Archive of Our Own ^beta

– October 31 ^st

Iwaizumi Hajime’s morning began with him finding somebody’s severed arm behind a row of sugar-free apple juice. It was – his Apple Watch lit up as he checked – 7:16 a.m. He sighed.

“Alright,” he pulled the arm free from the shelf and waved it around. The hand flopped in tandem, wrist bones soft and too squishy to hold its weight. “Whose is this?”

An elderly woman stared as she hobbled past, impossibly slow. Her walking stick clacked with each step on the white-tiled floors Iwaizumi had just spent the last thirty minutes mopping. Behind him somewhere, a child giggled. Iwaizumi turned and caught the little culprit. Peeking out from behind the cartoned juices aisle was a little boy with stitches drawn across his face, in a shirt that was obviously too big for him. He waved shyly at Iwaizumi, hand flopping. Iwaizumi waved the matching arm back.

“Seems like you’ve lost an arm.”

The boy giggled again, before he dashed out from behind the shelves and grabbed the arm from Iwaizumi. He ran away without a glance back, his laugh echoing through the air over an acoustic cover of The Rocky Horror Picture Show’s Time Warp. Iwaizumi could only stare. Halloween was always chaotic at the store, but especially when it fell on a weekend and kids were set loose as desperate parents searched for last-minute outfits and candies. Even the early hour couldn’t stop them from wreaking havoc. Iwaizumi already knew this wouldn’t be the only Halloween prop he would find wedged in the middle of nowhere today. 

Blue Castle’s Halloween playlist came to an abrupt pause as Matsukawa’s voice droned out from the speakers. 

“Attention all customers, this is a gentle reminder to not – I repeat – to not open any of our Halloween blood capsules and use them in-store. Yes, sir, I am talking to you. Put the capsules down. Sir, put them down. Put them–” A muffled thunk crackled over the entire store as Matsukawa undoubtedly face-planted on the counter, his hair flopping sadly over the mic. Iwaizumi could picture it in his head. It happened at least fifteen times a workweek. His voice came back on, sounding completely defeated, “Calling for a cleanup at Customer Service.”

Iwaizumi began to lug the mop and pail over. The fake blood would take at least ten minutes of furious scrubbing, as he had learnt from previous years. The store had only been open for twenty minutes at this point. He felt a headache coming on. He needed another shot of coffee. Halloween sucked.

“Iwa-chan!” And the headache crested. The personification of the dark shadow that haunted Iwaizumi’s every waking moment bounded over, all six foot one of him and that stupid crown of floppy brown hair. He was dressed in costume today, as all staff were. His dark coat had a high collar accentuated in red lining and the white shirt he wore had a ruffled collar and more than his usual buttons open. His long neck looked impossibly even longer. Iwaizumi wanted to wring it.

“And who are you meant to be?”

Oikawa pressed a casual shoulder against the juice shelf. He held his two hands up beside his mouth, index fingers curved downward in mock imitation. “Vampire, obviously.”

“I’m pretty sure vampires don’t use–” Iwaizumi held up his fingers the same way Oikawa had, “–their fingers to suck blood.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “I’m waiting until my break to buy one of those fake sets of teeth,” he said, a little petulantly. His freckles were stark against his pale skin under the fluorescent lights. He gave Iwaizumi a once-over. “And who are you meant to be?”

Iwaizumi adjusted the wig on his head and fixed the sleeve of his plaid flannel shirt. He relaxed his eyelids. Deepened his voice. “Matsukawa.”

Oikawa stared. Iwaizumi resisted the urge to flick the curl of hair that had fallen over his eye. Maintained the same dead-eyed look. 

“Ridiculous,” Oikawa eventually said. “No one’s going to get it.”

“Hanamaki’s going to get it.”

“Congratulations,” Oikawa said dryly. “You get the acknowledgement of our brightest employee.”

“It’s better than looking like Edward Cullen.”

Oikawa merely smiled in response. “Anyway!” He started to walk away, back to the booth that radiated the same pompousness as the man who ran it. Despite the early hour, there was already a small crowd of girls waiting, chatting among themselves and occasionally glancing over anxiously at him. “Don’t you have a stain to clean? The red’s going to set soon!” 

He turned and waved at his group of fans, who all waved eagerly in return. As the small cheers of the girls rang out in the store, he glanced back. “You know what, I get it, Iwa-chan. It’s aspirational. If I were your height, I would never stop dreaming about being someone taller, too.”

Iwaizumi dropped the act. Matsukawa’s signature expression turned into Iwaizumi’s own glare. “You–!”

“And don’t talk shit about Edward Cullen.” 

With that, he was off, sauntering to his fangirls who immediately started fawning over him the second he stepped into the aromatic bubble that was the seven-foot radius surrounding his fragrance booth. Iwaizumi only broke off his glare when Oikawa laughed at something one of the girls said, his smile sweet and bashful as he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. What a fake. 

Praying that that would be the only interaction the man would weasel out of him today, Iwaizumi finally made his way over to the red synthetic blood the customer had spilled on the floor. Channelling all the frustration Oikawa had caused in him, he put his back into it, scrubbing at the floor until the stain was gone and the tile was back to pristine white. It took him half the time it usually would have. He barely had the chance to feel a sense of accomplishment before he was off to solve another problem – one of the seasonal staff hired for the last quarter of the year was arguing with a customer, who was attempting to pay for his purchase with expired coupons.

From there, it was problem after problem – a carton of spilt milk that had been left behind in the diapers section like a hit-and-run, kids riding bikes in the store beyond their designated try-out boundaries, a torn bag of mixed Halloween candies because a customer only wanted to purchase one type of sweets for trick and treating – all of it left Iwaizumi busy and exhausted by the time his lunch break came around. 

He punched out, his entire right frame leaning on the wall as he summoned the strength to zip his employee card through the reader. He needed the support. Both physically and emotionally. He dragged himself into the quiet chatter of the break room, morosely making his coffee and heating up his lunch. The microwave was still stained from Hinata’s curry fiasco two weeks ago. He was so tired he couldn’t even find it in him to care. He merely grunted in acknowledge at Matsukawa when he made his way over to their usual table. Matsukawa patted his back in understanding.

They ate in companionable silence, Matsukawa occasionally huffing a laugh at whatever stupid TikTok video Hanamaki was probably sending him from outside. Iwaizumi worked steadfastly through his chicken pasta. A guffaw broke out at one of the other tables. Kuroo’s wild honks joined in by Bokuto’s booming laughter. Akaashi had probably made another quiet joke. Any other day, he would have turned and joined in. Instead he speared another chicken thigh on his fork and ate. 

When Oikawa slid into the chair beside him, he didn’t react. Which, to be fair, was pretty normal. Something must have shown on his face though, or perhaps in the set of his shoulders, because Oikawa didn’t open with scooting his chair as humanly possible to his, didn’t bat his eyelashes and croon, “Iwa-chan~” as he swooped in to steal a bite of Iwaizumi’s lovingly handmade pasta. Instead he merely sat, peeled back the lid of his Tupperware, and started munching on his salad. 

His voice, so often pitched to annoy, was quiet when he asked Matsukawa if he had seen the latest sci-fi movie that had dropped. Their voices droned on around him as they began discussing their opinions on the plot, soothing like a podcast. 

Iwaizumi worked his way through his pasta. Oikawa was gesturing wildly with his hands, Matsukawa’s grin lazy on his face as he nodded along to whatever Oikawa was saying. He was complaining about the complete idiocy that was the male love interest’s death scene, his voice growing louder and his gestures growing more erratic the more agitated he got. It seemed inevitable, given his love for the dramatics and Matsukawa’s ability to roll completely with the punches, that they would end up clutching each other over the table, Oikawa fake sobbing as they re-enacted what was, apparently, the most melodramatic death of all time.

Matsukawa’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, slumping over as he fake died. 

Oikawa wailed. “But we’re going to be saved in five minutes!”

Iwaizumi huffed a quiet breath of laughter. Oikawa’s eyes slid open, found his. 

“We found that secret compartment with extra oxygen tanks forty minutes ago, don’t you remember?” Oikawa’s lips curved slightly as Iwaizumi let out another sound of amusement. He let out another cry of anguish, before bowing his head in grief. He lifted his head back up, suddenly. “And, scene!”

They broke apart, Matsukawa and Oikawa bowing dramatically to the whoops that erupted in the break room. Bokuto and Kuroo were giving them a standing ovation. Iwaizumi didn’t join in and finished the rest of his pasta instead, although he felt the smile tug on his own lips as he caught Oikawa’s eye again. A strange surge of something erupted in his chest, when Oikawa winked at him and smiled playfully. 

“Feeling better, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked when the applause died down. He finally pushed in closer to Iwaizumi’s own seat.

“Worse, actually,” Iwaizumi responded, although that strange buoyant feeling hadn’t disappeared. “You’re a really ugly crier.”

Oikawa gasped in full offence. “I’ll have you know, my ex developed a dacryphilia kink when he was with me.”

Iwaizumi wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

“Those were just fake tears, Iwa-chan. When I cry for real, I am iridescent. Captivating. Enthralling.”

“Annoying,” said Iwaizumi.

“Whoa there,” said Hanamaki, who was joining their table for his own lunch break.

“Thank God,” Matsukawa muttered.

“When did you finally get someone to clone you, Issei?” Hanamaki asked, as he looked between Matsukawa’s entertained expression and Iwaizumi’s own triumphant one. Oikawa rolled his eyes when Iwaizumi looked pointedly at him.

“He’s pretending it’s a good costume, obviously.” 

“No way!” Hanamaki exclaimed, as Iwaizumi readjusted his expression to imitate Matsukawa’s. “I could swear there are two Issei’s in front of me right now. You look just like him, Iwaizumi!”

“Doesn’t he?” Matsukawa drawled, an amused smirk on his lips.

“Don’t I?” Iwaizumi said.

“Oh, shut up,” Oikawa huffed. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine, gang up on me, all of you. Bully the new guy. The odd one out. The outcast. The loner. The–”

“You haven’t been new in four months.” As much as he tried, Iwaizumi couldn’t help the smile from edging out onto his lips. Maybe because Iwaizumi had been having a shit day and Oikawa had miraculously made it slightly – only slightly – better, when he usually made it worse. Or maybe because, day-old and microwaved as it was, his pasta had slapped. It was probably the pasta. 

“Bullies!” Oikawa pointed at the three of them accusingly. “This is workplace harassment.”

“Who are you going to report us to?” Hanamaki asked as he opened a can of Coke, a casual arm slung over Matsukawa’s shoulder. “The Manager? Oh wait! She’s out on maternity leave. You could try the Assistant Manager instead.”

Iwaizumi smirked. “Yeah, why don’t you give him a shot?”

“Corruption.” Oikawa sunk into the back of his seat. “This whole store is corrupt.”

“Personally,” Matsukawa began, “if I were the one getting special privileges from the boss, I wouldn’t complain of corruption.”

Iwaizumi frowned.

“Special privileges?” Oikawa asked, with a quick glance at Iwaizumi. “What special privileges?”

“You know Iwaizumi chased out a group of teens yesterday for loitering, right?” Hanamaki asked. Iwaizumi started to pack up his things. His lunch break was coming to a close, too fast as always. Although there was nothing more he wanted to do right now than escape back out into the wilderness of the storefront, if that meant avoiding this conversation. “Has he ever chased out any of your fans?”

“Okay!” Iwaizumi said as he stood up. “Matsukawa.” He diligently ignored Oikawa’s eyes on him, and the flush that was beginning to creep up his neck. God, was it warm in here? The fluorescent lights were starting to get to him. “I believe your lunch break began before mine. So let’s get going.”

Matsukawa gave him a lazy salute, although his smirk was a little too knowing. “Aye, aye, captain.”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa was beginning to say, in an awful voice. “Iwa-chan!” As Iwaizumi ignored him and went about packing his things back into his locker. He didn’t hurry, but Iwaizumi certainly wasn’t dawdling as he punched back in with fervour. Oikawa’s voice faded as he had speed-walked his way out of the break room and back to the storefront, where immediately, his attention was called by a customer.

Iwaizumi sighed. In relief, this time.

–

He was taking down the decorative skeletons they had hung along the ceiling vents when Oikawa finally managed to catch him. The whole day had been a blur, but that hadn’t stopped their eyes from catching each other’s occasionally, as much as Iwaizumi had fought against it. 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa called softly from below. Iwaizumi gritted his teeth. This was it. He continued to untie the skeleton.

“Look, Oikawa–”

“Didn’t they teach you not to stand on a ladder without someone holding it?”

Iwaizumi paused. “What?”

“You could have seriously gotten injured, you know.” Oikawa began tutting. “It’s basic safety training.”

“Oh.” Iwaizumi’s hands found their way back to the string. He finished untying the last loop. The skeleton was a light, plastic thing in his hands. Oikawa held steady as he climbed down, until they were finally at eye level.

Oikawa beamed at him, too bright in the dark of the closed store. He had indeed purchased the set of fake vampire teeth sometime during his break. They looked goofy, as all vampire teeth sets did, sets did. They jutted out from his mouth slightly, a hint of fang against plush lips. 

“How many more?” 

Iwaizumi flung the skeleton into the cart of festive decorative goods. “Four.”

“We’ll finish quickly, then,” Oikawa said, as he began closing the ladder and bringing it to the next spot. The teeth gave him a slight lisp. Iwaizumi stared, and then dragged the cart along.

They worked in companionable silence. The Halloween playlist had been turned off a while ago, and now the store was only filled with the distant, muted sounds of staff closing cash registers. It was Iwaizumi’s favourite sound in the world, a symphony that signalled the end of one of their busiest days of the year. Iwaizumi was looking forward to curling up on his sofa, maybe finally crack open the book he had bought three months ago. Ignore all possible embarrassing thoughts of tall, long-limbed vampires, and then fall asleep probably having failed. 

Oikawa began humming a little as they were working on the last skeleton. After Iwaizumi had untied the last loop and thrown the skeleton into the cart, he nodded at Oikawa. “Thanks for helping. You could have gone home a while ago.”

“Yeah, well.” Oikawa smiled playfully at him. “I would have written you up to the Assistant Manager for ignoring safety rules, but I hear he’s not above bending the rules for me, so.”

“Oikawa–”

“Thank you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa continued. He was gazing at Iwaizumi, a thing he did sometimes. His smile turned genuine, a soft thing. Iwaizumi was startled by the simplicity of it. The only light that was still on at the back of the store flickered. “However I’ve already informed my loyal club of fans that they can no longer loiter in the store just to talk to the one and only, magnificent me.”

And the moment was changing again, the rounded edges of it shaping into something more familiar. Something that Iwaizumi had grown used to, ever since Oikawa had wandered into their store on his first day, and sparked the usually calm, polite, rational Iwaizumi into whatever he was now, whenever he was around Oikawa. He grasped onto it desperately, ignoring the way his heart had fallen slightly out of rhythm, and said what was instinctive instead.

“That must have been very difficult for you.”

“I’m heartbroken, Iwa-chan. Who else is going to keep me company during the lonely, lonely hours of work?”

“I’m sure you’ll find somebody.”

Oikawa looked at him. The moment spread between them, teetering between normalcy and something new, the launch into unexplored territory that was beginning to leave Iwaizumi breathless. “I have no choice but to. After all, the Assistant Manager can’t be giving me special privileges. What would people begin to think, that he likes me?”

“That’s nasty,” Iwaizumi replied immediately, frowning. He scrunched up his nose at the idea, there it was again, the stuttering staccato in his chest. “Who would like you, loner?”

Oikawa laughed. He began leading the way into the warehouse, where they would dump the ladder and cart. His laugh drifted off into a small smile. 

“Silly, Iwa-chan. So, so silly,” he said, like he had a secret, a funny little thing Iwaizumi wasn’t aware of.

Iwaizumi didn’t dignify that with a response. 

– November 24^th  

Black Friday was, actually, hell on earth. Whoever decided to turn the day into a stupid, stupid, opportunity for massive capitalistic profit was a stupid, stupid person whose feet Iwaizumi was currently wishing would manage to find a lego piece every morning right out of bed. 

In the real world, a customer was screaming at him to, for the love of God, find him the last 42-inch OLED television in the store or he was going to burn the place down. Because his grandmother was dying. It was her last few days on earth. And she desperately needed this specific model to watch whatever the hell she usually watched. 

“Sir, I understand. If you could give me a minute to check in the back for you–” 

Then go, the man was telling him, and Iwaizumi felt a massive wave of relief as he walked away from him, from the chaos surrounding him as customers dashed across the aisles. He caught a glimpse of Kageyama’s awkward, startled face as a customer ran up to him, panting as she asked him where the laundry pods were. Walking past him, Akaashi’s usually stoic face seemed like it was about to crack right into a scream of frustration as he led a group of customers to the inflatable pool section. Kuroo’s hair was even higher than normal.

Iwaizumi sent all of them sympathetic thoughts as he made his way to the back of the store, where the warehouse was. Inside, the chaos that was Black Friday seemed to fade away, employees meandering about and taking their time to locate products to escape the madhouse that was outside. Iwaizumi, too, slowed down, taking a leisurely walk amongst the aisles as if he didn’t know where they stocked the televisions. 

He strolled past the diapers, the in-line skates, took a detour around lighting. He considered briefly if he should buy new light bulbs. Maybe a new pan? He turned to head to their cookware.

“Oh, here–” One of their older employees was struggling with a couple of boxes that had fallen off her trolley. “Let me help.” 

Iwaizumi was already bending down and lifting the biggest and flattest one when Himari-chan slapped him playfully on the shoulder.

“Oh, Hajime! I’m not that old, you know.”

“I know!” She had had a hip replacement done just last year. Her fingers were wizened and even the worst customers never asked her for any help. Instead, she hobbled around the store with a duster, dusting the shelves she could reach. She had been with the store for thirty years. “I would never think that,” Iwaizumi said, as he lifted the second box. The fabric of his Blue Castle employee polo stretched around his biceps, the box heavier than expected. 

“You flatterer,” Himari-chan laughed. “Oh, not all the boxes are that heavy. I can lift too.” 

She bent down to grab at the smallest of the boxes, but before Iwaizumi could stop her, someone was dashing up and picking the box up from the floor instead. 

Oikawa tutted. “Himari-chan, what did we say about dropped boxes?”

“Oh, Toto,” she beamed at him, tapping his cheek lightly. Oikawa’s face scrunched up at her. “I couldn’t call you over, I had no idea you were even in here!”

“I’m wherever you need me to be, Himari-chan.”

“Flirt!” She threw at him, accusingly in jest. 

Iwaizumi bent to lift the last of the boxes, which turned out to be the heaviest. Years of training at the gym had him adjusting immediately. He widened his stance, straightened his back, and bent his knees. His slacks went tight around his lower body as he bent. The box lifted surprisingly easily, about half of what he was used to. When he turned after placing it on the trolley, he was greeted by the twin stares of Himari-chan and Oikawa, whose own box he still held in hand. 

Iwaizumi lifted a brow questioningly. 

“Good form, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said and cleared his throat. His eyes were darting around a little wildly, from the box Iwaizumi had just placed down, to his arms, to his chest – and when Iwaizumi lifted a hand to wipe at the bead of sweat that had formed at his brow – there, too. His eyes finally landed on Iwaizumi’s hips, where Iwaizumi had planted his hands. 

“All good, Himari-chan,” Iwaizumi said, ignoring Oikawa’s odd behaviour. The man was a master at eye contact. Usually, anyway. “Is there anything else you need help with?” 

“Not at all, Hajime,” she said, fanning herself a little. “Although it seems Toto might be out of a job helping me.”

Oikawa cleared his throat again. He placed his box delicately on top of the one Iwaizumi had just laid down. “Excuse me,” he said, and then he was off, as sudden as he had appeared, steps a little hurried.

“What’s up with him?” Iwaizumi asked.

“I think he needs a cool drink,” Himari-chan said, a sly smile on her face. “It’s gotten a little hot in here, hasn’t it?”

Iwaizumi wiped another bead of sweat off his forehead. The air-conditioner wasn’t as strong in the warehouse as it was at the storefront, and Iwaizumi had just lifted three pretty heavy boxes. “Yeah, I guess it has.”

Himari-chan sighed.

– December 14^th  

6:30 a.m. The employees of Blue Castle filed in slowly, punching in with barely any energy. Iwaizumi stood at the front of the break room, clipboard in hand. He had been here since 6, sorting out shift schedules and filing papers. He was already on his second cup of coffee. He would need at least two more, today.

“Morning, everybody,” he began.

He mostly got grunts back, save for twin Good morning’s from Hinata and Kageyama, and a bright Good morning, Iwa-chan! from Oikawa, who never looked anything less than perfect, even at this hour. His hair was coiffed to perfection and Iwaizumi knew, every curl would last the entire workday, defying all laws of physics to do so. 

“Let’s start with shift allocations. Matsukawa, customer service.” Matsukawa let out a small whoop. “Hanamaki, electronics. Akaashi, beauty. Oikawa, perfume. Hinata and Kageyama, Christmas decorations. Bokuto and Kuroo, floor.” The list went on, Iwaizumi reading out the rest of the allocations as the rest of the employees took the time to start sipping on their cups of coffee, yawn, stretch, apply deodorant. Iwaizumi paused. Kyoutani, one of their seasonal hires, looked back at him. Iwaizumi pushed forward. And then when it was done, he said, “Also, corporate has organised a catered lunch today, so please enjoy your lunch breaks.”

Immediately, the room broke out into excited chatter. No one was falling asleep now. 

“A catered lunch?” Hinata asked, his eyes wide and sparkly like he had never had lunch before.

“Corporate’s never done that,” Akaashi murmured.

Even Kyoutani had placed the aerosol down to pump a small fist in the air.

Iwaizumi let them go on. Akaashi was right. Corporate rarely rewarded their stores with the luxury of a full spread for lunch. They had celebrated the seventh anniversary of their store opening earlier this year with a measly banner and a fruitcake that corporate had sponsored from their in-store cafe. The Blue Castle employees were unsurprisingly excited, the conversations growing louder as they started speaking to each other across the room.. 

And when the talking and the noise seemed to reach its loudest, Iwaizumi quickly murmured into the chatter, “Also, the new Regional Supervisor will be visiting us today for his first store check-in.”

And he would have gotten away with it too, if not for Bokuto and his weird super ultra bat-like hearing.

“What?” Bokuto exclaimed. “The new Regional Supervisor will be visiting us today for his first store check-in?”

Iwaizumi face-palmed into his clipboard. Immediately, the mob descended on him, the mood swinging from overjoyed to betrayed in an instant. 

“How could you!” someone cried, as if Iwaizumi had personally planned this. 

“Down with the upper class!” Hanamaki rallied. 

“Look,” Iwaizumi held up both his hands in surrender. “It was supposed to be a surprise, but I am telling you guys in advance so that when he comes in, our store will be pristine, and we’ll all still have our jobs at the end of the day.”

“He?” Bokuto, again.

“Pristine?” Kuroo groaned. His head was in his hands. Iwaizumi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He loved his team, truly, but any mention of inspection checks inevitably had them acting as though the day of reckoning had finally arrived.

“Do you know what he’s like, Iwaizumi-san?” Hinata asked, who looked two seconds away from puking. 

“No, unfortunately,” Iwaizumi said. “I’ve never met him. We’ve only spoken on the phone, once, when he was first hired.” 

More chatter, but distressed, this time.

“I can tell you his name, though,” Iwaizumi said, referring to the clipboard once again to make sure he got it right. “Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

–

Ushijima Wakatoshi on first real impression, was a formidable man. Tall and smartly dressed in a suit, Iwaizumi swore a hush fell across the room when he walked in, as he stood in a line with his best employees awaiting Ushijima’s arrival. That was until he tripped on the lining of the entrance rug, which he shouldered with quiet severity. A snicker broke out over the store’s PA system. Damn it, Matsukawa.

Iwaizumi walked forward to greet him. “Ushijima-san. I am Iwaizumi Hajime, Assistant Manager. We spoke over the phone a few weeks ago.”

“Iwaizumi-san,” Ushijima shook his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I am eager to begin my appraisal of the store. Perhaps we could begin with the warehouse.”

Straight to business, then. Alright. Iwaizumi was just about to agree when a shrill sound burst out from behind him.

“You?” The shrill sound was Oikawa, who was now gaping in shock. Iwaizumi swivelled his head between the two men.

“Oikawa-san,” Ushijima said. Iwaizumi thought he sounded surprised, but it was hard to tell. “What are you doing here?”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “Are you blind?” He gestured to his Blue Castle work vest. “I work here.”

Stunned silence. From Iwaizumi and the rest, at the gall of Oikawa’s impoliteness. From Ushijima, Iwaizumi didn’t know but he had to guess it was the same. 

“You,” Ushijima said into the silence. “Work, here?”

“Yes,” Oikawa answered. Steadily. A touch defensively. He was glaring daggers at Ushijima. Iwaizumi had never seen him behave this way to anybody. Even the most tiresome customers were dealt with with politeness and charm. Only Iwaizumi, it seemed, was victim to Oikawa’s latent tendency to annoy. But Ushijima had seemed to unlock another of Oikawa’s emotions: genuine irritation. What was going on here?

Ushijima seemed to have frozen. Stock-still at the entrance of the store, he didn’t seem to notice that he was blocking a customer from pushing their trolley further in. Iwaizumi’s hands were about to start sweating.

“Haha!” He let out, suddenly, into the awkward void that had started to fill the store. “Yes, the back is just around the back.” What was happening. “I’ll bring you in, Ushijima-san, if you would just follow me.”

He gestured toward the back of the store. Ushijima eventually rebooted, accepting Iwaizumi’s invitation and making his way through the line of now frozen employees. Iwaizumi gestured frantically at them to disperse and get back to their allocations. When he made eye contact with Oikawa, he hoped that he successfully conveyed the twin emotions of What the ever-loving fuck was that, and Get back to work. From the way Oikawa huffed and stalked away to the perfume booth, he had. 

By the time Iwaizumi started his tour of the warehouse, Ushijima was back to normal. If his normal meant straight-backed rigidity to rules and regulations, and a laser focus on the small imperfections of the store. 

Ushijima lifted his finger from where he had just run it over the top of their filing cabinet. The look he delivered at Iwaizumi was enough to convey his disapproval. Iwaizumi smiled tersely in response. 

After several more rounds of such exchanges, Iwaizumi was beginning to run out of patience and polite alternatives to: “We work in a superstore. No one has the time to dust behind the printer. Maybe if you paid us more and hired more people, we might.” Getting out of the warehouse was a relief, although the storefront presented its own sets of challenges. When he led Ushijima out from the warehouse, he sincerely prayed that Bokuto and Kuroo weren’t gossiping over the store’s intercom again. Thankfully, they were on their best behaviour, attentively swooping in to help the customers that came Iwaizumi’s way despite him very obviously being busy. 

Iwaizumi continued on his tour, walking past rows of produce, freshly stocked and assembled in perfect order by the team hurriedly in the morning. The furniture section was spotless. The clothing section and the fitting room had fallen into disarray, but Kageyama and Hinata were two raven and orange-haired blurbs flying about, in what was probably another bet to see who could fold and organise shirts faster.  

Iwaizumi motioned to the fragrance booth as they strolled by. 

“This is our fragrance booth.” He gestured to the white circular counter, its glass top meticulously wiped clean of finger marks. “It is one of the best and most popular stations in the store. About ten percent of our monthly sales are made here.”

Ushijima paused, his attention on the man standing behind the counter. Oikawa was aggressively polishing a perfume bottle, his back turned to them. 

“Oikawa-san,” Ushijima called.

Oikawa did not respond, nor did he turn around. He started to polish the bottle even harder. 

Iwaizumi cleared his throat. “Apologies. Our staff seems a little preoccupied. Perhaps we could revisit the booth a little later?” 

From the way Oikawa’s shoulders tensed, Iwaizumi suspected that he was not going to survive the day if Iwaizumi brought Ushijima back for a second inspection. 

“Oikawa-san,” Ushijima continued, undeterred. He turned to Iwaizumi when Oikawa didn’t respond. “How long has he been working here?”

“Six months.”

Ushijima paused. “Do you know of his background?”

“Uh,” Iwaizumi said, smartly. “Grew up in the region, has a sister and a nephew, played volleyball in high school…?” 

Iwaizumi suspected that was the wrong answer when Ushijima only returned a blank stare, while Oikawa had turned back halfway to glare hotly at him over his shoulder. 

“I meant his work background.”

It really wasn’t shaping out to be Iwaizumi’s day. “I believe he had two years of retail experience before joining us.”

“Yes,” Ushijima said. “At the basement of Miyagi’s largest department store.” He sounded a little wistful, his gaze gaining a far-away look. 

“Oh. Okay.”

“He is a very good salesman,” Ushijima insisted, suddenly, gaze returning to stare intensely into Iwaizumi. Yes, into. Iwaizumi resisted the urge to shudder or look away.  

“I agree,” he said, in the moment forgetting who he was standing in front of. From the corner of his eye, he saw Oikawa’s head perk up in interest, although he continued to polish the perfume bottle he was holding, which, at this point, must have been polished so well it was probably transparent. “He has exceptional customer service skills, and is an incredibly hardworking member of staff. One of our very best.” 

Oikawa’s hand stilled on the bottle. Iwaizumi cringed internally. 

“That is to be expected of him,” came Ushijima’s reply. Which, okay. Who the hell was this guy? Iwaizumi couldn’t help the frown that pushed its way onto his face. Ushijima cast another forlorn look back at Oikawa, who turned determinedly away. “Let us move onto the next station, Iwaizumi-san.”

“Yes,” Iwaizumi hurried to agree. He brought Ushijima to the next section of the store, where Akaashi was showing an older gentleman how to apply moisturiser. The tour went on until the whole store had been covered, and when Iwaizumi’s lunch break finally came around, Ushijima politely excused himself and shut himself in the Manager’s office, declining Iwaizumi’s invitation to join in on the catered buffet. 

Iwaizumi finally let his shoulders relax. When he made his way over to the break room, he was met with a sudden, suspicious silence. He sighed, making his way over to get his lunch box.

“You can talk about him in front of me. I’m not going to snitch on you guys to corporate.”

“Oh, thank God,” Hanamaki said. “Oikawa was just telling all of us what a creep he is.”

Iwaizumi turned. “What?”

Matsukawa nodded solemnly. 

“He visited me weekly for three months straight!” Oikawa burst out. The rest of the break room were watching him in a way that signalled to Iwaizumi that this was not the first time he was restarting his story. “Which, fine, some of my other fans did that as well, but he always lingered around so awkwardly like he had no idea what to do. Or how to have a normal conversation with someone. And he’d poke around my display as well, always messing my bottles up wiping off invisible dust.” 

Oikawa’s face was scrunched up in anger. Cute, thought Iwaizumi, and then proceeded to mentally picture putting a gun to his head. 

“He was your customer?” Iwaizumi asked instead, gathering his things and sitting down at his usual seat beside Oikawa. Oikawa’s own lunch lay unfinished, more than half the plate filled with the desserts the buffet offered. 

“He was a poacher, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, dead serious. “He tried poaching me from the department store to work for his own line of superstores because I was–” He threw up obnoxious air-quotes, “–so good at making perfumes actually seem like a daily necessity, Oikawa-san, blech.” 

“So he was persistent?”

“And annoying. I quit my job because of him. And now he’s found me, here. I guess he must have left his job too, if he’s new to Blue Castle.”

“So fate brought the two of you together,” Matsukawa concluded. 

Hanamaki held both his pointer fingers up. “You’ve connected the dots.”

“I’ve connected the dots,” Matsukawa agreed.

“No,” Oikawa said, vehemently. “This is the universe testing me. Punishing me for something I must have done wrong.”

“But how could you ever do something wrong?” Hanamaki asked, monotonously. 

“You’re right, Makki.” Oikawa banged a hand on the table. “This is injustice, then!” 

“Okay, calm down, poser,” Iwaizumi said. “Creep or not, you shouldn’t have talked to him the way you did. You could have lost your job, and I wouldn’t have been able to stop it.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have been able to stop it,” Hanamaki mocked. He fell into Matsukawa. “Issei, catch me. I’m swooning.”

“He wouldn’t have fired me, silly Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, ignoring their antics. “He’s, like, obsessed with me.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. Ignored the sudden hard feeling in his stomach. “Yeah, whatever. But, still.”

“Oh, this is so romantic, Oikawa-san!” called Hinata from the other table. “Reunited by fate!” He had a mouth full of noodles, which he promptly began to choke on as Kageyama slapped him hard on the back.

“Idiot!” Kageyama barked. “Didn’t Oikawa-san say he was a creep?” Hinata’s eyes were red and watering. Kageyama ignored it. “Besides, Oikawa-san likes someone else!”

Matsukawa snickered. “He sure does.”

There was a sudden stab of pain in Iwaizumi’s chest. Which was. Concerning. Iwaizumi would have to get that checked. He turned his attention to the table, brown grains of cheap wood that would probably splinter and pierce skin if anyone ran a hand over it. Iwaizumi considered it, briefly.

“Mattsun!” Oikawa cried, and then proceeded to blink innocently when Matsukawa let out a sudden yelp, his arm going down to clutch at his leg. 

Iwaizumi opened his lunch box. Aromatic baked fish pilaf with cranberries and lemon. He had prepped it last night, and although he would have helped himself to the buffet, the memo from corporate had only come in this morning and it would have been such a pity if his homemade lunch were to go to waste. He had just taken his first bite when Oikawa leaned in.

“Iwa-chan,” he dragged out. “Your lunch looks so yummy today.”

“Piss off,” Iwaizumi said, spooning his next mouthful and tucking in. “You can’t have any of it.” 

Oikawa did this, sometimes. Shimmy closer and then pout at how delicious Iwaizumi’s food looked until Iwaizumi eventually caved and fed him some. Oikawa would close his eyes in delight and make unnecessary and unwanted comments like Iwa-chan, so salty! and More chilli flakes next time, Iwa-chan and You’re such a good cook, Iwa-chan. You should make me lunch too, someday.

Now, he was blinking his stupid doe eyes at Iwaizumi. Like that was going to work. Iwaizumi turned his gaze elsewhere. 

“Let’s make a deal, Iwa-chan.”

“No.”

“Rude.” Oikawa began arranging the food on his own plate. He had a little pile of yakisoba left with grilled pork, two slices of raspberry cake, and two cream puffs left. He slid a slice of the cake and a cream puff over next to the yakisoba. “A bite of your lunch for all of this.” He gestured at the yakisoba and half the dessert he had piled on his plate. “An unbeatable offer.”

Iwaizumi looked at the food. The yakisoba seemed the perfect amount of moist, and the raspberry jam glistened. Corporate had pulled out all the stops for their new Regional Manager. 

“Just a bite?” he asked, warily.

“Just one!” Oikawa nodded, his fringe bouncing softly with the movement. 

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” 

Iwaizumi considered it. Oikawa blinked at him. Stupid, stupid doe eyes. “Fine.”

“Yay!” Oikawa immediately pushed his plate over to Iwaizumi, and then sat there going ahhh with his mouth open. Like a fish. 

“What, I have to feed you too?”

“Don’t you always?” asked Hanamaki. Who was sitting opposite them at the table. Right. He and Matsukawa wore twin expressions of flat disbelief. 

Iwaizumi flushed. Cleared his throat. Gathered a bite of the pilaf and fish on his spoon anyway and fed it to Oikawa. 

Oikawa made a small sound of delight. “Such good use of citrus, Iwa-chan!” he complimented. 

Iwaizumi suddenly felt like he could go to the gym right now and beat his personal record on the squat rack. The heat on his face intensified.

“Whatever. Thanks.” Iwaizumi shovelled a bite of the yakisoba into his mouth to prevent himself from further speech. From saying I really appreciate it or, God forbid, I consider you and what I think you would enjoy to eat when I pack my lunches. Iwaizumi forked more yakisoba into his mouth.

Oikawa had already returned to complaining about Ushijima Wakatoshi and all his arrogance and that one god-awful purple suit he once wore to visit Oikawa at the department store. Iwaizumi ate the rest of his lunch in silence, his mood for some reason declining each time Oikawa mentioned Ushijima’s name.

–

Things went back to normal after his lunch break. Having concluded his tour of the store, Iwaizumi was free to get back to his usual duties while Ushijima wandered around on his own for further inspections and to get to know some of the employees a little better. Some, Iwaizumi would have expected, and yet Ushijima was lingering around a certain radius of the store, and had been talking to the same few employees the last thirty minutes.

“It’s a little pathetic,” Matsukawa commented, his cheek resting on his hand as he stared at Ushijima from the Customer Service counter, who was making conversation with Akaashi while sending quick furtive glances over at the perfume booth every twenty seconds. 

Iwaizumi continued counting coupons. He imagined it, being so desperate for Oikawa’s attention that he made it a point to visit him every week at his job, but being so taken aback by Oikawa’s magnetic personality that it rendered him speechless each time. Iwaizumi was stunned to realise he could relate, a little, to how Ushijima’s strong presence dwindled to that of a shy schoolboy around Oikawa. Iwaizumi remembered the way Oikawa’s lips had curved around the spoon, the sound of appreciation he had made. The way his eyes had grown round when the flavours had hit his tongue. Oikawa had a way of making people act like fools around him. 

Iwaizumi suddenly felt a strange sense of kinship with Ushijima Wakatoshi, though what Oikawa incited in himself probably wasn’t what he incited in Ushijima. Ushijima probably wanted to wine and dine Oikawa, probably wanted to take him out on cute dates and weekend trips to Tokyo. Probably wanted to bring him to nice cafes where he could watch Oikawa enjoy whatever overly sweet parfait he would probably order. Hold his hand, give him a kiss on the nose. 

Iwaizumi shuddered. They definitely weren’t the same.

“Oh he’s actually doing it, the mad lad,” Matsukawa said suddenly, head perking up. Iwaizumi turned to look. Ushijima was approaching Oikawa, who had just waved goodbye to a customer. Like a baby gazelle approaching a lion. It was a little painful to watch.

Iwaizumi watched anyway. From here, he had the perfect vantage point. He watched as Ushijima shuffled his feet, adjusted his tie. Walked up to the counter. Oikawa attempted to ignore him, even when Ushijima started talking. And talking. A small crowd gathered around the booth. He was still talking. Iwaizumi hadn’t spent that much time with him, but he was still surprised Ushijima had it in him to talk undeterred at the person he had been awkwardly pining for for months. 

Oikawa had to face him eventually, and he did, exasperatedly. They weren’t able to hear what Ushijima was saying all the way from the Customer Service counter, but from the reaction of the crowd, it seemed like Ushijima was declaring his undying love for Oikawa. There was a lady who had taken out her phone and was now filming them. A man looked two seconds away from crying. 

So did Oikawa, actually, who finally responded in a shrill voice that even Iwaizumi heard a little of, this far away. Or perhaps he was so used to hearing that voice that he imagined it. Whatever he had said, his outburst had stunned the crowd and Ushijima into silence. Ushijima mouthed one perfect syllable. Oh.

“Oh my god, who is it?” came the man who was, at this point, close to a breakdown, loud enough that Iwaizumi could have sworn the birds outside had flown away. And then all of a sudden, Iwaizumi was in the middle of making startling eye contact with Oikawa. It was a quick glance, like Oikawa hadn’t meant to look over at all. Had he realised they were watching the whole scene go down? Perhaps he felt embarrassed.

Iwaizumi was about to turn and tell Matsukawa to stop staring when he realised that Oikawa wasn’t the only one who had looked over. The whole crowd was now staring at him, and so was Ushijima.

Fuck. Iwaizumi immediately grabbed the stack of coupons he had put aside and leafed through them once again, attempting to look busy. “Stop looking, Matsukawa.”

“Takahiro’s going to love hearing about this,” was all he got in response. Iwaizumi paid him no mind, sparing a glance to see if the crowd was still looking at them. What he got instead was the view of Ushijima walking over.

“Fuck.” He began rooting through the counter drawers for a pen, a sticky note, Jesus, anything, that could make him look like he had actually been doing his job instead of watching his boss shoot his shot and fail, quite miserably.

“Iwaizumi-san.” Ushijima’s solemn voice was like the toll of the death bell. 

Iwaizumi braced himself for the swing of the executioner’s axe. “Yes, Ushijima-san?”

Ushijima gazed at him, the silence between them growing tenser and then tenser still as Ushijima stood ramrod straight in front of the counter. Iwaizumi’s hands started fidgeting. Perhaps Ushijima had not heard him. He cleared his throat and was about to repeat himself when Ushijima finally said, “I apologise.”

“Yes– what?”

“I apologise,” Ushijima repeated. “I admit, I have found myself victim to certain feelings of – fondness – for Oikawa-san.” Ushijima paused, then, eyeing Iwaizumi’s reaction. Iwaizumi continued staring at him blankly. “However, I was not aware of the relationship that has formed between the two of you. I apologise if I overstepped any boundaries today, both professional and personal.”

Iwaizumi blinked. Once, and then a little rapidly when he realised he hadn’t blinked in a while. “Uh.” What in the ever-loving fuck? “Oikawa and I – we’re not – we would never – him? Haha! No, no – no.” He gestured to Oikawa, who despite now handling a customer, was making quick glances over. “We’re not in a relationship. Why would we…? We don’t even know each other. I don’t even know his name.”

Ushijima frowned in confusion. “His name?” He, too, pointed at Oikawa. Oikawa had now stopped pretending he was in any way helping the nice old lady who just wanted to buy perfume, and was instead full-on staring. His eyes were so round. “His name is Oikawa Tooru.”

“No, yes, I know his name. I just meant–” Iwaizumi sighed. Tried to settle the uneven beats of his heart. It was really turning out to be a problem. “We’re not in a relationship. You are mistaken.”

“Oh,” Ushijima paused, considering. “If this is because you have failed to file the requisite forms informing corporate of the relationship, do not worry.” 

Iwaizumi was about to start choking. “Ushijima-san–”

“The two of you may fill out the forms tonight and email them to corporate by tomorrow morning. Now if you will excuse me.” Ushijima tugged on the bottom of his very expensive-looking suit jacket. “I believe I have some files I need to go through. In the Manager’s Office. Alone.” He stared intently at Iwaizumi. “Thank you.”

The second he had walked away and was out of earshot, Iwaizumi rounded on Matsukawa. 

“What was that? Oikawa and I in a relationship?” Iwaizumi’s face heated up at the thought. “Can you even imagine that, Matsukawa? Me and Oikawa? Together? I mean, not if he was the last man on Earth, am I right? With his hair and his legs and his Iwa-chans and his goofy ass laugh, I mean. I mean,” Iwaizumi looked at Matsukawa, disbelievingly. “That’s crazy, right?”

Matsukawa merely gazed at him. “Yikes.”

– December 23^rd  

“Ma’am, you can’t return that here.”

“Why not?”

Iwaizumi glanced down at the printer the lady was holding. It was grey, sleek, and had a huge dent in the middle where the lady must have driven her fist into it in anger. “It’s broken.”

“No it’s not.”

“Oh. Could you plug it in and turn it on to show me, then?”

“No I cannot.”

“That’s disappointing.”

The customer tapped her foot impatiently. She glared up at Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi waited it out. “I want to return it.”

“Sometimes, we want to do things we can’t do. It’s frustrating, I understand.”

“I want to speak to your Manager.”

“She’s not here.”

“Your Assistant Manager, then.”

Iwaizumi did a quick 360. “Hi, how may I help you?”

The lady let out a scream. She flung the printer onto the floor, shattering it into pieces. “Look! Look what you made me do! It’s broken because of you! It needs to be returned!”

Iwaizumi signalled to the store’s Security Guard just as Oikawa, on his way to the fragrance booth, stopped and inserted himself into the situation

“My, what’s going on here?” he asked, innocently sweet. 

“Your Assistant Manager just broke my printer, that’s what! He needs to pay for it!” The lady actually stomped her foot; Iwaizumi could have laughed if he wasn’t already so drained. 

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa mock scolded. His eyes were bright with mischief. “How could you do that to this nice lady’s perfectly good printer?”

Iwaizumi was about to open his mouth and defend himself when the lady responded, “No! It wasn’t a perfectly good printer! Not at all!”

“Oh, no!” Oikawa winked at Iwaizumi. “What was wrong with it?”

The lady turned her full attention to Oikawa. “It was slow! And it kept beeping when I tried connecting it to my son’s printer. I couldn’t take it anymore! I hit the damn thing and the paper got jammed so it was all stuck.”

“You hit it?”

“Yes,” the lady said, and then blinked, like a rabbit realising too late that it had walked into a trap. 

“I see,” the hunter responded. “So… Maybe the printer was already broken before you came to return it?”

The lady was about to kick up another fuss, Iwaizumi could tell, her shoulders tensing and the red in her face growing impossibly darker. He mentally braced himself for it, readying to step in the second she started hurling insults at Oikawa. 

Oikawa merely smiled disarmingly at her. Gave her the full treatment, dimple included. The lady gaped a little, and then quietly admitted, “I guess.”

“So maybe our mean Assistant Manager shouldn’t be blamed for breaking it?” he asked, gently.

“I guess,” again, reluctantly.

Oikawa put a soothing hand on her shoulder. He looked over her head at Iwaizumi and quietly mouthed, “I’ve got this.” Looking back at the lady, he suggested, “It’s been a tough day, I know. We have some new blushes that just came in, how about we take a look together and find something you like? Not that a lovely lady like yourself would really need one!”

She giggled, swatting him lightly as he led her away from Iwaizumi and toward the beauty counters. Iwaizumi breathed a sigh of relief. A break, he needed one. It had been another tough day, the daily hoard of customers increasing steadily the week before Christmas. It had been days of endless complaints, messes, and arguments which had Iwaizumi fully convinced that the person who had come up with the phrase, The customer is always right, must have been concussed when they thought of it. 

After cleaning up the broken mess of a printer, he headed to the break room to grab his coat, and then walked to the small lot behind the warehouse – a quiet area that the employees often went to whenever they needed a little break from the chaos of the store. 

The air was particularly biting as he opened the door to the lot. The sounds of Blue Castle – their Christmas playlist of free acoustic covers of the most popular holiday songs, at least three babies crying, and one person shouting – faded as the door closed. Here, the lot opened up to an unimpeded view of the sky, and Iwaizumi took in the view of the sun slowly setting, earlier in the day now that they were approaching the end of the year. The sky was awash in muted orange and purple, despite the distance carrying with it a field of grey clouds. A crow cooed. Iwaizumi felt his frazzled nerves start to soothe.

He stood there in silence for a while, watching his breath fog, disappear, fog, and then disappear into the cold air. His hands were growing numb, the cold seeping in as he stayed motionless. He stuffed them into his pockets. Fog, disappear. 

The door opened eventually. 

“Two more minutes,” Iwaizumi called out. He felt the stirring again, the reluctance to head back in when he had just found a few moments of peace, and the anxiousness in the counting down of the time he had left out here in the quiet.

The door closed. Silence, and then the warm press of someone next to him. Oikawa.

He had on a navy pea coat over his blue work vest. Its collar was in slight disarray, as if he had shoved it on hurriedly. In this light, his skin was golden and soft. His nose was already turning pink from the cold, his lips a little chapped. Next to Iwaizumi, he was turned toward the setting sun, the colours of the sky reflecting in his eyes. They stood in companionable silence for a little bit, watching the same sun dip its way further toward the horizon, past Iwaizumi’s deadline and until the street lamps had turned on.

Dusk was truly about to set in when Iwaizumi said, quietly, “Thanks, Oikawa.”

“It was no problem, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi felt a tug in his chest. Oikawa’s smile was a small thing.

“I’m good at that, remember?” Oikawa continued. “What was it you said? ‘Exceptional customer service skills’ or something like that.”

Iwaizumi let out a breath of amusement, past the quick flush of embarrassment. “I think you misheard.”

“Did I?” Oikawa chuckled softly, his gaze turning to meet Iwaizumi’s. Facing each other, Iwaizumi was treated to the stunning moment of watching a snowflake land itself lightly on the very tip of Oikawa’s nose, and melt. 

“Oh.” Fuck. 

“Oh,” echoed Oikawa. “It’s snowing.”

Fuck. 

“Uh-huh,” was all Iwaizumi could say. Hurtling, he was hurtling somewhere completely new and disorienting and his heart was suddenly beating like crazy and all of a sudden he realised that he, too, had walked into a trap Oikawa had laid out for him months ago; probably the moment they had first met, Oikawa sauntering into the store for the first time like he owned it, plucking the half-eaten Toblerone candy bar from Iwaizumi’s hands at lunch like he already knew Iwaizumi would inevitably give everything he had to him. 

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa cried suddenly. “My hair!” In total despair.

What the fuck? Him? 

Iwaizumi was going to throw up. Heart still jack-rabbiting in his chest, Iwaizumi hid the slight shake in his hands as he pulled out the beanie he had stuffed in his coat pocket and shoved it haphazardly onto Oikawa’s head. His hair was stupidly silky. 

“Here. Idiot.”

It was really beginning to snow. The grey clouds that had loomed ominously over the horizon had found its way to the the backlot of Blue Castle, and Iwaizumi found himself dusting off the light powder that had landed on Oikawa’s shoulders.

Oikawa stood silently, his gaze a hot thing Iwaizumi was valiantly avoiding. Instead of flinching back, he shouldered the sudden awkwardness of the situation, continuing to gently dust off Oikawa’s shoulders like he had meant to do it as a conscious action. He pulled back, finally, and when he couldn’t take it anymore, raised his eyes to Oikawa’s face.

The beanie was lopsided, but Oikawa, as usual, made it look endearing instead of ridiculous. He was blinking a little rapidly, and as Iwaizumi looked at him, his cheeks began to fill slowly with colour. 

“Um,” Oikawa said. He was looking at some place beyond Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Thank you, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi cleared his throat. “Right, yeah.”

Oikawa raised a hand and touched the beanie gently, as if in amazement. Iwaizumi needed to get out of here. 

“I should get back,” he said, already backing away and making his way to the door. “You can just keep it. Throw it. Burn it. I don’t care.” And then he was opening the door, and walking double time to the toilet. He passed Bokuto on the way, who raised his hand for a high-five. Iwaizumi slapped his hand a little too hard, if Bokuto’s cringe was anything to go by. 

In the toilet, he locked himself in the only available stall and immediately placed his head into his hands. He took a deep breath in, and then he let out a scream.

–

“So,” Iwaizumi said, attempting casual. He placed a holiday discount sticker on another jar of cranberry sauce. “Oikawa’s pretty cute, right?”

Kageyama blinked at him. “Um.”

“Like, objectively.”

“I guess so.” Kageyama placed the jar he was holding back onto the shelf. “He’s a little flirty, though.”

“Oh, yeah. His personality sucks,” Iwaizumi agreed instinctively.

Kageyama blinked again at him, his eyes a little soulless. Iwaizumi cleared his throat and got back to placing stickers.

–

“Iwaizumi-san,” Akaashi was cleaning makeup testers as Iwaizumi walked over. “The forecast’s pretty bad. We should ask corporate if we can close the store early.”

“Yes,” Iwaizumi said distractedly. “I’ll give them a call.”

Akaashi nodded in acknowledgement, returning to his task. He placed clean makeup brushes back into an acrylic holder, arranging them neatly so that the bristles weren’t touching. He then started wiping down the counter, disinfectant spray and cloth in hand, until they were free of fingerprints. 

He looked up at Iwaizumi. 

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi began. “He’s, like, passable-looking, right?”

“Oikawa-san is one of the most gorgeous men I have ever seen in my life,” Akaashi said. 

“Right.”

Akaashi turned away and started cleaning the vanity mirrors. Iwaizumi took the dismissal.

–

“So, Oikawa. Despite the personality, have you ever thought that he was, I don’t know, kinda pretty–”

Hanamaki burst out laughing. 

Iwaizumi walked away.

–

“It’s really snowing out there, boss,” Kuroo called out to him as he walked into the warehouse.

“I know, but corporate said we can’t close early.”

Kuroo let out a groan. “We’re going to be snowed in, at this point,” he said, shaking his head. 

Iwaizumi couldn’t disagree. He had seen the pileup outside as customers came and went. Some of the lights in the store had even started flickering. An employee had turned on the weather channel on one of the televisions they had in Electronics, which had called the weather a total disaster, the beginning of what was to be one of the worst blizzards the prefecture’s had in years.

Still, corporate had declined their request to head home before it got even worse.

Kuroo had gone back to organising product boxes on the shelves. 

“Hey, Kuroo,” Iwaizumi began. “Oikawa’s attractive, right?”

“Oikawa? Yeah, he is.” Kuroo pondered for a bit. “His eyes are a little too big though.”

Iwaizumi blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Like.” Kuroo made two circles with his hands. “They’re kinda too round, you know what I mean? Like a cow’s.”

Iwaizumi scoffed, the irritation in him suddenly spiking at the thought that anyone would find Oikawa’s eyes too anything, given that they were probably the closest thing to the perfect pair of eyes anybody could have. If anything, they were too pretty – his eyes brown like hot chocolate and his eyelashes so long they had cast shadows over his high cheekbones, even in the dim light of the backlot’s street lamps. 

“No, I don’t know what you mean, actually.” He tapped on a product box. “And get back to work already.” 

Iwaizumi left the warehouse, leaving behind a very confused Kuroo.

–

“Bad news, everybody.” Iwaizumi had gathered everyone in the break room for an emergency announcement. “The city’s called for a lockdown because of the blizzard. And since corporate didn’t allow us to close early…” Iwaizumi trailed off.

“Noooo!” Bokuto wailed. His hair flopped down sadly. “We have to spend a night in the store?”

A ruckus, immediately. Iwaizumi let them have it. It was like attempting to control a kindergarten class. Sometimes it was easier to just allow them to let it all out. Besides, Iwaizumi understood the despair. At least corporate had allowed them to take the day off tomorrow, calling in for help from the employees who weren’t scheduled today and even some back-ups from other stores.

Once they had gotten it out of their systems, the break room quietened down. Having reached the acceptance stage of grief, the staff of Blue Castle sat in silence as the reality of their situation slowly sunk in. 

Iwaizumi continued standing at the front of the room. Eventually, he said, “Most of the customers have already left. But there are a few who refused to leave, despite the urgency of the situation, so. We’ll be bunking in with them tonight.”

Hanamaki made a face of disgust. “Great.”

The depressed energy of the room was truly not a vibe. Iwaizumi felt a little bad, despite just being the bearer of bad news. They were only two days out from Christmas, after all. No one was expecting to spend such an extended period of time in their personal hell, their workplace, this close to the holiday. 

“How about we make this a little more interesting?” He suggested into the tepid atmosphere. “We could open some bottles of eggnog, lay out some blankets?” No response. “Oh, how about Secret Santa?”

“Secret Santa!” Hinata cheered, recovering from where he had slumped over the table. His one and only true fan. “That sounds fun!”

“How are we going to buy gifts for our Santee?” Akaashi asked.

“We are stuck in a superstore,” Iwaizumi said. “Pick whatever you want from here. I’ll close an eye.”

“Really?” Hinata, eyes wide with excitment.

“Yes, if it’s less than 1500 yen.”

“Oh.”

“What are the stakes?” Matsukawa asked.

“It’s Secret Santa, Mattsun. What do you mean, stakes?” Oikawa said.

“He means we should make this more fun,” Hanamaki said. “Like, set a deadline or something. Or if someone doesn’t like their present, they get to steal someone else’s.”

“Okay, we’re not doing that.” Iwaizumi could already imagine the chaos it would incite. “We could set a deadline though. An hour from now, how does that sound?”

Reluctant nods all around. Iwaizumi took a spare piece of paper from his clipboard and wrote all their names onto it, tearing it up and placing the pieces into an empty bowl from the pantry once he was done. He gave the pieces of paper a good mix. 

The grim mood slowly dissipated as employees gathered around to pick their names one by one. Bokuto let out a holler after reading the name he chose, running immediately to Kuroo to gossip in secret. There were careful glances as people took their names and went off to secret corners to open and read them. Kageyama and Hinata had run out of the break room immediately after choosing their names, challenging each other to find their gifts before the other. 

Iwaizumi chose last, and could have cried when he saw the one name he had chosen to write carefully, the kanji of Oikawa’s name neatly spaced instead of the rushed scribble he had given the others and himself. 

He swore quietly, eyes instinctively finding his target. Oikawa was talking to Yahaba, one of their Christmas hires, who seemed enthralled by whatever Oikawa was saying to him. The kid even had stars in his eyes. Iwaizumi had learned earlier that day that he could, sadly, relate. As he turned to look away, he met the gaze of Matsukawa, who simply raised an eyebrow at him.

Someone blared an air horn. Bokuto shouted into the shocked silence, “We have one hour, let’s go! Let’s go!”

“Where did he even get that?” Iwaizumi heard Oikawa asking. Their eyes met, in mutual amusement. They smiled at each other for a little while, before Iwaizumi realised he was smiling at what was probably the greatest cause of doom in his life, and he turned away abruptly.

An hour. Right. He could do it. Finding a gift for Oikawa would be easy. He liked so many things. Sweets, sparkly stuff, nerdy shit, and soft clothes like the beanie Iwaizumi had placed on his head. Iwaizumi was hit by the mental picture of Oikawa in some of his other clothes, the thick oversized sweaters Iwaizumi liked to wear when the weather got real cold. Perhaps it would fall off his shoulder. Iwaizumi’s knee buckled, slightly. 

“You good?” Matsukawa asked, when Iwaizumi shot a hand out to stable himself on the back of a chair. 

“I’m so good,” Iwaizumi said.

–

Turns out, he was not good. Very much not good, actually. He was, actually, having the worst day of his life. 

What kind of karma must he be reaping, to be the victim of a sudden realisation of – choke – emotional, romantic feelings for a man who once held a mini-concert in store after his shift with his super fans, singing bad renditions of Celine Dion’s greatest hits on the karaoke box set the store – no longer – sold. And, to draw his name for Secret Santa on the same day. 

Blue Castle sold everything a person could ever need from birth to death, with the exception of caskets. In theory, finding a gift for Oikawa should have been easy. Yet Iwaizumi was standing in between two aisles of Christmas presents for all ages, and he was stumped. Would Oikawa appreciate a teapot in the shape of Santa Claus? Would he like reindeer-printed woolly socks? Iwaizumi had no clue. Oikawa came into work dressed like he was a Burberry model, all pressed shirts and slacks that elongated his giraffe legs. Oikawa deserved much more than everything the store sold.

Iwaizumi sighed. He took a knitted sweater off the rack. It was bright red and had Santa Claus riding a dinosaur on the front of it. Iwaizumi pressed the button along its tag. The sweater lit up, flashing gaudily in reds and greens.

“So. Oikawa.” Matsukawa sidled up to him. 

“I have no idea what to get him,” Iwaizumi said.

“Oh. No, I meant your big fat crush on him.”

Iwaizumi whirled around to face him and his smirking face. “Who told you that?”

“Takahiro,” Matsukawa admitted. “But he didn’t really have to tell me.”

Iwaizumi groaned. Had it been that obvious? This whole time? 

“Yes.”

Iwaizumi hadn’t realised he had said that out loud. “That’s great,” he mumbled. 

“What’s wrong?” Hanamaki entered the chat.

“He’s pining over Oikawa.”

“I’m not pining over Oika–”

“What’s new?” Hanamaki plucked the sweater out of Iwaizumi’s hands and held it up to his own frame. It clashed horribly with his hair.

“No, he’s pining with self-awareness this time.”

“Oh!” Hanamaki clapped Iwaizumi on the back. “Right. Good on you, man. Finally.”

“If you guys aren’t going to help me, could you leave?”

“Help you with what?” Hanamaki asked.

“He doesn’t know what to get Oikawa.”

“That’s stupid. Just get him one of those dumb shirts with aliens on them.”

“I’m not doing that.” 

“Why not?” Matsukawa had grabbed a matching sweater. The lights from their sweaters blinked in unison.

“He deserves more than that.” Iwaizumi was going crazy. He had forty minutes left. He could spend the next five years in the store and still not find something suitable. “But I can’t not get him anything.”

“Who said you had to get him anything?” Matsukawa asked. “Just kiss him or something.”

“Great idea! Kiss me, Issei!” Hanamaki grabbed Matsukawa’s face in his hands and leaned in. 

Iwaizumi let it happen, the two of them fake-kissing until Matsukawa was dipping Hanamaki and they were on the verge of falling into a heap on the ground. They had a point, though. Iwaizumi supposed he didn’t actually need to buy something for Oikawa’s gift. Maybe he could learn how to crochet within the next half an hour. A handmade pair of mittens or something, since Oikawa’s hands were always so cold. Iwaizumi cringed. He had learnt how to knit, once, and it had turned into a total disaster. His mother still had the scarf though, despite the uneven stitches.

There was a sudden clatter on the floor. The two idiots had finally fallen. The cords on their sweaters had tangled, resulting in a mess of limbs and wires on the floor. 

“Ow,” Hanamaki said. 

Iwaizumi was struck, suddenly, by an idea, as he watched Matsukawa and Hanamaki slowly untangle themselves. He walked away, checking his watch as he did so. Thirty-seven minutes. He would need to hurry.

He knew what he had to do. 

–

They gathered at the furniture display. Someone had already arranged the sofas and armchairs so that everybody could sit comfortably in a circle. There was even a little mock fire floor lamp in the middle. Outside, the wind howled, the glass windows of the store rattling just a little. The sun had set long ago, and someone had turned off most of the store’s fluorescent lights. It was pretty nice, all things considered.

People started settling down slowly, choosing their seats. Everybody had presents with them, Iwaizumi noticed, either slotted into gift bags or placed into gift boxes. He was the only one empty-handed.

Oikawa sat down beside him. He was still in his stiff shirt and pants. Iwaizumi himself had shed his Blue Castle polo and slacks for the cosiest sweatpants and sleep shirt the store had to offer. He passed the identical set he had, with foresight, filched for Oikawa over to him. “Here.”

“Why, thank you, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa. “Are you my Secret Santa or something?”

“You wish.”

Bokuto, having taken the lead in their impromptu Secret Santa exchange, stood up from his seat on a nearby sofa. He, too, had changed out of his work clothes, donning a matching gingerbread man set with Kuroo. 

“As head of the Secret Santa committee, I will now lay down the rules.”

Hinata stood up to pass him a sheet of paper. Bokuto opened it and read, “One, you may not exchange your gift, no matter how ugly, with anyone else. Two, we shall start by spinning this bottle here–”

Hinata held up an empty Coke bottle for everyone to see. 

“–and whoever it lands on has to pass their gift to their Santee.” Bokuto clapped once. “Let the first Blue Castle Secret Santa exchange begin!”

He gave the bottle a spin. Iwaizumi was, strangely, nervous. The bottle spun past him and landed on a man sitting on the floor, who stood up abruptly, right at the edge of their group. He was a guy around Iwaizumi’s age, with round-framed glasses and a thick cable-knit sweater.

“Who the fuck are you?” Hanamaki asked.

The man said, “Shouta.”

Hanamaki looked around in confusion. No one moved. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Um,” said Shouta. He adjusted the frames of his glasses. “I’m a customer. I saw you guys gathering around here so I thought would just join in?”

They all stared at him.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Hanamaki said eventually.

Shouta turned and left with a wounded expression.

Hanamaki spun the bottle in his place. After a few dreadful revolutions, the bottle slowed and seemed like it was about to land on Iwaizumi, who sat tense with nerves. When it landed on Kuroo instead, he breathed a sigh of relief. 

Kuroo stood up to some cheers and passed a wrapped gift to one of their part-time employees, Rini-chan. She lit up when she unwrapped the gift, unveiling the nicest under-1500-yen box of chocolates the store offered. 

“I’ve seen you sneak a few of these,” Kuroo remarked.

“I love them! Thank you, Kuroo-san!” Rini said, opening the box immediately and stuffing a few in her mouth. The employees all cheered as a result of the first successful exchange. Kuroo gave the bottle a spin before he took his place next to Bokuto.

The exchange went on, the gifts all surprisingly thoughtful and well-received, despite the challenge of only having an hour to find them. Himari-chan had bought Kageyama a couple of the new protein bars the store had just brought in. Oikawa had given Hinata a water bottle, because he had lost his the previous week. Bokuto had blushed when he passed his gift to Akaashi – the latest volume of the manga Akaashi had been talking about for months. Iwaizumi himself had received a new sports compression shirt from Kageyama, who had flushed a little, when Iwaizumi had smiled at him in thanks. 

By the end of it, Iwaizumi was one of two people who had yet to give their presents. Akaashi had suggested a round of rock, paper, scissors instead, since there were only two Santas left. Facing Hinata, Iwaizumi felt, again, a nervousness that was beginning to choke him. Any second now, he was about to vibrate off the edge of his seat and burst out screaming that it was Oikawa, you’re my Santee and I think you’re kinda pretty when you’re not annoying but even when you’re annoying you’re also kind of delightful and I hate you, actually, except that I’m beginning to realise that I don’t!

Hinata won. With a crow of delight, he bounced up on his feet and passed his gift to Matsukawa. It was a grey graphic t-shirt, fashionably stretched and oversized, the kind that Matsukawa loved. He gave Hinata a little head rub, who smiled in delight at the affection.

It was finally Iwaizumi’s turn. He very carefully avoided looking at Oikawa, who seemed to be very carefully avoiding looking at him, too. He stood, to a round of hollers from the rest of the group. 

“Uh.” He wrung his hands, a little sweaty from nerves. He had no wrapped gift box, no cute Christmas paper bag, he knew. His empty hands elicited some curious stares. Matsukawa and Hanamaki wore twin smirks on their faces. He turned to Oikawa, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that he couldn’t just do this here, with the rest of their colleagues watching. There was no way to shoulder their reactions to his gift without outright quitting. 

He asked, “Could you come with me please?”

Oikawa blinked at him. “Sure, Iwa-chan.”

The hollers got louder as Oikawa stood and Iwaizumi led him to a spot a few aisles down, where they could be alone. 

Iwaizumi looked at him. Oikawa looked weirdly nervous, in the middle of the Nerf gun aisles, his fingers twisting around themselves, and his eyes at a spot between Iwaizumi’s brows. 

“What are you going to do, Iwa-chan, kiss me?” Oikawa asked into the strange silence, his voice quavering a little.

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi said. He was a confident man, he knew. Never in his life had he experienced the gut-churning roils that were now ploughing their way through his chest. He had to do this and be done with it, quickly.  “Just, stay here.”

Iwaizumi walked away without looking back at Oikawa’s reaction, although he could picture it vividly in his head: affronted shock and wide-set eyes. He made his way to the back of the store, where he had set up everything, and where the main switches were. 

He took a breath in. This was ridiculous. It’s not like he was serving his heart on a platter to Oikawa. There was no need to be nervous. He was making this a way bigger deal than it really was. 

He switched off the lights.

The store was dark for a second, and then lit, again, by the rows and rows of Christmas lights that Iwaizumi had spent thirty minutes unravelling, lining, and weaving around the store. He had nearly bumped into Oikawa a few times, which had required him to sneak around a little, but he imagined that the surprise was worth it. 

A smattering of “ooooh’s” from the group, as the store glowed in reds, greens, blues, purples, and yellows. Iwaizumi gave himself a little pat on the back. He had worried it wouldn’t turn out well, considering the fact he couldn’t very well have tested it out with Oikawa still in the store, but the store was completely transformed under the lights, the textbook depiction of a warm, cozy Winter Wonderland. 

He hurried back to where he left Oikawa. If a sunset had made Oikawa look incandescent, what would he look like, under these lights?

The answer was: breathtaking. When Iwaizumi reached him, Oikawa was still looking around him in wonderment. His beauty under the glow was arresting. Iwaizumi had never felt anything like this, like his chest was so full it could burst, like he had to scream to let it all out, and then scream even more. 

“I know it’s not Christmas yet, but,” Iwaizumi started. Oikawa turned to look at him, the shock still on his face. “We’re stuck in here and it’s a pity that you can’t be outside to celebrate, so. I thought I would bring the outside to you.” He pulled out the candy bar from his pocket. “Merry Christmas, Oikawa.”

“Toblerone,” Oikawa said. He took the candy bar from Iwaizumi, staring at it in awe. “Like that first day.” He said this in amazement, turning his eyes to Iwaizumi. The lights made his big cow eyes shine, glisten like he was staring at the stars instead of standing in the middle of a retail store. He was looking at Iwaizumi like he was a greater sight than all that surrounded him. Like he wouldn’t have been able to look away, even if he wanted to. “Thank you, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi’s heart skipped, fell, launched itself into a stuttering rhythm. Oikawa’s blush had spread to his ears. He was looking at Iwaizumi through his eyelashes. When did he get so close? Iwaizumi opened his mouth to say something, anything, and found that he couldn’t. 

“Oikawa, I–”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, voice suddenly serious. “Would I lose my job if I kissed my superior?”

“W-what?” Iwaizumi stuttered out.

“Oh, I forgot.” Oikawa curled a hand around Iwaizumi’s nape, the other he placed firmly on Iwaizumi’s chest. His hand was startlingly hot, searing despite the intrusion of Iwaizumi’s sweatshirt. He leaned in close. Iwaizumi watched the lights blink all around them in his eyes. “My Assistant Manager’s got a soft spot for me.”

And then they were kissing, an inevitable motion. Oikawa’s soft plush lips on his own in a perfect fit. Iwaizumi wrapped his hands around Oikawa’s slim waist, pulling him in closer and then closer, still. All around him was Oikawa. The smell of him, the starch of his shirt beneath his fingertips, the taste of his mouth when the kiss grew deep. Iwaizumi couldn’t get enough. He pushed Oikawa until his back hit the shelf, crowding against him and swallowing the small sound Oikawa made. A shiver ran through him.  

He was such an idiot. He could have had this months ago, if the way Oikawa acted around him was any indication. He made up for their lost time now, his hands gripping hard on Oikawa’s waist as he gave everything he had to this moment, their first kiss, and then their next. Iwaizumi’s hands found skin when he rucked up the shirt around Oikawa’s waist, fingers on the warm, intimate patch that was Oikawa’s lower back.

Oikawa gasped. Except it was not Oikawa, because Oikawa’s lips were still against his own, and yet, somehow he was also exclaiming.

Iwaizumi pulled back.

Bokuto was staring at them, wide-eyed and slacked-jaw. “Oh, shit.” And then he was off, yelling across the store, “Kurooooo!”

Iwaizumi turned to look at Oikawa, who was already looking at him. Lips swollen and eyes glazed, it took Iwaizumi three full, steadying breaths to pull himself completely away from him. 

That had just happened. They had kissed, the fact of it so mind-blowing that Iwaizumi felt he needed the rest of the year to recover. Oikawa’s hair was mused – Iwaizumi had done that. Oikawa’s hands were trembling slightly – Iwaizumi had done that. This was the man who pushed his limits, who sidled up to him and mocked him, and this was the man who had taken an extra portion of food from a once-in-a-lifetime buffet and saved it for him because he knew Iwaizumi never failed to pack his own lunch. Iwaizumi’s world was tilting. 

Oikawa smiled at him, sweet in the aftershock. Iwaizumi gave into temptation and carded his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, pushing his bangs gently back from where it had fallen into his eye. 

“We should get back,” he said eventually. Oikawa nodded. One, two, five more stolen seconds, and then Iwaizumi was releasing him. 

They made their way back with their fingers interlaced.

–

Later, as they laid in matching pyjamas on the air mattress Iwaizumi had blown up for the two of them, Iwaizumi leaned in and pressed a kiss onto Oikawa’s lips.

Oikawa flushed, slowly under the Christmas lights they had decided to leave on. He cupped Iwaizumi’s cheek tenderly. “You know, if you keep doing that, I’m going to start thinking you actually like me, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi smiled into his palm. “Maybe I do.”

– January 5^th  

“Attention all shoppers.” Oikawa’s voice rang out through the store. “Celebrate the new year with Blue Castle by enjoying a five percent discount off all electronic products and homeware! Also enjoy the lovely view of my boyfriend, the new Manager of the store, who is looking very delicious in his suit and tie today, I think. But don’t enjoy the view too much, or I will find you and actually kil– ”

Iwaizumi picked up the store phone on his way to check out the new sofa displays and connected to the intercom. “Shut up and get back to work, Lazykawa.”

Oikawa gasped. They locked eyes, Oikawa over at the Customer Service counter, probably annoying Matsukawa with whatever mindless gossip he had in him today. Iwaizumi had to bite back a smile. “Notice, folks, the way he speaks to me. You’re lucky you’re so handsome, Iwa-chan, or I would never have let you do what you did last night, with the–”

“Okay!” A couple of customers had stopped to stare at him. Iwaizumi waved a casual hand at them all. “Let’s not talk about that here.”

“No, let’s talk about that here,” Matsukawa chimed in. God damn it. “What did Iwaizumi do to you last night, Oikawa-san?”

“That’s none of your business, Matsukawa,” Iwaizumi said. More stares. A lady was covering her child’s ears, a scandalised expression on her face. A blush was growing. Iwaizumi struggled to relax his shoulders from where they had almost reached his ears.

“Considering I am part of the reason you finally got your head out of your ass and kissed him, Iwaizumi, I think it is very much my business.” Matsukawa aimed a shit-eating grin right at him. 

“I– ”

“May all Blue Castle employees stop airing their dirty laundry on the store intercom and get back to work, please,” Akaashi said, over the system. 

Iwaizumi hung up the phone.