And the Party Ends

It's late. Or maybe it's early. You're not really sure how time works anymore. You're not even sure how long you've been drinking (and it's been a long time since you last drank like this, anyway). The only thing you're sure of is Kato's not as drunk as you but he's already shirtless and he's sprawled on your bed singing in Chinese (folk song, he said, when you asked) with this sloppy grin on his face like he's having the time of his life.

And you can't take your eyes off him.

He's lying there, his arms in the air, waving back and forth while he sloppily conducts himself, and all you can do is watch the way his arms move and the way his body shifts on the bed. You finished your beer long ago but you can't bring yourself to get another because that would mean turning away and even though you feel kind of like a creep watching him you really don't want to stop.

Besides, he does keep looking at you like he's making sure you're still there, and that's a good enough reason not to move on its own; one that lets you ignore your own (slightly selfish) reasons for staying where you are.

You're not sure when you wound up on the bed (if you recall correctly, it involved Kato's song getting steadily louder until it was as if he were screaming instead of singing and you had to rush over and slap a hand over his mouth before he broke your eardrums), but the how doesn't really matter so much. Not right now. Not now that you're so close to him that your hand, resting innocently by your side, is brushing against his hip.

It's kind of making you nervous, even with all the alcohol in your system, and you keep glancing at Kato, wondering if he's gonna push you away or something but he just keeps humming (because that's what he's doing now that your hand is not on his face) and smiling and glancing over at you…

And that's when you do it. You lift yourself up on your elbow and you cup Kato's face with your hand and you lean down – trying to be real slow and suave – and kiss him. It's sloppy and a little uncomfortable, but you're drunk so it's not surprising and besides: he's kissing you back.

It doesn't last long, and it doesn't go any further, but it happened and it's there and as you lay beside Kato, letting his humming lull you to sleep, you're glad. There's a voice in the back of your head wondering what'll happen in the morning, but you ignore that voice because right now it doesn't matter.

What matters is Kato didn't punch you in the face.