Work Text:
“Good morning! Oikawa Tooru, was it? Please come on in!” A friendly white-haired man greets Tooru at the front desk of the bookstore.
“I read over your application, and I think you’ll be a great fit here! We don’t really do interviews, I feel like they’re a waste of time, so if you’re ready, we can start discussing your hours and I’ll introduce you to some of our staff?”
“Sounds perfect.” Tooru assents, and flashes his “straight-A student” smile at the man. When Tooru had found the bookstore’s listing online, the position had sounded too good to be true; a part-time job with a flexible schedule, discounts on books for students, and barely a 10 minute walk from his campus? Tooru couldn’t have submitted his resume faster.
Funnily enough, Iwaizumi had discouraged him from applying. “You’ll stretch yourself thin trying to juggle school, volleyball, and now a job,” his roommate warned, and Tooru knew he was thinking about high school, when Tooru didn’t know what the word “moderation” meant and worked himself to the bone.
But volleyball practice didn’t pay bills, and university expenses were no joke, so when Tooru got a call from the bookstore saying they wanted him to come in for an interview, he jumped at the opportunity.
“You’re not our only college student, we’ve got about three others working here, and I’m planning on assigning one of them to help you out for your first couple of days, show you the ropes, that kind of thing.” The manager says, leading him past the cafe. “In fact, there’s one over there. Since he’s been here the longest, I think I’ll have him show you around.” Tooru turns to where the manager is gesturing, and his mouth drops into an “o.”
Well, look who it is.
It seems Sugawara has the same thought as him, and when he looks up from the cash register, his eyes widen, and his initial kind smile sharpens for a moment. While its not as though he’s a completely changed person since high school, Tooru notes that something about the way he carries himself now is different. It doesn’t look like he’s grown, but he seems taller, or at least more sure of himself. But the gray hair, the tiny dot high on the apple of his left cheek, and the warm yet observant eyes are as present as ever.
“Mr. Refreshing! What a surprise.” Tooru greets him.
“Oikawa-kun, I didn't know you lived around here.”
“Mmm, I go to school here.”
“You have met before?” The manager asks, and Suga nods.
“We… knew each other in high school.” Tooru explains, and the manager beams.
“Well, that’s perfect! Suga is on the same schedule that I put you on, Oikawa-kun, and since you two seem familiar with one another, I’ll have Suga here be your guide when you start on Monday! If that’s alright with the both of you, of course.”
Tooru and Suga eye each other for a heavy moment, and Tooru almost feels like if he looks away first, he loses. Then Suga’s expression shifts, and he smiles.
“That’s fine with me if Oikawa’s okay with it.” Tooru squints. Was there a hidden challenge in those words? A double meaning? Some undertone he was supposed to pick up on?
Something Iwaizumi had said to him a few days ago while he was complaining about the rude barista at the nearby coffee shop suddenly flies around his head.
Not everyone is out to get you. Real life isn’t a volleyball court, idiot.
This wasn’t a volleyball court. This was a bookstore, and Mr. Refreshing is looking at him expectantly, with dust on his navy blue sweater and one hand still on the cash register.
“Fine by me. Please take me on as your humble cashier student, Suga-sensei.” He quips, and even though real-life isn’t a volleyball court, for some reason, he feels like he’s scored a point when Suga laughs.
----
When he makes it back to his dorm, the first thing Tooru does is flop on the tiny couch and smoosh his face into a throw pillow, letting out a sigh of relief at finally being home.
“How was the interview?” Iwaizumi asks from the kitchen. He appears to be cooking… something. Verdict is still out on whether it’ll be edible or not. Poor Iwaizumi just won’t accept that he’s a bad cook by nature.
“They liked me SO much, they didn’t even bother with an interview.” Tooru says, letting smugness seep into his voice. He can feel Iwaizumi’s glare at the back of his head, and he smiles into the pillow.
“And, you’ll never believe who I ran into. Remember Sugawara?”
Iwaizumi shakes his head.
Tooru tries again. “Mr. Refreshing?”
“Ohhh. The Karasuno setter with the gray hair?”
“Yep. He works there, and he’s gonna teach me how to use the register, stock the shelves, all that, starting Monday. Something tells me he isn’t completely looking forward to it, though.”
“I can’t imagine why.” Iwaizumi’s tone is so dry it sucks the moisture out of Tooru’s face.
“The pan is on fire.” Tooru retorts, and Iwaizumi’s glare turns to panic and (for the fifth time this week) he reaches for the fire extinguisher.
----
The girls that come into the bookstore are cute, thinks Tooru when he comes in for his first day on Monday. The boys that come into the library are cute, too, he decides. There are a few regular nonbinary customers that come in every so often, and they’re cute as well.
Tooru is thinking about these cute people when Suga suddenly claps his hands right under his nose. He jerks and falls off of his stool with a thump.
“Oikawa. You aren’t here to stare at our customers. There’s a big stack of unbought books on that counter over there that need to go to their shelves. Please make yourself useful,” Suga chides.
“Yes, Refreshing-sensei,” Tooru grumbles. Suga extends a hand, and Tooru uses it to pull himself up. His hands are really warm.
The customer Tooru was certainly not staring at pulls their scarf up over their mouth, but their shaking shoulders give away their laughter.
“And stop calling me that.”
Tooru brightens. “Of course. ‘Suga-chan’ it is!”
----
Tooru is on his break when Iwaizumi calls.
“Get chives, garlic, and ginger on your way back.” He orders.
“Oh? Are you going to try to cook another brick again?”
“It was supposed to be fried rice, asshole. Just get the damn ingredients.”
“Of course. Anything for you, Iwa-chan.” He purrs, dipping his voice into that tone that he knows Iwaizumi can’t stand. As expected, he hangs up on Tooru.
“Iwa-chan?” Suga repeats, rummaging through the break room’s shelves and producing a box of raspberry herbal tea. Tooru likes watching Suga make tea. There’s something soothing about the regularity of the routine: Suga offers him a cup, Tooru says no, water into the kettle, spoon in the sugar jar, and then the clink-clink-clink of Suga stirring the fragrant herbs.
“Do you remember Iwa-chan? Iwaizumi? Brown hair, always yelling at me, Permanent Scowl Syndrome?” Tooru suggests.
Suga snaps his fingers. “Oh! Spiky-yama!”
Tooru pauses. “Huh?”
“I called him that in my head because when I saw him on the court, he reminded me a lot of Kageyama, except his hair was spiky. Y’know, like you said: scowls a lot, always yelling at his boyfriend-”
“Boyfriend? You mean that shrimp?” Tooru leans forward in his chair, suddenly extremely interested.
“Yeah. They got together the year after I left Karasuno. Finally worked out their feelings for each other. They’re pretty cute for a couple who yell at each other more than they talk.” Suga says fondly.
“Well, look at that. The brat managed to secure his first relationship.” Tooru scoffs. “Me and Iwa-chan could put still Tobio-chan to shame.” Iwaizumi is probably howling somewhere at the mere thought of dating Tooru, he thinks happily.
Suga turns away from Tooru at that, facing the kettle. Odd. The kettle already boiled. “How long have you and Iwaizumi-”
“Since third grade.” Tooru gets the how long has Iwaizumi put up with you question often enough to give the answer like a knee-jerk reaction.
“Wow. That young?” Suga marvels.
“Mmhhmm. Our parents were best friends, so…” naturally we hung out a lot and became friends, he finished, but he figured that was obvious.
“Huh.” Suga’s expression is unreadable. Tooru takes his first slow sip of his coffee-
And promptly spits it out in a spray.
“Oikawa?!”
“Salt. It’s fucking salt.” The horrible taste coats his mouth, and Tooru’s chair makes an awful screeching noise when he shoots up to go to the sink.
“What are you- wait.” Suga squints at the container of what was supposed to be sugar, of what Tooru had added several teaspoons of to his coffee, and bursts into laughter.
“Haha. Hilarious. Keep giggling, Suga-chan.” Tooru pauses from gargling the sink water to shoot a glare at his coworker, and almost chokes.
Suga’s head is thrown back, his mouth twisted into a grin, and his peals of laughter fill the room. When the last of the giggles leave his body, his gaze settles on Tooru, still smiling.
“Aw, you look so hurt. I almost feel bad.” Suga mockingly pouts. Tooru splashes water at him and more laughter rings out, this time from both of them.
Suga is helping Tooru pat down his shirt with napkins when he decides boys who work at bookstores are also cute.
-----
Suga already feels bad enough for crushing on someone who’s in a relationship. Oikawa doesn’t need to go and make things harder for him.
The worst part is, it doesn’t even seem like he’s doing it on purpose, at least at first.
“Suga-chan, is that book too high? Don’t want you to strain yourself.”
“Suga-chan, your collar’s folded the wrong way. Here, lemme fix it.”
“You got me coffee? Aww, Suga-chan, you’re making me blush!”
“Did I do a good job at this, Suga-chan? I did? Yay!”
It’s… flirting. Suga’s not stupid. The problem is that Suga can’t tell if it’s Oikawa’s usual antics or if it means something different with him.
And then there’s Iwaizumi. Iwa-chan. Oikawa’s boyfriend.
When Suga had seen the way the two played side-by-side on the court in high school, he suspected in the back of his mind that there might have been more to their relationship besides being teammates, but he never would have guessed that they’d been together since THIRD GRADE.
Third grade? Seriously? Whose parents let them get a boyfriend in third grade? And they’d stayed together ever since? For an entire decade?
But when Oikawa talks on the phone to Iwaizumi, bickers with him like they’ve been married for years, uses that familiarity and playfulness that goes beyond any of his and Suga’s interactions, it's much easier for Suga to believe.
At the same time, though, he had to scold Oikawa for eyeing up some of the customers and getting distracted. He had seen Oikawa blatantly flirt with several of the workers at the cafe (which, now that he thinks about it, hasn’t been happening as of late for some reason). He heard him drop cheesy pick-up lines at the elderly women that sometimes shop here, which, okay, fine, maybe that doesn’t count.
Suga still hates himself a little for it, but Oikawa’s just so… earnest with him. The teasing and the banter is, of course, a crucial pillar to their working relationship, but when he’s not making fun of Suga’s cardigans, he’s looking back at him every time he masters a new task, like he’s awaiting Suga’s praise, or he’s leaning his whole body towards Suga, like his every word is worth hearing.
And every time, Suga gives in to his weakness.
-----
Tooru is meticulous by nature. He runs drills, again and again, to nail and perfect his technique. He always takes note of which strategies are working, which are not, and which his team should try. He runs through every scenario, every play possible, in a sped-up volleyball game in his head to plan for counterattacks and mishaps.
So it doesn’t make sense how he’d managed to fuck this up so royally.
He had planned everything to the T; he’d bought movie tickets to a new anime movie Suga mentioned a week in advance because he knew they would sell out fast close to Valentine’s Day. He knew Suga hated the idea of public proposals, so he chose Friday to ask Suga out so that he could catch him before everyone clocked out and the place would be a bit less crowded and he wouldn't feel so pressured. He’d gotten a bouquet, he’d lint-rolled his shirt, and he’d even restocked that raspberry tea he liked so much.
Things were going really nice with Suga. Tooru wouldn’t just spring something like this on him if he didn’t think there was a chance his feelings went both ways: it definitely seemed like Suga enjoyed his presence. He always managed to get Suga to laugh, went out of his way to help him, playfully flirted with him within boundaries, and Suga never failed to flash him that bright, genuine smile, the one that made Tooru feel like something precious.
So why, in the aftermath, did he feel so small, so bruised, and like the biggest idiot on the planet?
“Suga-chan, I have something to show you. Can you come with me to the break room?” He’d called to him an hour ago. Suga squinted suspiciously, but got up and followed Tooru.
The break room didn’t look that different from usual. Tooru felt like decorating it would have been overkill, and also a pain to conceal from Suga, so he just opened the windows so the evening sun could give the room that warm glow, and he'd set the bouquet on the table. His nerves thrummed, like when he drank too much coffee, as he turned to face the former setter, whose eyes wide at the display.
He likes simple, Tooru. He reminded himself. Keep it simple.
“Suga-ch… Kou-chan. I… really like you. Will you be my Valentine?” He beams at Suga, holding out the flowers, but his smile freezes at the clouded expression on the other’s face.
He looks… angry?
“Oikawa.” He starts, and a pit starts to form in Tooru’s stomach because Suga’s voice is going all dark and scary. “Is this some kind of joke?”
That’s not how this was supposed to go.
“Wha-”
“Iwaizumi? Does he know? Does he know that you pull shit like this behind his back?”
“Why are-”
“I don’t know what you were thinking with this, but it's not funny. I… thought you were different since high school, but you haven’t changed at all, have you? You’re still an asshole who’ll play anyone you find entertaining.” Suga spits out. “You selfish prick. And I almost gave you a chance, too. I should’ve listened to the warning signs. I should've known you’d pull some bullshit like this. You’ve wasted your time, Oikawa. I feel bad for Iwaizumi.” With that, he turns on his heel and slams the door behind him, leaving Tooru alone with the bouquet and the tickets.
Is this a dream? Is Tooru dreaming? He has to be, because he’s never heard Suga sound like that towards anyone. He pinches himself. Not a dream, then.
Tooru blinks, then blinks again. When his body finally decides to unfreeze, he realizes he’s still holding the flowers out.
The flowers seem mocking now.
He thought Suga would like the bouquet the best. He’d worked with the florist to choose each flower: orange petunias, baby blue hydrangeas and white lilies with a big sunflower, Suga’s favorite, in the center, all tied with a black ribbon.
You haven’t changed at all, have you.
Selfish prick.
Almost gave you a chance, too.
You’ve wasted your time, Oikawa.
If today has proven anything, it's that Tooru thought a lot about Suga that he realized was wrong. Like that he was kind, and that he would spare Tooru’s feelings, and let him down gently if he didn’t reciprocate, and maybe they could part ways as friends.
Instead, he’s left feeling very small.
The colors of the bouquet start to blur, and Tooru scrubs harshly as his eyes. Thankfully, none of the few people still inside the bookstore say anything when Tooru rushes out of the break room at a pace just shy of a run.
He chucks the flowers at the trash can without stopping before pushing the doors open. The bouquet bounces off the rim and lands inside with a clang.
----
Suga shuts the door of his dorm behind him and sags to the floor. The weight of the day settles on him all at once, and he feels crushed.
Because that was the worst part of this disaster. It wasn’t that Oikawa was a chronic flirt. It wasn’t even that he had a boyfriend.
It was that despite all of that, Suga still went and caught feelings, and now he’s nursing a broken heart over his own foolishness.
Fuck, thinks Suga, rubbing his eyes, it would have been a really sweet idea otherwise. He probably worked hard on that set-up.
Yeah? You think all the other people he’s had before you thought the same thing? A voice in his head sneers.
Suga presses his hands to his eyes hard, hard enough that he could probably shoot them out of the back of his skull, and then his phone buzzes. Suga ignores the call and lets it go to voicemail, and then it starts ringing again. Pissed, he snatches the phone out of his coat pocket.
An unknown caller?
“Hello?”
“Is this Suga?” A deep, vaguely familiar voice asks. Where have I heard that voice…?
“Uh, yeah, who is-”
“Alright, Suga, you’re gonna shut up and you’re gonna listen because you have made someone close to me very upset, and I’m gonna make your life hell until you fix what you did.”
It almost sounds like- “Is this Iwai-”
“Ah-up-up-up, you know damn well who it is, and what did I say?” barks Iwaizumi. “Shut the fuck up, and listen very carefully because I will not repeat myself. Say yes if you understand.”
Holy shit. “Y-yes.” Suga clutches the phone with both his hands. He’s never felt more confused and more scared in his life.
“Good. Now zip it. Follow along with what I’m saying and let me know if any of this rings a bell. I have this friend, right? And for the past few months he won’t stop talking about a guy he met at work. He really likes him, and Valentine’s Day is coming up, so my friend spends weeks organizing how he’s gonna ask this guy out. Now, my friend has asked people out before, but he’s never put this much thought into how he does it. Y’know what he even did? He gets this fancy bouquet custom designed with their team colors. When I asked him about it, he says this guy is worth the extra effort. So tell me, Suga, why today my friend comes home crying, with no bouquet, not because he gave it to the guy, but because he threw it out after the guy spit his confession back into face?”
Suga’s blood goes cold.
Friend? Bouquet? Flowers?
“What are you… I thought-”
“You thought what? Hmm? You thought he was the same asshole he was in high school? So you’re allowed to mature, and your teammates are allowed to learn from their mistakes, but of course Oikawa stayed exactly the same asshole he was then, right? Did he talk to anyone else? Did you ever see him so much as flirt or look at anyone when he was with you? Because I’ve never met your sorry ass but I know Oikawa, and when he talks about someone as much as he did about you, he’s got eyes for that person only-”
“I thought you were dating! I thought you guys had been together this whole time!” Suga blurts out, his hands shaking where they’re gripping his phone. “I liked him- I still like him so much, and I thought he was trying to- to use me to cheat, or feed his ego, or mark me off his checklist, I don’t know.” He tries and fails to keep the voice crack at bay. “I had no idea… Oh my, God, I messed up so bad.”
“You sure did, and here’s what’s gonna happen now, Suga.” Iwaizumi says chillingly. “You’re gonna drop everything you’re doing, you’re gonna get in the car, and you’re gonna drive yourself to the address I’m texting you now. When you get here, I’m gonna open the door and leave you to fix what you did, and you better do it right because if I come back in in three hours and sunshine and rainbows aren’t coming out of his ass, I will fuck your shit up beyond recognition. Do I make myself clear?”
“C-crystal.”
“Perfect. If you aren’t here in thirty minutes I’m coming for you myself.” Iwaizumi hangs up with a beep, and the resulting silence is deafening.
Suga scrubs at his eyes with his sleeves. None of that, he chides himself. He’s disgusted at his own tears. What was he thinking? He’s far from the person who has any right to feel hurt right now.
In fact, he’s quite the opposite. He’s the one who did the hurting. Suga slaps his cheeks hard, then grabs his keys.
Iwaizumi said thirty minutes, but Suga could make it in twenty, which leaves just enough time for a quick detour.
----
Suga actually makes it in fifteen. His insides slither and twist into warm, nervous snakes. He’s barely knocked three times before the door is yanked open.
A very angry Iwaizumi looks him up and down, as though Suga is trying to smuggle in something dangerous. He spots the package in Suga’s left arm and his expression softens the slightest bit.
“Bedroom.” Is all he says before pushing past Suga and shutting the door, leaving Suga alone with…. him.
Suga toes off his shoes, places the crinkly plastic bag on the blue kitchen counter, and begins the search for Oikawa’s bedroom.
It’s not hard to find. One of the bedroom doors is plain dark wood with a single coat hook fastened at the top, and the other is decorated with various stickers, one being a tiny alien emoji. It’s obvious whose is whose, and weirdly endearing.
I have to fix this. I have to fix this. Suga chants to himself. Now that he’s a door away from Oikawa, the snakes in his belly have gone from twisting themselves to eating themselves.
No wonder Oikawa had seemed so lost when Suga lashed out. No wonder he looked so heartbroken and fragile.
He hears a sniffle on the other side of the door, muffled but distinct. Fuck. Suga wants to punch himself in the face.
He knocks twice. “Oikawa?” He calls softly. Fabric rustles, then a bed frame squeaks, but Oikawa says nothing.
That’s understandable.
Suga wills himself to keep his voice steady. “Hey, Oikawa. It’s me. Iwaizumi let me in. You, uh, you don’t have to say anything, or even listen, but there’s some really important things I need to tell you. I…” He takes a breath. “I fucked up so badly today. I was really mean, I said things about you that aren’t true, and I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Oikawa. I… thought you were already in a relationship, and you were just going to use me, but I was wrong. Really wrong. Shit, sorry.” He curses, wiping at his eyes with his sleeves. “I… like you. A lot. I like hearing your laugh, I think it's cute that you secretly add a cupful of sugar to your coffee when you think I’m not looking, and work is so long and boring when you’re not there.” Suga takes another deep, shaky breath. Still nothing from the other end. “Fuck, you even got flowers with our team colors. No one’s ever been that thoughtful to me, and I-I- I’m so sorry. I wanna make it up to you. Can you forgive me, Oikawa?”
Still nothing. Suga can’t leave, not until he tries one more time.
“Tooru? Can I see you? Please? You don’t have to, and I’ll leave soon, I just…”
Suga didn’t hear the footsteps or the bed frame squeak again, so when the doorknob jiggles, he jumps.
The knob clicks, the door swings open, and there’s Oikawa, still in the clothes he wore to work, although now much more rumpled. His cheeks are wet and his eyes are rimmed red, shiny with more unshed tears, and Suga’s heart shatters into pieces for what must be the tenth time in the past hour. Before he can think, he throws his arms around the trembling boy’s waist.
“Tooru, I'm sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Suga whispers, trying and failing to keep his voice from shaking, and Oikawa slowly reciprocates the hug, winding his arms around suga’s shoulders tighter and tighter until he's clinging to him, as though he’s scared Suga will leave if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.
Suga squeezes back at the thought. I’m not going anywhere, Tooru.
They stay like that for what feels like an eternity, so much so that Suga is anxious to check a clock just to make sure he’s still under Iwaizumi’s allotted 3 hours.
“Suga-chan…” The first word he’s said this entire time is muffled into Suga’s shoulder. He waits, gives Oikawa time to formulate his thoughts into words.
“Did… you bring milk bread?”
There’s a beat of silence. Then Suga jabs his fingers into Oikawa’s side.
“How did you even know… can you smell it?! All the way from here? Are you superhuman or something?”
“I heard the plastic bag crinkle- Eep! Koushi, no more!” Oikawa tries to escape Suga’s burrowing fingers, but Suga’s tickling skills are honed from years of being an older brother. Oikawa scurries back into his bedroom and falls back onto his bed, Suga hot on his heels.
“You little- I thought you were going to say something deep and emotional!” But Suga is laughing too, matching Oikawa’s giggles, and his heart is the lightest it’s been for months.
Suga, an education major who quit sports after high school, can’t hold his own against a proficient volleyball athlete for long, and Oikawa finally manages to grab his wrists and pull them away from his ribs, both of their chests heaving and out of breath.
And both of them realize their position very abruptly. Suga is leaning over Oikawa, on Oikawa’s bed, pinning Oikawa’s legs to the mattress with his body weight.
What in the shoujo manga-
“Oh no, Suga-chan,” Oikawa purrs, smirking up at Suga with delight dancing in his eyes, “I’ve got you in such a scandalous position.”
And that sets off something in Suga, because if they were in a shoujo manga, in this position, Oikawa would technically be the girl, which means Suga has to-
He pulls his wrists out of his grasp and drops down so his arms are braced on either side of his head, face inches from Oikawa’s.
“Say ‘Koushi’ again,” He murmurs. “Like you did earlier.”
He takes pride in Oikawa’s stunned expression and the rapidly deepening blush on his cheeks. He’s probably not used to partners who are more bold than he is. He’s so cute, Suga wants to explode.
“K-Koushi.” He mumbles, not breaking eye contact. “Like that?”
“Mhm. And can I call you Tooru from now on?” He asks, moving ever so slightly closer.
“Yes.” He says quickly.
“Then, Tooru,” They’re almost nose-to-nose now, “Can I kiss you?”
Oikawa doesn’t bother with words this time. He surges up, wrapping his hands around Suga’s waist, and presses their lips together.
----
(When Hajime gets back, Oikawa is passed out on Suga’s shoulder and some American romance movie is playing on the television. Suga looks over Oikawa's head and presses his finger to his own lips in the Shhh motion. Hajime rolls his eyes and turns away to look down at his phone.
from: tadashi ♡
how did it go? is oikawa looking any better?
to: tadashi ♡
i think so. i mean, the fact that he’s currently sleeping in suga’s arms on the couch like a baby probably means something
from: tadashi ♡
awww
suga-san is really comfy though. oikawa is lucky
Hajime frowns at the screen.
to: tadashi ♡
you’ve slept in suga’s arms?????
from: tadashi ♡
HAJIME NO he used to hug us all sometimes at practice
why, were you jealous?
i bet youre making that cute scowling face right now
Hajime wipes his scowl off of his face and scoffs. He glances back at where the two are tangled up on the sofa. Suga is staring down at Oikawa, an expression almost like reverence on his face, and gently playing with his hair.
Hajime, he thinks to himself as he hangs his coat up, you are such a good friend.