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When Aomine used to picture his adult life, he didn’t really see himself as a bartender, but there he was, on the slowest night of the month, methodically pretending to wipe glasses, and reflecting on his life.
Ever since he came out as bisexual to Satsuki, she became one of those weird sisters you see on foreign soap operas, who dye their hair in all colors of the rainbow and march in parades to support their siblings, only her idea was to dye her hair pink and open a gay bar. While she was the kind of person who could do anything once she put her mind to it, Aomine wasn’t really cut out for the job. He still occasionally broke a glass or two, mixed up orders, snapped at patrons, or even forgot to close the door once.
Still, it wasn’t like he could complain. Both he and Satsu lived above the bar, which beat living with their mom, and while he wasn’t making a fortune out of the whole business, he wasn’t overworked in any imaginable way, and they’ve had a few regulars that actually managed to entertain him; which – despite what Satsuki seemed to think – wasn’t a code for friendship.
Sighing, he looked around the bar, spotting Tetsu and Kagami in their usual corner, the one which offered them most privacy from other patrons, but somehow continued to scar Aomine from where he was normally standing. There were a few more couples scattered around the place, but no one he recognized, and one sad lonely loser that has been sitting there for about three hours, nervously nursing water.
Aomine wasn’t all that surprised the guy had been stood up.
Sure, he was pretty, but so was Satsuki, and no one seemed to want to date her either, because good looks couldn’t always hide the fact that there was something wrong with you – not that Aomine would know.
He couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor sod, so he found himself watching him as the remaining patrons slowly sipped out of the bar. They guy bit his lips a lot, which was really distracting, and kept doodling on napkins, which kind of made Aomine want to charge him for at least forty of them. When Tetsu and Kagami finally left, he didn’t really see any point in making the last call, impatiently waiting for the stood-up guy to take a hint and get lost too.
But he just sat there, casting skittish glances between the door and the bar, and something in Aomine kind of broke into many annoyingly tiny pieces. On an impulse, he made two simple drinks and walked over to the guy, startling him when he placed both glasses on the table.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I should…” stammered the guy, eyes wide.
Aomine sighed in irritation. “This is a bar. That’s what you do in bars. Drink alcohol. What’s your name?”
“Sakurai Ryou,” he mumbled into the glass, before taking a cautious sip and grimacing. “I’m sorry, I- I don’t really drink, sorry.”
Aomine snorted, taking a liberal gulp of his drink. “You don’t say. So what are you doing here, Ryou?”
Sakurai’s eyes widened even more, a faint blush to his cheeks. “I’m sorry… is this a trick question?”
Aomine winced involuntarily. He usually wasn’t the one to agonize over his own social blunders, but even he couldn’t help but mentally kick himself in that moment. Of course Sakurai didn’t want to actually admit out loud that he had been stood up, and that he couldn’t bring himself to just leave, probably still hoping that douchebag was just running really, really late.
Sakurai didn’t seem too disgruntled with Aomine’s self-imposed company, but he was obviously tense and nervous, fiddling with his glass, which brought attention to his long, calloused fingers – they were as distracting as his lips, if not more, since Aomine had a thing for hands. Sakurai seemed at a loss for words, staring at him expectantly, almost pleadingly, and Aomine could feel his initial pity transforming into something completely different. Swallowing, he followed another odd impulse, and looked Sakurai straight in the eye.
“I’m going home now, but come by tomorrow. I finish at ten.”
Sakurai frowned lightly, but eventually nodded. He didn’t actually budge from his seat, watching him closely with a look that managed to be equally suspicious and eager. It did things to Aomine for some reason, so he cleared his throat awkwardly and abruptly stood up.
“It’s a date then,” he muttered, feigning nonchalance. “Now get lost.”
Sakurai yelped, leaping to his feet. “Yes, of course! I’m sorry! I’ll come tomorrow! I’m sorry for coming today! So sorry! I will see you tomorrow! Sorry!”
He kept mumbling apologies all the while as he gathered his napkins, fumbled with his wallet, and bowed frantically, everything seemingly at the same time, which was a pretty pathetic view that Aomine would normally laugh at. But for some reason, when the door finally closed behind Sakurai, he couldn’t help feeling smug about having that effect on someone.
The next afternoon was busy enough for Aomine to have very little time to think about what a fucking stupid mistake he’s made and why. He hasn’t been on a date in a while, which was probably why asking out a stranger who made absolutely no indication he was interested in Aomine seemed like a good idea at the time. A date in his workplace, no less. While wearing pants he hasn’t washed in two weeks and an old t-shirt that fell victim to a Bloody Mary two hours ago.
Near the end of his shift, Satsuki graciously came down, but she paid no attention to him, occupied with cleaning up after him, so he supposed he could run upstairs and change into something less smelly, but there was a voice in the back of his head that kept laughing at him for trying too hard for a guy he’s just met and asked out mostly out of pity.
“Look who’s here,” chirped Satsuki, suddenly appearing next to him; she spent way too much time with Tetsu.
Aomine looked in the direction she was pointing at, and his eyes widened in shock and terror when he saw Sakurai. Refusing to look at her, Aomine tried not to be completely freaked out by her weird superpowers, because he was three hundred percent sure he hasn’t mentioned Sakurai to her – he hasn’t even talked to her today until now. Rubbing his neck awkwardly, he shrugged, and walked over to his date.
Sakurai beamed at him bashfully, like he was actually glad he could see him, and Aomine wanted to offer one of his arrogant smirks, but it felt more like a nervous, lopsided grin that probably made him seem pretty pathetic. Sakurai was dressed even more nicely than the previous night, which was flattering on one hand, but on the other made Aomine feel really underdressed.
“Do you want anything to drink?” he gritted out finally.
Ryou smiled as he took a seat. “Water is fine.”
“Uh…”
“I’m sorry!” yelped Sakurai, blushing. “Should I ask for alcohol? I’m so sorry! I’ll have what you’re having! I’m so sorry!”
Aomine rolled his eyes, but Sakurai’s nervousness actually helped him relax a little. Satsuki smirked at him as she passed him two glasses of water, and he made an indignant noise which she instantly waved off.
“You’re an embarrassing drunk, Dai-chan. Don’t mess up.”
Aomine gritted his teeth and walked back to their table. Sakurai downed his glass of water in one go, his huge eyes watering, lips shiny and parted as he panted for breath. Gulping, Aomine slid his glass over to Sakurai, and unceremoniously rushed back to the bar to take a chug straight out of the nearest bottle when Satsuki wasn’t looking. His throat and lungs burning, his head pleasantly buzzing, he suddenly felt much more confident about actually being able to handle Sakurai Ryou, who beamed at him again when he got back.
Aomine hasn’t been on a date in an even longer while than he initially thought, because he had no idea what to say as they sat there, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with each other. He somehow resisted the urge to flee and drink himself to sleep behind the bar.
“Uh, I’m- I’m sorry, but-” started Sakurai suddenly. “I’m sorry for not knowing, but what is your name? I’m so sorry!”
Aomine nearly slammed his head against the table, heat rising to his face. “A- Aomine. Don’t worry about it. Guess it didn’t came up last night. You don’t have to apologize for everything.”
“I’m sorry for apologizing so much!” squeaked Sakurai, hiding his flushed face in his hands.
Aomine swallowed, not sure if his date’s edginess made him feel better or worse. He took a deep breath, instinctively glancing behind him, where Satsuki was showing him thumbs-up, grinning widely. Grimacing, Aomine turned back to Sakurai, whose hands were now on the table, scraping against the surface nervously.
“It’s a great place,” offered Sakurai shyly. “Are you the owner?”
“Satsuki is, technically,” blurted out Aomine. “How did you find us? Not that there’s a shitload of gay bars in the area. Never mind.”
Sakurai smiled gently. “Kuroko-kun mentioned it to me. I’m sorry if you don’t know him! He’s one of your regulars.”
“You know Tetsu?”
“Kagami-kun and I are in the same cooking class.”
“You cook?!”
Sakurai laughed this time as he apologized, and it all went rather smoothly from then on; at least for Aomine. Once he took interest, it wasn’t rocket science to make conversation, but Sakurai was a bit weird about answering questions, like he was trying too hard to make himself look good, but for all the wrong reasons. Because, seriously, why would Aomine care if he was punctual, could saw, and liked cleaning? He wasn’t looking for a maid. Unless Sakurai was looking for a husband, which was way out of Aomine’s comfort zone, he had a really weird way of acting on a date.
From time to time, Satsuki refilled their glasses with that goddamn water, or brought them snacks, winking at him conspicuously, which made him groan and Sakurai blush every time. But, luckily, they managed to hold up their awkward conversation, and Aomine found himself actually starting to like Sakurai. He was amiable, he cooked, liked basketball, and was easy on the eye, which basically met most of Aomine’s standards, and the fact that Sakurai seemed to be in awe of him for some strange reason, constantly trying to impress him, was an added bonus.
“You should draw me something sometime, Ryou,” he said suddenly. “Or just draw me.”
That was a shot in the dark, a leap of faith of sorts, because Aomine has never been very good at reading people outside of a basketball court, and despite Sakurai’s obvious admiration for him, he couldn’t tell if cheap flirting was the best way to convey that he actually looked forward to another date. But judging by the blush on Sakurai’s pale cheeks, Aomine was glad he resisted the urge to follow that with the lame Titanic reference, because Sakurai’s head would probably explode.
“I’m sorry! I’m not that good! I wouldn’t want to disappoint! I’m so sorry! It’s just a silly hobby! I don’t even draw that much anymore! Sorry!”
Aomine snorted, shaking his head in amusement. “Don’t be cute with me. I should charge you for the napkins.”
“I’m so sorry!” whined Sakurai, yelping when Satsuki showed up again.
“Are you bullying Sakurai-kun, Dai-chan?” she drawled.
Aomine bristled. “A little privacy, ugly?”
Satsuki puffed out her cheeks petulantly, planting her hands on Aomine’s face and pulling on it in retaliation. Of course she wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to embarrass him on his first date in almost a year, and he was going to smother that cow in her sleep. Sakurai looked uncomfortable as he sent Satsuki a skewed smile when she finally let go of Aomine’s cheeks.
“Sorry for asking, but how long have you been married?” he asked a little sadly.
Aomine’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “Married?! She’s my sister! Did you spike Ryou’s water?! Fucking married?! Why would I go on a date with my wife bringing me peanuts?!”
“Date?” asked Satsuki and Sakurai in unison, instantly making Aomine’s blood run cold.
“Dai-chan, this is a job interview… I told you about it… You thought- you thought it was a-”
She couldn’t finish, because she suddenly broke down in a fit of hysterical laughter. Sakurai looked like he was going to cry, clearly beyond humiliated, and Aomine briefly considered committing seppuku, but quickly opted for double homicide. As his sister continued to cackle, some patrons took interest in the scene, making Aomine growl warningly, while Sakurai’s eyes actually filled with tears. Pity wasn’t what Aomine felt this time.
“You- you tricked me!” he seethed, mortified.
“No!” gasped Sakurai in horror. “No, I’m sorry! It’s a misunderstanding! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean! I’m sorry!”
Satsuki ruffled his hair and hiccupped on a giggle. “Don’t worry, Sakurai-kun! It’s completely on him. Although you were supposed to be here yesterday~”
“He was,” croaked Aomine, realization finally dawning on him. “Shit... Shit, fuck!”
“Oh, Dai-chan,” cooed Satsuki, more compassionate this time. “I told you three nights ago…”
Aomine got up abruptly, hating how hot his face felt. He was going to die, that’s what was going to happen. He couldn’t wrap his head around the situation, especially with Sakurai staring at him with begging eyes, which now could be interpreted as a plea to give him a chance at the job, not romantically. Aomine actually wanted to die, and he swat off Satsuki’s hand when she reached for his shoulder, eyes filled with concern.
“Fuck off, you didn’t! When?! Was I asleep?!”
“You made comprehensive noises,” she mumbled, losing confidence. “You actually said- You said- Oh yeah, that’s great… Oh… Oh god, you were having- Oh my god…”
Aomine made a wounded noise when Satsuki collapsed on his chair, hiding her face in her hands, laughing even harder. Sakurai’s breath hitched when he made the same connection, face aflame, probably fully realizing he was never ever getting hired. Over his dead body, Aomine was not getting replaced by this lying, cheating, sneaky opportunist, no matter how cute and kind he seemed at first glance.
“Wait, you wanted to fire me?!” he snapped suddenly, staring at his sister accusingly.
“No, Dai-chan,” managed Satsuki, still giggling occasionally as he wiped the tears from her eyes. “It’s just- We’re slowly getting more clientele, and I just wanted someone who would actually do some work around here…”
“Why?! Kise tends the bar for free!”
Satsuki clicked her tongue, purposefully rising her voice. “Ki-chan takes half an hour to make one drink.”
“Hey, I’m an artist!” shouted Kise from his table, making his angry-looking boyfriend roll his eyes.
Aomine groaned. “I want you all dead. Especially you!”
“I’m sorry!!!” wailed Sakurai, genuinely terrified. “Aomine-san, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know! I didn’t dare think- I’m so sorry! Please, forgive me, I’ll go! I’ll never come back! I am so sorry!”
“What are you even saying?!” demanded Takao suddenly, munching on crackers two tables over, completely engrossed in the scene. “You’re hired! Right, Satsu-chan?! I can save money on cable if I’m gonna have live drama in here! When can he start?!”
Aomine was this close to actually putting someone’s head through the table, possibly his own. He’s never felt so humiliated, not even when Murasakibara beat him at arm-wrestling while her girlfriend was casually sitting in her lap, feeding her candy. Everyone seemed to be having great fun at his expense, save for Sakurai, who at least had the decency to look crestfallen and remorseful. Aomine still couldn’t believe he could have made such a spectacularly stupid mistake, and more than anything else, he didn’t want Sakurai around to remind him of it every single day.
“Then I quit,” he deadpanned, and Satsuki only sent him a blank look. “Yeah, fine, okay, whatever,” he conceded instantly. “Just keep him away from me.”
He unceremoniously walked off, heading straight upstairs to sleep for a century. He took a quick cold shower, which helped him calm down a little, but he still kept tossing and turning in his bed for a while, until his stomach growled loudly, reminding him he hasn’t eaten anything except chips and peanuts, which he surely was going to develop an allergy to. Hoping that Sakurai was long gone by now, he didn’t bother putting on a shirt as he decided to pester Satsuki to make him supper – every single patron has seen him in only his underwear at some point anyway, and no one complained.
Unfortunately, Sakurai was standing in the door as Aomine opened it.
“What are you doing here?” he snapped, feeling oddly exposed.
Sakurai blushed, ducking his head and holding out a bento box. “Satsuki-san said you’d be hungry. I just- I wanted to apologize again. And to thank you. And I’m really sorry! I’m just- I’m glad you’re not married! Sorry!”
He shoved the box into Aomine’s hands and fled, the tips of his ears and the back of his neck burning red. Aomine swallowed thickly, a wave of heat hitting his chest when Sakurai’s last words finally sank in. Dazedly, he opened the bento, snorting at the very sad panda staring at him from the box, and closed the door. Flopping down on his bed, he tasted the meal tentatively, and immediately cursed under his breath.
It was a very good bento.