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Iwaizumi wasn’t a man to open his door after midnight to whoever knocked with enough enthusiasm. Solitude was a city with a rich night-life, and it wasn’t uncommon for drunk hecklers to stumble their way up to the wrong house, getting frustrated as their keys don’t work and demand to be let in. Luckily for him, he didn’t spend nearly enough time at his own home to be bothered by the regular occurrence, favouring his own predilection to working far more than it would be healthy or needed.
But it helped keep his mind focused, so it wasn’t much of an issue.
This, however, was one of those few days when the stars aligned, and he found himself at home when the thuds came. Rhythmic, which was a sign that his late night visitor might be still reasonable enough to talk away from his home. Iwaizumi couldn’t really sleep well when the noise started, and in that night in particular he felt uniquely prone to staying awake for the entire night, completely missing the point of spending some time at home to rest. But alas, there wasn’t much he could do to dismiss something like insomnia. It was a lifelong commitment at that point, and he wasn’t about to contest his sleepless fate. At least not that night. Maybe tomorrow.
That night was to be spent in getting out of bed and going towards the front door. Iwaizumi wasn’t a man to open his door after midnight.
But he would recognize those knocks at any hour of the day.
The figure half-hidden by the shadows outside could easily be mistaken by a shambling drunkard if it wasn’t for his expensive tunic. The fabric, however, usually pristine, was in tatters, and through some holes on the piece of clothing Iwaizumi could make out blood. The face staring back at him had the smuggest of grins, crowned by a perfectly set hair he would never mistake for anyone else’s.
— Good night, good sir — Greeted Oikawa, pushing against the frame to straighten his back. He looked tired, Iwaizumi noted — I wonder if there would be any available spots in your fine inn?
Iwaizumi analysed him from head to toe once more before opening the door further to allow his late-night guest in.
— You can see yourself in, I would presume? — Iwaizumi inquired, looking with uncertainty at Oikawa’s slight limp.
— Oh yeah, totally, I’m on top of my gam— He tried to say before stumbling. Oikawa’s expression flinched, both from pain and from the expectation of falling on his face, but Iwaizumi’s arm broke his fall.
— I see that. Doing wonderfully well.
— Pristine — Oikawa grunted through his teeth as they both waddled through Iwaizumi’s living room. Oikawa seemed to try and make his way towards a comfortable looking seat, but Iwaizumi made sure to guide him towards a divan where he could lie down properly.
— I don’t have to ask whether you went to wherever the hell you were alone, right? — Iwaizumi asked as he squatted besides the divan, studying Oikawa’s reaction carefully.
— Oh, heavens, no! — Oikawa dismissed tiredly as he covered his eyes with the least bloodied of his arms, leaving only his grinning mouth exposed as he spoke — What do you make of me? I was accompanied in this expedition.
— A reliable companion is always good — Iwaizumi noted as he went to fetch something, coming back with a flask, a white towel and a small satchel — And I would presume you brought someone capable to watch your back and all that? Kageyama, since you last mentioned, tends to be very eager to accept any work.
— Oh, yeah. That kid is always very eager — Oikawa agreed bitterly — But no, I took Hinata with me this time.
— The hyper kid?
— The hyper kid.
Iwaizumi nodded as he dropped his items by the bedside, pushing the flask against Oikawa’s forearm.
— Bottoms up
Oikawa spied the potion from underneath his arm and made a pained expression.
— Oh, woe is me, for I am too weak to drink it on my own! I need a big, strong caretaker to tend for my pains! — He whined, incapable of avoiding a smile as he did so.
Iwaizumi balanced the flask on Oikawa’s chest and let it go, giving the wizard a half second to react and pick it up on his own before it spilled.
— Look at that, how mobile — Iwaizumi pointed out, grinning discreetly at Oikawa’s dissatisfied look — Make sure you drink it all, will you?
— Yes mom — Oikawa complained as he slowly sat up, helped by Iwaizumi. He drank the potion, slowly at first, but slowly accelerating as his body started to recover. Iwaizumi could see the cut on his arm starting to mend, and the bleeding seemed to diminish. But potions could only do so much, and Oikawa would need to rest further if he intended to fully recover.
As he finished his potion and was out of immediate danger, Iwaizumi let him lay down again and stood up to go fetch something else.
— Line — He said simply — So, what happened to Hinata? You didn’t leave him behind, did you?
— I wouldn’t! — Oikawa protested, flinching from the pain of trying to move abruptly — He’s going back to Winterhold.
— Wanna talk about what happened? — Iwaizumi suggested as he looked around a drawer until he found a proper string for stitching.
— Oh, it wasn’t anything major. Go inside a cave. Look around for cultists of the Wolf Queen, as one would do. Study anything you find along the way.
— By your condition, I’m assuming you ran into a very angry rat — Iwaizumi proverbially needled him as he literally needled the surrounding skin of the wounds to start stitching it up.
— Very f— Oikawa recoiled due to the pain, but forced himself to stay still — Always making fun of the hurt and ill. You idiot, Iwaizumi.
— Guess we’re both predictable then. Roll over.
Oikawa turned his back on his host as he felt warm hands and cold metal against his bruised skin. Every time it hurt the same, but there was tenderness behind the motion, so Oikawa didn’t whine. At least not for now.
— So, back to your adventures in the dusty caves — Iwaizumi egged him on.
— We found some cultists alright… A bit to the left…
— Here?
— Closer to the ri- YUP! Right there!
— Oh. My apologies.
— Don’t sweat it. We found some remnants of that crazy cult the Dragonborn dealt with a couple months ago. Not really enough to rebuild, but enough to cause trouble.
Iwaizumi ran his fingers up Oikawa’s back, tracing the edge of a deeper cut that followed dangerously close to his spine. His mind was torn between how irresistibly smooth his skin could feel and how infuriating it was that someone would dare to hurt him in any fashion. That, however, was no time for focusing on extreme emotions. He needed a firm grip not to harm the man before him.
— And you decided to bring that trouble to yourself, I can see.
— Trouble has a knack of going for me, what can Iiiaaaaahh… Careful there.
— It’s a shard of something. Doesn’t look like a weapon, though.
— Ah, motherfu- It’s probably a crystal. Is it a crystal?
— It is indeed a crystal.
— Don’t use a metal plier to take it out. Use something made of wood and drop it on wet fabric.
— Water will do?
— Water will do. Alcohol is dangerous. Orange or lemon juice would be perfect.
— Water it is, then.
A bowl was filled from a bucket, and in it a clean rag was dipped. Iwaizumi brought over a pair of hashi to pull out the shard stuck to Oikawa’s skin and slowly but surely removed it and wrapped it carefully with the wet rag.
— Ah, how wonderful, I can feel my lower back again. These cultists, I swear on the Divines, they have no class about their magic. Care to pass me the crystal?
— Something you see frequently?
Oikawa reached over carefully, trying to ignore the stinging pain as Iwaizumi put the fabric on his hands. A small speck of light shimmered and soon the rag and the crystal were floating above Oikawa’s palm, under his attentive eye.
— Not really. It’s reckless, messy, and weaker than any good, well-studied magic. But it’s quick to use, so some of these people go around doing it. The guy who hit me with this killed himself doing it, I’m pretty sure.
— In shame for using such bad magic? — Iwaizumi suggested, patting the open wound to dry out more blood before stitching.
— More like died by getting disintegrated by his own magic. That’s what you get if you’re not as invested in your skill and studies as someone like me, see? — Oikawa looked over his shoulder smugly, to which Iwaizumi nodded casually, not taking his eyes off the wounds.
— Your back is good to go, but I wouldn’t sit up just yet. Was Hinata hurt?
— Of course not! As if I would let him! I have some pride as a senpai, don’t you know?
Iwaizumi was looking at Oikawa’s sideways profile, the perfect image of stubbornness and arrogance. His wounds were mostly on his limbs and one to his back. Not one hit he had taken was aimed at him directly. Iwaizumi clicked his tongue as he took away his surgical tools.
— What’s that I hear? Complaining over helping such a helpless traveller! Oh, my saviour is but a fraud! — Oikawa’s face was covered by a large, loose shirt thrown over him. Upon closer inspection, he identified it as an old piece he used to wear when visiting over.
— Yeah, yeah. Now, I’m assuming you can walk to the room?
Oikawa’s eyes peered over the baggy shirt that sprawled over his bare chest, and Iwaizumi could make out the corners of a smile creasing his face.
— Ah, but the pain, it stings so deeply. I might lose all my beauty in scars and wounds if I dare to make an effort. If only there was-
— Very well — Iwaizumi cut him off — Then I hope the divan is to your liking. I’ll check up on you in the morning.
Oikawa watched in disbelief as hope and any shade of colour left his expression and his caretaker walked away.
— Iwa-chan! Don’t be mean! — He cried out, divided between anguish and annoyance — Leaving me here alone to suffer, shrivel up and die! Idiot Iwa-chan! Prison to you, prison for a thousand years!
Oikawa’s face was covered yet again, now by a much heavier blanket, muffling his spite. He felt hands wrapping him up in the fabric as he struggled to unveil his head, finding himself wrapped like a spring roll, and warm as one can be. Iwaizumi leaned over him, taking him on his arms and carrying him away.
— Stop wriggling for a second — Iwaizumi said sternly as he manoeuvred through Oikawa’s belongings spread around the floor and his own furniture. Oikawa kept pouting, annoyed, as his wrapped body swayed on his host’s arms — And stop staring at me like that. Your face is gonna get permanent wrinkles.
— My face would never get wrinkles! — He protested, but all Iwaizumi showed as a reaction was a faint smile.
They reached the bedroom, and Oikawa’s wrapped body was laid over the soft mattress. Though careful, the motion stung on Oikawa’s many bruises, but he made an effort not to flinch. Iwaizumi, despite Oikawa’s protests, carefully positioned a pillow under his head and got on his knees by the bedside to give the wizard one last check up. Iwaizumi’s brows were furrowed as his eyes studied the man before him from head to toe. Oikawa seemed uncomfortable with the attention, but he wasn’t going to ask him to stop. There was silence between the two for what seemed like an unending minute, and that late at night it was impossible to guess how time even worked. Not that it mattered, under the unwavering, careful eyes of the man kneeling at his side.
Iwaizumi raised one hand to Oikawa’s face, who closed his eyes until he felt warm fingers against his forehead.
— Looks like you’re heating up again — Iwaizumi noted, visibly relieved.
— Idiot… — Oikawa mumbled, shuffling a few centimetres away.
— Hmmm? Got something to say?
— Nothing to you, clearly. Stupid Iwa-chan.
— Ah, that’s good, then. I was starting to worry you were getting all emotional on me — Iwaizumi said, running his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, caressing the back of his head.
Oikawa flipped back around, his face flustered and red as he stared back at Iwaizumi.
— And what-
Oikawa felt his words stop flowing as Iwaizumi’s face got closer. Way too close. His world became a pair of green eyes, half visible in the low light from the living room, and the soft, warm feeling touching his lips for a moment that lasted too long for a man out of breath, and too little for a man to make up for lost time.
When he opened his eyes again, Iwaizumi’s face, illuminated by the candles outside, was smiling at him, a longing and relieved smile.
— I’m glad you’re back.
Oikawa didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He chose to believe that the reason was his breath being cut short from the kiss. But it mattered little. Iwaizumi knew the why, so there was no room for pretending otherwise, but Oikawa saved himself the privilege for some delusion.
— I’ll see you in the morning. Rest well — Iwaizumi stood up, waking Oikawa up from his own thoughts as he did.
— Where are you going at this time of night? It’s far too late for adventuring!
— Says the man who got here long past midnight. Sun’s about to break outside.
— Even so! You can stay and rest here! Or are you going out to seek revenge for my wounds? How gallant! — Oikawa said the last word with a pained expression as his movement risked reopening a wound.
— I’ll be sleeping in the living room — His face got close again — I’d struggle with letting you rest if I was by your side. Can’t have you exerting yourself now, can we?
Oikawa sunk his mouth and nose under the covers as he followed Iwaizumi out of the room with his eyes. His eyes were stern as usual, but the damn man grinned from ear to ear. He couldn’t help but hate how much he loved that expression on his face. His heart was pounding, and his entire body felt on fire, from pain and anticipation. But sleep came quickly, by a mix of the potion’s effect, the pain-relieving paste on his entire body, the comfort of the bed, and the expectation of getting to enjoy that expression tomorrow when he could stand on two feet again.