A/N: Wow. I'm really spewing a lot of these 100 Theme Challenges out. I hope you guys aren't bored stiff with them. I am working on the newest chapter of Switched III but I'm not having much luck with it. Major writer's block.

Which brings me to another topic. Living Without You and Remembering. Those stories I liked...back last August. I very much doubt that I'll finish it. Right now I just want to throw Switched III also in the trash can, but I won't. But you guys tell me. Which story should I delete? Living Without You or Remembering? I will delete one, but you guys can choose which one.

Right, onto yet another topic of this pathetically long author's note. This story is very important. The story-line itself is pretty cliche and boring but what's really important is that I wrote my very first 2/5. I figured that since it's canon now, I'd give it a shot, no matter how much more I like...other pairings. :D So I hope my first 2/5 wasn't completely ridiculous and dumb.

Disclaimer: I don't own C:KND, nor do I probably own the story plot either. That was probably done already. ;)

Words. That's all they were. Just little words. Little words, not long words like penultimate or ubiquitous or supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Just five little words spoken to a friend. How hard is that?

Apparently very hard. He gets tongue tied around her very often. With all his jokes he tries to cover it up. She's the only reason he started to tell those corny jokes. To cover up his stuttering when he first met her.

It doesn't matter that she doesn't especially like them. It gave him something to say that first moment they met. Now it's become habit. He could pronounce antidisestablishmentarianism but when he was around her he couldn't prounounce five of the simplest words in the known English language. The whole mess made him want to tear his hair out by its roots. Every time he left her presence he made up his mind to tell the very next time he saw her. But it always ended up interrupted or garbled together in some unintelligable sentence. He was past his youth. He no longer had trouble just speaking to her. In fact they did it quite a lot. They both enjoyed the others presence. Or at least he hoped she enjoyed his. Needless to say, though, no matter how he tried to shove the words out of his mouth, his tongue always dried up, his throat felt scratchy and his stomach started bubbling like he had injested a thousand of Grandmother Stuffum's meat pies.

And throughout almost 3 years he never told her.

But he had to tell her some day. Beacuse it was the greatist injustice in the entire world that she didn't know what was right in front of her. Because of course she didn't know just by looking. Not like some girls did anyway. But that is one of the things that was cool about her.

The stress of the whole thing was so much that a section of his bedroom (or airplane hanger) floor was obviously more worn then the rest by his obsessive pacing.

The boy paused in his pacing and made up his mind. The entire thing was making him go slowly mad. Keeping something for almost 3 years was long enough. The very next time he saw her he'd tell her. No matter what.

No. That'd never work. He'd back out like he had a million times before. There was only one solution to his current dilemma.

He'd just have to go seek her out and tell her once and for all before he chickened out.

With that thought stuck in his head, the boy left his room to look for the girl that had unknowingly driven him insane the past 2, almost 3, years.

He found her long before he had hoped. She was in the kitchen, preparing a glass of milk for herself. Immediately she looked up, startled, and waved at him.

The boy swallowed fiercely, hoping to moisten his parched throat. She looked at him again, cocking her head. "Was there something you wanted?"

He almost nodded. Almost. He couldn't do it.

As that thought passed his mind, the boy shook it away. He would do it.


She looked startled. She had every right to be. He didn't even know what he had just said.

He cleared his throat. A horribly scratchy noise that filled the entire kitchen.

"Do you want some milk? Or water?"

She looked alarmed now.

He took a breath and shook his head.

She nodded and started past him with her glass of milk.

He looked at her as she got to the doorway. He'd never have another chance like this.

In a rush he shoved the words that had been sitting in his mind from the moment he had met her up in moon base.

"I think you're really pretty."

It was said in such a rush that at first he feared she wouldn't understand. He doubted he could say it again.

At first surprise filled her dark brown face, but then it softened. A smile graced her face and he let out a breath he'd known he had been holding.

"Thank you, Numbuh 2."

A/N: Well, all in all as my first 2/5 fic, I don't mind it so much. Don't expect a sudden truck load of 2/5's after this though. It's still no where near my favorite pairing.

Also I've been thinking. Do you guys think I should just put all my 100TC oneshots into one story. Like a series of oneshots in the same story with chapters as the oneshots?