Work Text:
“Let’s have sex, Iwa-chan.”
“What?” Iwaizumi splutters. “No. No way. Not happening.”
“Why not? Don’t you think I’m pretty, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa says playfully.
It’s after practice, and the rest of the team has already left, but Oikawa always takes long showers and insists on doing his hair before he’s ready to go home, so they’re always the last ones there. Iwaizumi always waits for him, though he teases Oikawa about his vanity routine.
“We’re not having this discussion,” Iwaizumi says, shoving his now empty water bottle in the bottom of his sports bag.
“Why not? It’s a great idea.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Sure it is.”
“Coming out to you was the worst idea I’ve ever had.”
“Don’t say things like that! Please, Iwa-chan? I’ll be good, I promise.” Oikawa gives himself one more look-over in the mirror, nodding when he decides his hair looks good enough.
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what you tell everyone you sleep with,” Iwaizumi spits.
Oikawa’s face drops from puppy-dog eyes to watery and hurt.
“So mean, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa’s words are familiar, routine, but the tone behind them is different. It’s not just because Iwaizumi has thrown his alleged promiscuity in his face (though that stings, too), but because Oikawa’s been lying.
After every date he goes on, every time he tries to push past the tightness in his chest and the fear that sinks low and heavy in his abdomen, he tells Iwaizumi another lie. ‘She was a great kisser,’ he’d say, or ‘the sex was incredible’ if he had been on more than two or three dates with the girl.
Oikawa has been kissed exactly once—by a very forward second year who basically just planted one on him—and it felt weird and wrong and out of place. He tells himself it was just that girl he wasn’t into, so he keeps going on dates, keeps accepting confessions, but whenever the girl tries to make something happen, he pulls away.
He’s not really sure why the girls never turn on him, spreading rumors or calling him a tease or a useless flirt or something. They all just seem to think his refusal to sleep with them is because he’s being a gentleman, and they fawn over him even more.
Iwaizumi looks guilty after his comment, shuffling his feet and rubbing the back of his neck like it will erase the tension between them.
“We could at least make out,” Oikawa grumbles after a minute.
“Yeah, alright.”
“Wait, really?” Oikawa asks, perking up.
“Get over here before I change my mind, Trashykawa,” he says affectionately. Iwaizumi leans against the wall, kicking his bag out of the way. Oikawa rushes over to stand between his legs, hands clamping onto Iwaizumi’s hips, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips.
“Are you ready, Iwa-chan?” he asks.
“Just fucking do it,” Iwaizumi sighs.
After a beat, Oikawa’s fingers tighten on Iwaizumi’s hips, and then he’s crushing his lips to his best friend’s mouth.
Literally, crushing them.
The kiss is stiff-lipped and unpleasant, and when Iwaizumi shoves Oikawa off of him, the setter’s eyes are screwed shut and he looks like he’s in pain.
Iwaizumi laughs. “Do the girls you date actually like that?”
Iwaizumi still thinks that Oikawa is a regular Casanova, seducing an alarming amount of Seijoh’s female population. Oikawa should probably fess up to that, but he doesn’t want to be teased.
“Iwa-chan, I need to tell you something,” he says, blushing with guilt.
“Is it about how you’re an awful kisser? Because trust me, I know.”
“No, it’s—well kind of. I um… I haven’t actually kissed all those girls. Or slept with them. Any of them.”
“You lying piece of shit,” Iwaizumi hisses, shoving at Oikawa. The setter doesn’t resist, just lets himself be pushed back. Oikawa would rather face Iwaizumi’s anger than mockery right now, anyway. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I was embarrassed!” he cried, tears welling in his eyes. He blinked hard, willing them to disappear. “I’m beautiful and charming so girls like me a lot but when it comes down to actually doing anything with them, I panic.” Oikawa stares at his feet, picking at a loose thread on his waistband.
“Why the fuck would you lie about though?” Iwaizumi asks, angry. “I get that you wanted to have your stupid reputation or whatever, but why would you lie to me? Fuck, Tooru, we’re supposed to be best friends!”
There were two reasons (well, there used to be three) Iwaizumi called Oikawa by his given name: 1) when he was sleep-talking, and 2) when he was so angry that he didn’t think any other form of name-calling would get through all the hair-product layered on his thick-skull. (The third reason was that they were in grade school and best friends. Of course Hajime had called him Tooru. Oikawa misses it, hates how Iwaizumi has weaponized his name.)
“There’s… there’s something wrong with me,” Oikawa chokes out, and he’s scared, he’s so scared.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I can’t… I can’t do it. My body won’t… listen. I’m supposed to want girls like that, but I don’t. I guess. I mean, I’ve tried. But I couldn’t…”
It’s rare for Oikawa not to have the words he needed. Not in the way that he never shuts up, but in that he’s used to being able to express himself well.
Iwaizumi senses his friend’s discomfort, gives him time to collect his thoughts.
When Oikawa still won’t speak, Iwaizumi clears his throat.
“There’s nothing wrong with not liking girls,” he says quietly.
Oikawa sniffs, rubs at the tear-tracks on his cheeks. “Let me try again.”
“Okay,” Iwaizumi agrees. He takes Oikawa’s face in his hands, trying to guide him a little better.
Iwaizumi’s only kissed two people, but he’d like to think that he’s not completely useless at it like Oikawa is.
For once, he gets to teach his friend something. It’s kind of nice.
Oikawa screws his face up again when their lips brush, so Iwaizumi pulls back and tells him to relax.
“It’s not gonna be any good if you’re all tense. Just… relax.”
Oikawa tries, he really does, but he’s nervous.
What if this doesn’t work? What if he can’t get it up now, either?
He’s a healthy teenage boy. He’s supposed to want to have sex. Clearly, it isn’t working out with girls, so he just needs to try something different. Iwa-chan is good looking, bisexual, and his best friend. Why shouldn’t he want to have sex with him?
But even after Oikawa gets the hang of kissing—lips looser, movements softer—he’s not feeling anything yet.
When is it supposed to kick in? Shouldn’t he be feeling something by now? Some stirring in his nether-regions?
Iwaizumi is getting more into it now, mouthing along Oikawa’s jaw, down his neck a little bit. His hands are all over Oikawa, roaming over his back, dipping lower and lower. Oikawa starts to worry; clearly Iwaizumi is feeling it.
The first time Iwaizumi’s hips roll into Oikawa’s, he lets out a surprised gasp. Iwaizumi seems to take it as encouragement, so he does it again, a quiet half-moan falling from his lips.
Oikawa is uncomfortable.
The kissing is nice—really nice. He likes the way Iwaizumi’s lips are a little dry, but they’re soft and the way they move across his skin is electrifying.
He likes Iwaizumi’s hands, the way his fingertips trail across his skin, just a hint of his nails as he hikes up the hem of Oikawa’s t-shirt. His hands are hot and calloused and they feel so nice.
But when he feels Iwaizumi against him, half hard and looking for more friction, he is uncomfortable.
He decides to give it another couple of minutes, to see if it gets better.
Trying to focus on the parts he likes, Oikawa pays more attention to the things Iwaizumi’s mouth is doing to his own. He feels the gently push of Hajime’s tongue, and tries to mimic the action as best he can. They establish a nice rhythm of push and pull; Iwaizumi kisses him, does something with his tongue that sends a shiver down Tooru’s spine, and then Oikawa tries it back.
He might not be as good as Iwaizumi, but clearly he’s doing something right, as his friend’s soft moans turn needier, get louder.
Oh. Right.
Iwaizumi is hard.
But they’re in the clubroom, and Oikawa thinks things were much nice when he ignored Iwaizumi’s lower half, and he’s realizing it’s not boys either. It’s him. Something’s wrong.
He doesn’t want to have sex.
He needs to speak up.
When Iwaizumi moves off his mouth to suck a mark into Oikawa’s neck, he takes a shaky breath.
“Iwa-chan,” he starts.
“Mm,” comes the reply, acknowledging he’d been heard, but not meriting a pause in the kissing.
“I… I think I changed my mind.”
Iwaizumi stops immediately, pulling off of Oikawa’s neck, putting some distance between their hips, and Oikawa bites his lip, unsure of what or how much he needs to say.
“Uh…” Iwaizumi says, breathing a little hard. “Can you give me a little more info?”
“I don’t want to have sex,” he says in a rush.
Iwaizumi closes his eyes for a moment and lets out a long sigh. He looks like he wants to say something, but he’s not sure what. Oikawa decides he should probably speak up so Iwa-chan doesn’t think Oikawa was just playing him or something.
“The kissing was … amazing,” he says, “I liked it. I liked kissing you. But,” he bites his lip again, chewing it over while he gathers his words, “I don’t think I want sex. It felt … it felt weird. That you were…”
His eyes dart to Iwaizumi’s crotch.
Hajime huffs out a little laugh, but his eyes are sad.
“I’m sorry,” Oikawa says. He means it. He really is sorry. He wanted to do this, he wanted to be normal. It’s not that he isn’t ready, wants more time: he honestly doesn’t see the appeal in it at all.
He doesn’t get aroused thinking about girls (or boys) and he masturbates only when he feels like it (not very often). It feels a bit like a chore, if he’s honest, but it’s like washing behind your ears: it’s just sort of something you do.
Hajime holds him, strokes his hair gently, while Tooru tries not to cry about how stupid he feels.
There’s something wrong with him.
…
Oikawa is skilled enough at feigning happiness that he does so quite convincingly in front of the team.
He leads practices and drills just like always; he compliments his teammates when they do well, and mocks them like a kindergartener when they mess up.
He knows that Iwaizumi can tell he’s not actually as cheerful as he lets on, but Tooru’s way of dealing with this fear that he is wrong is to not deal with it at all.
Maybe he’s just too caught up on it: he’s obsessing over the fact that he’s never felt sexual attraction. He’s just a late bloomer, like his sister said.
There’s nothing wrong with him.
When he calls for the end of practice, the first and second years clean up the balls and the nets, storing them neatly in the closet of the gymnasium.
Everyone else takes their shower—laughing and joking and teasing and whining about homework—and goes home to do said homework.
As usual, Oikawa takes his time in the shower, styles his hair just so, humming distractedly while he wraps a curl around his finger trying to make it sit how he wants it to.
“You about done, Divakawa?” Iwaizumi asks with a smirk.
“Yes, dear, just let me grab my bag,” he says, nodding to himself in the mirror.
Oikawa slings the bag over his shoulder and heads for the clubroom door. Iwaizumi reaches for the handle like always, but he pauses.
“Forget something?” Oikawa asks.
The look on Hajime’s face tells him that’s not the problem.
Please don’t bring it up, please don’t bring it up, Oikawa chants in his mind, trying desperately to keep that stupid fake smile on his face even though he knows it’s not fooling his best friend.
“About last week,” Iwaizumi starts.
“Don’t worry about it,” Oikawa says, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ve already forgotten all about it.”
“I seem to remember making my stance on you lying to my face quite clear,” he growls.
The plastic smile on Oikawa’s face crumbles completely. “Fine, I haven’t forgotten yet, but I’m trying to.”
“How about instead of wallowing around in your misery you actually do something about it?”
“What do you think last week was?”
“Not that kind of doing something about it, Stupidkawa,” Iwaizumi says patiently. “I um…” he rummages in his bag, pulling out a handful of crinkled papers. “I did some reading. For you. Since you’re too lazy to do it yourself.”
“What kind of reading?”
Iwaizumi shoves the printouts at Oikawa, scratching his cheek as the setter scans over the article titles.
“ ‘About Asexuality’?” Oikawa questions, arching an eyebrow. He flips to the next article. “ ‘The Spectrum of Sexuality’? ‘ When You Don’t Have a Kinsey Number’? What the hell is a Kinsey number?”
“It’s um… it’s like for if you’re gay or straight. But most people aren’t just one or the other, they kind of fall somewhere in between? Like me. Since I’m bi,” he says the last part quietly, still a little shy about it, but he tries to put on a brave face for his friend.
Oikawa really appreciates it.
“Why wouldn’t I have a Kinsey number though?” Oikawa asks. “I mean, what does that…”
“I don’t know exactly what you’re feeling but just… everything you’ve told me and from what I’ve picked up on my own, it sounds like you in these articles. So I thought maybe you could look at them. See what you thought. Maybe it’d help you sort things out, since you’re clearly doing a shit job of it on your own.”
“Am not!” Oikawa says defensively, but he knows it’s true.
Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, asshole. Look, I can’t decide any of this for you, but just read the damn articles, okay? And … talk to me. If you want. About any of it. Okay?”
“Iwa-chan thinks he has all the answers,” Oikawa complains half-heartedly.
“Read the articles, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi says, ruffling Tooru’s hair.
He opens the clubroom door, and with a sarcastic bow, follows Oikawa outside.
…
Oikawa reads both articles four times, and then he starts up his own internet search. He finds all kinds of things, but the more he learns, the more he thinks Hajime has a point. This does sound like him.
He also reads about the difference between romantic and sexual attraction, and he feels another rush of relief. It’s normal that he wants to date and kiss and hold hands, even though he doesn’t want to have sex.
It’s normal.
That night, tucked under the covers with the glow of his phone, he sends a text to his best friend.
Thank you.
Iwaizumi’s response comes a few minutes later.
Go to sleep, Shittykawa.
…
They don’t talk about it for a couple of weeks. Oikawa tells himself in the mirror every morning that it’s normal, he’s normal, and it’s fine. He decides that he’s biromantic and asexual. It’s as simple as that.
When it feels natural enough, so he can say it with his usual smile and a twinkle in his eye, he decides to tell Iwaizumi.
They’re eating lunch outside, because it’s warm and sunny and why not, and a group of shy girls is whispering behind their hands and giggling at Oikawa.
Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “You going to do something about that?” he asks, jerking a thumb in the girls’ direction.
“Hmm, not now. I have something important to tell you,” Oikawa says, putting his bento down.
“Is this about my hairstyle again? Because I told you I’m not doing anything stupid to my hair.”
“Not everything is about you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa smirks. “No, I want to tell you that I’ve made a big decision.”
“You’re going to go blond,” Iwaizumi guesses.
“Ack! I would look terrible blond. Be serious, Iwa-chan.”
“You decided to stop rotting your teeth out with all those sweets.”
“Never,” Oikawa deadpans. “Clearly, I’ll have to just tell you, since you’re so awful at guessing.”
“The suspense is killing me,” Iwaizumi says dryly, stuffing rice in his mouth.
“I’m biromantic asexual,” Oikawa says. It come out a little more forcefully than when he had practiced in the mirror at home. He wants it to sound light and airy. He wants it to sound easy.
Iwaizumi stops chewing the rice in his mouth for a moment, until he realizes he should probably hurry up and swallow so he can respond. “I’m glad you’re figuring things out,” he says honestly.
“It’s all thanks to Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, his voice a little breathy.
“So now that you’ve figured out where you stand a little, what does that mean for your adoring fans?” Iwaizumi asks carefully. He’s proud of Oikawa, really he is, but he knows that things will not magically be okay just because he’s found a label that feels right.
“I have one adoring fan in mind,” Oikawa says coyly. He plucks an onion out of Iwaizumi’s bento.
Iwaizumi frowns. “Oi, I like the onions.”
“I know you do,” Oikawa says as he pops another one in his mouth.
“Shittykawa! Eat your own lunch!” Iwaizumi says, smacking Oikawa’s chopsticks out of the way.
“You’re not going to ask me which adoring fan?” Oikawa pouts.
“Does it really matter?”
Oikawa beams. “Of course!”
“Well you may as well just tell me, since I’m never going to guess out of the sea of girls who are always clattering for your attention.”
“Ah, but you’re forgetting a key part of my decision. Biromantic. And there’s only one boy who counts as my adoring fan.”
“Isn’t Kindaichi a little young for you?”
Oikawa gapes at Iwaizumi. “Turnip-kun? Iwa-chan, do you know me at all?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Iwaizumi shoots back. They lock gazes for a moment, testing to see who will crack first.
It’s Oikawa.
“It’s … it’s you, Iwa-chan. If you’ll have me,” he adds, quietly.
Iwaizumi’s not used to seeing his best friend act so shy, but Iwaizumi’s glad that Tooru is as transparent as glass. He figures if he had been shocked or caught off-guard by Oikawa’s confession, it would’ve been harder to give the answer he needed to.
“What is this ‘if you’ll have me’ crap?” he asks gently. “You think I’d have made out with you if I wouldn’t ‘have’ you?”
“Taking me up on an offer to make-out isn’t the same as wanting to be my boyfriend.”
“Fair point. But—and if you tell anyone on the team I will make your life the most almighty hell you can imagine—I love you, so…” he trails off, leans in to kiss Tooru.
Oikawa pulls back. “So…?” he prompts, batting his eyelashes.
“What else do you want me to say?” Iwaizumi gripes.
“Say you’ll be my boyfriend.”
Hajime sighs. “I tell you I love you, and you want me to say that?”
“I already know that you love me,” Oikawa says smugly. “Well, maybe I didn’t know romantically, but you’ve loved me for a long time. Just like I’ve loved you for a long time. But I don’t think I’ve ever heard Iwa-chan say ‘boyfriend.’”
“Fine. I’ll be your shitty boyfriend,” he says, and leans in again.
“Ah-ah,” Oikawa scolds, putting firm hands on Iwaizumi’s shoulders to stop any further kiss-advancement. “Say it nicely! I don’t want a shitty boyfriend, I want an Iwa-chan boyfriend. Oh! A Hajime boyfriend.”
“How about a Tooru early grave, you sack of shit?” Iwaizumi teases.
“Iwa-chan~,” he whines, bouncing a little like a kid who didn’t get the ice-cream flavor he wanted.
“Alright, alright. I’ll be your boyfriend. Now kiss me already.”
Oikawa’s face breaks into a ridiculous smile, and Iwaizumi kisses the smirk right off of him.
…
It takes some navigating, and a different type of communication than they’re used to, but after a month of dating, Iwaizumi and Oikawa find their rhythm.
They figure out how much making out Iwaizumi can handle before he needs to cool down, before he gets too hard or too handsy (or both) and overwhelms Oikawa.
They figure out where Tooru likes to be touched versus where he likes to touch Hajime, and they also find out where Oikawa should never ever touch Iwaizumi again if he wants to live. (Iwaizumi denies being ticklish.)
They figure out the best way to hold hands, to hug, to show affection in a million different ways through a million little touches.
They figure out how to tell their team and their parents (no one is surprised, and they take it quietly but well). At Oikawa’s insistence, they also tell Kageyama. Iwaizumi insists that it’s childish and stupid to go rub their relationship in their kouhai’s face, but he goes with Tooru anyway, fingers locked so he can give a warning squeeze when Oikawa starts to push too far.
The fangirls still swoon over the setter when he flashes a dazzling smile and a peace sign at them, but they give him more space. They respect him, Oikawa thinks, and he feels a swell of pride that he hasn’t really lost any popularity by dating his best friend.
He doesn’t tell others that he’s asexual—he figures that’s his business, who and what he is or isn’t doing—but it doesn’t matter that they don’t know.
He knows, and he feels a pleasant warmth in his chest when he thinks about how right the term feels to him.
He knows, and Hajime knows, and those are the most important things in his life right now.
Oh yeah: and volleyball.