Chapter Text
The snow outside of the restaurant looked soft, piling on the grounds of Musutafu and painting the town white.
From the window of his office, Shota watches a man pull a young lady under the mistletoe and pressed a soft kiss on her cheek.
Music muffled behind closed doors, soft and lovely, as if to highlight the couples moment. The trumpet plays smooth as always, Momo is a professional after all, — When he had looked at her resume he had wondered if maybe she was a little too over qualified to work here. — and Rikido’s voice sounds as rich as the chocolate he’s always bringing the staff.
“ Hold me tight and hold me fast.. ”
The young man puts arm around her waist, pulling her closer and resting his forehead on her shoulder.
” The magic spell you cast.. ”
She kisses under his ear giggling to herself as her lipstick stains and uses her thumb to rub it away.
“ This is.. La vie en rose.. ”
From the corner of his office he can hear his husband humming along to the to the trumpet, flipping through records and assumingely important papers.
”We need another waiter, were not understaffed yet but it’s putting an obvious strain on our staff ever since you fired that lil’ guy.” Hizashi, always one to empathize with the waiters, flips another three pages. “People will notice if our staff is rushed and stressed.”
Shota hums in agreement — still watching the couple across the street — and makes a mental note to put back up the “help wanted” sign on the window.
Hizashi starts something about needing “another cook as well” and one of the waitresses needing “time off”. The final blare of the trumpet plays pulling Shota’s already divided attention from the window to the door. He glances at the clock mounted on the wall.
4:57.
There’s shuffling and the soft sound of the latches on Momo’s trumpet case closing.
When Shota had first noticed the problem he hadn’t given it a second thought, really. Didn’t think it was an actual problem. It wasn’t his job to notice something so minuscule anyways — to notice something so unimportant.
4:59
A scraping sound from a bench being tucked in and a piano key is hit softly, it gives a small and short high pitched “ dink! ” in response.
Shota stands from his desk and walks towards the circular window at the door, ignoring his husband’s questions of where he’s going and what he's doing.
5:00.
The first notes of the song ring out. Katsuki Bakugou begins his first song of the night and Shota watches the whole mood of the restaurant changes.
There are no lyrics, just the somber chords of the piano.
Sato, no longer on stage, makes his way outside for a cigarette break.
Bakugou sits at the piano and playing every note with earnest. The sleeves of his white button up are rolled up to his elbows, the uniform vest is nicely ironed with his name tag shiny and visible on his chest. Even with his eyes covered by blond hair he seems emotional, mouth pressed in a tight line.
His husband shuffles up next to him at the window, peering out as Bakugou continues to play as if his goldfish had just died that morning.
”Where did you find these kids, Shota?” He says scratching the back of his head, and Shota makes another mental note that the roots of his hair need a touch up. “They’re all seriously too talented to work only at a restaurant.”
“I’d fire ‘em all on the spot” He says dryly, its all bark though. Bakugou’s sad song finally ends, only to be replaced by another. Without seeing his eyes Shota can only assume they’re filled with as much emotion as the chords.
Across the restaurant, one of the waitresses — Ochaco Uraraka — walks out the swinging doors, arms full. Swerving through isles and around chairs without watching her feet as she places plates at their respective tables flawlessly.
Take that , gravity .
Glancing in the direction of the piano she rolls her eyes, its been this way for a month now.
Other than the the fact that she has to sit through Bakugou playing the blues for 3 hours ‘til closing every other night, Ochaco enjoys her job at YUUEI’S.
It’s cozy and warm and the pay — goodness the pay — is enough to provide for her needs as well as have enough left over to send to her parents
On her way back to the kitchen she’s stopped by a certain two-toned boy and he hands her a small slip of paper with more orders and points to a table in the far corner. It’s no where near her tables.
They need another waiter.
Ochaco takes the slip from him, nods, and slips back into the kitchen as Todoroki turns back to the tables again. She opens the doors as her green haired friend walks out with his hands also full.
Definitely need another waiter.
Izuku was skeptical about the job at the start, seeing how he’s clumsy enough to trip over his own two feet and crash into anything at all, but after a year at YUUEI’S it seemed like the only time he wasn’t tripping over himself was when he was focused waiting tables.
He sets down the last steak in his hands and takes a moment to let his eye wonder around the restaurant — a moment which he doesn’t have — and takes it all in, to be working at restaurant was never Izuku’s dream per-say, but he was lucky nonetheless.
People would come and go, —returners, new comers, tourists, dates, etc. — and Izuku would happily take the orders of those who sat at his table and bring said orders to them, because that was his role.
The restaurant was familiar. Dim but lively, the orange hue of the lights bouncing off the whites of pearls that matched black dresses and suits, the clanking of sliver forks and knives cutting through various meats or piercing salads, the sounds of Momo trumpet paired with either Jirou or Sato’s voice. The sounds of the piano keys.
For a moment, emerald eyes meet ruby, above the piano and the next note of the song comes out a little sharper than the rest, relaxing back to the soft smooth melody immediately. Izuku turns back and heads for the table waving him over.
He doesn’t have moments to rest and let his eyes and mind wander, to get distracted by the lights and familiarities and piano players.
He has a job, for Christ’s sake.