Chapter title: Touch
Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon.
Notes: Righto. This chapter marks something very special for me, as it contains my 100,000th uploaded word. That means that I'm officially a tenth of the way to writing something acceptable. How good's that? And also, if there are any unusual pairings anybody wants to see more of, please tell me. I can't decide which ones to use for my other upcoming fics by myself. Cheers.

Week 4

Today, when he invited me to sit with him, I was glad for my ability to school my expression.

In fact, if it weren't for this talent, I may very well have been reduced to a gaping puddle on the floor of the train at the mere thought that he'd spoken to me at all. At the very least, I'd have stopped in my tracks, my mouth falling open and finding myself unable to stop staring at him in bewilderment. How completely embarrassing that would have been. But it was a most unexpected turn of events, and I believe I would have been excused if I had less self control and had reacted that way.

Fortunately, I am not an idiot and I could control myself with relative ease. To tell the truth, there weren't many other options available to me; the train was abnormally busy. A clean-shaven man in a smart suit with a briefcase huddled on his lap, a businessman, had taken my usual seat. And, aside from the seat next to the boy, there were only two other free places in that carriage if I didn't want to be standing up, and both of them were adjacent to overweight, scowling men who looked as if they hadn't so much as seen a shower in the better part of six months. It wasn't something I wanted to endure for the twenty minutes it would take me to reach Tamachi station, and not particularly keen to explore the rest of the carriages for a slightly less crowded empty seat, I took the boy up on his offer.

Of course, I would have accepted anyway. I was certainly not going to be the fool to refuse such an invitation from someone so deliciously tempting.

So I sat next to him and deliberately brushed my arm against his. He burned me through my shirt without even realising he was doing it, and it was wonderful. I silently hoped that he wouldn't move away and he didn't; he just smiled at me, with that same, friendly, easy smile I'd seen him send my way before. "Hey."

I can't even begin to express how excellent it was that he was speaking to me. I must have already mentioned, on countless occasions, how pleased I am that I'm not a giddy schoolgirl, but all the thanks from those times put together couldn't compare to the gratitude I felt for it today. It was brilliantly effortless to look back at him and smile in a way that clearly stated all the intentions I had for him. "Hey."

I certainly didn't expect our conversation to go beyond the boundaries of a simple greeting; my more realistic side had already assumed that he would turn to look out of the window, and that would be the end of that. This was why I, sadly, couldn't help but jump in my seat a little when he spoke again. "I see you every day."

His words were short, blunt and to the point. That's what I like. Especially when they're spoken in that gorgeous, raspy voice he's been blessed with. It was a shame that I'd made the mistake of letting myself be caught off guard, really. He might have thought he was frightening me, when in actual fact nothing could be farther from the truth. Even if I wanted to move, I wouldn't have been able to. He was looking at me, keeping me locked in place, and he smelled so appetising that it was all I could do not to ravish him then and there. As much as I wouldn't have minded getting dirty with him in public, he might have had somewhat different opinions and I had no intention of taking a risk like that.

"I know that," I answered him, "I see you too. You always sit here."

The one thing I wanted to avoid at all costs was to sound or seem like a stalker. Nothing is less attractive than an obsession, after all. But as far as I was concerned, he wouldn't have thought it strange for me to know that he sits in the same spot every day. He knew I walked through there, so it's only natural that I should notice him as well. Unless he expected me to be some kind of ignorant cad, which I refused to act like.

We sat in a contented silence before he spoke again. "What's your name?"

"Ken."

I didn't ask him his name in return right away; I was a little more concerned with the unawareness on my part which I hadn't even acknowledged until that moment. How was it possible that I hadn't known his name prior to this encounter? It was just…inconceivable. And then, when I thought about it, I really didn't know anything about him. I knew what he looked like, and I knew what he smelt like and I knew what he sounded like, but what about his personality? I didn't know what sports he plays, I didn't know what kind of people he likes, I didn't know if he had a girlfriend or not. The only reason I knew which school he goes to was because I recognised the distinct uniform. I didn't even know his name, so I had to ask, and when I did he replied, "Daisuke."

He shuffled a little in his seat, his arm moving against mine and setting my skin on fire. Anybody who wasn't paying attention would have missed the tiny bit of distance he erased between us, but not me. My senses were alight. There was nothing he could do while I was sitting so close to him that would escape my notice.

When I looked up and saw him still smiling at me, I grinned and eyed him up and down, from his sneaker clad feet to his shining, burgundy hair. Daisuke, I thought, the name purring in my mind, we're going to have so much fun together. You'd better prepare yourself.