Author's Note: I've watched the anime and read the synopsis for the manga (poor post grad students are not afforded the privilege of actually buying manga, lol). So I do know the basic differences between the two. This probably more anime-based. I just loved this pairing and wanted to write something more than fluff for them...something pushing a harder (pun intended) rating.

Disblaimers: Is it really necessary to state that I don't own CLAMP or Kobato? I would think that would be pretty darned obvious since I just said I'm a stone-broke post-grad student in the above paragraph, but just in case you were under some illusion that I do own these marvelous things...yeah no, I don't.

Rating: Rated an M because while the first chapter is pretty tame, I can't vouch for myself in the future. At present, these are just sketches of romantic fun...little slices of life featuring Kobato and Kiyokazu taking place after the series.

~BD

Slices of Life: Uniform

It was that uniform.

It should make him feel like a perverted old man. He was thirty-six after all, and she was only sixteen. He was an attorney and she was a high school student.

But for starters, there hadn't been a great age difference between them the first time he met her. Back then, he had been twenty and she had been about sixteen. If she hadn't been reborn, they would still be close in age.

More importantly, he didn't feel thirty-six. He felt like a horny teenager. He felt hot and bothered and hard.

Especially when she wore that bloody uniform.

She wasn't as innocent as she had been the first time they'd met, either – which complicated matters slightly. Her rebirth meant she had the opportunity to grow up in this time instead of just being dropped into it by some higher power to fulfill a contract to save her practically non-existent life. She now had friends, she went to high school, she read shojo manga, and she watched movies. She liked ice cream, walking in the park, and she wore strawberry hair clips that shimmered in the sunlight.

She was still Kobato, of course. She still had her kind, sweet, loving nature – the same personality he remembered. But she just couldn't be quite as innocent as before.

For one thing, it was as if she knew that wretched uniform turned him on. Like she knew that short skirt got his blood going. God help him, when she stopped by the office to visit him (under the pretense of discussing the conditions of her grandfather's will), it was all he could do not to let his boss catch on to anything. Like the fact that he was desperately in love in his underaged client.

Or when he met her at a café after school to pretend to discuss some legal issue that he was working on in order to free the house into her name when she became of age. She would walk up with her satchel over her shoulder, that short pleated skirt catching the breeze, showing impossibly long legs for such a short girl. His eyes couldn't seem to focus on anything but creamy, pale thighs and he would began to imagine his hands ghosting over the soft flesh, pulling her hips flush to his, his fingers flirting with the hem of her knickers just at her buttocks, hearing her breath catch in her chest as he leaned down to kiss her...

He couldn't act just yet, though. He didn't give a damn about his job; what with all the paperwork, being an attorney was far more boring than he had anticipated at the age of twenty. He had saved most of his money over the past sixteen years, having nothing important to spend it on except a few expensive suits, so he was well vested and could retire if he felt like it. But he did he care about her reputation, because he cared about her. And he didn't want to scare her unnecessarily.

So he gritted his teeth and took cold showers, and cursed the school for having such short skirts in the first place.