Hey! Please consider this an AU fic (Marin is a hard-working, 20-something-year-old woman), probably with some serious OOC-ness because I haven't seen the show in a long time. I just wanted to put ye olde Marin & Melan in an uncomfortable situation and see how it turns out. Hope you enjoy the drama, the noodles, and the eventual stripping of skin-tight body armor! I own nothing but Nana's Noodles.
Rated M for lemon(s). Fantastic ones, I'm sure. I mean how sexy are those appendage things of Melan's? Pretty damn sexy.
Cleaning the counters of Nana's Noodle Shop at the end of the day always helped Marin think. Today she really wasn't interested in going home, anyway. Seeing everyone just reminded her of her birthday next week, and him.
Marin would never admit it to Melan, but she was frustrated. They'd made it this many years together on the occasional x and o, but now that she was approaching her twenty-third birthday, the sexual tension that surrounded her could be cut with a knife. And she had no idea what she was going to do about it.
They'd had this talk when she turned sixteen—yes, they loved each other, but no, it was quite obvious they couldn't have that kind of a relationship, what with his being what he was, and her being human. And who needed it, anyway? Plenty of relationships survived on emotional connection alone.
At the time she was too nervous to argue, and she still worried if Melan simply couldn't see her that way, if he just weren't wired for it.
The clock told her it was five minutes until closing time. She ignored it, didn't make her usual dash to the door to flip the sign. Instead she continued wiping the counter, not sure how much time had passed before the door was flung open, setting off the chimes above it. Her head jerked up. There was a stubbled, ruggedly attractive man in jeans coming to sit at one of the counter stools. He looked confused.
"I didn't realize you were still open," he said, glancing at the clock. She followed his gaze. Ten-thirty. How had she let half an hour go by?
She stared at the man. He looked strung out, hungry and tired, and not really convinced she was going to serve him anything, what with the other chairs in the room sitting upside-down on the tables, and the mop ready to go in the corner with a soapy bucket. Plus there was the rag in her hand.
She shrugged; it was her fault anyway. "We're not," she said. "Not usually, but tonight must be your lucky night. I forgot to close up. What'll it be?"
His smile was huge. It creased his cheeks—she noticed she was paying way too much attention to his face. And to his shoulders, which were, well, broad. Manly. Shaped as a man's might be. Up close, she realized she was looking at a fine example of a male; her brain was labeling him all too clearly to her. Man. Male. Guy.
She hoped she wasn't blushing, and, even more, that he couldn't see the neon "desperate" sign on her forehead that she'd been projecting lately. She turned away abruptly, walking around the bar to flip the sign on the door while she waited for him to answer.
"This is amazing," he said while she walked. "I just had one of the worst days of my life, and I thought to top it all off I'd go home hungry, but then I saw the lights on in this place!" He was practically glowing. She noticed, from behind, that he had a slim waist, big feet hanging from long legs….
She couldn't find her voice to answer him properly, so she just delivered a curt, Mhm.
"So, um…I guess I'll have the special, since I don't know what's on the menu," he said, and she realized she hadn't given him one. Most people who came to Nana's already knew what they wanted anyway, but she should have known better.
"Would you like one?" she asked. "I can—"
"No, that's OK. I'm not picky. Well, not about food anyway."
He smiled at her, and this smile was very particular. It took her all of half a second to figure that one out. What took her longer was deciding how she should respond, and that upset her. She was used to being flirted with at the counter; it was a daily occurrence. What she wasn't used to was hesitating before blowing someone off. This time she stared blankly at him for way too long, maybe even cocked a smile. Was she flirting back?
"One special coming up," she said quickly, disappearing into the kitchen. When she got there, she slumped against the wall and took a massive breath. She'd been alone in the store plenty of times with attractive men. Why, God, why did she have to be so flighty this particular night? Why did she have to have an alien boyfriend who wouldn't do anything with her?
She whipped up the noodles in record time and slammed a bowl down in front of the stranger, then turned her back and proceeded to clean the floors. He picked up his chopsticks, wary of her apparent mood swings, but soon enough he was eating peacefully. She felt a wave of relief come over her; she might actually make it through the next ten or so minutes without jumping a stranger. As she mopped, she promised herself she would purchase a very fancy vibrator the very next day and name it Melan—she saw no other options.
"Hey," she heard the man say, and she stopped mopping.
"What? Are the noodles all right?"
"Actually." He was smiling again, turning in his chair to look at her. "These are delicious. I honestly didn't think I'd get so lucky tonight. Do you think I could get a beer?"
She checked the clock again. It was getting close to eleven. Melan and the rest of her family would be wondering what she was doing out this late.
"I understand if you'd rather I ate quickly and left," the man added, sensing her discomfort.
"No," she heard herself say. "Stay. I'm not in the mood to go home just yet anyway."
"Hard day?" he asked.
She popped open two lagers and nodded. "Something like that. Here."
He guzzled it. So did she. Then they stared at each other. He laughed first. Then he stuck out a hand.
"Jund," he said, and looked at her expectantly.
A part of her screamed in protest, said that shaking his hand was an invitation for something else entirely. Actually, this part of her had been screaming for the past half hour, since Jund arrived; she was only just now hearing it.
Holding tightly to her beer, she smiled and nodded at him, then turned around and pretended to be tidying something behind the counter. "Nice to meet you, Jund."
He hesitated a moment before asking the question she'd been expecting, his voice conveying all of his disappointment that she hadn't shaken his hand. "May I ask your name?"
"It's…." She turned around, looked him up and down. He seemed trustworthy enough, dressed in a faded winter coat and jeans. His eyes were calm, a cappuccino brown. What was the harm of a name? "Marin."
"Pretty," he said, and smiled. She smiled back, then realized with horror that she was blushing. Looking away in shame did nothing to help hide it, either. She caught his smile widening as she turned to escape.
"Thanks for letting me in, Marin. I lost a ton of important blueprints today at work, and I had to spend hours recovering them. By the time I got out of the office, everyone was closed…except this place." He pulled out his wallet and dropped a fifty on the counter. "Consider this my way of saying thanks."
She eyed the bill. She never liked big spenders; they always expected too much gratitude, but Jund seemed perfectly content with what he'd received already. Or so her blurry mind was telling her. "That isn't necessary," she said.
"I know, but neither was sharing a beer with me. Care for another?"
She held up her hands. "No, no. Not tonight."
"Not tonight?"
"I mean no. Just no. Thank you."
His smile continued all the way out the door. "Good night. Marin."
She watched this stranger disappear down the lighted street, the door jingling long after he'd left. She didn't know how long she stood like that, wondering what had just occurred, and why something inside of her felt deeply satisfied and excited, and guilty. What did I just do? she asked herself blankly.
When she returned home that night, all she could think about was Jund. Melan picked up on her distractedness right away, but his mind would have no way of grasping the reason for it. That only made her more depressed. Some jealousy, some suspicion, even a little eyebrow raise when she got home at midnight would have been better than the completely trusting smile she got instead. A little worried, maybe, that things at the shop had been especially busy, or that the streets were dangerous, but nothing close to the truth. It made her feel like less than a woman, which she knew was silly, but then, so was dating an alien. She was a silly woman.
"I think it would be wise if you took me with you to work, Marin," Melan said as she helped herself to some instant noodles in a foam cup. Working at a specialty noodle shop only made her want the fake stuff more than ever.
"We talked about this," she said. "I'd prefer if you stayed at home, in case anything happened."
"But I'm linked to you, Marin. I can't help but…"
"But what?"
"Worry."
This made her blush so much she finished all of her noodles in a single slurp to hide her face, burning her tongue thoroughly in the process.
"Marin!" she heard Melan say as she buried herself in noodles. "Be careful!"
When she came back for air, her cheeks were bright red. "I don't need you to protect me, Melan," she said without thinking, "I need you to lo—"
As she watched his face flatten to utter stillness, waiting for her to finish a sentence that terrified him, she realized what she was about to say and locked up.
"Um, I mean, I need you to trust me, Melan."
His face relaxed a little. Really, his expressions were getting good. Apparently he wasn't sure how to answer her, so he simply looked at the discarded foam cup she'd slammed on the tatami of the tiny bedroom.
She wanted to tell him not to sulk, but she knew that wasn't what he was doing. He just didn't know what to say. Sometimes it took real effort not to treat him like a human.
But maybe that was the problem.
Looking him over carefully, she got an idea. If he could feel like a human and talk like a human, then maybe it was right for her to treat him more like one. She reached carefully for his gun arm, picked it up, and laid it down in her lap. Melan seemed startled but otherwise didn't move. Apparently he did trust her.
"Marin, what are you doing?"
"I don't know," she said honestly. She didn't know what she was doing anymore. "I just wanted to touch you."
Was it her imagination, or did he blush? No, that wasn't possible. It was just something in the way he averted his eyes that made her see it. Still, he was responding to her touch, and that meant there was hope. Her eyes drifted to his shoulders, wide, armored, then lower to the tenderer surface of his stomach, and then lower….
What was under that protective layer? She'd wondered many, many times in the past few years, but she'd never managed to see it, or to ask. Now, though, something had changed. She was reaching a breaking point. All at once, as she stared lecherously at her clueless boyfriend, Jund came to mind. She looked down at the gun in her lap and imagined his tan arm, all five of his lightly furred fingers. The warmth from him that Melan would never have.
She let go immediately, leaving Melan looking at her with what seemed to be disappointment, but she was probably making that up, too.
"Marin, is everything O—"
"Everything's fine. I'm going to bed," she said with a huge sigh. Then, remembering herself, she turned to smile at him, but something stopped her from pressing the usual tender kiss to his cheek that they exchanged every night. She knew he was waiting for it, but the image of Jund kept interrupting her, making her pause. "I'm not feeling well," she added.
He nodded. "Do you need anything?"
"Only some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."
His silence was full of concern.
"Don't worry, Melan," she added emphatically.
"Marin."
"Yes?"
He hesitated. "Good night."
For over an hour that night she wriggled in her futon, thinking of Jund and his fully functioning hands. Of what it would be like to have a real human boyfriend to share the bed with. She snuck a glance Melan's way, watching his chest in its perfect stillness. No rise and fall of breath. No dreams. He wasn't even really sleeping in the way she understood it.
She shook her head—she loved Melan. Of course she did. Of course she did.
Sleep didn't find her until five in the morning. Since she had to run errands before work the next day, this left her a conflicted, exhausted heap when she loped into Nana's Noodles that afternoon. Not a good combination for running into a certain stranger for the second time.
Bad decisions ahead, followed by great ones. :)
xoxo
mangotea