Archive of Our Own ^beta

Oikawa might be drunk right now. 

He tries to pour himself one more glass of the delicious fruity punch, only for half of the ladle to make it onto the table. Okay, he’s definitely drunk, but who cares?

He has a solo cup half-full of punch, an outfit he knows he looks incredible in, and enough confidence to know he’s not going home alone tonight. Just as he turns away from the table, a familiar beat starts to shake the room, he recognizes the first notes of Voulez-Vous and quickly scans over the crowd to find Suga— ABBA is their shit. 

He whirls around, trying to spot a tall head of silver hair, but there are a lot of people in the room, and turning around isn’t such a good idea when his feet aren’t working too well. As to be expected, he trips on his own foot and barrels into a stranger a second later. 

Here goes his beloved half-glass of fruity punch, he pouts down at the sacred nectar of the gods now spilled onto the filthy ground. 

When he looks back up, the words are out of his mouth before he registers who he’s talking to, “My drink.” Oikawa whines, pouts harder, just to make the stranger feel terrible. “You spilled my drink.”

Except the stranger doesn’t look sad or embarrassed, he seems downright pissed and he responds with a sneer Oikawa shouldn’t be describing as attractive in his mind. “You spilled your own drink you dumbass, and all over my shoes.”

He looks back down and finds that, yes, the nice white sneakers are indeed tinted orange. Oops. But also looking down allows him to rake his eyes over the body he is still standing way too close to and a new information spouted in Oikawa’s drunken mind: the angry stranger is hot.

ABBA is still blasting through the speakers, the rhythm begging him to move as the whole room jumps around them, Oikawa grabs the guy’s bicep, using the music as an excuse to lean down and talk in his ear. “I’m very sorry dear, I got distracted by ABBA.” 

Before he can get out his line about going somewhere quieter to help wash the shoes he just stained — as if Oikawa would ever get close to those — the stranger is looking back up at him, straight in the eye and with a frown so sexy Oikawa’s words get stuck in his throat. They’re very close and surely if the guy was straight he would have taken at least three steps back by now, but this one stays close.

Strong, simple yet good fashion sense, a jaw to die for, but especially an attitude Oikawa couldn’t wait to break — could this guy get any hotter?

But then the guy says, words thrown inches away from his face, “What the fuck is ABBA?”

And Oikawa isn’t even acting this time when he gasps. 

Okay so maybe that guy wasn’t that hot, maybe he was ugly, ugly and dumb and awful.

He can’t help it, Oikawa pulls back, his flirting smile slipping off his face, “Are you serious right now?”

The music is still going strong, and of course the whole room is singing along to every word because they’re college students and this is ABBA. 

Hot Stranger doesn’t look like he’s joking or even amused, he actually looks somehow angrier, tugging his arm off Oikawa’s grip a little too late to be taken seriously. “Do I look like I’m joking, asshole?”

He looks so furious, probably because Oikawa is a hundred percent judging him, and the latter kind of wants to see him get even more worked up— maybe he’ll slam him against a wall or they’ll have hate sex. 

With that in mind, Oikawa purposely laughs right in the guy’s face. “Oh my god, you’re so clueless, it’s cute.”

That’s the wrong thing to say (or maybe exactly the right one) because now the guy is turning his whole body towards Oikawa, somehow towering over him even with his shorter body, hands curling into fists by his sides. 

“What the fuck did you just say?”

He’s so feisty, Oikawa smiles bigger, takes a step forward so they’re a hair width apart instead of cowering back like the stranger probably expects him to. 

See that’s why he needs Suga or Atsumu to keep him in check, he might get punched in the face any minute by the look of it, but he can’t get himself to back down. 

He cocks his head at the little dude, “I said you were cute babe, you like hearing it that much you want me to say it a third time?”

Hot Stranger is distraught, lost for a second as his eyes dart in between Oikawa’s eyes, his lips, his pointy nose — either they’re going to fight or make out. Oikawa really hopes it’s the second one but he could make the first option work, probably, somehow.

But then the stranger averts his eyes, clicks his tongue loud enough for Oikawa to hear over the music, which is now some pop song he can’t name— dang it, he missed his chance to sing at the top of his lungs with Suga all because of a clueless jock who doesn’t know his classics.

“Get out of my way.” The jock says, shoving past him. Okay so, no kissing? “You’re getting on my nerves.”

Oikawa lets him go, because he’s not a jerk and recognizes boundaries, but he still calls over his shoulder. “I’d get on much more if you’d let me.” 

The guy freezes for a second, Oikawa smirks as the way his shoulders tense, but then he’s moving again, sneaking past people to disappear into the crowd.

What a waste of such a great ass.

-

“He was so hot, Suga, so, so hot.” Oikawa whines, wrapped all over his friend’s side on the sticky couch they’re sitting on. “And all angry and cute.”

“Then what’s wrong? Was he straight?” Sugar asks, playing with Oikawa’s hair, the touch comforting.

“I don’t think so.” He mumbles as he recalls the way Hot Dumb Stranger stared at his lips a little too long. “But Suga, he didn’t even know what ABBA was.”

His friend laughs, chest rumbling under Oikawa’s cheek. “Tooru, babe, that’s where you draw the line?” Oikawa lifts his head to frown at him. “You went back to that guy’s place, the one who asked to take a picture of your feet, but you’re drawing the line at not knowing ABBA?”

Of course when he puts it like this it sounds bad. Oikawa rolls his eyes, he wasn’t one to kink shame, he was, on the other hand, about to shame Angry Lame Stranger.

“Yes.” He nods determinedly. “Yes, that’s where I draw the line.”

“You’re so weird.” Suga giggles. “Guess you’ll just have to educate the guy then.”

It’s obviously a joke but it’s like a bulb just went on  into Oikawa’s mind because doesn’t that just sound like a great idea?

-

Daichi is diligently following Noya around, getting introduced to a hundred people and offering a friendly smile back every time. He doesn’t actually hear half of the names, the others he forgets as soon as he gets them unless he recognizes the person from class or something. Noya doesn’t mind, probably isn’t even aware of it as he’s yapping about all his friends and Daichi is happy to pretend he’s interested. 

It’s okay though, the only reason he even made it to the party is because he promised Asahi he would come and also because Iwaizumi would never socialize if he didn’t drag him along to these kinds of things. Though when he scans the room and spots his roommate, Iwaizumi seems to be okay, talking with a pretty girl in a corner, another one laughing to his left.

He lets Noya drag him yet to another group of people, barely listens as his friend introduces, “So this is Suga, Oikawa, Akaashi and Bokuto.”

Daichi turns around, a genuine grin on his face when he sees Asahi right here in the circle but then his greeting gets stuck pathetically in his throat, and he really wished he paid attention to those introductions a second ago. 

What name did Noya say? He didn’t even hear, the music too loud, how was he supposed to learn the name of the stupidly cute guy grinning so sweetly at him now? He knows this guy, he was one of his classmates in his engineering class, Daichi had noticed him on the very first day of the semester.

The sudden arm of Noya around his shoulders shakes Daichi out of it, especially when he’s forcefully dragged down by his shorter friend. “And this is Daichi guys, be nice to him, he’s the best.”

Then Asahi is walking over, gently praying his boyfriend away from where he’s hanging off Daichi’s shoulder. “Hey, glad you could make it, was starting to wonder if you were coming.”

“Your boyfriend literally snatched me as I walked in, he didn’t let me find you.” Daichi explains truthfully, Noya already distracted by a dance battle happening in the next room. Asahi nudges him towards the room and his boyfriend is off, dashing away with a promise to be right back.

“You came by yourself?”

“No, Iwaizumi’s over there.” He turns to where he spotted him earlier to find a third girl joined the party, her hand on his bicep. 

Asahi takes in the scene, eyebrows raising slightly. “Wow, he really does have a fan club everywhere he goes, uh?”

That seems to grab the attention of the two other guys standing there, they both turn to the scene and the taller one scoffs once he sees what the ruckus is about. “You call that a fan club? Please, I have more people waiting for me every morning at the gate.” 

Daichi wonders if that’s really something to be proud about right as his beautiful alas anonymous classmate answers, “Stop being so jealous Oikawa, you’ll get wrinkles.” 

He smooths his friend’s frown with slender fingers. 

Oikawa mock gasps at him, gently slaps his hand away. “Me? Jealous? What is there to be jealous of anyway? Come on honey, don’t be ridiculous.”

And really? Couldn’t he use the angel’s name instead of a pet name? 

Now it was too late for Daichi to ask without seeming rude, but maybe the way he was staring at the guy’s exposed stomach was already rude? How come Daichi never cared much about crop tops but suddenly he finds himself having to avert his eyes when the guy in front of him is wearing one?

Oh boy he was so fucked.

-

“That Daichi guy can’t take his eyes off you.”

Suga hides a smile by looking down at his cup, whispering back, “I know.”

“He’s cute.” Oikawa offers, even if he only remembers the guy’s name because he learned he was friends with the Uncultured Hot Guy a minute ago. “You know him?”

“He is in one of my classes.” As Suga confirms, Oikawa can spot a blush high on his cheeks, it might be from the alcohol. “And Asahi told me about him, he’s apparently super sweet.”

“Hm, nice and sweet — boring.” He sings songs, Suga elbows him hard in the ribs and Oikawa chokes out a laugh, pretending it doesn’t hurt. 

They both expertly avert their eyes when Daichi and a few others turned to them at the noise, pretending to be deep in conversation about something else. When everybody turns away again, Suga’s eyes go right back to Daichi’s back and he smiles into his cup.

 “Shut up, I like him.” 

Oikawa scoffs, “You haven’t even talked to him.”

His friend shrugs, turns to him with a mischievous smirk, “Who said anything about talking?”

Oikawa lets his eyebrows disappear under his hair, alright then.

-

Daichi doesn’t interact more with his angel that night after the group spreads out, more people joining into conversations from every side; Daichi keeps sneaking glances at him like he always does, but he’s pretty sure he hasn’t been caught thanks to the low lights. And by the time Daichi is drunk enough to maybe work up the courage to ask the guy if he can touch his hair, Iwaizumi needs to be escorted home.

 So he doesn’t learn his pretty classmate’s name that night and when he tries to ask Noya about it the next day, his extremely hungover friend asks him who exactly is he talking about, they were dozens of people at that party — which, fair enough. But Daichi feels like when he says ‘the prettiest one’, Noya should know who he is referring to.

Instead the shorter guy scoffs and says the prettiest guy at the party was his boyfriend. Really not a big help.

He could ask Asahi but then Asahi would know, and everybody knew Asahi couldn’t keep a secret no matter how hard he was genuinely trying to.

And so it’s official he’s fucked.

-

The next time he sees his angel again outside of an amphitheater that seems impossible to cross, it’s at a frat party on the far end of campus he nearly didn’t go to. 

When he spots the silver hair, the slender figure and pretty eyelashes, his heart squeezes. And when he shamelessly dances his eyes over the lithe body to find long legs exposed by a skirt, he stops dead in his tracks — Iwaizumi bumps into him with an annoyed groan.

“What the fuck are you—“ He takes in Daichi’s reddening face, follows his gaze and his scowl softens. “Oh.” Then he turns to his roommate. “That’s the guy you’ve been whining about?”

Daichi snaps his eyes back to him. “I don’t whine.”

“Fine. “ A very rude eye roll. “That’s the guy you’ve been talking my ear off about for weeks then.”

Iwaizumi was exaggerating, Daichi might have mentioned him once or twice, but he couldn’t do much more than that anyway since he didn’t know anything about the guy, not even his name. Daichi rolls his eyes back, is ready to point out how much of a drama queen his friend is being but before he can, he’s stumbling, being pushed forward by very strong arms.

“Wha- what are you doing?” He asks, tone somewhat panicked as he glances over his shoulder at Iwaizumi’s determined face.

“I’m helping your sorry ass.” 

Daichi plants his feet onto the ground, thankfully his crush is too far to hear or see the spectacle they’re putting on. “Hajime, don’t—“

They wrestle among the crowd for a few seconds, grabbing bystanders’ attention before Iwaizumi somehow wins with a dirty trick and the next thing he knows, Daichi is tripping forward, landing right next to his oh so beautiful classmate.

The angel startles at the sudden presence to his left, and when he turns to Daichi with wide eyes, the latter tries not to look as freaked out as he feels. It’s a bigger house and the music isn’t as loud in this room so he can distinctly hear his roommate snicker in his back.

He’s going to kill Iwaizumi.

He’ll get his revenge, he doesn’t know how or when, but he will.

“Oh.” His crush says, a smile blossoming on his lips when he seems to recognize Daichi. “Hi.”

Oh god, his voice is so nice. 

He’s distracted, that’s why he sounds breathless when he gets out a little, “Hi.”

The conversation his classmate was being a part of forgotten, the latter turning his full attention to Daichi. The literal angel holds his cup by the rim, close to his chest covered by a very very tight lilac turtleneck and Daichi is so enamored he nearly doesn’t hear him when he talks again. “Daichi, right?”

Daichi wants to turn around, wants to spot his friend in the crowd and happily yell: he remembers my name! But he nods instead, mind going a thousand miles a minute. 

“Yes.” Then he nods again, uselessly. “Yes and you’re…“ 

Oh god. Oh no. What an idiot, why would he start his sentence like this, now it was obvious he didn’t know the guy’s name, why? God, why? 

“Uh, hm…” 

His crush’s smile becomes lopsided and he ducks his head to look at Daichi through his eyelashes, Daichi might very well die. 

“Suga.” That was literally the prettiest name ever. “You can call me Suga.”

Daichi nods, again, and tries not to think of the different way he could be using this name later tonight. Then Suga smirks, “Try not to forget it this time.”

“I didn’t—“ He immediately says, then curses himself as his classmate lifts an amused brow. He was making a fool of himself with every sentence coming out of his stupid mouth, wasn’t he? “I didn’t forget it, I just didn’t catch it the first time.”

“Oh alright—“

“I’d never forget your name.” 

Why? Why couldn’t he just shut up after his perfectly normal explanation? Why did he have to go and make it creepy?

Thankfully — or maybe it’s just a sign the guy is weird and Daichi should be scared — Suga doesn’t seem fazed, he just cocks his head, a very endearing smile on his face. 

“That’s a bold claim you’re making.” Then he gives Daichi’s body a very obvious once over that does funny things to his stomach. “Guess I’ll have to stick around and see if you’re serious.”

When did it become so hard to swallow? Daichi should definitely be more worried by the sudden dysfunction of his body. 

His mind comes to a blank when Suga takes a step forward though, bringing them much closer than they were a second earlier. The lights are reflecting off his hair, his rings, the piercings in his ear, Daichi is trying to take it all in while forcing himself not to take a step back just to breathe. 

Suga leans unnecessarily close to his ear when he talks, “So, what do you want Daichi?”

He’ll never get over how his name sounds in that mouth, how the vowels sound on that pink tongue, his whole body is going rigid as Suga puts a warm petite hand on his arm. 

“W-what?”

He wanted everything, he wanted to kiss Sugar’s cheek after a romantic date, wanted to trade secrets late into the night, wanted to fuck him against a wall, he wanted everything he could have, everything Suga was ready to give him —

“I meant to drink, what do you want to drink Daichi? Your hands are awfully empty.”

Oh. Oh god.

He ducks his head, feels his whole face and neck flushing red, ashamed of his own dirty mind as he mutters something about beer. He can’t even look him in the eye when Suga leans back, afraid his thoughts are written clearly on his face but when he catches the satisfied smile sent his way, the lingering look on his hands, he thinks maybe he’s just been played. 

He’s not afraid to admit he loves it.

-

One beer turns into four, an animated conversation among the crowd becomes a quiet chat by the deserted stairs and before he knows it, Daichi is very much in love.

Yes, that easy.

He feels bad, because he’s not really listening to Suga’s story about last week at work, when he apparently had to call the police on a guy trying to steal croissants of all things, no, instead he’s watching the way Sugar’s lips are moving, plush lips looking so soft and shiny — surely he had to be wearing some kind of lipgloss, right? He couldn’t just have lips that appealing.

He only looks up when the lips stop moving to stretch into a little smug smile instead — he’s been caught. 

“Sorry.” He says, straightens back up and goes for another swing of beer before he remembers the bottle in his hands has been empty for a good half hour but none of them had wanted to move.

Suga leans in to whisper, even if they’re already centimeters away from each other, clearly able to hear each other where they are standing against the railing. “What are you apologizing for?”

And Daichi frowns but before he can respond something stupid akin to  ‘sorry for wanting to kiss you so bad I forget to listen to you’, Noya is suddenly grabbing his arm.

He didn’t even hear nor see his friend coming, he knows he’s distracted when he misses Noya of all people. 

“Daichi!” He’s being pulled away from Suga and he would turn angry eyes to his friend if he didn’t look so frantic. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere, Iwaizumi is about to punch a guy’s face in!”

God really hated him. And maybe Iwaizui did a little bit too, if he was out here getting into fights when he knew Daichi was busy talking to his future husband. 

He holds in a curse. “Where is he?”

Noya leads him outside and when Daichi turns to Suga to tell him he’ll be right back, to please wait for him, he realizes the pretty man is right by his side already, following with a worried face.

He can’t help smiling like a fool even as he’s dragged through the cold, Iwaizumi’s angry voice echoing in the garden of the busy frat house. There’s a little circle around the commotion so the three men push their way through until Daichi can take the scene in.

Iwaizumi has a guy’s shirt in his fist, pinning him against a brick wall with fire in his eyes. He absentmindedly notices Oikawa standing by, watching the scene while sipping on what looks to be a Pina Colada in hand.

 Daichi knows his roommate is hotheaded, anybody who already interacted with Iwaizumi for more than five seconds knows that actually, but the guy in his grip is so much taller, broader and his arm is the size of Hajime’s thigh — he’s going to get decked.

Or maybe not, because he’s spirited and driven by the most random shit, Daichi wouldn’t be surprised if he came out of this winning, but there’s no way he’s getting out totally safe and sound— so he steps in. 

“Hajime.” He grabs his friend’s arm. “What are you doing?”

Iwaizumi ignores him, shakes the guy against the wall, the stranger’s cap falling to the ground. “I told you to apologize!”

“And I told you I didn’t do shit!”

“I fucking saw you!” Another shake, Daichi can tell from experience his roommate is close to landing the first punch.

That’s why he tugs him back forcefully until Iwaizumi lets go, makes sure his voice sounds harsher, louder among the chattering and people filming. “Stop it, what the fuck are you doing?”

His friend points an accusing finger at the guy. “He grabbed that girl’s ass!”

They all turn to a woman cowering against the wall, tears in her eyes and arms crossed on her stomach.

“I did not!” The guy yells again and Iwaizumi is ready to surge back in before Daichi wraps an arm around his chest. 

“Calm down.” He says, low but firm.

Iwaizumi turns stunned eyes to him. “You’re going to let that piece of shit go—“

“You’re scaring her.” Daichi nods to the girl against the wall. “You’re making it all worse, this isn’t the way to do this.”

“Then what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“You calm the fuck down.” He repeats, making sure to stare his angry friend down. “We’re still on campus, you’ll get expelled if you fight, what good is that going to make?” Iwaizumi is breathing hard, chest heaving, but he grinds his teeth to try and simmer it all down. “The guy’s a dickhead, he’s not going to apologize because he doesn’t believe he did anything wrong, stop wasting your time.”

“But—“

“No buts.” 

Then he waits. 

It takes Iwaizumi six seconds to exhale and nod. 

Only then does Daichi let him go and turns around to the taller jerk, spreading his arms into a placating gesture. “Listen, let’s—“

“Who you’re calling a dickhead?”

And that’s how he gets sucker punched in the face.

Ah, fucking Iwaizumi and his fucking temper.

The crowd around them gasps as Daichi cradles his face and doubles over, pain so sudden and excruciating his mind blacks out for a few seconds. He can’t lament for long though because Iwaizumi is surging back in with a furious, “You motherfucker!”

And Daichi has to catch him before he retaliates.  

-

Suga can only watch, a hand still covering his gaping mouth as Daichi stops his friend with an arm hastily wrapped around his waist.

“Daichi, what the fuck are you—“

But at the look in Daichi’s eyes, Iwaizumi cuts himself off and immediately deflates. 

Even after spending god knows how many hours flirting with him by the stairs, Suga has to admit Daichi looks terrifying right now. He’s miles away from the smart, composed guy he noticed in class before, so different from the sweet guy he spent the evening trying to get home, and he just got punched in the face but fuck if he doesn’t look even hotter.

Suga joined Oikawa’s side and his friend turns to him with an eyebrow raised; Suga resists the urge to say ‘not so boring, uh?’ and instead focuses back on the scene unfolding in front of them.

The taller guy takes a step back until he’s stuck against the wall once again, the crowd around them fell to a hush, only the music from inside distantly echoing.

Daichi’s voice is loud and clear when he speaks up, tone scary. 

“You’re in the rugby team, yeah?” The other guy’s face pales. “What’s your name again… Kageyama? No, that’s not it…” Daichi drops the fake frown to smile wickedly. “Ah, right yes, I remember now, you’re Sasaki!” 

Whispers start to emerge from everywhere and Sasaki looks around, nervous, before refocusing on Daichi when he talks again.

“Well Sasaki I’m sure your coach, the dean, and everybody I will have to meet in between, will be happy to know you spend your Friday nights assaulting girls and punching random honor students on campus.”

Suga might very well be in love. He’d tell Oikawa, but he’s pretty sure his friend would only laugh at him.

“You—“ Sasaki starts, but then seems to think better when Daichi doesn’t flinch at the arm he raises.

Instead Daichi smiles again. “Yeah, I’ll see you at the disciplinary hearing Sasaki-chan.”

And then he takes a step back, Sasaki’s shoulders drop and the crowd watches with bated breath as he turns to leave without a look back. Before he follows, Iwaizumi fixes Sasaki with a dark glare and makes a cutting motion in front of his throat. Sasaki gulps.

Then the two friends are walking back towards the frat house and conversations erupt all over the garden, people putting their phones back into their pocket after filming, the mob dissipating as Sasaki and his friends hurry to leave the premises.

Well.

“Well that was hot as fuck.” Oikawa reads his mind, noisily sucking on the looping straw in his fancy glass. At the look Suga gives him, he rolls his eyes. “Relax, it’s not him I’m interested in, I’m just saying, I get why you like him.”

He doesn’t respond, it’s not because Daichi is insanely hot when he gets mad than he likes him. It’s because of the way he gets instantly red when he gets caught staring from the other side of the amphitheater, it’s when Daichi completely stops listening to anybody talking the second he gets distracted by his lips, it’s when they talk for hours and Suga can’t seem to stop smiling at how right and easy it feels.

He’s got it bad. 

“Did you see where they went?” He asks Oikawa, who licks his lips before he shrugs. “I’ll get some ice for his eye.”

By the time he’s out of the kitchen with a freezer bag full of ice, Oikawa tells him they just rounded the corner of the street, probably on the way back to their apartment. Oikawa can be a good friend though, so he already has their jackets ready and tells him to hurry. 

When they round the corner themselves, Suga expects to maybe catch sign of them down the street but he stops dead in his tracks when they’re right here, Oikawa bumping into him.

“You should have let me handle it, I had it under control.” Iwaizumi is saying from where he has his hands shoved into his hoodie, looking down at Daichi sitting against the wall on the sidewalk, unimpressed. 

A pause and no response, Iwaizumi lifts an eyebrow in a grimace. “Does it hurt?”

Daichi gets his face out of his hands long enough to fix him with a glare, he’s steadily crying but his jaw is set. “Does it hurt?” He repeats, furious. Iwaizumi toes his shoe on the ground. “What the fuck do you think you moron? He punched me in the face!”

He goes back to hiding his face into his hands, whining high in his throat — it should be pathetic, why does Suga think it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen?

Oikawa is laughing though, clearly poking fun, and their heads snap to Suga and Oikawa at the sound. When Daichi sees Suga, he opens one wide eye — the other one forced closed — before he lets his head thud painfully back against the brick wall. 

“Oh my god.” He whispers, mortified. 

Suga tries to hide his fond smile, scared it will be taken as mocking.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Iwaizumi barks, but he’s clearly not paying any attention to Suga so the latter walks over to Daichi.

“Little Iwa-chan needs someone to defend him, uh?”

He can hear his friend and the troublemaker flirting under the pretense of bickering in the background as he crouches by Daichi’s side.

Suga lifts tentative fingers towards Daichi’s face, pries the hand he’s hiding with away and can’t help but hiss in a breath at the sight he gets. Daichi looks bad, the skin around his eye is already swelling and bluish, there’s a cut on his cheekbone and blood where his teeth snapped in his lip at the impact. 

“I’m fine.” Daichi turns his face to hide, smile nervous and fake.

Suga takes off his scarf, wraps it around the plastic bag of ice burning his fingers and hands it to Daichi who still won’t meet his eye. “Here, that will help.” 

He also might have stolen a pocket size first aid kit from the bathroom, when he gets it out from his jacket, Daichi frowns, face half hidden by the scarf. “Where did you get that—“

Suga shushes him with a wink and Daichi gets too flustered to protest more. Instead the man drops his eyes, apparently choosing to focus on Suga’s black skirt instead.

“Show me your cheek, I’ll take care of it.” 

Daichi does as he’s told but Suga can’t stay crouching down, he’s unsteady and his thighs aren’t that strong; he looks at the dirty sidewalk, then at his naked legs and his mouth twists in consideration.

Daichi is immediately straightening up, unzipping his puffy jacket. “Wait.” Once it’s off he extends it to Suga. “Here, use this, don’t scratch your knees.” Suga feels a soft smile tugging at his lips, Daichi drops his gaze, jacket still outstretched. “I would get up but I think I’ll pass out or puke if I do so, here.”

Suga takes one look at the offering. “This looks expensive.”

A shrug. “I can wash it, I don’t care.”

“I do.” He easily responds. “Plus, you’re going to be cold.” His classmate meets his eye again, bashful, but Suga knows Daichi won’t be able to hold his gaze with what he’s about to say. “Put that back on, I’ll sit in your lap instead.”

He was wrong, Daichi doesn’t look down, but it’s only because he’s too stunned to move yet. Suga can’t help it, he smirks at the reaction. “Unless that’s not okay with you, I’d hate to take advantage.”

Daichi hardens his glare, cocks his head with a flat stare and Suga lets a giggle bubble out of his mouth.

“Yeah, right.” The man whispers as he puts his jacket back on. Then he spreads his legs and Suga doesn’t leave him enough time to think before he moves in.

Daichi immediately goes stiff under him, whole body tensing even if Suga isn’t really straddling him but rather sitting on his thighs with his feet planted on the ground. The position is way less sexy than he would have liked but oh well, they’ll have time for that later on.

He opens the first aid kit and sets to disinfect the cut, the bickering of the other two a nice comfortable white noise in the background.

“Would you fight for my honor too, Iwa-chan?”

“There wouldn’t be much to fight for, would there?” 

He doesn’t think Oikawa’s gasp was faked this time.

Daichi watches him cautiously as he leans in, careful fingers touching the bruised skin, but his eyes are apparently still magnetically pulled to his lips.

“Does that happen a lot?”

“What does?” Daichi asks as he tries not to shy away from the cotton, distracted. 

“You getting into fights.”

The mouth under his hand lets out a chuckle. “Wasn’t really much of a fight but rather me getting punched like a loser, don’t you think?”

Suga shakes his head, dabs at his lip with care until it’s clean of dry blood. “I thought you were brave.” Daichi’s lips quirk up, shy. “And hot.”

The injured man lets his head drop back onto the wall, away from Suga’s hands, and closes his eyes with a little sigh.

Suga can’t help the amused tone, “What?”

“You’ve got to stop saying stuff like this.” Daichi says, voice low and a tinge to it that makes Suga’s stomach twist in a delightful way. “Especially when you’re in my lap.”

“Or else?” He teases and when Daichi fixes him with another glare, faces so close he can feel his breath on his chin, he smirks again.

-

Parting from Daichi that night had been hard but the man was injured, and understandably wished to sleep in his own bed so Suga didn’t push.

This was all new for Koushi, taking it slow. If it wasn’t for Daichi’s timidity, Suga would have probably slept with him back in September when he first caught him pining from afar.

But this was surprisingly great, the longing looks, the getting to know each other first, the prospect of maybe actually dating instead of a one night stand in the dorms— Suga was feeling giddy with it all, couldn’t stop smiling at nothing even as he worked.

He’s so busy thinking about Daichi, about how his classmate had felt under him that night, all sturdy and strong, that he completely misses said classmate stepping into the bakery.

Suga only spots him as he’s ringing up a girl, his professional smile turning genuine at the sight of Daichi hiding his face under a cap, shoulders hunched high in the back. There’s a nasty black-eye staining his warm face now, but he still smiles like the sun at Koushi when he reaches the register.

“Hi Koushi.”

That was new too, but Daichi had said Suga’s name was too beautiful to pass on. “Hey you.” He bites on his lip to tame his smile, of course Daichi’s eyes dart down. ”Thought you’d never visit me.”

“Ah I’m sorry.” Daichi looks back and makes sure there is no customer waiting behind him. “I wanted to come earlier but— well, a black eye hurts a lot more than you’d think.”

“Hm.” Koushi gives him a sad pout. “Poor baby. Need someone to help you out until you recover?”

Shifting on his feet, his classmate’s ears are definitely turning red. “Help me with what?” He asks, rather stupidly, smitten.

Suga likes them stupid and smitten.

“With anything you need, I could give you my notes from class, help you with groceries,” His voice dips. “I could try and kiss you better.”

Daichi chokes on his spit, adorable. “Don’t you mean, eh— kiss it better?”

“I said what I said Daichi.” And if he winks after that, well, that’s just to make sure the blush spreads up to Daichi’s cheeks.

It works, but Daichi also seems to have stopped working altogether and a new customer just made their way in, so Suga has to stop flirting. A real shame. 

“Alright Dai, what would you like to taste today?” His classmate blinks a few times, shaking his head— so cute. “We’ve got those amazing blueberry muffins, or those pains au chocolat are really good. What do you say?”

Finally taking a look at the pastries behind the glass, Daichi’s lips twist to the side. “Uh, I don’t know, one of each I guess.”

Suga clicks his tongue as the new customer browses their mug collections. “Ah, no, sorry. That’s impossible. You’re getting a muffin and that’s it.”

As Suga bends over to grab said muffin with tongs, Daichi lets out a little chuckle. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

Grabbing a paper bag and dropping the treat into it, Suga moves towards the register. “Well if you taste everything so fast, then you’ll never come back. I need to pace you out, to see you as much as I can.”

Daichi ducks his head, but Suga already saw his grin and lets a similar one bend his own lips. When he looks back up, Koushi’s surprised to see the confidence in Daichi’s stance, the determination in his eyes. “Well, I might have a solution.”

He rests a hip against the counter. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Wow Daichi was sexy when he was so sure of himself. “Let me take you out, I’ll let you stare as much as you want.”

Who would have thought that man could be so smooth? Suga opens his mouth to answer, but that’s when the middle-aged lady who had been looking at the display comes up to the counter and upon seeing Daichi’s black eye, she gasps.

All the confidence leaves Daichi in one breath, he tilts his head to hide the injury from view as the woman sends him an affronted glare.

Well Koushi was definitely going to squash her pastry. For now he settles for sighing, grabbing the customers’ attention. “Ah Daichi, I still can’t believe you got punched after saving those kids’ lives, you’re truly a hero.”

He sends the deadliest glare he can to the woman while Daichi looks at him as if Suga just grew a second head, clearly he needed to be taught how to lie and be petty. 

“Here.” He extends the muffin while the woman clears her throat and takes a step back. “It’s on the house.”

Daichi accepts the bag, stuttering, “B-but I—“

“I insist.” When he sees the bitch is back to browsing their cups, he leans over the counter to whisper. “And I can do Friday.”

Daichi is so lost. “What?”

“For our date.”

“O-oh. Oh, yeah, right.” He straightens back up, clutching the paper bag in his hand so hard it nearly tears. “Friday yes, let’s meet up at eight?”

“Sounds perfect to me, let’s discuss the details on insta, yeah?”

“Sure.” 

But then Daichi doesn’t move.

“You can go now.” Suga laughs. “You’ll have all the time to be a bad flirt on Friday, promise.”

Even the jab can’t hurt the joy on Daichi’s face, he only nods, a spring in his step as he walks to the door. “Alright, see you Friday then?”

He pauses with the hand on the handle, looking as eager as can be, Suga suppresses another giggle.

“Yeah, see you Friday Dai.”

Daichi nods again and then he’s gone, the door sliding shut behind him.

As he deals with the woman and hands her her change, he fights the urge to grab his phone and text his group chat with Oikawa and Atsumu. 

When she’s finally gone, Suga with his elbows on the counter as he reads over the avalanche of texts he’s getting in response to the news, his boss’s voice echoes from the kitchen. “Suga, did I just hear you giving away something for free again?”

Ah fuck.

-

“Is this shit ABBA?”

Daichi turns confused eyes to him at the bizarre question coming out of nowhere. Iwaizumi already asked a few weeks ago, all frustrated and pissed off by a tall dumbass with long eyelashes, what the fuck ABBA was.

His friend eyes Iwaizumi suspiciously, frowns as he listens intently to the foreign lyrics shaking the walls. “I think so, yeah. Why?”

Fuck.

“I’ve got to get out of here.”

Hajime is immediately searching for a way to reach the crowded exit but then his eyes fall onto Oikawa’s delighted ones across the room and it’s too late— Pretty Boy is already lip-syncing.

-

Ever since that first night they met (Iwaizumi wouldn’t call it meeting but Oikawa insists) Pretty Boy has been on a quest to ask the people in charge of the music at every party he spots Iwaizumi at to play some ABBA, and of course nobody can resist Tooru fluttering his eyelashes and asking so sweetly. 

Why, you ask? A very valid question Iwaizumi himself remembers asking a good dozen times, he gets the same bullshit answer every time though, some bullshit about educating him or something. Oikawa clearly wants in his pants and is a tool when it comes to flirting.

And so Tooru lip-syncs, he dances, teases, all while Iwaizumi can’t tear his eyes away— because Oikawa is hot, obviously, not because he likes it or anything.

He only understands a few sentences each time. 

It starts with a mocking ‘dancing queen, young and sweet’ as Iwaizumi is dancing with a girl one evening, but then it’s ‘I’m really glad you came, you know the rules, you know the game’ with a wink and another night Oikawa swings his hips to ‘gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight’ — but he quickly forgets about Iwaizumi that time, by the end of the song he has one guy hanging off each arm.

The next time Oikawa chooses ‘you’re so cute, I like your style’ as Hajime is just trying to serve himself a drink in peace and as the party dies down and people start to leave, the idiot sings ‘honey I’m still free, take a chance on me’.

It became easy for Pretty Boy, because now every time Iwaizumi hears a foreign unfamiliar tune, he turns to the closest person to him and asks if this is ABBA; if they respond with an affirmative, it’s like he forgets common sense and searches for Oikawa in the crowd.

Shit, Oikawa parloved him.

‘Just one look and I can hear a bell ring’ Oikawa is currently singing from across the room, Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. ‘My my, how can I resist you?’ 

Hajime hides an amused smile in his cup while he pretends to be listening to the girl  currently talking to him.

But later that night when Oikawa looks deep into his eyes, smirks and sings along to ‘honey honey, touch me baby’ with his hands in his hair as he arches his back obscenely, Iwaizumi finds his breath stuck in his throat.

-

“Hi Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi blinks at Oikawa standing at his front door, brain slowly processing.

His first thought is to ask how the fuck did Oikawa found out where he lived because even if they did exchange phone numbers, Iwaizumi made sure to never give him his address. But that answer was pretty obvious, what with Suga and Daichi dating, plus Daichi did grumble something about vengeance that night so long ago, so instead Iwaizumi cuts straight to the chase. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Tooru’s smile doesn’t dim in its sweetness but Iwaizumi doesn’t miss the way his eyes sharpen, his hand busy in a wave twitching. It was much easier to read him after Pretty Boy managed to insert his presence into Iwaizumi’s daily life for the last couple of weeks.

“Well.” Tooru drops his hand, a brown bag in the other that Iwaizui can’t help but eye suspiciously. “A little birdie told me you were all alone and bored tonight, so I decided to grace you with my presence.” 

Oikawa then puts a dainty hand under his chin, which does highlight his sharp jaw, and flutters his eyes prettily. 

Contrary to popular belief, Iwaizumi didn’t have anything against pretty people, the problem wasn’t that Oikawa was pretty, delicate or dainty— it was that he knew he was.

“No thanks.” Iwaizumi is already closing the door. “I’d rather be bored.”

Oikawa drops the angelic act to slap a strong hand on the door, sound loud in the empty corridor. He’s not actually putting enough force to prevent Iwaizumi from closing it if he wanted to, but his gesture is enough for him to stop, to raise an eyebrow at Pretty Boy.

Pretty Boy who’s sighing. “Okay fine, I’m the one who’s bored and lonely, Suga is too busy with your stupid roommate to hang out with me and—“

“And you don’t have any other friends.” Iwaizumi finishes for him, knowing it will rile Oikawa up.

“I have plenty of friends, thank you very much.” His annoyed expression makes Iwaizumi smirk. “I’m just not in the mood to party and I don’t feel like—” He averts his eyes, hand slipping off the door. 

He doesn’t need to say more, Iwaizumi knows. Oikawa doesn’t feel like faking an energy he doesn’t have tonight and he knows Iwaizumi likes him better when he’s being his calmer, nerdier self— even if Tooru himself thinks his calmer, nerdier self is lame.

“I’m not here to see you.” Oikawa lies, flirty smile back on his face. “I’m just here because I have a duty to educate you, we’re going to watch Mamma Mia.”

There’s a glint in Oikawa’s eyes Iwaizumi is very wary of so he doesn’t take the bait, doesn’t get mad at the implication he needs to get educated on anything. The ‘what the fuck is Mamma Mia?’ that very nearly tumbled off his tongue is swallowed down. 

“I’ll pass.”

And the flirty face is off, just like a switch, leaving in its place a childish whiny bitch stomping his foot. “You don’t even know what it is!”

“And I don’t want to, if it was any good I would have heard about it by now.” Iwaizumi says, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe, set on making Oikawa work for it if he wants to spend the evening over, or maybe the night.

Pretty Boy gives him a flat look. “Well isn’t that a wonderful way to never discover anything new?”

Iwaizumi ducks his head, crosses his legs to hide the huff of breath that escapes him—almost a laugh, Oikawa would never drop it.

“Come on, I even brought you udon.” He lifts the brown bag up and Iwaizumi’s frown is genuine this time.

Granted, Iwaizumi kind of lost himself talking to Oikawa more than once, he did divulge way more information than he ever intended to when they first started to hang out after Suga and Daichi got together— he couldn’t even pinpoint why though, Tooru just got him in a way he hadn’t expected. But he doesn’t remember mentioning udon was his favorite food, and he sure as hell didn’t tell anybody else. 

Maybe he should be a little more concerned about how Oikawa found out where he lived after all.

“I don’t know if you like it,” Oikawa says and Iwaizumi’s frown ease, just a coincidence then. “but there’s this place near where I live and they make the best in town and when I walked past I thought I’d pick some for us and—“

Rambling doesn’t seem to be Oikawa’s forte, just like being embarrassed. Iwaizumi doesn’t stop him though, his face an infuriating kind of expressionless as he listens.

“Anyway, I don’t even know why I’m justifying myself.” Fussy and proud, Oikawa flicks his hair off his face. “Are you going to let me in or am I wasting my time here?”

“Depends,” He shrugs one shoulder. “why are you here?”

A beat of silence passes as Oikawa takes in the intensity of his gaze, the words hidden underneath it. Still, he doesn’t relent. “I’m here to watch a movie.”

“And that’s it?”

Oikawa grins, playing dumb. “And also graciously offer you delicious food because I’m just that nice?”

He can’t really keep his sly smile in check as he pushes off the doorframe, Pretty Boy was awfully transparent and oddly desperate. 

“Alright then.” 

Iwaizumi could definitely work with that.

-

Pointing his beer at the screen, Iwaizumi turns to Oikawa. “So that ABBA band wrote the songs for that movie?” 

Oikawa throws an arm over his eyes— a real drama queen.

“No.” He drawls out, his glass of white wine dangerously perched on his thigh with a loose grip. “No, I told you, ABBA wrote those songs in the seventies, this movie came out decades later.”

He drops his arm from his face, reveals the thin rimmed glasses Iwaizumi had been surprised by when he pulled them out that first time, and sighs. 

Iwaizumi pouts angrily, he didn’t even like musicals. “So they made a movie about ABBA?”

“This isn’t about ABBA Iwa-chan! The movie’s soundtrack is just ABBA songs!”

Oikawa is kind of cute when he gets frustrated, Iwaizumi has to hide an endeared smile by gathering the empty food containers spread onto the coffee table. “Whatever, just start the movie, freaking nerd.”

A sharp intake of breath in his back, the sound becoming familiar. “I’m not a nerd, everybody knows Mamma Mia Iwa-chan, everybody, you’re the weird one here.” 

“Never said it was a bad thing.” He snorts as he grabs the bottle of wine from the fridge and another beer. “Just start the fucking thing before I change my mind, nerd.”

When he sits back down on the couch, closer than he was before, Oikawa only looks at the tiny distance between them and smugly smiles around his wine glass.

-

“So you’re going to tell me that we watched that whole fucking movie, and we still don’t know who her father is?”

Oikawa stops singing under his breath (like he’s been doing with every single song since the movie started, not that Iwaizumi is watching him) and clicks his tongue. “That’s not the point of the movie you idiot.”

Iwaizumi is surprised to find he’s not that mad at the insult. “It is the point! That’s the whole plot of the fucking thing!”

“Don’t you get it?” Oikawa turns amused eyes to him and boy is he close. “All of them are going to be father figures to her now, they don’t care who her biological father is—“

“Such bullshit.” He cuts him off, shaking his head as the screen starts to display the credits. “I can’t believe I watched that whole thing, sat through so many bad songs—“

“Be careful what you say now Iwaizumi.”

“And all they had to do was to get married and figure out who her father was and they didn’t even do one of those things.” He groans. “I can’t believe you made me watch this.”

“I can’t be friends with someone who doesn’t know what Mamma Mia is, I have a reputation to uphold.”

Iwaizumi is quick to restore the truth. “We’re not friends.”

“Alright,” Oikawa rolls his eyes. “but we’ll be soon because you obviously can’t resist me—“

“I don’t want to be your friend.”

At Iwaizumi’s deadpan but totally serious tone, Oikawa’s eyes snap to his face, taken aback. His glasses are sitting low, balancing on the tip of his pointy nose and Iwaizumi almost reaches out to push them back, but instead just stares. 

The other man’s easy smile is tweaked by nervousness when he speaks again, “Why do you have to be so rude Iwa-chan?”

“I’m not.” He lifts a shoulder to his ear, nonchalant, but his eyes fall onto Tooru’s lips, like they tend to do. “I just don’t make friends with the people I wanna sleep with, that’d just be a recipe for disaster.”

Since he’s observing Oikawa so closely, he saw first hand the way his eyes widened before he averts them, the grip on his glass tightening by a fraction. Iwaizumi lets a lopsided smile stretch his mouth as Oikawa beautifully blushes.

“Well.” Pretty Boy starts, clears his throat, trying to get his voice to be airy and melodious — but it’s more like flustered and a little turned on. “Well, too bad I’m not interested in you that way, you’re not my type.”

That’s the biggest lie of the evening, Iwaizumi once again won’t take the bait.

“Oh really now?” He raises an eyebrow, Oikawa is brave enough to meet his eye dead on. 

“Yep, I’m into men of culture.”

Ignoring the uncalled for jab, Iwaizumi settles an arm on the back of the couch, just above Oikawa’s defined shoulders. 

“So you really just came here to watch a movie?” He cocks his head to the side and Oikawa licks his lips in the dark, the upbeat music still faintly playing in the background. “That’s it?”

He lets his eyes fall onto Oikawa’s mouth once again, makes sure the other man can see how he’s biting the inside of his bottom lip. 

Oikawa breathes in a little faster but he nods, “Yeah, that’s it. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He gives Oikawa one last chance, meets his eye again to give him a disbelieving glare and a minute to think about it. Oikawa doesn’t budge, stubborn and handsome, so Iwaizumi pulls back with a little sigh.

“Okay then.” He stands up, sees Oikawa’s expression turning a little lost, half-lidded eyes blinking. “I watched your stupid movie, so I guess it’s time for you to go.”

Hajime stretches with his hands high above his head, makes sure his shirt is riding up and relishes in the way Oikawa’s eyes snap to the exposed V-line. Iwaizumi drops his arms and hides a smirk as he turns around.

“Wow, you’re not even going to offer to walk me back home?” Oikawa shakes his head, tutting as he gets up and joins him at the door. “I knew you weren’t a gentleman but to leave me so defenseless and vulnerable like this— You’re heartless Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi grabs Oikawa’s jacket, Pretty Boy takes it with his nose high in the air as he opens the door.

“You’re a big boy now, I’m sure you can find your way home.” 

They stand face to face on the threshold, door wide open and inviting, but none of them are moving.

Then Iwaizumi takes a step forward, getting closer and closer until he can smell the wine on Oikawa’s breath. He leans in, darting away from Tooru’s parted lips to find the shell of his ear. 

“Unless you need daddy to help you out?”

Oikawa stops breathing altogether, just like Iwaizumi knew he would, and a few seconds of loaded silence pass by. Iwaizumi pulls back just enough to make eye-contact, faces pressed so close. Pretty Boy’s eyes dart from Iwaizumi’s hated stare to his smug smile, one, two times and then he lets his jacket fall to the ground, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck to lick his way into his mouth. 

Kicking the door shut, Iwaizumi slams Oikawa against it with heavy hands on bony hips, teeth clashing in a delicious kiss. 

Soon enough wet noises and ‘promise to love you for ever more’ are the only sounds filling the apartment.