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“It’s not fair!” Oikawa pouts.
“Wow, have you considered that I don’t give a shit?” Iwaizumi retorts, fists clenched at his sides like he’s trying to refrain from beating up his best friend over something as trivial as this.
“But I’m the captain! I should be able to decide that there’s no after-school practice this Friday so I can see the premier of Galatic Conquest!”
“You can see that movie literally hundreds of other times. We’ve got a practice match coming up! You can’t just cancel practice because you want to see some shitty sci-fi thing!” Iwaizumi yells.
Across the gym, Hanamaki sighs deeply. “Mattsun, if I ever make a scene like that, please intervene.”
“I’ve got your back, buddy,” Matsukawa says solemnly. “Oikawa’s such a drama queen.”
“They both are,” Hanamaki asserts. “You notice when Oikawa tries to pull that shit on us, we shut it down? Iwaizumi just gets angry. He takes the bait and rises to Oikawa’s act—or maybe it’s more like sinking to his level. Then it becomes… this.” He waves his hand vaguely in the direction of the quarreling co-captains.
“Should we interfere?” Matsukawa says after a moment.
“Nah, coach will be here in like two minutes. Best to steer clear completely,” Hanamaki says.
Sure enough, coach arrives, Oikawa bats his eyelashes and tries to win him over and is rejected even faster and harsher than Iwaizumi had done.
“Ouch,” Hanamaki and Matsukawa say at the same time.
It’s good to be them, Hanamaki thinks.
“Hanamaki… What exactly are you doing?” Matsukawa asks.
Hanamaki is seemingly rooting through the dirty laundry bin in the club room, flinging dirty socks and kneepads and practice jerseys over his shoulder as he leans over the hamper.
“Burying Yahaba,” Hanamaki responds, totally deadpan.
“Particular reason?” Matsukawa asks, equally straight-faced.
“Kyoutani’s turn to do laundry,” he says, as though it explains everything. And to Matsukawa, it kind of does. He’s been roped into more of Hanamaki’s shenanigans than anyone, and he knows fairly well how his friend’s mind works at this point. Years of best friendship and openness has helped, as well as just bearing witness to the glory (and failure) of Hanamaki Takahiro’s greatest pranks and schemes.
“Need any help?” he offers.
“Just need to make sure he actually comes and does it.”
“I’m on it,” Matsukawa says.
“He’ll listen to you?” Yahaba’s muffled voice cries out from the hamper.
“No, but I can complain to Iwaizumi that the laundry’s really smelly and whoever’s doing laundry today ought to get on it. He’ll be there in five minutes.”
“You’re the best, Mattsun!” Hanamaki praises. He begins piling the clothes he pulled out back into the hamper, arranging them carefully so they cover Yahaba completely but won’t suffocate him with either fabric or stench.
“Hang in there, Yahaba,” he says. “This is gonna work out great.”
Teenage boys, Hanamaki decides, are not very creative at truth or dare. He sighs as yet another first year dares someone to lick something gross—a shoe this time, but Iwaizumi’s armpit previously—he’s desperately waiting for his turn so he can mix things up.
He’s thinking a good dare might be making Kindaichi try to rap, or asking Matsukawa to show off his best runway walk.
Something besides just licking things.
The whole team is over at Watari’s for a sleepover. Matsukawa is sitting on Hanamaki’s right, observing the game looking almost as bored as Hanamaki is.
“I’d say they should’ve dared Kindaichi for this one, but I guess he’s used to licking boots,” Matsukawa whispers.
Hanamaki very poorly stifles a snort.
“I agree, seeing Watari lick a shoe is funny, but maybe Makki-chan needs a turn,” Oikawa teases. “How about it: Truth or Dare?”
“I’ll only pick dare if you can come up with something interesting,” he says, eyebrows raised.
“Oh, we can make it interesting,” Kyoutani says, rubbing his hands together.
“Calm down there, B-rate movie villain,” Makki deadpans.
Kyoutani growls in response, before being swatted upside the head by Iwaizumi.
“So you pick dare?” Oikawa confirms, ignoring whatever just happened next to him.
“Sure. Do your worst,” Hanamaki says, crossing his arms over his chest smugly.
“Alright, but this is a two person dare,” Oikawa says. “Who should I… Ah. Mattsun, the clear choice. Do you accept a dare, Mattsun?”
Matsukawa shrugs. “Why not.”
“Perfect!” Oikawa says, clapping his hands excitedly. His face shifts from kid-in-a-candy-shop excited to plotting-your-demise sinister. “I dare you to kiss each other. On the mouth.”
The team erupts in a chorus of “Ooooohhh!”s, and Hanamaki laughs a bit.
“That’s the best you got, Pretty Boy? C’mere, Mattsun, let’s liven this place up,” he says, smirking.
“Yeah, well, make it good! Little pecks don’t count! It’s gotta be a real kiss!” Oikawa taunts.
“It’s almost like our captain is a huge perv and just wants to watch us make out,” Matsukawa taunts lightly.
Without pretense or awkward dancing around it, Hanamaki leans over to Matsukawa, and they meet in a kiss.
Feeling extra impish at the fuss Oikawa has kicked up over this dare, Hanamaki brings his hands up to Mattsun’s face, and tils his head a little to deepen the kiss. Matsukawa responds in kind, and opens his mouth a bit.
Wolf whistles and jeers ring out, but Hanamaki’s not finished yet. In fact, this feels pretty good. Matsukawa is still moving his lips against Hanamaki’s, so he takes that as an okay to pull off one more stunt before they pull back.
He taps Matsukawa’s cheek with a finger to let him know he’s about to do something different, and then cracks one eye open to look at Oikawa before opening his mouth and licking at Matsukawa’s lips. Matsukawa responds nicely, and even gets a little too enthusiastic with his tongue.
It’s just for show, Hanamaki thinks, but he kind of likes how sloppy this kiss has gotten.
Hanamaki pulls back with a wet noise that he’s pretty sure sounds gross to everyone but him and maybe Matsukawa.
Oikawa is staring at them, slack-jawed like a fool, and Iwaizumi is slowly shaking his head in disbelief. Kindaichi is red enough to be called a radish instead of a turnip now, and Kunimi is respectfully looking away.
Kyoutani is howling with laughter, and Watari and Yahaba just clap when they finally break apart.
“Finally,” Watari says. “That was quite the show, you two.”
Hanamaki grins broadly, and Matsukawa laughs. “You asked for it. I mean, literally. Oikawa asked for it.”
“Please let’s move on to the next round so I can erase what I just saw with something new and stupid,” Oikawa moans.
“That was your idea, darling captain,” Hanamaki says. “You can’t complain; it’s exactly what you—“
“I know what I said!” Oikawa snaps. “I didn’t expect you two to just… do it! So cavalier!”
“It’s truth or dare,” Matsukawa says, “and you should know by now that Hanamaki and I take this and all games very seriously.”
“Very seriously,” Hanamaki echoes.
“Ugh!” Oikawa cries.
“Alright, I’ve got one I’ve been waiting to use for a while. Don’t disappoint me, now, Kindaichi-kun. Truth or dare?”
“You’re not gonna make me kiss anyone, right? Because I’ve never kissed anyone and I want it to be special, not a—“
“No, my dear kouhai. Once a dare’s been done, it’s boring to keep repeating it,” Hanamaki says, sending a glare around the circle at everyone who had dared others to lick things.
“Um, okay. Then… Dare.”
“Perfect. Kindaichi, I dare you to rap a verse about volleyball. Bonus points for rhyming!”
Hanamaki learns several truths that night: one, that Oikawa Tooru does indeed use product to style his hair, but Iwaizumi Hajime does too; two, that Kindaichi Yuutarou is actually a very good rapper and Hanamaki takes back every time he had thought Kindaichi was anything other than a lean, mean, rhyme-spitting machine; and three, that French-kissing his best friend was actually really, really fun.
When they finally crawl into their futons at quarter to four in the morning, Hanamaki sleepily watches Matsukawa settle into bed.
He figures he should mention that he found the kissing so enjoyable—after all, if he didn’t say anything, he might not get to do it again. But it can wait, he decides, when his head hits the pillow. He falls asleep in what feels like mere seconds, replaying the feeling of Mattsun’s lips on his.
In the morning, Watari-san has graciously agreed to cook breakfast for the whole team. Hanamaki is one of the first ones up, just after Watari and right before Matsukawa.
“G’morning,” Hanamaki mumbles when Matsukawa shuffles into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
“Help yourself, Matsukawa-kun,” Watari-san says. “This should be enough for you boys, so I’ll be in the garden if you need me. Make sure Shinji is a good host.”
“Will do!” Matsukawa calls after her as she closes the door behind her.
Hanamaki doesn’t blame her: he sort of wants to escape the carnage of nine teenaged boys eating breakfast, too.
Luckily, getting up early, he doesn’t think he’ll have to witness true chaos. Oikawa and Kunimi are late sleepers, if training camp is anything to go by, though secretly Makki thinks that Kunimi is just so lazy that he doesn’t want to get out of bed until he absolutely has to.
“How’d you sleep?” Watari asks, squeezing ketchup on his eggs.
“No complaints,” Matsukawa says.
“Same. You?” Hanamaki asks, trying to be polite. He surveys the spread on the table, deciding how hungry he actually is.
“Fine, fine.”
“No offense, Watari, but why are we being so awkward this morning? Like, small talk? What gives?” Hanamaki says.
“I think dear Shinji-kun might be embarrassed about our little display last night,” Matsukawa says matter-of-factly.
“Aww, is that so?” Hanamaki says. “No need to be embarrassed. We’re certainly not.”
“It was fun,” Mattsun says. “You should try making out with your friends some time, Watari.”
Hanamaki is more than happy to hear such a ringing endorsement from Matsukawa.
“Speaking of, Mattsun, I’d be down for more of that, if you’re interested,” Hanamaki says. They’ve never been coy or evasive about their feelings; why start now?
“Yeah, I’m interested,” Matsukawa says.
“Wait, that’s it?” Watari exclaims.
“What’s ‘it’?” Hanamaki asks.
“You’re just gonna all casual, like, talk about making out with each other at the breakfast table?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Matsukawa asks. “Why, you want in?”
Hanamaki raises his eyebrows casually. “I think I’ve got some time this Tuesday, Watari, if you want to--“
“No,” Watari interrupts, “that is not what I was going for. I actually have a girlfriend, unlike you two losers.”
“Well, I think I have a boyfriend now, so I’m not sure why you’re calling us losers,” Matsukawa says.
Hanamaki’s eyes light up. This is even easier than he thought it would be, and he didn’t think it would be that hard anyway. “Definitely not losers. We’re boyfriends,” he confirms with a solid nod. “That spells winner in my book.”
Matsukawa holds out his hand in a gesture that says “there you have it.”
Watari buries his face in his hands. “I feel like I just witnessed some kind of weird back-alley deal.”
“You’re a strange one,” Matsukawa says, taking a sip of his apple juice.
“Agreed,” Hanamaki says, and he smirks at Matsukawa. “But around here, that’s pretty par for the course.”
Four days go by, and Hanamaki concludes that he really enjoys having a boyfriend. They hold hands under the table, they steal little kisses when they’re alone. It’s comforting and warm and Hanamaki’s never dated anyone, so he doesn’t have anything to compare it to, but he has no real suggestions for improvement.
He and Matsukawa decide to keep it on the down low, mostly because they’re not flashy people, as much fun as they had teasing poor Watari at the breakfast table.
Another part of them simply doesn’t want to deal with some sort of ‘coming out’ fiasco that would potentially accompany their relationship becoming public knowledge. As far as Hanamaki is concerned, their orientations are really no one else’s business, and Matsukawa agrees.
“Not worth the hassle,” Hanamaki summarizes.
“Cool,” Matsukawa says. “So if we’re keeping things private, does that mean we’ll have to like, schedule our make outs?”
“Oh my gosh, you nerd,” Hanamaki laughs. “I mean, maybe a little. But mostly we can just hang out at each other’s houses and tell our parents we’re studying. Door closed, no problems. If you want, we can actually study, too.”
“Works for me. But you have to agree to buy me ramen once a month or something,” Mattsun says. “It’s the boyfriendly thing to do.”
“And what do I get in return?” Hanamaki asks, feigning offense.
“I’ll get you some profiteroles, if you like,” he offers.
“Deal. Now, as for this ‘scheduling’ business, my parents are actually going to some second cousin’s wedding or whatever in Osaka this weekend. Wanna come keep me company?”
“Hmm,” Matsukawa says. “I’ll pencil you in.”
Hanamaki shoves him lightly. “Fucking sharpie-marker me in, you ass.”
Matsukawa just laughs.
The weekend arrives just before Hanamaki loses his mind from the anticipation. He and Matsukawa haven’t kissed like they did at the team sleepover again, and he’s aching for it.
Of course, he has to play it totally casual when Matsukawa comes over. He has an image to maintain, after all. He tries to play it off like the hundreds of other times his best friend has come over, but he knows he’s practically vibrating with energy.
He decides to cut to the chase.
“So, I was going to try to act all good-hostly and ask if you want something to drink or eat, or what you want to do, but I’m hoping your answer is ‘no, no, and let’s make out.’”
Matsukawa laughs lightly. “I’m pretty sure that was the plan the whole time,” he says. “It seems I’ve written “Makki-Make Outs” in permanent marker in my agenda for today.”
“Oh, perfect,” Hanamaki sighs. “So, couch, my room, rolling around on that super ugly shag carpet in my mom’s office...?”
“You sure do know the way to a guy’s heart,” Mattsun says.
“Actually, that carpet is really soft. Kinda sounds fun,” Makki giggles. “You up for it?”
“It’s a very nice carpet, if you completely ignore what it looks like.”
“I’ll give you something nice and pretty to look at instead,” Hanamaki teases.
“I hope you’re talking about yourself, and not that Oikawa mask you made for Halloween last year.”
“Since he’s not here to cry about it, let’s set the record straight: I’m much prettier than Oikawa.”
“I second the motion,” Matsukawa says. “Now can we get to the making out part, pretty boy?”
“Ooh, bossy. I like it,” Hanamaki snarks, but takes Matsukawa by the hand and leads him to his mom’s study.
He opens the door and flicks on the light, looking around at the pile of papers on the desk, the whiteboards with scribbles about who-knows-what, and the general mess that is his mother’s home-office. He slowly turns to Matsukawa.
“On second thought, my bed is a lot less weird,” he laughs.
“Y’know, I was going to go along with it, because I trust you, but I’m glad you’ve changed your mind.”
They switch off the light and head down the hall to Hanamaki’s room.
Makki has about three seconds to consider if his room is tidy enough for company – it isn’t—before Matsukawa is holding him by the shoulders and kissing him, walking him backwards toward the bed as he does.
When the backs of his legs bump into the mattress, he grips Matsukawa’s arms to steady himself. He wants to appreciate kissing Mattsun when they’re both on equal ground for a moment. He wastes no time in opening his mouth, sucking Matsukawa’s lower lip into his mouth and tugging gently with his teeth.
Matsukawa tilts his head back and pulls free, diving right back in to catch Makki’s mouth, and he swipes his tongue against Makki’s aggressively.
Two can play at this game, Hanamaki decides, and he sticks his tongue right into Matsukawa’s mouth, still trying to move his jaw and work his lips over the others’.
Matsukawa slows him down, cups a hand to his jaw and guides him and holy shit how did Mattsun get so good at this?
The illusion is shattered moments later, though, when Matsukawa sucks a bit too hard on Hanamaki’s tongue, pulling at the frenulum.
“Ow!” he says, breaking the kiss off. “Not so hard.”
“Oops,” Matsukawa says with hooded eyes. “Got a little excited.”
“I like the enthusiasm, just not the trying to suck my tongue off part.”
“Noted,” Matsukawa says.
They kiss a few more moments, soft and sweet, trying to build back into the deep, wet kisses from before.
“Although,” Matsukawa says, breaking away from Makki again, “there are other things I could try to suck off that I think you might appreciate more.”
Hanamaki sputters. “Holy shit, dude. That’s…um… maybe… later?” he hedges. Not that he wouldn’t be totally interested in a blowjob, but he’s a little uncertain, and honestly just making out is enough for now.
He knows that Matsukawa has dated before, at least one girlfriend, and while he doesn’t know how far they went or if Matsukawa has any experience with guys, he finds that while his interest is there, he’s not really ready for all those experiences just yet. He’s still young, and there’s no need to go rushing headlong into things without really being sure.
“Relax, Takahiro,” Matsukawa says quietly, running his hands along his back in a soothing pattern. He kisses along Hanamaki’s jaw, soft little drops that make Hanamaki hum contentedly.
“Relaxing,” he says, stretching his neck out so Matsukawa has more room to work with.
After a few more light kisses to his throat, Matsukawa pulls back. “Wanna sit on the bed?” he asks.
Hanamaki grins and holds out his arms before flopping backwards onto his bed, bouncing a couple of times. “Is this the part where I lie back and think of England?”
“Why the hell would you think about England?” Mattsun chuckles before climbing carefully onto the bed, one leg snug between Hanamaki’s own.
“It’s an expression,” Hanamaki says, as though that explains everything, and he directs Matsukawa’s face back to his own.
They keep kissing, chaste kisses turning into more sensuous ones, and soon they’re filthy and wet and Hanamaki thinks these are his favorite.
Hanamaki is getting warm, though, and he pushes at Matsukawa to stop for a moment. “Hang on,” he says, and when Matsukawa rolls sideways off of him, he half sits up and yanks his shirt up and over his head.
“Whew, much better,” Hanamaki says before wrapping his arms around Matsukawa’s neck again and tugging him back down.
“No way, if you get to be shirtless, so do I,” Matsukawa says, pulling away from Hanamaki’s grip.
“No objections here,” Hanamaki says, and Matsukawa sits up again to take off his shirt.
“It’s getting hot in here,” Makki sings quietly, “so take off all your… shirts?”
“Acceptable,” Matsukawa sighs. Instead of lying back onto Hanamaki though, he rolls onto his back.
“Switch with me,” he tells Hanamaki.
Hanamaki clambers onto Matsukawa, perching on his hips for a moment and enjoying the view of straddling a shirtless Mattsun.
“You’re really hot,” Makki says honestly before he wiggles into a comfortable position lying on top of his boyfriend.
“I know, that’s why I took my shirt off.”
“I love that we’re still bantering like assholes in the middle of making out,” Makki smiles before swooping in to kiss Matsukawa slowly, swirling his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
“Mm,” Matsukawa hums, “do that again.”
Hanamaki does as asked, and this time Matsukawa’s tongue rises to meet his own and mirror the action.
Their kisses alternate between slow and smooth to frantic and aggressive, and eventually they fade to just a few lazy kisses, more resting mouths against each other than anything, until Makki slides off of Matsukawa’s hips and they both shift to lie on their sides facing each other.
“That was really nice,” Matsukawa says.
“Really nice,” Hanamaki emphasizes. “Hey, I really like you, you know that?”
“Yeah, me too. I think dating is going to work out just fine.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure. I mean, we were already best friends, and now we’ve discovered that making out is fantastic, and no offense or anything, but I’ve only recently realized that you’re really attractive.”
“No offense taken. I kinda pieced it together myself at Watari's, actually,” Hanamaki admits.
“When he finds out though, we need to make sure he doesn’t think he somehow set us up together, though.”
“Agreed. Honestly, I think today is what really sealed the deal for me.”
“Right on. Consider this our official boyfriends date. Now don’t go forgetting it, I expect anniversary presents,” Matsukawa deadpans.
“Anything for you, snookums,” Hanamaki replies, nuzzling his nose against Matsukawa’s.
Hanamaki decides he would very strongly recommend making out with your best friend.