Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The coffee shop down by Mikage station might be a little out of the way, but it had reviews that praised its desserts to the heavens and apparently the staff was a warm lot (“Perhaps a little overenthusiastic, but I’m not complaining. Will come back for entertainment value,” one five-star review had read, whatever that meant), so Daichi was willing to make the trip.

(Okay, so the shop was several stops away, but it had been kind of a terrible day. Plus, as a wise man once said, “Treat yourself.”)

Karasuno Cafe was a homey little thing that sat, tucked away behind a couple of looming office buildings. Low set windows with curtains drawn wide apart - open and inviting, Daichi’s marketing mind noted approvingly. Maybe the sprayed layer of speckly white across the bottom of the windows was a bit pre-emptive given it wasn’t even December yet - not to mention, it rarely got cold enough for snow in Hyogo anyways, rendering fake frost on the windows moot altogether - but then again, they’d started holiday advertising at work weeks ago, so he couldn’t exactly complain.

It looked promising enough. With any luck, he’d find a new haunt (after all, Daichi was a creature of habit - when the coffee shop downstairs of the office had a switch in management translated into new coffee beans that tasted like water with a hint of eau de dishwashing towel, he got into a mood so foul the rest of his department gave him a wide berth for the rest of the day).

Might as well give it a try, he thought dryly.

So he pushed open the door and stepped into the shop --

-- and his world exploded into chaos.

More specifically, he managed to catch a loud screech of “INCOMING,” before someone barreled into his side, sending them both crashing to the cold tiling.

“SHIT oh god dude, are you okay I’m so sorry, please tell me you’re still alive so Suga-san won’t stab me --”

“I knew this was a bad idea, I knew it --”

“Live a little, Asahi!”

“He nearly killed a man! What would Ukai-san say?!”

Amid the ensuing ruckus, Daichi wheezed, propping himself up to show that he was at the least, very much alive. So that’s what that reviewer meant by ‘entertainment value’, he thought dazedly, as his attacker - a small male whose loudness seemed to overflow from his diminutive stature into the hair that spiked dramatically above his head - was still yelling his apologies into Daichi’s ear.

“He’s not dead, so at least there’s that,” the short barista - or at least, Daichi assumed he was a barista, what with his apron - intoned, a note petulant as some giant with a man bun bodily lifted him up from the ground.

Man Bun set Loud Shortie down, and immediately used his now free hands to gesticulate frantically. “Nishinoya, you literally jumped on the poor guy! I told you not to jump, but you didn’t listen!”

“Would’ve been okay if you just caught him, Asahi,” another barista called - this one a startling contrast to the shorter one, what with his shaved head - from a little ways across the cafe.

“Thanks Ryuu.” The barista that was apparently Nishinoya shot a quick thumbs up to Bald Barista Ryuu, who reciprocated in kind. He turned his ire back on Asahi. “I trusted you to catch me, Asahi-san! I even said --” He pursed his lips, pressed his hands together, and tuned his voice several notches higher into a piss poor mimicry of the female tone. “Catch me, Jack, I’m flying! I’m flying, Jack!”

“That’s not how Titanic goes!”

Daichi was watching the exchange in equal parts bemusement, amusement, and just flat out horror when a new voice cut in - a key softer than the rest, Daichi noted. “What’s going on?”

He glanced upwards, and --

Oh.

Oh.

Daichi was well aware that typically, looking up at someone was one sure way to get an unflattering viewpoint of them - after all, Oikawa had made sure to drive the point home from the multitude of times he’d taken snapchats of Daichi from underneath the table during particularly boring meetings (“Ooh, if you keep making that scary face, your double chin will stay forever Dai-chan!”). But the newcomer apparently knew nothing of such unseemly human laws of attractiveness, because unflattering angle and all, he was absolutely stunning.

“Suga-san!” Nishinoya called, gesturing awkwardly at Daichi. “I, um, nothing! I might’ve accidentally knocked someone over, but you know!”

“Might’ve,” Ryuu snorted from his post behind the counter.

Resident Angel - Suga, apparently - sighed, fixing his gaze on Daichi instead. He offered Daichi an apologetic smile - it was a challenge and a half for Daichi not to choke on his own spit, because oh god how can any one person pack so much purity into a smile - and a hand. “Are you okay?”

Suddenly, Daichi became hyper-aware of the fact that he was still on the ground. Way to look stupid, Daichi, the voice inside his head scolded him, and he suffered silently as his ears burned what was undoubtedly a bright Rudolph’s-nose-red. “I’m good, I’m good,” he assured, taking the hand (his fingers were so slim and pale next to Daichi’s - and immediately he quashed that train of thought, because Daichi, you need to stop). “Just, surprised, is all.”

Suga bit his lip in a half-hearted effort to stop the tips of his mouth from quirking up. “No doubt,” he said. He addressed the rest of the staff, eyeing them with the air of a mildly disapproving mother, “So, what happened?”

Nishinoya shuffled his feet awkwardly. “I was just putting up the lights, like you said, Suga-san,” he mumbled, “and I was too lazy to climb back down the ladder. So, you know, I jumped at Asahi.”

“You tried, you mean,” Asahi interjected.

“How was I supposed to know someone was going to walk in at that exact moment?!”

Suga snorted, and Daichi looked down at him, surprised. It wasn’t the most delicate of laughs, but at the same time, somehow, it suited him. It was boyish - charming - in a way.

“Ah,” Suga smothered his chuckle, probably suddenly realizing he had a duty to uphold. “Try not to jump on innocent customers again, okay Noya?”

“Wait, Suga, what about me?”

“I’m sure you’ll live, Asahi.” The - manager? - grinned widely before dimpling at Daichi instead, ignoring Asahi’s wounded ‘why?!’. “Anyways, I’m sorry about that, Mr - ah -”

“Daichi. Sawamura Daichi,” Daichi offered a beat too fast. “But uh, you can call me Daichi.”

As soon as the words left his lips, he regretted it. What if Suga thinks he’s being too forward, too familiar too fast - oh god, what if he finds Daichi weird --

“I’m Sugawara Koushi, but everyone calls me Suga,” Suga cut into Daichi’s thoughts brightly - and a bit unnecessarily, because frankly, Daichi had filed his name away forever the moment he’d heard it. He reached out to tug lightly at Daichi’s wrist, pulling him further into the cafe. “Name what you want, it’s on the house. For, you know. Taking a Noya to the ribs.”

Daichi jerked back briefly into reality - get it together, Sawamura, seriously - to stutter a, “Ah, no, no it’s fine, I possibly couldn’t --”

“Daichi.” Was that the disapproving mother tone? “Nishinoya literally swan-dived onto you. It’s fine.”

“I mean, it wasn’t quite that elegant,” Ryuu muttered with what was distinctly a shit-eating grin, and then ‘oof’ed as Nishinoya elbowed him in the side.

“I-I guess a latte is fine then, thanks,” Daichi said, eyeing the other baristas worriedly when Nishinoya let loose a battle cry within the confines of Asahi’s restraining arms as Ryuu laughed uproariously. While there were no other patrons at the moment, he kind of couldn’t help but wonder about the effectiveness of their energy as a business strategy.

Suga seemed to follow his train of thoughts, as he grinned his perfect dimply grin as he let go of Daichi to slide behind the counters. “They’re a bit rowdy, but they’re a good bunch,” he said, as he scribbled something on the back of a coffee cup. “There’s never a boring moment with them, that’s for sure.”

Daichi let out a breathless laugh. “Yeah, no kidding.” In a rush to prevent the conversation from tapering off, he added, “I guess I now see what the reviews mean by ‘entertaining’.”

“Is that what they say about us?” Suga tucked his hair - it shone silvery under the warm lighting, and Daichi wondered if this man could be any more unfair - behind an ear as he worked. He snickered. “I sure hope we’re known for something other than our ability to entertain.”

“For a place with four and half stars on Yelp, I’d certainly say so. They talk a lot about your croissants.”

“How flattering, you’ve clearly looked into us,” Suga cooed teasingly. He flashed Daichi another grin as he moved through the procedure in fluid, well-practiced ease. “We don’t have any croissants right now since Asahi’s too busy taking preventative measures,” he jutted his chin towards where Asahi was now lugging Nishinoya towards what was evidently the staff room, “to actually make any replacements, but that just means you’ll have to come back, right?”

Come back, he said. You’ll have to come back.

Praise his parents for his rational mind, Daichi mused dryly. He’d almost stopped breathing, but Suga obviously didn’t mean anything by that. Calm down, Sawamura. What are you, still in middle school?

“Yeah,” Daichi swallowed, “Yeah, I will. For sure.”

The smile that he got in response was even sunnier than the ones before. Suga’s beauty mark - that Daichi had only just noticed, somehow - scrunched against his cheek with the force of his cheer. “I’ll be holding you to that, then!”

Later, when Daichi was sent through the door with a chorus of ‘bye’s and ‘sorry for the trouble’s, he turned the cup around in his hands, curious - if memory served, Suga had definitely written something on the cup. Lo and behold, written in black marker was a looping, ‘come back again soon! :D’

Daichi spent the rest of the trip home in an jittery euphoria.