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“What are you doing?”
“Um!” Mikan looks up to see her girlfriend the Ultimate Fashionista standing over her, one hand shielding her stormy blue eyes from the glare of the sun. “I….” She glances down to her hands and the molded mismatch of sandy shapes between them. Sand coats her fingers, stuck beneath her shorn nails, but she doesn’t mind. She’d needed those bits of nail to dig grooves along her creation. “Making a sandcastle.”
“Don’t you want to swim? The ocean’s right there.” Junko thrusts a hand out and gestures wildly towards it.
Mikan can’t see the motion, can only see the shadows Junko’s movements cast against the sand, since she’s avoiding looking at her, knowing that she’ll only see disappointment or annoyance on her girlfriend’s the Fashionista’s face. “I…I can’t,” she forces out, face flushing a brilliant red.
“Huh?” Junko bends down lower and cocks her head to one side. “What did you say? You gotta speak up, or I won’t—”
“I can’t swim!” Mikan squeaks out, shrill as steam bursting through a tea kettle’s spout. Her hands clench into fists and instinctively come up in front of her chest as she hunches forward, prepared for a smack on the back of her head. “I-I-I’m s-s-sorry!”
Mikan waits for Junko to say something, but she doesn’t say anything. What’s worse is that she doesn’t do anything either, like she’s frozen by what Mikan’s said. Sweat trickles down Mikan’s back. “I-I-I’m sorry!” she repeats in that same squeaking tone. “I know you…you planned this great…this great—” (Date.) “—outing, and I! I didn’t want to! Didn’t want to s-s-say anything! You were so…so e-e-excited, a-a-and I didn’t…didn’t want to—”
Junko plops down in the sand next to her, bare legs splayed out on either side, her toes just touching Mikan’s, manicured toenails bright red against the golden beige of the sand. “So we’re making sandcastles, then. You wanna make one big castle, or can we, like, make an entire village?”
Mikan blinks twice and looks up hesitantly to meet Junko’s eyes. “Wha-wha-huh?”
“If we make an entire village, then we can pretend to be dragons or giants or something and smash through all of them later!” Junko’s eyes light up, and a huge grin splashes across her face.
“Um!” Mikan’s fingers begin to tap together, and she drops her gaze, unable to keep looking at the light in Junko’s eyes. “Y-y-you’re not…you’re not mad at me?”
Junko shakes her head so quick that her twintails slap back and forth on her face. “Nope!” Then she reaches over and takes Mikan’s hand in hers, interlacing their fingers before giving her a gentle squeeze. “I love making sandcastles. It’s my favorite thing to do at the beach!” She leans forward, so close that Mikan can feel her breath hot on her face. “How did you know?”
“I-I-I—”
She’s playing with her. Probably. No one asks their girlfriend friend someone out to spend a day at the beach and then expects to just sit in the sand all day making sandcastles. They ask them to the beach to go play in the ocean! (And, if it’s a large enough group, to play sand volleyball.) Sure, there’s a lot more to do at the beach than swimming in the ocean – sandcastles, of course, and sunbathing and people watching (which Mikan has done frequently on beach trips, when everyone else goes swimming – or because no one else really wants her around) and collecting seashells, but….
Mikan turns away from Junko, takes her hand away from her girlfriend’s the Fashionista’s, and clasps her hands together in her lap. “You really…really don’t mind?” She presses her lips together again. “Th-th-that I don’t….” Her voice trails off, and her gaze falls again.
“I mean, not going to lie, it kind of sucks because it’s fucking hot out here, and the ocean’s the best fucking way to cool off.” Junko grabs her ankles and leans back, tilting her head to look up at the bright blue sky. “But.” She glances over to Mikan and grins, one of her canines just poking out over her lips. “I still get to see you in a swimsuit,” she says, reaching over and running a finger up Mikan’s waist, “so I can forgive your little…indiscretion.”
As Junko brushes her finger ice cold along Mikan’s skin, Mikan flinches. “S-s-sorry,” she whispers, gaze lifting just enough to take in Junko and what she’s wearing. Junko’s swimsuit leaves little to the imagination, nothing more than strings in most places, perfectly fitting of the Ultimate Fashionista. They should take pictures of her like this (they probably already have); they should make sand sculptures in her honor and place them in museums so that future generations can—
“Mikan,” Junko murmurs, reaching up and gently lifting Mikan’s chin, “my eyes are up here.”
“S-s-sorry—” Mikan barely squeaks the word out, until she notices that Junko has lifted her gaze so that it falls on her lips, not on her eyes. She swallows. “J-J-Junko-sama…?”
“Hm?” Junko purrs.
Mikan’s gaze flits up to meet her girlfriend’s eyes and then back down. She licks her lips. “M-m-may…may I…?”
“Always.” But as Mikan leans towards her, Junko holds up a finger and places it on her lips, brow furrowing. “But if you ask if you should take your clothes off while we’re in public, we’re gonna have a problem, because that’s kind of nasty. I love a good fucking sicko, but—”
Mikan kisses her fingertip.
“—not in public.” Junko leans forward and brushes her nose against Mikan’s. “Okay?”
Mikan kisses her and hums as she feels Junko smile against her lips. This is the best part of being together – being able to do things like this. She nearly pouts when Junko pulls away from her, although that expression disappears in her fear that Junko will be displeased with her.
“Sandcastles,” Junko murmurs against her lips. “We were going to make sandcastles.” She taps the top of the building Mikan was crafting when we found her. “And we’re going to put a little you and a little me right here at the top of the biggest one.”
“I-I-I thought you said we were going to…going to destroy them—”
“Well, sure.” Junko flashes her a grin. “World’s not big enough for two of me, even if one of them’s in miniature!” She brushes a kiss against Mikan’s cheek before whispering in her ear, “You’d probably love multiple of me, though, huh? Two of me to pay you such good attention—”
“N-n-no!” Mikan says in a near panic, eyes wide as she draws back from Junko. “I j-j-just…I just want you, Junko-sama! Just you.” Her gaze drops. “There can’t…there can’t ever be another you.”
Junko runs her fingers through Mikan’s hair and brushes it back behind one ear. “Sure there can,” she murmurs, “but it’s nice to hear you say that.” Then she grins again and digs her fists into the sand. “Let’s build! I’m sure you won’t believe this, but I’m fantastic at building sandcastles!”
(She’s fantastic at destroying them, too, but Mikan doesn’t learn that until later, when they’re dancing barefoot in the sand, just before Junko drags her to the open waves to rinse off their feet.)