Chapter Text
You’ve fallen asleep on the Express’s couch again. The gentle hum of the engine, the scent of coffee with notes of cinnamon and some other secret thing, and a recent expedition made it all too easy. Every time it’s quiet and still enough for you to hear the muted machinations of the Express you remember the train, this beautiful thing that propels you through so many adventures, is something she restored.
Most days this is just a simple fact that you affirm to yourself and some days, the weight of what that means halts your breath. Partially because even putting together a Hexanexus puzzle stresses you out, you can’t imagine reassembling an engine. But mostly because as far as you can remember, she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. Everything she does makes you admire how she does it.
Himeko is breathtaking.
So it’s no wonder that you’ve fallen asleep thinking about her. Your fingers loosen around your phone as you dip deeper into what you hope will be some dream of her golden eyes latching on to yours as she etches kisses down your chest.
You’re about to slip into sleep when something soft hits your face and startles you awake. A cloth napkin, smelling of coffee unfolds in the air and lands to cover your nose and mouth.
The phone lying on your chest goes flying to the ground as you jolt upwards, napkin falling.
You look over to the end of the couch and the red haired culprit smiles at you.
“I’ve been trying to get your attention, didn’t you get my texts?” Himeko says.
She’s not annoyed exactly, only a bit amused, voiced tinged with a slight whine for attention.
You groan, needing a second to let your brain adjust from thinking about her to seeing her.
“Umm.. my phone is on do not disturb,” you mumble.
Himeko rolls her eyes.
“You fell asleep looking at something, what was it?”
Shit. You think. You were looking at a photo of her before you fell asleep. Bold of you to do so with Himeko sitting so close to you. Then again, being called a hero gets to your head sometimes and encourages reckless behavior.
You glance toward your phone. It’s face down on the rug, closer to Himeko than you.
Fuck.
You launch yourself off the couch, stumbling toward it. But Himeko is faster.
She snatches it from the ground and flips it over. For a second, you vainly pray that it’s locked, but you know you’re too lazy to lock your phone, not wanting to deal with tracing the intricate pattern of circuitry every time you need to look at it.
Himiko’s face flushes. It’s lighter than the fiery red of her hair, but deep enough for you to know with certainty what’s on the screen.
“Oh, this is a beautiful photo of me.”
Her voice is light. Maybe it’s a bit of admiration or ego. Himeko isn’t self-absorbed by any means, but she’s confident enough to know that she’s gorgeous. It’s part of her charm.
The photo isn’t anything weird. You might be a little consumed by her, but it’s not obssessive.
It wasn’t even for you. That woman asked you to take it, Pamela. She was the one who was obssessed. You did take more than one photo, but that’s because you wanted to make sure you captured something that honored her elegance.
“Yeah. I was just looking through my photos. Reminiscing.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“Oh?”
Himeko swipes through the photos with a gloved fingertip. One, two, three, four, swipes. It’s too awkward to count any more.
“Well I did say you could take some photos of me. I’m not sure I thought you would save them.”
“They had a nice composition,” you answer.
You could die from embarrassment. Your eyes travel past her, wondering how thick the windows are on the Express. Maybe your bat could smash through them, sucking you into space. But everyone else probably doesn’t deserve to die for your fixation.
Himeko looks up from your phone. A little sigh of boredom before her lips curve into a small smile.
“Do you have a crush on me?” She asks bluntly.
You didn’t expect that. Now you think you actually will die.
“No?” You laugh.
Himeko laughs too.
How awkward.
“It’s okay a lot of people do. Welt got drunk once, if you can imagine that, and said he would marry me in another lifetime. March is pretty open about her flirtations with that affectionate charm of hers. Dan Heng, well… Maybe not him, he seems a little preoccupied with someone else,” she chuckles.
“Well, no…” You lean back to rest your shoulders on the couch and shrug. Nonchalance is kind of your thing.
“Anyway, don’t you have something with that Stellaron Hunter, Kafka?”
Himeko’s eyes narrow. That probably wasn’t the thing to say, but it’s not like it wasn’t obvious.
“I don’t know why you would think that. I hardly know her.”
It’s gone on long enough. One of you needs to leave. But it can’t be you, your knees are too weak to make it to your room.
“Whatever. Can I have my phone back?”
“Sure,” Himeko says. “Let me just make a photo album for you.”
You groan again, but let her. It will make things easier. Now that your affection is out in the open there’s no point in stopping her.
Before you know it she’s holding the phone up and taking photos of herself. Her outstretched arm holds the phone away from her face and your eyes traverse her wrist down her inner arm. There’s a bit of performance in her motions. It’s subtle, but you can tell that she likes that you’re looking at her.
You’re not naive enough to think it’s anything more than that, but you’re happy to give her the attention, to make her feel desirable. You think everyone should. She doesn’t deserve any less than that.
She tries multiple angles, the phone shutters at each. She ends the final photo with a wink before turning to you and tossing your phone back to your lap.
“Thanks,” you say.
“Aren’t you going to look at them?”
Her eyes glimmer expectantly, but that would be too much, right now.
“Later. I’m tired.”
“Suit yourself.”
Falling back onto the couch, you swing your legs up and grab the napkin she threw earlier, covering the rising warmth of your face.
The smell of coffee is so synonymous with her. As the scent fills your nose, you imagine the smell envelops you. It’s the same warmth you would feel with your face buried in her chest as her hand strokes the back of your neck, the leather tender and rough.
You feel the couch move as she stands, her dress rustling. The small clinks of her jewelry tells you she comes closer. The scent of her stronger, the heat of her, discernibly approaching.
Softly, her chest presses against your shoulder. The weight of her breasts deeply felt as she leans her face towards your own. Sensing her slight hesitation, you suck in air softly. Not to alarm her, but to tell yourself that you’re here, to bring your own attention to your mouth so you can ground yourself in what comes next.
Behind the napkin you feel her lips press firmly against yours. She opens her own mouth just enough for her breath to filter through the cloth.
She doesn’t linger.
You don’t breathe again until you hear the gentle slide of the parlor door. Your chest aches as you exhale. The tingling trace of her lips tangle with the soft thrum of the engine to lull you to sleep.