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Tooru balances the sunglasses on his head just so, hair covering about ¼ the way up. He smoothes some tufts down and flicks a couple locks into position. He tilts his head up so the sun casts a natural contour over his face as he pouts and poses for the picture, squinting and trying expressions. It’s moving day into his first official apartment, completely his own. He’s twirling around among the boxes in the front door, checking the angles, when he catches someone staring incredulously at him in the corner.
He takes the picture, head tilting towards the boxes and empty space. It goes up immediately on Instagram, and he puts his best customer service smile on and faces his new guest in the doorway.
“Hi! I’m guessing you’re my new neighbor?” Tooru strides forward and stretches his hand out into the space between them.
“Yeah. Iwaizumi Hajime, in 3C. Need a help with the boxes?” Iwaizumi shakes his hand and Tooru then notices the firmness of his hand, traveling up to the solidness of his arm. Tooru wrenches his eyes away, but the glance had been enough.
“I do, actually.” He smiles brightly, even though what’s left in the rented truck could wait a while. If there’s free help in the hazy heat of the middle of summer, especially so kindly offered by an attractive man, Tooru’s not going to be one to refuse.
***
“Iwa-chan!” Tooru says, knocking on the door of 3C. All the stores in the area are closed, convenience stores near closing, so with an empty cup he goes to his neighbor’s place. “Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan! I can see the light on from the balcony, I know you’re there!”
A few moments later reveals Iwaizumi, stubble ambitiously reaching 5 o’clock shadow status at two in the morning, boxer shorts, and a glare that could curdle milk if Tooru had any.
“What the fuck, Oikawa. People sleep at this time.” Iwaizumi rebukes, anger and exhaustion making them sharp in the quiet hallway.
“People do, but you aren’t.” He hums back. “I just need some milk.”
Iwaizumi stares at the cup as if it holds answers to all the important questions of the world. He closes his eyes and sighs, head dropping into his chest. “Fine. Come in, I guess.”
Tooru follows him in, taking in the light decoration around the room. The structure is similar to his own, but Iwaizumi had chosen to decorate lightly, working with color schemes and necessary items. Framed pictures lined the walls, and Tooru glances at them quickly, already working on an excuse to visit later and properly look at Iwaizumi’s past. It’s hard to imagine him as anything other than the solidly responsible neighbor.
He follows into the kitchen, a small two person space with a counter, a stove, a sink, and a corner for the fridge. He pulls the milk out and takes the cup from Tooru’s hand, fingers brushing his. He fills it to the top, then stows it away.
“Why do you need milk this late at night?” Iwaizumi asks, leading him out the door. He crosses his arms and Tooru manages an honorable three seconds before giving in and watches the shift of muscles in his crossed forearms.
“Oatmeal.” Tooru smiles brightly at him.
He grimaces harshly, a face typically reserved for the worst things in life. “Oatmeal. You enjoy oatmeal?”
“Yes?” Tooru takes a sip out of his cup of milk.
“Last I checked, oatmeal involved water. Not milk.”
“Iwa-chan!” Tooru gasps, revolted. The horror, oatmeal made from water. “This is why you don’t like oatmeal. You’ve been eating a crime in a pot. It’s ok, Iwa-chan, you can always come by my place and have some!” He winks as Iwaizumi nods sarcastically and shuts the door.
*
Tooru rearranges his scarf and knocks on the door of 3C, whistling as he raps sharply. In the other hand are folded printed tickets, edges soft as he ripped extra space off. He stands and knocks again, hoping Iwaizumi’s in, just in the bathroom or otherwise temporarily occupied. He’s about to leave when the door swings open.
He immediately catches the smell of acrid smoke, light, yet still intense enough to push him back a few steps. Iwaizumi stands in the doorway and Tooru hopes he opened a window, because the smoke pushing towards the ceiling looks heavy enough to trigger the fire alarm. He steps out of the apartment and Tooru can see a weight drop from his shoulders at the clean air.
“Hmm, so Superman Iwa-chan has his faults too.” Tooru says, biting his lip to stop the victorious smile from spreading any further across his face.
“What?” Iwaizumi says, still sounding slightly out of breath. He tilts his head and looks up at Tooru, chestnut eyes twinkling in the low hallway light. Tooru watches Iwaizumi blink up at him, eyelashes casting a shadow over his cheekbones, sweeping any thoughts away aside from a warm appreciation for his neighbor.
“You’re the ultimate neighbor: quiet, has spare food, helps out sometimes.” Tooru shrugs. Iwaizumi nods and crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall frame. He looks calmly at Tooru, small smile softening his face but rendering it impossible for Tooru to look anywhere other than the small dips in his cheeks.
He quirks an eyebrow and Tooru leans in, a little to see what he’d do, a lot to see more of him up closer.
“My date bailed last second and I have an extra ticket for tonight’s showing for the robot movie that came out a couple days ago.” He produces the pieces of paper and holds them between his index and middle fingers. Iwaizumi holds his hand out and he drops them in the palm.
He’s hesitation written over his features, all the way down to the slightly opened mouth, dark lips neither smiling nor saying anything.
“The question of dinner would be solved if you come.”
“Let me change my clothes.” Iwaizumi says, handing the tickets back to Tooru. He hurries back into his apartment, the door throwing a puff of smoky air at Tooru as it closes.
***
“So I found the prequels.”
Tooru stares at Iwaizumi in his doorway, packets of microwave popcorn in one hand and a few dvd cases in the other. It’s the bright joy in his face that Tooru squints at in confusion, incomparable with the sunlight filtering in through the curtains.
“What?” Tooru whispers, voice still rough from sleep. He had taken his blanket and wrapped it around him when he heard the rhythmic knock, the apartment cold from the beginnings of autumn. The heating in the building hadn’t turned on yet but Iwaizumi stands in his entryway in a thin salmon t-shirt and grey sweats.
“The movie we saw in the theaters a few weeks ago? I found the prequels to it.” Iwaizumi waves the dvd cases.
Tooru stands there, contemplating an entire day of sitting next to Iwaizumi and watching movies, or doing his usual chores around the apartment. It’s not hard to pick an option.
He nods. “Let me brush, and you can do something with breakfast.” He says, holding two fingers up.
“I made too many scrambled eggs and pancakes just a little while ago, do you want them?” Iwaizumi says, setting the cases down on his table and getting water out for coffee.
“Hmm I don’t know Iwa-chan, last time you cooked, you burned down your apartment!” He looks up innocently through his lashes at Iwaizumi.
“Looks like my food’s too burnt for you.” He says, deadpan.
“No, no it’s ok!” Tooru says, huddling back to put his blanket down and get ready, the promise of food pushing his feet faster.
He comes back to the table full of plates and Iwaizumi looking for his K-cups. He hangs back, watching Iwaizumi lean on his toes to look up into his cabinets, a soft surge of affection pulling him forward, his hand steadying himself on Iwaizumi’s shoulders to reach for the box of coffee cups.
He drops down with gratitude on his lips over the breakfast but stops at how close he is. There’s a scant few inches between them, and Tooru can see the bits of gold in Iwaizumi’s eyes, the pupil widening, the gentle curl of lashes. There’s the tint of morning oranges on him, and the clean mint of his shampoo.
Tooru steps back and lands hard on his control, handling his ragged breath before it’s noticeable. “You know, you shouldn’t drink coffee Iwa-chan. It’ll make you shorter than you already are!”
*
Tooru stuffs a hat over his head and braces himself for the cold rush of air as he opens the door, instead being met with a shadow of a large collection of scarves and puff jacketry. Above the wool and below the black beanie are chestnut eyes, creasing in relief. Tooru steps to the side and Iwaizumi hurries in.
He immediately pulls his scarf away from his mouth and blows air out. “You really shouldn’t go outside like that, Oikawa.”
Tooru puts another scarf on and goes to get the mail. By the time he’s back, his fingers are numb and he’s sure his nose is another color entirely. He rushes in and Iwaizumi’s helping himself to the cookies on his kitchen counter.
“Iwa-chan, you didn’t tell me I’d die out there!” He whines as he holds his hands under the hot water.”
“I tried but you ran out anyways. Can’t stop the idiot who doesn’t listen.” Iwaizumi shrugs.
“Why are you here anyways?” Tooru says as Iwaizumi settles down with a cup of coffee on his sofa.
“Kicking me out already, you’re so rude Oikawa. The heating broke down in my apartment so I’m going to stay here until they come in to fix it.” He says, laying down on the sofa. Tooru comes around, lifts his legs up, and settles down under them.
“I didn’t think it’d be this cold, though.” Tooru says, glancing at Iwaizumi.
“It’s supposed to go into the higher negatives for the rest of the week. Why do you think everybody’s been panicking?” Iwaizumi says as he flips through the channels. Tooru takes the box of cookies off Iwaizumi’s stomach and sits back as he gives up on the current channels and pulls up a recorded showing of Godzilla again.
“Ok. Ok. I understand. Yeah. No, I’d just like it to be as soon as possible. Alright, thank you.” Iwaizumi shuts his phone off and sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.
“What is it?”
“They’ll try to fix it but there won’t be any promises for it being done quickly. Earliest would be a few days, maybe.” Iwaizumi says, looking in the general direction of his apartment.
“You can stay here.”
Iwaizumi turns around to look at him, and after a beat, he softens. “Yeah. I’ll just get my stuff.”
He goes out and returns not long later, with bags of clothes in his hands and a light dusting of snow on his shoulders. Tooru’s done cleaning up for the day, and it’s when Iwaizumi’s flopping down on the sofa that he puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Come on, let’s go to sleep.”
Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. “I am going to sleep.” He puts his hands behind his head and tilts it, an image of lazy relaxation. Tooru puts his hand into the crook of his elbow and pulls up.
“Iwa-chan what type of host would I be if I made you sleep on the couch when there’s plenty of space with me?” Tooru says, voice lilting. He imagines it’d be perfect, sleeping next to Iwaizumi, waking up in the morning to him and snow falling outside.
Iwaizumi follows him with mild protest, low enough that Tooru can tell they’re there just to claim he said it. Once in the room, Tooru turns around to go to the bathroom and do his normal face routine. He indulges himself here, imagines a life where it doesn’t take a blizzard and a freezing apartment to get Iwaizumi into his bed. A life where he doesn’t have to try at all, because there’d already be an Iwaizumi shaped dip in his bed.
By the time he gets back, Tooru’s sure he may have miscalculated exactly how happy he’d be sleeping next to Iwaizumi. He’s sitting up on his phone, shirtless, blanket starting exactly where his pajama bottoms do. Tooru stares shamelessly at him, watching how his whole body shakes with laughter at his phone, miles and miles of sand skin.
He imagines how it’d be if this were his everyday. Or at least his more often than not.
“What’s so funny?” He says instead, pulling up the blanket and sliding in.
Iwaizumi shows him a picture of a dog walking on hind legs. He turns the light off and ignores the extra light coming from Iwaizumi’s phone.
Tooru wakes up the next morning to the hazy smell of waffles and eggs, something sizzling and the gentle warmth of strong coffee. The light’s shining through the window, extra bright, and Tooru walks over to see the windows frosted up. He goes into the kitchen, where Iwaizumi’s whistling and flipping something, grey sweatpants hanging low over his hips.
“Good morning~” Tooru says, coming close and resting his chin on Iwaizumi’s shoulder.
“Morning. What time do you have to be out by?” Iwaizumi whispers as he turns the omelette.
“About an hour. You?”
“In a couple hours. We have a while.” Iwaizumi takes the omelette off and wipes the oil off the pan. He takes the box of butter and coats the bottom before pouring a generous amount onto the pan. Tooru looks up from his position on Iwaizumi’s shoulder and watches his mouth move as he whistles.
Pink lips pulling skin across his face, puckering up to softly whistle a tune. His head moves a little to the tune, moving up and to the sides, careful not to dislodge Tooru. There’s a patch of skin on Iwaizumi’s cheek, looking warm from the stove. It looks soft, something he wouldn’t normally expect from Iwaizumi. He thought Iwaizumi woke up with stubble and was something of a lumberjack until he went to the bathroom.
He watches the patch turn redder as the time goes on, him staying on Iwaizumi’s shoulder watching him whistle, Iwaizumi being aware of the stare. He doesn’t question Tooru about why, and Tooru’s caught him licking his lips way more than whistling would require.
He leans up and presses his lips to that delightfully warm patch on his cheek. Iwaizumi immediately stops whistling. Tooru gets off his shoulder and looks at him unapologetically. Iwaizumi’s mouth is open and Tooru can see the moment he makes a decision because his eyes lose that surprise, instead filling with something hot, he can’t tell what it is for long because there’s a hand curling around the back of his head cradling him in place, and firm lips pressing his.
He gets over the shock enough that he pulls in closer, one hand on the counter and the other in the curve of Iwaizumi’s back. He kisses back, lips moving pleasantly. They break to take a breath and Tooru catches the slack relief so obvious in Iwaizumi’s face, his brow unfurrowed, his shoulders dropped. Tooru cups Iwaizumi’s face and take his lips again, soft and then running his tongue against his lips, moving in as Iwaizumi opens his mouth. Tooru’s hands push back through Iwaizumi’s hair, ending up behind his neck as Iwaizumi puts the spatula down and takes his hips instead.
They pull apart when they smell smoke as the pancake burns in the pan. Iwaizumi immediately picks the pancake up and throws it into the trash can as Tooru turns the exhaust fan on. He watches as Iwaizumi pours water over the pan, and tries to hide his giggles, half still lightheaded from the kiss, half because Iwaizumi burns everything he cooks.
“Don’t even say it, I can hear you.” He says above the drone of the tap. A snort escapes Tooru and then a giggle, and Iwaizumi watches him with fond resignation. It turns into a grin and Tooru turns to go to the bathroom, humming all the way.