A/N: I had to redeem.
He misses her. Misses her red hair, her pursed lips, running a hand through her hair when they kiss, misses the figure of her in pajamas and with her hair down and he's getting tired of having to hug a dog just because he's used to holding her. But he wants to get this over with because, hey, Shiratori is a good kid, and he really just needs a push in the right direction. And the sooner he's finished, well, the sooner he'll get home and eat Kaya's homemade rice and he will unknot her apron's ribbon and slip her shirt over head.
He'll kiss her, too – there will be lots of 'making out', or whatever she calls it these days – until her lips are numb and cherry red. Because he knows—sometimes it might look he only thinks of manga and typewriters and laptops with lovely keyboards—but at the end of the night, there is him and her and two pairs of entangled legs underneath the sheets, and his arm under her waist (he could care less whether he wakes up with no circulation in his veins there).
And after the kisses there will be the 'look what else I can do without looking', because Kaya loves that game and she usually starts moaning out his name between girlish squeals and urgent gasps of air; by the time Shujin notices, Shiratori's done for the day and he hasn't done anything yet except for moral support, and that doesn't count for anything. It's not like Shiratori needs it anymore – and Shujin is only here to tweak some details and polish some edges – but he can't do that anymore because his head is full of her and of her softness, and then he starts thinking too much and his mouth gets watery – and what a shame it is, to drool.
He bids Shiratori goodnight, pets Peace on the head before heading to his futon and it feels so horribly lonely, without a girl so gorgeous by his side.
The first night after their discussion, Kaya isn't herself. She's giddy with excitement, and she picks out her best tank top, the one that shows a piece of tantalizing cleavage, just to parade around the house. She isn't wearing pants. Shujin tries to keep from laughing, and focuses on her underwear before rolling his eyes and calling out, "I'm not falling for that again."
But he is, and they both know. Because the smile on her face is for him to kiss away, until she can't even focus on smiling anymore, until his name is all she can say; and Shujin curses and stalks after her. They're two kids running around the apartment, her socks skidding on wood and his hands working on unbuttoning his shirt, because it's a race to the bedroom and the one who's less dressed is the one who wins, and she's taking the lead.
She throws one sock at him and he's dazedly touching his shirt, trying to take it off, when it's the tank top the thing that hits him in the face again, and he can't deal with this shit, not after – what it felt like – years without her. It strikes him then, that she's as lonely as she is and –
"Hm," she says, humming into his ear as she hugs him, her arms and chest bare against his shirt (which regrettably is still on). "We have to regain for lost time." And only she could say this without him laughing – he takes this seriously, because he's seen the tears she's shed because of him and his inability to come out and say what he meant from the beginning. "Are we too stubborn?" she asks him, breathless, when she parts the kiss to inhale.
Her lips are close to his ear as he replies, "I don't know," and where has he heard this before – ah, but all rationale is lost when she manages to undo his belt and her hands are cold but he doesn't mind, he just throws her onto the bed with a smirk, and then resumes regaining for lost time.