storypaint | Over Tea (Eriol/Tomoyo)

Author: rhap_chan
Written for: tomoyohime8
Title: Over Tea
Prompt: cardcaptorgifts: Eriol/Tomoyo, "the end is only the beginning of something new"; "tea for two"
Rating: G
Excerpt: She had never been the sort of person to fall for someone like him. That was Rika's place; that was Sakura's place. She was a woman who made lists and took vacations to England alone. She was sensible.

"Shall I?" he asked at the same time that she opened her mouth to suggest it. He rose swiftly from his seat and went into the kitchen, pulling up crisp white sleeves to his elbows. Tomoyo felt odd being seated, but then again, this was his kitchen, and she knew it; dark, heavy wooden cabinets carved into gingerbread shapes and carefully scrubbed counters. It was very British, somehow. Eriol carried an air of Britain with him no matter where he went. She had seen it on him when he was in Japan: mannerisms polite but just a touch foreign, words unaccented but odd choices just the same, and a certain air of sea salt that came from foreign shores.

At first she had been curious, since his treatment of Sakura was absurd at best, over-the-top flirting coupled with a familial smile. Then she was angry, when she found out what he'd been up to, though only for a little while. She had never managed to fall in love with him though: had never been the type to swoon over a teacher or someone's older brother, and Eriol was much older than he looked (if Fujitaka's half-reincarnate, at least 40).

He brought the tea, still gently steaming, and she thought about America and the transfer student who had arrived after he had left. The girl could not fit in as well as he had; awkward in her slang, taking her tea cold. Cold tea was somehow more lonely.

"It is lovely to see you, Daidouji-san," he said and she looked at him for a long moment, and said, "Please, call me Tomoyo-san," without quite knowing why.

It was clear from Eriol's reaction that he hadn't expected her familiarity either; he gave her a look of surprise. She averted her eyes and gazed down into her cup.

"Of course, Tomoyo-san," he replied, "and you must call me Eriol-san."

She had heard it from Sakura's lips many times, dropped like a stone into a basket, but it was still hard to say the word. So she said nothing, and nodded, uncertain how her voice would betray her now.

She had never been the sort of person to fall for someone like him. That was Rika's place; that was Sakura's place. She was a woman who made lists and took vacations to England alone. She was sensible. She was going to see the Tower of London later, and take pictures, and email them home to Sakura.

"What brings you to England at this wonderfully damp time of the year?" Eriol asked, to break the sudden odd silence, and he smiled at her. It was a vapid, vacant, polite smile. Of course. In the end, they hardly knew each other. A year of school when they were eleven, fifteen years ago. It was like they were strangers.

Though Tomoyo had written, as she'd promised, and he'd written back. She knew that she was guilty of filling her letters with news of the weather and too many commentaries on Sakura's life. Depending on how closely he read, he might have discovered her dearest secret.

She sipped her tea and looked into his dark blue eyes, and thought that it was likely that he would never tell anyone who she was in love with. It was a courtesy she hated to need from him, but one freely given, and at the same time she was thankful.

"It was my time for vacation at work," Tomoyo said after a minute. "And I have always wanted to visit."

"Well, then it is good you came to me," he said, rising suddenly and placing his cup of tea in the sink, mostly undrank. He was all of the sudden a flurry of movement, of mischief, and as he turned to smile at her over his shoulder it was a true smile, and her breath caught. She could see the eleven-year-old still lurking in his heart.

"This is the best place in the world," he said easily, spreading his arms to encompass the world beyond his kitchen, "and you will have the best guide to it." His voice dropped and he continued, "Clow loved being here... though of course he could not stay long. I try to enjoy it for him."

His laugh was low, but amused, and she laughed with him, unable to resist his cheer. Gallantly he offered his hand to her. The tea forgotten, she rose with him, and together they went out into the city.

She had never been the type to swoon over a teacher, but he taught Asian Literature at the local university and they spent half an hour discussing that in a little cafe near his house. She had never been the type to be attracted to older brothers, but he told stories about Nakuru with Touya's little-sister tone in his voice, and she couldn't help but laugh at the joy and amusement in his voice. She was the sensible one, except for today, when they jumped in an "authentic" British puddle and spent a ridiculous amount of money on tickets to a play in a little theater that tourists never went to, and she loved it all.

And in the end, she loved him too, but that is a tale for another day, and I'm sure they will be willing to tell us, whenever they return from holiday in Japan.