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“I am 100% certain that this is the best idea we’ve ever had.”
“A whole 100%? Better than the Valentine’s Day prank?”
“Oh, duh. This isn’t gonna end in anything getting set on fire. So I’m figuring by default that makes it way better than that.”
“Fair enough.”
Hanamaki tossed a key into the air and caught it before it hit the ground. It gave an inviting jingle on its simple chain. “You don’t think Iwaizumi ever noticed it was missing, do you?”
“No,” Matsukawa replied as he tucked his wallet into his back pocket, balancing a heavy shopping bag in the crook of his elbow. “Even if he did, he probably thought he left it somewhere. Funny that he had one, though. I didn’t think couples exchanged house keys until they were out of college.”
“Please, Iwaizumi and Oikawa have been married for at least five years already. That’s why they bicker like an old couple.”
“Hey, if you’re free enough to play around with Oikawa’s house key, you can at least open up the trunk for me so I can put this crap inside. Car keys are in my left pocket.”
“Roger.”
With Hanamaki’s help, Matsukawa gently laid down the bag of groceries and tucked them away next to his volleyball gear. He took out the large box at the bottom and presented it to Hanamaki for approval. The cake inside, visible through the plastic top, was round with a cheesy volleyball printed onto the surface. In teal icing, it read: “Yes, It’s Ice Cream Cake – Happy Birthday Captain.”
“I figured that after three years of knowing the guy, we’d learn to answer the omnipresent question before he had a chance to ask it,” Hanamaki said.
Matsukawa nodded in approval and placed the box outside of the bag so it wouldn’t be crushed under the pile of miscellaneous party paraphernalia. “I think the card is the best part about all of this, to be honest.”
“Oh, crap, we gotta sign that. Have a pen?”
“Check the glove box, I think there’s one in there.”
Hanamaki went to poke around the passenger’s side of the car, leaving Matsukawa to play with his phone. It was past 9:00 PM; Oikawa had to be home by now. At that moment, he was probably sitting on the couch in his dumb space-printed boxer briefs watching some dumb reality TV show. His birthday wasn’t until Monday, but they figured that he and Iwaizumi would want the weekend to themselves. On any other occasion, Hanamaki and Matsukawa would be more than eager to track down wherever they went for their date and thoroughly cockblock them every step of the way. After all, what were fake in-laws for? They had to do what was necessary to keep the peace around their little town.
But for big events like birthdays and anniversaries, they knew better than to meddle in their plans. Chiefly because Iwaizumi had one hell of a temper when he’d gone out of his way to be romantic, only to find Hanamaki and Matsukawa lurking a few tables away at their restaurant of choice for the night. They had to find this out the hard way. Never again, they had agreed, bruises swelling on the crowns of their heads. Never again.
Getting back to the point, even if Oikawa happened to have a social life outside of volleyball – which was incredibly unlikely but Hanamaki and Matsukawa carefully considered the possibility nonetheless – they’d just stick the cake in the fridge and busy themselves looking through his desk. Either outcome would be more than satisfactory. They would either scare the crap out of Oikawa and mollify him with cake, or find incriminating evidence of his kinky sex life and use the cake to butter him up for some epic bean-spilling. If that didn’t work, Matsukawa had a couple of beers from his older brother in the trunk. It was a win-win situation. Surprises, Oikawa making a fool out of himself, and cake. And, of course, stupid party hats and an even stupider card.
“I got a marker.”
“Great. Do you wanna sign first, or should I?”
“I have a really great idea, lemme sign first.”
Hanamaki grabbed the greeting card from the plastic bag and flipped it open. The front of it read: “Happy Birthday, You’ve Ruined My Life,” with a background of colorful balloons. Hey, what could they say? It was accurate. Matsukawa looked on as Hanamaki scribbled in the blank space on the inside of the card and hoped he wouldn’t take up the entire thing with some ironic monologue. But within a minute, Hanamaki handed the card and marker to him with a stifled chuckle.
“He’ll like it,” he explained.
Matsukawa raised an eyebrow as he opened the card. “‘Congratulations on finally being of legal age to do all the dirty shit you do with Iwaizumi. I promise I won’t turn you in to the police.’ Can you retroactively turn him in for that?”
“No, but he doesn’t need to know that.”
Matsukawa wrote in a snarky comment of his own – “Don’t bust your knee in bed this weekend, you have a career to think about” – before sliding it into the envelope and licking the glue to close it. He tossed it back into the bag and closed the trunk, chuckling under his breath. “Let’s get going before it gets too late.”
“How can it get too late? It’s a Friday night, and we certainly don’t have practice tomorrow.”
Matsukawa climbed into the front seat and waited until Hanamaki had buckled up to start the car. “You know how my mom gets. She loses it if I get home even a minute past 11.”
Hanamaki snorted. “Lame. What’s she gonna do when you move out? Track your location to make sure you’re where you’re supposed to be?”
“I dunno, you know, she’s got her ways. If she got wind that I was out clubbing at night, she’d come find me and kick my ass.” Matsukawa pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto the road. “No, realistically she’d just yank me by the ear and scold me about getting someone pregnant. Even though I’m a bigger virgin than Kindaichi.”
Hanamaki kicked up his feet on the dashboard and folded his arms behind his head. “That’s not a hard thing to achieve. He got with Kunimi after all.” The car stopped short as Matsukawa caught a stop sign out of the corner of his eye, and Hanamaki choked on the spit in his mouth. “Jesus, be careful.”
“No. You’re kidding me. Them?”
“Yeah, like, remember when Kindaichi was getting all worked up at practice a couple of months ago? And Kunimi gave him that look and his face turned red and that quieted him down. I know bedroom eyes when I see them, Mattsun.”
Matsukawa crept into the intersection and looked both ways before driving ahead. “Oh, now I call bullshit. I thought you meant you actually saw them hook up, like with Kunimi’s hand down Kindaichi’s shorts.”
“I’d think it’d be the other way around, though,” Hanamaki mused. “Kindaichi could take the initiative if Kunimi offered himself up.”
The thought simmered in Matsukawa’s head as he made a left and slowed to a stop at a yellow light. “I dunno. I never pegged – oh, dammit, forget I used that word.”
“No, no, too late. Just say it.”
“Ugh, you suck – I never pegged Kindaichi as the dominant type. He’s big and he’s stubborn as hell, but I can’t envision him making any first moves.”
Hanamaki watched as the cars drove by ahead of them and leaned his chin into his hand. He checked his phone for any new texts before replying to Matsukawa. “But you can envision Kunimi? The guy’s a natural pillow princess. He’d want someone to spoil him.”
“Alright, I’ll give you that.” The light turned green and Matsukawa pressed on the gas, noticing that it was already 9:30 – where did the time go? “But he’d be the initiating pillow princess. Like, ‘Stop what you’re doing and pay attention to me. Now.’ Like Oikawa. Except Kunimi’s probably less annoying about it.”
“Anyone is less annoying about it than Oikawa. He could be begging Iwaizumi for a blow job in the club room. With us standing right there.”
Matsukawa laughed. “Maybe he does it just to get on his nerves? Or get on our nerves?”
“Or maybe he’s an exhibitionist and Iwaizumi is a killjoy.”
“True. Do I turn right or left here?” Matsukawa fiddled with the GPS screen built into the dashboard before Hanamaki could answer. “A right, okay.”
“It’s a slight right, be careful. His house is at the end of the block, so try to find parking as soon as you can. We don’t want him seeing us.”
Matsukawa did as he was told and pulled into the first spot he saw on Oikawa’s street: it wasn’t the smoothest park in the world, but it got the job done and they had enough room to open the trunk and take out all their party goods. Hanamaki took the cake and grocery bag while Matsukawa locked up the car, and took out a couple of cardboard party hats.
“Here,” he whispered, handing them to Matsukawa.
“You don’t have to whisper, he’s all the way down the block, in his house.” Matsukawa stretched the cord under his chin and settled the hat atop his head, then aided Hanamaki in donning his own. “Heh, hey, orange suits you. You could’ve been on Karasuno.” He tugged on the elastic and snapped it against his neck.
Hanamaki elbowed him in the chest with a bark of laughter. “Asshole. Let’s just get to his house before he falls asleep into his greasy popcorn bowl.”
“Good idea.”
The lights were on, so the fear of no one being home subsided with ease. As a bonus, the car was out, and they knew for a fact that Oikawa couldn’t drive to save his life. A certain thrill of excitement strolled down Hanamaki’s back and Matsukawa could barely restrain his sniggering as they traipsed up the steps. The storm door was unlocked, leaving them about a square meter of wiggle room before the front door. They went back and forth hushing each other as they tried to squeeze in and close the storm door behind them. The grocery bag crinkled and it seemed like the loudest possible noise in the world.
“Mattsun, he’s going to hear us!” Hanamaki mouthed, his voice only audible since his mouth was a mere few centimeters from Matsukawa’s ear. “Where’s the key?”
“I thought you had it, dumbass,” Matsukawa snapped, giving him a backwards look. “You were the one tooling around with it in the parking lot.”
“Right. Right right right shit where did I put that. Hold on hold the cake and the bag.”
“If you lost the key, Makki, I swear–”
“Be careful with the bag, you’re gonna drop it…!”
The grocery bag fell between them with a “thud!” and they swore in unison, then hushed each other in sync. They remained still for a minute, listening for any signs of life within the house. When all was clear, Hanamaki sighed in relief.
Matsukawa clung onto the cake for dear life as he gathered up the spare party hats and streamers and noisemakers and tossed them back into the bag. “If Oikawa hears us, it’ll be your fault,” he grumbled.
“He hasn’t heard us thus far, maybe he’s in the shower or something.” Hanamaki procured the key from his back pocket with another sigh. “Oh thank god, that’s where I thought I put it.”
“Great. Take the bag, idiot.”
Hanamaki pitched up his voice and mimicked Oikawa’s signature pout, “Rude.”
At that, Matsukawa couldn’t help but snort as he fidgeted with the key and slid it into the lock on the doorknob. “I dare you to do that impression around him.”
“Oh, no, he’d kill me. Or have me arrested for copyright infringement.”
“He would. Alright, I’m gonna unlock the door, and on three, I’m gonna turn the knob and we’ll yell ‘Happy Birthday.’ Sound good?”
“Yes, brilliant. On three,” Hanamaki snickered, bracing himself to storm through the door. “One…”
“Two…”
“Three!”
Matsukawa inelegantly slammed his body into the door – “Shit!” Hanamaki hissed – and it swung open and hit the wall with a bang. They issued a haphazard cheer and presented the birthday cake with matching grins and party hats, but Oikawa was not alone on the couch in his underwear, watching reality TV. Oikawa was not out and about, and he was not taking a shower.
No, to the terrible misfortune of Hanamaki Takahiro and Matsukawa Issei, Oikawa Tooru was bent over the kitchen table, and he certainly wasn’t alone.
“Oh, fuck.”
This was the last thing Hanamaki could say before two shrieks of horror drowned out all other sound. Oikawa shoved Iwaizumi away from him and tried to grab for a rag to cover his shame, but instead fell to the floor in a panic. Iwaizumi turned red from the tips of his ears to the tips of his fingers, but Hanamaki saw no more once Matsukawa yanked him out of the house, slammed the door, and shouted, “Run!”
They stumbled down the stairs and bolted down the block, the birthday cake bouncing in its container as it was the least of their problems. Matsukawa’s shoelace must have come undone at some point, for now he was sprinting for his life while grumbling “ow ow ow ow ow” as various bits of loose gravel dug into his bare foot. Hanamaki’s breath was heavy in his ears and he let out a spurt of expletives when he hit his forehead on the roof of the car before clambering in. Matsukawa didn’t wait for him to put on his seatbelt before whipping around in a U-turn and speeding down the road as fast as he could go without running someone over.
“I can’t–”
“Don’t speak,” Matsukawa muttered, the whites of his eyes glimmering in the passing street lights. “Gimme like, five minutes.”
Matsukawa pulled into the corner of first empty parking lot he found and jerked the keys out of the ignition. Hanamaki stared at him for a few moments, his breath still heavy from physical exertion.
“Oh my fucking god,” Matsukawa breathed, letting his head thud against the steering wheel. “God. Dammit. I need some bleach.”
Still cradling the messy cake in his lap, Hanamaki burst out in a fit of uncharacteristic giggles. “I’m fucking wheezing.”
“They just. Can’t. Keep it.”
“In their pants, yes.”
“I never, ever wanted to see–”
“–as much of Oikawa–”
“–or Iwaizumi–”
“–as we saw there.”
“Fuck!” Matsukawa covered his eyes with his hand and kicked the floor of the car. “Did you see the look on Iwaizumi’s face?”
“I wish that’s where my eyes looked first, but his dick was just flailing around…”
“And Oikawa fell flat on his ass.”
“Did that just happen?” Hanamaki took the party hat off his head, staring into the distance like it’d give him an answer. “Did we really just walk in on Oikawa and Iwaizumi while they were fucking?”
Matsukawa heaved out a choked laugh. “We did.”
“We fucking did. I thought our first time seeing that would have been sooner.”
“Dammit. Dammit. Iwaizumi is going to murder us.”
A chill made Hanamaki shudder. “Shit. We’re dead men.”
“He’s going to murder us. And piss in our ashes.”
“I wouldn’t blame him. We ruined their night of romantic birthday lovemaking.”
“Oh, screw that, it’s not their first or their last,” Matsukawa said, sliding his hand away from his face and taking off his hat as well. “But still. God. We’re dead.”
“We should go pray,” Hanamaki suggested.
“They should go pray. Iwaizumi was pulling on Oikawa’s hair like it was a handle,” Matsukawa replied, groaning in agony.
Hanamaki returned his groan with a look of disgust. “Okay, okay, no, we’re not talking about the details of our friends fucking.”
“You were just doing that with Kindaichi and Kunimi.”
“That doesn’t count. They’re underclassmen who aren’t about to kill us.”
Hanamaki lifted the cake off his lap with a grimace. “The cake’s gonna melt. I spent half my last paycheck on all these crappy party supplies.”
“Well,” Matsukawa reached into the bag at Hanamaki’s feet and pulled out a box of plastic utensils. “We could just eat it.”
“Really? We break into Oikawa’s house, ruin his chances of getting laid, and now we’re gonna eat his birthday cake?”
They climbed out of the car, sat on the curb of the parking lot, and helped themselves to heaping piles of half-melted ice cream cake. Hanamaki finished his first slice in less than a minute and went for a second one.
“Good thing we got chocolate,” he remarked, “chocolate’s my favorite.”
“Same here,” Matsukawa agreed. “I mean, if we’re gonna die within a week by Iwaizumi’s hands, we might as well have some damn good cake before it happens.”
“True.” Hanamaki swallowed and turned toward Matsukawa. “Maybe if we’re lucky they’ll run off to college before Iwaizumi has a chance to throttle us.”
“Let’s hope.”
A comfortable silence settled over their heads as they watched the cars drive down the boulevard. People walked by laughing about some joke that their friend told them, and a street lamp flickered a ways away. Before they knew it, the cake had disappeared altogether, leaving them to lick the melted ice cream off the platter.
“I have some beer in the trunk,” Matsukawa said.
“Yeah?”
“Wanna have some?”
Hanamaki faked a scoff. “What about your mother, Mattsun? I don’t want to be the one at fault for corrupting you.”
“You won’t be.” Matsukawa grinned. “I’ll accept all the blame.”
“Oho, what’s this? Mattsun’s got a rebellious streak.”
Matsukawa stood up and retrieved the case of beer from his trunk. He slid out a can and passed it to Hanamaki. “Maybe it’s just the adrenaline.”
Cracking open the lid, Hanamaki chuckled. “I’ll accept that.”