Inception Fic - Mouth to Mouth (Ariadne-centric)
Title: Mouth to Mouth
Rating: PG
Pairings: Ariadne/Arthur, Arthur/Eames, Ariadne/Cobb, Ariadne/Fischer
Wordcount: 2769
Summary: Written for this prompt on the kink meme. Ariadne gets drunk at Saito's house party and ends up kissing everyone on the team...
---
It is not the first time that she’s been to a party, of course it isn’t, but this one is a little different than the upstanding meet-and-greet-and-drink occasions that were so plentiful during her college career. For one thing, the music is LOUD. For another, the drinks are a hell of a lot stronger than anything she’s had before. And tasty. And she may have had a bit too many…
-Yusuf-
She is sitting on the arm of the couch in Saito’s Tokyo penthouse, gazing out the window at the pretty lights of the city spread out down below. Every now and then they seem to go out of focus, but she doesn’t really mind; it doesn’t hurt the view any. Behind her there is some sort of commotion, a lot of laughter and some cheering. She turns as fast as she can to investigate and finds Yusuf standing quite close by. He smells of champagne and grenadine and he is holding onto two hot pink drinks.
“Hi Ariadne!” he almost shouts over the noise, grinning at her. “Some party, huh?”
She nods. She is drunk, but the feeling is still pleasant and she is happy to see him.
“Here, you should try this!” Yusuf hands her one of the glasses. “I mixed it myself. Careful, it’s got a punch!”
Ariadne takes a sip and is delighted at the fruit taste that lands on her tongue. A moment later she is rocking back from the hard kick of alcohol. She gasps in satisfied surprise. “It’s great, Yusuf!” she cries, and then she wraps an arm around him and kisses him on the jaw, her lips sliding over the oddly-silky line of his goatee. “Thanks! Oh hey, I think that’s Cobb over there.” She hops down from the couch and chirps a goodbye, wending away with the cocktail still clutched in her hand.
Yusuf blinks then wastes no time pulling out his phone. He quickly goes to his email and writes the following message:
Got kissed by Ariadne! Lucky night! I always knew she fancied me.
And sends it to his coworkers.
-Eames and Arthur-
Eames is sitting in a leather armchair on the other side of the room, listening to people he doesn’t know - Saito’s legitimate associates - talk about stocks around him. From what he can gather in the din, and he was quite sharp at economics during his school days, the energy market is doing much better since Fischer dissolved his father’s conglomerate. He supposes this is a good thing, though he will never be out of a job as long as humans want to screw over others. The bigger picture doesn’t really need to factor in.
Suddenly, Eames feels his phone vibrate and checks to see that he has received a message from Yusuf. When he reads it, he laughs out loud.
“What?” asks Arthur, who is sitting on the floor between Eames’s legs. He finds this position undignified, but since he had helped himself to Saito’s excellent supply of sake he is beginning to hate it less. He looks up, curious.
“Look,” says Eames, and passes down the phone.
The point man takes a moment to scan the words and then quirks into a little half-smile. “It’s not that hard to believe, is it?”
“Yes, it is,” says Eames. “But hey! We can ask the lovely lady herself.” He waves to Ariadne, whom he can see coming through the crowd in their general direction. “Hello, pet,” he drawls when she has come within earshot. “Do you have a moment?”
Ariadne says yes, and she comes to stand by the armchair. It is a little weird to see Arthur on the floor, but he is sitting on a carpet (Saito’s favorite carpet? she wonders briefly) and is not the only one down there. There aren’t enough chairs and it has been a few hours since the party started. “Hi, guys!”
“I have a question,” begins Eames, his eyes alight with mischief and enthusiasm. “Did you really kiss Yusuf?”
“Yeah, I guess,” says Ariadne, blushing a little. “But it wasn’t a big deal. Hey, you need to try this!” she declares, and shoves a glass at Eames. “It’s good.” But it seems that she found it so good that she finished it, for there is nothing left but crushed ice and half an inch of pink-tinged water. “Oh.”
“That’s all right,” says Eames magnanimously. “I’ll take your word for-” Then Ariadne is in his lap, pressing her mouth to his in an open kiss with her tongue meeting his. He can taste cherry syrup and Dom Perignon and something else, but she leans away before he can find out what it is. “Um,” sputters Eames, Arthur gaping at his feet, “Well.” He regains himself looking at Ariadne’s sweet face. “You’re right; it was good.”
“Ariadne, are you all right?” gasps Arthur, who is worried for her mental health. She’s never seemed to want Eames before, so why would she kiss him now? Arthur flushes and feels a little indignant.
“Now, don’t worry about it, darling,” says Eames, smirking like the Cheshire cat now. “Not everyone is as good as me at, well, magnetism. You have other talents.” He gestures broadly. “Someday you’ll discover what they are. Someday.”
“Shut up, Mr. Eames,” Arthur all but snaps, and he extricates himself from Eames’s calves, standing up. “Ariadne, I think you’ve probably had a little too much if you’re going for someone like him. Why don’t you let me take you home?”
“Smooth,” cackles Eames.
Ariadne puts a hand to her mouth. “Oh! Oh, Arthur, I’m sorry. I guess that wasn’t really… You should have said you were jealous!” This thought makes perfect sense to Ariadne, who is beginning to think this is a dream simply because of all the fun she’s having.
“What?” gasps Arthur at the same time Eames chokes it out through his laughter.
“Here!” cries Ariadne, and she leans up and kisses Arthur on the chin, a little too short without his help. Her lips are very soft and rather moist, and from this distance Arthur can smell vanilla chapstick.
“Uh,” says Arthur, whose brain has not caught up yet. By the time he is leaning down to reciprocate, however, Ariadne has already stepped back.
“I hafta go put this somewhere,” she sighs in apology, gesturing at her empty glass. “I don’t wanna spill it on Saito’s true love.” With that enigmatic explanation, she is off again, disappearing behind a gaggle of young Japanese women and their salaryman husbands.
Eames is outright guffawing now, and occasionally pointing a finger at Arthur’s slack-jawed expression. “Oh, darling!” he gasps, clutching his stomach. “You should see your face!”
“Shut up, Eames!” Arthur glares at him. “Look, you stay here. I’m going after her.” But Eames’s hand on his sleeve stops him.
“Now, love, you don’t want to be with her tonight. She’s already kissed three blokes in as many minutes!” Though his generous mouth still contains traces of humor, Eames’s eyes are clear and penetrating. “Let me show you a better time, hm?”
And Arthur hesitates just longer than he should.
-Cobb-
Ariadne spots Cobb in the short hallway by the door, leaning against the wall and sort of watching the party with an amused look on his face. She comes over to stand beside him. Some of the giddiness of the drinks is beginning to wear off, leaving her tired. She rests against the wall, too, and lets her eyes fall shut.
“’Evening,” says Cobb, and with the amusement there is concern in his eyes. He has probably noticed the state she’s in.
“Hi,” says Ariadne breathlessly. She blinks up at him.
“Are you all right?” He can’t shake the father in him. Ariadne actually starts to fall for those deep, blue eyes and takes a tiny step forward. Then she remembers Mal and sighs.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” She rubs a hand along her arm, a little nervous. “Where are your kids tonight?”
“Their grandma’s babysitting,” says Cobb, smiling like he is glad she mentioned them. “Look, I know it isn’t really my business, but I think you’ve had a little too much.”
“Yeah, I have.” Ariadne gives him a little smile, just a faint curve of her lips. Then she comes forward and kisses him on the cheek.
“What was that for?” asks Cobb, who looks startled but keeps his cool. He shifts his grip on the neck of his champagne flute.
“I dunno.” Ariadne is as lost as him. “I guess, just for everything you’ve done for me, bringin’ me into this world.”
“Well, you’re welcome,” Cobb replies. He looks faintly troubled now, though his eyes are still kind. “I think you ought to get some sleep.”
“Me too.” She’s a little bit dizzy again, but it’s not from the alcohol.
“Saito will probably let you lie down in one of the bedrooms,” suggests Cobb, gently touching her shoulder. “He’s over there, if you want.”
“Thanks.” She waits a split second for something more to happen, and when it doesn’t she walks away.
-Saito-
“Saito! Mr. Saito,” she calls, feeling awkward when she has to elbow her way into the circle surrounding him. It isn’t a friendly vibe she gets from the well-dressed people she pushes aside, though their angry expressions seem to be mixing with the color of their suits and evening gowns, the color of the drapes and the drinks. She wobbles a little and catches Saito’s arm. When she gets a good grip she keeps it and looks unsteadily up at the millionaire.
“Ari-chan!” chuckles Saito, “It is good to see you here.” He dismisses a few of his more persistent hangers-on with a small hand gesture, bowing shortly when they ‘decide’ they have other places to be. “Are you enjoying yourself?” His accent has thickened with his intoxication and Ariadne tries to sort through the words.
“Actually,” she says, and she is very tired now, “I just want to lie down a little…” She holds him tighter as the music picks up. It seems much too loud.
“Ah, sumimasen, Ari-chan,” Saito demurs, “Please forgive my lapse in hospitality.” He lays a hand over hers on his arm and shoos away the rest of his group. “Allow me to share my home with you.” He leads her away from the bar, through what seems an interminable amount of guests, until they reach a closed door. Saito opens it to reveal a guest room which, though small compared to the rest of the suite, would still rival the best hotels in the world for comfort. It is furnished in an elegant mixture of East and West, though Ariadne is glad to see there is a four-poster bed. It isn’t that she has anything against futons, she just needs that familiarity right now.
“Thank you so much,” she sighs as Saito half-carries her to the bed. She sits down wearily with his guidance and starts to pull off her jacket.
“You are most welcome,” says Saito, though the words are a bit strangled. He closes his eyes as she pulls out her hair-tie, too. “Please sleep well, Ariadne-san.” He bows, and only looks when he feels her touch against his shoulder.
“Goodnight,” Ariadne whispers, exhausted, and she lets her lips brush his forehead. A lock of her hair swings forward to rest against his temple as she does and Saito’s mouth falls open.
“Ariadne-san?” he questions when the kiss has ended, but she is not listening, intent on curling up under the covers. The soft rhythm of her breathing tells him that she is asleep. He sighs. “Oyasuminasai,” he murmurs, raising a hand to where he can still feel the touch. He closes the door softly behind him when he leaves, though he spares one last glance at the bed beforehand.
-Fischer-
All traces of the party the night before are gone from the suite and Robert can’t but admire the Japanese work ethic. Doubtless, if he had hosted such a bash the house would be unusable for days. He toes off his shoes, which are Italian leather, and leaves them by the door, proceeding into the house proper in Armani and striped socks.
“Mr. Saito?” he calls softly, stepping into the living area of the suite. He ignores a brief flashback of a dancing crowd and Jello shots and focuses instead on the clean white carpet. It is almost blinding in the early light from the bay windows and he blinks. He isn’t exactly hungover, he tells himself. Not exactly. He clutches his briefcase and glances at his watch. It is nine o’clock. He is still early for his meeting, but he’s becoming slightly unnerved at the lack of response. “Uh, Mr. Saito?”
A door on the other side of the room opens, but it is not Saito Hideki who comes out but a young woman in rumpled clothes. She has brunette hair that falls past her shoulders and a lovely energy though it must be early for her, too. She shuts the door behind her and turns around. When Robert sees her face, his mouth goes dry.
She is… beautiful.
“Oh, uh,” she freezes when she catches sight of him. He realizes where she must have been, coming from a bedroom, and he flushes.
“I didn’t mean to, ah, interrupt,” he manages, face flaming. A stray part of him congratulates Saito on his luck.
“What?” the girl asks, pale, and then she jolts. “No! No, it’s not what you think.” She has colored now, too. “I just stayed the night after the party. I was indulging, ah, too much, that is, hm.” She stops talking, but her hands play incessantly with her scarf. Her gaze slides to the side.
“Hey, do I know you?” Robert asks suddenly, because something about her is very familiar, like he met her a long time ago.
“Nope! Not at all!” she cries, giggling a little, anxious. “We’ve never met before. Never.”
“Oh. Are you sure?” Roberts sets down his briefcase by the wall and walks over hesitantly. She doesn’t move away, and he knows she isn’t scared of him, but she doesn’t look too happy as he closes the distance. It isn’t long before he is close enough to touch her, but he holds back, unsure. She looks up at him with an unreadable look in her eyes.
“Mr. Fischer,” she finally starts.
“No, you can me Robert,” he says, and it feels right though he hasn’t flirted in months. The funeral had rather put him off, and he had found himself actually grieving.
“Then, Robert,” she says, but she hesitates.
It seems very easy to lean over and kiss her, so he does. He keeps it chaste and brief, because he likes her and doesn’t want her to hit him. She tastes very much like mint, but there is a hint of vanilla on the edge of it. When he draws back he is breathless, though the whole thing takes less than a second, and she is panting a little, too.
“Ah, Mr. Fischer, welcome,” says Saito, coming out of another hallway with an indulgent smile on his face. Robert steps back quickly, almost tripping over himself in his haste.
“Th-thank you,” he murmurs, and he wants to tug on his collar because he is so hot from the flush. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. Uh, o- ojamashimasu.”
Saito laughs. “Please, relax Mr. Fischer. It is I who should be saying so.” He shoots the girl a look that is so full of meaning that Robert can’t hope to decipher it. Warning? Amusement? Hope? Jealousy? He is lost in its complexity. “The meeting room is right through this door. Please join me when you are finished with Ms. Ariadne.”
“Yes, I will,” he says, glad that he has not made a bad impression. He gives a short bow because it feels appropriate and watches Saito leave. Then he looks back at Ariadne. “That’s a pretty name,” he says.
“Thank you,” she says. The uncertainty is gone, he notices ruefully. She had gathered herself and is now headed out.
“Will I see you again?” he asks a trifle desperately, because he has never felt this way before. She has already slipped on her flats and now pauses with her hand on the doorknob.
“I- I don’t know.” She shrugs a shoulder and shifts from foot to foot. “Maybe.”
It might be wishful thinking when he thinks she says “I hope so,” but he grins at her back until she shuts the door behind her.
---
So, enjoy! :) Comments and crits are welcome.
Rating: PG
Pairings: Ariadne/Arthur, Arthur/Eames, Ariadne/Cobb, Ariadne/Fischer
Wordcount: 2769
Summary: Written for this prompt on the kink meme. Ariadne gets drunk at Saito's house party and ends up kissing everyone on the team...
---
It is not the first time that she’s been to a party, of course it isn’t, but this one is a little different than the upstanding meet-and-greet-and-drink occasions that were so plentiful during her college career. For one thing, the music is LOUD. For another, the drinks are a hell of a lot stronger than anything she’s had before. And tasty. And she may have had a bit too many…
-Yusuf-
She is sitting on the arm of the couch in Saito’s Tokyo penthouse, gazing out the window at the pretty lights of the city spread out down below. Every now and then they seem to go out of focus, but she doesn’t really mind; it doesn’t hurt the view any. Behind her there is some sort of commotion, a lot of laughter and some cheering. She turns as fast as she can to investigate and finds Yusuf standing quite close by. He smells of champagne and grenadine and he is holding onto two hot pink drinks.
“Hi Ariadne!” he almost shouts over the noise, grinning at her. “Some party, huh?”
She nods. She is drunk, but the feeling is still pleasant and she is happy to see him.
“Here, you should try this!” Yusuf hands her one of the glasses. “I mixed it myself. Careful, it’s got a punch!”
Ariadne takes a sip and is delighted at the fruit taste that lands on her tongue. A moment later she is rocking back from the hard kick of alcohol. She gasps in satisfied surprise. “It’s great, Yusuf!” she cries, and then she wraps an arm around him and kisses him on the jaw, her lips sliding over the oddly-silky line of his goatee. “Thanks! Oh hey, I think that’s Cobb over there.” She hops down from the couch and chirps a goodbye, wending away with the cocktail still clutched in her hand.
Yusuf blinks then wastes no time pulling out his phone. He quickly goes to his email and writes the following message:
Got kissed by Ariadne! Lucky night! I always knew she fancied me.
And sends it to his coworkers.
-Eames and Arthur-
Eames is sitting in a leather armchair on the other side of the room, listening to people he doesn’t know - Saito’s legitimate associates - talk about stocks around him. From what he can gather in the din, and he was quite sharp at economics during his school days, the energy market is doing much better since Fischer dissolved his father’s conglomerate. He supposes this is a good thing, though he will never be out of a job as long as humans want to screw over others. The bigger picture doesn’t really need to factor in.
Suddenly, Eames feels his phone vibrate and checks to see that he has received a message from Yusuf. When he reads it, he laughs out loud.
“What?” asks Arthur, who is sitting on the floor between Eames’s legs. He finds this position undignified, but since he had helped himself to Saito’s excellent supply of sake he is beginning to hate it less. He looks up, curious.
“Look,” says Eames, and passes down the phone.
The point man takes a moment to scan the words and then quirks into a little half-smile. “It’s not that hard to believe, is it?”
“Yes, it is,” says Eames. “But hey! We can ask the lovely lady herself.” He waves to Ariadne, whom he can see coming through the crowd in their general direction. “Hello, pet,” he drawls when she has come within earshot. “Do you have a moment?”
Ariadne says yes, and she comes to stand by the armchair. It is a little weird to see Arthur on the floor, but he is sitting on a carpet (Saito’s favorite carpet? she wonders briefly) and is not the only one down there. There aren’t enough chairs and it has been a few hours since the party started. “Hi, guys!”
“I have a question,” begins Eames, his eyes alight with mischief and enthusiasm. “Did you really kiss Yusuf?”
“Yeah, I guess,” says Ariadne, blushing a little. “But it wasn’t a big deal. Hey, you need to try this!” she declares, and shoves a glass at Eames. “It’s good.” But it seems that she found it so good that she finished it, for there is nothing left but crushed ice and half an inch of pink-tinged water. “Oh.”
“That’s all right,” says Eames magnanimously. “I’ll take your word for-” Then Ariadne is in his lap, pressing her mouth to his in an open kiss with her tongue meeting his. He can taste cherry syrup and Dom Perignon and something else, but she leans away before he can find out what it is. “Um,” sputters Eames, Arthur gaping at his feet, “Well.” He regains himself looking at Ariadne’s sweet face. “You’re right; it was good.”
“Ariadne, are you all right?” gasps Arthur, who is worried for her mental health. She’s never seemed to want Eames before, so why would she kiss him now? Arthur flushes and feels a little indignant.
“Now, don’t worry about it, darling,” says Eames, smirking like the Cheshire cat now. “Not everyone is as good as me at, well, magnetism. You have other talents.” He gestures broadly. “Someday you’ll discover what they are. Someday.”
“Shut up, Mr. Eames,” Arthur all but snaps, and he extricates himself from Eames’s calves, standing up. “Ariadne, I think you’ve probably had a little too much if you’re going for someone like him. Why don’t you let me take you home?”
“Smooth,” cackles Eames.
Ariadne puts a hand to her mouth. “Oh! Oh, Arthur, I’m sorry. I guess that wasn’t really… You should have said you were jealous!” This thought makes perfect sense to Ariadne, who is beginning to think this is a dream simply because of all the fun she’s having.
“What?” gasps Arthur at the same time Eames chokes it out through his laughter.
“Here!” cries Ariadne, and she leans up and kisses Arthur on the chin, a little too short without his help. Her lips are very soft and rather moist, and from this distance Arthur can smell vanilla chapstick.
“Uh,” says Arthur, whose brain has not caught up yet. By the time he is leaning down to reciprocate, however, Ariadne has already stepped back.
“I hafta go put this somewhere,” she sighs in apology, gesturing at her empty glass. “I don’t wanna spill it on Saito’s true love.” With that enigmatic explanation, she is off again, disappearing behind a gaggle of young Japanese women and their salaryman husbands.
Eames is outright guffawing now, and occasionally pointing a finger at Arthur’s slack-jawed expression. “Oh, darling!” he gasps, clutching his stomach. “You should see your face!”
“Shut up, Eames!” Arthur glares at him. “Look, you stay here. I’m going after her.” But Eames’s hand on his sleeve stops him.
“Now, love, you don’t want to be with her tonight. She’s already kissed three blokes in as many minutes!” Though his generous mouth still contains traces of humor, Eames’s eyes are clear and penetrating. “Let me show you a better time, hm?”
And Arthur hesitates just longer than he should.
-Cobb-
Ariadne spots Cobb in the short hallway by the door, leaning against the wall and sort of watching the party with an amused look on his face. She comes over to stand beside him. Some of the giddiness of the drinks is beginning to wear off, leaving her tired. She rests against the wall, too, and lets her eyes fall shut.
“’Evening,” says Cobb, and with the amusement there is concern in his eyes. He has probably noticed the state she’s in.
“Hi,” says Ariadne breathlessly. She blinks up at him.
“Are you all right?” He can’t shake the father in him. Ariadne actually starts to fall for those deep, blue eyes and takes a tiny step forward. Then she remembers Mal and sighs.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” She rubs a hand along her arm, a little nervous. “Where are your kids tonight?”
“Their grandma’s babysitting,” says Cobb, smiling like he is glad she mentioned them. “Look, I know it isn’t really my business, but I think you’ve had a little too much.”
“Yeah, I have.” Ariadne gives him a little smile, just a faint curve of her lips. Then she comes forward and kisses him on the cheek.
“What was that for?” asks Cobb, who looks startled but keeps his cool. He shifts his grip on the neck of his champagne flute.
“I dunno.” Ariadne is as lost as him. “I guess, just for everything you’ve done for me, bringin’ me into this world.”
“Well, you’re welcome,” Cobb replies. He looks faintly troubled now, though his eyes are still kind. “I think you ought to get some sleep.”
“Me too.” She’s a little bit dizzy again, but it’s not from the alcohol.
“Saito will probably let you lie down in one of the bedrooms,” suggests Cobb, gently touching her shoulder. “He’s over there, if you want.”
“Thanks.” She waits a split second for something more to happen, and when it doesn’t she walks away.
-Saito-
“Saito! Mr. Saito,” she calls, feeling awkward when she has to elbow her way into the circle surrounding him. It isn’t a friendly vibe she gets from the well-dressed people she pushes aside, though their angry expressions seem to be mixing with the color of their suits and evening gowns, the color of the drapes and the drinks. She wobbles a little and catches Saito’s arm. When she gets a good grip she keeps it and looks unsteadily up at the millionaire.
“Ari-chan!” chuckles Saito, “It is good to see you here.” He dismisses a few of his more persistent hangers-on with a small hand gesture, bowing shortly when they ‘decide’ they have other places to be. “Are you enjoying yourself?” His accent has thickened with his intoxication and Ariadne tries to sort through the words.
“Actually,” she says, and she is very tired now, “I just want to lie down a little…” She holds him tighter as the music picks up. It seems much too loud.
“Ah, sumimasen, Ari-chan,” Saito demurs, “Please forgive my lapse in hospitality.” He lays a hand over hers on his arm and shoos away the rest of his group. “Allow me to share my home with you.” He leads her away from the bar, through what seems an interminable amount of guests, until they reach a closed door. Saito opens it to reveal a guest room which, though small compared to the rest of the suite, would still rival the best hotels in the world for comfort. It is furnished in an elegant mixture of East and West, though Ariadne is glad to see there is a four-poster bed. It isn’t that she has anything against futons, she just needs that familiarity right now.
“Thank you so much,” she sighs as Saito half-carries her to the bed. She sits down wearily with his guidance and starts to pull off her jacket.
“You are most welcome,” says Saito, though the words are a bit strangled. He closes his eyes as she pulls out her hair-tie, too. “Please sleep well, Ariadne-san.” He bows, and only looks when he feels her touch against his shoulder.
“Goodnight,” Ariadne whispers, exhausted, and she lets her lips brush his forehead. A lock of her hair swings forward to rest against his temple as she does and Saito’s mouth falls open.
“Ariadne-san?” he questions when the kiss has ended, but she is not listening, intent on curling up under the covers. The soft rhythm of her breathing tells him that she is asleep. He sighs. “Oyasuminasai,” he murmurs, raising a hand to where he can still feel the touch. He closes the door softly behind him when he leaves, though he spares one last glance at the bed beforehand.
-Fischer-
All traces of the party the night before are gone from the suite and Robert can’t but admire the Japanese work ethic. Doubtless, if he had hosted such a bash the house would be unusable for days. He toes off his shoes, which are Italian leather, and leaves them by the door, proceeding into the house proper in Armani and striped socks.
“Mr. Saito?” he calls softly, stepping into the living area of the suite. He ignores a brief flashback of a dancing crowd and Jello shots and focuses instead on the clean white carpet. It is almost blinding in the early light from the bay windows and he blinks. He isn’t exactly hungover, he tells himself. Not exactly. He clutches his briefcase and glances at his watch. It is nine o’clock. He is still early for his meeting, but he’s becoming slightly unnerved at the lack of response. “Uh, Mr. Saito?”
A door on the other side of the room opens, but it is not Saito Hideki who comes out but a young woman in rumpled clothes. She has brunette hair that falls past her shoulders and a lovely energy though it must be early for her, too. She shuts the door behind her and turns around. When Robert sees her face, his mouth goes dry.
She is… beautiful.
“Oh, uh,” she freezes when she catches sight of him. He realizes where she must have been, coming from a bedroom, and he flushes.
“I didn’t mean to, ah, interrupt,” he manages, face flaming. A stray part of him congratulates Saito on his luck.
“What?” the girl asks, pale, and then she jolts. “No! No, it’s not what you think.” She has colored now, too. “I just stayed the night after the party. I was indulging, ah, too much, that is, hm.” She stops talking, but her hands play incessantly with her scarf. Her gaze slides to the side.
“Hey, do I know you?” Robert asks suddenly, because something about her is very familiar, like he met her a long time ago.
“Nope! Not at all!” she cries, giggling a little, anxious. “We’ve never met before. Never.”
“Oh. Are you sure?” Roberts sets down his briefcase by the wall and walks over hesitantly. She doesn’t move away, and he knows she isn’t scared of him, but she doesn’t look too happy as he closes the distance. It isn’t long before he is close enough to touch her, but he holds back, unsure. She looks up at him with an unreadable look in her eyes.
“Mr. Fischer,” she finally starts.
“No, you can me Robert,” he says, and it feels right though he hasn’t flirted in months. The funeral had rather put him off, and he had found himself actually grieving.
“Then, Robert,” she says, but she hesitates.
It seems very easy to lean over and kiss her, so he does. He keeps it chaste and brief, because he likes her and doesn’t want her to hit him. She tastes very much like mint, but there is a hint of vanilla on the edge of it. When he draws back he is breathless, though the whole thing takes less than a second, and she is panting a little, too.
“Ah, Mr. Fischer, welcome,” says Saito, coming out of another hallway with an indulgent smile on his face. Robert steps back quickly, almost tripping over himself in his haste.
“Th-thank you,” he murmurs, and he wants to tug on his collar because he is so hot from the flush. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. Uh, o- ojamashimasu.”
Saito laughs. “Please, relax Mr. Fischer. It is I who should be saying so.” He shoots the girl a look that is so full of meaning that Robert can’t hope to decipher it. Warning? Amusement? Hope? Jealousy? He is lost in its complexity. “The meeting room is right through this door. Please join me when you are finished with Ms. Ariadne.”
“Yes, I will,” he says, glad that he has not made a bad impression. He gives a short bow because it feels appropriate and watches Saito leave. Then he looks back at Ariadne. “That’s a pretty name,” he says.
“Thank you,” she says. The uncertainty is gone, he notices ruefully. She had gathered herself and is now headed out.
“Will I see you again?” he asks a trifle desperately, because he has never felt this way before. She has already slipped on her flats and now pauses with her hand on the doorknob.
“I- I don’t know.” She shrugs a shoulder and shifts from foot to foot. “Maybe.”
It might be wishful thinking when he thinks she says “I hope so,” but he grins at her back until she shuts the door behind her.
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So, enjoy! :) Comments and crits are welcome.