[AIM Log] [Sasuke and Sakura] [Someday I'll Be Saturday Night] [Closed]
An hour to go. Well a little more if you worked in all the time it would take to close up the place. Then again, it really was just a matter of locking up. Though there was that one guy that always came in around this time to rent. Never failed. Every fucking Saturday night. Well, it was somewhat impressive, Sasuke mused. Or disturbing. He couldn't quite decide.
But as it stood at the moment, he was alone. The way he preferred it. So far the number of drunken encounters played out at an even two. The first - obviously wasted. He was surprised the guy could still read. Which didn't quite top the second supposed customer who managed to speak French quite fluently. Not all that strange if Sasuke hadn't known for a fact she was full-blown American. All in all, both were rather annoying.
Dark eyes skimmed over the counter, fell dead on his watch. Fifty-eight minutes to go. With a sigh, he settled his head next to the register and stared blankly at the spine of the book he had been reading. A History of Hell. Who needed a history when you felt like you were living it?
Goddamn Ichigo. This was all his fault.
Sakura threw down her pen and dropped her head onto her desk. Her roommate's voice was echoing in her ear -- jeez, you could use a date, yanno -- and, sitting at home on Saturday night, alone and studying again, justified his statement pretty much perfectly.
Taking a deep breath, she decided that even if she wasn't going to be going out on any dates, she was at least going to try to associate with someone of the opposite sex (who wasn't Ichigo.) After all, her patients were going to be women and men, right? She would have to learn to talk to those with a Y chromosome sometime.
Somehow, and later, she wouldn't remember quite how it happened, she found herself outside the video store with two cups of coffee in her hand. Oh God, she thought, peering into the glass. What am I doing?
She nudged the door open with her hip.
A hand reached out, and the book was tugged closer. There was something oddly refreshing about the scent of a freshly purchased book. Even if this one was already starting to smell like that wretched apartment building. [He was quite certain there weren't any words that could do justice to that sort of smell. Not quite vomit-inducing, but coupled with the heat and overall staleness, it was more than enough to make one light-headed]. There was the tell-tale jingle of the door bell, and immediately his head shot up, an irritated scowl crawling onto his lips.
That was until he recognized the figure. As easily as the gesture had climbed onto his face, it was gone. Replaced with something that hovered near shock. Not quite the full-fledged effect of the emotion, but the fact that it managed to show said something. What was she doing here? But it was quickly controlled, pulled back and replaced with that characteristic wall of near-nothingness.
Pushing the book aside, Sasuke cleared his throat. Swallowed those last few remainders of his surprise. Those pieces that threatened to steal the words from his throat.
Uchiha pride would have had him spit out What are you doing here? Instead, he settled for the generic store greeting. "Can I help you?”
Yes. No. Yes. Fuck. Ichigo again, infiltrating her life, leaving pits and pieces of himself behind. She never cursed, not even to herself, before she met him. "I, uh." Sasuke's eyes were cutting into her and she regretted the whole thing. Immediately. She was an idiot. "I remembered, um, that you worked late and - "
-- and instead of embarrassing herself further, she just put the Styrofoam cup onto the countertop. She was pleased to note that her hand wasn't shaking in the least, not at all like her heart, which was threatening to separate itself from the rest of her body.
"Here."
Sasuke eyed the cup. This was the first time someone had really offered him anything of the like. Well, without the hints of sexual favors to come or lacing of alcohol and God knows what else. So, it was with due suspicion that he stared at the white cup set before him.
Then he remembered: this was Sakura. [However, Logic argued, this was med-school Sakura. She probably knows more stuff about drugs and the like than your average club-whore. But there was no way she was that desperate. . . He hoped.] Easing up a little - didn't realize he had stiffened up that much at the offer - he pulled the cup to him.
"Umm. . . thanks," he murmured, shifting his gaze upwards to catch her own. There was a twitch of his lips, the hints of that arrogant smirk rising up. "I didn't realize you knew my work schedule."
Oh. OH. Is that what he thought? That she was some kind of crazy stalker-type person? Oh GOD. "It's, uh, well," she started, taking a sip of her own coffee. She needed it. "On Saturday nights, I like to go out and get coffee from the café. It helps break the monotony of studying. This place is on my way, and, uh, I've just noticed you're here. That's all."
Please don't think I'm a weirdo. Please don't think I'm a weirdo.
Oh, who was she kidding? She was a weirdo.
For the first time in what seemed forever, Sasuke gave a small laugh. Well, more of a half-laugh, shrouded in whisper, but thoroughly written by amusement. If that's how she wanted to play it.
Besides, he pointed out to himself, she's not drunk. And at least she's doing something with her life, unlike half the patrons of this shop.
"Must go out for a lot of coffee then," he said, dipping his head down to smell the contents of the cup. Had to make sure nothing was put into it. And this wasn't some sort of liquor search, but rather one for that other dreaded substance often associated with the drink: sugar. There was nothing worse than sweetened coffee. And any drink for that matter.
"I guess you can say that." She leaned against the counter, free hand splayed across the top. "It serves its purpose."
Keeping her sane, being the main one. Giving her something to do, another. Providing a legitimate excuse to come over here -- yeah.
Her eyes wandered around the store then, as if she'd just noticed she was in a video store. "Interesting place," she noted absently. "Are these all foreign films?"
"Pretty much," came the answer, slightly muffled as he took the first tentative sips of coffee. Perfectly black. He couldn't help but smile behind the Styrofoam lip of his cup at that. Apparently she remembered.
Idly, he wondered what else she recalled about him from high school. Hadn't there at one point been a sheet that went around with all his supposed stats, especially those highly coveted likes and dislikes? Now there was an annoyance to rival last night's flashing, but unlike the show of skin, that had lasted months.
At least now he could look back on it with some sort of amusement. Some. Then again. . . while the manner in which they went about it had changed - offers of drinks, dates, flings, and even the occasional one-night stand - it was still as childish as those high school stat-sheets. Maybe it really wasn't that amusing. With a huff, he turned his attention to the street outside.
Aha. She'd gotten a laugh out of him, and then a smile. Score two for her - until he turned away, sullen, staring out of the glass windows. She didn't think she'd said anything to offend him, and then nearly rolled her eyes - habit. "Maybe I should rent one," she said, glancing up at the titles behind him. "Any recommendations?"
Not that she'd have time to watch it, but she was here, right? She wanted to talk to him - and she did, sort of, if stammering and almost swallowing her tongue three times counted as talking - and she wanted to find out more about him. Was that so wrong? Was any of it?
She almost laughed at herself, she was that ridiculous.
He took another sip, carefully filing through the best sort of reactions. The ones that strayed away from flat-out No's and Look for yourself's. Was interacting with people supposed to be this hard? For all his confidence [at least he never came off as insecure about all of this] he really had no idea what proper human interaction included.
Ok, that was a lie. He knew. But there was a difference between knowing and forcing yourself to act upon that knowledge. He set the cup down next to his book.
"I don't know what you'd like." His tone came off a little colder - had that I don't really care tinge to it - than he had anticipated, wanted even, but at least he didn't say that directly. He was trying after all.
A bit frustrated with his inability to control his own reactions, Sasuke ran a hand through his hair. He could at least attempt to remedy that." We have a lot as far as genre goes. . ."
"Well," she ventured, moving her hand from the counter back to join the other, cradling her coffee cup. "What are your favorites?"
That was unexpected. He had been waiting for something else, some uncertain stumble of words that took stabs at what she thought he would have been interested in. Instead, it was a direct attack.
Sasuke sat back in his chair, eyeing her a bit critically now. Not in the way he tended to stare down most who attempted to get to know him [with their desires rather obscenely plastered all over their faces, their movements]. This was more of a pleasantly-surprised analysis of the woman who stood before him. Didn't remind him of the girl from high-school for once.
But people changed. He knew he had. With a bemused smirk, he sorted through the list of movies he had liked from this place. "The Professional. The Bad Sleep Well. Dangerous Liaisons. Or if you want something more recent, House of Flying Daggers."
Sakura had never heard him say so many words, together, at once. She took it as progress, like some sort of conquest. She met his eyes (they really were a shocking black, bright with amusement, surprise, and other things she had no talent in discerning) and felt her lips turn upward into a crooked smile. This, everything, life was a challenge, and she refused to back down, not for anything. "Is there a limit to how many videos one can rent?" she asked.
A brow quirked upwards. She was actually interested in renting, then. . . Maybe he didn't have her figured out as well as he thought he did.
And there he was once more chided by Reason: a lot of time had passed between high school and now. He had learned, experienced many things in those years. Twisting and spinning his thoughts into new directions. All carefully blanketed by that family name and everything his brother, his father had said to him. While she probably lacked the latter part of it, undoubtedly she was different. Even if slightly.
Killing the surprise in his voice [though he couldn't quite remove the traces of amusement], Sasuke replied as evenly as possibly. "Not really. . . ."
She allowed herself a grin then, and leaned toward him as if she was about to tell him her deepest secret. "I might as well take them all," she said, allowing herself to feel the slightest bit proud that she was able to surprise him. "I won't know what I like if I don't try a couple of things, right?"
Almost flirtatious, almost. It was easier now, later, more comfortable. Still nerve-wracking - the caffeine and adrenaline were combining to quicken her pulse, heartbeat, blood pressure - but do-able, maybe, within her reach. Settling the coffee in front of her, she started to reach into her back pocket. "What do you need? Drivers license? Credit card?"
Sasuke just gave a shake of his head, a little incredulous puff of air slipping over his lips. Was, at least it had made his closing hour a little bit interesting. Not so much that it was her, but that he was able to see things that hadn't been there before. It made her. . . well not quite intriguing, but it was much better than some drunkard struck dumb with the need to flash anything and everything.
And given that they lived in the same building, she was potentially someone he could tolerate daily interactions with. So long as she avoided a few choice areas of his. . . work.
Sliding easily from his chair, he ducked behind the counter, only to pop back up with a paper in hand. Carelessly glided the piece over to her. A standard form. Name. Address. Phone Number. "Fill that out."
Pulling the pen from his book, he set that before her as well. Movements were efficient. Seamless. There was no hesitation with him. "And a driver's license will do."
Not what one would call flirty at all, but well. . . he really didn't have to ask for the license. He knew damn well who she was. Where she lived. Not to mention where to find her parents.
She produced her license and handed it to him. The form was simple enough; she leaned over the counter, hair falling in front of her face, and filled it out. Name. Address. She paused before scribbling in her cell phone number where they asked for a way to reach her by phone. That way, if Sasuke ever wanted to - okay, okay, jumping WAY ahead of ourselves now -
Resting her elbows on the counter, she looked back up. "That should do it."
He took the license, grabbing another pen balanced on the top of the register, and scribbled down the information need from that. ID number. A quick memorization of the address listed there. For comparison purposes. As if he didn't already know.
"Then you're free to rent." He passed the ID back to her, sliding it along the counter until it rested neatly next to the paper. Perfectly aligned with the top edge.
Something should generally be said along with that, right? At least when you knew the other person. Maybe about how stupid it was to do all that filling out of facts when he knew most of them, about the necessity for procedure. Or maybe the suggestion of her stopping by his apartment to return whatever she rented, sparing her the need to come to the store. Even if it was right next door practically.
Instead, he merely hopped into his seat, one fluid motion back. Well, he could have said worse. Or just grunted some sort of primitive response [though that seemed entirely beneath him]. Eyes lingered on her figure. Intense, but not asking anything.
Well. Okay. That was that. "So where do I have to go to find the films?" Sakura turned toward the shelves. If she didn't have a little help, it might take awhile. And, if her watch was correct, the store was going to close in fifteen minutes. "I'm not sure what they're about, so I wouldn't even know where to start."
It occurred to her then that she didn't even know what language these films were in. She nearly smacked herself in the forehead - it would be too much to hope for subtitles.
Yet again, this was not like his usual nights. He actually had to help. Or well, he felt obligated to help her out. Normally he'd just issue that characteristic Uchiha glare. Might throw in a well-used Che for the heck of it before turning back to whatever it was that had his attention before he had been disturbed.
He abandoned his seat fully this time, hopping up and over the opposite side of the counter [could've just opened the latch and let himself through the opening but where was the challenge in that?]. But rather than ask her to come along - it would just slow him down - he quickly weaved his way through the aisles, reaching out to grab the films as they popped into view. It figured he would have those locations, among several others, well-marked in his mind. They were favorites after all.
Having completed his tour, he pulled up beside her. Set the videos, all four, down on top of the counter next to her form. Again, his eyes were upon her, though this time there was the faintest hint of irritation ghosting over the blackness. "That all you wanted?"
No. No. "Yes. Thanks."
Why couldn't she just say what she wanted to say? Why did the words get caught in her throat so easily? Was she afraid? What was the worst that could happen?
"Hey, uh, so." And she swallowed, hard, because she had to, and she felt like choking. "You're closing soon right?"
Jump head first. "Do you want to go back together?"
Sasuke glanced at the wall clock. Five minutes until close. Shifted his gaze back to the pink-haired woman standing by his side. If she knew his schedule, she knew he was closing soon.
Running fingers through his hair, he walked around to the other end of the counter, the dark locks shifting, falling into his sight. Still had yet to answer her question. Did he want to walk back with her? Was he reading too much into that question?
He hated how something so stupid - and not in that lacking intelligence sort of way - could be so loaded with....everything. In the end, did it really matter?
It was up and over the counter again. A few quick steps and he was standing opposite her again. Hands busied themselves with scanning the movies, each one registering with a low beep. Then they snatched the paper and stored it away beneath the register. He'd file it tomorrow. Finally, he settled his attention on her, arrogant smirk claiming his lips as eyes met hers.
"Would be safer for you if I did." So what if it was only a matter of yards to the apartment building. A lot could happen in such a short space. Besides, it made for a convenient excuse.
Safer for me? What-the-hell-ever. She wasn't going to question it - she was far to ecstatic for such a thing. She managed, however, not to do a dance right in the middle of the video store. (It was a near thing, though.) "Sounds like a plan."
Maybe she wasn't such an idiot after all.
"So it does." More of a distracted reply as he set about shutting off the various things around the counter [not to mention the locking of the register drawer, the hiding of money - which was oddly enough a book on gardening] and gathering his own things. Not that there was really all that much to do. Before slipping the messenger bag over his shoulder, he slid the movies toward her. Whether she actually watched them remained to be seen.
There was a jingle of keys, fingers nimbly shifting through the set until the one to the front door was selected. A scan around the counter area was given. Naturally, he'd not missed a step, having successfully shut off all that needed to be shut off, stored away all that needed to be, and taken all that belonged to him. Feeling some sort of satisfaction over a flawless - even if it was relatively laid back as far as store procedures went - routine, he abandoned his post for the night.
"Ready?" Though it wasn't so much of a question as it was a mere courtesy. He was leaving; it was her choice to stay here all night if she wanted. But even so, he waited, watching her from the corner of his eyes until she made a move for the front door, where the last of the lights would be flipped off and the door [as well as the gate that pulled down over it] would be locked.
She stared blankly for a minute before realizing that he was waiting for her. With her videos in one hand and empty coffee cup in the other, she joined him at the front door and waited for him to do whatever it was he had to do before they could leave.
One glance from the corner of her eye before quickly looking away. Ready? Maybe she hadn't been, before. Maybe she was just waiting for this moment. "I'm ready." For whatever.
It was shaping up to be pretty much the best day ever.
And it wasn't over yet.