Chapter Text
For Daichi Sawamura, a decided marabout and recluse, (according to Bokuto, bullshitter extraordinaire) one-on-one gatherings were uncomfortable affairs which were usually avoided in favor of spending his days flipping through the various Home and Garden channels with a family sized bag of sour cream and onion chips.
It is because of this fact that Daichi surmises that his current situation, sitting on a sidewalk eating lollies with a (particularly attractive) stranger, is quite odd, albeit unusually comforting.
Suga is talkative, he discovers, but not annoyingly so. His voice is gentle and soft, much like his wisps of hair and skin of porcelain, crafted with the lightest of hands and smoothest of fingers. His questions are curious, and his interest in flowers is quickly made known through his positive comments about the shop.
His favourite flowers are white lilies, but he cannot plant to save his life, and his thumbs are the very opposite of green. He also enjoys sunflowers and dandelions, but strongly believes that magnolias are the most unsightly things the world has to offer, next to carnations.
"Do you like working at the shop?"
Daichi snorts.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Flowers aren't my thing. Allergies, amongst other things."
"You could always try pills."
"It would make sense if I were around flowers all the time, and I'm not going to be much longer, I'm not bound to the shop anymore once the semester starts."
There is a brief silence.
"Pity," Suga mumbles.
"Pardon?"
"It's a pity, Daichi," He sighs, drumming his heels against the road, "Because having you working at the shop gives me more of a reason to come."
Daichi flushes and eats his popsicle.
//
They begin the walk back to the shop a few hours later, soon after Daichi becomes aware of the hour, and slaps a hand to his forehead, before standing and offering a hand to help Suga from the pavement.
His hands were warm and sticky.
The evening is significantly cooler than the afternoon before it, streaks of lavender and grey and purple blanketing over the two boys who are too preoccupied with conversation to consider the time, or their recent acquaintanceship.
"So volleyball, huh?"
"Yep, captain in my third year," Daichi laughs, "I was pretty committed, too."
"And you've got the thighs to prove it,"
"Suga!"
Chuckles are scattered, but soon interrupted, as Daichi's phone vibrates in his back pocket. He fumbles for it, slipping it in front of his face in a swift motion, bracing himself for the caller ID that would warn of his grandfather's imminent lecture about responsibility.
Except, the caller ID is not of his grandfather, but of Bokuto Koutarou, and the impressive amount of chins that he kept stored under his jaw.
Daichi quickly shuts off his phone.
His phone buzzes again almost seconds later.
"So, are you gonna answer, or?"
"I'd rather not."
Suga casts him a sideway glance, and he swiftly flips the switch to silent, before shoving the phone into his pocket once more.
//
"Donuts."
"Yes! In my grandfather's car!"
Suga raises an eyebrow.
"Did you not hear the part about how they were doing donuts in the elementary school parking lot in my grandfather's car, or should I just retell the story?"
"And then what happened?"
"It crashed!"
"Ah," Suga clicks his fingers, "There it is."
"Yes! There it is! And, since I'm partly responsible for giving both Kuroo and Bokuto the keys in the first place, and because I don't have enough money for repairs -
"You are, after all, a poor university student on a weekly ramen budget,"
" - I'm working at the shop until the semester begins again! As compensation for their nonsense!"
"Why would you give them the keys?"
"They said they were going to buy chips,"
"You, sir, seem to have an issue with trusting the right people,"
"It's hardly an issue."
"Sounds like one to me,"
"Well, I trust you, don't I?"
"Touché, Captain,"