my first and last | t. kuroo, h. iwaizumi

model coffee tutorial (not that anyone asked)

my eyes had glazed over like donuts fresh from the conveyor belt at a chain-retailed bakery. lost in a daydream, a memory–something that felt like a lifetime ago but somehow recent and easily within finger's grasp. the familiarity of my new boss's face finally struck me the way a clock strikes midnight: loud, ominous, jarring.

he was the CPR guy.

i exhaled, turning my head to look at him. how long had it been since he finished his phone call? how long had he been staring at me like that? his elbows placed on his desk, fingers interlocked and chin resting atop them. he smirked, and i took in his appearance. his hair was the same as it had been back then: messy, sticking up like he just rolled out of bed. one would think that after so many years, he would have found the secret to styling it.

neither of us spoke a word, staring at each other in the growing silence. the muffled sounds of the office filtered into the room: the beeps of the copier machines, the chatter of the other employees, the ringing of the phones. the soft hum of a fax machine–wait, no. that one was from within the room.

he swiveled in his chair to grab the freshly printed memo. glancing over it quickly, he crumpled the paper and tossed it into the bin across the room. (it didn't make it.) he stood, shrugging off his blazer. with his eyes focused on mine, he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves to expose his forearms. i couldn't help it; my eyes trailed down to watch the actions, chewing away at my bottom lip.

'did he recognize who i was? was that why i had gotten this job? or was he going to mock me for this horrendous fashion choice as well?' i wondered, distracted.

"sorry about that. i'm your boss, kuroo testurou." he walked to the door, holding it open. "let's go for a walk. i'm sure no one has given you a tour of the place."

i stood abruptly. like a rat stealing a slice of pizza in the underground, i scurried out of his office. i pressed myself against one end of the wide hallway, giving him room to walk past and lead the way. i followed behind him, maintaining a respectable distance. when we stepped into the main office area, he paused until i was beside him.

i wish he hadn't.

standing next to him, it was far more obvious that i had gotten dressed in the dark. i felt the overwhelming urge to wear a sign that stated: "i can do better than this, i swear." i decided against it; instead, i would simply do better tomorrow. after all, being the girlfriend of a model has taught me to always look stellar even when i felt anything but.

he gestured to the large space filled with numerous cubicles. "this is the bullpen. the think tank. the office. whatever you want to call it." his disinterested tone told me that i wouldn't be in this area often unless i was making copies, grabbing coffee, or kicking the vending machines for stealing my hard-earned money.

"meetings are held in the conference room toward the back," he continued, "copiers are on the opposite end, through the door marked 'copy room' obviously. and this–" he pushed forward into a well-lit room. "this is the break room."

the room was mostly white except for the one accent wall painted with large renditions of mikasa volleyballs flying in motion. i felt like if i stared at it long enough, they might come to life and attack me like they had years ago. i shuddered at the thought, turning to look at him. he was standing by a long counter placed along the wall of volleyballs.

"i assume you know how to make coffee, so i'll tell you that my order is just plain black." he grinned, setting out two mugs.

"should i make you some now?" i asked, taking the initiative.

at his nod, i stepped forward to one of the simple coffee pots. i grabbed the pot, filling it with water from the nearby faucet and poured it into the maker. reaching for the coffee canister, i turned to ask kuroo a question. but finding him engrossed in a game of trashketball, i decided against bothering him. scooping one spoonful of coffee for the six cups of water, i unceremoniously dropped it into the filter on top. pressing the 'on' button, i leaned back against the counter.

the machine bubbled and popped as coffee slowly filled the pot. the aroma of commoner's coffee filled the air, getting me drunk on the memories of all-nighters and pulling out hair as i studied for advanced cell biology. the days then may have been tough, but i wouldn't trade them for the world. the useless degree had eventually landed me this job after all.

when the machine gave its final spurts, i poured a full cup and walked it over to kuroo. he had finished his game a while ago–he won, but i never saw an opponent–and was now at one of the tables, scrolling on a dating application. he wasn't even looking at the screen, instead focused on me as he absentmindedly swiped right, then left, rhythmically.

"your coffee, boss man sir!" i presented, sliding the mug over to him as i took the seat across from him.

my cheeks were about to burst from the amount of smiling i was doing. i couldn't wait for him to try my signature coffee. it was still plain black–his usual order–but i had learned to adjust it to decrease the amount of calories. i was the girlfriend of a super successful model, after all. he had to watch his diet and caloric consumption, so i adopted the lifestyle as well.

the sounds of the office filtered in through the open doorway, and i felt my fingertips tingle. i couldn't wait to get my hands on all the stationery and technology in this office: the computers, copiers, filing cabinets, and especially the pens marketed for the 'japan volleyball association.'

but that would have to wait.

i watched as kuroo brought the questionably-stained '#1 grandpa' mug to his perpetually chapped lips. he took a long, slow sip of the coffee, holding it in his mouth to savor the taste. his eyes went wide, then fell flat as he let the coffee spill from his mouth back into the cup.

"(y/n)?"

"yes?" i responded, batting my eyelashes.

"where did you learn to make coffee?"

panicked that he was asking after something that would only be revealed at level 5 friendship (minimum), i rambled, quoting a video i had seen once. "well–my dad? my dad knew i liked beans? so he was just playing with–"

he cut me off. "never mind. how did you make this?" he corrected his question.

"a magician never reveals her secrets," i said as i winked.

he stood up, walking over to the sink to pour out the mug's contents. he looked me straight in the eyes and cleared his throat, trying not to gag at the aftertaste. he reached into the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of water. he downed the whole thing in one gulp before crushing the bottle on his forehead like a fraternity brother does with a beer can to impress the female of the species.

"never make it like that again. if you can't figure it out, ask someone for help," he glared at me.

i know i had messed up. but his stern tone, his vicious gaze...it set me ablaze. 'i'd love to hear him speak with me like that in the bedroom,' i lusted. maybe we could even take some notes from christian grey and anastasia steele. they seemed like really good friends.

"let's go, (y/n). we still have a lot to accomplish today," he groaned, fixing his tie. and with that, we walked back to his office.