Disclaimer: Digimon does not belong to me.
Notes: Part one of #digiOTPweek's event on Tumblr.
Title: Cavatina: In Bloom (L'iris)
Rating: G
Genre: Friendship
Prompt: "Your friendship is precious to me"
Word Count: 972
Summary: He is reminded, once again, how right his son was when he said the Tachikawas were peculiar. [Hiroaki x Satoe]
[15/08/16]
It shouldn't surprise him, considering who she's related to, but it still shores him momentarily every time she greets him so cheerfully. This time though, her face relaxes and he realises it's relief, not glee, and it reminds him why he's here at this hour of the night and why she's still wearing her coat, even though the coffee shop is warm enough.
"Ishida," she sighs, waving. "Thank you for meeting me here."
He nods, signalling at the waitress for coffee and settles on the bench opposite to her, squashing the last of his cigarette with only a tiny pang of regret.
"Keisuke?"
"Business," she answers with a pout. "Moving back has been a bit of a hassle."
Hiroaki nods, knowing well enough just how much of a hassle work can be, and his tone is more apologetic this time, when he speaks.
"I'm sorry we had to meet like this."
It's true, and he is sorry, because despite the frequency of these little reunions, they're still awkward and he still doesn't know what to do with himself whenever they're around. It can't be any easier though, being on the other end of that table, but Satoe smiles kindly, waving a careless hand.
"You shouldn't be," she explains meekly, muttering her thanks when the waitress brings two mugs of hot, dark roast coffee. "If anything, I'm glad it was you."
Hiroaki scratches his chin absently, swallowing. He always comes home late, works too much, smokes too much, and isn't there enough for his kids, let alone other people's kids. So he's not sure what exactly she means, or if she thinks that maybe, because it's him, he won't think of her as a lousy parent (he doesn't, could never), won't judge her, or them. So he clears his throat, pulling the mug closer.
"I don't know about that..."
"You've been so good to her, to all of them," Satoe says, resting her cheek against her hand. "You don't think they recognise that?"
It bothers him because he's a grown man, divorced, a father of two, and this woman, happily married, with a kid, says something like that and he's blushing like a summer tomato. He's never been great at taking compliments, especially not about his parenting skills, and she seems to believe he should be winning awards for it. He is reminded, once again, how right his son was, when he said the Tachikawas were peculiar.
"You must think we coddle Mimi too much," she giggles, twisting her napkin between manicured fingers. "You wouldn't be wrong, I suppose."
He opens, his mouth, wanting to say no, of course not, but he's never been good at not speaking his mind, either. So he says, "I think it'd be hard not to, with her."
She's beaming quietly and he has to smile, because it's obvious that even in these moments, she is still so proud of her. And he can't say he blames her; the fact that they're both here, now, is something that makes him proud, too.
"My daughter really likes your son," she says after a moment, weighing the words in her mouth as though she isn't sure if she should be saying them. "She hasn't said anything, really, but she's always complaining about him, and Mimi only ever talks about the things that matter to her."
He can't stop himself from laughing this time, and he sets the mug between them as a reminder of where he is, and who he's talking to. His answer is a little more careful, but his tone is kinder than it usually is, perhaps because it's her.
"He smiles more, when she's around," he admits. "But I don't know anyone who doesn't."
"Ahh," she nods, understanding. "She's lucky to have such good friends."
Recognising the signs of fatigue is something he is uncannily good for, and he offers to drive her back to her building (it's only a few blocks, but it's late and he knows how the city can be, to people like her), but she tells him she drove herself in anticipation of that.
"I'm sorry you had to drive all the way down here," he says, scratching the back of his neck. "Are you sure you don't want me to call Yamato and—,"
"No, that's okay, you've already done so much," Satoe sighs. "I'll talk to her in the morning, it's not like her to do things like this—,"
"They think they've only got each other," Hiroaki says after a moment, staring at the last dregs of his cold coffee. "But they've got us, too."
"Yes," her smile is bright, soft, as she stands. "They do."
And because it's her, because she is Mimi's mother and Keisuke's wife, she hugs him tight and her embrace, though brief, is warm, and grateful, and scared all at the same time. He tries to return the pressure and succeeds only before she lets go, and he is struck at how much her daughter resembles her. That, right there, is a sort of strength that's completely different to the one their children have, but it is no less important and he hopes she knows that, too.
"You know, if I had to choose," she says, very carefully. "It'd be someone like him."
He's taking out a cigarette, lighting it to stifle the surge of pleasure he gets from hearing that about his son, no matter how it's not the time or place to say so, at all. So he laughs, taking the first drag deep inside his lungs.
"I bet Keisuke'd be thrilled."
Satoe is already inside the car, and she laughs into her tiny hand as the other grips the steering wheel.
"You'd be surprised," she says. "It's Susumu's boy that makes him nervous. Good night, Hiroaki."
And he waves, nodding gruffly. "Good night, Satoe."