Work Text:
They’re lying on the grass, eyes focused on the star filled skies when Matsukawa asks, “Are you going to tell him that you know?”
Oikawa laughs softly, a faint smile on his lips. “Where’s the fun in that?” He says, pressing his lips together and sighing at the moon above before adding, “I don’t even think he knows, to be honest.”
“We always call you an idiot, but it’s been Iwaizumi all along,” Matsukawa says with a laugh of his own.
Oikawa rolls his eyes, elbowing Matsukawa’s side lightly. “Iwaizumi’s not an idiot,” Oikawa defends with a huff. “He’s just...oblivious?”
Matsukawa snorts. “Look at you, defending his honor. You’ve got it bad.”
Oikawa lets out an obnoxiously loud sigh, crossing his arms under his head. “Maybe I should get a girlfriend.”
“Oikawa, what the fuck.”
Oikawa shrugs against the grass. “Maybe if he sees me with someone else his brain will finally put the pieces together.”
“I take back what I said earlier,” Matsukawa says. “You are an idiot. And I hate you.”
“You’re so rude,” Oikawa tells him, frowning, but he’s not really upset. He knows Matsukawa could never really hate him, no matter how many times he pretends he does.
“Don’t get a girlfriend just to make Iwaizumi jealous,” Matsuakawa says, and Oikawa knows it’s a bad idea, but also—it’s kind of a good idea, too. Right? “Oikawa, I can feel the wheels in your head turning. If you get a girlfriend just to make the guy you like jealous, I’ll literally kill you.”
Oikawa lets out a dramatic huff. “Fine. I won’t get a girlfriend just to make Iwaizumi jealous. But if he lives his entire life in oblivion, I’m blaming you.”
“Blame yourself, moron,” Matsukawa says, bumping Oikawa’s head with his knuckles.
“Ouch,” Oikawa whines, despite being perfectly fine.
Matsukawa exhales loudly, a silence settling between them as they get lost in the stars. He can’t count the amount of times he’s done this with Iwaizumi—dragged him into his backyard to lay in the grass and ponder the mysteries of the world.
He’s glad he’s with Matsukawa tonight, though.
There are some things he can’t talk to Iwaizumi about—like the fact that he has a huge crush on his best friend, for example. And okay, maybe crush isn’t the right word, but it’s a hell of a lot easier to deal with than love.
“If he doesn’t figure it out before we graduate, I’m getting over him,” Oikawa declares.
Matsukawa snorts, entirely unconvinced. “That’s a lie and you know it.”
Oikawa groans. “I hate him.”
“You love him.”
“I wish I didn’t.”
“No you don’t.”
Oikawa sighs. “Stupid Iwa-chan…”
“Two idiots,” Matsukua says. “It’s a match made in heaven.”
“You’re a bully,” Oikawa huffs, but it’s half hearted, appreciation seeping through.
On Monday, Oikawa gets confessed to. For half a second, he considers saying yes, just to see the look on Iwaizumi’s face, but he doesn’t want Matsukawa to kill him, and really, he’s not that much of an asshole.
He can feel Iwaizumi’s gaze on him as he politely turns the girl down, but as soon as he turns, Iwaizumi’s eyes are plastered to his lunch. Oikawa resists the urge to let out an audible sigh, not wanting to upset the girl further.
“That was quick,” Iwaizumi comments when Oikawa slips into the seat across from him.
Oikawa shrugs. “What can I say? I’ve got rejection down to a science.”
Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but Oikawa can see the smile threatening to pull at the corner of his lips. “Will you ever stop being a heartbreaker?”
“Maybe one day,” Oikawa hums, resisting the urge to scream, maybe if you opened your goddamn eyes and realized that I’m in love with you. “Let’s go to the park tonight.”
Oikawa’s not sure when it started—the two of them spending their nights at the park, swinging late into the night. It’s just been their thing, ever since they were kids.
“Sure,” Iwaizumi agrees, catching his eye. “If you agree to no extra practice today.”
Oikawa pouts. “That’s not fair.”
Iwaizumi shrugs. “Too bad.”
Oikawa lets out a dramatic sigh. “Fiiiine, Iwa-chan. You win.”
“Do you think aliens have feelings?” Oikawa asks, the cool night breeze ruffling through his hair as he sways his legs to make his swing go higher.
“What the hell kind of question is that, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi grunts, his own swing stilled.
Oikawa shrugs. “What if they’re like, robot aliens?”
“Maybe robots have feelings,” Iwaizumi says, his eyes glued to the ground, which gives Oikawa a chance to admire the way the moonlight shines off his face.
Oikawa’s legs come to a stop, letting the swing slow. “I think you’re right, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, serious as ever. “Would you date a robot, if they had feelings?”
Iwaizumi’s face twists in amusement, his eyes finding Oikawa’s. “I don’t know. Would you date an alien?”
Oikawa grins. “Of course I’d date an alien.”
Iwaizumi chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I even asked.”
“Yeah, it was a pretty stupid question.”
“Would you date a robot alien then?” Iwaizumi tries.
Oikawa hums, as if he’s giving it some thought. “If they were cute, yeah.”
Iwaizumi holds back a smile. “It’s not all about looks, Oikawa.”
“Maybe not for you,” Oikawa says, “but when you’re this beautiful…” He gestures to himself as his swing comes to a complete stop.
“Are you saying I’m not beautiful?” Iwaizumi asks, mocking offense.
Oikawa bites the corner of his lip, keeping his smile from getting any bigger as he shakes his head. “I never said you weren’t beautiful.”
“Just not as beautiful as you?”
“Exactly. Maybe that brain of yours works after all.”
Iwaizumi kicks Oikawa’s leg in response, but it’s far too gentle to cause any pain. “You’ve gotten weak, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa taunts playfully.
“Shut the hell up, Trashykawa,” Iwaizumi warns, but there’s no heat to it, and Oikawa thinks he can make out a faint blush tinting Iwaizumi’s cheeks.
Oikawa swallows, ignoring the way his heart skips a beat in response to a simple blush. “Would you still be my friend,” Oikawa asks, “If I were an alien?” His voice is just above a whisper.
“I’d be your friend even if you were an alien robot,” Iwaizumi says, and the way he’s looking at Oikawa is nothing short of soft. It sends his heart into an uneven frenzy of beats—hopeless, hopeless, hopeless.
“You’re being so nice, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa breaths.
“I’m a nice person,” Iwaizumi says.
“Sometimes,” Oikawa says back, his breath caught in his throat.
Iwaizumi’s still looking at him, and Oikawa’s looking back, and it feels like something’s happening, but Oikawa has no idea what.
And then Iwaizumi’s eyes drift down to Oikawa’s lips, and if Oikawa thought he was imagining it, there’s no imagining the way he leans in. The angle is awkward, but Oikawa leans in to meet him, every inch of his body lit up like a firework, ready to explode at any second.
Iwaizumi’s lips graze his, and before Oikawa can chicken out, he pushes forward, turning a peck into an actual kiss, their lips moving together, needy but gentle.
Oikawa thinks that maybe he’s dreaming, or maybe they were captured by aliens and now their minds are being experimented with, but then Iwaizumi’s pulling away and the reality of the situation hits him.
“I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi breaths, barely audible.
Oikawa tries to remember how to speak, tries to hear his thoughts over the beating of his heart. “It’s okay,” he says, but what he wants to ask is: why are you apologizing?
They fall into an uncomfortable silence, eyes averted, and Oikawa hates it, because this isn’t them. They don’t do uncomfortable silence, but what the hell are you supposed to say after your best friend kisses you and then apologizes for it?
Because—because Oikawa’s pretty sure how they feel is mutual, but there’s that five percent chance that he’s wrong, and if that five percent chance is right, then their whole friendship could fall apart.
So he doesn’t say what he wants to say. He doesn’t take a chance. Instead, he works up the courage to get out, “We should probably head home.”
Iwaizumi nods, but it feels wrong. “Yeah—yeah.”
When they meet up the next morning, Oikawa greets Iwaizumi like everything is normal, because he refuses to let things be weird. It’s gonna take a lot more than one kiss to mess them up.
“Morning, Iwa-chan! You look extra grumpy today.”
Iwaizumi scowls. “And you look extra...ridiculous, Crappykawa.”
Oikawa doesn’t miss the way Iwaizumi fumbles for an insult, eyes drifting over him for a second too long. It does nothing to calm the confused beat of his heart.
Oikawa sighs dramatically. “You’re always such a bully in the morning.”
“Something about your face is always more annoying in the morning,” Iwaizumi tells him, and Oikawa resists the urge to let out an audible sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing, because this is what they do. If Iwaizumi wasn’t insulting him, he’d be a lot more concerned.
“You can’t handle so much beauty this early,” Oikawa retorts, their steps falling in line together.
Maybe Iwaizumi’s in love with him, maybe he’s not. Oikawa tells himself it doesn’t really matter as long as he’s always at his side.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Hanamaki says in disbelief.
“He’s not,” Matsukawa says. “He’s just that much of an idiot.”
“Oh my god,” Hanamaki groans. “Oikawa, he kissed you! He kissed you! What’s so hard to get?”
“Stop making fun of me,” Oikawa whines, flopping down on the couch. They’re at Matsukawa’s house, and Iwaizumi’s not there because it’s thursday, which means he’s tutoring.
The three of them are supposed to be studying, but naturally, the only thing they’re actually studying is how stupid Oikawa can be. The answer: there is no limit to the amount of stupid Oikawa can be.
“Stop being an idiot,” Hanamaki says.
“Stop being a coward,” Matsukawa adds.
“Stop being an idiot coward,” Hanamaki suggests.
“Aren’t you guys supposed to be my friends?!” Oikawa argues, feeling incredibly attacked.
“We are,” Matsukawa says seriously.
“That’s why we’re staging an intervention,” Hanamaki informs.
Oikawa gawks at them. “An intervention?”
Matsukawa and Hanamaki nod in unison. “If we have to watch you two be in love and not do anything about it for any longer it’s going to turn us homophobic,” Matsukawa says.
“You’re literally dating!” Oikawa argues, incredulous. He’s seriously regretting his choice in friends, since all of them seem to derive pleasure from bullying him.
“You can be gay and homophobic,” Hanamaki says, and Oikawa slumps further into the couch in defeat.
“I hate you both,” he sighs, but he doesn’t really mean it.
“We hate you too,” Hanamaki tells him, but he’s smiling, and he doesn’t really mean it, either.
His friends plop down on the couch next to him. “You know he loves you,” Matsukawa says, his tone gentle. “So what’s holding you back?”
“I don’t know,” Oikawa drawls. “It’s like, I know it, but then I doubt it. What if I’m wrong? Or what if I’m right but we still manage to mess everything up?”
“I know how you feel,” Hanamaki tells him, eyes catching Matsukawa’s as he smiles softly. “I was terrified to tell Mattsun, remember?”
Oikawa thinks back to last year, when it was him and Iwaizumi dealing with Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s obvious pining. He supposes that if anyone understands what he’s going through, it’s them.
“I’m an idiot,” Oikawa says, and his friends laugh.
“Yeah,” Matsukawa agrees. “But so is Iwaizumi.”
Oikawa lets his head drop against Matsukawa’s shoulder, sighing loudly. He’s been friends with Iwaizumi since they were kids—what they have can’t be ruined by a confession.
No matter what, they’ll figure it out. They always have. That doesn’t change when they put their feelings out in the open—if anything, that just solidifies it.
“Love is annoying,” Oikawa pouts.
Hanamaki pats Oikawa’s head affectionately. “It’s pretty cool, too.”
Oikawa sticks out his tongue. “Gross.”
Hanamaki flicks the back of his head. “Shut up, Crappykawa.”
Oikawa’s pout deepens. “Only Iwa-chan’s allowed to call me that.”
Matsukawa snorts. “Is that your idea of a pet name?”
“So what if it is?” Oikawa defends, trying to sound annoyed, but the corner of his lip pulls up anyway.
Hanamaki laughs before asking, “What’s your plan?”
“Confess my undying love,” Oikawa says. “Hope he doesn’t reject me.”
Hanamaki rolls his eyes. “He’s not going to reject you, Oikawa.”
Oikawa shrugs against Matsukawa. “Anything is possible.”
They’re sitting on Oikawa’s bed, papers spread out between them. Iwaizumi can’t count the number of times they’ve sat like this—in a calm silence while they both work, occasionally breaking the quiet to ask a question or make a comment.
Iwaizumi loves these nights. It’s easy to call Oikawa an idiot, and as much he loves to, in reality—Oikawa’s one of the smartest people he’s ever met. He also happens to excel at procrastination, which is how their study nights came about. Iwaizumi was sick and tired of watching Oikawa live on 2 hours of sleep a night and caffeine to survive anytime a test came around.
Oikawa hasn’t ditched his bad habits completely, but he’s certainly improved, and Iwaizumi still counts it as a win. Something is better than nothing, especially when it comes to Oikawa.
He looks at his friend now, lip pulling up instinctively. Oikawa’s wearing glasses, his brown hair still ruffled up from their extra practice. He’s staring so intently at his textbook that Iwaizumi wants to laugh, but he doesn’t want to interrupt whatever process is going on in Oikawa’s head, so he stays silent.
This is one of his favorite sides of Oikawa—the engrossed, quiet side. It’s not a side that many others get a chance to see, and something about that sends a flutter through Iwaizumi’s stomach. That’s the thing about Oikawa: there are so many sides to him, but most people only see one or two. Iwaizumi gets them all, and he couldn’t imagine it any other way. That’s how they’ve always been.
“I can feel you staring,” Oikawa says without looking up, and Iwaizumi allows his smile to grow before neutralizing his expression.
“You’ve got something on your face,” Iwaizumi lies, as serious as ever.
Oikawa frowns, looking up. “What is it?”
“Oh wait,” Iwaizumi says. “You’re just ugly. My mista—“
Oikawa hits Iwaizumi with a pillow before he gets a chance to finish his sentence, a laugh escaping his lips as he grabs the pillow and holds it to his chest.
“I couldn’t resist,” Iwaizumi says.
“Bully,” Oikawa pouts.
Iwaizumi shrugs.
“Asshole,” Oikawa says.
“Only to you.”
Oikawa straightens up then, his expression twisting into something genuine—the kind of look he gets when he’s about to say something big.
Iwaizumi’s breath hitches in his chest, because they’re just supposed to be doing homework, not having important conversations.
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, and Iwaizumi hates the way it makes his heart skip a beat.
“Yeah?” Iwaizumi somehow manages to get out.
“I love you,” Oikawa tells him, like it’s as easy as breathing.
Iwaizumi feels his brain shutting down. Oikawa loves him. It’s not like it’s some big revelation, but having the words out in the open, that feels huge.
I love you, too, is what he should say back. Those are the words at the tip of his tongue.
But instead, what comes out is, “That’s a good joke.”
He wants to punch himself in the face when he hears the words escape his mouth. What the hell! Oikawa’s confessing to him, this is really happening, but there’s this stupid little voice in his head that keeps pounding what if what if what if into him and he just—can’t believe what’s right in front of him.
“I…” Oikawa trails off, the hurt evident in his expression.
Iwaizumi wants to say something, anything to make this better, but the words are caught in his throat and all he can do is stare helplessly, his heart an untamed beat in his chest.
“That’s—uh—yeah,” Oikawa says, seeming at a loss for words as well.
Iwaizumi thinks he might be the dumbest person on the planet. First he kisses Oikawa, and then he pulls away, and then he responds with good joke to being told his best friend is in love with him.
His best friend who he’s also in love with.
Who he’s been in love with ever since he knew what love was.
Hanamaki and Matsukawa are going to kill him.
Hanamaki and Matsukawa don’t kill him, but he can tell that they want to.
“What the hell, Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa says in amazement, like he truly can’t believe how his friend is this much of an idiot.
“I’m literally speechless,” Hanamaki says.
“Good joke,” Matsukawa mocks. “What kind of response is that?!”
Iwaizumi flings his arms up in the air helplessly. “I don’t know! I panicked!”
“No shit,” Matsukawa says, sighing heavily as he turns to his boyfriend.
“Makki, what the hell are we going to do with them?”
“We could disown them,” Hanamaki suggests.
“They’d be helpless without us,” Matsukawa says.
“I’m right here,” Iwaizumi points out, and they both glare at him.
“Yeah,” Matsukawa draws. “That’s the problem. You know where you should be right now? With Oikawa! Doing dumb couple shit! But nope—the guy you’re in love with tells you he’s in love with you and you have to go and tell him that’s a good joke!”
Iwaizumi’s cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “I know,” Iwaizumi says. “I’m an idiot. What do I do now?”
“Well, you can’t go back in time, unfortunately.” Hanamaki says. “So I guess all you can do is change your name and move to another country.”
Iwaizumi glares at him.
“You got yourself into this mess!” Hanamaki defends, shaking his head. “What kind of friend would I be if I solved all your problems for you?”
Iwaizumi rolls his eyes in amusement before his face falls. “I really messed up, didn’t I?”
Matsukawa and Hanamaki share another look before turning back to him, eyes softened. “It’s nothing you can’t fix,” Matsukawa says.
“It would take a lot more than you being stupid to ruin what you and Oikawa have,” Hanamaki adds.
Iwaizumi nods to himself, his thoughts dragging him away. He really only has one option—he has to confess to Oikawa.
“So what happened after you said ‘good joke’?” Matsukawa asks, pulling Iwaizumi from his mind.
Iwaizumi looks down, avoiding eye contact. “I asked him how his homework was going…”
“You—oh my god,” Matsukawa says in disbelief, and Iwaizumi shrinks into himself at the memory.
“What did he say to that?” Hanamaki asks through a laugh.
“He said it was going fine, and then we didn’t talk for an hour, and then we had dinner with his parents and I stayed the night.”
His friends stare at him, unblinking, mouths hanging open in wonder. Matsukswa is the first to recover.
“You stayed the night.”
“Yeah.”
“I—did you sleep in the same bed?”
Iwaizumi nods. They used to go through the trouble of pulling out a futon, but one night Oikawa complained about being too tired, why can’t Iwaizumi just share the bed with him, and ever since then, that’s what they’ve done.
“Wasn’t it, like, awkward as hell?” Matsukawa asks, trying to wrap his head around the idea of them sharing a bed after a confession gone wrong.
“Well, yeah,” Iwaizumi says, “but I felt like it’d be more awkward if I left. And everything was fine when we woke up, so…”
Matsukawa shakes his head. “I’m not even gonna question it.”
The next day, Oikawa stays late after practice. Iwaizumi stays with him, curled up in the corner of the gym studying. At least, that’s what he’s trying to do, but he’s spending more time watching Oikawa than he is getting any work done.
Something’s wrong, Iwaizumi can tell—he can always tell. Oikawa puts up a good front, but Iwaizumi knows him too well for that shit to work on him. He has the meaning of Oikawa’s smiles memorized—can tell the difference between forced happiness and genuine happiness in his sleep.
Oikawa might not be an easy book to read, but Iwaizumi’s read him so many times that he can cite the whole damn thing from memory. He used to think that’s just how friends were, but eventually he realized—that’s just how they were.
An hour passes, and Iwaizumi doesn’t have it in him to watch Oikawa push himself any longer. “Hey, Shittykawa,” he calls, grabbing Oikawa’s attention. “That’s enough. Let’s go home.”
Oikawa’s home, Iwaizumi’s home—wherever they end up, it’s home for both of them.
Oikawa plasters a smile to his face, and Iwaizumi’s mind screams fake, fake, fake. “Thirty more minutes, Iwa-chan.”
“No,” Iwaizumi says, because this is what Oikawa always does, and thirty minutes is never thirty minutes.
Oikawa frowns. “Fine. Twenty.”
“Five,” Iwaizumi says.
Oikawa stares at him, like he’s trying to decide if he wants to argue or not. After a moment, his shoulders slump and he gives in, the exhaustion evident on his face. “Fine.”
Iwaizumi spends the next five minutes packing up his bag as he watches Oikawa, wishing his stupid best friend knew how to take care of himself. It’s not that Iwaizumi minds looking after him, but there’s only so much Oikawa induced stress that Iwaizumi can take.
Fortunately, when Oikawa’s five minutes are up, he doesn’t put up a fight. Iwaizumi pulls himself from the ground, meeting Oikawa at the net. “You look tired,” he says.
“I’m fine, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says back, but his eyes are deceiving him.
Iwaizumi puts his hands on the volleyball that Oikawa’s holding, forcing their gazes to meet. “Oikawa,” he tries again, gentle.
Oikawa’s entire body freezes, his eyes locked on Iwaizumi’s.
“What’s wrong?” Iwaizumi asks.
Oikawa is silent for a moment, and Iwaizumi almost thinks Oikawa’s going to dodge the question, but then he’s saying, “I don’t want to lose.”
“Wha—is that what you’re worried about?”
Oikawa bites down on his lip, glancing down at the floor before returning his gaze to Iwaizumi.
“Our next game—” Iwaizumi starts to say, but Oikawa cuts him off.
“I’m not afraid of losing our next game,” Oikawa says. “I’m afraid of losing nationals—that no matter how much work I put in, it won’t be enough. I’m afraid of losing...you.”
Iwaizumi’s heart stops in his chest, his mouth falling open slightly as he tries to find the words to say. In the end, all that comes out is, “...Me?”
“You’re so dense, Iwa-chan.”
Something about the insult snaps Iwaizumi back into reality. “I’m not that dense,” Iwaizumi defends, and Oikawa opens his mouth to object, but Iwaizumi cuts him off. “You’re not going to lose me.” Iwaizumi moves his fingers on the volleyball ever so slightly, so that they brush against Oikawa’s. “No matter what happens at nationals, you’ll always have me. Because—”
Iwaizumi’s heart knocks loudly at his chest, and Oikawa’s looking at him with wide eyes, like he knows exactly what Iwaizumi’s about to say.
“Because I love you, too,” Iwaizumi breaths, and it feels like a weight off his chest.
Oikawa stares at him for a second longer before he pushes the volleyball forward, jabbing it into Iwaizumi’s stomach. “What the hell, you asshole!” Oikawa huffs, but he’s holding back a smile, and Iwaizumi finds himself grinning before he can help it because he loves Oikawa, has always loved him, and Oikawa loves him, too.
“You love me,” Oikawa says.
“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says.
“I knew it,” Oikawa tells him, leaning in.
“No you didn’t,” Iwaizumi tries to say, but it comes out like a whisper, and he knows it isn’t true even as he says it. Oikawa’s perceptive—of course he knew. He probably knew before Iwaizumi did.
“I did,” Oikawa mumbles against Iwaizumi’s lips, closing the gap between them.
Kissing Oikawa feels a lot like coming home, and Iwaizumi thinks, their story is one that’s still being written.