Ugh . . . first, I'd like to point out that the ONLY reason I took so long on this chapter is because my
house was hit by Hurricane Frances and I lost power for a week. No power. For a WEEEEK. The
pain . . . it still hurts . . . So yeah, don't blame me! Hmph.

That, and I have to send my thank yous to R Amythest and Scarabsi. For listening to my constant
rants on pretty much nothing at all. And for getting on my butt about the little stuff, and bolstering my
ego to unhealthy sizes. Heh.

I'm going to skip the obligatory last-chapter "I enjoyed writing this blah blah blah" speech and get to
the action now. It IS sort of short, but then, most of the chapter is a single incredibly fluffy scene. And
it is, if I can brag slightly, the best scene of it's type I think I've ever written. I've stretched myself on
this one . . . I think . . . I think this chapter has everything that a fic needs for a happy ending, but
unfortunately for you guys, it's not enough of a happy ending to up the rating to R . . . heheee . . .

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Throb.

Ow.

Tap.

I tapped my pencil on my desk thoughtfully, in beat with the throbbing in my head. Throb. Ow. Tap
. Throb. Ow. Tap. The fact that the tapping was a continuous staccato didn't escape me, but at least
the throbbing wasn't as intense as it'd been earlier.

Wonder what Matthew was doing . . . it was past six . . . maybe he was napping . . . on that big, soft
bed of his . . . mmm . . .

Why did I c-care about THAT?

I looked around at my file cabinet. Wil had just organized it for me last week, but the problem with
that was that his 'organization' was in some incomprehensible method of color-coding and the client's
date of birth. I'd have to fix that . . . Matthew hadn't bothered to organize his old files, since he said
that they were already finished, so why bother?

I scowled at the wall blankly. Why was Matthew always popping up in my head? I'd just seen him an
hour ago. I'd not seen him before that for over two years. W-Why was I . . .

I forced my self to think of something different . . . like . . . Wo Dao. My cat was a safe subject, a
stray tomcat and at times my closest friend. Sad, I know. Although, it was odd how Matthew had
known about him when I'd gotten him after I'd left Matthew's employment . . .

. . . Matthew . . . I sighed. I almost sorta wished he . . . was . . .

My head jerked up suddenly (Ow.)

I-I was MISSING him. W-What's with that? Yes, I did want his body, unfortunately for me, but that
didn't give me a reason to actually MISS him. His grin, his infuriating perky outlook, his . . . his HAIR
. . . How could I miss his hair? It was a regular honey blond, and messy to boot . . . probably soft too
. . ..

I almost banged my head on the desk, to reprimand myself for my train of thought, but that'd probably
knock me unconscious. While my head wasn't hurting as much, it still hurt. N-Nothing I couldn't
handle, of course, but . . .

Wonder what Matthew'd do if he were here. Probably drag me out of here and force me to go home,
if only so he could make me come to work on the weekend. Just to tick me off. And he'd be grinning
at me the whole time . . .

My head throbbed quietly.

Ow, tap.

This was ridiculous. I wasn't capable of taking any more cases like this, not today, anyway. D-damn
Matthew! It was all his fault! Maybe I should just say I wasn't feeling too good and ask for the day off
. . . I mean, that was the truth. I wasn't feeling good at all. My head was about to split open . . . but
while I'd worked under pain of . . . well, pain before, this was pretty bad.

I slung my jacket over my shoulders. It sucked. Seriously. I didn't even bother trying to stand up
straight as I headed to Rath's office, letting my shoulders slump forward in an uncharacteristic
weariness. I also didn't bother knocking.

Big mistake.

I opened his office door sullenly, beginning my explanation wearily. "Commissioner, I'm not feeling too
great, I was wonder--" I paused, and blinked.

Well, I thought as my blush rose considerably, next time I'd most d-definitely knock. It seemed I'd
caught Rath at an, ah, inopportune moment.

He was jerking his head up from its previous position . . . which incidentally happened to be on Wil's
neck. Wil was sandwiched between Rath and wall of plaques, which may or may not have been all
that comfortable, but he didn't seem to mind if you took into account the fact that his arms were
loosely linked around the other man's neck.

Even caught in that position, Rath looked as patient as usual, if you discounted the spastic twitching at
his temple. The secretary, who was blinking blearily in . . . shock recovery, looked a cross between
bewildered, dizzy, and embarrassed.

I slammed the door shut behind me as quickly as I could, peeking through the blinds to make sure no
one had seen that . . . particular display. No one seemed to even be there. "S-Sorry, Rath," I
apologized hurriedly, avoiding eye contact, "Er . . . you too, Wil . . . I don't think anyone else saw,
though, you guys are in the clear . . ."

H-How w-was I supposed to know w-what they were doing? C-Couldn't they put a s-sign on the
door or something?!

"Wil, you told me that the office was empty."

Rath? Speaking in total sentences, without ellipses anywhere in sight? What was wrong with this
picture? I thought about that. Considering the sight I'd walked in on a few moments ago, there was
considerably more things wrong in this office then I could possibly pinpoint.

Wil winced visibly, mumbling. "Er, it was . . . but, but that was awhile ago, right? We've, uh, been in
here for a while, and it's kind of easy to lose track of time when you've got your hands full of--"

I coughed. Loudly. I really, really didn't want to hear Wil finish that sentence. At least he took the hint.
"Oh . . . right, well, that and I figured that Guy'd be getting harassed by that Ostia guy again, since he
came to pick up his royalties about fifteen minutes a--"

"Say what?!" I snapped up, ignoring the pain that shot through my head at that. Matthew? Here? N-
Not that I was HAPPY to hear he was here . . . w-what's with the incredulous looks? . . . Dammit,
fine, OK, I was. Wil tilted his head and, after processing his words, flushed.

"Ooops . . . I wasn't supposed to say that, was I?" He winced lightly. "Sorry, Rath, I really didn't
mean to, and I REALLY promise it won't --" I cut him off before he got too warmed up. Wil'd just
end up rambling at me for the whole evening, and I didn't think my head could cope with that.

"Where is he? Matthew, I mean;" I snapped out hurriedly, edging out towards the door, "where's
Matthew?"

Rath shook his head. " . . . Detective," he began slowly, staring at me. I snapped to attention
instinctively. My boss stared at me in an imperceptive way for a minute, before shaking his head in a
kind of defeat; " . . . be discreet. Take the rest of the day off."

I nodded, my flush beginning to fade. "Thanks, chief," I muttered as I sidled out the door as quickly as
possible.

The office really was pretty much empty, thank god, or I'd have looked really stupid, dashing through
the stairwells like a crazed lunatic . . . or maybe like Karel . . . or maybe like both, there wasn't much
of a difference between the two . . .

I slammed myself into the door, forcing it open. The dusk light was still bright enough to force me to
shield my eyes with my arm while they got used to the light change. The warm golden light cast an odd
glow over the normal grays and blacks of the city, but a hint of familiar color caught my eye . . .

I blurted out his name desperately, as he raised an arm to hail a taxi. "M-Matthew!"

He turned, and his eyes widened slightly at the sight of me. There he was, but . . . something was
wrong. "Hello, Guy."

I slowed to a stop beside him, frowning . . . something wasn't right with Matthew. He looked so . . .
"Hey," I resisted the urge to poke him. "Why are you looking so guilty?"

Matthew tilted his head, and I remembered what Wil had said. He wasn't supposed to tell me that
Matthew was here. Under whose orders? . . . Matthew's? " . . . Are . . . " That possibility . . . it hurt.
"A-Are you av-voiding me?"

The investigator looked at me with a quirk in his eye. "No. Why would I avoid you?"

"Oh . . . " Something was really off. Matthew . . . it hit me. He wasn't grinning. Yes, there was a small
smile on his face, but there was no trace of the grin that I knew Matthew best for. No trace at all.

It was as though I was a complete stranger to him all the sudden . . . I . . . w-what . . . Why was
Matthew being so . . . distant . . .?

"I was just leaving," his voice cut into my thoughts, and he gave me a long look. A hint of the normal
Mathew showed through at that . . . It was a longer look then necessary, as though he felt the need to
memorize my features for some reason. "It was . . . " his eyes flicked in some strange emotion, " . . .
nice seeing you again, Guy."

"Right . . ." I answered softly, slightly perturbed. Why wasn't Matthew grinning? Was something
wrong? Would he want to talk about it? Why would I want to talk to MATTHEW? WHY was he
WALKING AWAY?

"W-WAIT!" I yelped, jogging up next to him and halting his brisk walk. My brain officially shut down
at that point. My head even stopped hurting, I swear it. I still can't believe I'm responsible for my
following actions.

"Guy?" Matthew had no idea what was going through my head, and I wasn't really paying attention to
what he was saying, actually. "Do you need to -- "

"O-One second!" I breathed, cutting him off before he interrupted my frantic train of thought, "I-I'm
trying to figure out . . . " I glanced around the street . . . there; a small entryway, leading to an alley.
Perfect.

I latched my hand around his wrist and tugged at it in a gesture to follow. While Matthew may have
had enough physical strength to drag me around, I didn't have enough to do the same for Matthew.
Luckily, Matthew followed with only an amused, slightly startled query.

"Um, Guy?"

The narrow space wasn't as dark as I expected it to be. The setting sun was visible over the other end
of the alleyway, and cast a warm glow over Matthew's face, highlighting his hair and skin with reds
and golds.

I noticed that so acutely, my mouth just began to run on it's own. "Matthew, I . . . I don't act like it . .
. m-most of the time, but I . . . " W-What was I trying to say? " . . . I really do . . . like you." Whew.
I thought I might say something a bit more . . . parallel to the truth, using more descriptive adjectives
and terms not fit for normal speech. "O-Ok?"

Matthew gave me an odd look, one that even I couldn't interpret. That startled me, since I was pretty
good at reading Matthew. But then . . . he was acting strange . . . why . . .? " . . . Guy, the way you
act, you don't like me at all."

"But I do!" My blurted words were automatic, and Matthew frowned in thought. Why, w-why didn't I
think that was a good sign?! "I just . . . i-it's j-just that . . . " I heard my voice beginning to babble,
with an even worse stutter the normal. It took effort to shut my mouth.

Matthew blinked at me, and I winced, looking at the floor, trying not to meet his eyes. "C-Could you
just . . . bend down a little?" I whispered, a little self-consciously.

There was the slightest whisper of cloth as he did so, and my flush deepened considerably as he
stopped at what just HAPPENED TO BE the perfect height. Gah . . . the p-pervert probably k-knew
what I was going to d-do. . .

"Guy, why am I doing this?" Or maybe he didn't, because even Matthew can't fake that sort of
cluelessness in his voice. And yes, he can fake many, many things, so I know.

I found myself mumbling out the answer without meaning to. Damn my recklessly honest mouth.
"Because you're too tall otherwise for me to . . ."

My strangled voice drifted off, and my eyes jerked up to meet his. Matthew's head tilted, and a
certain shock of realization passed briefly over his features. He swallowed, and then whispered softly,
"I'm too tall . . . to what?"

. . . There was no way in hell I'd answer that. Better to show then tell . . .

Matthew had taught me that . . .

Grabbing his shoulders to keep him still, I did hesitate . . . but shutting my eyes determinedly, I leaned
forward . . .

. . . And put my mouth directly over his.

His lips weren't completely smooth: they were slightly chapped from the wind and sun. It gave them
an odd texture, and if I tilted my head . . . just . . . so . . . they moved against my own in a way that
sent chills up my spine, and caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up and shiver.

I don't really think it was much of a kiss, to be truthful . . . I'm not an expert at that sort of thing, sorry.
But . . . but it was warm, and it tasted of mint and spice, and it was Matthew that I was kissing, so . .
. when I finally pulled back, I really didn't want to.

I stumbled back a step when I released him, almost giving him a small shove away.

He looked at me in a way that I couldn't even begin to describe. It was a mix of so many emotions
that, for the second time in the past few minutes, I couldn't read Matthew's face. That . . . hurt, for
some reason. It shouldn't have hurt me, but it did.

I looked up at him nervously, head tilted slightly towards the ground, feeling awkward for not having
anything to do with my hands. I found that I licked my lips slowly enough, I could still taste Matthew
on my lips . . . I almost missed it when Matthew's eyes followed my tongue is it traveled around my
mouth.

Was that hope I read in his eyes . . .?

And it was then . . .

. . . that Matthew grinned.

His crafty, sly, fiendish, damn-I'm-tasty-and-I-know-it grin. The cocky eyebrows, the pearly teeth . .
. My heart leapt within my chest, probably displacing several other key organs in the process, as it
was made official -- the Matthew I knew and loved best was back.

I felt my lips curling up into a tiny smile of their own --

-- and it was about then that my brain kicked into gear, bringing to my attention a very, very important
fact: namely, that I had just done a very, very stupid thing. Oh, god . . I-I . . . I HADN'T . . . I hadn't
j-just . . . I'd . . .

I'd kissed him. I'd kissed Matthew, and now, I was dead.

Slipping into panic mode, I swiveled on my heel, both to hide my blush and to prepare to march
myself right out that alley and off the nearest cliff. My braid swung around with me from the
momentum of my turn, and flopped over my shoulder to rest beside my collarbone.

I took one step forward, and didn't get very far beyond that. Before I could lift my foot again, I was
lurched back slightly as a set of arms wrapped around me from behind. The sudden stiffness in my
shoulders was my body instinctively remembering every martial arts move that began with that
movement.

I-It wasn't m-my fault I swear! M-Matthew was just B-BEGGING for that k-kiss! He was too
goddamn sexy for his own good, I swear it! It was all H-HIS fault! And Matthew was going to
SLAUGHTER me for it, I just knew it . . .

. . . So why didn't he stop playing with my hair and get on with the, you know, slaughtering?
Dismemberment, decapitation, etc., etc.?

No, seriously. W-Why was he playing with my braid? He casually fingered the plait, his breath on my
ear. His arms were around me, pinning my arms to my sides, his front to my back, fiddling with the tie
to my hair.

That wasn't, the last time I checked, in any combat trick I knew. I let my shoulders relax, slightly. I
even managed not to flinch when he tugged my hair loose and it began to fall out of its plait. I did sort
of wince, however, at the thought of my hair down at a time like this . . ..

My inner protests were cut short when he ran his hand through my hair. Oh god . . . the light scrape of
his nails running over my scalp was enough to force me to bite back a soft moan . . . mmm . . . why
didn't I let him play with my hair before . . .

"Guy," Matthew's voice purred, the low and strangely smooth timbre shooting straight through my
ears to the rest of me, "What were you just doing?"

The blatant truth spilled out, since my brain was occupied with too many . . . other . . .things, to be
thinking properly. " . . . Kissing you." My voice was low as well, and my stutter was . . . gone. That
didn't really register at the moment, though.

"Why?"

Did I have to answer that? I leaned my head into his hand, and he replied by increasing pressure on
those lightly scraping, maddening touches . . .. This time I did let out a low sound, barely realizing it.

"Is it . . ." I took in a breath as his clever fingers did something to my ear, " . . . too late to take it
back?" D-Dammit . . . that didn't come out the way I intended . . .

"Guy . . . " Matthew's voice sounded almost pained, and to my severe disappointment, he moved his
hands to turn me around. I leaned in towards him, even as his gentle grip forced me to stare up at him
with glazed eyes.

"Look at me," he commanded softly, and for once, I didn't have the slightest inclination to disobey.
My gaze was glued to his mysteriously darkened amber eyes, his suddenly pout-y lips, the mild flush
across his cheeks . . .. Oh, god . . .

He leaned in, and the wind from his whisper ghosted across my heated skin. His husky voice got ever
closer . . . "It's far, far too late . . . " . . . and his lips met mine.

It was different then the kiss I gave him. His hand, running through my hair easily at first, held me in
place, so I couldn't pull back if I wanted to. I hesitantly put my arms around his neck, instinctively
pulling him closer. His lips began to move against mine, and I mimicked his movements thoughtlessly.

His other hand played down my back, running through my hair to the very ends, before slipping
around my waist and up my arm. His tongue darted out to flick the rim of my mouth, and I opened it
with a tiny gasp. It faintly registered that I was moaning as he tasted the sides of my tongue, the rim of
my inner cheeks, the roof of my mouth before tangling with my tongue again. I responded, pressing
against him as best I could.

Unable to figure what I was supposed to do with my hands, I frantically moved them around as much
as possible -- over his chest, his neck, his back, anything I could reach. Matthew gave a soft groan
when I flicked my hands up the front of his shirt, so I did it again, digging in slightly with my nails.

His lips separated from my mouth and began working their way down my jaw line. I tilted my head
back, giving him easier access . . . oh god, what he was doing right . . . there . . . my heart raced, and
he could probably feel it, considering he was almost biting down on my pulse.

I couldn't do much but grab fistfuls of the back of his coat and cling for all I was worth. I bit back a
strangled yell, but it came out anyway, as a hoarse whisper, "M-Matthew . . ."

The reply was wordless, as he attacked the juncture between neck and shoulder with teeth and
tongue and . . . "We should . . . " he raised his mouth from my neck long enough to growl out half a
sentence, but had to replace it for a few moments before he went on, "We should continue this in my
apartment . . . "

My body liberally thrummed at what he was insinuating, and I arched my back into him, trying to find
words for a reply. I don't think I needed to, with my . . . positive reaction, but still . . .. I felt a
deliciously wanton shudder slide down my back as I gasped out in return, " . . . m-mine's closer . . . "

And . . . well, what happened after that . . . beyond the dash for a taxi, no doubt traumatizing the
cabby, and the mindless wrestling match with my keys . . .

Isn't all that much of a mystery.

You can figure it out.

Case . . . closed.

-o-

-o-

-o-

ore wa owari

-o-

-o-

-o-