Cocktail

Summary: All he'd wanted was a mug of his favourite coffee. Was that so much to ask for? AU SasuHina

Disclaimer: If I owned Naruto, SasuHina would be canon.

Red Wine
Curiosity killed the cat…

Feeling somebody jostle his shoulder to attract his attention, Sasuke turned to face the guilty party, his eyes meeting the sea green orbs belonging to one Haruno Sakura.

His face remained impassive as he surveyed the other, wondering how she had managed to distract Naruto long enough for her to be able to bother him, when she finally spoke.

"Sasuke, the waiter was asking what you wanted for your starter."

Sasuke blinked in response before briefly flicking his gaze over the menu, grunting "The 'Tomato and Basil Soup'." He sighed in a thoroughly bored manner.

Sakura threw an apologetic smile over her shoulder to the waiter, as if she were minding a spoilt son.

Sasuke paid her no heed; instead he turned back to observing the familiar looking trio sitting a few tables away from his own.

It seemed that Konohamaru had now parted from their company for his own table once more, and the three of them had taken their seats as they conversed amiably. Only two of the three's faces were visible from his angle, but Sasuke still could not shake the distant feeling of familiarity that struck him every time he glanced their way.
One of the visible pair had long, brown hair tied midway down his – and it seemed that he was indeed male – back whilst the other seemed to share the inky blue-black that his own hair sported. Both individuals, however, had opalescent eyes which seemed to shimmer like the reflection of the moon in water. It was this feature that unsettled Sasuke the most.
Of the third member of the group, only the hair and figure – undeniably female – could be discerned; straight blue-purple bangs flowed down her back, the odd lock flicking occasionally.
A crease formed in Sasuke's brow – he still could not recall ever seeing the visible pair before (and in that case, he highly doubted that he'd ever met the third either).

His interest was tugged in a different direction as his self-imposed interrogation was interrupted by Naruto's boisterous voice.
"I know you said that you were going to meet an 'acquaintance', but you didn't mention it being your girlfriend." He chuckled as heat visibly rose to Konohamaru's cheeks as he vehemently denied Naruto's claims – though this only served to cause the blonds grin to widen.
"So if she isn't your girlfriend," Naruto continued, his tone clearly unconvinced, "then who is she?"

Konohamaru shifted uncomfortably for a moment before opting to take his own seat. His arms folded to rest on the table, and when the waiter asked for his order he was grateful for the distraction. Though Naruto's penetrating gaze combined with Sasuke's steady stare and Sakura's curious lamps pushed him into submission.
"Look, she's just a friend – no, acquaintance – from when I was at college, okay? She was in the year above mine, so we only saw each other in a few free periods, and that was only because of mutual friends…" Konohamaru looked slightly forlorn as he recounted this, making even Naruto a little sceptical.
"So, has she got a name?" As he had known would be the case, his simple query was greeted with shocked expressions. Sasuke merely raised a brow; he wasn't receiving any answers.
Once Konohamaru had gotten over his initial shock, he did actually respond, "Hanabi; her name is Hanabi Hyu-" Cut off by the arrival of a man, he looked up and smiled, "Thank you for the invitation Ureshino-san; I look forward to the meal."
Naruto marvelled at how civilised the boy had become from how he had been when he was younger as Sasuke frowned. The name did not sound familiar… Did he know any Hanabis personally?

The remainder of the meal was fairly uneventful; Konohamaru and Sakura gossiped as Naruto and Sasuke bickered. Sakura and Naruto chattered as Konohamaru gazed at Hanabi. Sasuke too found his eyes unconsciously trailing back to that table in particular.
Apparently feeling his scrutiny, the brown haired male regarded him coolly, his own glittering orbs hardening into a stare as Sasuke returned the glare – he wasn't intimidated in the slightest.

Sasuke broke away from the staring contest smugly, his manner screaming 'How very juvenile' as he instead examined the various paintings adorning the walls.

He was ready to turn and scowl at Naruto (who had unwittingly managed to knock his wineglass over, spilling the contents onto Sasuke) for the drops of rouge now staining his jeans, when something else caught his attention.

A painting, meticulous in detail with colours ranging from muddy brown to vibrant orange. There stood an erupting volcano in the centre, painted in the traditional style of sumi-e, the colours bold and striking. A comedic feel was also created by softer shades, and Sasuke realised that instead of lava, the rocky mountain seemed to be divulging ramen noodles.
The image of an incomplete sketch flashed in his memory and his head whipped around, his neck clicking awkwardly in the process.

The brown haired man noted his gaze once again, but Sasuke ignored him this time. The blue haired woman – Miss Blue Hair from Arisa's of course! – seemed to sense him watching her. She tilted her head to the side slightly as she scanned the room, finally blinking in recognition when she found him. Her reaction to his presence was more dignified than his own, sending a small smile and nod in his general direction before continuing her conversation with – Hanabi, was it? – and Ureshino, the restaurant's owner.

A thought struck him like a tonne of bricks, though his moment of epiphany was disrupted as the sounds around him brought him back down to earth; Sakura berating Naruto for his clumsiness, Naruto trying to apologise to him, Konohamaru not even bothering to conceal his chuckles.

He wasn't sure whether he was relieved that Naruto had managed to spill his wine – less for him to drink – or annoyed that he'd now have to scrub the stain off his jeans.

One thing he did know was the one Miss Blue Hair from Satoshi and Arisa's Tea House had suddenly become of great interest to him.

x X x

"Neji-nii, is something wrong?"

Having just finished a discussion with Ureshino-san, Hinata blinked, looking from her curious sister to her cousin, who seemed to be frowning to himself.

"Nii-san?" Hinata prodded with concern.

His gaze, which seemed to be intent on something far into the distance, came back into focus as he surveyed her calmly. Only a slight twitch in his brow indicated any agitation. "It's just that…" Neji shook his head. "It's nothing."

Hinata and Hanabi exchanged a conspiratorial glance as they both wondered what was on his mind.

x X x

He entered the café without much thought, placing his order as usual before pausing and requesting a hot Panini too; skipping lunch, it turned out, was not the smartest of decisions, but he had to admit; he had been able to complete some much needed work and although it had been unpleasant, that phone call to Kusunagi Publisher's had been necessary.

Sinking into the chair opposite Miss Blue Hair without bothering to check for another unoccupied table (the one formerly occupied by himself was also free), he took a long draught from his mug feeling some tension leave his shoulders.

The lady opposite him gave a small smile in a way of greeting, continuing her steady progress on whatever it was that she was working on, only stopping briefly to sip her drink before continuing.

As for himself, Sasuke made a start on his Panini; had he lacked self control in the way that Naruto did (when it came to food anyway) he probably would have wolfed the whole thing down in one go. As it was he calmly savoured his lunch as his eyes travelled over the expanse of the café.

Gaze roaming the walls, he quickly found what it was he sought; a new painting placed above the sofas on the other side of the room.
Appropriately enough this painting depicted a mug filled with a dark substance (quite possibly the same black coffee that he had noted that its creator – whose identity he had all but confirmed – always had). The mug and the saucer upon which it rested a soft cream colour, contrasting with the colour it contained, seemed to be floating on the undisturbed water. The substance within the mug emitted steam which curled and coiled forming barely perceptible shapes against a darkened sky; the silhouette of a child curled up with a book, another clutching a teddy, a rocking horse and an old fashioned tea pot, a plate of cookies, a single rose and a pile of feathers… each coil spinning a tale of the memories of childhood weaved nostalgically within the layers of paint which the picture was made of.

Although the stylistic features of the painting were entirely different to those of the ramen-volcano, Sasuke couldn't deny that something tied the two paintings together.

Sasuke took a bite of his Panini and glanced thoughtfully across the table at the woman across him, completely engrossed in her picture. Yes, it was definitely her. He was almost certain of it.

His only perceivable problem was how he would approach her…

The opportunity presented itself to him with no effort required on his part at all. Sasuke had finished his Panini and was contentedly sipping his latte when it arose in the form of a ringing mobile phone. Miss Blue Hair's to be precise.

Sasuke noted with amusement that she started at the noise erupting from her pocket but soon averted his gaze to study another painting instead of her. He could make out her soft voice but did not listen to the words she uttered. That is, until she had gotten up to stand beside him.

"Um, excuse me?" It took him a moment to realise her voice was now next to his ear and being directed at him intentionally before he turned to face her; she now had the phone in her hand with her fingers stretching over the receiver as she spoke to him. "I'm sorry to bother you, but would you mind keeping an eye on my belongings just as long as I answer this call? It's breaking up in here because of bad reception…"

Sasuke's usual response to such a request – when made by friends let alone strangers – was to scowl at them. If that was not enough to send them scurrying he put to use the vast store of scathing remarks he kept locked away in his brain for such times.

It was in his best interest to keep them to himself; he nodded mutely instead.

She seemed satisfied with this, however, and made her way to the door. She positioned herself so that she would be able to see from outside if he tried to walk off with her possessions; so she wasn't completely naïve after all.

Having been given this chance Sasuke did not intend to let it slip away; he reached across the table and grasped the sketchbook which had been left closed on the table, glancing surreptitiously at the window to see its owner frowning and speaking into the phone, momentarily distracted from her surveillance of him.

Settling comfortably back into his chair he opened the book to the first clean page.

A pencil sketch of an archaic looking mansion surrounded by trees was revealed, and again Sasuke was impressed by the attention given to detail.
The next page was another picture of the same mansion though this time in charcoal and seemingly drawn at a different time of day judging from the differing positions of light and shadow.

The next few pages were filled with pictures of people, some including Miss Blue Hair herself and some without. One dated back to about six months ago, a self portrait it seemed. In a couple he also recognised the other two that he had seen accompanying the artist at the restaurant the other day.

The three of them appeared in another picture, though this one did not seem to be drawn so seriously with big eyes and small bodies. In the middle was a shy looking blue haired girl with pink staining her cheeks and fiddling with her sleeves. On her right was an energetic looking black haired girl with a mischievous grin and on the left was an irritated brown haired boy with a glare that Sasuke recognised and a vein on his forehead to echo his sentiments. Sasuke almost cracked a grin as he turned the page.

The next page was another self portrait, more recent than the other marked both by the date of completion and the improvement in the picture.

The following page was the last which was not plain and had not yet been dated. It was this piece which made Sasuke's usually apathetic eyes fly wide open in surprise.

Staring back up at him was a tired, disgruntled looking incomplete depiction of himself with a mug of coffee raised to his lips. His eyes had a sharp clarity about them, which he accredited to the mug shown in his grasp.

He could remember having portraits of himself made on a school trip to Paris though the result of those had been completely different to what he saw here; the caricatures were overly humorous as was the intention, and the portraits were just… too perfect. Others had thought the resemblance to be uncanny (though they tended to be the ones who thought that he was perfect; what a foolish notion!) but Sasuke couldn't see himself in them. Not the way he did in this one.

He stole another glance outside and it seemed as though she was saying her last words to her caller. Grabbing one of the pencils on the table he scribbled a note and turned back a few pages.

x X x

A slight crease in her brow, Hinata slid her mobile wearily into her pocket as she edged between tables and approached her own, her mind already longing for more black coffee and fingers itching restlessly for a pencil. As she came closer to her destination her lips parted in surprise. The man with whom she had recently been sharing a table was idly sipping his drink (his plate now completely empty) as he turned the page of her sketchbook.
Not yet sure what to make of this scene, Hinata slid slowly back into her seat. As she took her mug from the table, the man started, looking a little uneasy as he met her eyes; and why not? His situation was comparable to being caught rifling through another's handbag.

In an attempt to break the awkward silence Hinata bravely attempted conversation. From what she could remember of him, the man was not fond of prolonged speech but she didn't really care much at this point.
"Um… Thank you for keeping an eye on things here,"
He raised a brow as if to remark 'that's one way of putting it,' and she smiled back sheepishly.
The man sighed, closing the book with care before leaning over the table to return it to its rightful owner. "Sorry for looking without asking; I was curious…"
He wasn't looking at her anymore, his face turned to the side. She recognised his expression as one that Neji often wore when he apologised – it was a sight she didn't get to see often.
"I-it's okay, I guess," was Hinata's response as she belatedly wondered whether his attention had fallen on her latest sketch. Her cheeks grew warm at the thought.

Hinata had thought that to be the extent of their exchange taking into his apparent lack of interest in conversing and her own aversion to speaking when it could be avoided, so his next question took her completely off guard.
"Do you have a portfolio or anything that you would show to prospective clients?"
Hinata blinked. She hadn't expected that.
All business now and apparently more comfortable with speaking now that it was on his own terms, he fixed his eyes on her as her mind scrambled to answer.
"Actually, I have a few paintings in this month's exhibition at a nearby gallery; tomorrow's the last night… b-but yes, I do have a portfolio though it's not with me right now."
He gazed at her speculatively for a moment, using her pause to lift his own mug to his lips. Setting it down again, he spoke.
"Could I have the details for this exhibition? I'm interesting in requesting a commissioned piece, though I'd like to see more of your work before coming to a decision."
Again, Hinata bliked.
Whatever explanation she had been expecting, it certainly hadn't been that.

x X x

Stepping out of the rain and into the shelter of the gallery, Sasuke shook out his umbrella.

Truth be told, he hadn't thought that his plan to approach Miss Blue Hair about her art would go – well, he wouldn't exactly call it smoothly but – well enough for him to be able to observe more of it so soon; her somewhat meek personality had been what he had envisioned to being his greatest obstacle in requesting to view her portfolio, for if he could not even bring up the subject in conversation then he'd be back to square one.

Even so, she had seemed a little hesitant as she scribbled down the details of the exhibition in a page from a small notebook she had pulled from her handbag. As she tore out the piece of paper and handed it to him, she seemed to be studying him. He had been surprised when she had said (without a single stumble) "After what you've seen already, I'm sure that you will be able to tell which pieces are by me… If they are to your taste, feel free to contact me." She had then nodded at the paper he held (when he later turned it over he found an e-mail address and mobile phone number scrawled across the back) and excused herself.

The sudden contrast in attitude had amused him, and he was quite conscious of the fact that she had not introduced herself – this had fuelled his curiosity in both the art and the artist herself.

The gallery itself was quaint – not quite quirky enough to be labelled 'obscure' but filled with enough originality to feel refreshing. The paintings here were not permanent residents – just temporary tenants biding their time until they travelled to replace other paintings elsewhere, as they in turn were replaced.

At a glance he could see no reoccurring feature which tied all of the present paintings together for which they would all be in the same exhibition, though admittedly he wasn't actually particularly interested in this matter.

Ignoring the over exuberant greeting form the desk to his right, Sasuke deposited his drenched umbrella in the provided basket heading straight to the nearest wall, inspecting each painting for any traces of that great combination of boundless imagination rooted firmly in reality that he had experienced in his other encounters with her work.

As he eyed the third column of pictures carefully, his eyes widened.

'Ah ha!'

A square canvas had been skewed to the side so that it really resembled a diamond, though from the way that the pictures on it were presented, it was intentional. Separated into four equal panels (in the same way as a traditional window), each 'window' had an identical figure in the middle; a little girl. She looked completely ordinary; the colours used muted and tame, her eyes dull and hair lank. In the topmost corner, her shadow was the silhouette of a doctor, towering behind her in the place a shadow would take at noon, injection in hand and clad in a lab coat. To the right at the three o'clock position, the same girl's shadow (not positioned to correspond to the approximate place for a shadow to appear at three o'clock in the afternoon) now held a tennis racquet and ball, sweat band and tennis dress in place, complete with a visor. Six o'clock's shadow held an elegant posture as she put bow to string on her violin, nine o'clock leaning over an easel with a paintbrush in at her fingertips (positioned to reflect their times respectively). The background was an unassuming hue of light blue, enhancing the overall darkness of the picture and emphasising the solid shapes depicted.
The small plaque beneath the canvas stated:

"Unbidden Dreams"

Tomoko Himura

His eyes quickly sought out three more pieces by the same artist, now completely certain that he had the right ones; two of the three illustrated varied abstract ideas, all tied together by the general style. The third was quite another matter, however.

Again, this one was a canvas with acrylic paint, but this time the subject matter took a more morbid turn.

The main feature this time was a pool of blood in which the barrel of a gun was reflected. Its owner still had their hand on the trigger. The painting consisted of only black outlines and varying shades of red, only breaking this trend for the solitary, pale blue tear that ran down the boy reflected's cheek.

Sasuke felt his stomach lurch slightly as he realised that it was constructed to position viewers in the perspective of the one lying on the ground; it was slightly reminiscent of the penultimate scene in the second book of the trilogy he had just completed writing.

He allowed himself one more, fleeting look at the exhibition before turning on his heel and striding back in the direction of the door. He glanced at his watch briefly. He'd been there for half an hour. Depositing a small donation into the provided box, he retrieved his umbrella and exited the gallery, pulling his mobile from his pocket as he did so. He had a call to make.

x X x

Rinsing the last of the washing up liquid from her hands, Hinata stole a glance at the table; it wouldn't do for there to be any of the residue of her dinner on the table if she was to get her laptop out. Finding it to be of an acceptable standard of cleanliness, she dried her hands and took out her laptop, sliding into a seat, waiting for it to load up whilst tapping her foot with impatience.

As was her routine, she opened an internet window to check her e-mail (she was by no means popular, but she preferred to be as prompt to those she received as possible).
There was one new e-mail in her inbox, and from an address she did not recognise.
Curious, she opened it,

Ms Himura

Having spoken to you yesterday, I have visited the exhibition in which your artwork was featured and am interested in placing an order for commission.

I am an author and would like to speak to you about cover art for my next book, so would it be possible to arrange a meeting with yourself and my editor to discuss the nature of the work, and for my editor to view your portfolio if possible?

If you would like to look into my work before coming to a decision as to whether or not you would like to meet, I write under the name 'Haru Umeda'.

I look forward to hearing from you either way,

Haru Umeda

(The Guy Who Sits At Your Table At Arisa's)

Well, it certainly was interesting; it seemed that he was aware that she had purposefully neglected to give him her name and had reciprocated in a similar manner (as strange as it sounded in writing): she supposed that she would discover his real name if they met, and vice versa.

She was just reaching for the 'reply' button when her fingers paused, as if suddenly remembering something.
Crossing her living room to climb around her easel, Hinata plucked her sketchbook from her stool and flicked through it as she settled in front of the laptop again.
When she had been initially approached by the odd man in the coffee shop, it had occurred to her that he may have seen the work-in-progress sketch of him, though she hadn't dared to confirm those suspicions.

As she now turned to the page concerned, her eyes widened. On the blank page opposite was an unfamiliar script.

Even if you decide against it, I hope you'll show me the finished piece.

-Hollyrose-

A/N: Again, I can only really apologise for the long wait (University applications have kept me quite busy), but I hope that you enjoyed the chapter (if you're still reading, that is); finally we have some progress! Hopefully it'll get even more interesting from here...

If you're wandering about the pseudonyms:
Himura Tomoko - H and T from the beginning of the first and last syllables of Hinata's name
Umeda Haru - U and Ha from the first and last syllables of Uchiha

As usual, if you have any comments/constructive criticism etc. feel free to drop me a review. (I have been back and altered the mistakes I could pick up in the previous four chapters but if I've missed anything please let me know).

Until next time!