haki/izana modern!AU first time izana realized/noticed he has real /feelings/ for haki
Izana does not expect the sticking point to be an overnight bag.
He’s in town for a series of meetings that stretch over the weekend; it’s an inconvenience to spend so much time away from the office, but it is an opportunity to invest more attention to this arrangement with Bergstrom’s daughter.
They eat lunch her favorite spot: a small yet upscale taqueria with a terrace that would be delightfully private if it weren’t for the two dozen or so paparazzo hiding in the bushes. He would normally have security take care of them – no one needs to know whether he prefers pork or beef carnitas – but as Haki is quick to point out, being seen is the point.
“Do you think Medina will take your deal?”
He knows he must be staring; not how Zen stares, all slack-jawed and obvious, but the way Haki’s mouth curves around her straw tells him she’s noted his surprise. “You have a meeting with him on Monday, don’t you?”
“Yes.” She never ceases to surprise. It should unsettle him how much she knows of his schedule, but instead he is – pleased. “And I don’t know. After the incident with the Olin maris, I don’t know if he’ll think we’re committed to the area. He might try cutting corners, thinking we won’t be paying attention.”
She props her chin in her hand and looks out over the ocean view. She’s the very picture of privileged idleness: fashionably slender and sun-kissed, beautiful and bored. The paps agree, by the number of clicking shutters.
He can’t read her expression, not with her Louis Vuitton sunglasses obscuring half her face, but he knows she’s mulling it over, devising a solution. As much as their arrangement is a scheduling nightmare – Haki is too clever by a half, but she cannot make more hours in a day – this has almost made it all worth it. It is…nice, to not be the only one thinking three moves in advance. To have someone in his corner, watching over him.
“I think it’s time that you stayed over my place.”
He startles, nearly upending his sparkling water. “Excuse me?”
“We’ve been together for a month or two now, haven’t we?” As if she does not have an accurate count down to the day. “By this point it’s probably surprising that you’ve not.”
Izana takes a sip from his glass, stalling for time. He should know better than to cede any sort of territory to her by now.
“Pack an overnight bag.” She runs the pad of her finger around her glass’s sweating rim. He swallows. “Let yourself be seen coming into my building with it.”
“I don’t think I’m the sort of man who brings an overnight bag.” His image is more the discreet playboy; he has any number of women willing to attest to having infrequent but intensely satisfying sex with him. None of them would vouch for his qualities as – as a boyfriend.
Haki’s mouth twists up in displeasure – a warning sign he misses. “And so I must be the kind of girl who gets taken to charity balls to be fucked in the toilets?”
He flinches; a loss of ground. “I didn’t say that.”
“Then what exactly are you saying?” Her mouth pulls into a bright smile, playing it up for the cameras, but he doubts it reaches her eyes. She has spent most of her life cultivating her public persona; she’s the good girl, the doting daughter, seen with all the young socialites someone her age should be seen with, but never close enough to their inevitable falls from grace to let her own halo to be tarnished. It would be so easy to spoil that, to make her just one more girl he’s used and discarded.
It would take a scandal to ruin him, but all it takes is the lack of an overnight bag to ruin hers.
“I could be seen entering your building,” he offers, far more calm than he feels. “I don’t see the need for a bag.”
The bag is planning. It’s commitment.
Haki’s lips curl up at the edge, playful and almost sultry. “The bag is the point,” she tells him, voice low. Her hand smooths over his, her fingers tracing the hard lines of his bones, and he find it hard to follow her logic.
“Is it?” he asks, so even.
She leans close, head tilted coyly. “If Izana Wisteria, consummate bachelor, is seen entering the building of Karl Bergstrom’s daughter with an overnight bag, what do you think that says about his commitment to the area?”
Her glasses have slid down her nose, just the smallest bit, but he can see the brightness of her eyes, the way her eyebrows lift in expectation, aren’t I so clever?
And she is, she is; he’s a man that looks at the world and sees a chessboard, but sitting here he sees an equal, an ally, maybe even a –
He tilts his head, closes the distance. He’s kissed her before for a number of reasons, but never have her lips felt like this beneath his, soft and full and pliant with surprise. Time stretches painfully in the single moment it takes for her to respond, but the way she presses up into him is so sweet he hardly minds the tightness in his chest.
When he pulls away, her eyes flutter open, her whole face wide with wonder. “What was that for?” she asks him, breathless.
He watches her fingers brush over her lips. Because I wanted to.
There are some things even he can’t say. Instead he smile, the same disaffected playboy smile the paps love, but – more. Or maybe this time, less.
“Do you suppose I should pack for the night?” he asks, leaning back. “Or have the young lovers planned for a weekend?”
Her smile curves into something far more sly. “Pack for one night.” She settles back, her foot brushing against his leg in a move that has more purpose than an accident. “It’ll be more meaningful, I think, if our bachelor gets carried away.”
Brilliant. “What would I do without you?” The words are teasing, even if the message is true.
Her eyebrows raise behind her sunglasses. “Not get this deal, for one.”
For the first time, Izana wishes he excelled at opacity as much as he did obfuscation, if only so he knew that there was a possibility that she could truly see him.