Work Text:
- The Living Room -
"So this is where you live!"
Britt stalked through Kato's apartment, looking in awe from the piles of unwashed dishes to the much-patched-up training dummy and the Ikea bookshelf groaning under the weight of technical manuals. He turned back to see Kato still holding the door, looking annoyed, but man, Britt never knew what was eating that guy, sometimes it was as if he was annoyed just for the sake of being annoyed. Okay, so maybe Britt had burst in without asking. That was probably it. See, he was getting better at being able to tell.
"Aren't you going to show me around?" Just because he could tell didn't mean Kato wasn't overreacting. Besides, he wanted a tour. Britt looked around again. The apartment was just two rooms and a bathroom, with the kitchen sink and hotplates sharing space with the TV set and a coffee table strewn over with boxes of small parts, nuts and bolts. Britt had been expecting something a bit more like the Batcave or at least some swords mounted on the wall. He thought he saw a bo staff propped up against the bookshelf, and now that he looked for it, nunchaku were slung over the back of a kitchen chair and there was the handle of a sword of some sort sticking out of the umbrella stand. Kato didn't seem to be very tidy. It was fascinating.
"What are you doing here?" Kato asked. "How did you even find the place?"
"Lenore, and Lenore," Britt said. "She told me to go bother you instead of her and gave me the address."
"What, you were bored?"
"What, you were busy?"
Kato crossed his arms and regarded him. There was no better word for it, Britt was being regarded. That was usually a good thing, or at least interesting. He took two steps and closed the door behind Kato, trapping Kato between it and himself.
Kato didn't flinch, but leaned back and continued to regard with a small smile.
Britt loved this part, if it was the part he thought it was. He might have been jumping into a conclusion there. Once was no guarantee of twice. Kato could just punch him across the room, crack his ribs and re-open the bullet wound in the process. Britt considered it a calculated risk, and one he was willing to take. He leaned in.
He didn't get punched. He stopped and searched Kato's impassive face. "What's up with you?" he murmured. "I thought I was forgiven." He brushed his lips against Kato's cheek and now the man did shift uncomfortably. He had to admit it, it stung. "We do the nasty once and you go in hiding for a week? Kinda makes a guy feel cheap."
"It took you a week to come looking," Kato pointed out.
"You mean you've been sitting by the phone all this time?" Britt kissed his neck just as lightly, eliciting a different kind of a shift. An encouraging kind.
"Don't be stupid."
"No bullshit, Kato." Britt pulled back and studied him seriously. Kato remained unreadable. "We didn't really discuss it last time, so let's get things straight. Bottom line - any way you want me, you got me. You want a brother, platonic male friend and all that shit, fine, we can do that. Fuckbuddy, partner, lover, husband, you got me, all right? So don't play games."
Kato snorted. "Okay. Platonic."
Britt would have preferred a punch. It's not that he couldn't handle rejection, usually. Usually, it was a breeze. You just swallow your pride, maybe decide it's not you, it's her (or him) to take the edge off, and move on. Wasn't working this time. He tried it anyway, swallowed, nodded, and started to step back when Kato grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into a kiss.
It was an amazing kiss, but then everything Kato did was amazing.
"Just kidding," he said when they untangled.
"You little shit," said Britt and retangled.
-
- The Bedroom -
"Holy shit, Kato," Britt gasped as his head hit the thin grey pillow on the bed. "I've never seen that much porn in one place. That's seven shelves."
"Hypocrite," said Kato and straddled him. "Probably got a whole closet at home."
"Not on VHS."
Kato frowned. "I feel you're not focusing."
"Oh, I'm focusing." Britt grinned. "I'm just wondering what's in that drawer..." He reached out with his good arm to hook a finger around the end table drawer's handle and pull it open.
Kato slammed it shut. "Maybe later."
-
- The Kitchen -
"Did we open it?" Britt said, feeling his shoulder.
"It's just a bit of blood," Kato said. He began to undo the bandage.
"Nothing we can do for it anyway," Britt said. "Ow."
"Don't be a baby," said Kato, bundling the bandage in his hand as it came off. "Needs to be cleaned, anyway."
Britt sat back against the kitchen counter and let him do it. He nearly knocked off a tower of dirty plates and for some reason that made him laugh. "Shit, Kato. What's this, like three weeks' worth?"
"Like you ever did the dishes in your life."
"True." Britt shrugged and immediately regretted it. Kato just grinned at his pain. Bastard.
-
- The Bathroom -
"I have no idea who this guy is supposed to be, but he is awesome," Britt said, making the plastic red and yellow superhero toy fly around over their heads.
"It's just some cheap knock-off," Kato said. He turned the tab off and leaned back against Britt in the tub. It was much too small for the two of them, especially with Britt's long legs, but they'd squeezed in somehow. Soap hills towered high on the steaming water. "I used to make them for a living. It's a kind of reminder."
"Did you use to make those duckies too?"
"Nah." Kato picked up two of the magenta, green-billed things from the tub's side and studied them. "They came with the apartment."
"People leave their shit lying around when they move?"
"Well, yeah." Kato twisted his head around to look up at him. "You wouldn't know, I guess?"
"Kato," Britt said happily, "I love your place."
Kato stared. "You're so weird."
"I know, but let's not get off the point. This place is awesome. I want to live here." He gazed lovingly at the yellowed sink and the worn old bathroom carpet.
Kato snorted. "Rich bastard. Slum somewhere else."
"But I want to slum here."
"You're not bringing a toothbrush to my place, Britt."
"One day, Kato." He kissed the back of Kato's head. "Thank you, by the way."
"What for?"
"The tour."
"Fuck you."
"That too."
Kato splashed him with water, Britt attacked him with the unnamed superhero, and things got a little childish.
-
- Outside -
Corwin Exley, photographer and journalist, wasn't having the best of days. His right hand was probably going to get infected, he'd torn a hole in his trousers, and he still wasn't sure he could climb down off that rooftop without tearing the rusted old fire escape off its tethering on the wall. He figured he'd just got lucky on the way up. But what could you do? It was that kind of a job.
Nobody appreciated the rigors a dedicated paparazzi went through. You busted your ass for a few lousy blurry shots of some celebrity's feet up in the air. All he'd got this time was some shirtless first-aid stuff with half a profile in view and a steamed-up bathroom window. It was as good as nothing. Reid wasn't even that interesting. Movie stars and politicians, those were the kinds of celebrities people really wanted to hear about. Now, if Reid was a vocal conservative or something – then they'd be talking. Nobody even knew if the guy voted. Still, his dad had been something of a bigshot, so if Corwin got a good shot of something juicy and queer, maybe he'd make enough for a new ride. The Toyota was falling apart under him.
There he was now. Corwin picked up his camera and peered through the long lens, adjusting focus. Reid came out through the ground-floor door, three floors down from the maybe-boyfriend's apartment. No chance, Corwin supposed, that... No, there he was! The other guy had followed him. He handed something to Reid. A doll? What the hell? Corwin took the photos anyway, snapping away diligently. Reid headed away without so much as a goodbye kiss. Romance really was dead.
Well, that was disappointing. So much for that new Nissan Micra. Corwin packed up his gear with a sigh. Okay, new rule – stick with starlets and Republicans. There's no money in CEOs.