Disclaimer: Junjou Romantica belongs to Shungiku Nakamura, not me.

It had been nine years since he had married Risako. God, had it already been that long? Nine years since their wedding, six years since their divorce… Miyagi could still see it all so clearly…

He and Risako had stood close together through the ceremony, family and friends beaming at them. He'd been able to imagine exactly what his mother had been thinking: at last, her poor, precious son had finally moved on from his old sensei and settled down with a young and beautiful wife! He himself hadn't felt nearly so sure, haunted by a sense that the woman standing next to him wasn't the right one. But then, he'd felt the same with every woman he had dated since Sensei had passed away. This time, for right or wrong, he'd dared to take the next step and at least from now on he'd have someone to take care of him (and pay half the rent!)

He had hardly seen Risako after the ceremony; they had danced their first dance together and spent the rest of the evening passing amongst the guests, congratulations pouring from everyone's mouths. He had pasted a smile on his face and forced it to stay there even when his muscles grew tired. The drinks everyone kept pressing on him helped.

At one point it did occur to him to wonder where his new wife was. Looking around the room he finally caught sight of her: looking a little wobbly herself, Risako was leaning against the wall near the door, a tall, handsome man leaning in close to her ear. Was he a little too close? Miyagi hadn't been bothered enough to care; he simply chose to assume it was innocent, that they both had drunk too much and weren't even aware of how close they were. His attention was caught a moment later by the approach of his red-cheeked and grinning new father-in-law and Risako's moody, scowling kid brother, and any thought of his new wife fled his mind for the rest of the evening.

Somehow, time passed and the guests slowly filtered out of the room. The wedding had taken place at a luxury hotel in the heart of Tokyo, and he and Risako had a suite booked on the fifth floor. They said nothing as they stepped into the lift beside each other. Tipsy, Miyagi stared closely at the panel of buttons and finally located the right one to press for their floor. Pushing himself upright, he felt the brush of a hand against his arm. Looking around at his new wife, he suddenly felt surprised: hair now slightly mussed, cheeks flushed and a small, almost shy smile on her lips, Risako looked kinda… cute. Big brown eyes looked up at him and she took an unsteady step forward, reaching up to kiss his lips. As she leaned towards him, the scent of her sweet floral perfume wafted up to his nostrils and his stomach lurched – it was the wrong scent, in every way the wrong scent. From his memories, he dragged up the right scent: musky, with a lingering sense of salt from the sea behind it.

His body stiffened. A flicker of confusion passed through Risako's eyes, then they both lurched slightly as the lift came to a stop. Stumbling into the corridor, Risako tugged on Miyagi's arm as they searched for their room. Risako fumbled with the lock in vain, and giggled as she said,

'Kosu- uh, You, You, you'd better do this, I can't get it to work!'

Miyagi unlocked the door and entered the bridal suite, his wife behind him gasping at the lavish furnishings.

'Wow, it's so beautiful!'

Miyagi turned to look at her and she held his gaze for a long moment, keeping it as she gently closed the door behind her and undid the zip in the side of her dress. Sliding the white, silky fabric down, she slowly stepped out of the dress and pulled the pins out of her long, straight black hair, letting it tumble down to her shoulders to frame her face.

Walking over to her new husband, confidently albeit a little unsteadily, she gently slid her hands up his shoulders to then cup his face. Miyagi's breath hitched, but he kept his eyes fixed on her face as she leaned up to kiss him.

Risako pulled him down onto the bed. She fumbled with his jacket, with the buttons on his shirt, pulling them off roughly and tossing them to the side. Over and over again she kissed him, his face, his neck, his chest; she ran her fingers through his hair; still, she felt her frustration grow as her husband failed to react, to respond more than hesitantly, reluctantly. Her own head spinning from the amount of alcohol she had consumed throughout the day, tiredness rather than passion overwhelmed her, and she pulled away from Miyagi, resting her head next to his collarbone, and sighed. If she had thought about it, if she had been less drunk so that her senses were sharpened, she would have noticed that his heart wasn't beating hard for her in the slightest.

As it was, she merely traced the skin on his chest with the tips of her fingers and mumbled apologetically,

'I'm so sorry, You… I know it's our wedding night… But I'm so tired – would you mind terribly if we just go to sleep tonight?'

'No – of course not, love. Come on, let's get out of these restrictive clothes and get some rest. Honeymoon to look forward to, eh?'

The newlywed couple rolled apart and slowly peeled away their clothes until they were both wearing only their underwear. They didn't look at each other as they slid under the sheets. Turning off the bedside lamp, they quickly fell asleep, their backs to one another, a gulf of space between them.

Clearly it had all been wrong right from the start. Having experienced such a disaster the first time round, Miyagi had never expected to go through it all again. Even now he felt surprised! Yet here he was, a ring back on his finger, new vows made. And yet, as he looked down at the sleeping boy in his arms – honey-blond hair tousled, body naked and still slick from their love-making, arms flung tightly around Miyagi's waist – this time, this time it finally felt completely right.

Second time's the charm.