Work Text:
Company banquets are lame. There, he said it. It should go without saying, that any mandatory work event sucks ass. In all honesty, Suna fully intended to skip out on this year's, year-end company banquet. He’s been with EJP long enough that he doesn’t give a single shit about what his boss would think about his absence. What are they going to do, fire him?
But Suna made the biggest mistake in the book and became friends with his coworkers. They managed to worm, or in Komori’s case, force their way into his sarcastic, cynical heart and haven’t left since. If there is one lesson Suna could impart on the youth of today, it would be to never, under any circumstances, befriend a coworker lest they face the same fate as him.
Komori Motoya, never one for subtlety doesn’t bother knocking on Suna’s front door. Komori kicks it open like he’s the star of an action film then whips off his sunglasses with one hand and shoots Suna a disapproving look.
“Is that what you’re wearing?”
Suna shrugs. “Wearing to what?” He taps at his phone screen, playing dumb and praying that maybe Komori will fall for his bullshit just the one time.
No luck.
“Suna Rintarou, you have five minutes to change out of those atrocious sweatpants and get in the car. We have a company banquet to attend.”
“I’m not going.”
“Suna. Buddy. Pal. If you think I won’t sic Yaku on you, you’re wrong.”
Suna narrows his eyes. Komori’s boyfriend, Yaku, is a human hurricane and someone Suna generally tries to avoid. “Yaku isn’t in town, you can’t trick me.”
Komori slips his sunglasses back on and hums noncommittally. “Or is he back early? Is that a risk you’re willing to take?”
It is not, in fact, a risk Suna is willing to take. “Fine. I’ll meet you in the car.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
For a company as big as EJP, Suna thought they’d be able to afford wine that isn’t bland. If he hadn’t seen the bartender pour it himself, he would have thought it was watered down, or something else equally barbaric.
It turns out that Komori wasn’t lying. Yaku is back early from whatever country business dragged him to this time, and he’s no calmer now than he was the last time Suna saw him. It's an art to avoid Komori when it's just him and it’s a whole other game to try to avoid Komori and Yaku. He manages a decent job of it throughout the evening and can rest easy now that they're tearing it up on the dancefloor.
They have finally given up on their unending quest to set Suna up with someone—they say it’s out of love but Suna knows the truth, they just need another couple to join them on their brunch outings so they can score 20% off the bill. Suna turns away, unable to watch Komori butcher another TikTok dance.
He is lamenting his poor taste in friends when someone starts to drag the seat next to him out from under the table, breaking his train of thought. “Anyone sittin’ here?”
He looks up and is met with a face that could rival any piece of art classical, modern, or otherwise. He's all broad shoulders and biceps.
Suna blinks in the face of the beautiful man, suddenly unable to talk. “Uh,” Suna stammers. He doesn’t recognize the newcomer but EJP is a big company and he’s had more than his share of bland wine.
The stranger frowns, his brows knitting together, then begins to pull away.
Shit. Suna hasn’t even gotten this beautiful man’s name and now he’s going to leave. Pull yourself together, Rintarou. “Um, shit, that’s not, no, right.” Smooth. He smacks a hand over his eyes and hopes it does something to hide the blush creeping across his cheeks. “Be my guest.” He gestures to the empty chair.
The stranger laughs. “Don’t mind if I do.”
Suna doesn’t know how much time passes before he and the stranger, whose name he now knows is Osamu, are laughing like old friends, poking fun at all his coworkers.
“Alright,” Osamu says with a sly grin. “Whatdya say we get out of here?”
Suna’s nose scrunches up and he's not exactly opposed to the idea but it's not exactly how he envisioned this night panning out. “That’s a bit forward. At least take me to dinner first.”
Osamu laughs and Suna is convinced that it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. “Sorry, that sounded, um, not what I meant.” Osamu’s face turns a brilliant shade of red and Suna likes him all the more for it.
Osamu rubs the back of his neck. “I meant, let’s ditch this party. We’re in a fancy hotel, right? There’s plenty of places to explore that are infinitely more entertaining than this.” He holds out a hand and nods toward the doorway. “Ya comin’?”
Suna briefly glances around the room. It’s no contest. He takes the offered hand, grinning as they make a mad dash for the door. In the distance, he thinks he hears the telltale sign of a Yaku ready to strike but he finds he doesn’t really care.
The end up in a ballroom not unlike the one Suna’s company’s banquet is being held in two floors away. This one is smaller though and, more importantly, it’s empty.
“Do ya know how to dance, Suna?”
“Only when I’ve had more than my share of wine.”
“Lucky for ya, I do know how to dance and I’d be more than happy to show ya.”
Any other time, Suna would rather die than be caught dancing. There’s a reason why he wasn’t tearing it up on the dancefloor with Yaku and Komori. He’s about to say no when Osamu’s earnest expression melts into a pout and all of Suna’s resolve melts into jelly.
“Alright, I hope you’re a patient teacher.”
Osamu smiles, wide and brilliant when Suna reaches for his hand. Suna can’t help but think it’s unjust that someone he’s known for no longer than a Marvel movie that’s overstayed its welcome, can make his heart race so fast.
“Alright, do ya wanna learn how to lead or how to follow?”
“Uhhh-” He flounders for the second time this evening but this time Osamu picks up the slack for him.
“I’ll teach ya to lead. Some think it’s harder but, the way I see it, if ya learn the harder part first, then it makes the other parts all the more easy.”
Suna doesn’t know the first thing about dancing so he just nods and agrees to the plan Osamu cooked up.
“Alright, so we’re gonna do a real basic East Coast swing dancin’ step. It’s a building block but in my humble opinion, I think it’s just as fun as any of that more complicated stuff. It’s called a 6-count basic step.”
Osamu points to his feet. “Triple step,” he steps forward on his left foot, his right following behind, then finishes with another step of the left. “Triple step-” he follows the same pattern but reversed as he steps backward. “Then we finish with a rock step.” Osamu rocks back onto the pad of his left foot then comes to a halt.
“Alright, so that’s the basics. Those were yer steps. I’ll be doing the same thing but with my feet switched but ya don’t have to worry about that.”
Suna looks down at his own feet and wonders how the hell he’s supposed to move with any of the grace Osamu just exhibited. It’s a basic move. Yeah right.
“Lemme show ya again and then you try.”
Osamu repeats the moves again. Triple step-triple step-rock step. Then again for good measure.
“Alright, let’s see what ya got, Suna.”
Suna grimaces, wishing that they had ended up anywhere but this ballroom, but then he catches sight of Osamu’s grin and he immediately takes it all back. Suna will happily make a fool of himself in front of a stranger if it means he gets to see that grin for a little while longer.
Suna shuffles awkwardly a few times, but after a few tries, he is surprised to find that it’s getting a little easier. His feet no longer move like he has bricks tied to them and, while he couldn’t even dream of embodying Osamu’s grace, he is getting the hang of it.
“Ah!” Osamu points to Suna’s feet. “That one! That was perfect!” He grabs hold of both of Suna’s hands. “Now we can move on to the fun part! Partnerin’”
Osamu holds both of Suna’s hands in his own, then carefully guides Suna’s right hand to the spot on his side right between his waist and his ribs then neatly lays his own arm overtop to grip Suna’s bicep. Their other hands remain tangled together, although Osamu rearranges their grip into some weird configuration that Suna is too lazy to figure out.
Osamu catches his eye, adjusts his grip on Suna’s arm, then smiles and says, “Alright darlin’, let’s sway.”
Suna wakes up the next morning with a dull headache and a fuzzy memory of the previous evening. After the company banquet ended, Yaku and Komori insisted that they all go to Karaoke to celebrate Yaku’s victorious return to Japan as if he doesn’t go on international business trips every other week. He’s pouring his second cup of coffee when he notices it, the remnants of the phone number scribbled on his forearm. It causes him great pain to do so but he has no choice. He pulls out his phone and calls Komori.
“You’re sure I didn’t meet anyone at the Karaoke bar?” Suna asks for the third time in as many minutes.
Komori snickers and Suna wants to punch him in the arm. “Positive. You spent the whole evening with us.”
“Then how-” Suna groans, peering down at the smudged writing on his arm. “What the fuck-”
“Are you sure you aren’t thinking of the banquet? Did you meet someone there? I lost track of you for a bit there.” He gaps. “Suna Rintarou, did you find yourself a prince charming?”
His memories of the previous night come flooding back; nearly dying of boredom, meeting Osamu, literally running away with him, Osamu teaching him to dance...kissing Osamu under the harsh fluorescent lights of the streetlamps outside. And finally, Osamu scribbling his phone number on Suna’s arm when Suna realized his phone was dead.
“Why? Something to spill there, Suna Rintarou? Anything you would like to share with the class.”
Suna exhales loudly through his nose. “Not to you.”
“Aww come on, I’m your friend! Let me help you out-”
“The only thing you’ve ever helped me with is getting me blackout drunk.”
“Sun-huh? Oh yeah, here,”
“Komori! No-”
But it’s too late. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Yaku says and Suna can hear his grin through the receiver.
“Good morning, Yaku,” Suna says in a desperate attempt to change the subject. He can’t remember much of the night before but he doesn’t want to divulge his rendezvous with mystery man Osamu until he’s tried to work it out himself first.
“Morning Suna. Hear you’re having a little problem.”
“Don’t worry, I can figure it out on my own.”
“Suit yourself but feel free to call back if you give up.”
Suna spends days trying to work it out and grows no closer to solving who the hell Osamu is or why he was at the work banquet. A peek through the company address book reveals not a single Osamu. He even takes a risk and asks Washio if he knows an Osamu but gets nothing for his act of bravery. By Friday, a full week since the inciting incident, Suna is tearing his hair out and ready to begrudgingly admit defeat.
“I’ll admit,” Yaku says. “You held out longer than I thought you would.”
Suna grits his teeth and tries to wait out whatever dumb speech Yaku is about to regale him with.
“But alas, you’re here anyway. Now tell me, what’s the problem?”
Suna explains what memories remain from that fateful evening and tries his hardest not to show just how desperate he is to find Osamu and, more importantly, Osamu’s phone number.
Yaku sits back, throws an arm around Komori’s shoulder, and grins. “Suna, all I have to say is, you’re in luck. I think I know exactly who your prince charming is.”
And that’s how Suna finds himself standing outside a little shop, out of breath, and soaked to the bone from a bout of summer rain. Suna hadn’t found Osamu in the company register and Washio wasn’t any help either because Osamu wasn’t an employee of EJP because he catered the-
“Suna,” Yaku says with a laugh. “You forgot one vital part of the banquet equation. Osamu isn’t an employee but he did make the-”
-onigiri.
Moments ago he was frantic, running from the train stop, in the pouring rain to find what he’d lost. But now that he’s finally here, he feels nothing other than a quiet sense of peace.
Suna takes a deep breath then pushes open the door to Onigiri Miya. Suna walks inside and it feels right. Like he was always meant to end up in front of Onigiri Miya someday whether by these circumstances or by some other force.
The shop is empty when he walks in and Osamu is behind the counter, his back turned to the door. His heart lurches with anticipation. Finally.
He strolls to the counter, smiling when he realizes Osamu is humming softly to himself. It’s confirmation that Osamu is just as adorable now as he was the previous weekend.
Suna coughs and Osamu whirls around but his greeting dies on his lips when he makes eye contact with Suna.
“It’s-” Osamu stammers, eyes wide, mouth stretching into an incredulous smile.
Suna smiles “-you.”
Everything stands still for a moment, even time seems frozen.
The moment ends and Osamu leaps over the counter so he's standing only inches from Suna.
Osamu brushes the hair out of Suna's eyes.
"Suna," Osamu says his name like a prayer. Like he's not quite sure Suna is actually here.
"Rin," Suna says. "Call me Rin."
Osamu smiles and it lights up Suna's entire world. "Alright then. Rin."
Osamu edges closer and Suna meets him halfway. He fists a hand into Osamu's Onigiri Miya apron and grins as he reels him closer. Osamu closes the remaining distance and then Suna can't think of anything other than Osamu and his lips and the way they fit perfectly against his own.
"I wasn't sure I was gonna hear from ya," Osamu mumbles against his mouth.
"Sorry, lost your number. Took all week to track you down."
Osamu smiles into the kiss. "That's alright. Yer here now. Come on darlin', sway with me."