Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sometimes, Ken Takakura was still astonished at what his life had become.

A bizarre new boost in self-esteem. Constant, lively chaos. Friends to walk home with in a chattering pack, effortlessly including him, like he was interesting and worthwhile - like he belonged there.

"Incredible," Sakata murmured to his left, chin propped pretentiously between thumb and forefinger. "Three rogue, handsome devils, and three astonishing beauties…"

And there was her.

Ahead, hair gleaming in the sunset, Momo Ayase laughed. She punched Vamola's arm - Aira reprimanded her sharply - then threw both of her hands into the air with a cackle.

"Still crushin' on Vam-vam, huh, Kinny?" Jiji flung an arm around Sakata's shoulders and tutted sympathetically.

"They are all worthy of my affections," he sighed dreamily. A second later, his eyes went wide as he registered too much male contact, and he shoved Jiji bodily away. Ken grinned, tearing his eyes away from Momo to watch their antics.

Jiji boomeranged back between them, playfully bonking Ken on the head. "What're you two doin' tonight? Ya wanna come get your butts whooped at my place?"

"I'll accept your challenge!" Sakata boomed at once.

Ken glanced back at the girls, hand jumping to his glasses. "Um - "

Ten paces ahead, Momo looked over her shoulder. A lock of unruly chestnut hair fell into her eyes.

"Okarun's comin' to my place," she called back.

His heart leapt.

They hadn't discussed it. Although, really, they never did, anymore. There was just sort of an assumption that on Saturday nights, he went home with her.

"Heh heh!" Jiji smirked, tousling Ken's hair violently.

"Gah, Jiji!"

"When will you tell me your secrets?" Sakata hissed.

"There aren't any - " Jiji slapped him on the shoulder, a little too hard; Ken staggered. "Jiji!"

"Sorry, sorry!" He leaned in conspiratorially. "Don't screw it up, okay, dude?"

"It's - there's nothing to screw up!" Ken insisted. "I just - I have dinner over there, we watch a movie, sometimes - sometimes I spend… the… night?" He petered out on a high-pitched whisper. That was too much information, wasn't it?

Sakata and Jiji stared at him.

"This is a regular rendezvous?" Sakata gasped.

"You're spendin' the night on a schedule?!" Jiji yelped. "At her place? Are you - are you two - "

"This is serious, Private. You are even more experienced than I ever imagined. I hope you're using protec - "

"Shut up!" Ken snarled, leaping forward to cover both of their idiotic mouths. "It's not like that!"

"What's not like that?"

"Nothing!" the three boys chorused, spinning around quickly to face Momo herself. Her eyes narrowed.

"Looks suspicious as hell. Don't it?" she added, glancing back to Aira and Vamola.

"Don't it!" Vamola agreed with glee. Aira rolled her eyes.

"See you guys Monday," she offered in a monotone, with an incongruously cheerful smile for Ken, before stalking out into the crosswalk. Vamola waved to them all with both hands, scampering after Aira.

"Monday! See you!"

"Byeee, Aira, Vamo-chan!"

"Goodbye, my sweet," Sakata whispered mournfully.

"She's going with Shiratori-san?" Ken asked Momo, trotting to catch up with her as she took off down the sidewalk again. Momo shrugged.

"Aira said somethin' bout wanting to take her shopping and stuff, and then Vamola's gonna spend the night. They asked if I wanna come, but…" Momo fiddled with a lock of hair, chin tilting back to watch purple clouds drift across the fiery sky.

A familiar heat warmed his face. Momo loved shopping.

But she'd still decided to spend her precious time with him, instead.

"Hey!" Her hand slipped up into the crook of his elbow - she tugged hard. "This way!"

"Huh?" The sudden heat of her skin through his coat was distracting. "Um, okay!" He glanced back to Jiji and Kinta, both watching the exchange with interest. "See you later!"

Jiji gave him two thumbs up, beaming. Sakata saluted. Momo looked back too, and promptly flipped them off before pulling Ken down a side street.

"They're such dorks!" she complained.

"They mean well," Ken said earnestly. She glanced over at him, grip tightening on his elbow.

"Soooo you didn't mind when they implied that we - ?" Her color heightened, and Ken's vanished.

"No!" He waved his free hand vigorously, as though he could shoo away the thought. "I mean, yes! I definitely do mind - that wasn't okay! I - I'm sorry you even heard that - they shouldn't assume those sorts of things!"

Momo smirked. "Bet ya wouldn't've told 'em to can it if I hadn't been right there."

Ken frowned. She couldn't seriously think he would let anyone talk about her that way. "Of course I would have."

She hummed and squeezed his elbow. "Yeah, yeah, okay. Anyway." Momo pulled him around another corner and pointed at a colorful sandwich board in the middle of the sidewalk. "Miko told me this new bookstore's got some crazy good sales, annnnd I got a new manga I wanna get into."

"Oh, okay!" Ken smiled brightly at her; Momo blinked and looked out at the street. "Do they have used stuff too?"

"Um, maybe?" Her hand slipped away as they approached the storefront, leaving his arm cold. "Tryna find something in particular?"

"Yeah." With a quick shuffle step, he darted ahead to open the door for her. "There's this out-of-print translation of a book on the MKUltra project that I've been trying to find - oh." A bell jangled overhead and he squinted, half-blinded by the shop's interior.

Momo peered in, then stifled a giggle at his crestfallen expression. The "bookstore" was papered wall-to-wall with anime posters, plastered across neon green and pink paint; half of the space was a cafe, apparently, and the other half seemed to be almost entirely gleaming, brand-new manga and pop fiction.

"I was kinda wondering what Miko was doin' in a bookstore," she admitted, weaving her way around a display piled high with cutesy anime merch. "Sorry, Okarun. I guess they won't have your conspiracy nutcase stuff here."

"N-nutcase!" he spluttered, letting the door clang shut behind him in his haste to follow her. "You can't mean that, after everything we've seen?"

"Eh. I've seen ghosts and aliens," Momo said calmly. She ran a glittery pink nail along the glossy spines of a vampire romance Rin had thoroughly summarized during her first visit to the clubroom last week. "But I don't have any evidence for all these government coverup shenanigans - "

"Why d'you - !" An employee passing with an armful of books turned curiously towards his raised voice and Ken dropped his volume to a harsh whisper, shoving his glasses hard up his nose. "Why do you think the general population doesn't know about aliens?!"

"Nah, nah, I believe that part! It's like, the stuff about givin' people psychic powers and allat!"

"You have psychic powers!"

"Hell yeah I do!" Momo grinned at him and disappeared down another tight aisle. Her voice drifted back. "But that's just cuz I'm a badass."

Ken paused to let a gaggle of middle school girls pass between them, then rounded the aisle to find her deep in contemplation over a… romance series. His mouth opened automatically to tease her - Momo had always made such a point about being tough, liking action, thrillers and cop dramas and supernatural horror - but… she was blushing. She tilted her head, letting her hair fall between them as a shield. He spun away to stare down a tiny illustration of a dragon, feigning a sudden interest in high fantasy.

"Um, okay, I'm good," she chirped, pulling his gaze back. "Gonna, uh, go check out!" The pink cover was tucked tight to her side as she hurried off and out of sight to the checkout counter.

Curious, he made his way over to her new interest and snorted at the title. Our Mutual Destruction. There was another copy of Volume One, so he pulled it out to examine more closely. Despite the color of the binding and the sappy cover art, he didn't think it seemed overly saccharine like some of those sorts of stories. Reading through the summary and flipping through the pages, actually, it seemed kind of… good. The art was sharp and stylish. An unlikely relationship between the two leads was at the core of the story, but also they were members of opposing factions struggling to survive in an apocalyptic wasteland, and - spoiling himself by flipping through the pages - it looked like the heroine started an all-out war by the end of volume one. Which, really, explained exactly what Momo had been drawn to.

Impulsively, he curled the second copy of Volume 1 into his arm and crept to the end of the aisle, sticking his head out to check for Momo.

She'd made her way over to the cafe counter, fluorescent pink bag swinging at her elbow while she bounced adorably on the balls of her feet, examining the menu on the wall. He smiled. Typical.

Watching her surreptitiously, he paid at the bookstore side, thanked the amused cashier in a mumble, and hurried over to a table by the door to pack the manga away in his bag. There was hardly any space in there; too many damn magazines! He shuffled his textbooks around, regretfully folded a copy of Super Mystery in half, and then it almost fit - but -

"Ooo-karuuun!"

Too slow.

Guilty, he looked up. Momo was beaming, a coffee in one hand and something more like a milkshake in the other.

"It's your favorite, hot tar in a cup!"

"Oh, uh, thank you, Ayase-san!" He took the coffee gingerly and set it on the table, resuming his frantic attempt to jam the manga into the bag. One pretty eyebrow arched in suspicion.

"What'd you get, huh?"

"N-nothing!" he gasped, shoving it out of sight. A devilish grin crawled over her face.

"Ooooh, Okaruuun! Didja get somethin' dirty?"

"No!" Ken zipped his bag, slung it over one shoulder - paused to carefully pick up her thoughtful gift of coffee - then slammed his way out of the bookstore.

"If ya don't tell me, I'm gonna start using my imaginaaaaa-tion," she sang, sauntering after him into the chilly twilight. Ken stared up at the early stars beginning to twinkle above them. If he believed in gods, he might have prayed to them for patience. "I bet it's some of that tentacle shit - ooh! Or like - those weird self-published books about fuckin' a T-Rex or - "

"Ayase-san!" he groaned. "Please!"

"C'mon, Okarun, just tell me!" She slipped her arm through his again and sagged into his side dramatically. "I won't laugh, sweeeaaar."

"Why don't you tell me what you bought?" he grumbled, glancing over at the hand clutching her frozen monstrosity; the neon bag was looped around her wrist.

"Tch!" She dug a reproving nail into his forearm and straightened up. "Butthole!"

"Ow - what?" Ken grinned at her. "Maybe you're the one with dinosaur erotica, how should I know?"

"No no no, noooo no." Momo shook her head emphatically, withdrawing her arm again. "Heeere, take this." She thrust her coffee into his free hand, then fumbled for a moment before producing her copy. She held it up as they passed under a streetlamp, just for an instant, before shoving it back into the bag, her face the same color as the binding. "It's like, not my usual thing, so it's kinda embarrassing, I guess."

"It's not embarrassing. There's nothing wrong with trying something new." He passed her coffee back. Momo brushed her fingers through her bangs and gave him a quick, searching look. Ken hesitated, his own coffee halfway to his lips. "What?"

"Soooo, your turn, duh? Spill." She smirked, cheeks still pink, and sucked obnoxiously on her straw.

"Oh, um, right. Well..." He hesitated, then held his coffee out for her to take. Hands free, he flipped his bag to the front and rooted around to pull out his own copy.

Momo stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of it.

"You're not fuckin' serious." Ken stopped too, tightening his grip on the manga nervously. "Okarun, why the hell would you buy that?"

"I trust your opinion?" he lied, busying himself zipping up his backpack. No point trying to fit the shopping bag in again now that the secret was out.

"You don't trust my opinion in manga!" she snorted. "The last time I lent you somethin', you called it blah!"

"Blasé, actually."

"Oh, excuse me!" She thrust his coffee back and waved her hand dismissively. "French for blah, so sorry, Professor Dork!" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, then stormed ahead. He followed, keeping pace; Momo glowered. "What's your real reason? So you can make fun of me?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Ken shrugged, still looking down at the manga's cover. "I was kind of… curious? After I saw you looking at it? And it honestly doesn't look half bad, so, I thought…" He cast her a shy glance. "Maybe we could read it… together?"

They passed under a streetlamp. Momo's eyes were wide, glowing brighter than the bookstore's bags in the golden glare.

"You serious?"

Ken scratched nervously at his cup's cardboard sleeve with one finger, itching to push his glasses up, but both hands were occupied. "Y-yeah. I thought maybe it'd be fun."

Shadows overtook her face again, but not before he caught a glimpse of her radiant smile.

"Okay. I mean. If you wanna. But I - y'know - that was kinda… dumb?"

Coffee sloshed out of the cup and scalded his hand. Distracted, he choked out, "I'm sorry?"

"Gimme that." Momo snatched his copy of Our Mutual Destruction and riffled it open to a page somewhere in the middle, a full spread aerial view of the wasteland. She held the book aloft between them. "See?"

Ken blinked at her, wiping his hand hastily on his pants. Momo sighed loudly.

"Look, doofus! C'mere!"

Nonplussed, Ken stepped towards her. Momo huffed again, rolling her eyes. "Cloooser."

His shoulder bumped into hers, but she didn't pull away. Their pace had slowed to a crawl.

Momo was scarlet again; Ken was sure he could match the shade himself.

She thrust the manga up higher, eclipsing their view of the street ahead. "Seeee? We coulda just read it this way, and talked about it while we're readin', and you coulda saved 600 yen - "

"You - you would've been okay reading the whole volume like this?" Ken asked, throat rapidly constricting. "This… close?"

"Yeah, totally!" But her voice was much higher than usual, a nervous squeak. She snapped the volume shut and shoved it back into his hand; he stared down at the intertwined main characters, pulse thudding too fast in his ears.

The tip of her shoulder jammed abruptly into his, sharp, but teasing. A smirk was back on her face. "What, is it freakin' you out?" she teased.

Ken stole another glance at her.

Momo's lips quirked up in that relentless taunt, but… it didn't quite meet her eyes. They weren't bright and joyful at his expense like they usually were. No, instead, they almost seemed worried.

Much as she framed it like her usual teasing, she really wanted an answer. The more time he spent with her, the better he got at reading between the lines.

Ken shook his head. "Of course not, Ayase-san."

She let out a breathy laugh; her lips relaxed into a warm smile.

"So, tell me about Our Mutual Destruction," he prompted, after they'd walked the rest of the block in silence.

"Ah, well - Aira recommended it, actually…"

Momo launched into the story, gesticulating wildly with her free hand. Ken listened, glad to have loosened the tension between them for a moment. Talk turned to Aira herself, after that, and how she and Momo were starting to spend a lot more time together; then they discussed the team's training regimen, then whether Mr. Shrimp would be interested in human holidays, and then what sorts of things they should do (implicitly, together) over winter break.

Ken still found it incredible that speaking to her was so effortless. He continued to struggle talking casually with the others sometimes, even Jiji, but with Momo? They could talk about the most boring, mundane topics, and he would be fascinated, totally engaged. It was her voice, hypnotic and bursting with personality - her smile, her sparkling rosewood-pink eyes - her silly hands, flapping and punching for emphasis while she spoke. And it was the silence, too, when he was speaking. The way she watched him with rapt attention, like there could be nothing else worth noticing in the entire universe. That look stoked an inferno of emotion in him that he never would have thought himself capable of feeling. It still caught him off guard, as astonishing the hundredth time as it had been the first.

He didn't think he would ever cease to be amazed that she seemed so happy when they were together.

Meeting Okarun had been the start of so much fucking trouble.

Pervy aliens, cranky ball-loving grannies, nutso cultists, space invaders set on global domination…

Yeah. They were all problems that stemmed from him, pretty much, at least as far as Momo Ayase's involvement with them went. Her life would've been simple and easy if she hadn't stepped between him and his idiot bullies that day.

But on the dark, cold walks home, Okarun's warmth washed over her in gentle waves. Whenever they just talked like this, dropped all the teasing and silly antics, time stretched in the most pleasant way; his sweet voice was the loveliest panacea, soothing her manic energy into a trusting stupor as she hung on every thoughtfully chosen word. An expressive hand flicked outwards in the suggestion of a firework and beautiful, long-lashed eyes flicked up to hers with a shy smile. "Maybe we can all go together?"

Whatever. For Okarun, she'd raze entire planets into dust.

She reached up to tap his elbow affectionately. Watching the local shrine's little fireworks display, together on New Year's eve, sounded like a dream; she wanted to uninvite the others at once, but then, she knew that having so many good friends now meant the world to him. No need to be selfish. If she knew her boy - and she did - he'd probably spend most of the night at her side anyway.

Maybe enough of it that she could sneak a kiss. Just under the pretense of celebrating the new year and all.

So Momo smiled back. "Sounds good to me! Have you been before?"

His hand fell back to his side, eyes softening with undisguised pleasure at her enthusiasm. "Not since I was really little." Okarun looked up at the night sky, as though picturing the fireworks they'd see together next month.

Momo studied him, cautious and adoring, as they skirted the edge of the Ayase residence. His childhood was still a mystery to her; try as she might, she had yet to gain access to his home, or to really shake anything out of him other than a few casual mentions of his dad. But her Okarun was delicate, more fragile than he would have wanted her to realize, so she didn't press him on it. He'd spent most of his life with his walls up, so afraid of rejection and what other people thought. It was admirable how much of himself he'd shared with her already, really. Eventually, she was sure, he'd let her see everything.

Until then, she seized on these tiny glimmers of his life and tucked them away tight in her mind. Precious puzzle pieces she'd reassemble someday. He'd sprained an ankle in fourth grade - his dad took him to the art museum once - there had been a family dog named Mochi - he wanted to play baseball as a kid but he'd been too afraid to ask - and now, he'd gone to see fireworks when he was little.

Under the torii gate, Momo tore her eyes away from him at last, tilting her head curiously at the house's darkened windows. Okarun stopped beside her, one hand rising through the dark to reposition his glasses.

"Is Seiko-san out?" he prompted.

Compulsively, her grip tightened on the empty frappuccino cup; the clear plastic popped.

"Oh, shit." She bit her lip, then giggled nervously. "Shit, I totally forgot. Uh - Gran's workin' out of town this weekend - her 'n the cat left this morning."

"Oh," Okarun echoed. His face fell, illuminated only by the silver of the moon. "I'll head back home, then."

"What?" Momo turned quickly to him. Inexplicable panic spiked in her chest. "Whaddaya mean, why?"

His eyes were coal-black in the darkness, but they were still so gentle when they met hers. "Ayase-san, it wouldn't be appropriate."

"Appropriate!" She snorted derisively. "Like you'd do anything!"

"Of course I wouldn't, but still," he mumbled. It was the total truth, she knew; never, ever, would her Okarun purposefully do anything that might make her uncomfortable, or anything that could be misconstrued as disrespectful by her grandmother. Even though part of her wished he would.

"It'll be fine," she said bracingly, grabbing at his elbow again and tugging him forward. "Gran trusts you." She laughed at the thought of it. "Honestly, she prolly trusts you waaay more than me. She'd be totally glad you were stayin' here while she's gone."

Part of him wanted to refuse her. She couldn't bring herself to look - she didn't want to see him working through the decision in real time - but she could feel his reluctance in the stiffness of his arm, hear it in the drag of his sneakers up onto the pavement. He sighed, like the weight of the world rested on his decision. But he must have wanted to stay, too, badly enough that he caved before they even reached the front door. "No funny business," he warned.

Momo squeezed his arm, delighted, and turned to beam at him. "From me? Never!"

She shucked the door open and pulled him into the shadows.

"Do you want me to run back to town for takeout, or something?" came his voice from her left. She groped around in the dark and finally found the pull string for the lamp. Okarun blinked dolefully at her, shoes already dangling from one hand.

"Mm, nah, I think Gran left some stuff." Momo kicked off her loafers, dropping her bags at the foot of the stairs. Okarun bent down to rearrange her shoes in a straight line with his.

She knew her sloppiness bothered him enough that he'd have to fix it, but she did it every time. There was something so irresistibly domestic about it - him quietly tidying up after her - that she couldn't resist the temptation. It made her feel cared for.

But bigger messes - she'd had to start actually keeping her room clean lately so he wouldn't spend his whole visit playing maid, because those bothered him, too. Like how he absolutely could not abide her desk being in disarray; after he left on Sundays, without fail, crumpled papers and eraser dust magically vanished, notebooks were stacked in one perfect quadrant, and pens were arranged neatly in a cheerful yellow mug pilfered from downstairs. Normally, when Gran was out, she'd fix whatever leftovers there were and eat them in bed like a slob, but honestly? Even the suggestion probably would've given Okarun a heart attack. So she flipped on the lights and tramped across the dining room to get out the cushions.

"Should I start some rice?" Okarun called from the kitchen.

"Knock yourself out!"

Momo hesitated, looming over the chabudai with the purple cushions clutched tight to her chest.

Usually, on Saturday nights, Okarun sat across from her, next to Vamola, and the grannies sat at the opposite ends of the table.

Nobody else here tonight, though.

But was it better to sit next to him, where maybe maybe she could steal a few extra touches, or better to sit across from him, so she could look at him more easily, or - or should they just sit in their usual spots? No, sitting diagonally would definitely be weird -

She dropped the cushions side-by-side and scurried to help in the kitchen.

Gran's meal plan was just a simple chicken curry, but she'd made enough to feed four or five people. "She totally expected you to come over," Momo commented smugly, putting the pot on a burner.

"She probably thought Vamola-san would be here too." Okarun frowned, turning predatorily towards a single dirty mug in the sink.

"What, you think Vamola's a good chaperone?" Momo snickered. "If anything, that just puts you alone with two poor innocent girls instead. Twice as inappropriate."

"Are you trying to get me to leave?" he asked. But he smiled to himself as he soaped up the mug. With a little shake of his head, he mumbled, "Innocent. Hmph."

Momo giggled, pulling down a wooden spoon to stir. "Wanna start a movie during dinner? It's legal without Gran here."

Okarun hummed. "Ken-san?"

"Station." She grinned. "You haven't seen that one yet."

"Lucky me," he said dryly, still smiling.

Not for the first time, Momo found herself thinking, He's such a good -

And the thought had to end there, incomplete and impossible.

Because what was he?

Okarun glanced up and met her fond gaze as he reached for the dish towel. His lips parted, surprised, maybe, to catch her watching him. Dark eyes hung on hers, just a fraction of a second too long - and very much not long enough.

"Watch the curry," she instructed, holding out the spoon. "I'mma go get the DVD."

Okarun's fingers dragged across her palm as they curled around the handle. He turned away silently, but Momo didn't miss the red of his ears. An embarrassing accident, or…?

Gnawing on her lip, Momo pivoted and darted towards the safety of the stairs. If she moved fast enough, maybe the electrifying tingle in her hand wouldn't spread.

Definitely not just friends.

She wished she had the courage to try naming it.

Okarun brought out their plates while she fiddled with Gran's TV. She saw him pause, obviously taking in the new seating arrangement. To his credit, he didn't make any comment - just put down their dinner and returned to the kitchen for drinks and silverware.

They sat quietly, at first, but as always happened lately, Momo found that she couldn't pay much attention to the Ken Takakura on the television. By the time Ken-san had packed his wife and kid away on the train, she was lost in observation of Okarun's careful scoops, perfectly half rice, half curry, every single time. His uniform crinkled just slightly when he bent his arm, each movement measured and polite. He kept his back ramrod straight.

"Y'know." Momo leaned over and prodded hard at his waist, eliciting a yelp of surprise; Momo giggled. "Ya don't gotta sit seiza-style when it's just me, y'know? Fuckin' relax."

"It's just habit," he said defensively, but he shifted back, crossing his legs like she had instead. Okarun looked down at her lap, like he was checking to make sure he'd relaxed correctly. "Feels odd to sit like this at the table."

The fabric of his pants scratched against her bare knee, just the faintest whisper of a touch. She wondered if he even noticed. With a sharp shake of her head (drawing a curious glance), she leaned forward and forced herself to watch the movie.

She'd managed to shovel down most of her curry by the time the long-winded opening credits were done.

"This isn't one of his best," she sighed loudly. "I don't really like the premise."

"Then why are we watching it?" Okarun grumbled, eyes fixed on the TV.

"You haven't seen it."

Okarun paused, his last spoonful halfway to his mouth. "But if you don't like it, then… why do you want me to see it?"

"You gotta see all of Ken-san's stuff." Momo held both hands out towards the actor, leaping into his cop car. "It's like research."

"On what?"

"On me?" She swallowed, stealing a glance at him.

Okarun's eyes flicked away fast, refocusing on the TV. He grunted in acknowledgement, a charming shade of pink creeping up his neck. "I don't know what's going on, though."

"This part's not important," Momo said dismissively through a final mouthful of rice, waving away the wife with her spoon. "Honestly I think my biggest issue with this one's that they don't let Ken-san or really anyone else talk much? So it's kind of hard to get attached to anyone, or understand why they're all so worked up - "

"She is talking right now. Not that I can hear her," he said pointedly.

"But what's she got such a crowd for? Why do they care?"

"The guy that got shot was her husband's friend, right? And they were both cops? That's obviously newsworthy." Okarun pursed his lips with disapproval. "Perhaps, if you paid attention, then…"

"But that still don't tell me who he is!"

Okarun's spoon rattled onto the plate. "Ayase-san. If you watched the movie instead of talking about it - "

"Bah, I've seen it plenty of times, I know everything I need to." She flapped a dismissive hand.

"But I haven't! You do this every time!"

"It adds flavor," she pouted.

"Maybe if you said something insightful or constructive." He turned to face her; his knee pushed unapologetically into hers. "You usually just babble about how cool Ken-san is."

"I - I mean!" Momo flung her arm towards the screen again. Ken-san was suddenly on a boat grinning - a total tonal shift she had never cared for. "He's the only good part of this movie! The writing is sort of so-so and - "

"Are you sure about that, Ayase-san?" Okarun adjusted his glasses. "Have you ever actually paid attention when Ken-san wasn't in the frame, because I thought the first part was kind of moving - or the bits of it I heard, anyway."

Momo dropped her arms to the table, irritated. "Not my fault I'm distracted. Ken Takakura's the most gorgeous dude there is." But her eyes didn't leave Okarun's; a flush of heat tingled in her neck at the half-accidental implication.

Okarun's lashes fluttered. Was she imagining things, or was he drifting nearer? His voice was definitely softer. Lower. "Y-yeah, if you say so. But I'm not into guys."

He was too close, bottomless coffee-brown eyes fixed unflinchingly on her own. Momo giggled, too high, too nervous.

"Oooh?" She leaned sharply away in feigned surprise. "You're into girls, Okarun?"

"Huh? Yes? What - " Okarun's face blanched. "Did - did you think I'm not?"

Momo laughed again, real this time. "Dork."

His brow furrowed. "Ayase-san, you can't just - "

"'Course I know you're into girls, dummy." Trying to ignore the rush of heat in her face, she nudged her knee back into his. "I think that's obvious."

Okarun gulped, jaw setting and tightening, then dropped his eyes. He reached across her for the remote. "W-well - anyways - let's, um - let's just rewind it, because - "

"No waaay!" Momo whined, latching onto his arm and tugging it back. "You're not makin' me suffer through all that again, we just got to the good stuff!"

He lunged forward and snatched the remote, then twisted sharply away - Momo snarled.

"I just - " Okarun leaned far forward, dodging her. "I just want to hear the exposition again!"

"Not on your life, motherfucker!" She leapt onto his back, snatching wildly for his hand. Expanding bone and muscle groaned under her in a familiar warning.

"Momo-chan," he growled. It might've sounded like a threat, if he weren't Okarun. The remote was drifting out of her reach as his arm lengthened grotesquely.

"No powers!" Momo barked. She punched him in the shoulder. "If you gotta resort to that, you might as well admit defeat!"

With a long-suffering sigh, Okarun shrank back; his neck was burning crimson, and she slung her other arm around it in a loose chokehold. Too brave - maybe a little evil - Momo curled her hand against his collar, nails scraping lightly against his throat. She leaned forward, pressing herself tight to his back; she brought her mouth to his ear.

He was suddenly stock-still under her.

"Okarun," she murmured. His breath caught in the smallest gasp. "Didn't figure you for a cheater."

The remote clattered to the floor - they stared down at it together.

She should really let go. She'd won, after all.

Momo squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to bury her face in his neck. She wondered whether he could feel her heart hammering against his spine.

Almost hoped he could.

He was so still under her. The only part of him that moved was the outstretched arm, relaxing and pulling back now that he'd lost the battle anyways. Her thumb caught at the cuff of his sleeve and she held fast to it on pure instinct.

"A-ayase-san," he whimpered. "W-would you…"

Her eyes popped open. It was like he'd flipped a switch; panicked, Momo flung herself back, landing half on her cushion with a thud and nearly flipping onto the tatami mat. Okarun turned quickly at the sound and leaned forward, hands fluttering nervously over her.

"Sorry!" they both yelped reflexively.

Wide brown eyes searched hers for a moment, flustered and worried - and then a shaky laugh broke out of him. It startled a chuckle out of her, too. Delicately, his fingers brushed across her shoulders, smoothing her sweater. Then - much to her disappointment - they withdrew.

"Sorry," he repeated breathlessly. "That… got a little out of hand."

"Um… nah, no worries," Momo said with a nervous smile. Silly boy, apologizing for a situation she'd almost entirely manufactured on her own.

Okarun scratched at the back of his neck. He was still scanning her, the same way he did after real fights, as though he expected that she might've gotten hurt during their little tussle. "Well, um… all that notwithstanding…" He jerked his head in the direction of the TV. "Like I was trying to say, I do kind of think this one is good, actually? So… can we start over, so I can…" His eyes darted away, then back to hers. "So I can do my research right?"

Momo sighed, heart fluttering. Hard to refuse such a sweet request, especially when he put those giant doe eyes to good use.

"Let's get everything cleaned up, and then we can go upstairs like usual."

He smiled. "Okay, Ayase-san."

The first time Momo had dragged Okarun into her room - or, the second time, really, but the first time for a normal reason - he had been so anxious, so red in the face, that she'd been positive he was about to have a stroke. The boy had sat stiff as a board in her beanbag chair and refused to look anywhere but at the TV screen for the entirety of Golgo 13.

Now, though…

Okarun dragged the spare futon out of her closet and dropped it unceremoniously onto the floor with a grunt, then turned back to pick out something to sleep in from her oversized sweaters. Didn't even ask permission. He bundled up a white hoodie under his arm, grabbed up the sweatpants she'd laid out for him, and headed to the bathroom to change without so much as a hint of nervousness.

Like he just belonged there.

Smiling at the idea, Momo got dressed herself, started up the TV, and flipped off the lights. She was settling into her bed when Okarun knocked tentatively at the door.

"C'mon," she called impatiently.

He placed his folded uniform neatly on her desk, then joined her, scooting across the bed so his back was against the wall too.

"Ready for round two?" Momo grinned.

Okarun smiled at her reflexively. "Are you going to be quiet?"

"Maaaybe." Momo stuck out her tongue and clicked play.

She tried - she really, really did.

Sad orchestral music. Ken-san lookin' fine. Sad wife, sad kid, sad shooting, Okarun an inch away, another sad wife, Okarun's steady breathing, guns clicking and clacking, Okarun, Ken-san back on the boat, Okarun, Okarun, Okarun.

"Y'know, I never really got the point of sending the wife and kid away," Momo whispered, unable to stop herself. She tugged a petal pink pillow into her lap and squeezed. "Like, was it just cuz of the Olympic shooting thing? Why couldn't he just do both? They really did Ken-san dirty, starting him off as a grade-A asshole like that."

"Mhmmm." Okarun turned towards her with an exasperated smile. "Ayase-san…"

"I mean!" Her eyes darted between his. "Whaddaya think? You're a dude, would you do that?"

She already knew the answer.

"Of course not." His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he looked back at the TV. Momo tracked the motion of his Adam's apple as he swallowed.

She'd expected him to stay silent, return all his focus on the movie he'd so adamantly claimed he wanted to watch without distraction. But then -

"If I'm ever lucky enough to get married, then… she comes first, no matter what."

Butterflies, anxious and obsessed, erupted inside her. The sensation bordered on unbearable.

He's not talking about you, she chastised herself firmly. He's talking about some chick he probably hasn't even met yet.

Momo bumped her shoulder into his, desperate for the small relief touch might bring. "That'll be a lucky girl," she said brightly, heart breaking at the thought.

I wish it was me.

Ken knew the silence wouldn't last. It never did with Momo.

Not that he minded.

He liked to tease her, pretend that the movies were more interesting than her commentary (or totally unrelated diatribes), but… truth was, Momo Ayase was much more worthy of attention than the actor he shared his name with.

Ken worried, though, that she could hear the rapid thud of his pulse over the quiet, emotional opening of the film. Talking about marriage with her was terrifying. Thrilling, too. She couldn't know how often he'd fantasized about marrying her, right?

"Y'know," she went on, eyes gleaming in the reflected light of the TV. "We won't get to hang out all the time once you find… her."

He studied her guarded expression. "I'm not looking," he assured her. "So…"

With a little nod, she turned back to the movie again.

Determinedly staring at the screen, like she could pretend it was an accident if she wasn't looking at him, Momo scooted closer. She rested her head on his shoulder, heavy and comforting.

It had happened before - almost all the times they'd sat in her bed together for the last two months, actually. But it electrified him every time, sweet apple blossom shampoo flooding his nose, warm breath ghosting across his collarbone.

They watched Ken-san reload his gun.

"Why not?" she asked suddenly. "Why aren't you looking?"

"Why would I want to?" His hand itched for hers. Instead, he dug his fingers into the joggers she'd loaned him. "I'm perfectly happy."

"But you could be happier forreal," Momo insisted, arms tightening around her pillow. "You don't think it'd be nice, havin' a girlfriend you can…" She faltered, dropping the idea halfway. Ken stared down at her waist, her legs, pressing against his own.

"What about you? You haven't tried dating in what, seven months?" He took a shallow breath. "You… you could be happier, too."

She snorted. "Oh, shut up."

Ken couldn't resist a small smile. "You don't miss having a boyfriend?"

"Nope. It sucked. Or, I mean, my ex sucked, anyway." Momo nuzzled just a bit nearer; her hair tickled his neck.

"So then, what makes you think I'd enjoy having a girlfriend?"

Her leg shifted against his while she considered the question. "You like havin' someone to talk to," she said eventually, thoughtful and quiet. "Someone you can take care of, and give attention to… be close with."

Ken listened breathlessly.

"You're kinda transparent, y'know? You get so happy when people're nice to ya. Just imagine having yourself a cute little girlfriend, doin' sweet shit all the time." A dry chuckle choked out of her.

"I don't think I want someone who's just nice all the time." Ken gritted his teeth, grappling with an overwhelming urge to wrap his arm around her. "I want someone who's… real. I… I think it's most important that it's just… someone who understands me."

Momo hummed softly. "Erosuke, huh?"

"Heh!" Ken snorted. Trying his best not to overthink it, he rested his cheek against her head, closing his eyes at the sensation of her impossibly soft hair against his skin. "Somehow, I don't think that would work out."

Ken-san was talking to a young woman in a bar. Or, rather, she was talking while he listened stoically.

"You really ain't interested in Aira?" Momo whispered. Ken huffed.

"Not even for a minute."

"How 'bout… hm… the class rep?"

He frowned into her hair. "…Why?"

"Y'know," Momo mumbled. "She's kinda like you. Nerdy in a cute way and all."

Like me. Nerdy…In a cute way?

As in, he was cute?

Did she mean that? Did she realize what she'd said?

Over the plush fabric of her pillow, Momo suddenly grasped at her own wrist, clutching so tightly her knuckles paled under the flickering light of the television. The weight of her head lessened, like she was bracing herself to pull away.

"Ayase-san." Ken exhaled softly. "You think I'm… nerdy?"

The tension melted with a relieved giggle; she curled into him, hiding her eyes against his shoulder.

"So fuckin' nerdy."

He looked at his hand again, useless on his leg. Just an inch from hers.

What was he waiting for? There couldn't be a stronger signal short of her outright confessing feelings for him, and he… he didn't want that. He wanted to be a man, for her. Be her real-life Ken Takakura, confess and sweep her off her feet and -

"Okarun?"

He cleared his throat, refocusing on her unusually gentle voice. "Yeah."

"Don'tcha think, maybe… you're only happy right now cuz like… you're not letting yourself want more?"

She knew him too well.

Yeah, he'd spent seventeen years biting back desires and even needs. Until he met Momo, it had never felt okay to want.

He wanted to be perfect for her. He wanted everything it was possible to have with another person, with her. But…

No matter how many nights she spent tucked into his side, no matter how many battles they fought or conversations they had or dinners they shared, he worried there might always be a trace of that insurmountable fear - that he'd never be brave enough to say it outright.

"I think," he started, slowly, "I guess… I'm scared that if I ask for more, I'll lose what I have."

Momo exhaled tremulously. Her breath was warm against his neck. "What if the 'more' was really just… somethin' you've already got anyway?"

Ken blinked, once, twice.

She couldn't know.

Could she?

"What…" His throat contracted harshly around nothing at all. "What do you mean?"

He could feel her mouth through the hoodie, twisting into a smile. "Oh, I dunno," she hummed. "What do you think I mean?"

She knows.

God, he wanted to say it. He had to say it.

"Ayase-san…"

Her name was a cracked whisper, broken in his mouth.

The words twisted and writhed in his throat; his muscles tensed like he was heading towards the fight of his life. Three little words, that was all. He could do it. He could give her that. Momo was clever and brave, funny and kind, and she should know beyond a shadow of a doubt how he worshipped her. She deserved it.

He was paralyzed with fear.

"Don't worry about it, Okarun."

The whisper was kind. There wasn't even a trace of anger, or disappointment or sadness; just infinite, understanding acceptance.

Momo knew him. She knew he wasn't strong enough to say it yet. She hadn't been lying when she called him transparent.

He wanted to apologize, cry, promise to try again. Instead, he slipped his arm back between them. Actions could be easier than words, sometimes. His hand hovered, slinking between the wall and the small of her back. Was it actually okay, though, to touch her?

Momo's fingers wrapped suddenly around his wrist, yanking it forward. She jammed his palm onto her waist.

"Ayase-san!" he yelped.

"Sorry," she whispered, without a hint of remorse. "You're warm, y'know? Feels… nice."

Momo dragged her arm up across his chest, fingers curling protectively over her own chin. Luminous pink eyes tilted up, intensely locked with his own - they came closer, closer, until her forehead pressed gently against his, bangs plastered between them. Her dark eyelashes dusted the lenses of his glasses; a shaky, disbelieving breath slipped out of him. Momo was blushing furiously, a gorgeous dusky red that might be his new favorite color.

Her arm trembled, just slightly, where it lay across his chest. Beneath it, his heart beat a frantic rhythm.

He wanted to kiss her. Needed to. So, so badly. His lips parted, aching.

But he also couldn't breathe - and he didn't dare move, or he might break the spell she'd cast.

Endless glittering eyes dragged torturously down. His glasses tapped the bridge of her nose.

All he had to do was meet her. Momo had done the real work already, as usual. The question didn't even need to be spoken out loud. After a long moment, her gaze drifted back up to his. So open and vulnerable. So perfect.

The back of her hand grazed his jaw. Implicit permission.

Just kiss her.

Her eyes pleaded for him to take the lead, just this once.

She's waiting for me.

Just an inch away.

"It - it does feel nice," he murmured, instead.

Momo's expression softened; a precious giggle fell between them.

She waited for one last, long moment.

Her courage flagged, then. Her eyes flickered, quick blinks grounding her in the reality of his failure, and her brows lowered. With a sigh, she retreated, lip quivering; disappointed eyes turned to the screen once more.

Even still, she nestled her cheek back against his shoulder. Her bangs caught under his jaw, mussed and tangled.

"See." She sounded hoarse. "That's - that's why you need a girlfriend. Maybe… Vamola might…"

"No." The rejection was gentle, but it carried a note of finality. He tugged at her waist, urging her closer still. An apology he couldn't speak aloud. "Ayase-san, I don't want any of them."

Only you.

Her hand crept lower to rest across his collarbone.

"…Good," she breathed.

They sat in silence for an eternity, Ken lost in an endless analytical loop of what he should have done, but still hyper-aware of her hand, of his own. New touches. Sensations to be memorized and cherished forever. Another boundary broken between them, in the best way.

At some point, the movie ended.

Ken waited for her to shift away, to declare that they'd watch another, or to decide it was time for bed. Tentatively, he stroked his thumb across the hem of her sweater.

"Ayase-san?" he prompted.

The sound of her steady, slow breathing was his only response, and it made his heart ache. She trusted him. This perfect girl, who'd been hurt in so many ways, felt safe enough to fall asleep in his embrace.

As slowly as possible, Ken disengaged his arm, cradled her shoulders, and lowered her down. He shifted forward to coax the other pillow under her messy hair, then paused, bracing himself with hands on either side of her head.

She was so unfairly beautiful.

His fingers dug into her pink sheets in protest, because he knew that he needed to move. If she were to open her eyes and see him looming over her, she'd think he was a world-class creep. It might scare her, even.

A tremulous exhale rattled between his lips as he leaned forward. It was simply not possible to resist. Just a moment longer, and then another, and maybe one more, and then he'd go.

Static from her tousled bangs tickled at his nose; Ken shifted his weight to his right hand and brought up the left to gently dust the hair back from her forehead. He stared at the skin there, at her dark lashes, her sweetly parted lips.

He brought his own so close, near enough to feel the warmth of her in the scant breath between them. The pad of his thumb traced her jaw, featherlight.

Momo stirred - he froze.

Languorously, she shifted under him, nuzzling into his hesitant touch. The tiniest smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Ken's breath hitched at the sight of her accepting his affection - seeking it, even. He let his fingers curl gently over her cheek.

Never in his life had he wanted so much. To kiss her forehead, her hair, her blushing cheeks, her precious, perfect mouth. To lay beside her - to pull her flush against him, to feel her breath fanning across his chest again. To whisper "I'm in love with you" over the shell of her ear, a thousand times, until his voice echoed in her dreams and it was etched irrevocably into her very soul.

At last, chest aching, splitting in two with longing, Ken dragged himself out of her bed, taking the utmost care not to disturb her further. Reaching across, he pulled the rumpled comforter up to her chin.

He'd tell her how he felt. Soon. After all…

Momo sensed his absence before he'd even finished turning off the TV. She grunted, frowned, and rolled towards the edge of her bed as he backed away, rucking up the blanket underneath her. He watched a hand snake its way out of the covers, patting the mattress beside her pillow. Like she was searching for something. A crease worried its way between her brows.

"'Garuuuun," Momo breathed, lashes fluttering. He clamped a hand over his chest, praying his heart wouldn't explode. She grumbled, fingers tightening into a fist that might be menacing, if she were awake. "Oga… ruuun…"

"I'm here," Ken said softly, lowering himself onto the futon. His voice felt pitifully small in the dark of her room.

But she relaxed at the sound of it. That tiny smile arched across her face again; Momo burrowed into her pillow and sighed contentedly.

Next chance he got, he'd tell her.

After all, she probably loved him, too.