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(fic) haikyuu!! | hanamaki/matsukawa
t, 770w
Takahiro sees his first hints of it in the low light of an izakaya. Issei is very much like he was back in high school, droopy eyes, a lazy grin tugging at his lips and his posture so relaxed that Takahiro feels the tension leaving his own body in response.
"Sorry I was late. You even took the train all the way into the city to meet me and I kept you waiting." Issei's voice is gravelly as he drops into the seat opposite Takahiro and this hasn't changed either: not the lateness, not the complete lack of sincerity in his apology, and definitely not the way Takahiro's heart squeezes in his chest at the mere sight of Issei. It feels tighter now, when their meetings are now months apart instead of mere hours apart like they used to be back in high school.
The way he's sitting, elbows resting against the table, tie pulled loose, makes Takahiro's mouth run dry. It's unfair that Issei should have this effect on him, when Takahiro knew him through his least flattering years. Takahiro can still remember the way Issei looked when he was lanky and awkward, his limbs too long for the rest of his body. Never mind that he's filled out now, that he moves with the unhurried grace of somene who is perfectly comfortable in their own skin.
It's then that Takahiro glimpses it, the shadow of something dark against the very edges of Issei's work shirt. He reaches across the table without thought, hooking his fingers over the collar of Issei's button-down and tugging the material down as far as it will go.
Issei goes very still under Takahiro's touch. It takes a moment, and then Takahiro remembers that they aren't kids in a volleyball club room any more, that he's being too familiar, but by that point, he doesn't even care about it any more.
"A tattoo." His voice sounds breathless to his own ears but he barely has any time to dwell on that. "What the fuck. You have a tattoo. I leave you in the big city for half a year and you join the yakuza?"
"This is Sendai," Issei says, brushing Takahiro's hand away from his collar. "And it's just a tattoo. Didn't think you were that old-fashioned."
"You have a tattoo," Takahiro repeats, his mind stuck on this one fact. He wants to tug the collar of Issei's shirt down again to have a better look. "I only saw a bit of it. What is it? God. You got a volleyball tattooed over your heart didn't you?"
"I'm not Oikawa," Issei replies, laughing. He traces a swirl over the left side of his chest and up to his shoulder. "It's a dragon."
"I wanna see."
"I'm not unbuttoning my shirt for you in the middle of an izakaya."
"Coward," Takahiro sniffs.
Issei pulls his tie all the way off, rolling it into a ball and stuffing it into his bag. Even in the dim light overhead, there's no mistaking the determination in his eyes.
Takahiro panics. He's not ready for Issei's chest. He's barely ready for Issei in general these days, distance making the heart grow fonder and all that unfair bullshit.
"Why a dragon?" Takahiro asks, in an attempt to distract Issei.
"Dragons are cool."
"Yeah," Takahiro replies evenly. "But you're not."
"Rude." Issei lets out a low laugh, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. He folds his arms on the table. "As if I'm taking my shirt off in an izakaya for such a rude asshole."
"So I don't even get to see the dragon after all." Takahiro doesn't know why he feels so disappointed, when this is exactly what he was aiming for.
"Not in the izakaya," Issei replies, his grin turning sly. "When we go back to my place? Different story, maybe."
"Maybe." Takahiro's mind is already wandering with the possibility, imagining what that could look like. He's staying at Issei's place for the night. Maybe he could convince Issei to let him look then. Maybe he could help Issei take the shirt off. Maybe—
"Maybe we should get out of here," Issei suggests, even though they haven't even ordered any food beyond the snacks Takahiro was picking at while waiting for Issei to arrive.
"Yeah." Takahiro's heart is pounding, and he still can't pull his gaze from the shadow of ink against Issei's skin, almost entirely hidden by the material of his shirt to the point where he probably wouldn't even know it's there if he hadn't seen the edge of it uncovered. "I think we should."
Takahiro sees his first hints of it in the low light of an izakaya. Issei is very much like he was back in high school, droopy eyes, a lazy grin tugging at his lips and his posture so relaxed that Takahiro feels the tension leaving his own body in response.
"Sorry I was late. You even took the train all the way into the city to meet me and I kept you waiting." Issei's voice is gravelly as he drops into the seat opposite Takahiro and this hasn't changed either: not the lateness, not the complete lack of sincerity in his apology, and definitely not the way Takahiro's heart squeezes in his chest at the mere sight of Issei. It feels tighter now, when their meetings are now months apart instead of mere hours apart like they used to be back in high school.
The way he's sitting, elbows resting against the table, tie pulled loose, makes Takahiro's mouth run dry. It's unfair that Issei should have this effect on him, when Takahiro knew him through his least flattering years. Takahiro can still remember the way Issei looked when he was lanky and awkward, his limbs too long for the rest of his body. Never mind that he's filled out now, that he moves with the unhurried grace of somene who is perfectly comfortable in their own skin.
It's then that Takahiro glimpses it, the shadow of something dark against the very edges of Issei's work shirt. He reaches across the table without thought, hooking his fingers over the collar of Issei's button-down and tugging the material down as far as it will go.
Issei goes very still under Takahiro's touch. It takes a moment, and then Takahiro remembers that they aren't kids in a volleyball club room any more, that he's being too familiar, but by that point, he doesn't even care about it any more.
"A tattoo." His voice sounds breathless to his own ears but he barely has any time to dwell on that. "What the fuck. You have a tattoo. I leave you in the big city for half a year and you join the yakuza?"
"This is Sendai," Issei says, brushing Takahiro's hand away from his collar. "And it's just a tattoo. Didn't think you were that old-fashioned."
"You have a tattoo," Takahiro repeats, his mind stuck on this one fact. He wants to tug the collar of Issei's shirt down again to have a better look. "I only saw a bit of it. What is it? God. You got a volleyball tattooed over your heart didn't you?"
"I'm not Oikawa," Issei replies, laughing. He traces a swirl over the left side of his chest and up to his shoulder. "It's a dragon."
"I wanna see."
"I'm not unbuttoning my shirt for you in the middle of an izakaya."
"Coward," Takahiro sniffs.
Issei pulls his tie all the way off, rolling it into a ball and stuffing it into his bag. Even in the dim light overhead, there's no mistaking the determination in his eyes.
Takahiro panics. He's not ready for Issei's chest. He's barely ready for Issei in general these days, distance making the heart grow fonder and all that unfair bullshit.
"Why a dragon?" Takahiro asks, in an attempt to distract Issei.
"Dragons are cool."
"Yeah," Takahiro replies evenly. "But you're not."
"Rude." Issei lets out a low laugh, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. He folds his arms on the table. "As if I'm taking my shirt off in an izakaya for such a rude asshole."
"So I don't even get to see the dragon after all." Takahiro doesn't know why he feels so disappointed, when this is exactly what he was aiming for.
"Not in the izakaya," Issei replies, his grin turning sly. "When we go back to my place? Different story, maybe."
"Maybe." Takahiro's mind is already wandering with the possibility, imagining what that could look like. He's staying at Issei's place for the night. Maybe he could convince Issei to let him look then. Maybe he could help Issei take the shirt off. Maybe—
"Maybe we should get out of here," Issei suggests, even though they haven't even ordered any food beyond the snacks Takahiro was picking at while waiting for Issei to arrive.
"Yeah." Takahiro's heart is pounding, and he still can't pull his gaze from the shadow of ink against Issei's skin, almost entirely hidden by the material of his shirt to the point where he probably wouldn't even know it's there if he hadn't seen the edge of it uncovered. "I think we should."