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Karma doesn’t go out to restaurants very often. When he does, he sits alone at the bar, sort-of drinking and taking in the setting that isn’t familiar. He’s doing so tonight, in a fairly nice restaurant that seems to be all about atmosphere. The lighting is dim, each table with a lamp dangling over it to give a sense of ‘only ones in the world.’ It smells like poorly chosen expensive cologne and excessively artificial perfume, and a little like alcohol.
Speaking of alcohol, Karma takes a slow sip of his scotch. Drinking scotch alone at a bar makes him feel like some sixty-year-old man, desperate to forget his wife and four kids that left him because of a gambling problem. It makes him grateful that he is not in that situation, or in a post-situation-he-needs-to-drink-to-forget.
A laugh that is clearly uncomfortable reaches his ears, and Karma focuses on the sound. Probably coming from one of the two individuals at the booth in the row to his left, one from the last. They’d both been sitting on the same side of the table. An individual with blue hair was on the inside. He’d looked small. Now that Karma thinks about it, maybe that was more body language than true stature? Sure, they probably were short, less broadly-built than he is, but that’s too small to not be shrinking away from something—something, in this case, probably being the one trapping him within.
Karma turns his head, just slightly, to listen in. He witnesses a lot of dramatic dates at restaurants, and it seems this is going to be one of them.
“...like, super loaded, I get whatever I want, even after I’ve moved out,” brags one. Probably the trapper. “My dad gets a hold of all the good stuff, if y’know what I mean.”
“Um, not, uh, illegal stuff, right?”
Karma can practically see the guy leaning in and winking, cocky and maybe a little drunk, even with his back turned. “Not in public, at least.”
A pause. Karma assumes it’s the trapped taking a sip of their drink. “Ah. Well. Uh, so, what do you do? Work-wise, I mean.”
The trapper laughs. “Didn’t you hear me? My dad’s looooaded! Pretty much, I don’t gotta lift a finger!” He stops, clears his throat. “But uh, what about you, princess? What’s your life like?”
Karma is watching out of the corner of his eye, now, and sees the trapped tense up, sucking in a breath. “I told you, I’m not a girl.”
The trapper leans in closer, all up in the individual’s face. “You’re pretty enough to be,” he says, but rather than sounding flirty, it sounds more like he’s trying too hard to be smoother than he is.
The trapped has been scooting back throughout the exchange, apparently, and is now pressed against the wall. “Uh, I think I, um, have to use the restroom, please excuse me,” he says, head down.
“Aw, we just got here,” whines the guy, throwing an arm around the other’s shoulders. They tense. “You’re not tryina ditch me, are ya?”
“N-no, I just… um. Do you, um, mind, giving me a little space?”
“You’re adorable all flustered like this.”
“P-please don’t touch—”
In a heartbeat, Karma is standing over their table, snatching up the guy’s full glass of ice water, and splashing it over the owner’s head—making sure to get some on his lap, where a bulge is slightly evident.
“What the fuck, dickhead?” snaps the asshole, dragging himself out of the booth and getting in Karma’s space. An intimidation tactic. Too bad Karma’s the one to do all the intimidating. It’s easy, considering that this guy is shorter than him, and thinner than him, and simply less imposing altogether.
Karma matches the closeness, towering over the guy, glaring lazily at him down his nose. “This coming from the one that had a hand on his unwilling date’s thigh. I think I should be the one saying that to you. ”
“The fuck? Mind your own business! She was all over me!”
Raising his eyebrows, Karma glances over to the individual in the booth. Their back is against the wall, hugging their torso, watching the exchange with wide eyes. “Can’t say that’s the pose of someone that was ‘all over you’ a few seconds ago. Looks like a frightened kitten, to me.”
The guy takes a sloppy fighting stance. “I’m gonna kick your ass, you—!”
An instant later, the guy is on the floor, perhaps a little unconscious. Karma waves over a waitress. “‘Scuse me! This guy spilled his water, I guess he was lightheaded or something, because he passed out right after. D’you think you could call him a doctor? Ah, and he said that he’d be paying for us,” he gestures to himself and the individual, which he reaches over to take by the wrist and gently pull out of the booth. “Thank you, sorry about the trouble,” Karma says, using his Charisma Voice to slip out of any other questions and complete the escape.
It’s just brisk enough outside to raise goosebumps, but Karma made sure to wear something warm, since he’d walked rather than drove. However, that seems to be the opposite instance for his current companion, because they clutch their arms and commence shivering immediately. Poor kid. Karma slips out of his jacket and places it over the individual’s shoulders. They look up at him, surprised, and then give him the smallest of smiles.
“So,” Karma says, leaning against the brick wall, “what were you doing on a date like that?”
“It was, ah, prearranged. A coworker said we might ‘hit it off.’” They shudder a little, but not from the cold this time. “Thanks for, y’know, the water thing. He wouldn’t let me out, and he…” They look away, sighing. “Just, thanks.”
“It’s no problem,” Karma says. He lowers his chin, meeting their eyes as soon as they look up again. “But, if you feel up to it, I could take you somewhere that isn’t here, and treat you like a human being rather than a dressed-up piece of meat.”
Wide blue eyes stare up at him, shock and disbelief in their depths. Then they narrow suspiciously. “You do know I’m not a girl, right? Because I’m not.”
“Doesn't matter to me,” Karma says, shrugging the shoulder that isn’t against the wall. “Just tell me what your name and pronouns are and we can go from there. Like speed-dating, but without the timer and another date lined up.”
“So, a date. You used another form of a date to describe a date.”
“That seems to be the case, huh?” Karma makes a show of raising his wrist to check his watch. “Okay. Thirty seconds. Tell me what you want me to know before the date officially starts. Go.”
“You can’t combine the two after agreeing they’re different!”
“Twenty-eight!”
“Uh, I’m Shiota Nagisa, I use ‘he’ pronouns, I don’t like talking about my family, I’m a student-teacher right now, I have a pet python named Koro, I don’t really go on dates often so I have no idea what to say, um, I’m also kind of uncomfortable with PDA, I eat sweets more than I probably should, my favorite color is probably blue? And my roommate is home tonight so—”
“Aaaaand, time!” Well, three seconds ‘til, so pretty much. Karma leans a touch closer to the individual now known to be Nagisa. “That last little tidbit sounded like a hint of some sort, I’d say.”
Nagisa blushes pink. It’s adorable. “I, um, didn’t mean to imply anything! It just came tumbling out, sorry if I—”
Karma shuts him up by winking, which has him blushing even more. Karma decides he’s going to get Pantone to name a color specifically after that shade. ‘The Color Of Nagisa’s Cheeks When He Blushes.’ It’d sell out, he knows it. “No worries. I’d want to show off my place, anyway. I recently invested in some incredible new sheets, and I do need a second opinion.”
Nagisa grins. “If they’re anything like your jacket, I can’t wait.”
This is the cue Karma takes to push away from the bricks and hold out his arm. “If you’re that excited, we’ll go straight there. I’ll cook, brag about the impressive amount of trophies on the shelves, and then we can enjoy the silkiness of my sheets for a few hours before sleeping on them.”
There’s barely a beat of hesitation before Nagisa raises his hand, only to lace his fingers through Karma’s rather than holding his arm. “Aren’t you quite the planner?” he jokes.
Karma laughs, loud and full. “Oh, Nagisa, just wait ‘til you see our to-do list for that sheet check.”
“Will I have to take notes?”
“Well, if we follow my schedule correctly, I won’t give you the time.”
Nagisa’s palm gets warm in Karma’s.
TO-DO:
- Start cooking, complain about something simple, get Nagisa’s help. Kiss him.
- Show off certificates and awards. Just because you mentioned you would.
- Comment that the couch isn't as comfortable as your mattress, which, coincidentally, is the same one the nice sheets are on.
- Check Pantone’s office hours. Call after morning sheet-check.