Hello, my lovelies! I have once again returned for the A-Z Story Game: Entry "G"!

I do not own Skip Beat~! And I DO NOT apologize for this piece of pointless fluff! I was a requirement for the challenge! The lovely Neh-san is in desperate need of fluff. I hope this helps. This takes place in the future, so expect slight OoC-ness.

Please note that all the dialog is in English. The reason is below. :)

Enjoy~! XD

Mogami Kyoko, soon to be Hizuri Kyoko, had always had an affinity for foreign languages, English in particular. That was expected of her; she was raised in a ryokan, after all. So to say that she was good at English was a bit of an understatement: She was fluent. Since her in-laws and fiancé spoke English, she had thrown herself even more fully into the study of the language during what little free time she had. And, since this is Kyoko, her grasp of the language was now nearly perfect.

Nearly, much to Kuon's delight.

That evening, the two had elected to eat at home to avoid the paparazzi. This was understandable, as Kuon had given the press a bit of a double-whammy a few weeks back: Not only had he revealed his true name, but he had also gushed (at length, much to Kyoko's embarrassment) about his lovely wife-to-be. Had Yashiro not been so happy that his ship was finally sailing, he might have killed Kuon. Honestly, couldn't he ever do anything by halves? For years, he hadn't let a single word about his personal life slip to the media – not a single scandal, not even a rumor – and then he just appeared on Kimagure Rock one day to drop two enormous bombshells on the Japanese public! This was fortunate, in a way – not that Yashiro noticed this, of course – because the uproar of shock had prevented anyone from noticing that Bo grew increasingly flustered as Kuon continued gushing about his fiancée. In fact, they did not notice Bo at all until he gave a rather large squawk, interrupting Kuon. Kuon flushed, guiltily realizing that he'd become as bad as his father was when it came to his loved ones. He laughingly mentioned this, and the uproar increased. Neither he nor Kyoko had been able to go anywhere undisguised for weeks.

Hence, Kyoko had volunteered to cook, and had also requested that they speak in English, for practice. (Kuon had offered to help, but he had been banned from food preparation since the time he had managed to burn cold cereal when attempting to prepare it as a surprise for Kyoko.) She was now humming happily as she bustled back and forth, keeping up a cheerful conversation with Kuon, who was setting the table.

"I'm sorry that I missed you when you dropped by yesterday, but Moko decided that she, Maria-chan, and Chiori-san were kidnapping me for a girls' night out. They say that you've been monopolizing too much of my time," Kyoko laughed, stirring a bubbling pot on the stove.

"Should I count myself lucky that they let me see you at all?" he asked, setting down the last utensil and walking over to wrap her in his arms.

"Yup," she smiled, leaning back in his embrace. "I recall Moko telling me to tell you that if you ever do me wrong, she's going to plant roses just so she can water them with your blood."

"As morbidly lovely as that image is, it won't be necessary," he promised, planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Mmm… I know. You promised not to hurt me when you told me you love me. If I don't believe that, what should I believe about you?" She twisted slightly in his embrace and stirred a different pot.

A nervous pang went through his heart, the same one he'd held since he'd first been forced to realize he loved her. "Please… Please believe me. I love you. I'd sooner die than hurt you. Please."

"I know," she replied simply, twisting around to place a kiss on his lower jaw. "I love you, too."

He groaned, and tried to catch her, to hold her there. "I'm never going to get tired of hearing—"

Kyoko cut him off with a loud yelp, and hastily returned to stirring her pots. "Kuon, would you get the grinded-up garlic off of the counter, please?" In her haste, she did not notice the slip in her words.

Unfortunately for her, Kuon did. "Oh, yes," he grinned, handing her the required condiment, "I'll just pass you the grinded-up garlic."

Kyoko, of course, did not realize that she was being teased – she was far too focused on her cooking to do so. "Thanks."

"Oh, you're quite welcome, princess. You certainly did a good job when you grinded that garlic." He was smirking now, more of a trickster than he had ever been as Corn.

She furrowed her brow. "Do you like garlic that much? I thought that you preferred it to be milder."

"Oh, I do like it milder," he assured her, smirking more widely, his eyes glittering with mischief. "I just admire the way you grinded it."

She looked at him, and finally saw the expression on his face. "I can teach you, if you like," she giggled. "I have been told that my grinding technique is impressive and efficient." She smiled at him, and returned to her cooking.

His mind went momentarily blank, and then he wondered if she meant what he thought she meant. After a moment's observation, he decided that she had not… but he needed to make sure. "By whom other than myself?"

"Let's see…" she stepped out of his arms, grabbed the pepper, and then stepped back into them to continue cooking. "The chefs from the Happy Grateful parties are always pleased with my work, and Father said that he wanted me to teach him how to properly grind mint." She felt his body relax, and added, "Why? What did you think that I meant?"

"Not important," he murmured. "Sometimes I just worry about you."

"You really don't need to worry about me so much, you know," she informed him, adjusting the heat on the pots and putting lids on them.

"Says the girl who didn't realize that she needed a disguise when we first started going out," Kuon scoffed as she set the timer.

"People don't recognize me when I'm not in character," she countered.

"Correction: They didn't recognize you when you're not in character. Thanks to the paparazzi, they now do." Recognizing that she was temporarily done cooking, he lifted her completely into his arms. "That is why I worry when you talk about people liking your grinding technique. You're too easily fooled, my love."

"A fact that you take advantage of far too frequently, Corn." She rolled her eyes. "And if you hadn't pulled a Father on national television, I wouldn't need a disguise, and the president wouldn't be throwing that ridiculously large party next week."

"Touché, moi cherie."

"Kuon, we're speaking English today, not French."

"My apologies. Perhaps I inhaled some of the garlic that you so finely grinded for this meal."

She raised an eyebrow. "I get the distinct feeling that you're making fun of me."

He kissed the top of her head. "Only because I love you, and I want you to be able to speak my mother language properly – especially since you so kindly point out my every mistake with kanji."

Now her brow furrowed. "What did I do wrong?"

"Why, you grinded the garlic, my love." He beamed at her.

"Well, yes. The recipe called for—" she was cut off by his finger on her lips.

"It's 'ground.' You ground the garlic."

"Why didn't you tell me in the first place?" she gasped, now horrified by her obvious slip.

"Because I found it ridiculously cute," he chuckled, rubbing noses with her.

She pouted, "You're mean, Kuon."

"Yet you love me anyway."

"True," she sighed, letting her head thump against his chest, "I do."

He chuckled, a deep sound that resonated.

"What?"

"I just remembered… I heard once that when a girl puts her head against your chest, she's wishing that you'd be hers forever. Is that true?"

She blushed, and mumbled, "I'm your fiancée, aren't I?"

Had she had any grudges left, his next smile would have killed them by the gross. "Only temporarily."

"Yes, and then we'll be married."

"And then—" The kitchen timer beeped, interrupting what would have doubtless been a very suave (or sappy) comment.

"Saved by the timer," she giggled. "Put me down, please?"

"I suppose," he sighed, kissing her soundly once before relenting. "After all, you so nicely grinded the garlic for the meal."

"Kuon!" she huffed, turning away from him and walking over to turn off the stove. "If you keep that up, I'm going to think that you want me to add more garlic to our meals."

"I'm sorry, Kyoko," he said, fetching bowls in which to put the food. "You're just so adorable. I can't help teasing you. After all, you rarely blush at my touch anymore."

"That's not true," she muttered, spooning food into the bowls he held out for her.

"What was that?"

"I was just asking if your day today was terribly tentekomai," she grinned, looking up at him through her lashes in pseudo-shyness.

He growled at her, though he smiled. "Now who's being mean, little miss Bo?"

"I wouldn't know, Ren," she shot back, sticking her tongue out.

"Fine," he sighed as they set the food on the table. "Truce?"

"Truce," she smiled, and settled into the seat next to his. "Promise to eat enough without me reminding you so we can talk?"

"Will you feed it to me?" he inquired, letting a bit of what he now knew she called the Emperor of the Night shine through.

At this, she blushed violently, but said, "Why do you think I'm sitting next to you and not across from you?"

He gaped at her for a moment, and she popped a piece of food into his mouth. He closed his lips over her fingers, and her blush deepened. "I see," he nodded when he'd released her fingers, "you were saying that you do still blush at my touch, but that I just need to widen the variety. I daresay you've gotten too used to just my kisses and hugs."

"W-We're not married yet, Kuon. This is as far as we go until our wedding night," she looked away, her face still red.

"As you wish," he grinned, and she turned back with a slight smile, having caught the reference. They'd been watching British and American movies as part of her language and acting studies, so he'd chosen several of his favorites for the job. He picked up a piece of food in his fingers. "Open up, Buttercup."

At that, Kyoko began to laugh.

"What?" he'd been attempting to make a romantic reference, and failed to see the humor.

"I-I'm sorry… it rhymed, and it sounded so silly coming from you…" she leaned against him, giggling, and he suddenly no longer minded her missing his attempt at romance. He loved listening to her laugh, and physical contact was something she had taught him not to take for granted.

"It's fine. It does sound a bit ridiculous," he chuckled, and put an arm around her. She snuggled against him.

"Why are you always so warm, Kuon?"

"I can't help it. I've trained my face not to blush, so the heat disperses to the rest of my body."

"Oh, really? So then are you this warm all the time?"

He kissed her temple. "Nope. Only around you." He glanced down at her, and noted that her mouth was open and her cheeks red. "Hmm?"

"You told me to open up," she reminded him, smiling, "so I was opening up. One of us has a functioning appetite, you know."

"I do so have an appetite!" he protested grandly, popping the food into her mouth.

She picked up a piece for him. "Oh, really?" she asked skeptically.

"Yes," he confirmed, running his tongue over her fingers when she put the next bit of popcorn shrimp on his tongue. When she yanked her hand back, blushing, he leaned down and whispered into her ear, "I do have an appetite… it's just not for food."

"This is why we don't go out to eat," she muttered wildly, blushing.

"Oh? Why?" he offered her another bite of shrimp, which she took with her tongue instead of her teeth. Let it never be said that Mogami Kyoko was a slow learner, Kuon thought.

Kyoko grinned as she felt his subtle increase in temperature. "Because I'm the only one with a visible blush, and I really do not like the idea of appearing in gumdrops-knows-which tabloid doing a tomato impression."

"Fine, fine," he relented, accepting the shrimp from her fingers very slowly, memorizing the digits. "Then does that mean I can do that here?"

Kyoko did not dignify that with a response, and instead changed the topic to animals. "Today the president was a horse breeder. I got to pet one of the – the compressed horses! It was so cute!"

Kuon couldn't help himself; he snorted.

"What?" she asked, somewhat testily, as he put a piece of shrimp on her tongue.

"I was just admiring your complete grasp of the English language," he snickered, and was given an extra-large piece of shrimp for his troubles.

"What do you mean?" she pouted. "Isn't that what they're called?"

"Usually, we call them ponies," he chortled, taking a dumpling and offering it to her. She took it in her mouth and offered the other half to him wordlessly. He accepted with pleasure, and neither of them really paid attention to the flavor of the dumpling.

"I thought those were flowers," she mumbled somewhat dazedly when they broke apart.

"Nope. Peonies are flowers; ponies are," his voice shook from suppressed laughter, "as you so eloquently put it, compressed horses."

"You know, I'm always nice to you when I'm tutoring you on obscure kanji," she pouted, offering him a dumpling, which they shared in the same way as the last.

"That's because you are an inherently nice person. I am a mischief-maker. Once, when I was about a year old, I flipped around in my crib to scare Mom – or so I'm told. Apparently my feet were where my head was supposed to be."

She laughed at this. "What have I gotten myself into?"

"Look at it this way, love: Never a dull moment." He gave her a squeeze.

"A dull moment? What's that?" she quipped back with a grin.

"I haven't the foggiest," he smiled, and kissed the tip of her nose, "and I hope it stays that way."

"Me, too," she sighed, and leaned her head against his chest. "Oh, and Kuon?"

"Yes, Kyoko, love?"

"That is what this means."

Has Yashiro seen the smiling look that the couple exchanged – and the embrace that followed – he would have fainted from the happiness of his ship sailing with all flags flying high, as it would ever after.

Ta-da~! FLUFF! FLUFF EVERYWHERE!

I hope that you liked my fluff. I enjoyed writing it.

Did it fill your fluff compartment?

Please review~!