FAIRYTALE

Genre: Romance/Drama/Humor

Rating: T

Summary: A girl. A guy. Twenty-first century. An arranged marriage. Based on Goong.

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS or Goong or Kodocha.

vii. Presenting Mr. and Mrs. Constipated-In-The-Face

"Stop moving around!"

"I'm not!"

The make-up artist growled at her before grabbing onto her head forcefully, putting her mascara on. "Do you want me to poke your eye out?" he scolded her.

"Please do," Sakura narrowed her eyes. "Then I wouldn't even have to marry the guy! I mean, they're gonna have to send me to the hospital, I'll have to wear this eye patch for several days, hopefully weeks – do you think I can get away for a couple of years? – well, they're not letting their dear son walk down the aisle with a pirate, right?"

"You'll never know."

This was not the answer Sakura had been hoping to hear. Grumbling furiously to herself, she managed to sit still for a few moments, thinking angrily. She was more frustrated with herself than him – they were in the Li Mansion, a place where she was still uncomfortable to be around in. They had given her a temporary bedroom; and if this was temporary, Sakura couldn't imagine what the real one would be like. A triple king-sized bed with gold sheets?

"You seem reluctant to marry the guy," he commented, now moving on to her hair.

Sakura snorted. "Reluctant isn't the word," she explained. "I was practically forced into this marriage."

"Oh? How so?"

Glaring at him through the reflection of the mirror, she replied, "I believe that information is confidential, mister."

He merely shrugged, now combing her hair so forcefully her neck snapped back a couple of times. "OUCH!"

"Sorry," he said curtly, grabbing another brush. "You're one lucky girl, you know that?"

"No."

"Seriously – half of Japan is chasing after him," he chuckled, nodding at the newspaper on the counter in front of her. "Take a look."

Sakura grabbed the paper, flipped it open, and her jaw dropped. "Th – that –"

"Good, eh?" the make-up artist grinned at her. "You get a full-blown picture of yourself on the front page news!"

"NO!" Sakura let out a little shriek in fury, jabbing the newspaper forcefully. "That picture – we took it last Christmas – it's just – who – I look like Rudolph!"

"Hey, stop prodding – your nails!"

"Who cares about nails at a time like this?"

The make-up artist, who I, as the author, will now name Chokichi (which means good fortune in Japanese, by the way, if you care, which I'm sure you don't), frowned and said, "Your nose isn't that red –"

"– who are you kidding?" Sakura groaned out, sliding down her seat a little. "I look like a drunk Rudolph – except he didn't get red in the face, he got red in the nose!"

"You don't look that bad, darling," Chokichi assured her, pulling her back up by yanking on her hair, causing her to yelp in pain again. "Your hair may be a little messed up, alright, but that happens to everyone –"

"Not Kaeda, I expect," Sakura mumbled under her breath. "I bet she looks perfect in all her pictures, whether it's a photo shoot, a paparazzi candid, whatever. Syaoran'll be humiliated."

"I thought you didn't care? And who's this Kaeda?" Chokichi demanded, before his eyes widened and answered his own question, "Wait – you mean Kaeda? Kaeda … Ito?"

Her only response was another snort.

"She comes from one of the richest families in the country, you know," he continued, ignoring her attitude. "No wonder Syaoran likes her."

"For some reason," Sakura sighed, irritated, "this conversation isn't making me feel any better."

"I hear ya, sweetheart. So," he said, spraying another extra load of hair spray as a finishing touch, then grinning at her in satisfaction, "what do you think?"

"I think Syaoran can shove a loaf of bread up his –"

"I mean your hair."

"It's nice."

"Excuse me?" Chokichi rolled his eyes, hands on his hips. "I spent a lot of time – not to mention having a lot of patience, and this is all I get? It's 'nice'?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sakura cocked an eyebrow at him, getting up from the chair before examining her reflection closer with the mirror, "I meant to say, you did such a great job I'm so happy with it you're the greatest make-up artist on this side of the world!"

"…"

"… and the other side too!"

"Better," Chokichi smiled at her, and took her hand to lead her to a nearby dressing room. "Now."

Sakura couldn't help but shudder.

"Excited, are you? It's alright, most brides get nervous, get cold feet, but it'll be fine, don't worry –"

"It's not that," Sakura rolled her eyes, closing the curtain as she undressed, "haven't you forgotten about the fact that I don't even love – let alone like – my husband-to-be?"

"I don't know, it wasn't that obvious," he replied sarcastically. "Oh, get over it. At least the guy you're marrying has got the looks and money."

"'Looks' here having the definition of 'ugliness'," Sakura retorted. "And 'money' here meaning 'biggest ego in the whole world'."

"Oh please," Chokichi chuckled, "at least you aren't marrying some fifty-year-old with graying hair and wrinkles and a big pot belly –"

"That's what Syaoran looks like on the inside. He's just lucky he found a good disguise."

Chokichi sighed in defeat. "Are you done yet?"

"No I'm not, and I don't think I'll ever be, I can rant about that stupid jerk for as long as I live –"

"Your dress."

"Oh," Sakura hit herself mentally, pushing the curtains aside before stepping out. "Help me with this last button, please?"

"Nah, I think I'll leave you like this so the dress will fall off when you walk down the aisle," he grinned, but did as he was told.

"You're fired."

"I love you too," he replied as he held out her shoes. "C'mon, Cinderella, we're gonna be late."

Sakura bit back a comment, and obediently put her sandals on. As they walked down the stairs, with a glaring Touya who was going to 'be with her at this emotional state of need', however much Sakura opposed ("I'm getting married, Touya, not going to rehab!").

"You know, in case you have some paparazzi and media friends," Sakura hissed at Chokichi as they descended down the stairs, "you might want to let them know, Syaoran showers every thirty years and has a very hairy back – I measured it when he was taking a nap – and just so you know, he sleeps naked except for a red lacy thong with a teddy bear named Chichi – and I swear, it's as long as his nose hair, which is about as long as mine –"

"Will you shut up already?"

"What the hell is that?"

"Thanks, Tomoyo," Sakura muttered under her breath as she approached her at the back of the mansion. "Just what I need."

Tomoyo only ignored her, still looking at her dress. "I thought you said it was white and gorgeous!"

"No I didn't," her best friend retorted. "You probably thought that in your mind. When are we going in? When is this thing gonna be over? C'mon!"

"I never knew you wanted to marry Syaoran this bad," Tomoyo grinned slyly. "And seriously. I mean, you look amazing, but I wanted a white and poofy dress with sequens splattered over the corset and it should be strapless and –"

"I'll keep that in mind when you marry Eriol," Sakura patted her back, "I mean, it's not gonna be long, is it?"

"Don't even remind me of that git."

"Where's Rika and Chiharu?"

Shrugging, Tomoyo examined her dress, putting her face very close to Sakura's frontal area. As if on cue, their other two friends arrived – very amused.

"It's too late," Chiharu coughed at Tomoyo, who was still looking at the bride's dress up close, "she's getting married. I never knew you were a lesbian –"

"Whatever," Tomoyo rolled her eyes, lifting her head. "You know I can do the stitching so much better than this, this one looks like a gorilla on crack made it –"

"I think you look beautiful, Saku," Rika beamed at her, ignoring Tomoyo's ongoing ramblings. "Don't listen to her, I think the drunk chimpanzee did a great job."

"Gorilla on crack," Chiharu corrected.

"As if it matters," Rika snorted, then giving Sakura a hug.

Tomoyo continued to frown, "So it's an all-traditional Chinese marriage, huh?"

"Unfortunately," Sakura sighed. "They said this dress has been worn by four generations." Her three friends immediately took a step back, which earned them a sharp glare. "It doesn't smell! Well, it did," she corrected herself, thinking back. "But I sprayed some perfume on it – okay, a lot of perfume on it, and it's all fine now!"

"As fine as a French prostitute," Rika snorted.

"Why French?" Chiharu frowned. "Why must it be French? Why can't it be – I don't know, Las Vegasan or however you say it, or Italian, or – or Japanese?"

"Las Vegas is famous for gambling, Italy is famous for its food and Japanese is famous for its sushi and annoyingly cute stuff," Rika retorted. "Why must you complain about everything?"

Narrowing her eyes, Chiharu huffed, "I'm not complaining, I'm just wondering! I don't know, have you ever thought about the hookers in France? Maybe they're feeling offended!"

"You didn't think whether or not it offended me when you told Sakura that my face looked like a muted carrot!"

Chiharu frowned. "Damn, you heard that?"

As they continued on bickering like an old married couple, Tomoyo turned to Sakura, shaking her head at the other two. "They remind me of you two," she commented.

"Who? Who you two? What do you mean, YouTube?"

"You and Syaoran, moron."

"At least you won't be seeing me snuggling up to him and calling him Syaorannie-Pooh-Bear-Sweetie!"

"You guys aren't even married yet, and you've already got a nick name for him?" a voice chuckled behind her. Sakura turned around, and beamed when she saw her father. After giving him a hug, she pouted a little and looked up at him, "I'm not giving him any nick names! Well, fine, I've got one or two or three or seven thousand in mind, and so far, the best one I have is Mr. So-Grumpy-I-Look-Constipated-In-The-Face –"

"You girls should go outside," Fujitaka coughed, interrupting his daughter. "You don't want to be late!"

Rika and Chiharu shut their mouths for two seconds, retreated with Tomoyo before starting up again.

"So," Fujitaka started, smiling at Sakura after her friends left, "are you ready?"

As Sakura looked into her father's eyes, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness: this was it. She was getting married – to the biggest jerk on the planet, for her family.

"I don't want you to do something you don't want," Fujitaka said quietly, taking her hands. "If you want to back out, you can still do it. It doesn't matter, I – as well as Touya, however much he may deny it – want what's best for you."

Touched, Sakura shook her head. "I want what's best for you too. And Touya. He can't land himself a job for more than a week, I have to help out some how," she smiled weakly, and her dad chuckled. "Anyhow, it'll be fun, don't you think?"

"I'll leave that up for you to decide," Fujitaka smiled, put an arm around her shoulder and hugged her tight. "Who knows, maybe we'll see you two falling in love with each other at the end?"

"…"

"…"

"When pigs fly."

"The perfume is starting to wear off," Tomoyo stated, fanning herself with her napkin.

"I know," Sakura said miserably, "and I'm the one who's wearing it!"

"I'm sitting next to you!"

"So am I, I'm stuck with this garlic-smelling girl for the rest of my life," Syaoran commented, rolling his eyes before taking a sip of champagne.

"Garlic?" Tomoyo frowned. "I think it's more like onion, I had to chop some for the curry my mom was making last night –"

"Curry?"

Sakura dropped her chopsticks, looking at him with her jaw open. "You haven't heard of curry either?" she asked in a high-pitched voice, stricken. "Tomoyo!" she turned to her best friend, slightly hysterical, "Look what I got myself into!"

"What do you eat?" Tomoyo asked Syaoran, who shrugged.

"This."

"This?" Sakura gawked at the table in front of him. "That's – that's it?"

"I think it's quite tasty."

"What about the hot pot? The sushi? Fried chicken?"

Syaoran suddenly glared at her, "Fried chicken is mine."

"Oh no it isn't," Sakura growled. "You're talking to a master at taking as many fried chicken as possible!"

"Really?" Syaoran cocked an eyebrow at her, grabbing his chopsticks, as she did the same. "They're serving the chicken after the dim sum – which will be taken away in five seconds. Watch out, kid."

"I wouldn't be talking if I were you," Sakura shot back, and the two newlyweds locked themselves in a death-like glare.

Seriously, you could see the lightning connecting their eyes.

But as the waiter removed the empty plates and placed down the platter of the married couple's favorites, Yelan came forward, announcing, "Time for you two to go around!"

Sakura knocked Syaoran's arm away and grabbed the biggest drumstick from the mountain, beaming in victory. "I GOT ONE!" she said gleefully, putting it down on her plate and sticking her tongue out at Syaoran. "HA! Too slow!"

"…"

"… come on, we can't keep the guests waiting!" Sakura coughed nervously, jumped up and threw her napkin on her vacated seat, grabbing Syaoran by the arm. She took her glass as he did the same, and for a moment they just stood there, looking at the filled hall.

"Um," Sakura started, "do we need to do this?"

"It's tradition, in Chinese weddings," Syaoran mumbled, not looking too happy himself. "There are a lot of tables, we're going to have to give a toast at each one – are you sure you can handle that much alcohol?"

"Are you implying that I'm weak?" Sakura huffed, clenching her glass tighter. "I'M NOT! I can handle it!"

"We can replace the champagne with some sparkling water, no one will notice –"

"I said, are you implying that I'm weak?" she repeated, and not giving him a chance to reply. "Cause I'm not! I'M NOT!"

Syaoran glanced nervously around them as several heads turned towards their direction. "Will you keep it down?" he hissed, grabbing onto her hand. "They're not deaf, you know. And who knows, someone might be disguised as one of the media, I don't want our marriage to be labeled a failure within its first two hours –"

And as if on cue, someone on the other side of the hall started taking pictures. Bright flashes emitted from the camera, making Syaoran and Sakura as well as the rest of the guests shield their eyes.

"SECURITY!" someone screamed from their table. "SECURITY! Where are those little creeps? DIDN'T WE SAY NO MEDIA?"

As they watched some uniformed men drag the reporter away ("CONGRATULATIONS! HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE MARRIED TO THE NUMBER ONE BACHELOR IN ASIA? ARE YOU HAVING ANY REGRETS? HOW MANY DUMPLINGS DID YOU EAT – MMMF!"), Sakura asked Syaoran, "Who's that?"

"My grandmother. Haven't you met her already?"

"No," Sakura replied, frowning. "And I didn't mean her, I meant that guy they just dragged out – doesn't he look familiar?"

"Come to think of it, yeah," Syaoran took another gulp of his drink. "Hey – that's the girl from our class!"

"Girl?"

"Yeah, the girl who sits behind me, the-girl-who-hasn't-trimmed-or-washed-her-hair-in-ages," Syaoran nodded.

"What? I thought that was the greasy-haired-guy-who-hasn't-trimmed-his-hair-in-years!" Sakura gawked, now squinting to see the guy/girl/both genders/pigeon.

"That can't be a guy. Look at the length of that hair!"

"A girl wouldn't leave her hair unwashed for decades!" she retorted, before adding, "Besides, your hair's about the same length –"

"That's an insult," he glowered at her. "And it's not the same length, I just don't like hair-so-short-it-looks-like-I'm-bald."

"I still think it's a guy," Sakura stated simply.

"It's a girl, I tell you," Syaoran rolled his eyes, but frowned and cocked his head to the side. "But if you look at her from this angle … she looks like a guy."

Sakura followed suit, still squinting. "Hmm, he looks like a girl in this perspective."

The both of them stood their, champagne flutes in hand, head cocked to the left side. They were starting to attract curious looks – well, wouldn't you?

"Syaoran," Sakura said, breaking their silence, head still in position.

"Hn."

"My neck's starting to hurt."

After they forced their heads to remain straight, Yelan walked towards them with a slight frown on her face. "You've been standing here for nearly ten minutes," she said curtly. "If you stand here any longer the guests will turn into mold. Now," she placed a hand on each of their backs, forcing them to walk, "there's someone who'd like to meet you," she said to Sakura, who was still rubbing her neck.

Before she could ask who it was, a small, fragile-looking woman approached them. Sakura had to look down to look into her eyes; this woman was a head shorter than her – maybe even more.

"So," the old lady barked, surprising Sakura, "this is my new granddaughter, is it?"

"Yes, Mama," Yelan sighed. "The least you can do is be a little polite, don't scare the poor girl –"

"Polite?" Syaoran's grandmother snorted. "I am being polite! Shush," she held a finger up as Yelan opened her mouth to retort. "Now, let me have a good look at the newest Li."

Sakura couldn't help but feel edgy and nervous as her grandmother-in-law stood on her tip toes, examining her face closely before walking a circle around her, slowly looking her over. What if she didn't approve? Sakura couldn't help but wonder. What if there's something on my tooth? Or on my face? Damn it – there's a rice sticking to the end of my nose, isn't there? I can feel it. Crap, crappity crap crap crap, this is so embarrassing, I need to get it off, get it off – maybe if I wrinkle my nose, it'll fall off?

As Sakura busily focused on wriggling her nose, looking slightly cross-eyed, Syaoran's grandmother announced, "My husband chose well," she said, then smiled at Sakura, which astonished her. "You're a beauty, darling!"

"Uh," Sakura cleared her throat, her thoughts on the rice forgotten, "thank you?"

"Call me Nana," she beamed at her, patting her hand. "We're family now!"

"Er – yes, of course," Sakura blushed slightly.

"You!" Nana boomed, turning towards Syaoran, who winced a little. The little woman had a surprisingly loud voice. "Treat this one well! You'll regret it if you don't. Is that understood?"

Syaoran seemed to cower under his grandmother's glare, which made Sakura giggle. "Yes, Nana."

"Good," she grinned, holding up her glass. "Let's get going, then!"

Syaoran started to follow, but stopped when Sakura prodded his arm. Turning around, he looked in the direction of Sakura's gaze – at the platter of fried chicken.

Minus the fried chicken.

"There's none left?" he gasped. "NONE?"

"This means I win!"

"What?"

"I got that drumstick before we had to get up – no – wait!" Sakura groaned as she saw Touya grab her plate and take her food. "YOU STUPID TURKEY HEAD! That's mine, that's mine, you – damn it, he bit into it."

Syaoran had to chuckle. "Let's get going," he said, grabbing her arm and leading her to the first table.

His new wife didn't say anything, merely glared at her brother over her shoulder.

A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! And yes, I lied. SORRY! D: I found time to type this up, heh. This is only half of the wedding, look out for the next chapter! ;D I think I'll upload it before I leave, maybe mid-July. (:

Destiny921: Thanks for the suggestion! Hope it meets your expectations, haha.

Mystic Moon Empress: I wouldn't say airheaded, just a little hyper. LOL.

MoonLove Angel: I'll definitely put those four in! I almost forgot them, shame on me. O:

Kero: I'm definitely putting that in! The wedding part isn't over yet though, so … yesh. Thanks for the suggestion! (:

Insanity-ward: I'm not too sure, but I'll definitely stay there for a couple of years. I'm in Taiwan now. I don't feel like moving anymore, my whole life story can be summed up in one word: moving. XD

REVIEW KTHX. I worked hard for the chapter, I Googled it up and even asked my mom about traditional Chinese weddings. She got all suspicious and was going 'ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME SOMETHING?'

LOLYEAHRIGHT.

It wasn't all traditional though, the whole process is so long and boring I cut some parts out. Whoo.

So, anyway, where was I? Oh yeah.

REVIIIIIIIEW!