Back after so long, yay! We finally get to start pushing things between the two artistic hotheads forward a bit!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own KnB - only my OCs and the situations I put those poor characters into!

"Sir, Hayashi-san is here", Takao's secretary announced via the intercom, interrupting his coffee break. "Should I tell her to wait?"

He hastily pulled out a box of tiramisu cake from Atsu-chan's bakery from a drawer of his desk, and pressed the button to his intercom "Ah, yes, Kubo-san, thank you. Send her in, please."

Ms. Kubo confirmed his request, and, a moment later, Junko, in all her bored glory, strode confidently through the door, strutting like she owned the place herself. He managed to steal a peek at his secretary's flabbergasted face before the door closed behind the famous writer. One would think that those who had experienced the eccentric woman before would have been used to her weird choices of clothes by now…

But nope. Even he had to pause for a second now and then. Today's outfit would have been fine if it was Halloween or something. But that had long passed, and yet here Junko was, clad in what could never be considered anything but a carnival costume!

Her hair was done elaborately in a Japanese traditional style, and woven through the strands was a string attached to a rose-shaped eyepatch. Said eyepatch rested comfortably on her left eye. Black lace gloves adorned her hands and forearms right up to the elbows, and black pumps clashed with a pair of black fishnet stockings – which were not symmetrical in length. A pair of nude-colored, high-waist shorts looked completely out of place with her tight black top. A top that had a tail of frills billowing behind her as she moved. And… were those stars and pumpkins stitched on the damn thing?!

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Jun-chan's choice of attire was not important at the moment. He had to make her see reason – well, his kind of reason, anyway. He looked at her face to gauge her mood. Most people had trouble understanding what his favorite writer was feeling or thinking, but he, like her flatmate, had spent enough time with her to know how to crack her code. He often thought of her emotions as the weather – and he was the weather manipulator, so to speak. Lame name, but he'd take it. He had learnt how to goad her into and through her moods by now, and it might be morally grey, but if it meant her popping out more books, and him making more money, he would just have to live with that kind of guilt. It certainly didn't keep him awake at night, to be honest.

"My, my, Jun-chan, what a surprise to see you here~"

"You were the one who texted me and told me to come", the writer deadpanned. "Sounded important."

"Oh, did I? Must have slipped my mind, silly me~", he giggled like a bimbo schoolgirl, bonking his head playfully with his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth. The woman narrowed her eyes in response, and he saw she wasn't in the mood to bullshit around. Must have interrupted her writing. Well, in that case…

She blinked. And then her whole body finally turned completely towards him, her focus now solely on the man. He supposed he couldn't blame her. He knew what kind of face he was making.

It was something that only those who have known him long enough knew. Takao Kazunari was a shrewd businessman, through and through, and whenever he tended to act coy, and then instantly change his expression to that of a predator, he was about to suggest something that wasn't necessarily illegal, but maybe a tad bit… immoral?

"OK, boss man", Junko inquired softly but cautiously. "Why don't we get to the point?"

He smirked, raising his offering – cough, bait, cough – for her to see and drool at "Why, of course. Have a seat, Jun-chan. Tiramisu?"

Something was going on. The editor knew which button to push any time he wanted something. It was, more often than not, her sweet tooth. For him to be pulling the damn cake out, without asking her about his wife – who had clearly dressed her up today, and he had to know this – or comment on the progress of her new book… He was scheming! Most definitely!

Junko studied him for a moment. Would it be that bad, even if he was? His schemes always helped her along the way, no matter how devious. She made herself comfortable on the edge of his desk, not caring about decorum – or the fact that this was a married man and soon-to-be-father – in the least. Takao Kazunari had eyes for his little Maiko only – it was like the rest of the world's female population just didn't exist. So there was no way he was ogling the goods.

What kept bothering her was the enigma that was his current plan. How bad could it be…?

"OK, boss dude", she drawled even as she was reaching for the sugary offering. "I know you. You're up to something. What is it? Spill it!"

His eyes glinted as he studied her while she was already chewing the first bite. "Why, Jun-chan, you wound me! Why ever would you think that?"

She raised a well-formed eyebrow and pointed twice with her plastic fork – once at the box, and then at her full cheeks. He giggled "Alright, I suppose I am brewing up a plan… But it's all good! It's for the sake of your movie and for your new book! I think I found a way to salvage your reputation and spice things up after that TV fiasco with Yu-chan."

The writer simply grunted as she put her fork in her mouth, biting down and waiting for him to continue. Grinning, he went on "Go out with him."

Apparently, it could be more than just bad. Junko could distinctly hear a weird crunching noise, as her shocked brain rushed to process the insanity her editor slash boss was proposing. It took her a few seconds to realize she had snapped her mouth shut so forcefully on the plastic fork, that she was now chewing on the broken pieces along with the cake they had been carrying.

She hurriedly reached for the trash bin by Takao's desk and spit out everything – no point trying to pick apart the dessert from the plastic. As she saw the chewed mass sitting on top of some torn documents, he could practically feel her mood plummeting. That was some good cake – all wasted now.

Her sullen gaze turned towards the smug male behind the desk. "I would start by asking what the fuck is wrong with you, seeing as you're supposed to be a friend to both of us, but… Actually, fuck it, I'll ask anyway. What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Takao raised his hands in a defensive gesture "I'm not asking for much. Just a few dates, maybe a smooch or two – hell, you can give him a ride as well, the poor guy probable needs some stress relief."

Sometimes, she had to actively remind herself of what kind of conniving bastard she was dealing with. Today was definitely one of those. "Wow, and you call yourself his friend. OK, one, I'm in a sexual moratorium, remember? And two…", she paused, then shrugged, "no, wait, I thought he would get his heart broken afterwards, but then I remembered, it's wrong to assume he has one to begin with."

He chuckled "He's not that bad, Jun-chan. The guy is artistic, a creative individual like you, and antisocial to the extreme if left to his own devices. You two are perfect for each other." He paused in alarm once he saw her staring at him, dead in the eye, and snapping in two what was left of her fork with her clenching fingers. Changing tactics, he leaned forward "Look, all I'm saying is, the TV scandal has been out of our control. But if we can give our target audience – and the tabloids – some fake romance to focus on, just until after the movie is released, we might be able to turn the tide to our liking."

Nope! He was not going to sway her using her movie! No way in hell!

Abruptly, she rose from her seat and threw the rest of the fork pieces in the bin. Then, without a word, she turned to leave the office – only to return and grab the box with the leftover cake. "I'm keeping this", she announced angrily, and stomped her way out of the room.

"Glad you could see it my way, Jun-chan~", she heard the sneaky bastard giggling, not even bothering to flip him off.

PREVIEW:

"Did you just punch me?!"

"I intended to insult your lack of gentlemanly ways but instinct won in the end, so, yeah."

"I'm not a complete gentleman where you are concerned anymore. And as that idiot blonde who calls himself your fan can assure you, I'm quite violent when I want to be. Remember that next time you want to play whack-a-mole with my face."