A/N: This. This story. I don't know what to think of it. I never thought I'd post an a SC! story, much less an Amuto, considering I prefer Kutau above anything else. Though my good friend En ar Ciel convinced me to post it. And I've decided to dedicate it to you. ^_^ PP is going to take too long to finish, so will you take this as a substitute instead? Happy almost-end of January.

And don't take this too seriously. I wrote it in fifteenmaybe30minutes based on the word marriage. Oh bah. Details.

Popsicle

"It's ridiculous."

Amu clutched the phone in between her neck and shoulder blade, licking hesitantly at an orange popsicle as she tried to form a reply that wouldn't incur Utau to instantly slam down the phone on her end. It was obvious Utau loved Kukai, her husband that she complained of his frequent useless, irresponsible, whimsy, irritating attitude that would end them stuck in a wallowing pit of debt. Though Amu knew she only called whenever Kukai was away on games for the team he coached. And she never brought it up with him because it was a sore subject. He'd torn a ligament in his early days of college soccer.

Everyone told him to quit.

"And the idiot would probably still be smiling," she curtly added before mulling in her own silence again.

Amu laughed lightly. "Kukai's always been that way." Her brow immediately scrunched at the memory of him tugging her along during their Guardian days for training. Her mouth poised in an 'o', she couldn't muster up a word to contribute without Kukai seeming like the bad guy. Popping static answered her obvious plea for another subject. "Um," she tried, "how's your modeling work going?"

Instantly, Amu knew she'd asked the wrong question. She bit deep into the popsicle, silently berating herself.

"Fine," was her clipped response. "Even though no one seems to want an old lady as their model, I've been getting more jobs lately."

Amu flinched at the cold tone. Utau never forgot an insult. And she wasn't one to shove it back up someone's face blatantly once she proved them wrong.

"Ignorant degenerates," she darkly muttered.

At least, not too often.

"You're only 25, Utau," she happily encouraged.

"..."

Amu pressed the phone tighter against her neck, quietly listening. Apparently for longer than she'd thought, as the popsicle had begun to run down her hand. She disdainfully rubbed her sugary-coated fingers on the towel hanging from the counter.

"Kukai wants kids."

The phone tumbled from her grasp and clattered to the floor. Amu yelped and stepped forward to retrieve it, when she slipped on the small puddle formed from the popsicle, and ran face first into the fridge before crumpling to the floor, clutching her nose. She grasped for the phone, glumly noting her popsicle had flown to mysterious whereabouts into a dusty corner.

"Utau, are you still there?" she asked, pinching closed her nose with two free fingers when she noticed it had started to bleed. "Sorry, I dropped my phone."
There was a thump to her left, and Amu looked up, face draining white when she noticed Ikuto standing there, who had loudly placed some of her textbooks on the table and was faced away from her, shoulders shaking in laughter.

"Ikuto!" She stood up quickly, facing away from him so he couldn't see her pinching her nose shut.

"Ikuto? Is he there? Let me talk to him." Amu nearly cried out. Utau rarely mentioned something that bothered her. The moment had been whisked away so easily at the first utterance of his name. Amu purposefully stared at him, who had taken to nonchalantly flipping through her college text books.

She held the phone toward Ikuto, who didn't notice. She waved it under his nose a few times before he suddenly looked at her, and lost all expression.

His lip twitched once like he wanted to laugh. She probably looked like a mess, still in her robe, with orange smears running the length of her right arm and slathered across the white kittens on her robe.

He gave her a placid once-over, then began flipping through the textbook again. "Who is it?"

"Utau," she whispered.

He picked up the book of interest, turned, and stalked away without acknowledgment.

"Hey!" He turned toward her halfheartedly, slipping one hand into the pocket of his jeans.

A lone blue brow lifted.

She frantically motioned toward the phone, which had fallen to an eerie, icy silence with the occasional spurt of static.

"Amu?"

Amu lifted the phone to her ear, letting her face of irritation dissolve into one of a controlled smile. "Yes, Utau?"

"Just leave him be. I'll call you later."

"O-okay," she sputtered, smile falling. "Bye Utau."

The line cut to a dull thrum. Amu slipped her phone into the pocket of her robe, letting her fingers fall from her nose.

Without her notice, Ikuto had crept up beside her. One hand placed on the counter, head hanging above her right shoulder. "You smell like oranges."

Amu delicately slid away from the free hand that had fallen to her hip.

"She wanted to talk to you. Why didn't you take the phone?" She crossed her arms over her chest, staring up at him. Despite the years he'd taken to travel back to Japan after 5 years of searching for his father, she'd only grown an inch. Ikuto found it amusing, where she found it irritating.

His head fell to the side.

"Did she? I was wondering why you were telling me who it was." His gaze lifted to above her head, growing glassy.

Amu refused a groan, and clenched her teeth to keep from replying.

"What did she want?" he asked, fumbling with the bread bag on the counter.

Amu watched him. She placed a finger to her chin. "I'm not sure."

A gap of silence grew between them. Ikuto glanced at her, noticing as she fidgeted and fumbled her thumbs. He dropped the knife with a clang.

No words were uttered. He simply stood in front of her. Amu leaned against him, finally letting loose a breath when his arms closed around her. "Kukai wants kids," she mumbled into his chest.

He probably hadn't told her. But it was obvious, with the kids he coached. The way he lingered after practice to help them with a goal, cried when they cried, grew in tune to their anger and frustrations.

"I never know what you're thinking," she sighed, clamping her hands over her mouth in embarrassment when she realized she hadn't just thought that to herself.

He smiled slightly. "Right now?"

"I have a feeling I already know," she deadpanned. Ikuto chuckled.

"I guess I don't need to tell you then."

Amu glanced up at him warily, pushing away from his chest. "What?"

He placed a fingers to his lips, his smile quiet. "Stay still."

Amu confusedly watched him as he took her face in his hands and turned her ear toward him, leaning close.

"Let's get married."