Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A few days later, Daichi found himself tugging open the door to Karasuno Cafe once again. For the croissant, he told himself. For the croissant.

(Though, he was extraordinarily cautious when stepping in - he’d rather avoid being taken down by another flying barista, thank you very much.)

This time around, he was gratified to find that Nishinoya was not in the mood for performing inaccurate reenactments of the Titanic, praise the lord. He was still clearly in the cafe though, what with his larger-than-his-tiny-self presence - to be fair, it also helped that he was teetering perilously on a chair, muttering what was no doubt colourful curses under his breath as he strained over a Christmas tree that looked entirely too large to belong in the cafe.

Daichi glanced around his cozy surroundings, and -- there Suga was, standing behind the counter. Apparently he’d been spotted first though, as the other had waved cheerily at him, beckoning him over.

Suga lightly patted a nearby employee - another short male (what is with this establishment and their tiny baristas, anyways) with what looked like horrifyingly unmanageable hair - to presumably serve the next customer as the door tinkled merrily behind Daichi. “Daichi!” Suga called (he remembered his name, Daichi noted, and then focused intensely on quelling the shrill internal cheering) offering one of his what seemed to be perpetual smiles. “You came back!”

Daichi found himself grinning back, ‘cause god, Suga’s smile was nothing if not infectious. “I did say I would,” he conceded, gesturing to the display case to his left where baked goods were lined up in neat little racks in all their pristine glory. “Any chance for that croissant?”

At that, Suga winced. He glanced glumly at the case. “Ahh, if I knew you were coming I would’ve saved you one. We had a couple left, but,” he cocked his head at the tiny barista who had apparently given up on his endeavours - whatever they were - and was now draped miserably over his chair, “Noya ate the last ones, I’m sorry.”

Apparently Noya caught the end of that - in a show of surprisingly good hearing, considering how loud he was typically - as he called back, defensive, “They were calling to me, Suga-san!”

“Just like the tree, Noya,” was Suga’s response. “Don’t think I don’t see you slacking off.”

“What is he doing?” Daichi said apprehensively, eyeing the barista. He was now glaring bitterly down at something in his hand - a small black furry thing, as far Daichi could see - as if the thing had personally insulted his family and he was now genuinely considering throwing it out a window in retaliation.

“Putting the tree topper up - or trying, anyways,” he answered amusedly, leaning on the counter to peer over at Noya. “He offered to get it up when I couldn’t, bless his soul.”

“That - that black thing he’s got?” Oops, that might’ve sounded a little accusatory. Daichi backpedaled, “I mean, I’m sure it’s a great tree topper, it’s just --”

“A little unconventional?” Suga saved him, his eyes crinkling as the tips of his lips turned upwards. He peered up at Daichi through the thick veil of his lashes - unfair, Daichi thought. “It’s meant to be a crow, you know. And - I can show you later - it has this little santa hat attached to it, too,” he claimed, a proud note to his tone.

Daichi blinked. A crow? Oh wait - Karasuno, of course. “Where did you even find a tree topper like that?”

The other man shrugged. “Eh --”

Red-Head Barista popped up at Suga’s elbow - clearly just done serving his customer as he came sliding in, wiping his hands on his apron - mimicking Suga’s casual lean on the counter. “Sugawara-san made it!” he piped up, and in true Karasuno style, offered a wide grin at Daichi.

“Hinata,” Suga scolded lightly, nudging the barista gently with his elbow. “He didn’t need to know that.”

Daichi raised a brow. He was actually mildly impressed - a crow with a santa hat for a tree topper; innovative - but that was definitely some dedication to the holidays, to make an actual decoration for a tree at your job instead of - you know - buying a star and calling it a day like Daichi (and probably 98% of the population) would’ve done.

(Essentially, he was coming to find that either a) Suga has some sort of fanatic dedication to the holidays, or b) Suga was basically a grandma with a compulsive craft-making spirit. Interesting revelations, all around.)

“Hello, businessman-san,” came Nishinoya’s voice. Daichi glanced behind him to see the barista lugging his chair behind him.

He tugged self-consciously at the edges of his freshly pressed dress shirt. “It’s Daichi.”

“Hello, Daichi-san,” Nishinoya amended - with a completely unrepentant grin that kind of told Daichi that maybe, just maybe, Noya hadn’t needed the reminder at all - before turning to address Suga. “Sorry manager, I gave up.”

“Welcome back, Noya,” Suga greeted. Daichi was a little disappointed to find that he had straightened up now, leaning away from Daichi to let Noya behind the counter. “Your determination was rather short-lived.”

“And your tree is rather massive.” Nishinoya moaned, sinking down to clutch dramatically at the edge of his seat-turned-step-stool. “Where’s Asahi when you need him?”

“Buying more supplies so he can replace the croissants that you ate.”

“Terrible,” Nishinoya grumbled as way of response. “Absolutely terrible. Who decided that putting up the tree would be a good idea when the short brigade is on shift?”

Daichi had to turn away to hide his snort.

Immediately, the red-haired barista began whining, “Noya-saaan --” and Suga sniffed, mock offended.

“Speak for yourself,” Suga groused, “I’m not that short.”

Daichi cleared his throat, cutting in (“Hate to tell you,” Nishinoya was saying, “but you’re the next shortest after me and Hinata, Suga-san.”). He gestured at the ornament that Nishinoya still had clutched in his hand, the bright red of its hat peeking out between his fingers. “You uh, want me to try?”

Suga gave him an obvious once-over even as Nishinoya shoved the thing into Daichi’s hands as if it had suddenly burned him. “Appreciated, Daichi, but you’re not that much taller.”

“Okay,” Suga said two minutes and a toy crow successfully perched on the tree later, “I stand corrected.”

Daichi patted his clothes down - wouldn’t do to get his dress shirt rumpled before he went in for work; otherwise, he’d never hear the end of it from Oikawa. (He’d once went to work with the back of his shirt untucked; Daichi was pretty sure his coworker just about had an aneurysm, ‘cause for the love of everything that is good, Dai-chan, at least try to look presentable. Then Kuroo and Bokuto had done nothing but laugh at him.)

He offered a mild grin as he rolled his sleeves down primly. “Don’t underestimate the wall of the few centimeters,” he said smugly. Daichi glanced back at the tree that stood innocently by the side. To be fair, it wasn’t terribly surprising that the other three had trouble with the tree - it was kind of - well, gigantic. It loomed all ominous-like over the cafe, with its bright circling lights and blots of black and white (more crows along with miniature coffee cups as decorative pieces in the place of the traditional baubles; endearing, definitely endearing, but mildly concerning in the same breath).

Noya snorted. “Keep him around, Suga-san. He’s helpful.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” There it was - Suga’s boyish grin, back in all its overwhelming glory. “I’ve still got plenty of tinsel to put up.”

Daichi raised a brow. Actually, he took that back - this was beginning to border closer to ‘concerning’ rather than ‘endearing’. “I’m almost beginning to feel like you spend more time decorating than actually making food here.”

“Gotta attract our customers somehow,” Suga laughed. “Plus, it got you here, didn’t it? What was it, we’re ‘entertaining’?”

“That, and the promise of croissants,” he teased.

“We’re still lacking in that department,” a gesture at the conspicuous lacking in croissant in the display case, “but could I perhaps interest you in one of our holiday drinks? I make a mean eggnog latte.”

Somehow, along the way, it had completely slipped from Daichi’s mind that right, he was in a cafe to buy a coffee. “Right, drinks. Yes.” Daichi glanced at the soft glow of his phone - 9:48 AM, he was definitely running late. “Sure, let’s go with that.” He shot Suga a grin. “I’ll be back for the croissant though, just you wait.”

When Daichi looked down at his pockets, patting his jacket down in search of his wallet, he caught what was distinctly a gagging sound accompanied by a ‘giving me diabetes’ and a hissed, ‘Noya, stop.’ He glanced back up, suspicious, but they’d apparently rearranged themselves into passable normalcy, Noya hustling off to join Hinata in serving (notably, for the first time since Daichi had first entered this establishment, incredible).

Suga beamed at him innocently.

(Definitely suspicious, but Daichi quickly forgot about it when the tip of Suga’s tongue peeked out from between his lips, his face the embodiment of deep concentration as he freehanded something onto his cup.

In closely related news, ‘endearing’ begin to take a decisive victory over ‘concerning’ as Suga rather sheepishly handed him his cup, a mildly deflated crow with a santa hat drawn in black, looping sharpie.)