hanamaki takahiro/matsukawa issei, haikyuu!! tags; princess and the frog type au??? word count; 1415
“You know,” Hanamaki mumbles quietly, peering into his unzipped rucksack as he makes his way down the crowded street. Not a lot of friends would do this. I mean, Iwaizumi probably would - after grumbling about it for forty years, and maybe Oikawa after he stopped laughing—” Hanamaki pauses and, after a second or two, decides to amend his statement. “Maybe Oikawa if he ever stops laughing. So yeah, you should be lucky you’ve got a friend as amazing as me.”
The frog in his bag - a fat little thing with beady black eyes and brown spots along its back - pokes its head out of the gap and ribbits twice indignantly, eyes squinting into something reminiscent of a lazy glare.
“Don’t give me that sass,” Hanamaki laughs, poking the frog gently on its forehead to push it further into the bag. “Like I said, I’m doing you a huge favour here, unless you want to stay like this forever?”
Another ribbit - this one a little more despondent than the last few.
“That’s more like it,” Hanamaki murmurs quietly, cheeks flushing a little as he suddenly becomes aware of the strange looks he’s receiving from passers-by, probably confused as to why he’s walking around talking animatedly to his rucksack. “Now, stay down and keep quiet until I say so and, if we’re lucky, things’ll be back to normal in no time.”
=
As it turns out, they’re not lucky because things don’t ‘get back to normal in no time’. Far from it actually.
“Twelve,” Hanamaki huffs dramatically as he drops onto his bed with a tired little moan. “I’m banned from twelve different bars because of you.”
The frog, now out of the rucksack and hopping frantically up and down on Hanamaki’s bed, ribbits sympathetically.
“Oh, don’t act like you’re sorry now,” Hanamaki snorts, lips twitching upwards into a small smile despite the far from desirable situation they’ve found themselves in. “It’s like you weren’t even trying to make a connection with anyone tonight.”
The frog ribbits three times, eyes narrowing into thin slits as if it's offended by Hanamaki’s accusation.
“And the last one was cute,” Hanamaki sniffs, apparently accurately deciphering the expression on the frog's face. “Totally your type.”
The frog ribbits again - though, this time Hanamaki can’t tell if it’s to disagree or not - before hopping onto Hanamaki’s lap and settling himself on his thighs.
“Alright, so maybe not her,” Hanamaki says with a shrug, willing to admit that maybe the short brunette with the weird laugh wasn’t the best choice. He leans forwards to scoop the frog up until they’re at eye-level with each other. “But what about the guy before her? He wasn't that bad— Or, at least he wasn’t until he started trying to squash you. Which, can I just add, is a ridiculous reaction to suddenly seeing a frog hop onto a bar. It’s not like you’re a spid—”
The frog ribbits irritably again, tongue whizzing out to smack Hanamaki gently on the hand.
“Right, right, I’m getting off topic,” Hanamaki nods apologetically before his brows pucker into a slight frown. “But Mattsun—”
The frog stiffens slightly in his hands, big black eyes blinking up at him almost nervously.
“This is really hard just trying to find someone to kiss you, let alone have it be your ‘one true love’,” Hanamaki sighs loudly before setting Matsukawa, in his froggy form, on the bedside table. “Honestly, witches really need to start updating the terms and conditions of their curses. It’s just not as easy as it used to be back in the middle ages to convince people to kiss a frog. Why couldn’t she turn you into a puppy? If you were a puppy I bet I’d have people lining up to smooch you. But no, she had to turn you into a frog, and not even a cute one.”
Matsukawa croaks loudly in annoyance, hopping off the bedside table and landing on Hanamaki’s shoulder in one fluid motion.
Hanamaki laughs quietly, shifting slightly so he can scoop Matsukawa into his arms. “Sorry, you are a cute frog. Maybe. I’m not really sure what the beauty standard is when it comes to frog. But—” He adds quickly, noting the way Matsukawa’s eyes have begun to narrow. He smiles before leaning forwards to press a quick kiss against the top of Matsukawa’s forehead, trying to ignore the thin coating of slime that sticks to his lips when he pulls away. “You are definitely cute - slimy, but cute - and I’m sure someone else’ll see that soon. Preferably before I get banned from all the bars in town.”
Matsukawa ribbits again, and Hanamaki thinks it’s meant to mean something like ‘sorry for getting you involved in all of this’.
“Don’t apologise,” Hanamaki snorts, stretching to drop Matsukawa back on top of his bedside table for the night. “You know I’d do anything for you. Now—” Hanamaki reaches behind him to flip the switch and submerge his room in darkness. “Let me sleep, I’m gonna need all my energy if we have to spend another day running around town searching for you ‘one true love’.”
=
When he wakes the next morning, he wakes to find something pressing against his back.
It’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling - in fact, it’s a very, very nice feeling - but it’s strange, because it feels like a person pressed against his back. Which is both ridiculous and worrying because he’s pretty certain he didn’t bring anyone home last night.
Hanamaki cracks open his eyes slowly, zeroing in on the strong arms he can see wrapped around his midsection. Yep, somebody is definitely spooning him right now.
He moves to leap out of bed and make a beeline for the baseball bat he keeps hidden in his closet, but the second he moves the arms around him squeeze a little tighter and a voice murmurs in his ear.
“Are you always such a morning person?”
Hanamaki freezes, because he knows that voice - knows that tired little yawn - like it’s his very own.
“Mattsun?” Hanamaki squeaks, whirling around to find Matsukawa lying by his side, a sleepy and very unimpressed look plastered across his face. “What’re you doing?”
“Trying to sleep?” Matsukawa offers, tugging his arms back around Hanamaki’s waist in a failed attempt to get him back in his original position. “Trying being the operative word here.”
“Why aren’t you a frog? You’re supposed to be a frog!” He’s a little aware that he probably sounds a teensy bit hysterical right now, but can you blame him?
“Oh—” Matsukawa glances away, the tips of his ears a shade pinker than usual. “Yeah, uh— The spell broke.”
“I can see that,” Hanamaki snorts, poking Matsukawa playfully in the chest. “But how. I thought that old witch said only ‘true love's kiss’ could break the curse?”
Matsukawa tugs the blankets up past his mouth and mumbles something unintelligible, the pinkness around his ears spreading to the rest of his face.
Hanamaki frowns and yanks the blanket away. “What was that?”
“I said—” Matsukawa sighs, determinedly avoiding all eye contact with Hanamaki. “I said true love’s kiss did break the spell.”
“But we didn’t fin—” Hanamaki stops mid-sentence, realisation dawning on him. “Oh.”
“Look, you don’t have to make a big dea—”
“I kissed you.”
Matsukawa groans, fingers itching for the blankets again to cover his bright pink face.
“I kissed you and broke the spell,” Hanamaki breathes, something warm beginning to bubble up in his chest. “Holy shit.”
“I said you don’t have to make a big deal abou—”
“I want a redo,” Hanamaki says abruptly, rolling over slightly until he’s resting gently on Matsukawa’s chest.
“A redo?”
Hanamaki nods, tilting his chin up slightly. “Firstly, you were a frog for our first kiss. Yuck, that’s not the story I want to tell our grandkids—”
“Grandkids?”
“And secondly,” Hanamaki continues, ignoring Matsukawa’s squawk. “It wasn’t really much of a kiss, was it? More of a peck.”
“Oh,” Matsukawa breathes, a look of understanding flashing across his face. “So you want to— Ah, you want to—”
“I want to kiss you properly, as a human. Maybe slip in a little tongue if you’re lucky.”
Matsukawa laughs as he wraps his arms around Hanamaki’s waist and pulls him in close, dipping his head until he’s hovering just centimetres away from his lips. “Then I’m really hoping my luck has changed since yesterday,” he whispers, before closing the gap between them.
FILL: Team Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, G
tags; princess and the frog type au???
word count; 1415
“You know,” Hanamaki mumbles quietly, peering into his unzipped rucksack as he makes his way down the crowded street. Not a lot of friends would do this. I mean, Iwaizumi probably would - after grumbling about it for forty years, and maybe Oikawa after he stopped laughing—” Hanamaki pauses and, after a second or two, decides to amend his statement. “Maybe Oikawa if he ever stops laughing. So yeah, you should be lucky you’ve got a friend as amazing as me.”
The frog in his bag - a fat little thing with beady black eyes and brown spots along its back - pokes its head out of the gap and ribbits twice indignantly, eyes squinting into something reminiscent of a lazy glare.
“Don’t give me that sass,” Hanamaki laughs, poking the frog gently on its forehead to push it further into the bag. “Like I said, I’m doing you a huge favour here, unless you want to stay like this forever?”
Another ribbit - this one a little more despondent than the last few.
“That’s more like it,” Hanamaki murmurs quietly, cheeks flushing a little as he suddenly becomes aware of the strange looks he’s receiving from passers-by, probably confused as to why he’s walking around talking animatedly to his rucksack. “Now, stay down and keep quiet until I say so and, if we’re lucky, things’ll be back to normal in no time.”
=
As it turns out, they’re not lucky because things don’t ‘get back to normal in no time’. Far from it actually.
“Twelve,” Hanamaki huffs dramatically as he drops onto his bed with a tired little moan. “I’m banned from twelve different bars because of you.”
The frog, now out of the rucksack and hopping frantically up and down on Hanamaki’s bed, ribbits sympathetically.
“Oh, don’t act like you’re sorry now,” Hanamaki snorts, lips twitching upwards into a small smile despite the far from desirable situation they’ve found themselves in. “It’s like you weren’t even trying to make a connection with anyone tonight.”
The frog ribbits three times, eyes narrowing into thin slits as if it's offended by Hanamaki’s accusation.
“And the last one was cute,” Hanamaki sniffs, apparently accurately deciphering the expression on the frog's face. “Totally your type.”
The frog ribbits again - though, this time Hanamaki can’t tell if it’s to disagree or not - before hopping onto Hanamaki’s lap and settling himself on his thighs.
“Alright, so maybe not her,” Hanamaki says with a shrug, willing to admit that maybe the short brunette with the weird laugh wasn’t the best choice. He leans forwards to scoop the frog up until they’re at eye-level with each other. “But what about the guy before her? He wasn't that bad— Or, at least he wasn’t until he started trying to squash you. Which, can I just add, is a ridiculous reaction to suddenly seeing a frog hop onto a bar. It’s not like you’re a spid—”
The frog ribbits irritably again, tongue whizzing out to smack Hanamaki gently on the hand.
“Right, right, I’m getting off topic,” Hanamaki nods apologetically before his brows pucker into a slight frown. “But Mattsun—”
The frog stiffens slightly in his hands, big black eyes blinking up at him almost nervously.
“This is really hard just trying to find someone to kiss you, let alone have it be your ‘one true love’,” Hanamaki sighs loudly before setting Matsukawa, in his froggy form, on the bedside table. “Honestly, witches really need to start updating the terms and conditions of their curses. It’s just not as easy as it used to be back in the middle ages to convince people to kiss a frog. Why couldn’t she turn you into a puppy? If you were a puppy I bet I’d have people lining up to smooch you. But no, she had to turn you into a frog, and not even a cute one.”
Matsukawa croaks loudly in annoyance, hopping off the bedside table and landing on Hanamaki’s shoulder in one fluid motion.
Hanamaki laughs quietly, shifting slightly so he can scoop Matsukawa into his arms. “Sorry, you are a cute frog. Maybe. I’m not really sure what the beauty standard is when it comes to frog. But—” He adds quickly, noting the way Matsukawa’s eyes have begun to narrow. He smiles before leaning forwards to press a quick kiss against the top of Matsukawa’s forehead, trying to ignore the thin coating of slime that sticks to his lips when he pulls away. “You are definitely cute - slimy, but cute - and I’m sure someone else’ll see that soon. Preferably before I get banned from all the bars in town.”
Matsukawa ribbits again, and Hanamaki thinks it’s meant to mean something like ‘sorry for getting you involved in all of this’.
“Don’t apologise,” Hanamaki snorts, stretching to drop Matsukawa back on top of his bedside table for the night. “You know I’d do anything for you. Now—” Hanamaki reaches behind him to flip the switch and submerge his room in darkness. “Let me sleep, I’m gonna need all my energy if we have to spend another day running around town searching for you ‘one true love’.”
=
When he wakes the next morning, he wakes to find something pressing against his back.
It’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling - in fact, it’s a very, very nice feeling - but it’s strange, because it feels like a person pressed against his back. Which is both ridiculous and worrying because he’s pretty certain he didn’t bring anyone home last night.
Hanamaki cracks open his eyes slowly, zeroing in on the strong arms he can see wrapped around his midsection. Yep, somebody is definitely spooning him right now.
He moves to leap out of bed and make a beeline for the baseball bat he keeps hidden in his closet, but the second he moves the arms around him squeeze a little tighter and a voice murmurs in his ear.
“Are you always such a morning person?”
Hanamaki freezes, because he knows that voice - knows that tired little yawn - like it’s his very own.
“Mattsun?” Hanamaki squeaks, whirling around to find Matsukawa lying by his side, a sleepy and very unimpressed look plastered across his face. “What’re you doing?”
“Trying to sleep?” Matsukawa offers, tugging his arms back around Hanamaki’s waist in a failed attempt to get him back in his original position. “Trying being the operative word here.”
“Why aren’t you a frog? You’re supposed to be a frog!” He’s a little aware that he probably sounds a teensy bit hysterical right now, but can you blame him?
“Oh—” Matsukawa glances away, the tips of his ears a shade pinker than usual. “Yeah, uh— The spell broke.”
“I can see that,” Hanamaki snorts, poking Matsukawa playfully in the chest. “But how. I thought that old witch said only ‘true love's kiss’ could break the curse?”
Matsukawa tugs the blankets up past his mouth and mumbles something unintelligible, the pinkness around his ears spreading to the rest of his face.
Hanamaki frowns and yanks the blanket away. “What was that?”
“I said—” Matsukawa sighs, determinedly avoiding all eye contact with Hanamaki. “I said true love’s kiss did break the spell.”
“But we didn’t fin—” Hanamaki stops mid-sentence, realisation dawning on him. “Oh.”
“Look, you don’t have to make a big dea—”
“I kissed you.”
Matsukawa groans, fingers itching for the blankets again to cover his bright pink face.
“I kissed you and broke the spell,” Hanamaki breathes, something warm beginning to bubble up in his chest. “Holy shit.”
“I said you don’t have to make a big deal abou—”
“I want a redo,” Hanamaki says abruptly, rolling over slightly until he’s resting gently on Matsukawa’s chest.
“A redo?”
Hanamaki nods, tilting his chin up slightly. “Firstly, you were a frog for our first kiss. Yuck, that’s not the story I want to tell our grandkids—”
“Grandkids?”
“And secondly,” Hanamaki continues, ignoring Matsukawa’s squawk. “It wasn’t really much of a kiss, was it? More of a peck.”
“Oh,” Matsukawa breathes, a look of understanding flashing across his face. “So you want to— Ah, you want to—”
“I want to kiss you properly, as a human. Maybe slip in a little tongue if you’re lucky.”
Matsukawa laughs as he wraps his arms around Hanamaki’s waist and pulls him in close, dipping his head until he’s hovering just centimetres away from his lips. “Then I’m really hoping my luck has changed since yesterday,” he whispers, before closing the gap between them.
(It has.)