i maid you a coffee
Jul. 2nd, 2015 08:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hananapeel“I,” Daichi said, “cannot believe I let you talk me into this.”
“Oh?” Suga looked pointedly across the counter and towards the crowded cafe, tables fuller than they had been in months and the sound of orders being frantically filled loud over the whir of coffee machines and blenders. Daichi was sure he wasn’t imagining the smugness in Suga’s voice when he said, “Personally, I think that it’s working out pretty well.”
“Easy for you to say.” And it was: Daichi would be jumping up and down with joy at the sound of clinking cups and their increased revenue if he could manage to pull off a maid outfit with as much aplomb as Suga, whose delicate hands fluffed the dress’s frilly underskirt absentmindedly and whose fair complexion was flushed prettily with either excitement or rouge.
Daichi, on the other hand, felt as comfortable as Asahi did with confrontation or large dogs, which was to say, not at all. He had never felt as hulking and broad as he did now, stuffed into a dress that was much too tight and much too short. The edges of it dug harshly into the sensitive skin under his armpits, and sweat collected damply in the stiff, heavy fabric. He frowned and tried to ignore it; if Hinata and Tanaka could manage running (and nearly tripping) in their new patent leather shoes serving coffee without complaint, then so could their manager survive sweating through his sheer pink thigh highs. And with that, he busied himself with the coffee machine.
“Hey, Sa–” The bells over the front door tinkled as someone entered the shop.
“Oh, hey Kuroo,” Suga called easily, wiping down the counter and seemingly oblivious to the way Daichi’s shoulders tensed up before he willed them to relax. He’d be damned if he ever run and hide from Kuroo, stupid outfit notwithstanding.
“W-What’s going on here?” Kuroo said, walking over to the counter behind which Daichi and Suga worked without any of his normal ease, standing stiffly with hands on either side and lips pressed together, white.
A shrug from Suga, eyes bright and gleeful. “Oh, you know. Just a promotion for the cafe,” he said airily, fluffing his skirt. “A maid cafe sorta thing. It was only for today, but…” A subtle, smug smile meant to put Kuroo on edge. “I mean, we are doing pretty well today..”
Kuroo cleared his throat. “Oh?” he said, glancing around the bustling cafe with apparent disinterest. “Well then, congratulations, I suppose. Though this is really only an average day at Nekoma.”
“What are you doing here then, if it’s so busy for there?” Daichi said. They all knew that when Nekoma Cat Cafe hit a lull in the middle of the afternoon, Kuroo liked to casually waltz in to pester Daichi and investigate how the competition was doing. Maybe it was a little unfair to be ganging up on Kuroo with Suga in the weird little rivalry that their two cafes had, but. Daichi was currently sweating in a maid costume because they were losing customers to Kuroo and his stupid cats, and he wasn’t really feeling courteous.
Kuroo’s eyes slid towards Daichi, and quickly away. “Just a short break,” he said after pursing his lips white and shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “I’m worn out from our very, very, very busy morning.” Abruptly, he straightened even further. “Well. I should get back to work. Bye.”
He marched stiffly out of the door, leaving as suddenly as he came.
Daichi bit his lip and looked over at Suga. “That was weird,” he said. Normally Kuroo snagged himself an empty seat by the counter, bullied Daichi into making him a cappuchino, and settled in to spend at least an hour bothering him about exactly what area of South Africa their beans were from and whether they use castor sugar or fine castor sugar until Daichi hurled a wet rag at him and Kuroo got to lecture him on the importance of customer service.
“Hm, yeah,” Suga said innocently, turning to froth some milk. “Weird.”
–
Kuroo was feeling definitely, definitively, weird. Not so much the weird of when Lucy, his favorite calico, purred and snuggled up against Kenma instead, nor the weird of how Bokuto inexplicably picked up a very cute jogger from the passenger seat of Kuroo’s old car using nothing but “Eye of the Tiger” on the speakers and Bokuto’s inability to hold back tears. It was a weird that manifested itself in crawling heat up his spine, warm curls twisting tight with tension in his stomach, a lingering flush in his cheeks.
All because of…
Because…
Okay, he could admit it, at least to himself; Sawamura Daichi looked way too damn good in a short skirt that barely covered his ass and some tights that covered nothing at all.
Yeah. Right. Okay.
Kuroo curled into a ball on one of the sofas in the cafe and moaned, because, fuck it, it was a slow time between the lunchtime rush and date night, so it wasn’t like anyone was there to see his pitiful state except for Kenma behind the counter, who’d seen worse, and the cats, who couldn’t relay this sensitive information. All because of stupid Sawamura and his stupid maid outfit. Was it on purpose? Did he get a size too small just to screw with Kuroo? Kuroo nodded to himself in the dark cramped space between his head and his knees. Seemed like something Sawamura would do.
Despite what he would like people to think, Kuroo hadn’t even seen anyone naked before, let alone a really hot guy with thighs sent from heaven dressed up like in one of Kuroo’s fantasies. It was overwhelming and embarrassing and honestly, made Kuroo feel way out of his league. He was the one who was supposed to make people feel uncomfortable, poking and prodding for the right reactions just for the hell of it. Not responsible, staid Sawamura, who dad-ed the hell out of his employees and made snowman cookies for everyone, including Kuroo, during Christmas. And yet, here he was, in the middle of his own empty cafe, hiding a semi from Kenma’s too perceptive eyes because of Sawamura fucking Daichi.
He closed his eyes and threw his pride out the kitty-decorated window.
“Say, Kenma…”
“What happened this time,” Kenma sighed from his seat behind the counter, and fuck if that didnt sound like Lucy purring next to him.
“If I were to find… a certain cafe owner… a-attractive…”
A huff from the counter. “Didn’t know that me asking Shouyou out last week would lead to you, of all people, asking me for weird relationship advice.”
“Okay, what is me, of all people, supposed to mean?” A pause. There’s only so much pride Kuroo can throw out before needing a break. “Also, the advice, if you don’t mind.”
Kuroo was suddenly startled out of his fetal position when he felt Kenma sit next to him on the couch. “I just asked him out in the middle of Rainbow Road.”
Uncurling from his ball and sitting on the couch like a functional human being, Kuroo squinted at his best friend suspiciously. “It didn’t happen to be a surprise tactic because Hinata started beating you at Mario Kart, did it?”
He was duly ignored. “I just asked him and he said yes and now we’re happy together, unlike some sadly single cafe owners,” Kenma said with the pissiness of a cat faced with his second-favorite brand of cat food, and Kuroo noted miserably that perhaps, he’d been replaced.
They sat together in silence for a while, Kuroo sliding his head into Kenma’s lap and Kenma patting his head kindly, and damn if it didn’t actually make Kuroo feel marginally better. Maybe there was a reason why Lucy had been gravitating towards Kenma lately. “Just ask Daichi,” he said finally in between pats, “I think it will turn out better than you might think.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Yeah! I’m going to do it!” Kuroo sprang up with newfound conviction. He could do it. He was going to do it.
–
He couldn’t do it.
There he was, standing pathetically in front of a closed door at Karasuno Cafe after hours. Suga, cleaning up the last of the tables, had told him that Sawamura was in the back room, and it was just a door away. Just a door away until he gave up the last vestiges of his pride and gets to slink away in rejection and humiliation. No– no good thinking that, when he was already here and the image of Sawamura in a skirt was burned forever in his mind. He could do this.
He took a deep breath and opened the door to reveal…
Sawaura Daichi struggling to unzip the back of his dress, twisting his broad chest to search for the zipper, the half-open closure gaping open and revealing the majority of his muscled back.
Kuroo. Was about. To puke.
He must have made some sort of strangled noise, because suddenly Sawamura’s eyes snapped up with horror and scrambled back towards the wall. Kuroo felt his face flush in a flare of heat as he caught a glimpse of his nipple behind the slipping dress before Sawamura clutched the bodice tight to his chest. “Kuroo,” he said, panting in panic, and so with none of the bite that he normally had when he said Kuroo’s name, “what are you doing here?”
“U-uh-um….” Half of Kuroo wanted to fling himself out the window and the other, more lascivious half, wanted to see more, more of smooth, muscled skin glistening in sweat, more of Sawamura’s blushes and lips bitten flushed and swollen.
The former side won out as he turned around and said, “I-I gotta go,” turning the door handle with desperate conviction.
Inexplicably, it was locked. Or, rather, explicably, it was locked, because Kuroo knew that a certain deviously scheming, know-it-all barista was on the other side. Probably congratulating himself by eavesdropping on this conversation, or something like that.
Kuroo rapped sharply on the door where he estimated Suga would hold his ear and was rewarded by a quiet yelp. In the space of time that Suga nursed his ringing ear Kuroo blurted out quickly, “Hey Sawamura Ithinkyou'rereallycuteandwouldyouliketogooutwithme,” but apparently not quickly enough, for he heard Suga’s excited squeal muffled through the door.
“O-okay,” Sawamura said, eyes round and wide with surprise, mouth gaping a little and hands slipping from their tight grasp on his dress. “I…I think you’re pretty cute, too, or something.”
“…Thank you.”
“…You’re welcome.”
A pause, pregnant with unspoken implication and awkward expectation.
“Oh, come on, just kiss already!” Suga howled from the other side of the door. “I’m friends with a couple of idiots…”
Kuroo took a small step towards Sawamura, gulping. This is it. “Right.”
“Right,” Sawamura said back, easing off the wall to take a matching step towards Kuroo.
“Right,” they said, finally close enough for Kuroo to take Sawamura’s hand and for Sawamura to curl his other hand shyly around Kuroo’s neck.
They took another step closer to each other until the stiff ruffled top of Sawamura’s half-unzipped dress dug into Kuroo’s stomach. “Right,” he said in the scant space between them just before pressing his lips to Sawamura’s and determinedly ignoring the loud clunk of overeager teeth and Sawamura muttering “ow” before kissing him all the more enthusiastically.
It was with awkward determination and confused insistence that they finally managed to fit their lips together in a way that pleased both of them, Sawamura first timidly nibbling at Kuroo’s lower lip the way he did with his own when he was nervous, and growing in conviction as Kuroo squeaked-slash-moaned loudly enough for Suga to hear, and god, would he ever hear the end of it from that particular barista. And then he forgot all about Suga and Sawamura’s outfit and the fact that his knees would be buckling if not for Sawamura’s lace and muscle-bound arms (okay so maybe he didn’t forget Sawamura’s outfit completely), for Sawamura was now alternating between licking and kissing his ravaged lower lip with dizzying intensity, and Kuroo scrabbled for support by hanging onto Sawamura’s sturdy, bare shoulders.
It was when Kuroo started pressing kisses deep into Sawamura’s neck that his hands starts drifting down strong biceps and bulging forearms, and then making their meandering way back up a corded neck and round, pink cheeks. This time it was Sawamura who clutched tight into Kuroo’s hair, moans coming high and long from lips pouting open, pants brushing hot and moist against Kuroo’s cheek. Kuroo finally managed the courage to sneak down Sawamura’s neck, pressing kisses into his collarbone, trailing across to one of his nipples when:
“I’M LEAVING NOW! HAVE FUN, LOVEBIRDS!” Suga called through the door, and they sprang guiltily apart.
Sawamura licked his swollen lips, and Kuroo felt a corresponding warm tingle across his. “Right,” Sawamura said finally, raising up the fallen bodice of his dress back up to his neck in delayed modesty.
“Right,” Kuroo echoed, and turned towards the door. “I should let you get changed.”
“Would you like to help?” Sawamura blurted, and Kuroo couldn’t deny the call of duty, for he was actually always this nice.
“Oh?” Suga looked pointedly across the counter and towards the crowded cafe, tables fuller than they had been in months and the sound of orders being frantically filled loud over the whir of coffee machines and blenders. Daichi was sure he wasn’t imagining the smugness in Suga’s voice when he said, “Personally, I think that it’s working out pretty well.”
“Easy for you to say.” And it was: Daichi would be jumping up and down with joy at the sound of clinking cups and their increased revenue if he could manage to pull off a maid outfit with as much aplomb as Suga, whose delicate hands fluffed the dress’s frilly underskirt absentmindedly and whose fair complexion was flushed prettily with either excitement or rouge.
Daichi, on the other hand, felt as comfortable as Asahi did with confrontation or large dogs, which was to say, not at all. He had never felt as hulking and broad as he did now, stuffed into a dress that was much too tight and much too short. The edges of it dug harshly into the sensitive skin under his armpits, and sweat collected damply in the stiff, heavy fabric. He frowned and tried to ignore it; if Hinata and Tanaka could manage running (and nearly tripping) in their new patent leather shoes serving coffee without complaint, then so could their manager survive sweating through his sheer pink thigh highs. And with that, he busied himself with the coffee machine.
“Hey, Sa–” The bells over the front door tinkled as someone entered the shop.
“Oh, hey Kuroo,” Suga called easily, wiping down the counter and seemingly oblivious to the way Daichi’s shoulders tensed up before he willed them to relax. He’d be damned if he ever run and hide from Kuroo, stupid outfit notwithstanding.
“W-What’s going on here?” Kuroo said, walking over to the counter behind which Daichi and Suga worked without any of his normal ease, standing stiffly with hands on either side and lips pressed together, white.
A shrug from Suga, eyes bright and gleeful. “Oh, you know. Just a promotion for the cafe,” he said airily, fluffing his skirt. “A maid cafe sorta thing. It was only for today, but…” A subtle, smug smile meant to put Kuroo on edge. “I mean, we are doing pretty well today..”
Kuroo cleared his throat. “Oh?” he said, glancing around the bustling cafe with apparent disinterest. “Well then, congratulations, I suppose. Though this is really only an average day at Nekoma.”
“What are you doing here then, if it’s so busy for there?” Daichi said. They all knew that when Nekoma Cat Cafe hit a lull in the middle of the afternoon, Kuroo liked to casually waltz in to pester Daichi and investigate how the competition was doing. Maybe it was a little unfair to be ganging up on Kuroo with Suga in the weird little rivalry that their two cafes had, but. Daichi was currently sweating in a maid costume because they were losing customers to Kuroo and his stupid cats, and he wasn’t really feeling courteous.
Kuroo’s eyes slid towards Daichi, and quickly away. “Just a short break,” he said after pursing his lips white and shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “I’m worn out from our very, very, very busy morning.” Abruptly, he straightened even further. “Well. I should get back to work. Bye.”
He marched stiffly out of the door, leaving as suddenly as he came.
Daichi bit his lip and looked over at Suga. “That was weird,” he said. Normally Kuroo snagged himself an empty seat by the counter, bullied Daichi into making him a cappuchino, and settled in to spend at least an hour bothering him about exactly what area of South Africa their beans were from and whether they use castor sugar or fine castor sugar until Daichi hurled a wet rag at him and Kuroo got to lecture him on the importance of customer service.
“Hm, yeah,” Suga said innocently, turning to froth some milk. “Weird.”
–
Kuroo was feeling definitely, definitively, weird. Not so much the weird of when Lucy, his favorite calico, purred and snuggled up against Kenma instead, nor the weird of how Bokuto inexplicably picked up a very cute jogger from the passenger seat of Kuroo’s old car using nothing but “Eye of the Tiger” on the speakers and Bokuto’s inability to hold back tears. It was a weird that manifested itself in crawling heat up his spine, warm curls twisting tight with tension in his stomach, a lingering flush in his cheeks.
All because of…
Because…
Okay, he could admit it, at least to himself; Sawamura Daichi looked way too damn good in a short skirt that barely covered his ass and some tights that covered nothing at all.
Yeah. Right. Okay.
Kuroo curled into a ball on one of the sofas in the cafe and moaned, because, fuck it, it was a slow time between the lunchtime rush and date night, so it wasn’t like anyone was there to see his pitiful state except for Kenma behind the counter, who’d seen worse, and the cats, who couldn’t relay this sensitive information. All because of stupid Sawamura and his stupid maid outfit. Was it on purpose? Did he get a size too small just to screw with Kuroo? Kuroo nodded to himself in the dark cramped space between his head and his knees. Seemed like something Sawamura would do.
Despite what he would like people to think, Kuroo hadn’t even seen anyone naked before, let alone a really hot guy with thighs sent from heaven dressed up like in one of Kuroo’s fantasies. It was overwhelming and embarrassing and honestly, made Kuroo feel way out of his league. He was the one who was supposed to make people feel uncomfortable, poking and prodding for the right reactions just for the hell of it. Not responsible, staid Sawamura, who dad-ed the hell out of his employees and made snowman cookies for everyone, including Kuroo, during Christmas. And yet, here he was, in the middle of his own empty cafe, hiding a semi from Kenma’s too perceptive eyes because of Sawamura fucking Daichi.
He closed his eyes and threw his pride out the kitty-decorated window.
“Say, Kenma…”
“What happened this time,” Kenma sighed from his seat behind the counter, and fuck if that didnt sound like Lucy purring next to him.
“If I were to find… a certain cafe owner… a-attractive…”
A huff from the counter. “Didn’t know that me asking Shouyou out last week would lead to you, of all people, asking me for weird relationship advice.”
“Okay, what is me, of all people, supposed to mean?” A pause. There’s only so much pride Kuroo can throw out before needing a break. “Also, the advice, if you don’t mind.”
Kuroo was suddenly startled out of his fetal position when he felt Kenma sit next to him on the couch. “I just asked him out in the middle of Rainbow Road.”
Uncurling from his ball and sitting on the couch like a functional human being, Kuroo squinted at his best friend suspiciously. “It didn’t happen to be a surprise tactic because Hinata started beating you at Mario Kart, did it?”
He was duly ignored. “I just asked him and he said yes and now we’re happy together, unlike some sadly single cafe owners,” Kenma said with the pissiness of a cat faced with his second-favorite brand of cat food, and Kuroo noted miserably that perhaps, he’d been replaced.
They sat together in silence for a while, Kuroo sliding his head into Kenma’s lap and Kenma patting his head kindly, and damn if it didn’t actually make Kuroo feel marginally better. Maybe there was a reason why Lucy had been gravitating towards Kenma lately. “Just ask Daichi,” he said finally in between pats, “I think it will turn out better than you might think.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Yeah! I’m going to do it!” Kuroo sprang up with newfound conviction. He could do it. He was going to do it.
–
He couldn’t do it.
There he was, standing pathetically in front of a closed door at Karasuno Cafe after hours. Suga, cleaning up the last of the tables, had told him that Sawamura was in the back room, and it was just a door away. Just a door away until he gave up the last vestiges of his pride and gets to slink away in rejection and humiliation. No– no good thinking that, when he was already here and the image of Sawamura in a skirt was burned forever in his mind. He could do this.
He took a deep breath and opened the door to reveal…
Sawaura Daichi struggling to unzip the back of his dress, twisting his broad chest to search for the zipper, the half-open closure gaping open and revealing the majority of his muscled back.
Kuroo. Was about. To puke.
He must have made some sort of strangled noise, because suddenly Sawamura’s eyes snapped up with horror and scrambled back towards the wall. Kuroo felt his face flush in a flare of heat as he caught a glimpse of his nipple behind the slipping dress before Sawamura clutched the bodice tight to his chest. “Kuroo,” he said, panting in panic, and so with none of the bite that he normally had when he said Kuroo’s name, “what are you doing here?”
“U-uh-um….” Half of Kuroo wanted to fling himself out the window and the other, more lascivious half, wanted to see more, more of smooth, muscled skin glistening in sweat, more of Sawamura’s blushes and lips bitten flushed and swollen.
The former side won out as he turned around and said, “I-I gotta go,” turning the door handle with desperate conviction.
Inexplicably, it was locked. Or, rather, explicably, it was locked, because Kuroo knew that a certain deviously scheming, know-it-all barista was on the other side. Probably congratulating himself by eavesdropping on this conversation, or something like that.
Kuroo rapped sharply on the door where he estimated Suga would hold his ear and was rewarded by a quiet yelp. In the space of time that Suga nursed his ringing ear Kuroo blurted out quickly, “Hey Sawamura Ithinkyou'rereallycuteandwouldyouliketogooutwithme,” but apparently not quickly enough, for he heard Suga’s excited squeal muffled through the door.
“O-okay,” Sawamura said, eyes round and wide with surprise, mouth gaping a little and hands slipping from their tight grasp on his dress. “I…I think you’re pretty cute, too, or something.”
“…Thank you.”
“…You’re welcome.”
A pause, pregnant with unspoken implication and awkward expectation.
“Oh, come on, just kiss already!” Suga howled from the other side of the door. “I’m friends with a couple of idiots…”
Kuroo took a small step towards Sawamura, gulping. This is it. “Right.”
“Right,” Sawamura said back, easing off the wall to take a matching step towards Kuroo.
“Right,” they said, finally close enough for Kuroo to take Sawamura’s hand and for Sawamura to curl his other hand shyly around Kuroo’s neck.
They took another step closer to each other until the stiff ruffled top of Sawamura’s half-unzipped dress dug into Kuroo’s stomach. “Right,” he said in the scant space between them just before pressing his lips to Sawamura’s and determinedly ignoring the loud clunk of overeager teeth and Sawamura muttering “ow” before kissing him all the more enthusiastically.
It was with awkward determination and confused insistence that they finally managed to fit their lips together in a way that pleased both of them, Sawamura first timidly nibbling at Kuroo’s lower lip the way he did with his own when he was nervous, and growing in conviction as Kuroo squeaked-slash-moaned loudly enough for Suga to hear, and god, would he ever hear the end of it from that particular barista. And then he forgot all about Suga and Sawamura’s outfit and the fact that his knees would be buckling if not for Sawamura’s lace and muscle-bound arms (okay so maybe he didn’t forget Sawamura’s outfit completely), for Sawamura was now alternating between licking and kissing his ravaged lower lip with dizzying intensity, and Kuroo scrabbled for support by hanging onto Sawamura’s sturdy, bare shoulders.
It was when Kuroo started pressing kisses deep into Sawamura’s neck that his hands starts drifting down strong biceps and bulging forearms, and then making their meandering way back up a corded neck and round, pink cheeks. This time it was Sawamura who clutched tight into Kuroo’s hair, moans coming high and long from lips pouting open, pants brushing hot and moist against Kuroo’s cheek. Kuroo finally managed the courage to sneak down Sawamura’s neck, pressing kisses into his collarbone, trailing across to one of his nipples when:
“I’M LEAVING NOW! HAVE FUN, LOVEBIRDS!” Suga called through the door, and they sprang guiltily apart.
Sawamura licked his swollen lips, and Kuroo felt a corresponding warm tingle across his. “Right,” Sawamura said finally, raising up the fallen bodice of his dress back up to his neck in delayed modesty.
“Right,” Kuroo echoed, and turned towards the door. “I should let you get changed.”
“Would you like to help?” Sawamura blurted, and Kuroo couldn’t deny the call of duty, for he was actually always this nice.
