I've had re-sits, work and I'm starting work again on my Zidane Tribal cosplay for the London Expo in may, so this was a little while coming, although not so long writing.

Enjoy yo'selves.

Natsume left the bathroom, walking into the main room with one of Mikan's towels over his head, rubbing his hair dry as he wandered blindly across the floor. Normally a shower or bath was something he'd point blank refuse to share with anyone – and he had in the past – but he'd practically assumed Mikan would share with him; it was her bath after all.

He was hideously aware that he was getting very comfortable with a level of intimacy he'd never had before, with anyone. Not with his parents, and obviously not with any of his old flings. He couldn't place why it was so easy to be with her, but it was. He hadn't just 'not minded' taking a bath with her, it had been his idea, and he'd really wanted to.

He found his way to a chair and sat down, pulling the towel end to end to dry his hair; he heard her, having got out to dry off before him, moving somewhere else in the room, and after a while her hands covered his, taking control.

"You're obsessed with my hair," he sniggered as she roughly towelled it dry for him; eyes downward so the back of his head was angled in her direction.

"Nu-uhh," she denied, rubbing her fingers in circles through the thick material. It was almost as nice as washing his hair had been, which was embarrassingly so; he'd no idea something simple like that could be so... romantic. And he had no idea that he'd ever find something 'romantic' that rewarding.

"You are," he insisted. "You're always touching it and stuff," he teased. "It's a little creepy."

"It's not creepy!" she protested, yanking his head down further and handling him even rougher.

"It is," he retorted, and felt her bump her fist down on the back of her head. He found her body with his hands from under the towel and pulled her towards him.

"Hey!" she squeaked. "I can't dry it like this!"

"Don't care," he muffled under the cloth, squeezing her tightly; his head just below her breasts – he was seated but she was standing. "I thought you liked hugs," he said grumpily.

"I do," she sighed, her hands on the back of his head, fingers still slowly flexing up and down. "I was just trying to do something else."

"That's not my problem," he said shortly, and the material tightened around his neck.

"I should strangle you," she playfully taunted, twisting the ends of the towel until it looked like some kind of full-face hood, or flannel gimp mask.

"You wouldn't have the balls," he baited, voice muffled through the towel over his face. "Take it off." She was half tempted to leave the thing on, but in the end relented and whipped it away from him.

"Hey, who says I was talking about the towel?" he smirked, and she stared down expectantly; she was only wearing a tank-top and cut-off tracksuit bottoms after getting out of the bath.

"Are you ever not horny?" she asked sarcastically, and he reached up, cupping one of her breasts, and flicked the edge of his thumb over her nipple – she wasn't wearing a bra, and he felt a ripple of reaction through her. "Fine," she huffed, pushing the towel down around his shoulders and backing away with a weary sigh. "I'm sorry I asked."

"You're not," he stated bluntly, following her over to a... pile of beanbags. "Beanbags?" he said quizzically.

"Mom took some of the furniture with her to Hokkaido," she explained as she jumped onto the heap and settled herself, only to be immediately unsettled when he followed her, and insisted she sit with or on him. "Beanbags are cheap," she added, "and more comfortable than you." She fidgeted and tried to worm away, but it only ended up in a contest of strength, and he inevitably won those.

Not by that much though. Tsubasa could carry her around like she was a sack of feathers, which was, if she had to admit it, pretty hot. It had already been proven that Natsume couldn't hold up to that kind of act for very long, if at all. But then again, if she thought about who she was more attracted to, it was still him every time.

He was skinny, smarter than she could ever hope to be, arrogant and although admittedly a pretty good lay, it was in technique rather than brute strength; not particularly attractive in any one way, but -- she didn't know why -- he just got her going.

"Whoa," he gasped as she stuck her hands all the way up the front of his top, reaching all the way up to his chin, and kissed him hard. "Where did that come from?" He didn't sound unappreciative, naturally, but he did seem a little stunned. Normally he was the drive in these sorts of situations.

"I was just..." she mumbled, "thinking about why I like you."

"Oh? Why's that?" he said arrogantly, wincing as she stuck her tongue out and licked the end of his nose.

"I don't know," she admitted, and he rolled his eyes.

"Oh. That's good to know," he replied sarcastically, trying to move but only sinking further into the beanbag. "What the hell is up with this thing!" he snapped, and she laughed. "There's something digging into my back," he berated, arching it awkwardly and further disrupting her 'next'. Mikan sighed and looped her arm around behind him, feeling around for what turned out to be the remote.

"You get used to them," she remarked, turning on the TV out of habit and peddling herself around until she was comfortable, which happened to be stretched out across most of the space with her feet in Natsume's lap.

They slowly broke off from conversation as their attention drifted towards the TV, but after a while Mikan wiggled her feet on top of his legs.

"Give me a foot rub?" she suggested persuasively, and he shot a 'as if' look at first, but then adopted a more thoughtful attitude.

"Hm," he hummed. "I could, I suppose..." as he said this, he drew a hand up the sole of one of her feet – he knew they were clean – and pushed down his thumb right in the middle of the arch. She wiggled her toes appreciatively again.

"Please?" she tried, and he rubbed his hand back down her foot pensively.

"Hm, I guess so... if..." he added suddenly, "you give me something in return."

"Eh? What?" she said. "That's so unromantic," she added disdainfully.

"Oh well," he chuckled. "I'll tell you what, I'll massage your feet if..."

"If..." she prompted.

"If you give me a blow job," he finished with satisfaction, and Mikan's face fell horribly.

"What?! We just had sex!" she shot.

"I didn't say now did I?" he retorted. "I just meant in general. I want one in credit."

"Who asks for a blow job 'in general'!" she wailed. "Who asks for blow job credit?! That is not even equal to a foot rub, and I don't even want it that much, I... I was just saying." Then his hand was no longer on her foot, but underneath her leg, tucking round just to grip at the more sensitive skin of her inside thigh.

"Com'on," he cajoled; not talking about the foot massage. "I did you, didn't I?"

"I didn't ask you to!"

"You did like it though," he retorted lecherously. "You know you did. I know you did... the neighbours probably know you did." Mikan's face gained a little colour; she hadn't been screaming or anything... well, not that loud.

She wasn't used to it, she argued to herself; Tsubasa barely ever did it, and Narumi... well, she'd rather not go there.

Natsume, on the other hand, had seemed to like it almost as much as she did. Maybe he was just tripping on the power it gave him. That sounded like him.

"Shut... shut up," she mumbled, and then with a great deal of heaving and manoeuvring he managed to climb across to her, leaning over her imposingly with a knee between her legs; a reminder of his influence over her.

"Don't be embarrassed," he insisted with a smirk. "I know I'm good." She squealed and attempted to get out from underneath him, but it only ended in his lips on her neck and his hands under her vest.

"You are so self-assured," she criticised.

"I know," he said contently, fingers working patterns on her bath-warmed skin. "You still shouldn't be embarrassed; everyone likes sex."

"Mmmn," she whined as she half-did half-didn't want him to stop. "You just like it a lot more than most."

"True," he answered simply. "Speaking of which, how about that blow job?"

"I..." Mikan didn't want to say no. It wasn't like she hated it, and it wasn't like she'd never done it before, but it wasn't really her favourite sexual act. By quite a long way.

"Don't be like that," he wheedled.

"I'm just... not wild about the whole thing..." she murmured.

"You seemed pretty wild about the thing earlier," he taunted, and she pinched him hard enough to convey that that was not what she meant.

"It's just... a pain," she complained, "and what do I even get back from it?... Don't say 'cum' either," she snapped, "because I know that's what you're thinking."

"Is that so?" he retorted. "I doubt you'd like the inside of my head if you really got in there."

"Eh?"

"Nothing," he brushed the whole thing off as suddenly as he brought it up. "Nothing. So," he started up again afresh. "You'll have to do it sooner or later; you'll like it if you do it for me," he insisted, and she raised her eyebrows.

"Why's that?"

"Because it's me," was his one and only argument, and Mikan heaved a sigh.

"We'll see," she groaned, and picked up an arm to run through his hair playfully.

"I told you so," he jeered.

"What?"

"My hair; you love it."

"I do not!" she cried. "It's awful! It's always in a complete mess so no wonder people think you don't know what a hairbrush is."

"That's why you washed it for me?"

"Of course!" she snapped irately. He smirked in a way that rather reflected himself; almost nice but with a hint of a dickhead in there.

He grabbed her hand by the wrist and then rubbed his head against it like a cat, making Mikan laugh. Proving his point or not, it was still amusing.

"We should be in school," she reminded him after glancing at the clock and realizing it was only coming up to lunch time.

"Screw it," he muttered. "I skip all the time."

"You do?" she said in surprise.

"Sure," he said with contempt. "I know most of it anyway, if they (my parents) aren't around to make me and I don't feel like it I'll skip." Mikan was quiet for a few seconds, and then punched him in the chest.

"That is really bad!" she cried. "You should go to school! You need to finish your education!"

"I'm going to pass all the exams anyway," he muttered. "A few days off a week doesn't affect my grades." Mikan's face soured.

"Hmph, it affects mine," she murmured. "I don't even skip anyway."

"Even though you don't have anyone to make you?"

"I make me," she replied. "I didn't stay here on my own to spend it here."

"Oh," he uttered, remembering how she'd said she hated the empty house. However, one particular incident came forwards in his mind. "Oi!" he snapped. "That's not true! What about that time when you didn't come in?"

"Huh? When? I don't skip school," she insisted again.

"It was after... we'd been out," he murmured, trying to remember the incident, and snapping his fingers when it came to him. "After we got drunk, on our," he paused as he placed it, "second date."

"Wait... when?" she said faintly, burrowing back in time to the date. "Oh... oh yeah!" she rushed. "I remember. That... well, yes, I didn't go into school, but it wasn't my fault." He shot her a ruinous stare. "It wasn't! I didn't even wake up until two in the afternoon; by the time I'd gotten ready and taken the train there wouldn't have been any point."

It was Natsume's turn to raise his eyebrows at her.

"Look! I don't skip school just because I don't feel like it, so it counts," she argued.

"Fine, okay," he relented, rolling over to lie on his back. "I'm not going in today, though."

She sighed. "I know, I guessed." He could hear the squeak of her moving, and then she said, "I don't feel like spending time after school with that guy either." He tried to re-shuffle to put his arms around her – sharing hatred and an understanding of what was so awful about him, something he didn't have with other people – but he elbowed the remote control by accident and turned up the volume on the TV too loud.

"Ah! Turn that shit down!" she cursed, and then as he struggled to carry out her orders she realized she was very hungry. Arguments, sex and beanbag wrestling take it out of a person.

"What do you want for lunch?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"Lunch, lunch, what you do want to eat?" she repeated as if he was stupid, and it finally hit him.

"Alright," he snapped. "You don't have to say it like that." With a loud groan she got up from the beanbag heap, and walked barefoot over to her kitchen.

"There's not much food in here," she called out to him as she peered into the fridge.

"Get a takeaway then!" he shouted back.

"No!" she insisted. "It's too expensive! I'll make... stew or something. There's enough crap in here to boil."

"Sounds delicious!" he shouted back sarcastically, getting up himself and trying to find out how to turn off the TV. He put the remote on top of the set and pursued her into the kitchen.

"You know what you do that's creepy?" she informed him. "Follow me around like a dog."

"A cat," he insisted. "I'll come and go as I please."

"Sure," she quipped disbelievingly.

"Really, I am," he replied seriously. "Ruka's... good with that sort of stuff."

"Huh?" she said curiously.

"He... like, he sees people as animals a lot of the time; that's how he understands us. He says I'm a cat."

"Is that his...?"

"Yes." The conversation needed no naming; all was understood.

"He might have something in common with Sumire, then," she remarked after a little while, and when Natsume looked at her to elaborate she added, "She's a cat-dog type. You should see her when she's triggered."

"Mhm?"

"You've never seen a catfight until you've seen Sumire in a catfight," she laughed, and she spotted a creasing smile on him, as she dumped leftover vegetable soup and stock cubes in a pot and poured a kettle of water on top.

"What class is she?" he asked tentatively, leaning back against the side and enjoying the sensation of being cooked for.

"Mild," Mikan answered. "Most of the time it all goes on inside for her. She not..." she breathed in disappointment at herself, "like us."

His hands wrapped around her waist, and his lips met the back of her ear.

"There's nothing wrong with us," he murmured hopefully, "right?" She hesitated, but she knew it was each other's influence that had brought them to this point – before... before, they wouldn't have said they were normal without thinking themselves complete liars. But now they could almost believe it. Like this they could.

"Yeah," she whispered warmly, "right." She turned around, and they kissed over the stove. He didn't even care about the gas flame burning a little way behind them, it was nothing to him; when she was here it posed no more of a threat than the roof suddenly collapsing did.

He was safe.

"So?" she questioned intensely. "What do you think?"

Natsume sipped his everything-and-something stew with a cautious expression.

"It's... different," he said ambiguously, and she kicked him under the table.

"I bet you can't even cook," she taunted.

"No," he replied coldly, and she suddenly realized her mistake. Of course not. Let an Alice of Fire near a cooker?

"Sorry," she rushed, "I didn't mean anything by it–"

"It's okay," he said quietly. "Whatever. No big deal."

"Natsume," she said a little more insistently. "Over here?" He glanced at her. "Sorry," she told him firmly, and she could see it sinking in a little better than the first one.

"It's fine," he repeated, blinking slowly and taking a deep breath, like he'd forgotten to do it before.

They ate the mystery lunch quietly, but not abrasively, and as she took their bowls back to the kitchen Mikan stopped behind Natsume to throw her arms around him and hug him tightly. He laid his hand over her crossed forearms and let himself enjoy the moment.

How had he come to this? So much, and so quickly, but even as he progressed he couldn't wait to be shot of the self he was leaving behind. With her, he was the kind of person he almost liked being, someone who was real; something proper in this fake-shit world. He was not going to let that go.

It could be said, in that respect, that he was the one who saw it coming third.

Ta-da! Dossing around the house.

Here's a question, I've been considering how I might make this a piece of Original Fiction, and what I want to know is would you readers like/be interested in a piece of original fiction based on this fanfiction? It would have slightly different names, places, characters and probably different plot devices, but quite a lot of how this goes would be how it goes. Or something.

Let me know what you think, or just leave a review for the chapter :)