A Day Late [Renji/Tatsuki]
Title:A Day Late
Author: overtoned
Word Count: 1, 173
Characters/Paring: Renji/Tatsuki
Rating: G-PG13?
Warnings: AU. Pretend Soul Society does not exist. Severe incompetence on my behalf. Drinking. Lots of it. Oh, and I have no knowledge in alcohol whatsoever, so if you drink, and you actually know about drinks, you might LOL.
Author’s Note: LET THIS BE A WARNING TO YOU ALL: Jazzy is not capable of writing Renji/Tatsuki. Trinity, I’m going to have to tell you that your faith in me has been greatly misplaced. After multiple failed attempts and the complete scrapping of one nearly completed one [of which many of my betas now have as blackmailing device ;-;], I have managed to pull this out of my … head. Yes, head. And now I must force myself to admit that I cannot write this pairing. I’m very sorry for the level of suck that this is, and I hope this serves as a warning to you all to not request this pairing from me again. Unless you like watching me fumble [I take my betas down with me?]. Thank you to nearly everyone on my beta list, especially cccpirate, of whom I nagged for days. [isry]
But it’s done. Thanks god. And now I have 3 days to write the next fic. I am equivalent to miserable failure. Woes.
There is a guy at the corner of her bar, and he has been sitting there for the past hour. Tatsuki was okay with that. A lot of people came in and stayed past an hour, much later, in fact. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that for the past hour, the man has been sitting at the bar with only one drink- and it was a godforsaken martini- and that was it. Sitting, with one drink, not drinking and not asking for more.
To be honest, it pissed her off.
She finished drying the cup in her hand and mounted it upside down on the hanging rack. Then she tossed down the cloth and began to gather in the empty glasses that customers had left behind. "Hey," she demanded as she was within earshot of him. There was no reaction.
"Hey," she said again, louder and more annoyed. "Mister."
He looked at up her. Are you talking to me?
She narrowed her eyes.
Oh, his expression said as he perked up, albeit rather tiredly, she's talking to me.
"Is there something wrong with that drink?"
He frowned and looked down, his eyes widened, as if he had only just noticed its presence. The ice had all melted and had washed away bits of salt crystals that circled the rim.
"Yeah," he bit out, his upper lip rising to a snarl as he prodded at the mint leaf that was now drenched and soggy with a tiny straw. "I see plenty wrong with this drink."
She shot him an irritated look. "Oh gee, I could've sworn it was drinkable an hour ago."
"An hour?!" he yelped, digging his hands into his pants and fumbling out a cell phone: one that looked entirely too small for his hand. Tatsuki snorted. Men were always coming in here with miniature accessories that they claimed to be the newest model, when really, they were just a mark of domestication by their respective girlfriends. Especially when the screen had a pink lining and a sticker of a cartoon rabbit.
She left him, filled two orders, and brought several glasses into the icebox to chill. Without lifting her head she could see him dial frantically as he jabbed impatiently at the keys. 'Hello', he mouthed moments later, his voice covered by the warm chatter of the bar. She saw his face contorting into different expressions of bewilderment, anger, and finally, disappointment. He ran a hand roughly into his hair-he had red hair, much too long and pulled rather painfully into a tight ponytail-and left behind a slightly ruffled mess when he removed his fingers. The girl, Tatsuki figured, had just remembered to call after an hour of deciding not to come.
He slid the cover back onto his phone and slumped. She watched him reach around blindly for that cup of discarded martini before she leaned over and swiped it.
"What the hell!" he exclaimed angrily as he watched her pour its contents down the sink.
She ignored him and pulled a chilled martini glass out of the icebox. Within moments she had his drink remixed and back in front of him.
"No one drinks shit in my bar." She glared down at him. "Drink."
She watched him throw his head back and drain the glass in one gulp, then thrust the glass back to her. "One more," he said, an edge of cockiness sneaking into his voice. "And don't make it so damn fruity this time."
She snatched the tiny-stemmed cup away from his hand and threw it into the sink. Men had a quick way of turning into jerks under the influence of alcohol. "Nice phone," she said, trying to sound off-hand, "new model?"
He flushed; he had a way of looking like he was preparing for battle when he did. "Like hell," he glowered at her as he turned slightly away. "You think I like rabbits?"
She shrugged and handed him a drink. "Some guys do."
He took a drink and looked annoyed. "Some guys are gay."
She raised her eyebrows. "Some guys have girls."
He chugged the glass before looking pointedly at her, "shut up." Sore spot, she noted, but she was beginning to like his drinking pace. "This stuff tastes like piss." He frowned at the empty cup then handed it back to her. "I'll have another."
"It's whiskey," she snapped, turning away to refill. "Scotch. But of course you wouldn't know anything about it, martini-boy."
"Hey!" he replied rather defensively. "Not my friggin' fault. She always did the ordering."
Ah , she thought as she handed him another.
Weekdays were slow days, always. She turned around and served a few more people; the bar was starting to empty. When she came back, he was waiting.
"I think you oughtta giv'em to me two atta time," he informed her. His speech was starting to slur. He had obviously never drunk whiskey before.
"You'd better not be driving." She refilled it anyway. "Last one. You're gonna pass out."
He gave her an irritated look. "I dun feel drunk attall."
She took up the polishing cloth once again and turned her head to glance at the clock with the wooden frame. "Just wait." It was ten minutes to midnight.
He cradled his cup and chewed the inside of his lower lip. Tatsuki watched him carefully: he was either thinking very hard or he was trying very hard not to throw up. She was just about to reach for a bucket and he looked up at her. "'M a fucking idiot."
She blinked at his sudden revelation and tried not to laugh. "Her?" she nodded to the phone he was poking at on the table.
He grimaced and drained the cup, which she took to be a yes. "Got promoted t'day." He motioned for her to refill. She took the whiskey glass away and handed him a bottle of beer.
"Congratulations."
He took a sip and winced. "I lik-ed the pissy drink better."
"No more pissy-drink for you."
He choked on a laugh and shrugged. She watched him make his way down half the bottle. "'D think I be good 'nuff fer 'er now." He laughed again, harshly this time. "Tuh- two years."
She waited for him to catch his breath.
"'Ve known 'er fer two years, worked at it fer tha' long." He raised his hand, one finger into the air. He waved it at her, hands a little unsteady. "Two years an' 'uh day too late," he declared.
She glanced back at the clock. Five minutes now.
"An' now," he laughed dryly, "'S engaged. T'a guy she met las'… month…"
Tatsuki put the glasses back onto the rack for the night. She was going to have to close up soon. She turned back around in time to see him slump down onto the table, his left hand sliding slowly off the neck of the bottle. She leaned over and slipped it away from his grasp, and, after a moment, patted his hand.
I. Will. Atone. For this. I promise. *grimace*
Author: overtoned
Word Count: 1, 173
Characters/Paring: Renji/Tatsuki
Rating: G-PG13?
Warnings: AU. Pretend Soul Society does not exist. Severe incompetence on my behalf. Drinking. Lots of it. Oh, and I have no knowledge in alcohol whatsoever, so if you drink, and you actually know about drinks, you might LOL.
Author’s Note: LET THIS BE A WARNING TO YOU ALL: Jazzy is not capable of writing Renji/Tatsuki. Trinity, I’m going to have to tell you that your faith in me has been greatly misplaced. After multiple failed attempts and the complete scrapping of one nearly completed one [of which many of my betas now have as blackmailing device ;-;], I have managed to pull this out of my … head. Yes, head. And now I must force myself to admit that I cannot write this pairing. I’m very sorry for the level of suck that this is, and I hope this serves as a warning to you all to not request this pairing from me again. Unless you like watching me fumble [I take my betas down with me?]. Thank you to nearly everyone on my beta list, especially cccpirate, of whom I nagged for days. [isry]
But it’s done. Thanks god. And now I have 3 days to write the next fic. I am equivalent to miserable failure. Woes.
There is a guy at the corner of her bar, and he has been sitting there for the past hour. Tatsuki was okay with that. A lot of people came in and stayed past an hour, much later, in fact. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that for the past hour, the man has been sitting at the bar with only one drink- and it was a godforsaken martini- and that was it. Sitting, with one drink, not drinking and not asking for more.
To be honest, it pissed her off.
She finished drying the cup in her hand and mounted it upside down on the hanging rack. Then she tossed down the cloth and began to gather in the empty glasses that customers had left behind. "Hey," she demanded as she was within earshot of him. There was no reaction.
"Hey," she said again, louder and more annoyed. "Mister."
He looked at up her. Are you talking to me?
She narrowed her eyes.
Oh, his expression said as he perked up, albeit rather tiredly, she's talking to me.
"Is there something wrong with that drink?"
He frowned and looked down, his eyes widened, as if he had only just noticed its presence. The ice had all melted and had washed away bits of salt crystals that circled the rim.
"Yeah," he bit out, his upper lip rising to a snarl as he prodded at the mint leaf that was now drenched and soggy with a tiny straw. "I see plenty wrong with this drink."
She shot him an irritated look. "Oh gee, I could've sworn it was drinkable an hour ago."
"An hour?!" he yelped, digging his hands into his pants and fumbling out a cell phone: one that looked entirely too small for his hand. Tatsuki snorted. Men were always coming in here with miniature accessories that they claimed to be the newest model, when really, they were just a mark of domestication by their respective girlfriends. Especially when the screen had a pink lining and a sticker of a cartoon rabbit.
She left him, filled two orders, and brought several glasses into the icebox to chill. Without lifting her head she could see him dial frantically as he jabbed impatiently at the keys. 'Hello', he mouthed moments later, his voice covered by the warm chatter of the bar. She saw his face contorting into different expressions of bewilderment, anger, and finally, disappointment. He ran a hand roughly into his hair-he had red hair, much too long and pulled rather painfully into a tight ponytail-and left behind a slightly ruffled mess when he removed his fingers. The girl, Tatsuki figured, had just remembered to call after an hour of deciding not to come.
He slid the cover back onto his phone and slumped. She watched him reach around blindly for that cup of discarded martini before she leaned over and swiped it.
"What the hell!" he exclaimed angrily as he watched her pour its contents down the sink.
She ignored him and pulled a chilled martini glass out of the icebox. Within moments she had his drink remixed and back in front of him.
"No one drinks shit in my bar." She glared down at him. "Drink."
She watched him throw his head back and drain the glass in one gulp, then thrust the glass back to her. "One more," he said, an edge of cockiness sneaking into his voice. "And don't make it so damn fruity this time."
She snatched the tiny-stemmed cup away from his hand and threw it into the sink. Men had a quick way of turning into jerks under the influence of alcohol. "Nice phone," she said, trying to sound off-hand, "new model?"
He flushed; he had a way of looking like he was preparing for battle when he did. "Like hell," he glowered at her as he turned slightly away. "You think I like rabbits?"
She shrugged and handed him a drink. "Some guys do."
He took a drink and looked annoyed. "Some guys are gay."
She raised her eyebrows. "Some guys have girls."
He chugged the glass before looking pointedly at her, "shut up." Sore spot, she noted, but she was beginning to like his drinking pace. "This stuff tastes like piss." He frowned at the empty cup then handed it back to her. "I'll have another."
"It's whiskey," she snapped, turning away to refill. "Scotch. But of course you wouldn't know anything about it, martini-boy."
"Hey!" he replied rather defensively. "Not my friggin' fault. She always did the ordering."
Ah , she thought as she handed him another.
Weekdays were slow days, always. She turned around and served a few more people; the bar was starting to empty. When she came back, he was waiting.
"I think you oughtta giv'em to me two atta time," he informed her. His speech was starting to slur. He had obviously never drunk whiskey before.
"You'd better not be driving." She refilled it anyway. "Last one. You're gonna pass out."
He gave her an irritated look. "I dun feel drunk attall."
She took up the polishing cloth once again and turned her head to glance at the clock with the wooden frame. "Just wait." It was ten minutes to midnight.
He cradled his cup and chewed the inside of his lower lip. Tatsuki watched him carefully: he was either thinking very hard or he was trying very hard not to throw up. She was just about to reach for a bucket and he looked up at her. "'M a fucking idiot."
She blinked at his sudden revelation and tried not to laugh. "Her?" she nodded to the phone he was poking at on the table.
He grimaced and drained the cup, which she took to be a yes. "Got promoted t'day." He motioned for her to refill. She took the whiskey glass away and handed him a bottle of beer.
"Congratulations."
He took a sip and winced. "I lik-ed the pissy drink better."
"No more pissy-drink for you."
He choked on a laugh and shrugged. She watched him make his way down half the bottle. "'D think I be good 'nuff fer 'er now." He laughed again, harshly this time. "Tuh- two years."
She waited for him to catch his breath.
"'Ve known 'er fer two years, worked at it fer tha' long." He raised his hand, one finger into the air. He waved it at her, hands a little unsteady. "Two years an' 'uh day too late," he declared.
She glanced back at the clock. Five minutes now.
"An' now," he laughed dryly, "'S engaged. T'a guy she met las'… month…"
Tatsuki put the glasses back onto the rack for the night. She was going to have to close up soon. She turned back around in time to see him slump down onto the table, his left hand sliding slowly off the neck of the bottle. She leaned over and slipped it away from his grasp, and, after a moment, patted his hand.
I. Will. Atone. For this. I promise. *grimace*