When his ex moves out, Taichi's classy apartment is suddenly intolerably empty. So hefills it up withformer model for a roommate, only she's just a'friend'. Right. Like that's stopped him before…. AU
Disclaimer: I don't own. Anything, come to think of it. Including the title of this fic. I explain: "Only Alive" is a song by Jars of Clay.
Author's Note: It's back. Altered, but you can still see similarities. Also, I'm into recurring characters, so Taichi's butler Li from my story "Been There" is back and better than ever here.
I'm only alive with you
I can't get by and I won't get through
So put me in the river and let me say I do
I'm only alive with you
"Only Alive" by Jars of Clay
"Oh, God," a young man moaned in despair, still feeling nauseous as he recalled the horrible, painful events of the morning so far, banging his head on the desk. "Why me?"
"This from the most sought after bachelor in Tokyo?" Izumi Koushiro asked dryly. He tapped his clipboard with his pen and sighed, rather shaken up himself from witnessing the event. "Besides, you asked for it."
Yagami Taichi turned his face to the side and glared at him, though it was far from menacing considering half his face was squished against the wooden top of the desk. In fact, his chief assistant had to stop himself from laughing and forced himself to look away, hiding his smile behind a hasty cough. His boss pretended to ignore it. Instead, he sighed dramatically and leaned back in his leather swivel chair. He raised his hands behind his head and slowly spun around in lazy circles.
"I don't love her. I don't know where the hell she got that idea."
Koushiro tried hard not to roll his eyes. "You romanced her, Taichi, of course she's going to think you think she's special."
"One of these days, you're going to fall head over heels for a girl who's going to treat you just like you deserve, and then maybe you'll see the light."
Taichi raised an innocent eyebrow. "Aren't you just waiting for that?"
"With my camera fully loaded," his redheaded friend smirked.
His young boss turned away and looked out the huge windows of the embassy. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on the glass, staring down at the tiny people and zooming cars below. Then he yawned, "Then I hope the wait goes well for you. Do you want to go to lunch?"
Koushiro sat up.
"It's nine-thirty in the morning," he said in disbelief.
"Koushiro, I hired you to work for me, not mother me." He stood up and stretched. "So, do you want to?"
His friend stood as well and shook his head. "Sorry. I have work to do. Including fixing the damage you've done by breaking up with Kiriko today. You better hope this doesn't affect our relations too much…."
Taichi leaned over the desk.
"We'll be fine. It's not personal, it's political, remember? And you work too much. You have to learn to relax, take things as they come. Like me," he added confidently.
Koushiro smiled wryly. "Miyako wants you to come for dinner tomorrow."
"After what happened last time?"
Koushiro winced and Taichi grinned, folding his arms over his chest. "Well, just don't mention the cousin incident, and maybe she won't say anything either. But she says she doesn't want you alone, especially now that Li's on holiday."
"I am never alone," he scoffed. Then he winked. "At least, not for long."
His friend groaned.
"Ah, don't worry about it. I can handle women."
"Hell hath no fury, Taichi, hell hath no fury…." Koushiro waved and closed the door behind him.
Taichi grinned and sank back on his chair. He pulled open a drawer under his desk and dug through the stash of junk that had piled up over the years for his wallet and keys. He found the keys and dropped them on the desk, frowning as he bent his head low over the open space to squint into the mess. Reminding himself to have his secretary empty the drawer before it overflowed and smothered him alive one day, he finally grabbed his worn leather wallet.
He paused now to stare at it, a faint smile playing on his lips. He ran his thumb over the soft brown leather, once sleek and shiny but now reduced to its current state by incessant use. Instinct made him open it and stare at the first flap of clear plastic film, empty now. He closed it.
Too bad, Koushiro. You missed your chance.
With a long sigh, he slipped his wallet into his back pocket and then left his office.
"Neela, hold my calls," he told his secretary, who was asleep at her desk and didn't hear him. Taichi stopped and stared at the old woman, her plastic nose the only thin part on her saggy, overly done face.
"Neela?" he asked, irritated.
The woman snorted and drooled on the desk.
Incredibly disgusted, he grabbed a post-it from the desktop, scribbled her dismissal note on it, and stuck it to her forehead. Stopping at the bathroom to wash his hands, he took the elevator down to the last floor, leaning against the back wall moodily.
What was with secretaries? He'd fired fifteen of them in the past three years alone. The only good one he had was some guy fresh out of graduate school who kept trying to hit on him, but at least he had a great work ethic. When the man got married to some Australian actor, though, he left without even a two-week notice, though that good-bye had been one of the better kisses Taichi had received. But that left him with huge shoes to fill, and no one had yet measured up. He was sick of hiring and firing and hiring and firing, all though he had to admit that his dismissal letters were getting better and better. He was an expert at firing now.
But what he really needed was a one good secretary. And unless the gay guy was getting a divorce, Taichi didn't think he'd ever find one again.
Oh, God, he massaged his temples tiredly. I need a drink….
The elevator stopped at the fourth floor, and he groaned. He was very tempted to keep the door closed and prevent anyone from getting on, since he really wanted to be alone, but a young woman entered the lift before he could try, completely ignoring him, and pressed the button to the lobby. She wore a dark, navy blue suit (complete with a rather high skirt) with pink trimming along the hem and cuffs. Her purse was a matching pink with a string of pearls as the strap. She had designer sunglasses on, and a wide-brimmed hat, pulled low over her face. Her hair was pulled up and tucked into her hat, though strands had fallen loose behind her neck and along her cheeks. Though he couldn't read her expression, he guessed by the way she tapped her blue high-heeled foot that she was irritated by something.
She was awfully short, he noticed at once. And completely unqualified for a professional job in an embassy, of all places. He frowned at her fashion statement, the boldness of her attire that was rather inappropriate for this environment. What the hell kind of standards is Daisuke hiring with now?
She still hadn't noticed him, staring straight ahead at the mahogany doors of the elevator, her full lips pursed with impatience. He let his gaze wander down. All right, so Daisuke's standards aren't that bad….
Curious, he cleared his throat.
She didn't react.
He coughed again.
She glanced at her pearl watch.
He faked a sneeze.
She stiffened, growing very still.
He performed an impressively-delivered cough/sneeze.
"What the hell is your damn problem?" she snapped, whirling around. Then she gasped, clapping a freshly manicured hand over her dainty mouth.
Taichi raised an eyebrow and smirked, enjoying the reaction. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he leaned lazily back on the wall of the elevator, one leg bent so that the bottom of his shoe was flat against the wall.
She didn't remove her hand. "Hello," she squeaked through her fingers.
The doors opened, revealing the lobby. He gestured with a hand. "After you."
Her cheeks were a dark red as she stepped gingerly out of the elevator, walking stiffly. He followed her for a while, fully aware that she was fully aware of his presence. When she came to a nervous halt in front of the information desk, he leaned in towards her ear, "I'll see around then?"
"I'm so sorry, Taichi," she stammered, face still flushed in embarrassment, turning around to look at him. "I didn't know it was you—,"
He frowned in amusement. "Calling me by my first name is a little bold, don't you think?"
She paled, "But we've met."
"Really? Refresh my memory."
"I—Taichi, we went to school together—,"
He shrugged. "I went to a lot of schools. You'll have to be more specific."
"Grade school. We went to the same grade school." Her voice was faint with disbelief.
"Sorry," he grinned, "but I'm afraid that four years of drinking in college made me forget everything before high school graduation. And even that's kind of shady, if you know what I mean."
She just stared in shock.
"Well, I'm going to go to lunch now, and you're going to get back to work and try and think of a better pick-up line next time we meet. The whole 'we went to school together' routine gets old way too quickly, you know. But you're welcome to try again. Just get in line," he winked and walked out.
Passing a newspaper stand, he browsed through the selections, half-amused by the headlines of the tabloids who'd been the first to discover his highly publicized relationship with the daughter of Japan's Minister of the Interior, a man whose connections were particularly valuable in an international embassy. Kirkio ended up being more than he bargained for, and when he tried to cut it off like he did with all the other girls, she flipped out on him. She'd broken down into tears, sobbing all over and wailing that didn't he love her and didn't he want her to be happy and didn't he care at all about his future in-laws—
That made him snap. In-laws? Who the hell said anything about marriage? And then of course, she started crying even harder, having been convinced he was planning on proposing to her, to which he replied that he had no intention whatsoever of doing something so ridiculously insane as getting married.
Then she declared that she was in love with him. And not just any love, no—she was madly, deeply, desperately, torturously in love with him and would never again love another man like this so help her God.
Whoa, double-take…say what How did that happen? And he had stuttered, "Oh. Er—thanks?"
That was when she screamed at him for deceiving her and stringing her along, and left him.
This had all happened that very morning, actually, in his own office, with Koushiro as the uncomfortable witness. When she slammed the door behind her, they both could still her screeching and crying for a good five minutes more. And that was when Koushiro started his lecture about his boss's lifestyle. Like he understood. Koushiro himself had been married for two years already. In fact, Taichi was dating Miyako when he introduced her to the redhead. The attraction was nauseatingly obvious, so he had no problem playing matchmaker. He'd never really been serious about Miyako, nor had she been too keen on him.
It was beginning to become a trend for him. Every time Taichi dated a girl, she usually ended up breaking up with him and going on to find the love of her life in some other guy. Not that Taichi complained about that. He was too used to it. Women were for his amusement, after all. He'd given up on wanting anything more.
So when Kiriko, who was the only woman he'd dated for so long a time (with a record-breaking six months), left, Taichi was actually relieved. She'd been such a headache. How could one woman be so difficult? And clingy? And…mushy?
He shuddered, thinking about it now. He was so glad to get out of that one before she dragged his unconscious body up the altar—and he wouldn't put it past Kiriko to try that.
At least now he had his single life back…. He was new to it, but it felt wonderful. And the chick in the blue navy suit was good enough to fool around with for now before he was ready to dive back into that world full throttle. He'd have to get her name when he went back, figure out where she worked and when she started.
Taichi grinned, pulling out his sunglasses from his pocket and putting them on as he happily strutted down the street.
I love my job.
He loved alcohol , too, especially after that night.
After his brunch, he went back to the office and looked up the girl's name: Tachikawa Mimi.
He spent the better part of the rest of the day brooding over how much of an idiot he'd acted towards her, why he hadn't recognized her (though in his defense, she had been covering up her features and they hadn't seen each other in nearly four years), and what she was even doing here, in Japan, and in his company. He found Koushiro in the afternoon and behind closed doors demanded if he knew Mimi was here.
"Oh, yes. She's moving back to Japan."
Taichi could only stare at him stupidly.
Then he grabbed his phone and shouted Motomiya Daisuke's name over the intercom. Within minutes, his young, obnoxious but silver-tongued deputy assistant wandered lazily into the office.
"You hollered, boss?" he drawled, leaning against the door.
"When did you hire Mimi and why didn't you tell me?"
He straightened. "Oh. That. I was wondering when you'd notice. Well, actually, she called me for a favor the other week, and I of course—being the gentleman that I am—obliged most willingly."
"She's a model," Taichi pointed out exasperatedly. "What the hell is she doing working in an embassy?"
"She was fired."
Koushiro choked, ducking his head behind his hands to hide his laughter. He didn't mean it intentionally, but as a close friend of the young woman's (especially since his wife was one of her best friends) this was incredibly unexpected for him. Not that he was really all that surprised. Mimi was beautiful, yes, but her personality—well….
Daisuke saw him and grinned, sharing his thoughts exactly.
"So she broke up with Michael and moved back here. She has no idea what to do, though, seeing as how her work experience doesn't involve much outside looking phenomenal when the camera flashes, so this was the least I could do."
"Well, why didn't she just come to me and ask for a job?" Taichi was a little bit offended. Here was one of his life-long childhood friends and she wouldn't even come to him when she was in trouble? God, he wasn't that big of a jerk, was he? He still had a caring side, somewhere….
"Apparently, she did."
He stared. "Huh?"
"Well, she needed a job and she knew you were hiring—since you're always firing—so she called you like a billion times at your home phone plus another billion times here at work. But none of them worked. Either you weren't picking up, or somehow someone started screening your calls or something."
That little bitch!
Taichi started laughing, collapsing into his comfy leather arm chair. Was that what was making her so edgy these past few days? She was jealous of an old school friend? Dear God, my life's a freaking soap opera!
Daisuke and Koushiro were staring at him oddly. He waved it off, still choking back laughter. "So then she went to you?" he asked Daisuke.
He nodded. "But now she's got a bucket load of problems just in her first week back home. She had all this trouble getting this job, her parents are mad at her or something, and she's drinking a hell of a lot more than she used to. Which, I don't know if you two are aware of this or not, is not a really good thing. A drunk Mimi is a dangerous Mimi. And then her apartment building flooded."
Koushiro, still grinning, now lost all amusement as he began to sympathize. He and Miyako had gone through one of those horrendous apartment building problems. It took them months to get resettled. "That's awful."
"Yeah. She's staying at a hotel now, I think."
"A hotel?" he looked surprised. "Why? She could stay with me and Miyako if she needs a place—,"
"Yeah, but she didn't want to disturb Miyako too much. You know, with the baby coming and everything."
"Oh." Koushiro was quiet. All right, so Mimi could still be sensitive when she wanted to be.
"I would've offered her my flat, but I don't think Iori and Ken would appreciate that." They were his roommates. Good, moral men who drove Daisuke nuts whenever he tried to bring a woman home. Poor chap. Taichi knew how that was. He used to room with his old friend Kido Jyou during the year right after college. That had been hell.
Then he got an idea.
"She can stay with me."
"I mean, Kiriko's gone. I broke up with her this morning. My apartment's empty now."
"I can be compassionate, too. I can help a friend in need."
Daisuke snorted in disbelief.
"Hey! Don't forget who I am!"
"That's exactly why I am laughing at this idea, because I know who you are. Seriously, Taichi. Think about what you're doing."
"Look, if she needs a place to stay, she might as well use my apartment. It's pointless for her to waste money on a hotel. Especially with the salary I'm paying her…." He frowned lightly. "Maybe I'll throw in a raise."
Koushiro shook his head. "Yes, and the rest of the employees will raise hell when they find out you've been playing favorites."
Daisuke shrugged. "Hell, I agree. It really would be easier on her. It makes sense, doesn't it?"
"Yes," Koushiro agreed reluctantly. "Though she's the last person to accept a charity case."
"And in that respect, you two are perfect for each other," Daisuke crooned at Taichi.
"Which brings to light another issue," the redhead immediately jumped in with wide eyes. "Taichi, tell me honestly. Could you control yourself living with a woman like her?"
He shot him a dirty look. "She's a friend. I don't do that kind of thing with friends."
"You better hope you don't. She's devastated about Michael." Daisuke nodded and folded his arms over his chest. "Never seen her that upset."
"Okay, I won't mention the 'M' word," Taichi promised. "It'll be like old times. The old gang, hanging out—sort of…."
"I say it's a done deal," Daisuke announced.
"I suppose it would be more courteous to make these life-altering decisions with her instead of for her, don't you think?"
"Koushiro has a point. Do you want me to send her up here so you can talk?"
"Nah, I'll call her," Taichi shook his head, recalling their last encounter in the elevator. He tried not to wince too openly. He wanted to apologize for that first, and that would have to be in a nice, formal setting. Classy, considering that was how she was, or else she wouldn't take him seriously.
Besides, he needed time to figure this out. He was still shocked that she was even back. But now that she was, well maybe he'd have an extra friend around. That was always nice, remembering the good ol' days.
So he asked her to dinner, sending a written apology note down to her small cubicle several stories below his feet.
She replied almost instantly: Jackass.
He responded: Pick you up at eight?
She agreed: Buy me flowers, too.
Ah, Mimi, Mimi. How he missed someone who could talk back without fear. Welcome home, he grinned to himself.
She wore black.
He started to ask why, when suddenly he remembered Michael. Yes, the infamous break-up, much like his own with Kiriko. Mimi always was over-dramatic.
So she dressed up like she was going to a funeral, and he tried his best not to laugh when he pulled up in his cab at her hotel and found her waiting impatiently for him. She completely ignored his verbal apology, squealed over the flowers, and then complained she was hungry. So off they went.
There was something different about her this time. He could tell. It was in the way she moved and walked and talked. He couldn't figure out what it was. But it bothered him for some reason. She had this anxious underline to everything she did, like she was worried, upset, or both. Or even worse, angry. He knew she'd gone through a lot in just the past few months, but really…this was just so unlike her. The Mimi he knew was carefree and happy. This one looked like she was faking the whole thing. Even her laughter sounded unreal.
But he decided not to say anything, hoping that she would still accept his offer.
Only he never got around to it.
He kept getting distracted.
It was most unnerving.
"How's Hikari?" she asked during the appetizers. The restaurant he'd chosen was old and fairly empty that evening, being a workday, but it was quaint and quiet and perfect for a reunion between friends.
"Good. She and Willis moved to Kyoto two years ago when American's military relocated him."
"And she had another baby, right?"
"Right. A boy."
"Oooh, how cute," she smiled, her eyes twinkling. The candlelight from the table was reflecting her golden orbs, and he was entranced. Of course, it could just be the wine. "What's his name?"
He blinked, caught off guard. "Uh…."
Damn, what was the kid's name?
"Taichi…" she began warningly, frowning.
"Hey, I'm busy—,"
"Too busy to pay attention to your own family? If I remember correctly, you were even late to Hikari's wedding."
"You weren't even there," he shot back.
"I was doing a photo shoot off the coast of South Africa. I was stuck in the middle of no where. But you were working three streets away from the church and yet you still barely made it to witness the exchange of the vows."
"How do you know all these things?"
"Ah." That woman was remarkable at getting news around the old gang, even though the group had been separated for nearly ten years now, living on a total of four different continents.
"I saw Yamato in New York in February," she announced over the main course. The restaurant was empty now, with just the two of them. It was getting late, since the chef had messed up their order and they were stuck waiting the longest. But it was okay. It was nice to sit and reminisce.
"He was talking about coming back to Japan to visit everyone, with the kids this time."
"And not Sora?" he asked casually.
Her voice dropped low and her eyes were wide with sadness. "I think they're getting a divorce, Taichi."
She glared at him. "Is that all you've got?"
"What do you want me to say?"
They were quiet through dessert.
"I broke up with Michael," she said calmly once she had finished her éclair.
Crap. What was he supposed to say now? Well, it wasn't his fault, she'd brought it up. So he gulped down his wine and asked for another bottle.
She sighed. "Don't be. I should have seen it coming."
"I just went through a break up this morning, too," he offered as consolation.
She smiled as though she understood his reasoning, however awful he was at getting the point across. He never had been the type to be sympathetic in a sensitive way, or even sensitive at all for that matter. In fact, Mimi didn't think she had even seen Taichi act serious. Well, except during their old reunions. But he'd stopped coming to those years ago. I'm busy was always the excuse. She frowned at him now, slouching lazily in the chair opposite of her, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the detached, strange aura around him. Where was the happy Taichi?
"How are your parents?" she asked randomly.
"Er—fine?" he looked at her, confused.
She rolled her eyes. He was so out of touch. But then again, she winced, so was she….
They'd finished the meal, and were now drinking from a vintage wine bottle. It was an excellent year. The restaurant was closed and people were cleaning up.
She asked, "Is your dad feeling better?"
And then he remembered, realizing where she was trying to go with this. "Oh, yeah. Doctor said a strong diet and exercise plan will help him recover and prevent another attack. He's still suffering from my mother's cooking, though. And her nagging. She thinks he doesn't exercises enough. She's calling all the doctors around the city trying to gather enough statistics to scare him into buying a treadmill this Christmas. And she's been hounding after me, too, actually. She was raving about 'the privileges and responsibilities of the firstborn' or something last I called her."
Mimi took a long sip from her glass and smiled grimly. "Huh. Well, my mother's back home telling everyone exactly what she thinks of me just because I won't settle down with one man and especially because I won't marry the lawyer from her country club."
"Don't like lawyers?"
She smirked. "I don't care what men do, but I need chemistry, you know? And Mummy…she just doesn't understand why I can't get over Michael. She says he was a waste of my time anyway…. Maybe she was right. He did leave me. I don't know, maybe I expect too much from people…."
She sighed sadly, and emptied her glass. She really ought to stop. She had a habit of drinking herself into a stupor lately, but it was the only thing she could find nowadays to ease the misery that was becoming her life. And it was only when she was drinking that she could really talk.
Talking had always been so easy in front of Taichi, though. He understood, even if she wasn't entirely convinced he was paying attention. But she didn't care. She went on, just happy to have someone to rant to besides the mean voices in her head, feeling sorry for herself and having a pity-party with an attractive old friend.
If she had been sober, she would have seen the dangerous implications of such a combination. Thankfully, she was already gone by then.
She explained now, "So since then, I've been dating a lot to get over him, but I always end up finding something wrong in the next guy, and it drives my mother crazy. She claims she doesn't know what to do with me."
"You know, I think Princess Mimi actually likes being rebellious," he grinned over the top of his glass.
She rolled her eyes.
"Well, anyway, I haven't spoken to my parents since. That's why I came here. To get away from it all."
"So how's it going?"
She grinned widely at him, took a long gulp of her wine, and felt the disguise just fall from her face. She dropped her head on the table and groaned. "Miserable. I'm miserable." See, this was why alcohol wasn't good for her. She always ended up crying and remembering how horrible her life was becoming, even though they say this was supposed to make you feel better. Feel better, my foot. "I feel awful!"
He was laughing. "That bad?"
"I hate being on my own."
"Funny. I can't stand being around people."
"I hate being unemployed."
"Hey, you're working for me, remember?"
"No offense, Taichi, but filing isn't exactly what I would call employment."
He only smiled and finished off his serving before helping himself to another. He really should stop. He was going to get way too intoxicated way too soon. Still…it had been such a long day. He deserved this, right? After all, he was one of the hardest-working bachelors in the city, sitting down to dinner with one of the most beautiful bachelorettes in the city. He'd have to be insane not to add alcohol to that mix.
But he'd never known she was such so susceptible to wine. It hadn't even been two bottles and two hours later yet, and she was completely gone. Wow.
"But you know, Taichi—," she was hiccupping now, smiling toothily at him, "—I'm not really that sad anymore."
"Nah…. Because this, this is fun!" She motioned wildly at the city. "I really missed this, you know?" With a loud sigh, she stood up suddenly and swayed. He instantly put out his hand to steady her and she playfully hit his arm. "Silly, I'm a big girl! I think you can trust me to stand on my own feet," she laughed, throwing back her head.
The busboy glanced at them now, eyeing the drunken woman with a funny look on his face. He disappeared into the kitchen and a few minutes later was replaced by the owner of the restaurant. The balding man glowered unhappily at the remaining customers.
"We've been closed for the last hour," he snapped.
"Right, sorry, we were just leaving," Taichi quickly got to his feet, tossing a few bills on the table.
Mimi frowned at the tip. "Oh, Taichi, that's so little. Here, young man, take this for your fine, fine, fine service." She staggered towards the owner and shoved her purse in his hands. "Loooved the wine. Your boss has excellent taste." She smiled, leaning heavily against his arm. "Absolutely exquisite meal, too. I adooore your chef. I adooore you, too…Mr. …?"
"Come on, Mimi," Taichi interrupted hastily, pulling on her arm.
"Oh, but wasn't it lovely? It was, Taichi. This is absolutely fabulous restaurant. I think I should buy it."
"Okay, that's enough." He steered her towards the doors, remembered something, and left her hanging onto the sill in a daze while he ran back and snatched her purse from the owner's hands, throwing him a "don't-even-think-about-it" look. He looked back at Mimi, saw that she was sagging against the doors with her mouth wide open, and raced back to her side. "Come on, I'm taking you home."
"Home? Where the hell is that? Where?" She screeched hysterically, latching onto his arm as he dragged her outside. The lights from the cars and the streetlamps blinded him for a second, and he winced, sensing a headache. He was horrible at bright lights when he'd been drinking….
Now to get a taxi.
Mimi already had this covered.
"Taxi! Hey, taxi! Over here!" She yanked on Taichi's arm, wandering close to the edge of the sidewalk towards a lone taxicab on the other side of the street.
A car honked loudly and she cried out, clasping her hands over her ears. It sped by, the driver yelling something obscene in anger.
"Say it to my face, you jerk!" she hollered. "I'm trying to walk here!"
Taichi pulled her back. "Mimi, let it go." He waved at the taxi across the street and the car started.
She shuddered and collapsed against him. "I think I'm going to puke."
"Wait until we get out of the cab, will you?"
She burst into giggles as he helped her into the backseat. He ducked in after her, giving the driver directions to the hotel. The car pulled into the main highway, then suddenly swerved to the left as it switched lanes, throwing Mimi on top of him. He grabbed her by the arms instinctively, struggling back up and reaching for a seatbelt, when she wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled into his chest, her hair brushing his face. God, it smelled good. And she felt good too. Her skin was smooth and soft, like silk under his hands— No! Stop! That's the alcohol talking, not you!
She snuggled on top of him as he lay awkwardly against the door, one leg up on the seat and the other braced against the opposite door. He tried to prop them up with one arm, but his hand slipped against the leather seat edge and he fell down even further, until they were lying completely horizontal. She snaked herself between his legs, one foot swinging up and down as she smiled up at him wickedly.
"You're like a giant pillow!" she giggled. "I looooove pillows. And I looooove you, Taichi. You're such a good friend, you know? So strong and brave and funny and sweet—,"
She accidentally kneed him in the crotch, and he winced. "Mimi—," he gasped, but she mistook his expression.
"And your eyes—God, they're gorgeous. Like chocolate. I looooove chocolate…."
Before he could stop her, she was kissing him.
He could taste the alcohol on her breath, and he knew she was only doing this because they were both drunk, but since he was the more capable one when it came to holding his own alcohol, he knew it was his responsibility to stop this ridiculously stupid and incredibly reckless event from going beyond their control.
Being the caring, concerned friend that he was, he at least thought of stopping.
And being male, he kissed her back.
Somewhere in the middle of all this, he managed to pry his wallet from his pocket, flipping it open with one hand to find his driver's license. He threw it at the amused driver, who quickly turned the car around to follow the new directions.
Trying not to lose himself to the wonderful effects of drinking just yet, he couldn't resist teasing her, pulling her over him so he could run his mouth down the side of her neck. She fingered his jacket, pulling it off him and then starting on the buttons of his shirt. She managed to pull apart the first couple, licking his neck and playing an absolutely delightful game with his own tongue, when he (against his will) pushed her back to conserve the passion, and she gave a small cry of protest.
"Mimi, not in the car—,"
She pressed her mouth over his, interrupting his reasoning, pulling off his belt and tossing it aside (almost knocking out the now annoyed driver) before going to work on unzipping him. He groaned, desperate to continue but knowing this was not the place for such a purpose, and shoved her back, struggling to sit up himself. That was when the car stopped, and he tried to pay the driver while at the same time not return the kisses Mimi was placing all over him.
Ignoring the driver's words of gratitude, he turned and met Mimi's kiss full on the mouth, wrapping an arm around her and opening the door behind him with the other arm. They stumbled out and somehow managed to make it through the empty lobby and to the elevator. She paused then, breathing hard, to squint around the lobby.
"Where—?" she began, but he took her back in his arms and kissed her again, making her forget.
She sighed dreamily into his mouth, melting into him. An elevator opened then, and he staggered into it with her grasping him tightly, her legs around his waist and hands tunneling into his hair, covering every inch of his face with kisses. He couldn't see a thing nor did he care, so he relied strictly on memory to get around, punching a button with his fist and staggering out of the elevator and down the corridor when they arrived on the floor. Reaching into his pocket, he groped for the key, found it, and miraculously managed to open the door and get inside. She still hadn't gotten off him, nor did she seem to have any intention of getting down, so he aimlessly wandered towards the bedroom, tripped over the rug, and ended up on top of her on the floor by the bed.
Not that this bothered either of them.
"We really—shouldn't—do this—," he whispered into her ear as his hands worked on the zipper behind her back while she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off him. She wiggled out of the dress, throwing it over her shoulders, revealing her strapless black lace bra. He immediately went for it, saying again, "We really shouldn't—,"
"Shut up," she murmured. He found the clasp at the front of her breasts, unhooking it gently. "You know you want to."
"That—doesn't mean—we should," he reminded, touching his mouth to the rise of her left breast.
She squirmed, "I don't care."
"You ought to," he said, running his hands down her waist and to the sides of her panties. He paused there, uncertain. "You ought to tell me to stop."
"Well, I'm not going to," she breathed, sucking in her breath as he slipped his fingers inside her underwear. She whimpered when he hesitated again, placing her hands on the sides of his pants. "So get this damn thing off."
He grinned, kissing and lifting her up to meet her on the bed.