Work Text:
IWAIZUMI DID NOT MEAN TO MISS HIS TRAIN, you couldn’t say the same.
If it were anyone else, they’d tell him you had purposely kept him longer than he should have in your home, intentionally kept the time hidden in hopes that he would miss his train — that he’d have to stay with you. Thankfully, there wasn’t anyone else, and your little secret will be hidden by you, locked at the back of your head with the key long swallowed.
“Y/N? Why is it so cold in here?” Iwaizumi mumbled, making his way around your apartment. He’s slowly starting to feel the gentle tremulous of his fingers, rubbing his palms together in a desperate attempt to receive warmth.
The moment he hears a muffled response from you, he’s traveling towards the source of the voice, walking into your bedroom where you’re huddled under your thick blanket, a huge shirt framing your figure — his shirt. The sight throws him into a frenzy.
“Heater broke right when you left.” You expounded, smiling sheepishly at him.
This was not part of the plan, but you definitely weren’t complaining. Maybe, in a way, the universe was finally listening to your pleas, playing cards that are just beyond your reach and leaving you on the brink of finally being able to be held by him.
Why else would he have missed his train? Why else would the heater break? To you, there was no other explanation.
The universe was taunting your feelings, but you’re about to let its taunting transcend into something beautiful.
“Is there anything I can do to help fix it?”
You shook your head, explaining that you had already tried calling maintenance and even had your go at repairing it, to no avail. As if a switch goes off in Iwaizumi’s head, he disappears into the inky dark without any clarifications.
You hoped he’d sneak in under your covers and wrap his arms around you — I mean years of wistful longing has gotten you this far, to the point where even the universe was tired of your bullshit, so why shouldn’t it work now?
He comes back with a handful of blankets he had found in your living room, as well as an unfamiliar piece of navy clothing hanging from his arms. Before you can ask what it is he was holding in his hands, he dumps the blankets on top of you, telling you to lift your arms up so he can properly get you in his hoodie.
“Smells like you.” You grinned at him, and you could’ve sworn you saw a slight shade of pink dust on the his cheeks at the sight of his huge hoodie swallowing your figure.
There was just something about you in his clothing, huddled up in bed that sends Iwaizumi into madness, an infite loop of you saying it smelled like him repeating on and on in his head.
“I missed my train, do you mind if I stayed here for the night?”
He’s answered by the eager nod of your head, and before he can take ten steps out of your bedroom door, you tell him to stay and get under the covers with you (if he didn’t mind) — because there were no blankets left in the living room and you didn't want him to freeze to death.
At least that’s the excuse you gave. And if there were more blankets hidden in a room somewhere, you didn’t tell him.
You reason that cuddling was nothing new to the both of you (at least at the age of 10, but now you were both 17. You don’t bring this up).
You're impressed with yourself at how quick you were able to get him to slip under the covers with you. As if he’d wanted this as long as you have, at least it’s what you deduce when he makes no further arguments.
Cheeks squished against the soft material of his shirt, you sigh out in relief at the extra warmth Iwaizumi radiated.
It feels right, especially with him pulling you in as close as possible. You can feel him stiffen up a bit when your head makes contact with his arm, but just as quickly as he tenses, he relaxes when your scent evades all his senses.
He thinks your perfume might be holding him ransom from the way he can’t seem to move from his spot — instead prompting to lean his head against yours.
“Are you sleepy?” The rasp in his voice sends you into a hysteria, begging the universe for one last favor, to be able to put his voice in a record and replay it anytime you pleased.
“Little. Tell me something, anything.” His chest shakes with laughter at your stubbornness.
He knows you don’t want to sleep because time spent with him has been rare especially with volleyball practices and tournaments taking away most of his time — you don’t want to lose your best friend, after all. So he complies, he narrates to you silly stories about Makki, Mattsun and Oikawa. He talks to you about how he misses spending time with you a lot, and that as soon as he gets the time, he’ll be on the first train to you.
And it’s almost a shame you had fallen asleep before you were able to see the fondness in his smile when he whispers a soft “goodnight” to you.
He’s just about to fall asleep, to live in the ruins of your smile in his dreams when his phone buzzes from where he had placed it on your bedside table, and he slowly shifts his weight as to not wake you up in the process of grabbing his phone.
The notification is a text from Oikawa, asking if he had a moment to call.
Iwaizumi does a double take to stare at your peaceful expression, the little pout on your mouth allows him a smile and he decides that Oikawa can tell him in the morning, so he quickly types a text with the arm that’s not around you, “With Y/N atm. Don’t wanna wake them. Is it urgent?”.
Oikawa’s reply is a joke, Iwaizumi can tell, but it doesn’t stop the warmth bubbling at his throat when he reads the innocent question if the two of you were finally together.
“Maybe someday.”
Iwaizumi tucks his chin on your hair, bleary and half-asleep, his lips pressing a sweet kiss on your head before closing his eyes, and finally falling prisoner to the sleep that was waiting for him.
And if Iwaizumi hadn’t actually missed his train and just wanted to come back to you before your busy schedules eat you up, he didn’t tell.