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Hanamaki did not partake in the blazing of the grass, the lighting of the blunt, the ripping of the zaza (if you will).
He didn’t smoke weed.
However, at 10 p.m. on a Friday night, he found himself a witness of a drug deal.
“Be cool, Makki.”
“Oikawa, I’m ice cold. The coolest of the cool.”
Iwaizumi chuckled from the front seat, turning his head to look back at Hanamaki. He reached towards the driver’s seat to rest a hand on Oikawa’s thigh, rubbing his thumb in circles while he spoke.
“It’s really not a big deal, Hanamaki,” he said, offering a reassuring smile. “It’s just one of our buddies from high school. He’ll pull up, I’ll get in his car for a minute, and then I’ll get back in.”
“Hypothetically,” Hanamaki started, “let’s say, we get pulled over on the way home, which is not unlikely because Oikawa is a shitty driver.” Oikawa flipped him off over his shoulder. “What do we do with the Mary Jane then?”
“Up the asshole,” Oikawa said, meeting Hanamaki’s eyes in the rearview mirror while fighting back a grin. “They’ll never find it.”
“How would it fit in your asshole, asshole,” Hanamaki deadpanned. “Won’t it be in a bag or something?”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way. I’ve had practice, you know.”
“God, I don’t wanna know.”
“You would want to know with how big- ow, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa pouted at Iwaizumi, rubbing the spot where he pinched his thigh.
“Don’t talk about it so openly, Shittykawa!”
“It’s not like I don’t already tell him this stuff, Iwa-chan!”
“For fuck’s sake- do you actually?”
“Am I not supposed to?”
They went back and forth like they always did, but Hanamaki wasn’t listening. His eyes were locked on the man in the car that had pulled up next to them, eyes on his phone in the driver’s seat.
“You didn’t tell me your drug dealer was fucking hot,” Hanamaki said, and it was obvious that he was, even in the dim, flickering streetlight. He could see the man’s dark, mussed hair and the tattoos that climbed up his neck, meeting his sharp jawline.
“Keep it in your pants, Makki.” Oikawa pretended to gag, and Iwaizumi scrunched his nose and squinted at the man through the window, like it wasn’t obvious how fucking sexy he was.
“Says you. Is he single?”
“We are not setting you up with our dealer,” Iwaizumi groaned.
“Dude, why not?” Hanamaki asked, leaning forward to hit Iwaizumi’s shoulder.
“If things go badly, we lose our plug,” Oikawa said matter-of-factly, dismissing the thought with a wave of his hand.
“If things go well, I could get you a discount.”
Oikawa and Iwaizumi exchanged glances. They both turned suddenly, each of them placing a hand on Hanamaki’s shoulders. Iwaizumi dug out a wad of cash from his jacket pocket and handed it to him.
“Get in there, champ,” he said, and Oikawa nodded seriously. Hanamaki breathed out a nervous laugh, throwing a couple mock punches in the air in front of him.
“Wish me luck.” He winked at them, unbuckling and getting out of the car.
”Get us a discount, bitch,” Oikawa called after him.
Hanamaki saw the man look up from his phone when he slammed Oikawa’s car door. He crossed over to the passenger’s side of his car, opening it and sliding in with a content sigh before pulling it shut.
“I’d like to purchase one weed, please,” Hanamaki said, turning to face the man, and shit – he could see him clearly now.
He was all glazed eyes and soft, curly hair. Red and black and green ink ran up and down his muscled arms, the rest of his tattoos hidden beneath a baggy band tee and ripped jeans. He stared straight at Hanamaki, easy and relaxed, but something in his eyes was almost seductive, even though he wasn’t trying to be.
“You’re not Iwaizumi,” he said in a low, scratchy voice, and Hanamaki had to suppress a shiver.
“He’s preoccupied.” Hanamaki offered a grin, and the man turned to look out his window, huffing out a laugh (sure enough, he was preoccupied, hands and mouth all over Oikawa in the front seat of his car).
“They’re like rabbits,” the man said, turning back towards Hanamaki. He hummed in agreement. “In high school, too.” There was a beat of silence.
“Hanamaki Takahiro,” he introduced himself, holding out a hand towards him.
“Matsukawa Issei.” Matsukawa took his hand, shaking it once before letting go. “I don’t take it you’ve done this before, Hanamaki.”
“Not this,” he said, a playful lilt in his voice. Matsukawa met his eyes with a smirk.
“But?”
“But other things.”
He hummed, and his smirk slipped into a smile that Hanamaki couldn’t help but match.
“Other things may be of interest.”
“Smooth, Matsukawa.”
“Why, thank you.”
There was another passing moment of silence, and Matsukawa refused to break eye contact, eyes half-lidded and piercing. Hanamaki’s palms began to sweat.
Matsukawa tilted his head then and leaned forward slowly, sudden but definitely not unwelcome. Hanamaki swallowed his nervousness and closed his eyes. He felt his hand brush against his leg and waited for the press of his mouth that didn’t come.
He heard a quiet click and blinked his eyes open.
Matsukawa was reaching over him, hand in the open glove compartment to grab a baggie full of weed. He pulled away, raising an eyebrow at him, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.
“Motherfucker,” Hanamaki laughed quietly, shaking his head and trying to will the pink in his cheeks to go away.
“Who, me?” Matsukawa asked teasingly, holding out the bag for Hanamaki to take. He accepted it, handing him the cash Iwaizumi gave him in return.
He was officially a criminal. They could take him to jail, and he probably wouldn’t even regret it with the way Matsukawa was looking at him.
Probably.
“You usually tip your drug dealer, you know,” Matsukawa said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel briefly. Hanamaki lifted his eyebrows.
“Oh?”
Matsukawa glanced at him and shrugged. Hanamaki’s chest tightened when he noticed the blush on the other man’s cheeks. Fuck.
“You know.”
“I know,” Hanamaki said, reaching out and tugging at Matsukawa’s shirt sleeve. “I’m a really good tipper.”
Matsukawa coughed in his fist to hide his smile.
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
“Wanna ditch ‘em?”
Hanamaki looked around him, and Oikawa and Iwaizumi had ended up in the backseat.
“I don’t think they’ll notice we’re gone.”
Matsukawa put the car in drive, and holy shit, Hanamaki was totally about to go to a drug-dealing stranger’s house and get laid.
He was more than okay with it.
Two hours later, they were naked in Matsukawa’s bed and listening to Oikawa’s angry voicemails on speaker. He opened his groupchat with Oikawa and Iwaizumi, typing out a message.
you’re totally getting a discount