NOTES: This happens after Firsts. In my mind, Firsts really is still a stand-alone story that's over and nothing comes after it. And yet, this fic definitely relies on the assumption that Firsts happened. More like a window into one possible day in a post-Firsts life, rather than any kind of sequel. Possibly it's an AU of that story? Aw, hell, I don't know. I just wrote the damn thing, that's all.

Random Inspiration

Puff. Puff.

Dammit, there it was again.

Eggs and sugar, he told himself. Souma Kyou had learned early in life that the key was to stand your ground. Pretend they're not getting to you.

Puff. Puff. Puff.

Not getting to you. That was the key. He got another bowl out, and set a small pot of water to boil.

Pufffff. Pufffff. Pufffff.

The thing was, he wasn't good at not letting it get to him.

True, it did make life easier that Uotani wasn't as clumsy as Tohru. But what she lacked in innocent clumsiness she made up for in deliberate provocation.

At times like this, for instance.

Kyou slitted his eyes and glared at the intruder in his kitchen. He was under no illusion that this would result in any change of behavior, but if he couldn't get the damn girl to leave him alone, at least he could make his feelings known.

Not that he wanted her to leave him alone, per se. But some personal space would be nice. And maybe someone not blowing little puffs of air directly at his ear.

"Do you have to stand right over my shoulder like that?" he demanded, flushing with simultaneous anger and embarrassment.

The girl beamed at him and folded her arms, her unspoken gesture of (temporary) truce. "I don't have to. . .but it's so much fun to watch you get all huffy, Kyon-Kyon."

He began to grumble and then forcibly cut himself off, realizing he was being baited. Uotani Arisa, Complicater of His Life, Invader of the Kitchen of His Master's Dojo, General Nuisance, and his Sort-of-Almost-Girlfriend-Thing, miraculously backed off for the moment and went to lean against the corner of the counter.

Kyou breathed a sigh of relief.

He wasn't sighing because he'd kind of liked having her so close to him and then she'd gone.

No. Well--okay, so maybe it was sort of not actually bad that--Argh, why can't I even say it inside my own mind? he hissed internally. Just spit it out, already! It's been almost a year! You'd think you'd be used to it by now!

Okay, it wasn't bad that--it was kind of almost okay that--damn it--

"Kyou babe, there's beating eggs and then there's pulverizing them," he heard someone say, and he remembered where he was and what he was doing in time to save his cake batter from turning into meringues.

He took a deep breath.

Okay, fine, it was maybe kind of actually sort of nice having someone so close to him, but there was still something not-nice about it, too. It made him feel tense. It grated on his nerves, and there had also been way too many occasions when a girl around him while he was trying to navigate a room had led to tripping and falling and hugging and a frantically apologizing Tohru. Granted, the Yankee girl was steadier on her feet than Tohru, and in the almost-year that they'd had this--thing--he'd managed to keep from wrecking everything by not letting her get close the wrong way, but one year couldn't erase the habits of a lifetime, and he couldn't escape the feeling that a girl standing right there in the same tiny kitchen with him was somehow tempting Fate.

"Ah, dammit, it looks like someone ate the strawberries," said the girl in question, peering into the fridge. "Your master has no self-control at all, does he?"

"Hey! Don't insult Shishou!" Kyou spun around to look at her. "Just because he can't keep track of which food is his! He's thinking about other things!"

"Your cousin's dirty romance novels?" Uotani leered. "So, do you check 'em out when he's done?" And then before he could start spluttering she smirked at him and slid neatly out of the kitchen. "I'll make a grocery run!" drifted a sing-songing voice from the front hall.

Well, if anyone was born to tempt Fate, it was Uotani. Sometimes Kyou couldn't tell whether he was spending his time with a girl or a massive headache.

Especially in the past month or two, since she seemed to have made it her hobby to constantly toe the line he'd drawn between them, and then turn around and dance lightly away just as he was about to explode.

Take today, for instance. It was all the damn Yankee's fault he was even baking a Christmas cake in the first place. He didn't even like sweet things. But here he was, in the dojo after school when he could be at home sunning himself on a perfectly nice (if cold) roof, just because Shishou had to ask her about Christmas and she had to say that she hadn't had a homemade Christmas cake ever since the first Christmas without her mom, when her dad had come home drunk and said the one she made didn't taste the same. She always did that--said stuff like that, frank as you please, got all worked up about it and yelled and shook things at people, and then when the sight of her raging made something inside you twist uncomfortably and you shouted "All right! Dammit! I'll make you a damn cake, are you happy now!" she just. . .grinned at you like the entire world was filled with sunshine that you, single-handedly, put there.

And then everything inside just sort of squished at that smile.

It wasn't fair.

Kyou began viciously sifting flour and baking powder together, ignoring the color that rose to his cheeks at the memory.

No, it definitely wasn't fair that she could do this to him.

In the beginning he hadn't expected anything like this--he had been in love with Tohru, or thought he was, and she'd been in love with Tohru, and the damn mouse had gone and complicated everything, and everything had been a stupid mix of want and resent and can't have, and when she'd just waltzed into all of that and demanded his attention he'd sort of assumed whatever happened next would be mercifully brief. She'd find out about him, or she'd lose interest, or he'd decide he couldn't stand her anymore, and it would all be over. But Kyou had warned her that he'd pick fights, and she'd just picked them right back. He'd told her she couldn't hold him or hug him or put her arms around him at all, ever, and she'd said okay. He hadn't let her tell anyone they were dating--for a bunch of reasons including the fact that he'd decided they weren't dating--and she'd been perfectly happy to go along with it.

So this was confusing. For a bunch of reasons.

Even if she didn't leave him, a part of Kyou knew, sooner or later Akito would find out and then the point would be moot, because no matter how tough she thought she was she wasn't that tough.

And yet somehow she was still here, and he couldn't leave, and now he was in a kitchen doing something he'd made a policy of never doing and cooking for her because there was something about her that made him forget to leave her.

They really weren't dating, at least not in the normal sense of the word. On the outside, the normal part of their relationship, everything was basically the same as before. Uotani teased him, and he got mad, and she treated him like a form of entertainment. They picked fights. They yelled at each other and got on each other's nerves. Something about her made him constantly feel like ruffling his fur out until it stood on end.

Edgy.

And yet, Kyou knew that something in the unseeable part was different. There were times. . .well, times where somehow it worked. Where everyone else would be doing something else and he would start walking and she would follow. And it was supposed to get on his nerves but then it didn't. There was just a quiet space and a weird feeling of calm, and the way Uotani had of looking at him--not looking at him--in a way that made him feel like she understood and it terrified him.

But Kyou was used to terror.

And he wasn't an idiot; he could figure out when a change had happened inside himself.

Anyway, if he didn't know, Shishou would point it out. After he'd first met Tohru, Shishou had told him he'd learned to smile. A few weeks ago, Shishou had smiled at him and said "You've gotten calmer."

He knew it.

Even if he still felt edgy around her, he knew it was true. On everything else, the edges were getting softer.

He'd even sort of told Shishou that there was a girl, because he knew Shishou wouldn't laugh at him. Wouldn't say a girl? You? Shishou even had good advice, sometimes. And maybe Kyou needed all he could get, because he was. . .calmer, now.

It was crazy, it didn't make any sense, but there it was.

The world is crazy, Kyou decided. He stirred the melted butter into the bowl, and put the finished batter in two cake pans. Now they just had to bake at 175 degrees. This cake thing was pretty easy. Not that he was about to admit that to Uotani. He stuck the pans into the oven and set the timer. Then he went to the fridge and pulled out the carton of milk, taking a long swig. Milk was so good.

Mmmm, and some batter. Kyou didn't care what anyone said, batter was meant to be licked off the spoon. That was the way it was. He stood there for awhile, leaning with one side against the refrigerator door and staring out the window. Enjoying the alone time. Another sip of milk, and the moment was perfect.

And then, because Fate was toying with him, a pair of hands suddenly came out of nowhere and started tickling his sides, making him spit out the last mouthful he'd drunk. "Dammit!" he screeched, whirling around. "What was that for, you crazy woman!"

And that was the other thing. The touching. He almost never started it, usually kept his distance even when they were really clicking for once, but she was always coming out of nowhere, zinging past his defenses, hands on his arms or fingers on his chest or lips on--Kyou's cheeks reddened.

"You're in my way, Kyon-Kyon," Uotani said brightly. "Other people need to get to the fridge, you know!"

He grumbled at her but moved out of the way.

"That was a fast trip."

"Really?" She unpacked the strawberries--two cartons of them, that must've been expensive--and began putting them in the refrigerator. As she bent over, he watched the hem of her shirt slide along her slim waist, the seam of it that snaked up her side. "Are you sure you weren't just daydreaming, Carrots? You're never going to be a good martial artist if you can't even detect one girl sneaking up on you."

And that was another thing. She was always insulting him! And she always had to call him those stupid annoying nicknames! Stupid girls. Why did he even ever hang out with girls? Hell, other people in general! Argh!

Kyou was starting to work himself into a really good sulk.

At least there was milk. Even if everything else was a pain, milk was still good. He decided to ignore this invader of his space, and took another sip from the carton in his hand, scowling. Hell if he was going to let her provoke him. She could just take her strawberries and her stupid too-low-cut shirt that rode up too much (Kyou's standards for other people's clothing were totally unrelated to his standards for his own), and her stupid happy grin and her stupid incomprehensible interest in him and--

"So crass, Kyon-Kyon. Normal people pour it into a glass, you know."

"You drink it out of the carton too!"

"Sure I do," came the easy agreement. She reached out and grabbed the carton from him, her thin fingers sliding over his. "Tastes better that way."

Kyou watched as she drank, her lips on the same spot that his lips had been. The line of her throat moved as she swallowed. He was almost never the one who initiated their touching; usually she egged him on until he stopped thinking. That very first day in the classroom she'd already made the careless offer--"You can tie me up"--but he'd never dared to take her up on it. Much better, safer to stay as they were, two people who were interested, two people who didn't do much but yell and kiss.

Better that way if he was going to have to leave her.

Because even if he didn't leave her now, she wasn't going to be able to visit him in his room in the Souma compound. He knew better than to get his own hopes up, but she didn't. She didn't know they only had three months left until she would graduate from him to the rest of her life, someplace free where she would find some other guy to bake her cakes and be her entertainment and make her laugh and tie her up.

But Kyou was still a teenaged boy with blood running through his veins. It wasn't as if he looked at her and her mouth and her throat and her breasts pushing against the front of her shirt and didn't think anything.

And Uotani knew what he thought, apparently, because she smirked when she caught him staring. "I saw that," she informed him. "Come on, don't just stand there. You know you--"

"I have to whip the cream," Kyou interrupted her. "Quit blocking the fridge."

But she moved to block his step forward. "Oh, no you don't. Are you saying you don't want it?" Her voice was low, dangerous. "Because if you want it. . ."

And suddenly she lifted the milk carton upside-down, pouring it over herself. It emptied in a sudden stream, separating into little rivers that ran down her face and neck, pooling at her collarbone and then slipping lower, and Kyou's heart was racing so fast his chest was on fire, because somehow it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen in his life. ". . .come and get it, Carrots."

She dropped the carton on the floor.

By the time it landed the blood pounding in his own ears was too loud for him to hear the sound.

And then there was only the sound of Uotani Arisa crashing against the fridge, of the growl he didn't even realize was coming from his own throat, of her mocking laugh swallowed up in his mouth. The vision of her, smirking and beautiful and pouring milk all over herself, was burned into his eyes so that he could still see it when they closed.

He was hard and angry and desperate all at once, dimly aware that his hands pinning her wrists to the freezer door were gripping too tightly, unable to bring himself to care. She didn't, she wasn't fighting back, she was murmuring encouragement he could just barely hear above the roaring sound that was the sight of her, still burning his eyes, compelling him in some way he couldn't name. He met her lips more in the style of an attack than a kiss, ripping at them with his teeth before sliding his tongue inside, trying to pin her and control her stay there stay there stay there as if he were trying to punish her for something.

Kyou was better at this now than he had been; there was no awkward bumping of foreheads anymore, no sudden nausea at the closeness. But in all the times he'd kissed this crazy Yankee he'd never quite gotten used to the heat of it. Friction wasn't supposed to be good. It still made no sense, this smooth slickness building between them and the way he could be this close to another creature and she would try to get close to him back.

Uotani sensed that he was starting to overthink again and bit him. Without thinking he bit back. It sent him instantly careening back into reality and Kyou guiltily realized he was mauling her. He pulled back. But she just grinned her usual stupid grin and kissed his nose.

"Are you laughing at me?" he demanded.

Her breathing was still uneven, but his girl could go from zero to cheeky in two seconds flat. "Me? Laugh at you? Now why would I do a thing like that, Carrots?" She batted her eyelashes with entirely false innocence.

Kyou glared at her suspiciously, unmoved.

"Not because you're so easy to manipulate, or anything."

"You know, you really piss me--"

"I know." Her left hand slipped free from his grip and came down to rest in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. Kyou made a purring sound and let his head fall towards her without even thinking about it.

"Nope," Uotani whispered, "not easy to manipulate at all."

But he couldn't even be angry, because the new angle of his head meant he was looking directly at her neck, and there was a tiny rivulet of milk sliding over the ridge of her chin and making its way down her throat. He stared at it, mesmerized. It was really so tiny, hardly more than a single drop, and it progressed so slowly it was like agony to watch it. Suddenly he wasn't breathing anymore. Uotani had stopped talking, but Kyou didn't notice. The world was very small, and it was getting smaller, and in a sort of dim haze Kyou didn't quite realize that it was getting smaller because his head was moving steadily closer to the drop of milk. The only thing really important in this world--and he gave the issue all the attention it merited--was whether it would slide straight down to that hollow at the base of her throat, or whether it would change course and slide to the right, towards him.

"Kyou. . . ."

Uotani was breathing hard now, and it made her throat move. The droplet veered to the right, and Kyou was very close to it now. So close. . .he could almost. . .he wanted. . . .

No! some faraway voice was shouting. He couldn't, it would wreck everything, she would think he was weird, but he couldn't take his eyes off it, he tried to wrench them away but they wouldn't obey him, and that was crazy because she never worried about whether he was weird, nothing he did ever seemed too strange for her. Hell, she was insane, she was a freak for even wanting to. . .but then he was weird, and. . .she smelled nice. Very nice.

Kyou realized that his lips were hovering just a hair's breadth above her skin. Horrible, desperate sounds filled the air that he didn't recognize as his own. He stopped, shouldn't and want to warring briefly in his mind before her hand ran soothingly through his hair and she said "Shhh, it's okay" and they were irresistibly drowned out by have to have to have to and his tongue flicked out, hesitantly, and licked her.

The first few strokes were reluctant, tongue darting to her neck in small, awkward touches, and then it was all lost in that overwhelming need he couldn't (was afraid to) name. Uotani stood quietly through it all, strangely patient, and let him do what he wanted. Kyou tasted her, sweeping a path across her throat and following every stray trace of the liquid drying on her skin. He lapped it all up with something like greed. His tongue was rough, and as it dried too it sometimes caught at her skin and she made a small whimpering noise.

Kyou pushed at an annoying strand of her hair that was getting in his way, and it released a little burst of milk that slid in a trail right to the V of her shirt and inside it and disappeared between her breasts.

He followed it without thinking, tracing its path downward until his nose bumped against cloth and he paused.

This was uncharted territory.

"Yes," Uotani hissed, her breath coming in harsh rasps. "Do it."

And then in a mess of overlapping seconds her shirt was unbuttoned and his head was inside it and somehow his hand, too, was inside it and everything was very very warm and his girl (his girl, he only called her this in his mind, and only when his mind couldn't stop him) was sliding slowly down the length of the fridge, one hand tangled in his hair to hold him firmly where he was.

Time further confused itself.

His mouth was sucking and his hand was doing something that would make him blush later when he actually thought about it and his other hand didn't really know what to do with itself but Kyou was pretty sure that anything it did would probably be wrong, and his girl, and she was making noises that kind of made his heart feel like water, and everything all seemed to be happening at the same time, and then some alarm bell went off in his mind when he realized it was worse than wrong, that his arm was just about to close around her waist and effectively end his life.

And then a real bell started to ring, and he was saved.

Time righted itself. Kyou jerked backwards and landed on the floor, crouched on all fours like the cat he was.

The inevitable rush of afterwards nausea came, and he forced it down. It got easier with practice. The wild fear of what he'd just done, where he'd almost gone, the slide of beads around the wrist that had pinned hers--all he had to do was build a home inside them. If he just kept telling himself this is where I live, they became comforting, in a way.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

And then, of course, there was her.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Uotani let her right hand drop from her mouth, where she'd bit it to keep herself from breaking the rules. Kyou saw a row of teeth imprinted on the ball of her thumb.

Ding.

"That'd be the oven," she said, her voice just a little shaky.

Kyou shot up out of his trance. Dammit, the cake! How long had the timer been going off? If the stupid thing got burnt he was not taking the blame. This was all that stupid Yankee's idea to begin with.

Everything snapped back to normal. He reached over to turn off the oven timer, muttering curses, and guided the forgotten cake halves out of the oven using a towel for an oven mitt. They had that look baked goods get when you haven't actually ruined them, but they want you to know it was a close call.

"Saved in the nick of time," he muttered, averting his eyes while she buttoned up her shirt.

"Well!" she said. "Guess we'd better start whipping the cream, then!"

"I'll whip the cream. I don't trust you."

"What's that?" her eyes narrowed into slits and she slipped into the about-to-have-an-argument posture. "Is that a challenge, Kyonkichi?"

"That is not my name, you damn Yankee freak!"

"Oh? You wanna start something? Move over, boy, I'll--"

Kyou, who was in fact on the verge of starting something, caught himself and sighed. "Why don't you shut up and slice the strawberries? Then we can get this done, already."

The tension dropped out of Uotani's shoulders and she snickered. "Sounds okay to me. Then I won't be trapped in this kitchen with a certain cranky pussycat anymore."

He'd gotten so used to her teasing by now that his heart almost didn't freeze. They finished the icing and strawberries in what was--for them--companionable silence. Other people would have called it something more like "intermittent bickering," but they weren't other people, and it worked just fine.

"That should be my new nickname for you," mused Uotani as he was smoothing the last swirl of whipped cream on the top layer.

"How many nicknames do you have to give me before you're satisfied!"

She ignored him. "What's that English word. . .'kitty,' right? 'Kyon-kitty'. . .no, that sounds too much like 'Kyonkichi,' it ruins the effect. . ."

Kyou breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Would you stop it with that cat stuff already? Just what about me is so cat-like?"

"You were licking me, Kyon-Kyon."

"Yeah, well--" he trailed off abruptly, flushing crimson. Maybe if he just pretended he was really busy putting the strawberry pieces on. Yeah. Three strawberry pieces left. Two more. One more.

"Your cake is done," he said.

"It's okay, you know," Uotani said at the same time.

She was smiling.

"Um. . .why. . .that is, uh. . ."

"Yeah?"

I am brave. "Why did you do that, anyway?"

"Oh, I dunno," she shrugged, grinning that damned stupid sunshiny grin of hers that had doomed him to this crazy relationship in the first place. "Random inspiration. Call it a Christmas present."

Kyou snorted. "You know, usually you ask the other person what kind of present they want first."

"Ha! That was my Christmas present to me, blockhead. You thought I was gonna get one for you? Stupid Kyon-Kyon."

"Why you--" he began, brandishing the spatula he'd forgotten he was holding. And then somehow, the sunshine seemed to spread from Uotani's grin and fill up the whole kitchen. Kyou's glare broke into a smile without his permission. "Stupid girl," he said.

And before he knew it, they were both laughing. The sound spread out like the sunshine, and for a little while the world outside wasn't so scary.