So. I was rewatching Season I of the Gokusen Jdrama, and this kind of developed. Though the first part is pretty much just what happened in the middle of Episode 7. Shin's POV.

-

Call My Name

"I'm sorry."

You stare blandly at the steaming black, charred mess in the bowl, mildly horrified. You blink once, twice. You look up at a sheepish Yankumi, who refuses to look you in the eye, head bowed obstinately.

The apartment is tranquil, save for the lone wailing of a siren a distance away. The dimly lit room might have provided a somewhat romantic atmosphere, if not for the fact that the scent of burnt food is permeating your flat, and all chances of a home-cooked meal, for once, are brutally slaughtered. Well, edible home-cooked meal, anyway.

You interrupt the unusual quiet, and, blunt as you always are with her, you ask, voice monotonous and clearly unimpressed, "What is this?"

For once, the usually dense quasi-woman senses the quiet disbelief in your voice. It is true; it is indeed unbelievable that fresh vegetables and half a kilo of meat can be so quickly rendered to this pathetic state.

She hurries to explain, "Macaroni au gratin charboiled…" she trails off, perceiving the futility in her attempt to impress you with her 'culinary training'.

You know not why you raise your voice; it might be borne of familiarity, making it easy to express your emotions in front of her. You object her dish title violently, "It's not charboiled, it's charred!"

Wisely, she keeps her mouth shut, and retrieves instant noodles from the grocery bag next to her. Your lips quirk in an involuntary smile. It seems that she, too, cannot detract from the reality of her culinary inabilities.

-

She explores your apartment while you prepare the instant food in the tiny kitchenette. As you tear the plastic wrapping with a loud crackle, she speaks.

"I spoke with your mother." Your hands freeze momentarily, before you reply, perhaps a little too sharply, "My family is irrelevant."

You abandon the noodles, and sit at the glass coffee table. "Don't meddle with things that don't concern you." You busy yourself with rummaging through the bag of instant food she bought, refusing to look at her, your tone indicating clearly the taboo topic.

Yankumi was never very good at picking up hints.

As she rambles on about how you ought to make up with your father and return home, you mumble reluctantly, still undecided if it is a good idea to let Yankumi, renown for her extreme nosiness, know. "I have no intention of returning home."

The awkward silence hangs heavy for a few long moments. You bite your lip, contemplating. Then you take the irreversible dive.

You walk around the small table, and sit in front of her. You close your eyes briefly, and smash your mouth into those luscious lips of hers.

You estimate it will take about three seconds for her to break your nose.

-

The blow never comes.

It was supposed to be an attempt to shut her up; you expected her to push you away and be too busy scolding you to talk about your family. When will you learn, that things never happen the way they are supposed to when Yankumi is around?

She is motionless, and this is when you expect her to throw you over her shoulder. When she doesn't move, you begin to suspect that maybe she has gone into shock. You pull away, wanting to check.

You only catch a glimpse of flushed cheeks, before an unreasonably strong hand is at the back of your head, prompting you forward.

Your lips and teeth crash uncomfortably with hers. Somewhere, deep deep inside, a tiny part of your subconscious winces at your lack of finesse. Yankumi really doesn't know her own strength. But it doesn't matter, because the majority of your brain is solely attuned to the myriad sensations raining upon you.

Her arms push futilely at your broad shoulders, even as they pull you forward, and you see the physical manifestation of her inner conflict. You know that she wants this too; she is only putting up a token fight – otherwise, your mouth would have been long removed from your body. Your mouth moves helplessly against hers, and you feast greedily, barely stopping for breath.

A guttural groan fills the dark flat, and you realize, with sudden shock, that it came from you. The wet, slick sounds of your conjoined mouths are the only accompaniment to your harsh breathing and animalistic soundtrack.

Seconds drag into minutes, but you pay the ticking of the clock no heed, for you are too busy licking, sucking, nipping with a fervor you never knew you possessed.

And now, all you are cognizant of is the rough tip of her tongue probing against yours. A bolt of electricity jolts through you, and you can't get enough of that addictive sweetness.

You allow her a moment of dominance, before you hungrily devour her. Your tongue pushes past hers, breaching the entrance of her lips, before she is aware of your oral invasion. When realization strikes home, it is too late, for even as her tongue begins to battle yours, you stroke her soft palate, and she literally melts in your arms. She tastes of green tea and takoyaki.

An almost inaudible whisper of "Sawada" makes its way past your joined mouths; you feel it, rather than hear it. It causes you to shiver involuntarily, yet something doesn't feel quite right.

You pull away from her reluctantly, almost instantly regretting it, as you take in her swollen lips, her tantalizingly mussed hair, the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Despite your body's protests, you grip her shoulder and hold her at an arm's length, then proceed to shake your head, in an attempt to clear the fog hazing it up. Somehow, that method works, and you pinpoint the problem.

"Shin."

"Huh?" She makes a small noise of confusion, eyes still glazed over, dead to the world of logic.

You shake her, perhaps slightly more roughly than you would another woman – then again, she isn't just any woman – and hiss harshly, body now desperately aching. "Call me 'Shin'."

She sighs, rather than calls, "Shin."

And your heart swells so much it nearly bursts out of your chest, and you feel a rare smile curving your lips.

This, this is where home is, you think, even as you proceed to ravage her lips and ravish her body.

Home is with Yankumi.

-

Um. My first Gokusen fic ever. This was originally meant to be a oneshot, but if enough people want a part two, I might get to work on it. R&R! :D