A/N: Welcome! Thanks for stopping by and giving this fic a chance. First thing first, this is 6918/1869 and there could be anything else if you squint your eyes hard enough. AU and light fluff. Not a big fan of huge a/n's nor the type to write one (for one-shots, at least) so enjoy the story. Regular disclaimers applied, don't own KHR or Starbucks.
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It was a Monday.
And Hibari, at the moment, was living a relatively normal life, one that was rather mundane and very habitual. In his opinion, nothing interesting ever occurs in this small town he currently resided in. The same old stuff happens every day and he knew what to expect. It was as if this routine-esque lifestyle was etched into a stone.
He wished something exciting would happen; something that would make his heart race and his adrenaline pumping; something that would make him feel, for a lack of a better description, alive. He rolled his eyes at his melodramatic thoughts. It was just asking for an unwanted can of worms to be opened.
The brunet let out a small sigh, pulling out from his coat pocket, a large ring hooked with multiple keys. Hibari unlocked one of the large locks and pushed up the metal guard before finally unlocking the door to the small, dainty coffee shop.
Hibari didn't hold any disdain towards the local imitation of Starbucks, but it (like everything else in this down) was quite boring. The same people come in everyday. Business owners in the morning, along with some college students from the local university, were mainly the morning customers. The afternoon was filled with high school students, i.e., teenagers. Hibari hated that crowd the most. They were noisy and loitered in the shop.
Suffice to say, once Hibari started looking over this shop for his uncle, Fon, the teenagers that visit in the afternoon significantly decreased.
The night customers consisted of more university students, ones that thought caffeine would aid them through the various all nighters they had to pull. And there would be one or two people he never seen before, but they soon become regulars and blend into the background, finding their place in this small, dainty coffee shop.
It wasn't like Hibari hated being a barista; it's just that it was boring.
Like everything else at the moment.
. 6 9 1 8 . . 1 8 6 9 .
It was a Thursday.
It was one of those days that Hibari had to make one of those complicated and troublesome lattes, one ordered by a very picky customer. The door abruptly chimed, signaling that someone entered his coffee shop. He was used to this the wind chimes, he heard it practically every other minute, and pays no heed to them.
Adding the finishing touches to the rather intricate latte, he turned around and handed it towards the customer who ordered it, along with his signature glare but just a little stronger, purely out of annoyance.
That's when something, rather someone, caught his eye.
He was definitely new, Hibari mused. The man that caught his attention was standing slightly to the side, not exactly on the line and squinting as he read the scribbled words on the menu above Hibari's head. His hair was styled abnormally and probably a dyed shade of very dark blue.
"Excuse me? Hello? How much is the stinkin' coffee?"
Hibari snapped out of his daydream like state and stop holding back on his glare, unleashing it at full force. The picky customer, much to Hibari's pleasure, shrank back and started chuckling nervously, with muttered apologies in between.
"$5.25," Hibari continued, with his glare still perfectly in place.
The picky customer pulled out a ten and quickly snatched his coffee before muttering, "Keep the change."
Hibari smirked, satisfied. Another job well done, he internally praised himself. He then looked back to where the stranger was standing before. For reasons unknown, Hibari was disappointed when he didn't find the stranger still there. He concluded that he must've left either because the price was too high, a complaint he would often overhear in multiple conversations in the coffee shop, or it didn't just didn't suit his taste.
So the brunet decided to take a nap in the back and decided not to dwell on the stranger too much. No one would come in for another hour and no one would dare to steal from Hibari either. He would end up finding the sorry fellow and beat him to the verge of death. It happened before, and he was pretty sure it won't ever happen again.
Stifling a yawn, Hibari opened a door that would lead to a small break room for employees. Before he could step into the small, cramped space, a tell tale 'ding' echoed briefly, signaling that there a customer was waiting. He knew he should've gotten rid of the bell the first day he stepped into this place.
Turning around, with his glare in place again, Hibari rudely said, "What?"
"Hm? I would like to order some coffee," a smooth baritone answered. As Hibari turned around, he met a pair of mismatched eyes. It was the stranger from before.
Feeling oddly pleased, Hibari's menacing façade almost slipped, but he stopped before it could do so.
"What do you want?" Hibari asked, the words coming off harsher than he intended for them too.
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed," the heterochromiac said wryly, "I'm in a knockoff of Starbucks, and I just said I wanted coffee. Oh gee, I wonder, what do I want?"
"Regular blend? Latte? Frap?" Hibari almost growled.
The stranger's thin lips curved into an infuriating smirk, "What do you recommend?"
"Are you trying to waste my time?" Hibari was debating whether or not he should have a violent outburst and scare the stranger away right then and there.
"No, there are just a lot of choices, and I have a hard time deciding," he smoothly replied.
Hibari sighed exasperatedly, "So, you won't mind if I pick the most expensive thing on the menu?"
The stranger kept smirking, "Not if it's worth it."
Hibari found the stranger's behavior irritating but got working on one of his favorite blends. Opening various cupboards and grabbing a variety of powder, sugar, and other secret ingredients that made this coffee house popular in this town and started combining them into a small cup. After mixing, he poured a secret blend of coffee that was an undisclosed family recipe into the solid mix. He then poured the hot mixture into a large, plastic cup filled with ice and added a superfluous amount of whip cream. He added finishing touches to the caffeinated drink by drizzling chocolate and caramel on top.
Capping it, he handed it to the stranger, who accepted it gladly. Their fingers touched briefly, and Hibari pulled back rapidly. It felt like sparks were ignited during that transient moment.
Then again, it might've been just static electricity and he was watching one too many chick flicks with his younger cousin. Not that he watched chick flicks. He was coerced into doing so by said younger cousin.
"It's $6.96," Hibari tapped the cash register that displayed the numbers in a bright, bold green.
The stranger pulled out a five and a couple of singles and handed it over to the brunet. Hibari handed the heterochromiac his change and watched him intently.
The look didn't go unnoticed by the stranger, "Yes? Is there something on my handsome face?"
"As if," Hibari snorted and rolled his eyes, "Aren't you going to drink the coffee?"
"Of course," the stranger grabbed one of the bendy straws on the counter and stuck it into his drink after removing the paper cover. His mismatched eyes lit up as the cool liquid hit his mouth, startling his taste buds.
It was Hibari's turn to smirk.
"I'm guessing you like it," Hibari didn't even bother hiding the triumphant tone in his voice.
"It's good," the stranger said, surprised.
"Of course," Hibari said mockingly, "Now get off the line, you're holding it."
The stranger complied, and took one of the seats that gave him a perfect view of the barista. Hibari sighed, irritated. He wanted to take a nap, but the new wave of customers prevented him from doing so. Hibari put on his best scowl before he started to take orders.
He forgot all about the stranger and didn't even notice when he left.
Only later that night when he was closing, did he find the completely empty cup lying on the table, with a piece of paper lying underneath it. It was scrawled in messy but somehow elegant script.
'Thank You. –M'
Hibari felt a slightly fluttering in his chest. He pushed the feelings away, ignoring the warm feeling.
Maybe he was watching too many chick flicks with I-Pin, Hibari thought internally as he locked up the store.
. 6918 . . 1869 .
It was a Tuesday.
Over the past eighteen weeks, Hibari became acquainted with the former stranger, whom visited twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He came to learn that his name was Mukuro and was of Italian descent. He also learned that he was going to be a fulltime intern (he was only part time at the moment) at the local hospital after he graduated from medical school, aiming to be a psychiatrist.
Mukuro has become another regular, just like Hibari predicted, but going against what he normally thought, the Italian didn't blend into the background or became another one of those customers the Japanese man knew he would have to get used to.
In fact, with every visit, he seemed to be more and more drawn into Mukuro; maybe it was the man's natural charisma, but that didn't explain why he wanted his full attention and thought he was the only one that deserved it. It didn't explain how his scowl deepens, how his glares intensify, and how his mood got worse with every ticking second when the Italian brought (what Hibari hopes is) a friend along, like that odd, white haired male with triangular tattoos underneath his lavender eyes. Or that girl with clearly dyed purple hair that was parted strangely so it covered her right eye.
The same girl that he was with here now.
He hears the endearing names the Italian call her. 'My cute Chrome' or 'my darling Chrome'. He didn't like how she would blush when he call her those names either.
What he didn't like the most was Mukuro's smirk, sardonic and unforgiving. As if it was payback for all those times (two, he counted) Mukuro asked him out. It was as if he knew exactly the inner turmoil he was suffering from.
That bastard. But, the part that pissed him off the most was how he was acting like those teens in those chick flicks he would watc- coerced into watching with I-Pin.
"Kyouya, you're going to spill the coffee," a small, feminine voice interrupted his inner musings.
True to the girl's words, in a couple of seconds the small cup would've overfilled. Hibari stopped in time, and capped it before giving to the customer, redirecting his anger at the unfortunate, innocent bystander.
"Kyouya," the feminine voice whine, "Stop scaring the customers or this shop is going to close down before I can take over."
Hibari rolled his eyes at his younger cousin, who looked at him disapprovingly.
"I-Pin, they'll live," Hibari said bluntly.
"Is it Mukuro?" I-Pin suddenly leaned closer and started whispering in the brunet's ear, "You know, that girl is pretty. Wonder if they're dating."
Hibari redirected his glare at his cousin. He noticed was doing a lot of glaring today.
"Your phone is ringing. I think it's Lambo," Hibari pushed his younger cousin away, who giggled as she went to retrieve her phone. It was a big mistake telling his cousin about his problem and asking her help for it too. He really regretted that action, but the damage was done.
The sound of chairs scrapping against the floor attracted Hibari's attention and he saw Mukuro and the girl walking towards the door. He had her arm slung around her and his smirk still intact. His mismatched eyes were still on him, probably savoring how Hibari was currently riled with jealously.
"Kyouya, you're crushing the cup," I-Pin whistled while rapidly texting Lambo.
Hibari looked down. True to her words, a mutilated paper cup was enveloped in his hands.
He threw it out and growled in his frustration.
Maybe he should attend those anger management classes his uncle recommended.
. 6918 . . 1869 .
It was a Wednesday.
It was usually the slowest day in the week. Today just proved the previous statement to be true.
The total number of customers that came in so far could be counted on Hibari's fingers. The brunet sighed. He wanted to just close the store and take a nap in the back or just go home to his apartment and drink some tea, sick of all the coffee that he's surrounded by. It wasn't like he hated coffee, no, he liked coffee, but in small, minute amounts and sparsely.
He watched the clock tick meticulously on the wall, every second passed agonizingly slow. After eighteen seconds, he figured he couldn't take it anymore; he was going to close the store early, go home, take a bath, slip into his yukata and sip tea while watching TV. He needed to catch up on the latest episodes of medical dramas. They were always entertaining.
Before he can move from the counter, he unexpectedly saw someone familiar through those large, slightly tinted, glass windows from his peripheral vision. He did a double take.
Hibari frowned slightly, wondering what in the world was he doing here.
The doors opened, a breeze of hot air slipped in as the bells above the door chimed, but the air conditioning quickly engulfed it and the cool air dominated once more.
"Hey, Kyouya, it's nice seeing you again!"
Soft, chocolate brown eyes met his jaded onyx orbs.
"Takeshi. I didn't think I would see you again after college."
"Haha! I didn't think so either," the former baseball player exclaimed, "Do you know how long it took me to hunt you down? Like, a long time!"
Hibari rolled his eyes at the fellow Japanese's excitement. He was happy, to an extent, that Yamamoto came to visit him. He was one of his only friends throughout college. Or at least he was one of the only ones he allowed to call a 'friend'.
"What brings you Kokuyo?" Hibari asks and starts preparing Yamamoto's favorite blend of coffee. He still remembers the order he would give to the cashier at Dunkin Donuts when they were attending college together.
"You," Yamamoto replied bluntly, unaware of the implications in that one word.
Hibari, who've dealt with the airhead for fifteen years, knew what he meant. He raised an eyebrow, signaling for the fellow brunet to continue.
"I read an article, about how you got fired from your old job-"
"I was forced to quit because they didn't know how to run a hospital," Hibari interrupted.
"-and how you became a hero by reporting their immoral practices," Yamamoto continued nonetheless.
"That was a year and a half ago," the brunet shrugged as he handed Yamamoto his coffee.
"I know and thanks," Yamamoto took a sip, and his eyes lit up, "Wow, this is better than any Dunkin Donuts I ever had."
"Of course it is," Hibari said smugly, "I have to go, so if you're here to waste my time, I suggest you leave too."
"Remember Tsuna?" Yamamoto blatantly disregarded Hibari's words.
"Sawada?"
"Yeah, well, his old brother, Giotto, is the director of a hospital at Nanimori, and Tsuna convinced him to give the old gang our jobs."
"I was never part of you, quote unquote, gang, group, whatever," Hibari's eyes narrowed.
"So, you would rather blend coffee and milkshakes in this shack for the rest of your life?" Yamamoto countered, "I mean, college, medical school, internships, all of that all down the drain. Besides, we'll deck off how every many years you still need to be promoted to an attending, so it's a pretty good deal. I know you're itching to touch a scalpel again."
Sometimes, he hated how well Yamamoto knew him. No, scratch that, all the time.
Hibari sighed. He was itching to tough a scalpel again.
"How much time do I have?"
Yamamoto smiled; he knew Hibari accepted his offer. Then he started laughing nervously.
"I'm waiting," Hibari said sharply, hoping to cut down on the time he's wasting with Yamamoto.
"You see," the brunet scratched his head, "You have to leave uh. Like now."
"Repeat that," Hibari said calmly, or as calm as he could without exploding and smashing Yamamoto's head right then and there.
"Well, sorry for the short notice," Yamamoto defended himself, "But you have to leave now. I got my van outside, Hayato and Ryohei are waiting. I can drive by your new place and you can pack. Have your uncle ship your furniture to this address."
Yamamoto handed him a new slip of paper.
"We're roommates again," Yamamoto said nostalgically, "But only for like a month, until we can find our own separate apartments within the city. This was a short notice for me too, you know."
Hibari groaned. He couldn't have everything go his way, and it would be a shame to lose this great opportunity.
"Stop by I-Pin's place. I have to tell her about this and give her the keys to this place," Hibari said reluctantly.
"Give me the address and we'll stop by," Yamamoto smiled once again, "Well, let's get going then."
Hibari quickly locked the cash register and door to the back room. Following Yamamoto outside, he locked the front door and pulled down the metal screening before finally fastening it to a giant lock that kept it all together. Hibari looked at it one more time. He knew this would be the last time he saw this coffee house.
Was he going to miss this place? Not really, Hibari pondered, but he was going to miss seeing a certain Italian every Tuesday and Thursday. That thought itself brought a heavy feeling on his chest.
Hibari sighed, disliking the uneasiness in his chest. He looked to the side and realized Yamamoto was already halfway down the block.
He tried to push those feelings away as he tried to catch up with the former baseball player.
. 6918 . . 1869 .
It was a Saturday.
Mukuro planned on dropping by the café he discovered not-so-recently to grab some coffee, making up for the fact that he didn't go on Thursday. He had some free time on his hands this afternoon only because discharged from the hospital he was part time interning at. He was grateful that out of all the interns, they recommended him to a hospital in a different city, one that could provide so much more in terms of experience.
It meant leaving Kokuyo and moving on, broadening his horizons. He was glad they recommended him and not the other interns, but he would miss the barista at the café. Over the weeks, he learned a bit more about the barista, but not as much as he wanted to.
He knew that his name was Hibari, but that teenage girl that worked beside him would always address him as 'Kyouya' when he overhears (eavesdrop) on their conversations. He also learned that the man is six years older than him and was of a mixed Chinese-Japanese descent.
But that's all the barista would reveal willingly.
Mukuro learned the rest by watching him. Observing.
Hibari always did things very meticulously. After every coffee he made, he would wash his hands, probably out of habit. The way he walks and performs certain tasks is somehow familiar, and he could've sworn he have seen it somewhere, on someone else before.
The Asian man also talked dismissively, as if everyone was wasting his time. The way he holds himself and unconsciously give the people around him condescending looks, acting as if he's better than everyone else and no one is worth his time.
Mukuro wanted to prove him wrong, that there is someone who is worth his time.
It started with innocent flirting. Mukuro was a smooth talker, and it didn't take much to charm the man, or so Mukuro likes to think. Hibari ignoring him or quietly threatening his life from time to time was a good thing, right?
The Italian was starting to think he had an S&M fetish he wasn't aware about. And as clichéd and typical as it sounds, the heterchromiac also developed feelings for the brunet alone the way.
Soon enough, his labor bore fruit. Mukuro noticed how he would enter the shop, the brunet's eyes would linger on him for a few more seconds than it would on any other customers. It became glaringly obvious, especially when he brought his friend, Byakuran, or his younger sister, Chrome, into the shop with him. Mukuro liked to internally gloat about his small victory. The only thing that confused him though, was why the brunet turned him down. Not once, but twice.
The Italian opened the door to the coffee shop and the cool air conditioning felt like heaven on his skin. He scanned around, and immediately spotted the brunet. He needed to tell Hibari about the offer his hospital was able to give him and his graduation date. He hoped that the brunet would come.
Today, he also planned to ask Hibari out for the third time. Third time's a charm, as they (whoever they were) would say.
Arriving at the counter, he realized there was something wrong with the brunet.
His hair was gathered up at the bottom, styled into a braid. He knew that Hibari's hair was short and that there was no way he would be able to naturally grow his hair that long in such a short amount of time.
"Hibari?" Mukuro cautiously asked.
The brunet turned around and smiled warmly.
"I'm afraid you have me mistaken for my nephew," the male's English was accented and strange. They share the same face yet ironically, they sound nothing alike.
"I'm sorry," the heterchromiac apologized and flashed him a smile, "But do you know where Hibari is?"
"Ah, you mean Kyouya?" the man smiled, but it was more sincere than Mukuro's, "He skipped town a few days ago."
Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.
Rewind.
"He skipped town?" Mukuro parroted in disbelief.
"Something about a new job offering, I couldn't quite catch what he was saying," the Hibari look-alike answered, "I let him go, of course. He didn't seem happy in this place."
Those words struck an unfamiliar chord inside of Mukuro. He didn't know how to interpret them and frankly, he didn't want to.
"I see," Mukuro smiled again, concealing the inner turmoil he was experiencing, "Sorry for wasting your time."
"Oh wait, are you Mukuro by any chance?" the look-alike stopped the Italian from leaving the shop.
"What if I am?"
"Kyouya said he'll take up your offer next time he sees you."
Mukuro muttered a small, "Thank you."
Hibari look-alike smiled softly with an all knowingly look in his eyes before going back to blending coffee.
As Mukuro walked out the door, he thought about the words. Was it a string that would only lead him to false hopes? Did the brunet feel guilty and decided to give him something impossible for him to look forward too? Maybe it was just euphemism for 'good bye, I'll never see you again'. The Italian knew this was all very likely and probably what Hibari meant.
Although, a small part of him couldn't help but cling onto those words and hope he will see him again in the future. The same part of him that fluttered when he heard those words that came out of Hibari look-alike's mouth. He did say he'd take up his offer and Mukuro will hold him to that.
After all, third time's a charm, right?
. 6918 . . 1869 .
It was a Sunday.
Hibari looked over at the small calendar stationed on his private desk, in an office-like room he shared with three other surgeons, Gokudera, Yamamoto and Ryohei.
It's been a few months since he left Kokuyo. He can't say he regret it, it was something he wanted at one point in his life.
Working at a hospital certainly brought the excitement back in his life, to a certain extent. He didn't regret accepting the job either, because it was what he wanted. The sterile smell of the hospital, doctors rushing everywhere, his pager beeping for what seemed like every other minute and even the horrible coffee they had in the reception room, all of it Hibari looked forward to when he started working at this hospital.
Despite all this, it didn't feel the same. There was something different this time around, and he knew it wasn't because of the hospital he was working in. The brunet pushed the troubling thoughts away and decided to focus on his work.
Hibari skimmed over his paperwork one more time, double checking for errors he might've accidentally made. Satisfied with his work, he scribbled his signature where it was needed and collected the papers into one pile. He needed to deposit these at the chief's office and then he would be able to head out to his lunch break shortly afterwards. Hopefully the diner a few blocks away wouldn't be crowded today, after all, he did hold an inexplicable disdain towards crowds.
He got off his chair and walked out of his office, locking the door for safety reasons. The elevator was at the end of the all and Hibari headed there with that destination in mind. Unfortunately, someone decided to appear out of nowhere and crash into him, knocking his organized paperwork out of his hands. It fluttered in the air like snowflakes on a cold December morning and Hibari was not happy about it.
"Ah, I'm sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going, here I'll help-"
That voice sounded awfully familiar, the name was on the tip of his tongue, but Hibari was too preoccupied with picking up the paperwork he spent hours on scattered on the floor.
In a hurry, he accidentally brushed his hands against the stranger's and yanked it back, surprised at the jolt of static electricity. The dry, cold air tends to have this effect on people, especially in the winter.
He looked up, to see the stranger nursing his hands too. But that wasn't the only thing he saw.
"Mukuro?" he blurted out before he could stop himself.
"Why, the one and only, Kyouya," Mukuro stood, smirking as he handed Hibari his paperwork.
"What are you doing here? And I didn't recall telling you to call me Kyouya," Hibari narrowed his eyes in both suspicion and irritation.
"Shouldn't I be asking that?" Mukuro shrugged, "Well, I found out it was your first name and where I came from, we address each other by our first names, not last."
"You still didn't answer my first question and you don't seem that surprised."
"I got transferred into a better hospital that'll give me a better learning experience. And I'm not surprised because you serve coffee like you're going to go into the E.R. and perform some life saving surgery."
Hibari's eyebrow twitched in annoyance, "I can discharge you right now, you know. I'm an attending."
"And I'm an intern, I think we already established that," the Italian said dryly, "But you won't, you know why?"
"Why? Do enlighten me."
Mukuro smile slyly and walked up to the brunet, who didn't look amused, and wrapped his arms around aforementioned brunet.
"Because you like me," the heterochromiac whispered into the brunet's ears.
Hibari rolled his eyes but couldn't resist smiling slightly nonetheless, "It's going to take more than that. What am I? Some hormone driven teen?"
Mukuro unlocked his arms and chuckled, "No, but I do know you owe me a date."
"Hm? I don't recall," Hibari started walking towards the elevator. He needed to get these papers to his boss.
"Oya oya," the brunet could hear the Italian briskly walking behind him, trying to catch up, "Don't weasel your way out of this. Or I'm going to have to take action."
"For your information, it's an informal outing," Hibari pressed the up button of the elevator, shooting Mukuro an unimpressed look, "Not a date."
Mukuro's eyes widened and a smile broke out on his face, "Tomorrow at seven?"
The tell tale ding of elevator signaled its arrival and shortly afterwards, the thick, metal doors opened, revealing no one inside. Hibari stepped in, leaving Mukuro outside out of the elevator, who he assumed had other matters to attend to on this floor.
"Of course."
The doors slowly closed on an even more surprised Mukuro.
He pressed the button for ground level and the elevator started moving down.
In the elevator, Hibari found himself smiling.
For the first time, he couldn't wait until it was Monday.
.
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A/N: Just some more notes that might clarify some things; I didn't want to put it in the begining because I didn't want to spoil anything. In a hospital, the ranks from doctors, lowest to highest, are intern, resident, attending, and chief. Google them if you want more information. There might be some inaccuracies that I'm unaware of, just putting that fact out there. Also, if you see a mistake (typo, grammar, spelling, etc.) don't hesitate to tell me in a review.
R&R people. I mean, you already did the first R, might as well do the second :)
QED.