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“A venti frappachino with soy milk, two caramel shots, whipped cream and cocoa sprinkles, for the road. Make it snappy.” Iwaizumi grips the empty cup in his hand a little tighter as he grits his teeth at the snobbish order from a girl that looked more interested in her nails than the fact she was talking to an actual human being. It’s not that he hates the complicated or over the top drink, but that he would prefer to be treated as more than just an order-taking robot. Before he can crush the cup, there’s a brush of fingers against his lower back in warning – and in comfort. Iwaizumi exhales under the touch and composes himself, putting on a fake yet convincing small smile.
“Of course. Can I get you anything else whilst you wait?”
“No. I would have asked if I did.” There’s an unspoken insult there that Iwaizumi isn’t going to dwell on. He takes her name, passes the empty cup over to Hanamaki behind him, and moves on to wiping down the counter as Hanamaki makes the drink in the background. On the bright side, even though it is a pretentious order, it smells great.
“Order up.” The drink is passed over and the girl takes it before paying with a 5000 Yen note. The drink is less than 5 hundred. Out of frustration – and trying not to murder someone – Iwaizumi grinds his teeth together whilst he counts out the change. It might be a little petty, but he uses as much small change as possible.
“Thank you, have a nice day.” She flips her hair, turns her nose up and stalks off, and this time, Hanamaki doesn’t stop Iwaizumi as he punches the counter. It draws a few eyes, but luckily, the cafe is near empty and there’s no queue. Then, a soft hand is back between his shoulder blades, pressing just enough to be a calming presence without feeling invasive.
“Want to take a quick break?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Hanamaki.” Slipping off the dark brown apron, Iwaizumi retreats to the back room. Hanamaki huffs. He’s used to manning the counter alone, but he’d rather not. He preferred to make the drinks, knowing the recipes and measurements off by heart. Oikawa made drinks too, but he was better at the cold stuff than the hot drinks. Something about the steam and humidity affecting his hair. Matsukawa was their final employee in the small shop, and his main job was cleaning. All four of them have competent medical training.
“Hey, you okay?” Leaning against the counter, Hanamaki misses Matsukawa’s approach.
“Yeah, I’m good. You might wanna ask Iwaizumi that.”
“Ooh. Bad customer?”
“Another one of those stuck up rude girls. I think he almost lost it this time.” Matsukawa snickers under his breath.
“A pity Oikawa’s gone to get the lunch order. I’m sure he’d love to be Iwaizumi’s punching bag again.”
“... Wait, Issei, you seriously don’t think those bruises and scratches are from fighting, do you?” It takes a passing second for Matsukawa to understand and then his eyes widen to a comical extent and his jaw drops. Hanamaki makes the most unattractive, perfect snorting laughter as Matsukawa stands there, utterly flabbergasted. The mop in his hand drops and it’s when the handle clatters against the floor that he finally jolts out of it.
“Holy cheeseballs! Iwaizumi is a bottom?!”
“Switch, actually. Oikawa has literally no filter when we’re talking here.”
“Oh my god. I’m not sure if I pity you, or if I’m jealous of you.”
“Pity me. Please.” Matsukawa puts a supportive hand on Hanamaki’s shoulder before there’s a clatter in the background followed by an ‘oops’. The cleaner rolls his eyes, arms his mop, and heads towards it as Hanamaki takes his turn to smirk. He sets on cleaning up the machine that super heats the liquids. His stomach growls a little, reminding him of how he sent Oikawa out to get lunch. Half an hour ago. He makes the executive decision to take a little bit out of Oikawa’s pay, because really, he only should have taken 15 minutes. The subway is literally 3 minutes around the corner and it doesn’t take long to make the usual for four people. Iwaizumi usually completes the trip in an amazing 7 minutes, but then again, he rings ahead to give them time to make the subways.
“I’m baaaack~!” Scratch that thought about deducting pay, Oikawa comes bearing bags from the bakery a little further away – the one that makes his favourite cream puffs.
“Oikawa Tooru, if those are what I hope they are, I might kiss you.” Oikawa laughs as he places the bag on the side and takes a wrapped box that fits approximately five bakery products.
“Ooh, won’t your boyfriend get jealous~?” Matsukawa, having finished cleaning up a puddle of coffee, is in hearing range and makes a scoffing sound.
“Oh please, Oikawa. Every one of us here has thought about kissing you at least once.” There’s a slight dusting of rose over Oikawa’s cheeks, but he masks it with a confident smile, hands on hips and chest puffed out proudly.
“Well, of course! I am the resident pretty boy.” He unties the silky pink ribbon from the box and Hanamaki’s hungry eyes see it almost as if golden light was spilling forth to present the treasure. A chocolate muffin for Matsukawa, a fruit tart for Oikawa, a caramel slice for Iwaizumi, and two cream puffs for Hanamaki.
“... Issei. I’m so sorry. I must leave you to go with Oikawa.”
“Yeah, you know, I’m not even mad. Those cream puffs are expensive.” Oikawa looks extremely proud of himself as the duo dig in, not caring for dinner before dessert. The fragrant scent of a meatball marinara sub must have persuaded Iwaizumi out of his little meltdown, because he appears from absolutely nowhere right next to Oikawa.
“Gimme food.” With a shriek, Oikawa leaps into the air and drops the bag of subs. Luckily, when it comes to food, Iwaizumi is determined and fast beyond belief. He catches the handle of the bag, turns on foot, and walks quickly back to the staff room.
“H-Hey! Iwaizumi! Bring that back, I’m starving!” Hanamaki, with cream smeared over his face, gives chase. Matsukawa and Oikawa look at each other with soft expressions caused by their boyfriends, before calmly walking after them with dessert box in hand. They leave the customers to themselves but leave the staff door adjacent so they can hear any trouble. The little sofas comfortably fit two people despite being not comfortable at all. Iwaizumi is already eating his meatball marinara sub and Hanamaki is unwrapping his own turkey sub.
“Mattsun, yours is the one closes to the top~. Or it was, until Hajime and Makki messed it up.” Matsukawa snatches the bag from Hanamaki with a playful glare before fishing out his own sub – a tuna and sweetcorn one. Oikawa’s is a plethora of ingredients thrown together haphazardly in such a way that it is his own creation. It’s quiet as they eat, mouths too full of food to speak. Then, breaking through the quiet and calmness of the coffee shop, the bell atop the door dings. Hanamaki dutifully puts down his unfinished sub on the wrapper and lift a flat palm to indicate he’s got this one.
Matsukawa sighs after swallowing down the last bite, dropping his chin into his palms and scanning over the other two. Iwaizumi has made a mess, but that’s okay because he’s licking it off his fingers. Oikawa is watching Iwaizumi shamelessly with a heavy blush, subway falling from his hands. The filling drips onto the floor but Oikawa doesn’t seem to notice, mind too far in the gutter.
“Hey, Iwaizumi. How about you go help ‘Hiro out. We all know he’s helpless on the tills.” Oikawa shoots Matsukawa an exaggerated look of betrayal as Iwaizumi stops licking his fingers and instead wipes them clean on a serviette.
“Good idea. I wouldn’t want him to break anything.” He leaves, completely oblivious to how Oikawa’s gaze follows him out the room with a hunger that cannot be cured with sandwiches or subs. Once the staff room door is shut, Oikawa whips his head around to Matsukawa with high velocity, which could have given him whiplash. As it his, his neatly placed haired is jolted out of place, strands falling into his face as they’re forcefully lashed from their styling.
“Why did you say that?!”
“Hey, I’m saving you the embarrassment of getting a boner at work.”
“I-! But! ...Okay, you got me there.” Clicking his tongue and winking in a friendly manner, Matsukawa returns to nibbling his subway. Oikawa sighs deeply, twirling a section of his fringe around his index finger until he gets bored.
“I’m gonna go help out front. There has to be something that needs doing.” Matsukawa checks the watch on his wrist.
“Yeah, it’ll hit lunch rush soon. Good luck, you three.”
“I don’t need your luck, I make my own~.” Oikawa flips his hair with a superficial smile that has Matsukawa laugh, before he parts back to behind the counter as the bell above the door entrance rings and rings. The queue must be building. Finishing off his subway, Matsukawa changes into a new apron for cleaning and grabs the cart from the storage cupboard. Usually, he’d only bother with a mop and bucket, but the mad twenty minutes at the beginning of lunch generally produced its fair share of spills and messes.
In the short time it had taken him to gather the equipment, Oikawa, Hanamaki, and Iwaizumi had already started diligently working through the queue. It’s times like these that Matsukawa can see they truly belong in their completely different roles. Iwaizumi doesn’t stress. Ever. Which is why he’s great at managing long lines like this with a surprisingly calm head. As long as he gets treated like a human instead of just a robot taking orders.
Oikawa has a dexterity that is amazing working with all the small buttons on the blender and adjusting settings on all the equipment he uses for the cold drinks. Hanamaki is quick and clever with all the ingredients and syrups, continuously heating and steaming and pouring and measuring. In these really tough times, Iwaizumi will manage topping the drinks with squirty cream and a squiggle of sauce on top. It helps cut down time.
Watching them now, Matsukawa can see how perfect it was for the four of them to get a little cafe together, even if it was originally a secondary job to support them. Oikawa was often absent thanks to volleyball season, but he drew in the crowds when he was home and took the time to recuperate his knee, just in case.
Iwaizumi visits homes as a physical therapist, going from the young and injured to the old and weary. It doesn’t take up much time, however, with his small but loyal bunch of clients. The cafe gives him a stable income in case there’s a fortnight or month without any appointments booked.
Hanamaki paints in his free time. He’s here at the coffee shop the most, but on days off, he’s at an art gallery or exhibition with his own work, something he’s very proud of. A couple of paintings he couldn't bear to part with (paintings of his friends and former team) still hang in the coffee shop for everyone to see, but no one to buy.
Matsukawa himself writes when he isn’t cleaning, filling out a sequel to the novel he’s already published. Not a bestseller, but a good profit all the same. Most of it was written around the antics that the former 'seijou 4' got up to in their high school years, continuing on until the present. He plans to reveal the main character is actually the author in the third book. He leanes with his chin atop folded hands on the top of the broom with lidded eyes as he watches his friends - his family - work their way through the lunch rush, soft with love that ranged from romantic to platonic.
“Excuse me sir, I’ve dropped my drink.”
... Well... Back to work.