DISCLAIMER: SKIP BEAT! and its associated characters are the creations of Yoshiki Nakamura. This author claims no ownership of Skip Beat or any of its characters. All other rights reserved.

Word: The word-prompt for this one-shot is 'Flaw.' This would take place sometime after Route (or perhaps during a break in Route's shooting?), during awards season. This is inspired by the Skip Beat 20th Anniversary cover where Kyoko and Ren are pictured in evening attire (I personally think of this red dress as Kyoko's Pretty Woman gown, after the gown Julia Roberts' character wears to the opera in the movie of the same name).

One for the Gods

"Kyoko-chan, are you ready?" The familiar voice came from somewhere behind her; she looked out to see Yashiro waiting by the limousine behind the Darumaya. She knew he would be out there, too. They were on their way to the Television Drama Academy Awards—Dark Moon was up for several accolades, and Best Newcomer and Best Actor were among them. Lory had asked her to accompany Ren—and though she'd protested that she was far too plain to accompany him on the red carpet, she'd ultimately agreed as soon as she'd seen the Shachou raise an eyebrow.

The man simply knew too much.

She hesitated at the doorway. She'd been dressed up before, but never like this. Sure, Kijima-san had arranged a makeover for her, but that had been a mere dress. This was a gown. A beautiful gown. With a train! With shiny jewels in her hair!

"Kyoko?" Yashiro called.

Kyoko gulped. She felt…shy. Shy like a girl about to make a confession—though of course, she'd already done that. She hadn't felt shy in a long time—at least not about clothes, that is. Certainly not since Setsu. But Ten had styled her herself, and she barely recognized her reflection in the mirror when the stylist was done. She was dressed in a red satin gown which revealed her ivory shoulders and accented her slender neck before plunging down into draping that only accented her cleavage. Her hair was coiffed in an up-do and accented with shiny geegaws and whatsits. She looked older like this, more mature, more glamorous.

Control yourself, she thought. She might have had more control over wild horses—her heart was beating out of control. Control yourself, this is just another job, just another appearance, Kyoko, everything will be fine.

It was a mantra. She'd been repeating it to herself all day.

"I'm here," she said. She forced herself to step out from the doorway and onto concrete of the narrow alleyway, holding the train of her dress up and off the ground.

He was standing right outside. She'd tried to prepare herself for it, but when she looked up and into his eyes, it was not, in fact, fine.

He was smiling. He was smiling that smile. That heavenly smile, the one that purified all of her grudges into nothingness. He was standing dressed in a sharply tailored tuxedo, black tie tied precisely around his neck, holding out a hand for her to take. She couldn't see anything but him, really, though she vaguely registered the compliments Yashiro was giving her in the background. She could smell him—whatever expensive cologne had commissioned just for him, apparently, and the warmth of his skin right underneath.

Unthinking, her cold hand fell into his warm dry one. She shivered as his long fingers closed around hers, so gentle and yet so possessive. She felt the contact magnify him in her consciousness, concentrating all of her senses right where the pads of her fingers fit into his palm.

"Shall we?" he asked. His voice was as deep and quiet as ever.

"Yes," she managed. They made their way over to the limousine, where he held open the door for her as she scooted in. With some surprise, she saw him wave goodbye to Yashiro.

"Yashiro-san will be following in the LME car," Ren said. "He won't be walking the red carpet with us."

"Oh," she said, aware of how alone they were, especially with the barrier up between themselves and the driver. She supposed it was Ruto.

The limo began driving

"You look…like a gorgeous star, Tsuruga-san," she said. She felt self-conscious. Though she knew Ten had transformed her, she couldn't possibly be on his level. She'd take everything she'd learned. She'd take Setsu's attitude, and Natsu's walk, and…and…

"You look perfect, Kyoko-chan," he said.

She breathed in sharply at the use of her name. All of a sudden, he seemed too close. Since that day on the elevator, he'd been careful around her—always nearby, but never touching. Now was no different except—

—except she made the mistake, again, of looking into his eyes.

It was the Emperor who greeted her this time, smile-less and hungry. A hand came up to her face but only grazed the lightest of touches along a stray hair, caressing it along her chin.

"Too perfect," he said again. And then a hand was behind her neck, unclasping the choker Ten had insisted on her wearing. It fell, unheeded, onto her lap. She stood still in shock as he moved closer to her—felt her heartbeat raise to a crescendo as his lips descended on her neck. She gasped and then moaned, all quite involuntarily, as she felt his tongue and then his teeth nipping at her in reminiscence of the way she'd done to him in that hotel room. He was marking her and claiming her, though he was far gentler than she had been—more precise, more delicate.

When he parted from her, she almost whimpered.

With a quiet smile on his lips, he took up the choker again, clasped it onto her neck, and then looked to admire his handiwork.

She took a hand up to her neck, worrying the spot where she was sure a red mark had formed. "Don't worry," he told her. "The choker covers it." Whispering, he descended close to her ear again. "No one but you and me will know."

"Tsuruga-san…"

All of a sudden, he looked nervous. Had he overstepped his bounds? He'd overstepped, he was sure, and now she'd run away— "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have—"

"Tsuruga-san." She looked back up at him, her blush deepening. "It—it's OK," she said. "I…I didn't mi-min-mind…"

He looked up at her, surprised, and then she was blinded all over again by the radiance of his smile.

"They say the gods abhor perfection," he said. "And you were too perfect."

"Oh!" she said. "Like sakakibashira at Yomeimon Gate!" He nodded. The gate had been built with one pillar intentionally imperfect to ward off evil.

His smile faded as he looked at her sheepishly. He knew as well as she did that the premise was thin, at best. But her hand was on the seat and his hand inched towards it, and when they touched, she didn't pull away.

He held his breath as he intertwined his fingers in hers. She was looking away as he found himself grinning. They were ignoring their own agreement, he knew. They weren't a couple, no, but he couldn't help himself. All it would take was a single word from her, and he would withdraw back to the 'friend' that he'd been these past few months.

But she didn't say anything, and she didn't pull away. He was afraid he'd reveal how much she affected him. His pulse was ringing in his ears while they kept a conspicuously casual flow of conversation ongoing.

By the time the limo pulled up to the carpet, they'd descended into comfortable conversation—though he hadn't let go of her hand. And as the crowd roared, he exited first and offered an arm to her.

She held onto it all the way into the building.

=.=.=.=.=

Author's Note: Sooooooooo….it's officially been a year since I started putting fic out into the world! August 10, 2021, I published "Kissing in the Rain." I thought I should upload something to celebrate and as DoK 26 is nowhere near ready, I did this quick one-shot. According to the statistics tool, I've published over 330,000 words. If you add things I've drafted but not yet put out here, I think that number goes up past 400,000! Crazy!

Thank you so much for your support this past year.