Day 1: Blushing

AU where Kou and Futaba are childhood friends.

I'll have you know, I searched just about everywhere and the kitchen sink looking for the correct spelling of this fic's title. Apparently, this one is acceptable, even if MS Word begs to disagree.

"Hey Kou, did you know that Kikuchi-kun blushes real easily?"

Kou blinks in surprise at the statement and glances sharply to where Futaba is sprawled on the bed, her Chemistry notes in hand. He sits up straight and waits for her to continue, but she just lays there, her fringe sticking up in different directions and her tawny eyes skimming from side to side while she chews on the eraser end of a pencil.

(Another part of him is also suggesting non-PG thoughts about how she is ON HIS BED, but he snuffs them out with a vengeance.)

Slowly lowering his pen to the desk, he swivels around and rests his chin on his hand.

"Okay?" He prompts.

"Oh yeah. Just one of the things I noticed when we were dating." She turns a page. "You comment on his hair or hold his hand or talk about the weather, and poof! He turns into a cherry tomato for the rest of the day."

Kou can't help snorting at this piece of information—or blackmail, as he likes to call it. He'd noticed her ex-boyfriend's unique tendency during one of his spying escapades ("It's just a precaution." He held his hands up defensively this one time she caught him in the act. "Gotta make sure there's no funny business going on when you two are out on the streets at night. Together. You know, just you and him. Alone.") Anyway, that boy would light up like a 1000 megawatt neon sign if she would so much as stand in the same room as him.

Poor boy was smitten. Too bad there's only room for one man in her life—even if that position's labeled as "BEST FRIEND".

A wry smirk forms on his lips as he regards her with amused eyes. "Futaba, I'm pretty sure that if I did any of those things with mushroom he—I mean, Kikuchi, he'd be red in the face—for his want to send me to an early grave, that is."

She giggles in response, the light peal of her laughter echoing around his room. Something flutters at the pit of his stomach.

He shakes his head and returns to his math sheet, picking up his pen and punching some numbers into a calculator. "With you, on the other hand, his whole body would flush and he'd be all hot and bothered with this mad desire to jump yo—OW!"

He slaps a hand to the side of his head where she nearly impaled him with a pencil. Futaba sends him an almost apologetic look and proceeds to inspect her nails. "Whoops, it slipped."

As her best friend, he taught her how to defend herself against all kinds of bad guys. His tutelage also sort of included how to aim and throw remotely sharp objects at people.

He rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath, "Slipped, my ass."

"And my, what a cute ass, you have."

His hand slips, dragging his pen across the worksheet in a jagged, inky mess as his ears perk up at her crass comment. A familiar heat burns in his cheeks. Cursing silently, he scrambles for a new sheet, and then bows his head and grips the pen harder, a newfound desire to finish the problem set coursing through his veins.

Bullseye.

Futaba watches her best friend fondly from her perch on the bed, her lips stretched into a grin.

It turns out Kikuchi's not the only one with a blushing problem where Yoshioka Futaba is concerned.