How About a Cup of Coffee?
Chapter 9
*
The next morning at work, Serena was bone-tired. The sleep had somewhat lessened the pain and the frappuchino Darien had waiting for her that morning was dulling the aches—but there were some things that just couldn't be fixed.
She groaned and reached for another exotic scarf of the rack. Darien had told her to dress for this meeting—that she could wear whatever she wanted—as long as it came for the company's supply. So here she was, stuck in the vaults of the company dressing areas, picking out a presentable look.
A chuckle interrupted her thoughts. "You can't find anything?" asked Lita sympathetically. She'd been searching with Serena for an outfit since Serena had dragged her out of a meeting, demanding for help.
"No. Not a single thing. Everything looks too… frumpy or slutty, or just… not me. I can't find a single thing." (Not for a lack of trying though, for they weren't lacking anything.)
"Hmmm." Lita rifled through a rack that was rather hidden behind a few others. Her nimble fingers viewed through the rack carefully, and then caught on a fabric with blue sequins. She paused. They may have just met their match.
Her back to Serena, she pulled out the dress, frowning when she noticed she 'hold' tag on the hanger. She looked at the name and bit back a groan. Then she checked the size and grinned.
It was for Madison, but there was no way that model was a size four anymore. Her chest alone—since she'd gotten-ahem-improvements—would rip the delicate seams on the dress. There was an accompanying jacket that went down to nearly the bottom of the dress—which ended just below the knee.
She pocketed the tag with a wicked smile. "Hey, Serena!"
The blonde looked up over a few racks, "Yeah?"
Lita held up the dress with a triumphant grin. "We found your dress."
***
The air was chilly, still damp and Serena shivered from the feeling. Darien noticed it, and was about to remark on the sad excuse she was wearing for a coat, when he noticed—not for the first time—how well the dress fit her.
It clung to every curve she possessed, enhanced her chest, and smoothed over her body like butter. He gulped and absently patted his hair down as the wind from the helicopter's blades ripped apart any sense of calm.
Her blue eyes widened in size as she watched the powerful air-borne transport land on the launch pad before them. Darien grabbed her arm to pull her back, but she barely felt the tingles running up and down her spine, so in awe was she of their transportation.
Barely felt.
There was definitely some tingle-age. (AN: lol.)
The doors slid back and two efficient looking people climbed out. One, with long, aqua colored, wavy hair, and the other, with short, dirty blonde. A man and a woman, and they seemed to be completely in control.
The man approached Serena, a move that did not go unnoticed by Darien. "Hey. You're new. I'm Haruka Ten'ou. Welcome to my helicopter."
"You—Your helicopter?"
"And mine." The woman piped up. She stood next to Darien and smiled. "Glad to have you back, Mr. Shields."
It was going to be a long day.
***
The ride was pretty much uneventful, except for some winds they came into halfway to Boston.
Serena was quiet—a first for her—wondering if she'd done the right thing by agreeing to come with him.
The two pilots were obviously at ease—with each other and with Darien (she got the impression they'd flown him before). It was almost funny, she mused, unaware of the grin on her face, but she could have sworn that the Ten'ou man was flirting with her. Unable to repress the memory, she had to acknowledge that the graceful Kai'ou woman had taken to Darien much in the same way.
That caused a small dart of… something to pierce her heart and she frowned. Abruptly, tired of the route her thoughts were taking, she turned in her seat to look at the tall blonde man with the headset.
"How much longer?"
He turned and smiled—confident that Michiru would take the controls. "We've only a few minutes left—15 to 20 at the most." His gaze seemed to be assessing her feelings, for next he said to her, "Calm down, little bumpkin. It can't be that bad." And then he flashed her a grin that should have made her heart bottom out.
Of course, when the passengers weren't looking, he felt the repercussions of that little act, and winced.
Michiru still packed quite a jab.
***
Darien wished he knew why she was so nervous. And he wished that Mr. Ten'ou would keep more to himself instead of Serena.
They began their descent and he glanced at Serena for what felt like the millionth time, except this time, she looked a little green.
"Serena?"
She pasted a smile on her face. "I'm fine." She stated unconvincingly.
The pilots were too engrossed with the landing procedures to notice.
But Darien wasn't.
***
She wished she had eaten a little more before the flight. Or would that have made her sick feelings worse? And she also wished Darien would stop staring at her. It was bad enough that she felt ill—she didn't need Darien to make her feel worse about.
Hmph. He's probably afraid I'll get barf all over the helicopter.
Suddenly the idea of barfing seemed all too likely, and so she held her breath for the duration of the landing.
Finally, they touched the ground and she let loose a big sigh.
Haruka barely had time to clear the door before Serena rushed out of the door, and leaned over the side of the building, tossing up her breakfast.
***
Like a shot, Michiru and Haruka ran over to help Serena. Haruka tenderly wiped her mouth, and helped her to a sitting position while Michiru brushed back her hair and rubbed her back soothingly.
Darien, who had been watching all of this from inside the helicopter, struggled with his briefcase and Serena's rather large carryon bag. An odd feeling came over him as he saw his two main pilots calming her. Like he had seen it somewhere before. And apparently, they weren't all that opposed to the idea—hell, they had just met and were all over her like she was their long lost sister or something. The tenderness in the situation nearly overwhelmed him.
Finally, just as he was approaching, Serena stood up, helped on either side by the pilots. As if she were the one in charge, she reached for her handbag—took it out of the large carryon, and smoothed her dress down.
"Let's go."
***
They made it into a rather large office building, that—unbeknownst to Serena—was also owned by the company—and made their way to the top floor.
At last, they reached a set of imposing oak double doors and Serena stopped in her tracks, looking up at Darien nervously. "You sure this is what you want to do—you want me in there? I mean, I threw up over some poor guy down below this morning, so I'd totally understand if you didn't want me to—"
"—Serena." He grabbed her shoulder with one hand, taking in her appearance again. The dress showed no sign of this morning's events and her hair, which was styled in loose waves (AN: Think *grimaces* Britney Spears here, except without the dark ugly roots and platinum color.) and her blue eyes were sparkling; with nerves or excitement, he couldn't tell. "It'll be fine. I need to talk over the plans for Milan, and they need to see our newest model."
Her forehead wrinkled. "But can't they just see pictures?"
He gave her a hard look and opened the doors to shove her inside.
Serena wasn't sure, but she thought he mumbled something about 'pictures not doing justice.'
***
The next 20 minutes were somewhat of a blur to Serena. When they walked in, the meeting that the chairmen—and women—were holding had come to a screeching halt. Then, one especially warm man had come over, shaken her hand, and enveloped her a bear hug. The love behind the gesture was overwhelming, and she had definitely teared up when the meeting was over.
Everyone had been especially nice to her, and even when they had to kick her out to talk business with Darien, they'd done it nicely.
Her stomach growled as she realized it was probably after lunch, and she was hungry. Her toes traced the pattern of the rug below—a rose pattern not unlike the one where the express elevator was, and she smiled at the familiarity.
There was the sound of a discreet cough and she whirled around to see Darien standing there, tugging off his tie.
"So, Serena. You survived the board meeting. How do feel about getting some lunch?"
"Um, okay Darien. What did they ask you?"
He looked down at her, even as he steered her to the elevator. "What—oh. They wanted to talk over details about the trip to Milan and they wanted me to ask you if—"
"—No way Darien!" Serena held onto his arm like a vise. "There is no way in Hell I am going back on that thing," she pointed at the helicopter, "again." She turned around very sharply, causing the seam in her skirt to rip. (AN: yep. Again.)
He had to steel his eyes to look at her face, and not down at her legs—they'd come farther than that. The raw, naked fear in her eyes scared him. And something inside of him snapped. "Okay Serena. We'll drive back to Manhattan. But before we do, we really should eat something."
Her spirits rejuvenated, she favored him with a mega-watt smile. "No argument there."
***
They had taken a car that Darien kept in the parking garage of the board meeting for occasions when he wanted to spend some time in Boston.
The route they took gradually became less and less populated until he turned off onto what looked like a private road. There were trees above their heads and Serena leaned forward in her seat, certain that she was going to be awed by the place where they were going.
When they finally cleared the driveway, Darien pulled into a circular unpaved path and parked the car.
Serena was awed, all right. She was absolutely floored. "This—this isn't a restaurant, is it?"
He chuckled at her astonishment. "No, Serena. This is where I used to live when I would run the company from home. You do want to come in, right?"
"Oh yes."
"Good. Let's go."
***
Serena sank down onto a violet colored chair and forked some penne with vodka crème sauce into her mouth. "This is—so good. Where did you get it from?"
Darien walked in from the kitchen, his heart twisting painfully as he saw her ensconced in his favorite chair. She looked so perfect there; he didn't have the heart to ask her to move. "Actually, I made it." At her incredulous look, he laughed. "Don't look so shocked. After my parents died… I had to take car of myself. Our housekeeper, Vera, stayed… and she taught me how to cook."
She placed her bowl down on the glass table in front of her. "Darien, I didn't know your parents died."
He tried not to look at her expressive face. "It happened a long time ago. When I was about 10. As soon as I turned 19, I made sure I left for America—Japan held too many bad memories for me—and that's how I came into the ownership of this house."
"So that's why I didn't see you after high school. Oh god, Darien, I had no idea." She got up off her chair and walked over to him; then she leaned down to give him a hug and he hesitantly embraced her back.
She smelled of warmth and flowers—was it roses in particular?—but something inside him healed as he realized she was giving him comfort in the only way she knew how—through love.
Finally she leaned back and kissed his cheek. "I know you might not want to talk about it—but I'll be here if you ever do. Just so you know, you're not alone in that boat. My parents died when I was 18—a freak accident—and Mina's mom took me in. That's why we're so close."
He swallowed, a particularly painful action, and stood, trying to regain his composure. "We should get back."
She nodded and took their plates to the kitchen, leaving him alone to sort out his thoughts.
***
The drive back was quiet, Darien coming to terms that he'd actually bonded with Serena—who was supposed to be his mortal enemy—and the with the shocking fact that her parents had died, too. With a start, he realized that he never asked her what the board had asked of him—to have her come as his date for the trip.
He spared Serena a glance, and smiled gently when he saw that she was sleeping. Her head was propped up by her hand, which was propped up by her elbow that was leaning against the window. Her long blonde hair was settled softly against her shoulders and she looked—for once—at peace with herself.
He couldn't explain it, but Darien swore that there was always something going on in her life that made it impossible for her to be complete, a hundred percent of the time. Sure, she was happy, and optimistic—a quality that he didn't possess—and yeah, she was even smiling at every chance she got. (He supposed happy people did that a lot.) But still… it was like something was missing…
Darien came to a stop in front of the apartment building, feeling a sense of déjà vu wash over him. Although he had come here two nights ago, it had been for an entirely different reason. Sighing, he leaned over and shook her shoulder gently.
"Serena? Serena it's time to wake up, we're here."
The blonde rubbed her eyes and sat upright. "Hey. This is where I live. How did you know that?"
He blushed, "I came to pick up the airline arrangements from Rei, remember?"
A pink tinge covered her own cheeks. "Right."
They sat in the car for a few seconds while Serena gathered her stuff—the huge carryon, her pocketbook, the jacket that went to her dress, and she slid out of the luxury car.
"If you give me your keys, I'll have someone drive your car home for the morning." He offered, not wanting her to leave just yet.
She grinned and dug through her bag until she handed him her keys. "You do think of everything."
He tilted his head and managed a lopsided grin—that made her heart drop into her feet. "I try to take good care of models that survive my cooking—that for me, is punishment enough."
Sliding the bag onto her shoulder, she fitted her key in the lock until the doorman buzzed her in. He watched her carefully, wanting to make sure she got in okay. At the very last second, she turned around, "Thanks Darien!"
And he knew that all was well in her world.
***
Author's Notes:
Sorry this took so long to get out, you guys. I really am sorry—but had a few other things that took priority. Um. Oh! If I missed anybody on the update list, or you didn't get an invitation, click here to sign up.
I realize that this chapter was probably lacking details… *I* thought it was, anyway, but I had to sacrifice SOMETHING to get this out by today. It was pretty vital that I did, too. BUT—this chapter was a long one—longer than normal, so you should all be happy with that.
Next chapter—which you should all review for—is the plane trip to Milan. So cheer up! The story's almost halfway done.
Also, keep reading Fleur's stuff, and leave reviews! She's my editor—the main one—and I need her in good spirits to keep doing my chapters. Right now, she has this really funny Harry Potter parody out—go read that! It's hysterical—I don't even READ Harry Potter and I was cracking up.
Ahem.
Anyway.
Now, before anyone jumps all down my throat about Ms. Britney, you should know that I don't hate her. I don't necessarily love her, but I definitely do not hate her. I have all the CD's, and I listen to "Overprotected" regularly—since that's what I do my stomach crunches to at the gym. (And let me just tell you—that is such a good CD to work out to.) Anyway. Not that you all needed to know that, but now you do. Plus—on MTV TRL radio right now, we've got Ms. Spears singing "From the Bottom of my Broken Heart." So yeah. I'm in Brit mode.