Chapter Text
Oikawa was going to confess to Haruhi if it was the last thing he did; he had the perfect plan, the perfect timing, the perfect gift… now, all he had to find was his nerve. He nearly kicked himself… why was it so hard? He turned the velvet bag over and over again in his hands, staring at the space center logo as its color shifted under the house lights. He was better than this--this wasn’t his first rodeo. What was the worst that could happen?
Well, she could reject him. And for only the first...no, second time, he faced that very real possibility. He rarely confessed--he got confessed to, not the other way around. When he did, it was usually with something conventional, like a date, or a flower. He never let his space nerd side show to potential partners--he’d only really started to show himself to others once or twice, and once people got a look at the real Oikawa Tooru, they left. There were a couple of exceptions--Iwa-chan was one of them. Haruhi was the other. But she’d never seen him vulnerable like this before, and if he was being honest, he didn’t like it.
It was easy enough to lay the charm on thick to get backstage. The show wouldn’t start for a while now, and Iwa-chan was saving their seats. Oikawa just knew that if he didn’t do it in that moment--if he waited--he would regret it. Haruhi’s dancing had a way of hypnotizing him and peeling back the carefully constructed layers around his core. It made him feel raw. Exposed. Vulnerable. He didn’t like it. So his brilliant idea had really revolved around catching her before her show. Looking back, and considering the number of make-up artists, dancers, stage hands, and costumers running around, it wasn’t one of his better plans.
A child dressed as a toy soldier came barrelling from around the corner, squealing as he was chased by a little girl in a sparkling tutu. He crashed headlong into Oikawa’s legs, nearly sending all three of them to the stage floor. The soldier bowed politely, his calf eyes wide with fear.
“I’m so sorry, sir!”
Oikawa rolled his eyes, patting the boy’s hair; “Quite alright, no harm done. Actually, I was wondering if you could help me.”
“Um… yes!” The boy straightened suddenly, looking around surreptitiously for his friends, but they’d fled.
“No need to be shy,” Oikawa assured with his genial smile. He was usually good with kids. He lowered himself to the boy’s level; maybe the fact that he was so tall was intimidating. “I’m just looking for someone. Do you know Sato Haruhi, by any chance?”
“Haruhi nee-san?” The boy perked up, his eyes going wide and bright. “She’s in the cow’s room*!”
Oikawa blinked owlishly; “Beg pardon?”
“He means the principals’* dressing room,” a middle-aged woman interjected. “Seiji-kun, your mother is looking for you. It’s time for makeup.”
“Yes, sensei.” The boy scurried off to disappear among the crowd while the woman turned a scrutinizing eye on Oikawa. He suddenly felt… very exposed.
“You were looking for Sato-san?”
Oikawa felt the need to straighten his back; for some reason, this woman made him feel like a five-year-old boy, staring down his first coach; “Yes, ma’am.”
“She is preparing for the performance,” the woman responded, her voice flat. She didn’t offer any further elaboration, but then she didn’t exactly say no.
Oikawa suddenly felt desperate; “Please, it will only take me a moment. I just… really need to speak with her. In private.”
The woman was unmoved, her eyes rolling in exasperation; “Does she know you? Because if you’re another so-called ‘admirer’ I will call security.”
Oikawa quirked his eyebrow, making a mental note to ask Haruhi about that later; “We...we go to school together, ma’am.”
There was so much more to it than that, though, and it stung to say it. He couldn’t exactly tell her that he was about to make an utter fool out of himself, declaring his undying love for a girl he’d only known a scant few months… truth was, if anyone asked anything more than the most basic information about Haruhi, he wouldn’t be able to answer. He hadn’t put much effort into getting to know her, and he felt… shallow. Sure, she was beautiful, but to him, she was more than that. She’d… she’d listened. She stayed. He wanted to know more… he wanted to know everything about her.
She saw him--honestly and truly saw him. Only a handful of people in his life had ever done that, and he’d loved even fewer. One of them… Iwaizumi and him weren’t meant to be. It could never work. But Haruhi… she was there. And he did love her--not in the same way he loved Iwa-chan, but she’d carved out a unique place in his heart. So now all he needed was for this woman to tell him where she was, and judging by her suddenly-wide, borderline-terrified eyes, he probably wasn’t going to get it.
“You’re Oikawa-san?”
She’s been talking about me…
He wasn’t sure why that made his breath sieze in his chest, but it was a good feeling. He couldn’t help the wide grin as he nodded a bit too enthusiastically.
Play it cool, Tooru.
“Follow the yellow tape on the floor; it leads right to the principals’ dressing room,” the woman said firmly. “Curtain is in 25 minutes, so I want you out in 15. Clear?”
“Yes, ma’am!” Oikawa said enthusiastically, snapping in a mock salute.
“And Oikawa-san,” she interrupted, giving what might have passed for a smile. “Good luck.”
He nodded, clutching the little bag tighter. He was absolutely not shaking… at least, that’s what he told himself. He wasn’t shaking. He wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t dying inside, hoping to whatever God that would listen that he wouldn’t totally embarrass himself. He followed the line of yellow tape to an indistinct door with Haruhi’s name taped under a yellow star. He took a deep, shuddering breath and knocked. When he heard her call, his hand froze on the knob for a second before he was able to summon what remained of his courage.
His breath caught in his throat when he saw her, cinched tightly into a pale pink costume, bedazzled with dozens of golden beads. A delicate diadem on her dark hair completed the look, and her toe shoes looked brand new. Still, she looked stunning, and her look of shocked happiness sent a fresh rush of adrenaline through his system.
“Oikawa,” she said, replacing the cap on her lipstick tube. “Are you here to see the show?”
“I am,” Oikawa answered. He twisted the bag over and over in his hands, hoping the gift inside didn’t get hopelessly tangled in his fingers. “I um… I wanted to talk to you before you went on.”
“Is something the matter?”
Oikawa must have looked terrified. He felt terrified. He swallowed hard, pulling the velvet bag out of his pocket and focusing hard on her nervously-tapping fingers. Whether or not he was making her nervous, or if she was just nervous about the show, wasn’t totally clear, but he figured there was nothing to do but soldier on.
“No, nothing’s wrong, Haru-chan,” he murmured, rubbing at the back of his head. He took a steadying breath, puffing out his cheeks as he let it out slowly. It was now or never… “I just… I brought you this.”
He handed her the velvet bag, watching as she tipped it into her palm. Her inquisitive expression instantly softened when she saw the pendant he’d brought her. It was a sparkling silver, about the size of a 500 yen coin, and shaped like a 5 pointed star. When her smile turned bright and breathless, he felt a strange surge of satisfaction. He always knew how to please a woman… and yet there was something beautiful about the elated light in her eyes.
“Oikawa, this is beautiful.”
“It’s a star,” he supplied helpfully.
She snorted inelegantly; “I can see that! Jeez!”
“No, I mean turn it over,” he said, flipping the pendant and pointing out the small carving and the serial number. “See, that’s the serial number. This pendant actually represents a real star in the sky. I um… I bought you a star.”
Her breath stopped, her eyes going wide; “Oikawa…”
“I thought,” he began haltingly, picking at a spot on his hand. “I really like you, Haruhi. This is a bit over the top, but this is me. And I’m offering it to you… if you’ll have it. Please, do me the honor of dating me?”
~~~
Oikawa woke in the morning feeling more sore and tired than he could ever remember. He winced with even the slightest movements, his legs felt like overcooked noodles, and his throat had a satisfying tickle from the previous night’s abuse. He felt wrung out and well fucked and languid in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling. He was surrounded by Haruhi and Iwaizumi’s scents, his face pressed into their pillows and feeling their lingering warmth on the bed.
And then he heard Haruhi giggle… all at once, it came rushing back, and he felt sick again.
Oh god, Daddy!
Oikawa’s eyes popped open, trying to dispel the image of Iwa-chan--his Iwa-chan--being so intimate with Haruhi--his Haruhi. How long had that ‘Daddy’ thing been going on? How long had Iwaizumi had a Daddy kink? Did he even have a Daddy kink? Well, obviously one of them did, because not five seconds after she’d said it, Iwaizumi had growled so low in his throat it sounded like a rumble. A few seconds after that, Oikawa felt Iwaziumi’s come drip from Haruhi’s soaked cunt and pool around his balls… so clearly it had done something for him.
Oikawa snapped upright, raking his hands through his tangled hair. He heard it again--Haruhi’s soft little giggle. It came from the kitchen, and it was followed by Iwaizumi’s rough morning rasp. They were making breakfast? They were talking quietly enough that it seemed they weren’t trying to wake him, which was good? Yes, it was good. They were being considerate… and he would have breakfast and coffee right when he woke up! He wouldn’t have to lift a finger… his favorite way of spending a morning. Except…
Except cooking breakfast together? Listening to his stupid music and talking with Haruhi about their plans for the day? Her making fun of how he took his coffee while they did the morning dishes before getting ready together? That was their thing. He wasn’t a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, but he’d come to treasure his morning routine with her. Since Iwaizumi had moved in, the three of them had added a run to their schedule, and it had been nice. Almost domestic. It was something he got to count on, something he could believe would always be there…
And he had to watch it slip through his fingers. He watched it slip as he tiptoed out into the kitchen; he saw Haruhi and Iwaizumi gently bumping hips in time to the quiet music. Iwaizumi was flipping hotcakes--something Iwaizumi so rarely made, but they always tasted like pure, cakey sin--while Haruhi was slicing fruit on the chopping board. They were talking in low tones, their heads bent together… it was a moment just for them, with no room for Oikawa. The peace of their morning would be shattered if he butted his way in…
Haruhi set the knife down to move the blackberries into a mixing bowl, and Iwaizumi took the opportunity to run his fingers up her side in a ticklish motion. Haruhi squealed loudly, dancing away from him. He laughed that gorgeous laugh of his, while she turned back to him with mischief in her eyes. Oikawa knew that look, and he knew Iwaizumi’s retribution would be swift and merciless.
Having grown up with him, Oikawa knew of Iwaizumi’s one ticklish spot on his whole body. It had taken him the better part of eight years to find it, but he knew that all he had to do was poke it, and Iwaizumi was a giggling, squirming mess on the floor. He’d told Haruhi all about it, so he had to watch as something that used to be only for him was shared. Haruhi easily ran her fingers along the spot by his Adonis belt, and down he went in a peal of boyish giggles. He was helpless like this, and Haruhi took advantage, wriggling her fingers over the spot. Iwaizumi kicked like a toddler, trying to dislodge her, and his face screwed up with the effort of not guffawing his great sobs of laughter.
She took mercy on Iwaizumi and was rewarded when he stared up at her with the softest expression Oikawa had ever seen. His eyes crinkled in the corners, and his smile was wide, bright, and toothy. Oikawa so rarely saw that expression, and it was supposed to be for him, God damn it! It was supposed to be him reducing Iwaizumi to a puddle of affectionate goo on the kitchen floor. It was supposed to be him running his hands over Haruhi’s soft thighs… damn it, Haruhi was supposed to be wearing on of his t-shirts, not Iwaizumi’s… He felt sick with envy as he watched her duck her head to kiss him. It wasn’t a heated kiss, or anything overtly passionate. Frankly, he’d seen his parents share similar embraces. But it ached to see. They didn’t acknowledge him. They didn’t even know he was there. They didn’t care…
He was jealous. He was jealous of a relationship he helped create… because he’d had both of them first! But the problem was, he had no idea who he was jealous of.
~~~
Something was wrong. Iwaizumi could see it the moment Oikawa came into the kitchen, his smile as fake and plastic as it had ever been. Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes as he watched Oikawa pluck his coffee cup from Haruhi’s fingers with barely a second glance. He hardly looked at Iwaizumi--just took his hideously-sweet coffee into the other room and plopped onto the sofa with his laptop.
Iwaizumi quirked his brow, sharing a concerned glance with Haruhi; “I made breakfast.”
“Thanks, Iwa-chan, but I’m not very hungry today,” Oikawa said evenly.
“Tooru, you should eat something,” Haruhi pressed. This wasn’t right--Oikawa’s appetite was killer in the mornings, and he would turn into a monster before 10 a.m. if they didn’t feed him something… he usually knew that. He usually didn’t have the energy before coffee to be so fake… or mean.
“What are you, my mom?” Oikawa snapped at Haruhi, his scowl taking any of the usual teasing mirth out of his usual banter. “I already have two parents, Haru-chan. I’m not the one desperately seeking a replacement.”
“Oi!” Iwaizumi growled. “What the fuck?”
Haruhi looked stung, but she buried it quickly. She gave Iwaizumi a thin, tight smile, almost as fake and plastic as Oikawa’s. He had taught her well; “It’s fine, Hajime. He’s just… snappish in the mornings.”
Iwaizumi’s brows furrowed; “Are you sure?”
“She said it was fine, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said flippantly, not looking up from his screen. “Although I do apologize, Haru-chan. That was rude of me.”
“I’ll say!” Iwaizumi growled.
“Let it go, Hajime,” Haruhi warned.
He listened, but he didn’t want to. The more time he spent with them--the two of them--the more he realized they were both precious to him. He wanted to take care of them; he wanted to see them happy. The night before… it was by far the most incredible sex of his life. He’d fallen asleep wrapped around the two most important people he’d ever had--a man he’d been in love with for the majority of his formative years and a girl he’d fallen for like a ton of bricks. He loved them both fiercely; the level of intimacy he achieved with them was nothing short of amazing. The night before… when he’d had them both at his mercy, when he was slowly putting them back together after tearing them apart, it was the first time he’d considered that maybe, just maybe, their relationship could work. It could last. He wouldn’t be left behind, and he wouldn’t tear apart a loving and doting couple. He could be a part of it.
So it hurt to see them at odds. He knew Haruhi and Oikawa fought, sometimes viciously. They were both strong, independent people with their own dreams and ideas and ambitions. They were passionate and outspoken and intelligent, and sometimes that led to the most childish, knock-down screaming matches he’d ever seen. They sometimes left Oikawa seething and quietly obsessing behind a locked door and Haruhi sobbing silently into one of the couch pillows. Usually, they ended up working it out, but something was different.
Something was wrong.
Iwaizumi mulled over what could be bothering him; for a heartstopping second, he was afraid Oikawa was upset about the sex, but that didn’t seem to be the case either. He was infuriatingly neutral most of the day. He didn’t have any further outbursts. Iwaizumi almost thought Oikawa might have been over it.
But then Haruhi left for a brief meeting with her director, and Oikawa didn’t kiss her goodbye. Iwaizumi was sending her off, and he’d never seen her look more upset. She buried her face into Iwaizumi’s neck, and he could hear the soft sniffles that accompanied her tears.
“Hey,” he said softly. He ran his hand over her head, smoothing her hair away from her face. “I’ll figure it out, alright? I’ll talk to him.”
Haruhi nodded wordlessly, pulling her bottom lip through her teeth; “Thanks, Hajime.”
After shooting a quick scowl over his shoulder at the closed bedroom door, Iwaizumi bent for a kiss, gently sucking her lower lip between his teeth. He idly wondered what would have happened if he’d met Haruhi first, if he’d accepted his feelings first, or if he hadn’t been so willing to pretend he didn’t care once Oikawa had started to show interest.
Before he could really linger on those thoughts, she breezed out the door. She’d be back in an hour or so--perfect amount of time to smack some sense into Oikawa. Iwaizumi slammed into the bedroom door, scowling at his best friend.
“What the fuck, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi snarled. “You’re being an extra big shit today; what’s your malfunction?”
“It’s rude to barge into someone else’s bedroom without knocking first,” Oikawa said evenly. He was curled in on himself, clutching a soft Stitch plush doll. Haruhi had gotten it for him on her trip to Tokyo Disney, and Oikawa loved the hell out of that stupid plush.
He usually only held it like that--clutched to his middle with his arms wrapped around it--when he was upset, or had something on his mind. As much as Oikawa liked to believe the facade was impenetrable, Iwaizumi saw right through him. He’d always been able to see right through him. So the fact that whatever was bothering Oikawa wasn’t registering to Iwaizumi unsettled him in a way he wasn’t used to. He softened--the redness around Oikawa’s nails showed he’d been biting his fingers, and he only did that when he was really upset about something.
“Hey,” Iwaizumi said, sliding to sit next to him on the bed. He sank into the deliciously soft mattress, and their combined scents were comforting. Normally, Oikawa changed the sheets after sex… but this time he didn’t. Iwaizumi was confused. “You want to talk about it?”
“Nothing to talk about,” Oikawa muttered.
“There isn’t anything to talk about,” Iwaizumi pressed. “Or you don’t want to talk about it?”
Oikawa stiffened, averting his eyes--oh yeah, there was something on his mind. But for some reason, he was keeping it from Iwaizumi. That alone was enough to make Iwaizumi tense, but he also knew Oikawa well. If he really truly didn’t want to talk about it, then he wouldn’t. Iwaizumi sighed, running his hands through the impossibly soft hair at the base of Oikawa’s skull. Oikawa leaned into the touch, closing his eyes with an almost pained expression. Something pulled tight in Iwaizumi’s chest as he tilted Oikawa’s face towards him. He pressed a soft kiss to Oikawa’s lips, which were chapped and bitten raw. Iwaizumi hated it when he was this anxious… he hated it when there was nothing he could do. He wanted to fix it. He wanted to make it better. But, for once, he didn’t know how.
“Just so you know, anything you need? I’m here,” Iwaizumi murmured, punctuating his words with soft kisses. “Alright?”
Oikawa’s gaze went from soft and unfocused to sharp in the blink of an eye. There was a heat in his eyes that dropped Iwaizumi’s heart into his stomach; “Anything I need?”
“Of-of course,” Iwaizumi replied, feeling the dangerous red stain of a blush creep over his cheeks. “I’m here for you.”
“Good,” Oikawa growled. Growled. Iwaizumi had never heard that sound come out of him, and suddenly the atmosphere shifted.
In a flash of movement that was too quick to follow, Oikawa had Iwaizumi on his back, his slim hips slotted between Iwaizumi’s legs. The obvious line of his arousal ground against Iwaizumi’s perineum, drawing out an embarrassingly high-pitched whine. This was a bad idea… this was bad. This was really bad. There was too much left unsaid… too much tension…
But Oikawa was so strong--deceptively so, given how slim he was--and as loath as Iwaizumi was to admit it, so fucking sexy. His milk-chocolate eyes were darkened with desire, and the smirk he wore hit an intoxicating balance between soft and sexy.
“If you’ll give me anything I need,” Oikawa murmured, leaning forward to curl his tongue around the shell of Iwaizumi’s ear. He shuddered, moaning against Oikawa’s shoulder. This was bad… but Oikawa’s scent was overwhelming him. He needed him… he wanted him so badly. He shouldn’t want him so badly, given what happened the night before… but something primal in him was screaming at him. “Then I need you to make love to me, Iwa-chan.”