Work Text:
Takanashi leaned over the serving hatch. “Oi, Satou-san, your phone is ringing.”
“I’m taking my break now,” Satou said to Souma, who said nothing, only leered.
His standard routine - enter the break room, pull out a cigarette, sit down, light it - had become part of his life at Wagnaria after so many years. He looked forward to it. Today, though, he didn’t stop to feel for the box in his uniform pocket - he instead reached for his phone, praying that he would get to it before it stopped ringing - and slapped it to his ear. It was probably his dad asking to use the car, or cook a fucking three-course meal for free, or something like that.
“What?”
“Hello, Satou-kun?”
Ah, shit.
“Yachiyo - I didn’t know it was you, I’m sorry. I just started my break.”
“I’m sorry to distract you from your work. Maybe I shouldn’t have called.”
“No, I’m glad you did. I was distracted anyway.” Satou registered a presence in the back of the room, but he didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was. “Fuck off , Souma.”
A loud crash made him finally turn his head. Souma was on the floor, groaning. Evidently, Yamada had chosen that moment to jump on his back.
“How did you know?” he asked, rubbing his head as he got up. Yamada stayed on the floor.
“Because you always have a creepy aura whenever you walk into a room. Yamada just amplifies it. Now both of you, fuck off.” They scampered out of the break room and he returned his attention to the phone. “Sorry. Are you still there?”
“Yes - was that Aoi-chan? How is she doing?”
He sank back into his chair, finally lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. “She’ll end up working here forever if she doesn’t stop breaking dishes. Nine today already.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to leave, so she breaks them on purpose?” Yachiyo asked.
“I don’t think anyone would purposely invoke Takanashi’s rage. Although he’s been less angry since he got with Inami. She doesn’t punch him anymore.”
“Yes, Mahiru-chan told me the other day how she has finally gotten over her androphobia. I’m very proud of her.”
“Mm,” Satou replied, not really knowing what to say. He sat in silence for a while before remembering. “Oh yeah, the manager nearly punched a customer today.”
And then her laughter rang out, muffled through the phone. Satou felt that telltale twist in his stomach.
“What?” he asked, trying and failing to sound annoyed. It was impossible to be unhappy around Yachiyo, he thought - and then he mentally punched himself for being such a sap.
“Well, it’s just - I can’t help but think that our roles have been reversed. Now you’re the one telling me about Kyouko.”
“Well, you’ve got to get the news from someone, haven’t you?” He rested his head on his hand, pressing the phone closer to his ear. He didn’t realise how much he would miss these mundane interactions - talking about their day, half-listening to impassioned Kyouko rants, berating her when she used up all the cream making parfaits, driving her home after late shifts, but now he felt a pang of nostalgia. “I…”
“I?”
“I wish you were here. With me,” he gritted out, shaking his head so his hair hid his face - like Yachiyo could even see him over the phone anyway.
“I know.” He felt the weight of the unspoken words - I miss you too, all of you, but I needed to move on, and I am happy here, but it still makes me sad that I won’t be working with you anymore. He sighed, relighting his cigarette - it had gone out at some point during their conversation. The taste was always worse when lighting it a second time - he gulped his drink down to cover the taste. Yachiyo had introduced him to it - he had balked at the cute, pink can, but it tasted really fucking good, so damn him if he didn’t buy it out of a sense of aesthetics . It reminded him of her - sweet in a way that should be overpowering, but ended up being completely addictive.
“Everything is so much more annoying now. I think Taneshima’s hair is going to fall out if I keep pulling it.”
Yachiyo giggled again. “Jun, you have to stop doing that. It’s cruel.” Satou choked on a mouthful of smoke. His face heated up and he felt the tips of his ears burning red.
“Since when do you call me that?”
“Ah - do you want me to stop? I’m sorry, I thought-”
“No!” he yelled, before remembering that he had creepy stalker coworkers, who were way too invested in his personal relationships, that probably heard him yelling. “No, I- I like it.” Sure enough, Taneshima popped her head round the doorframe.
“Satou-san, are you okay?” she asked.
“Yes, but if you don’t leave me alone then you won’t have a hair left on your head!” he responded brusquely, taking an angry puff of his cigarette. Taneshima squeaked and ran back down the corridor as fast as her little legs could take her.
“That was mean.” Shit, Yachiyo actually sounded upset.
“Yeah, I know. I’ll apologise to her later.” He just wanted to have a normal break, finish his cigarette, and talk to his fucking girlfriend.
“No, go and apologise to her now. I know she’s struggling with the change in duties as the new chief, and she’s still looking out for you. She doesn’t deserve to be yelled at like that.” Well done, Jun. Upsetting your girlfriend with your fucking crass mouth.
“Okay. Wait here.” He stubbed out his cigarette - it was pretty much finished anyway - and lapsed into that awkward half-walk, half-run, like when you’re crossing the road and a driver lets you go, so you don’t want to run full speed because that would be embarrassing, but you don’t want to walk because they’d be kept waiting. It always ended up looking stupid, and today was no different. “Oi, Taneshima!” he yelled, stumbling into the service area where she was crouched on the floor, being petted by Takanashi. Gross. She looked up at him, eyes watering.
“Satou-san..”
Takanashi was giving him a menacing glare.
“Look, I- I’m sorry, okay? I haven’t spoken to Yachiyo in a few days, and Souma and Yamada were being shits, and I-”
“It’s okay, I understand. I miss her too.” Taneshima smiled, all flowers and sunshine again, and stood up. How the hell did she function with those mood swings? “Tell her I say hi.”
“Right.” Satou stood awkwardly for a second, not knowing what to say, then remembered Yachiyo was still on the phone in the other room. “Shit.” He stumbled backwards and ran back to the break room, picking his phone up off the table. “Yachiyo?”
“Did you say sorry?”
“Yeah. Taneshima says hi.”
“Good. I’m sorry for getting upset, I’m just worried about her.”
“No, you were right. I was an assh- a jerk. I should have considered your feelings.”
God, he could practically hear Yachiyo beaming through the phone.
“You’re too good to me, Jun.” Again, his stomach twisted into a fucking knot, and his face nearly melted off his fucking skull.
“What did I ever do to deserve you?”
Shit.
That wasn’t meant to be said out loud.
After years of hiding everything, his mouth was betraying him now. He mentally prepared himself for an awkward silence followed by the harsh beeping of Yachiyo hanging up.
Instead, she responded.
“Don’t say things like that. I- I love you , okay? For the longest time I didn’t know what that was, I didn’t know how I felt, but I do now, because of you. So-” she stuttered and stopped briefly - “so… you don’t need to do anything to deserve me. I’m with you because I want to be, because I love you.”
If it was in knots earlier, his stomach just won the fucking Scout badge for it.
“I- yeah, me too. Uh. You, not me. You know.”
“Eh?” Fuck, she’s going to make me say it, isn’t she?
“I… I feel the same. About you. You know, loving you and stuff.” He plonked his head unceremoniously onto the table. Yachiyo’s quiet laughter wasn’t much helping his embarrassment.
“I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of hearing you say that,” Yachiyo said softly. Muffled shouting in the background broke the comfortable silence between them. “Ah, one of my new coworkers needs my help. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
“Yeah, okay. Bye.” The dial tone beeped and he flipped his phone shut. Checking the time on the wall clock, he saw he had a couple of minutes left on his break. Enough time for another cigarette. Tapping one out of the box, he realised he’d have to buy more soon. He didn’t miss the near-silent footsteps of Souma sidling into the room.
“Your break’s nearly over.”
“Yeah. Nearly,” he replied pointedly. Souma sat next to him and gazed intently at the smoke. It pissed him off.
“What, do you want one?”
“Nah, I have asthma.”
“So do I, it’s never stopped me.”
Souma stretched his legs out under the table. “What does Todoroki-san think of you smoking?”
“Hell if I know. Don’t stick your nose in.”
“If she asked you to quit, would you?”
“Maybe? I don’t know. She never cared before. What’s it matter to you, anyway?” Irritated by his wheedling, Satou purposely blew the smoke into Souma’s face until he had to look away and rub at his eyes.
“That hurt! Anyway, am I not allowed to be interested in my dear friend and his girlfriend?”
“Creep. Get your own girlfriend.”
“That would require social skills.”
“Of which you have none, got it.” He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, stretched his arms above his head and stood up. “Come on, loser, we’ve got work to do.”