Title: Casual Monday
Summary: Saitou's off; Tokio's surprised
Word Count: 999
A/N: Ack! I just barely made it!
It's probably really dumb, but despite not technically working today, she shows up at the luncheonette.
Just to see if a certain too-tall, snarky, smirking police lieutenant is around.
All right, it is really dumb, but Tokio ignores that truth, especially when, to her delight, she sees him walk in, hands in his pockets.
His jeans pockets.
Tokio blinks in surprise and can't help but stare.
Saitou isn't in his uniform. He's in civilian clothes, jeans and a shirt and sneakers, a cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth.
And she'd thought he looked good in his uniform.
…Good gods did those jeans do him justice.
Cue the first blush of the day.
He's surprised to see her too, but only for a moment, and then that familiar smirk is back on his face and Tokio has the urge to both sigh like a moony-eyed teenage girl (which she is, technically, at least for another two months) and sigh in pained resignation, because by now she knows what that smirk means.
"Fancy seeing you here Takagi-san," he drawls around his cigarette.
"Saitou-san," she primly says, inclining her head ever so slightly in a way that she knows amuses him because his smirk isn't quite as threatening anymore.
"Don't you ever get days off?"
"I'm still a newbie," she says. "Newbies don't get days off."
"Never knew the museum business was so cutthroat," he remarks with that glint in his eye that tells her he's teasing her now.
"You'd be surprised," she dryly replies, and he grins and she feels delight dance up and down her spine, the way it does every time she plays along with his game and he gifts her one of those pleased grins in return.
He crushes out his cigarette in the ashtray Shiori pointedly puts down in front of him before moving on, and sends her an amused look.
"So what exactly does the newbie do at this cutthroat museum that she works at?"
"Associate Director," she replies, and this time he isn't able to hide his surprise the way he usually can.
He stares at her, and she's pretty sure that if he hadn't had more restraint, his jaw would have dropped too.
"'Associate Director'?" he repeats incredulously. "You're barely out of high school!"
She sends him a flat look.
"Oh be quiet," she mutters irritably.
"You're kidding, right?" he asks after a minute.
"Do I look like I'm kidding, Saitou-san?" she asks coolly.
"Well right now you look like you ate something that didn't agree with you," he replies, and she glares at him. "All right, all right," he says, holding up both hands in a placating fashion, and her eyes narrow in on the calluses there.
"How did you get those?" she asks curiously, her pique already forgotten.
He raises an eyebrow, then turns a hand around to look at the palm.
"What, these?" he asks, shrugging when she nods. "Kenjutsu."
"Oh, you trained?"
He shrugs again.
"Yeah, some."
"Any good?"
He smirks this time, and Tokio rolls her eyes, knowing what's coming.
"The best there is, Chiisai," he says smugly, and she rolls her eyes again.
"I'm sure," she replies, and he looks mildly put out that she doesn't appear to believe him.
Before he can tease her into admitting his prowess, however, Shiori returns with both their orders, and Tokio is amused that Saitou didn't even have to order his meal; if there is one cute thing about the man, it is his obvious love of soba. It's such a little-kid thing, to insist on having the same thing for lunch every day, and she finds it oddly endearing.
They settle into companionable silence while they consume their meals, and Tokio thinks that this is really very nice, and wishes he could stick around more often.
"So how good are you really?" she asks when they're done; she's just killing time now, not really ready to go back to work when Saitou's still around.
"At kenjutsu?" he asks, pulling out another cigarette.
"Uh-huh."
He strikes a match and lights his cigarette thoughtfully.
"Well, I guess I'm all right," he says, serious now. "I never took lessons formally, you understand—my old man taught me."
"Really?" she asks, surprised.
He nods.
"Dad's good—he never took lessons formally either. Taught himself." His gaze pins her down from the corner of his eye and he smirks faintly. "What about you, Chiisai?"
She frowns at him.
"My name is not Chiisai, Saitou-san," she returns, and leads the conversation away from the old warrior arts. She's never been shy about letting men know that she takes karate, but she knows that that changes their perception of her, makes her seem less feminine, and she doesn't want Saitou looking at her like that.
For the first time in her life she wants to be girly for a man.
Eventually, she has to leave and she says good-bye to Shiori and Saitou and picks her purse up off the counter.
"Oi," Saitou says just before she leaves, and she pauses and looks over her shoulder. "I'll give you a demonstration one of these days," he offers, smiling an odd little smile she doesn't recognize. "Then you can judge for yourself if I'm any good."
She considers him, then smiles in return.
"All right," she says. "Sure, Saitou-san."
He winks at her and turns back to the counter and she leaves, blushing and a little taken aback; it's almost as if he's… Tokio raises an eyebrow…flirting with her.
The blush deepens.
She decides she likes the thought, even if she's not sure if it's true.
It occurs to her, as she's walking back to the museum, that his offer could be called a date, in the loosest sense of the word. She doubts, however, that he means it that way. She also doubts that he was serious about it in the first place.
Still…she likes the idea of having a standing "date" with Saitou.