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IwaOi
Oikawa wasn’t awake right now. He couldn’t be, because then the small tin box in his hand would be real, and, frankly speaking, the setter was self-aware enough to know that this shit only happened in his dreams.
“Oi.” Iwaizumi scowled, scratching the back of his flushed neck awkwardly. “Could you just, like, fucking say something right now because you’re kinda sorta holding my entire fucking heart in your stupid little hands and it’s really just-“ he shifted his weight uncomfortably, his eyebrows furrowing as he fixed his gaze on the floor, “you know. Freaking me the fuck out. So.”
Oikawa, however, merely blinked at him. He was dreaming. He had to be. Because there was no actual, non-metaphysical universe in which the setter’s hands were stupid, let alone little, and had Iwaizumi actually just said heart because that was just- no. No way.
“Hey. Shittykawa. Seriously.” Iwaizumi’s frown somehow managed to deepen, his ears beet red. “This is the sort of crap you actually gotta respond to, you know.”
Respond. Iwaizumi wanted him to respond, like this was something Oikawa was prepared to answer, like this was something Oikawa could’ve seen coming in an actual, non-metaphysical universe, like this was not just some sleep-induced fantasy and what the actual hell.
“This?” he managed finally, still simply staring at the ace. His body felt thawed over. Honestly, Oikawa was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to move his legs even if he tried. “Really? This? This was the best you could do?”
Iwaizumi’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red as he jammed his hands deep into his pockets. “I literally made you chocolates, asshole. Stop complaining.”
Oikawa, however, only blinked at him once before dragging his gaze down to the note stuck to the top of the chocolate box. ”’You better not be a sappy little shit about this’,” he read aloud before pulling his eyes back up to meet the ace’s. “Seriously, Iwa?”
The spiker’s forehead creased. “Hey, I did do it on Valentine’s Day-“
“You think that makes ’sappy little shit’ any better?”
“And used pink stationary-“
“Yeah, a literal post-it note-“
“Okay well that still counts, alright?” Iwaizumi glared at him for a long moment in silence before huffing out loudly. “You know what, fuck this, I’m done, just give it back-“
“What are you- no, Iwa, stop-“ Oikawa had to lean back and hold the box as high as he could above his head to fend off Iwaizumi. “For goodness sake, Iwa, we kinda have to talk about this and will you just stop trying to grab at-“
“Yeah well you haven’t really up for talking, shithead, so.” Iwaizumi tried to jump up to snatch the box, but the setter managed to swipe it out of the way.
“Oh my god, stop, I’m just processing, okay?” Oikawa frowned. “This is, like, kinda a huge shock, you know.”
“How?” Iwaizumi’s forehead creased. “Literally how is any of this a huge shock?” He blinked, scowling. “Dumbass, have you even seen the way I look at you?”
“I-“ Oikawa’s mouth, at least, was definitely still asleep because it seemed incapable of voicing any coherent thought. “You’re you, Iwa, and I never thought you could actually- we were just friends, no?”
Now it was Iwaizumi’s turn to simply stare at him. “Holy shit,” the ace muttered, dropping his face into his hands. “You are literally the most talented person on this whole entire fucking planet at reading others and yet you still manage to be this much of an idiot. Good lord.”
“Hey! I’m not-“ Oikawa paused. Wait. “Did you just call me talented?”
“Is that seriously the only thing you took away from this?”
“Well not the only thing.” The setter gestured towards the box. “I got some chocolates, too.”
“Yeah.” Iwaizumi shot him a glare. “No kidding. You’re welcome for that, by the way.”
And that’s when the setter knew he wasn’t asleep because not even in the setter’s wildest dreams could he ever have imagined Iwaizumi actually having anything even remotely resembling manners.
“Oh my god.” Oikawa simply gawked at Iwaizumi’s expression for a long moment in silence. “This is actually real, isn’t it,” he breathed finally.
“What do you think?” Iwaizumi answered, and the setter’s face broke out into a grin.
“Oh my god,” he repeated. “Oh my god.” And then he was surging forward to wrap his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck and squeezing the ace into the tightest hug he could manage and oh my god and did this count as manifestation and he could feel Iwaizumi’s hands drop onto his lower back to pull him in closer and oh my god.
“Hey. I told you to not be a sappy little shit about this, you know,” the ace said into his shoulder, but Oikawa only gripped onto him tighter.
“Should’ve thought about that before you used pink stationary, Iwa-chan,” he answered, smiling.
The setter could feel Iwaizumi frown against him. “It’s literally a post-it note; I don’t think that really counts as stationary-“
“Oh my god.” Oikawa cut him off, pulling back to grin down at the ace with shining eyes. “Did you cut the chocolates into little hearts, too?”
Iwaizumi’s face turned beet red as he tried to snatch the box out of the setter’s hand, but Oikawa only laughed and held the box high above his head.
“Aw,” he cooed. “Iwa-chan-”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“How romantic-“
“I said shut the fuck up.”
Giggling, Oikawa’s smile grew. “Okay,” he answered, leaning forward towards Iwaizumi’s scowl, and, as the ace leaned in too, the setter made sure to give himself a small pinch on the wrist. Just to be safe.
Not just a dream, he concluded, his eyes sliding shut. Not just a dream after all.
#
MatsuHana
Hanamaki wasn’t a coward. An asshole? Okay, so sure, maybe. But a coward? Nah. That just wasn’t him.
Which was why this wasn’t him procrastinating, and not him cowarding. He wasn’t worried about Matsukawa’s reaction, or any other cowardly crap like that. He was just taking his time to tell him. Being thoughtful. Strategic.
But cowardly? Nah, no way. That just wasn’t him.
“Yo.” Matsukawa gave him a small nod as Hanamaki slid into the seat next to him on the table’s bench.
“Hey,” Hanamaki answered. He sucked in a deep, very much non-cowardly breath. “So.”
“So.” Matsukawa typed something onto his phone.
“Valentine’s Day.”
“Yeah.”
“Another one.”
Matsukawa didn’t bother to glance up from the screen. “Well it is annual.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“Crazy.”
“Crazy.”
Hanamaki shifted in his seat. He wasn’t a coward. He wasn’t chickening out. That just wasn’t him. “So,” he said.
“So.”
“All that Valentine’s Day shit is gonna happen.”
“Guess so.”
“The chocolates.”
“Mhm.”
“The confessions.”
“Yup.”
“Huh.” Hanamaki paused, glancing down at his hands before asking. “So, like, have you ever gotten one before?”
“Gotten what?” Matsukawa nudged him with his shoulder. “Respond to my GamePigeon, bro.”
“A confession or something.” Hanamaki pulled out his phone, clearing his throat. “Have you ever gotten one?”
“Yeah,” Matsukawa answered, watching Hanamaki open up their texts. “I think so.”
“Really?” Hanamaki made sure to keep his voice level, like the very non-cowardly person he was. “How many?” He nodded towards the phone. “Your turn, by the way.”
“Just one.” Matsukawa aimed the small pixelated dart on his screen.
“Huh.” Hanamaki paused. He wasn’t chickening out. He wasn’t. He was just- researching. Yeah, that was it. He was simply gathering evidence on the competition. Being thoughtful. Strategic. And all that other non-cowardly shit. “How’d they do it?” he asked, casually, very, very casually.
“Real cowardly-like.” Matsukawa didn’t look up from his phone. “Kept on trying to be sly and shit but still pretty obvious. Avoided the subject for a while. Your turn now.”
“Ah. Amateur.” Hanamaki aimed the dart on his screen. “Who was it?”
“Hm?”
“Who was the confession from?”
“Oh.” Matsukawa leaned over Hanamaki’s shoulder to watch him play. “You, man.”
“What?” Hanamaki’s head shot up to stare at Matsukawa, and the dart went wildly off target. “When?”
Matsukawa, meanwhile, only smirked as the YOU WON screen popped up on his phone. “Now, obviously.” He raised an eyebrow. “This is you confessing, no?”
“I- well.“ Hanamaki could only blink at him. “I guess,” he answered finally, and Matsukawa nodded.
“Bet.” He sent another GamePigeon. “Respond.”
“Okay.” Hanamaki, however, still didn’t move, instead simply staring at Matsukawa’s side profile. He sucked in a deep breath. “So.”
“So.”
He waited, but when Matsukawa didn’t elaborate further, Hanamaki took another big breath. “So you gonna no-homo me or something,” he began, “or…”
“Nah.”
“Nah?”
“Nah.” Matsukawa knocked their shoulders together. “Respond to the game, Makki.”
“Right, sure.” Hanamaki paused, pressing his lips together firmly. “Wait though, just to, like, clarify, this isn’t a no-homo situation, right?”
“Nah.”
“Nah as in…”
“Nah as in not a no-homo situation, no.”
“Okay.” Hanamaki turned to the phone, but before he clicked on their texts, he paused once again. “But like is it just not a no-homo situation then,” he started, “or is it like a reciprocated, two way, very much homo kind of situation?”
Matsukawa smirked, looking up to meet Hanamaki’s gaze. “It’s an all the homo kind of situation,” he said. “Like an all the homo all the time in all the homo ways kind of thing.”
“Oh.” Hanamaki’s shoulders relaxed, and he let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “Oh, okay. Bet.”
“Yeah.” Matsukawa’s crooked smile grew. “Now respond to the game, dude.”
“Right, right, the game.” Suppressing a grin, Hanamaki turned back to his phone. “You’re not winning again, by the way. That was just a fluke.”
“I don’t need to.” Matsukawa watched Hanamaki aim his dart, dropping his chin down to rest it on Hanamaki’s shoulder. “Already won.”
#
KyouHaba
Maybe, in some universe, this could have been considered karma.
Yahaba surveyed the empty locker room before moving his gaze down to the hand that was gripping the front of his shirt. Yeah. Dragging his eyes back up to meet Kyoutani’s, the setter tried to hold back his grimace. So being slammed against the wall was, as it turned out, not incredibly comfortable. Definitely karma.
“Look,” Kyoutani growled. “I already know how this goes, so let’s just be quick about it, yeah?”
Yahaba, however, only blinked at him. “Are you a fucking psycho?” He frowned. “Who the fuck just grabs somebody out of nowhere and fucking slams them against the fucking wall?”
The spiker’s forehead creased. “You,” he answered finally. “You do this.”
“That literally could not be more irrelevant.”
“What are you even-“ Scowling, Kyoutani huffed out loudly. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. We’re getting this over with quickly.”
“I still have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“How can you not get- it’s Valentine’s Day, idiot.”
“Yeah, and this is a wall, dumbass.”
“I-“ Kyoutani’s eyebrows furrowed. “Can you just, like, get over the wall thing for a second?”
“A bit hard to get over when I’m, again, pinned to the fucking wall-“
“For goodness-“ Kyoutani exhaled out loudly, dropping his grip on Yahaba’s shirt and taking a step back. “Fine. You know what? Fine.”
Shaking out his limbs, Yahaba pressed his lips together firmly. “Thank you,” he said. “Now what may I help you with?”
“You are such a little priss.”
“Love you too, heathen.”
“I-“ Yahaba had never seen somebody’s face turn that beet red within a matter of seconds. Oh. The setter’s lips turned upwards into a small crooked smile. Wow.
“That’s not what I meant,” the spiker muttered, and Yahaba arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms.
“Then what did you mean?” he asked. Kyoutani only glared at him in silence for a long moment before answering.
“Look,” he began. “I’ve already seen you do it before, alright? I know how this goes.”
“How what goes, Kyoutani?”
“Stop playing coy.”
“Not playing anything.”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific, Kyoutani.”
“Your whole-“ Kyoutani gestured forward at Yahaba aggressively, “rejecting people thing, or whatever, okay, I’ve seen it before, so you can do it quick.”
Yahaba’s brain was stalling. “My what?”
“You heard me.”
“I-“ Yahaba’s nervous system was clearly not working as it was intended to. “I have a rejecting people thing?” he managed finally.
Kyoutani frowned. “Just say your little speech and let’s go.”
“What ‘little speech’?”
“Are you seriously going to make me do it?” Huffing out loudly, Kyoutani crossed his arms tight against his chest. “My god you are useless. Fine. I’ll just do it myself then.”
“I still don’t know what you’re-“
Kyoutani brought his voice up an octave. “Wow,” he said, “I feel so honored right now that you would-“
“I don’t speak like that!”
“-honor me with your feelings like this, and I really do think the world of you and our friendship, but-“
“We have a friendship?”
“-but I just don’t think I’m ready for a relationship right now. So thank you, really. You are so, so brave.” Kyoutani threw up his hands. “There. That easy. Done.”
Yahaba, on the other hand, only blinked at him in silence for a long moment. “Okay well I don’t say that every time, per se,” he said finally, sniffing.
Kyoutani didn’t reply. “God,” he muttered instead, turning around. “Can’t believe you just made me reject myself, you little-“
“What? You-“ Yahaba was having a brain aneurysm. He was having a stroke, and his mind was not functioning properly, and that was the only possible explanation for this, because there was just no way in hell Kyoutani would actually- “Was that a confession?”
“You suck. You do know that, right?”
“I- hey. Kyoutani.” Yahaba grabbed the spiker’s wrist to stop him from leaving. “You… really?”
Kyoutani glared hard at him, his neck red. “I already said your whole little speech thing, Yahaba. You don’t gotta do it again.”
“You’re joking.” Yahaba dropped the spiker’s wrist, his gaze darting between Kyoutani’s eyes. “You didn’t actually just confess to me by rejecting yourself, right? This is a joke?”
Kyoutani’s forehead creased. “You were the one who made me-“
Yahaba barked out a laugh. “Oh no,” he said, “I did no such thing. No, this-“ he gestured between the two of them, “this was entirely voluntary on your end.”
“Whatever,” Kyoutani grumbled, turning around to go, except no, he was not just going to leave like that, Yahaba wasn’t about to just let him leave, and so, reaching out to grab the front of the spiker’s shirt, Yahaba yanked him back and spun him around to slam his spine against the wall.
“What the fuck are you-“ Kyoutani’s eyes were wide, his exhale audible. “You fucking psycho,” he muttered when he saw the smirk on the setter’s face.
“What can I say?” Yahaba answered simply, smiling as he leaned in. “Karma’s a bitch.”