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Oikawa flopped onto his futon, the loud thump barely audible in the room full of chattering boys. “Attention! Attention please!”
The din died down, but just barely. Watching his best friend’s face morph into a pout, Iwaizumi chuckled, then turned to face the room. “Oi! Captain’s talking!”
That shut them up.
Oikawa turned his pout on Iwaizumi. “How come they listen to you, Iwa-chan? I'm the captain!”
“Not for much longer, you’re not.” Matsukawa’s voice floated over from somewhere off to his left and down, and Iwaizumi scowled at the mess of curls sticking up from Hanamaki's futon.
“I think we’re all aware of that. Mattsun, get out of Makki’s futon.”
“No. Wait, never mind, I will.” Matsukawa wiggled out from under the blanket. “It’s the last time you get to be the team mom, after all. Be honoured, this is the first and last time I’m listening to you.”
Iwaizumi opened his mouth, but was cut off before any words could make it out.
“As I was saying,” Oikawa sang, “It’s the last night of our last training camp while us third years are still here! Tomorrow we’ll be appointing the new captain and vice-captain, so how ‘bout we have some fun on the last night that we’re still the same team?”
“Someone’s getting sentimental.” Hanamaki quipped. Half the team grinned with him. The other just turned watery-eyed.
“Makki,” Oikawa complained. “I didn’t even tell everyone my brilliant idea yet!”
“Don’t say it. Our brains are already rotting from being in close proximity with you.”
“Mean! I’ll have you know that my presence enhances others' quality of life!”
“Okay, one more word from any of you that is the beginning of a stupid idea and you can sleep in the field. I hear there’s a thunderstorm on tonight.” Iwaizumi folded his arms as the rest of the team protested, scowling heavily at them. “It’s been a long day, and we could all do with some rest. Especially you, Oikawa. I see your phone under your pillow. No watching our opponents' games.”
“Iwa-chan, are you my mom? Ow!”
Iwaizumi shook his hand, wiggling off the impact of hitting Oikawa. Hanamaki eyed them with amusement, his grin oddly creepy when his head was tilted back.
“Not just your mom, he’s the team mom. Just let him do his duty for the last time.”
“Who’s the team dad, then? Karasuno has Sawamura. Who’s ours?” Matsukawa exchanged a look with the strawberry blond, then all eyes fell on Oikawa.
A second passed, then everyone shook their heads in sync.
“Nah.”
“Definitely not Oikawa-san.”
“Not the definition of a dad, for sure.”
Oikawa's indignant cries were drowned out by the team beginning to seriously discuss who their unofficial dad was.
“Matsukawa-san, maybe?”
“No, he and Hanamaki-san are like uncles. Those really nice uncles that make all the bad jokes.”
“Oi, we heard that–“
“I’ll have you know that meme-ing is a fine art–“
“There’s no such word, Makki–“
“There is now–“
“What about Yahaba?”
“Naw, he’s the next team mom–“
“Watari?”
“No, no, no, it has to be a third year too–“
Everyone fell silent as they scrutinised the third years, all contemplating the question.
Kunimi was the one to break the silence. “Iwaizumi-san.”
Said boy perked up. “Yes, Kunimi?”
The spiker shook his head. “I’m stating a fact.”
It took a heartbeat for that to sink in.
“Oh, he’s right–“
“Great thinking, Kunimi, who else could it be–“
“That’s brilliant, how come we never saw it before–“
“Well, that solves the mystery–“
“Wait! WAIT, wait, wait, wait.” Iwaizumi burst out, holding his hands up in the shape of an ‘X’. “How can I be the team dad if you already said I’m the team mom?”
Crickets chirped outside, their song the only sound in the silence.
Hanamaki reached out from Matsukawa’s futon, laying a solemn hand on his knee. (It was the farthest he could reach from two beds away.) “Iwa-chan, you poor thing. You’re both the mom and dad of the team.”
Silence. Then, “We thank you for the sacrifices you have made for this team, Iwaizumi.” Matsukawa added his hand to the ‘console Iwaizumi Hajime for gaining a bad hand in life’ pile.
Kyoutani crawled over from his futon and patted his senior on the shoulder. “Nobody puts up with Oikawa-san like you do.”
The ball had started rolling, and it wouldn’t stop. One by one, all the members of the team came up to him and patted him on some part of his body, thanking him for his great sacrifice for the team. Iwaizumi didn’t know if he should laugh or cry because of some of the comments, frozen with shock as he was. Meanwhile, Oikawa was visibly shaking next to him, but he couldn’t even turn his head to see why.
Finally, Oikawa was the only one left who had not said something sappy and sentimental to Iwaizumi. He tugged on his sleeve, forcing the exasperated-slash-amused-slash-something-else-he-couldn't-identify vice-captain to face him. At this point, Iwaizumi’s chest was impossibly tight, his throat clogged with unshed tears. He didn’t know he was such a sentimental sap until then, but he really didn't need to start bawling in front of the first and second years.
Oikawa looked at him solemnly, any hint of laughter from earlier gone. He was so serious that his eyes didn’t even sparkle with their usual mischief. “Iwa-chan.”
“Yeah?” Oh damn, his voice was scratchy. That wasn’t a good sign.
“Thank you for being the backbone of the team, and for being our ace. We never would have gotten this far without you.”
Damnit, those were definitely tears pricking his eyes. “Oikawa…”
“Without you, I would have destroyed my knee long ago. It’s bad enough as it is. The team’s right, we don’t appreciate you enough. So, thank you, Iwa-chan. We wouldn’t have gotten half as good as we are now without you beating our asses up over under or overworking ourselves.”
Iwaizumi dropped his face into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut and attempting to breathe calmly. Tears painted his palms as he failed to control his shoulders' shaking, the emotional build-up spilling over.
A warm body collided into him, forcing him to put one hand down to keep his balance. The other came up to cradle the head of fluffy brown hair, gripping the tresses semi-forcefully. “What are you doing, Shittykawa?”
Ah shucks. His voice was water-logged.
“Iwa-chaaaannnn!” Oikawa wailed. “Don’t cry, I’ll cry too!”
“I’m not crying.” A fresh stream of tears streaked his cheeks, and he hid his face in Oikawa’s hair. “I’m not crying.”
“You two are so sappy.” Hanamaki said, but he was red-eyed as well. Matsukawa sniffed from his other side.
“Makki?”
“Yeah?”
They shared a look, then their blankets were flying everywhere as they threw themselves at Iwaizumi and Oikawa. “Group hug!”
The rest of the team let out strangled yells as they scrambled to join in, tears and howls emanating from each of them as they piled on top of their captain and vice-captain. Iwaizumi couldn’t breathe from the weight of the bodies pressing down on him, but now everyone was crying and hugging and wailing together, and somehow, it was the best team bonding he ever had.
x.x.x.x.x
“Oikawa?”
“Mm?”
“You never said what you wanted to do, earlier.”
“Oh.” There was a sleepy whine as Oikawa shifted closer. “I wanted a pillow fight, but that crying session was a lot better than what I was thinking of.”
“You’re a weirdo, you know that?”
“So are you, Iwa-chan.”
Iwaizumi reached out across the space separating their futons and squeezed Oikawa’s hand. “Thank you. For what you said earlier.”
“I meant it. I really am grateful. Where would I be without you, Iwa-chan?”
“Lying broken on the floor of a volleyball court.”
“Iwa-chaaaannn.”
“Yeah, yeah. Like I'd ever leave you behind, idiot.”
“Mmm.” Oikawa was falling asleep, the grip on his hand loosening. “G’night Hajime.”
The familiar use of his name brought back memories of a childhood shared, a comfort like a favourite blanket. Iwaizumi squeezed his fingers one last time before relaxing into his pillow. “Goodnight, Tooru.”