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Laughter and music filter through the walls, bright colorful lights flitting past outside the window. A song in some foreign language Iwaizumi doesn’t understand is blasting at full volume, disrupting the usually serene night. The celebration of today’s game is full of joviality, congratulations, and chattering outside on the field, but Iwaizumi and Oikawa are immersed in their little bubble in the latter’s room.
The setter has just exited the bathroom and bounds onto the bed, shoving his head onto Iwaizumi’s lap with his hair fresh with dripping droplets from the shower. He’d been bombarded with reporters and interviews straight after the game, then it was a celebratory dinner with his team. Oikawa loves his teammates dearly, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been jittery with impatience to meet up with the one person he needed to be with after the grueling match.
“You’re going to catch a cold like that,” Iwaizumi scolds, lifting up Oikawa’s head to make the other man sit up. Japan’s athletic trainer has already changed out of his uniform and is now in comfortable sweatpants and a white t-shirt.
“Iwa-chaaaan,” Oikawa whines, adamantly letting his head remain a dead weight in Iwaizumi’s hands. “I’m tired.”
“That’s why I’m going to dry it for you, dumbass,” Iwaizumi replies swiftly, nudging the setter’s head again. Oikawa grumbles but complies, freeing Iwaizumi to retrieve one of the fluffy towels from the bathroom.
When he returns, he sits against the headboard and maneuvers Oikawa into the space between his legs so that he can dry the man’s hair with the towel. Humming happily, Oikawa closes his eyes and murmurs, “Iwa-chan is the best.”
Iwaizumi continues rubbing the towel over the other’s head, his neck heating up and replying abashedly, “Well, you are tired today. You played really well. Probably your best.”
“Yeah.” Oikawa falls into silence for a few moments, staring straight ahead. Iwaizumi is gently drying the right side of Oikawa’s hair when the man speaks again. “I was thinking of you the entire time.”
Iwaizumi keeps quiet, anticipating the next words out of the setter’s mouth.
“I can’t believe I’m not going to see you again for a month,” Oikawa mutters, longing and reluctance spilling into his tone. He’s grateful for the chance to visit Iwaizumi for the Olympics in Tokyo, but the separation is once again too soon, with his obligation to return to Argentina for at least a month for press conferences and the like. It’s been this way for the past few years, with only occasional physical meetups that Oikawa cherished and Iwaizumi’s face in his phone screen for their weekly video calls. The Argentinean setter knows he should be grateful for any form of contact with Iwaizumi—that they’re even together, their feelings persisting through the miles of distance and months of separation—but he can’t help but long for a normal relationship. One where he can proudly introduce Iwa-chan to all his daily acquaintances and friends; one where he can wake up to Iwa-chan’s adorably grumpy face and burn breakfast together; one where they can be physical constants in each other’s lives, instead of a presence living in phone screens.
As if reading all of Oikawa’s somber thoughts, Iwaizumi places the towel on the bedside table and coaxes Oikawa to turn around and sit in his lap so that they can face each other. Oikawa instinctively wraps his legs around Iwaizumi’s hip, drawing the two closer together, and lowers his head to bury it into Iwaizumi’s neck.
“You’re flying back for Takeru’s birthday though, right?” Iwaizumi asks, trying to console his boyfriend. “We’ll see each other then.”
“Yeah, but it’s a whole month,” Oikawa protests softly, tightening his hold on Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “I wish I could see you every day, and wake up with you, and use up all your hot water, and show everyone around me what an amazing boyfriend I have. I want you to introduce me to your friends—”
“You already know all of my friends, Loserkawa. Have you forgotten who went through all of my chats and talked to every single one of my LINE friends?”
“—but what about your future friends, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa continues, his train of thought speeding down the tracks. “I want to be there so you can introduce everyone to your fantastic, successful, hot, boyfriend.”
“I think you mean whiny, annoying, and childish boyfriend.” Iwaizumi says, a teasing lilt to his tone. Despite his words, he runs a hand up Oikawa’s spine reassuringly, angling his face to nuzzle the man’s curls, the lemony scent filling his nostrils. “But I don’t want that.”
Oikawa pulls away abruptly, his heart dropping down a deep abyss and staring at Iwaizumi with panicked, huge eyes. Was this what he thought it was? Iwa-chan had finally gotten tired of him and now he was going to—
“I want to introduce you as my husband instead,” Iwaizumi tells him boldly, reaching to pull out the first drawer of the bedside table and take out a square velvet box and now Oikawa’s heart is beating ten thousand times per minute because—
“Um,” Iwaizumi says, suddenly seeming flustered and shy as he slowly pops open the box, where a simple, silver band rests. “I… I had a whole speech prepared but now I can’t remember any of it, um, I just… I’ve spent nearly my entire life with you and nobody else makes me feel the same way you do, and I want to wake up next to you and yell at you for using all the hot water and introduce you to everyone I know. So…” Iwaizumi stares straight into Oikawa’s eyes, affection and love swirling passionately in his own. “… Oikawa Tooru, will you be the second half to my soul for the rest of my life and marry me?”
Iwaizumi’s breath audibly hitches, but he’s given no further chance to be nervous because the other man flings himself at Iwaizumi, nearly toppling the ring box.
"Yes, yes, Hajime!” Oikawa yells, tears pooling at his eyes from the ecstasy of the moment and clinging onto Iwaizumi like a lifeline.
Iwaizumi chuckles and slides the ring onto his now-fiancé’s slender finger when Oikawa finally pulls away. The man immediately stares down at it in awe, like he can’t believe this is actually real.
“I know the ring’s not much, but—” Iwaizumi starts to explain, but is cut off by Oikawa’s offended squawk.
“Iwa-chan, are you kidding me?” He questions indignantly, squinting at the other man. “Do you think I care what the ring looks like when it’s you I’m marrying?”
“You’re so goddamn cheesy, Loserkawa,” Iwaizumi says with an eye roll and a shake of his head despite the smile on his face.
“You’re one to talk Iwa-chan, you should’ve listened to your stupidly sappy proposal.”
Iwaizumi lightly shoves Oikawa, who shrieks playfully and flops onto Iwaizumi to initiate a wrestling match.
“I need to go pack for my flight tomorrow,” Iwaizumi announces reluctantly after successfully pinning down Oikawa, who looks up at him with those dejected wide eyes. “Hey, don’t be sad. We have the rest of our lives together now, remember?”
“Now who’s being cheesy, Iwa-chan?”
“Shut up, Crappykawa. Don’t make me regret this.”
“Mean, Iwa-chan! I know you love me!”
“… Yeah. Somehow, I still do.”