Chapter Text
It seems fitting that even on a walk to nowhere, he ends up in the same district as the Kamei Arena. Volleyball would always follow him no matter where he goes.
“Hey, watch out, Mister!”
The ball is just a blur, spinning green and red through the air right at him. Reflexes kick in and Oikawa’s palm meets it in one-handed. The ball floats right up, then down into his waiting hands. Under different circumstances, the ball would have been slammed over the net by a spiker. And it would surely have been a point too. The set has been perfect.
“Here,” Oikawa calls out to the boys. He tosses the ball to them.
One of them catches it, and the other grins at him. “You play volleyball too?”
“Yeah,” Oikawa half-smirks back at the kid.
“Who do you play for?”
Oikawa thinks that through for a second. “No one,” he says at length. “What about you guys?”
“Aoba Johsai,” they both say with unmistakeable pride.
What are the odds. And how times have changed. Back when he was a high school volleyball star, all the volleyball kids in school – the whole prefecture really – knew him by sight. Even during his time with Club Atlético, he’d won over the fans easily enough with his skills and let’s be real here, his charms, broken Spanish notwithstanding.
Being back home now feels almost surreal – it is like stepping into his own little time capsule. His memories are still trapped in time, yet the world here has moved on. It seems almost fitting then that when he had returned to Sendai two weeks ago, spring had been slowly but surely deepening into the heat and richness of summer. The transition of seasons mirrored the abrupt turn his life had taken.
The kids are still chattering on about how they hope to play well, and maybe turn professional one day. Damn, kids these days grow up really quickly. Oikawa remembers back in Aoba Johsai when his life goals were beating Shiratorizawa Academy and wiping that smugness off Ushijima’s face. And prove he could do better than those natural prodigies through sheer diligence and drive, despite the disparity in innate talent. He wasn’t yet thinking about going pro at that time.
The kids’s voices are raised as they debated heatedly.
“The Black Jackals are great! You don’t know shit!”
“I know they’re not on the level of Schweiden Adlers!”
“Who?” Oikawa queries. He knows the answer, of course.
“Schweiden Adlers. The Division 1 champions,” the boys explain excitedly. “Maybe one day I can become an amazing setter just like Kageyama Tobio!”
Oikawa pauses. Now that’s a name he hasn’t heard in a while. It’s funny how the mind works. He’s so conditioned to the name that just the merest mention of it brings a whole wave of junior high memories crashing through his mind. The image of that lanky, wide-eyed kid who asked him so innocently to teach him –
Oikawa shuts down that memory before it can take shape. It’s all in the past now. There’s no point dwelling on it. “Yeah,” he agrees. No harm in admitting the truth to a bunch of kids. “He’s a prodigy at the game.”
“You sound like you know him.”
And he does, doesn’t he? Far better than most, too. “Nah, I just watch him on television,” Oikawa says offhandedly, which isn’t far from the truth too. “Good luck, kids,” he finishes, waving a hand as he turns to leave.
Just before he is out of earshot, Oikawa turns back, because he can’t help being a diva sometimes, all right. “Tell your coach Oikawa Tooru says hi, will you?” he calls out as a parting gift to the kids, satisfied when he hears wisps of their surprised voices asking if he is that celebrated volleyball captain in their club history.
There we go. It won’t do to have a bunch of Aoba Johsai kids fanboying over Kageyama Tobio, really. Staring up at the evening sky and humming to himself as he walks, Oikawa marvels at the riot of colours as the sun sets. The sky’s the same everywhere in the world, but it’s still prettier here, back at home. And the sky’s the limit, no?
He may be at crossroads as far as his career is going, but he still has options. He’d not renewed his contract with Club Atlético. There’s been offers from other clubs, some foreign, most of them Japanese.
There’s also the possibility of – well – retiring. His agent had nearly lost her mind at that suggestion. Nearly twenty-four, Oikawa Tooru is supposedly at the peak of his career. Nobody quits in the prime of sporting excellence just like that, his agent had practically bellowed at him. Oikawa had placated her by telling her he was just going through options. But he can’t deny that the option is there. Iwaizumi had once predicted he was the sort who would chase volleyball forever. But they were eighteen then and so young.
He may still chase volleyball forever, while at the same time, pursuing other passions. There’s more to life than just volleyball.
Oikawa’s so wrapped up in his thoughts, he’d practically walked right past him.
“Hey.”
Oikawa hovers in mid-step. He is just wondering if that voice is a figment of his imagination – when a figure unpeels itself from the wall and does a sort of jerky wave at him.
“It’s me.”
It’s him. “Tobio-chan,” slips out of Oikawa’s mouth.
Kageyama Tobio stiffens a little at that faux-affectionate honorific, clearly unused to it. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s been a while.” He is dressed simply in just a shirt and jeans.
“The fuck are you doing here?” Somewhere at the back of Oikawa’s mind, he realises just how uncivilised he sounds. It is not his fault that Kageyama Tobio just effortlessly destroys all the social filters Oikawa has so carefully put in place over the years.
The younger man just looks at him with that strange yet familiar mix of awe, curiosity and discomfort. “Coffee?” he says.
That is not what Oikawa is expecting. In fact, that is the last thing he expects. He’d just been back in Japan for two weeks. He is on what he thinks should be a relaxing stroll along the streets.
“Okay,” Oikawa replies.
++++++++++
Yes. As it turns out, Oikawa Tooru is every bit as flippant and unpredictable as the legend has it. Against his own logic, he’s agreed to the strange suggestion of evening coffee with Kageyama Tobio in a – he looks around wryly – little coffee-shop that is just a smidgen too quiet, too dark, too intimate.
The silence is getting uncomfortable now, goddammit. Tobio hasn’t spoken since they sat down and that was a good five minutes ago. “Were you waiting for me?” Oikawa asks abruptly. Anything to put an end to this uneasy silence.
Tobio shrugs wordlessly. Maybe. Maybe not.
Oikawa considers himself somewhat of an expert reading Tobio’s body language. It’s a skill honed over years of watching the kid display his natural talents every second of volleyball play – while seething in rage at the unfairness of it all. Melodrama was Oikawa’s middle name as a teenager, no doubt.
“Well,” Oikawa snorts, making a grand gesture of crossing his arms before his chest. “Here I am. You planning to just stare at me all night or what?”
“No,” Tobio retorts. “And I’m not staring at you.” In a way, he’s not. He is looking very intensely down at his coffee, jawline tensed.
It’s a nice-looking jawline, Oikawa admits to himself. Yeah, well, attached to a nice-looking face too. Oikawa realises belatedly and suddenly that Kageyama Tobio is a young man now. He’s leanly-muscled, and there’s a sort of unconscious grace to his movements when he isn’t fidgeting. He’s also lost the childhood roundness to his cheeks, accentuating his sharp features. The one thing that has remained the same all this time is Tobio’s eyes. Still dark, piercing and unexpectedly expressive. Tobio may not be conventionally attractive by some standards, but to Oikawa, there are many different types of pretty, and Tobio qualifies as one of them.
“Just come right out and say it, Tobio,” Oikawa sighs eventually, exasperation creeping into his tone. The boy’s grown up but he is still awkward as hell.
“I have – ” Tobio swallows visibly once, twice, before his eyes narrow with startling intensity. “I have a proposal.”
All right, so now that’s two things Oikawa hasn’t expected that night. “That’s beautiful, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa says in that cavalier, sing-song tone that he knows irritates the shit out of Tobio. There is no way he’s letting go of the chance to needle the younger man, especially not one that has presented itself so marvellously. “But aren’t you supposed to meet my parents first before asking for my hand in – ”
Tobio fairly chokes on the coffee he has just sipped. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Shit, I’m disappointed now.”
There is silence yet again.
Then Oikawa begins to snigger. Across the table, Tobio huffs and rolls his eyes, but the beginnings of a dry smile are tugging at his lips. And for a heartbeat, it feels like high school all over again, a time when things were so much simpler and clearer. At length, Tobio seems to steel his resolve. He raises his head and he has that same grim determination in his gaze before a volleyball match.
“I want to make an arrangement with you.” This time around, Tobio’s voice is firm.
An arrangement. How quaint. “What sort? And stop beating around the fucking bush, Tobio.”
Tobio takes a deep breath and looks Oikawa dead in the eyes. “Let’s have sex.”
“Excuse me?” Oikawa says stupidly. Yes, yes, he hears the words, but none of them are sinking into his goddamned brain. Also, is anyone else in this café listening to their conversation? Because this conversation is wild.
“I am proposing an arrangement based on sex. We can negotiate terms and conditions,” Tobio continues, sounding like he’s presenting a science project.
First of all – a few things. To Oikawa, Kageyama Tobio is many things. For example, a brat, an irritatingly-prodigiously-talented volleyball, a kid who was sort of cute when he cried, a usurper, and later, a rival who turned out to be every bit as annoying as Ushijima Wakatoshi, and so on and so forth. But a man? A man who is also into men? A man with needs and desires just like…Every. Normal. Human. Being.
Anyway, the point is, Oikawa has never really thought of Kageyama Tobio as just a guy. A normal person you walk past on the street. And now he’s very much confounded by the realisation that yes, Tobio actually wants him – in that way. The sex way.
“Sex?” Oikawa repeats. He is starting to sound like a demented parrot, god help him.
“Sexual intercourse,” Tobio says slowly, his eyebrows beginning to knit together. He’s looking at Oikawa like he’s a particularly slow child.
“I know what sex is!” Oikawa snaps. He’s always had a pretty good grip on his self-awareness. He is rarely caught off-guard or surprised.
At this point in time, he is floored.
“Are you okay?” Tobio actually looks concerned.
“Am I okay?” Oikawa barks a laugh and it comes out fairly hysterical. He takes several deep breaths. “What – ” his voice is strained. He clears his throat and tries again. “What gave you the idea I’d agree to this? We hate each other, remember?”
“I’m just proposing it. You don’t have to say yes. And I don’t – ” Tobio frowns in almost endearing confusion. “I don’t hate you.” Then, his eyes widen sharply as though he’s been struck by some belated realisation. “Do you still hate me?”
Oikawa mouth opens and closes a couple of times. What does he say to that? Does he still hate Tobio? No, has he ever hated Tobio even? His brain is starting to hurt. Goddamn, he didn’t come all the way back to Japan just to get his life thrown for a loop. He’s supposed to be on a break. “I don’t know,” he says finally, realising it sounds lame, but not knowing what else to say.
Tobio looks dissatisfied by that response. He keeps quiet for a long moment before he ventures carefully, “Is the problem – is it because I’m not a woman?”
It takes several seconds before Oikawa concedes, “No.” His sexuality is not something that he feels the need to justify and he does not care to start. He’s not discerning when it comes to gender and that is all there is to it.
“Are you with someone?” Tobio suddenly looks stricken, like this is a possibility that has just occurred to him. “I should have asked first.”
Yes, Tobio should have, like any normal person would, but it’s a little late for that now. Oikawa actually considers saying yes, if just to escape this madness. But…there’s something about the way that Tobio is looking at him – so serious and earnest – that whatever lie he is planning to conjure up just shrivels and dies in its infancy.
“No,” Oikawa says flatly.
“Then, am I – ” For the first time since raising this subject, a flush begins to creep over Tobio’s cheeks. “Am I not attractive enough for – ”
“That’s not the point,” Oikawa cuts him off. Is this an interrogation or a proposal? Oikawa’s always hated situations that got too much, and this one is getting dangerously close to that.
An attractive face, body, personality isn’t limited to gender, as far as Oikawa’s concerned. He’s batted for both sides, so to speak. That, however, doesn’t mean he’s ever thought about fucking Kageyama Tobio. Well…ok, hang on. Hang on. He might have toyed with the idea in the past before hastily discarding it. He might have also wondered if the intensity of the emotion he felt for Tobio in his youth was some weird tension of the sexual type. And he had entertained the idea of finding out, but life and volleyball just got in the way. He graduated from high school and never really looked back.
The seconds tick by.
Oikawa is so busy sorting out his own thoughts, he doesn’t notice the tension gathering on Tobio’s face. So when Tobio abruptly speaks, Oikawa looks up in startlement.
“I understand,” Tobio says tightly, his lips pressed in a brittle line. His face has gone quite pale with mortification and embarrassment, and he is looking at anything but Oikawa. “I apologise for wasting your time.” He stands up stiffly.
Wait, what? The conversation is over just like that? Oikawa doesn’t remember ending it. Then he sees a strange expression flash across Tobio’s face – not anger or disappointment or anything. He just looks…lost. Oddly, that has a more profound effect on Oikawa than if Tobio had reacted in anger. Oikawa holds up a hand. “Hold on a sec, Tobio – ”
“I’ll pay for the coffee,” Tobio bows his head and moves to stride past the still-seated Oikawa.
Oikawa doesn’t even realise he’s moved, until his hand shoots out and closes on Tobio’s arm. He jerks hard to stop the younger man in his tracks. There was more force than really necessary in that action but that’s the only way to get Tobio’s attention when the boy is in a mood.
“You understand nothing,” his tone is sharp with irritation and perhaps real anger. “Now sit down and we’ll talk.” For years, he’s left behind the memories of junior high and high school volleyball. Who does Tobio think he is, showing up now like a ghost from his past and turning his current world on its head? Nobody drags Oikawa Tooru into a conflict and expects him to back down from it.
For a brief moment, it looks as if Tobio is going to shake him off and leave anyway. Then, the tension seeps out of his shoulders and he sinks back onto his chair. He looks bewildered and suddenly, very young.
Oh boy. Oh fucking boy. “Do you know what you are asking of me, Tobio?” Oikawa picks his words carefully. He needs to know for sure – that this isn’t some imbecilic prank, or some complex of Tobio’s. They’ve not met in years and he’s never really known for sure what the hell truly goes on in Tobio’s head anyway.
“Yes. Sex.”
Fucking hell. Oikawa never thought he’ll hear that word come out of Tobio’s mouth, and now it’s just popping up everywhere. “Goddamned it, Tobio, this isn’t just about sex.” His voice is sailing a little high, and he is vaguely disturbed to see the patrons of the nearest table looking over in distaste.
“I know.”
“I don’t think you do,” Oikawa hisses, forcing his voice down. “People like to say that – ‘it’s just sex’ – like it’s nothing. But it’s not nothing. This will change everything between us – do you get that?”
“There is no ‘us’.”
Now that is unexpected from Tobio. His logic is so simple, yet…so clear? That gives Oikawa pause. There is some truth in that. The two of them may be the most familiar of strangers, after all. Their paths had crossed a long time ago, and then diverged. At this present time, their lives still remain very much separated. Their social circles do not overlap. They are both professional athletes and lead disciplined, clean lifestyles, to Oikawa’s knowledge, at least. Logically, there is much lesser risk of health and emotional hazards if both of them – well – end up as rivals with benefits.
Still, he grills Tobio. “Why not one of your Adlers teammates – or your Karasuno – ”
“I would never. They’re – they’re like brothers to me,” Tobio looks utterly horrified by the idea of fucking any of his teammates.
Wow. Oikawa doesn’t think he’ll ever hear Tobio refer to his teammates as family either. Things have truly changed around here. “You could have easily found someone else. I just got back to Japan. It’s been – what – two weeks? Also, why me?” Oikawa demands. He wants to know.
For some reason, this is the question that really flusters Tobio. He actually squirms in his seat like one of those twitchy fangirls or fanboys just before presenting Oikawa with a heart-shaped muffin or something similarly saccharine.
“I know you.”
“You don’t say.”
“No, I mean,” Tobio explains, exasperated and embarrassed. “I mean, I know you. Since we were kids.” This just may be Tobio’s awkward way of saying that Oikawa is not some sleazy, random hook-up. “Also, you’re not ugly.” Tobio blurts, then looks away, his face really going red now. He is deliberately not looking at Oikawa again.
“Wow, thanks. That’s flattering,” Oikawa begins to laugh. He fucking can’t help it. That is one-hundred-percent Kageyama Tobio’s version of ‘I-think-you’re-hot’. He has no idea exactly when Tobio’s awe-turned-competitiveness morphed into competitiveness-turned-attraction – was it back in high school, or after? – but this is all incredibly mind-bendingly amazing.
He feels like he’s seeing Tobio in a new light. Not as a junior, a rival or even a volleyball player, but a man. One made up of flesh, emotions, with desires and needs. He wonders vaguely just how Tobio would react to a physical touch that has nothing to do with sport, or fight, or flight. Would he blush and fidget the way he is doing now, or would he be vocal and demanding? The curiosity that has started as a flicker is now rapidly burgeoning into a full-on inferno. Oikawa wants to find out exactly what Tobio is like when he isn’t being the Tobio that is presented to the rest of the world.
And once Oikawa’s mind takes a step towards all things carnal and pleasurable, it’s really a headlong plunge.
Well now.
Oikawa’s eyes narrow, and he leans forward into Tobio’s space. His lips lift in a half-smirk. “So,” he says slowly, drawing out each word with purpose. “What are your terms and conditions?”
Tobio’s gaze widens. The flush deepens on his cheeks. He looks like he’s having a very dramatic internal debate, like it’s taking him all his energy not to bolt. And it’s obvious by now he hasn’t really expected Oikawa to agree to the arrangement. “I – you mean you – well – this is only sex. Nothing more.”
“Eh~ So I don’t have to buy you dinner first?” Oikawa begins to chuckle because he can be a bastard like that, suppressing his amusement only when Tobio shoots him a withering glare. “All right, I get it. It’s just sex. We keep it fun, and nothing more.”
“Not where I play volleyball.”
“Oh?” Oikawa’s grin turns sly. “No desecrating the sacred grounds of volleyball?”
Tobio scowls and continues anyway. “Not when I play volleyball.”
Oikawa shrugs. “That’s fine by me.” He knows volleyball is a religion to Tobio. Once upon a time, it was the same for Oikawa. Now…well, Oikawa is still figuring that out.
“What about you?”
Oikawa cocks his head back and thinks. “Everything you said.” This isn’t an everyday sort of situation, is it? He won’t know where to re-draw the boundaries until he’s overstepped a few existing ones. “Oh, don’t fall in love with me, I guess?”
“Same,” Tobio returns archly.
This boy has got a mouth on him, hasn’t he? Oikawa snorts. “Well! Where shall we go have sex?” It’s still surreal, but now that he’s agreed to it, he is into it with a devil-may-care zealousness. You only live once, after all. The good people at the next table are glancing over again in pure disapproval. Talking so loudly about sex in public is frowned upon in polite society, after all. Oikawa flashes them his most winsome and incorrigible smile.
“Wait – what – now?” Tobio sputters in consternation, looking like a scandalised maiden. “Next week is better. After 7pm.”
“What’s the difference? You busy right now?”
“I’m not ready now – I haven’t thought this far!”
Oikawa rolls his eyes. Classic Tobio. ‘Think plan, execute plan’ is probably his usual thought process. Whether or not that plan actually works, and how he is going to have to make changes to get it to work or continue working, are probably too much for his frazzled brain right now.
“All right, next week then. I’ll text you my address.”
“Okay.”
“Okay~”
++++++++++