#honestly bless you for requesting asanoya and mutual pining because writing this made my heart happy

[jellyryans]

it’ll be fine, as long as your hand’s in mine

Pairing: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu

No warnings, just good old fashioned coffee shop pining. 1647 words. 

The bakery supply closet became his own personal sanctuary, a place at work where Asahi could retreat when he needed time alone, or when things got to be too much.

Things. Or people. Or just one person.

Happy Haikyuu!! Holidays to @gabberwockywrites as part of the @haikyuuwriters secret santa exchange! Hope you enjoy! Fic below the cut.

The sounds were muted, but Asahi could hear everything. A milk pitcher hit the floor with a sharp metallic crack. Steady footsteps trod by, up the stairs, past the door, behind the espresso bar, into the cafe. The main door opened and the bell chimed, followed by an unfamiliar chortle.

He could hear everything, but nothing couldn’t touch him where he sat, nestled uncomfortably on a person-sized bag of flour in the dark, on the other side of the heavy closet door.

Asahi often wondered why it seemed like he was the only person to hide in the bakery supply closet. It was slightly obscured by all the doors, nooks, and crannies of the old building, but it wasn’t hidden. It was possible that everyone else simply knew better. He could hear Daichi scolding him for contaminating the dry ingredients, that he should get off his butt and go back to work already., but no one had found him yet, and no one had ever said anything.

The bakery supply closet became his own personal sanctuary, a place at work where he could retreat when he needed time alone, or when things got to be too much.

Things. Or people. Or just one person.

Asahi started to groan, then slapped his hand over his mouth before the noise could fully form in his throat. He sat completely still, not even daring to breath, until at least a minute had passed without someone barging into the room with pointed fingers. He rolled his neck on his shoulders in a sad attempt to release the tension that racked his body.

He might’ve been hidden from the forces outside the room, but he was never safe from the terrifying weight of his thoughts.

Asahi recalled the first time he met Nishinoya Yuu. He had burst into the café for his first shift, vibrating with energy at four in the morning, and Asahi didn’t manage an actual greeting until hours later, halfway through their first shift together.

Nishinoya was one of the best baristas Asahi had ever seen. He was there when you needed him, always ready to talk to customers, had a smile that somehow transformed the air around him, was willing to switch shifts to make everyone’s lives easier, and would make any drink on the menu without complaint.

The issue was that he was so much more than just an amazing co-worker. He was a good mentor to younger baristas, a good friend, a good person.

Even though it had taken months for Asahi to translate the butterflies in his stomach, deep down he knew had been a goner since the moment Nishinoya bounced into the café like there was nowhere else he would have rather been and smiled at Asahi like he was the only guy in the world.

Asahi screwed up his face, guilt coursing through his veins. The issue wasn’t really Nishinoya, though. It was him.

He thought of the day when he wore a new headband to work, how Nishinoya had to stand on toes to touch it, how he called it a “string” and said it was the “coolest thing he’d ever seen!” Asahi had to hide for twenty minutes before his face returned to its normal hue.

Then there was the time that Nishinoya burnt himself on the steam wand and had requested that “only Asahi-san” tend to wound. Nishinoya sat on the sink of their cramped employee washroom and Asahi stood between his legs as he touched Nishinoya’s skin. Asahi shivered at the memory. Nishinoya’s skin was so soft and he was so terrified that Nishinoya would be able to feel how fast his heart beat in his fingertips as he smoothed down the bandage.

Asahi had barely made it to the supply closet before his knees gave out, and he stayed hidden for a whole half hour, practicing the breathing exercises that his mother had showed him.

That hadn’t been the first time they touched, and it wasn’t the last.

Nishinoya gave high fives like they were an extension of his being. His hands shot up when they finished a particularly long line of drinks at the bar, or when Asahi finally managed to get the perfect laurel on top of a latte, or when Asahi made it to work in a giant snowstorm that had frozen public transportation.

Asahi’s throat went dry and he looked down at his palms. He willed himself to think of anything else, anything other than time that Nishinoya raised his hands for a high five and didn’t let go.

He had twined their fingers together, palms lowered but still in the air. Nishinoya had looked up at Asahi and there had been something soft in his eyes, something that made Asahi rip his hands away. He had turned before he could see Nishinoya’s reaction and sprinted to the closet, where he had hid his face in his hands and lost track of time.

It wasn’t just the two of them anymore, either.

The week before, right in the middle of their busy afternoon shift, out of the borderlands between absolutely nowhere and Asahi’s worst nightmare, Suga had asked him when the hell he was going to man up and ask Nishinoya out.

Daichi had appeared next to Suga and nodded his approval. Hinata had come out of the woodwork and screeched. Kageyama’s head had almost snapped on his neck when he glared at Asahi.

Even the customers in line agreed with Suga. Iwaizumi, a regular, told him that “it was about damn time already.”

Asahi didn’t sleep for days, worried that Nishinoya had somehow overheard despite not having been there, or that someone would tell him when Asahi wasn’t around.

But those sleepless nights paled in comparison to that morning.

Nishinoya was scheduled later than usual and was bundled almost appropriately when he came into the café for his shift. He waved to Asahi with a swish of his puffy sleeves and his greeting was muffled by the scarf wrapped around his neck. Asahi’s heart skipped a beat, as it usually did, and he waved back.

Just as his heart settled, Nishinoya came out of the locker room, and Asahi’s mouth fell open.

His hair was tall and wild, finally free from the confines of his beanie, and the skin over his cheekbones was pink from the howling December wind. His apron was haphazardly tied but it was snug around his slender waist.

Asahi was well aware of how gorgeous Nishinoya was, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the shirt he was wearing.

Nishinoya had on the standard uniform polo, but it wasn’t the one he usually wore. This one must’ve been at least three sizes too small, because Asahi saw every line of defined muscle, the slight bump of his pecs, and the sharp outline of his collar bone.

And if that hadn’t been enough to bring Asahi to his knees, the sleeves were short and tight on his arms, exposing a generous swath of skin and muscle that tensed and relaxed as he moved.

Asahi had run off without saying a word.

His feelings for Nishinoya were obvious to everyone before, and if they weren’t obvious to Nishinoya then, they certainly were now. Asahi was caught short of breath, even in the solitary dark of his sacred spot, and hiding didn’t seem like enough anymore. How could he possibly face Nishinoya again?

The solution was as obvious as it was painful. He had to quit.

But no sooner had the thought materialized, than the door flew open and exposed Asahi. He brought his arms up in defense and tried to hide himself as much as possible while blocking the light.

Asahi’s heart pounded against his ribcage, and braced himself, but nothing happened. He lowered his arms and squinted at the figure in the doorway.

“Asahi-san!”

Asahi jumped at his name, away from the person in front of him. “Nishinoya? How did you, me? Here?”

He grimaced at his own pathetic attempt to initiate conversation, but Nishinoya wasn’t fazed. 

“The supply closet’s a good place to be alone, I get it! Plus, I looked everywhere else.” He laughed. “You ran away so fast that I thought you might’ve teleported away or something!”

Asahi forced a laugh in response, but it sounded more like the sad wheezing of an broken squeaky toy, and he averted his eyes. “No, um, sorry. No teleporting, just… yeah.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, but his hand shook so badly that he brought it back down and sat on it. “Is it busy? Do you need me?”

“I do, but not because it’s busy.”

“Okay?” 

Dread settled in Asahi’s stomach and he ran through the possibilities. Someone was hurt. They were getting held up. Something had broken. A customer had slipped. Nishinoya didn’t seem bothered, leaning in the door frame with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I just missed you.”

Asahi blinked in surprise. “You... What?”

Nishinoya smiled so wide that Asahi thought it might escape his face and swallow the café. “I missed you, Asahi-san.”

He reached out, but Asahi just eyed Nishinoya’s hand, wary that he was imagining it all and desperately afraid that he was. Nishinoya took another step forward and grabbed Asahi’s hand, pulling him to his feet, confirming that everything was real.

“And I might’ve told Daichi-san that I wouldn’t work another second if you weren’t there.”

Asahi yelped, squeezing Nishinoya’s hand on instinct. “Nishinoya, you didn’t!”

Nishinoya squeezed back, looking over his shoulder as he lead Asahi out of the bakery supply closet. “I did, so let’s go back together, okay?”

He looked down at their hands. It didn’t feel like Nishinoya had any intention of letting go, and Asahi was tempted to pinch himself as Nishinoya lead him back to the espresso bar.

He was still in that tiny shirt, and it was still very distracting, but Asahi was more entranced by the way their hands fit together.

“Okay,” Asahi whispered. “Together.”   

Maybe he wouldn’t have to quit after all.