Chapter Text
The bar is a dive; Jesse would know. It’s tucked into the awkward corner of a row of hobbled shops, sign a dingy yellow glow next to the neon signs lining the street. Foot traffic is heavy here- a group of 20-somethings swarm around and past him. Their voices are slurred and jubilant enough for him to know, past the language barrier, that there’s something worth celebrating themselves into oblivion.
He’s just had a long day, himself.
The door is heavy and grimy with sticker residue. A few men huddle together at a table, crowded with bottles and the evidence of a competitive game of gin. Other patrons sit at the bar, tired lines under their eyes and loose hands around their drinks. Two TVs mounted on the wall behind the bar play the evening news and a run of a recent soccer game. Jesse finds himself a seat at the far end, nodding a polite hello to the bartender and ordering a beer.
“You look tired.” He says as he sets the bottle in front of Jesse.
He racks his brain for a moment, chewing on the words to say “Am I that obvious?” His accent murders the words, but the barkeep huffs a laugh. The wrinkles in his face deepen when he smiles, knowing.
“It is my job to know when customers are tired. Tired men drink.” Jesse laughs, tilting his drink in acknowledgement to the joke. He’s left on his own then, the bartender attending to his other duties, and Jesse zones out on the news.
He’s two drinks deep, the late hour of the 11:00 news recounting what seems to be a house fire, when the front door to the bar bursts open. The man who stumbles inside has the indiscrete expression of youthful mischief written across his face, though he can’t be much younger than Jesse himself, if not the same age. When he approaches the bar, the bartender stands stiff at attention and asks after his order with extreme care.
“Anything.” He waves his hand and slides onto the nearest available stool, limbs drunken-loose, expression now sedate. “A round for my friends.” He gestures down the length of the bar- Jesse, a businessman in his forties, and a woman in the familiar waitressing uniform of a nearby café. Jesse’s not one to turn down a free drink.
He surveys the newcomer; he’s got the flush of a man well into his cups, but he holds his liquor well. (Jesse figures, by the way he watches the soccer game on the flat screen, eyes alert and following the plays as quick as they happen.) His hair is a shock of neon-green, but his roots are coming through. What’s more telling is how he’s dressed, and how he’s served. His pants are so well fitting they must be tailored, and he’s draped in some sparkly club-wear on his torso. His eyes are accented in red and he’s got glitter in his hair. He doesn’t appear to belong in this establishment. Yet the bartender serves him top-shelf without being asked, in a rocks glass, neat. An irregular regular, then, like himself.
The man flicks his eyes over to Jesse, catching him in the act. He has the grace to blush and feel an immediate sense of dread at breaking such strict etiquette. However, the other man leans against the tile bar top and grins. Lowly, he asks, “Would you answer a question for me?”
“Pardon?” Jesse blurts, forgetting himself. Before he can correct, the stranger laughs and repeats himself, this time in English.
“A question?” He waves in the direction of the ongoing soccer game.
“Well, I ain’t much of a sports fan, but I could give it a shot?” The man’s smile is dazzling. It’s drunken, and a little condescending, but flirtatious enough to have Jesse shifting in his seat. He’s struck by how pretty he is.
“No, no sports knowledge necessary. I confess, I cannot see the score. Are the Reds winning, or Gamba?
Jesse leans a little to the left and looks at the far screen. The scores are mostly-concealed by a chipped decorative statuette, but he has the superior angle.
“Looks like Reds, 1-0.”
“Ah, good.” He smiles again and thumbs the rim of his glass. “They are always the safe bet.”
Jesse returns the smile, feeling awkward, and takes a drink from his beer. The other man turns his interest back to the game. He drinks with the speed and consideration of a man who knows his alcohol; as if he wants to savor the taste and activity. It seems at odds with his drunken state so early in the evening.
The bartender tops him off without being asked. He turns again to Jesse as he takes another sip. “You seem far from home, cowboy.”
“Pardon?” He asks, for a second time that evening. He denies another beer and requests a water instead.
“Your accent.” The man props his chin on his hand, looks at him with considering eyes. They’re a brown that seems almost black in the low light of the bar. “The way you dress. You are from the American south, yes?”
Jesse laughs. “Who’s to say?”
The other’s eyebrows shoot up, and he cocks his head. He has the look of someone not often called on their shit, and Jesse has always been the type. “Who, indeed.” He straightens in his seat and tilts his head in deference. “Forgive me, I have been quite rude. I am Genji. What is your name?”
Jesse smiles and glances down at the bar, bowing his head minutely in return. “Name’s Jesse. It’s a pleasure.” When he offers his hand, the other takes it, shaking with more strength that Jesse would’ve pegged him for.
“The pleasure is all mine. Now that we are properly acquainted, may I ask where you are from?”
Jesse laughs- it’s loud, deep, the kind that’s out of place here in this quiet, laidback bar. Nobody spares him a glance, but the man in front of him grins. “Tennessee.”
Genji spreads his hands as if to say see? “Perhaps not a cowboy then, but close enough.”
“Close enough.” Jesse agrees, shaking his head but smiling nonetheless. “And yourself?”
Genji smiles again- it never seems to leave his lips, in fact, some sly smile or another. He slides from the stool, holding himself more gracefully than Jesse would have expected. “We must keep some mystery about us.” He leans heavily against the bar to say this, near conspiratorially, before pushing off and heading for the door. His stagger is half-affected, Jesse would wager, but there’s no shame in his game. His eyes follow the sway of his hips, and his stare lingers on the door long after it has closed behind Genji.
It is not the last time that Jesse sees Genji. The man crops up often at his favorite haunt. Their bar banter is the usual kind- the news, the current game on the screen, or their choice of alcohol. Jesse’s been feeling like there’s an undercurrent of something more. Genji is certainly one of the biggest flirts he’s ever met. The man never makes a move on him, though.
He introduces Jesse to Hanafuda after being bested at gin one too many times. They spend many a night in one of the corners of the bar, Genji ripe off a streak of clubbing, yet beating Jesse at near every hand.
“Ya damn cheat!” He hisses after a particularly heated round. Genji laughs, slouching in his seat with the magnitude of it.
“How could I cheat? And do not act as if you did not cheat at gin.” He sips his whiskey and rounds up the cards, shuffling quick and effortless. “Another game?”
“My last with you, ya filthy con.” Jesse slaps another note on the table and glowers as Genji deals out the cards, ever-present smile on his face. Jesse wrinkles his nose at the cards. His frustration had gotten the better of him early on in the night, and he’s admittedly far too drunk to concentrate on the mechanics of the game. He thumbs a willow card and Genji tuts.
“Don’t need no help.” He sneers, making the move. (Genji, of course, beats him.)
“I think we should call it a night.” Genji announces after their final hand. Jesse glares at the cards as they’re swept away, his mind unable to keep up with whatever underhanded moves Genji had pulled off to beat him.
“The hour never stopped ya before.” He’s sure if he plays one more hand, he could finally wrap his head around it. Maybe.
“No, but I do not think we will be allowed to stay here after they close.” He jests. Jesse blinks and looks around- the rest of the patrons have long since cleared out. The bartender has begun to close up around them, seemingly in no rush to get them out. Genji, however, is packing his cards away and clearing their table of excess bottles. Where had the time gone?
They leave together. Even drunk, he doesn’t miss the generous tip Genji leaves the barkeep. The streets are quieter at this hour. Jesse focuses intently on walking straight; he can handle his alcohol fine, but he’s tired and he’d definitely not paid enough attention to the amount he was drinking. Genji- the devil that he is- places a hand on Jesse’s elbow. He seems sober as ever, or at least no worse for wear than usual when he’s been drinking.
“May I help you back to your home?” Jesse grunts in acceptance. They shuffle through the streets, and the walk to his apartment seems awfully long. He sobers a little on the long, gentle incline leading up the block to his building. Genji is a confident weight at his side.
“Y’live nearby?”
His friend grins. “Why do you ask, cowboy?”
“Just seems impolite for y’ta walk a long ways back, just’ta walk me home.” Genji huffs a laugh, and his fingers squeeze reassuringly on Jesse’s arm.
“Do not worry about me.” Jesse looks down at him. His hair is disheveled, sweat and hair poduct and the cool night breeze doing their work well. His makeup is creased after so many hours of wear, and from this angle Jesse can see glitter behind his ear. Still, he manages to look unbearably attractive, and he has that sly little grin on his face. He looks like he could keep going on empty, until the sun came up or longer. Jesse feels suddenly so much older than he is, fatigue hitting him like a thousand bricks.
When they reach his apartment, he struggles with his keys until Genji slides in to help. His friend makes sure he’s inside, and reminds him to drink water before he leaves. Jesse locks up behind him and makes his way through the small apartment to his bedroom.
He can’t be assed with a shower, or with a proper change of clothes. He shucks off his pants and unbuttons his shirt, leaving them strewn on the floor in his wake. He falls into his bed without adjusting the blankets, merely lets the sheets swallow him, cold and empty.
Genji cajoles Jesse into joining him at a pachinko parlor the following weekend. Jesse’s had one hell of a week at work; what he’d really like to do is nurse a beer by himself at the bar, but Genji’s not the type to take no for an answer. He even appears to have made Jesse his first stop- he’s lacking his usual club attire and mid-binge stagger. It’s odd, in fact, to see him in dressed down business clothes- slacks, white collared-shirt, and hair neatly gelled back.
“Do you ever take a weekend off?” Jesse complains. Genji walks briskly down the sidewalk. Neon and fluorescent lights reflect off his skin. “Dunno how you party so much.”
“I could ask the same of you, Jesse-san.” The noise level begins to increase the closer they get into the entertainment district. Genji’s face and demeanor are no different than usual- easygoing, devil-may-care Casanova that he is. But his shoulders are a tense line as he navigates the street traffic ahead of Jesse.
“I just go out for a few drinks.” He defends himself. “Not dancin’ and gamblin’ my nights away.”
“Ah, so the 25.000Y you lost playing koi koi last week was…?” He looks over his shoulder at Jesse, smug and accusing all at once.
“Now you listen here-”
“We have arrived!” Genji stops short and Jesse nearly barrels into him. The parlor sings with lights and electronic pings. Rows upon rows of machines line the room, what feels like hundreds, and most are occupied. Genji considers the room, walking them up and down the rows before settling on some machines tucked into the back corner. He places his hands on Jesse’s shoulders and sits him down, walks him through the basics.
He has to lean in to be heard over the cacophony of the parlor, breath teasing over Jesse’s ear. He pulls the knob as instructed, watches the ball zing through the machine. It darts back and forth between pegs before falling into a catcher at the bottom. The machine pings sadly.
“Next time.” Genji near shouts into his ear, but it just makes Jesse shift on the stool.
Genji takes the machine to his right. Jesse admits he doesn’t find the appeal in pachinko- it’s like a mix of pinball and an arcade game, except the balls are more cumbersome than tickets. He does find that he can smoke, however, and he enjoys spending time with Genji, no matter how much he’s been trying to not. His time here is limited by his contract, and Genji doesn’t seem like the type for commitment. Jesse’s not above something casual, but the more time he spends with the man, the more he comes to enjoy him for who he is as a person, and the more he wars with himself on what to do about it. He suspects Genji wouldn’t be against him making a move, and furthermore doesn’t know whether that’s a good sign or a bad one.
At the end of their play- rather, another twenty minutes after Jesse refused to pay out for any more balls- they have their balls counted. Genji hands him one and pockets one for himself, winking at him. Genji encourages him to join their counts- together still not enough for the special prize, but enough for a zippo that Genji toys with constantly as they walk the streets later that night.
“Gonna tell me why we kept these?” Jesse holds out his hand, pachinko ball swirling in his open palm.
“It’s a tradition of mine.” Genji admits. There’s something… private, about the smile he shares with Jesse, moreso than any before it. “I take one from every parlor I visit. I have quite the collection.” He tilts his head, and that cocky grin is back. “Perhaps I could show you sometime.”
Jesse wants to ask him if he woos everyone like this- drinks, cards, late night pachinko and walking him home when he’s had too much. The temptation of a pachinko ball collection the veil for something else. But he’s just as silent as he ever is when they part ways tonight. Part of Jesse doesn’t want to know.
They bump into each other at lunch.
It’s weird to see one another during the day. Jesse has his hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, and he’s looking over a file as he indecisively picks at his curry. When he catches sight of Genji, it’s only due to his hair. He’s otherwise the perfect picture of a businessman, from the shined shoes to the perfectly pressed suit. His face lights up when he sees Jesse, and he comes to greet him as he waits for his food.
“It is no good to be hard at work during your lunch hour.” He claps a hand on Jesse’s shoulder, eyes tracking the papers Jesse condenses back into their folder. He shrugs.
“Not much I can do ‘bout it, I’m afraid.” He gestures at the seat across from him. “You’re welcome to join me.”
“Ah, now that would be a pleasure, but I must return to the office soon.” He makes the universal expression which colloquially expresses ‘I’d rather die.’ “I thought I would use this chance to get some fresh air, so I begged off my assistant to let me takeaway lunch.”
“The office, huh? Sure lookin’ sharp.” Jesse settles back into his seat, gives him a once over. Genji smiles at him knowingly. “Wouldn’t’ve expected a guy like you to be so business minded.”
“I am a man of many talents, Jesse-san. As are you, it seems.” He taps on the folder.
“Jus’ contract work. The paperwork ain’t the half of it, but it’s a necessary evil.”
“What kind of contractual work?” Genji tilts his head in consideration. He really is quite the picture in that suit.
“Oh, somethin’ an old army buddy got me into. After I got outta the service I needed somethin’ to do. Too much sittin’ around’s bad for a man like me.”
“Oh yes, you strike me as the type to always be in motion.” He doesn’t even try to feign the sarcasm in his tone. Jesse sneers at him.
“I’ll have you know-”
The intercom calls a number and Genji perks up, turning towards the counter. “Ah. That is me. Right on time.” He smiles at Jesse and begins to side-step away. “We should continue this conversation. Tonight? The usual place?”
“It’s a Wednesday.” Jesse protests weakly.
Genji laughs, and doesn’t that just hurt, the clear intent of that sound. “Learn to live a little spontaneously. I will see you tonight, my friend.”
“Y’ain’t told me much ‘bout yourself.” Jesse says as he takes his turn dealing for a new hand of gin. He shuffles quick and easy and lets the cards go with an expert flick of his wrist. Genji is taking the break to scroll through his phone, his other hand hovering around his tumbler. It’s a moment longer before he raises his eyes from the screen, smiling apologetically.
“Forgive me. I am afraid, were I more forthcoming, you would find me boring.” He sets his phone down and takes a drink before picking up his cards.
“Nonsense.” Jesse thumbs through his own hand, rearranging the cards to his desires. “Y’get me drunk and ramblin’ in here enough nights. Time to ‘fess up.”
The other man looks thoughtful. He draws from the deck and discards without a play. Jesse looks at him from across the table, refusing to break eye contact even as he plays, relying on his periphery. Genji relents with a huff of laughter.
“I am a businessman. You know this.” Draw. Discard. Rearrange. “I work for my father’s company. I oversee an array of employees in a department that handles stocks and accounts.” He frowns, brow dimpling just-so above his nose. He sets out a set of three nines and discards a seven. “I am 25. I grew up here, in Kyoto, although I attended university in Osaka.”
“That’s not too far, huh?” Jesse plays a six off of Genji’s clubs.
“No, not at all.” He seems to consider his next few words. “It was far enough. It was good to get away, for a while. I have an older brother, you see.”
“Ha. Yeah.” Jesse takes a drink from his beer. “Kinda know what that’s like.”
“You have siblings as well?”
“Well.” Jesse scratches at his jaw. He’d cut himself shaving the morning before and it’s itching something fierce. “Uh. I got a foster sis?” He looks up at Genji then, to gauge his reaction.
The smile on his face knocks the breath out of Jesse. It’s warm, considering. He raises his eyebrows, nods at Jesse. “Ah?”
“Yeah, uh,” He fumbles with his cards, sets them aside while Genji plays to grasp at his beer. “We were in a few homes together. Last one, together, actually.”
“What is she like, then?”
“Thorn in my side.” He chuckles. “Annoying. Too smart for her own good.” He smiles sadly.
“Yes, you would know what it is like, then.” Genji plays a set and calls out. Jesse blinks, looks at the cards in his hand and the ones on the table.
“You- How-”
“You didn’t think you’d keep beating me forever, hm? Not with all those tells you have.”
“I do not have tells!”
Genji’s laughter is bright.
The end of Jesse’s contract seems to approach at a crawl, and then out of nowhere the day is there. The paperwork has long been filed and he’s left with a flight to book and an apartment to pack up. He feels a little helpless with his time now that he’s got two weeks to fill up. Friday night drinks suddenly feel like precious time, and he fights with himself all week on what to do about the situation at hand. He doesn’t know if he wants to ruin a good thing, or leave with a bang. Maybe quite literally. Hell, he’s not sure he’s even been reading the signals right- Genji flirts with anything that moves.
That weekend he has a drink already waiting for his friend when he arrives. He comes in like a controlled storm, glitter and mesh and tight leather pants. When his eyes fall on the glass, he grins bright and happy at Jesse and thanks him.
“Could I convince you to leave this place?” Genji props his chin on his hand and flutters his lashes. He has green eyeliner tonight, neon metallic and sharp. “I’m starved.”
“Hah. Sure.” Jesse waves over the bartender to close out his tab. “Though I don’t know what’ch’re after this late.”
“Silly. You do not get out enough.” Genji loops his arm around Jesse’s arm, leans into him a bit heavily. He’s definitely drunker than usual, but Jesse figures he’ll feel better after they get some food into him.
“I get out plenty.”
“Yes, drinking on the weekends at the same bar.” He laughs and looks up at Jesse. The way he turns has him pressing his cheek into Jesse’s bicep, the angle making his eyes look sultry as he looks at Jesse from underneath full lashes. “You are some big partier.”
“Well, we can’t all be like you.” He looks away, the eye contact doing disastrous things to his head and heart both. Genji finds his words extremely funny, seemingly, because he laughs long and hard.
“No, it would seem not.” He tugs on Jesse’s arm and leads him down a side street, pulls up short outside a ramen shop. Jesse tries not to feel the sting of him pulling away to duck under the short curtains. He finds a stool and pats the one beside him.
“Join me.” Jesse does. The leather is worn and the stool squeaks as he settles onto it. A mix of scents hit him, savory and smoky and heady. Genji orders for them both then swivels around on his chair, looking at Jesse. “How are you, my friend?”
Jesse smiles, quick and small. “Never been better. Ain’t done much this week. I got a week’a freedom ahead of me.”
“Is that so?” Genji tilts his head, palms his chin again. “Vacation?”
“Uh,” He scratches the scuff on his jaw anxiously. “My contract’s up, actually.”
“What will you do for work?” Genji asks. The way he leans against the counter pulls the neckline of his shirt down, reveals the taut line of his throat all the way down to his collar. Jesse swallows.
“Well, I gotta go back home. To America, that is.”
Genji blinks, and leans back from the counter. “Oh.”
Their food comes, then- two sizable bowls, steaming, the scent making Jesse’s stomach growl. Genji wipes the stunned expression from his face, lapsing back into that familiar smile. He digs into his food with as much fervor as his proclamation of being starving had promised, builds the conversation back up into their usual casual chatter. Jesse can’t help but look at his smile and wonder if any of the one’s preceding it had been as plastic as this one.
It’s well into the night by the time they leave. Genji finds his place at Jesse’s side again, hand firm on his arm but walking steadier now. He leads them through a tangle of streets, talking animatedly as they go. Jesse is so absorbed he hardly notices being led into a residential area, lights low and yellow, apartments rising higher into the air. The shrubbery here is nice, the streets cleaner. He’s walked Genji home- rather, been escorted to Genji’s home by the man himself. He resists just slightly when Genji stops at a stoop.
“Aren’t you coming?” The man asks, detaching himself to walk up the steps. Jesse hesitates, but follows. Genji buzzes in, and Jesse freezes in the entryway.
Genji quickly notices his presence, or lack thereof, and turns around to smile bemusedly at him. “Don’t just stand there.”
“I don’t think we should do this.” Jesse blurts. He’s not sure where that came from, exactly, because he sure as hell hasn’t formed a 100% honest opinion on this with himself.
Genji’s eyebrows raise. “Ah.” His face doesn’t fall- he’s more sober now, obviously has more of a handle on himself than Jesse does in this moment. “I misread. I apologize.”
“No, you-” Jesse starts, stops off with a click in his throat and an awkward shuffle. “Gen, there’s nothin’ more’n I’d like to do than follow you up to your apartment and let you wreck me.”
At this, the other man’s face does fall. It opens up, a little suspicious, but the smallest, smuggest smile on his mouth. Don’t his cheeks ever hurt? “Then why don’t you?”
“I really… really like you.” Jesse shoves his hands into his pockets, pulls his shoulders in. A nervous habit he hasn’t adopted in a long time. “I don’t wanna leave it like this.”
“Who says we have to leave it?” Genji crosses the small lobby towards him, places a hand on Jesse’s forearm. His touch feels like a livewire- his entire being does, drawing Jesse’s attention from that first drunken, shimmery tumble into that dive bar. Their dive bar.
“I only got a week left.” Jesse protests.
The fingers at his wrist press firmer, curl around to hold, Genji leaning up and into his space. For a moment Jesse fears he’s going for a kiss, but he just leans in against his neck, noses along his jaw. His lips are so close to Jesse’s skin they’re just a whisper of soft flesh-on-flesh. “It could be a very good week.”
There’s no mistaking every loaded suggestion that the sentence entails, and Jesse shudders at it, a full-body shake. “Sugar…”
They do kiss, then; all it takes is the slight tilt of Genji’s head. His kiss is like a fire, all-consuming, burning hot. He kisses like he means it, the steadiness of his hands pinning Jesse in place, the heat of his mouth enticing him to move in defiance of it. He tastes like alcohol and spice and skin, smells like sweat and faded cologne. It’s all so intense and heady, Jesse gasps when Genji pulls back. He switches gears, mouthing at the line of Jesse’s jaw, which can’t be all that comfortable, but he does it with a fervor and an expertise that has Jesse weak in the knees.
“Come back to my apartment with me.” Genji asks, lips sinful against his neck.
“I can’t.” Jesse all but whimpers.
“You can.” His hands slide up Jesse’s chest, over his shirt, exploratory, his skin breaking out in goosebumps. “You should.” He says this right against Jesse’s lips, then sucks on his lower lip until Jesse shakes.
“Genji, please,” He manages to get his hands on his shoulders, push him back just enough. “I can’t. God, I wanna. But I can’t.”
Genji’s mouth is kiss-swollen, red and enticing and Jesse wants to cry from it. He has to be out of his right mind to deny Genji- and himself- this. He sweeps his hands up Genji’s neck, cups his face, thumbs at the swell of his bottom lip. “You understand, right?”
“Not really.” Genji says, voice rough. Jesse gives him a soft, accusatory expression. Genji deflates, turns his face against Jesse’s palm. His response is muffled into his skin. “Yes.”
Jesse swallows and sways on his feet. Against his better judgment he leans in to kiss him one more time, slower and deeper given the upper hand. Genji makes a pleased noise into his mouth that does all the right (and worst) things for him. He pulls back and releases him, breathing hard.
“I’ll see you next weekend. One last drink, got it?”
Genji licks his lips. “One last drink.” He agrees.
Jesse watches him walk away.
“You saved me a seat.” Genji jests as he slides onto the chair next to Jesse. The entire bar is empty, save for them. His voice is hoarse, as it often is after he’s been out all night.
“Had’ta fend people off for that one.” Jesse plays along. The barkeep approaches, and Genji orders an ice water of all things.
“Long night?”
Genji laughs, that little huff that sounds realer than anything. “When has it not been?”
“You promised me a last drink.” Jesse reminds him, gesturing with his beer bottle.
“Yes, well.” Genji sips his water. “I will switch when it is our last drink. I will make the time count.” There is a moment of pregnant silence, only disturbed by the quiet drone of the evening news and a replay of a tennis match on the flatscreens.
“You will keep in touch, cowboy?” His voice is soft, uncharacteristically so.
“…If you want.” He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, emotion simmering under his skin.
“I do.”
“Then, yeah. ‘Course I will.” Jesse looks at him, makes sure he understands he really means it. Genji smiles. Jesse knows- this one means something.
“Bartender.” Genji calls. “A bottle of your finest, and two glasses, please.”