Chapter Text
Working in a coffee shop isn’t exactly the most glamorous job in the world, but it works for Kiyoomi. It came as a shock to his family, especially his cousin, Komori, when he told them he was working in a nice little cafe.
“You, in a cafe? I never thought I’d see you in a customer service job, let alone one where you’re dealing with food and drinks all day. Plus, it’s not like you need the money.”
Kiyoomi had just shrugged. “Why does it matter? They require the staff and work areas to be clean, anyway.”
In all honesty, he liked the job. He liked the smell of coffee and the free tea he received every day just for coming to work. He didn’t hate his coworkers. And while customers could be annoying, he didn’t really seem to mind them either.
That is, until the day a certain blonde walked through the doors.
“Good morning!”
His smile was bright, almost blindingly so, and something about it made Kiyoomi feel both warm and annoyed.
“Hello, what can I get you?”
“A large caramel latte with two extra pumps of espresso, one less pump of caramel, half the amount of whipped cream and an extra drizzle of caramel, please.”
Kiyoomi blinks, his brow furrowing, though he doesn’t comment. The blonde does notice, however.
“What, too sweet for ya?”
“Since you asked? Yes.”
“Tsk. Gotta lighten up, Omi-kun!”
It takes a moment for the nickname to sink in. “What did you call me?”
“Ya heard me, Omi-Omi! Now, what do I owe ya?”
“Don’t call me that.”
Kiyoomi can feel his face heat up as he collects the money, directing the blonde to the end of the counter. The warmth of the fluorescent lights above only illuminate how warm his face is.
He’d just about forgotten about the encounter when he hears a loud “see ya tomorrow, Omi-kuuun!” from the front door.
Every day that Kiyoomi works for the next week is much of the same, though he learns a bit more about the blonde each time. He learns his name is Miya Atsumu (“call me Tsumu!” “Sure, Miya.” “Yer no fun, Omi-Omi!”), he’s currently in college on a volleyball scholarship and taking English courses in the meantime, and that he’s a big fan of Taylor Swift. None of the information had been asked for; Atsumu seemed to give it freely, trying to crack through Kiyoomi’s "grumpy hardass" exterior.
It was infuriating.
His coworkers were immediately on Atsumu’s side, teasing Kiyoomi with side comments and stepping away from the register when Atsumu walked in to Kiyoomi would have to take him. Part of him wondered if he could sue for discrimination, because clearly they hated him, right?
It’s a few weeks later when Atsumu walks in, his head hung low as he approaches the counter. The usual warmth that he brings isn’t there, and it feels… wrong.
“Miya?”
“Hmm?” His head snaps up, eyes red, a small smile on his lips. “Oh. Hey, Kiyoomi-chan. Could I have a hot chocolate, please?”
For reasons he can’t quite explain, Kiyoomi feels his blood run cold.
“... Kiyoomi-chan? Hot chocolate? What’s going on with you?”
Atsumu shrugs, and Kiyoomi hates it. This isn’t the Atsumu he’s grown used to.
“M’fine, don’t worry about me. Just finals week, and I feel like I can’t focus on anythin’ other than not wantin’ to fail. But no matter how hard I study, I just feel like I still don’t retain any of it.”
The rambling is familiar and oddly heartening, Kiyoomi nodding a bit as he begins the order. “Maybe you’re burnt out and you just need to take a day and rest.”
“I don’t have a day, omi!”
There it is. “Fine, an evening, then. Get dinner with your friends - if you have any -”
“Hey!!”
“- or go home and take a bath, rest up. Give your brain and yourself a break. You’ll be thankful you did so later.”
Atsumu blinks at him in surprise, and Kiyoomi realizes he’s probably spoken more today to the blonde than he has the entire month and a half they’ve known each other.
“That’s… actually good advice. I didn’t know ya were so smart!”
“I’m a fount of useful information. Now, here. It’s on me today, go and rest up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Atsumu takes the cup, fingers curling around it, and Kiyoomi doesn’t miss the red flush on his face. He’s suddenly aware that his own cheeks are on fire as well.
“See ya around, Omi-kun. Thanks for the advice! I’ll tell ya if it works.”
The door closes, and the collective “ooooooooooooooooOOOOHHH” from his coworkers doesn’t even phase Kiyoomi… much.
He’s too focused on amber eyes and pink cheeks, flushed from the cold and curved up into a radiant smile. A smile he ached to see again, much to his own chagrin.
Only Atsumu doesn’t show up the next day, or the day after that. Kiyoomi can’t help but worry, despite knowing it’s probably nothing, a sentiment shared by Komori when he talks to him on the phone later.
“He told you he has exams coming up, Kiyo. of course he’s not coming in.”
“I know. It’s just weird, I’m so used to seeing him around that when he’s not there it feels… wrong.”
“Oooh, someone has a cruuush.”
“Shut up.”
“No, it’s cute! You’ve been single for so long, Kiyo. It’s about damn time you got some good dick.”
“I hate you. I’m hanging up the phone now.”
“No you don’t.”
The phone clicks off to the sound of Komori cackling, and Sakusa groans.
Yeah, he has it bad.
It’s not until the first week of December that Kiyoomi sees Atsumu walk into the cafe again. He senses it before even seeing Atsumu; something in the air changes, and as the door opens and their eyes meet, Kiyoomi swears everyone around them can hear his heart slamming against his ribcage.
So, naturally, he gets to work on Atsumu’s order, knowing it by heart now, and throws in a little extra something - his telephone number written on the lid.
Atsumu steps up to the counter, leaning forward with a smug grin. Kiyoomi wants to kiss- err, smack it off. “I’m baaaack!”
“Hello, sir. Can I help you?”
“Omi?” The drop in Atsumu’s expression would be funny if it didn’t cause Kiyoomi’s heart to ache. Damn feelings.
“Stop whining, Atsumu. I have your or-”
“I knew ya couldn’t forget me that easily!” Atsumu winks and Kiyoomi groans. “I’ll take a gingerbread latte with extra whipped cream, thank you!”
Kiyoomi’s brows furrow in confusion. “What about your caramel monstrosity?”
“It’s the holidays, Omi-kun! I always switch up my drink order during the holidays. Gingerbread lattes are the best!”
There’s a slight panic and flash of disappointment at the thought of Atsumu’s other drink going to waste, but he doesn’t allow it to show in his face. Instead, he makes the drink, trying not to notice how much Atsumu is watching him.
“Didja miss me, Omi-kun?”
“I didn’t realize you were gone.”
“Tch, liar. I saw ya light up when I walked in here.”
“It’s the fluorescents.”
“Yeah, and I’m the president. Yer not as subtle as ya think ya are.”
“Fine. Where were you, then?”
“I went back home to see my family after exams. My twin’s restaurant opened near the house and we went to support him! Do ya like onigiri, Omi?”
So much information all at once, but Kiyoomi finds himself hanging on every word, even if he doesn’t show it. “Yeah, I like it fine. Your brother owns a restaurant?”
“Yeah!” Atsumu puffs his chest out, visibly proud. “He used to play volleyball with me, but he quit to open the restaurant.”
A small hum of acknowledgement and Sakusa is presenting Atsumu with his drink, only this time he’s handed something back.
“If my instincts aren’t wrong, then text me when yer out.”
Atsumu winks and turns to leave, leaving Kiyoomi standing at the counter with a confused expression on his face… until he opens his palm to see a small piece of paper with a phone number written inside.
That night, he finds himself on a dinner date with one Atsumu Miya.