Work Text:
Atsumu has been working at his brother's coffee shop making pastries for a few years now. Osamu handles the business and networking, while Atsumu bakes the goods. Over the years, it's no surprise when Atsumu becomes pretty well known around the local university as the "Hot Baker."
Students flock to the shop in the early mornings just to take a peek at the blonde baker finishing up his morning rounds and setting out a new batch of pastries and muffins along the display case.
Atsumu becomes used to it; it's his routine. Come in late at night, plan and bake, set up shop, and leave for the day. He says hi to the early morning regulars, good evening to the late night stragglers, and brings his charm as high as it goes for the hours in between.
When the new school year starts, however, a newcomer begins coming in every morning for a nonfat latte and a blueberry muffin. He orders his breakfast as Atsumu sets up the freshly baked goods in the display case. And unlike most newcomers, this one lingers not just at the shop, but also on Atsumu's mind. And while a nest of curls and an exhausted slouch might not stick out for most people, Atsumu finds himself drawn to the mystery man.
At first Atsumu thinks he's an exhausted graduate student from the tired eyes and messy hair, papers sticking out of his bag and laptop constantly on hand.
Then one morning, a young girl comes up to him as he's grabbing his latte. "Sakusa-sensei! Are you still holding that study session tomorrow afternoon?"
The girl looks up at him with bright, eager eyes, and Atsumu can't help but smirk. Clearly he isn't the only one drawn to Sakusa-sensei.
The man grunts an affirmative and tells her she'll do fine either way. The girl nods and walks away with her friends, giggling into their to-go cups.
The next time Sakusa comes in, Atsumu strikes up a conversation with him. "So, what do ya teach, sensei?" he asks as he takes inventory of the display case while the man waits for his evening tea.
"Anatomy," he replies. Atsumu thinks the conversation stops there, but then, "You're the hot baker, right?"
Atsumu blinks, then smirks. He leans over the display case, laying an arm over it. "Ya think I'm hot?"
Sakusa-sensei blushes. "Ah," he stalls. "It's what my students call you. Though, I suppose they aren't wrong."
Atsumu lets himself laugh. "And I've seen the way yer students look at ya, sensei. They ain't wrong either," he smirks, leaving Sakusa staring at his retreating back.
One conversation evolves to several, and Kiyoomi (which he later learns is his name) begins to stay later and later, if only to complain about his workload and praise his students. In turn, he listens to Atsumu whine about his pushy twin and explore new flavors for his baked goods and pastries.
"--And then he told me t'screw off! I'm th'one bakin' the goods here!" Atsumu huffs angrily. He puts the icing bag down and places a pink cupcake on a napkin, pushing it across the counter towards Kiyoomi. "Anyway, try this. It's gluten and egg-free. These students are gettin' pickier and picker each year."
Kiyoomi takes a gentle bite of the pink cupcake, catching the crumbs with his palm underneath his chin. He nods approvingly. "Egg-free? It's good. What is this, strawberry?"
"Cherry," Atsumu replies, chest out with pride.
"You should add this to the menu," Kiyoomi replies.
Atsumu dismisses the thought with a wave of his hand. "Nah," he mumbles, tapping his finger on the counter. "Just experimentin'. Ya ever bake, Omi?"
Kiyoomi shakes his head. "I... honestly can't use an oven to save my life," he laughs awkwardly. He clears his throat when he sees Atsumu balking at him with disbelief.
"Oh, no. That needs to change right now," Atsumu says, walking to the other side of the counter and grabbing Kiyoomi's wrist. "What the hell d'ya eat fer dinner?"
"Um," Kiyoomi hums, letting himself be dragged toward the kitchen entrance. "Salads. Food from the konbini. Take out. Sometimes my cousin stops by with leftovers, but otherwise we'll go out," he says with a shrug. "Hey, is this allowed? Won't your brother be upset you're bringing someone who isn't staffed back here?"
"Samu can stuff it," Atsumu laughs, grabbing an apron and throwing it to Kiyoomi. "So let me teach ya the basics. D'ya know how to crack an egg?"
"I got a surprise fer ya," Atsumu grins one late Friday night, far past closing. The lights are dimmed and they're the only two at the coffee shop. Atsumu would usually be prepping the baked goods or restocking inventory, but instead, he returns from the kitchen with a bottle of Dom Perignon.
"Uh, where did this come from?" Kiyoomi asks, watching Atsumu pull out two paper cups. The blonde pops the cork and lets the expensive champagne pour itself into the cheap cups.
"The liquor store," Atsumu deadpans. Kiyoomi scoffs but takes the cup offered to him anyway. Atsumu raises his cup, "To the end of the school year. Ya made it!"
Kiyoomi smiles. "You're right. It's the end of the school year."
"What do ya do during the off season?" Atsumu asks quietly, unsure that he even wants to hear a response. Will he change jobs? Will he travel? Go on holiday with his significant other, whoever the lucky person might be?
"I have to start prepping for next year," Kiyoomi responds after a long sip. "I'll be teaching anatomy and heading the research seminar for the second years."
Atsumu takes a large gulp, letting the bubbles tickle his throat. "Congratulations," he replies, and he can't help but smile to himself.
They bask there in the silence, taking sips and making small talk about their plans for the weekend (Atsumu is working and Kiyoomi is taking a long-needed nap). Finally, Atsumu puts his empty cup down and straightens himself up, hoping he hasn't been reading the past six months incorrectly.
"Dance with me, Omi."
"I don't dance," Kiyoomi murmurs behind his paper cup.
Atsumu scoffs as he pulls out his phone, clicking on a song. It's slow, wistful, the singer's deep voice echoing throughout the empty shop. He crosses the barrier and pulls Kiyoomi up from his seat, hands finding his waist and fingers gripping his shoulders.
They sway to the beat, Kiyoomi burying his head into Atsumu's shoulder every time he accidentally steps on his shoe, feeling Atsumu shake with laughter at every blunder.
"Yer cute, Omi," Atsumu whispers as the song winds down. "I like ya. A lot."
Kiyoomi hums. "I like being here with you. Late at night, just us two."
"Me too." His heart thuds in his chest as Kiyoomi lifts his head from Atsumu's shoulder.
"Sometimes I pretend it's a date." He pauses. "Fuck, I can't believe I said that out loud."
A burst of laughter comes from Atsumu as he tightens his grip against Kiyoomi's waist. "Let's go on a real one then."
The next day, Kiyoomi takes his morning (now afternoon) latte and blueberry muffin at a certain blonde baker's apartment.