the road was filled with twists and turns, but that's the road that got us here

come so far (got so far to go), hairspray

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The sun is peeking shyly through the blinds when Rinka wakes up, and all she really wants to do is to go back to sleep. It is six o'clock in the morning, by her estimate, but it is a Saturday and, in her head, she is supposed to be allowed to be lazy. Her body clock disagrees, however, because it has been programmed to wake up at such ungodly hours unconditionally. She would usually give in to her cursed body clock and start her day with a workout or with breakfast at a nearby cafe on lazy days like Saturdays, but today is different because the figure sleeping soundly next to her is a more than compelling reason for her to not leave the bed.

It's funny, she thinks, that just five years ago, she and Chiba had been denying that anything romantic had been going on between them, yet here they are together, under a shared blanket, lying in a single bed after a night of intimacy.

Then again, maybe five years ago, there really wasn't anything romantic going on between them. Everything that had to do with them as a pair back in middle school revolved around missions, battles, guns, academics, failed assassination attempts, and making Koro-sensei and the rest of their teachers proud. They had gone out as just the two of them multiple times that year, sure, but only to sharpen their skills one way or another.

At least, that's what Rinka remembers telling herself back then, but now she isn't sure if her middle school self was even convinced by that. After all, many of the times she and Chiba had gone out as a pair were initiated by her – this she has no reason to deny.

She smiles at how Chiba scrunches his nose. It is adorable and is something he would never do if he were awake, and Rinka is happy that she is able to bear witness to quirks he has which others don't have the privilege of seeing. His back is flush against the bed, so she has to lean above him to see his face and she softens at how peaceful he looks.

She knows that somewhere between the study sessions, the marksmanship practices, and the multiple partner missions they had been assigned to complete in middle school, she had fallen for one of her closest allies and bestest friends.

Rinka settles back on her pillow and lies down on her side so that she's looking at Chiba's lying figure. They are in the apartment Rinka shares with Kataoka, and they are lucky that Chiba has chosen to visit on a weekend when Kataoka is out. It isn't that Kataoka's presence (or today's lack thereof) matters much, since it is not as if Kataoka is an unwelcome part of their lives, but Rinka savors the moments she has alone with Chiba because, nowadays especially, those moments are scarce.

Very slowly, Rinka reaches down beneath the blankets that cover them in search of Chiba's hand. It doesn't take long to find the palm of the hand of the arm that is further away from her resting on his stomach. She rests her hand on top of it and feels the gentle rise and fall of his abdomend. It is soothing, and on any other occasion, she probably would have been lulled to sleep with the motion. Chiba has not yet stirred from any of her movements, so Rinka carefully shapes his hand into a fist and brings it across his torso, over to her side of the bed to kiss his knuckles. It is a tender kiss, not dissimilar to those she had been showered in by him the previous night. She links her fingers in his and rests both their hands against the beating of her heart. There is a feeling of normalcy and security to have their hands cradled at her chest, so Rinka makes a note at the back of her mind to do this more often.

She stares at their interlaced fingers affectionately. When Rinka thinks back to the moments she and Chiba had shared, a memory she thinks most fondly of is when they first held hands; it was so shy, so new, so innocent.

While their friendship had undoubtedly deepened during high school – their schools had (coincidentally) been nearby each other's, so meeting up twice a week for coffee, or dinner, or a round or two at the shooting range had not been an issue – nothing had indicated any notable regress or progress in their relationship until their first year of college. It was then when Chiba had started going forty-five minutes out of his way, on more than a few occasions, to visit Rinka at her apartment.

She won't openly admit it, but she had been deeply moved by his actions that her middle school crush on him grew to a companionable camaraderie, to becoming a constant support pillar in his live, to her getting insides being reduced to a puddle of goo each time her hand brushed Chiba's when they would accidentally get popcorn from the bowl at the same time, or each time their knees would bump underneath the table as, across from them, Kataoka would rant about her extra-curricular stress.

It was sometime during that year when, seated on a couch which was too big for one person but too snug for two (it had been the only vacant seat), in some coffee house a good distance away from where either of them resided, Chiba, as coy and as discreet as he could, reached out for Rinka's hand, which was sitting idly at her lap. There was a pause at the sudden bold action, and neither knew what to do next, but Rinka can distinctly recall the red on Chiba's face, the uncertainty in his voice moments later when he asked her, "Is this okay?", the amount of butterflies that fluttered inside of her at the tenderness of everything, and her breathless affirmation as a response.

The same butterflies still present themselves to her each time their hands are entwined, and she still revels in that feeling.

Rinka wonders if Chiba might have felt the flutter of the butterflies at her chest because he wakes up. She becomes aware of this not because he opens his eyes, but because he groggily mutters a small "Hayami" and he turns to the side so that they are facing each other. He releases his hand from her hold and uses it to tuck whatever stray strands of her hair his hand can find behind her ear before he slides the hand down across her jaw, passing her shoulder, tracing the grooves of her back, and ending its journey at Rinka's waist, all the while sending shivers down every patch of skin it had travelled across. His movements are languid but purposeful, she notes, because the next thing she's aware of is that she is pulled closer to him so that there is hardly any space left between their bodies. She has barely any time to be startled because a pair of lips meet hers for a quick peck and only then does she allow herself to take in what had just happened. Then she smiles and nestles herself closer as she wraps an arm around Chiba's torso and rests her face against his chest.

Rinka is not always so boldly intimate because she has always been the type to not draw attention to herself and, for the most part, she is thankful that Chiba is pretty much the same; public displays of affection always draw unwanted attention, so those are things they tend to avoid. That does not mean that she does not, in her own secret ways, attempt to find out what kind of affection Chiba enjoys.

Chiba is extremely sensitive to touch, and Rinka knows this and knows how to take advantage of this (for his benefit, she claims, but also for hers, she knows). She knows how much he loves the way she creeps up behind him to massage his back, how she is able to relieve the tension he holds in his muscles, and how she easily makes him relax to the movement of her fingers. She is deliberate in the way she handles him; no touch is too hard or soft, or too fast or slow for no reason.

She knows that a gentle hand on his knee, rubbing in circular motions, helps him calm down when he gets agitated at the amount of plates he has to complete. She allows that, when he takes her on a drive, his right hand is gently resting on her thigh when the hand is idle. She likes taking the lead when they are making love because she loves how he writhes when she brushes her face along his jawline, collarbone and down his chest, how he squirms when she caresses the parts where he is sensitive, and how he makes a symphony of sounds when she takes him in.

Her lips on his skin is his favorite sensation, and she is always so generous in giving him his favorites.

Rinka feels Chiba's hand run up and down her back and when she looks up, he is staring at her intently from behind his bangs. He dips his head and meets his lips to hers for a second time that morning. It is deeper than the earlier kiss and it sends Rinka's fingers to curl in Chiba's hair. When they break apart, she is breathless and his breath matches hers.

"Morning," Chiba mutters groggily. Rinka shivers at the rumble of his voice through his chest and is pulled into a tighter hug. "You're up early." Rinka hums in response. He returns to lying down on his back and she adjusts herself so that she is lying on his chest, brushing his hair up so that she can see his eyes clearly. The red is locked on her and she feels his arms tighten around her as she kisses his nose, his cheek, then his neck.

"Go back to sleep," she murmurs against his neck. She feels him kiss the top of her head.

She doesn't say more than she needs to, but there are times when Rinka says less than she should which, partnered with Chiba's lack of articulation, has sometimes become the cause of their disagreements. Their disagreements would usually end up with a few days of not contacting each other because Rinka would need to process what she'd want to say first, lest she say something she would later regret, and Chiba has his own similar ritual. They would eventually make up when Rinka would visit Chiba's apartment in turn, and he would initiate the conversation. She knows that, for the most part, he would be unable to spout out the words he had been practicing, but she will always be able to read between the lines and know what he'd want to say. She would say exactly what she wants to say in words, but she is aware of the lack of emotion behind it. Still, she finds it a miracle that he can see the intent behind her bland tone. It is a strange dynamic that they are continuously working on, because they both know that not everything can be solved in such a manner.

"Come back to sleep with me," Chiba says against her hair. "It's too early."

"I always wake up this early."

"Then," Chiba offers, "should I sing you to sleep?" Rinka laughs because she knows they contrast in their choice of music. She nevertheless hears Chiba start humming a melody, but she can't tell if it's self-made or not. She thinks the former, because Chiba has a habit of composing short tunes for her.

It is quiet, except for Chiba's humming and she loses herself in the sound. She leans deeper into the rise and fall of Chiba's chest and matches her inhales and exhales with his even breathing.

Eventually, by some wonder that disrupts her cursed body clock, she is able to join Chiba in peaceful slumber.

Rinka has heard people speak praises of how lucky Chiba is to have her in his life, but she disagrees. If anything, she is lucky to have someone in her life who understands her, who doesn't ask for too much but also doesn't settle for too little of her, and who pushes her to become a better person.