Chapter Text
“Somehow, one fundraiser is going to wreck our lives irreparably,” Iwaizumi pronounced grumpily.
“Oh, just drink your coffee Iwa-chan; before you get one cup into your system you’re a mean old grump.”
“Well, you married the mean old grump so who’s the bigger fool?”
Oikawa rolled his eyes good-naturedly, always a tad too cheerful in the mornings. He was running his hands through Akaashi’s hair as the man in question reclined in his lap, eyes closed. Was he asleep? No one really knew. No one wanted to risk waking him up, since Akaashi got less sleep than the rest of them put together.
Except maybe Kenma. Kenma always seemed to be up late.
“What has you concerned, Iwaizumi?” Suga asked softly. It was an interesting morning, filled with far more stillness than usual. There were only five professors in the lounge this morning: Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Suga, Daichi, and Akaashi.
“Kyoutani and Yahaba.”
Daichi snorted, before raising a finger to his lips, seemingly shushing himself.
“Don’t they always have you a little concerned, Papa-bear?”
Iwaizumi’s clear look of disgust made it difficult for the remaining three teachers to muffle their snickers. “Pot calling the kettle black, Sawamura,” Iwaizumi rebutted.
“Them teaching classes together could go strangely well, or incredibly wrong,” Iwaizumi continued.
“Oh, don’t go worrying on me now, Hajime,” Oikawa murmured softly, not even attempting to disguise the sheer contentment in his eyes. Seeing Oikawa like this never failed to put a smile on Iwaizumi’s face, which didn’t waver even at the muffled “whipped!” Daichi coughed out into his elbow. “We still have at least a half hour before any of our concerns can touch us.”
Suga inclined his head toward Oikawa in agreement, burrowing further into Daichi’s chest. Akaashi let out a sleepy mumble, and all four professors couldn’t help their indulgent smiles.
Yes, mornings like this were a collective favorite.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yahaba could clearly state that he’d never hated a morning quite like this one (including one of the times during his undergrad when he’d tumbled down the stairs after three all-nighters in a row).
This morning was threatening to ruin him. Why? Because it was absolutely freaking perfect.
He’d woken up feeling refreshed rather than exhausted, his toast was perfect, and though he generally couldn’t (read: never) flip his omelet properly it happened today.
His orange juice had absolutely no pulp in it, and his food had that amazing texture combination that comes with a perfect omelet and perfect toast. So, everything inside his house was perfect, including the air-conditioning.
It just got worse.
The sky was a brilliant blue, with beautiful puffy white clouds. It was comfortably warm, with a cool breeze providing wonderful respite at the exact moment when it became slightly too warm. Yahaba glared angrily at the trees dancing in the wind, but the only response he received was the pleasant rustling of the leaves.
If the campus environment was picturesque, nothing prepared him for the sight that would greet him when he entered the lounge to put away his lunch. Sunlight bathed the room in brightness, while some of the professors laughed quietly in that intimate manner that suggested: “We are so happy, they should put us in after section of a migraine relief commercial.” Even Iwaizumi-san looked less angry than normal, and Akaashi was sleeping peacefully?
Yahaba was ready to scream.
To clarify, it wasn’t like Yahaba was a masochist. He didn’t hate good days nor did he enjoy bad days. He just figured that people get a limited supply of perfect days in their lifetime, and wasting one on a day like today was frustrating, to say the least.
“Ah, Yahaba-kun!” Oikawa-san exclaimed jovially, yet somehow not quite raising his voice. He probably would have bounded over and wrapped Yahaba in a tight hug had Akaashi not been inadvertently immobilizing him.
“Are you ready for the week?” Daichi-san asked.
“Hahaha, I totally am! Why would you even ask?” Yahaba responded quickly, his grip on his lunch bag tightening reflexively. Daichi’s smile froze as he nodded uncomfortably, completely unsatisfied with the response but clearly unsure of how he should proceed.
“I just came in here to stash my lunch, I have a class in a couple minutes,” Yahaba said, filling the uncomfortable silence with soft (ish) words.
By the time Yahaba turned around from the fridge, he caught the last couple seconds of what seemed to be a violent nonverbal conversation between the 4 conscious professors. There was lots of pointing and waving and at one point Suga-san had his middle finger pointed directly at Oikawa-san so that could not be good.
Yahaba cleared his throat softly, bringing the frantic communications to an end. Time to face the music. He bowed shortly, before speaking: “I promise all of you that this week will go smoothly. No worries need to be maintained, Iwaizumi-san. Kyoutani-san and I are both capable professors who will go through this exercise with just enough enjoyment for the students that satisfies the necessity.”
Iwaizumi-san, Suga-san, and Daichi-san relaxed slightly, but of course Yahaba could not win them all. Oikawa-san’s eyes turned cool and calculating, as he seemed to appraise Yahaba. Yahaba knew Oikawa-san well enough that he could practically see his walls going up as the man in question went into his strategy mode.
It was terrifying enough when it had happened in class before a test or project, not to mention the couple times Yahaba had shared a volleyball court with him. Now, it set his nerves blatantly on edge.
Then Oikawa-san was delicately lifting Akaashi’s head before standing, resettling Akaashi on the couch. “Can I walk you to your class, Yahaba-kun?” Oikawa-san asked, an unsettlingly charming smile plastered on his face. Yahaba flicked his eyes over to Iwaizumi-san, who shrugged, before producing a hesitant nod.
“Perfect!” Oikawa squealed, before threading an arm through Yahaba’s. Yahaba barely had time to make ‘save me’ eyes at Suga-san before he was yanked through the open door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So, what exactly is making you nervous about teaching for a week with Kyoken-chan?”
Yahaba let the question sink in for a couple seconds, before scraping a couple of reasons off the top of his head to respond with. Oikawa-san would absolutely know if he was lying, but he probably wouldn’t be able to figure out if Yahaba wasn’t telling the whole truth.
In theory.
“Well, first of all, I know nothing about military history and he knows nothing about quantum mechanics or thermodynamics.”
“Yes, but that’ll be the fun part! You’ll get to learn something new, students will get to see their favorite professors suffering endlessly with the same material! It will be such a cute experience! Plus, you’re in each other’s 101s. You could sleep through those classes!” Oikawa-san singsonged.
“I suppose,” Yahaba intoned, noncommittal as could be. He hoped he’d satisfied Oikawa-san’s curiosity, but hope had never once come through for him.
“There has to be something else worrying you other than the difference between colonel, lieutenant, and lieutenant colonel.”
“How can you even name the positions? You teach astrophysics!”
“Yes, but I’m married to a history geek.”
Yahaba just went with a reason that was closer to the truth, unable to stall or run out the clock since Oikawa-san seemed to be taking him on a scenic route to his lecture hall. The fact that he’d only had a few minutes was a blatant lie that every professor in the room had probably seen through immediately.
“We hate each other. Like, so much. We’re usually barely able to be in the same room without arguing. What if we can’t spend a week together without somehow killing everyone within a fifty-foot radius, including ourselves?”
“Oh, Yahaba-kun. Even when you used to TA for me all those years ago-”
“-It was literally just a couple years ago-”
“-you always used to maintain a certain composure in the position of a teacher.”
Wait, was this an actual Helpful Oikawa-san Moment™? Yahaba had experienced one two weeks ago during the construction of a lesson plan, so he figured he wouldn’t get another one for at least another week.
“While you may never really hit the apex of potential in teaching that is my professorial capabilities, I assure you that your ability to teach wouldn’t be hindered by the presence of Kyoken-chan.”
It actually was a Helpful Oikawa-san Moment™, but with the healthy dose of self-complimenting that Oikawa-san managed to add into most ordinary conversations.
“You’ll be able to separate your personal feelings for Kyoken-chan and your ability to teach.”
Yahaba let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Thanks, Oikawa-san,” he said in a slightly stunned tone of voice.
“You don’t have to say it like that.”
Yahaba let out a soft laugh, before realizing they’d been loitering outside his lecture hall for a couple minutes now. He reciprocated a wave and a smile to Oikawa before steeling himself and walking inside his classroom.
Little did he know that both Oikawa’s wave and smile were directed at Kyoutani, who was (for some reason or another) sitting in a darkened corner of the hall with a folder open on his lap.
Yahaba didn’t know this because Yahaba didn’t actually notice Kyoutani when he walked into his own classroom. He was so focused on finding Kyoutani in the sea of students entering the room that he didn’t consider the idea that Kyoutani was already inside.
Tunnel-vision was screwing with him on his worst perfect day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So, as you all may be aware, this week is going to be slightly different than normal. Do not misunderstand me; the material you learn this week will absolutely be tested, but since you all so generously donated to support campus extracurriculars, I’ve rearranged the schedule so that testing can be pushed to accommodate whatever might happen over the course of this week.”
Yahaba paused, hyperaware of the slight trembling in his hands.
“There will be no cohesive schedule for the week, as planning is in progress, but I guarantee you will want to show up for class.”
His students seemed happy, pretty excited. Many were letting out sighs of relief at getting a slow week for the first time this semester. Yahaba took a deep breath, ready to face the elephant in the room (or more like the elephant who wasn’t in the room).
“Ironically enough, the week’s plans should’ve started today with Kyoutani-san sitting in on our lesson on the First Law of Thermodynamics, but seeing as he isn’t present-”
“-of course I am,” a gravelly voice interjected from the corner.
Yahaba shrieked, before accidentally backhanding his metal water bottle off of his desk. The metal made thunderous noise against the tile floor, before rolling to a stop.
Yahaba’s hands were clapped over his mouth. His students (several of whom had also screamed) stared at him. He stared back at them. Kyoutani walked forward out of the corner where people could see him.
It was very silent.
“Kyoutani-san? May I have a word?” Yahaba asked very softly. Kyoutani nodded, following Yahaba out the door. The two stood in the hallway in awkward silence for a couple seconds before Yahaba erupted.
“Why were you just sitting in a dark corner!”
“Well, why were the lights off?”
“We were going to go over a PowerPoint!”
“I really thought you would have seen me!”
“Well, I didn’t!”
Yahaba took a deep shuddering breath, trying to avoid Kyoutani’s glare.
“Are we going to be able to do this?” Yahaba asked.
“Probably not,” Kyoutani grumbled.
“Splendid. Try to keep up with me, would you?” Yahaba pulled the door open, trying to ignore the responding anger rolling off of Kyoutani in waves.
“While I know none of you could have left because I was right outside the door, I thank all of you for not crawling through the ventilation shaft to escape. Time to make you all wish you had.”
Yahaba paused for the soft laughs spreading through the room. Then he locked eyes with Kyoutani, refusing to show how off-balance he was. This was his class, his course.
“Are you ready for the First Law of Thermodynamics?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To Kyoutani’s credit, he didn’t express any confusion or apprehension at being bombarded with science concepts after years of history lessons. Yahaba tiredly added an extra scream to his daily quota, not bothering to dignify Kyoutani’s lack of reaction with one of his own.
An hour passed with surprising swiftness, Kyoutani even asking a relevant question at one point (when Kyoutani’s hand raised Yahaba added a scream to his mental tally) and his students were being surprisingly manageable today.
Yahaba clicked off the projector, finally flipping the light switch as most of his students squinted in the sudden brightness. He pulled out a large stack of papers, their project reports from last week.
“Haru-kun, do you mind helping me pass these back?” Yahaba asked, a note of exhaustion seeping into his voice. He probably should have had a cup of coffee this morning; regardless of how well he might have slept, talking for an hour tires anyone out.
Before his student could respond, Yahaba felt the stack of papers being yanked out of his hand by Kyoutani, who gruffly said, “I’ll help.” Yahaba watched in astonishment as Kyoutani quietly asked students for their names, shuffling through the stack to find their reports. Once in a while, Kyoutani offered a quiet compliment, or encouragement.
Yahaba began to notice Kyoutani pointing something out on a lot of the reports, his mouth seeming to twitch out of its permanent scowl.
“What?” he asked, exasperation evident after the behavior continued.
Kyoutani straightened, looking off to the side before muttering, “Your doodles are nice.”
Yahaba bit down on his lip, feeling his cheeks flush (in anger? rage? perhaps embarrassment?) taking a deep breath to prevent himself from doing something. His muscles screamed at him to do something, but he didn’t know whether it was to smile or tackle the man looking staunchly away from him.
His doodles were nice, and made grading less abhorrent overall. He added smiley-faces, cartoon suns, storm clouds with lightning, clowns, anything he could use to put a slight smile on his students’ faces. He’d love to take all credit for it, but when he’d had Oikawa-san as a supervisor he’d talk constantly about how to make students love their major, it was the responsibility of a professor to try to add to their happiness, in small (and big) ways. His preferred small way of helping out his students was doodling while grading. His detested large way of helping his students smile was the situation he was trapped in now.
Though he couldn’t deny that Kyoutani’s barely-here presence in his room was already a novelty for his students. His softly-uttered compliments seemed to leave students beaming, with some of his female students blushing violently.
Yahaba thanked every god that his water bottle was made of metal. His grip had tightened to the point of absolutely crushing a plastic bottle. He resignedly added another scream to his daily quota.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So, how many?”
“Fourteen,” Yahaba responded miserably, stabbing at his lunch. Akaashi barely reacted, choosing to nod and turn the page in his book.
“That’s a lot less than I thought you’d be at,” Akaashi finally commented after a stretch of silence. “You do hate each other.”
“Yeah, well. We’re being mature or something.”
Akaashi scoffed, and Yahaba resumed picking at his lunch, his appetite nonexistent.
“So, are you gonna get in a couple of your screams during your lunch break? I have a pillow if you’d like to take advantage of it.”
“If by pillow you’re referring to Oikawa-san, I’ll pass.”
Akaashi cracked a grin, his eyes straying from the page to look Yahaba in the eye.
“I was, actually. Why would I need a pillow? I’m fueled by insomnia and insecurities.”
Yahaba huffed out a laugh, Akaashi’s fatalistic humor never failing to lift his spirits.
“You know, if Bokuto-san heard you, he’d stage another intervention where we all have to go around the circle and tell you what we like about you.”
Akaashi rolled his eyes, and Yahaba pretended not to notice the flushed cheeks and indulgent smile. God, at least he wouldn’t ever completely miss a potential relationship staring him in the face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yahaba wasn’t necessarily looking forward to Kyoutani’s afternoon military history class. First of all, history classes were boring. If he had thought they were interesting, Iwaizumi-san would be his mentor rather than Oikawa-san (which would probably be incredibly helpful, but it’s too late for that).
As if Yahaba’s train of thought had conjured him, Iwaizumi-san walked into the lecture hall and smiled, walking over to where Yahaba was sitting.
“How was your morning class? Oikawa was fussing about it.”
“It went as well as it could have, I believe,” Yahaba responded diplomatically.
“Yeah, yeah, cut the shit. You didn’t notice Kyoutani in the room, and once he said something you screamed for a solid minute. Then you guys had some sort of argument outside of the classroom.”
“How the fridge-”
Iwaizumi just gestured to his phone. “Campus twitter was exploding.”
“So let me get this straight: after literally years of not checking the campus twitter, which led to you and your husband being unaware that the entire student population wanted you to date, leading to the most massive clusterfuck of a situation I’ve ever seen, you’ve chosen to finally pay attention to the campus twitter today, just to spite me.”
Yahaba had gotten increasingly loud during his tirade, and by the time he stopped yelling, most of the students in the class were staring at him.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Would you like to take a seat, Yahaba?” Iwaizumi responded, his infinite patience and composure comforting as Yahaba felt the flames of embarrassment licking at him. Luckily, Kyoutani wasn’t here yet (unless he was, again).
“So, why are you here Iwaizumi-san?” Yahaba asked, changing the subject.
“Well, I supervise Kyoutani’s classes every once in a while. Technically, I was supposed to supervise his class on Friday but Oikawa convinced me to come in today and prevent anything from, well, happening.”
Yahaba felt a faint smile tug at his lips as Iwaizumi-san kept talking. Everyone always figured Oikawa-san was the clingy one in their relationship with how tsundere Iwaizumi-san was when they were together. But Iwaizumi-san didn’t seem to be able to go two sentences without somehow incorporating ‘Oikawa’ or ‘Shittykawa’. It was nauseating.
No, it was cute. And Yahaba, he really wanted that with someone someday.
The door swung open loudly, cutting off Yahaba’s train of thought.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone,” Kyoutani announced gruffly. He looked up from the stack of papers in his arms and locked eyes with Yahaba imperiously. “Enough of a disclaimer for you?”
The room erupted in giggles, clearly informed on the situation through the damn campus twitter. Yahaba watched Iwaizumi-san bite his lip to swallow his amusement, and now Yahaba was fuming. However, he couldn’t take this lying down.
“A wonderful disclaimer to be sure. Please be sure to incorporate it into your daily lifestyle, Kyou-kun,” Yahaba responded, heaping on saccharine sweetness and completing it with a disgusting nickname. Kyoutani’s eyes narrowed, and Yahaba could practically feel the growl building up in his throat.
“Maybe just start the lecture, Kyoutani,” Iwaizumi interjected, eyeing the seated students (many of whom had their phones out) with concern.
Yahaba watched Kyoutani take a deep breath, and waited for him to load slides, turn down the lights, write something on the board, anything.
“1618,” Kyoutani began, licking his lips. “Europe.”
Yahaba turned to look at Iwaizumi sharply, a little confused. Iwaizumi had a smirk playing at his lips, clearly aware of something Yahaba didn’t know.
“Aidless lectures. Popular with the students, but obviously difficult.” Iwaizumi-san trailed off for a second, before his eyes went wide with understanding.
“He’s showing off, huh?” Iwaizumi-san murmured to himself. Yahaba went red, biting his lip. If he was sure of one thing, it was that it would be a snowy day in hell before Kyoutani would show off for him.
Then Yahaba returned his attention to Kyoutani, and watched him transform.
Kyoutani’s shoulders dropped, his spine straightening as he continued to speak. Yahaba felt awkward blinking, felt like he was losing something precious. Kyoutani’s voice evened out, gruff tone vanishing as he talked about the innovations in warfare during the Thirty Years’ War.
About ten minutes in, Kyoutani began slowly walking around the room as he spoke, using calm hand gestures and clearly gaining confidence in himself. He cracked a small joke and Yahaba found himself smiling before his consciousness caught up to him.
The time passed by in a blur, Yahaba barely moving the whole time, his eyes glued to Kyoutani. When Kyoutani formally introduced him to the class, Yahaba just waved awkwardly unsure of mixing with these students when he was so thoroughly thrown by Kyoutani.
“You’re looking at him like he’s a whole new person, Yahaba,” Iwaizumi-san whispered near the end of class.
Yahaba just shrugged helplessly, his distress painted clearly over his face.
“Breathe, Yahaba-kun. He’s gonna come down from his pedestal in a couple minutes and insult you to your face. Then all will be right in your world again.”
“He’s just...why didn’t we ever know he was-” Yahaba cut himself off, gesturing violently at the man in front of him.
Iwaizumi-san stared at him for an uncomfortable period of time before his eyes glowed in unfortunate understanding.
“Wait, do you-”
“-Absolutely not!” Yahaba practically shouted, face unbearably red.
“All it took was for you to listen to him lecture once- ”
“Shut up, Iwaizumi-san!” Yahaba yelled in distress.
Kyoutani turned to look sharply at Yahaba, his outburst clearly unanticipated. Yahaba waited for whatever rude hand gesture or statement Kyoutani was going to direct at him in front of all of his students-
“Oi, Yahaba. Are you okay?”
Yahaba sat there, stunned into silence. He literally just asked if you were okay, Yahaba reasoned nonverbally, It wasn’t emotional sensitivity. It was just him not being a dick, you get that right?
“I-I have to go.”
Kyoutani cocked his head to the side, adorably confused. Adorably confused?! Yahaba, you’re clearly having a stroke.
“I’m having a stroke.”
Kyoutani’s eyes widened as Iwaizumi-san barked out a laugh (entirely unhelpful). Most of the students were videotaping this entire exchange.
“Are we still on for later?” Kyoutani asked, his confusion evident in his voice.
Yahaba emitted a high-pitched noise, throwing his hands up to cover his mouth. He nodded twice, before fleeing out the door. The moment the door was shut behind him, Yahaba sank to his knees.
“Perfect day? My fucking ass,” he groaned aloud.
“We can still hear you!” Iwaizumi-san’s voice rang out from the room.
Yahaba banged his head against the wall, before escaping to his office to hide under a pile of paperwork.
This week was going to be awful.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So, let me get this straight. You like him now?”
Yahaba groaned, his hand itching to throw something at Akaashi, who seemed way too amused by this turn of events.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“You’re attracted to him though?” Kenma voices, buried under a blanket.
The three of them were huddled in Yahaba’s office, Yahaba still hiding under his desk after the series of events that had transpired. He’d called Akaashi and Kenma to come sit with him and drown his sorrows in milkshakes (oh, he’d ordered milkshakes). The story of the whole day had flowed out after a certain point, and Yahaba was now regretting having told them anything (and these were the nice ones out of his friends).
“I’m not attracted to him. I think.”
“Okay, how good of a professor could he possibly be for you to hate him in the morning and be head over heels for him now?”
“It wasn’t his professorial capacity, exactly,” Yahaba tried to explain.
“Ah-ha! So you are head over heels for him!” Akaashi pounced, Kenma snorting softly.
“Sometimes I wonder if you ever graduated the second grade,” Yahaba complained halfheartedly.
Kenma put aside his DS, shifting in the blankets to lean forward towards Yahaba.
“Explain.”
Yahaba took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts into neat rows and columns.
“It’s not anything like you might be thinking. It’s just that, everything I thought I knew for sure about him went out the window. It was like, seeing your 4th grade teacher in the grocery store-but in a good way? Like, he was just so different , and so he fell out of the box I’ve kept him in in my head and-and know I keep trying to force him back in, but it won’t-”
Yahaba cut himself off, his rambling and worries cresting as he tried his damnedest to control his breathing.
“Yahaba. That’s not the worst thing. Breathe. You’ll be working with him closely throughout the week right?” Akaashi asked. Yahaba nodded.
“You’ll learn more about him. Then, you can label the box correctly, and he’ll fit right back in, safe and sound.”
Yahaba nodded, using his straw to draw circles in his chocolate milkshake.
“Oi, Yahaba!” Kyoutani’s gruff voice called from the doorway. Yahaba jumped at the sound, hitting his head on the top of the desk. He crawled out without grace, rubbing at the top of his head grumpily.
“What do you want, Kyou-kun,” he asked angrily, using the hated nickname. Kyoutani growled before snapping in response: “Don’t call me that.” Yahaba stuck his tongue out, apparently reverting to his grade school self.
Kyoutani’s eyes narrowed. “Next time you decide to throw a fit in my classroom, give me some heads up so I don’t have to subject my students to it, Yahaba.”
“Oh, fuck a chainsaw.”
“Well, look at that,” Akaashi interjected. “You’re all back to normal. So maybe now, both of you can go work on curriculums. Anywhere except here, because I value peace and quiet.”
Yahaba grabbed his milkshake off the ground before reaching for his satchel.
“Let’s go to the library, Kyou-kun, and leave Akaashi and Kenma here for their beloved ‘peace and quiet ’.”
Yahaba could feel Kyoutani’s glare burning through his back but he refused to turn around, striding with purpose out of the office area. Just as the two were leaving, Yahaba heard a faint “Hey, hey, hey!” from the direction of his office.
“So much for Akaashi’s peace and quiet,” Kyoutani remarked quietly.
“Oh, it’s Bokuto-san. I doubt Akaashi will mind,” Yahaba responded absently.
Kyoutani cocked his head to the side, clearly confused.
“Oh, you’re so much more dense than I gave you credit for, Kyou-kun!” Yahaba announced, delighted. Kyoutani grumbled the rest of the way to the library.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yahaba yawned for the third time in as many minutes, struggling to keep his eyes open. The curriculum on the screen in front of him phased in and out of blurriness.
“How can four days worth of curriculum be so much work?”
Kyoutani snorted softly as Yahaba reached over to turn up the jazz playing in the background. The two had started the evening arguing vociferously over each song choice, until the librarian had walked over and shushed them so violently Yahaba could still kind of hear it. Then, they argued more quietly over the music, until both of them tired to the point where they traded off choices.
Kyoutani was apparently into jazz.
The two of them sat at a large oak table in a secluded corner of the library. The fireplace next to them crackled, giving off comfortable warmth to combat the chill emanating from the windows. Yahaba shivered, wondering where the warmth from that morning had gone. Kyoutani wordlessly shoved a thick blazer towards him. Yahaba rationalized that he was both too tired and too cold to argue before wrapping it around himself gratefully.
“So, tomorrow.”
Kyoutani looked up at Yahaba, before capping his fountain pen and angling fully towards him.
“Tomorrow.”
“We need to teach our material together,” Yahaba elaborated.
“It’ll probably be a massive trainwreck,” Kyoutani offered.
Yahaba rolled his eyes, though a smirk was playing at his lips. “You have all the reading?”
“Yep. You have yours?”
“Absolutely. A thrilling tale of WWI,” Yahaba responded sarcastically.
“Hey! WWI is absolutely interesting, and if anyone should be complaining it’s me!”
Yahaba raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Oh, really?”
Kyoutani’s expression morphed into one of serious distaste.
“You have me learning phase charts.”
Yahaba couldn’t help it; he started giggling softly, and he watched Kyoutani’s frown disappear until he was wearing a small indulgent smile. Yahaba blushed and looked away, and then so did Kyoutani. The two sat in slightly awkward silence before Yahaba cleared his throat:
“Tomorrow, then. And we can meet up after classes to figure out Wednesday?”
Kyoutani nodded before walking forward into Yahaba’s space. His hands rose, and delicately pulled the jacket around Yahaba off. Kyoutani leaned up, barely an inch between the two of them, and said lowly: “Try not to have a stroke in my classroom again.”
Before Yahaba could let out a ragged breath, Kyoutani had pulled on his own jacket and grabbed his leatherbound bag, striding away with sure steps.
“You asshole!” Yahaba called after him, trying to tamp down on his grin.
Kyoutani turned around for a quick second. “See you tomorrow, Yahaba.”
Yahaba turned around as the library doors shut behind Kyoutani, burying his face in his hands. Tomorrow indeed.