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Kiyoomi
Kiyoomi never imagined himself as the type of person to get married, yet here he was, in the throes of wedding planning. It’s been a nightmare. Choosing napkins, plates, color schemes, deciding where to seat people. And for some reason nothing was exactly the way he wanted it. Atsumu keeps laughing and calling him “bridezilla”, which is beyond rude for such a serious situation.
Today he is supposed to go cake tasting with Atsumu, which at least sounded fun and relaxing. Unlike choosing napkins, where there are a million colors and patterns and materials and ugh. Unfortunately, all semblance of “fun and relaxing” went out the door when his fiancée walked out of their bedroom that morning looking like he had been visited by death himself.
“Omi, I feel like I got hit by a train an’ it backed up over me. I have the worst cold in the history of the world.”
“I’m sorry,” Kiyoomi said as he places a kiss on Atsumu’s forehead, “do you want me to reschedule the cake tasting?”
“No! What if canceling makes ‘em hate us an’ then they spit in our cake or somethin’? Take ‘Samu.”
He scrunches his nose at that. “If you think they’re going to spit in our cake we probably shouldn’t order from them.”
“I was joking, babe,” Atsumu pats his shoulder twice before going to get a cup of tea, “seriously, call ‘Samu. It’s his day off an’ he’s legally obligated as best man.”
——————————
Osamu
Osamu is excited to be tasting professional wedding cakes with his brother’s hard-earned money rather than his own. The couple selected this pastry shop—Suna’s Sweets—after a painstakingly long research and selection process to find the best tasting cakes in their region. Knowing Kiyoomi, it’s expensive too; he almost passed out when he saw the price of the floral arrangements Kiyoomi and Atsumu chose.
It’s relatively small with outdoor seating, and a variety of plants both inside and outside, matching beautifully with the dark wood of the building. He can tell the owner put a lot of thought into the design of the layout, knowing appearance can be just as important as quality when it comes to drawing in customers. It’s like his brother constantly tells him, “Always judge a book by its cover.” An idiot, as always (ever heard of hidden gems?) but there is some truth to that.
“Wow, the vibes of this place are perfect. Cozy ‘nough to make a customer stay, but not too comfortable ta overstay their welcome. Gorgeous too, the way the-“
“Osamu we are not here to compliment the bakery’s business model; we are here to try cakes,” Kiyoomi pauses for a moment, “the ‘aesthetics’ are what originally attracted Atsumu to this place though, so I will give you that.”
The two walk in together, a small bell ringing when they open the door. A bubbly girl, most likely a student, greets them with a smile when they approach the counter, “Hi! Welcome to Suna’s Sweets! What can I get started for you both?”
“Hello. Nothing right now—we are here for the 11:00 wedding cake tasting,” Kiyoomi responds.
“I would like a dora yaki and a green tea, please,” Osamu quickly amends the rejection, receiving a glare from Kiyoomi.
“He’ll just take the tea. We have cakes to try.”
“Right away! Suna-san is in the back with everything prepared, so you can just head back there. Here’s your tea—I’ll add the cost to the cake tasting,” the girl responds with a smile.
When they head into the back of the store, they find a man waiting for them at a table with five different slices of cake flavors the couple selected prior to the appointment. Noticing the arrival of customers, the man looks up at them with a customer-service smile. And holy hell if this isn’t the hottest person Osamu has ever seen—will ever see—may the gods strike him down now because he will not be able to take such beauty. His brown hair looks so shiny and soft and his eyes, oh my gosh, he could stare at them forever. (Un)fortunately his thoughts on how attractive the man standing before them is are cut short when Kiyoomi lightly hits his arm. Apparently, he had been staring like a deer in head lights.
“Hello, I’m Suna Rintarou. You must be the soon-to-be Miyas.”
“Sakusa is fine for me today, please,” Kiyoomi responds with a slight frown, causing Suna to slightly raise his eyebrows in confusion at the lack of excited response to the reminder of his wedding day, but presses on.
“Well, thank you for coming Sakusa-san and Miya-san. Please take a seat. I’ve set out the flavors you chose: strawberry shortcake, yuzu, black sesame, chocolate, and sakura. Is there any particular one you would like to start with?”
“Hmm,” Kiyoomi looks between the options before turning to Osamu, “you look like a kid on Christmas. What do you think?”
“Final choice is probably goin’ ta end up either strawberry shortcake, ‘cause ya like tradition, or chocolate, ‘cause Miyas love chocolate, so let’s end with those and start with yuzu.”
Suna sets the plate with the yuzu cake in front of them, ready for any questions or concerns the pair may have.
“Thank ya, Darlin’”, Osamu shoots him a lopsided grin before grabbing the plate, getting eye level with it, and rotating it around. His eyes are narrowed in analysis mode, head nodding in approval. After setting down the plate, he picks up his fork and pokes the cake, “Good visuals, frosting appears ta be sturdy, yet soft, cake has perfect bounce back.”
“Can we eat it now or do you need to scrutinize it for another hour,” Kiyoomi grabs the plate from him, sticks his fork in the cake, and takes a bite.
“It’s part of the process, Kiyoomi.” Osamu’s bite is more thought out than his, grabbing a calculated ratio of cake to frosting, “holy SHIT. This is incredible! The frosting perfectly balances out the yuzu flavor. Moist an’ fluffy. I wouldn’t be surprised if ya told me ya made yer own butter and raised yer own chickens for eggs. Tastes like ya do.”
The intense praise makes Suna look away, fidgeting with his hands. He’s never been complimented like this before. “In a way, I guess. I buy homemade butter from someone I know and the same with the eggs. All the ingredients are as fresh and local as possible.” Osamu looks at him with stars in his eyes.
Kiyoomi nods, “yes, this is really good. But Atsumu wouldn’t like it.” He thinks for a moment, “neither would my sister.”
“Who cares what my idiot brother thinks? This is borderline orgasmic,” Osamu says, throwing a wink in Suna's direction. The pastry chef widens his eyes in shock at that comment.
“Oh my god, Osamu.” Kiyoomi looks at Suna with an apologetic look on his face, “I’m so sorry about him. I wish I could say he isn’t normally like this, but he is. Please ignore him.”
“It’s… fine. I’m honored, I suppose.”
Osamu takes a sip of his tea to cleanse his palate and rubs his hands together in anticipation, “okay let’s move on to the black sesame.”
Suna dutifully hands the black sesame cake to Osamu. “Thanks, Sweetheart,” he smiles before doing the same procedure he did with the yuzu cake. “The visuals on this one are incredible, the contrast between the dark cake and the white frosting. Good symbolism too—how contrast works well together in a relationship. Bounce back isn’t as good as the last one, but it’s moister. More my style.”
“I’m not sure moister is a word, Osamu,” notes Kiyoomi.
“Yer doubting the professional? It is. Look it up”
“Are you a food critic or something?” Suna cuts in.
“Wouldn’t ya like ta know,” Osamu responds with a small smirk on his face.
“He owns a restaurant. Onigiri Miya.”
Osamu takes his purposeful bite while making eye contact with Suna. “It’s perfect,” he moans, “if the last one was borderline orgasmic, this one definitely is orgasmic.”
Suna is blushing hard, looking anywhere but Osamu. “Your fiancée is very expressive with his opinions,” he notes.
Kiyoomi looks between the two, finally realizing what’s going on. Apparently, Osamu’s earlier ‘deer in headlights’ look when they walked in wasn’t about the selection of cakes. “Oh my god, he is not my fiancée. This is his twin. My fiancée, Atsumu, is sick so he came with me instead,” he explains with his head in his hands.
Suna’s eyes snap to Kiyoomi, then to Osamu, letting the new information sink in. He’s quick to recover though. A smirk finds its way onto his face as he puts his elbow on the table, head in his hand. “Oh really?” He sets the plate with the slice of sakura cake in front of them with his free hand, maintaining eye contact with Osamu.
Osamu shoots him a smile, pleased the pastry chef has taken well to his advances, and once again picks up the plate to examine it. “Bounce back is similar ta the first, appears ta be perfectly moist, pretty but not at all yer style, Omi. Don’t know why ya picked this one.” He takes a bite, this time letting out a calculated moan and exaggeratingly rolling his eyes to the back of his head.
Kiyoomi abruptly stands up, almost knocking his chair over. “Alright,” he quickly tries the last two cakes, “chocolate. We choose chocolate. I’m leaving.”
“Please tell Hitoka-chan to go home on your way out and flip the sign to closed!” Suna shouts to the quickly retreating Kiyoomi. After hearing a, “eugh, gross” from Kiyoomi in response, he turns back to Osamu, “so you like that one, huh?”
“Actually, not really,” he shrugs. “On the technical level it’s perfect, but it’s not my preference.”
Suna let out a breathy laugh, “you’re ridiculous.” He slides the chocolate towards the other for him, “this one next. I heard Miyas love chocolate.”
Osamu stands up and makes his way to the other side of the table, leaning into Suna’s space, “yer cake is great and all, but I think I would rather taste ya, Rintarou-san”
He blushes hard, “I– yeah. Okay, yeah”
Osamu gently cups Suna’s face, pulling him into a heated kiss. The other man instantly responds, placing his hands on Osamu’s waist and perfectly slotting their lips together, moving with unspoken ease. Suna stands from his seat as he licks into Osamu’s mouth, who responds with a moan and a slight pull to the hair on the back of Suna’s head. Osamu pulls back a little to trail his fingers down the brunette’s well-defined muscles while placing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and neck.
Osamu drops to his knees and slowly pulls down Suna’s zipper with his teeth. He looks up with a grin, “hey, do ya wanna be my plus one?”
——————————
Kiyoomi
Kiyoomi pushes the door open with his hip, the grocery bags containing various cold medicines and Osamu’s tuna onigiri occupying his hands. “You won’t believe–” he stops in his tracks. He was expecting to come home to Atsumu curled up in a blanket like a burrito on the couch surrounded by snotty tissues, groaning about how much his head hurts as if the television isn’t on too loud. Instead, he is shocked to find his fiancée humming in the kitchen, chopping vegetables, healthy as a horse.
“Was it love at first sight? That pastry chef is totally ‘Samu’s type!”
Kiyoomi glares at him as he sets the groceries on the counter, “you’re kidding, right? Did you really pretend to be sick so Osamu would meet a guy? You have no idea what I have endured.”
“He woulda immediately rejected him if I suggested it! It had ta be done. It went well then?”
“Ugh, they’re probably having sex in the bakery’s kitchen right now. I got out of there as quickly as possible. What a health code violation.”