I had the pleasure to collab with my dear friend Mari for this week. Mari, thank you for your endless patience and for the amazing art that inspired each of these drabbles, and all the dumb stuff we did on google docs trying to figure out where the story was going

You can find the picture for these drabbles on mahreemari's tumblr!

iv. east meets west

It's his first time in Japan. Stu knew there would be differences between cultures, he just hadn't thought they would be this great and shocking, but it feels good to catch a break from England and his routine there, even if he's here for work and not a leisure trip. He isn't alone, could never be since he doesn't speak an ounce of Japanese, and wanders the streets behind his associate, Murdoc, as the man guides him to a "place he's going to love." Usually, in Murdoc's dialect, it meant dances and bare skin, but despite his better judgement, Stu follows in hopes he'll be mistaken.

He is, at least at first sight, it seems so. He's brought to a house surrounded by lush garden. They take off their shoes, slip on slippers and follow a woman wearing a pale pink kimono to one of the empty low tables. The air smells of green tea and sweets, and Murdoc shares words he can't understand with the woman as Stu takes the time to look at thin doors, paper lanterns and everything that decorates the room.

Murdoc doesn't waste time with pleasantries and sets some documents on the space between them, urging Stu to pick them and flip through. They have a meeting early the next day and they have to prepare. He won't be of much help without speaking Japanese, but it's important that he pays attention to what the translator will say.

Stu relocates the sheets to his lap and squints his eyes at them as Murdoc talks to the waitress again. Porcelain is set with a clink on the table and he looks up in time to nod at her as she bows and walks away, her shoes clicking softly on the floor. He shifts on his seat, a navy blue pillow that matches some decorative vases, and takes his handle-less cup in hand, blowing the herbal liquid before taking a sip. Murdoc helps himself to some crunchy sweets arranged prettily on a plate, but Stu chooses to look at other patrons in-between sips.

He stops, cup brushing his lips as a woman dressed in a deep red kimono stops a few tables away and pours more tea into waiting cups. Dark hair pinned back, she smiles at them and dips forward in a neat bow before turning to make her way to the kitchen. She stops, however, when Murdoc looks up and catches her passing by, calling her by name.

"Murdoc-san," her smile is more beautiful up close, dimples showing on her cheeks. "It has been quite some time."

Her English is heavily accented, but it sounds good in her voice. "Back on another trip. This is my associate, Stuart Pot."

Stu feels a flush creeping down his neck when her eyes settle on him. "A pleasure to meet you, Stuart-san."

"Ple… Pleasure…"

Murdoc snickers, shares a few more words with her before she takes her leave. He chooses not to tease Stu over it and merely encourages him to reread the documents one more time. Stu chooses to comply, fighting the urge to lift his gaze when red enters his line of sight.

:

It was a stressing meeting. Between having to wait for translation and the tense atmosphere in the room, Stu would have fled it earlier if he had the chance. He hadn't and sat through it quietly, taking notes and setting his pen aside when he caught himself drawing geometric patterns on the corner of the pages. Murdoc shouted at Stu with all his pent up stress shortly after the meeting was over, murderous glare keeping him rooted on the spot, cigarette stuck between his lips, stalking away and leaving curses in his wake. With a lot of free time and nowhere specific to be, and lunch hour approaching fast, Stu walked down familiar streets towards the tea house from the previous day, hoping the tea and sweets could ease his worries and stomach until Murdoc cooled down, showed up and offered to translate menus in restaurants.

The woman from the previous day is sweeping the porch, now dressed in a floral kimono. She stops her task, gripping the broom with both hands gently. "Stuart-san, was it?"

"Yeah," he croaks, rubs at the back of his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name yesterday."

"You can call me Noodle," she smiles, apologetic. "I apologize. We are closed today."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I was wondering if I could…" He looks at the garden. "Sit around for a bit. It was a stressful morning."

Noodle perks up and nods. "Of course. We have seats on the back porch. Please, follow me."

The inside is much quieter today. Other workers clean up the space, smiling at him as they pass, and Noodle opens the door to the porch, bamboo wind chimes swaying in the wind that ripples the water of a koi pond, littered with colorful petals from nearby flower bushes. She waits until he's sitting and returns to her job, and he's content sitting there, watching the fish swim in circles, wind in his hair.

Stu doesn't know how much time passes and opens his eyes with a start when a hand touches him on the shoulder, light. He must have fallen asleep, grins sheepishly at Noodle and she tilts her head minimally, offering him a cup of steaming tea held by delicate fingers.

"Murdoc-san called," she says quietly. "He could not find you at the hotel."

He sips the tea, unsweetened. "What did he say?"

"He wanted to know where you were and asked me to keep an eye on you until he comes." Noodle places a plate of food in his sight. "Are you hungry? I made these for you."

Rice balls. They have a specific name, but Stu can't remember it for the life of him. "I didn't bring any money." No point in carrying cash around when he'd need Murdoc to translate things for him in the first place.

"It's on the house," her smile brightens and he picks the food to chew at it slowly.

Noodle sits by his side, both their legs dangling from the pouch. It's a warm day today, and the heat makes him sleepy after he's done with his food. Stu sighs through his nose, fighting down heavy eyelids, doesn't jump when a head rests on his shoulder, though his heart does a startled jerk in his chest. She smells of flowers and tea, a good combination that fits Noodle rather well.

"Where are you from?" Her voice is a whisper, dancing in his ears and making him relax.

"England," he says as clearly as he can, leans his temple on hers, closes his eyes. "Have you ever been there?"

"I have not."

Stu hums, tired. "I'll show you some day."