Work Text:
Fuck winter. Oikawa thought as he rubbed his hands desperately to create friction and hopefully make enough of it to achieve warmth for his cold, dead hands. Fuck the cold.
Oikawa continued on that futile attempt of heating his stiff fingers by breathing on it with a haaah type of exhale instead of a hoooh type one because the haaah creates heat and not the hoooh one.
God. His brain is all over the place and it’s all because of the cold weather. He knew he should have worn gloves, but gloves irritate the fuck out of him. The payment for that though was, quite obviously: cold, dead hands.
Oikawa should have just brought his own car and took on the role of the driver, but he wanted to drink after the game with his former high school competitors so he had to go with someone else.
“Hey.” Futakuchi, his designated driver for the night, greeted as he walked up to him at the entrance of his unit’s building, “Sorry to make you wait. Hajime-san’s not playing today?”
“No. Do you think I’d need you to drive for me if he was coming?” Oikawa said with a lot of snark, but he was cold so the bite in it wasn’t deep enough in his opinion, “He’d come for the drinks though, and wait, since when were you two on a first name basis?”
Futakuchi shrugged, “Few drinks here and there.”
Oikawa squinted at that answer and Futakuchi avoided his inspecting stare by leading to walk towards the parking lot to where his car was.
“There were kisses involved?” Oikawa asked, his detective voice on as his detective glare scanned Futakuchi’s body up and down for any body language that would have given him a hint.
“Why would I tell you?” Futakuchi said, and Oikawa stared at the back of his head as he sing-sang, “It’s not a good habit to be jealous, Oikawa-san.”
Oikawa blew raspberries and rolled his eyes. He sighed, “Oh, please. Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t want to kiss you.”
Then all of a sudden, Futakuchi stopped walking. This confused Oikawa so he looked from side to side, thinking whether one of the two cars beside them were Futakuchi’s car. The younger then dramatically turned to face him in slow motion, and when Oikawa met his eyes, Futakuchi looked like he was surprised, but at the same time very curious of something.
Oikawa raised a spiteful brow to ask, what?
Futakuchi’s cracked, and dry lips due to the weather spread into the biggest shit eating grin as he stood taller with pride, straightening his back with some sort of unexplained boost of man confidence.
“Oh, Oikawa-san.” He started, then he chuckled, light but at the same time resonant and sultry, “You wanna kiss me so bad, huh?” Futakuchi slurred, his nasty smirk melting into the tone of his voice as he looked down on Oikawa and stepped closer.
Oikawa last remembered them being almost the same height but now he was being overwhelmed by the broadness of Futakuchi’s chest and shoulders along with the generally unnoticeable height difference they have.
When the fuck did this brat grow more than him? And why did those irrelevant 4 centimeters height difference suddenly feel more than four centimeters?
“I’m sorry, but from what context did you draw that conclusion from, sir?” Oikawa asked, planning to sound rational because he was genuinely confused as to how Futakuchi ended up with that thought. He aimed to be intelligent, but he saw Futakuchi become more humored at his use of sir and polite tone.
Oikawa frowned, disappointed with himself, because shit, that was the opposite of a smart move when you’re up against a Futakuchi Kenji.
“Well, you see, I was actually taunting you as if you were jealous that I was able to kiss Hajime-san, but you thought I was talking about me instead.” Futakuchi explained, and Oikawa stood his ground even as Futakuchi leaned closer, keeping their unwavering eye contact with each other.
“That’s a far reach, Futakuchi-kun.” Oikawa said, crossing his arms to sandwich his cold hands into the crook of his elbows as he scoffed a chuckle, “Maybe it’s you who wants to kiss me so bad.”
The pesky sparkle in Futakuchi’s mischievous eyes did not change or twinkle to fade away as he answered, “And what if I do, baby? What are you going to do about it?”
Oikawa huffed a single, loud laugh, either out of embarrassment or because of the pure ridiculousness of what he just heard straight from Futakuchi Kenji’s mouth.
Did Futakuchi just say he wanted to kiss Oikawa? Plus, did he just call him baby?
Looking at Futakuchi’s charming face so closely, Oikawa can see traces of a jest in the way the corners of his eyes crinkled and the way his grin was tinged with a bit of a cringe. The pet name was used to provoke him, of course, and it was used ironically, but Oikawa felt a burst of warmth somewhere from his diaphragm and he had to shout a HA! to free the dangerous insects inside his ribcage. They might sting him from the inside and curse him with a stupid love bite. He wouldn’t fall for tricks that the hets use in romantic young adult books. He’s too old for that shit.
“Use a lip balm first then maybe I’ll consider.” Oikawa blurted out after a while of just looking at each other with idiotic smiles on both of their faces.
Futakuchi tilted his head a bit as if weighing his options. He stared hard at Oikawa’s fully moisturized lips, then he leaned closer as if to really kiss Oikawa while saying, “Why don’t you just share yours now—“
“Brat.” Oikawa said, giggling as he mushes Futakuchi’s facial features together with his palm because Futakuchi knew it was coming. He must have not expected Oikawa to be able to squish his face this much though because he let out a short shriek. Oikawa shrugged. Holding Futakuchi’s mug wasn’t that different from holding a volleyball with one hand, except that he has pain receptors.
Futakuchi then started to laugh, but he suddenly paused again, which Oikawa was going to ask about but Futakuchi was quicker to move.
He took off Oikawa’s hand on his face and grabbed it with two hands. He lowered it down between the two of them as if examining it, then he said innocently like a child speaking their observations and thoughts aloud, “You’re cold.”
Oikawa wanted to say a witty remark but Futakuchi swiftly moved again as his expression brightened up and smiled at Oikawa as if cheering him up. In a second, he tightened his grip on Oikawa’s hand and placed it inside his pocket, which was weirdly and surprisingly warmer than Oikawa’s own pockets.
“Sorry I made you wait in the cold.” Futakuchi said, and Oikawa heard genuineness in it, which felt strange if you ask Oikawa.
They started to walk again. This time Futakuchi looked hasty to get in the car as soon as possible and Oikawa thought it was adorable that he was this considerate of a human being when he’s not busy being a jerk.
“It’s alright. It’s not like I expected you to be decent anyway.” Oikawa teased, letting Futakuchi drag him by the hand so easily like it was the most natural thing in the world. Oikawa doesn’t mind this, really.
“Whatever. Let’s get you warm or you’ll be sending suboptimal tosses later and that would be no fun.” Futakuchi smirked, looking sideways to wink at Oikawa.
Oikawa sniffed as his nose were getting slightly frozen as well, then he said, “I’ll be damned. I thought you cared about me as a whole.”
“Listen, I only care about you when it looks like you’re going to kiss me or when you’re setting.”
“Alright. Fuck you then.”
—
For the first set, Oikawa had Futakuchi on his team, and they were a pretty good match. Of course, skinship was inevitable during the game. Oikawa noticed the taunts Futakuchi was subtly sending him while they were waiting for the opponent team to serve, or at time out, or when they’re celebrating a point.
Oikawa did the same back to him, and it was so funny. It became even more comical when they were on the different sides of the net the next game. There was the competitive tension between them that never went away since they first met back in high school as captains of their volleyball teams, and their game against each other should have been more lighthearted this time because this was only a friendly competition, but them being them, they were more competitive this time.
Futakuchi tried to distract his serve by shouting hit me with your best shot, baby once, and if Oikawa just didn’t train himself like hell before, he would have missed that serve.
“That’s a foul!” Oikawa shouted from the other end of the court, getting ready to serve again because even though the other team did receive it, their attack was blocked.
“Send me balls!” Futakuchi responded instead of anything else that actually used braincells to muster. It embarrassed everyone but it also made them all laugh.
Oikawa wanted to continue the humor by asking how Futakuchi would like his balls, but he chose to just shut his mouth close before Futakuchi unabashedly shrieks something like the lines of ‘break me, daddy.’ Oikawa just felt like Futakuchi would shamelessly say those things as a joke, and he didn’t want to open Pandora’s box.
—
Oikawa planned on making Futakuchi drive him back to his hotel after the drinking but they were both peer pressured by Hinata to stay the night at his place along with some more of the gang and continue to drink there so Futakuchi could also get wasted. Of course, Hinata Shoyou with alluring shiny bronze skin, bright fucking grin and enchanting eyes would be able to persuade two cynical bitches like Futakuchi and Oikawa, so off they go.
Ruckus after ruckus, Futakuchi finally caught up with the level of alcohol content running in their blood. There were few dropouts already after 3am so the place finally toned down. Some of them slept on beds, some of them are still trying to sober up at the kitchen, some strong as fuck motherfucker was giving someone a shower, and Oikawa? He was right beside Futakuchi on the living room’s carpet. They were watching a movie with some other people that either vanished off to somewhere else or fell asleep. Futakuchi was one of those that fell asleep, and Oikawa was starting to be sleepy too.
He wanted a blanket but Hinata was nowhere to be seen and he didn’t want to accidentally walk in on people if ever some of them are doing the do just for a blanket so he did the next best thing his intoxicated brain could think of as a solution.
He inserted his hands underneath Futakuchi’s shirt and rested his palms against his back. It was a breach of privacy, but he did it modestly and gently, hopefully enough not to stir him awake. When Futakuchi didn’t budge, Oikawa released the breath he was holding and relaxed his fingers onto Futakuchi’s warmth because it was comforting; it very was nice.
“Hey.” Oikawa called in a whisper, and he’s not sure why he’s talking, but maybe it’s the alcohol. Then he asked, “You sleeping?”
Futakuchi moved, which startled Oikawa because he didn’t expect any movement or response from Futakuchi, but the younger settled back into his position in a better angle without shrugging off Oikawa’s cold hands.
“No.” He answered awkwardly after a while, and Oikawa giggled.
“Is it okay if I use you as a heater?” Oikawa shyly asked, flexing his fingers and spreading it against Futakuchi’s spine.
“Go ahead.”
Oikawa smiled, pleased to hear that so he finally closed his eyes, welcoming slumber to come take him soon.
After a while, he heard shuffling sounds and his hands were detached from Futakuchi’s warmth. Oikawa pouted, about to complain before he falls completely in the grasp of sleep, but he soon felt hands clutching on his arms as Futakuchi asked, “Are you cold?”
Oikawa nodded and hummed as he was pulled into a pleasant, warm embrace, easing into Futakuchi’s chest and moulding himself into Futakuchi’s curves to efficiently feel more of his warmth.
Futakuchi proceeded to comb his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, petting him to sleep and warming his scalp. He felt Oikawa’s cold ears as well so he brushed against it softly to warm it up as well. Oikawa felt ticklish with the weird sensation, but his tired body couldn’t even react to it, and it was also soothing so he didn’t complain. Oikawa still wanted to feel Futakuchi under his palm, so he snuck a hand underneath Futakuchi’s shirt again and let it creep on top of his waist.
“Thanks, Kenji.” Oikawa sincerely said with his last bit of energy, and with his alcohol riddled brain, he didn’t understand what he just said until he felt the vibration of Futakuchi’s chuckle directly from his chest. He then heard him say two words that would lull him to a very peaceful and warm sleep with a soft smile.
“Goodnight, Tooru.”