Author's Notes: Yes, if the title and summary didn’t clue you off, this story will contain Yaoi, or male/male slash. If you don’t like the idea of two men getting together, I’ll respect that you don‘t, so please respect the fact that I do. Please, review responsibly. Comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. ^_^
I’ll admit, this is a rare pairing. But a challenge is a challenge. I dedicate this to Shigure (aka Krillan), who gave me the idea, and who will probably never read this.
DISCLAIMER: The characters Steve Fox and Hwoarang are not mine; they belong to a powerful Japanese company (Namco) that could easily crush an insignificant paradigm of a writer if they pleased.
A Case of You
"The distance is nothing; it's only the first step that is difficult."
-- Madame Du Deffand
Hwoarang groaned as he woke up. He tried to think what happened after he left his place the night before, but the entire night was a blank. At least he made it back to his…ok; at least he was in someone's room, and not left unconscious outside of some bar. The room he was in was empty, and since he wasn't naked he figured nothing happened that he'd need to worry about.
"Today's looking to be a wonderful," he turned his head to look at the clock on the nightstand. It was three in the afternoon. “Evening.” He groaned as he crawled out of bed. His head was killing him. He quickly searched his pockets. Empty. He grabbed his leather jacket, on the floor by the window. He quickly found his wallet; money, keys, ID cards, half empty box of cigarettes, and a matchbook cover with a scribbled phone number. Everything that he had when he left his place the night before.
“I didn’t steal anything, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
“Damn, still here.” Hwoarang cursed in his mind. He didn’t know what pissed him off more. That he got so wasted the other night that he blacked out, that he ended up going home with some guy or the amused sound in the guy’s voice when he spoke. He man spoke with an accent, British or Australian, he could never tell the difference. To him, an accent was an accent, he didn’t have much time to pinpoint every accent he’s ever heard, especially since that the majority of the people in the tournament were from other countries, including himself.
“You look more in good health, mate.” The man said as he exited the bathroom. “All right then?”
“You’re in the tournament.” was all he could manage to say as he turned around.
“You’re in the tournament, Hwoarang.” the man replied in an almost teasing manner. “Moreover, we already discussed that the night before.”
Hwoarang scoured his brain. After the plane landed, he went to the hotel, registered for the tournament, left the hotel, and headed to the bar. He remembered that a lot of people from the tournament were there at the bar that night. He remembered seeing the tall blond man who was standing in front of him, but couldn’t remember talking to him.
"Not mine." Hwoarang stated as he glared at the bartender.
"It's for you." The woman answered merrily as she pointed in the direction of one of the patrons of the bar, a tall guy in a hooded jacket that looked a little too familiar.
"I don't want it." He answered forcefully as he pressed the drink back towards her.
"Oh?" She smirked as she leaned towards him. "I thought you came in here to get drunk. Besides, you look like the type that would appreciate free drinks."
"I don't want the person attached to the drink." Hwoarang replied offhandedly. "Is he looking?"
The bartender shook her head, after ordering his drinks the hooded guy had made a quick exit. Hwoarang smiled and quickly swallowed the drink, choking loudly on the strong alcohol.
"Good?" she enquired with a wink.
"I'll take another one of those." Hwoarang answered with a mischievous smile as he placed a few bills onto the bar.
“You got rather smashed the other night. You made quite a spectacle of yourself, and picked a couple of fights as well.” the man explained as Hwoarang sat down on the large bed.
“Did I win?”
The blond shook his head. “For the most part the whole lot ignored you, didn’t want to risk disqualification before the tournament. Except for one bloke, he was rather close to accepting your challenges, by then you were so drunk that you simply blacked out before the fight began.”
Hwoarang shrugged his shoulders dismissively as he pulled out a cigarette. “So, you took me back to the hotel.”
“By then, the general consensus was to just leave you on the bar floor. But yes, I took you back to the hotel.”
Hwoarang nodded. “Got a match?” he asked as he placed the cigarette between his lips.
“Here.” he said as he tossed a lighter towards Hwoarang, who caught it, lit the cigarette, and placed the lighter in his pocket.
“So, why in the hell did you?”
“Well, before you turned violent, you were rather friendly towards me.”
Hwoarang didn’t like the way he had said “rather friendly.”
“What the hell was that supposed to mean?” Hwoarang asked, his voice rising with each word.
“Nothing. Since you don’t remember what happened.”
Hwoarang really didn’t like the way he said that.
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