Work Text:
Glove
“As usual, Sakura-chan, that blue dress is absolutely fetching on you!” Tomoyo says, elated with pride. She scurries across the floor to her wardrobe and fusses with the objects on the table. “One last addition!”
Sakura is dizzy with the measurements and adjustments. Still, she must keep her chin high until Tomoyo presents every piece of it, because of course she worked hard. She always loves every detail.
Wobbling on her feet, she reaches out to steady herself in the puffy dress’s train. Tomoyo catches her hand. A new pair of dainty light blue gloves push past the tips of her fingers, the curve of her knuckles, and the palm of her hand, until her hand is swathed in durable softness. The fabric stretches above the bend of her wrist.
“I really like them,” Sakura says.
Tomoyo lifts her hand. She places a chaste kiss to the back of the glove, appreciative of the graceful beauty Sakura emanates with the glove on.
“Gloves are tricky,” Tomoyo admits. “But Sakura-chan has really beautiful hands, and they fill out any glove perfectly.”
Sakura’s fingers slowly curl inwards. The glove covers her skin and yet the warmth of her kiss tingles on her skin. Despite the hectic dress fitting, she is thankful she held out for the best moment.
First
Tomoyo’s eyes are mesmorizing, and Sakura can’t take her eyes away. She kicks at the step that leads up to the front door of her house. The faint light inside the house gives her comfort; she can see her better in the darkness. Her throat is dry with anticipation, her hand settled on her shoulder. She is ready, but she is also terrified she will mess it up.
Kisses are always the pinnacle of a date night. Endings for romantic shoujo manga had taught Sakura that lesson, anyway.
The execution of such kisses, that is…
“We can go slow. Or, if you... If you’re too nervous and worried, Sakura-chan—“
“I want to!” Sakura insists. “I really do. I have to… It’ll be okay… It’ll be okay!”
Her voice is too sharp for her ears, and Tomoyo winces slightly. Happy, Tomoyo patiently smiles. Her eyes soften. She hovers close, though she hesitates again. Not because second thoughts bother her. Many different scenarios race in her imagination, her mind’s eye on fire.
Sakura tilts her head back and forth, and she opens her mouth and shuts it again. What is the perfect position for this!?
“Hey, Sakura-chan.”
Sakura pauses. Their gazes catch once more and she melts. This time, however, Tomoyo wraps a hand around her waist, and she pulls her against her. Carefully, so, so carefully, she presses her body against her front. She kisses her.
Fireworks burst to life in her head and ring relentlessly. Something deep inside her is upset she couldn’t bring herself to go naturally along with the flow. Yet Sakura’s misforgivings wash away with silky movements of her lips on hers.
Firsts have many different perfects.
Rain
“Ready to go home?” Sakura asks, popping her umbrella open wide.
“Of course!” Tomoyo says. She shuffles her school bag on her shoulder. “I can’t wait to work on homework all evening.”
While they walked down the sidewalk, droplets pour down. Sakura rearranges the umbrella in her hand. When she believes she has it in the best position above their heads, a gust of wind blows. She reins the umbrella’s top back in.
“It’s windy,” Sakura sighs, checking to make sure Tomoyo is not getting wet.
Tomoyo hums. “Let me hold it.”
“No, it’s okay,” Sakura replies.
Tomoyo plucks the umbrella from her hand and twists it around in her grasp. Quizzically, Sakura looks at her and wonders why, but she shrugs. Tomoyo bumps against her shoulder and there is a comfortable silence between them.
Before they continue walking, though, Tomoyo pecks her on the cheek.
Sakura side-steps into a puddle near her foot. Her feet are immediately cold with water, but her cheeks make up for it with the warmth of giddy embarrassment.
“You’re so close to me under here,” Tomoyo says with a note of mischievous playfulness. “I just couldn’t resist.”
Worry
After Sonomi welcomes her in the house with welcome arms and explains Tomoyo is in her room, Sakura does not expect to see her friend slumped over head-first.
The sewing machine sits before Tomoyo. A hat is trapped under the machine’s needle, as though held captive there – not moving, not full of life or energy. It is a creation in mid-process unattended to.
“Tomoyo-chan?” Sakura asks her, voice quiet. She does not want to startle her.
Tomoyo sits bolt upright. She covers her eyes for a second with the back of her hand, furiously wiping her eyelids.
Sakura’s breath hitches.
“I didn’t finish it in time for you to use it.“ Tomoyo snatches the hat from the sewing machine. She yanks on it, and the stitches snap with the rough treatment.
Sakura’s heart stings at the sight. Using her magic is spontaneous; she couldn’t help that another card needed her.
Racing from the doorway, Sakura grabs her hand before she takes the hat out of view. She catches a loose thread on the hat between her fingers. The hat hangs off Tomoyo’s lap. It hits the chair’s leg.
“It’s not your fault you couldn’t be there today. You didn’t fall short in helping me out,” Sakura tells her, locking eyes. “You wouldn’t have made it in time. I called you about what happened afterwards.”
“I know,” Tomoyo says. Unshed tears shine in her eyes now. “But I want to have everything prepared for when you do use your magic! I was going to give this to you yesterday, but I hit a snag.” She lifts the hat and sets it on her lap, strokes the pointy tip, bites her lip. “I-I wish it could have been done faster. You are my greatest inspiration. I d-don’t understand why… I wish I… Sooner…”
Sakura’s elbow rests on the desk edge. Her lips meet Tomoyo’s and refuse to leave until the message is clear as day. The film of tears in her eyes retreat.
“Your outfits take longer because I am your inspiration, right?” Sakura smiles. She plays with the edge of the broken threads and loops it around Tomoyo’s wrist. “Things we love take creativity. That’s the outfit I want to wear from Tomoyo-chan; you never give me less than the best. That makes it okay.”
Raising her head slightly, Tomoyo tugs on the thread connecting them. She nods.
Cake
“Wow, Tomoyo-chan,” Sakura breathes, shoveling another mouthful of spongy goodness into her mouth, “I can’t believe how delicious the wedding cake is.”
Tomoyo’s body twitches in her chair. She resists the uncontrollable urge to grab the camera sitting under the table, aim the lens, and record Sakura eating the cake. But she must keep her promise. Today, she will restrain herself from daydreams. After all, happily living the memory of her wedding day is unmistakably precious.
“Now ya appreciate my impeccable taste,” Kero says. Plopping down on the table cloth, he sets a plate across from them. He stabs a fork into strawberry cream, a dark cherry blossom design on the top of his giant piece. “I helped choose it!”
“Tomoyo-chan picked the design,” Sakura points out, waving her fork in his face.
“Presentation is important, but taste is what sends ya over the moon, Sakura!”
“Well…”
Sakura’s cheeks puff out indignantly, but Tomoyo giggles. She will not deny that, even after vigorous taste tests, they had given Kero’s expert opinion on cake the most weight in their final decision. A shabby cake without flair would not pass the test for his mistress’ wedding day.
“Oh, yeah.” Sakura gestures her fork at the plate in front of Tomoyo. “You haven’t touched your cake yet. What’s wrong?”
“Absolutely nothing!” Tomoyo says. She shakes her head in conviction. Cake is easy to forget when she has to record Sakura’s smiling face in eternal memory. Speaking of Sakura… A crumb of the sponge cake lingered on her cheek.
Kero is completely engrossed in stuffing his small face. The opportunity arises.
Tomoyo pushes their chairs close together without Sakura noticing. She swipes her tongue across the crumb on her cheek and then the plush surface of her lips, ushering in the tart burst of strawberry sweeter than cake itself.
Sakura’s eyes widen mid-bite. “Tomoyo-chan!” She blushes. Her knuckles turn white as she clutches her fork, hard.
Tomoyo can’t believe how lucky she is. Second-hand cake is the best flavor.
“Kero-chan is right,” Tomoyo whispers. “It’s paradise. I leapt over the moon.”