Ship: iwaizumi hajime / oikawa tooru Fandom: haikyuu Major tags: implied sexual content Other tags: sex injury, painkillers Word count: 506
sorry
***
"Promise me, Iwa-chan. Promise me you'll take care of the team when I'm gone." Oikawa's voice is muffled by the hospital blankets pulled right up to the top of his head, and also possibly an absolute metric fuckton of painkillers.
"You're not gonna die, dumbass," Iwaizumi grumbles back. He watches as Oikawa's stupid little hair thingie bobs in disagreement -- he's not sure what's more mesmerising, the fact that he can read Oikawa this easily just by his shitty over-gelled hair, or that he finds the entire stupid look kinda cute. He watches the hair thingie continue to flop around in utter despair and wonders what Oikawa would say if he tried to touch it, but that's probably one of the things that got them into this mess in the first place. "I wouldn't let you die on me, you know," Iwaizumi adds under his breath.
"I heard you!" Oikawa yells as he flips the covers off his face. "Iwa-chan does care!"
"Of course I do," Iwaizumi replies. He looks away and tries to stare at the cheery balloons the team had sent along with him; he hadn't tied them too carefully, and they had slipped from the sloppy bow he had tied them with to the railing of Oikawa's bed. Green and blue, to match the team colours. Iwaizumi idly wonders how much Hanamaki and Matsukawa know; he’s pretty sure they had seen Oikawa with his hands under Iwaizumi's shirt behind the gym about two weeks ago. Iwaizumi was actually mildly surprised that the two hadn't sent a Congratulations on the Sex card or something.
"How much do you care, Iwa-chan." Oikawa's eyes are a little manic in his high and there's the brightness of a bad idea in them.
"I wouldn't," Iwaizumi starts, "you know. If I didn't." He feels heat rise in his cheeks and kinda hates himself.
"You can say jerk off, you know," Oikawa adopts a deeply serious voice. "We're both men here. It's nothing to be ashamed of, Iwa-chan. You don't have to feel insecure when you're talking to Oikawa-san."
"Fuck off, Shittykawa," Iwaizumi says easily, but he's already stood up from the chair from beside Oikawa's bed to help tuck the blanket that had started to slip down the side. "So, uh, what did you tell the team."
"That clumsy brutish Iwa-chan slipped on a volleyball, of course," Oikawa smiles. He's trying to look guileless, but even on the best of days, Oikawa can't help the knife's edge of his mouth. "And now their poor, beloved captain who was the victim of all that gorilla weight falling on him, requires bed rest for at least a week so that his strained hip can heal."
"Oh, then I'm definitely gonna tell them you--"
"Don't you dare," Oikawa cuts in but it’s far too late.
“--fell on my dick,” Iwaizumi finishes, just as Matsukawa and Hanamaki walk into the room with gift milk bread, and Oikawa’s wail is almost loud enough to drown out their raucous laughter as they highfive each other.
FILL: TEAM KAGEYAMA TOBIO/OIKAWA TOORU, T
Fandom: haikyuu
Major tags: implied sexual content
Other tags: sex injury, painkillers
Word count: 506
sorry
***
"Promise me, Iwa-chan. Promise me you'll take care of the team when I'm gone." Oikawa's voice is muffled by the hospital blankets pulled right up to the top of his head, and also possibly an absolute metric fuckton of painkillers.
"You're not gonna die, dumbass," Iwaizumi grumbles back. He watches as Oikawa's stupid little hair thingie bobs in disagreement -- he's not sure what's more mesmerising, the fact that he can read Oikawa this easily just by his shitty over-gelled hair, or that he finds the entire stupid look kinda cute. He watches the hair thingie continue to flop around in utter despair and wonders what Oikawa would say if he tried to touch it, but that's probably one of the things that got them into this mess in the first place. "I wouldn't let you die on me, you know," Iwaizumi adds under his breath.
"I heard you!" Oikawa yells as he flips the covers off his face. "Iwa-chan does care!"
"Of course I do," Iwaizumi replies. He looks away and tries to stare at the cheery balloons the team had sent along with him; he hadn't tied them too carefully, and they had slipped from the sloppy bow he had tied them with to the railing of Oikawa's bed. Green and blue, to match the team colours. Iwaizumi idly wonders how much Hanamaki and Matsukawa know; he’s pretty sure they had seen Oikawa with his hands under Iwaizumi's shirt behind the gym about two weeks ago. Iwaizumi was actually mildly surprised that the two hadn't sent a Congratulations on the Sex card or something.
"How much do you care, Iwa-chan." Oikawa's eyes are a little manic in his high and there's the brightness of a bad idea in them.
"I wouldn't," Iwaizumi starts, "you know. If I didn't." He feels heat rise in his cheeks and kinda hates himself.
"You can say jerk off, you know," Oikawa adopts a deeply serious voice. "We're both men here. It's nothing to be ashamed of, Iwa-chan. You don't have to feel insecure when you're talking to Oikawa-san."
"Fuck off, Shittykawa," Iwaizumi says easily, but he's already stood up from the chair from beside Oikawa's bed to help tuck the blanket that had started to slip down the side. "So, uh, what did you tell the team."
"That clumsy brutish Iwa-chan slipped on a volleyball, of course," Oikawa smiles. He's trying to look guileless, but even on the best of days, Oikawa can't help the knife's edge of his mouth. "And now their poor, beloved captain who was the victim of all that gorilla weight falling on him, requires bed rest for at least a week so that his strained hip can heal."
"Oh, then I'm definitely gonna tell them you--"
"Don't you dare," Oikawa cuts in but it’s far too late.
“--fell on my dick,” Iwaizumi finishes, just as Matsukawa and Hanamaki walk into the room with gift milk bread, and Oikawa’s wail is almost loud enough to drown out their raucous laughter as they highfive each other.