Work Text:
It’s a quiet saturday afternoon in Kura Antiques when Yagashira Kiyotaka snaps. It’s not a loud act, like a rubber band stretched out to its point of maximum tension before rebounding, but rather the subtle, almost missable crack of a delicate rick cracker being split in half. He’s reading a new textbook on the history of forged pottery when it happens; the day has been rather quiet, and he’s completely caught up in his coursework, so there’s not much else to do but relax with some light reading.
That’s when Mashiro Aoi comes in from the back, balancing a tea tray in one hand and her own homework in the other. He used to worry more about her pushing herself, but as long as she’s not handling any of the goods recklessly, he’s learned to let her go until she messes up. This time, the tea tray ends up flawlessly on the desk, and she pushes a cup over to him. It’s earl grey; he assumes they have nothing else in the cupboard, else she’d have made something with at least a bit more base sweetness. Either way, he thanks her and takes a sip, humming in approval at the taste. Ever since he had mentioned wanting to turn Kura into an antiques cafe, she had definitely started stepping up her brewing game, and it’s paying off in spades.
He’s about to return his full attention to his book - or at least the better portion of it, when Aoi is sitting next to him - but she speaks up, and he looks up at her as she talks. “Uhm, Holmes-san, are you free next week? It’s no problem if you’re busy, it’s just that Kaori-san and I were thinking of going to the new Vermeer exhibit, and I still have to treat you for your birthday . ”
She doesn’t have to ask twice. He had been planning on going to the exhibit anyways, being both an art appraiser and appreciator , so Aoi asking him to go with her- with them, is icing on the cake. However, the way she addresses him snags his enthusiasm just enough for his mind to dwell on it before replying.
Holmes-san. It’s something Kiyotaka has become used to being called by the countless others who have called him by his ridiculous nickname over the years, but every time Aoi does it, it grates on his nerves like a well-meaning scratch on a chalkboard. It hadn’t started that way, though- whether his irritation at the nickname is because of his attraction to her or vice versa, it’s all chicken and egg conjecture, but he’s well aware that the two are, at the very least, intrinsically linked.
And that chicken-egg, as it turns out, has decided to hatch on that very afternoon. The book in Kiyotaka’s hands closes shut with the smallest clap, garnering Aoi’s attention before his words do. “Could you do me a favor first?” Despite his dislike for the current situation, he still tries to act normal; in fact, he reckons the teasing smile on his lips probably does nothing to dissuade her long-standing opinion that Kyoto boys are absolutely nasty.
That doesn’t stop her from caving, of course. Kiyotaka likes to think he just has that effect on her. “What is it?”
“Please stop calling me Holmes. It’s very...impersonal.” he leans back in his chair, doing his best, but ultimately failing, to hide his smug satisfaction at the way a blush rises to her cheeks. There’s not harm in pushing further right now, right? “In fact, as your superior, I really do insist.”
She gapes at him for a moment, and he doesn’t blame her; he has never held their workplace hierarchy over her head until now, and it surprises Kiyotaka himself, even if he would never show it on his face. “You could just have said no,” she mutters, crossing her arms in front of her. “Teasing me like this really isn’t fair.”
He’d like to retort that her teasing him by being so cute isn’t fair either, but that treads far too close to blatant flirting for him to be comfortable with it. Whatever he personally thinks of her beyond being a coworker and friends remains firmly locked behind that bastard smile of his. Instead, he just laughs lightly and raises one finger. “I didn’t say no, I only set a condition. It’s a fairly simple one too, I believe.”
She frowns as she struggles between giving up and using his proper name, but there’s no malice behind it. He’s glad. He’s not glad, however, at her next words. “Fine. Y-Yagashira-san.”
Her hesitation is cute, he has to grant her that, but disappointment still settles in the pit of his stomach. “That’s my father, and his father.”
“It’s not,” she objects immediately, hands balling into fists at her side. “Manager is Manager and Owner is Owner. You’re Yagashira-san now.”
“Who’s Yagashira-san now?” As if on cue, Kiyotaka’s father, Yagashira Takeshi, appears on the staircase leading up to the storage room, carrying a notebook containing his latest draft. “Ah, sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”
Aoi turns the slightest bit redder, and Kiyotaka feels distinctly like the cat who has successfully caught the canary- or was that cream? Ah, both were fitting in this situation. He lets himself take another sip of the earl grey as Aoi leaps up from her seat to complain about him to his own father, tuning out of their conversation until his father finally absconds from the store for a meeting with his editor. Nothing they could have said would change exactly how satisfied he is at his father’s entrance at that very moment, anyways.
As the door to the store closes behind Takeshi and Aoi returns back to her chair, he returns his gaze to her. “Does that answer your question?” Her cheeks puff up, but she has no retort and they both know it, so instead of waiting for one, he just reiterates his request- or rather, exactly what he expects from her. “Ki. Yo. Ta. Ka.” He grants her a smile, and she looks away, muttering under her breath. He can’t hear her, but judging by her familiar expression, she must once again be complaining about his temperament as a ‘Kyoto boy’. At this point though, he knows she’s just complaining about him specifically, and he takes pride in that.
Aoi doesn’t say anything for a long time, and it takes a moment for a single seed of doubt to creep into him; had he actually pushed too far? Instead of pushing again, he lets her stew, returning to his book. If she simmers down and asks him again, he’ll gladly take the offer- if not, he’ll just accept the loss as a result of his impertinence. While it would be a blow to his pride, it’s definitely better than making Aoi actually hate him.
However, five minutes later and one chapter on types of clay used in the Heian period later, she surprises him by speaking out- he almost drops his book in the process, but catches himself in time as she finally - finally! - says his name.
“Kiyotaka...”
Yes, he verily approves.
“...san.”
He sighs inwardly, casting a strained smile down to the table. Well, at least it’s a start. “Will you go to the museum with me and Kaori-san now?” He looks up at her, vaguely hoping that the red stain across her cheeks is less embarrassment and something else, but sets the indecent thoughts aside to instead earnestly answer her question.
“It would be my honor to, Aoi-san. Just let me know what day works for you two; I’ll get Rikyu-kun to watch the store for me.”
“Thank you,” she says, and he has to pause a moment to make sure it’s not a hopeful figment of his imagination when she adds quickly, without honorific, “Kiyotaka.”
She turns away from him after that and promptly proceeds to bury herself in her homework for the remaining hours of her shift. If he hums while finishing up inventory at the end of the day though, well, this has nothing to do with that.
The next day, Aoi walks into work, and Kiyotaka’s smile is brighter than usual as she-
“Good morning, Holmes-san!”
-manages to act just as expected. He sighs and presses a hand over his chest, ignoring the disappointment beating through it. Whatever he had wanted, whatever barrier Aoi is still unconsciously putting up between them...
It’s still a work in progress.