Last one! Here we go.

Running Water

This was ridiculous. Someone couldn't just realize that they were in love with someone else. It didn't work like that. There were steps, processes, events that people had to experience first. Tohru scraped her spoon around the yogurt carton listlessly. She'd been well educated in fairy tales and soap operas by her mother like any girl should be. This was no way to fall in love with a person. Absolutely unorthodox. She wouldn't stand for it. She stuck the spoon in her mouth, brown eyes unfocused on the light switch that didn't work.

Now that she thought about it, there were events. There were events that might have been steps, maybe even processes if you wanted to look at it like that. The fact that she could remember the tiniest of details from the White Day Yuki-kun gave her the ribbon to the day he and she went to Ayame's boutique was proof enough. She finished the yogurt and went to wash the carton out, drifting from the dining area to the kitchen like a boat being swayed by current. So why had it taken her so long? Maybe it was the way he looked at her, his gray eyes more complex than any dysfunctional family, perhaps even his.

No, that wasn't it. The way he spoke to her, that slight hesitation before her name that suggested that he intended to say it differently; an intimate waver to the suffix as though it had been added as an afterthought? Maybe, maybe all this time she'd been waiting for him to just not think anymore so that there would be no afterthought. She dropped the rinsed carton into the proper recyclable can, turning to climb the stairs. It was nearly time to get Kyo-kun and Shigure-san up. He certainly hadn't been thinking this morning. Nobody can think and forget their pants.

Suddenly it struck her. Like Tohru, Yuki was most like himself in the morning. Their morning rituals – the tea, the shower, the alarm clocks, the lights – were ways of thinking more, preparing to think all day. When someone wasn't thinking, they acted automatically, acted how they would if they weren't scared or worried. Which meant, if it wasn't too late…

Tohru quickened her pace and skidded to a halt outside of Yuki's closed door. She didn't think he'd heard an alarm clock yet. Not waiting to knock, she opened the door slowly, asking, "Yuki-kun?"

He was flopped face-down on his bed, pillow and comforter piled on top of his head. He said something from beneath the bedding, something that sounded like, "Am I wearing pants?"

"I think you are."

Yuki sat up, pulling the bedding away from his face to look apologetically at his housemate. But before he could begin to thoroughly explain himself like any true human being should when exposing their friend to their scantily clad body, Tohru said quietly, "What do you think about love?"

"Love?"

He ran a hand through his hair, blinking in surprise as the plant finally came free in his palm. He continued, "I think love is love. Is there…"

The silver-haired boy trailed off, seeing Tohru's face. She was bright pink, eyes flitting around to focus on anything except him. He wasn't giving the right answer. He picked up, "I think love is unexpected, inexplicable, and confounding."

"So you wouldn't be all that surprised if it just… happened to you?"

"No, I guess not."

Tohru bit her lip. Here was the opportunity right in front of her, and she still wasn't so sure. But this was a day without morning showers. It called for spontaneous behavior. She added, eyes finally settling on Yuki, "So it wouldn't surprise you if I… I mean. If I loved…"

Okay, so she couldn't finish the sentence. Instead, she motioned to Yuki pathetically.

What had been the girl who… That girl he… Whatever. That had suddenly become something much less whatever. Yuki leaned forward, hand wiping the plant onto his bed as it slid to touch Tohru's. He said, "A little bit. Would it surprise you if I… To you…"

He made a frustrated noise and shrugged. There was no saying it. The horrible feeling of Dork struck again. He looked down at the goo on his bed. Maybe it wasn't a plant. Maybe it was his ability to form sentences down there.

Tohru's face was so red that Yuki almost expected her to whistle and steam to come from her ears. He'd had little exposure to television as a child, but in the rare cases when he'd be plonked down to watch an educational program about something or other, he'd make his move. The ceaseless arguing of his parents in the other room like New York City traffic, he'd quietly switch channels. Ah, bliss. Tom and Jerry: a show where the rat (mouse, but close enough) always won. Now, Tohru's hot face seeming to fall into his, he tried to remember if the steam meant anger or love.

Then, because all thought processes are interrupted, not concluded, Yuki found himself thinking about something else entirely.

Shaking, his hand lifted to touch her cheek to make sure it was really there, really her. Really Honda Tohru kissing him. It didn't really occur to him how the world melted away, how the air was a fragrant delicacy upon which he feasted. He was more concerned with kissing the girl he'd loved ever since she smiled at him with her eyes and said, "It's all right, Sohma-kun. You're all right."

So maybe none of that happened because he wasn't looking for it. But Tohru was. She broke the kiss and let the delicious pent-up breath that every kiss needs go. Then she gulped that breath back as Yuki did the same thing barely an inch away. He let his fall forward, touching their foreheads together and making his silver eyes meet hers. It was obvious from his gaze that he didn't have a clue what he was doing. Then again, neither did Tohru. She whispered, hand rising to rest on his on her cheek, "I guess we keep surprising each other until one of us expects it."

Yuki sighed, turning his hand and clasping hers, letting it drop to the bed. He seemed to feel the weight of her hand laced with his, a smile tinting his lips. He replied, "I don't think I'll ever expect something from you. Well, maybe one thing."

Her eyes were two brilliant, blooming questions in front of his; two gleaming glimpses into a future lit with surprises and electricity and maybe a hot shower or two in the morning.

"What?"

He tilted his face, eyes still locked on hers.

"Unexpected, inexplicable, confounding love."

It was fun while it lasted. I just realized that I never put in a disclaimer. I'll do it now: Not a single character here belongs to me, or any of the plots and settings. They all belong to the twisted genius that is Takaya Natsuki, creator of Fruits Basket.

Do review. It makes me do my nerdy happy dance.