A/N: Warning: Innuendos. Everywhere.

(This warning would probably be almost just as effective if I wrote 'Warning: Yasuhara exists')

Eleven months left

"You want to invite all of these people?"

Naru didn't answer. He merely raised his eyebrows in a 'Wasn't that obvious?' sort of way as he tucked a few stray wisps of hair back in place behind her ear.

"Who even is he?" Mai demanded, pointing to one of the many foreign names on the list.

"Martin's newest intern."

"The one who spilled coffee all over your report? Why? You wouldn't even let him touch a paper clip for a week, and now you want him at our wedding?" She adjusted her seat in his lap to whirl around and frown at him, ruining all of his efforts of just a moment ago.

"Don't they say a bit of commotion makes for a good memory?"

She snorted her disbelief at his motive. "And what about these? Susan? Frederick? Martha?"

"The audiovisuals analysis team for BSPR."

"Do you even know them?"

"Of course," he said patiently—one of the many skills he'd more or less managed to cultivate in the past few years. Speaking without sarcasm was still not among them, though. "I wrote their names down, didn't I?"

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," she accused, stabbing a finger at him. "You want to invite so many people that we'll have to switch to a bigger venue, so you can slip away during the reception."

"You have an overactive imagination," he disagreed, but his affected disinterest and his lack of a direct answer were dead giveaways. "Luella wanted to plan a bigger wedding."

"But at this rate, half of the guests will be strangers!" She protested.

"Traditionally, that is the idea, isn't it?" He murmured. "It's merely that it'll be the same half for both of us."

"So you do admit that they're strangers to you, too?"

His arms circled around her waist as he left a brief kiss in her hair. "You were worried that you wouldn't have enough people to invite," he said quietly, and her eyebrows drew together.

"You knew?"

"An educated guess."

"Mmm." She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. "Bou-san agreed to walk me, and Ayako is lowering the veil. That's enough for me."

"The monk will be dead drunk by the second course for dinner," he pointed out dryly, and she had to snicker at the truth of the statement.

"Don't let him hear you say that. He'll make it a point to prove that he doesn't get drunk easily."

"Alas, a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"So, that's why I said not to let him hear you," she mumbled, idly fastening and unfastening the fourth button on his shirt. It was making awful wrinkles in the fabric, but the shirt was dark enough that it didn't matter much anyways. "Since he'll probably end up crying something awful when he's half-drunk, I suppose we should have a bigger reception after all, so he won't stand out as much, right?"

"That would be the idea," he agreed. "Luella will cry as well, of course."

"I suppose so… But," she added, "For heavens' sake, leave out the interns."

He let out a soft laugh in reply and pulled her a little closer as he leaned forward to cross the name off the list. Her hands were pressed too tightly between the two of them to fiddle with his button anymore, which she suspected was half the motive behind the gesture in the first place. Still, it wasn't like she minded terribly when he put the pen back down and kissed her, and she tilted her head back as he ran his fingers through her hair.

"Naru, I…"

He waited in silence as she trailed off uncertainly.

"I…"

As the minutes ticked by, he finally raised an eyebrow. "You forgot what you were going to say already? Has your memory finally deteriorated to that of a goldfish?"

The corners of her mouth pulled downwards in indignation. "You are insufferable, you know."

"I know," he murmured, leaving another kiss on her cheek. "Unlike you, I haven't forgotten the last time you said that."

"Neither have I," she informed him. "It's hard to forget when you remind me of that fact every waking moment. And half the non-waking ones, too."

"You can't blame that on ESP," he said, looking a bit too smug for her liking.

"That's not a good thing, you know."

"I beg to differ," he said indifferently. And that was when she became too distracted to continue the argument.

Ten months left

"Mai." Masako said impatiently, giving her a disparaging look. "Remind me again. How old are you?"

"… Twenty-three."

"And how many years have you been in a relationship with him?"

"Five," she answered glumly. "I know, I know! It's a stupid problem."

"'Stupid' is understating it. If I hadn't known better, I would have asked you if you were in middle school. No, even middle schoolers these days have more sense than you do. For goodness' sake, if you have trouble saying it, why don't you just practice in a mirror or something?"

"But it's different," she argued. "And besides, it just doesn't feel right saying 'I love you' to my own reflection. That's not supposed to be my defining character trait."

The medium snorted, then covered her mouth delicately with a hand—since a kimono sleeve was inconveniently inaccessible at the moment. "I cannot see why you're so fixated on this, anyways. Do you doubt his intentions toward you?"

"No, of course not."

"Do you think he doubts yours?"

"No…"

"Then what difference does it make? This isn't some cheesy romance story. It's not like you need a corny line to end the scene or something. Hey, stop moving around."

"It tickles," Mai protested, though she tried to obey. "It's not like I think he doesn't know it already, but I still want to tell him someday. Because he's that important, after all."

The medium sighed with an exaggerated shake of her head as she lifted another pile of fabric. "Try this one on. Mai, how do you feel about me?"

"What? You're one of my best friends, Masako. I love you to bits."

"Hmph. What about Takigawa-san and Matsuzaki-san?"

"I love them too, of course. They're like family."

"John? Yasuhara?"

"Oh, well, who doesn't love John? And Yasuhara is… Yasuhara. Ack—Masako, that's too tight."

"Lin-san?"

"I do wish he would talk more, but he's one-of-a-kind."

"And Naru?"

"Naru? Well… Well… obviously…"

"Obviously what?"

"Obviously… I do… like him a lot…"

Masako gave the zipper an impatient tug. "Mai, you ask for someone's number because you 'like' them. You go on dates with someone because you 'like' them. You do not sign a binding lifetime legal contract with someone because you 'like' them."

"No, that's only when you want their money, right?" She muttered, to which Masako snorted.

"Good luck murdering that one in his sleep."

"I've tried," she said mournfully. "It never works, somehow—you'd think he's psychic."

"Are you sure it's not just because you're too easily distracted at night?" The medium asked with a meaningful glance, to which Mai's face promptly turned a curious shade of tomato.

"Masako!" She protested with horror.

"See? There's your first problem—you're not twenty-three, you're ten. You're going to make him look bad, you know—people are going to think he's got a thing for little girls, when really, it's just that he's inexplicably attracted to monkeys."

"Why is that you only seem to wax eloquent when you're insulting me?" Mai complained under her breath.

"Because there are never enough words to describe how stupid you can be," the medium answered airily. "What do you think? This one's rather nice, isn't it?"

She turned around to look in the mirror, the fabric at her ankles swaying elegantly with her movements. "Oh, heavens, it's lovely… But isn't it too much for me? The main attraction of the ceremony is going to be the dress, not me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Masako told her. "I'm the one who picked it out, and my tastes are never wrong. Besides," she added, "No matter what you do, nothing can win against Naru in terms of conspicuousness, so what's the point in even worrying about it?"

She relaxed a little at that. "That's true. I could probably trip and mess up my vows, and no one would even notice. I think I really might, Masako—this dress is heavy. I'm going to be in heels, too. Masako, what am I going to do?"

"Practice," the medium said matter-of-factly, still inspecting the dress. "I think we'll shorten the sleeves for yours. Perhaps the lacework, too—beading might be better in your case. The silhouette is perfect, of course. As expected of my eye."

"As expected of you," Mai agreed. "I haven't a clue what I'm doing—I didn't even understand a single thing you just said. I don't think I could ever thank you enough."

"You could start by throwing the bouquet in my direction," Masako told her with a hint of amusement.

"Isn't that a little like cheating?"

"Nonsense. I would never engage in anything of the sort. After all, you could even say that I'm made of honor."

"That wasn't funny at all," Mai snorted, but the medium only tossed her head.

Nine months left

Lin prided himself very much on his character. There were stringent rules that he abided by—complete abstinence from alcohol, for one. Strict vegetarianism on cases. Precise adherence to an early bedtime whenever he wasn't on a case. Not making fun of his not-so-young-anymore-but-still-rather-young charge when he caught him in compromising situations. The last was decidedly more difficult than the others.

Had he been a lesser man (Yasuhara), he might have been tempted to ask when Oliver Davis' narcissistic tendencies had worsened to the point that he had started professing his love to his own reflection. He couldn't even justify it by saying that he was speaking to his brother (although Lin supposed that would have been a little worrying in its own way).

Of course, Lin was decidedly not a lesser man, which was why, (in a rather odd twist of equivocation,) he had declined to be the best man. Sentimental speeches were better left to the likes of the young businessman, who had devoted himself to penning a masterpiece that somehow managed to bless the couple while simultaneously making fun of the groom, flirting with the bride, laying claim to (naming) the firstborn, insulting half the guests, and declaring his undying love to the chef. (He suspected that was the very reason Yasuhara hadn't been the first to be asked to take the position of best man from the start.)

"Lin." Naru's voice shook him out of his thoughts, but the assistant's face was a carefully schooled mask of stoicism. If Naru suspected that his assistant was thinking some rather unflattering thoughts about him, he didn't show it. "Did Luella call back?"

"Yes," he answered tonelessly. "She said she's started on getting the invitation cards printed."

"The latest case reports?"

"They've been faxed over. They're on your desk right now."

The researcher nodded once and began heading out the door again. A flawless performance, Lin thought to himself. He was so pleased that he decided out of the goodness of his heart—and certainly not out of any desire to indulge in his more mischievous impulses—to offer a bit of advice.

"Oliver," he said, fighting the smile that threatened to rise to his lips, "Don't you think that Mai would be a more responsive audience to your earlier soliloquy than the bathroom mirror?"

Of course, he was thoroughly ignored.

Eight months left

"This is insane. This is a mess. I can't do it anymore," Mai declared, tossing the binder to the other side of the mattress, where it settled among the blankets with a light thump.

"You just have to pick a church. It's not that difficult," Naru remarked.

"You make it sound so easy! But it's difficult to arrange transportation from this one to the hotel, or it's hard to schedule a ceremony for that one. I thought the last one would finally work, but then Madoka tells me that the décor doesn't match the 'theme,' whatever that means. What does it mean?" She demanded.

"Naturally, a cohesive synthesis of a wide range of events and venues requires an overarching concept or idea in order to achieve an impression of unity—"

"I'm not talking about that! I'm trying to ask what was wrong with the last one I picked!"

Naru shrugged. "She thought the colors of the stained glass windows were too depressing."

Mai threw her hands up in exasperation. "Why do I feel like getting married is a lot harder than being married?"

"You don't have a point of comparison yet," he pointed out.

"I don't care. It had better be, or I'll start to wonder if it's even worth the trouble," she grumbled.

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. Probably. Maybe. Why can't we just hold it at John's church? Then, he can conduct the ceremony, too."

"Technically, it's not his church, but anyways, the children—"

"Oh, why not just invite them, too? Heavens knows it's not like you and Luella haven't added more people to that infernal list since last time. At least I'll actually know the children."

"You protest to the intern who spilled a cup of coffee, but you're fine with some thirty-plus grade schoolers attending?" Naru asked sardonically.

"Martin's interns aren't adorable enough to justify the trouble," she declared.

"Good thing, too," he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said, clearing his throat. "You'll have to notify Madoka, of course, but I doubt she can argue with the choice."

"She'd better not. I can't take any more of this. Maybe one of our party games can be hiding in trees."

"I'd rather not reminisce about that particular occasion," he said dryly in reply.

Seven months left

"And so, we now have enough toilets," Yasuhara remarked. "Though I wouldn't suggest that you use any of these. I don't think your dress would even fit inside the stall."

Mai sighed. "Thanks, Yasuhara. You're a lifesaver."

"Oh, it's nothing at all. There's nothing that says 'joie de vivre' better than renting portable bathrooms with a pretty girl. The best part is checking the inside together and closing the door—"

She wrinkled her nose. "Is that sarcasm? It's summer. Even if they're clean, there's nothing nice about that."

"A—nd another hit and miss," he said with a grin. "I'm starting to understand how the boss can look so relaxed all the time."

"Hmph." She snorted. "That's right—Naru, that slacker. He should be the one doing this. I don't know how he gets away with making everyone else do the work every time."

"Yes, that's exactly what I was talking about," Yasuhara agreed sagely. "What else did we need? Let's see… More chairs, tables, decorations, everythings… You really weren't exaggerating when you said they padded the guest list, were you?"

"The thirty-seven kids were my idea," she admitted.

"Is that how many you were planning on having?"

"Yes?"

"Hmm," Yasuhara commented, still skimming the list. "It's always good to aim high, but even if you plan on having one every year, that might still be pushing it. Of course, if half of them are twins, that's within the realm of possibility—but you'll be very busy. Not that I think he'll mind."

The implication behind his remark finally sank in. "Yasuhara!" She protested.

"What is it?" He asked innocently.

"Oh, never mind—you're incorrigible," she complained.

"Compliment taken," he said with an elegant bow.

Six months left

"This makes sense how?" She demanded. "We're not even done planning the wedding, but we're planning what comes next already?"

"Any international trip of sizable length ought to be planned at least six months in advance," Naru informed her.

"Who decided it had to be an international trip?"

"I did."

"Why?"

"You can ask your precious monk," he said dryly. "He dropped some rather obvious hints about 'happening to come across us' after the wedding. I believe his precise words were 'karma' and 'fate.'"

"It's not like our travel plans will be a secret no matter what you do," Mai pointed out. "After all, Luella's involved."

"Perhaps. But they'll be out of his budget range," he said serenely.

"You really are evil."

"I'm realistic," he corrected. "So, where did you want to go?"

"The peak of the Himalayas. The Arctic circle. An unnamed island in the middle of the Pacific. I don't know; where else is it impossible to find any signs of human life within a hundred-mile radius?"

"Your thought process," he suggested.

"Very funny. Do you see me laughing?"

"The Amazon forest, then. There are plenty of primates there—you can be with your own kind."

"How clever. In that case, maybe you plan on joining the crocodiles for a swim, too?"

He let out a quiet laugh and kissed her forehead placatingly, and she swallowed the rest of her complaints as she pushed him halfway off the seat to squeeze in beside him.

"There's another chair there," he pointed out.

"I can see that." She bent forward to peer at his screen. "Why is Alaska on your list? Does anyone even live there?"

He sighed and gave up on trying to get her to move, winding an arm around her to reach the keyboard. "Weren't you the one who suggested an uninhabited location in the middle of nowhere?"

"I was being sarcastic, obviously, since it seemed like you were intent on avoiding any human contact for the duration of the two weeks."

"Not any human contact," he disagreed. "Merely most."

"You realize your plan will fall apart if Bou-san manages to get Ayako curious enough to join him—and convince her that it's not too much of a hassle," she told him.

"Of course," he said, amusement curving his lips. Realization dawned on her.

"That's why, Alaska?"

"That's why Alaska."

Five months left

"Light greens, blues, and yellows," Ayako announced. "I won't take anything else."

"Um—"

"Lilies for the table pieces. White roses for the bouquet, perhaps."

"But—"

"The tablecloths are already white, so the ribbons ought to be something else. Spring green is a good bet."

"But Madoka said—"

"I don't care what Madoka said," Ayako said firmly, ignoring Mai's attempts to interject. "Lavender is not going to happen for a wedding. That's far too juvenile. Deep red might work, but that doesn't quite suit you. How are we dividing the seats?"

"The British side on the left, the Japanese side on the right. Three empty seats in the front row, of course. Two on the Japanese side, and one next to Martin and Luella."

"Flowers for those, too, hmm…? White carnations, perhaps?"

"I think they'd like that. Um, by the way… shouldn't we at least notify Madoka first?"

"Hmph. Considering that the two of you aren't even doing a Shinto-style wedding, I think I have the right to pick the florals, at least."

"Is… Is that so?"

"It is. I know the perfect florist—I was planning to have them for my own wedding, in fact."

"I see… So, how's the progress on that?" Mai ventured bravely.

She got a nasty glare in reply.

Four months left

"Masako," she said pitifully. "Help. I'm going to die."

"Nonsense. You've survived falling ceilings and collapsing floorboards—more than once. A pair of high heels and a dress are not going to kill you."

"I survived those while wearing shoes, not lethal weapons."

"You are a lethal weapon to yourself," the medium informed her. "Whatever is or isn't on your feet isn't going to make a huge difference."

"I'm going to fall." Just to make her point, she attempted a step forward and wobbled dangerously. Masako sighed heavily.

"If you fall in the first half, Takigawa-san will catch you. If you fall in the second half…"

"I'll embarrass myself horribly," she said miserably.

"Probably," Masako agreed. "But it'll be a valuable memory. Maybe Naru will even laugh in public."

"It doesn't sound worth it."

"Not to you, maybe," the medium informed her. "For the rest of us, it's like glimpsing a passing comet."

"Comet trails are considered bad omens in some places," she said petulantly.

"Then stop being pessimistic and start practicing more. And stop moving—I have to check the hem of the dress."

"Again?"

"You wouldn't hold still last time."

"I tried," Mai insisted. "We've been here for nearly two hours. Naru's still waiting outside—he's going to be exasperated. We should at least let him inside—"

"Absolutely not," Masako said flatly. "If he hears you carrying on like a moment ago, he's going to think there's a ghost or something and rush in here. You don't want to jinx your own wedding, do you?"

"No… but… I promise to be quiet?"

"Still no."

She bit the inside of her cheek with a pout.

Three months left

"Oh, yes, we'd love to," John assured. "The children love baking, but we hardly get a chance to do anything big besides for Christmas."

Naru nodded shortly, sliding over the manila envelope. "Then, I'll leave it up to you."

The priest opened the envelope and withdrew the papers carefully. "What a lovely design," he commented. "Aster flowers—those are her favorite, right? And yellow ribbons—isn't that her favorite color? And a summer theme, that's—"

"John," Naru interrupted. "Is it doable?"

"Oh, yes, of course. Um, it's just… Of course, it's fine, but…"

"What is it?"

"Well… Should I say… It's just…" John gave him a smile and a half-shrug. "It wasn't completely necessary to draw blueprints for a cake, you know."

Two months left

"It's finally done?" Takigawa remarked.

Mai nodded, undoing the packaging impatiently. Layers of brown paper and white padding fell to the ground, until only a silver pocket-watch was left in her hands. The metal gleamed a brilliant orange hue under the lamplight, the simple design and Naru's engraved initials striking on its smooth surface. "Do you think he'll like it?"

"Pretentious and utilitarian at the same time. I don't see how he could not like it. Besides, you're the one who's giving it to him, after all."

"I hope so." She pressed the button that undid the latch mechanism, and the lid of the pocket-watch sprung open. Takigawa drew in a sharp breath.

"There's a mirror inside," he said in awe. "That's why you had to get it custom-made?"

"Because he'd rather die than do something as uncool as bring a hand mirror on a case, after all. We might not always be lucky enough to find one hanging nearby."

"Clever," he said, shaking his head with a chuckle. "You are a clever, clever young lady."

She grinned. "I learned from the best, after all."

One month left

The simple sheet of paper lay on the desk, protected by little more than a few layers of clear plastic. She picked it up gingerly, running her fingers along the signatures at the bottom.

"I can't believe it," she breathed. "We're officially married."

He turned off the overhead light, leaving only the dim orange glow of the desk lamp, and crossed the room to stand beside her. "If I'd known that written contracts impressed you so much, I might have picked a different profession," he said dryly.

"You could probably still do it, if you tried," she told him. "But never mind that. Naru, we're married."

"Is that what the signature was for? I had no clue," he remarked sarcastically. She ignored his gibe.

"It was so simple. It almost makes you wonder what the rest of the fuss is about."

"It makes you wonder," he corrected. "I was never under any illusions to start with."

"Who was the one who came in with the monstrous guest list?"

"To make Madoka and Luella happy," he dismissed.

"I think they are more stressed than happy at the moment," she pointed out.

"They reap what they sow," he said with an indifferent shrug. "And you?"

"Me?"

"Are you happy?"

"… Mhmm," she hummed, lifting herself on her tiptoes to kiss him. They toppled backwards—a little purposefully on his part, she suspected—and fell heavily onto the mattress. She felt his arms circle around her back, effectively trapping her and slightly tracing her bare skin where the disarray of her shirt had left it exposed. "Naru, I think I really will fall during the ceremony," she told him.

"Is that supposed to be a surprise?"

"I've been practicing," she said defensively. "It's hard, you know. You try wearing that heavy dress and those heels and see if you don't fall."

"Unfortunately," he murmured, "I've already fallen, so that's unnecessary."

"This doesn't count. You did it on purpose," she accused.

"That's not what I was referring to."

"Then what?"

He kissed her softly in reply.

"Oh," she breathed once she had room to speak again. "But, the original problem…"

Naru raised an eyebrow. "I don't see why you're worried when I'm going to be there."

"I trust you with my life," she clarified. "But not my dignity."

"It's a little late for you to be worried about dignity."

She scowled at him. "It is not. I—"

"You won't fall," he said with certainty.

"How can you be so sure? What if I—"

"You won't," he repeated.

"But if I do?"

"Have I ever been wrong?"

"Yes," she answered, and he looked a little dissatisfied.

"If you fall, I'll catch you. But you won't. Are you satisfied?"

"Mmm." She laid her head back down on his chest, where she could feel the thump of his heartbeat against her ear. "Naru, after all, I… I…"

"What is it?"

"I…" She lapsed into silence. "I think we should put the certificate away," she finished lamely.

He let out a soft snort. "We can do that later."

"What if we forget?"

"What if you forget, you mean."

"What if I forg—oh, fine," she relented. "Then, later…"

"Hmm," he answered absently. "Mai."

"Mmm?"

He traced a loose strand of her hair that curved haphazardly over the sheets. "I suppose I am in love with you after all."

(Less than) One week left

"What are we doing here?" Naru asked irritably.

"Boss," Yasuhara admonished, "You can't decline to go to your own bachelor party."

He exhaled. "This is a waste of time."

"Don't say that. John and Takigawa-san and I put all of our hearts into planning this, isn't that right?"

The monk grinned crookedly, while John gave him a half-hearted, apologetic smile.

"Do you realize," Takigawa said with a mock sigh, "That you are the least interesting person in the world to plan a bachelor party for, with possibly the exception of Lin? You don't drink, you have absolutely no interest in anything other than parapsychology—"

"—and you can't even partake in a healthy seafood fest," Yasuhara added.

Takigawa nodded. "Of course, your, shall we say, 'specific' set of interests actually makes the challenge quite worth it. We really had to rack our brains to come up with this one. By the way, you'd better enjoy this, since this is a once-in-a-lifetime event—"

"—Unless you get remarried," Yasuhara interjected. "But, since we're hoping that doesn't happen, we're making this one extra stimulating. And besides, you probably need the distraction to take your mind off of where Masako is dragging Taniyama off to."

"Which is?"

Hook, line, and sinker, the young businessman mouthed furtively to the monk, who attempted to hide his chuckle.

"I wouldn't know," Yasuhara said with feigned regret. "Masako refused to tell me. All she said was that she was, quote, 'going to get that stupid ten-year-old to grow up a little.'"

"She's already well past the legal age of adulthood," Naru pointed out with just the tiniest hint of annoyance.

"Yes, well, take it up with them, not me," Yasuhara shrugged. "Besides, I don't think they were talking about chronological age, in which case the answer is still up in the air—unless you'd like to supply testimony on the matter?" He ventured with a glint in his eye.

Naturally, the researcher refused to take the bait.

"Well," Takigawa began, picking the conversation back up with a sage-like cough, "Since this is your last week as a free man, it seems like the customary indulgences are in order. Of course, this is made a little bit difficult by the fact that you hardly seem to notice the other six billion, nine hundred and ninety-nine million, nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine people on this planet, clothed or not. Therefore, in order to lead you on the path to temptation, we decided that it was necessary to cater to your incredibly specific preferences."

Naru glanced at John, who gave him a helpless shrug.

"And this explains why we're headed for the zoo, how?"

"Not just the zoo," Yasuhara emphasized. "The monkey exhibit."

One day left

She was already dozing off on the sofa by the time he returned that night, but she stirred when he draped a blanket over her and pressed his lips softly against her forehead.

"You're going to catch a cold," he told her.

She yawned and stretched widely. "Idiots can't catch colds," she mumbled drowsily. "Did you meet with Madoka and Luella? Is everything done?"

"A last-minute disagreement over table arrangements," he snorted, settling in beside her and clasping her hand. "But that's been settled."

"Sorry. I was going to go, but…" Her eyes still fluttered only half-open at best, and only for a span of seconds at a time.

"Hara-san kept you out for that long?" He asked dryly.

"Mmm… A bit… But then… couldn't sleep…"

"Really?" He tried to sound as disinterested as possible.

"Others… wouldn't leave me alone…"

"The others?"

"Taka and Kasai… and Keiko… and Michiru… and…"

He let out a breath that he hoped didn't sound like a sigh of relief. "Yasuhara seemed to be under the impression that you were off doing something uncharacteristic for you," he remarked off-handedly.

That seemed to get her attention, though, and she blinked awake in alarm. "He did?" She asked nervously.

"It seems like Hara-san was the one who gave him that notion," he probed, raising an eyebrow.

"She did?" Her voice rose an octave.

He paused. "Is it something I should be concerned about?"

"… No?" She said, but it came out too uncertainly to be persuasive.

"So what were you doing?"

"You're not supposed to ask," she protested. "The point is that you don't ask."

"Popular depiction would imply that that's the case, but realistically speaking—"

"How would you know anything about 'popular depiction'?" She demanded. "Have you ever watched a romance movie in your life?"

"That's not the point," he said, a little impatiently. "I meant that if you've experienced any circumstantial changes that might concern both of us, naturally—"

"Why would there be anything like that?" She blurted out, a little too quickly. Her hands flew to her mouth when she realized her slip-up, and he sighed.

"There was," he stated.

"… Yes," she finally admitted, lowering her head.

"And? What was it?"

Her face colored bright red in what was definitely not a promising omen. "P… Practice…?"

"Of what kind?"

She mumbled something inaudible, burrowing under the blankets with a hopeless look on her face.

"What?" He practically had to duck his own head under the covers to pick up what she was saying. When he finally pieced her words together, he looked at her incredulously. "That's it?"

"What do you mean, 'That's it?'" She demanded. "It's a big deal, isn't it?"

"You're an idiot," he said in exasperation. "You have no right to tell me that I can't take a hint ever again."

"But it's true. You can't take a hint. See, even now, you're…"

"For heavens' sake, Mai, it's no secret that you're slow."

"I was trying to fix that!" She said defensively.

"I can wait," he informed her with a snort. When she looked at him dubiously, he added, "I have more patience than you, at least."

"Well," she muttered. "I wanted to be able to say it tomorrow, at least."

"You'll have plenty of other things to say tomorrow," he said dryly.

"I know, but it's the start of our life together, after all…"

"It's a big event thrown to satisfy our families and officially announce our status to other people," he pointed out. "It's not the start of anything concrete—not even our legal marriage."

"Fine, fine," she grumbled. "You're always right, aren't you?"

"So you do admit it."

"What if it takes years, though?"

He sighed. "I am hardly going to die for the lack of three words."

"What if it takes hundreds of years?"

"Well," he told her with amusement, "If you can still remember your goal by then, I would be impressed."

Her nose wrinkled in a pout, but her fingers tightened their grip on his hand. "Naru, I do like you, you know. A lot. More than I'd ever imagined."

"I know."

"I wouldn't be able to imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else. I can't even imagine not having met you."

"I know."

"You're the most important person in my life, I think."

He raised an eyebrow. "You can say all of that, but that still embarrasses you?"

"Well," she mumbled. "It's different."

"Different how?"

"Because, when I start thinking about it, I freeze up. I guess I just can't figure out how to put it into words. How much I love you, I mean."

A/N: I'm sorry, Masako. This is a cheesy romance story, after all.

*Disclaimer: I am aware that there are people in Alaska. Very wonderful people, I'm sure.

(I have made a lot of extremely eyebrow-raising google searches in the name of writing in my life, but the series that went into wedding planning was probably the most awkward, mostly because all of the websites kept trying to convince me to plan the happiest day of my life, yet I found myself silently justifying why I was on all of these bridal pages planning the wedding of two fictional people instead of my own, or anyone who actually, you know, exists.)

Anyways, now that I'm done dying of secondhand (and firsthand) embarrassment, thank you for reading, and I hope you had a good time!