Title: Borrowed

Fandom: Digimon

Pairing: Sora/Mimi

Rating: PG-13

Words: 1061

Summary: Sometimes, Mimi is enough to make Sora want to hit herself over the head with a comedy frying pan.

Sora had experienced the rather unpleasant sensation of being in the same room as Mr. Ishida as he watched Sailor Moon.

It hadn't been intentional. Yamato had been frantically searching his room for his Chemistry text book, which it later turned out Taichi had 'borrowed' without asking, and Mr. Ishida had been watching television and Sora had sat on the couch while she waited. They'd made polite conversation and then the show had started and Mr. Ishida was hooked.

And he wasn't obvious about it, didn't drool or moan or, God, touch himself, because Sora wouldn't have been able to cope with that. Would have run screaming from the room. But he stopped mid-sentence, forgetting Sora, transfixed by Sailor Scouts and he'd shifted just so in his chair and Sora had bitten her lip and tried not to look where her eyes were naturally being drawn.

And Yamato had reappeared, saving her from her own morbid curiosity, giving up his book for lost, and they'd left for the library. And Yamato had called goodbye to his father and didn't seem bothered about not receiving a reply.

Sora knew the effect those little fuku uniforms could have on men. She didn't understand it herself, because all these men had probably, once upon a time, attended a high school where their fellow female students wore a similar uniform. Maybe that was the point; a throwback to childhood, when relationships were easy and lust was acceptable. Sora could only guess.

She still remembered vividly being called to the school auditorium, along with the other girls in her school, and her principal warning them all with a grave face that there were nasty men hanging around outside the school at lunchtime. And the hall had erupted in cries of "perverts" and giggles and it had almost seemed like a joke, these sad men, never trying to talk to anyone, never trying to touch. Just watching.

And Sora knew Mr. Ishida wasn't a pervert, and that he was actually very nice, and had never been anything less than polite and respectful towards her. But she still made a point of changing out of her school uniform and into something more bulky and conservative whenever she visited Yamato at home.

So, yes, Sora knew all about the stigma attached to Japanese high school uniforms, and, no, she didn't understand it.

Hadn't understood it.

Was starting to understand it just a little too well.

And Mimi was twirling, and that really wasn't helping the situation.

"This is so cute," Mimi was cooing and Sora struggled to concentrate on her voice and not her legssolongsoendlesshelpme. "Almost makes me wish we had uniforms at my school."

Mimi patted down the skirt, and turned to admire herself in the mirror and Sora stopped breathing. Mimi may have been a year younger, but she already had a slightly more feminine figure than Sora. More curvaceous, more round, somehow softer. All over. And the skirt that was only vaguely decent on Sora was positively sinful on Mimi, skimming just barely over the tops of her thighs, caressing the contours of her backside.

Mimi spun back to Sora, huge grin on her face, and Sora caught a hint of the white cotton underneath where the skirt flew out around her.

Sora desperately started to think of excuses for sticking her head in the oven. "Oh, I'm just cold, Mimi. Don't worry, I do this all the time. Would you mind turning the dial on the stove? High as it can go. Thanks, you're a good friend."

Mimi brought her hands up behind her head and cocked her hip in a playful pose. "What do you think? Does it suit me?"

Sora couldn't help but notice the way the shirt edged up slightly to expose a lightly tanned waist and wondered how she'd explain a sudden nosebleed.

Mimi's face fell. "That bad, huh?" she sighed, arms falling to her side.

Sora slapped herself internally and struggled to school her features into a reassuring and friendly grin, rather than the suggestive leer she knew they wanted to form.

"No, it looks great on you," she enthused.

Maybe a little too enthusiastic, because now Mimi was blinking at her and Sora knew she was blushing.

"I mean, it, um, suits you." She was starting to babble and wasn't sure how to stop. "The green looks really .. nice. With your, er, your complexion. I mean, when I wear it, it clashes with my hair. But on you, yeah, it looks .. really nice."

Mimi tilted her head and looked down at herself, and Sora's eyes followed her gaze, but got trapped halfway down, transfixed by the way the material strained over Mimi's more ample breasts.

"Really, really nice."

Mimi stared at her.

Sora blushed some more.

The oven was looking more and more tempting.

"You really think so?" Mimi squealed, sudden enough that Sora jumped.

And then she had an armful of ecstatic fuku-modelling DigiDestined.

Breath on her neck, arms around her waist, fingers against her skin; Mimi pressed bodily against her and Sora could feel every curve.

She was pretty certain she squeaked.

Mimi pulled back, beaming. "Thanks, Sora. You're so good to me."

Sora was still trying to think of a reply when she felt herself lean forward and press her lips against Mimi's. Quick, soft, chaste, and enough to raise goosebumps on Sora's skin.

Didn't want to pull back, kind of wanted to throw herself out of a window, but Sora forced herself to open her eyes and look at Mimi's reaction.

Mimi was smiled wryly, shaking her head slightly.

"Why didn't you just say so, silly?" she laughed and then her lips were back against Sora's, and it took Sora a moment to realise that Mimi was the one initiating the contact this time. Warm and easy and perfect, full lips and a hint of tongue and Sora was dizzy, knew if she threw herself out of a window now she might just fly.

Mimi pulled back, spinning out of her arms, giggling, skirt twirling out around her once again. Sora stood there, mouth open, panting slightly, arms still outstretched as if holding someone, watching Mimi dance back towards Sora's wardrobe.

"What else can I try on?" Mimi called.

Sora's mind instantly flew to her underwear drawer.

"Whatever you want," she replied breathlessly.