The sleeping man (Hakuouki modern AU - Hijikata)

Blunder

Try as she might, Sarah couldn't tear herself away from Toshizō. And even though the transfer list hung like Damocles' sword over her head, she kept returning for more. From the moment his head had touched her shoulder in the train, all her senses steered to him. Him, and only him. Never before had her heart been so thoroughly enthralled by a man. To think that with his crazy life, he still made time for her was a privilege.

Hence the reason why her hands felt so clammy as she stirred, over and over, that roast that gently simmered in company of round potatoes. Tonight, she was cooking. At her place. Meaning they would be away from prying eyes and the very annoying - no PDA lest you offend conventional eyes -street. It would also betray how he handled cultural shock.

She'd been genuinely interested and delighted by many of the traditional food they had eaten at the Matsuri. How would he fare, facing British cooking ? Secretly, Sarah hoped he would enjoy that piece of her that came from overseas. And deep, very deep in her subconscious, she surmised that if it went well, then she could maybe, consider a future with Toshizō.

In the background, a disc of Ludovico Einaudi played, soothing piano notes that failed at settling the heavy beat of her heart. Another sprinkle of salt, and she replaced the cover over the pot.

He arrived, of course, right on time. Her all or nothing man. And as usual, he just took her breath away. Tie discarded, open collar and hair framing his sculpted jaw, Toshizō was the epitome of masculine beauty. In his hands, a couple of daifuku. Sarah squealed in delight, and dragged him to the bar that separated kitchen from living room. Shoes discarded, he took in the luxury of her apartment – paid by the company – as she busied herself with a cast iron teapot.

His eyes roamed over polished floors, finding the place neat and clean. A large bay faced the inner courtyard, a few trees dancing in the wind. The place gave a peaceful vibe that suited Sarah's personality, for he'd glimpsed at the contemplative soul hidden beneath her bubbly exterior. So alike his own moods; she did not yet he enjoyed writing haiku. Overall, it certainly was an expensive apartment, and he marvelled at the light that the high floor offered.

The smell of tea, freshly brewed, wafted to his nose the next minute; he turned to Sarah as she settled beside him. After their last, heated make-up session under the cherry tree, he berated himself for feeling so shy. But to be invited in a woman's home was a step that could very well lead to another level of intimacy. And even if, deep down, he knew instinct would lead him, he still wondered if he'd be up to the task after so many years of celibacy.

A rasping sound called his attention to the kitchen counter where a lovely plate had slid his way. The daifuku resided within, white round against the deep blue ceramic; Toshizō's lips quirked.

"Sweets before dinner ?"

"Can't wait," she shrugged, pouring two cups of steaming tea. "These lovelies will be perfect with the sencha."

Toshizō grunted his assent, amused by Sarah's antics. Her smile, genuine, told him she was truly happy to host him. If her apartment was of higher standing than he was used to, he did not feel unwelcome. Before he could grab his cup, Sarah slid from the stool to face him. For once, they were at even level; she crooked her finger at him, a command to learn over. He obliged her, only to receive a gentle kiss. Her lips, supple and soft, greeted his with both eagerness and, dare he hope, pleasure.

"There," she murmured against his mouth. "I'll have to decide whether the daifuku or your lips are sweeter."

Stunned, he watched the vixen perch back on her stool to attack the delicacy. Sometimes, her bluntness really floored him, but he couldn't find the heart to scold her, especially when her eyes sparkled like an ocean under the summer sun. A plain black t-shirt adorned her chest; he would have overlooked it entirely if the collar had not slid off her shoulder, revealing an expense of creamy skin that called his touch. Light blue trousers moulded her crossed legs, the perfect colour to highlight her eyes.