Chapter Text
1.
He hears her before he sees her.
Bells, gleaming against wind. It's a voice that carries and collects the hopeless: escaping sighs, rosy ears and cheeks that heat at unworthiness, at a chance, at a moment to witness a note of beauty. She is a warbling charity.
Akino Mei sounds like she looks, like flowing skirts and a height below broad shoulders. A nose that looks freshly kissed every morning to match cheeks that are just rightly pink, as if it's law; as if there's no other science to it but to be swelled and dimpled for anyone and everyone to glance and subsequently trip at.
Akino Mei has ten slender fingers with two slender palms attached to twin slender arms and chest and waist and legs and feet. Slender feet and slender toes in kitten heels and not at all bruised nor calloused nor ready to crack and stick in other people's noses like Sugawara secretly likes to do when he catches a certain someone sleeping on the floor when there's a perfectly not-so perfect bed just steps away so why does he always insist on napping on—
Hair, strands of bronze, if possible—he's positive it's an insult to just refer to it as 'hair'—flit in motion above her. It's frizz on any other head; missed tufts and rebels that defy gravity but on her they're more than necessary. They're character and substance to beginning, middle and more before conclusion. They are what remind the rest that, no, she did not fall from the heavens; no, no, she is not carved from stone but was instead baked fresh from a four person family that lives in Aoyama-itchome who giggle and chat over dinner together every night without fail at an embarrassingly large table in an embarrassingly large home and that's close enough to being a-step-from-godly.
Akino Mei, delicate but defined. And not in the way that is "acceptable for a lady of her stature." No, no, fuck that, Sugawara thinks, and snorts but covers his nose because Akino Mei sure doesn't deserve that from (the likes of) him. Akino Mei, 161.1 centimeters thanks to a kitten heel is The Beauty of Campus. That's fine, she's accepted that surely but that is the exception, not the rule. It's a skill on her resume but won't be found under her name, not before her soon to be earned degree in engineering nor sharing a line with her breakneck tolerance for alcohol. There are things she is, with the swim club, with student council, with her guaranteed job offer. And then, after all of that and that not mentioned or kept flirtingly close to the chest, as it so happens, she has beauty.
Despite what it may seem, from painstakingly plucked introduction throwing wrench through media res, Sugawara's never thought of any of this before. He's, in fact, talked to The Beauty of Campus-chan plenty of times without noting her laugh or nose or teeth. He’s never thought of how there's no mole on her face nor how her hair is neatly trimmed and not cut sometimes with a sudden itch for scissors from under the sink. Not haphazardly layered, jutting strands, stormy on a good day but status quo mucks of grey in the end.
However, this time, as it so happens, when Sugawara finally sees her, Akino Mei is touching Iwaizumi Hajime's arm. She laughs.
Iwaizumi stills, eyes flicking just briefly to where tiny hand meets thick arm. Despite being a bench and a bush away, Sugawara can see the pink on his ears.
His arm shoots up, scraping at the bushes. He waves. "Akino-chan!"
Two bodies, complementing, natural, jump at his call. They're a bystander's wet dream of a unit. One plus two. Co-dependable, mother's darling and the son a father always wanted.
Two heads turn at his steps. "Suga-kun!" Bells chime back.
"Stop teasing Iwaizumi. You know he doesn't know how to socialize with humans."
Iwaizumi, predictably, bristles with no heat. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Try some new material sometime."
Akino laughs. "Trust me, you wouldn't say that if you were in our seminar."
"Hah! Oh yeah?" There's a movement to his right, frantic almost, and Sugawara peeks at Iwaizumi to catch the remnants of panic before it disappears altogether. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well, let's just say he's plenty popular."
"Hmmm. Maybe they're blind?"
"All of them, Suga-kun?" Akino huffs a laugh, and Sugawara feels an itch behind his ribs. She turns slightly to catch Iwaizumi's gaze. "It's quite funny to watch."
"Yeah—no, it's," Iwaizumi coughs. "It's nothing, really."
Iwaizumi leans, eyes locked to Akino. Glances lock, and there’s a laugh, simultaneous. Mutual and meant for two, not three. Inside jokes and chuckles too embedded to be shared aloud, lest they expire upon arrival. See your way out, Sugawara.
"That assignment is a pain," Iwaizumi, shifting gears and changing angle. Dangerous territory clears to murky meadows. "I don't know if I'll have it done in time."
Akino huffs, hand on cocked hip. "You always doubt yourself, Iwaizumi-kun."
"Yeah, well, not all of us can get things on the first try."
"What—Hey!" Her ears glow pink. "I don't know what kind of image you have of me in your head, but I cannot get everything on the first try."
"...Right. Second try. Same thing."
Akino laughs and pushes his shoulder. Sugawara, stage left, looks on. Maybe, he thinks, if he slips back quietly on his feet and to his next class they won't question how he left with no goodbye. Maybe, he thinks, they've already forgotten he's there. The stone in his stomach grows, his throat tightens. Lovely. Cinematic. Predictably responsive.
Bells wrap in steady wind. Iwaizumi pauses. "Oh," he says, before reaching for her.
"Eh—"
Sugawara holds his breath as Akino stills. Fingers part curls, disappearing, to pull back as quickly as they'd wandered.
And with that predictability, as knowing as the sun will rise every morning, Akino Mei turns red from neck to ears.
Iwaizumi, none the wiser like the oblivious shit he is, flicks his fingers. "There was something in your hair."
"O-oh," says Akino.
"Oh," says Sugawara.
He laughs. Bells chitter. Stones sink, down to pits under terrifying dark.
It's so predictable it's cinematic. It makes you want to ruin it. Courage, however, is for idiots willing to burn.
So instead, Sugawara laughs. Fires nowhere to be seen.
2.
Later, when Iwaizumi pulls the hair from his face and kisses the back of his neck, he suddenly remembers how his fingers tangled in her curls.
He wonders what it felt like. Soft and weightless, almost like parting shreds of silk? Or full, curated, waves that pinkened his skin and bones and blood from hot nerves to petals and told more in a mere moment than any whispered words could—
His legs, locked back at the knees and brushing Iwaizumi's thighs to hover naked over his lap, slip against sweaty skin. He shakes at the strain, the position awkward and new but wanted. "Oof."
Iwaizumi pants into his ear, somehow hardening even more beneath him. Fingers pause in their stretch between his cheeks. "You okay?"
"Yeah," he breathes. The room seems dark despite the lamp by his bed. He shifts, sliding further on Iwaizumi's fingers and up his hips, and hums in approval.
Licking at his neck, Iwaizumi fits another finger between puckered skin. They hook and pull, searching, yet teasing. Digits much too familiar to be considered lucky in their movements, reaching for a coordinate of flesh that tightens Sugawara's knees and sends a cacophony of noises up his throat. Hook and pull, stretch. Thrust, stretch, pull. Circle. Drag.
Sugawara turns his head and mewls straight into waiting mouth. "Put it in."
"Wait." Iwaizumi nips at the web of his lips. "Not ready yet."
"No." He shows what control he has, or maybe wants to have, reaching down and beneath. He brushes past the hand curled in him, grasping Iwaizumi's length. Hips jolt at his own. "Come on. It's fine."
Iwaizumi sighs softly. The back of sweaty grey mop plops on his brow, snug with body melting to his. Fingers thick and wet slip down and out, knocking away Sugawara's fingers to rub at his own cock, lubing condom with what's left. Shaking thighs and all, Sugawara lifts his hips and most definitely doesn't think of how heavy he must be leaning back on Iwaizumi like this while he lines himself up and reaches back to spread a cheek. He doesn't think about what a poor sight this is, gangly legs and arms knocking around meaty glutes and chest and doesn't think a bit of what it'd look like instead with smaller hips and pin thin calves and dainty, slender toes that squeeze white when Iwaizumi finally slides in deep.
He breathes, chest shuddering, Iwaizumi adjusting him in his grip. He rocks his hips, hoping to dispel unwelcome thoughts with pleasure but it's a blood stain on white sheets.
Iwaizumi nibbles at his ear and pulls Sugawara's thigh back even further to palm between his spread legs before he stills completely.
"You're soft," he says and Sugawara almost falls out of his lap because he hadn't noticed himself. "Does it hurt? Let me—"
"No," he's as confused as he is but quicker to recover, angling his hips to thrust back down as he feels him begin to pull out. "Don't stop."
"Wait, just—wait. Are you—"
"Hajime." Sugawara turns, head pushing back on Iwaizumi's cheek to plant a kiss on his lips. "Shut up and fuck me, okay?"
Sugawara will always, secretly, pat himself on the back for being able to make Iwaizumi crumble in his hands. Petal in palm. Soft, pliant.
(Wrinkled and dead.)
"Here," he whispers, hands covering Iwaizumi's to pull away from his groin and crawl instead up his chest. One lingers, nails brushing at his hip bone, while the other fingers a nipple. Another kiss, this one convincing. "Touch me."
Iwaizumi, falling for lips again, thrusts back.
He's pumping with care at first, easing him, waiting it out. Stroking at undeniable softness above sure hardness that fucks Sugawara with too much control. And Sugawara, himself hiding erratic heartbeat and a runaway train of thoughts, pleads desperate with his body to be present.
But it's no use. He imagines nipple, as amaranth as his embarrassingly are but with pride and pulse, sitting on plump breast and spilling out of greedy hand. Wonders for too long to be called a moment what Iwaizumi would do if he unbuttoned his shirt one day to find him wearing a bra: something laughable at first, millimeter lace, unpadded but still as loud as a screaming train. Sugawara wonders if he would balk or pale. Or, he wonders, would he pause, leaning close, teeth bared at awkward silk–
It's a hard thrust up and he moans but not much of it is pleasure slipping from his mouth. He can tell from the shifting grip that now cages him in as well as from the curl of shoulders surrounding his back that Iwaizumi's growing irritated. He's mad at himself, most likely, at not being able to bring heat to Sugawara's body, left to finish all on his own. Sugawara feels something thick clog his throat.
With little left to gain, he finishes as quick as he started, soft groans accompanying stuttered strokes, buried hilt deep to keep in the heat. It's a surprise for Sugawara, and a first for both of them, coming just minutes from starting in contrast to many nights and a handful weekend days where they'd hold out for as long as they could, thrusting back at each other, and when that failed, hungering easily for one more time, another, last one, again.
Instead, Sugawara rubs at twitching thighs beneath his own, soothing, hoping to bore calm through touch alone. It's an awkward end to a heated start, Sugawara pulling Iwaizumi to bed from the moment they stepped in the door. And now, confused, concerned, they slip quiet to their sides.
Iwaizumi nudges forward, kissing him surprised. He's smothering but soft in his pursuit. Lips push at lips to give way and breathe into one another. Iwaizumi, still leaking despite restraint, questions with teeth that pull at Sugawara's bottom lip. He fights back the sigh that swells his chest.
But Sugawara, always quick to hide and deflect, giggles soft and breaks away. "What're you doing? I need to breathe at some point."
Iwaizumi ducks to brush teeth at his throat, eliciting an earned shudder. "I'm trying to distract you."
"From…?"
"From whatever…." He kisses him full on the lips, living in the pause. "...whatever you can't stop thinking about."
Sugawara goes stiff in his arms. It's a moment too late to recover for Iwaizumi not too catch, lines forming between his eyebrows but Sugawara figures the best he can do is kiss them away. And so he does, down his temple to nose to cheek, biting at pudge. Iwaizumi snorts at the effort but forgives nonetheless, that smiling frown teasing his lips. With that, questions left unanswered slip back under file, lock, and key.
He shoves his knee between Iwaizumi's legs but sees him pull back before he can wrap an arm around his waist.
"Wait," Iwaizumi grunts in his twist against Sugawara but the smaller won't budge. "The condom's going to tear. I need to throw it away."
But Sugawara's stubborn, nuzzling his nose against his cheek. "Well, you could feed it to me. That would solve the problem."
Olive eyes, half lidded, shoot open as he jerks back but red nonetheless. "...Uh—"
"I'm kidding! I'm kidding." He cackles soft, in the way that Sugawara can only be close to a whisper and still chuckle like a crow. His voice sings against Iwaizumi's lips. "Unless...you want to?"
"Sugawara. Stop being weird."
"I don't know how to tell you this, but. I am weird."
Iwaizumi clicks his tongue. His fingers ghost over his hip. "Stop being weirder than usual."
He hums to hide his discomfort, ache in his chest sudden. He knows he shouldn't feel bothered at Iwaizumi's blunt status quo but can't help but deny when he hits straight home this time.
"Not that weird," it's a reassurance meant for himself but chanced aloud between one another. Iwaizumi doesn't make to move but challenges nonetheless, forehead knocking on his own.
It's a heavy heat above them, blanket still knocked off the bed and two bodies very much left bare and cooling in the dark. Fingers brush from hip to elbow, down arm to grasp at his damp palm.
"What's this?' Iwaizumi drops to a whisper, as if knocking on glass.
Sugawara pulls their hands up, gazing at where his fingers trace. There's light scratch running from back to palm.
"I....don't know." He searches back, trying to place memory for answer.
"No?" They both stare at the red. Iwaizumi's thumb rubs over in a trance.
"It—" and he trips, back to jutting hand from bushes to cut short pink ears and chiming laughs—"...it's nothing."
Iwaizumi thumbs it for a little longer, before bringing palm to his lips. He mouths along mar, brushing softly around the curve. Sugawara feels his eyes slipping shut, not prepared for such unusual tenderness.
What's left of what he can see is occupied by dark eyes still searching. "You okay?" Iwaizumi asks for the second time, and second time already knowing the answer.
Sugawara swallows past dry throat. "Yeah."
He assures himself that it's not really a lie; when you're in denial it never really counts since you're protecting yourself from your own demons. But despite his three layers of skin and perfectly packed façade he knows Iwaizumi can see almost right through him. Almost. He'll hold onto that for as long as he can.
He silently thanks Iwaizumi with a press of his nose to cheek. Eyelashes tickle at his own.
"Sometimes," Iwaizumi's quiet is something new to him. "it feels like you're a mystery to me."
Sugawara blinks slowly to feel the flutter against his lids. "Ditto," he whispers back.