Kotetsu dialed the phone quickly, his fingers punching the numbers on the clunky, cordless phone. The other line began to ring and he gripped the phone anxiously.

"Oh no!" Kaede cried out, sinking onto the stool beside Kotetsu. She swiped the screen of Kotetsu's cellphone and dropped it on the counter. She buried her face in her hands, resting against the glass counter with a sob. "I'm caller 67…"

"Ah, Kaede, I'm sorry," Kotetsu murmured, combing his free hand through her short, brown hair. "Maybe next time…"

"This wouldn't happen if we could just buy the tickets!" Kaede complained, tears falling from her eyes.

"It's so hard being 9," Kotetsu whispered, propping the phone against the crook of his neck and shoulder. And he meant it, in a non-patronizing way. He kissed the top of her head, jumping in surprise as a voice answered on the other end of the phone.

"Hello! You're caller 100! Please hold…"

"Caller 100? Wait… what?" Kotetsu said, despite already having been put on hold. Kaede looked up at him, her large, brown eyes glistening with tears.

"What's that, Papa?" Kaede asked hopefully.

"I don't know yet, Princess…" Kotetsu admitted, smiling and waving as a customer entered the shop. "Ah, hello, welcome to Kaburagi Liquor!"

"Hello, this is KBS Radio's Suzuki Hinami! You're our caller 100!" the woman introduced quickly, her voice streaming through the phone and belatedly through the radio behind the cash register. "We are here with Barnaby Brooks Jr. and today we are giving away two tickets to his Meet and Greet at Tower Records, plus a FREE copy of his new CD."

"PAPA!" Kaede screamed, grabbing her father's arm in excitement.

"What's your name?" Hinami asked.

"Er, uh, well, Kaburagi Kotetsu," Kotetsu said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

"Well, Kaburagi-san, I guess you're a big fan!" Hinami continued.

"Oh, well, my daughter Kaede is a big fan…" Kotetsu answered lamely. "She really wants to go."

"Alright! I hope we can make her dreams come true. We've got a few short trivia questions to ask and the tickets and CD are yours… I mean your daughter's…" Hinami joked. "Barnaby would you like to ask the questions?"

"Yes, that would be fine." Barnaby said, his voice circling around Kotetsu like an echo. "Question 1, Where was I born?"

"Oooh oooh!" Kaede exclaimed, raising her hand impatiently. "That's easy! The Isle of Wight."

"The Isle of White?" Kotetsu said into the phone.

"Correct." Barnaby said. "Question 2, Finish the lyric, 'Hot, Sticky, Sweet…'"

"You're my favorite treat!" Kaede answered, tugging wildly at her father.

"W-were those the w-words?" Kotetsu blushed, looking down at his daughter in embarrassment. "Wow, uh… well…Y-You're my… favorite… treat…" Kotetsu mumbled into the phone, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Correct, almost there…" Hinami said excitedly. "Just one more!"

"Final question, What is the title of my new album?"

"Folie et Luxure." Kaede said with great effort. "It's hard to say…"

"F-folie et Luxure…" Kotetsu repeated carefully.

"Excellent! You've just won yourself two tickets!" Hinami cried out happily. "Stay on the line for details…"

"You are the best!" Kaede screamed, hugging her father around the waist tightly.

"Heh," Kotetsu grumbled. "I think I might be taking away a few CDs later…"

"Oh, Papa!" Kaede's lip puckered out dramatically. "Everyone listens to BBJ!"

Barnaby collapsed onto the bed, his body flushed, his heart pounding. A stream of sweat rolled down his cheek and into his hair. He sighed, his fingers scratching absently at the exposed flesh below his belly button. He sank into the soft, white sheets beneath him and, his lids drooping sleepily, watched the woman beside him stand up. She excused herself to the restroom, her hands tugging at the slinky fabric of her disheveled, rolled up underwear.

He wanted to fall asleep, buried beneath the thick, soft covers in the cold hotel room, but he knew he couldn't afford to. It was an unscrupulous world and, with smartphones, his sleeping face could be plastered over every inch of the internet before the sun even rose. He groaned irritably, sitting up and shivering as the sweat dried on his neck.

Barnaby dressed quickly, double checking his pockets for his wallet and phone. He paused at the door to the restroom, his forehead resting against the jamb. "Hey, I'm gonna go ahead and go. Cheers…"

Barnaby scanned the room for anything personal he might be leaving and then let the door close behind him, his keycard left on the table beside the telephone. He paused in the hallway in front of the elevator, studying himself in the mirror hanging on the burgundy wall. He finger-combed his shaggy, blonde hair; twisting the more stubborn strands into place with two expert fingers.

The hotel lobby was nearly empty, which was an immense relief. He flashed a grin at the woman behind the desk and she blushed deeply, nodding her head in salutation. Barnaby flicked his hand through his hair, shaking it pointedly, his grin widened and the woman behind the desk had to look away. Barnaby, rather pleased with himself, pulled out his wallet as he walked through the revolving doors and outside the building. He plucked his valet tag and a 5000 yen note, handing them to the man at the valet stand silently.

"Right away, Mr. Brooks…" the valet murmured, his hands clutching the tip as he hurried away, speaking into his radio quickly.

He offered another 5000 yen note to the valet who pulled up in his car. He flashed a smile, his green eyes burning into and through the other man. He slid into the driver's seat, his body sinking comfortably into the beautiful Italian leather. He tapped his steering wheel, raising the volume rapidly, the music nearly blaring as the valet shut his door.

Barnaby revved his engine, the Bugatti Veyron obeying willingly, purring to life and sliding out of the driveway like a knife through butter. He turned a sharp corner, accelerating smoothly and without effort. He cut through two lanes of traffic, his red Bugatti a blur of color in the night. He nodded along to the music, his heart pumping pleasantly, and he rolled down his window, the rush of air slinging his hair around wildly.

And then everything was suddenly fucked. Barnaby slammed on his brakes, seeing too late the small, red flashing light on the bicycle. The Bugatti drifted for several hundred yards, narrowly missing the concrete divider of the entrance ramp. Barnaby cursed loudly, unconsciously squeezing his eyes shut as something large and solid hit the side of his car.

The bicycle was crushed beneath the wheels and, after a sickening spin, the Bugatti came to a stop. Barnaby swallowed with difficulty, his entire body shaking. He sat in stunned disbelief for several seconds before letting out a shaky breath. He couldn't stop the stress tears that fell from his eyes. He opened the door and climbed out of his car, tapping his pockets and looking for his phone. He dialed emergency services, looking around street for assistance, but no one had stopped. Barnaby looked under his car, surveying for damage, cursing as he saw the bicycle. "Hello? Are you alright?"

The phone beeped, a recorded message informing him that he was put on hold. Barnaby pressed the phone against his ear, propping it up with his shoulder; he walked around his car slowly, unsure of what kind of gore-filled scene was waiting for him.

A man was slumped over, his head nearly falling into his lap. Barnaby took a cautious step forward. "The line's engaged, but I've called 999…"

"It's 119 here, idiot."

Barnaby looked at his cellphone in concern. "I think it redirects automatically on mobiles…" Barnaby kneeled beside the man, his hand hovering over him uncertainly. "Can you move?"

"Haven't tried…" the man muttered, his fingers wriggling slowly. "You fucked up my bike."

"I'm so sorry," Barnaby apologized, waiting impatiently for someone to answer the line. "I couldn't see you. It's nearly 2 am, what are you doing out so late? And wearing all black! Are you daft?"

The man looked up, blood drizzling out of his nose and down his chin and shirt. "Am I daft?"

"I didn't see you until I was up on you…" Barnaby insisted. The man's head bobbed forward and Barnaby grabbed his shoulder in concern. "Hey, don't die on me…"

"I'm not dying!" The man groaned, pushing himself onto his knees. He struggled nobly, pulling himself to his feet by sheer will. "Do you know that you just ran me over, asshole?"

"Ah, should you be standing?" Barnaby asked.

"Ah shit! My bike!" the man cried out in aggravation. "You'd better pay for that, asshole!"

"Well, yes, of course…" Barnaby shook his head, looking at the counter on his phone. "I will pay for all damages…"

The man's face paled and he swooned, Barnaby catching him around the waist. Barnaby looked around with worry, but there was still no one else around to help. Barnaby cursed, dragging the man over to his car. He hung up his phone and dialed his assistant, Keith, before opening his car door. He propped the man inside, mindful of his injuries and ran around the car. He reversed slowly, the bike teetering beneath his wheels.

"Hey, it's me, I have a question…" Barnaby breathed, throwing his car into gear. "I'm somewhere off of Route 298… Where's the nearest hospital?"

"Hospital?!" Keith cried out, the sleep evaporating from his voice instantly. "What happened, Barnaby?"

"I bleeding hit someone…" Barnaby explained, maneuvering his car onto the interstate.

"You punched someone?" Keith asked, whispering into the phone even though Barnaby knew he was alone in his own hotel room.

"No, I hit some bloody bloke on a bloody shitty bicycle, with my bloody car…" Barnaby growled.

"I understand." Keith said, and Barnaby could just tell he was nodding as he said it. "I'll send the directions to your car. I'll meet you there. Don't say anything to anyone! No press! Understand?"

"Understood."

When Barnaby pulled into the parking lot the man beside him opened his eyes. He looked at Barnaby in confusion and as he struggled to straighten himself he winced in pain. "Who the heck are you?"

"I'm the arsehole who just ran you over." Barnaby threw his car into park and ran around to the other side, throwing open the passenger door. He offered his arm to the man but then reconsidered, pulling the man into his arms and lifting him from the car.

"Is that your car?" the man asked, letting his head fall weakly against the crook of Barnaby's arm.

"At least you weren't hit by a K-car, right?" Barnaby teased, carrying the man through the automatic doors. The man smiled crookedly, his thick, dark lashes fluttering softly over his amber eyes. He let out a soft chuckle and Barnaby couldn't stop returning the infectious smile. "At least you can laugh…"

"You're not funny, I'm just being kind so I can go to Heaven…" the man whispered, his brows furrowed in discomfort.

"Hello! Help! This man is seriously hurt…" Barnaby called out, carrying the man to the admission desk. "There was an accident… He was hit by my car…"

Several nurses came around the desk and within a minute the man was being placed on a stretcher. "His name? Any identification?"

"Oh, uh, well," Barnaby stammered. "I don't know, I didn't even think to ask…"

"Ka-buragi," the man breathed slowly, sighing in relief as they placed an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. "Kotetsu…" He sat up suddenly, his eyes wide with panic. "My daughter… she's ho-me… alone…"

"Kaburagi Kotetsu…" Barnaby repeated, stepping forward unconsciously as they rolled Kotetsu's stretcher toward the operating theater.

"There's nothing else to be done, M-M-Mr. Brooks," one of the nurses said nervously, looking him up and down as if she didn't quite believe her own eyes. "Perhaps you should file the accident report with the police now…"

"Yeah, I'll do that…" Barnaby agreed, nodding his head. "Is there any way… you… can tell me how he is? I would like to take personal responsibility for the damages…"

"Normally, we only provide this to family, but here is his admission number…" the nurse said, handing Barnaby a slip of paper. "You can call the hospital and use this number to discover his status…"

"Ah, yes, perfect, thanks…" Barnaby smiled appreciatively, clutching the slip in his hand. "Will do."

"Is there… any way…" the nurse asked meekly. "Would you… give me… an autograph…?"

"Of course." Barnaby said with a smile, tucking the slip of paper into his jacket pocket. He signed the sheet of paper on her clipboard, carefully writing her name as instructed. "Thanks for everything. I'm counting on you."

"Barnaby…" Keith called out, sliding across the tiled floor in front of him. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so…" Barnaby looked down suddenly, inspecting himself anxiously. "My right arm hurts a bit."

"The person you hit…" Keith whispered worriedly. "Is he gonna pull through?" Keith grabbed his cellphone, tapping his fingers fretfully. "Should I call the embassy?"

"He looked okay, mostly…" Barnaby replied thoughtfully. "And I haven't been drinking, I was speeding but I had slowed down quite a bit before the impact…" Barnaby eyed Keith slowly, his tongue clicking quietly. "When's my flight out?"

"Thursday evening." Keith answered.

"Cancel it." Barnaby said simply.

"What? Why?" Keith demanded. "You're a featured guest on 'This Morning' Friday."

"Cancel that too." Barnaby answered, walking outside and toward his illegally parked car.

"Okay, you're being a Diva again, but I will manage like I always do…" Keith chastised. "Hey, where are you going?"

"I'm going back to the hotel." Barnaby answered, waving nonchalantly.

"Which hotel?" Keith asked, shaking his head in frustration.

"The one with our cute little conjoined rooms…" Barnaby explained with a tight smile. "And then I'm calling the police to file the accident report."

"Okay, I'm coming with you. I'm going to be there… We should probably call your lawyer too…" Keith insisted, running after Barnaby. He ran his hand over the hideous dent in the side of Barnaby's car before opening the door. "Ooh, that's too bad, Barnaby…"

"I know. If I would've hit a woman, it would've been much smaller…" Barnaby mused.

"Oh my God! Barnaby! Don't!" Keith protested shaking his head in disbelief.

"I was taking the piss, lighten up…" Barnaby said, patting Keith's knee. "You're too much of a mug to work for me, Keith."

"I- I don't know what that means, Barnaby…" Keith said apologetically, buckling his seatbelt.

"Bloody Americans…" Barnaby muttered, shifting the car into drive.

"Good morning, Barnaby." Keith called out cheerfully, sitting down in the chair opposite of Barnaby. Keith eyed Barnaby in his robe and slippers and sighed, checking his cell phone for the time. "You remember the Tower meet and greet at noon right?"

"Yeah, yeah…. Shhhh, I'm on the phone…" Barnaby said, looking up at Keith thoughtfully. "I'm waiting for an English proficient receptionist…"

"Let me handle it." Keith insisted gesturing for the phone. "What do you need?"

"I've got it." Barnaby muttered, stabbing his fork into his pile of rice. "I'm buying drugs and I don't want to get you involved…"

"B-Barnaby!" Keith sputtered, leaning forward in his chair. "Hang up the dang phone!"

"Shhh…" Barnaby teased, smirking at Keith. "I'm on the phone."

"Hello. Nakamura Keiko, you have been transferred. How may I help you?"

"Hello," Barnaby said quietly, twirling his fork around his plate. He sifted through the sweet rice, skewering an omelet roll. "I was calling to check on a patient…"

"Do you have an admissions number?"

"Ah, yes, it's 69534…" Barnaby read aloud, chewing quietly.

"Oh, I'm very sorry, Sir, but that patient is no longer with us…" the woman said solemnly.

"What?" Barnaby nearly choked on his breakfast. He coughed into his hand, his feet sliding out from under him. He leaned forward, his hand gripping the edge of the table. "What do you mean? I don't understand?"

"He checked out this morning, 8 am." The woman explained. "My deepest apologies."

"Bloody hell…" Barnaby cursed. "I thought he died or something…"

"No, Sir. He has gone home." The woman said, her voice spread thin with irritation. "Thank you."

"Yeah, thanks, goodbye…" Barnaby said, hanging up the phone.

"Checking up on your roadkill?" Keith asked, his grey-blue eyes piercing into Barnaby.

"He's fine." Barnaby muttered. "He's already out of the hospital."

"Excellent. No reason to miss our flight Thursday now." Keith realized with a sigh. "I suppose it saves me a call."

"Oh no." Barnaby shook his head. "We aren't leaving Thursday."

"And why not?" Keith demanded in exasperation.

"I told you earlier that I liked it here." Barnaby said with a shrug. "I might look into getting a flat."

"I am not paid enough…" Keith complained. "Hurry up, get dressed. We've gotta get you good looking by 11."

"I'm already good looking." Barnaby snapped, pushing his plate away from him. "I'm tired of rice and eggs. Go get me a smoothie or something…"

"But you want to stay in Japan..." Keith shook his head. "You realize I'm going to quit on you, right?"

"Everyone does." Barnaby answered with a mischievous smile. "Except you, you would never leave me…"

"Get dressed." Keith ordered. "If you're not dressed when I get back…"

"Understood." Barnaby raised his hands peaceably.

"What's this even mean…" Kotetsu questioned, squinting at the cover of the CD. "Folie et Luxure… what is that?"

"I don't know, Papa… It doesn't matter. He's gonna be here soon!" Kaede squealed, tugging on her father and then, in realization, releasing him with a terrible expression. "Sorry, I forgot you were hurt Papa…"

""S'okay, Kaede," Kotetsu lied bravely, adjusting the covered brace around his abdomen. "You didn't hurt me."

"Madness and lust." The teenager in front of them muttered, turning around and looking Kotetsu up and down.

"E-Excuse me?" Kotetsu stammered, pulling Kaede against him unsurely.

"The name of the CD, Folie et Luxure, it means Madness and Lust." The girl explained, biting down on her lower lip pointedly. "You like BBJ, Ossan ?"

"I brought my daughter." Kotetsu explained, leaning against a support column.

"You've got a cool dad." The girl said, smiling widely at Kaede.

Kaede eyed Kotetsu, his face swollen and bruised. There were three staples along his hairline, just above his left ear. He smiled kindly, his hand, stitched between the thumb and pointer finger, ruffled her hair affectionately. She smiled back at the teenaged girl and nodded, "Hmm, Hmm… He's the best."

There was a great roar from the crowd and shrill female voices pierced the air. Kotetsu groaned and turned, watching as a fit, blonde twenty-something walked down the cleared off aisle. He was handsome, well-built, and his smile was friendly and approachable. He waved simply and, once he reached the autograph table, he turned around, leaning against the table and faced the crowd.

"Barnaby Brooks Jr. is here." Keith informed the excited crowd in perfect Japanese. "Please have your CDs open, and the sleeves ready to be signed. Barnaby will not be signing anything unofficial, I apologize for any inconvenience. Unfortunately, Barnaby will also be unable to accept homemade baked goods…"

"Oh, I thought he was the guy…" Kotetsu whispered to Kaede. Kaede looked up at her father and rolled her eyes.

"Pa-pa…" Kaede muttered scathingly. "No."

Kotetsu looked down at the CD cover and sighed. The cover art was a man's well developed chest and abdomen, with six polished, manicured woman's hands scratching sensually across his skin. Kotetsu looked down at his 9 year old daughter and shook his head. "What ever happened to Suzuki Fuku? Don't you like him anymore?"

"That's kid stuff, Papa." Kaede said simply, her nose upturned in the air. "I'm 9 years old."

"He's older than you…" Kotetsu argued, but his words were drowned out by the blaring music and crowd's screams.

Heavy, synth beats poured from the speakers as a dozen colored lights danced around the room. This time Barnaby Brooks Jr. was making his appearance. He ran down the aisle, his hands trailing along the row of fans without actually touching any of them. He ran around the table and waved, a wide grin across his handsome face.

"Wait a minute…" Kotetsu leaned forward, squinting at the young man as he sat down at the table. He felt his heart pound, felt his blood seeping into his cheeks. "That asshole!"

"Pa-pa?" Kaede turned around in surprise, her eyes widening in disbelief as her father nearly broke past the barricade.

"Hey, you!" Kotetsu shouted, pointing at Barnaby furiously. "I've got something to say to you!"

Barnaby looked up in surprise, a fat, silver Sharpie in his hand. Within a second his green eyes flashed with recognition. He grinned from ear to ear, nodding toward security dismissively. "Wait your turn. I wanna talk to you…"

"W-wait my turn?!" Kotetsu hissed, offended. His hand gripped at the collar of his shirt and for several seconds he stood there in shock. Kaede pulled at the sleeve of his shirt and he slowly unfroze, looking down at his daughter. "What's wrong, Kaede?"

"You just called BBJ a bad name." Kaede looked around at the other fans around them nervously. "What's going on, Papa?"

"Oh, I'll tell you…" Kotetsu barked. "That ass- Barnaby he's the one who hit me with his car last night! Completely fu- screwed up my bike!"

"BBJ hit you with his car?" the teen in front of Kaede asked.

"Yes, he did! And I, I hope I bled all over the inside of his car!" Kotetsu growled, his fingers digging painfully into his palms.

"Your dad is the coolest." The teen said to Kaede, shaking her head in disbelief. "Imagine what kind of exclusive stuff you would've gotten if he died…"

"I- That's- What…" Kotetsu began in incredulity.

"Don't worry, Papa." Kaede murmured, pressing her head against Kotetsu's sore stomach. "Let's just go. I don't want his autograph anymore…"

"But Kaede…" Kotetsu blurted out, reaching after the retreating Kaede quickly. "You were so excited. He's here now and the line's already moving…"

"I don't want to!" Kaede protested, struggling to free herself from Kotetsu's grip.

"Yes, you do…" Kotetsu insisted, pulling Kaede in front of him and securing her in place with his arms. He leaned her back, letting her head rest against his abdomen. "Kaede, Papa's okay… You don't need to be upset. I was in an accident but we still got to come here together today… Everything's okay."

"Okay." Kaede agreed quietly, looking up at Kotetsu with big, expressive eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, infinity." Kotetsu murmured, scooting forward in the line.

"Have your CD sleeves ready," Keith instructed as they approached the front of the line. Keith looked at Kotetsu and paled, his hand combing his sandy-blonde hair back. "Ah, you must Kaburagi Kotetsu…"

"I sure am." Kotetsu said, looking down at Kaede literally bouncing in excitement.

"If I could just get your contact information…" Keith suggested, pulling his cellphone out of his jeans pocket.

"I'mma leave all my contact information stamped on Pretty Boy's forehead." Kotetsu whispered, moving forward in the queue. "With my foot."

"He is going to pay for the bike…. And your hospital bill…" Keith explained quickly. "After he signs, would you mind-"

"Papa, it's our turn!" Kaede squealed, her hand clasping Kotetsu's tightly. She dragged him forward, her face lit up with excitement.

"Hello," Barnaby said, his Japanese heavily accented. He smiled charmingly, his lips pressing against Kaede's hand in greeting. "It's a pleasure to meet you…"

"Ehhhhh…" Kaede rumbled, her bottom lip pinched between her teeth. She looked down at her hand, her eyes burning into the spot where Barnaby's lips had been.

"I called the hospital. I was relieved to hear of your release." Barnaby said, bowing to Kotetsu politely. It seemed out of place on him and Kotetsu wasn't sure how to respond to the gesture.

"My 9 year old was left at home alone." Kotetsu snapped. "I had to beg them to release me."

"He'll pay those bills…" Keith said, leaning against the table.

"And what is your name, Princess?" Barnaby asked, his green eyes lifting toward Kotetsu's.

"My P-Papa calls me a P-Princess…" Kaede said, mesmerized.

"Princess…?" Barnaby questioned, grinning handsomely.

"K-Kaede…" Kaede answered, watching a translator write the name on a scrap piece of paper. "Yes, that's it."

"Beautiful name." Barnaby said sweetly, copying her name and signing his own beneath it. "Does Dad want a signed copy as well?" Barnaby looked up at Kotetsu.

"I want a new bike." Kotetsu said, tilting his head to the side. "The buses aren't running when I leave work."

"Should I leave now?" Barnaby asked, gesturing to the long line of waiting fans. "Or should you give Keith your contact information?" Barnaby handed Kotetsu a signed CD and tapped his Sharpie against the table. "I don't have a bike on me at the moment."

"Did you check under your car?" Kotetsu asked, grabbing the CD and stacking it with Kaede's. "I'd look there first."

Security gestured for Kotetsu and Kaede to step away and begrudgingly he followed instruction. The handsome, blonde assistant followed after them, his face tight with concern. "Hello, I'm Keith Goodman," Keith bowed politely, Kotetsu returning the gesture. "I am so sorry for any trouble that Barnaby has caused."

"Okay," Kotetsu took a sharp breath, his lungs straining painfully against his ribs. "My name is Kaburagi Kotetsu. Well, uh, Kaburagi is the family name, Kotetsu is my given name…" Kotetsu explained, watching Keith entering the details on his cellphone. "My email is- Say, how are you so good in Japanese?" Kotetsu asked suddenly. "You're American right?"

"Ah, yes, I'm American." Keith said, smiling confidently. "I am a certified Japanese translator, and I worked at the Japanese Embassy in Washington, DC."

"Oh, okay…" Kotetsu said simply. "And now you're that guy's… manager?"

"I'm his personal assistant." Keith said with a sigh, his eyes creasing in the corners. "His manager quit last week."

"Did he run him over too?" Kotetsu muttered.

Keith laughed genuinely, his large, firm hand lightly brushing against Kotetsu's shoulder. "No, no, just ran him off."

Keith took the rest of Kotetsu's details, and then, after apologizing a million times, handed Kaede an exclusive t-shirt, stationary set and poster. Kaede stared down at the –provocative art and Kotetsu could only shake his head. "He's a bit too sexy, isn't he? Doesn't he know kids listen to his music too?"

"Well, that's…" Keith blushed, rubbing the back of his head. "I don't think the majority of his fans understand what he's saying, ya know? His lyrics aren't for kids. His demographic is actually females 18-32."

"I can speak a little English." Kotetsu admitted. "But songs are usually too fast. I just get a few words here and there. But Kaede speaks English better than most Americans."

"That's good." Keith said, smiling politely down at the young girl. "Learn Mandarin and you are all set to conquer the world."

"Are we going to see Barnaby Brooks again?" Kaede asked, staring up at her father with starry eyes.

"Well, I don't know…" Kotetsu explained. "I'm sure his lawyers and assistants will handle it from here. He's a busy, important guy."

"Don't worry, Kaburagi-chan," Keith assured her softly. "You'll have access to the best goodies for as long as you're interested."

"Let's meet him now." Barnaby insisted, changing out of his getup and into more comfortable clothes.

"Your lawyer said to wait." Keith explained for the hundredth time. "There's quite a bit at stake here financially."

"I have money, I don't care about money…" Barnaby insisted.

"Listen, the press is starting to release the story," Keith continued. "This could be bad. No one likes foreigners coming into their country and running over their citizens."

"I didn't do it on purpose." Barnaby said firmly. He watched Keith silently for a long moment before pulling his shirt over his head. "I want to buy him a new bike as soon as possible."

"Let me go." Keith suggested. "My Japanese is better. I won't be recognized by screaming hordes of fans either…"

"You think he's cute." Barnaby said suddenly, a grin stretching across his face. "You've got the hots for Ojisan."

"Now you're just being ridiculous." Keith accused, folding his arms over his chest. A light pink stained his cheeks and ears and he cursed his fair skin.

"Is that your type Keith?" Barnaby pressed. "Is that why we could never work?"

"You and I couldn't work because there is no 'we'. Everything is you, you, you…" Keith snapped. "And for the record, he's not my type at all. He just happened to be handsome, yes, and he smelled amazing…"

"He is handsome." Barnaby agreed, subconsciously licking his lip. "And he is my type."

"And your type is anything with a pulse… or…?" Keith remarked dryly. "I'm not sure what your conquests have in common."

"Don't be mean." Barnaby said simply. "I like cougars. What do you call a male cougar anyway?"

"An old man." Keith answered with a shrug.

"Set up a meeting." Barnaby urged. "Somewhere nice but not too elitist. How about a reservation at Sushiryori Inose?'"

"Isn't that a bit touristy for a local?" Keith asked.

"It's the best, I'll fight you on that." Barnaby said, slipping his contacts out and placing them carefully in the case. He pushed his glasses on his face and sighed in relief, his eyes watering from the irritation.

"Once your lawyer arrives, I will set it up." Keith said stubbornly.

"Fine, fine," Barnaby pouted, falling back into the chair beside the desk. "If you won't let me go out, you can at least help me work on my Japanese…"

"Oh, right, I forgot, you want to live here now…" Keith muttered sitting on the edge of Barnaby's bed with a sigh. He rubbed his palms over his jeans and shook his head. "First thing's first. Your accent is terrible. Imagine you're speaking Spanish. Many of the pronunciations are the same, oddly enough. Can you roll your 'R's?"

"Teach me, Sensei…" Barnaby teased, leaning forward in the chair.

"Sit properly and pay attention." Keith instructed.

"Sit properly?" Barnaby whispered, tossing his legs over the arm of his chair. He settled down, letting his arms and head dangle over the other side. He looked up at Keith with blinking green eyes, his pale blonde hair falling back away from his face. His shirt slinked upward, exposing his muscled stomach. "Or what, Sensei?"

"Be serious." Keith muttered, shaking his head and diverting his eyes.

"What if I am being serious?" Barnaby asked, his hand roaming down his chest and toward his exposed stomach. His fingers dipped under the waistband of his jeans teasingly.

"You're not." Keith said simply, crossing his legs and clearing his throat. "We can work on your Japanese later, when you're in a less ornery mood."

"I'm fully capable of multi-tasking…" Barnaby said, unbuttoning his jeans. The fabric popped open audibly, his hand stroking the growing bulge pointedly. "So my pronunciation's terrible… How exactly do I go about fixing it?"

"Barnaby…" Keith turned his head, his pulse quickening. He felt like the air was being vacuumed from the room.

"Yes, Sensei?" Barnaby blinked innocently, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. His hand flexed over his clothed erection, his fingers tugging.

"Barnaby!" Keith reprimanded severely. His brows furrowed and his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "Stop messing with me."

"I'm not messing with you. You're a fit bloke." Barnaby explained, sitting up in the chair as if he hadn't been up to no-good. "I thought you might be up for a bit of 'How's your Father?'."

"Behave yourself." Keith said, pushing himself up from the bed. He walked past Barnaby and toward the door connecting their rooms. "Goodnight, Barnaby."

"Bloody bender." Barnaby groaned, standing up from the chair. "Do me a favor, would ya? Can you go down to the corner store and buy me some crisps?"

"Fine, just sit down and don't move." Keith agreed, sighing heavily. He checked his pockets for his wallet and phone and then turned to Barnaby before walking out the door. "I'm going to quit one day."

"I'm sorry for being cheeky." Barnaby said, plopping down in the middle of his bed. He covered his face with a long, thin arm. "You can't hate me, you're all I have, Keith…"

"I don't hate you." Keith said, opening the room door. "You just don't know any better."

"What's that mean?" Barnaby said as soon as the door closed. He took a deep breath and sighed, his eyes closing sleepily.