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Kunikida is always the first one in.
He rubs his eyes under his glasses and sighs. The lights flicker on when he presses a switch embedded into the pristine wall, illuminating gleaming stainless steel counters and black contact cooktops, and he loops the green string of his apron around his neck and ties the other one around his waist.
Time to get to work.
He settles into a familiar routine, pressing the preheat button on his oven and setting some yeast in warm water to let it activate- flour, sugar, a bit of baking powder, a pinck of salt, a dash of cinnamon, nutmeg- he mixes and makes a dip in the middle with the pads of his fingers, pours in wet ingredients, mixes, scoops it into a sheet pan to start his first cakes of the day. The ingredients for fresh icing are already on the counter. He washes his hands and wipes off the flour settled on the lenses of his glasses.
The silence of the kitchen relaxes him. He sighs in contentment.
~~~~~~
Two hours later, the entire cafe smells like baked goods and fillings, and Kunikida pushes the bridge of his glasses up his nose with his knuckle. Nearly finished with today’s preliminaries, but it’s about time that-
The belll above the front door jingles, and he doesn’t need to stick his head out past the flap over the door to the kitchen to know who it is.
“Kunikida-kun!” The voice of his ever-annoying business partner calls. “You done yet?”
He rolls his eyes.
“No.” He replies, wrist deep in sticky, elastic dough that has just finished rising.
“We don’t open for another hour, and I’m on schedule, as always.”
Dazai brushes past the flap, grinning.
“Anything new today?” He asks, leaning on the counter, knowing the answer to the question he asks every day full-well.
Kunikida doesn’t even look up at him, instead glancing back at his trusty recipe notebook, careful not to spill anything on its neat, pristine pages.
“Of course not.” He mutters, finally stopping in stretching his dough after exactly three minutes. “All my recipes have been painstakingly perfected. There’s no need for deviation.”
Dazai pulls at the his apron string, snickering when it unravels and Kunikida tries to twist around to see the problem.
“Whatever you say, Kunikida-kun.” He sighs, pushing back off the counter and turning back to the front. “I’m going to warm up the machines.”
The scent of sweet coffee and aftershave follows him on the way out.
~~~~~~
Ten minutes before opening time.
The whirr of coffee machines sounds muffled from Kunikida’s place in the back kitchen, but coffee permeates the very air- warm, bitter, heady. Kunikida balances another tray of warm, sweet buns on his arm and brings it out to the front, crouching next to where Dazai’s standing to slide it into the back of the glass display case.
The bell rings again.
He doesn’t look up, too busy arranging the buns precisely on the tray to spare a glance, but calls to Dazai.
“Hey,” he says irritatedly, “idiot, did you forget to lock the door after you came in? There’s still ten…” he trails off, finally looking up, “minutes…”
Damn.
“Oh!” Dazai whirls around to glance at Kunikida, a faux-innocent smile plastered on his scheming asshole face. “Kunikida-kun, did I forget to tell you?” He gestures over the counter. “This is Nakajima Atsushi; apparently he and his sister opened up a flower shop across the street, so naturally I struck a deal with him!”
Atsushi smiles bashfully over his armful of flowers.
“Atsushi supplies is with fresh flowers every day.” Dazai explains, “and he and his sister get free coffee!”
Kunikida blinks. He nearly forgets he’s squatting on the floor.
“Ah.” He says, the beginning of a burn in his calves prompting to stand hastily up. “Nice to meet you. Kunikida Doppo.”
He can’t seem to feel anything other than moderate surprise. Nakajima is- well, really cute.
Atsushi returns his greeting, smile still ever-present, and sets the two bouquets he’s holding on the counter.
“I brought these.” He begins, glancing at Dazai. “Do you guys have- ah- vases, or-”
Dazai claps.
“Be right back!” He exclaims, hurrying to the supply closet, presumably to grab two of the cylindrical glass containers that weird water he liked to drink came it.
There’s a moment of awkward silence.
“Eh.” Kunikida says, to break the pause. “So what made you open a flower shop?”
Atsushi looks up at him, eyes wide. Nice eyes. Big and green, set in a pale face, white hair framing his face. He looks good in his uniform- a white dress shirt, black apron, black slacks.
Ah, fuck.
“Hah,” he says sheepishly, glancing away and back, “actually, my sister’s still in school, so I needed a job in the area- it was actually my friend’s idea, and we opened it together.”
“Ah.” Kunikida replies.
Atsushi smiles at him.
“What do you do?” He asks.
Kunikida glances down at his- ah, shit.
“I’m-” he mutters, wiping his hands on his apron, which he’s just remembered is covered in various baking materials- actually, it’s probably in his hair and on his face too, shit- “I bake. Dazai and the others run the front.”
His face heats up. What a first impression! He curses to himself.
Atsushi, however, doesn’t seem to notice- he marvels at the sweets in the display case with wide eyes.
“Really?” He asks, something like wonder in his voice. Kunikida flushes and distractedly adjusts his glasses.
“Yeah.” He says. Where the hell is-
Dazai bursts back through the kitchen.
“I’m back!” He exclaims, holding up two glass containers.
Atsushi focuses on him.
“Oh, those will work well!” He says, picking his flowers back up again.
“Can we use tap water?” Dazai asks. “Will that be alright for the flowers?”
Atsushi nods.
“Sure.” He says, and Dazai sticks the first bottle under the tap and begins filling it with water. Kunikida shuffles his feet and debates whether he should retreat back to the kitchen.
“Oh, Atsushi,” Dazai’s voice breaks through his thoughts, “is there any specific meaning to these flowers?” He’s smiling again. That never means anything good.
Atsushi starts.
“Oh!” He exclaims. “Right- they have different meanings in the West, I think, but this arrangement is based around bluebells and daffodils- bluebells for gratitude, and daffodils for respect."
Atsushi smiles sweetly.
"For celebrating a new business relationship.” He says, and Kunikida feels his heart commit a crime of a cliche- a missed beat.
Dazai laughs and grins back, setting the flowers in water- they pop colorfully against the warm wood and stainless steel accents of their cafe, and he leaves one by the cash register and brings another to sit on the wall edge of the display case that hosts Kunikida’s pastries.
The bell by the door jingles.
Opening time.
“Ah,” Atsushi starts, “I should get back!”
“Come by for coffee anytime!” Dazai waves, and Atsushi calls a goodbye to both of them, vanishing out the door. Kunikida blinks after him.
The first customer of the day are regulars- private eye Edogawa Ranpo strides up with a “yo, Dazai!”, followed by his sister, surgeon Yosano Akiko, who leans against the counter, peering at today’s selection of snacks.
“Do you have those custard buns?” She asks, looking up at Kunikida. “Ah- Kunikida-kun, your face is really red.”
He stiffens.
“Eh?” Ranpo turns to look at him, scrutinizing his features before leaning back with wide eyes. “Whoa, it is!”
“Shut up!” He tries to frown, to get the blood back away from his cheeks. “It’s nothing. Mind your own business.”
“Now, is that how you speak to your favorite customers?” Yosano says, an insiduously curious look on her face. Shit. Of course he has to work near the biggest gossip hogs this side of Yokohama. “Now, Dazai-”
Dazai smirks.
“I think Kunikida-kun has a crush…” He sing-songs, lips curled up insufferably smugly. “…on that cute new flower boy-”
Kunikida crushes his windpipe in his hand.