You and Thatch had gone back and forth on him staying home from work or not, and in the end it was decided he would stay. You knew the NWO agents were going to pay you a visit, and you didn't really want to deal with them on your own.

Texting your parents first thing in the morning, you let them know Thatch was staying home from work, and that you had convinced him you'd fallen off a chair while trying to dust. You didn't talk about the hospital, or the visit from the agents at the manor, just that you knew they were going to visit you today.

Parents: Did your date plans change?

You look over at Thatch and he makes a face.

"Not even a word about..." Clenching his jaw for a second he sighs. "Everything's still bought, if you think you can manage it, we can stick with the-, er, we can still go." He says, stopping himself before he says the word plan.

You: No. We're still leaving Friday night.

Parents: Good.

You close the phone and tuck it away and Thatch tilts his head.

"That was it?" You look up at him at the question and his confusion shifts to something else. "Seems so. Ah, I'll change your bandages and make some breakfast, come on."

Thatch made breakfast after checking your wrist, and putting a fresh bandage on your face. Something about the text exchange was bugging him, but you weren't sure how to ask, and he didn't seem ready to talk about it. It wasn't causing any tension between the two of you as you ate, so you didn't worry about it.

After breakfast you both had too much nervous energy building up, and so Thatch decided to take stock of the kitchen. He gave you a pad of paper and a pen.

"Oh, can you write?" He questions, pointing to your wrist.

"Yes, I'm practiced in writing with either hand." You assure him, taking the pen with your uninjured hand.

"The way you say that," Thatch sighs, letting his thoughts on the matter drop. "Alright, I'll start with the fridge. I'm just going to say what we have, and you write it down for me." He gives you a smile as concern flashes across your face. "I won't go as fast as I would at work."

Thatch begins, listing off things at a slow pace. He's checking expiration dates while he works through things, and that's giving you enough time to write down what he's listing off before he moves to the next thing. Whenever you hesitate to start writing something, Thatch automatically spells it for you, which was helpful when you weren't even really sure what a kumquat was in the first place.

"Two pomegranates," Thatch grabs them, looking them over for a second while you write.

"Can we eat one?" You question. Thatch turns to see you looking over at him expectantly and he smiles.

"Sure, I usually juice them, but there's nothing wrong with eating them." He grabs one and straightens up, looking back down into the fruit drawer, and grabbing a bunch of bananas before closing it. "I'm going to put these in the freezer. I had them chilling in here for bread making Friday, with the date this weekend I'll get to that Sunday, but that covers everything in that drawer anyway."

"You like pomegranates?" He questions, setting the fruit down on the counter and pulling out a large glass bowl.

"I've had the juice, but my mother insisted they were too much of a hassle to eat fresh." You explain. "I'm just... curious."

"To be fair, they're not the easiest fruits to prep." He explains, filling the bowl with water. "But they're not a hassle." Thatch scores the fruit in four places and then puts it in the bowl of water, cracking it open easily and brushing the little seeds free with practiced ease.

"Oh." You gasp softly, watching the little beads come free. "They're pretty." Thatch smiles, but doesn't say anything, pulling the pith and rind out of water and using a slotted spoon to transfer the seeds to a smaller bowl.

Drying off his hands, he sets the bowl down in front of you, grabbing one of the pieces and popping the whole thing in his mouth. "There you go. They pop a bit in your mouth, so-."

You were already eating one, and put your hands over your lips when the fruit burst in your mouth just as he was trying to warn you. You're sure the small surprise was written all over your face, and Thatch is trying not to laugh.

"Another?" He prompts, absolutely delighted.

"... Yes, please." You reach out and take another, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as he watches you. This time you're expecting it, and even so it's still a bit surprising how easily it pops in your mouth, despite not shattering between your fingers when you pick one up. "It's delicious. Tart."

"Yeah, they're not super sweet like some fruits." He grabs a small handful, tossing it into his mouth and turning away, going back into the kitchen to clean the big bowl. You carefully grab a small handful as well, mimicking Thatch's movements.

There's bits of red stained on your hand, but you imagine it's unavoidable. "What's the strangest thing you've ever eaten?"

"Hm, that's a hard question to answer." Setting the bowl to dry, he turns and leans against the sink ledge. "One man's oddity is another man's bread and butter, but deep fried butter isn't something I think I'll try a second time."

"Deep fried... in butter?"

"Nope. Chunks of butter, breaded and fried. Deep fried butter." He clarifies, smiling as your confusion turns to horror. "It was delicious, but a bit of a butter overload."

"I think my mother would've fainted if someone had served that to us at a function." You muse softly.

"... I could make some for the reception." Thatch offers, smiling when you look up at him. "Just in case."

You pause for a second, the ingrained response of needing to defend your parents bubbling up before you manage to laugh a little. "It would be, ah... mischievous."

"That's the spirit," Thatch beams. There's a knock at the door and the air shifts between you. He pats your hand before going over and answering it.

"Ah, Mr. Edward, I expected to see you." You could hear Kaku from the hall. "May we come in?"

"Certainly," Thatch says flatly, stepping back and letting the two in. You stand up as they come into view and give a small bow. "We can sit at the dining table, or the living room."

"Ah, I was hoping to speak to Miss Kakusho privately." Kaku says it sheepishly, but there's no real apology in his tone.

"W-why?" You feel something bubbling up inside you, but you aren't sure what to do with it.

"I have learned that people are more honest by themselves." Kaku says. "I promise I will not touch you, or raise my voice. If Mr. Edward would step outside with my partner, you can go to him at any point."

You look at Thatch and he gives you a reassuring smile. "They'll be happier if I step out, doll, it'll be okay."

"I... don't like it, but if you think I'll lie because of him, then we can do it your way." You can feel yourself stuffing down a heated anger that keeps wanting to bubble up. The idea that Thatch has bullied you in someway makes you angrier than you knew you could get.

"Splendid." Kaku smiles and holds his arm out toward the living room. "Shall we?" You head toward the couch, looking over your shoulder as Thatch and Lucci step out into the hallway.

"He won't eat him," Kaku assures you. "I doubt they'll even talk. Lucci's not a fan."

"Would you like something to drink?" You question, sitting down even as you ask. You don't mean it as a slight, but Kaku's guiding you to sit the same way your father often did, and you're moving automatically.

"No, I won't be long." He replies. "I would like to know how you got those injuries, Miss Kakusho."

"I don't -." You pause, breathe in deeply and let it out slowly. "What will you do about it?"

Kaku's brows raise before he smiles. "If your match did this to you, then I would need to move forward with the Rematch request your parents submitted."

"Thatch didn't cause these injuries." You answer evenly. "Can my parents legally force a rematch against my will?"

"Force one, no. But they can request an investigation on your behalf under certain circumstances." He clarifies. "Are you estranged from your parents?"

"I do not miss them." You answer as honestly as you can.

"Will you tell me how you were injured?"

"If it has nothing to do with Thatch, do I have to?" You look at him directly and see the surprise on his face. It fades into a smile that's almost warm, and he shakes his head.

"My partner would insist that you do, but legally no. My jurisdiction begins and ends within the lines of the Program. I could assist you in filing a report if needed, but I cannot guarantee anything else." He smiles as he says it, and you actually think it's a genuine expression.

He's not irritated and simply trying to hide it, and you can feel the tension easing out of your own limbs in response. You're very glad between the two of them, it was Kaku who stayed in here with you.

"Then there's no point." You assert. "I don't wish to sate your curiosity with my woes, sir."

"Alright." Kaku says easily. "Is there anything you do want to tell me?"

You consider it for a moment. "I don't know that I've ever been this happy before," you sigh. "The idea that my parents can take that away scares me, but you can only do your job, and I can only do so much."

Kaku's almost constant smile falters a little and the soft smile that replaces it feels less professional and more personal. "You're not wrong, ma'am, but I'll keep what you've said in mind, if your parents come and file another concerned request."

"I appreciate that," you stand up as Kaku does, the both of you heading toward the door. You open it for him and smile. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Kaku."

Kaku smiles, inclining his head toward you. "It was a pleasure Miss Kakusho." He turns toward Thatch as he steps into the hall, giving him his professional smile. "You have a good partner, sir," he turns back to you. "Ma'am. Thank you for your time."

The two of them walk away and you look over at Thatch for a moment before he comes back into the apartment. After the door closes, he lets out a big sigh, shoulders falling as the tension rolls off him.

"I've never seen someone stand so completely stone still so angrily before." He lets the loss of tension take him down to his knees, holding his arms out and letting you walk into the hug he needs. His head is against your stomach, his large hands on your back. It's warm, and he practically engulfs you completely, but it's a tender and comfortable gesture.

"Kaku was very kind," you say reassuringly, one hand resting on his arm, the other patting the side of his head softly. "He wasn't scary at all."

"Good," Thatch tightens his hug for a second before easing up and leaning back to look up at you. "You're okay then?"

Smiling, you nod, the backs of your knuckles brushing against the side of his face. It's an intimate gesture and you don't realize how much so until Thatch's eyes close and he leans into it. Shifting your hand you let him nuzzle his cheek into the palm of your hand.

You're suddenly struck with an understanding that Thatch would be more likely to throw himself out a window than hurt you. Not that you had ever felt concerned about your safety around him, but having this massive man melt into your hand was a bit of a epiphany.

The movement of your hand is gentle, but you lift his face up as you lean down toward him. Thatch's eyes are deep, dark green, almost black from how relaxed his hooded gaze is. His eyes are on your lips, your gaze shifts from his eyes to his lips, catching the brief slip of his tongue that moves between them. Neither of you say anything, the moment seems so fragile he's almost afraid to breathe.

You lean in, the motion is smooth, but it's not Thatch that closes the distance. He's warm and relaxed, but he's still. If he moves he's going to scoop you up and kiss you with more passion than you may be ready for.

More than you could safely handle with your injuries.

The small distance between you disappears and the warm tingle on your lips is pressed in deeper when you kiss him. There's a sweet shiver that rolls down your back and makes your lips part in a soft sigh. You can feel his fingers twitch against your back and you kiss him again, not wanting the sigh to end your first kiss so soon.

His hand shifts up your back carefully, and leans in, returning the kiss gently, as restrained as he can manage, forcing every fiber of his body to relax. Thatch keeps his lips closed, but not pressed so tightly as to deny you. He wants to leave you to lead, but he wants to be sure you know he's enjoying the exchange.

He doesn't want you to think he's reciprocating because of the Match Program, or anything else. He's been dying for this moment since he saw your first photo, and it couldn't be any more perfect.

You lean back and break the kiss, dizzy from how hard your heart has started to pound. Your face is flushed, heated and beyond any hope of control on your end. Embarrassment pulls at your hazy expression and Thatch smiles softly, pulling you into a warm hug. His ear against your chest, hearing the fluttering of your heart that mimics his own.

He could drink in that adorable expression for eternity, but it was better to spare you - and himself. At least for now.