What the hell am I doing on Microsoft Word at 4AM?

I enjoy any and all constructive criticism, in review format.

Disclaimer: I do not own No.6. This is purely for entertainment purposes.

It was quiet in the dark room, very quiet. Sion enjoyed the silence most of the time - savored it, even. But this was not the case. His heart still skipped a beat each time he'd hear a rustle by the door, in hopes that it was Nezumi returning from work. But when he'd realized it was just the window, or a howling stray dog - or sometimes even just Hamlet rummaging with the papers - his heart sank to the floor, and he felt stupid for being so excited. Yet, it kept happening. Again, and again, and he didn't know why. Not that he was focused on the reason.

He flipped a page in this book, still listening to the sounds of the somber room. Although the oil lamp was dim, it was still perfect for reading in the small area. The fact that it was late didn't change a thing, be it there were no windows, and him and Nezumi shared the room which was built into the ground. It didn't matter to him, though. Being with Nezumi was like a paradise all in itself. The fact that they lived in a beautiful room, covered in literature from tons of sources, or that sometimes they slept in the same bed (usually when it was cold) only added to the joys he already had. Hell, you could put him and Nezumi in a post-apocalyptic world and he'd still be happy with it - and ironically, that was the said situation.

Aching minutes turned into hours, and Sion's feelings to see Nezumi return home had developed into such a yearn, that he began to pace around the room. He questioned himself; should he go into the city, to the theatre, and pick Nezumi up? What if something happened in the city, should he help? Of course Nezumi would scold him if he did leave, if something serious had happened. The last thing he'd want is 'mindless Sion' roaming around unorthodox.

His questions caved in, though, as he heard footsteps towards the door, and the rattle of keys; followed by the sounds of the door opening. Sion quickly turned to the doorway.

"Welcome home, Nezumi!" He said, a slight ring in his voice.

"Thanks," Nezumi responded, "Sorry I'm late, I had to work over time. They decided to have a third show tonight. I would've told you in advance, had I known ahead of time."

Sion gave Nezumi reassurement by shaking his head. "No, no," he said, "It's fine. I made stew while you were out, but," he gestured one hand towards the pot, moving his gaze away from Nezumi for only a moment as he spoke, although that split second seemed like a lifetime. "I turned it off around 7, because I didn't want it to overcook." He sighed. "And now it's cold. I'm sorry."

"Ah, it's fine, I understand. We can just reheat it." Nezumi moved over, sitting on the bed and leaning over to the pot. He pulled a box of matches out of his coat, and started the flames below the pot of stew once more.

He then removed his outdoor garments, now wearing his casual shirt and pants, and socks. But, Sion did notice one thing to be off.

"Nezumi," he said with slight consideration in his voice, "you still have some lipst-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Sion." Nezumi had cut him off. He started to ravenously rub at his face with his sleeves, but the red smudge stayed.

"Is it still there?"

"No, here," Sion leaned over, while his hand curled up into the sleeve of his blue cardigan. His thumb pressed on the red smudge of Nezumi's lip, trying to use the fabric to remove it, but it didn't seem to work.

"Ah... You could try water."

"Okay, thanks." Nezumi stood, reaching for the pot of water by the doorway. Sion silently giggled to himself - this was one of the first times he'd seen Nezumi so self conscious about his appearance. But before he could crack a joke, before he could look at Nezumi one more time, before he could even open his eyes from a BLINK, he realized his own mouth had become quiet. The noise was stolen by a pair of lips opposite from his own.

His face turned bright red as he realized those lips were Nezumi's, and he opened his eyes to see the taller boy closing his, the look on his face immensely arousing.

Sion pulled away, questioning in his voice. "Wh-what... Was...?"

Nezumi smirked. "Atleast I got it off. You, on the other hand..." He handed Sion a mirror, and Sion blushed a shade darker as he realized the red smudge was now on HIS lips.

But Nezumi was all giggles. No, no, this wasn't fair, Sion thought to himself.

"Nezumi," he said, his voice suddenly full of determination. "We could play this game all night."

"I'm willing to try," Nezumi responded with a sly smile.

Okay. So, uh. If anyone is actually reading and keeping up with my SLFKJSDLFKJSDfanfictions - yes that is how I describe them - then you'd know that I'm rrrrrrrreeeeeeealllllllllly slacking off on my 07-Ghost AU. Yeah, uh. Sorry about that. I just haven't been in the mood. I have writers block for that one. But at the same time, I also have this overwhelming need for some FLUFF, so... Here I am, using No.6 as my torture instrument.

DEAL WITH IT. 8)

This is just a oneshot. Any time I think about writing a smut for No.6, it ends up wayyyy too innocent. I just, I just can't.

I mean think about it. They both qualify as the seme and the uke. IT MAKES ME SO CONFUSED.

: and although I enjoy Nezumi as the seme the most, I also have fantasies about the fact that he cross dresses - which, as a result, my oneshot was based somewhat on that. But I still made him seme-ish by the end. I...

I don't know, guys. ;_;

So, in your review - because you know I LOVEEE reviews - tell me. Which one is the seme? Is it NEZUMI? Or is it SION?

And maybe based on the majority of answers, that's how I'll have it set in my next one shot.

Or, maybe if I get some outrageous answers, I'll realize how much I love you guys and do a whole chapter-set. We'll see how it turns out, won't we?