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Entry tags:
i wish you had the nerve to ask me to stay;
Summary: A series of vignettes about Mao and Okamura.
Notes: Written for F!S Fic Requests. Link lost; posted.
The airplane was crowded and the third-class tickets were not worth the cheapness. A baby wailed in the background, and Okamura looked unhappy as he suffered from smoking withdrawal. He fingered his cigarette pack lovingly before it was smashed out of his hand.
He hissed in pain, shaking his fingers. “What was that for?”
“No. Smoking.” Mao glared at him in his eyes and then turned back to her window seat, slumping further. She had her headphones on at a blast too loud to be healthy. He grumbled to himself. She was too defiant. Not that a fiery lady was a bad thing, but to him, it was.
He mumbled to himself as he flipped through the directory book, peering at his old photographs. The man in the third seat returned from the bathroom, and Okamura was forced to squeeze tighter with Mao, leaving room for the hefty man.
“You’re too close,” she snapped.
“Can’t help it,” he said.
“Your breath smells.”
“Can’t help that, either,” he said tiredly. And then he eyed Mao’s uneaten food, and reached to take her pretzels. In return for his hungry actions, he received a sound thwack on the wrist. He hissed and pulled back. “What was that for?”
“Don’t take my food.”
“But you weren’t going to eat it!”
“I might,” she said pointedly, trying to move away from Okamura, “in the future.”
She smelled like cake and flowers.
When they landed, she had fallen asleep with her head resting on his shoulder, as he quietly read a book and stole her pretzels.
--
Their inn only had a room with one bed. Okamura figured it was cheaper anyway, and was pulling out his book when he felt a familiar glare.
“What?”
“Sleep on the floor,” she said. And she gingerly sat on the bed, inspecting the covers for stains.
“That’s mean,” he said to himself, but louder, said, “Fine, fine.”
“Not that I’m scared of you!” she said, with another sharp glare. She was pretty young, he mused. When he was that age, he wondered if he had so much energy. Instead, he tiredly blinked at her and nodded in agreement, before returning to his book. He jotted down another address.
“This bed is disgusting,” she said, shivering. “And what is this? Is this—ew!” She leapt away. And then she took the covers and threw them off, and began to inspect the mattress. After flipping it and shifting it to her liking, she laid down on the bed.
“You can’t sleep without covers,” he said, “It’s too cold for that.” He did not look up from studies.
“I’ll be fine.” She had her head turned away when one of his spare shirts thumped on her face. She took it off and sat up and glared, but then reluctantly pulled it over herself as she turned around. It smelled like the rough scent of smoke.
“Are you even going to sleep at all?” she said, annoyed at his typing.
“Yeah. Soon.”
When the sun rose, he still was typing tiredly. For some reason, she seemed unhappy with that.
--
“I’m tired,” she groaned. “This is the fourteenth house.”
“Why don’t you just wait in the car?”
“No way!” she said loudly. “You might take all our money and leave. I had to steal it from my father, you know. And I can’t go back. So we have to find Kai.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” Okamura peered at the house ahead. “Taking the money.”
She looked at him, surprised, and then turned away in a fluster. “Shut up,” she said. “I can’t trust dirty, down-on-your-luck guys like you.”
“Ouch,” he said, patting his pocket for a cigarette before reluctantly lowering his hand. “If my hands start shaking, it’s all your fault.”
“It’s not bad. It’s even worse if you continue your addiction,” Mao said loudly, “It’s really disgusting, and--“ She took a deep breath. And finally, tired, she leaned by a tree. “At least let me catch my breath. I don’t see how you can do all this annoying stuff.”
“Annoying?” He looked at her. “It’s just part of being a journalist.”
“You find this sort of thing interesting?” She scoffed. “I’m only in it to find Kai.” But inside, she thought it was pretty admirable to do something he liked so much. Maybe this journalism thing wasn’t so bad.
“I know, I know. You don’t have to do it, you know. Just stay here for a bit.” He continued onward, camera still hanging from his neck. “You look pretty with the flowers anyway.”
She froze, watching his back as he continued up the steps. And then she looked around the pretty yellow flowers sprouting around her, and her cheeks reddened. “He-hey! Wait up! What’s with that dirty tactic?”
--
She waited outside the drug store impatiently for Okamura to finish his shopping. At least she looked nice. As she was looking at herself in the reflection of the window, she saw two teenaged boys approaching her. Bleached hair, tattoos, piercings. Not worthy of her time. As she turned away, one of them caught her elbow.
They spoke rapid French—quicker than she could respond, even quicker before she could recall up the words for “no thanks” or something as similar.
“Let me go,” she said harshly, but they were pulling her away, the boy with the blue hair was too strong. She smashed his face and stepped back, only to be faced with the boy with the yellow bleached hair and nose ring.
“Stop it!” Her elbow was grabbed again, and they were pulling her away, and she suddenly felt fear. It tasted metallic in her mouth, and her heart beat fast.
“Hey.” Okamura stepped outside, plastic bag swinging over his shoulder. He had a cigarette in his mouth, still unlit. His sleepless eyes, with heavy bags under them, were frightening to even her. She cringed as he stepped forward and forcibly took her away, slinging his arm over her shoulder and leading her away.
It wasn’t a block later until he released her, glancing back.
“Man,” he said, “if they challenged me, I wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
“Wh-what?”
“I’m not a fighter,” he said, non-apologetically.
“Then why’d you do it if you couldn’t do anything at all?” she snapped angrily, hugging herself.
“You were in trouble,” he said, looking surprised at any other thought. Then he shrugged and gave her the bag.
“What is it?”
“Something for you. And you’d better thank me for it, too.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Even though it’s your money.”
“You used my money for something so silly?”
It was a large absence, she thought, to be away from all her friends and her warm bed and her comfortable room. When she dug into the bag, she found a cheap teddy bear. Despite her loud berates, she slept with it secretly cradled in her arms that night.
--
Kai, she thought to herself. Kai, she was here for Kai. She stole money from her father and traveled halfway around the world with this smelly, grunge reporter for Kai.
But he left the door slightly ajar when he went to shower, and she couldn’t stop herself from thinking. She buried her face in the teddy bear until she heard the shower shut off, and a few minutes later, he stepped into the room, drying his hair.
“Your turn,” he said, taking a seat at the grungy hotel room. He reached for a cigarette, sighed, and instead took his book and flipped through it again. “We’re close to finding them.”
“Shut the door when you shower,” she snapped, gathering up her clothes. She made sure her back was to him so that he couldn’t see her blush.
“What?” In the reflective surface of the window, she could see his skeptical look. “It’s not like you’re going to peek on me or anything.” A smile curled on his face, something that infuriated her. “Or are you peeking?”
“Of course I wouldn’t!” she snapped, spinning around with her clothes. “Why would I want to see somebody so ugly and wrinkly and pruney and hairy?” She slammed the door shut to the bathroom.
“I was just joking,” he muttered to the empty room, returning to his book.
It was the first time she realized that she was traveling with a man, as she stood in the shower, slightly trembling from the heat that still radiated from his previous presence. She breathed heavily, face still flushed.
--
They were driving in the car. Okamura had one hand hanging outside, the other one lazily on the steering wheel as he tried to find a parking spot. Mao leaned on her elbow against the window as the sun slowly set.
“We’ll find Kai soon,” he told her. “And Saya. I can’t wait to ask her some questions.”
“It’s always Saya,” she said bitterly.
“And it’s always Kai,” he pointed out.
“Sh-shut up! I won’t talk about Kai anymore if you’re going to be that way!” She glared at her reflection in the window as a couple with a dog cross the street. Okamura finally cruised into a particular spot. “Hey, Okamura.”
“Mm?”
“You can sleep on the bed, too.” She played with her hair. “It’s really annoying when you stay up late to type. I mean, I’m trying to sleep. And if you don’t get any sleep, you’ll just look even uglier.”
“Thanks,” he said dryly, removing the car keys and getting out of the car. She did the same, reluctantly. With a soft look, she stared at the orange sky.
“It’s pretty—“ she began, and then realized he was moving a piece of her hair out of her face. She smacked his hand away.
“Don’t do that!”
“Eh.” He looked bored as he checked his watch. “Sorry, sorry.”
“Don’t do anything intimate! We should have a line! No, personal bubbles! And you can’t touch me!” Her face was flushed, but he wasn’t even looking at her. “And you stay a few feet away! Because I don’t like you, all right? I’m only it for Kai! And I don’t like, because you smell and you’re really really old and you have an ugly mole on your back.” She spun away, fluffing her hair.
“Hey, let’s go to the Eiffel Tower,” he said, looking at his small book. “We can get a good look of the city from there.”
“For journalistic purposes?” she snapped, still turned away.
“Don’t be so loud—”
“I can be as loud as I want!”
He sighed. She could tell that he was thinking that she was so bothersome. That was fine with her! She’d be bothersome!
“I just thought you’d like to see it.”
She turned around and looked at him intensely. He blinked.
“Do I have something on my face?”
“I guess you’re not so bad,” she said grudgingly. “If we clean you up.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that you’re less ugly now.”
“I’m still good-looking,” he protested, but he was abruptly cut off when she walked forward and looked around. “Hey, hey . . . Are you ignoring me now?”
“You’ll do,” she said loudly. “I’m only going to see the Eiffel Tower with people that I can be romantically interested in. And you’re old and ugly.”
“Not that old,” he grumbled. But as he was looking down at his pack, she leaned forward and gave him a small peck on the cheek. He almost dropped his camera, barely saving it as he juggled it up and down for a secure grasp.
“Wh-what was that for?”
“What was what for?” She blinked at him innocently.
“That—that—“ He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “I guess I really do need more sleep.”
“Come on,” she said impatiently, taking his hand. “Let’s go visit the Eiffel Tower.”
-8/21/08
Notes: Written for F!S Fic Requests. Link lost; posted.
The airplane was crowded and the third-class tickets were not worth the cheapness. A baby wailed in the background, and Okamura looked unhappy as he suffered from smoking withdrawal. He fingered his cigarette pack lovingly before it was smashed out of his hand.
He hissed in pain, shaking his fingers. “What was that for?”
“No. Smoking.” Mao glared at him in his eyes and then turned back to her window seat, slumping further. She had her headphones on at a blast too loud to be healthy. He grumbled to himself. She was too defiant. Not that a fiery lady was a bad thing, but to him, it was.
He mumbled to himself as he flipped through the directory book, peering at his old photographs. The man in the third seat returned from the bathroom, and Okamura was forced to squeeze tighter with Mao, leaving room for the hefty man.
“You’re too close,” she snapped.
“Can’t help it,” he said.
“Your breath smells.”
“Can’t help that, either,” he said tiredly. And then he eyed Mao’s uneaten food, and reached to take her pretzels. In return for his hungry actions, he received a sound thwack on the wrist. He hissed and pulled back. “What was that for?”
“Don’t take my food.”
“But you weren’t going to eat it!”
“I might,” she said pointedly, trying to move away from Okamura, “in the future.”
She smelled like cake and flowers.
When they landed, she had fallen asleep with her head resting on his shoulder, as he quietly read a book and stole her pretzels.
--
Their inn only had a room with one bed. Okamura figured it was cheaper anyway, and was pulling out his book when he felt a familiar glare.
“What?”
“Sleep on the floor,” she said. And she gingerly sat on the bed, inspecting the covers for stains.
“That’s mean,” he said to himself, but louder, said, “Fine, fine.”
“Not that I’m scared of you!” she said, with another sharp glare. She was pretty young, he mused. When he was that age, he wondered if he had so much energy. Instead, he tiredly blinked at her and nodded in agreement, before returning to his book. He jotted down another address.
“This bed is disgusting,” she said, shivering. “And what is this? Is this—ew!” She leapt away. And then she took the covers and threw them off, and began to inspect the mattress. After flipping it and shifting it to her liking, she laid down on the bed.
“You can’t sleep without covers,” he said, “It’s too cold for that.” He did not look up from studies.
“I’ll be fine.” She had her head turned away when one of his spare shirts thumped on her face. She took it off and sat up and glared, but then reluctantly pulled it over herself as she turned around. It smelled like the rough scent of smoke.
“Are you even going to sleep at all?” she said, annoyed at his typing.
“Yeah. Soon.”
When the sun rose, he still was typing tiredly. For some reason, she seemed unhappy with that.
--
“I’m tired,” she groaned. “This is the fourteenth house.”
“Why don’t you just wait in the car?”
“No way!” she said loudly. “You might take all our money and leave. I had to steal it from my father, you know. And I can’t go back. So we have to find Kai.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” Okamura peered at the house ahead. “Taking the money.”
She looked at him, surprised, and then turned away in a fluster. “Shut up,” she said. “I can’t trust dirty, down-on-your-luck guys like you.”
“Ouch,” he said, patting his pocket for a cigarette before reluctantly lowering his hand. “If my hands start shaking, it’s all your fault.”
“It’s not bad. It’s even worse if you continue your addiction,” Mao said loudly, “It’s really disgusting, and--“ She took a deep breath. And finally, tired, she leaned by a tree. “At least let me catch my breath. I don’t see how you can do all this annoying stuff.”
“Annoying?” He looked at her. “It’s just part of being a journalist.”
“You find this sort of thing interesting?” She scoffed. “I’m only in it to find Kai.” But inside, she thought it was pretty admirable to do something he liked so much. Maybe this journalism thing wasn’t so bad.
“I know, I know. You don’t have to do it, you know. Just stay here for a bit.” He continued onward, camera still hanging from his neck. “You look pretty with the flowers anyway.”
She froze, watching his back as he continued up the steps. And then she looked around the pretty yellow flowers sprouting around her, and her cheeks reddened. “He-hey! Wait up! What’s with that dirty tactic?”
--
She waited outside the drug store impatiently for Okamura to finish his shopping. At least she looked nice. As she was looking at herself in the reflection of the window, she saw two teenaged boys approaching her. Bleached hair, tattoos, piercings. Not worthy of her time. As she turned away, one of them caught her elbow.
They spoke rapid French—quicker than she could respond, even quicker before she could recall up the words for “no thanks” or something as similar.
“Let me go,” she said harshly, but they were pulling her away, the boy with the blue hair was too strong. She smashed his face and stepped back, only to be faced with the boy with the yellow bleached hair and nose ring.
“Stop it!” Her elbow was grabbed again, and they were pulling her away, and she suddenly felt fear. It tasted metallic in her mouth, and her heart beat fast.
“Hey.” Okamura stepped outside, plastic bag swinging over his shoulder. He had a cigarette in his mouth, still unlit. His sleepless eyes, with heavy bags under them, were frightening to even her. She cringed as he stepped forward and forcibly took her away, slinging his arm over her shoulder and leading her away.
It wasn’t a block later until he released her, glancing back.
“Man,” he said, “if they challenged me, I wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
“Wh-what?”
“I’m not a fighter,” he said, non-apologetically.
“Then why’d you do it if you couldn’t do anything at all?” she snapped angrily, hugging herself.
“You were in trouble,” he said, looking surprised at any other thought. Then he shrugged and gave her the bag.
“What is it?”
“Something for you. And you’d better thank me for it, too.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Even though it’s your money.”
“You used my money for something so silly?”
It was a large absence, she thought, to be away from all her friends and her warm bed and her comfortable room. When she dug into the bag, she found a cheap teddy bear. Despite her loud berates, she slept with it secretly cradled in her arms that night.
--
Kai, she thought to herself. Kai, she was here for Kai. She stole money from her father and traveled halfway around the world with this smelly, grunge reporter for Kai.
But he left the door slightly ajar when he went to shower, and she couldn’t stop herself from thinking. She buried her face in the teddy bear until she heard the shower shut off, and a few minutes later, he stepped into the room, drying his hair.
“Your turn,” he said, taking a seat at the grungy hotel room. He reached for a cigarette, sighed, and instead took his book and flipped through it again. “We’re close to finding them.”
“Shut the door when you shower,” she snapped, gathering up her clothes. She made sure her back was to him so that he couldn’t see her blush.
“What?” In the reflective surface of the window, she could see his skeptical look. “It’s not like you’re going to peek on me or anything.” A smile curled on his face, something that infuriated her. “Or are you peeking?”
“Of course I wouldn’t!” she snapped, spinning around with her clothes. “Why would I want to see somebody so ugly and wrinkly and pruney and hairy?” She slammed the door shut to the bathroom.
“I was just joking,” he muttered to the empty room, returning to his book.
It was the first time she realized that she was traveling with a man, as she stood in the shower, slightly trembling from the heat that still radiated from his previous presence. She breathed heavily, face still flushed.
--
They were driving in the car. Okamura had one hand hanging outside, the other one lazily on the steering wheel as he tried to find a parking spot. Mao leaned on her elbow against the window as the sun slowly set.
“We’ll find Kai soon,” he told her. “And Saya. I can’t wait to ask her some questions.”
“It’s always Saya,” she said bitterly.
“And it’s always Kai,” he pointed out.
“Sh-shut up! I won’t talk about Kai anymore if you’re going to be that way!” She glared at her reflection in the window as a couple with a dog cross the street. Okamura finally cruised into a particular spot. “Hey, Okamura.”
“Mm?”
“You can sleep on the bed, too.” She played with her hair. “It’s really annoying when you stay up late to type. I mean, I’m trying to sleep. And if you don’t get any sleep, you’ll just look even uglier.”
“Thanks,” he said dryly, removing the car keys and getting out of the car. She did the same, reluctantly. With a soft look, she stared at the orange sky.
“It’s pretty—“ she began, and then realized he was moving a piece of her hair out of her face. She smacked his hand away.
“Don’t do that!”
“Eh.” He looked bored as he checked his watch. “Sorry, sorry.”
“Don’t do anything intimate! We should have a line! No, personal bubbles! And you can’t touch me!” Her face was flushed, but he wasn’t even looking at her. “And you stay a few feet away! Because I don’t like you, all right? I’m only it for Kai! And I don’t like, because you smell and you’re really really old and you have an ugly mole on your back.” She spun away, fluffing her hair.
“Hey, let’s go to the Eiffel Tower,” he said, looking at his small book. “We can get a good look of the city from there.”
“For journalistic purposes?” she snapped, still turned away.
“Don’t be so loud—”
“I can be as loud as I want!”
He sighed. She could tell that he was thinking that she was so bothersome. That was fine with her! She’d be bothersome!
“I just thought you’d like to see it.”
She turned around and looked at him intensely. He blinked.
“Do I have something on my face?”
“I guess you’re not so bad,” she said grudgingly. “If we clean you up.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that you’re less ugly now.”
“I’m still good-looking,” he protested, but he was abruptly cut off when she walked forward and looked around. “Hey, hey . . . Are you ignoring me now?”
“You’ll do,” she said loudly. “I’m only going to see the Eiffel Tower with people that I can be romantically interested in. And you’re old and ugly.”
“Not that old,” he grumbled. But as he was looking down at his pack, she leaned forward and gave him a small peck on the cheek. He almost dropped his camera, barely saving it as he juggled it up and down for a secure grasp.
“Wh-what was that for?”
“What was what for?” She blinked at him innocently.
“That—that—“ He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “I guess I really do need more sleep.”
“Come on,” she said impatiently, taking his hand. “Let’s go visit the Eiffel Tower.”
-8/21/08