"That night changed everything. It was the start of everything."
- Naru Narusegawa; 'Spreading My Wings'

Chapter I:
Midnight Rendezvous

July 25, 2006
Hinata Apartments, Hinata, Japan
2246 hours, local time

Evening at the Hinata dormitory. The sun had long since set behind the mountains surrounding the apartments, and the tenants were going about their nightly routine. For some, this routine was meditation. Others retreated to their rooms to tinker with new devices. For a few, the routine consisted of homework or studying.

And for a certain third-year ronin and kanrinin of the apartments, that routine consisted of attempting to study, then shortly finding himself distracted by the occupant of the room above his, and therefore unable to concentrate as he lamented his inability to reveal his true feelings for her.

But this night promised to be a night of routine-breaking. A knock sounded at his door.

Keitaro Urashima, third-year failure on the Tokyo University entrance exams and live-in manager of the Hinata all-girls' dormitory, looked up and called out, "Come in."

The door slid open, and there stood Seno Nakakami, Keitaro's friend of eleven years and master swordsman. As was usual, the taller man wore his "Buddy Jesus" red t-shirt, a pair of simple shorts, and was holding his sheathed sword over his right shoulder. "Yo, Keitaro," he greeted. "Studying hard?"

"You bet!" Keitaro replied, lying through his teeth as he discreetly slid a textbook down to cover the sketch of the tenant above his room that he had been drawing.

There was the sound of something hitting a metal object, and Seno glanced toward his sheathed sword before turning an almost-angry expression back to Keitaro. "You know better," was all he said.

The shorter man sighed and dropped his head onto his desk and the pile of textbooks thereon. "Dammit, it'd be easier to lie to you if you didn't constantly carry that sword with you."

"It's not just Shinaijou that tells me when you're lying, Keitaro," Seno replied, sliding the door shut behind him. "I've known you more than ten years, and you've never been a good liar in the first place."

His expression telling Keitaro that he wasn't quite finished, Seno walked over to his friend and sat down a few feet away, propping his sword up against his desk. He took a single glance up toward the covered hole in Keitaro's ceiling before dropping his voice to a low whisper, "You're thinking about Naru again?"

Before Keitaro even opened his mouth, Seno calmly drew his sword, Shinaijou, from its sheath and laid the blade across his knees. Where one would expect to find an immaculately-polished and razor-edged blade, one would instead find a weapon with a dim appearance, and jagged, poorly-maintained edges. The entire blade was covered in liquid, and seemed to weep openly. The would-be Tokyo University, or Todai, as it was nicknamed, student stared in horror at the condition of the blade.

"Don't know how much more lying Shinaijou can take," Seno said matter-of-factly. "You know I would've stabbed it into the ground for dramatic effect, like I usually do, but it no doubt would've snapped in half."

Keitaro didn't know what to say. He knew, as did everyone else living in the Hinata apartments, that the blade Shinaijou, or Truth and Love, was a weapon that reacted to honesty and love. Exposed to honesty and love, it would strengthen, and it would glow with an inner light brighter than the sun. Exposed to dishonesty or heartbreak, it would weaken to the point of breaking, its shine would diminish to nothing, and it would weep tears for those whose hearts were in pain.

"Why… does it not shine?" Keitaro asked. "Does that mean my love for Naru isn't real?"

"Idiot," Seno spat, resisting the urge to slap his friend with the flat of the blade. "You've seen Shinaijou shine like the sun whenever you and Naru are enjoying each others' presence. But in some cases, like this one, the heartache overwhelms the existing love."

Sighing, Keitaro closed the calculus book he had been trying to study and pushed it aside, revealing the sketch of a smiling Naru standing on a path shadowed by blooming sakura trees. It would have been a near-perfect photo-representation of her, save for the pair of beautiful angelic wings rising from her shoulder blades. Picking up his pencil, he began to make idle touch-ups to the sketched image.

Behind the two men, the plywood covering over the hole up into Naru's room slid away silently and the aforementioned young woman poked her head down through the hole, a question forming on her lips. But when she saw that Keitaro was talking to Seno, she decided that it could wait.

"You're right, Seno," he said after a while. "I can't take my mind off her. I love her more than I can put into words. I want to be with her so badly that it hurts. But all I am to her is a lazy, stupid, perverted idiot."

Halfway to returning the plywood over the hole, Naru had stopped and leaned back into Keitaro's room, silently observing the conversation. As Keitaro continued to pour his soul out to his best friend, the swordsman slowly and calmly turned his head just enough so that he made eye contact with Naru out of his left eye. The Todai hopeful froze, expecting him to reveal her presence, praying that he hadn't seen her, but when she saw his left eye blink shut for a moment before he turned back to the conversation, she knew that she was, for the time being at least, safe.

For nearly five minutes, she watched in silence as Keitaro kept talking, telling Seno everything about how he didn't mind when Naru launched him into low Earth orbit because she seemed happy when she was hurting him, to the fact that he had stopped caring about his promise girl long ago and only wanted to be with Naru, and finally to the miserable, soul-crushing statement that he thought himself to be wholly unworthy of Naru's love.

In the silence that followed in the wake of that comment, she could have sworn that she had heard Keitaro's heart break. Tears rose to her eyes, and she did nothing to impede them. For hurting him so deeply, she deserved a much harsher punishment than the dizziness she was experiencing from the blood flow rushing to her head.

Then, she realized that she had heard something break. It had been Seno's sword, which now laid on the ground, its blade separated into three distinct pieces, each one still weeping almost audibly.

"There you have it," Seno said quietly, gesturing off-hand to the shattered pieces of his sword. "The words you just uttered destroyed Shinaijou. Since you are well aware that only an extremely-severe lie can do that to Shinaijou, even in its previously-weakened state, then you know that the belief that you are unworthy of Naru is complete, as they say in America, bullshit."

Keitaro simply stared at the remains of the sword, too stunned for coherent thought. "I… you… but, she… how…?"

"Shinaijou is a holy weapon," the swordsman replied. "It can peer into the hearts and minds of those around it. It knows your feelings, and it knows hers. You are not unworthy of Naru, Keitaro. Deep in your heart, you know this to be true, even if your mind will not admit it. And deep in her heart, she also knows it."

Nodding slowly, Keitaro looked up at his old friend. "What do I do? How can I fix Shinaijou? How do I make everything right?"

"Your heart already knows," Seno answered, scooping up the sword shards and setting them on Keitaro's desk. "But for the sake of things, you need only tell her."

The kanrinin's head hit his desk with enough force to knock over the sword shards. "I've tried that, Seno," he moaned. "More times than I can count. But I always get interrupted, or I always have one of my stupid accidents."

"You didn't have me helping you before," Seno stated, as though discussing the weather. He picked up the smallest sword shard and set it in Keitaro's hand. "I will ensure that you are not interrupted, and this shard of Shinaijou will protect you from mishaps."

The swordsman stood, picking up the hilt of his sword and sliding what little fragment of blade remained attached to it into the sheath. "If you will indulge my usual knack for borrowing lines from pop culture genre…" He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, he spoke in the harsh, yet honest, tones of a certain red-clad ronin warrior from a popular role-playing game. "This is your story! Now is the time to choose! Die and be free of pain, or live and fight your sorrow!"

Still looking in, Naru could feel a large drop of sweat forming on the back of her head. Seno really likes his video games… she thought to herself. Then, she blinked. Ah, crap! They're coming up here! I'd better act like I was studying! With that, she withdrew her head and replaced the plywood cover, all in silence.

Down in Keitaro's room, Seno picked up the sketch book lying on Keitaro's desk and looked over the sketch his friend had drawn of Naru, then nodded appreciatively and handed it over. "Show her this, too. It may help. After all, she's your angel, right?"

"I…I really appreciate you doing this for me, Seno, but I don't think–"

"No, don't think!" the swordsman snapped, turning his friend around and pushing him out of the room, then down the hall toward the stairs. "Use your heart, boy, not your head!"

After a few seconds of Seno pushing him down the hall, Keitaro took control of his own path and marched toward the stairs, putting the Shinaijou shard in his pocket as he kept his sketchbook tucked firmly under his arm. The pair climbed the stairs in silence, and as they reached the top, the swordsman motioned his older friend on ahead.

"Don't want her to know I put you up to this, eh? Besides, I'll keep watch and make sure no one interrupts you."

Nodding confidently, Keitaro walked down the hall to Naru's room and knocked on her doorframe. "Naru, are you in?"

"Yes," her voice replied from inside almost immediately. "Come in."

With his free hand, Keitaro slid open the door, stepped inside, then slid it shut behind him and turned toward his secret love interest. She sat at her heated desk, several textbooks open on the desktop, and a pencil in her hand. She regarded him with a look of curiosity and, unless his ability to read emotions was off again, apprehension.

"Do you need something?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head and sat down at the desk across from her, laying the sketchbook down on the ground beside him. "No, I just wanted to talk to you."

Naru nodded, then set her pencil down and took the time to close each one of the textbooks on her desk. She then laced her fingers together and leaned forward onto the desk, looking him in the eye. "What did you want to talk about?"

This was it. The moment of truth. Keitaro felt heat beginning to rise to his face. "W-well, there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a long time…"

Outside, in the hallway, Seno leaned against the doorframe of Naru's room, his head tilted slightly toward the door so that he could hear what was being said within. So far, so good, he thought. Keitaro's getting right to the point this time. Guess my little Auron pep-talk did him some good. Now all I've gotta do is keep anyone from barging in…

As those words passed his mind, he heard the whisper of a door sliding open and looked down the hall to see Motoko Aoyama stepping out of her room, a faint cloud of incense smoke escaping into the hallway. The swordswoman saw him standing in the hallway, and as if it had been preordained by Fate, began walking toward him.

Ah, test number one, he thought. She would by far be the most difficult one to keep from interfering anyway, so it's just as well.

"Seno," Motoko called out, "what are–"

The simple raising of his left index finger against his lips silenced her question as he stood up from leaning against the doorframe and walked toward her. He stopped with barely a millimeter of space separating them, and leaned forward to whisper into her ear, "I finally had enough of the way that Keitaro and Naru are the only ones in this house who can't see how much they love each other, so I arranged things so that they can finally get their feelings out to one another."

The first thing to hit Motoko upon that revelation was a pang of jealousy. Seno was sharp, she knew he was aware that she also had feelings, however well-guarded, for Keitaro. And she was jealous that the swordsman would go to such trouble to set up Keitaro and Naru, and leave her high and dry.

But if there was one thing that Motoko was known for, it was that she often resorted to violence, usually against Keitaro, to salve her wounded pride. In two seconds, a fire of anger lit in her eyes and she reached her right hand down to the sword held at her left hip.

"You have the audacity and ignorance to see to it that Naru is left alone with that vile pervert?" she hissed, somehow managing to keep her voice low. Perhaps she, too, wanted to see Keitaro where he was truly happy, with Naru. Almost immediately, she shivered violently, shaking off that thought, and moved to step past Seno to get into Naru's room and break up whatever was going on in there.

She never got there.

Seno's right hand caught her left arm with a firm, yet gentle, grip and turned her away from Naru's room. She spun around, prepared to verbally lash out at the laid-back swordsman, but found herself lacking the ability to speak as she found his lips crushed against hers.

Her eyes widened in shock and she tried to call a dozen techniques to mind to throw the audacious man away from her, but none came. Some distant part of her mind gave her the impression that, even if she could find and choose a technique, her body would not have gone along with her plan to get him off her.

Slowly, unconsciously, she relaxed into the kiss. Her eyes slipped shut as she raised herself on the balls of her feet so that he didn't have to bend his head down so far. Her hands lifted away from her sheathed blade, her left clutching his t-shirt while her right settled on his shoulder.

After a full minute, the need for oxygen parted them and Seno leaned back, looking down at her apologetically. "I'm sorry," he told her. "I can't allow anyone to interrupt K–"

Now it was her turn to cut off his speech as she raised up again, pulling him to her as she kissed him with a sense of urgency. "I wouldn't dream of it," she whispered into his mouth.

Back inside Naru's room, Keitaro was beginning to panic. So far, he had once again been unable to just come right out and say what he felt for her, and he could feel his chance slipping between his fingers. But to his surprise, Naru wasn't becoming irritated or impatient with his mutterings, instead simply waiting patiently with a small smile on her face.

The three-year ronin sighed internally. Time to pull out the big guns, he thought to himself, borrowing a line he heard Seno say a lot. He lowered his hand to the floor, picking up the sketchbook, still turned to the sketched page of an angelic Naru, and handed the book across to her.

She took the book from him, looked at the sketch, and gasped audibly. The level of detail astounded her, but that was not what caused her reaction. It was the fact that, after all she had done to him, he still loved her enough to draw her in such a beautiful scene, and as an angel no less. Slowly, she pressed the drawing against her chest, as if trying to assimilate the wonderful and forgiving person in the drawing into herself. Tears fell from her eyes, darkening the fabric of her sweatpants.

Keitaro winced as he saw that reaction, assuming that his drawing had upset her in some way. "Naru, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"Shh," she said, reaching out her left hand and silencing him by touching her index finger to his lips. "It's okay." Slowly setting the sketchbook down on the desk between them, she wiped her eyes with both hands, then looked up at Keitaro and gave him a watery smile. "I heard, you know. What you were talking about with Seno before you came up here. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just… I'm sorry, Keitaro."

"Sorry?" he asked. "For what?"

The young woman stood up and walked around the table to sit beside him, then draped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. "For everything," she whispered. "For eavesdropping on you tonight, for always hurting you, for never listening when you tell me that it was only an accident." She squeezed him tightly, her tears soaking into his shirt. "For making you believe that you're not worth being with me."

Cautiously, slowly, Keitaro enfolded her in a gentle hug, rubbing her back through the material of her night shirt. "Naru…?"

"You are such a wonderful person, Keitaro," she continued. "You never even think of yourself, you only care about the rest of us. You're kind, compassionate, forgiving. You've never once raised a hand against any of us, even when we're unjustified in hurting you. I… I…"

A dozen or more ways in which she could finish that statement flashed through Keitaro's head, but he quickly settled on the two most likely candidates. He gave her a comforting squeeze, then said, "Don't worry, Naru. I forgive you. I'll always forgive you."

She replied with a half-laugh, half-sob, then closed her eyes and buried her face against his neck. "That's not what I was going to say, Keitaro," she said. "Even though I am always grateful to have your forgiveness. But what I wanted to say, Keitaro, is that… I love you."

Those three words were all he had ever wanted to hear her say for the past countless months of his life. With those three words, all the months of pain he had suffered as a result of his bad luck vanished as if they had never existed, and the crushing weight of his inadequacy shattered and faded into the abyss.

As she said those words, it was as if the very light of Heaven itself had come down from on high to fill the room with its calm, comforting light. But then he noticed Naru looking toward her door with wide eyes.

He turned as well, careful not to disrupt their current positioning, and saw the brilliant light coming from outside in the hallway, silhouetting two figures standing extremely close together. Both knew that the light had to be coming from Shinaijou, which meant that the taller of the two figures was Seno. But who was the other one?

Suddenly, realization blossomed on Naru's face. "Is that…" she breathed, "…Motoko?"

Outside, Motoko didn't know if it was their third or thousandth kiss. All she knew was that the taller swordsman effortlessly took her breath away with the slightest touch of his lips. Standing in his arms, she felt warm and protected, in a way she had not felt since her childhood.

As they parted once more for air, they both noticed the brilliant light emanating from Seno's left side. With trembling fingers, Motoko reached down and grasped the hilt of his blade, drawing it slowly and respectfully from its sheath. With every inch of it that was revealed, the light in the hallway only brightened.

After a few moments, the full length of Shinaijou had been revealed, its restored blade shining like a mirror as it gave off the intense, but soothing light. Gently, she pressed a finger against the blade, sensing not one imperfection in it.

Seno smiled and laid his right hand on her left. "That means that the mission is complete," he said, then looked over his right shoulder toward Naru's room.

Motoko looked as well, and smiled when she saw Keitaro and Naru peeking out of the door, both of their faces a study in surprise. A blush rising to her face, she looped her right arm through Seno's left and leaned against the taller man.

No words were exchanged between the two couples, but the serene, comfortable expression they shared on all their faces said more than words ever could. After a few moments, the two groups parted, Seno and Motoko heading for the swordswoman's room, while Naru and Keitaro retreated back into her room.

A few doors down from Naru's room, Motoko and Seno serenely sat upon her floor, quietly discussing the events of the night, and how it would change the days ahead of them. During a lull in the conversation, Motoko stood up and walked around the room, replacing spent incense candles and lighting the new ones. A very thin smoke filled the room, and the lightning from the candles made it seem very romantic. Unknowingly, her face reddened at that thought.

Taking a deep breath of the rising smoke, she stared into the flames of the last candle she had lit, wishing that it would burn away all the impurities of her soul and reveal to her the true desires of her heart. "Thank you for stopping me from interrupting them," she said, turning toward Seno. "It is wrong of me to continually prevent their happiness. My jealousy should not come between them."

The swordsman tilted his head to one side, studying her under the light. "You're very beautiful, Motoko."

If she hadn't known she had been blushing before, the rising heat in her face certainly indicated to her that she was now. That one simple sentence stunned her into silence. All she could do was stare at him, his countenance made even more handsome by the candelight that flickered over him.

How can he have such an affect on me? she asked herself. I can barely look at him without my heart beating faster. Is it Keitaro that I love? Or is it Seno? Her eyes then fell on the sheathed Shinaijou sitting beside him. There is one way I can find out…

She opened her mouth to ask him for his sword, but then stopped and clicked her jaw shut. If she took the sword in her hand and spoke both Keitaro's and Seno's names, comparing the resulting brilliance of the blade, she would most certainly know whom she was truly in love with. But that would be taking the easy way out, and Motoko Aoyama never took the easy way out of anything.

"Seno?" she asked quietly. "Do you love me?"

"From almost the moment I met you," he replied, immediately and without a second thought.

Her eyes widened slightly. The entire time…? Memories flashed through her mind; training and sparring sessions with the taller swordsman, laughter-filled meals with him and the rest of the Hinata tenants, passing encounters in the hallways. As she watched these memories, she paid careful attention to the way he acted and carried himself around her, as opposed to others. This time, she noticed subtle changes in his stance and attitude that revealed his feelings for her, affection at first, then graduating and deepening into love.

She looked down ashamedly, her face flushing deeper. He has loved me all this time, and I have been so caught up in my feelings for Keitaro. I wonder, did Naru feel this way just earlier tonight?

"You have known about my feelings for Keitaro," she said quietly, too ashamed to look at him. "You're observant, you don't miss these things. I can't imagine how much pain I've given you, for you to love me this entire time, knowing that my heart belonged to Keitaro."

Through her peripheral vision, she saw Seno stand up and approach her. She tensed, fearing that he would strike her, praying that he would take her into his arms and tell her everything would be okay.

But she felt neither. Not a stinging blow, or a comforting embrace. Without knowing why, she suddenly felt cold.

"Does it?"

The neutral tone in his voice made her wince. You have always been able to see through me, Seno. You have always known what is in my heart. "I no longer think so," she whispered.

Her head shot up and she glared at the swordsman, tears streaming down her face. She took the single step that separated them and leaned against him, her head resting on his chest. Neither lifted their arms to embrace the other.

"Keitaro passed my heart to you without he or I being aware of it," she said. "My feelings for Keitaro were a warm-up, a practice, for you." She sucked in a deep breath, then looked up into his brilliant green eyes. Let him be his own Shinaijou now. "Keitaro helped me to open up to others, to embrace my femininity. He taught me how to love, so that I could love you."

It was then that he smiled, that loving, damnable smile that made her want to do anything for him. He brought his arms up and wrapped them around her, holding her tightly against him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, a feeling of warm comfort filling her very soul as he rested his cheek on the top of her head.

"You are beautiful, my Motoko," he said.

She blushed, and stopped supporting her own weight, sliding down to the floor and pulling Seno down with her. Interlacing her fingers with his own, she laid back on the floor and used their intertwined hands to pull him down to her, lifting only her head to press her lips to his.

"I never expected Seno and Motoko to hook up," Keitaro said, scratching his head nervously as he sat down again at Naru's desk.

"I did," Naru replied, sitting down right next to him and slipping her arms around his waist before laying her head on his shoulder. "I've noticed the little looks she gives him, and the way she gets flustered whenever his name is brought up in conversation."

Keitaro smiled and slid a hand gently up and down Naru's back. "It seems we can figure out everyone else's love interests but each other, huh?"

"Yeah, we're both pretty blind about us," she said. Then she sighed and closed her eyes. "Keitaro, how can you care for me as much as you do? I constantly abuse you and call you names, but you find it within your heart to forgive me, and even portray me as an angel."

He turned toward her, wrapping both arms around her and hugging her tightly. "You are an angel to me, Naru," he said. "For you, I would take any amount of pain and smile. I would walk through the fires of Hell just so you wouldn't feel any pain. You're my everything, Naru, my all. I love you, more than I could ever put into words or art."

Holding him tightly against her, she silently cried into his shoulder. "I'm not an angel, Keitaro," she whispered. "Angels do not harm the ones that love them. I promise you, Keitaro. I'll never hurt you again. Never."

"With the way I always screw up, that may not be so easy, Naru," he replied, truthfully.

"I know." She unwrapped herself from him and sat back, staring at him with a fierce determination that was in no way dulled by the tears staining her cheeks. "But I'll never give up. All I need is your help."

"Anything that you need me to do, Naru, I'll do for you," he said, steel underlying his words.

She smiled, then reached up and placed both hands on his cheeks. "I know," she repeated, then leaned forward and kissed him. She felt him relax and lose himself in the kiss almost immediately, but she couldn't do that yet. For the sake of training herself not to hit him for the slightest perceived injustice, she had to stay focused.

Her hands dropped from his face, sliding down his neck, shoulders, and arms to seek out his hands. Taking his right in her left, she maneuvered his hand to her back, then slowly began pushing it down her body, trying hard not to shiver at the sensation of his fingers sliding down her back. His hand passed her waist, and she sent it down further, beyond the point where her instincts began to call for her to slug him.

To his credit, Keitaro seemed to unconsciously realize where his hand was and sought to either bring it back up or pull it away entirely. Naru would have none of it, however, and seized his hand by the wrist, forcing it down onto her rear. Even though she had planned the contact, and knew it was coming, his touch still caused her to start slightly.

Slowly, she began to loosen her grip on his hand. Content that he wasn't going to move it again, she took his other hand and also maneuvered it onto her body. A warm sensation shot through her as she settled his fingers onto her breast.

Once more, his body realized where his hand was and tried to get the offending appendage away from where it was. And again, Naru wouldn't let him. Deep down, she knew the fact that, after she had deliberately placed his hands in prime groping positions, he tried to remove his hands rather than grope meant that he was not remotely the pervert they had always made him out to be.

My Keitaro, Naru thought to herself, letting go of his hands and wrapping her arms around his neck. Such a noble soul. He doesn't have one perverted bone in his body. As she kissed him with a passion she didn't know she possessed, she likewise began to lose herself in their kiss.

A few moments later, the need for air beckoned the two to part. As they did so, and both of them came back to their senses, Keitaro very consciously noticed where exactly his hands were placed. All the blood rushed to his face as his mind began to dream up dozens of elaborate ways that he was going to meet his end in the next few minutes.

Naru, herself, had not been immune to surprise when she'd regained a sense of her surroundings outside of Keitaro's lips and noticed his hands. It then took her another second to remember that she'd put his hands where they were, to see if she could train herself to think through a situation instead of just react.

She smiled upon realizing that she had thought through it, because God knew that had she woken up just a few days ago to find one of his hands on her rear and the other on her breast, she would have killed him right where he stood. But now, she realized with a blush that it just felt right to have his hands where they were.

Focusing her eyes on Keitaro, and noticing that his entire face was red, she knew that there were only seconds left until he panicked and tried to get away from her. She tightened her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead against his. "Keitaro," she said.

Flinching, his hands rocketed away from her body as he tried vainly to free himself from her grip. "I-I'm s-sorry, Naru!" he stammered. "I d-didn't m-mean to…"

She silenced him with a soft kiss. "Don't be afraid, Keitaro," she said, dropping light, fleeting kisses on his face. "It wasn't you. I put your hands on me, to force myself to think when you touch me, instead of just acting. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

He seemed to recover himself and gave her a smile. "Don't apologize, Naru," he said. "I understand."

Smiling, she kissed along his jawline. "Can I ask you a favor, Kei?" she asked, testing out the sound of the nickname that had suddenly appeared in her mind. Just like his touch, the name felt so right to her. "Well, two, actually."

"Anything for you."

"First, put your hands back where they belong."

At first, he thought his hands had acted of their own accord to touch her again, but when he felt them held ramrod straight at his sides, he was confused. Then, he realized exactly what she meant by that and his face reddened again.

"Please?" she all but begged, kissing him just below his left ear.

With a slow nod, he raised his trembling hands. His right hand slipped around her waist, then slid down to rest lightly on her rear end. As his left hand neared its intended destination, it trembled even harder. Pausing just inches away, he looked up at her with questioning eyes.

She gave him the most loving smile she could muster. "It's okay," she said.

Nodding, he clenched his hand into a fist until it stopped trembling, then unclenched his hand and softly placed it on her breast. Her breath caught in her throat at his touch, then she smiled and kissed him softly.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked him. "And see? I didn't even think about hitting you."

He smiled as well and kissed her nose. "What was the other favor?"

Instead of answering, she used her arms, still wrapped around his neck, to pull him along with her as she stood up and walked backwards, heading toward her futon. By the look on his face, he knew where she was taking him, but his expression also said that he trusted her implicitly.

Slowly, carefully, she guided the two of them down until they were laying on her futon, facing one another. Only then did she allow him to move his hands to assume a more comfortable position, the two snuggled up together with her head pillowed on his chest, and his arms wrapped around her waist.

"Stay with me tonight," she said.