Chapter Text
Tooru hums to himself, scrubbing the plate in hand, when his phone buzzes on the kitchen counter. Drying his hands on the wash rag, he skips over to snatch his phone up. He checks the caller ID, swipes to accept the call, and sing-songs, “What’s up, Daichi?”
“Hey, Tooru,” an exhausted voice comes through the speaker. Tooru immediately sympathizes. Daichi is the principal of the elementary school Shouyou attends, and quite frankly, all the students are complete brats . Except, of course, his angel of a son, Shouyou, who could do no wrong. Or so he thought. “I really thought I’d never have to call you about Shouyou.”
Tooru grips the phone, just a bit too tight. His fingers turn an ugly shade of pale. He breathes in and out, slowing down his heartbeat, and shoves the negative thoughts out of his mind. That was one of his faults. He always jumped to conclusions. Instead, he tries to get the full story. Tooru grits out, “What happened?”
“Nothing. He’s fine, don’t worry. It’s just…” Daichi trails off, and Tooru’s mind has already supplied nine and a half scenarios. Shouyou fell off the swing, and broke his arm. Another kid called him a mean name. Shouyou had called that one obnoxious teacher ugly out loud , and worse, she had heard him . Or maybe, his son had accidentally gotten into a fight and gotten beaten to a pulp. Many, many more horrifying ideas were clouding his mind, and Daichi has the actual nerve to giggle . Tooru is about to yell god damn it Daichi, just tell me already, when he hears Daichi clear his throat. “It’s just, well, Shouyou got into a fight -- I shouldn’t even say fight, because that’s not what it was. Honestly, it was more like a cat fight, you know, where there aren’t any real hits, just a lot of yelling and swatting, I guess?”
Tooru sucks a breath in, and honest to god, he laughs. Because, of course, this would happen. Shouyou doesn’t have a mean bone in his tiny body, and there was no way he could actually fight someone. Sure, he could be a little shit, but wasn’t that all kids? He leans his head against the kitchen cabinet, and slowly exhales. “Do you need me to come in?”
“For the sake of formality, yeah.”
He nods, but realizes Daichi can’t see him. Of course. This is a cell phone, Tooru, people can’t see you , a condescending voice in his brain tells him. He tells himself to shut up. Tooru hums and says, “I’ll be there in a half hour. Save me a seat that my ass can actually fit in, would you?”
“Of course,” Daichi chuckles, “See you then.”
Tooru opens the door to the administration office, and immediately recognizes the smell of popcorn. Leave it to Daichi to eat popcorn every day of his life, and stink up the office like the old man he really is. He rolls his eyes and huffs. Someone ought to tell him that popcorn every day isn’t really good for him.
Tooru stands awkwardly at the entrance, unsure of what to do, since he refuses to go into Daichi’s office without permission. He prefered having ten fingers and ten toes, thank you very much.
Eventually, he looks around for the line of chairs administration offices always had. The secretary sees him, scrunches her eyebrows, but points to the corner by the window, hidden by her desk. Tooru smiles and winks at her. When she doesn’t seem fazed at all, he pouts and crosses his arms. Either he had lost his charm over the years after having a son, or she’s just too old to care. Tooru hopes it was the second option.
When he scuffles over to the chairs, he’s surprised to see another adult sitting in the chairs. An attractive one, at that. The man is the personification of hot dad bod , to be completely honest. Tooru fluffs his hair and slides into the chair next to him. He takes a second to look the parent over, a sharp jawline and slight scruff.
Tooru’s a goner, really.
“Hey,” Tooru says, nudging the other man with his knee. When the man looks up, Tooru grins and waggles his eyebrows. They’re quiet for a split second, until Tooru takes a chance and jokes, “What are you in for?”
The man looks confused for a second, but realization dawns on his face. He chuckles and shakes his head, obviously finding the joke funny, but not wanting to admit it. Running a hand through his short hair, he smirks and replies, “Petty theft and attempted arson. What about you?”
“Ah, well, I caused a car accident with my beauty.”
Hot dad, as Tooru so expertly names him, pulls a face. On anyone else, it would have been annoying or even ugly, but on him, it was endearing. The man crosses his arms and rolls his eyes. “Of course, beauty queen. You’re awfully lucky that this is just the principal’s office, and not jail.”
“I know, right?”
Tooru is about to say something else, probably a flirty line, when Daichi shows up out of nowhere. Impeccable timing, as always. Tooru wants to scowl, but Koushi has told him time and again that he’ll get wrinkles if he frowns too much. So, for the sake of beauty, he pushes the annoyance away and plasters a smile on his face.
“Hey, sorry about the wait, guys. You know kids,” Daichi says, chuckling. They did know. Tooru stands up, the hot dad right behind him, and Daichi shepherds them into his office. Over his shoulder, he tells the secretary, “Please call the two kids down to the office. Their respective parents are here.”
Daichi closes the door, and everyone sits. It’s only when Tooru is already seated that he realizes hot dad is sitting next to him, and, more than likely, the dad of the kid that Shouyou scrappled with. Incredible. What kind of fate was this? Daichi’s saying something, though, and Tooru knows he should be listening. He shakes himself out of his stupor and catches, “-- coming today, on such short notice. I really didn’t want to have to call either of you, since it really wasn’t a big deal, but protocol is protocol, as you well know.”
Daichi shrugs, and hot dad chuckles knowingly, nodding his agreement. Tooru feels like he missed out on an inside joke. He laughs, too, a forced one if he’s ever heard one, but they don’t say anything, so he guesses he’s okay. But still. The two were laughing like old friends, and Tooru wondered if they actually were . Tooru isn’t mad, of course -- only offended that Daichi kept such an attractive friend a secret, and how dare he not introduce them?
“Um, I’m sorry to interrupt, but about the fight ,” Tooru air quotes the last two words, and Daichi snorts, “Is the other kid okay? I know Shouyou has a heart of gold, but he also takes after me, and I wouldn’t doubt for a second that his fingernails could mess someone up. Even on accident. Those things are frightening, you know.”
Hot dad full-on laughs, crossing his legs professionally. Tooru realizes he still doesn’t know the man’s name. Hot dad smiles and, almost comfortingly, says, “Tobio is a big boy. He rarely cries, and for a kid his age, he’s pretty good at handling himself. The independent type, if I’ve ever seen one.”
“Tobio is your son, then, and you are …?”
“Hajime. It’s nice to meet you --”
“Tooru,” he quickly supplies, a bright smile on his face. He thanks every deity out there that Hajime was smart enough to understand that that’s exactly what he had wanted. Instead of talking more to hot dad -- no, Hajime -- Tooru decides to actually be professional and a great father. He turns to Daichi and asks, “So, what exactly was the fight about?”
Daichi leans back in his Big Leather Chair (capitalization necessary) and grimaces. Tooru knew the fight itself wasn’t bad, after the phone call, but he was curious. The principal sighs and explains, “Well, actually, Shouyou was the one to start it. Surprisingly. Tobio and Shouyou were about to start playing on the playground together, when Shouyou said a mean comment to Tobio.”
Tooru wants to laugh, but he holds himself back. For his kid, he tells himself. But also because he wants to look good in front of Hajime, who is looking mighty serious at the moment. Tooru gestures for Daichi to continue.
“Shouyou, uh, told Tobio that his shirt was ugly.”
At this, Tooru really does laugh aloud. He tried his very best not to, but the sound had bubbled out of him before he could stop it. Of course Shouyou had said that, Tooru was a fashion designer. The two often talked about clothes, well, as much as they could, with Shouyou being five years old. Mostly it was just about colors and how pretty they were. Shouyou is a big fan of florals, and bright, sunshine-esque colors. Along with that, Tooru let Shouyou pick out his outfits, but helped him when some of the colors clashed. His son knew what colors looked good together, even if he didn’t realize it.
Tooru looks up from his laughing fit to see Hajime glaring daggers at him. Now, as Tooru ignores Hajime’s actual looks, he realizes that his fashion sense was horrifying. No wonder Shouyou told Tobio his shirt was ugly, if this is where the kid got it from. He coughs, and switches his expression to something more along the lines of disappointment. “Wow. That’s, uh, horrible.”
Hajime still looks irritated, but before he can say anything, there’s a knock on the door. The receptionist peeks her head in, saying something about how the kids are here , and Daichi smiles. He motions for her to let them in.
Shouyou comes bounding in, all smiles and quick motions. When he notices his dad, he yells some gibberish and attacks Tooru with a hug. Tooru quickly pulls his son into his lap, and smiles apologetically at Hajime. He hasn’t forgotten why they were here, not really. Especially when Hajime’s still looking at him with something akin to annoyance. Tooru doesn’t like it.
“I’m so sorry that Shouyou said Tobio’s shirt was ugly,” Tooru says first, running a hand through Shouyou’s wild hair. He was about to say something else, an addition to his apology, maybe a drawn out explanation, when Tobio actually comes through the doorway. The shirt is the first thing Tooru notices, and it makes him want to physically throw up. Tobio was actually a good-looking kid, and Tooru felt bad that he was destined to wear such ugly fabrics. The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, “Actually, never mind. I agree. That shirt is disgusting.”
Tobio looks up, obviously confused to why a second person is saying his shirt is ugly. Then, he looks to Hajime, wide-eyed, looking for an explanation. Tooru feels bad. He just insulted a little kid.
Then again, he muses to himself, the shirt is an insult to his lifelong career. It’s an equal exchange, he likes to think. But even still, Tooru is a nice guy, contrary to popular belief. Tobio’s a kid, for god’s sake. So, he huffs, and says, “Sorry, kid. The shirt being ugly isn’t an insult to you. If anything, I’m mad at your father for picking out such a -- such an offensive outfit.”
Tobio seems satisfied with this answer, but Hajime jerks his head up, glaring at Tooru. Daichi is just watching from behind his desk, he deals with enough shit at the school, he doesn’t bother getting into this argument. In fact, it’s kind of funny, evident by the amusement on his face. Tooru decides to ignore that fact, and instead, faces Hajime head-on.
However, before their argument can delve any further, Shouyou interrupts. He jumps off his dad’s lap, and walks over to give Tobio a big bear hug. After the hug, Tobio looks traumatized, but also flattered. Shouyou grins, pats him on the head, and says, “Daddy’s right. Your ugly shirt isn’t your fault. In fact, you’re super duper pretty! I bet you’d be even prettier with a not-ugly shirt!”
Hajime looks absolutely bewildered, and he’s struggling to find something to say. When Tobio looks to his father, Hajime changes his expression to less of disgust, and more of a weak smile. It was more of a grimace, really. Tooru can’t blame him. Insults are worse coming from kids. He didn’t know why, but that’s just how life was.
Tobio scrunches his hands in his pants and makes his way over to his father, burying his face in Hajime’s ugly shirt. Like this, Tooru could definitely see a resemblance. Even besides the fashion disasters, Tobio had his father’s eyes. Shouyou had taken after his mother for most everything, and suddenly, Tooru wishes he hadn’t. His son should have his eyes, not someone’s who wasn’t even in the picture.
He feels bad, like he should do something to fix this situation. Tooru sighs, loudly, dramatically. Everyone looks at him, and Tooru feels kind of proud. He still has got it. Shouyou comes back over, lifting himself up into his dad’s lap. Immediately, Tooru plays with his hair.
“Your son shouldn’t be subject to this cruel and unusual punishment,” Tooru drawls, and Shouyou’s laughing, because he laughs at everything, even if it’s only his dad’s dramatic speaking. He loves it, mostly because Shouyou’s his number one, and only, fan. Tooru wants to tickle his son, give him all the attention and love in the world, but now’s not the time. There’s better things to be doing, like how Tooru is pulling out a card from his jacket, handing it to Hajime. He’s looking disgruntled, but curious. Tooru beams. “There, that’s for you. It’s my card. I’m a fashion designer. Please rethink how you dress your son.”
And like that, Tooru stands, Shouyou sliding off his lap. He turns and smiles at Daichi, who nods back at him. Everyone’s quiet, but it doesn’t really matter. Tooru’s work here is done, and there’s no reason for him to stay any longer; he’ll talk to Shouyou privately about being mean. He hefts Shouyou on his back, and all he hears is squealing. His son loves piggy back rides.
Something about being tall, apparently.
Together, they leave the school, they have a talk, and they get ice cream. They go home, and everything is fine. It’s easy to forget that Shouyou had ever been called to the principal’s office, because he doesn’t say anything mean to Tobio after that. It’s easy to forget, and Tooru does.
Tooru forgets, until weeks later, two things happen, and he remembers.
The first thing that happens, is that Shouyou comes home from school that day, quieter than usual. He’s obviously distressed, picking at a string he had pulled loose from his sweater. When Tooru asks what happened, Shouyou bursts into tears, and full on wails . It actually hurts his ears.
“It’s just … It’s so …” Shouyou tries through his tears, but it doesn’t work. Tooru lets him cry on his shoulder, until it’s all out, and he can finally talk. “It’s so sad! Tobio has to go to a wedding and -- and -- and,” there’s a hiccup here, and he basically starts screaming, “ He doesn’t have anything to wear! ”
“ What? ” Tooru asks dramatically, half for the sake of his son, and half because he really was scandalized. Tobio didn’t have anything to wear for a wedding? Disgraceful. Tooru stands up and immediately stalks to Shouyou’s room, crouches down, and digs through his closet. He knew Tobio was a bit bigger than Shouyou, but there’s enough clothes that there will be something. Shouyou’s right behind him, watching over his dad’s shoulder.
After a solid fifteen minutes of digging, a miracle appears. Shouyou gasps, too, and that’s how Tooru knew it was perfect. There’s a little suit and tie combo, one that a co-worker had given Tooru, but was too big for Shouyou. The slacks are there, too, and Tooru thinks he should go to a casino, with his luck.
Tooru carefully folds the outfit, and rustles around for a plastic bag. He crouches down again, in front of Shouyou, and smiles. “Here we go, Shouyou! We’re gonna put this bag in your backpack. Can you give it to Tobio for me?”
“Yes, daddy!” Shouyou says, nodding enough that it makes Tooru a bit dizzy. He takes the bag and puts it in his backpack, along with the shoes Tooru hands him, as well. He comes bounding back over to his dad, and hugs him. “I’m gonna be the bestest friend ever!”
The second thing that happens, is that , a week later, Tooru gets a random text message. He doesn’t recognize the number, and it’s not saved in his contacts, either. Curiosity wins over, though, and he opens it.
[What goes well with a purple sweater with a red heart on it?]
Tooru blinks. He re-reads the text. Surely it was a wrong number. It was probably from someone asking their friend what to wear on a date. But Tooru is a good samaritan, and he helps people whenever he can. This is one of those moments.
[if it’s dark purple, try dark grey/black skinny jeans. but if it’s an ugly lilac purple, try white slacks, if u have any. if not, just regular blue jeans] Tooru texts back, smiling. He really is an amazing person. As an afterthought, and because no one should forget shoes, he adds, [use dark shoes, for both, by the way. unless it’s a really bright purple. otherwise u should be good. good luck xoxo]
Hours later, he gets another message.
[Thanks.]
Everything comes together when Shouyou comes home from school that day. He’s bouncing up and down, a sunshine level smile on his face. Without prompting, he sing-songs, “Tobio looked really cute today! He didn’t wear an ugly shirt. Well, it was ugly, but it was cute on him!”
“Hmm? What’d he wear, Shouyou?” Tooru asks, smoothing out his son’s shirt. Somewhere between getting home and running around, it had gotten untucked. Tooru walks into the kitchen to start dinner, Shouyou following loyally behind.
“He had a purple shirt with a heart on it,” Shouyou announces happily, and looks confused when his dad stops walking. Tooru feels like an idiot. Of course. He puts a smile on his face, and turns to face his son. Tooru holds his breath, prompting his son to continue. “Dark pants, too. He looked good. It matched his hair.”
Tooru lets that breath out, and ruffles Shouyou’s hair. So Hajime really had listened to him. An idea came to him. A brilliant, wonderful, mischievous idea. “He looked good, huh? That’s good. What would you want him to wear next?”
“Yellow shirt!” Shouyou says, immediately. Probably because it was his favorite color. Then, he thinks a bit harder about it. Slowly, he says, “A nice yellow shirt. Like he’s going to another wedding, except it’ll be ours.”
Tooru pretends not to hear the last part.
“Got it.”
After dinner, and when Shouyou starts playing with his legos, Tooru decides to text Hajime. Tooru wants Tobio to look good, and as much as Shouyou is good with colors, it’s different on other people. He thinks about what to tell Hajime to dress his son in.
[hey. i know it’s u, hajime. i just figured it out.]
The reply comes immediately.
[I was hoping it would take you longer.]
Tooru chuckles. Of course. He’d probably want more free advice without Tooru knowing, huh. Too bad. There’s a lot he wants to say, but instead, he goes back to the original reason for texting. [on friday, dress Tobio in a light yellow dress shirt with a white jacket and dark jeans, please and thank you~]
[Why should I? He doesn’t even have a yellow dress shirt.]
Tooru’s ready for the excuse. He knew it would be hard to say no to this. [because Shouyou wants to see Tobio in a yellow shirt. i want him to, too, but i don’t want Tobio to look like a bumble bee. oh, don’t forget, white tennis shoes!]
There’s no reply for hours, until, [Alright.]
Shouyou comes home from school on Friday with a drawing. It’s hard to see what he drew, really, until he explains it. Apparently, Tobio and Shouyou had gotten married today, on the playground. Their friend Hitoka was the priest, and she was bawling the entire time. Shouyou wore blue, and looked fancy in his little marriage outfit.
Tobio wore yellow.