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Iwa-chan, what is a Valentine's Day?  

Hajime is so used to Oikawa's voice, he doesn't even falter as he taps his card against the card reader, nodding at the cashier as he grabs the bag and heads toward the exit. It's a man-made holiday meant to make people feel single and spend money, Hajime responds — he's almost gotten the hang of this whole think-speak shit, and it only took him three and a half months. 

Three and a half months of dealing with Oikawa, his own parasitic pest, and Hajime’s come out of it fairly unscathed. He almost wants to demand a medal of some sort; it feels like something that should be recognized internationally. 

"But Iwa-chan," Oikawa says, and Hajime sighs as he feels Oikawa slither around his neck, pulling his hood up automatically, "the poster said bring your date. What is a date." 

Hajime shifts the bag of baked goods to his other hand, digging around in his pocket to pull out his phone to check the time. He will deny it forever, but the only reason he even comes to this bakery is because Oikawa loves the milk bread. "It's the person you're seeing, like your partner. Or someone you're interested in seeing, potentially." The phone reads 5:42. Hajime has plenty of time before the 11:59 submission deadline for this week’s homework, so he's definitely going to get home and watch mindless TV. 

Oikawa's quiet for a beat, then two. "Iwa-chan, I am your Valentine's Day date." 

Hajime trips over nothing and almost faceplants into the sidewalk. "What?”  

"What does a Valentine's Day date do?" Oikawa barrels ahead, as if he hadn't almost made Hajime crash into concrete. "I will do this for you." He pauses. "The poster indicated food is involved. We will feast together." 

"Okay, hang on," Hajime says, and then for good measure adds: "Hang the fuck on. Who said you were my Valentine?" 

"I am not your Valentine. I am your Valentine's Day date," Oikawa explains calmly, as if he's being reasonable. 

"No, you're not," Hajime says, glad his feet still work on autopilot when he realizes he's at the entrance of his building because what the fuck is Oikawa talking about? "You're — Oikawa." He punches in the keycode and shoves the door open, smashing the Up button on the elevator as if it's a way to escape the conversation.

There’s no getting away from the alien that lives within you, though. An inescapable inner demon — one that just loves talking. “You stated that this is something one does with a partner. Since I am your partner, I — ” 

“Since when are you my partner?” 

“Since you said I was.” 

“When?” Hajime would’ve remembered saying something stupid like that. 

“After I fucked you,” Oikawa says without an ounce of shame, and Hajime chokes on air as his face heats up. 

“Don’t — ” he wheezes, “god, don’t say it like that.” It had been a week since then, and Hajime had firmly held his ground and refused to engage in anything like that again. He couldn’t even believe he’d let himself be like — like that in front of Oikawa in the first place. 

“That’s what you call it,” Oikawa says. “Is there another term I should use?” 

Hajime steps off the elevator and wants to crawl into bed in the hopes of never having this conversation ever again. Surely, if he pulls the blanket over his head, Oikawa will get the hint and leave this alone. 

“Why are you embarrassed about this? Is this not a normal aspect of being a human? This “fucking”?” 

Hajime rests his forehead against the front of his door and takes a deep breath, clenching his fist around the plastic bag. “Stop talking. Please.” 

“But it is?” 

Hajime grits his teeth and jams his key into the lock, shoving the door open and wanting to slam it shut but closing it gently because he tries to be a good neighbor. “Nothing about you is normal, Oikawa,” he hisses, tossing the bag onto the kitchen counter and wrestling off his shoes. 

“Yes,” Oikawa says, materializing into the floating head he likes to use right by Hajime’s side to preen. “That is why I am your partner.” 

“I never said that! And that wasn’t a compliment.” 

“Yes, you did, after we — ” 

“If you use the word f — fucked again, I’m going to strangle you.” 

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa sighs, as if dealing with an unruly toddler. “How many times must I remind you that you cannot strangle me?” 

“I think god hates me.” 

Oikawa bares his teeth, moving closer to Hajime’s face. “Who is this god? I will kill them.” 

Hajime stares back at Oikawa, trying not to smile. “You’re gonna kill god?” 

“Yes.” As if there’s no doubt that he’ll succeed. 

“Okay, good luck. Let me know how that goes for you.” 

“Are you doubting my power? Iwa-chan, I am a strong, invincible — ” 

Hajime shrugs exaggeratedly, padding into the kitchen to wash his hands. “Didn’t look that invincible when you were black snot crawling around on the ground begging to merge with me so you could survive.” 

“I did not beg,” Oikawa snarls. “I do not beg! This was — wait.” Oikawa narrows his eyes. “You are trying to distract me from partners.” 

Hajime purses his lips. “Is it working?” 

“I am immune to your trickery,” Oikawa boasts. “You stated that we were partners, and therefore, I will be your Valentine’s Day date.” 

“Okay, assuming I said ‘partners’ — which I’m sure I didn’t — ” 

“You did.” 

“ — which I’m sure I didn’t, it was obviously meant in a… a business partners sense. Or a sports sense. Or something like that.” 

“Business partner.” Hajime is almost impressed by the amount of scorn Oikawa injects into the word ‘business.’ “Iwa-chan, do you think I am stupid?” 

“Well.” Hajime tilts his head side to side. 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines. He nuzzles up against Hajime’s cheek, butting into it. “Iwa-chan, I am your partner. You said.” 

Hajime bats him away. “Obviously, there was something wrong with me in that moment if I did.” 

“Are you implying I broke you?” 

Hajime splutters out, “You didn’t — shut up!” 

“I broke Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sing-songs. “I will fix you, too.” 

Hajime grinds his teeth together and takes a deep breath. “You are not my Valentine, and this is not happening.” 

“Iwa-chan…” 

“Not happening,” Hajime announces. He grabs a beer from the fridge and heads to the couch, plopping down onto it. “I’m going to watch shitty TV and not think about you.” 

“Iwa-chan, the bread,” Oikawa whines, stretching himself toward the kitchen. “Can I have my bread?” 

“That’s only for good parasites that behave themselves,” Hajime says as he turns the TV on, scrolling through the catalog. “You haven’t been a good parasite.” 

“But — ” 

“Nope.” 

Oikawa falls silent and then subsumes himself into Hajime, and Hajime basks in it as he selects a reality TV show that’s apparently popular right now. He basks in it as the woman on screen talks about how harrowing it was to avoid being voted out from last season — Hajime has not seen the last season and has no intention to — and basks in it as the people start pairing off. Basks in it when they start doing the challenges, and when he hits the halfway mark of the episode and Oikawa still hasn’t talked, he decides to give a little nudge. 

Hey. 

Oikawa doesn’t respond. 

Hajime frowns. Hey, Shittykawa. That’s bound to get a response. 

Oikawa stays silent. 

Look, is this because I didn’t give you your bread. 

Still silent.

Are you sulking right now? 

Why does Iwa-chan care, Oikawa says sulkily. If it were possible for him to do so, Hajime’s convinced he’d be kicking rocks down an empty road.

Don’t be like that. You know we’re gonna eat in a bit, just let me decompress. 

Why does Iwa-chan care?  

“Oikawa,” Hajime sighs. 

Iwa-chan. 

“Come out here.” 

No. 

“Come on.” 

Why? So Iwa-chan can tell me no again? 

Hajime rolls his eyes. “Quit being dramatic. I’m not going to tell you no again.” 

Liar. 

“I’m not lying!” 

Yes, you are. 

“No, I’m not!” 

Then if I come out, you will not say no to me? 

“I won’t.” 

Promise? 

“Promise.” 

Oikawa’s head pops out and he orients himself so he’s staring straight at Hajime’s face. 

“You’re blocking the TV,” Hajime says, feeling a sense of relief at seeing Oikawa’s unnerving, unblinking eyes. 

“So I can be Iwa-chan’s Valentine’s Day date?” 

Hajime’s jaw drops. “What the fuck?” 

“You cannot say no. You promised.” 

Hajime’s mouth works around words he can’t get out through  the anger, because Oikawa’s a terrible, no-good, horrible little shit that manipulates — 

“I am still your partner,” Oikawa cuts in. “And you promised.” 

“You conniving little — ” 

“You have to say ‘yes,’ Iwa-chan.” 

“I don’t have to say shit, you tricked me — ” 

“You promised.” 

Hajime grinds his teeth together. “I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

“I fucking hate you.” 

“When are we going on this date?” 

Hajime slumps into the couch and runs a hand over his face. On the TV, a woman screams, and Hajime thinks, Same. “How would that even work. You can’t exactly sit across from me in a romantic booth.” 

Oikawa seems to mull it over. “Can we have a Valentine’s Day date at home?” 

“Fine. Sure. We’ll get some takeout, and you can have your stupid date.” Hajime scowls at Oikawa. “And you’re not my partner.” 

“Okay,” Oikawa dismisses. “Then we will eat together. And you will tell me more about dates. And about partners. Deal?” 

“No,” Hajime says, flat. “We’ll eat, and we’ll eat in silence.” 

“But Iwa-chan — ” 

“Don’t fucking push it, Oikawa,” Hajime says, flicking Oikawa’s forehead. 

“…Fine,” Oikawa says, drooping down a little. “I will be silent.” 

“Wish I could fucking mute you,” Hajime mutters as he gets up, and Oikawa perks up as he realizes where Hajime’s headed. 

“Food?” 

“Yeah, eat your fucking food that I bought with my own money,” Hajime grumbles, making his way to the counter. “And if you want this…” Hajime sighs again. “This ‘date’ of yours, you better be on your best behavior for the rest of the week, got it?” 

“Yes, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, nodding. "I will.” He floats closer and nuzzles at Hajime’s neck again. “I will make this your best Valentine’s Day date ever.” 

“You’re not going to be doing shit,” Hajime says, crossing his arms and resisting the urge to rest his hand against Oikawa’s head. Maybe he’s gotten into the bad habit of occasionally petting Oikawa. Maybe. He doesn’t indulge in it, though. It’s a fluke, he’s certain, and he’ll get over it soon enough. 

“Just wait,” Oikawa says, and it fills Hajime with a sense of foreboding because that can’t be anything good. 

“As long as I don’t die, I guess it can’t be that bad,” Hajime mutters, unwrapping Oikawa’s bread and tossing it into the air to watch Oikawa eat it in one bite. 

“I will never let Iwa-chan die,” Oikawa says, curling around Hajime’s neck. “Remember?” 

“Unfortunately.” Hajime takes a bite of his beef curry bun. “Just don’t do anything stupid. Or homicidal. Or weird. Just — try to be normal.” 

“But Iwa-chan,” Oikawa croons, “you said yourself — nothing about me is normal.” 

“God help me,” Hajime mutters, and heads back to the couch. 

It’ll be fine, he tells himself. Get food, indulge Oikawa’s stupid whims, and then Hajime will explain why he’s wrong about everything and it’ll resolve itself. 

It’s going to be fine. 

*** 

Hajime would like to forget that he’s going on a pseudo-date with a parasitic alien that uses his body as a playground, but said parasitic alien won’t let him. The days leading up to it are filled with questions about what dating is, what makes a good date, what are examples of dates — Oikawa won’t shut up. 

“Can you stop asking me?” Hajime snaps at one point, trying to get his homework done. 

“No,” Oikawa says, peering at Hajime’s homework. 

Biology. Hajime’s least favorite subject. 

“I cannot,” Oikawa continues, “because Iwa-chan said no talking when we are on the date, so I have to know everything before.” 

So at least there’s that — Hajime’s guaranteed at least an hour of silence on the fourteenth, where he can blissfully eat and do whatever he wants without Oikawa getting in the way. He knows that it’s probably not going to happen, but it’s the last shred of hope he’s clinging to, the one thing keeping him sane. 

Soon, there will be temporary silence. 

The day of, Oikawa wakes Hajime up at an ungodly hour — ten A.M. — and nudges at him until Hajime gets out of bed. 

“Why are you even forcing me to get up, I don’t have class until two thirty,” Hajime grumbles around a mouthful of toothpaste. 

“We need to prepare,” Oikawa says, flitting around Hajime’s head, and Hajime rolls his eyes, glad the tug he feels at the corners of his lips is hidden by the fact he’s brushing his teeth. 

“For what?” 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines, butting against Hajime’s cheek. “You know what.” 

“Do I?” Hajime hums, frowning exaggeratedly after he’s done. 

“It is today.” 

“What’s today?” 

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa’s voice is as flat as it ever gets. “I can read your thoughts. You are playing dumb on purpose.” 

“I have to play dumb because I’m not actually dumb.” For good measure, Hajime adds on: “Unlike you, obviously.” 

“Iwa- chan.” 

“What do you want me to do?” 

“You said date means wearing something nice. Pick out something nice. And you are supposed to wish me a happy Valentine's day.” 

Hajime rolls his eyes. "Well, I'm not wishing you shit." He still ends up making his way to his closet and opens it. A lonely blazer hangs between the sea of  T-shirts, hoodies, and two pairs of ratty jeans. There’s a nice sweater that his mom bought him in the back somewhere, and he’s pretty sure he’s got some slacks tucked away in the corner — For those job interviews! his mom had said, and Hajime still hasn’t had to use them once — but he knows that he’s got a couple of nice coats and jackets somewhere, a couple of dress shirts. He realizes that he’s actually thinking about what to wear and has to force himself to reassess because why the fuck would he dress up for a not-date with Oikawa? 

“Iwa-chan, don’t you want to look nice? You have to do this properly,” Oikawa says, doing whatever passes for a pout on an alien parasite. “And I am not a parasite, I’m a symbiote.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hajime says, and checks his phone to see that it’s just 10:20. “I’m going back to bed. Don’t wake me up until it’s one, okay?” 

“But — ” 

Hajime had already been expecting the protest. “If you do that, I’ll wear something nice. Deal?” 

Oikawa mulls it over. “…Deal.” 

“Good.” He pats Oikawa’s head and Oikawa grumbles about not being a dog even as he leans into it. “Now, be quiet. I’m going back to sleep.” 

“O kay,” Oikawa mumbles, and subsumes himself back into Hajime. 

Hajime climbs back into bed and promptly turns on his phone, pulling up his social media and scrolling through it. 

This isn’t sleeping, Iwa-chan. 

What part of ‘be quiet’ do you not understand? 

But if you’re awake, we can — 

Do you want to go on this date or not? 

Oikawa stops in his tracks. Iwa-chan, he whines. 

Hajime doesn’t know why he hadn’t used this power earlier in the week. He would’ve been unstoppable. 

I thought Iwa-chan wasn’t ‘dumb,’ Oikawa bites out. 

You really don’t want this date to happen, do you? 

Oikawa doesn’t say anything. 

Hajime smirks to himself. Good. He hums to himself as he continues scrolling, and before he knows it, his eyes are drooping and he’s falling asleep. 

When he comes to next, he blinks against the darkness, brow furrowed as he takes in his room, the sheets tangled around his legs. It takes him a couple moments before he jerks up, heart thumping wildly as he claws around the bed for his phone and hits the unlock button, squinting against the light of a thousand suns as the screen lights up. 

8:30 P.M. He’s missed his fucking classes. 

“Fuck,” he says, then, louder: “Fuck!” He scrambles to get out of bed, using his phone as a flashlight to look for the light switch in his room. “Oikawa, why didn’t you wake me up?” 

Oikawa floats out. “Iwa-chan said not to say anything.” 

“Jesus Christ, of all the times to be petty, ” Hajime snaps. “And stop fucking calling me that.” He had a meeting with his group today, and he can’t believe he missed it. He opens up his phone to see the notifications from his group asking where he is, and types up a quick message letting them know he’s alive and slept through his alarm, apologizing profusely. “This is all your fault. If you hadn’t woken me up, I wouldn’t have gone back to sleep!” 

“But Iwa-chan — ” 

“Stop calling me that!” 

Oikawa’s mouth snaps shut, and he seems to shrink back. “You said not to say anything.” 

Hajime opens his mouth to say that he obviously didn’t mean to say that, but then he feels it — tendrils of hurt and confusion swimming inside his mind, and they aren’t his own. He blinks and softens. “Sorry. Sorry, I know I did.” He runs a hand through his hair. “You were just doing what I told you.” 

“Yes,” Oikawa says, floating closer. “So we can go on our date.” He cocks his head to the side. “We’re still going, aren’t we?” 

Hajime sits down on the edge of the bed, reading the responses from his teammates — all along the lines of, ‘We figured it was something like that, don’t worry, we’ll summarize and catch you up’ — and looks at Oikawa, who’s looking at him with wide eyes and bobbing gently from side to side. “Yeah,” he finds himself saying, because he can’t go back on his word now. “And I didn’t — I know it wasn’t your fault. So I’m sorry.” 

Oikawa sniffs and does the symbiote equivalent of a shrug. “Of course it was not my fault. I know this.” 

Hajime rolls his eyes and stands. “Yeah, you definitely knew, didn’t you.” He walks toward his closet and pulls out his jeans, a hoodie. “Let’s get some food.” 

“We are going now?” Oikawa almost seems to be vibrating in excitement. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going now,” Hajime says, yanking on his jeans and shimmying into his hoodie, smoothing his hair down after he’s done. 

“You are not wearing something nice.” 

Hajime flicks Oikawa on the forehead again. “Because the date is happening at home, idiot. I’ll wear something nicer when we get back, unless you want my clothes to get dirty.” 

Oikawa nods. “I see. A good plan.” He crawls under Hajime’s hoodie and settles himself against Hajime’s neck, his favorite spot. “Let us get food.” 

Hajime huffs out a laugh and pads toward the door, slipping on his shoes and grabbing his keys, wallet. “Better have an appetite, Oikawa.” 

“I always have an appetite.” 

Hajime laughs again, because he knows how true that is. He exits the building and Oikawa hums as he sees where Hajime’s heading: a small hole-in-the-wall place, ran by an elderly couple that always coo over how strong Hajime’s getting every time they see him or scold him for not eating enough — he sees them about twice a week — and one of his favorites. They always give him extra portions, their food reminding him of his mom’s back home. 

“This is a good restaurant. I enjoy the seafood.” 

“I know you do,” Hajime says, because Oikawa devours every plate as if it’s the last thing he’s ever going to eat. “I’ll grab some seafood from the grocery store, too.” Oikawa prefers raw food, anyway. 

“Lobster?” Oikawa asks excitedly. 

“And crab,” Hajime says, because it might blow through his budget for the week, but, well — Oikawa’s been excited about this the entire week. And maybe Hajime has already moved stuff around in his budget in the coming couple of weeks to accommodate that. 

“And crab? Iwa-chan, those are my favorite!” 

“I know, Shittykawa,” Hajime says, smiling. “Why do you think I’m getting them?” 

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa nuzzles aggressively against Hajime’s neck. “We should do more dates if I am getting lobster and crab every time.” 

“Whoa, who said anything about lobster and crab every time?” Hajime pauses. “Who said anything about more dates?” 

“You said that partners go on a lot of dates.” 

“That isn’t part of our deal,” Hajime says, and he’s about to continue with a Don’t push it, when he feels Oikawa freeze up. 

Hajime knows that can’t be good. Don’t do anything, he instructs, because he knows Oikawa’s first instinct is going to be violence. 

That’s when he feels it. A gun, pressed against his back. He hates that he knows exactly what that feels like, that he can recognize it so easily. His heart rate skyrockets as he stops mid-stride, breath coming faster. 

Are you fucking kidding me.  

“Don’t move, kid. Hands where I can see them.”

Iwa-chan, Oikawa hisses, and Hajime can feel the restlessness, the way Oikawa’s about two seconds away from snapping and eating the guy behind him. 

“Okay, man,” Hajime says, holding up his hands. He would be freaking out a lot more if he hadn’t saved the world from an alien invasion a few months ago, he’s pretty sure, but right now, he’s just annoyed. “Don’t want any trouble.” 

“Good. I don’t either.” 

Iwa-chan. 

Stay, Hajime instructs, because this is a pain in the ass, but a potential missing person will be much, much worse. Don’t do anything, Oikawa, I mean it. 

“Reach into your pocket and pull out your wallet, and no one gets hurt.” 

“I don’t have any cash, you know, and I’m going to just cancel my cards as soon as I’m out of here.” 

“Good thing you’re giving me your phone, too, then.” 

Hajime grits his teeth, letting out his breath slowly. “I’m going to reach in with my right hand, okay? Grab my wallet first.” 

“Don’t bother,” the guy says, and then he’s jostling Hajime, reaching into his pocket. 

“Do not touch him,” Oikawa snarls, manifesting right next to Hajime, mouth open in a snarl and eyes wide, tongue lolling out. 

“Oh my god,” the guy whimpers, and Hajime hears the scuffling of feet as he steps back. “Oh my god, what the fuck is this, what the fuck are you, what the fuck — ” 

“You will pay for touching him,” Oikawa continues, sharp teeth on display. “I will make your death slow, painful — ” 

There’s a gunshot, then another. Hajime staggers forward, a surprised oof exhaled from his lips, and then the pain hits and he crumples to the ground. 

“Hajime!” he hears Oikawa yell, and Hajime turns to see Oikawa lunging for the man, who’s still rooted in the same spot, for some reason. 

“Don’t — ” Hajime coughs out. “Don’t kill him, Oikawa, or I swear I’ll never forgive you.” 

Oikawa hesitates for a second before biting down on the man’s hand and tearing it from him, gun and all. The man howls in pain, and Hajime’s eyes flutter as he presses a hand against where he’s bleeding in his abdomen. 

He feels Oikawa’s panic flitting through him, feels the rage boiling over, and thinks, Happy Valentine’s Day , before darkness overtakes him. 

*** 

He wakes slowly. 

His mind comes back online first, but he doesn’t want to open his eyes just yet. Keeps them closed, grogginess still dragging him down, and waits for a few breaths he forces them open, squinting against the bright light. 

He turns his head to the side, orienting himself, and recognizes the sheets, the dresser, the clothes hanging in the open closet — he’s in his bedroom. 

Then he remembers that he was shot, and his hands fly to his abs, pressing into his shirt, feeling how wet it still is. His hand comes away with small traces of blood when he pulls it back, but he realizes that he barely feels any pain — just a twinge, like he’s having a cramp. Definitely not the blood-burning agony that had been coursing through him earlier. 

“Iwa-chan? Iwa-chan, you are okay.” 

Hajime swallows against his dry mouth, licking his lips. “What — what happened?” 

Oikawa floats into Hajime’s line of vision, mouth set into a thin line. “You were hurt.” 

Hajime remembers the guy, the way he had screamed, the pure fear he had heard, and tries to sit up but tentacles pin him against the bed. 

“No getting up. I am still healing you.” 

“The guy — Oikawa,” Hajime rushes out, “did you kill the guy? Tell me you didn’t kill the guy.” 

Oikawa’s silent for a second. 

“Oh, god, oh god, did you kill him?” Hajime might be hyperventilating a little. 

“No,” Oikawa says, clipped. “I would like to find him and kill him, though. I will devour him whole.” 

Hajime slumps back into the bed and brings up an arm to cover his eyes, relief settling over him like a cool blanket. “Oh, thank god.” 

“Why thank god? He almost killed you. I will kill him to ensure he never does that again.” 

“We can’t go around killing people, Oikawa. That isn’t — it isn’t right.” 

“I do not care.” Oikawa shoves himself closer. “He hurt you! What’s right is making sure he never hurts you again!” 

Hajime breathes out through his nose. “No killing. We agreed.” 

“No, you agreed.” 

Hajime knows this is a lost cause, because he’s had this argument with Oikawa too many times to count. He decides to switch tactics. “Okay, if you didn’t kill him, why was he screaming? What did you do to him?” 

“I bit off his hand.” 

Hajime lets his arm drop from his face so he can stare at Oikawa incredulously. “You — you bit off his hand?” 

“And his leg, so he could not run. I intend to go back and find him.” 

Hajime’s mouth opens and shuts as he tries to process the information. “Oikawa,” he says faintly, “you can’t permanently maim people, either.” 

“He should not have hurt you.” 

Hajime should find this disturbing. He should be horrified, and he definitely is. He is absolutely horrified and not somewhat touched at the lengths Oikawa will go to protect him, because obviously, Oikawa is only concerned about ensuring Hajime’s body survives so that he can continue being a good host, and — 

“Are you stupid Iwa-chan?” Oikawa interrupts, rudely butting into Hajime’s nose. 

“Ow,” Hajime says, rubbing his nose and glaring at Oikawa. “What was that for?” 

“You are stupid!” Oikawa says. “I am concerned because you are my partner!” 

Hajime stares at Oikawa, his heart flip-flopping inside his chest. “I didn’t realize you were so serious about that stuff.” 

Oikawa scoffs. “I am inside you. You can read my thoughts and feelings. How could you not know this?” 

“It’s — listen, I can’t tell what’s mine and what’s yours and what’s going on, okay? I’m trying to get used to all this shit!” Hajime tries to defend, because it’s true. He still isn’t used to this weird telepathy shit. He doesn’t know how this works. Oikawa didn’t come with an instruction manual. There was no How To Take Care Of Your Weird Alien Symbiote For Dummies that accompanied him.  

“So if you can’t tell what’s mine and what’s yours, does this mean Iwa-chan also wants to be my partner?” 

Hajime stills. 

Does he…? 

He doesn't. He definitely doesn't. He doesn't know why he's even entertaining the thought. 

“Stupid. Iwa-chan is so stupid.” 

Hajime scowls. “I'm not stupid. And I’m injured.” He swats at Oikawa only to have Oikawa dodge him. “You can’t talk to an injured person like that.” 

And just like that, Hajime can feel the rage again — doesn’t remember the last time he really felt Oikawa’s emotions, is ashamed to admit that part of him just never thought about it. 

“Yes, Iwa-chan, you want to be my partner. I can read it in your mind. You enjoy having me inside you.” 

Inside you evokes a certain reaction that Hajime doesn’t want to think about. Oikawa’s unfiltered anger and concern doesn’t help quell that reaction.

Oh god. Hajime’s turning into a freak. 

“You’re turning me into a freak,” Hajime accuses. “Quit it.” 

“Iwa-chan was already this ‘freak,’” Oikawa informs him, which is the worst thing he could’ve said. “I do not change a host’s personality.” 

“Yeah? How many hosts have you been inside.” 

Oikawa hesitates, and Hajime doesn’t even need him to answer. 

“I’m your first, aren’t I?” Hajime rolls over and buries his face into the pillow, wincing a little as it tugs at his still-healing wound. “I can’t believe I’m your test human.” 

“Well, I was your first, wasn’t I? We are even.” 

“That isn’t the same,” Hajime groans, and then lifts his head up. “Wait, is it the same? Is this what alien virginity is? Did I take your alien virginity?” 

“No!” Oikawa huffs out. “We do not have this ‘virginity’ concept.” 

Hajime squints at him, and then reaches out with his mind. Is delighted to find that Oikawa’s… Oikawa’s embarrassed. “Oh my god, I totally took your alien virginity.” 

“Shut up,” Oikawa snaps. “I need you to get better so we can go back and hunt this man who hurt you. I am sure he’s still lying in a pool of his own blood, and I need to finish the job.” 

This isn’t hot, Hajime reminds his dick. This is a bad thing. 

You find this arousing? Iwa-chan, I will do this and worse to anyone who dares to touch you. 

“Get out of my head,” Hajime gets out, strangled, because no, he doesn’t. 

“Your penis is starting to get erect.” 

Maybe if Hajime lies stock still, his body will be convinced that he’s actually died and he won’t have to have this conversation again. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop talking about my penis.” 

“Perhaps a few more will do the trick,” Oikawa snipes back. 

“I miss when you didn’t talk back to me,” Hajime bemoans, flopping onto his back, and is pleasantly surprised when his wound doesn’t twinge at all. He lifts up his shirt and is astonished to find that the only evidence of a gunshot is a tiny little puckering of the skin, still shiny and pink where he assumed the bullet exited. 

“You don’t,” Oikawa says, and then there are tendrils tugging at the waistband of Hajime’s pants. 

“Whoa, hey, what the fuck are you doing?” Hajime yelps, tugging up his pants. 

“Isn’t Iwa-chan educated? You are the one who taught me this.” 

“We can’t — ” he can’t say fuck “ — do that right now! Or ever.” He pauses. “Again,” he amends. “We can’t do that ever again.” 

“You want this, Iwa-chan.” 

“No, I don’t,” Hajime says firmly, a death-grip on either side of his pants even as Oikawa keeps tugging down the middle. “I never wanted this.” 

“Iwa-chan, I am inside you. I know you want this.” 

And again, inside you evokes a flood of thoughts inside Hajime’s mind, and he frantically tries to shut out all thoughts related to that before Oikawa — 

“You cannot escape me when I am one with your mind.” 

Hajime rolls onto his stomach and screams into the pillow, because he hates this. 

“You don’t.” Oikawa pauses with his tugging and floats so he’s butting up against the back of Hajime’s head, trying to entice him to flip back over. “Iwa-chan. Won’t you let me take care of you?” 

Hajime takes a deep breath, breathing it out into the pillow, and then slowly, slowly rolls onto his back. He drapes his arm over his face, shutting his eyes. “Just — do it.” 

Oikawa makes that little chirp he does whenever he’s excited and starts tugging at Hajime’s pants again. 

“Wait, on one condition,” Hajime says, craning his neck up and glaring at Oikawa. “We’re not going to go back and kill that man.” 

Oikawa seems to droop, tentacles falling limp. “But Iwa-chan,” he whines. 

“No,” Hajime says, firm. “No killing. And from now on, no maiming, either.” 

“You don’t mean that last part.” 

Hajime purses his lips. “No maiming people unless I’m actually in genuine danger.” 

Oikawa lets out an explosive sigh. “Fine.” Mutters loud enough for Hajime to hear, “Be boring.” 

“Do you wanna see my dick or not?” Hajime says, then feels his face heat up as he realizes what he’s said. Pushes through the embarrassment, though, and adds, “Because if you think I’m so boring, maybe I should go find another symbiote — ” 

“No,” Oikawa rushes out. “No, Iwa-chan is mine. Only mine.” 

Creepy, Hajime reminds himself even as his dick twitches. That’s creepy. 

“You find this arousing too?” Hajime wants to smack the smug look off Oikawa’s face. “I knew this.” 

“Whatever.” Hajime lies back and pushes his head into the pillow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Get on with it.” 

The first thing Oikawa does is grab Hajime’s arms and slam them up over his head, pressing down into the mattress. The second thing he does is conjure up two other tentacles to pin Hajime’s hips to the mattress as he tugs off Hajime’s pants and underwear. 

Hajime would be ashamed at how he goes from kinda interested to burning arousal in a matter of seconds, but he’s busy trying to catch his breath. “What are you doing?” 

“You enjoy being pinned and helpless.” 

Hajime swallows heavily, blinking up at the ceiling. Thinks about how pinned and helpless he is, and has to squeeze his eyes shut as a shiver runs through him. “I don’t,” he says, voice weak, and bites his lip hard as he feels Oikawa ruck up his shirt. Doesn’t take it off, which makes Hajime feel even more exposed as he imagines what he looks like right now — naked from the waist down, shirt rucked up to his neck. As if Oikawa was too impatient to get to him to even bother undressing him properly. 

“I am impatient,” Oikawa says, and Hajime hates that Oikawa has learned what passes as a seductive tone because it’s absolute hell on Hajime. “Is this not part of a date?” 

Hajime exhales slowly through his nose. “Sure.” He swallows again, mouth dry, cool air pebbling his nipples. “Sure, let’s say it is.” 

“If it makes Iwa-chan feel better,” Oikawa croons, and then his tentacles are plucking at Hajime’s nipples, toying with them. 

“Why are you — ” Hajime inhales sharply at an insistent tug, arching up into it before forcing himself back down. “Why are you playing with them?” 

“You think about this often. Dream of it.” 

Hajime bites the inside of his cheek, turning his head to the side.

“You can move however you like,” Oikawa continues, “because I won’t let you move anywhere I don’t want.” 

Hajime bites harder, flexing his hands inside Oikawa’s grip, and dares to look down. Almost looks away but forces himself to stay, watching Oikawa focused solely on him, a tentacle slowly slipping its way up his thigh, cupping his balls. “How did you — when did you have time to get good at this?” Hajime breathes out, transfixed by how hard he is, how much he’s already leaking. 

“I studied Iwa-chan’s memories.” Oikawa cocks his head. “You enjoy biting, too.” 

Hajime makes a small sound at that, unable to keep looking. Jolts when he feels sharp, sharp teeth on his inner thigh, not biting down but there, pricking into his skin. His breath starts to come faster; part of him is convinced Oikawa can see the way his pulse jumps in his neck, beatin under his skin. He licks his lips and says, voice hoarse, “Do it.” 

Oikawa doesn’t hesitate — doesn’t ask if Hajime’s sure, if Hajime really wants this, because he already knows. Hajime yelps as Oikawa’s teeth sink in, sharp, sharp pain that’s followed by a cool balm, a tingling that radiates up from where Oikawa has bitten him, coursing through him and lifting him higher, higher. 

Hajime doesn’t even have to say Again before Oikawa’s doing the same a little further up: sharp pain; cool, euphoric relief. Thinks, Again, and he feels Oikawa’s teeth hovering even further up but never biting down. He tries to lift his thigh up, to meet Oikawa’s mouth, to push it into his teeth, but Oikawa doesn’t let him move an inch. 

“What — ” he pants. “Why are you stopping. Oikawa, again.” 

“Ask,” Oikawa says, voice vibrating through Hajime’s muscle, and Hajime’s dick twitches. 

“I did. I am. Oikawa — ” He tries to struggle again, pushing further up and still unable to get anywhere. “Oikawa.”  

“Out loud, Iwa-chan.” You want me to make you say it out loud. 

Hajime lets out a small whine, shaking his head. 

“You can’t hide from me,” Oikawa reminds him. 

Hajime’s breath is shaky, stilted. He tries once more to push his thigh into Oikawa’s waiting mouth, and still can’t get any leverage. He slumps into the mattress and squeezes his eyes shut before saying, voice small, “Bite me, Oikawa.” When Oikawa doesn’t move, heat floods through him as he realizes what else Oikawa wants. “Please.” 

Oikawa bites down, and Hajime moans, low and long as he does, unable to stop himself. His eyes fly open and he pants as the healing follows immediately, sweat beading his hairline. “Again,” he says, and Oikawa obeys: does it up and down his right thigh before moving to his left, and Hajime moans each time, panting harshly through his mouth. He keeps trying to arch into it, to chase Oikawa’s mouth, but he can’t move. 

“Oikawa,” he pants when Oikawa has spent what feels like hours on his thighs. “Oikawa.” 

Oikawa bites down again, laving it with his tongue. Hums. “Does Iwa-chan want something?”

Hajime tries to jerk his hips, where he’s aching, dripping onto his abs. “You know what I want, you’re inside me,” he snaps, then whimpers when Oikawa bites down again at the same spot. 

“Iwa-chan wants me inside him?” 

Hajime whines sharply at the thought, mind conjuring up images, sensations of last time — of how good he’d felt with Oikawa thrusting in and out, of Oikawa in his mouth, of being helpless and on display. 

There’s something prodding at his entrance, thick tentacles wrapping around his middle and pushing him even further down as his legs are wrenched apart. Oikawa slowly enters him, and Hajime throws his head back, arms flexing at the small stretch — doesn’t even have to think about wanting something thicker before Oikawa’s doing it, letting him get used to it before slowly, slowly pulling out and thrusting back in. 

Hajime’s breath leaves him in a grunt, and then again, and then again as Oikawa continues, setting a slow, even pace. 

“Need — ” Hajime breathes, and Oikawa’s already biting him again. Hajime’s cry is loud, stuttering, and he hears a thump behind him in the wall; embarrassment and arousal war within him because the walls are thin, he’s certain everyone can hear him, can hear — 

“I can help keep you quiet,” Oikawa says, and then there’s a tentacle prodding at his mouth. 

Hajime lets it in without a thought, sucking hard. Cries out around it, garbled, when Oikawa speeds up. Whines in the back of his throat when Oikawa bites him again. 

It’s too much. It’s too much, but still not enough, and then Oikawa wraps a slick tentacle around his cock, stroking him in rhythm with his thrusts. 

Hajime comes with a shout, unable to move an inch, forced into stillness as his body convulses in place. He comes down breathing heavy, and Oikawa removes the tentacle in his mouth, stays still inside him. 

Hajime clenches around him, sighing at how good it feels to be full. 

Again? 

Hajime shakes his head, chest heaving. “Just — stay like this for a minute.”  He shuts his eyes and melts into the mattress. Doesn’t have to ask Oikawa to remove the bindings before Oikawa’s releasing him, already cleaning up Hajime’s mess, still inside him. 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says right by his ear, and the moment Hajime starts to feel cold, Oikawa’s already hoisting the sheets over him. “You do not want me to remove the tentacle.” 

Hajime is already halfway asleep, so can’t be bothered to feel embarrassed at shaking his head. “ ‘m going to sleep.” 

Oikawa nuzzles in close to him, but Hajime stops him with a hand. Beckons him to face Hajime, and doesn’t think twice before landing a soft kiss on whatever passes as Oikawa’s forehead. 

He feels a frisson of bright, hot emotion radiate through Oikawa, and he smiles. “That was good. You were good.” He drops another soft kiss, and the same emotion runs through Oikawa. “And thank you for protecting me.” 

“Iwa-chan is mine to protect,” Oikawa says, aggressively butting against Hajime’s cheek, nuzzling into his shoulder. 

“No maiming people, though,” Hajime says around a yawn, and turns back to the side. “Or killing.” 

Oikawa hums noncommittally. 

“I mean it,” Hajime mumbles, eyes shut once more. “I can’t catch a murder charge because you want to go around being homicidal. I have classes to get to.” 

“Go to sleep,” Oikawa says. “You’re tired.” 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. This conversation isn’t over.” 

“Goodnight, Iwa-chan.” 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Oikawa.” Hajime’s almost asleep, and that’s what he blames his next words on: “You’re a good partner.” 

Oikawa does that happy little chirp again and wraps his tendrils around Hajime, like Hajime had asked the first time. “I will be even better.” 

Hajime hums. 

For the first time, he actually believes it.