ryunosuke said in a shaky voice, as a sort of defence, "my uncle is a bachelor, he's got a house by the sea, we stayed with him in the summers. I kept staying with him during university after the others stopped. He, um, he's always liked me. We'd stay up late and tell ghost stories. He tried to teach me archery and never c-complained that I wasn't much good."

Barok's body rose and fell with a great gust of a breath. His hand settled on the back of Ryunosuke's head. "Thank goodness one of the Naruhodo clan had an atom of sense."

"And he's not, even," Ryunosuke said. "A Naruhodo. He's my mother's brother."

"And now you live here, with this family."

"Mhm."

"Who store you in an alcove."

It had taken a surprisingly long time for Barok to make fun of his bedroom! "I like my alcove. It's warmer than Susato's room, actually, because the heat of the stove comes right over the screen."

"Because it isn't a room," Barok said, shifting slightly back from Ryunosuke and reaching for the sake bottle. He topped up his cup, then hesitated with the bottle touching the lip of Ryunosuke's. "Will you have more?"

"Oh, sure," Ryunosuke said. Was it possible his lightheadedness was partly the drink, not solely due to Barok's proximity? But he liked it, either way; he thought he might do something rash if he continued to get drunk with Barok. Maybe he hoped he would. They each took another drink, Ryunosuke's free hand back on Barok's thigh. "You're tense," Ryunosuke said. He'd thought it was just Barok's incredible muscle tone, but feeling him move to fill the cups had changed Ryunosuke's mind.

"I am not tense," Barok said huffily. "I am keeping my weight off of your legs."

That explained why Ryunosuke's legs weren't asleep yet. "You don't have to do that. Sit down."

"I have no interest in flattening you."

"It'll be okay." Ryunosuke fished out the fox-bunny netsuke from amongst the blankets and held it in front of his face. "Sit down, Barok," he said in a high, squeaky voice.

"Stop that," Barok said, with a tremulous chortle in his voice, and snatched Ryunosuke's wrist, squeezing his hand to make him drop the netsuke.

Thinking fast, Ryunosuke leaned forward and grabbed the netsuke out of his own hand with his mouth.

"What in the name of — spit that out," Barok hissed.

Ryunosuke tucked the netsuke into his cheek and shook his head.

Draining his cup and setting it down, Barok reached for Ryunosuke's face. Ryunosuke craned his head away, trying to push Barok's hand away and sloshing a little of his own sake down his front.

A little slapping-and-grabbing fight ensued.

"You're going to swallow that and choke," Barok scolded.

"Mm-mm!" Ryunosuke denied, wriggling his knee up and fending Barok off with it. Barok pushed the knee aside and seized Ryunosuke's jaw. Ryunosuke started laughing, breathy and uncontrolled through his nose. Rebelliously, he flopped sideways onto Barok's arm, face-down over the edge of the bed, jarring Barok's grip loose and forcing him to brace his arm across Ryunosuke's chest so Ryunosuke wouldn't faceplant onto the floor. In short order, Barok got his other arm around Ryunosuke and started pulling him up again. "Mmmrgh!" Ryunosuke protested. He batted at Barok's face ineffectually with his injured hand.

The candle flame guttered and failed, and the room went pitch-dark.

They both stopped, their legs in a tangle on the bed, Ryunosuke held sideways against Barok's chest, both breathing hard. Ryunosuke blinked in the dark until his eyes adjusted to the little bit of Baker Street light coming through the window.

He brought his sake cup up and discreetly spat the netsuke into it. "The candle burned out."

Barok set Ryunosuke upright, patting Ryunosuke's clothing. "I apologize for that, erm, display of — "

Ryunosuke lunged at him and kissed him. He only caught the corner of his mouth, but the point was made. "There's a box of candles in the office. I'll just be a moment," Ryunosuke said, climbing off the bed a bit unsteadily. He'd meant for Barok to wait behind, but somehow he was holding onto two of Barok's fingers. As if pulled by this tether, Barok got up, swept the discarded afghan around himself, and followed Ryunosuke out. Ryunosuke rounded the corner into the office, squatting down in front of the shelves behind his desk to get the candles.

"Wotcher, partner," said Kazuma's voice.

"Eek!" said Ryunosuke, shooting to his feet.

On the floor between the stove and Susato's desk, Kazuma and Susato were sitting on the single tatami mat, playing with a deck of hanafuda cards, with two mugs of beer and a plate of sweets between them. They'd obviously been settled there for a while. Ryunosuke stared at them, open-mouthed. How had he and Barok not heard them come up?! "What, why, where are the others?!"

"Iris and Gina fell asleep in Iris's room, and Father is watching Mr. Sholmes work at the chemistry table, so we thought we would join the two of you in the office." Susato tittered, covering her mouth demurely. "But you weren't in the office! We were wondering when you might come out of there."

"I had money on not seeing either of you till morning," Kazuma said, one eyebrow raised significantly.

Ryunosuke realized what it looked like. He and Barok had been holed up in Ryunosuke's tiny bedroom together for...a while. They'd been drinking. These two would have been able to hear some of what was going on. Ryunosuke had a wet patch on his shirt.

Well...Barok had really had a headache! Ryunosuke had a good excuse!

Barok gently pulled his hand free of Ryunosuke's grasp. He drew the afghan around him as if it were his cape, hiding most of his face with it. Ryunosuke could see the creases in his brow. He looked like he wanted to disappear or just die on the spot. He looked like he expected Ryunosuke to be ashamed. To deny everything.

Well, never mind the excuse then. "I, erm, we've been meaning to tell you that, um..." The truth was, they hadn't been meaning to tell them anything — Ryunosuke and Barok hadn't even discussed telling others about the change in their relationship, much less what to call it. Ryunosuke couldn't presume to call Barok his lover, or his sweetheart, or — he had no idea if Barok wanted to be considered any of those things!

"You really don't need to," Kazuma said, smirking at them, clearly amused by the image they made.

"I ought to wash the sake cups," Barok muttered, turning away in a whirl of crochet.

Ryunosuke caught Barok by the arm, holding onto it with both hands, and went for pure, humiliating honesty. "It's just that I'm quite irrevocably sweet on Barok, you see!"

There was utter silence in the office. Kazuma and Susato were the ones gaping now. Barok had his back turned to them, but Ryunosuke could see his face; his eyes were closed, and the set of his lips looked almost sorrowful for a second, but then he covered Ryunosuke's hand with his own and pressed it tight against his arm. His eyes opened, shining with intense emotion that stole Ryunosuke's breath away.

"Well," said Susato, recovering the quickest, "I think that's lovely! I'm very happy for the two of you."

"I knew this was coming," Kazuma said. "I saw it coming and I still don't believe what I'm seeing."

"Say congratulations, Kazuma-sama," Susato chided in Japanese.

Kazuma leaned back against the chest of drawers behind him. "You return his feelings, Lord van Zieks?"

"I — " Barok's voice failed. He cleared his throat and half-turned toward Kazuma. "I treasure him."

"Mm. You know what I'll do to you if you mess up?" Kazuma turned his wrist and cracked the joint significantly.

"Kazuma!" Ryunosuke said, horrified.

"In that event, I would welcome you to do it," Barok replied.

Ryunosuke altered the direction of his horrified look. "Barok!"

"Then congratulations," Kazuma said, picking up his beer and raising it in a casual toast. "Good for you both."

"Would you two like to join us here?" Susato asked Ryunosuke, smoothly passing over the tension between the other two men, although Ryunosuke could see her irritation in the muscles around her eyes.

"What are you playing?" Ryunosuke asked, waffling, glancing at Barok again. He didn't want to turn Susato down, but he didn't want to let Barok be cornered into socializing when he wasn't up to it.

"Koi-koi, but we have a deck of English cards too." Susato held them up. "Perhaps whist?"

"Oh, Barok doesn't like whist," Ryunosuke said, grateful for the polite excuse.

"No, whist is quite alright," Barok said. He took a step towards Ryunosuke's friends and then cast a glance back at Ryunosuke.

Barok's expression was rather brave. Just a moment ago, the pair of them had been all nestled up in a world of their own, and Barok, Ryunosuke realized, had been comfortable there. Now, he was inevitably feeling exposed, embarrassed, unsure of himself — but he'd made a determined decision to draw nearer to Ryunosuke's friends, instead of pulling away.

Ryunosuke followed Barok, who poured himself onto the tatami as gracefully as if he were sitting on a throne. Ryunosuke pulled over a cushion and sat close to him, and Barok welcomed Ryunosuke underneath the afghan. Susato began efficiently shuffling the Western playing cards while Kazuma handed the plate of sweets to Ryunosuke with a knowing wink.

"No cheating," Ryunosuke cautioned the others as cards were dealt, through a mouthful of syrupy cherry tartlet.

It was past midnight when Barok found the fox-bunny languishing in the sake cup and rescued it. After cleaning it with his handkerchief, he gazed upon its little face for a long moment, then tucked it safely away in his waistcoat pocket. Ryunosuke had offered it to him, after all.