Rating: T

Disclaimer: "The Irregular at Magic High School" is the property of Satou Tsutomu. The fanfic author is not making any money from this story.

Author's Note: Although the English anime subtitles call Kichijouji Shinkurou "George," I'll be using "Kichijouji," like the light novel. In Japanese, Masaki calls him "Jouji," so I will have Masaki do that in my stories, too. Obviously, "Jouji" is a nickname from Kichijouji, but "Jouji" is also the Japanese version of "George." (Satou is being clever.)

This Kiss

The end of high school wasn't the end of high school without prom. And prom for the class of 2098 at Third High had to include Ichijou Masaki or no one was going to count it as the prom.

Of course, if Ichijou Masaki was going to suffer through prom, so was Kichijouji Shinkurou.

And so, with only two weeks left until prom, Masaki and Kichijouji were ordered by Mrs. Ichijou to head out and rent their tuxes.

Likewise, with only two weeks left until prom, Masaki had received not one but nine offers from girls, seeing as how the girls of Third High knew Masaki didn't initiate dates and things. Meanwhile, Kichijouji had three girls eyeing him up as well.

As of yet, neither one of them had picked a girl.

Kichijouji and Masaki arrived at the Ichijou family's preferred rental place and found a dozen different styles of tuxes in a dozen different colors.

"Oh, god," Kichijouji groaned, looking around the shop. "This is going to be a nightmare. I can just feel it."

"I don't know . . . some of these would look pretty cute on you." Masaki picked through one of the racks.

Cute? Kichijouji wondered. I don't think I've ever heard him say that word in his life. He busied himself picking through an adjacent rack. I wish you'd think I'm cute.

Masaki's nose wrinkled. "Most of these are hideous. Why would any man get caught dead in these?" Then he found the deep red one. He grabbed it off the rack. "Jouji, you have to go with this one. Look. It's exactly the color of your eyes. And it's cut for a slender guy with narrow shoulders." He held out the tux in awe.

But then, Masaki couldn't resist adding, "If you do wear it, at least three girls are going to pounce you and try to take it back off." He grinned. "Abstinence training or no abstinence training."

Kichijouji had blushed at Masaki's initial assessment, but then, not expecting the added teasing, he burst into laughter. "Masaki!" He managed to sound half-amused and half-scandalized. Then an impish smile stole over his lips. "Okay. Fine. I'll try it on." He plucked the tux from Masaki's fingers.

Masaki grinned. "Good." He picked out for himself a classic black tuxedo because the English-style suit was the only one with broad enough shoulders.

They both vanished into the dressing rooms. Given it was a slow afternoon, one of the employees hovered nearby to see if the tuxes would need any adjustment. The store was so high-end that even the rental tuxes were adjusted if the customer paid for it.

Kichijouji stepped out first, making his way to the three-paneled mirror. Like Masaki had noted, the tux was made for a small man—someone thin with slender shoulders. As a result, it fit him perfectly, except for being an inch too long in the legs. Kichijouji turned right and then left, sizing up the overall effect. The white shirt was basic, but the tux itself came with a crimson vest with gold buttons. The coat was retro, slimmer at the waist and flaring out at the bottom. It was long, like his school uniform, and didn't have tails. The pants were a matching crimson with a black satin stripe down each side.

The sound of a door opening cued Kichijouji to Masaki's arrival, and he used the mirror to sight Masaki as he stepped out. "Well? Does this work?"

Masaki was speechless. It's even better than I thought. He nodded slowly. He'd already wished he could find a way to dance with Kichijouji at the prom. Now he felt an outright pang. "You look like a prince," he murmured. "I revise my estimate to seven girls, at least. They're going to make you dance until your feet are sore."

A prince? Kichijouji had to fight off a blush. "I doubt it. You're the prince. But just in case, I better rent the most comfortable pair of shoes they have to offer." He faced Masaki and sized up the tux. It was classic. Chic. And it fit Masaki's shoulders perfectly, showing off his broad, athletic frame. Kichijouji failed to fight off the blush this time. Literally the sexiest man alive. "You'll slay them," he said flatly. "Some of those girls would steal your virginity after the prom, if you were of the mind to lose it."

Behind the register, the employee dropped a box of pins. Kichijouji wanted to laugh. Is it because I referenced sex? Or because I applied a traditionally female concept to a boy? If you're going to be a prude, be an equal opportunity prude.

Masaki flushed. "I don't want my virginity stolen! You better keep an eye on me and make sure I'm okay. And escort me home afterwards." I want my first time to be with you, but I don't see that ever happening.

"I'll keep an eye on you," Kichijouji murmured. Both eyes. And I'd kill to be able to escort you home afterwards. Or have you escort me. Or both, technically.

The employee inched their way with the rescued box of pins. "Shall we hem up your pants, sir?" he asked Kichijouji.

Kichijouji stepped up on the tailor's platform. "Yes, please."

And, without further ado, Masaki and Kichijouji managed to secure their tuxes.

The following day at school left them with the task of securing their dates.

Kichijouji walked alongside Masaki as they headed to the cafeteria. "Of the three girls shooting me longing stares, I think my best option is Iga Rei. She's extroverted, and she has a good sense of humor. And the last thing I want are a bunch of awkward silences." He peered up at Masaki. If I could just go as your date, then the night would be perfect. "Hey, Masaki. Do you think we could pull off a double date?"

"Of course," Masaki said. "That would make me feel better, too. I don't know what I'm going to do." He sighed. Over the course of the day, he'd been texted messages during class, found actual paper notes in his locker, been ambushed on the way to the bathroom, and one girl had spontaneously burst out crying. He dreaded what lunch was going to be like.

Kichijouji stepped into the lunchroom and discovered a dozen sets of eyes immediately pinned on Masaki. "Won't this be fun?" He headed with Masaki toward the buffet line. "I've known you for five years now. And for five years—with the single exception of Yotsuba Miyuki—your only reaction to girls has been 'Eeh' or 'Well, she's nice' or 'I guess she's pretty.' You could literally ask at least a dozen girls in here out on a date, and probably at least three of them would sleep with you. And yet here you are, frowning." He picked up a tray and turned to Masaki, taking in said frown. "After all this time, I have to ask . . . why?" He set the tray down on the buffet rails and added a plate and utensils.

Masaki flushed, instantly sweating. "Well – because – it's not like that for me. I'm not trying to sleep with anyone or take advantage of anyone or marry anyone this early. I want to feel something for someone."

Kichijouji slid his tray along, analyzing the day's offerings. It was a wild mix of Eastern and Western food. He spooned out some rice and picked carefully from both the fish and chicken. "But I think your father wants you to marry sooner rather than later." So thank god the Yotsuba won't budge. "I don't envy that. I honestly don't think I could seriously date someone I wasn't friends with first." He passed a critical eye over the grilled vegetables. They looked too crispy still. He preferred his grilled vegetables to be floppy—grilled dead with a tombstone already in place.

Masaki followed Kichijouji, picking food mostly at random. He couldn't concentrate. "N-No. I couldn't, either. So what am I supposed to do? No girl will be friends with me. It's social suicide. She'd be bullied by all the other girls out of jealousy." He sighed. "I wish it were all right to date boys. At least boys will be friends with me."

Kichijouji felt an intense heat scald his face as he blushed. "Ah—right." He discovered the yakisoba with grilled vegetables mixed in and grabbed some. "Well, all these girls are friends with you, in a very light and social way. They chat you up at school every day. But you're right. If one of them moves in for the kill, the other girls will tear her limb-from-limb." He nabbed a bean pastry off the end display and headed for the drinks. If only I could be your boyfriend. "Although, for the record, I think there are actually three boys here who do have crushes on you." In addition to me.

Masaki, now ahead of Kichijouji, dropped his can of green tea and winced at it cracked to the floor. He picked it up and turned to his friend. "Three?"

Surprised by the fumble, Kichijouji set this tray on the drink bar and turned back to Masaki. "Yeah. Three. Like Hachiman Noritaka in our Applied Magic Theory class." He grimaced. "Don't let on you know, though. He's trying really hard to hide it." He turned and fished out a can of apricot green tea—one of his little pleasures in life.

Masaki looked away. "I won't." What about you? He supposed he couldn't expect Kichijouji o confess in a crowded cafeteria, but he knew he probably wouldn't get a confession anyway because he couldn't expect Kichijouji to return his feelings.

Interesting reaction. He seems . . . subdued. Kichijouji picked up his tray and headed to "their" table. Could he possibly . . .? Kichijouji swallowed carefully and put his mind to the task at hand. "Well, to solve your problem, I have a suggestion: Adachi Kimi. She's quiet, sweet, and shy. She has the manners and etiquette of a princess from the Ten Master Clans, and she's smart." It was a close to Masaki's speed at Kichijouji could get him. "Also, her best friend will beat the hell out of any girl who tries to bully her afterwards."

Masaki sighed with relief as he sat down next to Kichijouji. "Thank you. I really couldn't figure this out without you. Now I know I can survive the prom."

Kichijouji grinned at him. "No problem." Just don't go and get a crush on her.

That was as much time as they had to speak alone. Four girls descended upon their table—the usual four who sat with them every day—all of them bursting with ideas about their final project in Applied Magic Theory.

Kichijouji set aside his romantic troubles and lost himself in shop talk with Ichijou Masaki's Dedicated "Harem."

Two weeks passed. Mrs. Ichijou shuffled Masaki and Kichijouji through things like restaurant reservations and corsages and reminded them of details like picking up their tuxes and securing the limo for the night.

At five o'clock on the evening of the prom, Kichijouji found himself in Masaki's bedroom, waging World War IV with his black bowtie. It was a real one—the kind he had to tie, not a clip-on—and it was giving him fits. Every time he touched it, it ended up lopsided.

Masaki didn't look like he was fairing much better.

"We may have to get your mom to help," Kichijouji groaned, dropping his arms.

"I wish there was a spell for this." Masaki's lips twitched. "What do you want to bet that Shiba Tatsuya has written and programmed one already, and this is a Third High problem?"

Kichijouji laughed.

They did call in Masaki's mother, who had both their bowties done and straightened in record time.

That settled, Kichijouji grabbed his coat and slipped it on. He glanced Masaki's way and noticed his collar was uneven. "Wait," he said as Masaki reached for his own coat. "Your collar is messed up." He stepped over, reaching up and straightening the collar.

Then Kichijouji just found himself standing there, staring at the side of Masaki's neck as an aroused heat settled in his abdomen. Why did that effect me so much? Because it was such a personal, familiar gesture? He could see Masaki's cute little mole right above his collar, given these coats had shorter collars than their school uniforms. God, that makes me want to lick your neck. He quickly glanced away.

Masaki was blushing. "Thanks. You look okay, I think." Better than okay. Kichijouji was at an all-time high of handsomeness. He wanted Kichijouji's first dance to be with him, but that would be impossible. His self-conscious pleasure at having Kichijouji touch his collar made his chest feel weird. Part of him wanted to laugh just to vent the surge of emotion.

Not trusting himself to speak, Kichijouji nodded and headed downstairs with Masaki. The limo awaited them.

They picked up Masaki's date first, then Kichijouji's, and headed for dinner. Just as Kichijouji had predicted, Rei kept the conversation going, telling fun stories and cracking jokes. Kimi sat quietly, smiling or laughing at the right spots and otherwise eating with the delicate manners of a noblewoman. Masaki barely had to say ten words. Kichijouji stole as many glances at Masaki as he could, drinking in the handsome sight of Masaki in a tux.

On the way to the hosting hotel, which had a massive ballroom decked out in Third High's colors, Kichijouji secretly congratulated himself on a victorious strategy.

The limo dropped them at the lobby doors, and Masaki and Kichijouji linked arms with their dates. Kimi's blush went all the way down her neck. Rei had a spring in her step.

"You're just so cute, Kichijouji-kun!" Rei grinned at him. "Well, you're handsome in that tux. But you're always cute! Hot damn, I'm one lucky broad."

Kichijouji, having long since become accustomed to Rei's boldness and wacky humor, just let himself be pulled along to the ballroom.

Masaki escorted Kimi with thought about her high-heeled shoes, something his mother had drilled into him. As a result, Kimi looked like a delicate blown glass ornament instead of a kidnapping victim. He was relieved that a few smiles were enough to keep Kimi engaged and enjoying herself. He didn't really know what to say. He was a little busy looking at Kichijouji.

As soon as they entered the room and the music rushed over them, Rei dragged Kichijouji out onto the dance floor. Kichijouji had a brief moment to wonder if she would be leading him during the dancing, but she settled into the traditional position. Still, he was nearly whisked off his feet as they began dancing.

A quick glance around the room proved Kichijouji's suspicions about how this night would go: over a dozen sets of eyes were pinned to Masaki. Kimi would be fighting an uphill battle to get in more than a few dances with him.

Lucky girls, Kichijouji thought. And poor Masaki.

Masaki danced with Kimi carefully, and the slower they had to go because of Kimi's shoes, the more romantic Masaki was certain it looked. He found himself dancing with someone else every other dance. Some of them had hungry looks, and others were shy and bright red, evidently participating through peer pressure to get their Magical Dance With Masaki. Masaki quickly turned his brain off. I'm just a commodity.

As he danced, he watched Kichijouji whenever he could.

Most of Kichijouji's dances were with Rei, but the other two girls with crushes on him did approach. Knowing his role in this matter, Kichijouji offered them dances as well. This got him two more girls. Masaki's estimate turned out to be fairly close. Kichijouji had danced with five girls total, and they still had half of the dance left to go.

After another round with Rei, Kichijouji begged for mercy and retreated to the punch bowl. Rei plopped down at a table with her friends and pulled off her shoes, having admitted her feet were killing her.

Kichijouji's feet didn't hurt, given how much more sensible men's shoes were, but if he didn't get some personal space, he was going to explode. He glanced around, searching for Masaki, and found him also headed toward the punch table. Oh, good. Let's create a two-man safety space. He joined him immediately.

Masaki drank two cups of punch and wiped his forehead. "I need air. Want to come with me?" After watching the passionate gazes aimed Kichijouji's way, and how the light in the ballroom brought out the gleam in Kichijouji's hair, he thought he was going to go crazy if he didn't get some of Kichijouji's time for himself, no matter how small a piece.

"Sure," Kichijouji said. "How far away can we escape?" He made it sound like a joke, but he wasn't joking. He downed the rest of his punch. Yes. Take me somewhere so I can just be alone with you, even if all you want to do is complain about your date.

"The roof?" Masaki suggested.

Kichijouji laughed. "Yeah. That'll be far enough away, all right." He threw away his cup and told Rei he'd be back in fifteen minutes or so. Rei just grinned and agreed, already deep into entertainer mode with her friends.

As soon as Masaki informed Kimi and deposited her in the safe keeping of her best friend, he and Kichijouji made their escape. They rode the elevator to the top floor and then used the employee's access to get to the roof. They discovered a dozen lines worth of high-quality linen sheets hanging out to dry in the warm spring air. Even after all this time, some people still preferred line drying.

Kichijouji walked between two lines, following behind Masaki. The white sheets fluttered in the breeze, brushing against them.

Masaki took a deep breath. The wind and the cleansing smell of fresh linen revived him. He glanced at Kichijouji. "It's magical up here. Almost like we're in another world." A world in which I could ask you out on a date. He blushed just at the thought. Nope. It's still this world.

They reached the end of the lines. A safety fence surrounded the entire area, but they still had a good view of the city. Lights glittered below them, the hotel being one of the tallest buildings. The night sky was filled with stars and a three-quarters moon, which left them in a glow. They stood side-by-side in silence.

Kichijouji slid his gaze over to Masaki. You've been different ever since you saw me in this tux. You even mentioned dating boys. And now you've pulled me out of the dance. But am I reading too much into this situation? Am I just imagining what I most wish to see?

Masaki looked out at the city. "Surely we live in a big enough place to accept big things. New things. Innovations happen every day." He knew he was vaguely venting, but he couldn't help it. All his life his father had warned him about "Clan Image." He didn't think he could cope with that much longer.

"You would say so," Kichijouji said. "You're an idealistic person, and in the best way possible. And I would say so, given I'm dedicated to innovations in magical science. We're both what personality tests call 'intuitive.' And neither one of us seek to uphold tradition just for the sake of tradition. Even when you do your 'duty' as a member of the Ten Master Clans, you do it because you uphold it as a part of your idealism." He canted his head. "Why? What innovation do you wish to see? Or what do you wish to accept?" Depending on Masaki's answer, he was going to pounce. This may be the only clear shot I get at this. Let me see into you Masaki. Just a little bit more.

Masaki looked at Kichijouji , startled, and blush leapt into his cheeks. "What? I – What do I want?" Ask him to dance! his mind screamed at him. "Well, I don't see why boys can't – men can't – it is a celebration, after all. A celebration of us, as seniors. We should do what we want." His palms were suddenly sweaty. He held out his hand, but it was trembling. "Would you – Would you – "

Aroused heat cracked through Kichijouji's body, and then his fondness for Masaki welled up in his chest. You're adorable. "I would love to dance." He took Masaki's hand and stepped up to him. He peered up at Masaki with what he suspected had to be blatant love. "I won't promise not to step on your toes, though." He grinned. "After all, I'm used to leading. But we'll get the hang of it." He rested his free hand on Masaki's shoulder.

Masaki couldn't even get out words. He took Kichijouji into his arms, his whole body flushed. Finally, he got out, "Okay." He'd never felt so ridiculously, simply happy before. He clung to Kichijouji's hand and started dancing right there, beside the billowing sheets.

Heat and bliss bloomed through Kichijouji's body. For the first minute, he just gazed up at Masaki's beautiful face and the cute blush. He found out that with Masaki leading, only the first few steps were awkward. Then they were flowing. Finally he couldn't take it anymore. He pressed closer and rested his head on Masaki's shoulder. This is the most perfect day of my life. Keep your arms around me, Masaki. Don't ever let go. He let his eyes drift shut and just drank in Masaki's essence: the feeling of his muscles through his clothing, the smell of his cologne, his warmth, the sound of his breathing. Perfect.

Masaki cupped the small of Kichijouji's back, cradling Kichijouji closer as they danced. It was pure body memory. All his senses were taken up with Kichijouji: how noble Kichijouji looked and how surreal their surroundings were, almost like a scene from a movie. How he smelled Kichijouji's shampoo, which had a sweet scent. His fingertips tingled. He wished he could kiss him, but he had no idea how Kichijouji was feeling. Their bodies moved in time with such grace it far surpassed anyone Masaki had danced with before.

Kichijouji let time pass, enough time to have danced twice had there been music, and then drew to a stop without letting go of Masaki. He gazed up at Masaki and felt the peace threading through them both. "I think I fell in love with you the moment I met you," he murmured. "I knew I wanted to be your date tonight, and I knew I wanted to dance with you. I just wasn't sure about what you were feeling, and I was afraid of ruining our friendship. But it looks like we're on the same page." He lifted his face. "So I want you to kiss me now."

Startled, embarrassed heat cracked through Masaki. He's onto me! He dived in and pressed their lips together, holding Kichijouji tightly, before he could lose his nerve. Let this work. Please! And then the sheer heat, the intensity, and the solidity of mouthing Kichijouji's lips rushed through him. He found himself stroking the back of Kichijouji's neck lightly.

All of Kichijouji's remaining tension fled, and he moaned softly. We've got the spark. We work. And then he fell into the sensations, Masaki's arms tight around him and Masaki's tongue slipping into his mouth. For a moment, the only things in the world were magic and this kiss. Everything else just fell away. Kichijouji returned the kiss, caressing Masaki's tongue in return.

Masaki was flustered, but he felt great. Every time he thought the kiss might end, one or the other of them renewed it, trading caresses, tasting each other's mouths, lightly sucking on lower lips. Once their teeth accidentally clacked together, which made them both chuckle, and then they were kissing again. Masaki slowly stroked Kichijouji's hair. He felt himself stirring hard, and only when the sensation bordered on painful did he stop and press his face against Kichijouji's hair, shivering and breathing in Kichijouji's sweet scent. "I love you," he whispered.

Kichijouji hugged Masaki to him tightly. "I love you, too." He felt as though every ounce of turmoil in his soul had been temporarily silenced. He felt giddy. He felt new. "Let's give our dates two more dances, take them home, and then go hide in my dorm room where no one can barge in on us or interrupt us." He had a private room. "Let's curl up on my bed and hold each other. For one night, none of the rest of the world will exist."

Masaki nodded. He caressed Kichijouji's hair again. "Yes. For this night, there will only be you and me."

Kichijouji smiled.