Ashy-note This was originally supposed to be entitled 'In His Shirt' and the plot was clear in my mind already, but as I wrote the words my fingers seemed to have a mind of its own, so now it's more on descriptions of what runs through Natsume's mind during this one night, so forgive me if you fall short of your expectations or get bored with it halfway through. This is another one of my random and non-centric fics. Just something unsystematically written…
Written as a welcome-back gift for my long-lost Onee-chan, Bold Brunette! :D
-/-
Just Another Night
Her footsteps were muffled against the carpeted floor, but even the padded sounds were a clear-enough indication to him that she was leaving.
Not so fast, Youjo. Not after this.
Lighting a flame in front of his door to keep her from getting away from him that night, he grunted from his position on the couch and stomped over to begin rummaging in his closet.
He heard her sigh and snarl a bit at the sudden intrusion of fire.
He stole a glance at her through his peripheral vision and grinned, high on amusement, when he saw her breathe and count one to ten to calm down.
He was having too much fun watching her agitated to even focus on his sole reason for opening his closet in the first place. Seeing her so flustered with anger always tickled a small spot in his brain's laughter cabinet. Somehow, senseless as it may be, something about her reactions always wanted to make him smile then blurt out next moment in sheer laughter… must be about the ridiculous way her hands flapped in frustration at his stubborn responses, or the way she growls at him in such a high-pitched way that reminded of him of a puppy trying to impress his daddy the Bulldog, or the way her breathing seems to start running in uneven gaps and her cheeks grow baboon-butt-red with suppressing annoyance, or simply how her eyes always seem to betray her semi-enjoyment at the attention she gets from him.
It all comes down to the thought that she's so endearing to him when she's all riled up with anger. After all these years he still can't reel in the weird thought that she looks so adorably cute when mad.
He'd been stationary long enough for her to doubt him, and though it was long-since established the she was an idiot, he knew she was watching him wistfully, waiting to see if he planned on letting her out soon, so he pretended to delve deeper into his clothes. When it became clear as crystal that she wasn't to come out soon, though, she bolted for the window, opting to jump out instead, and a satisfied smile made its way to his face when she yelped in pain, figuring out a little too late that he got to the windows first as well.
Natsume grinned in secret as he remembered heating the metal frames close to melting point while she busied herself tending to his wounds a while ago.
"Natsume!" she screeched, and he heard her suckling her possibly-burnt fingers and palms; ineffective as his Alice was against her, she was not invincible to the physical heat of objects.
He knew what she was going to say, even without the help of Koko, because she was really just that predictable. "Let me out, you idiot. Stop wasting your flame and my efforts for something as juvenile this prank!"
He merely grunted again, unconcerned. After more minutes of scavenging in his closet he found a simple white V-neck shirt and loose jogging pants, both perfectly fitting him, and both most of the time passionately ignored. He threw them at her and she looked confused for a moment, just staring after him as he then sauntered off to his bed, plumping the pillows before wording out his true intentions. "You're staying here. And sleeping here. With me."
Her eyes widened for a moment before opening her mouth to retaliate. He simply ignored her and rolled on his back before a word was out, smiling at the triumph he'd so easily achieved. It was all too easy with her, especially in this case, because honestly said it was her own obstinate will that made this possible. She can't blame him; it was her fault she got caught up in this situation.
Stupid girl, demanding to get inside my room at the two on the morning, he thought to himself as he listened to her inner struggles through the small whimpers that escaped her—unconsciously, he was sure.
He smiled again. Winning, although there was really no game to speak of in the first place, was in the air for him. Retracing his mind's workings, he found himself replaying the scenario from less than an hour ago.
He had his mind made up the moment she let herself in against his will to treat his wounds after his vehement refusal of her assistance; it was a surprise to him that she knocked on his door right after he had flown in through his open window, although it wasn't an unpleasant one. But no one aside from Narumi and Persona was supposed to know he was homebound tonight, so it was either Persona dropped his pants somewhere and became nice or Narumi "spilled" the news to his favorite surrogate daughter who spent the entire day (or week, possibly) nagging the blonde about him. Regardless of where she got the information from, however, he had already decided her fate for the night. She was here, anyway, so what better way of getting rest than keeping her with him all throughout the course of midnight? She came here of her own accord, anyway… it would be nice to get to keep her for a few more hours.
Call it a friendly visit from her. His girlfriend. A growing, teenager, ruled less by logic and more by instinct. In the dead of the night. Inside his special-star sound-proof room. Wearing nothing but sleepwear and completely, hormonally controlled and imbalanced—
—he snorted at the dangerously enticing thoughts that crept through his brain. He'd save those malicious things for later. As of now, he'd just continue enjoying the disconcerted and definitely livid spectacle that was Mikan Sakura. She was giving him a good free show.
He put out the fire in front of the door and hilarity crossed his features at the sound of her hurried footsteps running towards the door. She touched the knob and again had to jump up in shock at the intense heat of the metal jamb.
"Nat-su-me!"
"What?" He snickered, rolling over to look at her crumpled face and the reddening hands she held close to her chest. "It's fire, Dumbo. And fires are hot."
She was now trying to hold the door knob using a large roll of medical gauze wrapped thickly around her left hand, futilely trying to get out.
"Just—let—me—out—already!" She persevered in her fruitless attempts of opening the door, but the thick pad wrapped around her hands made it damn near impossible to even hold the knob.
She gave up, just as he knew she would, and then turned to face him with a defeated yet still-irate look on her face. Hands on hips and lips jutting out, she chastised him.
"Look, you pesky little cat—" he grinned at the nickname; he never thought the day would come when he'd like being called a 'cat' "—I'm your girlfriend and all, but I'm not staying the night, Natsume. Not with you so mentally-unstable from your mission. Who knows what kind of perverted things you might do to me."
She paused thoughtfully before adding, "And Dumbo is the elephant who has big ears that make him fly, and I don't know how that relates to me in any way!"
He scoffed. "I'd do nothing because I'm not interested in flat chests. This is your punishment for not barging in at two in the morning with your brain-racking ear-splitting banshee screech, and no, Dumbo is taken from the word 'dumb', thus it absolutely matches up with you."
That was his classic retort, the same way of words that over and over killed the goodness out of her and replaced the whites with black and all other bright shades of gray and red. He learned to use them through experience. He also learned from experience that she would be flagellating him in less than five seconds.
She gasped, and without warning —or so she thought— she threw herself onto him, temporarily knocking out all the air from his lungs.
As was expected.
He let slip a victorious smirk, once again proving how banal she was to him already, until it sort of hit him in the face.
The sound that came with her assault was utterly unexpected—
—because she was giggling.
It seems tonight his threat had taken a different turn… his plan was falling out of step.
"I knew I loved you for a reason," she crooned, nuzzling her face in his neck and breathing in deeply.
It would be safe to say he was confused, because he couldn't really think of a thing he said a while ago that made her so ridiculously happy in an instant. Really, he's heard of mood swings, but this girl might just have the first-ever case of mood flip or mood metamorphosis. That or she had multiple personality disorder.
Immersed in his thoughts he vaguely heard her light feet treading towards his bathroom and not long after followed the sounds of the doors closing with a light snap.
Even an ostrich, with its pea-brain, could be smarter than this girl, but even Einstein—or heaven forbid, he himself—would never be able to comprehend her brain wirings.
Strike one.
When she came out, he had to hold his breath—he didn't get it, but to him she looked beautiful, standing in front of him in all her awe simplicity, all thoughts of his random plan gone up to smithereens.
Strike two.
Now he became immersed in thoughts of her images in various clothing before.
He's seen her wearing all kinds of form-fitting, shape-flattering, body-hugging clothes and dresses imaginable, some of which were even bought by him. He's seen her in long shiny-sparkly evening gowns, short-and-cute cocktail dresses, full Victorian gowns…he's seen her in her night gowns, and even in her camisole and underwear, but to him nothing looked better on her than what he was seeing now.
Da Vinci once said, "Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication."
Seems he's even more of a genius than am I, he admitted, because with her long chocolate tresses let down like flowing water and her whole body looking so tiny inside his overlarge shirt and baggy jogging pants, he simply could not agree more.
What was it he thought of a while ago, again?
Something about revenge?
What—?
Somehow he couldn't remember. And he didn't care, really, that she had just made him forget one of his precious vindicated plans against her for having so mulishly forced herself inside.
Strike three. Natsume Hyuuga, you're so whipped.
"Natsume? Why are you looking at me like that?"
He clutched the sheets and raised it up to his eyes while looking at her with all the innocence he had left, looking a lot like Youichi and regaining his strength through feeding off of her presence. He watched her giggle.
The idiot probably thinks I'm cute.
He hid a small smile under the sheets. About time she noticed.
And there goes the vanity.
"Natsume?" she asked again, tilting her head in query.
Beneath the sheets, his mouth twitched in an upward smile again, this time broader than the first. His eyes, however, only shrugged.
He couldn't help it anyway, it was instinctual for him to answer most of her questions in the shortest and most mind-boggling way ever, but somehow a really straight-to-the-point "You look best in my shirt" was all he managed to say before he pulled her beside him on the bed, hugging her close, his eyes drooping with happy sleepiness. All thoughts of vengeance or name-calling or teasing just flew out the window.
But it was nothing new, really, this silly routine after his missions.
To both of them, it was just another one of those nights.
The sudden change in the direction of Natsume's thoughts was to emphasize how greatly Mikan affects him; great enough to actually waver his immense brain power and cause all other ideas, including his 'vindictive plans' as he called it, to disappear in a flash of light.
It's sweet, isn't it, to learn that you can affect someone that way?
Oh, and In His Shirt will probably be posted in Musings instead, so do watch out for it, 'kay? :D And by the by, if you ever happen to wonder what made Mikan so happy all of a sudden, I'll be posting a separate stand-alone one-shot about that. Tell me if you wanna know, so I get proper motivation to do it, ne? (:
~Ashley