Requested by ChibiLarya- thank you
Shinji x Orihime
Jazz
She had been nonplussed when he had taken her to a jazz bar, but she supposed it made sense, just a little. There were people dancing, and drinking, and the atmosphere was light despite the smoky air and the warmth from the press of bodies. He had found them a table with an impressive speed, despite the crowd, and slipped away to buy them drinks.
She could feel the music making her itch to dance: it had a pulse and a rhythm quite unlike anything she had ever appreciated before.
"Do you like it?"
The voice was at her ear, over her shoulder, and she turned to smile at him only to find that he was already taking his seat across the small table. His smile was unwavering, his speed disconcerting and strangely attractive. She realised, with a sudden intensity, that she wanted him to ask her to dance.
He leant an elbow on the table, smiling still with a look of expectancy, and she remembered that she had not answered his question. She blushed, a little flustered at that. She had to lean over to be heard, strangely comfortable being that close to him.
"Yes, although it's not anything I've ever heard before."
He never did ask her to dance, not at the bar, anyway- instead he shifted his chair around so it was easier for them to talk. On the walk home, though- and he insisted on walking her to the door- he hummed big-band swing, and took her hand, spinning her around as they went, smiling all the while. She didn't think she had ever seen a person smile as much as he, but as he spun her against him she discovered that her own smile had not faltered for hours. She was sure the skin of her cheeks would split soon, ripping right open with joy.
They reached her apartment with a final move, as he leant her backwards, holding her with one arm, the way she had only seen done in films. He righted her, and touched her cheek briefly with the hand that did not still hold one of her own.
"Thank you, Orihime. I've had fun."
He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, a kiss to her palm, and then, with that wonderful lightning speed, a third to her mouth.
He tipped his hat, and sauntered off.
She watched him until he disappeared, and touched her tips with her fingertips. A moment later, he appeared again, leaning around the corner of the street. He waved at her, his own beaming smile wider than ever before.
The next morning, she woke to find a carefully wrapped jazz vinyl posted through her front door, with a note attached to the front.
'Apparently you don't have vinyl players anymore. If you want to listen, you can play it on mine'
There was no name, just the insinuation.
It was him all over, really.
