Hi, just wrote this piece this weekend. It's an AU one-shot, set in the Love from Venus setting (i.e. modern day) with a few minor tweaks. I don't like this piece as much as my other fics, but I guess that's 'cause there's more Falcon/Ayame in this than Rouge/Ryoma. XD It was meant to be Rouge/Ryoma mainly, but Falcon and Ayame just wrote themselves in.
Anyway, a plug for Love from Venus (which can be found on my journal), because I don't have much info about it on FFN:

Love from Venus
Sales representative Ryoma Iwakura's life careens off-course when a business deal brings him to a hostess bar, and into the company of hostess and strip club dancer Rouge. A spark of attraction ignites between them, one Ryoma tries to deny. Despite his reservations, he embarks on a scandalous friendship with Rouge that questions his plans for the future.

I love my fan-novels. :P Power Stone does not belong to me.

The Downsides of Eavesdropping

"This is the first time I've been to your apartment, Falcon." Ayame adjusts the straps of her purse and brushes imaginary dust off her cocktail dress. It is no special occasion that has her waiting beside the blond, watching as he fishes a key from his wallet. "Will we be bothering your roommate?"

There is going to be a party two hours from now, hosted by a mutual friend. With plenty time to kill, Falcon has invited her back to his home, since King Albert's is just a stone's throw from where he lives. Drinks and dancing and hours of the blond swirl around in her mind. It is a good night. Ayame schools her features into one of pleasant neutrality, because it will not do to show how excited she is over the prospect of spending time with him. After all, their friendship has hesitated at the bridge that takes them past flirting.

"Well, Ryoma said that he's gonna be out with his girlfriend." Falcon steps into the apartment and holds the door open for her. His lips quirk. "I guess that means we'll have the place all to ourselves."

"I trust that you won't subject me to anything questionable." Ayame fights her light blush down, entering the unit carefully. She scans over the simple living room and various articles of furniture, daring to venture further for a more comprehensive view. There are some doors shut; she wonders which leads to the room Falcon resides in.

"Oh, c'mon, Ayame. You know I'm a good man." He grins easily and motions her towards the kitchen. "Want a drink?"

"Sure. Just some cold water will do, thanks." She sets her bag down, shortly before following Falcon into the adjacent room. "Who do you think will be attending the All Saints' Eve party?"

Falcon shrugs and reaches for a glass. "No freakin' idea."

"Let's get you out of these clothes, Ryoma. I can't wait."

The voice is female, and distinctly familiar. Falcon and she freeze as one. Ayame is in such surprise that all she is able to move are her eyes. Falcon is staring at her out of the corners of his eyes.

"Right. I thought Loverboy said they were gonna be out," Falcon mutters, setting the glass on the counter with a sharp clink.

"Do they do this often?" Ayame asks edgily. She does not want to listen to any more of their lovers' talk. As good as her relationship with Rouge is, the latter's sex life is not something she wants firsthand details about.

"You're indecent, Rouge. I can manage on my own."

"Mm. That's so big." There is a hint of a smile in Rouge's tone.

Ayame feels the shame that Rouge never does. Her face is hot and she dislikes that images are putting themselves into her head.

"You've seen it plenty of times before."

"I'd like to see you use it."

"N-not right now."

To the side, Falcon grits his teeth and drops ice cubes into the glass.

Ayame shifts uncomfortably on her feet. She flicks her gaze towards her host, then at the living room, which looks far more welcoming than when she first set foot in. Water sloshes noisily into the glass from a jug Falcon has taken from the fridge. "Um, I think we should give them some privacy."

"Yeah." Falcon hands her the glass and their fingers touch when she accepts it. It is a curious meld of heat and cold at the same time. Their eyes meet; the blond's are so very blue, even under the fluorescent kitchen lamp. She stares at them a little longer, then at his lips when they twitch in a smile. "What's a pretty girl like you doing, staring at me?" he teases.

She loses her composure for heartbeats and manages to save herself when she turns the tables on him. "What's a handsome guy like you doing, staring back at me?"

"Touché." Falcon raises his eyebrows; she grins.

It is quiet in the next room. Ayame relaxes by a fraction. She takes a sip of water after Falcon's hand leaves hers. For a brief moment, she wonders what it would be like if she and Falcon were in Rouge's and Ryoma's position instead. Warmth creeps across her cheeks. That might be pushing her chances, but she knows she's allowed to hope.

"To answer your previous question - no, they don't do this often." Falcon leans back against the counter and folds his arms across his chest. "Mostly it happens when I'm not around, or when Ryoma goes to her place for the weekend." He shrugs. "They probably thought we wouldn't be home at this time."

Ayame is halfway through a nod when their voices start again.


"How's it?" the woman in the neighbouring room purrs.

A grunt. "Tight."

The walls are unbelievably thin. Ayame is barely conscious of the fact as her mental processes shut down. The expression on Falcon's face would have been amusing had she not just suffered the exact same treatment.

Without pausing to think, she grabs his hand and drags him out to the living room, where her body meets the sofa with a loud thump. Ice cubes clink in her glass. Cool water trickles onto her fingers and aquamarine dress, but that's the least of her concerns at this point.

Falcon sinks heavily down beside her. He rests his head on the back of the couch and drags a hand over his face. "I really didn't need that."

"Neither did I." Ayame winces and downs a draught of her drink, before placing the glass on the coffee table. There are things that can be done to rid those images, and she does not plan on wasting her chances. The blond turns his gaze on her when she curls her arm around his. Ayame smiles. "I figured that you could use some company, oh handsome man."

Trills race along her spine when he angles his head towards her and sweeps his attention over her face. They have not kissed, not yet. It is something she hopes for every time she's with him.

"Nah, I'm not as handsome as you're pretty," Falcon clucks his tongue and winks at her.

She blushes, turns away. An exchange like this is far from uncommon between them, and she questions his sincerity. Yet the blond's words send flutters through her stomach. "Flattery is going to get you nowhere, Falcon."

"It's getting me somewhere, all right." He frees his arm from hers and curls it around her shoulders, bringing her close to him. Falcon is larger and stronger than she is; he exudes an aura of protection whenever she's with him. She flicks her gaze up, to his. "Like here."

The blond dips his face breathlessly close to hers. She stares at him, eyes wide, focusing her vision so he doesn't remain a blur. "Here?" she whispers.

"Yup." Warm lips slide over hers once, moist, their texture exquisite.

Amazement tickles the back of her mind, that she hasn't already fainted. It is not appropriate that she asks what he means by the kiss, so when Falcon pulls away with a smirk, she grins at him and presses a kiss to his lips instead. That is fair play. The smile on his face widens.

"Two can play at that game," he tells her. Falcon turns his body to hers and pins her to the couch by her arms. She forgets to draw breath when his lips touch the shell of her ear. "But I can play it better than you, Ayame."

There is hardly time for Ayame to contemplate just what he means, because he has captured her lips with his in a bold, languid kiss. She sits and merely receives, trying to think. That failing, she returns his gesture, mimicking the way he is moving against her. It makes her feel cherished and special and sexy at the same time.

"Where are we headed first?" Ryoma's voice breaks through the haze in her head. And shortly afterwards, "Falcon? What're you doing?"

Falcon stills and pulls slowly away from her. Ayame isn't sure if she wants him at that distance, because she likes the magic he has been working on her. But she is all too aware of two other sets of eyes that are boring into the side of her head. Heat surges to her cheeks. The tint is probably doing little to hide her smudged lipstick and kiss-swollen lips.

"What did I look like I was doing?" Ayame feels the irritation in his voice mirrored in herself. Falcon looks at their friends and does a double-take.

Reluctantly, Ayame glances over the couch. The gaping countenances of Rouge and Ryoma stare back at her. What anchors her attention, however, are their strange outfits - Rouge is clothed in the skimpy outfit of a belly dancer, a mere bra and puffy purple pants that dip way below her hips, while Ryoma is dressed to the nines in layers of samurai garments. There are even swords by his side.

"Weren't the two of you just screwing around minutes ago?" Falcon accuses, sticking his head forward with a frown.

"Huh?" Blank faces precede an exchanged glance. Ryoma grimaces. "What do you mean by that?"

"You know." Falcon scrutinizes them. "All that stuff about being 'tight'. I was gonna grill you on the spot - Ayame's my guest and she didn't have to hear you guys having sex!"

Ayame squirms in her seat as the pair focuses on her again. Rouge waves. She smiles back, but it isn't a convincing one.

"Oh." Ryoma flushes. "S-She pulled too hard."

Ayame loses her grin. That is way, way too much information. She is unable to look either of them in the eye. Falcon makes a low gurgle in his throat.

Rouge elbows her boyfriend in the ribs. "Oh for goodness's sake, Ryoma. Don't make things worse for poor Ayame." She turns back to Ayame and the blond. "We weren't having sex. I was helping Ryoma with his samurai loincloth. Who knew those things were so tricky to put on?"

And in a much lower tone, clearly meant for Ryoma's ears, "I think you fill it very nicely."

Ayame hopes she's misheard it. The deep crimson on his face proves otherwise. She gulps.

Falcon isn't quite convinced. "You were talking about sizes."

"All I said was 'big'," Rouge muses after a pause. Amusement ghosts over her face. "I was talking about his sword!" She motions towards the black and red scabbards by Ryoma's waist. "What did you guys think we were talking about?"

"I'm more concerned about the fact that they were even listening to us," Ryoma mutters, sending a dark glance at his roommate.

The blond makes another strangled noise in his throat. Ayame is only too glad for the cleaner images Rouge is injecting into her mind.

"What're you guys doing in those outfits, anyway?" she asks, before Falcon has a chance to respond.

Rouge produces a crystal ball. "It's Halloween, remember? We're going Trick-or-treating."

"At your age?" Falcon questions incredulously. Rouge frowns at him.

"I don't see why we can't dress up, at least." She slings her arm around Ryoma's, sashaying over to the door. Ayame watches as they leave, a little envious of their relationship. They stop at the entrance of the apartment. "Don't you think our costumes suit us?"

"They sure do." Falcon has been ogling Rouge and Ayame knows it. Ryoma is giving him a warning stare. She jabs his side to bring his gaze back.

"Your business lies with me tonight, Falcon," she threatens mildly.

"Hey, I know that. How could you doubt me, Ayame?" He gives her a charming smile that smoothes her ruffled feathers. It is annoying, because she hasn't chosen to forgive him yet.

"Oh, Ayame." Rouge pauses as they step through the doorway. "Remember to retouch your makeup before you leave."

She blushes when Rouge winks at her. Embarrassment floods her mind, that she has completely forgotten about her ruined lipstick and how telling it is. It's Falcon's fault. And all he is looking at is Rouge. She turns her back on him.

The door clicks shut. Ayame counts the seconds of silence. Falcon isn't making a move, and she tells herself she shouldn't have believed in those few moments of enchantment. Maybe she shouldn't even be here with him. Maybe she should leave.

A large hand rests on her forearm the moment she turns to look for her purse. Falcon leans in. She knows, because there's a telling warmth at her back.

"Don't be angry with me, Ayame." He strokes her arm steadily and presses his lips to her nape. A shiver darts over her skin. "You're every bit as deserving of my attention as Rouge is, and more."

"I've told you that flattery gets you nowhere, Falcon." Ayame tries very hard to ignore the way he's curling himself around her, promising warmth and protection. Her heart is in the way of that, however.

"It does get me somewhere." His lips feather beneath her earlobe. She quivers and teeters on the line of reason. "Don't you agree?"

Since when has Falcon got so good at tipping her scales? When she fails to reply, he scoops her up and deposits her in his lap, eyebrows raised. She blushes at their proximity.

"Why don't we give the party a miss tonight? I'll show you what a good host I can be." He flashes a grin, but Ayame thinks she sees a flicker of uncertainty behind his baby blues. It strikes her that Falcon is only human, that he, too, fears rejection.

The innuendo in his suggestion aggravates her embarrassment. She smiles, wonders what Falcon is really like beneath his smugness and confidence. "Maybe when we've got to know each other better," she concedes.

"Good idea." He reaches up and toys with a lock of her hair. "I'm starting to think that what I say doesn't do you justice, Ayame. You're a beautiful, smart girl."

Ayame tries to suppress the roll of her eyes and a missed heartbeat, and loses. She swats at Falcon's arm instead. "You're such a flirt, Edward Falcon."

Falcon grins. "That's why you like me."

Deep in her heart, Ayame feels inclined to agree.