Baltogirl basically prompted this out of me, as I tend to up and at'em when I get random reviews after forgetting to update. So cheers to him/her for sticking a flame under my ass and enjoy the declicious peverteness (it's pretty heavy this chapter)

Mikan is sixteen in two months and two weeks.

Now Natsume had been sure, positive and absolutely certain that he was 'kinkier' than Mikan in every way conceivable.

I mean, after all, he'd been flipping her skirt and reading dirty books in class since he was ten. Whereas she was incapable of a bad thought and used to bawl about 'never being able to become a wife' when he did something insignificant like pulled down her top or fingered her in lessons.

But some impressions are not always the right impressions, and Natsume learnedthat in one of the strangest ways possible.

-/-/-

"Oh," said Mikan sadly as she threw herself against the laboratory of Hotaru Imai and found it locked, "I really thought that she might've been here." The truth was that Hotaru had been in Egypt for well over six months now, and had only told Mikan she was suddenly back in town little more than half an hour ago.

So after running out of the middle of an Alice film and dragging her perturbed date along with her, it was somewhat disheartening for Mikan to find the door to her best friend firmly bolted shut.

"Maybe…" she began to whimper as Natsume chose not to mention the 'inventing' sounds that were coming from within the room, "maybe she's already gone!" Natsume sighed and pulled her into a hug, his chin sitting comfortably on top of her head and fingers smoothing out her hair.

"…Probably." He said flatly, and all at once Mikan and sprung and twisted out of his arms squealing in an appalling fashion.

"You aren't supposed to just say 'probably'!" She screamed, and attempted to hit him for his stubborn lack of empathy.

He stopped the blow and just rolled his eyes – Mikan had yet to realize that whenever she tried to see Hotaru on his time he did anything possible to prevent the two meeting up. He didn't ask for much, but he would not share her when it was his time.

"Fine." He replied curtly, "What do you want me to say?" Mikan took a step back and became distant for a moment, thinking through his question and sniffling a little. Then suddenly an ecstatic and slightly sinister grin crawled across her face.

"It's not what you have to say, Natsume," she told him, snapping onto his arm beginning to drag him down the corridor, "you just follow me."

At first Natsume had possessed no problems when Mikan Sakura pulled him into the nearest room and began taking off his clothes. It wasn't usually this way round, but this would suit him just fine.

However, when she started putting things back on him right after he began to nurture some suspicions.

"What are you… (mph) doing?" he protested as she pushed some kind of cotton shirt over his head and yanked his arms into odd positions, "M…(mph)…ikan!" she stopped for a second while he blinked as if startled and tried to take in the situation.

It was only when he looked down at the ill-fitting (on his frame at least) undershirt that things began to fall into place.

"This is…" he stuttered as she quickly did up the buttons and rushed back across the room to dig through a chest of drawers she'd ripped open, "Oi! Mikan!" He finally snapped, and she spun around meekly, a woollen sweater clasped behind her back.

"An explanation," he hissed, "if you would." It wasn't really surprising that he wanted some kind of explanation for why she was putting Hotaru's clothes on him.

He thoughthe was bad.

Then again. He probably was. After Mikan he'd sworn to live whatever of his life he got as fully and vividly as he could.

And that meant trying everything once.

"…that top is awful," he commented as he began to redo the buttons she'd rushed and gotten wrong, "pick something else, no wool either, it makes my skin crawl." Part-disturbed and part-relieved that he hadn't fried her to a crisp, Mikan slowed down and began shuffling through the drawers in a more ordered manner.

"This?" she suggested timidly, holding up one of Hotaru's favourite sweaters.

"Sure," he replied and raised a hand to catch it, "hand it here then." Mikan did so, eyes widening as Natsume calmly pulled it over his head, pushed the sleeves up over his elbows and crossed his arms over his chest with one eyebrow cocked.

Mikan was reminded of the time when they were kids and Ruka had been persuaded into wearing her school uniform, and on that thought went through some of the other drawers until she found the real test.

"This?" she practically whispered, what had formerly been one of Hotaru's school skirts hanging on the tips of her fingers, and waited for his reaction.

"…" Natsume narrowed his eyes at Mikan and thought for a moment, "alright."

Even now she could still surprise him. And he could surprise her right back.

-/-/-

"Ooo, Natsume!" she gushed as she twirled his necktie around her finger, "you have such nice legs," He looked up at the ceiling and pretended like he didn't feel strangely liberated by the skirt or flattered by the comment. But soon he had his attention grasped when a pair of arms that weren't his in a shirt that was looped around his neck, and Mikan buried her face in his shoulder.

"Mmmm," she sighed as he placed his hands around her waist and pulled her body closer to his, reminding her that even if he was in girl's clothes, he was still very much of the other sex, "you smell like Hotaru."

He chose not to reply and instead slipped a hand under the end of his/her shirt and ran it up her back, the other venturing lower as Mikan quickly lifted her face and their mouths crushed together in a mess of emotions.

"Hotaru…" she murmured as she fisted her/his hands in her top, and a little in annoyance and more so in retaliation, Natsume pulled her hard against something that would not normally be found in a skirt, "Natsume!" Mikan gasped over herself, "Natsu…" she broke down to a whimper, squirming and arching her back as he started undressing her for real.

-/-/-

Later on Natsume wondered what the cost of getting Imai's clothes dry-cleaned would be.

-/-/-

But after that, when Mikan had woken up again and got into the underwear drawer, he really couldn't care less.

(Places hand in the middle and chants 'super-hentai-poweruppppp!')

Perverts unite!

Thankyou to everyone whose read and/or reviewed this little selection of oneshots, your support makes me very happy and I hope to continue recieving it in the future :D