For a moment, they stare at one another, frozen. Both know the other is seriously contemplating ignoring that ringing phone, and all its implications of angry superiors and future chew-outs, in favor of a good old-fashioned throwdown in the middle of Shizume City, consequences be fucked.

In the end, common sense prevails all round. Yata presses his finger almost violently against the screen. Briefly, he wonders if he can get away with melting the phone and calling it an accident.

"Hello-this-is-Yata," he says sullenly, eyeing an equally unhappy looking Saru from the corner of his eye.

"Hi, it's me."

"Kusanagi-san…"

"Just wondering, how're things going with Saruhiko-kun?"

"Fucking Saru-dumbass-monkey and me are getting along just dandy."

"Is that irony I sense? I don't like irony before nine, it makes the customers rowdy. Seriously, though, don't tell me you've failed an assignment this important when you're not even a day in…"

"I haven't failed anything," Yata half-whispers, half-grumbles, more than a little defensively.

"Good. Do HOMRA proud. See ya."

He looks up from the phone to see Saru muttering expletives under his breath, pausing to feed polite-sounding hais and yes ma'ams into the mouthpiece of his phone. No doubt it's his busty lieutenant on the other side.

When Saru hangs up, he clicks his tongue and collapses back onto his chair.

"By all means," he says, "feel free to get the fuck out of here. Don't feel like I'm keeping you. I don't know why I came up with this shitty idea in the first place."

As tempting as it is to listen to him, Yata sits back down. "So what'd she say to you?"

"The Lieutenant? None of your business." After a moment of heavy breathing and traded glares: "…So, what were we talking about before you got vulgar and started threatening me?"

"I started threatening you? Did your mom fucking drop a brick on your forehead when you were born? Clearly you were the one who started this whole thing!"

"Pick a girl."

"Huh?"

"Right now. Look around and pick a girl, and try not to break your neck craning to see up anyone's skirt."

"Only you'd do something like that, vulgar monkey. Um, okay, that one. Brown hair in a ponytail, over there."

"…Do you even have any taste in women?"

"Hah? You got a problem?"

"Whatever. C'mon, get up."

"Get up—why?"

"Why do you think? Come on."

"W-w-w-wait a goddamn second."

"What for?"

"Just—sit down."

"Why?"

"You can't just throw me in there! You haven't told me jack shit about anything yet!"

"Well, I believe in learning under fire. Really, it's not like she's going to bite your head off. Unless you really screw up."

"I don't even know her!"

"Do you know any girls?"

"…I know Anna!"

"…Who've passed puberty?"

"Don't bring up awkward-as-hell things like that out of nowhere! Any-fucking-way, what the hell am I supposed to talk to her about?"

"Whatever the hell type of banalities you normally make conversation with people about! The weather, television! It's talking, not rocket science."

"We have nothing in common!"

"You never know, she might be a violent gang member too. What a lovely couple that'd make. You could spend all your time arguing and bashing each other's skulls in with wrenches."

"As if. Gang members don't look like that."

Saru cocks an eyebrow. "They can clean up surprisingly well. I should I know. I dated one once."

For a second Yata forgets that they're sworn enemies, and it's like they're back in high school again. "Holy shit. Really?"

"Mhm."

"What'd she look like?"

"He, and I dunno, pretty normal, I guess. Not like you'd expect of," and then Saru must keep talking because Yata sees his lips moving and things, but hell if he knows what he's saying because he kind of got stuck at he.

He. He? He? It's not like they've been close in years, but still Yata feel as if he'd somehow mysteriously know about a shift this fundamental in Saru. Or, wait—has he always been like this? How long has this tricky bastard been playing both sides of the fence, anyway? Why the fuck doesn't he know about this? For fuck's sake, he's—

"He~llo? Earth to planet Misaki? God, planet Misaki, sounds like the name of a whorehouse. Anyway, here's a situation you can learn from. People don't like it when you space out while they're talking to you. It makes it look like you think they're boring. The least you can do is put on an interested face."

"Oh, that's rich coming from you, who only knows how to move his face into that one dumb expression."

"Whatever. Listen, if you don't get up in five seconds, I'm going to have to drag you over. What kind of impression do you think that's going to make? Come on, Misaki, don't start living up to your name now and become a total pussy—"

"Okay, that's fucking enough. I'm going."

"Good."

"Fine."

"All right then."

He only starts regretting it after the third step. When he hesitates, Saru snaps his fingers at him like he's some dog, and Yata has to restrain a growl.

All too soon, the two of them are hovering over the girl, who gives them a curious look.

"Hi. I'm Saruhiko Fushimi, and my friend thinks you're very beautiful."

Yata almost chokes on his own spit. When the fuck did that side-talking bastard get so blunt?

The girl considers them over the edge of her cellphone. Yata's afraid if he tries to smile right now it'll come out as a serial killer's demented grin, so he just sticks with looking utterly confused.

Eventually, she puts the little device down, and replies, "Is your friend also mute, or just very shy?"

When Saru shoots him a look, Yata finds himself unable to make his cue. When it's clear that he's half-paralyzed with fear, Saru sighs. "The second one. His name is Mi—Yatagarasu."

The sudden change of tact surprises Yata. He gives Saru an odd look, while the girl's eyes bounce from one of them to the other like a spectator at a tennis match.

Did Saru just do him a favor?

"Miyatagarasu?" she offers. "That's a very, uh, interesting name."

"J-j-just Yatagarasu," blurts Yata. "Or Yata. He just fucked up, that's all."

Saru rolls his eyes. The girl laughs. "You two are very strange, you know that?"

"We're just ennfuhhhhh—friends is all," says Saru.

When he hears that, Yata almost considers challenging him to a fight again, before realizing that there wasn't really anything else he could have said: fuck, the truth? We're onetime best friends, turned bitter enemies on opposite sides of a gang war?

Well, fuck, this is awkward.

The girl glances slowly from Saru to Yata.

"Well, is it true?" she demands suddenly.

Yata almost jumps out of his skin. "What?"

"What he said, silly. Do you really think that, or did your clever talker of a friend make that up for you?"

And this time, finally, he's able to say the right thing:

"He didn't make it up," he says. "I think y-y-y-ou're really um I think you're pretty cute yeah."

"It's like pulling teeth from a cat with this one," murmurs Saru, irritation coating his voice like grit. "You two have fun, since it looks like you're off to a lovely start."

Helpless, Yata watches desperately as he strides off, a thin slice of blue, and feels utterly betrayed. It brings up a bad feeling in his gut: the memory of that day, when that fucking coward betrayed HOMRA—

"—garasu-kun?"

Fuck! She must've asked him something! Damn Saru for distracting him.

"S-sorry, what?"

"Nothing, I just asked do you go to Ashinaka?"

"Um, I'm actually, um, not in high school…"

"Really?"

"… becau~seeee, uh, I'm nineteen? Sooo, I already g-graduated."

Calling the events of the following five minutes 'making conversation' would be far too kind. Yata can't—he just can't talk with her. Even though the poor girl hurtles a veritable battalion of questions at him, he can't summon more than a short, few-word response to each one. Hyper-conscious of her female-ness, of gleaming hair and lip gloss and boobs and skirt and everything else, Yata finds his tongue crippled. It doesn't help that she treats him with the vague amusement one usually uses to deal with young children.

Mercifully, after the five minutes is up, she rises slightly and says, "Actually, I have to meet a friend at 2, so…"

"Oh," says Yata weakly. "Yeah. I mean, okay."

She stands, snapping her purse shut, and sort of gives him a little pat on the arm.

"You're doing fine, really. Just try to breathe more—you look like there's a boa constrictor strangling you. See you around, Miyatagarasu."

"S-s-see—"

She's gone.

Yata sits back down and sort of just gasps for a few seconds. He touches his face with one finger and discovers that his skin is flaming hot. Damn that Saru for throwing me under the bus like that, that bastard… That was a fucking disaster any way you think about it…

"Done already?"

Yata jumps. Saru has somehow reappeared beside him.

"Don't tell me—you dropped that you were in HOMRA and she ran away."

"She had to meet a fucking friend, okay."

"Really. Is that what she said."

"Fuck you! Maybe if you'd actually given me some advice, she would've stuck around longer!"

"Advice is theory, and theory only works in theory. You need to practice."

"If you're telling me to go find another girl, I swear to God—"

"Then practice on me."

"What?"

"Just—try and use that limited imagination of yours, and pretend like you're talking to a girl. Okay? It's not like you even have the harder job here; I'm the one who has to—"

"It's a hard job either way if we have to pretend to fucking like each other! Besides, there's no way I can think of you as a girl."

Saru stares at him for a second, then suddenly drags a chair around the table and sits right in front of Yata. Like, right in front. Their knees collide. He can see his reflection in Saru's glasses. Yata balks, but Saru clamps a hand on his shoulder, preventing him from backing up.

"Wh-what the fuck, Saru," splutters Yata, trying to pick Saru's fingers off his sweater.

"Don't back up. I'm trying to make you uncomfortable."At this distance, Yata can smell mint on his breath. "Are you nervous?"

"Of course I'm fucking nervous! I feel like you're going to try and stab me or something."

"Perfect. Let's talk about the weather."

"What?"

"Tell me your name. Pretend."

"Y-Yatagara—"

"Look in my eyes when you talk to me." Obeying is a mistake: Saru's unblinking stare makes Yata feel like they're stuck in a staring contest. His skin crawls. "Stop moving your head so much—you look like you have a nervous twitch. And don't keep glancing away—any girl'd think you were bored, with the way you're acting." Yata feels Saru's fingers pinch his chin, brace-like, and steer his face back towards him. He wonders if this is how a mouse feels between a cat's paws. Saru's nails are long enough that they dig slightly into Yata's skin. "And don't cross your arms, it makes you look defensive. Now, what do you like?"

"I-I, um, I—" Damn it, it's working. He's nervous as all hell. His palms are sweating.

Saru laughs. Yata almost falls off his chair in shock because Saru never laughs. Then he realizes that it's fake, of course—but it's also damn convincing. He's become an even better actor than he was before.

"You're a funny guy, Yatagarasu-kun." Saru leans forward, and Yata tries with all his might to ward him off mentally, but when his right hand finally succumbs to the overwhelming temptation to punch Saru in the stomach, he finds that both his wrists are pinned down by his cold hands. Saru's face is all he can see and Saru's face is different, it's interested and engaged and his pupils are blown wide and his lips curve slightly upwards as if in spite of themselves; his indifference has vanished and Yata's walking blind, tightroping across this strange new land. Briefly, it occurs to him that this tightness in his chest, this wet-palmed feeling is exactly how he feels around girls, and that by extension Saru's actually doing a great job, and maybe he should really just keep playing this weird game…?

But it's all too uncomfortable, and Yata snaps, "Fucking let go of me, Saru!"

"I'm not Saru," Saru counters smoothly, and oh man, any last modicum of personal space Yata might have possessed is flying out the fucking window. "I'm someone you love, and I'm telling you right now that I like you a lot. What do you say to that?"

"I—I can't—Saru—"

"Yata, what're you doing?"

Inches from Yata's face, Saru's expression changes instantly; boredom slams back down over his face like steel shutters. He leans slightly back, his hands leaving Yata's wrists to echo the icy aftershocks of his skin.

"You didn't tell me you were bringing the fire brigade," he drawls. "Really, Misaki, I feel like next time I should bring Munakata with me just to even the balance."

"What the fuck is he doing here?"

Bando, Akagi, and Kamamoto circle the two of them cautiously, like hunters circling a wolf. Saru leans back in his chair and glances at them with hooded eyes. Yata can feel three curious stares boring like drills into his head, silently demanding an explanation.

When Saru stands, all three of them flinch, knees bending, backs hunching, fists rising—the posture of people expecting an attack. Funny, how Yata had almost forgotten that he was the enemy.

But Saru doesn't draw his sword, doesn't even acknowledge the other HOMRA members.

All he says is, "I'll see you around, Misaki."

And then leaves Yata to his drying sweat, racing heart and compromising situation, the bastard.

AN:

Sorry it took so long to write this, the ending just wouldn't work for me. If you have time, please drop a review!