Work Text:
Hajime scrubbed the residue from the whiskey glass with a thin white rag, then lifted it over his head to inspect the surface, using the refraction of the fluorescent lights in the crystalline surface to illuminate any specks he might have missed. Once he was satisfied that the glass was indeed clean, he set it beside the rest of the clean glasses before picking up the next dirty one, cleaning the soap residue away. While he used his thumb to push the rag against the sleek glass, he lifted his brown eyes to sweep across the bar, making sure he hadn’t missed any new customers while attending to his other chores.
The old man who’d been throwing back beers like water for the last hour was still going strong, smacking his lips lazily while he watched the volleyball game on the television hanging above the bar. The college student who’d been flirting with a sorority girl had apparently failed in his attempts at courtship because he was now sitting alone and grumbling into his hard cider. The pair of young moms who’d come out for a girls’ night had abandoned their martinis to sip at their waters, sobering up to return home to their children. The alcoholic who’d come in for his daily dose of bourbon was now passed out asleep, filling the air with loud, obnoxious snores. Hajime tipped his head at the bouncer, Issei, indicating it was time to wake the man up and call him a cab.
Hajime liked his job, all things considered. Though it was hard, and sometimes he had to deal with the most blockheaded of society, it was well worth it for the things he overhead. Working in a job like this, he had really come to appreciate just how colorful people were.
For example, those two moms were actually single moms— both of their husbands had perished in active duty, and they’d bonded over their struggles. He’d learned today that one of them actually had a date in a few days, and he’d congratulated her by giving them their first two martinis on the house. The sleeping drunkard had squandered his life savings gambling, leading to a nasty divorce, and now he just nursed his sorrows with alcohol instead. The gang of sorority girls giggling over margaritas in the corner was celebrating their finals for the semester, all congratulating each other on earning top marks. Hajime saw the highs and the lows of society, a rainbow of colorful folks from all walks of life.
Yet his eyes always drifted to the door when the most colorful of the bunch to frequent the bar strode in.
Tooru Oikawa smiled prettily at the waitress as she passed by carrying a tray laden with drinks, making her flush and hurry away as fast as her wedges could carry her. A few of the men watching the volleyball game at a table covered in empty glasses and the remnants of bar snacks raised their drinks to him, and he paused to chat amicably with them about the state of the game before bidding them a pleasant night. As he strutted across the bar, he shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over his shoulder, then rolled the sleeves of his button-up shirt to just below his elbows. Hajime couldn’t help the way he swallowed thickly at the way Tooru’s muscles gleamed in the lowlight of the bar— how did a pianist have such defined arm muscles, for crying out loud?
Tooru was the bar’s hired musician. He came in three nights a week— Ladies’ Night, their Friday Happy Hour, and Saturday Game Days— to provide live music via the large grand piano that sat on the small stage in the corner. His music was always a hit, and the regular customers liked his electric and charming personality— especially the waitresses, so Hajime always had to be extra vigilant in making sure they were actually delivering their orders instead of ogling at the pretty musician. Admittedly, Hajime was also a fair bit jealous and wanted to be the only one to stare at the handsome man, but like hell he would ever admit that aloud.
“You’re staring.”
Hajime nearly jumped out of his skin as Issei spoke. He shot a cold look at the taller man, making the bouncer tip back his head in laughter. Snorting, Hajime stomped over to the other end of the bar to tend to a customer, then walked back to begin mixing rum and various fruit juices into a glass. “You can’t blame me,” Issei purred as he leaned against the counter, his amused eyes watching the streams of alcohol and fruit juice cascade down into the glass. “Your pining over him is one of the few things that brings me entertainment.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not very entertaining to me,” Hajime gruffed back, shooting him a glare before carrying the rum punch over to the girl who’d ordered it. He snatched up another glass to begin cleaning it on the way back, still glaring at Issei. “Why do you always come over here to nag me about him?”
“Besides the fact that you look at him like you want to jump his bones?” Issei laughed, and Hajime threw his rag at him. Issei pulled it off his face and dropped it on the counter, and Hajime snatched it back up to resume cleaning the glass. “Come on, Hajime, it’s painful watching you pine over him. Just grow a pair and ask him out already!”
“Please,” Hajime snorted in derision, setting the clean cup down and picking up another. “A guy like that? You know he’s taken.” Someone at the bar called for another beer, so Hajime ignored the way that Issei’s eyes gleamed knowingly to grab one out of the freezer and carry it over to the man. When he came back, Issei was drumming his fingers against the wood of the counter, leaning his cheek in his hand while he gazed at Hajime like he knew something downright devilish.
“Come on, Hajime, you’re insulting my skill as a wingman,” Issei hummed. “I know for a fact that he’s single, and I know for a fact that he thinks you’re cute.”
Hajime’s face blazed bright pink, and he froze on the spot, struggling to process what Issei said. A girl came up to the bar pleasantly asking for a daiquiri, and it took Issei reaching forward to nudge his arm for him to snap out of his stupor. After hurriedly grabbing the ingredients and throwing him in the blender, he leaned over the counter to ask over the crunching ice and swirling fruit juice, “He thinks I’m cute?”
“ Very ,” Issei smirked with a meaningful wiggle of his eyebrows. Hajime’s gaze slowly drifted to Tooru, who was now sitting at the piano. Behind his glasses, his eyes were intensely focused, but a smile alit his lips as his fingers glided across the keys. Hajime had honestly never cared about the music; Tooru’s movements just seemed like magic every time he played, his body moving so languidly in rhythm with the sweet chimes of the keys. He forgot to blink, forgot to breathe even as he watched him, so he definitely forgot about the daiquiri. “Hajime, your drink,” the bouncer chuckled while snapping his fingers in front of Hajime’s face, making the ravenet jump slightly and hurry to finish making the drink before the girl’s pleasant attitude took a nosedive.
“Look, man,” Issei said when Hajime slumped back against the counter in front of him, pouting as he ruminated on whether or not to finally ask Tooru out. “If you don’t make a move soon, someone else will, and I shudder to think of how grumpy you’ll get watching him strut around with someone else.”
Hajime’s lips curled down into a frown just thinking about it. No, he would not enjoy that at all. Still, it was always a drag, asking someone out— even if Issei had given him a fair bit of confidence that Tooru wouldn’t refuse. He drummed his fingers on the table as he studied the wood grain of the counter in contemplation. Finally, he grumbled, “All right, all right, I’ll do it if it means getting you of my ass.”
“You wound me,” Issei huffed and splayed a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “I go to the trouble of wingmanning for you, and you treat me like this? You’re so cold.”
“Shut up and get back to the door,” Hajime said gruffly, shoving Issei lightly in the shoulder. Still, a smile danced on his lips, one that Issei didn’t miss. The tall man simply hummed “Good luck~” as he headed back to the door, leaving Hajime to figure out how in the hell he was supposed to ask a guy like Tooru Oikawa out on a date without looking stupid. Hajime was good at pretty much only one thing, and that was making drinks.
Wait. That might just be to his advantage, he thought, his gaze sliding to the bottles of liquor lining the back wall. He sidled up to the shelves, crossing his arms as he studied the various drinks; he then looked over his shoulder at Tooru, who was lost in the piano notes. Yeah… Yeah, I think that’ll do, he thought and looked back at the shelves, then leaned up to grab a bottle of vodka and some sour apple liqueur. I think this’ll do just fine.
Hajime approached Tooru as he was taking a break. The piano player straddled the bench, kicking his feet against the solid wood while he watched the volleyball game with interest. He saw Hajime approaching from the periphery, and when he turned to look at him, his eyes brightened with delight. It made Hajime’s heart stutter; half of him wanted to grin like mad, and half of him wanted to hurl the caramel apple martini in Tooru’s face for some inexplicable reason.
“Ooh? Is that for me?” Tooru crooned with delight when he saw the green drink in his hand. “I hope it isn’t a replacement for my paycheck,” he joked as he shifted on the bench, sliding over to allow room for Hajime to sit. Hajime gave Tooru the martini as he sat down, and he watched the brunet study the caramel swirls on the inside of the cup, the green liquid swirling within, and the apple slice garnishing the rim with more interest than he wanted to show. With a pointed look at Hajime, Tooru sipped at the martini, then pulled away while smacking his lips. “Wow. That’s a good drink, Mr. Bartender.”
“I thought you’d like it, Piano Man,” Hajime smirked. “You seem the type to enjoy fruity martinis.”
“Oh no, did the bouncer tell you?” Tooru said with a playful pout, leaning in a little close to Hajime’s face. He blushed on instinct, and looked at Issei to find him smothering a laugh with his hand. “That rascal ,” Tooru continued with a rumble in his voice that made Hajime’s nerves sing. “I thought I could trust him.”
“Issei?” Hajime huffed. “You can’t trust him as far as you can throw him.” His blase humor could always help him keep his cool. Thankfully, Tooru laughed, his eyes glittering as he studied Hajime over the rim of the martini. His nervousness returning, Hajime’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips. Immediately, Tooru’s eyes flicked down to his mouth and then back up to his eyes, and Hajime swore his face was going to catch on fire.
“Do you enjoy fruity martinis, Hajime?” Tooru asked, the mischievousness gleaming in his eyes belying the innocent tone of his voice. Body heat rising to uncomfortable levels, Hajime began tugging at the collar of his uniform shirt.
“I might be so inclined, depending on the martini,” he grumbled, looking away for a second. Of course, he couldn’t help but glance back at Tooru out of the corners of his eyes, and he was relieved to find a gleeful expression lighting up his face. “I can’t drink on the clock,” he continued slowly, “but I get off in an hour, if you’re willing to stick around and hang out in this dive for a while.”
“I’d love to,” Tooru hummed. He then tossed back the rest of the martini, squinting his eyes at the sour liqueur. Hajime thought he would hand the glass back to him, but while maintaining direct eye contact, Tooru licked every single bit of the caramel swirls from inside the glassHajime's mouth fell open as he unabashedly watched Tooru’s tongue slowly lap up the thick caramel syrup, so stunned that he didn’t even have the sense to blush. Chortling in a low voice, Tooru tapped the martini glass against Hajime’s cheek to indicate that he was finished.
“Better get back to work, Mr. Bartender,” he winked. Robotically, Hajime rose from the piano bench and took the glass before walking back to his work station. He chanced a look at Issei, and nearly hurled the glass across the room as the bouncer stuck out his tongue and wiggled it at him. Red-faced, embarrassed, and admittedly excited, Hajime dunked the martini glass into the sink of soapy water for the resident dishwasher to attend to before looking back at Tooru. He was back to playing again, eyes lidded and a smile on his face as his body swayed to the beat.
Tooru looked at Hajime from across the room, his smile widening until his eyes crinkled up, and Hajime couldn’t help but melt a little. I suppose I’ll have to thank Issei later, he thought with a small sigh, picking up his rag and another glass to begin cleaning again. Though I might punch him in the face first, he thought with a slight grimace when he noticed the bouncer slinking over, looking like he was ready to give Hajime all the hell he could offer.
“So? Did my wingmanning bear fruit?” Issei hummed. Hajime just snorted, scrubbing a particularly troublesome speck from the glass before lifting it up to the light.
“Please. The caramel apple martini was a way better wingman than you,” Hajime huffed, but he couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on his face. “Though I suppose you helped a little, so thanks.” Issei just snorted and mumbled something about how Hajime was an asshole, but he had a smile on his face, too.
The piano tunes continued to echo through the bar, a colorful melody for the colorful people drawn to this little hole-in-the-wall. Here, Hajime saw the best and the worst of society, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world— because it was the best place to be, he thought with a smile, dropping the glass to look at Tooru again. It was the best place to be.