Tomoe/Kenshin, as promised!

No warnings this time I don't think. Not even character death. It's sole purpose is to be sweet. The only angst really are the two parts that tie into "The Greatest Flaw" (so no Enishi because that does lead to much more angst than I want).

Actually, I lied. Warning: Heavily implied sex with extreme run-on sentences. Someone tell me if I should change the rating. Also, shameless fluff.

Note: Keep in mind that it's AU-ish, so the romance isn't as rushed. It isn't like, okay, let's go declare our love for each other and then die! (though, in actuality, it worked quite well in the actual manga/OVA. I just don't think it works with this particular story and the way I set up the other one shots' pacing)

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

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"The Snowman Chronicles"

He doesn't know what to do with her. It's as simple as that.

Sometimes he thinks he detects a smile, but she shows expressions even less than she does. It unnerves him. The way she makes him feel does too. Like there's a tightness in his chest every time he looks at her. It isn't a bad feeling but it isn't a good feeling either. Just a little hurtful sometimes and despite his tendencies, he really does hate pain. He isn't sure what this feeling is or why he wants to be around her while at the same time he wants to be as far away as possible. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, he'll hurt her one day. He's hurt everyone in his life in one way or another.

Suddenly he hears a small gasp of pain. He looks up from the wood he's stacking, having finished moving some of it inside before the snow hits, and finds Tomoe sucking on the inside of her thumb. His senses are sharp and he can smell blood. His shoulders relax and he realizes all she's done has cut herself. He stands, moving across the floor silently, and she startles when he touches her shoulder. Instantly, he feels guilty.

"Take care of your thumb," he says, giving her a small smile. He's still trying to get used to that. It hasn't been nonexistent this past year but it's been rare. "I'll finish the cooking." She looks at him doubtfully, silently. "Don't worry, I'll try not to make anything too horrible."

She bows slightly - too formal, not at all what he's used to. "Thank you," she says, turning and walking the few steps it takes to get to the medical supplies he never touches outside of his false job. If it weren't for the years he'd spent dealing with his own illnesses or injuries, this never would have worked. He learned quickly that Tomoe had little knowledge about healing outside of household remedies but she picked up on it fast and made the worker neater than he ever could.

Methodically, he cuts up the radishes and forgoes any attempt to remember why this feels so familiar. Tomoe appears again a moment later, dark brown eyes looking at him imploringly. As much as he hates to admit it, he's embarrassed that the two of them are the same height. He hopes he has some growing left in him and that Shishou wasn't right when he said he would probably end up small because he wasn't fed enough before his training.

She says, "I can take over again if you'd like," in a voice as soft as a child. Other women in the inn were nearly as loud and boisterous as the men, caught up by their own freedom and he remembers what that feels like. Tomoe's more like that one geisha who's friends with Katsura.

He knows he should tell her either yes or no, but something stops him. "Do you want to work together?" he asks instead and it takes legitimate effort to stop his cheeks from coloring. He quickly looks down, averting his gaze. "I - I just mean that it might be difficult for you to cut with a hurt thumb and -"

Then he hears it. The quiet laughter that's even rarer than her smiles and he never quite knows how to act when faced with it. "I understand," she says and he sneaks a glance. She's no longer laughing, but there's the slightest upturn of her lips that causes that weird, tight feeling in his chest again. As she gathers some of the radishes to mix with the soup, she continues, "It will go faster that way anyway."

The preparation of this meal and the consumption of it should finish in silence as it usually does because neither have much to say and he's too awkward to even try, but he suddenly says, "I'm sorry we aren't able to get better food."

She looks up as she stirs the soup and he finishes cutting up the radish stems. It was forced into him at a young age to use everything to given to him, to leave nothing for granted, though he can't remember exactly when the lesson was first taught. This lack of memory should scare him, but it rarely bothers him. On the contrary, he tries not to think about. So what's bringing this on now?

"It doesn't bother me," she tells him. "Why do you ask?"

He's embarrassed again. This isn't an unusual feeling as it happens easily, but this is a different type. And it frustrates him because he doesn't get it. "Well," he answers, still avoiding her gaze, "it's just that you're probably used to more, and better."

"Because my father was a samurai?" He nods and the battle against blushing is officially lost. He shouldn't have said anything. "I suppose that's true, but...I don't mind. Do you?"

There's a quiet moment before he answers because for once, he doesn't feel like lying. "I don't really like eating," he says, knowing that he sounds like a fool and wondering why he cares so much about what she thinks of him. "I was very sick when my training began and I couldn't hold much down. My shishou eventually taught me that it was necessary, but now that I'm away, I forget."

She blinks and he realizes that this is most he's ever said to her at one time. But it's one of his more talkative days for the first time in a while, which, now that he thinks about it, scares him. When he gets too much energy, bad things tend to happen. "No wonder you're so little," she tells him in a stronger voice than he's used to and there's an edge of teasing. The embarrassment doubles. "I apologize, that wasn't unwarranted."

"You don't need to apologize. I've gotten it since I was young, I'm used to it."

"Really?"

"In the beginning, no one took me seriously. Everyone made fun of me. Some still do."

"Doesn't it bother you?"

He gives no answer, but he knows she understands anyway.

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Suddenly, one early night, she bursts out, "I hate winter!"

He looks up at her in surprise from his place on the floor where he tends the fire. He has the thinner blanket wrapped around his shoulders and her sleepwear is not nearly warm enough for this weather. "What?" he asks, confused because Tomoe's never complained in front of him before.

"I'm from much farther south than this," she explains and this he already knows and finally makes the connection. "It's much warmer there this time of year. I'm not used to this kind of cold."

He, who is from much further north than both here and Kyoto, is unfazed by the weather. Then he makes a spontaneous decision, unsure whether or not this is considered remotely decent because they aren't really married, and holds out one arm. "You'll be warmer over here," he says, feeling dumb.

There's an obvious hesitation and she must be very desperate because she does come over, fitting perfectly in his outstretched arm. She takes that side of the blanket for him and he lets go, deciding he shouldn't be touchy, and they pull the fabric together. Two bodies so close together instantly heats up their small area, especially with such proximity to the fire. Simultaneously, they lean back against the wall. She still smells of white plum.

For a while they sit like this, saying nothing. It doesn't feel as awkward as he thought it would and gradually he relaxes. Her shoulders no longer feel tense either and eventually she begins to nod off. Once she finally does, she falls against his side, body loose and boneless, ki more serene and subdued than usual. He allows them to stay in this position for a moment or two before he picks her up gently as to not wake her, and lays her down under the covers of their futon, moving it closer to the fire that he swears he isn't scared of in any way.

When the flames finally go down, he falls asleep himself, curled up against the cold wooden walls.

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Kenshin, unwilling to subject Tomoe to the outside while it's snowing this thickly, went on the house call on his own. When he comes back he's shivering and wet, reminded very strongly of his training days. By this point his nostalgia is a dull ache, but moment like this bring it back with full force. Tomoe's eyes widen slightly at the sight of him and she grabs a towel, rushing over to him as he shuts the door.

"Take down your hair and start drying it off," she tells him and it isn't the first direct order she's given him. Normally it's eat more or go to sleep, Kenshin. "And go sit by the fire, I'll find your other yukata."

He nods, teeth chattering too much for him to really say anything or do anything but numbly listen to her. As he takes a seat by the fire, he pulls out the tie holding back his hair and begins toweling it dry, noting that it's getting longer and he needs to cut it. When it gets too long, it gets too heavy and it gives him headaches. She returns a moment later with a change of clothes before quickly disappearing to the other side of the house, busying herself with something that allows her to stay turned around. It's how they change; he's too embarrassed to either see her or have her see his wreck of a body.

"I'm done," he says as he finishes, leaving his hair down so it'll try faster, though he's gotten out the most of the moisture. She turns and he's standing now, hanging up the wet yukata on the clothes line they have by the fire. He's still freezing but he's taken control of the shivering. Cold doesn't bother him so much. "Thank you, Tomoe-san."

It's then that he notices how strangely she's looking at him. Before he can ask what's wrong, she says, "We can sit by the fire again, if you'd like," and her cheeks are dusted a light pink. She's blushing. They are two of the most uncomfortable people ever and he's self-aware enough to understand this. He nods, failing to find words, and she picks up the thicker blanket. He situates himself so he's closer to the wall and she comes over, taking her place and they mimic that fortnight ago, curling up together.

Her body is warm and he feels better. It's not just the heat either, but also her closeness. Early on, it made him shaky and nervous but lately it's been something closer to comforting even though it hurts at the same time. And that hurt is something he's beginning to understand but denies fiercely because he should never subject anyone to that. He doesn't deserve anyone either. Not with his hands so stained with blood and only a few months ago proved that (he doesn't like to think about that either because repression really is his best friend).

"You're warming up," she murmurs, words almost too soft to really exist. Shishou used to say it sounded like he was hearing thoughts rather than Kenshin really speaking and sometimes he feels like that's what they're doing to each other. A little clearer, she adds, "Are you feeling better?"

He tries out that smile again. "Yes," he answers and then decides to take another risk.

It's tentative, but when he takes her smaller hand in his, she doesn't object. Instead she laces their fingers together and sends a small smile of his own. It's simple and borderline meaningless but the pain is causes is so strong it feels physical.

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The blanket becomes something of a ritual, even on nights when the temperature isn't quite as cold. And about too weeks in, he doesn't know what possess him, but he turns to the side and kisses her.

There's a moment where nothing happens and he goes to pull away and apologize profusely, but to his great surprise, she reciprocates. It's obvious she's never done anything like this before and he goes about it slowly, also trying not make it seem like he's particularly used to this even though he has been since he was -

When it ends, he pulls back first and her eyes open, staring at him. He stills wants to say he's sorry but the words catch in his throat because she doesn't seem afraid. "Oh," she says weakly.

"Yeah," he answers, which isn't much of anything at all.

Then she hesitantly moves in again and for a moment, everything disappears. It's just the the unofficial Himura couple kissing in the warmth of a small house, the rest of the world no longer existing.

And in this moment, the pain fades away.

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It feels like everything progresses quickly, even if it doesn't in actuality and, well, he's done it but in a lot of aspects he really is still virgin. She is too and it's fumbling and too nervous to mimic what - Or, not really because it is different and she's female and he's not -

He's scared still too even though it makes no sense because he's in control so it's completely different and he doesn't want to make it seem like he has any experience at all because it's uncomfortable and he doesn't really and it surprises him a lot because it's backwards and it's obvious that he's doing something right because it hurts at first but he tries to be gentle and not freak out and she likes it and ohwhataretheydoing and just fuck.

After it's over the two of them don't look at each other and both their faces are bright red. He's lying down for once and they're facing in opposite directions and it still feels all backwards and wrong but right at the same time and he's used to confusion but this is confusion on a whole new level. And embarrassment, that too. And, shockingly, he doesn't remember exactly why he knew what he was doing or what he was thinking or why it feels all backwards and wrong (because he doesn't remember that for the equivalent to eight months it was all he knew but worse and terrible reversed) and that scares him.

But what gets him even more is when, after some undetermined amount of time passes, he feels a hand touch his arm. He turns, even more confused than before and it slips into his, fingers laced again. He tries to say, "I -" but it dies right there.

The smile she gives him is nervous. "Me too," she tells him.

Not sure what else to do, he scoots closer and moves to he lies on his back. She stays on his side and slips up against him, using his chest as a pillow. In the dying light, he doubts she noticed all the scars. He also thinks that how loudly his heart is beating will keep her awake but as it slows and steadies out, she drifts off and he's forced to admit it.

Damn it all to hell, but he's madly in love with this woman and nothing can change that.

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"I raised my little brother. His name is Enishi."

Her voice is as soft as it originally was. They're curled up against the wall in their blanket, hiding from the white world outside and the falling sky. Now that everything has happened, social norms have been thrown to wind and they sit tangled together. Her words are unexpected but appreciated because he hates hearing nothing but the crackling fire. Though they don't talk much, there's always something small for him to hear but today there's nothing. The snow is muting the world.

He doesn't say anything and she continues, "My mother died in childbirth and my father was distant, so I raised him even though we're not far apart. He's twelve right now. I know you're only three years older, but you don't seem it. I think it's my fault, but he still acts very young. I was five and thought the best thing to do was shelter him."

Though she's never talked about her family before, he does remember her saying she has no family and takes note of the present tense. "Why did you come to Kyoto?" he asks and shivers at the gust of the wind that comes through the thin walls. It's colder than usual.

"My father and I came to a disagreement," she answers. Her grip on his hand has tightened slightly. "Part of it was about Enishi. He said I wasn't raising him to be enough of man and I was going to ruin him. I knew this argument was going to come soon enough and thought that if I were to be married, my husband could do what I was unable to. And...well, originally that was going to happen, but when this happened it was no longer a possibility.

"I was engaged. His name was Akira. I know the village people think that I'm cold, but I'm just not very good at showing how I feel and I was never able to express to Akira my own feeling. He went to Kyoto to prove himself and was killed. After that argument, I wasn't quite disowned but I knew that for at a while at least, I was no longer welcome. I could think of nowhere else to go when I left. Then I met you and, I don't know. It's better now. Somehow. I thought I'd forgotten how to smile."

Kenshin doesn't understand much about love, but he knows a lot of about heartbreak. Normally it's his own fault and he should have known that there was something like this. He feels like a replacement suddenly, any growing feeling of hope shattered but that doesn't mean he's stopped loving her. And though he doesn't say this, he tells her, "I'll always protect your happiness, Tomoe."

She touches his face, right on the scar, and smiles but there are tears in her eyes.

"Thank you, Kenshin."

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There's something wrong with him. He's known this for a while now and feels guilty because so many people have tried to help him - Shishou, Katsura, Okami, He Who Will Not Be Mentioned Ever - but right now he has to confront it in a way that he hasn't had to before.

When he wakes up, he's lying on the futon with a shaking Tomoe bending over him, her normally apathetic expression twisted with worry. After he opens his eyes, dazed, Tomoe leans back so that she's sitting on her knees and he forces himself into sitting position, trying to ignore the splitting headache. "Did I pass out?" he asks, confused because the last thing he remembers is reaching up to get one of the clay bowls they stupidly put up on the shelf closest to ceiling when both are too short to reach it. Then he notices that his arm hurts and when he looks down, he sees that it's bandaged. Outside still has the lightness of early morning. "What happened?"

"I don't know," she answers, pressing her fingers to her lips. "You couldn't reach the bowl and it fell and broke and then I'm not really sure. You froze and started saying something about - well, you were speaking Japanese but your accent was different and I didn't recognize half of the words but you mentioned that someone was going to hurt you and -" There's a catch her voice, a shake of her shoulders and he feels so guilty that his mind has shut itself down. "Kenshin, you just stopped breathing because you were panicking and passed out. I caught you and you're so light. I brought you over here and fixed up your arm where the clay had cut it but what happened? What was that? You were terrified."

He feels numb when he says, "I don't remember." She's not crying again but looks about to. "I barely remember anything before the age of nine and - well, my family were farmers so I spoke differently and I guess it was that. I'm so sorry for scaring you."

Suddenly her arms are around his neck and he doesn't know what else to do, so he hugs her back. She's not shaking, but she's definitely afraid. Not of him, though, he realizes, but for him. "I tried to talk you out of it," she tells him, voice muffled by his shoulder. "I called you Kenshin and you looked at me like you didn't know yourself."

It's a struggle, trying to remember why that could by, but all he comes up with is the name Shinta. He doesn't understand who that is or what it means. A brother, maybe?

(it's always worse in the aftermath and his mind is disconnected worse than usual)

He goes to apologize again, but she says, "I lied to you, before."

"What?"

"When you 'passed out' that day you were stabbed in the shoulder. You didn't faint. You froze up and said you were doing so well and I got you over to the windowsill. I could actually understand you then, and when you came to I thought it wasn't a good idea to tell you the truth. I should have. I'm so sorry."

That he remembers, or at least the beginning and the end. "I should be the one who's apologizing," he says, finding his voice. "I scared you. I understand why you lied and I'd explain but I can't. I'm sorry I put you through this. Twice."

Now she leans back again and reaches up, brushing his hair from his face. "If it happens again, I won't lie to you," she says. "It's going to be all right. I promise."

"Okay."

The experience drains him though, and later, when they sit inside their cocoon of a blanket, he can't keep his eyes open. Before he officially drifts off, he hears, "I will always protect you, Kenshin."

He's probably imagining it, but it's still nice.

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"Have you ever had a snowball fight, Kenshin?"

The two of them are nearly to their home, wet from the snow even though it isn't quite as cold as usual. "No," he answers. "Why?"

She's shivering but doesn't seem particularly bothered by it for once. She tells him, "When I was thirteen there was the worst snow storm my area had in nearly twenty years and I brought Enishi out to play with the other boys. Then today I saw the children here and I don't know. I realized I never have."

"I haven't either," he says. Then he repeats, "Why?"

To his surprise, she bends down, gathering snow in her hand and forming it. "This," she says as she compact it together, "is how you make a snowball."

Their small house is secluded, on top of a hill and mostly hidden from view of others so it won't arose suspicion if they act like children. Or at least this is his reasoning when he picks up a clump of snow and mimics her actions. "Like this?"

"Just like that."

He feels her body move and blinks, looking up, which gives him just enough time to dodge an oncoming snowball. Instinctively, he throws the one in his hand back and hears a yelp followed swiftly by laughter. Tomoe's cheeks and lips are flushed red from the cold and she's already forming another snowball. In all this time with her, he's never seen her look so happy. "You want to have a fight?" he says, smile slowly coming to him as well. "With me?"

"Why not?" she says, throwing the second snowball and he dodges, scooping up more white fluff to retaliate. He feels giddy and stupid and very young. "Just pretend that it's fair!"

So he does.

After it ends, the two are lying on their futon, pressed close and shivering with the heavy blanket beginning to provide warmth. They're laughing again, the unfamiliar sound bouncing around the wooden walls. And when the laughter fades and they're left breathless and smiling, he tells her, "I love you."

There's his heart, laid bare between them and he gives her the change to break it. But then she doesn't.

"I love you too," she says and for a while they lay there, quiet.

And Kenshin feels happy.

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I just saw The Hobbit for the second time with my mom and needed something cheerful and I only had that ending part left. Also, shameless story promotion! Basically, I got really bored and have half of a modernized Tomoe/Kenshin story coming up because I'll probably finish within the next day or so. And, I do not feel bad to this in the slightest. The RK archive doesn't get enough love.

Happy whatever-you-celebrate!