Work Text:
You’re slumped in your chair, scrolling mindlessly on your laptop, eyes glazing over as you try your best to actually take in any of the words on the document in front of you.
It’s not working so well.
With a sigh, you shove yourself away from the desk, standing up and dusting off your skirt. That’s enough of trying to read that stupid proposal. (At least for now.)
“Coffee?” You say as you peer into the office next to your own.
Kuroo drags his gaze from the screen on his desk to meet your eyes. He arches an eyebrow. “Are you just trying to avoid working?”
“As if,” You scoff. “I’m just trying to encourage camaraderie among coworkers. Apparently only some of us care enough to do so.”
He rolls his eyes. “Sure, sure.”
“Come on, you have to come with me.” You make your way over to his desk, dragging his chair away from his desk.
“Why, so you can call it a meeting and charge the coffee to your corporate card?” He snarks as he leans back, putting his hands behind his head.
“Kuroo!” You let out a gasp. “You know I would never do that.” The edges of your lips quirk upwards in a smirk. “I’m always a responsible steward of company funds.”
At that, Kuroo lets out a barking laugh. “Alright, alright.” He stands up, shutting his laptop and following you towards the elevators, off to get the coffee that, to be honest, he needs.
The two of you make easy conversation about the upcoming V-League games on your walk to the coffee shop, and Kuroo finds himself grateful for your company, despite his earlier snark.
You had both joined the Japan Volleyball Association at about the same time, having graduated from the same university, and started work straight after. How you both had managed to somehow never cross paths despite both playing volleyball at the exact same college was a mystery to both of you, but Kuroo was glad that fate had brought you together now.
Better late than never, right?
You’d proved a reliable ally in the corporate world, always a few steps away when he needed a second set of eyes on a presentation, a quick sanity check on some numbers, or even just someone to listen to him rant about how Sakusa Kiyoomi staunchly refused to enter the twenty-first century by getting an official Instagram.
“Sakusa-san, I know you’re not big on publicity, but it would really help boost your image if you opened an account!”
”I’ll pass.”
When you had asked instead of Kuroo after hearing about how he’d hit a wall with the stubborn wing spiker, Sakusa had irritatingly changed his tune.
”Sakusa-san, it would be really wonderful if you helped us out by making an official account! Our bosses have been hounding us about getting all of the V-League players to make them, and we’d really appreciate it!”
”Fine, if I have to.”
What the hell, man.
Anyways, the bottom line was that you made his life easier in a lot of ways. And he was eternally grateful to have a coworker like you, someone he felt comfortable with, and could always rely on to have his back.
And in the amalgamation of positive feelings he had about you, he would pointedly ignore the fact that he had developed a crush on you in the past few years since you’d been working together, thank you very much.
Besides, who could really blame him for it? You were hardworking, friendly, considerate, and, well, yes, you were pretty. And you liked volleyball! He was pretty sure half of the V-League players you worked with had at least some kind of attraction to you. The ones that liked women, anyway.
You were colleagues though, and had never shown any signs of being interested in anything more than your friendship. Even if you hung out outside of work, getting drinks with him and sometimes his friends, it didn’t mean you were into him. Assuming that was a perfect way to get a workplace harassment case at his dream job, despite what Kenma tried to prod him into.
“Why don’t you ask her out?”
“She’s my coworker, you idiot.”
“...and? You like her.”
He hoped he wasn’t as transparent to everyone else as he apparently was to his best friends. Lately even Bokuto had seemed to notice something was up.
“Is your girlfriend coming today?”
“She’s not my girlfriend, Bo, she’s my coworker.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Why do you always look all sour when Tsum-Tsum talks to her then?”
“I do not!”
He decided to chalk it up to his friends knowing him too well, unfortunately.
Nevertheless, he decided to choke those feelings down as he listens to you chatter on about how you’re so excited for the next game, and how your niece’s favorite player was Bokuto, and you really hoped he’d be willing to sign a jersey for her.
(Yes, Bokuto would absolutely be willing.)
“Do you have plans this weekend?” You say suddenly, and he jolts to attention. “I mean, other than the Adlers game, I guess.”
“Not really, no, why?”
You grab your phone from your purse, swiping to unlock it before gently tapping at the screen and spinning it around to face him. “I was gonna go try out this new coffee shop near my place, they do seasonal flavors and they just added a hojicha latte that sounds pretty good to their menu.”
The social media profile of the cafe isn’t overly curated, simple square photos making up a somewhat mismatched grid. One photo is of a matcha latte, another is the facade of the building, dark wood tones and foliage creeping up the side, followed by a photo of what he assumes is a local stray cat. You watch him inspect the profile, and then tap on their most recent post. It’s a shot of their menu, with recent springtime additions circled and underlined.
“Well?” You say, staring at him from beneath long lashes, eyes wide and expectant.
He swallows hard, squirming a bit under your gaze and the unspoken, possibly unintended, implication of your invitation. After all, it’s his fault he’s got this unrequited crush on his coworker - you probably didn’t intend it to be anything other than friendly.
He still can’t help but think you look pretty like this, slight pout on your pretty pink lips, shuffling forward in the line to order your drinks. The quiet murmur of the surrounding cafe-goers gets louder as the silence continues, and he blinks.
“Sure, I can go.” He finally replies.
Your face lights up immediately, and this is exactly the kind of thing he likes about you. You wear your emotions so plainly, unconcerned with whether people think it’s too much. If you’re happy, you’re smiling brightly, so much that he wonders if it hurts. If you’re sad, your entire form shows it, wilting like an unwatered flower. And when you’re mad, well, god help whoever caused it, but you have this habit of scrunching up your nose, shooting daggers into the offending person with your eyes.
He likes it when you’re happy best. So if his friendship makes you happy, he’ll keep these feelings under lock and key, swallow down whatever urge he has to kiss your face when you laugh at one of his dumb jokes and it sounds like the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.
“Great!” You chirp. “It’s a date!”
Kuroo thinks his brain has short circuited as he watches you step up to the counter to order. It’s like you can hear the dial up noise in his brain as he processes your words, and he feels his mouth open and close, struggling to find any words that seem appropriate in this situation.
“Iced Americano?” You call over your shoulder to him.
“Yeah.” He mumbles.
You’re going to be the death of him.