Chocolate Fic for phrenk, Part One
To: phrenk
From: cupid_johnny
Title: Order Up
Pairing: Sasakura Ryu/Kurushima Miwa (Bartender)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A series of vignettes charting the course of Ryu and Miwa's relationship. Set post-series and contains spoilers.
A/N: Hello Miss phrenk, I was thrilled to receive you as my assignment! You gave so many fun pairings, but somehow Bartender Aiba with his Bartender Aiba Face won the day. This pairing needs ALL THE FIC anyhow. I really hope you will enjoy!
Old Fashioned
2 oz bourbon whiskey
2 dashes Angostura bitters
1 splash water
1 tsp sugar
1 maraschino cherry
1 orange wedge
Mix sugar, water and angostura bitters in an old-fashioned glass. Drop in a cherry and an orange wedge. Muddle into a paste using a muddler or the back end of a spoon. Pour in bourbon, fill with ice cubes, and stir.
Clutching the gift bag in her gloved fingers, Kurushima Miwa decided that this would be the very last year she put herself through this. The dessert chef had spent the entire month of January offering to give Miwa a hand to thank her for his recent pay bump, but she had insisted on working by herself. With the busy holiday over and the mid-January summit meeting guests gone, she stayed in the Hotel Cardinal's kitchens night after night stirring and mixing and grumbling to herself until she came up with something halfway edible. This was the third year of this, the third year making Valentine chocolates for someone who didn't appreciate them. And it would be the last.
She had convinced herself to give up in December when she had purposefully and deliberately arranged her schedule so she had the 24th free. The 24th came, the 24th went, and Kurushima Miwa had sat in her lonely room munching on the holiday-themed fried chicken Uncle had made for her at the Sakura Snack Shop. Bar Eden Hall had apparently been booked on the 24th for some holiday party, its owner and chief bartender mixing gin and tonics all night long while Miwa munched her fried heart attack.
Three years of her life she had spent pining away for the world's most oblivious man. Valentine's chocolate, offers of hotel discounts in low season, birthday gifts. Miwa had done absolutely everything she could think to do that didn't involve stripping down to her skivvies and asking Sasakura-san to do a body shot of something off of her soft tummy. She just wasn't that type of girl. And now she'd gone three years and still she was "Miwa-san" and even worse, "Kurushima-san" the customer when she paid a visit to Bar Eden Hall.
Miwa had always thought of herself as a logical and practical person. If she wasn't, then her grandfather wouldn't have left the Hotel Cardinal in her charge. She was nearing thirty, and she was one of the youngest hotel managers in Japan. She ran a tight ship, kept a competent staff, and followed in her grandfather's example to ensure all guests had a world-class, personalized, and delightful stay. But somehow she'd never been able to turn on that switch in her personal life.
Months and now years had gone by and still there'd been no confession from Sasakura Ryu, who seemed to have the emotional understanding of a pet rock. Sure he understood his customers. He could make the perfect drink to match their mood, could plop down some kind of psychological analysis in a highball glass. So how come after all this time he couldn't read her the way he read some random guy off the street? How many batches of chocolate did she need to make? How many hints did she have to drop?
Because if he really and truly wasn't interested he would have said something by now. If he really and truly wasn't interested in Miwa he would have taken the time to get a girlfriend or a boyfriend or a sex friend or something by now. If he really and truly wasn't interested in Miwa, he wouldn't hang out with her all the time. Three years. Three long, agonizing years, and Miwa was at the end of her rope. This was her last batch of Valentine chocolates for Sasakura Ryu. Her last ditch effort to confess without actually opening her mouth and confessing. Because even though Miwa was a logical and practical person, she was a little old-fashioned when it came to love. She wanted to be confessed to. She'd put in three years of effort, and she wasn't going to be the one to confess first.
But she loved him, she knew she did. She wouldn't spend three years of her life pining for someone she didn't love. There was the physical that had drawn her in from the start - the model good looks and the shine in his eyes when he slid a glass across to you. And then there was the more than physical, the internal drive that pushed him to be better and better, to put his customers first, to provide a comfortable place for them. The kindness in him, the gentleness. No matter how many times she'd gone ahead and gotten drunk on his watch, he'd never once taken advantage of her. He clearly respected her and cared about her, but Miwa had decided that she needed more than that. She wanted to be loved, and Sasakura Ryu's time was up.
She tightened her grip on the gift bag and pushed open the door to Bar Eden Hall. Bar Lapin, Ryu-san's old haunt, had taken in all sorts of customers, but Eden Hall was nestled in the middle of a Marunouchi side street, snug between a jewelry shop and a place that sold fancy ballpoint pens. Ryu's customers mostly came from the high-rises and corporate headquarters in the neighborhood and the occasional wanderer from Tokyo Station. They were suit-wearing smokers who liked martinis but couldn't afford or didn't care for the nightlife Ginza had to offer just to the south.
Miwa strode through the bar as confidently as she could, happy for the warmth inside. It had been a chilly walk from the Metro stop, and it was shaking her resolve all the more. She spotted Ryu in his usual place, shaker in his hands. He caught her eye and gave her one of those "I see you but I can't talk" smiles, the smiles that had been her undoing for so damn long now. She slid out of her coat and tucked herself into one of the small, unoccupied booths opposite the bar. From here she could watch him work. From here she would wait.
She settled the gift bag and her purse beside her, exhaling a breath. She was handing over the chocolates, and then it was up to him. There was White Day a month away, but she wasn't giving him the benefit of four more weeks. He didn't get any more time. Three years was enough. If he did nothing, Miwa had resolved to finally dislodge him from the romance category in her heart and plant him firmly in the friendship category.
She would start over. She would reassess. She would maybe, probably, possibly go ahead and join that online dating community Eri-chan had been talking about. Whenever she met up for dinner or drinks with her former co-workers from Tokyo Wonder Night, Miwa's sad dating life became the topic of conversation all too often. "A smart, professional woman deserves more, Miwa," they were always telling her before going on to complain about the "creeps" who sent them messages on the dating site. If tonight didn't go her way, soon Miwa would join their ranks and have a few creeps of her own to wade through before hopefully finding someone.
Ryu's new hire, Danny-kun, stopped over at her table, greeting her with a smile and a cocktail napkin. He'd been hired just before the holiday rush, and Miwa was certain she'd spent more time speaking with him at Eden Hall than Ryu lately. He was Australian, fresh out of college, and in Japan to teach English. Working part time at Eden Hall was Danny's way of getting better at Japanese in exchange.
"Miwa-san, hello, how are you?" he said in his cheerful voice. "Happy Valentine's Day!"
She wanted to give him a thump for the noisy reminder of what day it was, but he was just being nice and at least he hadn't commented on her arriving by herself. She opened her purse, sliding out a small bundle tied with red ribbon. Danny's boss wasn't the only one getting a treat today - she'd made some for the bartenders at Bar Lapin too and had delivered them the previous night, and she had another small bundle for Kuzuhara-san back at the hotel.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Danny," she said quietly, handing him the chocolates. "I'll just have a whiskey sour please."
She knew very well that Danny had a girlfriend, but he beamed from ear to ear at her gift. "Wow! Thank you, Miwa-san!"
He jogged off with her order, and Miwa tried not to look too smug as Danny went up to the bar and immediately bragged to Ryu about what she'd brought him. Sure, it was manipulative and mean on Miwa's part, knowing how someone like Danny would behave, but Miwa hadn't gotten far playing fair all these years. It was time for some psychological intimidation.
She watched Danny wiggle the little bundle of chocolates in his boss' face, smiling all the while. What was that? Had there been a twitch? A flash of something? The lighting in Eden Hall had always been a bit dim and the smoke never helped. But had Sasakura Ryu just had some sort of physical reaction to seeing Miwa-made chocolates in Danny's hand?
Ryu turned away, suddenly busying himself with the arrangement of some bottles behind the bar. Danny himself was given the privilege of making her whiskey sour, and Miwa worried that she'd gone too far. She took out her iPad and went through some work stuff, Danny making her another whiskey sour an hour later while she waited for the end of the night. She drank slowly, savoring the taste but sensing something missing. It was a perfectly serviceable drink, but Sasakura Ryu hadn't made it. There was just something different when he did it.
It had already been after 10:00 PM when she'd entered Eden Hall, and some of the regulars started ducking out to catch the last trains. Danny was dismissed just before midnight, saying one final English "thank you!" to Miwa as he headed out the door. As the number of customers dwindled and the ice cubes melted in her glass, she itched to take the gift bag and run to the bar with it, shoving it at him and running away. She never felt this uncomfortable in Ryu's bar. Perhaps it was her self-imposed ticking time bomb that was making her so nervous. She did her best to get lost in work, distracting herself with the website for a hotel management conference she planned to attend in May.
She jumped when a new cocktail napkin was placed down on her table and soon followed with a new glass. Another whiskey sour was presented, and she looked up to see Sasakura Ryu. The time on her iPad said 1:30 AM - she'd somehow been surfing the web and staring at the conference pages for over an hour. She looked around, seeing that she was the only customer remaining.
"It looks different," she mumbled, staring at the glass he'd brought her.
"It is," he said, still standing beside her table almost stiffly. "It's a Ward 8, a variant on whiskey sour. It has lemon and orange juice plus grenadine. Traditionally they made it with rye whiskey, but I know Miwa-san prefers Bourbon anyhow."
She took a sip, enjoying the different sweetness from usual. She told him so, and he bowed politely. No matter what, he'd always known what tastes she liked.
She turned her iPad off, slumping back a bit in her booth. "Sit down," she told him, "unless you have to clean up."
He raised an eyebrow. "You sound serious."
"It's not serious," she lied, waving her hand at him. He took a seat, looking prim and proper as usual in his vest and tie, his big brown eyes in the happy sort of drowsiness they took on after another successful evening.
She fumbled with the bag, nearly toppling it as she pulled it up from the booth and slid it across the table to him.
"Ah, you did make me some," he said, and there was definitely a relieved sound to his voice. As though she'd only make chocolates for his employee and skip him entirely. She was still here at the end of the night waiting for him, the idiot. "Thank you."
She tapped her foot nervously. This was it. This was the time. The other times she'd made him chocolate, they'd been little pieces and morsels, some made with caramel. This time she'd gone out of her way. Only the chocolates in Ryu's gift box were heart-shaped. It was a pretty bold move, at least for someone like Miwa, but it couldn't count as a confession. Not really.
He untied the ribbon and pulled the box from the bag. She'd decorated it simply - To Sasakura-san, From Miwa. He lifted the lid, and she heard his breath catch. She held her own, uncertain what to do or say, so she did and said nothing. Instead she sat there, heart racing, wondering if he was going to eat one and smile like he usually did without saying anything. This was his last chance, whether he knew it or not. These were potentially his last Valentine chocolates.
When he finally spoke, he sounded almost proud. "There's a lot more in here than what Danny-kun got."
Miwa exhaled almost angrily. Of course there are, you oaf! She wanted to reach across the table and throttle him. There's always more for you, she wanted to screech at him. There have always been more for you.
She watched him pick up one of the heart chocolates, sizing it up with a grin before shoving it in his mouth. Miwa's gaze lingered a little too long on his finger as he sucked a bit of the chocolate off. How many nights had she spent dreaming of those hands, of those fingers with the calluses from his shaker? The feeling of that hand on her face, those fingers sliding down, down, down...
"Miwa-san?"
"Hmm?" she murmured, feeling her face go hot.
Ryu pulled another chocolate from the box and popped it in his mouth. "These are the best you've made yet, thank you so much," he said while chewing.
"Well, I'm glad you think so," she replied, hands under the table squeezing her knees to try and keep them from shaking. "I did the best I could."
"You've looked after me for a long time," he muttered a few moments later, fingers digging in the box for yet another piece.
"Huh?"
"I said...I said that Miwa-san has always looked after me."
"Oh," she replied, something much more than butterflies flying around in her stomach. Maybe she wouldn't have to join that dating site. Maybe she wouldn't be waiting much longer. Maybe she wouldn't have to give up on him. She found herself shakily reaching for the drink he'd made her, gulping it down quickly.
"Does Miwa-san like me?"
She stopped abruptly, mid-sip, eyes widening. No, no he wasn't allowed to do it this way! He wasn't supposed to ask her! He was supposed to shyly tell her how much he cared about her too, how his feelings for her overwhelmed him. How these chocolates, these perfect chocolates, reminded him of how much she'd always cared for him, and wasn't it time he told her he felt the same?
Why wouldn't he just say what HE felt for once?!
Hopeless. He was completely and utterly hopeless. He let out a little grunt of surprise as she yanked the box of chocolates away from him and put the lid back on. She shoved it in the purse with her iPad, standing up abruptly from the table.
"Wait, what did I say?"
She grabbed her coat with shaking hands, putting it on and not bothering to zip it or even put on her earmuffs. Miwa felt tears pricking her eyes. She'd been too patient. She'd waited too long. She couldn't do this any longer. She grabbed her heavy bag and pulled it from the booth, hurrying away.
"Miwa-san. Hey Miwa-san!"
She stomped furiously out of Bar Eden Hall, out into the nearly deserted street. Usually they walked home together when she stayed late to wait for him, but tonight she felt like coughing up the money for a taxi.
Miwa was halfway to the nearest main street when she heard him running, his shoes clomp clomping on the pavement behind her.
"Miwa!"
She considered speeding up, but she was so startled by him calling out her name and only her name that she halted in her tracks, holding her bag close.
"Miwa!" he called again, finally catching up. He patted her on the shoulder. "Hey, hey come on."
She turned halfway, seeing his shirt sleeves. It was very cold out, and he hadn't even bothered with a coat. "You'll get hypothermia," she muttered. "Go back inside."
"What did I do wrong?" he asked, and there was none of his usual calm. He was always so calm and collected, it was the most stable thing about him. He hadn't lost his temper in her presence in years now. "What did I do?"
She shut her eyes, shivering in the cold. If she was cold in her coat, he had to be freezing standing out here with towering skyscrapers all around them. But he wouldn't move. "I've given you chocolate for three years, you know."
"It's good," he assured her, patting her shoulder again. "I told you it was good, I wouldn't lie to make you feel better."
"You do know what it means when I make you chocolates, don't you?"
He was quiet. She could have sworn she heard the gears in his head turning, or maybe it was just his teeth chattering.
She took his silence as continued proof of his ignorance...or disinterest. She pulled the chocolate box out of her bag, handing it back. "I shouldn't have taken them back. I'm sorry, please enjoy the rest of them. Have a good night."
"Wait," he said, grabbing hold of her arm and refusing to let her go.
"I'm tired," she said, wondering if he could even understand just how tired she truly was. "I'm tired and I'm going home. I have a lot of work to do."
He held her tighter. "The Ward 8, I made it for you because it's a little sweeter. Because it's Valentine's Day."
She turned slightly, worried that the tear tracks on her cheeks were visible under the street lights. He was looking at her more seriously than he ever had. She couldn't remember him looking at her this seriously since she'd lost her grandfather.
"Miwa-san has always looked out for me. Always. I know you're busy, but there's so many nights that I look up and see you there. Even when you don't have to be there, you come. You come and you support Eden Hall, and before that Lapin. And I guess I take it for granted, I have all this time. I look up and you being there somehow became an expectation, not a privilege." He inclined his head. "I'm sorry."
She gave up on holding in any more tears. They flowed freely now, and she chuckled quietly to herself, sniffling. After three years, he was finally noticing her the way she wanted him to.
"Show up again. Tomorrow or next week or a month from now. Show up," he said earnestly. "You're the most important customer I'll ever have. Eden Hall needs you. And...and so do I."
Miwa was shocked, totally shocked to hear his honest words, and when she looked up he was smiling down at her, looking sheepish. "Of course I'll show up," she replied, shivering a little.
"I'm closing early on Sunday, 7 PM," he said quietly. "I was going to do inventory, but maybe...maybe we could...get something to eat. And...it would be my treat."
They'd gone Dutch on almost every meal they'd ever had. This was indeed a first. It had taken a dramatic flight from Eden Hall, much more dramatic than she'd have liked, but he'd just asked her out. After three years there was forward momentum. He did care. As more than a friend, he did care.
She nodded. "Sunday at 7:00."
He nodded in return, rubbing his shirt-sleeves. "I should...I should probably..."
She gave him a shove. "Go already. Go before you catch a cold!"
Miwa made it all the way to the taxi stand. She made it all the way through the ride home. She made it all the way to her rooms above the Sakura Snack Shop before letting out a quiet little squeal of joy.
Flirtini
2 pieces fresh pineapple
1/2 oz Cointreau orange liqueur
1/2 oz vodka
1 oz pineapple juice
3 oz Champagne
Muddle the pineapple pieces and cointreau in the bottom of a mixing glass. Add vodka and pineapple juice and stir. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass and top with champagne. Garnish with a cherry, and serve.
It was a date. A real date. Miwa fussed with herself in front of the mirror for ages. How many times had she and Sasakura Ryu shared a meal over the past few years? It had to be in the dozens, maybe even hundreds by now. But this was totally and completely different.
Miwa's co-workers had always hinted that her clothing choices tended toward the frumpy side and it was all the more apparent now that she was staring at everything she owned with horror. Miwa always thought of her fashion sense as leaning toward 'comfortable.' She loved big bulky sweaters, long skirts. And then the rest of her time was at work in her suits. So when it came to 'date night' clothes, she was sadly lacking in anything sexy. All of her heeled shoes were plain and black and a little bulky and work-appropriate.
So what, she told herself. Sasakura Ryu liked her for who she was, not for what she wore. But still, a little effort beyond comfortable would really solidify what this night meant. It wasn't another hooded sweatshirt, slurping ramen together kind of night. It was dinner, a dinner date, with someone she'd waited for so patiently.
She dug and dug through her clothes until she found some things she'd worn in college. A plaid skirt that came to her knees, a low-cut green top that had a little beer stain from a college group date. But, she discovered, if she dressed it up with one of her blazers, the stain was hidden. She put herself together and turned to look in the mirror, pleased, only to see frumpy staring her back in the face. The skirt that had fit like a glove in college was too tight now, the top didn't really match, and the blazer just made her look like she was off to work anyhow.
In the end she pulled on one of her long skirt and bulky sweater combos, opting instead to work her flat, boring hair into a ponytail and use a tube of lipstick that was much more pronounced than she usually preferred. Well, she could always go shopping if he asked her out again.
By the time she arrived at Eden Hall, Miwa realized that she'd gotten worked up for nothing. Ryu greeted her at the door in his usual jeans. He'd paired them with a band t-shirt from some group he'd liked in France and a yellow cardigan. He was cute but ridiculously casual. His smile seemed different, as though he'd taken the past few days to refine it, to make it even more devastatingly perfect. She swooned slightly, holding tight to her purse to keep her hands from flailing at the sight of him.
"I thought we'd just order in here," he said, hands shoved in his jean pockets. "I hope that's alright with you."
Eden Hall was different when it was closed. The stools were flipped and rested on the bar top, the air was fresher, the lights brighter. He took her coat, hung it on the rack near the door and escorted her to the table she'd occupied the other night.
"I'll take care of everything," he assured her. "The food, the drinks. Just leave it to me."
He disappeared for a little while, and she could hear him in the back store room on his phone ordering. She sat nervously at the table, twisting the fabric of her skirt in her fingers. What were they going to talk about? How would this be different from other times they'd been together? Usually they ate together at Sakura Snack Shop surrounded by Auntie and Uncle's regular crowd. Usually Ryu scarfed down his food, asking Miwa about Kuzuhara-san's latest cocktail offerings at the Hotel Cardinal bar, mostly so he could nitpick his old rival.
But then the store room door opened, and Ryu came out, shoving his cellphone in the back pocket of his jeans. He called to her from the bar. "Can I get you something?"
"Just water for now, please." She didn't need to be drinking from the get-go on a date with him. He probably already found her alcohol consumption to be remarkable, and she'd made a fool of herself around him too many times.
For the first time she saw him make a drink for himself. Instead of one of his fancy cocktails, Miwa was surprised to see him pour himself a vodka on the rocks. He brought his drink and a glass of water over, settling himself in the booth across from her.
He didn't touch his drink for a few moments, dragging the glass back and forth over the tabletop in a bit of a nervous motion several times. She sipped her water, unsure how this was supposed to go. It had all seemed so simple before - Sasakura Ryu would confess his love, they'd get together, and everything would fall into place. But here they were, sitting together alone at Eden Hall waiting for the delivery order to arrive, and Ryu had already gotten himself some alcohol. It seemed he was going to need it to get through the evening.
She decided to break the awkwardness first, telling him about some rock band from America that was in town and staying at the hotel for the week. The topic was a welcome one, and Ryu sipped his drink slowly, asking about autographs (Can you get one? No, it's impolite) and about rock and roll behavior (Have they trashed the rooms? No, all they've done so far is ask for extra towels). They had switched over to the more controversial band that adorned his t-shirt when Ryu's phone buzzed with the delivery notification.
She stayed where she was while he hurried off to take care of the order. Now that they'd started talking, she'd been able to relax. They were on the usual kind of Ryu-and-Miwa topics, but there was a strange energy to the room. She'd found herself staring at him more than she already tended to do, watching his long fingers wrap around his glass. And she'd noticed that the more of his drink that he sipped, the more he seemed to calm down. His face had already grown a bit warmer, his smile more natural, and now he was returning with white plastic bags.
"I ordered from this Thai place around the corner, he's one of my regulars. Got a discount!"
Miwa resisted the urge to tell him it wasn't worth bragging to a date about getting their dinner on the cheap, but Sasakura Ryu couldn't be reshaped in a day.
The food, though not terribly fancy in its styrofoam containers, was delicious. It wasn't too mild, wasn't too spicy. After so many meals together, it seemed Ryu knew her favorite flavors in addition to her favorite kinds of cocktails. With the dinner he whipped together a Thai-inspired martini for each of them with a brand new bottle of lychee-infused liqueur, garnishing them with lime zest. It was refreshing and crisp and matched the meal well.
When dinner was done, he offered to make her another drink. But this time she followed him from the booth, belly full and happy, especially because for once she hadn't had to open her own wallet. "Am I allowed to come to the other side for once?" she asked, tapping her hands on his bar top.
He looked up from preparing more lime zest, cheeks flushing a bit adorably. A new Sasakura Ryu, one who'd already had two very alcoholic drinks, had arrived. A Sasakura that blushed. "But I want to make it for you."
"I want to see how you make it."
He leaned forward, a stray bit of his dark hair sliding across his forehead. "Come here then."
His voice had dropped far lower than its usual, sending Miwa's thoughts down with it. How many times had she been here in Eden Hall, or back in Lapin for that matter, dreaming about seeing the place from the bartender's side? And here was Sasakura Ryu, eyes sparkling from liquor, beckoning for her to join him. Her body was warm, just as flushed as his as she tottered around to join him behind the counter for the very first time.
It was a new way of seeing everything, the world from Ryu's eyes. She could see the booth they'd been sharing, her usual seat, how the eyes had to lift up and across the room to best capture it. She turned away from the empty bar audience, staring up close at his impressive collection of spirits. Vodka, gin, cognac, absinthe, everything under the sun. Her fingertips brushed along the colorful bottles, this special place that belonged to the bartenders alone. From here they dispensed their wisdom along with their drinks. From here Ryu seemed to read minds and craft perfect understanding inside his shakers.
She saw clean glassware, his blender, his sink, stacks of cocktail napkins emblazoned with the Eden Hall logo. This was his space, this was where he made the magic happen.
He struck out his hand and it wrapped around her wrist, tugging her away from his precious bottles and over to his side. His fingers were a little sticky from handling the lime, but she didn't mind. She stood alongside him, almost close enough to touch but not quite. When he made cocktails for customers, he placed the bottles on the bar top, but back here with the doors shuttered for the night and just the two of them he kept them closer.
Ryu moved away briefly to open the small refrigerator he kept at the end of the bar, removing a fresh martini glass he'd been chilling inside. "Liqueur," he said, handing her his small metal measuring cup and the bottle of Soho lychee liqueur. He readied his shaker with some ice while she held the little cup and poured the sweet-smelling liqueur into it.
"Into the shaker," he said, and she did so. He then had her fill it again and let her add it to the shaker. Then he reached for a bottle of vodka, measuring out an all-too ample amount for her and letting her dump it inside. He then pulled a little bottle from his fridge and put just a splash of it in the shaker. It smelled sweet, just like the liqueur. Maybe fresh lychee juice. He closed it up and was ready to go into his usual stance when she put a hand to his wrist.
"Show me."
She nearly fell against him when she saw him lick his lips, nodding quickly. "You're a first timer, so don't get your hopes up."
"I've watched you for three years," she said, hoping he'd get it through his thick skull that she didn't just mean watching him use his shaker.
Ryu handed the shaker over and she turned herself, putting her back to him. She lifted her arms up, hoping to get the correct angle, trying to imagine what he usually looked like.
"Start about here," he said, and Miwa froze when his hands came around her, rearranging her arms and the placement of her hands on the shaker. "Here, about shoulder height."
Then he moved her hands for her. Up! There was the usual crunch of the ice inside the shaker. Down! Another crunch. "Up," he said aloud this time, moving her arms back up to her starting position. "And then back down."
She almost leaned back against him but soon he was gone, and she was left to follow his instructions. Up, down, crunch, crunch, back and forth. Miwa heard a soft little chuckle, but she kept up her shaking. She had no muscles to speak of, really, so the fact that Ryu did this multiple times every night with ease spoke volumes about what muscles he was probably hiding under that t-shirt and cardigan. She desperately returned her focus back to her shaking. Finally he announced that she was done, and she pulled the cap off of the shaker, pouring her drink out through the strainer and into the chilled glass. She saw him smile when she tried to do a little wrist snap with the shaker like he always did perfectly after the last droplet hit the glass. She wasn't half as accurate, spilling a bit down the side of the glass. He then put the little lime zest finishing touch on it.
"Well, Kurushima-Bartender, let's see how you did."
The drink was nearly full to the brim, so she hunched down, sipping carefully from the edge of the martini glass. "Hmm," she said.
"Hmm?" he replied back, his voice taking on a superior tone.
"Strong and sweet." She took another sip, blinking a few times. "Stronger than you made the first one."
"There's a little more vodka this time, that's what you're tasting," he said, and she stepped back so he could lift the glass and taste it himself. He smiled again, the one that had snared her for three years now, and took another sip. "We'll work on your shaker technique. Practice, practice, practice, Kurushima-Bartender."
She got a little bold, giving him a poke in the side that nearly made him spill the drink she'd made. "When do I get to practice again, huh? Are you offering me lessons?"
He set the glass down on the counter, reaching for a towel to wipe up the spillage she'd caused. "I've won awards," he reminded her. Sasakura Ryu with a few drinks turned into a bit of a braggart. "I could charge a premium for lessons."
"Well," she said with a pout, "what if I don't have the money to pay? What's the charge for your expertise?"
She heard an uncomfortable little grunt come from him, and he wiped his hands on the towel, walking back around the bar. He was red as a tomato, his lips shut tight as though he was keeping himself from saying something inappropriate. Miwa had felt electric from the second she'd stepped into his world here on the other side of the counter, could still feel the heat she'd felt when his hands had grasped hers, when his arms had come around her. Were they moving too fast? Too slow? It was their first date, and things had at the very least heated up more than they ever had. She licked her lips, taking another sip of the strong drink he'd helped her make. She'd down the whole thing if she wasn't careful, and the last thing she needed to do was play a risky game. She didn't need to scare him off.
He busied himself with cleaning up their dinner containers. "Here, there's plenty to take home. I'll walk you."
And like that, it seemed Sasakura Ryu had decided the date had come to a close. Miwa grinned, realizing that the sudden change in their behavior around each other was affecting him just as strongly as it was affecting her. Her oblivious pet rock of a guy was waking up, becoming conscious of her. Becoming aware of her as Miwa, the woman and not just Miwa, his friend. She wondered if things would continue on this interesting trajectory. By letting her behind his bar, he'd given her so much power over him already.
The chilly air was a light slap to the face as they finished tidying and left Eden Hall for the night. There was still time for the train, but they fell into their usual side-by-side march.
"I had a nice time," she admitted.
"Me too."
They walked in silence for a while, Miwa in her bulky coat and scarf and Ryu in his tan trenchcoat that clung to his tall, lanky frame in the best way. The closer they came to Sakura Snack Shop, the more Miwa started to worry. She was sobered up and figured Ryu was as well. She'd felt so good around him, so safe. It had been a very different meal from the dozens or hundreds that had come before. But was it enough? Would it continue or would he retreat back into his obliviousness?
They were a few blocks away when he grabbed her mittened hand, holding it in his own. He didn't look at her, and she didn't dare look at him but he held it firmly, confidently, their hands joined like no male friend and female friend would ever do. Unable to hold it in, Miwa smiled.
He bid her a good night when they reached the snack shop, letting her hand go. He didn't lean forward to kiss her good night, but he certainly didn't bluntly dismiss anything that had come before it as a misunderstanding, a non-date, et cetera. He only smiled and waved, heading back in the direction of his houseboat down by the riverside.
Uncle and Auntie were still awake, wiping down tables and counters in the shop as she drifted inside, ignorant to anything but the rustling of her plastic bags of leftovers.
"Has he proposed marriage?" Auntie asked, she and Uncle curious as the long-time supporters of a Sasakura-Kurushima match.
"No," she replied airily. "But he let me use his martini shaker."
Uncle and Auntie exchanged a curious glance as Miwa drifted to the stairs in a lovesick daze, still tasting lychee juice on her tongue.
Part Two
From: cupid_johnny
Title: Order Up
Pairing: Sasakura Ryu/Kurushima Miwa (Bartender)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A series of vignettes charting the course of Ryu and Miwa's relationship. Set post-series and contains spoilers.
A/N: Hello Miss phrenk, I was thrilled to receive you as my assignment! You gave so many fun pairings, but somehow Bartender Aiba with his Bartender Aiba Face won the day. This pairing needs ALL THE FIC anyhow. I really hope you will enjoy!
Old Fashioned
2 oz bourbon whiskey
2 dashes Angostura bitters
1 splash water
1 tsp sugar
1 maraschino cherry
1 orange wedge
Mix sugar, water and angostura bitters in an old-fashioned glass. Drop in a cherry and an orange wedge. Muddle into a paste using a muddler or the back end of a spoon. Pour in bourbon, fill with ice cubes, and stir.
Clutching the gift bag in her gloved fingers, Kurushima Miwa decided that this would be the very last year she put herself through this. The dessert chef had spent the entire month of January offering to give Miwa a hand to thank her for his recent pay bump, but she had insisted on working by herself. With the busy holiday over and the mid-January summit meeting guests gone, she stayed in the Hotel Cardinal's kitchens night after night stirring and mixing and grumbling to herself until she came up with something halfway edible. This was the third year of this, the third year making Valentine chocolates for someone who didn't appreciate them. And it would be the last.
She had convinced herself to give up in December when she had purposefully and deliberately arranged her schedule so she had the 24th free. The 24th came, the 24th went, and Kurushima Miwa had sat in her lonely room munching on the holiday-themed fried chicken Uncle had made for her at the Sakura Snack Shop. Bar Eden Hall had apparently been booked on the 24th for some holiday party, its owner and chief bartender mixing gin and tonics all night long while Miwa munched her fried heart attack.
Three years of her life she had spent pining away for the world's most oblivious man. Valentine's chocolate, offers of hotel discounts in low season, birthday gifts. Miwa had done absolutely everything she could think to do that didn't involve stripping down to her skivvies and asking Sasakura-san to do a body shot of something off of her soft tummy. She just wasn't that type of girl. And now she'd gone three years and still she was "Miwa-san" and even worse, "Kurushima-san" the customer when she paid a visit to Bar Eden Hall.
Miwa had always thought of herself as a logical and practical person. If she wasn't, then her grandfather wouldn't have left the Hotel Cardinal in her charge. She was nearing thirty, and she was one of the youngest hotel managers in Japan. She ran a tight ship, kept a competent staff, and followed in her grandfather's example to ensure all guests had a world-class, personalized, and delightful stay. But somehow she'd never been able to turn on that switch in her personal life.
Months and now years had gone by and still there'd been no confession from Sasakura Ryu, who seemed to have the emotional understanding of a pet rock. Sure he understood his customers. He could make the perfect drink to match their mood, could plop down some kind of psychological analysis in a highball glass. So how come after all this time he couldn't read her the way he read some random guy off the street? How many batches of chocolate did she need to make? How many hints did she have to drop?
Because if he really and truly wasn't interested he would have said something by now. If he really and truly wasn't interested in Miwa he would have taken the time to get a girlfriend or a boyfriend or a sex friend or something by now. If he really and truly wasn't interested in Miwa, he wouldn't hang out with her all the time. Three years. Three long, agonizing years, and Miwa was at the end of her rope. This was her last batch of Valentine chocolates for Sasakura Ryu. Her last ditch effort to confess without actually opening her mouth and confessing. Because even though Miwa was a logical and practical person, she was a little old-fashioned when it came to love. She wanted to be confessed to. She'd put in three years of effort, and she wasn't going to be the one to confess first.
But she loved him, she knew she did. She wouldn't spend three years of her life pining for someone she didn't love. There was the physical that had drawn her in from the start - the model good looks and the shine in his eyes when he slid a glass across to you. And then there was the more than physical, the internal drive that pushed him to be better and better, to put his customers first, to provide a comfortable place for them. The kindness in him, the gentleness. No matter how many times she'd gone ahead and gotten drunk on his watch, he'd never once taken advantage of her. He clearly respected her and cared about her, but Miwa had decided that she needed more than that. She wanted to be loved, and Sasakura Ryu's time was up.
She tightened her grip on the gift bag and pushed open the door to Bar Eden Hall. Bar Lapin, Ryu-san's old haunt, had taken in all sorts of customers, but Eden Hall was nestled in the middle of a Marunouchi side street, snug between a jewelry shop and a place that sold fancy ballpoint pens. Ryu's customers mostly came from the high-rises and corporate headquarters in the neighborhood and the occasional wanderer from Tokyo Station. They were suit-wearing smokers who liked martinis but couldn't afford or didn't care for the nightlife Ginza had to offer just to the south.
Miwa strode through the bar as confidently as she could, happy for the warmth inside. It had been a chilly walk from the Metro stop, and it was shaking her resolve all the more. She spotted Ryu in his usual place, shaker in his hands. He caught her eye and gave her one of those "I see you but I can't talk" smiles, the smiles that had been her undoing for so damn long now. She slid out of her coat and tucked herself into one of the small, unoccupied booths opposite the bar. From here she could watch him work. From here she would wait.
She settled the gift bag and her purse beside her, exhaling a breath. She was handing over the chocolates, and then it was up to him. There was White Day a month away, but she wasn't giving him the benefit of four more weeks. He didn't get any more time. Three years was enough. If he did nothing, Miwa had resolved to finally dislodge him from the romance category in her heart and plant him firmly in the friendship category.
She would start over. She would reassess. She would maybe, probably, possibly go ahead and join that online dating community Eri-chan had been talking about. Whenever she met up for dinner or drinks with her former co-workers from Tokyo Wonder Night, Miwa's sad dating life became the topic of conversation all too often. "A smart, professional woman deserves more, Miwa," they were always telling her before going on to complain about the "creeps" who sent them messages on the dating site. If tonight didn't go her way, soon Miwa would join their ranks and have a few creeps of her own to wade through before hopefully finding someone.
Ryu's new hire, Danny-kun, stopped over at her table, greeting her with a smile and a cocktail napkin. He'd been hired just before the holiday rush, and Miwa was certain she'd spent more time speaking with him at Eden Hall than Ryu lately. He was Australian, fresh out of college, and in Japan to teach English. Working part time at Eden Hall was Danny's way of getting better at Japanese in exchange.
"Miwa-san, hello, how are you?" he said in his cheerful voice. "Happy Valentine's Day!"
She wanted to give him a thump for the noisy reminder of what day it was, but he was just being nice and at least he hadn't commented on her arriving by herself. She opened her purse, sliding out a small bundle tied with red ribbon. Danny's boss wasn't the only one getting a treat today - she'd made some for the bartenders at Bar Lapin too and had delivered them the previous night, and she had another small bundle for Kuzuhara-san back at the hotel.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Danny," she said quietly, handing him the chocolates. "I'll just have a whiskey sour please."
She knew very well that Danny had a girlfriend, but he beamed from ear to ear at her gift. "Wow! Thank you, Miwa-san!"
He jogged off with her order, and Miwa tried not to look too smug as Danny went up to the bar and immediately bragged to Ryu about what she'd brought him. Sure, it was manipulative and mean on Miwa's part, knowing how someone like Danny would behave, but Miwa hadn't gotten far playing fair all these years. It was time for some psychological intimidation.
She watched Danny wiggle the little bundle of chocolates in his boss' face, smiling all the while. What was that? Had there been a twitch? A flash of something? The lighting in Eden Hall had always been a bit dim and the smoke never helped. But had Sasakura Ryu just had some sort of physical reaction to seeing Miwa-made chocolates in Danny's hand?
Ryu turned away, suddenly busying himself with the arrangement of some bottles behind the bar. Danny himself was given the privilege of making her whiskey sour, and Miwa worried that she'd gone too far. She took out her iPad and went through some work stuff, Danny making her another whiskey sour an hour later while she waited for the end of the night. She drank slowly, savoring the taste but sensing something missing. It was a perfectly serviceable drink, but Sasakura Ryu hadn't made it. There was just something different when he did it.
It had already been after 10:00 PM when she'd entered Eden Hall, and some of the regulars started ducking out to catch the last trains. Danny was dismissed just before midnight, saying one final English "thank you!" to Miwa as he headed out the door. As the number of customers dwindled and the ice cubes melted in her glass, she itched to take the gift bag and run to the bar with it, shoving it at him and running away. She never felt this uncomfortable in Ryu's bar. Perhaps it was her self-imposed ticking time bomb that was making her so nervous. She did her best to get lost in work, distracting herself with the website for a hotel management conference she planned to attend in May.
She jumped when a new cocktail napkin was placed down on her table and soon followed with a new glass. Another whiskey sour was presented, and she looked up to see Sasakura Ryu. The time on her iPad said 1:30 AM - she'd somehow been surfing the web and staring at the conference pages for over an hour. She looked around, seeing that she was the only customer remaining.
"It looks different," she mumbled, staring at the glass he'd brought her.
"It is," he said, still standing beside her table almost stiffly. "It's a Ward 8, a variant on whiskey sour. It has lemon and orange juice plus grenadine. Traditionally they made it with rye whiskey, but I know Miwa-san prefers Bourbon anyhow."
She took a sip, enjoying the different sweetness from usual. She told him so, and he bowed politely. No matter what, he'd always known what tastes she liked.
She turned her iPad off, slumping back a bit in her booth. "Sit down," she told him, "unless you have to clean up."
He raised an eyebrow. "You sound serious."
"It's not serious," she lied, waving her hand at him. He took a seat, looking prim and proper as usual in his vest and tie, his big brown eyes in the happy sort of drowsiness they took on after another successful evening.
She fumbled with the bag, nearly toppling it as she pulled it up from the booth and slid it across the table to him.
"Ah, you did make me some," he said, and there was definitely a relieved sound to his voice. As though she'd only make chocolates for his employee and skip him entirely. She was still here at the end of the night waiting for him, the idiot. "Thank you."
She tapped her foot nervously. This was it. This was the time. The other times she'd made him chocolate, they'd been little pieces and morsels, some made with caramel. This time she'd gone out of her way. Only the chocolates in Ryu's gift box were heart-shaped. It was a pretty bold move, at least for someone like Miwa, but it couldn't count as a confession. Not really.
He untied the ribbon and pulled the box from the bag. She'd decorated it simply - To Sasakura-san, From Miwa. He lifted the lid, and she heard his breath catch. She held her own, uncertain what to do or say, so she did and said nothing. Instead she sat there, heart racing, wondering if he was going to eat one and smile like he usually did without saying anything. This was his last chance, whether he knew it or not. These were potentially his last Valentine chocolates.
When he finally spoke, he sounded almost proud. "There's a lot more in here than what Danny-kun got."
Miwa exhaled almost angrily. Of course there are, you oaf! She wanted to reach across the table and throttle him. There's always more for you, she wanted to screech at him. There have always been more for you.
She watched him pick up one of the heart chocolates, sizing it up with a grin before shoving it in his mouth. Miwa's gaze lingered a little too long on his finger as he sucked a bit of the chocolate off. How many nights had she spent dreaming of those hands, of those fingers with the calluses from his shaker? The feeling of that hand on her face, those fingers sliding down, down, down...
"Miwa-san?"
"Hmm?" she murmured, feeling her face go hot.
Ryu pulled another chocolate from the box and popped it in his mouth. "These are the best you've made yet, thank you so much," he said while chewing.
"Well, I'm glad you think so," she replied, hands under the table squeezing her knees to try and keep them from shaking. "I did the best I could."
"You've looked after me for a long time," he muttered a few moments later, fingers digging in the box for yet another piece.
"Huh?"
"I said...I said that Miwa-san has always looked after me."
"Oh," she replied, something much more than butterflies flying around in her stomach. Maybe she wouldn't have to join that dating site. Maybe she wouldn't be waiting much longer. Maybe she wouldn't have to give up on him. She found herself shakily reaching for the drink he'd made her, gulping it down quickly.
"Does Miwa-san like me?"
She stopped abruptly, mid-sip, eyes widening. No, no he wasn't allowed to do it this way! He wasn't supposed to ask her! He was supposed to shyly tell her how much he cared about her too, how his feelings for her overwhelmed him. How these chocolates, these perfect chocolates, reminded him of how much she'd always cared for him, and wasn't it time he told her he felt the same?
Why wouldn't he just say what HE felt for once?!
Hopeless. He was completely and utterly hopeless. He let out a little grunt of surprise as she yanked the box of chocolates away from him and put the lid back on. She shoved it in the purse with her iPad, standing up abruptly from the table.
"Wait, what did I say?"
She grabbed her coat with shaking hands, putting it on and not bothering to zip it or even put on her earmuffs. Miwa felt tears pricking her eyes. She'd been too patient. She'd waited too long. She couldn't do this any longer. She grabbed her heavy bag and pulled it from the booth, hurrying away.
"Miwa-san. Hey Miwa-san!"
She stomped furiously out of Bar Eden Hall, out into the nearly deserted street. Usually they walked home together when she stayed late to wait for him, but tonight she felt like coughing up the money for a taxi.
Miwa was halfway to the nearest main street when she heard him running, his shoes clomp clomping on the pavement behind her.
"Miwa!"
She considered speeding up, but she was so startled by him calling out her name and only her name that she halted in her tracks, holding her bag close.
"Miwa!" he called again, finally catching up. He patted her on the shoulder. "Hey, hey come on."
She turned halfway, seeing his shirt sleeves. It was very cold out, and he hadn't even bothered with a coat. "You'll get hypothermia," she muttered. "Go back inside."
"What did I do wrong?" he asked, and there was none of his usual calm. He was always so calm and collected, it was the most stable thing about him. He hadn't lost his temper in her presence in years now. "What did I do?"
She shut her eyes, shivering in the cold. If she was cold in her coat, he had to be freezing standing out here with towering skyscrapers all around them. But he wouldn't move. "I've given you chocolate for three years, you know."
"It's good," he assured her, patting her shoulder again. "I told you it was good, I wouldn't lie to make you feel better."
"You do know what it means when I make you chocolates, don't you?"
He was quiet. She could have sworn she heard the gears in his head turning, or maybe it was just his teeth chattering.
She took his silence as continued proof of his ignorance...or disinterest. She pulled the chocolate box out of her bag, handing it back. "I shouldn't have taken them back. I'm sorry, please enjoy the rest of them. Have a good night."
"Wait," he said, grabbing hold of her arm and refusing to let her go.
"I'm tired," she said, wondering if he could even understand just how tired she truly was. "I'm tired and I'm going home. I have a lot of work to do."
He held her tighter. "The Ward 8, I made it for you because it's a little sweeter. Because it's Valentine's Day."
She turned slightly, worried that the tear tracks on her cheeks were visible under the street lights. He was looking at her more seriously than he ever had. She couldn't remember him looking at her this seriously since she'd lost her grandfather.
"Miwa-san has always looked out for me. Always. I know you're busy, but there's so many nights that I look up and see you there. Even when you don't have to be there, you come. You come and you support Eden Hall, and before that Lapin. And I guess I take it for granted, I have all this time. I look up and you being there somehow became an expectation, not a privilege." He inclined his head. "I'm sorry."
She gave up on holding in any more tears. They flowed freely now, and she chuckled quietly to herself, sniffling. After three years, he was finally noticing her the way she wanted him to.
"Show up again. Tomorrow or next week or a month from now. Show up," he said earnestly. "You're the most important customer I'll ever have. Eden Hall needs you. And...and so do I."
Miwa was shocked, totally shocked to hear his honest words, and when she looked up he was smiling down at her, looking sheepish. "Of course I'll show up," she replied, shivering a little.
"I'm closing early on Sunday, 7 PM," he said quietly. "I was going to do inventory, but maybe...maybe we could...get something to eat. And...it would be my treat."
They'd gone Dutch on almost every meal they'd ever had. This was indeed a first. It had taken a dramatic flight from Eden Hall, much more dramatic than she'd have liked, but he'd just asked her out. After three years there was forward momentum. He did care. As more than a friend, he did care.
She nodded. "Sunday at 7:00."
He nodded in return, rubbing his shirt-sleeves. "I should...I should probably..."
She gave him a shove. "Go already. Go before you catch a cold!"
Miwa made it all the way to the taxi stand. She made it all the way through the ride home. She made it all the way to her rooms above the Sakura Snack Shop before letting out a quiet little squeal of joy.
Flirtini
2 pieces fresh pineapple
1/2 oz Cointreau orange liqueur
1/2 oz vodka
1 oz pineapple juice
3 oz Champagne
Muddle the pineapple pieces and cointreau in the bottom of a mixing glass. Add vodka and pineapple juice and stir. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass and top with champagne. Garnish with a cherry, and serve.
It was a date. A real date. Miwa fussed with herself in front of the mirror for ages. How many times had she and Sasakura Ryu shared a meal over the past few years? It had to be in the dozens, maybe even hundreds by now. But this was totally and completely different.
Miwa's co-workers had always hinted that her clothing choices tended toward the frumpy side and it was all the more apparent now that she was staring at everything she owned with horror. Miwa always thought of her fashion sense as leaning toward 'comfortable.' She loved big bulky sweaters, long skirts. And then the rest of her time was at work in her suits. So when it came to 'date night' clothes, she was sadly lacking in anything sexy. All of her heeled shoes were plain and black and a little bulky and work-appropriate.
So what, she told herself. Sasakura Ryu liked her for who she was, not for what she wore. But still, a little effort beyond comfortable would really solidify what this night meant. It wasn't another hooded sweatshirt, slurping ramen together kind of night. It was dinner, a dinner date, with someone she'd waited for so patiently.
She dug and dug through her clothes until she found some things she'd worn in college. A plaid skirt that came to her knees, a low-cut green top that had a little beer stain from a college group date. But, she discovered, if she dressed it up with one of her blazers, the stain was hidden. She put herself together and turned to look in the mirror, pleased, only to see frumpy staring her back in the face. The skirt that had fit like a glove in college was too tight now, the top didn't really match, and the blazer just made her look like she was off to work anyhow.
In the end she pulled on one of her long skirt and bulky sweater combos, opting instead to work her flat, boring hair into a ponytail and use a tube of lipstick that was much more pronounced than she usually preferred. Well, she could always go shopping if he asked her out again.
By the time she arrived at Eden Hall, Miwa realized that she'd gotten worked up for nothing. Ryu greeted her at the door in his usual jeans. He'd paired them with a band t-shirt from some group he'd liked in France and a yellow cardigan. He was cute but ridiculously casual. His smile seemed different, as though he'd taken the past few days to refine it, to make it even more devastatingly perfect. She swooned slightly, holding tight to her purse to keep her hands from flailing at the sight of him.
"I thought we'd just order in here," he said, hands shoved in his jean pockets. "I hope that's alright with you."
Eden Hall was different when it was closed. The stools were flipped and rested on the bar top, the air was fresher, the lights brighter. He took her coat, hung it on the rack near the door and escorted her to the table she'd occupied the other night.
"I'll take care of everything," he assured her. "The food, the drinks. Just leave it to me."
He disappeared for a little while, and she could hear him in the back store room on his phone ordering. She sat nervously at the table, twisting the fabric of her skirt in her fingers. What were they going to talk about? How would this be different from other times they'd been together? Usually they ate together at Sakura Snack Shop surrounded by Auntie and Uncle's regular crowd. Usually Ryu scarfed down his food, asking Miwa about Kuzuhara-san's latest cocktail offerings at the Hotel Cardinal bar, mostly so he could nitpick his old rival.
But then the store room door opened, and Ryu came out, shoving his cellphone in the back pocket of his jeans. He called to her from the bar. "Can I get you something?"
"Just water for now, please." She didn't need to be drinking from the get-go on a date with him. He probably already found her alcohol consumption to be remarkable, and she'd made a fool of herself around him too many times.
For the first time she saw him make a drink for himself. Instead of one of his fancy cocktails, Miwa was surprised to see him pour himself a vodka on the rocks. He brought his drink and a glass of water over, settling himself in the booth across from her.
He didn't touch his drink for a few moments, dragging the glass back and forth over the tabletop in a bit of a nervous motion several times. She sipped her water, unsure how this was supposed to go. It had all seemed so simple before - Sasakura Ryu would confess his love, they'd get together, and everything would fall into place. But here they were, sitting together alone at Eden Hall waiting for the delivery order to arrive, and Ryu had already gotten himself some alcohol. It seemed he was going to need it to get through the evening.
She decided to break the awkwardness first, telling him about some rock band from America that was in town and staying at the hotel for the week. The topic was a welcome one, and Ryu sipped his drink slowly, asking about autographs (Can you get one? No, it's impolite) and about rock and roll behavior (Have they trashed the rooms? No, all they've done so far is ask for extra towels). They had switched over to the more controversial band that adorned his t-shirt when Ryu's phone buzzed with the delivery notification.
She stayed where she was while he hurried off to take care of the order. Now that they'd started talking, she'd been able to relax. They were on the usual kind of Ryu-and-Miwa topics, but there was a strange energy to the room. She'd found herself staring at him more than she already tended to do, watching his long fingers wrap around his glass. And she'd noticed that the more of his drink that he sipped, the more he seemed to calm down. His face had already grown a bit warmer, his smile more natural, and now he was returning with white plastic bags.
"I ordered from this Thai place around the corner, he's one of my regulars. Got a discount!"
Miwa resisted the urge to tell him it wasn't worth bragging to a date about getting their dinner on the cheap, but Sasakura Ryu couldn't be reshaped in a day.
The food, though not terribly fancy in its styrofoam containers, was delicious. It wasn't too mild, wasn't too spicy. After so many meals together, it seemed Ryu knew her favorite flavors in addition to her favorite kinds of cocktails. With the dinner he whipped together a Thai-inspired martini for each of them with a brand new bottle of lychee-infused liqueur, garnishing them with lime zest. It was refreshing and crisp and matched the meal well.
When dinner was done, he offered to make her another drink. But this time she followed him from the booth, belly full and happy, especially because for once she hadn't had to open her own wallet. "Am I allowed to come to the other side for once?" she asked, tapping her hands on his bar top.
He looked up from preparing more lime zest, cheeks flushing a bit adorably. A new Sasakura Ryu, one who'd already had two very alcoholic drinks, had arrived. A Sasakura that blushed. "But I want to make it for you."
"I want to see how you make it."
He leaned forward, a stray bit of his dark hair sliding across his forehead. "Come here then."
His voice had dropped far lower than its usual, sending Miwa's thoughts down with it. How many times had she been here in Eden Hall, or back in Lapin for that matter, dreaming about seeing the place from the bartender's side? And here was Sasakura Ryu, eyes sparkling from liquor, beckoning for her to join him. Her body was warm, just as flushed as his as she tottered around to join him behind the counter for the very first time.
It was a new way of seeing everything, the world from Ryu's eyes. She could see the booth they'd been sharing, her usual seat, how the eyes had to lift up and across the room to best capture it. She turned away from the empty bar audience, staring up close at his impressive collection of spirits. Vodka, gin, cognac, absinthe, everything under the sun. Her fingertips brushed along the colorful bottles, this special place that belonged to the bartenders alone. From here they dispensed their wisdom along with their drinks. From here Ryu seemed to read minds and craft perfect understanding inside his shakers.
She saw clean glassware, his blender, his sink, stacks of cocktail napkins emblazoned with the Eden Hall logo. This was his space, this was where he made the magic happen.
He struck out his hand and it wrapped around her wrist, tugging her away from his precious bottles and over to his side. His fingers were a little sticky from handling the lime, but she didn't mind. She stood alongside him, almost close enough to touch but not quite. When he made cocktails for customers, he placed the bottles on the bar top, but back here with the doors shuttered for the night and just the two of them he kept them closer.
Ryu moved away briefly to open the small refrigerator he kept at the end of the bar, removing a fresh martini glass he'd been chilling inside. "Liqueur," he said, handing her his small metal measuring cup and the bottle of Soho lychee liqueur. He readied his shaker with some ice while she held the little cup and poured the sweet-smelling liqueur into it.
"Into the shaker," he said, and she did so. He then had her fill it again and let her add it to the shaker. Then he reached for a bottle of vodka, measuring out an all-too ample amount for her and letting her dump it inside. He then pulled a little bottle from his fridge and put just a splash of it in the shaker. It smelled sweet, just like the liqueur. Maybe fresh lychee juice. He closed it up and was ready to go into his usual stance when she put a hand to his wrist.
"Show me."
She nearly fell against him when she saw him lick his lips, nodding quickly. "You're a first timer, so don't get your hopes up."
"I've watched you for three years," she said, hoping he'd get it through his thick skull that she didn't just mean watching him use his shaker.
Ryu handed the shaker over and she turned herself, putting her back to him. She lifted her arms up, hoping to get the correct angle, trying to imagine what he usually looked like.
"Start about here," he said, and Miwa froze when his hands came around her, rearranging her arms and the placement of her hands on the shaker. "Here, about shoulder height."
Then he moved her hands for her. Up! There was the usual crunch of the ice inside the shaker. Down! Another crunch. "Up," he said aloud this time, moving her arms back up to her starting position. "And then back down."
She almost leaned back against him but soon he was gone, and she was left to follow his instructions. Up, down, crunch, crunch, back and forth. Miwa heard a soft little chuckle, but she kept up her shaking. She had no muscles to speak of, really, so the fact that Ryu did this multiple times every night with ease spoke volumes about what muscles he was probably hiding under that t-shirt and cardigan. She desperately returned her focus back to her shaking. Finally he announced that she was done, and she pulled the cap off of the shaker, pouring her drink out through the strainer and into the chilled glass. She saw him smile when she tried to do a little wrist snap with the shaker like he always did perfectly after the last droplet hit the glass. She wasn't half as accurate, spilling a bit down the side of the glass. He then put the little lime zest finishing touch on it.
"Well, Kurushima-Bartender, let's see how you did."
The drink was nearly full to the brim, so she hunched down, sipping carefully from the edge of the martini glass. "Hmm," she said.
"Hmm?" he replied back, his voice taking on a superior tone.
"Strong and sweet." She took another sip, blinking a few times. "Stronger than you made the first one."
"There's a little more vodka this time, that's what you're tasting," he said, and she stepped back so he could lift the glass and taste it himself. He smiled again, the one that had snared her for three years now, and took another sip. "We'll work on your shaker technique. Practice, practice, practice, Kurushima-Bartender."
She got a little bold, giving him a poke in the side that nearly made him spill the drink she'd made. "When do I get to practice again, huh? Are you offering me lessons?"
He set the glass down on the counter, reaching for a towel to wipe up the spillage she'd caused. "I've won awards," he reminded her. Sasakura Ryu with a few drinks turned into a bit of a braggart. "I could charge a premium for lessons."
"Well," she said with a pout, "what if I don't have the money to pay? What's the charge for your expertise?"
She heard an uncomfortable little grunt come from him, and he wiped his hands on the towel, walking back around the bar. He was red as a tomato, his lips shut tight as though he was keeping himself from saying something inappropriate. Miwa had felt electric from the second she'd stepped into his world here on the other side of the counter, could still feel the heat she'd felt when his hands had grasped hers, when his arms had come around her. Were they moving too fast? Too slow? It was their first date, and things had at the very least heated up more than they ever had. She licked her lips, taking another sip of the strong drink he'd helped her make. She'd down the whole thing if she wasn't careful, and the last thing she needed to do was play a risky game. She didn't need to scare him off.
He busied himself with cleaning up their dinner containers. "Here, there's plenty to take home. I'll walk you."
And like that, it seemed Sasakura Ryu had decided the date had come to a close. Miwa grinned, realizing that the sudden change in their behavior around each other was affecting him just as strongly as it was affecting her. Her oblivious pet rock of a guy was waking up, becoming conscious of her. Becoming aware of her as Miwa, the woman and not just Miwa, his friend. She wondered if things would continue on this interesting trajectory. By letting her behind his bar, he'd given her so much power over him already.
The chilly air was a light slap to the face as they finished tidying and left Eden Hall for the night. There was still time for the train, but they fell into their usual side-by-side march.
"I had a nice time," she admitted.
"Me too."
They walked in silence for a while, Miwa in her bulky coat and scarf and Ryu in his tan trenchcoat that clung to his tall, lanky frame in the best way. The closer they came to Sakura Snack Shop, the more Miwa started to worry. She was sobered up and figured Ryu was as well. She'd felt so good around him, so safe. It had been a very different meal from the dozens or hundreds that had come before. But was it enough? Would it continue or would he retreat back into his obliviousness?
They were a few blocks away when he grabbed her mittened hand, holding it in his own. He didn't look at her, and she didn't dare look at him but he held it firmly, confidently, their hands joined like no male friend and female friend would ever do. Unable to hold it in, Miwa smiled.
He bid her a good night when they reached the snack shop, letting her hand go. He didn't lean forward to kiss her good night, but he certainly didn't bluntly dismiss anything that had come before it as a misunderstanding, a non-date, et cetera. He only smiled and waved, heading back in the direction of his houseboat down by the riverside.
Uncle and Auntie were still awake, wiping down tables and counters in the shop as she drifted inside, ignorant to anything but the rustling of her plastic bags of leftovers.
"Has he proposed marriage?" Auntie asked, she and Uncle curious as the long-time supporters of a Sasakura-Kurushima match.
"No," she replied airily. "But he let me use his martini shaker."
Uncle and Auntie exchanged a curious glance as Miwa drifted to the stairs in a lovesick daze, still tasting lychee juice on her tongue.
Part Two