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immabewriting · 7 years

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Five Teachers Walk Into A Bar... -Chapter 7

A/N: Boy oh boy! It’s been a month since my last update! I’m sorry but I do have school and I also got hired as a part time research assistant for a friends husband so that’s been exciting. I can’t tell you when the next update will come but I’m working on it as we speak and this update took up seven pages so it’s a pretty nice update all about Sana and Chris. The next chapters I’m planning on adding some backstories and plot for everyone so that should be exciting. Anyway as always read and review, leave a like, tell me what you think! OH! and before I forget some words that are mention that if you don’t speak Hindi or Urdu you won’t understand:

Bewakoof= idiot or dumbass.

Anyway on with the show!!!

"No! No! How did you get a date?!" Cavill asks confused. They had just gotten back when Hemsworth announced that Pine had somehow swooned Sana into taking her on a date. All the boys were, well, to say the least, outraged at how only Pine could do that.

"I was apologizing to her and I told her I'd make it up to her in any way possible and she asked me to get her ice cream!" He explains.

"Guys be happy she didn't slap a restraining order on him." Evans says. They all murmur their disbelief but kept quiet after that.

Against her better judgment Sana told Mahira who it was. The three little dots stared at her for what felt like 30 minutes; in reality it was only two.

<He's friends with India’s dad! -ST>

The three dots stares at her again for a minute till Mahira sent her a text saying, "Fine. Just don't be too loud when you come home, I have an early day tomorrow." Sana smiled and went back to teaching class. She had a date!

Chris walked into the studio and looked around she had told him to wait ten minutes after class to pick her up because she needed time to get ready. So, Hemsworth and Pine left in separate cars and Pine silently freaked out the entire time.

Okay, relax get it together man! So what if she’s a little younger than you? So what if you haven’t gone on a date in a year? You’ll be fine! Just don’t bring up your ex and you’ll be fine! He told himself. But as soon as he walked into the somewhat empty studio and saw Sana all that went out the window. Her hair was tied up in an elegant ponytail; the t-shirt dress and converse making her look cute yet casual (as she intended). She looks over and smiles at him. He waves as she walks over.

“You ready?” she asks.

“Y-Yea, you look great.” He compliments.

“Thanks I think so too!” she says with a twirl. He smiles and they start walking.

“I’m really sorry about the other night by the way. I shouldn’t have done that.” He apologizes.

“You’re forgiven. Just don’t stalk me or other people in the future.” She tells him.

“Scouts honor.” He says raising his hand. She laughs and he opens her door to the car.

Aw, what a gentleman. It’s going to suck if he tries to kill me. She thought as she got in. He gets in and starts driving to cone castle.

“So, you’re doing Midsummer Nights Dream right?” she asks.

“Yea, its in a few weeks, I oversee all the theatre productions that go on at Harden University.” He tells her.

“Wow, nice.”

“Yea it is, it can be stressful at times but I like it. What about you?” he asks her.

“Um well, I’m a dance teacher, and I am a grad student at UCLA for dance. I really want to be a choreographer, I love ice cream and pizza and kale, and I hate pants.” She tells him.

“You hate… pants?”

“With a passion. I only wear leggings, tights or skirts. And sometimes shorts.”

“Huh, well good to know. So, if you go to UCLA why were you at Harden practicing that late?”

“Oh, my roommate was working late at the research institute so, I decided to use the free dance rooms to practice so we could go home together.”

“What is she doing research on?”

“Well, they found some artifacts of Pakistani descent I guess you could say and she’s helping the head of the institute date them and stuff. His name is Dr. Cho I think?”

“Oh yea I know him, he’s really cool.”

“Yea she seems to like him. Ooh Cone Castle!” She squeals as they park. He smiles and looks at her.

“You really like ice cream.”

“I denied myself ice cream for a long time. I get excited over it.” She says getting out. He follows behind as she runs in. Her ponytail bouncing as she ran. Was this really the same girl who threw a water bottle at her?

She looked over all the flavors carefully, so many to choose from! There was raspberry, cookies and cream, rocky road, SALTED CARAMEL!

“There are so many flavors, I can’t pick one.” She whispers.

“So try them all.” He says. She looks at him, “I dare you.”

She smirks and looks at the guy working behind the counter. He felt so sorry for the guy for what she was about to do.

“Excuse me can I try every flavor of ice cram you have?” she asks. The guy behind the counter looks at her; Chris looks at her. She shrugs, “I’m waiting.” The guy nods and starts giving her samples of all the ice creams. Chris looks at her and then the guy behind the counter. Oh this guy was going to hate him.

“Can I get a sample of every flavor too?” he asks. Sana looks at him and smiles, “Better catch up.” “Oh I intend to.” he quips.

After 16 flavors, deliberations and some glares from the staff, Sana settled on cookie butter and Chris settled on fudge brownie. He paid the $10.25 and tipped the guy 5 dollars for dealing with them.

“Wait!” she shouts pulling out her phone. “We have to take a picture in front of the cone castle!” she walks over to the castle made out of ice cream cones that sat in a glass case in the middle of the store. “Aren’t you going to get in the picture?” she asks him.

“You want me in it?” he asks confused.

“Um duh, you’re my date.” She tells him.

“Oh so this is a date?” he asks cheekily coming closer. She narrows his eyes and scrunches her nose.

“You brought me ice cream and I got dressed up. If I didn’t like you I’d wear sweatpants.”

“I think you’d look cute in sweatpants.”

“I look cute in everything.”

“I’m sure you do, but I thought you hate pants.”

“I wear things I like around people I like.” By now they were practically an inch apart. The space between them practically begging them to kiss… And everyone else in the ice cream shop.

“Our ice cream is melting.” He tells her.

“We should take the picture.” She says. He nods and they pose for the picture and smile. They leave soon after for a walk around the plaza hand in hand…

“Okay okay, um…” she thought as they walked. “Oh! Would you rather have earthworms for eyebrows or every time you yawned you threw up a cat?” she asked. They had been playing would you rather while walking around the strip mall. Chris made a confused, disgusted face.

“Oh god, that was worse than the last one!” He says with a laugh, “Um, I guess earthworms for eyebrows? It would be an interesting conversation piece.” He decides.

“Good way of thinking about it.” She agrees.

“Okay, lets play a different game.” He suggests. She smirks, “Let me guess 20 questions?”

“Or some variation of that. I just, wanna learn more about you.” He explains. She looks at him and smiles a little.

“Shoot,” she replies.

“Favorite color?”

“Red, you?”

“Blue. Favorite food?”

“Ice cream, duh! You?”

“Too many to choose from. Favorite movie?”

“An Indian movie called “Main Hoon Na’ and you?”

“Anything from the 90’s.”

“That doesn’t count!” she protests.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“You need a specific movie!”

“Agh fine! Um, ‘Oceans 11’ oh shit that’s not from the 90’s.”

“Who cares, it’s a good movie. Oh! If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure, honestly probably California.” He decides, “I like being close to the beach and I like in n out. And its familiar.”

“Well I would go to Paris. It’s so beautiful there, and the food is wonderful and to dance in a city like that? Ugh, dream come true.”

He smiles, “Sounds nice.”

“Doesn’t it?” she quips. “Whens your birthday?” she asks.

“August 26th. Yours?”

“March 16th!” she tells him. He stops and looks at her.

“What did you say?” he asks, hoping he heard her wrong.

She looks at him, “My birthday is on March 16th.” Nope. He didn’t hear her wrong. This was a coincidence right?

“Huh,”

“What?”

“Um, nothing just… um, I um know someone else with that birthday.” He quickly spews.

“Oh cool! I like that person already.” She says with a smile. He smiles as best he can and quickly changes the subject.

“So, choreographer huh? Do you not like getting paid?” he quips.

“Haha very funny. You know what they say about teachers?” she says.

“What do they say?”

“Those who can’t do, teach.” She retorts.

“Ooh that’s good. But I’m not a teacher I’m a professor.” He says.

“Oh forgive me I should’ve known,” She apologizes.

“It’s okay, it’s a common mistake.” He tells her. “Certainly won’t stop me from asking you out on a second date.” He teases.

She smiles, “You’re very sure about that.”

“Should I not be?”

“Oh no, you should be. Because next Friday you’re taking me dancing.” She lets him know. He laughs, “I can’t wait.”

He stopped in front of her apartment building and turned off the car. They both look at each other. “Should I walk you up?” he asks her.

“I’d like that,” she says with a smile. He smiles back and they get out, walking up to the apartment. Their fingertips brushing against each others until finally Chris took her hand in his and laced their fingers together.

“Keep that up you just might get yourself a kiss when we get to my door.” She teases.

“You think so?” he asks.

“Oh I know so,” she says. They smile at each other and climb up the stairs to her apartment standing in front of the door. The tension of ending their date perfectly hanging in the air. “I had a good time.” He says.

“Me too! We should do this again.” She suggests.

“Maybe dancing? I would love to see you dancing with out it being creepy.” He tells her. She giggles and comes closer to him, “I would like that.”

“I have to warn you I’m not the best dancer. That would be my friend Tom.”

“Well I should go on a date with him.”

He pulls her flush against him, their faces an inch apart. She squeaks and her hands brace against his shoulders, his very nice toned shoulders. He smiles and tilts her chin up with one hand, the other wrapped around her waist. He whispers in her ear, “He can’t give you what I can give you.”

“And whats that?” she asks quietly, she gasps as his hand slowly trail their way up her back. “Oh I can’t tell you all my tricks now can I?” he whispers, his lips trail down her neck and she shivers.

“Y-You are cruel.” She whimpers. He chuckles low and deep. And her hand tighten on his shoulders. “I guess I’m going to have to take you on another date.”

“If you. Do not kiss me right n—“ his lips crush hers before she has a chance to finish the sentence and her arms wrap around his neck pulling him closer. His hands rest on her hips to explore more of her body. She moans softly and he slips his tongue in her mouth brushing it against hers. His climbing up her back, her arms. She moves her hands down his chest, tracing the lines of his abs (very nice in her opinion) and he groans low before pulling away slowly. Their eyes meet as they catch their breath. Her pupils were blown wide with desire and wanting and if it wasn’t Sunday night and she didn’t have an early morning class tomorrow she would have told him to stay.

“So, I’ll see you next Saturday?” he asks. She nods quickly. He smiles, “Goodnight Sana.”

“Goodnight Chris,” she says. She watches him walk down the steps of her building and leave before running inside and telling Mahira all about her date.

Tag List: @notsomolly, @linzinator, @boxfullofcats, @blown-transistor, @seattlite09, @shhiminmybluecastle, @emarich7, @othersideofforty, @laughing-baubo, @nerdmom42, @lilydale-chicken, @theshortbuthappyone, @survivingstudentlife, @pretty-sexy-silly-mismash, @toc1985, @lokilockedcougar, @reblogiwill, @msblofled, @ladyvic3, @barnes21cz, @big-bad-wolf

A/N if I left you out or your name wasn’t tagged please send me an ask and I’ll fix it!

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terresdebrumestories · 7 years

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Power Ranger

✗ TECHNICAL DETAILS

FANDOM: Digimon Adventure 01/02/Tri RATING: General Audiences. WORDCOUNT: 1 964 words PAIRING(S): Pre-Taito/Yamachi. CHARACTER(S): Taichi Kamiya, Yamato Ishida, Genai, and a special appearance from Miyako. Mimi is mentioned in passing. GENRE: Coffeeshop disaster. TRIGGER WARNING(S): None, but Taichi may make you feel some second hand embarassment. SUMMARY: So there’s this guy. He has a Power Rangers shirt, and he’s cute. He’s also a walking catastrophe, but in a cute way.

“I hope your boss doesn’t know you call his clients shitheads,” the guy with a Power Rangers shirt chuckles as the miffed ass stomps out of the door, “you could get in trouble.”

He’s cute, Yamato will give him that, as well as a bonus point for the pun on his shirt, but that doesn’t mean he’s about to take that kind of criticism lying down. Not with the mood he’s in.

“First of all,” he says while he gathers the coffee cups on a nearby table, mostly so he won’t start punching people, “I called him a fucking shithead, which he should take as compliment because it assumes he does get laid. Second, barista doesn’t have ‘act as a punching bag for assholes and bigots’ on the job requirement.’

He wipes at a stain with more force than necessary for several seconds, breathing through his nose until he’s reasonably sure he’s not going to shout his next sentence:

“Third, this is my shop. I get to throw homophobes out if I want to.”

Power Ranger blinks at that, grows very red, and bursts into laughter, loud and uninhibited to the point of borderline obnoxiousness. It’s a hearty sound, though, and the way he throws his head back to get it all out sends heat blooming at the back of Yamato’s neck, so he doesn’t really try to hush the guy.

Yamato does have to keep working, though. His regulars are used to the occasional odd person coming into the shop, but he holds no illusion as to his personality’s power to keep people coming if he stops doing a good job at hosting them.

He’s walking back to the counter with a tray full of dirty dishes when Power Ranger follows him, having apparently forgotten where he is, just to hiss:

“Sorry, I just—fucking shithead. It’s hilarious!”

It’s...really not? At least, Yamato doesn’t think the joke is that good. And it certainly doesn’t compensate for having to deal with an asshole like that, but hey. At least Power Ranger isn’t telling him to be more patient or accept that some people want him dead and that’s just how life is, so there’s that.

He still shoots a look at Mr. Genai over the counter, rolling his eyes and smirking a little when Mr. Genai gives him a ‘people are strange’ kind of shrug. It used to be Mr. Genai would rebuke Yamato’s outbursts at clients, sometimes even though he thought Yamato was in the right.

Nowadays, he’s either changed his stance on how to deal with terminal assholes, or come to the conclusion that Yamato is a good enough owner to keep the shop afloat without having to kiss everyone’s boots. Either way, it’s a show of support that means a lot, considering Mr. Genai is the last vaguely parental figure in Yamato’s life.

He nods at Power Rangers in acknowledgement, and maybe in thanks, too. Just a little. He’s not that starved for positive attention that he’ll admit it out loud but, well. It is a nice change to meet someone who appreciate his sense of, uh. Humor.

Power Ranger doesn’t seem to realize the exchange is over, though: he follows Yamato to the back of the shop, and barely stops in time to avoid a collision with the half-door marked ‘employees only’. Yamato is emptying his tray into the dishwasher, which is finally full enough to run, when Power Ranger calls out over the wood:

“What kind of college-age guy has his own coffee shop though? I mean you’re, what, twenty-five? Ish? I’m not good at white people ages but—”

The tray rattles when Yamato sets it down on the counter top.

“I’m Japanese.”

Technically, he’s a quarter French, but it’s not even like it shows that much outside of the eyes and hair, damn it!

“Oh, cool!” Power Ranger exclaims, the grin audible in his voice. “Do you speak Japanese?”

“Yes.”

Yamato was born in Japan, even. Spent the first eleven years of his life there until his mother’s job as a journalist moved the family to San Francisco. He may have spent more time outside of Tokyo than in, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgotten it, and having to prove he’s Japanese enough to people like Power Rangers who wear their origins on their faces got tiring something like five minutes into the first iteration of that particular conversation.

“That’s nice,” Power Ranger continues, still in Japanese, “because you look really cute and it’s easier to flirt without an audience.”

“Mr. Genai speaks Japanese as well.”

Yamato turns around to get back in the main room just as Power Ranger throws a barely-embarrassed grin toward Mr. Genai, and he almost chuckles at the sight. The guy, if nothing else, doesn’t seem to have a shy bone in his body.

“With all due respect to Mr. Genai, if he’s your employee he can’t tell you off for being seduced on the job.”

“Who says any of what you’re doing is working, here?”

Yamato does not shiver when he brushes past Power Ranger on his way back to the counter—no, really, he doesn’t. He does feel some heat creeping up his neck and into his ears, though.

“No one, but being optimistic doesn’t hurt,” Power Ranger retorts with an even wider grin that does things to Yamato’s insides.

It’s a little embarrassing, but then again, the guy is good looking, cute, somewhat funny in an accidental way, and he’s also not even trying to be subtle about his intentions. There’s no harm in indulging in the charm while it lasts, right?

“Maybe you’ve got it wrong and I’m not queer. I could be keeping homophobes out of my shop for the sake of a friend or family member. Or just as a decent human being.”

“As one of my best friends would say,” Power Ranger quotes with a finger in the air while Yamato wipes down the counters and sets on cleaning the coffee machine, “'the quest for true love was always dependent on taking risks'. Who knows, maybe I’ll get lucky and you’ll catch the gay bug after a while.”

“’Sur un malentendu ça peut marcher’,” Yamato mutters, and Power Ranger’s eyes widen into a look of pleased surprise so intense he all but leans across the pick up station to ask:

“Was that French I heard?”

“Get off my counter, you’ll get me in trouble with the hygiene division. Yes, it was.”

“So, wait, you’re the college-aged owner of a fairly popular shop, a blond Japanese guy and you speak French? The thick plottens! You must explain!”

“Sorry,” Yamato replies, unashamedly quoting Tumblr, “you have to be at least a level three friend before you can unlock my tragic backstory.”

“What if I take you out on a date though? Do I have to be a level three date mate to unlock your backstory or does that come with its own set of rules?”

At the orders station, Mr. Genai tries and fails to cover a laugh under the scrap of his chair on tiled floor, which gives Yamato just enough time to smooth a stupid grin off his face before Power Ranger looks back to him.

“I think Mr. Genai likes me.”

“I think Mr. Genai thinks you’re ridiculous.”

“I think Mr. Genai can do both of these things at the same time,” Mr. Genai says from the counter.

The wind catchers on the door chime at that moment, as if to punctuate the exchange, and Yamato starts on a tall soy latte as soon as he hears Mr. Genai greet Miyako. She’s one of Takeru’s school friends, and she mostly comes to the neighborhood to visit Mimi’s pastry shop, across the street, but considering she swings by for an order almost every time, Yamato isn’t about to complain.

“I’m still at work,” he tells Power Rangers without bothering to put any heat in it, “you need to order something or let me do my job.”

“Do I get your number if I order something?”

Yamato turns around to the sound of Miyako choking on her own laughter, face hidden behind her hands as she stands next to Power Ranger and makes a valiant attempt at pretending she’s not laughing at the both of them. Yamato just sighs and hands her her usual drink, with a reminder for the dinner at his place the next weekend.

“I know you remember but Takeru would kill me if I didn’t make really really sure.”

“No worries. See you Saturday!”

“Please,” Power Ranger all but whines, “tell me Takeru isn’t your boyfriend.”

“He’s my little brother.”

“Oh! Little brother is fine—I’ve got a little sister, if they’re the same age—”

“Will you please go order something?”

Power Ranger dissolves in apologies, words coming out of his mouth at almost superhuman speed for the next ten seconds, before he goes to the counter and asks Mr. Genai for whichever dairy-free cold drink he likes best.

Yamato makes extra sure no one can see him grin like a loon, grateful that he decided to grow his hair out again this year. There’s nothing to be done about his ears, but at least that way Power Ranger can’t see him flush redder than a tomato.

Or, you know, write his number on the paper cup he pours the drink in.

“Thanks,” Power Rangers says with a wide, wide smile when he retrieves his drink.

Then he walks out of the shop like he hasn’t just spent the past half-hour flirting at Yamato like his life depended on it.

“Not to be intrusive,” Mr. Genai remarks in soft Japanese, “but it seemed to me like a rather speedy departure.”

“Yeah,” Yamato agrees, more disappointed than he cares to admit, “that was fast.”

He’s barely finished his sentence when Power Ranger pops back into view, slams the door to the shop open hard enough to make several customers jump in place—Mrs. Izumi even spills her tea—and runs up to the counter, red faced and out of breath:

“I’m so sorry,” he heaves in English, “I’m so stupid, I completely forgot to ask for your number!”

“It’s on the cup,” Yamato replies, too puzzled to to anything more than point at the item in question.

Power Ranger nods, turns around to leave again and, halfway through the shop, swirls back around to say:

“Almost forgot: my name’s Taichi. I’ll talk to you soon!”

This time he opens and closes the door like a normal human being, which is a relief. Yamato might find Taichi’s flustered attitude adorable—flattering, even—but that doesn’t mean it’s very good for his business.

He watches Taichi pause outside the door for a wide fist pump, then realize everyone inside the shop can see him and walk off with his face in his hands...straight into a streetlight.

Yamato may or may not choke in laughter at the sight, and he may or may not still be laughing about it when his phone buzzes.

‘So,’ Taichi’s text reads, ‘I will totally understand if you ask me to delete your number after this truly stunning display of human disastrousness.’

‘Honestly,’ Yamato replies, opting for Japanese just to see if Taichi can read it, ‘I get the feeling this kind of thing is why I will agree to go on a second date.’

It takes a while, but Taichi does reply with a long, long string of relieved, then happy, then dancing emojis.

(He pretends to be offended when Yamato shows the text exchange off on their wedding night four years later, but the way he keeps bragging about seducing Yamato through unabashed weirdness kind of gives the charade away.)

#digiotpweek #Yamato Ishida #taichi kamiya #Yamachi #Digimon #Digimon fic #Fanfiction #If you don't think Taichi 'once vomited in Sora's hat' Kamiya could do this #then we definitely don't see the same character #either that or the French dub fucked up which wouldn't even surprise me #ANYWAYS enjoy the fic #15n #20n #30n

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