Archive of Our Own

The shot rang out, echoing ceaselessly across the dirt. Perhaps it would have been more menacing, had it not been followed by the dull ring of the crumpled tin can target, rolling across dry rock. 

Iwaizumi watched as Oikawa made his way over to the fatally wounded metal and set it back up against the barrel. Within moments, he was back in position, hollowly cocking his gun. 

"That was stupid, you know." 

Oikawa let off a shot, dinging off of the rim and ricocheting into the ground.

From his distance, Iwaizumi could see the way Oikawa's jaw set on edge. He let out a frustrated huff, his nose creased where it met the furrow of his eyebrows. 

It would have been cute, under different circumstances. 

"Everyone does stupid things every once in a while, Iwa-chan." 

Oikawa pretended not to keep an eye on Iwaizumi as he stepped off of his horse and approached, his cool gaze glancing instead at the barrel of his gun as though it had been the cause of the runaway aim. Iwaizumi watched as he methodically wiped the rust-coloured dust from the clean white grip, adjusted his stance, and continued. 

Iwaizumi leaned against what must have once been an old fence, before abandonment and time had sunk their teeth into it. Luckily, it held under his weight. 

"'Course," he said lightly, watching as Oikawa set up another target (a pack of matches, mostly empty), "but usually they try to avoid it. It's been a while since I've seen someone so intent on making a mistake ."

Oikawa sauntered back over to the other side of the makeshift shooting range, releasing whatever tension he could from the long line of his back as he took aim once more. 

He let out a deep exhale. 

"You're overreacting." 

Oikawa was known for his sharpshooting, though perhaps his prowess had been over-exaggerated. Once, Iwaizumi had been told of a colourful rumor that had been circling around, with a woman claiming she'd seen Oikawa shoot a fly before it could land on the ass of a horse, without the horse batting a big, glassy eye.

Oikawa lined himself up with the pack of matches, focused, and squeezed the trigger. 

Oikawa had thrived off of that praise for a week, walking around with an undeserved swagger that had earned him a punch in the lip. However, Iwaizumi couldn't judge. It would have been an incredible feat, if any of it were true.

The pack of matches blew over to the side, the wind from the bullet blowing them over with considerably less force than the way the bullet lodged itself in the dirt, a few feet behind the target, with a cloud of dust.

Maybe Oikawa had aimed for the horse, and missed.

"You have a death wish." 

Oikawa spat onto the dirt. 

"I haven't died yet."

The afternoon had long settled into evening, the endless blue fading away into a golden grey, reaching across the endless dirt like a blanket. The wind had picked up only a few hours before, whirling around the top layer of dust like a warm cloud, crawling across the rock. 

Oikawa's appearance never seemed to suffer from the dust. It settled on his skin as though it belonged there, wrapping around confoundingly pale forearms where his shirt had been rolled up, up his neck, and across his face. On Iwaizumi, it was dirt, plain and simple. On Oikawa, it was simply something that added to his charm, like paint across an already fascinating canvas. 

Not that Iwaizumi would ever tell him that. 

As the light fell closer to the horizon, fading into the normal copper-orange that they'd all grown so used to, the silver of Oikawa's gun warmed to a golden shine. The light flickered against the curves of the barrel as his hands moved alongside his careful breaths. 

Oikawa shifted his focus to a soup can on top of the next barrel, crumpled and rusted, with a faded white label in the center, advertising something that had once been no doubt still unappealing. 

Iwaizumi's gaze moved from the target to the marksman. 

Oikawa had taken off his jacket, folded it over their gear, by their horses. His shirt stuck to his back from the heat of the sun, and he'd rolled his pants up above the line of his boots, in a vain attempt to cool himself down. It wouldn't be long until the desert would betray its own nature, the dark coming alongside a chill that would more than compensate for the afternoon heat, but until then, heat clung to passerbys like a layer of film.

Iwaizumi could follow the gold of Oikawa's eyes as they focused on the label itself; the way his shoulders flexed as he raised the pistol, squeezing the trigger and releasing the bullet alongside a calculated breath. 

The can crumpled in on itself, and flew back a few yards. 

Iwaizumi whistled. 

"That's a waste of bullets," he drawled, as Oikawa walked over to pluck the can up off of the ground. 

Oikawa chuckled. "I think it evens out, in the long run." 

"How so?" 

The can had crumpled satisfyingly, curled in towards the middle where the bullet had eaten through it, sharp where it broke away. Iwaizumi could make out the curl of the metal around the flickering label, a hole right through the center of the painted circle. A bullseye. 

"The better you are at shooting, the less bullets you'll need to shoot when it comes down to it," Oikawa explained, setting the box of bullets down on the fence beside Iwaizumi's hip, propping the gun open to reload. "And, a bullet wasted on a tin can is less important than a bullet wasted in the dirt when you're in the heat of the moment. "

Iwaizumi huffed. 

"You're being dramatic."

Oikawa shot him a look, more warmth than venom, and raised a well groomed eyebrow. "Coming from Mr. you have a death wish, I'll take it as a compliment." 

"You do," Iwaizumi argued, watching as Oikawa set his teeth on edge as he set the pistol back in place.

"I do not."

"You challenged Karasuno to a quick draw."

Oikawa sucked in a breath through his teeth. 

They hadn't talked about it since they'd ridden away from the confrontation, moments after Kageyama's hand had lingered a little too close to his holster to let anyone sit comfortably. 

If Oikawa had been paying attention, he would've noticed that Kageyama hadn't been the only one unsettled by their presence. As they'd sauntered into the saloon -- Oikawa had sauntered, Iwaizumi had trailed after him -- Iwaizumi had lost count of the hands that had hovered at hips, ready to take the dark swede hat clean off of Oikawa's artfully messy hair, taking a shortcut through grey matter. 

Oikawa's voice had been the only thing louder than the sound of thudding heartbeats, and the sound of boots against worn floorboards as he approached the drink counter. He hadn't been saying anything meaningful, but everyone had ceased their chatter the moment he'd walked in, and Iwaizumi was certain it had taken long after they were gone for it to resume. 

If Kageyama hadn't asked him to state his business, Iwaizumi could've seen Oikawa ordering a drink, smirking at Sawamura as he asked for a whiskey he wouldn't have had time to drink. 

Instead, he'd leaned back on his heels and toyed with his old protegé, warm brown eyes turned cold and cruel. The only sharper gaze could be found across the room, a short, fiery-haired boy who couldn't be much older than the itty bitty blonde waitress who'd squeaked as Iwaizumi had walked by, with similar golden brown eyes burning holes in the back of Oikawa's head, before flickering back, concerned, to Kageyama.

Oikawa had come to play with his food before eating it. He'd raised Kageyama's -- Karasuno's -- hackles, with vague threats and an unsettling ease. He'd walked into their home and threatened one of their men, and he'd done it without hesitation. 

The fact that they were here, hours later, unscathed, was nothing short of a miracle. 

"I challenged Tobio-chan," Oikawa said casually, as though it were an everyday occurrence. For the first time in the conversation, he turned to meet Iwaizumi's eyes. 

"That's challenging Karasuno, and you know it."

They'd both seen the way the saloon had darkened the moment Oikawa's loaded threat had crawled past pretty lips. For a moment, Iwaizumi had wondered if Kageyama wouldn't be given the chance to go after Oikawa, given the way Sugawara's eyes had narrowed from behind the bar, or the way the redhead's hands had more firmly gripped the sides of two small pistols nearly hidden away under his jacket. Even Ukai's attention had been drawn from the back room, though he had settled more securely on Iwaizumi, eyes flickering down to see what Oikawa's guard dog had carried into his saloon. 

You couldn't challenge one of them without challenging the others. It was almost admirable. 

"Quick draws are between two people, Iwa-chan," Oikawa defended, nonchalantly. 

Iwaizumi sighed. "They're more than that."

Oikawa leaned back against the fence, looking back over to the collection of mutilated tin cans. 

"Either he shoots me, or I shoot him. Two people." 

Iwaizumi watched as he wiped the dust from his hands, and tucked his gun back at his side. 

"If you shoot him, Hinata challenges you. If you shoot Hinata, someone else'll take his place."

"Like bugs ," Oikawa teased. 

"Bugs that'll kill you in a heartbeat if you touch one of 'em." 

Oikawa's expression flickered. 

It wouldn't be the first time his mouth had run on ahead of him like a spooked horse. Oikawa's tongue was sharper than a knife, but faster than his brain, which was saying something. He got himself into trouble, and Iwaizumi got him out. 

Sometimes, however, it wasn't that simple. 

"And," Iwaizumi continued, "this is all assuming that Kageyama won't shoot you first."

Oikawa smiled, showing a row of pretty white shark teeth, and gestured to the cans. "Hence, the practice."

Iwaizumi's eyes settled on the untouched matchbox. Oikawa made a point to ignore it.

"He's a better shot than you."

Oikawa's gaze sharpened, turning to face Iwaizumi as though he'd been slapped. Iwaizumi watched a reaction die on his lips. 

Instead, a pout settled atop his face like a mask. "I didn't think you'd resort to being mean to keep me away from this fight, Hajime," his voice had softened to cruel, honey-sweet sarcasm, "I know you don't mean it, but it stings a little." 

Iwaizumi watched as the setting sun lay across an already darkened face, and pushed forward. 

"You didn't make anything official," he said, his voice casual. "You made a threat, not a promise."

Oikawa scraped his boot across the rock idly. "What's the difference?"

"You can back out of a threat with no repercussions." Oikawa gave a stunted laugh. " Fewer repercussions." 

Oikawa lifted his hat from mildly sweat-damp hair, and hung it next to him on the fencepost. Iwaizumi traced the motion of Oikawa's hand as it pushed smooth waves of chestnut hair away from his forehead, exposing a frustrated knit of his eyebrows. 

Iwaizumi understood the purpose of Oikawa's threats. He knew better than anyone how Kageyama's very existence threatened to test his resolve, each passing bringing another layer of coal to burn in Oikawa's stomach. Iwaizumi would be lying if he said he didn't feel the same, if he said he hadn't been equally affected by Karasuno's uncanny ability to crawl under your skin. 

Like bugs , Oikawa had said. Iwaizumi knew how satisfying it would be to crush one of them under the heel of his boot.

"I want to fight him," Oikawa breathed. 

Kageyama wouldn't be the first person to peer down the barrel of Oikawa's pistol, and with any luck, he wouldn't be the last. Oikawa picked fights carefully, but that didn't mean he was reluctant to engage when he felt he could benefit. 

But this was different. 

"I know." 

"I'll win. " 

Iwaizumi sighed. 

At the right moment, you can watch the sunset flicker from orange to purple, as though a switch is flipped just over the horizon. It's hard to see it, hard to notice when it happens, but you can tell it's happened a few moments after the fact, when the shadows casted across freckled skin lose a touch of their warmth. 

Iwaizumi watched as Oikawa's expression changed alongside the sun, his anger simmering down to a cool frustration.

"You think I should back out, right?" He sighed, his arms crossed against his chest. "Leave and never come back. Let him win." 

The fence creaked slightly as Iwaizumi turned himself towards his friend. 

"You can't lose a battle that hasn't started yet." 

Oikawa clicked his tongue behind his teeth, stifling a laugh that grew from his lungs without his permission. "But it has, hasn't it? It's been going on for the last three years, and this is the only way to put a stop to it." 

"But It's not ," Iwaizumi groaned. "We could go anywhere. The minute this is over, if you won, if Karasuno didn't feed you to the crows, you'd leave . You have no reason to be in this town, or anywhere near it. What's the difference in leaving now?" 

Iwaizumi could practically feel the heat beneath Oikawa's skin as the gears in his brain continued to turn, his hand tremorless as it brushed against Iwaizumi's own. Iwaizumi braced himself for some biting retort, for Oikawa to pull his hand away and return to his tin can targets, but neither came. 

"You invitin' me to run away with you, Iwa-chan?" 

Oikawa's smile was soft and hollow, whispers of a tease lurking around the upturned corners of his mouth. 

"Sure," Iwaizumi returned, leaning in ever so slightly, to more securely cover Oikawa's hand with his own, "if it means you'll run away. " 

Oikawa let out a dramatic sigh, and pulled away. "You take the romance out of everything, Iwa-chan." 

Iwaizumi grabbed the bullets off of the fence and tucked them in amongst the rest of their gear. "I'll be as romantic as you want when your life isn't in danger." 

Oikawa kicked the can and watched as it thudded unsatisfyingly against the barrel. The last spot of sunlight caught on the silver shrapnel that curled away from the back of the can, and glinted brightly in the sand. 

"I'll always be in danger."

The wind picked up for a moment, and Iwaizumi listened to the way it sang across the earth.

"From things I can protect you from," he eventually sighed. "I can't protect you from your own stupidity."

Oikawa hummed as he watched the horses' tails fight against the sand, threatening to jostle the packages that they'd strapped onto the saddle only a few days prior. "You'll try."

The wind swept Oikawa's hair away from his face, revealing the warm stare of his golden-brown eyes.

Iwaizumi clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Of course I'll try."

For the first time all day, the breeze caught under Iwaizumi's jacket and threatened to send a chill down his spine. In an hour or so, the sun would set completely, leaving them to fend for themselves amongst the cool night air.

That is, of course, unless they left for the next town over, and stayed in some low-cost hotel, where there were straw mattresses, blankets, and a roof over their heads. 

"It's getting dark," Iwaizumi nodded to the horizon. "We should set up camp if we're staying the night."

Oikawa's voice came questioning from beside his horse, as he strapped his bag closed against the wind. "Are we?"

Iwaizumi tossed Oikawa's hat back at him. "That's not my choice."

Oikawa set the black swede atop his hair and thought for a moment, the air still between them. He nodded. 

"Let's set up camp."

× 

The scrawl of the road lay silent as the hands of the clock steadily pushed forward. 

Kageyama sat patiently outside of the saloon, listening to the sound of the wind as it crawled across the desert, idly keeping an eye on the road, as it crawled past the city into the desert.

This time yesterday, Oikawa's boots had scraped along the saloon floor, his threats hanging in the air like a thick fog around the townspeople. 

Perhaps he'd been bluffing. He'd always been good at that. 

Hinata sat patiently next to him, his knee bouncing as they listened for any sign of company, each click of the clock marking noon's ever present approach. 

"So," Hinata breathed, glancing up at his partner.  "Do you think he'll come?" 

Kageyama opened his mouth to respond.

"Who?" 

Iwaizumi watched as nearly a dozen heads whipped around to face the duo, faces painted with frowns and poorly hidden shock.

Oikawa smiled.

Oikawa rode just ahead of him, black boots pressed against shiny brass stirrups. Iwaizumi trailed a few steps behind him, following him up the long dirt road.

"Expecting a guest?" He cooed, relaxed back in the saddle as he pulled to a halt outside of the saloon. 

Kageyama stared up at him, deep blue eyes dancing between Oikawa's wide smile, and the silver of his trademark pistol, where it hung at his hip.

There was something satisfying in the way they'd reacted; the way the blonde waitress had yelped when they'd pulled out from behind the general store, and the way Ukai's smoke had been stifled by a brief catch in his breath. It appeared that their shortcut through the town had proven to be more useful than Iwaizumi had expected. 

Iwaizumi hadn't missed the way Hinata had pushed back his jacket, exposing the pistols at his sides, eyes wide with surprise. 

Oikawa hadn't missed it either, it appeared. After watching Kageyama glare for a suitable length of time, he'd glanced over at the redhead, scanning him once over, like a butcher appraising the cows hanging on his long metal hooks. 

" Howdy, " he drawled, straightening his horse along the path. 

"Oikawa," Kageyama spoke coolly. 

Oikawa's smile danced once more over his face as he leaned back in the saddle. 

Iwaizumi was well versed in the way Oikawa moved, in the way his body fell prey to his emotions. He could spot tension in his spine from a mile away, the tap of a toe that would betray a nervous interior. 

At this moment, as Oikawa stared down his competitor, Iwaizumi couldn't find any sign of nerves. 

His hand gripped the reins of his horse loosely, his posture cool and relaxed. His hat sat high over his eyes, revealing the lack of tension in his brow as he scanned over the crowd.

He whistled. 

"This is some turnout, Tobio-chan. And here I was, thinkin' you'd skip out on me." 

Kageyama stood stiff, a few yards away from Oikawa's horse, eyes cool and calculating. 

"I didn't think you'd show up, Oikawa. I didn't think you'd still be in town." 

Oikawa shrugged, shifting the holster at his hip. The silver glinted in the sun as it beat down from above. Iwaizumi watched the shadows of Oikawa's hat move with a startling precision. 

For the first time since he'd waltzed in, his voice darkened. 

"I had unfinished business," he drawled, his tongue catching on the sharp point of his incisor. "I carry through on my threats." 

Iwaizumi felt a dozen sets of eyes dart between him and Oikawa, and listened to the hum of the desert, punctuated only by the occasional crunch of rock beneath his horse as it kept steady. 

Oikawa's horse was nearly as relaxed as he was, its coal-dark pelt shining in the sun. 

Kageyama tilted his hat in detached acknowledgement. "I shouldn't've doubted."

Oikawa relished in the silence. He drank in the sound of the still crowd, fed on the way their eyes clung to him like a magnet. Iwaizumi had never been one to seek out attention for himself, but he could admit that it seemed to scratch a certain itch, Oikawa being the center of the static system. 

"Well, I'm ready when you are!" He laughed, cracking through the quiet like a pick through a sheet of ice. "What are we, ten minutes away from the time I told you? I'll let you get set up then. Pick your second, n' whatnot." 

Kageyama's nose twitched, glancing over at Hinata, who nodded sharply.

" I'm ready," he said, his voice clear and steady. 

Aw. Wasn't that cute?

Oikawa pouted, resting his head on his fist. 

"Well there's no showmanship in that, is there?" He narrowed his eyes at Hinata, who stood steady under his gaze. "I said high noon. Sure, I only said it because that's tradition, but I stick to my traditions." 

His smile didn't reach his eyes. 

Kageyama seemed mostly unphased.

"Isn't waiting worse?" He said, his tone deceptively casual. He sounded almost like Oikawa, except he wasn't half as good of an actor. "It's boring."

Oikawa sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Oh, I don't think I'm all that boring." 

With a sharp turn, his horse took a step an inch too close to Hinata, forcing him to take a step backwards. Iwaizumi watched as Kageyama's teeth set on edge, his eyes leaving Oikawa to glance at Hinata for the second time since they'd shown up. 

"Is this the new crow I've heard so much about?" Oikawa chuckled, no doubt noticing the same thing. "He's smaller than I'd expected. Sure you want him to be your second?" 

"I trust him," Kageyama said, his voice low. If Iwaizumi hadn't known any better, he'd say Kageyama had moved an inch closer to Oikawa, putting space between the intruder and the little red crow. 

Oikawa shot a teasing glance over to Iwaizumi. "Mm," he smirked, "he looks trustworthy."

Kageyama tilted the wide white brim of hia hat up to meet Oikawa's eyes, the curl of his lip visible even from Iwaizumi's vantage point.

"You're stalling, Oikawa. You nervous?"

Oikawa gave an affronted gasp, placing his hand over his heart. Iwaizumi snorted.

"I'm making conversation, Tobio-chan . But fine , you wanna get started early, let's get a wiggle on."

With a smooth motion, Oikawa swooped down off of his horse, boots crunching in the gravel. He nodded once to Iwaizumi, who'd followed suit.

"Hajime's my second."

"I guessed."

Oikawa clicked his tongue. "Too bad. I hate being predictable."

Oikawa tossed his jacket over his saddle, revealing the long strap of his holster, curling around his hips. The left holster was notably empty, holding a reservation for the gun that had once partnered the one gracing his right hip. 

Years ago, Kageyama had been the one to mark the end of that pistol. It had been an accident while he'd still been travelling with the rest of Oikawa's crew; the result of a few too many drinks and a solid convincing from Hanamaki and Matsukawa. 

Kageyama had bought Oikawa a new gun, but it hadn't been quite right. Luckily, Oikawa had forgiven him. Probably.

If Kageyama noticed the emptiness of the left holster, he had the decency to keep his mouth shut. 

Oikawa let out a deep breath, and leaned back on his haunches. 

"Before we do all this, I want to clarify one part of our arrangement ," he said, sharply pronouncing the final T. 

"It's not that complicated," Kageyama huffed. "I shoot you, our arrangement ends."

Iwaizumi watched Oikawa's smile twitch slightly, saw a flicker in his deep brown eyes. "No no, see," he paused, no doubt for dramatic effect, "I want to discuss what happens when I shoot you . 

"You won't," Kageyama said sharply.

"I'll sure as hell try," Oikawa responded.

Iwaizumi caught a glimpse of two narrow brown eyes, under a mop of wild orange hair. He met Hinata's stare casually, waiting for him to turn away. 

"If I shoot you, it ends," Oikawa continued. 

Kageyama's brow furrowed. "That's... how it works."

Oikawa lifted a finger, pointing at Kageyama for emphasis. " Ah, see, that's how it should work." He took a step closer to his opponent, and Iwaizumi felt the air around them stiffen. "My quarrel is with you, and this'll resolve it. If everything is resolved, I expect your friends not to shoot me."

"Oh?" Kageyama prompted. 

"If I shoot you ," Oikawa gestured fluidly towards the dark feathered crow, "I get to ride out of here a satisfied man. If you shoot me ," he gestured to himself, fingers splayed out comically across his chest, I'll have Iwa-chan take me somewhere my blood won't stain your streets. Those are the options. That's all. Nothing more after this."

Kageyama thought for longer than Iwaizumi would have thought necessary, then nodded. "Fine."

"Fine?" Oikawa tested, "You sure? If the rest of your team can't abide by those rules, you should walk away right now."

Kageyama smiled, his face falling dark. 

"Is that what you're looking for, Oikawa? I'm not walking away from this. If you're afraid, you're in my town. Feel free to leave." 

Oikawa let the threat settle in the air for a moment, feeling the heavy weight of the air as it settled around his shoulders. 

He grinned. 

"As long as we agree, I see no reason why we have to prolong this argument."

Oikawa looked up to the clock tower, which stood tall beside them, its face glancing down at the townspeople. 

Oikawa strode over to the far side of the road, about twenty paces from where his foe stood with his second. Iwaizumi followed him, tugging their horses off to the side. 

"I hope you're ready, Tobio-chan," he said, his voice low and melodic. "We're a minute away from high noon."

×

Approximately 14 hours before, Oikawa had sat just outside their tent, staring up at the stars. 

Iwaizumi had joined him for a moment, watching as the paint speckles crawled across the night sky, infinitely long, and uncountable. 

Maybe Iwaizumi hadn't meant to ask it out loud, but the question had crept up his throat without permission, bursting into the cool air.

"Does Kageyama really deserve to die?" 

Iwaizumi had watched as the stars dimmed in Oikawa's eyes. 

"He's made his choices," he'd said softly, tilting his head. Iwaizumi could imagine the stripes of the galaxy as the stars swam in front of his vision, over the mountains in the distance. "I've made mine." 

Iwaizumi leaned back on his hands.

"But will you really kill him? When it comes down to it?"

×

Oikawa's eyes flickered to the hands of the clocktower, climbing steadily to their peak. 

The air lay hot in Iwaizumi's lungs, his throat dry as though the dirt had settled atop his tongue. He could feel the wire-tight tension in his muscles, his eyes stiff on Oikawa as he turned his gaze once more towards their opponent. 

If Iwaizumi had looked, he would have seen Hinata in the same position; his heels dug into the dirt as if it would keep him from running, keep him from drawing his own guns when the bell finally rang. 

Instead, however, Iwaizumi couldn't tear his gaze from Oikawa. The wind had caught the back of his jacket, loosened a stray curl from under his hat. Iwaizumi could feel the pull of Oikawa's arm where it lingered at his side, next to his holster, as if it were his own. 

Glacially, the hand reached the peak of the clock. 

Iwaizumi had hardly heard the sound of the bell. 

×

Oikawa had sighed.

"No," he'd breathed, "I don't think I would."

×

In a moment, two shots rang out, echoing ceaselessly across the dirt. 

" Kageyama!" 

" Tooru!" 

×

The lantern light flickered warmly over Oikawa's face. Iwaizumi watched as the shadows leapt alongside the flame, his nose pressed against the nape of Oikawa's neck. 

Iwaizumi's arm wrapped loosely around Oikawa's waist, as though he were one of the many unnecessary blankets that shielded him from the cold. His hand pressed against Oikawa's side to feel the rise and fall of his chest. 

Iwaizumi felt the stuttering breath before Oikawa spoke. 

"You don't have to worry about me all the time, you know?" He said softly. "I can take care of myself."

Iwaizumi hid his expression against Oikawa's skin, and sighed. 

"It's shit like this that makes me think you can't take care of yourself." 

Oikawa set his hand over Iwaizumi's. 

"Relax, Hajime," he breathed. "I'll be fine." 

Iwaizumi brushed his lips behind Oikawa's ear, tickling the soft curl of his hair. 

"You better be."

× 

In a single moment, two bodies crumpled to the ground, their partners following quickly behind them. 

Oikawa had dropped like a doll, his leg knocked out from under him. He caught himself weakly as his chest hit the dirt, thudding against rock and knocking his breath swiftly out of his lungs. 

Hitting the ground roughly, Iwaizumi turned Oikawa onto his back, careful not to jostle where the bullet had lodged just above his knee. 

From across the dirt, Kageyama lay in a similar position. 

"Are you satisfied? " Sugawara hissed, kneeling beside him, copper eyes narrow with rage. 

The bullet had entered his arm above the bend of his elbow, clean through what had once been muscle. Kageyama fought to keep himself upright, a watery groan emerging loud enough to be heard from down the road. 

Hinata had collapsed quickly at his side, hands dancing across where Sugawara had already begun to apply pressure, Kageyama's blood clinging to the hands that frantically searched for something to tie the wound. 

Iwaizumi had done the same thing, torn off a strip of his jacket to wrap around Oikawa's thigh. He'd pulled the gun from Oikawa's hands and settled them against the wound, pressing them down with his left hand. 

His right hand lifted the gun to face Kageyama, who looked towards the pair of them with steely blue eyes. 

Hinata's gaze burned from across the dirt. His hands came up startlingly red where they pressed against Kageyama's arm, slick and dark as thin blood painted down his forearms, and across the front of his shirt. 

Iwaizumi knew his hands were the same. He knew that he was clutching the clean white grip of Oikawa's gun with sticky red fingers, but he couldn't bring himself to look.

Oikawa curled towards the silver haired  barkeep and smiled, an inch too wide and a twitch too cruel. 

" I am, " he breathed, his eyes rolling closed. 

Oikawa's voice could barely be heard above the white noise that pounded in Iwaizumi's ears. 

He's satisfied, logic whispered. 

It's his leg, if you get him to a doctor soon, he'll be fine, it continued. 

The thoughts were drowned out instead by a repeating loop, beating alongside his heart. 

Kageyama shot Oikawa.

Iwaizumi's lungs burned with each breath as he watched Hinata pull the offending gun from Kageyama's limp grip, and aim it up to match Iwaizumi's own stance. 

"Then leave. That was the deal." 

The road seemed still, static current lingering at the edge of everyone's fingers, watching as the tiny crow aimed his sights at Iwaizumi, who remained silent. Iwaizumi hadn't done anything to warrant his brains dashed across the road, not yet, but their guns both seemed to hover in front of them, waiting for the first move.

Quick draws are between two people, Iwa-chan. Either I shoot him, or he shoots me. 

Iwaizumi cursed. 

It's more than that. 

" That was the deal, Iwaizumi ," Hinata spat, wide eyes filled to the brim with anger and fear, emotions that seemed too large for someone that young. 

Though, Iwaizumi supposed, he wasn't any younger than Kageyama, whose angry eyes valiantly attempted to focus on his rival draped across Iwaizumi's lap.

Hinata didn't look like the type to kill anyone, not really. You could tell in the way a person walked, in the way their hands stood steady as they held a gun to face their opponent, unwavering in their choices. 

Hinata shook where he clutched Kageyama's arm, but his right arm was as still as a stone. He hadn't killed anyone before, Iwaizumi could say that for certain, but at that moment, he knew Kageyama's second would fulfill his duty if Iwaizumi managed to take things a step too far.

Iwaizumi felt the stare of shotgun eyes aimed at the back of his head. Through the window of the saloon, it would be difficult to be accurate, but with a shotgun like the one Ukai was holding? You didn't have to be accurate. Maybe Hinata wouldn't be the first to shoot. 

He felt Oikawa chuckle atop his lap, golden brown eyes surprisingly clear. Iwaizumi felt a hand cling to the sleeve of his shirt, tugging weakly at the arm that held the pistol.

"I'm satisfied , Hajime." 

A few moments passed. 

He lowered his gun. 

" Get out, " Hinata snarled from where he curled over Kageyama, whose arm still lay limp atop his chest. His gun dropped beside the pair of them, his hands occupied in an attempt at pressure against the wound Oikawa had afflicted.

Oikawa's face still burned with a cruel gratification as Iwaizumi pulled him up onto his horse, his leg useless where it lay over the saddle. 

It wasn't until Kageyama was well in the distance that Iwaizumi felt Oikawa slump back against his chest. 

×

Later that night, after Iwaizumi had found a doctor willing to tug the bullet out from Oikawa's thigh, Iwaizumi managed to gather enough change to spend a night at an inn. Luckily, it was run by two women who were surprisingly unfazed by Oikawa's limp and the blood painted across Iwaizumi's shirt. 

Now, Iwaizumi sat at the foot of the old wooden chair, wrapping a clean bandage around the wound just tight enough to be uncomfortable. He ran his calloused fingers along the edge of the fabric, wiping away the dried blood with a washcloth he'd regrettably borrowed from their hosts, knowing full well the stains would linger on indefinitely. 

Oikawa had been quiet for much of the experience. He'd bit down obediently on a strip of leather as the doctor had removed the luckily intact bullet from his muscle, nails digging into Iwaizumi's forearm as he tried to choke back his groans. 

Once the doctor had stitched him up and been compensated for his work, Oikawa and Iwaizumi had found themselves alone. Iwaizumi had nearly carried Oikawa to their hotel room, listening carefully to each sharp inhale that Oikawa had tried to bury. 

It wasn't until after they'd closed their hotel door that he'd finally spoken.

His words were muted, spoken into Iwaizumi's shoulder as he helped him stand onto his good leg. 

"I didn't miss, you know." 

Iwaizumi didn't meet his eyes, focused instead on the way Oikawa clung, unsteady, onto the back of his already ruined shirt, to keep from toppling over. 

"I didn't- I wasn't gonna kill him. I hit him right where I wanted to."

Iwaizumi wrapped an arm around Oikawa's waist, guiding him to bed. Oikawa gingerly sat at the edge of the mattress, still clinging to the hem of Iwaizumi's shirt to keep him upright.

"He didn't have the same reservations," Iwaizumi sighed, running a gentle thumb over Oikawa's wrist, before pulling him away. "Kageyama showed up to kill you."

He began to unbutton his shirt, still tacky with blood -- Oikawa's blood. 

"But I hit him first." 

"He shot you, Tooru. " 

"And I shot him !"

Oikawa sat in the middle of the bed, and Iwaizumi took a moment to look at him, really look at him. 

He was by no means a small man, but in the middle of the bed, eyes bleary with pain and exhaustion, he looked… small. Blood still lay drying in a stray lock of chestnut hair, and the sleeves of Oikawa's shirt were still stained reddish-brown as the blood dried into the fabric. 

" I shot him, " he repeated, breathlessly. "In his right arm, just above the elbow."

Iwaizumi furrowed his brow. 

"You meant to shoot him there?" he asked, slowly. Oikawa nodded ferociously. "Why?" 

Oikawa's uncertain expression faded away into his ever so comfortable smirk. 

"His right arm, Hajime." 

The pieces clicked together. 

This, all of this, was about shooting. It was about the way Kageyama had shown Oikawa up, brought his little orange sidekick to beat him at Oikawa's own game. 

It was all about Oikawa's pride. 

And Kageyama's shooting arm.

Oikawa had aimed just a little too far left. He'd aimed not at Kageyama's chest, not at his shoulder, his arm. While the arm had been swinging up to shoot him. 

It would have been impressive if it hadn't been mind-numbingly stupid. 

"He shot to kill." 

Oikawa grinned. 

"He missed. "

Oikawa didn't pretend to hide his sweeping gaze as Iwaizumi tossed his shirt off to the side, absentmindedly admiring Iwaizumi's chest. 

"He shot my leg," he said casually, as Iwaizumi made his way over to the washbasin. "I'll admit, I had hoped I'd stop him before he could shoot, but this is better than it could have been." He let out a sigh too contented to have come from a man who'd been bleeding out only a few hours earlier, and looked up once more to meet Iwaizumi's eyes

Iwaizumi huffed, and began to chip away at the dried blood that had seeped through his shirt, and up the line of his forearms. Oikawa hummed appreciatively. 

"You look good with a little bit of blood on you, Hajime," he teased, as he carefully tucked himself under the covers.

Iwaizumi glared up at him. 

"He could've killed you, Tooru," he said quietly, as Oikawa's head hit the pillow. 

Oikawa let out a deep breath. 

"He didn't." 

After a few moments, Iwaizumi crawled in beside him, and Oikawa settled comfortably against his chest. 

If Iwaizumi didn't look down, if he avoided glancing at the pink water of the washbasin, or the tear in his shirt where he'd ripped off a tourniquet, it would have been startlingly normal. 

Iwaizumi listened to the sound of Oikawa's breathing as it slowed, exhaustion finally setting in for the warm sharpshooter. 

Iwaizumi spent the next few hours listening, feeling Oikawa's heartbeat against his skin for as long as he could. 

Kageyama hadn't killed him. Not today. 

Not yet.

Iwaizumi fell asleep dreaming of copper-red sunsets reflecting off of a silver pistol, and golden-brown eyes.