Work Text:
The soft beginnings of rain were starting to fall as you walked down the street, on your way to a local dive. Tuesday meant it hadn’t been a busy shift, nevertheless you were ready to blow off some steam with a drink or two.
You stepped in the bar, quickly wiping your shoes of any offending water and headed to the counter. The place was old, but still fairly new to you, so you took in your surroundings while waiting for the bartender to find his way over.
The bar was dimly lit, sparsely dotted with a handful of others looking to unwind on a weekday. A jukebox played familiar tunes, loud enough to keep others’ conversations private but not so you had to yell to the person next to you.
Speaking of which, the fish sitting two bar stools over was…strangely familiar. Before you could get a proper look, the bartender caught your attention. You gave him your order and watched him leisurely pour the liquid in a glass, surely taking advantage of the slower pace tonight. Thanking the bartender as he slid your drink over, your attention was brought once again to the fish next to you, who was now drumming his fingers on the bar. You chanced another look and could not help but second guess yourself. Sure, plenty of famous fish came and went through town--it was probably common to bump into them--but it had never happened to you.
You hesitated, anxiously running through the “would this be too annoying” thoughts in your head. Ultimately this chance was not worth passing up, so you closed the distance.
“Sorry to bother, but are you…Taka? From Hightide Era?” his head whipped around to meet your gaze, immediately shifting from vaguely bored to absolutely beaming.
“The one and only. You a fan?” he asked. You nodded, and he grinned moving to the bar stool next to yours.
“Though I guess I’m just Taka now, Hightide Era isn’t really a thing anymore.” He produced a pen from behind his ear, “want me to sign something?” You nodded again, both baffled and grateful for his forwardness. People said he was a big attention seeker, asking fans for selfies instead of the other way around, but it was difficult to tell what was true. In this instance though…it seemed plausible.
You fumbled looking for something for him to sign as he told you about the band breakup, how they were actually on good terms but wanted to take things different directions and so on.
Waiting for a lull in his explanation, you sheepishly offered a bar napkin to sign instead.
“Whaaat, really? Just a napkin? Alright, you better not lose it cause I won’t be signing another!” You could tell he was just messing around, but had a sudden thought.
“Or, actually,” you started, unsure if this was too weird of a request, “could you sign my shirt?”
A short look of surprise crossed his face before returning to his ever present smirk.
“For sure. Where do you want it?” Taka gestured.
Great question. The first thought was chest, if only because that’s where it would be seen but…that sounds uncomfortably intimate. Shoulder would be fine, or maybe…
“The back?” You tapped a hand between your shoulder blades to demonstrate.
“Fine by me. It’ll be your ruined shirt either way,” he gave a laugh and moved to stand behind you.
You moved your hair out of the way, slightly hunched so he had a taut surface to write on. Okay, maybe this was worse than signing your front. Suddenly, you were acutely aware of how tall he was as a large hand brushed the nape of your shirt smooth before the other started with the pen. It could not have taken more than a few seconds, but felt like an eternity.
“Aaand done,” he said, seeming satisfied with his handiwork. “You’ll just have to trust me that I didn’t write anything stupid,” he added with a wink. You flushed a bit at that, but brushed it off wondering what his signature looked like.
He continued to ramble for a bit and you were all too happy to listen. Taka really was an interesting guy, and fun to talk to. You were surprised when he asked you about yourself as well, gladly keeping the conversation going.
“Aw shit, I wasn’t watching the time. Sorry I’ve gotta bounce, people to see and all that,” he finally announced after nearly an hour of chatting. Your heart deflated a little but knew you had gotten far more than you bargained for.
Taka glanced at the rain outside, “you got a ride?”
“No, I can walk,” you answer honestly. Taka hums at this, thinking.
“Nnnnah, I’ll call you a cab,” he replies and trots off before you can even protest. Within minutes a taxi arrives to take you home.
You try to give him cash, something, anything, because this is too much for just a fan but he brushes it off.
“No use being humble, I’d rather get you and your shirt—which has now tripled in value, by the way—home dry,” he gives his signature toothy grin and you can’t help but feel warmth in your face again.
Knowing it’s a losing battle, you accept, thanking him profusely. You wave your goodbyes and he shouts “and don’t forget to check out that signature!” as you pull away.
Sitting in the back of the cab you’re suddenly hit by how starstruck you feel, having such a positive encounter. Really, a good night in general.
Finally home, you pull off the shirt and find yourself absolutely exasperated by the idiot as you had been walking around with his phone number on full display for everyone to see.
* * * * *
"So, uh...what's up with that?" Nishida nods his head towards Taka's phone which has been buzzing nonstop for the past 15 minutes.
Taka sits with his head in his hands, cursing his own stupidity as phrases like "is this really HTE" and "hooked SUCKED" cross the screen beneath him. He doesn't answer Nishida, instead picking up the device intending to turn it off when a new message gives him pause.
The words "thanks for tonight, I really appreciate it. it was really cool talking to you" flash across the screen, and Taka smiles, leaving the phone on after all.
...Well, after he blocks all those other numbers.