iwaizilla 🛸

he's in california for the first time.

his legs tingle as he crosses the tarmac toward the terminal with the rest of the passengers, flexing his fingers restlessly when they step through the doors and the cool air conditioning raises goosebumps on the exposed skin of his arms.

there's so much noise inside, dozens of people converging after landing just like him, many workers calling out while rushing from one place to another. among all the english, there are traces of other languages.

tooru's eyes sweep across the terminal until they finally land on the baggage carousel for his flight, and he moves closer to look for his suitcases. luckily, they don't take long to appear, and he adjusts his backpack before pulling his 20kg suitcase and the other 10kg one off the belt.

one black-brown and one green, covered in all sorts of stickers, some worn and faded, others brand new. his mother had asked him if he'd gone a little overboard when he told her how much luggage he was bringing for fifteen days. but for oikawa, it's fine. there are basic things, things he needs, things that are there just in case and things that are for iwa-chan.

he drags them along at either side as he walks towards the exit, nerves beginning to simmer beneath his skin over a slow fire. tooru's here, he's still a little sleepy, but he's really on american ground.

with his argentine passport in hand, he makes his way through customs and immigration, the whole process slow and tedious, barely paying attention to what they're asking him and only thinking if he activated the sim card properly, if iwa-chan got his message, if he replied, if he'll be waiting beyond the doors, if tooru'll have to get an uber, if he wrote down iwa-chan's address somewhere.

maybe it was a little reckless to tell him once he got on the plane, that he was coming, ignoring the fact that their last messages had been five months ago and their last conversation had been on instagram three months ago, when iwa congratulated him on his naturalization.

but he did it, and there's no taking it back.

his heart told him it wanted to risk absolutely everything, and who is oikawa to tell it no? who is tooru to tell himself no?

he loves hajime the way he loves the sun when it rains and the rain when the sun is shining. he loves hajime in every version of himself and across every distance. the silence hurts him, and the calm hurts him too.

tooru follows the group of passengers making their way towards the exit, his stomach twisting and his nerves are now biting at his skin from every direction. his breathing quickens a little when the doors open and they step outside to a sea of people waiting on the other side.

oikawa slowly makes his way through families reuniting through tears, couples throwing themselves into each other's arms, abandoned luggage, children shouting happily and bouncing on their feet, mechanical voices announcing flights and arrivals.

there's no sign of iwa, and tooru's heart shrinks and he wants to throw up.

the airport is huge and oikawa walks over a few empty seats between two overcrowded cafés, though he doesn't sit down. he leaves his suitcases at his side, his backpack on one of the chairs, slips a trembling hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, turning it on.

and his knees nearly give out when he sees the dozens of messages from iwa-chan, from hajime. the last ones, sent less than an hour ago.

iwa-chan 🦔

still cant fucking believe what u've done

u're the biggest asshole

im omw, there's traffic

but i'll get there

relief floods through him, and he has to blink when his eyes begin to sting with tears. he holds his phone in both hands, thinking and thinking and thinking about what to reply, until he notices iwa-chan is online. his eyes widen and his breath catches when he reads the "typing..."

what if...?

iwa-chan 🦔

turn around

and tooru does and he sobs, his face crumpling the way it always does when he's trying not to cry, when he sees iwaizumi standing only eight steps away instead of more than 8,000 kilometres, breathless, as he'd crossed the entire airport just for him, opening his arms as if there were nowhere else for him in the world

maybe there isn't.

tooru runs, with legs trembling, and crashes into hajime with the force of a meteor, sending them both stumbling backwards until iwaizumi anchors them firmly in place and keeps them upright in the middle of the collision. he feels one strong arm around his waist, the other across his back, and tooru sinks into his scent and his presence.

how could tooru have let this happen? how could he have let any crack grow wider instead of filling it with more love and patience and effort?

"i'm sorry," he murmurs quietly, tightening his arms around hajime's neck as he buries himself deeper against him. "i'm so sorry, hajime."

"it was both of us, idiot," he replies, his voice clear and damp, while the hand on his back strokes him with all the affection gathered over decades of an ethereal bond. "i can't believe you're here" he whispers against the skin of his neck, making it break out in goosebumps.

sniffling, oikawa slowly calms down, hajime's heart beating hard and real against his own.

it's been a miracle to make this trip to california and see hajime happen, the journey and the visa have been a disaster. but tooru wouldn't mind living somewhere between miracle and disaster if it's for iwa.

a millennium passes before they pull apart, but only enough to lift their gazes and look at each other and take in everything they've allowed themselves to miss. hajime looks bigger, more mature, softer. his eyes haven't lost their brightness or their colour and his skin is maybe a little darker and there's a piercing through his eyebrow that makes tooru smile at the image of kaa-chan being horrified by it.

tooru cradles hajime's face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs, feeling warmth spread across his own when he realizes hajime is looking at him too, studying him, drinking him in as if he'd gone years without water and had finally found an oasis of fresh water.

"i'm staying for fifteen days" he murmurs, looking into the eyes that watched him grow up.

"judging by everything you brought with you, i thought you'd be staying for a lifetime," hajime replies, but what he wanted to sound like a joke doesn't quite manage it.

"can i?" tooru asks breathlessly, courage running through his veins. "can i stay for a lifetime with you? this time for real, this time without running away?"

there's a gentle squeeze at his waist, pulling him even closer if that's possible and hajime's eyes fill with pure love.

"don't ask. you can, of course you can, tooru."

...

long live iwaoi airport reunions 🙂‍↕️

since he left his heart in miyagi and his soul in argentina and brought his body to california, iwaizumi’s birthdays have been much quieter than they used to be. mainly because it’s not easy to keep getting older far away from the people who watched you do it your whole life.

he settles for video calls with his parents and grandparents, replying to his friends’ messages the next day, and smiling stupidly at the compilation videos tooru makes him, with different songs, videos, and pictures every year because they have enough photos together to make a million more.

no parties, no candles to blow out, no presents, just the bare minimum, the quietest version possible so the nostalgia doesn’t pull quite so tight.

at least, that was how it went until he turned twenty-seven, debuted as athletic trainer for japan’s men’s national volleyball team and started spending his birthdays during every volleyball nations league.

year by year, bokuto and hinata make sure that he and every damn player they come across knows it’s his bday, singing to him no matter where they are, yelling “birthday boy!” or “birthday boy-san!” no matter where they are or announcing "yall know it's iwa-iwa's birthday??" no matter where they are.

suna makes edits of him covered in balloon and birthday hat stickers. hibarida-san gives him the cardboard birthday crown his daughter, ame-chan, lovingly makes every year so he can wear it throughout the day. hoshiumi asks him for as many tosses as the number of years he’s turning during warmups.

sakusa lets him shower before him. aran tugs on his ears as many times as the number of years he’s turning (which is why he prefers hoshiumi's gift). gao tries to reduce his workload by leading some stretches even though nobody listens to a damn thing he says.

ushijima congratulates him and wishes him many more healthy years. kageyama buys him the finest carton of drinkable yogurt. yaku pats his back as many times as his age.

and suddenly, his birthdays become loud again, become wanted, especially because oikawa tooru is once again within arm’s reach on his special day.

although, well, sometimes hajime wishes he were also six feet underground because the brat somehow manages to turn his birthday into a spectacle.

for his 27, he showed up in the hotel lobby wearing an inflatable godzilla costume that made him waddle like a duck and turn bright red from the heat.

for his 28, he spent the entire day wearing a ridiculous shirt covered from top to bottom with hajime’s face inside neon-colored hearts and the words IT’S MY BOY’S BIRTHDAY!! printed across it, barely readable.

for his 29, he decided every sports journalist in japan and argentina needed to know it was hajime’s birthday, assuming they didn’t already, and announced it into every microphone and camera he encountered while dragging his teammates and the japanese players into doing the same.

for his 30, tooru somehow got the entire dining hall to sing happy birthday a cappella while conducting them from atop a chair like a real orchestra director, leaving iwaizumi sinking into his seat, half mortified and half hopelessly in love.

for his 31, things were a bit of a disaster because kuroo and bokuto did a terrible job keeping him distracted and hajime returned to his room too early, discovering tooru half-naked on his bed while hinata helped wrap him in gift ribbon.

(still the best birthday sex they’d had to date if someone asks him)

but now, for his 32, with less than an hour left before the day ends, hajime is getting restless because oikawa hasn’t made a move. though, to be fair, this time they’ve barely seen each other with the japan's match against ukraine (which japan won) and argentina’s match against serbia (which argentina won).

he’s only managed to steal a gentle touch at tooru’s waist when they crossed paths, they’ve only exchanged glances through the crowd, soft smiles in hallways, quick kisses behind storage room doors where “happy birthday, old man” and “thanks, dummy” got lost between their mouths.

but nothing more.

and it’s irritating because right now there is absolutely nothing in this universe he wants more than to be with him.

“iwa-saaaan!” hajime blinks, pulled from his thoughts, lifting his head just in time to see hinata rushing toward him. "you have to come with me!" he says, skidding to a stop in front of him, practically vibrating.

“what?” hajime asks, baffled, as hinata grabs his arm.

“hurry, hurry!” he insists, tugging him up from the lobby couch where he’s been sulking for the past half hour.

“but wh—”

“no time for questions!” hinata cuts him off, still pulling. “come on, iwa-san!”

iwaizumi sighs and finally gets to his feet, letting hinata drag him off to wherever the hell this is headed so they can get it over with. he only hopes this isn’t because bokuto, or some part of bokuto, has gotten stuck somewhere terrible again.

but when they climb the stairs to the floor where his room is and stop in front of his door, his frown deepens.

“hinata, what’s going on?” his voice is more serious now as they stop.

his confusion grows when he watches shoyo open the door that should be locked from the inside before darting around him and positioning himself behind him.

“go in, go in!” ignoring the question entirely, hinata shoves him forward with that ridiculous strength he never looks like he possesses and iwa stumbles inside. “happy birthday and you’re welcome!” he flashes him a huge grin before shutting the door.

“what the hell…” hajime mutters, stunned, straightening immediately and looking around with all his senses on alert.

the room is dark and the curtains are closed, so he can barely make out any shapes. slowly, he raises a hand, searching for the light switch so he can find out what kind of nonsense hinata and oikawa have pulled this time when—

“haaaappy birthday to you.” a deep, gentle voice sings from the darkness and hajime’s eyes widen as he looks forward. oikawa steps out from behind the small wall separating the tiny entrance from the rest of the room, walking toward him while continuing to sing. “happy birthday, my dear iwa-chaaan” his hands hold up a small plate with a little cake and two candles, but hajime barely registers it.

he’s focused entirely on tooru, the way he sings, the way he looks at the candles, the way the tiny flames reflect in his eyes, the way the warm light kisses his face and paints him in sunset colors.

he watches him, until tooru stops in front of him and lifts his eyes to meet his own, full of a love that could rival his and still wouldn't fit inside the damn universe.

"haaappy birthday to youuu!" oikawa finishes singing, his smile so wide it shows all his teeth, his eyes narrowing, and, fuck it, he's the prettiest creature the world will ever see.

"you could've done this in the dining hall, idiot." it's the first thing iwa says, but a genuine smile is already drawn across his lips and he has to blink when his vision grows a little blurry.

"then it wouldn't have had the scare factor." oikawa teases. "and hurry up, iwa-chan, blow the candles!" he insists, holding the cake a little closer to him.

it's then that hajime notices the little cake is shaped like godzilla's profile, covered in frosting and chocolate sprinkles, with the number 3 and 2 candles stuck in the middle.

"and don't forget the wish!"

hajime lets out an amused snort and, once again, wishes for the same thing: tooru on every birthday, tooru in every day, tooru for his whole life, tooru in all his lives, tooru and only tooru. his tooru.

he blows out the candles and the room falls back into darkness, accompanied by oikawa's "yaaay." hajime finally turns on the light and gets to see his boyfriend in all his glory.

"happy birthday, old man-chan!" he congratulates him again, radiant as the sun, and hajime can do nothing but take the damn, cool cake from him with one hand and, with the other, pull him in by the waist to kiss him hard, swallowing his surprised gasp.

with practiced, because it isn't the first time he's kissed the life out of tooru while holding something in one hand, he guides him backwards, pleased when he hears tooru's soft laugh against his lips and feels his hands wrapping around his neck.

he parts his eyes just enough to set the cake down on the bedside table before they fall onto the bed (which he hopes is his and not aran's) and twist across the mattress, wrestling like children over who gets to be on top, laughing into each other's mouths while they complain and protest.

but oikawa is almost as strong as he is, and more stubborn, and more cheater, and he takes advantage of a moment of weakness when he rocks his hips against hajime's the way he knows he likes and draws a groan from him,

managing to flip them over and settle on top of his hips, his mischievous hands sliding across his torso until they reach the hem of his shirt.

"i wanna give you your 32 kisses, hajime," he sings softly, slipping his cold fingers beneath the shirt and slowly pushing it higher, his bangs messy over eyes hazy with desire and love, and that silly smile painted across lips pink from all the kissing, matching his cheeks.

hajime can't stop looking at him, how could he? his eyes never leave tooru, they follow him, lifting upwards as if looking at the moon when tooru leans over him again, barely missing a second of his face when he pulls hajime's shirt over his head and throws it to the other side of the room.

tooru looks at him with so much adoration, so much intensity. his hand moves slowly across his broad chest, calloused fingers gliding over defined muscle, and tooru bites his lip, completely absorbed, and that turns hajime on so much.

"what about the cake?" hajime jokes, his voice low, his own hand resting on tooru's thigh, his thumb lazily stroking his skin.

"don't pretend you care about the cake right now, iwa-chan," tooru scoffs, looking back into his eyes.

"it'll melt."

"i'm more worried about one little thing here." tooru smiles playfully, rocking his hips back slightly, just enough to brush against the hard bulge beneath hajime's sweatpants.

"one littl—?" but before he can protest, oikawa leans down over him and gives him the first of the 32 kisses on the lips, slow, sweet, warm.

and hajime melts just like the stupid cake will, his mind already growing hazy as tooru keeps scattering kisses across his face, drawing soft laughter from him when he moves down to his neck and the ticklish feeling gets to him.

and then he continues across his shoulders, down his chest, leaving kisses like featherlight caresses, lower and lower, until kiss number 31 ends near the waistband of his pants and tooru lifts his gaze, smiling drunk on love, resting his cheek against his thigh.

"kiss number 32 is going to be very long and very deep, iwa-chan," he says, while his fingers slip between the waistband of his pants and his skin, not pulling yet.

hajime's smile widens beneath his flushed cheeks and he reaches out to run a hand through tooru's hair.

"i trust my baby will make me feel very good," he whispers, in that tone that makes his boyfriend's eyes widen just a little, darken with desire, and makes his fingers tense. "and then," he continues, now stroking tooru's face, feeling the warmth of his skin, "i'll make you feel so, so good too. because there's nothing i want more, year after year, than making you happy."

he hopes aran doesn't come back to sleep here tonight.

or tomorrow.

actually, with all the affection he has for him, he hopes he switches rooms for the rest of the tournament because he fully intends to stretch this birthday present out until the very end.

…

happy birthday, hajime, my beautiful boyyyy 💚 and thank u sm @/furudate for gave us such a beautiful character, hope iwa enjoys his pretty gif (tooru) very much!!