Had Ushi been like this before the party? Iwa couldn’t say that he’d noticed if he had. They’d even been joking around a bit as they put on their Christmas sweaters. Ushi had gone the more traditional route, wearing a nicely fitted dark grey sweater with a few white snowflakes dotting the front. Meanwhile, Iwa had gone with an ugly Christmas sweater in an attempt to annoy his best friend. It was a hideously green thing with an alien on the front that was wearing a santa hat. The words ‘Peace On Earthlings’ was emblazoned over the whole thing and honestly, Iwa couldn’t have felt more proud of his choice.

Thinking back on it, even on the ride over they had still been joking, though Ushi had seemed to grow a little nervous the closer they got to Oikawa’s apartment. He’d chalked it up to getting ready to be bombarded with Tooru’s intensity. While the hostility that had once been there between the two was now mostly down to small teases, he knew that his partner was still worried about doing or saying something that might upset the man.

But the night had truly seemed to go off without a hitch. There was good food, lots of laughs and it had been nice being able to catch up with old friends and old rivals alike.

Not to mention it was fun seeing who was now seeing who and watching others trying to find a holiday date.

“So… did you see what Bokuto was up to this evening?” Iwa asked with a little chuckle, hoping that maybe talking of some of the lighter moments of the night would help lift his darling's mood. “He kept trying to find ways to catch Akaashi under the mistletoe. Kuroo seemed to be doing the same with Daichi… at least until Sawamura called him an idiot and just kissed him by the snack table. Captain Kitty-cat turned so red he could’ve led Santa’s sleigh!”

Hajime couldn’t help laughing even as he spoke, thinking of how absolutely shocked Kuroo had been at the former Crow captain acting so brazenly in front of them all. “And I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard when Mattsukawa and Hanamaki kept getting in between Oikawa and Suga when they kept trying to get some alone time. I think if Yachi hadn’t distracted Issei, those two would’ve never gotten a moment together.”

As he pulled up outside their building and parked, Iwa had to stop a moment to wipe a few tears of mirth from his eyes as he thought about the look on Oikawa’s face. Glancing over he noticed that rather than getting a smile out of his boyfriend, the man only seemed to look a little more uncomfortable.

“Ushi?” Iwa murmured, turning the car off and giving him his full attention.. “Love, what’s wrong? And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I know you. You’ve been acting differently since we left Oikawa’s. Did something happen I should know about?” A protective spark instantly flared in the former Ace’s chest thinking that anyone would’ve said something to hurt his partner.

“No. It’s fine, Hajime. It’s nothing,” Ushi murmured, opening the car door and already stepping out into the cold night air.

“Ushi? Ushijima, hang o-gah!” Iwa called out, opening his own car door to follow, but getting hung up on his seatbelt and effectively gagging himself. After a bit of floundering he finally got himself free and quickly closed the car door behind him before rushing off after his partner. Damn the man and his long legs!

Ushijima had already made his way into the flower shop that he ran below their apartment, flicking the lights, but not so much as turning his head to check on the little plants and flowers that lined the shelves. Something Ushijima always did when he entered his shop.

“Ushijima, wait!” Iwa called out as he made it inside.

The former Shiratorizawa captain was standing just at the base of the stairs leading up to their home, his shoulders slumped and his back toward Iwa. “Ushi… please… tell me what’s bothering you. I can’t fix something when I don't know what the problem is.”

“This is something you can’t fix, Hajime,” Ushijima said quietly, the somber tone of his voice making Iwa’s chest ache.

“Hey, you don’t know that. I’m great at fixing things,” he offered gently as he closed the shop door behind them and made his way closer to Ushijima. “Remember when you said I couldn’t fix the shelf in the kitchen? Fixed it. Remember when you said I couldn’t save the dinner we made last week? Fixed it.”

“No. You ‘fixed’ the shelf by throwing it away and you ‘fixed’ dinner by ordering take out,” Ushijima murmured, though Iwa was almost positive he heard the other’s voice lighten just a bit.

“And? Just because the remedy wasn’t what was expected the problems were still fixed thanks to me being just that amazing,“ Iwa offered, now finally standing close enough to Ushi to lay his hand on his shoulder and give it a soft squeeze. “So please. Tell me what happened so I can try to fix this too?”

Iwa waited patiently for some sign that Ushi was going to give in and for a brief moment he worried that his partner was simply going to refute his question again and head upstairs. But after a few more seconds, Ushijima finally seemed to come to a decision as he turned around to face him.

Iwa felt his heart break all over again to see his expression so downcast and the way his teeth were worrying his lower lip in a way that told him just how uncertain his boyfriend was.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, sweetheart. I promise I’ll do my best to fix any problems you have,” Iwa murmured, bringing a hand up to gently cup his darling’s cheek and watching as Ushi gently nuzzled into his palm at the soft contact.

“I know you would. But… what if the problem… is me?” Ushijima said quietly and that protective spark flared up once again in Iwa’s chest, his brows furrowing as he looked over his obviously disheartened and hurting partner.

“There is absolutely nothing… nothing about you that needs fixing, Wakatoshi. You are perfect. You are the most perfect of perfect perfections. If you were any more perfect it would be illegal,” Iwa said softly with as much conviction as he could muster. “Now… tell me who told you otherwise so I can drive back to Shitty-kawa’s party and kick their ass. And I swear to god if it was Trashy-kawa himself there will literally be hell to pay.”

Ushijima’s eyes widened as he heard that, his cheeks flushing pink. It would’ve been endearing if Iwa wasn’t feeling the need to make someone answer for their transgressions against his boyfriend.

“No. Hajime, I promise that no one said anything. Nothing. At all……. to me,” Ushi whispered, slowly losing steam as he talked and letting his gaze fall to the floor between them, unable to look Iwa in the eyes anymore.

“What do you mean? People were talking to us all night,” Iwa said gently as he watched Ushi slowly drawing into himself once more.

“No. People were talking to you all night, Hajime,” Ushijima explained slowly and calmly in that precise way he did. Simply stating facts without adding any extra fluff to it. “After introductions I was not needed for much more conversation. Sawamura spoke to me a bit before Kuroo’s antics drew him away, but apart from that… I wasn’t able to join in to the same conversations as everyone else. I… wasn’t sure how to and I fear they didn’t know how to include me either.”

Iwa frowned deeply as he heard that and shook his head. “Why didn’t you say anything? You know if you were feeling uncomfortable or lonely all you needed to do was say something,” he offered as Ushijima shook his head.

“You were enjoying yourself, Hajime. I do not wish to keep you from your friends and former teammates simply because I can’t be as… outgoing as the rest of you. I anticipated that there would be some hesitance to talk to me. It’s something I am used to. I just… let it get to me a bit more this evening then I should have. And I didn’t want to say anything because I did not wish to upset you, which I can see I have already done.”

“Of course, I’m upset! I just found out that I was enjoying a party where my boyfriend was being ignored by not just my friends, but by me too!” Iwa said, growling a bit for being so caught up in catching up with his old friends that he hadn’t even noticed how uncomfortable or lonely Ushi had gotten. And he got it. He did. Most of the guys there had been Ushijima’s rivals in some way or another and yeah, he was a bit intimidating, but that shouldn’t have been any reason not to talk to him.

Iwaizumi pulled himself from his own thoughts as he felt Ushi moving away from where his hand was still cupping his jaw, watching as the former Ace took a step back with his head bowed. “I’m sorry, Hajime. I promise it was never my intention to ruin this night for you,” the taller man whispered and if Iwa thought his heart had felt broken before it was shattered here and now.

Quickly stepping forward he wrapped his arms around Ushijma’s chest and hugged him close, wishing for not the first time that he was taller so he could coddle this gentle giant of a man.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Ushijima,” Iwa whispered against the man’s chest, feeling the way he was frozen against him. “I am the one that needs to apologize. I knew that going there we were going to be seeing more of my friends than yours. And I also know that you aren’t a social butterfly, which is not a bad thing in the slightest. No one can be like Bo or Kuroo in that category. But I should’ve remembered that and made sure to include you more. I was unfair to you. And for that I am very, very sorry.”

Iwa could feel the way Ushijima’s breath hitched in his chest for a moment before finding his partner’s arms wrapping around him in return. “But from now on please don’t hesitate to say something to me. Okay, love? I want you to be happy and comfortable too. Just because everyone was talking to me doesn’t mean that I don’t want to spend time with you too.”

Iwa could feel the way Ushi nodded above him, effectively nuzzling into his hair and making him chuckle a little at the contact. “And look! Now it’s just going to be you and me on Christmas, pretty nice, eh? You’ll have me all to yourself. Isn’t that the greatest gift of all?” he asked gently, hoping to lighten the mood even more as he gave Ushi a soft squeeze around his middle.

“Yes. It is the best gift,” the taller man murmured softly and Iwa was incredibly grateful to be able to hide against Ushi’s chest for a moment because how could someone this sweet actually exist?! The blush on his cheeks needed to calm down a bit before he could even pretend to try and say anything back.

“There is still one thing though, Ushi,” Iwa murmured against the soft sweater once he had composed himself, trying hard not to smile too much.

“Oh? What is that, Hajime?” Ushi asked, leaning back so he could look down at his smaller partner.

“Well… I promised that I would fix this problem, but I don’t think it’ll be truly fixed until I see that smile of yours,” Iwa said gently, leaning back a little and looking up at Ushi with a playful glint in his eyes.

Ushijima’s brow furrowed slightly at that and he shook his head. “But, I’m fine? And I did smile. You were just hiding against my chest so you didn’t see it,” he stated simply, making Iwa blush. He refused to seem embarrassed by this, however, as Ushi continued to talk. “You don’t have to fix anything, Iwa. I promise I’m okay.”

“Hmm… I don’t know,” Iwa murmured to himself, letting his hands drift down to rest against Ushi’s sides. His thumbs began to soothe little circles against the soft fabric of his sweater as he pretended to be deep in thought. “Can I really take your word for that? You told me you were fine earlier when really you weren’t. So perhaps you are only telling me you were smiling when really you weren’t? See my dilemma?” Iwa could feel Ushi’s sides flinching slightly under his soft touch and he couldn’t stop his smile from growing. He could also see the dawning realization appearing on Ushi’s face and the way his boyfriends lips started to curve up into a nervous smile was one of the most precious things he’d ever seen. “Iwa? Hajime? There is no need for thi-hihis! No! I promise I was smihihilihi-nohohoho!” Ushi’s arms instantly moved down, his hands trying to hold onto Iwa’s wrists to push them away.

Hearing those wonderful giggles starting to bubble up and seeing the smile appearing had Iwa smiling in return, his fingers still managing to lightly scribble against the man’s sides. “What? What was that, Ushi? I’m sorry I can’t hear you, I’m busy trying to get you to smile,” he teased, sending quickly little tickles first to one of Ushi’s sides then the other as the man shimmied back and forth between his hands.

Ushi’s cheeks flushed at that as he tried to bite back the giggles that continued to escape him. “B-But I ahaham! I’m smihihiling, Iwahaha!” he laughed, trying to take a few steps back to the stairs.

Hajime found himself chuckling as he watched the man and decided that while his darling Ushi was definitely smiling, he wasn’t willing to stop his antics just yet.

“I don’t know. You said I’m not great at fixing things so this time I have to be incredibly thorough,” Iwa teased, his fingers moving up a little higher under Ushi’s weak grip and starting to massage into his lower ribs.

The former Shiratorizawa Ace jumped at the sensation, his arms clamping to his sides as he shook his head. “Wahahahait! Wait, Hahahajime!” Ushi laughed brightly, his cheeks now a lovely rose color as he continued to try and wriggle free. “Yo-You dihihihid it!”

Iwa couldn’t help laughing more as he saw his wiggly darling, and sadly it was enough to distract him and allow his partner to break free. As soon as Ushijima saw his chance he turned, quickly trying to make his way up the steps to their apartment as frantic giggling still escaped him. “Y-You’re a mahahahanster!” Ushi called behind him, the somber atmosphere from before dissipating in the ridiculousness and playfulness of this moment.

Standing at the base of the stairs, Iwa couldn’t help the warmth that blossomed in his chest from watching his boyfriend finally smiling properly once more. “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?! I’m trying to fix the smile problem!” Iwa called after Ushijima, letting him get a few more steps ahead before finally giving chase.

“I’m smiling! You don’t have to d-do this, H-Hajimehehe!” Ushijima called back, zipping in through their front door and already making a mad dash for the living room.

Iwa chuckled as he made it into the apartment, zeroing in on his darling and realizing he was trying to put the sofa between them as some sort of buffer.

“Oh no you don’t!” Iwa cried out, reaching for the back of Ushi’s sweater, his fingers just brushing the material and making the larger man squeak. Something Iwa never would’ve thought Ushijima was capable of all those years ago before they got to know each other. Now, it was something else he got to add to his list of things he loved about this man.

“I’m smiling! I’m smiling I pr-promihihise!” Ushijima laughed as he tried to get around to the other side of the sofa, but while Ushijima definitely had some power behind him he was a big man. Iwa had agility on his side and was going to use it to his full advantage!

The moment came when Ushijima attempted to maneuver himself between the coffee table and the sofa, the space just a little too tight for him to keep up his momentum. And this was when Iwa finally took his chance and pounced… literally.

With just a few large strides to get him to the right distance, Iwa launched himself at his boyfriend, tackling him down onto the sofa in one big heap. Ushijima definitely hadn’t been expecting such an attack if the loud yelp was anything to go by. But there was no mistaking the moment he realized his doom was nigh as he began to wriggle under Iwa attempting to roll him over as the former Aoba Johsai Ace settled on Ushi’s back.

“Iwaizumi! Iwa! You fixed i-it! You already fihihiHIHIHI! NOHOHOHOAHAHA!” Ushijima’s hysterical laughter instantly filled their small apartment as Iwa’s fingers found their mark, sneaking under the poor man’s arms as he’d been attempting to pull himself up by the arm of the sofa. In a matter of moment’s Ushi’s arms had come crashing back down to his sides, trapping Hajime’s hands against his worst spot.

“I already did what, Ushi? I’m sorry I didn’t quite catch that?” Iwa cooed, settling himself more comfortably on Ushi’s back. His fingers scribbled lightly right in the center of his poor boyfriend's underarms, earning him a ridiculous squeal followed by the loudest belly laughter yet.

“Plehe-hic-hehehase! N-no mohohohoha-hic-hahaha!” Ushijima cackled, attempting to both curl up and flail as Iwa’s fingers began to massage deep circles right under his armpits against his upper ribs.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” he cooed, ducking down to murmur playfully against Ushi’s ears and giggling a bit as the man squeaked at the slightly ticklish sensation. He’d forgotten how sensitive his sweethearts ears could be and pressed a few quick, tickly kisses against the shell of his rosy ear. Ushi absolutely jumped at each press of his lips, giggling so adorably hard between his laughter that his voice began to rise in pitch.

“Yehehehe-NOHOHohohoahahahaha!” Ushi began to say before Iwa decided to be a bit of a butt, ducking down to blow a raspberry against the back of the poor man's neck as his hands wriggled free from under his arms. In a flash they were on the move too. Sneaking down to make their way under the man’s sweater to tease and scribble against his sides and the sides of his tum that he could reach from where his boyfriend was lying on the sofa.

“No? You’re not sure? Well then I guess I should continue, right?” Iwa chuckled as Ushi shook his head, turning it so that Iwa could now definitely see that there was a smile on his darling’s face. A warm, carefree smile filled with laughter that made Iwa’s heart feel light and so full of love he didn’t know how he was able to contain it all for this man. “I’ll ask one more time… are you sure that I was able to fix this?”

“Ye-hic-hehehehes, Hahahajimehehehehe!” Ushijima squeaked one last time before his laughter fell silent.

With one last raspberry to the side of Ushi’s neck and a teasing flutter of his fingers to the man's lower ribs, Iwa finally stopped his attack. His hands began to sooth softly along Ushijima’s sides as he felt his boyfriend slowly starting to get his breath back. “You okay, love?” Iwa murmured softly, feeling the way Ushi panted and giggled breathlessly beneath him.

“I… I-I ahaham,” Ushijima wheezed, giving a little shake of his head though his eyes closed now from the adrenaline rush and the mini attack. “You… really dihidn’t have to do that.”

Iwa chuckled at that and ducked down to kiss the back of the man’s head. “I think I did. Because now you can’t keep that smile off your face,” Iwa teased gently, getting a tired chuckle from his partner in return. “But I hope you know that I really am sorry for earlier. Your happiness and comfort is one of the most important things to me, Ushi. Never be afraid to talk to me about anything or to let me know how you’re feeling. I want to make sure you always feel welcome, happy and content.”

“Thank you, Hajime,” Ushi whispered back after a moment, his voice sounding just a little thicker and Iwa moved so he could lay down on his partner, hugging him softly where he nestled against his back.

“You never have to thank me for that, Ushijima. I love you. And I’ll always be there to fix whatever troubles you,” Iwa promised softly, leaning over slightly to catch Ushijima’s eyes before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Now… why don’t we get settled with some hot cocoa and some holiday movies before bed?” he asked, pressing one more kiss to Ushi’s nose before carefully sitting up and climbing off the taller man.

Ushi’s nose crinkled at the light kiss and he smiled more as he sat up. “As long as we don’t have to watch ‘Home Alone” again. It is not the holiday classic you think it is,” Ushi said softly as he stood and made his way toward the kitchen.

Iwa gasped at that, covering his mouth in mock horror. “How can you say that?! It literally takes place during Christmas!” he asked, following his boyfriend into the kitchen.

“Yes, but it’s about home invaders attempting to break in only to be stopped by a small child who was forgotten by his parents. That is not a Christmas movie. That’s a bad parenting movie.”

“Hey! If you want to start poking holes in holiday movies, why don’t we take a look at some of your favorite, hmm? Does ‘Rise Of The Guardians’ ring any bells?”

“Yes. Christmas bells. For it has Santa as a main character. Your movie has a pizza delivery man and a tarantula.”

The rest of the evening was filled with easy banter, cocoa, movies and Iwa realizing that even though there were many things he could fix and many reasons to love Ushi… the man’s movie tastes might actually be something he would have to admit defeat on.

Iwaizumi yawns into his hand, sitting up and letting his feet slide off the dashboard. He lets his hand drag down his face, catching on his skin slightly. He sighs, cracking his neck a little.

“Not enough sleep last night?” Daichi asks dryly, taking a bite of his chicken wrap.

“Rough morning,” Iwaizumi replies, “Kyoutani made another mess I had to clean up for him.”

“You can’t fight all his battles,” his partner reminds him, giving him a knowing side-eye.

Iwaizumi rolls his own eyes, “He’s still learning. Just give him time.”

“Your patience astounds me.”

Iwaizumi cracks a smile, tipping his hat up, “You’ve met Oikawa.”

Daichi lets out a bark of a laugh, caught off guard as it slips past his lips. He chuckles into his wrap and Iwaizumi can’t help breaking into his own grin, playfully slapping the man’s shoulder, “Hey, don’t be an ass.”

“I’m the ass? You’re the one who said it.”

“I’m allowed to say it, I’ve earned it.” Iwaizumi replies, leaning back against his seat. He stares out at the darkened street, nothing still coming into view, “How much longer are we stuck out here?”

Daichi quiets down as he glances at the car clock, doing some mental math, “Another hour at least.”

Iwaizumi groans, “Alright.” He twists around, reaching for a bag of chips in the back, grimacing when the one he spots is salt and vinegar flavor, “You like this crap?”

Daichi blinks, glancing at the package, “Suga’s a big fan,” he shrugs.

Iwaizumi sighs as he opens it up, “Oikawa swears by them,” He digs a hand in and shoves a chip into his mouth. He grimaces, tongue puckering at the taste, “Awful.”

“You don’t have to eat them,” Daichi points out.

“They’re the only chips here,” Iwaizumi counters, popping another chip in his mouth, with slightly less disgust.

“How’s he doing, by the way?” Daichi asks after a beat of silence, fingers drumming against the steering wheel.

Iwaizumi feels his easy smile slip, the salt burning at his tongue--or maybe it’s the vinegar, “He’s fine.”

Daichi hums, hands squeezing the steering wheel, dropping the subject. They sit in an awkward silence, only punctuated with the crunching of chips every few seconds. Until, finally, Daichi speaks up again, “So what did Kyoutani do this time?”

Iwaizumi snorts, memories flooding him suddenly as he straightens himself up again, licking at a salty finger, “He’s such a moron. You know Yahaba?”

“Who?”

“Yahaba Shigeru?”

“Sounds familiar but I can’t place it.”

“He’s a junior lawyer at the firm Oikawa works at. He’s always at the courthouse though, doing god knows what there. Anyway, I asked Kyoutani to go to the courthouse to drop off some documents with the court secretary. This moron barges in there and assumes Yahaba is the secretary, barking at him to file these away properly and what not. I guess you haven’t met Yahaba, but he is one vengeful person. So, apparently, he played along, acting like some sort of sweet secretary before rolling into Kyoutani about his absolute disrespect. Really shattered his ego. Yahaba wrote up a full complaint and sent it over and I’ve had to deal with it ever since.”

“Jeeze,” Daichi mumbles, “That’s...really bad.”

Iwaizumi waves it off, “Yahaba was trying to scare him, we talked about it, it’s fine. I think it may have worked, I’ve never seen Kyoutani so terrified and quiet.” He laughs, “It was pretty funny.”

Daichi nods slowly, face still morphed in sour disbelief, “I don’t know how you do it. Tanaka can get rowdy but he means well, and he always listens to me in the end.”

“Must be nice,” Iwaizumi sighs, but he keeps his smile on regardless, “I don’t mind honestly, it adds some spice in my life. Kyoutani’s a good kid, deep down. I’m happy to help guide him along.”

Daichi hums, fingers again coming up to squeeze the bottom of the steering wheel, dark eyes staring straight ahead at the shady road in front of him. His features soften, lips curling up and he murmurs, “You sound just like a proud father.”

Iwaizumi chuckles, leaning an elbow against the car door to rest his head on his palm. Fingers dig into his cheek, another stressor rippling through his stomach, and he tries to swallow it down as best he can, covering himself up with an offended sigh, “You callin’ me old?”

Daichi rolls his eyes, “I’m being serious, Iwaizumi. You’d make a great dad.”

Iwaizumi shrugs, willing this conversation to evaporate with the hunch of his shoulders. He stays quiet, eyes focused on the road. He eats another shitty chip to occupy his mouth with something.

Iwaizumi has always wanted children. Has always wanted to be a dad to some little bundle of joy. He thinks it probably started with him being an only child. He remembers when he was younger begging his parents countless times for a little brother, hell even a little sister, but to no avail.

He remembers feeling incredibly envious when Oikawa’s nephew was born. He hated how ungrateful Oikawa had been about the whole thing. “Nee-chan made me hold Takeru after he was born and he was so squirmy and ugly it was awful,” he remembers his best friend saying at the time.

Iwaizumi never got a younger sibling, and so he set his sights on having his own child. But life has a funny way of impeding his dreams because instead he falls in love with Oikawa and Ushijima, two men with little to no interest in children. Correction: in the former’s case, he absolutely abhors them.

Oikawa has always been disgusted by children, even when he was one. Iwaizumi recalls countless times, Oikawa--always more mature than his peers, gifted, ahead of the curve--sneering at how dirty, how loud, how annoying kids were. Iwaizumi had always been incredibly annoyed at this because he loved rolling around in the mud and hunting for bugs and running and screaming. And he knew Oikawa did too, deep down inside whenever Iwaizumi coerced him to play one of his games for once.

Oikawa’s disdain for children only grew as he did. Iwaizumi remembers, one specific conversation with an upsetting amount of clarity, having burned it into his mind through the constant replays at night. They were in a cafe, back in college, waiting for Ushijima to return with their drink orders. A mother was trying to shush her toddler, screaming and crying by the counter. She was unsuccessful and soon ushered him outside with a flurry of apologies to the barista.

Oikawa had turned to him once the door closed behind her, rolling his eyes, mouth formed in a cruel sneer, “Thank god, we’ll never have to deal with an accident like that.”

And Iwaizumi had been unable to reply, mouth suddenly dry, fingers gripping the table tightly. And for once Oikawa did not seem to notice, gaze shifting to Ushijima as he brought over their cups and sat down with them.

Iwaizumi sees he’s clenched his fists while recalling the memory and tries to ease his fingers, letting them spread out on his knees. Tries to take in a breath without letting Daichi realize he’d been holding it in for so long.

He’s never talked to Oikawa about his desire for children. The other’s hatred had made the outcome of the conversation too obvious to even begin it. He’s mentioned it in passing, as a minuscule desire to Ushijima, but the other man had only shrugged, the deeper meaning of the conversation passing over his head.

Iwaizumi doesn’t want to hear about how great a dad he could be when he knows he will never be one.

The car roars to life, and Iwaizumi almost jumps out of his seat, one hand moving instinctively to his hip while he swivels to look at Daichi. The man gives him a quizzical look, “We’re done,” he explains.

“Oh,” Iwaizumi swallows, settling himself back down.

Daichi snorts, “Did you fall asleep with your eyes open for a bit there?”

“Just drive. I want to go home.” Iwaizumi retorts, perhaps a bit childishly as he squirms uncomfortably in his seat. He’s getting too old to sit in one place for so long. He feels his leg cramping up.

Daichi rolls his eyes, but the oncoming silence is amicable. The roads are mostly empty at this hour. The streetlights bright and glaring. Iwaizumi lets out another yawn, and in the millisecond his eyes squeeze shut he almost misses him.

Almost.

He blinks, sitting up and leaning over the stick shift to stare out of Daichi’s window. Said driver sends him a weird look, while also trying to keep his eyes on the road.

Iwaizumi has no time for that, lurching backward to stare out the back window of the car. Through the glass, he can see a young, gangly figure shuffling down the road. He has dark short hair, a bandage under his eye, and in one hand he twirls an orange flower.

“Daichi, pullover!”

“What?”

“I said pullover!”

Daichi spins the wheel, braking harshly as he pulls onto the side of the thankfully deserted road. Iwaizumi hops out of the car, and at that point realizes he doesn’t have a plan at all. The kid has frozen in place right in front of him. He’s clutching the stem of his flower tightly, too tightly, Iwaizumi thinks, Ushijima’s words reverberating in his mind.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi starts, holding a hand out, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

The boy is staring at him, wide-eyed. He takes a step back.

“I’ve seen you around,” Iwaizumi lies because this is the first time he’s seen the kid haunting his partner’s storefront, but it’s easier this way, less explaining, “And I’ve been worried. Are you doing alright?”

The boy looks taken aback like it’s the first time a person has asked him that question. His mouth wobbles, face contorting into a mixture of emotions, too many for a young kid to already be experiencing.

Iwaizumi gives him a soft smile, “I’ll be at the flower shop tomorrow afternoon if you wanna talk. Do you need a ride home?”

The boy shakes his head almost violently, and before Iwaizumi can say anything further he is scampering away. Iwaizumi sighs, looking back over to Daichi sitting in the car, “What was that about? You know him?”

“Some kid Ushiwaka’s worried about,” Iwaizumi explains, “I’m sure he’s fine, just sneaking out. If we had our uniforms on we could have probably scared him straight,” he jokes, but it doesn’t come off genuine, his jaw a bit tense.

He’d never seen a kid so terrified, so confused, at nothing. Face contorting from fear to guilt to confusion and misery. Maybe Ushiwaka was onto something. Maybe the kid needed help.

Maybe.

“Let’s head back,” Iwaizumi continues before Daichi has a chance to question him further, “I’m too tired to think anymore.”

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Iwaizumi steps into the flower shop, ignoring the chime. Two customers look up for a moment before returning to their browsing. Ushijima pokes his head up from below the counter, blinking and giving a small wave.

Iwaizumi comes up to him, leaning against the counter, crooking an elbow against it, “Hey.”

“This is a surprise,” Ushijima states, tilting his head, “Do you only have a half day today?”

Iwaizumi blows some of his own bangs out of his eyes. His hair is getting too long. He shakes his head, “I set up a potential meeting with someone out here. We’ll see if he shows.”

Ushijima furrows his brows at him, but before he can question him further, a customer motions him over and he leaves his post. Iwaizumi loiters, fiddling with the seed packets, reading the directions on the back, shaking his head at all the different things that make up dirt.

He keeps flicking his gaze out the window.

The seed packets bore him and, eventually, he ends up simply watching Ushijima as he speaks to his customers. The woman worries at Ushijima, hands coming up to wave around as she describes her bouquet needs and the pressing matter of it all. Ushijima takes it all in stride, face serious, nodding along and absorbing everything with his patented sternness. Every worry a customer has is met with the same serious validation and earnestly crafted solution.

It’s so endearing it almost kills Iwaizumi, and he has half a mind to not clutch at his heart.

He knows Ushijima is self-conscious of this, of his stoic face and blunt words, but Iwaizumi can’t help but love those aspects of his lover. Because they are a part of him, stone gates protecting his golden heart. It made the cracks in those stone walls, little fissures of a smile, crinkles at the corners of his eyes, all the more savory.

What was not to love?

He watches as Ushijima leads the woman to the other side of the shop, pointing at certain flowers and giving detailed explanations of all her options. Iwaizumi smiles, glancing back toward the window.

He starts.

The boy is there, nervously tugging at his hoodie, even though it’s still much too hot for one. They lock eyes through the window, and Iwaizumi can almost feel the boy’s panic through the glass. He fears he might just bolt, but the boy stays planted.

Iwaizumi steps out of the shop and waves.

The boy stares at him, and then much to Iwaizumi’s surprise, he speaks. Well, it sounds more like a quiet hiss, “I didn’t know you were a policeman...”

Iwaizumi blinks, the boy’s choice of words making him pause, the childish curl around his title, rather than something more mature, officer. He had thought the boy to be late middle school, early high school, but taking in his slightly pudgy face and his vocabulary, he may be a lot younger than he looks.

Iwaizumi holds out his hand, “Officer Iwaizumi Hajime,” he offers, with a smile.

The boy stares at his hand.

Iwaizumi takes the hint, lifting his hand to ruffle the boy’s hair. He tenses beneath his touch, feet skittering back. Iwaizumi frowns, bringing his hand back.

The boy swallows, fingers digging into his own palms, eyebrows furrowing into a scowl, “Am I in trouble?” “I don’t know,” Iwaizumi shrugs, “Did you do something wrong?”

The boy scowls harder, face contorting, hands shoving into the pockets of his pants. Iwaizumi smiles at him, hopes to alleviate the stress on his little shoulders,  “You’re not in trouble.”

The boy kicks the ground.

“What’s your name?”

The boy’s shoulders shrug inward and he hesitates a moment, “...Kageyama.”

“Kageyama,” Iwaizumi repeats, with a nod, “Well, Kageyama, would you like to come inside?”

Kageyama stares at him, then flicks his gaze at the flower shop. Iwaizumi keeps smiling, “I’m sure the owner would love to meet you properly.”

Something flits across Kageyama’s eyes, a mixture of fear, anxiety, and longing. Iwaizumi pulls his arm back to open the door. Kageyama eyes the gesture, and Iwaizumi can see how tense his arms are, as his fingers pull at the fabric inside his pants’ pockets. Iwaizumi makes note of it.

Constantly fiddling. Antsy. Anxious.

It looks like a habit.

More than a habit.

It looks like Oikawa.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Iwaizumi remembers the worst night. Remembers almost sleeping right through it like the oblivious idiot he tends to be. He would have too if Ushijima had not been there.

He remembers Ushijima prodding at his sleeping form making him groan and blink at him. Remembers barely making out the fear in his golden eyes, the way his fingers slightly trembled as they dug into Iwaizumi’s arm pleadingly, forcing him to sit up.

“What?” Iwaizumi asks, voice gruff with sleep.

“It is Oikawa,” Ushijima hisses, “He is still awake.”

Iwaizumi glances at the clock, groaning, “That idiot.”

“No,” Ushijima whispers, fingers tightening their grip, “It is. It is different. I...I don’t know what to do, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi remembers following Ushijima out to the shared room of their tiny apartment and seeing Oikawa sitting at their dingy kitchen table, hunched over, feet drawn up to perch on the edge of the rickety chair, practically folding himself in half.

The light of the laptop in front of him is blinding, and Iwaizumi knows what’s on the screen without having to look at the reflection in his glasses. And he doesn’t know why Ushijima is so worked up about this, because Oikawa overworks himself all the time, infuriatingly enough. But as Iwaizumi’s mind focuses more, dread begins to pool in his stomach, cementing him to the floor.

Oikawa has not noticed them, thick headphones covering his ears, eyes glued to the screen. A hand comes away from his face, to press a key and his face winces.

His hands are bloody.

Iwaizumi tenses.

“Oikawa,” he says.

No response.

“Oikawa,” he says louder.

No response.

“Oikawa!” he shouts.

Oikawa jumps, hands slamming his laptop shut, plunging them all into darkness.

By the time Ushijima manages to flick on the lights, Iwaizumi has found his way to Oikawa’s trembling form. The taller man has ripped his headphones from his head, staring at Iwaizumi incomprehensibly, slowly regaining his senses.

Oikawa has the audacity to laugh it off, “Iwa-chan! You scared me with your brutish voice! Gosh, I thought you were asleep!”

Iwaizumi is not here to play. “Show me your hands,” he orders.

Oikawa swallows, chuckling still, “Iwa-chan, you’re always so grumpy after you wake up. Go back to sleep.”

“Show me your hands.”

“Ushiwaka-chan, Iwa-chan’s being mean to me. Can you go tuck him in for me? He needs his beauty sleep more than the rest of us.” “Oikawa, please show him your hands,” Ushijima says this time.

Oikawa’s hands remain tightly fisted at his sides, and they go a step further, balling up into his pockets. Iwaizumi glares harder, “Oikawa.”

“I’m fine, Iwa-chan.”

“Oikawa.” “I’m fine!”

“Show me your hands.”

“Leave me alone!” Oikawa shouts, standing up with enough force to knock the chair over, “I’m fine. I need to study.”

“Oikawa.”

There are frustrated tears beginning to bead at Oikawa’s eyes, his heart is starting to hammer in his chest, body trembling with fatigue now shaken up by a sudden panic, “Go away! Why won’t you let me study? I need to study!”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says again, hands coming up to touch Oikawa’s arms, right by his biceps.

Oikawa tries to squirm away from him, managing to backpedal into Ushijima’s broad chest. Oikawa gasps, breaths coming too fast, chest beginning to heave.

“Oikawa,” Ushijima says it this time.

Oikawa lets out a frustrated scream, hands coming out to fiddle with his hair, fiddle with his sleeve, with anything despite how much it hurts to do so, “I have to study! The exam is in two days,” but he hiccups after every other word, breaths coming out ragged. He feels dizzy. His arms almost feel numb, vibrating with a weird hum at his sides.

It’s like he’s dying.

If he doesn’t keep studying he’ll die.

If he doesn’t do it perfectly he’ll die.

He is going to die.

He’s dying.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi cuts through, “Breathe.”

Oikawa takes in a gulping breath, just as Ushijima’s arms wrap around him from behind, pressing him closer to his chest. Oikawa can feel his heartbeat against him, beating so much slower than his own. His heart feels like it’s going to burst right from his chest or beat so fast it just gives up and stops.

He’s dying.

“..2..1, now let it out,” he catches the tail end of what Iwaizumi is saying, and lets out the breath he had somehow held until then, “Good,” Iwaizumi says, “Now, again.”

Oikawa breathes in, squeezing his eyes shut, and lets it out when Iwaizumi tells him to. His fingers twitch at his sides, begging to pull at the hem of his shirt, play with the string of his pants, but he focuses on keeping himself completely still. Focuses on Ushijima’s heartbeat, on Iwaizumi’s words.

Oikawa does not know how long it takes to feel like he is not dying, but eventually, his breathing returns to a normal rhythm and he can open his eyes.

“Can I see your hands?” Iwaizumi says, softly, so softly.

Oikawa lets out a pitiful sniffle, that he kicks himself for mentally but slowly lifts up his mutilated hands, nails bitten down enough to draw blood. Iwaizumi’s eyebrows furrow and Oikawa tenses up.

But Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything, simply brings the fingers up to his mouth to kiss them, and that, along with Ushijima’s head suddenly burrowing into the crook of his neck is enough to send Oikawa crying once more.

Ushijima makes them warm tea. Iwaizumi sits them all down together on the couch. Oikawa answers their questions.

Yes, it’s happened before.

No, it’s never been this bad.

I don’t know why tonight.

I didn’t want to make you worry.

Iwaizumi remembers feeling terrible for weeks.

-----------------------------------

Iwaizumi remembers as he holds the door out to the child patiently, and eventually, Kageyama takes his first step in.

“His name is Ushijima-san,” Iwaizumi supplies, crouching slightly as he comes to stand beside Kageyama’s nervous form, “He looks scary but he’s actually very nice.”

“He doesn’t look scary,” Kageyama huffs, scowling, shoulders hunching inward to keep from touching Iwaizumi. It’s as if he’s offended for Ushijima’s sake, and Iwaizumi can’t help the smile overtaking his face.

Ushijima looks over at them, eyes blinking in surprise at the boy beside Iwaizumi. He bows his head down to the customer, speaking softly to her before striding over to them. He stops, awkwardly in front of the boy and the two stare at each other curiously, similar stern expressions overtaking their faces.

Iwaizumi wants to laugh but he doesn’t.

Iwaizumi wants to take a picture to share with Oikawa, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he plays mediator, a familiar role, “Kageyama, this is Ushijima, Ushijima, this is Kageyama.”

Ushijima nods, “It is nice to meet you, Kageyama.”

The boy’s face seems to redden, and he chokes on his own greeting, barking it out with horrible difficulty. But Ushijima just nods, with a certain sense of understanding, and keeps speaking for him, “Do you like flowers?”

Kageyama reddens more, fists straining in his pants pockets.

Ushijima nods again, “Come with me,” he orders, and that seems to be something Kageyama is more comfortable with. A direct, simple, statement easy to follow, and something he can acknowledge without words. He simply trudges after Ushijima, with the singular focus only a child is really capable of.

Iwaizumi smiles.

He heads briefly upstairs to prepare himself a lunch. A simple sandwich with whatever leftover meat he can find in the fridge. He quickly makes another one, a bit neater, wrapping it up carefully. If he had more time he would have made it cuter, maybe shaped it in the form of some kind of animal, but his lunch break wasn’t going to last forever.

When he heads back down he finds Ushijima working with another customer, and Kageyama sitting up on the stool behind the front desk, fingers clenched around the laminated flower language chart. He looks up when Iwaizumi approaches him, and for once his blue eyes are merely curious and not hounded with fear.

Iwaizumi smiles at him, “Not sure if you’re hungry, but I’m starving. I made sandwiches, you want one?”

The boy’s eyes widen, and he stares at the offered treat, taking it wordlessly. He unwraps and bites into it, messily, scarfing it down quick. Iwaizumi blinks at him, but the boy doesn’t look underfed from what he can see. He might just be a fast eater.

Kageyama wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and then quickly ducks his head down, “Thank you, Iwaizumi-san.”

Iwaizumi ruffles his hair, “You’re welcome, Kageyama.”

Kageyama frowns, but not nearly as severely as before and then looks back at the flower sheet. Iwaizumi glances at it too, “Did Ushijima show you that?”

Kageyama nods, “Did you know you can talk to people with just flowers?” the boy continues, harsh voice lilting a bit higher in newfound excitement, “You cant mess up your words if its just flowers.”

Iwaizumi softens a little, “And what do you want to say?”

Kageyama stills then, mouth stretching into a severe scowl not fit for someone so young. Iwaizumi wants to press, see if he can get some more information out, but then the chime of the door rings out.

“Iwa-chan! What are you doing here?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, child forgotten as he levels his boyfriend a glare, “I live here, Trashykawa, what kind of question is that?”

Oikawa sticks out his tongue, striding over, “We could have walked over together, you grump!” he whines, arms circling his neck to hang off of him. Iwaizumi has to readjust his footing so as not to fall, but he does so without a word.

“I’m actually about to leave,” he grunts, “Are you only getting off for lunch now?”

“There’s a lot to catch up on Iwa-chan. If you were so worried you should have come to my office and brought me lunch like a good house husband. Like you used to when you loved me.”

“You’re such an ass,” Iwaizumi huffs, pulling himself free from the other’s grip, “Go eat before you get a headache.”

“Yes, yes,” Oikawa sighs, but his brown eyes catch upon the current attendant behind the counter, “Oh, but what have we here?”

Iwaizumi suddenly remembers Kageyama and quickly looks over at him. The boy’s eyes are wide, drinking in Oikawa as best he can, mouth parted slightly in either awe or terror. Iwaizumi could not tell.

Oikawa’s smirk stretches, leaning down toward the boy to fill up all his vision, “My, my, Ushiwaka-chan’s new assistant is so cute!” he compliments, a hand reaching out to pinch Kageyama’s cheek. Kageyama startles, mouth sputtering, unable to perform words but arms coming out to shield himself.

Oikawa laughs, straightening himself up, an wiping his hand on his pants, “I’ll see you later, Iwa-chan,” he calls as he heads to the back, swinging toward Ushijima as he goes to let his fingers dance along his shoulder blades teasingly. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, turning back to Kageyama, who’s hand is touching his cheek almost reverentially.

“Kageyama?”

Kageyama jumps a little in his chair, face neutralizing as he lets his hand bunch back into his pant’s pocket.

“I’m heading back to the station. Do you need a ride home?”

Kageyama looks down at the counter, “Can I stay here?”

“As long as Ushijima lets you. But make sure your parents know, alright?” Iwaizumi says, carefully. Something passes over Kageyama’s face, like the brightness in his blue eyes, the wonder inhabited within it when he had studied his flower chart, or stared at Oikawa’s face was extinguished. But he doesn’t scowl, or frown, he just stares at him blankly and gives a little nod.

Iwaizumi takes this all in, files it away, as he heads back to work. He makes a note to start searching their database for the Kageyama family.

Something wasn’t right here.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Later that evening, when Oikawa excuses himself from the table suddenly with a lit up phone in his hand, Iwaizumi is able to tell Ushijima.

“He’s an orphan,” Iwaizumi says, quietly.

Ushijima, whose eyes had been following Oikawa as he left the table to enter his bedroom snapped back to Iwaizumi, “Kageyama?”

Iwaizumi nods, “I looked the name up. Mother died a year ago, he’s been at the orphanage ever since. He’s eleven.”

Ushijima frowns.

“What happened after I left?” Iwaizumi asks.

“I let him stay,” Ushijima replies, carefully taking another bite of his meal, “We did not talk much. He asked me if he could come back tomorrow. I asked him if he had school tomorrow. He said no, so I told him it was alright.”

Iwaizumi snorts, “He most definitely has school tomorrow. I’ll look into it more.”

“Is this alright? To be taking such an active interest?” Ushijima asks, lowly.

“You’re the one that started this,” Iwaizumi reminds, taking a bite of his rice with a smile, “Something’s not adding up here and I want to get to the bottom of it. It’s my job.”

Ushijima sighs, “It seems as though you make everything your job, Hajime. Do not overextend yourself.”

Iwaizumi snorts, “I’m fine.”

“Mom! Will you just listen to me?! Please?” Oikawa’s shout cracks through the closed bedroom door, ending their shortlived conversation.

The pair at the dining table share a look before keeping their gaze on the door.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

“I’m only raising my voice because you’ve been screaming at me this whole time! Put Fumiko on the phone. No, mom, I want to hear from Fumiko. Put her on. Mom, mom, stop, just, put Fu--Nee-chan! Finally, what the hell is going on!?”

Iwaizumi feels his heart clenching, fingers digging into the chopsticks in his hand. Oikawa’s voice is strained as he yells, fear-laced between the spaces of his words, crackling every now. He wants to go in there and put the phone away so Oikawa can calm down and not deal with whatever catastrophe is going on. Wrap his arms around him and remind him how to breathe.

Oikawa’s mother has always been a quiet, calming force. Iwaizumi loves her, almost as much as he loves his own mother. Loves the way she used to tuck him in and offer him his own goodnight kiss when he slept over. Loves that she would pack extra desserts in Oikawa’s lunch just for him. There are so many wonderful memories from the past almost three decades of his life that come up when he thinks of her. None of them included her yelling.

Because Oikawa’s mother never yelled. Never once raised her voice, as far as Iwaizumi knew. And he was around more often than not. Why would she be yelling now? So much so that Oikawa had to scream back, crying to speak to his sister instead?

Fears populate Iwaizumi’s mind.

Oikawa’s mother is hurt. Oikawa’s mother is dying. Oikawa’s sister is the only person with her and they need help. They’re hysterical. They’re desperate. They’re confused. They need help, and Oikawa is the first person they turn to, and he feels powerless being so far away. It must be something awful, for Oikawa’s mother to be shouting like this.

It must be.

“I can’t,” Oikawa says, through the door, and he’s no longer yelling, but Ushijima and Iwaizumi had wordlessly gotten up to stand near the door, “You know I cant, Nee-chan. It’s too soon.”

Iwaizumi frowns.

Oikawa lets out a long, aggravated sigh, “I’ll call him, ok? But I cant go back already.”

There’s such little time between the end of that sentence to Oikawa starting the next that Iwaizumi figures he must be interrupting his sister, “I’m not leaving you! Just, I have to go. I’m not leaving. I’ll call him. I’ll text you soon. I love you.”

Ushijima and Iwaizumi move quickly back to the table, resuming their meal before Oikawa steps out of the bedroom. He looks tired, fingers pressing into the middle of his forehead. He pockets his phone and slips back into his chair.

“Everything alright?” Iwaizumi asks, without looking away from his food.

“You’re such a bad liar, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa comments, “You really think I couldn’t hear you both lumbering outside my door?”

“What happened?” Ushijima asks instead.

Oikawa shrugs, “Nothing, really.”

“Is your Mom ok?” Iwaizumi asks.

Oikawa grits his teeth, “Mom’s peachy.”

“She was yelling.”

“She was overreacting is what she was doing,” Oikawa glowers.

“Be nice to your mother,” Iwaizumi says, mostly out of habit.

Oikawa snarls, “Fuck off, Hajime.”

There is a beat of silence. An eternity of silence.  Iwaizumi stares at Oikawa, mouth parted, eyebrows furrowed in shock. Oikawa doesn’t look at him. Wont look at him. More silence. And then Oikawa’s chair is screeching back as he gets up.

“I have to make another phone call,” he mutters, and he walks away, this time to their balcony, sliding the door open and slamming it shut.

Ushijima stands up as well, before Iwaizumi can, “Allow me to speak with him.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t want to speak with him. He’s pissed. He’s furious. He wants to punch him in the fucking face for talking to him like that, in that tone, with that name. He won’t of course. Would never. But he still can’t wrap his head around Oikawa’s sudden fury, the hate that seeped into his language. He had fought with OIkawa all his life but he had never heard such malice directed at him.

Iwaizumi is hurt.

He watches from his spot at the table as Ushijima slips into the balcony. Watches as Oikawa yells at him. Watches as Ushijima says something that makes Oikawa deflate, makes him shrink in on himself and hold his face in his hands.

Ushijima has never been good with his words and yet.

What did he say?

Ushijima is still speaking and Oikawa is shaking his head. And then Ushijima has his hands on Oikawa’s shoulders, squeezing. But Oikawa still refuses to look up. And then Ushijima says something, hand moving to take Oikawa’s face, bringing it up.

And Oikawa blinks, and his gaze locks on Iwaizumi’s through the glass. And Iwaizumi can see his own hurt reflected back in those beautiful brown eyes. There’s something broken in Oikawa’s face, a defeat that hangs from his fringe that Iwaizumi’s never seen before either. He forgets himself, as he tends to when it comes to Oikawa.

Because it’s Oikawa.

Because he loves Oikawa.

He doesn’t remember getting out of his chair, doesn’t remember taking quick strides, but he’s at the glass door grappling with it to open it. And then he’s outside and Oikawa is already in his arms, clinging to him tightly, fingers digging into his back.

Iwaizumi buries his face in the crook of his neck.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa hisses, face wet, “I didn’t, I didn’t mean to, I just--“

“It’s alright,” Iwaizumi murmurs, “It’s alright.”

“It’s not,” Oikawa says, “It’s not, and you know it.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to say, so he occupies his mouth with kissing him and fortunately Oikawa complies greedily. Breath hitching every so often, but never enough to disrupt them.

“It’s going to be ok,” Iwaizumi reminds, when they pull away, “Everything’s going to be ok.”

Oikawa gives a nod, but Iwaizumi can tell it's not sincere. He doesn’t believe him. Iwaizumi wants to make him believe him. He’s just not sure how.

Ushijima places a hand on each of their shoulders, “We should go inside. I do not want the plants to feed off our negative emotions.”

Oikawa bursts into laughter, clinging to Iwaizumi with renewed purpose, other arm going to clutch his stomach. Iwaizumi can’t help join him in his giggles, at the straight-faced absurdity that is their beloved Ushiwaka. It’s exactly what they needed.

Ushijima is used to this, letting out a monotonous sigh and herding them back into their apartment with little else to say. They find themselves sandwiched together on the couch, Oikawa more so lounging on top of them rather than the couch itself.

Iwaizumi runs his hands along Oikawa’s legs, pushing the fabric of his pants up so he can trace designs across the flawless skin, writing a wordless apology.

“I do have to call him,” Oikawa sighs, to Ushijima, legs fidgeting a little under Iwaizumi’s ministration.

“Tomorrow,” Ushijima decides, “It is better to cool off, first.”

Oikawa nods after a moment, face leaning into Ushijima’s chest. Iwaizumi frowns at the swirls he’s making around Oikawa’s left knee, “Call who?” he asks quietly, a hint of trepidation.

Oikawa seems to hesitate, and Iwaizumi catches it only because it never happens. There’s never really been any hesitations between them, but Oikawa pushes through, “My dad.”

Iwaizumi decides not to press. Oikawa’s family life has become a recent landmine, to pick through carefully. He’d already fucked it up in the last half hour and he was energy-less to try again now. It had always been so easy, Oikawa’s life, his family, his friends. Iwaizumi knew all these topics, was part of all these circle, so intimately he had never needed to think twice about saying anything surrounding them.

This was clearly no longer the case.

Ushijima presses a kiss to Oikawa’s temple, murmuring something softly, that Oikawa gives a quiet hum to. Iwaizumi can’t hear any of it and he tries not to let it bother him.

It bothers him.

-------------------------------

Iwaizumi finds the flower shop closed when he comes by during his lunch break. He frowns, pulling out his keys and unlocking the door, closing it correctly behind him. He calls into the store curiously and hears Ushijima’s voice echo out from the back. He opens the door to the back, shelves crowded with supplies and freshly planted pots. He coughs, the scent of dirt and fertilizer hitting him off guard.

He waves his hand, and steps forward, blinking at the sight before him.

Kageyama stands by the table in the center of the room, beside Ushijima, wearing an apron much too big for himself. Despite best efforts, he is covered in dirt, hands coated with soil sleeves, blue eyes sharp and critical. He hasn't even looked up, too focused on the task at hand. Transferring a tiny plant to a new, bigger pot.

“Is the hole big enough?” Ushijima asks.

Kageyama nods.

“Then you can place it inside.”

Kageyama bites his lip, lifting the tiny plant with its clump of dirt and gangly roots and carefully settling it into his new home. He pats the dirt around it, letting Ushijima coach him through the process with a few words and a guiding hand.

Something about the scene touches Iwaizumi’s heart, and he finds himself sneaking his phone out to take a picture. He feels guilty about it once it’s snapped, slipping the phone back into his pocket. Luckily, neither of the participants seemed to have noticed.

Finally, Iwaizumi takes a step forward, “Hello Kageyama.”

Kageyama blinks up at him, “Hello Iwaizumi-san,” he murmurs back.

Ushijima checks over the plant, letting a small smile grace his features, “You did well, Kageyama.”

Kageyama shines, blue eyes sparkling, a sudden hop in his step as Iwaizumi approaches. He points at the plant, ”It’s a Tsubaki but it’s still small. It means perfection and stuff.”

“Does it?” Iwaizumi smiles.

Kageyama nods vigorously. Ushijima grabs a marker, “Write your name on the pot, so you know which one is yours.”

Kageyama takes the marker, carefully penning down the characters of his name. He is meticulous and yet the characters are written in worse handwriting than Iwaizumi’s. Iwaizumi waits patiently for him to finish, “You hungry?”

Kageyama nods. Iwaizumi motions to the large sink in the room and helps Kageyama take off his dirty apron. He turns on the water, helping the boy clean off his arms and face, wiping away at him with a damp towel. Kageyama is mostly pliant in his arms, tensing every so often but quickly relaxing when he realizes he’s freezing up.

Once he’s been cleaned off they wave goodbye to Ushijima and step out of the shop. Iwaizumi buys Kageyama an onigiri from the local conbini, watching the boy devour it greedily. When he finishes he speaks up again, “Shouldn’t you be in school, Kageyama?”

Kageyama scowls at the ground and shakes his head.

Iwaizumi sighs, crouching down to face him better, “School’s in session Kageyama, you should be there. Learning.”

Kageyama shakes his head again, brows severe, “Got suspended.”

Iwaizumi blinks at the newfound information, “What for?”

Kageyama shrugs, fingers twitching at his sides, beginning to fidget with the end of his shirt, “Fighting.”

Iwaizumi frowns himself, wondering how this sweet little boy could find himself in any sort of fight. He just seemed quiet. But his face could be quite scary, he supposes, to the untrained eye.

“When do you go back?” Iwaizumi asks, instead.

Kageyama shrugs again.

Iwaizumi crosses his arms, letting them rest across his crouched knees, “Kageyama, can you take me where you live?”

Kageyama looks at him, face warped in confusion, “Why?”

“I want to see it and meet the people you live with,” Iwaizumi responds carefully.

Kageyama stares at him, eyes clouding over with distrust, “Am I in trouble?”

“No, Kageyama, you’re not in trouble. You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.”

Kageyama shrugs, but his hands dig deep holes in his pockets. He’s uncomfortable, but he starts walking down the street, and Iwaizumi is compelled to follow him.

It’s a far walk. Iwaizumi should have driven, all things considered, but it’s too late to go back and do so. The walk is silent, Kageyama staring at the ground as he walks, Iwaizumi keeping pace with him and taking in his surroundings.

The neighborhood begins to crumble around him, though he expected as much. He’s a police officer, he gets called to this area at least once a week over some new crime. Usually petty, sometimes not. He keeps close to Kageyama, but it’s broad daylight out. They should be fine.

The orphanage is a bit beat up, the sign for it faded and mostly unreadable. Kageyama knocks on the door and a tired old woman opens it. She stares at Iwaizumi with surprise, then glares back down at Kageyama, “What did you do this time?”

Kageyama doesn’t say anything, simply pushes his way through and disappearing inside. The woman lets out a tired sigh, smiling sadly at Iwaizumi, “Officer, I’m so sorry. What did he do?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head, “I was just walking him home, is all,” he offers his hand, “I’m Iwaizumi Hajime. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”

-----------------------------------

Iwaizumi waits a few days, mulling over his words, his thoughts. There’s a lot to think about. A lot to examine and evaluate and wonder. And none of it is easy. But he knows what the right thing to do is, what he would do.

But it’s not his decision to make.

Well, not just his decision to make. It’s their decision to make.

But he’s not sure how to bring it up, how to talk about it.

So he decides to start small.

Oikawa is occupied on the phone, a common occurrence nowadays, locked away in his bedroom. Ushijima is filling his spray bottle at the sink. Iwaizumi walks over to him, taking in a breath.

“Ushiwaka.”

Ushijima flicks his golden gaze at him in acknowledgment but returns it to the task at hand. He watches the water fill his plastic bottle to the appropriate line before shutting the flow off. He screws the top on.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” Iwaizumi begins. Ushijima nods at the work gloves hanging by him, and Iwaizumi hands them over without missing a beat, “Kageyama is a good kid.”

Ushijima nods, again, “He is,” he agrees, walking away toward the balcony. Iwaizumi follows him, not bothering to slide the door shut. He leans against the railing, watching Ushijima check each of his personal plants meticulously. Feeling their leaves, taking in their scent, offering them a drink here and there.

“He’s having a hard time at his orphanage. He doesn’t get along with the other kids and gets into a lot of fights. He keeps getting suspended from school and, well, he’s just, not doing well.”

Ushijima frowns.

“So, I was thinking, well, you know, we have a big apartment.”

Ushijima nods.

“We have three bedrooms, but honestly we only ever use one.”

Ushijima straightens up, narrowing his eyes at him, “Iwaizumi, are you implying we should adopt Kageyama?”

“No! Not, adopt,” Iwaizumi corrects, quickly, his green eyes unable to look into the piercing golden gaze above him, “That’s, that’s permanent. I meant something more temporary. Like, like fostering him.”

Ushijima is still frowning, his finger a bit more jerky on the spray bottles trigger. He says nothing, going through his plants before stepping back into the living room. Iwaizumi lets out a sigh, “Ushijima, you could at least say something.”

Ushijima’s look is severe, “Iwaizumi, I do not know what you wish for me to say. You have put me in a difficult situation.”

Iwaizumi swallows, “I just--“

“Why are you only consulting me? Why is Oikawa not a part of this conversation?” Ushijima continues, bluntly as ever, tearing through Iwaizumi’s walls as if they were made of butter, “This is not right.”

“Of course I was going to ask him too! I just, well, we already know what his answers going to be.” Iwaizumi snaps.

“Then what is the point of consulting with me?” Ushijima shakes his head, adding, “You do not know his answer unless you ask.”

“Ask me what?” Oikawa asks, shoving his phone into his pocket. Frustration lines his forehead before he smooths it out with a fake smile. Another difficult phone conversation just finished and tucked away deep inside.

This is terrible timing, Iwaizumi thinks.

“Iwaizumi wants to become foster parents for Kageyama,” Ushijima bulldozes right through, regardless.

Iwaizumi wants to scream.

Oikawa looks like he wants to do the very same thing. Eyes widening, mouth quivering with indecision--to shout or to grimace or to grit, who knows--and eyebrows furrowing down, “What?” and then, after a second,  “Who?”

Iwaizumi swallows, floundering to set the situation right before it dissolves into the irreparable fight it is most destined to be, “There’s this kid, he’s, he’s an orphan and he needs help. We can help him.”

“Kageyama has been helping me in the shop the past few weeks,” Ushijima supplies context.

Oikawa stares at them, “And when was I going to be informed about all this? About any of this?”

Iwaizumi starts, “Oikawa, look, it’s--“

“Don’t Oikawa look me right now! Have you seriously been considering adopting some street urchin for weeks and haven’t thought to tell me about?” Oikawa cries out incredulously.

“Oikawa, it’s not--“

“Absolute not,” Oikawa snaps, stomping a foot down for good measure, “Absolutely not!”

“Oikawa, at least let me explain. It’s more complicated than you think, Kageyama needs--“

“I don’t care what he needs,” Oikawa seethes, hand coming up to ruffle his own hair, “I can’t believe this!”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi growls, getting more annoyed by the second, with each and every interruption, “Let’s just talk about this, please?”

Oikawa is shaking his hand, eyes blown out in shocked anger, “The answer is no, Hajime! No! Never!”

“Tooru, you’re being hysterical!” Iwaizumi shouts back.

Oikawa’s face scrunches up almost inhumanely, and he all but shrieks, point an accusing finger, “No, Hajime! You just don’t get it! Kids ruin everything!”

Something flits across Ushijima’s face, a sudden understanding, and his hand is reaching out.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Iwaizumi seethes, unconvinced.

But it’s too late. Oikawa lets out a frustrated half growl, the gift of gab lost to him when he is this furious, this hurt. He stomps back into his room and slams the door shut.

Iwaizumi rubs his face in his own frustration. Talking to Oikawa lately was like walking on eggshells he didn’t even know were there. Like Oikawa had scribbled over the map of his personality that Iwaizumi had spent years memorizing, with bright red marker rendering it now utterly useless.

Ushijima’s sigh makes him lift his head. Golden eyes remain grounded on the close doorframe, “I wish to aid Kageyama too,” he says, quietly, “but Oikawa is right,” he continues voice a bit distant as he ventures towards the door and knocks on it softly. After a moment, Iwaizumi watches Oikawa let him in.

Iwaizumi is alone.