#anyway this is set after bergatt arc obv!

[sabraeal]

Wide Florida Bay | Next

The first post in the 600 Followers Holiday Gift-a-thon! This was technically supposed to be the last chapter of Sensitive Negotiations, BUT....that is taking longer than expected, so the schedule is a little out of order. But here is a nice slice of WFB to start off the month!

Kiki may be a New Englander through and through, but she will admit: there is something deliciously perverse about sitting poolside in March, barely wearing anything more than a bikini.

“So, now that the lightweights have gone home--” a lethally green cocktail plops down next to her, stuffed to the brim with tiny umbrellas-- “shall we go for another round, Ms Kiki?”

Obi’s three drinks relaxed, his vowels stretched long to a more musical miz. She’s heard of this phenomenon before; his first year in the frat, Obi had spent Halloween getting entirely wasted on craft pumpkin beer, and Mitsuhide had told her somewhere around three in the morning he’d slurred out a drawled ‘suh’  as he rolled him into bed. Charming, he’d called it.

“Just one more,” she agrees, shifting her knees so he can slide in next to her. “But only if we follow it up with water. I refuse to spend my first night in paradise holding your hair over a toilet.”

“Aww.” He wiggles in his chair, pleased. “You’d do that for me?”

“I just said I wouldn’t.”

His teeth flash white in the night, as quick as a meteor. “If you say so, Ms. Kiki.”

He sprawls out, long legs stretching out across the brick, letting loose a sigh so heavy he might as well be Atlas.

“So.” She arches a brow, settling back to match his slouch. “You’re dressed nice.”

If she had blinked, she would have missed how his shoulders tense, how for a brief moment his grin becomes a grimace.

“Oh, princess,” he drawls, recovered, “had I known you’d be down here I would have dressed to the nines.”

“But you didn’t and you’re not.” She sips at her cocktail, enjoying the sour citrus burn as she swallows it down. “So who did you take out?”

“Ahh-hah.” He squirms in his chair, shoulders hunched. “I can’t believe you guessed.”

“Obi, you’re wearing aftershave.” The coconut is a nice touch, but she’ll die before she tells him it mixes nicely with the sandalwood. “I can smell it from over here.”

His jaw drops, and she can see the moment he tries to smell it himself, where he wonders if it’s too strong or just enough -- and then he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. There’s not going to be a second date.”

Oh, curiouser and curiouser. “Is that so?”

“There’s not really much of a point.” His eyes dart to her, a flash of gold in the moonlight, before tilting up. “Not when I’m in love with Shirayuki.”

Kiki stares. It’s all she can manage for a handful of seconds, just staring at him as he stares at the moon.

“Oh,” she manages, “are you drunk?”

He flicks a flat look at her. “No. I just thought it was fair because, you know, Big Guy aired all your dirty laundry tonight. With the whole...”

Obi make a spiral-type gesture with his hand as he lifts his own glass, a clear invitation to fill in the blank he can’t bear to.

“Break up?” She shrugs. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

He nearly chokes on his Hurricane. “Miz Kiki.”

“He has a lot on his plate right now.” Kiki hesitates. It’s-- it’s hard to talk about this. There’s no one who knows Mitsuhide like her, not a soul, and she’s confident she knows what all this taking a break talk is about, but --

She’s Kiki Seiran. Cold. Unemotional. Reasonable. And out of any other mouth, this would sound like...denial.

But Obi leans in, attentive, not a hint of doubt or judgement on his face, and she just...lets go of all of it.

“It’s not about me,” she tells him, never feeling more like a high school girl in this moment.

“Of course not.” There’s not a hint of mocking in his voice, just simple earnestness. “Just look at you.”

Her mouth slants into a smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. But I mean...” She heaves a sigh. “This is about what happened with...”

She doesn’t have the words to explain it; this is about business and duty and a whole bunch of people Mitsuhide feels like he’s letting down, starting and ending with Zen, and--

“Touka Bergatt,” Obi supplies with a nod. “That whole shitshow.”

“Yes,” she sighs. “All that. He’s worried he’s failed, and now...”

“Now he’s throwing rocks at you because he loves you, I get it.” Obi presses a hand to his chest with a rueful smile. “I think we all know I get that better than anyone.”

A laugh barks out of her. “At least you’ve had the grace to outgrow it.”

His gaze drops to his drink, mouth stretched to a rictus grin. “I wonder.”

This is the problem with being Kiki Seiran: cold, unemotional, reasonable-- she doesn’t know how to handle things like this, how to grab someone else’s hand while they’re drowning. If money can’t fix a problem, she’s as helpful as a gawker on the beach.

“Besides,” she murmurs into her drink, letting the alcohol numb the sting of her awkwardness, “if he doesn’t come around, Hisame’s got a nice ass.”

Obi gasps, scandalized. “He does not.”

She lifts her eyebrows.

“Absolute not,” he insists, “his booty is distinctly not banging.”

“Mm.” She takes another sip. “This rating sounds biased.”

He presses a hand to his chest, wounded. “Miz Kiki, my taste is unimpeachable.”

“Your taste is adorable red heads who throw themselves into bodies of water,” she reminds him. “Which I suppose only proves your point.”

“Exactly,” he sniffs waspishly. “And don’t forget it.”

She giggles, smothering it with her drink, and in the pause she watches Obi’s face go on a journey. It lasts less than a second, but it’s clear: content to tense to concern to resignation, all culminating in the too-earnest gaze he turns on her.

“I meant to thank you,” he blurts out, fingers white around the stem of his glass. “For being a good friend. I mean, I’m glad we’re friends.”

She blinks. “Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

He sends her a half-hearted glare. “Kiki.”

“I’m just...” At a loss. Obi doesn’t really do emotions. It’s why she likes him so much. “Did you kill someone? Do I need to make it disappear?”

“Kiki.”

“Is that why we’re talking about--” she waves her hand-- “feelings?”

“No.” His whole body is shaking, and it takes her a mull moment to realize-- he’s laughing. “I just wanted to say you’re a good friend. Not just to me, but...” He hesitates, considering. “But you know, to Doc too.”

Ah, yes. That would be what mattered to him. “Obi, you know that Shirayuki is the single easiest person to love.”

He shakes his head with a huff of a laugh. “Don’t I. But I meant...” His mouth pulls into a grimace, like his words are a briar patch he needs to pick through. “She thinks a lot of you. Some people would be...weird about it. But you’re not. So...thanks.”

This is singularly the most confusing conversation she has ever been a part of, and considering how her close acquaintance involves Izana Wisteria, she feels like that says something. “It’s not a problem. I think a lot of her, too.”

“No, that’s not--” he sighs, running a hand through his hair-- “I mean, she really thinks a lot of you.”

Oh. Oh. That. “Huh.”

“And even though you don’t think of her quite as much,” Obi continues, as if somehow this was a less awkward way of discussing this, “you don’t-- get weird about it. Or take advantage. And lots of people would. Lots of people have.”

Kiki can only stare. She’d like to know some of those names. For reasons. “It’s a compliment that someone like Shirayuki likes me. After all,” she smirks, “it’s not like she’s Hisame.”

They share a grimace. She may not be wrong about his ass, but she still remembers what Obi had said after he’d met him again, after he’d heard how helpful he had rendered himself--

Oh, well. Obi’s grin is still bright in her memory. Since he’s decided to drink his Respect Women juice today, I guess we should all trust him forever.

“I know that,” he says. She wonders how it doesn’t kill him, watching her have so easily what he only wishes he could have.

Or well, what he thinks he could only wish to have. She’d seen how Shirayuki had looked that summer, waiting for Obi to take her to Boston for their date, an how she’d looked at him tonight when he’d offered to walk her to her room. Unlike Obi, Kiki isn’t blind.

“I mean...it’s good that you’re nice, even though you don’t like girls.” His face crumples, thoughtful. “Unless you do? You know, we’ve never really talk about this, so I guess you could, but then--”

“Oh my god, don’t hurt yourself, Obi,” she laughs. “Yes, I like men. Just men.”

He leans over the table, huffing out a relieved sigh. “Oh, good. Yeah, me too.”

It takes him a full second to realize what he’s said, to jolt upright and frantically clarify, “I mean, not just men. I mean that’s I’m, um--” oh god, he’s clearly torturing himself-- “you know--”

“Into both?” she offers as he blurts out, ���BISEXUAL.”

She blinks. “You used your words. That’s unprecedented.” She casts a dubious glance at his drink. “Are you sure you aren’t drunk?”

“Kiki,” he whines, pained.

Oh, of course he’d torture himself about this too. “I know you are, Obi.”

“What?” he squeaks. “Since when?”

“I didn’t mark it in my calendar.” He makes a sad puppy whimper, and she sighs. “I don’t know...probably not the first time I met you, but not too much after.”

Obi glances down at his lap, wide-eyed, like he’s never seen himself before. “But how?”

She gives him the flattest look she can summon with such short notice. “No one cares about Mitsuhide missing leg day so much unless they want to fuck him.”

“You did!”

“Then I guess the theory holds,” she deadpans. “If I knew that you were hiding it, I would have said something sooner.”

“I wasn’t hiding,” he insists, defensive. “I just didn’t think-- why didn’t you--?”

She shrugs. “I just thought it was so obvious that you assumed everyone knew. I mean, you talked about everyone’s asses.”

He lets out a honk that wouldn’t be out of place on a dying swan. “Do the Chief and Big Guy know?”

“Please,” she scoffs. “They can’t even find their own dicks, let alone yours. Besides,” she continues, mouth twitching into a smirk, “if Zen had known, he would have done more than eyefuck you for an entire year.”

Obi’s jaw drops. “W-what?”

She raises a skeptical brow. “What, did you miss it while you were busy flirting wildly with him?”

It’s not the first time she’s seen Obi blush, but this is definitely the most satisfying. “I did not!”

“I think I could count on one hand the number of times you did not walk around half the house with just a towel on after you showered when he was home.” She grins. “Flirting.”

He frowns. “Yeah, well, I could count on one hand the number of times you didn’t bend down in that field hockey skirt right in front of Mistuhide.”

Kiki gives him a pitying look. “That must have seemed like a much sicker burn in your head.”

“Yeah, that really would have worked better if you hadn’t, you know, ended up fucking him.” He cradles his head in his hands with a moan. “But Mitsuhide...”

“Obi,” she sighs. “I literally had to have his dick in me for him to realize I liked him, that is where Mitsuhide’s personal powers of observation are at.” She lets out a laugh, “He thought I walked into the shower with him by mistake.”

He stares at her, mouth twitching. “I really don’t know who I feel sorrier for.”

“It’s me,” she informs him. “Listen, if you don’t tell him something, he doesn’t know. So you don’t need to worry about that.”

Obi tips back his head, letting out a relieved sigh. “Right, good.”

“But you should.” He glances at her, brow furrowed. “Tell him, I mean.”

He tenses, shoulders hunching, his whole body retreating in on itself. “I don’t know...”

“Obi.” She presses her lips together, gathering her courage, and puts her hand over his. He jolts, fixing it with a wide-eyed gaze. “I know we don’t do...feelings. But--” she squeezes his hand-- “we’re here for you. Especially Mitsuhide. You’ve always been who you’ve been, and telling us who you are won’t change any of that.”

“Right.” he nods, quick, terse. “I...I know that. I do. It’s just...a hard habit to break, you know.”

“Yeah,” she says with a bitter laugh. “I know.”

He hesitates. “Chief will freak out, though.”

“Oh, almost definitely,” she agrees, settling back. “But he’s got...baggage. After the initial shock, he’ll come around. He’s just got to get over himself first.”

Obi rolls his eyes, a faint grin lifting his lips. “Yeah, and--” he peers over the edge of the banister-- “did Chief just throw Big Guy in the ocean?”

“What?” She peers over, watching Mitsuhide resurface before Zen begins to lay into him. “Oh, Jesus. Let’s go get them before they kill each other.”

“Aw, Miz Kiki,” Obi drawls, following behind her, “but Jolly Green wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

Kiki grunts. “Not who I’m worried about.”