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a-spectacle-in-the-morning · 4 years

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“A Whole Lot Left to Lose” -- Rafael Barba

Summary: You slept over at Barba’s place after turning up the night before embarrassingly drunk. Now you have to deal with waking up in his bed, further workplace awkwardness, and serious arguments about coffee.

Notes: Follow up for this, which is a follow up for this. I’m still unwilling to admit this is becoming a series even though it definitely is turning into one. Catch me on the sixth part saying “a follow up for this, which is a follow up for this, which is a follow up for this…”

And sorry my posting has been so sporadic. School and life caught up to me and I had a nasty case of writer’s block.

You awake to mid-morning sunlight and unsettlingly soft sheets. For a sweet second your brain idles, still half asleep, and you relish in the softness of your unknown surroundings. Then your thoughts snap into focus. You’re in Barba’s bedroom, curled up in Barba’s bed, absolutely tangled in Barba’s sheets. And you’re still in last night's clothes. Incredible. Nothing adds to waking up with an increasingly pounding headache like remembering how you made an idiot of yourself in front of the guy you’re catching feelings for.

The analog alarm clock on the nightstand reads around 9:30 and you let out a sigh of relief. You’re not scheduled to go into work until noon, and for a brief moment you consider trying to apologize to Barba before you leave. But then a vague memory of stumbling through his living room and spinning like a toddler unexpectedly comes back to you. Sneaking out without confrontation is clearly the only option.

The door to the room is slightly ajar and you lay silently for a second to listen for sounds of movement. All you hear are the faint sounds of morning traffic, so you force yourself out of Barba’s bed. You spot an acoustic guitar resting on a stand as you tiptoe across the floor. If you ever shake off the embarrassment of this whole ordeal you’ll have to ask him about it.

When you get to the living room you find the couch oddly empty. You had assumed after Barba had given you the bed he would have slept out here. Curiosity outweighs caution, and you wander in search of his office. He said he had a lot of work to do last night, you had just assumed he would’ve been finished by now. There’s light coming from underneath a door near the front foyer and you risk cracking it open to peek inside.

Assistant District Attorney Rafael Barba, who you’re accustomed to witnessing completely decimate opposition in the courtroom while wearing stupidly expensive three piece suits, is asleep at his desk. An array of paperwork is splayed out beneath his head. You have a weird urge to step fully into his office to place a chaste kiss on his forehead or maybe wrap a blanket around his shoulders. You’ve clearly been watching too many rom-coms. Instead you just take a few more seconds to appreciate the sight in front of you then gently shut the door.

When you get home you are instantly happy for the familiarity, but the couple of hours before your shift are not as relaxing as you’d hoped they would be. You try to catch a few more hours of sleep, but your bed doesn’t seem as comfortable as it usually is. You try to mindlessly watch something on your phone, but you keep checking to see if Barba has texted you. By the time you finally settle, make yourself a box of mac and cheese, and finish eating it’s time to head into work.

If there were to be an action figure for Barba it would come with about twenty pairs of suspenders and some form of a cup of coffee. Possibly a white mug, like the ones he uses with the machine in his office, or something disposable from a local coffee shop. Either way there is no way his favorite caffeinated drink would be in the kind of over-sized thermos you used to take to class with you in college. Bizarrely, that’s exactly what Barba’s currently carrying with him as he makes his way towards Liv’s office.

Instead of striding past your desk like he usually does, Barba slows before fully passing you and stops. The hairs on the back of your neck raise and suddenly his hand is flat on your back; right between your shoulder blades. His fingers press just a bit deeper into your back and you realize that he’s leaning over you to place something on your desk. The thermos that caught your eye just a few seconds ago now sits between your computer and a newton’s cradle your dad got you as a graduation gift.

Before you can look over at him or turn or even say thank you Barba’s hand is sliding off of you. His middle finger traces a line from the center of your back just below your neck, all the way off your shoulder. Intentionally or not the action sends goosebumps down your entire arm. You don’t realize you were holding your breath until you hear Liv’s office door shut and you let out a massive sigh.

The world around you returns to focus. God, when did it get so out of focus? And you immediately wish you were anywhere in the world than at your own desk. Carisi has the most dumbstruck look you’ve ever seen. You’re afraid his jaw might drop off if it dangles that low for much longer. And when you try to avert your gaze elsewhere you land on Amanda’s devilish grin. The two of you aren’t amazingly close, but you’ve gotten a few drinks together and without even telling her she’d picked up on the tension between you and Barba. You’d told her that even if he was into you you weren’t ready to dive into a relationship with him. He was a lot and you were busy.

But now Barba had walked straight up to your desk, touched you intimately enough, and handed you coffee like he knew you hadn’t slept well. Like he was the reason you hadn’t slept well. That’s what every other member of the SVU seemed to be thinking, at least. Except for Fin who looked to actually be falling asleep at his desk.You can’t blame him. You certainly could use a bit of unconsciousness yourself right now.

It’s nearing five and your thoughts are churning in your head. A massive storm is sloshing around up there and leaving you with absolutely no energy. You’re one of the last ones left; Sonny and Amanda having left for dinner about an hour ago. Fin packed up shortly before them and Liv shortly after him. Normally you would’ve finished your work before everyone else. Tonight the paperwork is taking twice as long to get through as normal. You want to blame it on your hangover, but the headache is nothing compared to the onslaught of distracting thoughts about Barba.

After reading each sentence you’re bombarded with an even lengthier montage of the ADA. You’re just getting the image of him in pajamas out of your brain when you remember the weight of his hand on your shoulder this morning. At this rate the thirty pages you have left to get through are going to take hours.

You would throw it in for the night and head home, but you’re afraid the distracting thoughts will get worse. And probably more graphic. With your focus completely shot and a whole lot left to lose you decide to head over to One Hogan Place. You make sure to grab the thermos before you leave.

“What the hell were you thinking Barba?” you remain surprisingly monotone as you practically slam the thermos onto his desk.

Barba sits looking at you wide eyed for just a second before a little sly grin ghosts his face. You’d rushed over from the SVU, making sure to get here before Barba left. Your face is probably flushed from the cold and the slight jog you just did. The jog also got you a bit worked up, hence the aggressive placement of the thermos.

“That you would be hungover and need a pick me up?” Barba offers.

“You can’t do this kind of shit. People talk.”

Barba remains seated behind his desk with the smuggest look. He isn’t responding. Why isn’t he responding? He always has the wittiest comebacks and he’s just sitting there looking at you. You take a chance and make your way around to stand next to him. He doesn’t rise from his seat, but he swivels in his chair to face you.

“You don’t want them thinking we’re something we’re not, right?”

Barba laces his fingers together in his lap and leans back in his chair. “Let me make sure I have this right: you want me to be… meaner to you?”

“No, you-” you squint down at him. “Will you just shut up for a second?”

Barba’s smile grows, but he stays quiet.

“I couldn’t think straight because of you. Do you know how frustrating that is?”

“I think I have an idea-”

“Hey! I said zip it, counselor. You don’t have an idea. No idea. Because every five minutes it was back to you up here,” you tap at your temple for emphasis. “And then I’m finally focused enough to read a sentence or two in the unholy stack of paperwork in front of me, I glance up, and this,” you hold out both of your hands, palms upwards, and direct his gaze at the thermos, “this is sitting there.”

Barba’s smile has dropped. It’s been replaced by something unreadable. Wonder? Amusement? Confusion? Maybe a bit of annoyance? You can’t quite place it and it’s incredibly frustrating.

You let out a deep sigh and turn to lean against his desk. “Sorry. I’m not usually like this. I don’t make these grand” you wave your arms around, “whatever the hell this is…”

Barba stands and moves to wait in front of you, but remains silent.

“Sorry for busting in here and verbally attacking you,” you shrug. “And for dumping this on you. And for probably making this uncomfortable. You know what? Maybe I should just leave and we can forget about all of this. Go back to whatever bizarre, semi-flirty thing we had going on before.”

Barba clears his throat, putting his hands into his jacket pockets. “Are you finished?”

You nod.

“Can I speak now?”

You roll your eyes, but nod again.

Instead of making a counterargument he takes his hands back out of his pocket and steps closer to you. Then his hands are on either side of your hips pressing into the wood of his desk. Maybe this is his counterargument: being this close to him is otherworldly. Everything comes down to the green of his eyes and then his lips are on yours. Before you have more than a second to process what’s happening he’s pulled away again.

He pats his desk once then steps back. “I think I have an idea.”

If you had asked yourself this morning, with your pounding headache and mountains of overwhelming embarrassment, how your day would end, kissing Rafael Barba would be the last thing you would’ve guessed.

You stare at him for a few seconds, unable to breathe, then awkwardly say, “Sorry for making you sleep at your desk last night.”

Barba lets out a sheepish laugh. “You saw that, huh?”

“Happen often?” you glance over at the coffee machine, already knowing the answer.

“More than I’d like to admit.”

There’s a beat of silence. You glance up at the framed Harvard Law degree that you noticed on the first day you met him. Still ostentatious.

“How about you make up for those drinks you owe me by taking me out to dinner?”

“Oh, so the coffee counts for nothing?” Barba jabs.

You reach out, emboldened by the kiss, and straighten out the lapel of his jacket. “Coffee is its own thing, Barba. This is about whiskey.”

“Ah, I see,” his gaze follows your hand as it drops from his chest. “It might take more than one dinner to make up for the tab you racked up last night.”

You squint at him, stepping away from his desk and towards the door. “If you’re gonna be a dick about it I’ll ask Carisi instead.”

Barba pushes his chair in and starts packing up his things. “Just give me a minute. Where do you want to go?”

I know I said there would be some smut with my next Barba fic, but I really wanted to continue this story and these two ain’t ready for it yet. It was enough work to get them to kiss, goddamn it. I’m thinking of continuing with at least one more part though, so high probability of smut adjacent stuff soon!

And apologies for the growing fixation on coffee in my fics. I’m not a huge caffeine addict, but I’ve recently been really missing my favorite coffee shop in one of the libraries on my campus. I can still remember the last dark roast I got days before classes were moved online…

#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba fanfiction #law and order: svu fanfiction #rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba imagine #law and order: special victims unit fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #rafael barba #law and order: svu

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everbrilliantheartbreaker · 7 years

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I realize it's been approximately 400 years since I've posted a fic (ok only like, 10 months, but still) but I'm back in Haikyuu hell and have a lot of things planned, so we'll see how far I get. Also this is the most self indulgent garbage I've ever written in my entire life, and is based off of this comic which is a bonus to this comic and also came about because I recently found out that one of my friends from high school became a massage therapist. I did as much research and made everything as accurate as I could, so hopefully everything is ok ^^u Also under a read more cause this trash is 9 pages long sheesh.

When Sugawara's regular massage therapist calls out sick, he finds himself instead in the care of a man named Daichi Sawamura. The two bond over a shared love of volleyball, but can their fledgling friendship survive the drama that happens off the court?

Touch Me

|chapter 1| In the palm of yours hands

Sugawara pushed open the door to the Karasuno Day Spa and inhaled deeply. The spa always smelled faintly of perfume and there were small fountains running on either side of the reception desk. Simply walking into the lobby was enough to relax him. His weekly sports massage definitely helped as well.

He approached the front desk to check in, making idle chatter with the young girl who had just started as the receptionist a few days ago.

“I’m here to see Shimizu-san again.”

The girl thumbed through a planner, but before she could confirm whether or not Suga’s regular therapist was done with her previous appointment someone else spoke up.

“You’re Sugawara Koshi-san?”

He jumped at the sound of his name, startled by the sudden appearance of a young man from the hallway to the right of the reception desk. At first glance he was rather plain and unassuming; but the more Suga looked at him the more he thought that he was handsome in a rugged sort of way. Then they made eye contact and Suga felt a jolt go down his spine.

The other man was smiling at him politely, but his eyes gave Suga the feeling that he could see right through him, that he was reading his mind and knew all his secrets. It was an unsettling feeling.

Suga realized abruptly that the man was still waiting for an answer to his question and felt his face flush. “Um, yes, that’s me.”

The man flashed him an apologetic smile. “Shimizu called out this morning. I guess she came down with a bad case of food poisoning last night.”

“That’s awful.”

The man glanced at the girl behind the desk. “Yachi-chan called as many of Shimizu’s appointments as she could to let them know so they could reschedule, but I don’t think she was able to find your number. Sorry about that.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine-“ Suga began, but was cut off by Yachi slamming her head down on the desk.

“It’s all my fault! I was sorting papers yesterday and I must have lost it! And now I’ve totally inconvenienced you by not calling about your cancelled appointment and then I couldn’t even remember that Shimizu-senpai had called out. Please forgive meee.”

Suga was taken aback by her outburst, while her colleague just looked faintly amused.

“I-it’s not a big deal, Yachi-san.” Suga insisted. “I’ll just come back later this week.”

“Um, well actually,” the other man cut in. “I’ve been covering any clients of Shimizu’s that didn’t want to reschedule, so if you’d still rather do it today…just a sports massage, right?”

“Uhh, right.”

Suga readjusted the strap of his school bag and debated the pros and cons of trying to reschedule, when he didn’t even know how soon Shimizu would be back, versus getting a massage from a complete stranger; and a man at that. But he had really been looking forward to it this week…

“Sure, why not.” He shrugged, trying to sound casual and not like his anxiety was kicking into overdrive over something so silly.

“Great.” The other man turned to lead the way, smiling at him over his shoulder. “I’m Sawamura Daichi, by the way.”

Suga found himself faltering again under those piercing eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you.” he managed.

They passed a few closed doors, one of which Suga recognized as Shimizu’s room, and then Sawamura stopped.

“This is my room. Go ahead and get ready and I’ll be in in a few minutes.”

“Mm.”

Sawamura disappeared down the hall back towards the front desk.

Suga continued to the end of the hall and pushed open the very last door. A set of frosted glass half walls hid the interior of the room – the men’s dressing room – from anyone standing in the doorway. He ducked around the glass and went to the far end of the room, undressing quickly and putting on one of the soft white robes hanging on a rack in the middle of the room. He folded his clothes neatly and lay them on his bag in one of the lockers against the back wall.

He padded quickly back down the quiet hallway and halted in front of the door Sawamura had indicated earlier, taking a deep breath. ‘Too late to back out now.’ He ducked into the room and shut the door behind him, taking a moment to take in the room’s interior. He had complimented Shimizu once on her room’s tasteful décor, and she had mentioned in return that every therapist had their own set up. Suga found himself curious about Sawamura’s taste in décor.

The room was clean and understated, much like Shimizu’s; but in place of the long mirrors and simple paintings of birds and flowers were a few potted plants and some curious metal wall hangings that resembled vines. There was also a rather large watercolor painting hanging across from them; a huge splash of black that gradually turned into a flock of birds. A few small cabinets, a chair, and a sink made up the rest of it. All in all, Suga realized it pretty much matched his first impression of Sawamura: simple at first glance, but with a touch of mystery and the potential for drama.

A brief knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts. “Sugawara-san?”

A jolt of panic shot through him. “Um, one second!”

He scrambled to remove the robe and hang it semi-neatly on a hook beneath the watercolor before hastily laying down on the padded table in the middle of the room. He carefully positioned the large black towel that had been hanging off the end of the table over his waist and legs before burying his burning face in his arms.

“Um, ready.”

The door opened softly behind him and Suga did his best to rein in his quick breathing. ‘Good grief, could you maybe calm down just a little bit?’ he scolded himself. ‘It’s not like he’s the first guy to see you pretty much naked. You strip in front of the guys at practice all the time. And if you can get over a GIRL seeing you like this and putting her hands all over you, this should be a piece of cake.’ He risked peeking over his arms and watched Sawamura open one of the cabinets and take out a small bottle. Suga found himself idly wondering what kind of oil he used; Shimizu’s lightly smelled of flowers. ‘Just like her.’ he thought with a small smile. ‘Beautiful and serene in every respect.’

Sawamura’s voice made him jump again.

“So I usually just turn on some real quiet instrumental music in the background, but if you prefer I can also turn on the radio. Or we can talk, OR we can just enjoy the silence. Whichever you prefer.”

“Um.” Suga responded eloquently, and grimaced. ‘You’ve “um”’d like every other sentence since he first spoke to you. He must think you’re a complete idiot.’ “It doesn’t matter to me.” In an attempt to appear slightly more skilled at holding a conversation than he currently was, he added, “Shimizu turns on music, too, but we always just end up talking over it.”

“We’ll just do that then.” Sawamura turned a dial on a cd player sitting atop one of the cabinets and the soft sounds of a violin filled the room. He washed his hands quickly at the small sink and uncapped the bottle.

He turned back around, spreading the oil on his hands, and Suga quickly buried his face in his arms again before Sawamura noticed him staring. He stepped behind Suga out of sight, and his hands were so light at first that for a moment Suga didn’t register that he was touching him.

The hands moving confidently up his back were large and warm, and Suga started to finally relax a little. Then Sawamura moved his hands down his sides and Suga shuddered involuntarily. He heard Sawamura breathe a soft laugh and flushed. Shimizu had laughed as well, the first time she realized he was ticklish. The next time Sawamura adjusted his hands just enough to avoid tickling him and Suga sighed a little as the man worked out a knot in his back. His mind drifted just enough so that the other man finally spoke, for once it didn’t startle him.

“So what do you play?”

“Hm?”

“I looked over your records while you were getting ready earlier. You’ve gotten a sports massage once a week for the last four months. So I assume,” – and his voice held a trace of amusement – “that you play a sport.”

“That’s a logical assumption.” Suga said drolly, and was rewarded with another breathy laugh. “And I play volleyball.” He felt Sawamura’s fingers twitch against his skin in surprise.

“Really? What position?”

“Setter.”

The other man hm’d thoughtfully. “I can definitely see that.”

“Yeah, why’s that?”

Strong fingers pressed into his shoulder. “Have you ever noticed that setters are almost always the pretty ones?”

It took several seconds for Suga to process what he had said. He sputtered. “The what?”

“The pretty ones.” Sawamura answered matter-of-factly, as if he hadn’t just indirectly called Suga as such. “Like, for instance, I saw a junior high match a few years ago.” He moved to Suga’s other shoulder. “They had a crazy good setter. Kid had a scary face, but he was definitely what you’d call pretty.”

Suga’s heart started to settle back down a little. “What school?”

“Kitagawa Daiichi, I think.”

Suga sat up a little in excitement. “I saw one of his matches, too!” Sawamura pushed lightly on his back and Suga lay back down, embarrassed. “Sorry. But man, that kid was amazing. I was so jealous. I could never set that accurately.”

“Me neither. But then, that’s not my job, so I never have to worry about it.”

“Yeah.” Suga agreed automatically, and then he jerked. “Wait, do you play too?”

The same quick, soft laugh. Suga was starting to enjoy hearing it. “Yeah.”

“No way. What position?”

“Wing spiker.”

Suga peeked over his shoulder at him, then rested his head back on his arms. “I could see that.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, wing spikers usually seem really strong and dependable, right? Because they’re the offensive players. So obviously they usually look strong. All of ours do, I know that much.”

Sawamura coughed awkwardly. “What school do you play for?” He asked, in an only slightly obvious attempt to change the subject. Suga smirked, feeling bold for the first time since he walked into the building. Two could play the casual praise game.

“Sarukawa Tech.”

“Wow. What are you going for?”

“Computer sciences degree.”

“Wow again.” Sawamura’s hands moved to his neck and Suga sighed a little in pleasure. “So you’re into computers and stuff, huh?”

“Yeah. I like learning how that stuff works. How all the little pieces fit together.” He laughed a little. “Plus, depending on what field you go into, there’s a little less dealing with people. Easier on my anxiety.” The words slipped out before he could stop them; usually he didn’t think twice about making jokes about his anxiety, but for some reason he found himself worrying that Sawamura might think less of him for it. Suga was already positive that he thought him the most awkward person in existence. Sawamura didn’t say anything, though; simply hummed understandably. Nonetheless it was Suga’s turn to awkwardly change the subject.

“What school do you play for?”

“Shiraume.”

Suga started. “What? They’re supposed to be really good!”

Sawamura chuckled and ran his hands down Suga’s back again. “I like to think we are.” He stepped back and Suga stretched, sighing deeply.

“Much better. Thanks so much.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sawamura smile. Even just a glimpse was blinding. “Happy to help.” He whisked out of the room, leaving Suga to carefully put his robe back on and hum along to the last few strains of violin music drifting from the cd player. He made his way slowly back to the dressing room, depositing the robe in a large hamper once he was redressed.

At the front desk Yachi ran his credit card and apologized once more about the scheduling mix-up. He held his hands up placatingly. “Seriously, Yachi-san, please don’t worry about it. Everything worked out fine.”

She handed back his card and receipt with teary eyes. “I’b so glab.” Suga smiled and turned away, putting his wallet back into his bag. Yachi was a sweet girl. She’d do a great job once she had a little more experience and her nerves settled a little. Of course, her panicky nature was what endeared her to Suga in the first place, as he could definitely relate.

He was almost to the front door when someone called his name.

“Sugawara-san.”

Sawamura seemed to almost appear out of nowhere only a few steps behind him and Suga jumped again. “Y-yes?”

“I got to thinking…our coach is looking to schedule some extra practice matches later this week. Do you think your team would be interested?”

“In playing you?” Suga asked dumbly. Sawamura nodded. “Um…” ‘Back to your eloquent self, I see.’ “I think they would be. I can ask our coach about it at practice tomorrow.”

“Great. I’ll have our coach call yours to talk times then, if he agrees.”

“Cool.” Suga agreed, before remembering abruptly that he didn’t know his coach’s number or the university’s by heart. “Uh, this is kind of embarrassing, but I don’t know his number off the top of my head.” He thought for a moment, then dug in his bag. “Um, why don’t I just give you mine for now, and then I can text you his tomorrow.” Sawamura made a strange face and it dawned on Suga that he might be being too forward.

“You don’t mind a complete stranger having your number?”

Suga meant to simply say no, but instead what came out was, “You’ve seen me almost completely naked, so I wouldn’t say we’re complete strangers.” The moment it was out of his mouth he regretted it. Behind the desk Yachi looked about as red as he felt. Sawamura was making a weird face again, but before Suga could apologize he started laughing. Not the quiet, controlled laugh from their session but a loud, shoulder-shaking laugh that echoed briefly off the high ceiling. When he finally could breathe again there were tears in the corners of his eyes.

“Fair enough. Let me grab my phone.”

Yachi watched him go, then turned to Suga with huge eyes. “I’ve never seen Sawamura-san laugh like that. He’s usually so serious.”

“How long has he been working here?” Suga asked curiously. “I know I’ve only been coming here a couple of months, but I don’t remember ever seeing him.”

“Only a few weeks. He’s only part-time so that might be why.” Yachi shuffled some papers together and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, smiling shyly. “I thought he was kind of scary at first, but he’s actually a very kind person.”

Before Suga could respond Sawamura reappeared, phone in hand, and Yachi quickly hunched over behind her computer and started clicking the mouse in earnest. Suga bit back a laugh. ‘If we really had been up to something bad we would’ve been busted in two seconds flat. Yachi-san has no poker face whatsoever.’

He dug a water bottle out of his bag, reciting his number to Sawamura between gulps. As he finished speaking his phone buzzed. Curious, he pressed the text icon and then yelped. “Shoot!” He shouldered his bag and dashed to the door. “Sorry.” He called over his shoulder at Sawamura’s confused expression. “I forgot I agreed to take my mom out to a movie tonight, and now we’re running late. Just, uh, shoot me a text later and I’ll send you our coach’s number tomorrow.”

“Uhh, right.”

“See you next week, Sugawara-san!” Yachi waved enthusiastically.

Suga waved back and ducked into the waiting car. “Sorry.” he said breathlessly. “We got busy.”

His mother raised an eyebrow. “I can see that.” She laughed. “Appointment run so long that you forgot about your dear mother?”

He rolled his eyes at her playfully. “Nooo. They got a new massage therapist. He plays for Shiraume’s volleyball team and their coach is looking to schedule some extra matches this week. I’m gonna talk to Coach Ukai about it tomorrow.”

They pulled out of the parking lot and his mother smiled tolerantly. After a bad wrist sprain in high school had put him out of commission for almost two weeks, his mother had become less enthusiastic about his passion for volleyball. But she hadn’t demanded that he stop playing, so he tried not to mind too much. “That sounds fun.”

Suga checked his texts again. There was nothing yet but he found himself grinning anyways. “Yep.”

He spent the rest of the night checking his phone on and off between homework assignments, but it wasn’t until nearly 10 o’clock that his phone finally buzzed with a text from an unknown number.

Received: Hey, it’s Sawamura. [10:00]

Suga nearly dropped his phone in his rush to pick it up.

Sent: Hey. It’s Sugawara. [10:01]

Sent: Um, but you already knew that. Since you’re the one texting me. [10:01]

Sent: Obviously. [10:01]

He buried his face in his hand, peeking through his fingers at his phone when it buzzed again.

Received: :D [10:02]

Suga snorted at the smiley face. Feeling a little bolder, he texted back.

Sent: Are you laughing at me [10:02]

The bottom of the text window said, “Unknown is typing”, but the message kept disappearing and reappearing, as if Sawamura kept changing his mind on what to say. Suga took the opportunity to enter his number into his contacts. He idly thumbed through his pictures, looking for a good icon, but in the end left it blank. Just as he backed out of his gallery his phone vibrated again.

Received: Maybe. [10:04]

Suga thought suddenly of the way Sawamura laughed softly whenever he did something embarrassing and felt his face burn.

Sent: So mean T.T [10:05]

Received: Sorry :D [10:05]

Sent: You don’t sound sorry at all [10:05]

Sent: Well, look sorry anyways [10:06]

Received: :D [10:06]

Sent: You really like that smiley don’t you [10:06]

Received: :D :D :D :D [10:06]

Suga choked on a laugh. He glanced at the clock above his bed, coughing a little. It was only a few minutes after ten, but unfortunately school mornings came fast.

Sent: Anyways, I’ll text you our coach’s number tomorrow. [10:08]

Received: Cool. I’ll be looking forward to it. [10:08]

Received: :D [10:08]

Suga snickered and plugged his phone in to charge, double checking that his alarm was set for the next day. He yanked the comforter over his head and went to sleep feeling stupidly happy.

#ToaTepsak's fics #Toa writes #haikyuu!!#sawamura daichi #sugawara koushi #yachi hitoka #college au #massage therapist au #i'd like to thank sarukawa tech for coming along AFTER i went to all the work #to make up a tech school #thanks guys #also *shoves my anxiety issues college major and love for sawamura daichi onto suga* oops #also can they please become friends already so i can just call him daichi #i got so sick of typing his last name asdf #also posted this on my ff.net and ao3 in case that makes it easier #next chapter will have my boys tanaka and noya i'm so excited #//if i can stay motivated that long//

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