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Five Nights In Heaven

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You wouldn't know that Toki was a menace in bed to look at him; but that, like many other things to do with Toki, was part of the deception.

A wiser man would have shut the door that first night. Shamon and Kuchiha could have handled another boarder. Instead, Kon woke that first morning and it figured, after he had been kind enough to invite a guest into his (admittedly small) house: Toki had managed to sprawl himself across both futons, kick off all the blankets, hoard both pillows to himself, and herd Kon into a corner of the comparatively uncomfortable floor, without once opening his eyes.

Kon struggled through the motions - pushing away a wandering hand, stepping carefully toward the door and, on second thought, stepping carefully back to rearrange Toki's legs so that they weren't spread for the world to see. Then, after a pause to reconsider his strategy, he stomped the last few steps to the door and looked over his shoulder for a reaction.

Toki snuffled, rolled fully onto Kon's futon, and slept on.

"I see. The problem with strays, you know," Shamon said, scratching his chin with the sort of drunken thoughtfulness that usually preceded something Kon didn't want to hear, "is that once you invite one in to stay, you have advertised your vacancy, so to speak. It never stops at one."

Shamon smiled fondly off into the distance. Kon dismissed it as sentimentality.

A few nights later, Kon gained a second bedmate.

Kon noticed nothing amiss when he woke up and stumbled through his new morning routine - first he (gently) removed Toki's hand from its loose grip on his hair, then he yawned, stretched, and took stock of the state he had found himself in during the night. He almost missed her, except it seemed strange that he was in his own bed, covered by his own blankets, and when he looked closer he noticed the head of dark hair on the other side of Toki's futon. She was curled up in the space left after Toki had comfortably rearranged himself and kicked off the blankets.

Kon left quietly, not sure whether to be amused or annoyed; she was gone when he returned.

Toki fell asleep on his stomach, innocently enough, but Kon knew better, and when he woke in the night with two legs tangled around one of his own and someone drooling on his chest, he was barely surprised. Kuchiha was opposite him, cheek pressed against the back of Toki's neck, the rest of her body hidden beneath a pile of every last one of their blankets.

Kon shifted. Toki balled the hand on his chest into a fist and punched him with all the force and coordination of a sleeping person, and then he started to snore. It was an annoyingly contended snore.

Kon grumbled a little, but their shallow breathing quickly dragged him under.

Kuchiha came and went in silence and in secret, until the night Toki rolled away from the futon and into the doorway (which was bound to happen eventually; Kon had, by that point, made his peace with the fact that Toki would eventually work his way through every possible - and occasionally impossible - awkward or dangerous sleeping position, and that it was only a matter of time before someone made a wrong step). She fell hard across Kon's legs and rolled off to the side, holding her breath.

"I thought dogs could see in the dark," Kon greeted, in the lazy tone that usually got the best reaction out of her.

Kuchiha let out her breath in a growl. Success.

"Relax. I sleep light, but it would take more than that to wake him up."

Kuchiha held her tongue. Kon could hear her, fumbling around and patting the bed with both hands, and he watched the vague outline of her hand connect with the vague outline of a foot. Toki laughed sleepily and rolled away, taking the blankets with him. "Shut up," she grumbled, and slipped into the spot Toki had left, still warm - Kon knew from experience - from his body-heat.

"Predictable," Kon said, needling.

Toki rolled to face Kuchiha, as if giving Kon the cold shoulder.

"Go back to sleep."

"You found a new comfortable spot. I should have known."

"It's none of your business!"

"Don't blame you. Except on cold nights. He likes to hog the covers."

Kuchiha made a noise of agreement, then lapsed into a long pause. "I'm not here to talk to you."

"Of course not."

Kon waited until her breathing shallowed, enjoying the simple pleasures of his crowded home: the square of slightly-less-black night through the nearby window; the pleasant burn of stretching and curling away from the breeze that wafted in beneath the door; the distant sounds of people settling down for bed. Things he was going to miss if he provoked her.

"Bet he would scratch behind your ears if you woke him up."

Kuchiha's breath snagged. "...Do you ever shut up?"

"Sometimes." Kon sought her out in the dark. One of Toki's hands had found its way to her stomach; Kon was equal parts impressed and concerned for Toki's well-being. "But right now, I feel like talking."

"I could save you the trouble," she said, smooth as you please.

Kon took his time answering; first he stretched his arms, folded them behind his head, and made himself more comfortable. "Well, yeah, but I figure you're not so paranoid that you would bring your sword to bed. That gives me a few minutes before you find it."

"Who said anything about needing a sword." Her tone was silky, but it lacked conviction, drifting on the edge of sleep. "Quiet."

"Sounds dirty." Kon waggled his eyebrows into the darkness.


Kuchiha froze, one knee tucked up to spring and weight balanced on her elbows, a hairsbreadth away from Toki. Kon froze, startled out of his thoughts - the distance to the door from his futon, the number of seconds it would take for her to incapacitate him, maybe she had brought her sword to bed because that shadow near her hand looked awfully sword-shaped - by the noise. For a moment the room was completely silent.

Toki yawned. "Shinonome?"

"Toki," Kon said, in as casual a tone as he could manage. "We have a guest. Hope you don't mind."

Toki mumbled something, far too cheerful for the time of night. He patted Kuchiha's stomach with the hand that had, at some point, moved dangerously close to her breasts. "Morning, Heihachi."


"...You're not-- Kuchiha?" Toki drew his hand back as an afterthought.

"You-- That's-- I'll leave you to your perversions--"

"Why are you here?" Toki flailed in the darkness.

"While we're all present and awake," Kon began, followed shortly by the uncomfortable feeling that all the tension in the room was now focused on him, and that Kuchiha might strike through the darkness at any moment to put him out of his misery, "you were the one sneaking around while we were asleep and helpless to defend ourselves. I wonder who the real pervert is."

"Did something happen--" There was an edge of hysteria in Toki's voice.

Kuchiha pounced.

Kon was starting to notice little things. Nothing that would be useful beyond the bedroom, unfortunately, but things that seemed grand and important and life-changing around the dead of night, when the distant sounds of people and movement trickled to a stop and everything settled into one shade of black; when he might have been back in his own bedroom, waiting for another morning of hell-raising and school-skipping.

Except back home had never been this quiet or calm or uniformly asleep.

Sometimes, being awake only gave him reason to reflect on his years of misplaced time, but for the most part he was lucky. Toki divided the night between short bursts of restless activity and slightly longer periods of calm. Kuchiha, when she forgot that she wasn't there for him, was softer in sleep and slipped easily into the space around and between them. The night was another world entirely, one that he was still learning.

"You know," Kon said, mind drifting and hazy. Toki snored on, and Kuchiha moved restlessly in her sleep - but that was okay, because he hadn't expected a response.

He listened until her breathing evened and fell into sync with Toki's light snoring, and he tried to match his own breathing to theirs, and he closed his eyes.