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Kageyama hummed to himself, an unusual skip in his step. Today was the day he’d finally get his favorite cookies from the bakery he frequented. The past few days he had been too busy at work, and honestly, it was killing him not having the cookies every day. The cookies -- no, his cookies -- were a daily routine, and if he didn’t have his cookies, he couldn’t function.
It was terrible, really.
When Kageyama had complained to his co-worker about his severe lack of cookies, Oikawa had merely paused and asked what type it was. Kageyama told him, with a wistful expression on his face, Space Station Bakery’s oatmeal raisin cookies. Oikawa had gasped, horrified, looking absolutely disgusted . They didn’t talk about cookies after that. Kageyama also never told people about his preference, ever again. That hadn’t been the first time someone told him oatmeal raisin cookies were disgusting, either.
Sure, Kageyama knew that he was a special case. No one liked oatmeal raisin cookies. Everyone that was anyone had told him as much. But not everyone had tried Space Station Bakery’s version of oatmeal raisin cookies. Truly, the cookies lived up to their resident name. The taste was out of this world.
Kageyama snorted, laughing at his own joke. He would have to tell the baker about his joke, maybe they’d use it as a promotional plan, or something. But mostly, he wanted someone to know that he was actually funny. He was proud of himself for that one.
Finally, finally, he was in front of Space Station Bakery. Finally, finally, he would get his daily fix of cookies. Kageyama paused and took a deep breath, savoring the sweet smell of baked goods. There was something about freshly made sweet things from a bakery. Especially when the outside of the store was just as cute: a pale pink background, with light greens and blues to make a pastel-version of space.
He pushed the door open.
“Hi, welcome to Space Station Bakery!” A cheerful voice called out when Kageyama entered. Kageyama looked up and nodded in acknowledgement. He recognized the man, he was the one who always made the baked goods. The only reason Kageyama even knew that was because the baker always had flour in his hair and all over his clothes.
It was kind of cute.
Kageyama walked up to the front, straight to where his favorite cookies were always located. Except, they weren’t there. He stared at the plate of ugly frosted cookies. It took him forever to realize. Wait. His mind finally caught up to what this meant. His cookies -- his cookies weren’t there. Kageyama’s eyes widened, and he looked up wildly, searching for his cookies throughout the entire store.
They weren’t there.
“Is there anything I can help you with?”
Kageyama glanced up to see the baker staring at him. There was too much warmth and happiness on the baker’s face for such a horrible day. It made Kageyama squirm. He coughed, and tried to seem unfazed. He pointed to the plate of frosted cookies and asked, “Um. Where are my -- I mean, uh, the cookies that are usually here?”
“The cookies…” The baker trailed off, seeming confused. He looked over to the spot Kageyama was pointing out, trying to remember. The baker smiled, a genuine smile, and Kageyama couldn’t help but notice that he had dimples. Kageyama briefly wondered how this person could smile so mean and be sincere. It was a skill, that was for sure. The baker’s face lit up in recognition, and he snapped his fingers, “Oh! The oatmeal raisin cookies! I’m so sorry! I stopped making those because there is hardly any demand for them. Honestly, the cons outweigh the pros.”
A solid minute passed before Kageyama registered what the baker even said. No more oatmeal raisin cookies. No more of Kageyama’s favorite cookies. What a disaster. Kageyama could feel his mouth hanging open, just slightly, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He was in shock. All he wanted to do at that moment was to sink to his knees and mourn the loss of his cookies. But even he knew that wasn’t really acceptable in public.
Instead, Kageyama just sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead. A headache was coming on, he could feel it. He blew his bangs out of his eyes in desperation. More to himself than anything, really, he mumbled, “Those were my favorite…”
“Ah, man, I’m sorry,” The baker said, rubbing his neck awkwardly. The worst part was that he actually looked sincere, like he really was sorry about the cookies. Kageyama closed his mouth, and forced a smile that he hoped didn’t look too scary. The baker didn’t flinch or anything, so he supposed that was a good sign.
Kageyama looked back to the ugly frosted cookies, and his heart twisted. His poor, poor, oatmeal raisin cookies. He debated whether or not to go home and hold a funeral for the cookies, but decided against it. That might be just a bit too dramatic, even though Oikawa always told him there was no such thing as too dramatic. There was always the option to go somewhere else for the cookies.
Right?
Kageyama looked carefully at the baker. The man was his age, and he was still smiling, the two dimples as visible as ever. Honestly, they were almost like craters. Craters. Kageyama’s eyes widened, and he realized he made another pun. Two in one day! They were both space related -- related to this very bakery.
If there was one thing he loved more than his cookies, then it would be his sense of humor. Kageyama had spent years trying to understand what funny was, what puns were. Now, in this bakery, all his work had come to fruition.
Suddenly, there was no other options for his cookies. He would come to this bakery every day, regardless of whether or not he got his cookies. For the sake of his comedy. That was all. The fact that the baker was super cute and always smiled at him had nothing to do with his decision.
Nope. Not one bit.
The baker shuffled awkwardly behind the counter, seeming somewhat uncomfortable. Kageyama had no clue why. All he had been doing was standing in the same spot for five minutes, talking to himself in his head.
Oh.
Well, yeah.
That made sense, actually.
“Um, if it helps at all,” The baker blurted out, interrupting Kageyama’s inner monologue. He paused, like he was horrified he had said anything out loud, and his cheeks were turning pink. Kageyama thought it was endearing. The baker took a deep breath, probably for courage, and continued, “If -- if it helps, I can give you a discount. On, uh, anything else. That you would want. From here, I mean.”
The baker stuttered nervously, and it took him forever to get his entire thought out. But Kageyama wasn’t in a hurry. In reality, he understood the man’s struggles. It was hard for him to talk to other people as well, so he knew how to be patient with others. Kageyama smiled at the baker, and he visibly relaxed. Score. Kageyama wished he could show this scene to anyone who had ever told him his smile was scary. Of course his smile wasn’t scary. He just cheered this guy up by smiling at him!
“A discount?” Kageyama echoed, obviously confused. Why would he get a discount? He didn’t know the baker personally or anything. There was no reason for him to get a discount. “Why would I need a discount?”
“Because, uh, we don’t have your favorite cookies…” The baker trailed off, unsure how to explain himself. Kageyama was fine without a discount. It wasn’t the baker’s fault, not really. Everyone who didn’t appreciate those cookies were the ones at fault. Kageyama was about to tell the baker just as much, when the doorbell signalling a new customer went off. The baker turned away from him, towards the new customer, “Welcome to Space Station Bakery! I’ll be right with you.”
Kageyama had already felt weird standing in front of the counter not ordering anything. Now it was worse, with someone waiting behind him. He coughed, looking around quickly for anything that he would like, so he could order and get out of the way. “Um, I’ll just have a glazed donut, I think.”
“Great, here you go!” The baker replied, his face as bright as ever. He wrapped the donut in foil and put it in a bag, handing it to Kageyama. Kageyama paid and left as quickly as possible. Even so, he didn’t miss the happy, “Have a nice day!”
If only he could have said, “You, too,” quick enough.
---
Kageyama only needed to visit Space Station Bakery two more times after the first encounter to be formally known as Oatmeal Raisin Cookies Guy. He didn’t really know how he felt about it. Everytime he visited, he would stare wistfully at the spots his cookies were. It wasn’t hard to see where the nickname came from. Each time, with great tolerance, he would get a different baked good. All of them were good, but could never compare to his cookies.
The third time he visited, the blond guy that worked there started calling him by the nickname, too. Kageyama liked it better when the baker called him Oatmeal Raisin Cookies Guy. He didn’t appreciate it when the blond guy -- Tsukishima, from his nametag -- did it. It felt less playful, and more condescending.
The fourth time he visited, he actually had a conversation with the baker. Well, something besides a quick “hello,” and “sorry, no cookies today.” No one was waiting in line behind him, so he was able to relax and chat freely. He ordered two donuts, and munched on them while talking to the baker. “You know, my name isn’t really Oatmeal Raisin Cookies Guy. It’s Kageyama. Uh, that is, if you wanted to call me that, of course.”
“Kageyama, huh?” The baker said, testing the name out on his tongue. He smiled, and Kageyama took a sip of his coffee to hide his own smile. There was something contagious about Mr. Dimples’ smile. “Nah, I think I rather call you Oatmeal Raisin Cookies Guy. Or I can shorten it to Mr. Cookies Guy.”
Kageyama pulled a face.
The baker laughed. It was beautiful, and Kageyama was suddenly glad he decided to come to this bakery. Even if there wasn’t his cookies, it had the baker. Which was enough for him. The baker leaned over the counter, and grinned. “Alright, I won’t call you Mr. Cookies Guy. It doesn’t have the same ring to it, I don’t think. I’m Yamaguchi, by the way.”
“Yamaguchi. Huh. I’ve been calling you Mr. Dimples on and off in my mind,” Kageyama replied. It took all of a half of a second to realize what he had said. That name sounded more like a petname than a nickname. Kageyama was horrified. Luckily, Yamaguchi didn’t seem fazed. He just smiled some more. Kageyama cleared his throat awkwardly and said, “I think I’ll just stick to Yamaguchi. That’s probably better than Mr. Dimples, right?”
“Right,” Yamaguchi chuckled. He plucked a cookie from the stack closest to him, and took a bite. Even when he’s eating he still looks cute, Kageyama thought. He told himself to shut up. Don’t think about things like that. Yamaguchi stood, cracking his back after leaning on the counter for too long. His eyebrows scrunched up, and he looked at Kageyama. “Hey, have you met Tsukki yet?”
Kageyama looked confused. The nickname sounded vaguely familiar. A face popped into his head -- a scowling, blond guy, trying to sell him a donut. Oh, yeah. Kageyama knew him. Tsukishima. What an obnoxious guy. Kageyama nodded, and asked, “Do you mean the angry blond that works here?”
“Yeah, that’s him!”
“I don’t like him,” Kageyama said, almost immediately, his face scrunching up in disgust. He felt bad for answering so quickly. The guy wasn’t really that bad, but he called him Oatmeal Raisin Cookie Guy. There was something different about it when Tsukishima did it, as opposed to when Yamaguchi does it. “He calls me Oatmeal Raisin Cookie Guy too, but it’s worse when it comes from him. I don’t know why.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Yamaguchi tilted his head, like he wanted to say anything, but he didn’t. All he did was just kept smiling. He always smiled. Every time Kageyama saw Tsukishima, after that, there was no nickname.
---
Kageyama visited Space Station Bakery ten more times after that. Each time, he still stared at the spot where his cookies were there. There was always a different baked good, each more offending than the last, but never his cookies. Nothing was different. Even the same sad glance Yamaguchi gave him never changed.
But even so, even after being disappointed every time, he still went. Four, five, six times a week. Most of the time Yamaguchi would be there, sometimes Tsukishima, and sometimes, there was a girl named Yachi, too.
Kageyama had picked up something akin to a routine, when it came to the bakery. He would go, stare mournfully at the spot where his cookies used to be. Eventually he would decide on something that was almost as tasty, but not quite. Usually his decision would come with help from Yamaguchi.
Kageyama would talk to the baker, each time, too. They found out they actually had quite a bit in common. Besides the obvious of being socially awkward, of course. They had long past that point. If anything, Kageyama felt comfortable around the baker. It was nice. Then, at some point during their conversing, Yamaguchi would blush, and Kageyama would blush, too, making up an excuse to leave.
Rinse and repeat.
---
The 11th time Kageyama visited the bakery, Yamaguchi gave him free cookies. The 13th time, Tsukishima had taken one look at him, and went to go get Yamaguchi. The 14th time, they had exchanged numbers. The 16th time, Yamaguchi had wiped icing from Kageyama’s face. The 17th time he visited the bakery, they couldn’t talk at all. They just blushed. It had taken them that long to realize what Yamaguchi had done.
What dorks, the both of them.
---
The 20th time Kageyama visited the bakery, he had talked to Yamaguchi way past closing time. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, he had just come in late, that was all. But they talked for so long they hadn’t realized it had gotten dark, or that it was time for Yamaguchi to close up shop.
“Sorry, I’ll go,” Kageyama apologized, a slight smile on his face. It had been nice talking to Yamaguchi, really. The baker tried to smile back, but somehow seemed disappointed. Kageyama told himself not to think too much into it.
He left the shop, feeling let down. He also told himself not to think too much into that, too. When Kageyama leaned against the wall outside the bakery, waiting for Yamaguchi, he told himself not to think too much about it. They were just friends. He was being nice, waiting for his friend. When Yamaguchi smiled at him, blushing, and Kageyama thought he heard music, he told himself not to think much into it.
“You waited for me?”
Kageyama wanted to say something nonchalant, something cool. He wanted to seem normal, not like he was brimming to the top with awkwardness. But, as always, nothing seemed to go his way. Especially when he blurted, “Can I walk you home?”
“I would really like that,” Yamaguchi murmured, and looked at the ground shyly. Kageyama told himself not to think too much of it. When Yamaguchi slid his hand into Kageyama’s, and they held hands the entire time, Kageyama told himself not to think too much of it.
They were just friends.
That was all.
Right?
---
The 24th visit to the bakery, it had poured. Kageyama had been soaked to the bones, and all he could do was shiver, even if it was warm inside. Yamaguchi had taken one look at him, and pulled him into the employee’s back room.
“Here, take this,” Yamaguchi said, shoving a shirt into Kageyama’s hands. When his face twisted into confusion, he explained, “I always have extra shirts, since I tend to get flour on me, you know?”
Yamaguchi left Kageyama to his own devices, probably to go back to man the bakery counter. Kageyama wasn’t sure he wanted to wear someone else’s shirt. Especially not Yamaguchi’s. But when he sneezed and shivered at the same time, he decided he’d rather not get sick. Kageyama took off his own shirt, quickly replacing it with Yamaguchi’s. Even though Kageyama was taller than the baker -- by a mere centimeter -- the shirt hung loosely on him. If it had been anyone else, Kageyama’s pride would have taken a hit -- because, how muscular was Yamaguchi for the shirt to be like this? -- but it didn’t. He wondered why.
He left the employee’s room, if only because he felt awkward alone, and went out to see Yamaguchi. There was no reason to, but he could feel a blush rising on his neck. All he could think about was the fact that he was wearing Yamaguchi’s shirt, and worse, it smelled like his cookies.
Kageyama smiled, thanked his friend, and bought more pastries than he usually did. He stuffed one in his mouth, mostly to save him from an awkward conversation, and Yamaguchi laughed. The blush got worse, and he briefly wondered if he had a fever. He felt really, really, warm.
“Keep the shirt for as long as you need it, alright?” Yamaguchi told him, with a smile, of course. Kageyama couldn’t respond, he just stuffed another donut in his mouth. All he did was smile awkwardly and wave. Yamaguchi giggled, saying, “See you later, Kageyama.”
When Yamaguchi’s giggle made Kageyama choke on his donut, he knew something was wrong. When Yamaguchi’s smile made him seriously consider he had a fever, he knew something was wrong. When all Kageyama could think about on the way home was Yamaguchi, he knew something had happened.
He just didn’t know what.
Back, safely, at his apartment, he turned out all the lights, and ate his pastries to his heart’s content. They were devoured within minutes. Kageyama laid in bed and thought, and thought, and thought. At half-past eleven at night, he figured it out. It wasn’t slow, or anything. Honestly, it hit him like a bus.
He liked Yamaguchi. As in, more than friends.
It made a lot of sense, really.
---
On the 25th visit after Space Station Bakery stopped selling his cookies -- not that he was counting or anything, of course -- something changed. Kageyama wished he could say he didn’t know what changed, only that he felt like something did. But that was a lie. He knew exactly what had changed.
After the 24th visit and a day-long introspection, Kageyama had realized he liked Yamaguchi. As in, like like. More than friends like. Romantic like. Feelings. He didn’t even know what to call it, just that he knew he had it.
Kageyama entered the bakery, acting as normal as he could after such a life changing revelation. Even then, though, he still fully expected to be completely disappointed. At least that hadn’t changed. Just like any other time, Kageyama walked up to the front, and stared at the spot where his cookies were. It took him a second, he was so used to his oatmeal raisin cookies not being there, but his cookies -- they were there.
His cookies were there! He was seconds away from full-on celebrating when he noticed something else. In front of the cookies, there was a piece of paper. Kageyama can’t believe his eyes.
[RESERVED]
He wanted to cry. This was even worse than when his cookies weren’t there at all. His cookies were there, but he can’t have any. They weren’t his. It honestly felt like the universe was taunting him. His cookies were there, right in front of him, he can smell them, but he can’t have them.
What a disaster.
Kageyama almost turned around right then and there. But that would look suspicious and probably also worry Yamaguchi, and Kageyama was all about being normal. So, he shook his head, cleared his thoughts, and faced the counter.
Yamaguchi came out of the back room, a smile on his face, just like always. When he noticed Kageyama, his smile just got wider. Kageyama’s heart twisted, the baker was just too cute. “Kageyama! You’re here!”
“Um, yeah. Hey,” Kageyama replied. Man, he was incredible at talking! Not. He huffed, and told himself to get over it. “Um, what are the oatmeal raisin cookies doing here? I thought you weren’t selling them anymore.”
“They’re for you, silly,” Yamaguchi said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He bent down to grab the plate of cookies, and put them on the counter. He even took one for himself. Then, he took the [RESERVED] sign and ripped it in half with a lopsided grin.
But Kageyama still didn’t understand. “Why are they reserved?”
“So only you could have them,” Yamaguchi explained. He took Kageyama’s hand, turning it palm up, and put a cookie in his grasp. Kageyama felt like he would spontaneously combust at that very moment. Not only was Yamaguchi basically holding his hand, but he put his favorite cookie in hand. He felt really, truly blessed.
Kageyama started to pull his hand back, so he could eat the cookie, but Yamaguchi held his hand still. Pulling again, Yamaguchi still wouldn’t let go. Kageyama glanced up, both confused and desperate. He didn’t even bother saying anything, because Yamaguchi was looking mischievous as ever, and he isn’t sure he really wanted to know.
“You can have these cookies, if and only if,” Yamaguchi said, and oh god, here we go. This was what Kageyama had been dreading. He would say something like if and only if you never come back here again.
Kageyama had been so sure he had hid his feelings, the same ones he had no clue about, but apparently not. Yamaguchi smiled, an angelic smile that had Kageyama wanting to burst into tears. How cute was this man, this baker? He didn’t want to hear what came next. Yamaguchi drew lines on his palm with his index finger, and cleared his throat. “You can have these cookies, only if you say yes to a date with me.”
“Huh?” Kageyama said, incredibly smoothly. He let out a breath. At least it wasn’t a truce to get him to leave the baker alone forever. But was this really happening? Did Yamaguchi just ask him out? Under the guise of cookies? Incredible. Kageyama shook his head in confusion, but eventually said, “I would have said yes, without the cookies, you know.”
Yamaguchi groaned, letting go of Kageyama’s hand. He put his head in his hand, like he was nursing a headache or a hangover. But he couldn’t hide his smile. Especially not when the baker said, with a playful huff, “Why do I like this idiot? I was trying to be cool, you know!”
“But you are cool, though?”
Smacking his head, Yamaguchi just laughed. Kageyama didn’t know what was funny, but he did know he was happy. He laughed along with Yamaguchi, and felt better than he had in ages.
“Just eat your cookies, Kageyama. Geez.”
---
The 500th time he visited the bakery, he definitely had been keeping track. They kept track of their anniversaries by Kageyama’s visits to the bakery, rather than how many months it had been. No one understood except for them, but that’s how they liked it. That’s how they worked together. Where Kageyama was weak, Yamaguchi was strong. Where Yamaguchi was weak, Kageyama was strong.
They helped each other, and that’s just how they were.
---
“Do you remember the first time we talked? Like, really talked?” Kageyama asked, cuddling Yamaguchi closer to his chest. When there wasn’t a response, Kageyama rolled his eyes and clarified, “You know. When you stopped selling my cookies, and offered me a discount. I smiled at you and you immediately relaxed. Remember that?”
Yamaguchi made a muffled noise that could be counted as a yes, I remember. He turned himself upwards so he could actually see his boyfriend and talk without being muffled. As comfy as it was bearing his face into Kageyama’s shirt, he rather be able to see Kageyama’s expressions. It was easier to converse that way. When Kageyama didn’t say anything else, he prompted, “What about it?”
“Nothing, really. I was just proud that my smile had calmed someone down. I remember that very specifically, you know, that you relaxed after I smiled at you. It was a big deal, since everyone used to tell me that my smile was scary,” Kageyama explained, carding a hand through his boyfriend’s hair.
Yamaguchi laughed. Well, he hadn’t been expecting that. Yamaguchi full-on laughed, and Kageyama found himself feeling somewhat offended. What was even funny? He hadn’t said anything that could be considered funny, right? Huffing, he asked, “What’s so funny, huh?”
“Well,” Yamaguchi drawled playfully, and Kageyama knew this wouldn’t end well. Whenever Yamaguchi was playful, it never ended well. “The first time we talked, I actually did find your smile kind of scary. I’m not saying your smile didn’t calm me down, because it did. But not for the reason you think. Knowing that someone else had trouble interacting with people is what calmed me down.”
Kageyama frowned, and Yamaguchi laughed again.
“I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“If you knew how to respond to that,” Yamaguchi said, pulling himself up to face Kageyama better. He smiled and patted his head, just to annoy him a bit. “If you knew how to respond to that, perfectly, then you wouldn’t be the Kageyama I know.”
He knew he probably doesn’t really look impressed, but still. Yamaguchi was smooth when he wanted to be, that was for sure. Romantic as ever. Kageyama opened his mouth to reply, but he never got the chance. Apparently, Yamaguchi wasn’t finished talking.
“And if you weren’t the Kageyama I know, then I wouldn’t be dating you.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong.
“I’m still mad you thought my smile was scary.”
Yamaguchi’s eyes lit up, and he snorted. How was someone still so damn adorable while snorting? This wasn’t fair. He thought Kageyama’s smile was scary, and he had the actual nerve to still look cute at all times.
“Would you feel better if I made you your oatmeal raisin cookies?”
Kageyama pretended to think hard about it. Then, an annoyed huff, and a dramatic, “Maybe. Only if you wear that apron I bought you. You know, the ugly pink one that says Lawbreaker, Troublemaker, Cookie Baker .”
“Any other requests?” Yamaguchi asked, a playful purr in his voice. Kageyama knew this was dangerous ground. He had to be careful. He shook his head, he didn’t really need anything else. Yamaguchi smirked, winking at him, and said, “Alright. Nothing else, then.”
Fifteen minutes later, Kageyama was in the kitchen, drawn in by the delicious smell of cookies. His cookies. Yamaguchi was there, and sure enough, he was wearing the apron. Apparently, he also was not wearing anything underneath.
Nothing else , indeed.