A shorter update than I was intending, but it starts the goddamn year.
Enjoy!
Misato's gaze flicked from side to side as she ate her breakfast. For some reason, Shinji had taken his breakfast past the dance mats to the beanbag closest to the window, while Asuka was in the dining chair closest to the cooker and sink. "You're supposed to be doing everything together, you two." She paused, and noticed little dark patches growing in at the base of Asuka's hair. A tease sprang to her lips. "Asuka, your roots are show—"
No, wait. Asuka was genuinely a redhead. Misato knew that from her time in Germany.
Asuka looked... scared? "Don't tell Dr Akagi, all right? She'll just insist on poking and prodding at us both."
Misato pinched the bridge of her nose. She did not need this, not when the pilots had a training exercise to complete. "If you post good scores from your training today, I'll leave it be until after the Angel is dealt with."
Asuka frowned. "What if it's his fault?"
Misato began to doubt the wisdom of skipping her morning beer. "If there's any poking and prodding to be done she'll probably want both of you in the lab anyway."
Asuka's grip on her fork tightened, but she nodded. "Fine. Hear that, Shinji? If you mess up today the blonde is going to start poking us to find out what's up with my hair."
"Same if you mess up," he snapped back.
"Hmph."
Misato sighed and shook her head. She needed to get away before they drove her any crazier. She stood up, leaving her omelette half eaten, and grabbed the last piece of toast from the rack. "Work together, you two. We're counting on you."
Asuka watched Misato heading into the front hall, and waited for the sounds of the front door. "Get over here," she ordered, when she was sure Misato had gone.
"Why?" asked Shinji.
She glared at him. "You know why, ..." No. Calling him an idiot wouldn't actually help.
He smiled a little and got up from the beanbag. Asuka gritted her teeth as the emptiness became more intrusive with every step he took. She was not going to look weak in front of him.
He took the seat closest to her and laid his hand on the table. She looked down at it, weighing up her options, and laid her hand down on top of his. Nobody was watching to misinterpret it, after all. Finishing her breakfast one-handed was annoying, but it was worth it to not feel that emptiness nagging and gnawing away inside.
Shinji smiled at her. Why did he have to do that? It was like he wanted to make things complicated. She wasn't going to smile back at him, that was for sure. Even if touching his hand made life easier to handle.
Even if her stupid muscles twitched the corners of her mouth up. That was just because it felt odd to feel his smile clashing with her straight face.
"Those mats are too close together," she declared, when she'd finished her breakfast.
He looked over at them, then nodded. "We can't rearrange them, though. It's the only way they'll fit."
She took a deep breath. She had an idea. She didn't want to say it. Even if they both knew the reason for it, and it didn't mean anything, it would sound like something some sappy girl would be asking her boyfriend.
"We'll just have to put up with it," he said. "I guess we can make contact between stints."
Bastard. Who gave him permission to phrase it better than she was trying to?! "Yes. No funny business."
"No funny business."
Rei found her feelings about the day mixed.
In its favour, her clothes were tolerable against her skin. She would not be in danger of damaging them in her haste when she got home and undressed.
On the other hand, she was still more alert than she needed to be in Nebukawa-sensei's class, and she did not have the fascinating phenomenon of Asuka and Shinji's souls to hold her interest.
An idea occurred to her. It would mean spending more of the day clothed, but it might give her an opportunity to observe Shinji and Asuka some more. She typed a message. "Horaki-san, do you need someone to deliver Shinji and Asuka's work to them?"
"I was going to send Suzuhara-kun but if you want to, you can."
Rei couldn't help smiling.
