Work Text:
“You know,” Margarete said, looking at the spectrogram of their work-in-progress song on the screen of her tablet computer, “this melody they put together isn’t half bad. You know, for a bunch of amateurs, anyway.” She switched off the screen and laid down on Tomari’s bed, stretching her limbs and feeling her body float on top of the soft sheets. Taking a deep intake of breath through her nose, she smelled the unfamiliar yet pleasant scents of Tomari’s room as she rested her head against her host’s pillow.
Tomari leaned back in her chair, then rotated around until she faced Margarete. A text document was displayed on the obscenely-large monitor behind her. “I must admit that I am a bit bewildered by these lyrics,” Tomari said, then she looked down and adjusted her glasses before looking back at Margarete again. “I simply cannot comprehend them.”
Squinting, Margarete tried to peer at the words on the screen behind Tomari’s head, but they were a little too distant to read. “Ah, I know. Did someone save it in the wrong format?” Margarete picked up her tablet from the bed and gently waved it towards Tomari. “Kanon-senpai does that to me all the time. She’ll upload something to the shared drive, and I’ll try to read it on this thing, but then it complains about a wrong format and then I have to go down the hall and read it on her computer, and then she’ll just want to talk my ear off all night. I think she does it on purpose. It’s a right pain. Did I ever tell you that she’s a chronic hugger?”
Looking intrigued, Tomari glanced at the tablet computer in Margarete’s hand. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what brand of tablet computer is that?”
“Oh, this thing?” Not wanting to drop her precious work tool, Margarete gently placed her tablet down on the bed. “I guess you could say it fell into my lap. I was at the electronics store and I felt like a small animal in a forest, what with all the different kinds of mobile devices available in this country, and I ran into Heanna-senpai, and she highly recommended this Samsung Galaxy tablet. It’s quite nice.”
“I see.” Tomari spun around in her chair, then seemed to write something down on her desk before she turned around to face Margarete again, but this time, she kept her gaze on her own lap. “No, if it were a simple matter of damaged data, I could most assuredly write a program to fix it.” Closing her eyes, she shook her head. Undone from her usual braids, Tomari’s loose hair brushed gently against her shoulders. “This talk of emotions, it is beyond my ken. I cannot understand something I can’t measure.” She balled her hands into fists, scrunching up the material of her nightdress against her thighs. “And if I cannot understand these words, then I cannot sing them with proper effort.”
Margarete waved her hand towards the bedroom door. “Just go find Wakana-senpai and talk it out. You’re both nerds, I’m sure you can explore each other’s bodies until you find the answer.”
“That option is unavailable.” Picking her head up, Tomari finally looked at Margarete again. “She has gone out with sister dearest and the rest to procure snacks. They tried to invite you, but you had your earbuds in,” she said, pointing to her own ears.
Must’ve been when I was listening to the melody, Margarete thought. No wonder it was so quiet. She realized that this was one of the very few times when she found herself alone with Tomari. Despite living in two countries with different cultures, Margarete would be hard pressed to find anyone in either of them who was as awkward and inscrutable as Tomari. At least Onitsuka-senpai’s motivations were obvious, if crude; Tomari was like a closed book in comparison to her sister, and Margarete felt like she had only just begun to turn the pages. Margarete sighed through her nose. “And I suppose you don’t want to wait, eh?”
What looked like a hint of hope flashed across Tomari’s face. “Agreed.” She planted her feet on the floor, then rolled herself across the room, padding past the low table, until she reached the foot of her bed. “I hate wasting time.” Levering herself out of her chair with a grunt, Tomari climbed onto the bed. The bed softly squeaked under her weight as she crawled across the bed on her hands and knees, climbing further up Margarete’s body until Tomari’s hands were planted on either side of Margarete’s shoulders. She had the distinct feeling of being a bug pinned inside a specimen case, as Tomari looked down at her with cold eyes. Over the sound of the purring pump pushing the water around in Tomari’s jellyfish tank, Margarete could hear the timbre of their breathing in the suddenly too-quiet room. Framed jellyfish pictures peered down at them from the wall, frozen in place, just as she herself felt. This close, she could see specks of dust marring the lenses of Tomari’s glasses.
She’s observing me. Her mouth suddenly dry, Margarete licked her lips. Soft material brushed against her fingertips as she rubbed her sweaty palm across the bedsheet. “Anyway, what’s with this bed? It’s as hard as a tomb.”
“It has the ideal stiffness to promote proper posture,” Tomari said, who didn’t seem to need any help in being ramrod straight at all times. In fact, if Tomari ever set off a metal detector, it would surely be from the steel rod stuck up her… spine, Margarete mentally corrected herself. Don’t think about your fellow group member’s butt. Although, Margarete had caught more than a few glimpses of Tomari’s surprisingly toned body while changing before shows, which stood in particular contrast to Onitsuka-senpai’s more rounded curves. Tomari lifted a hand and began to slowly rub her palm against Margarete’s cheek.
Margarete felt her mouth involuntarily open. “What… are you doing?” Finding her voice muffled slightly by the pressure exerted on her jaw by Tomari’s hand, she hoped it masked the slight lilt of surprise in her tone.
Showing an impressive amount of core strength, Tomari remained bent over Margarete while lifting her other hand to join its partner, rubbing both hands over Margarete’s face. “Sister dearest told me once that skin-to-skin contact can get one’s heart pounding,” she said, fingers running through Margarete’s hair. A thumb travelled down her forehead, then up the slope of Margarete’s nose before descending down its tip and over the curve of her lips before running down her chin and throat. When Tomari’s palms briefly closed over her ears, Margarete could hear her own heartbeat pound in her skull. I wonder if I’m the first European girl she’s ever met, Margarete thought, as Tomari’s index finger traced the shape of her right eye.
“Well? Are you satisfied yet?” Feeling blood rushing to her cheeks, Margarete felt like dunking her head into the cool waters of the jellyfish tank. She settled for loosening the top button of her shirt. The heat coming off Tomari’s body was palpable, even over the warm summer temperature permeating the room. “Have enough data now?”
Tomari shook her head sadly. “I can see that your body is reacting to my touch, with the increased blood flow to your face, your rapid pulse, and your dilated pupils all being obvious signs. Surely dopamine is now coursing through your brain, as well.” She put a hand to her own chest. “However, I am confused as to the reaction of my own body. Is there an equation for this feeling…?”
“Oh, for…” If this went on any longer, Margarete feared that Tomari’s hands would start to unbutton her shirt the rest of the way, to explore uncharted territory. She swiftly reached up and wrapped her arms around Tomari’s back, pulling her closer to the bed until their chests touched. Margarete felt her ribcage brush against Tomari’s abdomen as they both exhaled at the same time, Tomari’s hot breath swirling into Margarete’s mouth as Margarete brought their lips together. Closing her eyes, she tasted the sugary-sweet flavor of the brightly-colored drink that Tomari had been sipping from all night long on her lips. Something hard brushed against her nose as she adjusted her mouth to match Tomari’s surprised movements, and she only realized it was the frame of Tomari’s glasses when they separated and they were sitting crooked on Tomari’s face, her slack mouth hanging open in a very un-idol-like fashion. “Listen, you,” Margarete said, holding Tomari up by her ribs, “sometimes you have to just dive into something, without knowing where you’re gonna end up! I came to this country with the intention of being the greatest school idol ever, and it didn’t work out the way I wanted! But I didn’t cut and run, I stayed here, and came up with a different plan to make my dreams come true! Sometimes, If it feels right, you just have to go with it!”
“If it feels right…” Tomari said, half-mumbling. She reached up and adjusted her glasses, her cheeks as red as her irises. “Hmm.” A wet sheen of Margarete’s saliva coated Tomari’s lips, disappearing when Tomari licked them. “That… felt right, although I struggle to put this feeling into words.” Her gaze traveled back to Margarete, a hungry look on her face. “I want to experience this feeling again.” She slowly lowered her face, settling her weight onto Margarete’s body. Margarete closed her eyes, letting Tomari dictate the tempo of their next kiss. She was cautious at first, gently pecking at Margarete’s lips a few times, then she took a deep breath which expanded her lungs against Margarete’s chest and kissed her deeply, fingers once again in Margarete’s hair, nails tracing her scalp. Margarete felt the warm tip of Tomari’s tongue enter her mouth, and she hoped the taste of the crab-flavored chips that Onitsuka-senpai had given her earlier as a snack hadn’t made her mouth taste too revolting. She touched Tomari’s tongue with her own, then felt fresh air enter her mouth as Tomari lifted her head up. Margarete felt a gentle weight settle against her chest, as she opened her eyes and saw that Tomari was now lying completely on top of her, her head resting on Margarete’s shoulder. Warm fingers intertwined with her own. “I wish to explore this situation further,” Tomari said, her breath tickling Margarete’s cheek. “Wien Margarete, do you consent to entering into a romantic relationship with me, Onitsuka Tomari?”
“That might be the least romantic thing I ever heard!” Despite her complaint, Margarete felt her heart skip a few beats when she heard Tomari speak those words. “Although… I mean, it’s really annoying when you blow stuff off that doesn’t interest you, and your relationship skills could use some work…” Margarete scratched her cheek, looking over Tomari’s shoulder at the jellyfish floating lazily around in the tank. “It’s like, when you smile onstage, I feel like that’s the real you, and I want to see more of it. So, I suppose I can indulge you, until I go back to Austria, anyway.”
“Then it’s agreed,” Tomari said. She pecked Margarete on the cheek. “Tonight, you can sleep in my bed with me, so that I may gather more data points. The rest of the girls can stay in sister dearest’s room.”
“Hmph! Who said I was staying over?!” Well, the digital clock on the desk told her that she really didn’t have a choice in the matter, as all of the trains had long since stopped running. “But fine. It’ll be amusing to see the others crowd into Onitsuka-senpai’s room anyway. I hope she snores, that would be hilarious.”
After they had finished their song, the rest of the girls had indeed packed themselves like sardines into Onitsuka-senpai’s room, which really wasn’t any bigger than Tomari’s, although Wakana-senpai and Yoneme-senpai didn’t seem troubled with it. In fact, they had already bundled themselves into a single blanket before the lights even went out and the sisters bade each other goodnight. Kanon-senpai didn’t seem very surprised when Margarete texted her to tell her that she’ll be staying over at the Onitsuka’s residence. Margarete sidled into the side of Tomari’s bed nearest the wall, a long T-shirt she borrowed from Tomari’s mother hanging loosely from her shoulders. Tomari climbed in next, her slender body easily sliding into Margarete’s arms. “I believe my feelings towards you are called ‘love’,” Tomari said, her voice gently sounding in the darkness, the undersea glow of the jellyfish tank the only source of light in the room.
“You can just say, ‘I love you’.” Margarete gently squeezed Tomari’s body, feeling a reassuring warmth under her fingertips. “Like this.” She cleared her throat. “I love you, Tomari. Now go to sleep, so we can crush Liella with everything we’ve got!”