Disclaimer: I don't know Cardcaptors Sakura... nor any of the characters.

Just a short CCS one shot. S+S... though I suppose you can imagine it to be other pairings... it's flexible like that.

Intertwined Cotton

Sometimes, when I'm alone... I curl up near the window wearing nothing but one of his T-shirts and press my forehead against the glass to see the street below easier. When there is snow on the ground I wear woolly socks and fuzzy slippers that remind me of when I was young, a mug of warm cocoa in my hands to ward off the chill I feel through the glass. When it's summer- or spring- it's just the T-shirt which smells like him. After-shave and something deliciously spicy like the food he doesn't like.

I like to bury myself in his arms, sprawled out on the bed on hot nights, our limbs hopelessly tangled, clothes and sheets sticking to us uncomfortably, but it's all right because I'm fine lying next to him in nothing but my skin. I bury my face in his neck while he blows cool air over my shoulders and I can't help but smile at him when he tells me to just imagine snow and ice-cream- preferably chocolate with him- even though he hates the cold.

He's used to the hot weather. I just like watching the cherry blossoms bloom.

Before he goes for work I pretend to sleep, balling up on his side of the bed with my head filled with his scent from his pillow and my thoughts reeling from the night before. As I keep my face blank- which is very hard sometimes- he purrs a good-bye in my ear, and I can hear the adoring smile in his voice when he does so. His lips are gentle and sure as he places a kiss on my shoulder- or cheek- or neck- and gathers his briefcase and jacket from where it was discarded the day before.

Every time I hear the door latch shut I break a little. But it's all right because I know he'll be back in a while.

It turns out I'm not the only one who needs him.

If he ever heard such thoughts he'd laugh (I love his laugh). He's known me so long, and says I'm the strongest person he's ever known. But what he doesn't think about is that through about everything I've done, he's been there. For so long. I fear waking up one day to find he's not here. Not really.

I have friends of course. Many friends. Best friends. Guardians. A brother. 53 cards that protect me and make her feel whole.

Some people say it's nothing short of a miracle we've been together so long. Skeptics who don't believe in fate or destiny. All who know us wouldn't think that. It's not a miracle, it's just the only way it has to be. The only way that somehow seems... right. We take care of each other, and not simply in the- helps when your sick- or- someone to grow old with- way. It's something different. We don't need each other. I would be lying if I said I didn't prefer it that way, but it's true. He could live his life quite easily on his own, as could I.

He could have made a choice not to come back.

We could, if worse came to worse, live out our lives alone, or with someone else, and not fall into utter madness like our lives are so interlaced one small paper cut would cause us to crumble. We're too strong for that.

But that what makes it more special.

I do need him. Not for life support, but because it makes me happy to see him laugh, or just smile when I say something he dubs as 'cute'- he's been listening to Tomoyo too much- or when he brings me home chocolate and proceeds to eat most of it himself. I suppose it's the same with him. He probably loves it when he offers me a bite of his chocolate bar and I tell him that he can have it.

It's all about sacrifices... though that's a terrible example I admit.

He's home. I watched as his car pulled into the parking garage, and I can picture him getting out of the vehicle, looking tired and harassed. His hair as mussed as ever.

I can picture him on the stairs, and I can hear his keys in the lock.

The soft sound of him slipping out his shoes and setting his briefcase down in the hallway against the hardwood, followed by a soft utter of my name stirs me, and I turn my head from the glass to smile at him.

He smiles from the doorway, a tired smile, and sets his keys on the top of the dresser before moving across the carpet towards me, his eyes drifting over my 'attempt at dressing myself' though he doesn't know I wouldn't want to be in anything else. My security blanket.

I whisper his name in turn... and I unfold myself from my view point- my special place- to meet him halfway.