Iwaizumi finds a lacy pair of panties hanging on the banister when he enters the foyer with coffee, donuts, and files balancing on his forearms. He prays to God that it isn’t his boss’s.
Ignoring the garment for now, he trudges along into the kitchen to dump all of the items onto the counter. It’s way too early to give a fuck about arranging the paperwork neatly for Oikawa to look over and Iwaizumi should still be in his lumpy bed in his cramped, two room apartment. But instead, he feels like he is about ready to pass out on Oikawa’s kitchen floor from the way his body sways from left to right.
He can see his reflection in the floor so it’s not like he’ll be sleeping on something dirty. It might actually be good for his back when he thinks about it. More support for his spine.
Before Iwaizumi can allow sleep to take hold and pull him to the ground, he hears a quiet whirring sound coming from behind him. Groggily, he turns his head to see a small metal claw on wheels roll into the kitchen with a woman’s tote hanging from its silvery pincher. Papers are spilling out of it as the robot wheels its way over to Iwaizumi, carelessly rolling over any pages that get in its path.
It holds the bag up to Iwaizumi like it's a peace offering and beeps. Iwaizumi notices that there’s also a sticky note attached to the front of the purse and he pulls it off, instantly recognizing the neat and precise handwriting.
You know what to do
As if on cue, he hears a woman’s voice begin to echo in the large home and the padding sound of feet briskly walking through the halls. The robot drops the purse and bolts out of the kitchen the way that Iwaizumi came in, beeping loudly like it was screaming in fear.
Iwaizumi curses and quickly tries to gather the pages that the robot ran over and stuff them back into the purse, then throws the bag onto the counter amongst all the other junk. Throwing on his most casual expression, he leans against the counter and waits.
A girl – young woman, probably college age, must be an intern for some magazine company, will definitely be easy to get rid of – bounds into the kitchen, big eyes darting around searching for something, or rather someone. Her brown hair is a tangled mess done up in a sloppy ponytail and it looks like she put her clothes on in the dark since there’s some buttons done up wrong and her skirt is on backwards. Her makeup – what’s left of it, anyways – is all smudged over her face. Most of it is probably rubbed off on Oikawa’s bedsheets and pillows (that Iwaizumi will have to see to get cleaned).
Oikawa sure knows how to pick them.
She notices Iwaizumi and jumps a bit, startled. Realizing how she must look, she makes an attempt to straighten her hair and fluffs it a bit. It doesn’t help at all.
“Um, excuse me, have you seen Tooru anywhere?” she asks nervously.
“Oikawa-san is currently handling business matters,” Iwaizumi recites, familiar with the usual shtick. He doesn’t remember ‘getting rid of one night stands’ being a part of the job description for the assistant of a major CEO of a technology company. If it was, he should be getting paid way more than he is now for putting up with this shit.
The girl pouts. “But I’m supposed to have an interview with him for my magazine,” she says with a huff and Iwaizumi reaches out to grab the purse off the counter, holding it out towards her.
“In here is a list of answers to any and all questions you may have, personally typed. And knowing Oikawa-san, there will be a car arriving shortly to take you anywhere you like,” Iwaizumi states flatly.
The girl blinks, then takes her bag and places the strap over her narrow shoulders. She looks absolutely confused, blinking her doe eyes with the most dumbfounded expression on her face as she sifts through the papers. She opens her mouth like she wants to make a comment, but then goes back to looking through her bag and nervously biting on her lower lip. That’s good, that’s less of a headache for Iwaizumi if she’s cooperative.
“. . .Right then. . .um, I’ll just. . .” she begins and Iwaizumi nods his head.
“I’ll walk you out,” Iwaizumi says and gestures towards the front door. The girl nods her head and trails after Iwaizumi in her own walk of shame. They pass by the frilly garment still dangling on the banister and Iwaizumi clears his throat, averting his eyes towards the expensive chandelier hanging overhead.
The girl glances up and spots the underwear, quickly snatching it off the banister and shoving it into her purse amongst all the papers. She hugs her purse tight to her chest and ducks her face in embarrassment, rushing past Iwaizumi and makes it to the front door first.
“I can show myself out, thanks,” she says in a hurry, fumbling with the doorknob. She quickly opens the door and slips out, shutting it fast behind her. Iwaizumi sighs through his nose and rubs the side of his forehead, easing the headache away before it can really agitate him.
A friendly little beep sounds behind him and he turns, seeing the robot wheeling back into the foyer, swinging its claw from side to side. Iwaizumi frowns at it and places hands on his hips.
“You didn’t have to run off like that,” he tells it.
The robot beeps indignantly.
“It’s awkward for me too, you know,” Iwaizumi gripes and loosens his tie. “Where’s Shittykawa?” he asks.
The robot bends its arm downwards and taps the tip of its claw against the floor. Iwaizumi sighs deeply and nods his head in understanding. He goes past the stairs, lazily running his fingertips along the wall as he searches for that one little spot-
“Ah,” Iwaizumi says and presses his thumb deep into the wall, into the little spot below a framed picture of a young Oikawa seated on the lap of his father. He always complains to Iwaizumi to find another picture for him to hang instead, but Iwaizumi always conveniently forgets to.
It’s a good conversation starter; Iwaizumi likes to talk about the time before Oikawa became the young multibillionaire and simultaneously annoying shit boss of his. Back when Oikawa was just ‘Tooru’ to him, sleepovers and stargazing and sharing each other’s childish secrets.
A section of the wall slides away to reveal a steel staircase leading down below the home. Iwaizumi slowly descends, making a mental note to have lights installed so someone doesn’t slip and break their neck trying to get down here. It’s also extremely cold; a small chill runs up his spine. No way any sane person can be down here for extended periods of time.
Then again, anyone that actually knew Oikawa might have a thing or two to say about his state of mind.
Iwaizumi reaches the ground floor and peers through the glass wall separating the entrance way to Oikawa’s workshop. Sure enough, there’s a figure hunched over a glowing hologram projection of some schematic Iwaizumi can’t even fathom how long Oikawa has spent going over it. He clicks his tongue and enters unannounced, watching to see how close he can get without Oikawa noticing him.
He barely makes two steps in when Oikawa’s head rises up, alert.
“How’d she take it?” he asks aloud and Iwaizumi folds his arms over his chest.
“Better than the one from Forbes did.”
Oikawa nods his head and then goes back to examining the hologram. Iwaizumi circles around Oikawa’s desk covered in empty pizza boxes and multitudes of wires and metal that don’t seem to be connected to anything. His eye catches something buried underneath a volleyball magazine and hopes that glowing core isn’t radioactive material because he does not need Sugawara questioning him about whether or not Oikawa built another bomb.
When Iwaizumi gets close enough to see the blueprint in the projection, he hasn’t a clue what the hell it’s supposed to be.
“How long have you been down here?” Iwaizumi asks and Oikawa hums, slowly twirling a screwdriver in his hands as he stares at the projection. His long fingers are covered in oil and the filthy grunge goes up to his forearms. Black stains cover the front of his old volleyball jersey in big splotches, some of the spots getting on Oikawa’s sweats that were a present from Bokuto, bless his soul.
“Like. . .two hours, give or take. I know it was after she went asleep. And that was after our little ‘interview’ and that was after the keynote address about the company expansion in America-”
“About what time did her underwear get flung onto the banister?” Iwaizumi asks and Oikawa gives a coy little smirk.
“Iwa-chan, if I didn’t know better, I’d say I heard a little tone of jealousy,” Oikawa says and Iwaizumi scoffs.
“Yes, I’m very jealous that you got the chance to be a hormonal idiot for the fourth time this month while I, unfortunately, had to be the responsible adult and schedule meetings with potential investors,” Iwaizumi says crossly and Oikawa pouts.
“That icy tone of yours makes me wonder if you forgot who signs your paychecks.”
“Shimizu, head of payroll.”
Oikawa leans back on his stool; it teeters rather unstably as he gives a huff. “Well if you’re going to be literal about it,” he says and rubs the sleep from his exhausted eyes.
Iwaizumi blinks. “You just smeared oil all over your face.”
“It’s okay, Iwa-chan. Not even a little bit of dirt can tarnish my good looks,” Oikawa says with a little wink. Frustratingly, Iwaizumi has to agree with that comment. Oikawa is usually always covered in sweat and motor oil from spending long nights in his workshop, tinkering with things that should be left alone for the greater good of mankind. And no matter what, he always looks like he was peeled from the cover of Vogue or Dolce & Gabanna latest ‘grunge meets chic’ look.
It pisses Iwaizumi off more than it should, because Oikawa has brains and beauty, which is already too much for only one person to possess. Bastard.
“There’s coffee and donuts upstairs as well as files I need you to look over and sign and hand it back to me before Saturday.”
“Why couldn’t you have brought any of that stuff down here?”
“Because I was getting rid of your one-night stand. Besides, you need to stop and get some sunlight. You're not a fucking bat,” Iwaizumi elaborates and Oikawa snaps his fingers at a metal arm on four wheels.
“Hey U, go and get the coffee from upstairs. Also, a donut with sprinkles if there’s any,” he orders. The arm jolts upwards, swinging from Iwaizumi to Oikawa, before it begins to slowly make its way towards the stairs.
“How do you expect him to get up the stairs?” Iwaizumi asks and Oikawa bites the inside of his cheek.
“. . .Didn’t think about that. Mind giving him a hand with those muscular arms of yours?” Oikawa asks, flexing his muscles to add emphasis. His arms are not as built as Iwaizumi’s are, but Iwaizumi still feels something stir in his chest when Oikawa does so. The brunet bats his eyes up at Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi rolls his own, deciding to forget about that little quiver in his chest for now.
He turns on his heel and opens the door for the robot to exit, then crouches down and lifts the machine into his arms. He grunts under the heavy weight, then staggers up the first step, the second step, and so on.
“He needs to make you more mobile,” Iwaizumi grunts under the strain. The robot gives a sad little whir in response as Iwaizumi continues up the steps. He places the robot down when he finally gets to the top of the steps and opens the panel for both of them to exit into the foyer.
“Make sure he signs those papers!” he shouts at U. It spins its hand around in a circle as a gesture of understanding, and then slowly wheels itself towards the kitchen at a rate slower than a snail. Iwaizumi sighs, he’s definitely not getting paid enough for this.
It’s around three in the morning when Iwaizumi’s cell phone rings obnoxiously loud on his nightstand. It takes him a while to answer it, since it startled him so much that he accidentally rolled off his bed and onto the floor and then spent a few seconds groaning about the painful ache in his lower back.
Iwaizumi greets whoever is on the other line with a hello, but it just comes out as a sleep-filled grunt.
“What’s your type?”
Iwaizumi furrows his eyebrows and wipes the bit of drool from his mouth. “Do you have any idea what time it is, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi grumbles out, sounding less intimidating from being awake for only two minutes.
There is a long pause and Iwaizumi wonders if he’s just dreaming all of this right now. Or maybe Oikawa just called him for no reason and fell asleep like he should be doing right now. “. . .Morning?” Oikawa finally answers and Iwaizumi rubs his face.
“Yes. Morning. Sunday morning. My day off,” Iwaizumi lists off.
“You know the saying, early bird catches the worm?”
“Not when the bird doesn’t have to get the worm until Monday. You’re an idiot and I’m hanging up now.”
“Wait, wait, Iwa-chan! I need to ask you an important question!” Oikawa whines into the other line. “Your type? What’s your type?”
“Did you seriously wake me up at three in the morning to ask me about my type? Why are you even awake right now, what are you doing?” Iwaizumi questions. He doesn’t even have to be there to know that Oikawa is already rolling his eyes.
“Just having a cup of coffee and thinking about if my poor, little assistant had a night to act like a hormonal idiot, would he finally loosen up?”
“And what were you doing before that?”
“Being totally honest with you, I have no idea. It looks like a blender though. With wheels.”
“Not a bomb though.”
“No, not if I want Kou-chan coming at me with a month-long lecture and a Taser.”
Iwaizumi chuckles low under his breath. “So spill. What kind of person are you interested in?”
“Why do you care? I don’t want my boss meddling in my love life.”
“Don’t think of it as your boss meddling in your love life. Think of it as your childhood friend meddling in your love life.”
“I’m hanging up this time-”
“One thing! Just give me one thing to go off of and I’ll have QT make arrangements for you to have a nice Sunday brunch at your favorite restaurant on me.”
Iwaizumi hums, mulling it over in his head. Free food or keeping his dignity. Going to sleep right now and having free food when he awakens, or blocking Oikawa from a side of Iwaizumi that he’s not sure he wants to share. At least, not yet.
“. . .Tall, I guess,” he slurs into his phone, rather exhausted. Oikawa hums.
“Tall. Ok. I can work with that. . .goodnight, Iwa-chan.”
“It’s morning. Maybe you should put in a clock instead of playing with blenders on wheels. And install some lights in that stairwell so you don’t break your neck going down there at ungodly hours,” Iwaizumi states. Oikawa chuckles again; it sends sparks down Iwaizumi spine and makes his toes curl.
“Okaaaayyy. . .morning, Hajime.”
Iwaizumi’s breath hitches, just a bit.
The elevator is less packed than usual as Iwaizumi enters it Monday morning, most likely because everyone is in the lobby taking advantage of ‘Muffin Monday’. Probably 3/4ths of the employees in this company have never seen/talked to Oikawa, yet they are always quick to say what a great boss he is to host fun days like this.
He reaches his floor and passes by Tsukishima at his desk still, headphones on his ears and completely ignoring everything and everyone around him. It’s rather stupid that Oikawa assigned an assistant to Iwaizumi when he himself is the assistant to Oikawa, but it came with Sugawara’s recommendation that Iwaizumi could use the extra help around the office and wasn’t up for discussion.
It’ll be easier to keep an eye on him if he’s with you, Sugawara told him in private over some drinks. Plus, I can trust you won’t let Oikawa-san run any weird experiments on him to test his abilities.
“Morning,” Iwaizumi greets. Tsukishima glances up and pulls off his headphones to be respectful. Had it been Oikawa, they probably would have stayed on.
“Morning. . .Iwaizumi-san, are you into online dating?”
That certainly isn’t a question Iwaizumi is expecting to come out of Tsukishima’s mouth. He furrows his eyebrows.
“When I checked your e-mail this morning, there were a lot of responses to an online dating profile with your name and picture.”
Iwaizumi is by Tsukishima’s side in an instant, glaring at the screen so hard his eyes might as well pop out of his skull and punch the display in. There were dozens of email open, some deleted and some just waiting to be perused. They’re all from different dating websites too, from women and men. Some are with some filthy messages describing what they’d like to do to Iwaizumi and vice versa, while others are accompanied with a picture that Iwaizumi doesn’t dare to scroll down and view entirely.
He stares and stares and stares until he stands up straight, nostrils flaring and vein on the side of his head threatening to burst.
“Tsukishima-kun, get rid of all those accounts and those emails. By whatever means necessary. Any emails of relative importance, forward them to Kunimi. . .scratch that. Forward them to Kindaichi.”
Kunimi usually never checks his email. He spends his time at the computer playing Solitaire and not even trying to hide it. Kindaichi, on the other hand, will make sure Iwaizumi has the email file, a print out, and pdf version forwarded to Oikawa as well. Overly thorough, but Kindaichi always wants to make sure everything is perfect for his well-respected superior that he may or may not have a puppy crush on. Iwaizumi never bothered to look into the matter.
Tsukishima nods his head in understanding. “By the way, you have someone here to see Oikawa-san.”
Which means they’re here to see Iwaizumi.
“‘Aoba Josai Enterprises’ someone, or ‘S.H.I.E.L.D’ someone?”
Please don’t be Sugawara, please don’t be Sugawara, please don’t be Sugawara.
He grits his teeth and enters the office behind Tsukishima’s desk, bracing himself for what could be behind the door. The good outcome would be it’s just a S.H.I.E.L.D. operative playing messenger and relaying information to Oikawa that Iwaizumi shouldn’t know about but is trusted with anyways. The bad outcome would be that it’s Sugawara playing messenger and relaying information to Oikawa that Iwaizumi shouldn’t know about but is trusted with anyways.
The horrible outcome would be Sugawara being there and he doesn’t have any information, only questions. Questions about Oikawa’s work, questions about Oikawa’s whereabouts, questions that seem far too intruding and make Iwaizumi feel uncomfortable by being put on the spot like that.
His breathing stills when he opens the door and prepares what to say next. Either a pleasant hello or a pleasant ‘I don’t know anything and don’t want to talk about it. Care for some coffee?’.
Instead, he finds Matsukawa and Hanamaki both poking through the drawers of his desk.
Iwaizumi breathes a sigh of relief and promptly says, “What the hell are you two doing?”
Hanamaki blinks, then smirks and hops over the desk. “Yo! Iwaizumi! Long time no see!” he says like he wasn’t going through Iwaizumi’s things. Iwaizumi frowns as Matsukawa closes a drawer and places his hand on his hip, his thumb subconsciously rubbing the folded up bow inside its quiver.
“What were you two looking for?” Iwaizumi questions and Matsukawa shrugs.
“To be honest, we don’t know. Originally, Sugawara asked us to come here and check things out. Like a little ‘superhero check up’. But then I found a candy you had stashed away and lost track,” Matsukawa explains and holds out a hand. “You’re a secretary and you’re telling me you don’t have a jar of chocolates to snack on around here?”
“There’s free muffins in the lobby. That’s good enough. More importantly, shouldn’t you be rummaging through Oikawa’s office if you’re going to do a ‘superhero check up’?”
“Too obvious. If he had something to hide, he’d hide it with you,” Hanamaki states and Iwaizumi bites his lower lip. He’s correct about that. It makes him uncomfortable that S.H.E.I.L.D. initiates know that.
Hanamaki folds his hands behind his head. “But, everything is looking a-OK around here, so we’ll be leaving. Got to check out Akaashi-san’s lab and Nishinoya’s office as well. Tell Oikawa that he got a gold star on his check up,” Hanamaki says with a teasing grin. Iwaizumi nods his head, biting the inside of his cheek.
He opens the door and allows for the two initiates to exit, Hanamaki playfully ruffling up Tsukishima’s hair as they pass by. “And how’s our itty-bitty spider doing! Are you still up for training later this week?”
“I’ll pass,” Tsukishima says with the fakest smile Iwaizumi has ever seen. It almost rivals some of Oikawa’s smiles that he makes towards other business partners or Ushijima. He makes a mental note for Oikawa to not hang around Tsukishima any more.
Hanamaki shrugs and both wave goodbye, taking their leave through the elevator. Iwaizumi enters his office and sits down at his desk, checking through his drawers for anything missing. His eyes immediately meet a file that wasn’t there before and a small sticky note attached to it. He cautiously takes the file and is about to slip it into his suitcase before he reads that on the sticky note, it’s specifically addressed to him.
So Oikawa emailed us all and told us you were a legs type of guy so just wanted to help!
Iwaizumi opens the folder and is met with a bunch of files on S.H.I.E.L.D. initiates. Nothing detailing the line of work they do or even their civilian names and addresses. Stuff like their likes, dislikes, hobbies, what they look for in a man, etc. Their heights are also circled in red and there’s attached pictures of their legs.
Matsukawa’s profile is here and under comments is a note from Hanamaki.
You can’t have him. Keep reading.
Hanamaki’s profile is next. There’s a note from Matsukawa as well.
Look but don’t touch.
Iwaizumi wonders if it’s physically possible for him to storm S.H.I.E.L.D. and take down two of their top agents and their director in one swoop. Then murder his idiot boss and make it all look like an accident.
He takes the file and grips it tight in his fist before he gets up and briskly walks out of his office. He hands the file to Tsukishima.
“Destroy this too. I’m going out for some fresh air,” Iwaizumi says gravely.
Tsukishima nods his head and Iwaizumi ignores the small sly grin that comes over the blond’s lips.
“Ya-ho! You reached my personal cell phone! I’m not here right now but if you want, you can always call my personal secretary and he’ll give you a much faster response guaranteed!”
Iwaizumi hangs up before Oikawa can ask him to leave a message for him to answer. Bastard.
The restaurant QT set up a reservation for Iwaizumi is more of a small little diner than some fancy five-star restaurant. It’s cozy enough and there isn’t much business going, so Iwaizumi is able to be quickly seated by the window and get his order taken. People walk past the window either on their cell phones or talking excitedly with their friends. The traffic in the streets moves at a calming slow pace. It’s a nice day out, with the sunbeams streaming light through the window and bathe Iwaizumi in a serene light.
The waitress comes by to top off Iwaizumi’s glass with some more water, smiling pleasantly.
“It’ll just be a few more moments, sir,” she chirps, eyes bright and wide. Iwaizumi nods his head, turning his cell phone around in his hands as he debates on calling Oikawa again. So far, no annoying emails popped on his phone and he’s been receiving the usual business mails courtesy of Kindaichi.
As he is about to press the button to redial Oikawa’s number, a shrill scream erupts from behind him.
He looks up and barely has a few seconds to jump out of his booth and dive to the ground to avoid a car being hurled through the front window of the diner.
He gets to his elbows and crawls further away to the corner, bits of glass falling over his legs and the smell of smoke and blood filling his nose. He glances over his shoulder, seeing that the car is completely wrecked and tries to gloss over the fact that there is so much blood inside the vehicle and underneath it. What the fuck. What the fuck is going on?!!
He grits his teeth and looks outside the broken window, seeing the busy street traffic is now nothing but crushed cars and debris. People that were once on the sidewalks were now fleeing inside buildings, some of them getting trampled in the panic. He gets to his feet, looking to see some of the diner patrons making a futile effort to move the car off the bodies that it crushed to help them. His stomach twists into knots at the sight and he presses a small button on the side of his phone Oikawa installed personally.
Hopefully, it doesn’t take him too long to respond.
“Everyone! Take cover in the back!” Iwaizumi shouts. It falls on deaf ears. Everyone is still screaming and sobbing and trying to push the car off the bodies, too panicked to even pay attention to Iwaizumi. He clicks his tongue.
“Everyone! We need to-”
“W-What’s that?!” a woman screeches and points a finger out the window, eyes blown in terror. Everyone’s attention follows and Iwaizumi turns to look himself. But when he sees just what it is, he can’t even find the words to describe what is happening.
Floating above in the air, looking over the ruined diner and the people scrambling like ants below. . .is a child. It. . .it isn’t possible. Iwaizumi has seen a lot of shit being Oikawa’s assistant – a lot. Gods and experiments gone wrong and secret technology that could get someone killed – but this takes his breath away.
The child doesn’t look older than seven or eight from the size of the body. Iwaizumi can’t see their face this low either, and they’re wearing a snug beanie over their hair and bandages cover their arms and legs. The child raises their hand and disappears quick in a flash of purple static. Iwaizumi blinks, before out of the corner of his eye does he see that the car that is in the diner also begins to have purple static surround it.
“O-Oi, get away from the car!” Iwaizumi shouts. Unfortunately, the warning comes too late.
Iwaizumi flies back from the blast and his back slams against the wall of the diner. The car is engulfed with flames and anyone that was near it is now thrown across the diner in a charred heap. This fire seems to be burning out of control far quicker than normally, the intense heat and smoke making it difficult for Iwaizumi to breathe. Iwaizumi covers his mouth with his hand, weakly trying to get to his feet as he tries to stagger towards an exit.
The fire is burning hotter as he tries to get around the car. He clambers over a booth and feels a terrible pain in his side as he falls to the floor. He places his hand to his ribcage, pulling it back to find there’s some blood on his palm. Rubble must have hit him in the blast.
He stumbles back to his feet and throws his body against the front of the door. To his confusion, it doesn’t budge like it is supposed to. Iwaizumi grits his teeth and throws his body against it again and again, cursing and swearing as the flames get hotter and the stink of burning corpses make Iwaizumi want to vomit.
“Come on! Come on!” he screams and hacks as smoke fills his lungs. He raises his hand to his nose to cover his mouth and looks towards the broken window. That’s the next option. If he can get back over to that area and climb out-
Just as he thinks this, the ceiling above him collapses and Iwaizumi quickly jumps out of the way of falling debris. He doesn't get far and lands on his injured side, screaming in pain as he feels a heavy light fixture fall and trap his right leg. More bits of the ceiling begin to fall and collapse all around him, flames growing so hot and so high above. Iwaizumi feels blood on his mouth from a cracked lip and runs his tongue over it.
He thinks that it might not be so bad to die in a fire. If he thinks about it, this will probably be the least frightening almost death experience he’s had so far. Dying in one of the Hulk’s rampages could be a lot worse, he wouldn’t even have a recognizable body if that happened. Dying in a freak test accident by Oikawa or Kuroo would not only be worse, it would also be extremely humiliating and he will not have peace until he’s haunted Oikawa and Kuroo for the rest of their lives for being such idiots.
He manages to chuckle at the thought. God, is he going to die? He’s feeling lightheaded and his leg that’s underneath the light fixture is numb. The flames are beginning to lick at his feet and his hands are covered in ash and some blood. He doesn’t really want to die here. He doesn’t want to die without tying up loose ends.
More importantly, he doesn’t want to die without telling Oikawa. . .without telling Tooru. . .
“Tooru. . .” Iwaizumi murmurs, a single tear coming from his eye as he thinks about Oikawa’s smile and thinks about his voice. He doesn’t want to leave Oikawa alone. Iwaizumi is all he has, he’s the only one he can trust. He can’t leave him. He can’t die. He can’t. . . he can’t. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
“. . .Hey. . .can you hear me?”
. . .
. . .
. . .
Iwaizumi’s eyes flutter open, vision blurry. There’s someone over him, something wet spilling over onto Iwaizumi’s face. He frowns and raises a bandaged hand to wipe off the drops of water on his cheek. He realizes a second later that they’re tears. Another second later, his vision clears a little more and he’s met with Oikawa’s face over his.
“. . .You’re so ugly when you cry, you know that?” Iwaizumi mumbles and Oikawa huffs, sniffles and wipes his eyes. He looks like he wants to punch Iwaizumi and shout something, but since Iwaizumi is apparently lying in a hospital bed and is currently hooked up to an IV, he instead ops to grab hold of Iwaizumi’s hand and clutch it tight.
“You’re so awful, Iwa-chan. Do you know how worried I was when I found you in that rubble?” Oikawa croaks, trying to control his voice. Iwaizumi turns his head, moving his fingers so they twine between Oikawa’s long ones.
“Yeah. . .I know. . .”
“I mean, do you know how hard it will be to find another competent secretary like you?” Oikawa asks and Iwaizumi scowls, yanking his hand from Oikawa’s grasp. He winces at the sudden movement, then turns on his side so he can look at the flowers that are waiting on his nightstand. They’re big and colorful and tied up with a small ribbon. There’s also a small card stuck in between the chrysanthemums, addressed to Iwaizumi from Asahi.
Well at least someone cares. He’ll send Asahi a muffin basket when he gets out. On Oikawa’s tab of course.
The bed dips and Iwaizumi feels arms around his body, pulling him into a warm chest and a nose gently snuggling into his hair.
“Oi, get off Shittykawa. This bed isn’t big enough,” Iwaizumi protests. He notices that the heart monitor is starting to beep obnoxiously loud and fast. He quickly begins to search for a way to shut it up.
Oikawa only holds him closer, his hot breath on the back of Iwaizumi’s neck. “No. . .Hajime, I’m so happy you’re okay. . .I thought that I was too late-”
“You weren’t. You know, having all your weight on me can’t be good on my injured body.”
“I was for those other people that died in there,” Oikawa murmurs into Iwaizumi’s skin, completely disregarding Iwaizumi’s comment. “If I were any second slower getting to you. . .who knows what might have-owowowwowOW!” Oikawa yelps, Iwaizumi twisting his wrist backwards.
“You need to realize that you can’t save everyone. If I die, it isn’t your fault,” Iwaizumi says and turns to look over his shoulder. Oikawa’s face is blotchy and red and his eyes are puffy. There’s still a little bit of snot running from his nose and his lips are still twisted like a sob is threatening to slip. He is an ugly crier; it almost makes Iwaizumi want to kiss him just so he can stop looking that way.
The heart monitor seems to beep even faster now and Iwaizumi quickly yanks off one electrode on his chest. It immediately flatlines; the noise seems to be even more annoying.
Oikawa takes the electrode and reapplies it to Iwaizumi’s chest, his fingertips lingering directly over where Iwaizumi’s heart beats at a steady pace deep within his ribcage.
“If you die, it will be my fault, no matter what you say. We’re supposed to keep each other safe, remember? Making sure the other is alright.”
“I’ve been doing a shit job at that. When have you had a decent sleep?”
“Crime never sleeps, so neither do I.”
Iwaizumi flicks Oikawa’s wrist in response. Oikawa chuckles.
“Well, you don’t have to worry, Iwa-chan! Per request of Iron Man, you are to remain in this hospital and receive the best 24-hour care until you’re in tip top shape!” Oikawa chirps and Iwaizumi hums.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to turn down his offer. He doesn’t know I have an idiot for a boss that will probably cause his entire company to go bankrupt if I’m not present.”
“So mean! You really think I don’t know what’s going on in my own company?!”
“You have a meeting tomorrow. Do you know with who?”
Iwaizumi takes Oikawa’s lack of a response as a no. Iwaizumi sighs. “Tell ‘Iron Man’ thanks but I have a job to do.”
“So do I,” Oikawa says strongly. He gets out of the bed and grabs his jacket. “The nurses told me you’ll be out in a couple of days. Just try to relax and get better. I’ll be over tomorrow.”
“After your meeting,” Iwaizumi says crossly and Oikawa pouts.
“Who’s next in line after you? Kunimi-chan can take notes for me, can’t he?”
“Okay, okaaay. But I’ll be over here the second it’s over,” Oikawa says and then blinks. “. . .Or rather, Iron Man will be here the second it’s over but, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” Iwaizumi says quietly.
Oikawa pulls on his jacket and adjusts his tie, before he takes a hold of the door handle and looks over his shoulder at Iwaizumi lying in the bed. He looks like he wants to protest to stay, like he wants to watch over Iwaizumi personally and ensure he gets better. But that’ll be too much too soon. There’s a small tension in the air that strangles Iwaizumi’s throat and twists his stomach in knots. He wants to tell Oikawa to stay, but the words don’t leave his lips.
Oikawa throws on a smile that is transparent. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Iwa-chan! Sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite!” he says, exiting the room quickly after. Iwaizumi stares at the door and then sighs, slumping in his bed and staring up at the bright lights above him.
Yep, not getting paid enough for this.