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Oikawa Tooru has a way of finding trouble.
It’s not that he necessarily goes out to look for it, but more so that trouble presents itself as a shiny, tempting package that Oikawa just has to take. And this time, trouble approached him in the form of a horse. A majestic, valiant steed that gazed at him with those big, intense eyes that seemed to bore into his very soul. Even if it was a Shiratorizawa horse. Oikawa sniffs. The thought left a bad taste in his mouth.
The Miyagi High School Reunion was the perfect chance for the setter to make up an excuse and visit Japan again, this time staying for the entirety of the summer before inevitably returning to Argentina. Sure, it was at Shiratorizawa Academy—because they had the largest campus—but Oikawa was not one to whine over minor details, not when the school had horses and good food.
The setter also likes to think that he’s kept his charm over all these years, which is proven true when a young high school student lets Oikawa climb onto her horse. He didn’t know the first thing about horseback riding, but it couldn’t be that hard, he’s watched plenty of movies. Getting onto the large animal was easy enough, but precariously perched on top of it, Oikawa is started to have second thoughts.
He can’t remember why he decided to do this. When he first made eye contact with the stallion, it looked like it was challenging him. It had a serious face—so familiar—and looked down its nose at him, confident and haughty—also familiar. It made Oikawa’s blood simmer beneath his skin.
Panic crawls its way up his throat as the stallion starts to huff, pawing at the ground restlessly.
“Um, excuse me,” Oikawa asks, tenaciously gripping at the reins, “is this supposed to happen?”
The girl gazes at her horse nervously. “Ah, I think you may be agitating it, Oikawa-san.” The young student looks up at him from the ground, her flushed face hidden behind her dark bangs.
“But I’m not doing anytHIN—” Oikawa’s sentence is abruptly punched from his throat as the horse starts to move forward, his body jostled at the sudden movement.
Oikawa looks down at the horse, then over his shoulder at the aghast girl, and finally darts his eyes outside the enclosure. The paddock is empty of any other riders, and beyond the fenced area, he can recognize a few other volleyball players mingling amongst themselves, unaware of the setter’s dilemma. Iwaizumi had gone to get drinks a few minutes ago, so he should be back soon. He had to be back soon.
“Oikawa-san! Please stop!” The young girl yells, trying to follow a cautious distance away from the horse’s backside.
“I don’t know how!” He shouts back. The black and white horse neighs loudly, garnering the attention of the reunion attendees. The cow-looking horse picks up its pace and the setter yelps. At this point, his whole body is being thrown up and down as this stupid animal canters around in circles around the ring, hoof steps furiously beating at the ground.
This is how I die, Oikawa bemoans to himself as his butt drops back down painfully. The impact causing his throat to close. A sudden shout awakens him from his misery.
“Shittykawa! You stupid bastard!” Iwaizumi grabs onto the fencing, drinks forgotten on the floor as he watches his best friend get bucked around like a rag doll. A pretty sizeable crowd has gathered around him to watch the spectacle.
“Iwa-chan! HELP ME!” The horse whinnies, rearing back on its hind legs and beating its legs into the air. Oikawa screeches, grabbing onto the reins for dear life as he clenches his thighs around the angry animal.
The young girl from before is staring at him in fear, tears prickling at the corner of her big eyes. Oikawa feels guilt settle in his gut until he hears Matsukawa and Hanamaki laughing at him; the guilt is replaced by hot-white embarrassment.
“GET OFF THE HORSE!” Iwaizumi yells at him.
“I CAN’T!”
Matsukawa grins from behind his phone, “Get off your high horse, Oikawa-sama~.”
The setter would flip him off if he weren’t fighting for his life right now, knuckles white with tension and whole body rattled at the force of the horse’s bucking. The world turns blurry with every jarring movement and Oikawa buries his face into the horse’s mane to keep his lunch down.
And then suddenly, peace.
The horse stands to a halt, knocking him forward. A few seconds pass as it doesn’t move, only breathing heavily. A sense of relief rushes through his veins and Oikawa lets himself relax, briefly leaning backward. “Good horsey, good horsey.” He pats the horse’s side affectionately, the sturdy muscle beneath his fingers tense. “You’re a lot cuter when you’re calm, like this, yeah?”
Understandably, the stallion doesn’t respond. Oikawa grins and adjusts his grip on the reins. He kind of feels like a horse wrangler; taming a wild horse with unprecedented speed and elegance. Looking up, he notices the crowd staring at him either in awe, fear, or mirth. He combs through the people until he pinpoints Iwaizumi, the athletic trainer standing at the front along with a shellshocked Kageyama and a cheering Hinata. Trying to regain his cool, Oikawa runs a hand through his sweaty hair.
“Whew, that was a close one, wasn’t it Iwa-cha—”
His world is thrown into chaos again as the horse bucks like a rodeo, neighing and snorting furiously as if Oikawa had insulted its mother. His life flashes before his eyes as he screams again, pushing down on the stirrups to keep himself grounded. The setter considers his options.
One, he could hope to keep onto the horse until it calms down or a trained equestrian comes to save him. Oikawa shakily opens one eye and then shuts it tight again after feeling vomit dance up his esophagus. Okay, waiting would take too long.
Two, try to calm the horse down with his endless charm and people skills. It probably extends to animals as well, right? Tentatively, he gives an experimental tug at the reins and yelps when the horse pulls against him. This horse was a brat, so that was a no.
Three, Oikawa could jump into the arms of someone who wouldn’t die upon impact. Braving a quick glance at the spectators, he mentally tries to guess their heights in his head. Now, the problem was that Oikawa was no small man, standing at six feet with plenty of lean muscle corded on his body. Why were people in Japan so short? He thinks. If he were in Argentina, height wouldn’t be a problem.
“I’m gonna jump!” The setter announces loudly.
“What! You’re insane!” The athletic trainer shouts back. “You’ll die!”
“Then catch me!”
“Then, I’ll die!” Iwaizumi, glad for once that he’s shorter than Oikawa, remarks.
The brunet scans the crowd again and makes eye contact with his little protégé. “Tobio-chan!” The name comes out garbled as the animal beneath him bucks up again, kicking its legs spastically. Oikawa grimaces at the burning of his thighs as he clenches tightly. That’s definitely going to bruise.
Kageyama shakes his head furiously, so fast that his head might fall off. Traitor, Oikawa curses as he moves on to his next victim. Tsukishima, already caught onto his plan, slinks further back into the crowd. Karasuno people are so mean! Oikawa scowls.
He sends a pleading look to Iwaizumi, hoping that his message will come across. Find someone who’s taller than me. Please. Iwaizumi nods and determinedly pushes his way through the people and into the main building behind them.
Oikawa feels his arms ache as he waits for the athletic trainer to return, hopefully with someone strong and tall. Maybe that giant from Date Tech, or maybe even magically teleport Kindaichi here, who couldn’t make it because of work. Anyone would be good right now. Anyone.
“I heard a princess is in need of saving~!” An annoying voice calls to him.
Maybe not anyone.
Oikawa jerks his head towards the sound and feels his stomach drop when he’s greeted with the sight of a redhead pummeling through the crowd. Tendou is tall, Oikawa gulps, but he’s kind of skinny… He might flatten the redhead. The setter sighs, it was better than nothing.
“Tendou-kun,” he begs, “help me!”
The chocolatier shakes his head. “Nope! I would be crushed!” Then, grinning mischievously, he ushers the person behind him forward, “You need a tall, strong, handsome prince to save you!”
And there, in all of his glory, Ushijima Wakatoshi stares at him, face blank of emotion besides the slight crease between his eyebrows. Oikawa rakes his eyes up and down the spiker’s form. Begrudgingly, he has to admit that Ushijima is tall and strong. Tan and muscled limbs paired with a broad chest and shoulders. Oikawa swallows. The spiker’s biceps bulge under his collared shirt as he jumps over the fence towards the setter.
“Jump, I will catch you.”
The horse bucks again, and Oikawa stifles the squeak in his throat as he leans forward, holding onto the saddle tenaciously. He turns his head just enough to glare at the other man.
“I don’t need your help!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll injure yourself.” Ushijima states simply. The top of the spiker’s head only comes up to the middle of the horse’s neck, reminding Oikawa of how stupidly dangerous this animal was. He gulps and reconsiders.
“You’ll catch me?” He shouts over the sound of the horse, adjusting his hold on the saddle.
The spiker opens his arms as if preparing for a stiff, awkward hug. “Jump.”
Oikawa prays mentally, hopes that no one is recording, throwing caution to the wind, and jumps.
He releases his iron grip and lets the horse buck him off, pushing against the stirrups and into Ushijima’s arms. The spiker grunts as the setter barrels into his chest, knocking both of them over into the disgusting dirt below them. Oikawa falls closer to the ground, his shoulders hitting the floor violently.
The world is silent for a few seconds, or Oikawa has gone deaf. Both are completely, equally possible. This is humiliating, Oikawa thinks as sharp pain races up his backside. There’s a short puff of breath released above him, and then he becomes aware of the situation. Too aware.
There’s a gentle hand cradling his head from hitting the ground, long fingers weaved through his hair, and another softly grasping at his tapered waist. Something shifts between his legs and Oikawa flushes bright red when he realizes Ushijima is kneeling between his thighs, his strong body leaning over him.
This situation is way too familiar. Oikawa is suddenly thrown back to the night in Olympic village last year in Rio, at the Olympics when the setter was finally able to prove himself to the world. A little bit tipsy on drinks and adrenaline, riding on the high of glory, he’d let himself go—just that once.
Just like this, with the strong spiker leaning over him.
Heart beating out of his chest, Oikawa takes a deep breath before opening his eyes.
Big mistake.
Ushijima is there, staring down at him with concern in his gaze, his olive eyes (there’s a little gold in there) set in a strong, firm face. His broad shoulders completely block the sun from hitting Oikawa, shadows casting handsomely on the sharp angles of his face. I must have hit my head too hard, Oikawa thinks as he squints up at the spiker. Ushijima lets out a sigh of relief when the setter opens his eyes, and then shifts his shoulders—a motion ever so slight—but it causes the muscles barely contained in his black shirt to flex.
Holy shit, he’s hot.
The edges of his vision go hazy again, lids falling heavy as pain rings in his ear. Ushijima notices his discomfort and subconsciously leans closer, close enough that Oikawa can feel his breath on his face. Even through the stink of horse flowing around them, Ushijima’s cologne floods the setter’s senses. God damn it.
“Oikawa, are you alright?” His deep voice rumbles between them, care intertwined into his words like smooth honey.
Oikawa grins, delirious. “You’re fucking hot.”
And he blacks out.