Chapter Text
"Oikawa's limping," Watari noted and Hanamaki turned so fast to look at their captain that Matsukawa was positive he must have cracked his neck in the process.
"Shit," tsked Hanamaki, looking around the gym hurriedly to see if anyone else had heard or noticed. Yahaba was talking to the new first years, a bored looking giant and a kid with outrageous hair like an onion. What are they teaching middle schoolers these days, wondered Matsukawa vaguely. His eyes moved over to Oikawa, who was making his way gingerly to the bench (a distinct limp just as Watari had said). Once seated, he gently rearranging his brace, a quick look of pain passing across his normally pristinely placed expression.
"How many late night practices do you think he's been going through," Matsukawa asked.
"I'm not sure, but Iwaizumi said it's because of Kageyama joining the high school circuit," Watari explained. Matsukawa hadn't known Oikawa in middle school, but Iwaizumi had referenced their time in middle school enough for him to put the pieces together. The kid was a genius and nothing rattled their captain like a genius. He'd seen Oikawa overwork himself plenty when it came to that monster on Shiratorizawa's team. A second genius was probably going to be the fastest way to ruin their third year.
"I don't think Vice has noticed," Hanamaki muttered, more to himself than anyone else, though Watari raised his eyebrow confused.
"Why wouldn't you want Iwaiz-" Watari began, but Hanamaki covered his mouth.
"Don't summon him." Too late, Matsukawa thought, spotting Iwaizumi reappearing at the door, his usual passive scowl set in place. It must have been a good discussion with the coach if that was his parting expression. Spotting the general laziness in the gym, he clapped his hands and called, "Let's clean up so we can go home!"
The team scurried to work, picking up stray balls and cleaning the floors. Matsukawa took down the net, rolling it up gently as he watched Iwaizumi out of the corner of his eyes. The ace was surveying the gym as if looking for any out of place balls or team members, but Matsukawa and Hanamaki both knew what he was really looking for- or rather, who.
"Oikawa," Hanamaki said, imitating Iwaizumi's gruff voice quietly so only Matsukawa could hear. "You're the captain, so help out the team, you idiot!"
"Let's go, Oikawa," Iwaizumi called, two volleyballs tucked under his arm. "Get your head out of your ass and help!"
Oikawa jumped slightly in his seat, his hand that was resting on his knee twitched slightly as if he wanted to rub it, but knew he shouldn't with his best friend watching so closely. Matsukawa had the feeling he'd been so deep in thought he hadn't even noticed Iwaizumi enter. Now that he had, Oikawa's expression changed from one of thoughtfulness in to a smirk.
"I'm helping through inspiration, Iwa-chan," Oikawa sighed dramatically, pushing himself up with practiced carelessness. He managed to dodge the volleyball chucked at his head, but just barely. It was amazing he could so flawlessly avoid flinching when he shifted weight like that after the limp they'd seen. Their captains' dedication to a role in action.
"You're off the mark," Matsukawa observed, pulling his attention back to his friend as the other side of the net finally met him. "Usually you guess his insults word for word."
Hanamaki shrugged. "I guess I'm tired."
"Tired?"
"Of this," Hanamaki replied, gesturing to their captain, who was now practically hanging off of their vice-captain.
"Our love birds?"
"Our denial birds."
"A rare breed."
"I wish they'd go extinct."
Matsukawa smirked, handing the net to the onion kid (he needed to learn that kid's name by the start of next week) to put it away in storage. "You're still mad about the end of last year. huh?"
"I lost so much money to Yahaba," Hanamaki snarled, glaring daggers at the pinch-server who was innocently pushing the ball cart into storage and instructing their new first years to change. Yahaba had no idea that he was being murdered slowly by Hanamaki's gaze. Probably for the best. Hanamaki had an intimidating aura when he lost any competition or bet. He had lost spectacularly at the end of last year when he'd bet Yahaba a significant sum that Oikawa and Iwaizumi would admit they had feeling for one another by the end of their weekend trip. Yahaba had disagreed under the belief that (1) they weren't in love and (2) even if they were in love, they weren't going to realize it now, at a cramped beach house with the whole volleyball team. Hanamaki (ever the romantic) had said the joy of Oikawa being named Captain would be enough to propel their confession. Yahaba had laughed so hard he cried (which was a fair reaction, as far as Matsukawa was concerned) because he personally couldn't imagine Oikawa Tooru realizing anything life changing for at least a week after he gained his most recent fixation: Captain. He was one step closer to world domination. Evil masterminds didn't just decide to side-step that for a crush, especially a deeply buried one. The best they saw was Iwaizumi huddled over volleyball strategies as Oikawa talked hurriedly in quiet tones. Sure, they were closer than necessary and yeah, they touched more than they needed to (flu season must be a menace when it hit one of them, that was obvious). That didn't mean any confessions were said and so, Hanamaki admitted defeat.
"Yahaba is basically the next Oikawa, you should have trusted his instincts," Matsukawa reminded him. Hanamaki threw him a glare before shoving his hands into his shorts, in lieu of pockets, pouting as they walked towards the changing room.
"I didn't think they'd be that stupid. For fuck sake, can't they just admit they're in love?"
"What if they're confessing their adoration right now down in the gym and we're missing it," Matsukawa said, holding the door to the changing room open for his friend. Hanamaki huffed.
"Too late. I already lost at least ten allowances."
"Maybe Yahaba's right. Maybe they aren't in love. They're just really close."
Hanamaki hummed in thought as they jumped in the showers. He didn't speak again until they were fully changed. "No way because ever since we went on that trip to the beach they've been way worse," Hanamaki insisted, "I bet when we drop by the gym they'll be making out."
"How many allowances do you want to lose?"
"I hate you with my whole heart, body, and soul."
"Will you forgive me if I buy you a snack?"
"My heart isn't so easily won. Make it two snacks."
"You brute."
They opted to snack while leaning against the convenience store wall, chatting about meaningless ideas: upcoming practices, school work, theories on which of Oikawa's fangirls would lose her marbles and kill them all first- normal talk between two friends. Despite this, Matsukawa knew it was only a matter of time until the issue of the captain and vice came up again. Honestly, Hanamaki was becoming obsessed. Not that Matsukawa could blame his friend. The will they or won't they nature of Oikawa and Iwaizumi's friendship was fun for a few laughs, but after a full two years (and a strong start on a third), the thrill was wearing off. He was starting to think that they ought to lock the two in the storage room and refuse to unlock it until Oikawa and Iwaizumi made out (like those plots in the girly mangas his sister read). Of course, dealing with Iwaizumi after that would be impossible in that a dead man (Matsukawa in this case) can't deal with his murderer (Iwaizumi in this case). Knowing the idiots, they would probably sit stubbornly in the dark closet, bantering and flirting the whole night without ever actually kissing. Infuriatingly and inconsiderately oblivious to the efforts put forward by their friends. Matsukawa was pulled out of his thoughts by a nudge from Hanamaki's elbow. He looked up to see Iwaizumi approaching, talking to the figure he was hauling on his back. The figure became clear as they approached closer: Oikawa Tooru.
"Yahoo~, Makki and Matsun!" Oikawa called waving so excitedly that Iwaizumi nearly lost his balance. He muttered something sharply over his shoulder, which turned Oikawa into a pouting baby. It carried into a whine as he said, "Iwa-chan, that's mean."
"It's true," muttered Iwaizumi darkly as they stopped before Hanamaki and Matsukawa. Matsukawa let his eyes dart to his friend, but Hanamaki had his neutral expression set in place, his eyes roving over the situation before him as Iwaizumi carefully let the captain down.
"Did you take all the milk bread," demanded Oikawa.
"All of it," Hanamaki agreed. "I didn't even eat it, I just threw it away because it's disgusting and you don't deserve it."
"You sound like Iwa-chan," Oikawa replied haughtily, moving into the store. The door made a ding sound as he entered.
"You have a new workout regime," Matsukawa observed. "Is that for the legs, the biceps, or a bit of both?"
Iwaizumi scowled, crossing his arms. "It was the only way I could convince him to leave practice without hitting a hundred more serves."
"If you're looking for a workout, I need to go down that pathway," Matsukawa continued, moving slightly to dodge Iwaizumi's right hook.
"He only carries the captain," Hanamaki reminded him, shooting Iwaizumi a sly look. The scowl didn't change that much, though some pink dusted the edge of Iwaizumi's ears. Clearly disappointed not to get a bigger reaction, Hanamaki added, "All that milk bread makes him the best candidate."
"Speaking of Captain, as we casually are," Matsukawa agreed, also watching Iwaizumi's face. "You figure he's going to actually tell you about his knee in person this time or will we be getting another late night text confession instead?"
"He's not that bad," Iwaizumi muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. Hanamaki's eyebrows raised.
"He's not?"
"No, he told me about it after everyone left. He's going to the doctor soon."
"Soon?"
"He's going to rest it first."
"Thus the piggyback ride."
Iwaizumi hummed in response, looking at his watch, then the door. "What's taking him so long?"
"Have to get home in a hurry," Matsukawa asked.
"I still have to pack. We leave tomorrow morning."
"Leave tomorrow?" Hanamaki asked.
"For the wedding."
"Oh right, your cousin's? Sounds fun," Matsukawa said. "Try not to catch the bouquet, yet. I'm still saving up for a stripper for your bachelor party."
"I thought we agreed Mad Dog would do it," Hanamaki reminded him, digging his hands into his pockets. He looked a bit cold, Matsukawa noted. Probably because he refused to dry his hair properly. Matsukawa took off his hat and placed it on Hanamaki's head without a word. His finger glanced over the salmon locks and he wasn't surprised to feel they were damp. Iwaizumi sighed.
"Hopefully it'll be alright. The bride is from my mom's side of the family. We don't know them as well since a bunch of them live in Tokyo or farther South. I'm sure it'll be a lot of 'Hajime I haven't seen you since you were this tall, do you remember?' My mom keeps going on and on about some distant cousin. Apparently we looked like twins when he was first born."
"Maybe you were separated at birth," offered Matsukawa.
"I think he's younger than me by a year or so."
"Maybe we got the worse twin," Hanamaki gasped, ignoring Iwaizumi's additions. "What else do you know?"
"He plays volleyball somewhere in Tokyo," Iwaizumi offered. "That's it."
"An ace as well," Hanamaki asked.
"No, I think a setter maybe."
"Hmmm, if we get him and keep Iwaizumi we could have a twin thing going on," Hanamaki offered Matsukawa.
"Trade Oikawa then?"
"It's better for aesthetics. Oikawa will understand. Further upside, less time outside of convenience store waiting for Milk Bread Addict Anonymous to finish it's meeting."
"We expect a detailed report so we can make a trade as necessary," Matsukawa told Iwaizumi.
"We'll watch over our little Tooru while you're away," Hanamaki teased. Iwaizumi didn't notice the tone because he was back to peering into the store. He let out a tch sound in annoyance.
"Damn it. The cute store clerk is in. He's gonna take forever."
"Just go ahead," Hanamaki offered. "We'll tell him you left and make sure he doesn't head back to the gym."
"I'll tackle him right at the ankles," offered Matsukawa.
"I'll tickle him until he pees," Hanamaki said, an oddly intimidating shadow crossing his face.
"Until he pees," echoed Matsukawa. Hanamaki nodded to confirm the threat. Iwaizumi paused, considering this idea. Finally he nodded, waving to them as he left. When he was out of sight, Hanamaki and Matsukawa peered back into the store. Oikawa was leaning on one elbow, his best flirtatious smile directed towards the store clerk. She twirled her hair around her finger. Matsukawa figured they had about ten minutes to spare before this routine was up. He glanced back at Hanamaki to see his friend watching him with a devious look.
"Will this be getting us arrested," Matsukawa asked.
"Never."
"Induce any sort of injury?"
"No way."
"Get us mauled by Iwaizumi?"
"Probably not."
"Alright, I'm interested."
"Iwaizumi is gone for this wedding the whole week, right?"
"Right."
"And it's supposed to be some scenic location, probably without much cell reception, right?"
"Right."
"But Oikawa's staying here, right?"
"Are you ever going to explain this plan or is this weird guessing game going to continue?"
"I think this is the week we work on Oikawa."
"We work on him?"
"Yeah, we work on him. They're always together so we never get a chance to try and work on them one on one."
"What does work on them entail?" Hanamaki gave his friend a look. Matsukawa made a noise of understanding before adding. "Ah, to make him realize his buried feelings. You're sure you want to open this up?"
"If nothing happens after this week, I'll admit defeat and let the idiots realize during their midlife crisis they were in love with one another."
"You're a saint," Matsukawa said.
Hanamaki used one hand to fix the hat and the other to knock on the window loudly. The store clerk and Oikawa jumped in surprise, turning to see them at the window. Hanamaki waved, signaling Oikawa to hurry up. Oikawa leaned back, holding out his money to the clerk, an apologetic smile on his face. It sent a blush dashing across the girl's face. Their captain was too good at this sort of thing. Matsukawa couldn't exactly pinpoint why. Probably because so few people knew about his less redeemable qualities. Hanamaki rolled his eyes at the interaction before demanding, "Just keep your eye out for an opportune moment to pounce."
"Yes, dear," Matsukawa agreed.
The opportune moment presented itself just two days later, when Oikawa marched up to them in their usual lunch spot and plopped down dramatically, shoving his phone underneath their noses with a demand of "Who is this?"
"The Queen of England," guessed Matsukawa, pushing the phone further away so he could actually look at it. It seemed to be a slightly pixelated picture. One figure was clearly Iwaizumi, his normal scowl in place, though his blush was evident even through his slight tan. He was leaning forward with his elbows balanced on his knees as he looked up at the camera as if caught off guard. Another boy about the same age was sitting next to him, his arm thrown around Iwaizumi's back and his head resting on Iwaizumi's shoulder. The other figure had messy black hair and dark blue eyes under slightly thick eyebrows. His facial expression seemed neutral enough but he was really pretty. That was the only way to describe him. "What am I looking at here," Matsukawa asked, turning to Hanamaki. "Is this a picture of a picture?"
"Not very aesthetically pleasing," agreed Hanamaki. He turned back to Oikawa. "I'd give up on your dreams to be a photographer."
"It's a picture my mom sent me," Oikawa snapped. "She's not very good with technology."
"She sent you a picture of a picture," Matsukawa clarified, "but you don't know what it is?"
"You're being difficult," Oikawa huffed.
"You're not making it easier, that's for sure."
"That's Iwaizumi," offered Hanamaki, pointing to their ace. Oikawa released an indignant huff.
"I know that, but who is this person he's with and why is he wearing Iwa-chan's jacket?" Matsukawa looked closer and could just barely see Sejoh's colors on the pretty boy's arms. How did Oikawa even see that? He must have been staring at the picture for a while. Matsukawa glanced over to Oikawa again, who was still pouting like a petulant child.
"Where'd your mom get this picture," Hanamaki asked, taking it and peering closer.
"Iwa-chan's mom emailed it to her and she took a picture and sent it to me."
"What did your mom say," Matsukawa asked. "Other than the fact that she doesn't understand how to forward emails?"
"She doesn't know who he is either," Oikawa huffed. "She just said they were both very good looking."
"It's tough when you mom has the hots for your best friend," consoled Hanamaki, handing the phone to Matsukawa. Oikawa practically squawked as he pushed Hanamaki's shoulder. Matsukawa glanced back at the pretty boy, taking in his face and eyebrows again, the neutral scowl (less pronounced then their Iwaizumi, but certainly visible with those eyebrows). Now that he was looking at the pretty man again, the features looked familiar. Maybe it was the messy black hair and eyebrows, but it had an almost familial quality to it. Was this the cousin Iwaizumi had mentioned?
"Dunno," Matsukawa replied with a shrug, handing Oikawa his phone. "He's at a wedding, so maybe it's a co-"
"Maybe it's a cute boyfriend," Hanamaki cut in. Matsukawa nearly choked on his lunch as Oikawa's mouth dropped open in surprise.
"A boyfriend? Iwa-chan's not- he would have told me if he-" Oikawa stuttered. Matsukawa thought he could practically see smoke coming out of his friend's ears. He glanced at Hanamaki. So this was the moment, huh? This was the angle he was going to use? It had a lot of risk, but if Hanamaki wanted to go this way, then he supposed he'd go along.
"Iwaizumi doesn't tell you everything does he," Matsukawa said.
"Practically everything," Oikawa retorted, but he was starting to look less certain. "He'd tell me about dating someone."
"Maybe he was worried you'd react badly to it," offered Matsukawa solemnly. "Like you are now."
Oikawa's eyes widened. "You think it's a boyfriend as well? Down south?"
"Love knows no distance and with phones they could still talk every day," Hanamaki offered.
"You think they talk every day," Oikawa repeated. He was chewing his bottom lip slightly in thought.
"Are you homophobic, Captain," Matsukawa suggested.
"No! Of course not, I just-" Oikawa's sentence drifted off as he looked over the picture again. He gulped before putting the phone into his pocket. He looked up, rearranging his face to look more nonchalant. It seemed to take a painful amount of effort in Matsukawa's opinion. Finally he spoke, not looking at Matsukawa or Hanamaki. "I just didn't know."
"He'll tell us when he's ready," Hanamaki assured him, returning his attention to his bento.
"I'm just glad Iwaizumi was able to get such a good looking man," Matsukawa told Hanamaki, keeping a side-eye on Oikawa.
"Good for him," Hanamaki agreed. "If you're going to do long distance, make it worth it, right?"
"Right," agreed Matsukawa. They looked at Oikawa, who blinked at them as if he were slowly catching up.
"Right," he agreed, but his tone did not sound convincing at all.