AN: Thank you again to everyone who read, reviewed, alerted, etc., the last chapter! It's nice to see, whether it's just the hit count going up or a review. As for those of you reviewed, I, er, have no idea how to work the review-reply thing. I'm kind of challenged with technology... But rest assured, I am very thankful!

Disclaimer: Junjou Romantica belongs to Nakamura Shungiku, et al. I make no profit from writing fanfiction.

The insistent knocking on the door coincided with Toudou's mad juggling to both put on his shoes and coat at the same time. Misaki, having finally worked up the will to move, had rolled himself onto Toudou's bed, which, according to his friend, served as the couch as well.

Toudou still looked pale, but he insisted he'd be fine once he got to school. "I'll grab the door," he called to Misaki, who groaned and rolled himself in the bedding in response. "Hello, Usami-san!"

Misaki peeked out from his safe haven as Usagi-san sidestepped Toudou into the apartment. He listened to Toudou say something about Usagi-san making himself comfortable, then he turned and called out a last goodbye.

"Gnngh," Misaki offered, flopping a hand out of the bed to wave. The door closed. He and Usagi-san were alone. At that point, he just closed his eyes, listening to the sound of Usagi-san kicking off his shoes, the soft pat of socked feet across the wooded floor.

"You scared the hell out of me." Usagi-san sat down on the edge of the mattress. It was low to the ground, no bed frame to speak of, so his knees were crooked up in a comical way, exaggerating the length of his legs.

"…sorry." Did he need to apologize? It was sort of an automatic reaction. Usagi-san always overreacted, and Misaki got the feeling that apologizing in the face of said overreactions was really only encouraging them to continue. "Aren't you supposed to be working, though?" He pushed the covers out of the way so he could sit up and was hit with a wave of nausea. "Guh…"

Usagi-san seemed to consider that for a moment, sitting back and adopting a haughty, pensive expression. Then: "I escaped," he announced grandly. "My Misaki might have been in trouble."

"Escaped," Misaki repeated flatly. "Oh, of course. That sounds reasonable."

Usagi-san pulled his cigarettes out of his breast pocket and lit up. "I thought so," he offered agreeably. "Especially after I spoke to Takahiro."

To his brother? What could he have possibly said that might have led Usagi-san to think that—

Oh.

Oh.

"What did Nii-chan say?" Misaki asked warily, pulling the sheets up to his neck like a shield. His brother must have mentioned Misaki's visit with Ijuuin. He knew he shouldn't have said anything about it when he told his brother he'd be staying with a friend!

"He mentioned you and a friend visiting that mangaka." Usagi-san said it so casually, like it didn't bother him at all, but his eyes were slowly growing dark, and the hand grasping his cigarette was too tense to be anything but irritated.

"Toudou wanted to meet him," Misaki said. "I didn't go alone, you know." Did he really have any reason to explain himself? He hadn't done anything wrong.

Though he certainly wasn't going to mention that awkward conversation about his supposed "charms."

Another slow exhale. "I know." Usagi-san's face was drawn, and it struck Misaki that the man looked like he hadn't been sleeping well. Or, knowing Usagi-san, hadn't been sleeping at all.

The conversation died. Misaki tried to think of something to say beyond are we having a fight?but for the life of him, the only thing he could manage to think of was how many steps it would take to get to the bathroom lest he started projectile vomiting. Somehow, he didn't think that would fix the situation.

But what was there to fix? It was just Usagi-san being, well, Usagi-san. There was no real right or wrong, just a muddle of miscommunications and hurt feelings that didn't make a whole lot of sense to begin with.

"We weren't there long," Misaki's mouth, though, didn't seem to get that he'd done nothing wrong. It persisted in feeding Usagi-san excuses, despite how dry his lips and tongue felt, despite the cotton in his head and the sour churning in his gut. "And we came back, but then we were drinking, so I didn't notice the phone—"

Honestly, he might have continued on forever had Usagi-san not twisted around and put his hand over Misaki's mouth. It was cool, and immediately comforting. Misaki found that he was lying back without thinking, his eyes drooping.

"I'll get you some water," Usagi-san offered after a moment. The apartment was so small that Misaki didn't even have to move in order to keep an eye on the errant author.

Toudou's dishware was limited, to say the least. The counter was lined with beer cans, and Misaki watched with detached amusement as Usagi-san shoved the whole lot of them into the sink, eyeing the row of three chipped mugs sitting behind the mess with a disdain fit for the name Usami. Finally, he seemed satisfied with whatever he'd been looking for, and picked the cleanest of the three, running it under the tap water for a few moments before dumping it and filling it up again, testing it to make certain the water wasn't too cold.

"Here," he said, offering Misaki the mug and settling down onto the floor next to the bed. "You look terrible."

Was that an apology? No, maybe not an apology, just an acknowledgement of the situation as unimportant?

Why the hell am I even still thinking about this? He obviously isn't worried! Misaki took a long gulp, leaned back, then proceeded to down the rest of the mug. "So good," he groaned. "More?"

Usagi-san took the mug. "No, sleep. You'll just make yourself sick."

"I already did that," Misaki pointed out, but rolled over and rested on his side anyway, pulling the sheets over his head just enough that only his eyes and up was still visible.

"I got nothing done," Usagi-san informed him. "You stole my considerable talent."

"…what?"

"Ah, this will do nicely." From the floor, Usagi-san grabbed several sheets of paper. Most of them had things already scribbled on the back, or were advertisements Toudou had picked up over the week. Usagi-san stacked them neatly on the low table, looking, finally, as pleased as he usually did.

Then he pulled out a very familiar pen. Misaki recognized it right off the bat. The engraving had worn from use, but otherwise, it still looked as pristine as it had when Misaki handed it to Usagi-san several Christmases before.

Writing off the sudden burn spreading over his face as the tail end of a massive hangover, Misaki let his eyes drift shut to the image of Usagi-san scribbling away, humming cheerily.

Misaki's eyes were open for several minutes before he was really and truly awake again. Usagi-san was still there, having somehow procured a notebook in the time Misaki had been asleep. Or perhaps not a notebook – he was writing in a The Kan journal. Toudou was going to go ballistic, he thought vaguely.

Usagi-san noticed him quickly. "Feeling better?"

Pausing a moment to take inventory, Misaki figured that yes, he was. His mouth was ungodly amounts of dry, but his stomach had settled for the most part, and the throbbing at his temples had faded to a dull, barely there ache. "Yeah." He sat up, working his mouth around the gummy, cotton-feel and wrinkled his nose.

He needed water. He shuffled out of the bed, but the moment he climbed to his feet, his bladder protested loudly that perhaps it deserved a bit of attention, thank you ever so much.

Bathroom, Misaki thought. Then water.

Usagi-san was really on the ball. He was outside the bathroom when Misaki walked out, mug in hand and a grin on his face. Anything more than a small smile really just looked obscene when it came to Usagi-san, so Misaki was understandably concerned, and made it a point to shuffle away with his back to the wall and his eyes narrowed. When he sat back down on the bed, Usagi-san followed suit.

"Thank you," Misaki said at last. "But are you even supposed to be here?" What time was it, anyway? "Toudou's classes last until—"

"He came by, actually," Usagi-san informed him. "While you were still out. He's at his part-time job right now." The grin became a flat-out leer. "So considerate of him."

There was a hand on his thigh. Misaki looked down at it, despairing, before shoving Usagi-san and scooting away. "No. Just—no."

"Poor Misaki," Usagi-san cooed, sliding within grabby-handed range with ease and nuzzling Misaki's neck. "You were so terribly hungover! But I was here to take care of you. I rather think that deserves a reward."

"There was no 'taking care'," Misaki said absently, more intent on worming his way out of the author's grasp than actually participating in his unique brand of inanity.

"I brought you water," Usagi-san insisted. "I fled the perilous grasps of the Japanese entertainment industry for you!"

"No," Misaki insisted right back. "You found an excuse to slack off and ran for it."

But no amount of arguing was going to change the fact that Usagi-san's hands were creeping beneath the waistband of his shorts or the fact that he was kind of being groped in Toudou's bed.

None of it boded well.

"Usagi-san, seriously!" Misaki squirmed harder, knowing that, realistically, he was only egging Usagi-san on, but his options were limited here! "This is Toudou's bed! Come on, we can't—not here!"

"This is so inspiring," Usagi-san murmured against Misaki's neck.

"Absolutely not!" Misaki howled. "We are not having sex in Toudou's bed!"

The mouth at his neck worked that sensitive strip of skin that never failed to send goosebumps flaring down Misaki's arms. He found his resolve wavering, and he tried to stop himself, he really did, but then Usagi-san was palming him through his boxers, and Misaki could feel how hard the man was every time their bodies shifted just so.

It wasn't fair. It really just wasn't fair how every little thing Usagi-san did was so captivating, could throw him over the edge so easily only to reel him back in the same damn second. Misaki couldn't be expected to resist, he justified to himself, and settled on working his fists into a clawing grip at Usagi-san's shoulders.

When Usagi-san husked his name in that toe-curling rumble, Misaki didn't even bother keeping up with the pretense of trying to reason with himself. He just let his eyes slide shut under the onslaught of pleasure and felt.

"Oh what the hell," Misaki groaned some time later, burying his face in his hands. "We had sex on Toudou's bed. I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO LOOK HIM IN THE EYE AGAIN."

Usagi-san was cramped between Misaki and the wall, spread out naked on top of the sheets, smoking idly and watching the smoke spiral up with a contented smile. "We did," he confirmed. "And you won't."

Somehow, the entire day had gotten away from Misaki. It was almost three in the afternoon, and all he'd done was—well, was nothing he wanted to think about, and Toudou would be home in not too long! Was an hour and a half enough to air the musty scent lingering? Surely, it wasn't nearly long enough to wash the sheets.

"This is terrible," Misaki informed the room at large.

"The bed is rather small." Usagi-san did a half-baked impersonation of a worm, trying to writhe but mostly just succeeding in looking like he was suffering from a minor seizure. "Next time, you should just stay home." And then, as though only just remembering how the situation had come to be, Usagi-san's expression sobered. He rolled onto his side and burrowed his face into Misaki's hair, inhaling deeply. "You should just come home."

"I can't. There's the filming, remember?" Misaki felt hollow as he said it.

"I don't want to do it. I'll just tell them—"

"Aiwaka will actually, really kill you this time if you do," Misaki warned. "And Isaka will help her hide the body. Usagi-san, this is a big deal! Even Nii-chan knows about Fame, and he still thinks the television cuts off at night!"

"Then you could come—"

"I can't," and now, the fight began to slip from Misaki's mind. Usagi-san was making that face, the one that made Misaki feel like he'd just kicked a puppy. "I'm sorry. You know what Iwate-san said, and he's right—sort of. I don't even want to be on TV…" He trailed off with a grumble, knowing he was edging into dangerous territory.

"I can't get anything done without you." Usagi-san sighed and ashed his cigarette. The clump fell right onto the sheets. Misaki wanted to scream.

"That's no different from usual. Look, it's only a few weeks. We can… we can meet!" That's right! Who said they couldn't? "Maybe—maybe for dinner every other night?" Was that being too intrusive? Misaki didn't know the first thing about how that type of show was filmed.

"And we could go to a hotel after," Usagi-san added, warming up to the idea. "I know of an excellent hotel in London—"

"No hotel," Misaki said firmly. Then, in case Usagi-san had missed the point: "And no leaving the country!"

"It's just," a melodramatic sigh, "I run out of Misaki so fast!"

"Oh, now you're just whining."

A humming noise broke through the conversation before Usagi-san could continue irritating him. Thankful for the interruption, Misaki leaned over the bed, searching for the source: it was his phone. Apparently, he'd never switched it off vibrate.

He unlocked the keypad, expecting it to be Toudou, or maybe his brother, but the number didn't belong to either of them. The blood froze in his veins as Misaki accepted the call: "H-hello, Aikawa-san," he squeaked. It was a clear admission of guilt.

"WHERE IS HE?" The force of her voice caused Misaki to jolt away from the phone. As if on reflex, Usagi-san dove off the bed and hit the floor. "SENSEI?" She was still shrieking. "GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE, YOU BASTARD! I WON'T LET YOU RUIN THI—"

The line died.

"Sometimes, she gets overexcited and hangs up with her chin," Usagi-san explained, getting to his feet. "She'll call back." He started rooting through the pile of clothes on the floor, separating his from Misaki's.

"You'd better go." The phone began to buzz again, but Misaki couldn't bring himself to answer it. Instead, he declined the call and sent a text saying that Usagi-san would return shortly.

"I would, but I haven't eaten, so I was just thinking about this restaurant—"

"Absolutely not! Aikawa will kill us both!"

"You love me, don't you? You ought to be willing to sacrifice yourself for my honor."

Where the hell he was pulling that from, Misaki couldn't begin to imagine. Rather than humoring the man, he just gave him a flat stare. "I like you tolerably well, but don't get ahead of yourself."

"So cruel."

"Just put your pants on and leave."

It took another ten minutes to convince the man that yes, Misaki was going to be fine; no, he didn't need any nursing; and definitely no way, no how was he willing to flee the country with Usagi-san. He sent the author on his way with the promise to meet up again as soon as Aikawa would allow and gave himself a few beats of silence after the door closed before he began to panic.

Toudou would be home within the hour. There was no way he could clean the sheets before then.

Losing himself in a mental diatribe against that bastard Usagi-san, Misaki opened all the windows and double – and triple – checked the sheets for any, ah, evidence.

Aside from the bed, the apartment was quite a bit neater than when Misaki had arrived. Usagi-san had used most of the papers that had been littering the floor. By the time the man left, he had quite the stack of handwritten fiction tucked under his arm. Misaki hoped that might appease Aiwaka's rage a bit, but he wasn't holding his breath.

For the first time since he'd set foot out of Usagi-san's condo, he was quite thankful not to be around.

Toudou opened the door at exactly half past four, and Misaki barely spent the time to squeak out a goodbye and I'llcallyoulater! before fleeing the apartment. He hadn't even remembered to close the windows, he realized as he dashed into the elevator.

No sense in worrying about that now.

He sent off a message to his brother saying he was on his way back and then double checked his phone. He'd missed only one class, a mid-morning anthropology elective that he didn't really like all that much, anyway. The professor usually seemed too concerned about obscure religious groups in Africa than anything relevant to him.

Within seconds of messaging him, his brother replied, telling him that he was working late, but Manami would have dinner ready as usual. He closed out of the message, only to immediately receive a second. That one was from Usagi-san, informing Misaki that Aikawa agreed to let him out of his cage for a date on Friday, so long as Usagi-san got a certain amount of work done.

The cage comment threw Misaki, as he wouldn't put it entirely past the woman to lock her wayward author up.

"A date, huh?" The rush of warmth in his chest almost made him trip on the sidewalk, it was so sudden, so dizzying. He'd never paid much mind to their date nights before – had, in fact, tried to avoid them on more than one occasion. And he'd only just seen Usagi-san!

As stupid as it seemed, Misaki couldn't wrap his head around just how much he wanted to see Usagi-san, not to mention how often. It was as though, with this forced distance between them, despite still being within minutes of one another, Misaki missed the man to a painful degree. If this was how bad it felt now, what would he do if Usagi-san actually did go overseas? Authors did that sort of thing, right? Went on tours? Usagi-san hadn't in the years they'd known each other, but that didn't automatically rule out the possibility. What would he do then? He couldn't very well drop his life and follow Usagi-san around the world!

"This is stupid," Misaki told himself. He'd keep saying it as many times as he needed to, as many times as it took, because this, dwelling on these weird what-ifs, wasn't going to fix a damn thing. It just made his heart hurt and his eyes burn, made him want to turn right around and run to Usagi-san's condo and demand his home back.

But then, he just felt selfish. He was running circles around himself, and it was alternating between making him maudlin and then pissing him off.

His emotional storm was interrupted, however, by another buzz – a message. Misaki looked at the screen: it was Toudou. The message merely read, Do you know what happened to my Kan stationary? It was on the table.

Misaki very nearly dropped his phone as he whirled around and screamed incoherently in the general direction of Usagi-san's condo.