A/N: Bwaaaah~! Update~! All the new followers have encouraged me to work! xDD. Special thanks to those of you who have been sticking around!

5. Just a Visit

Brief never acted like he was rich, so walking up to such an impressive front door felt strange to Stocking. She kept scuffing her shoes against the walk, bundled up in her fuzziest purple coat, hood up, and hands mittened. The angel could feel the warmth of the soup permeate the fabric of her gloves, and it felt pleasant with the cold air pressing around her. It took a few minutes for her to work up the courage to knock, and she took several steps back from the door afterwards. She remembered how they had left Brief outside on the porch for so long; her heart, even though she tried to fight it, beat softly in shame.

The heavy wooden door gave way to a lovely parlor, and the butler showed her in. It was a Western home, modern and shiny—quite different from the church. There was elegance here, a maturity that she didn't see in her own home. Granted, she decorated things with teacups, doilies, and pink plushies… The soup was taken from her, despite her protests, and to her utter surprise she was searched. At first she struggled, which prompted the two burly house-guards to hold tighter. The feeling of bondage gave her the warm-tinglies, and she relaxed in their grips. Apparently the young Rock heir was being heavily watched and protected after the kidnapping-Hell's Gate incident. The Master of the House didn't want his only son getting swiped again.

After all the proceedings, Stocking was allowed to go upstairs with her soup (which had been tested for poison or drugs) and given direction to Brief's room. The carpet was red and clean, the walls covered with sprawling art, walls pearly and dust-free. Everything about the place was immaculate. But then again, if you have a fleet of maids, why wouldn't your house be perfect?

No one accompanied her, or told her what to do once she had found the right door. A left turn at the stairs, fifth door on the right, near the end of the hall. She was sure it was the right one, and had even double checked, but didn't know how to proceed. It occurred to her that Brief visited them all the time; this was the first time she had thought to return the favor, and it made her feel awkward. In fact, she started losing her nerve, and even turned to leave, when she heard a muffled sound from behind the door in front of her. Pressing her ear to the wood, she listened again. Yes, just as she thought. Someone was sneezing in there. And she had a good idea of who it was.

Brief heard the knock, and called out in a crackling voice, "Come in." His vocal cords, already in flux from puberty, were rocked by his cold. It was frankly embarrassing how silly he sounded. Like a yodeler, or something. The young Rock heir was even more mortified when Stocking walked in. Here he was, surrounded by used tissues, old comic books, Ghostbusters DVDs-… Just a mess. Even his pajamas, which were actually his old jumpsuit, were embarrassing.

"S-S-S-S-Stocking-!" He yanked his thick blankets up to his nose, so only his green eyes could be seen. His orange, curly hair, even mussed, was still too short to hide him now. Stocking had never seen him so casual, and so-…vulnerable. Well, maybe that wasn't the word. He was always vulnerable. But never in such a plain, almost natural way.

"Hello," she greeted him. He was acting more like himself, which made her act more like herself. In the bathroom, he had been cold and distant. But here, he was just as endearing and bumbling as he always had been. It comforted her. "How is your cold?"

Brief gave her a crooked smile as he tried to kick humiliating items off of his bed without her noticing. He ignored the little thuds and smacks of paper and plastic hitting the hardwood. All the house was hardwood, since that was easier to care for than carpet, and it lasted much longer.

"Oh, f-fine," he stuttered, voice cracking. He cleared his throat, sighing only for a moment. "Just fine."

Stocking nodded to him, and surveyed his room. He had some of the things a boy his age might have: a large TV, a few consoles for video games, a lap top, a desk, a bookshelf. But he also had things that only Brief would have: many EMF meters, inventions of his own make, some tools, old motherboards he had been working on and abandoned. Such things like that. There was a bulletin board on his wall covered in pictures of Panty, but by the look of it, he was in the process of removing them. Many of them littered the floor. Hm. The boy in question stirred her from her thoughts.

"What are-?.. D-Did you need something?"

The congestion in his tone was fairly obvious, and she could only smirk. It just made him sound younger, which reminded her of all the things they had done together. When they had first met. She didn't know why she was so nostalgic today, and shook her head to rid herself of the memories.

"I brought you some soup." She crossed the room to him, and he received the soup from her with sturdy hands. They both stared down at the Tupperware, and after a few ticking seconds of silence, Brief spoke.

"Thanks," he said, clearing his throat again. There wasn't much else to say, he thought. Just that, and she could be on her way. It wasn't that he didn't like Stocking, or didn't want to see her in particular. She just reminded him too much of her sister, and he wasn't exactly feeling up to anything—even talking—at the moment.

"Well," Brief prompted, sitting the soup aside. He wasn't hungry either. "You better be getting back to—"

"Eat some," she commanded. Brief blinked.

"What?"

"… Eat some." She sounded slightly unsure, ducking an eye behind her long hair. "The steam will clear your sinuses, and the broth will make your throat feel better."

Being polite felt suddenly very, very hard. But Brief didn't sound anything but calm and insistent when he replied to her. "Yeah, I know. I'm just not hungry right n—"

"Here, let me help." Once again, she interrupted him, but this time she moved closer and sat right down on the side of his bed. The near-red-head smiled out of a nervous reflex, pressing his back against the headboard of his bed.

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

Her voice sounded so soft. He hadn't heard it so soft before. He hadn't seen her so close before. Stocking's hair was so long, he noticed, and her gothic-lolita style suited her well. Brief wondered, though, if blue and pink was anything close to her natural hair color. How often did she dye it? Her blue eyes, bright like the water of the Caribbean islands, never wavered from his own. Already, her delicate fingers, like lily petals, were working up under the lid of her container. Prying it open. Brief felt the wash of heat as the top popped off. He swallowed, and his throat ached.

"Say, ahhh~" she told him, holding up a spoonful she had blown on. Brief couldn't tell if the twisting in his gut was from his cold, or from this scenario. The spoon came for him, gently floating to his lips, so he had no choice but to open his mouth and let her stick it in. After he bit back down, they just stared at one another, as if unsure of what to do. The young Rock was in a bad situation because: 1) he could only breathe properly through his nose, so the longer he closed his mouth, the more suffocated he felt, and 2) the soup tasted like warm sink water, sugared powder, and old socks.

His eyes watered, and he realized that Stocking wasn't going to take the spoon out until he swallowed. It was a struggle, since his dulled sense of taste didn't agree with the meal and his throat burned from the contact, but he managed. He breathed a little heavy when she finally took the spoon out. Immediately, he felt the incredible need to sneeze, so strong and fierce he could not quell it or hold it back for Stocking's benefit. Brief didn't enjoy being ill and weak in front of others, since all it did was draw attention that made him uncomfortable. He clenched his teeth, jolting with his wet sneeze, but his body was no appeased by only one. Stocking pulled a tissue from his depleting box and pressed it into his hand, waiting for him to finish before she served him again. The steam was irritating his sensitive, cold-afflicted nose, making him need to sneeze everything out.

Despite Brief's embarrassment, Stocking did not mind; it was a human thing to do, and therefore rather endearing. She had always seen humans as "in the way" or a "distraction," but actually they weren't so bad. At least not Brief. He was more unique, more complicated, now that she looked at him closely.

After blowing his nose as softly as he could while Stocking politely looked the other way, he felt a little better. His head was less heavy. Though he barely got a moment to catch his breath before Stocking had another spoonful hovering by his lips. It had been a battle to swallow the first spoonful. He didn't know if he could stomach another.

"I—"

Once his mouth was open, Stocking pushed the spoon in, and Brief's surprised sound made her grin. After swallowing, he coughed a little, eyes looking misty. Again, she pasted a hand to his head to check for a bad fever, since glazed eyes were sometimes a symptom. Brief sighed, getting more exasperated than he was humiliated. A wrist came up to ward away her hand from his skin.

"Thank you," he told her, voice soft and shy. "But I would really just like to sleep." Rubbing an eye, not lying about feeling tired, he paused when she spoke up. The spoon clattered against the bowl's edge as she put it back into the soup.

"Brief," she said. They met eyes. "What did you see in Panty?"