Misato and Kaji have an amazing dynamic, and I hope I've been able to capture a little bit of it.
All standard disclaimers apply.
Similarities
It was ironic, really, that despite all of their similarities, it was the small ones that really bothered her. Both of them keeping secrets from her she could handle, but it wasn't just that. Both of them would think up odd nicknames for her, for example (Father's "Mi-chan" she understood, but how one earth had Kaji thought up "Tsu-tsu"?). Both of them said that she looked best in purple; both of them refused to change the toilet paper. It was when she saw their many similarities that she worried.
Ritsuko laughed it off, saying that Misato's father must have owned more than one pair or pants, and anyone that Misato screwed that often couldn't be too much like a parent, right? Misato would laugh, too, pretending to forge the thoughts that sometimes came to mind when she and Kaji made love.
Neither of the men could cook. They both read complicated books. They both said that they would always be there to love her. At least one of them proved to be a liar. And if Misato was only in the relationship to see if she could hold on to Kaji like she wanted to hold on to Father, well, that was just fucked up, wasn't it?
". . . but I really don't see how that makes penguins a problem. I know I still love them!" Kaji was saying.
Misato nodded and laughed, only half-listening. Father had always talked about getting an exotic pet, she remembered. Every day lately had been more and more like this, the big things and the little things blending together, into a chorus of "he can be better than your father," and "he'll never be your father," and "why are you doing this?"
"Kaji?" she said. A long pause as she wondered how to explain that he was hurting her, reminding her of what she never had; that she was hurting him by using him to fill a void that he shouldn't have to fill.
"Kaji," she lied, "I've been seeing someone else . . ."