AN: All right, here's the next part. Let me know what you guys think of Brief ^_^ xDD

2. Matured

The Brief in front of her was not the boy Stocking could have ever remembered. Not ever. For one thing, she had to look up to meet his eyes—eyes she had never seen before. Like green stones, glinting in the electric air, firm and penetrating. He was taller than her, his limbs not pumped with muscle, but certainly heavy enough to hold her down. He could tie her up in those legs of his. The brim of his hat bobbed as he flinched downward, sneezing again, containing the seizure in the back of his throat so he wouldn't get anything on her. With a tentative, slow hand, Stocking reached up and gently took the hat off.

The shadow across his face peeled back, revealing his alabaster skin—the little freckles across his cheeks and nose. His bright orange hair was shorter now, but still as fluffy and with its tendency to curl at the ends, a little bit. It hung around his forehead. He shivered, clutching his gifts, sniffling. His eyes softened, the hardness melting away.

"Yeah," he said, voice deep and soft. "It's me."

Stocking stepped back from him, flinching. Had he always been this grown-up? Had he always been this-… cute? She didn't want to think about it. Her sharpened nails dug into his chest a little as she snatched him by the collar, yanking him inside, and then slamming the door. She shuddered a little herself from the cold air that had gotten inside, and then tossed Breif's hat onto the couch.

"Geez," she muttered, stooping down to scoop up the mess of cake on the ground. "You useless humans are so weak. A little chilly air, and you're already sick."

"I'm n-n-not s-sick," he said, breathless. The rush of warm air worked through his body from the outside in, making him shake. He thrust the box of chocolates out towards Stocking, having to bend his knees a little to get closer to her, since she was on the floor. "H-H-Here.."

Stocking blinked over, and immediately brightened at the sight of the familiar box. She knew what a box of sweet goodness looked like. She snatched it, forgetting all about the cake, mewling to herself as she held it to her chest. Then her blue eyes fluttered towards him, almost suspicious.

"What's this for?"

Brief shrugged off-handedly, torn between looking cold, relieved and a little embarrassed. His eyes, so green and so bright—such a new sight for Stocking—fogged over like warmed glass. He brought his arm up to catch yet another sneeze, which he allowed to escape with full force. The strength of it bent him at the waist, the sound resembling something of a snarl. It made Stocking jump, clutching her chocolate. Sighing when finished, he straightened back to his normal height, gesturing as he scrubbed at his nose with the cuff of a sleeve.

"It w-would be rude to g-give gifts to Panty," he said, sniffling once, "and n-not get you anything. I th-thought you liked ch-ch-…" He paused, taking a shaky breath. "Chocolate."

Stocking was callous, practical, and often disinterested in human affairs. But she was not as much of a heartless bitch as her sister was. She fisted a handful of Brief's shirt front, and yanked him into the kitchen; she shoved him into a kitchen chair. As expected, even if he was older now, he made one of his trademark "uwaaa's!"

"S-S-Stocking-!" He fiddled with the flowers and the bag of goodies, making sure he didn't crush either when sitting down. His nose was running from the change in temperature, and feeling of discharge kept making his nose itch. Sniffling again, cutting his eyes, he turned to shove the gifts onto the table before another sneeze could sneak up on him.

Stocking, still in her housecoat and slippers, was busying herself with some hot marshmallow-chocolate brownie cocoa. It was the sweetest brand she could find, and she liked the taste of it on her tongue. It was rather smooth on the throat as well. It would warm the human up, hopefully.

She would peek at him through the curtains of her dark hair over her shoulder, sizing him up. When did he get so mature? They had seen him regularly over the past few years, but perhaps they hadn't been looking for it. The change had been gradual, and the bouts of "deep voice" were very, very recent. Perhaps it was the hair that prompted her to notice such a dramatic change.

The dark-haired angel watched as he slowly brought his hands to his face, cupping them over his nose and mouth. The sneeze attacked promptly, albeit rather violently, and he stayed in a hunched position for a moment afterward. Even as he sat up, he kept his hands to his face, cheeks blinking pink. His green eyes darted around the room—searching. With a slight smirk, Stocking realized what he was looking for.

"Runny nose?" she asked, stirring the cocoa as she mixed in the powder. His resultant squeak made her grin a bit wider. She nodded towards the drawer to her left. "Napkins in there. I hide them from Panty. Otherwise, she'd waste them all."

Brief stood, body a little stiff. Embarrassed, awkward. He seemed like he wanted to hide, but couldn't anymore. His orange curtain of bangs was gone—no more hiding behind them now. Keeping one hand cupped over his face, he pulled open the drawer with the other, plucking a few napkins off the stack. He turned his back on her to be polite—probably would have left the room if he didn't think it was rude—and started blowing his nose. While he was preoccupied, Stocking set down her spoon with a clink and moved to stand behind him. She reached around and pasted a hand on his forehead. The teen's breath caught, making him snort into the tissue, and Stocking giggled once under her breath. He wasn't her type, this boy. But he was charming, in a way. She could see that now.

"Why didn't you wear a coat?" She kept her fingers on his brow. He felt warm, but maybe that was because his body was heating him up from the cold weather. Or maybe he was embarrassed. It was hard to tell if it was a true fever.

Brief didn't move either. He swallowed once, his growing Adam's Apple lowering and rising again. His hands shook just a little, viced around his used tissues, which he still held to his nose. Her touch kept him frozen.

He wished, though, it was Panty's hand upon his brow…asking him if he was all right…smiling at him. Stocking was a woman, and he was a puberty-stricken boy, so the contact was bound to paralyze him. But if it had been Panty? It would have been Hell's Gate all over again. He knew he was a late bloomer in the development area. He had always been late to everything—puberty and manhood was no different. He had lost his virginity before his voice changed, however. He had been quite early for that.

"I…" Brief paused, keeping his voice steady. It cracked anyway, and dropped. "I wanted to look good today."

Stocking moved her fingers to his right cheek. His skin was so soft, so flawless, and still radiating dim heat. Like warmed silk. "For Panty?"

It took a second for him to answer, but he did. "Yeah."

"Ah~" she said, and removed her hand from him entirely. Turning to the counter, she picked up the cocoa and walked around to face him. His green eyes were trained on the ground, tissues pasted to his face. She held the cup up in front of his eyes. "Would you like my cocoa? It's chocolate."

He reached for it with a nod and a sheepish "thank you," as he crumpled the tissue and stuffed it in his back pocket. They sat down together at the table, both silent. Stocking made no effort to mask her observation of him; Brief tried to conceal his ever-growing bashfulness. No one ever stared at him this much.

"Why did you cut your hair?" Stocking asked, swirling her cocoa around in her pink-polka-dot mug. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

Brief kept his legs pinched together, feet flat on the ground, hands laced around his coffee mug. It was purple, with a sheep on it. His face was incredibly expressive—something his bangs used to cover. He knew he wore his heart on his sleeve. Brief was a terrible liar. He cleared his throat, voice unstable in pitch.

"I-… I n-needed a change," he said.

"For Panty?"

"….Y-Yeah…"

"Ah~ I see."

Silence. Slight discomfort. Awkwardness.

"And the flowers?"

"F-…For P-Panty."

"The spicy shit?"

He sunk slowly in his chair, shoulders hunched. "P-Panty…"

Stocking took a sip from her mug, and her eyes were distant as she grew thoughtful. After gently placing the mug down, pinky extended, her eyebrows drew together. "Brief?"

He perked up, eyes darting to her. He shook his shallow bangs, still unaccustomed to their lack of weight. "Y-Yes?"

"Why did you come here?" Stocking laced her hands together. "What do you want with my bitchy, sloppy, slutty big sister?"

Sitting up in his chair, back straight, his voice rose in pitch but not in volume. "S-She's not any of those things!" Stocking squared him with a certain look, and he wilted a little. "W-Well," he amended. "Not to me."

"Oh?"

"Yeah!" he said, rubbing his upper-arms now, warming himself up in the heated sanctuary of the church. "I care about Panty. I'd marry her, if she would have me."

He didn't stutter that time. Stocking glared regardless. Panty, for one thing, had a job to do. A human like him would just get in her way. And if he interfered with Panty, he would interfere with Stocking, and that was unacceptable. Not to mention his penis was the key to Hell's Gate. That, and he was practically useless otherwise. This made him a walking, talking hostage—open to any adversary. On a smaller note, the whole "never-fall-in-love-when-you-save-the-world" thing was true; on the incredibly slim chance that Panty did actually fall for him (which was NOT about to happen), he would do nothing but cause them trouble. Panty would be more vulnerable, and therefore less effective. It was a lose-lose situation all around.

"She will never have you, Geek Boy," Stocking said, picking up her mug again, eyes closing as she sipped from it. "She's Panty."

Brief, who never seemed to get angry or ruffled by any of the Angel Sisters' torture against him, bristled a little. He was tired of people telling him that. He was tired of people making him believe he would never get anything he wanted. Most of all, he was tired of Panty being so immature. Couldn't she just grow up, for one fucking minute, and open her eyes? He loved her.

"People change," he said, clearing his throat. Holding himself in check. A young man being groomed for a CEO position did not lose his cool this early in the conversation.

"People change, yes," Stocking said, nodding as she swallowed. "Angels? Not so often."

"Angels are people."

"No, they're not."

"Yes, they-"

"I'm an angel. I would know."

"You don't know anything."

The tone was a little annoyed. Stocking's head snapped up as she stared at him, his expression. Brief had his head down, slouching in his seat, avoiding her eyes. While staring directly, it was very easy to see what he was feeling. The lack of bangs was a weakness for him. Stocking smirked. How fitting that Panty be the cause of it.

Like Sampson and Delilah. Maybe too similar.

"Oh, don't I?"

"My relationship with Panty is my business," he said, eyes floating from the salt shaker to his sheep-mug. He hurried into his next statement, like he had almost forgotten about it. "Th-That's all I m-mean…"

"Really?" Stocking leaned closer to him over the table. He shrunk back. "It that really all you mean?" She would goad him into something, maybe. This older Brief was a lot less amusing than the other one. As Brief became severely interested in the patterns of floor tile, Panty strutted in, still in her underwear.

AN: I ended it kind of abruptly. I have part of the next chapter already written, and this would have been too long if I hadn't split it up. Read and review, please :D