Author: Auditory Eden

Rating: K- K+

Warnings: Let's language, no kissing, no sex, no anything, really.

Notes: The title comes from a song by Lee Seung-Chul which I really like (called "Propose", in case you didn't know). Actually, that's a translation of the title, which is in Korean. The song had nothing to do with the fic. I just thought the title would fit. I really like the chorus. Look it up.


They didn't remember it actually starting, but one day, they both sit back and realize they have a routine.

At least once a week, usually after Kimagure Rock (not that Ren knew this, of course), Kyōko walked to the supermarket near Ren's apartment. She bought the ingredients for a dinner meal, a breakfast, and what would become two lunches.

Then she would head to his place, let herself in with the key he'd given her via Yashiro and Kotonami (because god only knew what would happen if Tsuruga Ren were seen handing Kyōko the key to anything), and she'd start preparing dinner. About five minutes from the end of the cooking time, Ren would arrive, set the table, and change from work clothes, into faded comfy jeans and sweatshirts that showed quite clearly that Ren, too, had a human side. Then she'd call him to dinner, still wearing the frilled pink apron he's been given as a gag by Yashiro.

The actual meal differed every time. They did occasionally have the same thing a few times, but mostly Kyōko was in charge of food, and she liked to shake things up. The only thing that never changed was the quality, and the quantity. It was always very good, and there was always a lot of it. She claimed this was so he'd have real food to eat on the days she couldn't, or simply didn't, cook for him.

They'd eat, and talk about work, the budding romance of Yashiro and Kanae, how Kyōko's foster parents were doing and what her studies were like. Ren found himself laughing a lot during these times, and Kyōko caught herself thinking that this was what her naïve self had wanted with Shō.

After dinner, both of them would retreat to the kitchen. Kyōko would pack up the leftovers in Tupperware containers he didn't know he had, and he'd do the dishes. Because Kyōko firmly believed each dish should be properly plated and she always made sure to use exactly the proper equipment when it was available, there were always plenty of dishes for him to wash. While he cleaned, she would often start coffee, and then she'd begin to prep for breakfast the next day. When that was done, Ren usually had a few new dishes to wash and put away, and she began making their bento for the next afternoon. She prepared one for herself, one for Ren, and one for Yashiro, making sure Ren's had slightly more food than either hers or the manager's. He needed it more, she reflected. If only he'd eat the way Otou-san did.

At around ten-thirty, all food for the next twenty-four hours was made, all cleanup done, and she'd yawn and head off to the spare bedroom to take a bath and get changed for bed.

She kept some clothes and pajamas there now. There was a set of drawers, a mirror, a bed (not as large as Ren's, but just as luxurious), and a few other, more decorative pieces of furniture. The shelves by the window, usually bare but for a few books, had acquired items of a more Kyōko-like nature. She always made sure the vase on the nightstand had fresh flowers, and her own preferred shampoo and conditioner now sat side-by-side with Ren's in the only bathroom.

In a way, it was like she was slowly moving in, he mused. The "guest bedroom" was now Kyōko's room. He might as well hang a sign. Her hand could also be seen in the formerly utterly stark main rooms of his apartment. Yashiro had laughed a bit when he saw Kyōko's decorating touch—one wall of the living room was now a bright, cheerful blue, and all the windows had new curtains. Despite her spending only one night a week in it, the apartment had slowly begun to change from being "Ren's" to "Ren's and Kyōko's".

Usually while Kyōko was bathing, he'd turn on the television and watch things. Often he'd pause to study an appearance of her—he'd watch an episode of Dark Moon on re-run, or Box-R, or even smile at the still-running Kyurara commercial.

When she returned, they'd put on a movie, or turn off the TV, and just sit and talk. By eleven thirty, Kyōko was always out and down for the count, so Ren would carry her into her room and tuck her in, whispering goodnight.

The next day, they would rise and dress, Ren showering while Kyōko put breakfast on the table. They ate, Yashiro arrived, Kyōko distributed lunches, and everyone went their separate ways,

Whenever Ren watched her flitting around his kitchen, falling asleep on his couch, he smiled a little and waited for the day that he'd finally marry her.


Parting Comments: The end sucks. I know it. Please don't kill me?

I think this is my first SB fanfic. I may be wrong but I know it is my first for this site. I love SB, and I love finding ways to prove that Ren and Kyōko are obviously going to get together. Sort of like proving that Ichigo is meant to be with Rukia (Bleachism).

I had a few issues with the tense here. I started in present, and fell into past. Urgh. I would like to offer my thanks to buduica, whose fiction, "Roots", was the inspiration for this one. Actually, really more the kick I needed to finally write this out, since I've had the idea for a while.

Hugs and Kisses,