Work Text:
Oh, hey. It's another love letter. All pink and with a giant heart on it. Yachi's cool with that. Nothing better than delivering mail to your crush that is obviously yet another love letter. Honestly, how many love letters does she even get? Not that Yachi is surprised. She would get right in line, to be honest. Cupid's arrow had struck her heart the first time their fingers brushed as Yachi had delivered the usual stash of mail.
That's the only good thing – at least the insane flood of decorated letters means that she always has a reason to see Kiyoko, every workday. It also means she has no chance, ever, though. Gosh, why doesn't she love herself? If Yachi loved herself, she would just squish the letters into the too small mailbox and be done with it. No, instead she always rings the doorbell and makes some smalltalk. She's gotten better at that, even. Stumbles over her words and feet less, hell yes!
She also knows that Kiyoko has a cat named Inkheart, that she likes spring best because winter makes her miss the feeling of sun on her skin, that she drinks a cup of hot chocolate every morning, and that she is getting more cute with every bit and piece of new information Yachi files away in her mental little box for her, decorated with just as many hearts as there are on these damn letters. Yachi frowns down at them, takes a deep breath, and forces a sunny smile on her face. Time to drop them off and have the exciting part of the day done with. (The only other real exciting thing is the dog that always thinks her ankles are particularly tasty and who is the reason why Yachi will die of a heart attack someday.)
Kiyoko opens the door with a blanket around her shoulders, hair ruffled and the bags under her eyes darker than some of Yachi's most terrifying scenarios of how she'll die one day. (Zombie Apocalypse is her current theory.)
And still Kiyoko looks nothing short of stunning, even when it looks a teeny tiny bit as if she's starting to turn into a zombie herself, and about to kick off a string of gruesome events that will end with Yachi's brain beaing eaten.
Yachi is instantly worried. Not about the brains. About Kiyoko.
“Hey,” Kiyoko mumbles sleepily, leaning her temple against the door frame, eyes only half open.
“Dear Lord, are you okay?”, Yachi blurts before she can even think of being polite and greeting back. Kiyoko lifts her hand to make some vague gestures and drops it again, humming a worrying mix between a confirmation and a denial.
“'S just a deadline,” she mutters at last, but that doesn't help with Yachi's confusion.
“What kind of deadline?” Why would she be so exhausted? Is someone pressuring her?! Blackmail?! Eeek! Yachi can't imagine doing anything against that, but since it's Kiyoko, she would pull herself together and learn some serious fighting skills to protect her from any harm.
“Ah, I'm a writer, you see. Gotta meet the deadline. I sorta had a major block halfway through so now it's all coffee and not losing my mind, though I'm failing the latter. I made brownies at … four a.m.? The sugar rush brought me through another … how late is it anyway? Think it wore off like an hour ago … now I'm just trying not to faint. I've been up for 32 hours but I'm doing okay, I think ...”
Yachi gapes at Kiyoko, her worry only skyrocketed thanks to that explanation. Dear Lord. Though, wait …
“Oh, you're a writer? You make your living as one? So -” Yachi lifts the stack of letters in her hand. “Those aren't love letters?”
Kiyoko bursts out into a tired giggling fit that lasts much longer than it would have lasted for a person who had gotten a sufficient amount of sleep.
“What, no! Most of them aren't. It's just fanmail.”
Most of them. Well, that's sort of a step forward, isn't it?
“Don't you think you should sleep?”
“Probably, yeah. Just thought I'd wait for you to come by. Now I'll just. Like, pass out.” Again with the slow, vague hand movements.
Yachi could feel a smile tugging at her lips and something warm curling in her stomach. Ah, had Kiyoko really been waiting for her to come by?
Well, idiot, of course. You're the mailwoman.
“So, here's your daily stack of fanmail. You've got to be pretty good to have that many fans! What are you writing? I want to check out your books!”
Kiyoko opens her mouth, raises her hand with the letters, and freezes like that for several seconds. Yachi can almost see a 'buffering' sign slowly spinning over her head.
“... probably not.”
“No, honestly! I insist! Can I just find them under your name?”
“I'm actually using a pen name, uh … I really don't think you'll … like my stuff though ...”
“Why, don't be so harsh on yourself!” Yachi points at the letters. “Plenty of people love them, I'm sure you're amazing. What's your pen name?”
Kiyoko looks down and mumbles the name, and the only reason Yachi understand it is because she knows it well, has an entire stash of books from that very author, pushed into the deepest darkest corner under her bed. The kind of books she hides away from Kageyama and Hinata because honestly, nobody needs to know about them, but she's a girl and she has needs and that particular author writes really amazing, really emotional, really very steamy lesbian erotica and oh dear Lord.
Here's how it goes: Yachi's entire face plus neck and ears as a bonus heat up. Kiyoko glances at her, takes in her reaction, and Yachi can see the very second she realises that Yachi knows. The embarrassment intensifies, thick enough in the air to keep the swaying overly tired Kiyoko on her feet. Then her cheeks flush as well, and then they blink at each other, bright red, and Kiyoko's lips are all wobbly as she tries to keep it together, but then she bursts out into laughter and then they're both doubling over.
They laugh and laugh and laugh, until there's actual tears running down Yachi's face and her stomach hurts, and Kiyoko is holding hers as well.
“Dear Lord,” the writer wheezes, rubbing her eyes, too. “At least there won't be any awkward judging.”
“No judging on my part,” Yachi giggles, the sheer amount of laughter that spilled from her lips loosening her tongue and making all this five hundred times less awkward. “I really do love your books.”
“Well, always glad to meet a fan,” Kiyoko shoots back, and something shifts, there's something about that smile she's giving her now that makes Yachi feel a little hot and a whole lot more light-headed and is she imagining things? She keeps looking at Kiyoko to figure that out, and then she keeps looking because they are making eye contact and it's hard not to be mesmerized and then Kiyoko shifts to get closer to her.
Turns out, the awkwardness was never thick enough to keep her upright.
She stumbles, and then both of them tangle in the air and Yachi squeaks, and then they topple on the floor and Yachi is staring up at the ugly mint coloured ceiling, Kiyoko's letters scattered around her head and with her crush sprawled all over her, so close Yachi's nose is pressed into her neck and her hair is tickling her cheek and she can smell her and dear Lord her weak, gay heart can only handle so much.
“That wasn't planned,” Kiyoko groans, not moving one bit.
“I figured,” Yachi wheezes, giggling again, even when it's uncomfortable with such a weight on her chest.
“I didn't think the cliché shit from my novels would happen to me.”
“Maybe you should sleep more.”
“That might do the trick, yeah.”
They both are giggling and it's bad because Yachi is slowly getting overly aware of all the places where they're touching which is basically all the places.
“I think I'm too tired to get up.”
“Falling asleep like that would be a little uncomfortable.”
“Nah, you're comfy. … oh. I didn't mean to say that, either.”
Yachi finds herself reaching up and patting Kiyoko's head before she can think better of it.
“It's fine. I really do think you should get some sleep. Maybe … roll off me? Then I help you up and take you to bed. Uhm. Sleep. I will, like. You know what I mean.”
The ankle biting dog has nothing on this. That's a walk in the park. Getting a tetanus shot is a walk in the park. Dear Lord, Yachi will devour her entire stash of emergency chocolate as soon as she gets home.
Kiyoko actually does roll off her, and then Yachi pulls her up, and they keep giggling like idiots, Kiyoko apologises about ten times, and Yachi laughs and tells her she can make it up to her by signing her copies of the books.
“I think I should throw in coffee as well. Your head must hurt.”
“Make it coffee and cake. The head's not even that bad, but I will not pass up a chance at free cake.”
She's grinning broadly at Kiyoko, suddenly all bashful and her veins humming with hysterical, short-lived bravery and giddiness.
“Coffee and cake it is. Wait a second, I'll just -”
Kiyoko magically appearifies a pen from under her blanket cocoon, and Yachi expects her to write on a piece of paper, but then the uncapped pen tickles her palm and Kiyoko is writing her number on her hand.
“Here, ring me up. But, in, like, 48 hours. Then the deadline's over and I'm free. And less weird. And now, excuse me, I need to pass out and drool into a pillow – in case I make it to the bed. Maybe I'll just pass out in the hallway. Who knows? Life's a mystery.”
Kiyoko yawns wide, and Yachi is still laughing and smiling so wide it feels like she'll strain her cheek muscles.
“Get some good rest, sleeping beauty. You could need it.”
“Go make other people happy with their mail, sunshine princess.”
One last smile, and Kiyoko shuts the door. Yachi does not hear a thump that might indicate Kiyoko collapsed behind the door, but maybe it was just drowned out by her racing heart and the butterflies that last nickname gave her.
Dear Lord . Dear Lord. What just happened?!
Needless to say, she skips through the entire rest of her day.
(She refuses to tell Hinata and Kageyama which books Kiyoko writes, though. That is not for these innocent boys to know.)