Chocolate Fic for astrangerenters 1/4

[cupid_johnny]

To: astrangerenters
From: phrenk

Title: Astray
Pairing: Kanjiya Shihori/Ohno Satoshi; Kanjiya Shihori/Aiba Masaki; various other pairings
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "I don't want a roommate, Ohno-san, I want a pet. Would you be all right with that, having no rights and having to obey everything I say?"
A/N: astrangerenters: My fic was decided when I saw Kanjiya Shihori/Ohno and "anything like Kimi wa Petto" on your sign-up. I hope you like it! Fo: thank you so much for beta-reading! ♥ Tt!: thank you for everything, flkjdsjlsfkdj. ♥♥


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The sunshine was warm on Shihori's face as she clicked down the sidewalk in her expensive heels. Someday she'd be the boss and wear comfortable flats to work every day, but at just over five feet with a room full of tall, frequently condescending men, she wasn't about to give up the advantage of a few extra inches.

She did like the sound they made on the pavement. She felt poised and put together in her business suit with her hair pulled back neatly, and it didn't hurt that it was a beautiful day. Even the graffiti on the buildings seemed grander today, full of vivid colors and arresting shapes, and she hoped that it would be a while before the art was inevitably painted over.

It was finally the day when she'd get her due, after years of fighting her way to the top of the News & Current Events division of On the Dot Japan, and Shihori felt invincible.

Half an hour later, she was staring at her boss and trying to conceal her loathing.

"I'm sorry, Kanjiya-san. Your qualifications are impeccable, but we feel that Takada-kun is just a better fit."

She focused on his nostrils, wishing she could shove his stapler up them through the force of her mind. He seemed ill at ease, as he deserved, and continued babbling.

"Takada is just--you know, a lot of the guys just feel more... well, they see more of themselves in Takada, so it won't be as hard to take orders from him. You wouldn't want your subordinates to be uncomfortable, I know, Kanjiya-san."

Shihori wanted to kick and scream, or quit, or all of the above, but she liked her job, she wanted to be in this business, and she had to work with these people. To be more accurate, she had to work with these sexist assholes. She stood, nodding tightly, but Yoshida waved her back into her seat.

"We do have a very exciting position in mind for you, Kanjiya-san, even better than assistant director here."

The chair squeaked loudly as Shihori straightened up expectantly.

"We've decided to transfer you to the Entertainment & Style section. Congratulations."

The Style section. Shihori nearly threw her uncomfortable shoes at Yoshida's face.

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"Shii-chan, it won't be so bad. At least you don't have to work with those tools anymore." Karina's calm face and reassuring tone just made Shihori feel worse, like she was overreacting when really, she deserved to go a little ballistic.

"Yeah, and in Style you won't be as busy, surely, and after all this time, you could really use some free time," Yuriko added, winking to introduce innuendo where none needed to be.

Shihori rolled her eyes. "No matter what Yoshida-san said, not all of those guys have a problem with me. But it doesn't matter, because the higher-ups can't imagine a woman in charge of News."

"Don't think I didn't notice you didn't address my argument," Yuriko said, wagging her finger at Shihori before downing her mixed drink in one go.

"Not everyone is on the prowl for a man," Karina said mildly, and Yuriko laughed, face squishing adorably in contrast to her ruler-straight hair.

"If Shii-chan's ever on the prowl for a man, the men are in trouble. I've never met anyone with such high standards."

Shihori protested, "They're not unreasonable! He just has to be tall, handsome, and make more money than I do."

"And he has to have nice arms," Karina added slyly. Her wavy hair brushed the table as she teasingly feigned a body-builder pose.

"And didn't you say he should have visited at least twenty countries?"

Shihori glared at Yuriko, just waiting for the inevitable.

"Really, we all know that when you describe the man you want, you're really talking about your Aiba-senpai," Yuriko finished.

Karina raised her hand and called, "Another round here, please!"

"None of this is the point at all! I deserved that promotion, and instead, tomorrow I'll show up at Style, ready to be picked over by those fashion vultures."

Karina laughed, low-pitched and amused. "We're not so bad. At least you're not heading anywhere near Advertising, I hear those fuckers will steal a client if you turn around to get a cup of coffee."

Yuriko, seasoned cog in the advertising section, nodded in complete agreement. "I've taken to drinking juice."

It was the kind of comment that would earn Yuriko affectionately bemused stares if they hadn't been drinking, but as it was they all laughed, not paying any attention to the judgmental stares of the people around them who probably didn't think three ladies should be getting drunk in public.

When their fourth round of drinks had arrived, Karina shrugged, apropos of nothing. "If you don't want a boyfriend, how about a roommate? You have a spare bedroom, and I know you get lonely sometimes."

"I do not," Shihori said indignantly. "I am perfectly content with my life. Or I was, until Yoshida-san decided to crush my dreams between his pasty, clammy palms."

"Cheers!"

Karina looked levelly at Shihori. "I think I'll take my own lush of a roommate on home now." She tossed back her drink and stood smoothly, and Shihori spared a tipsy thought to marvel at how cool Karina was.

Taking a gulp of her own drink, she resolved that tomorrow she'd start working herself back up the ladder and get back in control of her own life.

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After griping to her best friend Keiko on the phone all the way there, Shihori continued griping while grabbing some snacks in the convenience store. Being passed over for a twit demanded something salty. She'd just gotten to the part where she was starting to think that maybe she did want a roommate, though she wasn't ready to admit that to Karina or Yuriko, when she ended the call up at the front and was disappointed not to see her favorite clerk.

Instead she got the small, tanned one, the one who needed reminding every time to give her credit card back. His sleepy eyes and round cheeks were sweet, but Shihori wasn't the most patient person and she tended to snap. The sleepy clerk never seemed to mind, though, and Shihori couldn't help smiling at him when she saw that he was swaying side to side while staring at her, clearly forcing himself to be awake enough to complete her transaction.

She rooted silently for him to remember to give her card back this time. He bagged her items, ran her card, and pushed the bag back over. She waited, trying not to make a caustic remark, and he smiled.

"If you need a roommate, I know someone who is looking."

Shihori blinked, not sure she'd ever heard this particular clerk speak before, at least above a mumble.

He looked sheepish. "I couldn't help hearing you on the phone, and if you're really interested in renting your second bedroom, um, like you said, then--"

"Yes," Shihori interrupted, feeling herself flush. Had she really been complaining that loudly? "I'm interested."

"Could I come see your place?" the clerk asked guilelessly. She squinted at him suspiciously, taking in his name-tag in case she needed to report his perverted behavior to his superior.

"Ohno-san, I don't know what you're trying to do, but I--

"Oh, no, I just, I know someone who is looking for a place to stay, that's all." His dark eyes radiated sincerity, and somehow Shihori believed him. Maybe it was how he had a grain of rice clinging to the side of his nose. It made her feel strangely maternal.

Instead of showing that, she said briskly, "When is good for you?"

His eyes crinkled up, and he turned to call to the back, "Maru-chan, I'm heading out."

He slid her credit card back over the counter, and she forgot to thank him, just slid it back into her wallet.

When Maruyama emerged from the storeroom, Shihori stopped herself before she sighed dreamily. He was tall, he was handsome, and he was funny. She had to think which one of her friends could see past the convenience stork clerk part and appreciate the sweetest guy on the planet.

"Are you coming?"

Shihori turned, blushing, to see that Ohno was holding the door open for her. She marched out, trying not to topple on her heels just when she wanted to be dignified.

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Shihori was glad she lived close by, because Ohno was not inclined to small talk. She'd introduced herself, but he knew her name from her credit card, and when she started asking him about his friend, he was so unencouraging that she gave up.

In the elevator on the way up to her floor, the reflection in the door let her know that with her heels on, she and Ohno were nearly the same height. His jeans and uniform shirt made her feel very grown-up and professional, and she caught herself wanting to poke a finger at the softest part of his cheek.

As soon as she kicked off her shoes in her entryway, though, she felt smaller and more vulnerable, and as unimposing as Ohno seemed, she remembered that she didn't really know him at all.

This was her home, though, a place she worked hard to afford and in which she was the only authority. After a day where she'd been made to feel inconsequential and silly, she stood up straight when showing Ohno around her small domain, and if she was a little imperious, he didn't seem to care.

Finally she showed him her spare room, empty but for a folded futon, and he looked at the walls, the floor, and the windows with far more interest than she thought they merited.

"What kind of light does this room get, Kanjiya-san?" He was standing by one of the two windows as if he could make it daytime just by concentrating on the view.

"It gets good light in the early afternoon. My bedroom's just on the other side of this wall."

He turned to her at that, focusing on her like he'd forgotten--something, she wasn't sure what. Something in his look made her suspect, and she asked, "Who exactly are you looking at this room for?"

He scratched the back of his neck, looking away. "Ah. Well, me, actually."

Shihori remembered that she didn't really want a roommate after all. People could be so irksome, and if she only had this one place of her own, she wasn't going to compromise.

She bowed with scornful politeness and said, "Allow me to show you the way out, Ohno-san."

His shoulders slumped, but he didn't argue. She couldn't get too mad if he was going to be so obedient about the whole thing. After she closed the door behind him, she began considering that maybe what she really wanted was a pet.

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The only bright spot of Shihori's first day in the style section was Karina being there, though since they were the two superiors under the head director of Entertainment & Style, they wouldn't be working together. Karina was in charge of producing the segments that got into the actual show, focusing on entertainment, and Shihori was heading the team that produced online content, usually style.

She'd shown up only to be greeted by two resentful new underlings, a stack of work she wasn't interested in, and so many disdainful looks at her clothes that she thought tomorrow she might as well go in naked.

She left the office building at eight pm, glad she'd thought to bring an umbrella because it was pouring. She skipped the convenience store, feeling a little sick at the thought of how many chips she'd eaten the night before, and walked straight home. If her shoes were ruined by puddles, maybe they'd magically be more stylish, because the expressions of her coworkers indicated they couldn't get any less.

Style news hooks that wouldn't bore her to tears were running through her mind as she reached her building, absorbing so much of her attention that she nearly didn't see the box.

She tilted her head, confused to see such a large item left unattended in the rain. As if it could feel her attention, it seemed to twitch slightly on the sidewalk. Before she could talk herself out of it, Shihori stepped forward and lightly kicked the box. She heard a pathetic moan, and forgetting her fear, she dropped down, still holding her umbrella, and opened the top.

Inside was a person, and for a moment, despite the sound and movement, Shihori thought he was dead. His face was cut and bruised, but what really alarmed her was the haphazard jumbling of the man's limbs inside the box, like he'd been tossed in and left to die. Shihori reached her hand in and trailed a finger along the unhurt cheek, only then realizing that this was someone she knew.

It was the sleepy clerk from the convenience store, Ohno. She gasped and stood, digging out her phone, then saw Ohno flinch as the rain poured down into his makeshift shelter. She leaned back toward the box so that her umbrella at least sheltered his face, and when he peered up at her, eyes focusing like he recognized her, she put her phone away.

It was the work of several minutes and a lot of cursing, but she dragged the box through the lobby and into the elevator. She kept up a hushed monologue the whole way, mostly complaining about being tired and soaked and the way the cardboard wanted to rip, and whenever she looked down, Ohno was looking back up at her.

Part of her thought that if she stopped talking, he wouldn't be all right.

In the elevator, Ohno managed to sit up, and Shihori shooed him back down, saying, "My landlord does not need to be apprised of this situation, Ohno-san." He sank back down, whimpering, and she wondered what injuries he had that she couldn't see. If he couldn't stand up when they got into her place, she was going to call an ambulance.

Once she got the box inside the door, he did stand up, and even managed to toe off his ratty sneakers, but then he slumped and started to fall. Shihori caught him, letting out a winded oomph at the impact, and tried to steer him toward her living room while kicking off her shoes.

They ended up tangled on the floor, Shihori landing mostly on Ohno, a mess of wet clothes and flailing limbs. He was cold and wet and making awful wheezes of hurt, and she scrambled off of him and ran for her first-aid kit, grabbing her biggest, fluffiest towel along the way.

When she got back, he hadn't moved, and she nudged him with her foot. "Take off your shirt and wrap up in this." She turned away as he complied, wondering if she should be more bold so that she could check him for more wounds, but then he made a soft noise that had her turning back. He was covered, drowning in the luxurious towel with just his head peeking out. It made him look small and helpless, like a round-cheeked baby animal, and Shihori felt her heart lurch.

She cleared her throat. "Let's get you to the bathroom."

In the hallway, she bent down to take off his socks and roll up his pant-legs, and he neither protested nor helped. She slid her own feet into a pair of flip-flops, then pulled him in and directed him to perch on her shower stool, tilting his head back so she could rinse out the worst of the cuts, the one above his eye.

Ohno was still under her ministrations, face pulled tightly into itself like he was trying not to make a sound. Shihori worked as quickly as she could, angling his face toward the light to see if she needed to clean the wound further, then went for another towel to pat his face dry so she could bandage him up.

She applied a butterfly bandage over his eye, then covered the worst of the scrapes on his cheek with a large adhesive bandage. She nearly gave in to the impulse to poke his other cheek right then, but restrained herself, because he still seemed dazed.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

He poked one arm out of the towel, which lifted to expose a few inches of his side. That skin, which she'd expected to be pale, was almost as dark as his arms. Then all she could see were the scrapes on his wrist and hand, and the way he let it hang there like holding it up would hurt too much.

"All right," she said to herself.

She rinsed Ohno's hand, trying not to hurt him, then led him out to her couch, prudently lying another towel down on it first. She wrapped his wrist tightly, trying to ooze competence when she really hadn't done anything like this since helping the athletic trainer out in high school, then patted him lightly on his knee. He was looking at her again, she noticed. Since she'd gotten him in her door, she'd been wondering at herself, wondering why she hadn't just called someone instead of taking an injured stranger into her home, but now she wondered about it from his side. He'd let her drag him inside, manhandle him this way and that, and now he was looking at her like even though she'd stopped treating his injuries, he was still entirely in her hands.

Shihori didn't quite know what to do with that. Instead she asked, "What happened?"

He chuckled, which had her worrying a little less about a head injury. "It took you a long time to ask."

"I was busy. Answer the question."

He leaned back on her couch, tucking himself tightly into the nook between back, arm, and cushion, abruptly looking like he was comfortably at home. Shihori nearly kicked him out right then, but she was too curious to know just why he'd ended up in the box.

Ohno yawned. "Can I stay here?"

Shihori's mouth dropped open. He didn't even ask for just the night! Curiosity lost the battle, and she ordered, "Out of my apartment." She pulled at Ohno's uninjured arm, but it was a hard to get a grip when he was swaddled in terry-cloth, and the little weasel clung to the couch.

She burst out, "Don't you have any pride at all?"

Ohno shook his head, still holding defensively onto the upholstery. "You said you wanted a roommate, and I don't have anywhere to stay."

"Get out." Shihori resorted to tickling his feet, and Ohno jumped and squawked but didn't relinquish his grip.

"Kanjiya-san, please," he whined, and Shihori had never been less attracted to anyone in her life. She decided to put an end to this.

"I don't want a roommate, Ohno-san, I want a pet. So there is that vacancy, but would you be all right with that, having no rights and having to obey everything I say?"

She sat back on her heels, pleased to be getting rid of him at last. His grip loosened on the couch as he stared at her, face blank. Then his lips curled up slightly.

"I accept." He dropped to his knees beside her, suddenly much too close, and Shihori scrambled to her feet, trying to stay on top of the situation.

Ohno was kneeling, feet tucked under himself, and looking up at her with what suddenly looked like devotion. He brought a hand up, fingers curled in as if it were a paw, and said, "Woof."

Shihori reeled, staring down at the man at her feet, heart twinging again at his endearing behavior even as her mind revolted. "The answer isn't woof!"

He tilted his head curiously, then uncurled his fingers as if he meant to scratch her. "Meow?"

Despite herself, Shihori's hand drifted down, nearly brushing Ohno's damp hair. He leaned toward it, clearly asking to be petted, and she snatched her hand away.

"You can sleep on the couch. We'll talk in the morning."

Surely by then she wouldn't be wavering on whether to take him up on this daft idea.

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In the morning, everything seemed clear to Shihori. She'd get rid of Ohno and continue on with her life as planned.

She walked into the living room to toss him out, but when she caught sight of him, she wavered harder than ever.

He was curled up on the couch, hair spiking every which way, and his face was pressed against his arm in such a way that his cheek pooched out over it like he was a little kid. When she saw that his legs were twitching, like a dog dreaming of a chasing a rabbit, she gave up.

It was likely that when Ohno woke up, he wouldn't want to stay as her pet.

If he did, she wasn't going to make him leave. With that settled, Shihori went to make breakfast.

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For someone she'd had good reason to believe was taciturn, Ohno was positively chatty at breakfast. She was waiting for him to take back his acceptance of being a pet, or for him to tell her he still wanted to stay as one, but he did neither.

He exclaimed about the food, which he said was delicious. He said, prompted by nothing, that he was glad his shirt was dry. He mumbled, mouth full, about the morning light coming in her windows, that it sure was different high up where neighboring buildings didn't block the sun. Once, he sat back in his chair, looking utterly content, and told her quite seriously that her apartment was the perfect temperature.

Shihori poked at her food and waited, getting simultaneously grumpy (because she wanted things to be settled either way) and comfortable with him (because he was just so charmingly aimless in everything he did).

When he finally finished eating, he just sat there, satisfied, looking at his fingernails.

Shihori pushed back from the table, and Ohno's eyes shot to her. It seemed that some of his placidity had been put on, because now she could see that he had a nervous sort of tension, just barely there, hidden under lazy contentment.

This gave her the courage to say, "Ohno-san, I'll take you as my pet."

His eyes widened, then his arms shot up, and he was doing a ridiculous victory pose right in front of her eyes.

She couldn't help asking, "Then you really want to do that?"

He nodded, grinning.

"Really?"

His smile changed to something easier, something comfortable. "Will you feed me?"

"You have to obey." Shihori thought surely he didn't understand this part.

"Can I sleep here?" Ohno countered.

"Yes, I'll feed you, you can sleep here, but--" She cut off as he dropped to the floor and crawled over to her.

After a moment when Shihori sat frozen, Ohno pressed his head against her leg gently, then firmer, demanding, and she huffed.

When she dropped a hand into his hair, he pushed into it, and she scratched behind his ears. He turned his head to look up at her, resting his temple on her thigh. Her hand stilled, fingers entwined with his hair.

He smiled. "Master."

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A person less self-assured would probably have spent much of their day second-guessing a decision to take a human as a pet. Shihori considered it done. She would deal with it later, whether it worked out or not.

It helped that her new job was time-consuming and frustrating, though it didn't feel like a benefit.

"Kanjiya-san, none of these ideas work," her new boss Takanori said, not even bothering to pause as he walked by. Shihori looked at the binder he'd tossed onto her desk and sighed. She was going to have to ask for help. She looked to her right and found Erika looking amused, to her left and found Ryo looking disdainful.

She'd ask Karina at lunch. For the present she worked on other things, trying not to feel her subordinates staring at her. She didn't want to be here, but she wasn't willing to do anything other than her best work.

As she and Karina walked to the cafeteria a couple hours later, she remembered that she had someone at home, waiting for her return.

But then she forgot again, because there, standing in front of her, was Aiba Masaki.

Shihori spluttered, feeling a deep flush permeate her face, and squeaked out, "Aiba-senpai?"

Karina murmured, "I'll meet you in the cafeteria, stud," and walked quickly ahead, nodding politely to Aiba as she passed.

"Kanjiya-san, long time no see," Aiba said cheerfully, bowing lower than anyone else would. Shihori dipped her head, still staring at her college crush standing right in front of her. He looked even better than she remembered, with his perfectly messy hair, flashy but flattering clothes, and how very tall he seemed, though he really wasn't much taller than average.

He made her feel short, dumpy, and completely tongue-tied. She tried to think of something to say, wondering if it was too out of the blue to mention she was still in touch with Aiba's old college friend Sho. She put that in reserve in case conversation truly stagnated.

"Kanjiya-san," Aiba said again, dimples appearing to wink happily at her. "Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow?" When she just stared at him, he cleared his throat, smile fading, and then tacked on, "Like, a date? But it doesn't have to be, I just thought maybe... if you wanted, or we could be--"

"A date would be wonderful," Shihori croaked, trying not to run away. She smiled at him as best she could, and he beamed back at her.

"Great! We can catch up then, I can't wait. I'll meet you here tomorrow, at the same time."

She nodded, thinking she should probably blink soon if she didn't want her eyes stuck open forever.

Aiba waved as he walked away, long legs carrying him away from her, and Shihori realized that tomorrow she had a date. With Aiba Masaki.

She rushed to the cafeteria to tell Karina and Yuriko.

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Shihori worked late, trying to overcome her lack of experience in her new field, and Erika and Ryo stayed and worked as well. She was surprised they didn't complain about it, but she didn't let it show.

With Karina's pointers taken in mind, she turned in another set of ideas for style items for the site, and she could only hope she wouldn't be starting from scratch again tomorrow.

For now, she was headed home.

She wondered if Ohno would really still be there. Would he be waiting by the door, figurative tail wagging?

The apartment was dark as she let herself in, and she sighed. Alone again. It made more sense that Ohno would find somewhere to stay where he didn't have to be a pet, but she was surprisingly disappointed.

Then she heard a snuffling noise and tiptoed into the living room to find... Ohno, asleep on the rug, clothes askew from the way his limbs were flung every which way.

She had a pet. She smiled and dropped to her knees beside him, then scritched her fingers through his hair. He made a contented noise before turning to curl around her, body making a cozy C-shape on the floor.

"Welcome home." His voice was scratchy from sleep, and he hadn't even opened his eyes. His bandages made her feel unbearably protective.

"I'm home," Shihori said softly.

Dinner that night was quiet, both of them paying more attention to their food than each other, but it was comfortable.

Ohno asked about the untouched surfing gear he'd found in the closet in his room, which Shihori had plans to use someday when she had the time, and she asked him about ending up in the box, but he put her off again. Mostly he muttered to himself about the extreme deliciousness of the food.

It was nice. Afterward she sat on the couch, looking over some documents from work and checking them against the actual site, and he stood and looked at her, clearly wanting to say something. She didn't push, figuring he'd say it if he wanted to. She wondered if Erika and Ryo would be nicer to her if she tried to pretend she wanted to be there.

"Shihori."

She looked up, irritated that he'd use her name without honorifics, but he looked so unassuming that she merely said, "Shihori-san."

"Shihori-san," Ohno repeated meekly. "Would you wash my hair?"

She was caught off-guard, but answered smoothly, "Nope."

"Please, I tried but it hurt my hand." He held out his injured arm like evidence, and when she glanced up, he was making a pitiful expression.

"Fine." She put her work aside and headed to the bathroom. "Aren't you coming?"

"Do you have any swim trunks I could wear?" He looked apprehensive. "Or... do you have bubble bath?"

She chuckled. "Are you embarrassed? Pets don't usually wear clothes, you know."

He jutted his jaw out at her. "Human pets do. If you're not naked, I don't want to be naked either." He gave a little shiver just at the thought.

"I'll draw the bath and make it nice and bubbly," she said kindly, and he gave her the briefest squeeze around the waist as he darted past her. It felt like gratitude for not teasing him, so she let it go, and besides, he was her pet. It would take her a while to get used to that.

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"Feels good." Ohno's voice was blissful as Shihori scrubbed circles into his scalp.

"Does it?" she said, then stopped moving. He whined, peeking back at her, and she made a threatening face. "Tell me how you ended up in the box or I'll stop."

"You already stopped," he said sullenly, but when she made to move her hands away, he said quickly, "I was hiding."

"From?" She started scrubbing again, and he sank back into the tub happily, hurt hand safely over the side.

"There's this group of bullies in my neighborhood. This one guy, he was in my class at school, I saw him taunting this grandma I know."

"Mmm," she said, encouraging him on. The bubbles obscured his body, the shampoo was slick in his hair, and overall she was feeling content with everything, though sometimes she had a flash of wondering what the hell she was doing.

"I drew a picture of him, so they beat me up," Ohno concluded. Shihori's hands paused.

"That doesn't make sense."

"Ah, it was on a building. And it was a caricature, I guess, I made him look... he has these squinting eyes and the scraggliest beard, as if he wanted a full one but couldn't grow it..."

"You made him look stupid. With graffiti." Her hands started moving again as she thought this over. "I can see why that would piss him off, if everyone could see."

"Everyone could see," Ohno said smugly. "But then they found me, and he had all these guys... finally I got away, and when I heard them behind me, I hid in that box."

"Do you do a lot of graffiti? Don't be putting my face on a building, caricature or not."

"I won't," he said drowsily, sinking a little farther into the suds. "I don't usually do people anyway."

"Good. Time to rinse, Ohno-san."

"You'll call your pet Ohno-san?" he asked, clearly stalling losing her touch. She rubbed a little longer, thinking it over.

"What should I call you, then?"

He pushed up into her hands, just enough to show his appreciation. "Whatever you want."

"Oh-chan, then," she said fondly. Then she pulled her hands away and said firmly, "Oh-chan, time to rinse."

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Lying in bed that night, all Shihori could think about was Aiba.

At least he'd clarified that he wanted a date, because otherwise she'd be agonizing over that, but she still couldn't believe she and Aiba were going to see each other, on purpose, romantically, tomorrow.

He'd been in a monogamous relationship the whole time she'd known him in college. She'd envied Becky almost as much as she'd wanted to be her friend, but Becky was a year older and a human whirligig, and Shihori had always preferred staying in. Staying in, however, lent itself well to pining over Aiba, and she'd pined with an intensity that was almost pleasant, wallowing in the feeling without ever having an outlet for it.

She wondered if she should take some sort of tranquilizer before lunch, if she was expected to be a normal person on a first date with Aiba rather than a previously-obsessed recluse. She reminded herself that it was in the past.

Somehow, she had a date with Aiba tomorrow.

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Shihori was feeling her absolute best. Takanori had accepted her new ideas, though not without grumbling, and Ryo had fetched her coffee without "accidentally" dumping salt in it. Erika had even complimented her... well, she'd said, "I really like your--" before trailing off and looking dubiously at Shihori's outfit, but it was still a win. They were trying, and Shihori was going to try twice as hard from now on to make it work.

As she strode down the hallway with Karina, she felt polished, professional, and pretty, totally ready for her date with Aiba. She was wearing her cutest outfit that was still utterly work-appropriate and her very tallest shoes. Those teetering heels would get her up near Aiba's height enough that she could enjoy their height difference without feeling dwarfed by him.

Karina stopped her with a hand on her wrist and inspected her from top to toe. Then she smiled and said, "You are fantastic, Shii-chan. I hope your date goes well."

"It will," Shihori replied, striking a determined pose.

"Go get him." At Karina's eyebrow waggle, Shihori laughed.

"Yuri-chan is a bad influence on you."

A familiar voice called, "Kanjiya-san!"

Karina bobbed her chin at her and left to meet Yuriko, and Shihori turned to Aiba.

She immediately felt ridiculous. Somehow the nearly silly, entirely stylish clothes that Aiba wore had her feeling both over- and under-dressed, and his effortless social charm, apparent in his smile and easy-going wave, had her feeling like a cave troll dropped into a tea ceremony.

She was exaggerating. She was not going to screw up her shot with the man of her dreams. She squared her shoulders and marched forward to meet Aiba.

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Somehow Shihori survived her date with Aiba, and it must have gone decently enough because she had another one for dinner Sunday night. She had a few minutes at her desk, trying to settle her thoughts and determine for herself how the lunch had gone, then everything went to shit.

Takanori came over and snapped at her to follow him into his office, and when Ryo made a faux-terrified face, Erika forgot her good intentions from the morning and cackled. Shihori tried to walk with dignity, not acknowledging their lack of respect, but she didn't have enough practice walking in her tallest heels, and the next thing she knew she was on the ground, ankle throbbing, while her boss yelled at her to hurry up.

She grabbed her shoe (heel snapped, of course) and hobbled after him, sure things were about to get worse.

They did.

Takanori informed her, in tones loud enough for the whole office to hear, that she'd mislabeled an outfit in a slide that had gone online the day before, and now the actual designer wanted to sue. When Shihori choked out that she'd had Ryo and Erika fact-check the entire folder she'd handed in, Takanori added an additional lecture about personal responsibility and not shifting blame, tone derisive. She nodded, jaw clenched, and strove not to cry in front of someone who would probably see it as feminine weakness.

She imagined his face on a punching bag and beat it to shreds, belatedly realizing she was gesticulating violently with her broken shoe. She stopped, but Takanori was staring at her disbelievingly, and then, like he was trying to break her spirit, he sent her home.

"Let me at least talk to the designer, explain that it was my fault--"

"No. Just go, let the rest of us clean up your mess. Come back Monday, if you think you can do any better."

Between giving up the argument and fighting on through tears, Shihori chose to leave. As she stumbled out, desperately holding her emotions in until at least the hallway, she saw Karina's worried face across the room, Ryo and Erika looking guilty, and then the exit sign, blurry and beckoning.

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"Welcome home; you're early, Shihori-chan."

At the sound of Ohno's warm voice, Shihori slid to the floor of her entryway, finally letting herself cry. She didn't know how she'd made it home, but now that she had, she didn't want to leave ever again.

"Shihori-chan?" It sounded like her pet was panicking a bit at the sight of her tears. She chuckled, but it turned into a sob, and then Ohno was there.

She looked up to find him looking steadily at her, expression concerned, and she wondered if she should try to explain. She could only think an explanation would end in a vow never to go back to that office, and some small, strong part of her knew that she'd be going back in to work in a couple days, spine straight and face impassive, so she held in her words and just cried instead.

For a moment, Ohno looked helpless, and then he knelt, so close she could feel their clothes brush, and offered his hair for stroking. She stared, breath catching, and then she let her hand come up to pet him, fingers running through the dark strands over and over.

After a moment, she pulled his head to her body and just held him, feeling comfort soak in through the contact. He was solid and warm against her, but he didn't shift either toward her or away, just let the entire situation be on her terms. One of her hands cradled his neck while the other kept stroking his hair, and she dropped her head down to rest against his, feeling like she was home, she was safe, and everything was going to be all right.

He let her hold him for a long time, and when she pressed him gently away, he went easily. He looked content, less sleepy than peaceful, and then, for a moment, she thought he might kiss her.

Her breath came faster as she tried to figure out how she'd react, but then his expression shifted from something wanting to something silly.

"Shihori-chan, am I a cat or a dog?"

She grinned, mopping her face with her jacket to get rid of those spent tears. She reached out and stroked from his forehead all the way back to his neck, a smooth, adoring stroke, and said, "A kitty."

Leaving that hand on his neck, she brought her other up and scratched behind his ear, giggling at the loopy expression he made. She concluded, "And a mutt, both." She petted with both hands and then pulled away, enjoying the way he leaned after her as if to chase her affection.

Finally giving in to temptation, she extended a finger and poked at the soft roundness of his cheek. Since he didn't even blink, she did it again, then poked the other side. "Hmm, and maybe a panda."

"Jun-kun says I have baby bear eyes," he said, and his tone and expression somehow made it feel like a complaint about the difficulty of playing three roles at once. She grabbed him by the chin so that his cheeks pushed out even more.

"Time to make dinner, panda-chan."

"Pandas like curry!"

"We're having soba."

Later, they ended up cuddling on the couch. She'd turned on a cheesy drama, and he'd gotten an ice-pack for her ankle after seeing her walk, but her focus was on the feeling of having someone trusted right next to her, their bodies curved and overlapping to accommodate each other, breathing together and soaking in the easy affection of owner and pet.

She didn't think about Aiba, her stupid shoe, her mistake at work, or her nasty coworkers, just laughed along with Ohno's soft chuffs at the television.

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The day was sunny and warm, there was only one little girl playing on the playground, and their hands were loosely clasped between them on the wooden park bench. Keiko's face was a picture of indecision, her long ponytail swinging slightly as she debated within herself.

Shihori had just told her best friend the barest bones versions of both adopting a human pet and starting to date the person she'd idealized for years, and Keiko couldn't decide about which to interrogate her first.

Finally she said, "Some strange man is living in your home?" Shihori's breath gusted out; she'd had a bet with herself that Keiko would ask about Aiba first.

"He's my pet. It's weird, I know, but it's working out. It feels--"

"It feels weird, stick with that feeling, that one seems right. Sora-chan, sliding is not done head first!"

Shihori smiled at Sora's answering shout. "He is a man, yeah, and I'm a heterosexual woman, but I'm not attracted to him that way. He's just... he's sweet, like a puppy, and soft, like a kitten, and he likes attention but he's all right being left alone for hours and hours. And he's got these cheeks--oh god, on his face, Keiko, wipe that expression off right now!"

"Then his butt is no good?" Keiko asked, abruptly switching sides of the argument to sound disappointed.

"I haven't even noticed," Shihori lied. It had to be acknowledged that her pet had a fabulous ass.

"What about his arms?" her friend asked suspiciously, knowing Shihori was a connoisseur of well-muscled arms.

Shihori considered Ohno's arms. She hadn't really gotten a good look, so she said fairly, "I'm not sure."

Keiko seemed to take this lack of interest as a sign not to worry. "Well, all right, but I'm coming over to meet him soon, and that's that. Now tell me everything about Aiba-chan!"

"Wait--since when is it Aiba-chan? Last I heard it was still Aiba-senpai, Kei-chan of the Kitagawa clan."

Keiko looked guilty. "I didn't want to tell you, since you were doing so well getting over him, even dating that wonderful man--you remember Shige, the one you dumped and broke both his heart and mine?--but Aiba-chan and Becky-chan used to come over for dinner every month or so, back before they broke up."

This took some digestion, but the first thing Shihori asked was, "How long ago did they split?"

"Maybe a year? No, ten months. She said she had to focus completely on work or she'd never forgive herself, and then they fought, since he--well, Sho and Aiba-chan still get together a lot, but without Becky-chan around, I haven't been able to get him back over for dinner." Keiko's face lit up. "But now, if you're dating him--"

"Impossible. Our fragile bond will not be subjected to you and Sho-kun and your ridiculously happy marriage. It'd be enough to give any new couple a complex."

"We're not that bad," Keiko said, but she was grinning like a loon, clearly pleased. "Tell me about your date already, come on."

"We'll discuss this secret-keeping later, but yes, we had a date, and I think it was lovely."

"You think?"

"It's hard to tell, it's all a wash of nerves and cold sweat in my memories... but we're going out again tomorrow, so it must have gone well."

"Shii-chan, if he makes you that uncomfortable--"

"How could Aiba-senpai make anyone uncomfortable?" Shihori was sure that if there were any issues with dating Aiba, they could be overcome with a little persistence.

Keiko considered this, then grinned. "That is an excellent point. But try to calm down, all right? That lovable airhead doesn't merit worshiping, especially by someone as together as you are."

Shihori squeezed her hand. "Kei-chan, how's it been, going back to work?"

Keiko started punching the air violently with their linked hands, and Shihori let her rant it all out.

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"I'm home!" Shihori called, squinting into the darkness. Ohno had told her that he was switching to day shifts, but it was still hard to believe that he'd really be there when she got home every day.

"Yes," a voice called back, and she switched the lights on to find Ohno on the couch, both feet high in the air.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I hurt my calves," he said, not seeming too distressed.

Shihori sat on the free cushion and patted her lap, then again when Ohno didn't move. Finally he lowered his legs to rest on hers, though he was giving her a leery look. She didn't tell him that every one of his expressions was cute with the Doraemon band-aid over his eye.

She pushed up his pajama pants to bare his legs, dropping a forearm over his ankles when he started squirming, and rubbed at the tight muscles of his calf.

"Massage is my specialty. Stop wriggling, puppy-chan, that's an order."

Ohno settled, though his face was still going through wacky contortions. It didn't seem like she was hurting him, so she wondered why he was anxious. She rubbed her way up to his knees, and he seemed to calm down, so she rubbed back down toward his ankles, and his face squeezed back into a mask of terror. Apparently he had sensitive feet.

"Don't you think you're being a little dramatic?" She moved back up to his calves again, letting it go for now.

Ohno scowled defiantly. "No."

"How'd you hurt yourself?"

"Dancing."

Shihori waited for more, then poked her longest nail into the vulnerable back of his knee. "Oi, Oh-chan, spill the beans."

He huffed. "My friends kept asking me to be in one of their stageplays, but it sounded like a lot of work. Now my legs are broken, see."

"Why'd you join, then?" Her pet had nice legs, Shihori thought absently. They were muscular but sleek, the strong curve leading down to trim ankles.

"My mama, when she kicked me out, she made me mad. When Nino asked this time around, I said yes, and they won't let me back out. Jun-kun practically had me sign my name in blood."

She felt like she was dragging the story out of him in reverse, but asked patiently, "Why did your mother kick you out?"

He shrugged. "I'm thirty now, working at a convenience store, don't go outside much except to go fishing. She tried to bet me that it was impossible for me to live alone, but I agreed, so."

"You agreed, but you got mad?" She started working on the other calf, and he winced, trying to jerk his legs away again. She made a stern face at him until he stilled.

"I told her I had something coming up, something big, but she didn't believe me. I don't lie, you know."

Shihori didn't know that, really, but she said, "I know, Oh-chan."

For a moment they were quiet, even Ohno's expressions relaxing a bit, then Shihori mused, "So you work at that convenience store, you fish, you're dancing in a stageplay... what else?"

Ohno smiled. "I'm your pet."

She smiled back, letting her hand drift down past his ankle, and when he yowled she moved it back up and said, "But that's not the big thing, so what's that?"

He looked at her distrustfully, torso a foot off the upholstery. She struggled to make it look easy, holding his legs down, and eventually he subsided.

When she made a questioning noise, reminding him of their conversation, he sighed, settling back into the cushions and looking abruptly sleepy. "It's really big, Shihori-chan. When it happens, I'll send you the very first invitation."

She was touched. She hugged his shins as best she could, and then, seeing his eyes close, went for his feet.

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"How'd you get that scratch on your face?"

First Ohno had thrashed, but she'd kept exclaiming about how soft his feet were, and when she switched the word soft for fluffy, he'd broken off in the middle of his complaining to laugh and lightly swat her on the head. After that, he'd confined his protests to a series of intense facial expressions... until she'd hit a particularly tender spot and his foot had shot up uncontrollably, somehow scratching her face with one toenail.

Seeing Aiba's inquiring expression, Shihori said simply, "I have a pet."

"Oh, really, what kind?" he exclaimed, face lighting up. She belatedly remembered his long speech at their lunch about how much he loved being an animal photographer, someone who traveled around the world just to meet all kinds of animals and take their pictures.

"A cat," she decided, hoping that was too boring for further questions.

"Uwaaa, I have always wanted a cat, but my mom is allergic and she said I'd bring the dander home on my clothes. Is it a he or a she, when can I meet your cat, is it a kitten or an adult, is it cute?"

She stared at him, trying to gather her words into believable lies.

"But of course it's cute, all cats are cute, you're right. Do you want a band-aid for your face?"

After she'd been scratched, Ohno had apologized, though once he'd seen she was all right he'd started muttering darkly about what happened was inevitable if someone touched his feet. She'd ordered him to lie flat on the sofa and shut up, and then she'd cut his toenails, managing not to nick him by dint of threatening to stop washing his hair if he moved.

"Shihori-san?"

She blinked out of her daydream to find that Aiba's face was very close. How could she have zoned out with someone so handsome sitting across from her? And somehow, up close, he was even more attractive, his pretty eyes full of life, his mouth soft and inviting, the flash of an earring peeking out from his hair. It seemed like his eyes were darker than a moment ago as he swayed even closer to her.

She panicked. "Uh, he's a naughty cat, big and mean and I can't ever have guests over, he'd scratch their eyes out."

She sent a mental apology to Ohno, though he was probably still napping on the rug after their impromptu wrestling match earlier, which Shihori had won by the judicious use of some vicious tickling.

Aiba's big eyes blinked slowly. "I see. You want dessert, right? Want to get two things and share them?"

She sighed with relief as he sat back in his chair, then brightened at the prospect of dessert.

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Lulled as she was with two delicious types of cake inside of her, Shihori couldn't think of a good excuse to stop Aiba walking her all the way up to her door.

Truth be told, she was also hoping he'd kiss her. But now he was leaning in, talking about having coffee inside her apartment, and she wanted to tell him to kiss her and scram but... he'd be shocked, she couldn't tell him what to do like that, and she really couldn't be so clear that she wanted him. Aiba was used to her being quiet and demure.

Thinking about it like that made her want to kiss him a little less.

"I'm just not ready to say goodnight yet, Shihori-chan. Ah, I don't mean, I'm not trying anything weird--although I would really like to kiss you, but um--"

Aiba's rambling honesty had Shihori warming up to him again. If he knew her as demure, it was because that was the only side of herself she'd shown to him. Becky was one of the least demure women Shihori had ever known, and Aiba had obviously loved her to distraction.

To stop thinking about that, Shihori nodded and unlocked her door, peeking ahead to find welcome darkness.

"Let me go clean up for a minute," she improvised. "Stay here."

Aiba made an exaggerated face of assent and froze in place.

Ohno wasn't in the living room, and the bathroom was unoccupied. She had a little time to herself with Aiba, time for coffee and smooches, hopefully.

She turned on the lights and called for Aiba to come in. She turned to the kitchen and was met with a warm body traveling too quickly, Aiba having slid across the wood floor on his socks and not planned well.

He was in her arms at last. She clung for a moment, feeling how solid and strong he was, and breathed in the scent of him. He made her feel small and feminine, and when he backed up a bit to look down at her, she tilted her chin up willingly.

He was leaning down, lips about to brush hers, when the barking started.

Shihori jumped back, genuinely frightened for a second, and then she realized it must be Ohno. Aiba looked confused and a little excited, and she had to hold his arm to keep him from starting toward the sounds.

He turned to her, brow wrinkling. "I thought you said you had a cat?"

She cursed Ohno in her head as the barking ceased. "I do, I'm just also pet-sitting for my friend. Her dog is, um, very violent, you should probably go, Aiba-senpai."

"You could call me something else, you know."

Distracted, she said, "Hmm?"

He came a little closer, and her eyes met his. "Most people call me Aiba-chan. Or you could call me Maa-kun..."

Shihori was about to grab his collar and bring his mouth down to hers, lady-like behavior be damned, when her wretched pet started a ridiculous, incredibly loud howl.

"I'll see you soon, Aiba--Aiba-chan."

He looked disappointed, but he went gracefully, waving vigorously until the door snicked shut. As soon as she locked the door, Shihori turned and snarled.

"Oh-chan, you mongrel, get out here!"

He slunk out to the living room slowly, then refused to sit when she pointed at the couch. She pushed him down, getting even angrier by his obvious lack of penitence.

"What the hell, Oh-chan? Were you trying to ruin my date?"

"You didn't say you were going on a date, then you bring him here, to our home," he said petulantly.

She sighed, then thought out loud, "Where were you, anyway? Were you hiding?"

"I wasn't hiding; I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was in my room."

She blinked, having forgotten that he even had a room. He always slept in the living room and only seemed to disappear for a bit after bathing to put on fresh pajamas. She'd bought him a bargain pack of three pairs of gray pajamas just like hers.

"Well, I wasn't doing anything wrong either," she said fiercely, shaking her finger in his face.

To her shock, he slapped her hand away. It didn't hurt physically, but emotionally she was stricken.

"You brought him here," Ohno mumbled angrily.

"Well, I own this place, I can do what I like. And I care about him, I can do what I like with him, too!"

Ohno's frown got deeper and deeper as Shihori went recklessly on. Finally he pushed up from the couch and glared at her.

"I'm going out."

She threw up her hands. "Good!"

As she watched him storm away, though, some part of her started to fret that he meant he wasn't coming back. When he turned to slip into his shoes, he saw her expression and hesitated.

Shihori wasn't known for her good temper. "Go on then, if you want to go!"

Ohno's expression turned resolutely nasty. But even then, even when she was pushing him away, he said, "I'll be back."

Under all the layers of hurt and anger, Shihori was deeply relieved.

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Part two