Sitting at the bar, alone, is far from Atsumu’s ideal Friday night.
But Bokuto’s busy, Shoyo has a date, and Omi, well… he didn’t even bother to make an excuse. Some friends they are, especially when he’s going through a breakup.
It does get better, minorly, when you, a pretty stranger, decide to sit in the stool directly to his left. Never mind that the bar is full and the seat next to his is the only free spot.
You’re pretty, dressed in something casual, yet memorable. He’s content to simply sit beside you, fantasizing scenarios in which he charmingly and successfully gets you to join him for a drink and dinner soon, when he hears you.
“So how’s your night going?”
You giggle lightly. He feels his face flush a shade deeper.
“Articulate, aren’t you?”
Atsumu chokes out an awkward chuckle. “I’m usually better than this.”
“Yeah?” You lean further in, propping your chin on your hand.
A moment of silence. Your smile drops. Oh, you’re definitely about to turn to your left and try your luck with the other guy sitting on that side.
“Ok, whatever,” you say. “I’m just gonna come out and ask. Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Uh, no. I’m actually going through a-”
You hold a hand up. “I don’t really wanna hear details. So you’re single? Not seeing someone? Not trying to see someone?”
“Cool. Wanna make out with me? No strings attached, of course.”
“You’re not really doing too hot convincing me that your normal is better than this. Make out.” You gesture, lips puckered. “With me. Just looking for a little fun tonight, you know?”
Yes, he does want to make out with the pretty girl sitting next to him, so charming, he thinks he might’ve fallen in love. But instead, what he says is-
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean it’s not really my things to hook up with someone right when I meet them and I’m going through a fresh breakup…”
You sit back up, swiveling your stool so you’re facing the bar now. “No worries. I don’t wanna pressure someone who’s not down. Have a good night then.”
You turn back to your book, which he didn’t even notice was there. A sip of your drink, knife to the conversation.
Atsumu probably spends a good while racking his head for a way to restart the connection when he hears you order another drink. He keeps his head down, discreetly eavesdropping as you flirt with the bartender.
The bartender rests both arms on the bar to lean closer to you, clearly bewitched. Not that Atsumu doesn’t understand but doesn’t this guy have a job to do? He makes a mental note to write a bad google review later.
“So…” the bartender croons, “I heard your proposition for Blondie over there.”
Excuse him? He’s sitting right here still!
“If he’s not interested-”
Both sets of eyes whip toward him.
“Bro, we both heard you say-”
“Okay, so can’t a guy make a mistake?” He turns to you, voice accusatory. “Guys say things when we’re nervous. I’m nervous, okay? I’ve never been asked to make out with some like you,” he gestures up and down. “I am so interested in making out with you.”
You blink once, twice, before turning to the bartender. “I think I’m done drinking for the night.”
“Put my drinks on blondie’s tab. He’s closing out now.”
Atsumu hardly remembers throwing a couple of bills on the table before you grab his hand, trailing after your tinkling laughter.
“- and that’s how I met your mother.”
“No way she asked you, of all people, at that bar to make out with you.”
”Seems kinda farfetched, Atsumu…”
The MSBY team is gathered in your living room, your one year old son babbling on Atsumu’s lap.
“Hey! No swear words around my son.”
His teammates roll their eyes.
“You’re so full of it. No way that story-”
“What are you guys talking about?” You enter the room with a handful of beers.
“How you and Atsumu met.”
“Oh, you mean how I asked him to make out with me?”