"They really got arrested?" Birman wiggled her freshly painted pink toenails against the lacquered table.

"They really did," Manx sighed, flopping down on the couch and letting the phone fall onto the cushions beside her. "The morons."

Birman giggled. "Don't tell me you're not amused by it in the slightest? It wasn't anything serious, was it?" She knew it couldn't have been. If it was anything serious, Manx never would have taken the phone call. The kittens all knew the rules; fuck up and you're dead. And knowing her, Manx had known what had happened long before Balinese had called for help.

"Just Fujimiya deciding that Kudou needed an ass kicking in front the Magic Bus."

"Poor Yotan," Birman murmured. "He sure seems to be taking it up the ass lately." She winked.

Manx grinned. "Yeah."

Birman twisted the cap onto the nail polish bottle. They'd long suspected something had been going on between the two oldest members of their team of pet assassins. They had no real proof, but their own intuition was enough. They both saw the way Youji looked at Ran when he thought no one was watching during mission briefings. And there had been that report after the last mission, where Omi had implied that Aya and Youji both seemed weird after taking down the target in the bar.

And from the way Manx told it, the glares that Balinese had been doling out the night Abyssinnian had left would have made the redhead proud.

"So," Birman stretched languidly, her pink flannel pajama bottoms rustling against the couch, her matching tank top shifting slightly and revealing smooth skin and a hint of breast before it all resettled. "What's the plan for the night?" She had an idea of what she wanted to do, but Hanae seemed wound tighter than a top. More responsibility had fallen onto them since the disaster of the Takatori take down, and her redheaded partner seemed to take most of it upon herself.

Manx sighed. "I need to call Bombay. He's probably panicked by now."

"'Feh." Birman snorted. "Sweetie, that kid's seen and done more than we ever will. He's probably thinking that Youji ran off to get drunk and wondering how he can seduce poor KenKen."

Manx raised an eyebrow. "Are we talking about the same Omi?"

"You're right," Birman smirked. "He's probably trying to figure out how to seduce that boy from Schwartz."

Manx rolled her eyes and pressed the speed dial for the house line at the koneko while she propped her feet up on the coffee table. Birman waited a beat, making sure her nails were good and dry before taking hold of Hanae's ankles and spinning her around. She settled Manx's calves atop her flannel covered legs and stripped off the white socks, tossing them over the edge of the couch.

"Bombay, we have a situation," Manx was saying. Birman ran one pink fingernail along the bare arch of Manx's foot. The redhead shot her a look, jerking her foot away. Birman repeated the motion on the opposite foot before settling in to massage them in earnest.

She idly wondered why Manx would never let her paint her nails.

"Youji and Aya are fine. They're in police custody for the night - You will NOT!" Manx's voice rose.

Birman pulled her hand away from the bottle of polish she'd just set aside, not sure who was being yelled at. She let her hands move up to Manx's ankles, noticing the slight reduction in tension in the other woman's body, the gentle slump of shoulders. Perfect.

"Let them stew, Bombay. They deserve it."

Slowly, Birman massaged her way up Manx's calves, her touches turning lighter as she approached pale knees. She loved Hanae's legs, pale and long and perfect. She'd spent hours mapping out the places that would make the other woman squirm, and despite the fact she was on the phone with the baby of the assassin family, Birman was determined to make Manx relax and feel good for awhile. She was going to be pissed off come morning when she had to get the two hotheaded idiots out of jail.

Using her fingernails and the pads of her fingers, Birman traced out light patterns on the back of Manx's knees, grinning at the small catch of breath in Manx's throat.

"Yes, Omi, I'm fine," Hanae ground out through clenched teeth.

There were days when Birman totally got off on the fact that Hanae never wore pantyhose. With a miniskirt. It was definitely one of those days. Her hands drifted over Manx's thighs, all toned muscle from hours of kickboxing training. Sure, they carried guns, but girls needed to be able to protect themselves.

"Bombay, you will not make any attempt to break them out of jail, is that clear?"

Birman wondered if the kid heard the soft change in Hanae's voice as one of her hands slipped under the micromini red skirt Manx wore when she was in her 'I'm in charge' mode. She looked up at the redhead with an malicious, yet playful grin.

Manx was wearing a thong. Sleeping in had its disadvantages. Oh well, Birman mused. She didn't get to see Hanae put it on, but she could certainly help take it off. Or work around it.

She shifted on the couch, easily sliding out from under Manx's legs and coming to rest between them, her knees nudging Hanae's unprotesting thighs apart far enough for her to kneel between them.

"Birman and I will retrieve them in the morning."

The brunette unhooked the buttons on Manx's jacket, revealing the cropped black tank top she wore underneath. She pressed her lips to the soft smooth skin just above the silver ring through Hanae's navel, her hands once again slipping under the short skirt that had ridden even further up.

"No," Manx faintly squeaked when Birman's fingers slipped under the waistband of her panties. "No," she repeated a little more steadily. "I don't have any details for you at the moment, Bombay."

Birman lightly raked her nails through the coarse hair covering Hanae's mound at the same moment her mouth descended on the tempting navel ring. She slipped one finger down, tracing Hanae's shape, feeling slick dampness coat the pad of her finger as she drew down through the curls. Manx's eyes fluttered closed and her free hand, the one not clenching the phone so tight her knuckles were turning white, carded through Birman's shaggy pageboy.

She drew in a shaky breath. "I will call you with any news if we get it, Bombay. Do not do anything stupid."

Birman looked up with an evil grin on her face, releasing the ring after tugging it lightly with her teeth. Her finger continued to tease her lover, dipping just inside her wet passage and drawing the moisture out and spreading it up towards her clitoris, her other hand tracing circles over her pale stomach, moving slowly toward the hem of her shirt.

Hanae didn't conceal the quiet moan that Birman coaxed out of her by sliding one hand up under the tank top and cupping a large breast through another layer of fabric. At the same moment she shuddered when Birman pressed a finger fully inside her, stifling another moan when Birman withdrew her finger and started tracing ever shrinking circles around her clit again, before dipping back down for another thrust.

"Mmhmm," Manx covered another moan with a soft noise that was probably meant to convince Omi she was listening. Quickly, Birman unfastened the buttons on Hanae's tank top while dropping wet, open mouthed kisses to her belly. Hanae was wearing one of those bras that had the clasp in the font, Birman discovered, when her fingers danced over the top of it. Deftly, she unhooked the clasp and Hanae's soft pale breasts tumbled free, pink nipples hard from the cool air and Birman's stimulation.

Birman's lips moved to Hanae's breasts, first kissing the soft skin between them, then moving her attention to her nipples, laving first one, then the other, as her finger continued to flutter over her sex.

"Yes, I'm fine," Manx said again, the last word squeaking a little as she began to squirm as Birman assaulted her with mouth and finger. "I'll be in touch, Bombay." Hanae pulled the phone away from her ear and pressed the off button before dropping on the floor.

Birman slipped a second finger into Hanae's slick warmth, using her pinky and index finger to part her folds so she could get to her clit with her thumb.

"Oh, god," Hanae sighed as Birman pressed down in a circular motion with her thumb, the tips of her fingers curling up inside her lover, searching out for that spot she knew was lurking right -

"Kyoko!"

There. "Yes, dear?" Birman smiled up at Hanae, soaking up the debauched look of the woman who was normally so composed. Bright spots of color glowed on her normally pale cheeks, blue eyes dilated under lust heavy lashes. She loved seeing Manx this way, free of responsibility, letting herself feel and live and be. Manx was gone; Hanae was in charge.

Hanae surged up suddenly, capturing Birman's lips for their first kiss of the night. The brunette altered her angle slightly to keep up the kiss and her gentle stroke at the same time, reveling in the plaintive noises emanating from Hanae's throat.

Slowly, she slid her fingers out, establishing a lazy rhythm as she finger fucked the redhead. Birman's thumb stroked into counter time over Hanae's clit, red draped hips moving in synch to the brunette's rhythm. Birman lingered over Hanae's smooth flat belly, kissing whatever skin she could reach while keeping her fingers moving and mostly inside the squirming woman.

Birman felt fingers spasmodically twist and twine in her hair, heard Hanae making random noises and whispering nonsense as Birman slowly tortured her. Hanae drew her legs up slightly, pressing her knees into the small of Birman's back and letting her thighs fall farther apart, rolling her hips in an effort to make Birman speed things up.

"So wanton," Birman muttered against Hanae's belly before taking the navel ring into her mouth with a sharp tug. Hanae gasped and arched up, the tug sending ripples straight to her core like Birman knew it always did.

The hand that had been drifting between Hanae's breasts skimmed over her belly and under her skirt, joining in the play. Birman used it to spread her lover before thrusting a third finger into her, using the other hand to pinch, roll, and stroke Hanae's engorged clit, gradually picking up the pace as she felt the pale legs under her begin to twitch and her own shoulders go numb from all of her weight.

The brunette leaned up and captured Hanae's lips, swallowing the keening sounds her lover was making. Birman moved on to press her lips to Hanae's throat, feeling the rapid pulse beat against her tongue as she laved and nipped at it, her fingers flying faster over and inside her girlfriend, Hanae's hips meeting every thrust.

Birman felt Hanae clamp down on her hand and she continued to stroke her through her orgasm, stretching it for as long as she could, debating whether or not to continue and send her into a second or third. She decided against it as clear blue eyes opened and locked on her own gaze.

She bent forward slowly and locked lips with the redhead again, sliding her hands out from under the crumpled skirt. Birman pulled back after a moment, rolling her shoulders to restore the circulation as Hanae recovered her breath.

"You," Hanae panted. "Are so going to pay for that."

"For what?" Birman asked innocently, toying with the fluttering hem of Hanae's shirt.

Hanae surged up suddenly and pressed her back into the couch, their limbs tangling, threatening to tip them both off the narrow piece of furniture. "For making Omi ask if anything was wrong," she muttered, hands skimming the soft fabric of Birman's pink tank top. "For putting ideas in the boy's head." Hanae's face descended to it was only inches from Birman's. "For looking so damned innocent while you did it."

Well, Birman thought as Hanae leaned in and began her own assault. Manx's revenge was sure to be creative and well worth it.