Work Text:
Akaashi Keiji is the prettiest man Osamu has ever seen. His skin is so smooth it seems impossible, with dark, unruly hair that Osamu just wants to bury his fingers into. Even those square, black frame glasses lend a cute sort of bookishness to him that Osamu finds all consumingly attractive.
Akaashi Keiji is way out of his league and yet he’s agreed to go on a date with him, with Miya Osamu. Just a regular guy who makes onigiri for a living. Osamu wants to impress him, needs to impress him. To make sure Keiji doesn’t regret agreeing to this first date and maybe, just maybe, make him want to go on a second one.
But sitting here now across from Keiji at the fanciest restaurant Osamu could find with an open reservation in the next year, Osamu wonders if he isn’t in over his head with all of this. Keiji looks so uncomfortable and the silence between them is awkward and stretching on far too long to be normal. He’s fiddling with his shirt cuffs under the table and in any other situation Osamu would probably find that cute, but right now he’s busy trying to decide whether it’s too late to make a run for it before he makes an even bigger fool of himself.
“So…” Osamu begins awkwardly, nervously wiping away the condensation on the outside of his water glass.
Keiji looks up at him and Osamu is momentarily struck breathless by the intensity in his blue-green eyes. There’s a sharpness to Akaashi Keiji and Osamu wants nothing more than to throw himself across that bladed wit and charm.
“So?” Akaashi echoes, and Osamu’s heart gives a wretched little flip flop at the hint of a playful smirk on those pale pink lips.
He silently thanks whatever forces may be at work that Atsumu is not here to see him positively basking in the glory that is Akaashi Keiji. He would never live it down for the rest of his natural life.
“So… How have things been with the publisher? Are you still with the manga department?” Osamu asks with an internal wince.
Asking about work? That’s really the best he could come up with? Embarrassing.
Keiji doesn’t seem put off by the blandness of his question though. He looks thoughtful as he considers it, and Osamu drinks in every minute change in his expression and commits them to memory.
“It’s been going good. I’m still with the manga department, but there’s rumors that a spot will be opening up soon on the literature team and that I’m the front runner to fill that position, so hopefully I’ll get some good news soon,” Keiji answers finally, resting his chin on his palm and cocking his head to the side to study him. Osamu feels distinctly like a bug beneath a microscope as those intelligent dark eyes narrow ever so slightly. “I don’t think you asked me out tonight to talk about my work though, Myaa-sam..”
Osamu’s entire chest clenches at the affectionate nickname Keiji always uses for him, so much so that he almost misses the heat in his expression.
Almost.
Osamu swallows thickly and ducks his head in silent admission to Keiji’s point, dropping both of his hands onto his lap lest he give his own nervousness away by doing something dumb like knocking his drink over.
“You’re right, I’m just… I’m not sure how to do this. The dating thing, that is. I’ve never taken someone out to a place like this before,” he sighs, feeling embarrassed. K
eiji’s lower lip juts out slightly as he mulls that over, piercing aqua eyes still focused like lasers on Osamu.
“Then why did you take me out to a place like this?” He murmurs, and there’s a light, musical sort of amusement to Keiji’s voice that makes Osamu wish he could just disappear through the floor and never be seen nor heard from again.
Maybe it isn’t too late to go back in time and punch himself in the face before he works up the audacity to ask out Akaashi Keiji.
“I… Wanted to impress you, I guess. Someone like you I’m sure people are lining up to take you to fancy dinners and stuff and I just… I wanted you to see that I can give you that too?”
Keiji’s eyes widen by a fraction as if he’s actually surprised by the notion that he might be the most attractive person in the entire room. His cheeks fill with a soft pink and it takes every ounce of willpower and self respect Osamu has left to not throw himself down on the table and prostrate himself before the beauty that is Akaashi Keiji.
He finally tears that intense gaze away from Osamu and looks to the side, raising a hand up to his mouth. He seems… embarrassed. Shit.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Osamu groans, running his fingers through his hair and ruining the carefully curated side part he had spent so long on earlier that day. “I just didn’t want you to regret coming out with me tonight is all.”
Keiji looks back up at him again and that sharpness has returned to his gaze, but with a curious softness to the edge that Osamu doesn’t understand.
“Why would I regret coming out with you? I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out for months, Myaa-sam. Ever since you opened the Tokyo branch.”
It’s Osamu’s turn to blush and his brain struggles to process what he’s just been told. He gapes at Keiji like a fish out of water, attempting to regain his bearings and doing a very poor job of it. How is he supposed to function like a normal human being when Akaashi Keiji, the most beautiful man in all of Japan, the person Osamu has been crushing on for years, just told him that he likes him too?
“I– Um. That’s. Really?” Osamu fumbles, unable to stop the incoherent stream of words from spilling out of his mouth.
Keiji’s arm slowly lowers to rest on the table and Osamu can see that he’s smiling now, his face still as flush as Osamu’s feels. He nods, blue-green eyes finding Osamu’s once more and Osamu can see the sincerity in every inch of his body.
“Really. I don’t need to be wooed with fancy dinners or expensive things, and I don’t need you to try to ‘impress me’ by being someone you’re not. I’m just happy to get to spend more time with you,” Keiji says softly, and Osamu glances at the hand sitting on the table in front of him.
He’s just about to reach out for it and take it when their waiter interrupts them to set their food down, and Osamu fears the moment has been broken, except…
Except Keiji is still looking at him with that same immeasurable gentleness.
Osamu peeks at the dishes that have been settled before them. He had opted for a filet mignon, whereas Keiji had ordered the salmon. Small, round cuts of meat the size of a sand dollar are at the center of each small plate, dotted artistically but rather non functionally by some kind of cream sauce. Keiji hasn’t moved yet, not even to pick up his fork and knife. Instead he remains still and silent and completely focused on Osamu, as if waiting for him to tell him what to do.
And Osamu finally understands.
“Keiji-kun…” he murmurs quietly, reaching out and carefully settling his hand over Keiji’s. Keiji’s smile widens by a fraction as if he already knows what Osamu is about to say.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
Osamu feels like a teenager again when they hurry out of the restaurant, muffling their laughter into the hands not currently clasped together. He feels guilty about skipping out on their meal, but he’d put down enough cash to cover the bill and a generous apology tip for the waiter, so it isn’t like they’re doing anything bad despite how thrillingly illicit this all feels.
“So, Myaa-sam… Where are you taking me for our date?” Keiji asks him, ducking his face into his scarf to try and hide his smile.
It doesn’t work and Osamu basks in the knowledge that he’s the one that made Akaashi Keiji smile so brightly.
“I think I know a place,” he hums, and Keiji allows him to lead them both back the way they came.
Keiji doesn’t seem displeased when they end up at the front entrance of Onigiri Miya’s new Tokyo branch. Far from it he actually looks delighted, following Osamu into the restaurant and sinking into the booth at the far corner. It’s the same booth that Keiji eats his lunch at almost every single day, the one that Osamu’s regulars have affectionately dubbed “The Boyfriend Booth” despite his protests that he and Keiji aren’t together.
“How did you know this is my favorite restaurant in town?” Keiji teases gently, watching as Osamu comes out from the kitchen with a tray full of various onigiri he had originally made to open with tomorrow.
He’ll have to get up early to make some more, but he already knows it’s worth it from the way Keiji’s face lights up with excitement.
“A lucky guess,” Osamu chuckles, sliding into the booth across from Keiji and trying to keep the affection from showing on his face too plainly when Keiji carelessly rucks up the sleeves of his nice sweater and plucks an onigiri from the platter.
He has round hamster cheeks within seconds and those razor sharp blue-green eyes fall shut as he savors the taste of Osamu’s cooking. He thinks Keiji looks the most beautiful like this, when he’s happy and enjoying what he’s eating.
It’s nice having someone to be with that appreciates food as much as Osamu does.
They eat in silence that is no longer uneasy because this time it’s a silence born of contented companionship. Osamu feels more comfortable, more in his element at Onigiri Miya, and less like a small fish struggling to swim in a large pond. Keiji seems relaxed as well and isn’t holding himself with the same awkward reluctance that he had been at the other restaurant.
He eats with enthusiasm and Osamu watches him, smiling to himself when Keiji ends up with rice grains on his chin after taking a particularly large bite of his tuna mayo onigiri. It’s adorable. He’s adorable, and as Osamu reaches out to brush the rice from Keiji’s face those round hamster cheeks of his fill with fresh color.
“I like watching you eat my food. Somehow you make it look like it’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten,” Osamu teases and Keiji’s brows furrow as if he doesn’t understand what Osamu just said.
He swallows his mouthful with some difficulty and then puts the onigiri down, cocking his head curiously at him in a way that Osamu finds gut wrenching endearing.
“That’s because it is the best thing I’ve ever eaten, Myaa-sam. I don’t eat at Onigiri Miya for lunch every day just because I’m fond of the owner,” Keiji laughs and Osamu nearly bites through his lip to keep from grinning like a lunatic.
“You don’t? That breaks my heart, Keiji-kun,” he sighs forlornly, causing Keiji to roll his eyes at his dramatics.
Blue-green eyes narrow slightly at him and Keiji props his chin up against his palm, considering Osamu for a quiet moment before the corners of his lips turn up in a smile.
“Well, it isn’t the only reason I come here, then,” he relents finally. “You see, I hoped that by hanging around more often I might be able to trick the owner into asking me out, but then the food was so good that I couldn’t help but keep coming back even though day after day went by and he still hadn’t asked me.”
Keiji levels him with a challenging stare and Osamu has the decency to at least feel properly chagrined. It had taken quite a long time to find the courage to ask him out.
“You just seemed so… out of reach. You’re so beautiful, and so smart, and so amazing, Keiji, and I’m just… Well. I’m just me, I guess. I was afraid you would say no if I asked you, but I was also afraid you would say yes because I wasn’t sure if I was worthy of you,” Osamu admits and Keiji’s expression softens slightly.
“I’m just a person, Myaa-sam. And I happen to like the you that you are right now. Not the flashy Osamu that took me to an expensive restaurant and tried to impress me by pretending to be something he isn’t. I’m not the kind of person that deserves to be put upon a pedestal. I get grumpy in the morning until I have my first cup of coffee. My assistant has a drawer full of snacks and cup noodles because I regularly forget to eat when we’re close to a deadline. I hate folding laundry and I can’t soft boil an egg to save my life. I promise, I’m not half the man you’ve built me up to be in your head.”
Osamu blinks at Keiji but he feels surprisingly mollified by the speech he was just given. Just treat Keiji like he always treats him?
He can do that.
“What’re the chances of me convincing you to call me ‘Osamu’ more often?” he asks numbly, flushing red when Keiji bursts out in laughter.
It sounds like church bells and Osamu frantically commits it to memory, desperately wishing to replay this moment later once Keiji has gone.
He did that. Miya Osamu has made Akaashi Keiji laugh and smile and blush tonight.
“Maybe next time, Myaa-sam,” Keiji responds and there’s a wicked, teasing mirth to his tone that Osamu knows he’ll never get tired of hearing.
It’s getting late by the time they finish eating and Keiji reluctantly, or maybe Osamu just hopes it’s reluctance in his voice, admits that he needs to go home so he can sleep before work tomorrow. They’re standing outside the restaurant waiting for Keiji’s cab to arrive when Osamu finally throws caution to the wind and suddenly turns to face him.
“Keiji, are you free next weekend?” he asks in a rush, blushing when Keiji smiles at him so sweetly that his eyes crinkle at the corners. Osamu wants to kiss every single line and freckle on his beautiful face.
“Why, Myaa-sam. I’d almost swear you’re asking me out on a second date,” Keiji croons and his voice rumbles through Osamu’s entire body, filling him with electricity.
“If I were, what would you say?” Osamu whispers, desperately hoping against hope for a happy answer.
Keiji reaches out to toy with the zipper pull on Osamu’s jacket, purposefully avoiding Osamu’s gaze and heightening the nervous buzzing in his brain.
“Mmm… I think I’d say yes. But only if you make me a promise.”
Osamu’s heart leaps into his throat and he encases Keiji’s hand between his own, gripping it tight in an attempt to show Keiji how much he means what he’s saying.
“Anything, Keiji-kun. Anything you want. I’ll make you onigiri for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all you have to do is ask.”
Keiji snorts and when he finally looks up and meets Osamu’s gaze there’s affection glittering in those impossible ocean eyes that Osamu just wants to drown himself in.
“No more of that. No more grand gestures. No more fancy, overpriced restaurants. And no more trying to be someone that you’re not. You don’t need to woo me. I’m already wooed,” Keiji murmurs, and it’s Osamu’s turn to snort in amusement.
They’re standing so close now that Osamu can almost count his eyelashes. He leans into Keiji and carefully laces their fingers together, gently rubbing his thumb in circles against the soft skin of the back of his hand.
“I promise, Keiji-kun,” Osamu says softly, and he can feel the gentle puffs of Keiji’s breathing and the brush of his lips when Keiji speaks.
“Then it’s a date, Osamu.”
And the shape of his name in Keiji’s mouth is sweeter than anything Osamu has ever tasted in his entire life.