Here's another one-shot! All my ongoing works are, fortunately, still ongoing; life simply got in the way for a bit. But I'll get back to them asap. :)
This work is not only beta-read by Ryu-No-Me, but he motivated me to write something based on the Caramel Macchìato image by Edakai, which serves as this fic's cover art (and if they want me to stop and use a different image, let me know!) It was a challenge to find a backstory which would lead to that very image and which could explain their expressions, demeanor, and so on. I hope you all like it!
Luka let out a deep, relaxed sigh as the waitress set down the tray cluttered with mugs of beer. The day had been a terribly, tediously long one, and it was only well after sunset that the meeting had ended. The office room had been overheated, the formality to maintain had been suffocating, and the mere sight of a particular social media editor was enough to make her throat squeeze shut and her chest to tighten. So when they finally left the building into the fresh evening air and Meiko had invited them all for a night out —her treat— Luka was ready to crumble to dust.
She refrained from licking her lips when one mug was set down in front of her, but she immediately went to wrap her hands around the cool glass. Gakupo chuckled.
"Eager to get started, I see," he teased.
"Aren't we all," Meiko replied in Luka's stead. "Cheers!"
They all raised their glasses to meet above the table with a muted clink, before silence settled over the table as everyone finally took a long-awaited drink.
Luka set her mug down before the others, and she took the second of quiet to gather her bearings. Seated across from her was Meiko, the head of the communications department at Crypton Incorporated. In short, she was their boss. At least, she was during the day; Luka wasn't sure how to behave in front of her now that they were officially off the clock, if still wearing their work clothes.
Next to her was Galaco, head editor. Luka didn't know the blonde woman all too well, despite having translated her texts on nearly a daily basis for the past few years. They worked in separate halls, and they chatted during lunch on occasion, but she was quite reserved and rarely discussed her private life. She did impeccable work though, writing not only crystal-clear texts but also being easy to communicate with, which made Luka's work easier.
Across from the blonde sat Luka's subordinate, Gakupo. He was an easy-going, punctual guy, and though Luka didn't understand the languages he translated to, she'd heard that his work was excellent. That was all she could hope for, as his superior. Honestly, she hoped for nothing more, for he was also a voracious flirt and had never failed to ask her out at least once per week. Up until that point, she had managed to avoid being with him after hours, for fear of sending even a single positive response to his many, many signals. She hoped he would take this evening between colleagues as nothing more than that, but she couldn't help but feel apprehensive, cornered between him and the wall of the booth no less. Once she had seen that they were going to sit at a booth instead of a table, she had tried to find a seat across from him, in vain; Galaco's coworker was the one who occupied the last seat on the opposite side and end of the booth.
Her name was Miku. She was head social media editor, and up until the beginning of that week, that was all she was to Luka. Her entire existence could have been summed up with her name, her role, and the tiny little profile picture attached to every company email, skype and other internal communication. She was a solitary type, never going to the cafeteria for lunch or the coffee break, sticking to the company of all those who worked under her and with her.
Luka worked with her, quite regularly in fact. The company tweets, provided by the tealette, needed to be translated in all languages possible. Every other day or so, her computer would ping with an email: 'Dear Translate, I need these tweets translated at your earliest convenience.' Gakupo would be CC'd, he'd groan because there was an entire article for the company magazine to translate before the end of the week, Luka would reply for the both of them saying that it might take a while, and the social media editor would insist that it was of vital importance. Luka would retaliate, and usually the language she used would turn sour. That was when Meiko would be CC'd as well and when both translators would have to change their entire headspace and try to translate less than 120 characters ASAP, usually trying to milk any kind of context from Miku who would, by that point, cease all communication until the next tweet, starting the cycle anew.
She quietly loathed this 'social media editor', who specialized in writing short tweets and office warfare and nothing more, and she suspected that the sentiment was returned. This was probably why Luka had never even seen the woman in person until that Monday. They worked in different halls, spent their free time in different places, and this easy avoiding of one another was one she had intended to maintain. That day's meeting changed things, however, and everybody who was going to attend was to meet in the cafeteria that Monday. Meiko's order, and Meiko's word was law.
In her profile picture, Miku had a polite smile, an even gaze, was impeccably put together. In person, she did not smile. Her posture was flawless. Her presence was damn near terrifying. She had attended the reunion for just as long as needed before leaving without a word.
Luka had to force herself to not stare at the social media editor as she eagerly drank what appeared to be apple juice; she hadn't so much as flinched or groaned throughout the day. During the meeting, she spoke with purpose, asking pointed questions. Her voice sent chills down Luka's spine. The woman was cool as ice.
"No alcohol for the pretty lady?" Gakupo teased the shorter woman, who still didn't even flinch.
"I'm Galaco's ride," she said cooly.
"Come on, live a little."
"I intend to live longer than that."
While Meiko and Galaco barked in laughter, Luka hid her own reaction, a fierce blush, in her mug; the tealette was way, way cooler than she had ever expected. Pictures might say a thousand words, but that clearly hadn't been enough to describe her.
"Bah, at least one of us knows how to have fun," Gakupo grumbled as he elbowed his superior. "Isn't that right, Luka?"
The pinkette damn near choked on the beer but managed to save face. "Just trying not to dehydrate here. Meiko, any reason why they don't supply water at these meetings? I swear everybody was anywhere between melting and drying up like a raisin."
"Preach," Galaco said, pulling at the collar of her uniform; she had already undone the top button of the dress shirt. "Seems to me that sitting in a room for more than three hours without access to water must be illegal."
"It was poor hospitality on their part," the brunette conceded, sitting back on the couch of the booth.
"Bah, we made it out alive, that's what counts," Gakupo said with pride. "Now, no more work chat."
"Agreed," Galaco wheezed, raising her mug again. "I'll drink to that."
"If I may, though," Miku quickly interjected, somehow being fast without even looking like she was in any particular hurry. How was she so effortless? "I'd just like to talk about a few details before..."
Luka sighed, letting her and Galaco talk about whatever they needed to talk about; she really needed to wind down and forget the day even happened.
"Workaholics," Meiko chuckled, shaking her head.
"Apparently," the head of translation muttered. Just as she wanted to bring up the limits of the evening's tab with the brunette, Galaco grabbed her attention.
With all the women in front of her deep in some sort of business conversation Luka had no energy for, she resorted to another deep sigh before sitting back into the couch.
She tried to remember what exactly Meiko had told her about Miku that Monday. After the meeting, the brunette had astutely observed that they had maintained a wide berth between them, and asked why she was always being brought into their debates. Luka had summed up their office drama, and the brunette had laughed.
"She just seems to think that I've got nothing better to do," Luka had said quietly over that day's salad. "It's not like my job consists of writing a couple tweets every other day."
Meiko had grinned wisely. "You seriously think that's all she's doing all day?"
"Huh?"
"You really thought such a big company like Crypton would hire someone just to write little tweets?"
Luka remembered her embarrassment, how it grew as the brunette detailed all of the responsibilities Miku had as Social Media Editor. She wasn't only the one who took care of social media, she was the one in charge there. Her mistakes not only brought the wrath of Meiko, but Meiko's boss and their boss as well. She had her own team, who managed the website, online publications, and so on. All online activity that wasn't a one-on-one human interaction was entirely in her hands. The entire company image rested squarely on her shoulders.
This information not only humbled Luka immensely, but it also made the tealette all the more imposing, impressive, and not to mention attractive, in her eyes. In that conversation, the Head of Translation had developed a massive crush, and Miku hadn't even been there.
That only made her more impressive. And the more Luka looked at her, listened to her throughout the day, the more impressive she became.
Something heavy being draped over her shoulders startled her out of her thoughts: it was Gakupo's arm.
"So," the man started, "I saw you took some really detailed notes of the meeting."
"Yeah."
"I was thinking that maybe we could meet up someday and compare? See how many details I'm missing out on."
Luka blew a raspberry; of all days, this was the one evening she absolutely did not want to waste chatting with the man. "What are you, a high schooler preparing for a test?"
He gave her a long, smoldering look, paired with a slight squeeze of her shoulder. "Sometimes, you make me feel like one, if that counts."
The woman rolled her eyes and took a long drink from her beer; she couldn't forget the whole day fast enough. "My notes will be in the translation drive tomorrow, as they always are. Yours better be, too."
"Yes ma'am."
He turned back to his drink but didn't lift his arm. She squashed the urge to squirm and glanced at the social media editor at the opposite end of the table.
Miku, even at the end of the whole day, was still unbelievably well put-together. While Galaco had a button undone and her collar pried open, and Meiko had gone as far as to take the jacket off and roll up her sleeves, Miku still wore the whole ensemble without as much as a sweat or crease. Her hair, tied into the same twintails as the ones she wore earlier that week, was still neat. Luka briefly mused that such a hairstyle ought to be childish, yet somehow the woman pulled it off. If anything, it might even help with the sweltering heat; her neck was allowed to breathe.
She was so cool.
Luka tugged at her collar, then took another long sip of her beer; a small part of her had hoped that she would get a chance to talk to her during the meeting, despite the larger part knowing that she shouldn't have expected it — rightfully so. Neither part had anticipated the night out afterward, and even if they had, that Miku would ever come. The tealette truly was a loner, as far as she knew. Maybe Meiko and Galaco knew a different side of her though. Maybe she was more social than she let on and simply prefered to be efficient while at work. Luka could only hope so. Maybe she could try to approach her sometime during the evening? How long would she stay?
Another squeeze of her shoulder brought her back to reality.
"So, if we won't be swapping notes in the traditional way, maybe we could ditch the office brood and spend some more time one on one?" Gakupo proposed, his eyes full to the brim with the double entendre. "I feel like we aren't nearly close enough for all the time we've known each other."
"Maybe that's by design," Luka tried to cooly retort, her grip on her collar tightening.
"Aw, don't be like that. I don't like playing these games for so long."
"Neither do I."
He chuckled. "Then why are you playing like this? Come on, you know I'm a nice guy."
"For a nice guy, you seem to struggle with understanding 'no, thank you'." She was going to worry her collar to tatters; she gripped her mug of beer, hoping to create a little barrier between the two of them.
"Nah baby, I understand perfectly. 'No' is just a yes with a little asterisk next to it; some terms and conditions may apply."
Luka seethed, tried to free herself from his grip with a roll of the shoulders, in vain. Instead, due to her movement, the beer sloshed all over her hand and onto the table. If anybody noticed, nobody said anything. "Quit it."
"Alright baby."
She drank, as did he, and the other three finally finished their conversation.
"No more work talk this evening!" Meiko ordered.
Galaco cheered. "Understood, ma'am!"
"Loud and clear," Miku replied, voice even as ever.
"So, what are our limits for the evening?" the head of translation dared ask, painfully aware of the weight of Gakupo's arm over her shoulders.
The brunette laughed, and told them that as long as they didn't start ordering thousands of fancy drinks or did anything outrageously stupid, they were all among friends and didn't have to worry about any kind of consequent prejudice in the workplace. This was followed by another cheer and toast, during which Luka noticed that her mug was already half empty. Even Miku's apple juice was still mostly there, and her gaze seemed cooler than ever.
The group joked about the meeting, mostly about the coworkers who sadly couldn't join them on the night out: Anon and Kanon, twins who always seemed to be needed elsewhere but never had the same story when asked why. They were the main authors for the variety of articles, the ones Luka had to painstakingly translate and which Miku apparently had to greenlight. They talked about the various stories they heard, laughed when they finally found recurring themes or characters, and wondered whether the two young women still lived with their parents or even lived together at all. Soon enough, another round of drinks had been ordered and arrived, and then another, and Luka was starting to feel the effect of two and a half pints of beer flowing through her system. Gakupo's arm was getting heavier and heavier with every passing minute. The distance between them seemed to shrink with every laugh, while every one of her laughs became more and more strained. The heat of his body was pressing against one side, the cool wall against her other. She could hardly even breathe.
"Enough about them," Meiko eventually waved away the topic of the twins. "I don't like talking about people who aren't present."
"We're not saying anything bad," Galaco cheekily reminded her.
"Well, let's talk about us, then," Gakupo merrily proposed. "Miku, why haven't I seen your lovely face around before?"
"My friend likes to spend her breaks in solitude," the blonde defended her coworker. "She deals with enough chatter while on the job."
"If you ask me, you need to bless us with your lively presence more often," the man laughed, and Luka felt like dying inside; Miku was hardly as lively as the rest of them and had barely even participated in the conversation up until that point. "Seeing you even for a second would make my day."
Right then, his arm felt like lead. Luka drowned her embarrassment with more beer. There goes mug number three. Part of her hoped it would knock her right out, as unlikely as that was.
"Are you sure it's wise to flirt with other women in the presence of your girlfriend?" Miku inquired, voice like a blade.
Luka nearly choked on her beer for the second time that evening. "We're not dating," she said, proud she didn't quite sputter, or slur.
"Not yet," he said, pulling her closer. He was slurring, for sure. "It's all a matter of time, baby."
"As if."
"It's this little game we've been playing," he explained for Miku, pressing his cheek against Luka's.
The woman frowned, feeling how the beer had drastically burned away at her fuse. Had he always been so insufferable? Was he drunk? Or did being watched by others finally make it more embarrassing?
"She doesn't seem to be having much fun," the social media editor observed.
"Thank you, I'm not."
"Luka's the proud sort, won't admit it when she loves someone."
"Is it so hard to imagine that I simply don't love you at all?"
"Aw, don't be so mean."
"I'm being honest."
The waitress walked by right then, asking if everything was alright. Luka couldn't even glance at the woman, and listened as the table muttered that there were no problems. The wall was cold and ungiving against her side, Gakupo was unbearably heavy and oppressive, and her coworkers' passive acceptance of it all was so chilling it almost made her sick.
Once the woman left, Luka managed a wafer-thin, "I need to go to the bathroom."
Gakupo chuckled, but before he could say anything Meiko barked, "She's had three beers, dude. Let her go."
He raised his hands in surrender and scooted out of the booth, letting Luka pass without any further issue.
An indeterminable amount of time later, she was staring down her reflection. She didn't quite remember how she found or reached the bathroom. The AC hummed above the door, the bar crowd buzzed far, far away. The ungiving stone was quiet and cool under her hands; it told her she was finally alone.
She took a deep breath, held it, then slowly released it. Once her lungs were empty, she paused before inhaling again, starting the cycle anew.
He wasn't evil. They were all a bit drunk. She could still feel the buzz coursing through her system; her balance wasn't all there, her thoughts seemed to lag behind, her vision wasn't quite as fast as her eyes.
She didn't think Gakupo would push so hard. Was it the carte blanche given by Meiko, in addition to the alcohol? Or did she just let him keep pushing for so long that he figured it was alright? Was it her fault? Was she sending mixed signals?
The woman sighed, washed her face. It was about time she brought up the issue with Meiko. Hell, the woman wasn't stupid, she was probably giving Gakupo and earful right then. Would he be fired? Would Luka mind if he was? He did fine work, for sure...
She took a couple of paper towels and dried her face. She hadn't even wanted to think about him, much less talk to him. She had wanted to get to know Miku. What had she thought of this whole affair? Was she judging her for asking for it? Or for being a pushover?
After fixing her hair and trying, in vain, to straighten her fretted collar, she exited the bathroom.
Now...where was she again?
Luka looked around; the walls around her were the same orangered as the rest of the bar, complimented by the presence of a couple of tall, dark-green plants in the corners. She recognized the two doors which led to the bathrooms, a third one marked 'employees only', and a narrow hall, from which she could hear the distant crowd.
She headed down the hall, thinking that she had to talk to Meiko about all this as soon as possible. She didn't want to see Gakupo refuse 'no' for an answer in a couple of months' time if he wasn't going to take 'no' then and there.
The hall led to an indoor balcony; she could see the whole bar from there. From that angle, the entire space was huge. The ceilings were high, even though she was on the second floor. Wide columns and arches stood tall, decorated with lights, lighting everything up in a reddish glow, yet there was something sleepy about it all. What time was it? She checked the time on her smart watch, only to find that it had lost power sometime during the day.
Casting only a spare glance at the writhing crowd, she made her way down the first stairs she could see.
She turned a corner and almost ran right into Miku.
"Oh! Sorry."
"It's alright," Miku said, seeming entirely unfazed. "How are you?"
She felt like she had just tasted her own heart. "I'm fine. Got a bit turned around, that's all."
"Good. I wanted to let you know that Gakupo has left. I think he realized that he has overstepped a few boundaries. Meiko said that she would talk with him next week."
"That's... That's good."
Miku stared at her with that cool, unwavering gaze. Luka didn't know she was so much taller than her, she could hardly feel it.
"Well, thanks for telling me. I wasn't sure what I was going to say when I came back."
"It's no problem." The tealette rearranged her grip on her briefcase. "I'm also here to bid you a good night; I am heading out."
"I thought that you were Galaco's ride."
"I still am," the tealette replied, turning away from the translator. "I'm merely going to find a quieter place to wait. It is far too loud here."
"So you're leaving?"
"Yes. I hope you have a more pleasant night, Ms. Megurine."
It felt like a punch in the gut. Luka could barely formulate a plan in her alcohol-inundated brain before she rashly called out, "What's the hurry?"
"Pardon?"
"I mean..." Luka cleared her throat and tried to give her an easy-going smile. "It's not that busy here, really. End of the week, popular night-life street? I don't think there will be any place that's quieter around."
The tealette gave her a wry smile, held her briefcase with both hands clasped before her. "I was planning on sitting in my car."
"Your car? Isn't that dangerous?" the translator asked as she stepped a bit closer; the joint really was busy and it was a bit hard to hear her.
Miku's reply cut through the noise like a hot knife through butter. "Hardly."
"Well, that's a bit of a shame then," Luka admitted. "I'll be honest, I was looking forward to getting to talk with you, face to face."
One teal eyebrow arched slightly. "Were you?"
"Of course!" the taller woman said, replacing the tone of beer-fueled enthusiasm and honesty with what she hoped was smooth and tempting bait for further conversation. "Especially after all the emails we exchanged, I thought that getting to know one another was slightly overdue."
"Were you presuming that I had a similar inclination?" was purred, with its own wry smile.
The translator blinked: what did that even mean. "Yeah?"
A chuckle, eyes downcast. "Good night, Luka."
Miku made to turn and leave for good, and the taller woman saw the chance just slip by, the conversation aborted right then, followed by more months, years of awkward emails, of hopeful glances towards the cafeteria door, uninvited questions of whether she would show up at this or that corporate event.
"Wait!" she barked, catching up to the tealette in two long strides. As Miku once again turned to face her, Luka managed to position herself between her and the exit; anything to stall her just a little bit more. "Think about it, really," Luka offered with an easy grin. "We've both been working for the same company, in the same division, for years! It's crazy that we're properly meeting only this evening, right?"
"Not terribly so."
Luka leaned against the wall with an arm; the other woman wasn't making any effort to leave yet. So far, so good. The translator felt herself relax, stuck her hand in her pocket in an effort to look more casual. "Yeah?"
"If I ever had any intention of meeting you, I would have made an effort."
"Oh come on. I know we got off on the wrong foot, what with my emails. But I just want us to have a bit of fun together, for once."
"Does it look like I'm having fun?"
Luka's smile slid off her face as she took in the woman before her; the smile was long gone, and all that was left behind was an ice-cold stare. Although she wasn't pressed against the wall, her slightly downturned head, the steady glare, and the way she kept her hands clasped together between them, her briefcase in a deathgrip, were enough to tell Luka that she wasn't even remotely happy. Forget having fun: her suit was still crisp from the collar to the cuffs, vest buttoned despite the warmth, hair tied up flawlessly while Luka and everybody else in the entire building was letting go and getting drunk.
Miku didn't want to be there in the slightest. Worse yet, being there with her, the rude translator? Luka looked at herself, arm against the wall, pinning the shorter woman in place and cutting off her exit route in one effortless gesture. She probably reeked of beer too, and didn't look quite at her best with her ruffled collar, end-of-a-long-day hair and I-was-upset-two-minutes-ago eyes. She'd almost forgotten that she had been upset. Upset at Gakupo.
Luka stepped back, hands to her face.
"Oh my God, I'm an ass," she groaned. She said it again, pulling at the roots of her hair, drawing out the last word, "I'm an ass..."
This, in turn, elicited another chuckle from Miku. "Quite."
The translator could barely look her in the eye. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I had no idea, I was just—" she cut herself off. "No, I won't make excuses for myself. I'm sorry. I— you can go."
The grin was back, less wry and more amused. "First time someone called you out?"
"First time I ever tried to talk to someone I like," Luka confessed. "God, I'm an ass. I can't even write to you in an email, why did I think I could talk to you like a normal person?"
"I'm not entirely sure," Miku quipped.
Luka ran her hands through her hair, sighed, and glanced at the woman. She was smiling. "Alright, since you haven't left quite yet, let me try again..." She stuck her hand out, as far as she possibly could without reaching. "Hi, I'm Luka Megurine. It's nice to finally meet you in person. I'm sorry for my tone in our emails; it was due to a profound misunderstanding. And I'm sorry for my behavior just now, I'm an idiot. I hope to make it up to you somehow."
Miku grinned, her eyes still cool, though a flicker of amusement danced within. After a second's wait, she took her hand. Her grip was firm. "Nice to meet you."
They shook and let go simultaneously. Luka sighed again, letting her shoulders sag. "God, this day sucked."
"It could have gone much worse."
"I guess." Luka waved the idea away. "Doesn't matter. I'll let you go now. I'll go be a drunk ass elsewhere."
Without waiting for her reply, the translator turned to leave.
"One moment."
"Yeah?"
"Will you be in next week?"
"Well...yeah?"
"There is a lovely park not too far from our building. Would you like to join me for lunch there?"
Luka paused, turned around. Miku was full of self-assured mirth and amusement.
"What, really? Me?"
"There's a hot dog stand there on Mondays."
"Hot dogs on M— But why?"
"Perhaps because I'd like to get to know you as well," Miku simply explained, looking like the cat that ate the canary.
"Is... Are you joking? After that ridiculous display?"
"'Despite' would be the better word," the tealette said, taking a step towards the translator. "It was rather clear to me that you had been meaning to speak to me all day. I was not exactly sure why, but I gathered it had to do with the unfortunate tone of our correspondence thus far."
"Oh."
"Now, if you were so nervous because you're fond of me," Miku continued, looking up at the woman with the slightest grin. She was standing awfully close, come to think of it. "Then I suppose we can work with that."
"You're kidding."
One slow blink. "No."
"Huh."
"Your hypocritical hypermasculinity just now almost changed my mind altogether," Miku admitted. "Fortunately, your apology was fitting. And funny."
This time, Luka was the one who chuckled, if partly to distract from the blush. "You're really not kidding."
"I would not waste either of our time like this if I was."
The translator cleared her throat, wondering if she was suddenly so dizzy because of the alcohol. "Well, in that case, I'd love to have lunch with you on Monday."
"Lovely. I'll come get you at your office."
"You— You know where my office is."
"Of course I do," Miku said, and Luka realized that they were so close, they could speak normally despite the noise. "I make it my business to know the whereabouts of my coworkers, especially when they are so rude."
"O— Oh."
"I'll pick you up on Monday then."
"Quarter to twelve?"
"That works."
"Wonderful. I look forward to it," she managed to add without quite croaking.
"Likewise. I hope you have a more pleasant evening, Luka."
"Honestly, not sure anything could ever happen that would top what just happened."
Miku gave her that same self-satisfied grin, and Luka was sure she would get addicted to the sight. She nearly whispered, "A charmer now, are you?"
The translator did her best nonchalant shrug. "I try."
"I'll reward this particular effort," Miku said with an easy laugh, before standing on the very tips of her toes to plant a feather-light kiss on her cheek. "I'll see you on Monday."
"Y-yeah."
And with that, the tealette turned around. Luka could only watch as she left the building, her head in the clouds, her heart racing and her cheek warm from the lingering touch.