Chapter Text
Coffee shops were always busy at 10 am, 4 pm, and 8 pm.
Kirishima knew when the rush would start and end like the back of his hand—to be fair, he had been working at Rocket's Cafe for 2 years, so it would be weird if he didn't know when the rushes were. That being said, he knew from the moment he unlocked the glass door at 8:30 am, turned on the lights, put on his apron, he knew he had a maximum of 1hour and 30 minutes before a few customers started arriving and asking for the longest orders known to man.
So he set to work, getting all of the ingredients and any of the equipment needed for the day. Today was Sunday, which meant there were still rushes, but this time it was 10 am, 12 pm, and then 6 pm. Thankfully he was only working till about 1 pm, and then afterwards he needed to go to the gym and then the library to study. He was studying kinesiology—given the fact he loved working out—and was 2 years into college.
Speaking of college, his favorite classmate—Denki—had just arrived for his morning shift as well.
"Ejirou my man!" Denki yelled from across the cafe. "Are you ready to have a wonderful day with a wonderful rush of customers who can't figure out what drink they ordered?"
Kirishima chuckled. "More than ever. Maybe today we'll even get a complaint that we put in too many shots in their Venti Americano, even though there's 4 shots in it." He finished setting up all of theglasses and mugs on the counter before grabbing his apron and putting it on. As he was tying it in the back, Denki began to speak.
"I know we're pretty short on staff since Mina is gone for abroad and Iida is switching to online for the mornings, so I did us a tiny favor and put up flyers around the area." Denki played with the little black streak in his yellow hair as he spoke, sparking curiosity in Kirishima. Denki wouldn't do that if he wasn't nervous...
"Who applied Denki?" He asked it flat.
Denki looked away. "One person so far, and he's arriving here in about 10 minutes.." He glanced to the side, suddenly transfixed on the tiny water streak a glass had.
"Do I know him?"
"No."
"Then why are you talking as if he's the epitome of the devil?"
"...Because he is."
Bull. Denki was talking just to talk. Kirishima was sure he could figure out who the guy was, and they would get fully situated with no conflicts between them! Easy peasy, no need for Denki to be so sour. "Do either of us know him?"
"No," Denki replied. "He's a transfer from a different college up north, but I think he grew up around here when he was little. We exchanged contacts, but he didn't really talk to me, only answered my basic questions."
"Okay so he's a regular just like anyone else."
"No!" Denki's head whipped to Kirishima. "I swear there's something off about him. I don't know what he looks like, but I'm pretty sure he'll look like a creep that I don't intend to keep. Don't mind the rhyme.
"A creep." Kirishima gave him a flat look. Denki could really be an airhead sometimes, and right now, he was bigger than a hot air balloon. "Explain what a creep would look like for a college student.
"Well, you know," Denki said nervously. "Probably long, dark, and shaggy hair. Gloomy eyes, maybe short or impossibly tall. And probably a twink. Or just a boring college students who looks like he watches BDSM fora living."
Holy hell Denki was really reaching with this description.
"Denki, shut the hell up before I make you."
Kirishima paused.
He never cussed—actually he did, but not often. The only times he did was when he was truly pissed off about something. Yet, he wasn't pissed off? He wasn't angry, upset, or anything of the sort. Just a little annoyed, sure, but definitely not pissed off. So either the morning just wasn't it, or something was telling him that this new applier was actually fine and Denki was just being overdramatic. He turned around and busied himself with a random task while waiting for the applier to show up.
Denki made no comment on the swearing, instead choosing to put down the rest of the chairs throughout the cafe. It was just a few minutes of this "busy work" before they both heard the bell against the door ring, indicating someone had walked in.
Kirishima paused his cleaning, beginning to speak as he looked up, "Welcome to Rocket's—"
Holy mother of the gods.
If Kirishima had a suspicion that he was gay beforehand, now was really confirming it.
At the door stood a person he could simply describe as ethereal. Spiking blonde hair—but not too spiky, more fluffy actually. Perfect pale skin, a little on the tan side if he really looked, with a black tan accompanying the defined arms that bulged with veins as the boy's arms were lifted. Dark baggy jeans, but not too baggy, and beige dunks. Kirishima's eyes roamed over the body he could quite literally confirm was sculpted by the gods themselves—perhaps the kid was the son of Achilles, he was willing to bet it—before reaching his face. And right there, as his eyes met with burning crimson, time stopped, and he could only stare.
If there were an unlimited amount of similes and metaphors for him to use about the boy's eyes, he'd take full advantage of that. Blood colored gems, darker than rubies, reflecting light from the lamps above. It almost painted them orange if Kirishima wasn't paying attention. But oh, he was. It was a clash of darkness against his own brighter reds. Like shining a light on a ruby and watching different edges emit a brighter shade than its original color. The forces collided and fought for dominance, and Kirishima would be dammed if he didn't feel that tug to urge closer.
"Is there something on my face, hair for brains?"
Oh.
Never mind.
"What?" Kirishima replied. "Wait, never mind. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare! You're the first person I've seen this morning and it just took me a moment to adjust—I'm rambling I'm sorry. " Good going, now he looked like a total fool in front of Mr Hottie. And he was rambling, so the chances were just getting lower and lower and lower.
Denki popped himself into the "conversation," a big grin on his face. "Are you Bakugou?"
The blonde nodded, eyes glancing to meet Kirishima's for a split second before reverting back to Denki's. "I assume you nerds didn't expect me to come in so early?"
"No no, we were expecting you early, just now right now." He held out a hand to Bakugou, to which the blonde accepted the handshake. He then walked over to Kirishima and put a hand on his shoulder. "You've already met me, but this is my coworker Kirishima Ejirou. He always works the morning shifts, but sometimes closing depending on his class schedule."
Bakugou held Kirishima's gaze for longer than the redhead was comfortable with, but why would he complain when the whole world was staring at him? "Yes—I'm sorry I'm still not awake. Pleased to meet you!" He extended his hand, waiting for the same handshake Denki had been given. Bakugou simply stared at him. It wasn't a rude stare, or a disgusting one, but more like he was so deep in thought he hadn't even realized Kirishima was standing there awkwardly while waiting for a handshake.
"Fuck, my bad." He grabbed Kirishima's hand, giving a slight shake. It was firm, a little calloused—he could tell Bakugou did heavy lifting—but overall soft. Fuck, why was Kirishima putting so much thoughts into a simple handshake with the guy?
"It's good to finally meet you," Denki finally settled with. Thank the lord Kirishima didn't need to do the talking. "It's quite right now, so how about I show you around a little bit before the rush starts? Then we can let you do the easy tasks while we take care of the crazy amount of customers."
Bakugou simply nodded. Was that all he could do???
Kirishima watched as he followed Denki to the area where they made the coffees. As he walked past Kirishima, their shoulders brushed, and if Kirishima wasn't mentally freaking out at the moment, he would've sworn he heard a hitch in Bakugou's breath, like the boy was shocked—in a good way?
Whatever. It was just a small touch.
Gosh, Kirishima needed to get ahold of himself.