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Risk Mitigation

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"Oikawa-san," Suga hissed through his teeth the moment the door closed behind him and two warm hands were on his shoulders. "Just because we -"

 

"How many times have I told you to stop calling me that," Oikawa grumbled, all the while fitting Suga up more tightly against his office door. Suga tipped his head back and glared. He tried to ignore how Oikawa smelled this morning… a pleasant mix of coffee and cologne.

 

He tried to ignore how easy it would be to lean up and catch Oikawa’s lower lip between his own -

 

"You’re my boss, Oikawa-san," Suga answered sweetly, forcing his thoughts onwards instead of downhill. "And just because we -"

 

Oikawa fluttered his eyelashes and oh, that wasn’t fair at all. He made no move to come any closer but that face — well, Suga knew Oikawa knew all too well what that face did to him.

 

"Just because we what, hmm, Kou-chan? Just because of last weekend? Is that what you were going to say? Because if I remember correctly, that night was initiated by you… and so was the next morning before I left…"

 

Suga stomped on his foot.

 

Oikawa let go with a whine, limping backwards. Suga nearly smiled at the pout the grown-ass man in front of him was wearing, but he kept a straight face and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

"Ouchhh," Oikawa snarled. "Mean, Sugawara. That was -"

 

"You were asking for it," Suga stated bluntly.

 

Oikawa shot him another watery-eyed glare and then turned to hobble around his big desk to sit in the wing-backed chair behind it, muttering under his breath. Suga sighed at the other’s dramatics. He hadn’t stomped that hard.

 

"So what did you actually call me in here for?" he asked, moving to lean a hip against the front of the desk. God, he envied Oikawa of his windows in here — they seemed to look out over the entire city and today was perfect. It was the kind of weather Suga wanted to go home to so he could curl into bed and finish his latest murder mystery novel — overcast and damp, the threat of rain hanging tenaciously in the heavy air.

 

Oikawa didn’t answer.

 

Suga tore his eyes away from the view and then startled a little at the look his boss was leveling at him over the wood.

 

"What?" he asked defensively.

 

"I can’t walk," Oikawa stated petulantly. "And I didn’t call you in for anything. I just wanted to -"

 

"You just wanted to ambush me at the door because we slept together a grand total of two times last weekend?" Suga finished, smiling wryly. Boy, he was never drinking near Oikawa again — because boy, Oikawa had been embarrassingly right with his earlier remark.

 

Suga had been the one to initiate… whatever had gone down between them last Saturday night. Sunday morning too. His cheeks threatened to burn right now just remembering how easily he had given in to his… baser needs.

 

In his defense, it had been the weekend after a big job had finished successfully, Suga had had a little too much to drink, and Oikawa had been right there — pretty and arrogant and everything Suga had promised himself never to get involved with.

 

Only he had. He had gotten involved with everything Oikawa had to offer. It didn’t help that they’d spent the last year flirting with each other at company events over glasses of champagne, winding each other up and firing jabs at department meetings, choosing each other as partners every time they held work holiday parties and there was a game to play against their sister industry across town.

 

Oikawa scowled at the words now, crossing his arms over his chest. His tie hung too loose around his neck, a silk thing made up of alternating colors, diamond-shaped. Suga’s fingers itched to fix it.

 

"Rude, Kou-chan. I just wanted to talk. I didn’t ambush you," Oikawa defended and Suga actually couldn’t help it this time. He laughed.

 

Oikawa watched him through narrowed eyes. Suga laughed harder.

 

"It’s not funny," Oikawa complained and Suga got his face under control again, shifting to sit a little on the edge of Oikawa’s desk. He didn’t miss Oikawa’s eyes, following the movement.

 

"Sorry," Suga apologized. He didn’t know if he actually meant it but he said it regardless. It seemed to appease Oikawa’s irritation a little at least, his brow smoothing out. He looked like a little kid for a moment — sitting in a chair too big for him, eyes large and bright and that annoyingly soft mouth curled down at the edges in uncertainty.

 

Suga cursed Oikawa’s good looks silently.

 

"Listen, Oikawa-san," Suga started when the silence started to grow a little too large for comfort. He couldn’t keep staring at Oikawa’s puppy-dog face or he didn’t know what he’d actually end up saying.

 

"Don’t call me that," Oikawa snapped again. "It makes me sound like my father."

 

Suga sighed. "Okay, fine. Oikawa… whatever happened last weekend, we should forget about it, okay? It was unprofessional and we both had too much to drink."

 

There was a beat of silence. Oikawa just stared at him, eyes unreadable. Suga stared back, defiant but definitely feeling like he could’ve made that argument just a little bit stronger now that he was finished talking. Why hadn’t he just ended it last Sunday again?

 

Oh right. He’d been too preoccupied to remember something as important as setting boundaries. Both of them had and Suga shook himself inwardly for their joint stupidity.

 

"Unprofessional," Oikawa finally repeated, breaking Suga from his inner turmoil. His voice was flat and unimpressed. "That’s what you’re going with? At least make me believe you regretted it, Suga-chan. Come on, use something a little more… oh, I don’t know. Harsh? Try saying it was a mistake instead. Come on, spit it out, don’t be shy."

 

Suga tilted his chin at Oikawa’s sneer but he kept his cool, eyes narrowing just a bit. A sugar-sweet smile found its way to his face by habit.

 

Oikawa sat back in the chair and even though everything about his posture was lazy and laid-back, Suga could tell he wasn’t. He was braced. He was waiting for Suga to repeat his words back to him, like a slap to the face. That little cruel twist to his lips only emphasized his discomfort, underneath it all.

 

Suga wondered if Oikawa knew that he could see right through it, the facade. He wondered what the other man was thinking, right now, as Suga hesitated for a moment.

 

The thing was, Suga had considered that night a mistake.

 

He had woken up the next morning to find his cheek pressed to a bare chest and Oikawa Tooru’s naked limbs wrapped around him and he had felt his stomach drop. Fragments of the night had come back in terrifying clarity despite being stained at the edges with the influences of alcohol — he had remembered excessive flirting, someone telling them to "get a room, my God", and then Oikawa’s mouth on his outside the bar… insistent and hot and just as sweet with chasers as his own.

 

He had remembered getting a cab and not being able to keep his hands off of Oikawa the entire way back to Suga’s apartment, swallowing Oikawa’s noises in the gloom of the backseat and digging his fingers into the muscle of Oikawa’s thigh…

 

… and after that it had been Oikawa’s lips on the back of his neck, telling him to hurry up with the lock as Suga fumbled with the key. It had been stumbling in attached to each other and not bothering to turn the lights on because Suga wasn’t letting go for a moment. It had been the smell of cologne and sugary alcohol and sweat and then a mind-bending heat everywhere — building and building and building with Oikawa’s hands wandering and Suga’s lips bruised and nothing but pleasure owning every inch of his skin as they fell into bed together, clothes lost somewhere between the front door and there.

 

Until Suga had woken up the next morning.

 

Then it had been a cold sweat and nausea and a head-splitting hangover… and regret. So much regret.

 

Until… until he had taken painkillers, had coffee, and then run into Oikawa fresh out of the shower — warm and dark-eyed and unbelievably pliant and soft the moment Suga had kissed him without thinking first.

 

Suga hadn’t even managed to get Oikawa back into his bedroom… they’d just wound up on his tiny couch in his living room that time.

 

Suga took a deep breath in the present, shaking himself from his thoughts with a little willpower. He focused on Oikawa’s iron gaze and he felt the words well up in his throat.

 

"It was a mistake, Oikawa-san. We shouldn’t be involved with each other. I don’t trust you completely and you’ll soon realize I’m not the kind of person you want either. We’ll break each other’s hearts."

 

Only they didn’t come.

 

Suga sat there, on the edge of Oikawa’s desk, as they stared each other down and he couldn’t force those four simple sentences up his tight throat.

 

"I have work to do," is what left his lips instead. Suga’s heart skipped an odd beat in his chest, hearing it out loud.

 

Oikawa’s eyes flickered to surprised at the same time. He obviously hadn’t been expecting that as much as Suga hadn’t decided to say it and he opened his mouth… but Suga had already done too much and not enough at the same time so he stood up before Oikawa could say anything.

 

He stood up before Oikawa could reel him back in with his voice.

 

"Have a good day, Oikawa-san," Suga threw over his shoulder, walking quickly to the door. He felt a hot flush of shame cover the back of his neck despite the cool discipline of his tone.

 

God damn it. He should’ve said what Oikawa had told him to. He should’ve said it was a mistake and he should’ve forgotten about everything after, washing the memories down the bathroom sink with cold water.

 

The thing was, he hadn’t…

 

… and the entire time after — right up until Oikawa’s office door closed behind him with a sharp click — Suga couldn’t shake the feeling of Oikawa’s eyes on him — a heavy gaze pressed flat, right between Suga’s shoulder blades.

 

Suga sighed and slumped against the door once it had shut and he ignored the sharp look Oikawa’s secretary thew him from a few feet away. Iwaizumi Hajime was probably wondering if he’d been fired, Suga thought with a sort of grim humor.

 

He probably looked like he had been, in all honesty.

 

Suga straightened up and smoothed out his wrinkle-free tie and then marched past Iwaizumi’s desk with a curt nod, heading for the elevators to go back down to his cubicle. He wanted coffee. He wanted to get his latest project done so he could get Kiyoko-san off his back.

 

Most of all though, as the elevator dinged and opened and Suga stepped inside… he wanted to know why he hadn’t been able to say the right thing.

 

Suga stared at his face in the elevator mirrors, watching the way the harsh lighting turned his hazel-brown eyes to deep, dark pools… watching the way it made his beauty mark stand out in stark resolution.

 

Oikawa had had an odd fascination with that mark, Suga remembered vaguely then, side-tracking. He remembered the other man’s words in his ear — low and wanting — the butterfly-wing brush of his lips against Suga’s cheekbone — once and twice, countless times…

 

Would you stop? God. Suga shook his head and cleared his throat.

 

He backtracked.

 

He hadn’t been able to say the words to end it all. He had done the worst thing he could’ve done actually. He had given Oikawa hope and now…

 

Well now, Suga thought wryly, blinking when the elevator stopped and opened onto the sickly yellow glow of his own floor…

 

Now, he was screwed.