Points of Divergence: Episode 9: But a Dream

Shinji lay on his bedroll utterly exhausted but with no sign of sleep in sight.

It didn't help that he was lying next to Asuka. The reason he was worn out. The reason he couldn't sleep.

If you needed to understand Asuka, which he suspected he never would, the past week would likely make a good study.

Beautiful. Angry. Graceful. Violent. Inspiring and Terrifying.

Oh, and frustrating. Even when it was obviously her mistake, she insisted he was the one who messed up. He did that enough, he didn't need the blame for hers too. Not that that was anything new, he'd been blamed for other people's mistakes often enough. As far as he could tell, he was one of them.

One of the few achievements of the first few days had been Asuka insisting on wearing something other than the ill fitting uncomfortable outfits Miss Misato had gotten them. Unfortunately the only option he had were his school gym clothes, and Misato had put her foot down and insisted they matched. He was fairly certain that Asuka had gotten a size too small, and he'd been left with washing stinky clothing every day. Whatever she might say, the Great I don't sweat Asuka did, in fact, sweat.

Things had improved a little after their friends had come over. He was fairly sure that Toji and Kensuke had come over just to ogle Misato, Hikari had come to attempt to keep them in line and Ayanami had come for food. But they were at least notionally friends, which was perhaps an even stranger event than living with Asuka.

Ayanami had been precise. Every step in the perfect center. Always calm, even in the face of Asuka's outbursts that made him want to hide in his room. The one he grew up in. That might be sufficiently far away.

Asuka had been, well, Asuka. Loud. Complaining he was useless when he couldn't keep up. She was right of course. He was useless. But she had pushed him, sometimes literally, to be better. To try to keep up. Until he started to believe that maybe he could, even if she didn't.

He didn't know why Asuka had come back out to lie next to him. It was unthinkable that she might be drawn to him the way he seemed to be to her, she was the flame, he was the moth, expecting to be burned any moment, but unable to resist the lure.

He snorted softly at himself. When did he get so poetic? Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was Asuka.

He felt the sleeping mat shift as she rolled onto her side and instinctively mirrored the movement. Only to find that instead of the back of her head and her stunning hair that he expected to see, their noses were almost touching, she looked even more beautiful in her sleep, their lips were close enough he could almost kiss her.

"Mama," she whimpered.

For a moment he thought she had woken, but her eyes were tightly closed, her fists clenched against her chest and there was a tear running down her cheek. There was no way she would let him see that if she was awake. He should look away. He couldn't.

He did a really stupid thing, even for him. He reached up and very gently wiped the tear away.

Then he rolled to lay on his back, the smallest movement he could make so their faces weren't so close. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't let her know what he'd seen. He wasn't sure he could move any further without waking her this time. He would no doubt awaken in pain, but at least she wouldn't have to be alone with her nightmare as he always was.

That he was wrong once more was not a surprise.
That he was wrong about being woken up by Asuka hitting him was.

He opened his eyes.
He found himself staring at Asuka's face, which meant he was looking directly into her eyes when she opened them a few moments later.

The physical and audio impact arrived simultaneously.

"Pervert! Argh! What are you doing in my bed?!"

He backed off the edge of the bedroll as fast as possible.

It probably wasn't a good idea to point out that it was actually his bedroll they were on. As Asuka constantly reminded him he was, in fact, an idiot.