I have a random pile of cliches that I thought I should tackle at some point just to prove I can't be original. Then I decided that I should prove I don't only write SasuHina. Of course... this was the next easiest thing to write. These personalities were kind of um... stolen from DiR. I suck. But at least it's not completely ordinary.
I need someone who's true
Someone who does the laundry too
So what you gonna do
Please don't forget to follow-through
I take my diamond shoes
Someone who tries to be on time
Do what you said you'll do
I hope you like to follow through
Animato, Utada
The Coffee Shop Story
She's only working here as a favor to Hinata, because half the waitresses have the flu or meningitis or a sprained ankle or something. Probably they all cut out of town with their boyfriends because it's freaking spring break. Bitches.
Hanabi, as a high school senior, does not get spring break. And Hinata, being a year out of college and taking some control of her life by going for a management position, doesn't get spring break either.
Hinata can make all the fancy coffee things, but she's also behind the cash register because of that lack of personnel thing, which is a shame, because Hanabi's the one going for a math/comp sci degree this fall.
So it's Hanabi who's closest. It's Hanabi who took chemistry and had to watch the safety videos. It's Hanabi who sticks her hand, with the cleaning towel, into the pitcher of ice water that will need to be replaced. It's Hanabi who helps the guy who spilled his coffee. Which means it's Hanabi who has her hands in some guy's lap, presumably preventing serious injury.
It's too bad one hand is going numb.
"You alright? sir," she remembers to add. First scalding coffee, then freezing cotton of dubious background and awkward waitress. Great counter example to 'there are no stupid questions'.
"I'll survive," he says dryly.
Hanabi realizes he's capable of holding the towel himself, and she nearly shatters her knuckles on the table whipping her hand away.
"Bathroom's over there. Did you uh… need anything else?" She can't look up at him, because this is highly embarrassing for a teenaged girl whose only real experience with boys is making them bleed. She blames Hinata for leaving the nest so early. Now her father is entirely too protective of her and would probably doubt the good intentions of Buddha himself if he ever got it into his head to ask her for a date.
"How about my savior's phone number?"
Her head snaps up, and good god he's hot. Tall, almost gaunt, vampire kind of sexy, with eyes that don't need hands to caress her. The low tail of hair and the leanness of him is tres sexie. But that ain't going to help him.
"You don't even know my name," she snaps.
His eyes drop to her chest and she doesn't slap him because she remembers there's a name stitched to the apron, and he's just had a slight medical emergency so she will give him the benefit of the doubt.
"That's not my name," she informs him. And she deliberately lets her gaze fall to the stain in his pants. "You might want to take care of that."
"So I don't have your name or your number?"
He's got a voice like that high end creamer they never have enough of. She could listen to him all day. Except then she wouldn't get paid. In cash. The problem with daddy giving her a couple of gold credit cards is that he knows where she's spending his money. Which means buying large quantities of salt water taffy never goes smoothly.
"I'm jail bait," she tells him with a great deal of cheerfulness as she gently shoves him into the restroom hallway. "And you're old."
Not that being centuries old has ever stopped teenaged girls in stories from blood loss by bishounen. But she is jail bait, and he's wearing a suit in the middle of the day. It screams 'steady, well paying job'. Well, it would if it hadn't had that cup of coffee. He shouldn't be hitting on her. She doesn't know why he is. Maybe he's a sex offender. It wouldn't surprise her. He looks like the kind of guy a lot of girls would lie about their age for. But life, and coffee, stops for no one. Crisis covered, she has to earn three people's pay.
-
She can feel someone staring at her ass. Granted, it's probably the only thing visible of her, since she's on her hands and knees trying to get the last of that stupid creamer from the very back of the fridge. It can fit ten gallons of assorted milk products, and maybe the cows that made them. Why does no one want soy? The soy is right at the front on the shelf above this one. Much more convenient.
Although the dairy playing hard-to-get is a great excuse for her playing not-getting-at-all.
Whoever is staring is gone. Her shoulders relax and suddenly she can reach the bottle. She pulls herself out triumphantly and nearly walks into the wall to prevent the guy from getting another cup of coffee all over himself.
Despite the staining, he is still a fine specimen of hawt.
"Going back to your boardroom dressed like that?" she asks before he says something she will be compelled to answer truthfully.
"Was actually going to go home and change and skip lunch," he replies easily.
"Something you look used to doing. You could buy a sandwich from us." She flutters her eyes at him.
"Find a need and fill it. We could use some one like you in R&D." He looks entirely too serious about that offer, so she escapes with her creamer and hopes he has enough pride to not run after a little girl.
Hinata looks a little swamped because everyone decided to come in all at once, so Hanabi, being the generous and caring soul that she is, hops on down and asks to take the next customer over here.
Her sister looks askance at her when the last customer stays in her line even though Hinata's register is free. The little furrow in her brow disappears when he tells her smoothly that he just thought since there was only the two of them, it would make more sense if one did coffee. Hanabi doesn't notice that Hinata smiles at him, like she knows him, although she doesn't quite trust his reasons.
He pays for his croissant with his card, even though there is quite clearly a sign that says it's fifty whole cents extra for charges under five bucks.
He leaves both customer and merchant copies with her. The customer receipt has a phone number on the dotted line above Uchiha Itachi.
She'd kind of forgotten. She was turning eighteen. Which meant that coming out ball she hadn't done anything for but be born on March 27 eighteen years ago to one of the wealthiest families in the country. Her family wondered what was wrong with her. The party was practically on top of them and she hadn't picked out a dress. Didn't all girls like clothes, especially clothes designed for them?
The only thing she'd seen so far and claimed on sight were a darling pair of heels with sparklies fireworking all over it. Of course, since she was a Hyuuga, the sparklies were counted by the carat. She had had to leave the shoes with the designers so they could make a dress to match.
She couldn't really focus on the parade of dresses, not just because they were all freaking white and wasn't that a color for mourning in some cultures? The receipt was practically burning a hole in her purse, and not just because she had an idea the guy was a pervert. Uchiha wasn't exactly an uncommon name, but they were definitely an uncommon family as a whole. Name plus suit didn't equal important, but it would argue against pedo if he were.
She hadn't looked at it for a week. It got put into the purses she was using for the same reason the lighter went with her; on the off chance it could save her life even though she denied having it to anyone who looked at her.
"These dresses are all too white. I want a cheongsam." She stood up and left, leaving a dozen designers and their assistants in a frenzy to draw up the dress.
-
Of course her escort is Uchiha Sasuke. He's not as old as the other guy, and he is admittedly cute. And important. She doesn't really care about the whole shebang; she just let her family have their delusion that she appreciated it. She isn't even paying attention, and her father has to give her a little tug before she starts her walk around the stage. She can see her sister giving her a sympathizing look from the edge of the hall.
She mingles after the little dog-and-pony show, trying not to seem too eager for anything. She's quite proud of herself for not jumping when a warm hand settles on her shoulder and the other pulls her close so he can kiss her cheek.
"You'd be surprised how many people believe I have less than honorable intentions."
She accepts a flute of sparkling cider from a passing waiter, pretending her face isn't the color of the horribly tacky rose arrangements. "How many?"
"None. Well… one I suppose."
"I'm sure she had good reason," she sneers. Politely.
"Most people don't need good reason," he tells her solemnly. "Most people need a kick to the—"
"Uchiha, have you met my other daughter, Hinata?" Hyuuga Hiashi is not a stupid man. Nor is he about to trust any man, much less Uchiha Itachi, with the family's baby.
"I have actually. She makes a delightful cup of coffee." He bows with all the courtly perfection anyone could have wanted in an escort. "I'm afraid I have to catch a flight to Tokyo. But I thought I ought to make my intentions known."
"What intentions?" Hiashi snarls.
"Less than honorable ones." He gives her a toe-curling smile and takes his leave. She catches up to him before he reaches the exit and is suddenly shy.
She presses a ripped corner of paper and phone number into his hands.
"Even though you're old."
He kisses her on the lips this time, hot and burning like nothing in the world should.
"Even though you're jail bait." He stops. And smiles, predatory. "Except that you're not any more." His fingers tangle in her professionally mussed curls and he kisses her again, with intensity and passion and tongue and finally the night doesn't suck.