Work Text:
0. convince your best friend to do these dumb fucking exercises
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, in the way that he does whenever he’s about to say something exceptionally annoying. His beam is saccharine, overly sweet like the six packs of milk bread he made Hajime buy him last week, and he’s sitting on top of his desk despite a perfectly usable chair being right fucking next to him because he’s a slob who doesn’t know how to organise himself or his workspace. “I found a bunch of exercises for friends to do together—you know, bonding activities?”
“Okay,” Hajime says, and he returns to his work.
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines, more insistently this time. He slides off his desk and perches atop Hajime’s instead, knocking off several books and approximately six highlighters in the progress. “We’re friends. We should bond.”
“We live together,” Hajime replies. “We’ve known each other since we were two; I don’t know how much more we could possibly bond without, like—” He bites his tongue—he was about to say dating, but Oikawa would just turn it into some sort of joke and Hajime honestly isn’t sure how many more jokes about this he can take.
“Without what?” Oikawa asks. He blinks. “Oh, wait, I know—if we bonded more, we could turn telepathic, right? Maybe we already are. What am I thinking right now?”
“Oh, wow,” Hajime says in what’s definitely a terrible impression of Oikawa’s voice—after nineteen years he still doesn’t know how to get the cadences quite right, “I’m being annoying as hell right now; I should leave Iwa-chan alone and focus on studying for my midterms.”
“Don’t say Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, wrinkling his nose. “It doesn’t sound right coming from you.”
“I can’t believe that’s all you got from that,” Hajime says. Oikawa stares blankly at him.
“What else was I supposed to get?” he asks. Hajime wordlessly shoves Oikawa off his desk, ignoring his offended cry.
“I could’ve cracked my skull and died just now, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, standing up and cradling his (definitely uninjured) elbow delicately. “You could’ve killed me.”
“The only reason I haven’t yet is because I need someone to pay the light bill,” Hajime snaps.
“And because you love me,” Oikawa chirps. “You forgot that.” Hajime rolls his eyes—stares determinedly at his textbook, though he’s been reading the same paragraph for the past fifteen minutes. “Anyway! Bonding exercises. We can get Mattsun and Makki or Tetsu-chan and Bokkun to join us, if you want.”
Hajime shakes his head—participating in Oikawa’s Bullshit of the Week is bad, but participating in Oikawa’s Bullshit of the Week with people bound to make fun of him for it is far, far worse. “Fine,” he sighs. “After midterms, we’ll do your fucking exercises. How many are there?”
Oikawa’s eyes sparkle (actually sparkle, like he’s some sort of Disney princess) as he claps his hands. “Three,” he says cheerily. “Want me to list them out?”
“No,” Hajime answers.
“Well,” Oikawa continues, as if Hajime hasn’t said anything, “the first one is—”
1. spend a day outdoors together with no technology to help said best friend escape his misery
Hajime is very much a morning person. He goes on jogs at six every day just so he can enjoy the sunrise and solitude, preferring to sleep early and wake up early than sleep at three in the morning and wake up past noon like Oikawa does.
Being a morning person, though, does not mean he likes to wake up before the ass crack of dawn because his insane best friend has decided that spending a day outdoors actually means spending precisely twenty-four hours outdoors.
“Rise and shine,” Oikawa crows, cheerfully banging a spatula against a pan right next to Hajime’s poor ears. Hajime groggily stares at him, too tired to summon a proper glare. Oikawa stares back, something strangely soft in his eyes despite the very harsh clang of his stupid wooden spatula and his stupid unused pan.
“What,” Hajime finally manages, rubbing his eyes, “fucking time is it.”
“It is,” Oikawa checks his watch because of course he’s wearing a watch even though he’s in his pajamas, “3:45.”
“I loathe you.”
“Bonding, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says wisely. “Saying you hate me is the opposite of bonding.” He pauses, thoughtful. “Or it would be, if you weren’t a mean dwarf-monster who doesn’t know how to express your undying love for me any other way than through insults.”
“Dwarf-monster,” Hajime repeats. He’s already regretting this.
“Undying love,” Oikawa reiterates, tugging Hajime out of bed. “C’mon, the longer we spend inside the later we’ll have to be outside tomorrow.”
“Or,” Hajime says, carefully, “we could spend the day outside like—when the sun’s out.” Oikawa sticks his tongue out.
“Don’t be lame. It’s supposed to be a clear sky tonight, and that means—”
“Stargazing,” Hajime completes. “Yeah, I know.” Oikawa beams at him, impossibly fond, and for a minute Hajime feels like spending twenty four hours outdoors with him might not be so awful. After all, they used to spend weeks together at various summer camps. They’re a little older and a little taller (and you’re a little more disastrously in love with him, an annoying voice whispers in the back of Hajime’s mind), but not much else has changed.
“I bet you don’t remember the names of any constellations,” Oikawa says, “since all you have in that tiny skull of yours is like, weight lifting facts, probably—”
No, Hajime decides as he noogies Oikawa until he shuts up, this is definitely going to be the worst.
“We should go to a dog park first,” Oikawa announces once they’re out of their apartment complex. “I wanna play with a golden retriever.”
“It’s four in the morning,” Hajime reminds him. “Maybe not the best time to look for dogs.” Oikawa waves a hand dismissively.
“Crazy people walk dogs at night.” His smile turns self-satisfied and annoying. “That’s how I met that girl—the one with the bows, remember?” Hajime feels something sharp twist in his heart, but he’s not going to be immature over something Oikawa can’t even control, so he just snorts.
“She left your ass a week after you started dating. I’d say she was pretty sane.” Oikawa runs a hand through his hair.
“Well,” he says, sounding uncharacteristically bashful, “I think I have someone else I like anyway, so it all worked out.” Hajime’s heart hurts again, more of a dull ache this time. He’s not the jealous type, and if someone makes Oikawa happy then he really has no right to complain, but -
He turns his head away, staring at the sky. “That’s cool,” he replies. He grins awkwardly, still unable to look at Oikawa. “Maybe they’ll stick around.” After a silence, Hajime glances back at Oikawa. He looks oddly disappointed, hands jammed in his pockets and lower lip jutted out like it used to when he was about to cry.
“They already have,” he sighs. “I’m just—it’s not in the way I want.” His face is strangely ageless when he’s upset, a childish pout contrasting with a weariness in his eyes. In a moment, he’s smiling again, though it’s false enough that Hajime would normally call it out. “Anyway! Enough about my love life; I’m sure I’m making you jealous because you don’t exactly have one—”
“Do you ever shut up?” Hajime asks, but there’s no bite in it—there never is. Oikawa’s smile is a little realer when he strikes a pose.
“You never do.” Hajime’s close to saying something sappy enough that he might never recover, so he just reaches out and ruffles Oikawa’s hair instead.
“Dog park,” he says.
“Dog park,” Oikawa agrees cheerfully.
The first seven hours or so aren’t bad at all—it’s fun to play with dogs (Oikawa forms a bond with a tiny, angry pomeranian who they both agree reminds them of Kyoutani), and afterwards, they have a picnic nearby.
Around noon, though, it begins to get warm, and when it’s warm, Oikawa’s whiny.
“Iwa-chan,” he wails, flopping back onto the grass next to where Hajime’s laying in a similarly exhausted state. “I think I’m gonna die.”
“I warned you last night; we could’ve rescheduled if you weren’t so fucking stubborn.” Hajime wipes sweat off his brow before letting his left hand rest behind his head. His other hand is right next to Oikawa’s. He wonders if it’d be a giveaway if he held Oikawa’s hand—it’s too hot for coherent thought right now.
“We should get ice cream,” Oikawa says instead of arguing back.
“I don’t wanna walk,” Hajime groans. Oikawa sticks his tongue out, his eyes crossing a little when he tries to look at it. Hajime pretends he doesn’t find it cute.
“Don’t be a baby.” Oikawa laughs—definitely too hard, his eyes crinkling a little as he struggles to sit up. “You’re usually saying that to me.” He tugs Hajime up, steadfastly ignoring his cry of protest.
“You’re an asshole,” Hajime says, and Oikawa throws up a peace sign in response.
When they reach the ice cream shop and wait at the counter, Oikawa points at him. “You should know my order.”
“Are you quizzing me?” Hajime asks disbelievingly. Oikawa shrugs, and Hajime sighs. “Jesus fucking—he’d like a neapolitan sprinkle cone with chocolate drizzle and marshmallows, please.” When Oikawa beams something flutters in Hajime’s chest—embarrassing, he thinks as he looks away.
“You do know me well,” Oikawa coos, and before Hajime can say something like obviously, dumbass, I’ve listened to your ice cream order for at least sixteen years by now, he holds a finger to Hajime’s lips. “My turn now.” He spins toward the cashier, shooting her his most charming grin. She cautiously smiles back. Hajime rolls his eyes. “Mint chocolate chip in a bowl, please.”
“That’s not a really hard order to memorize,” Hajime points out after they sit down.
“It’s still something,” Oikawa says. He grins, too bright and too wide. “See? I’m paying attention.”
“I—yeah, sure,” Hajime replies, confused. “I know. You always do.” Oikawa stares down at his ice cream.
“Yeah,” he agrees, sounding oddly melancholy. “Too much, sometimes.” Hajime doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just eats his ice cream and wonders why things have been so weird today.
At night, they go stargazing, like promised, and Hajime doesn’t remember any of the constellations. (Okay, maybe he remembers one or two or half of them but pretends not to because Oikawa’s sort of cute when he’s pointing them all out, genuinely excited like he used to be over volleyball.)
“We’ve done this a million times. I thought you’d be better at this by now,” Oikawa says once they’re done. His hand is close enough for Hajime to reach out and grab it and never let go, but instead he pulls his own toward his chest and prays that he doesn’t do anything embarrassing.
“Maybe it’s the exhaustion,” Hajime answers around a yawn, because it’s three in the fucking morning and no matter how gay he is he still values his sleep. Oikawa snorts. He looks softer like this, illuminated just by the moonlight. His eyes reflect the stars and his hair is spread around him in something resembling the rays of the sun. Hajime closes his eyes—wonders if they are really telepathic, if Oikawa can really hear his thoughts and know just how obnoxiously in love he is.
(God, if Hajime’s wondering about telepathy he really is too tired.)
“We should go home, then,” Oikawa says after what feels like an eternity. He pulls Hajime up again, though he leans on him for the entire walk to their apartment. “Hey, Iwa-chan,” he mumbles into Hajime’s neck as they finally get inside. Hajime hums, too tired to form proper sentences anymore. “Can I sleep in your bed?”
“Fine,” Hajime replies, too tired to pretend to be annoyed. “Just don’t—uh, don’t steal the blankets.” He yawns again. Oikawa snickers as he climbs into bed next to Hajime, wrapping around him and leeching off his warmth.
“You’re cute when you’re tired,” he says, and before Hajime can freak out, he’s asleep.
2. compliment each other at least five times within one day (your best friend is pretty sure this is just for your ego)
“This is stupid,” Hajime says.
“That’s an insult,” Oikawa replies with a grin so smug Hajime wants to slap him. “Not a compliment. I think that should count as negative one.”
“I never said you were stupid.” Hajime stares at his closed organic chemistry textbook, wondering if he can pretend to have homework to get out of this. “I just said this is stupid—the idea you allegedly got from a website.”
“I did get it from a website, Iwa-chan, and frankly, I find it offensive that you think I’d make this up just to get you to be nice to me.”
“I never said you made it up,” Hajime says, fighting back a smile. Oikawa stares at him with an odd expression for a moment before he scowls.
“No technicalities,” he snaps. “Be nice. Compliment me, Iwa-chan.” He preens, and Hajime fights the urge to slap the backside of his head. Instead, he grits his teeth—glares harder at the textbook.
“You—you’re a good leader,” he begins, because that much is safe. He’s said Oikawa’s a strong leader before; everyone’s said it, and he’s not ashamed of thinking so. Oikawa smiles anyway, lurching forward to sit on the stool next to Hajime and sling an arm around him.
“Okay,” he chirps. “You’re very strong.”
“You’re really hardworking,” Hajime continues, carefully, before he frowns. “That’s not always a good thing, though; you need to learn how to take a break —”
“Backhanded compliments don’t count, so you should probably stop before I disqualify it,” Oikawa suggests. Hajime blinks.
“Hey, how come you get to decide what—”
“You care,” Oikawa interrupts. The tips of his ears are pink. “I mean—you’re really caring. Which is nice, sometimes, when I forget to be.” Hajime stares. Oikawa stares back before he laughs, sharp and loud. “Okay, let’s stop for a little bit; if you’re too nice to me I’ll think I switched you out with a clone.” He blinks, tilting his head. “Maybe an Iwa-chan clone who’s nice to me wouldn’t be so bad, actually—”
Hajime pushes him off the stool.
The compliments come back when he’s making dinner. “You’re a good cook,” Oikawa says, hugging Hajime’s waist from behind as he gazes at the stove. Hajime hopes his face isn’t as red as he thinks it is.
“You’re a good driver,” he replies.
“Wait, what—oh.” Oikawa laughs. “Compliments, right. Um, you—you’re really smart.” He smiles against Hajime’s throat. “I literally don’t get anything you’re learning right now.”
“You’re aiming for a law degree,” Hajime replies, spooning out their food. “If you understood O-chem I’d be scared.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “You’re a good public speaker—sit down; I’m not going to eat at the stove and neither are you—you’re a good public speaker because you’re charismatic, which is—it’s cool, I guess.”
“Charismatic,” Oikawa repeats. His eyes are shining. “Iwa-chan knows big words now, huh?” Hajime scowls as he sets down their plates.
“You literally just said you thought I was smart.”
“You can be smart and still not know big words,” Oikawa says absentmindedly. He takes a bite. “Uh, you’re—I don’t know; you have a nice smile.”
Hajime stares and Oikawa looks up at the ceiling, grin cheery and false. “I mean—you know, when you actually smile, not those stupid ones in pictures where you look like a gorilla —”
“If we’re playing by your rules you should’ve gotten at least two taken away by now,” Hajime interrupts instead of letting him continue. Sometimes when Oikawa says things too earnestly, Hajime lets himself hope, just for a moment, which ends up causing him more pain anyway. He’s learned to quash any genuine compliments with deflection so that he doesn’t daydream about kissing Oikawa’s stupid face and holding his stupid hand and going on a stupid date with him. (It doesn’t work. He’s sort of an idiot, that way.)
“The rules don’t apply to me,” Oikawa crows. “Your turn. Last one.”
Hajime stares at his bowl—contemplates how much he could possibly lose.
“You have pretty eyes,” he says, finally, and Oikawa’s silent.
“Oh,” Oikawa says. When Hajime looks at him he’s smiling shyly like he did on the morning of their twenty-four hours outside. “Thanks.” Hajime clears his throat.
“Okay, what’s the next one?” he asks, and Oikawa beams.
3. play a get-to-know-you game made for middle schoolers in new classes, not best fucking friends
“This is kind of boring for you,” Hajime says. “Especially since it’s the last one.” Oikawa glares.
“It’s just simplistic,” he replies defensively, lighting candles (Hajime still doesn’t get why they need candles, but Oikawa says it’s for the ambiance). “Just two rounds and then we’ve successfully bonded and we can cement our place as the best friends in history ever.”
“I just don’t get why we need a game to do that,” Hajime says. Oikawa opens and closes his mouth.
“We—we just do.” He grins with the sharps of his teeth. “Me first. I broke my leg because I climbed a tree to impress a girl in the other class when we were six, I hate tea unless it has at least four spoons of sugar per cup, and everyone thinks I’m scared of spiders but I think they’re cute.”
“You broke your leg when you were seven,” Hajime says instantly. “It was a week before your birthday; I brought cake in and you said you’d decided you were in love with me now. This is way too easy; I’ve know like, everything that’s ever happened in your life.” Oikawa’s ears are pink again.
“I wouldn’t say you know everything,” he says, oddly cryptic in the way that he’s been ever since they moved in together. “Your turn now.”
“Ugh.” Hajime stretches, almost knocking over a candle. “I cheated on a test when we were twelve and felt so guilty I turned myself in while I was doing it, I want to get a dog once we’re—” He pauses. They’d never discussed living together after college, and it’s stupid of him to think Oikawa wouldn’t want to move out and find another roommate (someone better, something insidious in Hajime’s mind hisses, a cute girl he can settle down with). “Once we graduate and I move into a complex that allows pets, and I don’t like frogs because their eyes freak me out.”
“You love frogs,” Oikawa says, rolling his eyes. “You tried to keep one as a pet when we were six; at least try to make this hard.”
“Fuck you,” Hajime replies, though he can’t hold back a laugh. Oikawa stares at him for a moment before he laughs, too.
“Okay,” he says. He looks nervous, biting his lip like he does before particularly difficult exams. Hajime has no idea why—a stupid bonding game shouldn’t be a big deal, but he doesn’t say anything. “Okay,” Oikawa repeats. “This one will be easy, I think.” He taps his fingers against the floor, staring at a candle instead of making eye contact. “My favorite color is blue, I want a pet rat someday, and I’m in love with you.”
Hajime blinks.
“Well, that was fun,” Oikawa says, too high-pitched and too quickly. “I have to – go now, I have errands to run and stuff – ”
“Don’t,” Hajime says. He feels like he’s soaring. “Your favorite color is green. I still have my turn.”
“But – ”
“I hate coffee, I like animals, and I’ve been in love with you since forever, asshole.” He’s smiling so hard he feels like his face will fall off. “I can’t believe – I thought I was being obvious.”
“You – I thought – wait.”
“I’m in love with you,” Hajime repeats, more slowly. “And you’re in love with me too.” When Oikawa smiles it’s radiant, unabashedly wide and bright. “Was this – was this whole fucking thing just so you could say that?”
“Um,” Oikawa says. He holds up a peace sign. “It worked, didn’t it?”
3.5. why would you go through this elaborate fucking plan when you could just ask your best friend out you complete loser
“We’re going on our first date,” Oikawa says. “Iwa-chan brought me flowers; isn’t that so cute – he even looked up the meanings and everything –”
“Stop telling Kuroo everything,” Hajime calls. Oikawa turns around and sticks his tongue out before hanging up.
“Not my fault that I’m excited.” He walks over, straightening out his shirt and holding up his tulips. “Are you planning to serenade me? You already know my top five romantic songs – ”
“Later,” Hajime says. Oikawa’s eyes widen.
“Iwa-chan, are you really gonna sing for me? That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” he says, awed. Hajime looks away, scratching the back of his neck.
“Maybe.” He glances back and grins. “If you promise not to be embarrassing the whole time.” Oikawa tries his hardest to frown, though he’s clearly hiding a smile.
“My entire job is embarrassing you,” he sighs. “I don’t know how I’ll survive.” He beams, then, so brightly Hajime feels like he has to look away. “But maybe if you’re singing to me it’ll be worth it.”
“Don’t – you’re already being embarrassing,” Hajime replies, feeling his ears turn red. “C’mon, let’s head out or we’re gonna miss dinner.” Oikawa looks incredibly fond, and Hajime thinks that this might be the happiest he’s been in a long time.
Sometimes, Hajime thinks as they walk out of their apartment, intertwining their fingers and smiling probably too hard, Oikawa’s Bullshit of the Week isn’t that bad after all.