AN: First JR fic! This takes place during Misaki's final year of uni, probably around the time of the most recent Romantica chapter (act 29).

Disclaimer: Junjou Romantica belongs to Nakamura Shungiku, et al. I make no profit from writing fanfiction.

Misaki dropped a carton of eggs that morning. On the way to school, he got on the wrong train and missed his first class. The Devil had given a pop quiz, too, so thanks to that, he was another few negative points closer to a failing grade and an extra year at M University.

In a way, he supposed, he should have known the day would only get worse.

Aikawa opened the door as he was juggling with his keys and ushered him in. She looked excited, her hair windswept like she'd spent all day running up and down the stairs, but the usual stress of keeping Usagi-san to his deadline was completely absent from her demeanor.

Isaka broke off in the middle of an intense conversation with Usagi-san and a man Misaki didn't know to wave at him from the couch. Misaki's heart dropped into his stomach.

"What's going on?"

"It's so exciting!" Aikawa squealed, clasping her hands over her heart. "Misaki-kun, have you ever heard of Fame?"

Heard of it? The real question was who hadn't. Fame was a reality television show that followed celebrities around during major events; it usually featured popular idols on set, but a recent episode had surprisingly branched out to an artist preparing to do a portrait of the imperial family. He'd thought it funny at the time, a quaint way to spend an hour of the day, but suddenly, looking over at the dark cloud hanging over Usagi-san's head, an ominous feeling swept over him like a chill.

"You can't be serious." Misaki was sure his eyes were bugging out of his head.

"Yes!" Aikawa gave him the thumbs-up. "They want to feature Usami-sensei as he finishes his most recent manuscript!"

Oh, hell, Misaki thought despondently. Aloud, "I'm going to make some tea," was what he heard himself say.

It was difficult to imagine. Misaki felt himself go into automatic, putting the water on the burner, readying the tea leaves, but even as he went through the motions of normalcy, an icky sensation blossomed in his gut. A television program in Usagi-san's house? Surely, Aikawa knew better! She knew exactly what the esteemed 'great lord' went through prior to the completion of each manuscript, the sleepless nights, the ashtrays left overflowing in every room of the house – not to mention, Misaki's own, much more personal, torment. Did she really want them to air their dirty laundry on the most popular television program of the year?

Standing behind the loveseat where Usagi-san sat, Aikawa's hands were clasped to her chest, an overwhelmingly sparkling aura hanging around her.

Yes, Misaki realized. Yes, she quite did.

He must have spaced out for a moment, then, because Usagi-san met his eyes and then passed a questioning glance to the water boiling away on the stovetop. The third man, the one seated next to Isaka who remained unfamiliar to Misaki no matter how hard he tried to figure out his identity, took to staring at Misaki with something akin to suspicion.

"Sorry," Misaki squeaked out, fumbling with the glasses and the tea leaves, panic bubbling. This was going to be awful. There would be cameras and lights and people neither of them knew poking their noses into Usagi-san's business and passing judgment on Misaki. And, with Misaki's luck, they'd catch them in any number of compromising positions.

It struck him, then, the thought permeating through the fog of numb unease, that he and Usagi-san were very likely going to be outed to the whole of Japan on a television program. Everyone in his university would see it, of course. Nii-chan and Manami would, too. Misaki knew for a fact that his sister-in-law was an avid watcher of the program. He'd even discussed it with her once during dinner. Nii-chan hadn't been terribly interested in it, but even he'd said that their entire family would watch it together when their schedules all allowed.

Misaki put the drinks on a tray and carried them out to the sitting area, serving the guests and Usagi-san, nodding blankly at their offered thanks. He should make an excuse. He should get out of the house for a bit, maybe go down to the bookstore. When he came back, he was certain Usagi-san would have properly refused the offer, and then they could resume their lives as usual.

"So this is Takahashi-kun?" The third man spoke up, the sound of his voice causing Misaki to start.

"Ah, yes," Misaki bowed his head. "It's nice to meet you…?"

"Iwate Ryunosuke," the man introduce himself. The look on Iwate's face was strange, the twist of his lips somewhere between amused and annoyed. "Isaka-san, perhaps now would be a good time to discuss the contract you proposed?"

Business talk. Misaki figured that was his cue to leave. "Usagi-san, I'm going to the store, so—"

"Nonsense, Takahashi-kun." Iwate patted the empty space on the couch next to him. "Please, have a seat. You'll need to be here for this."

The ball of unease which had been previously resting in his stomach, a faint presence, abruptly flopped. Misaki sat down and looked at Usagi-san, who would not return his gaze. When he looked up at Aikawa, he realized that the sparkle had all but disappeared. For the first time since he'd walked in, she looked uncomfortable.

After a heavy silence, Isaka began with, "Now, chibi-tan, I'm sure you understand how important the reputation of an author is to his sales," and Misaki knew just where the conversation was going to go.

Usagi-san was awfully quiet. He hadn't said anything, not even the usual welcome home. No joking, no teasing. He was just sitting there, staring at something on the wall beyond Misaki's shoulder, his eyebrows dipping down.

"I understand that," Misaki assured. He took one last look at Usagi-san before adding, "But what is it you want me to do?"

"See?" Isaka looked triumphant. He slung an arm over Usagi-san's shoulders, laughing. "I told you he'd understand."

"We're prepared to supply you with alternate accommodations," Iwate broke in smoothly. "You attend M University? There's a rather nice hotel within walking distance that I'm sure you'd—"

"That's really not necessary!" Misaki waved his hands. "I can stay with my brother."

Iwate looked confused. Misaki had the distinct impression that the man had expected him to fight the decision, and really, Misaki wasn't stupid. He didn't want to be on television, especially not under the circumstances Fame proposed.

Really, he was fine with this. Completely fine. What did he care if he had to go stay somewhere else for a few weeks? It might be nice having some time to himself, not having to worry about that idiot jumping him all hours of the day and night.

But Usagi-san still wasn't looking at him.

Isaka and Iwate launched into a conversation about something or other, but Misaki couldn't follow along. He just nodded and tried to look like he wasn't desperate to get Usagi-san's attention.

If I'm so fine with this, why does my heart feel like this?

What was he expecting? For Usagi-san to jump to his defense, to demand that Misaki stay? Rather stunned at his own audacity, Misaki realize that yes, he had been expecting just that.

"If that's all you needed me for, I'm going to go now." He really had to get out of there. "I'll go to the store."

No one paid him any mind – why won't you look at me? – so Misaki stood up, grabbed the bag he'd dropped in the entryway, and walked out.

Twenty minutes later found Misaki wandering aimlessly around the city. At some point, he'd taken his cell phone out, had left it in hand. Just in case, he told himself. Usagi-san might want to contact him, never mind that Misaki would have to go home eventually.

He stopped at the crosswalk, leaning against the pole. Home, huh? If it was home, why was he so ready to leave? No, no, not ready. Willing. He hadn't put up a fight at all. But neither had Usagi-san, and that, Misaki supposed, had been more painful than he'd expected.

Usagi-san's career was important. More important, if Misaki was honest, than Misaki was. Writing was what kept Usagi-san sane. It was what gave him the life he led, the ability to be free from his family. Misaki, on the other hand, was the piece of Usagi-san's life that could easily ruin the rest of it. Isaka had told him before. Usagi-san's father had echoed the sentiment, and in his own way, Haruhiko had as well. Misaki would only get in the way, would only cause trouble.

"I shouldn't get so worked up," he said aloud. "This isn't a big deal. It's what we've been doing all along."

They'd been a secret, though not necessarily a well-kept one, since the beginning. Misaki liked it that way. This stupid show would just cause them both problems if Misaki hung around, so it was the sensible thing to do, vacating for the duration of the filming. Of course, Usagi-san realized this as well.

The problem here wasn't with Usagi-san, after all. It was with Misaki, with his way of thinking. Hadn't his first thought been how hard it would make his own life? That was terribly selfish, was the exact sort of behavior that made people believe he would cause Usagi-san trouble in the first place.

And that was the last thing he wanted to do.

His resolve strengthened, Misaki turned around. He had to go shopping. Maybe pick up something for dinner, as the desire to cook had all but fled him. He would move through the motions just as well as he ever did, and then he would go home. Usagi-san, surely, would be waiting for him.

Feeling more than a little foolish, Misaki pressed his ear to the door before going inside. He couldn't hear anything, so hopefully the little group was gone. He had no desire to see Isaka or Iwate any time soon.

"Usagi-san," Misaki called, setting the grocery bags on the floor so he could take off his coat. "I'm home! I picked up some food for dinner."

"Welcome back." Usagi-san was still sitting in the living area, then. His voice sounded dull.

"That's pretty interesting, that you're going to be on Fame!" Misaki stepped into the kitchen, hefting the bags along with him.

Usagi-san took a drag from his cigarette and fixed Misaki with a hard look. "Do you really think so?"

Misaki faltered. "Well, sure? I mean, it's a popular show. It's kind of a big deal, right?"

Another slow drag, followed by a smoky, "I suppose it is."

It felt like he'd just failed some kind of test. Misaki busied himself with putting the food away, grasping for that one thread of normalcy. "So how long is this going to take? I need to call Nii-chan about it, I guess."

"Two weeks of filming," Usagi-san said. "Assuming I meet my deadline."

Misaki snorted. "I'll tell Nii-chan a month, then."

The food was mostly put away, dinner on the table, by the time Usagi-san spoke again. He was still smoking, the third cigarette since Misaki had walked in the door. Suzuki-san was tucked under his arm. He maintained a careful distance from Misaki, opting instead to watch him set the table. "Are you really all right with this?"

Misaki was very pleased how decisive he sounded when he answered: "Of course! It's your job, Usagi-san, so it's important. I'll just take the time to get some school work done. Um," here, he hesitated a bit. "I thought I might make a week's worth of dinners for you before I left. I'll put the instructions in writing, too. Not even you can mess up with written instructions!" Well, knowing Usagi-san, he probably could. The man would probably wind up burning down the apartment without Misaki there to supervise him.

At least it would make for interesting television.

"I'd rather have you with me, you know." Usagi-san's voice had gone quiet, but he might as well have been shouting.

The reaction was instant. The words were a balm for Misaki's heart, soothing the jagged crack that the thought of leaving, of being a burden, had left in it. "I know," he replied, a smile stealing quickly across his face.

Over dinner, Usagi-san told him about the details of the program, all the while running his bare foot along Misaki's ankle. His eyes were dark, the way they got whenever Usagi-san thought of touching him.

In the morning, Misaki would be making plans to leave. Perhaps, he thought, feeling shy just at the idea, he would indulge Usagi-san tonight, if only a bit. His face red, he nudged Usagi-san's foot with his own, peeking at the man through his bangs as he shoveled rice into his mouth.

"Ah, Usagi-san?" Misaki put down his chopsticks. He felt oddly driven, braver than usual. "I was just thinking," get the words out, his mind demanded, "maybe I'll leave the dishes for the morning."

Usagi-san looked bemused, but only for a moment. Then, something clicked in his mind, and a slow, predatory smile followed the darkening of his eyes. "Misaki," he was nearly purring. "I had no idea you could be so forward! And here, I'd been wondering if you would even miss me…"

"Don't get the wrong idea!" Misaki jumped up, flustered by his own behavior, and went right to the kitchen. What the hell was he thinking? "I—I was just—"

"Misaki," Usagi-san followed after him, just a step behind. "I love you." His arms went around Misaki's waist, his lips tickling the side of Misaki's neck with feather light touches.

Well, Misaki supposed, his head falling back onto Usagi-san's shoulder of its own accord, that was that, then. He'd never been very good at fighting the tide.

I'll worry in the morning, he decided, and covered Usagi-san's wandering hand with one of his own, certain, if only for the moment, that everything was going to be all right.