986/Why Is The World In Love Again

Why Is The World In Love Again
Date of Scene:	27 December 2023
Location:	Kazuo's Mom's Apartment
Synopsis:	After Thetis floods Mamoru's room, and Koji helps Mamoru with the initial mess, Kazuo brings Mamoru home to sleep on his couch for a few days so he's not even in the flooded room while it's being dealt with. Then Kazuo's mom comes home.
Cast of Characters:	Mamoru Chiba, Kazuo Saitou

---

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
The carpet is wet, but only half of it, which is a miracle in and of itself-- that it's not spreading its dampness like a glitter plague. The bed's been stripped. There are electronics with their batteries removed, carefully drying. There are clothes in the wash-- all of them-- there are sneakers in the dryer thumping around in the common laundry. (There are also a tupperware of wrinkly drying papers and a water-damaged old photo, and two stuffies, that have been handed off to Usagi and Naru for drying and safekeeping purposes.) There is an extremely sullen demon cat grooming herself on Koji's bed. The mattress is one of those plastic-covered camp cabin mattresses, so--

"It squishes in slow motion," Mamoru says despondently. "There are bubbles at the seams and the water oozes out."

He sighs deeply. "If this is as bad as it gets, I should be grateful. Thankfully I don't have too much stuff to be ruined in the first place."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Kazuo winces. "It probably needs to be hung up to drain the water out, or something." He does not attempt to pet the demon cat. He would like to keep his fingers. And wrist. And elbow. "And that could take a day or two. No. No, there's nothing else for it. First, we check with your RA and see if they have a source for the care and feeding of pranked mattresses." They probably do. And probably also have opinions about the wet carpet, miracle or no miracle.

... 'first' implies a second. "Then, when your laundry is dry, you're borrowing our couch till you have something here to sleep on again."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"... isn't your couch your bed?" asks Mamoru a little hesitantly, looking at Kazuo sidelong. "I gratefully accept your offer of yourself as a mattress, but I don't think you know what you're getting into. I'm heavier than I look."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"I can sleep on the floor. It would not be the first time. And don't give me that look, it means you'd be the one having to put up with the couch arms getting in the way."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"You did that sometimes. I remember. When I couldn't sleep," says Mamoru a little absently, looking back into the room for a moment. "Okay. But if you're achy in the morning we'll switch the next day, okay? And I'll fix it. Both times."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
There's a little blink at Mamoru's absent comment, but Kazuo doesn't say anything to draw attention to it. Instead, there's a faint little hint of a smile, different from his usual more present one. "If you're fixing it, why would I switch? No ache, no problem. No, the only ache's going to be my usual headache."

* * * * *

The apartment is ... not large. One main room with tiny kitchenette, scrupulously clean, and with sheets over the couch and a blanket on the back, check. There is a TV screen hung on the wall, and a little charging setup for phones and earbuds and a cheap laptop. There is a single table (folding) with two chairs (also folding). There are doors that Kazuo identified on the way: mother's bedroom, bathroom (tiny tiny complex, because why wouldn't you have more specialized spaces there than in the entire rest of the apartment?), and closet. There are shelves, one of which holds folded clothes and schoolbooks, one more of which holds other books, and the rest of which ...

... stare brightly, cheerfully, and perkily.

There are so many tiny wide-eyed anime figurines. So many.

Two of the upper shelves are empty. There are so a small army of anime figurines on the tiny end tables either side of the couch. There are seven plushie bishounen on the couch itself. There are acrylic charms dangling from hooks tucked onto the wall over it.

Kazuo's abrupt pause and stare at the couch suggests that this is not normal.

He exhales through his teeth. "-- I'll take care of that," he says, and steps hastily forward to start clearing plushies.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
Mamoru's good. He doesn't comment any further than a murmured 'you weren't kidding', though he stares in clear fascination at the figurines... until he sees the charms dangling from hooks.

That's when he makes a tiny choked sound. "Souvenirs?" he asks, sounding a little strangled.

He keeps his backpack on.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"They only made one piece of merch for the character my mother inexplicably decided reminded her of me," Kazuo says, not quite through teeth. The plushies are hauled through the bedroom door (the room beyond is tiny and spare and neat with no visible chibis) and dropping them on the bed without ceremony. He comes back to start pulling hooks off the wall, leaving bits of the light adhesive behind. "I keep thinking I've gotten rid of them all. She might have bought the entire run."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"What did you do?" asks Mamoru in horrified fascination. "Did she get back from the cruise early?"
He finally puts his bag down and goes to half-kneel on the couch, just to pick the bits of adhesive off the wall. It's something to do besides stare, or watch. "Wasn't this a one-season show?" A beat. "When you were like nine?"

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Contrary to menace, the charms are stacked neatly on one of those empty shelves, and Kazuo starts removing the end table army. There are only two larger figurines; those go first, and the rest go around them, in decreasing order of size. "It was," he confirms, baleful in a way that is definitely not directed at Mamoru. "And if I knew, I'd've come down first to clear things out."

... he hasn't charged his phone yet, has he.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"... whatever it was is probably my fault," Mamoru says, still picking at adhesive bits, glancing backwards -- then to the side -- to make sure he's not in the way of what Kazuo is doing. "I mean technically. I am the one who stole you away for basically a week to a place with no reception, right after finals. Oh no, you didn't flub your finals did you?"

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Mamoru is working while on the couch. Kazuo is working while next to the couch. Apparently either this is genuinely not in the way or Kazuo is rearranging on the fly to accommodate it - hard to tell.

"Flub finals?" Kazuo asks, giving Mamoru a sidelong look in turn - this one mildly incredulous. "Maybe if they gave us next term's finals instead. No, I actually studied more than usual the last few months." What with the homework hours with Mamoru, and the lack of spending nights going out getting into fistfights. "You are not taking the blame on this. I should've realized reception might be a problem."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
It takes a second of looking blank before Mamoru's eyes widen. "Oh. Oh no, she was looking for you. Even though she was on a cruise." Yes, Mamoru, parents do that if they don't suck. "Dammit. Then why didn't--"

Now his fingers are pinching the bridge of his nose as he leans back on his heels, knees dug into the couch cushions. "It's not charged, either, is it. I'm sorry, I was getting texts from Naru via communicator, I didn't even think of it."

Then Mamoru huffs out a breath. "The stuff I'm going to have to replace. I still have most of the last paycheck, and a bunch left in my savings account, I should be able to float until the legal stuff gets fixed. Sorry. I was just thinking of your charger. Then I thought of mine," he says sheepishly, then glances back up at the wall. He reaches up to pick off the last piece of adhesive. Pick pick pick.

He's carefully not looking at Kazuo when he asks, "Is your mom going to mind the kid who needed a hotel room in a hurry sleeping in her living room?"

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"Your room got flooded," Kazuo replies. Righteous defensiveness! Whether of Mamoru, his mother, or both. He finishes with that end table and detours a step or two to put his phone on the charger, then comes back to tackle the second. This one has a lot of particularly cherubic looks. Also characters being swarmed by pets. The pets are also frequently cherubic. One might actually be a cherub, but in the 'all wings and feathers and eyes' sense. Er. A cherubim, then?

"It's okay. I needed to exasperate her a little more anyway." Kazuo eyes a chibi being facelicked by a hypothetically fuzzy flop-eared dog nearly its own size, and sets it back into what is apparently its proper place, but facing the wall. "Do you even have a currently usable phone? Everything happened faster than we expected, it threw all the plans off."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"Yeah, my personal phone has billing set up through my bank account. My work phone is hilariously flooded, so I'm mailing it back as-is in a ziploc bag in a box," says Mamoru cheerfully, "along with my cut-up and demagnetized credit card. I did all that already, figured I should get it dealt with as soon as humanly possible."

He slides off the couch and pads over to peer at the biblically accurate angel pet, then glances back at Kazuo. "I mean the phone is usable but I don't have a working charger. It's at..." He takes it out of his pocket and checks. "...34 percent."

There's a pause, and Mamoru's clearly thinking about something. He looks at Kazuo again, a little pink, and says while nervously and invisibly digging his toes into his borrowed house slippers, "I still want to be your boyfriend. I just... wanted to say that while we were alone."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"Then take a look at the chargers we've got and see if one of them works for you?" Kazuo suggests. "Maybe we can at least get you to 40. Or 45." The sea of fandom has receded enough that his eyes are laughing again.

... not laughing at what Mamoru says next. Only so very warm, for eyes with that little color to them.

Kazuo turns, and his arm comes around Mamoru, and he doesn't fold Mamoru in against him - he draws himself against Mamoru instead. "Well, good," he murmurs. "Because otherwise I'd've had Usagi coming after me in your defense, demanding to know what I did to you and crying, and that was so terrifying before that honestly the phenomenal cosmic power doesn't actually give it an upgrade."

He settles for a moment, cheek against cheek, and adds, "In case it wasn't obvious, that was a yes."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
And Mamoru leans into that-- Endymion does, Mamoru does. There's still a little bit of difference, where if he leans one way he's more sure of himself and if he leans the other he's more sure of other people, but there are some things where it doesn't matter: any and all disparate parts of him are in agreement. Apparently leaning into Kazuo is one of them.

Cheek to cheek, there's the unguarded contact, senses filtering through a sea of life and connections, awarenesses of where other people he's close to are, awareness of the ground however many floors up they are. Skin to skin, the prince's emotions are vivid: uncertainty and silly anxiety clearing away in almost giddy relief, comfort and safety behind it. And love that stretches back through different configurations, different perspectives. The specific desire to follow and keep, though not the kind that won't take no for an answer -- the kind that wants to make sure that it's known that there's a place, always, no matter what the shape of it may be.

"Good," murmurs the black-haired boy, so young twice over, even with the ancient heart of the Earth beating inside him. He turns his head to rest it against Kazuo's shoulder and laughs quietly, a little muffled, against Kazuo's neck. "What were you afraid of? Is there time to talk before your mother gets home?"

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"That depends," Kazuo murmurs back, warm and with quiet laughter underlying it, "on how much you're going to yell at me for being stupid. And if she walks in on that I probably deserve it."

He lifts his free hand, ruffles hair, settles deliberately comfortably into that place - not that he was out of it to begin with, but there's being in it and there's making a point of being consciously in it. "Couple of parts. First one: you'd started out by using flirting to try to dissuade me, so I literally couldn't know if you thought you needed to use flirting to hold on to me. You didn't. But I couldn't tell for sure if you knew that. Second one: even when I was pretty sure you knew it, there was a worry about how the others would react. But if Zoi didn't flip out even when he was that much of a mess, he probably wasn't going to flip out when he wasn't. And if he wasn't actually hurt by it, I don't think the others will be either. Honestly, after that talk, I should've told you it was all right. There wasn't a good time for it, but I should've tried harder to make one."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"That talk feels like it was last week, it's been so crazy," Mamoru says with a little huff of a laugh, and then he hides his face and mumbles something indistinct. Then he realizes how indistinct it actually was and laughs again, this time embarrassed. "I was... I really did want to seduce you," he says, lifting his head.

"But not to the Dark Side. This is how I remember it now: I also wanted to beat Zoisite to it, because I thought it might work and he'd get you to the Dark Side, and also, you know, get to seduce you before I got the chance. And it was 'seduce' instead of just 'flirt with' because that's the word Zoi kept using, so I did go out of my comfort zone when flirting, and not just to dissuade you, which was... ill-advised on so many levels, but then I stopped because it worked in dissuading you, but it worked too well, and the damage was done."

Mamoru sighs, and presses his face against Kazuo's shoulder again, then laughs. "Once you were with me it was honest flirting. But I can see why you couldn't entirely trust that. It wasn't-- I thought it was just that you felt like I was drunk because of the dark energy, which is what made me so mad."

Finally he draws back, and leans in briefly to kiss Kazuo on the lips before pulling back again and saying, "I am, of course, willing to share with Zoi, if you want to." He looks thoughtful. "I think Jadeite had the pissiest face about it when I danced with you at the masquerade, but he was also in his proper uniform which I couldn't think about, and he was also so, so, so messed up. He has a lot of pieces he needs to put back together, and he needs help with it." A beat. "But I don't think he's interested in flirting with you."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"I didn't think you were drunk because of the dark energy," Kazuo agrees. "I just ... didn't know how to put it in words the right way." He starts to lift a hand, but Mamoru interrupts him in a way he's glad to entertain; it's not till Mamoru's talking about Jadeite that he makes it all the way to running fingers through dark hair, then laughing aloud at the last sentence. "I don't think so, either. I'd be a little surprised if he was interested in flirting with anybody - he's all either raw edges or sharp ones right now. I hope we can help him with that. But some of that's up to him. As for Zoi ... we'll figure things out. I'm not going to try to guess which way things will go; he loves being a little chaos whirlwind too much to risk making plans."

A little pause, when he doesn't think about anything but the warm lean against him, the texture of strands against his fingertips. Then at last: "But that's them. What do you need? Besides a dry room, a place to sleep, and a charger?"

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
Mamoru's quiet a long moment, with fingers in his hair; he closes his eyes and glories in touch that doesn't have a reaction to wasps in it, that has feelings in it instead. Then, blue eyes opening, "I think I just need time. And more anchors. There's more Endymion by volume than there is Mamoru, and I don't think that especially matters? But I should examine it, because I think that it would have mattered before. Before the shrine, et cetera. More anchors just to keep me from-- I don't know. I feel very light."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"Then maybe we should sit down, now that we have a couch. Maybe even eat something that doesn't require a rock or something." Kazuo isn't actually making any motions to sit down. There's one glance at the couch. That's it. Just touching. "Being where we were can't have helped much. That place cosplays cause and effect."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"Oh it did not help at all, I don't like that place, Earth was in a headachewards direction and I couldn't quite find anyone who wasn't there," Mamoru says with a theatrical shudder. His pulse flutters in the back of his teeth, somehow, and the quiet of the apartment is a solid thing with nothing to break it up but breathing. The prince laughs, but under that touch he's still Mamoru, whoever that is-- he feels like the boy Kazuo's gotten to know seemed to be like, but without the dark energy.

"It's what feels immediate and what doesn't," he says decisively after a second, hooking his fingers in Kazuo's pockets and briefly tugging him, pulling away in the direction of sitting on the couch. Then he sits, looking up and up at Kazuo. "There's a problem when events in the Pleistocene feel more recent than a month ago. I'll get over it, but it's the weirdest reflex to have to retrain when it wasn't even there three weeks ago."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Once his pockets are free, Kazuo folds himself down beside Mamoru. Clearly just to save his prince from a crick in the neck. "Don't worry," he agrees. "Once classes start up again, you'll be fine in short order." A beat, and Kazuo puts his arm along the back of the couch. "Or we could just get people to start ranting about the Prince of High School sequel again, but then you'd be fine and with a different kind of headache."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"... you're right, a routine would help tremendously," Mamoru says, leaning into Kazuo's suddenly very convenient side, Kazuo's arm now comfortably up behind his shoulders. He leans his head against Kazuo, too, half-turned to rest against shoulder and chest. "I really don't need to either read or hear about Prince of College, thanks. I cannot believe I read so many volumes of the high school one. I feel like it was a fever dream."

Mamoru pauses for a second. "What time does your mom get home? Also, let me tell you, reading manga while supervising a youma was normal at the time and really surreal in retrospect."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Arm curves, securing gently against warm solidity. Anchor in the moment, at least. "If she's working, my mother usually gets home very late. No telling if she's working, unless I text her. So it'll happen when it happens." A brief pause. "... and that is the surreal in retrospect part?" Laughter trembles just at the edge of Kazuo's voice. He is not making any alternative suggestions. No. He already made his opinion clear. With needle, thread, and tiny t-shirt.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
Well! If Kazuo isn't concerned, Mamoru isn't concerned either; he just trusts that Kazuo knows his mother and can probably predict something net positive about her potential reaction to coming home and finding her son cuddling another boy on the couch.

It'll happen when it happens.

"Of course that's the surreal in retrospect part! I was trying to get relationship advice from a manga, which is a decision I can only blame on Koji and dark energy, and I was doing it while making sure various youma employees didn't do things dumb enough to get themselves noticed. It almost sounds reasonable again when I explain it out loud, except supervising isn't something you should multitask on--"

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"Mamoru." ... that laughter is not at the edge of Kazuo's voice anymore. "Are you really chagrined over not having been a responsible enough evil manager?"

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"Yes!" insists Mamoru, starting to laugh anyway. "I mean, getting noticed usually means the youma screwed up and someone's getting hurt. I was more interested in fictional high school princely behavior to impress Usagi..." A beat. "Which is also surreal, knowing that I don't have to impress anyone--"

Mamoru's mouth shuts abruptly, and he's silent for a second before amending, "Except parents, I definitely have to impress parents."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"Why?"

That is not Kazuo's voice.

That is the voice of the woman hanging on the corner of the just-opened apartment door, peering in around the edge of it. She's a little darker-skinned than Kazuo; from where she's doing that peering, she's probably the height Makoto's going to settle at, plus Serious Business Dress heels. Black hair, bright blue eyes, that are laughing in a familiar way despite the glaze of tiredness.

"Well," Kazuo says. "That was quick."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
Mamoru freezes, from where he is half-curled into Kazuo's side on the couch, looking up at Kazuo's mother like a very blue-eyed deer in headlights.

"Because," he says after a half second, "parents are good people to impress?" This is offered as a potential answer, buying time while Mamoru attempts to reset his brain into coming up with a better one.

Somewhere in the middle of this he realizes that he should be standing up, and he starts to do so, already apologizing. "I'm so sorry, my manners are terrible, I didn't even bring anything-- I mean-- hello, I'm Chiba Mamoru!"

The boy who is apparently both sorry and Chiba Mamoru is wearing jeans and a green t-shirt with some kind of yellow print on it under a white button-down shirt, and expensive-looking dress shoes that are decidedly at odds with the dad-coat he's folded up over the arm of the couch. Also, glasses.

And he bows when he introduces himself. And then he adds wholly unnecessarily, "I have completely failed to impress you, haven't I."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
The woman's come in the door as Mamoru's been stammering; she's dressed in Serious Business as well, sleekly anonymous black and white, without being so sleek and well-tailored as to be declaring a challenge to her superiors. Well-calculated. "Oh, no," she protests all the same. "This is very impressive! Kazuo's never brought any of his friends home before, not all the way back to when he was tiny!"

She pauses. "I would be even more impressed," she adds seriously to Mamoru, "if you knew where he's been the last few days. Certainly he hasn't seen fit to let me know."

"Mother," Kazuo says, and his tone matches that tired glaze in her eyes, except with a little note of resignation added.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"Oh he was with me," Mamoru says immediately after Kazuo uses that tired resignation look and tone, going for a hat trick of longsuffering. He even says it like he thinks it'll be reassuring; it's the first confident thing he's said since Kazuo's mother arrived.

Then he apparently realizes how unhelpful it is, and laughs, rueful but bright. He gets a little more serious, but at least he also sounds confident here-- if a little hurried. "His phone ran out of charge and neither of us thought to go borrow a charger. I didn't have anyone I needed to call, so I didn't even think of it, we were very occupied."

He pauses, flushing a little. "I'm very, very sorry."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"Very occupied, trapped by the collapse of the entrance to an underground bunker, so that your priorities were air and water and food and escape for days on end?" Kazuo's mother suggests, with enthusiasm brightening her eyes. ... brightening her eyes to a faintly manic level, in fact.

Kazuo exhales, slumping back a little further on the couch. "Mother," he repeats, more emphatically.

"Your grandmother will be delighted to hear that while she was looking for your grave, you were actually clawing your way out of it! Let me see your fingernails. No, wait." Kazuo's mother lifts a hand almost to her mouth, and turns back to Mamoru, acquiring just a hint of fuss. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking. Has Kazuo gotten you anything to drink yet? Would you like to join us for a meal?"

"For a couple?" Kazuo suggests, and climbs to his feet to stand beside Mamoru, finally. "There was a prank war - and no, I was not participating, please don't even start - but his dorm room's flooded. I offered him the couch till it dries out."

"Oh, good. If your grandmother comes down, he can hide in my room until the carnage is over." Kazuo's mother turns and starts for the tiny kitchen corner.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"Oh, please don't be mad at him, if you're going to be mad, be mad at me. He just didn't want me to be alone," Mamoru says, taking a half-step forward, worry in his voice and face. "I-- I mean, I'd love to-- I mean, I'm not going to hide!" His face is still red, maybe more red, he doesn't know what to make of this mother who teases with merch and who makes fun when she's worried. He doesn't know what to think. "He was looking after me. I should be in trouble too!"

He's probably embarrassing Kazuo.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"You're a guest!" Kazuo's mother protests at Mamoru. "I'm not going to be mad at you! Certainly not tonight! If you like, I can be mad at you in the morning? It's only fair, Kazuo's earned a terrible alarm clock, so you can pay for the mad right away." She fills and starts the rice cooker, then fishes in their little fridge.

"-- I was going to cook," Kazuo says, apparently attempting to ignore morning threats.

"You have a guest. I am making oyakodon. Suffer. And by 'suffer,' I mean call your grandmother. If you try just texting her, she'll decide you're either in the hospital with six broken ribs and a crushed larynx, or should be, and then no power on earth and no mere fact is going to stop her from taking up her station by your bedside."

Kazuo covers half of his face with one hand, then turns his head out of his palm to mouth a silent 'Sorry about this' to Mamoru.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
He's starting to get the idea that this isn't actually going to be a fight, finally, and Mamoru re-folds himself onto the edge of the couch. "A terrible alarm clock doesn't sound so bad," he says uncertainly. "That sounds more than fair."

He looks at Kazuo with wide eyes. This is being in trouble? There's a little shake of his head, like, sorry about what. Then after a second Mamoru adds, "Thank you very much for your hospitality. Especially a surprise like this." He's also clearly burning with curiosity over 'suffering' but he's not going to ask because that's probably rude-- nope, he leans toward Kazuo, he is practically contractually obligated to ask, "Why is calling your grandmother suffering?"

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
It's at least not the kind of fight Mamoru might have been expecting. There are rules, and courtesies, and workarounds. There are, in fact, many things that might feel familiar, because Kazuo's mother has known him for better than a decade and a half now, and figured out long ago that fighting with him directly was a great way to lose... and after losing enough arguments to a six-year-old, instead of exploding in wrath, she decided the best plan was to figure out a way to have conflicts while also avoiding conflicts.

Plushies. Grandmothers. Terrible alarm clocks of some nebulous kind. Apparently, oyakodon.

"Oh, this is a very welcome surprise!" she protests. "I wasn't joking, he's never brought any friends home before, so this is the first time I've gotten to meet anyone." And he's not even sporting any bruises or bandages! This is such an improvement over her expectations!

But then there's Kazuo being leaned toward, and she subsides, with a bright-eyed little smile of affectionate menace.

Kazuo exhales, slowly, and does not answer Mamoru out loud. He goes instead to put his phone on the charger, and wait for it to be wakeable, and then awaken it, wait through the boot cycle, and bring up a contact to dial.

He does not get to say hello. He does not even bother lifting it to his ear.

"Kazuo Saitou!" The shout over the phone is quite audible from where Mamoru's sitting. "Which grave are you!?"

In an utterly resigned tone, Kazuo says, "Hello, gr--"

Possibly he's far enough from the phone that the other person can't hear him without speaker on. Which ... it is not. "You go home right this minute! Your mother has been sacrificing her own life for days trying to find you!"

"I am h--"

"Days, I tell you! Not a word out of you in weeks! Why don't you answer your texts like any other boy?! She'd be your liver, and you treat her like this! You go and apologize!"

"She's right h--"

"All this time trying to take care of you alone, and how do you repay her? How many keepers does one boy need? She should send you to that school at nights! They have whole buildings full of people who can watch you and tell us where you're buried! Buildings full of them!"

Kazuo leans back with the phone on his lap, glances at Mamoru, then lets his head tip back and eyes turn to regard the ceiling. Patiently.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
Rules, courtesies, workarounds -- unspoken agreements, like 'you don't attack mid-henshin' and 'you don't give away someone else's identity even if they're on the other side' -- rules of engagement. But also rules like in chess. But also courtesies and workarounds he'd do well to learn from, since they work so much better than yelling or just letting things happen... Mamoru watches, and listens, maybe a little wide-eyed for every part that surprises him.

Kazuo's mother meaning it when she says he's a welcome surprise, that definitely gets the wide eyes.

Grandmother-- well--

The look of affectionate menace bodes well for what he's coming to the conclusion is safe entertainment, at least. He glances to Kazuo, going across the room and seeing to his phone, and he's a little distracted so he murmurs, more or less to Kazuo's mother, "I haven't met any others, either. Not from much before me--"

And then Mamoru actually flinches at the yelling from the phone.

The flinch gradually transforms into disbelief, then at Kazuo's continued reaction to it, amused disbelief, and thereafter growing amused delight. "Oh," he breathes, "she's wonderful. But I don't think I'd want her pointed at me." He grins at Kazuo's glance and patient ceiling staring, and reaches over to pat Kazuo's closer hand, and then says to Kazuo's mother, "Sometimes I can get him to make that face."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"Really?" Kazuo's mother murmurs back, with an oddly hopeful note to it. Did her problem son really trade out his old peer group for a new one? Maybe one less given to brawling in the evenings? She can hope! There is nothing wrong with hoping!

And then Mamoru is distracted, and Kazuo's mother watches nearly beatifically in moments when she's not paying attention to slicing onion to add to the broth. Her voice drops even lower, barely audible to Mamoru, let alone to the phone across the room. "We all try very hard to keep her from being pointed at us. Sometimes it even works. I like that expression." Presumably she means the amused delight. "My father has one almost like that for when he gets to spectate."

Kazuo's closer hand turns over under Mamoru's, not quite catching at him. Not quite. Not till he adds that last sentence to Kazuo's mother, and he turns his fingers into mock claws to feign a sharp little grab.

Kazuo's mother beams.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"Really," Mamoru says so quietly, nodding. And then the distraction, and Mamoru almost misses the part where Kazuo's grandmother is ranting about sending Kazuo to the dorms to make sure someone knows where he's buried because he switches to paying attention to Kazuo's mother again, and she gets a quick, lopsided little smile for the comment, and then he's watching again and makes his comment and Kazuo fake-clawgrips his hand and Mamoru gives him - briefly - what can only be called a shit-eating grin.

He clasps the hand, and there's warm amusement and affection and a little bit of rueful sympathy, and there's the faintest little transfer of the tiniest bit of energy, like a kiss no one can see.

Then he looks back to Kazuo's mother, hand still in Kazuo's, and he asks her hopefully, "Can he move into the dorms? I won't distract him from his schoolwork, we already study together--"

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"- Kazuo." His mother's voice isn't loud, but it is so concentrated that even the take-no-prisoners and-also-no-breaths rant over the phone pauses.

There is a bright, bright spark of sudden silent laughter in that contact, as Kazuo looks back down from the heavens. "Yes, Mother?"

She brandishes the onion-knife, though without letting it ever point toward either of them. "Did you do this intentionally to get sent to the dorms?"

... make that a shower of sparks. "No, Mother," Kazuo says perfectly seriously. "Absolutely not. I wouldn't have worried you like that on purpose."

His mother manages a roll of eyes that involves both hands, both arms, and absently tossing in the onion to the heating stock. "It's only a happy accident? All right. All right. But I'm marking your grades, and if they drop by two points we're moving into a two-bedroom apartment, and you'll be back on the couch because the second room will be my mother's."

There is a moment of silence.

"Kazuo!" says the voice on the phone then. "I changed my mind. Don't study."