Work Text:
Running errands for his mother was not on the list of things Tooru had initially planned for his vacation. Although, was it really a vacation if he was just visiting his childhood home? Then again, it couldn’t be classified as a simple visit home if he wasn’t even a citizen of his home country anymore.
Regardless, being sent to go pick up groceries and other miscellaneous items while on his sorta-vacation-maybe-visit-home-break was not on the agenda. But his parents were at work and Tooru didn’t really have anything to do, so here he is, at a medium-sized department store, praying the prices for the things here aren’t too high, lest he face the wrath of his eternally frugal mother.
It’s while he’s looking for where they keep the hand towels, aimlessly wandering around and getting closer to the clothing section, that Tooru spots something unexpected. Well, someone unexpected.
Kageyama Tobio.
It’s not that much of a coincidence, realistically; they grew up in the same general area, after all. It’s not too outlandish to assume Tobio is also spending his break visiting family or whatever.
What is absolutely and utterly outlandish is that Tooru would run into him. Because of course Tobio would be shopping in the exact same store and at the exact same time and in the exact same section of the store as Tooru.
If it were anyone else, Tooru would chalk it up to fate. A tiny little piece of destiny.
But it’s freaking Kageyama Tobio and he’s standing there, all 2.9 cm taller than Tooru, stupid broad shoulders and inky black hair, in a better style than it was the last time Tooru saw him. Which was at the Olympics. When they faced off against each other.
It felt normal, natural, to see Tobio on the Olympic court. It’s a little bizarre to see him at a department store, in the baby section, in that weird way it is to see Tobio do anything unrelated to volleyball—
Wait. Hold up.
Baby section??
Tooru blinks and takes in the surroundings again. Yep, definitely the baby section. And there Tobio is, eyes roaming over a section of newborn onesies with the regal seriousness Tobio does practically everything with.
Tooru can pretty much hear his brain making error! sounds because ??? why is Tobio in the baby aisle, why is he looking at baby clothes, does Tobio even know what a baby is ???
Tooru has clearly been standing in the same spot for too long, seeing as a young woman mumbles a soft ‘ excuse me’ before brushing past him. As soft as her words were, they were still loud enough to make Tobio glance over.
Annnnd...it’s too late for Tooru to make his escape because now he’s making eye contact with freaking Tobio-chan.
“Oh,” says Tobio, “Hello, Oikawa-san,” he bows his head in greeting, and it infuriates Tooru. Because why is Tobio looking so calm and collected in a pair of joggers and a black t-shirt, while Tooru is freaking out, his mind overheating from trying to process the current situation? He shoves the uneasiness away, smoothing the sleeve of his light blue pullover and thanking his past self for choosing to wear jeans that make his butt look extra nice, and plasters on a smile he calls ‘charming’ but Iwa-chan calls ‘ homicidal’ .
“Tobio-chan!” Tooru says, all too loudly for a quiet department store. “What a surprise .”
Tobio tilts his head, staring at Tooru. His stupid blue eyes look as clear as ever, and it reminds Tooru exactly of how his sister’s cat will just stare into his very soul. Although he minds it less when it’s Tobio and not his sister’s possessed cat.
“Well…” Tobio says after another beat of silent staring. “I’ll let you continue with your shopping, then…”
And then the little brat turns away!!! From Tooru! He just goes back to pursuing the rack of baby clothes, like that’s a totally normal thing for Tobio to be doing.
Outraged, Tooru marches up to the other setter. He crosses his arms (which is only slightly difficult with the shopping basket in his hand), tapping his foot impatiently. Tobio-chan looks back at Tooru, opening his mouth like he’s about to say something, only to close it again.
“ Well? ” Tooru all but snaps.
Tobio glances around, like he’s looking for someone to give him an answer.
“What is this?” Tooru clarifies for him, gesticulating wildly at Tobio and the disgustingly cute baby clothes in his hands.
“A onesie,” Tobio states, lifting the offensive clothing so Tooru can get a better look at it. There are little bunnies all over it. Disgusting. “Is it not nice?” Tobio wonders aloud, glancing down at it.
“Why are you buying baby clothes?” Tooru gets straight to the point. There’s a small (rational) part of him that warns him that he’s kind of acting like a lunatic. Some would argue that acting like a lunatic is his default state when it comes to Tobio.
“Because the baby will be born next month,” Tobio says, blunt and straightforward in a manner that only his Tobio-chan ever is.
And Tooru’s mind freaks out again, a flurry of questions bombarding his brain. What baby? Your baby? Tobio-chan’s having a baby? What girl did Tobio-chan knock up? Is she prettier than me???
“Oikawa-san…” Tobio waves a hand in front of Tooru’s face. “Are you okay?”
No, Tooru is not. Why is he not okay? What did it matter what Tobio did with his free time, anyway?
“Who’s the mother?” Tooru asks, his mouth blurting out the question without permission. Tooru is filled with self-hatred then because why the everloving fuck would you ask him that?! Good job, Tooru! You absolutely knocked it out of the park this time, I can already hear Iwa-chan laughing his ass off—
“Uh, my sister,” Tobio says, like that’s an obvious fact.
Wait. What? What?
“What?” Tooru asks aloud this time, a frantic mantra of what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck repeating in his mind.
“My sister’s having a baby,” Tobio attempts to clarify, looking at Tooru with concern. The same way people look at daytime drunks or those dogs with cones around their necks.
“Your sister is having a baby,” Tooru repeats. “And you are not having a baby? Because it’s your sister’s baby and not yours. You are baby-less.”
“I— what?” Tobio tilts his head in confusion. Tooru sends a prayer to an unspecified divine being, a prayer of thanks that Tobio has always been and will always be a total airhead. Any rational and intelligent person most definitely would have stopped talking to Tooru by now. Maybe even called security.
“Well then, Tobio-chan,” Tooru smiles. This would be a good time to leave. Crisis has been averted and he can save himself from any further embarrassment. Leave Tobio be and get back to picking up errands for his mother. He should say goodbye now. Instead, he says this: “Your sense of fashion is as awful as ever. You’d really dress your poor niece-or-nephew up in this? You’re lucky I’m here.”
“Lucky?” Tobio echoes, raising an eyebrow.
“My sister also had a baby, once,” Tooru says, as if that’s any sort of qualification for anything ever. Tooru was about ten when Takeru was born and he distinctly remembers absolutely hating how much the kid cried all night and that one time he threw up all over Tooru. He got over it, eventually. And it’s not like he needs to tell Tobio any of that. “We can put this back,” Tooru grabs the offensive bunny onesie and puts it back on the rack. “And look for some— wait,” Tooru pauses, he turns to face Tobio again.
“What?” Tobio blinks.
“Since when do you have a sister?” Tooru narrows his eyes.
“Since I was born, I guess.”
“This is no time for your smart comments, Tobio-chan! How come I never knew that?”
“That I had a sister?” Tobio asks. “Why would you?”
And yes, why would he know that? Why would he need to?
Something bitter and suspiciously close to disappointment churns in Tooru’s stomach. He ignores it, whipping around to face the clothing display again.
“Oikawa-san,” Tobio says after about a minute of silence between them. “You…”
Tooru turns to look at Tobio, his heart jumping a bit when he sees those cool blue eyes staring right at him. Those blue eyes and those dark lashes, thin brows and high nose, sharp jaw and soft cheeks. Tobio makes it real hard not to stare at him and Tooru kinda hates him for it. But not really though.
“You,” Tobio continues, “really like shopping for baby clothes?”
Tooru blinks. Then glances down at his basket that holds the ten or so baby outfits he’s mindlessly picked off the rack. Whoops.
“I don’t think the baby is going to need that many,” Tobio says, voice low in an almost-whisper, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips.
Tooru’s heart does a backflip. And a front flip and cartwheel and just a whole damn gymnastics routine. Disgusting. Horrifying, is what it is. Tooru turns away, unable to bear looking at Tobio a second longer.
He clears his throat, rifling through the different outfits he has in the basket, “Silly Tobio-chan, don’t you know anything about babies? You’re supposed to change their outfit for every meal.”
“That doesn’t seem right,” Tobio says, following after Tooru as he marches off.
“Make every meal a moment! You only have a baby once, after all.”
“That’s not true at all. We both have siblings.”
“Declining fertility rates, Tobio-chan!”
Their cashier is a young-looking girl, maybe college-aged. She is not impressed with the bundle of clothes Tooru presents to her. Even less impressed when, after Tooru realizes ten onesies really is way too many for a newborn, he tells her they’re only getting one of them and asks if she could please put the rest back. Tooru feels marginally bad about it and shoots her a charming smile.
She looks even less impressed then. Harsh.
“Sorry about him,” Tobio (unnecessarily) apologizes again as he pulls out his wallet. “He’s a foreigner.” And, okay, hey! Tooru glares at Tobio’s head.
When did Tobio get smart enough to understand technicalities? How dare he make it seem like he’s some crude foreign customer? Tooru’s a crude Japanese customer!
As Tobio accepts the receipt and his purchase, Tooru realizes he’s gotten virtually nothing from the list his mother sent him off with.
Sorry, Mom, but there are more pressing matters to attend to. Namely, following Tobio out of the store and onto the sunny streets.
Tooru lengthens his strides so he catches up with Tobio. “Where are you going?”
Where is he going? Where are YOU going, Tooru??
Tooru, once again, ignores the alarmed voice of reason in his head and continues to walk with Tobio.
“Home?” Tobio eyes Tooru, suspicious and disconcerted.
“Your home? Like the home you grew up in?”
Tobio nods stiffly, jabbing the button for the crosswalk with his spare hand.
Okay. So following Tobio home would be weird. Asking to go with him, possibly even weirder. Tooru acknowledges that.
But! It’s Tobio’s childhood home. Where he grew up, with his mysterious older sister probably. Where there may be pictures of tiny Tobio, back when he wasn’t all tall and sorta-cool-looking but tiny and squishy and starry-eyed for Tooru.
Still...Tooru can’t just go about inviting himself over. Because then Tobio will ask why and there’s no not-embarrassing reason Tooru can come up with and—
“Did you want to come over?”
Oh, unspecified divine being, I thank thee for thy benevolence in my time of need…
“As if! Why would I want to do that?” Tooru sniffs, crossing his arms.
“Okay, don’t come then. Goodbye, Oikawa-san.” The crosswalk changes, signalling the pedestrians to walk, and Tobio steps off the curb, away from Tooru.
“Hey, wait!” Tooru jogs after him. “Fine. Since you’re insisting so much.”
“I wasn’t insisting at all.”
“It’s rude to take back invitations like that, Tobio-chan,” Tooru tuts. Tobio doesn’t say anything about that, just sighs at continues to lead Tooru to his house. But Tooru swears he sees an amused gleam in Tobio’s eyes and a small, minuscule smile on his face.
Tooru honestly isn’t sure what expectations he had for Tobio’s childhood home.
At first glance, the house looks like just about any other house in the neighbourhood: two stories with a front yard area sprawling with overgrown grass and flowers. Tooru diligently follows behind Tobio as he pushes open the front gate.
Tooru wonders what kind of home Tobio grew up in. Other than his newly acquired knowledge of Tobio’s pregnant sister, Tooru has no clue about his family. He wonders if Tobio is like his parents. His brain conjures up images of a stern-looking mother, reserved father, maybe a couple of ice beauties because Tobio had to have gotten his height and looks from somewhere, right?
What Tooru does not picture is the crazy woman who opens the front door.
Before Tobio can even pull out his keys, the front door to his house swings open, revealing a dark-haired woman in an apron wielding a very large, very sharp-looking knife in her hand.
Naturally, Tooru screams.
He lets out a shriek that gets caught in his throat, stumbling backwards. He clutches the back of Tobio’s shirt and hides behind him. Tobio appears utterly unfazed.
“Oh, you’re here!” the woman says cheerfully and oh god the crazy lady was waiting for Tobio to come back so she could stab him!!!
“Mm, tadaima, ” Tobio greets and steps inside, pulling Tooru along with him.
What?
“ Okaeri! ”
What???
“Who’s your friend, Tobio?” The woman peeks around Tobio, glancing at Tooru. Tooru releases his hold on Tobio’s shirt and stands up straight.
“Oikawa Tooru,” he introduces himself with a smile. “I’m Tobio-chan’s...” Friend? Not true at all. Senpai? Haven’t technically been in 12 years. Rival? Maybe, but should he really introduce himself like that?
“Where are the guest slippers?” Tobio asks when Tooru falters. The woman uses the knife to point to a shoe cupboard, the blade dangerously glinting in the sunlight.
“Ah!” She brings her palm to her cheek and Tooru is very concerned that this lady is gonna accidentally stab herself with that knife. “Tobio, do proper introductions when you bring people home. I’m Kageyama Tomoko, Tobio’s mother.”
Tobio-chan’s mother!!!
Too distracted by potentially being stabbed at any moment, Tooru didn’t really notice the resemblance between her and Tobio. Same dark, smooth hair. The same high nose bridge, and almond-shaped eyes, although, Tobio’s are a deeper, richer shade of blue.
It seems obvious now that the pretty, willowy woman is Tobio’s mom but, again, the knife was distracting. Also, Tooru’s sure he conceptually knew Tobio had a mother, he never really imagined Tobio had a mother.
And, unlike Tobio, his mother apparently knows how to smile.
“Oh. Nice to meet you, Kageyama-san,” Tooru bows gently, remembering his manners.
“What brings you here, Tooru-kun?” She sends Tooru another smile as they follow her deeper into the house.
“I—” What exactly is he doing here? He pretty much followed Tobio home on a whim and now has no clue what to do or say in the face of Tobio’s smiley, knife-wielding mother.
“Food,” Tobio interrupts Tooru (rude!), tugging on his mother’s sleeve.
“Hungry? Go show Tooru-kun where the bathroom is and wash up,” Tobio’s mother shoos them away, taking Tobio-chan’s shopping bag from him.
Tobio leads Tooru into the bathroom. On the way, Tooru notices how oddly clean the house is. Unlike his parents' house, there isn’t clutter or junk laying all over the place. The floors are clean and the walls are bare. No embarrassing childhood photos of Tobio hung up. Sad.
They return to the other room after washing their hands and Tobio’s mother is setting down a tray with two glasses of milk and two slices of cake.
Tobio, without even inviting Tooru, plops down on the floor cushion and grabs a glass of milk and a plate of cake for himself. Tooru rolls his eyes at Tobio’s abhorrent hospitality skills and takes a seat next to him. Their knees brush against each other.
“This is a new recipe, let me know how it tastes,” Tobio’s mother offers Tooru the remaining cake slice.
“Oh, do you bake, Kageyama-san?” Tooru accepts the plate, adjusting his hold on his fork.
“I run a nearby bakery,” Tobio’s mother explains. Tobio offers no commentary, too busy stuffing his face with cake. How rude, leaving Tooru to solely converse with his mother that Tooru didn’t even know existed until five minutes ago.
It is much easier than conversing with Tobio, though. Tobio’s mother is nice and can actually hold a conversation. And she can make a damn good cake. Tooru wonders how Tobio ended up like, well, Tobio-chan, having a mother like that.
“Ah, so you helped Tobio pick out a gift. That’s so kind of you!” Tobio’s mother claps her hands together. Tooru smiles, feeling a little smug at how easily he’s charming Tobio’s mother.
“It was nothing,” Tooru waves a hand. “Just helping my dear kouhai out.”
“Wow! To think of him, even after all these years, Tobio must be really special to you, right, Tooru-kun?
“I—” Tooru’s smile freezes on his face.
“Do you like Tobio or something? How cute!”
Never mind, Tooru can see exactly how Tobio ended up like that. He wonders if Tobio’s sister is just as airheaded and offensively blunt as these two.
“Haha, I—” Tooru tries to think of something to say but all he can do is smile, his cheeks smarting from how hard he’s doing so.
He absolutely refuses to look at Tobio, however, so Tooru isn’t too sure what kind of look is on Tobio’s face. Maybe he’s not even looking at Tooru, maybe he’s just focused on his cake and his milk and has no clue what kind of things his mother’s words are doing to Tooru’s mind right now.
“Oh, that reminds me,” Tobio’s mother turns her attention to Tobio. “Is Shoyo-kun busy this weekend? You should invite him over before he has to leave.”
...What part of any of that reminded her of Shoyo, is this psychological warfare??
Tooru’s grip tightens around his fork to the point he’s afraid he might bend the thin metal. He sets it down, just in case.
“I don’t know,” Tobio shrugs, gulping down the last of his milk. “I’ll ask.”
“Set up a futon if he is,” Tobio’s mother stacks up the empty dishes.
“Don’t want to,” Tobio sighs, “He can just sleep on my bed.”
Is this the kind of conversation you people have when a guest is over!?
Images of Shoyo splayed out on Tobio’s bed flash in Tooru’s mind, against his will. The psychological warfare seems to be effective.
“Tooru-kun,” Tobio’s mother asks him with a sweet voice, “Did you want anything else?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Tooru says, staring off into the distance.
“Well, I need to head out now. Tobio, be nice to your guest!”
Tobio’s mother leaves shortly after that and Tooru and Tobio remain, alone, in the living room. Neither of them say anything. Tooru’s eyes flicker around the room, taking in every detail. A ceiling fan above them, rotating slowly. A small nick on the wooden table in front of him. There’s a TV off to the side, it doesn’t look very used. No video game consoles or wires about. Only a DVD player and a VCR. Ha, and Iwa-chan made fun of Tooru for still having a VCR. There are some plants in the opposite corner, well-taken care of, by the looks of it. Tooru wonders who takes care of them. Maybe Tobio’s mother. Or maybe his father, because if Tobio has a mother, he probably has a father too.
Finally, his eyes catch Tobio’s and Tooru feels himself still, like a wild gazelle being caught by a hungry wolf.
Tobio watches Tooru, an unreadable look on his face. He leans back on his palms, head tilted to the side, his bangs falling into his eyes. This position shows off the muscled curves of Tobio’s arm, Tobio’s collarbone peeking out from beneath his shirt, daylight sun brightening his complexion.
Tooru’s heart leaps into his throat, making it difficult to swallow and breathe.
“Your mom said to be nice to me,” Tooru says, not caring that he sounds like a ten-year-old whining for a turn on a gaming console.
“And?” Tobio raises an eyebrow.
“Show me your room,” Tooru demands.
“Why?”
Because I need to make sure it’s totally childish and unsexy, in case Shoyo sleeps in there.
Tooru’s childhood room is most definitely unsexy, walls plastered with old posters and stickers, his desk littered with potentially cringe photos from high school.
“Just to see how lame it is,” Tooru says instead, scowling a bit.
“Fine,” Tobio rolls his eyes, standing up. He stretches a bit, arms raised over his head, shirt riding up and exposing Tobio’s smooth abdomen muscles.
God, Tobio’s room better be unsexy as hell. For Tooru’s own sake, right now, at least.
“Come on,” Tobio nods his head and heads up the stairs. Tooru follows behind him, willing his heart to get its shit together.
Tobio’s room is, as far as bedrooms go, pretty unsexy. Very fortunate for Tooru.
It’s fairly empty. Only a twin bed pressed against the wall, an underutilized desk across from it, and some training weights in the corner. The only sign of life really is Tobio’s suitcase pressed against the wall.
There aren’t any picture frames or knick-knacks. Even the bedsheets are a plain blue colour.
“This is lame,” Tooru huffs, taking a seat on Tobio’s desk chair.
“What were you even expecting?” Tobio grumbles, sitting on the edge of his bed.
“I don’t know. Maybe some signs someone actually lived here,” Tooru huffs, running a finger along Tobio’s wooden desk. There are no scratches, no pen marks, no dorky stickers stuck to the sides. Oh wait, a picture frame on the top shelf of the desk.
It’s Tobio and his little first-year friends. By the looks of it, they were probably third-tears when the photo was taken. Tooru knows that Shoyo and Tobio are an eternally-linked pair of idiots but he wonders if Tobio keeps in touch with the others; Glasses, Freckles, and that cutie manager Tooru can’t remember hearing the name of.
“I don’t live here, though. Anymore,” Tobio states. There’s something in Tobio’s tone, something left unsaid, some kind of sadness in his words. His eyes don’t quite meet Tooru’s, gaze fixated on the blank wall next to him.
And yet, Tooru can’t bring himself to ask what it is that’s bothering Tobio. Silence settles upon them for a few moments, stifling and awkward.
“Your mom is nice,” Tooru says, lamely.
“I know,” Tobio says, eyeing Tooru suspiciously like Tooru just said he’s secretly an alien and not, you know, kindly complimenting Tobio’s mother.
“Too bad she’s stuck with an idiot son like you.”
That gets a better reaction out of Tobio at least, a small huff escaping from him, cheeks puffing outwards in a way that makes Tobio look so squishable. Squashable. As in, Tooru wants to crush him, in a rival way. Obviously.
“So what if I’m an idiot?” Tobio challenges, passionate all of a sudden. “What’s wrong with that?”
Tobio’s got a look in his eye, something that makes his stormy blue eyes look electric. He sits leaning back on his palms, head tilted to the side as his eyes bore into Tooru’s. There’s that familiar scowl on his face, lips a peachy pink colour. Tooru wonders if Tobio would taste sweet, like the vanilla custard cake his mother gave them.
Tooru wishes he sat on Tobio’s bed too, instead of the desk chair. Three metres seems much too far away now.
And then it fully settles on Tooru exactly what kind of thoughts he’s having, been having all day. He feels unsure of himself, an uncomfortable and unwelcome feeling swimming around his gut. It’s gross and warm and heavy, the way humid air is on late summer evenings, and Tooru hates it. So, he decides to do something about it.
“Tobio-chan,” Tooru says, sliding the desk chair a bit closer.
“What?”
Tooru stares at him, trying to dissect every bit of Tobio. Because there’s no way he’s gonna do anything if it’ll result in embarrassing himself. He needs to be sure, 100% sure.
“Do you like me, Tobio-chan?”
“...No.”
God, why does he even bother with this kid?
“Don’t lie!” Tooru shouts, kicking himself up off the chair and looming over Tobio. Tobio looks away, his ears a reddish-pink colour. “You. You like me don’t you, Tobio-chan?”
“ No, ” Tobio repeats petulantly, like the absolute brat he is.
“Why’d you invite me to your house then?” Tooru puts his hands on his hips and leans in closer.
“Why’d you even come?” Tobio retorts, still refusing to meet Tooru’s eyes.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No,” Tobio says with a frown.
“You really are an idiot, Tobio-chan,” Tooru sighs. His hands itch to grab at Tobio’s face and force him to look at Tooru again. A Tobio-chan who refuses to look in Tooru’s direction just doesn’t feel right.
“Tell me then,” Tobio mutters, pouting a bit.
“No use telling you anything. You’re too much of an airheaded dummy,” Tooru hums.
“Shitty personality,” Tobio grumbles, bringing one leg up and resting his chin on his knee.
“Mean!” Tooru cries. “I can’t believe I was actually about to k-ki— ” Tooru’s words halt, dying down like a lightbulb fizzling out.
“About to what?” Tobio finally glances at Tooru, a blank expression on his stupid, handsome face. Stupid and handsome. Stupidly handsome. Oh, how irritating his Tobio-chan is.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Tooru clicks his tongue, pouting at Tobio.
“That’s why I asked.”
“Argh!” Tooru flops onto Tobio’s bed, right next to him. “You’re so annoying. You drive me crazy, you know?”
“ Sorry. ”
“Don’t apologize!”
“I wasn’t actually— ”
“You make me want to scream and pull out my hair.”
“Be my guest,” Tobio rolls his eyes and who taught Tobio-chan sarcasm? They’re making Tooru’s life a lot harder.
“You— !” Tooru stops himself, taking a calming breath. He’s not fourteen of seventeen or even twenty-one anymore. Reverting back to childish tactics like name-calling and pulling faces will just have them running in circles. And Tooru’s tired of running, running after Tobio, running away from him. No more running.
“You asked me what I was going to do earlier,” Tooru turns to look at Tobio, their shoulders pressed against each other, even though Tobio’s bed is spacious enough for them to sit apart. “I’m not going to tell you.”
Tobio scowls for a second and opens his mouth, probably to say some other sarcastic and insolent remark, but Tooru continues.
“I’ll show you instead. Help your under-functioning brain understand better.”
Tobio brows furrow as he turns to look at Tooru properly, “Oikawa-san, what are you even—”
Tooru cuts him off, hand reaching out and squishing Tobio’s cheeks, like he’s been craving to do all day. And maybe for like, the last 12 years. Who’s counting, though?
Tobio stops talking, since it’d probably be kinda hard to do that with Tooru squishing his face like he’s a fish or something. He just stares at Tooru, blinking occasionally. All bright blue eyes, long lashes. Cute nose and soft cheeks. So squishable. And kissable.
Which is exactly what Tooru does. Kiss Tobio, that is.
He loosens his grip on Tobio’s cheeks, thumb and fingers no longer digging so harshly into his skin, and leans forward. He closes his eyes, because he’s not sure if he’s ready to see whatever look Tobio has on his face, and connects their lips.
Tobio does taste sweet, all sugary and soft. Kissing after eating cake is such a good idea.
Tobio kisses him back, lightly, and Tooru shifts closer, his fingers abandoning Tobio’s cheeks and entangling themselves in the hair on the back of Tobio’s head. His hair is soft. Softer than Tooru would have imagined, which is a little unfair because Tooru is supposed to be the one with great hair and—
Focus!! You’re kissing Tobio right now, who cares about your hair!?
Tobio pulls away, their mouths separating with a pop. Tooru opens his eyes, blinking and focusing on Tobio’s face. Tobio’s face that’s flushed a vibrant pink, all the way from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, lips shiny and pinker, hair kinda mussed up from where Tooru’s hand was sitting. He raises a hand to his mouth, embarrassment clearly setting in. It’s so cute. How is Tobio so cute? Tooru wants to squish his cheeks again and then kiss him all over.
“You—” Tobio starts, voice a little hoarse and weak.
“You finally get it now, Tobio?” Tooru leans in closer, so close their noses brush against each other, featherlight touch, “Or do you need another demonstration?”
“I—” This time Tobio is cut off by his phone ringing. It’s a distasteful ringtone, generic and alarm-like. Tooru makes a mental note to get Tobio to change it to something more pleasant-sounding. Or at least get a different ringtone for Tooru’s number, something special and fun, even though Iwa-chan claims no one does that anymore, Lame-kawa!
Tobio shuffles away from Tooru, reaching into his pocket to fish out his phone. He glances at the screen and then at Tooru. Tooru shoots him a pleasant smile. Tobio’s face is unnervingly unreadable as he answers his phone.
Tooru tries to ignore the bubbling anxiety in his stomach, the realization that he just kissed Tobio sinking in. Him! Kissing Tobio! And he liked it. A lot.
Tooru shakes his head, forcing himself not to dwell on that right now, lest he wants to scream into Tobio’s pillow right in front of him.
“Hello?” Tobio speaks into the phone and Tooru is easily distracted by how long Tobio-chan’s fingers look holding the slim device, the way his index finger stretches along the side edge, pinky finger hanging below the bottom, the tilt of his head as he presses the phone to his ear.
“...No,” Tobio says, eyes flitting towards Tooru for a brief moment. Tooru wonders who he’s talking to, what he’s talking about.
“Yeah, okay…” Tobio mutters, his free hand drumming against his thigh. “Okay. See you. Bye-bye.”
Why is Tobio so adorable when he’s talking on the phone? Tooru is filled with the urge to call Tobio-chan right now, even though he’s sitting right next to him, just to hear that cute bye-bye whispered into his own ear.
Tobio ends the call, tossing his phone to the side.
“So…” Tooru says, trying to sound as casual as possible. His eyes flick over to the door, then out the window, and then at Tobio for a brief second, and then back to the window.
Tobio doesn’t say anything, just makes a noncommittal humming sound.
“Who was that?” Tooru asks, stretching his legs out in front of him and hooking his ankles together. “On the phone.”
“Oh,” Tobio clears his throat, “No one. It was nothing.” Tobio fiddles with his phone, tossing it in his hand, catching it between his fingers.
Their eyes meet for a moment and Tobio opens his mouth to say something before snapping it shut. His face flushes again, crimson and carmine staining his cheeks, and Tobio looks away once more. Briefly, his eyes flick towards Tooru before looking downwards again.
Have Tobio’s lashes always been so pretty? Have his lips always been so pink and pouty?
“Um,” Tobio mumbles, clearly struggling to find something to say. Tooru is aptly reminded that conversation is not even close to being one of Tobio’s skills, that this would be a good place for Tooru to interject, probably.
He doesn’t though, since he’s too busy staring at Tobio’s side profile.
“Oikawa-san, I—” Tobio is cut off by the bell ringing, the sound reverberating through the house. Tobio sighs, pushing himself up off the bed, presumably to go answer the door.
Tooru sits there, alone, in Tobio’s room. After a second he gets up and follows Tobio-chan, not wanting to make it look like he’s waiting for Toibo-chan, in Tobio’s bedroom no less.
He’ll just go bother Tobio at the door instead. A much better plan.
“To-bi-o- chan~ ” Tooru sings, skipping to the front door. Tobio shoots Tooru a look before pulling the door open. Tooru steps closer to see who it is as Tobio pulls open the door. “Who is...it…?”
It’s Shoyo. And the cutie manager. Holding a ridiculous amount of gift wrapping and decorations in their arms.
The two of them blink at Tooru, heads turning to Tobio, and then each other. The two let out loud exclamations, realization setting in.
“Oikawa-senpai!”
“G-grand King!”
Tooru cheerfully waves at the two, leaning against Tobio’s shoulder.
Tobio makes a low groaning sound that absolutely does not do things to Tooru. “You two said you’d be here after dinner,” he accuses them.
“We lied!” Shoyo says cheerfully.
“Surprise!” Cutie Manager says, laughing nervously. “W-we can leave, though. If you’re...busy.” Her eyes dart towards Tooru, a pink blush settling on her face.
“Aw, but we’re already here,” Shoyo says, shooting her a pointed look. “Are you gonna let us in or...?” he turns towards Tobio, who for a second looks like he’s not going to let them in.
“Whatever,” Tobio mutters, shrugging Tooru off and letting the pair in.
Well, this should be interesting to say the least.
Turns out Shoyo and Cutie Manager ( Yachi Hitoka, as she nervously introduced herself) came over to wrap up a bunch of gifts for Tobio’s pregnant older sister.
A plausible and realistic reason to be at Tobio’s house.
Tooru’s reason, on the other hand…
“So, how come you’re at Kageyama-kun’s house, Oikawa-senpai?” Shoyo’s got a cheery smile on his face and his tone is light but there’s this look in his eyes. It’s a little unsettling. A lot unsettling. Tooru’s a little scared that Shoyo can read his every thought.
“I ran into him at the store,” Tobio replies for him. They’re all sitting in the living area, where Tooru and Tobio had cake earlier. Tobio sits next to Cutie Manager, helping her wrap presents by providing her pieces of clear tape. Shoyo sits on Tobio’s other side and Tooru across from the three of them.
No matter how you look at it… this is like meeting the in-laws, isn’t it?
“So, you brought him back here,” Shoyo nods his head in understanding.
“What a coincidence,” Cutie Manager hums, scissors gliding skillfully across some polka-dotted wrapping paper.
“It’s a good thing we came over then, right Yacchan?”
“A really good idea, Shoyo-kun.”
“What do you mean?” Tobio asks, head tilted to the side like an innocent kitten.
Tobio, of course, you’re the only one who doesn’t understand what’s happening here… Tooru’s own fault, perhaps, for letting his guard down with Tobio’s easily-charmed mother. Actually, no. He really is that charming. He’ll just have to up his game to win over these two.
“Is this what you got today?” Cutie Manager ignores Tobio’s questioning gaze. She holds up the onesie Tooru had picked up earlier. It’s a baby blue thing, short-sleeves, and a small bird in the centre.
“Mm,” Tobio nods his head in affirmation. “Oikawa-san picked it.”
“Then!” Cutie Manager says, neatly folding the onesie up and placing it into a cardboard gift box. “This one can be from Oikawa-san.”
“I— what?” Tooru splutters.
“You’ll need Miwa-nee to like you somehow,” Shoyo nods.
“...Miwa-nee?” Tooru echoes. Tobio’s older sister, presumably.
“You see,” Cutie Manager smiles sweetly at Tooru, not even looking down as she finishes taping up the gift box containing the onesie Tooru picked out. “Tobio’s mom isn’t the one you have to worry about, Oikawa-san.”
Are you two helping or threatening me?? Tooru wants to cry a little. Here he was, wasting his time thinking about how to charm the wrong people...
“Nee-san doesn’t even know Oikawa-san, though,” Tobio blinks, putting the wrapped gift to the side.
“Do you intend to keep it that way forever?” Cutie Manager asks him and Tobio pauses to think. Tooru would be enraged and offended if Tobio wasn’t looking so adorable right now.
“Ah,” Toibo-chan hums, “I get it now.”
Do you, now? What are you getting, Tobio?
This is what Tooru gets for kissing before DTRing, he’s sure. Karmic punishment.
“Oikawa-san, if you could sign this card, then,” Cutie Manager hands him an empty card with an illustration of a stroller on the front. “There should be pens on the table near the genkan, right?” She looks over to Tobio for confirmation.
“Yeah, I’ll go grab one—” Cutie Manager and Shoyo both latch onto Tobio’s arm before he can even stand up.
“It’s fine! Oikawa-senpai can get it himself. Right?” Shoyo smiles at Tooru. Why bother asking at all if you’re going to look at me like that, Shoyo...
“No problemo~” Tooru sings, bouncing up onto his feet. These two are lucky that Tobio is the most oblivious dumbhead on the planet, because subtlety clearly isn’t in their collective skill set.
He heads out the genkan, debating whether he should listen in to whatever those two are clearly dying to say to Tobio.
If Tooru knew kissing Tobio would lead to all this…well, he’d still do it anyway. To think! He could’ve been kissing Tobio right now if those two nosy birds hadn't interrupted.
Ugh, they’re like two tiny anti-cupids or something.
Tooru pulls open the table’s drawer, grabbing one of the ballpoint pens sitting in there. He wonders what they’re talking about in the living room. It doesn't seem like Shoyo and Cutie Manager are against Tooru and Tobio being...something. But they don’t know what happened earlier, in Tobio’s unsexy bedroom.
Tooru mentally gasps, is Tobio telling them right now? Is he a kiss-and-teller?
Tooru shakes his head, focusing on writing a message to Tobio’s older sister, who according to Cutie Manager is the final boss to defeat before he can woo Tobio’s heart successfully.
Then he realizes he doesn’t know the kanji to Tobio’s sister’s name. Or even what he should be writing. He’s never given anything to a pregnant person before, unless you count when he was a kid and his mom made him give his sister a card and a pacifier to congratulate her.
Tooru sighs, picking up the pen and card and heading back to the living room.
Shoyo and Cutie Manager are both still latched onto Tobio’s arms, quietly and harshly whispering.
“Oikawa-san,” Tobio shakes them off, immediately noticing when Tooru enters the room. Tooru preens at that, warmth flooding his chest.
“Pen acquired,” Tooru announces, sitting down on the floor again. “How should I address your sister? Miwa, right? Miwa nee-chan?”
“No!” Shoyo and Cute Manager both shake their heads, crossing their arms into an ‘x’.
“Definitely not nee-chan ,” Shoyo says gravely.
“Stick with Miwa-san,” Cutie Manager suggests.
“That’s probably best,” Tobio agrees and Tooru liked it a little better when Tobio was clueless as a baby bird.
Tooru smiles stiffly and just hands the paper and pen over to them.
In the end, Cutie Manager and Shoyo end up writing most of the message, debating for a good while about how enthusiastic of a congratulation would be appropriate to write. They hand the card back for Tooru to sign, finally.
“Tobio-chan,” Tooru neatly signs his name at the bottom, “Is your sister really strict about this kind of stuff?” Honorifics and overly-familiar congratulatory messages? Neither of those are something Tobio seemed to be offended by.
“Not really, she doesn't really care about any of that,” Tobio shrugs. “But since it’s... you.. .”
A vague and meaningless explanation to anyone else, but perfectly understood by the four occupants of the room.
Tooru mentally screams at the past-Tobio that lives in his mind, demanding why he never told Tooru about his scary older sister. Tooru definitely would have thought twice about forming a crush on Tobio then.
Okay, that’s a bold-faced lie that even his own mind can’t pretend is true.
Falling for Tobio...whether it’s fate or by his own actions, none of that matters. Because Tooru’s already come this far and if succumbing to the trials of Tobio’s scary older sister is what he needs to get through next, well, Tooru is more than happy to listen to the advice of these little anti-cupids.
“Right. Well, anything else?” Tooru hands the card to Cutie Manager who tapes it onto the top of the gift box.
Shoyo and Cutie Manager lean forward, tilting their heads past Tobio to look at each other. They deliberate for a few moments, a series of silent looks being exchanged between them, before they presumably come to an agreement, sitting facing forwards again. Shoyo and Cutie Manager look at Tooru, pleased smiles on their faces.
Tooru raises an eyebrow at them, drumming his fingers against his cheek. They say nothing, just continue to stare at Tooru like a pair of porcelain dolls you’d see at a creepy antique store.
“Good god!” Tooru huffs after another ten seconds of creepy-doll-staring. “Quit looking at me like that! Ugh, you two and your stupid, big brown eyes.” Like two woodland deers staring right into the depths of Tooru’s soul.
“You have brown eyes too, though, Oikawa-senpai!” Shoyo points out, all jubilant and cheery. “Wow,” Shoyo turns to Tobio, “Do you have a type or something, Yamayama-kun?”
Tobio shoots Shoyo a look and gives him a shove while Tooru’s brain frantically tries to recall the eye colour of every person he’s ever seen interact with Tobio.
Shoyo and Cutie Manager. Glasses-kun, if he’s remembering correctly. Freaking Miya Atsumu. Fucking Ushiwaka.
Tooru looks at Tobio, attempting to convey his desperation with his eyes: Did you have a crush on Ushiwaka, Tobio-chan? Do you think Ushiwaka is handsome?
Tobio isn’t even looking his way, though, too busy arguing with Shoyo, hands grabbing at each other’s hair like an honest-to-god catfight. Iwa-chan would probably deck him right then and there if Tooru ever tried to yank at his hair like that.
“We should be going now,” Cutie Manager says, standing up. Tobio and Shoyo stop their squabbling, turning their heads upwards to look at her.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Shoyo agrees, one hand in Tobio’s hair and the other tangled with one of Tobio’s hands. Tooru’s eye twitches a little. Totally unfair that Shoyo can just do that while Tooru is stuck on the other side of the coffee table, suffering from a Tobio-drought.
“Did your mom make any cake?” Shoyo asks Tobio and Tooru feels a little jealous that Shoyo already knew about Tobio’s secret cake-making mother.
“Mm,” Tobio nods and can they stop touching each other already!? What are you? A couple of voyeurs! Voluptuaries, practically!
Tooru sits there, silently fuming, as Tobio goes and gets some cake for Shoyo and Cutie Manager. He doesn’t even bother to get up and say goodbye when the Anti-Cupid Brigade finally makes their exit, only sending them off with a half-hearted wave and strained smile.
Finally, after an excruciatingly long hour and half, Tooru is alone with Tobio once more.
It’s a bit more nerve-wracking than Tooru had expected.
He sits on the floor, arms crossed over his chest and knee bouncing up and down. When he hears Tobio shut the front door and the soft sounds of his footsteps approaching, Tooru feels as if electricity is coursing through his veins, forcing him to sit upright, straight as a rod. Their eyes lock the moment Tobio comes into view, like two magnets that can’t help but be attracted to each other.
Tobio hesitates at the threshold of the living room, eyes peeling away from Tooru.
“Um…” Tobio clears his throat, words quiet and muddled, “Did you, um…” Tobio trails off, looking off to the side, hands twitching as he nervously plays with his fingers. Tooru remains seated, leaning back and stretching one leg out. He sits leisurely, with an air of nonchalance.
“Hmm? What was that, Tobio-chan?” Tooru asks, inspecting his fingernails on his left hand. Tobio inches closer, slowly and cautiously, until he’s kneeling next to Tooru, barely an arms-width apart. It’d be easy, so very easy, for Tooru to just reach out and snatch Tobio up, right into his arms.
“I— we—” Tobio tries again, only to falter once more.
Tooru spares him a glance through fluttering eyelashes, tilting his head slightly so a piece of his chocolate-brown hair falls right above his eye. Tooru knows he looks ridiculously handsome like this. All alluring doe eyes and soft locks, sweet and charming like honey and chocolate. Tooru’s been called handsome many times before. Handsome, pretty, sexy, charming, a total hottie, a gift from heaven above. Tooru’s heard it all.
And yet, here he is, greedy, filled with ravenous desire, craving to hear such compliments fall out of Tobio’s sweet mouth.
Tooru catches Tobio’s gaze, his flickering eyes locking onto Tooru’s and halting there. Tobio’s nervous, that much is easy to tell. Flushed cheeks and a watery sheen to his eyes, totally flustered and frazzled. It’s adorable. So, so adorable. It makes Tooru’s heart squeeze, makes him want to find out just how pink Tobio’s cheeks can get, see what other nervous habits lie within him.
Sadistic freak, Iwa-chan’s voice echoes in Tooru’s head. And, well, that’s fair, probably.
“Did you need something, Tobio-chan?” Tooru asks, raising an eyebrow at the other boy.
“Oikawa-san…” Tobio says, his voice a soft whine and Tooru just can’t keep up the aloof act any longer.
He grabs Tobio’s hands and pulls in closer, yanking him right into Tooru’s lap, Tobio’s knees resting on either side of the thigh of Tooru’s outstretched leg. Tobio’s face turns a stunning shade of scarlet.
Red really is a good colour on him, Tooru thinks, recalling how the setter looked in his team jersey during the Olympics.
“You’re quite troublesome, Tobio-chan,” Tooru says softly. He cups Tobio’s face in his hands, his palms gently resting against the warm skin of Tobio’s cheeks. Tobio’s so round. And cute. And so squishy. And all Tooru’s.
Tobio hesitantly places his hands on Tooru, one on top of his shoulder and the other near his waist, clutching at the material of Tooru’s pullover.
Tooru pulls Tobio down until their lips meet. Their second kiss is just as sweet as the first.
“Oikawa-san,” Tobio says, a little breathlessly, “I— we. What—”
“Mine.”
“What?” Tobio blinks.
“You’re mine,” Tooru clarifies, pulling Tobio even closer, not wanting to leave even a millimetre of space between them. “And I’m yours. That easy enough for that pretty head of yours to understand, Tobio-chan?”
Tobio opens his mouth before snapping it shut. He makes a little whining noise before burying his face in Tooru’s neck. “...the worst…” Tooru hears him mumble.
“Hmm?” Tooru murmurs, arms wrapping tightly around Tobio’s waist.
“You’re the worst,” Tobio says, louder and clearer this time, pulling back so he can glare at Tooru.
“Am I, now?” Tooru raises his brow, hands sliding down Tobio’s back until they rest low on his waist, right where his hips and thighs meet.
“Mm,” Tobio nods seriously, a pouty scowl on his face. Then he pauses, scowl sliding off his face and that usual blank look replacing it. “Wait.”
“What?” Tooru questions.
“At the store earlier.”
“Yeah?”
“You thought I was having a baby?”
“...”
“You did, ” Tobio says, raising a hand up to his mouth to hide his laughter. That little brat, ugh. “You were jealous, right?”
“Hah. In your dreams!” Tooru glowers at Tobio.
“That’s embarrassing,” Tobio hums.
“You’re embarrassing!” Tooru shrieks.
“You like me,” Tobio states, a cheerful gleam in his eyes, a small smile stretching on his lips.
“What gave it away?” Tooru deadpans, “The kisses or the fact you’re literally sitting on my lap right now?”
“The kissing, mostly,” Tobio replies sincerely. There really is no room in that volleyball-brain of yours to comprehend sarcasm, is there, Tobio-chan…
“Yeah,” Tooru sighs, “I like you. You like me too, right?”
“I’ve always liked you, though,” Tobio says matter-of-factly, eyes round and bright, glimmering with the whole night sky in them.
“You— that—” Tooru struggles to find words, face heating up and probably turning the most mortifying shade of red. “It’s not a competition!”
“I never said it was. But I’d be winning if it were.”
“Would not!”
“Would too.”
“Kiss me again already, you moron.”
Kiss Number Three melt into Number Four, then Five, and Six, and then Tooru can’t even keep track anymore, too busy memorizing every sensation of Tobio pressed up against him, the taste of his mouth, the sweet little sounds he’s making, the feeling of Tobio’s hair beneath his fingers. There’s a million little details involved in kissing Tobio, though, and Tooru can’t keep track of them all. Obviously, the only solution is to kiss Tobio some more. Lots more, preferably. Until Tooru can devour every little bit of Tobio’s body and soul.
After some time, they lay on the floor of Tobio’s living room, pressed up next to each other. Tooru plays with Tobio’s fingers, comparing the younger setter’s hand with his own.
Tobio has lovely hands, prettier than Tooru’s, he will admit with mild jealousy. Tobio’s fingers are thinner, long but not longer than his palms. His nails are neat and clean as always, perfectly rounded and smooth. Tooru stares, memorizing the shape of Tobio’s nail beds, that perfect half-moon of his lunulae. He brushes over the grooves and lines on Tobio’s knuckles, over the veins that protrude on the back of his hands, noting how bluish veins cross over in a x-shape on Tobio’s right hand. He flips them over, looking at the lines of Tobio’s palms, using his index finger to trace over them.
Absent-mindedly, Tooru realizes he should have been home, with groceries, hours ago. Well, surely his mom will understand that Tobio-chan definitely takes precedence over getting some cabbage.
“That tickles,” Tobio says, closing his fist around Tooru’s finger. Tooru peeks up at him. Tobio’s lips are still so pink and a little swollen, his cheeks have a peachy glow to them, making his eyes look even bluer. Tooru pulls his finger free, reaching out to brush aside Tobio’s bangs. His hair’s grown longer, the longest Tooru’s seen since Tobio’s emo-boy cut in high school.
He kinda misses Tobio’s choppier bangs; they made him look more boyish, cheeks even squishier. “You’ll need a haircut soon,” Tooru comments, twirling one bit around his finger.
To his surprise, Tobio laughs a little. It’s a sweet and unexpected sound. Tooru’s heart nearly bursts out of his chest when Tobio turns his head to smile at Tooru.
“You,” Tobio seems to be biting back another laugh. “You really won’t get along with nee-san.”
“...Hm?” The smile Tooru has on makes his cheeks hurt from the strain.
“She keeps telling me to grow it out more,” Tobio explains, running a hand through his hair and shaking it loose, his bangs falling into his eyes once more.
“Tobio-chan…” Tooru warns. “Who are you going to listen to? Your older sister or your beloved boyfriend?”
“Mmm…” Tobio, that brazenly shameless brat, mulls it over. “Well, nee-san is a hairstylist…But I think she’s trying to give me a mullet, so you, I guess.”
“You really had to think about it?” Tooru feels his eyebrow twitch. “Tobio-chan, you dummy! You’re supposed to always pick my side!”
“Shouldn’t I pick whoever’s right?”
“Tobio-chan!”
“Oikawa-san.”
“Right!” Tooru suddenly recalls something, abandoning the previous argument. “You can’t seriously call me ‘Oikawa-san’ still! We’re lovers now, Tobio-chan.”
“You still call me ‘Tobio-chan’ ,” Tobio grumbles.
“That’s the perfect thing to call you!”
“What am I supposed to call you, then?” Tobio huffs and Tooru’s eyes light up, countless suggestions on the tip of his tongue. Tobio beats him to it though. “Oikawa...senpai?” Tobio tries, that emotionless face of confusion staring at Tooru. Tooru stares back.
“Oikawa-senpai,” Tobio tries again.
“...”
“ Senpai, ” Tobio waves a hand in front of Tooru's face. Tooru’s brain wakes up and then he’s pretty sure his whole body cycles through about seven different emotions in the span of two seconds.
“Don’t—” Tooru chokes out, slapping a hand over Tobio’s mouth before he can say any more. “ Stop it. ”
He can feel Tobio pout under his palm.
“Tobio-chan, how can you be so shameless? Don't just say things like that!” Tooru rambles on, feverish. “Have some sense of decorum!”
Tobio pulls Tooru’s hand off his face, “Sense of what? ”
“Oh my god, who raised you?”
“My mom, you met her —”
“Ahhh!” Tooru rolls over onto his back and screams from his belly. A quiet voice in the back of his head, Iwa-chan’s he thinks, reminds him to reign it in since Tobio’s neighbours probably won't appreciate hearing pterodactyl screeches in the mid-afternoon. He faintly hears Tobio sitting up, but Tooru doesn’t look at him yet, throwing his arm over his eyes as he gives himself a minute to calm down and collect himself. Perhaps that self-help book that Makki sent him in jest is actually helping.
“Tobio-chan,” Tooru says, removing his arm and glancing upwards. Whatever words Tooru was about to say are washed away by the ocean currents that are Tobio’s eyes. They stare down at Tooru, deep blue with a glimmer of sunlight reflecting in them. Tobio sits, legs criss-cross-applesauce, resting his cheek on his palm, fingers pushing gently into the skin of his cheek. Tobio’s back is towards the window, making a soft halo glow around him, and Tooru wants to commit the image to memory, to sear it into his mind forever.
“What were we talking about again?” Tooru asks, clearing his throat and sitting up as well.
“You were insulting my mother and her ability to raise me.”
“I was not, ” Tooru cries indignantly. But he catches the small quirk of Tobio’s lips and sees the shining amusement in his eyes.
Ah, so Tobio’s eyes are the key to reading him… Good news for Tooru because staring into Tobio’s eyes might just be his new favourite pastime.
Tooru glances at Tobio and quickly snatches up his hand, intertwining their fingers together before looking away. For once, Tooru doesn’t feel the need to say anything. So neither of them do, content just to sit there, hand-in-hand.
“...Tooru.”
Tooru’s eyes snap back to Tobio but Tobio’s gaze is firmly fixed on their joint hands. He wonders for a moment if he simply dreamt hearing that.
But Tobio says it again, louder and with more conviction, “Tooru.”
“Yes?” He’s never felt this, like this, answering to his own name.
“Since you said I can’t call you Oikawa-senpai—”
“Whoa, I never said you couldn’t , there’s a time and place for everything Tobio-chan—”
“I’ll call you Tooru instead,” Tobio finishes, eyes flickering upwards to meet Tooru’s, a strange mixture of hesitance and determination in Tobio’s eyes.
Oh, Tooru thinks, I love him.
“Oh, my. First name basis with Tobio-chan, how scandalous.”
“Annoying,” Tobio mutters, letting out a long-suffering sigh, which, rude. Tooru blames Iwa-chan. No way Tobio was like this before Iwa-chan became his athletic trainer.
But instead of berating Tobio for his super un-cute remarks, Tooru leans in closer, their knees brushing against each other. He uses his free hand to cup Tobio’s face, tilting their heads closer and closer, and presses a soft kiss to Tobio’s lips. Tobio still tastes like vanilla and he smells like honey and sugar, all ocean blue eyes and inky black hair.
Addicting, Tobio’s so addicting. And Tooru’s going to fall so hard and deep, get sucked right into the whirlpool that is Kageyama Tobio, without any means of escaping.
Tooru doesn’t mind one bit.