Kyouraku wasn't sure how long he basked in the exquisite pleasure of sitting wrapped up in his Nanao-chan's company. Regardless of how long, he was quickly becoming addicted to this feeling: her hair against his cheek, her warmth in his arms, her fingers loosely entwined through his, the smell of ink and lavender, her skin under his fingertips, her voice calm and light. Everything about it was addicting.

Their conversation had flowed steadily and softly, with occasional bouts of laughter. His face was buried in her hair, chuckling at the latest SWA antics when he felt Nanao turn her head into his neck. The next thing he knew, his whole world shrunk down to Nanao as she turned her head to laugh into his neck. He was stunned. Everything about their time on his porch had surprised him. She continued to surprise him. He knew nothing but the feeling of her lips on his neck as she nuzzled into him. He had to stifle a gasp when he felt the faintest kisses on his neck. Her lips were soft against his skin, lighting a fire where they pressed against the sensitive skin. Her fingers tightened around his, and he had to resist fully acknowledging the moment's intimacy. He was addicted.

"Nanao-chan." He pulled away, and she craned her neck to look at him. Once again, he couldn't help himself. He brought the hand that was not entwined with hers out of their cocoon of warmth to stroke her cheek. Leaning forward, he nuzzled her cheek before pressing his lips to the soft flesh. He felt her shiver in his arms.

"It's getting cold." He didn't want to break this spell, but they had to go inside eventually. "We should go inside."

She tensed and pulled away.

"No. Please, don't." He tightened his arms and pulled her back towards him. "I just meant that it's getting chilly, and we should move inside."

"Oh."

"Unless my sweetest Nanao-chan has other ideas about keeping me warm?" He cooed and tried to defuse the sudden tension that had settled over them. He could see the doubts begin to cloud her mind. He could act on his hope. He would act on his hope. He stood and waited for her to follow.

"Come inside, sweetheart. Let's sit." He held a handout.

She grasped his hand and allowed him to pull her up before making her way inside the sitting room. He motioned her to sit while he closed the doors, and his heart clenched when he turned back to face her. Her demeanor changed as she stood, turned away from him, and wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

No. Not yet. He wasn't ready to part ways; it would be hard enough as it was. Without thought, he stood behind her and gently raised his hands to grasp her arms.

"Nanao-chan, I didn't say you had to leave. You can stay. Please stay."

She turned around. "Taicho." Her voice was tight and distressed. Her eyes, which had looked at him with such gentleness only moments before, were now guarded.

"Nanao-chan, I — "

What were they doing? Maybe this had been a mistake. A terrible mistake. He had let his emotions cloud his judgment. Had the morning's terror clouded his judgment and fueled his desire to have Nanao near? He had enjoyed and soaked in every moment with her that evening; however, he was well aware that there would be a price to pay tomorrow, even as things stand right now.

Looking at her, he couldn't help but wonder if the price was worth it. What if they lost everything they had so carefully built for a single night of respite? However, try as he might to rationalize his way through the night, the lingering tightness in his chest pushed him forward; he wasn't willing to give up those moments of softness just yet.

Braving his anxieties, he spoke with as much calm as he could muster. "We don't have to cross any more lines, but we can spend more time together. I want to spend more time together." He held his breath, waiting for her response.

She watched him with measured eyes. As earlier, he watched her again run through her careful calculations — considering and weighing options and consequences.

She sighed, and he held his breath.

She'd made up her mind. "Alright." Again, she had weighed her options in his favor — their favor.

He reached for her. She came readily, wrapping her arms around his neck like she'd done earlier in the kitchen. He couldn't help but remember holding her in his arms by the morgue this morning. Dead on arrival. The image of a body covered by a sheet suddenly flashed before his eyes. He buried his head into her neck, held her tighter, and nodded.

Kyouraku pulled back from the warmth of her neck, and she sat, cautiously looking him over. His eyes were troubled.

He was scared.

She was terrified.

However, regardless of tomorrow's outcome, she reassured herself that whatever was happening tonight was worth it. They owed this to themselves. After all, today had proved that anything could happen to either of them — at any moment. He cupped her face and slowly brought his forehead to rest against hers. He took a deep breath, and she couldn't help but mimic — summer, sake, and old books. She had long associated him with these smells — smells that brought her more comfort than any other candle or scent she'd tried.

Pulling away, he pressed his lips against her forehead, and she fought back a shiver.

"Alright." He kissed her forehead before pulling back, "Come, today has been too eventful. I would be so lucky to have my Nanao-chan nap beside me."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't hold back a smile. "We'll see about that."

"I'm very tenacious."

He was.

"I am well aware." She faked and glared at him. "But so am I."

She was.

He laughed. "I am very well aware." Taking her hand, he guided her to sit on the floor's cushions. "You're tired."

She refused to give in to her exhaustion now, not when she'd just agreed to continue their truce — not when it would surely cost her so much. "I want to stay awake." She tightened her hands around his.

"Here," he said. "You can rest your head." He motioned towards his lap. She eyed him carefully.

Resting on his lap was an intimacy she was not expecting. Sitting with him was one thing; however, laying her head on his lap, allowing herself the pleasure of relaxing so thoroughly against him, was such an exquisite proposition. If she were honest, she had imagined it once or twice. It was a particularly haunting thought during the spring when she would catch him napping in the cherry blossoms groves. When she was exhausted, usually during division review season, she wished to lay her head and nap under the trees with him. In her most salacious dreams, he would run his fingers through her hair as she slept. Perhaps today was the day.

Giving in to her desires would be yet another line crossed. She should refuse. Propriety demanded she refuse. However, his eyes held the promise of respite from the weight of the day's events.

Her will to deny herself — deny them — this simple pleasure was waning. If she were going to give them this night, she would do so entirely. After all, above all things, she despised regret. And, right now, in the peace of Kyouraku Taicho's presence, she couldn't bring herself to say she regretted her choice of pausing the charade they put on day after day.

Nodding and taking a steadying breath, she removed her hair clip and closed the distance between them, noting the surprise in his face as she slowly laid her head on his thighs.

His surprise was warranted. Regardless of her conviction, she was surprised by her actions. Once she had tentatively laid her head on his lap, his hand carefully tangled and ran to her hair.

She sighed at the touch and feel of his hand against her hair and reached for his free hand. She was grateful for this moment. She so rarely dared to give in to her desires. Where she got the courage for this was beyond herself. Maybe it was filling out those forms and wondering what their Fifth seat's husband would be going through.

The poor man. How would he overcome such a loss?

"Do you think he'll be okay?" She whispered.

"Who?"

"Yatsuneko-san's husband. Do you think he'll be okay?"

"No." He shook his head ruefully. "He won't be okay for a very long time."

She remained silent, only able to imagine the man's pain. She did not want to imagine the man's pain.

Kyouraku closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "I don't think I would be okay for a very long time."

If it was you.

It was best left unspoken.

He brought his hand to her cheek and stroked her cheekbone with this thumb. She closed her eyes and reacted in.

"The times when you are seriously injured and recovering the in Fourth are… difficult." She didn't know where this sudden honesty had come from. She anxiously ran her fingers over the back of the hand trapped between hers.

"It's okay, sweetheart. We don't have to talk about this." He stroked her hair in an attempt to ease her distress.

She was determined. He needed to know. "You need to know that I would be — I would —" be lost if I lost you. There would be no coming back from that level of honesty. It could not be spoken.

His thumb ran across her cheekbone, his eyes softening. "I know, darling." Of course, he knew.

This was once again veering into dangerous territory. She was clearly losing her bearings. However, the look on his face as she confessed what losing him would do to her was enough to convince her that crossing this line was okay. Perhaps crossing this line was necessary. How could they move forward from today's terror if they didn't acknowledge the truths that motivated their actions? It would only be a matter of time before something like this happened again, and next time, they might not be so lucky.

Again, with courage she didn't know she possessed, she brought the hand she held to her lips and kissed the back of it. His eyes shone with an emotion she could not dare to name. Not when this was so tenuous.

He smoothed back her hair. "I know," he whispered. His eyes were so soft, so filled with want and affection. No one had ever looked at her with such care. There was no doubt in her mind that he knew what his loss would do to her — how it would break her. Just as she knew her loss would hurt him. Yes, they would both survive. But they would be scarred for the rest of their long lives.

"Good." She tried her best to give him a stern look. He leaned forward again, burying his face in her neck, laughing.

"Don't laugh." She laughed along with him. "This is serious, Taicho." His stubbly cheeks ticked her neck, and she reflexively brought her hand to the back of his head. Giddy. She was giddy with laughter.

He pulled back and fell back onto the floor on his side, facing her. "I know, Nanao-chan. I know it is." His laughter died down. "Come here." He reached for her.

She was too far gone even to consider the implications of their actions. She laid down on her side, mirroring him. His hand released hers and came to cup her cheek, and her eyes fell closed at the feeling of his thumb softly caressing his cheek. She opened her eyes when she felt his lips on her cheek. He pulled back and looked her over, and something about the molten heat in his gaze had her melting and relaxing. Before she could process what was happening, his lips pressed another, softer kiss to her cheek. She turned her head and he pressed another kiss to her cheek, this time brushing the corner of her mouth.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself again melting in against the raw affection radiating from his eyes. Before she could even begin verbalizing her feelings, her hand was palming his cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut again when his lips gently brushed against hers. It was brief but held more promise than any of their other kisses. Unlike all one of their previous kisses, this kiss was soft and fueled by mutual affection and a conscious desire to be close.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, his breath tickling her lips.

She knew she should pull back. She knew this was yet another line that, once crossed, could not be uncrossed. Yet, she could not bring herself to care. Before thinking through any consequences, she leaned into his hand and pressed her lips to his. When they parted, they quickly fell back into another chaste kiss. This time, however, they allowed their lips to linger.

"Nanao-chan?" He murmured against her lips.

"Yes?" She whispered back, her lips brushing against his.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. His eyes were crinkling and dancing with mischief. "I believe this falls under Section A of the third betting pool. Who do you think won?"

She grinned back. "They never have to know."

He laughed and rolled onto his back, pulling her with him to rest on his chest. "You're right — we can't give them the satisfaction."

His laughter was infectious, and Nanao laughed along with him. He was overriding all her sense of self-preservation. His smile, the lines formed at the corner of his eyes, and his laughter reverberated through her chest. All the alarms that should have gone off in her brain were muted. All she could do was meld her reiatsu with his, inviting him in closer. She settled against him and couldn't hold back a content sigh when she sank into the feeling of their entwined souls—yet another line.

Always the early riser, Nanao woke before dawn feeling warm and secure. It only took her a moment to realize she was in Kyouraku Taicho's arms. She was wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, her head resting on his chest, his arm a comforting weight on her waist, holding her close, their legs entangled. Distantly, she noted that their reiatsus were still intimately interwoven.

They must have given in to sleep in the early morning hours. She wasn't sure when they'd fallen asleep. She fought off sleep for as long as possible, not wanting to waste their precious few hours together.

She wanted to run her fingers through his hair like she had just a few hours ago. She knew she shouldn't, but she was unable — unwilling? — to deny herself the final moments of bliss. Slowly, she reached up and ran her fingers through his loose hair. It was just as soft and silky in the light of the morning.

He stirred and nuzzled her hair, his arm tightening around her waist. She once again ran her fingers through his hair.

"Nanao-chan, five more minutes. It's too early." He rumbled deep in his chest.

Impossible man.

She chuckled. "You can sleep in — don't worry," she whispered, tracing a line from his hair to his jaw. Her fingers danced across his stubbly cheek as she did her best to memorize his face's sharp lines and slopes. She would allow herself this final pleasure. This would all be over the moment she walked out his door.

He opened a sleepy eye but remained in his position. He grasped the hand she had rested on his cheek and brought it to his lips. "Good morning, " he murmured, his voice gravely with sleep.

She smiled and continued to caress his cheek. "Good morning."

He shifted and, cupping her face, leaned down to press his lips against her forehead. She couldn't help but breathe deeply — sake and sunshine, books, and nature — she would never grow bored of his smell: it was comfort, it was safety, it was home.

"I should go." She whispered.

"Just a few more minutes." Her heart broke at his earnest request. He nuzzled his nose against hers. "Please?"

"Alright," she relented. "Just a few more minutes." A few minutes couldn't hurt, not when they would soon sever these tenuous ties.

He wrapped his arms tighter around her and brought her onto his chest, which rumbled under her ear when she snuggled into his chest.

Just a few minutes couldn't hurt.

She sighed and nuzzled his neck as his hand came up to run through her hair.

She was nearly asleep again when his voice broke through their cocoon. "Nanao-chan. We should talk about this."

Nanao felt a cold chill settle over her, his words like a bucket of icy cold water. She had been so relaxed resting in the warmth of his embrace, so warm and safe in the circle of his arms; all her senses focused on the steady thrum of his heart. The cold truth of reality began to set in as she sat up.

"We said—" She cleared her throat. "We said one night."

He sat up and met her gaze. She could see the protest swirling in his eyes. She knew what he wanted to say. He'd argue that this could work. They could divide their lives between home and work. That even if they were found out, they could fight the consequences. A part of herself was making the same argument. But there was no room for a relationship like that, not when their relationship was already as complicated as it was. Not when their boundaries were already fuzzy at the margins.

He opened his mouth, and she prepared herself for the onslaught of lies about what she wished for and regrets about what could be. He closed his mouth and seemed to deflate. "We said one night."

Nanao was torn between the safety of walking away and the desire to fight for this: fight for them."Yesterday was… tough. And we let our emotions get the better of us," she stuttered through the sentence. Damnit. It wasn't supposed to hurt this much.

"It was, but I don't regret this."

The soft conviction in his voice nearly broke through her defenses.

"I should go." She put on her glasses and stood as she gathered her hair into its neat updo.

She wanted to say that she wanted this to continue, to tell him this had been one of the best nights she'd had in ages, and to confess to him that his presence brought a sense of life into her that she did not know was missing.

She felt him embrace her from behind, his chest warm against her back. She felt her throat tighten at the idea that this could be it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear. The sadness in his voice nearly broke her conviction. She couldn't believe this was happening. She turned and wrapped her arms around him. How many times had she done this in the past 24 hours? Far more than she'd done in the past few years. It didn't matter; no amount of time in his arms was sufficient. Not anymore.

She nuzzled the crook of his neck. "Me too." She pulled away, and he couldn't help but lay a final kiss against her cheek next to the corner of her mouth.

"I'll see you later, Nanao-chan." He smiled at her.

"You better not be late, sir." She glared at him over her glasses and walked out the door.

She felt herself resenting the charades they played as she fought the threat of tears, her heart-shattering at the sound of the morning birds.