AN: I'm not very good at romance ... or comedy ... or writing. Forgive me. I made this fic as a sort of response towards some people's interpretation of Naoto's character. Also, an eccentric Souji is the best Souji. Advice on writing better is much appreciated. Enjoy.

"Do I have to pour maple syrup on you?"

"I have a gun," the young detective muttered, her head buried within her arms.

"And I have maple syrup. So I think that I'd have the upper hand here." True. She could shoot him now, but then she'd be in for some severely lacking morning pancakes. Dammit.

Besides, Naoto Shirogane was generally all too tired at the moment to do anything remotely animated aside from breathing. Perhaps being kept awake beyond all reasonable hours had something to do with it. If someone had told her a year or so ago that she'd eventually align herself with a group of friends that liked kings game, tackling each other, and had such a strong resistance against sleep, she would have pistol-whipped them right then and there. If they told her that she'd also be dating a man like Souji Seta, she'd most likely beat them into unconsciousness. If they told her said man would also be cooking her breakfast in bunny slippers and a hand-me-down Junes apron, she'd pay for the person's medical bill, take a moment to apologize, and then promptly go back to pistol-whipping them. Unfortunately, since no one forewarned her of any this, here she was, head against dining table, currently dieing, and still searching for salvation.

"I think you're going to need this." A mug a black coffee had been set before her, as well as a kiss to the forehead.

Never mind about that last thing then.

Despite the well needed caffeine punch, she had a feeling that she'd need about 10 more of these before fully recovering. She tried to keep her head back up while rubbing the waking-up grime out of her eyes. She blamed the morning for being much too bright and much too sunny for what she needed now, with the outside light pouring into the entire kitchen area. While the warm pancake aromas were a quite comforting addition towards the atmosphere, now was not a good time for trying to re-acquaint herself with reality.

She took the moment to lay out the day for a bit, since she expected herself to do something mildly more productive than pass out today. And looking at how the morning itself has started already, she already got the impression that she was going to have to think a bit harder to come out of it un-scathed. First, eat; preferably food, but anything else at the moment would well do as well. Afterwards, crawl into somewhat decent clothes. While she so very much appreciated the comfort of the pajama slacks and Featherman R shirt combo that wasn't her's, it was for the best that she didn't stroll around Inaba in it. The hardest part would most likely be trying to come out of the Dojima household without rousing any sort of suspicion. The neighboring house wives looked normal enough, but she's been around this town long enough to realize their all mingling piranhas in disguise, waiting for anything remotely interesting before deciding to write the word "juicy" all over it with a permanent maker and attack it with all their teeth. Walk the neighborhood casually, specifically with jacket collar up and cap pulled down. Finally, walk over to Junes and arrest Yosuke Hanumura for violations against common human decency and lacking any sense of tact whatsoever.

"Come on now, you got to have a type. Of all the women that swoon over you on a daily basis, you've got to have a type."

"Maybe he's asexual."

"Maybe he's sexual in a way that doesn't involve women."

Chie laughed before patting Yosuke on the back a few times. "Please. If that were the case, I'd think Yosuke would be the first to notice." While his whole body was shoving Chie away, his face pretended he didn't hear any of it. "Seriously though, it's pretty important."

Souji simply shrugged, before folding his hands atop the table. "Well, I'd like to inform you that my taste lies in women for starters. And I suppose you could say that I have a type."

Suddenly Teddie piqued in with enthusiasm. "Ooh, ooh, let me guess; perfect smile, laughs at all your puns, sweeter than pie and curves in all the right places?

"Boobs?" Suggested a non-visible Kanji that everyone thought had passed out already.

"Yeah and a lot of those!"

Souji sat there expressionless for a moment, before blinking a few times. "Not … necessarily Teddie."

"Oh, I get it," Yosuke said, closing his eyes and holding his hand up. "Like em' tough and hardy, ready to get down and dirty, bringing home the bacon, while still being considerate and sensitive enough to handle your fragile flower soul?" He added a bit of dramatic flourish to the last bit before chuckling. "Might as well date a dude. Or Naoto."

Her eyes shot up at the mention. Her back sprang back up from the side of the sofa. In most cases, she preferred being invisible in the midst of the conversation, but this was pushing the envelope just a bit. "Excuse me?"

It took a second for Yosuke to realize that he had just said something tremendously stupid to the one person in the room that carried a loaded gun. He stuttered with his words, waving his wands frantically in front of him. "Not that it's such a bad thing! I-I'm sure a lot of people would be into that! I mean, especially what with you and your gentlemanly charms, ha."

Naoto was still not amused.

"Oh, not that I'm implying that you're a guy or anything- unless that's what you'd prefer." Yosuke scratched the back of his head, still frantically searching for the fitting words that never came. Being stared down by an irritated detective was not helping at the least. "I mean, I know a lot of girls that still have a crush you. A lot of girls! I guess some guys would also-" It didn't take long for Yosuke to receive a flying back-blow to the head and shut up, thankfully by Chie. Souji simply smiled and shook his head.

"Assurance of your heterosexuality is good enough for now."

"So, anyone else have any interesting input for the night?"

"I FOUND THE STICKS GUYS!" A particularly oblivious and flustered Rise had popped out from the table, as if she were hopping out a horror movie. And like any reaction to a horror movie scare, most of them had jumped back, absolutely terrified of the idol's sudden appearance. Rise didn't seem to notice. A stray stick fell out of her hands. "LET THE GAMES CONTINUE!"

Naoto's face had fallen into her palm. Oh dear god.

"So I'm assuming that you had fun last night?" The little scene playing out in here head was suddenly interrupted. Souji was leaning against the counter-top, mixing a bowl of batter.

Her head had snapped back up, her mind reeling its way back into the present moment. She leaned back on the table, half considering just pouring the entire mug of coffee on her face and have it absorb all the caffeine by itself. Her hand slumped against her cheek. "I wouldn't consider having Rise drag me by the ankles through the hallway as my definition of "fun"."

"I'm sorry, let me rephrase that," he cleared his throat up. "So how was the night of terror, trapped in a house full of complete psychopaths?"

She lifted her mug up in the air, using the same hand to strike a thumb up. "Exhilarating." He nodded in approval.

Strangely enough, Souji was nothing compared to the mess she was. He was far from it. He seemed alive and awake, fully eager to dive into the day. Hair well-groomed, clothed and bathed, with everything around him ready and organized. The wonders of being a morning person she supposed, a wonder she herself would never understand. He turned back around, readjusting the heating level on the stove. "I'm honestly sorry you had to go through that. I didn't know that we were going to have a little extra accompaniment to our evening."

"I wasn't too disappointed. I was actually hoping that this time, everyone would have learnt their lesson and would try to remain somewhat level-headed." She took another long swig of coffee, hoping that she could finally wash out all the glitter from her mouth. She let the mug back down with a sigh. "I severely miscalculated."

"Could've shot the ceiling I suppose. Would've scared them a bit off."

She tsked. "Aren't you a saint."

He shook his head, carefully pouring a measured amount of batter into the pan. "Hardly. I was just this close to grabbing the katana from under futon and waving it around like a madman until everyone left." He paused for moment, watching as the batter began to solidify. "They've come across worse."

She balled her hand up into a fist, resting her chin atop of it. "I sometimes wonder how you've managed create such a well structured façade, tricking everyone into thinking that you're a stable and well-balanced person."

"I wonder that sometimes too." He shrugged. "But then I drop it and focus my mental energy on more important things. Like food." When it came down to mundane activities for Souji Seta, they were taken seriously, to an almost dangerous extent. And since pancakes seemed to be the main focus of the day, it was edging how much focus he put into something as simple as that. It was also a time where she didn't know whether she'd admire him for his determination or wanted to slowly scoot away in her seat. Souji was well aware of this. "It actually makes me doubt you're own sanity if I my say so myself, for why you'd date such a lunatic."

"Because of our common sensibilities, mutual interests, and a strong understanding between each other?" she said, before taking another sip of her coffee.

He nodded in approval, before flatly stating, "Or maybe you just want my butt."

Bits of coffee flew out of her mouth, before getting into a small coughing fit. Nevermind about the coffee then. "That's certainly another way to put it," she said with an embarrassed chuckle, while humbly cleaning up the small mess with a napkin. Perhaps she forgot to list that he was a horrible man with a horrible sense of humor and a horrible way of making her feel vulnerable, yet comfortable at the same time. Horrible, horrible, horrible.

After taking a moment to compose her dignity, she went back to thinking. She could hear the slight chirping coming from the open window, calmly greeting the morning. It put it all somewhat into perspective how empty the Dojima household felt, aside from the two of them. It was hard to ignore the fact that she was she still here, while everyone else had already left. It gave her the feeling that she was over-staying her welcome, even if it was quite the contrary. Paired with the bed and breakfast routine, it felt like unnecessary special treatment. Still, perhaps it was simply a manner of hospitable treatment towards an overnight guest.

"I'd suspect you need more coffee, after to blowing it halfway across the table. I made extra if you'd like."

She looked back down at here current cup, or at least what was left of it. Black, one cube of sugar, and 5 small marshmallows. Dammit, he was spoiling her. "You really don't have to do all this for me."

"I don't have to. But I want to," he said. "It's the least I can do as an apology for last night."

For certain reasons that she'd prefer to consciously not refer back to, her face suddenly felt a lot warmer than usual. "Your multiple methods of apology are intriguing to say the least. Following a more... physical apology with a sentimental sort the morning after. Quite the strategy."

He paused for a bit, his gazing turning more towards the floor. For certain reasons, that she'd prefer not refer back to, a smile began to grow on his face. He was bad at hiding it. "Nothing wrong with going up and beyond, wouldn't you agree?"

"Perhaps not. I'm not use to such royal treatment. Or, any treatment to be specific. I don't feel as though I necessarily deserve it."

"Perish the thought," he said making an exaggerated waving motion with his spatula. A small fleck flew off into the distance. "As your designated sexy breakfast making servant monkey, you can expect no less of me. Or yourself."

"Should I be aiming my infatuation more towards someone of lesser quality then?"

"Yosuke lives just a few blocks down if you're interested."

She groaned, letting her head fall back into her palms. If she wanted to come across a torrent of sex-related frustration, she'd simply walk into the police station, as opposed to one of her friends. "Just mentioning the name is inflicting a headache."

"Same goes for a lot of other people, but you tend to warm up around him after a while."

She was quiet for a bit, rubbing at her forehead as if she was trying to rub the memory out. She told herself, over and over, that it did not bother her. It shouldn't. She knew how this social dynamic worked; Yosuke would every so often say something un-intelligent, and then everyone would playfully toss it around like it was a ball at playground. It's not something to be taken seriously and if you confronted him about it, he would most likely say the same thing. It's just teasing, nothing to think too hard about. Unfortunately, Naoto prided herself for thinking about certain details more than most others. In this particular situation, it severely back-fired for her.

He paused for a second, noticing her sudden moment of contemplation. "I kept getting a feeling that you seemed bothered. Is this about what he said last night?"

She let out a sigh, knowing that sooner or later that this conversation was going to come up. "More or less how he said it."

Souji grimaced as the same memory flashed within his head. "If that's the case, I guess I haven't apologized enough for that part."

She shook her head, eyes peering back into her coffee. "It's not at all your fault. Might not even be Yosuke's fault."

Might as well date a man ... Or Naoto. There was supposedly nothing wrong with her, by what she's often told. If she were to be mistaken for a man, then let it be. That's what most of Inaba still thinks and its much easier leaving it that way. And if her friends occasionally forgot, then maybe she wouldn't have to endure any more feminine orientated activities which in more than several instances she's had to be much less clothed then what she usually preferred. Yet again, that was simply another case of wishful thinking. Her skin was too soft. Her eyes were too pretty. Her bust was too exceeding. To state it blatantly then, she was too feminine to fit into her profession, yet too masculine to have a normal relationship. Perhaps Yosuke was simply putting it all into perspective, in his unusual un-polished manner of tact and expression.

"I don't think he meant to offend. Things just slip out time to time," he said, defending his best friend.

"Of course not." She bit slightly at the bottom of her lip. "The implication that it slipped out in the first place however-"

"Gives the impression that it's what everyone is secretly thinking," he said, finishing her sentence. Both his hands were both placed upon the counter as he leaned above the pan. Though he hides it well, it was likely that Souji felt just as uncomfortable about the statement as she was. They've agreed it was better this way; keeping their relations closed. It was easier, especially around others. At least for most of the time, when intoxication isn't involved. "I guess maybe if we were a bit more open then-"

She shrugged. "It'd be a bit of stir, but no different nevertheless. This ... Correlation between the two of us wouldn't make all that much sense from a standard viewpoint."

"I like females. And you are female. Standard enough," he stated flatly, with his best use of logic and deduction.

"The question is if I'm the 'right' female."

"Am I the right male?"

"If you're looking for a more objective answer, I believe you're asking the wrong person." Ironically enough, she could, if she had to, strip him down to his psyche and gene quality in comparison to a widely contributed image of masculinity, but then her emotions would get the better of her and she might accidentally add something about how nice his hair looks or the novels they both enjoy. And that wouldn't be professional whatsoever. At least then it'd be accurate.

"Well then maybe I'm not. But you're not going ask to glam myself up and put on skirt because of it."

She held a finger up in protest while taking another short sip of coffee. "In my objective opinion, you wouldn't look that bad in makeup. Especially while in a skirt."

He nodded. "Now that you mention it, I would look pretty in a skirt. You should take these things into consideration," he said, at the same time making a grand pancake flip. After quite an impressive two-time go, the chocolate loaded pan pastry had hit the pan with a warming sizzle. "Like Yosuke said, I have a very fragile flower soul. And very self-conscious one at that."

She frowned with faux pity. "You poor thing."

"It's why behind my façade of blank expression, I make you chocolate pancakes and ask for excessive amounts of cuddling to reconcile my broken feelings and fear of loneliness." He shook his head, hanging it down shame as he closed his eyes. "I apologize for being such a clingy girlfriend."

Despite rolling eyes, she had to admit, that one was kind of funny. While she continued to wait about, mundanely awaiting a stack of supposedly legendary pancakes while Souji deadpanned his way into making her feel better, Naoto glimpsed at her finger-nails. There was nothing in particular that was noteworthy of them, aside from the reason that they were just there. Just these things used for nothing merely more than opening unwanted love letters and being jammed every so occasion. They admonished her fingers, with no particular color or gleam or unnecessary adornment. Needless to say, that was how Naoto liked it. Simple. Same could be said for her hair, where the most amount of effort she'd put into it was to shower and occasionally comb it. Give her a hairspray bottle and a straightener, and she'd be more likely to create an improvised weapon than to fashion her hair with it. In general, she could say that she hasn't bothered to put in anymore than the barest minimum of thought towards appearance whatsoever. There was nothing wrong that. There shouldn't be anything wrong with that.

Yet...

"I wouldn't want you to change. I've already told you," Souji stated out of nowhere, interrupting her mulling. "And I don't want you to doubt that. If anything, I'll be doing the bending over."

She folded her hands together. "I'd hardly be that cruel."

"But I simply live to serve." He said, doing a small bow, with the pan still in his hand. "The last thing you need to worry about is what other people think. And pancakes."

In all honesty, her only concern with the pancakes was how strongly the aroma that wafted from them was causing her to crave to quite an ungodly extent. Aside from that, perhaps other people weren't really the only thing to be considered within the issue. Her gaze turned towards the outer window from across the room, folding together her non-manicured hands. She felt right in her boxers, ties and long shirts. A detective that doubts themselves has no case. But it was one thing to be Shirogane, the detective, and Naoto, the confused adolescent girl who happened to be lacking any proper clothing at the moment. Her gaze was lost within the window-sill, as something escaped from underneath her breath. "I had supposed you'd prefer something more feminine."

"Hmm?" The silver head teen seemed to have noticed and turned a glance.

"Oh, nothing."

"No, I surely heard the words "prefer" and "feminine" right then and there," he promptly lifted the pan of the stove, quickly flipping the last pancake onto the towering stack. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Her head hung low, her cap slightly covering over her eyes. "I know that you would never ask me to change anything I'd feel uncomfortable with. But is there a chance that ... In the back of your head ..."

He stood there for a moment, with a somewhat confused expression on his face. Despite upholding the image of a being made of pure logic, Naoto's emotions were as strong to sense as nuclear signals. She knew that she didn't need to say much for Souji to understand. His brow furrowed, while reaching for a canister of powdered sugar. "No, I don't. I wouldn't care either ways. Why would I?"

She looked back down at her non-manicured fingers. "Common knowledge's dictates that for a relationship between a male into a female to work, there are certain gender roles that need to be fulfilled," she said, in a strained voice for once, as she struggled to remain objective. "I'm surprised you didn't get the impression that I have encroached upon your territory."

His hand paused, mid-motion of sprinkling powdered sugar. An extra gust had fallen out and clouded in front of him. "So you're saying I should feel threatened?"

Now that she thinks about, that last statement did seem a bit too predatory. She shook her head, readjusting herself. "T-That's not what I meant. I'm stating that from an outer perspective, the whole structure is odd. Two people who are together can't encompass the same traits, unless we actually were of the same gender."

He still hadn't particularly moved yet. His face was still as un-fazed as ever. "You're female. No one is telling otherwise. You can be as feminine or non-feminine as you want. But only if you want it.

Despite trying to further explain what she felt, her face had already fallen into her hands in frustration. Maybe she was just being ridiculous. After all, she was talking to Souji Seta, the man without such a care. He very much liked being in that apron, considering the many times he's worn it and the various food stains he had named after various classical composers. He liked caring for children and petting cats. He liked to cook, garden, read poetry, and occasionally stab shadows in the face. He never seemed to have a problem with what was expected of him when it came to masculinity, as he never worried about anyone suspecting him of being any less of a man than he already was. She respected that. The question was why did she, of all people, have a problem with the same issue?

Her gazed turned back towards the window, with a sort of grimace. The sun was out, the birds were singing, and someone somewhere was plotting murder or telling riddles to next person nearby within this lopsided town. Blame Inaba, she supposed. Only here could she be so open without it involving any sharp weaponry. (Even when said weaponry was widely available to questionably cheeky teenagers)

"I suppose it all comes down to respect. To be respected within my line of work, you have to be male, adult, have a brightly filled portfolio and perhaps a few scars on your back." At this point, she wasn't sure whether if she was still talking to Souji directly or if she was speaking more to herself. "But right here, right now … I don't know what it is. I don't know if there's a checklist, or set of preliminary limits, or length of mini-skirt that I have to wear or anything of that sort. Kept in that frame of mind, I can't help but feel that perhaps I'm just doing something wrong and-"

Her voice had trailed off once she noticed the stack of pancakes that had suddenly appeared before her, as if it appeared by magic, dotted with pieces of chocolate and freckled with bits of complimentary powered sugar. She blinked. Her eyes than drew towards Souji, who was much closer to her than the last time she bothered to pay attention, and was leaning a hand on the table. As if a strong force of magnetism were at the works, his eyes had quickly held her's in a deadlock, with no possible escape.

"I love you."

Naoto blinked again. "Um … thank you?"

"And do you love me?" he asked, his expression still dead straight.

"I don't exactly see how that's relevant to-" Before she could continue, he had already sat down on the other chair, holding his index finger up. The young detective wasn't exactly sure what was going on, or if her insecure ranting was even taken to note, but now he seemed to be preparing to demonstrate something. Out of nowhere, he began to fondle the stack of newly prepared pancakes that she supposed were meant for eating, but apparently not, to the disappointment of her stomach. He filed through them like a desk drawer, searching for the right one. After picking a certain pancake, he slipped it out of the stack, holding it out like a disk. Taking the single pancake in both hands, he held it before his face as though it were a mask.

"Do you still love me?" He said in the same exact tone he used last time.

The word "baffling" at this point didn't seem like an adequate enough description "There's a pancake on your face."

"Yes."

She stared at the pan food staring right back at her. "Why is there a pancake on your face?"

He still held it up with complete seriousness. "That's because the pancake has no gender."

"That's because it's food, Souji."

The silver-haired man seemed to ignore her statement, going along with his hare-brained analogy. "The pancake is us. It is a complicated and compact mixture of attitudes, outlooks, and traits. It isn't just the flour, made to give structure and support, or the buttermilk, made to add sweetness or fluffiness. It's a combination of these roles and attributes coming together to make this pancake." He lowered the pancake. "Male and female is a label sticker that society placed on the boxes to make shopping for ingredients easier. In actuality, while the two are important to some extent, it's the mixture that matters most of all. The pancake is judged by the whole, and not by the small bits that people are preoccupied. People that are too obsessed with the singular traits lose sight of the big picture."

He gestured towards the stack. "And if two pancakes were really made each other, they'll fit together on the stack. The other pancake doesn't care whether or not the other pancake doesn't like make-up or skirts, or how it likes boyish things, or how feminine it is. It just cares about the pancake for what it is." He placed the pancake back on top of the stack, his voice and expression full of sentiment. "And said pancake doesn't need anyone else to tell him whether it's right or not when he knows." His slowly traced back into her's, using his infamous eye-deadlock. She simply sat there, completely estranged by this presentation that greatly seemed like an over the top confession. What did pancakes have to do with anything again?

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was going to say next. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is ... Naoto Shirogane, you are my other pancake."

There was a silence. Not just any sort of silence, but a somewhat surreal brand of silence that she wasn't sue to. Long, drawn out, and dotted with the occasional chirp that she supposes was meant to bring dramatic tension. Naoto was still stunned as hell, her eyes coming in contact with Souji's overly sentimental ones, and her mouth was slightly opened ajar. The situation seemed to have been kept in an odd stasis for a few seconds. Something from inside of her was slowly building up all the while, but she was quite unsure of what exactly it was. It was a strong feeling, yet it was unfamiliar and quite abrupt, as it took place in her stomach and eventually reached her face. Out of nowhere, she felt her expression completely crack, as what came out was what only she could only describe as a chortle. Naoto Shirogane does not chortle. Naoto Shirogane also does not let out streams of laughter so excessively long and loud to the point where it hurt her sides. Yet, at the moment, that was exactly what she did.

"So, I'm assuming that you didn't take my analogy very seriously?" He said in his usually flat tone, while still in middle of her spontaneous giggle fit. It was a bit hard responding back when her head was buried in her arms while in tears, with the other hand sporadically slamming across the table surface.

After giving it a few seconds to run its course, she stopped for a little bit, attempting to compose herself as quickly possible, despite having that leftover giddy feeling. At the very least, she could say that the whole issue had been wiped completely out of her mind. It was quite embarrassing though, laughing hard enough to challenge even Yukiko's legendary fits. Yet, it was still strangely relieving. She dried out her eye for a bit with a spare napkin. "I'm sorry. May I please have my pancakes back?"

He pushed them back towards her. "You know, the whole thing sounded a lot more romantic in my head." He smiled, finally breaking the slate that had been plastered on his face. "At least you're not brooding anymore."

"I do not brood." She said while picking up the example pancake. "I just become very contemplative whenever I have to wait for breakfast."

Strangely enough, she didn't bother with the fork and picked it up the same way he did. She took a slow and sure breath and stared back. "So, as it seems. I am the pancake."

He nodded sagely. "You are the pancake."

By god, the whole scene felt just like it was copy and pasted from one of Chie's bad karate movie if it were strangely food oriented and acted out by someone who obviously had too much fun at drama club. It was bad enough that she couldn't deny there was a bit of wisdom to such an over-the-top analogy. It definitely wasn't the first revelation she was expecting to come across today, but it was a surprisingly refreshing one to say the least. Her perfectly non-manicured fingers held onto the pancake in front of her. The whole thing was still quite ridiculous though, now that she thought about. Male, female, Souji, Naoto. That's all there was to it and that's all that mattered. But nevertheless, it was summer, she was in the Dojima household, and perhaps for once, it was okay not to think too hard about such things.

"I suppose the pancake does look quite odd wearing a female school uniform, wouldn't you think?"

"I prefer it much better with its hat on."

Right after hearing that, she suddenly felt a thick brownish liquid fall onto her head, slowly dripping a bit down her hair. It seems that his earlier on threat was not to be taken in vain. He smiled. "I also prefer it with some maple syrup."

"I see."

Before he could put it on the actual pancakes, Naoto had thrown the pancake smack against his face, bits of sugar getting into his eye. Promptly afterwards, she remembered her hands digging into more of the pancakes and flinging them across the room, chocolate chips flying everywhere. She remembered being caught within the epic conflict for several minutes and hiding over a few bits of furniture. Honestly though, it was all quite hard to recollect, considering the amount maple syrup covering her vision. Perhaps that was why all she could really recall afterwards was snuggling into each other among the mess of ruined of pancakes and powdered sugar, completely forgetting about the outside world.

Needless to say, nobody ate breakfast that morning.