Chapter Text
Valentine's Day is one of the busiest, most profitable days of the year for Kyoutani, but he also kind of fucking hates it. His business is fairly small with so few employees he can count them off on one hand. He's also the only one that does flower deliveries, and on holidays like these when flowers are in high demand, he doesn't get more than a moment to rest around the non-stop flower delivery schedule. What's worse is he doesn't really get to see his boyfriend on days like these as he's gone before Yahaba can even wake up to prepare for work. After the day is over, the florist usually ends up passing out as soon as he gets back home. It's just so exhausting, he deserves the rest.
Kyoutani knows that today will fucking suck.
He rolls out of bed at 5 am anyway and goes downstairs to his flower shop to make sure every delivery is properly labeled and accounted for before looks over their extra flower stock (not a rose in sight). After that, it's time to walks his two dogs, showering once he's back. He cooks breakfast while Yahaba's cat does her best to be as in the way as possible and puts the extras away for when his boyfriend wakes up. He sets out a modest single red rose in a white vase, and then is finally ready to head out with a giant mug of coffee and a pre-packed bento to get him through the day.
God, delivering flowers is boring. Though, honestly, it's best if it's boring. The morning is usually quiet, but things get more interesting (and exhausting) towards the evening. Today is no exception. His first stop is Oikawa's office building to deliver an entire van load of flowers to whichever unfortunate bastard is tasked with decorating the floor Oikawa works from. After several less grueling deliveries and the lunch Yahaba had prepared for him, he delivers to a house where the wife answers the door in little more than a see-through robe and proceeds to insist on ‘tipping’ him, and he nopes the fuck out in record time. Another woman gets flowers from a secret admirer, and her boyfriend assumes that Kyoutani is the culprit. He luckily makes it out before the the idiot starts anything; he really doesn't need to lose time laying some self conscious asshole out.
The stop he makes at Hanamaki’s tattoo parlor is, thankfully, uneventful. He drops off the unusually ordinary bouquet of black roses with the pink-haired terror, gives Watari a nod, and dips out before Hanamaki can get into any of his standard theatrics. Then, it's Oikawa's workplace again to deliver the unnecessarily large bouquet Iwaizumi had ordered, tough it's more like half of Kyoutani's entire rose stock (he needs a fucking dolly for it, Jesus Christ). He had to special order all of the teal roses in order to make this blue and white monster. Oikawa just about shits his pants, he's so excited.
Yaku meets Kyoutani out by the van once he manages to make it back outside.
“I'm not sure this is a good idea,” he warns as he reaches into the passenger side of the delivery van. He pulls out in time to see Yaku roll his eyes. “Just know it's not my fault when your man child kills this innocent plant.”
Kyoutani hands off a fairly heavy pot where a single tiger lily has begun to grow.
“He's not always irresponsible.”
“Why a flower, though? Get him a fish.”
Yaku shakes his head as he adjusts the pot in his arms. “I'm not getting him a fish, I've been to the aquarium with him. He'd never stop watching it and probably die of malnourishment. Also, he'd get attached to a fish and probably get depressed if it accidentally died.”
Kyoutani likes Yaku, he's a really cool dude, but he doesn't understand his interest in men. Then again, Kyoutani's relationship with Yahaba also seems strange to many outsiders, so who is he to judge?
It's just really easy to judge Lev.
“Just make sure he puts it where it gets plenty of sun and makes sure not to over water.”
Yaku thanks him and the two go their separate ways. Kyoutani refills the van with the remaining flowers for the day and (after downing two Red Bulls and giving an unenthusiastic Maruyama a high five) sets off into Tokyo traffic once again.
There isn't much about the final stretch of the work day that stands out to him other than a delivery to a little old woman from her equally little and old husband. Apparently he had saved up his extra money for a whole month to get her something extra special for Valentine's Day. (Flowers aren't cheap.) She tips him with a little watercolor painting she had done of a duck. A bit odd, but very sweet of her.
Finally it's four thirty in the afternoon, but also time for the delivery he had been dreading the most. After making the longest drive of the day, Kyoutani pulls up in front of a tiny blue house thirty minutes out from the heart of the city. He takes a few minutes to steel himself before finally stepping out of the van and retrieving the final delivery; a colorful bouquet of pink and gold alstroemerias and baby's breath wrapped in a pink bow, as per the buyer's usual request. He takes his time walking up the narrow pathway to the front door, and hesitates before knocking, just like he always does. And, like always, the door is opened by a tired looking old man who smiles at him apologetically.
“Delivery for Oikawa-san,” Kyoutani recites like a broken record. “From your son.”
The man signs for the delivery before taking the bouquet, a familiar exchange that's been repeated many times by now.
“Thank you for coming out this far. You drive safe, Kyoutani-kun.”
“Thanks. I'll see you again in May.”
With that, their exchange is over and Kyoutani retreats back to his van. He should drive off, he knows he should, but just like always, every Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, and July eighteenth (a birthday), he waits and watches. Not five minutes later, right on time, a rather unsympathetic looking old woman shuffles out of a side door with the bouquet clutched carelessly in her shriveled fingers. She stops at the garbage can and turns her attention to him. With a look of absolute disgust, she slams the flowers into the garbage without breaking eye contact.
Kyoutani doesn't start the van back up until Oikawa's mother is back in her house. The thirty minute drive back home is always the longest part of these days.
It's almost six when he's finally pulling into the alley next to the shop. Inside, he walks right past Kiyoko as she cleans up for the night and up the narrow steps to his apartment. His dogs greet him happily, still panting from the walk they probably got back from not too long ago.
“I'm home,” he calls out, doing his best to kick his shoes off around his pitbull and Australian Shepard, who are doing their best to trip him.
“Welcome home!”
Yahaba pops his head out of the kitchen to smile at him; he's so cute with his hair a mess and his stupid, duck patterned apron on. Kyoutani pulls him in for a kiss, hard and desperate, but lets him go quickly. He slides the duck painting into his boyfriend's hands.
“A gift from an old lady.”
“Oh, this is actually pretty good…”
He's walking off before Yahaba's finished talking. Once in the bedroom, he clumsily strips down to his boxers before plopping down on his bed.
“No, no, no.” Yahaba rushes in after him. The painting has been set aside and replaced with a plate of dumplings. “I know you haven't eaten since lunch.”
Reluctantly, Kyoutani rolls onto his back and opens his mouth. Yahaba makes an annoyed noise, but feeds him anyway. Minimum fuss, maximum pampering. It's a nice way to end a hectic day.
His eyes drift closed before Yahaba is done feeding him. The brunette sets the now empty plate on the bedside table and lays down next him. Kyoutani pulls him closer, holding him tight as he kisses lazily into his boyfriend's soft hair. He smells like apples and honey.
“So, how was your day?”
Kyoutani hums in contentment. “Shitty, but better now.”
He cracks his eyes open to see Yahaba grinning at him.
“Cheesy.” The brunette shifts a bit until he's more comfortable. After a moment his smile turns devious. “Hey, do you want me to…” He makes a rather lewd blowjob gesture with his hand and mouth.
With a chuckle the florist shakes his head. He cups Yahaba's face in his hand and looks into his sandy eyes; his eyes seem so much brighter lately. They're always beautiful.
“Just...lay with me.”
Yahaba leans in to kiss him, smiling against his lips. The stress of the day melts away, and with Yahaba laying half across his chest and peppering gentle kisses along his neck and jawline, Kyoutani is able to drift off to sleep.