DAY 2: LUST

Modern Day Cat Cafe AU

Summary: Normally, Hinata is terrified of men. Sasuke, her cat-obsessed, cat cafe boss? Perhaps she can live with.

Characters: Sasuke, Hinata, Neji

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Trauma, Mild Smoochin xD


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Washing His Feet With Her Tears at a Cat Cafe

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"For the last time, Hinata. Care to explain? What do you get from this—this, rebellion?"

It's not rebellion.

"What do you get—what's even—ha! What's in that cat cafe—a cat cafe? I can't believe I just said that. Honestly. What do you even see in that microenterprise that constitutes a greater advantage over the long-term? Does it have gold buried underneath? Are you after some treasure like that?—"

Neji got it right. She is after some treasure. While he continued his tirade over the phone clipped into her ear by her shoulder, Hinata slung her tote on the other and laced up her boots.

"Neji-niisama, I'm sorry but my ears hurt already," she said after opening the door.

"No, Hinata! This is—you can't be serious. You need to take your place in the company. Now! There'll be dire consequences."

"Why does this concern me again?"

"Ha!"

Neji laughed in disbelief. Hinata could imagine her cousin tear out his long hair in wild rage.

"BECAUSE. You're uncle's eldest. It's YOUR company in the future. Get back in here, and I'll give you a piece of my mind. You never used to talk back. You—"

She smiled, recounting her recent feat. "I'm grateful that you think highly of me, but we both know it's gonna be Hanabi. I'm late, so bye!"

"Wai—"

She ended the call. Speaking her mind to Neji, standing her ground—talking back as he called it—it didn't stop there. She can now greet her landlord, the garbageman, (the train station officer), men who jog, men who go to the gym, men who smoke, men who stare, men in suits, foreign men, firemen, Rastafarian men, men with pets, attractive men, average-looking men, mean-looking men, opinionated men—men in general. She can now look at them straight in the eye and say good morning!

Back in high school, she cried and fainted before a breast exam, all because she was informed the examining physician would be a man. She'd come a long way, and she can pinpoint exactly who spurred this change: Sasuke.

The youngest son of the Uchihas, owners of Cat Cafe Schrodingan where she worked.

He's not a business school grad—a barista. (Not in a million years will her father approve.) Loves cats, makes swoon-worthy foamy latte. But her favorite from him was the hot cocoa because it wasn't on the menu. During the pandemic lockdowns, while the rest of his family retreated to the countryside, Sasuke remained to manage the family business which doubled as a cat shelter where customers can eat and drink while interacting with prospective adoptions. They fed the cats, cleaned. He never talked unnecessarily and usually kept to himself. But when he does, his piercing dark eyes stare directly into the soul. He gave her much-needed practice on eye contact with men.

Them alone together for the most part of the day, he would have had plenty of chances; but he never made eerie advances, slandered, or harassed her for her body, unlike her experience in her previous workplace. (No, not her father's company. But it wouldn't have made her any less anxious.) In other words, he didn't bother her with his leery interest. He's not interested, perhaps, in shapely women like her—if not women at all, an outsider is inclined to think—and that made her like him.

For the first time in her 25 years of existence, Hinata admits to liking a man.

Outside, it was thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit and snow had piled up overnight. She was breathing through her mask, her red scarf wrapped around her face as high up just below her eyes, that when she crossed the park, she almost didn't notice the commotion by the fishing pond. Someone had fallen in, she heard in passing. Two policemen patrolling the area veered on the edge of the pond with a thick rope tied to a lamppost, while another distraught man hauled his growling, fully-adult husky fixated at something in the water, out of the crowd. Hinata stood on tiptoes, trying her best to see with her five-foot-four frame amid towering shoulders. Out from the water into the snowed on concrete, the police rolled a person clutching to his chest.

Hinata gasped. "Sasuke?!"

She pushed her way in. His lips were almost blue and she could see how he had been holding a kitten.

"M-my house is in this area…" The policemen were trying to get Sasuke to come with him to warm him up, but he was against the idea. "No, no. As I s-said, I live in the—"

"Sasuke!" she called out, huffing puffs of frozen breath. Her heart skipped at Sasuke's evident relief seeing her.

"T-this i-is my—" He sighed and gave up the introduction halfway. "S-she knows me. She'll get me home. I need to get this k-kitten warmed up fast."

He's not interested in her and he's got his priorities all mixed up: these, Hinata discovered, comprised her type.


She wasn't supposed to see it. She was only five. If she didn't, then maybe she would've grown into a happier individual, comfortably interacting with the male population on earth.

Was it one of their servants? Most probably Neji. She couldn't remember who it was she played hide and seek with. In one of their storerooms near the servant's quarters, there was a cabinet that had been emptied the day before of curtains. Hinata knew about it. She played with the maids, helped them out stomp grime dust off the old ones that had been removed. The foaming bubbles were fun. Hanging the curtains, being chased around. She could remember she used to have so much fun around the house, despite her mother being sick most of the time.

But choosing that cabinet as her safe hiding place that day was a grave mistake.

Her little heart throbbed, thrilled she'd never be found. Once the seeker enters the room, she'd scare them out of their wits: they'd scream, they'd lose their hair, they'd faint! She giggled mischievously and reminded herself to stay quiet. The door creaked open. She peeked through the little opening she made, enduring heat, sweat, and the musty smell. They weren't who she expected to come. It was her father and with company—a young maid who had been with them for almost a year then.

To her great shock, her father kissed the maid in the mouth. Despite her young age, she knew her father was kissing someone he wasn't supposed to.

"The door," said the maid breathlessly.

Her father smirked. "Are you worried we'd be found out? Who will find out? This is my house." He lifted her skirt and shoved a hand in-between the maid's legs. Her face contorted in pleasure, whispering incoherent sentences.

Whatever transpired in that room that noonday, Hinata witnessed from beginning to end. Her seeker never found her. She resigned to coming out of the cabinet herself afterward. But she wasn't the same.

She lost her mother later that year. Her father then sent her off to her uncle's, to Neji's house, claiming he couldn't bear seeing Hinata's face for a while as she reminded him of his wife too much.

Being around her uncle and Neji, Hinata noticed, began feeling different. She was hyper-aware of what comprised their parts, especially of what's in front hidden under their pants, what they could do with it—grabbing, thrusting into the mouth, humping. It always brought back the incident she witnessed at home.

Neji could never understand why she began avoiding him, why she always appeared scared. And he conceived this as a weakness of character and has bossed her around since. She always seemed out of it, not knowing what to do. He never understood. Neji and his father—they owned the house.

Her father owned the house.

He eventually took her to live with him again after marrying her third-grade teacher. It started one PTA meeting with them; Hinata wasn't doing well in school and as her teacher discussed her problematic grades, her father kept throwing lecherous glances at the woman. They then had Hanabi who came to want Hinata's things all to herself. There was no stopping him. He took what he wanted, did whatever floated his boat. Ultimately, Hinata realized at a young age, that with the strong arm with which her father grabbed the panting maid's hair, he decides whatever happens to her life.

Such is a man, and every other man she knew at school and later in the workplace. And there is no one to rescue her.

Then she came to know a different kind of man. A foolish man, a man who values a cat's life over his own comfort.

From the park to the cafe, they walked for a good ten minutes. Hinata wanted nothing more for him to be rid of his wet clothes, to be dry and warm, all the more with the stiff wind biting harshly at the exposed parts of her face. Yet, she knew best. He is not one to listen. In a panic, she unlocked the cafe's door, only to be rendered at a loss for words when Sasuke, with his now bluish fingers, dried the cat instead, warming it up with breath from his mouth.

"Ah, this won't do!" he groused, his brows furrowed, more likely talking to himself. Then he paused abruptly, electric sparks zapping at the back of his mind. "The old kerosene heater! Where was it again?"

Dashing from the customer's area into the authorized personnel only zone which was actually the family's living area, Sasuke left a trail of small puddles of water. He scoured all over the place and couldn't hear her calling out his name.

"Sasuke San!" She tried a little louder. She caught his attention this time. Hinata had never seen him like a tornado before, leaving a mess in his wake. "T-T-Take—!" It was impossible to get a word out. He was scaring her, mostly out of concern.

Then, as if he had only noticed, he looked at her from head to toe, his deathly graying features aglow at the sight of her. How easily she shrinks and explodes from the inside as though zapped with the smallest, thoughtless thing he does.

At bullet train speed, he was suddenly in her face. Albeit in gray, deathly pallor, and matted hair pasted to his forehead, she couldn't help note the beauty of his chiseled cheekbones and the lovely shape of his darkening, trembling lips. With him so close—and what's this? With so much want exuding off of him, Hinata burned up. He inched even closer, pulling, undoing her scarf, until she was backed up against the wall.

"S-Sasuke San?! Wha—! No—!" She flailed, blocking his attempts. But as expected of a man, though frozen to the bone, he was stronger and quicker.

He pulled at the zipper of her jacket, tugged it down fully until it came apart. She meeped, ready to run for help next door. Then he pressed the towel-wrapped butterscotch tabby kitten into her chest and zipped her jacket back up.

"Y-you're w-warmer," he said, his only remark towards her. The rest of his choppy conversations he directed to the kitten. "It's gonna be alright," he gently assured it, as if speaking to a hurt child. It was equal parts touching and maddening. When she downright felt his frozen fingers touching the insides of her wrist as he wrapped her arms around herself to warm up the kitten more, she lost it.

"What do you think you're doing, Mr. Uchiha?!"

"Y-you're do-doing a g-great j-j-job," he replied, a smile tugging a corner of his mouth. Hinata doesn't know if he meant her or the kitten.

"Do you want me to undress you myself?" Dead silence followed. "N-no! I was saying, get rid of your wet clothes, warm yourself. Now... That's what I was saying. 'Cause you're—" Her voice faltered. She could barely hear her words.

He went to the bath eventually, but this wasn't until Hinata swore she'd look for the kerosene heater and make sure the kitten would be comfortable.

At first, she thought of a kotatsu. The kitty will get warm fast. But Sasuke's mother had taken the kotatsu with them and Sasuke didn't purchase a replacement—either he forgot or didn't want one because it would mean less money for the cats. Besides, the cafe had under-floor heating, anyway.

She then thought she'd ask Buster the Scottish Fold to share his heating pad with the newbie. He didn't seem to mind, but he didn't seem too thrilled, either. He wouldn't budge out of his splay, his tail swaying suspiciously. Threat lurked behind the cat's nonchalance.

Hinata sighed. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?" She wanted nothing more than to help Sasuke at the moment.

After blow-drying the damp kitten, Hinata put it back inside her jacket between her breasts. She mopped the floors, tidied up hoping to find the kerosene heater. None. Then she recalled the family has a defunct chicken coop where they dump broken appliances and kitchen utensils. She's never raised chickens, but if TV shows featuring poultry and egg production businesses were anything to go by, heating is a must.

She braved the slam of harsh, chilly winds outside to get to the chicken coop. There were four lined up on one side laced with dirt, clumps of dust, and cobwebs, above the chicken brooder. Tracing the wires, they were tacked to the wall framing of the coop, unplugged, with no electrical socket in sight. Hinata went back to the cafe to get pliers, pulled out the cable staples on one lamp, and took it inside to clean it. If it didn't work, she'll have to go back and do it again to retrieve the other three. Thankfully for Japanese Manufacturing, the lamp still worked.

Hinata then cleared out two tiers of the wire shelving the family used for plants. She improvised to hang the lamp on the top tier and placed the kitty in a box on the lower tier, swathed fully with towels.

Satisfied she had done enough for now, she wiped the sweat off her brow and headed to the bath. The lights had been turned off. Where else could Sasuke possibly be? She stopped by his room, knocked on the door, and when she heard 'come in', she found him a miserable, shivering man under two comforters (the duvets his mother had taken with her, too). Clearly not enough. His room was also too cold with no space heater, a torture he undertook to save money over the winter.

"F-feet s-so c-cold," Sasuke mumbled. He clearly wasn't his usual self. He'd been more chatty in the past hour than he did the whole pandemic lockdown.

"What about socks? Did you wear socks?" Hinata asked, biting her nail, pacing around his bed, trying to think of ways to help him.

Sasuke thrust one foot out of the comforter. He had a black sock on, often worn with leather shoes.

"You should wear more. Where do you put your socks?"

"N-no. No m-more socks." He curled his shivering self back into his shell.

The sight gripped Hinata's heart with pity. Poor Sasuke Uchiha couldn't even afford to buy more socks just to keep the cat shelter running. Until she saw a basket of unfolded laundry near a stack of lifestyle magazines.

"Oh, I found your socks!" They were the same black cotton socks. No thick, woolly, fluffy ones.

"N-no more socks." His head popped out again. And he looked quite angry. "W-waste of l-laundry soap."

"You can just wear them again."

He scrunched his nose as if that was the most disgusting thing he's ever heard. Ever a neat freak; he taught her how to mop when she thought mopping couldn't get any better.

"I'll run the bath. Why don't you get another soak?"

Sasuke shook his head rather vehemently at this suggestion. "I-I feel like the wa-water gets cold fast with me in there. L-let's n-not waste gas. I-I'll be alright. S-shivering h-helps."

Oh, Kami-sama.

He wasn't making sense. He's gonna die of hypothermia, and he's more concerned about economizing his resources. It's never easy going against a man's authority—she didn't own the house. But, oh, Kami. Help her help this helpless man.

"W-where a-are you g-going?"

Without another word, Hinata prepared a hot foot bath and a hot water bottle to keep his core warm. To these, Sasuke voiced no rejections and obediently stayed put while she blow-dried his hair. He reminded her of the cats, his hair soft like their fur. Then he laughed.

"That was pretty close, wasn't it?" he said. Hinata shortly thought he was talking to her until he mentioned the cats gathered around him—Miso-chan, Buster, Felix, and Chichi—curious about the warm pail for the most part.

Hinata secretly rolled her eyes. Pretty close? To death? Since when was that a laughing matter? She switched off the blow dryer and turned around to unplug it.

"Thanks, Hinata… You really saved me this time. And for staying with me up until now…"

"O-oh. It's nothing."

On the fore, she was smooth, hard-boiled egg. Cut her in half and she's melted goo inside.

"Unfortunately,"—Sasuke slumped his shoulders, his face turning serious—"I can't afford to keep you working here next month…"

Color drained out of her face as she heard Beethoven's fifth.

What is this man talking about? He of all people should know. Unlike the rest of his staff who resigned over delivery stints that paid better before Sasuke could lay them off, she worked here because she wanted to, not because of the pay.

She wants to stay. This can't end!

Eight months into her previous job, her anxiety at work took a turn for the worse when she heard male colleagues place bets on who will end up sleeping with her by the next week in the breakroom that afternoon. It was near the Cafe's closing time then. Sasuke was cleaning his apparatus when she arrived visibly shaken, her eye makeup a slight mess. With deadpan expression, he offered hot cocoa reasoning it would be rude to send a frequent customer away with nothing.

Maybe it was the warmth, maybe it was the sweetness, or maybe the cats made her loose-lipped—it would be nice to work here, she said. Sasuke informed they were hiring, that she'd be perfect, and then went on with his business drying a decanter. No other questions asked. No unsolicited, offhanded judgments about how a business grad like her in a crisp blazer and pencil skirt shouldn't work at a cat cafe because that would be a major lifestyle downgrade. She was simply a tired salary woman who found sought-after understanding in a cat cafe barista's matter-of-fact statement.

"Next week… I need to find them new shelters," he continued.

Sasuke looked around his remaining cats: the ones gathered around him, the ones hanging up the cat tree, and the ones sleeping on the floor. 12 cats all. He could name them by heart, all trained by him. He could tame even the most feral stray. Hinata could watch him play with them for hours. With the cats, he is unwound and carefree, a flipped switch contrast from the focus he demanded of himself when making drinks for customers.

"I can't keep depending on Itachi. Actually, he got married last month. And business had been close to none since the reopening, so… I need to face reality. I can't keep living this childhood dream forever... It's just that I hate it, you know… These cats getting passed on from shelter to shelter. Doesn't sit right with me. They may be dumb creatures, but they, too, can suffer a sense of loss from losing their home. They, too, can suffer sadness like that. Even if other people choose to ignore it."

Oh, Kami-sama.

Hinata dipped a finger into the pail, pretending to check the water temperature; pretending swirling her finger was doing something. Because the fat tears wouldn't stop rolling out, falling into Sasuke's soak.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "Oi. Your hair's getting into the water. See here your—"

When Sasuke reached below, Hinata grabbed his wrist and kissed him.

His lips: softer than a cat's toe bean, sweeter than hot cocoa.

She could wax poetic endlessly.

Sasuke pulled away, the back of his hand pressed on his lips. A slight blush tinged his cheeks. And his ears. They, too, were flushed crimson.

He was too cute.

Never had Hinata been so struck by so beautiful a visage up close that the mere sight of his pale neck leading to an exposed part of his chest scorched her with fire, gathering heat in her loins, her mouth parched dry.

Oh, the things she'd do for him.

"What are you—!"

"Marry me," she said, almost out of breath, fixated on his mouth.

"Do you even hear what you're saying?!"

"There's a job offer I was on the fence about—"

She'll beg Neji if she has to. More likely, he'd be celebratory.

"The pay's huge—"

It better be. She'll work hard like never before.

"I can support the cats, the cafe—I'll give you whatever you want—"

Hanabi who? She'll take over the company. Give it five years.

"That's why marry me." Edging in, she trapped him against the chair with no escape. She'll do everything in her power to protect this man's dreams and keep his good heart.

"Sorry. This is too sudden. I'm confused. I can't decide right now," he said, head turned to the side with Hinata breathing close on his neck.

"Can I kiss you again…?" she said, licking her lips. "I think I'm going crazy."

Sasuke reluctantly removed his hand from his mouth. "I can see that…" He nodded. "I guess I don't mind."

Gently, she pecked. Sasuke's lashes fluttered close, his breath tensing.

Hinata smiled. "You're still cold, aren't you?"

"Why are you crying?" he whispered as he brushed his thumb on her cheeks.

She kissed his palm smelling of mocha, slid into his lap, pressed her body into him, and gave him a fuller kiss.

It wasn't enough. She could tell him why; she could not. There were no words precise enough to explain why she wants to taste his mouth, feel his tongue, make him feel hers. Why she wants to render him breathless, wincing at the pleasure of her touch, his head thrown back, neck stretched out as she so slowly, painfully, glided her hot tongue on the ridges of his vocal cords, her fingers deliciously circling sensitive places. Already, he was moaning her name—Hi, like he'd die, stabbed in the gut; Nata, like his spirit had left his body—while she caressed him down there, cupping him tenderly under his pajamas.

It would be a lie to deny that her first sexual encounter with Sasuke didn't bring back to mind her pained childhood. She had always thought sex was disgusting, that the ache between her legs from having borne witness to her father's acts was a vile sort of feeling. Getting to know Sasuke, his innermost parts, the man that he is, it was as if she could come to terms with being her father's daughter. As if all the latent lust in her blood, which she was used to relieving herself while hating herself for it, poured out into him a thrashing river and then a calm dam, gushing with the sweetest waters focused on his pleasures. And with her every kiss, wishes of blessings, wishes of flowers to bloom upon his skin, to honor him, to love him for the rest of her life.

They were married three months later with a bigger, more popular cafe (all the rave on social media for their Youtube videos featuring cats, recipes, and a mysterious, cat-headed barista with handsome hands), employing more staff, and with more cats—rescues anew and some cats who were firsthand witnesses that day.

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End.


Following the titling pattern of Judas' Act and His Toys, I entitled this Washing His Feet With Her Tears at a Cat Cafe based on the story of Mary Magdalene where she washed Jesus' feet with her tears, wiped them with her hair, and anointed them with perfume.

The next one is the last one. Day 6: Gluttony.