Chapter Text
“Onigiri Miya, what can I get ya?” Osamu talks behind the glass of his stall, bending down to reach for something you’re unsure of, but perceptive enough to know when there’s a buying customer.
Second nature from setting up his business, you’d guess.
“I’d like to take the handsome man working behind the counter.”
Osamu pops up immediately, dropping the box of disposable plastic bags back onto the shelf that he got it to stand up straight and look his customer in the eye. When his eyesight catches yours though, his expression turns from curious to smug.
“Well, well, hello,” he says, leaning over the counter to kiss your cheek. You lean into his lips, making sure to savour the quick peck. “I wasn’t expectin’ you for,” he checks his watch and looks back at you, “‘nother hour or so. I’m waitin’ for Acchan to come cover the evenin’ shift.”
You stare at Osamu while he converses with you, admiring his uniform and his hat which, in your opinion, is highly unfair of how attractive it makes him look. Cool and confident, your entrepreneur boyfriend makes everything look good.
“Well, I got off work early and decided to give you a surprise visit,” you grin. “Oh! And wanted to ask if you wanted any desserts for tonight? You said you would cook but I definitely have nothing to bring…” you trail off, scanning your eyes for the nearest bakery or department store for a cake shop.
“Ah, why don’t you pick? Though, it wouldn’t hurt if you could also throw in some of those Hokkaido milk puddin’s, I know you end up cravin’ one of those after dessert.” He pokes his tongue out at you, attempting to reach over the counter and poke at your cheek.
You laugh and try to lightly slap his arm, which is increasingly hard to do over a stall. He ducks just in time, slipping out of a small opening and taking a long stride towards you. “C’mere,” he whines, wrapping you immediately in a big hug. You squint out a smile and find his lips with yours, kissing with much gusto.
“Ah! Boss, you’re distracting the customers!” Acchan laughs, walking closer towards you guys.
You don’t break apart, but Osamu releases you slowly and keeps his grip around your shoulders. “Whoops!” you exclaim, “sorry Acchan,” you shyly turn towards Osamu, but Acchan waves it off.
“Don’t worry, I was just messin’ with ya,” the college student says, spinning his satchel around to the front of his hips. He slips around you guys and back through the small opening. “Just in time Acchan, can you start as soon as possible?” Osamu takes off his cap, reaching up to shake his hair out of its shape. “I’ve got a lovely lady waitin’ for me to finish up.”
“Yeah, no worries! Just wanna put my stuff out back and get my cap out.”
Osamu smiles, “thank you.” He spins around makes his way back to the stall. “Wait here,” he calls out, “I’ll just grab my backpack.”
After doing his handover, he grabs your hand and you two busy yourselves into the nearest department store dessert section. If there was one thing you loved about living in Japan, it was the underground food halls, filled with any possible food you could think off. Ingredient or ready-made, it was already there at the touch of your fingertips.
Osamu was grateful for this, in fact, he liked being with you for this reason. Well, of many reasons, anyway. He enjoyed how effortless it was to spend time with you -- something as simple as going to a grocery store gave you both immense joy, and it was something he told himself he wouldn’t take for granted.
Before Osamu had met you, he was a little rough around the edges; a little reserved and very serious. Though, Asumu says - multiple times - that it was your relationship that softened him out. Osamu and yourself had talked many times about your previous relationships, so you both knew what you were both getting into. But no other relationship had felt like this. It was genuinely… fun.
And the sex was fantastic . Well, at least you thought so.
Having Osamu as a partner meant that you got to be the taste tester of his many, many experiments. And what he liked is that you were always willing. You never got annoyed; you were patient, attentive and genuinely supportive of his business.
He changed you too. Having someone like Osamu; serious, structured and goal-orientated made you see the potential that you had in yourself.
With having a couple years of being together held down, you were both in sync with one another, having less and less arguments and more time to work on other aspects of your relationship.
“Alright,” Osamu drawls while squeezing your hand, “let’s get some of ‘em French cream puffs from that store you like then let’s head to my apartment.”
“Beard Papa…” you state in a daze, already salivating over the thought of biting into one of the freshly made cream puffs.
“See this is why I like ya,” Osamu states, “Ya love food just as much as I do.”
With a variety box of twelve freshly made cream puffs, some Hokkaido milk puddings and pork curry buns (which you both did not intend to get but had given each other the eyes ), you walked hand in hand back to his place with every intention of eating every single thing you bought.
You had managed to talk about everything and nothing - asking Osamu about his day, asking if there were any interesting customers or things he had run out of. Once you both made it to the station the attention turned to you, and your day wasn’t much more eventful, other than having to run back to your place to bring some spare clothes. You still lived with your friend from college, however the lease was due to expire in about three months and you had to start thinking about where you were going to live, and if you wanted a place closer to work.
Osamu lived relatively close to the station, a few streets away, tucked into a small apartment hidden from the sights and sounds of the main road. You found yourself throughout the years spending more and more time there, confidently determining a fifty-fifty split between his place and yours. Though it is nice at times to have space apart, it was also nice to be together. Like, always.
“We’re home,” Osamu calls out into the hallway, before ditching his shoes onto the door mat. You do the same, carefully sitting on the step that elevates into his home to undo the laces of your boots. He takes your shopping and your bags and takes them further into the apartment, chucking your bag somewhere in his room and immediately tucking into the pork buns.
Osamu’s home was enough for two people. It could cater five on a good night, if you were to squish everyone around a small table or kotatsu to eat and drink in the living room, but since he lived alone he figured there wasn’t a need for a bigger space. He had his industrial kitchen back near the stall, which meant he never needed to take work home with him. His home was his comfort for him and his thoughts alone - and of course, yourself.
Osamu was the quieter twin, with Atsumu ten times more lively. Though, if needed, Atsumu could and would absolutely bring out the fire in Osamu. He was more tamed now, sure, but those two needn’t share a roof anymore. It was certainly easier with Atsumu playing for the MSBY Black Jackals and having his own accommodation.
You plop yourself onto the couch and reach your hands out. “Aaaah, I forgot to get my pork bun!”
Osamu, with his pork bun already halfway eaten, grabs yours and hands it to you without a word.
“Thank you! I’m digging in!”
Osamu watches as you unwrap your bun, careful not to tear the paper even though you were going to discard it after you had eaten anyway. He drinks the whole picture in: you, on his couch, after a long day of work, in the small of his living room.
In two big bites he finishes his pork bun, and silently walks over to his kitchen to dispose of his wrappings as you munch away mindlessly.
His steps are quiet as he approaches you, his dark eyes too intense for four in the afternoon, but it’s now or never he supposes.
Despite his couch being a two-seater, it’s enough for himself to splay out -- and he does just that, with the exception of his head in your lap. The action, though it makes you happy, catches you off guard. You watch as he tucks his feet into the small space, trying to squeeze himself into your space with minimal disruption to your meal.
“Oomf - O… samu?” He snuggles his cheek into the skin of your thighs, his warmth only separated by the thin fabric of your skirt. His fingers trace patterns on your thigh, mindlessly circling away.
“Mmm,” he hums, clearly content with his new cushion, “You can keep eatin’, jus’ wanted to be close to ya.”
His sudden clinginess comes out at the most random times, and you can’t help but chuckle when it happens. At the beginning of your relationship you thought he was quite unemotional, considering he always wore such an emotionless expression on your first few dates. But every so often he would do something to surprise you. Whether it be a hand across your shoulders, or a small tug on your shirt with a small pout, you knew you couldn’t ever refuse Osamu and his child-like demands. Especially once you started being exclusive. It was never the same after that, you started to see past his nonchalant expressions and could tell his mood.
Though, him hiding his face was new for you.
“I can’t see your face,” you hum, a little conflicted on whether to finish your pork bun or stroke his cheek.
“Hey, have ya thought about where yer gon’ live once you move out?” Osamu’s heart, not nearly susceptible to things like nervousness and anxiousness starts to beat at a faster rate that he would like though he knows it’s for good reason.
“Hm?” you question, “not really. Maybe somewhere closer to work? Like a couple of stations away? Though I would like to live near the main street too so I can visit your stall… and maybe so I can still have access to good food… Oh should I live alone? I guess maybe I’ll need to -”
“Ya wanna live with me?” Osamu cuts you off.
“What?”
“It’s a small apartment, but you know where it is. It’s got a room, a decent bathroom n’ kitchen. There’s not a lot of space for ya to plop some extra stuff in but I got a queen bed already an’ I think it would fit ya in quite nicely, ya know.” He hasn’t stopped drawing the circles on your thighs, so you let him spill his heart until he stops rambling. “Yer here all the time anyway. And I don’t really like it when you leave because when ya sit on the couch I got an extra pillow. And when the light shines through from the balcony it makes yer hair shiny or whatever. Jus’ looks like ya belong here.”
“Okay.”
His finger stops tracing and he whips his body around so fast you drop your pork bun in surprise.
“Ahhh, Osamu!” you yelp, but instead he takes your hands and clasps his larger ones around yours. You look down at the man who’s about to be your live in boyfriend and can’t help but have your heart swell to two sizes bigger with the way his large brown eyes peer up at you.
“Yes? Yeah?” he asks, earning another giggle from you.
“Yes!”
“I can’t believe it… Not only will you be livin' here… But I can prove once again that my life is so much better than Atsumu’s.”
“Oh my god.”
“It’s true. He doesn’t have a pretty lady to share a home with.”
“You have different goals and varying levels of individual success,” you remind him, but he cuts you off with his own lips before you can go off lecturing him.
He lifts his arms up, using his core strength to wrap his hands around your cheeks and planting a solid kiss on your lips, interrupting your meal. “But only I have someone who can bring out the best in me,” he dishes, retreating back to his relaxed form.
“Atsumu would argue that he’s got plenty of spikers available for that,” You tease, going in for more bites of your bun.
Osamu hums, listening to you ramble more about plans for moving in. And for the second time, other than starting Onigiri Miya, he thinks, completely throwing himself into the unknown has favoured him.