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Iwaizumi Hajime was generally clever and thoughtful. Patient. Kind.
He thought before he acted, he was considerate towards his peers, and he enjoyed a little challenge from time to time. However, if that challenge came in the form of his best friend complaining to him about his rising levels of boredom for some ninety minutes twice a week ― well.
The two of them shared one class. Just one, and Chemistry at that. Iwaizumi still didn’t fully understand why Oikawa was taking Chemistry to begin with. ‘Extra credits’ wasn’t the answer, that much was clear. Oikawa, no matter how aloof and childish at times, was an exceptional student, dedicated and serious to a fault. His schedule was packed, too, especially now that exam season and volleyball qualifiers were just around the corner. Iwaizumi’s best guess was that he might be doing it for fun.
Iwaizumi hadn’t been in a class with Oikawa since they got separated in their second year of high school, so he’d thought he’d give it some time, see how well they might work together outside of volleyball, but they were four months into the semester now, and things weren’t looking up at all.
They were sat in their Friday afternoon lab, a plethora of chemicals and equipment spread over their table, waiting to be used.
It was raining outside, had been the whole day, and Oikawa had spent their entire train ride yammering on and on about how it put a damper on his mood and how it ruined his hair. Now that they were inside and dry he had focused his attention on talking Iwaizumi’s ear off about anything and everything. His most recent quasi-monologue was centered around their safety gear.
“Iwa-chan, do we have to wear these glasses? They’re so uncomfy.”
“Yeah, they’re for safety. You’ve worn them before.”
“But we haven’t even done anything dangerous so far!”
“Still.”
“Iwa-chan.”
Iwaizumi ignored him, squinting to read his professor’s messy writing on the whiteboard from the back of the room. He was feeling a little under the weather and his head was full of deadlines for research papers, so he wasn’t up to dealing with a put out Oikawa. He wasn’t usually this bad, not in class anyway, so something had to be going on in that airhead of his. It was a little frustrating that for once, he had no clue about what his friend’s issue might be, but there were more important things to think about right then.
“Okay, Iwa-chan, so give me your glasses because mine won’t fit!” Oikawa whined, reaching for the pair of safety goggles sitting on Iwaizumi’s nose and effectively wrenching him out of his thoughts.
“Fuck off, they’re exactly the same size, dumbass.” Iwaizumi shoved at Oikawa’s arm, praying he wouldn’t knock any of the flasks off the table in the process. Trust Oikawa to cause trouble at any given chance. He flashed another quick glance towards their professor who was now sitting at his desk and sifting through a pile of papers, apparently oblivious to his students’ antics. Iwaizumi hoped dearly that it would stay that way.
Oikawa pouted, cheeks puffed out slightly as he kept trying to sneak the glasses. “Iwa-chan, come on!” he squealed.
“Will you shut up if I give them to you?” Iwaizumi yanked the goggles off and pushed them into Oikawa’s chest. “Take them! Just take them and be quiet!”
Oikawa beamed, jamming the glasses onto his own nose happily. “See, Iwa-chan,” he chirped, “no one can resist the handsome, popular Oikawa-san!”
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything, instead he took Oikawa’s abandoned pair of glasses and put them on. It was time he focused back on the experiment they were supposed to be doing. A glance around the lab told him that most of their fellow students were already several steps ahead of them.
“Hand me the Bunsen burner,” he directed, holding a hand out for Oikawa.
“Why?”
“Because I’ll be needing it later.”
“Only if you say ‘please’, Iwa-chan!”
“Like hell I’m saying that, just give it here already!” Iwaizumi felt a familiar headache coming on.
Oikawa clutched the Bunsen burner to his chest like a newborn baby. “If Iwa-chan is being mean, I’m not going to help you!”
“Oikawa, I swear to fuck―”
Oikawa gasped, covering his mouth with his hands in pretend shock. “Iwa-chan said a bad word!”
Iwaizumi took a deep breath, willing the aggressive throbbing in his temples to go away. He wouldn’t let Oikawa have his way with him, not today, no matter what his damned issue was. He tried to collect himself, stay calm, you got this.
“Okay,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “please.”
“Please what?” Oikawa inquired innocently.
Please stop sabotaging me, you asshole.
“Please. Give me. The Bunsen burner,” Iwaizumi gritted out, reaching for the utensil again.
Oikawa smiled, handing it over. “There, that wasn’t too hard, was it?”
Iwaizumi was tempted to demonstrate just how hard his fists would feel on Oikawa’s face, but he couldn’t beat him up in a classroom full of people, half of them girls that would hate his guts forever if he so much as laid a finger on Oikawa.
While Oikawa occupied himself with some love letter a girl had given him before class, Iwaizumi read over their instructions again. This should be easy enough, he decided, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Alright.
Iwaizumi mixed some of the chemicals carefully, paid close attention to measuring them correctly and took notes to document what he was doing. He worked in blissful silence for several minutes, slipping into a comfortable work flow. When Oikawa finished replying to his fan mail he started watching him curiously with his chin resting on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Maybe he’d finally found his chill. Maybe he’d stopped caring about whatever had seemed to be bothering him that day, pulled himself together. He did try to start conversations now and then, his voice silky and his breath warm against Iwaizumi’s ear, but Iwaizumi cut him short every time. This was neither the time nor the place, and he didn’t want him to think he could get to him with his casual flirting.
Everything went well, no spillage, no mixing or measuring mistakes or anything of the likes, until Iwaizumi reached for the hydrochloric acid to find that it wasn’t there. He blinked in confusion, his eyes scanning the table, searching for the test tube he swore he had slid into the tube rack to his right.
Just when he thought he might have actually forgotten to prepare a sample, his eyes fell on a pair of slim, pale fingers that held something up in the air, waving it around playfully.
“Are you perhaps looking for this?” Oikawa asked, an impish grin on his lips as he swirled the liquid around some more.
“Yeah, have been for the past five minutes, thanks. Can you just hand it over? I want to finish this,” Iwaizumi said as calmly as possible. He might have sounded a little strained.
“Hmm, I don’t know about that.” Something lit up Oikawa’s eyes like a flash of lightning, something that spelled trouble. He leaned back in his chair, creating some distance between them.
God, why are you like this? Iwaizumi cursed inwardly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
“Don’t make me get it myself,” he hissed, accidentally splattering ink over his protocol as he dropped his pen.
“Ooh, what are you going to do to me, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa cooed, fluttering his eyelashes.
“I’m gonna headbutt you so hard you’ll fall off that damned chair.”
“Mean, Iwa-chan.”
“Prof’s gonna kick us both out if you cause a ruckus, so just give me the damn tube.”
Oikawa smiled, easy and confident and a little lopsided. A row of white teeth flashed when he spoke. “Make me.”
Iwaizumi felt his stomach twist at the look on his friend’s face, heat creeping up the back of his neck. He knew that look ― it was the look he used to woo girls, to charm them, wrap them around his little finger in a matter of seconds. Iwaizumi had seen that smirk a million times, but he wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of it. That was a dirty move.
“Oikawa,” he croaked, leaning forward in his chair, hand stretched out. “Come on.”
“Come and get it!” Oikawa’s eyes were full of glee, and something opaque that Iwaizumi couldn’t quite figure out. He didn’t think much of it. What mattered right now was to get the chemical held between Oikawa’s lithe fingers.
He leaned in closer, voice low and posture tense. “This is your last chance, Asskawa. Do you want us to get in trouble?”
Iwaizumi was met with a raised eyebrow and some wicked kind of excitement ― Oikawa hadn’t looked this excited in any of their past labs, not even those in which he had participated normally.
Iwaizumi’s eye twitched. “Give it here.”
“Nope.”
“I’m serious.”
“Iwa-chan, I’m bored, so I may as well have some fun!”
“You’re not gonna have much fun if we get caught, so stop it!”
“Mmh, nah. Not feeling it.”
“Okay, this is it,” Iwaizumi growled, rising to his feet with a dangerous grating sound from his chair against the floor. Oikawa let out a little squeak as he leaned back farther and Iwaizumi’s hands curled around his shoulders. Oikawa held the test tube as far away from Iwaizumi’s grasping fingers as possible, arm stretched out behind him.
“Asskawa!” Iwaizumi cursed, his death grip on his friend’s shoulder tightening as he loomed over him, desperately trying to end this, and quick. “I’m going to kick your ass into next week for this!”
“Iwa-chan, you’re just too small! You should give up!” Oikawa teased, even though he was lacking some conviction as he balanced himself on the hind legs of his chair to avoid getting hit in the nose by an elbow as Iwaizumi hitched a knee over Oikawa’s thigh.
Iwaizumi suspected that at least some of their classmates and certainly their professor must have noticed their squabbling by now, but he was absolutely sure he was done for when he started to lose his footing where he half stood half sat in Oikawa’s lap.
“Oikawa, shit, get up! Let me— Motherfuck—“ he snapped, trying to take a step back but failing. Iwaizumi pulled back, Oikawa held on to his wrist with his free hand, a frantic “Iwa-chan!” erupting from his throat, but there was no reasoning with gravity. There was a moment of heart-hammering uncertainty as Oikawa’s chair wobbled under their joined weight, tilting back, back, back—
The collision with the floor came with a dull bang, a high-pitched scream, and the tell-tale sound of glass shattering to pieces.
Iwaizumi’s elbows stung with pain, his knees throbbed where they’d hit the tiles dead-on. A weak groaning reached his ears from somewhere below, and Iwaizumi looked down and caught Oikawa’s eye to find their faces were only inches apart.
In other circumstances this might have been awkward, their bodies pressed together, Iwaizumi’s knee wedged suggestively between Oikawa’s thighs, but all Iwaizumi could focus on was the wetness seeping into Oikawa’s shirt and the glass shards scattered over the floor. Their eyes met again, tension thick in the air.
“Fuck.”
There was an emergency shower in the little room that connected two labs. Hesitantly, Iwaizumi edged the door open with the tip of his foot, a towel and his own hoodie held tight against his chest.
“Oikawa?” he called tentatively. His voice sounded foreign as it echoed through the room, unnatural somehow. “You okay?”
There was a muffled sound of affirmation mixing into the rush of the water, and Iwaizumi stepped around the corner.
Oikawa turned towards him under the spray of water, clad in only his soaked boxers. Iwaizumi could tell he’d tried to keep his hair mostly dry but it drooped sadly over his forehead, droplets falling onto his nose. His clothes lay bunched up on a stool.
Dim light filtered through the blinds, painting Oikawa’s skin shades of brown and gold. He looked almost ethereal as he stood there, scrubbing at his body to make sure he was clean, eyes round but reserved.
A heavy sigh escaped Iwaizumi’s lips, and he sat down to wait for his friend to finish. He tried to keep his eyes on the floor or the window or the broom sticking out of a storage closet to grant Oikawa some semblance of privacy, but he couldn’t help glancing over periodically. It wasn’t like he’d never seen him naked, because he saw him naked after practice all the time, but this was different. They were alone, and their tension filled fight from earlier was still unresolved. Oikawa had turned away again while he cleaned himself, leaving his back open for Iwaizumi to watch.
Rivulets of water splashed down his slender frame, muscles gently rippling under pale skin. His boxers clung to him like a second skin, and something about the way he bent down occasionally made something stir inside Iwaizumi’s gut. It made him feel like he was the one needing a cold shower, his face growing hot as he looked away, crossing his legs awkwardly and willing his hormones to chill the fuck out. He was sure he’d never hear the end of it if Oikawa found out about the things he did to Iwaizumi by simply existing. Not the usual threats he usually reserved for him, but the butterflies in his stomach, the warmth spreading throughout his body whenever Oikawa would cling to him during class or when they hung out, the pangs of guilt whenever he failed to keep him from overworking himself.
“You done yet?” Iwaizumi asked gruffly, keeping his eyes on his hands.
The water stopped, and the slaps of wet feet told Iwaizumi Oikawa had stepped out of the shower.
“Iwa-chan.” The familiar nickname rang out closer than Iwaizumi had expected, and he looked up to find Oikawa standing by his side, sopping wet, an unreadable expression on his face. His skin glistened, and his bottom lip stuck out in a little pout. Iwaizumi cursed himself for thinking he looked absolutely irresistible.
“What?”
“The towel, Iwa-chan.”
“Oh, sure,” Iwaizumi deadpanned. He stood, coming face to face with Oikawa. He handed him the towel, their fingers brushing for a long moment before Iwaizumi pulled back.
“Are you okay?” he asked again, scanning Oikawa’s body for any signs of injury. He couldn’t see anything, but Oikawa had always been good at hiding things that spelled ‘weakness’ in his book, injuries included. Iwaizumi’s fingers itched for him to touch Oikawa, to feel for himself that he was unharmed. He clenched his hands into fists by his sides.
“Yeah, don’t worry, Iwa-chan. We both know you’re a brute, but I’m okay, just a few scratches here and there.” Oikawa’s voice came out soft, his tongue sticking out playfully as he smiled a little. He ran the towel along his arms and shoulders, wincing when he lifted his left arm.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Iwaizumi scolded, feeling guilt creeping into his heart. He had hurt him after all. He grabbed the towel from Oikawa’s grip, gesturing for him to turn around.
“Sorry,” he said as he dabbed the towel over Oikawa’s back, careful not to press too hard in case there were more places in which he’d gotten injured. Once more, he noticed how smooth Oikawa’s skin was, it looked soft and warm to the touch, and Iwaizumi reminded himself of all the times his best friend had driven him up the wall with his antics to refrain from dropping the towel and tracing the line of his spine with his fingertips.
“No, I’m the one who should be apologizing,” Oikawa replied, all his bravado from before wiped from his voice. “I shouldn’t have teased you this much in class. I’m sorry, Iwa-chan.”
Iwaizumi’s fingers clenched around the towel, and he swallowed around a bundle of words that threatened to spill from his mouth every time he dropped his guard around Oikawa.
“Oikawa. Why are you taking this class?” he asked, hoping the answer would be something sensible, something that wouldn’t make him question the nature of his feelings for his friend even more than he already did.
Oikawa turned back around to face him then, and Iwaizumi’s heart skipped a beat at the rawness in those dark brown eyes. Oikawa bit his lip, released it, bit it again. He took a deep breath before he spoke.
“I miss you, Iwa-chan.”
The words registered slowly in Iwaizumi’s brain, but they didn’t make sense. They saw each other all the time, right?
“You know,” Oikawa continued, giving Iwaizumi no chance to object, “we rarely see each other these days. We don’t share any other classes, you refused to room with me, and there’s no time to talk during volleyball practice. I miss you,” he said again, quietly, his lashes throwing dark shadows on his cheeks.
Iwaizumi’s heart throbbed painfully as realization hit him. There was nothing he could say, because everything that Oikawa had said was true. He couldn’t remember the last time they had spent time together that didn’t involve their studies or volleyball, and even their study meet-ups had been few and far in between. He realized that Oikawa’s annoying behavior in class had been his way of sending out a signal — Notice me.
Eventually, all that Iwaizumi mumbled out was a pathetic, “Sorry, I hadn’t realized.”
“It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” Oikawa replied, gently pulling the towel out of Iwaizumi’s hand to dry his hair. When he was done his brown locks stuck up wildly, a rare sight that Iwaizumi usually would have teased Oikawa for, but right then he was at a loss for words. He stared, hands trembling. This wasn’t okay and he knew it, and he knew that they both knew it. There seemed to be something else that neither of them had the courage to address.
“Oikawa—“ Iwaizumi started, not knowing where he was going with this. The air was heavy and humid and the room felt so much smaller than before. Oikawa watched him with hooded eyes, an unspoken question hanging between them. Iwaizumi was hyper-aware of all the bare skin, and the tiny goosebumps on Oikawa’s arms, and the way his eyes burned themselves into his when he dared to look up again. Once they locked eyes he found himself unable to look away.
“We need to talk,” he murmured as he inhaled a breath of air and with it the scent of sandalwood and jasmine. Oikawa’s pupils were dark and wide, but they seemed to ooze warmth that dripped into Iwaizumi’s skin and drew him in like a moth to an open flame. He realized that he had longed for this kind of proximity all this time, his desire buried under layers of uncertainty and fear. His feet moved without his consent, one step closer.
“We need to talk,” Oikawa repeated after him. There was a soft flop as the towel slid from his fingers to the tiled floor.
“We should…” Iwaizumi swallowed, his heart beating quick and erratic in his chest. He could feel Oikawa’s breath on his lips, see his eyes dip down and back up.
“We should talk after class…” Oikawa mouthed, but instead of moving away his hand grazed Iwaizumi’s fingers, sending shivers up his spine.
“You’re going to catch a cold…” Iwaizumi breathed, nudging Oikawa’s fingers with his own, his other hand coming up to lightly run his knuckles over his cheek. He watched his eyelashes flutter at the touch, his lips parting slightly.
“You worry too much, Iwa-chan…” The tip of Oikawa’s nose brushed Iwaizumi’s, making his heart shake and his skin tingle. Oikawa was everywhere, making him dizzy, his eyes hypnotizing him.
“I can’t help it,” he whispered, unconsciously splaying his fingers over Oikawa’s ribs, feeling him shiver at the contact.
“Iwa-chan…” Oikawa’s voice rose at the end of his name, a sound so raw and feeling Iwaizumi couldn’t take it.
Heart pounding, he leaned up and pressed his lips hard against Oikawa’s. Oikawa inhaled sharply, a gasp of surprise, but he didn’t recoil or push him away. Hands landed on Iwaizumi’s back instead, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as soft lips slid eagerly over his mouth. Iwaizumi knew Oikawa had kissed before, but he hadn’t been prepared to experience it firsthand. His breathing faltered for a moment when Oikawa made a noise he hadn’t thought him capable of; it was low, it was sweet. It was cute.
This is wrong, Iwaizumi thought frantically, we should stop, I should talk to him, but he couldn’t make himself do it, not with Oikawa bringing him close to his chest, lips opening to breathe into his lungs. He sighed, heart burning, and allowed himself to run his tongue over Oikawa’s bottom lip as he tilted his head more, wanting to feel all of him, drink him in while it lasted. The moment felt unreal, like he was asleep in his bed and dreaming of something he’d never have. Iwaizumi shuddered when his tongue met Oikawa’s, but instead of it being awkward it made heat bloom scarlet in his veins as Oikawa licked his way into his mouth. Instinctively, one of Iwaizumi’s hands slid into Oikawa’s mussed hair, the other holding him close at the small of his back. His senses were overstimulated, everything was soft and jasmine and the taste of bitten lips and the beat of a heart that wasn’t his own.
A tiny moan fell from Oikawa’s lips and Iwaizumi swallowed it right down, tasting him sweet on his tongue.
Eventually, it was Oikawa who broke their exchange, their lips parting with a wet smack when he pulled back to breathe.
Iwaizumi’s eyes opened slowly, his mouth hanging open much like Oikawa’s as he realized. They held eye contact for a few awkward, silence filled seconds that were only interrupted by their twin gasps for air. Oikawa’s face was flushed a deep red, his lips shiny. Iwaizumi swallowed hard. Then he shook his head to himself. If he wanted this — whatever this was — to not ruin their friendship once and for all he had to say something now.
He cleared his throat, “Oikawa—”
“Iwa-chan—”
Iwaizumi stared as he lost track of what he had meant to say, fumbling for words but finding none, panic starting to drip into his bloodstream at the look in Oikawa’s eyes. Before he could give it another try, a hollow knock on the door pulled him out of his jumbled thoughts, and they both turned to face their professor, a look of disappointment and concern on his wrinkly face.
“Oikawa,” he said, fixing his still mostly naked student with a glare. “Get dressed. Clean up and leave, class is over. Iwaizumi,” he continued, sliding his gaze over to him, “take him home, or to the doctor to check on him.”
“I will. What about the experiment?” Iwaizumi asked.
“You can redo it next week. Now get out.” The professor’s tone wasn’t necessarily angry but Iwaizumi could tell he wasn’t pleased.
He dipped his head. “Yes.”
The professor backed out of the room, leaving Oikawa and Iwaizumi alone to deal with themselves. Iwaizumi gave Oikawa a nudge with his hip, “You should hurry up.”
Oikawa’s lip trembled like he was trying to say something, but he only nodded and turned around, stripping off his soaked underwear. Iwaizumi kept his gaze on the window until he was sure Oikawa had put on his pants. He grabbed the hoodie he’d brought with him.
“Here,” he said, his voice a little gritty, “put this on unless you want to get sick.”
“Iwa-chan, you’re gonna be all wrinkly by the time you’re twenty if you worry this much.”
“Shut up.” Despite the storm inside his mind, Iwaizumi failed to keep a straight face at the coy smile Oikawa wore as he pulled Iwaizumi’s hoodie on. The piece of clothing was a little wide on Oikawa, but it suited him. He looked good in Iwaizumi’s clothes. Cute, Iwaizumi thought again, immediately feeling guilty for it.
There was nothing else he could think of to say and the atmosphere had changed since their professor had pulled them back to reality, so the rest of the cleanup happened in silence. Soon they were both dressed, grabbed their bags, and headed out the door back to the train station.
The rain had slowed down to a light drizzle, little drops catching in Oikawa’s hair and scarf. Fog hung around the horizon, giving the city a ghostly outline while the two of them walked down the black streets. The air was cool and clean, and Iwaizumi took deep breaths, one, two, another, until he fell into a calming rhythm. He kept stealing glances at his best friend to check on him, but never once were they returned — Oikawa had his eyes on the ground, his mouth pulled into a tight lipped smile that was half hidden by his scarf.
Iwaizumi found himself thinking back to their spur of the moment kiss again and again, asking himself the question he’d wanted to ask Oikawa ever since. What had it meant? Oikawa was flirty by default, but he could never imagine him having real romantic feelings for Iwaizumi. They were best friends. Oikawa liked girls. Or so he had thought up until this point.
There were many more things he’d like to ask Oikawa, why he hadn’t talked to him earlier about missing his company, if he needed a doctor. If it was okay to hold his hand.
None of those questions left his mouth as they made their way to their stop, each of them lost in their own thoughts.
When Iwaizumi watched the houses flying by the train windows he realized that it was too quiet for his liking. He missed Oikawa’s incessant whispering about his droopy hair and his snide remarks about Iwaizumi’s “plain face”, even if he had lamented about them earlier that day. Next to him Oikawa busied himself with his phone - apparently he was texting someone, probably Matsukawa or Hanamaki, his fingers flying over the screen faster than Iwaizumi’s eyes could follow. He liked to imagine that it was about volleyball, but maybe he was just relaying a funny story to them, who knew. Iwaizumi didn’t, much like he had no clue about what Oikawa was thinking. He decided not to chase that train of thought.
By the time Iwaizumi and Oikawa got off the train, the rain had finally stopped completely and gave way to a gentle breeze under a cloudy sky.
They walked familiar streets, places Iwaizumi had mapped out in his heart and inked under his skin like invisible tattoos. The playground where Oikawa had lost his first tooth when he fell off the swings, the vending machine they had tried to open too many times to get some free chewing gums and failed, the one hundred yen shop where they would carry their pocket money every week to spend on a popsicle to share.
It all made Iwaizumi want to go back to those times, when feelings weren’t part of the picture and his heart didn’t stop every time he and Oikawa locked eyes. There was no way Oikawa hadn’t already figured out how he felt after he had kissed his devotion against his lips and breathed it into his lungs. Oikawa was sharp-witted and observant. He had to know.
He was so caught up in his misery that Iwaizumi didn’t even notice when the street turned into a gravel path and leaves began lining the way ahead. He had promised to walk Oikawa home but he had ended up simply following him. Because that’s what he always did, because following Oikawa was the natural thing to do.
He accompanied Oikawa until they reached the doorstep. This was it. One of them was going to have to take the leap now, but Iwaizumi felt like he might faint if he so much as opened his mouth.
Again, it was Oikawa who took the initiative.
“Iwa-chan,” he began slowly as he turned around so his back faced the door. His hair was still disheveled from his emergency shower and the hood of Iwaizumi’s shirt stuck out of his coat collar, hugging his neck like it was made for him. “Earlier, about that … very in depth conversation of ours…”
“Oh my god—”
“Iwa-chan, let me finish this, let me ask you — what were you thinking?”
Something heavy settled into Iwaizumi’s stomach. “I know, I shouldn’t have—”
“No, no, no, you don’t get it!” Oikawa interrupted.
Iwaizumi blinked, confused.
“What were you thinking about when you kissed me?”
“What I thought?” Iwaizumi asked, his stomach twisting.
“I thought I was dreaming,” Oikawa said when Iwaizumi kept quiet. “I thought that maybe I had hit my head when we fell off that chair and I was just imagining things. I’m still not sure if it really happened. Did it?”
Iwaizumi frowned. “Of course it did, you just said so yourself. Get to the point.”
Oikawa bit his lip. “I don’t know, maybe you should do it again, just to make sure?”
That was when Iwaizumi caught on. “Are you kidding me?”
“You said we should talk. And I was maybe kind of hoping we could talk? Like that again?”
Iwaizumi’s heart started working its way up his throat at an alarming speed when Oikawa’s words finally registered, and he grabbed his wrist, pulling him down to eye level. He hoped Oikawa didn’t notice how sweaty his fingers were. “Shittykawa, what are you trying to say?” he growled, blood rushing to his face.
Hesistation flared behind Oikawa’s eyes for a second, and Iwaizumi knew that he was serious when he spoke. “I’m trying to say that I like you, Iwa-chan.” He was quiet for a moment before adding a careful, “You know, you still haven’t told me what you were thinking earlier.”
Iwaizumi swallowed, losing himself in Oikawa’s eyes. “Isn’t that obvious?”
He felt warm breath ghosting over his face when Oikawa answered, “I want to hear it, just once.”
And Oikawa did get to hear it, because Iwaizumi walked him against the door and kissed the words right into his mouth. “Oikawa Tooru,” a kiss on the lips, “you fucking asshole”, teeth grazing sensitive skin, “I really fucking like you.” Oikawa laughed, and it was Iwaizumi’s favorite sound, because it was honest and unadulterated and Tooru.
If it was hard to stop kissing before, it was even harder now. They exchanged more little kisses, nips on Oikawa’s bottom lip, gentle touches against Iwaizumi’s jaw, until they were left breathless and giggling, leaning on the door with their foreheads touching.
“Do you wanna come in?” Oikawa asked, the smile audible in his voice, “We have a lot to talk about, but we also have a lot to talk about…”
“You asshole,” Iwaizumi laughed, but he didn’t resist when Oikawa took his hand and unlocked the door.
He knew that things weren’t objectively perfect just yet, but they had all the time in the world to get there, they would work things out little by little.
As everything came naturally with Oikawa, he was sure that this wasn’t going to be an exception.