Mercurial Dreams – Chapter Thirteen

Author: tashiichaan
Rating: T
Genre: Romance, angst, humour
Featuring: Sakurai Sho
Banner designed by: tashiichaan
Story Summary: Hiroki never holds expectations for anything. She never expected to be promoted just 6 months into her job; she never expected her housemate to be a little more sane; but of all those damned unexpectations, she didn’t expect to find herself drawn into the life of Sakurai Sho. She didn’t expect to fall in love with him. And it all starts with a can of Coke.
Author’s note: My longest chapter yet – at 3,201 words!!!!!!! At first it was only at 2,600+ words, BEFORE EDITING, and while editing I kept adding the content and writing and writing without realising how much the chapter’s expanding XDDDDDDDDDDD

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Mercurial Dreams
Chapter Thirteen

“I wonder if it’s too rude to say your wallet is too fat for pleasure,” Hiroki gasped. She was standing in the middle of a spacious living room, gaping in unconcealed awe and envy at the Italian leather sofas, the 42-inch plasma TV, the vintage paintings displayed all over the wall behind the glass-top dining table. There was even a freakin’ chandelier hanging above the table! She could never afford this sort of luxury even if she saved up for five years and ate instant ramen everyday.

“Oh it’s nothing,” Jun brushed off lightly. He draped his jacket on the back of the sofa and rolled up his sleeves. “You guys make yourselves at home while I prepare.” And he disappeared into the kitchen without another word.

Ohno and Nino slumped lazily onto the couch. Ohno switched the TV on while Nino vigorously played his DS, constantly knocking his elbow against poor Ohno’s arm. Aiba went straight to terrorise Jun’s master bathroom, and Sho and Hiroki were left standing awkwardly at the entrance. They stared at each other before they turned away blushing.

“I’m… um… going to help Matsumoto-san,” Hiroki stuttered, and abruptly scrambled after Jun, following him into the kitchen.

“Can I help you with anything? Maybe with the cooking, or, or…” she offered, but she got all tongue-tied. She still felt very much as anxious as back when she was in the car. She went into an involuntary reminiscence of the fifteen wonderful minutes and shuddered at the image of her sitting comfortably on Sho’s lap.

Jun raised an eyebrow at her. “Not much, I’m cooking Italian tonight,” he said. “Perhaps you could help serve drinks? There’s beer in the refrigerator, and tea if you like…”

Hiroki didn’t budge at all. From the desperation in her eyes, she looked as if she was ready to go down on her knees and beg him, if necessary. She just didn’t want to be hanging around and having to face an awkward situation with Sho alone. Besides, there weren’t many places to hide in Jun’s flat, unless she counted locking herself in Jun’s room, or his bathroom, or even the balcony, but could she hide behind potted plants?

“Oh fine,” Jun sighed, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’ve pasta sticks and cans of tomato puree in the cupboard, could you get them for me please? You can start by cutting mushrooms and roll up meatballs.”

Hiroki immediately brightened up. “Hai!” she squealed, and went straight to fetch the items. As Jun directed her to the chopping board and the drawers for a knife, he searched the living room for Sho and found him sitting with Ohno and watching a variety show on TV. Not interacting with Hiroki at all, and that wasn’t the plan. Jun would have to get Aiba and come up with Plan B…

“Where’s Aiba?” Jun suddenly asked.

Hiroki shrugged absent-mindedly. She was slicing up butter mushrooms and stacking them neatly on a plate. Like Jun, she scanned around for Aiba and found no sign of him. “I swear I saw him going into your room…” she said idly.

Jun groaned dramatically. “Not again… which part of my room ‘stay out of my room’ doesn’t he understand?! Sho,” he called out to the living room, “could you come help me boil up the tomato puree? I’m going to go murder that baka if he touches my jewellery.”

Hiroki froze. She spun around, glinting knife in her hand, and frowned at Jun, silently begging him to retract his words, but he hadn’t noticed her. Sho turned around in his seat looking rather taken aback. “Me?” he asked meekly.

Jun strode out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on the small towel draped over his shoulder. “Yes, you. All you have to do is just pour them into a pot and wait for it to boil,” he explained, his grave expression not inviting any arguments.

Slowly, Sho nodded and slowly went to the kitchen. Even Nino overheard, because he paused his game (actually PAUSED HIS GAME) and peered at Jun cautiously. “Are you sure he isn’t going to poison us?” he questioned.

“I know what I’m doing,” Jun assured him with a wink. “Now, I just need Aiba. This calls for drastic action.” And he stomped into his bedroom. Nino wasn’t convinced, and he comforted a whimpering Ohno, who didn’t want to go home with food poisoning.

Sho entered the kitchen, and stopped short at the door when he saw Hiroki mixing the minced beef with trembling hands. “Oh, hey…” he paused. “Need help with that?”

“No,” was all Hiroki answered. She was half-clinging onto the minced beef, because her legs felt weak and if she wasn’t putting on a stalwart front, she would’ve crumbled to her knees. God, how could the atmosphere grow hotter to such strangling extent with just his presence? She didn’t remember ever having this sort of vulnerability around anyone…

“I got out the pot and the can opener for you,” she told him without looking up.

“Thanks…” and Sho went to the counter. He was standing so close to her. Their hips were almost touching, and awkward silence fell upon them, only the sound of meat thudding against the bowl and the indistinct sound of the TV filling their ears. Trying very hard to act nonchalant, Sho picked up the can opener. He tried to clip it onto the top of the can, but he couldn’t find the sharp clip to punch a hole through the tin. He spun the steel opener around and tried clipping the other side onto the edge of the can, even attempting to turn the handle, but nothing.

Unwillingly, he tapped Hiroki on the shoulder for help, but she was already gawking at him.

“Sakurai-san…” she started in a disbelieving voice, “…do you know how to use a can opener?”

“Of course!” Sho retorted heatedly, but oh it was a straight-out lie. He was already burning in humiliation.

“Firstly, you’re using the wrong end,” Hiroki instructed as though he couldn’t speak Japanese. “Here, let me show you.”

Hiroki took the can opener from him and demonstrated the correct way. She clipped the sharp ends onto the edge and deftly turned the handle, cutting a circular line around the top and then pulling it out. She handed the can opener back to Sho with a small smile. “Easy.”

“I knew that,” Sho lied, grumbling under his breath as he took the can opener. He suddenly gasped, “Argh, it’s oily!”

Hiroki blinked, and then held out her beef-smelling hands to him. “You didn’t seem to complain about my beefy hands when you were crying for help, to open a can!” she sniggered.

Sho narrowed his eyes and stepped closer, brandishing the can opener at her. “I was not crying for help!” he retorted.

They scowled at each other tersely, standing defensively with bolts of lightning flaring between their eyes. They still stood unmoving even when Ohno walked in casually, opened the refrigerator and delightedly got out a bottle of beer. He popped the lid off and took a sip, peering at the duo.

“Hiroki, you’ve got a piece of meat on your shirt,” he pointed out.

Hiroki paled. Instantly her head shot down and she found the middle of the chest area of her crisp, white linen shirt stained with red meat and chopped onions.

“This is one of my best shirts!” she cried in dismay. Quickly she went to the sink and attempted to wash off the stain. It worked, but considering it was a white shirt, it was going to leave a permanent and embarrassing mark.

“Sho-kun, aren’t you going to help her?” Ohno inquired curiously.

“Should I help her?” Sho asked, a flicker of concern in his voice.

Horrified, Hiroki took a small step away from him with her hand covered protectively over her chest. Sho looked perplexed, and when it dawned on him that Hiroki thought he was intentionally going to molest her, he quickly explained, “Hey, I don’t mean – I’m not—” his eyes roamed to the wet spot on her shirt for just a moment, and his voice faltered. His cheeks reddened and he looked away.

The wet spot was now clinging seductively to her skin and it revealed the lacy baby-pink bra she wore underneath. Hiroki had not known, until she cast her puzzled eyes first at Sho (suspiciously) and then down to her shirt.

“Oh my!” she squealed in terror, covering the spot even more fervently.

Sho rummaged through a drawer and fished out an apron, which he handed to her. “This should hide it, until it… dries up,” he said nervously.

In the matter of three seconds, Hiroki had grabbed the apron from him, looped it over her head, adjusted it and secured the strings tightly. Anxiously she made sure the apron covered the damp spot, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Her modesty was protected now.

She tipped her head up and immediately her eyes locked with Sho’s. A moment of uncertainty loomed in silence, and then, she chuckled. Her eyes lit up in amusement, prompting Sho’s face to ease up and a smile broke out. The tension was lifted from the atmosphere.

Jun and Aiba emerged from the room half an hour later, armed with the most ingenious pranks that would’ve shamed even Nino, but they were bewildered to find the duo chatting heartily in front of the stove. Hiroki was stirring the spaghetti sauce and listening attentively while Sho read out the instructions from an Italian recipe book he found in the cupboard. Not only that, they were actually laughing and joking and not an ounce of nerve-wracking apprehensiveness between them. Jun and Aiba gaped at each other, and then grinned.

Guess they didn’t need any pranks after all.

“When’s dinner ready, dammit!” Nino whined from the living room.

“Right now if you’re setting up the table!” Sho yelled back.

“I see you both coming along just fine,” Jun discerned in amazement, walking in with an equally-delighted Aiba.

“Where were you?!” Hiroki rounded on him, wailing. “We ended up cooking your dinner!”

“Our dinner, you mean,” Jun corrected. He opened a cupboard and pulled out a stack of starch-white plates. “Aiba and I will set up the table, and Ohmiya will be washing the dishes later!” he suggested loudly just so the two short men in the living room could hear.

“Screw you,” Nino cursed, finally and reluctantly turning off his game.

Dinner was so noisy and exuberant, Jun feared for the life of his delicate plates and silver cutlery. As Hiroki served them spaghetti and brought out the beer, Nino was loudly describing every exquisite detail of the five hours he spent trying to defeat the ultimate boss of his game. Aiba was loudly commenting how good the spaghetti was, and how delicious the meatballs were because they were cooked with immense love (at this, Sho and Hiroki made sure they looked everywhere except each other). Ohno, quietly but nevertheless making his point, commented on how amazing it was to actually eat a meal Sho cooked without getting a stomach ache.

“You can’t cook?!” Hiroki blurted.

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Jun replied, serenely chewing a meatball and downing it with wine.

“But he can cook katsudon,” Ohno filled her in helpfully, trying to save what was left of Sho’s domestic dignity.

Jun snorted. “He can only cook katsudon, and he almost knocked us out with his first attempt.”

Hiroki covered her mouth with her hand to hide her giggles. “Now that explains why you can’t even manage a can opener…” she smirked.

“C’mon, it’s not so bad!” Sho exclaimed in exasperation. “My mom cooks for me, and when I’m married I’ll just get my wife to cook!”

At the mere mention of ‘wife’, Hiroki dropped her fork in a loud clank. Everyone stared at her, and she murmured her apologies and quickly picked it back up, bowing her head so to hide her deep blushes.

After dinner, Jun ordered Ohno and Nino to clean up, which was met with strong resistance. Ohno gave in easily to Jun’s icy death glare, but Nino stubbornly refused, to which Jun practically dragged him by the collar to the kitchen and explained the absolutely brilliant idea he and Aiba came up with. Only then did Nino stop struggling and went to wash the dirty plates. Grudgingly.

Aiba, slightly tipsy after just two bottles of beer, stood in front of the TV in a defensive stance to block Sho and Hiroki’s view. “Ne, let’s play naked strip poker!” Aiba suggested.

Hiroki’s face fell. “Strip poker?” she repeated in horror.

“Well yeah, it’s normal poker but the loser takes off a piece of clothes in each round. Isn’t that interesting?!” Aiba squealed, and started giggling in his high-pitched voice at the thought of them all stark naked.

“How about drunken janken instead?” Jun suggested, already setting a quarter dozen of beer bottles on the coffee table and grinning. “We all play janken, and the loser of each round drinks up a whole bottle of beer!”

Hiroki was the very first to oppose. She sat upright and pleaded urgently, “But… but… I’m not—”

“I’m going to get you both drunk dead tonight,” Sho challenged. He stood up and rolled up his sleeves, smirking to an equally-challenged Jun.

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no. A single woman getting drunk in a house with five men wasn’t a good idea, Hiroki thought, terrified. It wasn’t like she didn’t trust them; she had faith that they wouldn’t take advantage of her, but still, her female instincts twisted around with her insecurities. In fact, she hadn’t even consumed alcohol in all of her life. She was about to admit it aloud, but Jun was already starting the game and forcefully made Hiroki join them.

Already in the first round, Hiroki lost. With all the men egging on her, she closed her eyes and gulped down all 0.4 litres of beer, and instantaneously felt a foreign swoosh in her head that made her a little dizzy.

In the second and third round, Sho lost, and he braved two continuous bottles of beer.

Fourth round, and Hiroki lost. Second bottle of beer.

Fifth round. Hiroki. Third bottle of beer.

Sixth round, Jun finally lost, downing a bottle of beer in four large gulps and levelling a glare at Sho, who cheered triumphantly.

Seventh round, and it was Hiroki again. She was now tipsy and slurring her words as she drank the beer hungrily, tipping the bottle upside down while leaning on Sho’s frame for support.

Eighth round, Aiba lost, and he didn’t need any obnoxious cheers to coax him, just as he drank the beer hungrily in one straight go.

Finally, the ninth round came, and again! Hiroki lost. She could hardly hold onto the beer bottle, which slipped out of her hands and was caught by Sho’s outstretched hand.

“Drink! Drink! Drink!” Aiba cheered, brandishing an empty beer bottle at Hiroki.

Hiroki blurrily reached out for the beer bottle again, but Sho put it back on the coffee table. “No, enough for you,” he said sternly.

Her glinting eyes were half closed and cloudy, she could hardly stand on her own feet and her face was as red and blotchy as a tomato. Sho was fine – he was still quite sober. Jun seemed pretty sober too, judging by the satisfied grin he was casting at Hiroki supporting herself against Sho. Ohno and Nino were sitting on the couch and watching them in amusement. Aiba and Hiroki, however, had gone to the drunken state of no return.

“No, let me!” Hiroki slurred adamantly. She grabbed the beer bottle and drank it all before Sho could stop her, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Pointing the empty bottle at Jun, brandishing it in the air like a sword, she cried out hoarsely, “I win! I win! Look at me, I’m wayyyy better than youuuuu, Hatsumomoooooo!”

Nino and Ohno roared with laughter. Nino clutched his stomach and yelled hysterically, “Hatsumomo! Cute name!” while slapping his fist on the couch. Sho grinned in amusement, but not for long because Hiroki almost doubled over and Sho patted her back to soothe her coughing fits. Jun pursed his lips in irk.

“I want… I want… I want I want I want I want…” Hiroki moaned, dramatically putting her hand on her forehead to think deeply.

“What is it?” Sho asked softly.

“Something… it’s in the bedroom. Let’s go!” Hiroki gasped, and amidst her giggling she tottered like any normal drunkard would towards the wrong direction – the kitchen. Sho grabbed her and helplessly tried to keep her balanced.

“I command you to bring me to my chamber!” Hiroki bellowed, punching Sho’s shoulder weakly and giggled as though she found it hilarious.

“Fine, fine!” Sho said in defeat. Slinging an arm over his shoulder, he trotted over to Jun’s bedroom in large strides with Hiroki trying to keep up with him. As they entered the bedroom, they didn’t know that four pairs of eyes were boring into their backs, and in jubilation they silently high-fived with one another.

In the darkness only with weak moonlight shining through the bay window, Sho could make out a king-sized bed in the middle of the room. Dumbstruck, he didn’t know what to do with Hiroki in a darkened bedroom. He could feel desire seeping into his senses, his body reacting to the thickening cloud in his head…

His eyes widened at the perverse thoughts in his head. Coughing loudly, Sho said, “Hiroki, let’s go out instead…”

She ignored his word. “Come here,” she commanded, backing away to the bed.

Sho followed her. He had no idea why he was even doing this, but he had no time to think because Hiroki suddenly tripped on her own feet. She gasped aloud and fell backwards, and Sho reached out for grab her and they both fell… and fell… and fell… on the bed.

Groaning, Sho pushed himself up on his elbows and squinted in the darkness, only to find two cloudy eyes staring up at him. He realised he was pressed into the length of Hiroki’s lithe body, and her hands were creeping up his arms. She clung onto him and rolled on the bed, bringing a yelping Sho with her. She was now on top of him and her face was just inches from his.

“Hiroki…” Sho breathed raggedly.

“You,” Hiroki patronised, “are such an insufferable idiot. I don’t know how I can ever stand you and your big head, but you… you…” She leaned so much closer that their lips was a mere centimetre from touching. Sho had stopped breathing. Unconsciously he placed his hands on her back.

“What…?”

Hiroki pulled at his shirt pleadingly and muttered, her beer-breathed mouth breathing on him, “You. Are. The most. Goddamn good-looking. Asshole. I have ever. Met. God, why are you so irresistible?”

In the next second, she lowered her face and kissed him fully on the mouth, and ripped his shirt off.

~