seijaku

Every second that ticked by in the waiting room of the hospital dragged as though time were moving through molasses. Iwaizumi was acutely aware of everyone and everything in that room, from the bubbling filter of the decorative fish tank recessed into the wall beside him, to the distant echo of doctors and nurses on the intercom, to the constant foot traffic that surrounded him, in and out of offices and across corridors and rushing toward patients’ rooms. Nothing ever seemed to be still here. No matter how many colour theory-inspired art installations they plastered across the walls, no matter what kinds of outdated magazines they left beside every chair—none of it could silence the unwavering sense of panic that lingered in the air. It was always there, in his lungs, under his skin, between his teeth.

Everywhere he looked, he was only reminded of the terrible experience he'd had with hospitals. Every sudden noise made him twitch as if he were expecting to hear the stomach-churning wails of anguish that had plagued his sleepless nights as a child. There was a faint, buzzing ring in his ears that he couldn't get rid of. The air smelled so sterile and absent of life that it stung his nostrils, despite being surrounded by so many different people at any given moment.

One scent in particular did manage to stand out above the rest as Iwaizumi noticed someone sink down into the chair next to his—it was a scent he had only recently begun to recognize. He glanced over to confirm his suspicions as the air turned heavy with the bitter notes of dark chocolate and a metallic, tangy aroma that Iwaizumi could only describe as fresh blood.

Kyotani.

It wasn’t uncommon for alphas to find each other’s scents a little repulsive sometimes. They were highly territorial creatures by nature, after all, and Iwaizumi had read studies about the phenomenon surrounding how everyone’s pheromones affected people differently. What smelled of scorn and violence to him could smell completely different to Kyotani’s mate, for instance. Strangely enough, though, Iwaizumi wasn’t too put off by the younger alpha’s general demeanour, but that probably had more to do with the fact that Kyotani seemed to defer to him as if Iwaizumi were his superior in some way. He had heard of alphas establishing their own hierarchy within certain packs, but it wasn’t as if they were close enough for something like that.

“You’re here with Oikawa,” Kyotani noted without preamble, piercing Iwaizumi with an unreadable look.

Of course, most of the expressions Kyotani wore could easily be filed under the “glaring” category, but that was besides the point. He opened his mouth to say something, perhaps to defend himself or slap together another half-assed story, but Kyotani didn’t give him the chance.

“I can smell him on you.”

…Right. Kyotani’s sense of smell really was something else. An alpha’s pheromones tended to wash out those of others, save for certain omegas close to them, but Kyotani had no issue parsing the subtle notes that still clung to Iwaizumi’s clothes. Iwaizumi shifted in his seat, averting his gaze as he struggled to find something to say that wouldn’t put him or Oikawa in a situation he couldn’t recover from.

“...We just came from the parlour and—”

“You don’t smell like the parlour.”

Dammit. Why did this guy have to be so persistent? Even if Iwaizumi could come up with an excuse for that, it still wouldn’t explain why he and Oikawa were here together. As far as Kyotani was concerned, he was just their mutual massage therapist. He understood that their real cover story went beyond that, but this hardly felt like the time or the place to play into their little game. For fuck’s sake, a man was dying somewhere in this hospital.

“I…kinda don’t want to talk about it,” he said instead, staring into the fish tank wall beside him.

He felt Kyotani’s gaze boring into his head for a few moments longer, but thankfully that intense feeling subsided soon enough.

“...Do you know that you’re sick?”

“...What?”

This time, Iwaizumi did turn to look at him, brows drawing together, but it seemed to be Kyotani’s turn to stare a hole into some undefined spot across the room. Iwaizumi watched his jaw flex and tighten, fingers curling into his palms where they rested on his knees.

“You’re sick. And you smell like him.”

His words didn’t offer much more in the way of clarity. Iwaizumi stared at him a while longer, trying to piece together what he meant.

He didn’t feel sick. Not really, anyway. He had been coughing a little here and there since the concert a couple days ago, but it was flu season. He just needed to swallow a bit of cold medicine when he got home and he was sure he’d be fine. Kyotani was probably just smelling that. Before he could ask more questions, though, he noticed a familiar figure emerge from the hallway that led to the Urgent Care facilities.

Oikawa’s eyes were puffy and red and downcast and he held his arms around himself in a way that made him look so fragile, like he could fall apart if he took one wrong step. Iwaizumi was quick to stand to meet him as he approached, though he refrained from reaching out to him like he wanted to with the knowledge that Kyotani was sitting right there.

"...How did it go?" he asked, even though he didn't want to. Oikawa took a shaky breath.

"...He's alive," he said first, as if he could tell that that was the foremost question on Iwaizumi's mind. "The medication is keeping him stable, for now. He was...actually laughing."

A small smile tugged at Oikawa's lips, and while Iwaizumi could understand the relief in that simple gesture, it never quite met his eyes.

"...He barely looked at me the whole time."

He was hurting in more ways than one. If Iwaizumi had to guess, he was feeling like he was losing his friend in more ways than one, too. This was always going to happen, one way or another, but he doubted Oikawa had ever fully braced himself for it. It was a cruel reality, one that Oikawa had brought on himself, but whether or not it was all worth it was still yet to be decided. Iwaizumi wasn't sure he could have done what Oikawa did if he were in the other alpha's shoes. It was one thing to play along, to be an accessory to it all, but to go through with something like that? He didn't know that he had the mental or emotional fortitude.

Then again, it didn't exactly seem like Oikawa did, either. In fact, he was probably one of the most emotional alphas Iwaizumi knew. He had one hell of an idol complex and his incessant need to be liked served as a sturdy outer shell, but past that, it was all raw, intense feeling that he couldn't seem to control sometimes. Iwaizumi liked that about him, though. Oikawa was genuine and sincere in ways he probably didn't even realise half the time.

“We should—” He paused, casting a brief glance toward Kyotani before reconsidering. “You should get home. You look like you need the rest.”

Noticing his choice of words, Oikawa’s eyes finally drifted over to see his former teammate sitting just behind Iwaizumi, staring him down. Oddly, he didn’t seem to mind Kyotani’s presence all that much, that tired sag in his face etched in place for the time being.

“Okay… Are you…?”

“I’ll get a ride,” Iwaizumi assured without the need for Oikawa to voice the look in his eyes. They dimmed a little at that, as if expecting him to say something different, but there was understanding, as well.

“Alright, then. I’ll…see you later?” he asked. Iwaizumi nodded.

“Yeah. See you later.”

He watched Oikawa leave, fighting the urge to follow him. His stomach felt uneasy about leaving Oikawa on his own while he was like this, but it couldn’t be helped. It wouldn’t look good if they left together now that Kyotani had seen him here, not to mention what he sniffed out without the aid of Iwaizumi’s inability to lie. What a mess…

A group of voices all but snuck up behind him, making him jump a little as he looked over his shoulder to see the Seijō cavalry coming out of Urgent Care.

“All I’m saying is that you could have stood to be a little less…hostile,” came Yahaba’s chiding voice.

“And all I’m saying is that if he wants me to play nice, he’s going to have to apologise first,” said Kunimi.

“Akira…maybe you should just let it go. It’s been years.”

At least Undercut—er, Kindaichi, seemed to be the voice of reason for his mate. Well, he would be, if Kunimi actually listened to him.

“Whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Yours! But, well, he is our friend, so…”

“Oh. It’s you.”

Yahaba stopped in front of Iwaizumi now that he had reached his own mate. Kyotani rose to his feet, filling in the spot right behind Yahaba’s left shoulder that seemed to be reserved just for him. Iwaizumi offered a polite nod to the three of them.

“Good to see you. Although, it could be under better circumstances…” he said. Yahaba raised his brows.

“You know about Matsukawa? Did Oikawa tell you?”

Ah, right. It was a little weird for him to know about that sort of thing, wasn’t it? At least, from their perspectives. Iwaizumi rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Uh, yeah. It just, uh…kinda slipped out of him, I think.”

He hoped that sounded convincing enough. Oikawa did strike him as the kind of person to accidentally unload his problems onto the nearest person, and if that just so happened to be Iwaizumi, then who were they to question it?

“Huh,” was all Yahaba said in response, as if that made perfect sense. Iwaizumi discreetly released his breath. “Well, thanks for coming to show your support. He’s doing okay, if you were wondering. The doctors just want to keep him under observation for another day or two to rule out any irregularities before they release him.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear,” Iwaizumi said.

He didn’t know Matsukawa beyond what Oikawa had said about him and their brief exchange at the restaurant, but he was still relieved to hear that he wasn’t in critical condition anymore. For now, at least.

“We were just going out to get something to eat if you wanna come,” Kindaichi offered then, but the grunt of pain he gave when Kunimi elbowed him in the side seemed to make him regret it. “Sorry… Just thought I’d offer…”

“No, that’s okay,” Yahaba assured, giving Kunimi a disapproving look before he turned back to face Iwaizumi with a peculiar expression in his eyes. “You can come, if you want. Seems like Oikawa trusts you and, quite frankly, I’m a little curious to get to know the alpha Kyotani respects so much.” He offered a smile that bared just a hint of teeth. “I’d love to know your secrets.”

Wow, if that didn’t sound slightly threatening. Iwaizumi glanced between the four of them, weighing his options. This seemed like a bad idea. There was too much opportunity for something to go wrong if he started fraternising with Oikawa’s inner circle. He could let something slip, or contradict his story thus far, or otherwise put himself or Oikawa in a generally unfavourable position. On the other hand, if he said no, would that look suspicious, too?

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get a better idea of the kind of people he was dealing with if they were going to keep this up for much longer.

“...If I’m not imposing, then I’d love to,” he said finally, bowing his head gratefully.

Kunimi appeared to be a little put off by his decision to take the offer, but Kindaichi and Yahaba welcomed him along. Kyotani…didn’t seem to care one way or the other, though Iwaizumi felt that intense gaze of his linger on him as they left the hospital. They took him to a small izakaya lounge at the edge of town, apparently one their group frequented, and they sat down in a semi-secluded corner with comfortable lounge seating and small tables for their drinks.

Iwaizumi wasn’t quite sure how to jump into the idle chit-chat amoung Oikawa’s friends at first, but luckily he didn’t have to worry about it for long. Their drinks came soon enough—beers for everyone—and Kindaichi was the first to reach for his glass.

“Kanpai—”

Before he could conclude his cheers, Kunimi nudged his shoulder, drawing everyone’s attention toward Yahaba, who raised his glass for a toast.

“To Matsukawa. May the gods bless his health, happiness, and fortune.”

“Banzai!”

Iwaizumi raised his glass, though he kept his mouth closed until he began nursing his drink. Matsukawa wasn’t his friend to pray for, and it would feel wrong to do it in the first place. It touched his heart to see how much his real friends cared for him, though. It felt as though they meant their cheer wholeheartedly: to live ten thousand years. If anyone deserved a blessing like that right now, he was sure it would be Matsukawa.

“So Iwaizumi-san,” Yahaba began, setting his drink on the table in front of him to give the alpha his full attention. “Tell me. How do you manage to wrangle Kentaro during your sessions?”

“Shigeru…” Kyotani grumbled, shooting his mate a warning look. Yahaba waved him off without looking away from Iwaizumi.

“No, no. I wanna know. I’m fascinated.”

Iwaizumi hesitated, glancing over at Kyotani in question. He could tell the other alpha was reluctant to witness this conversation, but instead of voicing any further disagreement, he simply buried his nose in his glass of beer. Iwaizumi took that as a sign of resigned acceptance. He supposed it was okay to talk about this with Kyotani’s close friends…

“Well…it’s a work in progress,” he admitted, choosing his words carefully. “Our first session was…interesting, to say the least.”

Kunimi appeared wholly uninterested in the conversation at hand, staring down at his phone, but Kindaichi, for his part, seemed just as intrigued as Yahaba to learn about Iwaizumi’s “trade secrets”, as it were.

“He almost took my arm off the first time I touched his back,” he continued.

He recalled the moment with excruciating clarity, up to and including the very distinct snap of Kyotani’s jaws when he’d rounded on Iwaizumi like a cornered animal.

“I had to restrain him just to oil his skin.”

Yahaba snickered, a certain whimsy in his eyes.

“Restrain him, you say?”

“Yeah… It’s pretty standard overall. We always have a few…rowdy types come through our parlour who need a little extra convincing to lie still.”

In fact, all of their massage tables had built-in restraints specifically because of a known history of alphan clients causing their masseurs and masseuses trouble. There had even been a couple recorded incidents of mated omegas lashing out.

“Last time he came in, I had to force him to the ground—”

“What?!” Yahaba burst into laughter, tossing his mate a wide-eyed look. “You let him do that to you?”

“I didn’t let him do anything,” Kyotani corrected, eyes narrowing into the frothy remains of his beer. “He’s…strong.”

“Wow,” Kindaichi breathed out. He looked at Iwaizumi with some sort of reverence in his eyes, as if what he had just heard had unveiled some awe-inspiring revelation. “Even I can’t pin down Kyotani.”

“That’s because you’re a pushover,” Kunimi commented, finally pocketing his phone. “You respect him more than he respects you.”

“That’s not true! Right, Kyotani?” Kindaichi looked to his former teammate for reassurance, but Kyotani offered nothing of the sort. Instead, he regarded Kindaichi with an unimpressed gaze.

“...We’re not on the same level.”

Iwaizumi observed as the Aoba Jōsai alumni eased into what felt like, from his perspective, a natural dynamic that was years in the making. These people were perhaps the closest thing he had ever seen to a true pack. They were so few and far between these days, especially as the rising stigma that packs were always somehow involved in gang activity dissuaded anyone from straying too close to those kinds of relationships. Iwaizumi knew it was all propagandized bullshit. He, unlike so many others, hadn’t forgotten about how the news had covered up the annihilation of Japan’s largest pack in Hokkaido the year before last. The people in charge were scared of the power a well-organised pack could harness, and rightfully so.

…But he really shouldn’t be thinking about such tenuous political topics right now.

“Well, I’m just glad to know there’s someone out there besides me who can keep Kentaro in line,” Yahaba was saying as Iwaizumi tuned back into their conversation. “It’s been so exhausting.”

“You’re no walk in the fucking park, either,” Kyotani muttered through pursed lips. “I’m the one who has to keep up with your high-maintenance bullshit.”

“I’m not high-maintenance. Pardon the hell out of me for wanting a little more out of life than an air mattress on the floor and takeout every night.”

The couple’s lighthearted bickering carried on a while longer as they ordered more drinks. Iwaizumi gradually settled into the flow of conversation, feeling a little less out of place as the evening went on and he wasn’t pressed for more information about his fabricated relationship with Oikawa. These people seemed content to ignore that pesky detail altogether and for that Iwaizumi was grateful. However, he did find himself conveniently privy to some interesting insight regarding Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

“I mean, not to sound insensitive, but I just don’t get why Hanamaki hasn’t said anything to him yet,” Yahaba said, swishing around his third glass of ocha-wari. His speech was only just beginning to slur somewhat, but he appeared to keep his wits about him, if a bit lacking in inhibition. “They’ve been living together this whole time, after all.”

“Hasn’t said anything about what?” Kindaichi asked just after up-ending the last of his shochu. Yahaba looked at him like he was stupid.

“About liking him, doofus,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. Kyotani coughed around his beer—only his third round of the night—but quickly hid it by shoving a stick of katsu in his mouth. “What, you didn’t know?”

Kindaichi shook his head, eyes wide.

“I had no idea about that. How long has Hanamaki had feelings for Matsukawa?”

“Since, like, forever? Come on, guys, it was really obvious. Right, Kunimi?” Yahaba nudged the other omega sitting next to him, who grunted in response.

“He’s not wrong. Hanamaki’s had it down bad since high school,” he said. “I’m honestly a little surprised he never developed Hanahaki because of it.”

“Oh, man… That would have been rough if both of them got infected…”

Kindaichi stared down into his empty glass, brows furrowed. Yahaba waved a dismissive hand.

“It’s probably just because he hasn’t realised the depths of his feelings yet! You know, maybe if we all tell him we know, then he’ll—”

“Don’t get involved in things that don’t concern you.”

All eyes turned toward Kyotani, who pointedly avoided meeting any of their gazes, including Yahaba’s. His mouth had pressed into a thin line, a scowl forming on his face.

“What’s with that?” Yahaba asked, blinking. “Do you know something about it, Kentaro?”

Kyotani clicked his tongue.

“Forget it,” he snapped. “Just don’t go running your mouth unnecessarily. It’s no one else’s business what he does with his feelings.”

The four of them fell quiet after that, leaving Iwaizumi feeling a little lost, but impressed all the same. He tilted his glass toward Kyotani with a low nod.

“Well said. You may not look it, but you’re more attuned to people’s emotions than you seem, aren’t you?” he noted. Kyotani glanced up at him, but then quickly looked away, a faint shade of red rising to his cheeks.

“Shut up. It’s not like that.”

“Oh, but isn’t it?” Yahaba teased, leaning in close to press himself against Kyotani’s shoulder with a fox-like grin. “My little Ken-chan is kinda thoughtful, huh? You’re so cute, looking out for Hanamaki like that.”

“I’m not cute.”

“My adorable little puppy-wuppy—”

“I’ll snap your neck.”

In spite of all the threats that followed suit of Yahaba’s teasing, Kyotani never acted on them, though his face did continue to grow redder and redder by the second. Iwaizumi couldn’t help chuckling, but his mind began to wander away from the friendly banter that picked up once more before he could stop it.

So Hanamaki’s other friends didn’t know about his predicament. It seemed odd that only two of them had even speculated it if his feelings were really that obvious from that long ago, but Yahaba and Kunimi seemed to be rather perceptive in their own right. From what Iwaizumi knew of Kyotani, he doubted the alpha so much as spared that kind of stuff a single thought back then to care. And Kindaichi…was kind of an airhead.

And then what about Matsukawa? As the subject of those feelings, wouldn’t he have been able to pick up on them as well? Iwaizumi had only had one, brief conversation with him, but he was at least capable of putting two and two together after only a little observation. Maybe he was so tunnel-visioned on Oikawa that he never stopped to consider the possibility that someone else was falling for him at the same time. That seemed plausible.

Iwaizumi wondered if any of this could aid his and Oikawa’s plan. At this point, it would just be a little mean to keep trying to shove their fake relationship in Matsukawa’s face, so maybe it was time to put a little more focus on the other half of it. Unfortunately for him, he was more or less irrelevant to Hanamaki’s objective, meaning his usefulness had run its course.

His heart lurched as that fact registered to him. He was no longer useful to Oikawa. Their game of pretend had become unnecessary in the current state of things. There was no more reason for Oikawa to call for his aid, no more “real fake dates”, no more scripted phone calls where Oikawa called him “babe”. He should have felt relieved that he didn’t have to carry the guilt and pressure of the charade on his shoulders anymore, and yet…

And yet.

“Iwaizumi-san. Hey, Iwaizumi-san, are you feeling okay?”

He blinked his vision back into focus when he felt the nudge to his shoulder, glancing around to find all four of them staring at him with worried gazes.

“Is something wrong? You had this really depressed look on your face for a minute,” Kindaichi pointed out. Iwaizumi scrambled for an excuse.

“Uh, no, I just… I think I’m just a little too buzzed, is all,” he said. Kunimi quirked a brow.

“You’ve only had a couple of beers…” Iwaizumi swallowed.

“I’m a lightweight. I think I’m gonna head home for the night.”

Standing from his seat before any of them could question him further, Iwaizumi bowed to them all respectfully.

“Thank you all for inviting me out. Please send my regards to Matsukawa-san.”

And with that, he made his exit and flagged down a cab to take him back to his apartment. He gripped his phone in his hand the entire ride, turning it on and back off again as he second guessed himself. Part of him wanted to text Oikawa to see if he were holding up alright, while the other part insisted that was a bad idea and that he should be proactive in cutting ties if he wanted to avoid getting hurt. He was stupid for putting himself in a position to get hurt in the first place. He knew better than that coming into this whole thing.

And yet.

He found himself staring at his contacts list, thumb hovering above the screen. Before he knew it, he had already typed out a message and hit send.

Why his hands decided that was the message he wanted to send most at that moment was a mystery, but it was too late to take it back now. Surprisingly, Oikawa was quick to reply.

Iwaizumi's lungs stopped working just long enough for saliva to get lodged in his throat, sending him into a coughing fit as he watched a flood of subsequent messages pop up on his screen.

Okay... That was unreasonably cute. Iwaizumi refused to acknowledge the way his face began to heat up as he shoved his phone into his jacket pocket and slumped against the door to glare out the window for the rest of the ride home.

What the hell had he just signed himself up for?

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Oikawa wasn't sure why he so readily agreed to Iwaizumi's proposition. He knew that they had added another level of deception to their ruse by implying that he was Iwaizumi's client, but did he really care that much about committing to the act or was he just looking for an excuse to spend more time with him? He supposed both reasons were sensible... He didn't dislike Iwaizumi, after all. In fact, Oikawa would sincerely consider him a friend by this point. They had far surpassed the point of mere strangers working toward the same goal.

What even was their goal now, anyway? Oikawa never quite reconciled with the nature of his scheme, but now more than ever it just felt...wrong.

Matsukawa was dying.

Shaking his head, Oikawa jerked himself away from that train of thought as he rode the bus to the parlour. This part of town was a little too crowded for his tastes, so he decided against driving and simply suited up in his casual, undercover ensemble—hat, glasses, scarf. Thankfully it was cold enough to warrant as many layers as he was wearing.

Come to think of it, Christmas was right around the corner. Oikawa wondered what that holiday would look like for him this year after everything that had happened. Normally he spent it with his old teammates, but now...that seemed unlikely.

Stepping off at the next bus stop, Oikawa walked another block or two until he arrived at the address Iwaizumi had given him. The building was surprisingly traditional and well-kept, nothing like the modern industrial buildings that littered the rest of these streets. The interior held the same old-fashioned charm, the sound of soft chimes greeting his ears as he stepped through the curtained entrance.

"Hello there! Welcome to Kanmu," came a voice from behind the reception counter. A short, pudgy man with curly black hair and thick-framed glasses stood upright, placing a clipboard with a sign-in sheet on the counter. "My name is Takeda Ittetsu. May I ask the name for your appointment?"

"Oh..." Oikawa floundered, unsure if Iwaizumi would have given the receptionist his real name. "Um...I didn't make the appointment myself. Iwa-cha—uh, Iwaizumi-san said I should come here around this time."

"Ah, I understand. Let me see..."

Takeda adjusted his glasses as he squinted down at his clipboard, running his finger across the lines until he found what he was looking for with a little "aha!"

"Not to worry, I see you listed here, mister..." Takeda hesitated, uncertain eyes flicking up to meet Oikawa's. "...Uzai Kurumi?"

Oikawa's brow twitched. Well-played, Iwa-chan, but you haven't seen "annoying" yet.

He took a deep breath and forced a smile.

"Yes, that's me! So is Iwaizumi-san available?" he asked.

"Yes, he should be. Give me just one moment to let him know you're ready and I'll come get you!" Takeda said, offering a quick bow before rushing into the hallway behind him.

Oikawa idled by the counter, listing all the ways he'd like to get back at Iwaizumi for such a petty jab at his dignity. It didn't take long for Takeda to return, though, and he instructed Oikawa to sign the sheet before telling him that Iwaizumi was waiting for him in room three. Oikawa thanked him and started down the hallway, only to narrowly avoid being steamrolled by a hulking mass stepping out of the first door he passed.

Oikawa fought to catch his footing, but the strong hands that grabbed his arm and hip steadied him first. He blinked when he realized that looking straight ahead only gave him an eyeful of wide pectoral muscles just barely kept in place by a tight black tank-top that was most certainly a size too small for the beast of a man wearing it. He had to look up over the brim of his askew sunglasses to meet said man's eyes, finding himself rooted in place by the powerful amber stare looking back down at him.

In all his years, Oikawa had never met an alpha with half as much presence as the one standing in front of him now. In reality he was only a few inches taller than Oikawa, but the sheer, bulking mass of his form dwarfed him easily. For once, Oikawa felt small.

"Sorry about that," the alpha said with an apologetic smile and the hint of an accent. His breath oozed a heady mixture of red wine and vinyl. "Are you alright?"

Oikawa swallowed, searching for his voice, but it was nowhere to be found. All he could do was nod twice, which seemed to be enough to satisfy the alpha. He released Oikawa, skin burning beneath his clothes where those hands had gripped him, but he didn't dare move.

"Good. Sorry again. Excuse me."

With a polite nod of his own, the alpha stepped around him into the lobby from where Oikawa had just come. He stood there for a moment longer to collect his thoughts before numbly stepping forward to reach his destination three doors down.

What. The hell. Was that.

He still hadn't fully processed what had just happened by the time he entered the room, lifting the curtain to reveal Iwaizumi setting up the massage table. He looked up when Oikawa stepped inside, a rare smile teasing at the corners of his lips.

"Hey, glad you could make it... Are you okay?"

Iwaizumi's expression quickly morphed into concern as he noticed the shell-shocked glaze over Oikawa's eyes. He moved closer to press a cool hand against Oikawa's forehead, effectively yanking him out of his dissociative state. Oikawa blinked at the crease forming in Iwaizumi's brow and jerked his head away from the other's touch.

"Who was that?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder to try to peer outside the door.

"Who was who?" Iwaizumi asked in return, arching a brow.

"The...the brick shithouse on legs I just ran into," he clarified absentmindedly before slapping a hand over his mouth and turning back to Iwaizumi. "I didn't mean to say that," he mumbled through his fingers.

This time, Iwaizumi raised both brows.

"Uh... You mean Meian?" he offered, crossing his arms. "He specializes in deep tissue massages..." He narrowed his eyes. "Are you—"

"No," Oikawa answered all too quickly.

"...You don't even know what I was gonna ask."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. You were totally—"

"No I wasn't!"

"You so were."

"Shut up!"

Oikawa ripped his hand away from his own mouth to place over Iwaizumi's instead, piercing him with a halfhearted glare as he felt the heat rise in his face. Iwaizumi gave him a much too unimpressed look. Pursing his lips, Oikawa removed his hand, sticking a finger out at Iwaizumi.

"You don't say another word about it and I'll forget about the stupid name you gave the receptionist," he bargained.

Iwaizumi snorted and shook his head, turning to walk back toward the massage table as he waved for Oikawa to follow him.

"Yeah, right. Whatever. I didn't invite you here to argue about your sexual awakening, anyway," he said.

"It's not a—"

"Don't care." Iwaizumi shrugged and pointed to the curtains leading to another space at the back of the room. "Go change into a pair of shorts and then lie down on the table. I'll need to look at your knee before I figure out what method to use."

"...Okay."

Oikawa shuffled into the back room as instructed. Awkward and uncomfortably sexually-charged encounter notwithstanding, this all felt a little...strange. Oikawa hadn't been to massage therapy for his knee in years. It still ached from time to time, but there was no helping that. It was his fault it didn't heal right the first time, anyway. He wasn't sure there was much else to be done for it this late in the game.

The provided garments were all pristine white. Behind the privacy of the curtain, Oikawa shed his extra layers until he was just wearing his shirt and underwear before changing into a pair of comfortable white shorts. Somehow, he still felt vulnerable when he stepped back out into the main room where Iwaizumi was lighting candles. It wasn't like he was stark naked, but he sure felt that way as the warm, slightly humid air settled over his exposed skin.

He got up onto the table and reclined on his back as Iwaizumi approached him, reaching for his right leg with little preamble. Oikawa bit down on the inside of his lip when he felt himself jump at the contact, dread pooling in his stomach when he felt Iwaizumi pause.

"Still okay?" he asked gently.

Oikawa nodded for him to continue, taking deep, measured breaths through his nose. He wasn't sure why he felt so off right now. He and Iwaizumi had been in stranger situations than this, after all. He had given Oikawa that back massage on his couch, they had gone on a date (a fake date, but a date nonetheless), and hell, they had even made out before. Despite all that, this seemed different. Iwaizumi's hands were soft to the touch as he examined Oikawa's leg, gripping at the muscle to test for tenderness and flexing it at the knee.

"Does this hurt?" he asked, voice quiet as he pushed Oikawa's knee up toward his chest. Oikawa glanced down at him and shook his head.

"No," he assured.

Iwaizumi held his leg in that position for a moment longer before carefully stretching it back out, a palm on the underside of his thigh to act as support. Oikawa tried not to compare the heat of his skin to the way Meian's hands had left him feeling, but it burned all the same.

"Okay. I'm gonna warm up your leg first," Iwaizumi explained. "That helps improve blood flow so it's easier to work out the tension. Ready?"

Oikawa nodded, shifting to get comfortable as he stared up at the wooden panels on the ceiling. He felt Iwaizumi's hands start at his ankle, smoothing his palms over the full length of his leg. He pushed up the hem of Oikawa's shorts in the process, fingertips brushing over the sensitive strip of flesh that connected his thigh to his hip and making his stomach flutter. Iwaizumi didn't stop, though, repeating the full length of the motion several times over until Oikawa's leg matched the temperature of his hands (though the rest of his body felt warm, too).

Next he felt Iwaizumi's hands linger around his knee, putting a small amount of pressure into his fingers to start rubbing around the joint in small, circular motions. Oikawa allowed his eyes to fall closed. He had forgotten how good massage therapy felt; he was always so surprised at how much tension could build up in his knee when he wasn't paying attention. Under Iwaizumi's attentive touch, it all began to drain out of him, leaving behind only a pleasant buzz where their skin met.

Iwaizumi continued the massage up his thigh and down his calf, returning to the knee in between each round of kneading. Oikawa was so lost in the feeling that he didn't even notice the beginning of an embarrassing problem growing between his legs. What he did notice was the terrible loss of pressure against his leg when Iwaizumi lifted his hands, but before he could voice his complaint, Iwaizumi spoke.

"Want me to do the other leg?" he offered. Oikawa breathed a laugh.

"That'd be nice, actually," he said.

And so the process started all over again, this time on his left leg. Oikawa was in paradise. The pleasant tingle of tension seeping out of his body was almost euphoric. He felt warm all over, lips parted as tiny breaths of relief escaped his lungs. He didn't think anything of it when he felt Iwaizumi's hands slow and soften, his fingertips just grazing his warmed skin until they were joined by the unmistakable feeling of a pair of lips at the top of his thigh.

Oikawa gasped softly, but his eyes stayed closed.

"Iwai...zumi..." he breathed out, half in warning and half...something else.

"...Do you want me to stop?" Iwaizumi murmured against his skin, squeezing his hands around his leg and rubbing his thumbs on either side of his knee. Oikawa's whole body shuddered.

Do I?

"...No."

He surprised himself with that answer, but even more surprising was the quiet growl he got in response. It was only then that he smelled just how soaked in their pheromones the room was now, leaving him lightheaded and suddenly, distinctly aware of how hard he'd gotten. He tried unsuccessfully to swallow the whine that caught in the back of his throat as he felt Iwaizumi's tongue wet the inside of his thigh, the points of claws now digging into his skin.

What am I doing? wondered the stubborn voice in the back of his head, muted by the rush of lust and adrenaline that coursed through him. Iwaizumi pushed up his leg again to mouth at the underside of his thigh, drawing out an unexpected moan from Oikawa's throat when he felt sharp teeth tease at the sensitive flesh. As good as that felt, though, it sent his instincts into overdrive, eyes snapping open to reveal slit pupils. His hand found its way into Iwaizumi's hair, his own claws extended to dig into his scalp and yank his head up. The alpha's face was just as flushed as his own felt, stormy eyes narrowed into slits of their own.

In a blur of movement, they were on the floor with a harsh thud, Oikawa perched atop Iwaizumi's thighs as he dove in for the man's throat. Iwaizumi's nature wouldn't allow him to comply quietly, though, and he effortlessly rolled them over with a twist of his hips until he had Oikawa pinned to the floor. They bared their fangs at each other, guttural hisses and growls communicating in place of words as their hips moved in tandem. Iwaizumi was just as hard as Oikawa now, straining through their clothes for the relief of friction as they ground against each other.

Flickers of rationality fought to pierce the haze—thoughts like stop and this isn't right floating to the forefront of his mind and then disappearing just as quickly. After all, why not let this happen? It was only lust. Wanting to get his rocks off after a particularly sensual massage didn't have to mean anything. It didn't mean he was attracted to Iwaizumi, or alphas, or anything else for that matter. It was little more than simple, primal instinct.

Instinct that left them both blind to the approaching interruption until it was already too late.

"Excuse me for intrudin’. I heard a loud noise and just want to make sure— Holy shit."

Iwaizumi ripped himself away from Oikawa's body in the blink of an eye, both of them whipping their heads around to meet the astonished, gaping maw of the aforementioned brick shithouse on legs. Meian gawked at the two of them before finally closing his mouth and turning to leave.

"I'm gettin' Takeda."

"Wait!"

They both spoke up at once, scrambling to their unsteady feet. Meian reluctantly idled in the doorway, eyeing the two of them with suspicion. Iwaizumi was able to collect himself faster than Oikawa, running his hands through his hair.

"Don't—don't tell Takeda. This isn't what it looks like," he pleaded.

Meian arched a single eyebrow, the look on his face loud enough to say a thousand words. Oikawa dragged a hand down his face, skin still twitching here and there as the adrenaline rush gradually faded.

"He's right," he gritted out through his teeth, unable to meet either of their eyes. "I...I provoked him."

"...Uh-huh," Meian hummed. He regarded the two of them for a moment longer before heaving a long, drawn-out sigh and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "...Look—whatever. I don't really care one way or the other. Just...get dressed and get out of here. And Iwaizumi—"

"It won't happen again," Iwaizumi answered without pause, staring resolutely at some nondescript spot on the floor. "I promise."

"Good."

And with that, Meian shook his head with another sigh and left the room. Iwaizumi stayed glued in place while Oikawa stiffly walked back into the changing room to put his clothes back on. It was a bit uncomfortable to fit himself back into his pants, but he would survive. He pulled out the compact mirror he always carried on his person to arrange his hair into something close to controlled, grimacing at the angry red scratch marks starting to sprout all over his skin. Christ, did he and Iwaizumi really tear into each other that much in such a short amount of time? He wouldn't be able to perform on stage for at least a week looking like this.

Taking a deep breath, he pocketed the mirror and stepped back into the room, casting a wary look over at Iwaizumi, who was busying himself with...picking up the massage table. Did they knock that over? Surely not.

"...I—"

"I'm sorry," Iwaizumi cut in before Oikawa could even think about finishing his apology. Iwaizumi leaned forward on the table without meeting his eyes. "That was...stupid of me. It was just supposed to be a massage. I didn't—"

"I know," Oikawa said. Pressing his lips together, he stepped around the table to place a gentle hand on Iwaizumi's shoulder, resting it there until the alpha finally looked at him. Oikawa offered a small smile. "Don't be sorry. That was...exciting."

That was one word to describe it, at least. Iwaizumi's eyes widened as he stared at him. Rather than elaborate further, however, Oikawa cleared his throat and withdrew his hand to start walking toward the exit.

"Thank you," he said, lingering just long enough to glance back at Iwaizumi over his shoulder. "For the distraction."

And with that, he left Iwaizumi standing alone in the massage parlour, hiding his smile behind his scarf on his way out.