Go's voice seemed to be coming out of the bottom of a cave.

"Chief, I've brought you some tea."

Chujo stirred in his bed, squirming to the surface in order for his vision to connect with the clock. Upon seeing it was about ten in the morning, he pulled himself up, declaring the time reasonable.

"Mm, all right…" His head throbbed suddenly, and Chujo cringed. Where the hell did this come from all of a sudden? Fragmented memories of being in a bar with the rest of the IPO seemed to spray back at him. And then something about Go being on the other side of the bed…

The effeminate professor holding a tray of teacups at his side seemed alarmed for a moment. "Chief, are you okay?"

"Did I…" He put a hand to his head. "…Did I get drunk last night?"

"A few of us did." Go pressed the tray towards him a little more. "Here, it's ginger tea. It's good for nausea."

Chujo tried drinking it, avoiding the act of scrunching his face up in disgust. "It's not working."

"It worked for me…" Go turned away, blighted, and flipped out his fan. It was this minor act of nervousness that Chujo always found fascinating. He fumbled at the nightstand, searching for his glasses and fitting them back on his face. He looked down and discovered with mild annoyance that he was naked. Go still wasn't looking at him.

"Go, right now you'd be a bigger help if you found my shirt."

The professor proceeded to search the room, his heavy, butterfly-like garb flowing around him. Go retrieved the shirt – which somehow ended up on the light fixture across the room – and brought it back.

"I think you left your pants in the hall. Let me check…"

"No, wait, just…" Chujo attempted to button the shirt up, but his fingers felt they had been individually beaten with a stapler. He hissed and quit the attempt.

"Chief, are you—"

"Do these up for me. I…" He suddenly wanted to crawl under the bed and never come out. A longer memory had just come back, involving Go hiding behind a potted plant and giggling while Chujo ran around the living room pantsless.

Go leaned over the bed and begun doing up the top buttons at a high speed. Trying to reach the following buttons, Go got on his knees on the bed, bending sideways over Chujo's legs. Chujo found it mesmerizing.

"Is there anyway you could go slower?"

"I thought you didn't like going slow," Go said, deadpan, his hands losing speed. The meaning of that statement hit Chujo in the face a moment later.


A smile twitched Go's lips for less than a second. "Here, I'm almost done."

His head moved down, Go's hair ornament threatening to connect with Chujo's face. He would've complained if not for the gentle, pale hands moving down his shirt.

"We slept together, didn't we?" He asked after a moment.

Go looked up, his face fixed in an unidentifiable emotion. "Of course."

Chujo stared back at him, contemplating whether to tell Go to make breakfast or get his pants. Ignoring either one, he threw his arms around Go and hurled him onto the other side of the bed, causing Go make a bizarre squeak in transit.

"Now…" Chujo murmured. "…Why don't we pick up where we left off?"

"Chief, Ginrei's coming over in an hour!" But he didn't leave.

"This shouldn't take more than an hour." Chujo moved closer to the side. Go smiled, sliding his hand up to the side of Chujo's face.

"I didn't need to do up your shirt then, didn't I."

"It's your fault for doing it so well."