Public Relations
By Gabi-hime
Part Three of Three
By Gabi-hime
(pinkfluffynet@yahoo.com)
Spoilers: The end of Angelic Layer TV.
Pairing: Misaki/Oujirou, implied Shuuko/Icchan
Rating: PG-13 for implied silliness XD
Synopsis: A humor/romance piece in three parts. Misaki thought that she knew Oujirou pretty well, until she found out about his doujinshi habit, that is. Part three of three. The exciting conclusion to this comical epic. Oh, I kill me XD.
Bonus: You may have noticed that I actually did a cover for the naughty doujinshi. No, it's probably not naughty enough, but I thought it was cute XD You can also see it on my profile page here at ff.net until my server gets fixed :/
Chapter 3
The Exciting Finale!
Misaki was feeling very light-headed and everything around her seemed to be going in slow motion, including Icchan's wiggling. She felt herself lose balance but there was nothing she could do to stop herself, and as she pitched sideways she knew that she was soon to get a very up close and personal view of the floor. That is until long, slender fingers wrapped firmly around her shoulders from behind, set her back on her feet and then led her slowly backwards to sit on a low couch.
"You should probably lean forward and put your head between your knees. That should help with the faintness," came a familiar and totally unreadable voice that shook her out of her faint, especially once she realized he had covered her smaller hand with his own.
"Oujirou-san!" she exclaimed without really meaning to. His random appearances always elicited the same response from her, as if she were checking to make sure that it was indeed him and she wasn't hallucinating, "What are you doing here?"
He raised an eyebrow and looked vaguely amused, "Shouldn't I be asking you that, Misaki-chan? This is my home, after all."
Misaki swallowed. Right. She was currently sitting in the parlor of Oujirou's house. That meant his bedroom was only . . . and then there was the matter of the doujinshi which was currently burning a hole in her lap as she was clinging to her small overnight bag like it was some sort of security blanket.
Icchan's spooky face suddenly appeared disembodied between them on the couch, "Oh, don't you act like you had no idea she was coming, otoutou-chan. Ogata says he asked you specifically to tell Misaki to prepared for a trip to Kobe this evening. I want to know why you didn't tell her. We almost missed the train because of that delay and Ogata's terrible driving!"
Misaki almost shrieked at this bizarre display of Icchan's supernatural abilities until she realized he was just crouched behind the couch, peeping over so only his head was visible.
"But Chief, there's nothing wrong with my driving!" came Ogata's attempt to defend himself, but Icchan would have nothing of it.
"Baatsu game! Go ride up and down in the elevator for fifteen minutes with this irate wolverine!" and with that Icchan managed to produce a specimen of that almost universally bad tempered North American predator in a small wicker cage which rattled and shook. He foisted it upon Ogata and sent him out the door, calling, "Don't forget to let it out it it's cage either, Ogata!"
There was a strangled affirmative from Ogata from down the hall punctuated by several short snarling barks and the ding of the elevator. This apparently satisfied Icchan because he turned his attention back to his younger brother. Not for the first time Misaki was secretly relieved that Icchan never tried any Baatsu games on anyone other than Ogata, who seemed to have more lives than a cat.
Oujirou looked winningly innocent against his brother's charges of foul play and answered cheerfully, "I don't know. It must have slipped my mind."
"Humph," Icchan stood up, crossing his arms after pushing his glasses back up his nose, "Well you just make sure that you don't do anything that might upset the champion while we're here. She's got an important trial tomorrow and then we're going to go to an amusement park and have ice cream. I don't want you to ruin the mood of our Super Fun Fun Adventure to Kobe."
"Super Fun Fun Adventure to Kobe?" Oujirou asked a little incredulously, as if didn't believe the outlandish title in badly mangled English his brother had given their outing.
"Yes, Super Fun Fun Adventure to Kobe," Icchan put his hands square on his hips and looked as if he had another retort for his younger step-brother when Oujirou suddenly interrupted him.
"Good evening, Okaa-san. How was the library?"
Misaki and Icchan turned in unison and saw that while he and Oujirou had been embroiled in their quasi-confrontation the lady of the house had quietly entered and taken off her shoes. She was in the midst of unwinding a scarf from around a large floppy hat when Oujirou spoke to her. She turned pleasantly to answer her son, a serene smile on her face and Misaki was rocked by her appearance. Yes, her hair was darker, a black high-lighted with indigo, and the curls were a little looser, but Oujirou's mother was a dead ringer for Misaki's own mother, even down to the large, gentle eyes and the soft expression.
"It was like it always is, Ou-chan. A little hectic but wonderful, just the same," even as she answered her son she noticed the other occupants of the room and looked pleasantly surprised, "Oh my, oh my, and who is this?"
Icchan looked as if all the air had been let out of him at once and he wiggled over to his step-mother and flailed about worriedly, "Mama, don't you remember? I told you last week that I'd be bringing the champion over for dinner this evening."
Oujirou's mother paused thoughtfully with a finger to her lips and was still for several moments as if deep in thought before putting her hand behind her head and laughing pleasantly, "Oh my, that was this evening?"
"Oh don't tell me, mama," Icchan moaned as if the world we're coming to an end, collapsing on his knees and looking quite teary.
"I'm sorry, Ichirou-san. I forgot," she smiled with a nameless joy that made Misaki wonder if anyone were actually home behind those large luminous eyes.
"It's all right, Okaa-san, I remembered. The pasta is started and the rolls are in the oven," Oujirou responded as if this were quite routine for him. He didn't seem perturbed at all.
"Oh, Ou-chan you're a lifesaver. What would I do without you?" she fluttered over to the couch and gave him an unembarrassed hug, "Don't worry about anything else. I'll finish the dinner. Thank you so much for starting it!"
Misaki half expected little pink hearts to appear over Oujirou's mother's head, so contagious was her pleasant demeanor. Misaki even managed to forget the dreaded bundle on her lap for a scant few seconds.
"Yes, Ou-chan, what would she do without you?" Icchan harassed and then struck a pose that was both cute and frightening, but nominally frightening, since it was Icchan doing the posing, "And how many times do I have to tell you, mama? It's Icchan nyororo," he cried, pointing at his chipmunk cheeks proudly.
Everyone, including Misaki, pointedly ignored this display, which on any other day she would've accepted as perfectly normal Icchan. Today however, with all it's compounded stress and weirdness, she felt that if she watched too closely (which she would've had she glanced in his direction, since Icchan displays were like a morbidly fascinating train wreck) it might have just driven her over the edge.
Oujirou, a champion at ignoring his older brother for both fun and profit, folded his free hand over his lap before turning to his mother, "Everything for dinner has been started except the salad and I would've started that except we didn't have lettuce or cucumbers."
"And exactly why didn't you go out and get them yourself?" demanded Icchan suspiciously, suddenly behind the three of them again, apparently a little miffed at being ignored.
"I didn't realize until I had started the pasta and I couldn't leave it unattended," Oujirou smiled blandly, unwilling to rise to Icchan's bait.
Icchan planted his hands on his hips and scrutinized his brother, but Oujirou gave no tells. For one split second Misaki had the strong impression that Oujirou would be an excellent poker player.
"Oh my, well, we must have salad with the pasta or there won't be enough on the table. Ichirou-san, will you go down to the market and buy some greens and carrots for the salad while I stay and finish the dinner?"
Icchan cast one last strong look at Oujirou and muttered, "Remember, I had my eye on you," before turning to his step-mother all smiles, "Of course, mama. Icchan will be back in a few minutes, nyororo."
He dashed out the door without a second glance behind him, apparently of the opinion that the faster he got going, the faster he'd be back. From the hallway Misaki heard the distinct ding of the elevator followed by a muffled shriek as Icchan apparently encountered Ogata and the irate wolverine who were still serving out punishment in the elevator. Once again, the three of them pointedly ignored the altercation in the hallway even as the sound faded as the elevator descended.
After it was quite silent again Oujirou's mother smiled at the two of them again and then looked startled, "Oh my, where are my manners? I'm Mihara Miyoko and I'm very pleased to meet you," Miyoko bowed gracefully to Misaki who responded by bowing no less than three times.
"I'm Suzuhara Misaki," she squeaked, "The pleasure is all mine."
"This is my girlfriend, okaa-san," Oujirou said kindly, squeezing Misaki's hand in an attempt to calm her a bit.
Misaki blushed a healthy shade of rose at this honest declaration and looked at her lap only to see her little pink piffle princess overnight bag, complete with scandalous doujinshi somewhere deep inside. She blushed an even deeper red and expected Miyoko to giggle or ruffle her hair in a condescending adult fashion, which is what most people did when informed of her clandestine relationship with Oujirou.
Instead, Miyoko leaned very close to her and examined her seriously for a few moments and then leaned back and declared, "She's the cutest girl I've ever seen. You've chosen well, Ou-chan."
Misaki's eyes almost rolled back into her head. Apparently Oujirou's mother was perfectly fine with the fact that he was dating a junior high school girl. But then, perhaps she simply didn't notice. Maybe she thought that Misaki's was just really short for her age.
"Thank you, okaa-san," Oujirou seemed somehow very validated by his mother's opinion, but this didn't stop him from pressing her gently, "Okaa-san, where's the dry cleaning?"
Her eyes went wide again and she seemed to almost jump as she raised one delicate hand to her face, "I completely forgot to pick it up. Papa-san will be cranky if he comes home and he doesn't have any suits. He has a big business meeting tomorrow. Oh no, what shall I do? I still need to finish the dinner and Papa-san will be home soon." She was apparently very distressed by this because she began to pace with an expression on her face not unlike a lost sheep.
Oujirou stood up and curled a comforting hand around his mother's shoulder, "Don't worry okaa-san. I'll watch the dinner. If you hurry you should be home before Otou-san gets back."
Miyoko looked at her son with such sparkles in her eyes that Misaki felt that they most certainly were in a shoujo manga.
"Oh thank you, Ou-chan!" she leaned over and gave her son a kiss on the forehead before grabbing her scarf and hat and lacing up her boots with one hand, "I'll be back before you know it. Make sure to watch the pasta. You know that Papa-san doesn't like it burned."
And with that she was out the door before Misaki could open her mouth. Oujirou stood looking at the door for some moments, hands clasped loosely behind his back, before finally turning around. As he turned, the light from the table lamp caught his hair and brought out the beautiful deep green highlights. His eyes seemed enormous, great deep blue pools, radiant and soft at the same time. His words, when they came, were very simple, yet very appropriate.
"Hello, Misaki."
Misaki swallowed hard.
Misaki was alone. In the house. With Oujirou.
Misaki. Was. Alone. In the house. With. Oujirou.
Misaki. Was. Alone. With. Oujirou.
Alone.
With Oujirou.
Misaki's brain over-loaded and she did what any other self-respecting junior high school girl would do when placed in such a situation.
She ran away without explanation to the bathroom.
Or at least she would have, if she had known where the bathroom was. As it was, she got halfway to the hallway before turning back nervously as she shifted from foot to foot, "Ano, Oujirou-san, where is the bathroom?"
He smiled in a very non-threatening manner (which, as it happened, Misaki found very threatening at this moment and time) and then answered, "Second door to the left."
Misaki bolted down the hallway and hung a sharp left, positively flinging herself into the sanctity of the bathroom, where she could at least recover in peace.
It was then that she realized that what she was sitting on did not feel like tile at all. It was soft and cushy and felt rather like a pillow. Misaki looked down and saw that it was indeed a pillow with Wizard lovingly stitched into it in full color. She was sitting on Wizard's face. Misaki made a small strangled sound and threw herself off of the pillow as if it might have some sort of disease, earning herself a carpet burn on the leg for her trouble. That little hurt caused her to momentarily close her eyes and when she opened them up again she came to a startling realization.
The room was all navy with cream accents and blinds. There was a neat shelf against the wall that seemed to hold mostly manga and tactical and strategic texts. Beside this was a small mahogany trophy cabinet with several small gold trophies, a large silver trophy, and a medium sized bronze. Leaning against the trophy case was a very familiar black courier's bag with the sleek lines of the portable layer peeping out of it. In the corner, behind the desk with its large bag of what was presumably fanmail were several large cardboard cartons, all neatly labeled. Like Bluebeard's wife, Misaki felt inexplicably drawn to them. Well, if she was in the lion's den, she might as well keep going forward. She crept along the floor quietly, all the way over to the corner (even though she had to go perilously close to the bed – whose comforter was very soft and fleecy she found out quite by accident when her leg brushed up against it). The neat lines on the boxes that were so tightly taped up were so startling that Misaki's mouth fell open and she felt compelled to read them out loud.
"Oujirou and Hatako. Oujirou and Kaede. Oujirou and Ringo. Oujirou and Sai. Oujirou and Ichirou."
She paused as she got to the bottom box which seemed to sport the most tape. The label on this box was harder to read as it was not only written with a different kind of pen but it was also curiously wavery (as opposed to the very neat lettering on all the other boxes). After a long moment of study and contemplation, Misaki finally managed to decipher it.
"Oujirou and Shuu?"
"I meant my left."
Misaki turned, eyes wide, hands gripping her bag tightly, "Ou-ou-oujirou-san!"
He was leaning casually up against the door frame with his arms crossed and an amused expression on his face.
"And before you ask, I'm here because this is my bedroom."
Misaki opened her mouth and then shut it. She didn't really have any sort of feasible explanation for why she was sitting in the corner looking through his things. There was really no reason to even try. Still, as Tamayo had earlier imparted, the best way to get an answer to a question is to ask it.
"Ano, Oujirou-san, what's in these boxes?"
Oujirou seemed to consider his words for moment before answering, "Those are all the doujinshi that I have no desire to read. I said that I thought it was good for the fans if I bought them. I never said that I thought it was necessary for me to read all of them," he raised an eyebrow and looked at the boxes in an appraising fashion, "And I really have no desire to read a doujinshi where Hatako and I go to a haunted hot springs."
Misaki studied the bag in her lap thoughtfully before asking, "Where are all the doujinshi with . . ." and this word was very new for her, "us?"
He casually walked over to the shelf, hands in his pockets, "Right here."
Misaki slowly stood up and went to look at the books on the shelf after taking a very deep breath. The top shelf was a line of doujinshi of variable sizes neatly labeled with a divider that declared them "Oujirou and Misaki." Well, there it was then. There was the unbroken line of naughty doujinshi featuring . . . the two of them. She swallowed hard. It was now or never.
"Oujirou-san?" her voice trilled oddly and she struggled to control it.
"Mmm?" He turned and the light caught his hair again.
Before she had time to second guess herself she dug into her little pink bag and pulled out the little plastic wrapped book that had previously burned her hand like fire.
"Oujirou-san-you-forgot-this-at-the-house-and-I-brought-it-back-to-you-I-promise-I-didn't-look-at-it-because-I'd-never-do-such-a-thing-and-I'm-sorry-I-came-into-your-room-it-was-an-accident-and-I-didn't-mean-it-and-I-hope-you'll-forgive-me!"
Misaki expelled so much of her breath in that non-stop explosion of apology that she felt faint and began to wobble back and forth. Oujirou put a steadying hand on her shoulder and squeezed it even as he casually took the book from her.
"Misaki-chan, it's all right. Take a breath."
Misaki did as she was told and took in a long shaky breath. Once assured of her good health, Oujirou turned and reshelved his errant publication on the second shelf from the top, which Misaki noted was labeled "H Doujinshi." She took a long, hard look at the shelf and realized that every book on that shelf was still quite immaculate in its plastic wrapping.
"Ou-ou," she gulped, "Oujirou-san? You don't read the books on that shelf?"
He turned and looked at her curiously, one eyebrow raised, "Of course not. I'd never read them without your permission. To do otherwise would be . . . impolite."
Misaki let out a breath that she didn't even know she'd been holding and felt as if she would melt into the floor.
"Of course, I do intend to read them someday, but rest assured, I'll ask your permission first."
After a long day of near misses, Misaki finally gave into her impulse and fainted dead away.
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