I was supposed to upload this a week ago. Oh well, better late than never: now it's a belated birthday present for Miku!
Many thanks to RyuNoMe24 and Kokodoru for the beta-reading!
Valentine's day, five o'clock: only a short hour before the dinner rush would start. Every table had been booked. All available hands were on deck. Miku, hired as busser only a short month prior, just barely used to working the usual weekend evenings, had been placed at the bar for the first time. She had greeted Rin, a friendly young woman she had worked with before. Rin was quick, efficient, yet managed to stay kind and friendly. Miku had hoped the blonde would be the one helping her get acquainted with the bar that evening.
Sadly, she was not going to be the one coaching Miku.
Instead, in the bustling room where she could already taste the employee's tense anticipation of getting absolutely slammed, she was greeted by another coworker who she hadn't seen in almost a month.
"Hey, thanks for coming in."
Miku knew her name was Luka. Everybody knew Luka. Luka knew the restaurant inside and out, could work at any station at the drop of a dime, had been doing this for a long time, and had clearly found her life's calling when she had first come to the restaurant. It didn't matter what kind of dreams or aspirations she once had; right there, in that repurposed cellar, where hot crêpes were made on demand, Luka was completely in her element. She moved quickly because she could, with razor-sharp precision and unshakeable confidence. She never buckled under pressure. She never dropped anything. She never forgot a single thing. One day, she would manage her own restaurant. She would do amazingly well.
All this was obvious just by looking at her. The whole story was told by a single breath, the way her fingers curled around the handle of the coffee machine, the way she opened bottles, poured beer.
Another thing that was obvious, even to Miku, was that she was absolute butch perfection.
All of this made her extremely intimidating. She had been intimidating enough on Miku's first day, where she showed the tealette the very basics of bussing. That day had been a quiet one, but Miku could barely remember a single detail; the sheer anxiety of being there, of being somewhere new with new people and needing to compute new information had been so much. All she really knew happened that day was that a sapphic goddess had shown her how to wash the dishes and miraculously, some of that information had stuck.
And, that evening, Valentine's day, where Miku was once again forced into a new element with new machines and new systems and new rules and new details to remember, she was once again forced to learn in the presence of the most intimidating person she had ever met in her life.
"It's ok," she stuttered out. No, she had meant 'no problem'. 'Happy to help' would have worked too. Anything. Not that. Too late now.
Luka merely chuckled. Her voice was low and husky and radiated warm comfort. "First time at the bar, Meiko told me?"
They didn't always speak in full sentences. It was important to communicate quickly and save time. Miku appreciated them cutting out the excess, but couldn't always parse the information that did come across. This, she could understand. "Yes."
"Alright, here's something you might be a little more familiar with." Luka squeezed past her so she could get to the other side of the bar.
The bar was not spacious by any means. The wall was hidden by planks covered by a large variety of glassware. Under them was also a small counter with so many bottles Miku could barely even see them individually. The bar itself also had meager counter space, with a huge coffee machine, coffee bean grinder, two beer taps but Miku didn't know what they were really called, a small sink, coffee, and teacups... Between the wall and the counter with the coffee machine was maybe a meter of space, at most.
It was claustrophobic and Miku didn't like it. But she didn't have time to not like it. Luka showed her the washing machine which was against an adjacent wall. This one, unlike the big one in the kitchen, needed the push of a button to activate. It was front opening. The little racks they placed inside were more flimsy. Miku didn't like it.
Luka then showed her how the glass against the wall was organized. Then there were the syrup bottles, the cups for children, and oh my God there was also the tea section which Miku had somehow not seen, sorted alphabetically, along with teapots which came in a variety of sizes. In the counter against the wall were the backup drinks. Those were not refrigerated. They were the backup. They would be placed in the fridge when space would be freed. Bottles of Coca-cola and Orangina and Fanta and many many other brands.
The bar counter did contain fridges. Each small unit had a shitty door or a shitty drawer but Luka was so used to them she harmonized with their flaws to perfection. Each fridge needed exactly four of each kind of drink so that there was always a cold supply to serve. In the biggest fridges, they kept the homemade lemonade and ice tea, which were always highest in demand.
By the time they had gotten that far, it was ten past five. They had barely gotten started.
Then there was how to serve coffee: take the handle thing, place it under the grinder, wait for a dose of freshly ground beans to fill it, place it in the machine, remember to tug properly, push this button for espresso, this one for double, this one for regular coffee. And here was the sugar and there was the cream and here were the spoons and now here's an order for three coffees, let's get some practice in!
Miku took a deep breath and did as shown. Luka took the time to complete the rest of the order, printed black on white on a small ticket which seemed to occupy way, way too much counter space. Each square centimeter counted and each one wasted made Miku want to make everyone just stop so she could clean it up. But it wasn't her space, she had to tell herself. It wasn't hers and she had more important things to do.
Miku's hands shook. There were so many details to remember. So many things to keep track of. Everything was moving. She didn't tug the handle into place properly. And she almost dropped it when she removed it again because they needed fresh grounds between drinks too and the old grounds needed to be thrown away right there, in the drawer next to the whipped cream. And then she needed to do it all again.
"Alright, good job. I'll get those out. If a new order prints, make what you can, place each on a new tray with the ticket."
Her orders, Miku obeyed.
Fortunately, it was still quiet. Relatively speaking, of course. From the bar, Miku could see three-quarters of the room. Half of it was down two steps, and that lower section was partly obscured by some furniture. Maybe 40% of tables were taken, maybe a little less. She was better at guessing how busy the place was by listening to the printer in the kitchen or by seeing how tall the piles of plates were as they came back in.
She didn't like this vantage point much. She didn't like seeing the customers. She was still getting used to bringing them their orders and taking away their plates. Being there on display in front of them made her uneasy. She bit the inside of her cheek, stared at the bright red light of the coffee machine when she realized that there was nothing more she could do, at least for now.
A ticket printed; the machine screeched as it ejected a small sheet with a tiny list of drinks. Still, Miku took forever remembering which glasses were the three deciliters, where exactly the ice tea was, oh no that was the drawer with the old coffee grounds...
"You holding up?" Luka asked, appearing out of thin air. The oversized button-up shirt she wore, a light canvas material with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, completely unbuttoned, billowed around her like a cape. Miku couldn't fathom how it didn't get in her way. She didn't have time to think about it.
"Still getting my bearings," she confessed, reading the ticket again for the next drink.
Luka watched her work for a second, welcoming new customers as they came in. Just as Miku was going to grab another glass for another drink, Luka placed a hand on the tealette's shoulder to stop her and grabbed the ticket.
"See, this is what I do," she said, pointing at the beginning of each line. "I give it a good read first and see how many I need of each glass before I even start with the drinks themselves."
Ah, a trick! Miku immediately stored it for safekeeping; this one would help a lot. "Right, thanks."
But another ticket had been printed, and Luka was already busy preparing it.
"If you can finish any of them," she said while she grabbed the glasses almost blindly from the wall. "Just place them on a tray with the ticket. You're here to just prepare the drinks while Rin and I run around taking orders."
A relief. "Understood."
"We really appreciate the extra hand," Luka continued, the order already complete. "Everybody else had plans for the evening."
And then she was gone again. Miku struggled to remember all the small details, but practice made perfect, and the more she tried and the more feedback she got the better she became. She stopped forgetting to add a little cup of cream with each order of coffee, saved time by getting glasses first, pouring second.
When Luka was around, she added new information to the pile; each teapot needed a small dish under it; the empty plastic bottles needed to be kept there; the empty glass bottles needed to go to the washing machine, unless they contained ice tea or lemonade in which case keep them there so we don't forget to bring them to the kitchen; this is how you pour beer from the tap, hold the glass like this, if there isn't enough foam you can pull on the handle, but briefly!
It never stopped. With each new nugget of knowledge added, a minute passed, another table came in, another ticket printed, and Luka somehow managed to be everywhere at the same time. Rin stopped by often as well, not able to spare the time to chat much. Most often, she came to pick up a tray. She barely needed to look at the ticket to know what was there, which table it needed to go to. Sometimes, she came in with some crêpes which needed added whipped cream.
When the blonde did that, it reminded her with a pang that the kitchen, which she had grown so familiar to, was just down the hall. She missed knowing where everything was, the constant hum of the huge washing machine, how the noise of the crowd was reduced to only a faraway buzz. She missed when her visits to the bar were limited to when she was the one who needed to add the whipped cream. She missed her space.
"Keep it up," Rin said encouragingly before she disappeared again.
There never was much time to thank them. There was plenty of time to practice though, so Miku put her head down and did her best.
There were always more questions: do these bottles go in the recycling; what if the backup runs out; where do I find the ice. Customers sometimes spoke to her, and when they were asking for the bathroom, that was no issue. But Miku didn't have the authority, the wisdom, or even the tools to take orders, so she frequently had to tell them to wait for a coworker to come by. People would ask about reservations, forcing her to struggle with the book, or about free tables, of which there were absolutely none.
Six o'clock meant the official start of the dinner shift. That evening's busser strolled in, greeted her, and Miku envied the man. His work wouldn't be fun, of course. Between the hot water, sharp knives, the incessant need for clean dishes, the never-ending orders that needed to be brought out, the salads and ice creams that needed preparing, he was in for a few very long hours. But Miku wanted those hours.
The tealette juggled her new tasks as well as she could. She got to busy herself with pouring beer, serving coffee, washing the glasses, bringing bottles to the back, and making sure the counter stayed clean. Once things got a little bit easier, she could get a little bit faster, a tiny bit more efficient, and sometimes, just sometimes, she had a second to breathe.
Rin and Luka were everywhere. The blonde's bow could be seen immediately, bobbing to and fro through the ever more crowded space. She was smiling non-stop, always patient, understanding, and helpful. She was a delight to work with, and Miku mused that the only reason she was there to begin with was because her brother was too, making the crêpes. If either of them had a significant other to celebrate with that day, they must have postponed spending time with them out of fairness for their sibling. Or both were single, but Miku doubted that.
Luka, however, could be found by the sheer power of her aura. Miku wasn't thinking about some mystical, pseudoscience kind of aura, or even the scientific ones. Luka radiated confidence, ever-present calm. Unlike Rin, she never needed to look at the menu over customers' shoulders, she didn't even need to think. Her orders were typed into their little handheld machines so quickly, it was like she was born with the thing in her hand. She balanced four plates effortlessly.
She was magnificent. Tall, somewhat lanky, hair flowing freely behind her, she was impossible to miss. The tank top she wore under the button-up shirt hugged all her curves, her abused jeans hid them, sitting snug only at her hips.
Miku bit her cheek; she knew she had a crush. It was probably obvious, too. But anybody could have a crush on Luka. Men would admire her feminine grace and beauty, while women could fawn over the masculine demeanor and confidence.
She was the best of both worlds.
"You're doing good so far," she said while the tealette was struggling to pour beers fast enough so the others wouldn't lose all their foam.
"Thanks."
"Ready for the real rush?"
Miku set the drinks on a tray, saw out of the corner of her eye that the taller woman was tying up her hair.
"Oh no, you're tying up your hair."
Luka chuckled. Her smile was perfectly dosed, just wide enough to be sincere, to show a glimpse of her teeth. "Yeah?"
"That means it's going to get serious."
"Oh yeah."
"Oh no, I'm not ready."
Luka laughed, the sound also perfect. With her hair tied up, Miku spotted a couple of piercings in her ear, silver rings at the top.
"You'll do fine. Just keep it up, we're here for questions."
She grabbed the tray and was gone once again.
By the time seven o'clock rolled by, Miku hadn't dropped anything yet, didn't have a huge pile of glasses waiting to be washed, and didn't have a long list of orders to complete.
She was always just slightly behind, though. Rin and Luka often had to help make orders, dotted with small reminders about the plate under the teapot, the size of the espresso cup. She couldn't ever clear all the glassware, somehow more just kept on coming.
As the room filled up, it got hotter and hotter. The open doors at both ends of the restaurant did nothing. Miku felt sweat pearl on her forehead, roll down her neck, gather at the small of her back. She was free to serve herself anything, yet she could never seem to find the time to do so. Rin's bow also lost its bounce, her smile grew a bit tired, and even Luka took more deep breaths when she finally stopped walking around. She didn't shed the oversized shirt, but Miku could see her skin grow slick, the tattoos on her forearms glimmering in the light.
Eight o'clock was peak rush time, and Miku couldn't spot a single empty seat, had she the luxury of time to look in the first place. She was assigned to do more washing duties, to make sure there were always enough clean glasses available. While Rin prioritized taking orders, and the busser made more time to serve the crêpes, Luka could busy herself with the preparation of drinks. The tealette kept an ear out, ready to catch the rapid-fire requests for beer or coffee, the nearest to the washing machine. By then, there wasn't time to exchange full sentences. There wasn't even time to make eye contact, or even to say thanks.
Time sure flew by though, and by nine, it finally started calming down. They could take some walk-in tables, reminding guests that the kitchen closed at ten and not a second later. By nine-thirty, Miku had finished with the backlog of dirty glassware and could resume making everything while the two others darted across the room. At nine forty-five, when the tealette had wiped down the counter with no tickets waiting, no trays ready to go out, and all she had to do was stare, Luka stepped up to her.
Somehow, even exhausted and somewhat grimy, she was still the picture of perfection.
"You did great," she spoke between gulps of cold water. "Couldn't have done it without you."
"If you say so."
The taller woman laughed at that. "I say so!" She put down the glass and stretched, the tank top riding up but catching on the belt of her jeans. "It's almost ten, so I think you're done for the night."
"You're sure?"
"Yeah. I'm on closing shift today, so I'll be sending Rin home in fifteen minutes too. Get some rest, you earned it."
"Alright."
After finishing her own glass of lemonade, Miku made her way downstairs to the basement.
It was quiet, there. The hum of the restaurant continued on above, distant. She could vaguely hear the bell as yet more people walked in. But if Luka said that she could go home, then so be it.
She wrote down her hours, checked her tip drawer, pocketed the loose change she found within, shrugged on her jacket, and made her way back upstairs. Before heading for the door, she waved goodbye to Len, the cook, and the nameless busser, while they continued to toil. They wished her a good night, all smiles and friendly despite the late hour, the fatigue.
As Miku passed by the bar, Rin thanked her as well for the help. Luka was out there, dealing with more people, so the tealette opted to simply leave.
It was cold outside. It was even quieter than in the basement. Miku finally had the time to breathe.
She inhaled deeply, and exhaled, breathing out the jitters that had been assaulting her non-stop, breathing out the questions she hadn't known the answers to, the countless little mistakes she had made, the blunt feedback she had received during the whole evening.
At least Luka had been really nice. She was intimidating, but she was kind. Miku smiled to herself at the thought, happy to have such patient coworkers.
She hoped to work with her more in the future, but knowing their shifts, it was unlikely. And although Luka was definitely there to stay, Miku had no idea how long she would continue to work there.
She probably should have said goodbye.
Rin was sick that evening. Luka had been called in to replace her. That was the first evening that they worked together since Valentine's day, and Miku had barely gotten the chance to see her.
It had been a relatively quiet Saturday night, all things considered. Miku had managed to finish all her closing duties early, but the very last-minute guests that had walked in and ordered right before the kitchen closed had slowed things down considerably for both Luka and Len. By the time Miku had every surface polished, the machine emptied, cleaned and reassembled, floor swept and mopped, trash taken out, windows closed, signs taken back inside, and so on, Len was only then getting to mopping his half of the kitchen. Luka had put the last remaining dishes in the machine rack so that they would be cleaned the following morning and had disappeared downstairs so she could finish her evening's tasks. Miku followed, taking along with her all the dirty and damp towels and rags that they had used throughout the day.
The basement was an odd space. Between the walk-in fridge and the cooler where they kept the beer, was a small desk littered with binders. On the desk, against the wall, sat a small rack system that held tiny labeled drawers, one for each employee. Above all that was a set of safes; two small ones were screwed into the wall, while a much larger one was built right into it. The other walls were lined with bare-bones shelving units with obscene amounts of coffee, maple syrup, nuts, jams of all kinds, cartons of wine, and more. There was even more food in the fridge: fruit and eggs and the backup batter for the crêpes. Next to the stairs sat the coat hangers and some spare shoes for the cooks, the clean towels and rags, and huge bags for the dry, but dirty laundry to bring to the cleaners'. Miku assumed that was a monthly or morning task; she had never emptied them herself. She was going for the last piece of furniture in the room, which sat against the tiny bit of bare wall between the stairs and the walk-in fridge: a tall drying rack. It was already covered in dozens of rags and towels, most of them from that morning, so Miku plopped down the pile she was carrying and busied herself with removing the dry ones. At the desk, Luka emptied the huge pouch of change, the coins clattering over the hard surface.
While Miku took care of the dry towels and stuffed them into the bag, Luka silently counted to herself. The tealette could hear the sound of coins sliding over the surface, tried to picture how fast they were going. The woman was doing whatever she was doing so absurdly quickly Miku couldn't even imagine how it would look. She bit the inside of her cheek and focused on the task at hand.
Just as she returned to the rack to hang the damp stuff, Len hurried down the stairs.
"We're done?"
"Yep," Luka muttered, counting under her breath. "All done."
The young man saw Miku peel one damp towel from the mass and rushed forward. "Let me help."
"Are you in a hurry?" she asked him.
"Kind of, I need to catch a bus."
Rin was probably waiting for him. "Go, I'll take care of this."
He flashed her a million-dollar smile and grabbed his jacket. "Thanks! Good night, gals!"
"Bye."
"Night! Send Rin our best," Luka called, eyes never leaving the desk.
"Yep!"
He dashed back out, leaving the tealette to deal with the heap of towels.
Truly, she didn't mind. She wanted to wait for Luka to finish counting and to distribute the tips so she could take her share home. She didn't live far away either, a stone toss really, so another ten minutes hanging towels was barely an issue.
She didn't know how to behave with Luka around, though. Without the rush keeping them busy and apart, without so much work waiting for them, the air felt stagnant and Miku wondered if she was expecting her to start a conversation. Maybe not, since she was counting. But they didn't work together often, wasn't it normal to get to know each other now that they had the time, ask the basic questions? Maybe Luka wasn't in the right mood though, or maybe she really was too busy counting. Maybe it was best to just get the evening over with.
Miku didn't know and couldn't decide so she decided to say nothing, biting her cheek to stay quiet. She hung the towels slowly enough to keep busy for as long as Luka was, but fast enough so it wasn't obvious she was stalling.
"What time did you finish?" Luka asked.
"Ten thirty."
A click of the tongue. "Right on time. Nice."
Miku mumbled a 'nice' under her breath. Her shift was allowed to stretch until eleven, at the latest. If they had been absolutely slammed or something terrible happened, it was reasonable to work later. If it had been dead in the restaurant, then it was expected of them to finish sooner. They were paid hourly, so some give and take was expected. But Meiko trusted them to use common sense and to not work until midnight if only two souls had walked in.
The tealette finished hanging the towels and stood idly by while Luka punched numbers into a calculator. She watched as she recounted, using a single finger to push coins, one by one, from one side to the other, before pushing them all into an envelope, scribbling something on the front, and placing it into one of the small safes. Miku averted her eyes, staring at the lamp in the stairs instead when she punched in the code; it felt like the proper thing to do.
"You can go home too, you know," Luka said. "Just finishing up with the finances."
"O-oh, no, it's ok. I was just waiting for the tip money."
The safe was closed, Luka turned to her with a grin. "Oh yeah? Big plans for it?"
"Not really. I just don't like leaving it."
She didn't know how the others did it. Some of the drawers were filled with coins and bills.
"Fair enough. You'll have to wait a bit though."
"That's fine."
Luka started counting bills, then coins, and returned them into the pouch, which went into the other small safe.
"I don't know how you do all that," Miku muttered, her eyes averted again.
A chuckle. "Do what?"
"All that. Count like that. I wouldn't be able to."
"It's easy," Luka explained, taking one of the sheets from the binder. It was the one which said who worked that day, for how long, along with the total number of work hours. "First you figure out how much you sold. All the credit card stuff goes in that binder, while I make sure that there's enough cash to add up to the total."
While she spoke, Miku saw her add her own name in the 'waitressing' slot, Len in 'cook' and Miku in 'bussing'. She added their hours too, totaled them, and turned her attention back to the coins. She was right-handed and had a small braided leather bracelet on that evening.
"Then, with all the remaining cash, I make sure there's enough change for tomorrow, which I just squared away. Everything left? That's our tip money."
With that, she started counting one final time.
"Right," Miku muttered, watching how the coins slid across the surface, faster than she could even see. When Luka was done, she explained, "Even if you were to explain it to me a thousand times, I wouldn't be able to cope with the pressure."
"The pressure?"
"Managing the money for the whole evening. I'd be so scared to mess up."
"Everybody messes up sometimes," Luka said easily, punching some numbers into the calculator. "It happens."
"I know. I guess I prefer to face the mistakes I make washing dishes than dealing with everybody's money, though."
"Fair point," Luka said with a laugh. "You worked three and a half hours today?"
Seven to ten-thirty. "Yes."
"So, that's fifteen bucks for you," Luka said, finding and removing the drawer with Miku's name on it, sliding a stack of coins in, and returning the drawer with one graceful movement.
"Alright."
Luka paused, removed the drawer from the rack. "I forgot, this is what you're waiting for, right?"
Miku nodded, held out her hands, and let the woman dump the coins in. Another graceful movement.
"Thank you."
"So how come you were free on Valentine's day?" Luka asked, returning the drawer to its place.
"I had nothing else to do," the tealette admitted, her back pocket weighed down by fifteen dollars worth in coins. "I was going to spend the evening playing games, but then Meiko called, and I'm happy to get a few extra hours in."
Luka chuckled at that. "Boyfriend was also busy, then?"
"No. I'm single."
"Oh. Sorry," Luka said, putting a few bills and more coins in Len's drawer.
"Don't be. I'm fine."
The woman pocketed the rest, turned to face her. "Yeah?"
"Yes. I do live alone, so sometimes it can get a bit lonely, but I've got the c—"
Luka unexpectedly jumped away from the desk, before scoffing. "Jesus."
"What?"
"I thought there was a spider." She chuckled at herself. "I hate spiders. Just a dust bunny. Sorry. You were saying?"
Miku blinked, directed her eyes at the light. "That was about it."
"Alright. You live close by, then?"
"Yeah."
Luka made her way past her, going up the stairs. Miku followed suit.
"So you're studying here?"
"Not anymore. I graduated last year."
"Oh, congrats! What did you study?"
"I got a Bachelor in Architecture."
"No plans to pursue that?" asked Luka as she locked the basement door behind them.
"No. I enjoyed it but I got really burnt out towards the end. It's probably better suited as a hobby for me than a career. So now I'm trying to figure out what to do next, working here in the meantime so I don't starve."
Luka laughed, turning off all the lights as they made their way to the back door of the restaurant; she had locked the front already. "That's fair."
Miku nodded. "Do you study here?"
"Haven't in ages. Started working here two years ago, haven't looked back since."
"Right..." Miku didn't know what else to ask. She ended up muttering, not quite a question, "You were also there on Valentine's day?"
Luka shut the back door of the restaurant and pulled on her jacket. "Yep. Haven't had a girlfriend in a while, so I also had nothing better to do either."
"Oh."
The taller woman stretched again, breathing in the cool night air. Miku looked around, always stunned at how the day seemed to evaporate while she was at work; it was already late, the sky was dark and the street lights were bright.
An unfamiliar sound startled the tealette; it was Luka's lighter, bringing a cigarette to life.
Miku stared; the light of the fire lit up Luka's features, captured her long eyelashes, the curve of her brow. The outline of her hand was sharp as glass, fingers long and nails short. Her tattoo was almost nothing more than a whisper in the dark.
When she was caught staring, the pinkette asked, "Want one?"
"N-no thanks."
"Don't smoke?"
"No. Everybody else here seems to, though." She had counted exactly two others who didn't smoke, among the dozens of different coworkers.
"I'm betting you won't last half a year here without starting," Luka said with a laugh. "Everybody in the business does it."
"I had gathered," Miku muttered. "But I hate the way it smells. I can't stomach it. Plus, I feel like I get enough energy from my own stress."
Luka laughed at that, the sound traveling far in the silent night, clear and full. It made Miku's heart skip a beat, and she couldn't help but smile too. "You're funny."
The tealette didn't know what to say, so she just shrugged and started walking when she did. The reflections of the night lights on the pavement were captivating.
"If it bothers you that much, though, I can stop for now."
"Oh, no, it's fine. We're outside."
"Thanks." Luka took a long drag and exhaled away from the tealette, into the uncaring night air. "Say, you want to join me? I'm going to a bar not far from here."
Miku slowly shook her head. "No, thanks."
"Got other plans?"
"Not really."
"Come on. It's ping-pong night."
The tealette averted her eyes. "I don't really like drinking."
"That's fine, they have very nice lemonade too. Nothing compared to our homemade stuff, but it's tasty," Luka said between puffs from her cigarette. "Might meet some cute guys there. Or gals, whatever's your speed."
Miku smiled politely. "That's great, but I'm alright."
Luka chuckled. "No drinks, no cigs, no dudes? What are you planning? You shooting heroin at home?"
"Just some games to wind down from the evening."
"Seriously? Come on, live a little. For me?"
Miku shook her head, wondering if the other woman was aware of the influence she had on others. It was startlingly difficult to deny her. "No, I'm ok. I... I don't deal well with other people."
"What, not a fan of crowds?"
"Unfamiliar locations, people I don't know in general..." Miku shrugged and tried a laugh, hoping to bring the conversation back to the light-hearted note it had before. "Guess I do come off as a little asocial. I can't really help it though."
Luka slowed to a stop, which Miku mirrored. When she spoke, the tone was gentle. "Are you scared?"
"Sort of. It's mostly... A lot to process. It becomes too much very quickly. I freak out a bit. Even in calm situations, I'm a starer because I'm constantly trying to figure out what exactly people want from me. But with noise and lots of people? If alcohol is available I over-indulge to make it easier but I'm such an awful lightweight. I like making people laugh but I'd rather not make a fool of myself. And I always end up making a fool of myself. So... I don't go."
"Ok, I get you."
"Thanks."
They resumed walking, and Miku had mixed feelings about them traveling in the same direction. She needed to loop around the whole block to get home because the front door was closed, but it would seem that Luka needed to do the same to get to her bar.
"So, if bars and nightclubs and most other popular social joints aren't your go-to, where do you meet people?" Luka asked, snuffing out her cigarette in the ashtray of a trash can as they passed by.
"Work?"
A chuckle. "No, silly. You know, meet people. The internet or something?"
"I...don't."
"You don't?"
"I'm ace. Asexual."
Miku felt more or less safe saying that out loud to her; not only was it frightfully obvious, but it was common knowledge among her coworkers that Luka was a certified, out-and-proud, bona fide lesbian. But the last coworker she had told had insisted that she simply hadn't met the right person yet, adding that he was sure he could fix her, and she wasn't looking forward to potentially having that conversation. Part of her not only hoped but wanted Luka to be more understanding.
On the other hand, she was starting to overshare a lot. But it was too late to take that back.
"Ace? You mean, you don't like anybody?"
"I'm not sexually attracted to anybody," Miku corrected. "I can like people. But not the way most other people do."
Luka shook her head, lit another cigarette. "You don't get lonely?"
"I have a few rewarding friendships," Miku tried to explain. "If I want a hug or if I need support, I can rely on them."
"God, that's cute." The tealette frowned, but didn't have time to object before Luka asked, "You don't want a relationship either, then?"
"Perhaps I might consider it," Miku started. She slowed down her pace; she felt that they were finally going to go separate ways. "Closeness is always nice. But I don't need one. At least not the way it looks like others do."
Luka looked at her for a while, cigarette stuck between her lips. When she exhaled, the smoke billowed between them before being swept away by the wind. "You're a bit of an odd one, aren't you?"
"I know. But I'm a happy odd one, and that's enough for me."
The taller woman smiled at that. "That's awesome. Most people spend their lives trying to figure out what makes them happy."
"I guess not even marginally fitting in anywhere I'm expected to made it easier for me to cut my losses."
"Yeah, maybe," Luka tapped her cigarette to let the ashes fall. "Well, have fun with your games, then."
"Thank you. Have fun at your bar."
The taller woman chuckled and turned to keep walking. "Get home safe."
"You, too."
"Miku, two salads!"
"Yup!"
The tealette tossed the towel so that it fell on top of the still-running dishwasher and made her way over to the kitchen. Kaito, another chef and Meiko's right-hand man, was busy making six crêpes at the same time. When the restaurant was calm, he could deal with all the food-related tasks on his own. But when it was busy like it was right then, he had no choice but to recruit Miku's help.
After thoroughly washing her hands, she prepared the salad with practiced motions, placed the bowls on the counter, and returned to drying the knives. By the time that they were dry, the machine had finished so she opened it, pulled out the tray, pushed in the other tray, shut the machine again, stacked the plates by size, placed all the plastic lids in their own bin so they could drip dry for a bit, placed the plastic containers on top of the machine so that the heat of the metal would evaporate the remaining water, planned to continue cleaning the counter surface but then the bell rang. She dropped the spray bottle and made her way to the counter where Kaito had set four plates and the ticket, the crêpes following the order listed on the piece of paper.
The same applied for the waitstaff; normally, they could do it all on their own. But on busier nights, they also relied on Miku's help.
Miku paused though. She didn't have much practice with moving four plates at the same time. Three in one hand, the fourth in the other. There was a trick with the pinkie but how did it go again? Did she have to give it a try and see if she could figure it out? No, there was no time for trial and error; the restaurant was busy and these needed to get out now. She could see that Kaito was finishing the last two pancakes, dessert for another table, she needed to move them, needed to ask him how it was done again, but no there wasn't time for that either!
She resolved herself to bringing them out two by two, in two trips, but Luka swooped in, a pile of dirty plates in her hands.
"Take these, I got those."
That worked.
Miku breathed, returned to the safe haven of her kitchen, new dirty plates in tow. She placed them in the now-empty rack, decided it wasn't full enough to start a new machine, so she continued with her cleaning duties. Every evening, every surface had to be scrubbed, wiped, and dried. She had done the still-hot hotplates, the fridges, the corner around the sink, and one of the large countertops already. Since it was already only an hour to closing, she figured she was early; there was only one countertop to go and the machine itself, and that always waited on the waitress and chef to bring in their dirty dishes. Then it was the ashtrays, which had to go last, and then she could finish up without waiting for anybody.
She liked the work. She liked the strong sensations she got while she worked. They were straightforward, uncomplicated. The hot steam from the dishwasher burned, the water within even more so, landing and clinging to skin instead of floating away. Stray knives, the tines of forks, they cut and poked and prodded and tugged. The stench of cleaning chemicals burned her lungs, the rough side of the sponge grated her skin, the cool damp humid cloth soothed it all, the warm towel was an ultimate comfort she had no time to indulge in. These sensations were easy in, easy out; nothing messy about them. Each mistake was immediately recognized, identified, learned from. When she got home she would apply some cream, slap on a bandaid for the night, and wait for it to heal. Nobody else could influence it. There was no second opinion about these.
Just as she finished with the counter, placing a towel on it so that everybody knew that it was clean and please, please don't place anything on its bare surface, Luka walked in the kitchen with six empty glass bottles.
"It's quieting down," she told the tealette. "Nobody's come in lately."
Miku hadn't heard the printer by the cook screech as it did when it spit out a new ticket for the past three minutes, so the taller woman was likely right. She was an expert, too, and was actually by the door, so she was probably a better source of information than the printer, come to think about it. Miku busied herself, rinsing the bottles and placing them in the rack before she handed it over to the dishwasher.
She stacked the plates, sorted the cutlery.
Luka was back by then, eyes glued to her phone. When Miku had first observed that trait in Rin, she had thought it was rude, but Meiko could be requesting anything of them at any moment, and right before closing was the best time to check; that sweet spot when the rush was dying down but they hadn't gained momentum on closing yet. Plus, the bell at either door hadn't rung in a moment, and Kaito was down to only three pancakes.
It was finally becoming quiet.
Miku blinked, realized that a sentence had just been directed at her; Luka was looking at her, too.
"Sorry, I missed that."
"I said, you're really getting the hang of it, aren't you?"
"Oh yeah..." Miku muttered as she piled up all the driest containers from the top of the machine. "I guess I am."
"Everybody was really impressed, you know," Luka said casually, still on her phone. She was drinking some water; she likely needed five minutes to herself. She probably knew that right then was the best time to take them. "That you learned so quickly. Meiko most of all."
The tealette quickly placed each container in its respective stack. "Well, she did tell me that I needed to speed up."
"And you did." Luka chuckled, and went on, saying, "I remember your first day, you said you learned quickly. You were right."
Miku felt her stomach sink and her ears burn; she had muttered that as a half-truth, knowing that she learned quickly when she had the motivation to. But she had been so intimidated that day, so scared, so overwhelmed, she would have muttered anything if it meant making herself look brave. But even then she had heard the stutter in her own voice, and her stare had picked up on the slight doubt that had flashed in Luka's eyes.
She had wanted to think that everybody had forgotten about that particular exchange.
"Well, once I could establish a routine, it was a matter of practice," the tealette said, barely loud enough to be heard, picking up the lids that had had the most time to dry; thanks to her system, she knew exactly which those were. "I still have some trouble prioritizing at times, but—"
"Pff, nah. You did great this evening," Luka assured her, eyes on her phone again. "I'd like to see you work on weekends. Real ones, not like that Saturday we worked together."
"Freaking Speed Demon is what she is!" Kaito butted in from the other end of the kitchen.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah! Drops knives and stuff every now and then, nothing that breaks thank goodness, but in the end, it's all done on time. Not a hair out of place."
Miku distracted herself with the lids. "Oh."
"It's a compliment," Luka assured her, though the tealette didn't have to be told that twice. Kaito worked with her on Sundays and was a stickler for details. She appreciated working with him and respected him a lot. On top of that, he had an easy to understand sense of humor. He was a no-nonsense, honest, hardworking, and strict man.
That he said that about her flattered her to no end. She had no idea what she could say.
Lids put away, containers in their place, Miku looked for the next thing to keep her busy, now that things were finally quieting down.
The moment Miku thought that to herself, the moment she thought that she could perhaps go home early and feed Teto while she was still active, the bell rang.
Luka rushed out to welcome them.
"Are you kidding me?" grumbled Kaito. "It's ten to closing."
"Kitchen is still open, technically," Miku playfully reminded him.
"Technically, I'm still allowed to be angry about it," he joked back.
In that dead space of time, knowing the order would come in but waiting for the customers to get settled, to decide, to summon Luka, Miku put all the dishes in their respective places.
Once that was all cleaned up, she had nothing else to do in the kitchen. She could only wait for dirty dishes to come in.
When it came to that, she preferred to go get the plates herself.
She exited the kitchen and walked through the room, trying to find any bottles or plates, recently abandoned and yet to be retrieved. She found a few, and while she walked back to the kitchen, she heard Luka's voice as she read back the order to the customers.
It had been another few weeks since she had last seen Luka, on that not-so-busy Saturday night. This time, one of the other bussers had vacation, and Miku filled in for him that evening. She didn't know the other bussers terribly well; there was only one on shift at any given time, so she knew only the ones who had trained her, and those she had trained. But she was grateful to her nameless coworker, for his absence allowed her to see Luka again.
Her presence was still as breathtaking and inspiring as it always was. She had a new tattoo on her forearm, with a long snake, four figures she didn't recognize, and a crescent moon. Miku longed to get a closer look at it but didn't know how to ask. It was a gorgeous tattoo. It suited her perfectly.
Luka had been friendly as usual ever since Miku had walked in earlier that evening. If she thought less of her since their previous conversation, then she was too professional to let it show, or at least make it obvious. But that easy smile, that reassuring voice, somehow Miku knew that the other woman didn't judge her. Or she wanted her not to. Not everybody was always so friendly.
Lost in her thoughts as she was, Miku almost didn't hear the ticket start printing. The screech roused her as it went on, though. And on. After what felt like an eternity, the chef ripped it from the printer.
"Jesus Christ..." Kaito spat. "Sure, why don't the eight of you walk in and order the most complex things on the menu, won't you? Bunch of autistic motherf—"
"Kaito!" Luka hissed, the venom in her voice burning despite her lowered volume.
He gave her a confused shrug and went back to cooking; he didn't have a second to waste if he wanted to close on time.
Luka stood there for a long second, in the middle of the kitchen, the drawer of coffee grounds in her hands. She stared at the man, and Miku stared at her too before she thought to make space on the tray for the drawer.
None of them had time to lose. Luka walked up to her with the drawer. Inside was also the container with whipped cream.
"Sorry about that," she whispered to Miku. She was standing close, too close.
"It's ok," the tealette replied, making her way around the woman so she could dump the grounds into the trash. "I don't mind."
Luka stopped her as she made her way back to the sink to rinse out the extra grounds. Miku wanted to look, needed to stare, needed to know what exactly the woman wanted from her, what she was thinking, but she kept her eyes fixed on the container of whipped cream that waited for her. The metal caught the light on the corners.
Luka opened her mouth to speak. Kaito shouted from the other end of the kitchen, "Will they be ordering dessert, too?"
"I told them that the kitchen closes at quarter past. So if they eat fast enough, they could."
"Ass..."
"Our numbers are good. Meiko will allow it."
Kaito nodded; even the right-hand man respected Luka's judgment.
Just like that, the woman left again, picking up the pancakes as Kaito set them out.
Miku had stuff to do. The moment Kaito was done with making the savory pancakes, he could hand her a whole pile of his things. There were dozens of spoons to rinse, pans to scrub, spatulas to clean, bottles to empty, and it went on. New tray full, she pulled out the old one, reassembled the coffee drawer, wrapped the handle with a towel —the metal was searingly hot fresh out of the machine— and made her way back to the bar.
The last table of eight was busy chatting. Luka was typing on the tablet; seconds later, Miku heard the screech of the printer far behind her.
"And that's dessert," mumbled Luka as she put the tablet in its dock to charge.
Miku walked the long way around the bar to reach where the drawer should go; the space was too narrow otherwise. She hinged it back without issue, wiped her hands dry with the towel, and started to return to the kitchen, but Luka stopped her, hand on the shoulder, heavy, strong. Her eyes were on her, searing like hot metal, sharp like blades.
"You alright?"
"I am."
"You sure?"
Miku faltered and forced her eyes to the ground. "I'm not good at this. With intense moments. Sudden emotions. I'll process it in my own time. Right now, I have other things on my mind."
Luka didn't reply right away, but she let her go. "Fine. We can talk about it later."
"If you want."
"Yeah."
Miku fled to the kitchen, a stray 'yeah' under her breath, where Kaito had already finished up most of the dessert pancakes and had placed even more things by the sink to clean.
"What was that all about?" Kaito asked her as she returned.
"What was what?"
"When she snapped at me. Never did that before."
"I don't know."
"Alright."
Good thing that they all had more important things to do.
Once again, Miku and Luka were left alone in the basement. Kaito had left for the day, earlier than both of them, and had hurried over to a bar to spend time with some friends.
Miku had fallen behind somewhat; she had forgotten all about the compost bin and needed to wash it without dirtying the sink she had just spent ten minutes meticulously cleaning. It happened. Miku would be later than the two others, and those extra ten minutes wouldn't be compensated, but she didn't mind. It was her mistake.
By the time she arrived in the basement, Luka had finished all of the finances and was waiting for her, her tip drawer in hand.
Miku hadn't been expecting that. The sight of the gorgeous woman, hair tied in a lazy, over-the-shoulder ponytail, tank top still snug, sleeves of the shirt rolled up to the elbows, tattoos old and new hazy in the dark light, paired with those expecting eyes, sharp blue, and her tip drawer, her only real desire, in her hand, the bait, it threw Miku for a total loop and she could only stop and stare.
When Luka motioned for her to come closer, Miku had to obey. Her mind, after being focused on such simple, specific tasks for so long, was sent into a true whirlwind of confusion.
Luka held out the drawer. Miku took it, but the other woman didn't let go. It was a game people had played with the tealette often. Playing with her expectations. It was one she didn't much appreciate.
"Are you alright?" Luka asked.
"Please let go."
She did, and Miku emptied the drawer into her hand. She would count it herself, at home; right then, all she could manage was to stuff it all in her pocket.
The question had resurfaced two previous conversations, ones Miku hadn't had time to process yet.
Luka stepped aside, letting the tealette put the drawer back in its place.
"I will be," she said quickly, not quite able to turn and face the taller woman.
"Kaito hadn't meant anything by it."
"By what?"
"The..." Luka shrugged. "He didn't want to be mean."
"Oh, that. It's no problem, really."
"Really?"
"Yes. It's the compliment that shook me more, to be honest."
Luka chuckled, but it wasn't due to humor, Miku could see it in her eyes. "The compliment bothers you more than the insult?"
The tealette nodded and thought for a moment about how she would best explain it. She kept her eyes on the stair light as she spoke, unable to hold Luka's gaze. "I have been called a few things throughout my life. I've had practice with them, and have learned to ignore it for the most part. Meanness is easy to recognize. People have exploited kindness to hurt me less often, but it is something that hurts all the more."
The taller woman's incredulous look morphed to one of sadness. "Oh."
"It is difficult. When people are kind to me, I cannot tell if it is sincere, or a trick. It makes me so vulnerable."
"It makes you vulnerable when people are nice to you?"
"Yes. I could take it to heart only to be told that it was never meant to begin with, or I could reject it only to seem ungrateful. I need to weigh so many things to finally come to a decision, but by then, it is far too late to react properly. So I don't say anything, and I'll take my own time deciding how I want to interpret it. This also means I don't really know how to respond to a compliment that I know is sincere from the start, rare as that is. Saying nothing is easiest."
Luka nodded. "Alright." She cleared her throat, and asked, "You think that ties into the being ace thing?"
"How so?"
"If you can't take comments, flirting easy, and all that."
Miku chuckled. "Oh, no. That is entirely unrelated. Though I suppose it is very lucky, in a cruel way, that I am ace. Imagine if I actually needed physical closeness, how many complicated and hurtful situations I would have to expose myself to!"
"You'd get used to it, eventually. Like how you learned how to cope with the bullshit people say."
"That may be so. Sadly, I have little to no motivation to go through that, given that I am not attracted to anybody at all. Why would I even start?"
"Right." Luka sighed, and for the first time since Miku had met her, she looked almost timid. She averted her gaze and pulled out the ponytail, running those deft fingers through her hair. "Sorry for all the stupid questions."
"It's alright. I'm glad you ask instead of assuming."
"I just want to understand."
"That means a lot to me."
The taller woman nodded, eyes earnest and serious and there was something else there, something akin to shyness, something akin to vulnerability. "What if..."
Miku blinked once, twice, waiting for her to finish. "Yes?"
"What if I said that I am attracted to you?"
"I would say that that is a terrible joke," Miku said back without hesitation. "Me?"
"Yeah, you. You're really cute, just my type to be honest. And seeing you all flustered in wide-eyed wonder when you first came in, sure, it was endearing. But damn if seeing the way you are when you're in the zone today didn't blow that out of the water."
Miku shook her head. She knew Luka was a straightforward person. She knew that she was efficient, communicative, and honest. And seeing her there before her, the way she stood tall betraying that she was used to conversations like this, the nervous glint in her eye betraying how vulnerable it still made her feel, it was all rather believable. Add her earnest questions, that sincere attempt at understanding, and the tealette could almost be convinced.
Except that she had been led down this path before. Misled, rather.
"I guess it's all a bit much," Luka muttered when she failed to reply. "Sorry."
"Why would you even say that?"
"I don't know. I wasn't going to say anything at all, especially after I learned you were ace. Figured we were looking for different things in life." She shrugged. "But I guess you grew on me real fast and I'd like to shoot my shot at least."
Miku considered the possibilities; saying no would end things very easily. A bittersweet ending, but it was a way out. She might regret it a few years down the line, but that would be it. Saying yes, however? She forced herself to consider the good points: Luka was a dedicated, rational, loyal person. She was easy to talk and share and work with. She was no-nonsense. She was gorgeous.
"We could always go on a few dates first, see how things go."
"You're asking me out. For real."
"Yeah."
"I don't think a single person alive would ever be able to turn you down," Miku muttered.
Luka replied with a timid laugh, a light blush dusting her features. "You're saying you'd consider it?" When the tealette once again remained mute, she added, "If the fact that I'm a woman too bothers you—"
"It doesn't," Miku rushed to say. "I've always liked women more than men."
"Oh! Awesome."
"Their beauty appeals to me so much. Women are simply so wonderful to look at. There's something to say about the strength of men too, of course. It's more the way they carry themselves. But somehow you embody that too. You're—" Miku cut herself off. "I'm sorry. The fact that you of all people are asking me out is... It feels like such a huge, cruel joke."
"I'm not joking though," Luka said, a bashful grin on her face.
"I'm having trouble believing it."
"Is there anything I could do to convince you?"
The question had been like Luka; no-nonsense, no hidden tricks, no double meaning. She had meant it, and the sincerity was crystal-clear despite the storm in Miku's mind.
A singular memory came to mind.
"Perhaps."
In all the years that Miku had lived alone, she had brought someone to her home exactly twice; both times classmates who needed to wait for the train outside of the blistering cold. Each visit had been over a year apart and both had been brief.
Suffice to say, this new occurrence made her mind spin a bit. Was it a good idea? Was she giving Luka the wrong impression? Had she overestimated how understanding she was? Or her open-mindedness? What would she do if Luka were to assault her? Did she need to talk about it with her one more time?
Instead, she said nothing. She wanted to believe that the rather enigmatic 'I need to show you something first' had been enough to tell the other woman that this was no proposition of any sort. She hadn't mentioned coffee and she hadn't winked or posed or added any kind of lilt to her voice.
Luka had merely nodded, perhaps a bit confused but visibly eager to figure out what this was. Whether she was hoping to prove herself or was after a quick deal, Miku couldn't quite tell. Either way, she hadn't asked any further questions, following the tealette out the restaurant, closing it all behind them, and down the dark night streets.
The front door of the building had been locked, which was good, but Miku didn't lock it again behind her. The stairs up were narrow and unlit; she warned Luka of the same hazards she had warned both other guests, namely the extra step around the corner, the low door frame in the hall. She then unlocked her own front door, let the other woman in, and closed it behind them, once again without relocking it.
Her place was dark. Even after she turned on the kitchen light, it failed to reach the far end of the room. Luka took it in with an even gaze, hands deep in her pockets. She hadn't smoked yet that evening, Miku noticed, though she saw the outline of the packet and lighter in her jeans.
"Follow me," she directed the woman, leading her to the far, dark end of the room.
"Do I get a warning?" Luka asked playfully.
"An explanation, if you wish," Miku explained, stopping in front of a moderately sized glass tank. It was unlit, but dry leaves and dirt caught the kitchen light. Before she unlatched the front, she turned on a desk lamp.
The smaller lamp was a lot more powerful, immediately bathing the room and terrarium in bright light. It was filled with dirt, plenty of branches and twigs with fresh, vibrant leaves. Large pieces of cork bark were stuck in the bottom, leaning against the back. A small, shallow water dish sat in the corner, flecks of dirt floating within. In the corners, almost invisible in the harsh light, were several strands of spider web.
Luka didn't glance at it right away, distracted by the display on the desk itself.
"You build?"
"Small structures, yes," Miku explained, opening the front door of the terrarium. "I fell in love with the miniature-making we had to do in school and I still do it in my downtime."
"Are these matches?"
Miku glanced at her, heart in her throat, but Luka wasn't even trying to touch the miniatures; she leaned in close, moved around them, but didn't touch. Miku relaxed. "Yes. I switch it up sometimes. It makes for a challenge. Provides some variety. I use straws, popsicle sticks, beer can tabs... Anything that is more or less regular in shape."
Luka nodded, admiring the finished models that she had resting on the nearby bookcase, taking up far more space than the books did. "These are amazing. It looks like they take forever."
"Several hours, yes."
Luka whistled. "Amazing. I mean it. This is really cool."
Miku smiled timidly. She wanted this one to be earnest. "Thank you."
"If this isn't what you wanted to show me, though, then I can't wait to see what is."
"Well..." Miku started, reached into the terrarium. "Perhaps that one day you could convince me that you truly want to be with me. Perhaps one day, we would go on a date, get close. Perhaps one day, you could even convince me to be physically intimate."
"We don't have to," Luka interrupted.
"Then maybe one day, you could convince me that you would actually give that up, for my sake. But none of that would matter, unless you can accept my roommate."
"Your roommate?"
Miku turned around, her hands cupped beneath a huge, fuzzy tarantula. The tealette watched as Luka's face drained of all color, her eyes as large as dinner plates. She didn't flinch though, and she stood her ground.
"Her name is Teto," the tealette said, moving her hands to treadmill a path for the arachnid as it slowly crept forward. "She is a Chilean Rose tarantula, only two years old, and she is my sweetheart."
"Your..." Luka trailed off, took a deep breath. "She's harmless?"
"She is extremely docile. As long as you don't move to squish her, she won't even flinch."
Teto continued creeping forward, her long legs resting gingerly on Miku's skin. She felt around with each step, each move deliberate and carefully considered.
"How old will she get?" Luka asked, voice filtered.
"Females can live up to twenty years."
Another sigh from the older woman, who still didn't back away.
"You're arachnophobic?" Miku asked.
"Phobic? I don't know. I just really...don't like them that much."
The tealette giggled. "Regardless, I won't ever ask you to hold her, much less force you to touch her. I will never use her to scare you for my amusement; that would stress her out, too. But if you want to consider anything with me, you will have to accept that Teto is my darling first and foremost."
Luka gave a firm nod. "That's fair."
Miku regarded her carefully; her eyes were still stuck on the spider, hands firmly planted in her pockets, posture as stiff as she'd ever seen. But Luka was no liar. She wanted to believe that.
Miku turned back to the terrarium, but Luka cleared her throat.
"Could I try?"
"Try what?"
Slowly, Luka pulled her hands out of her pockets, fingers shaking a bit. "I'd like to try to hold her."
"Oh. Really?"
"Yeah." Luka cupped her hands in front of her, entirely too rigid, the cup far too deep, but she held them out nonetheless. "Just for a bit though."
Miku needed a moment to compute that Luka wasn't even remotely joking. Teto, who had gone still because of all the turning, took this time of silence to slowly continue crawling.
"If you want to, then look here," Miku said, holding the arachnid closer. "Flatten your hands a bit more, relax. Keep in mind that she wants to keep moving, so you have to be ready to make some more floor for her."
Luka took a deep breath and did her best to apply the lesson.
"She won't walk off your hand like a total idiot, and she won't fall if you leave one or two of her legs without purchase, so there's no rush, no hurry. Just try to keep your movements smooth and predictable."
"No sudden movements, right."
"When you provide more ground for her, come in from beneath, not from above or directly from the front," Miku said while demonstrating. "That's much less scary and threatening to her."
"Ok."
"I'll take her from you if she starts crawling up your arm or anything."
"Yeah, I'd really appreciate that."
With a small smile, Miku slowly introduced Teto to Luka's hand. She stepped on, and the tealette saw Luka react to the slight change of weight, to the feel of eight tiny fuzzy feet on her palm.
"Oh my God..." Luka hissed. Still, her hands remained flat, almost relaxed, and when Teto started walking again, she moved as Miku had shown her, if somewhat brusquely. Her hands still shook a bit. Teto couldn't care less.
Miku smiled; she now understood what the taller woman had meant, when she had called her endearing when she had first come in the kitchen. The queen of the restaurant, the most powerful woman Miku had ever seen, was very much outside of her element and she was doing her very best despite it. Wide-eyed, afraid, yet she handled her darling with care and respect.
The minute ticked on with Teto alternating between walking and waiting, turning a bit at times without going up an arm, and Luka still didn't ask her to take the arachnid back. Miku watched as she gradually relaxed. Her heart felt warm.
"You know," the tealette started again. "I have never been in a relationship."
"I gathered," Luka whispered carefully, her attention still mostly on the arachnid.
"I am not entirely sure how I feel towards physical intimacy."
"But... You don't want it?"
"I don't need it. But I am not repulsed by the idea, either. Some aces are sex-repulsed. Others do not mind indulging. While I have never felt any desire for it, and the idea does not disgust me, I am not sure what my precise opinion will be."
"Uh-huh."
Miku grinned, a bit timid. "So, perhaps we go on a date one day. And perhaps we decide that things are working out nicely. Then it is entirely possible that you won't have to forsake that for me."
Luka blinked, as if she just now understood what exactly she was saying. "But if you don't want to—"
"Then we won't. It's simple."
Teto continued crawling, getting a peep from the taller woman. "If you're sure."
"It will be something completely new for me to explore. Plus, of course, the emotional impact of being on the receiving end of affection of any kind will take me some time to get used to. But I don't want to close too many doors too early, and I don't want to get your hopes up either."
"Right, right. Just be honest with me, we'll figure it out as it comes. If you want to."
The tealette chuckled. Teto's presence completely tore through any veneer. "I think I would like to."
"Ah...!" Luka whimpered as Teto turned, making her way up her wrist.
"I'll get her, hold still," Miku whispered before she scooped up the spider.
When Teto eagerly crept back into her terrarium, Miku closing the glass door behind her, Luka let out a long breath.
"I guess I have a bit more respect for spiders, now," she said with a deep breath. "She's actually kind of pretty."
Miku chuckled. "She is gorgeous."
"Not exactly my brand of gorgeous, if you ask me. But yeah. Pretty spider."
Luka had her hands back in her pockets and almost looked deflated.
"You're relieved?"
"Relieved? Oh yeah. Also a bit proud of myself."
"You didn't have to hold her."
Luka shrugged. "I wanted to. You don't owe me anything for it if that's what you're thinking."
"I know I don't. But I'm surprised you even asked to."
"Yeah. I guess you were taking a big leap for even taking my confession seriously. Figured I'd take a leap, too."
Miku felt her heart melt. "If you ever wish to handle her again, you just have to ask."
Luka laughed, the sound filling the space, deep and warm and comforting. "I'll be honest, that won't happen anytime soon. But I'll keep it in mind."
"Noted."
The taller woman sighed and looked at the tealette for a moment. Miku stared back, trying to decipher her thoughts. "You believe me, though?"
"Yes. I don't think you would have gone so far if you had been pulling my leg."
"Great," the taller woman said, voice low. "You don't have to say yes, you know. Just because I asked."
"You're not the first one to ask," Miku teased her. "But, you certainly are the first I'm considering."
A small smile, somewhat sheepish. "I'm honored."
"Please," Miku waved her away, unsure how she wanted the conversation to end. If she wanted the conversation to end quite yet, to begin with. Did she have to make for the door? Ask when she was going to see her again? Pull out her agenda to schedule a date? What was apropos, here? What did this situation call for? Was it already silly, and Luka was merely being incredibly understanding and patient? At a loss and feeling forced to admit it, she muttered, "You would have to be very clear and explicit with things, though. I'm not good at seeing unspoken cues, reading unwritten rules. I don't know the protocols."
"Yeah, I gathered." Luka stepped closer though, hands still in her pockets. "You doing anything tomorrow?"
"Sleep in, for one. Otherwise, no."
"Great. You like pizza?"
"Of course."
"How about I swing by here at noon. We'll have pizza and sit outside."
There was a fountain in the square outside, with steps and a lot of space. Not all that many people walked by, save for the occasional tourist group; it would be quiet, sunny, and close to home. "That sounds perfect."
"Great." Luka gave her a soft, confident smile; with Teto out of sight, she was back to her normal self, knowing exactly who she was and what life she was living. She was once again the most terrifying, gorgeous person Miku had ever met. "Tell me if it's too much right now, but I really want to kiss you."
That was a bit much; Miku froze up, blinked, stared. "Oh?"
"Yeah."
"Now?"
"Yeah," Luka repeated with a chuckle. "But we can save that for another day."
Miku blushed, considering it. She was curious. But this was very fast. It could happen whenever she wanted. Did she have the patience to wait? Luka certainly did. The choice was hers. She thought about it, again and again, eyes anchored on her desk lamp.
"Maybe just a little?"
"A little?"
"A...little kiss?"
"A little kiss then," Luka said with a gentle smile.
Slowly, with no sudden movements, she stepped closer, resting a feather-light hand on the tealette's cheek. Miku could barely feel her fingers there, the warmth of her palm.
"That alright?"
Miku nodded, felt the touch become a little bit more firm as Luka rested a kiss on her forehead.
It felt like a cruel joke to be so close to somebody, to have somebody want to be so close to her like that, to touch her like that, but Miku closed her eyes and tried to convince herself as quickly as possible that this was no dream, nothing cruel and nothing deceptive. Luka seemed to understand, moving slowly, making sure not to part from her too soon, lest she break the spell and make it all feel like nothing more than a half-real memory.
Once Miku relaxed, dared smile at the contact, Luka drew back.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then."
Miku fought down a blush; her heart was racing. "Will we be working together again someday soon?"
Luka paused, thought about it. "Normally, no. But if you want, I can make it happen."
"Really?"
"You're on weekends, right?"
"Yes."
"Alright," Luka said, pulling out her phone. "I'll pull some favors. Next Saturday sound good?" When Miku nodded, she grinned. "I hope it's a busy one."
The tealette chuckled. "I hope you're ready to finish working unpaid overtime, in that case."
"For you, and only for you," Luka said with a wink. "There. Now, if something terrible happens and we can't meet up, and we can't text over the phone for whatever reason, I'll see you on Saturday. No parting us anymore."
Miku smiled. "That's good."
"Text me, ok? Even if you change your mind or something. Especially if you change your mind."
"I will."
Luka nodded and made her way to the door. Miku followed and let her out, teeth worrying at the edge of her lip. "Will you text me when you get home safe?"
"Sure. It's only a five-minute walk away, so expect to hear from me soon."
"Ok." Miku prepared to close the door but shook her head. "I need to follow you downstairs, in case someone locked the door in the meantime."
"And to lock it again, I'm guessing?"
"Yes."
"After you, then."
Miku led them downstairs, warning the taller woman a second time of the sneaky steps, short door frames. The front door had indeed been locked, so Miku unlocked it.
"There. Get home safe."
"I will." Luka paused. "Can I kiss you again?"
Miku blushed, but nodded. "Sure."
This time, Luka merely leaned forward to press her lips to the tealette's brow, staying just long enough for Miku to get her wits and to process the feeling.
"Good night, Miku."
"Good night."
The tealette watched her go, her oversized button-up shirt billowing behind her as she walked. She walked with unparalleled, perfectly dosed confidence, hands in her pockets and head held high. After a few paces, she turned back, her form already nothing more than a dark silhouette in the night, and she waved to her, unashamed.
Miku waved back, closing the door only when Luka had turned a corner.
She still needed some time to process everything that had occurred that night. From the confession to trusting Teto to someone she didn't know all that well to the two kisses, she had a good morning's worth of emotional digesting to do.
She would get a head start, but she couldn't help but remember that despite how close they had been, despite how awful the stench could be, strangely enough, Luka did not smell like cigarettes.