Author's Note: Don't own A:TLA, not making any money from this, et cetera et cetera et cetera. This is a standalone piece set in the same continuity as Loveroftheflame's modern-day AU Zutara/Harula drabble series "Striking A Balance", and takes place in her continuity a little while after the chapter titled "Kink". However, it's written to be readable as a standalone, so feel free to jump on in -- all you really need to know about this particular AU is that it involves twenty-something versions of Haru, Suki and Azula living in New York City. Everything else beyond that will be explained as you read on...
I have GOT to stop letting my laundry pile up for so long, Soo thought as she frantically juggled her overloaded duffel bag and the key to Haru's loft. It's not like SHE'S ever HERE, after all...down girl, you had your chance once and you blew it, remember? With a sigh, she squelched the familiar twinges of jealousy and regret, forcing her voice into its usual bantering tone as she fought with the heavy door. "BURGLAR! Friendly neighborhood burglar here...oh YUM!" Her mouth watered as the door swung open: the air was suddenly warm and heavy with the rich scent of simmering marinara.
"Hey, Soo. Laundry day again?" Haru didn't even look up from the onions he was chopping as she wrestled her bag inside and slammed the door shut with a sharp kick.
"Yeah, the stupid things still refuse to wash themselves, can you believe it?" Dropping her bag on the scuffed hardwood floor, she ducked around the kitchen island to rifle through his refrigerator. "I'm stealing a seltzer, OK? That leaves you only owing me for, hmmm, four thousand nine hundred and seventy-six beers. Not that I'm counting or anything, of course."
"Of course. It's not like the free use of my laundry equipment counts for anything." She could hear the predictable amusement in his voice; this was an old game between the two of them, one that even his snooty new girlfriend couldn't change.
"Hey, it's not my fault your place is sooooo much nicer than a laundromat. No waiting, no need for a pocket full of quarters, and no creeps trying to steal my underwear out of the dryer if I don't watch it like a hawk."
"Of course. I'm a perfect gentleman who only steals directly from your underwear drawer whenever I'm stuck petsitting your spoiled cat."
"So THAT'S where my Wonder Woman Underoos went! You bastard, you know they'll never fit you! And Kiyoshi is NOT spoiled, Mister Whines-if-I-don't-have-a-fridge-full-of-your-favorite-beer..." Soo considered punching him on the arm for emphasis, but thought better of it as she watched how close the flashing blade of the santoku was to Haru's long fingers.
"Mmmmm, keep telling yourself that. And the Underoos aren't for me, you know. I sell them to perverts on the internet -- how do you think I can afford all the laundry detergent you use?"
Soo chuckled as she took a quick swig of the refreshingly cool seltzer; the temperature shift from the biting wind outside to the warmth of the sunny loft felt like shifting between late autumn and early summer in the space of a heartbeat. She shrugged out of her heavy fleece jacket, tossing it on the kitchen table next to her half-empty drink. The tank top she was wearing underneath it was, admittedly, a bit thinner than she'd care to wear out on the street even in the dog days of summer...but this wasn't the street, this was nice, safe Haru's nice, safe apartment. They'd seen each other naked, after all, back when they'd briefly dated in college, before she'd thrown him over for that stupid boy with the motorcycle and the crappy rock band; and they'd seen each other in pajamas and undies and bathrobes and countless other permutations of half-dressed in the longer years of their friendship. Clingy sweatpants and a too-thin tank top, here, with him, wouldn't get her anything worse than friendly teasing about her utter lack of fashion sense. Especially not now, when he was so obviously giddy about HER.
Soo was happy for him, really. Haru truly was a nice guy, and he'd been tossed aside too many times by girls as stupid and short-sighted as she'd been herself. He deserved to be happy with someone after all these years, even if she WAS some sort of spoiled trust-fund princess who insisted on playing their relationship out as clandestinely as something out of a bad spy thriller. Haru was deliriously happy with her, after all, and that was all that mattered, right? She wanted her old friend to be happy.
And as she stood there in the familiar warmth of her best friend's loft, watching the little half-smile playing over his full lips, listening to him humming a jaunty tune as he chopped through piles of vegetables, she reminded herself yet again that she was most definitely NOT jealous of the new girl. Not in the slightest.
And her breath certainly didn't catch for a second when he looked at her and smiled that crooked little smile.
"Tell me what you think, Soo..."
I think you're too gorgeous to live, too nice to be human, and I am too damn stupid to live...oh, the sauce. Of course. She dabbed a finger at the proffered bamboo spoon and took a taste.
"Um...more basil?"
"Bah, why do I even bother to ask? You always want more basil." The smile never left his face despite the grumbling tone, and Soo found herself smiling in turn when she saw there was already another huge sprig of basil sitting on the cutting board.
"You know me sooooo well, darling, it's like we were made for each other! So...what's the occasion? Miss Thing in between personal chefs this week?"
"Nope...Azia's allergic to tomatoes. And I just finished off the last batch a week ago, so it was time to fill up the freezer again..."
"Sucks to be her! So...I suppose that means I'm getting some?" Soo pitched her voice low and mock-seductive. Pure mockery, of course, because they were just friends now, after all, and she wasn't jealous in the slightest, and the outrageously over-the-top flirting was just another of their old games. It had to be just a game because carrying a torch for her dear old friend just wouldn't be prudent, not in the slightest.
Haru laughed and threw a slice of bell pepper at her. "You know you can always count on getting some from me, you greedy girl!"
She caught the pepper and munched on it theatrically. "Yeah, well, can you blame a girl for getting tired of a steady diet of Little Friskies? It's OK, I know you only love me for my unused freezer space."
His laugh echoed behind her as she began dragging the heavy bag towards the laundry corner. "Hey, left to your own devices that freezer would hold nothing but ice cubes and cobwebs. As hard as you train, Soo, you really need to eat better. It's just not healthy. Keep that up and you'll wind up getting sick."
"Yes, mom. You can skip the lecture already, sheesh!" Soo pitched her voice a bit louder to carry across the open space of the loft as she sorted out her first load of laundry. "Can I help it if I can't boil water without burning it? Besides, I don't need to cook, that's what I have you for!"
"Female chauvinist pig! If you had your way you'd keep me in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant. Admit it!"
"I ADMIT NOTHING!" she screeched over her shoulder, and chuckled as she started the washer. As usual, he'd left a pile of clean folded clothes neatly stacked on the dryer: she shook her head as she grabbed them to make room for her own stuff. They'd be fine added to the other stack on the table next to the machines...
...well, maybe not: piled too high, the stack started to slide to the floor. Sparring reflexes kicked in; with a triumphant grin, she caught a half-dozen pairs of jeans before they hit the ground...and blinked as she felt her fingers close on something much colder and smoother than denim.
That CAN'T be leather...can it?
Tossing the jeans right back onto the dryer, she stared at the one garment left in her hands. It was leather, supple lambskin as black as ink and so luxuriantly soft just touching it felt somehow decadent. There was no size tag, just a discreet label she recognized from newspaper writeups as belonging to one of the finest, and most expensive, custom tailors in the city.
Maybe it's HERS? But as she shook the garment out, Soo somehow was not at all surprised to see the leather pants were unmistakably masculine in cut, and quite long enough to be a fit Haru's tall, athletic frame.
She was quite surprised, however, at the handcuffs that fell to the floor with a surprisingly heavy, metallic clank.
Haru was splashing a bit of wine into the stockpot when Soo finally returned to the kitchen. At the sound of her light footsteps, he once again began to speak without looking up from the stove. "Hey, good timing, I think it's almost finished...and if you say 'more basil' again I swear I'm going to SPANK you like the bad girl you are."
Soo licked her lips nervously; somehow, that old joke sounded very, very WRONG now in light of the items in her hands. Or very, very RIGHT...no, no, you are NOT going there. Bad Soo! Bad! Yes, you DO need to be punished...NO STOP IT! She coughed a bit, putting on her best mock-stern face before waving the handcuffs in front of him. "Spanking, you said? These seem more naughty-cop than naughty-schoolteacher, but maybe that's just me..."
"Um...those were a gag gift..." Soo would have laughed at the dark blush spreading over his face, if she weren't fighting so hard against the warmth she felt rising in her own cheeks.
"A gag gift? Yeah, right. I suppose there's a matching GAG to go with them too? They'd go soooo nicely with the black leather, after all... Fess up already, mister: who are you, and what have you done with Haru?" And what are you doing with...WHO are you doing...no no no don't go there!
"Um...those were a gift too. Azia, ah, she wanted me to have some nice clubwear. Especially since she ruined my favorite shirt and all..." Haru lowered his eyes to the saucepot and began intently stirring the marinara like his life depended on it.
"Mmmmhmmm. That shirt cost you two bucks at the thrift store, remember? I know this label, Haru, and THESE cost more than a month's rent on my place!"
"She has...expensive tastes, I guess."
"And she likes you anyway? Ha! I know the bitch has money to burn, but damn...did she even bother to check your size first? These look a little small..."
And I KNOW that you're not at all sma...NO NO NO BAD THOUGHTS SOO BAD THOUGHTS!
Haru looked up with a puzzled frown. "Huh? They fit pretty well, actually. I was kind of surprised, you know how much trouble I usually have finding clothes."
Yeah, you poor baby, there just aren't enough stores that use "Greek God" as a size category between "Slim Fit" and "Relaxed Cut". And I'm not visualizing how those fit you, I'm not I'm not...
"Oh yeah? Prove it."
Oh sweet lord did I just actually SAY THAT?
"What, you lost your Barbie dolls so I have to play dress-up for you now? Fine, whatever..." Sighing, he took the trousers and headed towards the bathroom.
Oh god oh god oh god. I DID say that. He's just ten feet away from me right now, taking off his pants and...NO NO NO STOP VISUALIZING SOO!
Soo choked down the last of the seltzer, hoping it might somehow cool the heat pooling low in her belly.
It didn't help.
Distraction distraction you have got to stop thinking about this about HIM about...
Glancing desperately about, her eyes lit on the open newspaper on the other side of the table.
Newspaper! Good old newspaper. Haru must have been doing his crossword. Good old boring crossword. Nothing sexy there. Please don't let him have finished it...
Soo jerked the paper towards her so sharply the pencil nearly went flying off the table; a desperate lunge, and she caught it, barely. Only a few clues had been filled in; she nearly wept in relief at the sight of all the blank space.
There you go, girl... Just focus on the nice, boring crossword. Don't think about why he's taking so long. Fill in all the stupid little squares...crap. I'm no good at these. That's OK, though. I can talk to him about the crossword. Not the leather pants. Not whatever he does in the OH GOD, FOCUS ON THE CROSSWORD...
"Hey, Haru! I'm stuck on your stupid crossword, can you help a girl out?" Her voice sounded strangely breathy and she prayed it wasn't as blatantly noticeable as it seemed to her own ears.
Oh yes I KNOW you could REALLY help a girl out, I remember...NO NO THE CROSSWORD. FOCUS, DAMMIT!
"Yeah, what's the clue?" His voice was only slightly muffled by the bathroom door between them.
Oh crap. Pick a clue, any clue, it doesn't matter just say SOMETHING!
Soo started reading off the first thing her eyes managed to focus on."Um...six-letter word, 'beautiful youth beloved of Aphrodite' -- you know I'm no good at that mythology crap. First letter is...ohhh..." Soo's voice trailed off into what she prayed didn't sound too much like the stifled moan it was; she'd looked up, purely out of habit, at the sound of the doorknob, and saw...
LORD HAVE MERCY. PLEASE. I'm DYING here...
"First letter O -- are you sure that's right, Soo? If you missed a clue somewhere 'Adonis' would seem like the obvious answer..." He was frowning a bit in thought, running one hand through his long auburn hair, and the pants...
DON'T STARE. DON'T STARE...
The pencil lead snapped as she ground it against the table. Haru was standing across from her in the bathroom doorway, leather gleaming like wet paint stroked over his skin. Soo's pulse roared in her ears. They fit. Oh yes, they fit very well indeed. They fit so well they should be illegal. Quit staring at him..he's saying something. Stop staring, you have to pretend to listen to the mouth flappy noises, Soo...
"I dunno...they fit and all and they're really surprisingly comfortable..." Soo swallowed hard as he smoothed the leather over his muscular thighs, trying desperately not to imagine putting her hands in place of his own, trying even harder to keep her gaze from straying just a little bit higher. "...but I just feel a little silly, somehow. I'm not used to stuff with such a low waistband...hell, do you even call it a waistband when it doesn't even go as high as the waist, or what?" He hitched his thumbs into said waistband for emphasis. Soo couldn't help but follow the motion with her eyes; couldn't help but notice that his t-shirt, a bit too small over his broad shoulders like so many of his thrift-store finds, had started to ride up, leaving a teasing glimpse of bare, tan skin above that indecently low waistband. She couldn't stop herself from staring at the faint line of dark hair trailing down from his navel, so neatly framed between his large hands. And then she couldn't keep her eyes from drifting down just a little further.
I'm going to hell. There's no doubt about it. I am SO going to hell.
"But hey, what do I know about fashion, right? You read all those stupid magazines, Soo, is stuff like this the in thing right now?" He was walking past her now, walking back towards the stove, and she was hopelessly mesmerized at the way the leather gleamed in the warm afternoon light.
"Mostly, I just wish it had pockets. But Azia laughed at me and said something about how pockets would spoil the line." He leaned over the kitchen island to stir the sauce again, and Soo thought her heart was going to stop for sure if he bent over any further.
Miss Thing is a genius. Pockets would just RUIN that view. OH GOD. Stop staring at his butt, Soo! He's turning around again! Look at his face!
"What, you can't even snark at it? Geeze, I must look even stupider than I thought. Good thing it's just the two of us here, eh? But hey, you wanted me to try them on, happy now, you slavedriver?" He laughed, and lifted the spoon to his lips. OH GOD his TONGUE... Maybe looking down is safer after all...
And as she tried not to watch his tongue darting out to lick at the dripping spoon, tried to focus on the words that smiling mouth was shaping -- some meaningless gibberish about how this practically tasted more like pesto than marinara so maybe she'd finally be SATISFIED now -- Soo realized that the leather wasn't quite black after all. It was green, a green so dark it looked black unless the light hit it JUST right, like it did right THERE where she most definitely was NOT going to look again, the perfect delicious green of bruised basil leaves...
"So...ready for a taste yet?"
Soo nearly knocked the chair over in her effort to flee the table. Oh, she knew he was only talking about that damned sauce, she'd practically knocked the spoon out of his hand as she clutched her jacket to her chest and raced past him towards the safety of the laundry corner. But she also knew that if she lingered there for as much as another SECOND he'd surely know what she was thinking of tasting, and it damn well wasn't any stupid marinara, no matter how much basil he put into it.
She leaned hard against the washer and tried to calm her breathing. I have to get out. I have to get out before he realizes what he's doing to me. I have to get out before I do something to MAKE him realize. She grabbed the empty duffel off the floor and began shoveling damp clothes into it pell-mell. I'll just hit a laundromat on the way home and...
Something white sailed over her shoulder to land on the washing machine with a damp thud, and a familiar deep voice spoke from somewhere far, far too close to her ear. "Mind if I join you here? I don't want to ruin another shirt..."
Oh no. That wasn't...he isn't..don't turn around...
She turned around anyway, twitching hands sending a box of dryer sheets flying. He was standing there, as she knew he would be, close enough to touch, and shirtless.
No, that's not it, Soo. Shirtless sounds so SAFE. This is nothing like safe. This is your best pal, who has a girlfriend and she's NOT YOU, half-naked. All those perfect muscles and perfect skin and half-naked except for leather pants that might as well be a second skin for all they leave to the imagination. And I have a very, very good imagination and there's nowhere left that's safe to look...
"Geeze, Soo, I've never seen you so clumsy. Are you feeling OK? Here, let me pick that up for you..."
"Fine! I'm fine! Never better! I just heard the dryer and didn't want my stuff to get wrinkled from sitting too long..." She gestured expansively at the jumbled mess of clothes, felt her shirt tug a bit tighter and suddenly remembered all too well that she wasn't even wearing a bra. She blushed suddenly and fumbled her jacket on, grateful he was too busy retrieving the fabric softener to notice just how very, very thin her tank top really was.
Of course, this left her with little choice in turn but to notice just how well those pants fit as he bent over.
Haru blinked at her as he put the box back on the dryer. "Isn't it a little hot in here to be wearing that jacket?"
Hot? You just have NO IDEA, do you?
"I, ah, felt chilled. A sudden chill. Good thing I had my jacket!"Soo clutched at the zipper and wondered if the fleece could possibly be thick enough to hide under.
He frowned at her, an adorably pouty little frown that she wanted to lick right off his face. "That doesn't sound good, Soo. You're looking really flushed, too...I told you you'd get sick if you didn't take care of yourself!"
He's going to check and see if you're feverish next. And he's even better than naked and so close and YOU HAVE TO RUN NOW, SOO, RUN. IT'S YOUR ONLY CHANCE!
And run she did, with babbled explanations of neglected irons and fear of fire and lack of insurance, and promises to retrieve her laundry later.
Much, much later. Like maybe when I'm sixty. Perhaps I'll have managed to stop blushing by then...
Haru's frown deepened as Soo slammed the door shut behind her. She just wasn't acting like herself today for some reason, and he was almost positive that she didn't even OWN an iron. The strange behavior, the sudden flushing, the lack of appetite from a girl who never, ever turned down free food...it must be a fever. It was the only explanation that made sense.
And somehow, deep down, Haru was convinced it was all really his fault.
They'd been friends for long enough that he knew all too well that the girl couldn't even microwave a TV dinner without needing to call out the fire squad. As far as Haru could tell, whenever he wasn't sharing his cooking or dragging her to restaurants, she mostly lived on street vendor hot dogs, delivery pizza and air. And they just hadn't been having as many dinners together as usual, ever since this thing with Azia had started.
You KNOW she doesn't take care of herself like she should, and you neglected her anyway, and now she's sick. Some friend you are!
Shaking his head, Haru turned back to her forgotten laundry. His conscience was stinging him now and there was clearly only one way to quiet it; he'd take some food over as soon as her laundry was done, and make sure she was going to be OK. Some juice, some soup, a movie or two...it'll be fun, just like old times. Well, almost. I don't have to pretend I never stopped crushing on her now. That'll be nice. Thanks to Azia, we can finally REALLY just be friends, and I don't have to feel like such a pathetic liar any more...
He had to laugh a bit when the first thing he pulled from the crumpled pile in the dryer was a pair of Soo's panties -- pale green cotton printed with little cartoon goldfish. They looked so tiny against his large hands, and the comical design was so very, very Soo that he couldn't help but smile. Azia would never be caught dead in something like this; no, her underwear...when she bothered to wear any, at least...was all dark and sheer, silk and lace g-strings from pricey little import boutiques. It was gorgeous, sexy stuff and it looked amazingly hot on her, and if he ever found his mind wandering towards wistful memories of Hello Kitty briefs, well, that was surely just force of habit and he'd get over it one of these days. Soo was his best friend, and he'd stop remembering the days when they were more than that, stop thinking about her THAT way, sooner or later.
But why were her panties so DAMP? He blushed a bit until he realized that EVERYTHING in the dryer was just as clammy, and the timer dial showed thirty minutes left to go. Well, that explains why nothing's dry...and why I never heard the buzzer. Was Soo hearing things? Maybe this is way past chicken soup, and I should just drag that girl to see a doctor once her laundry is done...
"LOOOOOOOOOOCY, I'M HOOOOOOOOOOME!" Haru called out as he swung open the door to Soo's tiny apartment. "Oh, hi, Kiyoshi. Don't trip me, cat, I've got my hands full here." He dropped the bag of laundry -- clean, folded, DRY laundry -- on the floor and bustled about the kitchen, not waiting for a reply; he could hear the running shower from in here, and knowing what an echo chamber that cramped bathroom was, she probably didn't hear a thing when he came in. Ah well, the better to surprise you with, my dear. I just hope she forgot her bathrobe...no, no, I hope she DIDN'T forget her bathrobe. That would be bad. Very, very bad.
He nearly dropped the bottle of fresh orange juice on Kiyoshi's head when he finally heard her voice, the low, pained moan carrying over the sound of the rushing water. Oh god, no! Did she pass out from the fever and hurt herself? His stomach lurched at the thought of Soo bleeding to death helplessly while he fussed with those stupid groceries just a few feet away. Haru dashed towards the bathroom door, nearly tripping on the protesting cat in his haste; the groans seemed louder and more hopeless, and he almost thought he heard her calling his name as he began rattling the doorknob. Locked. DAMMIT! I'll have to kick it in. It's all my fault, DAMMIT. Please hold on, Soo, I'm coming...
Oh, Haru...yessssss...that was sooooo good...
Legs still shaking from the aftershocks, Soo stretched lazily under the hot water...only to freeze in horror at the sound of heavy pounding on the door. "SOO! Are you hurt? Oh god, talk to me, girl, please tell me you're OK..."
She shut off the taps with a frightened gasp, wishing she could somehow vanish right down the drain with the last of the water.
"I'm fine, Haru! Fine! Never better!" Her voice came out low and throaty in spite of herself, and Soo wondered if it were truly possible to die from embarrassment, and if so, what she had to do to make it happen RIGHT NOW.
Oh god, he HEARD me. He must know what I was doing...please, lord, kill me now and I swear I will never have another impure thought again as long as I live...
"SOO! THANK GOD...I heard groaning and thought you might have passed out in there or something! Are you sure you don't need any help?" The doorknob rattled once more and Soo cringed.
"I'm FINE, Haru! I just...dropped a bottle on my toe. And it hurt. But I'm fine. Don't worry about me, I can take care of myself!"
"Sure you can, Soo, sure you can. Do NOT scare me like that again, DAMMIT, I was ready to bust down the door! So, are you done? I brought some goodies for you..."
Get your mind out of the gutter, girl! That's what put you in this fix in the first place...
She staggered out of the tub and shrugged on her bathrobe, mouthing a silent prayer of thanks that she'd grabbed the heavy terrycloth one with a childish design of rabbits on the pockets, not the silk one that went clingy and nearly transparent when damp. "Um, yeah, I'm...done...in here." She opened the door and found herself wobbling on the threshold from the effort of not letting momentum push her against his solid chest. Frowning, he reached out to steady her with a hand on her shoulders.
"DAMMIT, Soo, you're the worst liar I've ever met."
Oh god he DOES know. Just one little lightning bolt? Please? Is that so much to ask?
His green eyes narrowed with concern. "Just look at you. You're flushed and you can barely even stand up straight. I knew you were sick!" Haru pressed his other hand against her face, frown deepening; Soo shut her eyes and bit her tongue to stifle the moan that rose to her lips. "And you're burning up, too. How long have you had this fever, DAMMIT?"
Longer than you'll ever know, boy... "It's, um, not a fever. The shower was just really hot. You know I like hot showers."
"Sure it's not." Shaking his head, he pulled her close and steered her to the couch. "Now just lie down like a good girl and let me take care of you, OK?" Oh god, if only...
Soo shut her eyes and tried to drive away the mental images she'd been relishing just a few minutes earlier. It didn't seem to be working. A sudden weight landed on her chest and she almost whimpered until she realized it was just a heavy blanket: Haru was tucking her in. He touched her forehead again and Soo gritted her teeth with the effort of not letting herself lean into his hand.
"DAMMIT, Soo, I swear you've gotten worse in the time it took me to get this blanket. Even your breathing sounds funny. Maybe we should just go to the ER instead..."
"I'm FINE! Fine, I tell you! Don't bother. I just need rest. And maybe some food. So what did you bring me?"
"Oh, all sorts of good stuff! I've got some fresh OJ, some matzo ball soup from Felsen's Deli, a box of Ring-Dings...and movies, of course, laughter's the best medicine and all that jazz."
"Movies would be nice..." Yes. Distraction. Thank you, if I can't just curl up and die I will settle for distraction..
"You're in luck, you'll never guess what I found! "Minnâ-yatteruka!" That's, um, "Getting Some?". Beat Takeshi comedy, from back before he decided to go all serious and artsy and stuff..." Haru knelt down in front of her to set up the VCR; Soo noted with a faint sigh that he'd changed back into jeans and a fresh t-shirt. Although those jeans are so old and snug and broken-in they don't look half-bad either...and that shirt must be older than I am, I swear, could it get any thinner? Or...clingier...oh no please don't start again. MOVIE. FOCUS ON THE MOVIE.
Soo coughed a bit, earning another worried frown from Haru, as she struggled to control her voice. "So...um...comedy. Comedy is good. What's this about?" She stared at the opening credits, trying to focus on the subtitles instead of the rustling noises of Haru puttering in the kitchen.
He gave a low, knowing chuckle that made her toes curl. "Oh, you'll LOVE it Soo, it's totally random and stupid. There's this total loser who is obsessed with having sex in a car, and he comes up with increasingly bizarre plans to try to get laid. They NEVER work, of course..."
Oh, PERFECT.
Soo stared blankly at the action on the tiny screen, wondering if the torture was ever, ever going to stop. Even the occasional nonsensical subtitle couldn't seem to distract her for more than a minute, although she managed a mirthless chuckle at a caption in an airplane scene. "Ladies and Gentlemen..."
"...welcome aboard Instant Hell Airlines!" Haru chimed in from the kitchen, laughing heartily. "Isn't this great, Soo, I swear it's like the Two Beats meet Monty Python or something! I'm kind of surprised you're not laughing more, though, it really seemed like your kind of thing..."
And then, to Soo's utter horror, he was back, setting a huge glass of juice and a steaming bowl of soup onto the coffee table before sitting beside her on the couch and -- oh god, no, please... -- pulling her close enough to cradle against his chest. His broad, warm chest. "Oh, Soo, just look at you... You really are feeling miserable, aren't you? Don't worry. I'm here now hon, there's nothing to worry about, just let Haru take care of you, OK?" His soothing voice rumbled low in his chest, and as he gently stroked her hair Soo suddenly realized why her prayers for a merciful, swift death had all gone unanswered.
She was already dead. And no matter what the classics said, Hell wasn't made of fire nor of ice.
Hell was a low voice, warm hands, and the lingering aroma of basil and expensive leather.