AN: This chapter was delayed because I'm in the midst of finals right now. I usually sit down and write a chapter in one go, but this one was written in bits and pieces during spare time. So updates will be slow for the next week! Also, a big thank you to missmysty, who pointed out that magical little blue button on the reviews. I can reply to things now! Or will, once finals are over? As usual, thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed, etc.

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

Misaki sent Usagi-san a message before he went to class telling the man to park down the street from campus so as not to make a scene. Even so, he wasn't surprised to see the red sports car parked directly in front of the campus as he made his way toward the road, though the blatant disregard of his request didn't quite put him in a 'date' kind of mood.

"You're causing a scene," Misaki said, climbing into the car. "Again."

"I've never done such a thing in my life," Usagi-san replied, and as if it would somehow prove his point, he peeled out, nearly clipping one of the university students attempting to cross the road. Misaki covered his mouth and twisted around, watching the guy wave (without all his fingers, mind) angrily after them, growing smaller and smaller until Usagi-san took a sharp right.

"Right," Misaki said, voice tight. "Of course not."

"We're going on a trip," Usagi-san spoke over any complaints Misaki might have had.

"I only told Nii-chan I'd be gone for the night…"

"I'll escort you home in the morning. Promise."

It's not that Misaki didn't believe him. It was more that he had no idea where the hell they were going that bothered him. Usagi-san pulled onto the freeway, merging without checking his rear view mirror, and Misaki swore his lungs just stopped working for a moment.

"Where are we going?" he finally asked, his heart rate returning to normal.

"It's a surprise. Be patient." And then Usagi-san gave him one of those smile, the ones that spoke I love you just as easily as the man himself did.

Misaki gave a loud harrumph and slouched in his seat, staring fixedly out the window and ignoring the reflection of his burning face.

He must have slipped off to sleep at some point, because one moment, he was staring at cars passing by, and the next he was blinking tiredly at a parking lot. The car was still, and Usagi-san was not in the driver's seat.

Apprehension playing at his gut, Misaki rubbed his eyes and looked around the parking lot, which seemed to extend forever into the horizon. It was still light outside, and a quick look at his phone told him almost exactly an hour had passed since Usagi-san picked him up from the university.

Climbing out of the car, Misaki kept one hand on the top of the door while he looked around, squinting into the distance. It was a parking garage rather than a lot on its own, and he was on the top level. But where was Usagi-san? It seemed odd that the man would just leave Misaki sleeping in the car and walk away.

He fumbled his phone back out of his pocket and called Usagi-san, still shaking off the fog wrapped 'round his brain after the unintentional power nap. He never did handle napping during the day with grace. Usually, he wandered around for hours after like a zombie, somehow feeling both exhausted and ill just from catching some quick rest.

The line picked up and rang twice before Usagi-san answered. "You're awake."

"Where are you?" Scratch that, Misaki thought. Where was he?

"Checking us in. Come down, the entrance is right by the exit from the garage." And then he hung up.

"If he was going to make me come down anyway, he should have just gotten me up!" Misaki locked the car and looked around for the exit. There was an elevator, and he quickly discovered that he was in an eight-level garage. What kind of hotel had an eight-level parking garage?

Of course, once he got to the exit, he quickly figured the answer out: it was a huge hotel, and the doors alone looked terribly expensive. Usagi-san always did go all out.

The garage was attached to the hotel by a sort of tunnel, which prevented any view of whatever was outside. It was dimly lit and had plush red carpeting. He had trouble understanding the point of such an expense, but then, Misaki figured he was too low-brow anyway.

Usagi-san was in the lobby, standing just to the right of the front desk and staring off at a large fountain that was actually in the lobby: it was covered in blinking, multicolored lights. Just looking at it gave Misaki a headache.

"This is kind of over the top," Misaki told him. "I thought we'd just go to a movie and get dinner, or something!"

"That was my initial plan," Usagi-san admitted. "But I ran into a problem."

He'd actually been planning for a normal date? Misaki had a little trouble buying that. "Problem?"

"The camera crew. They got word somehow that I was going to meet someone and insisted that one of them come along."

Well, that would have been bad. Misaki cringed. "What happened?"

"I told them I had to go buy cigarettes and made a run for it." That Usagi-san could look so serious about his childish escape plans made Misaki want to laugh.

Feeling rather proud that he kept a straight face, Misaki shook his head. "Aikawa is seriously going to kill you."

"She already knew what I was planning," Usagi-san said dispassionately."She'll take care of things. Come, let's go to the room."

On the brief trip to the room, Misaki managed to completely overwhelm himself with the sheer posh atmosphere of the hotel. Even the Teito Hotel hadn't been so nice! It occurred to him that this one might have the bath lions, but the fact that he was so concentrated on something so stupid made him feel a bit irritated with himself. At his side, Usagi-san was, of course, completely unaffected by the high class glamour.

"Here it is." Usagi-san pulled out the card key and slid it into the slot, then shoved the door open, holding it for Misaki to go in first. "I already had the bags sent up."

"Bags? But I didn't bring any—" On the bed – the single king-sized bed, Misaki was unsurprised to note – sat two travel bags. Both of them looked brand new.

"I packed for you," Usagi-san said, already lighting up a smoke. "But since I had to escape, I didn't have time to actually bring any of your things. I just went to the store and got everything new."

"Why didn't you just tell me to bring clothes?" Misaki demanded, pointing at the bed. "That's such a waste!"

Grabbing the hotel-issue ashtray, Usagi-san ashed his cigarette and stared pensively at the irate young man. "It was a surprise. I didn't want to ruin it."

Right. Of course. Misaki rolled his eyes and huffed and made a grand spectacle of his irritation, but that didn't stop the little bundle of warmth from seeping out of his heart. He wanted Usagi-san to be prepared in the event of an emergency, to not go hungry if he somehow lost everything – including his writing career. But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel touched at the man's grand gestures. It never failed to get his heart thumping every time, even as the much more practical part of his mind scorned the very idea.

Misaki sat at the edge of the bed, surveying the room. "So," he began, "did you ever, er, talk to people about that thing?"

"Thing?"

"The," Misaki shrugged helplessly, "the love life thing."

"Ah." Usagi-san took a drag, exhaled slowly, then snubbed his cigarette out in the tray. "They said it was nothing to worry about. Just a hook." He gave Misaki a sideways look. "Like I told you."

"I just wanted to be sure. It would be bad for you otherwise."

"I wouldn't mind. I have nothing to be ashamed of."

The last part sounded pointed, hitting too close to home for Misaki to consider it anything but an accusation. He couldn't help the irritation welling in his chest. "Neither do I," he snapped defensively.

Usagi-san's eyebrows shot up. "I never said you did."

You didn't need to, Misaki wanted to say. But then, feeling somewhat discouraged by the way he was so stuck on the idea, Misaki abruptly switched the topic. "Why this hotel, anyway?"

"I stayed here once for an award ceremony. Not mine, though, for another author. I remember liking the place well enough." Usagi-san came and sat down close to Misaki, their thighs pressed together. Warmth spiraled in Misaki's core, and he unintentionally leaned in to the man.

"I guess it's pretty nice," he admitted. "But it looks so expensive!"

"Only to you." Usagi-san pressed his forehead to Misaki's, closing his eyes and smiling blissfully. This was the closeness Misaki missed. It wasn't the—the other stuff so much, Usagi-san's pouncing, but just the quiet moments they sat close together, or just talked, or ate together. Living with his brother felt stale, and even though Misaki didn't want to admit it –to be sure, he didn't believe himself even capable of admitting it – doing anything without Usagi-san felt hollow as of late. He wondered why it took being alone for him to see that.

Misaki's stomach took that moment to growl loudly, shattering the intimacy with an overwhelming gurgling noise.

"Sorry," Misaki said, sitting away and staring at his hands. "I didn't eat lunch! I thought we were going to, and so…" He shrugged.

"It's fine. I'll call for room service." The interruption didn't seem to faze Usagi-san at all. He still looked just as happy as he leaned away, stretching his arm to grab the menu from the bedside table. He handed it to Misaki. "Order whatever you want."

"What about you?"

"You know what I like."

"Pasta with green peppers it is."

Usagi-san scowled.

It wasn't much different from being home, Misaki decided as they stacked the empty dishes back onto the room service tray and set it out in the hall. Usagi-san was sitting at the table smoking, and Misaki was flipping through one of his new textbooks and shooting question after question at the man. It wasn't anything like a date. He'd even tried dropping a few hints about going out, but the older man didn't bite.

Figuring subtlety was wasted, Misaki decided to just say it outright: "Usagi-san, why don't we go somewhere?"

"Research," Usagi-san answered, and beckoned Misaki closer.

He walked over to the table, and Usagi-san leaned up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "What the hell?"

"For a BL novel," the man continued over Misaki's spluttering. "I've never had a secret love affair before." He sounded almost wistful.

Before he stopped to think about it, Misaki rolled his eyes and said, "Then what do you call us?"

"Just in love."

The answer left Misaki so flustered he couldn't quite respond for a few moments. Then, "Yeah," he said quietly, "I guess that's right."

"Oh? A confession so early?" Trust Usagi-san to ruin any potential moment.

"Yeah, right," Misaki scoffed, climbing to his feet. "Well, I still say we should go some—"

But Usagi-san was not to be deterred. He jumped up just as quickly, intent on sweeping Misaki off his feet. Literally.

"YOU ASS," Misaki howled, flailing his arms. "PUT ME DOWN."

"Understood!" Usagi-san complied cheerfully, dropping him on the bed and crawling after him. By the time Misaki managed to right himself, Usagi-san was already guiding him down, his back to the mattress.

"I should've expected this," Misaki said, shooting the darkest glare he could muster at the man prowling over him like an over-sized wildcat. Despite his grumblings, however, Misaki's hands were already resting lightly on Usagi-san's shoulders.

"You should have," the older man agreed, sliding a hand up Misaki's shirt to rest on the soft, flat plane of his stomach. "Really, you ought to know better."

At that point, Misaki just huffed and gave in. Really, the only thing he was surprised about was that it had taken the man so long to get Misaki in bed. He'd been expecting – though definitely not hoping! – to wind up on his back within about thirty seconds of walking into the hotel suite.

Usagi-san nipped his ear, and his hands wasted no time in going to work. "How do you want it? I'll do whatever you like."

Really, Misaki thought, irritated at how even his thoughts sounded breathless, he should have been expecting this.

The amount of time they could spend in bed shocked Misaki. Of course, such thoughts often led to darker arenas, so he didn't entertain them for long. At some point, night had fallen outside, and Usagi-san, finally having had enough of fighting his age, had flopped down on his back at Misaki's side, propped up against the headboard with two pillows, smoking idly as he flipped through channels on the television.

Misaki was on his stomach, his head pillowed in his arms. The room was stifling, but he didn't want to kick the sheets off lest he stir Usagi-san into another frenzy. Granted, it was likely strange that he thought in such a way, but that didn't make it any less truer. The man was just that predictable.

"There's never anything on TV worth watching," the older man was complaining, waving the remote at the large-screen television.

"You're going to be on TV soon, you know." Misaki shifted onto his side, catching a glimpse of some game show or other before Usagi-san went back to channel surfing. "Are you going to watch it?"

"I have to." He sounded less than pleased about it, too. "There's a live segment at the end of the special. An interview. It's part of the contract."

"Ah, that's right. I forgot about that." Misaki's eyes were drooping. How the hell did he feel so wiped out already? A glance at the clock told him it was only a quarter past seven. No way, he thought. What was he, an old man? They hadn't even had dinner yet!

"Are you going to watch it?"

"Hm?" Misaki decided that if he didn't sit up, he'd lose the battle to sleep. Shifting up, and moving carefully so as not to let the sheets fall down, Misaki tugged one of the pillows away from Usagi-san and rested it against the headboard before leaning back against it. "Watch what?"

With something approaching hesitation, completely uncharacteristic of the man, he repeated himself: "Are you going to watch the show?"

Oh, that show. "Well, sure!" Did he really even need to ask? "I was going to watch it with you, but maybe I'll ask Toudou to come over and watch it with me." The passing mention of his friend stirred a memory of the awkward conversation they'd had. Of course, Toudou had never mentioned it again, but every time he thought of how he'd just lied to the guy he considered his closest friend, Misaki's gut knotted with guilt. "Ah, say, Usagi-san…"

"Hm?"

"If—" How was he supposed to ask this? "If you were going to, you know, tell someone," Misaki faltered. "About us, I mean. If you were going to tell them, how would you do it?"

Judging from the look on the man's face, that was the last thing he expected Misaki to ask. "How would I do it?" Usagi-san echoed. "I would just tell them. But Misaki, I can't imagine something working for me would necessarily work for you."

That was true. With Usagi-san's self-confidence – or rather, arrogance – the idea of telling someone about their relationship was likely as easy as breathing. But for Misaki, it felt daunting, an impossible task. His mind chased the possibility out of orbit with errant thoughts about rejection, humiliation, of that one little revelation somehow ruining everything for the both of them.

"Is there someone you want to tell?" Usagi-san asked it slowly, as though Misaki was a stray cat he was trying not to scare away.

Misaki tried to still his fidgeting hands by fisting them in the sheets. "I think so. Maybe. I mean—part of me thinks he might already know. Or maybe just suspects something is off?"

"Is it Takahiro?"

At that, Misaki laughed outright. "Nii-chan wouldn't suspect us of anything even if he caught us in the—uh, caught us doing anything! I'd have to spell it out for him."

"Then who?"

"Well…" It was all right, wasn't it? If he couldn't tell Usagi-san, then who could he possibly expect to understand? "Toudou. I just—he—he kind of asked. And I didn't, well, I mean—I lied to him! And he's, you know, he's my friend!"

Usagi-san got the strangest look on his face, like he couldn't settle on one way to feel, so his mouth kept twitching up and then down, and his eyes were wide open. "Really?" He breathed the word.

"I feel like he deserves to know," Misaki said. "If he's my friend, then I shouldn't lie to him."

After a moment of quiet, Usagi-san said, quite gently: "What will you do if you tell him, and he decides not to be your friend?"

Which, Misaki supposed, was the dilemma he'd been chasing 'round his head since Toudou had asked him about Usagi-san. "I don't know," he said. "I mean—I guess—" He didn't have an answer for that. If Toudou reacted negatively, then that would be that. There was no magical fix-all for any kind of relationship. It would just mean that Misaki had driven a knife between them without any way of retracting it.

"Would it be worth it?" Usagi-san hadn't sounded so serious since—well, since Misaki couldn't even remember! "It's your choice, Misaki. Don't feel like you have to tell anyone."

"Oh, what the hell! You got all mopey last night because you thought I didn't want anyone to know about us!"

"Who, me?" Usagi-san laughed. "You must be confused."

Asshole, asshole, ASSHOLE!"Yes, you!"

Usagi-san, still chuckling, snubbed out his cigarette and then reached over to pat Misaki's head. "As I told you, the choice is yours. That you're even considering it makes me happier than you could possibly imagine." The look on his face, the carefree crinkling of his eyes, the soft upward lilt of his mouth, spoke volumes of just how true that was.

His face returning to that cursed red, Misaki ducked his head and stared at his hands, relaxing them. Usagi-san was right. It was his choice, entirely so, and he couldn't make it based on what anyone else thought. If he decided telling Toudou was the right thing to do, then he'd do it.

That he'd already made the decision, perhaps even before he'd mentioned it to Usagi-san, even before he'd quite realized it himself, occurred to him then, and an even feeling of peace relaxed his tangled stomach.

"Yeah," he said. "Thanks, Usagi-san."

The next morning was terribly rushed. Misaki needed to get back home, of course, but starting at about nine, Usagi-san's cell phone had rang off the hook with frantic calls from Aikawa, demanding that he return. She was polite about it, especially since it was Misaki who had to relay the messages, but he could tell she was at the end of her rope.

"The production team is panicking," she told him. "They need to do their job, but without sensei here, there's nothing they can do!"

"I'm getting him up," Misaki promised. "He's on his way! Two more hours, tops, and he'll be there!"

If only it was that simple.

Waking Usagi-san up was the first step. The man could sleep through any explosion, and while Misaki had been on the phone with Aikawa, he'd watched the wayward author slowly but surely tangle himself deeper into the sheets, as though to say, no, you cannot make me get up.

"Usagi-san, come on!" Misaki pleaded, running around and shoving all their things back into their bags. He was wearing the brand new clothes Usagi-san bought him and feeling rather strange about how obviously high-end they were. "We have to go!"

"Five more minutes," he grumbled.

"You said that five minutes ago!"

It was another fifteen minutes before Misaki managed to shove the man out of bed – literally. He'd gotten so sick of the grumbled whining that he'd just grabbed the sheets and forced Usagi-san off the bed and onto the floor with a rather satisfying thump.

"This was supposed to be relaxing," Misaki muttered as Usagi-san shoved clothes on and waited for the coffee marker to finish brewing. "This is not relaxing."

In the time it took for Usagi-san to chug a helping of coffee and smoke through the first cigarette of the day, Misaki managed to get all of their bags, neatly packed, lined up by the door. Sure, there were only two of them, plus his school bag, but with all the crap Usagi-san had somehow managed to shove into them, it was more of a task than he'd expected.

"All right, all right," Usagi-san said at last. "We're good. Let's go." He grabbed both of the bags, leaving Misaki to hold only his school bag, and opened the door. But Misaki only made it two steps into the hall before he heard the telltale thump of the bags hitting the ground. Usagi-san grabbed him and whirled him around, pushing Misaki against the closed door of their suite and kissing him soundly.

Misaki didn't even have the time to put up the pretense of a fighting attitude, because just as quickly as it had happened, Usagi-san leaned back, looking smug as hell. "One for the road," he explained.

The cheeky bastard.

Rather than immediately leveling him with a dark look and really letting him have it, though, Misaki froze. Just over Usagi-san's shoulder, right outside the room across the hall, was a girl about Misaki's age, her cell phone in one hand while the other was pressed tight over her mouth.

Usagi-san, catching Misaki's expression, turned and looked over his shoulder. After a moment, he offered the girl a surprisingly pleasant, "Good morning."

The girl turned tail and fled back into her hotel room.

"Oh my god," Misaki moaned. "Why do you do things like this?" He covered his face and breathed deeply.

"I couldn't say." Did he have to sound so cheerful? Usagi-san patted Misaki on the head, stooped down to grab the bags again, and walked down the hall, a spring in his step.

Mortified and quite certain his face would never lose its flush again, Misaki hurried after him.