Iwaizumi’s mother calls Tooru at six in the morning. “Tooru, dear, would you please excuse Hajime in school? He won’t be coming. He’s… presenting.”

Tooru can’t focus in school. He messes up all his tosses during practice, and when training is finally over, he runs to Iwaizumi’s house as fast as he can. His mother hasn’t said whether he’s presented alpha or omega, but that doesn’t matter. Tooru’s been through this shit one year ago and he knows that it’s bad, that a good friend and physical comfort (like long cuddling) can help.

When he knocks, Iwaizumi’s mother opens quickly. “There you are. I made some tea and sandwiches, could you take it upstairs? He’s not feeling very well.” She smiles, but there’s worry in her eyes. Tooru bows down politely before taking the tray she hands him. The door to Iwaizumi’s room is closed but there’s a sweet, honey-soft and warm scent curling from underneath the door, making Tooru’s skin crawl wonderfully. Omega. Somehow, he’s unsurprised.

“Iwa-chan, it’s me. Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi’s voice sounds exhausted and quiet. Tooru swallows and takes a deep breath, focusing himself onto the warm scent of his best friend. He’s glad that presenting isn’t as horrible as their teachers sometimes try to tell them. Just because he’s an alpha, he won’t jump Iwaizumi like some animal.

“Alright, coming in.” Tooru manages to push the door handle down with his elbow and navigates himself and the tray into the room. Iwaizumi’s curled up inside a nest of blankets, only his face peeking out. His cheeks are dark red, eyes half-lidded and tired. Tooru feels pity rise in his chest. Presenting is exhausting, annoying, and it hurts. He sits by Iwaizumi’s side and carefully reaches out, hand stopping before Iwaizumi’s chest.

“May I hug you? Y’know, I told my mum that I’d stay here. If you want to cuddle, or just want me to sit here – I’m going to leave if that’s better for you, too – “

“Come here already, jeez,” Iwaizumi grumbles and one of his hand appears, pulling Tooru into a firm, warm hug. He’s shaking, sweaty and in pain, and Tooru feels his instincts kick in. “There, there. It will be fine. We can watch movies all night, okay? And I’ll get you new tea when you’re too weak, Iwa-chan.”

“I’m not weak.” Iwaizumi buries his face into Tooru’s neck. His fingers dig into Tooru’s back, blunt nails scratching a bit, but it’s okay. Tooru struggles a bit to lie down, letting Iwaizumi drape himself across him. “I hope it’s over quickly,” Iwaizumi whispers into his neck. “But – are you really gonna stay?”

“Of course,” Tooru says. “I won’t leave you alone. I’m here.” And Iwaizumi smiles. He falls asleep on Tooru, who pets his hair and keeps him warm.

“You’re late.” Kageyama grumbles when Hinata comes running out of the locker room, scarf hanging off his neck and almost down to the floor. His cheeks are strangely red, and Kageyama isn’t sure why Hinata looks like he’s just seen a ghost. “You okay there?”

“Yeah! I mean – no!” Hinata stops sharp in front of him, eyes wide and hands already rising to gesture wildly. Kageyama sighs and listens to Hinata’s blabbering while gently tucking the red scarf around Hinata’s neck. “Careful, you’ll get cold.”

Hinata’s face turns a beautiful, even deeper shade of red. “I – thanks. So, what I wanted to say! Noya asked me to get him some pads because, you know. It’s that time of the month for him.” Hinata makes a vague gesture in the air, but Kageyama nods already. He hopes their sempai isn’t in too much pain. “Right, and then?”

Hinata takes a deep breath. Kageyama feels him snuggle against his waist, and they slowly begin to walk. “Well,” his small boyfriend finally says. “He – when I returned, Noya was kissing… Asahi. Really kissing, with tongue and such.”

Kageyama stops. “Oh.” – “Do you think we could – I mean, like, when I visit you next time – uh. F-forget it,” Hinata stutters and wrestles out of Kageyama’s tentative hug, nose red and cheeks an adorable crimson. But just before his boyfriend can dart away like some wild cat, Kageyama catches his collar.

“Wahh, I’m sorryI’msorry Kageyama, don’t – “

“I think I wanna try that,” Kageyama whispers into Hinata’s hair when he pulls him into a hug. “I wanna kiss you like that. But only you. Nobody else. It looks weird on tv and when other people do it, but – “

“With you, it’s okay, right?” Hinata beams, and Kageyama smiles back. There’s only one person who understands him like that.

‘Soultouch.’ – fic. iwaoi.

Iwaizumi Hajime / Oikawa Tooru.

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 8,762

Rating: General Audiences

Characters: Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa Tooru, Kunimi Akira, Kindaichi Yuutarou, Nekomata Yasufumi

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Touch-Starved, Touchy-Feely

Summary:

Maybe Hajime’s just always adored him, in secret and silence, deep down in the bottom of his whole being.
Maybe it’s always been like this and he just didn’t know.

And that’s why he can’t touch Tooru anymore.

‘Soultouch.’ – fic. iwaoi.

Carrying Him Home. || BokuAka.

The accident itself isn’t even that bad. Well, sure, it really hurst when the cyclist hits Akaashi with full force as he’s crossing the street. The pain jolting through his elbow as it hits the concrete is pretty damn horrible, too. Feeling the bone break doesn’t make it better. But in the end, it could’ve been a car, and after a long afternoon of check-ups and worried parents, Akaashi is allowed to leave the hospital with a cast and a light shock.

It’s Bokuto’s reaction that changes everything.

Akaashi’s parents make the mistake to call him the same evening and tell him everything. So when Akaashi comes to school the next day, Bokuto immediately rushes towards him and lifts him off his feet, tears running down his face. “You could’ve died, Akaashi! Are you alright, how are you feeling, let me carry your bag – oh God, please, please don’t ever die, you can never cross the street alone again, Akaashi. Akaashi.”

“It’s fine, Bokuto-san.” But honestly, Akaashi kind of didn’t expect that it would be that easy. What still surprises him is how Bokuto copes with his broken arm.

Bokuto starts to carry him.

On his back, like a bride, even slung around his hip that one time for a few seconds, before Akaashi hits a book over his head and scrambles back to his feet with flaming red cheeks. When he asks Bokuto about the carrying around, (while he’s conveniently placed in Bokuto’s arms again) head resting against his chest in exasperated submission, Bokuto blushes.

“Well!” He says and his grip around Akaashi’s knees tightens. He licks his lips, and Akaashi feels his own heart go numb with the next words.

“You carry something when you don’t want it to get hurt, right? I wanna protect you. Like, forever, if that’s okay. Akaashi? You are really red right now. …it’s cute. I’ll protect you, Akaashi.”

Kageyama doesn’t say ‘I love you’. Hinata doesn’t understand, at first, why he can’t just do it – it’s easy, isn’t it? After all, Hinata tells him all the time, whenever they kiss, their fingers laced up, Kageyama’s mouth soft and shy against his own because they don’t need to go further than this yet.

Hinata doesn’t understand – until another spike hits him in the skull during a game, and the world goes black before his eyes.

He finally understands when he wakes up under a white ceiling, his mouth dry, and a warm, sweaty hand clings to his own.

Hinata understands that there’s other ways to say it when he listens to Kageyama cry, face buried into Hinata’s hand inside his own.

“Please be okay. Don’t leave me, please, please come back to me. I can’t play volleyball without you. I’ll buy you all the meat buns, you dumbass, but come back to me and spike my tosses and steal my milk and God, Hinata. Hinata.
…Shouyou. I promise, I’ll make you invulnerable this time.”

And somehow, Hinata doesn’t need I love yous anymore, when he can squeeze Kageyama’s hand and see how his dark eyes light up with fireworks inside when he looks at him.

“Everything is ruined.” Oikawa falls onto the bed, buries his face in a pillow and whines dramatically before curling into a pitiful ball of shivers.

Hajime sighs. This is a tough one. He sits down besides Oikawa and runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, it’s okay. The pain will pass. What are you so worried about? It’s just – “

“Because I look hideous and it hurts, and I have to wear an ugly teeth protector when I play volleyball!” Oikawa drops himself into Hajime’s lap, arms wrapping around his waist. His cheeks are swollen, mouth red and chapped from the hour-long procedure of metal wire and plates being framed onto his teeth.

“It’s just braces,” Hajime says and runs his fingers through Oikawa’s soft, soft hair. He’s still pretty even when he’s whiny, when he curls around Hajime like a love-craving puppy and looks at him with round, dark eyes. But there’s real worry in Oikawa’s glance, and he licks his bruised lips before he asks:

“They’re ugly. And – maybe you won’t kiss me anymore, with all that metal…”

Hajime rolls his eyes. That’s so typical. “Hey, look at me.” He’s gentle when he lifts Oikawa’s chin, and then his fingertips trace the softness of Oikawa’s lips, thumb resting against the heart-shaped bow below his nose. “You’re really fuckin’ beautiful, okay? And I’d even kiss you if I cut my tongue on all that metal in your mouth. So stop crying. You’ll be fine.”

Oikawa blinks. His eyes are wide, dark and blown-out from wonder, and he slowly touches Hajime’s chest where his heart beats wild and nervous. “You,” Oikawa says. He smiles. “You… really love me, don’t you.”

Yes, Hajime thinks. Yes, god yes. More than I could ever tell you, more than you should ever know, with all you have and are and will be.

“Yo, ace. I heard that your star setter is a fuckin’ fag. ’s that true? You let a gay dude play by your side?”

The game hasn’t even started and Hajime is already pissed off. The other team’s setter grins at him when they line up before the net, throwing Oikawa a disgusted look.

Hajime takes a deep breath and shakes his head at Kunimi who looks like he’s ready to climb over the net and commit murder. “Wait. Hey, Oikawa. C’mere for a sec before you serve.”

“What is it, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa jogs over, volleyball under his arm, giving the referee a short gesture to wait for a moment. As soon as he’s reached the net, Hajime grabs him by the collar and pulls Oikawa right against his chest.

“I sure hope he’s gay,” Hajime tells the other setter whose face is going bloodless and pale. “Because if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be my boyfriend and I couldn’t do this.”

The entire gym breaks into chaos when Hajime presses his lips against Oikawa’s, and the other setter looks ready to faint when Hajime’s tongue slips over Oikawa’s soft mouth for a split second.

It doesn’t matter that the referee has to give a loud warning whistle and threatens to throw Hajime off the court if he does it again. The other team looks uncomfortable, and their expressions quickly change to terrified when Hajime lets go of Oikawa, grins, and says loud enough for everyone to hear:

“Let’s destroy them.”

And Oikawa stands at the back line, smiles, fingers gently rotating the ball before he throws it up in the air. “With fucking pleasure.”

“So,” Hinata suddenly says on the way home after practice, “did you know that everyone thinks we’re bonded?”

Kageyama merely raises a brow at him. “Why? ‘cause I’m the poor alpha who has to put up with your shitty spikes and receives – “

“Hey! I’ve gotten better, but you’re still a shitty guy!” Hinata jabs his elbow into Kageyama ribs and earns himself a warm hand on his head, squeezing his skull. “Ow – no, ouch! Alright, fine, sorry. No, because – well, Yachi said that I smell like you. That my scent’s kinda… Hinata-omega-plus-Kageyama now.”

Kageyama stops in his tracks. “Oh.” – “Yeah.” There’s a moment of silence before Hinata takes a deep breath. “I mean… we – we are kinda touching all the time, y’know. Even if it’s just you pulling at my hair. I like it better when you ruffle it, by the way – “

“Would anything change?” Kageyama reaches out and takes Hinata’s hand. His cheeks are red, glowing in the light of the lazy afternoon sun. “I mean. Bonding’s just… wearing each other’s scent. And you already steal my jackets, and I take your scarf all the time. We wouldn’t really be anything else – “

A radiant, warm smile spreads over Hinata’s face. “Well, one thing would be different. I could do this.” Kageyama wants to ask what he means, but then Hinata’s already kissing him, right on the lips, soft and shy and with a tint of candy that he ate earlier.

And then he’s running off, jumping onto his bike with a cry of “see you tomorrow!”, before his silhouette vanishes on the road up the mountain. Kageyama stands there, dumbfounded, and tries not to grin like an idiot. If bonding means that he can keep wearing Hinata’s scarf and staying by his side, then he’s hold his hand all day so their scents melt together, and Hinata kisses him like that again.

“Really, Kageyama,” Hinata says during a training break, glancing up at his setter. “I don’t understand why you hate ‘King of the Court’ so much. You’re not even a tyrant anymore, right? It’s such a cool name.”

Kageyama looks at his small ace, and says without hesitation: “I wouldn’t mind being a King if you were my Queen.”

The gym of Karasuno has never been that quiet. That is, until Hinata’s face has finished changing from a pale ash-grey to a brilliant crimson, and he mumbles something about ‘stupid royalty’ before darting back onto the court.
Kageyama’s blush rivals Hinata’s when he follows, the tiniest smile on his lips.

“I broke up with him.”

Hajime’s fingers still on Oikawa’s mouth. The cut on his lip is fresh and blooms dark-red, a drop of blood running down Hajime’s fingertip. He’s shaking when he wipes it off and smears white, innocent ointment onto it. “Finally,” he says. His chest aches, heart burning like steel and war and fucking liquid darkness. Oikawa smiles. His mouth is bruised, neck full of bite marks. Hajime knows that he likes it gentle, because he’s told him, and that man has never treated him like he deserves.

“It’s good that you broke up,” Hajime says and carefully takes Oikawa’s chin, turning his head to look at his bruised eye. “He wasn’t good enough. You could have anyone, you know. Not that fucking asshole. I could beat him up – “

“You have no idea, Hajime.” And Oikawa’s voice… cracks. Tears spill over his cheeks, silent, salt and blood, and his fists crash into Hajime’s chest to grip his shirt.

“You think I could – you’re an idiot. God, you’re so dumb. There’s only one stupid thing that I want, but you know what? I won’t get it, because it’s me who’s not good enough! You’re – always here, and shit, you’re so good at heart, and I’ve always just wanted – you. You treat me like I’m a goddamn jewel or something, like I’m precious and bright and you call me things like brilliant, but I could never be enough, never be yours – “

Hajime kisses his forehead. Tooru stares, eyes wide, his fingers clenched into angry fists – and then, a dark sob breaks out of his throat. He falls into Hajime’s arms, rips him so close that their chests collide and Hajime can hear his warm heart beat.

“Idiot,” Hajime whispers. His lips are soft on Tooru’s forehead, his hair, and then finally, his shivering crying mouth. “Idiot. You idiot. You – you can have the world at your feet, and you’ve always had me there as well.” His fingers find the cut on Tooru’s lip, tracing it through their kiss, and Hajime hopes that he can heal it.