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You helped Wakatoshi tie his apron around his waist since he had helped you with yours and laid your hands on the counter, waiting for class to begin. Wakatoshi had thought it was a good idea to take a couple’s cooking course to develop between communication skills and to also be a force to be reckoned with in the kitchen. He was already a proficient cook, as were you, but Wakatoshi believed in refining his skills to a point where he could not identify errors. You agreed because it would be fun to collaborate with your beloved, not to mention see his creative side.
“Remember, Toshi, this is not a competition. We’re just gonna have a bit of fun!” You nudged Wakatoshi’s shoulder with your own, earning a grunt from the tall wing spiker. His lips turned slightly upward at your enthusiasm, and he turned to wrap an arm around your waist and place a chaste kiss to your forehead, but the sound of the bell above the door stopped him.
What–or who–he saw enter the store made him stop dead in his tracks.
“Toshi? Are you okay?” You spoke slowly, following your boyfriend’s eyes to where they were glaring at whoever had just entered the store. You faltered.
Oikawa, in all of his proud glory, had entered the store, laughing and chatting with another man whom you recognized as Seijoh’s ace.
So now this was war.
“Ah, Ushiwaka, it’s always a pleasure to see you.” Oikawa greeted artificially upon seeing Shiratorizawa’s captain and ace. Iwaizumi simply held up his hand in greeting, bowing his head to the both of you politely. You returned the gesture, but Ushijima just stood there, staring at Oikawa emotionlessly.
“I did not know you were interested in the culinary arts, Tooru.”
“Yeah, well, Iwa-chan always tells me I don’t know how to be a team player, so I signed us up for this to prove him wrong.”
“This is not what I had in mind.” Iwaizumi admitted quietly, gruffly, and through gritted teeth. You could tell he did not want to be there.
“That’s okay! It’ll be a lot of fun, you’ll see. My friends tell me this teacher is really nice and works hard with her students to get the best results.” You offered, seeing Iwaizumi visibly relax upon your reassuring words.
“I mean, I guess I’ve always wanted to learn how to make sushi…”
“That’s the spirit, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa cheered, throwing his arm around the shorter man’s shoulders. He directed his gaze back to Ushijima, who was still standing the same way he was when he first spotted Oikawa. “May the best pair win.” He taunted before guiding Iwaizumi to their own station.
You placed a cautionary hand on your boyfriend’s chest, willing him to not take that literally. But of course, he already had.
Throughout the teacher’s entire lecture and demonstration, Ushijima kept his eyes trained on her every move–deciding how he would carry out his own ministrations. He’d already planned it all out: you were better at rolling sushi and smaller details than he was, since you had smaller fingers that made for finer tasks. But he knew he was a master at filleting fish. The pair of you would finish before Oikawa and Iwaizumi, and come out with a better spread of sushi.
"So, I think that we should make nigiri, sashimi, and maki rolls. For a variety. You will assemble and roll the sushi, and I will filet all the fish you need.” Ushijima checked the rice in the rice cooker, a small grunt of satisfaction could be heard as he noticed the rice was done cooking.
“Wakatoshi,” your voice was low, “do you remember what I said about this not being a competition? That still stands. Just because Oikawa is here now does not mean that anything has changed.”
“He challenged us. I know you heard it. We are going to beat him because we are the better pair.” Ushijima was already sharpening his knife against the honing steel, giving Oikawa a pointed glare. Oikawa waved back artificially.
“Stop provoking him, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi mumbled while he packed the rice onto the nori sheet, already having done most of the work while Oikawa “ooh-ed” and “aah-ed” at Iwaizumi’s culinary skills.
“But it’s so much fun!” Oikawa accentuated the claim with another provocative glance in you and Ushijima’s direction, the corners of his mouth tilting into a smirk. Ushijima made eye contact with the pretty setter as he swiftly brought the sharp edge of his cleaver down between the fish’s body and head, splitting them apart.
Ushijima was smiling. And it was quite unsettling. You’d never seen your boyfriend smile in public–he’d usually only offer you small smiles in the comfort of your own apartment, while his arms were draped around your waist and your lips would find themselves on his once in a while.
This smile was different, though. It was a smile that said “Fuck you, Tooru” in the polite way that only Ushijma could muster.
While you and Ushijima did not really come in first place, according to your cooking teacher’s rankings, you did overcome Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Which is all Ushijima had asked for.
“So what will you give me?” Ushijima asked bluntly, eyes gleaming at the thought of finally making Tooru succumb to a long time wish.
“What? We never agreed on stakes.” Oikawa raised an eyebrow and rested his hand on his hip. Iwaizumi looked tense. You could relate.
“Well, that is usually how winning something goes. Is it not?”
“Can’t you just have the satisfaction of beating the Great King in one little competition?”
“Not when you are the one who instigated the battle, Tooru.”
Iwaizumi shot a glare at the setter, who folded his hands behind his head and jutted his elbows out. He was subconsciously trying to protect the spot where Iwaizumi usually hit him. He knew he had instigated the silly little competition with the serious wing spiker.
“Okay, I’ll actually listen to one thing you have to say. One sentence. That’s it.”
“We have had many conversations before.”
“Yeah, but do you think I’m actually mentally present for those?” Oikawa cocked his head to the side while Iwaizumi fought the urge to chuckle. Sometimes Oikawa’s sass was actually amusing–when it was directed at someone else of course.
Ushijima inhaled sharply and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him as he thought of what he was going to say. Or pretended to. You knew what he was going to say–and in the back of Oikawa’s mind, he knew it, too.
“Come to Shiratorizawa.”
Iwaizumi could no longer fight the urge to laugh, and Oikawa choked on a piece of nori that he had finally freed from in between his teeth.