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Eyes heavy, head pounding, Suga thought he’d probably feel tired for the rest of his life. Something about taking five classes in a semester had seemed like an okay idea weeks ago— well, it had seemed like an okay idea to him, his advisor had been pretty against it— but now, at the halfway point of the semester, he wasn’t sure if he’d even survive to see winter break. Standing in line for coffee before his 8 am class, freezing and cursing under his breath, Suga halfway hoped his body would be too cold to dodge the crazy campus drivers today. Maybe death’s embrace would be warm, with less homework.
Suga also thought there was a good chance he was being particularly dramatic today and would feel a lot better after some caffeine.
Rubbing his eyes with mittened hands, he buried his face deeper into the soft turquoise scarf his mom had sent last month. He may be a junior this year, but he still looked forward to his mother’s seasonal care packages like a reminder that he had something to live for.
He really needed that coffee.
Stepping forward in line, he stomped his feet a little to ward off some of the chill. It seemed insane to have the outdoor coffee cart open in November, but it really was the most convenient when he was running late… again. He didn’t envy the baristas, but he promised himself he’d tip really well the next time he had cash on him.
With only two students ahead of him in line, Suga checked his watch. He never did very well in math courses, but if he’d calculated the time right as long as he got his coffee within the next six minutes he’d still make it to lecture on time. Seconds ticked by as the line moved slower than Professor Suzuki’s review sessions and Suga started calculating whether or not making it in time was really that important when the voice in front of him startled him from the logarithmic function he was less and less confident was the right way to figure out his remaining time. Looking up, he caught sight of the boy at the front of the line, well the back of him anyway.
Suga couldn’t see much besides broad shoulders covered in an army-style green jacket pulled up close around the other boy’s ears. His jacket collar was up to protect against the wind, leading to golden-tanned skin and short-cropped dark brown hair. None of that was particularly shocking, but the voice coming from him was. Deep and smooth, it wrapped around Suga like a steaming hot cocoa, soothing him right down to his bones. He sighed into it before realizing the voice had changed. It had gone from the muffled sound of someone facing away from Suga to the clearer tones of someone who had turned around. Wait. Had the guy been talking to him? Well, he hadn't heard a word, so now he looked like an idiot or a total space case or something.
“Fuck.”
The brown eyes looking back at him widened, and Suga noticed they were just a few shades darker than his hair. He also realized there’s no chance in hell that the curse he just uttered was an appropriate response to whatever the boy had said. It was with a touch of embarrassment that he coughed and tried to reply again with a little shake of his head.
“I mean, sorry, jesus, I’m so out of it. What did you say?”
A hesitant half-smile pulled at one side of the boy’s mouth as he repeated kindly in that deep, top-shelf-whisky-on-ice voice.
“What’ll you have?”
Suga blinked. He must have missed that it was his turn to order somehow?
“Cafe Americano, with three- no four shots of espresso.”
The boy’s eyes widened a little further, but he turned back to the barista without comment and handed over the necessary money. Putting together what that must mean, Suga sputtered for a moment as the pieces slid into place in his mind.
“You were muttering about being late for class, figured if I grabbed your coffee with mine there’d be a better chance you’d make it on time.” That lovely deep voice rolled over Suga again as the boy at the counter smiled a little wider, looking like he enjoyed Suga’s confusion.
Well, damn if that wasn’t really nice. As he stared at the boy, somewhere between gaping and leering, Suga realized he looked really nice, too. Those broad shoulders were even more athletic from the front and led down to thick arms and broad hands, red and a little chapped from the cold. Suga wondered if he’d like a pair of mittens for himself, or maybe if Suga could just hold his hand for a moment to warm them— his hands were always cold, but they might at least be warmer than the stranger’s? Not that the stranger would even want to hold his hand, Suga was just really appreciative for the coffee, and really tired, that’s all.
He must look as tired as he felt, too, if he was attracting the pity of strangers on campus. Maybe it was probably time to figure out how to get to sleep before 3 am. As it was, though, the embarrassment of this whole situation had already happened, so the least Suga could do was not be entirely unpleasant about it. He cleared his throat a little and those dark brown eyes found him again, a small pleased smile already stretching over the mouth nestled confidently below them. Suga tried not to stare at that mouth, just like he’d tried not to think about those hands. He cleared his throat.
“Thank you, but you didn’t have to. I don’t even have cash to pay you back with. I’m so sorry.”
The boy shrugged about to reply when the barista called “Daichi!”. Even Suga’s exhaustion-addled brain is able to put that together as the boy picked up two drinks and handed one to Suga. They stood there quietly for a moment, each huddled over and blowing gently on the to-go cups before the boy— Daichi— coughed once.
Suga looked up hopefully as Daichi’s reached him, “Didn’t you have to get to class?”
With a yelp of “shit!” Suga lurched in the direction of his building, still halfway across campus, and called back a thank you over his shoulder and chalked up the whole thing to a random act of kindness due to some good karma he must have put out into the world. Come to think of it, he had edited all of Asahi’s essays this semester, that had to count for something. He shook the hope out of his heart as he scrambled to his lecture, already doing his best to rid himself of cold-looking hands and warm brown eyes.
———
If Suga thought he was tired before, that was nothing to how he felt now. Sitting in the library with books stacked across every surface of his desk, Suga realized, for the 278th time, that doing a double Education/Psych degree was a horrible idea. Possibly his worst one other than trying to study for finals without an industrial sized thermos of pure espresso.
Dropping his forehead down to the desk in front of him with a defeated huff, Suga wondered, for the 371st time, if it was too late to change majors, or drop them both, or drop out of college entirely. He could yet learn to juggle, there had to be circuses in the winter, right? The bright, hopeful light of the holiday break was in sight, but Suga’s sanity felt long gone. Some days, today more than others, that light felt like a train coming to flatten him. Looking at the clock across the hall, the numbers blurred together a bit; and while Suga was thankful for the late hours the library offered, he sometimes wished the librarians would shoo him home or put him out of his misery— he wasn’t super picky.
It’s at that moment a mug plunked down next to him, steaming softly. He looked up, eyes still a little unfocused, but no, it was hard to mistake those broad shoulders and the nice smile of the boy that bought his coffee a few weeks back. Suga felt a twinge of guilt, he had never tried to find the boy or pay him back for that, had he? He’d thought about him a hell of a lot though— well, when he wasn’t cramming for finals or slapping together another research paper — but the boy, Daichi he reminded himself, was smiling at him so he must not be too mad? Suga felt that low voice again before he heard it.
“It’s not an Americano with more espresso than is healthy for the average human heart, but you look like you could use some tea,” he offered, a second steaming mug cupped between his hands. Still broad, though less chapped. Somehow Suga didn’t like that. Had someone else been holding his hands to warm them?
His eyes dragged to the mug next to his textbook as he reached for it. A soft breath in had him exhaling with a hum of pleasure— mint. He realized belatedly that Daichi had just rattled off his coffee order and brought him his favorite tea, his eyes narrowed, taking in the boy with a more critical eye.
Leaning back on the desk next to Suga’s, he looked a little too good to be true. A charcoal button-down, burgundy sweater, and jeans— who dressed like this to be at the library on a Friday night? He must be on a date? A library date? Was that a thing? Probably not. Maybe he was a hallucination? Or Suga’s personal guardian angel? The patron saint of caffeination? Those seemed more likely at this point. Yes, this boy was just some figment of Suga’s overtired brain. A nice looking figment of his imagination, though. Even if Daichi wasn’t real, Suga wished he had on something other than old joggers, a long sleeve t-shirt from his old volleyball team and unbrushed hair.
But if Daichi was just an angel or an apparition there was really no fear here, right? Suga hedged his bets, deciding quickly that if he was going to be seeing things, he might as well take it as far as he could before he woke up from the daydream. His eyes trailed boldly, lazily up Daichi’s form and replied with confidence— and more heat than was strictly appropriate for how terrible he must look.
“Oh yeah? You remember how I take my coffee and you have good taste in tea. Do you know my cocktail order, too?” He flashed a smile over his mug as he took another sip. Damn, this really was good mint tea. Did Daichi know to put two teabags in? It tasted like he did. So probably more angel or saint than random hallucination.
Daichi blinked but didn’t miss a beat, even as a slight red tinge worked its way up to his ears. He stood up straight, not breaking eye contact as his own lips twisted into a cocky little grin.
“Not yet.”
He didn’t wait for a response, but moved to leave Suga with a half smirk, his dark brown eyes looking a little more molten than they had before. Suga would have felt his stomach flip, would have felt a shiver down his spine, but those things were reserved for living boys that flirted with him, not for something his poor, exhausted brain had come up with as a coping mechanism.
All the same, Suga noticed the thick engineering textbook under Daichi’s arm as he turned to go— and perhaps the perfect curve of his ass— and his mouth moved before his brain could catch up.
“The Crow!” he called out, standing to shove his chair behind him quickly, feeling significantly less smooth than he had been just a moment ago.
Daichi turned back, one eyebrow raised, and the look was so cocksure that Suga’s legs went a little watery. He licked his lips just once.
“That’s the bar where I’ll be when the semester is over. In case you want to learn my favorite drink there, too.”
The smile he got in response would almost be smug if it didn’t look so genuinely pleased. The angel, vision, saint, apparition, Daichi, nodded once before continuing back to whatever heaven or exhausted brain cell he had been formed from.
Slumping back to his desk, Suga felt a mix of pride and horror swirl in his stomach alongside the tea. He’d been so sure, so sure that Daichi couldn’t be real— but even his exhausted, deprived brain wouldn’t have thought to pair the face of a romance-novel hero with the ass of a god. So that left the options of a real-life boy or some kind of otherworldly being. Suga sighed into the mug as it cooled, and the solid surety of the mug between his palms was the only thing that forced him to consider that Daichi was maybe a real-life boy. Angels don’t usually do tea-delivery do they?
———
Celebrating the end of a semester had never felt sweeter. Finals were over, grades were in, and the winter break was here. Suga and Asahi had gone out to one of the bars close to campus, resolving to enjoy themselves for a night before Asahi had to buckle down to start his thesis paper. Suga’s plans for the break were a little more simple, he hoped to head home and fall into a coma as quickly as possible. He’d finally caught up on his sleep this week, the bags under his eyes had faded from a deep purple to a nice lavender, but he had also planned to take four classes next semester and possibly an internship. His advisor had sighed knowingly, patting his shoulder while muttering something about ‘a glutton for punishment’, so Suga’s best hope against his own poor choices were to bank a few extra hours of rest before the start of the next term. He knew it didn’t really work like that, but seeing as he had no other plans, sleeping for two weeks straight sounded pretty great.
Asahi had excused himself for a moment to take a call from his boyfriend, leaving Suga alone at the bar, empty glass in hand. He swiveled on the stool, looking around lazily, not exactly searching for dark brown eyes and an inviting smile, but not not looking for that, either. He told himself even if he didn’t find what he definitely wasn’t specifically looking for he was still enjoying the warm buzz of the music and the few drinks already in his system. It had been an entire semester since he’d been here last, and he wasn’t disappointed to see interest on more than a few faces— some new and some familiar. The appreciation was nice, maybe making a new friend tonight could be nice, too. He could always catch up on sleep tomorrow. As long as he waited until Asahi’s tiny whirlwind boyfriend arrived, his housemate would barely notice if Suga slipped out the door with a stranger. It wouldn’t be the first time that arrangement had worked out for them both.
He turned back to the bar to order another round as a fresh drink arrived in front of him. Suga frowned, the bartender was good, but he’d never gotten this kind of service before. The sound of a throat being cleared next to him drew his eyes, and lo and behold, his caffeinated guardian angel sat on the stool beside him, a beer in hand and that same casual smile on his face, warming the deep brown of his eyes into something soft.
Suga took in his appearance appreciatively. Daichi was three for three on looking a little too good to be true. He sat at the bar with the comfort of someone who had been here for a while, and maybe he had, judging by the soft glaze in those dark eyes. The eyes were almost enough to hold Suga’s focus completely, but the black T-shirt Daichi was wearing hugged his upper body in a way that has Suga crossing off the idea of ‘angel’ from his list. There’s just no way angels had arms like that.
Before he drooled on himself, Suga remembered himself. He quirked an eyebrow at Daichi and sniffed delicately at the drink in front of him. His eyes lit at the familiarity of it and his lips curved up.
“Is this a spicy margarita?” he asked coyly.
Daichi’s response is a half-proud, half-demure smile.
“How did you know?”
“You seem like someone that likes a little fire in their veins but a little sweetness on their tongue.”
The words weren’t said with any particular invitation, but Suga feels them roll over him like a train as his body responded. It had been a while since he’d been with someone, but he hadn’t planned on his brain betraying his body with a hallucination. But then a broad hand rested carefully, almost questioningly on his knee, and Suga sucked in a breath.
This guy was not a hallucination. Suga’s imagination wasn’t good enough to create the sensation of touch— he’d tried while alone at night, in bed, in showers, he’d really tried— and definitely not good enough to create a touch that curled a slow smoking fire from his knee to his head.
So somehow over the course of the last month and a half Daichi had creepily— sweetly?— gotten him coffee, brought him tea, and now paid for a drink, all of which were to Suga’s liking. This all processed through his brain at rapid speed, it was incredible what higher level thinking he was capable of with actual sleep— and Suga caught up with reality with just enough time to hear the ‘have a good night’ murmured from that deep voice as he shifted to blend into the crowd.
This couldn’t keep happening. Either Daichi was real and Suga was going to have a real conversation with him, or he was some kind of mirage that would disappear when Suga confronted him. Without thinking, Suga moved forward off of his stool, reaching forward to slide his hand into Daichi’s just before the crowd swallowed him. Daichi barely glanced back, but his grip tightened with a comforting— very real— warmth and Suga allowed himself to be towed through the throngs of people, through the bar’s doorway, and into the cold night air.
His head swirled a bit as he stood outside, suddenly registering the weight of a coat around his shoulders before he could so much as shiver. He looked down at the green army-style jacket and back up at the espresso-brown eyes peering at him. There had been no plan when he’d grabbed Daichi’s hand, but it seemed like he should say something now.
“I’m Suga”
How was it possible that Suga could wax poetic on crusty old literature for professors all day long, but when faced an actual real-life human that’s both attractive and his age he could only come up with his name? Jesus. Asahi would never let him hear the end of this if it got back to him.
Daichi smiled, though, so it seemed like that was the right thing to say after all.
“Daichi.”
Suga smiled back, almost reflexively to the openness on Daichi’s face. He wondered if Daichi was cold without his jacket, but the way he’s stood, completely at ease, it looked like it could be a balmy spring day. Had Daichi drank enough to stay warm out here on his own? Was he one of those types that naturally ran that warm and were perfect to cuddle with in the winter? No, Suga didn’t need to go there, save the daydreaming for after he sorted out… whatever this was. And either way, Suga didn’t really want to give the jacket back just yet, so he was happy to tug it tighter around him.
“I’ve figured out that much. What I don’t understand is how you keep appearing and disappearing, and always with the beverage I need most. Are you an angel? Some kind of caffeination fairy? A hallucination?”
Daichi’s responding chuckle sounded as nice as his speaking voice, still with that warm-cocoa feeling and Suga felt the sudden desire to hear him laugh again and again.
“I’m just a college student trying to flirt with the cute guy I keep seeing around campus.”
The answer is so honest it’s disarming, Suga felt his mouth pop open a little. To his relief, Daichi chuckled again, one hand moving to the back of his heck, and it gave Suga enough time to remember how to form words. He tilted his head to the side, one side of his mouth pulling up.
“Oh yeah? The drinks are appreciated, but the— admittedly impressive— disappearing act does make it a little tough for cute guys on campus to flirt back. Overall how successful has that flirting style been for you? ”
Daichi stepped forward and Suga could feel the heat from his body, even nicer than the warmth of his coat. Tipping his head up just a touch, he felt Daichi’s soft murmur deep in his bones as he grabbed either side of the jacket around Suga and tugged.
“If you stop talking I’ll let you know.”
Suga’s eyes closed just as their lips came together, and the kiss is exactly right. Strong and sure, deep and rich, just like Daichi. One hand moved from the zipper of the jacket to cup the back of Suga’s neck, tangling softly in his hair, and Suga felt an electric jolt as Daichi’s teeth scraped gently across his lower lip. Suddenly he felt more awake now than he’d ever been.