ATTENTION ALL READERS!!!

This is NOT my story. I wrote "Wings of a Moth" but "Finding You Again" belongs to Stromlight! Stormlight asked me if she could write a sequel and because I love her writing so much, I let her. She has also been kind enough to allow me to post it as the second chapter to my story! *cheers and waves flags* Yay! Well. That's about it. I just wanted to make sure everyone knew that I didn't write this. Giving credit to where it's due and all that.

Finding You Again
by Stormlight
Sequel to Yumiko Kaze's "Wings of a Moth"

Miaka was having a very nice dream.

She dreamed that she was back in Konan, at a grand banquet in the palace, and that she was dancing in someone's arms.which was rather odd, really, considering that she didn't know how to dance. And besides.why in the world would they be dancing the waltz in Ancient China, anyway?

But that hardly mattered, now did it? And it wasn't as though she was thinking of those things at the moment, anyway. She had much more important things to think of, such as how her partner's arms were strong and firm around her, holding her possessively close. How his long, beautiful hair fell all around them in a cool, silken mantle (So familiar.now.who did she know that had such hair, she wondered languorously), and every once in awhile she felt soft, warm lips brushing her temple, sending a kind of thrill straight down to her toes. She couldn't see his face; she couldn't really see much of anything, actually, but that didn't bother her, either. Everything around her-including her partner-was kind of hazy and blurry, as though she was gazing through the kind of wavering air that could only rise off the floor of a desert, but without the unbearable heat. But she was warm, oh yes; her partner's body heat soaked into her and made her feel languid and sleepy and she did not hesitate to lean into him and rest her head against his broad chest, feeling those arms tighten around her just a little more. She couldn't remember ever feeling so at peace.

But then she woke up.

It was a gentle awakening, but it was an awakening nonetheless, and Miaka fought it with all her might, not wanting to lose the precious sensation of being held so lovingly in this strangely familiar embrace. Her features, once relaxed in sleep, began to grimace in irritation as she squeezed her eyes tighter in an effort to hold onto the fading dream, but it was no good, and the last vestiges faded away to leave her feeling bereft and abandoned, lying all alone in her bed.

Only.she wasn't alone.

The arms were still there, she realized with a slight flush of panic, still holding her so close, and she could feel herself pressed against a warm, hard body that had obviously not been there when she'd fallen asleep. One of her legs had at some point shifted across his own (she knew it was a him, even without opening her eyes), and she felt her face flush at the sudden realization that, good grief, she was practically draped around him! Her heart abruptly migrated into her throat and she swallowed around it with difficulty as she kept her eyes firmly closed, not wanting to see what every other sense was telling her was true.

There was a man sleeping with her in her bed.

Okay.okay. Calm down, Miaka. You can handle this. It isn't as though you've never had a man in your bed before. She paused. Well, okay, so she'd never had a man in her bed before, not even Taka, heaven bless his back-stabbing little soul. She grimaced. Bad thoughts.bad thoughts. Concentrate on the important things, please.like why was there a man sleeping in her bed?!

But.but.there was something strangely soothing about this presence, she realized suddenly, something calm and dear and oh-so-familiar, as though she'd known him before. Aside from the obvious, she was surprised at herself to discover that she really wasn't as panicked about her current situation as she thought she should be. She was rather enjoying it too much to be too upset. It's like my dream, she suddenly realized, as her heart skipped a couple of beats. It's him. My partner in the dream.only he's here.

And she knew. It was an epiphany, a sudden realization, striking her like a lightning bolt. The partner that she'd failed to fully recognize in her dream was suddenly crystal-clear in her mind, and her breath stilled in her throat. "It can't be.it can't be.I'm still dreaming, that's it," she whispered to herself, suddenly afraid to wake up, for fear that if she did he'd be gone.

"Why don't you open your eyes and find out," a deep, soothing voice murmured in her ear, warm breath drifting softly across her cheek and effectively kicking her heart into an erratic, pounding rhythm. With another yip much like the one she'd released upon first finding the moth in Yui's room, her eyes shot open.and she abruptly found her gaze locked onto an intense, golden stare.

"H-Hotohori."

His name left her lips on a quivering breath, her flushed cheeks paling at the sight that beheld her eyes. It was him it was him it was him. He was exactly as she remembered him. The same finely sculpted features, the same soft smile, the same beautiful, golden eyes that seemed to always be filled with such gentle love and devotion, gazing at her through long, soft lashes and silken strands of tarnished-silver hair, slightly mussed from sleep. Almost in a trance, one hand came up to touch his face gently, tracing lightly over his cheek, memorizing the feel of smooth, warm flesh beneath her fingers. "H-how.?" she murmured.

He rose gracefully into a sitting position, leaning over her with one arm bracing his weight beside her head. The blankets fell to his waist in a messy pile and his hair streamed over his shoulders and down his bare back, but he barely noticed this as his hand came up to capture her own, threading his fingers through hers and bringing it to his lips to press a soft kiss into her palm. He watched as a faint flush crept into her white cheeks, resisting the urge to kiss more than just her palm. Instead, he copied her gesture and reached up to stroke his hand against her face, relishing the contact of soft skin against his knuckles. "I have you to thank, Miaka," he murmured, her name falling from his tongue like honey.

Her eyes widened. "M-me? Wh-what did I do?" Her voice came out in a high squeak and she internally winced. What was wrong with her? She'd never felt this flustered in the Seishi's presence before! Well.not much, anyhow, she amended sheepishly. But.but before Tamahome was always there and then after that Taka was there only now he wasn't and.and Hotohori was sitting there.looking at her as though he'd like to eat her alive and.and.

.and he wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing.

Miaka squeaked as she abruptly and rather belatedly realized this important little fact. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers as they fell from his face to his rather naked, sculpted, and finely-muscled chest (she refused to think about why the sight of it made her so light-headed.), down his torso to where the blankets were bunched around his waist. She couldn't see much beyond that.but she was pretty certain he wasn't wearing a whole lot down there, either.

Between one heartbeat and the next, she was out of the bed and standing on the other side of the room, staring at her Seishi with an expression of scandalized horror. Hotohori, for his part, merely blinked at her-looking somewhat adorably confused-before glancing down at himself where he seemed to realize, for the first time, his disturbing lack of clothes.

Now, the former emperor of Konan was not a man who embarrassed easily, and he most certainly did not blush, but even he could not keep the dark red flush from slowly crawling into his cheeks as he stared down at himself, for a moment forgetting the fact that he had a very good reason for being completely naked. After all, moths didn't exactly go around wearing imperial robes, now did they? And it seemed kind of silly (and just a bit unnatural) to have been given his human body back complete with clothes. After all, humans weren't normally born wearing clothes, and he'd just been reborn in a matter of speaking, so.

Or maybe it was just that Suzaku had a really perverted sense of humor.

But whatever the reason, Hotohori knew that he'd better explain himself (and fast) before Miaka snapped out of her stupor and he wound up missing a few of his teeth. His priestess, after all, was rather notorious for overreacting to little incidents like this.

"M-Miaka, I can explain this, truly," he began, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace.or maybe just to ward off any possible oncoming blows. "I wasn't trying to.I'd never take advantage.that is." He trailed off, brow furrowing as he sought to explain his rather unbelievable story. He supposed he could be grateful that she hadn't started throwing things at him yet.

Miaka didn't seem to be paying attention, he realized with a blink. Rather than him, her gaze was now fixed on the dresser which she was standing beside, and her brow was furrowed in an expression of distress. "Miaka?" he asked cautiously, wondering what had upset her. Aside from himself, of course.

"It's gone," she murmured, almost to herself.

Hotohori blinked again. Gone? What was gone? And then he remembered.the dresser was where she'd put him when he was still the moth; no doubt she was expecting him to still be there, even if he would have been dead by then. He was gratified to know, however, that she cared enough about him, even as a tiny, insignificant insect, to feel saddened that he was missing. Only he wasn't, and he needed to explain that to her. "Miaka, it's all right," he told her soothingly. "You need not worry about the moth anymore."

She turned her gaze back to him, not realizing or not caring about the fact that he shouldn't know what was distressing her when he hadn't even been there. "I kind of liked that moth," she told him sadly. "He was.I dunno. He needed me. I mean, he was just a moth and he's probably dead now, anyway, but." She sighed and shrugged, smiling a little self-consciously. "I suppose you think I'm being silly, huh?"

"Not at all," he assured her warmly. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, careful to keep all his private parts.private, and tied the sheet securely around his waist before standing gracefully to make his way over to her. She was blushing again, he noted, but she didn't seem inclined to wallop him with a hairbrush or anything. That was good, right? A bit emboldened, he allowed his smile to widen as he stated a bit impishly, "I suppose you're wondering why I showed up in your bedroom, in the middle of the night, a bit less than.adequately clothed."

Her blush deepened charmingly. "The thought had crossed my mind." came the somewhat sheepish reply. Then, much more softly, shyly, ".but I am glad to see you, Hotohori. I missed you. I really, really missed you."

His heart leapt and he fought the urge to take her right there and kiss her breathless. And do much more than that. Instead, he closed his eyes and released a long, heartfelt sigh. "As I have missed you," he breathed. "I am so glad to have finally found you again. I've searched and waited for so long."

And this time, she was his. He felt it in his heart. After all, he was here, and Taka obviously wasn't. So although he didn't know what had happened to the other man, he found that he couldn't bring himself to be concerned over his absence. It wasn't that he disliked the former Seishi- they had been brothers in spirit, after all, being tied together by their destiny-but Tamahome had always been his rival, and now.well.perhaps Miaka's eyes were open. Perhaps she could now see what Tamahome's presence had always blinded her to before.

She was staring at the dresser again, or rather, at the floor around the dresser, as though searching for something, and he reached out to cup her chin and gently bring her gaze back to meet his own. "Do not worry," he whispered. "I assure you, your moth is just fine. Alive and well, and grateful for your kindness."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "H-how do you know that?" she demanded. "It was dying, Hotohori."

"Yes. And now it lives again. Because it.I.finally found you."

She blinked at him in confusion, and then, as his words began to fully register, her eyes widened. "Y-you mean.you were.it was you?" At his slow smile and the single nod of his head, she sputtered, "But.but.how could that possibly be true? It's.unbelievable!"

"Not all people are reborn as humans," he told her, smiling softly at her pole-axed expression.

"But.why.why a moth?" she asked. "I mean." She paused, then continued on a bit shyly, "I would have thought you'd choose to be something a little less.plain. Like.a butterfly or a Bird of Paradise or.or a cat or something."

Hotohori smiled softly, his fingers stroking down the side of her face. "Did you know," he began gently, "that in my culture, there is a belief that moths are a symbol of a loved one returning to you?"

Miaka blinked at him. "R-really?"

"Yes," he assured her. "I believe it's rather fitting that, after all the lives I have lived, it should be as a common little moth that I finally found you again. Besides.it never really mattered to me what I was reborn as," he added softly, ".so long as it led me to you."

She looked at him in wonderment. That was about the most un-narcissistic thing she'd ever heard him say. "You.wanted to find me that badly?" she asked softly.

"I have searched a hundred lifetimes," he murmured, reaching out to cup her face in both hands. His eyes glowed with warmth as he gazed down at her dazed face. "I would have searched a hundred more. I would have waited an eternity to be with you.because I belong to you."

Miaka stared up at him, her eyes growing glassy with tears, and with a little sob, she stepped forward, slipping her arms around his waist and burying her face against his chest. He felt the hot tears scald his skin and wrapped his own arms around her small body, holding onto her as tightly as he dared, lowering his face to her hair and fighting back more tears of his own. To have her in his arms again.for her to so willingly be there.it was the greatest gift he could have asked for.

Miaka could hardly believe that she was standing there enveloped in Hotohori's embrace again. It was like a dream. It didn't even bother her that he wasn't wearing much more than a sheet; she just didn't want to let him go, for fear that he might vanish again. She'd known that she missed him-she missed all of her Seishi-but she'd never realized just how much until this moment, now that she finally had him with her again.

What was this feeling in her stomach, this tingling, excited feeling? It was the kind she used to feel with Tamahome when she'd first fallen in love with him, but was it ever this intense? She'd loved Tamahome, and she'd loved Taka, had been heartbroken when she realized he'd abandoned her. She'd even gone so far as to swear to herself to never love anyone that deeply ever again.

But now, as Hotohori murmured her name into her hair, she couldn't help but wonder.

She shyly raised her face to meet Hotohori's gaze, and her breath caught at the sight of strong emotions shining intensely in those golden eyes. He still loved her as much as, if not more than, he ever had, and she was beginning to wonder if maybe she loved him a lot more than she'd ever been willing to admit before. Everything he'd offered her in the past.everything he was offering her now.she was finally free to accept it. And.how could she possibly refuse him again? How could she ever forgive herself, if she broke his heart a second time?

So when he once again placed a hand under her chin to raise her face further to his own, she didn't resist as he lowered his head to hers. She didn't resist as his eyes slipped closed, masking those breathtaking emotions, and she didn't resist when his lips softly covered her own in the gentlest of caresses that quickly intensified into something deep and passionate and hungry. She released a soft sigh into his mouth, melting into him as the strength bled from her legs, allowing him to ravish her lips to his heart's content and returning the kiss with equal fervor.

A long while later, when breathing became a necessity, they eased their kiss to gaze in wonder into each other's eyes, hearts racing erratically as they struggled to gain some semblance of thought. Hotohori pulled her to him again, cradling her head beneath his chin as he pressed soft kisses into her hair. "I love you, Miaka," he murmured. "I love you. I love you."

"I know," she whispered, tightening her hold around his waist. "I love you, too, Hotohori." It was the first time she'd ever been able to admit it. It seemed inconceivable to her that she'd tried so hard to deny it. He was so dear to her, why couldn't she have let herself see it before? She might have spared him-and maybe herself-a lot of pain, she thought guiltily. But Hotohori didn't seem to hold it against her; his response to her soft confession was to hold her even closer, his lips caressing her face and neck, pressing soft kisses to her skin before moving to take her lips again. He really was hungry for her, after having waited for so long to find her again. And she certainly wasn't complaining.

Somehow, they wound up back on her bed, with him leaning over her and smiling down at her tenderly. His hair spilled over his shoulders and caressed her face with satin fingers, and she was reminded suddenly of another time when she'd been in this exact same position, back in Konan, when Tamahome had been under the curse of Kodoku. Only this time, as Hotohori moved to kiss her, she allowed him to do so, pushing all thoughts of Tamahome from her mind as she felt warm lips caress her neck in the softest of kisses.

"Miaka," he murmured, pulling away slowly to gaze down at her seriously. "I want to know.what happened to Tamahome?"

She flinched slightly, dropping her gaze from his, as though ashamed. "H- he left.about six months ago," she replied in almost a whisper, her voice betraying the pain she still felt at her beloved's abandonment. "He moved to another country. I.thought it was only for a little while but.he hasn't come back yet. I.I don't really expect that he will," she finished. "It seems that he's had enough of me." She tried to smile weakly, but it came out as more of a grimace. "So much for destiny, huh?"

Hotohori's sparking eyes clearly told of the fury he felt at the man's betrayal. After everything those two had been through to be together, how could Taka have so callously up and left? It.just didn't make sense to him! "If I could, I would run him though with a sword.again.for what he has done to you," he told her in a low, intense voice. "After everything you have sacrificed.I cannot believe that he would."

Her fingers on his lips stilled his words, and his rage calmed at the soothing smile she gave him. "It's over and done with," she told him. "It's been six months.I've been able to move on, with the help of Yui, and my family. It.still hurts.but I won't die, I know that." Her eyes saddened as she gazed at him. "What hurts the most, I think, is everything that everyone had gone through to help us be together, fighting.dying.all for the sake of destiny. Even Yui in the end.she realized the truth and let herself be devoured, all for us. And he just.blew it off.like it never even mattered." She threw her arms around him suddenly, burying her face in her neck as a sob shook her body. "When you died, Hotohori, I felt my heart break," she wept. "It hurt.so much. And I felt so guilty, because I was never able to repay you for everything you'd ever done for me. And I'd never let myself love you the way you wanted, the way you deserved. And I wasn't there. You needed me and I wasn't there for you! How could you ever forgive me for that?!"

"Miaka," he whispered, holding her tightly as she sobbed into his shoulder, letting go of all the guilt and grief that she's harbored for so long. One slender hand stroked soothingly up and down her back as he murmured comforting words into her hair. "Don't cry, Miaka," he whispered. "Don't feel guilty, don't feel sad. It was never your fault, not any of it. You loved me as much as you were able to, and I am grateful for everything you gave me, even though I always pressed you for more. If I made you feel guilty for not loving me enough, I am so deeply sorry. Perhaps I was an emperor, but I was still just a man; just a selfish, lonely man who wanted to be loved for himself, and that is exactly what you did. How could I not have loved you for that? If I could not give you my love or my empire.my life was the next best thing. I told you.I belong to you. I always have. I always will. That is my destiny."

Her sobs had quieted, and she was staring at him now with a look of wonder in her eyes. Stray tears still sparkled on her lashes and lined her cheeks, and he gently kissed them away before taking her lips in a deep, infinitely tender kiss meant to heal the wounds in both of their hearts.

It was during this beautiful moment that Miaka's older brother decided to throw open her bedroom door with a rather obnoxious bang, and a loud, "Hey, little sis, do you intend to sleep all day?" before he suddenly realized that he was interrupting something.rather private, and stopped dead in his tracks to openly gawk at the spectacle.

The two would-be lovers jumped apart with startled expressions and Miaka hid behind Hotohori, never mind the fact that he was the one without the clothes.

"Uh." Keisuke's gaze drifted back and forth between the two guilty faces, crouched together on the bed, before honing in on Hotohori, eyes narrowing at the tall man's state of undress. "I know you." he muttered. "You.you're that Hotohori guy, right?"

"Uh.yes." Hotohori blinked at him, a bit bemused, not quite certain as to who it was that had barged in on them so rudely.

"Is there.something anyone would care to explain?" Keisuke asked with false sweetness. "I dunno, something along the lines of how and why you're in my sister's bedroom at seven o'clock in the morning wearing nothing but a sheet?!"

"Uh." For once, Hotohori's diplomatic training failed him as he realized that he had no idea how to answer that question. He had the feeling that any answer he gave-the truth or otherwise-was liable to earn him a couple of black eyes or maybe a smashed nose. Heaven help him if anything happened to his beautiful face!

Luckily for him, Miaka (now long-used to Keisuke's hysterics when it came to his baby sister's love life) stepped forward with a take-charge air. "There's a perfectly good explanation for it," she stated primly, folding her arms across her chest in a good imitation of a stuffy teacher. "Hotohori used to be a moth, you see, and he died and then he turned back into himself and he happened to be in my bedroom while doing so." She conveniently left out the fact that she'd brought him there in the first place, and that the only reason he'd changed was because he was there, with her. "So, as moths don't normally go around wearing clothes, what do you expect would happen?" she finished snidely, looking smug at her reasonable justification.

Keisuke, however, looked more confused than reassured, answering his sister's rambling with a rather profound, "Huh?" He wondered if he should head to the nearest phone and call up an asylum to schedule a nice, long vacation for his obviously insane sister. He glanced at Hotohori doubtfully, but the other man merely regarded him with a serene air, looking quite at home standing in the middle of Miaka's bedroom with a pink sheet tied around his waist. Keisuke wondered a bit jealously if he'd ever be able to look that good wrapped up in a pink sheet, then blinked and abruptly shook his head to rid it of the rather disturbing thought.

"I.think I'm sorry I asked," he muttered, scratching his head. "At any rate, you'd better get ready for school; Mom'll throw a fit if you're late again.

"Keisuke." Miaka smiled at him sweetly, although there was a hint of steel in her eyes which made her brother slightly nervous. "Have you forgotten about the fact that it is Sunday and therefore there is no school?"

Keisuke blinked at her, sweatdropping a little as he realized that she was.absolutely right. "Erm.oops?" he offered sheepishly.

Miaka would have lunged at him and cheerfully throttled him on the spot, if not for the fact that Hotohori's arms were once more around her waist. "I take it this is your elder brother?" he murmured into her ear.

"Yeah, the very same," she muttered. "The one with all the common sense of a retarded poodle."

"Hey!" Keisuke looked offended, while Hotohori attempted to hold in a laugh (although he had no idea what a "retarded poodle" actually was). "I don't think you should be talking about me being retarded. I'm not the one having a serious make-out session with a strange man in my bed at seven AM," he growled, glaring at her warningly.

Miaka smirked. This was too easy. "Well, I'd have to say I'm really glad about that, dear brother, or I think I'd have some serious questions to ask about your sexual preferences." she began innocently.

"That's not what I meant!" Keisuke yelled as his face turned bright red.

Miaka dissolved into giggles, leaning weakly against Hotohori, who was watching her with a bit of awe. This was a side to her that he'd never witnessed before, this witty, playful (rather naughty, he thought with a bit of scandalized amusement) bantering that she apparently reserved only for those who knew her best. Oh, sure, she'd teased her Seishi in the past- specifically Tamahome, Tasuki, and Nuriko, and sometimes even Hotohori himself-but despite that there had always been an air of gentleness and respect to her teasing. She'd never out-and-out insulted anybody like that before as she clearly enjoyed doing to her brother. Hotohori found it rather.fascinating.

"You really shouldn't yell like that, Keisuke," Miaka was scolding. "You wouldn't want Mom to come running in here, would you?" Meaning, specifically, that she didn't want Mom to come running in there.

Keisuke snorted as his face began to resume its normal color. "Luckily for you, Mom already left. She had an early meeting for work today and she won't be home until late this evening. I wonder what would have happened if she'd been the one to stumble in here, don't you?"

Miaka blanched at the mere thought, suddenly not so cocky anymore.

Keisuke smirked. "Well, anyway, now that you're both.awake, you might as well have some breakfast. Only.let me do the cooking, all right? You wouldn't want to kill Hotohori on his first visit, would you?" He dodged a hastily-thrown pillow and added with a smirk, "I think I can find something for you to wear, Hotohori, so if you'll please follow me.?"

Hotohori looked at Miaka doubtfully. She gave him a reassuring smile and a nod, to which he shot her a loving smile in return-one that promised later continuation to what had been interrupted; a thought that made her shiver- and followed the other man out the door, listening to mutters of, "Why can't I have a sister who dates normal guys? Ones who come with clothes? Is that too much to ask?" all the way.

"Oh, get over it, Keisuke!" Miaka hollered playfully after him. "You know you're gonna have a blast dressing him up in your coolest outfits, so quit pitching a fit about it!"

There was a moment of silence-during which Hotohori muffled yet another laugh-before Keisuke began muttering again and slamming all the doors in his room.

Miaka flopped back onto her bed and hugged herself tightly as she allowed childish giggles to erupt from her throat. Teasing Keisuke was so much fun sometimes, and she'd shocked Hotohori, she could tell. She supposed she should be embarrassed at allowing the reserved emperor to see that particular side to her, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. Besides, he hadn't seemed to mind her bantering, so why bother trying to be proper? They weren't in Konan anymore. He wasn't an emperor, and she was no longer a priestess. They were just two normal, everyday human beings.who happened to have an extraordinary history together.

She listened to her brother gushing over how "cool" Hotohori looked in whatever outfit he'd dressed him up in, with the other man's honestly blunt, "Yes, I know," and "of course," comments thrown in, and had to grin at the absurdity of the situation. Wait until she took him out to explore the city, it'd probably shock the narcissism right out of him, she thought with a giggle, although doubtful it'd stay gone for long. But that was okay; Hotohori wouldn't be Hotohori without his most endearing quality, after all.

She definitely intended to drag him over to Yui's house, if only to rub her friend's face in the fact that this was what she'd first wanted Miaka to kill, and see, she shouldn't kill moths 'cause one never knew if it was actually a reincarnated Seishi just waiting for his chance to become human again.

Although, considering how Yui felt about her Seishi, she doubted that'd be a good enough argument to convince Yui not to hate moths anymore, anyway.

Miaka yawned and stretched, deciding that breakfast definitely sounded good right about then (and besides, she really wanted to get a look at Hotohori in modern street clothes. I mean, wow), and lazily got to her feet to prepare for the day.

There was a faint crash and a yell from Keisuke as something breakable was apparently dropped, and she rolled her eyes and grinned, deciding that it was high time to rescue poor Hotohori from her brother's maniacal clutches, before Keisuke permanently scarred the poor man. "Don't worry, Hotohori! I'll save you!" she called playfully, barging into her brother's room, where she came to a screeching halt and stared, open-mouthed, at a very transformed Hotohori.

Tight black jeans that fit like a glove and emphasized muscular calves and trim waist.loose-fitting, silk shirt the color of emeralds, unbuttoned halfway down to expose that marvelous chest.even his bare feet looked sexy! Miaka thought she might actually be getting vapors.

"So." Keisuke's voice radiated smug satisfaction. "How's he look?"

Words could not describe.

But the slightly-loopy grin that spread slowly across her features, and the dreamy approval radiating from her ultra-sparkly eyes, were quite eloquent enough.

Miaka in full-out fangirl-mode was a rather frightening thing to witness.

"Oh, yeah." Keisuke ran a hand through his hair arrogantly. "I tell ya, I should go into business."

Apparently, Hotohori's narcissism was contagious.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, let us now adjourn to the grand dining hall." Otherwise known as the kitchen. ".for a feast fit for.well.an emperor!" Meaning, scrambled eggs and bacon added to the usual routine of cold cereal and milk.

Keisuke, clearly satisfied with a job well-done, practically strutted out of the room toward the kitchen, while a long-suffering Miaka merely sighed and shook her head as she started after him. A warm, heavy weight suddenly draped itself gently around her shoulders, and she blinked in surprise and then smiled up into Hotohori's eyes. "So.I look okay then?" he asked with pretend modesty.

She rolled her eyes at him and poked him in the ribs playfully. "You know you do," she replied with a giggle. He shot her an unrepentant grin in response, then cupped her chin with his free hand and tilted her face upward to receive his tender kiss.which ended up lasting far longer than he'd first planned, but that was certainly okay with him. He really liked kissing Miaka, and now that he had her full and heartfelt permission to do so, he intended to make the most of it, in as many ways as possible. Now that he had found her again, he intended to never, ever let her go.

And Miaka certainly had no objections about that.

~~End~

Wai!! Wasn't that great? Once again. Not mine. Stormlight's fic!! She's on my favorites list if you want to email her and tell her how awesome she is!

*makes shooing motions with hands* Go! Now! At the very least review so she can come and see what people thought!!