Raidou woke up feeling like someone had tried to yank his spine out and tie it in a double bow. Which was probably what he deserved for being an A-grade idiot and falling asleep with his back against the door and his chin on his chest. He straightened up with a juicy chorus of cracks as his joints slid back into place, and groaned quietly, taking in the tally of damage. Headache? Check. Stomachache? Definite check. Face...?

He touched his unscarred cheek gently, and discovered definite evidence of a nasty bruise. Further exploration yielded a few more banded around his neck, and an elaborate pattern of fine blood splatters misted over his shirt, long dried. What the hell--

Club. Fight. Alleyway. Kissing Genma.

Kissing Genma.

"Crap." He scrubbed his hands carefully over his face. Judging by the sunlight knifing through his curtains, it was well into the day. He should get up, shave and shower, toss on some clean clothes and get on with the business of training, practicing, keeping in shape, getting ready for the next mission...

Checking on Genma.

After a long minute to stand and stare at nothing, Raidou hauled himself away from the door, staggered the seven long steps to his bed, and collapsed on it. He barely twitched, a few hours later, when someone pounded on the door.

Genma really, really didn't want to have to raise his voice. Just the knocking was doing bad things to his head, but Raidou wasn't answering. Which probably just meant he was passed out with the pillow over his head. But it might mean he was actually passed out. Although since Genma was pretty sure he'd escaped with only light alcohol poisoning, it was unlikely Raidou had choked to death on his own vomit or stopped breathing just for the hell of it.

"Raidou," he called, and winced. So loud. "I'm coming in. Put down the kunai." He tried the handle, and was surprised to find the door wasn't locked. Not a good sign. But that probably meant Raidou was in fact still inside. Pushing it open cautiously, Genma peered around. Raidou-sized lump on the bed. No reeking pools of sick staining the carpet.

"Rai, wake up. Brought you some medicine." Genma shut the door behind himself and moved with exaggerated care towards his friend. Every footfall made his brains slosh inside his head. He could feel them. His gut gurgled ominously. Medicine could kick in any time now...

He sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand on Raidou's shoulder. "Rai, it's me Genma," he whispered. "Wake up, okay?"

It was just a fact of life that if you hung around someone enough, got used to the way they talked and moved and breathed, knew their scent and voice and chakra signature like a second skin, your own body wouldn't recognize them as a threat. Wouldn't wake up until they sat down next to you and rested a hand on your shoulder.

Raidou startled into sudden consciousness with a gasp that made his head pound, and lurched up on one elbow. Fingers tightened against his skin. He almost cracked Genma in the jaw before he realized what was going on, and then he grabbed his own head instead.

"Kid--what--?"

Alleyway. Cold, slick brick and warm lips without the bright steel of a senbon. Hands clutching his shoulders and pulling on his shirt--

Raidou's back hit the wall. "Damn, lov--kid, don't you knock? I'm trying to be hungover, here." His eyes slid away; he closed them before Genma could see and pressed the heel of his palm harder against his skull. His voice came out with a croak. "Feels like someone dropped a mountain on me."

"Yeah, I know," Genma answered. "Talk more quietly, okay?" He winced and held his own head for a moment. "I brought you something. Medicine. Ought to help." Slow, careful, deliberate movements brought out the two dark-green folded slips of paper holding Genma's magic hangover remedy. "You know the drill. You want water to mix it in, or juice?"

Juice worked better. Got some sugar into you. But sometimes the thought of juice was enough to make you skip the medicine altogether. Which was a bad idea, really.

He stood up and went to get a glass for Raidou. "Just stay there. Or you know, if you need to get up, you can do that." Why was his voice so loud? He toned it down to barely audible. "You want juice?" Genma's stomach made further burbling complaints at the thought.

"Uh--yeah, sure," said Raidou, puzzled. He sat up carefully, leaning himself back against the wall, and watched Genma walk like he was stepping on eggshells back to the kitchen. Those slow, careful strides looked sleek and graceful, if you didn't happen to know they were covering a hangover the size of Sunagakure.

Raidou frowned, and then stopped when his head complained. He rubbed his eyes. Why was Genma acting so--so normal? It wasn't every day you got shoved up against a wall and kissed, surely.

Well, unless you were Genma. But still...

There should be some reaction, right? A look, or a comment, or--something. Raidou kissing anybody was usually cause for endless babble and teasing; kissing the source of that babbling and teasing should surely merit some reaction. Any reaction.

He watched Genma from under his eyelashes, and found his friend glaring a little balefully into cupboards while he hunted for glasses. That... wasn't really a reaction.

Light dawned. Maybe Genma didn't remember.

If there is a god, Raidou thought fervently, you at least owe me this. I never ask for anything.

"Hey, fearless," he called softly, "things are a little fuzzy over here. You remember who we annoyed enough to end up with all the face colours?" He gestured at his bruises.

"Mullet-boy and his closeted, ass-pirate buddy," Genma said, pulling a glass triumphantly from the cupboard. "He thought you were insulting his woman, so he insulted yours." He started to laugh, but laughing made his skull ring like the big gong at the temple.

"I think I might have broken the buddy's wrist," he continued, in more modulated tones. "And then there were some guys fighting about a designer shirt. I'm pretty sure Anna was really pissed at us, but we didn't start it. I don't think."

Memories of Raidou in a headlock and Shin taking down bad-haircut guy. Memories of clambering over the bar. It got very, very indistinct after that. "I remember we totally kicked ass."

Glass. Juice. Next was locating--ugh--juice. He pulled the refrigerator open and got out a bottle of apple juice. At least apple was see-through. Pouring it into the glass, he tried very, very hard not to smell it.

Excellent. Of all times for Genma to develop an apparently photographic memory--Raidou resisted the urge to put his head between his knees and breathe deeply. It would hurt his back, for one thing, and probably his head. His head was really quite adamant about there being no more pain.

He rubbed one bruised-knuckled hand over his mouth and chin, and tried to collect himself. Genma remembered the fight, but the fight wasn't the--the alleyway. There was still a chance.

In one distant corner of Raidou's brain, a small voice was trying to ask what was really so bad about Genma remembering everything. But it was getting loudly overruled by louder, much more panicky voices. He'd kissed his best friend.

He'd gotten drunk and kissed his best friend.

He'd gotten drunk and kissed his best male friend!

There was no part in any of those thoughts that he liked. They all led to very bad places where people got laughed at, or hurt, or ended up bleeding on rooftops in the moonlight...

Raidou tightened his grip on his head and made a decent effort at squeezing the panic right out of his brain.

"And after that?" he asked carefully.

"Well..." Genma tipped the powder into the glass and stirred it with a chopstick. Scent from the apple juice wafted upwards from the vortex, and he went even paler than he already was. He swallowed and bit back his nausea with the stern reminder that he was doing this for Raidou, who was easily as hung over as he was, and hadn't had the good fortune to have choked his medicine down already, so needed it now.

"Um..." Ugh. He carried the class carefully back to his friend and held it out. Raidou didn't usually puke. Usually. If he did, though, Genma was afraid there would be nothing holding him back from joining him other than a complete lack of stomach contents. "Sip it, and if sips are okay, drink it all."

He sat down on the bed again, and watched Raidou carefully.

"Let's see. We booked it out of the club, I think, before any Uchiha showed up and started arresting people. I think there might have been a knife fight. You don't have any stabs, do you? And then um... Well..." He had no idea. What the hell had happened after leaving the club? He struggled to pull memories from his aching brain.

Raidou looked really nervous.

"Don't puke, okay?"

Raidou's grip tightened on his juice until the glass squeaked. He forced himself to loosen his fingers and ignored Genma's advice to sip carefully; it wasn't alcohol, but he needed some form of liquid courage, and juice was a hell of a lot better than a hair of the dog right now, especially if it came laced with a hangover cure.

His stomach knotted and protested. He ignored it. If Genma was about to tell him to go the hell away and never watch his back again, Raidou felt fully within his rights to throw up a little. It had been one kiss. And he'd been insane. It didn't count!

The glass was squeaking again. He readjusted his grip.

"Just get it over with," he rasped, and pulled his head up to meet his friend's eyes squarely. If Genma wanted to make him go, he'd have to look at him while he said it.

Genma blinked. "Get what over with?" he asked. A look at Raidou's tense face and his iron grip on the glass gave a possible clue. Was he talking to himself about the juice? "Seriously, don't go too fast. It's better if you can drink all of it, you know?"

The tension was bad. Maybe distraction would help. What had they been talking about? Oh yes, last night. Genma forged bravely ahead.

"Well, anyway... Seriously, Rai, small sips. It will help. Anyway, I really have no idea what happened after that. I mean, we're here, so that kind of tells me we didn't get arrested for indecency or vandalism or killing anyone, right? Although I still say pissing on the wall outside the Uchiha compound isn't vandalism. It was pretty watery piss."

It had carried a damned high fine for such a minor crime, too. But that was last fall. This was now, and there was no evidence they'd done anything worse than stagger home.

"I woke up here, with a pan full of puke, a glass of water, and my med kit next to my bed. I figured you musta got me home safe."

Raidou felt the stiff line of his shoulder relax very slowly, tension bleeding away. He studied Genma, but Genma was busy watching him back, faint concern plastered all over his face. Nothing that especially screamed My best friend lost his mind and kissed me last night. Now I'm waiting for him to choke on his poisoned juice.

Maybe, impossibly, he really didn't remember. Genma was the lightweight, comparatively speaking. And it worked that way sometimes; the alcohol didn't really hit the bloodstream until you got outside, and then wham. The kerb was where most people took a nosedive, not the dancefloor.

Raidou cradled his glass and relaxed. If Genma didn't remember, then...

All he had to worry about was the hangover.

He leaned back against the wall, letting his aching head rest against cold plaster, and regarded his friend. Dressed in an over-sized hoody with a nasty shiner swelling one eye closed, Genma looked mostly like a kid who'd picked a fight with his older brother.

Raidou snorted, carefully. "What d'you mean we were awesome?" he said, and grinned with a brief flash of teeth. "Clearly I was awesome and you got your ass kicked. Too busy goggling at the scary transvestite bartenders, that's your issue."

"I totally kicked ass," Genma repeated. "We were utterly fabulous together, like we always are. And Anna's not my type. Although I think she liked you. Drink a little more juice."

Raidou looked like he was doing better. Probably those first few sips were starting to work. The medicine was definitely starting to work for Genma, which was always a minor miracle when it happened. The menacing gut cramps eased off. The churning in his stomach and clenching in his raw esophagus settled enough that he could almost think about wanting to drink a little juice himself. Only his head continued to ache mercilessly, but the black eye and darkly bruised knot on his temple probably had a lot to do with that.

He folded his legs up under him and leaned carefully back next to Raidou.

"Feeling better?"

"Trying to say I look like crap?" Raidou tilted his glass, letting the last dregs of the juice swirl around the bottom before he knocked it back like a shot. The apple made it taste a little too much like one of Anna's creations for his personal comfort, but he wanted that hangover cure now. His stomach complained at the sudden invasion; he swore silently at it until it calmed again.

Headache? Check. Stomachache? Still check. Face? Definitely bruised. But all of it... starting to fade a little. With any luck, he'd actually survive the day.

"How about you?" he asked, setting his empty glass on one knee. He tilted his head slightly, getting a better look at Genma's face. Pale and drawn, definitely, but no worse than any of their other mornings after. The bruise at his temple was dark and angry looking. "Looks like that table really caught you. Can't you--" his hand waved, "--mother-medic it?"

"What table?" Genma raised a hand to his head and felt the goose egg there again with a frown. "Did someone hit me with a table? Is that why I blacked out?" That certainly explained it. Although a bar brawl that involved smashing furniture and a clean getaway ought to have been memorable. He was seriously disappointed that he'd managed to forget that as well as getting home.

"I can do something about my eye when I'm sure I'm sober and not hungover too much. If I try now I'd probably do something stupid and give myself a traumatic cataract." Was that the voice of bitter experience speaking? Why yes, it was. "I'll fix you up then, too."

Raidou didn't look too badly beaten. His neck was bruised and his jaw looked a little puffy, but...

"You didn't get any teeth knocked loose, did you? Cause that we'd have to go see the dentist for."

"Yeah, I know, kid," Raidou said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "I've lost teeth before, remember? And I'm fine this time. Just got on the wrong end of some jackass's fists." He touched his cheek thoughtfully, then dropped his hands to rest in his lap. "And you didn't get hit with a table, you sought out your own tables and headbutted them--well, it. Just the one. And I'm pretty sure you fell on it."

Genma was looking a little puzzled. Raidou bit his tongue and organized his thoughts.

"So by the time we got back, you were the little worse for wear. Wanted to check out the girls showers, pick a fight with Hatake--again, by the way--and you definitely didn't want to stay in your own bed. Pitched a fit when I got up to get you some juice and landed on your bedside table. Head-first."

He paused. "Actually, in retrospect, it was pretty funny."

"Sure, laugh at your poor wasted friend. I swear Anna was just trying to get me so smashed she'd have a chance with you when I passed out. There's no way those drinks needed to be that strong." He rubbed his head ruefully, then darted a mischievous smile at Raidou.

"So were there any girls in the girls' showers worth looking at?" It really was annoying not remembering. There had definitely been something in those drinks. He'd have to have a word with Anna about it, after she calmed down about the fact that he'd been involved in a brawl--which was totally not his fault--in her place.

That sudden quick grin made Raidou feel hot and cold inside. He pushed the feeling down, not quite sure what it even meant, and caught the glass still balanced on his knee to give his hands something to do. "Mostly there was just you looking for a place to throw up," he said. "Which any girl'll tell you is the best romantic gesture, I'm sure. Especially from a trained seduction expert."

Except Genma wasn't the one who'd capped his night by grabbing a friend and pinning them against a wall. That was all Raidou. Unless Genma had been giving off some sort of automatic signal that came on when he slipped into civvies, beyond wearing his jeans like a second skin--whoa, fella. Raidou fumbled his glass and caught it.

Hangover-induced insanity. Right. Because thinking about your best friend that way just wasn't--right. Not to mention Genma was male and hardly likely to be interested in someone missing half his damn face. He liked pretty girls and younger guys. Not battle-scarred veterans.

Not that Raidou was interested.

At all.

"Look, uh, I think I'm going to sleep a bit more. Try and wear my headache out the old fashioned way. Think we can catch up later and--" something normal, "--train, maybe?"

"Yeah, okay," Genma agreed with a yawn. He eased himself slowly back to standing, and was grateful when the room stayed pretty much in place under his feet. "Maybe some conditioning or something. Weights. Nothing involving blows to the head..." He winced and rubbed his temple, giving Raidou a wry smile.

Poor guy really looked like he was feeling anything but his best.

"That stuff will kick in better if you sleep a little more, anyway. I'll go crash a little longer, too, give the dose I took a chance to do some good. Come get me when you wake up? I'll start my rice cooker so we have something bland to eat when we get up." Not that the idea of food held even the slightest appeal. But it would, eventually, be necessary. Always best to start with plain white rice.

"You might feel better if you changed out of that before you crash," He added, pointing at Raidou's blood- and other unidentifiable substances-stained shirt. The iron-grey one, that had fit him so well. It could probably be cleaned. Genma didn't wait for an answer, just grabbed a t-shirt at random from Raidou's dresser and tossed it gently onto the bed.

"You can always throw a kunai through the wall if you need me," he added, and headed back to his own bed, thinking happy, if fuzzy, thoughts about his best friend. A guy you could drink with, brawl with, get sick with, be hungover with, and just be with, was definitely one in a million.

Raidou watched him go silently. Some time after the door clicked shut, he remembered himself and reached for the shirt Genma had thrown at him. It was an old one, soft and green and patched where some blade had torn it. He shucked the grey one off and pulled the new one over his head, then tossed the grey one vaguely in the direction of the laundry basket.

Through the wall, he heard the faint sound of Genma's door closing. Quiet shuffling. The glink of bedsprings.

Genma really had to do something about those bedsprings.

Afternoon sun was still filtering gently through half-closed curtains, cutting brighter patches out of the shadows drifting over pale blue carpet. His apartment smelled like juice and stale sweat and bar smoke. Felt unbearably quiet in the wake of Genma's cheerful, hungover chatter.

Raidou touched his mouth with two calloused fingertips and stared blankly at the opposite wall. Then he lay down and tried very hard to go back to sleep, thinking of nothing.

The light was almost gone when he finally succeeded.