Archive of Our Own ^beta

The dull and repetitive thud, thud of heavy feet slapping against the treadmill machine, the strained grunts coming from the weights corner, the somewhat crackly music blasting softly from the overhead speakers, and even that weird cabbage smell none of them have been able to located the source of is oddly soothing to him.

Iwaizumi wonders what that says about him. That being in the gym at close to one in the morning feels more like home than his actual bed in his own apartment. Actually, he knows exactly what that says about him, but he’s not ready to breach that territory. Not right now. Not when the prospect of a good workout has the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He grimaces as he glances around the room. Working out in the early hours of the morning means you don’t often have to fight over equipment, but it does have its downsides; there’s rarely anyone around who he can trust to spot him while he’s on the bench press. He halfheartedly eyes a tallish guy in the corner, before he shakes his head and turns away. He’s tried to spot with someone he wasn’t fully convinced could handle his bench weight before, and it ended with a bruised collar and far too many packs of ice for his liking. Reluctantly, he decides he’ll just bench a little less than his usual weight and makes his way towards the empty bench.

Some people curl up on the sofa with a good book and a glass of wine to relax after a hard week at work. Others hit the club and drink and dance until they can’t remember anything but their name - and some don’t even remember that . Iwaizumi Hajime spends two extra hours in the gym, several nights a week, working his muscles to the brink of exhaustion. He knows it’s probably a little unorthodox, but it works for him and has been working for as long as he cares to remember, and he’s not all that inclined to take up a new hobby.

It takes him less than two minutes to forget about the tiresome day he’s had, filled with difficult clients and technical problems with some of the machines and, before he knows it, he feels all the pent up stress he’s slowly been building up over the last four days slowly seem to float away. He doesn’t worry about having enough money for rent, or if there’s food in his fridge, or if he should be worried that his shower has started oozing a strange green substance, or anything like that. All he can think about is pushing the weights above him higher and higher as he works to meet his self set target.

He’s halfway there when the doors to the floor are flung open and a group of guys he’s never seen before shuffle in, upsetting the quiet atmosphere that has blanketed itself around the gym. They’re laughing and talking way too loudly for just gone one in the morning, and Iwaizumi is tempted to snap at them to get them to shut the hell up. But then he remembers that this isn’t a library and there aren’t actually any rules against talking too loudly in the gym. It’s just, most people are polite enough to understand that the early hours of the morning aren’t an appropriate time for the kind of hooting and hollering currently coming from the newcomers.

He grunts a little as he slides the weights back into their slot, and sits upright on the bench, wiping the sweat away from his face with the bottom of his shirt as he scowls at the group in the corner. There are three of them, and he wonders how it’s even possible for just three people to make such a deafening racket. If he hadn’t seen them enter himself, he would’ve guessed there were no less than six of them, but nope, it’s just the three.

His scowl deepens a little as he continues to stare, realising that a large percentage of the noise is coming from just one of them, while the other two alternate between sharing exasperated glances and yelling back at the first guy. They’re huddled over by the treadmills, arguing about something he can’t quite catch - and he’s actually pretty surprised they can even hear each other in the first place, given the way they’re shouting over one another as if they’re a bunch of children and not fully grown adults.

Iwaizumi briefly considers the idea that they might be drunk. It wouldn’t be the first time drunk students sauntered into the 24 hour gym late at night and tried to embark on an ill advised workout session, but, after a few more seconds of eyeing (glaring at) them carefully, he dismisses the idea. They’re all pretty steady on their feet, and he can’t spot any other telltale signs of drunkenness.

They’re just noisy.

Really noisy.

In his periphery, he spots the tallish man from earlier eyeing the group with a look of annoyance etched onto his face. Iwaizumi wonders if maybe he should say something to the group. He is the only member of staff around at this hour, and although it’s not a library it is a public space, and their behaviour is clearly annoying the other customers.

(Not to mention him.)

The tallish man rolls his eyes at them after a particularly loud collective cackle and Iwaizumi winces as he grabs his belongings and heads for the door, slamming it pointedly behind him as he leaves.

The three newcomers don’t appear to notice.

Right. He decides he has to say something. Besides him and the rowdy group, there are only a few people left working out in the gym and he recognises them as regulars and knows this is the only chance they get to workout during the week. He hesitates just a little before pushing himself off the bench and making his way towards the treadmills.

To his annoyance, they’re all taller than him. Not by much, but the extra height they’ve got on him is a tiny bit unnerving. Not for the first time since he’s started working at the gym, he finds himself feeling a little glad that he’s a touch more well built than most men. He’s fairly certain this won’t end in a confrontation, but it’s a little reassuring to know that he’d probably give them a good run for their money if it did.

Probably.

Though, the one standing on the left does look like he could probably do some damage if he tried.

“-one hundreds bucks.”

“You don’t have one hundred bucks.”

“I do too.”

“If you did, you wouldn’t be asking me for money every other day.”

“Point. Twenty then.”

“Make it thirty.”

“Deal.”

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow as he watches the men engage in a weird three-way handshake, all of them grinning somewhat creepily at the other. He notices that two of them share a brief, withering look with each other, while the loudest one cackles again, and Iwaizumi wonders if these kinds of antics are something of a regular occurrence. Another regular storms out, slamming the door behind them, and Iwaizumi finds himself muttering a silent prayer that the three men never find their way into his gym again. They’re just not good for business.

He spots another one of their regulars scowling at the men, and he clears his throat to get their attention. Enough is enough.

To his surprise, it’s the loudest one that breaks free from their conversation and turns towards him first. He’s marginally the shortest one out of the three, with messy brown hair and a half confused, half vaguely amused look on his face as he looks him up at down, his lips curving upwards into an odd little grin. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, drawing more attention to the muscles that peek out from underneath his already pretty tight shirt and, Iwaizumi notes with the kind of interest you reserve for random people you pass on the underground, he’s actually quite attractive.

He clears his throat again as he inches a little closer, finding himself jolting slightly as the mans features soften a little to allow a small smile to light up his face.

He has a nice smile.

A really nice smile.

It crinkles his nose slightly and births two tiny dimples on either cheek as he shows off a set of perfect pearly whites, and Iwaizumi isn’t too proud to admit that it catches him completely off guard. His intention had been to approach the group and politely, but firmly , ask them to quieten the fuck down, but he figures some of his desired authority has probably been lost, because the first sound out of his mouth is a stammer.

Of all things, a stammer.

“Uh-”

The man blinks down at him, his smile turning more smug as he stares at Iwaizumi, as if he knows exactly what affect his smile has had on him.

“Is everything okay?”

Is everything okay? Iwaizumi groans internally, because that was supposed to be his line - albeit, said with a little more sarcasm. He was supposed to have the first word and scare them into shutting up. He clears his throat and tries again.

“Everything’s fine,” he says, inwardly cringing at the utter lack of authority in his tone. “Just, well, you guys are kind of loud.” He finishes his sentence by nodding his head pointedly towards the other side of the room, where the few remaining people left in the gum are still stood glaring at them. “If you could try and keep it down, that would be great.”

“Idiot,” one of the men sighs, glaring at the loudest one before he turns to face Iwaizumi, offering him up an apologetic smile. “Sorry, we normally don’t get caught up in…” He trails off and gestures to his friend, and Iwaizumi oddly understands exactly what he’s trying to say.

“Mattsun!” The loud one shoots his friend (Mattsun?) an obviously contrived sad look, as if he’s truly hurt by his words, “don’t bad mouth me to people we’ve just met.”

“He didn’t need to bad mouth you,” the final friend interjects, “he already saw how obnoxiously loud you are without our help.

“Makki.” The loud one sounds absolutely scandalised this time, as if he’d expected this kind of betrayal from Mattsun, but not from Makki. Never from Makki.

Iwaizumi watches, vaguely amused, as the loud one reaches forwards to swat his friend (Makki?) on the head, but said friend expertly dodges out of the way without even sparing him a glance. Once again, Iwaizumi gets the impression that this kind of thing happens a lot among the three men. He actually feels kind of sorry for the loud one, watching his friends so easily gang up on him and sell him out the first chance they get.

“Hey now, it’s not like it was just him making the noise.”

“Thank you!” The loud one sticks his tongue out at his two friends, before he leans forward and peers intently at Iwaizumi’s shirt, reading the tiny printed letters on the name tag pinned onto it. “Thank you Iwaizumi-san, for your support.”

He shoots Iwaizumi another dazzling grin, that leaves him momentarily frozen on the spot, before he turns back to his friends and wags his finger condescendingly at them. “Now, unless you want Iwaizumi-san to kick us out, you two need to learn to keep quiet.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t miss the look of disbelief, quickly followed by annoyance, that flits across both Makki and Mattsun’s faces, before they apparently decide that arguing with their friend will be too much effort. For some reason, Iwaizumi gets the impression that this is probably the right course of action.

“There,” the loud one says triumphantly, turning back to him with that same smile still tugging at his lips, “they won’t be causing you any more trouble, Iwaizumi-san.”

“Good to know,” Iwaizumi manages to get out, still trying not to get lost in his smile. He does find it a little odd that the loud one has somehow managed to shift all the blame onto his friends, when it was him making all the noise in the first place, but he doesn’t care too much to try and press it. He turns and offers them all a brief wave as he makes his way back to the bench press, “enjoy your work out.”

“You too Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi pauses mid step, before he he whirls around because he did not-

“We told you already, stop giving people you’ve just met nicknames.”

“But it just fits.”

Iwaizumi immediately erases any previous thoughts of sympathy he might have held for the loud man, and instead transfers it over to his two friends.

They’re clearly saints, the both of them.

.

.

.

Surprisingly, they stick to their word and Iwaizumi doesn’t hear even a peep from them for the next twenty minutes or so. They’re so quiet, Iwaizumi actually forgets they’re there, and quickly falls back into the blissful rhythm from before their arrival, and he hits his self set target with ease.

It’s nearing two in the morning when he decides that it’s probably time for him to start making a move to head home, even if he could manage another hour with relative ease.

He exhales heavily as he pulls his sweat ridden shirt over his head and chucks it to the floor before he begins some of his warm down stretches. His muscles give off that oddly pleasant ache as he lifts his arms into the air, stretching them as high as they go so he can work out all the knots and kinks he’s developed over his session.

He groans a little, arching his back slightly, stretching to try an-

He jerks upright as he hears a loud bang, followed by a yelp, followed by ridiculously loud and hysterical laughter and a smug ‘I won’.

Iwaizumi drops his arms and just stares at the scene unfolding in front of him. Makki and Mattsun are hanging off the barriers of their respective treadmills, bodies wracking with hysterical laughter as they stares at their friend.

(He can’t be sure from this distance, but he thinks Mattsun is laughing so hard, he’s actually begun to cry.)

The loud one is lying on the floor, groaning as tries to detangle himself from the wires currently wrapped around his ankles. Iwaizumi remembers the loud bang from earlier, sees that his treadmill is still running, and quickly puts two and two together.

He sighs as he jogs towards them, forgetting his shirt on the floor.

“That’s what happens when you don’t pay attention,” Mattsun sniggers.

“I was paying attention, I was just momen-”

“You alright?” Iwaizumi asks as he approaches, pretending like he doesn’t notice the way they’re all suddenly staring at him. Especially the loud one who is now completely silent, staring at him with bright, wide eyes and a redness to his face that Iwaizumi isn’t entirely sure is only from his workout. “That looks like it was a pretty nasty fall.” He eyes the obviously fresh scrapes along his forearms and knees, and winces. It’ll probably leave a bruise.

“Uh. I’m fine.” The man stands up hastily, almost tripping over himself again as he tugs the wires away. “See. Perfectly fine!”

Iwaizumi frowns. He’s acting...weird. Not that his first impression of the man and his two friends hadn’t been fairly negative in the first place, but his behaviour now just seems off. He’s desperately trying not to look at him, and both Makki and Mattsun are grinning like Cheshire Cats, and Iwaizumi wonders if he’s missed something.

He scratches the back of his neck and frowns at them all for a few seconds before he decides to leave it. “Right,” he shrugs, he’s barely known these people for an hour and they’re already giving him a headache, “you might want to put some ice on that.” He nods towards a particularly red mark on his forearm.

The man nods in response, oddly tightlipped as he stares at a spot on the floor, as if he’s purposely avoiding looking up at him.

Iwaizumi doesn’t know why, but it makes him feel a little awkward. All of that energy and noise from earlier seems to have disappeared completely and, for the life of him, Iwaizumi can’t figure out why. He hovers for a second or two, transferring his weight from one foot to the other as he tries to figure out if the man needs any first aid. Eventually, he decides that enough is enough. He’s made sure the man isn’t hurt too badly (though the treadmill does look like it's taken a pretty bad beating) and, as far as he’s concerned, that’s his job done as an employee.

“Well, I’m off,” he says with a nod towards the three men, “enjoy the rest of your workout.”

He offers them a quick wave before he jogs back to the bench press and grabs his shirt. “See you around,” he calls, before he ducks out of the room and makes his way to the staff showers.

As soon as the doors slam shut, he hears a stupidly loud shriek followed by “did you see how bu- ”, but he turns the corner before he can hear the rest of the sentence.

Though, he gets the feeling, that it’s probably for the best.

.

.

.

He spends more time in the shower than he usually does, taking advantage of the fact that - for once - he has the room all to himself.

By the time he eventually does leave and makes his way down to the exit, his hair still damp and with a towel hanging round his neck, it’s closer to three than two and he realises he’s going to regret staying out this late in the morning. Thankfully, he doesn’t have a client until the early afternoon, so at least he’ll be able to get a few hours of sleep in before heading back to the gym and doing it all again. Absentmindedly, he realises that this pattern he’s fallen into probably isn’t entirely healthy. His entire life seems to revolve around the gym these days, and he can’t even remember the last time he had a late night out that wasn’t spent in the gym.

He sighs as he turns a corner and enters the lobby, maybe he’ll call up one of his friends sometime in the week and see if they want to do something - anything, that’ll get him out of this monotonous routine he’s apparently got himself caught up in.

“Iwa-chan! ”

He frowns, slowing down a little as he approaches the front desk. To his surprise, and confusion, the loud man from earlier is leaning against it with a relieved smile on his face.

“I was wondering if I’d already missed you.”

“Uh,” Iwaizumi clears his throat, “hi?”

The man laughs, as if Iwaizumi’s said the funniest thing he’s heard all day, and props his elbow on the desk, dropping his chin into his open palm. “I’ve been waiting for like twenty minutes, you know?”

“For me?”

The man nods, still smiling up at him as if this is the most normal thing in the world, to wait for someone you barely know for twenty minutes after meeting them once.

(Not to mention the ridiculous nickname that doesn’t appear to be going anywhere anytime soon.)

“Did I forget something in the gym?” Iwaizumi asks, glancing around to see if anything that belongs to him is lying around. He can’t see anything, but he can’t think of another reason for the man to still be hanging around. It’s sad enough that he spends all his time at the gym, but at least he has the excuse of being an employee. Doesn’t the man in front of him have anywhere to be? Like a bed for example? And, for that matter, where the hell are his friends? Iwaizumi glances around the lobby as if he expects them to jump out from behind one of the potted plants at any moment.

“In a way,” the man says slowly, his eyes flashing with something Iwaizumi can’t quite pinpoint. “You forgot to ask my name.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything for a second or two, because really , what the hell is going on here? “Your name?”

“Mmm!” the man hums, shaking his head at Iwaizumi as if he’s somewhat dim for not knowing that already, “I know your name and you don’t know mine. You even know Makki and Mattsun. It’s all very unequal, isn’t it?”

Iwaizumi bites back a growl because it is nearly three in the morning and he’s just finished a fairly intense workout, so he really doesn’t have the energy (or brain power) in him to be dealing with whatever the hell is happening in front of him right now. “Alright, I’ll bite. What is it?”

Anything to get him out of there.

“Oikawa. Oikawa Tooru.”

Iwaizumi nods. “Good. Now we’re all caught up, I’m going to g-”

“Wait, wait, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sighs, waving a hand in front of his face to get him to shut up, “I have a question.”

At that moment, Iwaizumi decides he deserves a medal for his patience. He bites the inside of his lip, and wonders how much trouble he’d get into for a punching a customer. Albeit, a very annoying customer, who probably deserves to get punched...but, a customer all the same.

“What is it?”

If the blatant annoyance that seeps into his tone is apparent on his face, either Oikawa doesn’t notice or he pretends not to (Iwaizumi thinks it’s the latter), because he ploughs on with the same bright, oblivious, smile as before.

“What do you do?”

“What?”

“You know! Here,” he gestures around the lobby, “well, not here . Upstairs. In the gym. You work here right?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Iwaizumi’s frown deepens, he’s not entirely sure where this line of conversation is going. “I’m a personal trainer.”

“A personal trainer?” Oikawa’s eyes light up and, if possible, his grin widens into something even brighter than before, “really ?”

“Why would I lie about something like that?” He wants to tack on an ‘idiot’ at the end, but he’s not in the business of insulting customers. Even customers who deserve to get insulted for holding him up at damn near three in the morning, asking pointless and irritating questions.

“Alright then, I’ve decided.” Oikawa claps his hands together and grins a grin that Iwaizumi already knows is going to mean trouble. “I’d like to hire you.”

“Huh?”

“I’d like to hire you,” Oikawa repeats, a bit slower this time, as if that’s where the problem had been, and not in the absolute absurdity of the request in the first place.

Iwaizumi cocks a brow, crossing an arm over his chest as he stares at the man in front of him. “You don’t need a personal trainer.”

Almost as soon as the words fall from his mouth, Iwaizumi knows he’s made a mistake (possibly the biggest mistake of his life), and has fallen into a craftily laid trap. Not least of all because Oikawa’s lips have curved upwards into a cocky smirk and now he’s not-so-subtly flexing his muscles a little as he grins down at him.

“Ah, Iwa-chan,” he practically purrs, and not for the first time since meeting the man, Iwaizumi wonders if he’d really get into that much trouble for punching a customer. “I know this can be a lot to take in.” He winks and flexes his arm muscles again, as if Iwaizumi can’t already see just how well defined they are. “But it takes hard work to try and maintain something like this, you know?”

“No.”

Nope. Absolutely not.

He’s known Oikawa for just under an hour in total, and already he can sense that the man is more trouble than he’s worth. He can already feel the headache forming at just the thought of taking Oikawa on as a client.

“Iwa-chan,” he whines, leaning against the reception desk once again, “I just want some extra guidance, that’s all. I don’t know why you’re being so difficult. ”

Iwaizumi wants to tell him that it’s because in the fifty-odd minutes that he’s known him, Oikawa has not only christened him with a ridiculously childish nickname, put a treadmill out of commission for a least a day, annoyed customers into leaving, and flat out irked him mercilessly throughout the majority of his work out, but he quickly remembers that he is at work, and he really doesn’t need a complaint against his name.

“Sorry,” he forces what he hopes is a polite smile onto his face (though he’s very aware that it can probably easily be interpreted as a grimace) and shakes his head at Oikawa, “I’ve got no free spaces at the moment.”

It’s kind of humorous, the way Oikawa’s lips turns downwards slightly, and his gaze loses a little bit of the shine it previously held. Iwaizumi thinks he kind of looks like a puppy who’s just been told it can’t go for a walk.

“Really?”

“Yes really,” Iwaizumi scowls, “well...almost.”

Once again, he regrets the words almost as soon as they’re out. Why couldn’t he just let it be? Why couldn’t he just say no and then give him the business card of another trainer? Why cou-

“Almost?” Oikawa says hopefully, and Iwaizumi notes the shine is back in his eyes again.

“My last client is at midnight on Monday’s and Thursday’s,” he sighs reluctantly, mentally cursing himself for his weakness. “I usually spend a couple hours here afterwards, doing my own workout. But, I guess, I'm not completely opposed to having an extra client during those hours.” It's not like he doesn't need the money either, an extra client for those hours would actually do him a world of good, but does it have to be this client?

“Perfect!” Oikawa chirps, slamming his hand triumphantly on the desk, “see Iwa-chan? I knew we could work something out.”

He leans forwards and literally taps Iwaizumi’s cheeks, as if he’s a ninety-year-old grandmother and Iwaizumi is his five-year-old grandson he sees twice a year, before he pulls back and grabs his duffle bag from the floor. “See you on Monday, Iwa-chan.” He offers him one last smile before he wiggles his fingers at him and dashes for the door, yelling loudly for his friends (‘I swear to God, if you left without me...’) as he rushes towards the car park.

Iwaizumi stands frozen on the spot as he watches him disappear through the doors, still trying to work through what exactly had just happened there.

For some reason, he feels like he’s just survived a hurricane.

Barely.

 “Your form is awful,” Iwaizumi sighs, quickly sticking out a hand to stop Oikawa from reaching for the weights he can see him eyeing excitedly, “how have you not broken your back yet?”

He realises, pretty quickly, that while it is (painfully, painfully ) obvious that Oikawa is no stranger to the gym, that Oikawa is also one of those guys who has never actually had any real training on any of the equipment or been taught any real weight lifting techniques. Oikawa is one of those guys who just wings it and hopes for the best - often causing themselves damage without even noticing it.

“See,” Oikawa says smugly, wiggling his brows almost conspiratorially at him, “I told you I needed a personal trainer.”

Iwaizumi can’t say he’s wrong there. It’s actually pretty scary watching Oikawa attempt to work out, watching him pick up weights with absolutely no regard to his poor bones and muscles. He thinks that Oikawa must have a guardian angel or something, because he’s seen men get terrible injuries for doing a lot less.

“You hold it like this,” he mutters, standing behind Oikawa to place a hand on his shoulder and the other over his hand, “do you see how much easier that’ll feel? Instead of being all hunched over like a caveman.”

“Hm,” Oikawa hums lightly as Iwaizumi removes his hand from his shoulder and runs it down his back, straightening it a little, “I think I get it.”

“Good.” Iwaizumi takes a step backwards and nods to the weights, “let’s see then.”

“I won’t let you down Iwa-chan!” Oikawa gives him a wink and a mock salute that makes Iwaizumi wants to roll his eyes, before he reaches down and picks up the weights almost perfectly. Oikawa, as Iwaizumi discovers not long into their first session together, is a very quick learner. It’s actually kind of refreshing have to instruct a client just once, and not have to say the same thing over and over again.

“Good job,” Iwaizumi says once Oikawa finishes his set, “did you feel the difference?”

“Hm?” Oh,” Oikawa grins as if he’s enjoying an inside joke. “Yeah. Definitely. Feels like I’m actually doing something, instead of just going through the motions, you know?”

“Exactly.” Iwaizumi can’t help but mimic Oikawa’s grin as he gestures for him to take a seat on the mat, “I’m surprised nobody ever taught you that before. Which gym do you usually go to?”

There’s a slight pause as Oikawa seems to fumble over his answer. “You know Seijou? It’s downtown.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Iwaizumi frowns and glances over at Oikawa who is currently fiddling with his shoelace. “They’ve got some pretty good trainers over there, I thought?” He doesn’t know much about the trendy gym downtown, but he does know their trainers have been steadily stealing away some of his customers since they’d opened last year and he doesn’t see why none of them thought to take Oikawa under their wing. He’s every trainer's dream.

Oikawa laughs. “They’re alright. None of them are as good as Iwa-chan, though. They just don’t have that je ne sais quoi.”

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi mutters, rolling his eyes a little. This is their first official training session together, but already he’s become used to Oikawa’s strange way of complimenting him. He sometimes thinks he’s being borderline flirtatious, but he can’t quite decide if that’s just Oikawa’s personality shining through, and he really doesn’t want to get his hopes up.

It’s embarrassing enough getting turned down from anyone, he doesn’t think he can handle being turned down by a client; someone he has to see twice a week. “Come on,” he nods towards the mat, “give me a round of planks and we can call it a night.”

“So soon, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa mumbles, looking as if he wouldn’t have minded if their session went on for a few more hours. But, he obediently gets into the position and looks up at him hopefully, “like this?”

“No. Not like that,” Iwaizumi snaps, grumbling to himself as he gets down to Oikawa’s level, “you look like a baby learning to crawl. How is this ,” he gestures to Oikawa’s hunched up position, “supposed to strengthen anything?”

He can’t see his face from this position, but he can practically hear the pout on Oikawa’s lips as he says, “Iwa-chan, you’re supposed to motivate me, not put me down.”

“It’s very hard to motivate an idiot who thinks this is how to do a goddamn plank. Here.” He places one hand on Oikawa’s lower back and other other on his abdomen. He can feel the taut muscles underneath his hand stiffen ever so slightly as his fingers brush against the skin tight fabric, and he wonders how Oikawa ever managed to get a body like this with such an awful technique. “Relax,” he murmurs, fingers still brushing against his stomach muscles, “just let me guide you.”

Oikawa is oddly silent, save for a few sharp intakes of breath, as Iwaizumi busy’s himself with straightening his lower half until he’s finally in the right position.

“There,” Iwaizumi says triumphantly once he think he’s got it. “Now, tighten your abs. Yeah, like that,” he hums, feeling the muscles stiffen even more under his hand, “and try and stay like this for a full minute.”

“A whole minute?”

“What?” he leans forwards, removing his hands from Oikawa’s mid-section, and cocks an eyebrow up at him, “you don’t think you can do it?”

Oikawa scowls up at him, and Iwaizumi thinks it’s nice to see another expression on his face other than his sunshine smile. It’s getting harder to try and stop himself from becoming too flustered every time Oikawa unleashes it on him.

“What do I get if I do?”

“Huh?”

Oikawa huffs and drops from the position, landing on his side as he props his head up on his arms. “If I can hold it for a full minute, what do I get?”

“The satisfaction of being fit and healthy?”

“Boring.”

Iwaizumi bites back a laugh, because Oikawa is definitely his only client that would be so bold as to ask for something so brazenly, just for doing an exercise properly. It’s strange, this relationship he’s developed with Oikawa in such a short space of time. Usually, his first session with a client is full of stilted conversation and awkward silences as Iwaizumi attempts to get a grasp on their physical ability. With Oikawa, it’s different. He’s more than happy to talk and ask questions as Iwaizumi tries to figure out a good workout plan for him, and Iwaizumi finds that they quickly develop a rapport.

He likes Oikawa.

He’s annoying as hell and is way too cocky (though, Iwaizumi feels that’s not too difficult to understand why), but he’s a nice enough guy.

“Is that not enough for you?”

“Nope,” Oikawa hums, looking far too mischievous for his own good, “how about…” he pauses, as if he’s really contemplating his answer. “How about, you buy me a drink?”

“A drink?”

“Mhm. And I don’t mean a drink from the vending machine downstairs or something like that.”

Iwaizumi does laugh this time, because he knows what Oikawa is hinting towards but the very idea of watching his face fall when he hands him a bottle of mineral water from the vending machine is comedy gold, and he’s very, very, tempted.

“I’m not buying you a drink if you do an exercise properly.”

Oikawa frowns, and Iwaizumi is once again reminded of a chastised puppy.

“Why not? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do, incentivise me?”

“Having the body of your dreams isn’t incentive enough?”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa tuts as he shoots Iwaizumi a look that seems to suggest he thinks he is very simple, “I already have the body of my dreams. And maybe even your dreams.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but keeps his lips pressed firmly shut as he gently shoves Oikawa on the shoulder. He can sense the trap Oikawa has laid for him and he refuses to fall into it. Not again anyway. “Just hurry up and show me if you can do it or not.”

Oikawa makes a frustrated sound at Iwaizumi’s apparent refusal to indulge his strange tendencies, but he does it.

Easily.

Iwaizumi’s actually pretty sure he can hold it for another minute (maybe two) and he’s tempted to tell him to do it, but before he can even form his mouth around the words, Oikawa is on his feet, punching the air and grinning smugly down at him.

“Didn’t think I could do it, did you?”

“I had complete and utter faith in you,” Iwaizumi lies, trying to school his features so Oikawa can’t see just how impressed he actually is.

“Hm,” Oikawa hums, “and you’re sure that doesn’t deserve a treat?”

“Are you a dog?”

“Iwa-chan.”

“Only dogs expect treats whenever they do something right.”

“You’re not a very nice personal trainer, are you Iwa-chan?” Oikawa scowls, “it’s a miracle none of your other clients have left you yet, if this is how you treat them.”

“No. Just you.”

“Ah,” Oikawa’s eyes seem to light up at little, “so I’m special?”

“A special kind of nuisance,” Iwaizumi mutters, grinning a little as he watches Oikawa’s lips turn down into a barely noticeable pout.

“So what do I have to do to get a drink out of you?”

Iwaizumi frowns because he’s not entirely sure what is going on here. He can’t tell if Oikawa is genuinely being flirtatious, or if this is just part of his exuberant personality seeping through into everyday conversation. He thinks Oikawa is probably looking at him a little too intently for his question to be considered entirely innocent but, then again, he doesn’t really know Oikawa all that well for him to be able to say for sure.

And besides…

“I don’t date my clients.”

It’s a stupid - stupid - thing to say, because who even said anything about dating in the first place? But it falls from his lips, and he regrets it by the time he’s halfway through the sentence.

“Who said anything about dating, Iwa-chan ?” Oikawa laughs, though there’s a strained edge to it that Iwaizumi can’t quite place. “It’s just two friends, going for a drink.” 

“We have to be friends before that to be true.”

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa clutches dramatically at his heart and forces a look of pure horror onto his face (Iwaizumi has to admit, he is one hell of an actor - albeit a ridiculously dramatic one). “Iwa-chan, that hurts. Of course we’re friends.”

“You've known me for a grand total of three hours. Maybe a little less.”

“Didn't you know?” Oikawa leans forward and gives Iwaizumi his best impression of someone very wise. “Three hours is all it takes for you decide if you want to befriend someone.”

Iwaizumi is fairly certain he’s lying because who would even think to measure something like that (though he supposes weirder studies have been done before).

“And you've decided you want to be my friend?”

“Of course,” Oikawa’s lips curve upwards into a crafty grin, “how else am I supposed to get a discount on the, quite frankly, extortionate prices you char- Iwa-chan !” Oikawa yelps, barely dodging the bottle of water Iwaizumi lobs at his head, “what kind of business practice is this? Attacking your clients?!”

He grumbles about grievous bodily harm (the bottle doesn't even clip his ear) for the remaining ten minutes of their session and, more than once, threatens to leave Iwaizumi for a better “less violent ” trainer.

Though, when Iwaizumi raises a brow and tells him to make good on his threats, Oikawa immediately quietens down and instead starts pretending to be interested in the cheesy motivational posters on the wall.

“What were you doing here that night?”

“Eh?”

Iwaizumi leans against the barriers of the treadmill opposite the one Oikawa is currently jogging on. Being back by the treadmills again reminds Iwaizumi vividly of their first meeting all those weeks ago. They’ve been training together twice a week for the last three weeks but, somehow, this is the first time they’ve tackled the treadmills. Iwaizumi thinks it’s probably because Oikawa has an obvious preference for the weights and he’s been coddling him a bit, letting him play to his strengths.

“That first night we met, where you were being obnoxiously loud with your friends?” The friends he has since learned are actually called Matsukawa and Hanamaki and ‘Mattsun’ and ‘Makki’ are nicknames Oikawa has created for them, much like his own ‘Iwa-chan’.

“Oh,” Oikawa exhales a breath, “for a bet.”

“A bet?”

“Mmm. Mattsun said he could outlast me on a treadmill and Makki agreed with him. Can you believe it?”

“And so you decided to come to the gym at nearly one in the morning?”

Over the last few weeks he’s learnt that Oikawa has a lot of odd quirks about him, but this is strange, even for him.

“Well,” he hums, slowing down as the automated program on the treadmill enters its warm down mode, “my pride was at stake. What would you do?”

“Wait till the morning?” The ‘like a normal person’ goes unspoken.

“Ah, but then I wouldn’t have met you,” he smirks down at him like he somehow knew he’d meet Iwaizumi that night. “And I’d still be holding my weights wrong. Who knows, I might’ve broken my back by now.”

Iwaizumi snorts, because he’s right about that. Every now and then he’ll catch Oikawa holding the weights wrong or getting into the wrong position, and he’ll have to leap forwards and show him how to position his body again to get the best results but, for the most part, his improvement is astounding.

“How come you didn’t go to Seijou?”

He’s noticed that every time he brings up his former gym, Oikawa will go quiet or frown a little and this time is no different.

“Makki moved to a place near here,” he says with a shrug after a few seconds of silence, “we were going to go to Seijou, but nobody wanted to drive and then Makki mentioned this tiny old gym-”

“It is not tiny,” Iwaizumi scowls, he feels oddly protective over the gym he’s come to see as a second home, “it’s a perfectly decent size for the area.”

“OK,” Oikawa rolls his eyes, “Makki mentioned this old gym he’d seen, so we thought we’d give it a go.”

“And you lost.”

“Lost?”

“The bet? Remember, you fell?”

“Oh,” Oikawa’s cheeks redden a little and he purposely glances away, “that wasn’t my fault.”

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow as he pushes himself forwards to lean on Oikawa’s handlebars, “how so?”

“I was... distracted.”

“By what? The gym was practically empty.”

Oikawa turns to look at him with wide eyes and, for a moment, Iwaizumi thinks he’s going to say something but he ends up just shaking his head before turning his attention back to the screen on the treadmill.

“You’re really not very observant, are you Iwa-chan?” Oikawa mumbles, still staring at the screen, as if he’s determined not to meet his gaze.

“I’m very observant,” Iwaizumi scowls, “and I’m telling you, there was nothing to distract you. You just lost your bet, and don’t want to admit it.”

He expects Oikawa to argue and dismiss the idea that he’d lost the bet fair and square, so he’s surprised when Oikawa merely hums and picks up the pace, pressing buttons furiously to get the treadmill to speed up.

“Oi,” Iwaizumi snaps, reaching forwards to slap his hand away from the button, “you’ve done your run, you’re supposed to be slowing down.”

“I can do more,” Oikawa mutters, and Iwaizumi can hear the sudden dip in his tone. He sighs and leans forwards, slamming down on the emergency stop button on the machine. The treadmill grinds to an abrupt halt and Oikawa jolts forwards a little, as he turns to scowl down at Iwaizumi.

“What was that for? I said I could do more.”

“Oh?” Iwaizumi cocks a brow, “remind me again, who’s the personal trainer here?”

Oikawa’s lips twitch a little as if he’s trying desperately not to laugh, though Iwaizumi’s not entirely sure why. “You are,” he sighs eventually, as he hops down from the treadmill, “Iwa-chan is the wise and all-knowing personal trainer. I am nothing but a lowly student.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. He’s become used to Oikawa’s theatrics over the last few weeks, but he’s secretly glad that the brief bad mood he slipped into for a few minutes has disappeared. “And don’t you forget it.”

“Yes sir,” Oikawa laughs, giving Iwaizumi a mock salute, before he bends over and begins to touch his toes.

He does that sometimes; starts doing stretches or new exercises as if he's read Iwaizumi’s mind and knows exactly what he's going to tell him to do next.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Hm?”

“Stop looking at my butt.”

Iwaizumi resists the urge to chuck (another) bottle of water at Oikawa’s head and kicks him instead.

“I was not looking at your ass, you ass.”

(He was.

Just a little bit.)

He’s not entirely sure when seeing Oikawa becomes the highlight of his week, he just knows that,  somehow, it is. He finds himself looking forward to their twice weekly sessions in the almost empty gym, working out till the early hours of the morning with just each other for company.

It’s gotten so bad, that even he has to admit that is probably is a little weird just how often he finds himself staring at the clock on Monday and Thursday nights, willing it to hit midnight so Oikawa will burst through the doors with his sunshine smile and loud laughter, injecting the quiet gym with new life.

At first he tries to tell himself that it’s just the obvious excitement and willingness to learn that Oikawa brings to the table that has him longing (and he has to admit, it is longing) for their sessions together. He tries to convince himself that the only reason he looks forward to their time together so much is because it’s refreshing to finally have a client that doesn’t balk whenever he suggests it’s time they up their weights or try running for an extra five minutes on the treadmill. He keeps telling himself (like a twisted sort of mantra) that it’s Oikawa’s unbridled enthusiasm that has him frowning in worry when Oikawa is uncharacteristically late for one session.

He’s just a trainer, worried about his client.

That’s all.

But when Oikawa stumbles in nearly 20 minutes later, looking oddly sweaty and out of breath as he huffs out an apology, Iwaizumi knows the sense of relief he can feel pooling in his stomach goes beyond what he would usually feel for any of his other clients.

It’s not like he’s never been attracted to any of his clients before - because he has and he doesn’t think that’s really anything to be ashamed of. But Iwaizumi prides himself on his professionalism. Nobody wants a trainer that ogles them and makes them feel uncomfortable during a time when they’re probably feeling most exposed after all. And besides, for the few fleeting crushes he’s developed on his clients over the years, it’s been largely been a physical attraction, and physical attractions are easy to squash.

It’s when you start to get too close to a client that it becomes a problem.

Iwaizumi wishes what he feels for Oikawa could simply be labelled a physical attraction. But it can’t be, because when he finds himself purposely saying certain things because he knows it’ll trigger that smile he’s come to crave, he knows it’s more than that - much more than that.

There’s something about Oikawa - something he can’t quite put his finger on - that pulls him towards him. He’s like the sun, effortlessly tugging Iwaizumi closer and closer, just near enough to allow him to bask in his warmth, but still too far away for Iwaizumi to touch.

There’s a mutual attraction, Iwaizumi thinks one night.

Or rather, Iwaizumi briefly entertains the fantasy that there might be a mutual attraction between them, because he doesn’t really want to dwell too much over how utterly pathetic it is for him to be fawning over one of his clients like this if the feeling isn’t reciprocated.

So he tries his best to increase the distance between them until it’s at what he hopes is a professional level. He limits his lingering stares and pretends like he doesn’t feel the electricity that seems to course through his veins every time Oikawa so much as brushes against him.

It’s difficult.

Really difficult.

Mainly because Oikawa is a very hands-on kind of guy, and has no problem with draping himself over Iwaizumi as if it’s the most natural thing in the world during their breaks. He doesn’t see anything wrong with slapping Iwaizumi’s thigh, or prodding him in the abs, or making coy remarks when Iwaizumi does his stretches and it drives Iwaizumi insane . But he won’t let himself get caught up in it. Won’t allow himself that false hope that Oikawa might be just as interested in him as he is.

“Earth to Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says loudly, dramatically snapping his fingers in front of his face, “earth to Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi jolts out of his thoughts, blinking slightly as he tries to refocus his gaze on the man standing in front of him. “Stop it,” he grumbles, swiping Oikawa’s hand away as he pushes himself up onto his feet.

“Are you alright?” Oikawa asks, frowning a little. Iwaizumi feels himself stiffen slightly as he watches Oikawa’s gaze pan down his body, worried eyes scanning for any injury. “You spaced out there. You didn’t even yell at me when I did my planks wrong.”

“I’m fi- Why are you purposely doing them wrong?”

“I have to check you’re paying attention,” Oikawa says sagely, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “and clearly you weren’t. Really, Iwa-chan, I should get a discount for this. Or maybe even find a new trainer.”

“Like anyone else would have the patience to deal with you.”

And he means it. Oikawa is like nothing Iwaizumi has ever met before. He’s a tornado of energy and laughter and awful - awful - jokes wrapped in an Oikawa sized package and Iwaizumi knows there’s not many people around who could hold their own with him without becoming completely overwhelmed.

“Hey !” Oikawa scowls at him, his lips threatening to pucker up into that fake pout he’s so fond of putting on, “are you implying I’m difficult? Annoying?”

“Yes.”

And Iwaizumi wonders what that says about him that he’s hopelessly in love with him anyway.

It's getting easier, he thinks. It's getting easier to ignore the butterflies in his stomach whenever Oikawa throws the doors open and saunters into the gym. He barely notices how sweaty his palms get whenever he has to touch Oikawa to get him into the right position (and he prays Oikawa doesn't notice either). And he pretends like he doesn't feel his mood inexplicably lift whenever Oikawa smiles down at him.

It's getting easier.

Or, it would be getting easier if Oikawa was anyone but Oikawa.

“Iwa-chan,” he whines, leaning back onto his palms as he fixes Iwaizumi with a petulant pout, “just one drink.”

He's not entirely sure why, but Oikawa is strangely determined to get a drink out of him. Barely a session goes by these days without Oikawa requesting a drink in return for doing an exercise correctly. It's not like he's the first client to try and spend time with him after a session; plenty of clients politely invite him to events as a thank you for him helping them reach their desired weight and he's even been invited to a wedding once or twice before. But it feels different this time.

There's an urgency in his tone that isn't usually there and he's asked more than his usual five times - which is saying a lot.

“I'm asking for you, you know?”

Iwaizumi frowns up at him. They're the only ones in the gym at this hour and he's trying desperately to pretend that the close proximity in which they're sitting is perfectly normal and that he doesn't feel Oikawa’s thighs brushing against his own every time he so much as shifts an inch.

“Mhm. When was the last time you went out, Iwa-chan? Had some fun?”

His frown deepens because is it really that obvious that his life more or less completely revolves around the gym these days?

“You're here early and you leave late,” Oikawa continues, as if he's just read Iwaizumi’s mind. “It's not healthy. You need to get out there. Have some fun. Let loose.”

Iwaizumi thinks there's some underlying meaning in the last two words and he feels hope beginning to bubble in his chest.

“And since you don't have any friends-”

“I have friends, you prick.”

“Since you don't have any friends,” Oikawa continues, louder now as if he hasn't heard Iwaizumi’s interruption, “it's up to me to ensure you don't waste away in here.”

“You're so dramatic” he mumbles, dropping his gaze as he contemplates Oikawa’s proposition. It's not like he's wrong (although he does have friends), it has been awhile since he went out and, as Oikawa put it, let loose.

“Fine,” he sighs, “fine.”

“Really?” Oikawa’s eyes widen and his brows practically disappear into his hairline, as if he hasn't really expected Iwaizumi to agree.

Iwaizumi shrugs and does his best to ignore just how cute Oikawa looks when he's been stunned. “Sure. Why not. I'll even buy you that drink you've been hounding me about.”

That stunned, deer in the headlights, look is back in full force and Iwaizumi wishes he had his phone on him. It's not often he manages to knock Oikawa into a stunned silence.

It takes him a few moments, but eventually he seems to snap out of it and his lips stretch into a somewhat coy smile. “I have expensive tastes, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, wiggling his eyebrows a little, “are you sure you’re willing to cater to them?” There he goes again. Saying things in that weird tone Iwaizumi can’t tell if it's flirtatious or just part of his personality.

“I could try,” Iwaizumi says, enjoying the way Oikawa’s mouth briefly pops open in shock. He doesn't often respond to Oikawa’s weird borderline flirtatious questions and remarks, and he thinks he might start doing it more often if this is the type of reaction it elicits.

.

.

.

It doesn't take them long to get showered and dressed and while Iwaizumi is worried that sweats and an old shirt aren't exactly bar material, Oikawa doesn't seem too worried.

Incidentally, Oikawa looks good in his baggy grey sweats that hang low on his hips.

Really good.

He feels his face begin to flush slightly and he looks directly ahead, trying not to get lost in Oikawa's allure any more than he already his. 

Just one drink he tells himself. One drink, and then he'll go home and Oikawa will never have to bother him again about being social and maybe, just maybe, he'll back off enough for him to get over this infatuation. 

He allows Oikawa to pull him into a bar not far from the gym and is surprised when they flit past the bouncer with barely a cursory glance shot in their direction.

"Do you come here often?" Iwaizumi asks, wondering why they - dressed in sportswear - haven't been told to leave and put on something a little more appropriate. 

"Hm?" Oikawa glances behind him, his eyes scanning the dark room as if he's looking for someone, "what was that?"

"Do you come here oft-"

"Makki!" Oikawa trills, face lighting up as he waves towards the dimly lit bar. "Come on," he grabs Iwaizumi's hand and laces his fingers with his own as he drags him through the crowd. Iwaizumi decides that it's probably a good thing the whole building is so crappily lit because he can feel just how red his face must be. He allows Oikawa to tug him forwards, trying to pretend like he doesn't notice how nicely Oikawa's hand fits in his own.

"You remember Makki, don't you Iwa-chan?" Oikawa asks as they approach the bar area and slide onto two vacant stools.

"How could I forget," Iwaizumi grins wryly and offers Makki a polite wave as he makes his way towards them, "I didn't know you worked here."

"Yeah," Makki shrugs, "pays the bills. I'm surprised to see you here though," he says slowly, cocking his head to the side a little as he stares at Iwaizumi, "I thought I was going to have to listen to him moan about it fo-"

"Okay thank you Makki," Oikawa says loudly, very obviously trying to get his friend to shut up, "can you just do your job and get us some drinks?"

"Are you going to pay this time?"

"You don't pay?" Iwaizumi asks.

"I tip!"

"Terribly," Makki sniffs dramatically, though Iwaizumi can see him fiddling behind the bar for two glasses, "and we're supposed to be friends."

"Stop bad mouthing me in front of Iwa-chan," Oikawa mutters and, even in the low light, Iwaizumi can see his cheeks have reddened a little and he takes a little solace in the fact that maybe Oikawa's not as confident as he seems. 

"He already knows what an ass you are, right Iwaizumi-san?"

"Right," Iwaizumi nods, his lips curling upwards into a smirk as Oikawa loudly whines and turns his back on both him and Makki, mumbling something about finding new friends ('better friends, who appreciate me'). 

He watches as Makki makes their drinks (a simple beer for him and a weird concoction that looks like it probably contains more fruit than alcohol for Oikawa) and slides them across the bar, waving his hand flippantly when Iwaizumi reaches for his wallet. 

"I'll put it on Oikawa's tab," he winks, before shuffling down to the other end of the bar to serve some new customers who look like they're about five seconds away from causing a fuss. 

"Beer?" Oikawa asks, raising an eyebrow as he stares at Iwaizumi's glass with obvious disgust, "I didn't peg you as a beer guy, Iwa-chan." He picks up his own glass and takes a sip of the bright drink and smacks his lips together. "See this? This is actually nice." 

"You probably can't even taste any alcohol," Iwaizumi murmurs, taking a sip from his own drink. It's been a while since he's drunken any alcohol and he can't quite manage to keep the wince off his face as it travels down his throat. It doesn't taste bad per say, but it's not nice either. 

Oikawa hums and takes another sip from his drink.

It's nice, Iwaizumi thinks. It's nice sitting in the bar with Oikawa. It's annoyingly dark, but the music isn't all that loud and he doesn't have any difficulty hearing him. Their conversation flows just as easily as it does at the gym and, before he even realises what's happening, he finds himself scooting forwards on his stool, inching closer and closer towards Oikawa. 

By the time he actually realises that he's slowly been moving forwards throughout the duration of their conversation, there's barely an inch between their stools, and Oikawa has both his feet resting on the bars of his stool so their legs brush against each others with even the most subtle of movements.

Oikawa gets even more touchy-feely when he's had something to drink, Iwaizumi notices when, for the fourth time that night, he feels Oikawa's hand on his thigh. He's not even sure Oikawa realises he's doing it, like it's second nature for him to touch Iwaizumi in some way (whether it be on his thighs or his forearms) whenever they're having a conversation.

Iwaizumi doesn't complain because he likes it.

He's done pretending like he doesn't like that it feels when Oikawa's fingertips brush against the thin fabric of his sweatpants, or what it does to the butterflies in his stomach when Oikawa unleashes one of his smiles on him without warning. 

It makes him feel warm. 

By the time they eventually agree it's time to leave, he doesn't even feel phased when Oikawa leans into him as they saunter out of the bar with Makki watching them with an odd little grin on his face. Iwaizumi thinks he should probably take notice of that, but it feels so nice to have Oikawa by his side, that he lets it slide and allows Oikawa to lead him out the door. 

"Are you alright?" he murmurs when Oikawa pulls away and stretches a little, "you didn't drink too much, right?"

Oikawa rolls his eyes and scoffs, "I had two drinks Iwa-chan, and they were mostly just fruits anyway." 

He has a point there and, besides, he doesn't look drunk. He's steady on his feet and doesn't seem to have any trouble focusing his gaze. Iwaizumi scowls and kicks at the ground beneath him. He wanted a reason to stay by Oikawa's side for a little longer. There's a magic in the air and he's afraid that when they part ways, it'll disappear.

He clears his throat and forces himself to meet Oikawa's gaze. "Uh. Well. Thanks, for tonight. It was fun." 

"It was wasn't it? We should do it more often."

"Sure." He clears his throat again and tries to shoot him what he hopes is a confident smile, "I guess...I guess I'll see you on Monday?"

“Ah, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa hums, grinning a little as he inches a little closer, “isn’t it customary to kiss your date goodbye?”

He’s teasing him.

Iwaizumi knows he’s teasing him, and that he’s not supposed to take this seriously and that any feelings of mutual attraction between them is just wishful thinking on his parts, but he can’t help it.

“Is this a date?”

He hears the words spilling from his lips before he even realises what he’s going to say. His question clearly catches Oikawa off guard, because his grin drops from his face for a split second before it’s back again. But that split second is all Iwaizumi needs.

Fuck it, he thinks as he steps forward, closing the gap between them to press his lips against Oikawa’s. He’s not expecting much of a reaction, so when he hears, and feels, Oikawa’s gasp before he melts into the kiss, it’s like something has been unlocked within him. Iwaizumi sighs, opening his mouth enough for Oikawa to inch forwards, his lips slanting over his like the perfect puzzle piece.

He tastes like the fruity abomination he’d ordered at the bar and Iwaizumi suddenly regrets not ordering it for himself. It tastes wonderful, though he’s not entirely sure if that’s purely down to the drink, or if it’s the fact that he’s tasting it in Oikawa’s mouth.

Everything around him is fuzzy and distorted; the only thing he can focus on is Oikawa. Oikawa’s lips against his, Oikawa’s hands gripping his jacket as if that’s the only thing holding him up, Oikawa’s soft little moans and sighs every time he nips and licks at his lips.

They stumble backwards, still clutching at each other as if their lives depends on it, until Iwaizumi feels his back brush against the brick wall. He gasps as Oikawa presses even closer still, his hands straying from his jacket as they move upwards to his face. Oikawa hums against his lips before he reaches up further and tangles his fingers in Iwaizumi’s hair.

Iwaizumi doesn't want to pull away. He realises he's perfectly happy to stay like this forever - melded against Oikawa’s lips where the only thing he can hear is his breathy moans - but the need for air inevitably trumps his desire to stay pressed up against Oikawa and eventually the pull away just enough for Oikawa to rest his forehead against Iwaizumi’s.

He feels his breath fan across his face as Oikawa whines quietly, and Iwaizumi can't help but feel a little proud that he's managed to coax this kind of reaction out of Oikawa.

“Iwa-chan,” he murmurs, hooded eyes staring at him with such a fiery intensity, Iwaizumi feels something seem to coil in his lower stomach.

“Hm?” Iwaizumi scowls and almost kicks himself because the way his hum seems to break and jump an octave higher is so painfully obvious that even Oikawa chuckles. “It's not funny.”

“It's a little funny,” Oikawa laughs as he takes a step backwards, “I was about to lose hope you know?”

Iwaizumi frowns, both because of the question and because he finds himself missing the warmth he felt with Oikawa standing barely an inch from him. “Lose hope?”

“Mhm. I thought maybe I was reading you wrong and that you didn't like me like that. Which is silly because everyon- ow! ” He shoots Iwaizumi a glare while Iwaizumi pretends like he didn't just kick him in the shin. “I told myself that tonight I'd just go for it and see what happens.” He shrugs and, for the first time in a really long while (maybe the first time ever), Iwaizumi thinks he looks a little shy.

Suddenly, the look of urgency Iwaizumi couldn't decipher from earlier is a lot clearer.

He doesn't really know what to say. He's never really been good in these kinds of situations but he finds himself grateful that he wasn't the only one to have spent the last few weeks worrying over whether his feelings were reciprocated.

“Ah!” Oikawa’s face lights up, as if he's just learned the secrets of the universe, “does this mean I get a discount?”

“A discount?”

“Mm. Since I'm sleeping with my trainer.”

“We are not sleeping together you ass.” He lunges for Oikawa and belatedly realises that this was probably part of his plan, because he effortlessly pulls Iwaizumi into his arms and presses a soft kiss against his lips before pulling away.

“We’re not sleeping together yet, Iwa-chan. Yet. ” And then he winks and runs away, cackling maniacally down the street while Iwaizumi stands rooted on the spot, still dazed from their kiss.

Oikawa likes to steal kisses.

And he's not shy about it either.

He does it when Iwaizumi least expects it, when he's not prepared to have his world ripped up from underneath him thanks to one of Oikawa’s searing kisses.

He doesn't understand it, how the slightest peck sends a heat through his body that always leaves him wanting more. It doesn't help that Oikawa seems to know exactly what kind of effect he has on him, judging by his smug smile whenever they pull away.

“You're red,” Oikawa hums contentedly, leaning back onto his palms as he takes Iwaizumi in, “sort of mauve with pink undertones.”

Iwaizumi groans and covers his face with his hands because it's not fair that he's the only one who get affected like this. Why does Oikawa get to look so calm and collected at all times when the slightest touch turns him as red as a tomato?

"You're sweaty," Iwaizumi grumbles, still refusing to catch Oikawa's eyes, "and you stink."

"I do not."

Iwaizumi glances up just in time to catch Oikawa surreptitiously sniffing at his armpits.

"And besides, you like my post-workout odour." 

"Who would like that?" Iwaizumi asks, raising an eyebrow at Oikawa shuffles closer towards him, dropping his head onto his shoulder.

He likes moments like these.

Where it's just them alone in the gym and he doesn't feel weird of self-conscious about stretching out a hand and draping it over Oikawa's shoulder, pulling him in closer. 

He loves moments like these.

Where he can feel Oikawa grin against his bare skin, before he starts to pepper kisses along his collarbone and neck. Iwaizumi hears himself sigh as Oikawa nips at a particularly sensitive spot between the base of his neck and collarbone.  

"You're not complaining about my smell now," Oikawa says pointedly, lifting his head up to press a kiss against Iwaizumi's lips. 

He has a witty retort all planned out (something about getting used to bad smells over time) but, as Oikawa deepens the kiss, rolling forwards to lean over him slightly, Iwaizumi's vision starts to blur and the only thing he can really think about is how good it feels to have Oikawa pressing down on him, and how he wouldn't mind staying like this forever. 

He feels happy.

That's not to say that he hadn't been happy before but Iwaizumi can't deny the spring in his step or the almost permanent grin that tugs incessantly at his lips as he thinks about the coming evening.

He must look pretty strange twisting his head left and right as he peers around the lobby, because the blonde woman behind the desk leans forward in her seat and waves him over, a wary smile on her face.

"Can I help you?"

"Uh. I'm looking for my friend." He scratches the back of his neck nervously as he approaches the table. This is weird. Really weird. "He just came in. I don't know- You might know him? He used to come here. Oikawa Tooru?"

He sees recognition flash in her eyes as she cocks her head to the side. "Iwa-chan, right?"

The use of the nickname catches him so off guard, he doesn't even think to correct her as he nods his head and manages to force out a confused, “yeah.”

“Ah!” She nods to herself, “you look just like he says.”

He frowns, trying to figure out just when Oikawa would have even had the opportunity to talk about him to the receptionist, and just how much he had said for her to be able to recognise him so easily.

“You just missed him,” the receptionist (Yachi-san he notes after squinting at her name badge) says brightly, apparently not noticing his obvious confusion. “I think he was running late for his 3 o’clock with Kageyama.”

“His...his what ?”

“His 3 o’clock training session with Kag-”

He knows it’s rude of him to suddenly storm past her and he makes a mental note to apologise to the sweet girl when he eventually comes back down. But for now, the only thing he can think of is why the hell is Oikawa in a session with another personal trainer as he storms the stairs. He has no idea what’s going on, but he knows that he doesn’t like it, and he doesn’t like how nervous it’s making him feel. He and Oikawa had never actually agreed on a label for whatever it is they have, but Iwaizumi likes to believe that, what it is, it’s exclusive.

It is exclusive, right?

His breath catches nervously in his throat as he stands in front of the double doors that lead to the gym floor. He’s suddenly hit with a sense of fear. He might not like what he’s going to see in there. It might hurt.

He hesitates as he places his palm against the surface of the door and nervously pushes it open. The gym floor is a lot larger than his own one and at close to three in the afternoon, it's a lot more packed than his sessions with Oikawa in the early hours of the morning.

Despite how busy it is, he spots Oikawa almost immediately. He's in a corner, crouched down next to a kid who looks like he's close to throttling Oikawa.

(Iwaizumi doesn't blame him.)

He frowns as he gets closer because this is definitely not the scene he'd expected to walk into.

“Tobio-chan,” Oikawa hums lazily, “your form is awful. Truly the worst I’ve ever seen.”

The kid on the floor, halfway through a sit-up, grunts as if he wants to say something, but Oikawa either doesn't notice or doesn't care (probably the latter), because he continues talking as if there had been no interruption.

“Really, how do you expect to surpass me if you can't do a measly 500 sit-ups?”

"500? ” Iwaizumi squawks loudly, forgetting where he is for a moment because really? Five hundred sit-ups? He wouldn't wish that kind of thing on his worst enemy.

Everything seems to happen in slow-motion. The kid on the floor (Tobio-chan?) turns to look at him with thankful eyes and Iwaizumi gets the impression that requests like ‘500 sit-ups’ are, unfortunately, a regular occurrence. And then Oikawa turns to face him.

If he wasn't so utterly confused by the situation, Iwaizumi might've laughed at the look of pure horror that flashes across Oikawa's face once he finally notices him. His eyes seem to bulge and his mouth drops open as a strangle squeak falls from his lips. 

"I-Iw-Iwa-chan?" 

.

.

.

At least Oikawa at least has the decency to look embarrassed, Iwaizumi thinks as he spares the red faced man another glance.

“So,” he exhales and claps his hands together, deciding the awkward silence has gone on for longer than he could stand without going insane, “you’re a personal trainer?”

They're sitting in an empty room and have been for the last five minutes, both of them trying to figure out what to say to the other.

Oikawa glances up at him, his cheeks still aflame, and gives a small nod. Iwaizumi frowns and shuffles closer to him so he can bop him gently on the knee. He doesn’t like this Oikawa; this quiet and apprehensive Oikawa that looks like he’s afraid Iwaizumi will explode at any moment. As annoying as he is, Iwaizumi prefers the confident and, most importantly, smiling Oikawa he's come to know over the last few weeks.

"Stop looking like you're afraid I'm gonna eat you or something." 

"Aren't you?"

"Going to eat you?"

"No!" Oikawa groans and shakes his head. "Yell at me or something."

"Why would I yell?"

"Because I lied to you?"

Iwaizumi hums and then shrugs, "you didn't really lie." And he didn't. Now that he thinks about it, Oikawa never said what he did for a living, he just kind of skated around the question and managed to distract Iwaizumi long enough for him to forget he'd even asked it in the first place. "I'm more interested in why."

Oikawa groans again, but this time he looks up at him and meets his gaze. "I thought you were cute," he mumbles so quietly that it ends up coming out more like "Mfortyouwerecue' and Iwaizumi actually has to take a few seconds to process his words before he actually understands what they are.

"You-You thought I was cute?" For some reason, Iwaizumi feels like he's in high school again, standing behind the bike shed while one of his classmates nervously professes their love.

Oikawa nods glumly, exhaling a deep breath as if he's been waiting a while to get this off his chest - in hindsight, Iwaizumi realises he probably has. "That night, when I first came to the gym, with Makki and Mattsun, I thought you looked cute and I was just going to ask for your number but then Mattsun said that was probably a little forward so I thought I'd come back again but then you," he narrows his eyes slightly at Iwaizumi, as if this is really all his fault in some roundabout way, "but then you told me you were a personal trainer and I kind of just..." he trails off and shrugs helplessly. "And it all spiralled out of control from there. It wasn't meant to get this far, I just thought you were cute and I wanted to flirt and then I started to fall for you properly and God, do you know how hard it is to pretend like you can't even do a plank?" 

It takes all of Iwaizumi's self-control not to burst into laughter because this is, without a doubt, the strangest thing that has ever happened to him. Though suddenly all of Oikawa's strange quirks, like knowing which exercises he'd ask him to do next or why he would always look oddly distracted when Iwaizumi mentioned Seijou, make a lot more sense.

"And I was going to tell you, I swear," Oikawa continues, "I just...I didn't know how."

"Yeah," Iwaizumi hums, trying to keep some of the humour out of his tone, "well you did dig yourself a pretty big hole." He hesitates for a second before he inches his hand towards Oikawa and entwines their fingers together. He feels Oikawa stiffen slightly beside him before he relaxes into his touch and gently squeezes his hand. 

"Are you mad?"

"No. More...shocked," Iwaizumi finally settles on the word, lolling his head to the side to glance at Oikawa. He looks less nervous now, less afraid that Iwaizumi's going to suddenly up and leave. "This is the first time someone's done that much to get to know me. I must be pretty good-looking, huh?"

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa snorts, rolling his eyes a little, "the cockiness doesn't work on you. That's my thing."

"Ah, so you know you're insufferably cocky then?"

"Not insufferably," Oikawa sniffs pointedly, bopping Iwaizumi with his knee, "otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here, would you?"

"I guess not."

"Iwa-chan?"

"Hm?"

"Now that you know the truth..."

"Yeah..." Iwaizumi says slowly, already sensing that he isn't going to like where this line of thought leads. "What?"

"Well..." Oikawa shifts a little so he's facing him properly and flutters his eyelashes in what he probably thinks is a cute way, "can I get a refund?"

"What?"

"I wasn't joking when I said you were expensive. I don't even charge that much and I'm way better than yo-" Oikawa shrieks as Iwaizumi shoves him backwards, wrapping his arms around him as he falls, so Iwaizumi ends up hovering over him, boxing him in with his arms.

"You're an ass," Iwaizumi mumbles, though he thinks a little of the intended annoyance is lost due to the small smile tugging at his lips, "my boyfriend is an ass."

Oikawa gasps underneath him and Iwaizumi doesn't miss the red flush his cheeks get when he hears the word boyfriend. It's the first time he's said it out loud and it should make him feel embarrassed. But it doesn't. It feels right, and Iwaizumi isn't sure why they've wasted all this time not labelling what they have anyway.

Oikawa opens his mouth to reply, but Iwaizumi doesn't want to give him the chance to ruin the moment. It's not often he gets the see Oikawa flushed and speechless and he plans to take full advantage of it. 

He leans forwards and hovers just above Oikawa's lips. "No refunds."

"Iwa-ch-"

Iwaizumi closes the small gap between them and presses his lips against Oikawa's, enjoying the small squeak of surprise that falls from them. It takes less than a second, but he feels Oikawa relax underneath him, his hands moving up from their position on the floor, to rest against Iwaizumi's hips.

Oikawa whines quietly when Iwaizumi pulls away just far enough so he can still feel Oikawa's breath fanning across his face.

"Fine," Oikawa hums, and they both pretend like they can't hear the way his voice breaks ever so slightly, "no refunds if-"

"If?" Iwaizumi raises a brow.

"If you promise to keep doing that."

Iwaizumi wants to tell him that even if he did, for some insane reason, decide that he didn't want to kiss Oikawa any more, he still wouldn't give him a refund. But he doesn't want to ruin the moment, so he simply nods and doesn't resist when Oikawa reaches up and cards his fingers through his hair, pulling him back down for another kiss.