Chapter Text
The locker room door creaked open, and the team shuffled in for morning practice, stretching and yawning—only to collectively freeze at the sight before them.
Nestled together on the bench, you and Oikawa were sound asleep, limbs tangled up like a messy game of Twister, heads resting against each other. The soft rise and fall of your breathing was the only sound in the room.
There was a long, stunned silence.
“Holy shit.”
Hanamaki grabbed Matsukawa’s arm, shaking it violently. “Do you see what I’m seeing?”
“Oh my god,” Kunimi whispered, voice trembling. “They’re spooning.”
Matsukawa squinted, “That’s not just spooning. That’s post-nut coma level of intimacy.”
“Do you think they’re dead?” Yahaba whispered, concerned.
Kyoutani cracked his knuckles. “Want me to check?”
“No! We won’t wake them up. We'll study them. Like rare, undiscovered creatures.” Matsukawa declared sagely, rubbing his chin.
Iwaizumi sighed heavily, already nursing an incoming headache, "You guys are unbelievable.”
Hanamaki grinned and whipped out his phone. “I’m preserving this for science.”
Click.
The bright, blinding flash went off like a miniature sun.
Oikawa’s eyes snapped open, "Are you trying to burn my fucking retinas?!”
You stirred at the sound of his scream, groggy and confused. “Wha—”
Oikawa was still blinking aggressively, rubbing his assaulted eyeballs.
The realization hit you like a truck.
There were at least ten pairs of eyes staring at you. Hanamaki was grinning like a madman, still holding up his phone. Matsukawa looked vaguely ready to faint. Yahaba had a hand over his mouth like he’d just witnessed a murder. Kyoutani was just nodding approvingly.
Oikawa, still seeing spots, waved a hand in front of his face. “Why is everything blue?”
“What the fuck?!” you screeched, jolting upright so fast you nearly ate shit off the bench.
Oikawa blinked, his vision clearing slowly. “You were all over me!”
“Bullshit! You were clinging to me like a goddamn koala!”
“You were basically humping my leg—”
“You had me in a fucking headlock!”
“The fuck I had—”
Matsukawa smirked. “So it’s confirmed. You two fucked.”
“We did not fuck!” you both exclaim in unison.
“Whoa, whoa, no need to be shy,” Hanamaki said, waving his hands. “We’re all friends here. If you wanna tell us about how Oikawa rearranged your cervical vertebrae—”
“You shut your whore mouth.”
Iwaizumi, pinching the bridge of his nose, finally intervened, pointing towards the opposite direction, “You know there’s an emergency exit at the back, right?”
Deafening silence. Slowly, every head turned towards him.
Oikawa uttered a bone-chilling wail. So filled with sheer despair, that even Kyoutani took a step back.
You barely had time to register the crippling humiliation before your vision blurred, your legs gave out, and you dramatically hit the floor. The last thing you saw before the world tilted sideways was Hanamaki still grinning like a shithead.
Safe to say, you didn’t so much as breathe in the direction of the outside world that entire weekend.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Oikawa Tooru was many things.
Dramatic? Probably.
Petty? Absolutely.
An elite athlete with devastatingly good looks and a sharp, unparalleled volleyball IQ? Yes, yes, and yes.
But above all else, he was suspicious as hell.
And right now, you were giving him every reason to be.
It had started small. He thought at first, maybe it was the events of last Friday that made you act a little weird, which to be fair, was completely understandable.
You were hunched over your desk in class, grinning at your phone, thumbs moving at the speed of light.
You giggled at something which was definitely not as funny as him. Even Iwaizumi, who had been half-asleep, opened one eye to glance at you.
The kind of behavior that made his very large and very sexy brain sound an alarm.
But the final straw came, when he realized you were not paying attention to him.
That was unheard of. Who in their right mind would do that?
He was mid-sentence talking on a matter of high importance (himself), when he noticed.
"Blah blah blah, my jump serve, blah blah, national team—"
"Uh-huh."
"—obviously, I’m going pro, and—"
"Sure, sure."
Oikawa blinked. So this is how it is.
You weren’t even pretending to listen. You were nodding along like he was some random, unimportant side character.
And so he did what any sophisticated, mature person would do,
He tested you.
“You’re knocked up and I’m the father.”
"Mhm."
Oikawa choked on air. Oh, you were so busted.
He slammed his hands on the table, making the trays rattle and several people in the cafeteria jump.
"You're not even listening to me!"
You blinked up at him, vaguely confused. "Huh?"
He narrowed his eyes. "I just told you I got you pregnant, and you agreed. Is this how you treat your baby daddy?"
You groaned, setting your phone down. "Oikawa, what the hell is wrong with you?"
"Oh, I don’t know! Maybe the fact that you’ve been acting super shady lately? Always texting, always sneaking off. You’ve barely even insulted me today, and frankly, I feel unloved."
You rolled your eyes, exhilarated, standing up, "You’re ridiculous."
"And you are hiding something!" Oikawa accused, pointing at you like he was a judge sentencing you to life in prison.
You ignored him, walking away with your phone pressed to your ear.
That was when he heard it.
"Sure, after school works. I’ll meet you then."
Oikawa’s entire body snapped to attention. After school? You had plans? Secret plans?
Something deep in his chest twisted. A very manly emotion (which was definitely not jealousy) clawed up his throat.
His brain scrambled for logical explanations.
Maybe you had a secret hobby. Maybe you were running an underground fight club, summoning demons in a Walmart parking lot, or dropping acid with the town’s most questionable philosophers.
Or you were cheating,
On Iwaizumi,
On him, on your entire friendship.
And so, as a totally sane and rational person, Oikawa did the only logical thing.
He followed you after school.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
He was not an idiot. (That was debatable, Iwaizumi would say, but who asked for his opinion.)
He knew that if he was going to follow you, he needed to blend in. Which was why he came prepared with a foolproof disguise;
A black hoodie that he definitely did not steal from Iwaizumi.
Sunglasses, ugly, purchased at a konbini for 500 yen.
And a beanie, because that’s what spies wear.
It was the perfect disguise. He looked inconspicuous, he looked mysterious, he looked–
"Mommy, why is that man dressed like a pervert?"
Oikawa halted on the spot.
A small girl clutched her mother’s hand, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.
The mother took one look at his all-black outfit, oversized sunglasses, and suspicious stance behind a vending machine, and immediately dragged her child away.
Oikawa scowled, pulling his hoodie lower. "Unbelievable. Even children don’t recognize greatness when they see it."
Shaking off the very minor humiliation, he turned his attention back to you.
And that was when he really paid attention to it, and his brain ceased to function.
You were dressed up.
This was you we were talking about. You, whose skirt length could be used as a ruler standard. You, who followed dress regulations with the kind of dedication that made teachers sleep easy at night. You, who he had never seen in anything outside of “strictly abiding by the student handbook.”
But right now, you were in a dress. A real one, one that clung in very unfair places, that caught the afternoon light just right. He exhaled sharply, suddenly very aware of the heat creeping up his neck.
He had never seen you like this, not once. And even worse–
Who the hell were you all dolled-up for?!
His eyes snapped back to you, analyzing every detail.
You were definitely wearing a sundress. One that accentuated every part of your body, hugged it closely, the curve of your waist, swayed with every step you–
He shook his head aggressively.
No. Focus. Mission.
You checked your phone, smiled, and kept walking.
Oikawa gritted his teeth. This was becoming personal.
You walked ahead, completely unaware of a dumbass sulking behind you.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───30 Minutes into the worst mission of his life, dodging street signs, so far he had:
- Tripped over a curb and played it off like he was stretching.
- Ducked behind old ladies.
- Accidentally fell into a flower display, knocking over three bouquets and earning a loud scolding from the florist.
(“You break it, you buy it!”)
(“Do I look like I need roses right now, lady?!”)
So far though, you were roaming around by yourself, shuffling through streets. He wondered for a hot minute if you were mildly schizophrenic and the phone call was just you talking to yourself.
That was before you turned to a corner and he saw who you were meeting.
Oikawa felt his body go limp. He took off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes agressively to make sure he wasn't being tricked.
When he realized he indeed wasn't, his heart stopped and his entire world came crashing down.
Because standing there, waiting with his stupid broad shoulders, his stupid blank face, and his stupid 'I gargle gravel and call it a morning routine' energy was;
Ushijima Wakatoshi.
His hands came up to his mouth to contain the very real, very manly scream threatening to explode from his throat.
What in the ever fucking fuck to have ever fucked is this fuckery?
You were meeting Ushijima?!?
You were meeting Ushijima....
You were meeting Ushijima.
Oikawa felt physically ill. Was this a date? Was the whole deal between you and him a fluke? Were you into that barnyard demon? Was this some cruel punishment for all his sins?
You were consorting with the enemy. Oikawa felt a deep, soul-crushing betrayal settle into his bones. The tightness in his chest turned into something ugly and sharp, and he hated it.
Despite every logical instinct screaming at him to run, he crouched behind a trash can, adjusting his sunglasses.
He's not giving up now. Definitely not after seeing who you're meeting with behind his back.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
