Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice.
Author's Note: Very sloppily put together since I'm working on a few different projects right now, and I don't know how this one was finished first, but here it is! Enjoy! And as usual, I would love to hear any thoughts or questions. It's a bit rough around the edges.
Title taken from Maroon 5's "Never Gonna Leave This Bed," but not inspired.
They were almost done; they had managed to filch the princess's beloved diamonds successfully without notice, but the clumsy neophyte Kusami had accidentally scrapped their getaway vehicle against the prime minister's limousine, attracting unwanted attention and triggering a chain reaction of security guards and backlash.
"Goddamn, Kusami, couldn't you have hit any other car?" complained his partner, Hayami, through the earpiece, accompanied by two gunshots and a grunt. "We were so close!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, let me see you drive a big-ass car in the middle of - "
"Where are you?" interrupted Natsume, the more experienced member of Lapereau showing the newbies the ropes. A series of grunts and whacks over the earpiece informed the other two members of the assignment team that he was taking care of a couple of security guards who stood in the way of their escape.
"On my way."
Flitting between the GPS screen with three moving dots on the dash and his current path, weaving in between statues and hedges and other cars, Kusami drove the getaway car to the rendezvous point, taking the extra second to ensure it was hidden. The adrenaline was pumping, making him unaware of the strain in his muscles and the sweat seeping through his clothes.
"Right here," announced Kusami, approaching a dark figure surrounded by unconscious bodies. "Do you have the jewels?"
Natsume opened his small knapsack to reveal the sparkling, expensive jewels. Running footsteps toward them made them alert, both of their guns raised.
But a, "I'm on the way," in both their ears made them lower their guards. Sure enough, Hayami appeared from the end of the corridor, from around the corner.
Hayami looked just as flustered as Kusami, sweaty and heavily breathing, but Natsume looked as cool as ever, so admirable, in his tuxedo. Kusami was a little disappointed that he was only the getaway driver and didn't get the chance to go undercover, to dress up in black tie attire like Hayami and Natsume. But he was still new, he would have more opportunities.
"Hold on a minute, could we take a small break?" panted Hayami, a hand clutching his side where cramps wracked his overworking body. There a wild paranoia in Kusami's eyes as he glanced all around, afraid of an ambush.
Natsume was not. Or at least, he didn't seem to be. "Sure," said Natsume nonchalantly, reloading his gun just in case, "do you want us to get caught?" But still, he made no move to escape. Natsume was still checking his gun, making no eye contact with either of his teammates, and Kusami was slightly puzzled by his mentor's composure, his indifference to the situation.
"Are we really taking a break right now?" asked Kusami in disbelief, looking between Hayami still catching his breath and Natsume just standing there.
"No, no," gasped Hayami, sluggishly taking a step toward the exit, "you're right, let's go."
"Stop right there!" came a cry from down the hall. All three heads turned to look at the newcomer, a brunette woman dressed in a tight glittery gown. The tattoo of three fireflies on her shoulder indicated her affiliation with the Imai Clan, one of Lapereau's rival organizations.
Upon her appearance, a smug smirk spread wide on Natsume's face. "Or what?" He strolled toward her casually, pocketing his gun and rolling up his sleeves.
The woman strode forward and lunged at Natsume, and they soon began tumbling, a flurry of fancy cloth and fists and swipes.
Kusami and Hayami remained frozen, unsure of how to proceed or how to help their team member.
"We have to go!" reminded Kusami furiously. Oh, he hated the pressure! This was only his third assignment and everything was going so wrong! Why had they taken a break?
However, their conundrum was soon solved for them when Natsume gained the upper hand and pinned the woman to the ground with a grunt and a "Oomph!" from her, having knocked the wind out of her lungs.
"Natsume! Hurry!"
To their utmost surprise, though, Natsume didn't knock her out immediately. Instead he merely stayed on top of her. Another alarm sounded in the distance, panicking Kusami even further; why had this mission gone so wrong? Why was Natsume not moving?!
"Go on ahead. I'll catch up with you later," Natsume insisted to his beginning trainees with a smirk as the woman struggled beneath him, "but first, I'll take care of good old Polka Dots here."
"We managed to extract the jewels and take out witnesses," reported a still breathless Kusami to his head honcho, Ruka Nogi.
On the surface, Mr. Nogi didn't look like an intimidating man; he had blonde, luxurious hair and trusting blue eyes. He was an everyday Prince Charming. Except he wasn't.
Ruka Nogi was the new mastermind of Lapereau, a worldwide crime organization who recently underwent some major changes and leadership upheavals. Though he appeared open and friendly, he was razor-sharp and certainly had a bite to him.
Inheriting the business from his uncle three years ago, Ruka had already made tremendous progress in expanding their global reach, involving themselves in international affairs, and, of course, raking in that money. At the current moment, he was pushing to secure a stronghold in Japan, his father's homeland, but he hadn't anticipated the huge wave of retaliation from other gangs, especially the Imai Clan.
Oh, he hated that bitch, Hotaru Imai.
Snapping back to his work, Ruka asked, "So where are they? I don't see any diamonds."
"They're with Natsume," said Hayami.
Ruka waited for more information, but nothing came. He prompted, "And where is he?"
"He's taking care of one last eyewitness."
"One?" Ruka frowned, his full attention captured. "Natsume can take out dozens of men in one minutes. What's taking him so long?"
"He looked like he was going to take this time." Kusami shifted nervously, darting his eyes to his partner, then looking back at his boss waveringly. "Uh, if I can speak candidly, he looked like he was going to, um…. I know he has a reputation for being ruthless, but I thought, you know… we don't things like that."
"Like what? Be more specific," he snapped, a small seed of dread growing within him.
"I don't know. It looked like Natsume was going to," Kusami made an obscene gesture with his hands with embarrassment, "with her, you know."
"Her?" Something clicked within his eyes. Ruka slammed a fist onto the desk in frustration, but not hard enough to frighten his lackeys. "Fuck! Did she have brown hair and brown eyes?"
"Yeah…"
His tone grew sharper. "What did he call her? Did he have a nickname for her?"
"I think - I was confused at this, but he called her 'Polka Dots?'" At that final piece of the puzzle falling into place for Ruka, he suddenly stood up and jammed his arms into his coat, muttering furiously under his breath.
"Fucking Natsume..."
He awoke before her, which, to him, didn't really make sense since he did most, if not all, of the work last night. How could she be more exhausted than him?
Which was exactly what he asked her when he woke her up. Quite rudely.
He flicked her forehead three times, each one causing her to scrunch her nose more and more in irritation. She swatted his hand away from her face, which only led him to smack her ass. Hard.
Her outrage was as loud as the smack as she startled awake, confused eyes soon turning a glare.
"Natsume!"
"Still screaming my name, I see," he said cockily.
Not bothering to grace him with a reply, she plopped her head back onto her pillow, curling her arm beneath the pillow as she stretched her legs, liking the way her body seemed to melt into the cushy bed. Whenever she slept on her stomach, it was always uncomfortable for her, but not with this bed. She could feel his eyes still watching her so she turned her head the other way, blissfully ignoring him.
"How are you so tired?" he asked insensitively.
"I'm not. I just don't want to see your face."
Reaching around her, he rolled her around before pulling her toward him and crushing his lips against hers. He kissed her too fervently for her sleepy self to respond, his mouth suffocating her as he pressed his body against hers. Taking the lead, he yanked her legs up around his waist.
"One last time before you go?" he mumbled, already rubbing against her in preparation.
A pounding at the door prevented her answer. Both of their heads turned toward the potential intruder.
"Natsume! Mikan! I know you're in there!" came the desperate voice of Ruka, Natsume's best friend and semi-boss (like a boss-friend). Natsume sighed and dropped his head onto her shoulder. Their fun was over.
"Maybe next time," she promised, slipping out of bed, out his arms, and back into her dress.
He remained on the bed, not even bothering to cover his nakedness. "You on top?"
Adjusting her dress, Mikan chuckled in agreement. "Just the way we like it."
With a smooth move, ignoring the furious knocks on the door, she snagged one last sloppy kiss and the sparkling jewels from Natsume's bag before opening the window.
"Ciao," was all she said, with an almost seductive smile and a saucy wink, as she wiggled her fingers in farewell, the princess's precious diamonds dangling from her hand.
They'd always been rough with each other, ever since they met when they were ten years old.
It started with a simple shove, then a vengeful push, which quickly deteriorated and escalated to tripping and taunting and sabotage and suspicious screaming.
Even worse, they both were in training for their family businesses: racketeering. Criminal organizations that dabbled in a little of all trades; their families were big, after all. With that life came the need to defend and attack. Except Mikan and Natsume mainly learned how to attack each other.
Their mothers were best friends, and they weren't inherently set up to be enemies; their personalities merely clashed in such a tempestuous combination that they couldn't resist roughhousing.
When they were first introduced to each other, Natsume had run away from her, and Mikan persistently chased him, ending the day with a couple of scraps and bruises. Since then, their fights and arguments and bickering intensified.
But they never hurt each other seriously.
Every time the screaming started in one of their rooms, by the time a parent reached them, they had gone silent and innocent, insisting that nothing was wrong until the next scream. Each practice fight had become a legitimate smackdown between the two of them, but nothing more than bruises or black eyes or small bleeds. Every attack was merely an annoyance, a method of harassing one another rather than bullying.
Natsume taunted Mikan with perverted nicknames, Mikan invaded his private space and his quiet time. Mikan put him in a chokehold, Natsume pinned her down. Natsume squeezed, Mikan slapped.
They both burned and hurt. And every time they touched, it was hard and sharp and harsh; no softness or fragility.
When they discovered sex, it was even worse. Natsume, of course, discovered it first and introduced it to Mikan, an ultimate display of dominance and power; it was so crude and primitive, after all; a method of determining the alpha between the two.
Unsurprisingly to Natsume, however, Mikan wouldn't just lie back and take it (though Natsume liked it that way), and she had responded by fucking him just as hard and just as violently.
From their parents' perspectives, it was bad enough to have kids who didn't get along, then they had kids who didn't get along and could physically hurt each other, and then those kids became wild teenagers who had loud, screaming sex all the time. Like, all the time.
The first time their parents had discovered they were having sex, they thought maybe their children had turned around and had developed feelings for each other. Maybe the hormones had overridden the animosity. They soon realized that was not the case; the sex was just another outlet for their emotions.
"What's the competition, huh? Is this a fucking competition?" roared Karou after coming back to the house after a wonderful date with her husband to discover her son and her best friend's daughter going at it hot and heavy on her brand new nice Italian leather living room sofa. The worst part was her insolent son refused to stop! "Is this some kind of sexual game? No more! We have had enough!"
She had stomped to the phone to angrily call Yuka, and they all sat down, one big family to scold their children, but that didn't stop the two hormonal teenagers.
The parents tried even harder to separate the two of them just like when they were harmless children, but to no avail. Despite their best efforts, they would find a handcuffed Natsume in Mikan's bed or Natsume in the middle of spanking Mikan over his lap.
They had many, many, many talks about it, but the part that most frustrated their parents wasn't the sex or the arguments; it was the lack of understanding. Natsume and Mikan refused to even acknowledge the relationship they had.
It was like Mikan and Natsume had their own little bubble, lived in their own world, but only when it concerned each other.
Both of them had good, communicative relationships with their parents. Mikan was still her parents' bright ray of sunshine, and Natsume was still his parents' scowling black cat. Mikan loved to talk about her friends, her classes, her day, her appetite, her thoughts, and just about anything else in the world with her parents; the more laconic Natsume at least informed his parents about what happened in his life and where he was going most of the time and who he was hanging out with.
But for some reason, whenever their parents brought up either Natsume or Mikan to their children, nothing.
Nothing but silence and weird looks between their children.
They had some sort of pact, an agreement, a connection. And their parents couldn't stop it. Nobody could.
Another client, another contract: another million in her pocket. Hotaru Imai loved the money, especially the power and the influence that came along with it.
"Who do you suspect is targeting you?" she asked while still scanning the folder: a series of recent home invasions and robberies had made filthy rich socialite Luna Koizumi concerned about her own fortune.
"I don't suspect," she said furiously, "I know it's Lapereau. Daddy once did business with them long ago, and it looks like the new head is taking back what he thinks is theirs."
Ah, the new head of Lapereau: Ruka fucking Nogi. God, she hated his guts. He could go shrivel up and die in a sewer; it would make everyone's lives immensely better. This was Japan, which rightfully belonged to the Imai Clan, who had traditionally held the territory for generations, not some prissy French gang.
Luna's shrill voice brought her back to her client. "I hear they're sending…" Hotaru swore she saw a shiver (how silly). "...the Kuro Neko."
Instead of expressing the same fear and anxiety, Hotaru smirked. "I'll make sure to assign Mikan to the case," she said simply, as though the problem was already solved.
"Which one is she?"
Hotaru selected Mikan's photo out of another folder and slid it over to her nervous client. Admittedly, it wasn't the best picture to reassure a concerned client. Mikan was smiling brightly, the light hitting her face so angelically, looking like a woman who couldn't so much as swat a spider.
"Her?!" shrieked Luna in disbelief and in outrage. She was paying good money, a ton of money, for some ditzy brunette?
"Trust me, she's the best counter defense for the Kuro Neko." Then she added, "They have a thing."
"A thing?" Luna narrowed her eyes. This deal was sounding worse and worse by the minute.
Being the professional she was, Hotaru knew better than to describe what Natsume and Mikan had as "a fucking stupid thing" or "the worst natural disaster in her life."
"A mutually satisfying relationship with sexual relations."
Those were still the wrong words because Hotaru could see the alarm in her client's eyes.
"I don't understand. She," Luna pointed at the picture of the smiling Mikan, "works for you, but she's sleeping with - she has a relationship with someone from Lapereau?
Hotaru sighed. Fucking Mikan, always leaving her best friend to explain her fucking complicated relationship to literally everyone. Literally. Mikan always just shrugged or smiled whenever someone asked her about Natsume.
"Don't worry, she's loyal. They both wouldn't betray the people they work for, but they're more loyal to each other. Sometimes it works in our favor, sometimes it doesn't, depending on what the assignment is. In your case, it works to our advantage."
Luna was still skeptical.
Hotaru reassured her, "She'll take care of the Kuro Neko."
"Welcome back, Mikan. Subaru's ready for you in Exam Room Two," informed Anna, another bubbly agent who worked for the Imai Clan.
After each grueling assignment, every agent had to undergo a physical exam with a medical professional, just to ensure they were in good health and wouldn't suddenly die on them. (Which, to Hotaru, signified protecting her assets and maintaining a steady profit. A dead agent brought no money.)
Mikan thanked her friend and made her way to Exam Room Two, where she waited for Hotaru's older brother. Subaru Imai had always dreamed of becoming a doctor, which he was, at St. Luke's International Hospital, but loyalty to his family kept him around the business, though his sister and the rest of the family took extreme cautions to ensure he wasn't too heavily connected to their organization. They let him live his own life, but he still cared enough to come around.
"Sorry for the wait, Mikan," said Dr. Imai, entering the room. "Nadeshiko had a gunshot wound that needed to be taken care of."
"No problem," chirped Mikan. "Is she okay?"
Subaru nodded, a bit tired from the emergency ordeal that had just occurred. "She's resting now. She'll be okay."
Mikan smiled genially at the good news.
"You know the drill: any problems you noticed?" asked Subaru, snapping on his gloves to prepare for a basic physical.
Mikan shook her head. They made light conversation as he recorded her blood pressure, her pulse, examined her nose, throat, ears, etc. It was routine. She didn't say anything (of course she was still embarrassed; it was her best friend's brother looking at her partially naked body!) as Hotaru's brother silently and meticulously examined her body for anything suspicious or abnormal.
Although they weren't unusual for Mikan, especially after an assignment involving Lapereau, Subaru hesitated over the numerous love bites and bruises that he knew would perfectly match the hands of a certain Natsume Hyuuga.
"Another night with Natsume?" He tried to keep his tone light and casual as he looked at her pointedly.
"Yes," she said with just as fierce a gaze, which quickly turned to mirth. "Are you slutshaming me?"
"I don't disapprove of you having sex," Subaru explained, taking his latex gloves off and declaring her a clean bill of health for now. "I just wish you would choose a better partner, preferably one who doesn't work for Lapereau."
"Hotaru doesn't have a problem with it - with him."
He looked at his sister's best friend flatly. "You know she doesn't like to show her emotions too easily."
Mikan merely shrugged away his concerns, continuing to kick her legs like a little girl. "Are we finished?"
Subaru let her change the subject; nobody could change her mind about Natsume. "You're overdue for an OB/GYN exam. Would you like me to bring Himemiya in so she can do that for you?"
"Yeah, that would be okay. We can go ahead and do that now."
Closing her medical records, he smiled at her to let him know he wasn't truly that angry and left her with a pat on her head.
She was like a precious little sister to him. If Natsume made her happy (in his own twisted way), so be it.
Mikan wasn't worried; she trusted her doctors and she sometimes could be very oblivious. The check-up with Subaru had gone normally so she had little reason to suspect anything was off when Himemiya took an unusually long time during her exam.
Her face was serious, gaunt almost. "Mikan, you're seven weeks pregnant."
"What?" she said in disbelief. Mikan recoiled from Himemiya and her hand flew down to her stomach. "Sorry, what?"
"You're seven weeks pregnant," the doctor said more gently. "I'm going to give you some time alone to process this, but I'll be back in a little bit, and I'm going to have some questions for you. Okay?"
Mikan nodded silently. Himemiya left the room just as she had promised, leaving Mikan alone with her thoughts, which, admittedly, weren't very many at the moment.
She still couldn't believe she was pregnant. But, as she took a deep breath and regained herself, she supposed it was only natural. They had been careful as teenagers, using condoms and birth control, but now, when they mostly saw each other during assignments, it wasn't always guaranteed that one of them would bring a condom and sometimes Mikan couldn't be bothered with her busy schedule to take (or even remember to take) the pill.
When Himemiya returned, Mikan's first question that she blurted out was: "Did you tell Hotaru?"
Himemiya shook her head as she sat on a stool and scooted closer to Mikan, making her feel more connected. "We don't have the same confidentiality afforded to us, but I will respect your privacy. It should be you who tells her."
Mikan nodded and managed a small smile in gratitude.
"Will you keep the baby?" Himemiya tried to keep her tone less piercing, but that was the most important question, the one whose answer would define Mikan's life.
After a few seconds, Mikan stammered, "I - I'm not sure yet."
Understandable. Himemiya nodded in sympathy. It was quite a bombshell to drop.
"Well, if you do decide to keep the baby, there's a lot of things to consider. Definitely, you won't be allowed on assignments. You'll have to have a lot of check-ups and have a lot of prenatal care, including taking vitamins and ensuring the health of the baby. You have to be ready for the commitment."
Mikan's eyes were still a bit glazed over so Himemiya continued.
"Pregnancy, especially first-time pregnancy, is a particularly emotional and high-pressure event, and support is definitely a necessity. Will the father be involved?
In her entire lifetime, Mikan had only slept with one person, and when Himemiya asked her that question, Mikan snapped back to reality and almost instantaneously knew her answer.
"No."
Himemiya merely nodded.
"I don't want to tell you how to live your life, but as your doctor and as your friend, I highly recommend letting Hotaru and your family help you through this pregnancy if you do decide to keep it."
Mikan nodded. Then she asked mutedly, "If you were me, would you keep the baby?" Her eyes betrayed her most prominent emotions: vulnerable and scared.
"This is a very personal decision," started Himemiya slowly, "and I think this is more than something that can be reasoned out. You have to make this decision by yourself, but I can tell you that you're young, you're healthy, and there's no concerning family history that I can see that would indicate birth complications. "
Himemiya allowed some time for those thoughts to sink in as Mikan's eyes were unfocused and distant, her expression in agony as she contemplated her decision.
Softly, to fill in the silence, Himemiya spoke one last time: "It'd be easier for your life right now if you terminate the pregnancy. If you choose to keep the baby, it'll leave you vulnerable and unable to work. But like I said, it depends on what you want. Perhaps the baby will bring you great joy in the future."
Natsume hadn't been laid in weeks. It wasn't, like, a life-or-death situation, but it definitely affected his mood and aggravated him.
Mikan hadn't appeared on his last two assignments, which sorely disappointed him and kept him on edge. There was only one body, one pussy, that could satisfy him. Where was she?
So when Ruka announced an assignment to break into some billionaire's house and steal his wealth, facing a suspected Imai Clan protection detail, he nearly leaped at the opportunity, and against the common sense of the business, Natsume made it very widely-known within their circles that he would be on the job.
With his blatant flagrancy, he was like a bird trying to attract his mate, wildly flailing a grand colorful display and shouting his mating call.
Yet despite his display and screaming signals of "I'm here!" she wasn't assigned to the Anju case.
The protection detail was larger than usual; something was wrong. Imai would never waste so many agents, but yet there they all were, countless agents of the Imai Clan being taken down by Natsume.
It was a simple job, but Natsume had mentally tallied 16 agents, and there most definitely were more in other parts of the house.
And most definitely, none of them were Mikan.
"Where is she?" he asked one of the Imai Clan goonies he had hit on the head.
The man slurred, "Who?"
"Mikan. Where is she?" As best friend of the leader of Imai Clan, there was no way anyone who worked for the Imai Clan did not know Mikan.
"Who?" repeated the man, obviously already suffering from the head trauma.
Natsume spat in disgust, then kicked him in anger. He was no help.
Where was she?
Though they worked for rival organizations, they were loyal to each other. Even their best friends couldn't keep them apart.
In the comfort and darkness of his own apartment, mulling over his first glass of whiskey for the night, icing his sore muscles after the Anju assignment, Natsume called her cell phone.
The phone rang twice before someone answered.
Imai's voice was bored yet sharp all at once. "We don't want any pizza."
"What?" Natsume sat up straight, a bit more alert.
"What?" Imai's tone grew more alert as well. "Who is this?"
"Who is this?" he hissed. "Why would I have pizza?"
"Hyuuga," she said simply, not needing any confirmation.
"Imai. Why do you have her phone? Where is she?"
"Because I'm her best friend. But I don't know where she is."
"What do you mean you don't know where she is? She's your best friend! She works for you!" Natsume felt himself getting riled up as he clutched his phone more tightly.
Imai didn't bother to answer any more of his questions. "Goodbye."
"Wait!" There was unmasked desperation in his voice.
Imai grudgingly didn't hang up immediately. "What?"
"...What's my name on her phone?"
There was a slight snicker on the other end. "'Greatest Pizza of All Time.'"
Then Imai hung up on him.
Natsume sighed, putting his phone face down on the table. "Such a glutton."
"Where is she?" Natsume slugged the Imai Clan agent another time, adding to the mess of blood and saliva already on the face. With both hands on the collar of his shirt, Natsume slammed the barely conscious man against the wall again, drawing out a pained groan. The eyes of the man rolled underneath his eyelids, but he was still awake.
"I said, where the fuck is she?" he shouted.
"Natsume! Stop!" Ruka appeared, a little rumpled from the action, concerned for his best friend. "The mission's over. Let's go."
"No! He'll tell me where she is, I'll make him tell me." Natsume glared at the limp man as though he were the one who took Mikan away. "I'll burn down their entire fucking headquarters if I have to."
Though Ruka despised Hotaru Imai and wished for her demise, he knew better than to go head-to-head with the entire Imai Clan, especially for something as personal as Natsume's affair with Mikan.
"Natsume, she's not here," he began softly. A wild animal like Natsume could be dangerous, even to his best friend.
"Of fucking course, I know she's not here! I'm trying to find her!" Natsume turned desperately and furiously to Ruka, who almost winced at the blazing ferocity in his eyes, at the unhinged detachment from the world. He was going mad.
Ruka firmly grasped his friend's arm. "Then don't waste your time interrogating the entire Imai Clan. Go find her."
Ever since Mikan had mysteriously disappeared from the crime scene, Natsume had monitored the trackers he had given her: one in a charm bracelet he had given her for her 15th birthday, one in her personal cell phone, one in a penguin-shaped alarm clock that she mainly used to tell time rather than wake her up in the morning, and one in a picture frame of their entire families when they were younger, both of them smiling but sitting on opposite ends of the picture.
He had traced the tracker in her clock and in her picture frame to a storage unit in town, which puzzled him since the last time he had seen them were in her apartment. The phone remained around the territory of the Imai Clan before the signal disappeared completely, indicating that she probably disposed of it.
Initially, he tried to follow the tracker on her charm bracelet, but it moved erratically all over town and never stayed in one place for too long as though everywhere she went, Mikan had a time limit. She and it went to the supermarket, Imai's house, a travel agency, her parents' house, the storage unit, the mall, and other such mundane places.
Then one day, they all moved toward the same place: out of Japan.
With burning curiosity and slight puzzlement, Natsume watched as the signals of all his trackers crossed the ocean, landed on an entirely different continent, moved from a big city to a lesser-known town, circling around it for a while before finally stopping.
As soon as Natsume was certain it wouldn't move again (there was a high likelihood), he took action.
Of all the countries in the world, of all the cities in the world, of all the suburbs in the world, Natsume would always be able to find her, with or without the trackers. Without them, he would have just worked even harder to seek her out.
However, it did make finding her a whole lot easier. He received Ruka's permission to borrow the gang's official private plane so he didn't need to bother with the hassle of papers and visas and finding a flight.
Thanks to Ruka's shrewd guidance, Lapereau had expanded quite well over the globe, and it wasn't hard for Natsume to find connections for a car and a place to stay when he couldn't travel anymore for the day.
All in all, it took six days to reach her. In those six days, Natsume obsessively checked the signals from his trackers and prepared his approach. Clearly there was something wrong with Mikan, something that had driven her into hiding, something Natsume needed to remedy.
He couldn't have this happening again.
Natsume didn't love her or anything, but they were exclusive, and there was no other person in the entire world who quite understood him like her, who could handle him and his passion like her, who could make him cross the world just to be with her again.
But, yeah, he didn't love her or anything. Of course not.
It was just… Years really made a person fond of another person. She was his woman, and Natsume was (pretty) sure he was her man (...right?).
Natsume grunted at his dark (insecure) thoughts. He would fucking murder any man who touched her. Then he'd punish her (sexually, of course; probably fuck her over and over again into oblivion) for letting a man touch her. She was all his: his to hold, his to cherish, his to appreciate.
In a completely physical way, of course. Not in love or anything like that.
Hidden in the disguised car across the street, still burning up with jealousy and anger with his previous thoughts, Natsume turned to glare at the little dark green suburban house, all cozy and shit with its lights on.
She was in there. He knew she was, and he would get her back.
"What's all this?" Koko pondered, picking up the gifts Natsume had prepared to win over Mikan. "Wow, this is so basic. You have, like, nothing here. Could you be any less romantic?"
Natsume grunted in acknowledgement of his friend and continued to pack. "What do you recommend I bring her then?"
"Women love chocolate. I bet she loves chocolate like the good, expensive quality shit. Get her some perfume and jewelry, too. You gotta pamper her, too, maybe bring her some nice scented candles and a bath bomb, then offer her a massage in the bathtub."
Natsume aggressively zipped up his bag, only just a little annoyed at Koko. "She isn't just any woman; she's my woman, and I know what my woman likes."
Natsume knocked on the door, making sure to look down and keep the lid of his cap over his eyes. It was a poor disguise, but with the darkness and the gifts he bore, he was sure she wouldn't look too closely.
Years of training honed her instincts to not answer the door without precautions, especially when she was trying to hide, but years of knowing her informed Natsume of which tactics would work most effectively to draw her out.
He heard her footsteps coming closer to the front door, then a few moments of silence as she looked through the peephole before a wary, "Who is it?"
"Package for you, Miss," Natsume said lowly, trying to disguise his voice as he held up the giant teddy bear, a larger exact replica of the Mr. Bear Mikan had lost during her childhood.
Her reaction was instantaneous as she whipped open the door, spilling light and warmth onto the porch, all precautions damned and smited. She was too trustworthy, he had always scolded her for it, but it worked to his advantage now.
"Wow! He looks just like a teddy bear I had when I was younger!" exclaimed Mikan as she took the giant bear into her arms, looking at it in awe. It was nearly as big as she was, so fluffy and so cuddly. Instantly, she pulled it close and buried her face into the soft, familiar fur. It even smelled like her home, too!
"Sign here," he ordered, pushing into her hands a fake clipboard and pushing into her home.
"Who's it from - Hey, what're you - Natsume?" He took off his cap casually and ran a hand through his hair to whip it back to some semblance of how he liked it: messy and alluring.
Ignoring her flabbergasted expression and pitiful sounds of astonishment, now that he had crossed the threshold, he took the time to scan her new house. It was quaint; two stories, painted a pleasant blue with some furniture Natsume recognized from her apartment and some he didn't, but looked comfortable enough.
After deeming the house decent, he nodded ever so slightly and dropped his bag onto the ground in finality.
It was a house Natsume could live in.
"What's up?" he greeted coolly, eyes checking her out from head to toe. She looked the same as ever: brown eyes, brown hair in a messy bun, looking comfortable in a warm knitted cardigan and sweatpants.
Her eyes narrowed. "Did you not hear anything I just said?!"
"...Nope."
Mikan sighed, almost in defeat, but he knew her; she was never defeated. "What are you doing here?" she asked tiredly, shifting the new Mr. Bear comfortably so she could loop her arms around him and hold him loosely around her body.
Natsume gave his bag a small kick. "Moving in."
She gave him a deadpan look. "Answer me seriously."
"I am serious. I haven't seen you in, what, five months?" He put down the clipboard onto a table near the front door. "Imai answers your phone. You haven't been on a job, and suddenly nobody on your team can tell me where you are. Who else lives here?" He took off his jacket and hung it on the convenient coat rack.
Contrary to Mikan's expectations, Natsume wasn't looking at her smolderingly like he usually did; he was just… looking. Not aggressively, not sexually.
"It's just me," she answered, watching him carefully, "and not you."
"Right," he acknowledged dismissively. Natsume made a move to step further into the house, but Mikan stepped quickly block him. Then he focused intently on her.
He reached for her nape, pulling her close, squishing Mr. Bear between them. He leaned in close.
"It's my first time here," he said, the words ghosting over her lips, "maybe you could show me around, like to the bedroom."
Mikan pulled away, but the grip on her neck was strong. She only managed to pull them a little bit apart. "We can't, Natsume."
Instantly, his face darkened. "Why? You find someone else? Someone who can fuck you as good as I can?" he spat harshly.
"No, Natsume, that's not - " she said, already sounding resigned. "We really can't."
"Why not?"
Looking away, then down at the ground, then finally at him, Mikan moved the new Mr. Bear to the side, exposing her rotund, heavily pregnant belly.
Natsume initially recovered faster than she expected.
"Mine?"
Mikan almost snorted derisively. "Who else?"
"Explain," he demanded; Mikan was used to his brashness, but she still frowned at him.
"When a man and a woman, like your mommy and your daddy, love each other very much - "
"I don't need that explained," he snapped. "Explain everything else."
"I'm seven months along. Twins. I didn't want to know the sex yet so I don't know if they're boys or girls or one of both. I've been going to all my appointments. Nobody else really knows besides my doctors, not even Hotaru. She just thinks I'm taking a vacation. A really long vacation."
When it was clear Natsume was still in shock and didn't know what to say, Mikan took the initiative.
"I'm going to have a cup of tea. You want one?" She started walking to her kitchen, inviting him into her house.
"Yeah," he said absentmindedly, following her naturally.
She stopped him. "Just go wait on the couch, Natsume. It'll be ready soon."
Within a minute, Mikan was back with two cups of hot tea. She handed one to Natsume as she slowly took a seat on the other end of the couch, wrapping her hands and blowing on her tea.
"That was fast," was Natsume's only remark.
Mikan kept the small talk going just a bit to make things feel like normal. "I was already making some before you came." She watched Natsume take a sip, then another. It was one of his favorite teas. "You like it?"
He nodded (of course) and then didn't say anything else.
After a gulpful of slightly too hot tea, she asked, "How did you find me?"
"Shouldn't I ask the questions first?' Mikan almost rolled her eyes in exasperation; if he wanted to ask the questions first, he should have talked first.
"How did you find me?" she repeated calmly, sipping her tea.
"Trackers. Why didn't you tell me?" His tone was sharp.
She responded loftily, "Why would I tell you?"
"Because those are my babies, too. I'm their father," he said plainly.
"Maybe I didn't want you in their lives."
Over the years, for his occupation, Natsume had learned to mask his emotions very well, hiding the weaknesses and the pain. So when Mikan's declaration pierced his heart, he merely blinked. "That's a very rude thing to say."
"Natsume," she started, putting down her cup of tea, which Natsume copied, "these are babies. They're going to be fragile and vulnerable and helpless. You've never been gentle in your entire life."
He ruminated over his answer before answering, "Because you never asked me to." Mikan gave him a look, which he ignored. "It was the only way we could communicate, the only way we knew how to talk to each other. Did you want something else?"
"A little variation is always appreciated, but, Natsume, I don't think you can. I don't want my -"
"Our."
"- children to grow up without knowing kindness and gentleness and softness. I don't want them to grow up forced to be tough and hard."
Natsume knew what that meant; she didn't want them to grow up like he was.
He didn't want to accept the truth; way back then, he had been rough with her first, and she had simply responded. He was why they never progressed past the harshness and the roughness.
But he was ready to change. He pleaded, "Give me a chance to show you what I can do. At least let me feel my children."
Mikan examined him critically, looking him up and down, looking into his soul through the eyes.
Though he had spoken with confidence, Natsume knew Mikan could see right through him; he had never tried to be soft in his life, which demanded sharpness and cruelty. With Mikan, he was also pushing and grabbing and squeezing and snarling. She was soft and kind and gentle because she chose to be. He had never chosen.
But then, Mikan caught a flash of something in his eyes she had never seen from Natsume: uncertainty.
He was desperate, helpless, and completely in her hands. Maybe he could be different.
She scooted closer to him, pulling away the layers of her cardigan.
"Gently," she said, acquiescing to his request.
Natsume's hands hovered over her enlarged tummy for several seconds, reaching for her before hesitantly retracting and then trying again. He licked his lips nervously. Finally, he laid his hands on her belly, on his unborn children, with the first soft touch Mikan received from him in years.
In full disclosure, Natsume's palms started to sweat a little, and Mikan could feel the heat through the thin material. She lifted up the last remaining barrier as she let him put his hands on her bare skin. She could have sworn Natsume's eyes bugged out a little at the incredible bulge. Yeah, she knew she was already huge; she had twins!
"Gentle, soft," she reminded him quietly. Natsume looked up with obedient, vulnerable eyes and nodded mutely. Very slowly, he moved his hands to stroke her swollen belly, caressing it in amazement.
Just as softly as Natsume's hands on hers, Mikan placed her hands over his, connecting in a way they had never before. They stayed like that for a few minutes in complete silence, Natsume studying his children and Mikan studying him.
Then there was a kick.
"Oh!" gasped Natsume quietly, his hands flinching from the unexpected force. He looked up at Mikan in wide-eyed surprise before melting into an expression Mikan had never seen before on his face, one that suspiciously looked a lot like love.
One that made Mikan's heart ache with emotion.
Maybe he could stay.
Tentatively, she reached for his face, to brush away his long bangs from his face. The small affectionate move drew his attention to her.
Just as he had touched her pregnant belly, those same hands reached for her face, not in passion or in anger, but in tenderness, something Mikan hadn't experienced in quite a long time. Mikan stayed still, a bit cautious but eager at the same time, eager to see what Natsume would do.
Natsume leaned forward slowly, gauging her reactions, and took the initiative to press his lips against hers delicately.
He didn't move, didn't force his tongue, didn't try to make it anything else; it was simple and sweet.
After a few seconds, he lowered his head to press the same kiss on her belly, to his children, then another kiss, one for each of them.
Though she was rough with Natsume and though she committed crimes for a living, Mikan had a soft heart.
Which, unfortunately for her, Natsume knew just how to play, whether he meant to be manipulative or not.
"For you," he said curtly, thrusting an all too familiar box into her hands. It was a box of her favorite candy: howalons. She could never refuse howalons, and her heart maybe melted a little at the implication that maybe he cared enough to remember and to bring her some.
"Are you trying to bribe me into letting you into their lives?" she asked suspiciously, putting it down on the ground as she finished preparing the bed in the guest room for him.
Natsume rolled his eyes. "I brought them with me before I even knew you were pregnant so obviously no… "
With newfound softness, Natsume reach out and tucked her hair behind her ear so he could whisper directly into her ear with his hot breath: "I'm trying to bribe you into letting me into your life."
Watching him prepare dinner for her, she decided he was getting better at the whole caring thing. He hadn't complained once since moving into her house, though she knew he wanted more than what she allowed him. He wanted to sleep in the same bed, he wanted to take baths together, he wanted to perv on her despite the pregnancy. At the very beginning, he wanted to intrude completely into her life, but she was firm; she denied him.
And gradually, Mikan allowed him a bit more freedom with every day that passed where he proved himself worthy. He could come with her to her appointments. He could snuggle with her on the couch. He could stay.
She really hadn't expected to let him back into her life so easily, but… there was just something about the man she had loved for years (yes, years) that made it easy to let him back in.
Probably something about his eyes. She really hoped at least one of the twins would inherit his beautiful eyes.
True to his word, he had tried really hard to be more gentle with her, more sensitive, and more affectionate in a non-"I'm going to fuck you senseless" way. Sometimes, he struggled, and she could see how laborious it was for him, to find the right words to say, to stop saying the wrong things, to find a better way to say it, to learn boundaries, and to stop pushing so hard.
He was making progress.
Maybe tonight, she mused, she would finally let him sleep in the same bed as her; something he had pined for and asked for since the first night.
His kisses, one on each of their foreheads, were still just as gentle.
"Bring them here," Mikan mumbled tiredly, "I want to hold them."
Natsume adored them, his precious little brown-haired, red-eyed twins, for a moment longer before he rolled the hospital bassinet over to her bed.
Even after a few hours of rest, Mikan still looked as bedraggled as she did right after birth. Natsume hadn't done as much work as Mikan so he had stayed up, stared at his children and cooed at them, sent announcements to immediate family and friends, and most importantly, snapped about a thousand photos of his living, breathing, healthy, adorable, and absolutely precious babies.
Of course, Natsume had held them, but they were tiny and he didn't quite trust his grip.
Nonetheless, he carefully picked up the boy, swaddled tightly and looking delightful in his knitted hat, cradled him in his arms, and moved to hand him off.
More confident, Mikan reached for her little boy, resting his head on her chest, making sure they had skin contact. She adjusted his hat so she could look at more of his face.
Natsume picked up his equally beloved daughter and was momentarily stunned, both by the beauty of the newborn and by how to give their child to her mother. She was already holding one baby and couldn't reach out for another.
Luckily for him, Mikan saw his dilemma. She lowered the neck of her hospital gown a little more and crooked her elbow, making a secure place to hold her daughter.
"Go ahead, put her right here." She smiled at him reassuringly. "You can do it."
Slipping a firm hand underneath his daughter's neck, he slowly transferred her over, right in the spot Mikan prepared.
Mikan smiled at Natsume's careful and caring movements. He was a fantastic father.
Curling his finger for his daughter to grasp, with an absolutely, heart-wrenchingly soft smile that he didn't try to hide, Mikan knew Natsume could be gentle.
They moved sensually, making sweet, tender love rather than fucking.
It was something new, something different, but as their breaths mingled and their sweaty limbs moved languidly against one another, Natsume had long ago decided he didn't mind doing this for the rest of his life.
He hadn't fallen asleep yet; he was slowly reaching the brink of the blissful release of sleep, happily spooning Mikan from behind, contentedly rubbing his face against her hair like a purring cat.
He loved her so much, he really did.
And he didn't mind the pleasant tightness in his chest whenever he thought about her or about their twins or about their family.
She breathed rhythmically, and Natsume worshipped her every breath. He worshipped every word she spoke, every step she took, every laugh she had. And with him, she laughed and smiled with such freedom.
If only he had known she would accept him with such grace and such tenderness, he would have abandoned the whole alpha male facade long ago. He would have stopped trying to be so rough and so tough and so dominant. He would have stopped trying to fight her.
Why had he resisted her so much? Why hadn't he lowered his pride long ago?
Natsume wouldn't mind succumbing to her every whim for the rest of his life if it meant she embraced him wholeheartedly; his wonderful woman, his saving grace, his love.
He was never going to leave their bed; for as long she wanted and loved him, he was never going to leave her side.
The End.
Karou refilled her glass for the third time that evening, and being the gracious best friend, she filled up Yuka's as well, sloshing the red liquid just a little bit.
They weren't getting drunk because they had received their children's wedding invitation; they were getting drunk so they could bitch about what it finally took for them to get together. Of course they had wanted them together!
Even when they were pregnant, they had secretly (and not so secretly) wished for them to grow up and get married and bring them grandchildren. Karou and Yuka just hadn't known the road would be so long and so irritating and so difficult.
"The constant sex," mumbled Yuka drunkenly, already slurring, "the fucking worst part. The - the - the screaming and the banging - and it was everywhere!"
Kaoru nodded enthusiastically, about to give her best friend a fucking standing ovation. It was so true.
"Okay, okay," Kaoru leaned in conspiratorially, "but can we talk about the whole 'slave' thing they did when they were 18? The punishment games?"
"Oh my Godddd! Yes!" agreed Yuka with a groan, raising her glass. "That was so inappropriate! Like, you're fucking teenagers, and," she hiccupped, "you're having all this kinky sex, and - and you're not even trying to hide it?"
"Yes! Do you know how many times I had to wash Natsume's sheets? Do you even fucking know? Oh my fucking God!" she screamed, tilting her head back to scream more fully. Her voice echoed around Yuka's living room, drowning out the sound of the romantic comedy playing on the TV.
Their husbands were probably hiding somewhere else, away from their wives' wrath.
"Do I fucking know? Of course I know! I had to wash Mikan's sheets all the goddamn time. I had to take out her trash with so many fucking condoms in it! And also, your fucking son broke my daughter's bed!" She couldn't but laugh hysterically, just a tad manic.
Kaoru joined in, just as hysterical and manic and deranged, her glass dangling precariously in her hand.
It took them a long while to calm themselves back down. They both sighed.
"But yeah, it's about fucking time."
"Hell yeah."
They clinked their wine glasses together in agreement and in victory.