Chapter Text
Kiyoomi has a master list of things he loves and things he hates. “Volleyball" encompasses the entirety of his love list. The list of things he hates grows daily, but the current top of that list is “Barista."
It had not been Kiyoomi’s idea to work at a coffee shop or to even work at all. He was a full time student and rising star of the university’s volleyball team, why would he want to work in his free time?
Unfortunately, his parents had given an ultimatum. Get a job and learn customer service skills to fall back on in case volleyball didn't work out (laughable), or be cut off. So, begrudgingly, Kiyoomi had sought out a job and the only one that worked with his schedule was this coffee shop.
It was hell. Talking to people. Touching dirty money. Handling food and drinks. Being pleasant.
He hated every aspect and all it was doing was reinforcing his goal of going pro so he never had to deal with customer service again.
“Kiyo," his cousin said once, “these skills are transferrable. You'll have to act like you like people when you do signings and interviews!"
Kiyoomi had ignored Motoya. His mask would hide his expressions and he didn't have to talk to sign things. He'd be fine.
Regardless, he had a job, and he had to work.
Thursday night he was always paired with Iwaizumi, who was on the same volleyball team, avoided small talk, and respected Kiyoomi’s personal space. He could handle working with Iwaizumi. What he couldn’t handle was making the drinks. Thankfully, Iwaizumi understood and took that role while he manned the register.
This Thursday night was typical. There was a steady stream of customers and one hour left. He was only half-paying attention to the customers as they ordered, instead replaying old volleyball moments in his head and deciding what to work on next.
“Iced coffee with extra milk,” the customer in front of him droned and Kiyoomi wrote it down, waiting for the name. “For ‘birds aren’t real.”
Kiyoomi blinked, coming back to the present moment, staring blankly at the man in front of him. He looked to be about his age, probably another student at the university, and he had a crazy grin on his face. Another man stood close behind him, maybe his friend based on their proximity, and sent Kiyoomi an apologetic glance.
“Iced coffee with extra milk for ‘birds aren’t real,’” the original customer repeated, making a small gesture with his hands as if encouraging him to write.
Kiyoomi pulled the marker away from the cup. “Absolutely not,” he hissed. “I am not writing that on this cup.” Customers frequently tried to get away with stupid names, but this was taking it too far. Kiyoomi glared and the man met his gaze, not backing down.
The other man stepped forward, forcing their eye contact to break. Kiyoomi scanned him from top to bottom. Whereas his friend radiated mischief, this one radiated relaxing, calm vibes. Kiyoomi felt the tension in his shoulders ease, minutely, before giving in and writing the stupid line on the cup. He passed it along, eye twitching.
“Sorry for my friend, he can be a bit…” he trailed off, biting his lip as he thought. “Eccentric,” he finally landed on, laughing when the other man smiled almost proudly. “I’ll take a black coffee for Ennoshita, please,” he said, smiling gently. Kiyoomi appreciated the simple, straightforward order and name. Ennoshita paid by app, efficient. Kiyoomi approved. And the smile didn’t hurt. The guy looked good smiling.
Kiyoomi frowned behind his mask. Wait. The guy looked good smiling? Clearly he was losing it from overwork.
The two customers moved to the pick up line and Kiyoomi watched as Iwaizumi made the drink and struggled to get the customer to take it. Just like with him, the customer refused to back down, and Kiyoomi felt a surge of anger sour in the pit of his stomach. He suddenly wanted the man out of the cafe as soon as possible, and Iwaizumi was keeping him from leaving. “Just say the damn line and get it over with,” he growled, yanking his hat down in embarrassment.
The guy took the iced coffee and responded with an equally inane comment of, “they’re actually drones,” that made Kiyoomi want to scream.
He hated customer service. He hated Thursday nights.
Unfortunately, next Thursday came too soon. Kiyoomi hadn’t given the two men much thought in the week that had passed, too busy with school and volleyball, so when the bells chimed announcing their arrival, all of the feelings came back.
The jokester was up first and gave the same order, his eyes twinkling in that mischief Kiyoomi was beginning to loathe. “The name is, ‘I like your shoelaces.’” Kiyoomi felt a cold shiver run down his back. He knew this one. Stupid Motoya and being chronically online and making it Kiyoomi’s problem. But like hell was he going to play along.
“Pick a different name,” he growled. He was sure that even if the man couldn’t see his full expression, his displeasure was still clearly expressed. Unfortunately, he just laughed and shook his head. Kiyoomi tried to stare him down again, but Ennoshita stepped forward. Immediately, Kiyoomi felt his blood pressure start to go down.
“I’m sorry that my friend continues to be a bit of a nuisance,” Ennoshita chuckled. Kiyoomi let out a deep breath, while Ennoshita winced when his friend pushed him. “He’s really harmless. Can I get a black coffee, please? For Ennoshita.” The same order as last week, but the smile was much warmer. It lit his whole face and Kiyoomi felt the rest of his stress melt away. He may have even smiled, not that anyone could see. Then he remembered he was still at work and the stress came back.
They moved to the pick up line and Kiyoomi found himself staring intently at the street light outside of the coffee shop’s large windows. He did not like customers. He did not like people. Why was Ennoshita able to make him feel so relaxed? Why was he tempted to maybe talk to him and see what else might make him smile?
He was pulled out of his musing when he heard, “Thanks. I stole them from the president.”
Kiyoomi nearly choked, bringing his hand up to try to muffle the sound. Ennoshita needed better friends, and he was going to kill Motoya for making him understand the reference.
He got himself under control just as the pair left, with the annoying customer calling out that they’d see them next week. He saw Iwaizumi raise his hand in a wave while he himself rolled his eyes. “I’d rather not.” Except for Ennoshita, maybe. He could come alone.
A few weeks passed, his Thursday nights becoming an annoying new routine. They would arrive and the annoying one would give another stupid name that Kiyoomi had no choice but to write. Ennoshita stopped apologizing, but always gave a smile that made Kiyoomi melt, and, dammit, he was certain Iwaizumi was catching onto it. While he never looked forward to the inane order, he did find himself looking forward to that smile and moment of peace.
Regardless, he hated that he looked forward to them and added their visits to his ever growing list and this Thursday, he had reached his limit. There was a lull in orders that allowed Kiyoomi to start stressing about what that customer was going to say this time, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He saw them through the window and moved towards Iwaizumi, who stared at him in shock. “I’m making the drinks. You take their order,” he demanded, and shoved his coworker towards the register.
The two made their way to the counter while Kiyoomi thoroughly washed his hands. It was as he was drying them that the realization hit him and he felt his body stiffen. Whatever stupid name he gave, he’d have to call out. He tried not to listen as the trio discussed the potential of fake names, taking deep breaths in and out to make sure his anxiety was under control. He could just not say it, but Iwaizumi had tried that. Perhaps, if the customer forced the issue, Kiyoomi could just dump it out. Preferably on his head, but more than likely the counter. Though that would cause a mess he’d have to clean up and Ennoshita probably wouldn’t smile at him if he did.
Wait.
What did Ennoshita’s smile have to do with anything?
Thankfully, the customer finally dropped the game and gave an actual name. A name that Kiyoomi was never going to forget because he was never going to write one of his stupid jokes again. He quickly finished making the coffees–one with extra hate and one with extra care, but they didn’t need to know that. He slammed Suga’s down on the counter, just hard enough to make it slosh but not hard enough to spill, and gently placed Ennoshita’s on a napkin. “Coffees for Suga and Ennoshita,” he muttered. They both smiled at him, but only one made the corner of his lip twitch upwards before he spun on his heel and stomped back towards the register.
“I hate making drinks,” he grumbled.
A week later and Kiyoomi was still fuming. “Don’t ever let me volunteer to make drinks again,” he snarled when he saw Iwaizumi. Why had he even agreed to let him do it in the first place? He knew how much Kiyoomi hated making drinks.
“It was just two of them and they weren’t that bad,” Iwaizumi said as he tied his apron. “I don’t get why you’re working anyway. Aren’t you rich?”
Kiyoomi rolled his eyes in response. He wanted to snark back ‘I’m not rich, my parents are’ but Motoya had told him that that was a classic ‘rich kid response’ and, really, it wasn’t Iwaizumi’s business, anyway. But that didn’t stop him from fuming, and he bit back a growl every time the bells above the door rang, expecting the worst of the worst to show up. Or maybe it was a growl of disappointment because the one person he maybe sort of actually wanted to see wasn’t showing up. Did it matter? Kiyoomi was too grumpy to figure it out.
Ten minutes from closing, the customers had emptied out, and Kiyoomi hoped that would be it. He and Iwaizumi hadn’t said more than two words to each other the entire shift, which was just fine with him, but he was tired and ready to go back to his dorm.
Then the bells rang and he knew who was coming in before even looking. Kiyoomi sighed deeply, hoping they’d get this over with quickly, especially since he now knew the guy’s name and could overrule whatever he said.
Suga looked almost sheepish when he arrived at the counter and peeked at Iwaizumi, who was too busy to notice that they had come in. “Iced coffee with extra milk,” he started and then watched Kiyoomi expectantly. “I know you probably don’t want to, but just one last weird request, please. Could you make it for ‘Can I get the hot, buff barista’s phone number?’.”
Kiyoomi stared at him, dumbfounded. “That’s a lot to write on the cup,” he said slowly, and Suga shrugged.
“I guess so,” he agreed, but he looked at him earnestly. “Please?”
Kiyoomi should have said no. This guy had been torturing them for weeks, why should he help him? But then he met Ennoshita’s eye and saw that calming smile and felt his foul mood break. Besides, and he’d never admit it out loud, he was kind of curious what Iwaizumi would say. “Fine,” he grumbled and quickly scratched the question onto the cup.
Suga thanked him and moved to the pick up line.
“He’s either bold or stupid,” Kiyoomi commented to Ennoshita, going ahead and entering the order for a black coffee before he even spoke.
Ennoshita nodded, not quite meeting Kiyoomi’s eye. “He’s got more bravery than I do, at least,” he said, and then gave Kiyoomi a nod as he finished paying. “I’ll see you next week, um...” Ennoshita fidgeted, looking almost expectantly in his direction.
Kiyoomi thought for a moment before deciding to do something he'd never done with a customer before … though perhaps Ennoshita was not longer just a customer. “Sakusa,” he said quietly before turning to watch Iwaizumi, missing Ennoshita's relieved expression.
“Excuse me,” an annoying voice said behind him, trying to get his attention. Kiyoomi ignored her, willing Iwaizumi to make the drink faster. “Excuse me,” the woman said again, more insistent.
“In a minute,” Kiyoomi snapped at her, and kept his attention on the scene at the pick up counter. He saw Iwaizumi read the cup, saw him start to blush, and then…saw him put the cup down and walk away. That was it? Kiyoomi huffed, disgusted again. What a waste of time. He turned to the woman and growled, “What can I get you?”
The impatient woman was their last order, to Kiyoomi’s relief. He and Iwaizumi worked on their closing procedures in silence, but Kiyoomi finally decided he had to know. “After all of that, you just ignored him?”
Iwaizumi looked up at him from wiping down the counter and laughed. “Nah, I gave him my number on a napkin.”
Kiyoomi blinked at him. “You did? Why? He’s annoying.”
Iwaizumi kept chuckling and almost made a motion like he was going to give him a friendly pat on the back, a move he had seen him make with others on the court, but he stopped at the last second, to Kiyoomi’s relief. “I think he’s kind of charming.”
Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. “If you say so,” he said, unconvinced.
They finished closing and as they made it to the door, Iwaizumi stopped. “What about you?” he asked quietly.
Kiyoomi furrowed his brows in confusion. “What about me?”
Iwaizumi shook his head as he continued through the door, Kiyoomi slipping behind him after making sure it was locked. “I know Ennoshita makes you smile. Are you gonna give him your number?”
Now it was Kiyoomi’s turn to stop in his tracks as he stared at Iwaizumi as if he had grown a second head. “Absolutely not,” he insisted, but Iwaizumi merely hummed.
“Suga and I are going to go out after our shift tonight,” Iwaizumi told Kiyoomi the next Thursday, to which Kiyoomi nodded.
The shift passed slowly. Suga and Ennoshita did not come at their usual time and Kiyoomi definitely wasn’t watching the clock, wondering if maybe, just maybe, they’d come right before closing like they had the week before. Even though Suga and Iwaizumi had a date after the shift, did that mean they didn’t need a coffee? What about Ennoshita? Now that Iwaizumi and Suga were together, did that mean Ennoshita wouldn’t come either? Kiyoomi shook his head. He wasn’t going to think about it. Focus on the job. Focus on volleyball. Focus on school.
Three minutes to closing and the bells rang, signaling the arrival of more customers. Kiyoomi looked up, ready to tell off whoever was coming in so close to closing, but the words died in his throat. Suga and Ennoshita were walking over to them.
“No coffee for us tonight,” Suga said quickly, almost as if he anticipated Kiyoomi’s anger. “I’m just here to pick up Iwaizumi for our date.” He peeled away from Ennoshita, leaving the two of them alone.
Ennoshita was standing in front of him, again giving him one of those smiles that made everything feel okay, though Kiyoomi saw him playing almost nervously with his hands.
They stared at each other for a moment before Kiyoomi spoke. “Are you going on the date with them?”
Ennoshita blinked at him, smile dimming only slightly, before shaking his head. “No, I uh,” he turned away from him, scratching his head, before turning to meet Kiyoomi’s eye. “I wasn’t as bold as Suga last week.”
Kiyoomi stayed silent, waiting for Ennoshita to continue.
“I wanted to give you my number, too, but I chickened out in the end.” Ennoshita laughed, a little self-deprecatingly, before taking a breath to compose himself. “I know this is kind of last minute, and I’d understand if you said no because you strike me as the type of guy who likes to have a schedule, but would you be willing to go somewhere after you get off?”
Kiyoomi swallowed, and couldn’t help as his gaze drifted to Iwaizumi and Suga, standing way too close to each other by the pick up counter. Ennoshita followed his gaze and held up his hands. “Not necessarily with Iwaizumi and Suga! We can do our own thing. I just, thought, you probably got off at the same time as Iwaizumi, and there’s this new band playing at a club nearby that’s really good and–”
“I suppose,” Kiyoomi said, cutting him off, and Ennoshita gave him one of those smiles that made everything seem perfect.
Kiyoomi would have to add that smile to his ‘Things I Love’ list. Maybe.