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It starts, like all things tend to do, with a joke.
In everyone’s defense, it was their last year, which meant it would their last school festival, which meant that it since it was the last one, they should finish it on a high note.
Which meant that for once (and really, for once, shut up, Leda--) any and all ideas were accepted. Which also meant that even the stupid ones could get through.
Which...leads to his current predicament right now. Standing in front of a mirror in a maid dress.
He does have to give credit where it's due though. True to his word, the maid dress Astel shoved into his arms is of surprisingly good quality. Soft to the touch, and despite his initial concerns, it slipped over his head without much fuss, save for a little wiggling here and there. The black skirt tumbles past his knees, flows and sways when he turns to face the mirror, the apron glowing in the afternoon sunlight creeping into the dressing room. Even the shoes are of a perfect size, without a hint of wear or tear anywhere. New. He doesn't really know what to feel about it, but these were small mercies, nonetheless.
(The dress really could've been worse, he thinks, but Roberu isn't really sure if he dodged a bullet about that. Astel and Miyabi of all people had a surprisingly heated discussion for about two minutes before being unceremoniously shoved into the room with a paper bag by the shorter man. As the door shut behind him, Roberu swears he saw Miyabi visibly wither, muttering something about 'legs being justice' as he pouted.
Why was Miyabi so invested in this anyway? Wasn't he supposed to be helping out the neighboring class?)
Speaking of Astel, he can hear his voice through the door, in between knocks that are starting to sound like he's trying to imitate a woodpecker.
"Oiiii, Robe-chan~ Come out already so I can do your make-up already~"
"Wh--since when do I have to wear make-up!? Isn't it enough that I wear this?"
"No-pe." He can imagine the Cheshire grin on Astel's face as he replies. "A maid's gotta look super cute from head to toe, so we need to pretty you up so you can bring in the customers!"
Right. The reason why he has to wear this stupid dress.
Admittedly, he isn’t entirely against the idea. He lost (won?) fair and square. He looks…okay in it. Good even. For all of Astel's faults, he'd come through for him. All things considered, they weren't that bad.
The problem now, here, is what he has to do in it.
--
See, he thought that his role was obvious enough. No one in their right mind trusted him near a stove (which felt like an insult but also not), so it was to be serving customers and playing receptionist. Simple enough.
How wrong he was. So, so wrong.
After what feels like the world's longest hour, Roberu trudges his way back to the main entrance, his face a near permanent shade of peach. He's learned a lot about just how creative people can get, and by god, it is terrifying.
"Cheer up a little, Robechan." Astel says from the makeshift receptionist desk, passing over a ticket to a waiting customer. "Didn't you say that you wanted to be surrounded by cute girls some day? Aren't you happy that your wish has finally been granted?"
"First off, I said that in freakin' middle school, so it's immediately invalid. Second, no one said this was going to be part of the plan!" Roberu snaps back, capping his water bottle a little harder than intended. "And if you were going to wear the other outfit anyway, then couldn't you do it?"
"I'm not the one who won the vote." The shorter man leans back on his chair, shit-eating grin only growing wider. "And you aren't one to go back on your word right? You want to win just as much as the rest of us, surely?"
Roberu glares half-heartedly at Astel, with no other customers to entertain, is now tapping away at his smartphone. "If we wanted to win so bad, wouldn't it make sense to use you instead? You're the one with the fan club - heck, you ended up wearing the other outfit too!"
(And rocking it way better than he is. Brat.)
"I bought them both, so of course I get to wear it." Astel responds, not even looking up from the screen. "But honestly Robe-chan, you can be sooo dense sometimes."
"Haah? What do you m--"
Roberu's retort is cut off by a yell from outside the rest area, and a brown head pops out from the temporary curtains.
"Oi, Roberu! The next wave of customers have been seated! Get out there and earn us some profits!"
Astel sticks out his tongue in lieu of a reply. Roberu flips him off.
--
Thankfully, they've gone past the lunch rush, so things aren't as hectic as before. He chats to customers, takes and serves orders, and gets into the groove of it. And occasionally face the teasing of some of his friends.
"So they really did go with that idea, huh."
Kageyama Shien beams up at him, his smile brimming with (non-malicious) mischief. He hadn't realized he'd dropped by to visit until he'd brought the order. Not that he isn't happy to see him.
"Well, apparently this is what they deemed as 'crowd-pleaser material', so..." He vaguely gestures as he sets down the plate of omurice in front of his junior. "Anyway, here you go, enjoy. I'm gonna head back firs--"
"Hold up, Robe-san." Uh oh. "Aren't you supposed to draw on the omurice for me, right?"
Well yes, but also no. After that one attempt to draw a cat on a trial plate, they'd decided that Roberu should not Do that and that the customers can do it themselves. Part of the creative experience, was the excuse they went with.
Roberu couldn't find it in himself to argue. So he tells Shien that much (because he is an honest man), earning yet another laugh from him.
"Alright, I don't want my food to be cursed by Came-chan, so instead how about you do that instead?"
"...Whuh?"
"You know, that scene in that one anime? You can do that, right? Oh, and do it in an actual cute voice, please."
"Wh--I--you...!"
Alas, he is bound by societal obligations and the contract looming above his head, so he takes a deep breath, wills his heart to still (it does not) and raises the bottle of ketchup.
"M-make it delicious - moe~ moe~ kyun~!"
Immediately he can feel his face heating up, willing his hands not to shake so hard as he signs the omurice (messily, but that's to be expected). He hears the sound of guests laughing in amusement, a few squeals of delight here and there, and god why is this the one thing that's actually making him embarrassed?
(He isn't able to process that just yet. But it will hit him soon enough.)
"...Happy now? I just threw down my whole dignity on the line for tha--"
Ah.
Ah.
And behold, Kageyama Shien. Haphazardly dressed in a mix of his gym clothes and play outfit (did he not have time to change before coming here?). His mouth slightly agape, pink bleeding into his cheeks...
...and currently spilling melon soda on the floor.
"O-oi! Shien! Your drink!"
"Eh--ah!?"