Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

⁂

It Was Supposed To Be Fleeting.

A shared look across the room at the runway afterparty.

It was supposed to be fleeting, Yaku Morisuke said to himself as he relished the feeling of the most beautiful man he’d ever seen.

Of course, it was wrong for a designer to fraternize with a model. Haiba Lev, as cruel as it may seem, was only supposed to be a mannequin to him. Just a beautiful rack on which to drape beautiful clothing, a good place to put the ‘Nekoma’ label. That was the mindset that kept things professional. The mindset that also kept his industry so toxic.

But after sharing just a glance with that statuesque Adonis of a man, the liquor in Yaku’s blood ran through him with heat, longing. Never had a mere glance prompted so much in the designer, who was at least 17 years his model’s senior.

Yaku sat up in his bed. Red numbers on his digital clock told him just how early in the morning it was, 5:55am. 

A dark, rich duvet surrounded the designer, swamping him in warm and comfort. 

He needed such a thing. His one night stand was gone. 

Hopefully one night stand. 

As much as he hated to admit it, he wouldn't have minded sharing his bed for a while longer with the half-Russian model. Just a while longer, just enough to be able to ask him how he liked his coffee, or his eggs, and know if he woke up as beautiful as he was when he went to bed.

But the young man must've left sometime in the night. 

Suddenly Yaku's warm bed felt barren and icy. He slumped back into the sheets and waited for sleep to lull him to a more reasonable hour of morning, one where the pounding in his head wouldn't beat so hard.

Sleep never came.

⁂

Later in the day, Yaku sat in his office. There wasn't much to do other than click his pen as he attempted to ignore the reviews of his fashion show. He knew it was success, they always were. 

However, he always tried to give himself a buffer between the show and between people's opinions of it. 

Lest he go insane and try to change his lineup despite being incredibly too late past his deadline to make any changes, especially after a show that debuted said line. Yaku had to keep himself sane, especially with the demands of his high stress, high profile, high fashion career.

Today, he had to make sure he reeled in his stress. This entailed clicking his pen repeatedly, and staring at his reflection in the dead monitor of his computer. The bags under his eyes sure as hell didn't scream "Spring 20XX!" 

Maybe he'd send Yachi to grab coffees. 

He plucked his phone from the receiver before realizing that he had sent the poor girl to pick up bolts of fabric from the wholesale shops in the fashion district. He cursed himself for thinking he wouldn't get any karma for it. It was practically like throwing a Chihuahua into a Lion's den. Oh well, she’d manage and he’d manage.

Just as he laid the phone back on the receiver to mute the white noise (even that aggravated his headache, how old was he?!) an unfamiliar face knocked on his office door and proceeded to invite herself in, not even sparing a beat in between.

Yaku rose from his desk to greet the well dressed mystery woman as politely as possible, she seemed rather miffed.

"Hello ma'am, um I am actually not taking any meetings at the moment, I have a scheduled appointment a few minutes from now actually," he lied.

Towering above him, the woman slipped her sunglasses off of the smooth slope of her nose and up into her immaculately styled platinum hair. "I won't take long, it won't be necessary to reschedule anything." She smiled, too sweetly.

Yaku squinted, she looked familiar, perhaps a disgruntled model. 

She gave him a once over and sneered down at him "You're the designer? Yaku?"

He nodded, "Yes ma'am," he deadpanned. He didn't appreciate a condescending attitude from anyone, especially when it seemed to involve his height. He had dealt with enough snarky models who stood taller than Tokyo Tower to handle it though.

"Stay away from Haiba Lev. He doesn't need to sleep up the ranks, he's already good.”

Something in her expression seemed hurt, or concerned, he didn’t really care nonetheless.

“He doesn't need your help or anything from you whatsoever. Leave him alone. He's only 20 ." She narrowed her eyes at the ruddy haired man before her.

Yaku suppressed a gulp. "You're right. Haiba-kun is already good. He needs nothing from me."

She stared at Yaku, silent for a few grating, tension filled seconds before dropping her voice. "If you hurt him in any way, I have connections." She looked dead serious.

Yaku plopped back into his chair and chuckled "Yes, and this building has cameras and security, now please leave before I have one of them escort you out."

The woman faltered in her composure just a little before pushing her glasses back down to her nose and fluffing her hair. "Take care .” she paused, “I mean it."

Turning on her heel, she left his office. 

Yaku shook his head, breathing out a sigh of relief. He'd decided he'd call Yachi anyway. He definitely needed coffee after dealing with an angry girlfriend.

⁂

Yaku hummed as he sifted through the new velvets Yachi had brought in. She did good, his swatches matched the fabrics.

“So… I feel like a dirty old man.” He glanced up at his Head of Design, Nobuyuki Kai.

Kai tilted his head, he had a chalk pencil tucked behind one ear and a large roll of measuring tape draped across his shoulder. “What is it this time?”

An ornery grin sprang forth from Head of Marketing, Kuroo Tetsurou. He purred and made his way to the two men from his office threshold “Oh! Someone’s finally developed some self awareness!”

Yaku rolled his eyes “We’re the same age.”

“Ah, that’s incorrect, as I was born in November, and you were born in August. You are older.” Kuroo smirked like the tall asshole he was.

Kai, ever the one to stay on track, questioned Yaku “What makes you feel like a dirty old man?”

Yaku heaved a sigh, as if he wasn’t the one to initiate the conversation. “I slept with a model after the party…”

Kai tsked and shook his head “That’s not very commendable.”

Kuroo nodded “Very poor move on your part! Which one?” He dodged a tissue box aimed at his head “Hey!”

“It doesn’t matter, but he just happened to be the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. So it was excusable. Only issue is, I think an angry girlfriend came to visit and give me a piece of her mind.” Yaku slumped back into his chair, the fabric didn’t peak his interest any more, which was something to be said, given his dedication to his craft. 

“You need to be more careful. Do you really wanna cultivate that kind of thing at Nekoma?” Kai questioned him with a level voice, but he could feel the parental-like judgement emanating from him like a space heater.

“I know… but seriously, it wasn’t just a one night kind of thing for me…”

Kuroo raised a brow and sat on Yaku’s desk “Perhaps you are falling in love, surely HR could excuse that if it came up?”

Kai hummed “I don’t think Akaashi-san is one to let things slide. The question is, was it something truly wrong? Did you pressure the model or make any promises?”

Yaku mulled the foggy night over in his head “Well, it’s hard to remember, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t even know I was the designer until we were already in bed. So I couldn’t have coaxed him, not even unwittingly. He didn’t seem like the type of person clever enough to fake it either. Just a pretty model.”

“A pretty model worthy of your attention? Usually you hate the models. I just assumed it was the booze. Were his looks really that redeeming for you?” Kuroo swiped the cup of pens from Yaku’s desk before the smaller man could start clicking them. 

“It wasn’t just his looks, it was something about him, his eyes, his smile. I’m not embarrassed to outright say that he was magnetic. He wasn’t haughty or stuck up.”

“Good synonyms-” Kuroo was too close to dodge a spray of paperclips “-but you sure are embarrassed to not know his name huh?”

Yaku glared, eyes darting to his desk top. “I know his name. He’s rather up and coming as they would say. I hand picked him from a cast of models under contract.”

Kai worked on picking up the stray paperclips, which made Yaku feel a smidge guilty. 

“Haiba Lev? I remember you thumbing through his portfolio specifically.”

Kuroo chuckled in recognition “That one- he really was pretty! I think we used him for promotional material. He makes the clothes look really great.”

Yaku accepted the paperclips from Kai and dumped them back into their little organizer, keeping one to fiddle with. “I haven’t looked at any of that stuff yet.”

Kuroo frowned “Y’know… I reckon you go more crazy making yourself not look at it rather than actually looking at it. You get great reviews.”

Yaku groaned “Yes, but if I let it go to my head, I’ll produce disasters, I’ll let up and not fully flesh out the next thing because I feel safe. Plus, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to avoid the bad reviews. It’s art. It’s subjective, and if it makes the team happy, it’s a good line.”

Kuroo and Kai simply smiled at the designer. 

Yaku flushed and sputtered “Wh-what? I’m just being honest, if it’s good enough for my friends, it’s good enough for customers.”

Kuroo ruffled his hair “Sweet sweet grandpa!”

This earned the taller man a swift plummet to the floor. Yaku recovered from kicking him with a huff and a dusting of his slacks.

“I think I wanna see Haiba-kun again.”

Kuroo grumbled from the floor as he rubbed his hip from the fall. “Whatever, go for it. If he has a girlfriend though, you need to talk to him.”

Kai nodded in agreement “Speak with him first. You should also make sure you didn’t cross a boundary with him. Keep things professional, don’t give Akaashi reason to report you to any authorities. Keep your head, don’t be stupid...” Kai exchanged a knowing glance with Kuroo. “And… don’t get hurt. You deserve to be happy.”

Yaku glowered at them “I won’t ever be happy when you two communicate with just a look like creepy twins.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes this time, still on the floor, as comfy as ever like the tom cat he was “We’re proud of you, finally being interested in someone. Someone worth your time, you know unlike-”

Yaku threw the paper clips again. “Get out! You too Kai, just smiling like you’re watching a sitcom even though it’s my life!”

This was going to be an interesting day.

Chapter Text

⁂

Of Snakes and Pens.

Following a fashion show, Yaku's office would always buzz with energy. Not only from his own work flow, but also the constant stream of faces circling in and out of his office. Like sharks or puppies, they simultaneously wanted attention and feeding and it all felt like a big plan to smother him. Maybe they were like a snake instead, Yaku thought as he lazed about in his office, hiding behind the safety of his closed door. He always did feel rather constricted.

Anyways, it was hard to tell what kind of animal one's employees were. It was also fruitless to think of such things when he had much much more on the back burner of his mind to think about.

Pale, firm thighs for example. That was a really fun and honestly lewd thought that swam it's way into his mind from the night before. However, he quickly released it and switched over to the pretty thoughts of bodice lines, silhouettes, croquis sketches, reviews, patterns, fabric textures. 

And- as it always seemed to do, his mind wandered to the disasters of the day.

How many times would the pattern cutters forget to wash the expensive fabric before cutting it? How much money were they losing by having to donate useless scraps that would shrink too small for even the smallest seam allowance to local high school fashion design courses? 

His horror at spotting a student wearing a poorly constructed Vecuño wool hat was palpable to everyone on the train just last season. At least this time only a few yards of Linen were lost to the incompetence of men who he really should've fired already.

This was their lucky day however, because before he could entertain the thought much longer, a polite knock tapped at his door, and invited itself in- were manners just not 'on-trend' these days?

The owner of the knock was none other than Haiba Lev, the up and coming model who he must've banged into the next century the night before seeing as knocking and entering was now deemed a great way to greet one's celebrity boss.

"Hello Yaku-san!" Lev giggled. "Long time no see!" The corners of his lips dead pressed his supple cheeks upward as they flushed with cool pink. His green eyes, (peridot? No, emerald ) glittered as they caught the Spring sun beating in through the wide windows of the office.

Fuck.

Yaku glared, but on the inside he wasn't too bothered by the intrusion. "What do you want, Haiba-kun?" He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes to look away from the model before him. 

Lev gracefully sat on top of Yaku's desk, "I was wondering about my paycheck, you see-" he pointed a shiny varnished finger to his phone, which was rather old and dingy in comparison "my paycheck from the show hasn't come in yet, I don't think the direct deposit is working. I asked a lady who I thought did payroll but she couldn't help me since she isn't like… Allowed to write cheques or something?" He chuckled a bright bout of laughter and cocked his head as if to say 'Oh daddy I'm so sorry to bother you!' Like he said the night before.

Yaku shivered, the way Lev's collarbone and décolletage peeked out beneath the weave of his loose sweater was impressive in itself, but the way it caught the sunlight like moon stones reflecting onto the earth- that took his breath away. 

Nevertheless he cocked his brow and dared to meet the flirty green eyes before him. 

"The lady is Shirufuku-san. Learn people's names.  Plus- I don't usually deign to write a cheque, my colleagues already think I'm too old, but I guess I can make an exception." He sighed as he pulled out a blank paycheck from the locked drawer of his desk. 

"Ah!" Lev's hands flew together in one gleeful clap "Thank you! It means the world, I can't always spend the night in a handsome man's bed, I have to pay rent for my own sometimes!"

Yaku grimaced "Haiba-kun… You should know that last night was not a normal occurrence from me. Do not expect special treatment or anything of the sort again… I'm a professional man."

Lev innocently rose from the desk, watching as Yaku was forced to raise his eyes in response to the change of planes.

"No need to worry Yaku-san! I am excited about my contract, I plan to be the best asset to your brand and name that I can be. And I will be better than everyone else. I don't need special treatment to make it."

Yaku looked down to write Lev his paycheck, eyes trailing the frame of the taller man as he did so.

"I know. Your girlfriend made that much clear when she rudely interrupted my morning." He pursed his lips.

Lev's eyes widened in slight surprise, Yaku could tell as much from the abrupt change in body language of the model. 

He knew it. Suddenly his mind was on the topic of firing again.

Lev cleared his throat in recovery "Yaku-san, it is very impressive that you somehow know more than I do about my love life!"

Yaku scoffed "What're you getting at you idiot?" 

Lev smirked. "I don't date girls. You likely met my big sister, she's very protective. You'd think you'd recognize we're related by our height, but I guess all tall people look the same to shorties like you, Yaku-san~" Lev giggled again.

Suddenly the mysterious and flirty man from the night before had lost a considerable deal of charm.

Yaku sneered "Get out of my office." He flung the cheque at Lev. 

The check, as paper often does when thrown, fluttered gently down to the floor beyond his desk.

Lev smiled sweetly. He maintained eye contact with Yaku like a finishing school graduate until the check silently met the carpet. 

His eyes turned, beneath long, pale lashes to greet the check, and he bent down to acquaint it with his hand, picking it up in a port desk bras forward. In other words, he bent down while keeping his legs absolutely straight and his ass in the air.

Ah yes. Yaku remembered his flexibility. 

Lev rose, cheque in hand, and cheeky grin wrinkling his eyes. "Sorry."

Yaku groaned in frustration "Whatever, just make sure you sort out the direct deposit business with Shirufuku. It isn't my job to fix it for you, this is a one time thing."

Lev nodded eagerly "Will do!" He quickly exited the office, with not so much as a 'thank you' or a 'goodbye'.

Yaku rubbed his temples as the paradoxically gangly, elegant man left his office.

He listened as his heavy steps hurried from the hall to the elevator of the floor. 

Now, Yaku's mind was occupied by a lot of things. 

To soothe the cacophony of dirty thoughts, which treaded between 'what a beautiful figure,' to 'wow he is so immature I feel even worse about banging him', Yaku directed his diligent mind to the research and planning of his Summer collection.

He rose from his desk despite the tightness in his pants and began work taking down the sketches and inspiring cut outs from his cork board collage that took up one of his few walls unoccupied by windows. 

Yes, he thought. His employees were much like a snake. A Boa Constrictor if you will. 

He tossed a few pictures of inspiration that a few of his colleagues deemed a bit too risky and out there for his conservative fashion house. 

Clicking the end of an unfortunate spare pen, Yaku lamented his lack of assertion when it came to his ideas.

He knew he could be adventurous with his designs, yet maintain the elegance his brand was so known and admired for. It was ironic that the same employees that called him old were also the ones who perpetrated the dull designs he was pressured to churn out.

Grabbing a piece of paper, he quickly sketched out the sweater Lev had been wearing. Brown, loose, stretched at the collar enough to show glorious pectorals and perhaps the feathered edge of a bruise he himself had left- he omitted that from the sketch- Yaku captured the lazy and effortless elegance of the knit. 

He stared at the picture for some time, before stuffing it under the many magazines and print outs on his table.

Despite hiding his sketch, his heart pounded in his chest.