Part 2

~~Akaashi~~

Keiji figured Iwaizumi-san storming out of the café was his first sign that he should be leaving. He did actually have homework to do. So, like any good college student in love, he ignored said sign and continued to listen to Bokuto, who was gesturing wildly about how he'd completely "obliteratedthe block, Akashee. It was brilliant. I wish you were there!" in their latest practice.

It wasn't until Kuroo was running out of the café after Daishou, and Terushima was pursing his lips awkwardly that he realized his mistake. Bokuto was still talking to him—and only him—animatedly, seemingly completely oblivious. If it wasn't for Terushima, they would have been alone, which would have been something Keiji didn't want to happen. Or well, would have been bad if it did happen.

"That was exciting," Terushima said, his head still turned toward the door after Kuroo and Daishou. Keiji wondered if he'd known about Kuroo and Daishou before. Even he had only really had suspicions. Daishou had a habit of keeping his cards pretty close to his chest, and Daishou just wasn't something Kuroo talked about.

"I should probably be going," Keiji said. "I do actually have homework to do."

"Are you coming to the game this weekend?" Terushima asked, standing with along with Keiji. Keiji bit his lip. Was there a way to say no without being a complete ass? It wasn't that he had plans, it was just that hanging out with Terushima tended to end badly.

The last time he'd seen Terushima, it had been a normal study session at Kenma and Keiji's dorm. And he'd expected it to stay that way. But somehow, Kenma had started cleaning his room, and in the five minutes Terushima had headed to the bathroom, and Keiji had went to see if Kenma needed anything, and then there had been a toppled bookcase and Keiji falling on top of Kenma right as Terushima came to check the noise. Terushima still insisted they were kissing, and Keiji didn't even want to know who he'd told that tidbit of information to.

"Are you coming?" Bokuto asked. He trailed after them out of the café, perking up at the very idea of Keiji attending one of his game, and it was such a bad idea. Bokuto playing Volleyball was so… enthralling. He was beautiful. He drew everything in around him, making it impossible to look away.

It had been too long since Keiji had gotten to see him play. Since Keiji had gotten to set for him and watch the ripple of muscles play under Bokuto's shirt.

It was such a bad idea.

Bokuto's eyes were wide and hopeful, golden in the afternoon light and brighter than the sun.

"I'd love to," Keiji said, and Bokuto whooped into the air. Keiji bit his lip to hide his smile, and Bokuto's arm was a brush of fire against his own when they touched.

~~Iwaizumi~~

Hajime found Oikawa at the park. He sat on a swing, his feet dragging against the ground. He was wearing his alien sweatshirt, the sleeves falling over his hands, and he hadn't even bothered to style his hair, the brown tangles falling across his forehead.

"I'm surprised you didn't break into the gym," Hajime said, settling down onto the swing next to him. Oikawa's lips twitched, his eyes still resolutely fixed onto the ground.

Hajime had checked the gym first, only then coming to the park, and he wasn't at all surprised to find Oikawa looking so melancholy. He only came to the park when he was especially upset about something.

"I didn't want to get benched," Oikawa answered. "Coach seemed pretty serious about us not practicing."

Hajime bit his tongue. Sometimes, Oikawa was so transparent. If he'd really wanted to practice, he would have been in that gym. He just didn't want to admit to Hajime that he was upset.

"So, I had lunch with Daishou," Hajime said. Oikawa's hands tightened on the chain of his swing.

"That's a weird thing for you two to do," Oikawa answered.

"Especially since you were supposed to be spending the day with him," Hajime said.

"I didn't say that," Oikawa answered, turning his face away.

"You—"

"You just assumed," he interrupted. His jaw clenched, the pale line of his throat standing out against the afternoon sunlight. "I'm sure you were busy with Bokuto anyway."

"What—" Hajime stopped himself, forcing his voice down to a reasonable pitch. He was missing something here. The blatant accusation Daishou pointed his way, the way Oikawa still wouldn't look at him, the way he'd brought up Bokuto as if that somehow explained him not telling Hajime about his romantic life…. "What does Bokuto have to do with this?"

"Nothing," Oikawa answered. He kicked his foot across the ground, the momentum swinging him backward, and the new angle let Hajime see how red his eyes were.

"Hey." Hajime stood from his swing, moving in front of Oikawa. He grabbed the chains of Oikawa's swing, stopping his momentum. They were so close now, Oikawa's knees brushing against Hajime's hips, his feet against his ankles, and Oikawa still stubbornly kept his face turned away. "Oikawa…" Hajime trailed off.

He didn't know what to do. They'd never been like this. Even when Oikawa had been pouting or upset or they'd been fighting, he'd never been so determined to keep Hajime out, and Hajime didn't know how to break through.

"Did something happen with Daishou?" he asked, and Oikawa's lips twisted.

"No," Oikawa said. He shifted against the swing, his legs brushing against Hajime's. Wind whistled through his hair, blowing the snarls across his face. He was so beautiful, and Hajime wished he could just reach out and hold him, kiss him, tell him he loved him.

"Oikawa, something's wrong," Hajime said. "I just want—"

"You," Oikawa interrupted.

"What?"

"You're what's wrong," Oikawa said. He hiccupped suddenly, turning his head enough to catch Hajime's eyes. "You and Bokuto and your stupid relationship, and I love you, and I just want you to love me back, but you don't, and I thought that was okay, but you went and got a boyfriend and—"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Hajime interrupted. Oikawa shook his head, tears following the already wet tracks down his face as Hajime tried to process what he was saying. He couldn't stop the loop of I love you from running through his head, over and over and over. "You love me?" he asked. Oikawa covered his mouth, something suspiciously like a sob muffled by his hand.

"You think I'm dating Bokuto?" Hajime asked, and Oikawa turned his head away, his hand still tight over his mouth.

Hajime laughed. It was maybe not the most appropriate reaction, but he was so relieved, and it was so ridiculous, and only Oikawa could jump to such a conclusion when he was dating—

Hajime stopped laughing abruptly, nausea running hot through his stomach at the thought.

"But what about Daishou?" he asked, ignoring Oikawa's teary-eyed glare.

"What about him?" Oikawa answered.

"Aren't you guys…" Hajime trailed off as Oikawa blinked up at him.

"We're friends. I've slept with him," he said. He turned his head away, his face turning bright red. "He's not you."

"So… there's not…" Hajime swallow, his throat feeling impossibly tight. "There's nothing going on between you?"

"I don't want to talk about this," Oikawa snapped. He shoved against Hajime's chest, his feet digging into the ground, pushing his swing away and putting Hajime in an awkward position of trying to hold onto the chain while hovering over Oikawa on his tiptoes.

"Oikawa…" Hajime said, but Oikawa just slipped from the seat, ducking under his arm and walking away like they hadn't been in the middle of a conversation. "Hey!" Hajime called, trying to wrench himself from the swing without falling over. He didn't understand. Hadn't they just confessed? Weren't they supposed to make out or something now that he knew Hajime wasn't dating—

Oh.

"Oikawa, I'm not dating Bokuto," Hajime called, and the swing smacked him in the side, the plastic seat bouncing painfully off his ribs. Oikawa froze. He turned horribly slowly, his eyes bright red and his hair a tangled mess. He was still crying, those awful snotty tears that had always made Hajime bend to whatever he wanted.

"What?"

"I love you too," Hajime told him.

Oikawa blinked at him once, twice, three times, his face going slack. It looked a lot like he was short circuiting, and Hajime was really beginning to consider the possibility that he'd somehow misinterpreted everything and broken Oikawa.

"Oikawa…" he started, taking a step forward, only to have Oikawa let out a loud sound, something between shriek and sob, his voice echoing off the trees around them. A woman walking her daughter nearby sped up, her eyes widening, and Hajime staggered a step back as Oikawa launched himself at Hajime, his face pressed into Hajime's neck, wet and hot as he continued to sob and mutter some barely coherent exclamations of joy.

Hajime threw Oikawa's underwear on the floor and leaned over to kiss him. Oikawa arched up into him, making some combination of moan and whine that shot straight through Hajime. They were both already naked, and even the way they were lightly rubbing together was ecstasy, but Hajime wanted more. He wanted—Damn, he wanted everything.

He pulled his mouth away, and Oikawa gasped, baring his throat. Hajime lowered his head immediately, licking a stripe across the skin before biting down, and Oikawa moaned, his hands clamping down in Hajime's hair like he wanted to hold him there.

Hajime traced his fingers along Oikawa's hip, following the curve of his hipbone before moving to wrap his hand around his dick but Oikawa pulled on his hair, making him lift his head.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong," Oikawa said. He was breathless, his voice hoarse and his eyes glazed, and he squirmed under Hajime. "I just want—I wanted," he flicked his eyes down to Hajime's length and groaned. "I want you."

"Yeah?" Hajime asked.

"Yeah," Oikawa answered. "I want all of you. I want to feel you."

Hajime couldn't have resisted if he wanted to. He leaned down, slotting his lips against Oikawa's and lost himself in the kiss. It was perfect. Oikawa was perfect. They were perfect. They should have done this ages ago.

"I want that too," he said, and Oikawa whined, spreading his legs further to fit around Hajime's hips. Hajime couldn't have resisted that if he wanted to.

"Lube? Condoms?" he asked.

"Bottom drawer, right side," Oikawa panted. He threw an arm over his face, his chest flushed bright red, and his cock leaking onto his stomach. He looked so beautiful. Hajime wanted to him so much.

He scrambled off to the side, digging around in the bottom drawer of Oikawa's nightstand before finally finding the bottle of lube, his finger closing around the container with a relief he didn't know he could feel for an inanimate object. He plucked two condoms out with it, setting them on the bed beside him as he knelt back between Oikawa's legs. He ran his hand up Oikawa's thigh, reveling in the way Oikawa trembled at the touch, at the way Oikawa whined when his fingers dipped between his cheeks, teasing the puckered skin of his entrance.

"Hajime," Oikawa said, his voice high and needy, and Hajime had to squeeze the base of his cock as a fresh wave of arousal washed over him.

He squirted lube onto his fingers, throwing the bottle off to the side and wrenching Oikawa's hips up into his lap. Oikawa wriggled, but Hajime gripped his hips, holding him open, his legs splayed wide as he reached down and slid a finger into Oikawa.

Oikawa clenched around him, his heels digging into the mattress on either side of Hajime's ass, and Hajime couldn't wait to be inside him. He pushed his finger into Oikawa and then back out, pushing and pull, basking in the warmth.

"More," Oikawa said, his voice muffled by his arm over his face. Hajime leaned down, sucking on his hip bone as he slotted another finger into Oikawa.

Oikawa made some frankly beyond astounding sound that was somewhere between a mewl and a whine, his hips grinding down and his head thrashing, and Hajime pushed down on what must have been his prostate again. Oikawa didn't disappoint. He cried out, his left-hand clenching into the sheets, and his chest blushing even brighter. His cock was bright red, leaking painfully against his stomach. Hajime bit down on his hip, pushing another finger into Oikawa.

"Hajime," Oikawa cried out, thrashing against Hajime's tongue licking his hip and his three fingers pressing his prostate. "Please, please. I need you, please."

Hajime pulled his fingers out, and Oikawa's fingers tightened further into the sheets. Hajime reach for the condom, sliding it on impatiently before lining himself up, his hands tight on Oikawa's hips and he leaned over him.

"Tooru," he said. Oikawa made a muffled sniffling sound into his arm. "Tooru, look at me." Oikawa shook his head, and Hajime rubbed the head of his cock against Oikawa's entrance, teasing. Oikawa trembled, his arm hovering for a second like he was thinking about it. "I want to see you, Tooru." That seemed to do the trick. Oikawa lifted his arm, letting it drop from his face, his hand resting on Hajime's thigh.

His face was bright red, his hair standing up in odd angles and his eyes puffy with tears running down the side of his face. No wonder he'd wanted his face hidden. Oikawa always hated other people seeing him cry.

"You're gorgeous," Hajime groaned, leaning his forehead against Oikawa's collarbone as he pushed in. Oikawa moaned, his hand tight on Hajime's thigh.

He was seated in Oikawa faster than he thought he'd be, the heat and tightness driving him near madness. He tried to hold himself still, let Oikawa adjust, but Oikawa just rolled his hips and whined, and Hajime was lost. He pulled out, shoving back in harder than he meant to, but Oikawa was crying out, rolling his hips, tears in his eyes, Hajime's name on his lips like a prayer.

It really didn't take them very long to come. Hajime reached for Oikawa's cock, and suddenly Oikawa was coming, Hajime following him over, and then they were both panting, Hajime draped over Oikawa and wanting nothing more than to stay there forever.

~~Daishou~~

"What?" Suguru asked. "No. Absolutely not."

Oikawa pouted at him. He had wedged himself just far enough in Suguru's doorway to make it impossible to close the door in his face, no matter how much he wanted to. No matter how much Oikawa deserved to have the door slammed on both his face and his stupid boyfriend. Iwaizumi. What had even possessed the two of them to come bother him?

"Come on, Dai-chan," Oikawa said, lilting his voice in that way he thought made him attractive. "It'll be fun!" Iwaizumi glared behind him, flexing his biceps ever so slightly. Yeah, message received.

"No, it won't," Suguru answered. He pushed against the door, but Oikawa wiggled further inside, leaning against his doorframe. Suguru would have to hurt him to close the door now, and he really didn't fancy getting beaten up by Iwaizumi.

"But you like watching Volleyball, and both teams will be really good," Oikawa said. "You won't want to miss it."

Suguru narrowed his eyes. What had possessed them to come bother him? Oikawa was being too insistent for this to just be one of his usual whims, and he should have been wrapped around Iwaizumi, riding the high of realizing his love was requited. Why was he trying to get Suguru to come watch his game when he'd never cared about that before?

"Why won't I want to miss it?"

"Well…" Oikawa flicked his eyes back to Iwaizumi, and yes, definitely up to something.

"We're not leaving until you come," Iwaizumi said.

"Ah!" Oikawa said, springing on the argument. "Yes. So, just make it easy for yourself and agree now."

"What if I never agree, and you miss your game?" Suguru asked.

"Dai-chan doesn't want to be responsible for ruining my career, does he?" Oikawa asked, and Iwaizumi flexed his biceps again. Suguru sighed. This was such a bad idea.

Akaashi wasn't hard to find in the stands. Even when he wasn't trying, he stood out in a, 'I'm ridiculously attractive and I know it and I don't really care' kind of way. He nodded to Suguru before promptly turning back to the court, his eyes following Bokuto.

It was almost depressing, how utterly gone on Bokuto Akaashi was. How oblivious Bokuto seemed to be. Suguru still distinctly remembered the way Akaashi had frozen, his face the picture of shocked betrayal when Suguru had mentioned that Oikawa was hanging around him because he was upset Iwaizumi was dating Bokuto. The way Akaashi had recoiled from his phone the next time it'd pinged.

Suguru slid into the seat beside Akaashi and decided to take pity on him. He did deserve to know the truth, especially since it was Suguru who had messed things up for him.

"He's not actually dating Iwaizumi," he said.

"What?" Akaashi asked. He tore his eyes away from the court. The players were just beginning to line up, the reedy sound of the referee's whistle sounding throughout the gym as he asked them to bow for each other.

"Oikawa was wrong apparently," Suguru said, thinking back to Oikawa's annoyingly descriptive explanation of Iwaizumi and his misunderstandings. It would have been more amusing to listen to if he thought there was any chance of anything of the kind happening to him. "There's nothing between them."

Oikawa was just stepped back for his serve, his smirk visible from the stands. Iwaizumi yelled something over to him, but Oikawa just smirked wider, the ball balanced carefully in his hand.

"Then why…?" Akaashi trailed off, his eyes lingering back on Bokuto and looking for all the world as if he didn't even notice anyone else on the court.

Bokuto grinned up at the stands, and Suguru looked away from all of them, focusing on the way their opponents were settling down into a defensive position, nervous expressions lingering in the back of their eyes for having to deal with Oikawa's serve right off the bat. He would give anything to be them instead of lingering in the middle of everyone's happily ever after.

They didn't talk much after that. Occasionally Akaashi would make some observation about Bokuto or the other team, usually Bokuto. About halfway through the second set, Bokuto got subbed out for Terushima. He'd been blocked three times in a row, even his hair wilting in the lights of the gym.

Iwaizumi smacked him across the shoulder as he went out while Terushima let out an entirely inappropriate exclamation of joy for being put in. Oikawa twisted his fingers, flicking his hair out of his face with that too perfect look of unconcern on his face.

Then he botched the next set, sending the ball off center where Iwaizumi had to stretch his arm out awkwardly, and then Iwaizumi was yelling again, and Oikawa was staring at him like he was the sun or something, and the coach called a timeout, and Iwaizumi was still yelling, Oikawa already looking more grounded, almost completely back to normal like the only thing he needed was Iwaizumi, and Kuroo was laughing at them, his head tilted back, showcasing the pale outline of his throat and his dark hair falling across his face, and it hurt so damn much to watch.

Akaashi's fingers brushed against his arm, his eyes warm and understanding, and somehow that made it even worse.

They got it together pretty quickly after that, and Bokuto was back in by the third set. It was a good game. The other school was good, but they weren't good enough to hold back Bokuto and Iwaizumi's offensive power, Oikawa's strategy, and Kuroo's defense. It had been a losing battle.

"Well, I'm off," Suguru said, hardly waiting for the teams to bow to each other.

"Goodbye then," Akaashi answered. He flicked his eyes across Suguru's face, his disapproval clear but he didn't say anything.

Suguru stood, stepping around people as he climbed out of the stands and made his way out of the building. People were just beginning to creep into the hallways by the time he made it to the entranceway, and he wanted to be gone. This had been such a bad idea. He didn't know why he'd let Oikawa talk him into this.

He'd know it was a bad idea to watch Kuroo play. He was so… so… Kuroo when he played. Horrible and obnoxious and provocative, and Suguru was so fucking in love with him it was unfair. He was such a good player. It was unfair how he managed to corral the other hitters into his trap. It was unfair how he smirked when the play had gone his way or how his eyes shone or his fingers turned bright red after the ball hit them. It was so unfair how utterly in love with him Suguru was.

~~Bokuto~~

Koutarou took a long drink from his bottle, his chest pleasantly burning after running and jumping the last set of the game. It had been a good game. He wished they could play again, so he could get his straight just a little sharper, and he might be able to get past that blocker.

The coach had already dismissed them, saying something about talking at practice tomorrow and to rest up, and most everyone had headed to the locker room almost immediately. Kuroo ducked his head into his locker, muttering something under his breath that Koutarou didn't catch. He'd been in a foul mood since the game had ended.

"Dude," Iwaizumi said. He slammed his locker, narrowing his eyes at Kuroo like he couldn't believe how stupid he was being. "Why don't you just go talk to him?"

"What?" Kuroo answered, pulling his head out of his locker. His hair was still plastered across his face, sweat sticking to his brow.

"Daishou," Iwaizumi said, rolling his eyes. "You might as well go talk to him."

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa said, his voice pitching up. He smacked Iwaizumi's arm. "You're supposed to be subtle."

"Subtle wasn't working," Iwaizumi answered.

They had both already showered, and Koutarou could smell Oikawa's fruity shampoo from two lockers down. He would never understand how he managed to get his hair quiet so perfect looking even after such a short shower. The one time he'd asked Iwaizumi, it had ended in an exaggerated eye roll and an emphatic exclamation that Koutarou didn't want to know.

"What are you being subtle about?" Koutarou asked.

"We're trying to set Daishou and Kuroo up," Iwaizumi said.

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa answered, and he slammed his own locker shut, glaring at Iwaizumi with a betrayed expression.

"Why would you want to do that?" Kuroo asked, his voice dropping indignantly, and Oikawa raised an eyebrow at him like he was completely unimpressed. Koutarou sort of envied the skill. He'd never been able to pull off unimpressed like Oikawa and Akaashi.

"He came all the way here to watch you, not me," Oikawa said, and Kuroo blinked at him, looking lost. "There was never anything between us, Kuroo." Oikawa sighed. "You should tell him how you feel. You know Daishou never will."

"But—"

"I'm never wrong, Kuroo," Oikawa interrupted, and Iwaizumi snorted, and Kuroo blinked at him hard, his face scrunching up hard in concentration before he was turning on his heel and almost running out the door, leaving his bag behind and still covered in sweat.

Oikawa laughed as Iwaizumi picked up his own bag. Koutarou trailed behind them as they made their way out, listening to their bickering.

"Get off," Iwaizumi said, making a face as Oikawa wound an arm around his waist, leaning heavily on him. As glad as he was that Iwaizumi and Oikawa had gotten together, he couldn't help thinking of Akaashi.

It would have been nice if Akaashi still played with him. If he could hug Akaashi after a game. If he didn't have to worry about Akaashi disappearing from his life to be with—

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi's voice interrupted his thoughts, and Koutarou jumped.

Akaashi was hovering just outside the door to the locker room, leaning against the wall like he was waiting for Koutarou. He looked as beautiful as he ever did, a black jacket pulled over a button up and nice jeans settled around his hips. He looked like he was on his way to a date, not meeting Koutarou. He looked like a model, his hair messily falling around his head like it was easy.

"Aghashi?" Koutarou said, his voice pitching up higher than he meant it too. Akaashi's lips curled up, his eyes softening in that way that meant Koutarou had particularly endeared himself to him.

"Bokuto-san, do you mind if we talk?" he asked.

"I…" Koutarou hesitated. Iwaizumi and Oikawa were already halfway gone, chattering about some ramen place they liked, and Kuroo had chased after Daishou, and Koutarou missed Akaashi. "Yeah."

Akaashi smiled a little wider and turned. He gestured for Koutarou to follow as he made his way a little further away from the locker room. Akaashi didn't lead him as far as Koutarou thought he would. He stopped just around the first corner, swinging back around to face Koutarou with the same determination in his eyes that he had when they'd been in the middle of a particularly hard game, and he'd been trying to decide who to send the ball to.

"Bokuto-san," he said. He cleared his throat, twisting his fingers in his left hand. "Would you like to go out with me?"

Koutarou felt like his brain was static, the faint crackle of dysfunction looping over and over in his mind as he tried to process what exactly Akaashi was asking.

It didn't make sense.

Akaashi liked Kenma.

Terushima had told him and Kuroo that they were together. It didn't make sense that Akaashi would want to date Koutarou when he was with Kenma….?

"…have to answer," Akaashi was saying. He had his face turned away, his eyes cast away from Koutarou's face. "Daishou just mentioned that you—" he cut himself off with a sigh, his cheeks coloring bright red. He looked embarrassed. "Nevermind."

"What?" Koutarou asked, his voice echoing along the tiles of the hallway. Akaashi jumped, his eyes wide and startled, but at least he wasn't changing his mind anymore. "But I want to date you!"

"You… do?" Akaashi asked.

"Yes!" Koutarou answered. "I thought you didn't."

"But…" Akaashi trailed off, narrowing his eyes, and Koutarou recognized his tactician mode. The one he reserved for a specially challenging problem. "Why have you been so withdrawn? And just now, you looked like you didn't want to answer."

"It doesn't make sense," Koutarou answered. "You like Kenma."

"What? No, I don't."

"But Terushima—"

"Terushima," Akaashi interrupted, his eyes narrowing even further with anger this time. "That was a misunderstanding, and I can't believe he told you about it."

"Oh," Koutarou said.

"Yes."

"So, you don't like Kenma?" he asked, and Akaashi sighed. He stepped forward, raising his hand to Koutarou's face. His fingertips with soft against Koutarou's cheek, his eyes intense and full of admiration, and it was so overwhelming having that directed at him.

"I like you, Koutarou," Akaashi said, and he stepped forward again, swaying forward on his toes with his breath warm against Koutarou's face.

"Oh," Koutarou answered, and Akaashi smiled at him, his eyes warm and his lips soft.

~~Daishou~~

Suguru leaned his chin against his palm, watching the plate of food spin around and around in his microwave. It was depressing in the way everything was to him in that moment. He jerked when his doorbell rang, turning to glare at the door. He wondered if he would have to push Oikawa down the stairs to get him to leave him alone. He wrenched open the door and—

And Kuroo stood there, panting like he'd just run from his game. He had sweat sliding down his throat, his hair sticking to his forehead completely unattractively, and Suguru was not going to cry. His eyes were not stinging. What was Kuroo even doing here?

"Why'd you run away?" Kuroo asked.

"What?" Suguru answered.

"It's just…" Kuroo swallowed, his face was vaguely green, a trickle of sweat running down his temple. "I looked up and you were gone. Didn't you...? Oikawa said… I thought you might've come to watch… you know, me?"

"What?" Suguru asked again, his voice pitched just a little too high. He'd known Oikawa was plotting something, but this just…. it didn't make sense. Kuroo thought—

His microwave beeped in the room behind him, loud and jarring, and this whole situation felt so wrong. Kuroo had run to Suguru's apartment because he wanted Suguru to have come to the game for him. But that just didn't make sense. It wasn't Suguru he wanted. It didn't matter if they'd made out against some alley. Making out wasn't going to change anything and—and—

"Suguru," Kuroo said, his voice soft, too soft. Suguru blinked the stinging behind his eyes away. He felt frozen, unable to resist as Kuroo laid a hand on his arm, his fingers gentle, rubbing soothing circles against the crease of his elbow. "Oikawa told me there was never really anything between you."

"Can't believe anything he says," Suguru answered, his voice sounding dazed. Kuroo ignored him.

"He said I should just tell you how I feel."

"He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"I love you," Kuroo said, and he sounded so damn sincere. "I have for a while."

"That's… nice," Suguru answered. He felt bewildered, his head fuzzy, still stuck in the moment of opening the door and finding Kuroo, still desperately trying not to cry. Kuroo sighed. He stepped away from Suguru's door, shaking his hair out of his face and looking for all the world like he was about to take off again, like he was just some phantom come to haunt Suguru.

Suguru jerked forward, panic surging through him as he snatched Kuroo's wrist. His nails dug into the soft skin, indenting Kuroo's flesh and pressing into his bones, and Suguru knew he was holding on too tight. Always too tight. If Kuroo wanted to leave, he should be able to let him, but the taste of hope was bitter in his mouth.

"That's it?" Suguru asked. Kuroo's brows crinkled, and he stepped forward. He was disgusting, smelly and sweaty and so, so close.

"What's it?"

"You're just going to leave now?" Suguru asked, his voice tinged with pitiful desperation. Kuroo narrowed his eyes, understanding passing over his face. He twisted his wrist, breaking Suguru's hold, but before he could move his hand, he tangled his fingers with Suguru's. His hands were callused and rough, and he squeezed Suguru's hand hard. It shouldn't have felt so good.

"You want me to stay?" he asked, his smirk arrogant and annoying and gorgeous, and Suguru surged forward, grabbing the back of Kuroo's neck with his free hand and yanking his head down so he could reach his lips.

Kuroo groaned against his mouth, his fingers digging into Suguru's waist. He shoved his tongue into Suguru's mouth, walking them backwards and slamming the door with some twist of his foot that Suguru's neighbors were probably going to complain about.

Suguru groaned as Tetsurou pressed him back against his table, his ass pressing into the wood and swaying it dangerously. Tetsurou pulled his hand out of Suguru's, running both his hands down his thigh and lifting him up and onto the table, and Suguru really should have been concerned about his furniture, but it felt so good to be pressed against Tetsurou with his legs and arms wrapped around his body. Tetsurou pulled his mouth away, panting hotly against Suguru's neck.

He yanked Suguru's shirt up, kissing across his stomach as he fumbled with the button of his pants. His breath was hot and wet, his fingers sure as they pulled Suguru's pants and underwear down, kicking them haphazardly away. The cool wood of the table was a delicious contrast to Tetsurou burning hot along his front.

He bit down on Suguru's hipbone, his tongue running across the mark he'd just made along Suguru's skin, and Suguru was going to throw something if Tetsurou didn't touch him soon. Tetsurou put a hand on his hip, holding it still and not bothering to hurry up as he mouthed up Suguru's thigh, leaving red marks imprinted into the skin.

"Tetsu," he said, his voice sounding more like a plea than the insult he'd meant, and Tetsurou's lips curved against his stomach.

He did, however, move his mouth up, kissing lightly at the base of Suguru's cock. Suguru clenched his hands against the edge of the table, determined not to react to Tetsurou's teasing. He could feel the precome collecting at the tip of his cock, his balls pressed against his skin, and Tetsurou just licked gently at his tip like—

Suguru howled, his back arching off the table as Tetsurou swallowed his cock. He bobbed his head once, his hand tightening on Suguru's hip before swallowing and taking the rest, his nose resting in Suguru's pelvic hair. He let his free hand slide under Suguru's ass, his fingers brushing between the cheeks and tantalizingly close to his hole. Tetsurou swallowed around him, his throat bobbing obscenely, his brown eyes entirely focused on Suguru, and Suguru was so close. He was so—

He jerked when Tetsurou's finger pushed against his hole, just enough to show him it was there. Tetsurou sucked hard on his cock, his finger insistent, and Suguru was gone. He cried out as he came, Tetsurou gagging and pulling off at the lack of warning. Suguru mumbled something that was supposed to be an apology but sounded more like a hum as he relaxed back onto the table.

Tetsurou was pulling himself out of his shorts anyway, jerking himself off over Suguru's stomach once, twice, three times before adding to the mess of spit and cum. He would have been annoyed if he wasn't so satisfied.

Tetsurou leaned over him, his hand planted next to Suguru's head and panted. He was so sexy like this. Smelling of sweat with one hand covered in cum and his lips covered in spit. His hair a complete wreck no matter what he did and his smirk so beyond annoying. He was gorgeous. Amazing. Suguru tightened his hands on the edges of the table, his eyes suddenly stinging. He was so damn in love with this idiot.

"Suguru?" Tetsurou asked. His eyes were soft, affectionate as he brushed his nose against Suguru's. "Tell me you want me to stay."

"Get the fuck out, you idiot," Suguru answered, and he let go of the table, clamping his hands on Tetsurou's shirt hard. He would pin him to the ground if he tried to leave. He really would. Kuroo smirked, arrogant and annoying and exquisite before leaning down, his lips hot against Suguru's.

~~Iwaizumi~~

The worst part of dating Oikawa was that the idiot now knew without a shadow of a doubt how much Hajime actually liked to be touched. It was like there was no way to escape anymore. No matter how much he grumbled or complained, Oikawa would always find an excuse to wrap his arm around Hajime or hold Hajime's hand or grab Hajime's arm.

It had been the best two weeks of his life so far.

"You guys are still in the disgusting honeymoon phase, aren't you?" Daishou asked, and he sounded disgusted, leaning back against Kuroo's arm that was draped across the back of his chair. Not that Daishou had any room to talk. Hajime couldn't even count the number of times he'd found Daishou and Kuroo making out, and there should be no reason he was anywhere near where they were getting it up.

"They are pretty disgusting," Kuroo answered, smirking as if he knew exactly what Hajime was thinking.

"We're adorable," Oikawa said, his lips forming into a pout as he pressed closer than humanly possible to Hajime in their booth. Oikawa's thigh was warm against his, Oikawa's hands wrapped around his tightly, like he never wanted to let go, and Hajime was just fine with that. He shifted his arm, ignoring Oikawa's grumble and folded it around Oikawa's waist. Oikawa relaxed into the motion, snuggling closer.

"Oh, yeah, adorable," Daishou answered, wrinkling his nose like he smelled something gross. Kuroo stole a spoonful of his Papico, and Daishou barely blinked.

"Sorry we're late," Akaashi said. He walked up to their table, dragging Bokuto behind him by his hand. "We got distracted." He leaned down to sit, the collar of his shirt shifting far enough to reveal a dark bruise across his collarbone, and Bokuto's face went bright red, his eyes locked on the mark.

"No worries," Kuroo said, winking over at him. Akaashi blinked back, looking entirely unimpressed. Oikawa snickered, his breath hot on Hajime's neck.

"You're all disgusting," Daishou decided. He took another bite of his Papico, his left-hand curling around Kuroo's fingers on the table.

~~Finish~~