Disclaimer: The same as everyone else's. I don't own Witch Hunter Robin. Someone else does. Please consider this fic free publicity for the show and also for Luscious Jackson who wrote the opening quote. A great group and "Fever In, Fever Out" is a CD worth checking out. Plug...plug...

A/N: This is a weird fic. OOC, I'm sure, and as always, I apologize for proofing and characterization errors. But overall, I feel okay with this fic. It isn't weird weird, just weird of how it came about. I was moody and grumpy because I am having serious Abarai Renji (of Bleach) withdrawals. Unrequited animated lust is a bizarro thing, I tell you. How did my obsession with Renji end up with me obsessing over Robin and Amon getting a little steamy? I have no clue, but I'm in the mood to write a semi-steamy fic and they popped into my head and have decided to stay there until purged. I suppose I should write a fic with plot and action and deep thought, but nah. I figured that's what "The Disappearing Life" and "Sacrifice" and "The Burning Time" are for. Stories I love, btw, but right now, I just want a fic that gets them into no more trouble than the inside of heated car will allow. Okay, they won't get that far. This is fanfictionnet and they don't allow that kind of fic but I think I can let them close enough to stay within the ratings rules and still get Amon a little messed up because messed up Amon is kind of fun.

Scene is set between Ep 24 Rent and Ep 25 Redemption Day. Robin has Amon cornered and while she trusts his heart, she's decided to let her pushier self come out of hiding and demand some answers and some payback from our favorite taciturn Hunter. Hope the readers enjoy reading because I surely enjoyed writing it.

Respectfully Puaena

Under Your Skin

Lie down in the fire with me
I burn everything frequently
If it don't feel good
when you first get in
wait 'til it gets under your skin
"Under Your Skin" by Luscious Jackson

"If Sakaki is staying at my office," Nagira was telling Amon as they walked to Amon's car in Harry's parking lot. "Where will Robin be staying tonight?"

Amon scowled so deeply he nearly gave himself a headache. His brother had that effect on him and whenever Nagira took on that sing-song way to speaking, Amon knew that he was being mocked. "Piss off, nii-san," he grumbled at his older brother.

Nagira's chuckling burned the warning shot with an efficiency reminiscent of Robin's recent torching of two well-regarded hunters. To Amon, it seemed like even Nagira's ghost of Elvis haircut was snickering at him.

Rather than give himself over to the migraine that seemed inevitable, Amon decided to let it go. "Just get Sakaki to your place," Amon told him in his patented monotone voice.

"Little brother, is that an order?" the older man queried with a squint that did little to hide the glint of humor.

Amon sighed with gritted teeth. "No, it is a request. Please take Sakaki to your place."

The brown haired man with the circa 1970s white coat grinned. "Thanks, little bro."

"For what?" Amon was nearly afraid of his brother's answer.

Nagira unfolded his arms and clapped a hand on Amon's shoulders. "For making an effort to remember your manners."

The migraine that was never too far away was beginning to threaten again and Amon practiced breathing exercises designed to reduce stress. Turning away from his brother, Amon called out, "Robin!"

Robin, who was talking with Doujima and Master Kobari, looked up in confusion, her features wordlessly asking, "We have to go now?"

At her expression, Amon felt guilt cut into him. In spite of her quiet and shy ways, Robin enjoyed being with people, especially Kobari and, to Amon's mild dismay, the cheeky and sneaky Doujima. For a moment or two, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. Maybe he should let her stay with Doujima for the night instead of doing a stakeout of the Factory with him.

As she came towards him, though, his doubt diminished as he caught glimpse of a small, secretive smile playing upon her lips. "Shall we go?" he asked. At her nod, he opened the door for her and she slid inside with a brief good night to Nagira before Amon closed the door.

As he went to the other side, Amon caught a glimpse of his brother's raised brow and half-smirk. "When did you start saying things like Shall we go?" Nagira questioned, the mirth lacing the words with an innuendo so thick that Amon nearly choked.

Amon didn't bother answering the question. Instead, he repeated, "Piss off, Nagira."

As he watched his brother drive off into the night, Nagira shook his head in half-wonderment. "Oh boy, little brother, you have got it bad."

"Who has it bad?" a female voice asked.

"As if you have to ask, Yurika-chan," he quipped at the young woman, not fooled by her faux innocent voice.

She laughed. "Makes you wonder who is the hunter and who is the hunted?"

"Indeed. I almost feel sorry for him." He allowed himself another laugh before looking back to the entrance of Harry's where Michael and Sakaki were talking. "We'd better get that cub of yours to the den. I have to call my assistant to let her know he'll be there. Hana'll chew him up for breakfast, but..." Nagira studied the young, smooth face of Sakaki Haruto and grinned wolfishly. "...but it'll be good for him."

Being in the car was her favorite time with him.

Amon had never been one to talk a lot, but when he was in the car, he gave an impression of being talkative and that was enough for Robin. Because when they were in his car, there was something about its intimate confines that allowed them both to relax. She found it was the only real time that he would talk to her, instead of at her.

As they settled in for the night, she found herself studying his profile as he flicked on the computer display. She noticed that he seemed to be overly interested in the contents of the screen and she sighed, awkwardly trying to think of something to say.

"How is Touko?" she asked quietly and then nearly bit her tongue. Why did I ask that question, of all questions? she wondered nervously.

His head snapped up and he turned to her, his dark eyes wide. "Why would you think I know anything about Touko's condition?" he asked sharply.

Robin absorbed the shock rather than flinch. "Because," she began, cautiously, "you and she...you were..." She stumbled, not sure how to phrase what she was trying to say while he was glaring at her. "Weren't you and she...uhm...dating?"

Most of the time, Robin was sure that Amon's eyes were between black and dark brown, but when his thoughts were intense, they seemed to become a silver-gray, much like now. "I'm sorry, Amon," she told him and glanced away from him. "I didn't mean to pry. I just thought you would know how she was."

After a weighted pause, she heard him say, "From what I hear, she is doing better." He released a heavy breath and leaned back against his seat. "You don't need to apologize, Robin. You knew that Touko and I had a relationship of a sort but we were not dating. We were..." The sentence drifted into nothing and Amon let the silence answer the rest.

Being a honest girl-woman, Robin acknowledged that she had felt a prickling of jealousy towards Touko when she had seen the couple walking in the rain. It was the kind of possessive jealousy that caught a person unaware and feeling guilty after. The feeling, though, had been easy for Robin to mute. As young and idealistic as she was, Robin still had a pragmatic view of life. Amon was a man of twenty-five and Touko was a beautiful woman. Their relationship was what it was and now it wasn't. Robin could not help but feel compassion for Touko.

"I liked her," Robin admitted. "She was nice to me. I hope that she'll be okay."

"I hope so too." And with that, they fell into a comfortable silence.

After an hour passed, Amon moved to take off his coat, finally feeling relaxed. When Robin looked over at him, he said, "It's getting warm. We may as well get comfortable."

Taking that as permission, Robin smiled and gratefully took off the heavy coat and threw it in the back seat. He grinned surreptitiously at what passed for Robin's version of enthusiasm. Then he remembered something. He reached over, his forearm unavoidably brushing her knees and opened the glove compartment. From inside the compartment, he pulled out a wrapped bar. "Here," he offered. "You can have it."

She took the parcel from him. "Chocolate," she said on a breath of pure sensual delight. "Belgian chocolate."

"Not exactly Belgian. Close though. I got it in the Netherlands."

"Even better," she said with a gleam in her jade eyes and popped a piece of dark confection in her mouth. Her eyes closed, the delicate lashes fanning the top plane of her ivory cheekbones and she sighed in bliss.

Not quite in pain, but in something akin to willing torture, Amon bit the inside of his cheek and turned away. The hand that cupped his jaw hid his grimace as his elbow against the car window kept him braced upright. This is my punishment for not letting her stay with Doujima, he thought silently, despairingly.

He'd forgotten how seductive this quiet time was like with her. A time in which he could say nothing and not feel he was being rude or lonely. They'd talk a little, sleep a little, eat a little. He was loathed to admit it to anyone but he was fascinated with the way she ate. He put food in his mouth because he needed sustenance. It was an reflexive act of survival for him, but when she ate something that she particularly enjoyed, it was like most people made love. She released little sighs and moans as her tongue curled around the morsel in her mouth.

"Oh...shit," he whispered. The thought of something in Robin's mouth and moaning and making love were dangerous thoughts and he wondered why the hell he let himself go there.

I'm in trouble here. Maybe I should have shot her after all.

"What did you say?" Robin inquired, her rosebud mouth frowning in concern.

He gave her a sideways glance and chuckled shortly as he caught sight of a speck of chocolate caught in the fold of a corner of her lips. As he stared at the chocolate, he could see the frown deepen and nervously, the small tip of a pink tongue peeked out to investigate the point of his study.

He turned away from her and rubbed his forehead. "I have to go for a moment," he told her and reached for the door handle. "I'll be back."

"But Amon?"

"I'll be right back. I just need to stretch my legs."

"I'll come with..."

"No!" he interrupted briskly. Instead of shrinking from his sharp tone, her mouth pursed obstinately. He'd forgotten that side of her too. She could be sweet as an angel but then be as stubborn as a devil. To placate her and let him have his moment of escape, he lied, "There are some thing a man doesn't like to share. Taking a leak is one of them."

"Nagira doesn't seem to care," she shared, her expression audaciously guileless and the damn chocolate still stuck to her lips. "And why are the urinals in the men's room all in a..."

"Robin," he gritted out. "I'm not Nagira."

"Yes, I noticed," she mumbled and he was left to wonder if that was a compliment or not.

"Damn," he grumbled and he shut the car door with a fraction more force than intended. "She can be so pushy."

He hoped that she had not heard that last part.

If she had, she did not let on because her mind was on other things. The only problem was that she didn't know what those other things were.

Robin was excited and flustered and prickly and bothered. She wanted something and she wasn't sure what it was and it wasn't helping that Amon was ignoring her. For the past half hour, he'd had the binoculars practically attached to his eyes. She kept wondering if his left arm would get tired, but at the half-hour plus 1 minute mark, he was still going strong.

Feeling slightly put out, she asked, "Why did decide not to shoot me?"

"You said you trusted my heart," he quipped dryly.

She had long since removed her gloves and tapped a fingernail on the stick shift. "What do you think I meant?" The question was an honest one. She'd been wondering herself. She was thinking that maybe she was crazy to be so trusting. He had, after all, pointed a gun at her.

"It meant you trusted that I would not shoot you," he clarified with easy practicality, still not removing the binoculars from his eyes.

She narrowed her eyes on him and entertained the thought of singing his gloves. That would make him put the binoculars down, but it would not have been nice or prudent given his opinion of her Craft. Instead of setting his gloves on fire, she questioned, "What is your Craft?"

When she had first come to STN-J, she'd asked him. He'd been so cold, she'd never ventured in that line of questioning again, but she was feeling miffed and devious and since he had pointed a gun at her because he considered her a witch, she felt that she was not out of line to ask him about his own witch lineage.

She had expected him to glare at her and then go back to ignoring her. She had not expected him to attempt to answer her.

"I can see in the dark."

"All hunters can see in the dark," she said on an aggrieved sigh. "It is part of our training."

He glanced sideways at her and grinned slightly at her rare show of pouting. "Okay, then," he began, his tone conciliatory. "My Craft is to fly."

Robin was not certain if he was playing with her. Her arms folded and she leaned back against her door. "You can fly? How?"

He moved the dreaded binoculars away from his eyes and flipped them onto the dashboard. "Levitate, I suppose is a better way to call it," he explained blandly. "Very fast. It seems like flying. My mind tells my body where it needs to be and then suddenly I'm there." He turned his attention to her. "I'm surprised you had not guessed already."

"I did not guess," she confessed. "Does anyone else know?"

"It isn't something that I want to share," he replied, an implied warning in his words. "The Orbo pendant, when I wear it, suppresses my ability most of the time, except if I am in great duress." He gave her a wry grin. "Haven't you ever wondered how I could be somewhere that I wasn't expected to be?"

"I just thought you were being mysterious," she told him, her expression transparently innocent.

His wry grin turned gentle and the silver lights in his eyes flared with humor. "You thought I was skulking about."

She tipped her head and raised a brow in mock study. "You don't seem like a person who would skulk."

"How about stalk?" he challenged.

"No, not really."

The half smile morphed into a weary and grim frown. "Then you don't know me very well, Robin."

The atmosphere in the car changed so abruptly that Robin felt unmoored. She angled her body to face him and saw his profile wore the same expression of shadowed misery that he'd had when he had come to the studio and said, "If you use your Craft, you can turn me to ashes before I shoot." He had wanted her to burn him to cinders before he had done anything to hurt her. If she had done it, he would have been free of the obligation that had been handed to him and she would be free of one more hunter.

She had known that, but was unable to bring herself to do it. Just as he had been able to finish the hunt of her.

They were a messed up pair, as Nagira had once told her when he let talk about Amon until he was bored silly.

Not stopping to think of why she was doing it or the consequences of her actions, she reached up to curve a small hand around his jaw. She felt the stubble that grew between the skin of his jaw and ear and instinctively caressed it with her thumb. Gently, but insistently, she turned his face to hers. "Amon, did you try to shoot me in the warehouse?"

It was a question that had haunted her. She knew the answer, but she needed to hear it from him.

The almond shaped eyes did not meet her own as he turned to let his mouth touch the skin of her palm. "I was supposed to shoot you. I shot near you, around you." The eyes closed tightly. "I kept hoping that you would not move to the left or the right. I kept thinking Please don't move." His eyes opened and caught hers. "And you didn't. Not that any of this should be of consolation to either of us." He released a rueful, painful laugh. "Everywhere I turn, I am told what I am supposed to do with you."

She leaned closer to him. "What do you want to do with me, Amon?"

Another uncomfortable laugh was emitted. "That is a loaded question, Robin. One that should not be asked."

"But I have," she told him, a hint of steel in her soft voice. "And I want an answer. You owe me an answer."

"Pushy, aren't we?" he grumbled lightly.

"Persistent," she corrected.

The tense expression relaxed. "Strange girl, you are. One moment, so innocent and wide eyed. The next moment, so worldly and wise. I never know how I am supposed to treat you. Never know how to react. Or how to behave. Easier to keep my distance and give myself time to figure out what I am supposed to do." A hand came up and toyed with the leather binding in her hair.

"Is that what you want?" she whispered. "To keep your distance?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Why?" She noticed that he had leaned closer until their foreheads were nearly touching.

"Because I..." He hesitated and his brows drew together as if trying to put the words together. He took a breath and began. "You remember the case with Eiko-san?"

"Yes. You treated me like a child." After all the months that passed, it bothered her still when she recalled the way that Karasuma and Amon had treated her.

He chuckled. "I apologize for that. If it is of any consolation, I did let you lead me around like I was on a leash."

A smug, little smile formed upon her mouth. "Yes, it is a consolation," she agreed. More than a consolation, she thought, feeling absurdly and retroactively pleased.

"Sweet, quiet little Robin showed her bossy side," he reminisced. "And you got the job done. It was hard to think of you as a child after that. If anything, it was beginning of the end for myself and Touko."

Her breath drew in sharply and the small pleasure that she was feeling was suspended. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't, Robin. As perceptive as you are, you are young," he remarked, his hand tugging at the leather, slowly, insistently loosening the bindings. "I found that I had enjoyed your company. I liked being with you. As a partner, as a person. You were no longer Robin-the-replacement. You were just Robin and that was a problem. It still is."

He moved away from her just as the leather loosened completely and the honey colored silk spilled along her shoulder. "You should wear it down more," he advised, his voice betraying a hint of sadness. "It is beautiful when its down. You are beautiful."

Robin had never thought of herself as beautiful, but as she studied his intent expression, for the first time in her life, she thought that maybe she could be. In a smooth motion, she tugged the leather that held the other half of her hair spilled down and as it came loose, she reveled in the hiss of breath he released.

His body faced hers and as if in a trance, he removed the glove from his right hand and raised the hand to touch the hair. "It is cool to the touch, silky and soft," he observed, the fingers testing the texture and rubbing the strands together.

In answer, she slid her left hand into his hair and combed her fingers through. She had expected his hair, heavy and thick, to be coarse, but she was surprised at how soft it was, like the fur of a cat. He leaned into her hand, unconsciously she was sure, almost as if he really was a cat. Without thinking of how his answer may change her, she asked him again, "What do you want to do with me, Amon?"

"I was hoping that you'd forgotten that question." Those piercing eyes clouded with uncertainty. "I don't know, Robin," he admitted hoarsely. "I know that I want everything and I know that it is wrong. You are too..."

"...young," she cut in and leaned toward him. "I know I'm young, but Amon, I know what I want."

"Do you?" he asked, the hand that was in her hair now curving around her back to bring her closer. "Do you know what a man wants? Do you know what a man dreams of in the middle of a meeting when he's supposed to be paying attention to his boss? Do you know what he is thinking and wanting when he has a woman he desires fitted this close to him?" He drew her tighter to him. "I'm not Sakaki or Michael, Robin! I don't want to snuggle on a ferris wheel and give you teddy bears from the amusement park and be satisfied." He brought her closer and laid his forehead to hers. "When you wear a halter top that bares the delicate bones of your spine, I want to kiss every single indention until I get to your neck and then I want to start over again. When you get chocolate stuck on your lips, I want to lick it off until you let me inside your mouth to see what else I can find. When I barge into your room to wake you up after you've overslept for the fifth day in a row and I find you naked, I want to crawl into that bed with you to find out what your skin will feel like next to mine."

Her eyes blazed and her cheeks flushed. "When did you barge into my room?"

"When you were sick," he admitted ruefully. "Touko tried to tell me that she had left you sleeping because you weren't feeling well, but I was pissed off with you, so I went up to the apartment to wake you up and you were..." He let the rest trail off.

Robin gulped. "How much did you see?"

"You must have been running a fever, because you kicked the covers off. You sleep like the dead because you never stirred."

"How much did you see?" she repeated, the blushing spreading from her cheeks down her chin and throat, her breathing growing erratic.

"Enough to want what I should not want," he confided in chagrin. "It is not right for me to want those things from you."

She shivered in fear of the unknown and excitement of the same. "But you do."

Amon had no problem with lying if the need arose and this was one of those times when the need was arising and he knew the best course of action would be to unrepentantly lie.

Yet, he didn't grab at the chance. Part of him figured she would see through it and the other part merely acknowledged that he was doomed and since he was becoming comfortable with being brutally honest with himself, he conceded that he was enjoying the present death of his shaky sense of morality, especially when she was eye-ing his mouth as if it it were a cup of fine creme brulee.

"Yes, Robin. I want you." He shouldn't be indulging her, but he consoled himself in the fact that admitting the obvious was the easy part. If she knew the rest, she might think he was crazy or worse, a closet romantic.

He should have known that she would not let him off so easily. "Why do you want me?"

"I thought I just told you," he evaded.

"Any woman could fulfill those needs," she pointed out in that wise woman-precocious girl voice of hers. "Touko is a beautiful woman who wanted to be with you, but you turned away from her. I may have been sheltered, Amon, but I'm not naive. I'm nowhere near as beautiful as Touko. So why me?"

You're wrong, Robin, he thought silently. Beauty, real beauty, has its own measure. He didn't tell her that. He had a feeling she would set his eyebrows on fire and say he was being patronizing if he said what he was thinking so he released a sigh and told the truth as far as he had it figured out.

"When I am with you, I feel like I might have a chance," he explained. "I fear the awakening of my witch blood. All I have ever seen is how it makes people go crazy. I don't want that to happen to me but it seems inevitable. Or it did. I don't know."

He took off his other glove and then curved both hands around the soft, warm skin of her face. "I'm not a good man, Robin," he resumed, not certain where this was taking him. She began to shake her head but he stopped her by brushing his lips against her mouth. He nearly laughed at the shocked O that formed upon her rosebud lips. "Don't disagree with me when I'm trying to be revealing," he teased her. "This won't happen very often."

"Will you kiss me again if I agree?" she asked.

A trap of epic proportions, he knew, but he nodded anyway, swayed by the breathless excitement in her voice . "If you let me finish, I'll kiss you." She smiled eagerly, much the same way she had when he had given her the chocolate bar. He chuckled before continuing. "I'm not a good man. I've killed and trapped and carted off witches, young and old. I followed the rules and didn't question the morals of them. I know the hypocrisy of my actions and I'm pretty damned sure I should be punished for them. I don't deserve a right to peace of mind. I've never wanted it before and I've never thought it would be possible. I never knew that I craved it. Until you came along. Then all things became possible."

In spite of their bargain to kiss her after he'd finishing explaining himself, he found himself impatient and rubbed his lips against hers once more. "Are you done?" she half-moaned.

"Not quite," he said with a laugh. "I haven't admitted to being afraid."

"Can you hurry up and admit it?"

"Pushy," he taunted.

"Persistent," she clarified, her impossibly green eyes narrowing. "And you talk too much. I never knew you could talk so much."

He couldn't help himself. He pulled back and began to laugh wholeheartedly. "I'm telling you that you hold my life in your hands. I pour my inner demons out to you and you tell me I talk too much. Isn't this what women want?"

"I do," she complained on a small whimper. "It's just that...well...Can't we...I mean, I want..." Frustrated at her inability to get a coherent sentence together, she grabbed his hair as she lifted herself onto her knees. "Can't we get back to the part where you want to crawl in bed with me? Or at least, how you want to kiss me?"

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. With a defeated groan, he declared as he fit his mouth to hers, "Oh, Robin, you're going to send me straight to hell."

If this was hell, Robin thought as she felt the firmness of his lips against hers, then she was all for going to hell no matter what the sisters at the convent had told her.

She didn't know anything about kissing but it appeared to be of little consequence to him because he seemed to know everything about kissing. "Enjoy," he whispered against her lower lip when she got impatient. "Think of it like eating a bowl of your favorite ice cream. I've seen you eat ice cream, Robin. Treat me like that. Lick and suckle and savor."

And so she did. When he nibbled at her lower lip, she ran the tip of her tongue on his upper lip. When he slid his tongue into her to test the sharpness of her front teeth, she took the opportunity to tickle the underside of said tongue with her own. And when he angled his head to allow his mouth a better fit, Robin nearly fainted with joy as he teased her lips open so he could run his tongue along the sensitive roof of her mouth.

Time slowed down. Or was it that it sped up? Robin was no longer sure. Her senses had been taken over by him.

Taste. Oh, my, but she was growing addicted to the taste of his mouth. A hint of coffee and burnt creme and sweet, sweet muscle and exquisitely soft skin.

Smell. He smelled like sport soap and aftershave and the musk of a male that she could never have known existed.

Touch. He was hard, muscled along his throat and shoulders but soft in the skin behind his ears and underneath his eyes. She wanted to feel more of him, discover more from him, if only he'd let her.

Hearing. She could hear the odd kind of music that their lips were making as the skin clung, popped and released, moved one way and then the other, and how a sigh and a groan could make its conversation without words.

Sight. From slitted eyes, she could see the way his skin, faintly scarred from his many battles and yet perfect in smoothly poreless state, glistened with a fine sheen. She could see how her hair had begun to merge into his. How his eyes opened just a little to watch her as she watched him. She could see that he was as lost in this world they had made together as she was and how he didn't seem to care, any more than she, at how dangerous it might be.

She felt him lean down and reach under the seat. Suddenly, she felt him move back and he was pulling her over to straddle him. She felt his fingers, long and nimble, unbuttton the top of blouse with a deftness that betrayed his mental practice of the act. When he opened her collar to reveal more of her throat, his lips moved down, pressing small kisses, long kisses,open mouthed kisses along her jawline and down her throat. When he found a particularly vulnerable spot, the spot where the collar and throat meet, he bit down and suckled at the skin.

"Oh," she gasped and convulsively tangled her fingers in his hair, her body squirming, not knowing for certain what it wanted but knowing that it wanted nevertheless.

His hands moved down to cup her bottom and then ran up until they curved around her breasts. "Oh, damn, Robin," he said plaintively, burying his face in her hair. "You don't wear a bra, do you?"

She arched into his caress and answered, "No. They are uncomfortable and--" She gasped again as he rolled a fabric covered nipple between a thumb and forefinger. She tried to figure out what the rest of her sentence was going to be. "--I thought I was--oh no--I was small--didn't need one."

She thought that he laughed then but couldn't be sure because her thinking was deteriorating at a rapid pace.

The same affliction appeared to have taken over with him because Amon, cautious, rule-abiding, let's-go-over-the-plan-one-more-time Amon, was pulling her blouse and jumper down off her shoulders until her torso was bared to him and his mouth was fastening itself on the tip of her breast and she let out a small scream as her sight ceased working and all became a blur.

"Do you want to go knock on the window?" Doujima asked Nagira in between sips of her soda. They had been sitting behind the black Audi for approximately 10 minutes and wondering aloud just how much thicker the steam on the windows could get. "I think you should go," she suggested. "He is your brother."

"Hai," Nagira agreed and took a bite of a sweet potato chip that Robin was so fond of eating. "He is my brother, but he might shoot me. He is less likely to shoot you."

"Less likely is the key phrase," she mused. "I would rather it be unlikely to shoot and neither one of us can guarantee that. So, if he must shoot someone, it should be you. He'll feel more guilty because you are his brother."

Nagira raised a brow at the pretty spy. "You obviously don't know Amon as well as you think," he reprimanded with a twisted grin as he reached for the handle to open the door. "Okay, then, I'll be the brave one. If I die, tell Hana that I went to my death thinking of all the nagging that I'll be missing and that I died happy."

Doujima Yurika snorted a giggle. "You are too funny. Now go get your brother before that car starts bouncing and Robin inadvertently sets off the next apocalypse."

"Okay, okay," Nagira acquiesced, feeling beleaguered and a bit embarrassed to be interrupting his little brother. After all, it was about time the boy got some action. Maybe it would loosen up that constipated look he always wore.

He just wished if it had to be Robin, that she was a little older. "Sheesh," Nagira croaked. "And he says that I don't think things through."

Ambling up to the car, he heard a little moan. Definitely feminine and he had to resist the urge to turn around and go back to Doujima. With a deep breath suspended, he knocked on the steam enshrouded window.

He heard a shriek and then rustling of clothes and then a disgusted Amon grumbling, "Dammit, it's Nagira."

"Nagira! No, don't open the window yet," Nagira heard Robin protest. "I need to--"

"Robin, it's too late." The window rolled down a fraction and Nagira was faced with the molten silver eyes of his little brother. "What are you doing here?" he seethed.

Nagira, having been experienced with irate boyfriends and murderous husbands due to his unearned reputation as a ladies's man, leaned on the roof of the car and looked down at his brother and tried not to laugh as he spied the beginnings of a hickey that was appearing at the bottom of his throat. "Ahem," he coughed with a grin. "I think it is not what I am doing here but rather, what are YOU doing?" The grin widened. "Aren't you supposed to be on stakeout?"

"Nagira," Amon said with a warning in his tone. "I'm not in the mood right now."

As tempting as it was to continue to needle Amon, Nagira got a glimpse of a very embarrassed Robin and he refrained. "Amon," he said with genuine concern, "step out for a moment."

Amon nodded, leaned over to Robin and then got out of the car. It didn't take a genius to observe the disheveled hair, the swollen lips and the open collar of Amon's shirt to know what had happened. "Amon, maybe Robin should stay with Doujima tonight. You and I can finish the stakeout. Let things cool a bit."

The younger brother hesitated and then nodded. "Yeah, you're right."

Nagira had not expected the easy capitulation but when he saw Amon's expression as he opened the door for Robin and walked her to Doujima's car, he wondered how much he really knew about his brother after all. Or at least, he wondered if he knew anything about THIS version of his brother.

He laughed soundlessly as he contemplated that thought and he pulled the cigarette pack from his coat. When Amon came to him, he offered him one even though he knew that Amon rarely smoked. Not surprised, he watched as Amon took one out and light up as they both watched the red car back up and turn around.

The two men took a couple of inhales before Amon spoke up. "It's wrong, Nagira, I know it is."

Nagira sighed in empathy. "Wrong? I don't know. She's different. Normal rules don't seem to apply to her. But, Amon, she's still fifteen. That's jailbait to you and me. Sweet and succulent, but still jailbait."

Amon dragged a hand through his hair. "I know, but--"

"But nothing," Nagira inserted, hating that he had to be the voice of reason to a brother who he had often wished would take a break from reason. "You've been getting your chain jerked left and right, Amon. You've been all over the place and back again. That girl cares about you. Even if you are a jerk, she cares about you. You have to think clear. I don't care how much temptation she throws at you, you have to get back to your hard ass self and wait."

"Easy for you to say," Amon snickered and then sobered. "I don't regret it. I should but I don't. It felt good to finally hold her like I wanted to. It felt good to let go and hope even if it was for a little while."

Nagira watched as the younger man leaned against the door of his fancy car and take another inhale of the cigarette. Instead of looking in the direction of the Factory, Amon looked into the row of trees that sheltered them and for the first time in what had seemed like forever, Nagira could see a flicker of optimism in Amon's eyes.

"She's gotten under your skin."

He had expected Amon to tell him to piss off like he normally did, but all he said was, "Yeah."

"You might get burned." Amon never would have wanted it his brother to worry, but Nagira felt it all the same.

"Yeah, but when you've been out in the cold, the heat feels good."

"I guess so." He clapped his hand on his brother's shoulder and said, "Well, at least we answered the question of where Robin is staying tonight."

Amon groaned but said with little heat and a lot of understanding, "Piss off, Nagira."