Work Text:
They’ve been doing this for a while. It always starts with a number, a ridiculously large number.
“Fifty.”
“Too many,” is the default answer, coupled by a small laugh. “There aren’t that many people here today,” Yamada adds.
“Twelve.”
It isn’t a bargain, or a compromise; neither is it an agreement.
“Too many.”
Maybe, Yamada thinks, Yuto sees this as a game.
“Five.”
“Too many.” It surprises Yamada himself when he rejects this as well, when they’ve stopped at larger numbers before.
“Three.”
“Okay.” Yamada’s voice sounds a little resigned even to himself, his eyes wandring to the ground before glancing back up, but he doubts that Yuto notices this, the younger man already making his way to the bar with his tray.
Three isn’t the number of shots Yuto dared Yamada to drink for the night. Yamada has a strict rule about not drinking on the job, and he plans to stick to it.
Three is the number of people Yuto is allowed to flirt mercilessly with; the number of hearts Yuto is allowed to break.
That number doesn’t include Yamada’s.
The younger man does it discreetly of course, but Yamada can’t help but glare at whoever he talks to, not being discreet at all.
Frankly speaking, Yamada has no idea why Yuto is working today.
Yamada gives Yuto a strange look when he meets the latter at the locker area, puzzled. He knows how much Yuto adores spending time with his family.
“We’re having Christmas dinner instead, not Christmas Eve,” the younger man explains, to which Yamada simply shrugs.
It doesn’t matter much to Yamada who doesn’t do Christmas, or Christmas Eve. Yamada enjoys working overtime, especially when it eats into Christmas, because he gets paid double.
“Besides,” Yuto continues, “I’m giving you a lift home.”
Yamada blinks, trying desperately to ignore the soaring feeling in his chest, and the way the narrow walls of the locker area feel like they are closing in on him.
“I could always share a cab with Hikaru and Yabu?” Yamada suggests lamely, although he would prefer not to suffer a whole long ride of pretending to ignore how his overgrown co-workers were touching each other. “You don’t have to go out of your way,” he mumbles.
“Silly Yama-chan,” Yuto straight out laughs in his face, and Yamada suppresses the overwhelming urge to pout. The younger man even goes as far as to ruffle his hair, which takes Yamada completely by surprise. “It’s Christmas, don’t be a cockblock.” With that, he disappears into the changing rooms.
This time, Yamada actually pouts. Curse Yuto and his logical reasoning.
“Get to work, Yama-chan,” Hikaru singsongs, making sure to emphasise the nickname in a sickeningly sweet voice, before shoving a Santa hat on Yamada’s head.
Yamada groans, the end of his Santa hat flopping down as well. He hates Christmas.
Nakajima Yuto is an idiot. Nakajima Yuto is a stupid flirt. Nakajima Yuto—
“Hey can I have a glass of champagne?”
Yamada almost tells the girl to go ask Takaki, their bartender, but he turns around to find one of their customers. Quickly, Yamada puts on his professional face.
“Sure,” he grins, handing her a flute.
“Thanks!”
That was close, Yamada thinks. He wants to slap himself for letting that stupid Yuto make him so mad he can’t even do his job properly.
“I feel like an onion.” Yamada blurts when Yuto passes him near the bar, earning him strange looks from the younger man.
“But you don’t look like one?” The latter replies hesitantly, staring at Yamada with his eyebrows furrowed. He glances around before continuing, “if anything, Hikaru looks more like an onion than you do.”
Yamada blinks, his eyes flitting to Hikaru, one of their cooks. Hikaru does somehow resemble an onion with his blond hair and bangs tied up above his head.
Which really isn’t the point, and Yamada tells Yuto that.
“Nevermind,” he smiles, hoping Yuto buys it.
The rest of the night is pretty uneventful, save for the time someone requested for a song to slowdance to and Daiki ended up playing one of those “drop dat bass” songs.
It is two in the morning when the party ends and the staff at JUMParty rush to clean up. Everyone helps out, except Chinen, but they don't bother to ask him to—they already know he’s napping behind the bar counter. They leave the decorations alone, because everyone knows that the next few days will be filled with Christmas-themed parties as well.
Yamada laughs as he pokes one of Yuto’s floppy reindeer antlers as they head back to the locker area. He thinks it makes Yuto look more like a puppy than a reindeer.
“They’re under the mistletoe!” A voice yells, and the both of them look up. Sure enough, there’s one of those problematic creations.
Daiki chooses this exact moment to play a remixed version Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer and Yamada sighs.
“I’ll go wait for you in the car,” Yamada mumbles, heading to collect his coat.
“I never did like those parties anyway,” is Yuto’s attempt to break the silence as they drive through the city, watching the Christmas lights blur.
“Yeah?” Yamada crosses his arms, “then why do you work with me?”
Yuto remains silent for a while, before he pulls up at the side of the road.
“What are you—”
“Did it occur to you that I don’t really need this job?” Yuto begins, and Yamada would be offended if not for how soft his voice was.
Yamada groans internally.
“Right. You have a car and you’re filthy rich,” he finally speaks up, but his voice is uncharacteristically flat. “Stupid me. So you’re just here to make fun of me then? To play with my feelings?”
Yuto almost recoils at that statement, his eyes more broken than ever, and it makes Yamada want to take back every word he said.
Of course not, Yamada wants to say. You’re a great person with an even greater heart, he wants to correct himself, that’s why I liked you.
He doesn’t stay more, instead choosing to look down at his fingers.
Yamada is a coward.
“You,” Yamada looks up when he hears Yuto’s voice crack, just in time to see the younger man blink away tears that are already starting to form, “really mean that?”
Yamada doesn’t know how it happens, but his hand finds Yuto’s and then the latter is staring back at him with sad, hopeful eyes.
“Wait, you said you have feelings?” Yuto’s sudden question pierces through the silence and sends Yamada’s heartbeat in erratic motion. “For me?” Yuto’s voice is awfully soft, and it kills Yamada that the younger man has absolutely no idea what his voice does to him.
“I—” Yamada wants to say that he does, he has had feelings for Yuto for the longest time ever. Ever since that Halloween Party two years ago, where Yuto shrieked when he saw Yamada dressed as a ghost, serving blood-like cocktails to guests.
“Does it matter?” Yamada finally says, lips pressed into a tight smile, ignoring the lump of regret already starting to form in his lungs. “You don’t.”
“I DO!” Yuto screams, and Yamada goes still. Yamada hasn’t known Yuto for very long, but he has never seen the man get mad, or at the very least raise his voice. Seeing the younger man get frustrated at his comment does funny things to his heart, which he thinks might collapse from the whirlwind of emotions Yamada has felt since he entered Yuto’s car.
“But you flirted with all those girls at the party, you went along with all the whole number thing and everything.”
Yamada doesn’t get it.
If anything, Yamada feels furious. How can Yuto sit there and claim that he has feelings for him when he’s the one running over his stupid feelings with a massive tank by wanting to flirt with every living specimen in their parties?
“It was the only way I could talk to you,” he mutters in a small voice, and Yamada almost feels sorry for him. Almost.
“But you had my attention, you could talk to me about other things. You didn’t have to continue with that stupid game.” Yamada sighs.
“I thought the jealousy thing would work. At least Chinen said it would, because you read all those shoujo mangas and stuff,” he mumbles and Yamada scoffs.
“Since when did you start going to Chinen for love advice?” A pause. “And leave my shoujo mangas out of this!”
“Nevermind that short fart,” Yuto grumbles.
“That short fart, is our manager,” Yamada quips, but he has to fight to keep a small smile off his lips.
Yuto turns to Yamada once again, his features hesitant.
“I like you a lot, Yama-chan.”
They meet halfway.
“I kind of like you too. A lot.” Yamada whispers against Yuto’s lips when they part for air, before sealing them with his.
“Drive me home?”