[AN: This is for my dear Jaina-poo. Heart heart. Sorry this took so long, folks. And the formatting's all weird... hnnn... D'ya hate me? ;_; -Kiri]
 
 

The sun streamed in through the window, ribbons of light washing over her face.

Her blankets were wrapped around her in a little cocoon, keeping the heat in. Her eyes were open, gazing at the ceiling.

And she was glowing.

A kiss! It hadn’t been a dream! He had kissed her!

She rolled over onto her stomach and pressed her face into the pillow. She contemplated squealing in delight and shrieking with joy, but then realized she couldn’t breathe with a pillow in her face. She flipped back over again, every part of her feeling beautiful and alive and happy.

It had just been one solitary kiss, and then the darkness had closed around them like a curtain. They had broken apart breathlessly, desperately shy, hearts pounding. He had seen her to her room, then pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Sleep had not come easily, but when it had, it had been sweet.

A kiss!

She snuggled her pillow tightly and shut her eyes just for one more minute. Just a minute more and she would get up, make breakfast, start the dishes…

There was a gentle knock on the door. “Meryl?” Who was that? Knives? Strange…

“I’ll be up in a minute…” she mumbled into her pillow.

“It’s already ten.”

She sat straight up. “What?” Apparently her musings after she had retired had taken more out of her than previously assumed.

“I made you breakfast.”

Even stranger. Maybe she had gone to sleep in the real world and woken up in a dream world. “Um… all right! I’ll be there in a second…”

She stood up a little shakily, fumbling for her clean clothes. Her uniforms were on their last legs. Maybe today she would get some clothes. Showing up at the Society naked or in rags was unlikely to be dress code.

Pulling on her skirt and blouse and sweater, forgetting about her tights for once, she started towards the door, pushing it open once she was decent. Knives was standing there, tall and imposing, his face very solemn, his hair cut very neatly.

“Your hair looks nice,” she said, rubbing an eye with a fist. “Sorry I slept so long… I guess… I just didn’t fall asleep quickly last night.”

He nodded, his face stoic, but his eyes strange. She didn’t recognize what she saw in them.

“You shouldn’t let your breakfast get cold,” he said, with the same unknown emotion in his voice as in his eyes.

She gave him a small smile and moved toward the kitchen, her bare feet chilly on the cold floor. “Thank you, Knives-san. I appreciate this.”

He had followed her into the room. “Of course. It’s time that someone takes all the workload off your shoulders anyway.”

“Ah– I don’t… I mean…” She tripped over her own words in rapid succession. “I mean, you don’t have to go through any trouble for me. You’re still recovering, you know, so–” And she froze as he started taking off his shirt.

She stared in something between horror and fascination, before she managed to rip her eyes away from him and stare, pink, at the food steaming on the table. “Knives-san, I–”

“See?” he said, and she could hear him rustling fabric. “You can look,” and there was a trace of the old irony in his voice. “Not even scars left.”

She turned her eyes, shyly at first, but then blinked in surprise when she saw that his words were true. Nothing remained of the bullet wounds in his arms. “How…?”

He shrugged, and his muscles rippled obligingly under his smooth, pale skin. “I’ve always been a good healer.”

“But you had that other scar…”

“That was… deeper.” He turned slightly, and started pulling on his shirt again. Blushing again, she sat down in the chair in front of the food.

She picked up her fork and stabbed her egg. The yellow bled agreeably over the white. Knives had cooked it perfectly. Despite the fact she had never seen his cooking skills before, it stood to reason that it would be as excellent as any of his other skills. Too bad his brother hadn’t inherited the same gene.

His brother! She stuffed a piece of egg into her mouth to keep from smiling.

He seated himself, fully clothes, into the chair beside her. “You seem awfully cheerful this morning. All that sleep you got?”

She glanced over at him, smiled, and swallowed. “Must be.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Hmm… I believe a human is misleading me.”

“We can’t help it,” she replied, amused, “and I’m a woman as well. There’s just no hope for me at all.”

He actually chuckled. “It does seem to be an inherently female trait.”

She gave him another smile, trying to keep it full, then looked back down to her plate. This scenario was… strange. A little discomfiting, but mostly strange. Knives joking about lying? Laughing easily?

“Mm,” she murmured, noncommittally. “This is really good. When did you learn to cook?”

He paused for a long moment. “When Legato was a child. He had to eat, so I had to cook for him.”

She raised her eyes, a little curious. “You took care of him?” Another bite.

“Yes.” His voice was cold. “He was terribly injured in a plant accident when he was a child. It blew off his arm.”

She was startled. “How horrible.” For some reason, she couldn’t reconcile the concept of the crazed killer and this boy of whom Knives spoke. “But when we met him, he had both his arms… Was it mechanical?”

Knives grimaced, an almost frightening look. “No. I replaced it.”

She could tell he did not want her to ask questions. “I see.” A bite of bread. “But at least you learned a life skill! Cooking is very important.”

“I’ve heard it’s the way to a man’s heart,” he murmured, his voice low. “Is it also the way to a woman’s?”

It seemed out of place. So far, the whole day had. “I’d say flowers, for a woman.” She gave him a bright smile, finished what was left on her plate, and moved towards the sink to do dishes. “I hear jewelry works too.” She turned the water on and started filling the dish basin, rinsing and scrubbing.

There were a few long moment where she could feel his eyes watching her, sky under a mop of sun. A few dishes done, and she moved onto silverware, uneasy.

His question was subtle and smooth, fine wine in the morning air. “What about you, Meryl?” he asked quietly. “What’s the way to your heart?”

For some reason, she was not as surprised as she should have been. She gently lowered the dishes into the sink, the faucet still hissing out water. She took a good moment before she answered, preparing herself. “Love is the way to my heart.”

He also paused a moment before answering. “I like that answer.”

She smiled to herself slightly, and was about to say something, when he cut her off. “I’m going to walk around town. You should go buy yourself some nice clothes, and some for Milly. I have some things I need to do.”

Surprised at this, she turned, but just in time to see him shut the door behind him.

Puzzling over his words to her, she finished the dishes and put them away. New clothes it would be then. She was concerned about him wandering about town on his own, but felt strangely assured that he would do no harm to anyone.

The day was warm and bright as she stepped outside.