Chapter Text
Date is reclined on the bed when Iris enters the room. She crosses the floor to hand him a bag of ice, which he accepts with an apologetic grimace. It rustles as he presses it against his knee, but not loudly enough to mask the pained hitch in his breath.
“Honestly, Date, I thought even you would know better than to run down a mountain at night.” The judgment in Aiba’s voice is apparent. Date doesn’t care for it.
Hey, aren’t you the one who told me to get more exercise?
“No, I believe that was you, actually. I merely provided a clinical recommendation. I didn’t say you had to start today.”
Date rolls his eyes, hoping the motion rattles Aiba a bit too. He looks back at Iris, perched beside him on the edge of the bed, and feels a question niggling at the back of his brain.
“Hey.” He nudges Iris’s hand to get her attention. “Did you really mean what you said? About thinking older men are sexy?” Do you think I’m sexy?
Iris shoots him a knowing smile. “Of course! Older men are sexy. They’re strong and wise and mature and more experienced…” One by one, she rattles off a list of imaginary traits, tracing a line over Date’s mangled knuckles to count them.
He shakes his head and cuts her off. “You’re gonna get yourself hurt if you chase after old guys. There’s a lot of perverts out there.”
This makes Iris burst into laughter. “No, you’re the one who got hurt chasing me!” she protests back.
Unhelpfully, Aiba replays the scene in her AI Sight: Date losing his footing on a tree root and skidding down the path for several meters, only to come to a halt when his knee slammed into a particularly large stone. Iris had been so far ahead that she hadn’t even noticed—that is, until she heard the cussing.
In the real world, Iris crawls closer to Date and lays beside him on the bed. “And anyways,” she teases, “you’re the biggest pervert I know. And I know you would never hurt me.” She gives his sternum a firm poke, which feels like it cuts straight to his core.
Although Date’s voice replies with an absentminded “yeah,” his mind backtracks seven years into the past. His own words to Hitomi echo through his brain: “I don’t care if it’s zombies or aliens or whatever else. I will defend you and Iris with my life!”
Even though he was a different person when he said it, Date knows a promise is a promise.
He takes Iris’s hand in his own and fixes his gaze on her kind blue eyes. He holds her there for a long moment, watching as her smile fades into something softer.
“Iris.” His voice is somber. He pauses, trying to shape his question into words. “What… are we?”
It sounds like a line from of one of the high school dramas that Iris and Mizuki like to watch. Date feels a pang of annoyance at himself for being so dramatic, but the question is the right one to ask.
Iris thinks for a moment, tapping her thumb against Date’s index finger. “Well…” she muses, “when I first saw you, it was like… my old Uncle was back. Except… you’re not really him, are you? I mean, you are.”
Date swallows. Uncle. He’s not sure he likes where she’s going.
“You’re kind of like my Uncle. Except… I never really got to know you. The real you. This you. Kaname Date.” Iris leans in closer, tilting her face up towards his as she says his name. “I spent a really long time searching for you. But things are different now, and that’s okay. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
It’s not Date’s knee that hurts, but rather his chest. Something raw and visceral squeezes around his lungs.
Iris’s breath smells like trail mix and sports drink. Her plush, pink lips are close enough that Date could kiss them.
He could, but he doesn’t. Instead, he tilts his head just enough so that their foreheads touch. He feels the warmth of her skin against his, transferring energy and kindness to his aching soul.
“That’s true,” he concedes. “You’re not a little girl anymore.” How many nights had they spent like this—adorable Iris curled against his side as he narrated a book she was perfectly capable of reading herself? How much had changed in seven years?
Unperturbed by nostalgia, Iris gains fresh motivation. Her eyes light up, eager and devious. She rises to her knees, throwing one leg over Date’s body so she can straddle his lap.
“Yeah!” she agrees, her voice bright with enthusiasm. “I’m over the age of consent and I can do what I want!” Her hands practically buzz as they roam over Date’s shoulders. “And you know what I want, right?”
Time seems to slow, as if in a somnium. The question hangs in the air, lingering in the narrow space between them. Iris’s pupils blow dark and wide as she stares down at her captive through her rosy pink bangs.
“I want you, Date.”
Shit.
Blood runs south. Date groans. His hands ball into fists as he resists the urge to touch her. “I want you too, Iris.” He can’t help himself. “But uh…” How did it come to this?
His heart thuds in his chest. He wants her. Badly.
“What did we say about calling me Date?”
It’s a risky move, but it does the trick. Iris’s eyes widen into saucers as she comprehends his meaning. A giggle escapes from her lips, which she bites back with pearly white teeth. Her fingers worry against the collar of Date’s shirt, tugging at it until a button pops loose.
Her voice drops low, more like a purr than a whisper. Her breath ghosts over Date’s lips as she leans in. “Can I have a goodnight kiss, Daddy?”
The effect is instantaneous. Date’s vision blurs and he can’t pull Iris down fast enough. His mouth clamps down tight over hers, rough stubble grazing over satin perfection. In his haste to consume her, he kicks the ice pack off his leg. The spark of pain does nothing to deter his hungry conquest.
Iris kisses back, her entire body collapsing into Date’s. She whimpers when his hands wriggle their way beneath her hoodie, his fingers mapping out each vertebrae of her spine as it arches towards him. Her body is smooth, supple, lithe against his. Fully adult, but undeniably Iris. Beautiful, vibrant Iris. His baby girl.
Mine.
Date pulls away just long enough to growl, “you can have anything you want, baby.” Iris’s lips part in a gasp and he uses the opportunity to breach her mouth with his tongue.