IRC-enabled. Sakura/Wolfram het, FTW.
They said it couldn't be done.
It shouldn’t have happened. It shouldn’t have even been considered. The instant it came into their minds - and did it come into both of their minds, or just his? Or hers? … What if they’d both thought it? - they should have made excuses and excused themselves and retreated in the way fully befitting any soldier. Retreat didn’t always result in honor lost. Retreat was sometimes a very, very good option. Retreat was sometimes… okay, retreat would have been the best ending to the whole business, because then they could pretend that they’d hallucinated the whole thing right from the start, and that would have been… very nice.
“I-I don’t like girls,” Wolfram stammers, and he stares at Sakura with the sort of openmouthed shock often reserved for children when they realize that in order for them to be alive, their parents at one point had to have had sex.
“Neither do I,” Sakura responds tersely, and then she blushes too. “Um, I didn’t mean. Um. I think it’s best if we. Um.” She bites her lip and refuses to look at him.
Neither of them says anything. They can very well leave things as they stand and go back to their respective cabins (well, house, in Sakura’s case) and forget the whole night happened, and that would be great. Really great, in fact. It is entirely reasonable to forget the walk along the lake, the stars, the conversation, and the mutual complaining about significant others (or lack thereof). It is even advisable to ignore the part where Sakura yawns sleepily and leans her head against Wolfram’s shoulder, and Wolfram slips his arm around her waist and laughs something about how he’d kill Yuuri if he saw his fiancé in a position such as this one with a girl - with anyone.
Neither of them is going to mention the part where Sakura looks up at Wolfram and laughs brightly, and says that if they’re cheating then they’ve got bigger problems than what Yuuri would think. It happens quickly, and it’s not so much a matter of who moved first or where but is more a problem about why they didn’t move away as soon as possible.
The result is Wolfram staring stupidly at the girl in front of him, and Sakura gaping at the ground beside her. When Wolfram realizes he still has his arm around Sakura’s waist he lets go as if burned and jumps up onto his feet, stumbling and barely keeping himself upright.
“I. You. I,” he stutters, and it’s probably as intelligible as his speech is going to get anytime soon. Words like soft and strong are floating through his head and he thinks he’s going to go and find his sword and cut them out. It has to be something caused by camp; he decided when he was thirty that he was going to grow up and marry a shining knight on a daring white stallion, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to let some stupid, hellish summer camp mess with him like this.
“Mistletoe,” Sakura does not so much suggest as decree, and she’s on her feet and steadier than Wolfram will be for a good long while.
“There isn’t any -,” Wolfram chokes out, then realizes and stops and nods fiercely. “Yes. Mistletoe. Yes.”
Sakura laughs uneasily. “It’s kind of weird, isn’t it? Most of the time the problems are with all the boys turning gay… not going straight.” The instant she’s said it she knows it’s the wrong thing to say, but there you go.
Wolfram makes this strange, strangled little noise in the back of his throat and Sakura thinks he might pass out. “Aha. Yeah. Weird,” he agrees, and then he holds up a hand, finger extended as though he’s about to make a point. “Mistletoe.”
“Mistletoe,” Sakura agrees.
They will never admit that there are no trees - no anything, really - by the lake.