A/N: It's spring, the cherry blossoms are out, and my other two fics are emo, so I decided to write something a little more lighthearted. That, and I got some unexpected inspiration lately to write something that's longer than a few hundred words. So thanks saiyasluv, this one's for you! No spoilers, reviews are much appreciated! Enjoy! XD

Disclaimer: Even if I claimed to own Akiyama & co., nobody would believe me anyway....

Chapter 1 – The magazines, not the paintbrush!

Akiyama Shinichi was a genius. People called him a swindler, but he had always preferred the more neutral term 'strategist.' Yes, that's what he was: a genius strategist who happened to sometimes employ his abilities to lie, cheat, and swindle. Once he knew what he wanted, he prided himself in always being able to see, almost immediately, all the different possible routes he could take to get it which, when combined with his knack for anticipating people's responses before they actually respond, gave him an almost 100% success rate. In short, he always got what he wanted, no ands ifs or buts.

And right now, lounging languidly on the couch, arms stretched out across the backrest on either side as if to claim the whole thing for himself, he knew exactly what he wanted, and she was right in front of him, in the form of one Kanzaki Nao. He watched as she flittered around the kitchen, adjusting the stove dials, lifting the lids of pots and peering into the oven, her movements so fast it almost seemed like she was in multiple places at the same time. Her cream-colored dress was simple but elegant, ending just above her knees in a clean horizontal cut, with cherry blossom designs weaving sensually down one side, accentuating the soft curves of her body. On anyone else, it would have just been a normal pretty dress, but on innocent Nao it was almost lascivious. As if to compensate for the promiscuity of it, she wore a modest brown cardigan on top, which, if anything, made her look even more attractive. Even the hideous shocking neon pink apron with frilly black lace edgings added to her appeal, in a clashing, only-Nao-could-pull-it-off sort of way.

Or, the voice in the corner of his mind commented snidely, maybe you're just acting like a creepy rapist stalker. He ignored it.

Oh yes, Akiyama knew what he wanted. Now the question was how he was going to get it. It really wasn't that hard of a goal to achieve. After all, if his observations of her were correct, the slight shiver that ran up her body whenever he was in her personal space, the hint of uncertainty and confusion in her expression when they maintained eye contact for too long, the way her eyes lit up and her aura almost sparkled when he showed up randomly at her door tonight, she was just as attracted to him as he was to her. He was just better at hiding it. With this knowledge, he actually had the upper hand because he had already calculated that the chances of his advances getting rejected were close to zero.

As he watched, she suddenly stood on her tiptoes, trying to reach for something in one of the upper cupboards. His musings came to an abrupt halt as his brain overloaded at the sight of her ass flaunted out in his direction, stretching and filling the back of her dress until it was tight and round, just begging to be touched. Luckily, despite that most of his blood was currently rushing downwards towards another certain part of his body, the cerebral short circuit was fixed in the matter of seconds. His mental computer quickly recalculated everything, taking into account the newest information, and it suddenly occurred to him that, being the gentleman that he was, he should use his advantageous height to help the beautiful damsel in distress.

Pushing himself up onto his feet in one fluid motion, he stealthily stalked over in his usual slouch, hands in his pockets until he was standing directly behind her. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he pressed up against her unsuspecting back, bit by bit, body part by body part, in succession, from their legs all the way up to his chest against her shoulders. The effect was immediate: she stiffened and froze into an immobile statue.

Chuckling silently at her predictable response, he took one hand out his pocket, slid it leisurely from her shoulder to her neck, and started to knead the muscles there, starting out gentle but with increasing pressure. After five rubs or so, the magic worked when she released all the tension in her body with one big shudder. Without stopping his one-handed massage, he reached up with his other hand and easily grabbed what she was trying to get from the shelf, making sure that in the process he was pressed more firmly against her. Bringing it down, he bent his head so that his lips grazed against her ear when he murmured, "here," before placing it in her hands, smirking in triumph at her sharp intake of breath.

She turned around, rotating within his arms until she was facing him, forcing him to draw back slightly to allow room for the object she clutched in her hands between. Even though her clothes and hair were still all neatly in place, she looked somewhat dishevelled with her wide questioning eyes and a flush that, he noted with interest, extended down her neck, past her collarbone, and disappeared under the horizontal neckline of her dress. His eyebrows drew together slightly as he stared at it, wondering idly just how far down it went. His eyes flickered down to the slight bit of thigh that was visible. No, the skin there was definitely normal coloured. That means the answer must lie under the dress, somewhere between the top and the bottom. His brain started riffling through the possible ways he could find out.

"Akiyama-san?"

The sound of her voice pierced through his digressing thoughts and startled, he dragged his eyes back up to her face. In his haste, he must have let his usual expressionless mask slip, because her questioning eyes widened in surprise. A very awkward silence settled between them as she tried to make sense of the whole situation, and he tried to figure out what damage had been done and whether it was repairable.

Then as if she had reached a satisfying conclusion, she relaxed and, to his horror, her face broke into that wide smile she always used after she had (wrongly) ascertained someone's 'pure' and 'most honourable' intentions. Her eyes were no longer clouded with emotions but shining with utmost trust and admiration.

"Akiyama-san, thank you for helping me!" Her disgustingly innocent tone of voice completely shattered what little of the mood was left still lingering between them. "Despite your poker face, you're really a very kind person, aren't you?"

No! No! No! His brain screamed childishly while the voice in the corner snickered, something about getting what he deserved. This wasn't supposed to happen! No normal person would have interpreted that as being helpful!

Unfortunately, he knew better than anyone else that Kanzaki Nao was anything but normal. If she was, he wouldn't be so obsessively fascinated with her.

"But…I was trying to get the magazines, not the paintbrush," she added, holding out the brush in her hands for him to take back.

He stared at her blankly for a moment before reaching out to take it and put it back on the shelf, still trying to process the sudden turn of events. By this time, she had slid herself out sideways and was now standing beside him, waiting expectantly for her magazines. He took them down and gave them to her, and she went back to her cooking, their brief interaction already classified and filed away safely under the "Evidence That Akiyama-san Is Kind" category in her mental computer.

It wasn't till much, much later that he realized the kitchen cupboard was a very strange place to store magazines and paintbrushes.

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