Author's Note: So I really love backstory and you're going to get a lot of that here. Also, as much as I really enjoy the aversion that Saitou & Shousha have towards each other, in this universe, I really enjoy their friendship. :3

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

Chapter Four

In which our hero reveals a part of his heart

Tokio stepped out of her compact sedan and stared, jaw slack, at the house before her. Perched high on a hill overlooking the outskirts of the city, it was an unusual design, with walls and rooms jutting out every which way. Giant glass panels made up the entire Western facade, no doubt so that its occupants would never miss a single sunset. The front door was a giant panel of what looked to be iron, but as she approached it, pulling out the keys she had been given, saw that it was a simple wood, painted with an incredibly convincing faux finish.

Hoisting her weekend bags up onto her shoulders, she adjusted her balance and turned the key in the first lock, then the deadbolt.

Inside, Saitou's ears focused on the sound of the key turning. He had personally dropped Okita and his wife off at the train station hours prior; it was unlikely that they had returned so soon, no matter the level of importance whatever-it-was that Shousha may have forgotten.

His fingers curled around the knife he had been using. He had deactivated the alarm, so any intruder would meet his own brand of swift justice rather than that of the police force.

When he heard the sound of bags being let down and a female sigh of relief, he relaxed his grip. When he heard Tokio's soft exclamations of "wow!", he placed the utensil back on the cutting board, and covered his face with his hands.

He should have known.

Though it lasted for only a second or two, her scream was loud and piercing when she saw him and he cringed outwardly, squeezing the knife in desperation for relief from the horrible noise.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her hand over her heart in an exercise to calm it.

Sliding the chunks of meat he had been cutting into a frying pan, he waited for the sizzle to die down before replying. There was no need to yell.

"Shousha asked me to watch the house for the weekend," he said simply, as if Tokio were a complete dolt for not realizing it before, "I'll make the assumption that Okita asked the same of you."

"So we've been set up."

It was a childish move on the part of their friends, but she supposed it could have been worse. In the days that had followed their kiss and then the awkward runaround that had promptly followed, their relationship hadn't changed much, but it had exactly returned to normal either. Saitou walked her home from work, they ate together, and enjoyed each other's company, but there was a decided aversion to any sort of physical contact, as if it would set off an explosive that would end them both.

Seeing as how he hardly seemed to be affected by their current situation, Tokio stood on her toes and wrinkled her nose as she watched him mix in cubed vegetables and what looked like tar, but may have been gravy. Despite the pleasant aroma wafting from the stovetop, it looked akin to garbage and she silently prayed he didn't plan on eating it in front of her.

"Let the dog in," he ordered, not facing her, "he can't be out in the dark."

"You aren't going to eat that, are you?"

She cooked well enough and would be happy to whip up something more appetizing. She also hoped he wasn't intending for her to join him in his culinary... masterpiece.

"The dog," he reminded her blandly, "the back hall, there's a set of French doors. He should be waiting. He's afraid to be out after sunset."

With a shrug, Tokio made her way to the back of the house and pulled open the doors. She didn't catch a glimpse of the canine, but felt his body bump against hers as he launched himself inside and tore down the hall, claws clicking and slipping against the stone tile before he regained his balance as he turned the corner and disappeared.

When she re-entered the kitchen, she hung back and watched as Saitou welcomed the beast (certainly it wasn't a wolf... was it?) with open arms and the playful teasing of his hands at the side of the dog's face, smiling as Ta-chan pranced about the kitchen, desperate to shower the man with affection.

Tokio had never seen him smile before.

Stepping into the room, she grinned at him, but his face returned to it's general look of boredom and he straightened, giving the dog a few calming pats. Sensing the newcomer, however, Ta-chan spun in place and bounded towards Tokio, lifting his front paws as he made an attempt to rise to her height.

She squeaked and skirted just out of his reach, but he jumped again, tail wagging and eyes bright.

"No, no no!" she cried, running around the island in the middle of the kitchen. She liked dogs, but this one was far too big for her taste and she would have no problem admitting that she was afraid for her life at that very moment.

"Cut it out!" Saitou barked after Tokio and Ta-chan's seventh lap around the counter. He snagged Ta-chan by the collar, ordering him to sit, and with his other hand on Tokio's shoulder, they faced each other.

"He just wants a bit of attention, so let him sniff you," he ordered, extending Tokio's arm towards the dog's nose.

"What if he bites me," she whined, backing up just a hair.

Saitou let out an annoyed huff. "The dog is afraid of the dark, Tokio He doesn't bite. Damned thing's useless."

There was a bit of fondness in his voice that told her he didn't find the dog useless at all, so she relaxed slightly, and with a hesitant and unsteady hand, allowed the beast to sniff her hand.

Immediately his tongue came out to lap at her fingers and he rose from his place, prancing and snorting for her to give him an ear scratch. With a warning from Saitou, he sat back down and thumped his tail furiously as Tokio grew braver in her exploration of his fur.

"See?" he said, "he's fine."

Tokio smiled and gave both of Ta-chan's ears a good scratching, laughing when the dog slipped on the kitchen floor and rolled over onto his back, inviting her in for a belly rub.

"Not now, Casanova," said the inspector, placing a silver dish into a tall stand by the refrigerator, "it's time to eat."

The idea of dinner trumped the affections of a lady, and with the grace of a newborn giraffe, Ta-chan scurried up to devour the meal that had been prepared for him. Tokio sighed in relief that the food hadn't been for humans after all.

"So then," she said, pulling out one of the stools at the island and perching herself on it, "did you have any dinner plans?"

Saitou paused, just ready to begin washing the dishes and turned to her, eyes narrowed. "That sounds marginally like an advance, Tokio."

"Well we were set up on a couple's weekend, weren't we?"

Annoyed, he shoved the pan into the soapy water and grabbed for a sponge, "Don't play into their nonsense. Can't you cook?"

"I can," she confirmed, sliding off the chair and pulling open the pantry, "but I don't really want to."

She pulled several takeout menus from a cork board on the inside of the door and waved them in the air. "My treat?"

He let out a grunt and shrugged, making a show of ignoring her, continuing on with the dishes. Taking his silent approval, she picked up the cordless phone and dialed in her order.

Through with the dishes, Saitou wiped his hand on a dishtowel and headed into the hallway, hauling her overnight bags onto his shoulder. Tokio peered over from where she had been doodling idly on her order list, surprised at the gesture.

"Do you need help?"

"Go upstairs," he commanded, "I'll show you to your room."

Not needing to be told twice, she began to climb the floating natural wood steps and marveled at the house some more. She'd love to meet whoever designed it. Perhaps she'd be able to grab an internship.

At the top of the steps, Saitou took the lead, heading to the right and down a long hallway before dropping her things and turning the knob of a frosted glass door. He flicked on the light and gestured for her to step in. Not giving him the time to help her, she snatched hold of her bags and dragged them across the wood, pushing them into the corner of the guest room with a heavy breath. Why didn't she have the ability to travel light?

"This house is huge," she gasped, "we must have passed at least six rooms on our way. How many bedrooms are there?"

"Five," he replied.

Tokio sat down on the bed, decked in a soft coral down comforter and smiled. "That's a lot of bedrooms for just two—well three people."

Saitou didn't seem to think so. "Okita's room, the kid's room, my room, and two guest rooms."

A small snort made its way through Tokio's nose. "You've claimed a room for yourself?" When his features were neither amused nor jesting, she furrowed her brow, "you actually have your own bedroom here?"

The doorbell rang, a pretty tune akin to that of a grandfather clock and Saitou moved out of the doorway to let her into the hallway.

Just before she reached the stairs, she noticed a photo on a decorative table, and crouched over to have a closer look. Delighted, she let out a laugh and pointed to it.

"I didn't realize you knew how to have fun!" she called out. Yet there he was, at the beach, buried up to his neck in the sand, next to Okita who was resigned to the same fate. Next to them, Shousha and a girl Tokio didn't recognize were posing with plastic beach shovels, all four of them laughing.

Coming up beside her, Saitou slammed the photo down, hiding it. He heard the glass shatter and cursed inwardly. He'd have to buy Shousha a new frame.

Tokio's smile faded and she straightened.

"Your ex?"

The tightening of his jaw confirmed it and she nodded, knowingly, and lowered her voice to an apologetic whisper.

"The ex."

He didn't reply, and she was glad for this. She had overstepped a boundary she hadn't even seen and wasn't very interested in starting this unexpected romantic getaway on the wrong foot. Then again, she wasn't sure if Saitou Hajime had a good foot to start out on in the first place.

Over dinner, she attempted to rectify her wrongdoing.

"So you've been friends with these two for quite some time then, haven't you?"

Saitou looked up from the soba he had been eating in a glowering silence.

"What makes you say that?"

Tokio inhaled slowly and carefully. "You were young in that photo. All of you."

Deciding that there was no point in hiding behind imaginary walls, Saitou set down his bowl. "We've been friends since I was eight. They were five years old, and pesky little trouble makers."

There was a sliver of humor in his voice, so she regained her cheeky smile. "I see not much has changed."

"Nothing," he agreed.

"So is that why you get your own bedroom here? You're grandfathered in?"

"The three of us were roommates for a long time," he said slowly, as if looking back on said time through his words, "ever since they graduated high school."

"I think I remember hearing something in the gossip rag," Tokio commented, condensing the takeout containers and gathering napkins and plastic utensils, an effort in cleaning up what they hadn't cooked. "Shousha got thrown out of her parents' house, right? Some big scandal or something."

Laughing, she wiped her hands together after throwing away the trash. "She's gotten herself mixed up in so much I just can't keep them straight anymore."

Saitou, however, wasn't laughing. "The details were never released," he snapped, "we worked hard to ensure what reputation she had left was safe from the media."

Tokio shrugged. "And you would have been twenty then. It's no wonder you picked up your smoking habit. How did someone like you manage to live with her?" She wet a cloth and started wiping down the table, continuing to ramble, "I mean, I see how she and Sou get along so well; they're adorable, but you just don't seem the type to want to deal with any bullshit."

"Tokio—"

"She's famous for her bullshit, Hajime. Lots of drama. I just... I think it's funny, that's all."

"You should really know a person before you start going off on such an ill-educated tirade, Takagi-san."

Though her back was to him, Tokio could feel the venom in his words and realized she had insulted him, and the integrity of what apparently was one of his good friends.

"I'm sorry," she said, not all that sorry at all, "I'm just going on what I've heard."

"What you've heard," he spat, "is the real bullshit."

She dropped the cloth in the sink and turned, gauging just how deep a hole she had been digging. He was ignoring her now, turning all of his attention towards the dog, so she took the opportunity to fire up a pot of coffee. When it was done, she slid it over to him, a truce.

"I didn't realize you were so close," she said quietly, "and it's wrong of me to gossip about a person who is letting me into their home."

She expected him to come back with something cold and nasty, but he didn't. He took up his mug and walked into the living room. He stared for a moment at the fireplace, and then at the giant wedding portrait above it. She followed him, of course, and after a few moments of silence, smiled.

"I don't think I've ever seen a happier couple."

"No," he murmured, "and it's not likely you will again."

She gave the photo another smile, then sat down on the couch, tucking her knees beneath her and cradling the coffee in her hands.

"You love them dearly, I can tell," she said softly, inhaling the sweet smell of the dark roast, "I think you care a lot more for people than you let on."

He rose to this, turning to her with a frown, and taking a seat next to her, never breaking eye contact. "Are you implying that I might care for you?"

"No," she replied truthfully, "I'm trying to know you."

Don't bother, he wanted to say, to send her away and not have to deal with opening up his heart to another human being, to another female. But she sat there so earnest and so casual, as if they had been lifelong friends, not a lawman and an exotic dancer.

Ta-chan ambled into the room then, tail wagging lowly, and he hopped up onto the couch between them, whining softly for attention. Tokio was the first to oblige, her fear of the dog waning, and scratched him behind the ears.

"So how exactly did they come across this guy?" she asked, her voice a full octave higher as it she were speaking to the wolf, and not Saitou, giving a harder scratch for emphasis. Ta-chan thumped his tail against the inspector's leg.

Saitou was less amused, watching the display with a frown.

"It was a fluke," he said, shrugging. "the zoo was having some trouble getting the mother to accept her litter. The pups were dying."

Tokio laughed, "Awwww, so you rescued him? Bought him for your friends?" She brought her face close to Ta-chan's ears and lowered her voice with a wide grin, "The inspector is secretly a softie, it seems."

"I bought him for Shousha," he corrected.

Tokio let out a little 'ooooh', and jokingly asked if perhaps he had been in competition with Okita for her affections. She had meant to lighten his mood, to provoke him into narrowing his eyes and looking over at her with disapproval for her antics. Instead, a dark shadow came over his face and the light in his narrow eyes dimmed.

She straightened, swallowed, and gave Ta-chan's head a soft stroke. His chin rested on her lap and his eyes were drifting to a close, completely content with the guest in his home.

"She needed to mother something."

Saitou's deep baritone came in a hesitant rumble, something Tokio had never heard before. The words he spoke confused her, and she furrowed her brow.

"What?"

"They were just kids," he told her, "but she—they had just lost their own child."

With clarity, she nodded, letting out another 'oh'. So that's why she was kicked out of Yamata house. She got pregnant.

Saitou set his jaw. "After she was released from the hospital, the three of us bought an apartment, in hopes that together we might. . .overcome the tragedy."

"It didn't work, did it?" she asked, having lost the taste for her coffee, but clinging to it still. "Something must have gone wrong if you started smoking."

And that he did. Lighting up a cigarette, he sighed. "I've always been the better head of our group. Okita likes to speak and act without thinking, and Shousha can't be controlled even in her weakest moments. Being twenty, I thought it my duty to take in my friends and shelter them from their own despair. I was young, and I was naive."

"You wanted to help your friends. I think that's admirable. Shousha was without a home and you took her in. That's—"

"She was not without a home," he snapped, his tone bitter and resentful, "her elder half-brother tried rather hard to take her into his custody."

Tokio's eyes widened in surprise, not being able to picture Okita fighting with anyone. "She has a brother?"

Saitou waved the notion away with his hand. "Katsura Kogoro. He's trouble, and not welcome in my home."

"The Katsura Kogoro?"

"Renowned Art Director, bastard son of Yamata Mori and douchebag extraordinaire," he drawled in return, "he only comes around to pick a fight with Sou. Shousha, of course, is a devoted sister."

"Well," Tokio breathed, "that seems like it would cause some problems."

Half of Saitou's face flickered upwards in a sardonic smirk. "He was the root of many for a very long time."

Sensing that the topic of Katsura Kogoro was a sensitive one and not something he was willing to talk about very much, she gave Ta-chan another pat.

"So Ta-chan helped them out?" she asked brightly, smiling because she didn't know what else to do. The conversation was heavy, but she didn't want to stray from it. If Hajime was going to open up to her, she was going to do little to stop him.

So badly he wanted to say 'yes' and leave it at that. With all things Tokio, however, his body, and mouth betrayed him.

He narrowed his eyes, staring up at the enormous wrapped canvas that hung above the fireplace, and as his friends of the present smiled down at him, he drifted off into the past.

When Shousha's parents had returned from vacation, they had not been pleased. Okita had made the mistake of honesty, of explaining his actions, the consequences and then begging their forgiveness. Instead of punishing him, they had thrown their daughter to the streets.

Useless slut! they had screamed at her, sending her off to whomever would take her in.

The Okita family had tried to shelter her for a time, but Okita Hana, Soushi's mother, was not yet done grieving for her murdered husband. The addition of her son's mourning, and his girlfriend's tantrums was strenuous, and though she said nothing, they all knew something had to be done.

Saitou himself was through with his home. His father's involvement in the syndicate contradicted everything he stood for. Having recently ended his relationship with Hiromu Fumiko, Hajime was looking forward to living on his own.

So, after a violent spat with Katsura (who suddenly saw the need to play the hero, giving the much younger Okita a beating in defense of his sister's 'honour'), Saitou packed them all up, and the three of them moved into a posh suite by the university.

He felt good, being able to care for his young friends who were not quite well at the moment. They were free from tyranny , free to pursue their own goals, and free from familial obligations. Saitou continued to attend university and after a semester of mourning, Okita tucked away his grief and moved on with his life.

Shousha did not.

It had been slight at first, small verbal jabs that the two men blamed on her sorrow. She had lost too much at too young an age. Naturally she wouldn't be right.

But then she began to change. She'd hole herself up for days, not eating, and not speaking. When Okita would try to comfort her, she'd spurn him. Then, she began to blame him.

He took all of this with a smile, assuring her that her heart would mend and she would be better soon. Soon came, went, came again, then left just as quickly, and she sunk deeper and deeper into the black hole of self-pity that was consuming her.

It wore on Okita. As much as he tried to hide it, after a lifetime of friendship, there was nothing he could hide from Saitou.

"I don't know what do do," he lamented one day, throwing his head in his hands, "I can't do this anymore, Hajime. I don't know what she needs me to be."

Saitou hadn't had an answer to that question, but that evening he overheard Shousha's furious screams as she hurled all the verbal abuse she could muster at her boyfriend. Everything was Soushi's fault! she had cried. He was heartless! How could he simply forget what he had lost? How could he move on as if everything was fine? She wasn't fine. He shouldn't be either.

The next afternoon, he didn't come home.

Nor the next.

Nor the next.

In fact, Okita had, without warning, removed himself from Shousha's life completely.

Saitou would never consider himself a sentimental man. He wouldn't even go so far as to say he was ever truly sympathetic. Shousha's episodes had him smoking two packs a day now and he found himself waiting until two, three in the morning when she finally exhausted herself to get any of his schoolwork done.

When she sought out her brother's help, things only became worse.

The first time was a time imprinted in his memory forever. A solid reminder of the test of friendship, and the fragility of those less capable than himself.

He had returned from visiting Okita who, despite his excellent marks in academics, was also still not quite himself. Separation from his woman, it seemed, was worse than her fits.

Shousha was standing at the landing, though whether she had just come from the loft, or intended to go up, Saitou would never know.

She was sweating, breathing heavily and not moving. She was surprised to see him, even if her expression didn't register the emotion. For a moment he stood before her, trying to figure out just why she was out of bed.

"Do you need something?" he asked, hoping she'd go back to her room and stay quiet for at least a few hours.

She didn't answer, but as she let out a small moan, her face lit up in a hollow grin and an orange pill bottle slipped from her grasp.

In a flash, his hand came around the back of her neck and he pushed her to the ground, shoving his fingers down her throat.

"You idiot," he growled, pulling the digits from her mouth and pulling back her hair as she began to wretch, heaving the pills up with each convulsion.

She gasped for air, she sobbed, and on the landing of the stairs, he held her.

"I want to die, Hajime," she whispered as his strong hand came to rest on the top of her head, pressing her against his solid chest.

"No you don't," he hissed, "you're eighteen. You've got plenty of years to make yourself useful to someone."

She said nothing, and even after he had cleaned her up, attempted to feed her, and put her to bed, he knew this wasn't the end, but the beginning.

"I don't remember how many times I've had to force drugs from her body," he sighed, resting his forearms on his knees and clasping his hands together before him. Tokio had long since stopped her commentary, and didn't even dare to blink.

"I can't count how many times I've come home to her unconscious in the shower, on the stairs, or in a corner. Katsura fed her addiction, but whether his heart bled for her plight or he intended for her to die, I don't care to know."

It was by chance he saw the news story of the wolf pups whose mother wouldn't accept them. They were weak, dying from malnourishment, and rejecting even the care of the zookeepers. Shousha was asleep on the couch, exhausted from an argument after Saitou had banished Katsura from the house.

He was desperate now. If there was anything that could turn her back into a semi-functioning human being, he was willing to take it. The next day, he headed to the zoo.

It was truly amazing how much money could buy a person, and the rules it was able to bend. With the small pup nestled in a plastic pet carrier, he returned home and prayed Shousha was still alive.

She was, but only just. Sedated by anti-anxiety medication, she gave him a lazy smile from her spot on the couch; a place she had not left in four days.

"I have a gift," he announced, pulling the puppy from the cage, and crouching before his friend, "he's about to die, so be useful and take care of him."

A smile turned into a yawn and she looked at the tiny wolf with interest, but said nothing otherwise. Saitou observed the two all night, pleased to note that she lifted her hand a few times to pet the creature.

The next day, she fed it, and it ate. The day after that, she managed to sit up, and spent a few minutes every couple of hours playing with it.

A week after the dog had come to the house, Saitou came home from the market to find Shousha was not on the couch. The dog was curled up in her spot, little legs moving with its dreams. There was a bottle of pills on the coffee table, but when he picked it up, he saw that it was full. It had been full for days.

"I've decided to call him Ta-chan."

Saitou's gaze moved to the hall where she stood in fresh pajamas, her hair still damp. She had showered on her own.

"Ta-chan." A stupid name for a dog.

"After Sou," she said weakly, giving him a hopeless grin. "You know, like, O-ki-ta. Ta. Ta-chan."

Saitou inhaled deeply, taking in the memories that he had shared with absolutely no one up until now.

"Everything improved after that," he said, picking up the coffee and leaning back. "She made peace with herself, and then with Okita. When he moved back in, she sent herself off to rehab and he proposed." He slid his eyes over to her, "I believe you know the rest."

"Is she the other one then?" she wondered, tilting her head to the side.

"The other what?"

"The other woman," Tokio repeated, "that you respect. Is it Shousha?"

"Would it surprise you?" he asked.

But she shook her head lightly, stretching to place her mug down on the coffee table. "No, not now that I know what you've all been through. It takes a great deal of strength for anyone to overcome something of that nature. I can only imagine how difficult it was for someone like her to accept help doing so."

"Forcing someone to survive is hardly help," he drawled, watching as she rose from her place.

"Maybe so," she agreed softly, lowering herself to straddle his thighs, "but I think you are the most remarkable man I've ever met."

Her hands were on the sides of his face, gently lifting his chin, coaxing him to look at her. She'd never been so bold with him and she bit down on her lip, hoping he wouldn't reject her.

"Hardly," came his dry response, voice deepened by her contact.

The moon has risen and Tokio's face glowed in the light that spilled over from the kitchen. "How can you be so arrogant and so humble?"

Enjoying the weight of her body on his, he gave her a wolfish grin and allowed his hands to travel up her sides, tickling her slightly, then tugging the elastic out of her hair and watching her inky curls fall around her shoulders.

"It is one of my many talents," he replied haughtily, tracing the outline of her jaw, and running his thumb along her bottom lip, taking pleasure in the way it trembled at his touch.

"I am not a threat," he told her sternly, "nor am I safe, so you'll do well to stop assuming otherwise."

Her heart raced at his forceful words, determined to put her in her place. No, he knew it was a futile attempt, and that was why he did it. She would resist him, she would push back, challenge him.

"If you want me," she whispered, leaning towards him and teasing his lips with her breath, "then claim me."

Saitou needed no persuasion. A gentle tug on the back of her neck closed the distance between them and it was just as glorious as he remembered. She was sweet, like honey, and the way she touched him, exploring his facial structure as if he were made of glass and might shatter beneath her fingers captivated him in a way Fumiko never had.

Taking his bottom lip between her teeth, she nibbled on the sensitive flesh, but before she had the chance to overtake him completely, he nudged Ta-chan off the couch with an inaudible grumble, and flipped her onto her back, hovering over her small frame. He captured her mouth again, dominating her this time and pressing his hips against her own, a silent show of his desire.

Her hands moved from his face to his chest, where her fingers traveled upwards and over his shoulders, leaving scorching pins and needles in their wake. He pulled away from her slightly, meaning to move his affection to the exposed flesh left by her v-neck sweater and push-up bra, but she was an aggressive woman, and twisting his necktie, she pulled without mercy, forcing him back down to her mouth.

He obeyed, but only momentarily. As soon as he thrust his tongue between her teeth, giving her what she wanted, he took hold of her arms and pushed them up above her head, using one hand to pin her wrists together. She'd have no more control here.

"You are mine," he growled lowly, nipping at the underside of her jaw, "you have always been mine. You will always be mine."

When she moaned his name, it echoed in the vaulted ceilings and he did all he could to suppress his laughter. Tokio could feel him chuckling against her pulse as he kissed it, and she sat up with a scowl.

"What's so funny?" she demanded, pouting, then letting out a sharp shriek as Ta-chan bounded over and began to lick at her face, waking her from the lust filled euphoria she had settled into.

Saitou lifted himself from her body, taking hold of her arm and yanking her to a sitting position. He lit another cigarette and inhaled, smiling to himself. She had an expression on her face that was truly priceless. Disbelief and desperation were firmly etched into her features as she silently begged him to continue what he had been doing.

He, of course, was above such things, and she wondered if he lived life simply to torment her.

"It's getting late," he stated, "we should get to bed."

Tokio let out an indignant huff, throwing her feet up onto the table in protest. "I am not going to sleep with you, Hajime."

That in itself was a lie. In the state he had put her in, she'd have him naked right here in the parlor where the walls were made of glass and anyone could happen by. She'd pitch herself over the kitchen counter, or, if he wanted, shove him down to the carpet and claim him as her own.

She'd never let on, of course.

At this, Saitou raised one of his eyebrows. "Really now?"

"Of course not!" she shot back, "Do you really think I'm the type of girl who would shag a man on a first date?"

"I think you're the type of girl who takes her clothes off for a living," he replied, his tone smug and satisfactory.

She pursed her lips, unappreciative of the low blow. "Alright then," she said resolutely, "then do you think I'm the type of girl who would sleep with a man simply because our friends set it up to happen?"

He smiled and extinguished his smoke into his ashtray.

"Of course not. In fact, I'd be terribly disappointed if you did."

xxxx

Author's Notes: Okay, so he wouldn't be totally disappointed if she decided to get it on with him ;)

Companion fics to this chapter are:

Love, Loss, Hope, Repeat (in which you'll learn a little more about Saitou's friendship with O/S and what led them to be roommates)

Homecoming (in which you get to see what Okita & Shousha are up to while Saitou & Tokio house sit :D)