Story 20 / Collection 2: You captivate me
A night for suits and dresses.
Natarle stood in front of her bathroom mirror, regretting every decision she did not make that led her to this moment.
"Natarle, are you ready?" Arnold's voice came from their bedroom, "We need to leave soon."
She bit her lip lightly, holding back the response she was screaming in her mind.
Exactly how was she going to leave the house like this, with her being only as good as half dressed?
Everything else was sorted. She had done her makeup, going for a very light touch on the eyes and swapping her usual lipstick colour for a vermilion red to complement the dark navy of her dress. She had also done her hair—'There isn't much to do about it anyway', she thought to herself as she tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear, at the same time checking that her earrings were locked in place.
Everything was good to go, except the dress.
She turned around to assess her situation again, and scowled into the reflection of the back of her dress. Or more precisely, the lack of one.
To be fair, the dress itself was beautiful. It was made of a very lightweight satin that hung onto her skin with a cool, feathery touch, gliding perfectly along every curve of her body as it reached the floor. The front of the dress was modest enough, the neckline running across her shoulders just below her collarbone. But the back; oh the back.
There was nothing—except her skin—until just above the back of her waist.
How could she have missed this in the first place?
She had not suspected anything when Arnold told her he had her dress sorted; she was just thankful for him having handled the whole ordeal for her. She was not even sure how they ended up on the guest list of this private black tie fundraiser event held by Cagalli to begin with, but she had been dreading it as soon as she was informed that attendance was a must, and no uniforms were allowed.
To make it worse, the invitation came during a period where she had too many things going on at work, leaving very little time for herself. She could barely squeeze in time for meals, let alone go dress shopping. So when Arnold offered to take care of it for her with the help of Murrue, she only felt gratitude towards both of them.
But right now, she wanted to take all that back.
She was kicking herself for not having thought through it more clearly. She should have picked up that something was amiss when Murrue called her out of the blue, sounding giddy, telling her that it was all being arranged, that Arnold has really good taste, and all she had to do was wear the dress on the day. If none of those clues made it obvious enough, then at least the offhand comment Murrue made, telling her she had a body shape even professional models would be jealous of, so there was absolutely nothing to worry about.
She only had herself to blame, for not anticipating what their 'help' entailed until she put on the dress for the first time ten minutes ago.
"Natarle," came Arnold's voice again, sounding a little bit more urgent this time, but laced with humour. "You can't stay in there forever. We're going to be late."
That man, he knew what he was doing.
She let out a restrained sigh, then took a deep breath to prepare herself as she opened the door. She pulled up some of the skirt fabric so she could walk easier, before stepping out of the bathroom and going straight at him, "Why would you think this dress is a good idea?"
As soon as her eyes landed on Arnold, she came to a halt.
Oh, what a magnificent sight to behold.
He was just putting on his suit jacket, the last piece of his attire. Underneath it he had donned a crisp white dress shirt and a dark blue double-breasted waistcoat, with a black bow tie to match his jacket. The fit was perfect, and it accentuated his lean yet muscular build. Classic colours blended with classic textures—nothing that screamed for attention, just very understated. His hair was styled to part on one side, adding a bit of maturity to his baby face, and somehow it brought out the brilliance of his green eyes.
This was the first time she had ever seen him like this. Arnold was never fussy about the way he dressed, going for plain shirts and casual suits or pullovers with jeans most of the time; always clean, smart, and simple. But this—this was a work of art.
He was fixing his cufflinks, but his gaze was trained onto her, sharp and focused—just as she was unable to take her eyes off of him.
He was gorgeous.
The corner of his lips pulled into a slow, self-indulgent smile as he moved towards her.
"You're beautiful," his low voice sounded quietly. "The dress does you justice."
She felt a warmness rising up to her face. Right, the dress—she was supposed to be annoyed with him, but that was clearly no longer relevant.
His smile broke into a wide grin at the sight of her flushed cheeks. He reached for the cabinet next to her and grabbed the necklace sitting on top, took one end in each hand and brought them around her neck.
She could feel him breathing into her ear—she suspected it was intentional—and the warm air sent her into a slight quiver. Her face was hovering close to his broad shoulders, and he smelled nice; just a very light dab of cologne, but one would only know if you were standing this close, with your nose in his neck.
It was doing things to her. Her heart was beating at a different rhythm, and she tried to distract herself with something else—anything else, that could keep her mind off his scent in her nose, him breathing onto her skin, and his tantalising presence encasing her.
She mindlessly lifted her hand and reached for the lapel of his waistcoat. It had a similar hue and sheen to the fabric of her dress, but felt much sturdier. Did he purposely match them? He had it all planned out from the beginning, had he not?
"There," she heard Arnold say, straightening himself to look at his handiwork, then tracing his fingers along her collarbone to move the small emerald pendant of her necklace to its rightful place.
"Perfect," he whispered as his attention shifted from her pendant to her. He was looking into her eyes—and her eyes only—yet the intensity of his gaze made her feel as though he was seeing every single inch of her body. He ran his hand along her neckline—she felt her skin shiver along the trail of his touch—and he closed in, his face a mere breath away from hers. His eyes were gleaming. "You're so perfect, Natarle."
He needed to stop doing this to her. Her whole body was heating up—was it the room or was it her?—and her heartbeat was completely out of control; his every movement, every word, was tempting her thoughts to wander off somewhere they should not go. It was almost as if her good senses had abandoned her.
All because of his stupid fancy suit and his stupid handsome face.
She leaned in by just the tiniest fraction—her body moved on its own, her mind entirely unaware—and he already dived in with a kiss.
A slow, deep kiss, then another, and another.
Now was not the time for this, but she did not want him to stop. Her grasp onto his suit tightened, and he responded by pressing her body to his. It was an odd sensation—with layers of fabric between their bodies, while his warm hand roamed along her bare back—but it felt good all the same. If she was going to suffer this dress the whole night, she would rather he kept his hand where it was right now for the entire time.
Which brings her back to the issue at hand.
"We're going to be late," she murmured, repeating what he said just moments earlier.
"Hmm," came his non-committal hum, with no intention of stopping.
She was not sure they would make it on time.
o-o-o
They did in the end, because Arnold was driving.
Side story: The invitation
All was quiet except for the gentle hum of the vacuum cleaner, and the tumbling of the washing machine in the background.
It was Arnold's day off, and he had planned to get as much house cleaning done as possible, so that Natarle could spend what little precious hours of her free time these days relaxing with him, instead of having to worry about mundane household chores.
He felt the buzz of his phone ringing in his pocket. He stopped the vacuum, and took out his phone.
He looked at the caller ID—Cagalli. Odd; they were on friendly terms for sure, but she was definitely not someone he would be expecting to call.
He could not even get in a 'hi' when he put the phone to his ear; her voice came almost instantly through the speaker.
"Neumann! I heard from Ramius that you're not coming to my fundraiser?"
Arnold held in a sigh; it seemed like someone had not changed much, still impatient as ever. "Hi, nice to hear from you too, Cagalli. Yes, unfortunately I think we'll take a rain check on this one."
"Oh, sorry, yeah how are you? Sounds like you're doing well," she said with an awkward chuckle and a complete change in tone, suddenly calm and somewhat apologetic. "Look, I haven't officially sent out the invitations yet, so your rejection is not official either. I was thinking, maybe… is there any chance you would change your mind?"
Not really, if he was honest. Murrue had briefly told him and Natarle about the event a while ago. She did not say much—only that it was happening and the Archangel crew would be invited—and they expressed that they were not particularly keen on joining. Neither of them enjoyed these types of events; Natarle had been to her fair share for her familial duties in the past, and described herself akin to a cat being thrown into water and forced to swim.
And really, she was so overworked recently that he just wanted her to have a good rest during her time off.
"Well, it's not really our thing."
"But I need you guys there! It's my first time hosting a fundraiser, and I'm freaking out! I'm not good at these things. All this socialising is just like… a completely different battlefield! And I just really, really want some familiar faces there with me. Please, can you two come?"
Arnold was starting to feel sorry for her, but he was not sure why she insisted on him and Natarle. "What about the others? Aren't they going?"
He heard Cagalli make a sad whiny sound before explaining, "Ramius and Fllaga said they weren't sure they could make it and didn't want to make any promises, and asked me to check again with you guys. Chandra and the gang said they'll only come if you two are coming. I haven't asked Miri and Sai yet, but they'll probably turn it down too if they get wind of this."
"Kira will be there-"
"Yes but he's just one person! Ok fine, there's Athrun and Lacus too. But please, I just really want the Archangel crew to come, I need the mental support!"
Arnold felt himself wanting to give in; he owed her a few favours anyway, since she was the one who made it possible for him and Natarle to start their new life in Orb. If Natarle was here, she would probably go soft on her too, knowing from experience what these events were like. He sighed, mulling aloud, "I don't know, it seems like a lot of work figuring out what to wear."
"I'll foot the bill!" He could hear the hopefulness rising in her voice. "Buy any suit or dress you want! Get something nice for Captain Badgiruel—whatever you want! Deal?"
Arnold went quiet. An idea popped into his head.
Unsure what his silence meant, Cagalli took it as him backtracking and resorted to threatening him. "Don't make me make it an order!"
He almost laughed. "Fine. But you know what, do make it an order; my life would be easier if you did."
An audible gasp of glee was heard over the phone. "Is that a yes?"
"Yes, it's a yes," he affirmed her, "and remember you promised you're paying for all of it."
"Yeah yeah, that's fine! Anything else?"
"Can you do something about her workload too? What's the point if she ends up not being able to go, right?"
"Man, you sure know how to drive a bargain. Yeah, consider it done."
Good. It seems like he should start planning then.
[Prompt title 2: スーツ / Suit]
Author's note
Writing notes for this chapter are on Twitter/X.
