Scenes of a Street-Lit AU
A/N - Little drabbles sketching a modern-day Kenshin/Sano AU.
Disclaimer - I don't own any of the canon settings, situations or characters.

They met – it doesn't matter where or how – but Sano, drunk and belligerent, crashed his way into a fight, into the course of Kenshin's life. Kenshin hadn't needed his assistance – Kenshin never needed Sano's assistance – but Sano forced it on him anyway.

Sano took him home – though by the end of the journey, it was Kenshin supporting him rather than the other way around – and bullied him into staying.

They live in downtown Tokyo in a tiny apartment crowded by noisy neighbours and the bustling sounds of the streets. Most nights, Sano sleeps on the ancient futon and Kenshin sleeps propped up, back against the wall, sword in hand.

Kenshin is a supremely light sleeper. If he has nightmares, he refuses to speak of them.

Sano doesn't push. He has nightmares enough of his own.

Sano drinks.

Kenshin says that sake lost its savour long ago.

Sano gambles, restless, not caring that he's blowing the entire next month's rent.

Kenshin never blames him. Money is easy to come by.

There is always another job.

It's Sano's idea to go into business together. He advertises them as fighters for hire, bodyguards and vigilantes as needed. He takes the lead on most of their jobs, because Sano is a fighter, a brawler, a knuckle-cracking enforcer – and Kenshin is none of these things.

Kenshin is not a street-fighter, or a knee-breaker, or even a general thug.

Kenshin is an assassin.

In their occasional bouts of rough-housing, Sano generally manages to overpower him. Kenshin has some open hand techniques, but is primarily a swordsman; the usual outcome is Sano using his greater height and weight to manhandle Kenshin and sit on him until he sees sense.

He can't shake the feeling that Kenshin is indulging him. Kenshin's sense of self is terrifying; his quiet, soft-spoken strength of will could shake the very foundations of the earth.

Nobody forces Kenshin into anything against his will.

They fuck, sometimes.

When the drink gets to Sano, or a desire for human warmth and companionship or some other motive he doesn't care to examine too closely, they end up tearing at each other, fumbling awkwardly at their clothes and stumbling through their shitty apartment to the lumpy futon, where they – well. He certainly can't call it making love – he has no comparison for that – and mostly it's Sano with his eyes shut, breathing in Kenshin's scent, and Kenshin clenching his hand with surprising strength in Sano's hair.

In the mornings, they go about their business as if nothing ever happened.