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You're now rockin' with the champion

Chapter Text

Oikawa sighs, dropping his head down against his arms.

It’s been another long day.

He can only sit in the same desk, spend eight hours working on the same, boring work for so long before he wants to bash his head against the wall.  

Today is unfortunately one of those days.

He’s sitting at his desk, shoes already kicked off in front of him. He’s loosened his tie, and is breaking the rules by having a coffee cup on his desk, but he really couldn’t care less. He didn’t even take the time to style his hair properly today. He’s a hot mess, and no amount of cat videos, swiping snacks from the staff room or trading jokes via e-mail with his only colleague that he actually likes seem to be able to save him from today.

He’s very busy contemplating life as it is and what poor choices he must have made in the past when he finally gets some reprieve - his phone rings. Not his office phone, the old, ridiculous black corded phone that the office has saddled him with, no, but his personal cell phone. The one he’s shoved in a bright orange case because it makes him smile that his boss glares at it during every meeting. He picks up the phone after letting it ring a few times, to maybe annoy someone in the office with his obnoxious ring tone, seeing that it’s from his college buddy, Kuroo. He doesn’t hesitate to pick up the phone at lightning speed, grateful for a distraction, pressing it to his ear and sighing out a greeting. “Tetsu! Hey!”

“Tooru,” It’s loud, and Oikawa wonders if Kuroo’s at work. “Hey, I have a job for you. Are you interested in getting out of town for a couple of days?”

A job ? Oikawa has one, and Kuroo knows that - but he can’t help but be intrigued.

“Out of town?” Oikawa sits up a little straighter. That’s caught his attention. He’s dying for something, anything to change. “I’m listening.”

Kuroo clears his voice, and sounds a little smug, like he knows he’s already won Oikawa over. Asshole. “Well, I’m taking one of my fighters to America in a week. The problem is, he’s hopeless and can’t speak a lick of English, so I need someone to interpret for him. I know this isn’t what you do for work, but - I know you’ll do a good job and be… private.”

Interpreting? In America ? Wait - “What’s the need for the privacy?”

“Hm,” Kuroo hums, and the phone shifts, rustling a bit in Oikawa’s ear. “It’s for one of my more famous fighters. I know you don’t follow this kinda stuff, but, well. I need someone that I know is going to do their job properly, and not use this as an opportunity to try and get something more than a paycheck out of it, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Oikawa lifts his gaze up as one of his coworkers walks past his desk, but doesn’t say anything. Even a greeting. Oikawa clicks his tongue.

“Listen, I know that it’s short-notice, and you probably need some time to think about it, but-”

“I’m in,” Oikawa interrupts. His voice is firm and steady, and he doesn’t hesitate. “E-mail me the details, okay?”

He can hear Kuroo’s smile on the other end of the phone. “Will do, Tooru. Thanks. I’ll see you in a week.”

It surprisingly doesn’t take much to get some time off work - he’s been saving up his leave days pretty much since he started, and if Oikawa didn’t know better, he’d think that maybe his boss is looking forward to having a quieter office for a few days.

The trip itself is spontaneous, for sure, but the thought of it leaves Oikawa excited for the rest of the week. He can’t wait to go, and finds himself powering through his work for the week, making use of his office’s lax sign-out policy, leaving early almost every day. They’re technically allowed, as long as their work for the day is done, but Oikawa’s never been so motivated to do his work quietly and efficiently.

Oikawa has no idea what to pack for this kind of trip, and Kuroo isn’t exactly helpful - when Oikawa texts him for some guidance, all he gets back is a something that isn’t too formal, but you still look good in , which tells him absolutely nothing.

He ends up probably packing too much - his suitcase is heavy when he drags it into the airport - but he’s confident that he can face any situation that might come his way during his trip, and look good while doing it.

Oh, how wrong he is.

It’s early, their scheduled flight - far earlier than Oikawa would like to be awake, but his plane ticket is being paid for by Kuroo’s company, so he really can’t complain. He rubs his eyes as he makes his way through the airport, getting through the check-in and security with ease, as they’re apparently waiting for him. His luggage is just too big to carry it on, so he has to check it; he keeps a small bag with him, with just a few things that he might need on the plane. He checks his phone as he goes to find his gate - Kuroo’s already texted him, and they’re apparently already there and waiting for him. How punctual.

Oikawa still doesn’t know who Kuroo’s mystery famous fighter is, as Kuroo said no more, but he truly couldn’t care less. He’s never been to a match, and doesn’t really care to be; he’s pretty sure that it’s not his thing, watching two guys beat each other to a bloody pulp. That sort of thing only sounds good on television. In real life… not so much.

He sees Kuroo right away - he’d know that bed head anywhere - sitting in a quiet row of chairs, talking to the guy who’s sitting next to him. Now, Oikawa would be lying if he said his interest wasn’t piqued at least a little by this entire situation, and even more so when he gets his first glimpse at this fighter.

It’s pretty clear, right away, that he’s athletic. He’s sitting in some casual clothes, a pair of gray sweatpants and a red sweater, with his arms crossed; but Oikawa can see that he has broad shoulders, and a strong frame. His black hair is cut short, and is messy, He runs a hand through it while he talks, looking over at Kuroo tiredly. He doesn’t seem to be a morning person either. Oikawa fixes his bag around his shoulders before walking over.

Kuroo notices Oikawa, looking up and offering him a grin. “You made it!” He stands, and after sending a pointed look to his fighter, the other man stands, too. “This is Iwaizumi Hajime. Iwaizumi, this is Oikawa Tooru. He’s going to be working as your translator during the trip.”

Oikawa gets a strong look from Iwaizumi, who very clearly gives him a once-over. It rubs Oikawa the wrong way; this guy exudes a certain type of confidence, like he’s used to having people treat him like a celebrity. He doesn’t smile at him, but gives him a small smirk, like he’s evaluating Oikawa’s reaction.

Of course, he wants to give him exactly the opposite of what he’s looking for.

“Nice to meet you,” Oikawa replies, short and curt. Iwaizumi gives him a look, but nods back at him rather than speaking.

“Did you get the schedule I emailed to you?” Kuroo pulls his phone out of his pocket, apparently ignoring their little Mexican stand-off, “Because the trip is only for five days, it’s a little bit jam-packed.”

“Yes.” Oikawa shifts on his feet, and looks over at Kuroo, “I got it, I’ve already memorized it. The plane lands at eleven local time, we’ll have time to check in and rest before the morning preparations.”

Kuroo sighs, relieved. “Thanks, Tooru, this is really taking a weight off my shoulders.”

Iwaizumi gives them a look at the use of his first name, but Oikawa misses it, so Iwaizumi clears his throat, and, “Have you ever done anything like this before?”

Oikawa has to hold back a snort, and remind himself he’s working, but it doesn’t really work that well. “Worked with an entitled fighter? No, but don’t worry, I’m a quick study.”

At that Kuroo laughs, pocketing his phone. “Alright, alright, we - oh, hey, we’re about to board. Grab your bags.” Kuroo points to the gate, where the personnel are starting to prepare to take passengers. Iwaizumi slings a duffel bag over his shoulder, and Oikawa watches him just for a minute, before looking away.

Their first meeting is a little less than amicable, but that’s okay. It’s just work, after all.

They manage to board the plane, and Oikawa gets a little bit of solace. He’s flying coach, while Kuroo and Iwaizumi are first-class; it’s alright, except for the woman sitting next to him that’s elbowed him in the side at least six times within the first two hours of the flight.

He sleeps, on and off, but really he’s too excited to do much of that. It might be work, but Oikawa knows this isn’t going to really be work - he likes using his English, and he’s looking forward to getting to see America. He hasn’t gotten much opportunity to travel, with work being crazy busy, and spending time with Kuroo is always fun, especially as they haven’t really gotten to see each other much since college.

And this Iwaizumi guy? Well, Oikawa’s sure that he’s going to love putting him in his place.

Chapter Text

Oikawa’s generally a pretty good traveler.

He’s not bothered by long nights, or sleeping in whatever quiet corner that he can find. He’s pretty flexible, and can work his long limbs into some sort of comfortable position when all he gets to sit in is a small chair.

So flights don’t really bother him.

That is - except for the descent.

There’s just something about feeling the airplane tip and start flying downwards that really makes him nervous. Yeah, sure - he knows the pilots have lots of training, and it’s supposed to feel like this, but that knowledge doesn’t really help him when they’re free-falling from thousands of feet in the air at the speed of sound, with no set course and everyone screaming around him-

Okay, okay, that’s not really what’s happening, but that’s what it feels like.

So when the plane finally touches down at their location - Las Vegas, Nevada - Oikawa is very much looking forward to making their way to the hotel for some much-needed rest. He remembers his bag, and shuffles off the plane with the rest of the passengers, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand. Everything is sore - all the standing up and maneuvering around other passengers didn’t help, apparently - and when he finally steps into the airport, he’s grateful to have some room.

Oikawa follows the signs to the baggage claim with ease. He knows Kuroo is fluent in English, so he must be directing Iwaizumi, as he finds the two of them there, looking groggy while they wait for their bags. As he approaches, Oikawa gives a small wave, which Kuroo returns with a smile. Iwaizumi just nods, looking sleepy. No, it’s not cute.

“There’s a cab waiting, as soon as we get our bags,” Kuroo tells him. “I’ve got to go to a few quick meetings, but you two are free to check in. Everything’s comped, so you can do whatever you want in the hotel.”

That gets a grin from Oikawa. “Sounds great! Don’t worry, Tetsu, I will.” He laughs, and Iwaizumi steps past him to grab his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He pauses, looking from Oikawa to the baggage claim, before pulling off Oikawa’s travel bag, too. Oikawa blinks, a little surprised, but takes it.

“Oh, thanks, Iwaizumi! I’m surprised you remembered this one was mine.” Oikawa adjusts the handle so that he can sling it over his shoulder.

“Really? How could I forget?” He looks down at the bag, which is teal and white, covered in tiny purple flowers. “Not to mention that it matches your other bag.” He nods at the smaller bag Oikawa is holding, which does have a matching pattern. He chooses to not mention the matching laptop sleeve and cosmetic bags that are tucked safely into his luggage.

“It’s easy to spot, right? My mom gave me the set a few years back on my birthday.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi huffs a laugh, “Easy to spot.”

Oikawa opens his mouth to retort, but Kuroo cuts him off. “Hey, the cab’s here. Let’s get moving.” He picks up his own suitcase (which Iwaizumi didn’t comment on, but it’s covered in tiny Neko Atsume cats. Playing favourites, are we, Iwaizumi?) and leads the way out of the airport, down to the pick-up lane, where a few cabs are already waiting. It’s dark, the only lights coming from the airport itself and street lights, and when Oikawa checks his phone, he sees the plane landed pretty much on time. It’s just after eleven.

They get to the hotel quickly, and Kuroo deals with checking them in and all of that. Oikawa pulls out his phone and checks the messages he’s got - a few from his friends, one from his only co-worker that he actually likes (congratulating him on his luck at being out of the office for the week), responding to them while they wait. Iwaizumi doesn’t check his phone, just shoving his hands in the pocket of his sweatpants, looking around the hotel with some interest.

Oikawa pockets his phone, deciding instead maybe starting out this whole talking thing would be good. “Have you been here before, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi narrows his gaze. “What did you just call me?”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa grins, “Have you fought here before?”

He looks like he wants to keep fighting it, but Iwaizumi lets the nickname slide, for now. “A few years ago, I came here for a fight, but it’s been a long time.”

Oikawa nods, “Are you nervous?”

Iwaizumi almost laughs. “No. There’s no use in getting nervous - in the ring, the second you start getting nervous and hesitating is the second that you lose.” He gets this serious look on his face, like he’s playing through a fight in his mind. Oikawa swallows.

“Okay, you’re checked in.” Kuroo walks over, and passes them both room keys. “We’re all on separate floors, of course but it doesn’t really matter. Iwaizumi’s room has been upgraded free of charge, so, if you two wanna go up there, when I get back I’ll just fill you in on the details of tomorrow.” He picks up his bag, “It’s looking like we’ll have one interview in the afternoon before prepping for the fight, but we need to work out the details.”

“Sure thing, Tetsu!” Oikawa nods, and heads over to the elevator. “Come on, Iwa-chan!”

Kuroo and Iwaizumi exchange a look, the latter looking almost exasperated. But, he walks over.

The elevator ride up is pretty quiet, as a few people shuffle in and out of the elevator around them. Iwaizumi’s room is pretty high up - on the twenty-first floor, he’s clearly a special guest. The elevator dings, and they make their way to the room. Iwaizumi throws open the door, stepping in and immediately kicking off his shoes.

“Old habits die hard, don’t they?” Oikawa laughs, and pulls his shoes off too, leaving them carefully by the door. Iwaizumi hums in response, as Oikawa looks around to survey the room. “Holy shit Iwa-chan, you’re just living in style, aren’t you?”

Iwaizumi half-turns to look at him, and he’s halfway out of his sweatshirt; he pauses, giving Oikawa an extended look at his well-defined abs, before pulling it the rest of the way off and letting his shirt fall down. He shrugs, and walks further into the hotel room, which is huge .

Upgraded was a bit of an understatement.

The hotel room itself is more like a small flat, really; there’s a small kitchen, attached to a living room with a huge television, presumably to watch all the biggest local events. Three doors lead off of the main room - the bathroom (with a tub and a shower, he’s already jealous of Iwaizumi), the bathroom, and a far bigger closet than Iwaizumi definitely needs. Oikawa whistles as he leaves his bags by the door, and follows Iwaizumi in.

“You hungry?” Iwaizumi asks, dropping himself onto the couch and grabbing the room service menu that’s perched on the coffee table. He scans it briefly, before passing it to Oikawa, who sits down on the other side of the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Order whatever you want. Kuroo’s paying.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a great idea.” He looks through the menu, picking out a few items for himself, which Iwaizumi promptly orders.

They don’t really talk, right away - the silence around them isn’t awkward, but more so relaxing, after that long plane ride. Now finally getting some time to rest, Oikawa stretches his long limbs out languidly, letting out a soft sigh of relief. He doesn’t miss the way that Iwaizumi’s eyes follow his movements, entranced.

Instead, they raid the mini-fridge once their food arrives, taking what they can get from the tiny bottles they’re provided. The alcohol loosens everything up; Oikawa ditches his sweater, and makes himself more comfortable on the couch. Iwaizumi laughs easier.

“Are you allowed to drink the night before a fight?” Oikawa asks, smirking, as he finishes off the contents of a small bottle of gin. He plucks a bottle out of Iwaizumi’s hands - quickly checks the label, and it’s some kind of Russian vodka he’s unfamiliar with - and finishes off the shot that’s left in it, enjoying the reaction he’s getting from Iwaizumi.

“As long as I don’t get hungover tomorrow, it’s fine.” He laughs, and finishes off the rest of his hamburger, picking at the sides he got with it. “My coach isn’t here to give me the gears anyway.” He picks around the couple of bottles they haven’t opened yet, but nothing looks appealing to him. It’s not really alcohol he’s wanting right now, anyway.

“That makes sense.” Oikawa nods, leaning back on the couch; he steals a few of Iwaizumi’s french fries as he settles on some pay-per-view for them to watch.

Or, well, not watch.

Oikawa can feel Iwaizumi watching him; he doesn’t need to look to see the way he’s following the length of his limbs with his eyes, or mapping out the slope of his neck. It’s enticing, in a way - yeah, Iwaizumi is probably used to fans throwing themselves at him, but Oikawa’s not that easy. Iwaizumi can look all he wants, but that’s all he’s giving him.

For now.

Oikawa’s not sure he’s ever felt more on edge while watching some shitty movie on television. He’s hyper-aware of Iwaizumi, and how much he wants him. Iwaizumi passes him the rest of his fries - a bribe, maybe? - and Oikawa takes them happily, feeling more content, now that his hunger is sated.

Well… his hunger for food, anyway.

Oikawa distracts himself from the atmosphere by looking through the hotel services offered. Obviously, everything catches his eye - there are a lot of spa services he’s going to have to make use of on their down-time, and a class tomorrow morning that catches his eye. “Iwa-chan, there’s a yoga class tomorrow morning. You should come with me.”

Iwaizumi inhales, “You do yoga?”

“Mhm. It’s pretty easy to learn.” He looks over, and throws him a pretty smile. “I’ll show you the ropes. Come on! It’ll be good to get limber for the match.”

It’s a good thing Kuroo knocks on the door all but five minutes later, and gives them the run-down for the next day, because Oikawa really needs that shower when he makes it back to his room.

“Iwa-chan, you need to relax a little more.”

Oikawa grins, putting a hand on his hip. He arrive early to the yoga class, and already chose a spot to set himself up. Iwaizumi, on the other hand, walks in just before it starts, and looks a little out of place in some black sweatpants, and a white sleeveless shirt. He shrugs his shoulders, but it looks a little bit forced. He’s clearly out of his element.

Or maybe he’s a little distracted by the fact that Oikawa’s chosen his favourite yoga outfit for the morning, a pair of yoga pants ( tight yoga pants) and a black and white crop top. Whatever.

“Relax a little. Come over here.” Oikawa nods over to the spot he’s chosen, and Iwaizumi takes a yoga mat, rolling it out and sitting down in it. “If your muscles are all tense, you’re gonna pull something, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi lets out an annoyed groan at the teasing, but takes a breath and relaxes his shoulders. It’s much nicer to focus on the exposed view of Oikawa’s back, anyway.

“Good. Now, let’s - oh, it’s starting.” Oikawa turns over fully, to where he can get a better view of the instructor.

Oikawa’s been doing yoga for years, since he was a teenager. It helped keep him limber and agile back in his volleyball days, and now, he finds that it’s just so good for his overall health. He feels better when he’s keeping up with it.

He’s not sure how much Iwaizumi has done it - at least a little, maybe, he seems somewhat familiar with the routine, but he could just be faking it - but Oikawa doesn’t hold back. There’s no do whatever you can, for him. He starts off slow, with the opening sequence, but stretches himself into positions following the instructor.

Iwaizumi doesn’t do a whole hell of a lot. He’s a little distracted watching the arch of Oikawa’s back as he leans forward, stretching his back muscles, before switching to another position, this time showing off the curve of his thighs, and ass, and, yeah- fuck. Oikawa looks back just in time to catch Iwaizumi looking, a triumphant smirk making its way across his face.

He huffs, choosing to try his best and stretch out to reach his toes. “Don’t get too cocky Shittykawa, I could bench your weight and not break a sweat,” he grumbles, to which Oikawa laughs.

“Oh? I’d like to see that, Iwa-chan.”

Even Oikawa’s not sure if he’s serious or not.

 It’s three hours later when the first round of afternoon interviews are over, and Oikawa can loosen his tie while they eat before Iwaizumi starts warming up and seriously getting ready for his fight.

Oikawa picks away at his fish as Iwaizumi picks a lean, easy meal to eat. He’s quiet, but Oikawa doesn’t really care - it was pretty clear that he didn’t enjoy the interviews, so he’s not going to force him to talk now.

“That went really well,” Kuroo chimes in, between bites of his meal, “How did you find it, Iwaizumi?”

He looks up from his vegetables before nodding. “It was good. Oikawa was fast but not too fast that it was hard to keep up.” Oikawa smiles at the assurance, nodding once.

“Good. That’s good. Tooru, it wasn’t too much either? There was only supposed to be one interviewer, not three.” Kuroo makes a face, obviously annoyed at the sudden change of plans.

“Oh, it was fine, Tetsu! I kept up just fine.” He laughs, “And plus, they all thought my accent was cute.” He grins, but Iwaizumi makes a face, caught somewhere between annoyed and amused. Oikawa turns his attention back to his food before he spends too much time staring.

“Good, that’s great.” Kuroo finishes the last of his food, chewing and then swallowing quickly; he always seems to be in a hurry, like he has a million things to do. “Alright, so Iwaizumi, you have the next two hours to start warming up, and whatever else you do to prepare. The gym is open. The first fights start then, and yours is at 7 o’clock. Okay?” Iwaizumi doesn’t answer, so Kuroo jabs him hard in the side - Iwaizumi grumbles, annoyed and turns over to Kuroo.

“Yes, yes, I got it. Seven.” Iwaizumi huffs, and tries to focus back on his food.

“Okay. Oikawa, you’ve got seats reserved for you. At the door, just give them your name, you’re on the list.”

“The list?” Oikawa grins, “Alright, do I need to be doing anything?”

Kuroo shakes his head, pulling out his phone. “No. There will be a short interview right after the fight - just a couple of minutes - so as soon as the fight is over, just walk to the back and meet up with Iwaizumi when the staff get to him.”

“Walk back?”

“Yeah, I mean - if you want to watch the fight that is.” Kuroo shrugs, “It’s your call. Either way, I gotta get going. You good?” Oikawa and Iwaizumi both nod, so Kuroo takes his leave; Iwaizumi and Oikawa both finish up quickly thereafter, and gather up their things.

“So, I guess…” Oikawa clears his throat, “Good luck, or whatever? I feel like I shouldn’t tell a fighter to ‘break a leg’.”

Iwaizumi snorts with laughter, “Yeah, good luck works. Thanks. I’ll see you in a bit, then.” He turns, and heads out the door, sparing one last look back before leaving.

Now, Oikawa considers getting a head-start on all the sights that he wants to see while in Vegas.

Of course, there’s the typical gambling, and drinking, and seeing a good show, or just getting completely sloshed while trying not to melt in the heat. He could do some shopping, or take a scenic walk - there’s a lot of options.

Instead, he decides to head back to the hotel, and get his - or rather, the company’s  - money’s worth of the spa services that they have to offer.

And, it’s pretty much the best couple of hundred dollars he’s not had to spend on himself.

The shower in the spa is heavenly, and he spends way too long in there - but he’s not paying for the water, so he really couldn’t care. He cleans every inch of himself with the fancy soaps they have to offer, and is very happy to walk out smelling clean and fresh. He’s relaxed and content by the time he gets a massage, followed by a manicure and pedicure. He’s pretty much in heaven. He makes a mental note to thank Kuroo for this, but he’s also pretty sure that he’s not going to remember by the time he sees him next.

It’s quiet, though - and he’s given a lot of time to think.

And the one thing that’s rattling around in his brain, even more than before, is how good it felt to have Iwaizumi watching him, this morning. He remembers the little view he got of his abs, too, and he’s pretty much in heaven.

He figures there’s no harm in fantasizing a little, mainly because he knows he’s not going to just let Iwaizumi have his way.

The thing is, he knows Iwaizumi has a reputation for sleeping around.

Of course he did some research when he found out who the fighter was (Okay, it was a ten-minute Google search in the airport), but one of the first things he found out was that. It’s fine, of course - it’s his life, he’s free to lead it as he pleases - but Oikawa’s not one to buy into that. Iwaizumi thinks he can just have?

Think again.

Oikawa finally makes his way up to his room, and into some clean clothes just before he has to leave. He’s going to be working, so he picks something that’s a little nicer - some slacks and a nice teal shirt - taking with him nothing but his wallet, and his phone. He’ll need it to get in contact with Kuroo, just in case he needs him for anything, and he’s figuring that after the match would be a great time to visit one of the many bars or clubs on the strip and get himself properly shit-faced drunk.

The gym is thankfully close to their hotel, and by the time Oikawa gets there, it’s already packed.

The scale of this event hadn’t really hit him until now, and it makes his blood run cold.

There are people everywhere - fans, screaming and trying to buy last-minute tickets, to no avail. There’s cameras, and security upon security. Some fighters walking in, basically having to fight their way through the crowd. It’s intense.

Oikawa’s nobody famous, but even he gets some attention, and he hears some comments as he tries to slip through - he’s attractive enough to be noticed, he knows that, but these are strangers, and it feels weird.

He gets to the door, where the Terminator stares him down. He looks at him hard, until Oikawa remembers -

“Oh, um, I’m an interpreter for one of the fighters. Tooru Oikawa?” He feels nervous, but, the guy (who is built like a brick shithouse, but apparently isn’t even a fighter ), nods and moves out of the way.

“Go ahead. Down the hall on your right, through the big swinging doors. Look for a very tall woman with short black hair, she’ll give you some ID.”

Oikawa nods quickly, and slips through the doors. He remembers the instructions, and finds the woman - she must be some sort of manager - who hands him a pre-made ID, featuring an awful picture Kuroo must have pulled from the depths of his social media, the bastard. Oikawa slips the lanyard around his neck, and goes to where he’s directed.

He’s honestly not very interested in watching the fights, but he figures he’ll at least watch Iwaizumi when he goes out. At the very least, he’s intrigued enough to want to see him rolling around half-naked, beating the shit out of some dude.

So when the time comes for Iwaizumi’s fight, Oikawa slips out of the back and into the arena.

The first thing that hits him is the noise .

It’s loud.

The stands are absolutely packed, people sitting all the way back in the nosebleeds, shouting and screaming for their fighters, mostly in English but some other languages in the mix. Some people are drinking, others are eating, but everyone’s eyes are on the ring.

Oikawa turns just to see the referee pulling apart two fighters, announcing the winner, and the crowd loses it.

He’s never seen such excitement. It’s intoxicating.

People are on their feet, and Oikawa is almost swept away in it; there’s screaming, and it’s all incoherent, but he can feel it , the energy and pure exhilaration just radiating from the ring, and from everyone who is here to enjoy it.

He’s not sure how he makes it to his seat, but when he does, he grabs on to the arm wrests and holds the fuck on, needing to ground himself and focus a little.

But he can’t, because Iwaizumi’s walking out now, opposite another fighter. He looks hyped up and ready - he’s just wearing a pair of black shorts, fixing a pair of black gloves onto his hands, but it’s clear that he’s focused. He’s ready. He’s in the zone.

And this time, Oikawa lets himself get swept away.

He can’t hear anything over the buzzing in his ears as the fight starts, and the movement is immediate.

Oikawa inhales a deep breath as the fighter lunges at Iwaizumi, but he’s too fast; he easily evades, jumping backwards, and is on top of him within a matter of seconds.

The first round is the fastest five minutes of Oikawa’s life.

Iwaizumi has a strong grip, the muscles in his arms trembling with effort as he holds his opponent down; he’s nearly knocked over as he tries to flip them, but Iwaizumi leverages himself out, and tightens his grip around the other fighter’s neck.

They both hold on, for dear life. Iwaizumi takes a punch to the face as his opponent struggles, and get his way out.

The fight starts over again, and Oikawa is on the edge of his seat.

It feels like seconds have passed when the buzzer goes, and both fighters have to take a step back, back to their own side of the ring.

Oikawa remembers how to breathe.

The second round brings a shift of momentum, Iwaizumi getting pinned by his opponent. He struggles, sweat dripping down his brow with effort, but it’s no easy feat; they’re evenly matched. Oikawa feels the adrenaline racing when Iwaizumi manages to trip him up, and flips them both over; they’re grappling, the fight becoming more desperate, more heated.

Oikawa’s not sure how he manages to survive this.

It’s engaging, it’s exciting, it’s enthralling - Oikawa can’t look away. Every fiber of his being is completely on edge as he feels a rush unlike anything he’s felt at all in a long time. He wants to grab it, hold it; cling to it.

Iwaizumi has his opponent down, in a tight hold; it looks impossible to break, and the crowd is absolutely losing it. The other fighter struggles, and manages to hit him once, before submitting.

Then he’s on his feet and screaming, pulled up by the person next to him, when Iwaizumi is announced as the winner; Iwaizumi looks out into the crowd, and Oikawa’s sure that he smiles when he sees that Oikawa’s watching.


Oikawa remembers Kuroo’s instructions, and forces his feet to move - his heart is hammering in his chest, and he bumps into a dozen people along the way, before flashing his identification and getting into the back. He stumbles, almost tripping over his own two feet but managing to follow the cameras and the sound of people to where Iwaizumi is.

He’s already got a few people with him, and cameras. Shit. Oikawa runs a hand through his hair, and takes a breath to calm his racing heart, but it doesn’t work.

Iwaizumi spots him, and quickly waves him over. Oikawa joins him, immediately falling into his role.

This gives him something to focus on, something to distract himself from what he just saw.

Most importantly, he can distract himself from how unbelievable he feels.

As soon as the interview is over, Iwaizumi turns to head back to the room where he can get changed. Not sure what to do with himself, Oikawa follows and waits for him. He’s just about ready to start tapping his foot when Iwaizumi walks out, now wearing a clean white shirt and a pair of black sweatpants (God, do any of his pants not ride tantalizingly low on his hips?) that makes Oikawa’s head spin even more. He’s wiped the blood from his face as best as he can, leaving only a couple of cuts, mainly one stretching across his right eyebrow.

Oikawa resists the urge to touch it.

Words are lost, but apparently Iwaizumi is ready to pick up some of the slack. “I saw you watching. Did you like the fight?”

Oikawa bites his lip, forcing himself to maintain eye contact and nod. “Yeah. It was pretty incredible.”

“You’ve never been to one before?” He asks, nodding down the hall to where they need to go. Oikawa follows, and shakes his head.

“No, never.” He inhales. “It was… intense.”

Iwaizumi hums, “Yeah, they are… especially your first.” He’s grinning, as he opens up the back door where the fighters can walk out in relative peace.

Oikawa just nods to show he’s listening, but doesn’t say much else or risk give away how flustered he really feels. He looks up to see Iwaizumi looking across the lot, to where the fans are gathered, still screaming and trying to get in. Oikawa’s about to open his mouth, but Iwaizumi beats him to it. “Let’s get back to the hotel. I really need a shower.”

Oikawa swallows thickly. “Yeah. Okay.”

 The car ride back to the hotel is probably the most tense five-minute car ride of his life. The tension in the air is so thick he’s pretty sure you could cut it with a butter knife.

Iwaizumi’s watching him; he can feel his gaze, roaming around his body, but he can’t bring himself to look up and meet his eye. It’s annoying - he’s not some little submissive kitten that Iwaizumi can just bring back to his hotel room for a quick fuck after a fight.

Even though that option seems really, really appealing right now.

They make it back to the hotel room, and neither of them are talking yet. Oikawa slides into the elevator, and is grateful when they’re not the only two in there.

Except the other two occupants get off on the second floor. Great.

He presses the button for his floor, 6 , a few times, while he waits. The elevator dings, and the doors slide open.

Oikawa’s about to get out, but Iwaizumi puts a hand on his arm, voice low, and heavy.

“Want to come up with me?”

Oikawa stops, slowly, and lets the elevator doors close in front of him.

Chapter Text

“Want to come up with me?”

Oikawa’s breath catches in his throat, so many thoughts swirling around in his head. Had he thought about what it would be like if Iwaizumi invited him up to his room? Of course. Did he fantasize about it once? Maybe. But, no matter what, he was sure that if it happened, he’d say no.

Because what’s the point, really? He’s sure Iwaizumi knows what he’s doing in bed, but what after that? Nothing? Oikawa didn’t see the point.

Now, though… he sees things a little differently.

He’s still on edge from the fight; it was thrilling to watch, and he felt a rush unlike anything he’d experienced in a long time. He’s gotten so used to just surviving , that this feeling of being so alive - this burst of adrenaline - is something that he’s not ready to let go of yet. Even if it’s just for one night, just for now, he wants to feel more of this. He needs to.

So he steps back into the elevator, and lets the doors close in front of him. He turns back to Iwaizumi, who’s watching him intently; his gaze telling Oikawa exactly what he intends to do once they’re alone. There’s no misunderstandings when he replies, “Yes.”

Iwaizumi nods, a smile crossing his face. He takes a step closer to Oikawa and invades his personal space; he reaches out, experimentally placing a hand on the small of Oikawa’s back. It sends a shiver up his spine (God, how long has it been since he’s been touched like that ?) and Iwaizumi’s grin grows lustful at Oikawa’s sensitivity.

The elevator ride feels about two seconds long, and they’re stepping out of the elevator way too quickly. Oikawa remembers where Iwaizumi’s room is, but he’s led by Iwaizumi anyway, steady pressure on his back. The touch does nothing but help build the anticipation.

Iwaizumi opens the door, and Oikawa licks his lips. His mouth feels dry and heavy; he doesn’t think he could find words if he wanted to, but it’s not like he’s here to talk. Iwaizumi leaves his side, stepping further into the room, heading right for the main room and throwing open the mini-fridge. Oikawa watches, still standing, as Iwaizumi pulls two bottles of beer from the fridge. He cracks one open, walking over and passing it to Oikawa, who manages to work his hand enough to actually accept it. Iwaizumi opens the second, taking a step back and taking a nice, long sip.

Maybe it’ll help with his nerves, so Oikawa tentatively takes a sip, not really liking or disliking the flavour he’s met with. It’s fine, he decides, so he goes to take a longer sip - and just about spits it out when Iwaizumi pulls his dirty shirt off with one hand, throwing it off towards the door to the bedroom.

Oikawa coughs, swallowing his drink, unable to do anything other than watch . Iwaizumi’s back is turned to him - and God, what a gift. This is seriously unfair. Iwaizumi’s built as fuck, and with every movement he makes, the muscles in his back flex and tense. If Oikawa could find it in himself to move, he’d be tracing out each individual muscle, fingers pressed against his warm skin. He aches to do it, really; Iwaizumi is half-naked, swallowing down the rest of his beer, finishing the entire bottle in one go. He finishes it with a satisfied sigh, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He’s still covered in sweat, dried blood above one eye. He drops the empty bottle on the table, heading to grab another one to help cool off. He pops off the cap, and nods over towards the couch.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll go shower first.” He takes another sip of his beer, stopping to touch Oikawa’s face before heading to the shower. He lifts up his hand, dragging his thumb across Oikawa’s chin, and then lips; he grins before turning to leave.

Oikawa doesn’t know how to ask to join him - doesn’t know how to say that this whole disgusting thing is actually really, really hot - but he can’t not speak up. “No! Don’t!” Iwaizumi stops at his voice, turning to look back at Oikawa. “I mean… you don’t have to go… by yourself…”

He may as well have asked Iwaizumi to torture him. The man in question throws him a smile, stepping right back into his space. “Oh? I don’t?” His smile turns devilish, and Oikawa’s body feels hot, “You want to join me? Is that why you came up with me, Tooru?” Oikawa nearly gasps and blushes at the use of his first name, but Iwaizumi doesn’t even give him time to respond. “We’re in America, Tooru. Everyone here calls you by your given name - don’t you think that I should, too?” He brings his hand up, fingers tangling on Oikawa’s soft hair. He gives it a little tug, just bordering on painful. “You should call me Hajime, too.”

Oikawa’s lost the ability for words at this point, just nodding uselessly. Right now, he’ll do anything to keep Iwaizumi in his space.

“Well? Do you want me, Tooru? I won’t know unless you tell me.” It’s so clear he’s enjoying this - his grin is a mile wide, and all of his attention is focused on Oikawa, who tries to draw in a breath and remember how to speak again.

After a beat of silence, Oikawa manages to spit it out. “Yes,” he says, quietly, swallowing in a feeble attempt to be rid of his dry throat, but at this point, it’s a thirst he can’t quench on his own. Iwaizumi nods, and slides his hands down the back of Oikawa’s head, down his neck, meeting behind his back, before sliding even lower and cupping his ass. Oikawa inhales sharply, and Iwaizumi squeezes, letting out pleased little hum.

“Then come on.” Iwaizumi begrudgingly pulls his hands off Oikawa. It’s a shame, but Oikawa is dying to get his hands on Iwaizumi, to feel those muscles for himself, to see what else he’s been teasing him with under the rest of his clothes. Oikawa follows him, ready to tug off the rest of Iwaizumi’s clothes as soon as he’s given the opportunity.

But he isn’t.

Iwaizumi steps into the bathroom, throwing open the shower door to start the water. He turns the tap up high; hot steam flows from it within minutes, but Oikawa isn’t paying attention, because Iwaizumi turns his attention back to him immediately after. Iwaizumi can’t keep his hands to himself. He finds Oikawa’s face again, hands cupping his cheeks, sliding down his body and under his shirt. Oikawa inhales sharply; Iwaizumi’s hands are warm, and a little wet, pressing against his abdomen. He tugs off Oikawa’s shirt without effort, tossing it down and onto the floor. He wastes no time in finding the button of his jeans, undoing it with haste, so that he can be rid of those, too. Oikawa’s naked in no time, feeling a little on display with the way that Iwaizumi’s looking at him.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi groans under his breath as he looks Oikawa up and down. He’s built nothing like Iwaizumi – where he is all solid muscle, broad shoulders and strong arms, Oikawa is lean and long, limbs stretching on deliciously and giving so much to appreciate. Iwaizumi grips his hips, sliding his thumbs down towards the sensitive skin of his groin, but pulls them back up before he even gets close to where Oikawa desperately wants him to touch. Instead, he presses his palms flat to Oikawa’s skin, trailing up his abdomen and chest, sliding around to grip his shoulder blades.

Every touch to Oikawa’s skin leaves a hot trail in its wake; he shivers, not even caring how obvious it is, when Iwaizumi leans down to press a hot kiss to his collarbone. “Fuck, Tooru, you’re beautiful,” he says into Oikawa’s skin, noting with delight how it makes his cock jump.

Oikawa has to distract himself somehow, and finds that distraction in finally getting to touch Iwaizumi. He presses himself in close, loving the skin-on-skin contact, and finally wrapping his arms around him to get to touch his back. He closes his eyes; it’s even better than he imagined. He presses into the muscles there, feeling them twitch under the pressure, and flex when Iwaizumi moves. It’s getting too hot, and Oikawa needs to get his mouth on him, but first…

Oikawa pushes against Iwaizumi’s chest, who pauses, and then pulls back at the action. He gives Oikawa a confused look, only to be met with a nod towards the shower.

“It’s gonna get cold,” is all he says, but it’s enough. Iwaizumi hears his urgency. The fighter pulls him along, backing into the shower and pulling Oikawa with him. The hot water hits their skin without mercy, relaxing and revitalizing at the same time.

Iwaizumi doesn’t give him much room, staying crowded up in his space, hands touching all over his body. Massaging up his back, sliding up his sides, tangling in his hair. Oikawa closes his eyes, sighing, and letting it happen. Iwaizumi leans in close, and then away, a little. “Let’s clean you up first.”

Oikawa breathes in, and nods. “Then you?”

He’s met with a breathy chuckle. “Sure.” Iwaizumi uncaps his body wash, and pours a liberal amount on a shower cloth, pressing it to Oikawa’s skin. He moves with a surprising amount of care; his touch is more gentle than Oikawa expected it to be. Iwaizumi takes his time, making sure to soap up every part of his body, following with his hands to help wash off the soap.

It feels so, so good. The pressure traveling across his skin makes Oikawa’s breath jump, and he lets his eyes slide closed to focus more on the feeling. Iwaizumi ditches the cloth after a while, choosing just to use his hands to massage. He finishes with Oikawa’s arms, chest, and back; he takes his time feeling his way down to his ass, cupping it between his hands and squeezing. Oikawa gasps and jolts forward a little out of surprise; Iwaizumi goes slowly to get him used to the feeling, sliding a finger experimentally between Oikawa’s cheeks, chuckling at the soft sound he’s rewarded with.

He descends lower, fingertips pressing into Oikawa’s strong thighs. “Fuck, you’ve got such nice legs,” he comments, grinning when that gets him a moan as reward. Oikawa’s got a praise kink a mile long and Iwaizumi is looking forward to exploiting it fully.

Not wanting to get too far without Oikawa getting his turn, Iwaizumi reluctantly removes his hands, passing Oikawa the cloth instead. He opens his eyes when the material is pressed between his fingers, flashing a smile at Iwaizumi. He’s been looking forward to this.

Oikawa isn’t gentle like Iwaizumi was. He knows he can handle it - and plus, he’s been thinking about touching these abs for hours, since he saw him fighting in the ring. He presses in hard to his six-pack abs, biting his lip because fuck , they feel even harder than he’d imagined.

Everything about Iwaizumi is beyond gorgeous; everything from his strong back muscles, to his powerful thighs - fuck, even his cock is gorgeous. It’s thicker than Oikawa’s and dark in colour, with veins running up the shaft, right to its thick head. He’s hard, and there’s already precum leaking from the tip. Oikawa finds himself wanting to touch it really, really badly.

But, he knows that the second he does, things are going to switch gears, and he’s not ready yet. He’s spent too long lusting over this body to not give it the proper attention that it deserves.

He takes his time in washing off all the sweat from his back, digging his fingers into the tense muscles there. He makes a point of discovering every scar, every mark, every bruise - he touches above his eye with care, thumb brushing over the new cut from his latest fight. Iwaizumi watches him, quietly, just allowing him time to explore.

That is, until something catches his eye. He stops Oikawa, brushing a hand through his hair, thumb brushing behind his ear. “What’s this?” He turns Oikawa enough to get a good look behind his ear, and sees the intricate inking of a tattoo there.

He runs the tips of his fingers across it, and vaguely connects what it is, a tiny Rebel Alliance symbol from Star Wars. Oikawa flushes, pulling away, embarrassed. He turns his head so that Iwaizumi can’t see it, sputtering in embarrassment. Before he can try to pull away, Iwaizumi wraps his arms around his waist, squeezing tightly, husky voice in his ear. “What other secrets do you have, baby?”

Fuck, this isn’t fair. Iwaizumi’s hands are big and strong, sliding down his sides, traveling lower and lower, until they stop, holding on tight to his thighs.

“Are you clean?” Iwaizumi asks, nosing against the middle of his back, alternating between tiny bites and kisses.

“What?” Oikawa mumbles - everything is hazy, why is he trying to talk -

“You’re clean?” He asks again, “because I really, really want to eat you out.” His voice is low and heavy and sounds wonderful against Oikawa’s throat.

Oh. It clicks, and Oikawa nods feverishly. He doesn’t mention how long it’s been since he’s even had sex. Iwaizumi hums, appreciatively, dropping down to his knees.

Oikawa’s really, really not prepared for this.

He inhales; Iwaizumi kisses his lower back, trailing kisses lower and lower until he gets to his destination. He lays his palms flat, pulling apart Oikawa’s ass cheeks and leaning in to properly appreciate him. Oikawa sucks in a breath, resting his palms against the wall as Iwaizumi licks around his hole, pushing his tongue in and holding absolutely nothing back.

Iwaizumi’s merciless in his assault, alternating between slow, careful licks and nips to Oikawa's exposed skin. After a particularly hard suck, Oikawa let's out a loud moan, banging his fist against the shower wall. “Sh-shit… Hajime….” He whines, knees trembling; he feels hot, and this unfamiliar feeling is overwhelming. He’s so sensitive.

His grin grows wide, and he replaces his tongue with a wet finger, pressing in where the muscles have loosened. “Should I stop?” Oikawa shakes his head back and forth rapidly, but Iwaizumi’s not letting him off that easy. “What’s that, princess? I can’t hear you.” He leans in to nip again at his ass, a little harder this time, “Good boys use their words.”

Oikawa lets out a frustrated whine - and God, Iwaizumi is loving it - but he complies, licking his lips and forcing his voice out, however quiet it may be. “Don’t stop,” he whimpers, “ Please , Hajime.”

That’s all that he needs to hear.

Iwaizumi moves a hand, wrapping it around Oikawa’s cock. He moves his thumb over the head, smearing the precum there so that he can touch him with more ease. He strokes his cock slowly, picking up speed, as he presses his lips against the tattoo behind Oikawa’s ear.

Oikawa’s embarrassed to admit it, but it’s been way too long. He’s been balancing precariously on the edge ever since they started this, and it all starts to bubble over with Iwaizumi’s hand on his cock, and his voice in his ear, whispering dirty things to him - he’s so turned on at this point. Iwaizumi can feel him shivering against him, and with another firm stroke he comes, letting out a long, drawn-out moan that Iwaizumi can feel deep in his bones. His mouth falls open and Iwaizumi listens to him gasp for breath, coming in spurts, Iwaizumi stroking him through it. Oikawa sags against him, head tipping back to rest on his shoulder, his eyes sliding closed. Iwaizumi slowly lets go of his cock, adjusting the water to let it roll down Oikawa’s body, washing the cum off his belly. Oikawa fidgets away when Iwaizumi touches him, but lets him trail his fingers down the sensitive skin there until he’s clean again.

“Tooru, fuck… can I get two out of you?” He licks his lips; this was the hottest thing he’s seen in a long time, and he’s not ready for it to be over.  

Oikawa might have come, but Iwaizumi’s still hard against him. He gives Oikawa a few seconds to rest and lean against him, before reaching to turn off the water, and guide him out of the shower. Oikawa moves, albeit slowly, leaning back against the counter. Iwaizumi grabs them both towels, draping one over Oikawa’s shoulders. He leaves him there to rest while he quickly dries himself off, dropping his towel on the floor and moving the white, fluffy towel across Oikawa’s body. He ruffles his hair, to which Oikawa sticks his bottom lip out in protest.

Iwaizumi wants to kiss it, so he does. He draws him in, slowly, for their first actual, proper kiss. Oikawa breathes into it, but he kisses back pointedly and with purpose. Iwaizumi could get lost in this, if he let himself.

But he doesn’t.

He pulls away and finishes drying Oikawa off, throwing the towel down on to the floor. He’s ready to drag him to the bedroom and finish what they started, but Oikawa stands firm in his spot and shakes his head.

“Wait wait wait! I can’t leave after a shower without putting on lotion first.” Oikawa flashes Iwaizumi a smile, who feels like he’s hard enough to explode at this point.

“Are you serious?” Iwaizumi guides him up, until he’s sitting on the counter top, and it would be so easy to just lean him back a little further to finish prepping him-

“Yes! If I don’t my skin gets all irritated and dry. It’s not fun. Please?” Oikawa’s at Iwaizumi’s mercy, and he knows it. If he wanted to, he could refuse, and just take what he wants. That thought… it’s thrilling. Oikawa watches while Iwaizumi contemplates, running his fingers up Oikawa’s thighs, eyes dark and lustful.

But he agrees.

“Fine,” Iwaizumi nods, searching through the bathroom and coming up with the hotel-sized complimentary bottle of lotion. “This is all I have though.”

“That’s fine,” Oikawa nods, taking the bottle and uncapping it. He inhales, liking the soft scent of lavender and rosemary. “It smells good.” Iwaizumi takes the bottle back. If he can’t fuck Oikawa yet, he’s at least taking the opportunity to feel him up by covering his body with lotion.

Iwaizumi honestly has no idea why he’s taking the time to do this, but it feels good. He smooths his hands out down Oikawa’s chest, and his stomach first, enjoying Oikawa’s sensitivity as he presses lower, down to the insides of his thighs. Oikawa lifts his legs to give him better access, and Iwaizumi takes absolute advantage of it.

He goes more slowly than he expects himself to - his patience is wearing thin, but Iwaizumi stretches it to the limits of what he can handle. Getting to feel up Oikawa is a good appetizer anyhow, and the more he touches and massages Oikawa’s body, the more turned on he gets. Soon enough he’s got Oikawa hard again, and it was entirely worth it when Iwaizumi’s able to pull him in close, pressing their bodies flush together.

“Ready now?” He whispers, nudging the side of his face with his nose.

Oikawa nods, and Iwaizumi’s happy - no more excuses, no more delays, nothing. He hoists Oikawa up, who wraps his legs around him, and carries him out and back to the bedroom.

Iwaizumi’s not holding back.

His hands are everywhere, strong against Oikawa’s back, slipping under his thighs to drop him down on the bed. He flips him over, biting into one smooth shoulder hard - Oikawa whines, shaking underneath him, gasping into the pillow he’s pushed down on to.

His back arches when Iwaizumi presses a finger into him, and then two, liberally lubricated. He leaves marks, red and angry, up Oikawa’s back while he does so, whispering praise into his ear. Within minutes, he’s ready again, aching with need, and Iwaizumi is so done with being patient.

Oikawa’s overstimulated already from having come once, but Iwaizumi doesn’t care - he just manages to tear open a condom and he’s sliding in, slick and hot and so ready to fuck up Oikawa.

He doesn’t give Oikawa time to adjust, only leans in close to ask, “Ready, baby?” waiting only for a nod before he’s moving.

Iwaizumi fucks like he fights. Hard, fast, and unforgiving. Oikawa is tight and hot, and it’s so, so worth the wait - Iwaizumi can only groan, increasing his pace, gasping when Oikawa starts to whimper his name, his given name, like a mantra, like a prayer. Iwaizumi tangles his fingers in Oikawa’s hair, leaning down against him, most of his weight pinning Oikawa down; he mouths at his neck as he thrusts, the new angle hitting nice and deep.

Oikawa arches his back, keening and grasping at the sheets, desperate for something, anything , to hold on to, to ground himself. He’s close, so close he can taste it - then it’s gone. The weight at his back leaves him, and Iwaizumi pulls out; Oikawa’s ready to complain until strong hands flip him on his back, smoothing down his sides.

Every fiber of his being aches for Iwaizumi to be close again, to be in him; he has to focus, has to listen over the sound of his own heartbeat, when he hears Iwaizumi’s voice. This time, Iwaizumi leans in close, whispering the words between their lips.

“What do you need, Tooru?”

Christ, he’s playing with him , and Oikawa’s not one to be reduced to begging. Except, maybe, by one Iwaizumi Hajime.

“W-Wanna come, Hajime!”

Iwaizumi grins, predatory and wolfish, and it sends a shiver down his spine. The things he wants this man to do to him. “And how should I do that?” He asks, brushing the tips of his fingers around the head of Oikawa’s dick. He squeezes it between two fingers, and Oikawa curls up as he cries out. A few drops of precum leak from the tip, and Iwaizumi swirls his fingers in it, licking it off with a pleased hum. “Eager, are we?”

Fire glints in Oikawa’s eyes as he grabs Iwaizumi’s jaw, “Fuck me until I come or I’ll do it myself.”

Iwaizumi’s not one to back down from a challenge. He repositions, throwing Oikawa a devilish smirk. “Hold the fuck on, Tooru. And don’t you dare touch yourself.” Oikawa nods, feverishly, the most delicious moan Iwaizumi has heard yet falling from his lips when he finally thrusts back in.

His eyes blink open, hazy and unfocused, able to see nothing but Iwaizumi. He’s in his space, hoisting a leg up on his shoulder, lips against his skin. Iwaizumi gives him the focus that he needs - he threads their fingers together with his free hand. Oikawa immediately squeezes his hand, crying out with pleasure.

Oikawa’s already oversensitive from his previous orgasm. His pleasure narrows down from a broad, warm fire, to a sharp electric one. Iwaizumi finds and assaults his prostate with practiced accuracy, each thrust sending a jolt of electricity up his spine, radiating through his entire body until it fizzles out in his toes and fingertips. The faster Iwaizumi moves, the faster his pleasure builds, until he can’t hear anything over the blood thundering in his ears.

He’s almost there, he just needs a little more - he reaches down to touch himself, but Iwaizumi slaps his hand away.

“What did I say, Tooru?”

He closes his eyes, straining, back arching, “I-I need it, Hajime, please-

“You come on my cock or you don’t come at all.”

Frustrated, Oikawa nearly growls and tips his head back, but he’s willing to trust him. Iwaizumi’s blown his mind so far, and he takes Oikawa’s hand again, helping him to relieve some of the pressure by letting him squeeze it.

Iwaizumi wants him to come just as badly as he wants to - he wants to watch his face as he comes, see that pretty face fall apart so that he can put it back together again. He thrusts in hard and with purpose, aiming right for that spot that makes him cry out in pleasure.

“Good boy,” he breathes, mouthing against his skin, “you can come now.”

And fuck, does he ever.

Oikawa tenses up even more than he was before, looking almost painful. His eyes roll back into his head and he moans, filthily , digging his fingernails deep into Iwaizumi’s skin. He shakes as he comes, shooting once, twice, and then a third time, cum landing on his sternum and pooling on his belly, dribbling out weakly in the aftershocks.

Oikawa's gone, and it's a good thing or else he'd definitely be embarrassed at how hard Iwaizumi’s staring; he's watching, entranced, memorizing how he looks because fuck if it isn't the most beautiful thing. Oikawa's oversensitive as hell now, but it's okay, because all it takes is one more thrust for Iwaizumi to finish too, exhaling a loud moan as he finishes.

Neither of them move right away. Iwaizumi stays on top of Oikawa, breathing heavily, and he brushes his fingers against Oikawa’s cheek. “Hey, hey. Tooru. You alive?”

A pitiful groan tells him that yes, yes he is alive.

He pauses for a moment, before slowly pulling out; Oikawa whines at the feeling, but doesn’t try to move and stop him. His eyes are already sliding closed as Iwaizumi slides off the bed, getting up to go and clean up. He slips into the bathroom, washing himself up with some warm water, taking a minute to check out his reflection in the mirror. He looks like he feels, which is exhausted, but in the very best way; the kind of exhausted he can only get after a fight and a really good fuck.

He takes a warm cloth back to give to Oikawa, but when he walks into the bedroom, he finds him already asleep, gentle and steady breathing right where he left him. So he cleans him up slowly, running the cloth against his skin, chuckling at how he twitches away, sensitive.

When he’s done, he tosses the cloth down on to the floor, climbing into bed. He tries to ignore the butterflies in his stomach at the way Oikawa curls up against him immediately, as if on instinct. He’s warm, and Iwaizumi just lets his fingers tangle in Oikawa’s hair, closing his eyes and letting sleep claim him.

Chapter Text

It’s the warmth that wakes Oikawa up.

It’s dark. He cracks open one eye, vision hazy, struggling to focus on the ceiling above him. White stucco stares back at him, and he lets his arm droop over his head, groaning. He knows it’s too early to be awake - there isn’t even a shred of light peeking into the room, and when he glances over at the window, the curtains aren’t even closed, so it’s definitely still late. He closes his eyes to try to get back to sleep.

He feels a little like he has a space heater, or something , in his bed. It’s nice, and something he definitely isn’t used to. Groaning a little, he rolls over and is met with the source of the heat.

Memories of the last night start flooding Oikawa’s system again, and he remembers-

He feels shifting beside him, and, yeah. That’s definitely Iwaizumi. Oikawa’s eyes blink open again and once they adjust, he starts to make out Iwaizumi lying in front of him. He’s facing Oikawa, one arm under his head, the other thrown in front of him. He looks relaxed, breathing heavily, expression calm.

Oh, and he’s naked. Oikawa has to catch himself before his eyes dip too low, because the thin sheets covering Iwaizumi aren’t hiding anything and Oikawa really doesn’t need to get turned on again. He only lets his eyes get as far as the very tempting treasure trail just below his navel before he averts his gaze. Although - wow, yeah, he’s still sensitive last night, from when Iwaizumi made him come not once - but twice.


Oikawa pushes away those thoughts for now, because he’s still thinking about the fact that he just had a one-night stand. He doesn’t really do these, but the protocol isn’t really to stay the night, is it?

Granted, he’d been so exhausted that he literally just passed out after they had sex - honestly, Oikawa doesn’t remember anything beyond Iwaizumi making him come and basically sending him to another plane of existence  - but Iwaizumi hadn’t woken him up. Hadn’t asked him to leave.

And now, Iwaizumi moves one of his hands so that it's resting on Oikawa’s arm, fingers curled around his wrist gently. If Oikawa were to move, to shake him off, surely Iwaizumi wouldn’t even wake up. Then Oikawa could leave, skulk back to his room in the middle of the night like a one-night stand is supposed to. Right?

But… Iwaizumi is warm. Like, really, really warm. Oikawa is used to sleeping alone, having to pile himself in his blankets and wait impatiently for when his body temperature finally warms them up to be comfortable, but it’s nothing like this. He really wants to just roll over and snuggle into Iwaizumi, take all the warmth that he can from him.

Getting up, leaving - Oikawa tosses those thoughts away the second that he shifts a little closer, and in his sleepy haze, Iwaizumi tightens his grip around Oikawa’s wrist, drawing him a little bit closer. Yeah, that thought is extremely unappealing when he’s warm and comfortable here.

Besides, they’re only here for a little while longer before they go back to Japan. He can deal with whatever awkwardness might come tomorrow morning.

He lets himself slide a little closer, and curls up against Iwaizumi’s hard chest, markedly warmer than he ever would have been if he’d gone back to his room.

The next time Oikawa wakes up, it’s because of his phone ringing..

He groans, groggily, shifting. There’s a heavy weight across his chest, and he wiggles out from underneath it, free only when Iwaizumi pulls his arm back with a heavy inhale.

He recognizes the ringtone right away - it’s Kuroo, for fuck’s sake. What does he want? Oikawa wouldn’t be getting out of bed at all if not for the little nagging voice in the back of his head that was worrying him. What if you’re late to an interview?

He digs his phone out from the pile of clothes on the floor, picking it up and silencing it right away. He looks back to the bed - Iwaizumi shifts, but doesn’t seem to be awake. He doesn’t bother grabbing any clothes before slipping out of the bedroom and closing the door behind him.

He presses the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Tooru!” Kuroo huffs into the phone, “I’ve only texted you a dozen times.”

“Sorry.” Oikawa rolls his eyes, leaning against the closed door. “I was sleeping.”

“Still? It’s after eleven!”

Oikawa hums, not really interested in divulging what had him so damn tired. Or rather, who.

“Whatever. I just wanted to let you know the interview is postponed, okay? It’s not until four now rather than at noon.”

“Great.” Oikawa nods to himself. He brings a hand up to rub over his face, trying to shake off how groggy he feels. “Same place?”

“Yeah.” Kuroo pauses, quietly. “Everything okay?”

“Perfect,” Oikawa lies, like he didn’t just break pretty much every cardinal rule he had because of Iwaizumi Hajime and his stupid fucking six-pack. He looks like a fucking underwear model, not a real life human being. Christ. He’s not supposed to do one-night stands.

“Okay.” Kuroo doesn’t sound like he buys it, but he doesn’t push it for now. “Don’t be late. I’ll see you there.”

“Sounds good, see you.” Oikawa drops the phone into his hands, hanging up and letting out a soft breath.


He looks back at the door where Iwaizumi is sleeping. He didn’t seem to wake up when Oikawa stepped out, and it might be easier to just leave now before things get awkward.

His clothes are also on the other side of that door, though.

Oikawa briefly contemplates throwing caution to the wind and dashing back to his own room, but he’s pretty sure the hotel staff wouldn’t appreciate him running the halls naked.

...That, and his keycard is definitely in his jeans pocket, in the bedroom.

So he has to go back.

He wishes he’d had the sense to grab something so that he wasn’t walking back into the room stark naked, but he hadn’t had the sense. Oikawa opens the door slowly, slipping in and closing it behind him as quietly as he can. He looks over to the bed to watch Iwaizumi shift, rolling over and peering over towards the door.


An action that causes the sheet to slide right off his body, exposing himself in all of his naked glory. He looks groggy, not fully awake, so Oikawa doesn’t feel as ashamed at the fact that his eyes travel down his body, from his broad, strong chest down to his tight abs to that tantalizing trail of soft hairs that lead the way to his cock, which is already hard and looking very appealing.

Double fuck.

Iwaizumi grumbles something, bringing up a hand to rub over his face. He squints, and seems to register that Oikawa’s standing at the door. That realization apparently doesn’t please him, as he groans again, pulling the sheets back up, but opening them up enough in a silent invitation.

Oikawa swallows.

He should leave, he really should...

He doesn’t.

Instead, he walks back to bed, climbing in and letting himself get pulled back in by Iwaizumi’s warmth. He’s not an idiot, he knows why Iwaizumi wants him back in - Iwaizumi shifts, and he can feel he’s still hard - but Iwaizumi doesn’t do anything. He keeps his eyes closed, an arm around Oikawa, nosing into his hair. He clears his throat, voice heavy with sleep.

“Work call?” He asks, the only thing that would affect him. Right.

Oikawa nods, “It was Tetsu. The interview isn’t until four now, so we have a bit of time.” He feels Iwaizumi’s chest rumble as he hums, his thumbs rubbing along Oikawa’s hip. He exhales slowly, and they just lie there.

In bed.


Oikawa doesn’t know if he wants to relax back into it, but he lets himself anyway. He’s hovering between awake and asleep when Iwaizumi finally seems to come to, shaking off the rest of his morning haze with a heavy breath.

They don’t talk about what happened last night. That Oikawa didn’t leave-

That he’s still here -

Instead, Iwaizumi picks a safer topic to tread.

“You hungry?” Iwaizumi huffs, sitting himself up in bed, the sheets sliding down his body, exposing his back. Oikawa shivers. “I can order us something from room service.”

OIkawa quirks a brow, “With your extensive English skills?” He throws Iwaizumi a smirk, who looks back at him, unimpressed.

“The menu has numbers for all the meals, smartass. I can at least repeat a number.” He rolls his eyes, sliding off the bed. Oikawa opens his mouth to retort, but Iwaizumi turns around too fast. “And even I can look at the damn pictures. Go get in the shower.”

Oikawa snickers, but it’s short-lived. The sound catches in his throat when Iwaizumi stands off the bed, not even bothering to cover himself, walking off to go and use the phone.

He’s unfair, really. The man is sex on legs and he’s not even trying . It takes Oikawa an hour easy to get his look right, and Iwaizumi doesn’t even have to give it a second thought. It’s as infuriating as it is hot.

Figuring it’s high time he get a move on, Oikawa slides out of bed himself, slipping over towards the bathroom. He doesn’t bother grabbing his clothes on his way out, leaving them on the floor, mixed up with Iwaizumi’s; they can deal with all of that later. He’s much more interested in getting back in that shower. Man, he wishes his shower back home was this nice. He turns on the water and it’s hot in no time, steam rising from the shower floor. He doesn’t hesitate to step in, warmth surrounding him once again.

With the water waking up his senses, Oikawa sighs happily, just letting himself relax under the stream of water. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s been so calm in the morning. He needed this a lot more than he even realized. He reaches for the hotel bar of soap, starting to slowly move it across his stomach, washing off the remnants of their fun the previous night. He sighs as he lathers himself up, happy to shower in peace.

That is, until the bathroom door opens, quickly followed by the shower door. Oikawa opens his eyes and looks over to see Iwaizumi staring back at him, gaze heavy as it travels down Oikawa’s body, wet and willing and soaped up just right.

“Can I join you?” He asks, like there’s a universe in which the answer would not be a resounding yes. Oikawa nods anyway, stepping back a little to show Iwaizumi right where he wants him. He can’t take his eyes off of him as Iwaizumi steps in, closes the shower door behind him, and sticks his head right under the stream of water. He runs his hands through his hair, and Oikawa watches the water drip down his body, right past those killer abs to his still-hard cock.

He has to resist licking his lips at the sight. Fuck, was he always so thirsty, or is Iwaizumi just this fucking unbelievable?

...Maybe a bit of both, he decides, when Iwaizumi looks up and sees where he’s looking. He grins at Oikawa, straightening up, looking pleased as punch.

Yeah, he knows how hot he is. Whatever.

Oikawa focuses back on what he was doing, and rubs the bar of soap between his hands before touching it back against his skin. The distraction is welcome, and he rubs it back over his shoulder before he feels a hand on top of his.

He looks over at Iwaizumi, who is still wearing that devilish smirk. “Can I?” He asks, slipping the bar of soap out of Oikawa’s hands. Oikawa only watches, nodding dumbly, as Iwaizumi takes over the task.

He’s surprisingly gentle. He soaps up Oikawa’s body slowly and carefully, taking care to clean off everything from last night. It’s not as heated as last night; it’s slower, more sensual. Oikawa likes the change of pace.

This isn’t typical of a one-night stand. Oikawa knows this, but he doesn’t question it. How can he form coherent thoughts anyway, when Iwaizumi is just everywhere ?

Iwaizumi finishes the task of soaping him up, gripping his shoulders to pull him more under the stream of water. He lets the shower do the work of rinsing off the soap, choosing to run his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, humming.

“I don’t really have anything for you to wash your hair with… just whatever the hotel stocks,” Iwaizumi admits, tangling his fingers in Oikawa’s hair. “I can do that if you want.”

Oikawa nods, willing to let him do just about anything as long as he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. His scalp is a total weak point, and when Iwaizumi is massaging shampoo in his hair, it’s all he can do to not whine. He shifts, groaning a little under his breath when Iwaizumi switches up tactics, rubbing his fingers in circles behind Oikawa’s ears. The sensation makes his skin tingle, and he presses up close to Iwaizumi.

This time Iwaizumi groans, their cocks rubbing together with the movement. Oikawa opens his eyes, looking at Iwaizumi, who’s watching him intensely.

Oikawa repeats the movement, rolling his hips against Iwaizumi, watching as Iwaizumi twitches and moans.


That’s about all it takes to speed up the pace. Oikawa takes the lead this time, rocking against Iwaizumi, pressing a hand between them to squeeze. He feels his way down Iwaizumi’s cock, squeezing the base, pleased when his first full stroke rewards him with a sharp intake of break from Iwaizumi. He needs friction himself, so he settles for wrapping his hand around the both of them, applying strong pressure and starting a steady pace.

Iwaizumi is more vocal than Oikawa had expected. He drops his head down on Oikawa’s shoulder, hands finding purchase on Oikawa’s hips, mouth open. He moans unabashedly, bucking up into Oikawa’s fist in an attempt to get him to go faster. Oikawa doesn’t oblige, but feels Iwaizumi’s cock jump.

Maybe he’s not used to having someone else take the lead for once.

Well, Oikawa’s more than happy to take this one on.

He draws it out, enjoying feeling Iwaizumi’s breath on his skin. He can feel his own pleasure building and Iwaizumi is egging it on every step of the way. As he gets closer his grip falters, but Iwaizumi more than makes up for it by fucking his hand relentlessly.

It doesn’t take long before Oikawa’s biting his lip to try and hold back, he wants Iwaizumi to get there first - and he does, tilting his head back and letting out a moan, loud and dirty, the kind that reverberates off the walls, echoing in the bathroom. He comes all over Oikawa’s hand and his stomach, hips jerking uselessly as he rides it out. Oikawa follows, his own orgasm hitting him fast and dirty, whining as his cum mixes with Iwaizumi’s.

The pace slows before it stops; Oikawa forces his hand to keep moving, slowly, until both of them are breathing hard, leaning against each other for support. He slowly lets go, dropping his hand down to his side.

Iwaizumi laughs, looking up to meet Oikawa’s eye. “We probably should have done that before washing.” He reaches past Oikawa to pick up that bar of soap again, and, well - Oikawa isn’t complaining about it.

Well, a one-night thing becoming a few-days thing will be alright… as long as he doesn’t get attached.


Chapter Text

The weirdest part of all of this is that none of it really feels weird.

It’s… supposed to feel weird, isn’t it?

Oikawa has no experience with one-night stands to compare it to, really. The closest he’s ever gotten was bringing some guy home in college - and that did not end well when said guy puked all over his elevator, causing him to have to pay a cab to send him home - but from what he’s heard from friends and seen on television, a one-night stand is awkward.

You’re not friends. You’re not lovers.

So what the fuck are you?

He really has no idea, but that’s what’s puzzling about his morning with Hajime.

It’s… fine.

Better than fine, really.

Almost like they’re friends - but… not quite.

If he had to label it he’d pick friends with benefits, especially with the way Iwaizumi keeps touching him once Oikawa’s given him the go-ahead, only they really know next to nothing about each other, so the word friends feels weird to use.

Well, whatever. Oikawa cares markedly less about dissecting the intricacies of their relationship when Iwaizumi removes the hotel robe he’d donned through breakfast to get dressed. He’s either oblivious or just doesn’t care that Oikawa’s watching him, shamelessly walking around the hotel room naked and rummaging through his things, getting dressed one article of clothing at a time, painfully slow.

Oikawa’s head is spinning.

Iwaizumi looks over and Oikawa doesn’t even have the decency to look away and pretend like he isn’t watching his ass walk around in nothing but a pair of underwear.

“You need clothes?” He asks, nodding towards Oikawa’s outfit from yesterday, which is in a crumpled pile on the floor. “Or you wanna wear those?”

Oikawa makes a face, which Iwaizumi must take for an answer because he’s back rummaging through his suitcase, tossing things back for Oikawa to catch. Sweatpants… a t-shirt. Underwear. Nothing like anything Oikawa owns, and he must make a face again, because Iwaizumi snorts in laughter.

“It’s just to get you back to your room, princess.” He snorts, and Oikawa looks offended.

“It’s fine ,” Oikawa scoffs, placing the clothes down on the bed. He turns and drops down his robe, letting it pool at his feet. “I was just surprised that you were that thoughtful-” His breath catches and he lets out an undignified squeak when Iwaizumi slides him behind him and rests his hands on his hips, cold fingers pressing against his sensitive skin. He jumps a little, and Iwaizumi presses his warmth against his back.

“What was that? You were surprised about something?” Iwaizumi leans in a little, and mouths at the junction of Oikawa’s neck.

He doesn’t know why he lets him, but he does. It feels good.

“I’m surprised you’re so cuddly, Iwa-chan. You try to act all big and tough, but you like this kind of stuff too much-” He laughs when Iwaizumi nips at his earlobe.

“It’s kinda nice.” Iwaizumi shrugs, reaching in front of Oikawa to pick up the t-shirt, helping him into it. The fabric feels soft against Oikawa’s skin. “Want me to stop?”

Oikawa pauses before answering. “No.” It’s the truth, really. He doesn’t mind it. It feels good, and Iwaizumi doesn’t care - so why should he?

“Well,” Iwaizumi smirks, “There you have it, then. Now hurry your ass up if you’re coming with me to the gym. I’ve got a strict exercise regimen to stick to.”

“Roger!” Oikawa slips into the underwear Iwaizumi’s given him, and then the sweatpants. They’re a little baggy around his hips, and a little short in the leg. He turns to Iwaizumi, his grin saying exactly how amusing he finds that fast.

Iwaizumi looks down at his feet, with the sweatpants riding just a little bit above his ankle, and then back up at Oikawa’s extremely smug expression.

His grin grows predatory, and Oikawa feels a tremble of excitement rip through him.

“The gym can wait another half an hour.”

They do make it to the gym, but not until a full forty-five minutes later. Oikawa, of course, had to stop at his room and change - would he really miss such a prime opportunity to whip out the work-out clothes? - so by the time they walk in, Iwaizumi’s ready to start warming up.

The gym itself isn’t huge, so even though they both have different focuses, Oikawa still gets to watch Iwaizumi at work.

And boy - what a fucking sight.

They both warm up, stretch. Oikawa can’t help but grin a little smugly when he catches Iwaizumi watching him stretching half a dozen times despite what they’ve already done this morning.


Iwaizumi’s regular coach is apparently still back in Japan, but Kuroo’s found someone to work with him while he’s here, and she sets him up to work quickly. Oikawa is able to watch pretty easily as he decides to stick to yoga to start with. He’s still a little bit too sore to jump into anything too strenuous. It’s been long enough since he’s been fucked - and then like that ? Yeah. He needs a little time to recuperate.

Iwaizumi moves on to kicking practice, his coach holding up the kick mat while he moves through the proper forms. His muscles are tense, and Oikawa can’t help but watch the way that they move and flex with every motion, with every movement.

He fits in easily to the atmosphere. And, no - Oikawa is not jealous of the replacement coach he has working with him. He doesn’t need to be into women to tell how beautiful she is - long black hair pulled back into a ponytail, perfectly toned, sportswear clinging to her skin exactly as intended. She’s got the kind of form they make sportswear for, and Oikawa would be lying if he said she was anything but attractive.

Doesn’t mean he’s jealous though. Nope.

Iwaizumi moves to punching practice, with intervals of push-ups and burpees. Oikawa catches snippets of their conversation - to build stamina , he hears, although he knows that Iwaizumi probably doesn’t understand half of what the coach is telling him, with his limited English skills.

Oikawa sticks to what he knows, going for some free weights in between core exercises, sticking the floor work for now. He’s got no stamina for any cardio today.

He gets lost in what he’s doing, as he often does here. The yoga calms him, and the more relaxing exercises keep him focused. The gym is quiet enough that he can keep to himself, and when he looks up, the hour he’d planned to spend here is finished. He holds his form through the last round of planks he wants to do, looking over to find Iwaizumi finishing some weight lifting.

Oikawa sits himself up, working his body into some stretches to cool down. He always feels good after exercise - a little more calm, his mind at ease. His body feels light, and better than he did when he first came by.

After finishing up, Oikawa stands and walks over to where Iwaizumi is still weightlifting, his coach spotting him. She looks a little curiously at Oikawa, but he addresses Iwaizumi instead, knowing that she won’t understand them speaking in Japanese.

“Lifting weights?” Oikawa asks, grin on his face, leaning his weight on one foot. “How much can you lift?”

Iwaizumi looks up at him, smirk crossing his face as he lifts the weights back onto the bar. “More than you weigh, Oikawa.” He sits up, lifting his shirt to wipe some sweat from his face, giving Oikawa a teasing view of his abs. “You’re, what - seventy-five kilograms? Maybe eighty?”

Oikawa chuckles. “Not bad, Iwa-chan.” He steps over to check the amount of weights he’s lifting, clicking his tongue. “Not bad at all.”

Iwaizumi laughs, “Well, I’m almost done now, just gotta stretch. You all finished?”

“Mhm,” Oikawa hums, stepping back. “Gonna go shower now, I think. I’ll see you after?”

“I’ll meet you there,” Iwaizumi says, stepping up and brushing really close as he walks off to the floor to move into some cool-down stretches.

Oikawa leaves the gym, heading down to the changing rooms to go and shower. He’s not too sweaty - he didn’t do anything that really made him sweat too much - but he wants to be fresh for the interview.

The locker room is quiet, which he appreciates, dropping his gym bag down on the bench and pulling out what he needs. He strips out of his gym clothes, hanging his towel up just outside the shower and stepping in.

The water is hot to start, just as he likes it. He likes the locker rooms, here - everything is very private in America, and the shower stalls are no exception. It allows him to spread out his things, and really take his time. He doesn’t really need to wash his hair since he already did this morning, but he takes the time to rinse it out, soaping up the rest of his body, enjoying the scent of apples and spice that fills his lungs.

There’s some noise from outside the stall, but Oikawa doesn’t think anything of it until footsteps stop in front of the stalls.


It’s Iwaizumi, of course.

“In here,” he answers, rinsing some soap from his chest. Iwaizumi steps into the shower, closing the door behind him.

He grins, stepping under the stream of warm water. Oikawa meets his eye, looking amused.

“Good workout?” Iwaizumi asks, reaching out to rest his hands on Oikawa’s hips, thumbs brushing circles on his skin. It feels good, little tingles trailing up Oikawa’s spine. Iwaizumi steps a bit closer, fitting their bodies together, and Oikawa can feel how hard he is.

“Yes,” Oikawa nods, chuckling a little. He nods down towards Iwaizumi’s little problem. “Not as good as yours apparently was, though.”

“You know what exercise does to me…” he huffs a little, capturing Oikawa’s lips in a short, hard kiss. He tastes clean and fresh, in a way that Oikawa really likes. “Do you want to go again?”

It’s not really a question of if Oikawa wants to, but he knows he’s too sore and tired to go for another round - he’s not a teenager anymore, even though Iwaizumi seems to have the libido of one. He shakes his head, eyes dropping down to Iwaizumi’s lips, wanting to kiss him again. “Raincheck?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t seem to mind. He moves back enough to create a little distance between their bodies, dropping his head down on Oikawa’s shoulder, inhaling deeply. “That’s fine… you can watch me, if you’d like.”

Oikawa perks up at the suggestion.

“I’d be honoured.”

Oikawa smooths down the front of his shirt, adjusting his jacket. He checks his reflection in the mirror once again, just to be sure, even though he already knows that he looks good.

The only problem is, he doesn’t want to just look good. He wants to look great.

He doesn’t like feeling like Iwaizumi is always one step away from him, and he’s determined to change that.

The outfit he’s picked out for the interview is on point. He’s chosen a pair of navy blue dress pants with a fitted jacket to match. He goes simple with a white button-up underneath, but it’s one of the few outfits he’s had tailored and it fits him like a glove.

Stepping into his shoes, Oikawa picks up his phone to check the time: 3:25 pm. He has plenty of time, but a text message from Kuroo tells him to come down to the lobby once he’s ready.

So Oikawa checks his reflection in the mirror one last time - he’s satisfied with his hair, having brushed and styled it into place just the way he likes. He only needs his cell phone and his wallet, double checking to make sure he has his key card before heading off towards the lobby.

The elevator is waiting when he gets there, and he steps out into the lobby, seeing Kuroo right away.

Kuroo, who’s been running around working this entire time, is right where he always is - with his cell phone pressed to his ear, chatting away. He sees Oikawa and waves him over, turning to nudge Iwaizumi, who’s waiting behind him.

Iwaizumi definitely cleans up well. He’s picked out a pair of black slacks and a white button-up shirt for the event, and he has his hands deep in his pockets while he waits. He turns towards Kuroo, gaze shifting, and he catches Oikawa in his sights. A grin spreads across his features, and he’s shameless in watching Oikawa walk up.

His expression tells him that yes, Oikawa picked the right outfit.

Kuroo’s busy on his phone, and as soon as he’s close enough Iwaizumi sneaks his hand on Oikawa’s lower back, fingertips digging into his skin. He checks just to make sure that nobody is watching before sliding his hand lower, giving Oikawa’s ass a nice firm squeeze. Oikawa just about squeaks, tensing, then relaxing when Iwaizumi laughs quietly in his ear.

“You look good,” he whispers, in a voice that really shouldn’t be allowed outside the bedroom. Oikawa tries his best to shake it off.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” he responds, flicking his eyes down once more on Iwaizumi’s outfit. He looks smooth, sharp. Iwaizumi grins at him, and squeezes his ass once more before withdrawing his hand and returning it to his pocket.

“Ready? Ready. Let’s go.” Kuroo hangs up his phone, and they head out and into the car to take them to the interview.

The interview is… tense.

Oikawa’s done a lot of interpreting before. He’s been to fancy events where he has to wear a suit and tie, and he’s done more casual jobs where he can literally sit around in a pair of jeans.

What he’s doing is just a job, so he really doesn’t understand why Iwaizumi seems to be a little bit annoyed.

Oikawa’s on point throughout it all. He sits next to Iwaizumi and focuses on translating the questions as quickly and easily as he can. There are a few that trip him up, but he works through it pretty easily. It’s nothing that’s too difficult.

The interviewer sits a little bit too closely, and his tone is a little flirtatious after they finish the interview and are packing up, but Oikawa doesn’t think much of it.

After the interview is over, Kuroo points them back to a car, where they hop in and Oikawa can loosen his tie a little, so to speak.

“Dinner?” Kuroo suggests, looking from Oikawa to Iwaizumi. “I made some reservations for us.”

“Sounds good, Tetsu!” Oikawa grins and Iwaizumi nods in agreement, but he still doesn’t look too pleased. He’s sitting just a little too close to Oikawa, so it’s a good thing that Kuroo doesn’t seem to be paying attention to them.

“Everything alright?” Oikawa asks, voice low, to Iwaizumi. He looks at him through the corner of his eye, and gets a nod in return.

“Yeah, fine. Just… need a drink, I think.” Iwaizumi looks over to Oikawa, offering him a not-so-convincing smile as the car starts to drive, and Kuroo is on his phone again.

Well, whatever.

Oikawa could use a drink or two, anyway.

Okay, so maybe that becomes three drinks before they even leave the restaurant.

Oikawa’s not thinking too hard when they order various cocktails from the menu full of mixers and alcohols that none of them can pronounce properly. They decide to each order rounds for the table, all of their choices vastly different.

The first one’s sweet, with hints of orange and citrus that goes down far too easily. Oikawa’s pick, clearly, although neither Kuroo nor Iwaizumi disagree with the choice.

The second is another vodka mix - they’re playing it smart, at least - picked by Iwaizumi that’s exactly what Oikawa would imagine him liking. Strong, simple, and it packs a hell of a punch. Oikawa makes a face as he finishes his, earning a laugh and a squeeze on the arm from Iwaizumi.

They’re feeling warm and silly already by the time they get their meals, and Oikawa cleans his plate with ease. He’s hungrier than he would have thought - apparently, all of this is working up quite the appetite. He’s not sure if the sex is a factor or what, but he considers ordering more, and gratefully accepts when Iwaizumi shares some of his with him.

Kuroo picks the last drink, some shots that are so sour that Oikawa is pretty sure he’s going to still be feeling it in three days.

“What the fuck, Tetsu! What’s in this shit?” Oikawa grimaces, dropping his glass down on the table.

Kuroo laughs and finishes his in one go. “It’s my favourite for starting any night out. It’ll keep you awake all night.”

Oikawa snorts, shaking his head. “It’s gonna keep me awake for weeks, trying to get the taste out of my mouth.”

“Nah,” Iwaizumi shrugs, grinning. He twirls his glass in his hand, swirling around the last bit of his drink before tipping his glass back and drinking it up. “Just gotta dull your tastebuds a little bit more so that you can’t taste anything.” He flags the waiter over, seeming to want to order more drinks.

“Wait wait wait,” Oikawa interrupts him, putting a hand on his arm to lower his hand. He squeezes, and Iwaizumi lifts a brow in curiosity. “Just-just a sec. So - us. You, Tetsu and I. We’re out, right?”

Iwaizumi regards him curiously, but nods once, the alcohol loosening him up. “Yes, I think that much is obvious.”

“Mhm. Right.” Oikawa clears his throat, sounding very official. Or at least, trying to. “In Vegas, getting drunk. You know what we need?”

“What?” Kuroo asks, leaning a little on the table. His cell phone is actually away in his pocket for once. ‘What, pray tell, do we need, Tooru?”

“Well, I’m so glad you asked!” Oikawa stands up, a little wobbly already from the booze. “We need to go dancing!”

Iwaizumi snorts. “Dancing?”

Oikawa nods feverishly, reaching for Iwaizumi’s arm to pull him up, too. Iwaizumi lets him - Oikawa’s a little bit of a lightweight, and leaning on Iwaizumi makes things easier.

He certainly does not mind getting nice and close to his biceps, either.

“Come on Iwa-chan, there is no way that you move like that in the ring and can’t dance.” Oikawa is not taking no for an answer, his persistence evident. He tugs on Iwaizumi’s arm a little, waving his hand for Kuroo to get up, too. “I’m an amazing dancer, Iwa-chan. You’re going to be impressed.”

“Am I?” Iwaizumi retorts, grinning, “How impressed am I going to be?” He looks over to watch Kuroo slide out of the booth, waving to them about paying the bill or something and walking off.

Without Kuroo nearby, Oikawa can’t help but feel a little brave. “So impressed you’re gonna wanna dance with me, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa looks around before pulling Iwaizumi a little bit closer, fitting their bodies together tightly. Shivers rub up his spine when he feels Iwaizumi rub up against him. “I was thinking something a little bit like this…”

Iwaizumi’s hands are on Oikawa’s hips, drawing circles with his thumbs. “I like the sound of this, Tooru .”

As it turns out, Iwaizumi’s coordination in the ring translates to the dancing perfectly.

Oikawa doesn’t hesitate in pulling Iwaizumi to the dance floor as soon as they’re able to get a few shots in them at the club. He lets the alcohol loosen him up, and give him a little bit of courage that he probably wouldn’t otherwise have. Iwaizumi unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt, complaining that it’s hot , and maybe that’s what compels Oikawa to take him by the hand and lead him out.

Iwaizumi’s watching him intently. Oikawa can feel his gaze rake up and down his form, and although he might be annoyed by some random guy he doesn’t know doing this - there’s something exciting about it being Iwaizumi. He’s shameless, even in public, and it strips away Oikawa’s layers.

Iwaizumi doesn’t give a shit what anyone in this club thinks of him.

Oikawa kinda doesn’t want to give a shit, either.

Maybe for just a night, he can try.

He has no idea where Kuroo’s run off to, and honestly, he couldn’t care less. Right now, it’s just the two of them.

The DJ is spinning some dubstep beat that Oikawa really likes - he moves to it easily, head tilted back a little, hips moving with practiced ease. He laughs, spins, and lets himself get lost in it.

The music, this moment, this trip - all of it. He lets everything else go.

None of it matters right now.

Iwaizumi’s hands find his hips, and he pulls Oikawa in close, a little rougher than Oikawa’s expecting. He tilts his head to look at him properly, but Iwaizumi’s giving nothing away other than how much he’s enjoying this. There’s a smirk on his face that’s devilish, and up close, Oikawa’s overwhelmed by how good he smells.

The music keeps going, song after song, but Iwaizumi doesn’t give him much of a break. They stop a few times for drinks - and a single dance with Kuroo, who is trying to make somebody he wants to pick up jealous apparently - but Oikawa’s pulled back again and again.

Iwa-chan ,” he mumbles, moving when Iwaizumi encourages him to slide his arms around his neck during a calmer, slower song. He holds on, letting Iwaizumi set the pace and move them along with the music. Is there anything he isn’t fucking amazing at? “ Iwa-chan-

“I thought we agreed that you’d call me Hajime?” He whispers, voice low and husky in Oikawa’s ear. He could melt from that voice, easily.

Hajime, ” he tries, but words are hard. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the atmosphere, or the dancing - but honestly, it’s probably just Iwaizumi.

“You wanna get out of here?” Iwaizumi dips his head a little lower, kissing just below Oikawa’s ear.

His response is instantaneous. “Yeah.”

Chapter Text

Oikawa’s hyper aware of the fact that Iwaizumi has his hand tucked into his back pocket.

They’re walking out of the bar, leaning close - too close to pass it off as friends - and Oikawa can hardly focus on his steps with Iwaizumi’s body heat so close, his voice in his ear, low and deep and sultry-

“Tooru?” Iwaizumi says, grinning, the word spoken almost like a taunt. Playful. “You sure you’re okay to walk?” He squeezes Oikawa’s ass, sliding his hand up to hook it around his waist. He digs his fingers in a little and Oikawa shivers.


“Yeah,” he replies, not letting himself be outdone. He moves his arm up to slide it in the inside of Iwaizumi’s jacket, fingertips brushing against the hem of his shirt. “Just fine.”

He swears that he can hear Iwaizumi groan a little at the touch, before grinning. “Good - because I want to make a few stops before we go back to the hotel.”

Oikawa closes his eyes and nods, trying to shake away some of the haze clouding his brain. He’s feeling light and airy, probably a mixture from the alcohol and the atmosphere, glad that he can lean on Iwaizumi to try and keep himself righted. He could never do this at home, never be this open and close in public; it’s still making him feel a little nervous. Iwaizumi tightens his grip on Oikawa’s hip as they turn a corner, and Oikawa follows along. It’s clear that Iwaizumi’s been here before - Oikawa wants to ask him about it, wants to know so many things about him, but right now he focuses on moving one foot in front of the other to see where they’ll end up.

His stomach’s a mess but he’s trying to blame it all on the shots, and it’s going pretty well so far. He follows along as Iwaizumi leads them towards another set of buildings. Oikawa can’t see any signs identifying what the building is, but he hears loud music pouring out of the doors of the building every time they open, sliding open automatically as people are let in slowly from a queue. It’s not a track he knows, just your typical electronic dance mix that are crazy popular right now.

“You said you wanted to go dancing, and, fuck- I can’t believe I forgot about this place,” Iwaizumi says as he pulls him closer to the club, “The first time I came here, there was another fighter who was half Japanese here, too. His Japanese was rough, but he was pretty quiet anyway, and the night after I beat him in a fight, he took me here.” He snorts, “He just about started a bar fight with me, too - that’s a story for another day, though - and anyways, we ended up here, and it was the fucking best. You’ll love it.”

Oikawa’s about to question how they’re going to get in when Iwaizumi just walks up to the doors like he owns the place and one of the bouncers nods, letting them through and into the club.

Well. That was easy.

“You need some food first?” Iwaizumi asks, leading Oikawa up towards the bar, “or just another shot before I take you out on the dance floor?”

The club is packed . There are people from wall to wall, dancing and drinking, laughing, talking, yelling, eating - it’s a mess, the entire place smells like people and beer, a mix of sweat and body spray and perfume and just-

Oikawa loves it.

“Food,” he says, leaning in close, “then let me buy us some tequila shots.”

Iwaizumi grins, “by all means.”

It’s going to be a long night - and Oikawa is more than ready for it.

By the time Oikawa wakes up the next day, there’s sunlight already streaming in through the crack between the curtains in his - no, Iwaizumi’s hotel room. He blinks a couple of times, his brain still feeling groggy as he shakes off the last remnants of his dream.

“Tooru?” It’s Iwaizumi’s voice, but Oikawa’s too busy groaning and rolling over to hide his face from the sun to look up and see him. He laughs, and Oikawa can hear his footsteps coming closer to the bed. He hears things shuffling, some heavy items hitting the floor - is Iwaizumi getting undressed, maybe? - then a hand pushing against his shoulder, jostling him a bit. “Hey, get up. It’s already after noon.”

Oikawa groans in response, burying himself in further against the pillows.

“You hungover?” Iwaizumi asks, and the bed dips; he’s sitting next to Oikawa, still moving a bit. Oikawa peeks out from the pillow to see that he’s unwrapping one of his feet, his shirt already off. He looks sweaty; probably just finished training.

“No,” Oikawa responds before turning back into the pillow. “Jus’ tired n’ comfy.”

“Hah? I can’t understand you when you’re mumbling into that thing.” Iwaizumi nudges him again with the palm of his hand, and Oikawa flips over at last, sighing dramatically. He’s only wearing a pair of briefs, and when he moves the sheets slide down his body, exposing his upper half. Oikawa doesn’t miss the way Iwaizumi’s eyes trail down his bare skin. He only manages to tear his eyes away once they get as low as the waistband of Oikawa’s briefs, where his gaze moves and he stares pointedly at the floor.

Oikawa smirks a little, but Iwaizumi’s moving to unwrap his other foot, stretching out his legs, focusing on that instead.


That reminds him- “Hey, Iwaizumi?”


“Hajime,” Oikawa corrects, knowing what Iwaizumi is going to say, “did we have sex last night?”

Iwaizumi pauses what he’s doing. “What?”

Oikawa remembers Iwaizumi going down on him - he remembers that he came, but - “We didn’t, did we?”

Iwaizumi snorts a laugh. “You’d remember if we did,” he says, turning around and grinning. “No, we didn’t. You don’t remember me telling you why?”

“Nope.” Oikawa shrugs, sitting up at last, stretching out. Iwaizumi’s looking at him again, almost longingly.

“No sex forty-eight hours before a fight,” he explains, looking away. He stands up, taking a few steps towards the door.

“No sex?” Oikawa hides a laugh behind his hand, to which Iwaizumi turns around and looks at him with an amused expression. “I mean, I’ve heard of Olympic athletes not doing it the night before they perform, but two days?”

Iwaizumi nods. “Yup. A buddy of mine suggested it to me, when I was first getting started - supposed to basically get everything all revved up so that by the time I’m in the fight I’m in top gear.” He opens the door to the bedroom, and Oikawa lets out a contemplative hum.

“So what, you can’t even jerk off?”

“No!” Iwaizumi steps out the bedroom, turning to yell back at him, “I’m going to shower - get your ass up and ready, when I’m done we’re going out.”

Oikawa blinks a few times, Iwaizumi’s words registering. “Huh? What? Where are we going?” He calls after Iwaizumi, but he’s already shut the door to the bathroom and the water’s running loudly.

Alright then.

Oikawa drags himself out of bed, shaking off the last of his sleepy haze. He makes himself get up and move, grabbing his clothes from yesterday off the floor and throwing them on for now. He just needs to get back to his room so that he can change, although he’s not sure where they’re going, so he doesn’t know how to dress.

Once he’s got his things, Oikawa opens the door to the bathroom to call out to Iwaizumi, “Hey, what am I supposed to wear? Where are we going?”

The bathroom is filled with steam, but he can still see Iwaizumi’s figure through the frosted glass shower doors. “Dress casual,” is the only response that he gets, so Oikawa clicks his tongue and heads back to his room to do just that.

“Uh, Hajime?” Oikawa pauses, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He’s come to a complete halt, so Iwaizumi has to stop where he is, a few paces ahead of him, and turn to face him. “What are we doing here?”

Iwaizumi blinks like the answer is the most obvious thing in the world. He’s dressing casually as well, a sight Oikawa wishes he had more time to appreciate - a pair of black track pants and a light grey shirt. He pulls down the hood, saying,  “don’t you remember last night? You told me you wanted to do something spontaneous during your trip.”

“Spontaneous?” Oikawa bites his lip a little nervously. “Yeah, but this-”

“Just come in, have a look. See if they can do what you told me you wanted,” Iwaizumi says, taking a step back and closing some of the distance between them. He looks like he wants to reach out to Oikawa, coax him forward, encourage him; but he stands still. He nods towards the building instead and Oikawa looks up to read the sign once more.

Downtown Tattoos.

His stomach flips with excitement as they step in the entrance, the automatic doors opening and ushering them in with a fresh wave of cool air from the A/C. Oikawa takes a look around the shop as Iwaizumi walks off towards the desk.

The shop itself is decorated very minimally, but what draws Oikawa’s attention immediately are the dozens of works of art that are plastered all over the walls. It doesn’t look like there’s any rhyme or reason to where the images themselves are placed, but what captivates Oikawa is the variety of art he sees, and how he can feel the emotion and creativity bleeding off each page.

There’s all sorts of drawings on the walls - intense images of animals, lions and tigers painted with careful, colourful strokes; deep and longing fantastical images, quotes, shots of nature, people, everything-

“Tooru?” Iwaizumi’s voice draws Oikawa out of his own thoughts and he shakes his head, focusing over to where Iwaizumi is standing. He’s at what must be the receptionist desk, leaning against it. There’s a woman standing behind the desk, looking at Tooru; she’s gorgeous, but what’s most striking about her is the large tattoo wrapping around her neck. He can’t tell what it is - some kind of bird? - but the inking is intricate, each stroke so delicate and precise and wow. Oikawa clears his throat to meet her eye, and she looks at him with an almost amused expression.

“You’re Oikawa?” The woman says to him in perfect Japanese. Huh? “Welcome, Iwaizumi’s told me a fair bit about you.” Iwaizumi stares at her pointedly for this, but she ignores him. “I’m Shimizu, it’s a pleasure to have you here.”

“Yes, uh, I’m Oikawa,” he says, stepping closer, “You speak Japanese?”

Shimizu nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, giving Oikawa a glimpse of a tattoo on her wrist, which has some text in intricate cursive. “I take it that Hajime didn’t tell you where you were headed?” She sighs, looking over at Iwaizumi with an unimpressed expressed. “I’m actually from Tokyo as well. I moved here about five years ago when my good friend - our other tattoo artist, actually - told me he was opening up a shop here and wanted me to come with. As I’m sure you could imagine, it’s a whole lot easier opening up shop here.” She smiles, “I’ve known Hajime a long time - still haven’t managed to convince him to let one of us ink something on him, though.”

Iwaizumi laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t know if it’s for me - or at least, haven’t found the right thing I’d wanna put on me forever.”

“He tells me you have though, Oikawa?” Shimizu asks, leaning a little on the desk. “You want to get a tattoo today?”

“Would you be the one doing it?” Oikawa asks; she seems competent, and if Iwaizumi trusts her, that’s probably a good sign, but-

Shimizu shakes her head. “No, I’m just waiting for my next client, but Wakatoshi’s got his afternoon freed up for you.”

Oikawa blinks, confused. “Wakatoshi?”

The door next to the reception desk opens loudly, and loud footsteps signal someone’s entrance. Oikawa’s gaze falls on the man walking in - a man who is absolutely covered in tattoos. Oikawa’s too busy looking up his entire sleeve of tattoos up to the piercings on his face to really pay attention to his words. “You are Oikawa? I’m Ushijima Wakatoshi.” He nods politely at Iwaizumi, “It’s good to see you Iwaizumi, it’s been quite some time.”

Iwaizumi laughs, seemingly unfazed by Ushijima’s apparent lack of enthusiasm. “It has been - you’ve both got to come back to Tokyo more often,” he says, smirking. “I gotta say, I’d love to see my grandma’s reaction to how many tattoos you have now. Is there any skin that’s safe from being inked?”

Ushijima huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. “I promised my mother I wouldn’t tattoo my face.” He moves his hands to his hips, turning his gaze over to Oikawa. “It is nice to meet you, Oikawa. Hajime didn’t say much of you, but, well, that is to be expected. Come on back and tell me about what you were thinking.” He nods back towards the hallway, leading the way down there. Oikawa hesitates for a moment - still pretty taken aback by what’s happening - turning to look back at Iwaizumi once.

Iwaizumi nods at him and gives him an encouraging smile, so Oikawa presses forward, following Ushijima into one of the back rooms.

Oikawa takes a deep breath as he steps in, still feeling all kinds of nervous. His stomach’s a mess as he looks at the tattooing chair, the equipment all set up next to it, oh my god he’s not ready-

“Hey, Oikawa. You want to come in?” Ushijima puts a hand on his shoulder and Oikawa tries to remember all the reasons he wanted this tattoo. “We will just talk, I can do some sketches then see how you feel about them. Is that alright?” Ushijima moves to direct Oikawa to a small table set up on one side of the room, two chairs pulled out next to it.

Oikawa sits down, nodding. Okay, that’s right. Sketches. He can do that.

He doesn’t have to commit to anything right now, and that in itself is nice. He takes a deep breath, calms down his racing heart, and looks over at Ushijima

“How long have you been tattooing?” Oikawa asks, resting his arms on the table. He leans forward a bit to look at Ushijima’s sleeves of tattoos - Ushijima notices what he’s doing, and rests his arms down in Oikawa’s view.

“About seven years now,” Ushijima answers. He moves his chair back towards a desk, grabbing a sketchpad from the top and a few pencils. “What did you want to get done?” He asks, moving back to his seat, going straight to business.

So blunt. Oikawa makes a face, but Ushijima doesn’t see it.

“Well I was thinking.. Of getting the constellation of my zodiac,” Oikawa says, picking at his nails a bit. “I’m a cancer.”

Ushijima stares at him blankly. “What?”

“The.. star constellation… for cancer?” Oikawa blinks. “My zodiac sign?”

Ushijima keeps staring at him before shrugging. “You know that zodiac stuff is all made up, right?” He says, picking out a pencil and starting by sketching on the page, one star at a time. “I mean, I can do it - I just wanted to make sure you know.”

Oikawa stares at him hard, his face turning into a frown. “It is not! I, I just - so rude, Ushiwaka!”

Five hours later, Oikawa’s sitting in the hotel lobby waiting for Iwaizumi to meet him for dinner. He’s feeling upbeat, happy, light - the day today was so good, so nice. Even though the new tattoo covering his chest itches like hell, he’s so happy that he took the step to get it.

He sits himself down in one of the comfortable chairs there, pulling out his phone while he waits.

Five minutes pass, and then ten… Oikawa sends Iwaizumi a quick text message, to which he gets no response.

Twenty minutes tick by before Oikawa moves to the hotel bar.

Once Iwaizumi’s thirty minutes late Oikawa’s left feeling angry and lonely, staring at his phone, wondering why the hell he let himself do something so fucking stupid.

The pain in his chest only serves now as a bitter reminder as to how he let himself get too wrapped up in it all.

This is why he doesn’t do one-night stands.

Chapter Text

Five hours later, Oikawa’s sitting in the hotel lobby waiting for Iwaizumi to meet him for dinner. He’s feeling upbeat, happy, light - the day today was so good, so nice. Even though the new tattoo covering his chest itches like hell, he’s so happy that he took the step to get it.

He sits himself down in one of the comfortable chairs there, pulling out his phone while he waits.

Five minutes pass, and then ten… Oikawa sends Iwaizumi a quick text message, to which he gets no response.

Twenty minutes tick by before Oikawa moves to the hotel bar.

Once Iwaizumi’s thirty minutes late Oikawa’s left feeling angry and lonely, staring at his phone, wondering why the hell he let himself do something so fucking stupid.

The pain in his chest only serves now as a bitter reminder as to how he let himself get too wrapped up in it all.

This is why he doesn’t do one-night stands.

Oikawa’s phone vibrates, and he looks down at it bitterly, not even needing to look at the name to know who it’s from.

Can’t make it tonight.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he shoves his phone deep into one of his pockets, lifting up his drink and finishing off the last of its contents. The first drink goes down too easy - so the do the second, and the third. The warm feeling in his belly and the buzz in his ears helps push away the negative feelings, the loneliness-

So he chases it.

Standing up a little shakily, Oikawa reaches for his wallet to pay his tab. He fumbles a bit with his American money, but leaves enough with a tip for the bartender, who waves him off as he heads out.

He’s feeling warm and a little fuzzy, so he doesn’t think about the fact that he has no idea where he’s going. It’s Las Vegas , for fuck’s sake - he’s just going to walk until a place captures his interest. He doesn’t need to think about where he’s going, or why; he doesn’t have anywhere to be, and nobody’s expecting him until work tomorrow, and all of that can wait.

He finds himself out in front of a club, the sign written in some elaborate cursive that’s really hard to read. Some name’s nightclub - Roxanne’s Nightclub, maybe? It doesn’t really matter, once he’s waved in by the bouncers. The line isn’t too long, but Oikawa knows how this works. He knows he’s attractive enough to get let in, and is soon bathed in the soft light of the club, loud music in his ears and a heavy haze in the atmosphere.

It’s the perfect place to lose himself and Oikawa intends to do just that.

Everything else feels far away once he finds himself pressed up against the bar, waving down the bartender. He slurs a little when he orders a drink, the alcohol making his English sloppy, but the bartender makes it out just fine and slides a drink towards him. It’s one he picked off the featured drinks - he takes a sip, and it tastes sweet. Something artificial, maybe it’s supposed to be strawberry?

Whatever. Doesn’t matter when it goes down easily, and Oikawa sits down in one of the bar stools as he sips it back. He’s busy analyzing the dozens of bottles lined up behind the bar when he feels a tap on his shoulder, and turns to see a guy looking at him nervously. He smiles, in a way that tells Oikawa he probably downed a few beers and got a talking-to from his buddies before getting the courage to walk over here.

Oikawa looks him up and down, smiling at him, a little cautiously. He’s not so drunk that he’s going to do something completely stupid. “Hey.”

“You wanna dance?” The guy asks, extending a hand to Oikawa. He’s exactly Oikawa’s type, too - young, cute. A bright smile and an outfit that looks like he spent an entire month’s pay on it. He’s nothing at all like Iwaizumi.


Oikawa tips back the remainder of his drink, the alcohol burning his throat as he swallows it back. Fuck Iwaizumi. If he doesn’t want to be here, Oikawa isn’t going to sit around and wait for him.

“Buy me another drink first,” Oikawa says, nodding towards the seat next to him. “Then we can dance.”

He gets a smile in response, and the guy sits down next to him. “Sounds fair. I’m John, but I go by Jack,” he says, offering Oikawa his hand to shake. Oikawa takes it, shaking it carefully. Polite kid.

“I’m Oi…” he pauses, remembering that’s not how people generally introduce themselves here. He may still have an accent, but he doesn’t have to be so obviously a foreigner - this guy is definitely American, maybe even a local. “Tooru,” he offers.

Jack smiles warmly, clearly trying to impress him. The way that he focuses his attention on him, the way that he looks at him - it makes Oikawa feel important. He grins, waving over the bartender so that they can order some drinks.

“What are you drinking, Jack?” He asks as the bartender approaches.

“Beer’s good. Whatever’s on tap.” Jack seems markedly less interested in the alcohol, instead watching Oikawa as he talks, leaning over the bar and ordering them drinks.

Maybe he likes the attention.

That’s not so bad, is it?

Oikawa picks up his glass once the bartender serves up their orders, lifting up his glass. He waits until Jack does the same, clinking their glasses together. “Cheers?”


As it turns out, Jack is a local - and quite a bit younger than Oikawa, too. They share three drinks together before Oikawa stumbles out of his seat, feeling light and tipsy enough to want to get lost out on the dance floor.

He hasn’t done this in so long - it’s been years since he’s just let himself go - and the feeling is... Strange. On one hand it’s freeing and he feels ready to lose himself as he pushes his way through the crowd, Jack’s hand on his lower back - it’s crowded, Tooru tells himself, it’s just so he won’t lose me.

It’s fine.


The music is beyond loud; he can practically feel it reverberating through his body, right down to the tips of his toes. He loses himself in it, letting himself be lead by the sway of people around him, the hand on his back, the beat of the music, thrumming in his ears, guiding his steps.

It’s dark, it’s hot, it’s loud, and it drowns out all of Oikawa’s thoughts. There’s no more sadness, no loneliness, no anger; it’s all gone. Temporarily, maybe, but that doesn’t even cross his mind as the songs shift, and the drinks are poured. He accepts way too much, his thoughts all fuzzy and mixed up, but everything feels lighter like this. Easier.

Hours pass, but it feels like minutes; Oikawa finds himself pressed up against the bar again, another drink in his hand. A warm hand in his back pocket, a low voice in his ear, laughing, whispering-

“You wanna come back to my place?”

Oikawa’s stomach flips, and he shifts his weight from one foot to another, unsteadily. Well… why not? He nods his head, earning him a wide grin, the arm around his waist tugging him in closer. He’s not subtle, not in the slightest, but that’s okay because Oikawa likes a guy who is a bit more forward, just like-

Oikawa stumbles when he’s pulled upright, the hand on his back moving to grip his arm and pull him forward. His body lurches with the effort, his skin feeling hot and suddenly so grubby, so bad , no, no, wait-

His feet move of their own accord and he winds through the crowd, nearby losing his balance every time he’s bumped into, hard. He shakes his head, the air feeling heavy and muggy. He needs fresh air, has to breathe-

He pulls away a little, shaking his head, once they get to the door. He steps in front of Jack and pushes it open, breathing in a huge breath of fresh air. Or, well, fresh as it gets with groups of people smoking outside, but it’s cool and helps to clear up a bit of the fog from his brain. He shakes his head, leaning back against the building, resting a hand on his knee as he catches his breath.

“You okay?”

Oikawa blinks, looking up. It all comes crashing down what he’s doing, how drunk he is, fuck-

Jack tilts his head, looking confused, reaching out to touch Oikawa’s shoulder, “Hey, Tooru-”

“Stop!” Oikawa slaps back his hand, all these emotions he’d tried so hard to bury bubbling up to the surface. Anger, frustration, bitterness, pain, pain-

“Stop-” Oikawa gasps in another breath, leaning heavily against the wall behind him, “Just- just don’t fucking touch me,” he says, but it comes out as more of a whimper. He closes his eyes and tries to bite back the hot tears that he can already feel building up.


He’s pathetic.

It’s no wonder that Iwaizumi doesn’t want him anymore. Just like always, just like with everyone - he lets himself get too close, get too attached, only to have it all blow up in his face again when he remembers that he’s broken.

That must be why nobody wants him.

He wraps an arm around himself, sliding down to the ground. Jack seems confused, talking to him, crouching down in front of him. Oikawa can’t make out the words that he’s saying - nothing through the blurry tears in his eyes and the sobs he’s desperately trying to swallow in his throat.

Christ, he’s a fucking disaster.

Oikawa inhales deeply, and finally stops trying to hold it all back.

He just cries.

He buries his face against his arm, letting his sobs out. It feels weird. Not good, but not bad - just like something he has to do. His body shakes as the cool night air chills him, but he doesn’t care. He can hardly feel it anyway, not until some time later, when he manages to finally stop the tears. He can’t do this, not here, not now.

He manages to compose himself enough to get rid of Jack. “I”m fine- okay?” He blinks long and slow, finding it harder and harder to keep speaking in English. This fucking language. “I’m gonna call my friend. You… you can go.” He looks up at Jack, who is still staring down at him, looking worried for him.

It’s like rubbing salt in the wound.

“Are you sure?” Jack says, looking around, unsure. “I can wait-”

“No, really.” Oikawa sighs. “I’m fine. Sorry for yelling at you.” It’s not this kid’s fault that he’s all fucked up, and he didn’t deserve to be treated like that. Jack nods, and with a short goodbye, he’s gone.

Oikawa wants nothing more than to go back to his hotel and bury himself under his blankets. Maybe he can pretend that none of this ever happened.

But first… he’s gotta sober up.

Oikawa drops his head between his knees, taking a few deep breaths. He thinks about going into the bar and asking the bartender for some water, but he’s pretty sure that if he tries to get up right now he’s either gonna pass out or puke. Everything is still so fuzzy.

He really doesn’t want to have to, but he knows that he has to call Kuroo. He might be an idiot, but he’s not going to risk ending up in some corner of Las Vegas that he really, really doesn’t want to be in. He digs his hand into his pocket, fishing out his phone, and struggles to type in his passcode. He finally manages to get up his contacts, clicking on Kuroo’s name and the stupid selfie he took on Oikawa’s phone with a cat ears filter. He presses the phone to his ear, hoping that he answers. He doesn’t bother to check the time and realizes he has no idea how late it is. Don’t be asleep, don’t be asleep, don’t be asleep-

“Tooru?” A sleepy Kuroo answers the phone, and Oikawa’s heart lurches. He’s thrown back instantly to the times he sat on Kuroo’s couch and poured his heart out over other stupid boys that didn’t work out-

“I’m really drunk,” Oikawa mumbles, finally able to relax his brain and his mouth, speaking in Japanese again. Feels good.

“Oh?” Kuroo hums. “Where are you?”

“Some club…” Oikawa sighs, dropping his head in his hands. “Feel dizzy… kinda sick…”

Kuroo groans on the other line, and Oikawa feels bad. He’s putting him in a bad position now, too - he just keeps fucking up-

“You’re alone? Tooru, don’t be a fucking idiot and get wasted by yourself in some place you don’t even know. Just stay where you are, you still have your location on Snapchat, yeah? Sit tight. Okay?” There’s some shuffling on the other end, and it takes Oikawa all he has to swallow back more tears. No more crying - that’s not going to help anyone.

Even though he really, really wants to.

“Okay,” Tooru mumbles weakly, rubbing at his temples. “‘m really sorry, Tetsu.”

“Just take a breath, it’s okay.” Kuroo sighs, and after a few more confirmations that Oikawa is really alright, he hangs up the phone to come and pick him up.

Oikawa closes his eyes, leaning back against the building, feeling like a righteous fuck up.

He probably deserves all this, doesn’t he?

Chapter Text

This is his fault, isn’t it?

He did this to himself.

Oikawa hugs his knees close to his body, burying his face against his legs.

How many times has it been, now? How does he keep on ending up here? He’s not a teenager anymore. He’s not even twenty anymore. Wasn’t this supposed to pass? The phase where he lets his guard down and makes stupid choices? Lets himself feel close to people that he knows he can’t have? The phase where he acts like a fucking idiot, then tries to drown it all away in alcohol. Way too much vodka and tequila-

Someone walks by and jostles him so he reaches out to catch himself before he falls over. His stomach lurches and flips. Fuck, he’s gonna be sick-

He stills himself, closing his eyes. He takes in a slow, calm breath, slowly feeling his body settle back down to where he was before.

No, no. Okay. It’s fine. He’s good.

Oikawa exhales, pressing his forehead back down against his knees.

He’s cold. He’s cold, and alone, in desperate need of a good cry, preferably while curling up on Kuroo’s couch and probably pouring his heart out now that he’s drunk enough to not care anymore if he knows how idiotic he’s been acting-

“Tooru. Get up, it’s time to go.” A voice pulls Oikawa from of his more self-destructive thoughts, but it has him jerking his head up quickly.

What? It’s not Kuroo, no-

Tooru,” Iwaizumi says, reaching out and grabbing his arm. He closes his fingers around Tooru’s bicep roughly and pulls. “Let’s go back. Now.”

Iwaizumi lifts and Oikawa struggles to his feet, leaning back against the building behind him. “Iwa- Iwa-” Oikawa mumbles, trying to find his voice. How did he- why is he here- “Wait… what?”

He gets a sigh in response as Iwaizumi pulls him forward, just on the side of too hard. What the fuck? He doesn’t get to act like this. Oikawa pushes him away quickly, wanting his hands off, stumbling backward into the wall.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, although it comes out all slurred and slow. He blinks heavily, closing one hand into a fist, trying to steady himself. Needing to. There’s three Iwaizumi’s here and Oikawa’s pretty sure that’s not normal… not to mention Iwaizumi isn’t even supposed to be here, he called Kuroo-

“Yeah, well, Tetsu sent me. He called me and told me you were here, and that you were wasted at that.” Iwaizumi blurrily pinches the bridge of his nose, looking right pissed. Oikawa winces. “Are you fucking stupid? What the fuck were you thinking?!”

Oikawa’s stunned into silence, so Iwaizumi takes a hold of his arm again. Oikawa doesn’t want to, but it’s easier to move when he leans against Iwaizumi.

Come on, Tooru. Get it together.

How did he wind up such a fucking mess?

He stumbles after Iwaizumi, who keeps on talking. “Really, Tooru, what the fuck? Do you realize how easily this could have all gone horribly wrong?”

Oikawa bitterly blinks back tears. “So what…” he mumbles, barely audible, “like you care? I’m just someone to fuck... and ditch...”

Iwaizumi grumbles, winding his arm around Oikawa’s waist, hoisting Oikawa’s weight over his shoulder by an arm. Oikawa has no idea if Iwaizumi heard him - or understood him - but he stops the lecturing.

“Come on, we’re going back,” Iwaizumi says, sighing, “Gonna put you to bed.”

Oikawa kind of hates being so close to Iwaizumi right now. He feels heavy, feels gross - Iwaizumi shakes his head and tells him it’s fine, he doesn’t care, but the anxiety is building up in him nonetheless. His stomach is twisting all around and he’s sure it’s not just from the alcohol.

The walk back to their hotel feels like it takes an hour even though Oikawa knows it can’t be more than ten minutes. He stumbles repeatedly and almost trips three times - but Iwaizumi is there and catches him every time in between his rants.

He’s annoyed, clearly. Oikawa’s really messed things up, hasn’t he?

If he didn’t hate him before, he sure does now.

Kuroo must be pissed off, too - why else would he send Iwaizumi?

The lights in the hotel are far too bright and Oikawa struggles to focus when Iwaizumi all but drags him in. His feet are pretty much just getting in the way now, but Iwaizumi’s carrying most of his weight anyway so Oikawa can’t fall. Oikawa holds on to him groggily, his grip loose.

They make it up to Oikawa’s room, where Iwaizumi has to dig through Oikawa’s pockets until he finds his wallet and pulls out the room keycard. Oikawa can hardly even feel embarrassed, way too busy trying to calm the raging thoughts running circles in his head.

He fucked up, he fucked up, he fucked up so hard , he deserves whatever he’s about to get-

“Hey,” Iwaizumi says, his arms on Oikawa’s shoulders, straightening him out. He looks concerned - who the fuck gave him the right to feel that?

He is the one who built Oikawa up, only to smash him back into tiny pieces.

Why is Oikawa letting him treat him like shit? Letting him have such control over his feelings?

Oikawa shoves Iwaizumi’s hands off him roughly, stumbling back and catching himself on the door frame.

“I’m fine,” he insists, shakily making his way to his bed. Oikawa’s room is much smaller than Iwaizumi’s, so it’s easy enough to shimmy over there, holding on to the wall for support.

“Clearly you’re not,” Iwaizumi sighs, reaching for Oikawa again. “Come on, just let me-”

“I said I’m fine! ” Oikawa yells and slaps away Iwaizumi’s hand, stepping away. He loses his footing and trips, but this time Iwaizumi isn’t there to catch him. He curses as he hits the floor, his leg twisting up and wrenching his knee, which is already weak from an old injury.

This is just fucking perfect.

“Hey, are you-”

“What the fuck do you want from me?!” Oikawa’s voice is louder than he’d like, and more desperate, but he can’t tone it down. Fuck, fuck- “This isn’t fair,” he whispers, his vision blurring, “I thought I could do this, but you- you act like you want me, and then… and then you just toss me aside... “ He chokes on a sob, “What’s wrong with me?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t respond, but Oikawa wouldn’t hear him even if he tried. He winces when he adjusts his knee before dropping his face into his hands, curling up as best as he can and letting himself cry.

Everything hurts.

His eyes burn from the tears, his knee is throbbing and his stomach’s a mess. More words come out, all mixed-up and jumbled, through his blubbering tears, pouring out without his consent.

He thought this was different. He thought that finally, finally, maybe he might be on the right track. Finally thought that after a dozen half-baked ‘first dates’ with incompatible partners and being too scared and nervous to put himself out there that maybe, maybe Iwaizumi liked him for who he is.

Because all those other times, the guys he went out with had a reason for ditching him.

He’s too high maintenance, too needy, too successful - fuck, one guy even told Oikawa that he’s just too pretty - but Iwaizumi never said any of those things. Oikawa let himself get his hopes up.  Yeah, it was casual, and yeah, Iwaizumi never promised anything more, but still, he never had a bad thing to say - he still chose Oikawa when he didn’t have to, let him get close, sleep in the same bed, touch him, kiss him-

Oikawa’s stomach lurches at the thought and he scrambles to his feet, crying out in pain when he twists his knee trying to get up. Tears from the pain mix up with his tears of sadness and frustration and it’s all a mess, he’s a mess - he tries to brush them away so that he can see but it’s all too much, he can hardly move-

He just barely makes it to the bathroom thanks to Iwaizumi, who lifts him up and drops him on the floor. He pukes up everything in his stomach - which isn’t much, admittedly, not having eaten dinner - his entire body shaking with effort as he tries to keep himself upright. He’s still crying, - fuck, how pathetic - dropping his weight down on the floor, leaning back against Iwaizumi once he’s sure he has nothing else left to give. He feels better, like this - Iwaizumi is warm, sturdy and… comforting. Oikawa wants to curl up against him. He smells nice, feels nice... God, how fucked up can this get? Underneath it all, Oikawa still likes him. He still fucking likes him-

The tears haven’t stopped, but they’ve slowed down enough that he can wipe them away with the sleeve of his shirt. He hiccups, allowing Iwaizumi to move his arms up so that he can slide off his shirt.

“What’s so unlovable about me?” Oikawa whispers, broken. Defeated.

If Iwaizumi answers, Oikawa doesn’t hear it; the last thing he remembers is Iwaizumi’s hands brushing his hair out of his face before he blacks out.

Chapter Text

Oikawa wakes up the next morning feeling groggy and heavy.

What the hell happened last night?

He groans, sitting up in bed, feeling the bed sheets slip off his bare shoulders. He looks down - okay, he’s wearing a pair of sweatpants, but no shirt. What, where did it-

Oh, right. He vaguely remembers Iwaizumi helping him peel it off after getting sick some time in the middle of the night.

Wait, Iwaizumi-

Oikawa turns around quickly, looking for any traces of Iwaizumi left in his room, but the sudden movement makes his stomach flip and he halts, catching himself with a hand on the headboard of his bed. Fuck, fuck, his stomach’s still a mess and he really doesn’t want to throw up again.

He closes his eyes, taking in a slow, deep breath, staying completely still until the wave of sickness passes over him. At least it seems like he’s alone, and Iwaizumi isn’t still here.

Oikawa sighs, his memories from last night coming back to him in a haze.

He got drunk.

Way too drunk.

That would explain how nauseous he feels, and the pounding headache he can already feel starting.

He flashes back, remembering Iwaizumi picking him up and bringing him to bed. He’d squirmed and resisted - he still felt gross, and having Iwaizumi so close to him made him feel far too vulnerable. Iwaizumi had brought him to bed, gotten him changed into some clean clothes (with a bit of a struggle), and made him drink an entire glass of water.

Ah, water, water would be great… where’s that glass?

Wait, where is he? Is he still in Iwaizumi’s room? Wait, what? Fuck-

Oikawa remembers stumbling into the hotel, half hanging off of Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi’s asking him what his room number is, where his keycard is, and Oikawa’s just rambling. “You and me… and just… I mean… I know, it’s Vegas… whatever happens stays here or whatever… but damn… not even here… not even here you want to be with me… fuck this...” Then Iwaizumi’s digging in his pockets, mumbling something about his wallet, and Oikawa’s just limp in his arms, but he manages to pull out his wallet.

Ah. So he’s back in his room. That would explain why the bed’s not as big and the sheets aren’t as soft. He’d gotten used to Iwaizumi’s big, nice room. His own feels… small, in comparison.

It doesn’t help that he feels so much more alone here.

Oikawa looks around his room and sees a full glass of water on the night stand. He reaches over to grab it and takes a nice, long drink. It’s cool and refreshing; the first few sips like the nectar of the gods. He feels a little bit better after downing the entire glass, his head throbbing just a little bit less. He tries to focus a bit more, putting the glass back and lying back down in bed.

He breathes in, and instantly recognizes that scent lingering on his pillow. Iwaizumi was here, but he slept on the couch, didn’t he? He wasn’t in Oikawa’s bed-

It comes back to him quickly, all mixed up and fuzzy. Oikawa remembers waking up in the middle of the night, stumbling out of bed, knowing that he was about ten seconds away from puking all over himself. He was struggling until Iwaizumi got up from the couch and helped him to the bathroom. He waited until Oikawa was finished and helped him back to bed, carrying half of Oikawa’s weight and making sure he didn’t fall by holding him up. Iwaizumi helped pull off the shirt he’d been wearing - at least he wasn’t sick all over himself - before helping him into bed, pulling back the covers and letting him slide in.

But before he could pull away, go back to the couch, Oikawa had grabbed onto his shoulders and pulled him down, his voice quiet and his eyes teary-

Oikawa blanches at the memory. Oh fuck, he did  he really-

He did.

Oikawa had pulled Iwaizumi down, still shaky, and whispered, “lie down with me… please?”


Of course Iwaizumi did as he asked. Of course he’d gotten into bed with Oikawa. Of course he’d pulled him close, warm and comforting, hugging him until Oikawa could fall back asleep, cuddled in close and feeling better.

He really made a fucking fool of himself, didn’t he?

Oikawa sighs, burying his face in his hands as he tries to push the memory away.

How is he going to face Iwaizumi after this?

He really acted like an idiot. He’s embarrassed, to say the least; he had poured his heart out to Iwaizumi. He’d told him things from his past, things about his past relationships, rambled about how sad and lonely he was, how hurt he was by Iwaizumi’s actions, the fact that he likes him, that he’s invested -

Christ, he doesn’t even have a clue as to what Iwaizumi’s thinking about the entire thing. Oikawa hardly remembers anything other than Iwaizumi’s soft reassurances that he was going to be okay, to relax and rest and sleep it off.

He turns to dip his feet off the bed, his stomach sloshing around uneasily with every movement. He’s about to get up before he notices a small ripped piece of paper close to where he’d found his glass of water with a bottle of painkillers on top. He reaches over, pulling it up and reading the note scrawled on it with a fading pen.


Take some painkillers and have some more water once you get up. Had to leave early for training for the fight tonight, but call me when you can to check in.

Oikawa doesn’t need to look for a signature to know that it’s from Iwaizumi. He smiles, a little - the note iS nice, although it’s also… confusing.

Does he care?

Does he not care?

It’s making Oikawa’s headache worse trying to figure it out, so he pushes that thought as far back in his brain as he can. He reaches for the painkillers, popping the lid and dropping a few in his palm. He needs more water, though, so he grabs the glass before standing to get a refill-

As soon as he puts weight on his right leg he just about doubles over, a burning pain radiating from his knee.

He’d completely forgotten about wrenching it the night before.

Well this is just fan-fucking-tastic.

He winces, limping to the bathroom, filling up his glass and with water from the sink so that he can swallow down a few painkillers. At least the pain in his knee is distracting him from the nausea, so he’s able to finish the water.

What he needs now is a good, long shower.
He desperately needs to scrub away all of… this.

Oikawa turns the shower on hot, letting steam fill up the bathroom. He strips off the remainder of his clothes and tosses them on the floor, running a face cloth under cold water in the sink to try and bring down some of the swelling around his eyes that he’s sure is there. He doesn’t let himself look at his reflection, knowing that he probably looks like he’s seen the underside of a bus and he’s hoping he can do away with some of that before he has to face it.

At least he feels clean, a half an hour later, after scrubbing every inch of his body carefully with his lemon-scented soap. His headache’s lessened a bit now that the painkillers have kicked in, which is a small mercy. His hangover sure isn’t gone, but at least he doesn’t look quite as bad as he feels.

He still has to work today, after all.

Oikawa takes his time drying himself off, and picking out some clothes to wear. He brushes out his hair and gets himself another glass of water before sitting down on his bed, finally digging through his jeans from last night for his cell phone. He’s a bit afraid to unlock it, but he knows that if he waits any longer it’s only going to get worse.

He has a dozen texts waiting for him, and a handful of missed calls. Most notably, he notices that Kuroo’s been trying to get a hold of him.

He clicks on their text conversation, reading over the last few texts Kuroo sent him.

Tooru, let me know you made it back okay!



Hey, are you okay? How is it going?

I texted Hajime. Rest up and we’ll talk tomorrow.

Morning! How are you feeling?

Oikawa skims over a couple more, not rushing to ease Kuroo’s worry with a reply. He can’t help but feel betrayed by Kuroo. Why the hell did he send Iwaizumi instead of coming to get him himself? What game was he trying to play?

What was he thinking ?

Oikawa’s not sure what he wants to say to him, yet, so he decides to start by calling Iwaizumi.

...Which turns out, is a lot harder than he’d expected it to be.

He’s nervous. So, so nervous. What if Iwaizumi’s still mad? What if he’s annoyed? What if he only wants Oikawa to call so that he can tell him that it’s done, they’re done, he doesn’t want anything to do with him after they finish work today-

Oikawa’s thoughts are halted when his phone starts to ring; it surprises him so much that he just about throws the phone across the room. He fumbles with it, answering it accidentally when his thumb brushes across the screen.

“Hello?” It’s Iwaizumi’s voice on the other end. Fuck, fuck- “Tooru?”

He manages to bring the phone up to his ear. “Hajime… uh, hi.”

Iwaizumi lets out a small breath on the other line. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

Like shit is the truth, but what he says instead is “I’m okay.”

“Good,” Iwaizumi says. “Look, uh, I-”

“-I’m really sorry about last night,” Oikawa blurts out. He sighs, shaking his head. “I had way too much to drink… I wasn’t thinking…”

“I get it,” Iwaizumi says on the other line. Oikawa stays quiet, and listens. “I shouldn’t have… what I did… that wasn’t cool either.” He sighs, “look, I need to go eat and then get ready for the fight. But… could we talk later? Tonight, after?”

Oikawa bites his lip, nervous energy fluttering around inside of him. “Yeah,” he says. “I… I’d like that.”

“Great,” Iwaizumi answers. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you soon.”

“Sure thing,” Oikawa says. “Bye.” He lowers his phone, ending the call, feeling a little relieved knowing that Iwazumi isn’t mad.

Now he just needs to deal with Kuroo.


Oikawa considers making Kuroo sweat it out, not talking to him at all until the pre-fight interviews this evening, but he changes his mind when Kuroo texts him a few more times to ask Oikawa to join him for lunch.

He’s gotta eat, after all, even if all he’s going to be able to stomach is something bland; if it’s on Kuroo’s dime then he can order whatever he wants and not foot the bill. Besides, the mature part of his brain knows that he and Kuroo are going to need to have a nice, long talk.

That being said, the petty, annoyed part of Oikawa is fighting very, very hard to keep them from having a talk.

Oikawa shows up at the restaurant Kuroo picked out for them fifteen minutes late. He decided to only throw on some casual clothes, some sweatpants and a sweater, since he still has a few hours before he has to be ready for the fight. He takes his time to brush out his hair and press a cold cloth on his face for a while to try to reduce the swelling in his eyes. He ends up not looking too bad by the time he goes out - his face is still a little red, but you can’t tell he spent half the night crying his eyes out anymore, so he calls it a win.

Kuroo is waiting for him already when he shows up, but Oikawa can hardly give him a glance as he sits down across the table from him.

“Tooru! Hey, how ya feelin’?” Kuroo asks, a bit of a joking smirk on his face.

Oikawa doesn’t answer, looking down at the menu that’s already waiting for him on the table. He thumbs through a few of the sections, making himself look busy while he tries to look for something the most expensive thing on the menu.

Kuroo’s paying, after all.

The lobster’s looking appealing.

Kuroo goes a bit quiet, before he says, “I ordered some water to start.”

Oikawa looks up, then down at the glass of icewater. He reaches for it, taking a couple of sips, knowing that he’s probably still dehydrated from last night. Kuroo opens his mouth to keep talking, but the waiter comes by to take their order. By the time he leaves, it seems like Kuroo is taking the hint and realizes just how pissed off Oikawa is.


Oikawa sips on his water, determinedly not looking at Kuroo. It’s quiet, for a moment, before Kuroo clears his throat, taking a deep breath and putting his hands on the table.

“Tooru, look. You seemed to be upset about Hajime... I… I didn’t know, I thought that he needed to make up for his raincheck… I didn’t think-”

“-No,” Oikawa interrupts, looking up bitterly. “You didn’t think. I was pissed about Hajime, so that’s why he was the last person I wanted to see!”

Kuroo looks at him with wide eyes, surprised. “Oh… Tooru… I didn’t know…”

Oikawa lets out a sigh, looking back down at his glass of water.

His feelings are a huge mess. He’s angry, pissed at Kuroo, pissed at himself; he’s embarrassed at how drunk he got last night, at how stupid he must have looked in front of Iwaizumi… But he’s still upset, still feeling the residual, bitter sting of loneliness.

He’s not sure which is worse.

He looks back up at Kuroo who is watching him, ready to listen.

Oikawa takes a breath. They’ve got a lot to talk about, and although he wants to start, he can’t help but still feel annoyance pricking at him for what Kuroo did.

“What happened last night?” Kuroo asks, still watching Oikawa, who really, really doesn’t want to think more about how badly he fucked up.

“What do you think happened?” He scoffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. His headache’s lessened, but it’s still there, a reminder from last night. “I was fucking wasted. I cried my eyes out and rambled on for ages to Iwaizumi. I was pissed about what happened, and started thinking of the past, and all the times this has happened before…” He trails off, looking over at Kuroo.

“Tooru…” Kuroo looks down at his hands nervously. “Man, I was just trying to help-”

“-Yeah well nice try,” Oikawa snaps, cutting him off again, “How about you stay out of my business instead?”

Kuroo’s expression softens, and he looks defeated. “I’m sorry… I really am… What can I do now? How can I help?”

Oikawa looks at him carefully, his anger deflating a bit. This isn’t Kuroo’s fault… He doesn’t want to take all of this out on him. Maybe, instead, it’s time to let him in.

“I fucked up, Tetsu,” Oikawa sighs, closing his eyes. “I feel bad… I really lost it last night… and Hajime was there for the whole thing. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore…”

There’s a beat of silence before Kuroo reaches over the table, touching his arm reassuringly. “Tooru, it’s okay… We’ve all been there. I’m sure even Hajime has been there before…” Kuroo offers him a small smile. “So you two… you’ve been seeing each other?”

“Kind of…” Oikawa shrugs, “Hajime and I were just… It was just supposed to be casual. I’m the one who let myself get too invested…”

Kuroo’s eyes widen and his grip on Oikawa’s shoulder tightens. Oikawa looks up to meet his eye and takes a deep breath. “Let me start from the beginning…”

Chapter Text

Oikawa can’t deny how much better he feels after talking to Kuroo.

It’s not like Kuroo has any answers for him, of course, but just talking - saying out loud what happened, and what he’s feeling - it helps. Gets it off his chest a little bit so that he’s not being crushed so heavily by the weight of this.

Kuroo doesn’t even seem to mind that Oikawa hardly touches his meal either, only nibbling away at the bread brought to the table despite ordering the most expensive lobster on the menu.

Well, serves him right.

“Are you gonna be okay for the fight tonight?” Kuroo asks as he finishes up his lunch, pushing his plate to the center of the table.

Is he going to be okay?

“Yeah,” Oikawa nods. “I’ll be fine.”

Well. Fake it ‘till you make it, right?

Maybe that should be his personal motto.

Kuroo gives him a hard look, eyeing him up like he’s trying to figure out if he’s telling the truth or not. Oikawa doesn’t look away, and that must appease Kuroo as he drops his gaze with a sigh.

“Fine, but take another painkiller before the interviews, okay? This lights are gonna make it worse.” He clicks his tongue, “and drink your water.”

Oikawa laughs, picking up his glass and finishing off the last of its contents. “Okay. Anything else?”

“Yeah.” Kuroo looks back up at him seriously. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, alright? Shit happens. You’re not the only one in the wrong here.”

Oikawa watches him, nodding slowly. “Yeah,” he says, and what Kuroo is saying makes sense, but he’s still not sure if he believes it.

He just has to hope that he didn’t sabotage his chances with Iwaizumi before they even get to take their shot.

The rest of the afternoon flies by for Oikawa.

After his lunch with Kuroo, he takes some much-needed time to himself to get rid of some of the stress from last night. He turns off his phone, treats himself to a nice hot latte and some shopping. He really likes what he ends up buying for himself, too - it’s therapeutic to just take a few hours to clear his thoughts and not think about anything other than himself.

It makes things more clear, too. How he feels about Iwaizumi. How he really does want to take a shot at this - because Iwaizumi makes him feel so many things that he hasn’t felt in years.

The only question is: how does Iwaizumi feel?

Oikawa tries not to linger on it, but the question is pressing at his mind as the afternoon gets on. It’s quiet enough while he’s out, but gets louder and louder until he can practically feel it ringing in his ears by the time he’s getting ready for the fight tonight.

He buttons up his shirt while it screams in his ears, impervious to his attempts to ignore it.

He just needs to get through this evening. Just make it through the interviews, and then the fight, then the post-fight-interviews-

A sharp pain hits him just behind his eyes and he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

This headache refuses to leave him be.

Oikawa sighs as he fishes out another painkiller from his bottle, downing it with a big glass of water, hoping to kill the last bit of his hangover headache. His stomach’s calmed down now at least so he doesn’t have to worry about having to bolt from the interview to throw up.

His phone buzzes while he’s smoothing out his shirt, reminding him that he needs to get moving.

Kuroo: hey, u ready to go?

Oikawa can’t put this off any longer.

I’ll be right down, he types, feeling his stomach flip and twist with nervous energy.

Okay, well, maybe he’s not as fine as he thought, but he has to do this.

He puts on his jacket and his professional smile as he leaves his hotel room.

He has a job to do, and no matter how confused and unsure and worried he feels, he’s going to make damn sure that he does the best job that he possibly can.

He takes some slow and deep breaths as he heads down to the lobby, then out of the hotel. Kuroo and Iwaizumi are both already there but there’s a car waiting out front to drive Oikawa so all he has to do is hop in the back and wait.

Oikawa leans his head on the window of the backseat as they drive, eyes catching on all the lights on the strip as they go. Everything here’s so bright, so loud, so full of life, there’s so much to do and experience-

But he can’t focus on any of it. Not when his attention is always captured by the same person.

He sighs, pushing those thoughts away for now. If he tries really, really hard to lock them away, he can keep his mind clear for a couple of hours. He just needs to push them to the furthest part of his brain and by the time they start to seep back in, he’ll be done for the night.

The car jerks to a halt and that pulls him from his thoughts, so he thanks the driver and steps out of the vehicle.

He can already see how packed it is. Fans are screaming outside the arena, arguing about tickets, about who’s going to win - people are waiting in line to get in and the atmosphere is so loud and raging and energetic that it helps force Oikawa into the right state of mind.

He straightens out his jacket and heads into the arena.

Oikawa’s not sure that he’s ever going to get used to being in the arena.

The energy he feels as soon as he enters the building is unlike anything he’s ever experienced in his life . He couldn’t describe it - it’s completely overwhelming.

It ensnares him from the moment he sets foot in the building, wrenching him from his own thoughts and into this heated and heavy atmosphere.

It’s even more intense than last time. He feels he could drown in it.

There are people everywhere; fans clamouring to get a look at their favourites, reporters trying to get the best shot and maybe a few words from one of the fighters. Oikawa still has his badge from Kuroo, so he flashes it at the back access and is ushered in by security. He’s swept along by the crowd of people moving down the hallway, talking and arguing and yelling so quickly that it’s hard for him to focus on what they’re saying.

“Tooru!” Kuroo’s loud voice gets his attention in an almost commanding way, and Oikawa looks over to where it came from to see Kuroo waving him over. Oikawa walks over and is pulled into a room by Kuroo that Oikawa recognizes must be like a waiting room for the fighters, as Iwaizumi’s inside talking to an official as he’s weighed in.

“It’s pretty crazy out there, isn’t it?” Kuroo says with a grin. Of course he’s thrilled - this is amazing publicity for them, regardless of the outcome of Iwaizumi’s fight.

“Yeah,” Oikawa answers, watching curiously as Iwaizumi’s weighed on the scale. The official carefully moves the scale until it stops on Iwaizumi’s current weight and he seems satisfied, jotting down something on a clipboard before leaving the room. “It’s… it’s something else.”

Kuroo slaps Oikawa on the shoulder and laughs. “In case you’re wondering, no. You don’t ever get used to it.”

“That obvious?” Oikawa laughs, wondering if his heart is going to be beating this fast all night.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says, stepping off the scale and turning to face them. “It’s only your second fight, though, and this one’s sure bigger than the last.”

Oikawa nods, his attention drawn elsewhere now.  Damn. He’s pretty sure that he’ll never get used to the sight of him shirtless, especially when he’s only a meter in front of him.

“About ten minutes until the interview, okay?” Kuroo says, checking his watch. He’s dressed sharply for the evening, and straightens out his jacket as he approaches the door. “I’ll be back in eight. Hajime, maybe prep Tooru a bit?”

Iwaizumi eyes Kuroo carefully, but nods. “Okay.”

Oikawa can’t help but feel that Iwaizumi and Kuroo must have exchanged some words before he got here, but he doesn’t get the chance to ask before Kuroo leaves and slams the door behind him.

He takes a deep breath and looks up to face Iwaizumi, who is watching him closely.

“Relax,” Iwaizumi says, reaching out to knock Oikawa’s shoulder gently. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

Oikawa laughs and with it his shoulders relax. “You’re the one about to go knock some shit or get the shit knocked out of you… shouldn’t I be giving you the pep talk?”

He smiles with ease, but freezes at the predatory grin that Iwaizumi gives him. A shiver runs down his spine. Iwaizumi’s on the hunt, and with the confidence emanating from every inch of his body Oikawa feels for the poor soul that he’s going to be facing tonight.

“I’m more than ready,” he says, and steps closer to Oikawa. His expression falters, and he puts a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder. “But first… are we… you and I... “ he pauses, “are we okay?”

Oikawa looks up to meet Iwaizumi’s eye. They’ve said what they needed to - the air is clear, and they’ve both apologized. Oikawa’s ego might be a little bit bruised, but he’s not harbouring any ill will towards Iwaizumi.

The only one he’s having a hard time forgiving is himself.

“Yeah,” Oikawa says and reaches up to lie his hand on top of Iwaizumi’s and squeeze it. “We are.”

Iwaizumi looks relieved as he smiles at him. “Good.” He lets his hand sit for a moment before pulling it away, stepping back and stretching his arms up. “Don’t worry about the interviews. It’ll be the same as the last ones, but there might be some more reporters trying to get your attention. If it’s not booked through Tetsu, we don’t have to do it though, so you can just ignore them.”

Oikawa nods confidently. “Got it.”

“Just stay close to me, too. You saw how crazy things can get out there,” Iwaizumi says.

“Okay,” Oikawa says. He smooths out the front of his jacket, spinning around to look for a mirror.

“Hang on, here,” Iwaizumi says, stepping closer and reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind Oikawa’s ear. He smooths out a few strands until he’s satisfied. “You look great. Ready?”

Is he?

Oikawa nods anyway though, calming himself down with a smile. “Yes.”

But he knows he’s not ready. Not really.

Not ready for the energy, for the excitement, for the way the screaming crowds make his heart race and blood run cold.

Not ready for the way his instinct is to let himself be swept up in it and carried away.

Oikawa stays focused, though. He keeps close to Iwaizumi, as instructed, and the interpreting helps distract him and give him something concrete to anchor himself to.

The interviews only serve to hype Iwaizumi up further, who is filled with raw, visceral energy by the time it’s his turn to fight.

It’s incredible.

He’s incredible.

When Iwaizumi steps out into the ring, Oikawa can’t fight it anymore. The energy washes over him and this time, he lets himself be pulled into Iwaizumi’s world.