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It starts like this.
“You know,” Matsukawa announces casually, words carrying no weight as if oblivious to the chaos that comes next.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been to Disneyland before.”
And Iwaizumi sighs.
It ends like this, too.
So it goes.
––––
Generally, Iwaizumi likes driving.
It’s easy, and it’s fun, and he’s dealt with enough Oikawa in the shotgun seat on the daily that he thinks he’s pretty impervious to most distractions. Not a lot of his fellow third years have a car yet –– he’s one of the lucky ones, no matter how much of a “crapmobile” Oikawa calls it –– and with the patience it takes to simply coexist around both road rage and his boyfriend, Iwaizumi is fairly certain he can handle pretty much anything.
Iwaizumi is also dead wrong, obviously, because he has never driven a car with Oikawa and Hanamaki and Matsukawa all at the same time, at 6 in the goddamn morning, and holy shit it’s worse than he ever could’ve imagined.
He thinks it’s manageable at first; four hours to Tokyo Bay isn’t the longest he’s had to deal with their asses, not by far. But within thirty minutes Hanamaki has monopolized the auxiliary cord to blast the same five trap songs that go from bad to garbage fire; by the two hour mark Matsukawa has asked to pee a solid eight times; and the whole way through Oikawa is Oikawa, which is a problem all on its own.
(Iwaizumi likes to think he’s a good person; sure, he rough houses Oikawa sometimes, but when one’s spent his whole life with the other it’s inevitable.
He ponders, throughout the drive, what he’d ever done to deserve this.)
“Hajime.” Matsukawa’s voice permeates through some song about a girl, and a club, and something else incredibly lewd. “I need to pee again.”
(He ponders, throughout the drive, what anyone could’ve ever done to deserve this.)
“Mattsun~!” Oikawa clicks his tongue disapprovingly before Iwaizumi can get through opening his mouth, so the driver clenches his jaw tighter instead. “You just went ten minutes ago –– and besides! We’re almost there, aren’t we, Iwa-chan?”
“God, I hope so.” Iwaizumi prays aloud.
(It turns out, thanks to Waze and not at all to Oikawa’s sense of direction, they are, in fact, closer than they think, and Iwaizumi remembers to go to church next week.
They still end up stopping for Mattsun, though.)
––––
There is a pregnant pause –– so uncharacteristically silent, and heavy, it looms over the car and all its inhabitants; Iwaizumi could almost cry in relief.
And then.
“Is it that tree?” Oikawa pipes up.
“No.”
“How about that one?” Mattsun offers helpfully.
“No.” Makki’s smug tone only elicits further sighs of aggravation, of which Hajime’s is the loudest.
“You cannot play ‘I Spy,’” the spiker begins, with the last of his patience trickling away, slowly, slowly . “and say ‘something green’ when we are surrounded by the most trees I have ever seen in my life .”
Hanamaki snorts out, “There’s no need to be a sore loser.” as if Hajime’s exasperation is fueled by a game suggested to pass the time, and not because he has been stuck in the car for hours with three man-children who just so happen to also be his best friends. “But anyway, you’re all thinking too simple-mindedly ; I expected better from you.”
Oikawa looks personally offended; eyes narrow ever so slightly, like Makki’s words actually get under his skin (knowing Oikawa, they definitely did).
Then he snaps his fingers, grin victorious. Iwaizumi braces himself.
“It’s that tree, then!”
“No.”
Suddenly, Iwaizumi is very fond of Makki’s stupid games.
(It turns out ‘something green’ is Mattsun’s knapsack. Oikawa cries rematch.)
––––
This is gas station number nine; this is Matsukawa’s bathroom break number nine. In the driver’s seat, Hajime is on coffee number five.
“You’ll go tense sitting like that, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa tuts, to which Hajime responds with a weary, knowing gaze, and “You think I’m not already?”
They share a smile –– one so subtle no one else could’ve caught it the way each other had –– and Oikawa shifts, hands immediately flying to the back of his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Here.”
And Hajime sighs, content in the way Oikawa’s hands can skim across his back and ease the tension that threatens to spill over. “You’re a lot better at that than I thought you’d be.”
“First of all, rude , I’m good at several things. And secondly, that’s because you never let anyone take care of you.” And as Iwaizumi frowns and opens his mouth to retort, Tooru adds sudden pressure to his shoulders, reducing words to a rough groan before Iwaizumi can even attempt to interrupt.
“You’re always used to looking after everyone, Iwa-chan; I guess that might kind of be my fault.” There’s a ruefulness Hajime catches in Oikawa’s tone, but the weight of his words implies he’s not looking for an argument yet –– so he remains silent, save the soft sighs that fall occasionally when Oikawa’s hands hit a sweet spot. “... It’s about time you let some people look after you, too.”
Hajime allows the silence to pass between them for a while longer, Tooru’s words looping over and over in his mind; he’s not used to being the one scolded over not looking after himself, and there’s a mix of embarrassment and gentleness that adorns expression now, pink tingeing the corner of his ears in a flush reserved for Oikawa and Oikawa alone.
“In case you forgot … I like that you’re my headache, dumbass.” Hajime says once Tooru’s hands fall back to his lap, adding, “Just don’t steal my line.”
And the initial indignation on the other’s face is all but wiped off once Iwaizumi presses his lips to his, soft and gentle before it very –– very –– quickly turns into something more. Oikawa responds with impressive vigor as he surges forward, licking his way into Iwaizumi’s mouth and letting out a sigh of contentment as Iwaizumi tightens his grip around his waist.
“Hey.”
And Iwaizumi’s eyes widen. No .
No, God, please, no .
“Maybe, like, please don’t fuck while I’m buying shit at the convenience store.”
Having not noticed Hanamaki come in with bags and bags of road trip snacks in tow, Hajime wants to die.
Judging by the stunned look on Oikawa’s face, the feeling is mutual.
“Here.” Makki shoves the bag towards the boy in the shotgun seat, as if completely indifferent to the way he’d just caught two of his best friends sucking face. Oikawa nearly misses the bag, still undoubtedly red in the face. “There’s some milk bread, onigiri, those rice crackers Iwaizumi likes; take your pick.”
The couple mutters a quick and barely audible “thank you,” and Makki smirks, and Iwaizumi is ready to wipe that expression clean off, too –– just in a different manner.
“Where’s–– what’s taking Mattsun so long, anyway?” Oikawa finally manages to get out, and Iwaizumi is all too relieved for the change in subject (even if, technically, it hadn’t even been brought up); there’s an even bigger sigh of relief that leaves his lungs when he spots the boy in question sprinting towards them.
Wait. Sprinting …
When Iwaizumi hears Mattsun’s helpless “Start the fucking car!” and can only imagine the several unkind things the boy could’ve done to that poor gas station restroom, he wants to die for a whole other different reason entirely.
––––
It comes up, of course, after a while.
“So, you guys are together together now, huh?” Hanamaki piques curiosity; even he’s gotten over his own playlist a few hours later, and has now chosen to focus on other things to pass the time –– currently in the spotlight, it appears, is their burgeoning relationship. “What’s that like?”
“Hell.” is Iwaizumi’s response without skipping a beat, and there’s a quick satisfied smirk that flashes on his features when Oikawa squawks all chicken-like and Makki hoots in laughter.
Then Oikawa pouts out “I thought he would be nicer to me now that he’s getting dicked down,” and suddenly Hajime is the one red in the face when he retorts with a quick smack to Tooru’s stomach. “I will throw you out of this car.”
“You guys are hilarious.” Mattsun grins, like he’s playing the role of live audience to his favorite sitcom, and Iwaizumi makes the mental note to throw him out next. “I mean, we all thought it was already happening , you know, dicking down and all.” (Iwaizumi glares at Oikawa again, who only throws up another peace sign.) “But you two seem happier now. In your own weird, Tooru-Hajime way.”
And Hajime can’t say much else, but the smile that teases the corners of his mouth and the way his fingers intertwine with Oikawa’s are enough to tell Mattsun he agrees.
––––
Thirty minutes before reaching Tokyo Bay, Hanamaki and Matsukawa fall asleep in the backseat, limbs so tangled up together one can’t tell where Makki ends, where Mattsun begins. The floor is a mix of onigiri wrappers and food crumbs Hajime is intent on making them clean up later.
Beside him, Oikawa’s leaning up against the window, eyes fluttered shut in a slumber he’d tried his hardest to fight off to keep Iwaizumi company. Hajime doesn’t mind, though; Oikawa’s smile is always more relaxed when he sleeps, more genuine, and while he never knows fully what he dreams about, the hand that grasps his tightly is indication enough.
The sun’s barely at the highest point in the sky when he rounds the corner on the happiest place on earth, and Iwaizumi sighs in the quiet, tired eyes looking back on the others with the hint of a smile.
Oikawa’s right: maybe he doesn’t always have to look after everyone all the time.
With these three, though, he’s never really minded.