---In lieu of all that I would otherwise say here in my usual interminable babble, I'll be brief instead. To all my reviewers, especially those who have stuck with this series from the beginning, (if there are actually any of those) a huge thank you! Your support has been the only thing that allowed me to finish this monstrosity. So here it is, perhaps not as great a fic as it could have been if it'd kept my attention longer, but done at least, at last ----

When we last saw the majority of our protagonists, they were milling around in some confusion. Hard to recover the momentum of the party after such an awkward moment as they had all helped engineer. The only one unaffected by the brief flare-up was Sakurako's fiancé, who, being bland and clueless, was too busy being drunk and awed at being invited to another of the F4's parties to comprehend the tensions that bound them all together.

But who really gave a shit about Sakurako's fiancé anyway? No one, not even Sakurako herself, though at least, since the sex was okay, she'd given up on the anger at being forced to marry the twit. And besides, if she ended up miserable and unhappy, then well, there were always boys around like Akira, who found the idea of screwing a married woman to be highly erotic. So then, that was that.

Sakurako chugged back another drink, and looked around the room. To her mind, the current tableau summed up their personal dramas pretty well. Over by the bar, Tsukasa was ranting and gesticulating furiously at Amon, who, when he wasn't rolling his eyes, was grinning in sardonic amusement. For, once more, Tsukasa was bitching him out for interfering with Tsukushi's life. Like his own 'help' had been terribly productive. Sakurako snorted, dumbass boys and their schemes. If there's one thing she'd learnt over the course of her acquaintance with the F4, it's that plans rarely worked as you expected them to. Indeed, usually they failed miserably. Though, who knew as yet, if this little play had flopped completely. But really, who cared it if had? It wasn't their place to go attempting to manipulate their friends' lives. Even if it was for their own good. Even if they were too damned incompetent to fix their problems without interference. If that's the way it had to be, then that's the way it would be. And that's life. Just like the Shigeru, Amon, Tsukasa mess. Whatever was up with that, and god only knew-- messing with it would just cause more problems than it was worth. Sure, Shigeru wasn't happy; trapped in a political match, doomed to be forever near her crush. But didn't she know? Love dies. Especially crushes. She could nurse it petulantly all she wanted, but it would die. She'd get over Tsukasa. Sakurako had. Sure, it'd taken a long time, but she had. So she knew, it was possible. And ok, sure, the affair with Amon just complicated matters a little-- or, fine, a lot. But at least, though Amon didn't return Shigeru's affections either, at least he was a far better friend to her, than Sakurako would have ever thought possible for one so like Tsukasa. And that was good.

Maybe, Sakurako thought, whimsically, and with a touch of envy, the boys would even get over their anti-Shigeru hangups and settle down into a respectable threesome. Who knew? Though, it would certainly tax the energies of anyone less hyper to deal with Both of those moody, high strung, violently passionate men. 'Course, Sakurako shrugged, Shigeru got to deal with all that now, just without the passion bit. So it wouldn't be that much of a step if the boys would just get over themselves.

But for now, Shigeru sat over in the losers corner, commiserating with Rui. For now, the lonely ones; friends with many, lovers to none. Attractive, Giving, but unloved. They'd just have to look harder or deal with their solitude. But at least Shigeru was smiling, and Rui was out of his shell. Plenty of life ahead for them both. Plenty of time to change their luck around.

Akira, bouncing around the room, fetching drinks, taunting Amon, laughing at Tsukasa, joking with Shigeru and Rui, still feckless and happy-go-lucky. Pretending to live it up, while he tried his best to look after everyone; the eternal mommy. Hell, someone had to do it, even if he was not always qualified to do the right thing. At least he tried hard. He just wasn't good at settling down. The little social butterfly; couldn't stay tied down , because he had too much he wanted to share with the world. And who knew just how he would cope when he had to assume his corporate responsibilities? Would he wither and die, or would he channel his energy into some sort of multitasking genius? Again, one could only wait and see.

It would be an interesting wait, Sakurako was sure. An interesting life ahead for them all. But now? Now was the time to drink.

And so they did.

--------

Yeah yeah, life goes on, and shit. But what about the sex?

Well, Sakurako's getting plenty, and so's Tsukasa (and Amon by extension), though every time, Tsukasa swears it's a lapse in judgement that'll never happen again, and that if he never sees Amon ever, he'll be happy. And you know what shit that is. And yeah. Akira gets around plenty. You know that.

Oh, you meant, do Soujiro and Tsukushi ever get it on?

Pfft. . . Inquiring minds want to know. Voyeurs!

Fine, fine, of course they do, this very night in fact. I mean, duh.

You want to read about it? Well of course you do.

It can't hurt to peek a little. So, pretend you're a fly on the wall, or a peeping Akira looking through a pinhole or an open window. . .

So right, there they were. Soujiro's room. An old familiar place, full of memory. Sometimes a room of loneliness, and sometimes of despair. But sometimes, cozy and comforting; a warm place to be held close beneath the blankets, with dim lights, and the sound of lovers' breathing.

So which is it tonight? I think, perhaps, we can dispense with the overarching angst. Just for a little while. After all, our two star-crossed lovebirds are trying to make their relationship work; each attempting new compromises, whatever it takes to avoid losing something precious. But it's difficult, yes? Making up after a long period of détente, there's bound to be awkwardness, especially with one so conservative as Makino Tsukushi.

The cab ride here had been uneventful, if a wee but chilly, for the severely underdressed Tsukushi, and punctuated by many a curious glance from the driver; which ceased only after Soujiro's flat cold glare, glimpsed only briefly in the rear view mirror, caused the poor man to break out in a cold sweat. Upon entering the house, the two had tiptoed quietly down the long hallways, deciding they'd rather not waken anyone who might question Tsukushi's unusual costuming. The destination, arrived at, at last; Soujiro's room. The conversation, muted, halting, a little tense. Attempts to recover lost ground, reopen closed lines of communication. Tsukushi, twitchy as Usual. Soujiro, veering between charming silliness, to sweet, to melancholy, in the blink of an eye, remembering, relearning, that it was not necessary to hide behind masks around Tsukushi. Sitting, comfortably, her head on his shoulder, until Tsukushi yawned and declared it was time for bed.

"And, finally, to get out of these stupid clothes!" Her exclamation of delight, as though she hadn't forgotten entirely what she was wearing while she and Soujiro had been chatting. (He, of course Had been oh so Very well aware of the mostly bare flesh pressed up against him. But he was a boy, so what can you expect from him?)

Reluctantly, Soujiro stood up, intending to go find some pajamas for Tsukushi to go change into. By now, he'd been well trained to humor her modesty, so he'd have to say that it came as a considerable surprise when instead of taking the pajamas from him, Tsukushi instead stood up, and, taking a deep bracing breath, threw her arms around his neck.

"Wha. . .?" Soujiro blinked in confusion.

"Sorry." Tsukushi blushed, "I. . .I just wanted to."

"Hell, Tsukushi." Soujiro grinned, recovering from his surprise, "You can hug me anytime you want to." Hell, of course she could, it was ever so much better than the cold stiffness they'd been enduring so much of.

"Mmm. . ." She murmured musingly, almost to herself, "It's hard. . . getting used to this again. . . but practice makes everything easier, right?"

"Right." Soujiro nodded, unsure of where this all was going.

"Right then." Tsukushi echoed more firmly, and pressed her lips to his. Still, in the back of her mind, she could here nagging reminders of his infidelity, but she ruthlessly tuned them out. Already, the more she tried, the fainter they sounded. Practice made perfect, and the more she practiced, she was sure, the closer she'd come to getting over it entirely. And that, she was sure, was a worthy goal. As for Soujiro himself, well, he wasn't going to say no to a good thing, now was he? Of course not. He responded carefully, sweetly, allowing Tsukushi to lead, only breaking it off after a long while to gasp, "Ok, that thing has really got to go."

Tsukushi looked down at the hard shells. Damn, she was so going to kill Shigeru later. She also wished she'd had the sense to take her clothes with her when she'd fled the party, or failing that, to at least have changed into something more comfortable when she'd first arrived at Soujiro's, 'cause those damned coconuts were getting in the way, again. She took another deep breath, thought for a few seconds about what she was going to do, hearing the echoes of Amon's advice in her ears, and finally, looked back up at Soujiro.

"Ok." Was all she said, while the heat spread across her cheeks. While Soujiro blinked down at her, Tsukushi stepped away slightly, and fumblingly reached for the ties around her back.

Whoa, was the first thought that penetrated Soujiro's brain. Yeah, he was a bit slow on the uptake, but after all, this was Tsukushi here. You know, the prude? Yeah.

"Let me." No, he was definitely not going to let a good thing pass him by. Shyly, Tsukushi turned around to allow him access to the excessively tight knots. She was blushing all over, a thought that embarrassed her even more, as it wasn't even like this was the first time Soujiro had seen her breasts, or touched them, or kissed them. . . But it was the first time that she'd taken the initiative, instead of letting him show her the way, and it was the first time she'd let him get this far since the Yuki incident. Another milestone met, and passed.

The offending item finally removed, was flung aside. Tsukushi heaved a sigh of relief, and wincingly looked down at the red marks outlining her breasts. "Ouchy. Damnit. Shigeru lied."

"Hmm?" Soujiro wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to his chest, so that he could rest his chin on her shoulder and peer down at her.

"She said they wouldn't hurt, wouldn't pinch my skin." Tsukushi griped, to cover her embarrassment.

"Ow.. " Soujiro commiserated, "That does look painful." But, being Soujiro, he damn sure well knew a way to take her mind off of it. Carefully, he brushed the hair back from her neck, and nuzzled her sensitive skin, working his way up until his breath tickled her ear, and he could feel her shiver against him. God how he had missed this! Her naïve responsiveness, her unschooled hesitations-- all telling him that he was the only one who'd ever touched her like this, that he was the one she'd chosen, the only one she wanted. No matter how unworthy he might be. So much of a drug, so much more addictive than a night in the arms of the most skilled, most beautiful temptress in existence. It was knowing that someone wanted him for more than his name, his money, his prowess. Wanted him despite knowing the worst of his failings. It made his blood burn. He wanted. . . . Well, he was a horny guy; you can guess what he wanted. If you think Tsukushi didn't know the same, then you're utterly delusional, but even still, she wasn't sure just how far she was willing to go tonight. All she knew, was that she was trying to keep an open mind. Though, seriously, it was hard to think when Soujiro was turning her around, kissing her again, running his hands in long caresses down her spine and up along her ribs, until every nerve tingled. Hard to think, when he lifted her impulsively, and dipped her back onto the bed, legs entangled, busy lips and tongues. Half lying on top of her, supporting his weight on one arm, using the other to trace possessive patterns along her hip and waist. Trying not to push too much, too fast, but reveling in the moment, in the way her lips parted for him, the way her fingers flexed and curled on his back, the rosy glow in her cheeks, the racing of her heart, the heavy breathing. And Tsukushi? Yup, still having trouble thinking, remembering why it was she'd ever been pissed at him, why it was that she'd denied herself this feeling. Vaguely, fuzzily, she wondered if she'd regret anything in the morning. She hoped not. After all, it was true, at this very moment, she loved him, and he her, so what should there be to regret? If she could find the words right now, she might ask Soujiro if what they were doing was right, but language escaped her. And besides, who needed words, when there was action and sensation?

And speaking of sensation, that damned grass skirt itched like hell, especially where Soujiro's legs tangled with Tsukushi's own. Damn it, now that she'd noticed, not even Soujiro's kisses could distract her. She desperately needed to scratch. To hell with it. Tsukushi's hand ceased its intricate tracings on Soujiro's back and stealthily slipped down to scratch her thigh. Ahhh. So much better! Except that, Soujiro had stopped with the kissing, and was leaning back regarding her questioningly, laughter in his eyes. And now she just felt awkward.

"Can't keep your mind on one thing at a time?" he teased breathlessly.

"It itches!" she blushed defensively. How embarrassing.

"Scratching while I'm trying to make out with you is simply not sexy, little working girl." Teasing to watch that scarlet blush deepen into crimson mortification. Until he relented, "But you're my working virgin, and I love you anyway." And he was lying about the unsexy bit anyway. How could he not find the woman he loved to be sexy when she was lying beneath him?

"Maybe. . . I should take the skirt off?" Tsukushi stammered hesitantly. She'd never let him see her that naked before. And there was the added embarrassment of the last minute costume change that Sakurako had insisted on. Her nervousness was not in anyway assuaged by the way Soujiro's eyes seemed to light up at the thought, or by the way he leaned down to growl in her ear,

"I certainly wouldn't object to that." Oh no, not at all. And he could see her tremble in fear or in anticipation, as she lifted her hips and wriggled hesitantly out of the skirt. Soujiro's eyes widened, asked the question a beat before his lips could utter the words, "A thong? You own a thong?"

"Sakurako." Tsukushi was beet red now. Damn her friends Damn them to hell, "She wanted us all to match at the party, Exactly." She looked like she was afraid it had been a terrible idea, that she must look an idiot.

"Tsukushi. . ." Soujiro drew a long shuddering breath as he looked down at then early naked girl beneath him, "You never cease to amaze me. . ." And man, did she look eminently fuckable. He wanted to touch, to kiss, to caress every centimeter. . . And fuck, if she didn't let him, he was going to have to spend more than a little quality time, just him and his hands relieving a severe overload of sexual frustration. Oh damn.

"Is it ok?" She still wasn't sure, still so embarrassed to be caught in something so different from her usual comfortable conservative underwear,

"Idiot. . . " Soujiro reached out and grasped one of Tsukushi's wrists. Seized by sudden temptation, he drew her hand in to him, brought it under his shirt, led it to caress his chest, his flat stomach, to flirt with the top of his jeans, near where a prominent bulge suggested just how ok it all might be. Until finally, he felt her relax enough to continue the caresses without his guidance. Featherlight teasing fingertips dancing unsurely across his burning flesh, while he mirrored Tsukushi's actions on her body, watching her arousal grow, until he judged it to be the proper time to divest himself of his own shirt. And then, a while later, his pants. And even later, her underwear. Later, leading her fingers lower. Later, the both of them naked, sweaty, hands and limbs entwined, slow explorations, gentle pleasure. Later, a pause, a question silently asked, silently answered, a pause to fumble in the nightstand drawer, the lessons continued, and then nothing but the sound of heavy breathing, of flesh on flesh, the throaty sounds of pleasure, the look of awe on Tsukushi's face, the heavy lidded ecstasy, the ultimate surrender for them both.

Finally, cooling sweat, naked bodies nesting together in sleep, smiling serenity. Exhausted fulfillment. Tomorrow, a new day. A new chapter in their lives. A fresh beginning. A new understanding. If there had been mistakes in the past, none were made this night. Though their paths might diverge someday, for now at least, they'd run together. For what else is love for, but to bring two people together?

And as for what the future would hold, who knew? The only certainty, that with this ensemble cast, it would be one big adventure, or many.

But that is not my place to tell.

For this adventure, at least, has run its course, and the protagonists lie exhausted from the marathon they've endured. Let's leave them now, and find our own adventures to endure, our own loves to torture us, elate us, leave us wounded and sore, sated, and content. Let us leave them, and find our own lives to Live.

END

"Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over."

---Questions, comments, flames, etc. email curdled.milk (at) g mail. com (minus the spaces) --cm--