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He could not believe his luck. Finally at the beach away from all of the stress of city and university life, and he forgets his sunscreen.
If there was one thing Oikawa was not, it was careless. He would not develop skin cancer later in life because he didn’t have the wherewithal to remember the simple lotion.
So he sits with his arms crossed underneath the umbrella and simmers. It has to be pushing one hundred degrees. As the rays of light beat down like unforgiving hands on a drum, Oikawa observes the scene before him.
Girls of every shape and size play in the sand and waves. Boys chase them and each other up and down the shoreline. Oikawa huffs a sigh and stands up, getting ready to throw caution to the wind. He lifts his foot to step out into the merciless light and is suddenly, painfully tackled into the sand. He can’t breathe for a moment; the air has never been so forcefully knocked out of him.
“Ho, shit, I’m so sorry, are you all right? Fuck,” The voice directed at him is light and brown, and Oikawa thinks he must’ve been hit harder than he originally thought if voices were sounding like colors. He vaguely registers a volleyball rolling to a stop in the sand a few feet past him. A small crowd gathers around and the brown voice is a constant stream in his ear. He’s dazed, but he can breathe again. He sits up gingerly and is rewarded with warm hands bracing him against gravity. He blinks once, then twice. His swimming vision finally settles.
“Oi, are you okay?” The sandy voice belonged to an equally sandy man. Mr. Brown it is. And oh, was Mr. Brown something pretty. Freckles dotted along his nose, shoulders and dipped down his sides into his firetruck red shorts. With the man practically on top of him, Oikawa couldn’t help the fact that he was staring at his abs. He figured he could play it off from the thrashing he just received.
Oikawa coughs and breathes in slowly. The initial pain subsides slowly like receding waves and he brushes sand off of his face and shoulder.
“No thanks to you,” he says, wondering why in the world he says this. Oh, he was going to ruin this beachside romance with Mr. Brown before it even happened! Oikawa curses his dirt mouth, but doesn’t apologize.
The tanned man doesn’t stiffen or anything, though. He helps Oikawa to his feet and brushes more sand out of his hair. Oikawa feels all of five years old in that moment.
“I’m fine, just,” Oikawa starts, unable to find a proper excuse to get the man’s hands off of him. He coughs again, and it hurts. The crowd has already begun to disperse. Oikawa is thankful.
“Iwaizumi, are you…” A pale man, with light, light hair approaches them and Oikawa suddenly feels something akin to a pit form in his stomach. The way the man’s face falls and then lifts in a smile, wide and animalistic, puts him on edge.
“I’ll tell Daichi you’re,” the man looks between the two, where the man’s hands are still on Oikawa, “busy. I’ll catch you later, man.” Mr. Brown brings his hand to his mouth and grumbles something to the affirmative and is guiding Oikawa to a pair of benches next to the lifeguard’s lean-to.
“I’m fine, it’s,” Oikawa doesn’t get to finish his complaint, because the man’s hands are on his face pulling down the skin below his cheeks. His gaze bores into Oikawa’s.
“Just checkin’.” Then he’s pulling something from his pocket. Oikawa doesn’t get a chance to react before a sheer white light is blinding him. He yelps and pulls away. The man chuckles and straightens. “Pupils in working order.” Oikawa grumbles, rubbing his closed eyes. “Wait here, just a sec,” the man continues and Oikawa blinks up at him, expression passive. The man arches a black eyebrow and grins before walking up the wooden steps and into the little hut.
Oikawa has a moment to collect himself then. His head does hurt and he feels the beginnings of bruises where he fell on his left arm. He groans softly as he rubs his forehead. So much for a relaxing day at the beach.
“Here,” From up and to his right, the honey sounding man is holding a water bottle like an olive branch. Oikawa is reticent to accept. But then he realizes he is thirsty. He takes the offering from the man and silently opens it. In any other situation, he’d be turning up the flirt to max. Because even if he was a lady’s man, he still had functioning eyes. But his head is aching and he’s hot and he really just wants to sit in the ocean for a little bit before returning to his apartment three hours inland.
“You need ibuprofen? Tylenol? Got any allergies?” Oikawa raises an eyebrow and takes a pull from his drink. The red shorts suddenly click. The reason he was carrying a flashlight makes sense now.
“You’re a lifeguard.”
He nods, rummaging through a red bag with a sleek white cross on the outside.
“I’m Iwaizumi. What’s your name?” Oikawa watches him rearrange a few things in the bag. When he doesn’t respond after an appropriate amount of time has passed, Mr. Bro- Iwaizumi stops what he’s doing.
“Uh-oh. What’s the date today? How old are you?” Iwaizumi asks, turning his attention to Oikawa. He rolls his eyes.
“It’s Sunday, June 16th. I’m twenty-three. I’m Oikawa. How old are you?” Oikawa challenges, water bottle held lightly between his hands. Iwaizumi leans back from where he was hunched over the bag and smiles down at him.
“Twenty-seven. Nice to meet you, Oikawa. Sorry about bowling you over like that.” Oikawa looks up and shields his eyes from the sun as he examines his assailant/savior.
“What brings you to the beach today?” he continues.
“Not getting tackled by 180 pounds of man.” Iwaizumi snorts and zips up the bag. In his hands are two bottles, Band-Aids, and anti-septic wipes. He steps down on to the sand and stands in front of Oikawa. Oikawa accepts the Tylenol and downs the pills, chasing it with what was left in his water bottle.
“Hold still for a moment,” is all the warning he gets before the lifeguard’s hands are on his face again. He angles Oikawa’s face to his left and opens one of the bandages. He studies the old wood shack as Iwaizumi wipes down and patches up a few scrapes on his cheek and neck.
“I’d like to let you know I don’t make it a habit of tackling normal beach-goers.”
“Only the attractive ones?” Oikawa asks with a raised brow.
Iwaizumi flushes an insanely attractive red. Oikawa laughs and shakes his head.
“Thank you for the drugs,” he says, giving the man an out. He was feeling better with the water settling in his system.
“Now you make it sound like this was some kind of illicit exchange,” Iwaizumi says, rubbing his mouth.
“You’re the one who tackled me."
“Ran into. On accident.”
“Sure,” Oikawa purrs. Iwaizumi bristles a little bit, but he’s still smiling. Oikawa is hooked.
They part ways after another twenty or so minutes of Iwaizumi fussing over him. He watches the lifeguard return to his post. Oikawa is tickled.
Rolling clouds blot out harshest of the sun’s light. Oikawa makes for the ocean and sits down in the sand, water rushing up his legs and around his waist. It soothes him then, the sound of it all.
He digs his hands into the ground next to him and is content to play by himself. It’s then, of course, he’s approached by a group of girls. He smiles at them and they flit and sit next to him and it’s okay, but they don’t sound like honey. Soon, they grow tired of his quiet presence. They all smile and simper and Oikawa smiles and simpers back. They move on to the next.
Oikawa lies on his back and enjoys the mix of the hot sun and cool ocean water. He drifts between lucidity and dreams. He doesn’t know how long he’s laid there when the heat suddenly disappears. Oikawa opens an eye. Iwaizumi is looming over him, arms crossed. Oikawa lets his eyes wander for the second time that day. Oh, does the lifeguard paint quite the picture. Oikawa imagines him spread out on a beach towel, warm and loose. He imagines other things and smiles languidly.
“The tide’s rising,” is all Iwaizumi says. But he doesn’t move from where he stands above Oikawa, expression on the edge of something. Oikawa stretches, his back arching off of his sandy bed.
Iwaizumi rubs his mouth and steps away. Oikawa can’t stop the grin that breaks on his face.
“Nervous habit?” he asks, moving to stand up. The water is coming up a little higher now that he’s paying attention. Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. Oikawa shrugs and dusts sand off of his back and arms.
“You rub your mouth when you’re embarrassed.” Oikawa doesn’t miss the way Iwaizumi holds his arms very still. The redness in his face returns.
“Let me guess,” he grumbles, scratching the back of his head. “You majored in psychology?”
“No, I’ve just been trying very hard to embarrass you.” Oikawa doesn’t entirely expect the shout of laughter. But he smiles with the lifeguard, feeling lighter for having brought it out of him.
“Give me your number.” Oikawa blinks. He’s not used to someone else taking the initiative.
“Why would you want that, Iwa-chan?”
“Oh, call me that one more time and you’ll never find out."
“Iwaizumi-chan.”
“Like that’s any better.” But the man is still smiling and Oikawa feels something tightening in his stomach.
“Hajime!” Iwaizumi looks up and the light haired man from before is trotting toward them.
“Suga, what’s up?”
“Dai and I are headed out, just thought I’d say goodbye. But it looks like you’ve got your hands full,” the man smiles. His beauty mark has to be drawn on, thinks Oikawa.
Iwaizumi doesn’t miss a beat though.
“Okay, we’ll see you around, Sugawara. Text me later.”
“Oh, I will.” Sugawara walks away, laughing. Oikawa would go as far as to call it cackling.
“Sorry, all of my friends are weirdos.” Oikawa chuckles and is pulled back into Iwaizumi’s presence. He shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. He shakes out more sand.
“I’ve met worse.”
“Just wait.”
“Is that a promise?”
“If you’d give me your stupid phone number, yes.” Oikawa’s eyes are wide with fervor. This was going to be fun.
He relents (hardly a surrender) and they exchange numbers. Or at least Iwaizumi does. Oikawa left his phone in a rental locker a mile down the beach. The two walk together for a bit as Iwaizumi finishes up his shift, handing over some of his gear to a short ginger who didn’t look a day over eighteen.
“Thanks, Hinata. I’ll see you Wednesday.” The man (read: man-child) smiles so wide it looks like it hurts. Then Iwaizumi turns to Oikawa and Oikawa feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Iwaizumi has this positively wicked grin on his face. He whistles nonchalantly before suddenly grabbing Oikawa by the wrist. They nearly topple one another into the water and Oikawa is quick to splash back in retaliation. He’s not prepared for how fast a swimmer Iwaizumi is. And then the man charges forward through the waves and pulls Oikawa under.
Oikawa surfaces to the sound of Iwaizumi’s laughter. It’s doing things to his heart rate.
“I’m counting that as the second tackle of the day.” Oikawa swears the man sticks out his tongue. “When you meet my parents, I’m going to have to tell them you’re abusive,” Oikawa declares. Iwaizumi’s face radiates heat from where he stands a few feet away. Oikawa barks a surprised laugh. They size one another up before Iwaizumi replies with, “When you meet my grandparents, I’m going to have to tell them you have an ugly laugh.”
Oikawa gasps.
“You take that back!”
When Hajime meets Tooru’s parents, he blushes so hard he nearly faints.
When Tooru meets Hajime’s grandparents, he bursts into tears because they're 'too cute'.
Sugawara calls it both times.