"Soft... and..."

"And?" an inquistive brow raised.

He implored. "and.. squishy."

"Soft and squishy. Soft and -squishy-."

Pause, thought. "Yes, that about sums it up."

Tomoyo frowned. She was a girl who rarely frowned for her patience was relative to that of a saint's. Patience was a virtue, she had learnt over the years shared with her best friend Sakura. She even learnt more of this virtue when Li Syaoran had appeared in Tomoeda, poised with a sword in hand. However, she was frowning now, a ludicrous occurance in the minds of those who knew her, and her patience was slipping through her fingers like sand.

Frowning was a bad exercise that would form wrinkles in one's later years. Frowning was an activity that she was growing accustomed to, having met a certain dark-haired paradox. A frown coming from her meant many things: deep thought, dissatisfaction, concentration or a license to throttle. In this case, it was the last option. She wished desperately that her sewing kit was near her for it contained a certain heavy, metal object was was also becoming accustomed to using. She struggled and pulled back from the warm folds of his cotton shirt but was pulled back in again.

Eriol merely smiled placatingly as he stroked her hair in long, slow strokes. She fumed in embarassment as her body went rigid. It was hazy how the two had ended up in a situation like this, haloed in the soft light of his fireplace. The two had bumped into each other last week at the bookstore and discovered that they both shared the same tastes for poetry. After some pleasant banter and catching up, Eriol had proposed that they convene for another meeting to discuss their readings. One meeting lead to another and he realized how well they played off each other. He grew to enjoy the afternoons and evenings they spent, hunched over one of his favourites from Clow's library and murmuring in cups of Earl Grey.

"You may stop hugging me now," Tomoyo murmured from his chest, growing more uncomfortable by the minute.

"I could... but I don't think I shall. You are rather pleasant to hug, Daidouji-san."

Her fingers twitched, "I am feeling very uncomfortable here. Please let me go."

"No," he beamed. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and he cocked his head back to adjust them, "you were the one who wanted a hug in the first place."

"Since when did I ask such a thing?!" Tomoyo glanced up to stare into Eriol's eyes, "you.. you just attacked me!"

"Attack? A friendly hug is an attack?" he feigned hurt and loosened his hold just a fraction so he could pull back and take in her face fully, "My, my Daidouji-san, what a defensive person you are!"

Her eyebrows drew together and she frowned even more. Her mouth opened to shoot out the words that would surely topple and leave Eriol speechless, but he drew his face closer to hers and the words fell short.

"Does physical proximity scare you so much, Daidouji-san?"

God, did she feel like smacking the cheeky British boy, "You called me soft and squishy, Hiiragizawa-kun. I prefer more eloquent words
than words you would use to describe your manhood."

Oh, since when had Tomoyo become so snake-tongued, Eriol observed with delighted amusement. "Oh, so you -don't- mind
that I'm hugging you then? You were only insulted by the words I was using. Then shall I compare you to a flower? A weed?
A fabric? Or maybe I should break into a long-winded spiel about your ebony tresses and your porcelain skin?"

Ugh, now he was going too far, she thought as her cheeks reddened even more. Eriol gazed in mild curiosity as Tomoyo's face
reddened, then froze and he realized too late that she was planning something all along. She squirmed and planted a heel on
his foot, in which Eriol reacted with a slight yelp and a relinquish in his hold of her. She danced almost gracefully out of his flailing
arms and placed her hands on her hips.

"Down, Hiiragizawa."

Eriol boggled as he glanced up from his sore foot. She was full of surprises tonight. "-What-?"

"Down."

"Nakuru! Did you lace something in the tea again?" Eriol called over his shoulder.

"No! I ran out last night!" his Guardian replied in a mock-forlorn voice.

"Must I say it more than I need to, Hiiragizawa-kun? Get -down-."

"You sound like a bad pop song, Daidouji-san," Eriol would've continued if it weren't for the deep, dangerous frown marring the usually
placid girl. "Um..."

"Fine, if you do not want to get down," she approached Eriol with a particularly heavy tome they were examining, "then you shall bend over so I can-- "

Eriol was already on the run.