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The first thing to greet Ushijima on one fine Sunday morning was a screaming alien head playing jack-in-a-box with his kitchen cabinet.
Now, some people may have jumped upon such an occasion. After all, the average person did not have to deal with gruesomely wailing alien heads before noon on a Sunday. Or ever. But Ushijima was not an average person – in fact, he took pride in being above-average in many things, including his tendency to gain pesky demon stalkers who hungered after his screams.
The alien head bobbed up and down, giving up its wailing in exchange for a fit of demonic laughter. It was actually quite cute, so Ushijima gave it a tap with his finger.
“Hello, Oikawa,” he said as he turned towards the cabinet where he kept his cups, since the one with the sugar in it was currently otherwise occupied. “Would you care for some coffee?”
“Well, I obviously deserve it, after this – so yes. With lots of sugar, please.”
The alien head disappeared with a pop, making room for a young man with soft, wavy hair, big brown eyes, and a self-satisfied smirk. He just barely fit into the cabinet, but that didn't prevent him from looking as elegant and otherworldly as someone wearing a full-body alien print pajama possibly could.
Looking at him, Ushijima was once again reminded that being haunted by a demon was really not the worst thing that could happen.
“You're sitting on it,” he said, taking Oikawa's favorite cup out of the cabinet and filling it with coffee. He added milk until the coffee was the same color as Oikawa's hair – he had woken up to the demon's presence in his house so many times now that he knew exactly how Oikawa liked his coffee.
“Don't think I didn't see you flinch there, Ushiwaka-chan.”
Oikawa let himself plop down onto his usual chair, reaching for the newspaper, and only looked up when Ushijima set the cup of coffee down before him. “It won't be long until I crack you.”
Ushijima certainly didn't hope so. He had gotten so used to Oikawa's presence; he would feel pretty lonely without the demon showing up from time to time, trying to scare him. The last demon who had been sent to collect Ushijima's scream only rarely showed up anymore, too busy harassing other people to visit his old victim.
“I did flinch, I suppose...” Ushijima decided to indulge him – indulging Oikawa always paid off, because he was a very proud demon who thrived off compliments and recognition. Not that Ushijima just said it to please him – Oikawa did his job extremely well. It wasn't his fault that Ushijima couldn't be scared.
As he had predicted, Oikawa's lips curved into a content smile to sip his coffee with.
“So,” said Ushijima, because he was long past wondering if it was normal to make small talk with a demon over breakfast. “How is your boss treating you these days?”
The smile on Oikawa's lips promptly vanished.
“What do you think?” he groaned. “It's been three years and I still haven't brought him your scream.”
Come to think of it, that may not be the best subject to talk about if he wanted to see Oikawa smile. Then again, Ushijima did feel slightly bad about hindering Oikawa's career like that.
“I'm sorry,” he said, taking a long sip from his coffee. “Please tell your boss that it's not your fault. I could speak to him, if you want me to.”
“You would speak to the devil for me?” Oikawa asked, raising an eyebrow. There was an amused twinkle in his eyes, so Ushijima sensed that it was only a rhetorical question and not one Oikawa would actually make use of.
“The way he treats his employees isn't good,” Ushijima explained, hoping that Oikawa would listen for once. “There are countless studies that show how happy employees are actually more productive than-”
“He's the devil!” Oikawa interrupted him, waving his cup about. “He's not supposed to be a good boss!”
Well, that sure sounded right, but it didn't make any logical sense. In the end, the devil was still only one guy, and his demons were countless.
“I have some history books I could lend you,” Ushijima continued, but Oikawa was already chuckling. He really was a frustrating guy sometimes. Ushijima tried to make his voice sound even more serious. “This same thing has happened countless times throughout human history – but if enough of you come together to overthrow him, maybe establish some trade unions, build a democra-”
“Please stop talking,” Oikawa said, interrupting him again. He was throwing Ushijima a coy look over the edge of his coffee cup. “Or I'm gonna have to kiss you.”
Ushijima sincerely hoped that Oikawa couldn't see his cheeks light up from that sudden declaration, but – this being Oikawa - he hoped in vain. The demon's smile widened into a grin.
“Cute,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice – that wasn't new, Oikawa almost always had a lilt to his voice, but it still made Ushijima want to be swallowed by the ground. Hopefully, there weren't any more infuriatingly pretty demons there to flutter their lashes at him. Then he remembered that underground was where hell was located – the very place Oikawa had come from.
Oikawa took a sip from his coffee, apparently enjoying it greatly. “And really interesting, actually...”
Ushijima got up from the table, refilling his cup for an excuse to turn his face away, but Oikawa quickly sprang to his feet and hopped onto the kitchen counter.
"I didn't know you could blush," he hummed, getting into Ushijima's space.
"I am but a human," said Ushijima, shrugging. Oikawa already knew that he had a nice face; there was no need to point that out.
"Indeed. I was starting to have my doubts about that."
Ushijima was saved from further embarrassment by a thunderstorm randomly appearing inside his house.
Oikawa didn't notice the thick clouds floating in through the kitchen door, since he was too busy smirking at Ushijima. His attention was only caught when a lightning bolt suddenly set the table aflame, followed by a roaring thundering sound and a scream.
The scream came from Oikawa himself – he had jumped right into Ushijima's arms, clinging on to him for dear life. Ushijima sacrificed his favorite cup to catch him – it shattered on the floor, where fog started to rise.
"What the fuck is going on?" Oikawa screamed, climbing over Ushijima's shoulders to hide behind his back. In any other situation, Ushijima might have appreciated the closeness, but right now he was too busy sighing over the loss of his kitchen table.
"Was that really necessary?" he asked into the room.
Waves of sinister laughter were his only answer for a while, then the fog and lightning suddenly disappeared, and where Oikawa had sat on the kitchen counter before now sat a different demon – one with bright red hair and a mischievous smirk on his face.
"Hey ho!" the demon said, dangling his feet back and forth. "Long time no see, huh?"
"Hello, Tendou." Ushijima's voice was slightly strained because Oikawa was still clinging to him from behind, accidentally cutting his air supply.
"Oh!" Tendou only just noticed Oikawa. "I didn't know you had company."
"This is Oikawa. – Oikawa, meet Tendou," Ushijima introduced his new demon stalker to his old demon stalker, still very short of breath. At least Oikawa finally realized that there was no immediate danger, and he loosened his grip, but didn't move from Ushijima's back.
"What the fuck?" Oikawa hissed, shooting Tendou a poisonous look. “Who the fuck are you?”
Sure – he was a demon and in no way obligated to the human custom of manners, but Ushijima was still embarrassed about this cold reception. Tendou hadn’t visited in a long time, so Ushijima wanted to show that he had been missed. He had a feeling that Oikawa hissing at him from his back kind of implied the opposite.
“Please be nice, Oikawa. He’s my friend.”
“That’s right!” said Tendou, hopping down from the kitchen counter to walk up to Oikawa and squint at him from a nose's length away. But since Oikawa was still riding on Ushijima's back, it just amounted to three faces hovering way too close to each other.
Ushijima cleared his throat uncomfortably. “So, Oikawa – this is the demon who harassed me throughout my childhood.”
“He... what?”
Oikawa strengthened his grip again, almost possessively.
“Are you telling me that you have been haunted before?”
“I told you that I was immune,” Ushijima said. He had never actually gotten far enough to explain why, because Oikawa had seen it as a challenge every time and interrupted the conversation with an attempted jump-scare. But since Ushijima had grown up with a literal monster in his closet, there wasn't all that much that could shake him.
“I harvested screams from him for about five years, until my scares stopped working, so boss-guy allowed me to move on,” Tendou explained, skipping over to the heap of ashes which was left from the kitchen table. “Looks like he has rediscovered his appetite for Wakatoshi's screams. Or he just really hates you.” Tendou sent a provocative grin in Oikawa's direction as he crouched down to draw something into the ashes.
Oikawa finally climbed down from Ushijima's back to give a huff – it looked like he couldn't decide who exactly he wanted to aim the huff at – Ushijima for never telling him about his demon friend, or said demon friend for drawing a mocking caricature of Oikawa into the remains of the table.
“I guess he just has enough faith in me to send me after someone like Ushiwaka, instead of a toddler,” he finally spat at Tendou. “Seriously – harassing a baby? Aren't you ashamed of yourself?”
“Sorry, my moral compass isn't very highly developed. Being a demon and all,” Tendou said, creating a cloud of dust when he blew Oikawa's caricature away.
“You broke him!” Oikawa accused. “I mean – look at him! He's like a robot!”
Ushijima wasn't sure whether or not to be glad that Oikawa had already forgotten about the blushing incident. In fact, there was quite the pronounced blush spreading on Oikawa's own face, once he turned around to tap Ushijima's chest with his finger.
“I will fix you, just you wait!” Oikawa promised.
“Uhm... okay?” Ushijima said. He hadn't been aware of the fact that he needed fixing.
He also didn't understand how he should be fixed with Oikawa simply disappearing. But one second later, he was looking at a small sulfur cloud, and Oikawa was gone.
“Well, you're in for something,” Tendou cackled – he had already wandered over to the fridge, pouring himself a glass of milk. “Can't believe boss-man sent Oikawa after you – he's pretty famous down there, you know?”
“He is?”
“I honestly don't know how you managed to survive him,” Tendou said, shrugging, as if Ushijima's death wouldn't hinder their friendship in any way. Maybe it wouldn't. Ushijima had never asked what exactly happened to humans after they died. “Oikawa is one of the most powerful demons we have,” Tendou said, sipping on his milk. “If he wanted to, he could turn you to stone with a single look.”
“I can't scream when I'm made of stone,” Ushijima said. “So it's only logical he didn't petrify me.”
Tendou made a funny grimace at his words – funny grimaces were kind of Tendou's trademark though, so Ushijima didn't question it.
“What does he do, then?” Tendou asked. “The psychological stuff? Where he shows you how your family members die, or where he makes you see little children run in front of cars, or where he makes everyone forget who you are?”
“He...”
There was a sudden cold shiver seizing him, but he doubted that it was Tendou's skill as a scarer – he already knew all the tricks in Tendou's book, and this wasn't one of them.
“He can do that?” Ushijima asked.
Tendou just blinked at him, not understanding. “He didn't?”
“No?” said Ushijima. “It was only jump-scares. Mostly involving aliens of some sort.”
Tendou continued staring at him, this time without blinking at all. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the glass of milk fell from his hands, and he was clutching at his own stomach, wheezing with laughter.
“You're taking the piss!” Tendou gasped, little flames escaping from his mouth with the laughter. “Oikawa Tooru did not try to scare you with some stupid-ass aliens!”
“Maybe it's a form of long-time psychological-” Ushijima began, the gears in his head slowly turning, but Tendou spat another flame and accidentally set fire to the cabinet Oikawa had sat in earlier.
“This is amazing!” Tendou gasped, quickly turning on the water tap and directing the stream towards the burning cabinet. “He... he must like you, Wakatoshi. Oikawa Tooru must really, really like you.”
Ushijima could feel his face flush again, and he was glad that Tendou was too busy playing fireman to notice it. Surely, Oikawa could not like him. That was ridiculous. Oikawa was a demon, an incredibly pretty one at that, and he was apparently famous in hell.
“I rather got the impression that he hated me in the beginning,” he remembered.
Actually, Ushijima had met Oikawa on a cold winter morning, when he’d been out jogging, and a UFO suddenly landed on an empty field beside him.
Oikawa had stepped out, wearing an antenna on the top of his head, and the same alien print pajamas he had worn almost every time they had met. He'd greeted Ushijima with a lazy "Boo!", apparently expecting him to run away screaming. Instead, Ushijima had stopped in his track, taken a good look at him, and asked if he needed any help getting home.
"Oh!" Oikawa had said. "I'm sorry. I obviously meant-"
- at this point, his head had transformed into something reptilian, with a ridiculous amount of teeth, and he shot towards Ushijima, giving a horrifying screech.
Ushijima had taken a step back, wary about getting eaten, but not scared enough to let go of a scream.
"Not bad," he had said, because it was true - Tendou had never mastered shapeshifting, so this impressed him quite a bit. But it wasn't enough to shock him. "So you're a demon?"
He didn't remember the full conversation they'd had that morning, because after he failed to shock Ushijima, Oikawa had turned back to his normal form - without the excess of teeth or any antennas sprouting from his head- to face him with an indignant scowl, and Ushijima had fallen in love.
Maybe not in love love, but in how can a face like this belong in hell? love, which was, admittedly, more shallow than he knew himself to be, but the feeling had never really left him. Besides, ever since that first kind of love, many other kinds of love had followed. Oikawa had kept him company during many otherwise lonely mornings. He always fell out of the sky in his alien form when Ushijima was in the presence of people who annoyed him, scaring them away. He scrunched his nose in a cute way whenever he thought Ushijima said something insensible, he talked to him about his boss, and work, and about hell. Oikawa talked a lot, and Ushijima loved to listen - his voice sounded like he was always singing. He laughed at stupid things, and he liked to be flattered, and he was rarely honest, but it all added to a kind of complexity that Ushijima could only admire.
Oikawa, from the very first moment on, was a puzzle Ushijima could never solve. But Ushijima was fascinated by him, by every piece he uncovered, and if he was perfectly honest - he didn't know if he wanted to solve the puzzle at all. For the first time in his life, the result wasn't his driving force. With Oikawa, it was the challenge that drew him.
"You think you're oh-so powerful," he remembered Oikawa saying. "What, an alien isn't scary enough for you?"
“I don't believe in aliens, so they aren't very scary to me,” Ushijima had told him. Maybe the wording had been off – Ushijima would never dare to predict whether or not there was life in outer space – he just didn't think that it would be in a form the human mind could comprehend. And in Ushijima's opinion, little green reptiles with antennas on their heads just weren't very impressive.
Oikawa's demonic glare had been a lot more frightening than his antenna-clad introduction.
“Just you wait,” he had said. “Just you wait.”
“Oh!” - Ushijima felt like he had accidentally uncovered another piece of the puzzle. He turned to Tendou, who was done extinguishing his cabinet, and burrowed through his garbage bin instead. “I think it's simply a challenge to him.”
“A challenge?” Tendou smacked – he had found a bunch of potato peelings in the garbage and stuffed them into his mouth like they were a delicacy. “What do you mean?”
“I wasn't impressed by his first scare, so he vowed to try the same method again and again, until it works.”
Tendou gave a pensive hum, but then shook his head. “No one would endure boss-guy's anger for a simple challenge,” he said. “I'm serious. Oikawa is one of the best – there's no way he could have failed to scare you, except if he was refusing to do the really awful stuff to you. And boss-guy probably knows it.”
“You don't know him,” Ushijima said. “He's proud.”
He was certain of this. If the alien scare was the path Oikawa had chosen, he would stick to it until he succeeded. That was a puzzle piece Ushijima had uncovered a long time ago – one he had to accept in order to get along with Oikawa. Not that it had been too hard to accept. If Oikawa stuck to the alien scare, he would never succeed; Ushijima knew that much about himself. In turn, Oikawa would never stop trying. He would never move on.
Ushijima had no problems sharing his house with the demon until the rest of time.
At least Oikawa wasn't prone to setting fire to all of Ushijima's earthly possessions.
“You owe me a new kitchen,” he told Tendou, who was just staring at the burning garbage bin. Ushijima hadn't even seen how it had happened this time. Tendou probably liked his potato peels roasted.
“Whatever,” said Tendou. “I'm a demon. I'm supposed to be annoying.”
“I'll send you the bill.”
“To hell?” asked Tendou, one eyebrow raised.
“I suppose. Do you have an address down there?”
“Oh man,” Tendou cackled, coughing up another fireball, which thankfully just landed in the sink. “You are priceless.”
They were silent for a moment, both distracted by the faint sizzling sound coming from the sink, accompanied by a thin plume of smoke – then the water pipe under the sink suddenly exploded.
Tendou sighed when Ushijima threw him a meaningful glare.
“Just send it to 666 Brimstone Street.”
***
Later, when Tendou had gone back to harass whatever poor creature he was assigned to nowadays, and Ushijima returned from an early evening run, he opened the door to an eerie, unnatural darkness inside the house.
Ushijima couldn't stop thinking about what Tendou had said. About what Oikawa was actually capable of. There was a weird tingle under his skin – he almost felt jumpy. If Oikawa had landed next to him in a UFO today, Ushijima might have actually startled. Maybe even screamed, depending on the amount of ambition Oikawa would have displayed with his little ploy.
But his run had been quiet and lonesome, Oikawa still busy coming up with a way to 'fix' Ushijima and his apparent roboticness.
Ushijima just wanted for nothing to change.
And yet. This was new.
“Oikawa?” he called into the house, but he got no answer, except for the whistle of a breeze, just a puff of wind, which should have been sound and feeling, but felt weirdly visible. Ushijima closed his eyes for a moment. He felt strangely sick.
This was all new. All different. He just wanted everything to stay the same.
“Oikawa!” he called again. “Are you there?”
The whistle grew louder, stronger, more deliberate with every step he took, leading him through the darkness. Ushijima didn't quite know why he followed it. He was... He thought he might be...
Afraid.
“Oikawa...”
His voice was smaller now, hoping it wasn't actually Oikawa. This power right here should not come from the doe-eyed, fluffy-haired, alien-pajamas-wearing creature who sat with him every morning to drink a cup of sickly sweet coffee and make small talk with him over the morning paper.
The whistle slowly started to sound like a melody. Like instruments. Like music. It was like a physical thing, pulling him in. Ushijima's heart pounded twice as fast as the beat of the music. There was a beat now. Ushijima hadn't noticed when it had started.
“Oikawa?” he tried again, but he could barely hear himself.
He wondered if he was still in his house, or if he'd been led into hell. Into nothingness.
But it wasn't nothingness. It wasn't hell. It must have still been his house, because he suddenly stood in front of a door. All he could see were its outlines – soft light was escaping from behind it, clearly painting the picture of Ushijima's bedroom door into the total dark.
When he opened it, he noticed that the music had been muffled. Only now did he hear it clearly. It sounded languid and haunting and sensual.
Maybe it just sounded like that because it was accompanied by the sight of Oikawa shamelessly lolling about in the middle of Ushijima's bed. He wasn't wearing his alien pajamas this time. He was hardly wearing anything.
“Oh!” said Ushijima.
Oikawa turned onto his stomach to smile up at him, long, slender limbs tangling together in the heavy air.
Ushijima had never known that air could feel heavy, but he was having trouble breathing it in, and it seemed to weigh him down somehow.
The fear, he noticed, was still there.
“This is a new approach, I see.”
“I figured...” Oikawa hummed, blinking his long lashes. “That there were many ways to make someone scream.”
Ushijima slowly closed the door behind himself – an action that wasn't strictly needed, seeing as no one else lived in this house. But he needed to stall, needed some time to breathe, to think. Thinking, he found, was even harder than breathing right now.
“Oikawa...” he began, falling silent as soon as Oikawa sat up.
For the first time, the demon actually looked like a demon.
Not that there were any horns, or a tail, or little black wings sprouting from his back. But even with an antenna on his head – even as a reptile with far too many teeth – Oikawa had looked more from this world than he did right now.
“You look surprised,” Oikawa murmured – his voice was no longer singing – it was deep and liquid and wrong.
Ushijima just wanted for nothing to change.
And yet.
He couldn't tear his eyes away when Oikawa got up from the bed. His skin glistened in the dim light, cloaked in a thin sheen of oil. Even though Oikawa was still shorter than him, his legs looked never-ending, like it would just take him one step and he'd be standing right in front of Ushijima, ready to ram his teeth into Ushijima's neck.
Why did Ushijima close the door? Now his back was pressing against it, the only way out blocked by his own insecurity.
All the puzzle pieces Ushijima had uncovered fell apart. He could see now that they had never fit from the beginning – he had just pushed and imagined, and now he could see the cracks between them, now he could see the monstrosity of a picture they formed. Everything was wrong.
“Oikawa,” Ushijima said again. It sounded like he was begging. He probably was. “Please...”
The demon still came closer. He took more than just one step. His hips swayed from side to side, like they were trying to hypnotize Ushijima. There was something unnaturally elegant about the demon, something cat-like, something dangerous.
“You're sweating,” said the demon.
“I just came back from a run,” said Ushijima.
The demon's hands settled on his waist, sneaking past the hem of Ushijima's wet shirt, thumbs trailing along the pelvic muscle, leading down and close. Ushijima's breath stuttered, his blood rushed, and everything was still so heavy.
“Oikawa,” Ushijima said again. He wasn't talking to the demon. He was calling for someone else.
“Shhhhh...”
The demon's face came closer. It was hard to resist his gravity, but Ushijima managed to pull his head back, until it, too, was pressed against the door. The demon had to stand on his toes to reach him, but he still came closer, ever closer, until it was too late.
Those were Oikawa's lips, connected to Oikawa's face, and Oikawa's fluffy hair, and Oikawa's slender body, but everything was slightly off, so Ushijima couldn't – he just couldn't want to kiss that creature. He pressed his eyes closed, hoping that, if he couldn't see, then maybe...
An angry, inhuman screech suddenly ripped through him, and then all the pressure was gone. Ushijima had lost his breath for a second, so he couldn't scream, even though he jumped. When his eyes flew open, he was blinded by the brightness around him. It took his eyes a while to adjust to the light. He noticed that it was just his normal bedroom lamp, illuminating a lump in the middle of his bed.
Someone had buried themselves under the blankets.
Ushijima was pretty sure that someone was Oikawa.
“Oikawa!” he said, the relief clearly audible in his voice. The music had stopped. The air wasn't heavy anymore. Everything was easy and right again, except maybe for the egg-shaped lump on his bed.
Oikawa was sulking.
Then again – for Ushijima, this too was easy and right.
“I'm sorry that I didn't scream,” he said, slowly approaching the lump. “I thought you'd go further.”
“What for?”
Oikawa's voice was muffled behind the blankets, but it was melodramatic, and melodic, and right.
“You obviously didn't like it!” Oikawa continued, giving a small hiss. “You idiot! You stupid robot!”
Ushijima carefully patted the part of the lump where he thought Oikawa's head was hiding under.
“And after I embarrassed myself by going to my incubus friend for tips!” Oikawa said. “It was like admitting that I couldn't even seduce someone with just my beautiful face and winning personality!”
“I'm sorry,” Ushijima said. Relief was still pouring out of him, dripping heavily from the tip of his tongue. He took a deep breath to get it under control. “Can I... can I come in?”
It was quiet for a moment, except for a small sniffling sound coming from behind the blanket. But then, finally, the blanket parted to reveal a glowering Oikawa, cheeks blotchy red, nose runny, eyes bloodshot and shiny with tears. He was even wearing his glasses – Oikawa's ultimate form of not caring anymore. The rest of his body was dressed in the usual alien pajamas. Ushijima couldn't stop looking at him.
”What?” Oikawa hissed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I hope you're happy! You're so dense and simple, and yet I can't even figure you out!”
Ushijima slowly took one edge of the blanket from him and shifted his body so that he sat next to Oikawa, their sides warmly pressed together.
“I am the one who can't figure you out,” Ushijima said, when Oikawa leaned into him. “You are extremely powerful.”
Oikawa huffed. “Yeah, of course!”
“And yet you keep trying to scare me with aliens, even though you know I don't find them scary.”
Oikawa huffed again, and for a moment, Ushijima thought that would be his only answer. But then: “I told you that you had to wait. This is a form of long-time psychological-”
“Oikawa!” Ushijima interrupted him, nudging him with his shoulder. They were already so close – everything was warm and comfortable, and it felt like their bodies were melting together. And yet, Ushijima couldn't let go quite yet. “What are you going to do when you have my scream?”
Oikawa huffed a third time.
“What do you think?” he said. “Send it to my boss with a hallelujah. Except the demon version of a hallelujah. He'd probably be really cross if he heard me say hallelujah.”
“And after that?” Ushijima asked. “Would you come back?”
Oikawa threw him a sideways look under the temple stem of his glasses, scrunching up his nose.
“What kind of question is this?” he said. “Do you think that after three years, I'd be happy with only one scream? Don't think you can get rid of me so easily. I will pester you till the end of time, if I need to.”
“And if your boss orders you to move on?”
“Ha!” Oikawa smirked. “Then I'd know someone who would lend me a lot of history books to plan the perfect riot.”
The air was suddenly void of any remaining heaviness, void of gravity. Ushijima felt weightless. And because he was weightless, he no longer had any control over his body – it sunk into Oikawa, into the mattress, and the blankets, into softness and warmth, and then his lips reached Oikawa's and anchored him back to reality, even if it was the reality of magic.
Oikawa's arms had already wrapped around him and pulled him close enough that every breath Ushijima took was made of nothing but Oikawa.
Ushijima hadn't kissed all that many people in his life. He had kissed even less demons. He couldn't say if this feeling was some kind of hell magic, or some kind of love magic, or no magic at all, just rightness. He didn't care. All he cared about was Oikawa and his fluffy hair, and his alien pajamas, and the too big glasses cutting into the bridge of Ushijima's nose.
All he wanted was for nothing to change.
And yet.
***
Sunlight tickled him awake.
Ushijima was half entangled in the blanket, one naked leg carelessly spread over the mattress, the other pressed against a warm body underneath the sheets. Stuffy air made his thoughts run slow. It must have been a Monday, yet the alarm clock - inner as well as outer - had refused to wake him from his heavy sleep. Ushijima let go of a breath, still too drowsy to worry about work.
Something was different. He felt oddly content. Satisfied. In love.
It was then that he felt the body behind him shift, smooth fingers trailing along his lower back, and Ushijima's lips formed into a lazy smile.
Maybe... well, they'd have to talk about the alarm clock incident, but Ushijima wouldn't mind waking up like this for the rest of his life.
"Good morning," he hummed. His voice was slurry from sleep, it sounded strange to his own ears. He never really talked to anyone right after waking up. Oikawa didn't respond anything, but his fingers still drew across Ushijima's skin, leaving a pleasant trail of tingles.
It took a surprising amount of effort to turn around, but all Ushijima wanted was to look at Oikawa's face - hair probably mussed from sleep, eyelids still heavy, features soft. What he wouldn't give to see that face.
"Good morning, Oikaw-AAAAAAAH!"
The creature on the other side of the bed wore a broad smirk, but that was the most human thing about it. It was entirely green, eyes just two black slits, head the form of an inverted teardrop. It laid on its side, imitating a seductive pose, with its head propped up on an elbow, the other hand still on Ushijima's back. It was Oikawa's pajamas come to life.
Ushijima's scream transformed into a string of bubbling laughter - he couldn't believe that these sounds all came out of his own mouth, but it couldn't be stopped now.
Oikawa got him good. The puzzle pieces all fit.
Everything was as it was supposed to be, even with a demon-alien lying seductively in his bed, smirking at him.
Once Ushijima hiccuped out the last bubble of laughter, Oikawa had changed back to his usual form. He was staring at Ushijima with wonder. Amazement, even. The smirk had entirely dropped from his face.
"You win," Ushijima told him with nothing but a gasp of air. "Your boss must be happy."
"No way."
Oikawa's voice was soft, but it wasn't caused by the same drowsiness that still sat at the edge of Ushijima's consciousness. Oikawa's whole form was soft. The look in his eyes, and the hand reaching for Ushijima's face, and the smile playing on his lips.
"No way," he said again.
"I'm keeping this one for myself."