APRIL FOOLS! This update came one day earlier than anticipated-April 1st (I keep a tentative schedule on my profile page). I don't know at whose expense the joke is but let's have a laugh anyways.

A/N: I present to you the long anticipated installment to Business Better Left Unfinished.

(It's not over, though! One more chapter and an epilogue to come.)

Semi-important-ish author's note will follow this chapter, as well. It has a bit more of a discussion of this chapter's content, but I don't want to give any spoilers away before it even starts!

It's not as long as the prior few chapters, but I did not want to ruin it by trying to reach some sort of word limit. I said what I thought needed said. I hope that's okay! It could be longer, but I think that would take away from the story, honestly.

Also! I have in the works a new Ghost Hunt multi-chapter fan fiction. Drama, supernatural, and romance. It is tentatively titled The Importance of Crayons (though I am pretty sure that's going to stick because I kind of love it). If anyone can guess what it's about just from the title I will literally pay you all the money in my bank account. (Okay not literally, but whateverrrrrrr) I really hope to get a start on it; I'm in the pre-planning stage. I am additionally considering a one-shot in between long-ass stories, so stay tuned for that as well!

Also also. This is me not shamelessly plugging my one-shots.

I truly hope you enjoy it, friends.

December 25th, 12:01 AM

(Primary Language: Japanese)

As soon as Oliver felt the door behind him soundlessly settle into its latch, he leaned his back against it and let out a shaky breath he did not know he was holding. The room was silent, but he was certain Mai could hear the erratic pounding in his chest. She stood mere inches away from him. He could hear her shallow breath, and even in the darkness, he could see her slender fingers tracing on her arm the ghost of his touch from just moments before.

Did he actually make her breathless?

Despite his uneasiness, a rush of satisfaction coursed through his veins.

Oliver was not an impulsive person. He prided himself on the way he kept his thoughts and emotional state under firm control.

But Mai had utterly demolished the stronghold confining the feelings he had tried so hard to circumvent to prevent a breakdown into lunacy, and now all at once they careened through his brain.

The feeling of her skin under his fingertips was undeniably addicting, and a part of him with which he was unfamiliar craved more.

The words of her letter still echoed in his mind.

He felt decidedly overstimulated.

There were a thousand things that he needed to convey to her, and there was likely twice as many ways to say them. But in his haze, before he could reason with himself, he opted for the most complicated method of all.

And it did not require words.

He impelled himself from the door with great poise, tightening the already narrow gap between them. Her breath hitched in her throat apprehensively, but she did not move. Her letter slipped down to their feet, almost all but forgotten. He gazed down at her with jaded eyes and clasped her left hand gently, lacing his fingers in the spaces between hers. She squeezed firmly for a moment, as if she wanted to make sure he would not let go this time. He squeezed back, and he felt her relax a bit, leaning in towards his chest.

With his other hand his fingers once again drifted up her arm, continuing past her shoulder to affectionately tuck a small strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear. He grazed his fingertips along the line of her jaw, stopping below her chin to judiciously tilt her head upwards to look at him. Her eyes fluttered shut. In the soft light spilling from the window, he noticed a constellation of muted freckles dusting her cheek bones. He wondered how he never noticed them before.

He shifted his hand to cradle the back of her neck, his touch burning her to the core in its wake. He paused for scarcely a moment before leaning in and coaxing her head to the side, his face mere millimeters from hers.

So close she could no longer distinguish if it was his warm breath or his lips electrifying the corner of her mouth…

And then a warm pressure overwhelmed her lips, and it became very evident that it was not his breath.

They stood suspended in that moment, static lips locked together and their hearts sinking in the weight of all they needed to understand.

But the questions could wait.

Oliver pulled her face closer to his with the hand on her neck, pressing their lips together harder. He pulled away just slightly when he felt her squeeze his hand tighter, worried she might be having second thoughts. After a moment of ragged breathing, she dropped his hand and threw her arms around his neck with such force Oliver rammed his back against the door, desperate to memorize the taste of his lips against hers.

He was surprised by her urgency, but he responded in full as best as he could. He snaked his free arm around her waist and knotted his hand in the fabric of her white nightshirt, tugging her body as close to him as possible. She tightened her grip around his neck, hovering on her tiptoes. She drew back just enough to tilt her head to the other side and deepen the kiss, but he did not seem to anticipate the move and their noses collided gently. Mai let out a breathy laugh as she caught a small glimpse of his face, his eyes wound with embarrassment. She kissed him tenderly a few times to reassure him it was okay, setting a comfortable rhythm.

While returning her kisses, he pushed from the door and moved forward clumsily, urging her to walk backwards towards her unmade bed. Her arms slipped from his neck and traveled down his chest. He shivered, resting his hands gently on her hips, just barely slipping his fingers under the hem of her shirt to limn gentle, nonsensical patterns on her skin. She let her hands wander his clad torso as his touch cast waves of exhilaration rippling through her body. She felt the back of her legs brush against her bed sheets.

He slid his hands up the curve of her back, pushing her shirt up a bit. He pulled her near again, opening his mouth in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Their lips awkwardly mashed together. They pulled back to try again, but gnashed their teeth together maladroitly. Mai retreated, body quivering from noiseless giggles. Oliver looked away self-consciously, his hands dipping a bit. She reached up and put a hand on either side of his face, encouraging him to look at her. She could almost swear she felt his face flame beneath her palms.

'It's okay,' she mouthed wordlessly. He exhaled, clearly annoyed with himself. She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs, then gently pried his hands away from her and sat on the edge of the bed. She motioned for him to join her. He situated himself next to her, tilted towards her and supporting himself with a hand laid just behind her back. She leaned in to resume the kiss, but Oliver withdrew subtly. Mai frowned, opening her mouth to question him, but he interrupted.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," he confessed, face clearly flushed now.

"What do you mean?" she questioned. "Have you never…" she trailed off, gesturing back and forth between their lips awkwardly. He shook his head. "Wait, really?" He shook his head again, running a hand through his hair. "Naru…" she whispered, placing a hand gently on his knee. "Relax, okay…?" He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Okay…?" she repeated. He swallowed harshly and nodded almost imperceptibly. She inched closer to him and leaned in, tilting her head pointedly to tip him off. He bowed his head to meet her, recapturing her lips in a soft kiss. She leaned in even further, slinking a hand to the back of his neck to pull him closer to her this time. She used her own soft lips to wrest his open, continuing slowly to keep him comfortable.

Evidently, her approach succeeded, because like the Naru she knew, he appropriated control to test his own insights. He trapped her bottom lip between his lightly and gave it an affectionate tug before prodding it gently with the tip of his tongue. She gasped sharply and he began to retreat thinking he had done something wrong, but she slid a hand into his tussled dark hair, threading her fingers through the locks she had dreamt of dandling for months. She lured him back and pushed her mouth against his, teasing her tongue against the crease of his lips.

He parted his demurely, her tongue passing over his lips and teeth with ease, forcing his mouth even wider. Despite his initial apprehension, he nudged her tongue inquisitively with his own. A peculiar warmth flittered in his stomach. The sensation of her exploring his mouth was startlingly vitalizing, and he felt his strength of mind ebbing away as he leaned over her, shuffling her backwards on the sheets.

He was on top of her now, one leg between hers and supporting himself with his forearm beside her head, resting on a pillow. He wanted—he needed—to immortalize the taste of her, the rush of her hot breath against his skin. He finally relinquished her mouth, both of them thirsting for air. After catching his second wind, he slowly dragged his nose up the side of her neck, planting a small kiss just below her ear at the corner of her jaw. A faint aroma of a sweet-smelling blossom he could not quite identify hailed his senses. He would have to take care that in the future he had another opportunity to try and place it.

And perhaps another after that.

Research is important, after all.

He felt her shudder below him and swathe her arms around his sides, letting her hands roam without purpose until reaching the hem of his black shirt. He planted several kisses down to the base of her throat when a hand curiously found its way to the bare skin of his abdomen. As icy as her touch was, his skin prickled with fire.

Both burning and shivering, anxious and unafraid, confounded and enlightened, unsettled and exultant: his imprudent, clumsy secretary had transfigured him into a living, breathing paradox and he detested it.

But he loved her.

Barely a fingerbreadth away, he surveyed her face, stopping when their gazes crossed.

He was genuinely smiling.

Mai closed her eyes and wrapped an arm around his neck, urging him to rest his forehead against hers.

And in the silence they remained as they tried to figure out now where they should begin.

12:31 AM

(Primary Language: Japanese)

It was some time before either of them dared move, afraid to upset the waning stability (which was admittedly not very stable to begin with). He repositioned himself to her right, lying next to her on his back.

What the hell had he just done?

Oliver had never felt this way before, and he truthfully never thought he would. He had never desired intimacy before—emotional or physical. The concept had evaded him for almost two decades. But there he was, lying in bed beside a woman that was supposedly irate with him almost to the point of hatred.

And with her, he had just shared his first, fantastically clumsy moment of intimacy.

To make the situation worse, he felt like he was still in imminent danger of losing her.

He knew something needed done, but whatever it was eluded him.

He was keenly aware she was eyeing him, waiting for him to say something. Where was he supposed to begin? 'Where do all great solutions start?' he questioned oratorically. 'From analyzing the facts.' Of course. Start with the facts, with what you know, and experiment from there. Science.

What was the most substantiated fact in this case?

"I'm stupid," Oliver testified.

Silence.

Mai blinked a few times, sitting up a bit on her forearms to get a better look at his face, which was ardently staring at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry, what?" she sputtered.

"I'm stupid," he reemphasized. Hearing himself say it a second time was humiliating. She gawped vacantly.

"I still don't think I'm hearing you right," she insisted, turning her body on her side to face him and raising an eyebrow.

"Please don't ask me to say it again, Mai," Oliver requested, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You're stupid," she repeated candidly, using her fist to support her head. Oliver sighed huskily. Perhaps he needed a better foundation. He offered the next datum he could think of.

"I hurt you," he acknowledged, voice shaded with self-reproach. Her eyes widened briefly, taken aback by his brash concession. She glanced back at her letter, at rest on the floor where they had abandoned it in their passion. "Twice…"

"Twice?" she questioned, turning her attention back to him.

"The night before last," he explained, "And that day in the woods." He clarified. She said nothing and stared through the frosty glass of the window just above him. She could not seem to find her voice. He took advantage of the stillness to reassess. What he said was correct, but he was not telling her anything she did not already know. He'd merely reestablished the problem. He needed to figure out what she needed.

"You did hurt me," she affirmed finally, meeting his gaze. Her eyes lacked their usual spark; instead, they were clouded in heartache. "Is that all you came here to tell me?" she asked. He suspected that was a loaded question.

He shook his head at himself. He took a slow breath. "Can I…ask you a question?" He asked sincerely. He needed guidance. He needed this to be done right.

"Okay…" she nodded apprehensively.

"What do you need, Mai?" he asked forthrightly. Her breath caught in her throat.

"What?" she swallowed harshly. "What do you mean?"

"I want to know what you need. I want to make you feel better," he disclosed. "And I am not good at this. Please," he added. She looked away nervously to consider the question, absentmindedly picking at a few frays on her blankets.

"I need to understand why you snubbed me," she started. "Why did you ignore me, Naru…?" She queried softly.

"Because I did not know how to handle it," he admitted. "Mai, I'm really not good at this. This," he gestured around the space between them, "Is hard. You told me some very personal things, and when you conferred to me about Gene, I…" he trailed off. She held up a hand to stop him.

"It's okay, I understand…" she countered, not wanting to push him any farther into his growing anxiety. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you were inferior. You know you're not, right?" He remained silent. "Right?" she repeated. "Naru… I need to know you understand that," she appended in reference to his original question.

After a few moments, he responded in a low voice.

"That's not always something I understand, no," he confessed. Her face dropped. "I've never been good at maintaining personal connections, Mai. Not like Gene. The idea of starting something serious with someone when Gene is a dynamic is discouraging. In the end, everyone preferred Gene because of his annoying, sociable personality. I'm used to it. But the idea of being rejected by someone I—" he cut himself off to redirect his thoughts. "—someone I actually care about in favor of Gene was not something I was prepared to deal with." He felt Mai slip a hand over his lying flat on the bed. "I don't like attention. And I have found expressing my emotional state is an attention magnet. I can barely...handle my feelings on my own, and the idea of handling while others are watching it is revolting," he finished, closing his fingers around hers.

A heavy silence settled over the room. She noticed how physically uncomfortable he looked after confessing something so personal, like he might be sick.

"That must have been hard for you to say. Thank you, Naru," she acknowledged, hoping to soothe his trepidation. She edged closer to him and withdrew her hand from his to drape her arm across his chest, snuggling up close. He turned to glance at her, eyes full of unspoken gratitude.

"I need you to understand that I don't love Gene, Naru," she whispered, not breaking eye contact. "I never did."

He blinked. "Okay," he replied. She narrowed her eyes and lifted a brow, confused.

"Okay?" she repeated.

"Okay," he assured. "I believe you." Nostalgia pricked at her very nerve. He had said those words to her during her cases at SPR on more than one occasion, and they meant a lot to her. "You explained it very thoroughly in your letter…" he mused. A sudden glint of realization dashed through his eyes. He knew what to do next. "I'm sorry," he apologized. She blinked. "I'm sorry I did not read your letters sooner. That was very rude of me." She smiled faintly. Success. He needed to keep going. "I'm sorry that I ignored you and made you feel like I was angry at you. I wasn't," he promised. "I was mad at myself. And maybe at Gene…" He added. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"Thank you, Naru…" Mai replied, her eyes glistening in the faint light from the window. He tilted his head, confused.

"Why are you crying?" he quizzed, brushing her tears instinctively with his thumb. He let his hand linger on her face, cupping her cheek affectionately.

"It's not a bad thing, I promise," she answered. "I've just been waiting to hear that for a long time now…" she placed a hand on his, committing to memory the subtle callous of his knuckles. She still had the familiar dull ache in her chest, but it did not hurt so bad now. "Can I ask you a question now?" she probed. He nodded. "What do you need?"

Without hesitation, he replied, "I need you not to hate me." She giggled and nestled her head on his shoulder. Her heart was the lightest it had felt in months.

"I don't hate you," she affirmed. "In fact, I forgive you," she pledged. He smirked subtly, closing his eyes. She sensed his muscles, at long last, relax. "I think there are still a few things we need to talk about…"

"Mmm," he acknowledge, a low hum in his throat. "But that can wait…" His voice leached lethargy.

"I suppose it can," she agreed. "You should go to bed Naru. You look exhausted…"

But he did not hear her.

He exhaled noiselessly, already lost in richly deserved sleep.

8:03 AM

(Primary Language: Japanese)

Even though they had fallen asleep together, Mai still found herself surprised to wake up snuggled up to Naru's sleeping form.

Thank God it had not been one of her dreams.

At some point during the very early morning, Mai had rolled onto her side and pressed her back against Naru's chest. One of his arms naturally draped over her the curve of her waist and the other was safely tucked under her neck, spooning her close. His measured, steady breathing tickled the back of her neck. She could hear faintly in the distance the sound of people stirring and she knew she too would soon have to rouse, but she was determined to stay in that position for as long as she could.

She closed her eyes pensively to reflect on the events that passed just after midnight. She had already been in bed for a solid hour before someone inconsideratey knocked on her door. She was annoyed to be disturbed out of her sleep, but when she saw it was Naru, her stomach twisted in uncomfortable knots that made her forget about being asleep in the first place. She was still very cross with him and had no desire to see—let alone speak—with him, especially when he started the conversation out with 'you think I'm attractive.' She would have called him a narcissist if it wasn't true.

Damn him.

What proceeded to transpire was not anything like what she expected, but she could not say she had any qualms. Kissing Naru was pure rapture, and she did not care how sappy it was to say. She wanted to do it again, to feel wrapped in his very essence.

Not to mention his clumsiness was extremely endearing…and also a bit satisfying. Finally, she could best him at something. Not to say that he was bad—because he wasn't!—but she clearly had some convoluted upper hand; she hadn't any experience, either. Sure she'd had her crushes in school, but they never came to fruition. And then along came Naru and she lost interest in school boys all together. She imagined if either of them were to have more experience, it would be him because of his unremitting good looks, but apparently she was wrong.

She inferred that she was just more comfortable with herself in that regard, which allowed her to naturally lead.

She couldn't wait to teach him more…

She shook her head, clearing her devious thoughts. They were regrettably replaced by undesirable questions. She left for Japan tomorrow evening; what were they going to do? Would they date? Would one of them move? Would they just forget this ever happened and move on?

The last thought sunk like a stone in her chest. She really hoped not. She knew they needed to talk about this, and until they did, it was going to raze her psyche.

She felt a stirring from behind, and his strong arms squeezed her fleetingly.

"G'morning…" he murmured groggily. She could not help but titter a bit as he planted a gentle kiss on the back of her neck.

"Morning…" she replied.

"Ineedjutomove," he slurred tiredly. She sat up just a bit, unable to decipher what he'd just said.

"What?"

"Please move," he iterated. She slid away from him quickly, heart now racing nervously. He retracted the arm underneath her immediately, rubbing and bending it with a pained expression. "My arm was asleep…" he explained after some feeling returned. He laid on his back, offering her a new position to draw close. She sighed in relief and obliged immediately, settling into the crook of his shoulder.

"Happy Christmas…" Mai snickered. He smirked and let out a breathy laugh.

"Happy Christmas, indeed…" he responded.

"How did you sleep…?" she questioned.

"Remarkably well," he replied. "For once."

They laid together in silence, and just as Mai was about to broach the subject of her leaving, a knock sounded on the door.

"HAPPY CHRISTMAS, MAI!"

It was Bou-san.

Of course it was.

Mai immediately shot up, mortified. What was he going to think when he saw Naru leaving her bedroom?

"Maiiiii?" Bou-san crooned.

"Shit," Mai muttered, as Naru sat up on his arm. She covered her face, which unsurprisingly had already turned an alarming shade of red. He knocked again, only louder. Mai shrank in on herself, trying to become as small as possible. Naru cleared his throat softly, then edged his way off the bed. Mai looked up at him, face still flaming.

"Naru?" she questioned. "Don't go out—" she paused as his hand grasped the door knob.

"I see no reason to be ashamed. We did nothing wrong," he reasoned before opening the door arrogantly. He came face-to-face with Bou-san, whose fist was raised mid-knock. He gaped at the unexpected figure in the threshold.

"Naru?" he blinked.

"Good morning," he greeted inexpressively. How was he so calm?!

"Do I have the wrong room…?" he pondered, looking over Naru's shoulder to find Mai writhing on her bed, trying to crawl under her sheets.

"No, you are correct," he answered. Bou-san looked him head to toe, noticing he was still wearing the same clothes from the night before. He was about to raise objections when Naru interrupted him, walking forward. "If you excuse me," he said nonchalantly. "Happy Christmas," he added mordantly, ambling away gracefully.

Bou-san leaned against the doorway, staring at the lump of sheets that was Mai.

"So you made up, then?"

3:21 PM

The group had no particular plans for the holiday itself, so they spent a great deal of time sitting around chatting and over stuffing their bellies with Luella's spoils.

Mai had made Bou-san promise not to tell anyone about their encounter earlier that morning. He reluctantly agreed, and she could tell it took every ounce of his self-control not to burst at the seams. He became increasingly more antsy throughout the day. He wasn't even trying to be subtle.

But even if no one noticed Bou-san's behavior was more erratic than usual, everyone noticed the change in Oliver's demeanor. He was not more talkative than his normal self, but when he did offer conversation it sounded meaningful and involved rather than like an obligation. What's more, it no longer felt like a haze of nihilism, one that threatened to poison anyone who dared get too close, saturated the air around him. But perhaps the most scandalous of all was his sudden willingness to overtly sit next to Mai.

Mai knew the hush would come to an end eventually, but for now, until they figured this out, she was perfectly content with sitting innocuously under the prying eyes of her friends. She may have even gone as far to hold his hand, but she had the sneaking suspicion that Naru was not yet comfortable with blatant public displays of affection. She was perfectly okay with that though because he seated himself so close to her that there was no discernable gap between their figures, which in and of itself spoke volumes to her.

6:46 PM

He did not mind at first, but Oliver eventually grew weary of his mother's crafty smiles. He knew what they meant. There was a high probability she would corner him to take the Mickey out of him the first chance she got and there was nothing he could do about it but accept his fate.

She undoubtedly identified that something had changed, and judging by her comportment she knew exactly what this something was.

It was a small price to pay, he decided, because he felt more contented than he had in months.

Knowing she did not hate him—and somehow forgave him for his idiocy—gave him astonishing peace of mind and simplified the process of recognizing he did, in fact, love Mai. Perhaps that feeling could turn into something productive after all. It would still take time to sooth the burn his jealousy of Gene left behind, but he would try and subdue it in order to give her the devotion she deserved.

He'd enjoyed kissing her more than he anticipated. He had no prior experience from which to draw and had wrongly assumed the act was entirely overrated. It was very pleasing, but it felt so personal he could not begin to imagine why people insisted on necking passionately in public. It was an experience he did not wish to share with anyone else.

But definitely something he wanted to experience again.

He did not think he was better—not yet anyways—but at any rate he felt well on the mend. There were still a number of things he did not understand nor feel entirely comfortable with, but conceivably those would come with time.

Not everything had to make sense yet, he rationalized.

Additional A/N:

Fun fact! This fan fiction was actually intended to be a really smutty one-shot, but it very obviously and very quickly took off in another direction (30,000 words later...). I am happy with the result, for the most part, and I am honestly delighted so many people have enjoyed it.

That being said, I am sure some people are disappointed by the lack of sex, for which I do apologize. Perhaps I will write a lovely little smut one of these days.

It just felt way too soon for anything overly sexual to occur, especially considering Naru's character development in this. I wanted to make it as real and believable as possible, so awkward, teeth-gnashing make out's and cuddles it was. It's not steamy, but I think it is sincere.

I also did not want to jeopardize the T rating.

Hopefully that tickled your fancy, though!