Work Text:
Iwaizumi Hajime was confused.
Working at Seijou Coffee had never been the most eventful part-time job in the world. In fact, it was pretty much the most boring thing that required a level of skill and memorisation that one could do. He spent his days making coffee for two groups of people- exhausted university students, and people who took pictures of their drinks before they left the shop- and rarely, a third group that was almost as rare and mystical as unicorns: attractive guys. Due to their rarity, and the fact that Seijou Coffee wasn’t such a busy place that he was always working (but also wasn’t quiet enough that he could spend his time talking to his coworkers instead), his job was truly tedious.
Except today.
Because in the span of five hours (out of his six hour shift) he’d been given nine numbers and been asked on three dates. The weirdest thing, though? Despite having met exactly zero of the nine guys who had flirted with him today, each and every one of them had known his name. And that was ridiculous, because not only had Iwaizumi had never been popular enough to have so much interest in him, but them knowing his name was kind of creepy. It was such a sudden and suspicious influx in interest...
He couldn’t help thinking that Hanamaki Takahiro, the creampuff-loving baker and certified memelord in the back, had something to do with it, because it seemed like exactly the shit that he’d pull- asking a bunch of his friends to come up to Iwaizumi while he was working and ask him out on this particular day. Plus, he’d been smiling in a very sinister way in the back the entire day.
Then again, that was how Hanamaki usually looked. The guy always had some sort of sneaky plan up his sleeve to ruin Iwaizumi’s life.
And thus, he’d spent most of the day awkwardly accepting numbers and tentatively mumbling ‘I’ll text you back’ to the requests about going on dates, simply because he was both too polite to decline absolute strangers and getting paid to be nice. In five hours, he’d seen it all- tall, short, blond, brunet, black-haired, fat, skinny, dark, light, and more. The list went on. Every guy that had approached him today had been different in appearance, and none of them had been unattractive either.
He was reaching the end of his fifth hour, nearly time to pack up and go home and think about texting back all nine of those guys, silently holding his breath and hoping nobody else would come through those doors and give him their number (and wondering if he was conceited for expecting it, at this point), when the bell at the door jingled, signalling someone’s entrance.
Iwaizumi raised his head from the pitcher that he was cleaning, ready with the cheery greeting that all baristas at Seijou Coffee had to spew out whenever someone walked through that god damn door- that bell was Iwaizumi’s least favourite sound in the entire world, because of both the customer and the stupid greeting, which was nearly as bad as the god damn whiteboard in front which told you about today’s barista-
But the words died in his mouth. Because the guy that walked through the door- well, he was, in short, completely stunning. Stunning was the only word for him, because he was both handsome like a rugged male model and beautiful in the wave of disarming and boyish charm that seemed to emanate from.
The first thing Iwaizumi noticed was that he was tall. Even from far away, he could tell that the stranger was taller than he was, and as much as Iwaizumi complained about his height, he himself knew that he wasn’t short. His shoulders were quite broad, and Iwaizumi could see the lean muscle on his arms, revealed by his t-shirt- his t-shirt that was just slightly too short for him, which rode up just the littlest bit when he raised a hand to touch his hair and revealed an expanse of milk-white skin. His hair- it was dark chestnut, swept over to the left side of his forehead, and spiked along the sides and back. It looked like an absolute mess, but it undeniably worked incredibly well on him. His eyes were the same shade as his hair- a warm chocolate so alluring that Iwaizumi felt like he could drown in their depths, sparkling with humour and flirtatious charm. He carried himself with an air of undeniable confidence, to top it all off. He was so physically perfect, Iwaizumi was both weak at the knees and pondering whether his personality was garbage to compensate for his beauty- because surely, if there was a deity up in the sky, they would at least put one flaw in this seemingly perfect human being.
He realised, way too late, that he had been staring the entire time- for way too long to play it off as nothing. The newcomer was leaning on one forearms over the counter, the other one raised to cup one cheek with his palm- and he looking straight back into Iwaizumi’s eyes with his own chocolate ones, his full, rosy lips quirked up into a self-assured, smug, and obviously flirtatious smirk.
Iwaizumi cleared his throat and tried not to drop the pitcher that he was holding, instead placing it to the side and offering a small smile to the new customer. When he spoke, his voice was (luckily) mostly-normal-sounding, rather than squeaky or high or shaky or something else equally as embarrassing for him, and the words seemed to flow a little bit easier than they ever had before. Maybe because he actually meant them, this time? “Good day and welcome to Aoba Johsai Coffee Shop, sir. What can I get you today?” He asked, looking straight into the customer’s eyes and trying his best to keep his head above the chocolate sea.
The customer hummed for a moment, because he couldn’t get any more endearing, eyes lifting from Iwaizumi’s to scan the menu above his head. While he did that, Iwaizumi let his own eyes roam- look over the human buffet laid out in front of him. In particular, his toned arms. Iwaizumi went to the gym- he had his own muscles and knew what muscles looked like, and he’d never found them that attractive, but in that moment, they were the objects of his attention. Long arms, with light muscling, not ripped like Iwaizumi but just enough to show that this guy was no slacker when it came to working out. For a moment, he was tempted to ask if he did.
Once his eyes had drunk in and memorised the sight of those muscles, he let his eyes drift further- down the stranger’s torso, to the small sliver of skin revealed by his slightly-too-short shirt, and then to the thin line of his hips jutting out of his pants, and then to where those legs vanished beneath the counter.
Oops. The guy was saying something. When he lifted his eyes, he was looking straight into those chestnut ones once again- and the owner of them had a full blown smile on his face in place of the former smirk. He opened his mouth and asked something else, but the words didn’t really register in Iwaizumi’s brain, because he was too busy hoping that his jaw wasn’t dropped.
“Excuse me, could you please say that again? I didn’t quite hear you,” he managed to choke out through his closing throat, trying his damndest to keep eye contact. The stranger’s eyes were definitely pleasant, but for some reason, Iwaizumi also felt vaguely threatened by the way they stared into his. As if this guy on the other side of the counter was looking down at him, scrutinising him, wondering the easiest way to capture his prey. It was a strange feeling- Iwaizumi shook it off.
“I said, are you checking me out?” The world was truly unfair, because his voice was beautiful too. Light and gleeful, chiming with amusement. It had that same boyish feeling to it that his appearance did- the same disarming charm. Iwaizumi found himself wrapped up in it, to the point where he once again was barely listening-
Wait. What was that he said?
Iwaizumi was unable to stop a pink blush, although luckily, it was hard to see on his dark complexion. He only hoped that the attractive stranger hadn’t noticed. “That would be unprofessional of me,” he murmured to try and cover up his embarrassment in the most polite way possible. “I’m still waiting on your drink order.”
“Ah, but it wasn’t a no!” the customer chirped- yes, chirped, like he was a happy bird- and gave a wide smile which crinkled his narrowed eyes at the corners. “Tall vanilla latte, please.”
Ah, yay- a relatively simple order. Iwaizumi hadn’t found a thing to hate about his guy yet, which he was quite happy about. “Could I please have a name for the order?” he murmured with as much casualness as he could muster, trying to not make it obvious that he didn’t need a name for the order (he just wanted a name for the order).
The customer’s eyes darted away for but a moment, and then they came to stare right into his once again, his wide smile shrinking and turning back into a gentle smirk- but with less smugness and more gentility this time.
“Oikawa Tooru.”
Oikawa Tooru. Iwaizumi stated the price and backed up into the kitchen to make the drink. Oikawa Tooru. He took extra care to get the measurements just right this time. Oikawa Tooru. And then he made sure everything was mixed up nicely before bringing it out. Oikawa Tooru.
When he placed it on the counter, the customer- Oikawa Tooru- threw him yet another smile. “Tall vanilla latte for Oikawa Tooru,” he said, drawing out the name and relishing the feel of it on his tongue. “Enjoy.”
“Thank you!” Oikawa grabbed his coffee with one hand, and used the other to slide a piece of paper across the counter to Iwaizumi. He nodded to it as acknowledgement of its existence. “That’s for you, by the way. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the first one you’ve received today, though, Iwaizumi Hajime.” And then Oikawa winked. Actually winked at him.
Iwaizumi tried to ignore the way that his heart fluttered at the compliment and the way his name sounded coming out of Oikawa’s mouth, because he was the tenth stranger that day that knew Iwaizumi’s name and, yep, the reverse side of the paper had ten digits scrawled in pen. He wasn’t sure if he’d been expecting it- it fit with today’s trend and Oikawa’s flirty behaviour, but also, Oikawa was so attractive that it seemed ridiculous that somebody like Iwaizumi could ever be in possession of his number.
“No, it’s not the first one I’ve received today,” he grumbled, letting out a sigh. “You’re the tenth guy who’s given me his number and who’s known my name, despite being a complete stranger, in the last six hours of this stupid shift. I have literally no idea what’s going on. This has never happened before.”
Oikawa stared at him for a minute. And then, he burst into laughter. He even grabbed the counter with his hands, as if he was going to keel over and die without the added support, as the pitch of his laughter raised even higher. Iwaizumi’s mouth finally tilted down into it’s signature frown. Maybe there was one thing he disliked about Oikawa- laughter in the face of Iwaizumi’s disaster.
“Oh my God. Hold on- I just- I need a minute,” Oikawa managed to wheeze out between laughs, lowering one arm off of the counter to clutch at his stomach. After a couple of moments of laughter and Iwaizumi frowning, Oikawa raised his head and began to speak again, voice still coated with mirth and laughter, thick like honey. “Please tell me you haven’t spent your entire shift being asked out by guys out of absolutely nowhere and didn’t even think about where it was coming from?”
Iwaizumi crossed his arms and felt the furrow lines by his eyebrows come into use, as usual. “Of course I’ve been thinking about it! Who do you take me for?” he protested.
Oikawa didn’t say anything else. He simply placed his hands on either side of the small whiteboard on the counter- the one which told you about your barista for the day- and turned it around to face Iwaizumi.
TODAY’S BARISTA IS:
Named Iwaizumi Hajime
Hella gay
Hella single
Please give him your number and ask him out! He really needs to get some dick, so he’ll stop being so cranky all the time.
Iwaizumi’s best friend, creampuff-lover, baker, and esteemed memelord, Hanamaki Takahiro＼(≧▽≦)／
P.S. don’t tell him about my interference
P.P.S. seriously he’ll kill me don’t show this to him ( ´ д ` )
Iwaizumi let out a sigh. A long sigh, of pain, and suffering- a sigh perfected by months of working with fucking Hanamaki Takahiro, the worst person to exist on the earth, and at the same time, the best. All hail Hanamaki Takahiro, the worst human ever. “I’m going to kill him,” he muttered under his breath.
Iwaizumi turned to Oikawa, feeling sheepish on both his own and Hanamaki’s behalf, as well as extremely embarrassed, and very angry. The numbers that those guys had given him were all jokes- pity numbers. He felt disappointed about all of it, but even more about Oikawa. “I’m so sorry about that. You should take this back.” He dropped the paper and pushed it back towards Oikawa. “Have a nice day, sir,” he mumbled, trying to both not let his disappointment show and to stop himself from marching to the back and strangling Hanamaki until he begged for mercy.
“Wait!” Oikawa yelped as Iwaizumi turned away from him- which caused him to turn his head back. When he did, Oikawa was leaning over the counter, hand outstretched. In one movement, he grabbed Iwaizumi’s hand in his own and stretched it out towards him- then he unfurled Iwaizumi’s fingers, which he hadn’t even realised had been clenched into a fist, and placed the paper with his number on it in his palm. Then, he curled Iwaizumi’s fingers back over it with gentle movements of guidance. His hands lingered on Iwaizumi’s for a few moments too long, and when Iwaizumi looked up at him, he noticed Oikawa’s milk-white face was tinted with a pink blush.
“You probably think that those other nine guys were all just joking.” He pulled his hands away, and Iwaizumi instantly missed the cool touch of his long fingers. “But I’m not.” He gave a last smile to Iwaizumi, a smile many degrees shier than every single one before, before lifting his free hand into a symbol that vaguely resembled a phone.
Oikawa waved the symbol in front of his ear, mouthing a couple of words, and sent a final wink towards Iwaizumi as he tightened his hold on his coffee and left the shop to the jingling sound of the bell.
Iwaizumi watched Oikawa’s figure vanish into the crowd of people outside, and he slowly uncurled his fist to stare down at the ten digits in his hand, scrawled messily on a small piece of paper that looked like it had been ripped out of the corner of a larger sheet.
Call me.
He held onto it tightly as he stared out of the window, wishing that the sea of black hair was a lighter colour instead.
—
epilogue
“Ooh, someone got lucky. He was the hottest one yet.”
Iwaizumi jumped at the sound, but when he turned, he wasn’t surprised to see Hanamaki Takahiro giving him a signature shit-eating grin. He knew that Iwaizumi knew that he had been the one that set it up.
“Hanamaki?”
“Yes, Hajime, my dear friend and buddy and pal who I would die for and who would die for me in return?”
“I’m going to kill you.”