Archive of Our Own ^beta

They were supposed to be studying.

It’s such a hot day, though, that focusing is practically impossible. Spring shouldn’t feel like this. The air from the ceiling fan and the open windows does nothing to stop the heat from sticking to their skin, making the entire room feel sluggish.

“I can’t do this,” Oikawa complains, fanning himself with a loose sheet of paper. 

“I told you we should’ve gone to the library. It has AC,” Iwaizumi says, eyes still locked on his textbook as if the heat isn’t affecting him.

“Yeah, but then we wouldn’t have my mom’s homemade snacks,” he says, pointing to the tray at the edge of the table, half-filled with small taiyakis. They ate half quite a few of them already. “And you always say that you have to listen to music while you study,” he says. 

Soft classical music hums from Oikawa’s computer, blending with the occasional rustling of pages and the low whir of the fan.

“Sure, but I could just use my earphones,” he says, shrugging. He has no refute for the first part. Mrs. Oikawa’s food is always the best.

“But then you wouldn’t get to hear my beautiful voice every time I speak,” Oikawa counters smoothly.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “That would be a blessing.”

Oikawa gasps. “Rude!” He gasps in offense before smacking the back of Iwaizumi’s hand.

Hajime chuckles. “Fuck off. Focus.”

Tooru sighs and picks up his pencil again, but quickly drops it after reading the next equation. He’s not a big fan of maths. 

“This is so hard.” He groans, sliding down until he’s sprawled on the floor, limbs splayed out like he’s just perished. “Why is math like this? Who decided numbers should be evil?”

The other teenager barely spares him a glance. “Maybe if you tried to solve the exercise instead of giving up as soon as you read it, we’ll have all of this done by the time the others arrive.”

“Oh, yeah.” Oikawa remembers Hanamaki and Matsukawa are supposed to study with them too. “Why are they still not here?” He reaches for his phone and finds a couple of notifications from their group chat. “Ah.”

“What?”

“There’s some train issue,” he says, skimming their messages. “They’re stuck at the station waiting for it to be fixed. Looks like it’ll take a while.”

Hajime sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “So I’m stuck with you for at least another hour. Fantastic.”

“Hey!” Tooru sits up, scandalized. “I’m wonderful company.”

“Debatable.”

Oikawa gasps again, clutching his chest like he’s been personally wounded. “Wow. So cruel. I give and I give, and this is how you treat me?”

Iwaizumi snorts, shaking his head. “If by ‘give,’ you mean ‘whine and avoid work,’ then yeah.”

The setter is about to reply when his phone beeps. He checks in case it’s an update from their friends, but it’s his girlfriend, asking him to hang out later that afternoon. He sighs and types a quick “Sorry, I can’t” as a reply. As he has been doing for the last week. 

“She’s gonna leave you if you keep treating her like that, you know?” Hajime says

“Why are you peeking at my messages?” Tooru asks.

Iwaizumi ignores him. “I’m starting to think you just suck at romance with how often you get dumped,” he says instead.

“How dare you? I’m great at romance!” Oikawa argues. 

“The evidence says otherwise.”

He scoffs, leaning back on his hands. “Excuse you, I’ll have you know I’m an amazing boyfriend.”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “Sure. That’s why you’ve been ignoring her texts all week?”

“That’s different.” Tooru waves him off. “We’re just not that compatible. I don’t want to break her heart by telling her, you know, so I’m just trying to let her down softly.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I am good at romance, though. I’m an excellent kisser.” He smirks, tapping his lips. “I’ve been told.”

Iwaizumi snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“I have!” Oikawa insists. “People have literally told me I’m great at it.”

“And are these people in the room with us?” 

“I’m serious!”

“Uh-huh.” 

Tooru frowns. “You don’t believe me.”

“Oh no, I totally believe you.” His voice is dry, uninterested.

Oikawa stares at him, brows furrowing. He doesn’t know why, but the skepticism irks him more than it should.

So before he can think it through, his mouth is already moving. “Wait, I’ll prove it to you.”

That finally makes Iwaizumi look up, blinking. “What?”

“Like I said, I’ll prove it to you.”

Hajime blinks again, and his expression turns more and more astonished with each passing second. “Huh?”

“Yeah! You keep doubting me, so I’m gonna fucking prove it to you. Come on.” He crawls closer to Iwaizumi until their knees touch. He grabs his cheeks.

“What the fuck are you doing, Shittyka—” 

Before he can finish speaking, his best friend’s lips are on his.

What. The. Fuck.

It’s like Hajime’s brain can’t fully comprehend what’s going on. His body doesn’t know what to do, how to react. His mouth is still, and his lips, covered by Tooru’s—his best friend, his teammate, the guy he’s been in love with since they were eight years old—sting as if bitten by an insect. 

But after a beat, his mouth catches up. He chases after Oikawa’s heat, but doesn’t realize what he is doing until he makes a surprised little noise against his lips. Like he’s the one caught off guard.

And suddenly it’s spiraling.

Oikawa shifts closer, crowding into his space, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, and Iwaizumi’s hands finally snap into action. He grabs Tooru’s wrist with one, while he finds his waist with the other one. The boy’s body is practically on fire. His skin is hot through his shirt, and when Iwaizumi’s fingers flex, Oikawa shivers.

Iwaizumi feels like he’s losing his mind.

Tooru kisses like he’s showing off, like he needs to win, lips moving slow and deliberate, teasing, coaxing, and Hajime shouldn’t be letting him take the lead, but he’s dizzy with the taste of him. He bites down on Oikawa’s bottom lip, just hard enough to get a reaction, and the noise he makes goes straight to his dick.

Tooru gasps against him, breaking the kiss. “Hajime!”

Iwaizumi has to repress a groan. Oikawa barely calls him by his first name, and the way it sounds now, so breathless, so desperate…it’s going to be ingrained in his memory forever.

They are both looking at each other, searching for something in each other’s eyes, anything to tell them how to feel about this situation. 

“Do…” Iwaizumi’s voice comes out a bit strangled. He licks his lips. “Do you want to stop?” he asks. His heart beats hard against his chest. He wants yet doesn’t want to hear the answer.

After a couple of seconds of hesitation, Tooru replies. “No. You?” 

Hajime shakes his head. “No.”

Their mouths meet again. 

Oikawa tugs at his shirt, trying to drag him closer, as if they’re not already pressed together at the knees, as if Iwaizumi isn’t already burning with the need to close every inch of space between them. Their kisses grow messy, frantic, all breathless gasps and teeth clashing when they move too fast, but neither of them cares.

Hajime’s grip on Tooru’s waist tightens. He lets go of the hold he had on his wrist, sliding up Tooru’s arm, over his shoulder, then into his stupidly soft hair, gripping just hard enough to make Oikawa whimper into his mouth.

That sound. God.

It shoots straight down Hajime’s spine, makes his fingers twitch, makes him want.

Oikawa shifts suddenly, moving out of his grip, and before Iwaizumi can process what’s happening, he’s crawling into his lap, straddling him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

Iwaizumi groans as their crotches brush, and his hands naturally fall to the other boy’s hips. 

“Oikawa—”

“Shh.” He cups his face, tilting his chin up before capturing his lips again, hips settling over his thighs. His weight is solid, grounding, and Hajime is so fucked.

The kiss deepens instantly. Oikawa is still trying to show off, still kissing him slow and teasing like he has the upper hand, but Iwaizumi can feel the way his fingers tremble against his jaw, the way his hips twitch like he can’t quite keep still.

He’s not as in control as he wants to be.

Iwaizumi pulls him closer, grips him tighter. He’s breathing heavy now, chest rising and falling against Oikawa’s, head tilting back as the setter mouths at his jaw, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses down the side of his neck.

It’s too much, yet it’s not enough.

Fuck it.

He pushes Tooru.

The force of it knocks him off balance, and he lets out a startled gasp as he falls onto his back, arms flailing slightly before Hajime is on him again, hovering over him, pinning him down.

Oikawa looks up at him, wide-eyed and flushed, lips swollen from kissing, breathing uneven. His hair is all messed up, and his skin glistens from sweat—from the weather or their activities or both, it’s hard to say. He’s the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, and he wants to devour him. 

Hajime stares at him for half a second before he loses it.

He crashes down, claiming his mouth again, kissing him harder, deeper, fingers sliding under his shirt, nails dragging against the sensitive skin of his waist. Oikawa shudders, arching into his touch, gasping against his lips.

“Hajime,” he pants, hands fisting into the fabric of his shirt.

Iwaizumi swears under his breath. He wants to hear that again. Need it like he needs breathing. 

So he rolls his hips down against the other’s, slow and deliberate, until Oikawa chokes on a gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Iwa-chan!”

Hajime drags his mouth along Tooru’s jaw, nipping at his skin before sucking a mark near his ear that won’t be easy to hide with his hair. 

Oikawa exhales sharply, legs instinctively wrapping around Hajime’s waist. He grinds up, chasing friction, his hands slipping under Iwaizumi’s shirt, fingers splaying over his back. 

It’s messy, desperate, and it feels so, so good.

Oikawa tilts his head back, exposing more of his neck, and Iwaizumi takes advantage of it. He presses open-mouthed kisses to his pulse point and moves lower to his collarbone. He sucks another mark there, reveling in the way Tooru trembles with need beneath him, the way his breath hitches. 

And then the door slides open.

“Well, well, well.”

The voice is unbearably smug, and both of them freeze.

Hajime’s stomach drops.

Oikawa, still pinned beneath him, blinks up at him in sheer panic before snapping his head toward the door.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa are standing there with the biggest grins on their faces. Tooru is pretty sure he hasn’t seen them smile like that, even after winning a tough match. 

Matsukawa whistles. “Damn. So this is what kids call studying these days?”

Hanamaki nods, feigning deep contemplation. “I always knew you guys took your academics seriously, but this is a whole other level.”

Iwaizumi wants to die.

“Kindaichi owes the rest of the team so much money,” Issei says.

“Oh yeah,” Takahiro agrees. “I’ll text him right now to let him know.”

“Don’t!” Oikawa screams. “Get out!”

“Can’t,” Matsukawa says, too cheerful. “We just took a whole train ride here, remember?”

Hanamaki grins. “Yeah. To study. For exams.”

“Besides, your lovely mother let us in. What are we going to tell her if you kick us out so soon?” 

Oikawa goes rigid. “Oh. Right.”

Silence.

Hajime is still hovering on top of Tooru, and just now it hits him how compromising their position is. Oikawa is under him, legs still loosely wrapped around his waist, both of them looking thoroughly kissed out and very much not studying.

Hanamaki tilts his head. “You guys gonna keep making out, or should we get started on integrals?”

Matsukawa smirks. “I mean, we’re cool either way, but if you’re gonna keep going, at least have the decency to tell us so we can, I don’t know, go study in the spare room or something.”

Iwaizumi springs off of Oikawa like he’s been burned. “We were not—”

“Dude, we literally saw you,” Issei deadpans.

Hajime clenches his jaw, his face burning. Tooru, still lying on the floor, exhales heavily and drapes an arm over his eyes.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbles. “Let’s just—” He sighs again, slapping his hands down on the tatami mat. “Let’s just fucking study.”

Takahiro and Issei exchange a look before strolling further into the room, as if they didn’t just walk in on their best friends eating each other’s faces.

“Cool,” Hanamaki says, plopping down in front of the table. 

Matsukawa hums, sitting beside him. “Just try not to make those noises again while we’re going over derivatives, alright?”

Hanamaki smirks. “Yeah. If I hear anything close to what we just walked in on, I’m calling my mom to pick me up.”

Iwaizumi groans into his hands.

Oikawa laughs, sitting up. He looks way too smug for the predicament they are in. “Aw, Iwa-chan,” he teases, crawling closer to him and patting his shoulder. “Was I that good?” He bats his eyelashes.

Iwaizumi shoves him, his face burning.

Matsukawa just sighs and looks at the roof, as if praying. “Man, this is gonna be the worst study session ever.”