Here's an update!
Thanks to Padfoot Starfyre and Sapphire Drizzle for the reviews, and the ideas. Do you guys think that Misaki and Aoi would play well for a story? Of course not a serious type of romance. I got another idea with that, but whatever…
Sapphire, looking forward to your letter D! Might I suggest 'Denial'? hehehe!
Disclaimer: I don't own Maid-Sama
Chapter 1: Monday's Measurement
His foul mood had reached near breaking point, which was painfully clear as he stomps his way on the sidewalk.
All night long, he was trying to envision the potentials of his new dress, but instead of himself, that darn, apathetic girl's figure would pop up in his mind.
"Speak of the devil." He said, seeing the same girl standing in front of a shop.
He was about to call her out, when he saw how intently she was gazing at something. His face crumpled into a concentrated scowl as he took the opportunity to stare at her.
She's the reason why he couldn't think straight last night, and it was driving him to maddening fury.
When he had walked near enough, he knew she was aware he was there, but she remained unmoving, several paper bags in each hand, and a large back pack behind her.
'What's with that huge bag?' he thought.
Today, Suzuna has decided to wear something less rugged than yesterday's cargo pants, which wouldn't have been sufficient for Aoi if he didn't think skirts look best on, curvy, slim figures – like the ones she had.
"Are you checking me out?" she asked without looking. He immediately averted his eyes.
"Will you quit asking that question? I'm never gonna be interested in you. Speaking of interests, is that the thing you want to buy?"
Even though he said that, he was still a bit red when he took the bags bundled in her right hand.
"Yes."
They were looking at a silver necklace bracing a blue cube-shaped gem as a pendant.
"Ocean Thoughts." Aoi read the label, "The name fits you."
"The 'Thought' part?" Suzuna asked indifferently.
"No, the 'Ocean' part. It's deep, it's scary, and full of surprises – just like you." he said, grinning mischievously like the devil that he is.
"So you think I'm deep?"
"No, I think you're scary."
The teasing didn't work as Suzuna just stood there, still looking at her prize. In her yellow orbs Aoi could see a grave desire, almost an incomprehensible need.
She really wants that necklace.
Beside the label was tag with digits that made Aoi's jaw drop.
"700,000 yen – goodness!" he said loudly, "Well, good luck affording that."
It was easy for him to turn his back on that sewing machine from yesterday because he knew he'd never have the money - not in a million years. It was easier to turn his back from something that another person wants.
It would be troublesome to spend more time of the day with her than with his dress, considering how far he still has to go with the design, but he just couldn't bring himself to peel her from that shop-window.
Eventually, frustration took its toll. She heaved a deep sigh, and then walked with Aoi to the park.
'I wonder what she's thinking right now.' Aoi told himself.
Neither spoke during their peaceful venture. One was too cautious and suddenly too sensitive to rant about pointless rudeness like he normally does, the other too – passive, which is how she normally is.
They reached the park, earlier than expected, and started setting things up.
"Did you bring it?" the boy asked, spreading the mat on the grassy ground.
"Bring what?"
"Your ripped shirt."
"Ah yes. I brought them all."
"All?"
Suzuna slammed that huge backpack in the middle of the mat and started pulling out carefully folded shirts, each having tolerated some sort of ruthless damage. That impossible price earlier turned pale at how disbelieving Aoi was.
"Wh- what's all these?!"
"My ripped shirts." She said, unaffected by his accusing tone.
"I said I'd fix your ripped SHIRT, and that goes without an 'S' at the end!"
-stare –
"Oh." She said. After a thought-filled pause, her eyes lit up a bit. "Won't you please fix my other shirts, then?"
"Hah!" proud and haughty Aoi crossed his arms, "Why should I? What's in it for me?"
"I'll give you a kiss." She immediately answered, plainly, boorishly, as if she was expecting that self-centered question.
The boy stumbled back at the offer, face turning into a wreck of flusters and crumpling into a defensive, growling expression, "Wh—wh! I don't – ugh, why would I want a k-k-kiss from you?!"
"One-chan kissed you yesterday, and you ended up doing what she asked. I thought you liked being kissed."
"I don't, especially not by un-cute girls like you!"
"If I was to dress nicely, would let me kiss you? Then you can fix my shirts."
He was infuriated, embarrassed, and mentally tortured, "Agghh! No, never! You'd never look cute in any dress anyway!"
'That was mean.' He thought.
There was a momentary pause after that, with passersby giggling at the sight of them.
"Okay." The girl seemed to have resigned, but whether she felt bad about it was hardly apparent, and this Aoi considered incredibly annoying.
"Give me that."
He snagged the original shirt in concern, and slumped down on the corner of the mat, giving space to the stack of clothes waiting for him.
"Thank you, Ao-"
"Shut up! Don't you say another word." He growled, face still tainted with rosy colors, attending diligently with a threaded needle already in hand.
Suzuna had just finished pouring out the contents of the bags for showcase, when a customer miraculously made its way.
"Hello there! Is the can opener still available?" asked the lady with a familiar face.
Aoi felt a smirk form on his face as Suzuna stole a glance at him, probably to affirm yesterday's info, before she cheerfully (at least as cheerful as passively possible) concluded her first transaction for the day.
Save for the bustling, thickening crowd, nothing happened after that.
There was something comforting about the soft, quiet air, considering the fine weather and the cozy breeze. Suzuna, careful in the presentation of her goods and answering inquiries as rare as they come, while Aoi quietly attending to her abused clothes.
"Ouch!" he hissed, sucking on a punctured thumb.
"Ah -" she wanted to attend to him, but the seriousness on his face warned her otherwise.
Looking closer, she noticed he was already on his 5th piece of clothing, the finished ones having been neatly folded on the corner. Closer still, she saw a face that wasn't as serious as it was vibrant, his breath turning into soft tunes of exhales, eyes concentrated and lips parted slightly.
Having stripped his face of that signature scowl has allowed Suzuna to fancy his handsome features, and his skillful hands.
"W-w-w-w-what - " Suzuna turned around to check on such panicky stutter, and saw the boy holding up a rather intimate garment. "What the hell is this?!"
Aoi asked, holding up a piece like it was a dangerous object, face transforming into a cherry again.
"Bloomers."
"I know that! Why did you put it in here?!"
"Because it is ripped." She said as void of emotions as ever, confused as to why the person in front of her was shaking while holding her elementary gym shorts.
"Do you have a sharp butt, or something? How do you actually rip clothing this skimpy?"
Aoi reluctantly spread the bloomers further and saw an ugly strip of space by the side of the hem. Anyone could tell it was clearly from something sharp and pointy.
"It was in a school trip. We were hiking. I tripped by the ledge, rolled down a cliff, and got stuck on a stump."
Stuck on stump – that didn't sound so pleasant, especially if you're wearing bloomers.
"Would you like to see the scar?" she offered, inching up the edge of her skirt.
"Have you no shame, woman?"
The impulse to conserve whatever delights hiding under that skirt of hers drove Aoi to lean forward quickly and push her hand down, otherwise she'd lift the clothing and show such 'evidence' which is dangerously close to – something he thought he didn't want to see. Note the 'he thought' part.
As always, impulse lead to surprises – in their case, an uncomfortable proximity of their faces and his hands pressed down firm on her soft ones.
Neither dared blink. Both too attached to the foreign warmth of their breaths combined. Both suddenly absorbed into whatever they're seeing in each other's eyes – sapphire of honest, and expressive energy, and amber of mysterious, warm serenity.
"Aoi-chan," she whispered.
It tickled his nose like morning dew.
'Ah, she smells nice.' He thought, eyes fluttering close, defeated and hypnotized from her glimmering orbs.
"You're a pervert."
"SHUT UP!"
He threw himself back in his less awkward and less embarrassing corner, trying to shake away the hotness of his face and the memory of mint and cinnamon mixing oddly well in his nostrils courtesy of her breath.
Distraction would be the best recourse, and the decision to spend another afternoon with her narrowed down the choice to what she has bought for him, so he continued mending her clothes, one after the other, careful and conscious of every pull he made, every subtle, artful thrust of that needle. Despite his concentration though, accuracy would fall short of saving him from clumsy accidents.
He had injured himself several times already. Suzuna could tell as much with how swollen his hands were. But his resilience suggests he is use to this sort of self-infliction.
Still-
"Hey, what are you doing?" Aoi asked as Suzuna started folding the unattended clothes and piling them up neatly.
"You can stop now." she said.
He's indifferent to favors, and although he didn't like leaving things half-finished, it wasn't as if he asked to stich up her clothes in the first place.
"You're weird, you know that? You ask me to do your clothes for you, and now- "
She laid her furrowed gaze on his red, blood stained hands.
"You're hurting." Said the stoic girl.
The boy blinked his eyes at her, unfamiliar with being an object of concern, especially a girl's concern. He didn't know how to react. He couldn't even throw a single jerky remark. He just sat there, watching her move in such slow and graceful manner.
"Weirdo." He mumbled, and then stood up. "Well, if that's that, then I might as well get going."
"Why?" she asked, bored, plain and indifferent, but for some reason, Aoi could make out a hint of something in her eyes. Something close to a sudden, heavy sentiment, almost like sadness.
"If I'm not going to work on something, I'll just home. I have better things to do."
This time, there was definitive regret on her solemn face, dropping and thoughtful.
"Oh. But -"
"But what?" he asked, wondering if she wanted him to stay.
There was an obvious dilemma in her shoes, a choice between giving him a prickling reason to stay, or saving him from additional scars and letting him leave. But she eventually reached a decision.
"Nothing. I guess I'll see you, then."
"Yeah, I guess."
"Thanks for staying with me and fixing my shirts."
"I didn't get to finish them anyway, so don't thank me yet. And I only stayed because of our, um, transaction."
"If I give you another item, will you come again tomorrow?"
"Maybe," he said, grinning down at her, "but I don't want any of your stuff, so I don't think I'll be coming back."
"How about a kiss then?" she said, and was about to lean up and tease him some more, but Aoi turned his back with a grunt.
"Who the hell would like a kiss from a weird girl like you?" he said, crossing his arms and containing his blush, "I'm going. See yah."
"Okay. Bye."
Even before taking the first step out of the mat, he found himself turning his head to look back at her. She was kneeling there, head tilted in question of his hesitation, and gazing up with hopeful eyes. Aoi grumbled, unable to deny how mesmerizing her eyes were, even through blank stares like that.
"Hey," he said in a forceful, low voice, "Don't – um, don't let the sunset catch you here, okay?"
"Are you worried about me, Aoi?"
"No!"
He lied, but he'd die first before admitting that he was in fact worried about leaving her all by herself. But that's the end of it, he thought, so he made a quick dash home before he could get a closer look at how she smiled with that last question, because he knew he'd be thinking about her later on, and that may not leave much room for his beloved dress.
When he got home, his heart was still racing, but not from the run, but from an excitement. This was the feeling last night before he envisioned his dress.
Without even thinking about it, he took a clean sheet of paper and began drafting his dress. Yesterday's pattern, the angle of the curves, the slit, he decided to go for it, even though his previous dresses never really showed much skin.
'Who cares?' he thought, as he sketched away with his pencil in hand.
By the time he was done, his hand was already complaining – after being butchered with stitching and then pressured by sketching, who wouldn't? but he couldn't afford to care about that, because on the sheet of paper was roughly drawn his new dress. He was grinning like a triumphant child and panting for his breath. Ignoring the soft stains of red from widened wounds, he lifted the draft up.
"This is it, the cutest dress I will ever make. It's perfect! It's ingenious! It's like nothing I have ever seen! It's - wrong…"
Indeed, upon closer look, something was different, specifically with the sizes. He didn't have that thin of a waistline, and that space by the chest area is not necessary. His shoulders were broad, so the line by the arm is wrong.
And then it dawned to him – he sketched down his design with a girl's vital statistics. The question is why and how?
"It- it can't be."
After handling all those clothes, her body size, indeed each and every corner of her body, has become imprinted in his head, without his consideration, without him even knowing it. The fitting would be wrong for him, but, hesitantly, when he tried to imagine her on that dress, it was –
"AGGGHHH! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!"
The prospect of his new dress, at least as far as being a cross-dresser is concerned, has grown from dim, to virtually pitch black.
Because now, he would have to ask why Suzuna looked perfect in the dress that was supposed to be for him.
To be continued
I hope you enjoyed that!