Chapter Text
Drake was not a believer by any definition. He was skeptical, doubtful, and pessimistic 99% of the time. So, when he finally got up the
stuttering
courage to ask Hina if she wanted to get dinner, he was pretty positive he’d died and was now living as either: A) a ghost, B) in an alternative universe or C) that Hina had been swapped with a body double.
But, despite the odds, she had shown up at the tiny little cafe sequestered between the reptile store and the overly strong tinsel smelling fabric and crafts store. Her hair was up off her neck, glimmering under the low lamp light, a black dress and black flats. She looked like a dream, a vision, a hazy wish. He didn’t deserve to be near her in his boring white button-up and black slacks. Inwardly he thanked Tsuru for gifting him such a nice pair of loafers for the holidays. Outwardly, he said something along the lines of “Wow, I don’t think you’re real.”
And she’d laughed. And his heart skidded to a stop. Then for some reason, Hina escorted him inside and sat down at a table with him. He had no idea what was on the menu. Had no clue what their waiter looked like. Had the food had taste? Maybe Hina’s had because he’d watched her lips quirk up in a smile as she took a forkful of spaghetti into her mouth.
Hina had a lovely voice, smooth and confident. A cute and kind lilt to it. He loved listening to her speak. So much better than his own voice so he felt like he was going to keel over when she asked him what he thought of his men, and the sheer amount of paperwork being a Captain in the Navy included.
She laughed when he told her about Ensign Telemus and trying to learn to ice skate in the North Blue. She frowned when he told her that vice Admiral Sakazuki seemed to give him the worst missions, testing his loyalty.
Why she was interested at all was one of the universe’s mysteries.
“Do you want to try some of mine?” Hina’s purple eyes sparkled like amethysts as she gestured at her plate of pasta. How could he deny her? The absolutely useless teenage remnant of his brain whispered indirect kiss at him as he slid his fork in. Hina did the same, the long noodles stretching and stretching and-
Was she getting closer? There was one long noodle stretching between them for some reason. He was dead. He had to be-
The pink on her cheeks was the most gorgeous color Drake had ever seen, better than a thousand sunsets.
His brain screamed colors and indecipherable shapes and patterns as her goddess lips met his. DirectKissDirectKissDirectKiss-
“Yep, I’m dead,” he breathed as she pulled away.
“Hina hopes not, she prefers her men alive for a second date.”
Second Date? Hina giggled at the look on his face and he smiled. He could live for this.