The insane musings of the authoress: Yeah, I know, it's been a while, dolls. I'd give you a nice explanation now, but I decided to save my authoress' note to the end; because this chapter has been a long time coming and I'll bet you all just want to read now, right? .:smiles:.
Special thanks to: All the reviewers. I love you guys so much. You all deserve lots of huggles and cookies for putting up with such a neglectful authoress .:doles out huggles and cookies:.
Extra special thanks to: Lily and the rest of my family for putting up with me during my insane bout of exam-induced tendency to blow up at everyone all the time; and of course Sylphie, whom I LOVE TO PIECES! (Girl, I'm so sorry I haven't spoken to you in so long. My computer time? Has been like zilch. And any time I could spare from studying, I used to write. I'll send you a mail real soon. How was the dance?)
Disclaimer: Own CCS? Moi? Only in my most fun daydreams .:grins somewhat sadistically (oh Eriol-kun, come heeeere. Please put on the kitty ears – you'd look so cute. …Can you give the tail a miss? Oh, but come on, it'd be so adorable! …don't run away!):.
Butterflies: In Spring
Chapter Eight
Champagne Breakfast
"Never really thought about how much work Christmases really are," Sakura said with a sigh as she scrutinised the piece of paper on which she was slowly and laboriously writing down a list. She scratched the side of her head with the end of her pencil and looked pleadingly at her husband.
"Let's see, I have a tree, presents, decorations, a Christmas cake and a note to make a reservation at that really nice restaurant for dinner…" she recited, and eyed her husband carefully, waiting for his response.
Said husband was examining their oven and trying to figure out why it wouldn't work despite his best efforts to jolt it into the contrary.
"And here I thought we were going to be brave and cook at home for…" he bit his tongue before he said 'our first Christmas together', because although that was really what it was, he hadn't really the right to say that, as it wouldn't only be their first Christmas together, but their last, also.
What a depressing thought.
Sakura baulked at the idea, making a disbelieving noise.
"Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea how much work that is? Besides, I wouldn't know where to start – it was always Tomoyo who did all the organising for our Christmases – she just told me what to do," Sakura said, frowning.
Syaoran shrugged, his back still to her. She watched his shoulders rise and fall.
"Damn oven," he muttered as he poked enthusiastically at another button. "I wonder what this one does…" he murmured to himself.
Sakura had to fight hard to resist the sudden almost overwhelming urge to giggle. He's so adorable sometimes.
"I still say it would be nice to cook ourselves," Syaoran said in a slightly louder voice. "It wouldn't be that hard – there will only be four of us, after all, right? A chicken should do it. I'll even take care of the cooking. It would be fun," he concluded optimistically.
"Syaoran, dear, Christmas is in one week. The oven's messed up, so unless you're proposing you cook the chicken on a spit over an open fire or something, I highly doubt there is going to be any cooking going on in this house on Christmas," she said as she tapped her pencil idly against her list (written on a page in an almost frighteningly pink Hello Kitty notebook, of course).
Syaoran grinned widely at that.
"You shouldn't have brought up the spit idea," he said, "you've given me ideas…"
"No spit cooking," Sakura said firmly, eyes sparkling with suppressed mirth. Syaoran turned finally to face her and pouted.
"Aww…" he complained, and Sakura's face split into a smile that she couldn't hold back.
"Besides," she said, talking mostly to simply try to control the smile, "I was thinking of expanding the party…"
Syaoran looked suspiciously at her. Sakura attempted to look wide-eyed and innocent.
"You sound too nonchalant for your own good," he said, folding his arms across his chest, "just how much were you planning on expanding it by?"
"Well, I was thinking that it might be nice to invite my family. Onii-chan is forever complaining that he never sees me anymore, and of course Yukito-san would come too, and 'tou-san… Well, he lives by himself. I thought it might be nice for us all to go to dinner. We could have your family as well, but…" she trailed off, and Syaoran grinned.
"Don't worry, I know. We'd be taking over the whole restaurant at that point," he said. Then he looked considering.
"That doesn't sound too bad," he conceded, "apart from the fact that I don't think your brother really likes me all that much." He pulled a face, as did Sakura.
"I know," she said in what she hoped was a sympathetic tone, "I think he might have been drunk that day when we were at his house and he agreed so easily to our 'marriage'."
Syaoran winced at the way she said 'marriage', putting invisible mocking emphasis on it. He didn't like to be constantly reminded of the fact that he would lose her, not too long from now.
He shook his head and grinned at his wife.
"But I'm sure it'll all be fine," he said, "your father's a really nice guy, and besides, we have Tomoyo-san and you to diffuse the tension – he loves you, and her, to pieces, after all," he said, considering. "Eriol-san and I will simply sit very, very far away from him," he finished.
Sakura flushed uncomfortably and squirmed in her seat.
"I'm sorry about him, but at least Yukito-san will be there to help matters." she said, but Syaoran halted her with a shake of his head.
"I was just the same with my sister's husbands," he said, then paused with a frown. "Although I was only ten years old when Fei onee-chan got married, so it probably wasn't all that effective," he grinned, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
Sakura had to grin along with him as she imagined a chibi Syaoran glowering for all he was worth across a dinner table at his older sister's fiancé.
"I can't believe it's only a week until Christmas," Sakura said happily as she gazed out of the large kitchen window and out into the garden beyond. "I hope it snows…"
Syaoran had gone back to poking unsuccessfully at the oven, and Sakura was forced to giggle at him.
"Syaoran," she said, "darling, I'm afraid that you are not going to get that thing to work again all by yourself. I'll call out a technician, okay? I don't want you hurting yourself."
Syaoran couldn't see his wife's expression but she sounded concerned. He could picture her face in his mind, her delicate eyebrows drawing neatly together over her eyes – the expression she never failed to make when she was worried. He couldn't deny that the idea of her worrying over him made a warm feeling spread through his chest.
"It's just frustrating," he said, standing up again and turning on his heel, facing away from the broken appliance again, "I would really have enjoyed doing dinner here."
"Well, maybe if I get the technician out fast enough, you'll be able to," Sakura said comfortingly. "A home Christmas would be nice…" she mused to herself.
As Syaoran regarded his wife, a thought struck him.
"What date is it?" he asked her suddenly. Sakura blinked, startled out of her reverie with surprise at his abrupt question, "er, a week to Christmas, which would make it… December 18th. Why?"
Syaoran shook his head.
"Nothing, nothing. Don't worry about it; I just remembered something," he smiled reassuringly, and Sakura looked like she was ready to drop it.
I was right, he thought, and made a mental note to do something about it.
…
To Syaoran, the rest of that Saturday passed in a blur of Sakura talking on the phone.
She called her father, her brother and his boyfriend to tell them about their new Christmas plans ("we might be going to dinner at a restaurant," she warned them, "or we might be doing something at home. Our oven's broken, but Syaoran really wants to cook, so be prepared for either, okay?" Syaoran felt an almost inexplicable rush of affection towards her then. She just sounded like a little child, with the firmness of her tone), she called Tomoyo and Eriol to find out the number of the guy who fixed their fridge for them that time ("fridges and ovens are nearly the same thing!" she said defensively when Syaoran questioned her on the point of doing that), and then she called the fridge repairman, who informed her that he could indeed take a look at their oven, as he was an all-round kitchen appliance specialist (which prompted Sakura to do a little victory dance to annoy Syaoran – "I was so RIGHT! In your face, Syaoran!") and would Wednesday be okay?
At one point, while Sakura was on the phone, Syaoran snuck out of the house to purchase some of the materials he would require to be able to implement his Master Plan.
…
When Sakura woke up on Sunday morning she was so exhausted and her brain so sleep-addled that she managed to walk straight into a wall on her way down the stairs. So, needless to say she was in a bad mood when she walked into the kitchen with one side of her hair sticking up comically in its habitual early-morning style and rubbing a sore spot on her forehead where she had had her collision with the wall.
The sight that greeted her eyes, however, made her drop her hand from the sore spot and gape.
"What's – what's all this?" she asked, gobsmacked.
Syaoran, who had been facing away from her, started violently at the sound of a voice. Evidently he hadn't heard her approach.
"Oh," he said, looking at the table as well, "It's… Um… It's… Well… Doyouknowwhatdateitis?" he finally asked her in a rush.
She blinked at him and tried – unsuccessfully – to rearrange her hair with one distracted hand.
"Er… December 19th, I think," she said hesitantly. "Why?"
"Er…" he looked down at the table and blushed. "All this may have been a bit much, but, er, it's our one-month anniversary today. Well, it sort of isn't really exactly; I mean it's been one month since we did the whole big wedding thing, not a month since the chapel wedding in Tokyo. Anyway, I just thought…"
He trailed off, running out of steam. Sakura's eyes softened.
"It's our one-month anniversary?" she asked, her voice gentle and disbelieving. He nodded.
"I can't believe it," she said.
"And I know this isn't a real marriage, but I thought we should celebrate, you know, after all we have managed to go a month without either of us committing murder, or walking out early, or even having a big row…" he began again, but stopped abruptly when he felt the light pressure of Sakura's lips against his cheek.
He closed his mouth where it had been open mid-sentence and turned his head to look at her as she lowered herself back down off the tips of her toes.
"Thank you so much for this," she said sincerely. "I really, really appreciate it. It's lovely, and so thoughtful of you."
Syaoran could feel his face – no, in fact, make that his face, his ears and his neck – turn instantly red so fast the blood made an almost audible whoosh.
"It – it was nothing," he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I hope you like it. I was going for a sort-of breakfast in Paris type thing."
"Are those chocolate crepes?" she asked excitedly.
Syaoran laughed.
"Yes, they are. Store-bought, unfortunately. I would have cooked some from scratch myself, but the oven's messed up, as you know."
"And champagne?" she squealed.
"I figured we'd have a champagne breakfast," he replied. "A little unusual, but…"
"It's PINK!" she squealed, and Syaoran laughed again.
"Yes, I figured you'd like that," he said, and he looked down on her with soft eyes. She looked up at him and he looked away quickly, frightened of inadvertently giving himself away.
"Thank you so much, again," she said, and she was practically glowing.
I did that, Syaoran thought proudly to himself, and something warm rose in his chest.
"You really didn't have to go to all this trouble," she said.
"No, I… I wanted to," he said, smiling.
Sakura and Syaoran will sit down to breakfast, during which Syaoran will be blatantly over-affectionate in every action he takes; but, lucky for him, the things written in the way he gazes longingly across the table at Sakura will zoom straight over our heroine's head. They'll eat their breakfast and Syaoran, the poor dear, will not notice that he should just write 'I LOVE YOU SAKURA!' across his forehead and be done with it.
…
A.N. You get a slightly short chapter this week, my dears. This chapter is really just filler to set up the run-up to Christmas. I wanted to break it there because… Well, it makes sense in my head, but it might not written down. Let's just suffice it to say that this way doesn't make me want to tear my hair out.
Now that the sufficiently odd author's note is over, let me just say: Normal service resumes as of NOW, because my exams are OVER! .:does the happy happy squee dance of joy:. Thank you all for being so patient with me over the last while. I know I've been a neglectful little authoress, but I fully intend to make it up to you. (Just so you know – chapter nine? Majorly in the works. …and it's coming out fluffy. Something to look forward to .:grins:.)
Shattered Midnight Dreams…zzz…
Because life's like that sometimes…
