A.N.: Okay, I've gotten sick of having this on my drafts section so I just trimmed it as best as I could. Really, it's not that great.

...And I can't seem to even find the right way to make it nice and simple. I've been struggling not to write any more that this. Seriously, I have a schedule as busy as biscuits, I don't really have time to do these sorts of things. (Alas, what can you do when your brain knows what you really would prefer doing...?)

Disclaimer: This is fan-made.


The moment Kick opened his eyes and acknowledged the existence of the real world – after the usual overcome of drowsiness- he also became aware of a peculiar feeling that seemed to have followed him from his subconscious.

It was like an indistinct voice from somewhere deep, a nagging statement wordlessly expressed in and from the back of his mind, one which he had yet to decipher. Like one of those rare times when he had had a meaningful, intense dream – and which he could not recall afterwards, except for a vague, empty feeling in his chest that made him cranky and frustrated the following day.

Maybe that's what it was.

Arms behind his head, on his back, still in bed, Kick pondered with a serious frown on his face. He was watching the sunlight slowly filtering through the tall window, brightening the room to a blindingly immaculate white, not long after sunrise. Still having plenty of time to spare and then some, he decided to let his buddy sleep some more; he was going to figure out this curious feeling on his own. (Besides, it didn't seem likely that Günter would come up with anything relevant regarding a daredevil's gut instinct… and Kick was pretty sure that's what it was.).

Frowning thoughtfully, he rolled over onto his belly; as he propped his head in his hands, his small elbows sank into the fluffy pillow.

Unfortunately, he couldn't think of anything to have triggered this feeling. He didn't have anything to work with – and that, he concluded, as he let his head sink into the pillow, was what bothered him the most. Honestly, he was feeling a little silly for getting so worked up too.

Buried up to his cheekbones, staring flatly at the air in front of him, Kick was now hunched into a bundle of sulking unenthusiasm. Breathing in his pillow, the scent of feathers and bleached sheets filled his nostrils, strong enough to make him choke.

Raising his face to inhale proper air, his lungs cleared in a jiffy and he was able to notice something else. He paused in his large intakes of breath and just stood there, motionless for a few moments, eyes widened. He curbed his spine around the tiny trail of something that he could not remember ever having known it was there. Sitting on his hands and knees, searching through the folds of cotton with the sniffing thorough as a dog's, he found the peculiar scent once more.

Like a discreet aftertaste, there was a faint aroma accompanying the smell of clean, crisp sheets. It was so tiny, almost unnoticeable, like it was trying its hardest to hide but afraid of disappearing completely. Compared to the rest of the place- with its clean, empty smell- it was fairly exotic. (Quite out of place, in fact.) And it was so faint; it was hard to tell what it was, although he was not bothered by it, not really. Actually- in fact- on the contrary-… he found it, strangely enough, nice.

It made his senses tingle; it was becoming addictive in its small, subtle dose. It was sweet, pleasantly so, like tropical fruity gumdrops. Like cream tarts with mango. Like

His eyes popped open as he came upon a totally freaky thought…

"No way. NO. WAY. No way, noway, nowaynowaynowaynoway…!"

Kick straightened, hands in his lap; he stared blankly at the sheets, trying to let it sink in – understand what his own thoughts had just implied.

Like a girl's shampoo.

Suddenly, he had memories flash before his eyes, of waking up in the middle of the night to find himself face to face with his very own adoring, unhealthily obsessive, crazy number one fan…

"Do you know you purr when you sleep?"

A shudder trailed down his spine. Now shaken to the core, he wondered if he really wanted to know.


Hours later, Kendall sluggishly opened her eyes, grimacing at the bright sunlight burning her eyelids. She had been curled in a deep thoughtless sleep for so long and yet she felt so very tired her head ached. Silence enveloped the room, telling her that she was the first one to wake up; although the supervising teacher knocking on the other side of the door told her – after she drowsily stumbled out of bed, unlocked and opened the door – that they had slept in and had to hurry because it was almost time for breakfast.

Washing her face in the bathroom to wake herself up, she could hear the rest of her roommates fussing around the room as they got dressed; it went to the back of her mind as she became aware of a peculiar feeling in her gut, like a lead pipe tied into a Gordian knot, trying to pull her downdowndown

Oh.

Like a light switch flicked on, she suddenly recalled the events from last night.

Oh…

She chocked on toothpaste as she almost swallowed her toothbrush.

- "Yo, Blondie! You alright in there?" Brittany asked from the other side of the bathroom door.

As she tried to regulate her breathing, she recalled more and more clearly the earlier adventure, red-faced and an expression of pure disbelief on her face; registering the words of her older roommate, it turned into an aggressively defensive frown, wondering how on earth could she ever even hope to get out of this mess…

She let her forehead rest on the edge of the sink, disheveled blonde hair spilling on both sides of her face.

No, it' not alright…She thought numbly.

- "Yeah, sure!" she managed to yelp out. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

Despite her attempt to take deep calming breaths her stupid heart wouldn't listen.


So there you have it, Tiger's Den is now a two-shot! (I'll try to refrain from writing anything more for a while, I have finals... -_-')

...

Have a nice day, dearies! :)