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A Nightingale Sang

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One of the amusing things about having only a slight familial resemblance is getting taken for a couple all the time. When Ran automatically starts to correct them, Aya grasps his arm tighter and giggles. No, don't tell them - it's cute.

They're walking through Bloomsbury back to the shop holding hands, like couples do, and Aya basks in the thought that everyone walking by them thinks they're just any happy couple enjoying the London winter. Ran always rolls his eyes at Aya's insistence on public displays of affection, but holds her hand tightly anyway.

There's an elderly couple walking down the other side of the street towards them, wearing matching brightly-coloured waterproof jackets. The woman gives them the once-over and smiles the smile given by the elderly to the young in love.

"You and your young man have a nice evening!" she calls, and Aya, catching the tone if not all the meaning, beams back. Then she leans up to kiss Ran's cheek, just because; he bears it stoically.

After all, she thinks, looking forward to getting back so she can get Ran out of his thick woolly jumper and kiss him properly, they're not actually wrong.