A/N: I thought about it. I really did. For weeks. Then, I had a revelation. I am a bad, lazy, shiftless author. So. We're just going to continue with the main story.

I could say that I owned the characters, but then I'd get sued.

Angeles
~freedom is at hand and I am confused~

As we wandered around the (extremely limited) dress shop, Tomoyo chattered happily about the dance and held up dresses for Sakura to try on. Sue wandered away a little, gravitating towards the petite section. Briefly, I wondered why Tomoyo of all people wanted to go shopping for dresses. She was always the one to—

"Fai!"

"Huh?"

"What do you think of this dress?" Tomoyo tugged me over to where Sakura stood on a pedestal, all decked out in a magnificent white dress, complete with sequins and abstract swirls. Sakura looked vaguely uncomfortable in the dress, as if she knew it was too much but was forced into it anyway (she was.)

"Wait, when's the wedding?" I joked, blown away by the sheer amount of white froth that Sakura looked like she was drowning in. Tomoyo eyed the dress critically.

"You're right. It's too wedding-ish." She pushed Sakura back into the fitting room. "Try on a new one!" She yelled encouragingly.

"Why couldn't you just make me a dress, like you'll do for yourself?" Sakura grumbled. "Why go through the trouble of picking out a dress you'll wear only once?"

"Because…" Tomoyo drawled, "it's all part of your high school experience, and shopping is fun. Besides, don't you want to look your best for Syaoran?"

Fwump. The muffled sound told us that Sakura had slipped up when Tomoyo mentioned Syaoran's name. Ten bucks says she looks like a strawberry, too.

Another fitting room door opened and Sue walked out, wearing a pretty white dress that ended at her knees and flowed down to the floor in the back. The silver gear design that embellished its edges and collar brought out her forest green eyes, white-blonde hair, and gentle smile. She was barefoot and looked like a steampunk angel. I couldn't help it; I hugged her as tightly as I could.

"You look beautiful!" Tomoyo squealed. Sue, who was struggling to breathe in my tight grip, nodded in thanks.

"Fai, let me go please," she gasped out. I let her go.

"Oops. Sorry," I mumbled, chagrined. "You just looked so pretty."

She curtsied, and I almost tackled her. So. Damn. Cute. Sakura walked out of her dressing room, this time in a gothic dress that oddly fit her very well.

"What do you think?" she asked, twirling a little. Behind her, I could see a pile of discarded dresses. It looked like they'd tried about every style, color and cut available. Where had I been for the last five minutes? Oh, right. Stuck in my head.

Tomoyo shook her head. "No, this won't do…well, actually, you and I will probably be better off with custom dresses." She looked at me. I shrugged.

"Whatever you said, but I definitely like Sue's dress." Tomoyo smacked her forehead.

"Fai! You're so out of it today!"

"Sorry, sorry! I just have stuff on my mind, that's all."

Sakura looked at me sympathetically, then. "Is this about Syaoran telling everyone that he's taking you to prom?"

"No, it's not that but—wait, WHAT?" The three girls exchanged glances and huddled up; leaving me out of the circle, sitting in a chair, wondering what the hell was going on.

"…no! I'm not going to be the one to tell him!"

"…you have to!"

"I'm going to go change back into my regular clothes," Sakura announced. She retreated into the dressing room before the other two could protest.

Tomoyo and Sue exchanged looks. "Rock, paper, scissors?" I suggested mildly.

"Yeah, let's do that!"

Twenty minutes and nine rounds of Rock, Paper, Scissors later, I got the entire story. One certain fluffy-haired teenage will not live to see the next sunrise, I promise you that. Fuming (me) and bewildered (them), we left the dress shop after paying for Sue's dress. The girls wanted to look at makeup, since there was still time, and no one wanted dinner yet. I decided to go to a bookshop, since I wouldn't understand a thing that they wanted to talk about (as much as I like girls' clothing, cosmetics were always a loss for me.) We separated at a crosswalk, with a promise to meet back at the little Italian restaurant that Tomoyo had given me directions to at seven.

One problem. I had completely forgotten that I had no sense of direction whatsoever. Within the first fifteen minutes of my walking alone, I was lost. Shuffling a tad dejectedly at my stupidity, I resolved to find the nearest open shop and ask for directions. I meandered along a street, muttering softly to myself about the injustices of genetics, and my neck suddenly prickled. I turned a corner. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw nothing. No one. Perhaps I was being too hypersensitive. I continued along the empty street. Occasionally, a car would thunder past, and I would shiver at the cold wind it stirred up. Across the street, four men stumbled drunkenly out of a pub. I continued by, hoping, praying, wishing that they wouldn't notice me.

"Hey there, darling!" one yelled brazenly. The other three laughed raucously.

I winced. So much for not being noticed. I kept walking, hoping that they weren't actually talking to me.

"Hey! Where ya going? Wanna play wid ussssh?" He slurred out. I walked faster. I knew that they were following me. The voices weren't getting any quieter.

It was tempting, though, to bait the men, to see what would happen if I decided to fight instead of listening to the good voice inside my head that told me to flee. I ducked into a side alley in hopes that it wouldn't be a dead end.

I cursed at the brick walk that greeted my face. Then I turned around to face my trackers. Hands up, ready to guard. Knees bent, feet apart, ready to run and hopefully not face-plant on the dirty cement. "What do you want from me?" I asked warily. Three scruffy, drunk men giggled. One leered.

"Aww, don't be like that. 'Ssshnot like anything bad's happen to about…about to happen." He stumbled a bit, and his cronies pushed him upright. "…In fact, if your goooood, this might be an almost pleasant memory." He leered again.

I felt the wall meet my back. The rough brick pricked me through my shirt. "No, that's okay," I countered, trying to draw out the time. Please, someone…anyone…Kuro-wan? You're always here…"I'm not really a girl, if you haven't noticed…"

"Really?" Leery turned to his cronies. "Do ya think sshee's tellin' us the truth, boys?" One man squinted at me. I suppose, it could be loosely termed as "checking me out", although I wasn't sure if that was what he was trying to do, or focus his eyes.

"Hunh, I dunno, man…ain't got much ta talk about, so's I can tell…" he slurred out. "But…y'knoooow, I can't sh-see too well, maybe if I got a little—" The angry screech of a certain silver Volvo cut him off as he dived for cover among the rats and the garbage. The rest of the men had scattered as well. They weren't so drunk as to not be able to realize an angry car when…oh hell, now I sound drunk.

The passenger door popped open, and a familiar voice commanded me to "Get in before I attempt to murder those motherfuckers with my bare hands."

I couldn't be bothered to point out his hypocrisy. I just jumped in, slammed the door and let him speed out of the alley. He looked livid. His eyes were blazing like coals in the semi darkness, and I was overcome with the sudden urge to touch his eyes to see if they burned.

"What the hell," he got out through gritted teeth, "were you doing alone?"

"Am I not allowed to be alone when I want to be?" I asked, shaken, but offended.

"Don't argue with me—just answer the question." His hands gripped the steering wheel with a death grip.

"Alright, I wanted to look at books, the girls wanted to look at make-up, happy?" I sighed. His knuckles were turning white, I noticed.

He grunted noncommittally, but his grip relaxed. "Why?" he asked, still through gritted teeth.

"The library is far more deficient than it would lead you to believe."

"No—Why?"

"You know, you should really quit grinding those molars of yours. It's bad for your—" My cell phone vibrated insistently in my pocket. I fished it out. Sakura.

"Sakura?"

"Fai! Where are you? It's past seven, and I've never known you to be this irresponsible. Ditzy and flagrantly bewildered, yes, but never this late!" Sakura's frantic voice stabbed my ear.

"Sakura, calm down—I'm with Kuro-pop," I soothed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his grip tighten on the steering wheel again.

"Wha—Ho-e?" Sakura's voice, I swear, jumped an octave. "What the hell are you doing with him? I thought you were going to that bookstore!"

"I was…and then I made a wrong turn and…eh…got lost," I muttered sheepishly. She couldn't see me, but I was cringing like a kicked dog. It didn't help that Kurogane was snickering over the steering wheel. Is it legal to punch a driver?

"Fai…" Sakura's voice sounded resigned. A soft murmuring in the background made its way to my end. "Sue wants me to tell you that we'll be meeting at her mom's bar"—an indignant shrilling—"erm…nightclub instead of the little Italian restaurant we were going to."

Kuro-turp pulled a sharp right, and I almost slammed into the headboard. "Seatbelt," he grunted. I glared at him.

"Ok," I promised. Sakura said goodbye and disconnected. I closed the cell phone and clutched it in my hand. I sighed and looked at Kuro-murph. He looked at me.

"The Clover?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. I raised an eyebrow in response.

"Yes, Kuro-listener. How'd you know?"

"You had the speaker volume on so high; I'd be surprised if the driver behind us didn't hear."

I really did smack him—hard—upside the head. He retaliated by slamming the brakes—hard—and almost throwing me into the windshield.

"We're here," he said curtly.

"You drive like a maniac."

"You hit like a girl."

"That was uncalled for."

"So was your compliment."

"Damn you."

"Too late."

"…What?"

A sharp rap resounded on the window. We—I—whipped my head around to see three pale, furious faces appeared in the window.

Out! Sakura mouthed. We need to talk.

I opened the door and climbed out of the car. Kurogane did the same on the other side. I got about a foot and a half away from the car when Sakura glomped me. Immediately, I tried to pry her off and shot a desperate look at Kuro-fer. He shrugged with a smirk and leaned against the stupid Volvo. If I killed him now, would it count as battery, aggravated assault, or homicide?

"We were so worried!" Sakura yelled into my sternum. Tomoyo put a gentle hand on her shoulder and, succeeding in what I couldn't, persuaded Sakura to let go of me.

"Sakura, Fai's fine. See for yourself. In fact, I think we may have interrupted something special," she soothed with a devious twinkle in her eye.

To avoid her knowing gaze, I looked over at Sue, who was holding a bundle of cloth in her arms. "Your jacket," she chimed, holding the fabric out to me. I thanked her and took the jacket. "If you want, I can get you two a private table. We haven't eaten yet, but I think you and Kurogane would like to be alone."

Even though she was talking to me, I could see that the offer was directed towards Kurogane. He nodded curtly.

"Thanks."

Sakura glanced between us and back at Tomoyo. "Ho-e?" she squeaked. Then comprehension dawned in her eyes. "Ohhh!" She reached up to my shoulder and tugged me downwards so that my ear was level with her mouth. "I want details tomorrow!" she hissed in my ear. Then she let go and joined Tomoyo and Sue, who were both now standing, waiting, in front of the Clover.

I blushed. "It's nothing like that!" I waved off, hopefully nonchalantly. Tomoyo nodded understandingly.

"Sure it isn't."

"Tomoyo Daidouji, I don't like you at all anymore," I hissed as I made my way up the steps to the front of the Clover. She smiled sweetly in my face.

"Now Sue," she said, turning to the small blonde girl, "how about that private booth for the love-birds?"

"Scratch that, I hate you," I spat as Sue led me away by the hand and Kurogane followed.

"Love ya, too!" Tomoyo smirked, following us in.

Two strings pulled and a pair of Bambi eyes later, Sue had me and Kuro-wu in a secluded booth, sitting across from each other and silently glancing at the menu and each other every few seconds. Every time our eyes met, they darted away just as quickly. She had long since disappeared to join Tomoyo and Sakura, and we were shifting uncomfortably in our seats, unsure of what to say.

Kuro-awkward cleared his throat as if he wanted to say something, but before he could, a waitress appeared.

"Hello, welcome to the Clover! I'll be your server tonight; what can I get you?" She said all of this very quickly, a blush creeping up her cheeks as her eyes darted from me to Kuro-scary to me and back. Back and forth. And back and forth. Kuro-goo smirked confidently at her and she flushed. I tried smiling reassuringly, but that only seemed to make it worse. She was starting to look a bit like a steamed lobster. Her hand was visibly shaking on the pad of paper she held out in front of her, pen poised.

Kuro-pot glanced down at the menu. "A whiskey. And a coke for the blonde one." He jerked his thumb at me.

"Yeah…sure. Wait. WHAT? Why do you get the alcohol?" I complained. He glared at me.

"Because I'm going to need all the alcohol I can get to keep from throttling that neck of yours."

I glared back at him. "Fine, but I'm driving home."

"I can hold my liquor better than you can, probably," he shot back.

The waitress, who had been fighting down her blush, looked from me to Kuro-bun in confusion. "Excuse me? I thought it was just a coke and a whiskey."

"Yeah, it is," Kuro-buro snapped. The waitress squeaked and tried to protect herself with her notepad. She scurried away as fast as protocol would allow.

The minute the waitress was out of sight, I relaxed my glare into a sweet smile. "You know, you really could stand to be a little nicer to the personnel—the poor girl's probably having a nervous breakdown on the freezer floor right now."

Kurogane just looked at me. I smiled pleasantly back at him. Slowly, the atmosphere faded from tense to awkward. Again. I cleared my throat uncomfortably.

"So…tell me what you were doing in Port Angeles. I swear, you're stalking me." I put my elbows on the table and leaned closer to him. "Don't lie to me. I've been doing research."

Kurogane smirked and leaned forward. "Maybe. You always need to be saved anyway. Like a princess."

"Sakura's the princess. Not me," I whispered to him. In the background, a woman with wild black hair wearing an elaborate black dress climbed on stage and began to sing. Dimly, I recognized the voice as Sue's mother's voice.

"So what do you want to know?" Kurogane asked—no, he purred.

I want to know all your secrets…then show me your soul…be it deep black or gold…I'll love you no matter what, Ora sang.

"What she said," I murmured. "Everything."

He looked amused for a moment, and his eyes flickered away from mine. The poor waitress was walking, albeit a bit shakily, towards us with our drinks.

Look me in the eyes instead of away…don't keep me away from looking into your soul…be it deep black or gold...Out of the corner of my eye, a small white figure sits down on the edge of the stage. Sue adds a harmony to her mother's singing an octave higher.

"Your d-drinks," the poor girl stammered. She ran away as soon as she could.

"I'm not a vampire. I won't suck your body dry," Kuro-dot called out to her.

"…what?" I asked him, confused.

"Isn't that what you were asking?" He turned back to me.

"No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know. You tell me?" I blurted out. I took a gulp of my drink, and realized, as the fire rushed down my throat, that it was Kuro-puu's drink. "Crap!" I grab at what looks to be my drink and take a gulp. As more fire licked down my sides I realized that it was Kuro-doki's drink. He must've switched them, the bastard. Just to get out of my questions!

He was smirking now, but my vision was a little teary and blurry at the edges, so I couldn't be sure. "I think we need to be getting home," he said casually. He stood up and hoisted me over his shoulder. "You're as drunk as a cat, and you haven't even had that much to drink! Lightweight," he muttered. He dropped a bill on the table, paying for the unfinished drinks. He carried me this way, as I tried fighting the clouds that were infesting my head, to his car, where he dumped me unceremoniously into the passenger seat and strapped me in. When he had climbed into the driver's side, he looked at me, in my drunken stupor, and—I would say leered, but I was drunk after all—smirked. "Now it's your turn."

I suggest that you review. But flames are laughed at and rejected. No. The Clover does not exist outside of CLAMP, to the extent of my knowledge.