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Sasha loved cons, she really did, but just not when it came to the food. Don’t get her wrong; she loved the food. Whether it was freshly wrapped bentos or hot steaming katsudon in a bowl, it all made her mouth water and the pit of her stomach ache and groan with the glorious torture of appetite.
What she didn’t love, however, was how horrendously over-priced it all was. Because oh, how her wallet did cry. It cried, and so did Sasha on most occasions. A tiny cup of green bubble tea for five euro? Hell, no – but she’d end up buying it anyway because when else does she get the opportunity to have bubble tea? Who cared if half the “Japanese” snacks offered at most cons were actually Korean, (or, god forbid, American), that shit was delicious and it deserved to end up in Sasha’s stomach one way or another.
What Sasha loved even less, what made the price question seem like a mere inconvenience rather than a catastrophic struggle, was the exact moment when someone’s arm bumped into her shoulder as she was making her way to a table, knocking her off balance and sending her paper plate sailing gracefully through the air only to land with a dejected thud.
Food-side down, of course. Not only had she literally just spent half a fucking hour in line to get this shit, but she’d also used up the last few euros she had left in her purse which she’d actually been saving to buy Connie a gift. She’d just been so hungry and she’d thought it would be worth it because fuck it smelt so good—
She dropped to the ground in horror, tears springing unbidden to her eyes, and gathered up the plate like she would a precious piece of shattered porcelain. Sasha didn’t often have qualms about picking things up off the ground – five second rule, right? But this had been a plate full of spicy tantalizing beef stew and, well, that shit was wet. And this was the floor of a con. Sasha didn’t even want to know what unmentionable substances might end up on the floor of a con.
“I’m sorry,” said a quiet voice from above her, barely audible over the din surrounding them. “I didn’t see you there.”
Sasha stood up shortly, fist clenching around the remains of her ruined lunch. She spun around, pony tail flying with the motion, ready to rip this asshole a new one because how dare they—… oh. The sharp words died abruptly in her throat when she locked eyes with the beautiful goddess standing before her. Holy hot potato on a stick, this girl was fine.
She had gorgeous silk hair draped across her shoulders like a sash, and eyes a curious shade of gunmetal grey behind thick lashes that made Sasha wonder if she was wearing contacts. She was wearing a form-fitting sleeveless vest and black leather pants, which didn’t appear to be a cosplay as far as Sasha knew. A blood-red scarf was wrapped loosely around her shoulders despite the stifling heat of the summer day and cramped space of the convention center, though the material was light and the bright color sharpened the edges of the girl’s face, highlighted the cut of her jawline.
She was the kind of pretty that made Sasha momentarily lose her capabilities of language. The kind of pretty that made her wish she’d put a little more effort into her hair and clothes this morning, rather than throwing together the first things she found in her closet and pointedly ignoring her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
The moment of awkward silence stretched on a few heartbeats too long before Sasha realized she was still staring blankly. The other girl hadn’t looked away though, although the expression on her face was more or less apathetic, rather than apologetic. Sasha bristled in response, regaining her spirit as she motioned mournfully at her plate.
“That was my lunch that you just sabotaged.”
“It wasn’t intentional; I apologize.”
Sasha’s eyes narrowed. The girl still looked like she didn’t give a flying fuck either way. Gorgeous or not, that was not acceptable. She only hoped the bitch hadn’t seen the tears in her eyes a moment ago.
“Do you have any idea how much that cost?” Sasha snapped, a ball of anger and distress tumbling within her and gradually gaining momentum as she continued. “And how long I had to wait in line? This stuff isn’t cheap! Nothing at cons is. I’m broke as fuck now and I haven’t eaten since this morning. It… it smelt so good.” She nearly moaned in agony; if she closed her eyes she could almost taste the succulent beef morsel melting on her tongue. “I can’t believe this.”
The girl shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her unsettling gaze sliding away from Sasha’s face to focus on the floor. Good, Sasha thought viciously. She better fucking feel bad.
“I’ll buy you lunch,” she offered in the same controlled tone of voice as before, which made Sasha wonder if she just always spoke like that, like the world could rage and spit at her and she’d just stand there calmly, the eye of the storm.
Sasha crossed her arms over her chest and glanced away. The rest of the con-goers streamed around them like fish around two boulders, some of them giving the pair dirty looks for unnecessarily blocking the path. She knew she was pouting childishly, but decisions were hard. If she accepted the offer, it felt like giving in and she wasn’t ready to forgive yet. But if she refused… well… that meant no lunch at all today.
The other girl breathed out a small puff of air. “Come on, it’s the least I could do,” she reasoned, extending a hand in an awkward invitation, or maybe a placating gesture. Sasha nearly whimpered: look at those biceps, this girl even had beautifully muscled Korra-arms! It wasn’t fair. No one should be allowed to walk in public looking this pretty.
“I eat a lot,” she snipped, cocking her hip to the side and raising an eyebrow in challenge. When the other girl just shrugged, unimpressed, Sasha bit back a cruel grin. Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
She proceeded to drag the girl back to the stand she’d just left, requesting the large serving size of her spicy beef stew this time. It turned out her new benefactor even had a VIP pass to the con which gave her access to a separate line and cut their waiting time down by more than half. This was especially handy, because Sasha didn’t particularly want to stand in line for ages in awkward silence with a stranger she still felt pretty damn bitter about. Regardless, she was almost ready to worship the ground under this girl’s feet by the time they walked away from the booth, Sasha already digging in with gusto. Holy fuck, it was even better than she’d imagined it would be! Her stomach growled in appreciative agreement. Somehow, she always seemed to get hungrier once she started eating.
“You’re not getting anything?” Sasha mumbled through a mouthful of food, juice running down the corner of her lips, and feeling only slightly guilty at the disturbed look the pretty girl gave her.
She shook her head, hair swinging softly across her forehead. “No, I already ate.” Sasha had the strange desire to touch it, to see if it really was as soft and smooth as it looked, reflecting the convention center’s artificial lights in tiny white sparkles against a backdrop of deep midnight.
“What’s your name, by the way?” she asked, fishing out a scrap of tissue from her purse to wipe her mouth with, and sticking out her tongue to try and alleviate the glowing heat from the spicy food that brought color to her cheeks and made her lips feel like they were on fire. “I’m Sasha.”
“Mikasa.”
Sasha blinked at her in surprise. A Japanese name? She hadn’t even noticed, though the texture of Mikasa’s black hair and the subtle slant to her eyes should have alerted Sasha to the fact she wasn’t necessarily white. Not that that changed anything; it was just unusual in this part of town.
“Cool. Hey, you think I could get something else to go with this? It’s kind of burning my mouth.” Sasha sent Mikasa her sweetest, most innocent smile, though the other girl didn’t seem particularly affected.
Mikasa tucked her chin into the fabric of her scarf. “Do what you wish.”
That was all the encouragement Sasha needed to hear. A part of her felt guilty for taking advantage of the kindness of a stranger (she’d more than repaid her for the ruined plate already), but Sasha shrugged the feeling off. She was probably never going to see this girl again, and if she got an amazing free meal out of it all? Well, she was going to milk the opportunity as best she could.
Speaking of milk… Sasha dragged Mikasa straight through a throng of Naruto cosplayers to a different food-stand she’d made a mental note of earlier, probably photobombing a bunch of pictures in the process. She got Mikasa to buy her a Calpis soda there which she downed in about thirty seconds, but which did wonders to sooth her burning tongue.
Since Mikasa didn’t appear to have anything better to do – or at least, she never acted like she had any other commitments to attend to – Sasha managed to lead her across the entire convention center without protest. Mikasa didn’t talk much, but Sasha was on such a food high she didn’t let that bother her, and chattered away into the void as they weaved their way through crowds and past stand after stand of merchandise. Sure, Connie would have made a better conversational partner in this moment, but Connie was probably more broke than she was.
She told Mikasa how her best friend had come down with a nasty stomach bug a day before the con started, and rather than waste her very expensive ticket, Sasha had decided to go alone and shop for the both of them. She’d gone to all the signings and panels she and Connie had wanted to visit yesterday, which left today for merch and food. Well, one of those things had kind of fallen by the wayside…
By the end of the next hour, Sasha had accumulated a bowl of carrot kinpira to complement her remaining beef stew, along with a packet of bokun habanero potato rings which she snacked on happily as they walked, and one of those strange marble soda things that Mikasa informed her were actually called “ramune.”
She struggled with punching in the marble ball for so long that Mikasa eventually took pity on her and finished the job with barely an effort, handing the rattling bottle back with an amused smirk playing across her lips. It was the first time that entire afternoon Sasha had seen so much as a recognizable emotion cross Mikasa’s face, and it stopped her in her tracks.
She stared down at the bottle in her hands, breathing in the sticky sweet scent of lime that wafted up through the open top.
“Mikasa… aren’t you going to say something?” she murmured, swooshing the liquid around the bottle absently.
“What about, your evident lack of arm strength?”
Sasha looked up sharply, not sure how to take this, dare she say, playful side of her usually stoic acquaintance. Was Mikasa opening up to her? Was she perhaps not always this emotionally distant around her friends?
“No,” Sasha flushed with sudden guilt and embarrassment. “I meant, about how I’m horribly abusing your generosity right now?”
Mikasa sighed, rolling her shoulders in a lazy stretch. “I don’t mind. It’s my money; I can do with it what I want. Right now, that’s spending it on you.”
“Wow, you sound like a sugar daddy,” Sasha laughed despite herself. “So if I said I wanted some mochi ice cream to finish this off, you wouldn’t complain?”
Mikasa raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, looking Sasha right in the eye for a long moment. The brunette felt her cheeks growing warmer by the second, but she held the gaze until Mikasa looked away with a huff that might have been a laugh if it wasn’t, you know, Mikasa.
“Go for it. But if you’re sick tonight, it’s not my fault.”
“You’d be surprised how much I can stomach,” Sasha quipped in reply. She took a sip from her drink, then tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear and shot Mikasa a sidelong glance. “You’re sure you don’t want to share it with me? I feel so bad. You won’t turn down mochi though I mean, come on, it’s mochi.”
Mikasa shook her head, steering Sasha back towards the ice cream stand without her even noticing. “I’m not big on sweets.”
“That’s a lie; you’re totally a sweet-tooth.” Mikasa shot her an offended look, but Sasha just grinned lopsidedly at her. “Am I right? Please. Have some mochi with me. These are the ice cream filled ones so, which flavor do you like?”
“Sasha…”
“Which flavor do you like?”
Eventually Mikasa caved under Sasha’s enthusiasm, and they ended up sitting against the inner wall of the convention building sucking on green tea and vanilla mochi balls and watching other con-goers amble past. Sasha stretched her legs out in front of her, patting her stomach contentedly.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this complete in ma’ life.”
Mikasa snorted, but said nothing in reply, eyes cast in shadow as she picked at her bowl.
“Seriously, thank you. I don’t know how I can ever repay you but you’re like the kindest person I’ve ever met. I totally forgive you for bumping in to me, like that wasn’t even your fault. I was just starved and I get grouchy when my stomach’s empty, ya know?” Sasha knew she was rambling, and probably slipping back into her old hometown accent, but she felt too good to care. “When I’m hungry, most people just tell me suck it up and get my own shit, they don’t even share with me ‘cause they think I’ll eat the whole thing. Not even Connie trusts me with his food.” He probably had good reason not to, but Mikasa didn’t need to know that. “I mean, not that I only care about the food,” she amended awkwardly, realizing how single-minded that sounded. “You’re really nice too. Not just ‘cause ya paid for my lunch.” She waved her hands about in an attempt to convey her meaning.
“I don’t mind,” Mikasa answered, apparently oblivious to Sasha’s social ineptitude. “You’re better company than…” She trailed off into a murmur. “This day didn’t turn out like I was expecting it to.”
Sasha hoped that was a good thing, though she assumed Mikasa meant it as a compliment. “Did ya come here alone?” she asked, realizing that she hadn’t really learned anything about this girl except her name and that she didn’t seem to understand why Sasha would scream and ask for a photo whenever she came across her favorite cosplayed characters.
“Oh no, I came with my brother and his boyfriend.” Mikasa’s expression suddenly darkened, and Sasha swallowed nervously at the sudden shift in atmosphere. Damn, Mikasa could be scary too. Somehow, that wasn’t all that surprising a revelation. This girl may well be the kindest person Sasha had met in a while, but she was also pretty… intense. “Thank god I didn’t have to stick with them all day,” Mikasa bit out sharper than her usual tone of voice.
Boyfriend? Sasha’s interest perked despite her sudden apprehension. Mikasa’s reaction could only mean one of two things, and Sasha bit harshly into her ice cream to prepare herself for her next inquiry.
“So you’re uh, what, not okay with ‘em?” She asked, trying to ignore how her gums had frozen at the sudden contact with cold mochi filling. Mikasa shook her head vehemently, and Sasha deflated. “Aw no. Don’t tell me you’re that ‘yeah I’m gonna shun my gay family member even if they’re family’ kind a’ person,” she snapped, irrationally frustrated.
Mikasa’s brow furrowed, and she looked up at Sasha in confusion for a long moment. “What? Of course not, I’m lesbian.” Sasha’s heart froze somewhere in her throat and she chocked on her mouthful of mochi. “I just don’t trust that shorty-Mc-shorty with my Eren, that’s all,” Mikasa continued heatedly, seemingly unaware of Sasha’s plight. “They’re also very much fans of PDA and I’d rather not see my brother tongue-fuck his boyfriend every time someone asks for their picture.”
“Oh, t-they’re cosplaying together?” Sasha choked out with watery eyes as she tried to silently make the food go down the right way again without letting Mikasa know.
“Mm.”
Sasha couldn’t help but let out a wistful sigh: she’d always wished she could couple-cosplay with someone, but Connie thought it was stupid and she didn’t really have any other friends with common interests. Maybe this ‘Eren’ could convince his sister to—dammit, Sasha, no.
Sasha picked at her food moodily, good mood starting to evaporate. “So yer a lesbian, huh?” she repeated, avoiding looking at Mikasa. “Girlfriend didn’t want to come to the con with you, or what?”
She could feel Mikasa’s unwavering gaze on her for what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds. Enough time to let her cheeks heat, though, and she internally cursed her pale skin that blushed so easily.
Mikasa cleared her throat. “She…” And Sasha’s face fell at the word. Well damn, that meant she wasn’t single. Mikasa was gauging her reaction carefully, letting the word hang heavy like poison in the air between them. “She’s not currently my girlfriend,” Mikasa continued deliberately, “but if I’m lucky, I might be able to count this as our first date.”
Sasha frowned. But… she’d been with Mikasa almost this entire day, so where the fuck was this elusive – oh.
Sasha blushed furiously, heart stopping in her chest and then kicking into gear a second too late in a stutter that sucked the air from her lungs. She coughed into her fist to hide the fact that she was flailing inside.
“I, um, don’t think she will accept that,” Sasha said slowly, fingers trembling around her spoon. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mikasa’s composure shift minutely into disappointment.
“Oh. My mistake.”
“No,” Sasha couldn’t stop the grin from spilling out as she turned to face the other girl. “I think this was an absolutely terrible first date: all she did was eat and make ya pay for it!” Mikasa eyed her for a moment in surprise and then chuckled, looking down at her hands with the faintest hint of a flush to her smooth cheeks. “I think she should take you out on a proper date to make up for this terrible first impression, if you’ll have her,” Sasha smiled genuinely, feeling tendrils of warmth filling her up inside the way not even the most succulent meal could ever quite emulate.
Mikasa licked her lips, as if her mouth had gone dry. Or, maybe as if Sasha was a particularly tantalizing snack she’d just set her sights on.
“Well, how does Friday night sound?”