Normally, you had no problem with Roland coming over to your house while you were out - he generally didn't do too much damage, and besides, you had an extreme crush on him. Today, however, you had just arrived home, opened your door, and nearly been blasted back outside from the sheer volume of some electric guitar music. Immediately, you blamed Roland. No evidence needed; who else would it be?

"Roland!" you shouted, storming into the living room, where (sure enough) Roland had his favourite electric guitar plugged into an amp that was turned up way too high. Sadly, your voice was drowned out by the music, and as Roland's back was to you, he didn't see you come in.

Going with everybody's plan B, you picked up a nearby book and smacked him on the back of the head with it. He gave a none-too-manly shriek that you knew he would deny if you brought up and dropped his guitar, leaving a sudden silence that almost knocked you down again.

"Roland, you idiot!" you snapped. "What do you think you're doing?!"

He turned around and gave you a skeptical look. "I'm pretty sure zhat it's called playing music, (Y/N)."

"And I'm pretty sure it's called disturbing the peace," you snapped, kneeling down and unplugging his guitar from the amp, just in case he got any ideas. "Seriously, do you play like that at your house?"

"Sometimes," he shrugged, then smirked at you. "Hey, angel, did you drop in from heaven to see me?"

"Hey, demon-boy, did you crawl into my house from the Inferno?" you countered, making him frown in disappointment. You picked up his successfully silenced guitar and handed it to him. "Here. Now you can play whatever you want."

"But-" He stared at his amp, and you raised your book threateningly again.

"No," you said sternly. "I'm okay with you playing your guitar. I am not okay with you shattering my windows. Or causing the neighbors to think an earthquake hit."

"Fine." He accepted the guitar, and you flopped down on the couch. "Vant to hear a love song?" he added in a flirtatious purr.

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, there's a lot of those in rock," you said sarcastically.

"You'd be surprised, angel." Instead of playing something, he sat down next to you. "I could play somezhing zhat vould have you chasing after me."

You gave him a look. "Yeah, with a knife. Roland, can't you find someone else to use your empty flirtation on?"

"Excuse me?" He looked genuinely angry. "It's not empty! I really like you, but someone is just too high and mighty to notice, aren't you?"

Your mind promptly short-circuited and went blank. "You . . . you really . . . what?"

"Oh?" His scowl was quickly replaced by a fresh smirk. "Vas my assumption premature?"

Your brain clicked back into motion. "Yes, I dare say it was," you said, narrowing your eyes at him. "I do like you. I can't believe an oblivious idiot like you has the nerve to imply that I'm oblivious."

"Aha - I knew no one could resist my charms," he declared, wrapping his arms about your waist and drawing you closer. "Least of all a smoking hot angel like you~"

"Oh, please - you couldn't resist me," you snorted. "I'm betting that's why you're always in my house. You don't see me breaking down your door."

"You're certainly a devilish angel," he commented coolly.

"Maybe I'm okay with that," you said, matching his smirk. "Are you going to sit there or kiss me?"

His answer was to swiftly press his lips to yours.