Work Text:
The first time it happened, Izayoi nearly died of fright.
As a baker, Izayoi was used to total silence as she worked. It wasn’t even dawn yet when she let herself into the small bakery and started her usual routine: preheat the ovens, start the comically oversized industrial mixers, cut the fruit that topped the breakfast tarts. So when she heard the little bell above the door jingle just as she started sculpting a strawberry her heart stopped entirely.
Taking the small paring knife with her, she slowly walked towards the lobby where a tall, thin man was sniffing at the empty display cases. She flipped on the overhead lights, startling the man so badly he fell on his ass with a shout, then a giggle, then laid flat on his back and roared with laughter.
Ah, a drunk.
Izayoi shook her head at her own foolishness at leaving the door unlocked, but at least the man, no, the demon — his amber eyes and white hair were clear indicators of his inuyouaki blood— seemed like a harmless happy drunk and not the scary, angry type. The longer she watched him lay on the floor and laugh at the ceiling, the more familiar he seemed. Izayoi didn’t usually run the register, but she’d been working there long enough to recognize most of the morning regulars. She decided he must be one of them, and was just too drunk to realize he was a little early to get his usual order.
“We’re closed sir, you need to leave.”
“But I own this place.”
Izayoi rolled her eyes, “If you own this place then you know we don’t open til 6.”
“But it smells so nice, and I need coffee. Didn’t you make the coffee yet?”
Izayoi rubbed her temples, she would need to chug some coffee if she had to keep dealing with this guy. She could call the cops, but that would be an exceptionally crap start to her day. She sighed.
“If I get you some coffee and a bagel from yesterday will you leave?”
The man tried to stand up before thinking better of it and dropping back to the floor with a thud, “As soon as the floor stays still, yeah.”
“Just don’t throw up, I don’t want to have to mop.”
She went back behind the counter, focusing on the drip drip drip of the coffee maker and not the drunken mumblings on the man still on the floor about how she was going to burn the coffee and get fired.
Once she had enough to fill up the little paper cup she quickly grabbed an everything bagel, only to have to put it back as drunky whined that poppy-seed was better. She couldn’t decide if she was impressed or annoyed that even drunk as a skunk his youkai strength senses were still working just fine.
She took the coffee and bagel and put them on the floor next to him before making a beeline back to the mixer she’d left on for several minutes longer than it needed. When she got back to the lobby he was gone, a small pile of cash on the floor where the coffee had been. Izayoi shrugged and pocketed the coins, deciding they counted as her tip for not ruining the owner’s day by making them come fill out police reports at 4am. She didn’t think anymore of it as she went back to work.
Until the next morning.
Izayoi was running late, a not terribly uncommon trait of hers since all-nighters working on history papers were a standard part of her life now. She walked briskly down the dark street before coming to a screeching halt to avoid stepping on a familiar head of stark white hair that was laying on the sidewalk and sniffing at the gap between the locked doors.
She crossed her arms and bit back a laugh. The man was dressed in a suit that probably cost more than her monthly rent and yet there he was, four sheets to the wind before dawn, pawing at the locked door like a sad puppy.
He finally realized she was standing there and how whole face lit up.
“Finally! You’re late and I need so much coffee…”
“You’re not my boss,” she huffed.
“I am actually,” he said with a lopsided grin.
“Then I need a raise for dealing with you,” she teased as she pushed him aside so she could unlock the door. “Why didn’t you just unlock it yourself?”
“Forgot my keys.”
“Sure, sure Pretty Boy,” she said as she pushed open the door far enough for him to stumble in, accepting that having drunken company while she worked was apparently going to be A Thing now.
It remained a thing for nearly a month, and though she would be loath to admit it outloud, she didn’t hate having someone to talk to during her usual solo work time. After two years the kneading and mixing and cutting was very much routine, and having someone there wasn’t all bad.
Though she never knew what she was going to get.
Depending on his level of inebriation, he could be a horrible flirt:
Or a chatty, introspective downer:
And while he usually wanted to talk about her, she did get some unexpected insights into his life outside of their early morning together:
“Did you know I made up my own surname?”
“You what?”
“My name. We didn’t use to have them, demons didn’t really take on the custom until after humans had already done it for centuries… so all of a sudden one day I had to have one. I used to have a fancy title, but nobody cared about that anymore so I made it a surname instead.”
“What was your title, grandpa?”
“The Inu no Taisho. And I’m not even old… like 600… ish… I think? Give or take a century.”
“Well, General Grandpa, I’m surprised you’re such a lightweight after so much practice at drinking.”
“Stuff didn’t used to be this strong. Or taste this nice. Whiskey tastes nice.”
“Whiskey tastes like band-aids.”
“You would have been a princess.”
“What?”
“A hime! A beautiful baking hime! The princess of pies!”
Izayoi laughed as he continued to list off all the things she would have been princess of “back in his day”-- including but not limited to pies, beauty, and burning coffee.
But, at the end of her shift, she added Princess of Pies to her name tag.
Izayoi never mentioned her new normal to Akiko, the manager who came in at 6am to open shop. Since she was playing fast and loose with the rules (and pocketing the cash Drunkie Brewster left her every morning, which ranged from less than the cost of the coffee to almost her daily wage) she figured the less said the better.
It was a Tuesday when everything changed.
Izayoi stayed late, just ten minutes, but it was enough. As she gathered her things and rounded the counter to say goodbye to Akiko, a familiar voice stopped her dead in her tracks.
Izayoi was glued to the spot, her panicked self completely unable to move. Maybe if she stopped breathing he wouldn’t notice her? No; he may have been drunk but inuyoukai noses can't be fooled and his sense memory was absolutely going to screw her. He was going to realize it was her and fire her on the spot. Or make a scene about her unprofessionalism. Or hump her leg and she'd die from embarrassment.
None of the options were good.
It seemed to take ages for him to accept his coffee and replace his wallet in his back pocket. As he turned to face her, Izayoi felt her face go hot. But there was no scene, no awkwardness. He faltered momentarily when he finally made eye contact, a slight rigidity in his posture nobody else in the busy shop would have noticed. He politely dipped his head and softly whispered "Hime" under his breath as he walked past her and out to the street.
Now that the moment had gone Izayoi realized it had been… underwhelming.
She booked it after him. Now that she was confident she wasn't going to be fired she felt this was her opportunity to talk to the real him— or to at least use his name. But by the time she made it to the street, she saw a long black car driving away and she knew he was in it. He did own the building after all so he certainly had the resources for something like that. She stood on the corner for another minute before finally turning around and walking home.
When he didn't show up the following morning (which was later that night for him), she was more than a little disappointed, feeling like she'd lost a friend. He’d known who she was the whole time, and technically he’d never kept his identity a secret, she just didn’t believe him. But with the bubble of plausible deniability and playfulness popped, maybe he wasn’t interested in spending time with her anymore? She had her whole shift to think and reflect in peace and quiet.
She hated every minute of it.
On Thursday, when the overdoor bell jingled at 4:03am she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face.
He gave her a strange look, the thoughts behind his eyes muddled with whiskey, and shame, and something Izayoi couldn't even begin to process. She went back to work, and by the time the sandwich rolls were on their second rise Touga was back to his usual chatty self and she didn't think about her comment again for the rest of the shift.
She'd almost completely forgotten about her request to meet the 'real him' on Friday morning as she made her way to the bakery and was entirely shocked by two things.
One there was a large red sign taped to the door: The Early Riser Coffeehouse and Bakery will be closed Friday 13 August for an Employee Wellness Day. We will reopen Saturday at 6am.
Two, there was Touga standing upright and leaning gently against the brick. He was wearing jeans, the first time she'd seen him in anything other than his suit, and a crisp white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled at the elbows. His hair was tied in a neat high tail, and his usually puffy and cloudy eyes were clear with sobriety, sparkling like citrine in the soft, early dawn light.
Holy crap he was beautiful.
She stood there flabbergasted for just long enough for it to become awkward. Touga pushed away from the wall and cleared his throat much louder than was probably necessary.
"If you weren't serious, if you'd rather I leave--"
"No!" Izayoi felt color rush to her cheeks as she took several hurried steps to close the distance between them. "No, I just didn’t know you were really listening. And I don't want anyone to lose a day's wages just so I can have a date."
At Touga's amused grin she panicked and backpedaled, "I mean, not that this is a date. It's not even dawn and-"
"I'm the owner, remember? I can do stuff like this." He held out his hand, his clawed pinky finger extended away from his fist. "And everyone will still get paid today, promise."
Izayoi reached out and wrapped her pinky around his, gasping slightly as he snaked his hand around to clasp hers. He pulled her into step with him as he started walking down the street, their fingers interlaced in an easy embrace. With an unstoppable smile plastered on her face, Izayoi couldn't help but be glad that she was going to need a new job: she couldn't exactly keep dating her boss, but now that she had him, she had no intention of letting go.