Please Read:I seriously considered rearranging this fic because I don't feel like the first section flows as well as the rest of the fic, and since it is the first section, and kinda the selling point of the whole thing, that isn't good. So, I simply want to say, even if you aren't sure you like this fic while reading that first part, please at least read a bit of the second section before you decide you don't want to read any more.

AN:Wow. This started as a simple idea that I thought about using for MILK, or even GS, but then it grew into what I think is quite possibly one of my favorite sokai's to date. I think all of it but that first section turned out pretty well. oneshot. postKH2. sokai.


R a g g e d y A n d y

Her fabric patchwork boy

Kairi usually prides herself on being a good listener, and she supposes that still holds true even though she knows next to nothing about what the boys are talking about.

They are plotting a paintballing excursion; could she be blamed for zoning out? The last time she'd gone paintballing with them she'd ended up with numerous bruises and a broken pointer finger.

She is still listening though—the constant melody of Sora's smooth voice is quite enough for her. It is a soothing sound—and she internally giggles because she knows she couldn't have made that comment a year ago, when his voice sounded like someone had put a hamster in a dying trumpet. (AN1)

"Hey Sora, has anyone ever told you that your voice sounds like Rayon?" Both boys pause and turn to stare at her. They know that Kairi zoned out of their conversations when they started off on some masculine, testosterone-infused subject, but they were not entirely accustomed to her blurting out some random comment in the middle of a sentence.

"What?" Sora asks, one eyebrow raised.

Kairi's lips quirk upwards at the adorable look of confusion painted across her boy's face. "Your voice sounds like Rayon." She states simply.

The boys blink at her, puzzled.

"What's Rayon?" comes Riku's reply. Kairi shakes her head at her own naivety. She should have known better than to assume that these boys knew any fabrics beyond cotton, polyester, leather, and possibly wool.

"Rayon. It's a fabric."

"My voice sounds like a…fabric?"

"It is?"

Kairi can't help but laugh. Oh, the hysterics that ensue when men are dragged into the world of fashion. "Yes."

"Like cotton?"

Kairi rolls her eyes, wishing that she had just kept her comment to herself and spared them all the long explanation. "Sorta. Cotton is a natural fiber; Rayon is synthetic. Like polyester, except more luscious that polyester." She giggles at the look Sora's face assumes at the thought of his voice being described as "luscious." She can tell that Riku is finding the whole thing quite funny, and Kairi can tell he is stocking up teasing comments to be unleashed on his friend at a later time—when Kairi won't be there to defend him. Nothing brought an onslaught of PDA like defending each other from Riku and his friendly mocking.

"So…" Sora begins, scratching his head. "How exactly does my voice sound like a synthetic fabric?"

Kairi sighs, wishing once again that she'd kept her mouth shut. "Not just any synthetic fabric, Sora. Rayon, it's like vintage rayon." A faraway look fixes itself in her eyes. "When I was in the school play last year—while you two were gone; I wish you could have seen it, it was great, I had a lead role and everything, I played this total ditz, it was so much fun—I got to wear this dress that was actually from the 1930's—when the play was set—and anyway, it was made of Rayon, and it was the most fabulous and unique fabric! I think it may have been a Rayon and Acetate blend, actually, but anyway, it was fabulous." She pauses to let the boys catch up. They had one-track minds, and she guesses that she had lost them somewhere along her tangent about the play. "See, the thing that makes it like Sora's voice is that it's a really smooth fabric, and it hangs beautifully when you add flounces and flares to it, by the way, but that part has nothing to do with Sora's voice. Well, the smooth part does." She pauses. "Boys, still with me?"

Sora gives his head a little shake to rid himself of the trance her constant string of speech is putting him in. "Uh, something about flounces, and the fabric is smooth."

Riku just nods, having given up on following Kairi's monologue several long-winded sentences ago.

Kairi sighs and continues. "But see, it's got this texture to it; I can't really describe it. It's just got this fabulous thick texture to it, but it's still smooth. That's what's like Sora's voice—smooth but still with a unique texture to it."

Silence is all that greets her for a moment, then, "Sure, Kairi."

Kairi frowns at the look exchanged between Riku and Sora. Something like amusement mixed with 'This is what we get for having a girl for a best friend.'

"So what does my voice sound like?" Riku has that look on his face--the one that dares her to prove that her former comment wasn't born form her sole attentive focus on her boyfriend, but rather from her thinking about her two best friends.

Kairi is trapped. "Well, I hadn't really thought about it." Riku smirks wider. But he doesn't know that Kairi has an Ace up her sleeve. "It just hit me that his voice sounds like Rayon. But now that I think about it…your voice is gruffer, so it's, well, not quite wool…tweed maybe." Riku's smirk falls from his face. Honestly, Kairi had considered telling Riku his voice sounded like some light, airy, girly fabric like chiffon, just as clandestine punishment for his implicit teasing. Of course, Riku wouldn't have known what chiffon was, anyway, so only she would have known she was teasing him, but it might have been worth it nonetheless.

Riku doesn't know what tweed is. Neither does Sora, but he laughs anyway, because he knows what wool is, at least. (AN2)


Cold green eyes glare at her from underneath a crop of black curls. Blue eyes glare back just as harshly. Kairi waits until they have exited through the double doors before breaking her own code about public cuddling and turning and burying her head in the alcove between Sora's neck and head. He pulls her close, whispering into her ear that it's okay; that one day mean-girl with her expensive perm and green contacts will find something better to do than spread nasty rumors about them, and he reminds her that she is an angel, and no one could possibly believe all those awful things about her anyway.

Kairi wants to believe him, and she will as soon as they reach his house, where he'll make her some hot chocolate, and look at her with big blue eyes that shine with a gleam that reminds her of the blue satin prom dress she can't wait to dance with him in (even though she may never tell him that she bought it because it reminded her of his eyes). He'll hold her close, and she'll bury herself in his shoulder again, and he'll rub her back until the bad day is gone.


Kairi is in stitches on the floor of Sora's bathroom, watching as he attempts in vain to tame his wild locks. The brand-new bottle of hairspray is already half empty, and that tub of gel was full until he began this quest.

Prom is approaching, and Sora is under the delusion that his hair is going to look nice for Kairi that one night, even if it kills him, which it just might. Of course, she insisted that he have a trial-taming a few weeks beforehand, so that he didn't end up failing miserably on Prom day and end up going to Prom stinking of hairspray and looking like his head had been mauled by an angry mutant slug.

It looks like he will be going to Prom with his mane looking as spiky and wild as always. Kairi insists that she likes it better this way anyhow, but Sora is determined at this point to tame his hair if for no other reason than to salvage his stubborn pride.

His spikes aren't quite as spiky anymore, at least. Their angles have changed, and there is hair gel caked in his locks. His bangs have increased in volume to the point that the vision out of his left eye has been completely obscured by hair. In trying to tame the unruly hair in the back of his head, Sora has succeeded in giving himself something of a 60's beehive. The overall effect is quite comical.

The fact of the matter is that Sora has more hair than head, and his locks are simply too stubborn to ever be tamed, and Kairi has figured this out sooner than he has. She picks herself off the floor, still giggling, and starts running water into the bathtub to her left. Sora doesn't notice, as he is still trying to dislodge the comb which has fixed itself, possibly permanently, into the spike above his right ear.

"Sora," Kairi artfully infuses her voice with a tone that she knows will garner her boyfriend's full attention. He turns to look at her, comb still tangled resolutely in his locks. She smiles at him, before grabbing his collar, dragging him over to the tub, and dunking his whole head under water.

He thrashes about, panicking, but Kairi raises him up before he can drown. He takes a huge breath of much needed oxygen. "Kairi, what the--"

"Take a breath." And under his head goes again. She drags him back up a moment later and watches with amusement as he splutters and coughs. He looks at her, his head dripping and his hair sopping.

"What'dya do that for?" He asks angrily, glaring at her from underneath waterlogged bangs.

"I'm fixing your hair," she tells him, still smiling, before getting up and fetching him a towel from underneath the sink counter. She tosses it to Sora, who isn't glaring anymore, but who has yet to forgive his girlfriend for attempting to drown him. He shakes the water from his hair, unapologetically showering Kairi with water droplets.

After some more toweling and shaking, Sora's hair is sticking out in its usual disarray, and Kairi grins at the familiar sight. Sora stands and walks back over to the mirror, examining his failure.

"Guess there's just no helping it…" he says sadly. Kairi is starting to worry. Sora had never cared so much about his hair looking any different. He had always defended his mess, and it concerns her now that he is so melancholy about the failed attempt at styling.

"Sora…" She wraps her arms around his shoulders from behind and rests her chin against the base of his neck, and making eye contact through his reflection in the mirror. "Hey…this isn't like you." She coos, kissing his jaw. "I like you hair. You know that. What's with the sudden need to give yourself a makeover, hm?"

Sora sighs, and drops his eyes. "You don't mind going to Prom with a porcupine?" Kairi furrows her eyebrows.

"Porcupine?! Who said you looked like a porcupine?"

Sora shrugged, lightly, so as not to dislodge her. "Selphie said that I…" he mumbled, but the rest was so muffled that she couldn't make out what he was saying, even at such close range.

"Hm? Speak up." She nudges his jaw with her nose, and he sighs. "Selphie said…that I should try to fix my hair nicely so that you wouldn't have to go to Prom with a porcupine…" He slowly raises his eyes to meet hers in the mirror, and finds that she's smiling.

One slim hand leaves his shoulder and lightly whacks the side of his head. "And you listened?" Kairi turns him around to face her, pulling him closer in the process. "Sora," she began softly, leaning in and rubbing her nose against his. "If I am ever stupid enough to want you to change anything about yourself, I will tell you myself. Selphie is Selphie. You should know better than to listen to anything she says." She pulls back a little to look him in the eye, and is relieved to see that a small smile has made its way back onto his face.

"…So you like my hair?" Kairi smiles coyly at him before plunging her hands into his spiky mess, tangling her fingers in his hair. It was curious; his hair was as slick as silk, but yet it still stood out at odd angles without any concern for gravity or the laws of physics. She draws his head closer to her again until their foreheads touch.

"I love your hair," she murmurs, "just like I love you…" she presses a soft kiss to his mouth, reassuring him in her simple gesture, "just the way you are."


It has been another bad day. "I mean, of all things, going to a teacher! And under the pretense of concern!" Kairi sobs angrily into his shoulder. They are at her house, and she is glad that her parents aren't home yet. Right now she wants no one else, and nothing more than to sit in Sora's lap and cry into his shoulder. "Telling him she's worried about what I'm up to! Yeah right! She knows good and well all of that isn't true! She shares half her classes with me! She knows we aren't sneaking off-campus during class, to do heaven-knows-what! And she knows I'm not some drug-addicted party girl, too!" Sora hushes her; rubs her back, strokes her hair. But he does not discourage her from crying. He knows that what she needs more than anything is to have a good cry. "And what aggravates me most of all is that that, that witch is dragging you into this too! Just because she's mad at me!" (AN3)

Sora gives her a small smile. "Hey, it's okay…I don't mind…" Kairi shakes her head. "It doesn't matter…she still shouldn't be dragging you into this. You haven't done anything. Not like I've done anything to her either…but still…she shouldn't take this out on you…" Kairi hiccups and sniffles, burying her head deeper into his neck.

"Hey there, Iri…" A small smile creeps along her lips at the nickname. She adores it; and she adores that he coined it and that only he would ever use it. The times he calls her Iri are few and far between, just like the times he says "I love you", but he does so to keep them both from sounding overused. She pulls her head out of the ostrich-hole she has made of his shoulder, and looks up at him through the tears still trailing out of her sapphire orbs. He smiles at her. (AN4)

Hands, calloused and worn, reach up and gently cup her chin. His fingertips are scratchy, and his palms are rough, but such was the price of wielding the keyblade. Even though they are rough, she adores his hands. They are always warm, and it is like holding warm wool.

He gently draws her face closer to his own, nudging her nose with his own; she smiles. Her eyes close as she loses herself in the moment, simply enjoying being so close. He leans in all the way, lips like cotton jersey making up for the roughness of his hands. His lips are warm and soft, and they will perpetually make her think of her cotton jersey sheets. She blushes a little as she wonders if she will ever feel the combination of his jersey lips on hers and her jersey sheets against the skin of her back…She mentally reprimands herself for allowing her mind to wonder there at this age.

Sora feels the embarrassed grin creeping along her lips in the kiss, and pulls away, curiosity in his eyes as he looks at her. "What?" he asks innocently; the scarlet roses blossoming in Kairi's cheeks not escaping his attention.

She looks into his satin eyes again, pursing her lips to keep from smiling. "Nothing." She tells him breathlessly, internally giggling at the ruckus one little thought provoked. She moves her lips to his again, and the question lingering in the air is forgotten.

His heart must be made of fleece, Kairi decides. It is as warm, and soft, and cozy as the thickest, softest fleece. She can almost physically feel his love, like a fleece blanket, enveloping her.

When he finally pulls away, Kairi buries her head in his neck again, feeling suddenly drowsy from the excess of coziness. Sora's warm arms are around her, and the soft inhale and exhale of his lungs are silently singing her to sleep.

He isn't perfect, her boy. He is self-conscious and worried about screwing the relationship up all too often. He is a boy, so naturally there are a good deal of things she tells him about that he can't for the life of him keep up with, but he still listens anyway, because he knows that she needs to tell these things to someone, and by volunteering to be her boyfriend, he has placed himself in the position of willingly putting up with such things, and that is all that really matters.

He isn't perfect, but he is hers.

Voice like rayon, hair like silk; lips like jersey, hands like wool; eyes like satin, heart like fleece.

Her fabric patchwork boy.


AN1: My best friend was in band last year, and she dragged me along to the band "picnic" (pizza in the band room). There's a sousaphone in there, and all of a sudden (being her) she blurts out something like "Can you imagine what it would be like if you put a hamster in one of those?" Kinda what inspired me there.

AN2:It hit me one day that Sora's voice sounds like vintage rayon, and that's what started this whole fic. For those who don't know, I costumed my school's fall musical this year, and we had several dresses that actually were vintage 1930's dresses (that's when Crazy For You is set) and so I am very painfully well acquainted with vintage rayon.

AN3:I've actually got a good friend going through this right now. This girl is ticked 'cuz the boy she and my friend both liked picked my friend instead of her; and now she's spreading all these awful rumors about them, and even telling teachers under the pretense of concern that they've been doing all this bad stuff--when in reality you couldn't find two sweeter, well-behaved kids in the world. And my friend is more angry that the girl has been saying all of this stuff about her boyfriend, since he's been through some really, really, really crappy situations in his life--overcoming major drug addictions included and as far as he's come it really isn't fair for her to be doing all of this stuff to such a sweet guy. So that kinda loosely inspired that part of this fic.

AN4: OKAY. LET THE RECORD SHOW THAT I AM THE FIRST PERSON TO MY KNOWLEDGE TO USE THE NICKNAME "IRI". THAT BEING SAID, I ACKNOWLEDGE THAT IT IS POSSIBLE THAT OTHER PEOPLE HAVE ALSO THOUGHT TO USE THE NAME. My concern came from reading it in a fic written by someone who I was fairly certain had read "Glass Half Full", the fic of mine in which I debuted the nickname, hince the reason I thought she might have (accidentally; I like to give people the benefit of the doubt) taken it from me. THAT ALSO BEING SAID, I want to point out that nevertheless, I am concerned about being plagirized on that nickname, since I have been a victim of plagarism before (not on this site, mind you, but elsewhere). If you want to use this nickname, you may, as long as credit is given where credit is due. If you have seen someone else use it before I did (as in, their fic came before GHF, or you read their fic first, and trust they didn't steal it from either me or someone else) then you should credit them. Long story short, Sunny freaked, and managed to step on more toes than she meant to. :( Sorry for all the ruckus. Having been stolen from before, I simply freaked this time.

I think this is one of my best as far as writing romantic scenes go. Anyway, give me some feedback, I adore critique and I like when people point out typos that I've missed during proofreading, because nothing embarresses me like going through my oldest fics and finding monster typos for the first time. :O Review please!