Chapter Text
Yamato Nikaido is a man of little ambition.
Being able to come home from his boring, one-note office job with the knowledge that a cold beer was waiting for him was just enough to get him through his days of constant mundanity.
That doesn’t mean he doesn't get lonely. Far from it, there's only so much a cleaning robot and cheap beer can do before a man starts wishing he had someone to come home to at the end of a particularly gruelling day.
Though being the type of person he is, he didn't see that changing any time soon. He'd tried going to mixers with his co-workers in the past, though, in the end, they ended up being too much trouble than they were worth. Taking care of an overly intoxicated date seemed to be the common theme. Besides, he would rather not spend any more time with his co-workers than he already has to. Being alone was something he was used to, something he found comfort in. That definitely wasn't going to change, of that he was certain
Everything was as it should be as he opens the door to his one bedroom apartment. The gentle whirr of Musashi’s motor can be heard from the other room. He murmurs a quiet “I’m home” to no one but himself as he half-heartedly kicks off his shoes and makes his way towards the living room.
Yamato lets out a satisfied hum as he glances around the room, noticing the place looks relatively cleaner than it had this morning. “Nice job Musashi! The place looks great,” He gives Musashi a couple pats on the head before lifting the cleaning robot up and placing it back into it’s charging slot. “Rest up.”
Making one sided conversation with his robotic roommate was something he made a habit of quickly when he first moved in, and why wouldn’t he? The little guy was a great listener. Yamato had no issues unloading onto a machine that didn't have the ability to talk back or send judging glances his way. Although, he has a feeling that if Musashi could talk, he would have plenty to say back.
Yamato pulls the tab on his beer can as he falls into the couch, the sharp hiss of carbonation filling the silence of the room for just a second before fading out to nothing but the steady sound of Yamato’s heartbeat. Four large swigs of the amber liquid later and Yamato can feel tiredness sting at the back of his eyes, slowly, he allows his head to fall back and lids to close tightly shut.
*PING*
[00:09]Nagi: YAMATO!
Just ignore it Yamato, he'll give up eventually. He tries to convince himself, shoving his phone underneath a pillow to dull the noise.
[00:13]Nagi: OH… please don't ignore me
[00:13]Nagi: would you prefer i come over instead?
[00:13]Nagi: :-)))))
Three short chirps of his phone later causes Yamato to give in, he pulls the device out from under him and types out a quick message. He was a weak willed man, after all.
[00:15]Yamato: Onii-san was trying to rest.
[00:15]Yamato: What's up, Nagi?
[00:17]Nagi: i have been informed about a piece of limited edition magi cocona merchandise going on sale tomorrow and i would like your help in acquiring her!
Yamato sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. This definitely isn't how he thought his long awaited day off was going to go.
[00:19]Yamato: That doesn't sound like a two person job to me.
[00:20]Nagi: don't underestimate the hardships of waiting in line for limited merchandise!
[00:20]Nagi: i am assigning you with the important role of moral support!
[00:21]Yamato: Sure sounds a lot like you're just dragging me along for the sake of it.
[00:23]Nagi: ( ´_ゝ｀)
[00:23]Nagi: hnnn
[00:24]Nagi: i will treat you to dinner
[00:25]Yamato: When and where are we meeting?
[00:25]Nagi: excellent!
[00:26]Nagi: please be at the station by 6am
[00:26]Nagi: any later and we risk missing this once in a lifetime chance!
[00:27]Nagi: good night yamato :-)
Chucking his phone to the side, Yamato groans into the couch cushion, cursing his inability to say no to the troublesome blond he calls his friend.
-
“I think I'm going to die.”
The time on Yamato's watch read 2:31 in the afternoon. Eight hours. Eight whole hours Yamato had been here, moving from line after line, store after store, with the mid-morning sun beating down on him. He could feel his feet already beginning to blister and the start of a headache burning at the back of his skull. He looks at Nagi, spring still in his steps, eyes gleaming and wonders if it's the 3 year age difference at work or Nagi is just from another planet entirely, right now he's leaning towards the latter.
“Actually, scratch that, I must already be dead. I'm in hell right now, right?! I'm absolutely in hell!”
“Yamato, please get a hold of yourself,” Nagi offers Yamato an apologetic look, unable to do much else with the abundance of merchandise stacked into his arms. Yamato was almost- almost willing to forgive the taller man, until his eyes completely gloss over Yamato, instead scanning a store window behind him until they land on a particularly large body pillow, a blindingly pink girl lay on the front in an attack pose. No way. Not a chance. Yamato knows that look, he's not going to spend another second in one of these headache inducing stores.
He grabs Nagi's wrist, and begins to pull him in the complete opposite direction, far away from any more distractions. He decides to ignoring the unintelligible cries of protest from behind him. He wasn't entirely sure where he was going- somewhere that sells alcohol preferably, he definitely needed it right about now.
Some time later Yamato is hit with the sweet scent of… something- chocolate and… oranges, maybe? He stops abruptly. Leaving Nagi with little time to react, plowing straight into Yamato's back, earning him a surprised yelp as stacked boxes threaten to fall from his arms with a wobble.
“Hm, What's the matter? Please warn me next time you plan on stopping in the middle of the street.”
“Ah… Nothing, it's just- that smell...” Yamato cranes his neck upwards, eyes squinting to observe a sign that reads ‘Fonte Chocolat.’ The cursive is elaborate and adorned with golden accents, sitting elegantly above an off-white background. Although, the building itself was relatively simple, with window sills housing numerous potted plants of varying sizes and colours; below, a board near the door displays the days specials written in chalk. Yamato’s eyes are immediately drawn to the illustrations beside the tidy handwriting; the first being one of a cat, sporting a polka dot blue necktie, and the other, a white rabbit holding a comically large whisk. Yamato chuckles to himself, trying to picture the type of person that would spend their time creating such cute illustrations every morning.
Nagi perks up upon realising where the two have stopped. “OH! Yamato would you like to go inside? I am very familiar with this particular patisserie. The banana bread here is especially exquisite.”
“Hm… Sure, why not? Onii-san could use some sugar after the day I've just had.”
“OK!” Nagi offers a small bow, and holds open the door with his free hand. Gentlemanly as always. “After you,”
A soft chime rings out as the two enter, alerting the man at the counter to his new customers.
“Afternoon, welcome to Fonte Chocol- Oh! Nagi it's you!” peach hair emerges from behind the counter, followed by a pair of short legs striding towards the two men.
“Mitsuki!” Yamato watches the smaller man from the corner of his eye, seemingly pretty used to the direct contact from Nagi, not even batting an eye as he wraps an arm around him and plants a kiss on both cheeks. “My friend! How I've missed you.”
Mitsuki chuckles, releasing himself from Nagi's grip, and places a hand on his hip. “What are you talking about? We saw each other just the other day!”
“Even a moment away from you and your wonderful patisserie is a moment too long.” As if on cue, Nagi wipes a small tear forming from the corner of his eye, earning an exasperated sigh from Mitsuki.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Beginning to feel like a bit of a third wheel in this conversation, Yamato takes a moment to study the man chatting idly in front of him. At first glance, someone could easily mistake the man for a high schooler, his small frame and round eyes do him no favours. But upon further inspection Yamato notices the surprisingly sharp angles of his jaw and a hint of well-defined muscle peeking out from his sleeves, rolled all the way up to his elbow. He eyes up the pastel blue apron hung around his neck, speckled with cake batter and powdered sugar. He chuckles to himself, noticing that the other half of the ingredients must have missed the apron entirely and ended up on his shirt and face, with rosy cheeks dusted with flour and what looks to be icing smudged on the tip of his freckled nose.
“And who’s this? A friend?” As if to snap him out of his daze; orange eyes meet green. Yamato breaks eye contact almost immediately, trying- and failing to hide the fact that he definitely hadn't just been staring at Mitsuki for God knows how long.
“This is Yamato,” Nagi gestures proudly to Yamato, as if showing off some rare and valuable piece of art instead of what he actually is, a tired old man with glasses. “My dear friend and partner in crime as we scour Japan for the most sought-after Cocona merchandise!”
“Don't lump me in with the likes of you, I'm only here to mooch off that huge wallet of yours.”
“Oh? But Yamato, just the other day you were telling me how lonely you have been without my company, was that all a lie?” The expression on Nagi's face says that he's hurt. Yamato knows better than that, but the sad look on that pretty bastards face makes him concede nonetheless.
“Haha… Alright, you got me.” Yamato rubs the back of his neck. “But Nagi, please stop embarrassing me in front of your friend, there's only so much shame an old man can take in one day.”
“Speaking of, you didn't introduce me- Mitsuki is it?” Yamato feigns ignorance, the name already committed to memory.
“Izumi Mitsuki,” he reaches out, offering a hand to shake paired with a blindingly bright smile, a smile Yamato has seen so many times already in only the short amount of time he's been here. “I'm running the place while my parents are away.”
There's a glint in Yamato’s eye, and against his better judgement decides to tease the man, curious to see his reaction. “Aren't you a little young to be running a store? School hasn't ended yet, it’s not good to skip.”
The smile vanishes almost instantly, replaced with a harsh scowl, nose bunching up in anger. Yamato couldn't help but think he looks good like this; though that smile suits him much better.
“Huh?! We've only just met and you're already trying to pick a fight? I could take you, you know!”
“Sorry, sorry- just teasing. These bad boys are just for show,” Yamato flexes to exaggerate his point, bunching the sleeve of his shirt up a little to reveal more skin. “they don't actually pack much of a punch. Please spare me.”
“My friends, please don't fight!” Nagi interjects, placing a hand on each of the two's shoulders, trying his best to diffuse the situation before the bakery turns into a wrestling ring. “Yamato, Mitsuki makes the best cakes in all of Japan! No... The world!” To exaggerate his point, Nagi stretches his arms out as wide as he can, almost knocking Yamato out in the process.
“Oh, is that so?”
“Back in my home country, I have tasted countless desserts, yet nothing can compare to Mitsuki's, every bite is like a little taste of heaven!”
“Oi Nagi! You're exaggerating…”
Despite his down turned lips and furrowed brows, Yamato notices Mitsuki's face has turned a whole shade redder from the sudden praise. Cute.
“If that's the case, then I think I'll get something. It's not every day you get the opportunity to try the best cakes in the world, after all.” Yamato turns his eyes down to the display case in front of him. Mitsuki's wide-eyed expression going unnoticed as he studies the almost overwhelming variety of cakes and pastries in front of him.
“Got anything that goes well with beer?”
Mitsuki chuckles slightly at the question, and hums in thought, placing a finger to his temple.
Snapping his fingers, Mitsuki reaches underneath the counter, pulling out a glass dome with slices of something dusted with a generous amount of sugar inside.
“Pie?” Yamato questions.
“Yep! Blueberry pie, only the best,” Mitsuki takes out one of the larger pieces; Yamato notices and places it into a simple white box, sealing it with a slim, red ribbon. “Trust me, you'll love it!”
With a wink and some parting words from Mitsuki. Yamato leaves that day with 400 yen less in his wallet and the inability to get the sweet scent of oranges and chocolate out of his mind.
-
“Hey, Nagi...” Yamato muses between bites of okonomiyaki. “Why haven't you ever introduced us before? Mitsuki, I mean.”
Nagi doesn't answer for an uncomfortable amount of time, searching for something in Yamato’s eyes. He must find what he’s looking for because the growing smirk on Nagi's face sends a shiver down Yamato's entire body, making him regret ever opening his damn mouth.
“This is unusual… Has Cupid finally penetrated that icy-cold heart with his arrow? What an occasion!”
"Wh-wha-?" Is the only thing he manages to choke out before Nagi cuts him off.
“No need to worry Yamato, I am no stranger to romance; whether a man or a woman, love will always prevail!”
“Shut it, you're so noisy!”
-
The next time Yamato visits, it's a day later; ass hurting from sitting on those office chairs that may as well just be made out of planks of wood, mind numb from crunching numbers and organising files. and yet all he can think about is the taste of blueberry pie, the smell of oranges and that tuft of peach hair.
He finds himself making these short, yet fulfilling visits an easy habit to fall into.
This time when he visits, it's a couple days after his last, he doesn't want to seem like some weird stalker, after all.
Walking into the bakery, he notices Mitsuki's hair is messier than usual, parts seem to stick out in odd places while the rest is covered in flower. He ignores the urge to run a hand through his hair as he walks closer.
“Yamato-san!" Mitsuki says with a smile, no hint of surprise in his voice. "Back again? You must have a pretty big sweet tooth, this is your fourth visit this week!”
Yamato shrugs. “Not really.”
Mitsuki’s eyebrow raises, doubtful.
“Ah- I mean yeah. I guess. I don't usually, but your cakes are pretty delicious, you know? Ah! Of course you know, but it doesn't hurt to hear it once in a while, right? Haa…” Yamato releases a sharp exhale, cringing at the fact he spoke a mile a minute and said nothing of importance, did Mitsuki even catch any of that? God, he hopes not.
Good one, Yamato. Real smooth.
Yamato chooses to ignore the snicker that escapes Mitsuki's upturned lips and instead focuses his attention on the brightly coloured cakes layed out uniformly in front of him. “Is this one new? I don't remember seeing this one the last time I was here.”
“Yeah,” Mitsuki’s smirk fades, seemingly bothered by the matcha green cake below him. “It's just a test run though, I just can't seem to get the recipe right.”
Yamato leans in, inspecting it closely. He’s eaten enough of Mitsuki's cakes by now to know that it's impossible for Mitsuki to make his baking taste anything but delicious.
“Looks good to me.”
Mitsuki's face perks up, seemingly encouraged by the comment.
“Then here,” He pulls the cake from under the counter, slicing a decently sized portion and placing it in a familiar white box. “On the house.”
“You sure?”
“Yep! You can give me your opinion the next time you visit," Mitsuki winks, there's a playful edge to his voice. “I’m counting on you, Mr. Sweet Tooth.”
"Yeah," heat rises to his cheeks at the, quite frankly, embarrassing nickname. But when Mitsuki says it, it doesn't seem so bad. "Next time."
As he leaves the store, cake in hand and blush creeping further through his cheeks, he thinks next time couldn't come soon enough.