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Matsukawa and Hanamaki are familiar with familiarity. They share jokes and food and clothes, practically share a brain, and they are not shy about pushing the boundaries of physical intimacy with one another to get reactions out of those in company with them. In fact, if people didn’t know them, they would almost certainly be mistaken for a couple. Had, on several occasions, and maybe to some extent they were, but that isn’t what was important. The grand joke of it all, the joke to start and end all jokes, is that they had begun their years-long friendship by mocking the relationship of one Iwaizumi Hajime and one Oikawa Tooru.
The former of whom opens the door of their shared apartment after Hanamaki knocks an obnoxious rhythm. “Must you do that every time?” he asks, the grin on his face betraying his annoyed tone.
“How else would you know it was us?”
“Really Iwaizumi, you should be more wary of strangers.”
“Strange neighbors.”
“Burglars.”
“Cat burglars.”
“Insufferable old friends?” Iwaizumi interrupts with something closer to a scowl than his initial greeting.
“Ah, there he is!” Hanamaki winks at him as he pushes past Iwaizumi into the small apartment. Matsukawa clasps a hand to his shoulder and nods.
They take off their shoes and drop their bags by the coffee table. After a cursory survey, it becomes very evident that they are short one of their number, despite the overwhelming evidence of his presence present on every surface, in every nook and cranny. Photos line the walls in immaculate arrangement alongside awards and graduation certificates. No one but Oikawa would have furnished such a homely place with such a garish couch, but for what it lacked in pleasing aesthetics it more than made up for in plush comfort.
“Where’s our beloved captain?” Makki asks. It’s been months since they all graduated and became university students, but they won’t stop calling him that until they die.
Iwaizumi drops onto the floor opposite them, his own books already opened on the table. “He had a late class. He was swinging by the store on his way back. Shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“Well,” huffs Makki. “At least we’ll have some peace and quiet for studying.”
“Please. Like you’re any quieter,” Mattsun shoves his shoulder.
“I’ll have you know I only disrupted my Classic Lit class twice today, and both times it was entirely warranted.”
“Heh. Lit.”
“I know, right?”
Iwaizumi shakes his head as they pull out their own texts and notebooks. Usually they would all meet up at the library or campus café and be subject to any number of distractions (read: Oikawa fangirls) as they tried to squeeze in a couple hours of studying. Four weeks into the semester and Oikawa had finally had the bright idea to have Matsukawa and Hanamaki come to their place for their weekly study sesh. Iwaizumi had seemed reluctant, but their old friends were fairly certain that had more to do with the fact that Oikawa was badgering him into cooking for everyone than having no desire to bring Mattsun and Makki into their home. After all, this was hardly their first time in the off-campus apartment.
Despite Matsukawa’s jibes, Hanamaki did settle in to work quietly. It was a solid twenty minutes of calm before the tornado named Oikawa Tooru tore through the front door.
“I’m home!” His greeting is drowned out by a collective sigh as the peace is broken. “Rude,” he pouts. “And after I went to the trouble of stocking up on study fuel on my way home.”
“Oikawa, please tell me those bags are not full of milk bread.”
“They were on sale Iwa-chan. How could I not buy extra?”
Matsukawa and Hanamaki glance at each other wearing similar smirks.
The last player has arrived.
The show has finally begun.
Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Well don’t come whining to me when the dentist tells you your teeth are rotting next week.”
Oikawa flinches at the reminder. He sets the bags on the counter and starts putting groceries—there are vegetables and meat in addition to the four loaves of milk bread—away. “Maybe she’ll forget I’m scheduled,” he grumbles.
“The office already called to confirm. You’re going.” Makki stifles a snicker as Oikawa sticks his tongue petulantly out at the back of Iwaizumi’s head. The former spiker gives them a flat stare. Mattsun nods consolingly. Iwa knows, of course. He always knows what face Oikawa is making without having to look at him.
They go back to their studying as Oikawa disappears into the back of the apartment. There are muffled sounds from one of the bedrooms as he strips out of his fashionable class outfit into the loungewear he prefers at home. The beep of the washing machine turning on follows shortly after.
Iwa holds his hand up with three fingers extended. Mattsun and Makki tilt their heads at the gesture. He doesn’t lift his head as he drops one finger at a time. On the third beat, he points vaguely towards the hall at the same second Oikawa’s voice rings down it. “Hey, Iwa-chan? Did we get new detergent?”
“Yes, dumbass.” An indignant squawk. “The other crap was making you break out in hives so I threw it out. That new stuff is supposed to be less irritable on sensitive skin.”
“My skin is not that sensitive.” Oikawa stands at the end of the hallway, just at the border where it meets the kitchen, slightly ruddy arms folded across his chest.
“Then I guess you don’t need all those fancy moisturizers and cleansers you use on your face every night.”
A huff. “Just because I take care of my skin, does not mean it’s sensitive.” He ducks into the pantry and digs out several bags of chips and candied chocolates.
Mattsun and Makki pounce on those before Iwaizumi can object.
“Sweet!”
“Thanks cap’n.”
Oikawa bows with a flourish. “Anything for my loyal subjects.”
“If his Royal Highness is done being a royal pain, maybe he’d like to finally join us in doing homework?” Iwaizumi sends a loathsome glower at his roommate.
Makki tosses a chocolate in his mouth as he sends Mattsun a knowing look.
“So impatient, Iwa-chan.”
Mattsun leans towards Makki without looking at him, catching a tossed chocolate in his mouth as Oikawa digs a novel and a notebook out of his messenger bag and plops himself down at Iwaizumi’s side. It’s the same essay Makki is working on and they commiserate over the vagueness of the topic before falling into comfortable silence once more.
Occasionally the silence is broken by someone asking to pass a snack or to check a problem. Oikawa snorts at something in the novel and Makki grins knowingly. Pens and pencils scratch at paper, pages turn, and old friends munch on chips and chocolate.
A familiar scene plays out in front of Makki and Mattsun partway through the session. They both pause in their respective studies to focus on a far more entertaining study.
On the other side of the low table buried underneath pages of scribbled notes and heavy textbooks, Iwaizumi sits hunched over his biology lab, a remarkable scowl on his face as he concentrates on the words on the paper in front of him. He leans to the side to eat a chip that appears in front of him. Oikawa leans his back against his side, and his hand returns to the bag of chips as his eyes skim over the yellowed pages of the novel in his hand. The next chip he eats himself, but when he repeats the motion, it is once again offered to Iwaizumi.
Matsukawa smirks at Hanamaki. Hanamaki smirks at Matsukawa.
Disgusting.
Don’t even realize how they look to other people.
They share a silent laugh that goes unnoticed by the other pair before returning to more academic studies.
An hour later, an alarm goes off on Iwaizumi’s phone and he gets to his feet with a groaning stretch. Oikawa whines as he falls to the floor where he’d been leaning against his best friend. Iwaizumi leans down and flicks his forehead. “If you want to eat some time tonight, then I’ve got to start prepping dinner.”
Oikawa scrambles to his feet, following along like a chick following a mother hen. “Oh! I’ll help!”
“Nuh-uh,” Iwaizumi spins at the doorway to the kitchen, placing a firm hand on the taller boy’s chest, blocking him out. “You are not allowed within ten feet of the stove after last week’s fiasco.”
“That wasn’t my fault,” Oikawa whines. “I wanna help!”
“Then clean up the living room. It’s not a complicated recipe. It won’t take that long.” He tips his head towards Mattsun and Makki. “Be a good host and entertain our guests.”
The pair flash similar predatory smiles.
“Yeah Oikawa!”
“Entertain us!”
Oikawa suddenly looks like he’d rather be doing anything else.
And he says we’re rude.
Where is the trust?
Despite their teasing, they help Oikawa tidy up the table and make room for their dinner. True to his word, Iwaizumi emerges from the kitchen twenty minutes later to announce that dinner is ready. They fill their bowls full of rice and chicken and vegetables and resume their spots on the floor at the large coffee table. Oikawa and Iwaizumi settle onto the couch, offering to make room for the other two in case the extra cushions weren’t sufficient. They decline, claiming their bodies have already fused to the floor and they couldn’t possibly sit in such luxury. Just between them, though, they aren’t going to miss any opportunities to observe the two pining idiots up close and personal. They are rewarded for their persistence when the conversation shifts.
“Oh, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa swallows hard as he struggles to voice the urgent thought that apparently just occurred to him. “Auntie called this morning. You’re really a terrible son, you know, never answering her calls.” He ducks as Iwaizumi reaches to flick his forehead. “Don’t worry, don’t worry! I assured her you were just very busy and I would relay the message.”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi’s glower could sharpen blades on a good day, but there was none of the usual heat in his rebuke.
Oikawa shrugs. “Slipped my mind. At least she knows she can always get ahold of you even when you’re being rude and avoiding her.” He yelps as Iwaizumi throws a pillow at him, knocking his chopsticks from his hand. They clatter to the ancient carpet. Oikawa looks at the fallen utensils as if he was told his grandmother just died. “Mean, Iwa-chan! Do you know how dirty that floor is?”
Matsukawa and Hanamaki shift awkwardly.
And we’ve been sitting on it all night?
“Oh don’t be such a drama queen. I vacuumed this afternoon.”
Bless you, vice-captain. Thank god one of you has an ounce of domesticity.
Oikawa pouts, staring forlornly at his bowl. “You could just get another set from the kitchen.” When he doesn’t move, Iwaizumi plucks a piece of chicken out of his own bowl and offers it to Oikawa with a sigh.
Wait.
Are they serious?
Like a switch is flipped, Oikawa’s eyes light up and he leans forward to accept the bite, all traces of his momentary solemnity evaporated into thin air. He hums in glee as Iwaizumi feeds him another piece.
Hanamaki and Matsukawa lose it.
Oikawa and Iwaizumi freeze at their laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Oikawa’s face is a brilliant shade of crimson. Iwaizumi’s ears are getting there.
Mattsun scoops up a helping and extends it to Makki. “Eat up, babe.”
“Yes, dear!” He wastes no time in devouring the food from Mattsun’s chopsticks with an exaggerated flutter of eyelashes. They fall back against each other in another fit of giggles as Iwaizumi and Oikawa pointedly avoid looking at them or each other.
“Seriously,” Mattsun fixes the pair with a piercing stare. “Could you two be any more married?”
If they thought their former captain’s face was red before, it went positively scarlet now. Oikawa collects his fallen chopsticks and returns them to the kitchen to wash them. Iwaizumi hides his face in his hands. Mattsun and Makki erupt in more howls.
“You make a great wife, Iwaizumi.”
“Mattsun, I will kill you.”
“Oh don’t do that! Who will be my wife, then?”
“You can join him, Makki.”
Oikawa returns to his seat on the far end of the couch, purposefully leaving a full cushion between him and Iwaizumi now.
Aw, we hit a nerve.
Just when it was getting good.
They finish dinner and offer to do the dishes as apology.
“So you can go through my cupboards and rearrange my mugs again? Thanks, but no thanks.”
That had been funny. They had convinced Iwaizumi that Oikawa had done it when they were all smashed after a night of debauchery. They’re still not sure how he’d uncovered the truth, and he may have been bluffing anyway, but they’d come clean about it a week later.
“Such little faith.”
“And here I thought we were friends.”
“I regret ever inviting you guys over for dinner,” Oikawa sulks, leaning against the arm of the couch.
“I don’t,” Mattsun grins lazily, leaning back and rubbing his stomach. “That was delicious.”
“Yeah it was,” Makki says. “Can we stay forever? Move in? Become your adopted children?”
“Nope,” Iwaizumi grunts the same time Oikawa huffs “Not a chance.”
They shrug in unison. It was worth a shot. Besides, they know their friends will invite them back.
What would they do without us?
They would be bored to death.
What they say aloud is:
“Whatever. I’d never call you “dad” anyway.”
“You can call me “daddy” anytime, though.” Makki winks as Mattsun blows him a kiss.
“O~kay, this has been an enlightening evening,” Iwaizumi slaps his hands on his thighs as he stands. “So glad you guys could drop by. I hope you actually got some studying done.”
Matsukawa and Hanamaki glance at each other and nod.
“I’d say we got plenty of new material memorized.”
“Can’t wait to put it into practice.”
They flash their teeth when they grin, and Oikawa and Iwaizumi actually flinch.
They pack their things and thank their hosts for a lovely evening. They leave with promises for next time (they’ll host and let their friends try to get back at them as best as they can even though it’d be an effort in futility; Mattsun and Makki have long since left shame and dignity in the dust) and plans for coffee after a shared class.
When they’ve left the building, Mattsun asks “So when do you think they’ll figure it out?”
Makki laughs. “If they haven’t figured it out by now, they never will.”
“That bit with the feeding was brilliant, by the way.”
“’Yes dear’? You really laid that one on thick.”
“Please, you loved it.”
“Mmm.”
Hanamaki and Matsukawa could parody Iwaizumi and Oikawa all day long, but the punchline was that their friend’s relationship wasn’t the only one left unresolved. They would see it through to the end, though. They had to have the last laugh. It was a grand joke.
~*~
Oikawa helps Iwaizumi tidy up the kitchen after their friends have left. He’s been quiet since Mattsun made that “married” comment and Iwa calls him out on it. “Are we that obvious?” he sighs, leaning against the counter and tipping his head back against the cabinets.
Iwaizumi chuckles and slinks his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “We’ve always been obvious. That’s why they’ll never figure it out.”
Oikawa pulls his head back and looks down his nose at Iwaizumi, brows furrowed. “How do you figure?”
“To them, nothing has changed.” He shrugs. “At this point the only way they’d figure it out is if you accidentally kiss me in front of them.”
Oikawa tightens his grip on Iwaizumi’s arms on his waist. “Who says I’d be the one to slip? We both know you find me just as irresistible.”
“Nope. Not in a million years.”
“Iwa-chan.” Iwaizumi laughs as he peppers Oikawa’s face with kisses in apology. His boyfriend crumples under his loving assault and descends into a fit of giggles until they’re both breathless and warm. Oikawa sighs. “How much longer do we have to play this game?”
“Sawamura and Suga made it 7 months and 19 days before their friends figured out they were dating.”
Oikawa’s lips scrunch as he does some quick math. “Three more weeks then.” Iwa nods. “I can’t believe you and Daichan made a bet on this,” he sighs again, “but ¥5000 is ¥5000.”
“I’ll treat you to dinner when we win,” Iwa grins.
“I’d best be on my best behavior then.”
Three weeks later, they finally have a public date free of pretexts.