Chapter Text
Iwaizumi sits behind his desk, tapping his feet on the hardwood floors and his fingers on his mahogany desk.
“Iwaizumi-san, if you keep that up you’re gonna wear a hole through the desk,” Kindaichi says.
Iwaizumi pauses his motions and quickly glances to his phone before looking back at his computer screen.
“And what are you expecting that has you constantly checking your phone every three minutes? No, don’t give me that look, I’ve been watching you do it all morning,” he chides.
“I, uh, I might have….” Iwaizumi starts, “uh, I might have setupadatewithsomeoneonthatsugardaddysite,” he rushes through, almost too quickly for Kindaichi to understand.
Almost.
He takes a second to process what he just heard and smiles a big, genuine smile.
“I’m happy for you, Iwaizumi-san, I really am. You already look less stressed. How long have you been talking to him?” Kindaichi asks.
“Uh, about a week or so. We started messaging through the website's chat feature but we exchanged numbers after a couple of days.”
“Well, tell me about him!”
“Kindaichi, we’re not going to gossip like a couple of old aunties,” Iwaizumi sighs.
Kindaichi gives him puppy dog eyes. Iwaizumi is weak to puppy dog eyes.
With a sigh, Iwaizumi leans back in his chair to relax.
“Well, I guess he was a lot different than a lot of other profiles I clicked on. He didn’t list any interests that not so subtly included my money. He liked movies and museums and books and nerdy shit like star wars and space and classic literature and word puzzles and fucking One Punch Man. He sounded new to this whole,” Iwaizumi waves his hands around vaguely, “sugar daddy thing, and I am too, so I messaged him.
“He’s a recent college graduate working at an editing house, but he wants to be an author one day. He’s incredibly motivated and enthusiastic about his work and talked to me about it for hours and it was really easy to listen to him. I actually enjoyed listening to him list off the Thirteen Common Mistakes Writers Make and How To Correct Them.”
Iwaizumi can’t help the small smile that crosses his face and Kindaichi looks at him smugly.
“Well, what’s he look like?” he questions.
Iwaizumi blushes.
“Hajime, you sly dog!”
“Shut up! It’s not like that!”
“Oh?"
“No, he’s just….really cute,” Iwazumi fiddles with some pens on his desk, “he’s got light brown hair that’s always styled, you can definitely tell he takes time on it. Actually, you can tell he takes time on his whole appearance because his skin, it’s so flawless, he’s gotta use a ton of products, I swear. I can hear him now, ‘Iwa-chan has such a caveman face, so rough! You need exfoliator!’”
“Iwa-chan?!” Kindaichi sputters, leaning over with his hand on his knee, trying not to laugh.
“Don’t you have something to be doing other than terrorizing me right now?”
“No, no, nope, I don’t think so, this is exactly what I’m suppose to be doing. Sooooo, where are you taking him tonight?”
Just as Iwaizumi opens his mouth to answer, a ping! interrupts them.
“Oh, is that your lover boy? Well then, I won’t keep you busy. I have to get these charts down to the fifth floor anyway. Don’t forget to email those files to Dateko by closing!” Kindaichi exclaims as we walks out of the office.
When did he get so sassy Iwaizumi mutters under his breath as he reaches for his phone. He clicks his home screen and the butterflies in his chest start fluttering around.
Can’t wait for our date tonight, Iwa-chan! ヽ(*⌒∇⌒*)ﾉ You better not look better than me! I have to make a good first impression!
In a rare moment of weakness, Iwaizumi responds back,
Don’t worry, I’m already impressed enough.
He doesn’t respond back to Oikawa’s,
(*ﾟOﾟ*) sly Iwa-chan!
***
Iwaizumi throws his tie on the bed, grunting when it doesn’t make a satisfying thud. That’s the third he’s tried on and nothing looks right in his eye. He doesn’t want to look too formal, they’re only taking an hour or so’s drive to one of his favorite restaurants. It’s not even a fancy place, just a little mom and pop kind of place, but Iwaizumi is convinced they have the best ramen in all of Japan there.
He doesn’t get to go there often because of how busy he is with work. In fact, he doesn’t get to do much of anything since he’s always so busy at work. But he dutifully went home at 5 o’clock every night during the week to tune his old ‘69 Stingray Corvette. He has an Audi that his driver chauffeurs him around in but the Corvette is just plain fun to drive.
Iwaizumi tears through his closet again, trying to find something to wear when his housekeeper knocks on the bedroom door.
“Iwaizumi-san, I brought your dry cleaning. If you could, could you please round up your dirty clothes so I could bring them to the wash?”
“Oh yes, of course Mika,” Iwaizumi mumbles offhandedly, still focusing on trying to find something, anything , to wear.
“The cream cashmere sweater.”
“What?” Iwaizumi turns around.
“The cream cashmere sweater. It’s nice but it is thick enough to keep you warm if you drive with the top down.”
“...the top down…?” Iwaizumi parrots.
“Iwaizumi-san, I’ve seen you work on that old car of yours all week. You’re going on a date, yes?”
“Uh,” Iwaizumi clears his throat, “Uh, ya I am.”
“If I may?” Mika asks.
Iwaizumi ushers her into the closet. Well, closet is a gracious term; some would consider it a small room.
Mika goes from rack, to rack, grabbing articles of clothing and laying them out on the center console for Iwaizumi to inspect.
A cream colored cashmere sweater, a medium weight forest green jacket with dark green elbow patches, dark colored jeans that Iwa notices are one of his tighter pairs, a white gold Rolex that he had gotten on his 35th birthday from the company, and a pair of Raybans.
“Wow, Mika, that’s really nice.”
“Of course it is, dear,” Mika replies with a wave as she grabs the laundry basket and walks out of the closet.
“Oh, and wear some tight underthings,” she adds with a wink.
Iwaizumi is frozen on the spot, red in the face, as he watches Mika walk out of the room.
***
Iwaizumi takes a deep breath to steady himself. You can do this, it’s not your first date. You’ve been on plenty of dates, you just gotta walk up to the door. Knock on the door, tell him you’re ready to go.
He pats his pockets to make sure he has his keys, phone and wallet and grabs the flowers, a dozen roses in assorted colors; red seemed too traditional but he didn’t know what other colors to buy. So he decided on all of them.
One more breath.
Oikawa lives in an average apartment building in an area close to the college campus. It’s utilitarian but not decrepit, typical of someone fresh out of college. He takes the stairs, only three flights, to calm his nerves.
He triple checks the name and number on the plaque outside the door and gives it three solid knocks. He hears movement and then a coming! Iwaizumi shifts on his feet and the door opens.
Oikawa is standing there in black skinny jeans that hug his long legs in unfair ways. He’s wearing a black and white striped shirt with a puffy gray American NASA bomber jacket. It’s nerdy, but street chic. Iwaizumi thinks it suits him.
“Iwa-chan! You made it! You didn’t get lost did you?”
“No, Oikawa, you forget that I went to college here, too. I only used to live a few blocks over. Oh, here, these are for you.”
“Roses? What, are we getting married, Iwa-chan?”
Iwaizumi blanches.
“I’m kidding! They’re lovely. Yellow ones are always my favorite. So cheerful! Lemme put them in water and grab my keys and we can leave.”
Iwaizumi glances around Oikawa’s apartment while he’s searching for a vase. It looks like his old one in his college days. Laminate floors meant to look like tile, carpet that’s worn down in obvious pathways, cabinets made from compound board rather than real wood. But everything is in working order and it's kept clean; it’s enough for a single, 22 year old male. Iwaizumi sits down on the couch when he hears Oikawa’s voice echo from beneath the sink just a minute, Iwa-chan, I swore I had a vase here somewhere! It’s a newer couch in good condition, it looks like the nicest piece of furniture in Oikawa’s rag tag assortment including two mismatched end tables, a low table for sitting and a kotatsu in the corner with a laptop on top, dvd’s piled around it. Most of them are Star Wars or Star Trek or other versions of things with star in them. Iwaizumi chuckles to himself.
“Found it!!” Oikawa triumphantly exclaims, hoisting it above his head before lowering it in the sink to fill with water.
Iwaizumi is busy examining Oikawa’s bookshelf, trying to read more than several titles in English when Oikawa comes over and taps his knuckles on his shoulder.
“Ready, Iwa-chan?”
The two walk down Oikawa’s stairs close enough to bump shoulders a few times until Iwaizumi pauses to fish his keys out.
“Which one is yours, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks
“This one right here,” Iwaizumi replies, unlocking the driver’s side.
“This is your car?!” Oikawa yells loudly, and then under his breath, “holy shit.”
“Yeah, I’ve always had a thing for old cars. I took a ride in this kind of car once as a kid and fell in love. When I got my first big bonus at Seijou, I bought this from a collector online and had it shipped from America. I spent five years restoring it. Runs like a dream now.”
Oikawa runs his fingers across the dark blue paint while Iwaizumi gets in and leans over to unlock the other side.
“Get in, Oikawa, we’re going for a drive.”