Work Text:
You’d had your eye on him for a while. Sweet, polite, a little shy. Exactly your type. He ordered the same thing each time he came in, usually early on his way to work. Your coworkers always conveniently needed to leave the register when he came in, so you took his order. Kiyotaka Ijichi, you’d learned his name after the first time you’d met, and it’d been burned into your brain ever since. You’d flirted with him a little, all casually, and he’d never really responded to it. Polite, a little flustered, and always with a smile - you wanted more though, a clear answer as to what his responses meant. Uninterested or oblivious, nobody at the cafe was sure. But each time he came in, you made his coffee with just a little bit of extra care, and scrawled his name on the side in your best penmanship. Just the little things.
You were on the opening shift today, with the new start, it was his first time on the open without the manager.
“So what’s the deal with you and that guy?” He asked as he was lifting chairs down from tables, setting them up neatly while you stocked the display with fresh baked goods.
“What guy?” You asked him in return, glancing over your shoulder with furrowed brows before you refocused.
“You know the one- come on, every time he comes in you magically end up on the register.”
“Oh, Kiyotaka. Yeah, there’s no deal. I just like him a lot, I’ve been flirting with him for months now.” You explained with a shrug, adjusting price tags on their little stands.
“And he doesn’t flirt back?”
“Not really, but he doesn’t shoot me down either. We’ve got a running bet on whether he’s too polite to refuse me, or he’s too oblivious to realise I’m interested.” You noticed that the scraping of chairs had stopped, so you turned to find the new hire had stopped with a chair in hand, lifted just a few inches off the floor, staring at you.
“What?”
“Have you tried.. I dunno, just being direct? Actually giving him a chance to say yes or no?” He suggested, to which you only scoffed and turned back to filling the display.
“Come on man, that takes the fun out of it. No point if it ruins the chase.”
“Make it part of the game then, you’re not stupid, you could come up with something.” He told you as the chair finally returned to the ground, and was pushed under the table. With that job done, the new hire returned to behind the counter to check the fridge was fully stocked.
“Like what?” You asked after a brief silence.
“I dunno, he’s your man.”
“He’s not my man, he- he’s a customer, come on.”
“But you want him to be your man.” The guy’s eyes peered at you judgmentally over the countertop.
“A little, I guess.”
“Then come up with something. Something obvious, but fun.”
Those words rang in your head for the rest of the opening tasks, and then the cafe was open and people were pouring in, all headed for their demanding corporate jobs - blegh, you could never. That one regular who’d ended up meeting their new boyfriend because they were paying for each other’s orders passed through, and gave you a tip, and it felt like the morning was off to a perfect start.
Kiyotaka came through just as the morning rush was coming to an end, and you caught the new hire looking at you. Trying to goad you into making a choice. You took his order, then stepped up to the coffee machine to make it. New hire took over the register for the next customer.
Paper cup in one hand, and a pen in the other, you stared for a moment. It was so cliche - surely, you couldn’t. No, it was ridiculous. But.. it was fun. Flirty. Direct. After swallowing a lump of anxiety in your throat, you wrote something new on his cup. Not his name, but a little message.
If I wanna plan our first date, what number should I text?
It was simple, it had to be to fit on the paper takeout cup, and then you finished up brewing his coffee. You handed the drink to the new hire to deliver, and disappeared into the back so you weren’t there when he picked it up, didn’t have to see his reaction.
The new hire came to collect you after a few minutes.
“What did you do?” He asked.
“I did what you suggested - I was direct.”
“He looked pretty pleased.”
“Don’t get my hopes up.” You told him with a groan, and after the manager arrived to help with the rest of the day, you were ushered back up to the counter to work as normal.
Why the hell did you decide to do that on a Friday? Of all days! You knew he didn’t come in on weekends, presumably because he too came in for his morning coffee before heading off to his average corporate job. So, you suffered through the weekend, waiting for Monday to roll around. You’d never wanted it to be Monday before.
You texted the work group chat through the weekend, with your coworkers laughing and teasing you over the whole ordeal, but still you felt good about it. Maybe he’d say no, and the ‘fun’ would be ruined, but at least then you’d have your answer. Maybe it was better that way. Not chasing after a guy who was too polite to ever tell you he just wasn’t interested. Or maybe he was interested..
You refused to let yourself think about that option too much, lest you get too caught up and only end up more crushed by a no.
Over the two days, you worked one afternoon shift, but otherwise you were at home in your apartment. You’d cleaned up, cooked your breakfast meal prep for the week ahead, played some games with your friends, and even called home to speak to your family. It was, all in all, a productive weekend. Mostly to keep yourself occupied.
Not that it worked too much, when your overactive imagination got to work there was no stopping it. Especially when you were asleep.
You’d have been angry when you woke if it hadn’t been so hot.
Getting ready for your Monday morning shift, knowing that today would likely be the day that you got your answer from Kiyotaka - was he interested, or was it time to give up the game?
Of course it was that night your mind had chosen to conjure up a less than helpful dream. Thankfully, nothing inappropriate, but definitely filling your head with fantasies. As you pulled on your uniform, fixed your hair, made your way to the cafe, and did the opening duties, all you could think of was snippets of your dream. His hand in yours, sitting opposite each other at a restaurant, curling up together on your sofa, a shared chaste kiss that left you wanting more. God, you hoped he said yes.
You hoped he came back at all.
The morning rush passed in a blur. Customers familiar and new, hands moving in a rhythm you’d perfected in your time at the cafe. Cards tapped, coffees made, pastries warmed. You’d hardly felt the passage of time at all, and thankfully it kept you from thinking too much. So much so, that when you saw Kiyotaka walk in, you almost dropped the clean plates you’d been carrying. Thankfully, the manager appeared behind you to take them before you could ruin a perfectly good stack of plates.
“Go handle register.” He instructed you, and you just nodded, unable to say a word. You quickly logged into the register, and prepared to take his order. The same as usual, you assumed. He ordered quickly, just as polite as always, and you put it through. He didn’t say anything else. You were sure you’d fucked it up - he wasn’t interested, and now you had to face that reality. You made his coffee, scrawling his name quickly on the cup. He took it, and he left. Hardly wasted enough time to actually thank you.
“I fucked it up.” You muttered with a deep sigh, leaning back against the counter, hands covering your face.
“No you didn’t.” The new hire chirped beside you.
“Dude, he barely talked to-”
“Move your hands.” He said firmly, and despite how good it sounded to dump a blender of ice water over his head, you let them fall to your sides. He was holding something.
“What’s that?” You asked, looking at the little square of paper held between two of his fingers.
“It’s for you. Read it.” Quickly, you plucked it from between his fingers, and turned it over to read what was written on it in blue ink.
For that date xxx-xxx-xxx
"He gave me his number.” You mumbled, staring at it with wide eyes.
“Text him on lunch, customers coming.” The manager prompted, but he winked at you and squeezed your shoulder.
You got his number.
Sure enough, on your break you scurried off to sit in your car with your lunch, and you pulled out your phone. His number was entered with shaky hands, contact name added, and you spent a moment agonising over what to say, before you started simple.
Slipped it into the tip jar, huh? Slick
It took just a few minutes before his reply came in.
You opened with a message on my coffee cup
Thought I’d return the favour.
Cute, and funny. You were so glad he’d decided to take a chance on you.
Well, I’ve got Wednesday off
Dinner, 7pm?
I’ll be there
You spent a little while longer confirming details and planning, then both of you had to return to your respective work days.
Then, you’d experienced what was possibly the longest Tuesday of your life. Never had a day of the week dragged as long as Tuesday did that week, the only thing that stood between you and finally going on a date with Ijichi, because you got to call him that now.
Wednesday, you let yourself sleep in, wanting to be sure you felt rested before the rest of the day ahead of you. You wasted some time gaming, then as five o’clock rolled around, you started getting ready. Shower, shave, hair, clothes, shoes, coat. Keys, wallet, and flowers. Maybe he wouldn’t appreciate flowers, but he seemed like the type of guy to appreciate the gesture anyway. You hoped he was that type of guy anyway. There was nothing you wanted more than to make a good second impression. A good impression of who you were when you weren’t just the barista who made his morning coffee.
He was there ten minutes early, you were seven minutes early. He liked the flowers. Your server brought a vase for them so that they could stay fresh in some water for the duration of the date. You paid, even though he’d tried to insist on splitting. You ordered your own food, but both got a taste of the others, just out of curiosity. Ijichi was smart, and had a dry sense of humour that really surprised you, but made you laugh every time without fail. It was sort of a dream date really.
After you finally pulled yourselves from the restaurant, you walked together from the restaurant to a nearby park, and settled on a bench even though it was dark, and you both had work the next day. You didn’t want to leave though, how could you?
“I’ve had a really good time tonight.” You told him, glancing over at him briefly with a smile before you returned your gaze to the pair of ducks swimming in the pond you sat by.
“So did I. I was.. quite surprised, actually. I thought it would be more awkward- well, me awkward. Not that I thought you’d be awkward, I just-” you couldn’t help laughing. With a movement more confident than you actually felt, you reached over to gently take his hand.
“It’s alright, I know what you meant.” He softly squeezed your hand, though he was looking down into the bouquet that you’d given him, a light flush on his cheeks.
“You know.. I was wondering if you were ever going to say anything.” He said after a moment of quiet.
“Yeah?”
“You were always so nice, but I didn’t want to assume you were.. flirting. Didn’t want to make a fool of myself.” He admitted with a soft, self-deprecating laugh. Your free hand reached before you’d processed that you’d moved. You caught his chin in your fingers, and gently guided him to turn so he could see your face.
“I’ve been sweet on you since the first time I made you blush.” And that in turn made warmth bloom deeper on his face, creeping up his cheekbones to his ears.
“Well.. I see.” He mumbled, and though his eyes flicked down to avoid your gaze, he didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into your touch, his legs shifting just enough that your knees pressed together, able to feel his warmth more than the cool air of the evening.
“Let me walk you home?”
It wasn’t far from the park to his apartment, and when his key slipped into the lock, he paused. Not turning it, not yet.
“I hope.. we can do this again?” He asked, taking the bouquet back from your hand, as you’d held it while he found his keys and unlocked his front door.
“Definitely.”
For a long moment, the two of you just looked at each other. Hands clammy, cheeks warm, hearts racing. You couldn’t be sure how long the two of you stood there in front of his unlocked but still closed door, just taking in the details of each other’s faces, deciding what you felt brave enough to do.
You took his hand, and he twisted them to be able to lace your fingers together.
“One more drink?” He asked, voice more breath than sound, but you nodded. How could you resist?
You had juice rather than alcohol, something light and simple, a real excuse just to keep the evening going. Talking, laughing, inching closer and closer on the sofa until he was pressed to your side. It felt natural, like you’d done this a hundred times rather than the first time just tonight.
You stayed the night, though unintentionally. When the sun cut in through the still partially open curtains, you looked down to find that the two of you had fallen asleep on his sofa, still dressed in the clothes you’d worn on your date. Sure, you needed to get back to your apartment to freshen up and get ready for work.. but you could allow yourself this for just a little longer. His warmth against your skin, his arms around your waist, his head on your chest.
You had a feeling there’d be a lot more dates in future.