Possibly not for the faint of heart. Rated M for all the usual reasons. If you like Nagato, or Yuki-fluff in general, I'd suggest staying away. There's a gauntlet of torture I feel like running these characters through, starting off with this awkward first step. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: It's probably best I don't own the franchise these character's are a part of.

A Line Allows Progress, A Circle Does Not

Sitting 'round, no work today. Tried pacing to keep awake.
Sitting 'round, no school today. Just drink until the clock has circled all the way...

The front door code and elevator buttons had practically pushed themselves, leaving me the task of fumbling my key into the locked door that led to the apartment Nagato and I shared. My mind numbed from the long day I had at my dead-end job, it took several moments of cursing before the door was finally opened and I instantly knew from the dim entrance way that Nagato was not around. Walking past the kitchen and across the living room, which had been adequately furnished more and more over the past year since I moved in after graduation, I entered my room, where I had been frozen next to Asahina several years prior. I dropped everything wherever and took a second to lay down on my bed, which I had gotten moved from my parents house to here.

Living with Nagato had its perks. She paid for everything, from rent to food to things we thought would liven up the place. Most importantly, the small bar and sizable liquor cabinet that now occupied a corner of the living room never seemed to empty.

Does an alcoholic Nagato interested in home decor surprise you?

On that, a lot has happened over the past few years, but explaining it would bring up several sensitive subjects I don't want to talk about, mainly: Haruhi Suzumiya. Though you need not worry, it is unlikely I'll be able to avoid the important subjects later when trying to explain things. If this leaves you disappointed, I'll talk briefly about Nagato to keep you sedated.

Since Nagato's punishment in the winter of our first year of school, she has slowly progressed to a more "human" personality. Her voice now possesses a warm softness that often borders on curious confidence. Hardly ever reading anymore, Nagato spends a lot of time writing, or in silent contemplation, probably considering life and death and philosophy. Currently, I expected her to be doing the latter on the roof, so I fished the pack of cigarettes out of the jacket I had worn as a precaution to rain that never made an appearance, left the jacket behind, and headed for the roof.

A cloudy night hung low overhead as I walked the length of the exterior hallway that led to the roof. Rain had been threatening all day, as well as the day before and the day before that. Its indecisiveness reflecting my usual mood, I had given up preparing for it and dressed mostly for a good weathered summer.

Naturally, as soon as I stepped onto the roof a light drizzle began. I saw Nagato, wearing a nice summer skirt and conservative top, sitting off to a side of the roof, facing a view that was nothing to write home about. Not that any direction really had a spectacular view, the building being central to an area I grew up in with nothing out of the ordinary. I remember that for years I had possessed a knowledge of what was ordinary and what was not, as well as a great affection for the extraordinary. However, like it or not, this middle of nowhere special was my life now.

Noting a handful of spent butts piled loosely beside her, I took a seat down cross-legged on Nagato's other side and tried to find some beauty in the scenery. After a moment of saying nothing, I smacked my cigarette pack until a single one emerged above the rest, seized and lit it, all the while wondering where I had learned to do that. Was it some TV show? A movie perhaps?

I felt Nagato's eyes on me and then heard her voice.

"How was work?"

I could tell something had been bothering her by the far away tone she had used. Initially I had been planning on venting to her all the little frustrations the day had brought, including the rain that had just recently decided to start when I left my jacket behind. In truth, I could run back inside and get it, but I had put off smoking all day because it felt like one of those chain smoking days. Apparently Nagato agreed, and so, with a well constructed tone, I answered her.

Nothing special.

I gave a half smile and met her gaze after answering. Her mind was clearly analyzing my words and her eyes were doing the same with my expression. I quickly changed the subject and asked her how her day was, to which she answered in the exact same manner that I did. The conversation dwindled and we sat in silence for a bit, the embers burned ever closer to the filter with each drag I took in between discarding the spent ash.

"I've been thinking lately," Nagato started again, though this time she was looking off into the distance same as me, "About my punishment. About how it might not be entirely a punishment."

"Yeah?" I asked to show I was listening, trying desperately hard to sound interested, despite the words to display it being lost to me. I really was interested, I just lacked the energy to express it. I hoped Nagato was convinced while I listened to her go on.

"I've also been wondering about how 'human' I've become. I mean, I can't even manipulate data anymore." Her tone was sad in a matter-of-fact sort of way, like a bird lamenting its lose of flight but somehow knowing that it was inevitable.

"How do you keep the liquor cabinet full without me noticing then?" I realized too late that my off-hand question was not only insensitive, but a sad proclamation of where my priorities might just lay. Nagato however, whether ignoring my question or taking it as a joke, went on talking, putting her fingers that held her cigarette to her mouth in between sentences.

"I look back on our time at North High and wonder about who I was then. Did I think or feel things similar to what I do now? I don't remember really thinking or feeling at all, so maybe I didn't..." Nagato trailed off and exhaled all the smoke at once. She coughed lightly, making her appear so fragile. I knew she wasn't though. Even with all her supernatural powers gone, she was still just as strong as I had first thought she was. The weight of her past, her lost abilities, would be more than any normal person could bear. I've never seen her cry.

I hadn't noticed that Nagato stopped talking after trailing off, perhaps because she realized the subject that she had brought up. I tried my best not to think of Haruhi at the mere mention of high school, but it was unavoidable. Her crazy declarations and ideas, her expressions and how sometimes, just sometimes, it seemed like she could be a normal person. But most of all, my admiration of her, a person who refuses to just wait for exciting things to happen so she goes out and causes them, built up by the fact that everything she believed was true...

I felt something warm press against my side and a burning pain in my fingers. I realized I had let my cigarette burn down to the filter and quickly tossed it aside before noticing Nagato had moved right up to me. I examined the way her hair had been wet down by the drizzle and my question was answered before I could even ask it.

"I'm cold." She admitted simply, a few drops dripping off the ends of her locks. I began telling her it was fine while noting that she had put out her cigarette and added the butt to the pile, but I was cut off by a sensation that I can only describe by calling it what it is: Teeth on skin. Nagato's mouth was at my arm, her teeth digging in but not hard enough to hurt.

"What are you doing?" I asked with my best attempt at not sounding shocked or offended.

"I don't know." She admitted while stopping for a second. "It just feels nostalgic..."

I didn't see anything wrong with letting her continue to explore the feeling, remembering she had injected nano-machines on more than one occasion in this manner. That didn't seem to be what she was doing now, but I wouldn't be surprised if the close proximity to the smell of skin reminded her of those times. We sat like that, with her gently gnawing on my arm, until the rain picked up.

"We should go inside now." Nagato said as she suddenly stood up and headed for the door off the roof. I quickly got to my feet and followed her. I examined my arm, which had small red marks from Nagato's teeth surrounded with goose flesh, as I was soaked to the bone.

When Nagato and I got back to our apartment she had immediately crossed the distance from the front door to the liquor cabinet. Pulling out two glasses, she poured a generous amount of whatever caught her eye, skipping ice entirely, she topped each one up with a measure of cola. I moved to the kitchen, regarded the small pile of dishes as one more thing to easily put off, and checked the fridge for enough left overs for the two of us. Finding a dish with Nagato's curry, I concluded that there was enough and heated it up.

I joined Nagato, who was watching some history show, at the kotatsu that took up the middle of our living room. She had a towel she had used to dry off and I took a few moments to follow suit. Getting comfortable, I set myself up for the long haul, the curry was finished off quickly, but the alcohol kept coming. We wouldn't finish every day like this, but if I didn't work in the morning of the next day, it was what we usually did.

Whether it was an hour or two, I became aware I was having to concentrate on staying balanced where I sat and noticed Nagato had a similar problem and was looking at me with an expression I could almost call pleading. My reasoning clouded, I wondered whether I should ask her about some of the stuff she had talked about when we were on the roof. Instead, I looked at her until the words I was planning to use left my train of thought, which was when I tried to find interest in something else in the room, to no avail. I found myself studying her features, her pale skin, save for her cheeks which had gone slightly rosey with intoxication, accenting the bags under her eyes from heavy smoking. My mind briefly wandered to a time when Nagato was impervious to alcohol, but in an automatic reflex to stop myself from thinking of anything I didn't want to, I went back to examining Nagato with blurred eyes. She had leaned toward me, which a part of me hoped was just her lack of balance, but when my body instinctively leaned toward her as well, I barely had time to close my eyes before our lips collided.

A few moments were spent awkwardly trying to form our numb and chapped lips together, with our teeth practically colliding in the confusion of the moment. It was easy, even past my dulled senses, to smell the distinct odor of cigarettes on someone other than myself, which caused me to realize who I was kissing. I made a slight pull away before Nagato's hands, which also wreaked of nicotine, softly seized either side of my cheeks. The momentum of her advance overcame our combined balance and we ended up in a lying position with her on top of me. I couldn't tell whose mouth the taste of rum and coke had come from, but my hands, which had previously been lost as to where to place themselves, landed on Nagato's thighs, the texture of her wet skirt feeling strange to the touch. Her tongue entered my mouth as I figured out what she wanted and something deep inside me stirred. My hands went up her legs, taking the end of her skirt with them until....

What the hell are we doing?!

My exclamation had immediately followed my hands leaving her legs and pushing her up around the shoulders. I became immediately aware that my hands had fallen partly onto her chest, but more aware of the contrast between her cold wet clothes and her warm skin.

"I..." She trailed off as our eyes, which were only a foot away from each other, desperately searched each other's for answers.

At that point I couldn't help it. Try as I might, my mind flooded with images of Haruhi and the memory of the last time I saw her, which was at our graduation ceremony. She had been hinting at her displeasure for weeks that she hadn't experienced anything supernatural, but, besides asking Nagato, Koizumi, and Asahina to reveal themselves to her, I had dismissed it as just one of her usual bouts of complaining. I hadn't known what a mistake this was until it was too late. All the rage and anger she had thrown at me before declaring she would find the supernatural herself and storming off I had sent back at the other three tenfold later on. Practically screaming at them that it was their fault that she left. I remembered what a seemingly helpless expression Nagato had then and it was the same one staring back at me now. As big of a talker as I am, I couldn't live down how bad I felt for making her feel like that.

Nagato...

Overcome by a volatile mixture of pent up emotion, guilt, and alcohol, my hands shifted position and pulled her back down towards me, to which she did not resist. Our lips mixed as our hands went about the work of separating warm skin from cold clothes and years of confusing emotions coalesced...

* * *

At first, I didn't realize it was the phone ringing that woke me up. I had just assumed it was the pounding in my head, but I quickly noticed it was morning. There was then a brief period where I slowly became aware that I had fallen asleep under the kotatsu with Nagato. This was followed by a flood of memories from the night before overcoming me, to which it took all of my power not to hurry to my feet. The heater under the kotatsu was still on and Nagato had a single arm wrapped haphazardly around me. The phone ringed several more times while I tried to move Nagato's arm without waking her. Thankfully whoever was calling felt their message was important enough to wait the over half a dozen rings till I managed to answer it.

Hello? I offered into the receiver, standing naked at the wall where our land line hung.

"Yo!" A cheerful and familiar voice answered with a volume that I felt was unnecessary at this early in the morning. What time was it anyways?

Taniguichi? I guessed at the name of the caller, a slight tickle in the back of my throat that hinted at a possible cold.

"That's right!" He answered enthusiastically. "Listen, I've got something important to tell you about. But I gotta do it in person. It's about Haruhi Suzumiya."

I dropped the receiver like it was made of molten lava.

Haruhi....?

I could still hear Taniguichi over the phone.

"I know you're going to want to hear this, so when are you free?"

If you recognize where the story concept is from, a spare bonus prize for you, and know that I have permission to use it. Another if you know the kind of music I've been listening to while writing this. Next chapter will come up whenever it feels like it, I'll probably switch off between this and my other Fic. Thanks for reading, please review as this helps me in areas where I need it.