"Gin!" Matsumoto cried as soon as she'd jumped out of Shuuhei's Honda. Izuru was a little taken aback by her apparel, which seemed to be a huge change from what she normally wore. She was wearing a rather sixties-reminiscent short turtle neck tank top made from a heavy powder blue fabric that seemed to downsize her bosom by three-fold. A silver chain belt was draped effectively around her wider hips, and she wore a simple pair of denim jeans and mulberry flats. It was hardly revealing at all. She slammed the door and ran to give Gin a flying hug. Gin's knees buckled slightly under her weight and he staggered back, causing Izuru to jump out of the way. Matsumoto released Gin from her death-hug, and took a step back to give him a once- and twice-over. "You've gotten so damn tall!" She said with a laugh. "Man, it's been years. We used to be such pipsqueaks."
"It really has been, ain't it?" Gin echoed her laugh. "So where d'ya want ta go for dinner? Oh, and I invited Izuru to come along, I hope ya don't mind."
"Oh, I don't mind. I invited Shuuhei, anyway."
"So basically it's a double date." Shuuhei interjected, locking his car and shoving the keys in his coat pocket. He grimaced inwardly.
"Why not?" Matsumoto shrugged, and looped her arm around Shuuhei's elbow, and the other one around Gin's. She looked very happy with her harem of men. Izuru latched onto Gin's free elbow with both arms, feeling protective. His eyebrows pulled together, and his lips formed a lush pout. "Hey, let's get Italian! I feel like spaghetti today."
"Oh, I know this Italian place just down the street," Gin said, swaying back and forth. "Called Luigi's. Sousuke said it was good eats."
"Let's go there! What do you think, Shuuhei? Izuru?" Izuru shrugged and Shuuhei grunted. They were going to be third and fourth wheels in this reunion get-together, they could feel it in their bones.
It was a nice restaurant.
They were seated right away by a young waiter whose name tag told them he was called "Sergio". Sergio brought glasses of ice water, and empty wine glasses for the wine they'd probably be drinking later. He handed them menus and told them to take their time.
Izuru looked around the restaurant, and decided that they were one of the only two groups in the restaurant. His eyes glazed over when he looked at the menu, barely taking in the hard-to-pronounce names of dishes. He thought the... gorgonzola Gnocchi looked good. Guh-nocky? Nyocky? Noh-chee? Guh-noh-chee? He decided he would just point at it when it came time to order.
Sergio came to take their order a little while later, pad of paper in hand. Matsumoto ordered four-cheese tortellini, Shuuhei ordered lasagna, and Gin took five minutes deliberating whether or not he should get spaghetti, Portobello mushroom ravioli, or fettuccini alfredo. Eventually Sergio spoke up, suggesting how delicious the fettuccini was. So Gin went with that, slapping down the menu. Izuru just pointed at his un-pronounceable choice, and Sergio nodded, scribbling it down on his pad of paper. He dashed off, and the four returned to conversation, discussing the pros and cons of cotton versus bamboo fibers. Gin was arguing on the side of bamboo, and was winning.
Izuru cleared his throat and took a drink from his sweating glass of ice water. He set it down heavily. "So how did you and Rangiku meet, Gin?" He asked, leaning forward and placing his chin in his hands.
"Miss Ochi's first grade class. We were reading buddies."
"You were always so much better than me." Matsumoto scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "And you always brought dried persimmons for a snack after school."
Izuru studied Gin's blissful face carefully, forgetting to pay attention to the conversation.
"Hey, Izuru, how did you and Gin meet?" Matsumoto asked, putting her chin on two fists with a sweet smile. "If you don't mind me asking."
"At the c-cemetery." Izuru stammered, caught off guard. He tore his eyes away from Gin's face. "I tripped on him and he walked me to my car."
Matsumoto snickered, and both Izuru and Gin shot her a scolding glance. "Sounds like love, if you ask me." She shrugged.
"I thought Gin was a stalker, at first. He scared the crap out of me." Izuru folded his hands in his lap.
"That's a great first impression, Gin. Way to go." Matsumoto laughed sarcastically.
Gin shrugged. "'S not like I meant it. 'Sides, I thought he cut himself at first. I guess we both had our own first impressions, ne?"
"How did you find out he didn't cut himself?" Matsumoto asked, leaning back in her chair.
Gin stood up, his chair scooting back obnoxiously, grabbed one of Izuru's hands from his lap, and flipped it over to show Matsumoto the pale, blue-tinted skin of the underside of Izuru's wrist. The flesh was unscarred and pristine. "'S pretty hard not to notice when we're hands-on." Gin raised his eyebrows, sitting down, and Izuru took his hand back.
Shuuhei made a small gagging noise. Everybody turned to look at him. "Sorry," he said unconvincingly. "I'm still not very used to this whole... you guys being... homosexual... thing." He twiddled his thumbs.
Izuru shrugged, and Sergio showed up with a basket of bread sticks and a small dish of garlic butter. Gin and Shuuhei immediately reached a piece of bread and a knife to slather on the garlic butter with. They made noises of deliciousness as they bit in. "Is it good?" Matsumoto asked, and when they nodded vigorously in the affirmative, she snagged herself her own piece of bread. Izuru decided he'd hold out for his Gnocchi, and not have any bread.
Which might've been the best decision he ever made in his life.
When Sergio brought out their plates of food and the gnocchi was set in front of him, he nearly salivated a waterfall. And its taste lived up perfectly to the appearance.
Nobody spoke a word while food was being consumed. Matsumoto was first to put her fork down. "Ah." She said, satisfied. Izuru nodded, and somehow Gin slurped a noodle between smiling lips. "Who wants wine?" She asked, reaching for the wine menu.
"I'll have a glass." Izuru offered.
"Same here." Gin pushed the last noodle around in circles on his plate.
"Please drink in moderation." Shuuhei frowned.
"Yeah, whatever." Matsumoto shrugged. "You can be our designated driver!"
Shuuhei folded his arms. "That doesn't make me happy at all."
"Excuse me, waiter!" Matsumoto flagged the young waiter by flapping her arms wildly. "Can we get a bottle of the Chianti Classico?" He nodded, and disappeared into the wine cellar.
Izuru had become very taken with the subtleties of a crystal wine glass. He studied the glistening rim with bright eyes, taking in every tiny scratch from past teeth clacking roughly against it, sipping a multitude of different wines. On the stem were delicate, near-invisible lines from the original making of the glass, and the bottom didn't sit completely flat. But it was a perfect circle. He raised it to his lips for another drink.
"And so I told the guy, 'Hey, my face is up here!' because he was totally staring at my chest. I mean, it's not like I'm that busty!" Matsumoto leaned back, swirling the Chianti around in her glass, two lumps of contradiction stuck to her ribcage. Gin laughed softly, and poured himself another inch of wine. Shuuhei had gotten up to use the facilities, and Izuru was beginning to think he might join him. They were getting pretty rambunctious.
Which was why Sergio intervened. "Excuse me," he said. "Would you mind lowering your voices a bit? You're disturbing the other patrons."
"Huh?" Matsumoto squinted her eyes. Izuru could tell she was playing with him.
"Would you be quiet?" Matsumoto threw her head back and laughed. Sergio frowned, and puffed up his chest. "Ma'am, if you don't settle down, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Matsumoto leaned forward with a snicker. "Listen here, buster. My friends and I are having a good time. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Sergio turned on his heel and stomped off.
"Say," Matsumoto said as they strolled down the lamp-lit street after their meal at Luigi's. She linked arms with Gin, her soft round cheeks tinted with pink from the wine. "Will we see the winter fireworks this year, Gin?" She sighed, leaning on Gin's shoulder. "I remember we used to go every year. Your mother used to buy us fairy floss, and we'd get it all over our faces and in our hair." She laughed, and Gin chimed in. "Do you think there's a firework festival here?" Izuru followed close behind the two, feeling that same sort of protectiveness he'd felt when they were walking to Luigi's. Sensing the uncomfortable feeling radiating off of Izuru, Gin reached back and hooked two fingers through his beltloop, tugging him closer. Izuru followed Gin's example and latched his own forefinger onto one of Gin's beltloops. Shuuhei cast a dark glance over at the two, and pulled a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, stuck one between his lips and flicked his Zippo lighter.
"I haven't looked in t' a winter fireworks festival here on Hokkaido. Izuru, d'ya know of any?" Gin asked Izuru, tugging lightly on Izuru's waist band.
Izuru shook his head, his cheeks flushing. "Not that I can immediately recall. There is the Sapporo Snow Festival, but I don't know if there's fireworks."
"Huh." Both Gin and Matsumoto turned their faces to the dark sky. Izuru looked at the ground and scuffed at a dried leaf with the toe of his shoe. Shuuhei puffed on his cigarette, blowing the blue billowy smoke away from the group. "Let's go t' the Snow Festival, then." Gin decided with that wide mocking simper of his. "Olla us." Gin tugged Izuru so close that their bony hips clashed, and Izuru was forced to let go of Gin's belt loop, otherwise his elbow would have been bent in the most uncomfortable of positions. Matsumoto caught hold of Shuuhei's arm, surprising him so that he almost dropped his cigarette, and slid her fingers down so that they were hand in hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Izuru could see Shuuhei turn the color of a plum. Maybe Shuuhei likes Matsumoto, Izuru thought with a smirk. He wrapped his own arms around Gin's elbow.
"That sounds like loads of fun!" Matsumoto laughed. "Let's do it. I've never been to the Snow Festival before."
Everybody was smiling.
It kind of feels like a family, Izuru noticed, burying his face into the fabric of Gin's sleeve.