Hey, guys. Sorry, it's been a busy month. It's only going to get busier, since I graduate in September, and I have HSC exams in October. It might seem like three or four months is a long way away, but… it's really not. I'm freaking out a bit here, guys! So, sorry in advance for any lapse of silence on my part.

Disclaimer: I do not own Card Captor or anything associated with it. All rights to Card Captor Sakura and affiliated products belong to CLAMP and the other proper entities.

Summary: A secret fling with the school nerd was all that it was supposed to be. Sakura's deepest, darkest fear is that it'll be revealed. Little does she know... its already too late; it'll eventually have to be revealed in the most public fashion possible.

Rating: M

Pairings: SxS ExT

Genre: Drama/Romance

Something of Yours

Chapter Nineteen

Tomoyo stood in the foyer of Eriol's English family home, marvelling at the difference in cultures. Eriol, though of both Chinese and Japanese descent, had merely shrugged at her admiration, and stated that she'd 'get used to it'. Nevertheless, Tomoyo took her time carefully going over each and every cultural item that she could find; she identified a few pieces as French, or Italian, but the bulk of the furniture and ornaments were of distinct English origin. However, there were also distinct hints of Japanese and Chinese themes, as well.

"Do you like that portrait?" Eriol's elderly grandmother asked her from behind, as she inspected a particularly Japanese-looking painting, startling the young woman out of her wits. "It's of my late husband. It was painted just before the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings. He died three days after it was completed. My daughters and I had to flee the country shortly after receiving it."

Tomoyo whipped around to bow to the elder Japanese woman respectfully. "I'm sorry." She whispered. "It really is a wonderful portrait, Li-san." She added, remembering that all men who married into the Li Clan took the name of the women; though Eriol's father was a special case – as his mother was only half-Chinese, it was deemed appropriate for the 'mixed blood' to distance themselves from the Clan by taking on new names.

"Eriol, the dear, looks just like him." Tomoyo found herself nodding in agreement. "Come on, dear, I'll show you the gardens." She extended an arm toward Tomoyo, who looped hers with the older woman eagerly. She found herself thinking of how privileged Eriol was to have grown up in such a happy place; though her mother was wealthy, her father was never around like his was – and that made all the difference to Tomoyo.

Saturday afternoon found Sakura fretting over dinner, knowing that it would be only the second time that Syaoran would actually be home in time for dinner since they'd arrived. Over the eight and a half weeks that they'd lived there, he'd had to work late nights for his training, which had officially ended the day before. She'd normally just cooked whatever she wanted, and put his in the fridge for him to reheat when he got home; but that night she wanted to impress him. She wanted to show him that she wasn't completely useless – not that he'd ever said that. That was just her hormones playing tricks on her mind.

The kitchen was a mess. She'd decided on yakisoba, sukiyaki, yakitori, and miso soup – the ingredients for which she'd picked up at the grocery store that morning. The old man at the store had been shocked to see her twice in the same week, and with such 'exotic' ingredients – at least, they were to him – but had greeted her with a smile nonetheless.

With the various pots on the stove boiling, Sakura allowed herself the chance to clean up all the packets and scraps from the ingredients that she'd used. Satisfied with how the meal was progressing, she managed to sit down and rub her back to attempt to soothe the aching. Being unable to lie on her back had taken its toll on her sleeping, though she supposed she was glad that the baby had started to sleep during the nights as well.

She almost had a heart attack when the phone started to ring in the hall. Taking a moment to steady her heartbeat and take a calming breath, she answered it with a careful "Hello?" in Mandarin.

"Hello, Darling." Her father's voice spoke from the other end of the line, sounding very drained. "How are you doing?"

"I'm alright." Sakura slipped back into her native tongue. "My back is killing me, but otherwise I'm fine. How're things there?"

"Same as last week." She could hear rustling in the background, and guessed that her father was also preparing dinner for himself, and possibly Touya and Yukito if they were visiting. "Tomoyo-san and Hiiragizawa-san are still in England. Yelan-san has gone back to Hong Kong, though." He continued, not hearing Sakura's startled gasp. "Touya-san and Yukito-san are in town for the long weekend. I really wish you were here, Sakura-san."

"You and me both." Sakura sighed. "When did Yelan-san leave?"

"Uh…" her father's voice trailed off for a moment, "last night?" He sounded very uncertain. "I'm not really sure if it was last night or the night before, to be perfectly honest." He admitted sheepishly. Sakura smiled slightly, ignoring the queasy feeling that suddenly overcame her, knowing it had nothing to do with the baby. "Do you have a bassinette for the little one, yet?" He asked suddenly, intruding on Sakura's thoughts.

"It's being delivered tomorrow." She almost whispered. "Syaoran finished painting the nursery three days ago."

"What colour is it?"

"Light purple."

"Ah. Tomoyo-san will be pleased."

"Yeah…"

There was a pause. Fujitaka seemed to hesitate for a moment, before asking, "Have you been taking care of yourself?"

"Yes, Otou-san." Sakura let out in a whoosh of breath, almost exasperated. "Like I'm not going to after you told me about Aoi-onee-chan." She whispered, knowing how sensitive the topic was to her father. "I promise I'm taking care of myself – and when I can't, Syaoran definitely is!" She added brightly. "He's being really supportive."

"I knew he would be." Fujitaka sounded almost smug, Sakura thought, if that were at all possible. "So, when can we expect the wedding invitations?" He almost sounded serious.

Sakura laughed uneasily, not knowing why she was suddenly so conscious of the fact that they had not kissed since eight and a half weeks previously, when they had first moved in. "Don't get carried away, Otou-san." She scolded, feeling more like she was talking to Tomoyo than anyone else – who had asked her exactly the same question a week previously. "Ah! I have to go!" She freaked out as she heard the front door open. "I'll talk to you another time."

"Have a good week, darling. Give Li-san my best." Her father's smile was audible. "I love you; don't forget that."

"I will. I love you too, Otou-san." Sakura whispered, hanging up and making her way to the hall, to see Syaoran removing his shoes.

A bright smile greeted him as he looked up. "Hello." He drawled pleasantly.

"Hi." She blurted sheepishly, lowering her gaze to her feet. "Your day?"

"Pretty good. Yours?"

"Long and boring."

He smiled apologetically. "I wish I could let you go out more often, but it's too dangerous." He admitted. "I know you hate being cooped up inside."

"It's not so bad." Sakura's eyes didn't leave the floor. "I went to the store again today."

"What did you buy?"

Sakura mentally slapped herself, hating how awkward the conversations had been between them in the last week or so. Every time he looked at her, her insides turned to jelly. Her cheeks heated. Her heartbeat increased. It was almost like it was when they were still in school together, before his change of image, before Tomoyo had found out about them; except it was more innocent this time around. There were no overpowering feelings of lust, no pull of the danger of discovery to entice her. There was simply him and his smile. His support. His overwhelming ability to bring her peace of mind.

"Um, just some things for dinner." Her eyes widened as she bustled away, having almost forgotten about their dinner on the stove.

He grinned as he leant on the doorframe, watching her bustle around the kitchen. "Do you want some help?" He offered.

"No, no I'm alright." She waved him off. "You've been at work all day."

"And you're pregnant." He chastised, all but forcing her into the chair at the table. "Let me." He insisted at her protests. "Don't make me tie you down." He winked playfully.

Sakura sighed in exasperation. "I meant to have it ready for when you got home." She confessed.

Syaoran looked like he was about to be sick. "Never, ever, do that sort of thing." He grimaced.

"What do you mean?" Sakura asked, confused. Surely every man wanted that, right?

"Do you have any idea what you sound like, Sakura?" He prompted. Sakura could tell from the tone of his voice that he thought she was being ridiculous; but about what, she couldn't imagine. She was simply trying to make his time stuck with her as comfortable as possible – especially considering as the little peaceful time they had left would soon come to an end with the arrival of their daughter.

Such an odd thought, Sakura mused. 'Their daughter'.

And suddenly it hit her. She was acting like the female stereotype; right down to the bare feet, she frowned, wiggling her toes against the wooden floor. "Ew."

"'Ew', indeed." Syaoran chuckled.

"Sorry." Sakura apologised sheepishly, nervously rubbing the back of her neck. "I guess I got too carried away."

Syaoran shook his head. "Don't worry, I do it too." He admitted. "It's just so easy to…" he trailed off, searching for the word, "pretend." He finally settled on. Sakura stared at his back; he refused to turn to face her until the food was ready.

By the time he turned, the faraway longing in his eyes had been replaced by a gentle strictness that Sakura knew meant that he was about to be quite impossibly, sweetly overbearing.

She loved it when he acted that way. She loved how he took care of her. She loved how he was always there for her. She loved that he was willing to put everything on the line for her. Over the last few months, she was coming to realise that she loved a lot of things about him – it was not so simple, she realised, as switching a light on and off; the electricity that they had generated in the beginning of their so-called 'relationship' had built up, and now the light was burning strong. At least, it was for her.

She loved him.

Syaoran couldn't sleep that night. No matter how much tossing and turning he did, he couldn't seem to switch off his thoughts and drift off into slumber – he was too wired. It was like he'd drunk a gallon of coke, and then another gallon of coffee, with the addition of eating a tonne of chocolate. There was no way he was sleeping that night, he knew. Which was ok, he decided; it was Sunday the next day, anyway.

He could hear Sakura's gentle snoring in the room across the hall, smiling softly. Making sure not to make any loud noises, he slipped out of his room, and across the hall.

Her door was already open. He leant in the frame, watching her slightly. She was curled up on her side, hugging the pillow to her body, a small frown on her features. Syaoran almost laughed as she muttered something about socks in her sleep. She always said the weirdest things in her dreams.

He froze as she stirred a little, calming himself when she settled. He did not notice the increase in her breathing, of the fact that she was too still to be asleep. He was too lost in his own thoughts.

This was not the first time he had observed her in her sleep; in fact, he did it almost every night, long after she fell asleep. There was something about the evenness of her breathing, the mumbling in her sleep, which gave him a sense of peace. The added bump to her belly – a discomfort he felt slightly guilty for – made her seem all the more surreal to him. Her cargo was precious to him, just as the carrier herself had come to be.

He loved her.

He had for a long time, really, he mused. Ever since he'd first stepped into that classroom, God only knew how long ago, there'd been something there. Maybe he was being silly, he chastised himself, and maybe he was reading too much into things in hindsight. All he knew now was that, after the baby was born, they would more than likely practically go their separate ways – after all, wasn't this arrangement purely temporary?

He'd let himself get out of hand, he realised rather suddenly. The nursery, for one thing. It would likely be used a grand total of once, before they left. He had no doubt that Fujitaka was already setting one up in his own house for when Sakura returned home with her baby. Syaoran slapped himself. He really was an idiot. He should only be there when she needed him for the baby, he told himself sternly, frowning slightly at her prone form. It would only hurt them both if he were to hold on more than he had a right to.

"I love you, Sakura." He whispered to himself. He turned around and went back to his own room, suddenly drained. He loved her, but he would let her live her life on her own, the way she wanted.

He missed Sakura's eyes flickering open in shock as he turned, just a mere second after his eyes left her face.

He missed the intake of breath so slight that Sakura herself had difficulty registering it.

He missed it as Sakura sat up in bed, starting after him with wide, astonished jade-coloured eyes.

He missed her small whisper of "I love you, too."

So cliché, but I was never one for too much originality. Ok, so they know how they feel about the other, and Sakura knows how Syaoran feels about her. I'm wrapping up in a few chapters. The end is near!

Until next time!