Work Text:
I'm, I'm so in love with you
Whatever you want to do
Is alright with me
Cause you make me feel, so brand new
And I want to spend my life with you
Suga is drinking his usual afternoon coffee and answering a Sudoku puzzle when he hears a crash and a blood-curdling scream of “OH MY GOD!” from his neighbor. He chokes on his coffee and his pencil slips from his grasp, clattering to the wooden floor.
Suga, being named as “Mother Hen of the 9th Floor”, immediately grabs for some insect spray and a broom lying around. Oikawa Tooru, whose middle name is Drama, would only scream in that way if there were a cockroach flitting around. Suga hastily writes a 4 on the grid of his Sudoku puzzle, and then jumps out of his apartment and immediately runs down to 916.
“Oikawa, where is it? I brought the spray, grab your slipper!” Suga cries, throwing the door open, expecting to see a teary-eyed, shivering 6”1 volleyball star shaking in his faded Star Trek t-shirt.
Well, he wasn’t completely wrong with the prediction.
Because Tooru was teary-eyed all right. But he wasn’t being terrorized by a flying cockroach or a praying mantis.
Rather, he was crying into the broad shoulders of long-time boyfriend, Iwaizumi Hajime. Tooru had his legs and arms wrapped around Iwaizumi, his head buried into the slot of Iwaizumi’s neck.
“Oh, so I guess no cockroach then.” Suga says, laughing a little.
Iwaizumi turns, his cheeks flushed and looking like he had just won the lottery. “Hey Suga, sorry for the false alarm.” With little to no effort, he manages to carry Tooru’s weight on one arm, and the other reaches for a handshake.
Suga takes it warmly, smirking. “I guess I’ll be handing over the cockroach killing to you for the remainder of the summer.”
Tooru then looks up, his nose running, and his eyes red but shining beautifully. “Koushi, I just want to apologize for any future banging sounds you may hear in the future, if you know what I mean—“
His boyfriend turns even redder. “Oh GOD SHUT UP, Why do I even deal with your bullshit—“
“And when I mean banging sounds, I mean banging sounds—“ Oikawa speaks over his flustered best friend, kissing Iwaizumi’s temple.
Suga should be disgusted, but really, he isn’t. Not when he knows that Tooru hasn’t seen Iwaizumi in five months.
“I swear to God, Shittykawa, I will drop you right now if you keep talking!” The black-haired man growls, making no move to drop his boyfriend at all.
“Just so we’re clear, Koushi, by banging sounds, I mean—“
“Oikawa don’t—“
“I mean, sex.” Oikawa finishes proudly, his smile so pure and wide as he lays his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder again.
“I got it, Tooru. Crystal clear.” Suga says, trying to keep a straight face. “I don’t know if I can forgive you in advance, but thanks for letting me know.”
Iwaizumi looks utterly defeated. “I’m so sorry, Suga, you don’t have to worry about anything, we’ll uh—keep it down.”
Tooru winks at his white-haired neighbor. “No guarantees, Koushi.”
“All right, I’ve had enough.” Suga laughs. “I’m leaving, before I vomit from this lovey-dovey reunion. Let’s have dinner tomorrow! I’ll tell everyone.”
He closes the door, but not before he sees Iwaizumi head-butt his boyfriend, and then kiss it tenderly right afterwards.
They say since, baby, since we've been together
Loving you forever
Is what I need
Let me be the one you come running to
I'll never be untrue
Akaashi loves his apartment; it’s a little small and the stove works only half the time, but he loves the city view, especially in the morning. He likes to take out a chair into the cramped balcony, and bask in the warm summer sun.
At 8 am on a Saturday morning, Akaashi, in his pajamas, fills his green watering can and slides the window door open. The sun greets him, and he breathes in the summer air. He’s about to pour the water into his potted plants (each clay pot painted to look like owls, done rather recklessly by his boyfriend), when he hears giggling and low voices.
Akaashi looks up, confused, because he never usually hears anything at this time. The residents of the 9th floor usually sleep in during weekends, and rarely do they go out giggling about. He looks to both of his sides, and sees the culprits three balconies down to his left.
It’s Oikawa, in his too-short alien-green boxers, holding his cellphone. He’s sitting on top of the very famous boyfriend, Iwaizumi Hajime (famous in the sense that Oikawa has been talking about him non-stop for the past few months during Suga’s 9th floor potluck parties). The apartment building is so narrow, that Akaashi can hear the couple on their balcony clearly, without even pulling an ear muscle.
“Iwa-chan, you have to smile! That’s what your mouth is for.” Oikawa pouts, trying to angle his phone for the perfect selfie.
“Oh yeah? I can think of other ways to use my mouth.” Iwaizumi replies smoothly, his hands landing on his boyfriend’s hips.
Even from 3 rooms away, Akaashi can feel Oikawa’s triumphant smirk. “Is that so? Why don’t you tell me what you have in mind?” Their foreheads are touching now, and it’s getting a little too intimate for Akaashi’s tastes.
“Why don’t I just show you?”
With that, Akaashi promptly folds his chair and returns inside, all the while hearing “Oh my God, Hajime, did you just say that?!” and “Do you want to make out or not, stupid!?!?”.
He just hopes that in an hour his neighbors will be done with their business, so he can go back and water his plants.
Let's, let's stay together
Lovin' you whether, whether
Times are good or bad, happy or sad
Whether times are good or bad, happy or sad
“Hajime, you need to stretch me a little more…”
“Are you sure? It might hurt.”
“Babe, I trust you.”
“Ok, tell me when you can’t take it anymore.”
“A-ah, Hajime—“
The door of Oikawa’s apartment bursts open, “SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKERS!” Hanamaki cries gleefully. Matsukawa is right behind him, holding his phone, videoing the entire thing. “Wait, what the fuck?”
The two stare at Oikawa and Iwaizumi, who are both in yoga attire, stretched out on their mats. Oikawa, wearing one of Iwaizumi’s volleyball jerseys and leggings, is balancing himself on his arms while the rest of his body is angled upwards.
“Makki, you just interrupted what would be my first time at getting the Peacock pose right! Care to explain yourself?” The brunette says, returning his body to the usual alignment of gravity. He adjusts his neon green headband, huffing.
“How’d you two get inside in the first place?” Iwaizumi asks, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat off his flushed face.
Makki shakes his head, looking upset. “Can I just say, for the record, that I still can’t believe Issei and I haven’t caught you two doing the naughty—it’s been too long, and my dreams of getting incredible blackmail material are slowly dying.”
Matsukawa closes the camera application on his phone and returns it to his jeans pocket. “I thought we had them, too.”
Iwaizumi’s nose crinkles and his eyes narrow, “You guys wanted to catch us having sex? What the hell?”
Oikawa slithers unto his boyfriend’s lap, and cradles his head in between his setter hands. “Sshh, baby, don’t listen to them, Makki is just jealous he doesn’t get to bang a man with the most perfect biceps and thighs.”
Mattsun nods somberly. “Alas, Takahiro has to make do with me. It’s truly a tragedy.”
The pink-haired man sighs dramatically. “May I also add—Iwaizumi?” He pointedly stares at him. “Who allowed you to do yoga half-naked? I’m getting triggered right now, get your perfect body out of my sight. My God, and I call you my friend.”
“I’ll have you know that Hajime has my 100% support to doing yoga without a t-shirt.” Tooru comes to the defense of his boyfriend, placing his head on one bulging bicep.
Iwaizumi is framing his head in his hands, the tips of his ears turning red. “I don’t want to be part of this.”
“If it’s any consolation,” Matsukawa adds, munching on a banana he found in Oikawa’s kitchen. “I support you too, Iwaizumi. I don’t mind leering at the flawless male body during my free time.”
“I’ll get you two sooner or later, just wait and see.” Hanamaki proudly says, settling down on the worn-out couch. “Hey Oikawa, when’s your next sex day?
Oikawa immediately shoots a glare at his former teammate. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He hisses, eyes shooting daggers.
Iwaizumi lifts his head, looking baffled. “What did you just say? Did you just say—“
“Oh you know, your boyfriend always plans a sex day, being the crazy perfectionist he is—“
“Did I just hear sex day?!”
Tooru abruptly jumps up, and kicks his purple yoga mat, rolling it up with his foot. “OK! How about some dinner, I’ll pay for the delivery! Mattsun, there are a couple of beers in the fridge, why don't you and Makki help yourselves?” He picks up his mat, and drinks a big gulp of water from his jug.
The pink-haired’s eyes twinkle mischievously and nods towards his boyfriend. “Pass me a bottle of beer won’t you, dearest?”
***
Kyoto doesn’t have much of a glittering skyline as its sister cities Tokyo or Osaka, but the 9th floor was high enough to give the boys a sweeping night view of the former capital of Japan. And even after finishing Oikawa’s beer supply, they still had the ability to appreciate it from the window sliding doors.
Hanamaki was drunk as fuck, his face as pink as his hair; he was leaning on Issei, who had finished four bottles of beer and was showing no sign of intoxication except for the fact that he was giggling every 10 seconds.
“Oh shit,” Hanamaki laughs, covering his eyes with a hand. “I’m so fucking drunk right now, how do I get home?”
Iwaizumi, the lightweight of the group, is shining red as he replies, “You live at the end of the hallway, shithead.”
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pipes in, his voice whiny and child-like – a voice that comes out when he’s needy for his boyfriend. “Iwa-chan, don’t leave me.” His voice ends all warbly, and Hajime squints to see if his boyfriend is crying.
“Hey, hey, I’m right here.” He replies softly, brushing the soft brown hair away from his setter’s warm face.
“You know who else is here? Me and Issei.” Hanamaki croaks, grabbing Issei’s half-full beer bottle and guzzling most of it down. “Don’t pull your romantic shit on us.”
The other two take no notice, because Iwaizumi is kissing Oikawa’s hot tears away. Oikawa is softly sobbing, his hands grasping at his ace’s t-shirt. “Hajime, you only have 12 days, 9 hours and 24 minutes before you go back to Tokyo! W-what am I going to do without you?” He whimpers, burying his face unto his boyfriend’s chest.
Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything, he just peppers light kisses unto Oikawa’s jawline and neck.
“You guys are so disgusting, it’s inspiring.” Hanamaki comments, watching the scene play. He grabs a phone (Tooru’s—the wallpaper is Iwaizumi’s naked back during a beach trip to Okinawa) and starts taking pictures.
“Or they’re so inspiring, it’s disgusting.” Matsukawa adds, chuckling to himself.
“Good one.”
“W-what time is it, I can’t see—where are my glasses?” Tooru hiccups, temporarily breaking away from Iwaizumi’s embrace.
“I got you, babe.” Iwaizumi reaches across the table and gets the tortoise-shell glasses. Fondly, he places them on the bridge of his blind boyfriend’s nose, and then kisses it right after.
“Hajime, you spoil me too much.”
“It’s my favorite thing to do.”
Oikawa flings himself unto his boyfriend, kissing him fervently. The two are soon lost in their own world, hips moving and deep kissing.
“Ugh, I miss the old days where they sneak into the sports equipment room to suck each other’s faces.” Hanamaki complains, unsteadily getting up. “Can they even hear me?”
Matsukawa gets up as well, and puts his hands on Takahiro’s shoulders to steady him. “This is our chance—take a video, and we’ll make Oikawa buy us ramen whenever we please.” He snickers, nudging at his boyfriend’s hand holding their former captain’s cellphone.
“No, I don’t settle for mediocrity.” Hanamaki shakes his head, but his eyes are shining. “Besides, I know exactly what day to barge in and catch them.”
“Am I that drunk, because I’m not following.”
Takahiro sniggers, and shows Issei Oikawa’s phone, which has the Calendar application opened. “August 19th, Sex Day with Iwa-chan, Alarm set at 8:30 a.m.”
“Holy fuck.”
“Let’s get out of here and let them enjoy, while they still can.” The pink-haired man grins, glancing at their former teammates.
“This is why I fell in love with you, Hiro.”
Why, why some people break up
Then turn around and make up
I just can't see
You'd never do that to me (would you, baby)
Staying around you is all I see
Daichi manages to open the heavy roof door while holding Suga’s laundry basket. The cool late afternoon breeze comforts him as he begins to hang his best friend’s pajamas on the clothesline. He goes to school in Osaka, a 40-minute train ride away, and it never fails to amaze him that he can see the Daimonji – a hill with the kanji 大 carved unto it – from the rooftop. The sky is a mix of wine and a four seasons drink, and it’s where Kyoto is at its most beautiful.
“Oh, Sawamura, hey.” A voice from behind him says, and it draws Daichi’s attention from his thoughts.
He searches for the voice, and sees Iwaizumi sitting on the cement floor, with a napping Oikawa, his head on his lap. Iwaizumi is reading a book while lazily combing through the setter’s hair, and the former Karasuno captain tries not to smile.
“Nice to see you, Iwaizumi.” Daichi replies politely, clipping Suga’s mismatched socks and old t-shirts. “You guys waiting for your clothes to dry?”
“Nah, we did our chores yesterday. Oikawa convinced me to go tanning with him, but I guess he was still tired from Karaoke with Kuroo last night.”
“Ah, no wonder he’s sleeping like a rock.”
Iwaizumi grunts, turning a page. “A drooling rock.” He then turns sideways, looking at Daichi, “What about you, what brings you here?” He eyes Suga’s laundry basket, looking amused.
Daichi blushes slightly, and drapes the newly washed towels on the pole. “Suga has a high fever – he can’t even get up to get a glass of water. And he still insists that because it’s Thursday, he has to do the laundry. I just decided to help out.”
Aoba Johsai’s ace grins, putting down his book. “Oikawa would always tell me over the phone what a great boyfriend you are; Suga’s lucky.”
The former captain’s blush reddens, and he clears his throat, facing away from the couple. “M-me and Suga, we’re not—we’re not together.” He feels like dying.
Iwaizumi almost drops his book and his head whips around so fast, he feels a little whiplash coming on. “I thought—it’s just that Tooru kept telling me stories about you two…” His voice softens. “Sorry, it’s not my business.”
A silence falls over the two university students, and Daichi looks up to the sky, which was turning into a beautiful shade of sunset. From the distance, he can hear summer wind-bells chiming, and the whirr of a nearby train passing. He turns to the couple, and sees Iwaizumi give the sleeping volleyball player a kiss on his temple.
“Hey, Iwaizumi.” Daichi breaks the quiet, and continues hanging his best friend’s laundry. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Did you ever think that confessing could—“
“Could ruin your friendship?” Iwaizumi finishes, smiling knowingly at him. “That was everything I could think of.”
“It’s a frightening thought, I don’t want to lose Koushi.”
“You won’t. Trust me.”
“I love him, but what if—“
“You love him, that’s all you need.” Iwaizumi is blushing now, scratching his neck. “I’m not really good at this stuff—shit, you should be talking to Tooru, but from what I hear, you guys are ‘stupidly in love’, in his words.”
Daichi looks just as embarrassed, opening and closing his mouth, but not finding the words.
The ace takes a deep breath and starts, “I grew up with Oikawa and I thought that at some point, we were gonna go our own paths, you know? People change, and it’s normal to grow out of things.” He coughs a little, the tips of his ears powdered with the same pink as the sky. “But as we grew, and despite the both of us changing, I loved him every time. And I realized, I didn’t want to grow without him.”
The Karasuno captain felt his face heat up, from the surprisingly genuine words.
“Ah, fuck, what I’m trying to say is—if you have ever felt that way with Suga—“
“I have.” Daichi says almost immediately, looking at the spiky-haired man straight in the eyes. “Everyday.”
“Then, you should tell him how you feel. Because that kind of love will never go away.”
Another silence falls upon them, and as Daichi is about to say something, Oikawa stirs awake, letting out a loud yawn. “Mmn, Hajime, you make an excellent napping spot.” He stretches and sits up, eventually leaning his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.
“Yeah, well, my leg is dead now, thanks to you.” Hajime grumbles, trying to unfold his left leg. “Ah, shit, pins and needles—“
“Oh! It’s Daichi-kun!” Oikawa cuts the ace off, smiling brightly, all sleepiness immediately dissipating. “What are you doing here, aside from constantly pining over Koushi?”
“Shittykawa!”
Daichi chuckles, used to the bluntness of the brunette that lived a door away from Suga. “Well, Suga isn’t feeling too well so I’m helping with his laundry.” He explains, grinning.
“Ah, Daichi, you’re a saint. You really know how to make a man feel loved!” Tooru replies, winking. “Hajime you better be careful, or Daichi-kun here could just take me away!”
“Sawamura, please take him.” Hajime says, without missing a beat.
“Iwa-chan! You’re so cold! I’m going with Daichi, just watch—I take back what I said about you being a great napping spot, you don’t deserve—“
“I see now what you said, Iwaizumi.” The black-haired man murmurs, causing the two to stop their bickering. “Ah, I better get going, Suga might have died trying to get himself to the bathroom.”
“What did you say to him, Hajime?” Oikawa turns around to his boyfriend, looking confused.
“See you around, Sawamura. And good luck.” Iwaizumi replies, smiling knowingly. They watch as Daichi picks up the empty laundry basket and with a wave, he leaves the rooftop.
A thump hits Iwaizumi’s chest as Tooru huffs at him. “What did you say to Daichi-kun? Tell me!” His eyes are so wide and so brown, Iwaizumi wants to kiss him senseless.
“It’s a secret.” He whispers in his boyfriend’s ear, before digging his nose unto Tooru’s neck.
“Iwa-chan, no secrets!”
“I didn’t tell him anything you don’t already know.” He replies, rolling his eyes.
The sun is almost completely gone, and Kyoto begins to glitter. Hajime doesn’t want to think about going back to noisy Tokyo, and an empty apartment without the scent of Oikawa lingering around.
“Which is?”
He gazes into his childhood best friend’s eyes, always so bright and warm. “That you’re an asshole.”
“I hate you! Koushi is so lucky to have Daichi-kun, who would never call him mean things!” Tooru protests, scrambling to get away from Iwaizumi’s grasp. He weakly smacks his boyfriend’s well-built chest, pouting.
“Sorry, that wasn’t it.” Hajime gathers Tooru in his arms, his arms encircling his waist and his forehead resting on the others. They’re both so warm, and he exhales slowly when he feels Oikawa’s fingers dance around his jawline.
“I’m waiting.” The setter says softly, stroking his barely-there stubble.
“I told him…” Iwaizumi whispers, “That your downward dog is still lousy even after all these years of yoga.”
There’s a short silence, until Hajime begins to laugh, unabashedly and genuinely. Tooru stares in awe, and joins in the laughter, until there are tears in his eyes.
He places his hand on Hajime’s chest to ground himself, and feels his strong and steady heartbeat.