Archive of Our Own ^beta

Before he even has a chance to look at his phone when their last practice set of the day ends, Ushijima knows that he has at least three messages waiting for him, each longer and more suggestive than the last. He had made a mistake letting Oikawa borrow his club jacket the last time he had seen him, and he realizes this when he opens the first of what is actually seven messages pinging him on his phone.

This first one is Oikawa on his couch, cuddled up in the jacket and watching something on the television that Ushijima knows is where his eyes are trained—he knows that apartment too well, really—with a message saying ‘have a good practice, Ushi-chan~’. He opens the second one and there’s really not much difference between it and the first, but when he sees it, Ushijima feels his jaw set in a hard line. Oikawa’s t-shirt was gone from beneath the jacket, hung over the couch behind him. Ah.

He decides to finish packing up and make his way out of the gym before opening the rest of the picture messages, watching as articles of Oikawa’s clothing joined his t-shirt on the back of the couch, watching as he becomes progressively more naked until, in the last message, it’s just a picture of the jacket, lying on Oikawa’s couch, a little winking and kissing emoji attached to it. The Shiratorizawa captain is about to pocket his phone, the pace of his walk to the train station quickening without his notice, when it dings at him again, Oikawa’s name popping up on the screen.

It’s a short message, and Ushijima knows that he had not meant to send it the way it was, but something about the ‘I miss y’ that pulled up on his phone was so very Oikawa that he would have been a little less enamored by the message if he had spelled out the entire thing.

When Ushijima uses the spare key Oikawa had given him months previous to let himself into the apartment, he finds the answer as to why the messages had ended where they had. Curled up on the couch he had been on all day—as far as Ushijima could tell, anyway—was Oikawa, Shiratorizawa jacket two sizes too big pulled up around him like a blanket, legs bare. Ushijima drops his bag by the door and pads over to Oikawa, kneeling down in front of him and pushing the hair from his eyes with his fingertips.

Oikawa stirs and blinks sleepily at him, smiling when he notices who it is that’s waking him up. “How was your practice?” He asks, then, “What time is it?”

Ushijima tries to pull him up, frowns when Oikawa tugs him down with equal force. “You’re going to hurt your back, sleeping here.” He nudges him over, making just enough room to slip down beside him. An arm hooks loosely around Oikawa’s shoulders and the setter makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat, cuddling against Ushijima’s side. “It’s about two in the morning.”

They lay there silently for a long moment, and Ushijima begins to believe that Oikawa fell asleep again before he leans up and kisses Ushijima’s jaw. Ushijima smiles the faint, fond smile he has on reserve for Oikawa and peppers little kisses all over his face.

Groaning, Oikawa swats at him, mumbling, “Wanna go to bed. Carry me,”

At this point, Ushijima doesn’t think about telling him no, because he’s just as tired, if not more so. His arms and legs and every other muscle group in his body are aching but he lifts Oikawa off of the couch only to plop him down into his bed in the next room, kick his sweatpants off and crawl in beside him. Laying down feels better than he would have thought, and he wraps his arms around Oikawa’s torso underneath the jacket, snuggling close to him.

“Cold,” Oikawa says, and Ushijima groans, pulling the blankets over the two of them. “No, touch me.” He shifts against Ushijima’s side and kisses at his neck, licking the patch of skin below his earlobe that makes Ushijima’s head spin.

“I’m tired,” Ushijima tells him, “touch yourself.” His breath hitches when Oikawa’s next attack is to grind against his thigh, to tell him that he missed him while he was gone. “I saw. You’re playing dirty.”

Oikawa’s hand slides up his chest and Ushijima turns to kiss him before he can let Oikawa think he’s in control. The setter grinds against him again and Ushijima gives in with a huff, kissing down his chest, stomach, and licking a long stripe on the underside of Oikawa’s cock before taking him into his mouth. The moan that rips out of Oikawa’s mouth is enough to tell Ushijima that he won, and the hand that moves to tug at his hair is an even better prize. He sucks slowly, stroking just the base of his cock as lazily as he can manage and he has Oikawa’s breath hitching before he can get his mouth halfway down his cock.

The little, broken sighs and moans, whimpers, even, inflate Ushijima’s ego more than usual and he holds back a smirk while he pulls Oikawa apart with his mouth, tongue, fingers and when Oikawa cums, sobbing his name, Ushijima can’t stop himself from licking everything up and giving him this wicked, knowing grin.

“You’re mean,” Oikawa pants, pouting and reaching for him. “I just wanted you to fuck me.”

“Tomorrow,” Ushijima tells him, smoothing the hair out of Oikawa’s eyes and licking his own lips once more, tasting him there. “I’m exhausted, but you’re too needy when you’re tired for me to sleep like this.”

Oikawa huffs but folds himself to Ushijima’s side easily, still wrapped in his jacket. They lay awake for a handful of minutes more, Oikawa tiredly asking about practice and Ushijima telling him what they worked on until Oikawa’s breathing slows and evens out against his chest.