#cassbz

“—which you can find in the back of the room.  Come to me with any questions.”

The room burst into activity as everyone around them—everyone who had been paying attention—started assembling their flasks and chemicals in front of them.  Hajime whipped his head around, trying to piece together what the teacher had instructed them from what he was seeing.  Okay, three flasks, yes… A bunsen burner… He grabbed for the containers of chemicals at the center of their lab bench and then squinted at Hanamaki.  A calculator, okay… And was that a sandwich?

“Iwa-chan, gimme,” Oikawa instructed, hand extended for one of the chemicals.

Hajime turned and reluctantly handed it over.  He lit the bunsen burner and waited for Oikawa to figure out what step was next.

“You know,” Oikawa muttered, “I’m awfully offended that you doubt my chemistry skills.”

Hajime flicked his forehead, to which Oikawa tittered and rubbed the spot.  “You’re a walking disaster.”

Oikawa grumbled to himself.  He added something to the flask and stirred.  After a moment, he giggled to himself.  “I think we make the best lab partners.  Wanna know why?”

“No.”

“We have great chemistry.”

Hajime groaned.  

“Hand me that bottle.”

Hajime sighed and handed it over.  “You know, maybe we’d get along better if you refrained from your shitty jokes.”

Oikawa scoffed.  He glanced away from the flask for a second to make a kissy face at Hajime.  “You love me, Iwa-chan.  That’s why you’re my boy—“

A bang went off, silencing the entire room.  Hajime flinched instinctively, grabbing Oikawa in his arms, one hand pressing Oikawa’s face into the curve between his neck and shoulder.  They stayed like that for a moment, frozen, until he heard the first laugh.  

Slowly, he peeked, and blinked at the sight of a completely clean, untouched lab set-up.  Hanamaki and Matsukawa, on the other hand, looked like they had just taken a bath in soot, and stood there giggling over their war zone of a table.

Hajime shoved Oikawa away, cheeks burning crimson.  

“Oh my God,” Oikawa said softly, in awe.  “My hero!  Iwa-chan!  You tried to save me!”

“Shut up,” Hajime hissed.  He turned back to their flask, which was bubbling away but definitely not explosive.  “I thought you’d blown us up.”

Oikawa looked offended.  “I told you that you’d get an A.”  He redirected his attention to the flask, but Hajime couldn’t help but notice the small grin playing on his lips.  It was cute, he admitted to himself.  He bumped Oikawa’s shoulder with his own after a moment.

Oikawa glanced up, that soft and tender smile still on his lips.

“Well, I’ve been cuddling Makki and Mattsun’s little baby for a while now.” He lightly rocked the boy, gave Hajime an expectant, cheeky grin. “Maybe my big baby Iwa-chan wants a little affection too?”

“Psh. Get real.”

“No, seriously,” Tooru said, dropping the act and studying him in earnest, “is something the matter? You’ve been really quiet and staring at—well, anything but me since we got here. Are you jealous? Do you want to hold him too?”

The extraordinary sensation had been plaguing him since they got here, indeed, but Hajime considered it more ‘longing’ than it was ‘jealousy’. Takahiro and Issei were still perpetually ten-year olds but still an old married couple, certainly getting old now that they were going to have an actual ten-year old in their family some years into the future. They looked so happy and seemed to fit so well together, all three of them, that Hajime couldn’t help his imagination running wild, forming images in which life was the same for him—for him and for the man that he yearned to become the same kind of sappy, overjoyed, old married couple with.

Maybe it was jealousy after all.

“Okay, fine, I’m jealous,” he admitted, held a hand up when Tooru moved to pass the sleeping boy onto him, “but not of you, or the baby.”

“Then who?”

Hajime exhaled through his nose. “The…proud parents.”

Tooru’s contemplative expression froze on his face well enough for Hajime to watch it slowly change, melt amidst a sea of light pink skin and into one of wide eyes and teeth sinking into lips and rapid blinks. He swallowed, turned away, but even at an angle Hajime could see the unrealistic curl of his mouth, desperate not to form a smile, and the slight tremble of his fingers equally desperate not to suddenly drop the fragile life he had in his hands.

“Huh,” he said, voice shaking in the same way it did whenever there was a surprise he didn’t want to spoil, and laughed, “and here I thought you’ve had enough of me crying and waking you up at night.”

“Sometimes,” Hajime said, after his own short laugh. “But you’re not quite the right size.” 

This time, Tooru allowed his smile to reach his slightly-teary eyes, directed both of them at Hajime. “Are you serious?” he whispered, like he couldn’t afford to speak any louder.

“When am I ever not about you?”

Tooru squeezed his eyes shut, the wrinkling of his nose pulling at Hajime’s own smile, and took one deep and controlled breath. “We need to find Makki and Mattsun and give them their baby back.”

“Hm? Why?”

“So that I can hug you—” Tooru hurled himself in Hajime’s direction, stopped himself from crashing just in time to plant a quick kiss on his husband’s cheek “—and we can talk about our own.”