Work Text:
*yo open this in a new tab to listen to 'but not for me'*
Every single weekend, he’s there.
Every. Single. Time.
Why is that?
They’re writing songs of love
But not for me
It’s not like the bar he happens to work part-time at is a huge hit with anyone in town. It was more of the place to crash when tipsy old men spent too much time with their glasses of booze until the bar owner kicked them all out. But as long as people do buy a few drinks every now and then, it makes some decent money for him.
Other than that, there’s absolutely no reason for anyone to sign up to perform live on the pub’s little creaking stage to sing old jazz with a whole crew consisting of a pianist, a drummer, a trumpet player, and a guy on bass.
Frankly, to Tsukishima Kei, it was annoying, for a multitude of reasons.
It definitely took a few performances before they actually got anywhere, but once they started coming, it was like every female in a fifty-foot radius came flocking through the doors the second the black-haired vocalist cleared his throat into the microphone. At first he was convinced it was because of the same cheesy opening line at the start of every show:
“Yo, ladies and gentlemen- but mostly ladies. How’ve you all been doing tonight?” Then he’ll take the hand of a girl nearby and press a kiss to the top of it. “It’s made my night just to see your faces.”
After that, any existing woman is then degenerated to a blushing schoolgirl while Tsukishima rolls his eyes at the back of the bar. Since then, there was barely even enough room to walk, more or less breathe through the crowd of girls pulling their chairs up to the stage. It is literally impossible to describe how much he doesn’t want to mop the floors when there is music playing in the pub.
“Just doing my job,” He mutters under his breath in response to the shushes and condescending looks from the women he pushes through.
A lucky star’s above
But not for me
Tsukishima always tries to occupy himself as much as humanely possible while he’s on night shift. After all, there’s no way he’d just stop and stare to watch that weird band perform and click away at their instruments and listen to that vocalist with the wild black hair that looks a little too much like an untamed lion mane. But at the same time, he’s sort of okay with that image. ‘Wild’ is probably one of the best words to describe him; he’s like a tornado.
When he’s not busy wiping the tables or mopping the more uninhabited side of the bar, he’ll go behind the counter and start cleaning out some of the cups still left in the sink. Unfortunately, the only thing left for him to do at that stage is listen to his music, which worked effectively while they were performing. The whole point of the oversized white headphones is to block out the world and all its vibrations, which works pretty well on night shifts. The boss doesn’t mind too much either, as long as he doesn’t wear them when he’s actually serving people.
That is, until the day his phone died in his pocket and a string of quiet curses could barely be heard from behind the bar counter. It almost felt like he was being tortured, having to listen to that guy’s singing against his own will when he’d much rather be listening to his own personal preferences.
He tried his best to tune out those damn drums and the voice, he really did. But as experience tells him, he’s quite defenceless without his presence headphones. So he ended up listening a bit. And it was sort of good. Just a little. Nothing more.
After that incident, he started bringing regular earbuds to work. And sometimes he’d only leave one in and leave the other by his neck. But only sometimes. It’s not like the vocalist with the stupid hair had a nice voice or anything really worth listening to. Not at all.
With love to lead the way
I’ve found more clouds of gray
Than any Russian play
Could guarantee
Speaking of which, he did take up quite the spotlight while on stage. Sure, the other members were definitely there, but he just seemed to stand out the most. The way he’d sway along to the beat, occasionally lean on the piano or nudge a band member when they pulled a particularly risky riff. The way he’d twirl the microphone cord around his fingers every once in a while or reach out a hand to someone in the audience. The way his sly eyes would give a grin of their own the second the drum hit its last beat.
Tsukishima had noticed more that he’d liked to. He hated that.
Everything about him was absolutely irritating. Irritating, irritating, irritating-
And yet here he was, tapping his foot and waiting for said vocalist to finish his damn martini that he specifically requested have a little umbrella on the side.
Again. Irritating.
The blonde sighed. Of all people to be left here, it had to be him. The rest of the bar was almost completely empty at this point save a few people who had fallen asleep on the tables- the manager would deal with them later. To be honest, he was in quite the predicament. After serving this bastard he would be able to dump the dishes into the sink and just head home, but he seemed to be taking his time drinking it while sitting directly in front of him at the bar counter. The rest of the band members had gone home for the night, apparently, and the vocalist had spent enough time with the girls to get most of them to back off with promises of coming back again next Saturday.
I was a fool to fall
And get this way
Even so, as Tsukishima idly dragged a cloth across the already-clean counter, he couldn’t wait for him to just get up and leave. He’d been staring at him for what felt like ten hours under the hazy light from the bar.
It was completely unlike him to start conversation, but amber eyes flickered to the figure across from him. “If you keep booking performance times every Saturday night, one of these days you’re going to be assaulted by a mob of drunken women at two in the morning.” He points a glare at him and his stupid martini upon remembering how many times he’d seen his name scribbled on the calendar next to the stage. “Kuroo-san.”
“Hmmm?” Said man hums in response and fixes his gaze on Tsukishima, using one hand to hold his glass and the other to loosen his black tie even more. “Do I detect worry-” He leans across the counter and squints a little bit to stare at his name tag. “Tsukishima-kun?”
“Whatever sensors you’re using are definitely broken.” A hand brings down a glass a little too hard into the sink, causing a loud clinking noise. “Dealing with the interviewers asking for the details of your death would be a pain. And it would give a bad reputation to the bar amongst the female customers.” Just as he thought, he’s as irritating as he looks.
Hi ho alas and also lackaday
“Suppose so, huh?” The black-haired vocalist chuckles and rests an arm on the table with a grin. “Wouldn’t want your pay to be cut short.”
“Exactly.” He’s glad that he’s able to respond to his remarks without skipping a beat. “So please hurry and finish your drink and I can go home for the night.”
“This a one-night jig or something? You come here often?”
That smirk won’t leave his face, and Tsukishima can nearly feel the vein popping out of his forehead before huffing and scrubbing at the cups a bit more violently. “I happen to work here, so yes. Please hurry and finish your drink.” First he takes ten minutes to get halfway through his martini and now he starts questioning his aptitude to work in a bar part-time? God, all he has to do is finish the damn martini-
He’s still not amused by the rather loud laughter coming from the other side of the counter and the wave of his hand. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You work here weekends, right? You’re almost always working in the background during showtimes if I remember right. You’ve got height.”
At this, he shifts a little in his apron and breaking Converse. He’d noticed Kuroo since the first times he started coming, but he hadn’t known it went both ways. Well, it was only natural once he’d been here so many times.
“Yes, I work on weekends.” Tsukishima replies curtly before grabbing another cloth to dry the cup in his damp hands. “Are you finished with your drink yet?”
Much to his chagrin, his question is completely ignored, followed by: “I see, I see. The name’s Tetsurou, by the way, twenty years old. Nice to meet you. I was planning on introducing myself a while back, but I never got around to it.” He leans his chin into his palm, and it suddenly dawns on him how much he looks like a cat. “So? What do you go by?”
“You read my name tag.”
“Your name tag doesn’t give out your full name and age, does it?”
“I don’t give my full name and age to vocalists who are going to get me sued if they get attacked for going home too late at night.”
That cunning grin sneaks onto his lips again, and he stirs his drink slowly while keeping his eyes on Tsukishima. “I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem if you came with me, Tsukishima-kun.”
His body involuntarily jerks in shock before realizing the current situation, which was then reacted to by a strange heat rushing to his face. Was it through anger? Most likely, there’s no way he would ever feel embarrassed from this guy, of all people. Luckily he managed to fight down the reaction before it was noticeable, but he still felt like this Tetsurou would have caught even the slightest hint of a response.
Instead he heaves out a sigh and pushes up his glasses. “Are you deliberately trying to provoke me, Kuroo-san?” Another cup is forcefully wedged into the dishwasher, his fingers turning white from how tightly they’re closed around the glass.
“Hah, me? No way. I’m like this with everyone.” He casually says, and finally tips the glass to drink the rest of the martini still sitting in it. “But you know, I really dowish you’d tell me a little bit about yourself. It’s common courtesy, isn’t it?”
“I’m not obliged to tell you anything while I’m still on working hours.” It’s getting harder and harder to put up with this guy by the second, and he all he hopes for in the world is for him to just leave already.
“Ah, you have a point there.” Again, he uses two fingers to loosen his tie even though the two top buttons are popped open and revealing his collarbones. “How about we talk about it when you’re off the clock?”
Thoroughly at the end of his rope (though he was since that guy sat down), he closes his eyes with an aggravated frown and reaches for the now-empty martini glass. “No matter how you try to negotiate, you’re not going to convince me to-”
Tsukishima cuts off his own sentence when he looks up to see Kuroo leaning back with the glass between his fingers, waving it teasingly with the umbrella still sitting on the edge. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you just then.”
His eye twitches. The blood in his veins is nearly going to boil if this guy doesn’t get the hell out of the bar, and soon.
“Tsukishima Kei. I’m going to be nineteen in September.” He grits out, still not letting up his deathly glare. “Please give me your glass, now.”
The other man lets out a whistle, seeming to finally be satisfied when he got him to talk. “As you wish.” With that, he slides the glass to him, which he swiftly picks up. The blonde is just about to turn to the sink and say goodnight-
When suddenly a hand is pulling at his collar and tugging him over the counter.
His eyes are open the whole time, but it feels like he’s not registering any movement correctly. The dim lights of the bar blur together and his senses finally wake up again when he feels a pair of lips crashing against his own and a strange heat spreading throughout his entire body.
When it finally sinks in that this vocalist, a stranger, is kissing him for no reason at all; it doesn’t bother him as much as he thought. Sure, his eyes are wide and he’s not sure if he just dropped the martini glass, but that’s not what gets him flustered.
The taste.
It’s a slightly sweet and sour taste, and without even realizing that it was from the remnants of the martini left on the vocalist’s lips, it makes everything inside him boil and burn with embarrassment and he can almost swear that his stomach is turning purple from it-
And then he pulls away.
In a split second the warmth flees from his face, and all that’s left is his gawking face as Kuroo slings his jacket over his shoulder and leans in one last time to huskily whisper into his ear:
“Thanks for the info, Kei.”
And just like that, he walks out of the bar without even taking his change.
Tsukishima needs a few seconds to recover from what just happened, and to collect his thoughts. It’s painfully obvious and straightforward what he just did to him, but he feels almost violated somehow. Where did it come from? Technically he was still underage, he wasn’t supposed to drink, and yet… it’s still there. The taste is still lingering on his lips.
All he can do when he notices that is slap a hand over his mouth and try to control the red that’s rapidly spread across his cheeks. How many people were just watching…? He checks. Two women were facing away from him at the moment, and the other four are still asleep or drowsily playing cards. But if he were to pull another surprise attack again, there’s no guarantee that he’ll be as lucky next time.
With a bit of a groan, he pulls off his smudged glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose to try to will his heart to slow down.
“That irritating son of a…” He mutters under his breath, before grabbing the glass angrily. The tiny umbrella he specifically requested drops to the counter, and while mentally swearing at everything he sees some sort of scribbling on the inside.
No.
He didn’t.
He’s ashamed to admit that he’s almost frightened as he turns the paper umbrella inside out.
‘Call me ;)’
Even though he should have been washing the dishes and going home, he spared a minute to lean his head into his hands with his elbows resting on the counter, eyes shut and his head whirling with mixed emotions.
Although I can’t dismiss
The memory of her kiss
I guess she’s not
If there was anything he knew for sure about him, it was that Kuroo Tetsurou was a very irritating man.
She’s not for me.