A/N: Heeeeey peeps! How have you been, little cuties? I've been doing great! Also, this got stuck in my head and I needed to get it out. This is a very short story, a new small AU that I had to write because it was seasonal, like, a week or two ago. But never mind, have at it.
Big thanks to all of you wonderful people who reviewed, faved or followed, by the way, I love you all, you keep my spirits way up. So, have a go at it! Hope you like it my lovelies.
Title: Valentine's Night
Genre: Romance, a little Angst
Alternative Universe: Modern Day
The door of the bar opened and in walked the tall figure of a familiar person. Despite it being at full capacity, everyone was seated so the bartender could easily spot and be spotted by people; the new arrival waved at him and then proceeded to give a quick sweeping look across the business to spot the people he was looking for. Although he found it odd they weren't sitting at that cozy corner under the window, he pressed on further in, only to find them seated at a large table...accompanied by five women.
Ah. So that's how it was.
Actually, they were facing them, man sitting opposite woman, save one who was unpaired and looking off to the side, disinterested. Internally something kicked and advised him to get out of there immediately. Four men, five women and he just arrived? This was a collective date night, a collective first date night and they put him right in the middle of it, not only without asking, but with deception. He had half a mind to go there, show his face and walk away, but then again, that type of drama didn't suit him. He'd either turn around and leave now or go there and shut up about it.
But the bartender had already seen him and even actually gave him a thumbs up; the barmaid had, too and gave a large smile, a wink and whispered "I'll get you your regular as soon as you sit" in passing as she delivered another order. Damn. He couldn't leave now. His pride wouldn't allow it. So, begrudgingly, he made his way to their table.
Toudou's green eyes caught him first; he immediately waved at him, quite exuberant, drawing everyone else's attention. The whole works began and he hated how everyone, not just his friends, but the women started whispering between themselves, too. Uuuuuugh, this was going to be a long, long night.
Per usual, it was Okita who rushed to the meet and greet portion of the night; the moment he came close enough, the shortest man sprang up and exclaimed in his usual, upbeat tone: "you finally showed up! We started worrying you buried yourself under a pile of paperwork bigger than yourself."
But before he even put one word in edgewise, the man laughed, hitting him on the back as he turned to the small crowd. "This is the last member of the party, Saitou Hajime; Saitou, these are the lovely ladies who are keeping us company:" he started the introductions from the one furthest away from him, sitting in front of the only man wearing glasses or had curly hair, Nagakura Shinpachi "Aya-chan, Umi-chan, Sa-chan, Yuu-chan and Tokio-chan."
Although he nodded each time a name was mentioned, it was obvious something irked him and the women realised as much as the men, who became a little awkward. Trying to be less of a dick to them, he decided to address his issue.
"Now, if you could all tell me your proper names, it'd be great, because there's no way I'm calling you any of what just came out of his mouth."
Cue the polite laughs from the women.
"I'm Tokio," the one who was supposed to be his date for the evening, the disinterested one, said through actual chuckles "this is Yuko, Sachi, Umeko and Ayame; these two are sisters," she pointed to the two last ones and, to be honest, he would have guessed; they were identical: same shade of dark brown for the hair, the eyes, same features...only the length of hair changed, first had them long, second had a very strict androgynous haircut. Well, that and fashion sense, he supposed; Ayame sported a nice form-fitting dress while Umeko wore what appeared to be a suit.
He gave a curt bow in the end, but a bow nonetheless and proceeded to sit opposite Tokio. "I'm sorry I'm late, but I had to finish up the paperwork for a case we just closed; the case itself was difficult, too and that makes everything harder."
"The same paperwork I drafted and left on your office to go over tomorrow together, I presume," Okita teased.
"The very same."
This once, all of the men laughed. "He's the type of person you call a perfectionist," Harada Sanosuke, the only red-head, blue eyed man commented with a smirk; he was stocky and had a pleasing face, features betraying a mixed heritage. "He would micromanage every single case he has ever worked on, if he could."
"My, oh my," Yuko intervened, flicking her dyed blond hair "one might even say you mistrust other people's work."
"Ah, not at all; Saitou-san and I have been partners since we started working as detectives but we knew each other from the academy! We both know what the other is capable of."
"Maybe he's just a completionist," Sachi threw her comment out there, obviously uncaring but very focused on Toudou's beautiful eyes.
"Or, just as I mentioned," Harada spoke again "he's a perfectionist."
"Or maybe," Tokio started off innocently enough "he too didn't want to come here but his friends pestered him too much about it, thus he was inescapably late and probably left the other task unfinished."
Everyone at the table fell silent just to stare at her. Her friends were mortified; the men were honestly scared her friends would believe her and that would be the worst possible scenario for them because, damn, Tokio was astute, she hit the nail right on the head...! A disbelieving snort of laughter came out of Saitou's mouth and he shook his head.
"Or that...who knows..." And did she say "too"? Was she made to come, too?
"Le, let's not talk nonsense," Ayame rushed to salvage the situation "I'm sure Saitou-san isn't here by force."
"What I want to know is what this case of yours was about?"
"Oh come on, Umi-chan," Okita protested in a microsecond "you don't want to hear about work, do you?"
"Ah, that's right," Sachi helped out her friend "you are partners; tell us of your case, Saitou-san, Okita-san!"
"Sachi," Tokio drawled then, a little worn out "you really don't want to talk about blood, gore and murder on a day like this, right?" The look she gave her friends was all meaning. "Just lay back, drink your wine, relax..."
She really wanted to have no part in their conversation but the things her friends said were ridiculous sometimes; and yet, it wasn't the looks her friends gave her, scandalised or slighted, but the men's that caused her to feel a little self-conscious, despite looking mildly impressed. "What?" Her eyes went from Nagakura to Saitou repeatedly. "You guys are homicide, right?"
"H, how did you know?" Toudou asked.
"Well, you said your first case was what turned out to be a scandal with a politician's son about two years ago and cases such as these, take a lot of time; besides, the scandal of the Shigure family was the only one to come out in recent years."
"How astute of you, Tokio-san," Toudou commented "you are correct, too."
She gestured, palms facing upwards as if it was only natural she'd get it; Okita found it very amusing. "And what is it that you do for a living, Tokio-chan? Hopefully something that makes use of that intellect I hope."
"I'm a pastry chef."
Okita's eyes grew too large, Harada's following suit. "And you aren't working on valentine's day? Just how?"
"The boss knows I hate today, so spares me; I only do prep work." The girls giggled at that, but none of the men knew why but seeing it was a collective thing, they figured it was an inside joke.
But something didn't sit right with Toudou. "Why would you hate valentine's day?"
She shrugged. "I hated how everyone just expected me to give them chocolates because I was good at making them; or how I am supposed to like it because I'm a woman; or how it's become an excuse for couples to show off their supposed love that only lasts as long as the celebrations do; or—..." She noticed the mortified looks her friends gave her; the upset expressions on the men's faces; she coughed. "I just don't like it."
"Then why even come here," came Nagakura's natural, yet mighty perplexed inquiry.
She avoided looking at any person of her company. "Maybe, just maybe, I was lured out here with the promise of food, drink and a fun girls' night out..."
"Huh," the four of the five detectives did at the same time and proceeded to look at each other. There must have been an entire non-verbal conversation going on between them, maybe a little panicked and a little guilty. Whatever it was, it made Saitou sigh heavily.
"Tokio-chan," Okita started and he had leaned forward, hands on his legs "do you not want to be here?"
Ah, shit; she didn't want to make anyone feel bad. The way the men and her friends exchanged looks caused her to close her mouth before she made any sort of sound.
"This is so stupid," Harada stated and shook his head. "We dragged Saitou out here with false pretenses, too but we thought you actually—and—I just..."
"We are very sorry, Tokio-san," Toudou inclined his head "for ruining your night; you, too Saitou. We didn't have to guilt you into coming here."
The look he shot the lot of them was lethal; Tokio simply shook her head.
"But, guys, this is perfect." Umeko came to the rescue. "Since they both don't want to be here but they are both, well, out here, why don't we break off?" They were all curious to see where she was going with this. "We stay here, but Saitou-san and Tokio-chan can go have a drink somewhere alone in a less...um..."
She was looking for a word but it was just out of her reach; Ayame decided to help. "Pink?"
"Yes! In a not-so-pink venue, where no assumptions are made..."
Saitou's eyes returned to Tokio; the two strangers simply sat there, looking at one another for a long time. Everyone seemed to like the idea and encouraged them to take that course of action, but it wasn't until Tokio finally shrugged, accepting her fate that everyone cheered for their friends.
"I don't see why not; I was promised food and drink and so far have only gotten the former."
"I have gotten neither, you have no right to complain."
A disbelieving snort of laughter escaped her. "Are we comparing miseries? Let's just go; know any good places?"
She started rummaging through her bag, reaching for her long, black coat at the same time. Saitou helped her into it; it was modern and quite stylish. As he pulled the fabric over her shoulders, he couldn't help but notice how short she was compared to him—maybe 1,60 if he pushed it. And her hair were up on a messy bun on the top of her head, too, making her appear taller than she actually was.
"Some, but not so close here."
She finally found what she wanted, producing a wallet our of the seemingly small, black handbag. She fished some bills and left them on the table. Immediately all present protested, but she couldn't care less. "I'm not taking it back; besides, I've had three drinks so far."
An eyebrow rose. "Three? I was late an hour tops, right?"
"Well, yes, but I had to sit there and listen to them" she gestured to the lot of them wearily, as she fixed her collar "go on and on about how great today is and how pretty everyone looks and exchange information."
"Fair enough."
"Hey!"
"We're leaving now; have a nice night." Tokio bowed to everyone. "It was nice meeting you; see you later girls."
The moment they exited the bar, she heaved a deep sigh. "Today was grueling...!"
"Agreed...so, where do you wanna go? Wanna focus on food or drink?" He turned to look at her; he noticed from the way she held herself, how she was already facing the street opposite him and how she was angled away from him, she didn't want to do any of those things.
She wanted to go.
"Don't try to be nice to me, Saitou-san; you can go back to your paperwork...or home, get some rest. I don't know, do whatever you want. I only agreed in front of them to let both of us off the hook and spare us the ridiculous evening that was about to follow."
"You don't understand," he said in return, humour returning "tonight I promised myself I'd go out drinking with my friends and get absolutely shitfaced." Her disbelief was comical. "And now, here we are but there's no way I'm not going home."
He paused for dramatic effect, making her chuckle. "Did I ruin your plans?"
"You most certainly did and now have to make up for it. I don't care who you are, we're gonna get drunk with me."
She considered for just a second. "Know what? Why not. Let's go to that place you have in Mind and won't tell me about outright."
"I've been found." Her laughter followed and that accompanied them to his car, which was half a block away.
.
.
"Tokio, gimme that shrimp." She shook her head no. "I'll trade you the big mushroom."
"Throw in that egg, too and you have a deal."
They exchanged foods swiftly and chomped down without a shred of hesitation. Other than demanding about inconsequential things and vocal about her drinking preferences – or how ridiculous they were for that matter – he had been quiet. He was only sat there, swirling the alcohol in his glass before drinking a lot of it at once. In fact, he was on the fifth drink, while also sipping from her second cocktail. They had two shots in between and this was their second plate of food. And he still wouldn't say much about himself or why he wanted to get drunk...and it made her very curious.
"Spill it," she commanded out of the blue, causing him to look at her slightly distressed.
"I didn't spill anything," he defended himself but from her chuckle, he realised he misheard.
"I meant, what is it about this day that upsets you so?"
"My wife." Tokio's expression transitioned perfectly from understanding to confused to wide eyes and mouth hanging open. "My no-longer-wife, sorry; she left."
A small sigh of relief escaped her. "Oh, I see; did she leave you on valentine's day?"
"No; but she loved this day and we always did something nice. I never particularly cared for it, so I thought, why not?" She nodded. "Anyway, now she's no longer here and...her absence is even more pronounced, days like these, when we always did things together."
"Ah, poor you..." She was looking for the right thing to say. "Why did she leave you? When? Is there no chance to reconnect?"
He gave a very self-depreciating snort. "No chance whatsoever; it's permanent."
She put her hand on her heart, sympathy obvious in her eyes. "I'm so sorry; you look like you still love her a lot. Maybe if you tried harder or..."
He waved her away. "No, no, she didn't leave me; she left this world." Tokio's hands flew over her mouth. "She's, she's gone; she's not coming back."
"Oh, I am so, so sorry; I'm so sorry for your loss and my insensitivity, oh dear."
"I didn't explain it properly, it's not your fault," he assured her and downed the rest of his drink in one go. "But yeah, she's no longer here and days like these, hurts more than the rest."
Her heart went out to him, after it did that familiar thing where it squeezes really hard and releases all at once. She almost took his hand in hers but stopped herself; disregarding personal space was a third tier drunk ability.
"And it's been almost three years."
"As soon as you were made detective, oh god..."
"Yeah; been working like a madman just to have something to distract me."
"How did she...?"
"The transit went off the rails; there were many deaths, some were trampled. It was bad."
"I'm so sorry...!" But then she considered. "Three years is a long time. Didn't you date anyone else?" He shook his head emphatically no. "Nothing?" He did the same. "Not even casual things...?" Same thing. "You really love her; statistics show that the average for a man to start dating seriously again is about nine months. You're way above average. That's amazing."
"The doctor the precinct forced me to go to said I'm suffering survivor's guilt as well as developing a slight aversion to physical and emotional intimacy."
Tokio blinked. From zero to one hundred this person; he'd either say nothing personal or all together. But hey, at least he shared; that must have been some improvement. "That's understandable..."
She looked at him and how he was even more downcast, staring at his now empty glass and how it needed to e refilled. She bit the inside of her lip, thinking as fast as her slightly addled mind would allow. He didn't need to drink more but that's what he wanted. And yet, being out in the public and getting any more drunk wouldn't be sightly and she bet he was a man who valued his image.
She had an idea. "Do you like sweets, Hajime-san?" He nodded almost enthusiastic. "Then let's finish up our plates, pay and leave; I know just where to get the perfect cake and drink at the same time."
He needn't telling twice. "But we'll take a taxi," he said in the end, slightly swaying as he stood from the chair.
"No problem."
.
"This place is closed."
Tokio and Hajime were standing in front of a patisserie. The front of the place was large, but not ostentatious; all glass, separated in the middle by the door and the other two sides were filled with goods on display. Silverware, glass plates and hanging platters were the decorations that various sweets of all flavours were hosted on. They looked like works of art, tasteful and full of colour. They looked scrumptious, too, he felt his mouth watering just by looking at them.
But the problem was, there were no lights on. The business name, Mother's Kiss, wasn't illuminated and there was no soul going here and there inside. Despite the deliciousness of the wares, he could not taste them.
"I have my ways in," she urged, winking and moved towards the back.
"Need I remind you I am an officer of the law?"
"Relax, detective," she said through laughs and actually went to the backdoor. "It's not trespassing when you have keys." She took them out of her purse at the same time, jiggled them in his face for emphasis. "Now come on," she unlocked the door twice. She curtly nodded to the right. "We're going for the work stations."
The path was revealed to him, as soon as She opened the door: left led to the front of the patisserie where they served the customers and right must have been where all the baking took place, the true place of interest.
"You work here." He said it after he saw her open the door, like an idiot; he knew she was a pastry chef, she brought him to a closed bakery, why didn't he figure it out earlier? I was the alcohol. He knew, but he still felt like an arse, especially after she had to confirm it by jiggling the keys in his face once more. "Tokio, are you sleeping with the owner?"
She broke out laughing. "I can see why you'd think that..." A deliberate pause followed and her eyebrows wiggled. "I'm the owner, actually," she finally admitted "but I hate telling people when I first meet them. They assume too much."
He said nothing as she led him through the kitchen, pulled up a couple of chairs and both started undressing. She left her coat and bag on an unused counter and pulled up her sleeves, reaching for an apron; he followed her example only on the first bit and deposited his coat and jacket there, next to hers.
"You are rich."
"I am well-to-do; dad's rich. He helped me get this place off the ground as soon as I came back from Paris, two years ago."
"Paris?"
"I went to New York for the basics as soon as I finished high school; then Paris, for the advanced techniques; then came back to put my skills and knowledge to the test. And so far, so good!"
"Are you kidding? Mother's Kiss is one of the most talked-about places in the precinct. The women are always complaining or planning on going, it's very popular." A snort. "Generous dad."
"True," she drawled as she started gathering her supplies. "He even paid for all my studies and expenses over there; he's very supportive."
"So, what are you doing over there?"
"We made a batch of unusable sponge cake this morning; instead of one shot, an entire bottle of whiskey went into the batter! And since people come here for the whiskey flavoured cake and not the cake flavoured whiskey, we had to scrap it. But I hate throwing things out! I told them to keep it, maybe we could make it into some sort of topping or chop it, crisp it up and make it a tuile. But now look, we won't have to! Tell me Hajime, what flavours do you like?"
He shrugged. "I don't have preferences; so long it's tasty, I'll eat anything."
She tried really hard not to turn around and glare at him. "What's your favourite sweet?"
"Chocolate pie."
"So, you are a chocolate guy; should have said that."
"But I'd like to try something different; I have a famous pastry chef cooking for me, might as well take advantage of it."
She laughed at his honesty. "Alright; how about red velvet cake? Ever tried that?" He shook his head no. "Then I have just the thing."
Surprisingly, it didn't take long for her to whip up whatever she thought of, but had the courtesy to slide him a bottle of liqueur as well as two shot glasses. First time he filled and drank both but second and third, he gave her, her share and they drank while she cut the sponge cake in twelve, whipped the cream, decorated the cakes...and finally, presented them to him.
"These look...too nice to eat."
"No they don't; just try them."
He was never presented with anything so pretty and delicious at the same time for his personal consumption; he was torn between taking it home with him or actually eating one. They were perfect rectangles with red frosting surrounding them, bleeding into purple the lower it went while a crescent moon chocolate tuile decorated the top.
"Oh well."
She grabbed one with her bare hands, getting frosting on her fingers and bit into it; a little surprised, but finally snapping out of it, he did the same.
A sound he had forgotten how to even make anymore escaped him and looked at that damn sweet in shock. "What's...in this? It is beyond delicious."
"This is a small sponge cake with red velvet filling; used the same filling for the frosting around it, only coloured it. The tuile is just melted chocolate."
"This tastes...so good..."
He had gobbled down the first one and was already eating the second; an accomplished smile took over face and happily drank her shot.
It was about an hour later that Tokio could say she was drunk; her head span and her vision swam. Whenever she moved, she felt she needed to sit down for a century. Despite her stomach being full and all of her cravings for the night satisfied, she still drank too much, apparently, because she didn't want to leave her chair. Maybe that was what loosened her own tongue, coupled with Hajime's admissions from earlier, and before she had her last sponge cake, she opened her mouth.
"I never liked valentine's day, but it wasn't till five years ago that I truly hated it." He turned to her, as lucid as he could, to show her he definitely paid attention to her. "The guy I had been dating for three years, we were in New York together even, before we went to Paris, broke up with me." He nodded he understood, but she held up a finger and waved it left and right. "No, no, it gets worse; he broke up with me on New year's."
"Oh. Then...?"
"Well, then comes January, and his birthday was on the twelfth, so I text him happy birthday, right? I still loved him; he was the one who left me and besides, we'd been together for three years. Can't just erase all of those feelings...he responds, says thanks and all that. He texts a day later and the next and so on so forth...then, February tenth, texts let's meet up. I say I can't, too much work. Says he'll pop by my place. I say whatever. He comes, stays for a while, we talk things through, part on good terms and he leaves." A pause; she drew a long breath. "And then, valentine's day comes and what do I get? A text from him, threatening to leak my recipe book on the internet if I don't pay him ten thousand euros!"
Saitou's face twisted into an expression of pain and discomfort; she nodded wildly, unable to keep her head in place for too long, sobbing. "The bastard blackmailed me! He only came by so he could steal my notebook...naturally, I called the police and they made this whole sting operation where I got my recipe book back and we deleted all pictures of it from his phone, tablet, laptop, everywhere."
She sniffed and sobbed, but no real tears came, thankfully. Saitou didn't think he could handle it.
"So there it is; my reason for hating valentine's day...but please," like waking up from a nightmare, a little more lucid than three seconds ago, she turned to him "please don't tell anyone; you're the only person I have ever told about this, other than the police. No one knows. And I'd rather they didn't. I felt so stupid," she spat the word "don't want a repeat...I'm supposed to be the smart one, too."
Her admission to that did something to his psyche; it resonated with a part of him that he had kept concealed for so long and this, it prompted him to speak, too. He nodded, her secret was safe with him of course, but he was also torn; he wanted to share something, too, now that the drink was dominant and the pity party at full height. If not now, when, his mind screamed and he remembered the words of the psychologist he'd visited: whatever you're hiding is eating you up, you need to say it out loud. Out loud, yes...to someone other than himself.
He took a long, good look at the woman, who must have been too empathetic because damn, her eyes, though slightly unfocused, conveyed concern and curiosity, sensing his internal struggle all too easily.
"Since we're sharing deep dark secrets..."
He stopped to run a hand through his hair, comb it back. And yet, his hand never let go of them, clinging stubbornly onto them at the back of his head.
"It was valentine's day three years ago Yaso and I went out to a restaurant; pretty expensive for our standards, I complained. She said she'd make it worth the while. I relented. I go there, she's already seated at a table, beaming. We have lunch, drink, and when dessert comes, she breaks the news: she's ready. For what, I ask? To try for a baby, she answers."
Her heart stopped; his hand slid from his hair to his neck then, pretending to massage it, but it quickly came to the front, covering his forehead and eyes. Apprehensive, she watched as he took a long breath and then his other hand came at his face and now both palms pushed at his eyes. "I was the one who wanted a child the most; we have had that conversation before we got married and she'd said that when she's ready for something like that she'd let me know. And she did."
He leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on his legs, fingers now interlaced in front of him. "It was two months later that she called, excited, saying she just came out of the doctor's and she had the best news to tell me."
Tokio saw where this was going fast and she was already fighting back the tears. It wouldn't do to not let him finish his story properly, with her pathetic sniffles breaking up his flow.
"She didn't want to give any details over the phone, so she said we should meet to our favourite restaurant at seven; I told her I'd go pick her up, but she insisted she took the train otherwise we'd be late and she had already made the reservation." There was a long pause. "I knew she was right, because I always left late from work, so I caved..."
His chest heaved, anger and regret moving it. "Three hours later, I hear about the accident for the downtown-bound train. I called her a hundred times, but she wouldn't answer. That's how I knew. She always answered. Two more hours later, I get a call from the police station there: your wife's dead."
She was trying her hardest not to cry loudly, both hands covering her mouth; she could no longer see clearly for her eyes were filled to the brim with tears. When his head hang completely, she stifled a sob and finally closed her eyes, tears pouring over her cheeks.
"If only I had insisted instead; why didn't I say what I wanted? Screw the reservation, you're pregnant. I don't want people bumping into you. But all I said was fine because I didn't want to upset her, not when she just said...it's, it's my fault. It's all my fault."
"No," she was adamant "it isn't." But that bit he said, about suffering survivor's guilt, it all made sense now.
But he only shook his head and pressed on. "And other than her immediate family, I told no one. No one. Their condolences and their sorrow and their pity was already too much; imagine if I told them about...but she was and—..."
He could no longer speak, lest his voice broke. All the liquor in the world could not erase that feeling of loss and devastation; nor make it look like anything else. And she could not bear looking at him anymore, not like this. Her aunt and uncle had lost their son to cancer a year ago and they had been inconsolable; she couldn't even fathom what losing a child felt like. And despite all the support they received, they were still devastated. But he never told anyone; no wonder he had shut down and other than work, nothing changed for three years, he was broken.
She was bawling right about now, but she didn't care. "You said you were averse to intimacy earlier, and I don't want to push your boundaries, but can...can I hug you?"
All she wanted to do was hug him close, stroke his back and tell him it was going to be alright; he would breath again. This would pass.
"At this point, why not?"
It was barely a whisper, because, they both knew, had he put any more effort into it, he too would have cried; she unreservedly grabbed him, standing, and put his head on her chest. He pat his back, just like she wanted and rocked him a little. "You're going to be whole again," she spoke softly, through tears and sorrow "I know it. You are strong, you made it so far; you'll manage to make this a part of you. It'll always hurt, but, with help, it'll hurt less; it will be manageable. I promise."
He would snort and shake his head but she only increased the pressure, making sure he didn't leave. "I promise. You're going to be whole again. Just like potters do with broken cups, you just need some gold poured into the cracks."
"And what is the gold supposed to be in this metaphor?"
"Acceptance; that it wasn't your fault." He tried to jerk away from her, but she squeezed. "Accept that, and your world will start turning again; it won't happen overnight, but with time, it will. You just need to talk to someone about it."
"I'm...not telling...anyone."
"You aren't ready, yet, so it's only natural. Just...just know, you're going to be whole again. Maybe a little bent, a little patched up, but you will." He had stopped resisting physically, but not mentally. She leaned a little forward. "But you'll have to believe it, too. Alright?"
When she looked down, she realised he hadn't stopped resisting, he had fallen asleep. A watery snort of laughter escaped her and slowly, she let go of him. She had a small room upstairs, she had it made for those who needed to spend the night for whatever reason, but there was no way she could get him up any sort of stairs on her own.
She tagged on his hand and he stirred. "Let's get you somewhere more comfortable, okay?"
He nodded, and when she pushed behind him, he stood. "Can you go up the stairs?" His head hang in a lame attempt to say yes. "Great; come on."
It was a labouring task, but they made it there safely. Almost as soon as they came to a level, he fell forward on the bed. It was a pretty cramped, small room, so the only furniture inside was said bed, a small closet right next to it and a desk and a chair a metre away. She took off his shoes and he curled on it immediately; then she loosened his tie and opened up the two top buttons. There were only two blankets in the closet, she threw them over him. After he was successfully tucked in, she tried to leave, head for the chair, but he caught her hand.
"Stay...till I...fall asleep. Can't sleep on my own...if it's a...bed."
"Alright."
She pulled only one of the two blankets over her, sitting up next to him, still trying to fight back tears. Tentatively, she started caressing his hair; the effect was instantly visible, as he sagged, all tension leaving his shoulders and a grunt of approval was heard. She smiled through the moisture, sleepy and exhausted. This day was one thing after the other and how she ended up in her attic, taking care of a depressed detective, she would never have guessed. But life was full of surprises.
Before she knew it, she was fast asleep, too.
Next morning, she woke up from two annoyances: the sun hitting directly her closed eyes and the raging neck pain from her terrible sleeping position. The moment she made the mistake to try and move, not just her neck but her whole upper body creaked, while her legs she realised were numb. Perfect. She rolled her shoulders at the best of her ability and attempted to open her eyes.
She groaned as she stretched but froze mid-stretch when she saw she was alone in the bed; alert, she looked around her, only to find Hajime desperately trying to ease out the creases in his shirt.
"Good...morning," she said through a yawn, lifting the blanket off of her with tortuously slow movements. "That small door over there...leads to a small bathroom, if you want to wash your face."
"Hey, good morning; thanks, I already used it."
"Really? How long..." a big yawn "have you been awake?"
"Not too long, but you must have been too tired, didn't even stir when I rose."
"Hangovers are the worst," she murmured only to realise yes, her head hurt like hell.
He grinned, looking at her unable to stand, although she had uncovered herself. "Need help?" When instead of answering verbally, she only nodded, he almost laughed. "It's eight; what time do you usually open?"
"Ten; but...the noise downstairs means first shift's already here, for prep work." Another yawn as he pulled her up. "When do you start your shift?"
"Eight; I'm late. But I already called in to let them know."
"You're in the clear, then."
He snorted, as he turned around to put his things in order. "Not when I show up and Okita sees me in these clothes." She laughed, muted from the sleepiness still clinging on to her, but heartily. "But I can't waste more time and go change—I need to pick up my car, too."
"Ah right; we left it behind." He nodded morosely, as he fixed his collar. "Well, I see you are all set to go, so, um...goodbye I guess?"
It was then when he turned to look at her, serious and not as teasing as when she was struggling to stand. She took a deep breath.
"But I want you to know, the things I said yesterday, I meant them. All of them. It wasn't the type of thing one says when they get inebriated. The only thing the alcohol did was make me cry easier, I guess..."
She tried to joke in the end, but he didn't respond as one would expect. No polite smiles, no chuckles. Nothing. He simply kept staring at her, an incomprehensible look on his face, as he stood to his full height.
"Tokio," he said then, voice bordering on formal, even if he used no honorifics "I appreciate what you did for me. You are a very kind person. That being said, I'm in a hurry right now and I can't properly talk to you about things but, if you don't mind, I would like you to give me your contact information. I...liked talking with you. I'd like to keep talking to you."
Her cheeks were tinted a discreet pink. "I'd, um, I'd love to. And if you ever feel like sampling the rest of my merchandise, you're more than welcome to come, have a cake over some tea." She chuckled, as she took out her phone. "I know we are a little expensive, but I can give you a discount." Now it was his turn to chuckle, all while they exchanged information. "And maybe, if you come here more often than twice a month, I can treat you once or twice..."
"That sounds promising. I'll think about it." She bowed her head while he put on his coat and started for the stairs. "See you around, Tokio," was all he said as he became smaller and finally disappeared behind the door.
"You bet," she shouted back, just before the door closed behind him. A bitter but gentle smile appeared on her lips. Maybe both did hate valentine's day but, would you look at that, at least it shoved each in the other's way.
.
.
"And here I thought you still hated valentine's day," Hajime teased her the moment they met outside their favourite restaurant.
She was wearing a new dress, bold red and blue colours, with a deep cleavage. It was tight but flattering. She had chosen an equally striking red lipstick, pretty jewelry and, overall, it was obvious plenty of thought went into her outfit. And yet, when they met two years ago, she was wearing very plain clothes; and last year she herself had suggested they stay home and have some wine privately.
Yet, this time, Saitou had called her and asked her to get dressed and come meet him at Roccabianca at eight. She had suspiciously obliged without a protest and now he could see she was enjoying this. Not that that was a bad thing, but it did surprise him.
"Maybe I want to expel the bad luck, ever thought of that? Or maybe I have news I wanted to share with you and decided today was as good as any day."
"Huh; how odd. Me, too."
They exchanged a look. "Let's just go inside."
It was only after they had their meal, waiting for the dessert that either of them decided to even mention that thing they wanted to tell the other. "You go first," she stated "you were the one who arranged the date."
"As you wish. Well, you see, as I was getting ready one day, I realised how inconvenient it was to bounce from my apartment to yours every day, so I thought, why don't we move in together?" She stopped sniffing her mousse and looked at him startled. "Let's get married and find a proper home, convenient for the both of us."
Her eyes had widened for a second but then a soft chuckle escaped her. It transitioned into a smile and then, instead of an answer, she shook her head and rested it in her palm, as she leaned to the side to see him better.
"Well?" he urged.
"I have news; what I am about to tell you is one hundred percent true and will also serve as your answer." She took a deep breath. "Hajime, I'm pregnant."
His eyes snapped to hers and held her gaze for a very long time. Disbelief, fear and excitement all bubbled right underneath the surface. Slowly, imperceptibly, his chest rose and his eyebrows came together, while he tried to speak. She smiled fondly at him and he...he put a hand over his eyes for a very long second as he processed the information. A smile made its appearance in the end and once his hand left his face, it lay on the table, asking for hers. She gave it.
"I was two weeks late, had the store-bought test, it said positive; went to the doctor's yesterday, said congratulations, you are officially an expecting mother."
"Oh my God, Tokio."
"In eight months from now, give or take, he predicts, if all goes well."
"Tokio, I," he exhaled "you are not leaving the house again."
She laughed. "Hajime, that's ridiculous; of course I'll leave the hose...but I promise I'll call and text you my whereabouts, okay?"
"Please."
"And we're having the wedding before I start showing. Don't wanna have a big baby bump on my wedding photos."
"Whatever you want, arrange everything. Just give me a date and a tux and I'll be there."
"Perfect..." There was a lull of silence which Saitou used to make sure this was real and pace himself; she smiled. "To be honest, it was a good thing you asked me to marry you before I told you about this; I wouldn't have accepted otherwise."
"Nonsense; you know I love you anyway. And having a baby on the way is a very legitimate reason for a couple to get married."
She shook her head. "I love you, too, idiot."
"I love you both." They squeezed their hands at the same time. "But seriously, don't you dare go anywhere with public transport for the next eight months; if you don't feel capable of driving at any point just call me or one of your friends, or the guys."
She threw her head back laughing, shaking. "I promise."
A/N: Small, cute and cuddly, right? It got kind of heavy in the middle and after there, but all's well that ends well, yes? Also, I really wanted to write and publish this on Valentine's Day but nope, I had to be late. Oh, whatever. Please leave a review on your way out, tell me what you thought!
Kisses,
FAI~!