A/N: I'm in the process of writing a longer fic about this ship that covers their whole childhood and their high school life up to their eventual confession in a non-despair AU, but my friends and I had this idea that ultimately ended up being way too ridiculous to use (particularly since at this point in the fic there is absolutely no way Peko would have the confidence to say stuff like this to Fuyuhiko). Consider this an AU to an AU fic that doesn't actually exist yet. Basically the only thing you need to know is that Nagito isn't creepy and unstable (just rather weird - think case 1 before the reveal), and Peko's in the drama club.

It was an afternoon like any other at the Kuzuryu household. Fuyuhiko, insistent on doing things on his own, had thrown himself into washing the dishes, and Peko, having reluctantly given up on trying to help, now sat on the couch, reading the newspaper. That is, it looked like she was reading the newspaper. He couldn't help but notice the fact that she'd been on the same page for the past half an hour. She was clearly trying to hide it, but she was breathing heavily, and a wrinkle in the newspaper rose and fell with each anxious puff of air. Right as he was about to turn and ask if something was wrong, she cleared her throat and stood up, meeting his eyes.

"So, young master… do you... come here often?"

Fuyuhiko blinked. "I live here?"

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"...I see. That was a test, young master. Congratulations. You passed. If you'll excuse me."

In a single motion, she tucked the newspaper under her arm and exited the room faster than he'd ever seen her move.

What the hell?

He stared at the door she'd just gone through, baffled. She'd been acting weird all afternoon, but why would she ask him if he "came here often?" Don't people only say that when they're -

Hold on.

She couldn't have been trying to -

No. Fuyuhiko shook his head, trying to rid himself of the ridiculous thought even as a flush crept up his throat. Don't be fucking stupid. She doesn't see you like that.

Yet even as he continued washing the dishes, he couldn't help but glance at the door, half-hoping that she'd come back.

Peko closed the door behind her, hurriedly whipping out her flip phone.

Peko Pekoyama: Ibuki. It didn't work.

The response was immediate.

mioioioioioioioioiodaaaa: whaaaaaaat? no way that's lame-o D:

Peko Pekoyama: He just seemed… confused. And then informed me that he lives here.

The typing seemed to take an eternity, and Peko caught herself glancing back at the door. Was it out of fear? Embarrassment? …Hope? She couldn't put a finger on the feeling. Well, aside from one thing.

Peko Pekoyama: And now I have this strange and terrible desire never to go inside ever again for as long as I live.

mioioioioioioioioiodaaaa: oof pekpek rip

mioioioioioioioioiodaaaa: but don't worry! ibuki has 493 more!

Peko Pekoyama: 493? Of what?

mioioioioioioioioiodaaaa: pickup lines duh ^o^

Peko Pekoyama: IBUKI

Peko Pekoyama: PLEASE RECONSIDER

*mioioioioioioioioiodaaaa is offline*

Her plea unheard, Peko snapped the phone shut, sighing through gritted teeth. This was definitely a mistake.

Peko took a deep breath, clearing her throat. Just remember what Ibuki said. It's like acting. Most likely. This is just another drama club exercise. Allowing the theatre juices to flow through her veins, she strode over to where Fuyuhiko sat gathering his books - and at the peak of their thespian influence, she whirled around and slammed her hand on his desk, causing him to leap about three feet in the air.

"Young master, when you look at yourself in the mirror, you should compare yourself to my blade!"

"Uh, what?"

Peko tossed her head with great force, though the effect was less L'Oreal commercial and more irate charging stallion. One of her braids slapped her in the nose, but she paid it no heed. The show must go on.

"Because you're looking rather…" - she drew her sword with significant drama - "...sharp this evening."

"...Peko, did you hit your head or something?"

The creative juices had dissipated at the worst possible time. She had absolutely no follow-up.

"No, I - "

"Seriously, you've been acting really strange lately." Books gathered, he stuffed them into his backpack and started toward the door. "Come on, we should get home. I don't want to deal with the old man losing his shit if we're late."

She followed in silence, trailing behind to hide her embarrassment. What had she done?

And because of her distance, she had no idea that Fuyuhiko's face was angled toward the ground not from anger, but from an intense effort to hide the color in his face.

Someone had to make her say that or something. There's no way she'd phrase a weird-ass compliment like that herself. No fucking way.

Both of them were pretty sure that would be the end of it.

It wasn't.

"C'mon, Peko, let's go! Giddyup!"

Despite her best efforts to put all of this ridiculous nonsense out of her mind, here she was, being shoved down the hallway by a girl full of more piercings than common sense.

"Ibuki. No. I'm not doing this again."

"Okay, fine!" Ibuki stopped pushing her, much to Peko's relief, who immediately stepped away from her to regain a semblance of personal space. "All we have to do is get through the other 492 pickup lines, and then Ibuki will give up and set you free forever!"

If Peko had to say one more pickup line to her young master, she was certain the only freedom she'd seek was the sweet release of death.

"Your first recommendation confused him, and the second was unsuccessful. I have no intention of angering the young master or embarrassing myself past this point. Besides…" Peko furrowed her brow, closing her eyes as if the next words were painful. "...If I say this one, he's going to think I'm some kind of pervert."

Ibuki grabbed her by the shoulders, ignoring her flinch as she looked intensely into Peko's eyes. "Sometimes… Ibuki believes those are chances people have to take. For TRUE LOVE."

Peko bit her lip, taking a deep breath. "...For some reason, it has always been incredibly difficult to argue with you, Ibuki. Fine. I'll do it."

Ibuki shouted excitedly at a volume that attracted the stare of nearly everyone else in the hallway, and Peko trudged toward Fuyuhiko, eyes to the floor.

"Hello, young master."

Fuyuhiko, who was in the middle of chatting with Hajime and Nagito, turned his head in mild surprise. "Oh, hey, Peko. You ready to get going?"

A small smile was on his face when he turned toward her, and Peko felt her stomach drop a little. Ignoring the feeling, she remembered Ibuki's prior motion of intensity, and for quite literally the first time in her life, she slammed her hands on Fuyuhiko's shoulders. As roughly eighteen conflicting expressions crossed his face, Peko became aware of the sudden closeness and instantly squeezed her eyes shut.

"...Young master, your pinstriped suits are a suitable and fashionable choice."

Fuyuhiko looked like he was inches from passing out. Hajime edged sideways, mildly terrified. Nagito wore the same smile as ever, watching the spectacle with some interest. Peko coughed, clearly not wanting to get out the next words, but managed to speak at last.

"...Perhaps it would be in both of our interests if you were to… er, to…" She trailed off, her entire being bubbling up with regret, only for Ibuki to run up to her and loudly whisper in her ear. Peko reluctantly cleared her throat, and continued.

"If you were to...pin me down sometime…"

Fuyuhiko blinked. Twice. He took a single breath.

...What?

"Hey, uh, Fuyuhiko? Are you okay?"

Hajime waved a hand in front of Fuyuhiko's face. No reaction. His eyes had glazed over, as if he had stared into the void and it had claimed his soul. Considering he'd been standing there in complete silence for several minutes, the four of them were starting to think it had.

"Okay then… I guess I'll just… go to class? See you guys there?"

Hajime, filled with unanswered questions, slowly sidestepped away. With a light chuckle, Nagito turned to follow him. In the meantime, Ibuki had begun slowly picking Peko's stiff fingers from Fuyuhiko's shoulder blades one-by-one.

"Ibuki, I think I've made a terrible mistake."

"Nah, he's just waaaay too blown away by how super-hot you are! We gotta go to class and tell everyone!"

"I think I've made him seriously ill - "

"He'll be fiiiiiine. Let's go let's go let's go!"

Before Peko could protest, she was being dragged by the forearm to chemistry class.

Fuyuhiko, on the other hand, continued to exist in temporal stasis.

Did that actually happen?

A distant voice, something he couldn't quite make out.

Did something happen last night? Is this a dream?

"...Excuse me…"

Am I dead?

"Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu!"

A loud finger snap launched him back into reality. Kiyotaka stood in front of him, arms folded, with a severe expression.

"I am very disappointed! I didn't think you were the type to skip class!"

"Skip...class?"

"Yes!" Taka checked his watch. "By my count, you've been standing next to these lockers for twelve minutes!"

"Oh. Sorry."

Taka was baffled. No confrontation? No defensiveness?

"Now don't think you can just walk into class without even giving an excuse for your tardiness!"

But Fuyuhiko had already walked inside, sitting down at his desk to a reprimand from the teacher and a very strange look from Hajime. However, there were more stares directed at Peko, who sat silently in her seat, burying her head in the textbook to hide the redness of her face - and to avoid looking at Ibuki, who would wink at her every time their eyes met.

Several days went by. They saw each other in passing, but took every opportunity to avoid conversation. Until...

"H-hey, uh, Peko…"

Fuyuhiko had moved in front of her in an odd, stiff manner, fists thrust in his pockets. His head was down, and he refused to meet her eyes. On a closer glance, he appeared to be… shaking?

Peko stopped in her tracks. In a panic, she looked for any escape route she could find to avoid having to revisit her previous words to him. The hallway? No, he was blocking her path. The window? Property damage, probable injuries, and she'd be too far away from the young master to come to his aid if necessary. Perhaps a distraction was in order -

"Peko."

Her chance lost, she turned her eyes toward him, attempting to stifle her own anxiety. "...Yes, young master?"

"You're really good with a sword."

The statement was halting and robotic, as if being read from a script. Peko raised an eyebrow. This... wasn't what she was expecting?

"I appreciate the compliment, but there is really no need - "

"...ay...ut…..of….hat...y…"

Fuyuhiko's next words were so uncharacteristically quiet that it barely resembled human speech, and appeared to be directed toward the floorboards.

"Young master, if it's something confidential, we can go elsewhere - "

"...maybe you can...cut me off...a slice of...that...body…"

If you could bottle the subsequent silence and sell it, it would be potent enough to knock out a horse.

Peko looked at Fuyuhiko, who still refused to look her in the eye. She looked down at her body, giving herself a strange sort of once-over. Gently, she closed her eyes, and heaved a sigh of great sadness and resignation.

"...Though it is both unorthodox and rather unexpected of you, I understand and accept my punishment for my transgressions." In a flash, she drew her sword, the tip of the blade suspended a few inches above her left foot. "The least essential body part would likely be one of my toes… perhaps the smallest one?"

"PEKO MY GOD NO."

yakuzuryu: Nagito you literal piece of shit it didn't work

nkomemeda: what a shame. i was hoping it would go better.

yakuzuryu: Nagito you bastard you don't understand she TRIED TO CUT OFF HER OWN FUCKING TOE

nkomemeda: haha mood

yakuzuryu: What the hell does that mean?

*nkomemeda is offline*