#blame tee for another tokrev fic

[peachysamu]

Combustion Reaction

Summary: Hanma knows exactly how to push people’s buttons and make them combust, but somehow, your reaction did not produce the same result

Word count: 1.4k

Genre: fluff; college! au; barista! Hanma Shuji; enemies to lovers? (to lab partners?); one suggestive joke on Hanma’s part; Hanma being a menace

A/n: dedicated to Tee @shujisbaby ; I hope I did your man justice but low key, I’m kind of in love with writing this version of him.

Hanma’s favorite pastime is being a menace. Call him a little shit, and while most people would be offended, he’d give you a snarky little grin and say, “Thanks ♡.” He likes to push the edge in everything he does. How many times can he show up late to his literature class with a half-empty iced coffee in one hand and a sandwich in the other until his professor explodes? Last lecture, he stuck his tongue out with a sardonic smile as he passed through the door and he swore his teacher turned red.

And when he says everything he does, he truly means everything. How shitty of a barista can he be until he gets fired? How many times can he laugh at a customer’s face and walk away when they tell him he made their drink wrong?

His psychology class tells him it stems from his upbringing and the lack of attention he received as a child. Maybe they’re right since his parents were never home and there’s only so many games he can play until he’s bored, but that’s besides the point.

Because now that Hanma’s older, he knows how to have fun and you, you’re his favorite game to play.

“Hey sweetheart,” Hanma drawls, leaning over the register and smirking when you roll your eyes.

You’re such a perfectionist. He’s watched the way you take notes in chemistry class, with your pens lined up and your hand cramping as you try and write every single word the professor says. You’re always diligently studying and focused solely on academics and Hanma wonders exactly what it’ll take for you to unravel. How far does he have to push for you to lose your composure, to just, break? What a sight that would be, huh? He loves breaking things just for the hell of it, and well, he wants to break you too just for the hell of it.

Psych class also tells him that this is a reflection of himself and how he refuses to be the only broken thing in this world, but fuck that. What if he wants to do things for shits and giggles? There doesn’t have to be an explanation for everything.

“Can I have a caramel ribbon crunch frappuccino?” Amusement is all Hanma feels when you choose to ignore his salutations. Oh no, sweetie. If you want him to stop chasing you, ignoring him is not the way to go. It only forces him to try even harder.

“How about I give you my number instead?”

There’s a twitch in your nose. You must think he’s so annoying and he basks in that glory.

“No.” Is all you say.

“You sure?” He asks, “I can keep you up better than that frappuccino can.”

Before you even get a chance to retort, Hanma’s scolded by his manager and you’re able to get your desired drink on the house after a series of apologies. Hanma’s a menace to society, a combustion reaction ready to set the world ablaze. Logic tells you that getting involved with him will only have you burned, but unfortunately, you lack the same rationality in your heart. Every time time you see his stupid face, your heart flutters like a moth attracted to the flame of his cocky grins.

It’s the reason why, even though you know he’s bad news, you still show up every day at your campus coffee shop to order your frappuccino; but the world knows you’re acting a fool and decides to hand you a lesson when you get paired up with him for a lab report. You stall until the end of lecture but by the time that you turn around and ask to begrudgingly exchange contact numbers, Hanma’s already zipped out the door. At one point he was inescapable, and now it seems that he’s the one avoiding you. You can’t even catch him at work because the moment he sees you walking through the entrance, he’s running off to the back regardless of whatever he’s doing. What makes you even more angry is that you know he’s doing this on purpose.

You could do this assignment on your own, but there’s no way you could keep up with the rest of your school work if you do. You’ve got essays, practicals, exams, and this lab report is at least ten hours of work so as much as you don’t want to work with him, he’s the loose pin to your grenade. If he doesn’t help you out, there’s a guarantee that you will be need to set an alarm for a daily scheduled breakdown in the library from all the stress toppling over.

You’re angry and restless, leg bouncing and pen twirling because you could have never foreseen this. You’re waiting on Hanma to get off his shift and just the thought brings bile to your throat and butterflies in your stomach. He’s so bad for you that you want him just as desperately.

Hanma cannot contain his grin when he spots you at a table near the exit after clocking out.

“Waiting for me, sweetheart?” He saunters over with his long legs with minimal steps before taking a seat opposite of you. “I won’t deny it, but I am quite surprised.”

“I don’t want to play your games,” You get straight to the point. He quirks an interested eyebrow at you - an interested and handsome eyebrow. “Give me your number so we can figure out how to work on this lab report.”

“Oh ho, you already had your chance.” Hanma places an elbow on the table and perches his chin on his palm. He leans forward so he can get a closer look at every twitch and every minute reaction you give, obsessed with it. “My number’s not for sale anymore.”

You glare. He glares back.

“Hanma.”

“That’s my name ♡.”

His cheeks start to hurt at how wide he’s grinning but you look so adorable with your frowny face that you think is intimidating. It’s not but it’s a good effort.

“This is 35% of our grade.” You try and reason with him.

“Do I look like someone who cares about my grades?”

Hanma’s at the edge of his seat. What are you going to do? Are you going to lash out? Kick and scream? He licks his lips in anticipation, but you surprise him once more at the wet sound of your voice.

“Please,” you whisper, eyes trained on the table between the two of you. “I can’t fail this class.”

Hanma feels guilt for the first time in a long time at the sight of you so fragile and small. He feels even worse knowing that he’s the source of your pain. The way that you look like you’re on the verge of tears, fingers wobbling like a newborn deer on ice, he can’t help but concede. He thought he’d get the usual thrill of seeing you break, but only guilt douses him in gasoline and your tears are the matchstick to this blaze. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this way, but Hanma decides he fucking hates it. He’d rather never make you cry ever again if his heart has to tear itself out of his chest.

“Fine,” he says, remorse lacing his breath but incapable of apologizing. He hopes you realize the gravity of that one word, what him relenting actually means. “Let’s work on this report.”

Just like that, you perk up. A sneaky smile on your lips, you wipe the tears that have barely begun to fall and give one quick sniff.

“Great!” You chirp, “We’re going to be doing this my way, by the way. I’m clearly the smarter one here so just do as I say.”

“Were those? Did you?” He’s shocked at the mood swing but all you do is blink those beautiful eyes of yours up at him. Glossy and innocent to the point that it’s malicious, Hanma pieces everything together and he can’t help but flash you a grin. “Oh you’re going to be so hard to handle.” He bares his canines, absolutely excited. “I won’t fall for those crocodile tears again.”

You shrug and match his grin with your own, “We’ll see.”

And you get up without another word, expecting Hanma to follow. Of course he does, because how else will he be entertained?