Chapter Text
Yamaguchi Tadashi is entirely too responsible. He always has been.
Which is why his grandfather entrusted him to take over his pet store when he retired, even though Tadashi had just recently turned twenty. He was delighted; he’d explored the colorful aisles of Wags and Whiskers since before he could ride a bike. His parents were hesitant at first—as was he, if he’s being honest—but nostalgia won them all over in the end. His grandpa was as proud as a peach (these were his exact words, though Tadashi’s unsure of the existence of this idiom).
“Can I at least change the name?” Tadashi had asked.
“Huh? Of course not! It’s been Wags and Whiskers for thirteen years now, son.”
“But we don’t even sell dogs.”
“Tadashi, you can’t change a leopard’s spots.”
“I’m not sure that really applies here, Grandpa.”
It’s been a year since then, and managing the store is—to keep up with his grandfather’s affinity for idioms—no piece of cake.
The kittens shit a lot. The aquaria have to be changed far too often. The birds are noisy even before Tadashi’s had his first coffee of the day. The store is short-staffed and right around the corner from the local high school, so kids always stop in to ogle the animals and never buy anything. The single bulb that lights the back room has been flickering for close to two months now and Tadashi can’t reach to change it. Not even Bokuto can, though he’s close. The shop’s half-ladder has mysteriously disappeared. Tadashi suspects Hinata. He makes copious mental notes to check their apartment for it but always forgets.
“I didn’t touch it,” Bokuto insists when Tadashi mentions it to him. “Hinata probably took it so he could reach to kiss Kageyama.”
“Oh my god,” laughs Tadashi as he ticks the sweep box on the cleaning chart.
“That was a good one, right?!”
“Totally.”
“I’m hilarious.”
“What’re you guys talking about?” Hinata calls from the cat supply aisle.
“Nothing!” they both call back.
Despite all this, Tadashi loves it—no, he adores it. He adores working here. He loves animals. There really isn’t anything he’d rather do, even if his class schedule this semester makes it hard to constantly be on top of his mediocre staff. He loves them, he really, really does, but he’s putting the HELP WANTED sign in the window first thing Monday.
Again, loves them, but they run him ragged. He could never fire them. But he could use one more person to take at least ten hours a week on the schedule. Perhaps it could be someone who doesn’t sing show tunes to the cockatiels every night before lockup (Bokuto, who has absolutely no melody whatsoever), or someone who won’t shout greetings to each individual fish every morning before the doors open (Hinata has names for every single one of them, and complicated ones at that).
What irritates Tadashi even more than these routines is the fact that he finds them so goddamn endearing.
* * * * *
An hour before Tadashi has to leave for class, Kageyama sets Zelda loose in the shop.
Little kids are screaming. Bokuto is busting a gut. Tadashi has dropped his coffee and Hinata is on his hands and knees scrubbing at the tiled floor like there’s not a more pressing matter at hand. The customers warily eye Tadashi’s manager button.
“She won’t hurt you! She’s so small! And very docile!” Tadashi tells them, but they’re having none of it.
A group of small children cling to their mother’s skirt and glare at him like, how dare you do this to us. This was supposed to be our nice day out and you are a terrible, terrible human with stupid freckles and very messy hair! Run a brush through that! Get your shit together! You’re not fit to wear that manager button!
So he sprints from the shop out onto the sidewalk. Wags and Whiskers is nestled on a strip right between a music shop and a place that holds modeling classes (the latter gives Tadashi a fair amount of parking lot eye candy to ogle when business is slow).
He swings open the heavy door to the music shop—Offbeat, it’s called—and whips his head around. His ears immediately pick up the smooth jazz that filters through the expansive room. The guy behind the counter looks up from his magazine and for a second, Tadashi wonders if he’s accidentally walked into the modeling place.
The guy blinks at him. Tadashi blinks back.
“This is the music shop?” he pants.
The guy takes a long look at the many instruments that surround Tadashi and squints like he absolutely wants to say something snarky and it physically pains him to resist.
“Yes,” he says finally.
“Is that jazz? Where’s that coming from?”
Tadashi sprints up to the counter and holy cow, this guy’s even prettier up close. But Tadashi’s on a mission; he doesn’t have the time to be distracted by golden eyes and white blond hair, damn it. It takes a lot of effort to look away (Tadashi really likes blond hair, okay?) but he identifies the small wireless stereo as the source of the soft music. He ducks down to press his ear to it. He nods his head in approval.
“Hey, I need this! Can I borrow this for a sec?”
“A sec?” the guy repeats.
“My idiot roommate’s idiot friend set Zelda loose in my shop,” Tadashi blurts. He adds as an afterthought, “I work next door.”
“Zelda?” the guy inquires, turning the page of his magazine.
“Ah, right—our chameleon. She falls asleep with soft music. This guy who works for me named her that because she’s naturally green and I told him ‘Bokuto, Zelda doesn’t even wear any green’—in most incarnations, anyway—but the name stuck and so that’s what we call her and I really can’t get into this right now because she’s loose in my shop and it’s freaking out the children and Hinata won’t stop cleaning up my coffee and I’m just gonna borrow this, okay?”
Tadashi doesn’t have the time to stick around and be embarrassed about his word vomit so he plucks the small stereo from the counter and rushes next door, the bell on the music shop’s door jingling merrily as he exits. The guy behind the counter doesn’t even attempt to stop him.
He feels like a white knight as he bursts into his shop with the stereo in hand. It might as well be Excalibur. Kageyama points him to the chameleon and Tadashi sets his weapon at the end of the pet food aisle where she resides.
The children watch on as her slow crawl ceases. She hasn’t even had the time to change her colors from viridescent to the white or black of the checkered tile underneath her. Her beady eyes close within half a minute. Hinata peeks around Tadashi’s side and Bokuto watches closely over his shoulder. The whole ordeal is quite anticlimactic.
He sighs with relief seconds later when Bokuto places the sleeping reptile back in her cage.
“And the crowd goes wild!” Bokuto announces.
He actually gets a few claps from amused parents but for the most part, people go back to their shopping. The smooth jazz has customers nodding their heads. Tadashi puts his hands on his hips and storms to the rabbit cages. Kageyama looks up from the pair of them—the shop only has two—when Tadashi clears his throat.
“Sorry,” Kageyama claims with a frown, “there was a spider.”
“There was a spider,” Tadashi deadpans.
“Yeah.”
“So you set a lizard loose in my shop.”
Kageyama cringes. “In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea.”
“That’s not even a good idea in foresight!”
“My bad. I won’t do it again.”
“No shit, Kageyama!”
“I’ll buy your coffee for the next couple days. Okay?”
“You’re fired,” sighs Tadashi as he walks back to the front of the shop.
“I don’t even work here!”
“Okay, so I’ll hire you and then I’ll fire you,” he calls.
“I said I was sorry!”
“I like my coffee black.”
“Noted,” Kageyama mutters.
Tadashi pulls his name tag from his shirt. He places it inside the drawer of the register when Bokuto rings someone up for a squeaky dog toy shaped like a fire hydrant. Tadashi grabs his heavy schoolbag from under the counter. With a sigh, he pulls it over his shoulder.
“Why so bummed?” asks Bokuto. “That was so fun!”
“Okay,” Tadashi admits after a moment, “that was kind of awesome.”
“Did you see me, Yamaguchi, did you see me? I saved the store!”
“You sure did, pal.”
“Feels good to be a hero. You get most of the credit, though.”
Tadashi bats his eyelashes in mock flattery.
“What can I say, I’m a lifesaver,” he drones.
“I’ll say! Hey, have fun in class.”
“Thanks. I’ll be back later to lock up,” Tadashi says.
“It’s fine. Me and Hinata will take care of it.”
He cocks his head. “You sure?”
“Totally! We got this. And we’ll make Kageyama help.” Bokuto beams. “See ya later, boss.”
Tadashi beams back. Bokuto’s enthusiasm is six kinds of contagious.
* * * * *
When Tadashi gets to Wags and Whiskers the next morning, Hinata’s midway through a yawn, crouched over the rabbit enclosure. He sprinkles food into their bowl and leaps three feet into the air—no, literally—when Tadashi’s sneakers squeak on the floor behind him.
“Sorry, Hinata. How are they?”
“They’re good, I think. Meatballs is jealous because Zelda got to roam the store yesterday and he didn’t. Aren’t you, buddy?” Hinata coos at the black rabbit. “That reminds me, that’s your coffee on the front counter. Kageyama made me bring it to you.”
“Nice,” Tadashi rejoices and goes to retrieve it. He goes on when he returns, “Why’d you leave so early this morning? Just to come here?”
“Had to race Kageyama to his class,” Hinata answers through another yawn.
“You went all the way to campus just to race him?”
“You say that like it’s weird.”
Tadashi takes a sip of his hot coffee. He winces; it’s so sweet.
“I told him black,” Tadashi says to himself.
“Huh?”
“It’s nothing. I’m gonna feed the fish.”
“Tell them I say hi!”
He crosses the tiny store, footsteps loud in the slow morning atmosphere. The heat of the coffee cup goes right through the paper cup to Tadashi’s palm. He grins to himself as he takes the cylindrical fish food container from a hidden cupboard by the aquaria.
No class today! he rejoices internally. No class today, no class today, no class today! None for you either, little fishies. I wonder what Hinata’s named you. But I probably wouldn’t remember if he told me.
When he almost dumps his hot coffee in the minnow tank instead of the fish flakes he holds in his other hand, Tadashi decides it’s probably best to set his drink back up front.
“What do you think caffeine would do to minnows?” he voices.
“They’d probably zip around their tank and make symbols and faces like that group of fish in Finding Nemo. Holy shit, can you imagine? Probably shouldn’t actually give them any, though.”
He must have been really zoned out not to have heard Bokuto come in. He’s counting the money in the drawer by hand.
Tadashi is endlessly fascinated by the fact that Bokuto is some kind of math superstar and doesn’t even use the money counter Tadashi had shelled out for a few months back (though Tadashi himself does, so it wasn’t a complete waste. And Hinata isn’t even allowed at the register).
Bokuto slaps the stack on the counter and turns to Tadashi. His styled hair is especially pointy today—he must be in good spirits. It tends to droop when his mood goes sour. Or Tadashi just imagines it because he feels that is something that should happen, which is also totally plausible.
“Also,” Bokuto says, “when did we get music playing in here?”
Tadashi listens, staring at the index finger Bokuto points upward.
“Oh, fuck,” Tadashi swears, “I forgot to take back the stereo yesterday!”
“The one we needed for Zelda? Man, that thing is still going?”
“Apparently,” Tadashi answers, uncovering it from the shelf behind the counter. He’d set his bag in front of it this morning and hadn’t even noticed. He picks it up and turns it over in his hands.
“Gotta hand it to Kuroo, he sells some quality shit.”
“I’d say so.”
“Does it play anything else? This isn’t really my style.”
“Oh my god, I have to take it back. How’d that guy not come after me?” Tadashi marvels.
“What guy?”
“There’s this guy—the guy that was there when I took it, I mean.”
“You just took it? Hilarious!” Bokuto crows. “Here, give it to me. I’ll take it back over.”
Tadashi considers this. But he should probably go himself, to apologize and whatnot. Perhaps to explain the situation a little more clearly. Yes, those are his reasons. No ulterior motives here! No, sir!
“Er, ah—it’s fine. I’ll do it later.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, yeah. I bet they’re not even open yet.”
“Suit yourself,” Bokuto says, moving to recount the contents of the till.
* * * * *
It’s nearly one by the time Tadashi actually makes it over to the music shop. The stereo is impossibly light in his hand as he skips inside. The sunshine always put him in a good mood. He’s even more pleased when he sees the blond guy from yesterday behind the counter, having not even considered the possibility that someone else might be working instead.
There’s a girl at the register so Tadashi takes his time making his way there. The grand piano in the far corner reminds him of his grandpa and the jaunty tunes he plays at family parties (tickling the ivories, he calls it). Tadashi wonders if he’d be able to bang out any of the ditties he taught him when he was little. The bell on the shop’s door jingles. Tadashi steps up to the counter.
The guy’s standing this time, stool abandoned somewhere behind him, and wow is he tall. Tadashi’s tall too, but this guy is tall-tall. Tadashi wonders if he’s taller than Bokuto. He really can’t tell from his place across the counter.
“Hi,” Tadashi says like he’s a toddler and it’s the only word he knows.
“Hi,” the guy says back. There’s a pause.
“Oh! Uh, I have this for you.”
Tadashi sets the stereo between them. Smooth jazz emits incessantly from its tiny speakers.
“Oh. Thanks.”
“Do you always let people just run out of here with merchandise?” he jests.
The guy shrugs. “I figured you’d be back.”
Tadashi feels himself going pink. The guy stares at him through his spectacles, eyebrow inching up his forehead.
“I mean, you don’t exactly look like a delinquent.”
“Yeah, I left my leather jacket at home,” he says and then immediately wants to strangle himself. He feels not as bad when the guy’s eyes glint with amusement (or is it bemusement? Tadashi can’t tell).
“Besides, you said you worked next door. So I figured I could always find you there.”
Tadashi beams. “Six days a week.”
He feels silly, being so animated toward this stoic music store employee. But he can’t exactly switch it off. There’s something about the guy’s phlegmatic demeanor that makes Tadashi want to be even livelier. He stares up at him but the blond says nothing more.
“Well,” Tadashi starts, only semi-deflated, “thanks for not calling the police on me, I guess.”
“Sure,” he says with a nod.
Tadashi taps the top of the stereo with his pointer finger and spins on his heel. He heads for the door thinking, Tadashi, go back! Go back and ask him what his favorite color is! No, that’s stupid, he realizes as the guy is dressed completely monochromatic. It makes Tadashi’s own lime green shirt seem gaudy. Go ask him if he likes music! But he’s just going to say yes—he works in a music store for Christ’s sake—and then you won’t know where to go from there! But it’s fine! Just say something! Anything, dunderhead!
His fingers grip the cool steel handle of the door and pull. The bell chimes.
“Did it work?”
Tadashi turns around. “Huh?”
It’s the guy’s turn to poke at the stereo.
“Did it work?” he asks. “On the chameleon?”
Tadashi beams and lets the door fall closed once again. He ambles back to the counter as he speaks.
“Yeah, it totally did. She fell asleep halfway down the pet food aisle. Though she shouldn’t have been there in the first place, of course.”
The guy taps his fingers on the counter. “Your idiot roommate’s idiot friend?”
“He let her out because he wanted her to eat a spider he saw.”
“That’s an interesting approach.”
“Yeah,” Tadashi sighs, “yeah it is.”
The guy gives an almost smile that feels like a victory to Tadashi. For the first time, he notices the name tag pinned by the zipper of his white zip-up. It’s impossibly clean; Tadashi would dirty it if he’d wear it for even a hot minute. Tsukishima Kei, the name tag reads. Tadashi grins at the blue lettering. It’s currently the only dab of color on the guy’s—Tsukishima’s—person. Tadashi’s first thought is, I want to splash some paint on you! Turn you into a better work of art than you already are, hey!
“Is it just the one reptile that's over there?”
“Yep. It’s not really a huge store,” Tadashi tells him.
“What kind of chameleon is it?”
An odd question, especially since it sounds genuinely curious instead of conversational. The answer falls hastily from Tadashi’s mouth, wanting to keep his electric attention.
“She’s a Fischer’s chameleon.”
“Oh. Cool. They’re pretty rare.”
“Yeah, they are.” Tadashi’s damn impressed. He wonders, “How’d, uh—how’d you know that?”
Tsukishima shrugs. His plastic name tag clinks against the zipper of his hoodie.
“I think we’re the only store in the area that’s got one, actually,” Tadashi adds proudly.
“Neat. I wouldn’t mind g—”
There’s commotion in an unseen room like a stack of boxes has been knocked over. Tadashi winces and starts to move to the sound before remembering he isn’t in his own store. The constant feeling of potential-doom-due-to-hyperactive-employees follows him everywhere, apparently.
“Is that Tadashi?” yells a distant voice.
“I, uh—I don’t know,” Tsukishima calls and follows up with an affirmative when Tadashi nods.
Kuroo bursts from the back room and holds his cell phone in the air above his head.
“What is this, the first time you’ve actually been in here? Besides yesterday when you stole my speaker and didn’t even tell me you were here,” he reprimands.
Tadashi taps his fingertips together. “I was kind of in a hurry, Kuroo.”
“It’s cool. I heard about the whole lizard thing.”
“Chameleon,” Tsukishima corrects.
Kuroo stares at him. “Chameleons are lizards, Tsukishima.”
“You’re not technically wrong.”
“Anyways,” Kuroo redirects, “Bokuto just texted me saying he needs you over there. He says it’s an ‘energy’, but I’m like, seventy-two percent sure he meant ‘emergency’.”
“Seriously? But I’ve only been gone for five minutes!”
“Yeah. Bokuto’s great, huh?” Kuroo fawns.
Tadashi groans and rushes back to the pet store. On his way out the door, he gives Tsukishima a wave and beams when he actually gets a nod back. Nice, he thinks as he reenters Wags and Whiskers, we totally had a conversation! And what a cute name! Be careful not to get your white zip-up dirty for the rest of the day—not that I think you will!
It takes Tadashi a minute to actually find Bokuto as he’s hiding behind the fern at the end of the cat supply aisle. Tadashi puts his hands on his hips but Bokuto’s looking the other way. He follows his gaze to the aquaria. Tadashi spooks when Bokuto claps a meaty hand on his shoulder. His freaky yellow eyes are even freakier when opened all wide and crazy like that; Tadashi can see the white all the way around his irises.
“The fish guy,” he whispers.
“Aw man,” Tadashi whines, “that’s why you needed me?”
“Yamaguchi, he’s back! I don’t know what to do!”
“Maybe go ask him if he wants a fish?” he answers, exasperated.
“He doesn’t though, man. He never wants one. He just watches them.”
“Kinda like you watch him?”
“Exactly,” Bokuto replies distractedly, kneeling behind the fern once again.
“You’re loony.”
“Maybe so, maybe so,” he mumbles.
“Just go ask him if he needs any help,” Tadashi insists around a laugh. The fern doesn’t cover Bokuto at all, and he looks hilarious believing that it does. The clay pot it resides in wouldn’t even hide his head, especially with his hair sticking out the way it does.
“Incredible,” notes Tadashi.
Bokuto looks up at him. “Hm? What is?”
“Nothing. I’ll go cover the register. You just stay there and continue being a big ol’ creep.”
“Hey!” Bokuto protests. “It’s not my fault I know next to nothing about fish!”
“Sure, Bo. Whatever gets you through the day.”
* * * * *
“Why doesn’t he put the fish bowl in the front of the shop? Fish are pretty. It’d look neat,” Tadashi says to Bokuto after Kuroo leaves the pet store, small bag of fake purple rocks in hand.
“No idea. He wants them back in the office so he can have them all to himself.”
Tadashi leans onto the counter. “Weird.”
“I did make it sound pretty weird, didn’t I?” Bokuto muses, “It’s whatever. If they were by the register, Tsukishima’d give ‘em one of those cold, dead stares and they’d go belly-up in a second.”
Tadashi puffs out a laugh. Over near the kittens, Hinata talks animatedly with a couple of high school students still in their uniforms. Buy them! Tadashi begs. Buy them so we can sell them all and never stock those little furballs ever again! All they do is break my heart!
The three of them wander over to the rabbits and Tadashi sighs. He turns to Bokuto and absently straightens his bangs with his fingers. Subtly, he clears his throat.
Tadashi attempts to sound casual when he asks, “Has he been working there long?”
“Oh god, years,” Bokuto gushes. “I thought you knew that?”
Tadashi rolls his eyes. “Not Kuroo.”
“Oh. Right! ‘Cause I was gonna say—”
“I meant Tsukishima,” he interrupts. “Has he worked there long?”
Bokuto bites at the hangnail he’s formed on his thumb. He has a bad habit of picking at his nails when he’s in need of something to do, which is basically all the time. His day-to-day work checklists are always twice as long as Hinata’s and nearly rival Tadashi’s own. Bokuto looks up to the ceiling in thought. A parakeet squawks shrilly in the few seconds of silence.
“Nah. Maybe a little over a month now, I think,” he answers around his fingertip.
Tadashi acknowledges this with a thoughtful hum.
“Kuroo must be following your lead and hiring college kids, eh?”
“Yeah. Because that worked out so well for me.”
“Hey!” Bokuto says, hurt.
“I’m joking! Just joking. You guys are great. Wouldn’t trade you for the world,” Tadashi insists, prompting Bokuto for a high five even though they are always way too enthusiastic and painful.
It was his grandfather’s idea to hire only university students. He said they’d be easier to boss around because they’d be closer to Tadashi’s age, not like Tadashi really cares about that. So naturally he opted to hire his closest friends, which has actually turned out pretty well for him. Bokuto and Hinata get on like a house on fire (his grandfather’s words, of course). Tadashi really wasn’t lying to Bokuto; there’s no one else he’d rather work with. Although he could use another set of hands around the shop. He’ll get to that eventually.
“You’re the best, Yamaguchi!”
“I know it. Can you go talk to the birds? They’re getting kind of loud.”
“My pleasure. Bird Keeper Bokuto, away!”
Bokuto salutes him and sprints to the other side of the store to coo at the cockatiels. The high school students Hinata had been entertaining wave as they walk past. Hinata hops up to the counter and beams. Three electronic beeps sound when the door is opened.
“Can you and I take the kittens home one night this week, Yamaguchi, please?”
“I don’t know, Hinata. My grandma’s getting pretty attached to them.”
His grandparents take the three unsold kittens every night after the shop closes up (save for the couple nights a week when Bokuto does). They light up every time he brings them over or one of them stops by the shop to pick them up for the night. He’s starting to wonder why they don’t just keep at least one of the kittens for themselves. Perhaps he’ll bring it up.
Tadashi just can’t bear to hear them mewl at him while he works like, what are you doing just sweeping that floor? Get us out of here! Give us a home! Attach more jingle bells to the side of our cage so we can swat at them nonstop and drive you insane! Look at our cute little faces. It’s the least we deserve!
“I know it is, buddies.”
“Huh?” Hinata says, cocking his head.
Tadashi reaches across the counter to ruffle his wild orange hair.
“Sure thing, Hinata. We can keep them this weekend.”
“For real?!” he squawks, not dissimilar to the sounds Bokuto makes over by the bird cages.
Tadashi hums. “But we have to be secret about it because of the whole ‘no pets’ thing.”
“What a lame rule.”
“I know, right?”
“Not like the landlord would care if she saw us carry them in,” Hinata replies, leaning his elbows on the counter. “She loves you.”
“Only because I give her a discount on fish food.”
“That’s what I mean.”
There’s a scuffling sound as Bokuto zips across the shop to where they stand. He alternates between tapping his fingers nervously on the counter and poking at his hair.
“Uh,” he starts, “anything need to be done in the stock room?”
“Don’t think so. What’s wrong with you?” Tadashi asks, checking his clipboard.
Bokuto pats at his hair once more and shrugs. “Nothing! Just wanna help out, is all.”
“Your fish guy’s coming in, isn’t he?”
Bokuto sighs. He scrubs his hands over his face and Hinata looks up at him with big, sympathetic eyes. Tadashi rolls his and Bokuto starts to wail.
“He’s not my fish guy, okay. He belongs to no one. He’s like the wind, or—or those birds that land by you in the park when they know you’ve got bread. He’s fish guy, tall and pretty and free.”
Tadashi snickers with amusement. “That was so gay, Bokuto.”
“It really kind of was,” agrees Hinata.
“Then you guys should appreciate it,” Bokuto retorts, fingers still drumming on the counter.
“We do,” Tadashi assures him.
“Bokuto, since when are you shy? You made out with Kuroo in the middle of campus on a dare, and—”
Tadashi cuts in, “Seriously, you did? Where was I?”
“—you’re like, the coolest guy ever! For real!”
Bokuto’s fingers still. “You really think that, Hinata?”
“Totally! You’re the king of all things cool!”
“The king of all things cool, huh,” Bokuto says slowly with a grin, as if assessing the way it tastes in his mouth. He straightens up and puts his hands on his hips, muscles flexing under the fluorescents of the pet shop. “You know what, you’re right. I’m gonna talk to him today. I’m the king of all things cool!”
“So cool!” Hinata and Tadashi shout back in unison.
“Okay—I’ll talk to him! I’ll ask him if he wants a fish!”
Three monotonous beeps ring through the shop once again when the front door opens. Bokuto immediately spooks and grabs the clipboard right out of Tadashi’s hand.
“Right after I do inventory!” he insists and zooms off.
* * * * *
Tadashi thinks it’s not exactly a sneak attack as Bokuto had claimed because Kuroo knows it’s happening and had probably begged for it. So when Bokuto sprints from the half-lit pet store right after closing with two handfuls of kittens, Tadashi sighs and trails after him. The tiny kittens are dwarfed even more dramatically in Bokuto’s giant hands.
Bokuto’s already sprinted down the sidewalk and barged into the (also closed) music shop with a victorious cry by the time Tadashi even makes it outside. He tries to pull the door open but it won’t move. Of course, he thinks, of course it opens for Bokuto, the spikey-haired kitten kidnapper and not for me, the tired exam-taking Tadashi who just wants to go home and go to bed. Of course, of course. Should’ve seen this coming.
Who knows how long Kuroo will fawn over those kittens. Tadashi should just leave and let Bokuto lock up and take them for the night. But instead, he raps his knuckles against the cool glass of Offbeat’s door.
“Bokuto, I need to bring those cats to my grandparents, you dumb idiot. Come on,” Tadashi whines to no one, “I need sleep. I shouldn’t have let Hinata go home early. Why am I so nice? Who let me be this nice? Who, who, why me—”
Tadashi cuts off when the door swings back. Tsukishima props it open with his foot and looks blankly down at him. Tadashi stares. Only moonlight illuminates his pale face, the lights from the stores on the strip having been shut off by this time of night, but his eyes still shine impressively beneath his glasses. There’s a soft, squeaky yawn and Tadashi finally looks away. His eyes flick downward to the three kittens in Tsukishima’s arms.
“I think these belong to you,” he says.
“That they do,” says Tadashi, taking them gently. They’re nearly sound asleep, their little bodies warm through Tadashi’s t-shirt. “Thanks a lot.”
“Sure.”
“What’re Kuroo and Bokuto doing?” he asks, trying to peek around Tsukishima’s lanky figure in the doorway. Tsukishima’s hand comes up to adjust his glasses.
“Pouting because I commandeered those cats.”
Tadashi chirps out a laugh.
“Well, they are pretty cute,” he says and Tsukishima raises an eyebrow at him. “The cats, I mean! Not Bokuto and Kuroo,” Tadashi clarifies frantically, although he does secretly think Bokuto and Kuroo are pretty cute, too.
“Right,” Tsukishima responds, his expression unreadable.
“Do, uh—do you like cats?”
Tsukishima shrugs. “I like creatures.”
Such odd diction, Tadashi thinks excitedly.
“Do you mind opening the door of my shop for me? I would, but…”
They both look down at his armful of kittens. Tsukishima nods curtly.
“No problem.”
Tadashi beams and Tsukishima steps out onto the sidewalk with him. The door of the music shop shuts heavily behind him and they start to walk. Tadashi grins down at the pavement, their footfalls in sync.
He thanks Tsukishima when he holds the door open for him, stepping into the shop to carefully place the kittens in their carrying case on the front counter. All three of them immediately nestle into one another in the new space. Once he’s buttoned the latch, he looks over to the doorway where Tsukishima lingers, staring owlishly into the half-lift shop. The low buzz of the aquaria is loud in the silence.
“I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi, by the way. I’m not sure if I’ve told you that yet,” Tadashi lies, stepping back over to him. He definitely knows he hasn’t introduced himself before this because he’s been waiting impatiently for the opportunity.
“Tsukishima Kei.”
“I got that.”
His fingernail clinks against Tsukishima’s plastic name tag he still wears when he taps at it. Tsukishima hums and shifts his weight to his other foot. A soft breeze enters the shop from the door he still holds open and it blows Tadashi’s bangs from his forehead. He reaches to straighten them out of habit.
“Do you think I could see the chameleon?” asks Tsukishima.
“Yeah, totally!” Tadashi chirps. “Can you just turn the lock behind you?”
“Got it.”
The lock latches with a dull sound and Tadashi turns on his heel so Tsukishima can’t see his embarrassing grin. They walk to Zelda’s terrarium under one of the only illuminated lights in the small shop.
“What about your friend?”
“Bokuto? He’ll be fine. He locked me out, I can lock him out.”
“Sound reasoning,” agrees Tsukishima and Tadashi snickers.
He ducks down to peer into the greenery of Zelda’s tank. Tsukishima stoops over too.
“Whoa,” Tadashi marvels, “I’m surprised she’s not sleeping.”
“So cool how her eyes flick around like that.”
“You think so? It always sort of freaks me out,” he admits, turning his head to look at Tsukishima.
He’s way closer than Tadashi thought he was. His middle finger is pressed to the bridge of his glasses to keep them from slipping as he bends over. When Tsukishima’s eyes flit from the terrarium, Tadashi quickly looks down. Tsukishima’s converse are impossibly white against the dull tile floor. I need to mop soon, Tadashi thinks.
“It does? Why?”
“I dunno, I mean—think about if our eyes could do that.”
“Do what,” implores Tsukishima, “move independently of one another?”
“Yeah. That wouldn’t freak you out?”
Tsukishima makes a thoughtful sound. They both turn to stare into the tank once more. Zelda takes her sweet time as she crawls up the giant tree branch suspended through the middle of it.
“It would be freaky,” Tsukishima answers a minute later.
Tadashi slaps his hands on his knees. “See?”
“My vision’s terrible enough as is. Not like hers, though—full range of motion, turreted eyes watching multiple directions at once, zooming in and out like miniature cameras. So neat.”
It’s the most Tadashi’s heard him talk thus far. He wants to hear way, way more. Damn it, I should stock more reptiles. We could walk down the line of them and he could probably say stuff like that about all of them—why’s he know this stuff, anyway? Is it just a general interest? Me too, Tsukishima, me too! The fact that I run this place is just an added bonus!
“Really neat,” he agrees, freckled cheeks flushing without his permission.
“How long has she been here?”
“About six months. So nearly half the time I’ve been the manager here.”
“I can’t believe no one’s bought her,” Tsukishima says. He lifts his fingers to the side of the tank.
Tadashi sighs. “Me either.”
It really is a shame. Chameleons of her kind only live up to around three years, and though she’s still a baby, Tadashi wants someone to snatch her up soon (not like he wants her gone from the shop, of course; she’s a treasure). And who knows when Wags and Whiskers will get more lizards? Grandpa, probably, Tadashi answers himself.
When Tsukishima’s arm falls back to his side, he leaves fingerprints on the glass.
“Sorry,” he apologizes. He pulls his sleeve over his hand and wipes it clean with the utmost care. He’s not sure why, but it makes Tadashi blush all over again.
He nearly jumps straight out of his skin with the single, cracking bang on the shop’s front door. Tsukishima doesn’t even flinch.
“Tadashi,” Kuroo calls through the glass.
“Yamaguchi, c’mon, open up! My stuff’s in there!”
“Tadashi, did you steal my employee?”
Tsukishima and Tadashi share a look.
“Where are the kittens?” Bokuto asks, cheek pressed to the door. “Did Tsukishima eat them or toss them into a black hole or something equally weird? Don't stare into his eyes, kittens! You’ll be cursed for a hundred years!”
“So that’s what he thinks of me,” Tsukishima deadpans and Tadashi loses it.
“Stop shouting or you’ll wake everyone up,” he insists through his laughter as he goes to the front of the shop. He can barely make out Kuroo and Bokuto’s faces in the darkness. When they speak through the glass, it makes them sound like they’re from another dimension.
“Tada—shiiii,” Kuroo lilts when Tadashi tells him this much, “we’ve come for your brains, Tadashi. We’re from the planet—shit, Bo, what planet are we from?”
“Uh, the planet of kitten protectors?”
“Love it. We’re from the planet of kitten protectors, let us in if you dare.”
“Are you zombies or aliens?” asks Tsukishima, seemingly materializing behind Tadashi as he unlocks the door. Bokuto immediately zips over to the counter to fawn over the sleeping kittens. Kuroo waltzes in after him.
“We’re this new species called ‘hey Tsukishima, aren’t you still on the clock?’”
Tsukishima squints at him. “Fair enough.”
“Sorry,” says Tadashi, “we were looking at Zelda.”
“My lovely lady!” Bokuto chimes in as he slings his backpack on.
Tadashi tells them all, “It’s way past my bedtime.”
“Fine. We’re out of here. See you fine gentlemen in the morning,” Kuroo says, ushering Tsukishima out the door. Tsukishima turns to Tadashi with one foot on the sidewalk.
“Thanks for showing her to me. That was cool of you.”
Tadashi smiles wide.
“Any time,” he insists, “I don’t mind.”
* * * * *
Tadashi’s favorite place to eat lunch is on an old bench nestled in a small, grassy area across the parking lot from the shop.
“Yamaguchi, are you gonna work here for a long time?”
“I hope so.”
Hinata shovels rice into his mouth and beams.
“‘Cause I was thinking,” he says after he swallows, “most people go to college in order to get a job. But you’ve already got one you’re gonna have for a long time, right?”
Tadashi hums. “I guess so, yeah. I guess I think of school as a kind of back-up plan.”
“You’ve got it all figured out, huh?”
Not in the slightest, Tadashi thinks, but he won’t let Hinata know that.
He’s the responsible one of the two of them; the one that makes sure their laundry gets done, their apartment stays at least moderately livable, their rent gets in on time, and about one billion other things. Tadashi’s known since high school that Hinata could never, ever—bless his heart—live alone.
“Wish I had a back-up plan,” Hinata goes on.
Tadashi ruffles his hair. “You’ll be just fine.”
“Yeah, I think so too. I’m not really too concerned about it,” Hinata admits cheerfully.
Tadashi admires that. They both watch with smiles as a woman walks a giant, fluffy dog down the sidewalk. It’s probably a good thing our building doesn’t allow pets, Tadashi muses, because I’d have way too many puppies than necessary. But what is the necessary number of puppies, anyway? Surely this can not be measured. Puppies defy all science and mathematics. They run on the power of love!
He takes a swig from the water bottle he shares with Hinata and places it on the bench between them. Tadashi turns to his left, eyeing the shop’s sign. The neon pink lettering contrasts wildly against the overcast sky.
Tadashi may not have gotten to change the name, but his grandfather did grant him the freedom to do whatever he might with the aesthetics of the place. Tadashi’s grateful. A year ago, the sign’s font was reminiscent of that of a funeral home—small, white, blocky, boring letters. But the large, looping letters of pink are so much more inviting. Momentarily, he eyes the blue signage above the music shop. It’s not bad. But Tadashi’s is just better. Hinata pats his shoulder and he turns to him.
“You don’t regret the hot pink, do you, Yamaguchi?”
Tadashi laughs. “No way.”
“Will you piggyback me back inside?”
“Okay, okay. Grab our trash.”
“Got it!” Hinata yelps, tossing their empty food containers into the nearby trash can.
“Hop on, crazy.”
Hinata’s jumping skills are concerning. Tadashi is shocked that he doesn’t overshoot and completely leapfrog him. He loops his arms under Hinata’s legs and bumbles back toward the shop.
“I’m not crazy, you’re crazy,” Hinata fires back.
“You are.”
“You are!”
“You are. I call last word.”
“But you always get last word,” he whines.
Tadashi snickers, “And don’t you forget it.”
They’re halfway across the parking lot when Tsukishima emerges from Offbeat’s front entrance. No hoodie today, Tadashi notes, but you’ve still got those kickass white shoes. Too cool!
They wave at each other and Tadashi beams.
“Hey! I’m slipping!” squawks Hinata.
“Whoops, sorry Hinata,” Tadashi says and hoists him further up his back.
Tsukishima eyes Hinata like a disgusting growth that sprouts from Tadashi’s shoulders, but Tadashi’s not actually sure if that’s what’s happening. He’s only pretty sure Tsukishima looks perpetually sullen and displeased, like he’s bitten into something far past its sell-by date. Totally should not find that endearing, Tadashi realizes and then shrugs his shoulders, thinking, hey, to each their own.
“Hey!” he greets once they’re close enough.
“Hey,” Tsukishima says. He swings a silver keyring around his index finger.
“What’s up?”
“Getting lunch.”
His eyes move from Tadashi’s to Hinata and then flit back again. He sort of looks like he wants to say more but Hinata has put him off the entire idea. But Tadashi’s probably just imagining it.
“Cool. We just had ours,” Tadashi tells him.
“Hi!” chirps Hinata, scrambling to drape himself over Tadashi’s shoulder.
“Hey.” Tsukishima swings the keyring once more.
“Can you guys get in here already?!” Bokuto screeches as he leans out the door of the pet shop. “I’ve had to pee so bad for like, twenty minutes now, oh my god. Oh, hey Tsukishima. What’s that pinched up face for? You always look like someone ran over your dog. Liven up a little, man!”
Tsukishima squints at the door even after Bokuto closes it behind him. He gives Tadashi a look when he chirps out a quick laugh.
“Sorry,” Tadashi tells him, “that was pretty funny though. Not that I, uh, think your face looks like that. I think it’s a fine face. I mean, it looks fine, er—have a nice lunch!”
Tsukishima’s pale face pinks only slightly, but it’s probably unnoticeable compared to the crimson that flushes over Tadashi’s own. He can practically feel Hinata’s questioning stare at the back of his head.
“Uh—” he starts. Tsukishima spares him.
“Thanks,” he interrupts. “See you, Yamaguchi.”
Hinata only speaks when Tsukishima’s disappeared around the corner of the strip.
“What the heck was that? You sounded like you were in high school again,” he giggles. “What’s the big deal? Also, that guy is super tall.”
“There is no big deal,” Tadashi answers quickly once they’re inside the shop. He drops Hinata from his back and he lands on his feet on the tile. He’s like a cat in that way. “There’s not even a little deal. You could use a microscope and six pairs of binoculars and you still wouldn’t find even the slightest speck of a deal, okay? There’s no deal. Nope.”
“You’re kind of weird,” Hinata tells him, head cocked and lips turned up in a smile.
“You’re weird.”
“You are.”
“You are.”
“You are—last word! Ha! I called it this time!”