A/N: In grand celebration of the launch of Part Two, a double-release in one! AKA LONGEST CHAPTER EVER. EMYM-Makes Me Want You will be updated with an elaboration of this chapter. As a side note, the full blended M-rated version is going live on AO3 if you don't want to switch back and forth.

I'm super excited to keep this story going and see each of the characters be challenged deeply, growing in who they are as individuals and, dare I say, as couples. Consider this Persie's promise that this fic will be COMPLETED and not left hanging. I never read "In Progress" fics unless I have the ability to personally harass the author because I'm terrified of being left in a lurch. To those who have risked it and trusted me while this is still "In Progress," know I GOTCHU.

And without further needless adieu...

XOXO

EVERY MOVE YOU MAKE: PART TWO

Mise En Place

The pen hovered over the page. Blank lines haunted him like a soulless stare. It needed filled, but he had nothing to pour out onto it. He let the pen tip dribble over the corner of the paper, twisted scribbly meanderings etching a reflection of his thoughts.

Twisted and scribbly. He scoffed, scrawling harsh black lines over the scribbles until the paper ripped beneath the tip. He didn't stop, ripping the hole wider as he etched marks on the counter-top. In a rush of anger he chucked the pen and pad across the counter, shoving his chair back with a scrape and stalking across the room to the window.

He tried to stare out at the scenery, but his eyes fixated on the smudged glass instead, just the right height for a hand print. His hand fit perfectly over top the smudge, pressing softly against the cool glass. He grimaced suddenly, pounding against the window with a tightly balled fist.

"There is no song," he whispered to himself, resting his forehead against the window.

Time passed slowly as Sho watched the glass fog and clear beneath his breath. The afternoon sun became bright and warm on his cheek. His joints complained of the long wait as he pushed upright, turning to leave. He shouldn't come back. That look of disgust- Sho shook his head, trying to clear the memories of the expressions he'd seen. His fault. He'd pushed the boundaries. He'd forced the question when there hadn't even been a question to begin with.

Because like Koga said, he was straight. He had always liked women. This was some aberration- a curse? Sho's mind latched onto the idea. One of his rivals cursing him. Kyoko? She'd take great pleasure in making him gay, he was sure of it. Koga was probably in on it. He'd been the first to…touch.

Sho bit his lip as he latched the door behind himself. He'd been the first, but today was not on him. It was on the absolutely straight man forcing his friend to experiment with him. Sho looked at himself in the reflection of the elevator doors. His eyes made the entire thought process ridiculous.

He had wanted it.

He still wanted him.

"Straight," Sho laughed mockingly. "What the f*** does that even mean?" The doors slid open and Sho stepped inside, his expression turned inward as the doors silently closed behind him.

He wandered, watching faces. Looking for clues.

Shoko called; he turned his phone off. Thirty seconds later he turned his phone back on, anxiously checking messages to make sure he hadn't called.

Shoko called again; he declined and blocked her number.

He got noodles at a street cafe and sat, stirring them without eating as he watched an elderly couple bicker over the amount of hot sauce appropriate to this stall's style of noodles. The lady won and triumphantly poured globs of spice over the noodles. The man's face grimaced, but his eyes were kind and lively as he gestured at her to stop.

Sho stood up, leaving his full bowl sitting on the table as he walked away.

Several hours later, he emerged from the grocery store staggering under the weight of plastic bags laden with ingredients. He had no idea what he'd bought, but he was going to go back to Koga's and get his shit in order. Mise en place.

The door opened just in time for Sho to drop a bag of bell peppers, sending them rolling down the hallway of the eleventh floor. Koga stood silently, his jacket and shoes on and keys in hand as he watched the red vegetables scatter. He bent and picked one up, turning without a word to walk back into the apartment. Sho was frozen in place, watching the door gently close.

Koga's foot shot out and propped open the door just before it shut.

"Are you coming?" his voice called from inside.

The words jolted him awake and Sho hefted his bags, kicking an errant pepper in front of him as he shoved the door open with his hip, pushing inside the apartment after Koga.

Throwing the pepper and keys onto the counter, Koga shrugged off his jacket and shoes and padded slipper-footed into the living room. Sho shifted the groceries, flexing his muscles for confidence. Remember who you are, he told himself as he shuffled into the kitchen to dump the mountain of groceries on the floor. Fuwa Sho.

Sho rolled up his sleeves, eyeing the pile of bags. Time to get his shit in order. He started randomly emptying the contents onto Koga's counter, purposefully dumping the first bag directly on top of the notepad he'd discarded earlier. Jars of sauce and cans of broth clanged against each other as they rolled out haphazardly. Sho cursed, throwing his arm out to catch a falling…light soy sauce? He looked at it curiously. Different from regular soy sauce? A jar of plum sauce crashed onto the floor, splattering its contents over the cabinet door. He heard a quick footfall as Koga ran into the kitchen.

"Are you—" Koga stopped, his eyes widening as he took in the mess. "You haven't even started cooking yet, and the kitchen looks ready to burn down."

Sho cringed a smile, hefting the soy sauce. "I got… ingredients…"

Koga eyed him suspiciously. "For what?"

Kicking a bag, Sho saw shrimp and flour slide out. "Ah - tempera! For tempera."

Koga's eyes widened.

"You think I'm going to let you fry in my house?!" His words exploded from him as he stalked to Sho's side, shoving the pile of jars a safe distance from the edge.

"I'm hoping you'll let me get my shit together at your house," Sho mumbled under his breath, setting the soy sauce down.

Koga rolled his eyes. "Mise en place." He poked Sho in the side of his ribs. "Move."

"I'm helping."

With a huff of disapproval, Koga fished for the aprons and threw the frilly one at Sho. "You'll watch. Start emptying those bags, on the counter." Sho snatched up the closest one and started to turn it upside-down, freezing mid-motion at Koga's yelp. "One at a time! One thing at a time."

Setting the items he'd randomly grabbed at the store on the counter with over-exaggerated care, Sho watched Koga. Watched that one curl fall forward over his eyebrow. Watched his fingers swipe it to the side and try to shove it behind his ear only to have it fall forward again. The muscles in his forearm twist, his tendons standing out sharply as he raised the heavy frying pan to the stovetop. Sho set an onion down on top of another onion, the round vegetable rolling off and thumping into the sink. Koga glanced at him, his face set in sarcastic question.

"Almost done," Sho said, hurrying to finish. He'd completely covered the counters with packaged food and fresh vegetables. Koga turned to survey his progress and gasped, his mouth gaping open at the collection on his counters.

"Who are you feeding?" he said, aghast.

"Us." Sho shrugged. "It was on sale?"

Koga just blinked, then walked over and started shoving food back into bags.

"Hey! I worked hard on that!"

"Where will we cook, Sho?" Koga scowled at him. He paused in his swipes, his hand encircling a pile of strawberry pudding. He looked at the singer, then pushed it to the side against the backsplash as he cleared away the vast majority of the other groceries. "Tempera. Eggs, water, flour, shrimp, fresh veg."

Sho nodded, pretending to take mental notes when he really just wanted to crack open a pudding. Koga sighed. He grabbed up a container, ripped the top off, shoved a spoon inside and thrust it at Sho. "Eat."

Sho noshed happily, moving to stand behind Koga and peer over his shoulder as he began chopping carrots. He leaned forward, bracing his arm against Koga's shoulder as he gestured with his spoon. "How do you make them so square?" Koga batted his hand away so he moved to lean against the counter next to him, scooping out more pudding as he watched Koga evenly slice the carrots into sticks.

Koga stole another glance at him. He seemed to make a decision, stepping back and wiping his hands on his apron. Wordlessly he pointed at the space he'd just occupied. Sho sat his pudding and spoon down to stand in front as Koga gestured at the knife and carrot. "Hold them the way I did; fingers back and straight. No, straight down. Sho-" Koga huffed as Sho tried but didn't make his fingers bend right. Koga's hand pressed down over his, pushing his fingers into position. His skin was soft. He could feel small, familiar-feeling calluses on the pads of his fingers.

"Do you play guitar?" Sho blurted, the carrot escaping from under his grip. Koga froze, his hand still laying on top of Sho's.

"Not as much anymore," he said quietly, moving his hand away. Sho's hand felt cold. He purposefully switched his knife grip before hacking at the carrot.

"Sho!" Koga shouted, grabbing Sho's wrist. "Are you listening at all?" Sho just smiled and squared himself off with the counter, pulling his hand away to try and cut again.

Koga gripped Sho's wrist more tightly. "Stop messing. You'll cut yourself." He tugged at Sho's arm. "Put the knife down." Sho pulled his arm out with a jerk, moving to start once more when Koga gripped his wrist, twisting and pulling Sho's arm down and out as he shoved against his hip. Sho spun to land back against the counter, the knife trapped behind him. Koga's eyes were angry as he held Sho immobilized. "Do not get stupid," he said coldly.

Sho couldn't hear him. Koga's charcoal-gray eyes were too close. Koga's leg braced up against him, pressing into him; his own body trapped beneath the actor's weight. His lips felt dry and he licked them. Koga shoved back, freeing Sho. He pulled the knife from Sho's hand easily, furiously chopping the vegetables.

Sho tried to step in and help but Koga brushed him aside. "If you're going to act like a child, you have no place here. Go eat your pudding."

Starting to mock him, Sho scooped up his pudding. He poked at it. He didn't really want it anymore. Koga's head was bent as he prepped, his neck bare below his curls. Sho tossed his pudding in the trash.

He walked over to stand next to Koga, leaning back against the counter and letting himself just watch. The other man cooked with ease, his face calm and closed as he whisked the batter. Sho reached over, closing his hand gently over Koga's and forcing him to stop.

"This I can do," he said softly. Koga's hand slid from beneath his, reaching out to turn on the burner under the oil. Sho stirred the tempera idly, his focus still on the way the man next to him moved. His shoulders seemed so broad; maybe the apron's lines accentuated them. Sho glanced down at his frilly bows and laughed, drawing Koga's gaze. He shrugged, holding out the bowl and pointing to his giant bow. Koga smiled and for a brief moment Sho glimpsed the dent in his jaw he'd caressed this morning. He felt his face rush with heat and turned away suddenly, pulling all the bowls toward him, trying to find anything to do to not look at Koga.

"Is it hot?" Koga said, making Sho jump.

"What? Is what? No— are you? I mean, you are— no, what?"

Koga raised his eyebrow at him. "Oil. The thermometer is in front of you."

Sho shoved the thermometer in the oil and nodded at the readout. "Hot."

Koga stood calmly next to Sho as he began dipping the sliced meat and vegetables into their batter and dropping them in the oil to bubble. Sho could feel his body heat. There was about six inches between their hands as they rested on the counter. Inches. "Hot," he muttered, his fingers flexing with his desire to feel Koga's warm skin again.

"Needs to be," Koga said simply. "Too cold and it'll get soggy." Sho stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Tempera. Soggy. Gross." Koga spoke slowly as he examined Sho for understanding.

Too many words. Not enough words. Damn it, Sho just wanted Koga's mouth to keep moving so he could watch it. He didn't care what he was saying. The sizzling oil in the background merged with the white noise in his mind as Sho raised his hand slowly and touched the corner of Koga's mouth. Koga twitched, jerking back.

Sho blinked in surprise. "Ah, you had— flour." He pulled off his apron and threw it on the counter to go sit on the couch.

"Done being useful?" Koga called from the kitchen after a moment passed.

Sho buried his head in his hand, reaching for the tv remote blindly. He wanted to run back in the kitchen and be the one to shove him against the counter. He wanted to wrap his hands around his jaw and hold him still, no speaking, no leaving. Sho flipped on the tv. He could feel his heart beating erratically. He needed to calm down or he'd do something stupid. He grabbed a blanket from off the back of the couch and slumped down sideways to lay across the cushions, burrowing down into the folds.

He could smell the tempera when Koga emerged, but he didn't move. He wasn't actually hungry. He'd just wanted to get his shit in order, but being around Koga only ever seemed to make it all worse. He closed his eyes, wanting to avoid a scolding for forcing Koga to cook. The plate clinked as Koga sat it down on the table. He heard a sigh, and the rustle of fabric as Koga shuffled off his apron and tossed it across the room. His head dipped and bobbed back up as the cushions moved beneath Koga's weight. A pause; a crunch of tempera eaten. Another pause. Sho barely managed to keep his eyes shut against the shock of Koga's hands gently lifting his head. His breathing stilled. Koga shifted and laid his head down on his lap, his fingertip running along the line of his haircut once before reaching forward to grab another piece of tempera and the remote.

His heart was going to give him away. No one could possibly be sleeping with their heart hammering in their chest like that. His mind was reeling, ricocheting off the sensations of warmth and gentleness and the hard muscles of Koga's leg. He could feel his own body growing warmer, responding instinctively to the other man's closeness. Sho wanted to move desperately, to shift his weight, to open his eyes, to wrap his arms around the actor's waist and force him to acknowledge him.

He lay perfectly still.

Last time he'd moved, it had all snapped.

The smell of the tempera slowly faded as it grew cold. Koga switched off the light at some point, making it easier for Sho to keep his eyes closed. He was nowhere near drowsy though, his mind afire with every shift, every breath taken by the man above him. The tv kept droning on. Eventually Koga's breathing slowed; a twitch of sleep jerked his leg. Sho risked opening his eyes and rolling slightly to glance up.

Koga's head rested against the back of the couch, one arm draped over the edge and the other resting on the armrest. His eyes were closed, his mouth open just slightly in the slackness of sleep. That single curl rested over his left eye again. Sho reached up one shaky hand and brushed it to the side, feeling the soft skin near his temple. He gulped, trying to swallow down his own desire. He could feel his body still awash with heat, demanding release from the torture of the day. He ached with a deeply physical need to carve his own memories on this man. Sho sat up, his hand resting between Koga's legs as he studied his face. He had a choice. Wake him up, kiss him hard and rough and show him in one moment all the ways he was messing with Sho's mind, demanding answers and commitments- or go take a shower and get rid of this need by himself.

He leaned in close, until he could feel the warmth from Koga's skin on his own.

He couldn't. Not today. Not after this morning. Sho stood up slowly, his pants uncomfortably tight, and draped his blanket over Koga's lap. Time for a shower.

Koga woke up when his hand slipped off the back of the couch and hit empty cushion. He frowned in sleepy confusion. There had been someone- his eyes opened slowly. His lap was empty.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep. Hell, he hadn't meant to let Sho in. He looked at the almost full plate of cold tempera on the table. No use arguing with himself; the sight of the singer in the hallway surrounded by rolling peppers was exactly what he wanted to see after tonight. And exactly what he didn't need.

"Mmmmm," Koga groaned at himself. Why was it always a straight man? Was it some intimacy issue? Maybe he needed to see a therapist. First it was Tsuruga consuming his mind. Now he kept letting Fuwa in his life, over and over again, as if he were begging for something to happen. He could still feel residual warmth lingering on his legs. He needed to go back to The Annex and find someone who actually wanted to be with a man. Even just a fling would be healthier than this.

He stood, wrapping his blanket around himself as he shuffled to the bathroom. The light was on. He could hear the water running, and - panting breath. Koga froze, his heart in his mouth. He needed to turn around, walk back to the couch, and go back to sleep. His hand slowly turned the doorknob instead.

Steam and light escaped the small gap; steam and light surrounded Sho as he showered. His hand braced high against the wall, fog on the glass paneling obscuring most of his body except for his face. Sho's head rocked back, his teeth bared and eyes shut. Koga felt heat rush through his body as the singer moaned, the sound rising from him to fill the small space with his voice. The rich, deep timbre of desire pulled from a musician's core. The singer's shoulders jerked; his mouth opened in a gasp, a shorter, sharper sound escaping him. Koga's hand shook as he shut the door, sliding down against it, the blanket pooled around his feet.

His hands shook as primal need overwhelmed him. Sho's voice- Koga moaned, feeling a tightness growing within him as he let himself admit how badly he wanted to be the cause of that sound.

"Damn," he muttered, his head slumping against the door.

He heard the water turn off and picked himself up off the floor. He kept busy in the kitchen, making obvious noises to show how far away from the bathroom he was located. Sho emerged, his hair mussed by a towel, Koga's robe wrapped around him.

"Ah," the singer said quietly. "Sorry I fell asleep. And- I took your robe. Can I, ah, borrow some clothes?"

Koga nodded, pointing silently at the guest bedroom.

"Then leave," he said simply.

Sho stared at him.

"Leave? It's-" He craned his neck to peer at the clock. "Two A.M."

"You come here, you fill my kitchen with trash food, you force me to cook for you to stop you from burning down the house, then you pass out on my couch, wake me up in the middle of the night, and steal my clothes."

Koga met his eyes, trying to hold every emotion back from his own.

He would stop this dance. He would put an end to the temptation to make this into something more than it was before he crossed the line again. He was pathetically close to it, stealing comfort from Sho while he slept, and now - he grimaced at his lack of control - even watching him shower. He was dangerously close to losing. Dangerously close to trying to force himself on Sho. Even now he could feel the pull to walk over and rip the robe off him and draw rougher, sharper, deeper sounds from his mouth. He knew how it would end - how it always ended when he chased someone straight. He would not be used and thrown aside for someone's artistic inspiration.

"You're lazy, incompetent, and self-centered." He threw the words at Sho in desperation. Leave. "You're a child, Fuwa. Go make your manager babysit you again."

Sho stood quietly on the other side of the room, a strange look in his eyes, his hand fiddling with the tie of the robe.

"I'm trying." The words were simple and strangely pure. Koga winced, turning away to hide his expression from him.

"Koga-"

"Not anymore, Fuwa," Koga said. He would put an end to this. He could hear Sho walking over and clenched his fist. If he let him come in the kitchen he wouldn't be able to hold back. He could already see in his mind's eye exactly where to pull on the tie of the robe, undoing it in one smooth motion.

"I can change," Sho said, his voice soft. "I'll learn to cook - I haven't ever actually tried, it was just too fun to mess with you. I can - I know how to clean; I've watched Kyoko…" his voice trailed off. Koga held his hand up.

"Change your clothes, Fuwa. Then leave."