Archive of Our Own

"We are all gathered here today..."

Noya spread his hands over the table and leaned against it, invisible weight on his shoulders.

"Because you're the coolest guys I know."

There was a pause. "That's a lie," Daichi deduced, glancing around the table. "Suga's not here. Do you even like me better than Suga?"

"You have a real complex about that, don't cha?" Kuroo asked, tipping back in his chair.

"Suga already knows about this," Noya informed him.

Daichi crossed his arms over his chest. "I knew it."

"But you're so cool Daichi!" Noya insisted with a clench of his fist. "One of the coolest! That is why you have been chosen!"

“Yuu…” Tanaka said, his voice low and hushed. “I just want you to know... that you’re definitely the coolest guy I’ve ever met.”

“Ryuu!”

“Yuu!”

"Wait wait," Iwaizumi said, raising his hand in hopes of halting conversation. "But Asahi isn't here. Isn't he-- by definition-- the coolest guy you know?"

"Yes!" Noya almost shouted in all his excitement. "Asahi is the coolest, and that is one of the reasons I have called for this meeting!"

Iwaizumi sighed, lips curving into a pleased smile as he sank lower in his chair. "I'm so happy you think I'm cooler than Oikawa."

"Oikawa is one of the biggest nerds I've ever met," Kuroo interjected. "He's never been cool."

Iwaizumi eyeballed him from across the table. "Then why are you here?"

Kuroo recoiled as if he'd been shot, hand smacking over his chest.

"Now now boys," Daichi said, leaning his elbows on the table. "I believe Noya had some sort of announcement... or something."

"I have an announcement!" Noya confirmed loudly. "And I have a plan! Thus, I have gathered the coolest people in my life to bring it to fruition!" He leaned forward, chocolate eyes glittering. "It will be rough. It will test your wills, your stamina, your courage."

The eyebrows of the four men climbed upward in unison.

"But I believe--" Noya said, hitting his fist against the table, "-- I believe in you guys, and I know you can do it."

"Alright," Kuroo responded, tipping his chin upward. "So what are we doing?"

“I’m ready Yuu!” Tanaka shouted, half-leaping from his seat in excitement.

Noya grinned. "Well first, you will all be buying matching suits."

There was a collective falling of eyebrows and lips. Tanaka’s battle pose wilted.

"I know I know," Noya said, waving his hands in front of himself. "They're expensive and Daichi will surely need alterations--"

"Wait," Daichi interrupted. "Why am I the only one needing alterations?"

The four of them turned silent gazes upon his face. Daichi blinked.

"This is a butt thing, isn't it."

"And thighs," Kuroo supplied.

"Thank you."

"No," Noya said, "thank you."

Iwaizumi coughed to cover his laugh as Kuroo snorted.

"Anyway, I realize the price. I realize what I'm asking," Noya continued. "But the suits will be used at least twice” -- Noya thrust two fingers forward-- “within a year or so for my request alone."

"This keeps getting weirder," Iwaizumi said with a shake of his head. "Why do we have to wear them twice? Is there an encore?"

Noya shook out his shoulders before standing upright. "The first time will be soon, for my Big Plan."

"Right..."

Noya blinked, crossing his arms over his chest. "And the second time will be for my wedding, where you'll all be my best men."

*

"Are you still pouting?"

Tooru groaned from where he was laying face down on the couch. "I wanted to be invited! Why wasn't I invited?"

Kenma sat down on the floor, placing his tea on the table. "I wasn't either."

Tooru lifted one eye above the couch cushion to stare at Kenma. It looked distressed.

"Do you think Bouncy-kun doesn't like me?"

"I'm not sure," Kenma answered evenly. "Have you ever called him by his name?"

Tooru groaned again. "Everyone loves stupid Iwaizumi. What do you think they're doing? Playing basketball? Tennis?" Then he gasped, loud and affronted. He rose from the couch and whispered, "Volleyball?"

Kenma picked up his phone and flicked through his messenger app. "Given how much Noya enjoyed receiving your serves last time, I doubt it."

Tooru finally plopped normally against the couch and gazed at the ceiling. "What a good game." Then he frowned, "Save for Iwa-chan hacking up a lung toward the end. Damned smoker."

"I felt bad for him," Kenma commented. He then lifted his phone for Tooru's vision. "Look, I asked Koushi what he was up to and he said he's at home reading."

Tooru blinked. "Okay."

Kenma gave him a dead-eyed stare. "That means Noya didn't invite Koushi either. He loves Koushi."

"Ooh," Tooru cooed. He brought his fingers to his chin as he thought. Then he took a sharp inhale, startling Kenma. "He only invited the dark haired ones!"

"What."

"Out of our friend group!" Tooru urged. "He only invited the ones with dark hair!" He scrubbed his hands through his hair and groaned, voice full of lament, "I can't help I was gifted with naturally sun kissed hair; this is unfair!"

"First of all..." Kenma said, setting down his phone so he could pick up his tea. "You're being ridiculous. Second of all..." he touched the part of his hair, "I have dark hair."

Tooru squinted at him harshly. "You are-- by your own volition-- more than fifty percent blonde at this very moment. Your roots don’t count; live with your choices."

Kenma's shoulders hunched and he twirled a tendril around his finger.

"Something is suspicious..." Tooru deduced, peering at the far wall as if it held the answers. "And I intend to find out."

"Given who was invited," Kenma began, shifting in his position on the floor, "they're probably playing basketball or something, and made these plans assuming you'd be working."

Tooru was considering. "Too simple," he decided.

Kenma sighed. "We can ask Hajime and Kuro when they return." He rose, moving to the couch that Tooru was no longer dominating. "Until then, you want to do something other than be wildly suspicious and accusatory of your friends?"

Tooru blinked. "Not really.”

"So if I start up a movie..."

Tooru looked away from Kenma. He chewed on his cheek before begrudgingly speaking. "Can we have popcorn?"

Kenma rose from the couch without complaint. "I'll be right back."

Tooru was already bouncing from the couch, following Kenma to the kitchen. "Can I help? Want me to wash some bowls? Hey do you have any ice cream?"

*

“OH MY GOD!” Tanaka shouted.

“Oh my God,” Kuroo and Iwaizumi crowed together.

“I know,” Nishinoya said, smile split open into the widest and brightest thing Iwaizumi had ever seen. His cheeks were pushed all the way up into his eyes, and they were rosy.

“Noya that’s amazing!” Daichi breathed.

“I know!” Noya said again, but the bliss was bubbling out of him. “We’re in a really good place now with family and finances and I mean--” Noya paused to ruffle his eccentric tufts of hair “-- I’ve known since we first started dating, so…”

“Sap!” Kuroo cawed, lips unwound in a smirk.

“Jeeze,” Iwaizumi exhaled, sitting forward and leaning his elbows on the table. “That’s…” he scratched at his head. “Cute.”

“I’m so happy,” Tanaka was sobbing, having already vaulted over the table and wrapped his arms around Noya. “Asahi deserves the best, and the best,” he hiccuped, “is you!”

“Ryuu!”

“So,” Daichi went on casually, ignoring the tearful exchange across the table. “You haven’t asked him, right?”

“Right!” Noya responded, popping his head above Tanaka’s shoulder. Tanaka released him, and Noya’s feet became reaquainted with the ground. “If I had asked, everyone would know.”

“Yes,” Daichi said with a somewhat wry smile, “I figured.”

“If I had my way,” Noya said, shoving his thumb toward his chest, “I would be perched at the highest point of Mt. Fuji” -- he lifted his hands and spread them wide in the air-- “and on the darkest of nights I would summon lightning to emblazon the sky with the words: ‘MARRY ME’.”

Iwaizumi could swear he heard a crack of thunder.

“That sounds mildly terrifying,” Iwaizumi commented, for the sake of feedback.

“Asahi would never see the proposal,” Daichi said. “He’d be too busy pissing himself.”

“Commanding,” Kuroo said. “Very Zeus-like.”

“‘MARRY ME’--” Noya rewrote in the air with his hands, “-- Question Mark.”

“Much better,” Kuroo approved.

“We still have the issue of Asahi having the spine of a frightened pomeranian,” Daichi said.

“And summoning lightning,” Iwaizumi added.

“Indeed,” Noya agreed. “So in lieu of summoning lightning, I want to do something that will still make lightning strike--” he touched his chest “-- in Asahi’s heart.”

“Jesus God,” Daichi breathed.

“Too much sweet,” Kuroo groaned, leaning over the table, “Going into diabetic shock--”

“So!” Noya clapped. “Are you ready to hear my plan?”

“Please,” Iwaizumi said, motioning to Kuroo. “Before you kill a groomsman.”

“Honestly, Kuroo,” Noya said, clasping his hands together, “your height is a bit of a problem for me.”

Kuroo looked one part confused to two parts pleased.

“But I’ll overlook it. It adds to your Cool Factor.”

“Nice,” Kuroo said, interlocking his fingers behind his head. Daichi made an undignified face at him across the table.

“There are a few elements to my plan, and one of them involves the public.”

Iwaizumi reached into his pocket and shook his pack of cigarettes. One flicked out of the carton and he immediately laid it on his bottom lip.

“Come on Iwa!” Kuroo complained. “You’ve been doing so well!”

“I’m still allowed to have one or two when I’m stressed,” Iwaizumi spoke from around his cigarette, pulling out the lighter. “I’m stressed.” He inhaled, then immediately gusted out a cloud of smoke with a satisfied breath.

“Oi oi,” Tanaka said, waving the smoke away from him. “Don’t taint the table!”

Iwaizumi tipped his head up, inhaled nice and deep, and then spouted the smoke straight into the air above him. “Aah, feels like life and death.”  

“Say, Iwaizumi…” Noya started, peering at him cautiously.

Iwaizumi dropped his eyes back to level with him, a small cloud of smoke puffing from his nose. “Yeah?”

“How crowd-shy are you, exactly?”

*

“I’m home.”

Suga looked up from his book and toward the doorway. “Welcome back.”

Daichi practically fell out of his shoes as he stepped from the entryway, shoulders sagging.

Suga raised his eyebrows. “Daichi?” Daichi sighed in response before traversing the living room and falling heavily onto the couch. Suga smirked. “How was your date with the guys?”

Daichi groaned.

“Oh come on,” Suga said, sliding one arm behind Daichi’s neck and scrunching right next to him on the couch. He pulled his feet onto the cushion and leaned into Daichi. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s not bad, it’s…” Daichi opened his eyes, sliding his gaze to meet Suga’s. “You know everything, right?”

Suga shrugged. “Noya gave me the general plan and bounced ideas off me. He didn’t give me any specifics.” Suga beamed. “I’m the cameraman!”

Daichi’s eyes fell shut. “Of course he’s going to record it.”

“It’s exciting right!?” Suga pressed in close to him. He couldn’t help but smile about it all. “Our best friends are going to be getting married!”

“Yeah…” There was a pause and then Daichi shifted, looping his arms around Suga and pressing his face into his chest.

Suga eyed him carefully. “Don’t get weird about this, Daichi.”

“I’m not,” he defended into Suga’s shirt.

Suga pursed his lips. “You are.”

Another pause. “It’s just…” Here we go. “I should have asked you so long ago…”

“Daichi.”

Daichi lifted his eyes from Suga’s t-shirt and looked up at him. “You know I… you and forever are…”

Suga placed a hand over Daichi’s eyes. He could feel waves of heat rolling down his body and making his skin burn. “Yes,” he answered evenly anyway. “It’s not a competition.”

Daichi pressed his face back into Suga’s shirt and squeezed him tightly. “I just feel guilty…”

Suga rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you feel guilty about something so ridiculous. How do you live your life being responsible for every single thing in the world?”

“Painfully,” Daichi answered. “And with lots of shoulder workouts.”

Suga chuckled. “Well maybe you should stop. Not the shoulder workouts; I like those.”

Daichi lifted his head with a playful quirk of his eyebrow. “Oh? Would you like me to put them to good use?”

“Maybe,” Suga answered, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Daichi’s mouth.

“Mmm…” Daichi hummed, gently pressing into Suga until he was falling backward on the couch. “I could do some… pushups?” Daichi sank down over Suga, fitting their mouths together. Suga inhaled his kiss. He smelled like warm skin and fresh aftershave, and he tasted like his Daichi. Then Daichi lifted away, popping into pushup position. He grinned.

“What about some…” Suga’s fingers ran up Daichi’s arms and over his shoulders, pressing down against his shoulder blades. “Low planks?”

Daichi lowered again and held it there, kissing underneath Suga’s chin. Suga trailed his nails over the bunched muscles and sighed his appreciation. Daichi pushed away from his again.

“Too easy,” he decided. “I have to make you work for it.”

Suga yanked on the collar of Daichi’s shirt, but instead of bringing him into a hard and bruising kiss he made Daichi’s hand slip, and when he went tumbling off the couch Suga’s tight grip ensured he followed.

“Unf,” was Suga’s eloquent reaction to knocking their heads and knees together. He followed it with bubbling laughter.

“Greedy,” Daichi said through his own chuckle, pulling Suga close. “See what you get for being greedy.”

Suga wrapped his arms around Daichi’s neck and kissed him. I got to be closer, he thought to himself.

‘You and forever are…’

Suga kissed him harder.

*

“Honeys, we’re home.”

There was a small yelp and a fling of popcorn that flew into the view of the entryway. Kuroo and Iwaizumi pursed their lips.

“Welcome back,” Kenma’s unperturbed voice responded.

“Aliens?” Kuroo asked as he stepped on the backs of his sneakers to loose them from his feet.

“Zombies,” Kenma responded. Iwaizumi sighed, digging into his pocket before slapping a 1000 yen bill into Kuroo’s palm. He smirked.

Oikawa had turned fully on the couch, peering over it with accusing eyes. “How was your date?” he asked, eyes narrowing on the two of them. In the dark of the living room his eyes were black and beady, a nocturnal predator prepared to strike.

“Good,” Iwaizumi answered.

“We played some basketball and then got some drinks,” Kuroo embellished.

“Lies!” Oikawa decided immediately.

Kuroo lifted his hands in confusion. “We’re not lying!”

“Yes you are,” Kenma said calmly, gaze focused on his phone.

Oikawa stood, and Iwaizumi was apt to flinch at the severity of his expression. “It was volleyball, wasn’t it!?”

“No,” Iwaizumi and Kuroo answered together, incredulous.

“What is wrong with you?” Iwaizumi followed up. “Why would they ever invite me to play volleyball and not you?”

Oikawa flicked his hair out of his face before shifting his weight onto one hip. “Because I’m too good.”

Iwaizumi slowly closed his eyes in hopes that they wouldn’t roll out of his head.

“Ohoo? You really think so?” Kuroo leaned forward, lips twisted into a taunt. “As if.”

Oikawa snorted. “Heads and shoulders above the others.”

“Tooru, you’re forgetting two things.” Kenma’s eyes slid up from his phone, gold flashing in the dark. “One: Kuro and I beat you last time.”

Iwaizumi shouldn’t have been snickering, but he was.

“And two:--” his gaze moved to meet Kuroo and Iwaizumi once more, “-- Those two are still lying.”

Well shit.

Oikawa heaved a sigh. “You’re right, Kenma.” He thrust his finger at Iwaizumi. “Tell me the truth!”

“Listen,” Kuroo said, raising his hands and stepping in front of Iwaizumi as if to shield a gunshot. “This isn’t anything we’re keeping from you because we want to keep it from you.”

“It’s for Noya,” Iwaizumi spoke around his shoulder. He could barely see over it. Noya was right; his height was a bit infuriating.

Oikawa squinted at them. “For Bouncy-kun?”

“It’s…” Kuroo’s hands flailed. “There’s a surprise thing going on, and it’s better if more people are surprised. Okay?”

Oikawa’s shoulders seemed to relax at this. Iwaizumi was half grateful and half envious, as he felt that any attempts he made to reassure Oikawa would have ended in failure.

“I like surprises,” Oikawa pouted.

“I know,” Kuroo said.

“But I like knowing things,” he continued.

Kuroo nodded. “I know.”

“Knowing that a surprise exists but not what the surprise is is like the worst thing!”

Kuroo closed the distance between him and Oikawa, put a single hand on his shoulder, and hung his head. “I’m sorry buddy.”

Iwaizumi and Kenma exchanged matching flat stares.

“You know,” Kenma spoke up, turning back toward Kuroo. “We were in the middle of watching someone get eaten.” He gestured to the TV, to where Kuroo and Iwaizumi both turned their attention and impulsively flinched.

Oikawa beamed. “And not in the sexy way.”

Iwaizumi rubbed at his temples.

“Do you want to join us?” Kenma asked. “We have green tea ice cream, Hajime.”

“Meh,” Iwaizumi said, shrugging his shoulders before turning toward the kitchen. “What are nightmares in the face of ice cream.”

Kuroo followed him, leaning on his own fridge as Iwaizumi dug through it.

“He has a delicate mind,” Oikawa was not-whispering in the living room. “Zombie movies give him bad dreams.”

“I can hear you,” Iwaizumi said, ripping a small carton of ice cream from the freezer.

“Zombies specifically?” Kuroo asked. “You’re not bothered by monsters or vampires or…?”

“Yeah, I don’t know.” Iwaizumi grabbed a bowl before popping off the lid to the ice cream. “I think it’s the lack of control thing? Like your body is still walking around doing shit after you’re dead.”

“Hmm.”

“Also flesh eating? Just generally nasty.”

“Sure.”

“Can you two hurry up?” Oikawa called. “This zombie has a man to eat.”

Iwaizumi pantomimed smacking Oikawa in the head with his spoon. Kuroo snickered.

“Are you gonna tell him?” Kuroo asked in a lower register.

Iwaizumi put the ice cream back in the freezer and turned toward the living room. “Not if I can help it.”

*

There was a gentle knock on Daichi’s door.

He lifted his head and smiled. Iwaizumi was leaning heavily against the door frame. He looked like a puppet who’d been lazily hung by its master-- shoulders wilted, body slanted to the side, head leaning against the wall.

“Afternoon,” Daichi said, already bending over to key open the bottom drawer of his desk.

“Evening,” Iwaizumi corrected, sliding past the doorway and taking a few steps into the office.

“Oh, so you do have a concept of time while at work,” Daichi teased. The drawer rattled open as Iwaizumi flopped into a seat.

“It’s a newly acquired trait.”

“I see.”

Daichi withdrew a bottle of whiskey from his desk before reaching down to grab two glasses.

“Such a good man,” Iwaizumi commented.

“Always have to be ready to save my boss,” Daichi said, smiling without looking at him.

A rough chuckle sounded from across the desk. “So… we’re doin’ this thing, huh.”

Daichi clinked the glasses onto the desk and began pouring. “I suppose we are.”

There was silence as Daichi pushed Iwaizumi’s drink toward him, tipped their glasses together, and took a long swig. They both sighed past the burn, glasses still in hand.

“I’m kind of worried about how Oikawa will react,” Iwaizumi said after a time, staring blankly over Daichi’s shoulder.

“Hm?” Daichi asked, blinking over the rim of his glass. “Worried he’ll be on you to propose?”

“No,” Iwaizumi answered dryly. “I’m worried he’ll get overzealous and propose to me before I can propose to him.” He brought the glass to his lips and spoke against it, “Little shit.”

Daichi laughed loud and full-bodied. “That’s a definite concern. With Suga as well. Although…” He shrugged. “Suga is less influenced by outside forces. He’s a schemer so…” Daichi’s eyes slid to the side. “I more have to worry about how suddenly he’ll strike.”

“Yeah, and he’ll probably enlist Noya. It’s bound to be--” he raised his eyebrows “-- electrifying.”

Daichi chuckled as he shook his head. “Noya is something else. ‘I would stand at the peak of Mount Fuji’...”

“He’s passionate,” Iwaizumi said with a grin wider than his usual.

“Have you thought about it?” Daichi asked.

“Hm? Thought about what?”

Daichi leaned back in his seat. “Asking Oikawa to marry you.”

Iwaizumi shifted. “Well, yeah.” He looked into his glass. “Quite a bit.”

Daichi sipped at his drink. “What would you do?”

Iwaizumi sighed. “Well, I fucked myself over.” Daichi almost spit his whiskey as Iwaizumi continued. “I told him I loved him during a meteor shower--”

“Yes,” Daichi said, leaning forward. “As Oikawa has told us.” He cleared his throat. “Numerous times.”

Iwaizumi was exasperated. “Yeah well, now I have to top that shit.” He looked to Daichi with concern on his face. “How?”

Daichi held up his hands. “Don’t ask me; you’re the romantic one here.”

Iwaizumi groaned.

“So you have no ideas?”

“Well… there’s this one place.” Iwaizumi ran his hand over his face. “It’s the world’s largest salt flat.”

“... Salt flat.”

“Mm. The ground’s incredibly flat and the skies are crystal clear.”

“Yeah?”

“And it--” Iwaizumi was waving his hand in front of himself, motioning toward nonexistent ground “-- when it rains, the water sits on the ground like a mirror. It perfectly reflects the sky.” Iwaizumi’s eyes were far off. Daichi almost smiled. “At night it looks like you’re standing on stars. And you’re surrounded by them.” He heaved a sigh. “It’s the closest I can get to proposing to Tooru in space.”

“Jesus Christ,” Daichi breathed, taking a very long, very hard swallow of whiskey. “Sounds good to me.”

Iwaizumi gave him a dry look across the desk. “It’s in Bolivia.”

Daichi started coughing. “Well… okay,” he said once he’d recovered. “I can see how that might be a problem.”

Iwaizumi leaned forward, squinting into Daichi’s face. “And he’ll know,” he sneered. “The moment I say ‘hey let’s go to another country’, he’ll know.”

Daichi shrugged. “Pretend like you’ll be breaking up with him. Worked last time.”

Iwaizumi picked up a pen and threw it at him.

Daichi laughed as he deflected it off his forearm. “Sorry man, I don’t know how to help you.”  

“And?”

“And what?”

Iwaizumi gave him a dubious look. “What about Suga? Have you thought about it?”

“Well yeah, but…” Daichi’s eyes slid away to rest heavily on his desk. “I can’t think of anything, or anything worth Suga’s time.” He shot a resentful look at Iwaizumi. “I certainly haven’t devised a trip to another country.”

Iwaizumi shrugged.

Daichi leaned his elbows on his desk. “I don’t know…”

“Well,” Iwaizumi broke in, tipping his gaze to look past the hang of Daichi’s head. “How would you want Suga to? You’ve thought about that too, right?”

He had. Daichi considered it again, now. What his favorite things were, his favorite moments. All that flooded his mind were memories-- Suga leaning over a cafe table to whisper close to his face, Suga smiling a coy smile through the steam of their coffee as they stood around the office, only to later pin him to the desk, kissing him hard… Suga beaming in the morning with his hair a mess, smile sun-bright and unstoppable. Suga could have whispered the words to him in any one of those moments, pressed a ring into his hand or unveiled it from beneath the covers; there would have been nothing more perfect or beautiful, not to Daichi.

He swallowed. “I… wouldn’t care how or when.” Daichi blinked, and he knew his face was red. He felt like he’d suddenly been thrust into summer heat. “I would just care that he’d asked.”

He didn’t looked at Iwaizumi for awhile. They drank in silence, which was fine.

“Suga probably feels the same, you know.” Daichi turned his eyes to Iwaizumi, who was smirking. Gently. “I think we’re all on the same page with that.”

Daichi smiled. “Yeah. Maybe.”

*

“Iwa-chan.”

“Mm.”

Oikawa’s arms wound around Iwaizumi’s waist. “Morning.”

Iwaizumi nudged closer to him, happy to feel Oikawa’s chest at his back. “Morning.”

He opened his eyes just enough to see the bright yellow of the sun streaming through their window. There was something about this particular part of morning that Iwaizumi adored. Bundled in a too-fluffy comforter with too-fluffy pillows and a too-happy boyfriend humming nonsensical tunes against his neck. The light from the sunroof cast a perfectly angled beam over their chests. It made the white of the blankets bright; it made Iwaizumi squint.

“It’s like living in clouds,” Iwaizumi mumbled, sinking his face lower so he could dissolve beneath the covers.

“Aww,” Oikawa cooed. “You’re so sappy.”

“Not because of you,” Iwaizumi retorted, shifting so he could shove Oikawa’s head back into the blankets. He yelped. “Because of these damned blankets.” Iwaizumi flapped his arms. “I’m swimming in them.”

Oikawa peered through the part in his hair, which was an honest-to-God disaster on top of his head. “Then why are you always smiling in your sleep?”

“Because you’re finally quiet. Next question.”

Oikawa pounced on him, the comforter making an overzealous whooshing sound beneath his weight.

He kissed under Iwaizumi’s chin and Iwaizumi smiled in spite of himself.

“Prickly,” Oikawa said, kissing it again.

“We can’t all be gifted with forever baby faces.” Oikawa kissed lower on Iwaizumi’s throat and he hummed. “By the way, Oikawa.”

“Hm?”

“I have to do some stuff tonight. And for the next few nights. Just for a little bit, though.”

“For Noya?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause. Iwaizumi was just opening his eyes when Oikawa spoke, “Say, Iwa-chan…”

Iwaizumi blinked at him. The mess of his hair almost made Iwaizumi laugh, but he steeled himself. He didn’t wanna spook him.

“Whatever he’s having you do… you’re okay with it?” Iwaizumi furrowed his brow and Oikawa narrowed his eyes, watching him carefully. “Your coat smelled like smoke at Kenma’s yesterday, so I thought…”

Iwaizumi smiled fondly. “It’s fine.”

Oikawa’s eyes flitted around Iwaizumi’s face. Looking for truth, looking for lies. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Oikawa leaned forward, smile breaking apart his face. He was properly convinced. “Can you tell me now?”

“No. It’s a secret.”

“You know what I miss?” Oikawa asked, pressing a kiss to the corner of Iwaizumi’s mouth. He spoke the next sentence in whispers over his skin: “Being your secret.”

Iwaizumi scoffed. “You were never a secret. Everyone knew.”

Oikawa tipped his head to the side, landing his kiss right on Iwaizumi’s lips this time. It was soft. “You were secretly in love with me,” he prodded, voice devious and playful.

“Like I said--” Iwaizumi leaned forward, fitting his mouth to Oikawa’s. “-- not a secret.” His voice was still a bit rough with lingering sleep.

Oikawa kissed him deeper this time, trailing his tongue over Iwaizumi’s bottom lip. When Iwaizumi opened his mouth for him, Oikawa rocked his hips against Iwaizumi’s own.

“Mmm,” Iwaizumi almost growled, his blood flaring hot in his veins. “That kinda morning?”

Oikawa took his bottom lip, kissed him once, twice. His hips continued to gyrate, the friction of their lengths scraping against each other striking each other flint-hot. “That kinda morning,” he purred.

“Ah--” Iwaizumi breathed against Oikawa’s mouth. He smirked. “What kinda angel are you, desecrating the clouds this way?”

Oikawa grinned, lips sliding over the flesh of Iwaizumi’s throat and up to the shell of his ear. “The naughty kind,” he informed him before taking his earlobe into his mouth.

Iwaizumi’s hands fluttered downward, grabbing at Oikawa’s hips and squeezing into the muscle.

They moved together, breaths spilling in and out of each other’s mouths, quiet and appreciative. Eventually the breaths came faster, hands bunched in covers, eyes closed in favor of sensations. They clung together as they spilled between each other, quiet and appreciative.

*

“Just a couple more.”

Kuroo kept his hands steady under the bar as Daichi shoved it upward, chest heaving.

“Breathe,” Kuroo instructed as Daichi lowered it again. Sweat rolled off his forehead, and Daichi’s arms stalled above his chest. “C’mon,” Kuroo cawed at him, all the while his fingers nestled snugly under the bar, ready to aid him.

Breath hissed from Daichi’s mouth as he gave one final push, and the bar lifted in his palms. “Knew it,” Kuroo told him. “I didn’t raise no quitter.”

The bar slammed into the rack above Daichi’s head, lightly shaking the bench. He dropped his arms. “Whew,” was his only comment before blindly reaching for his towel. Kuroo slapped it into his hand.

“You’ll beat your previous one rep max in a couple weeks at this rate.”

Daichi lurched into a proper sit on the bench press machine, wiping at his face with the towel. “That’s the most intense set I’ve done yet,” he spoke into the cloth.

“Feels good right?” Kuroo prodded, smacking at Daichi’s back with his own towel.

“I mean--” Daichi dropped his arms into his lap, shoulders slumped. His breathing was still strained. “-- It feels like overcoming death.”

“Good man,” Kuroo said, doing a quick sweep of the interior of the gym. “Whaddaya think about tomorrow?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Wanna do a leg-day battle?”

Daichi eyed him doubtfully. “You always lose leg-day.”

“Every day is a new beginning!” Kuroo said, dipping into some quick squats in place. “One day I will best those monster thighs of yours.”

“You can keep trying,” Daichi said with a low chuckle. “But actually I was thinking about just maintenance and toning for the next couple of weeks. For my legs, anyway.”

Kuroo slowly rose back to full height and set his chin in his fingers. He stared at Daichi with discerning eyes.

“... what?”

Kuroo narrowed his gaze. “This is about the suits.”

Daichi’s head rolled back on his shoulders.

“It is!”

Daichi lurched back forward. “I just--”

“C’mon man,” Kuroo said, waving him off. “You know when we give you shit about your lower body it’s all complimentary, right?”

“Well, yeah, I know that, I just--”

“I mean,” Kuroo interrupted, leaning on the rack next to Daichi. “What is foreplay even like in your house? Do you just--” Kuroo moved into a low lunge, “-- ‘Honey,’” -- he said in a low voice as he lifted his eyebrows-- “‘I’m home.’”

Daichi covered his face and made an uncategorized noise.

“Maybe,” Kuroo said, twisting his hips toward Daichi, “just a little hip flexing action.” He gave a few small hip thrusts.

“I can’t--” Daichi groaned into his hands through hiccuping laughter.

“If I know Suga-- and I think I do--” Kuroo popped into a proper standing position, “-- that’s all it takes.”

Daichi’s face was stop-sign crimson. “Well…”

Kuroo shook his head. “Knew it. A thigh feasting animal, that one.”

Daichi’s head went back to being buried. Daichi was invulnerable to pretty much everything… save for compliments. Kuroo couldn’t help but strike when the opportunity presented itself.

Daichi smacked his knees and lifted his head. “It’s not like I don’t take… complete satisfaction from everyone’s comments about my lower body, it’s just…” Kuroo gave a hyperbolic tilt of his head to signify his utmost attention on Daichi’s words.

“I just like where I am right now?” Daichi continued, shuffling his feet against the floor. “So I just want to… sculpt… and maintain. For now, at least.”

“You are already sculpted, my man, but,” Kuroo gave him a hard smack on the shoulder. “I understand. I’ll adjust your regimen accordingly.”

“Thanks.”

“And plus,” Kuroo went on, winging his towel over his shoulder, “now I have a chance to catch up.”

Daichi almost spat his laughter. “You can try.”

Kuroo dipped down in his face. “Oh you just wait, ThighMaster. A new leg champion is in town.”

“Oh right,” Daichi said, bringing his water bottle to his face. “Iwaizumi.”

Kuroo gasped and pressed his hand to his chest.

“Speaking of,” Daichi cut into Kuroo’s outrage. “How did that go last night? You tell Kenma?”

“Of course not,” Kuroo said. “I’m a gentleman.”

“I don’t believe you,” Daichi responded simply. “You tell Kenma everything.”

“Well, true, but you want to know a secret?”

Daichi raised his eyebrows.

Kuroo smiled. “Kenma doesn’t give a shit.”

“Ah.”

“I think more than anything he enjoys quietly observing all the stupidity from the outside… like a sober person laughing at the antics of their drunk friends.”

“Kenma does seem that way.”

“Although…” Kuroo leaned back on the rack and buried his face in his arms. “I want to tell him so bad.”

“Jesus.”

“How can I talk about all the stupidity if he doesn’t know what’s going on!?”

“Aren’t you lucky? I bet Oikawa is up Iwaizumi’s ass about the whole thing.”

Kuroo lifted his water bottle to his mouth and smirked before taking a sip. “Phrasing.”

Daichi rolled his eyes. “It’s like talking to a twelve year old.”

“I know; it’s one of my charm points.”

“You sure about that?”

“Oikawa was pouty last night but he seemed… relatively calm,” Kuroo continued without pause. “Maybe he’ll give poor Iwa a break.”

There was a pause as they both considered. “Probably not,” they decided together.

“Oh, and we shouldn’t work too hard today,” Kuroo said, leaning forward and grinning. Daichi gave him a confused look, but when comprehension broke over his features, he groaned.

“This is going to be terrible,” he said.

Kuroo’s smile had stretched wide enough to hurt his face. “I think it’s going to be terrific.”

*

Iwaizumi shuffled his feet against the linoleum. A small grunt left his throat as he tapped his heel to the floor.

Kuroo turned around, eyebrows already raised high.

“Before you say anything smart,” -- Iwaizumi said, still looking down at his feet-- “I’m having trouble with that one section.”

“Me? Say something smart? Never.”

“Exactly,” Iwaizumi said to the ground, lips pursed.

“So which part?”

“That first jivey part, you know dundundun duun, dunun, dunun…”

“How was that again?”

“Dundundu-- shut up!” Iwaizumi glared as Kuroo cackled. “You know what I’m talking about!”

“Okay okay, just hold on.” Kuroo rounded Iwaizumi in the kitchen, lining up their bodies. “Here,” he said once he was firmly stationed on Iwaizumi’s right side. “So after the first breakdown?”

“Yeah. That’s the spot.”

“How could I not know when you performed such an excellent rendition?”

“Shut it.”

“Okay, so,” Kuroo and Iwaizumi tilted their bodies a bit to the side. “One two three four--”

They shifted their weight from foot to foot in a unified rhythm before stepping to the right, one, two, three, lift the hand to grab at the--

“Your steps are too big.”

“What?” Iwaizumi paused.

“Your steps--” Kuroo pointed at Iwaizumi’s feet. “They’re too wide. You’re intruding on my space.”

“I am not intruding on your space.”

“Iwa.”

“Tetsu.”

Kuroo held up his hands. “Fine, I’ll prove it to you.” He walked over to the kitchen entryway and pointed at the floor. “Here. Where the hardwood meets linoleum. It’s our line.”

Iwaizumi was staring at him, face flat. “Line for what.”

“To measure your Godzilla steps.”

Iwaizumi heaved a heavy sigh but trudged over there nonetheless. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m not.”

Iwaizumi glared at him from the corner of his eye.

“Okay now measure your steps. We’ll start from the same place.” Iwaizumi nodded. “One two three--”

On four they moved again, weight shifts, step step st--

“I’m taking huge steps,” Iwaizumi said, stopping mid-movement.

Kuroo grinned. “Told ya so.” He practically sang the words. He was around Oikawa too much.

“Okay okay,” Iwaizumi said. “So I’ll take smaller steps. But it’s that turn sequence and after that’s messing me up.”

“Alright; from the top Godzilla Feet.”

Iwaizumi sighed the count for them: “One two three--”

Iwaizumi kept his steps smaller this time, and when he crossed into the living room it was fluid, without intruding on Kuroo’s space. He reached for the invisible prop atop his head, started to move into a turn, and then his elbows got all over the place and jabbed Kuroo in the side.

“My bad,” Iwaizumi said as Kuroo made a small wheezing noise. He giggled. Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes, “What is wrong with you.”

“What?” Kuroo asked, turning his eyes innocently toward Iwaizumi. “That tickled.”

“I put the hat back on at the end of the turn… right?”

“Right,” Kuroo answered, shaking away his giggles.

“And then we have to like…lean on each other? What’s after that?”

“The pelvic thrusts.”

Iwaizumi groaned. “God, that’s right.” He ran his hands down his face. “Why is there pelvic thrusting?”

Kuroo held up his arms like it was obvious. “You have five attractive gay men performing in a line. Why wouldn’t there be pelvic thrusting?”

Iwaizumi considered this. “Well when you put it that way…”

“It’s our burden,” Kuroo said, placing his hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “As attractive gay men.”

“Mnottractive.”

Kuroo cocked his head at Iwaizumi. “What was that?”

“Nothing. Let’s thrust.”

“If you just insulted your level of attractiveness I’m gonna punch you in the arm.”

“You’ll hurt yourself again.”

“Iwa,” Kuroo said, looping his arm over Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Just think of it this way: Oikawa would never consistently bang a dude who was anything less than a 10.”

Iwaizumi blinked slowly. “That… does make me feel better, actually.”

“You really need to think more highly of yourself, dude.”

“Thanks… I think.”

“Now that we’re both re-aware that you’re hot,” Kuroo said, clapping his hands together. “How about we go from the top. Get past the pelvic thrusting.”

“Fine.”

They counted down again, restarting their jive. By the end of the step sequence they were in the entryway, performing for the front door. It was hard to know what to do with fingers and elbows while moving a nonexistent hat. Iwaizumi imagined placing it back onto his head as he ended the slow turn; he kept his elbows in. When he let go of the “hat” he dropped his elbow to Kuroo’s shoulder. Kuroo’s left arm effortlessly slid behind him, resting on his shoulder blade. Iwaizumi would have to do the same thing to Daichi-- he should study. They then rocked their hips forward, a unified swing of pelvises to a beat they only heard in their heads. The front door opened.

Iwaizumi and Kuroo froze, hips thrust forward in parallel lines and angles.

Kenma and Suga stood in the doorway, faces altogether unmoving. Iwaizumi didn’t have words. He wished he did, but he didn’t.

Suga lifted his phone, tapped his thumb, and a shuttersound filled the entryway.

*

“WHAT IS THIS!?”

Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes shut before even getting out of his shoes.

Oikawa barreled into the living room, phone held in the palm he had thrust in Iwaizumi’s face.

Iwaizumi didn’t want to open his eyes. He knew what shame would await him on Oikawa’s screen, and he was desperate to escape it.

And yet.

Iwaizumi’s eyelids squinted open-- just a crack. “A--hah,” he tried, seeing exactly what he knew he would. “You see--”

“I see you pelvic thrusting on my phone screen!” Oikawa squawked, jamming his finger against the screen for emphasis. This prompted Oikawa’s phone to blow up the picture, zooming in very precisely on Iwaizumi’s crotch.

“Tooru--”

“Don’t ‘Tooru’ me!” Oikawa retorted, snatching his phone back toward his chest.

“You know I can’t tell you,” Iwaizumi said, arms flopping heavily at his sides. Oikawa was chewing on his bottom lip. “My um…” he coughed. “My pelvis belongs to you?”

Oikawa looked at him like he was the dumbest thing he’d ever seen. He might not be wrong. “I know your pelvis belongs to me, idiot.”

Iwaizumi hung his head. He still had one shoe on.

“I just…”

His head lifted. Oikawa was staring at the wall next to the entryway, not looking at anything in particular.

Finally he shifted his weight and brought his eyes back to Iwaizumi’s face. “You never dance with me.”

There was a silence. It was long. “I don’t dance,” Iwaizumi eventually said.

Oikawa angrily pointed at the large crotch still lighting up his phone screen.

“That’s--”

“Dancing,” Oikawa finished for him. “There’s even another pelvis next to yours!”

“That’s Kuroo’s pelvis,” Iwaizumi explained rationally. “Kuroo’s pelvis doesn’t count.”

Oikawa leered at him. “That’s not what you said when you found out Kuroo and I had--”

Iwaizumi fully turned around, leaned forward, and banged his head against the door.

Oikawa grabbed at his wrist. “I miss you, and you’re keeping secrets from me, and I’m just going with the flow-- aren’t I good? Don’t I deserve to dance with you?” He tugged Iwaizumi until he was facing him again.

“You’re manipulative,” Iwaizumi answered dryly.

Oikawa shrugged one shoulder. He looked a little proud of it.   

Iwaizumi brightened, suddenly holding up a finger. “Oh, but we have danced! Remember?” Oikawa was furrowing his brow, so Iwaizumi grabbed at his belt loops and pulled him closer. “That night we went to the club?” Iwaizumi prompted, trailing off. He inhaled the scent of Oikawa’s neck as he fit their bodies together. “I got a little drunk…”

“Mmm.” The heat in Oikawa’s purr told Iwaizumi he was beginning to recall. His eyelashes fluttered, shade for the dark chocolate of his irises. “I do remember… you pulled me real close--” Oikawa pulled their hips together and lifted his chin so that breath ghosted over Iwaizumi’s ear. “-- grinded against me…”

“Mhm,” Iwaizumi responded, pressing a soft kiss to Oikawa’s throat. He spoke against his flesh, “Then we came home…”

Oikawa’s head tipped back on his neck. “That was… a good night.”

“Very good,” Iwaizumi agreed.

Oikawa’s hand crawled up Iwaizumi’s back and over his neck. His fingers slid into his hair. “But Iwa-chan… one time…”

“Oikawa…” Iwaizumi said, his voice a rumble. “I’m too self conscious to dirty dance with you in the apartment.”

Oikawa’s eyes grew wide. “It doesn’t have to be dirty!”

Iwaizumi tilted his head.

“It doesn’t have to be dirty,” Oikawa repeated, tugging at Iwaizumi’s shirt. “So just… dance with me?”

Iwaizumi considered him for a moment. “Would that make you feel better about all this?”

Oikawa nodded at him, doe-eyed.

“Okay,” he said, pulling out of Oikawa’s grasp. “Just give me a second, alright?” He finally stepped out of his other shoe and past Oikawa to the bedroom. Oikawa’s eyes were sparkling.

Oikawa was transparent, and he was manipulative, but that didn’t make him wrong. Iwaizumi was quite proud of how infuriating he hadn’t been concerning all the secrecy. Iwaizumi would never tell him that, but he could reward him.

Oikawa twiddled his thumbs in the living room.

He had won this night… why did he still feel antsy? Oikawa glanced across the living room to the bedroom. Iwa-chan was keeping secrets-- safe secrets, Oikawa knew that-- but it still drove Oikawa up a wall. Oikawa was working late almost every night while Iwaizumi was off doing God-knows-what.

Pelvic thrusting, apparently.

Oikawa pulled up the picture on his phone and gave it another good stare. He had to thank Suga later.

“Okay,” Iwaizumi said, re-entering the living room. Oikawa sprung into an immediate upright position. He had changed into more casual clothes, ditching his buttondown and business casual pants for khakis and a t-shirt.

He was standing in a broad beam of sunlight with one hand outstretched. Oikawa cleared his throat and walked up to him, stopping just in front of Iwaizumi’s chest.

Oikawa shook out his shoulders. “Where do I put my hands?”

There was another silence.

“Earth to Iwa-chan,” Oikawa tried, reaching up to knock against his forehead.

Iwaizumi batted him away on reflex. “You don’t know where to put your hands?”

“I don’t know anything, okay!?” Oikawa barked at him. “Stop being rude and help me, jerk!”

Iwaizumi dipped his head before taking a step forward and grabbing hold of Oikawa’s right hand. It took Oikawa a moment, but he eventually realized Iwaizumi had hidden a smile in that dip of his head. He put his other hand on Oikawa’s lower back, near his spine.

“Put yours on my shoulder,” he directed.

Oikawa did as he was told, lifting his arm to rest it along the line of Iwaizumi’s shoulders.

Then they started moving, Iwaizumi’s body coercing him forward. Oikawa stumbled after him for the first step or two, but Iwaizumi didn’t say anything. Even as Oikawa chirped in surprise. Even as his face flared red with embarrassment.

"I can't believe I have to be the one to lead,” Iwaizumi mumbled after a time.  

Soft steps fell on carpet, pressed down by socked feet. Oikawa slipped his fingers between Iwaizumi's, fitting into the warmth of his knuckles.

Oikawa's voice came out softer than he intended. "I never had time to learn..." He glanced down at his feet, at the white of cotton on the white of carpet.

"Don't look at your feet," Iwaizumi lightly tugged at Oikawa's hand, and the fingers he had resting on Oikawa's lower back tensed. When Oikawa's blinked back up at him, Iwaizumi's mouth was curled into a soft smile, "Just follow my lead. You don't need to look." He pressed more firmly against Oikawa's spine, but there was still tenderness in his touch. When he took a step forward Oikawa stepped back, still clumsy.

Iwaizumi chuckled as Oikawa frowned. "I'm no good," Oikawa commented.

Iwaizumi's hands pulled him to the left, and Oikawa's feet followed without thought.

"You're fine," Iwaizumi said, not looking at him but still smiling.

Warmth spread over Oikawa’s cheeks. His own lips were curling upward without his consent, and he gave a small sigh, closing his eyes.

Iwaizumi's lead was a gentle one, small steps and shirts brushing together, too close to be proper form. Iwa-chan was a bad instructor…

But a perfect partner.

The curtains fluttered in the breeze tumbling through screen door. Oikawa could taste spring on his tongue, the freed air that blew through cloudless skies and over wide open places.

"See?" Iwaizumi's voice was nothing but a small rumble in his chest. "You're doing great."

"You're good enough to make up for me," Oikawa responded simply, voice still low.

There was a silence, and Iwaizumi's fingers twitched a bit tighter around Oikawa's.

“I feel…” Oikawa bit at his lip. He didn’t want to say it.

“Left out?” Iwaizumi asked.

Oikawa looked away from him.

“I don’t want you to feel left out,” Iwaizumi said. It almost felt too intimate-- Iwa-chan holding him close and swaying with him, staring right through his skin at his thoughts.

“I know you don’t, but…” Oikawa trailed off. The rest of the sentence didn’t need to be said. Iwaizumi was looking past him, thinking.

“You know every one of us love you--”

Oikawa shook his head, almost violently. “I… even if you say that--”

“Tooru.”

Oikawa ignored him. “I know my personality can be bad; people told me all the time you know? And I felt power in that, but now it feels like… like it’s finally come to have consequences that upset me.”

Iwaizumi chuckled, dropping his head.

“Don't laugh--”

“You’re thinking so much about this,” Iwaizumi interrupted him. “Too much. Way too much. It’s nothing like what you’re thinking.”

Oikawa sighed. “I guess I just can’t understand.”

Iwaizumi squeezed him tighter. “You will. But hey, you know that Suga isn’t involved, right? Noya definitely likes Suga more than me. So how do you explain that?”

Oikawa was quiet. “Kenma mentioned something like that, but…”

“And what have we discovered?” Iwaizumi asked, tipping his head to invade Oikawa’s vision.

Oikawa almost groaned. “That Kenma’s always right…” Iwaizumi spoke the last words with him. Then he smiled.

“Do you trust me?”

Oikawa gave him a slow blink. He felt wholly open. “Yes. More than anything.”

“Okay,” Iwaizumi said, straightening with a soft smile. “Then please trust me.”

Oikawa pressed his head into Iwaizumi’s neck. Of course, that was always the answer.

They swayed together in the bright quiet. Oikawa heard their footsteps, just barely, padding small circles across their living room. He could taste the clean air, a freshness and hopefulness that felt everlasting-- and the faint scent of Iwaizumi's cologne, gentle notes that filled Oikawa's head with memories. The warmth of their clasped hands, the barely-there sensation of Iwaizumi's pulse against Oikawa's fingertips-- they all tangled together, a slow twirl of multiple sensations into a singular feeling.

Oikawa tipped his head down, lips ghosting over Iwaizumi's neck.

It felt like forever.

"I love you," Oikawa said.

Iwaizumi tilted his head, mouth moving against Oikawa's hair, "I love you more."

"Sap," Oikawa chuckled.

"Absolutely."

It felt like they danced forever, and forever still didn't feel like enough.

*

Bzzt, bzzt.

Iwaizumi thrust his feet against the floor and set himself spinning in his office chair. “Iwaizumi.”

“Iwa, are you at work?”

Iwaizumi frowned as the world spun around him. “Kuroo, it’s nine in the morning on a Thursday.”

“Yeah, I know, I just-- Hey! Five sets. You think I’m blind? Think you could get away with four?”

Iwaizumi eyed his phone as if it were Kuroo himself. “I take it you are too.”

“Yeah. This slacker,” -- he raised his voice-- “you disappoint me!”

“Don’t be mean to the patients Kuroo,” Iwaizumi said. He was slowing in his spin. He dropped his feet to the ground and laid his neck back on his chair. Dizzy.

“Anyway, I’m at work and Kenma has a fever. I want to bring him medication but I can’t break away for awhile.”

“Ah, sorry about that. I wish I could help, but I’m pretty busy with work right now too.”

“News to us,” Kunimi mumbled from his desk. Iwaizumi leaned over and flicked a foil mint wrapper at him. It hit him square in the forehead.

“I take it Suga and Daichi are both there too?”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi’s gaze wandered to the office door. “But they might be able to break away easier. Or sooner. If you haven’t enlisted help by one o’clock I can drop by during lunch.”

“One is too late!”

Iwaizumi held up his hands. “Just offering.”

“Aaahg.” Iwaizumi could practically see Kuroo scrubbing his hands through his hair. “I know Oikawa is really busy with a new client too.”

“He’s been working later than me,” Iwaizumi said, leaning further back in his seat. “You could just message the group thread and see when each of us can head out.”

“Yeah, alri-- That was half-assed, I’m not counting it. Do another one.”

“Get back to work, Kuroo.”

“Get back to work, Iwaizumi-san,” Kunimi said. Iwaizumi pretended to ready his fingers for another wrapper-flick and Kunimi flinched. Iwaizumi snickered at him.

“Right right,” Kuroo responded. “I’ll message the group. Thanks.” There was an abrupt click and Iwaizumi sighed.

It wasn’t even a full minute later when Iwaizumi’s phone lit up with a LINE message.

Squad™ (8)

KurooT: My kitten is sick

KingT: LINK OR ZELDA?

Iwaizumi pursed his lips and shook his head at the screen.

KurooT: Oh, sorry. I meant Kenma.

KingT: 눈_눈

Nekozume: I’m fine.

KurooT: Are any of you free to pick up some medicine for him? I can’t get away from work until really late today.

Nekozume: I already said I’m fine. And I’m perfectly capable of getting medicine myself if I need it.

Nekozume: Kuro did you change my display name again

KurooT: BUT THEN YOU’D HAVE TO LEAVE THE HOUSE. YOU SHOULD REST.

KingT: I’m really tied up all day… Sales Duo?

Iwaizumi: They’re both at work, but I don’t know how busy they are.

KingT: Someone else is reading these messages and not replying… reveal yourself!

RefreshKing: Sorry, it was me.

KurooT: Lurking as usual I see. Tsk tsk

RefreshKing: No. Well, yes, but not on purpose. Tora asked me something. Daichi is in a meeting with Irihata-san. I have to take care of the office while he’s gone.

RefreshKing: Oikawa I haven’t even seen you alone recently, how on earth did you change my display name

KingT: Uhuehuehueh, we may never know.

RefreshKing: Hmmmm...

Kenma: I apologize.

Kenma: Tooru put me up to it.

RefreshKing: Ah.

KurooT: GASP. A twist ending!

KingT: I have agents everywhere.

RefreshKing: No need to apologize Kenma. Actually… I quite like the sound of it :3

KingT: You’ve always had great taste.

Daichi: That’s what I like to hear.

KurooT: Hey ThighMaster, I thought you were in a meeting with Big Boss Man

Daichi: I am, but he just asked me to hold on because he had a call and my phone was about to vibrate out of my damned pocket.

KurooT: lol. like anything could get out of those pants

Iwaizumi: pfft

KingT: (*≧▽≦)ﾉｼ))

RefreshKing: DON’T TEXT DURING A MEETING

Daichi: oh, gotta go

KingT: Naughty Naughty Business Man

RefreshKing: Daichi and I make Sales look bad

KingT: don’t worry; Iwa-chan isn’t saying much but every message is marked as read immediately, so you know he’s just sitting in editing staring at his phone.

Iwaizumi lifted his eyes and glanced guiltily around the office.

Asahi: Sorry for late read/reply; I’m helping Ukai set up for this catering thing he’s doing so I’m not free, but

RollingThunder: HELLO I AM OFF TODAY

Asahi: Noya is off today

KurooT: lololol

RollingThunder: What does Kenma-san need?!? I shall head over immediately!

Kenma: It’s really okay…

RollingThunder: I insist! And it’s no trouble for me! Can I play with your cats!?

Kenma: … of course…

RollingThunder: What an excellent deal. Kuroo, please text me the medication I should buy!

KurooT: Thanks Noya, you’re a lifesaver.

RollingThunder: All in a day’s work! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

Kenma: well… thank you. No need to rush though. Be careful.

RollingThunder: Yes sir! I will head over post haste!

Iwaizumi smiled. He was happy Kenma would be getting what he needed to feel better. Kenma was obstinate more often than he wasn’t, and surely would have ignored his sickness. Kuroo wouldn’t have of course, but at least this way Kuroo didn’t have to worry. Iwaizumi’s phone vibrated again. This time it was in their smaller, more frequently used thread.

Remind Iwa To Buy Mochi (4)

KingT: Hey Kuroo

KurooT: Yeah?

KingT: Have Kenma and Noya ever spent time alone together?

KurooT: …

Iwaizumi: …

KingT: ……

KurooT: Well this will be interesting.

Kenma stared over his knees at the TV screen. There was nothing on it, it was just perfectly aligned in his field of vision. Kenma didn’t mind Noya visiting, even though Tooru was right-- they had never once spent time alone together. Noya was a bit rambunctious with his default volume set a little high, but he was intensely genuine and always seeking positive solutions. Kenma liked those traits.

The thing was, Kenma wasn’t sick.

He sneezed.

“NYAA!”

Kenma lowered his gaze to where Link was yelling at him from the floor.

“No one asked your opinion,” he told the cat.

Link yelled at him again, whiskers bunching up around his face. He was an assertive animal, and he was extremely vocal about it.

Kenma shook his head. Zelda jumped onto the cushion next to Kenma and rubbed her face against his arm, purring. He reached over to pet her. “Thank you for the support.”

That’s when there was a knock on the front door. Kenma picked up Zelda and moved to the entryway. He opened it to see exactly who he was expecting to see.

“Morning Kenma-san!” Noya greeted. His eyes were bright and his smile was brighter. There was a small paper sack clutched in his right hand. “Oh!” he chirped immediately. “Morning Zelda!”

“Morning,” Kenma responded for the both of them. He opened the door wider and stepped back to allow Noya entry.

“I haven’t been here in awhile,” Noya chatted as he pulled off his shoes.

“Mm.” Kenma thought about it. “Was it… for gaming night?”

“Yeah!” Noya exclaimed. “You kicked all our asses!”

Kenma’s eyes slid to the side. “I have an advantage.”

“These pills,” Noya said, shaking the paper bag as he pushed the front door closed. “Say to take with food. Have you eaten today? I can make something for you.”

Kenma shook his head. “I was eating during that group conversation.” He adjusted Zelda in his arms. “I’m fine, anyway.”

Noya grinned at him, entirely disbelieving. “Right.”

Kenma cast his gaze on the floor. “By the way, you don’t have to use an honorific.”

Noya raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Drop the ‘-san’,” Kenma elaborated. “It’s weird and unnecessary.”

“Oh! Okay!” Noya was looking Kenma straight in the eyes, bold and unflinching. He smiled. “Kenma.”

Kenma cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

“You call everyone by their given names right?” Noya said, leaning forward. “You can call me ‘Yuu’ too, I don’t mind!”

A small smile moved the corners of Kenma’s mouth. “Okay. Yuu.”

How could Yuu even smile that big? “That makes me feel nice, Kenma! So, you want me to make you some tea?”

“No, that’s okay. But if you want to stay for awhile that’s fine. Or… not, I don’t--”

“I’d love to,” Yuu answered before Kenma’s embarrassment could take hold of him. “Where’s Link?”

“Nya!”

Kenma turned around at Link’s mewling, but was overcome with a sudden rush of dizziness that made him stumble backwards.

“Kenma?”

Kenma leaned heavily on the wall. The floor was rippling beneath his feet. He lowered his arms to let Zelda loose, and she skittered down the hallway.

“Hey.” Yuu dipped under the cover of Kenma’s hair and placed the back of his hand to Kenma’s forehead. “Kenma you’re burning up!”

Kenma shook his head. “It’s just… I was a little overworked last week so--”

“Sit down.” Yuu’s voice was so firm that Kenma almost flinched. He did as he was told, walking around the couch and sitting down heavily.

Yuu had disappeared, presumably to the kitchen. When he reappeared it was with a glass of water and a pill.

“Take this.”

Kenma threw the pill back and took a few large swallows of water. He did feel like a heat wave was descending upon him, rolling outward from his forehead and sticking to the rest of his skin.

“I can’t believe you have a fever and you’re still pretending not to be sick,” Yuu chastised him.

“It’s nothing,” was Kenma’s knee-jerk response.

“Right.” Yuu sat down beside him. “I think I already knew this, but you’re really stubborn.”

Kenma pushed his hair out of his face. “That’s what everyone is fond of telling me.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Kenma shrugged.

“Hey Kenma?”

Kenma turned his head to look at Yuu. Everything Kenma did was with a blur of motion-- hazy focus had settled behind his eyes and made everything low-def. He swore that he hadn’t felt this poorly this morning. Kuroo was a prophet.

“Are you… upset with me?”

That made Kenma wrinkle his forehead. Upset? “Why?” he asked. “I have no reason to be upset with you.”

Yuu looked down to his lap. “Well, I’m kind of monopolizing your boyfriend.”

Oh.

“And making him keep secrets from you… I’m actually worried Oikawa is mad too, but…”

Kenma shook his head. “Tooru is fine. He’s jealous, but he’s always jealous. Don’t let him get to you.”

“Jealous?”

Kenma shifted on the couch. “You know, because you’re doing something secretive with half of us. And that half doesn’t include him.”

Yuu held his face in his hands. “I knew it, he’s mad.”

“He’s not mad.”

“You just said!”

“Tooru is… Tooru,” Kenma explained badly. “And an information monger. But he understands. I think.”

Yuu was quiet, which was a red flag in Kenma’s brain. “Do you… understand?” he asked. “I mean, I left you out too…”

Kenma considered his next words. He didn’t want to say ‘frankly I couldn’t care less’ or ‘please leave me out of all things that make Hajime smoke like a chimney’, but he had to be honest. “I…” he paused. “Trust your decision making, and I trust the reaction of the half you chose.”

Yuu still looked thoughtful, but the slope of his shoulders was decidedly less heavy. Suddenly he perked up and stared Kenma straight in the face. “I want you to know that you’d hate doing what Kuroo is doing!”

Kenma almost chuckled. “Then I suppose I should thank you for leaving me out of it.”

“It was a hard decision!” Yuu lamented. “I really wanted everyone to be a part of it, but I didn’t think I could get away with it.”

“I understand.”

“And Oikawa would have definitely enjoyed doing it, but…” he clasped his fingers together and smirked, face gone devious. “I think he’ll enjoy it this way as well.”

Kenma smiled at him. “I’m sure he will.”

“You and Suga too,” Yuu added. He sighed heavily, body going limp on the couch. “I’m so excited.”

Kenma wasn’t sure what or why Yuu was planning whatever he was planning. He had a few choice guesses, but he would rather enjoy the conclusion than speculate.

“I just want you to know, it won’t be too much longer! Just a little over a week and we’ll be done, and all the secrecy will be over!”

“I’m sure Tooru will be pleased.”

Noya nodded, but then seemed caught on one of his own thoughts. “Oh, what did you mean by ‘their reactions’?”

Kenma tilted his head at him.

“You said you trusted the reaction of the half I chose.”

“Oh.” Kenma looked down at the floor. Link was staring at him. “If Kuroo would have thought I should be included, then he would have voiced that.” He shrugged. “Hajime too. That’s the kind of guys they are.” He patted the arm of the couch and Link leapt up to join him.

“Ooh.”

“And they’ve all been… really happy the fast few days.”

Yuu’s eyes grew wide and dewy. “Really?”

“Mm.” Kenma nodded. “Whatever you’re planning sparked something in them. They’re always smiling.” Kenma wasn’t especially touchy, but he could blame the fever on the hand he set to Yuu’s shoulder. “Whatever you’ve decided to do, you’re doing the right thing.”

“AH!” Yuu flung his arms around Kenma’s shoulders and squeezed. Kenma’s eyes grew wide for half a moment, and then he relaxed. Intensely genuine. “You’re also one of the coolest guys I know!”

“Um, thank you.”

He pulled away, hands tight around Kenma’s shoulders. He was jostled a bit-- he didn’t care. “With super cool hair.”

Kenma frowned at him. His eyes trailed up the burst of hair atop Yuu’s head, flaring as bright and energetic as if he’d been struck by lightning. “I disagree with your opinion,” Kenma stated simply.

“It’s like that really cool style! What’s it called? Ombre!”

Kenma’s face was hot-- hotter-- as he reached up and touched his part. “It’s called bad roots.”

Yuu dropped his hand from Kenma’s shoulders and laughed. “It doesn’t matter what it really is if you wear it with confidence!” Yuu thrust his thumb at himself. “I wear my hair straight up which sounds silly, but I make it look super cool!”

Kenma’s eyes hovered around his head. “That’s true… who dyes that front part?”

Yuu beamed at him. “Saeko! Ryuu’s older sister.”

“Oh.” Kenma wrung his hands over his lap. “Kuro usually does mine.”

“I want to teach Asahi to do mine, but he always gets too nervous and won’t go through with it. He’s afraid he’ll make my hair fall out.”

Link crawled across Kenma’s lap and meowed at Yuu before giving his arm a loving headbutt.

“Oh! He speaks his mind. I love that.”

“A bit too often,” Kenma mumbled. Kenma was still staring at Yuu’s hair. How did he decide to dye just one tuft of it? When did he decide to style it like that? Kenma wished he had the type of mind that was innovative with style, but he really just wasn’t.

“Ne, Kenma.” Yuu dipped low and peered up at Kenma’s face. “Do you really think my hair is cool?”

Kenma blinked at him. “Yes.”

“Want me to try it on you?”

There was a long pause.

“With your ombre it would look like a flame. You know, like a candle. I want to try it!”

Link chirped at Kenma. It would get all his hot hair off his neck…

Kenma brought his gaze to Yuu’s eyes. He was already smiling.

“I’m telling you, the top definitely fell over in the end.”

“Whether or not the top fell wasn’t the point-- you’re missing the point!”

Oikawa huffed. “If it was all a dream then--”

“The point the director was trying to make,” Kuroo said, pulling out his key, “was that it didn’t matter because he was happy.”

“How could anyone be happy with a fake life!?” Oikawa almost screeched.

“What constitutes fake!?” Kuroo challenged, pushing the door open. “What is reality!?”

“Oh don’t you even--”

They both paused in the entryway, because from the front door you could see the couch, and on the couch were two men with their hair pointing straight upward.

Kenma and Noya both turned to look at them. Kenma’s eyes were half-lidded, his nose red, and every strand of his hair was tipped into a perfect point toward the ceiling.

“Hey guys!” Noya greeted, turning his body fully on the couch. “Welcome home! Did you know Kenma likes it when you play with his hair? He fell fast asleep while I was styling it; so cute.”

Oikawa covered his mouth to hide his hissing laughter. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Kuroo was already moving forward with long strides to stick his phone in Kenma’s face and take a picture from every angle.

“By the way, Oikawa!”

Oikawa dropped his hand. “Yes?” he asked Noya through a grin he couldn’t completely boil away.

“I hope you’re not mad,” he said. He popped onto his knees on the couch and looked Oikawa in the eyes. “I hope there are no hard feelings.”

Oikawa tipped his head to the side, bangs falling across his eyes. He walked to the back of the couch and laid his hand in the spiked mass of Noya’s hair. “No hard feelings, Bouncy-kun.”

Noya grinned. “I’ll be returning your boyfriend in a little over a week!”

“Thanks,” Oikawa said, his voice a little more genuine than he intended. “I look forward to it.”

* * *

“Well… that’s it guys.”

The five of them sat on the curb, shoulders slumped and arms draped over their knees. They stared forward, watching the slow trickle of cars and pedestrians pass them by.

Noya slapped his knees and bowed his head. “Thank you for these past two weeks!”

Tanaka raised his hand and ruffled it through Noya’s hair. “Quiet you,” he spoke through a broad grin. “It was our pleasure.”

Daichi looked at the sky, head rolling back on his shoulders. “This weekend, huh…”

Iwaizumi reached in his pocket and shook out a cigarette.

“Dammit Iwa,” Kuroo complained.

Iwaizumi took a long, lung seizing inhale. “Ah, yep,” he croaked, smoke puffing out with each word. “That’s the stuff.”

Daichi just shook his head.

“Well, I should be going,” Tanaka said, rising from the concrete. He dusted off his shorts and gave them a quick salute. “Good work men! See you on the other side!”

Noya sprung upward and returned the salute. There was a pause, and then they gave each other a quick-- albeit spine-crushing-- hug.

“Wait, why does he get to go?” Daichi asked, tipping his head up at him. The streetlamps made his skin glow gold.

“Ah, well, all of you guys together is suspicious enough,” Tanaka said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “If Asahi knew I was a part of this mix it might be too big of a tip-off.”

“Hiding the best friend,” Iwaizumi said, taking another long inhale of his cigarette. “Smart.”

“Yep!” Noya said cheerfully. “See you this weekend Ryuu!”

Tanaka gave him another smile and a wave before plodding off. Daichi sighed as Noya returned to the curb next to him. His voice was wistful: “I wish I could go.”

“Nope!” Noya said, squeezing up to him and rubbing his already wild hair on Daichi’s shoulder. “You’re stuck with us!”

Daichi groaned, but he was smiling that warm signature smile of his. It didn’t twist upwards like Noya or Tanaka’s-- it more pooled at his lips, something understated and genuine.

Iwaizumi huffed a stream of smoke out his nose and closed his eyes. They were a real mixed bag, but he liked to think they made a good combination.

“I’m so excited,” Noya said from where he was still leaning on Daichi’s shoulder. His smile was too big for his face, and his eyes captured every spark of light from the city and the sky. He closed them, cheeks flushing. “I hope it makes Asahi happy.”

They were all quietly looking at him. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but notice the fondness on Kuroo’s face; he thought that maybe his own looked the same way.

A car drove by, but no one shifted. They were in a small downtown strip and the weather was extremely pleasant. That meant plenty of passerbys were taking note of the four men sitting knee to knee on the side of the curb. Luckily, not a single one of the four men cared.

Iwaizumi wanted to squeeze Oikawa’s hand-- those were the types of feelings welling up in his chest. He suspected he wasn’t alone in that. Instead he settled for squeezing Kuroo’s shoulder, which was an alright part-time substitute.

After a few more cars passed and a few more moments of silence with them, Daichi spoke.

“Hey guys.”

They turned to look at him.

He squinted into the distance. “Do you think our boyfriends forgot to come pick us up?”

“Naw,” Noya said, swatting the thought away with his hand. “Kenma would never forget.”

“It’s not so much that I think Oikawa would forget,” Iwaizumi said, putting out his cigarette on the curb. “As he would leave us here as punishment for keeping things from him.”

“Yep,” Kuroo agreed with a heavy nod of his head.

“But Kenma,” Daichi spoke up.

“Right,” Iwaizumi said, nodding. Thank God. He pulled a small plastic ziplock from his pocket and dropped his cigarette butt inside. “Actually,” he said, squinting through the darkness. “Is that them?”

“Asahi!” Noya leapt from the concrete and went running toward them.

Iwaizumi chuckled. When Kuroo and Daichi looked at him in confusion, he spoke. “I love that Oikawa has to look up at Asahi.” He smiled, perhaps a bit darkly. “It feels like revenge.”

“What is with you people,” Kuroo laughed.

“If it isn’t our little band of liars,” Oikawa said, feet hitting heavily against the ground. He leered down at Iwaizumi and Kuroo, specifically.

“Good evening,” Kenma greeted.

“Good evening, Kenma,” Iwaizumi said, ignoring Oikawa entirely.

Noya already had his arms wrapped around Asahi’s waist and was chattering away at him. What on earth could he have to say when half their daily activities were currently secrets?

“You look pleased,” Daichi noted from the ground.

Suga beamed. “I just had some delicious spicy curry.” He touched his hand to his stomach. “I’m so full.”

“Spicy curry?” Noya asked, wrenching his eyes away from Asahi. “That means you want some sweet desserts, right?”

“Um--”

“I have to stop by the bar and talk to Ukai-san real quick,” Noya continued without pause. “You guys wanna get a drink and dessert or two?”

Kuroo shrugged. “Sure.”

“Sounds good to me,” Iwaizumi said, pulling out another cigarette.

“No!” Kuroo barked, lurching forward to snatch it from his hands. Daichi grabbed his shoulders to keep him from moving.

“Unfair!” Iwaizumi complained as he was literally manhandled into stillness.

“You’re supposed to be slowing down,” Kuroo informed him, snatching the cigarette from his fingers.

“Fine fine just please don’t harm it,” Iwaizumi said, holding up his hands in defeat. “They’re expensive.”

Kuroo and Daichi exchanged matching exasperated glances, but Kuroo reached into Iwaizumi’s pocket and carefully placed the cigarette back in its carton.

“Thank you.”

Oikawa raised his eyebrows. “How much  more has be been smoking?”

The question made Kuroo and Daichi go silent. It made Iwaizumi want a cigarette.

“What’s going on?” Asahi asked, looking around.

“Iwaizumi is about to get his ass reamed,” Suga answered helpfully.

“So about those drinks,” Kuroo started.

“Yeah, drinks,” Daichi said, standing and dusting off his pants.

“Let’s get going.” Iwaizumi joined.  

They all stood and dusted off their pants, moving into step together toward the bar. Iwaizumi didn’t look at Oikawa. He could feel the glare at the back of skull without seeing it.  

Iwaizumi had just started getting used to Asahi and Noya’s bar. It wasn’t the kind of place with a jukebox and creaky wooden floors, nor was it a place with squeaky vinyl seats and an ever present shift of dust in the air. It wasn’t a local watering hole or hole in the wall-- this place was a high-class, forever sparkling oasis.

The lights were dim, but set perpetual blushes over everyone’s cheeks. Dappling purple, pink, and orange throughout the bar, it was like walking beneath the cover of stained glass. They traversed the kaleidoscope of sweet colors with Noya as their lead.

“Ukai-san!” Noya shouted when they neared the bar.

Upscale lounges weren’t usually Iwaizumi’s thing, but Ukai ran this one well. Everyone was dressed nice, but no one felt uncomfortable. Soft music played and the shine of the bar beckoned to them for attention.

“Geez, I can’t even get away from you on your day off.” Ukai appeared from behind the bar. “What do you need?” Then his eyes caught on the crowd of people behind Noya and he blinked. “You brought the whole gang, huh? Stayin’ for a drink?”

“And dessert,” Suga answered with a smile.

Ukai smiled back. “Evening Suga.”

“Evening Ukai-san.”

“Can we get some cold sake for the table?” Noya asked, leaning forward on the bar.

“Sure thing,” Ukai said, tapping his hand against the shining wood. “It’ll be right over.”

“Thanks!”

They walked toward a table-- a very large table-- and Noya swung his arms happily at his sides. “It’s a shame, actually-- I wanted to impress everyone by showing you I’d memorized your favorite drinks.”

“Is that so?” Oikawa asked, arching an eyebrow as they sat down.

“Yep!” Noya tapped the side of his head. “Got it all on lockdown right up here.”

“Cold sake does sound great though,” Asahi leaned back in his seat. “I’m stuffed from dinner.”

“Same,” Oikawa sighed. Iwaizumi put his hand on Oikawa’s thigh and glanced around the lounge. Decent business for a Thursday night.

“I’ll always be so fond of this place,” Suga said, rocking forward in his seat. “This was one of Daichi and my first date spots.”

“I remember that!” Noya cawed.

“Yeah,” Daichi said, adjusting in his seat. “You and Suga immediately formed a pact to destroy me.”

“Such fast friends,” Asahi commented fondly.

“Really?” Oikawa asked. He was sitting with perfect posture. Made Iwaizumi feel lazy. “I had to pick mine up in a dive bar.”

“It not a dive,” Iwaizumi defended.

“It’s fine;” Oikawa said. “It’s our dive.”

“Well,” Noya brushed invisible dust off his chest. “This is where Asahi and I met, so it’s the best one.”

Asahi smiled at him. It was so soft and genuine that Iwaizumi could hardly look at it.

“You know what else I remember from that date?” Daichi asked, pulling all the attention toward him. He glared at Noya. “You saying that Suga was too good for me.”

Kuroo started hyena cackling across the table. “So that’s where it started!”

Noya held up his hands. “Don’t get mad at me; you’re the one who agreed.”

“Koushi is a great man,” Kenma said, looking down at his phone. “But so is Daichi. No better, no worse.”

Daichi leaned forward on the table, smiling. “Kenma, you’re really sweet, and I appreciate your words. But honestly, you have awful taste so I don’t know how to take that.”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi both choked on their next inhale.

“Mm,” Kenma answered, nonplussed. “That’s true.”

“Hey,” Kuroo said, lifting the hand of the arm he had laid over Kenma’s chair. “I’m fully aware that I’m out of my league. I’m fine with it.”

Suga slapped Daichi in the chest. “I jest,” Daichi said, leaning back. “Mostly.”

“Here’s your sake,” Ukai said, interrupting the flying insults with a tray of bottles and glasses. “And your dessert menu.”

“Thank you,” Noya and Suga both said, Noya corralling the drinks into his arms while Suga reached for the menu.

“Hey, we’re doing this thing this weekend,” Ukai said, leaning all his weight on one hip. He loosed a flyer from his fingers and let it float down to the table. “I’m having a live band play some popular jazz and making some drink specials; you guys should stop by.”

“Live band?” Oikawa asked, eyeing the flyer. “What’s the occasion?”

Ukai shrugged. “I have a stage that never gets used, a fiance who loves jazz, and some new blood to draw in.”  

“Good a reason as any,” Daichi said. He nudged Suga with his elbow. “Wanna come?”

Suga jumped, having been mentally dissolved in desserts. “Yeah,” he answered. “Sure thing. Live music is fun.”

Oikawa leaned heavily on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Iwa-chan…”

“You wanna go?” he asked, shifting his gaze to look at him. Oikawa fluttered his eyelashes. “Alright,” Iwaizumi responded easily.

Oikawa’s head rocked to the side. “Kenma you have to come.”

“Okay,” Kenma answered. Finally he lifted his eyes. “Do you have any slices of Takeda-san’s apple pie?”

Ukai smiled apologetically. “Not tonight. We will this weekend though.”

“Mm,” Kenma said, allowing his eyes to fall back down.

“Then it’s a date!” Noya cheered. “A group date!”

“Do either of you work this weekend?” Oikawa asked.

“Nope!”

Asahi was twiddling his thumbs. “We rarely get weekends off together. This was lucky.”

Iwaizumi tried not to exchange a glance with Kuroo. He kept his eyes purposefully down, and his lips purposefully flat.

But things were looking good.

*

The knock on Daichi’s door made him smile before he even looked up.

“Evening Iwaizumi,” he said, still scribbling at the marketing plan on his desk. When he lifted his eyes, Iwaizumi was draped against the doorframe, head tipped back.

“Is that smoke I smell?” Daichi asked.

“I’m stressed,” Iwaizumi defended, lurching forward.

Daichi chuckled and leaned over to unlock his drawer. “Aren’t we all.”

Iwaizumi plodded into the office and flopped down in the chair just as he had before. “So,” he said.

“So,” Daichi countered, pouring them both a drink.

“Tomorrow, huh?”

“Tomorrow,” Daichi affirmed.

They both clinked their glasses, took a long swallow, and exhaled heavily.

“Ya know, I never thought I’d say this…” Iwaizumi said, staring into the distance. “But I can’t wait for Monday.”

Daichi laughed. It was so he wouldn’t appear as terrified as he felt.

*

“KENMA!”

Kenma looked up from his phone.

“KENMA!!!” The shouting was even more horrified this time.

Kenma stood, because whatever had Kuroo’s voice mounting in such terror was probably…

Easily solved.

“What is it Kuro?” he asked calmly, moving down the hallway.

“I--” Kuroo swung out of the bathroom and into the hallway.

Kenma glanced up at him and immediately reared back, eyes widening.

“This!” Kuroo said.

“What is... that?” Kenma asked. He worked to keep his voice even-- no need to further Kuroo’s panic.

“My hair!” Kuroo almost screeched.

Kenma eyed the top of his head suspiciously. “No it’s not.”

“It is!”

The normal uneven spikes of Kuroo’s hair-- untameable by even the most dedicated of professionals-- were laying flat and calm on top of his head.

“I--”

“It’s never done this!” Kuroo said, smacking at his own head. “And it’s dry! It’s like this and it’s dry!” He went to smack his head again and Kenma caught his hand, pulling it away.

“How did this happen?” he asked.

“I don’t know!” Kuroo was shrieking now. “But today is the day. The day of the thing and I need to look good and myself, not like some flat-headed boy band reject in a su--”

Kenma pressed his palm against Kuroo’s chest. “Calm,” he said.

Kuroo’s head rolled back on his neck and he heaved breath into his lungs. In, out. In, out.

“We’ll fix this,” Kenma told him. Somehow.

“I tried for half my life to tame this,” Kuroo breathed, mostly to himself. “And then… and now…”

“I know,” Kenma said. He was trying to eye Kuroo’s hair without being too cruel about it. It was honestly one of the weirdest things Kenma had ever seen.

He was used to Kuroo’s hair laying flat in the shower, bangs sticking to half his face and neck. But this looked as if it had been chemically straightened and then sucked of all its verve-- it sat in what was, frankly, a hideously uneven bowl cut around Kuroo’s head.

It was awful.

… Kenma really wanted to show Tooru.

He cleared his throat. “So you didn’t do anything different?”

“No,” Kuroo pouted.

“Okay well… we should wash it again.”

“This is my second wash.”

Kenma went still. The situation was more dire than he’d realized.

Kuroo lurched forward and grabbed Kenma’s shoulders, eyes wide. “What if it never goes back to normal!?”

“Kuro.” Kenma looked straight into his eyes. “Your untamable hair is a force as prevalent as gravity; it’s not going to simply disappear.”

Kuroo’s shoulders relaxed, and he leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together.

Kenma gave his hair a quick pet, withdrew his hand when he realized it felt like another person’s head, and placed his hand on Kuroo’s shoulder. “I’m going to make our next strike an all or nothing attack-- we won’t have time before dinner to try again.”

Kuroo nodded without delay. “I trust you.”

“Alright.” Kenma straightened and Kuroo mimicked the motion. “Stick your head in the shower.”

Kenma washed the hair himself, scrubbing at it with the normal shampoo and conditioner. Kuroo enjoyed having his hair played with, so Kenma hoped it would ease his nerves a bit. The success of that was debatable; when Kuroo rose from the tub his eyes were still drooping with worry.

“To the bedroom,” Kenma instructed him, pointing to the hallway.

Kuroo shuffled past him, and for a moment Kenma stared after him in abject terror. No joke? Not even a small one? He heard the mattress squeak as Kuroo flopped onto it.

Kenma gathered up an armful of bottles and followed him. Kuroo was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped.

“You can thank Yuu,” Kenma said, padding across the carpet before dumping his new supply of hair product onto the mattress.

Kuroo eyed it all suspiciously. “I’ve never had to use product before…”

Kenma picked up a bottle and squirted it into his palm. “Desperate times.”

Kuroo swallowed and then gave a few quick nods, and Kenma went to work. The product was supposed to help hold a style, but Kenma didn’t want Kuroo’s hair to wind up crunchy or greasy. He slipped his fingers through the locks carefully, artfully, with diligence. He also had to be sure to avoid the tufts of hair that usually made up Kuroo’s bangs; it’d be easier if he could just shove it all upward like Yuu.

“Okay,” Kenma said, taking a slow step backward to survey his work. “I think I’m done with the product.”

Kuroo lifted his eyes. “Now what?”

Kenma walked around the bed, Kuroo’s eyes following him the whole way. He held up a pillow in each hand.

“Smoosh these around your head.”

Kuroo pulled his leg onto the bed. “Like how I sleep?”

“Yes.” Kuroo tipped his head at him. The strands Kenma had coerced upward were already beginning to wilt. “Now,” he added. Firmly.

Kuroo did as he was told, flopping onto his stomach and smashing a pillow to each side of his face. His hair was forced up between them. It looked like a mess, but, well… that was what they were going for.

“I think this is how it originated,” Kenma informed him calmly, sliding onto the bed to lay beside him. “Your natural…”

“Bedhead.”

“Right.”

Kuroo sighed. “How long do I have to stay like this?”

Kenma’s eyes slid away. “Well… until it dries…”

“Until it dries?”

Kenma pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it in front of their faces. Kenma huddled closer, fitting their bodies together on the bed. Well, save for the pillow separating their faces.

“You wanna watch a movie?” Kenma asked. “Or a show?”

There was a pause. “You’ll stay with me?”

Kenma shifted on the bed. “Duh.”

There was a weird breathing sound, and Kenma suspected he heard Kuroo’s lips split into a smile. “There was was this netflix show--”

“Yeah?” Kenma pressed his finger to the app.

They were on episode four when Kenma shook himself out of the narrative enough to feel how heavy Kuroo’s breath was against his abdomen. Kenma paused the show and stayed silent. He squirmed forward, just enough to peer around the pillows and at Kuroo’s face.

Sure enough his eyes were closed, lips parted only in the slightest, face entirely placid. Kenma smiled. He closed out his Netflix app and set a few alarms to make sure they’d have plenty of time before their “group date”. Then he squirmed backward, curling right into the side of Kuroo’s body. He let Kuroo’s relaxed breathing lull his eyes closed. As his limbs grew heavy he wondered, vaguely, what kind of nonsense they were going to pull tonight.

Kenma was-- vaguely-- excited to find out.

*

Iwaizumi was fidgety all the way to the bar.

He sat on the passenger side of Oikawa’s car, staring out the window. He rolled the window halfway down, then back up, then down, then up a little, then he took out a cigarette, lit it, thought better of it, flicked it out the window.

“You’re not obvious,” Oikawa said, keeping his eyes on the road.

Iwaizumi made a noise strikingly close to ‘harumph’ and rolled the window closed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Oikawa just shook his head.

They parked in the back, right next to Ukai. There was a large chance Oikawa’s car would spend the night here, as it had on plenty of occasions. Iwaizumi wordlessly stepped from the vehicle and thrust his hands into his pockets. Oikawa eyed him closely. They strode through the front entrance together and were immediately greeted by Suga.

“Oikawa!”

“Gang’s all here?” Oikawa asked. He squinted into the blush-colored dark, eyes adjusting.  

“Uh, no,” Suga answered, glancing around the lounge. Daichi appeared to be shooting some bull with Ukai at the bar, but the other four were nowhere to be seen. “Noya and Asahi are on their way… I thought Kuroo and Kenma would be with you?”

Iwaizumi glanced at his watch, but didn’t say anything. “Kenma said they needed some extra time and was going to take a train straight in,” Oikawa told him. He clicked his teeth. “That damned Kuroo wasn’t answering my texts.”

“I apologize,” said one of the most familiar voices in the world. Oikawa was already smirking as he turned around to greet Kuroo. “I was indisposed.”

“Evening,” Oikawa sang.  

“Yo,” Kuroo said to the group.

“Yo,” Iwaizumi responded. Kenma lifted his hand in a wave.  

“Hey,” Daichi called over his shoulder. “Wanna grab a table? It’s just gonna get busier.”

“Sure thing,” Suga said. He rolled onto his tiptoes and lifted his chin, an attempt at a solid view of the lounge.

“That one?” Kuroo asked, pointing to the seemingly one large empty table.

Suga skittered off in the direction of Kuroo’s finger and they all followed. The bar was very busy, especially given that they’d managed to arrive before primetime. The jazz band was already set up on stage, the instruments silently waiting for their masters. Soft piano played in the background-- the usual.

“It’s looking good for Ukai,” Oikawa commented as they moved to take their seats.

“Mm,” Daichi agreed. “He’s already pretty happy with turnout.” Iwaizumi was fiddling with his phone as they all sat down. The slowly shifting lights of bar were reflected against the polished surface of the table. Oikawa’s fingers skated over the reflections, and his hand was painted in those colors instead.  

Kenma reached for the stand-up dessert menu that was stationed at the center of the table. Kuroo laid his hand over his. “You need to have dinner first.”

Kenma pierced him with quite the vicious glare.

“Kenma,” Oikawa tried. “Did you have a proper lunch?” Kenma sank lower in his chair, silent. Oikawa arched an eyebrow.

Kenma slid the dessert menu away from himself and sighed.

“I’ll go get you something,” Kuroo said, standing.

“I never have an appetite when I’m busy at work,” Kenma mumbled, turning his phone over on the table.

Iwaizumi leaned back in his chair, bringing a cigarette up to his lips. “I understand,” he said, taking a deep inhale before spouting the smoke into the air. His chest rumbled in appreciation.

“If you want to perform anywhere close to peak levels, your brain and body need nutrition,” Suga said politely.

“Yeah yeah,” Iwaizumi said, dropping his arm by his side.

“Be careful Iwa-chan,” Oikawa warned. “You’re making Suga’s eye twitch.”

“It’s okay,” Suga said, clasping his hands together and smiling brightly. “I’m used to working with grown men who act like children.”

Iwaizumi flinched. Kenma looked deeply repentant.

“So how about those drinks?” Daichi asked, clapping his hands together.

“You can’t drink without me!” They all turned their attention to Noya, who was bounding up to their table. “Evening!” he saluted.

The table responded with various forms of ‘hey’, ‘yo’, ‘evening’.

“Sorry we’re late,” Asahi apologized. “My mom caught me on the phone…”

Daichi held up his hands. “I understand.”

“So!” Noya said, placing his hands on his hips. “Everyone is here! Now I can show off my supreme talent of guessing drink orders!”

Oikawa set his chin in his hand. “And if you get them wrong?”

Noya blinked once at him, unfazed. “Then you get a free wrong drink; first round’s on me.”

“Oh!” Suga almost squealed. “That’s what I like to hear!”

“How generous Bouncy-kun,” Oikawa said, tipping his head at him.

Noya grinned. “It’s nothing. I’m not going to get them wrong though.” And with that he was off, weaving through the ever-thickening crowd and toward the bar.

Kuroo was making his way back toward the table, and his eyes followed Noya as he trotted away. He pointed, “Aren’t cocktail waiters supposed to serve us in fancy joints like this?”

Asahi smiled and shrugged. “Usually, but Noya gets excited. He likes serving his friends.”

Iwaizumi threw a glance at Oikawa. “You could take note.”

Oikawa glared at him.

Kuroo pulled out his chair next to Oikawa and looked at Kenma. “Ukai is making you gratin.”

Kenma’s eyes widened. “Ukai-san?” he looked at the table. “I didn’t want to be a bother…”

“You’re not,” Kuroo said, leaning on the table. “He offered. Cooking calms him down, and he wants some quiet.”

Kenma appeared to accept that answer, but he still looked bothered. The lights of the stage brightened then-- just a tad-- and the rest of the bar went a bit dimmer. Everyone’s face fell into variations of dark blue and purple, like they were existing in a mystical place. There was a sprinkling of light clapping as the musicians took the stage, and Oikawa wiggled in his seat.

“I’m more excited than I thought,” he said.

Iwaizumi smiled. “I’m glad.”

They started out with something bright and brassy, a fervent clang of cymbals and trumpets that spiked the energy of the lounge. When the lead singer began, it was with dipping and playfully low tones.

“He has a lovely voice,” Suga commented from across the table.

Oikawa nodded his agreement. The bassist began plucking a deep rhythm and Noya danced up to them, tray of cocktails balanced on his hand. “Hello gentlemen,” he greeted with a flourish. “I come bearing the gift of alcohol.” The glasses atop the tray glittered; it was as if Noya was delivering diamonds and gemstones.

“Let’s see what you’re made of Bouncy-kun,” Oikawa said, leaning back in his chair.

Noya’s smile flared bright even in the dark, and the pink and purple lights of the club danced across his face with the music.

“We’ll start with the easiest,” Noya announced, picking a rocks glass off the tray. “For Boss Man Iwaizumi, a top shelf whiskey.”

Iwaizumi gave a deep nod of appreciation and took the glass against his palm.

“For Oikawa: a Long Island. Always.”

Oikawa was grinning as he took the glass. “I am a simple man.”

Iwaizumi almost spat into his glass.

“When it comes to alcohol,” Oikawa amended.

“For Kuroo--,” Noya danced a few steps closer to him, “-- the straightforward Rum and Coke.”

“Thank ya.”

“For my dear Sugawara: A Screaming Orgasm.”

“Excellent, excellent,” Suga said, taking the drink with the world’s widest smile. The tan liquor shivered right at the rim of the glass.

“For ‘I don’t have a favorite but I try everything’ Daichi--” Noya twirled a few more steps “-- The Godfather you’ve been ordering every weekend.”

“Called you out,” Kuroo said against his glass.

Daichi cleared his throat guiltily, but he spoke through a smile. “There’s a complexity and simplicity to it that I’ve come to like.”

“For the lovely Kenma--” Noya brought the drink off the tray with a flourish, “-- A Bushwacker, no rum or vodka, but with plenty of whipped cream.”

Kenma took the drink with two grabby hands, clamping around it before immediately going at the whipped cream.

“No rum or vodka…” Daichi leaned back in his seat. “Does it have any alcohol?”

“Very little,” Asahi told him with a kind smile.

“Sweet,” Kenma said after taking a sip. His face was flushed with happiness.

“And for my dearest and most favorite man…” Noya danced in tune with the music, all the way around the table before setting a drink down in front of Asahi. “A Shirley Temple.”

“Pure,” Suga and Daichi wheezed together, clutching their chests.

“Hey, I drink,” Asahi defended. “Just not always… it’s a mood thing.”

“It’s not like not drinking needs a defence,” Kuroo said, leaning on Kenma’s chair with a smirk.

“I know, but these two,” Asahi gestured to the Sales Duo with his hands, “like to pretend I’m somehow innocent.”

“Oh don’t worry,” Oikawa said, taking a small sip of his long island. “We know you’re not innocent.” His eyes slid up to Noya.

Noya was grinning down at him. “He was. Once.”

“Okay,” Asahi said before dipping down and sucking hard on his straw.

“So gentle,” Oikawa cooed, “so easily flustered.”

“What’d you get yourself, Noya?” Iwaizumi asked from behind a puff of cigarette smoke.

“Screwdriver,” Noya answered proudly. “It’s my favorite. And then maybe… mmm… Grasshoppers.”

“Suits you,” Kuroo commented.

“This is perfect Yuu,” Kenma said, raising his head and licking a trail of whipped cream from his lip. “Thank you.”

“No problem! I’m going to put this tray behind the bar; be right back.”

“I guess Bouncy-kun won this round,” Oikawa said, stirring the ice around his glass.

“As did we,” Suga agreed.

The music slowed for a bit as Noya came back, the piano falling into a wistful rhythm. Oikawa sent a quick glance over his shoulder only to do a double take.

“God,” he whispered.

Iwaizumi turned at his voice, and their entire table became suddenly aware of how packed the bar was. The bartenders were dashing back and forth, and seats were near impossible to find. Some people mingled and swayed in corners and around tables, content enough to enjoy the music.

“It’s so calm in here, I barely noticed,” Suga said.

Iwaizumi adjusted in his seat, leaning back. “It’s good music.”

“Well I’m glad it fixed that weird mood of yours, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said. Iwaizumi ignored him, letting his eyes fall closed as the music drifted through the air. Oikawa had almost forgotten that along with his speed metal and rock music, Iwa-chan enjoyed jazz.

“We should dance, Daichi,” Suga said, leaning heavily against him.

Oikawa’s eyes slid to the side to peer at Iwaizumi. He was smiling softly, eyes still closed. He laid his hand on Oikawa’s thigh.

Oikawa placed his hand over Iwaizumi’s and watched the band pluck away on the stage. Songs came and went, fast and slow. Kenma ate dinner and was finally allowed to order his apple pie, and Suga coerced Daichi into a slow dance off by the bar where he thought they might not notice. Oikawa-- as nosy as he may be-- led his eyes away from them and back to the band.

Suga came back alone, and he sat down rosy cheeked and smiling. “I’m gonna go ask if Ukai needs a bit of help,” Noya said, thrusting himself from his seat.

Asahi lifted his eyebrows at him. “Should I come too?”

“No!” Noya held his palm to Asahi’s face. “I’ll only be gone for a bit if he needs me; I don’t want you sucked in too!”

“But--”

“No!” With that Noya charged off.

“Your senses of responsibility are too high,” Kuroo said, clasping his hands behind his head. “All of you.”

“As if yours aren’t,” Kenma mumbled beside him.

“I think Noya feels guilty for not working tonight…” Asahi said, looking at the table. “I do too.”

Oikawa made a face. “Just enjoy your nights off would you?”

Asahi chuckled nervously.

The music picked up pace again and Oikawa glanced around. “How long have they been playing? A couple hours? Aren’t they tired?”

“Performers have to have proper endurance,” Iwaizumi informed him vaguely.

“Thank you, Iwa-chan of bountiful knowledge.”

“You’re welcome.” Iwaizumi’s phone vibrated and he swiped the lock screen away.

“Please don’t tell me it’s work,” Oikawa said, eyeing him tiredly.

“Fine, I won’t tell you,” Iwaizumi said, pushing his seat back with his knees.

“Iwa-chan…”

“It shouldn’t be too long,” Iwaizumi told him before walking away. Kuroo’s eyes slid around as he watched him go.

Oikawa huffed. “Leave your employees alone on the weekends, Dictator-san.”

Kuroo snickered. “And yet a little birdy told me you’ve been working later than Iwa, hmm?”

Oikawa snapped his head away from him.

“Don’t harass Tooru,” Kenma chided evenly. “We all have our versions of crunch.”

“Oh that’s right,” Asahi said, leaning forward. “You’re at the end of the development for your new game, aren’t you Kenma?”

Kenma allowed for a small smile as he nodded. “Mm. I think we’ve made something really great this time.”

“That’s so nice,” Asahi said. “It must feel amazing to create things as part of a team.”

Kuroo was looking down at Kenma with that sickly amount of happiness and pride on his face. It was adorable; Oikawa both wanted to snap a picture of it and slap it off him.

“It does,” Kenma told him.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick,” Kuroo said, leaning forward to press a feather-light and lightning-fast kiss to Kenma’s head. “Be right back.”

“Mm.”

Suga stood, stretched, and then moved around to the other side of the table. He pulled out the seat next to Oikawa and plopped there. “It’s nice isn’t it? I’m glad we were all able to come out.”

“Indeed,” Oikawa agreed. “When’s the last time we had everyone…” his eyes began to scan the table-- “for an extended period…” His eyes widened. He twisted to the side, eyes liable to pop out of his head. Kenma looked at him, nonplussed. His tipped his head down slightly, looking at Oikawa from the shadow of his lashes. Don’t say anything, his look said.

“But Kenma,” Oikawa whisper-hissed, leaning forward.

“I know,” Kenma said.

It was just them. It was Asahi and Suga and Kenma and Oikawa-- in other words, it was everyone who was left out.

“I know what you’re thinking Oikawa,” Suga said in a startlingly low voice. “But…” he brought his pointer finger to his lips.  

Asahi was turned away from them on the other side of the table, watching the band. Oikawa’s gaze fluttered around the bar. No Iwa-chan, no Kuroo, no Bouncy-kun. Wasn’t he supposed to be helping Ukai?

The drums and piano began to roll into a speedy rhythm, tumbling over each other in a chase toward a climax. Asahi was bobbing his head along without a thought, but Oikawa couldn’t help but traverse the room with his eyes. And yet none of his friends were there, or anywhere. Kenma was watching him closely, but he said nothing. Suga was smiling in a knowing sort of way.

The drums and piano stilled, hitting notes in small bursts to draw the audience’s attention. A single trumpet pulled them forward. Oikawa adjusted in his seat as the music drew to a close, repeating the same rhythm it’d had at the start. It was catchy-- something that would make him tap his fingers or feet before even realizing he’d started humming along. Beats like this grabbed hold of humans like an infestation.

The trumpet wailed, and the rest of the band clanged together to form the last waves of music. When the song ended the lounge was filled with applause. The band bowed deeply, smiling, and Takeda took to the stage.

Asahi tilted his head. “Takeda-san?”

“Let’s have another round of applause for these fine gentleman!” The lounge indulged them, gaining a few whistles and cheers. Takeda grinned, and the warm lighting flashed against his glasses. The curtain closed behind him, leaving only a meter or two of stage for him to stand on. “The band will be taking a short breather, and then the show will continue once more. However, to fill our intermission tonight, we have a special performance.”

Asahi’s brow crinkled in confusion. Suga reached down below his seat, fumbled with something, and withdrew a handheld camcorder.

Oikawa’s eyes blew wide open.

“Let’s give a warm welcome to our next performers!” The lounge clapped, and Oikawa slapped his hands together a few times along with them, confused. Takeda skittered off the stage, and the lights there grew even brighter as the bar went darker; the stage might as well have been the only light in the bar.

A few plucks of bass sounded, along with the soft sound of trumpets, and a new beat curled through the air. The rhythm repeated as the curtains softly swished open, and the bright shine of light fell on the heads and shoulders of five men before a voice softly sang, “You’re just too good to be true--”

Oikawa froze in his seat.

“Can’t take my eyes off of you--”

Noya-- Bouncy-kun Noya-- held a microphone in his hand as he sang the words to the audience.

“You’d be like heaven to touch--”

Asahi looked like he’d gone catatonic in his seat. Suga was grinning behind the illumination of his camcorder.

“I wanna hold you so much.”

Behind Noya were four men-- all dressed to the nines in black and white suits, black fedoras tipped forward to shade their eyes-- tapping their legs in tandem to the beat.

Oikawa’s breath hissed from his lungs: “Iwa-chan!”

Noya swept his arm in front of himself, “At long last love has arrived… and I thank God I’m alive--”

Noya’s four-- backup dancers?-- shifted from a slight angle to front-facing the audience, tipping their chins up.

“You’re just too good to be true--”

“Iwa-chan is on a stage,” Oikawa almost hissed again. Kenma was pinching his bottom lip with his teeth beside Oikawa.

Noya brought both hands back to hold the microphone. “Can’t take my eyes off of you.”

As Noya began his next line, the four men behind him-- Kuroo, Iwa-chan, Daichi, and Tanaka, from left to right-- began tapping out a short rhythm with their feet. They shuffled, swung their hips, and snapped, all in perfect unison.

“Pardon the way that I stare-- There’s nothing else to compare--”

Noya was gently jiving with them, feet moving him around the stage in a way that looked effortless.

“The sight of you leaves me weak; There are no words left to speak.”

The four men behind Noya did a slow twirl to face away from the audience, but kept in tapping their feet.

“But if you feel like I feel… Please let me know that it’s real.” Noya lifted his eyes to look directly at Asahi. “You’re just too good to be true; Can’t take my eyes off of you.”

The music exploded then, and the dancers whirled around with it. The four of them jived to the quicker beat, and their footwork gained some complexity. Trumpets and drums beat out a catchy rhythm that sent Noya prancing across the stage.

“I love you baby!” he sang loud and proud, “And if it’s quite alright, I need you baby, to warm a lonely night--”

Asahi’s mouth was gaping open, his hand hovering over it as if he’d forgotten to finish the motion.

“I love you baby, trust in me when I saaaay--”

Oikawa’s eyes were everywhere; he was trying to watching Noya, trying to watch Asahi, trying to burn the image of Iwa-chan in that suit into his mind forever.

“Oh pretty baby, don’t bring me down I pray; Oh pretty baby, now that I’ve found you stay--”

Noya skidded to a halt at center stage, holding the mic tenderly in two hands. “And let me love you baby, let me love you…”

His voice trailed off along with the music, but then a few thumps of bass rose and brought the rest of the band with it into the next stanza.

“You’re just too good to be true--”

The backup dancers were doing swaying side steps along with the beat. They moved into a slow turn, reaching up to twirl their hats off their heads. They returned them in a quick snap as they finished their turn and Noya sang, “Can’t take my eyes off of you--”

At the next line the four of them rested their elbows on the man to their right. As Noya sang, “You’d be like heaven to touch--” The four of them rocked their hips in perfectly tandem pelvic thrusts. There were screams from the lounge guests, and even Iwa-chan couldn’t help but quirk his lips into the slightest smirk. “I wanna hold you so much--”

Noya was smiling as he sang-- he was was absolutely beaming.

“At long last, love has arrived… and I thank God I’m alive…” He pressed his hand to his chest. “You’re just too good to be true; can’t take my eyes off of you.”

When the music exploded this time, Noya burst forward along with it. He lifted his legs high as he danced forward, his dancers kicking their legs behind him, and leapt from the stage.

“I love you baby! And if it’s quite alright, I need you baby, to warm a lonely night-- I love you baaaby, Trust in me when I saaaaay--”

He was dancing forward through the lounge, spotlight following his movements as he parted the crowd.

“Oh pretty baby, don’t bring me down I pray, oh pretty baby, now that I’ve found you stay, oh pretty baby… trust in me when I saaay…”

Noya danced right in front of Asahi, moving his arms in a big flourish as he sang right to him.

“I need you baby, forever and a day, oh lovely baby, please forever stay, and let me love you baby,” Noya twirled right to the ground and onto one knee, singing the last line, “Forever, baby…” and he offered Asahi a ring. The music trailed into nothing, and for a single heartbeat-- silence.

Tears fell out of Asahi’s eyes without him blinking. “Yes,” he huffed in one heavy exhale.

The crowd erupted around them. Noya threw himself into Asahi’s arms, squeezing him tight around the shoulders. Asahi stood with Noya still attached to him; he had to-- Suga and Oikawa were lunging across the table to hug them both until they were breathless. The suited back-up dancers charged through the crowd, joining the huge and unwieldy hug.

Tanaka was crying the hardest, sobbing as he clung to Noya and Asahi’s shoulders, Daichi was punching and squeezing Asahi’s arms as Suga laugh-cried in his ear. Iwa-chan and Kuroo were both scrubbing their hands through Noya’s hair, Kenma was leaning all his weight against Kuroo as he smiled at their displays, and Oikawa had his face completely buried in the mass of them.

There were tears clinging to all of their eyes. Oikawa thought about it as they all moved in this ridiculous mass of crying bodies-- he wondered how his life could have been different. What would his life have been like if he’d never met the Sales Duo, or Noya? What would Iwa-chan’s life have been like without ever meeting Kuroo or Kenma, who were now two of his best friends? And what would have changed for Daichi and Kuroo, Suga and Kenma, who’d all become friends in their own right, connected through connections?

Oikawa squeezed them tighter. Dominoes upon dominoes had fallen, and they’d somehow led them to this. Oikawa remembered how he used to be before Iwaizumi… when his shortlist of traits was made up of mostly bad ones, when jealousy and bitterness drove his actions, when he hated others because he had trouble accepting himself. Those things were more distant now-- faded. And as much as he wanted to take all the credit for improving himself, he knew it wasn’t true.

The truth was that he’d filled his heart with people. He’d found people who could tolerate and love him. He’d come to love them so deeply that their happiness felt like his own. That instead of being jealous, he craved their satisfaction and contentment. He felt it now, as he cried into Suga’s shirt because two of his favorite people were getting married. As joy squeezed his chest so tight he could scarcely breathe, as he struggled to put words to exactly what he was feeling.

Noya leaned down and kissed Asahi, still held in his arms. When he pulled away he smiled, eyes squeezed shut, tears clinging to the corners. A mass of friends hugged the pair tight.

The truth was that there wasn’t much space or patience left in Tooru’s heart for negativity. Not when he could feel his friends’ happiness, not when his friends felt and encouraged his own. How could the dominoes have fallen so perfectly, so beautifully, that Tooru had been able to take eight other amazing people into his heart?

He wasn’t sure. They hugged each other, and cried together, and Tooru felt bad for thinking so much about how happy he was.

He wanted to say a million things. He wanted to say “Congratulations”, and “that was amazing”, and maybe even, “I love you guys”.

But more than anything, from the truest, most honest place in his heart, he wanted to say, “Thank you.”