Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“There’s a reason I date geniuses, you know? I like to learn shit.”

“Hmm.” Light cleared his throat, bristling at being called a genius. Junpei wasn’t incorrect, per se; he was more well-read than most, and the breadth of his knowledge was triple that of most people his age. But Light heard the word wielded derisively as often as complimentarily. “And what is it you think you can learn from me?”

“All kinds of stuff,” said Junpei. “Art, science… Man, I remember when we were in the library, you had something to say about almost every book we found. It left an impression.”

“Ah.” Light tilted his head. He brought his coffee to his lips, hoping it didn’t come off as him covering his face with embarrassment. “I’m afraid what you were so impressed with was overcompensation. You took such courageous charge of solving the room, and I didn’t want to appear to you as useless. I was afraid it came off as rather obnoxious. I promise, I am not typically like that.”

Junpei chuckled in confusion. Even when soft and not fully sincere, his laughter was infectiously full and hearty. “Like what?”

“Like an arrogant bastard. Truthfully, I find monologuing about my interests distasteful. Why would one exposit on their knowledge unsolicited if not to make others feel inadequate?” Clover did it all the time with philosophy, to disarm those who made assumptions about her intelligence. Don’t you love the look on their faces when they realize a waitress with pink hair is smarter than them? As far as Light knew, she was eavesdropping as she waited tables, laughing to herself over his humility.

“Who said anything about monologuing?” said Junpei. “I ask questions. I have tons of questions.”

Naturally, Junpei was the type of student who preferred to take an active role in his education, rather than simply listening and absorbing information. Light quite liked a man of initiative. “Consider me curious then, Junpei. What questions do you have?”

“So many. Like, uh…” Junpei clicked his tongue in thought. “Well, here’s a simple one. What’s your passion? What did you study in college?”

“Those are two very different questions, you realize.” And Junpei certainly hadn’t needed to flatter him so to preface such a basic first date question, but Light supposed he shouldn’t complain. “I studied biorobotics in school. I’d been fascinated by the field ever since I received this –” He waved his left hand. “- advanced and experimental model of prosthetic. I wished to better understand how my own body worked, and I got that wish. But after four years it was apparent that a career in the sciences was not my calling.

“My passion is the act of creation, to speak generally. I’ve been performing music since we moved to America, but I was never content with it until I began composing my own pieces. The same goes for literature – I have always loved reading, but something seemed missing from my life until I began work on my novel.”

“You’re writing a novel?” Light could practically hear Junpei’s jaw drop. “That’s next level. What’s it about?”

No. No no no. Light was cringing over how pretentious he sounded already; the last thing he wanted to be was the man who droned on and on about his experimental post-post-modernist novel. “Ah-ah, my turn to ask questions now!” he said, panicked. “We want this to be a dialogue, don’t we?”

“Uh… okay, sure. Shoot.”

“What were you studying in college?”

“Oh!” Junpei’s voice cracked as he interjected. Light worried he’d committed a faux pas, asking a drop-out about college, but Junpei seemed to have other concerns. “I, uh, designed my own major, but it was p-pretty niche… not that interesting, either, so, uh…”

Junpei was quite bad at remaining mysterious, and his embarrassment immediately narrowed down Light’s predictions to a limited number. His first guess would be Gender Studies, although why an openly bisexual man would be ashamed of that was unclear. “You intrigue me, Junpei. If you would rather not tell me, would you at least satisfy my curiosity about your major’s general field?”

“E-economics…”

Ah. Cryptocurrency. Not something Light had pegged as particularly likely, but Junpei’s shame over that phase of his life was appropriate in that case. Light knew they weren’t quite at the stage of the relationship where teasing was acceptable, but he couldn’t help himself. “I admit, economic theory is a gap in my knowledge. If you wouldn’t mind explaining some basic concepts for me…”

“I don’t know, dude.”

Light grinned. “Come, edify me. Do it and you can help me set up the harp. I’ll tell you how it works – every string, every curve.” His word choice was intentionally suggestive, and he suspected it wasn’t Junpei’s thirst to learn that made him hesitantly agree. It was charming to hear Junpei sound a pretentious fool explaining blockchain technology. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing to act foolish in front of a potential romantic partner. Light decided he might someday give it a more honest try.

Chapter Text

Eric liked sitting in the bed of Carlos’s pickup truck. The thing was scuffed-up but sturdy, like it could take ten times the damage it had already been through. It would absolutely help a guy move his furniture. And even though Eric was vulnerable as ever sitting there, on a floor with no roof, he couldn’t help but feel protected. It was like an embrace from Carlos himself. And both of those things at the same time, well…

They sat on the edge with the tailgate open, their legs dangling over the side, with a blanket underneath them to keep Eric’s white pants from getting dirty. The morning was dewy and new. Eric could still see some stars as he looked up, though a few were blocked by Carlos’s ear and strands of golden hair. Carlos had his arm around him, a hand gently pressed against the side of Eric’s face as he rested his head on his shoulder. They were close enough for Carlos to whisper, “How are you feeling?”

“Scared as hell, obviously.” Eric swallowed. “What if this is all a trick? They want me to mess up so badly that they’ll finally have an excuse to fire me.”

Carlos sighed. “Companies don’t tend to give promotions to people they already intend to fire.”

“Hmm...” Eric hummed mindlessly. It still felt a bit like he was dreaming. Today was his first day in a managerial position at the ice cream shop, and it still felt a bit like he was dreaming. A higher paycheck, a little power, and no longing having to deal directly with customers – he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve any of it. He’d only been trying to emulate his boyfriend, who was so inspiringly dedicated to his work. Carlos put everything he was into being a firefighter, so Eric tried to put as much as he could into being a scooper. That mostly meant practicing calculating change at home and being more of a stickler about his coworkers’ hygiene, but his boss noticed, and corporate noticed, and the day after his boss announced she was leaving, he got the call that changed everything.

“Would it help if I came in to check on you during the day?” said Carlos. “I could pretend to be an obnoxious customer, ask to speak to the manager, you’d come out and give me a sign if things aren’t going well…”

“No, I think it’ll be okay once I’m actually in there.” Eric eyed the shop. It didn’t seem quite as intimidating in the liminal space of its empty parking lot an hour before opening, but he knew it would be a whole different beast with the lights on.

“You sure? I’d love a chance to show off my chops as Undertipping Yuppie #3.”

Eric laughed, remembering the hours Carlos had spent roleplaying customer scenarios with him at home. “I really couldn’t have done this without you.”

Carlos patted him on the cheek. “Don’t leave yourself out of the equation, there,” he said, before taking Eric’s face in both his hands and piercing his soul with his kind blue eyes. “You earned this. I’m proud of you.” He pressed a kiss to Eric’s forehead, then wrapped his arms around him in a bear hug, in a breath melting Eric where he sat and pulling him back together again.

Eric almost wanted to argue, No, I needed you, I couldn’t even drive myself here this morning, but his train of thought was cut off by the sound of another car coming down the barren road. He craned his neck out of Carlos’s embrace to see a bright red hybrid approaching. “Shit, that’s Jeanne.”

“Really?” Carlos let him go, leaving one hand to stroke the back of his neck. “Man, you told me she liked to get to work early, but I didn’t realize this early.”

“Guess I’d better open up for her, huh?” Eric reached into his shirt pocket and wrapped his fingers around the keys to the shop. They were cold and foreign to the touch. He flashed Carlos a smile and let himself down from the truck.

“Hey.” There was a thud as Carlos hopped down next to him. He spun Eric around and gave him a peck on the lips – just a quick kiss, but it said so much. Not that it was like Carlos to let things go unspoken, of course. “I love you and you’re gonna do great. Okay?”

Calming Eric’s nerves entirely was an impossible task, but Carlos would try anything to do so. It made Eric feel like he was worth something, more than any accolades at work ever could. “Okay. Yeah, okay, I will,” he replied, and he believed it. He pulled Carlos in for a longer goodbye kiss. He could hear Jeanne parking and calling out to him, but she could wait for a minute.

Chapter Text

“Ooh, guys, what about this? It’s an automatic microwave cleaner. We’d never have to stick our hands in there ever again!”

“I don’t mind cleaning the microwave. It’s just food.”

“You’re such a workaholic, Carlos. Even at home! Open yourself to convenience!”

Junpei grabbed the box out of Akane’s hands. “Enough of this As Seen On TV crap, Kanny.” He regarded the price and recoiled. “They never work like they say they will. And even if they did, there are simpler and less expensive ways to get stuff done.”

Akane stuck her tongue out at him. “Luddite.”

“Can you blame me?” With a teasing grin, he stood on his toes and put the microwave cleaner on a high shelf just out of Akane’s reach, making her squeal and bat him on the arm.

“Where are the mattresses, anyway?” said Carlos, trying to get the other two back on track.

Junpei smirked. “What, can’t find the way with your ‘fireman’s intuition?’”

“Jesus, I hope not. This place would be a nightmare in a fire. All these shelves crammed floor to ceiling with stuff? It’s like a tinder box in here. Not to mention a maze for my non-esper coworkers to get through.”

“Oh, Carlos!” Akane grabbed his arm and squeezed him close. “Always so worried about our safety.” All three of them knew she would never listen to a word he said, of course, at least when it came to the safety of shopping. A big-box home goods and furnishings store like this, with goodies and gadgets piled high and a confusing floor plan to get lost in for hours, was a paradise to her.

“Anyway…” said Junpei. “I think the mattresses are that way.” He pointed unhelpfully around a pillar of scrubbing brushes.

They wandered the store for fifteen minutes, past stacks of dinnerware and oscillating fans, until finally they found themselves in a large open space with a long row of display beds lining the wall. Junpei collapsed back onto the rightmost one with a loud groan.

“Junpei! What are you doing?” said Carlos.

“We’ve been walking forever. I’m exhausted.” Junpei jerked his legs up onto the bed, sending dirt flying from the soles of his sneakers onto the comforter.

“But you can’t just lie down on these, can you?”

“Of course,” said Akane like it was obvious. “You have to be a little more careful than Jumpy’s being,” she added, glaring at him, “but the displays are there to be tested.”

“Go easy on him, Akane,” said Junpei. “He’s only ever bought used mattresses off of eBay.” Carlos opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it; it wasn’t like Junpei was wrong.

To illustrate her point, Akane walked past Carlos to the bed next to Junpei’s, took her shoes off, and plopped herself onto it. She sank half a foot into the fluffy mattress and made a noise of ecstasy. “Oh my god so comfy it has to be this one.”

“It’s a twin!” argued Junpei as he sat up.

“So? We just get three of them!”

“Isn’t there a study that says couples who sleep in separate beds never have sex? Like ever?”

Carlos laughed and placed himself pointedly in between the two of them. “Well, Junpei, it’s a good thing we’re not exactly a ‘couple,’ then,” he said. “Too bad a single king mattress will probably average out to be less pricey than three of these.”

“It can’t be that bad, can it?” said Akane.

Carlos nodded. “We don’t all have psychic investment banker brother money, Kanny.”

“Fine.” She pouted and laboriously pushed herself up off of the comfiest bed in the world.

The largest mattresses were all the way on the other side of the room, which meant another minute of walking, to Junpei’s dismay. The store’s selection of king beds was meager, understandably – polyamorous relationships looking to move in together weren’t a huge market, and ultra-rich people with an eye for luxury didn’t tend to shop at places like this, Akane notwithstanding.

Still, with the prospect of all three of them being able to sleep comfortably in one bed, the very first huge mattress they laid their eyes on felt like a dream.

“That’s it. That’s our bed,” said Carlos, eyes wide.

“I don’t like the sheets…” said Junpei, referring to the stuffy-looking paisley comforter.

“We’re just here for the mattress,” Akane reminded him. “We can get whatever sheets we want!”

“Okay, then I’m thinking… superheroes.”

“How ‘bout we test it out?” said Carlos with a laugh. The three of them climbed on top of the display bed, a wide expanse where each of them could have plenty of personal space (a good thing, if Carlos and Akane didn’t want Junpei snoring directly into their ears). They found themselves gravitating towards the center, however, wanting to see how it would fare for cuddling. Extremely well, it turned out. The mattress was cushy, but firm enough that the weight of three people huddled together didn’t cause it to droop. It was so perfect that they nearly fell asleep right there – Akane, a princess in the middle, woke up her suitors on either side when she realized a little kid shopping with his mom had stopped to stare at them. The three of them fell apart in giggles, newly eager to get this behemoth of a bed into the privacy of their own home.

Chapter Text

When the courier delivered Nagisa’s latest correspondence from America, Hongou was surprised by the letter’s bulk. It was official Nonary Project business, as indicated by the red seal etched with the image of an enneagram. What Nagisa usually sent were short, clinical updates on the project’s progress stateside, rarely enough to fill more than a single page. But while this letter was still light to hold, there was some object inside bloating the envelope.

Hongou waited for the courier to leave before brandishing his letter opener. He sliced cleanly through the paper, careful not to graze the mystery object, which was surely of grave importance to the project if Nagisa couldn’t risk sending it by parcel. It bristled against his fingertip as he gingerly lifted it, its reedy weight catching him off-guard.

It was only a feather. A crooked brown feather. Long and complete, and almost certainly real, but far from what Hongou had been expecting. What did this have to do with the project? What was Nijisaki thinking? That question was quickly answered as Hongou unfolded the paper accompanying the feather. It was official Cradle stationary, but with a yellowed and fuzzy champagne stain running diagonally across it, covered with the less-than-elegant scribbles of an inebriated Nagisa. Hongou grabbed the top of his hat in frustration, almost crushing the thing before he noticed the first thing Nagisa had written. Frustration soon gave way to affection.

Dearest Gentarou,

Construction on Building Q is proceeding according to schedule. I have little to report, besides that I can hardly stand another day supervising these brutish Americans. Every single one of them, loud, stupid, and disobedient. The contractors make jokes when they believe I’m out of earshot, mocking my face and my accent, speculating about my sexual proclivities for schoolgirls and tentacles, as if they don’t realize I have powerful connections who would kill them on your word. (And why don’t we do that, Gen? Why extort them for their silence to the tune of millions when we could simply dispose of them when their job is done?) The longer I put up with it all, the more I wish you were here with me.

Of course, your responsibilities back home are too great. Refurbishing the Gigantic, monitoring Kubota’s work and narrowing down the subjects – every bit of your focus goes into achieving your dream. I don’t mean to sound bitter. Every bit of my focus goes into achieving your dream, and I’d have it no other way. But I wish security weren’t quite an issue. There ought to be more convenient ways than this to share my feelings with you.

I’m sure you’ve seen your gift. An eagle feather. By design, our tract of land is devoid of life, an empty patch of sand cordoned by mountains. There are no cacti in sight and the only animals I’ve seen have been the birds passing above, not even considering coming to a stop here. One flew quite close yesterday, however, and it dropped a feather that landed at my feet. The foreman identified the creature as a hawk, but pardon me if it better suits my narrative to call it a bald eagle.

The oafs of this country see themselves as the eagle – ferocious predators and fierce individualists. Every American thinks himself above the masses, but I have yet to meet any of such character. In fact, I have only met one man in my life who rises to the level of the eagle, and he is you.

When all this is over, let the two of us take a trip to Las Vegas. You would do well in this country, Gen. You would rise above the masses and show them the potential they could never reach. But until then, take this memento and never forget what you are to me.

Much love,

Nagisa

Hongou sighed and looked again at the feather. So Nagisa saw Hongou’s own potential within this flimsy little thing? Well, Nagisa always did have a more metaphorical mind. Hongou placed the feather stem-first into his pen holder and, from its place, took out a pen. He was busy, but he could at least start on his reply to the surprisingly sentimental letter.

Nagisa,

What a shame this project keeps us apart. But do not forget it is also what brought us together. Without it I would not have had the joy of receiving your gift…

And it would all be worth it the day he could see his love’s face clearly.

Chapter Text

The first time she heard it was January 3^rd, 2029. Sigma woke up from surgery to a hospital in chaos. The staff had left him to die as people succumbed to Radical-6 left and right, but luckily, Diana had been able to sneak her way into the recovery ward amongst the confusion. She slowly brought him off the anesthesia, monitoring his pale, scarred face for any signs of pain, and gasped in relief when his eye cracked open and he murmured her name.

“Crash… ‘kane… help us…” he slurred, his slow, heavy breathing masking the urgency of his words.

“Shhh… Sigma, you need to rest.” Diana’s words were horrifically punctuated by a blood-curdling scream from the hallway. She swallowed and shakily patted his leg, careful not to disturb his IV.

“…get out of here together…” Sigma babbled, not hearing her. “I promise. I love you.”

He was neither lucid nor coherent, and perhaps because of this, Diana knew he meant it. She also knew she didn’t deserve it, not after dooming the world. She never let herself cry while treating patients, but she wanted to. To have his love – to still have his love, she realized – was more forgiveness than she could ask for.

The first time she said it was April 12^th, 2029. Sigma and Phi’s SHIFT was imminent, and the Kurashikis had given them and Diana a merciful break from space travel preparations to let them say a private goodbye in the shelter’s sleeping quarters. Phi had already spent most of the time comforting Diana, who had been struck by a terrible case of vertigo too strong to even stand up from the cot.

“I’m never going to see you again, Phi!” she sobbed into the sweater of the girl she had sacrificed six billion lives to save.

Phi coughed uncomfortably. “Well, how do you think Sigma feels?”

Diana looked up to see Phi biting her lip and cringing. Sigma’s expression was one of horror. It was obvious to everyone that referencing Diana’s impending death had been in extremely poor taste.

“Uh. What I meant was –”

On the plus side, it had been shocking enough to break Diana out of her vertigo. She interrupted Phi with a hug. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I was scared I wouldn’t get the chance to say… I love you.”

She meant it for Phi, but as Phi hugged her back, Diana looked over her shoulder at Sigma. He was leaning stoically against the wall, silently affected by the fact that his fleeting reunion with Diana was ending. He nodded as she made eye contact, and she knew in that moment that the words had reached him too.

The first time he heard it was April 13^th, 2029. Diana would curse herself afterwards – he was no longer the wise and mature man she knew, just a terrified kid who was a stranger to her as much as she was a stranger to him. But Sigma was afraid of flying. He spent the countdown gripping his seat in the rocket so hard his skeletal metal knuckles would have been white. It came to her instinctively as the best way to console him, a hand on his shoulder and a whisper: “I’m here, Sigma. I love you.”

It worked, if only by baffling him out of fear. Diana spent the next several hours averting her eyes, while Sigma couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. He felt the sting of his recent breakup, which had until that moment ceased to be anywhere near the greatest of his worries, but he also felt that pain eased. An adolescent part of his brain he knew he would have to grow out of was absolutely psyched – his older self had game and was leaving him to go live alone with a hot woman who was in love with him.

She had spoken to more than just his libido. As they left Earth’s gravity and the last tethers to his home, ravaged as it was, were severed, Sigma gasped Diana’s name and reached out to her. She laid her hand in his and pulled him back into his seat, and Sigma felt the first inkling of hope that the moon could become a home, too.

The first time he said it was September 5^th, 2029. Although Diana had gotten comfortable expressing affection over the past several months, realizing 23-year-old Sigma wasn’t fundamentally that different from the 67-year-old, Sigma was slow as ever to reciprocate. It was some pathetic macho hang-up he was trying to shake. Even though it was abundantly clear to him that she was the love of his life, he was afraid to be vulnerable, afraid that sincerity would bring about a more complete rejection than he had ever experienced.

It was during an especially rapturous night together that it came to him in a morphogenetic flash, the revelation that she was hiding something from him, that their time together was limited. She held his face in her hands afterwards, running her thumb gently underneath his eyepatch, and he ached knowing he wouldn’t be able to feel this forever. He grazed his lips over hers, barely kissing her, just inhaling her warm, sweet breath, and breathing it back hesitantly: “I love you, Diana.”

“Oh!” Diana grinned and her flushed face turned redder. “I love you, too, Sigma,” she said with a shy giggle.

To her, the exchange was one of young love at its purest, but Sigma had to hide his dread. There would only be so many more opportunities to say it and hear her say it back, and the worst part was, he didn’t know how exactly how many that would be.

On December 31^st, 2028, all of these memories yet unmade appeared in their heads alongside the Decision Game’s many alternate paths. They were points in a cycle that had finally been broken. For the first time in any history, Sigma and Diana embraced their daughter while knowing who she was to them. Around Phi, they found each other and joined hands. Sigma gave Diana a squeeze with the affection of every first they’d lost inside it, without any of the pain.  

Phi noticed, and although she could barely stand to separate from her parents, she pushed them both gently away and gave them a knowing smile. “I ought to give you two a moment.”

They weren’t out of the woods yet. Part of them didn’t want to get ahead of themselves, not before the Decision Game was over. But as they moved behind the bar, alone in their shared fog of memory and love, they knew that this was part of a new beginning. Diana threw her arms around Sigma’s shoulders, and he lifted her to meet him. They whispered it simultaneously, their new and only first:

“I love you.”

Chapter Text

Be careful, Luna. Dr. Klim had said it while placing a strand of hair behind her ear and looking at her with a certain fear in his eye. Luna didn’t understand. Bringing Dio his dinner had long since been established as a safe activity for her. He had never shown her any signs of aggression, and he’d even adopted a demeanor that was almost gentle. She’d told Dr. Klim as much, but that somehow only made him more fearful. She sensed him wringing his hands as she departed towards the crew quarters, and as much as she hated to worry the doctor, she had to ignore him.

No matter what, she could never be afraid of Dio.

She knocked on his door. Whenever Miss Kurashiki came to see Dio, she would unlock the door and intrude on him without announcing herself. Luna didn’t like that. He deserved privacy and he seemed to appreciate it, too. He grunted angrily through the door before realizing what time it was and who it must have been. “Oh! Come in.”

Luna smiled. She unlocked the door and walked in on Dio, lying on the bed and lazily paging through a familiar yellow book on Schrodinger’s cat. He glared at the pages like they had said something to personally offend him, but his eyes lit up and he broke into a slanted grin when he saw her.

“All right, chow time.” Dio tossed the book aside as he sat up. It clattered, open, onto the floor. “What kind of slop is it today?”

“Salmon,” said Luna simply as she handed him the boxed meal. The fish had been overwhelmingly pickled and salted to retain its freshness on the moon, but she left that detail out of it. “And I managed to sneak something else in – a little gin for after dinner!”

Dio’s eyes widened. “No fucking way? Luna, you are so incre-” He sustained the syllable as Luna reached into her pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. “-dibly funny. Hilarious. Here comes Laugh-a-Minute Luna with the jokes.”

Luna couldn’t help but giggle. Humor didn’t come naturally to her, but it always cheered Dio up when she tried a joke. She’d been practicing that one and was quite proud of it. “Do you want to play cards?” she asked.

“Sure. Not like there’s anything else to do but read.” Dio planted his feet on the floor so she’d have room to sit next to him.

“Miss Kurashiki still has you studying Erwin Schrodinger, I see,” said Luna, referring to the book lying open and face-down on the floor. She set the cards at the foot of the bed and knelt down to pick up the book. She was surprised to see several other books hidden underneath the bed. She recognized them – thick tomes dense with robotics terminology, with a few of Luna’s own instruction manuals stuck in between them. “Or… GAULEMs. Why is she having you read about GAULEMs?”

“Shit. I didn’t want you to see that.”

Luna stood, book in hand, to see Dio grimacing. The box was half-open, filling the room with the smell of briny fish. She didn’t understand his concern, so she tilted her head questioningly.

“I’m not gonna read them, Luna. Don’t worry.”

“You don’t find us interesting?”

“Of course I do. But when the old lady was here, lecturing me about you guys, every word out of her mouth was bullshit. She wouldn’t shut up about how imperfect you are. She listed all these ‘fundamental’ things you’re missing that keep you from being fully human. Shit I know for a fact you have, like autonomy and empathy. It was fucking propaganda, and I’m not gonna let her brainwash me more with whatever’s in those books.”

Miss Kurashiki hadn’t been lying. There were many human traits Luna only possessed in a very rudimentary sense, and it was important to keep the difference in mind when dealing with a GAULEM. Still, her emphasis on that one point seemed strange, and Dio seemed quite upset either way. Commiseration was Luna’s best approach here. “Why would she tell you those things?” she said, sitting next to him on the bed.

“Obviously, Klim and Kurashiki have a problem with our… ah, friendship.” Dio tripped over the last word and broke eye contact with Luna. “They think I’m a bad influence on you or some shit.”

Dio was right. Luna spending time with him made Dr. Klim nervous – she knew that firsthand. But based on what she’d heard from the others, Luna was perhaps the only person on the Rhizome who could brighten Dio’s mood. So why would they try to discourage them from seeing each other.

Unless…

After a few moments of silence, Dio had started digging into his fish. He was mid-bite when Luna spoke, nervously clutching her music box. “I’ve been thinking about criminal law lately.”

“Oh yeah?” Dio scoffed with his mouth full, then swallowed. “This ought to be fascinating.”

“I’m thinking about how it applies to you, Dio,” Luna explained. “You see, in criminal law, there were four principles used to determine the sentence for a crime: retribution, deterrence, incapacitation, and rehabilitation. A proper sentence would balance all four principles in accordance with how badly they were needed. I’ve thought about this a lot, Dio. Your sentence, being contained in this room… I don’t believe it properly addresses any of the principles.”

“And by that, you mean…?”

“For one thing, there’s nothing to deter. Your offense was so specific. Nobody else needs the threat of punishment to stop them from sabotaging a Nonary Game, and you’ll never have the opportunity to do it again.

“Dr. Klim wants to incapacitate you, and to a certain extent I agree with him. Keeping you on Rhizome-9 prevents you from being a danger to anyone on Earth or even other Rhizomes. But as long as you are prevented from leaving the building, I believe you pose no danger to any of us. You don’t know how the facility operates, and we do, so hurting us would be a death sentence for you. But the doctor is too afraid for himself, and Kyle, and Miss Kurashiki. He insists on keeping you locked in this one room, which serves no practical purpose and undermines Miss Kurashiki’s attempts to rehabilitate you.

“She believes that you can unlearn what you were taught by Free the Soul simply through reeducation. If she lectures you and makes you read all the books that were kept from you, she can undo the damage that was done. But I believe rehabilitation also requires a human element, positive, regular social interaction that isn’t academic in nature. You’re not getting that alone in here.”

Luna hadn’t taken her eyes off Dio through her entire explanation. Despite his initial disinterest, he had put down his fish and had slowly been leaning closer to her since about halfway through. Maybe he was just pulled in by her voice – he’d told her he liked her voice, after all – but she preferred to think her words had held his interest.

“That’s why your punishment is not proper,” she concluded, her voice shaky from exertion.

“But what about retribution?” said Dio. His voice was thin. Close.

Luna smiled nervously. “Oh, I’ll be honest, I didn’t consider that one for a long time. Retribution is about causing the criminal pain proportional to the pain they inflicted. But that doesn’t make sense to me. Isn’t it the point that no pain should have been caused in the first place? Why is the pain suddenly okay if the criminal is the one suffering?” She felt pressure against her artificial tear ducts and brought both hands up to cover her face. “Do you think that’s really why they’re keeping you here, Dio?” she whispered. “Are you suffering?”

He stared into her eyes for a long time without answering. She felt his breath warm against her nose. Eventually, he shrugged and sat back. “Nah. I’m bored as shit, but I don’t think that counts as suffering.”

“Good. Good.” Luna furrowed her brow and nodded emphatically. “If they were really trying to hurt you, I would take issue. I- I would have to say something!” Hesitantly, she brought a hand to his arm. “I promise I would never let them bring you to harm. You’re a very important person to me, Dio, and –”

Luna tried to speak more, but she suddenly found herself mute. Her face felt very warm, and for a moment she wondered if she was overheating and losing systems. Then, Dio raised one of his thin eyebrows in concern and leaned towards her, putting a hand on her cheek as if to pull her back to reality.

Be careful, Luna. Was this what Dr. Klim had meant? Not to be careful with Dio, but with herself. These feelings she had, they weren’t familiar to her. Perhaps she’d never been meant to feel them at all, but she did. And what if she expressed them in a way that hurt someone?

Dio didn’t look hurt; in fact, he looked about to say something. But then he read her expression as apologetic and embarrassed. He withdrew his hand with an understanding nod and said, “I’m not that hungry anymore. Did you want to play cards?”

Luna relaxed. “Yes. Yes, I would really like that.” She couldn’t help but think that if the others could see this side of him, they might be more inclined to support him rather than keep him locked up. But if that wasn’t going to happen, she could settle for being the one bright spot in his day.

Chapter Text

Alice Amin loved beautiful things: luxurious clothes and jewelry, the sunset over LA’s skyline, her girlfriend’s smile. And flowers. People, most often co-workers, were surprised to learn that the tough and serious agent liked something so delicate, but she did, even maintaining a small flower garden on her porch. She could think of no better gift for Clover on their one-year anniversary.

The ephemeral nature of cut flowers had never seemed romantic to Alice, however. Rather than make Clover a bouquet that would die in a couple weeks at best, she surprised her with a picnic lunch at a botanical garden and bought her a sampler of seed packets so she could grow some herself.

The trip was a successful one. Clover was affected by spectacle like a small child seeing Disneyland for the first time, oohing and ahhing at all the most colorful and intricate tulip arrangements. While she was gawking at a huge floral topiary of a cat, Alice found a picnic table under the shade of a cherry tree, its blossoms the same shade of pink as Clover’s hair. She arranged their meal (Chinese takeout, not Alice’s cup of tea but Clover’s favorite) in the most elegant fashion she could, placing the cupcakes at the edge of the table just long enough to sneak a picture. She was leaning down to hide the cupcakes back in the picnic basket alongside Clover’s gifts – the seeds along with a lot of candy – when the sound of Clover’s humming approached and something was placed on top of her head.

“Happy anniversary!” Clover chirped.

Alice straightened slowly. Her instinctual reaction to having a foreign object placed on her person was to avoid jostling it in any way, lest it explode. “Clover,” she said, voice stern, “what is on my head?”

“Look for yourself!”

Alice turned around and eyed Clover, who was grinning wide. She figured whatever the object was, it was probably safe, and she gingerly lifted it off her head with both hands. It was a wreath of flowers – specifically, jasmines. Alice’s favorite.

“It’s a flower crown!”

“You know you’re not allowed to pick the flowers here, right?” said Alice. She was actually finding herself rather angry that her girlfriend had defaced the garden.

Clover raised her hands. “I didn’t, I promise! I made it at home, out of a bouquet I bought.”

Alice tilted the crown and took a closer look at it. The flowers were lightly smushed from being stored in Clover’s messenger bag, and they were not just interlaced with each other but wrapped around a wire, as well. So there had been some foresight involved. “Still, I don’t think I should wear this while we’re here,” she said. “Wouldn’t want someone to think we were stealing.”

“Oh, okay.” Clover clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels. “Do you like it, though? It’s kind of a tradition for Light and me to make each other flower crowns on our birthdays. I know I forgot your birthday, but I still wanted you to be a part of it.” She looked Alice earnestly in the eye. “Is that okay with you?”

Was that okay with her? Did she like it? Alice didn’t know how to respond. The gift was impractical and wasteful. The wire looked uncomfortable and the whole thing was just a size too small for her head.

But the jasmines were beautiful. And Alice Amin loved beautiful things.

She looked over her shoulder to make sure there were no potential snitches watching, then put the crown back on her head. “Absolutely. I love it! And I love you.” She gave Clover a kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to wear this around the office until it rots or they tell me to stop.”

“Yay! I’m so glad,” said Clover, beaming. She gave Alice a big hug, and as she was looking over her shoulder, she gasped. “Are those spring rolls?” In a shot, she was sitting at the table, already digging in.

Alice adjusted her flower crown and sighed. She pulled up her phone camera to see how the jasmines looked in her hair (amazing, it turned out. White and gold were really her colors) and through the corner of the lens she saw Clover. Sweet Clover, who already considered Alice part of her family and had made her this crown to prove it, who was reminding Alice that while flowers might not be eternal, neither was life, and neither was love. For all her trying, Alice had been unable to forget the weeks she and Clover had lost that winter, sleeping and frozen in that bunker. Crash Keys had let them go, supposedly after averting some global crisis, and things had gone back to normal pretty quickly. But if something terrible had happened… life was fleeting, and just like Alice would be wearing the heck out of this flower crown, she had to make the most of her time with Clover while she still had it.

Her gaze drifted up to the cherry tree she was standing under, and she got an exciting idea. Checking once again that no one was around to see, she stood on her toes and plucked a cherry blossom from a low branch. The action made her stomach flip, but she knew it would be worth it as she sidled up behind Clover and stroked her ponytail. She slipped the stem of the blossom under Clover’s elastic hair tie, an accent that a passerby might not notice in her pink hair but which stood out to Alice, who could stare at Clover’s hair for hours, as quite fashionable.

“What are you doing, Alice?” said Clover, absentmindedly, bringing a hand up to her ponytail.

“Just making sure we’re the most enviable couple around the office.”

Chapter Text

“I hope this isn’t too presumptuous. I brought you a present!”

It was too presumptuous. This was their second official date, and they’d only been loose acquaintances before. Maria deserved some slack, sure – she had been comatose for the part of her life when most people learned how to date. But as she stood on Phi’s doorstep, jauntily leaning on her cane and holding out a bulky gift-wrapped package, blue eyes glistening and blonde hair frizzy from her flannel apparel, she was coming off pretty desperate.

Pretty desperate.

Pretty. Fuck.

“Thanks,” said Phi, taking the gift with an involuntary smile. “Do you, uh, want to come in? Mom made us cookies. Trolling to meet you, but I convinced her to stay upstairs, don’t worry.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” said Maria. She pulled her mittens off with her teeth as she stepped inside, passing her cane from one hand to the other. “I’ve already met your birth parents.”

“Mom is more embarrassing than you could imagine.” Not to mention a preview of exactly what to expect from me 100 years from now.

She led Maria into the kitchen and over to the table where there was a batch of sugar cookies, decorated like snowflakes, waiting for them. Phi pulled a chair out for Maria and sat down across from her. She placed the present on the table and eyed it warily. It was box-shaped, so there could have been anything inside, really. Maybe it was just some cheap gag gift, a silly joke between pals that wouldn’t carry any expectations or implications. 

She glanced at Maria, who sat with her hands politely crossed in her lap and a blazing smile on her face. It made Phi blush and wonder: was something silly all she wanted from Maria? God, she shouldn’t have been worrying about this on a second date.

“You know the cookies are there to eat, right?” she said.

Maria raised her eyebrows. “Oh! Of course. Thank you,” she said, picking up a snowflake and gingerly nibbling on one of the branches.

A second pass over the gift with her hands revealed the ridge of a hard cover. It was a book, and a thick one at that. Now Phi was really intrigued. The book was wrapped meticulously, with perfect creases all around and no crumpled corners. Someone more sentimental might have felt bad about wrecking Maria’s careful work, but in Phi’s mind, wrapping was meant to be torn. She picked away at the front of the wrapping until the book’s title was revealed:

Shakespeare’s Latin Tragedies

Phi raised an eyebrow and opened it the rest of the way. A cursory look through the pages revealed the book contained translations of all ten of Shakespeare’s tragedies into Latin. It was kind of the perfect gift for Phi, and she could already feel herself getting giddy over being able to read Marc Antony and Julius Caesar in their native language. But such perfection also made her suspicious.

“One of the translators is local so it’s been on display in my favorite independent bookstore forever,” Maria explained. “Me and Carlos stopped by the store this morning, and I didn’t know if you liked Shakespeare at all, but it made me think of you and –”

“How did you know I could read Latin?” It had never come up between them.

Maria’s eyes widened, surprised at Phi’s sudden aggression. “Oh! Um, lucky guess? Your name?”

“Nice try. My name is Greek.” Phi was trying not to raise her voice, but she couldn’t help it if recent experiences had made her paranoid. “Don’t tell me Carlos told you.” That seemed unlikely, too. She’d never discussed languages with Carlos, though she knew he was close with Junpei, who she had talked to about it. Still, if that was the explanation Maria came up with…

“He kind of did. In a certain way.”

Phi was ready to call bullshit, but then something in Maria’s phrasing jumped out at her. A certain way… a certain way that she and Carlos could communicate. Shit. Why did she always forget that the Chases were espers, and powerful ones at that? She softened her body language, suddenly realizing that she was pointing a harsh finger at Maria and how it was making her cower.

“I have to confess something, Phi,” said Maria quietly. “I-I’m really sorry if this makes things too weird, but it’s the truth, and you deserve to know. When I woke up this morning, we were already in a serious relationship.”

“What?” Phi felt like she would have remembered that.

“I mean… I felt like we were serious. Because I was remembering a history where we were. One of the histories I dreamed when I was comatose. It happens sometimes, where I wake up with another history in my head and it feels so real, to the point I even forget it’s not the world I’m living in. It wasn’t that bad today, but still, when we were at the bookstore and Carlos made a joke about ‘getting a present for your girlfriend,’ I immediately thought about this book and how you loved Latin. Part of me knew it would be too familiar to get it for you, but at the same time… I knew it was a perfect gift for you and I couldn’t stand to think of you not getting it.”

“Why didn’t you wait until we knew each other better to buy it?”

Maria shrugged. She set her half-eaten cookie back on the tray. “I forget those foreign memories eventually. I had to act fast.” She bit her lip and looked to the side. Her hand twitched like she wanted to grab her cane. “Look, Phi, Reverie Syndrome messed a lot of things up for me. I may not remember everything, but I know I saw you a lot in those dreams. And we were really happy together.” She smiled, shy and sad. “I wanted to make things work with you. But the thing is, there are going to be times when I know you better than I should. And if that makes things too weird, I understand.”

I love the book. And it’s not too weird. I’ve had to keep myself a mystery to so many people, so having someone perfectly understand me sounds incredible. Phi wanted to say all of those things, but reassurance was not her strong suit. But she had to do something to stop Maria from bolting. “So if you knew me really well in those histories, you probably met my mother in them, too,” she said.

Maria perked up. “I did, kind of. But I know she embarrasses you…”

And what better way to show someone you didn’t mind their baggage than by showing off some of your own? “Mom! Come down and meet Maria!” Phi shouted. As they heard excited motion coming from upstairs, she grabbed a cookie of her own and smiled at Maria. “Thanks for the book,” she said. “It’s great.” She meant it, but she worried the affect of her voice came off too much like sarcasm.

Maria grinned, however. She knew how to read Phi’s sincerity. Not a lot of people did. It would be interesting to be with someone who knew her so well, perhaps even better than she knew herself. But Maria seemed worth whatever awkwardness that might bring.

Chapter Text

If there was any professional doubt that the baby was Talia’s wife reincarnate, that all disappeared when they brought her home. Long hours staring at her asleep in her crib revealed Phi’s heart-shaped chin beneath the baby fat and a faint halo of fuzzy orange hair. She was as dry and borderline humorless as Phi, crying on cue in response to Talia’s worst puns. And she was as punctual as Phi; she would wake up bawling at exactly 2:46 every morning. Be it for a diaper change, a feeding, or a non-specific fuss, it was always 2:46 sharp.

Phi herself had never wanted children. She and Talia were both already quite advanced in age when they first met, of course, but even beyond that, Phi had doubted her maternal instincts. She was too rigid, too cold, too focused on her work. Her approach to parenting would resemble that of a field researcher observing the development of a chimpanzee more than that of a mother, and any child would grow to loathe her. That was what Phi thought, of course – although she never pressured Phi to adopt, Talia didn’t believe it was true for a second.

And like in so many things, Talia was right. When the baby started sobbing at 2:46, she would wake up to find that Phi had been awake for several minutes already in anticipation and was approaching the crib with a warm bottle in hand. Talia would offer to help, but Phi would urge her back to sleep, assuring that her that she had it all under control. Her voice would be melodic, a lullaby for wife and child, and Talia would drift off, content that Phi was already so attuned to the baby’s needs.

After a week of this, however, Talia noticed how exhausted Phi was. Her blue eyes were ringed by bags of a similar color. She overslept – technically not a problem, as the lab had given her time off to take care of the baby, but her internal alarm clock had never gone off late before, even on weekends. Talia began to wonder if Phi was really waking up according to the baby’s schedule, or if she was even sleeping at all late at night. Something had felt different about the familiar weight on the other side of the bed, and Talia was concerned. Suddenly, she felt herself on the opposite side of her and Phi’s parenthood argument.

“You’re too old for this, Fifi,” she yawned one morning at 2:46, resisting as Phi urged her back to sleep.

“I’m younger than you’ll ever be, dear,” Phi retorted. She said it cheekily, but laid the changing pad down on her side of the bed as if she knew a serious conversation was to ensue.

Talia frowned. Being born from the transporters may have slowed Phi’s aging significantly, but she was still an old woman and it would do well for her to remember that. “I’m serious. The lab is almost finished with the tests they need to run on little Phi, and they’ve started talking about finding adoption agencies –”

“No!” Phi interrupted. The baby whimpered at the outburst, but Phi was quick to soothe her. “She needs me,” she said, one hand around a fresh diaper and the other reaching out to let the baby grab her finger. “Anyone else would lie to her about where she came from. The things she can do. Anyone else would change her name.” She looked Talia in the eye, her gaze heavy with exhaustion and fear. “Who else would know how to protect her from him?”

In order for the girl to have a normal life, some things would need to be hidden from her – the entire board, Phi included, had agreed to this. She couldn’t know about the transporters, or that she was a double. But Phi had a certain point. This kind of protective spirit was not something Talia would usually expect out of her wife, but it was here now for a reason. Little Phi had the opportunity to have that in a mother, and she deserved to keep that opportunity.

Talia sighed. “I would know how.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry for even suggesting that we give her up,” said Talia, throwing the covers off of herself and walking to meet Phi on the other side of the bed. “But if we’re going to do this, you’re going to have to let me help. I can’t watch you run yourself ragged.” She placed a hand on Phi’s elbow and rubbed it reassuringly.

Phi scoffed and turned her head sheepishly. “You’re right,” she said. “Of course you’re right. You want to start now? The dirty work’s done. All that’s left is to powder and dress.”

“I would love to.” Talia nudged Phi to get her to turn back and see her goofy grin. “Butt you might have to show me how.”

Phi groaned at the bad pun and the baby started crying. Talia frantically shushed the girl, embarrassed at how quickly things had turned but also excited by the big project ahead of her. If she was going to be a permanent fixture in their house, she’d teach little Phi the charms of wordplay yet.

Chapter Text

Mira was short. This was a neutral fact to her, something she was neither proud of nor embarrassed by. She wore platform shoes not to boost her ego, but because she liked how they looked. And not that the opinion of any man would ever impact her self-esteem, but her average-sized husband didn’t care how tall she was, either. Even a head beneath him, Mira could bring Eric to his knees in awe with one stony look. Height was an incidental statistic that had no impact on their dynamic.

Yet it still baffled Mira that they found themselves so often in this awkward position. They would be canoodling on the couch or on the bed and Eric would maneuver them so they were laying like so, both on their sides, Eric with his back to Mira and her with her arms around him. Spooning, but the wrong way. With their hips flush together, her toes just brushed his ankles and the top of her head barely breached his shoulders, and although Mira didn’t hate his warmth and the smell of his detergent right in her face, it still felt absurd.

Why did he like this position so much? There were so many fascinating quirks to Eric’s heart, and this was one Mira was desperate to decipher. She had done her research trying to figure it out, but all she’d determined was that spooning released oxytocin and could ease anxiety – good things for Eric, of course, but he could reap those benefits just as easily as the big spoon. She also learned that their variant was called “jetpacking,” but that gave her no insight as to why a man might prefer it.

Was it only a sex thing? Her breasts were pressed snugly against his back, and his front half was totally exposed to her touch – for example, the fingers she had slipped between the buttons of his shirt, caressing his chest. She had started doing it innocently, just feeling around for his heartbeat, but when she experimentally scraped her nails along his skin, catching against a nipple in the process, he gasped throatily.

Mira arched to press a kiss to the back of his neck. She was glad; it seemed she’d figured out his angle, and it was a simple one. Keeping her one hand busy at his chest, she drew the other up his hip and under his shirt and ghosted her fingertips under the waistband of his pants.

Eric groaned, “Mira…” and his stomach stuttered at her touch. But through his ecstasy, he grabbed the hand at his waist and halted her. “Can we just stay like this for a while?” he said, breath short.

Mira sighed. “Of course, baby.” She let him move her hand, draping her arm loosely over his side, and hoped he couldn’t feel her facial muscles move against his back as she pouted.

If it wasn’t about sex, then his preference was more emotional in nature. And that meant it would be more difficult for Mira to wrap her head around it. How frustrating. She clenched her hands in annoyance and accidentally dug her nails into his chest again. Eric hissed at the sudden pain, but he didn’t flinch.

Why didn’t he flinch? She knew their memories of other histories were weak, but wasn’t he at least reminded of stories he’d heard of her piercing his skin in a much less harmless way? Mira had been dangerous not that long ago, and Eric knew. Yet here he was, letting her hide at his back, with his front half totally exposed to her whims. If she’d had the desire and the foresight, she could have hidden a knife under her pillow or in her bedside drawer, taken it out without him seeing, and been cradling his heart in minutes.

Her husband could easily be described as “foolish,” but even this seemed like too big an oversight for him to make. Eric remembered Mira’s past. So what could putting himself in such a vulnerable position be, if not a declaration of the forgiveness and trust she didn’t deserve?

Mira bit her lip and hugged him closer, more to keep her hand from drifting down his body again than anything else. She had never been in love before Eric, and she had never been sexually attracted to anyone before Eric, either. As she had come to understand, for her, the latter was dependent upon the former, and as someone who had trouble expressing what little emotion she felt, this made sex a useful shorthand for “I love you.” An enthusiastic handjob from her was as good as any sweet nothing, and it was so much easier too. If he wasn’t in the mood, then fine. But now she was in an awkward position, one much more awkward than clinging to her husband as her shins hit the backs of his knees.

“I don’t know how else to show you I care,” she mused, muttering into his shirt, not sure if she wanted him to respond or even hear her.

He did, of course. “You already have been.”

“How?”

Eric laughed shyly. He found her hand still splayed over his heart and intertwined their fingers. “It’s weird for me to like cuddling like this. Guys are supposed to be strong and protective, and I’m just… not. You’re the strong one, Mira. I feel so safe when you’re holding me, so, I let you. And it’s weird. This is, like, the fifth time I’ve made you do this weird thing, and you’ve never questioned it even once.”

She had, silently. But perhaps her silence was key here.

“You let me be myself. You make it easy to be vulnerable.” He sighed. “And maybe that’s just the way you are and you don’t mean anything by it, but it makes me feel cared for. So thanks.”

He was getting better at explaining the nuances of his emotions, and gosh, that made her feel cared for. She squeezed his hand and tried to ignore how her face was burning.

“We can stop, by the way,” Eric continued. “Do… something else… if you really want to.”

“No!” said Mira, a bit more forcefully than she’d intended. “I want to stay like this. I want to protect you.” Eric was right that she hadn’t necessarily meant something by indulging his quirks; she was just easy-going. But if she was doing something right, she wasn’t about to stop.

Chapter Text

“Come on, Santa! The runway’s empty!”

“Where’s our jolliest model?”

Aoi scowled into the mirror. He’d already accepted that Akane would never let him live his choice of codename down, but who told Clover she was allowed to make fun of him, too? Maybe putting up with some light ribbing was the least he owed her for kidnapping her and all, but he would consider continuing to call him Santa a little too cheeky on her part.

Besides, he’d already indulged Clover enough by agreeing to do her stupid “fashion show.” It had sounded like harmless fun at first, a silly way to top off this little sibling sleepover. But now, alone in the bathroom with his dark thoughts and the look he was to model, it was all becoming a bit too serious.

There was a knock on the bathroom door with a familiar and musical cadence. “Are you decent?”

Fucking adorable. Respecting his privacy, as if Light could see him naked or if Aoi would care if he could. “Yeah, come in,” Aoi called out.

He didn’t turn to look at Light as he entered, but his boyfriend quickly made his presence known behind him in the mirror. Light was beset in a construction-site-orange denim hoodie with the sleeves torn off, baggy black cargo pants, a thick white infinity scarf and a rainbow headband. Aoi’s wardrobe was full of unique and meticulously hand-picked pieces that could be mixed and matched without fail – but apparently, only by their owner. Aoi could pull off dressing like an idiot. Not everybody could.

He smirked. “You look ridiculous.”

“And you look dashing, love.” Light flashed a smile full of playful sarcasm.

Aoi rolled his eyes and laughed, though luckily Light couldn’t see his grimace. It was just another of Light’s jokes, but… this one stung.

“Do I not own it?” said Light. He flashed a dramatic pose. “Surely you heard how loudly the girls cheered as I strutted for them.”

“How could I not? Akane can really screech when she wants to.”

“And now it’s your turn. Come, superstar. Your audience is anxious.”

Aoi shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know about this, babe,” he said.

“Oh? What’s the matter?”

“It’s your clothes.” Aoi turned back to the mirror, analyzing his unfamiliar outfit. “Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, ‘cause you always look fucking hot. But your clothes are all real feminine. It’s just because you’re slim, or whatever, and you like to wear fitted shit, and that’s great and all. But it makes me look like a chick.” He grumbled and undid another button on Light’s shirt to no avail. It was a grey silk dress shirt and it clung way too close to his skin. Even after the most expensive top surgery he could find, Aoi couldn’t help but see curves when any clothing was tight around his chest.

“Oh, Aoi… I had no idea,” said Light, placing a tender hand at Aoi’s back.

“If it were just you and Akane, yeah, I could do this for a laugh. But with Clover here… you haven’t told her, have you?”

Light shook his head. “No, Clover doesn’t know.” His hand trailed up Aoi’s back and towards his shoulder. “I promise she would never judge you, but if you’re really bothered by this, we can call the fashion show – is this my tie?”

“Huh?” Aoi turned his head, surprised by the non sequitur. Light was grasping the thin blue tie Aoi had draped around his shoulders, his head tilted down as if to look at it in disbelief. “Oh, yeah. What about it?”

“It’s untied.”

“Yeah, I tried to put it on like a scarf.”

Light grinned. “Oh, Aoi. Do you not know how to tie a tie?”

Aoi blushed. “No, duh. Who the hell would have taught me?”

“Your boyfriend, obviously.” Light gathered the strap of fabric in his hands and crossed his arms with determination. “I have an idea of how to turn this debacle around. Put your pajamas back on.”

Aoi didn’t have to be asked twice. He scrambled to get out of his constricting clothes, nearly tearing the zipper on his slacks in the process (thankfully he stopped himself in time – Light really liked those pants), and threw on what he’d been wearing before Clover got this hare-brained idea: a pair of sweatpants and a huge visual kei band T-shirt that went down to his knees. He didn’t love the way T-shirts looked on him usually, and this one was so big on him he looked like a toddler growing into his big boy clothes, but it was one of the only keepsakes of his father he had.

Once he was happy and masculine again, he turned to Light, who was holding the tie out straight, the thick end in his right hand. “Okay, what’s your big idea, genius?”

Light beckoned him forwards. “Stand with your back towards me,” he ordered. “I don’t know how to do this backwards.”

Aoi raised an eyebrow, but obliged.

“Now, are we facing the mirror? I want you to watch what I’m doing.”

They weren’t, but Aoi maneuvered them until they were. He stepped in front of the mirror to a much more pleasing view than what he’d been seeing previously. Light had his chin on Aoi’s shoulder, arms draped around him as he held the tie in the proper starting position around his neck. Their cheeks were grazing each other and Light almost had a glow about him. He didn’t mind having hair in his eyes most of the time, of course, but Aoi thought that maybe he should start wearing headbands more often – he was so handsome with his face unobstructed.

“This is a basic knot called the four-in-hand…”

He moved his hands slowly, painstakingly explaining every step he was taking. It was still too much for Aoi to take in in one sitting, but surely Light wouldn’t mind going through it again. Aoi hoped he wouldn’t, at least, because he couldn’t get enough of his boyfriend’s gentle hands dancing before him, looping and twisting the tie around them.

Light stepped back when he was finished, allowing Aoi to marvel at himself. For the first time in his life, he was wearing a tie. And he looked damn good in it. Yeah, it looked stupid as hell on top of an 80’s hair band T-shirt, but no one wore stupid quite as well as Aoi Kurashiki.

“How is that for blowing your sister’s mind?” said Light, clearly proud of himself.

“Hell yeah, it will,” replied Aoi. He turned to look at Light. “I don’t know how to thank you, man.”

Light smiled and took a step forwards. “You can thank me by letting me show you… perhaps the only downside to wearing a tie.”

“What’s that?”

“They make it much easier for me to do this.” With astonishing accuracy, Light reached forward and grabbed a fistful of tie, pulling Aoi in for a passionate kiss. Aoi brought his hands to the sides of Light’s face in surprise, but quickly melted into it as Light placed a second hand on the tie, locking them together even closer.

They were interrupted by a knock at the bathroom door. “Hello? Are you boys okay in there?” It was Akane.

The two of them broke apart sheepishly. For a moment, it had been just the two of them there, no sisters. “Yeah, Akane, we’re good,” said Aoi. He adjusted his tie, loving the feeling. “Wait ‘til you see this!”

Chapter Text

Hazuki and Seijin had one shared vision of their home together: one cat, and one dog. Shared visions were not a common theme for them, of course, and this one had already led to another argument, the question of which pet to get first.

“I’ve researched this.”

“Again with your damn research, ‘zuki…” Seijin was a fan of getting all the information before making a decision, too, but something about Hazuki’s insistence on painstakingly studying every possible angle to a situation turned him into an advocate for gut instinct.

“The best way to go about this is to start with a calm adult dog and make sure he’s well-trained before you bring in a cat.”

“We don’t even get to have a puppy?”

Hazuki rolled her eyes. “This is what all the behaviorists say.”

“Look, it’s all about the senses with dogs. If we get a cat first and let her get her smell all over the place, the dog will come in and know who rules the house. That’ll make it shape up. Don’t matter how well-trained it is.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Hazuki shook her head and dug into her purse. “That’s the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard. Look.” She navigated to a webpage on her phone and shoved it in Seijin’s face. “This article was written by a veterinarian.”

As Seijin tried clumsily to scroll through the article – damn these touchscreens made for tiny fingers! – a text message from Nona popped up at the top of the screen.

What time should I be there for dinner, Mom?

A bit of sweat formed on Seijin’s brow and he scratched his head to try and mask it. He hadn’t seen Nona in a while and as sweet as she was and as polite as he tried to be, things were always awkward between them. Even though he’d rescued her, he was still a reminder of her kidnapping and he knew she wasn’t thrilled about him dating her mother.

He cleared his throat. “Hey, ‘zuki, why don’t we try asking Ennea over one more time?”

“I don’t know,” said Hazuki. “I’d love to see her, of course, but the last time I spoke to her she was still tired from that… work thing.” Said “work thing” was a grueling mission for SOIS which Ennea had only returned from yesterday. The twins’ jobs were open secrets among the family, but Hazuki and Seijin never spoke on the subject in specific terms. They could never be too sure who was listening in.

“Well, I’d try again, just in case. You don’t want her to feel like she’s being left out.”

“Oh, you play dirty, don’t you? You just want someone there to take your side on this whole cat thing. We both know Ennea likes you best.” They were bitter words, but Hazuki grinned as she said them, snatching the phone back to text her daughter with a playful hiss.

Seijin grinned right back. The woman had a bite to her, all right. He looked forward to many years of fiery household disagreements to come.

Ennea decided to come after all, after Hazuki recruited Nona to beg her. The more reserved of the sisters was happy to get her sister to join her, perhaps too happy – Seijin couldn’t help but suspect she wanted Ennea there to diffuse the tension between her and their would-be stepfather. He saw it even in the way they sat themselves at the table while he and Hazuki brought out dinner; Ennea sat next to where Seijin had set his beer, and Nona sat across from her sister, calculatedly neither next to nor across from Seijin.

Still, she flashed him her politest smile as he joined them at the table. “So when do we get to meet Eight, Mom?” she called towards the kitchen.

And Hazuki wanted to accuse him of playing dirty? Seijin’s jaw dropped and he stared at her incredulously as she brought out the last of the salad bowls. “You didn’t. You told her we already got a dog?”

“I did no such thing. I told her we were thinking about it.”

“Telling her the name you picked out implies a lot more than just thinking.” Not to mention he’d always thought the name “Eight” was a joke. Hazuki claimed to want a big dog who could protect their home. Not that you can’t do that yourself, but I think a dog could do one better.

Nona frowned and shrunk back into her seat. Her lip trembled. “You don’t want a dog, Detective Tanaka?”

Dammit. It really didn’t take much for Siejin to upset her. Thankfully, Ennea was on hand to quell her sister’s anxieties. “He does. But you know how they have to fight about everything first.” She pulled out her phone. “Personally, I agree that they should get a cat first. I mean, look at this adoption listing that Seijin sent me.” She scrolled through her pictures and handed the phone to her sister. “They have to scoop her up before someone else does, right?”

Seijin looked to the side and scratched his head. So now they all knew his real motive for wanting a cat first was that he’d already fallen in love with a specific kitten. Didn’t matter how tough a guy was, there was no way anyone could resist such silky black fur and entrancing grey-blue eyes.

Nona smiled faintly as she read the kitten’s name. “Lucky, huh?”

Seijin beamed. “Yup! Because anyone would be lucky to have her.”

“Um, Seijin?” Ennea patted his hand gently. “I think it’s supposed to be an ironic name. Black cats are associated with bad luck in America.”

“Oh, wow. That’s a pretty mean name, then.” He still had no intention of changing it.

There was silence across the table for a moment. Hazuki came in to join them, but she could see Nona was reading and chose not to startle her by speaking.

Eventually, Nona’s eyes widened and she began to chuckle softly.

“What?” said Ennea.

“I get it.” Nona looked up. “I know why you want this cat, Detective Tanaka. She’s just like Mom.”

Seijin raised an eyebrow and nodded. It wasn’t like the thought hadn’t occurred to him. Hazuki, on the other hand, seemed scandalized. “What?” she said, sternly holding a hand out to her daughter. “Where do you get off comparing me to an animal, Seijin?” she said as Nona passed the phone to her. She started to read with a scowl. Seijin watched her grey-blue eyes as they scanned the blurb he had long since memorized:

I’m a feisty one! Stubborn at times, but I’m always generous with my affection and I love kids! If you can manage me sometimes sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong and getting into trouble, I would make a wonderful addition to your home.

Hazuki’s blush grew as she read. “She sounds like a handful.”

“She says as if I don’t know how to take care of handfuls,” Seijin said with an affectionate grin.

“I – ”

“Won’t you give Lucky a chance, Mom?” said Ennea, clasping her hands pleadingly.

“Yeah. Eight can wait.” Nona threw Seijin a shy but supportive smile that spurred the big man’s heart.

“Please, ‘zuki?”

Hazuki opened and closed her mouth futilely as she looked around the table at her daughters’ and boyfriend’s faces. Not even the most argumentative of women could face a family gang-up like this and survive. When she surrendered, it was with an exaggerated eye roll and an exasperated chuckle. “I’ll look into her,” she said. “No promises!”

Ennea cheered and Nona contentedly lay her head on her mother’s shoulder. Seijin felt Hazuki gently nudge his foot with her own under the table. She gestured at Nona with her head, as if to say Thank God for the girls, huh?

Seijin nodded. He loved to spar with Hazuki, but without the two greatest referees in the world, the two of them would never get anything done.

Chapter Text

“I feel naked like this.”

“Don’t worry about that. If you were actually naked, I think I’d be a lot happier right now.”

Kyle only sighed. He stretched out on the sofa, very much clothed in one of his father’s old jumpsuits, a green one this time. He’d put a sweater on top to cover up some of the more obnoxious appliques. He picked a bit of fuzz of his sleeve now, ignoring Dio’s remark.

“Come on, K, you have to react when I talk dirty. Otherwise I sound like a bigger pervert than your old man.” Dio turned away from the bar to look at him, idly stirring his White Sun. The liquors that were used in the lounge puzzles were cheap, homemade swills with differing amounts of sugar mixed in – literal moonshine, but Dio had found through experimentation that certain mixtures were vaguely potable. White Sun was not one of those mixtures.

“Oh, I apologize,” said Kyle. “I would also enjoy seeing you naked, although I believe we are in too public a concourse for such activity to be appropriate.”

Dio smirked and took another sip of the vile syrup. What a dweeb.

“Naked was the wrong word, besides,” Kyle continued. “Perhaps it felt apt because there is an actual article of clothing that I am missing. But to compare my current emotional state to nakedness does a disservice to nakedness, I think. Nudity is practical. There is always a purpose to it – bathing, using the restroom, even making love.”

Dio stood up and tipped his drink into the garbage. He had to take the bait, didn’t he? This waxing philosophical about bullshit was a quirk Kyle had picked up from Kurashiki, but where the old woman did it for fun, from Kyle it was a sure sign of stress. “Where you going with this, K?” he said, approaching the man on the sofa.

“Not wearing my suit, it’s like…” Kyle brought a hand to his chin. “It’s like I’m in disguise. A very bad disguise. Everyone knows it’s me but they’re pretending not to. They want me to keep wearing it because secretly they like the man I’m disguised as better than they like me.”

“You hate that you look like your dad, huh?”

Kyle tilted his head and looked at Dio as the blond plopped down on the floor next to him. “How could you tell?”

“You use a lot of words to say simple things,” said Dio with a shrug. “But you know with me you can just say ‘It’s clone shit’ and I’ll understand right away.”

“Hmm.” Kyle smiled faintly. “Clone shit. Right.” He looked back at the ceiling. “I’ve never hated the way I look without my helmet.”

Could anybody hate being so handsome? Dio moved an unruly lock of black hair to the side so he could see Kyle’s profile better. His intelligent eyes were framed by thick, furrowed brows and even thicker eyelashes. His jaw was sharp and perfect but his nose was slightly crooked, in a roguish way that didn’t match his personality at all but was still insanely attractive. Dio found it hard to believe Sigma had ever looked this good.

“Even if I looked like Father, with the rest of my suit on I was still unmistakably myself. But now that I’m dressed in his clothes…” Kyle gestured vaguely at himself and let his hand flop off the side of the couch.

If Kyle really wanted to take Dio to Earth, he first had to deacclimate himself to wearing his suit, which would be unbearably heavy under the planet’s gravity. It was unfortunate that the only clothing on the Rhizome that fit him were Sigma’s hand-me-downs. None of Left’s clothing remained, so Dio could only imagine how humiliating it would be to be dressed up like his progenitor.

 “I still know it’s you, Kyle.”

“I know.” Kyle turned to look at Dio, but then closed his eyes in thought. “I only wish you were the only one who mattered.”

“Kurashiki?”

Kyle nodded. “She knew Father when he was young. They’re friends. She sees him when she looks at me, and even though they no longer need me to fulfill a specific purpose, I know she has expectations of me. That I will be like him. That I’ll be a scientist and do important things. That is not the life I want for myself. But I do not wish to disappoint her, either.”

“Who –” Dio began, then stopped himself. He had been going to say Who cares what that crone thinks? But Kurashiki was basically Kyle’s mother figure, and apparently insulting another guy’s mother never made any situation better. Dio wouldn’t know – he’d never had someone like that in his life.

He tried again. “Kyle, you –” He stopped again. What the fuck was he supposed to say? The truth? Yup, Kyle, we’re clones. We’re pale imitations of beloved people whose shadows are always over us. We’ll never be true individuals, and it sucks and it’s never gonna change. Somehow he knew that wouldn’t be of any help. And he wasn’t going to lie and say going to Earth would solve all their problems; they both hoped it would improve their lives in certain ways, but Kyle would be able to sniff out that kind of false optimism easily.

“Dio?” said Kyle. “Is there something you would like to say?”

Dio grasped for something to say that might be encouraging to Kyle. But he came up short. “Nah,” he said. “Nah, it’s nothing.” He had nothing else to offer; with a resigned sigh, Dio silently slipped his hand into the one dangling over the side of the couch.

Kyle gasped at the touch. He was so unaccustomed to skin contact that even his hands were sensitive to it. In the heat of things his palms could almost border on erogenous zones; in this gentler moment, he sighed as Dio absentmindedly drew circles on the back of his hand with his thumb.

Even this was a little bit selfish on Dio’s part. Kyle had great hands – like, really great hands – and Dio liked to revel in their warmth and how they dwarfed his own. He remembered how deftly Kyle maneuvered his pencil when he watched him sketch the vegetables in the garden, how intricate his details were despite how clumsy he looked like he’d be. It was sexy as hell and hey, it was also something Sigma couldn’t do despite their identical DNA. Dio turned to Kyle to remind him of this, to say something about how Kurashiki could never deny him his unique talent for art. But then he saw the tears glistening on Kyle’s eyelashes.

“K? Hey, what’s the matter?” He jolted up and in the process he let go of Kyle’s hand. Kyle was quick to grab Dio’s hand back and pull him to sitting, just on the edge of the sofa where he could lean over him, bringing their faces close. His eyes were glossy, but there was a trace of a smile on his lips.

“Nothing’s the matter,” he said. “I’m simply… feeling my feelings, you might say. Thank you for reminding me to do so every once in a while.” He squeezed Dio’s hand and sat up to press their lips together.

Kyle was imposing. Even without the suit, his towering size and inscrutable expressions made him look tough. But secretly, he was delicate. He had the emotional armor people assumed he did, but that armor could crack like an eggshell. Dio had never been careful with eggs.

He brought his other hand to the back of Kyle’s head as they kissed, rubbing the same circles into his temples that he was to his hand. Kyle made a sound from the back of his throat and Dio felt it as the cathartic tears began to splash down his cheeks. Their troubles were as indelible as Sigma and Left were on their faces, and maybe the fact that they understood each other would never be enough to change that. But that understanding they shared didn’t even need words, and that was something special.

Chapter Text

Akane had put all that she was, in countless lifetimes, into stopping the catastrophe. She had organized one million AB Projects to ensure the AB Project was never needed. The old woman who spoke to her existed eternally, but she would not exist in Akane’s lifetime. Not this one. Against all odds, this was not the history with Radical-6.

But there was one part of the Radical-6 history that seemed more like destiny than chance.

“Her name is Lindsey. She’s five years old and she’s been living with her grandfather, who recently passed away, for two years. We believe an older couple like yourselves would be a more natural match for her because of this.”

Junpei reached for the photograph as soon as the social worker placed it on the table. His eyes widened and he brought it a little too close to his face (eyeglasses were still readily available in this history – she needed to talk him into getting them). Akane knew what he was seeing with just a side-eye – a pale-skinned, towheaded child wearing a green coat and a confident grin – and she knew why the picture made him feel nostalgic, even if he didn’t understand it himself. She was a little girl, and too old to be renamed, but she was likely the closest match to the boy in Akane’s memories that they would find.

“Wow,” said Junpei as he passed the photo to Akane, trying to hide the tug he felt at his heartstrings. “Cute kid.”

“What a sweetheart,” added Akane as she took a closer look. Lindsey even had brown eyes, a genetic rarity in blonds. The tiniest shift in a conception’s timing could unrecognizably alter a child’s genes; that two histories so drastically different from each other could produce two such similar people proved this was nothing short of fate.

“She was removed from her parents’ care as an infant,” the social worker continued, “but it’s important that you understand that raising any child who has spent any time in such an environment will be difficult, emotionally and financially.”

“Oh, no need to worry about finances,” said Akane with a wave of her hand.

“And we can handle any baggage,” said Junpei. He had a determination in his voice that hadn’t been there at the start of the appointment. “Right, Kanny?”

“Right.”

The social worker nodded, perhaps skeptical of their confidence, but satisfied enough for the time being. “I’m glad you feel that way,” she said as she stood. “Now, we can discuss the process going forward in a moment, but I have to step out to make a call first. Thank you for your patience, Mr. and Mrs. Tenmyouji.” The two of them thanked her and she left them alone in the office.

Akane had not hesitated in taking Junpei’s surname when they married. It was a superficial difference that reflected the depth of change between her and her ruthless future self. She didn’t want to be Akane Kurashiki anymore if she didn’t have to be. She didn’t want to be Zero. The old woman who spoke to her was no great loss to the world.

But had the Junpei from her visions of the future been better off? She loved Junpei as he was, of course, and that love had made him a much happier man in the many years they had been together. But his defeatist worldview was still baked into him, even if when he shared it, he shared it with a smile. In her visions, Junpei had again come to believe that things happened for a reason; he had found a purpose, something to be living for. It took a different kind of love to bring that out. That of a father.

She’d bought him a bolo tie to wear when meeting with the social workers. She fed him a line about making them appear more all-American; really, she just wanted to see him in a bolo tie. One day he’d wear it while meeting their child. All would be good with the world.

Now he fiddled with it anxiously. He picked up the photo of Lindsey with his free hand and gazed at it. “This feels right, Kanny,” he said. “Why does this feel so right?”

“This isn’t quite what either of us expected,” Akane fibbed. “Are you sure you wouldn’t still rather adopt a baby?”

“I was mostly pushing for it so we could use that name I loved,” Junpei admitted. “Guess it could still work as a nickname, though calling a kid who’s already fifty pounds ‘Quark’ doesn’t make that much sense.”

Akane still remembered the day he’d declared that his baby name of choice. They’d been nine years old, hanging out unsupervised at the library and looking up books far above their reading level. Junpei asked the librarian what the funny word he found in a physics book meant; the amused librarian used a baby as a metaphor to explain it, and Junpei hadn’t gotten that out of his head since.

Junpei slouched back in his chair and cleared his throat. “All these factors are coming together.  Waiting until now to do this, deciding to foster rather than adopt – both things you pushed for. It’s a little bit too perfect.”

It hadn’t been calculated like certain other attempts to recreate the future. She barely even realized she’d been doing it again – of course she wanted to find them a Quark of their own, but the steps to achieve that hadn’t been spelled out for her. When she made those choices, it had felt more like following a strong intuition, perhaps the kind that weaker espers felt. She hadn’t meant to manipulate him, and yet, he’d caught her doing just that.

Akane turned her head away from him in shame. Before the apology could leave her lips, however, his hand covered her own.

“I can’t say I understand why you do these things, Kanny. But I know you mean the best.” He sighed. “Is there an endgame here, though? Some tragic fate in store for Lindsey?”

Akane looked back at him. There was no anger in his expression, only genuine concern. She shook her head. “Not that I can see.”

“Well, I think it’s my turn to see something. However we found our way to her, this kid is going to be happy as hell.”

“How do you know?”

Junpei flashed a wide smile. “Because fated or not, we’re going to work hard to make sure of it.”

A purpose. Something to be living for. Already she was noticing a change. Her husband was now what the odds wanted him to be, only happier. Akane squeezed his hand and in commemoration of the huge step they were about to take, she said the one thing she had never been able to say to him in those far more likely histories: “I love you, Junpei.”

“I love you, Akane.”

Chapter Text

When Dio got teamed up with a pretty girl, it was the beginning of the end.

It wasn’t about trust for either of them, really. Luna had no choice but to ally. Anything less would be risking human lives, one of them innocent. And Dio already had an inkling of what Luna really was. Brother’s briefing had informed him there would be a robot inside the Rhizome, although it didn’t mention who it would be. Luna’s passivity in the infirmary was telling; she stared blankly at the puzzles with no intention of even trying to solve them, stepping aside politely when Dio or Quark offered to help. And it wasn’t like she was stupid. She was a repository of medical knowledge and answered every question Quark had about their surroundings with teacherly enthusiasm. But she wasn’t to interfere with the humans’ progress, was she? She would have been easy BP.

So why didn’t he take that easy BP? At the time, Dio had tried to create a false memory for himself: he’d been overpowered by a child. Yeah, that was it. Something far less humiliating than the truth.

His weakness for pretty girls had sabotaged him again. A sweet voice, an adorable face, and a charming dress had made him throw his mission early. Over his extended stay at the Rhizome, he’d come to accept this. Luna could get him to do the stupidest things, from allying in the AB Game to paying a visit to the GAULEM bay. The place gave him the creeps, with all those lifeless, skeletal robots hanging off the walls, staring ahead with glowing red eyes and looking like they could come to life at any second. The fact that they all looked identical reminded him a little too much of his Myrmidon brothers, and he was trying to put that behind him.

But when he received a phone call informing him “Moony” wanted “B.O.” to meet her in the GAULEM bay, he practically bolted there. The door was open already, and he worried he’d find Sigma working inside. But it was just Luna in there, laying peacefully on the workbench with her back towards him. There was a wire poking out from her neck. Was she powered off? Dio didn’t know how to turn her back on.

Luna heard him clicking his tongue in annoyance. “Dio?” she murmured, drowsily pushing herself up to sitting. Her hair was mussed and falling from its braids.

“Were you napping?” Dio chuckled.

“I was just resting my eyes,” Luna explained. “Recharging makes us sleepy.” She turned to face him with a smile and a horrifying visage that made Dio shout and step back.

“Fuck! What the hell is wrong with you?”

The scene before him was grotesque. Half of her face was gone – not gone, but pulled away, dangling off a hinge behind where her ear was supposed to be. Underneath was cold gray skull with an eyeball still stuck inside. Even her nose was missing, revealing a gaping socket in the center of her face. The left side of her face was still there, but next to the skull it only made her look more psychotic – only one of her eyes could blink, and when she tried to frown, the right side of her mouth stayed smiling.

No doubt in his mind – he never would have allied with her if she looked like this.

“I-I’m sorry!” said Luna. The right half of her jaw chattered shapelessly as she spoke. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, I just…”

Dio turned his head. Her voice was as soft and sweet as ever; maybe if he could just hear her, then he could keep his composure. “Why do you look like that?”

“Dr. Klim had to do maintenance. There’s a control panel on the side of my head, and he needed to remove my faceplate to get to it… Are you angry at me?”

There were tears in her voice. Fuck if that didn’t make him feel guilty. “No. No, I’m not angry.”

“You don’t hate me because I look like this?”

“What?” Incredulous, he turned back to her. Seeing her again made him jump involuntarily, but he took a breath to calm himself. “Of course I don’t hate you, Luna. What are you talking about?” As if to reassure her, he stepped forward and sat next to her on the bench. Really, he was hoping it would be easier for him to just see her left side, but when he looked at her, he could still see the inside of her hanging faceplate and the mess of artificial nerves and muscles that lined it. He put a hand to his mouth to suppress a gag.

“Good.” Luna flashed half of a melancholy smile. “I’m always so afraid of anyone besides Dr. Klim seeing me without ABT. But of all people, I thought you should know what I really look like.”

“And that’s why you called me down here.”

“Yes. I love and trust you, Dio. I hoped you would be able to accept me for who I am.” She placed a hand over his. It felt warm. Even though it was clearer now than ever that said warmth was artificial, the emotion and metaphorical warmth underlying it was real.

They were far from the two AB Game opponents who allied with each other based on technicalities. That Dio would never have allied with a creepy robot skeleton, but that Dio was a shallow son of a bitch. This Dio was smart enough to see that the kind and thoughtful woman he loved existed with or without ABT.

Her appearance was still shocking, but wouldn’t it be shocking to see anyone with half their face missing? He shut his eyes in preparation before placing a hand under her chin and gently turning her to face him directly. He kissed her on the bridge of her nose, just above the seam that normally connected her two faceplates, and she giggled, resting her forehead on his shoulder. He felt both warm skin and cool metal against him. A contradiction to be sure, but if anything was a sign of growth for him, it was his ability to accept contradictions.

Chapter Text

The rhythm speaks to him. He’s never been successful at sports, not that he’s ever given them a fair shake. He knows he doesn’t have the physique of a ballroom dancer, but damn if he might not have the heart of one. The steps they do are simple – they’ve only taken the three salsa courses, and he doesn’t want the potential heartbreak of trying too hard and failing. Even like this, he still puts his foot in the wrong place on occasion. But wherever he steps, it’s always in time. The beat becomes everything to him, his world, along with the heat of the club and the beautiful woman following one beat behind him.

Her perfume is fruity and it wafts over the couples surrounding them as they swap places. He lifts his arm to give her a twirl, and the red ruffles of her dress swish, the momentum pulling an involuntary laugh from her. She faces him again, the edge of her hairline glowing with sweat like a halo, and she smiles – truly. Genuinely!

Her joy overtakes the rhythm, becoming his all and everything. Vaguely, he senses the song ending; fueled by love, he takes the initiative to try something they had yet to learn in class – a dip. He plants a hand firmly on her back as he leans forward, one leg stepping back for stability. She whispers his name in surprise as her body becomes less perpendicular to the floor. He doesn’t quite have the upper body strength for a huge dip, but it’s impressive enough to the other couples what he is able to do. She regards the people glancing at them with a laugh, one he muffles with a kiss as the song comes to an end. The crowd cheers – for the DJ more than for them – and the two of them relish in their perfect moment.

And then her heel skids, sending her onto her back and pulling him down to the floor with her.

To make their relationship a thriving one, Eric has to work on not idealizing Mira so much. She is a human being, not an angel; she has flaws. And it’s up to him to recognize them, incorporate them into his vision of her, and keep loving her in spite of them.

She’s a murderer. But “clumsy” is a much easier flaw to get his head around.

Eric knows she’s not the type to get embarrassed. But Mira certainly seems… displeased with what has just happened. She sits at the table, back turned to him, with a pout as she thumbs at the frayed edges of the new tear in her dress, nursing it like a wound. He offers to go get her a drink.

“To make myself even less steady? Why don’t you get yourself a drink to make you dance a little worse?”

It takes her a moment. He stands there, grimacing, for several awkward seconds before she screws her eyes shut and sighs. “Sorry.”

Eric nods and smiles. He’s cut out alcohol, doing everything he can not to become his father. There’s no need for her to elaborate.

Accidental insensitivity is another flaw of Mira’s. It’s one Eric doesn’t feel like he needs to accept, however, because in its own way, it makes her that much easier to love. Because she’s trying. She’s trying to be more careful when she speaks to people and recognize when she makes mistakes.

He’s so proud of her.

He suggests they go home. As easy as it is to get lost in his own head when they’re dancing, standing still makes the club’s shouting throngs, stench of sweat, and skull-shattering music easily overwhelming. A genuine smile – the second that night – crosses her face and she says she thought he’d never ask. They gather their things and leave the club behind them. But just as they pass through the door into the chilly parking lot, Mira hesitates.

“Did you forget something?”

“I want to say something.” Mira’s expression is stiff, directed at the ground more than at him. “I’m proud of you.”

She doesn’t elaborate. Eric wishes she would this time; he did a lot tonight he wouldn’t usually. Going to a nightclub, dancing in front of strangers, not losing his shit when things went wrong. It would be nice to know what the positive feedback was for. But specificity in emotional matters was another weakness for Mira, and he won’t ask for more.

He simply says “Thanks,” and squeezes her hand. They walk to their car, the cold night air wicking the sweat from their bodies as their one perfect moment lingers within the building behind them.