4:40 pm - Osamu Miya
The bell over the door pulls him from the meditative act of cleaning the counter, his thoughts far, far away for a second before they, too, arrive in his little shop.
"Hey!" His mouth pulls into a smile at your sight. "What'cha doing here?"
"Where were you?" You ask, stiffling a snort. "You looked a little high there, for a moment."
"Not high," he grumbles, leaning in for a kiss when you step closer, the counter between you making the small gesture of love all the sweeter. "Just, uh, in the clouds."
"So, high," you conclude, laughing softly. "I got you something, by the way."
"What for?" Osamu hesitates, checking the calendar by the door. "I didn't forget our anniversary, right?"
"Nope," the paper bag crinkles as you drop it on the counter. "You wanna guess?"
Osamu eyes the paper. "Is it something to eat?"
"You can eat it, but I wouldn't advise it. Guess again."
"Is it expensive?"
"Well, I went out of my way to get it custom-made, so, yes, it did cost a pretty penny, but it's not that expensive-" You laugh louder at his exasperation. "I promise you'll like it, I promise."
"I'm gonna come around this counter and tickle the truth out of ya, ya-"
You pull a onesie out of the paper bag and unfold it, holding it up for him to see. "Alright, no reason to pull out the big guns."
Osamu looks. Furrows his brows. "Are you trying to tell me something?"
You blink. "Uh, yes, it's on the Onesie."
"Greatest Uncle in the world? Are ya sleeping with Tsumu? He doesn't even have a girlfriend."
"Oh SHIT!" You turn the onesie around. "No, I got the wrong one. Wait!"
It's there in the paper bag, slipped under the onesie you picked out first, black just like Osamu's uniform, the font white and bold.
"My Daddy owns Onigiri Miya," Osamu reads from the front, and you can tell how his brain stutters to a halt. You turn the onesie so he can read the words on the back, too. "But I choose the menu."
"Yer pregnant?" Osamu asks, his voice breathy and high. "Like, for real?"
"Ding, ding, ding, you guessed right!" You laugh, though your heart is jumping around in your throat like Bokuto on the court. "You like it?"
He pulls you in over the counter instead, kissing your lips, your eyes, the corner of your mouth. "Scared me for a hot second."
You laugh, reliefed and breathless and endlessly happy. "You're just bad at guessing."
@sippn-the-tae
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