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The man in the suit is there again.
Tetsurou glances sidelong to the end of the aisle, where said man is standing in front of the ready-to-eat bentos, and tries his best to look like he’s actually working at restocking the sauces and not creeping on a customer.
The customer in question is someone who Tetsurou would call a regular if grocery stores had regulars - he comes in every morning, looking better than anyone should have the right to in a regular salaryman’s suit, and debates over the hot bentos their store offers for a good ten minutes before picking one and checking out, leaving Tetsurou sighing like a lovesick schoolkid in his wake (Yaku’s words, not his). It’s not that Tetsurou is lovesick - he’s merely appreciating the view, no pining or love involved. And if he thinks it’s really cute how the man seems to put so much consideration into such a simple decision, then that’s his business and nobody else’s.
Like clockwork, Hot Bento Guy (as Tetsurou has dubbed him in his head) nods decisively to himself and squats down to select a bento. And this, this is the main reason why Tetsurou has been lingering in the sauces section for longer than necessary: because the moment that Hot Bento Guy squats, his thighs, which are way too nice to belong to a simple salaryman, strain against his slacks like they’re trying to burst the seams apart, gray fabric outlining the muscles a little too well.
He has to work out, he muses to himself, mindlessly setting bottles on the shelf as he takes surreptitious glances to the side. There’s no way his thighs are like that from sitting all day.
“Excuse me, do you work here?” an amused voice asks on his left. Tetsurou jumps, knocking over a good handful of glass bottles. Luckily, none of them fall to an untimely death on the linoleum tile, which would take a good chunk out of his paycheck and most likely leave him eating nothing but rice and furikake for an entire month. He quickly sets the bottles upright, glaring at the person responsible for scaring him - he already knows they’re not a customer.
“Suga-chan, I swear I need to put a bell on you,” he mutters, righting the last bottle. “I don’t know where the hell you pop up from like that.”
“I walked up to you like a normal person,” Suga snorts in amusement. “Not my fault you were too busy ogling a customer’s thighs to notice.”
“I was-” Tetsurou whips his head around to check if Hot Bento Guy had overheard, but to his relief, he’s nowhere to be seen. “I was not ogling him,” he retorts, turning back to the sauces. “I’m just restocking the shelves, like I’m supposed to.”
“Mhm,” Suga hums, sounding unconvinced. “Then care to tell me why you’re putting soy sauce with the strawberry jam? I know flavored condiments are a thing now, but even I wouldn’t eat that combination.”
Tetsurou glances at the bottle in his hand, then the line of bottles in front of him. “Ugh, shit,” he groans. He’d restocked the entire shelf already. “When did the jam get moved here?”
Suga has the audacity to laugh at his misfortune. “Today, you doofus. Which you would know if you paid attention to your job like you’re supposed to, instead of daydreaming about a certain customer’s thighs. I don’t blame you though,” he adds. “His thighs are really nice. One of the top three I’ve ever seen.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tetsurou mutters, strained. “I don’t know about anyone’s thighs, least of all a customer’s.”
“Mhm,” Suga hums again, still sounding unconvinced. Tetsurou doesn’t know what he wants from him - to admit that he was staring at Hot Bento Guy’s thighs? Tetsurou would rather eat soy sauce mixed with strawberry jam. Suga continues, “Y’know, if you’re so into him, why don’t you, I don’t know…talk to him?”
“Are you crazy?” Tetsurou gives him an incredulous look. “I’m just an employee here. He probably doesn’t even know I exist. And what would I even say? ‘Excuse me, but I noticed that you like our takeaway bentos. May I suggest the one with mackerel? It’s rich in docosahexaenoic acids and good for your brain and heart health. Oh, and by the way, I want you to crush me between your thighs, would you like to go on a date sometime?’”
“Yes!” Suga claps his hands and points at Tetsurou. “Exactly that!”
“No,” Tetsurou rolls his eyes. “I’d be lucky if he ignores me, if he doesn’t smack me into next Tuesday instead. Worst case, he’d stop coming here.”
“That’s your worst case scenario?” Suga laughs, clutching his stomach. “Not getting beat up, but if he stops coming?”
“Better to stare from afar than not at all.”
Suga gives him a sly grin. “So you admit that you were staring?”
Tetsurou opens his mouth to disagree, then realizes the corner he’d backed himself into. “Ugh,” he groans instead. “You’re the worst. Why are you working in a grocery store instead of a psych office? You have the degree, and most importantly, the skillset.”
“Well, why are you working here when you literally have a doctorate in chemistry?” Suga retorts, crossing his arms over his chest. He levels an unimpressed look at Tetsurou. “A little hypocritical of you to ask me that, don’t you think?”
“Fine, fine,” Tetsurou sighs, holding his hands up in surrender. “Forget it. Anyway, I’m not gonna humiliate myself by talking to him, I’d rather snort wasabi.”
“I can make that happen.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“Kuroo, just talk to him,” Suga wheedles, whacking him on the back. Tetsurou yelps a startled “Ow!” - Suga is way stronger than he appears. “If you don’t, someone else is gonna snatch him up from under your nose. I know for a fact that a couple other people we know are very interested in our thighmaster cutie.”
“What!” Tetsurou whips his head around to look at him. “Who? Here?!”
Suga nods solemnly, eyes wide. He leans in, putting a hand up to his mouth in a mock-whisper. “I heard Terushima talking about asking him out this week, and Bokuto has also expressed his interest before.”
“Wha…” Tetsurou stares at him in dismay. It’s not that he doesn’t believe other people are interested - the “Hot” in “Hot Bento Guy” is there for a reason - but he hadn’t expected his coworkers to be part of the competition. Then he stops short. Wait, he realizes. What competition? I said I wasn’t going to talk to him. I shouldn’t be worried about this.
Clearing his throat, Tetsurou shakes his head. “If Terushima or Bo want to ask him out, that’s their prerogative. I told you, I’m not gonna talk to him.”
“Boo,” Suga leans back with a jeer, giving him a thumbs-down. “You’re so boring. If it makes any difference, I’m rooting for you over anyone else.”
“It doesn’t,” Tetsurou retorts. “Really, I won’t do it. If you can’t tell, I’m just trying to do my job. Now are you going to help me restock these shelves or not?”
“Nope,” Suga replies cheerily, like the demon he truly is. “I’m going on my break.”
“Wha-” Tetsurou’s jaw drops as he watches Suga skip away. “Didn’t you just clock in?!”
---
The next morning, Tetsurou is once again restocking the jam shelf with a box of blueberry jam. He’s actually doing his job this time around (which is because he’s a responsible employee and definitely not because Hot Bento Guy isn’t there yet) when a low voice behind him asks, “Excuse me?”
“Yes?” Tetsurou turns with a smile, jam jar in hand - and very nearly drops it on his foot when he sees that it’s him. Luckily for him, Hot Bento Guy catches it just in time; unluckily, he’d squatted down to do so, giving Tetsurou a very nice top-down view of his thighs. All the blood in his body seems to rush to his cheeks - or his dick, he’s not quite sure what’s up or down at the moment.
“Whoa,” Hot Bento Guy laughs, standing back up. He hands the jar back to Tetsurou, who prays to any higher power that his face isn’t as red as it feels. “That was a close one. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No!” Tetsurou yelps, clearing his throat when he sees him flinch in surprise. “I mean, no, you didn’t scare me. I just have, uh, slippery fingers. Thank you.” He cringes - slippery fingers? - and smiles weakly. “How can I help you?”
Hot Bento Guy gives him an amused look in return. “I’m looking for a specific bento, but I can’t seem to find it on the shelf.”
“Oh, sure thing,” Tetsurou says, a little disappointed for some odd reason. Why am I disappointed? He’s just a customer asking for help from a store employee. Get yourself together, idiot. With that in mind, Tetsurou’s customer service switch flips on, and he follows him to the hot foods section. He bends over, hands on his knees, and scans the bentos neatly lined up. “Which one are you looking for?”
“Mackerel.”
Tetsurou freezes. Behind him, Hot Bento Guy continues, oblivious to the bad feeling suddenly rising in Tetsurou’s gut, “I heard mackerel is really good for your heart, and apparently it’s rich in nutrients like docosahexaenoic acid.”
No way.
“I really like the bentos here, and someone recommended the mackerel one to me, so I thought I’d give it a try,” Hot Bento Guy finishes, a smile in his voice. Tetsurou swallows hard, his heart jumping into his throat.
This can’t be happening.
“R-really,” he says, forcing himself to act normal. It’s a lost cause when his voice comes out higher than he’d prefer, cracking. He winces, groaning inwardly. “Whoever told you that must have really good taste.”
“Mhm,” Hot Bento Guy hums. “They do.”
Not wanting to prolong his torture any further, Tetsurou quickly snatches up the mackerel bento, whirling around. “Here you go-”
He stops short, breath catching in his throat when Hot Bento Guy is suddenly much closer than he was expecting. He jumps and nearly falls over, if not for Hot Bento Guy grabbing him by the elbow. “U-um, sir,” he stammers, heart pounding a million miles a minute. “Excu-”
“I was wondering,” Hot Bento Guy starts, his fingers curling around Tetsurou’s arm. Just from his grip, Tetsurou can feel just how strong he is, and he flushes when the thought of being manhandled by him pops unbidden into his traitorous mind. “If your company has any policy regarding their employees...fraternizing with customers.”
What? Tetsurou stares at him, unsure if he’s hearing correctly. Hot Bento Guy continues, “Just in case someone might be interested in getting to know an employee better. Like their name...or their number?” He gives Tetsurou a look, like Tetsurou should know what he means - and Tetsurou thinks he does, but he also thinks he might be hallucinating this entire encounter. Because there is no way the incredibly attractive customer whom Tetsurou has been ogling (fine, Suga, he admits it!) for the past four months is hitting on him in front of the ready-to-eat bento section, five feet away from where Tetsurou once slipped on some spilled yuzu sauce and fell on his ass because nobody had bothered to clean it up.
He gulps audibly and opens his mouth to give a reply - only for nothing to come out. He has no idea what to say in this situation; the only other people who have hit on him before are the old grandmas who he helps bring groceries out to their car, and while Chiyo-san is very sweet, she’s not exactly Tetsurou’s type…or target demographic.
So there’s a long moment of silence where Tetsurou just gapes at Hot Bento Guy like an idiot, before something akin to embarrassment passes over Hot Bento Guy’s face. He quickly releases his grip on Tetsurou’s arm, stepping back and out of Tetsurou’s space. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he casts his eyes away from Tetsurou. “Sorry, I- This is inappropriate of me, isn’t it?” he mutters, expression crumpling in disappointment. “I just- I thought-” There’s a lovely crimson creeping onto his cheeks and down his neck that Tetsurou can’t take his eyes off of, but he finally kicks his brain into gear because Hot Bento Guy is now backing away with another muttered apology as if he thinks Tetsurou isn’t interested.
And Tetsurou is very much interested.
“Wait!” he exclaims, just as there’s a sharp crack! between them. His thumb suddenly feels very warm. They both look down, where Tetsurou had apparently squeezed the bento box so hard that he cracked the plastic lid, planting his thumb firmly in a hot chunk of mackerel. A distinct smell of fish rises into the air. “Uh, let me get you another one,” Tetsurou mutters, and, shoring up his courage, adds, “And while I’m at it, let me give you my number, too.”
Hot Bento Guy glances up from the cracked bento, and Tetsurou has to swallow hard because the sight of him looking up at Tetsurou through his long eyelashes, skin still a rosy pink from blushing, is a little too sexy for Tetsurou at seven in the morning. A small smile begins to spread over Hot Bento Guy’s lips, although he looks uncertain. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel obligated to…I’m just a customer, it’s really fine-”
“I want to,” Tetsurou blurts out. And just in case Hot Bento Guy thinks he’s referring to the bento for some bizarre reason, adds, “Give you my number, I mean. I see you every morning and I’ve been interested in you for a while now but-” He cuts himself off, realizing too late that admitting he’d been watching him probably sounds a little creepy.
But Hot Bento Guy merely chuckles, revealing a dimple in his cheek that Tetsurou thinks he might melt over. “I know,” he smirks. “You’re not exactly subtle.”
Tetsurou blushes. “Really? I thought I was doing a bang-up job,” he mumbles, looking down at the bento still clutched in his hand. “Here, uh-” He turns and retrieves a fresh bento from the hot case, setting the ruined one down in its place. Patting his pockets, he retrieves a sharpie and scribbles his number on the plastic case. “Here you go,” he hands the bento over. “My name’s Kuroo Tetsurou.”
Hot Bento Guy slowly takes the bento, glancing up at Tetsurou with another smirk. “I know,” he simply says, leaving Tetsurou mystified. “I’m Sawamura Daichi. I have to go to work now, but I suppose I’ll see you around, Kuroo-san?”
“Yeah,” Tetsurou breathes as Sawamura steps around him with a quick wink that sends Tetsurou’s heart rate skyrocketing to the moon. “I’ll see you.”
He stands there for who knows how long, staring at the spot where Sawamura had disappeared with a wave and a lovely smile, and it isn’t until Suga happens upon him that he finally registers what the hell just happened.
“Earth to Kuroo? Are you okay?” Suga waves a hand in front of his face.
Tetsurou blinks once, twice, three times. “Oh my god,” he whispers. “Oh my god. He- he just-”
“Oh, did Daichi finally ask you out?” Suga sighs. “Good, I’ve been telling him to go for it for weeks now, but he never did. Glad to know he finally got the balls to talk to you.”
“Wait.” Tetsurou whips his head around to stare at him. “What?”
“Did I not tell you?” Suga grins, a shit-eating one that just screams that he knew all along. “Daichi and I went to high school together. We hang out all the time. He’s been talking about you for ages.”
Tetsurou’s jaw drops in disbelief. “All this time, you-” he sputters. “You knew- Wait, for ages?”
“Mhm,” Suga hums, nodding. “He pined after you just as much as you pined for him.”
“Really?” Tetsurou feels a little flattered that someone as hot as Sawamura had apparently found him attractive enough to pine - nevermind that he was basically in the same boat (and still is). It gives him something to tease Sawamura about the next time they meet. “I guess I should thank you, Suga-chan,” Tetsurou grins widely. “Guess your mind-game powers can be used for good after all.”
“Uh-huh, this is exactly why I got my psych degree.”
He ignores Suga’s look of amusement and skips back to the jam jars, humming all the while - until Suga exclaims in disgust, “Ugh! Who the hell squashed the mackerel in this bento and just left it there?!”