“Wow, look at all this meat.” Oikawa eyes the delectable before himself.
“I hope you don't plan on eating my arm, Trashykawa.” Iwaizumi glares as he quenches his thirst after the cool-down stretches.
“You know I would never do that Iwa-chan.” Oikawa pouts.
Snort. “Of course not. You would never. Sh**tykawa.” Iwaizumi ignores the cries of alarm and hurt from said person.
“See, just as I said. Even Iwa-chan believes me!” Deciding to make “Iwa-chan” eat his words, Oikawa puffs his cheeks out like a squirrel with too much to eat.
“Agh, you two, if you're gonna flirt do it off the court.” Matsukawa begs, followed by nods and grunts of agreement from Hanamaki. Iwaizumi just glares at them in disgust.
“You're just saying that because you're jealous of me and Iwa-chan’s relationship!” Oikawa grabs Iwaizumi’s arm for emphasis, not noticing the intense glare now directed his way.
“Ah, I wouldn't say jealous. More like annoyed. And if you value your life any longer, I suggest you let go.” Matsukawa answers while pointing to “Iwa-chan” whom Oikawa is still clinging to. Hanamaki nods and hums in affirmation.
Feeling an impending sense of doom loom over him in the form of a shadow, “Trashykawa” turns to the bearer of the “meaty” arm in his hold.
“You better start running.” Is all Iwaizumi says as he cracks his knuckles. “‘Cause I'm gonna crush you, and it's no fun when weaklings don't fight back, so I give ‘em headstarts.”
Trembling from head to toe at the sight of Satan’s face, Oikawa bolts in an attempt at self-preservation.
In the end he doesn't succeed, Hanamaki grunts and nods in agreement.