A/N: Can you tell I'm making this up as I go? This is seriously taking over my brain. Go Shirley/Lelouch!

Feedback: Por favor. Concrit welcome.

Lately, her unconscious was wreaking havoc on her nights.

The long shadow the morning sun cast in front of Shirley reminded her too much of the black figures she tended to see before waking up too soon.

Her hand obscured her vision as she rubbed the spot above her brows.

"Ow."

Him. Again. Her stomach plummeted.

"Sorry," she apologized after crashing into Suzaku's back. "I'm so clumsy. I didn't mean to."

"No problem," he said. "Are you OK?"

She nodded.

"Just a little sleepy," she yawned, covering her mouth. "Been studying a lot, you know?"

Arms raised, she stretched upward to shake herself into awareness. If she didn't know any better, she would've missed the lower pitch of his voice.

"I've been meaning to ask," he started. "Have you noticed anything strange lately? Any reason for why anyone would be missing class so much?"

Warm up exercises suddenly remembered, she twisted the top half of her body to one side, mostly as a reason not to face him directly. She wasn't sure she'd mastered lying straight faced yet.

"Not really," she replied, twisting to the opposite side. A soft breeze touched her outstretched fingers.

"Really?" he pressed. "Because I was just thinking-"

"Good morning."

Between conspiring and outright deception, timing was quickly becoming one of Lelouch's strengths, she observed.

"Hey," Suzaku greeted him.

Shirley rolled her head forward in a half circle. The bell rang before anymore words were exchanged. She thought she saw Lelouch aim a dark look at the back of Suzaku's head.

She started forward, somewhat more alert than before.

-

Chemistry was boring, she conceded, even though she made sure to double check her homework for fear of repeating the class.

Shirley stayed afterwards to put away the materials used in Wednesday's experiment on identifying metals by the color of the flames produced. Coincidentally (although she doubted the validity of that), it was Lelouch's turn for classroom duty as well. She was pretty sure she'd seen Rivalz name next to hers on the class list the last time she checked.

She was too preoccupied to question it any further.

The scene at the bar replayed in her mind.

The candy. Partnering up for class. The whatever-it-was at the bar. Helping her with math.

He'd been making it up to her discreetly in small increments of kindness. It was exactly what she wanted. Once, a long time ago. Now she had no idea what she wanted.

And Suzaku kept her on edge, hinting there was more she knew about Lelouch.

A graduated cylinder made the mistake of sliding out of her soapy hands and shattered on the tile floor. She cried out when a glass shard cut her shin and limped a few steps away to hop on the nearest table top.

Before she was able to raise her leg and assess the damage, he had already kneeled before her to look at the wound. A thin trickle of blood darkened the hem of her black sock as he opened the first aid box beside him.

His hands were gentle when he crouched before her and placed her foot on his thigh. She whimpered when she felt something move under his probing fingers. Instinctually, her leg kicked, pushing him back.

"It hurts," she hissed.

"Stay still," he ordered, meeting her eyes for the first time in too long. Despite the dulcet rumble, his authoritative voice didn't allow for arguments.

"Sorry," she apologized, looking away and biting down on her anger.

Her jaw clenched when she saw the tweezers in his hand. She didn't dare breathe when she felt the invading cold metal on her skin. She bit down on her lip, hard.

Don't pity me.

Her fingers maintained a death grip on the edge of the table as he extracted the piece of glass. Her knuckles were paler than she'd ever seen when she finally let go. He lifted her ankle to rest on the back of a chair, as the thin red trail redirected its course along her calf.

"You won't need stitches," he announced as he pressed a piece of gauze on her skin to mop up the blood.

He said soothing words she couldn't remember as he cleaned up the cut with peroxide to soften her grimace. They both watched the foam arise above the tiny red pool before he wiped it off.

"Thank you," she said as he placed a large bandage over the cut.

Stop making it up to me.

He meant to ask her why she had been so obviously avoiding him, careful to in keeping her distance. By whatever miracle that would have made it remotely possible, she didn't know, right? She couldn't know where his not-so-casual vacations from class led. And what was going on with Suzaku?

But then, his eyes swept up from that cut, up to her knee and then a little beyond that. She was wearing red panties under that tiny skirt.

She wasn't oblivious how he stared at her leg, looking further up from where the small wound had been inflicted. He was scorching her under his scrutiny, the same as when she'd put that dress on and accidentally modeled it in the student council room.

He stood up slowly to see that she hadn't bothered to pull down her skirt, a thigh more than half uncovered. From the angle he was looking up at her, she was sure he could probably see more than she ever meant to show him.

After several long minutes of silence, he moved forward, standing and coming closer.

"You're bleeding here, too," he said, voice low.

"It really hurt," she found herself saying.

"Oh."

And again, that dark look in his eye mesmerized her when his thumb swept over her lower lip. Slowly. Gently. Something in her snapped abruptly when she grabbed his wrist. His eyes widened a fraction when she took his thumb in her mouth, soft tongue sweeping over his fingertip.

"It's my blood," she said simply, perplexing him when she let go.

The handsome frown on his face was too much for her at some point. That, and the angle in which he leaned, so close. Too close for her not to notice how much she wanted she wanted to bite down on his lip instead.

There was no plan she had in mind when she grabbed the collar of his jacket and yanked him forward.

The taste of tea and scent of fresh linen tinged her senses. His hair felt silky in her fists.

And like the first time she'd kissed him (the time she was supposed to never recall), his arms came around her automatically, pressing closer to her.

Her fingers twitched in response to his proximity, an urge to dig her nails into his skin.