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codename-bewareofthefangirl · 7 years ago

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Hell Mission II

Hi dears! Uhm, here we go! *nervous* This second chapter is mostly dialogues and no action because I needed a bonding/let’s-know-each-other moment and yes, I’m a sucker for this kind of slice of life/fluffy chapter where nothing happens. I hope you like it the same? I’m planning more exciting things for the next ones (let’s pray I’ll be able to write them properly!) Let me know everything, ideas, comments, if you liked it…every feedback is appreciated!

Have a wonderful day!

Chapter: 1, 2

Iwaoi FF, SecretAgent!Iwaizumi x ProPlayer!Oikawa

Hell Mission II: Interrogations

When Oikawa had said “day and night”, Iwaizumi was ashamed to admit he had immediately imagined some…steamy activities.

Well, he had been wrong. It seemed he was always wrong about that damn player.

In Oikawa’s luxurious suite, the brunet was sprawled on the white couch with a big bucket of popcorn he had just ordered and wrapped in a blanket to “create atmosphere”; on the maxi-screen of the tv flashed the title “X-files” and a haunting music played in the background, as the boy waited for him with shiny, excited eyes.

Iwaizumi grunted, rubbing his eyes, because he’d have liked to slap himself for being that weak but…Oikawa was batting his long eyelashes and had that puppy-look that made it impossible to refuse.

Just as he had done a few hours before.

“…Never.”

It took Iwaizumi more than ten seconds to metabolize what Oikawa had just offered.

His skin grew red from the base of the neck to the tip of the ears, embarrassment threatening to choke him.

“What the fuck!” He hissed pushing the brunet’s face away.

Oikawa lost his seducing smile immediately, replacing it with an offended pout.

“Think for a second, you brute!” He bit back, grabbing the raven’s hand and keeping it firmly in his.

Nice hands, smooth skin, strong grip Iwaizumi’s mind took note, as he groaned internally.

“I am thinking and I would like to remind you I’m a professional secret agent, here to save your shitty ass, so stop playing around!” He couldn’t fall into Oikawa’s trap like that, he had a pride, he had a-

A flash of hurt glinted in Oikawa’s eyes as he let his hand go and Iwaizumi felt guilty on spot. “First, I wasn’t playing around. Second, if your job is to protect me, then it would be more convenient for everyone if you spent all your time with me. And what better excuse than a sudden, innocent flirt?” He explained slowly, straightening his back. Because, alright, Oikawa found the agent hot and he was curious and had vaguely wondered about how those arms would feel around him instead of listening to the rave, but he was not the type of guy to sell himself or sleep around, he had a pride. A big one.

Iwaizumi seemed to notice the misunderstanding and calmed a bit, raising his hands as a sign of peace. What Oikawa had said wasn’t completely foolish, especially as a way to strengthen his cover; they had high possibilities of being attacked during that week and, with all the people around, having an excuse to stick to Oikawa wasn’t that bad…

Iwaizumi rubbed the back of his neck with an exasperated sigh; he’d never had to deal with such a problematic situation before. Maybe because he had never met someone as problematic as Oikawa.

He finally brought back his gaze on Oikawa, who was waiting for an answer. He seemed composed, still a bit offended maybe, but Iwaizumi had started to think that the way he bit his bottom lip and his fingers twitched was a sign of anxiety. And damn, the hopeful light in his blown-wide eyes was too much.

“You,” Iwaizumi began, knitting his brows, “You are afraid.”

Oikawa scoffed, crossing his arms and dramatically rolling his eyes, “I’m not afraid, I’m just smart and with a decent sense of self-preservation. I have a match in two weeks, I can’t forfeit because I’m dead. Or worse, injured.” The only thought cast angry shadows on Oikawa’s face and Iwaizumi snorted, shaking his head.

“Sure, Shittykawa, sure.” He was amazed by the brunet’s fierce attachment to volleyball, but it was also… interesting. So, he could do be serious about something.

“Then it’s settled?” Oikawa pushed, hopefully, and Iwaizumi nodded.

“YES!” Oikawa cheered, nearly jumping up, but Iwaizumi held up a finger.

“But,” he interrupted Oikawa’s happy dance, “I have a condition.”

“A condition?”

“You have to do what I say.”

“Oh, kinky, Agent-san!” Oikawa smirked and Iwaizumi slapped the back of his head, earning a “Brute!”

“I’m serious Shittykawa. Especially in case of emergency, your safety comes first.” He reminded him sternly and Oikawa calmed down, nodding.

“Yes, sir!” He mocked a salute and Iwaizumi gave a half-hearted glare.

The two stood up, stretching, and Oikawa hummed. The garden had gradually emptied, all the guests heading over to dinner, and the sky had darkened to a deep blue.

“Ah! We forgot the most important thing!” Oikawa chirped, suddenly locking their arms together. Iwaizumi risked to jolt, but, as he chanted in his head, he was a professional, so he relaxed beside the brunet as a proper, charmed-away guy would have.

“What now?”

He didn’t see the small smile that bloomed on Oikawa’s lips at the gesture, who purposefully leaned a bit against the other boy. Damn, he was firm. Sugawara was going to laugh so much when he would tell him.

“Your name! The real one!” He curved to whisper in his ear, as a child asking for the biggest secret.

Iwaizumi shivered as his hot breath caressed the skin of his ear, but again remained impassive.

“No. Go with Hiri Nezumi.”

“Why?” Oikawa whined petulantly, hanging from his arm.

“I don’t want you to blow my cover by mistake,” Iwaizumi frowned, but his mouth pulled into a smirk.

“I wouldn’t! Stop overestimating me!” Oikawa complained scrunching his nose.

“You would.”

“I wouldn’t”

“You would.”

“I wouldn’t”

Iwaizumi stopped midtrack and with a tug forced the other boy to face him. Oikawa hadn’t noticed, but they were already on the crowded patio of the villa.

“You would, trust me,” Iwaizumi whispered as he gently grabbed Oikawa’s tie and faked to fix it for him, strong, calloused hands brushing against his sensitive neck, “I’m not saying you would do it on purpose, but you could call me out during an emergency or something similar and we would be fucked up. So, please, use Hiri Nezumi.”

Oikawa gulped, praying his cheeks weren’t as red as he felt them, and observed Iwaizumi’s adamant, but gentle gaze. He really didn’t want to belittle him, he was doing it for his safety.

It was annoying and unfair, Oikawa wanted to know it badly, but in the end be huffed, shifting his eyes to the ground.

“Fine,” He agreed begrudgingly and immediately Iwaizumi offered a small smile, relieved.

“Good, now let’s go,” he mused, ruffling absent-mindedly Oikawa’s hair, before grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the house, “And try to woo me right, you dumbass.” His ears were flaming red.

Oikawa, jaw-dropped, stumbled behind him.

“Damn,” he thought, failing to hold back a giddy smile, “You’re the one who’s wooing me right, Agent-san.”

Instead, he complained, “But tonight I’m the one deciding what to do, Hiri-chan! No buts!”

Iwaizumi sat down by Oikawa’s side, who promptly pressed play on the remote, and then shifted. He crossed his arms and unfolded them two or three times. He tapped with his fingers the armrest of the couch. He moved a bit to the left, then to the right. He overlapped the left leg on the right and then switched. He resumed the initial position and was going to move an inch forward when suddenly Oikawa swiftly turned and put his legs on Iwaizumi’s lap.

“Oi, Shittykawa!” He roared, surprised, but Oikawa glared back, pushing against his chest a cushion and forcing his arms around it.

“Hug this and stay still for God’s sake!” he muttered, using his weight to pin him to the couch. Iwaizumi pulled a face but kept silent since he knew that he was moving a little too much.

“Are all spies this restless?” Oikawa huffed, resuming watching the screen with interest.

“…I’m not used to this,” Iwaizumi reluctantly admitted, trying to follow the plot of the episode, “Is the first one of the first season?”

“To this as to watching a tv series with someone else?” Oikawa asked giving him a cheeky, but curious glance, “And obviously it’s the first one. You’ve never seen it, right? You can’t appreciate it if we don’t start from here.”

“To not having something to do,” Iwaizumi corrected with a shrug, “Won’t you get bored watching them all over again?”

Iwaizumi was being honest. Usually, at times like this, he was busy keeping an eye on his target, monitoring the cameras and trying to remain vigil. Now, well, now he only had to enjoy a tv series and try not to fall asleep, glancing at his special watch from time to time in case Akaashi sent him an emergency message. It was strange, a bit unnatural, but sort of…nice. He hadn’t done something like that in a long time.

“I would never get tired of the X-Files.” Oikawa was as serious as if he had just revealed the meaning of life and Iwaizumi snorted.

“I bet nobody wants to see them with you anymore, you nerd…”

“Mean Agent-san! They just don’t understand the beauty of this masterpiece!”

“I pity them…”

They fell into a comfortable silence as the episode went on. And then another one and another. At some point, Iwaizumi shoulders had finally slouched against the couch in a relaxed position, while his fingers mindlessly drew circles on Oikawa’s leg, still on his lap. If the boy had minded, he hadn’t said anything and Iwaizumi had continued.

Truth is, Oikawa was freaking inside. Okay, he was aware he was hot and adorable, but usually people were a bit put off by his normal, house-behavior; he had used the excuse of Iwaizumi not being allowed to leave due to his job even if Oikawa was annoying or different from what he had thought, and sized the chance of a comfy night with his favorite series. What he hadn’t expected was Iwaizumi playing along with it. Yes, the agent had mocked him when he had changed in his pajamas with aliens and had raised an eyebrow questioningly at the series, but, still, he had sat down. Damn, he had left Oikawa’s legs onto his lap! He felt like he was going to combust.

He stole a little glance at the raven, sighing internally at the sight of his face. He liked the manly type. And Oikawa could also feel the weight of his arms on him and it was driving him crazy. He was such a crushing high-schooler.

The only thing missing was…

Iwaizumi snorted, “I bet you’re like him and you like it too.”

Oikawa gaped, taken aback. He didn’t expect Iwaizumi to break the silence first, not after four episodes.

The agent turned to give him an amused look, lips perked up with a smirk.

“W-who?” Oikawa stuttered hoping he hadn’t noticed he was staring. No, really, good job Tooru, suave as hell.

“Molder,” Iwaizumi replied, evident mirth in his voice, “You and Molder.”

Oikawa immediately puffed out his chest, proud, “Obviously! He’s the best character ever and yes, I’m proud of it! This is the best compliment ever!” he chirped, smiling widely, and the other scoffed.

“I meant you’re closet nerd.”

“A closet could never contain my nerdy greatness,” he stuck out his tongue and Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, pinching his leg, “And you’re totally Scully.”

“No offense taken, she’s pretty strong and capable,” Iwaizumi hummed and Oikawa grinned.

“I knew it!”

Iwaizumi then returned watching the screen, but Oikawa wasn’t going to miss his chance to talk with him.

“Why, Agent-san?” he chirped leaning toward him, “Do you want to know more about me?”

Iwaizumi shrugged, ignoring his act. “Not really.”

“Come on,” Oikawa whined petulantly, “I want to talk! Let’s play twenty questions!” he begged tugged his sleeve.

Iwaizumi had the good sense of not looking at him and chuckled, “Really? Twenty questions? Everyone knows nobody ever reaches it and it’s just another way to interrogate the shit out of the other one.”

Oikawa tugged harder, frowning.

“Do you interrogate people like that?” he teased, earning a glare. “Pretty please! One question each, for a bit! While we watch the show!”

Iwaizumi shouldn’t have glared at him because now he was stuck watching his brown eyes growing wide and glassy.

He shifted uncomfortably. With the life he led, that game could be more dangerous than anything. However, he wasn’t forced to answer everything. This didn’t smooth the fact he wasn’t used to be questioned and he really didn’t know what to expect from Oikawa. Probably the sneaky bastard wanted information about his work and…

“Pretty please!”

How could he make his lips quiver like that?

Iwaizumi sighed, slapping his hands away without force.

“I won’t reply to everything,” he warned, but Oikawa only let out a cheer, pumping up his fists.

“It’s fine! It’s fine!” the brunet replied, a hungry glint in his eyes. Iwaizumi was a bit wary of how observing and keen he was. He wondered if years of training could top Oikawa’s innate abilities and his training as a setter.

“I’ll start first!”

“What a surprise,” Iwaizumi huffed.

“Let’s see…” the agent braced himself, stiffening, “What’s your favorite color?”

“What?” Iwaizumi burst, looking at him bewildered.

“What’s your favorite color?” Oikawa replied with a serious, stern face.

Iwaizumi stared at him, blinking.

“That’s such a cliché question,” he chuckled in the end, shaking his head.

“No, it’s just underestimated!” Oikawa protested fiercely, “Colors say a lot about the personality!”

Iwaizumi snorted, covering his mouth with a hand. What a dork.

“So?”

“Deep blue.” Iwaizumi, despite his mocking, thought carefully about his answer and Oikawa beamed up.

“Mine is teal!” He added happily.

“And what does this tell about me?” Iwaizumi teased.

Oikawa grinned, “That we’re more than compatible, Agent-san!” he winked.

Iwaizumi lightly jabbed him.

“Your turn now.”

Iwaizumi distractedly watched as Molder ran after some strange creature.

“Do you believe in aliens?”

“Absolutely yes!” Oikawa nearly didn’t let him finish talking, bouncing up with enthusiasm, “There’s life out there! I’m just waiting for proofs! Or being abducted.”

Iwaizumi was wide-eyed, not knowing if he wanted to laugh at his childish passion or cringe at how dork he was. He also scolded his own brain for underlining he was still cute.

“And you?”

“No,” Iwaizumi stated bluntly and, for a second, Oikawa seemed disappointed, but then shrugged.

“You really are like Scully; one day, you’ll understand the truth.” He waved it off, ignoring Iwaizumi’s pointed look, “So, what do you do at home to relax?”

“I thought it was my turn again?”

“Don’t be childish, Agent-san.”

Iwaizumi sighed, pinching his calf now, and Oikawa yelped.

“I train usually, to blow some steam off.” He waited for Oikawa to complain of how boring he was, but the brunet just hummed in understanding.

“Yeah, I like practicing too. Sometimes I do it at night when I can’t sleep,” he revealed easily, somehow enough relaxed to spill the truth. Iwaizumi had a comforting aura, didn’t he?

The raven scowled, slapping his head.

“You’re a fucking pro athlete and you practice all the time? Haven’t you heard of exhaustion? You should take better care of yourself!” he growled as if he could see with his own eyes a sweaty Oikawa practicing on his own, in the middle of the night on an empty court.

Oikawa looked at him surprised and then pouted.

“I do relax sometimes, don’t be such a mom!” he muttered, years of people saying the same things echoing in his head. Well, maybe not that bluntly or aggressively.

Iwaizumi exhaled and rolled his eyes.

“I still have the feeling you exaggerate often,” he accused the brunet, but softened his tone, “I’m not saying to not train, but to not injure yourself. You seem to care too much about volleyball to lose it, so treat your body right.”

Oikawa listened to him in awed silence, feeling something warm swelling in his heart. Before it was too late and his blush too evident, he poked the raven’s cheek with a malicious smirk.

“You’re sooo caring, Agent-san,” he purred in a sultry voice and Iwaizumi swatted his finger away, reddening.

“Shut up, Trashywaka. Weren’t we playing?”

That worked on Oikawa and he nodded eagerly, “Your turn again!”

Iwaizumi, actually, hadn’t thought of anything yet, so he blurted out the first thing that came up to his mind.

“Do you live with someone?” Dumb move, even because he already knew the answer.

Oikawa’ smile saddened a bit, but his eyes softened with fondness.

“Nah, my roommate, and best friend, moved out when he married and now I’ve a big apartment for myself,” he kept his tone cheery, but it sounded forced to Iwaizumi, “And you?” he changed immediately topic.

The agent bit his tongue, not knowing what to say, and calibrated carefully his words.

“I live alone,” he replied slowly, “And I change place often since I don’t have a reason to take roots.”

Oikawa blinked at the news and the previous shadows seemed to disappear. It was sort of reassuring knowing he wasn’t the only one and….it meant Iwaizumi hadn’t a special partner, right?

“Don’t you ever feel alone? Not having your own place to return at? Not having someone to hug or giving you a welcome back?” he asked shifting his eyes around, nervously biting his bottom lip

Iwaizumi eyed him carefully, feeling the player wasn’t talking about him, and replied in a low, warm voice.

“I work a lot and I do it with my friends, so I feel it less,” he started cautiously, watching as Oikawa shrank a bit, “But, yes, it feels like that sometimes. It’d be nice to have a home,” he finished in a soft whisper and Oikawa opened in a heartfelt smile, nodding.

“Yeah, I know!” he chirped excitedly and his tongue slipped before he could stop himself, “Wouldn’t be amazing if we lived together after this?”

Iwaizumi stiffened, unconsciously gripping his hand around Oikawa’s leg.

The brunet gaped in horror realizing what he had just said after nearly a day of knowing the man, and started blabbering to smooth the tension, “I-I mean! I have an enormous apartment and I’m alone, you could crash when you wanted! I don’t know how to cook but we could order and, come on, I know everything so you wouldn’t have to worry about coming back covered in blood. But it was-“

Iwaizumi’s chuckle interrupted him and Oikawa’s heart stopped.

“Covered in blood?” he repeated amused. His shoulders were still tense, but at least his eyes weren’t that cold anymore. Inside, he was still screaming in panic over Oikawa’s offer and the sparkle of desire. But…that was absurd, wasn’t it?

“I bet it happened!” Oikawa crossed his arms, lifting his chin.

Iwaizumi hummed thoughtfully and the nodded, “Yeah, sometimes. Blood is a bitch to wash away."

“I’m good at laundry,” Oikawa boasted with a playful grin, “It took me some tries and I had pink socks for some months, but now I’m a pro. It would be perfect!”

“It would be a disaster,” Iwaizumi snorted, picturing Oikawa with pink socks, sliding on a bubbly floor.

“A funny, interesting disaster,” Oikawa corrected, a bit too hopefully maybe, but Iwaizumi ruffled roughly his hair.

“Yeah, a funny, interesting disaster,” he murmured with a hidden longing in his eyes, before shaking his head, “Wasn’t my turn?”

Oikawa had to fight the instinct to caress where Iwaizumi’s fingers had just lingered and threw the peace sign.

“Do your worst!”

“Do you regret it?” Iwaizumi had thought about that for hours and, even if he had an idea of what his answer could be, he wanted to hear it from Oikawa, “Not accepting the offer of that player, I mean. Would you refuse again if you knew you were risking your life.”

“No. I don’t regret it.” Oikawa’s voice was unwavering and his eyes firm, filled with seriousness, “Even if they put a knife to my throat, I’d never sell myself. Volleyball is my first love and my biggest treasure, I’d never dishonored us like that. Those bastards can come at me, I’ll still beat their asses on the court. I’ll never bow to anyone.”

They didn’t call him The Grand King for nothing, uh?

Iwaizumi smiled, satisfied by his answer, “I wouldn’t like to be your opponent on the court.” And it was true, he had (partially) misjudged Oikawa, there was more in him than what he let be seen. Except for his annoying traits, those were real.

Oikawa tilted his head with a smirk, “You’d be my partner, Agent-san!”

That, that made Iwaizumi blush a bit and he turned to look at the screen to hide his face.

“Your turn?” he waved mechanically a hand, missing the way Oikawa giggled satisfied at his reaction.

“Best friend?”

“Can’t tell you the name, but a childhood friend with a devastating wit.”

Oikawa bit his lip but accepted the reply, “Mine is Sugawara but maybe you know of him. Or you’ve read of him.” Iwaizumi did not confirm nor deny the accuse and chose the next question.

“Favorite food?” He already knew, but this way he felt less like he was cheating.

“Milk bread, you?”

“Agedashi tofu,” Oikawa muffled a chuckle. “Favorite sport?”

“Baseball and Volleyball, I won’t ask yours.” Iwaizumi relished in the light of Oikawa’s expression when he mentioned the “love of his life”.

“Have you ever played?”

“Wing spiker, in middle school.” The brunet goggled at him, mouth hanging open

“We absolutely have to play together,” Oikawa begged as if it was his dirtiest fantasy, and Iwaizumi nodded before he could realize it.

“Favorite movie, Shittykawa?”

“Star Wars. Yours?”

“Godzilla.”

“Suitable to the brute you are.” Oikawa had to avoid Iwaizumi’s hand, laughing amused.

“How many hours do you sleep per night?” Iwaizumi asked, “Yesterday I didn’t get to sleep thanks to you.”

Oikawa grinned sheepishly.

“Sorry, Agent-san, sometimes I get agitated and can’t sleep. I can function with three hours, but I try to sleep at least six.”

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes but didn’t comment. Oikawa, except for the practice thing, didn’t seem the type to purposefully endanger his own health.

“Boys or girls? I’m bi, by the way.” Oikawa asked, imperceptibly more tentatively this time around. However, Iwaizumi was waiting for a question like that and wasn’t disturbed at all.

“Boys.” Oikawa would have liked to stand up, open the window and howl his satisfaction to the moon. Instead, he only smiled with glittering eyes and waited for Iwaizumi’s question. The boy took a little more time to think.

There was something that was bugging him, but he felt nervous at asking. He mulled it over, scratching the back of his neck, and finally exhaled with a frown creasing his forehead.

“Why…” he started slowly, searching for the right words, “Why you don’t call me Hiri-chan in private?” He had noticed that strange occurrence through the night and for some reasons it was really disturbing him.

Oikawa seemed to freeze for a moment and instantly worn his polite facade with a shining, perfect smile. Iwaizumi frowned deeper.

“It’s just…” Oikawa fidgeted uncomfortably, swallowing, and then his voice came out in a quiet, fragile murmur, “…I don’t want to get attached to a false name.”

Iwaizumi held his breath.

He should have steeled himself and told Oikawa he shouldn’t get attached to him at all. He should have invented an excuse and sent him to bed before it was too late. He should have returned to his own room because it wasn’t possible Oikawa was doing that too him in such a small time. Iwaizumi didn’t believe in soulmate or love at first sight, he had had to protect weak partners from their abusive special others too many times.

Yet, there he was, relief washing over him and warmth cradling his heart because yes, he didn’t want Oikawa to get attached to a fake name too. Instead, he felt the temptation to tell him the real one, just to hear the brunet pronouncing it.

He had to physically restrain himself by clenching his fists.

Oikawa was still eyeing him on the edge, fearing that was the word that finally was going to make Iwaizumi stand and flee from the room. He really couldn’t shut up, didn’t he?

“Tooru, are you sure? She was a nice girl!” Sugawara flopped on the bed beside him and Oikawa groaned as his best friend stole his magazine.

“I didn’t feel like she was the right one,” he shrugged trying to retrieve it, but Sugawara raised it out of his reach. “Don’t worry Kou-chan, I’m fine as I am. Single, happy and free.”

“I’m just worried at leaving you here alone,” Sugawara’s eyes with tainted with worry and Oikawa smoothed with a finger the creases on his forehead.

“Stop being such a mom and marry your Mr. Ideal Husband,” Oikawa joked lightly, “You know how I am, I don’t want to things half-heartedly.”

“You mean a sappy, romantic, hopeless dork who sucks at flirting when it matters the most?” Sugawara asked with a teasing grin, tickling his side.

Oikawa squeaked and nearly fell from the bed; luckily, he managed to block his evil best friend in time and smirked, eyes fierce and blazing.

“Not that, you Meany,” he gave just a half-hearted glare, “You know my motto “If you hit it, hit it until it breaks.” For me, love is like that too. I’m just waiting for something worthy to hit.”

Oikawa, since childhood, had always had a knack for being able to do everything perfectly and enviably except for the things that mattered the most to him.

He was already thinking of standing up and excusing himself to hole up in the bathroom when Iwaizumi let out a short laugh and his heart clenched so hard Oikawa dramatically thought he was going to die.

“You’re helpless,” the raven muttered rolling his eyes and Oikawa nearly cried in relief. It hadn’t been the best answer he could hope for, but at least he didn’t seem angry nor intentioned to flee.

That meant only one thing.

“I don’t know what you’re referring too,” he pouted exaggeratedly and Iwaizumi scoffed, smoothly changing the topic with another question about his friends.

Oikawa had one chance to fight.

“If you hit it, hit it until it breaks.”

It was nearly two in the morning and Oikawa had finally fallen asleep, breathing lightly as he hugged a cushion to his chest, forehead resting against Iwaizumi’s shoulder in a position the raven deemed more than uncomfortable. He was still watching X-Files, having to admit it wasn’t that bad, when his watch emitted a short beep.

Iwaizumi frowned and immediately pushed the small button on the side, as the transceiver in his ear buzzed to life.

“Akaashi?” he whispered, eyeing the sleeping brunet. He had taken so long to fall asleep that Iwaizumi couldn’t risk waking him up again.

“Iwaizumi-san, how everything’s going?” Okay, the fact Akaashi wasn’t bombarding orders into his ear it meant it wasn’t a red code emergency and Iwaizumi exhaled in relief.

“Fine,” he muttered, “Better than I thought. He’s sleeping now.”

Akaashi chuckled.

“If you say it like that, in your language it means you like him, Iwaizumi-san”

The agent could see Akaashi smirking like a cat playing with the mouse, and he growled.

“Have you something to tell me or you just wanted company? Where is your owl boyfriend?”

His teammate turned serious, his voice getting sharper as he explained the reason for the call.

“Golden Owl and Black Panther are checking the border of the gigantic villa. We’ve noticed strange movements at some point, but now everything is calm again. Captain has warned us there’s something moving into the yakuza’s headquarter, so I’m afraid they’ll make a move soon.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes sharpened and his body tensed as if he was going to fight on spot.

“I’m ready anytime,” he muttered, a rush of cold adrenaline rushing through his veins.

Then, he felt a piercing glare onto his face and snapped his head to the right, finding Oikawa’s focused stare trained on him. The boy was studying, analyzing him in a way that sent the alarms off in Iwaizumi’s mind.

“Check the cameras tonight. I don’t think they’ll attack now, but we can’t risk it.”

“Fine,” he cut off, not wanting to say anything else with Oikawa awake; he seemed the type who wanted to get involved in everything and ended up doing stupid shit. But it was too late.

“He’s listening?” Akaashi was perceptive as usual.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t want to scare him?”

“Shut up.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Akaashi chuckled, “I’ll leave you to it now, Iwaizumi-san. Sorry for interrupting your date.”

“Oi you dem-” His friend hanged up and Iwaizumi hit the armrest with a frustrated, embarrassed growl. He hated his friends.

“They are coming?” Oikawa asked quietly, as if he was reasoning on the next play to call.

Iwaizumi roughly shoved him away and stood up, stretching.

“Not now, if we’re lucky. Go back to sleep,” he ordered reaching his black bags, in search of his pc.

Oikawa didn’t even whine and just gracefully stumbled down the couch, following the raven.

“I’m awake now, let me help you,” he hummed bouncing around him and studying critically his devices.

“Don’t be an idiot and sleep, I’m trying to work,” Iwaizumi barked, trying to set up everything. He didn’t want to involve Oikawa more than he already was and, in particular, he knew how distracting the brunet could be. Iwaizumi needed to be focused to protect him efficiently.

“Pleaseee,” Oikawa begged, “I’m awake! Totally awake, I can’t sleep. Especially knowing the bad guys are coming. I don’t want them to find me unconscious!” Maybe, just maybe, there was a slightly hysterical pitch in his voice.

Iwaizumi sighed rubbing his eyes and turned to him, “Oikawa, trust me. Nobody is coming tonight and you need to rest. And even if they came, I’m here to save your shitty ass, so stop worrying.”

Oikawa crossed his arms and lifted his chin, stubbornly refusing to return to bed.

“I’ll stay in silence, let me keep you company.”

Iwaizumi clenched his jaw, irritated by his antics.

“No, you wouldn’t and you just want to snoop around. Go to bed.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes, offended.

“You can’t force me,” he hissed.

At that, Iwaizumi arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms too. Oikawa would have enjoyed the view of his tense, broad chest and bulky arms, but he was too busy being annoyed by being treated like a child.

“Last warning Oikawa, last warning.” Iwaizumi’s voice was cold and threatening, a low rumble. “Go. To. Fucking. Bed.”

The brunet pressed his lips together and shook his head.

The agent huffed and shrugged.

“You asked for this.”

“Ag-”

Before Oikawa could understand what was going on, Iwaizumi landed a swift, precise hit on his neck and the boy lost consciousness. The raven managed to catch his body before he could fall, murmuring insults at his height.

“I bet that if I let you fall, you’ll never stop complaining tomorrow,” he mumbled putting an arm around his waist and one under his knees, “Hell, what I’m saying? After this, you’re surely going to be a little shit for the rest of the week. Why you have to be so stubborn?” He picked Oikawa up bridal style and carried him to the bed, thanking his years of training.

Even if he was still scowling and denying that he actually admired Oikawa’s tenacity, Iwaizumi put him down gently on the mattress and tucked his blankets properly. When he finished, he lost some seconds watching the boy’s peaceful expression.

“And you’re so annoyingly handsome when you shut up, Shittykawa,” he finally complained with a frustrated groan, marching back towards his improvised stationing. The problem was, Iwaizumi knew he liked him even when he didn’t.

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codename-bewareofthefangirl · 7 years ago

Text

Hell Mission, IwaOi

DEAAAR @kiviont! Sorry, when people tag me in the comments I don’t receive any notification and I’ve noticed it only know. Anyway, I’ve written this on the train during a no-day, trying to cheer me up. After your comic I was stuck on the story and in the end I couldn’t resist: I wrote this little thing, just to satisfy myself a bit. Now, I’ve corrected it (I hope, since usually my English sucks) and fixed some parts; I don’t know if I should write a sequel or not, every time I write about IwaOi I feel like I could write about them for hours. I hope you won’t be disappointed by the the setting, explanations or developing. I just love their bantering and immediate pining: those two for me a real soulmates.

Have fun and enjoy!

IwaOi, Spy!Iwaizumi x ProPlayer!Oikawa AU, Inspired by/Sequel of This Post, Humor, Fluff, Oikawa Is Thirsty, Iwaizumi Is Done, Mentions of Akaashi/Bokuto/Kuroo/Sugawara

Hell Mission

“Akaashi please send someone else.”

“Iwaizumi-san pl-”

“Akaashi, I’m serious. Send. Someone. Else.”

A sigh from the other end of the transceiver.

“Iwaizumi-san, it’s the first time you’ve asked me something like this in years and I’d love to help you, but, unfortunately, it’s impossible. I can’t send a substitute agent at this time.”

Iwaizumi groaned loudly, hitting the white wall with the palm of the hand.

“Why?” He asked, nearly begged.

Another sigh.

“First, because we’ve already sent to anyone who’s organizing the wedding party your false identity and you can’t suddenly disappear. It could blow our cover.” Akaashi kept speaking in an unexpressive tone, but Iwaizumi could recognize that infamous inflection he used to calm down Bokuto during his childish mood swings and it was irking him, “Second, you’re closed in the restroom. What do you expect me to do?”

Oh, the devil was even smirking right now, Iwaizumi could swear it.

“He’s tried to hit on me. He. Has. Hit. On. Me.” He hissed trying to keep his voice down as someone suddenly entered the luxurious bathroom.

“Yeah, he has good tastes, nothing strange.” Iwaizumi had to bite his tongue to not curse and clenched his fists, waiting for the guest to leave. When he heard the toilet flush and the door closing, he exhaled tiredly.

“Do not make things worse, Akaashi. I’m not supposed to get in touch with him.”

“He’s the one trying to approach you, it would be more strange to blatantly avoid him. Especially when he’s that handsome, and please do not deny it, I have eyes.”

“Yeah, I have them too, thanks. But he’s a freak: he’s followed me after I turned him down and he’s annoyingly persistent. He calls me Hiri-chan and I haven’t even told him my fake name. By the way, I fucking hate it.”

Iwaizumi should have known, from the second his eyes had lingered a second too much on that fake, flamboyant smile, that the mission was going to be hell. “It’s the usual bodyguard stuff!” they have said, “It’s only a week!”, “You’re attending a wedding! You can eat and enjoy yourself as much as you want!” they have repeated while pushing him on a plane to L.A.

Bullshit.

After three hours of following around his never-stopping target, the same guy had had the guts to corner Iwaizumi and shamelessly hit on him.

“It only means the cover is working well,” Akaashi tried to reassure him, not understanding what was bothering his colleague that much, (apart from the name thing, but he found that amusing), “You can’t do nothing about his…cheerful personality.”

“Shitty personality!” Iwaizumi automatically corrected him, “I’ve seen him showing real emotions maybe twice in the entire day…Anyway! That’s not the problem! I wasn’t trying to attract attention, Akaashi. Hell! I tried to keep a low profile!” Iwaizumi said frustrated as he paced back and forth the lucid tile of the toilet. At that point, he hoped someone was going to attack the target for real so that he could vent all that stress out.

“Bokuto let you know that it’s because you’re hot, especially with that shirt, and to not worry about it.” In the background, Iwaizumi could hear the loud agent cackling, probably with Kuroo.

“Tell him I’m going to whoop his ass as soon as I come back.”

He could practically hear Akaashi’ smile.

“I will,” he complied with the usual politeness, “Now, please Iwaizumi-san, leave that restroom and go back to the party. Our target can’t remain without cover too long and you’ve been away for fifteen minutes.”

Iwaizumi sighed, rubbing his temples, but nodded. He knew he hadn’t a choice and, honestly, now that he had calmed a bit, his pride as a secret agent was prodding him to find his mark and do his job as good as he usually did: perfectly. Iwaizumi wasn’t the ace agent of his agency without motive.

“Akaashi?”

“Yes?”

“Keep your eyes open,” Iwaizumi mumbled, “That guy approached me too quickly. It’s strange.”

“Iwaizumi-san, he’s a professional volleyball player, please relax.”

He heard a sudden ruckus and a loud voice pierced his left eardrum.

“GOOD LUCK IWA!” Bokuto screamed excitedly. “EAT A LOT OF GOOD FOOD! THE TARTS LOOK DELICIOUS!”

“Relax Iwa!” Kuroo followed with a lazy chuckle “The poor boy just wants a good bang!”

Iwaizumi felt his vein popping and he angrily hanged up before he could lose his patience and blow his cover by yelling at those dumbasses of his friends.

Gritting his teeth, he straightened the collar of his shirt and checked the guns and knife were hidden in their place. He finally opened the door and cautiously exited from the toilet, surveying his surroundings.

Clear.

He washed his face with cold water and glared at his reflection in the mirror, green eyes ready to murder someone on the spot.

“You can do it,” he whispered to himself, “You’re a professional.”

Iwaizumi took a deep breath and braced himself.

Oikawa Tooru was just a normal, egocentric, pretty guy. Everything was going to be fine.

Or maybe not.

The next day, Iwaizumi was once again locked in the toilet of the restroom, trying to understand what the hell had gone wrong with his mission.

“How the fuck is possible?! Is he the devil?” he roared, scrolling through the photos he had taken that morning.

“Well, this is…interesting.” Akaashi mused in his ear.

“No, it’s creepy!” Iwaizumi repeated, tapping furiously on his camera. He felt partially infuriated, partially amazed and a tiny bit scared.

“Are you sure it’s not a coincidence?”

“I was taking photos of everyone, strolling casually around. I was far away, using the zoom to locate him. It can’t be a coincidence,” He replied, staring at a pair of sharp chocolate eyes, “It can’t be.”

After the incident of the afternoon before, he had decided to try and avoid direct contact with the target. He had kept Oikawa under surveillance from further away, focusing on chatting with other guests and building a more credible cover. During the night, he had managed to sleep only three hours, as that devil had chosen to stay up watching old volleyball matches and shitty tv series until four; for this reason, at morning he had been less than inclined to interact and had used the excuse of photography both to avoid conversations and keep an eye on Oikawa from afar. He had taken photos of him, probably with the idea of studying him later.

And Iwaizumi could have sworn that every time he had pressed the button and snapped the photo, Oikawa wasn’t looking at him. He shouldn’t have, because Iwaizumi was far away and faking to photograph flowers, other peoples enjoying themselves and other shit like that. Because Iwaizumi was undercover and a plain, normal guy that had never talked before with the amazing Oikawa Tooru. Because Iwaizumi was good at his job and his job meant secrecy and going unnoticed.

And yet, there he was. Looking directly into the lens, a faint grin on the thin lips as he challenged Iwaizumi.

“This bastard is playing around,” he growled tightening his grip around a particularly good photo of the boy, sunrays playing with his chestnut hair as he entertained a group of damsels, surrounded by bushes of roses. But he was gazing at Iwaizumi.

“Iwai-”

“Don’t worry Akaashi, one way or another I’ll win this battle!” He felt his heart drumming, the lips curving into a predatory smile. Oikawa wanted to play? Oh, he was ready. Iwaizumi was going to show him how fucking good he was.

“Iwaizumi-san I don’t think you should let hi-”

“Later. I’m going.” And he cut off the communication, storming out of the bathroom ready to fight.

Iwaizumi made small conversation with some random guests, just to mix in the group as he strolled around the spacious, shining ballroom. He side-glanced Oikawa, still surrounded by squealing fans; funny thing, Iwaizumi had never seen him talking to the same person more than twice. Did he really know someone there? He didn’t remember reading about Oikawa’s friends, but maybe he had forgotten it and it wouldn’t have been a surprise. The room was full of people he had been forced to memorize faces and identities, all dressed up in elegant dresses and suits, but that he was already forgetting. It was just…too much. A soft music played in the air, the crystal chandeliers gave everything a golden aura. Well, for being on of the most awaited wedding of the year, they were doing a good job.

“Some champagne, sir?” A posh waiter offered him a flute and he gladly accepted.

The problem with this kind of events? There were too many people. Even if you learned the identity of every guest, an unexpected enemy could still sneak in as a waiter or a forgotten relative or…well, pretty much as everyone. And, obviously, Oikawa had to accept the invite to such a grand occasion instead of staying in his small, tidy apartment where his team could watch over him with ease.

Iwaizumi fought to not frown and sipped the champagne.

“At least the food is good…”

“Well, I’m happy you’re enjoying at least that, since you seem to dislike the company.” It took Iwaizumi all the years of training to not jolt. He stiffened and tried to keep his poker face as he turned to greet his sudden interlocutor.

“The fact that I dislike your company it doesn’t mean I dislike everyone else’s,” he replied blankly. Five seconds before, that little shit was at least twenty feet away from him, how had he done it?

Oikawa Tooru, staring down at him with evident mirth, burst in an amused chuckle.

“Oh no, I’m pretty sure you’re bored out of your mind,” Oikawa winked at him, “I’m an incredibly good observer.” His smirk got sharper as he finished the sentence.

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Really? Is it due to your job?” He faked to not know every single detail of Oikawa’s life.

The brunet frowned and then gaped offended, realizing what he meant.

“You don’t know who am I?” He asked incredulous, a ridiculous pout on his lips.

“I even know your favorite brand of milk bread,” Iwaizumi thought, yet he answered with a shrug.

“I just know you’re annoying. And suck at flirting.”

Oikawa was jaw-dropped. Iwaizumi had to mask a grin watching his butt-hurt expression.

“I,” Oikawa stressed it as he scrunched the nose, “am the national volleyball player Oikawa Tooru-”

“Oh right, I’ve seen you. You’re not bad.”

“I’m not bad?-What?-I’m the best!” Oikawa was now outraged, and Iwaizumi couldn’t restrain himself anymore, bursting in a warm laughter.

“Are you making fun of me?” Oikawa asked suspiciously, crossing his arms. Iwaizumi shrugged again, still a faint smirk on his face.

“Maybe?” He took another sip and glanced around, but nothing attracted his attention. Not when his target was chatting with him, not when the most outstanding man in the room was whining like a child by his side.

“And, anyway,” Oikawa continued poking his shoulder, “I don’t suck at flirting.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes.

“You pinned me to a wall, talking about smooth and subtle,” Iwaizumi snorted, giving him a dirty look. Oikawa scoffed and replied with an alluring half-smile.

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle.” Iwaizumi ignored his cheeks heating up and his mind screaming “FUCK HE’S HOT” and remained deadpan.

“Guess it’s not your forte, anyway.”

Oikawa threw up his hands with an exaggerated sigh, “Let’s leave that aside! I mean,” he corrected himself, “it is outrageous and absurd that you don’t appreciate my appeal, yet I’m more disturbed by the fact that this conversation has just destroyed all my hypothesis.”

Even if he still wore that carefree smile, Iwaizumi noted how his eyes had become suddenly serious. He should have left with an excuse, not letting his target drag him into dangerous situation but…there was something captivating, something that pushed Iwaizumi to stay to discover, see more about him. He felt curious. And, damn, challenged and irritated, but that was another factor.

“What hypothesis?” he asked as Oikawa checked him from head to toes.

“Uh? Ah, that you are a tsundere, obsessive fan of mine.” Iwaizumi’s disgusted and horrified expression hurt Oikawa’ pride.

“Do you have this kind of fans?”

“Yeah, from time to time, but you evidently are not one of them.”

“On my dead body,” Iwaizumi assured him gravely. Fuck the mission, he has his pride to protect.

Oikawa nodded, acknowledging his words, and hummed thoughtfully. His long, slender fingers loosened up the knot of the teal tie he was wearing and Iwaizumi’s eyes flickered to the smooth skin of his throat.

“So,” Oikawa mused regaining the other’s attention in a heartbeat, “Why were you photographing me?”

Iwaizumi risked choking. Shit, that dumbass really wasn’t subtle at all.

He stared at his target. The boy was waiting, trying to hide the trepidation behind the sharp, piercing eyes, and everything in his body posture, straight back and arms crossed, signaled that he didn’t have any intention of back up without an answer. Maybe, there was a little of fear or hesitancy in the way he bit the corner of his bottom lip, but Iwaizumi felt sure that wasn’t going to stop Oikawa. He had seen one of his matches: that guy was made to fight, especially battles that seemed impossible.

“How did you know?” He asked instead, taking his time to choose what to do.

Oikawa flashed a peace sign, grinning proudly.

“Setters’ keen senses,” He replied puffing his chest out, “A real setter is able to see everything on the court and to analyze every detail to plan how to move. I told you, I am the best.”

His unwavering self-coincidence struck Iwaizumi. The setter wasn’t joking, he was oozing honesty and pride and, for once, it was genuine and sort of…not annoying? Iwaizumi could tell it wasn’t just boasting, Oikawa knew what he was talking about and seemed to have worked hard for it.

“So?” Oikawa pushed, leaning a bit to get on the same-eye level of his.

Iwaizumi clicked his tongue, irritated by the difference in height, and flickered his forehead. He grabbed the tie of the brunet and pulled him closer.

“Follow me,” he ordered in a gruff whisper and quickly turned on his heels, walking straight to the balcony.

Oikawa, cheeks reddening, stumbled on his feet and rushed behind him. That had been…hot. Shit that man was hot. Hot. Hot. Hot. Oikawa could hear his friend Sugawara laughing at him for being such a clumsy, thirsty teenager.

Iwaizumi guided them until they were in a secluded area of the garden, inside a childish maze of pruned hedges. The red rays of the dying sun cast strange shadows on the ground, while silly couples chased each other or strolled peacefully while talking in whispers. The man nudged to the brunet to sit on a bench of stone.

Oikawa was literally quivering with curiosity as he bounced his leg up and down while he waited for the answer. He wanted to know why that -hot- stranger was observing, or stalking, him and he really, really hoped it wasn’t because he was a sort of psychopath.

Iwaizumi scanned the area, searching for any sign of threats. When he found none, he finally brought his gaze back on the player.

“Could you stop moving? You’re attracting attention,” he grunted with a dirty look.

Oikawa glared.

“If you answered me, maybe I could,” he coldly replied, yet he did as asked and smoothly relaxed his shoulders. He even wore a fake smile, as a practiced mask.

Iwaizumi snorted at his expression, but didn’t comment.

“Do you remember the middle-blocker from the Kyoto Team you defeated three weeks ago?” he asked instead, stretching a bit to loosen the tension in his muscles.

Oikawa eyes fell on his arms and his throat dried.

“You mean the lousy, whiny middle-blocker that offered me money to let them win?” Oikawa managed to answer, tearing his gaze away and focusing on Iwaizumi’s face. Bad idea, those cheekbones were sharp enough to cut his heart in two.

The raven nodded, hiding a smirk at the disgust in Oikawa’s voice.

“That one,” he confirmed, “He hadn’t lied when he had threatened you, dumbass. He really was from Yakuza.” Iwaizumi revealed it slowly, trying to read every expression passing in Oikawa’s eyes.

Surprise. Shock. Confusion. Understanding.

Fear.

“Yakuza?” he repeated, playing with the hem of his shirt. “I thought he was bluffing...” Even if he was trying to conceal the tremor in his voice, Iwaizumi still noticed it.

“Yeah, he’s one of the younger sons. He didn’t take really well your rejection and…asked his dad to take care of it, to heal his wounded pride. The fact that you whooped his ass during the match didn’t help.”

Oikawa frozen, chocolate eyes blown wide. His entire body tensed and Iwaizumi stilled in response; he had a feeling that if he dared to make the slightest move, the setter was going to flee with all of his energy.

“So?” Oikawa whispered, forcing a blank expression.

Iwaizumi frowned. Fear didn’t suit Oikawa.

“So, they sent me to protect your shitty ass, stop being so fucking scared.”

Oikawa gaped, “You’re here to protect me?” he shrilled loudly and Iwaizumi cursed, slapping a hand over his mouth with a deadly glare.

“I’m trying, but you’re making things difficult Trashkawa!” he growled as he glanced around. Nothing suspicious.

Oikawa nodded and Iwaizumi released him before his mind could focus on the fact that Oikawa’s lips were in fact as soft as they looked and-Fuck.

“Who asked you to protect me?” he whispered excitedly, smiling like a child, “Are you a bodyguard? Have you done this before? Is your name really Hiri Nezumi? Have you already find someone suspicious? Can I help you in any way?” At every question, Oikawa inched closer until he was few breaths away from Iwaizumi’s embarrassed face.

Shit, his lashes were long.

“First,” he slapped his hand on Oikawa’s face and pushed him away, “We were already monitoring that gang and we couldn’t let them kill off a national player, so we took action.”

“I knew you knew who I was!” Oikawa cheered proudly, making him roll his eyes.

“Second,” Iwaizumi continued, “I’m a secret agent, not a full-time bodyguard and-”

“That’s so cool!” the brunet thrilled bouncing on his seat and Iwaizumi felt the need to slap him on the head and hug him at the same time. Oikawa was more of a dork than what he seemed.

“Anyway, my name is not Hiri Nezumi*, my stupid colleagues chose that stupid name for me.”

Oikawa snorted and chirped a “Fitting,” before Iwaizumi shut him with a glare.

“And finally, no I haven’t found anyone suspicious for now and the only way you can help me is behaving and not blowing my cover. Do what you were doing, be normal, forget everything.”

Oikawa pouted, deluded.

“But I can’t forget it now that I know it!” He complained waving his hands around, “I can’t Agent-san! Absolutely impossible.”

Iwaizumi groaned, “Do you want to die? No? Do what I say.”

Oikawa stubbornly shook his head and Iwaizumi felt tempted to stun him and lock him away until the week had passed. He wasn’t bothered about it being illegal, not when Oikawa’s capacity of annoying the shit out of him and still looking cute was illegal as fuck.

“What if I have a better idea?” Oikawa interrupted his dark plans and the raven knew from that sultry tone that he was going to regret everything he had done until that moment.

The brunet leaned again, locking eyes with him. A hopeful, tempting light shined on his perfect face and Iwaizumi would have wanted to stand up and leave, but he could only restrain himself from headbutting him. Or kissing him. He hadn’t decided yet.

“I bet it’s going to be a stupid one,” he deadpanned, but Oikawa didn’t waver.

“Well, you have to keep an eye on me, right?” Iwaizumi nodded slightly and Oikawa’s sharp grin widened, “Then, let me flirt successfully with you, Mr. Secret Agent-san,” he whispered tilting his head to the side, chestnut locks falling on his eyes, “I’ll make sure you’ll never lose sight of me for the rest of the week, night and day. Never.”

Oh, Iwaizumi should have known that mission was going to be hell.

His target was the devil himself.

*Hirinezumi means Hedgehog (guess who has chosen it ;D)

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