What if Aaron Warner's sunshine daughter fell for Kenji Kishimoto's grumpy son?
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This fanfic takes place almost 20 years after Believe me. Aaron and Juliette had a Daughter named Emmaline Leila Warner. Kenji and Nazeera had a son named Kai Kishimot...
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"What do you mean?" I asked Emmaline with a tilt of my head, watching her shrug and cross her arms on the bed next to me.
"What? We've never been on a date."
"Nev— no— yes, we have?" I jerked my head back with a smile, "what do you mean?"
"I mean you never took me out since we started dating."
"That's— alright, that's a big lie because I did take you out," I sat up straight to face her, my eyebrows lowering as I counted on my fingers, "do you not remember the building where we took our first photos as a couple, the bridge afterwards, the bridge again where I got you the locks that you wanted? The amusement park yesterday?"
"Okay, first of all two of those does not even count as you taking me out because the building was my idea—"
"Nope," I shook my head, cutting her off, "it absolutely wasn't. You didn't even remember until I showed you that awful drawing of yours, which by the way, where is it? I want it back."
"You're not getting back, it returned to its original owner, and yes, it was my idea because without my younger self promising that one day this will happen, it wouldn't have happened at all. Second of all and more importantly, the amusement park was for Jett, not me."
"But we hung out too!"
"Exactly, right here. We hung out," she made air quotes with her fingers before dropping her hand again, "it was never a date. You never told me hey, Emmaline, I'm taking you on a date, get ready."
"But isn't hanging out automatically turn into a date when the guy and the girl are together?"
"Of course not," she frowned, "it needs to be addressed as a date. No guy in my books would ever do that."
"Excuse me?" I raised an eyebrow, "you're comparing me to words on paper?"
"I'm not comparing you, I'm just saying my book boyfriends are perfect."
"Your what now?" My body tensed more as I fully turned to face her on the bed, "book what?"
"Boyfriends," she flashed me a smile, but my jaw clenched.
"What do you mean boyfriends? I'm your boyfriend. You can't have another one."
"Yeah, these are my book boyfriends."
"You can't have any type of boyfriends, that's called cheating," I crossed my arms when she chuckled, looking to my right at her bookshelf.
"Don't even think about touching any of these books," she warned, her voice suddenly stern, "I'll seriously break up with you."
