It's hard to tell whether reviewers liked evil Syaoran x innocent Sakura or evil Sakura x pitiable Syaoran. Dangerous to play with a triple shot of espresso… Read at your own risk. This installment is a little more fan-service-y for the Syaoran fanatics, like me. Based on my experience as a barista, who, for those not in-the-know, is someone who works at a coffee-shop.
"I got it! I got it!" Sakura squealed as she exploded out of the doorway and jumped onto a massive lump of green covers on the bed. It gave a soft "oof" as Sakura straddled it and bounced happily, waving a piece of paper in her hand.
"Syaoran, for God's sakes, it's almost noon. Get up!"
The covers rolled back as a familiar rumpled mess of chocolate brown locks appeared. "Good morning, Sakura," Syaoran mumbled robotically. He should be used to this routine by now…
"Come on! Get dressed! You're taking me out for lunch at Puck's to celebrate." Though it was said sweetly, Syaoran could tell he had no choice but to get up.
"Sakura, I have no money for Puck's. Let's go to McDonald's."
That day, Syaoran learned the hard way that no matter what, taking a girl out to McDonald's is never an option.
Syaoran rubbed the crude bandage at his forehead as he glanced at Sakura, wondering exactly where his 5'3 girlfriend hid her muscles in her slender frame. He wouldn't have been so sour had it been any attack other than the signature move he taught her for self-defense; it was karma at its worst.
Sakura smiled up to him innocently as she turned back to her steaming plate of pumpkin ravioli. "Neee, I love Puck's. You love it too, right Syaoran?" she grinned.
"What exactly are we celebrating?" Syaoran grumbled without answering her as he peered into his wallet, which had curiously been looking much thinner since he started dating Sakura.
"Me getting a promotion in Mocha Mola, silly," she answered, sneaking a bit of chicken off his plate with her fork.
Syaoran's eyes widened. "Good god, I didn't think there was a position higher than glorified dishwasher!"
"Jade Leaf Slice!" Sakura uttered tersely as the heel of her new white Prada sandals he bought her connected exactly over the bandaged spot.
"Fucking hell, Sakura!" he cried, falling out of his chair.
Leave it to her to move so quickly that nobody in the restaurant noticed anything except Syaoran's flaming face as he crawled meekly back into his chair. He clapped his napkin to the freshly opened wound, muttering irritably. Sakura smiled, calmly stealing more pieces of his salad off his plate.
"As head barista, I'm still going to be waitress at the Mocha Mola café, but I don't have to bus the tables anymore. Plus, that means I get a raise while making sure the other baristas work efficiently," she continued.
A sudden thought occurred to him. "You're still going to wear that stripper's outfit, right?"
Syaoran was whacked appropriately, but he didn't mind as she nodded before eating the last crouton of his salad with a satisfactory crunch. He frequented Mocha Mola under the pretense of visiting Sakura at work, which earned him tons of boyfriend points, but it was also an excuse to indulge in the café's renowned eye-candy, the beautiful waitresses in candy-cane pinstriped uniforms, trimmed with lace along the low-cut neckline and a frilly petticoat that lifted the skirt and its crimson heart-shaped apron just high enough to display some thigh and the red ribbons decorating the top of the white knee-highs. At first, he had been against Sakura wearing it publicly, selfishly fantasizing about its uses behind the bedroom door, but the pay was excellent for a part-time job. He realized later he was foolish for ever dreaming that Sakura would one day pay for their dates. He compromised by guarding her from ogling customers, although he knew even now that with the raise, Sakura would still never pay for so much as train fare for them.
"I have a shift after this. Are you coming to visit me again today?"
It was a question that needed no answer. Despite Sakura's tendency to show her affection through overt violence, Syaoran knew there was nothing in the world to make him give her up.
"I'll drop you off there, but I have to run to the bank. I'll see you there later."
The bill was dropped in its leather enclosure in front of Syaoran. He took one look at it and sighed. He was definitely going to need to stop by the bank.
Syaoran's other joy in life, his silver Ferrari Maserati Spyder GT (A/N: forgive the author's involuntary moans inserted here), purred to a halt as he parked in front of the trendy Mocha Mola café. The wind that rushed over the windshield of the convertible ruffled his hair, and Syaoran tried vainly to comb it down with his fingers, glancing up at his rearview mirror. Giving up with the unruly mess, he leaned over to the passenger seat and grabbed the bouquet of flowers that Sakura had deigned customary he give every time he picked her up. A group of girls sitting at the tables in front of the café gazed over him interestedly, exchanging giggles and whispers as they audibly wondered who he was. He avoided their gaze through his dark shades, and only allowed himself to take them off when he got inside, a soft jingle of bells chiming as the door shut behind him.
"I'm very sorry sir, but please refrain from touching our girls. We are a coffee-shop, not a brothel," Sakura said calmly.
She was bowing slightly in front of a balding middle-aged man in a dark gray suit, whose round face was almost purpling with rage. His finger jabbed in the air as he shouted, another waitress cowering in fear behind Sakura with each movement he made.
"The customer is king. Haven't you broads ever heard of that phrase?" he snorted, giving Sakura a cursory gaze. "What the hell kind of business are you running here?"
"Hey," Syaoran began automatically, striding quickly between Sakura and the man. "Why don't you calm down, man?"
"And who the fuck are you?" he sneered. There was an intense smell of alcohol on his breath.
Syaoran smiled, gritting his teeth as his grip tightened around the stems of the flowers. "I'm nobody, but like the lady said, this isn't the place to go to fill those lonely nights. Why don't you come back when you're in the mood for coffee, eh?"
"Kid, fuck y—" The man had swung a tight fist at Syaoran, but he was too slow—Syaoran had ducked, and retaliated with a swift punch to his stomach. The bouquet burst against his chest, the flower petals dropping to the floor in a colorful spray. He groaned, rolling to the floor as Syaoran straightened, glancing at Sakura.
"You ok?"
Sakura glared at him. "Syaoran, I didn't need you to do that. I would have called the— watch out!" she screamed instinctively.
Syaoran spun around and suddenly saw stars. The man got a piece of his jaw, and Syaoran dropped the remainder of the bouquet, staggering backwards.
"You little shit, I'll fix you!" he cried as he swayed uneasily on his feet, reaching for the large espresso machine on the counter. A few customers screamed as they jumped back.
"Put that back down! That's a brand new machine!" Sakura cried out with frustration as she tried to reach around Syaoran, who was keeping her at bay.
Wet coffee grounds stained his white shirt as the loose pieces clattered to the floor. Syaoran threw a well-placed kick at his knees as the drunk heaved the steel machine high, aiming to pitch it at Syaoran. With a hoarse cry, the man fell over the machine, the stainless steel crunching horribly under his weight. He didn't move very much until the cops arrived with the paramedics to cart him away.
Syaoran found Sakura by the doorway, staring at the mess of broken pieces littering the tiled floor. He sighed, and grabbed her hand, leading her out of the place. She resisted, pulling at him.
"Syaoran, my shift's not over."
He didn't say a word as he firmly sat her down in the car, shutting the door as she gave up, sinking into the leather seat. He continued his silence as he drove, speeding through the streets as Sakura sighed and buckled herself in as she watched him.
"Where are we even going?"
Silence.
"Syaoran!" she shouted.
"We need to get you flowers. I busted them on that jerk."
The car was filled with silence again, but a slow smile was creeping along Sakura's lips. She leaned her head comfortably against his shoulder before tapping a small kiss on his cheek.
"Syaoran?"
"Hm?"
"You know, that was a $3000 machine."
"Mm-hmm…"
"Someone's going to have to pay for it."
Syaoran gulped. Although the expenses that came with dating the Card Mistress was acceptable, a $3000 bill for domestic violence was something the Li elders might not understand.
"Syaoran?"
"Yes, Sakura?"
"I took care of it."
Syaoran smiled, chuckling as he drove to the flower shop.
For all those curious, this really happened to me, except that my Syaoran (who doesn't own a Maserati, by the way, as much as I wish he did) laughed while the drunk guy picked up the espresso machine, which was ridiculously heavy, and tripped over the wiring himself, almost crushing his chest against the weight. My boss cut it out of my salary and promptly fired me. That was my one day trip as head barista. Please send him angry emails and letters.
Oh, and yes, Jade Leaf Slice is a signature kick that I stole from my boyfriend. Only I say it with such a graceful candor that he could never hope to achieve.
