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In a sick and twisted, highly masochistic way, Hajime liked the taste of his own blood. Hajime liked watching other people’s blood bounce on the ice when his elbow accidentally made jarring contact with their jaw or nose. He liked the smear of someone else’s blood along the hard plastic or glass dividers (depending on the rink) that surrounded the ice when he body checked them against it and dragged them along.
He liked the penalty box and had found comfort in the glory of getting put in timeout for being too good at the game. He liked winning.
He liked taking too long to leave the rink and talking to his friends behind the counter after practice, Issei and Hiro who worked skates and concessions and entry most evenings. They always had some weird shit to say and Hajime didn’t have the nerve to ask them outright if they were an item or just uncomfortably close friends, but he didn’t care much either way.
Hajime liked watching the figure skaters, partially because he thought it was fascinating to see such a stark contrast to his experience on the ice—his violent and challenging gameplay was nothing like the way these athletes danced over it with so much grace and poise that he felt sick and dizzy watching them spin. His practice was usually from 3:30-6:30 on weeknights, the figure skaters came in at 6:30 and some of them stayed until the rink closed at 11 p.m.
Sometimes he and his teammates would sit in the bleachers after and watch them all practice, usually with genuine interest, also out of pure lust because they were testosterone loaded young men with too much aggression and a love of the convenience of beautiful athletes who happened to be right there to stare at. It was like a thing within the rink, dating within the circle. The same way some people stereotype the whole idea of football players and cheerleaders always dating one another, figure skaters and hockey players tend to fall into those patterns too, at least in the local scene.
There were two notably talented skaters, Hitoka and Tooru, that people generally found themselves in awe of. They coupled all the time for competitions, but they competed solo as well—both of them were adamantly working towards an olympic level career and had no time for much else. Hitoka was about 2ft tall. Not really, but it looked that way sometimes when she stood beside Tooru who was a little over 6ft + the added inches of ice skates that he was rarely seen without. Hitoka Yachi was realistically somewhere around 5ft tall and skinny as they come, making her the perfect partner for someone as slender as Tooru Oikawa.
Hitoka was used to being whistled at by hockey players and she’d always bow sweetly and thank them for their support, because she liked twisting their horniness into praise and using it as a form of validation. That, and she was a raging lesbian. It worked out because if Tooru saw a vagina in real life he might pass out, he had no interest in that, he was about as gay as could be. As mentioned, a perfect duo on the ice.
Hajime liked picking on Tooru, not because he found him attractive. Not entirely, at least.
Okay, a lot of it was pulling pigtails, he picked on the skater because he was a caveman and all he knew was hit other men and score goal. So, sure. Tooru made him nervous; that pretty boy with his pretty face and pretty hair and his nose and cheeks that got bright pink from the chill of the giant ice box they spent so much of their day in. Shit. Hajime couldn’t stand it.
“You’re not renting skates, Princess?” He called from the rental counter, interrupting Takahiro’s story to start bullying his favorite figure skater. Tooru looked unamused, his eyes rolled and he dropped his skates on the ground by the bleachers to start stretching without replying to the unneeded remarks from the brute on the hockey team.
“Be nice to him, it’s his first time skating.” Issei teased, as if the brunette wasn’t there every single day for hours. “You’re gonna make him nervous.”
Tooru sucked his teeth and let out a sigh as he touched his toes in a stretch that made Hajime positively feral, despite his poker face.
“Be careful or you’ll be on thin ice.” Makki hid from a pointed glare, Tooru had a hell of a scowl sometimes and honestly he didn’t speak a whole lot, so no one knew how mad he really was on any given day.
He didn’t look mad on the ice, though. He looked focused, but he smiled a lot too. Hajime wouldn’t say it out loud, but he’d thought about the look on Tooru’s face after landing a new trick many times in the shower. Was that sinful? Probably.
“That was a terrible joke, Dearest Makki. I condemn you to the concessions to help that lady who’s been waiting for like 10 minutes.” Issei gestured to the impatient looking visitor and Hiro groaned and made his way over, because that was just part of the job. “And you .” He pointed to Haji, “Get the fuck out of here, you’re not wanted in this place and you are scaring poor Tooru, who’s good side I want to stay on in case he follows in the olympic skater tradition of deleting people kneecaps. I like my knees.”
“I like your knees too!” Hiro almost shouted, his desire to stay in the conversation was evident, as he interrupted the woman's order just to chime in.
Tooru was lacing up his skates when he heard Issei’s backhanded criticism of the only figure skater most people can name. It’s always bugged him that people hear figure skating and immediately think of the Harding situation and the drama, but not the hundreds of amazing skaters who deserve some recognition.
“He couldn’t scare me if he tried.” Tooru snapped, “I don't fear anyone I could outskate or outsmart and I can do both with him.” He’s finally coming back at Hajime, something he’s been able to avoid doing for a while, but the teasing is becoming too regular. “You’re bad at flirting and you’re bad at quick left turns on the ice. Let me know if you need me to teach you how to do either one, because I’m getting secondhand embarrassment from watching both.”
He’s a minx. He’s venomous. He’s right.
Hajime does have a dirty left turn and one day it’s gonna cost him a game. He also doesn’t know how to flirt for the life of him. Tooru pointing that out wasn’t ideal, though.
Hajime’s manly man pride was aching and it was worse that Tooru didn’t even stay to let him prepare his rebuttal. The slender man was on the ice in a flash, flipping Haji off as he skated out to meet Hitoka in the middle and do some warm ups and laps with her.
Should I be mad? I think I'm aroused. Am I sick or is this normal? Hajime was having what the kids might call gay panic over his most recent interaction with his crush.
“He’s kinda hot.” Issei shrugged, “I’m definitely at half mast after that.”
“Prove it.” Makki whispered.
Well, at least it’s not just me.
…
Tooru was exhausted. Some days he just didn’t want to skate until he was already on the ice, like he had to remind himself that this was his passion. He was so passionate that he got burnt out a little easier than he might like, overworking and overextending and expecting so much from himself every day.
He went for a run every morning, he went to the gym midday every day to stretch thoroughly and work on muscle tone and he home schooled in the afternoon, but between every one of those things, he was on the ice. Run, skate, gym, skate, homework, skate, sleep. Somewhere in there he found a spare moment or two to eat something from his strict diet, usually something tasteless and bland.
It would all be worth it when he came home from the Olympics dressed in gold someday.
Truthfully, he didn’t mind Hajime. A little change of pace was nice and being flirted with was always an ego boost, even if the culprit was just another hockey idiot.
He didn’t expect Hajime to pursue him so openly, though. Not so soon after he went out of his way to insult him in front of Issei and Hiro.
It was only the next day when it happened.
“Hey, Princess.” He skated over just as hockey practice ended and Tooru walked in, calling him to the rim of the rink. He was breathing heavily, panting and sweating. Tooru pushed down whatever feelings that image elicited and gave him a questioning look. “My left turn is sloppy, you’re right. Come teach me.”
“I don’t give free lessons.”
“I’ll pay you back. Dinner any place you like, on me.” He had this expression like he was God’s gift to man—Like dinner with him was a precious treat and Tooru should only be so lucky to be invited.
“Don’t ask me on a date like you’re doing me a favor. If you want to take me out that bad, ask like a big boy.” A dozen players who could probably snap Tooru in half like a toothpick shuffled by while the duo bantered, just in time for Hajime to make the taller boy freeze up when he got bold.
“Okay, I want to take you out on a date.” He crossed his arms, “I think you’re kind of a bitch, but you’re hot and you scare me a little. I kinda dig that.”
Tooru accepted. He wasn’t sure if it was because Hajime was inarguably hot or if he was impressed by the boldness. Regardless, all of the sudden Tooru was going to be driven home by Hajime after practice and they’d be getting milkshakes on the way, which Tooru said no one else could know about because his coach would yell at him for fucking with his diet plan.
That meant that Hajime was staying late, hanging around rentals and laughing, shooting Tooru little looks and making him self conscious—God knows why. Tooru hadn’t ever really cared before. He knew people watched him skate, as they should, he was very good at it and it was a sport meant to be seen. He knew the hockey team talked about his ass, too. You don't spend 15 years on the ice and not build up an ass worth talking about, so the fact that people discussed his extensively was no shock to him.
Does Hajime like my ass? I hope he knows I don’t have sex, especially not on a first date.
“Kind of a massive dick move to ask him out, your balls must drag on the floor with how big they are.” Hiro chewed on the straw of his fountain drink from the concession stand, cozied up in a hoodie that donned the name of the rink and a beanie that barely covered his dyed pink hair.
“Yeah, show us your balls.” Issei agreed, absently scrolling on his phone while Hajime watched his date for the evening spin so fast it made him dizzy to watch. He stared at the spandex on Tooru’s thighs and how it strained against the muscles underneath, how the material pulled over his ass and he didn’t even begin to realize how sexy his fluid movements could be.
“He kinda implied he wanted me to.” Hajime defended himself, “He said I should outright ask him on a date if I wanted to, so I did.”
“Thrilling, The Notebook is shaking in the presence of such a romantic tale.” Makki peeks over Issei’s shoulder and makes a gagging noise, exaggerated and humorous. “Is that them?”
Mattsun was using the snapchat cut and paste feature to make a montage of Tooru and Hajime’s blurry, zoomed in faces with hearts all over and the date in the corner, his focus was unbreakable. “I want to be the first one to make them fan material. I’m gonna get this blown up and hang it back here so everyone can see that I am the biggest fan of them both and it’s a sure way to solidify me getting any complimentary tickets to the olympics that the sweet boy chooses to share.”
“Calling Tooru sweet is a crime.” Hiro said.
“Yeah, he’s not sweet. He’s a raging bitch.” Hajime sighed, chin in his palm while he came to terms with the fact that he really liked bitchy pretty boys with enough talent to justify their attitude. Lucky him.
…
“Sloppy.” Tooru shook his head watching Hajime skid to a stop. When the bossy brunette shook his head, waves of chestnut hair bounced in a way that made Haji have to hide a smile. He looked at the almost unfairly big brown eyes with fake understanding. Tooru was probably a great teacher, but Hajime was distracted thinking about his pretty lips. Haji’s got chapped so fast in the cold, he had to reapply vaseline between each game, but they still stung by the end, but Tooru’s were plump and pink and they looked soft and moisturized all the time. “—So apply that and try again.”
Shit… I was not listening to any of that. Hajime shifted nervously on the ice.
“Could you demonstrate?” He gestures to the nearly empty rink. It’s 10:30, people are leaving, Yachi just went home, but Tooru said they wouldn’t leave until Haji had a somewhat coherent left turn.
“Iwaizumi, I do have my own routine to polish and I’m helping you because I’m a kind person. Don’t zone out when I speak to you.” Tooru skated a few yards away, like he was born on the ice and skating was in his blood. He sped up, skating right at the hockey player, body angled forward, then hooked to the left at the last second and stopped himself beside Hajime. “Alright? Do that.”
Tooru acted like it's easy. He made it look easy.
When Hajime tried a turn that quick, he usually tripped over his skates and hit the ice with a thud.
“We want to go home!” Issei shouted from the booth and that’s the only reason Tooru doesn’t tell Hajime to run that practice a dozen more times, until he ‘sucks less’ in his own words.
“Set us free!” Hiro followed Issei’s lead while he shut down the concessions and started turning lights off.
Tooru skated to the rim and stared at the clock by the rentals and then scowled, “The rink is open for another 15 minutes.” His hands always seem to find their way to his waist, resting low on it like the popular girl in some 90’s teen movie. “But he’s not gonna get it tonight, he’s distracted.” The prissy figure skater stepped over the threshold onto the constantly soaked carpet and sat on the bleachers to undo his skates and slip on his notably decked out crocs. Hajime bit his tongue, wanting to make a comment, but he didn’t know if Tooru would take it personally or not.
Hajime was worn out. He wasn’t used to staying so late, but mostly he wasn’t used to getting out of his gear and relaxing for a while, just to get pulled back onto the ice and criticized. He didn’t mind too much, because getting shouted at by Tooru was like a treat.
“Okay, Princess.” He made good use of the nickname he’d so graciously assigned to Tooru, “What do you say we let these sickos clock out a few minutes early and I take you to get a milkshake.”
Tooru wiped his skates down with a rag from his duffel and pulled a sweater over his head, fluffing up his hair in the process… he just looked cute in such an effortless way. Hajime beamed at him and stuffed the remainder of his gear into his bag, grabbing his hockey stick, holding it like a staff.
“I don’t want a milkshake, but you can drive me home.” Tooru’s words were short and sure and Haji’s head was spinning. Only a few hours ago the pretty young man had agreed to desserts together and a date on their next free day. Now he was seemingly annoyed.
Hajime used to claim he didn’t date women as much because he couldn’t stand the drama and passive aggressiveness. He might be a bisexual man, but he’d only dated men. He found women attractive, but one passive it’s fine sent him spiraling and questioning, so he tended to lean towards men, usually stoic men with clear communication.
Tooru was not stoic or clear. He was hot enough to make up for it, though.
Hajime didn’t argue. He wasn’t entitled to anything, even if Tooru had agreed to dessert already.
“That’s alright, mind if I swing by and get one for myself on the way?” How else can I elongate my time alone with Tooru? I want to kiss him, but he seems like the type to slap me for trying it out of nowhere. It doesn’t feel romantic to discuss it first, but consent is important. What if he’s the type to read all those romance stories and he’s playing hard to get, but he wants some stubborn asshole to break through his shell? I could fuck with that.
That was, indeed, exactly what Tooru wanted. He did read himself to sleep, stories of stubborn and bitchy protagonists being wooed by men who were brave enough to pursue them without fear or bashfulness. Maybe it was Hajime’s blunt admission of desire to date Tooru that got him to agree to ride home together in the first place.
“Fine with me.” Tooru grabbed his things and walked past the only two employees left in the rink, without another word. He was tense.
Hajime shot his friends an anxious look and they both gave him wholly unconvincing thumbs up.
I’m not ready.
“Wait up.” He chased after the lean figure shouldering the door to the rink open and stepping into the streetlight washed night. Tooru even looked nice in the warm light of the parking lot, Hajime felt a slight tug at the corners of his mouth just knowing Tooru was letting him take him home.
Tooru walked right up to his truck, like he knew which one it was between the 2 beat up cars in the lot. Hajime wanted to ask how Tooru knew which car was his, but it wasn’t too hard to guess that between Haji and the two idiots locking up inside, he was the one who’d drive a shitty truck.
“Can you unlock it?” Tooru’s fingers danced over the handle to the passenger side, his face bored and blank. “My bag is heavy.”
“I would have carried it for ya, Pri—”
“Do you call me Princess to be condescending or is it a cute thing?” Tooru interjects, stepping back so that the broad shouldered athlete can manually unlock the car and open the door for him. “Because if you’re being a dick, we can end this here.” And Hajime couldn’t help but feel that familiar wave of arousal. Tooru knew exactly what he wanted, what he deserved, what he was worth… that was sexy.
“I call you Princess because you’re pretty and bossy like you’re used to ordering people around.” Haji paused mid-explanation and held a hand out to assist Tooru into the passenger side. He was pleasantly surprised to feel a small, soft hand slip into his own and allow itself to be guided up and into the cabin of the vehicle. After a quick jog around the front, Hajime hopped into the adjacent seat, behind the wheel.”I like it, by the way. Your bossiness.”
Tooru lowered his eyes and those long, thick lashes came out in full force to kick the wind out of his chauffeur. Hajime almost wondered if he wore makeup, but the color of the lashes matched his hair and eyebrows so well, there was no way.
“M’not into car hookups.” Tooru mumbled and his simple comment made the air triple in thickness. “I don’t put out or whatever, especially not on a first date.” And Hajime couldn’t tell if Tooru meant he was a virgin or just the type of person who wanted to know his partners before betting intimate, but he wouldn’t pry, not yet.
“I didn’t expect anything like that. Just wanted to buy you a milkshake and get to know you a little.” Haji fiddled with the bluetooth and then turned the volume down low so his music selection played softly beneath their conversation. “I never once assumed you’d be the type to do anything with anyone unless satin sheets were involved.”
Tooru couldn’t hide the small laugh that the comment pulled from him, although it was short and measured. He laughed and Hajime felt a surge of confidence.
“Anyways… Milkshake for me, unless you change your mind. I’m buying and it is a limited time offer. I’ll only be paying every time you want me to, so don’t miss out.” He knew from the moment he made the pretty boy laugh that he was utterly fucked. He put the car in drive and shuttled them towards the little mom and pop ice cream shop a mile or so from the rink.
Tooru was quiet for the first half of the drive, the constant flash of a streetlight’s warm glow running over his skin as they drove past them again and again along the road, there was a sense of hope in the way he just calmly watched the asphalt disappear behind them. Symbolic of something like progress, but who’s to say?
“What got you into skating?” Hajime ventured.
“The last thing I want to talk about with the guy I’ve only ever seen on the ice for the past several years is ice skating.” Tooru sighed, pulling out his phone and shooting a text to his mother to say he was going to be home later than usual. She wouldn’t care, Tooru never got into trouble. “Do you do anything besides beat the shit out of people and hit pucks into nets?”
Another rush of excitement from the forwardness of his companion, Hajime repressed a chuckle as he pulled into the shop’s parking lot.
“Yeah, I have a bunch of friends and we hang out and I take some online college courses and I help my mom out with the house and sometimes I watch t.v. if I have time.” He feels incredibly boring, he feels like Tooru might be one of those people who reads classic novels and paints watercolors in his free time. “What about you?”
“Me? I like classic literature and painting… watercolor mostly.”
Bingo.
It wasn’t even that Tooru was predictable, he was just rounded out. Tooru seemed like he’d been handcrafted and set on the ice in pretty little white skates as a baby and simply been chiseled into this ideal person. Of course he enjoyed high class activities; he was a princess.
“I see. You’re so incredibly out of my league.” Hajime removed the key from the ignition and said “Don’t move.” As he hopped out of the car and came around to open the passenger side door and hold his hand out for Tooru again. It was nice, holding that petite hand in his own calloused one.
“You think so? That I’m out of your league, I mean.”
“Without a doubt.”
“You might be right.”
“Ouch.” Hajime clutched his chest comically, basking in the sting of the confidence exuding from his date. “Even so, I’d hate for you to get lost. Can I hold your hand?”
The spot that they stood in was less than 10 feet from the almost completely empty shop, and yet the boldness made Tooru’s stomach flutter with excitement. Hajime was normally a crude guy, Tooru had—on more than one occasion—heard him in a group of other hockey players making jokes that Tooru would be grounded for repeating. Now he was being a gentleman and the atmosphere was nice and Tooru thought that just maybe, in a perfect world, he could do this more often.
“We can hold hands. So I won't get lost.”
…
“Why won’t you let me buy you dessert?” Hajime took a bite of the massive cookies and cream milkshake he’d ordered, the light crunch of the cookies within the ice cream made him wish he could see how Tooru might enjoy a similar treat.
His date just exhaled through his cute nose and eyed the milkshake for a moment.
“It’s stupid.”
“Tell me, I’m not gonna be weird. Are you lactose intolerant?”
“No, that’s a stupid assumption.”
“Okay, then what?”
“My thighs.” He pursed his lips, “I was on the ice when I showed you the left turn and stop and I felt them... jiggle.” He looked ashamed. Tooru looked utterly defeated just talking about it, his eyes hooded with embarrassment and frustration. It mattered a lot to him.
“I see.” Hajime paused his eating to look right at Tooru, who was easily the most beautiful person he knew. The prettiest human being he’d ever seen. He knew it, but Tooru didn’t and he refused to stand by and let anyone slander his crush, not even the man himself. “I think your body is bangin’.”
“Bangin’?” Tooru repeated with a thoroughly unimpressed expression.
“Yeah, like… You get discussed often.” That sounds creepy. “I mean—The team, how do I say this? Uh… The team is made up of a lot of guys who have a lot of, uh, testosterone. Anyway, it’s not a shock, I'm sure, to know that we’re all horny.” I’m bad at this. “And I know some guys who claim to be 100% straight that still stare at your ass while you skate.”
Oikawa looked away, his face bright red and burning with a blood rush to his cheeks. He didn’t know Hajime would be so open, so honest about his opinions on Tooru’s body.
“That’s weird.”
“Do you not believe it’s worth looking at?”
“That’s an inappropriate question.”
“I’m asking you if you think you’re attractive enough to be stared at, that’s all.”
Tooru rolled his eyes so hard that Hajime wondered what kind of brat was hiding beneath that pretty boy, perfect image he had. He’d only seen glimpses, but he’d happily observe more, study him like an oddity and report back to his insanely fascinated and helplessly romantic brain. “I believe you were asking me if my ass is worth staring at, actually.”
“Do you want to know what I think?” Haji leans in, one arm on the table, one resting on the back of the booth, not bothering to gather a response. “I think you’re just about perfect and I feel stupid for waiting this long to make a move. If I’d known you’d agree to go out with me, I would have asked much sooner.” He didn’t want to explicitly say why he was so attracted, but Tooru’s ass and thighs were on the list of reasons.
“Just about?”
“You’re really obsessed with being flawless, huh?”
“Comes with the sport.” Tooru could remember times when his coach would smack the back of his legs and if his thighs jiggled, his diet would be modified and he’d be skating laps for an hour at a time. Perfection was simply expected.
Hajime would never understand it, but he’d seen it in the contrast between the way his teammates treated his sport like a friend, versus the way the figure skaters treated their sport like an obstacle to overcome.
“My opinion is uninformed and probably holds no value.” He took another bite, resuming his important work of eating the delicious milkshake before him, “but I think this ice cream is worth a little extra exercise.” He hoped he wasn’t coming off as insensitive, but he’d love to see Tooru live a little. “And if it means anything, I like thick thighs.”
Tooru watched him take a few more bites before he finally leaned in and opened his mouth, waiting for a spoonful.
The image? Erotic. Hajime had to think of something sad to calm himself down as he eagerly scooped up a spoonful of milkshake and fed it to the mouth he wanted to know so much better. That smartass mouth, pretty lips, straight teeth, even his tongue was a soft, clean pink. Hajime almost bit his fist to keep calm.
“How is it?”
“Sugar should be a controlled substance.” Tooru groaned, like he was getting a hit of something far more taboo, “Can… I have another bite?”
Shit. Did Haji have a kink for this? Was he into feeding Tooru, or was it just nice to be able to see him taking care of himself and letting loose? Maybe both.
And it was about 6 spoonfuls in that the milkshake was gone and Tooru was fidgety with a sugar high. He wasn’t used to that much at once and his body metabolized it funny, but he tried not to be weird or over-excited. He checked his phone and just saw a thumbs up from his mom.
“I don’t want to go home yet.” His hand sat on the old tabletop and twitched with excitement, energy coursing through him. “Kinda wanna skate again…” It was the best way to let out all the energy he felt… Well, the best way that didn’t involve losing a few layers of clothing. He wouldn’t, not this early on.
“You want to skate? You just skated for like four straight hours, Tooru.” He chuckled, like he was looking at a madman with no limits and no boundaries for how hard he’d push himself. It only took a few seconds of actually looking into the wide, sugar-crazed eyes across the table to realize that he was serious. “Yeah?”
Tooru nodded, eager and excitable like a version of himself that Haji hadn’t ever seen before. How could he say no?
“Alright, Princess.” He whipped his phone out and decided to call in a favor. He watched Tooru tap away on his own phone while he listened to the line ring twice, then three times and finally pick up.
“Thought you were on a date.” Hiro said, an obvious grin on his face as he spoke, noticeable even without having to see him.
“I am. Why are you answering Issei’s phone?”
“Because we live together.” He hummed, “And share a bank account. And a marriage certificate. Did you not know?”
Hajime did not know, in fact no one did, because they wore no rings and acted like two guys who just happened to work at the same place and get along really well.
“Holy shit? We will come back to this and discuss later. I need a favor.”
“Issei said we’ll do anything you want for fifty dollars or a video of Tooru reenacting the bend and snap from Legally Blond, which I’m veto-ing because my ass doesn’t compare and I refuse to compete with that. So fifty bucks, tell us what you need.”
…
“We’re gonna make out in the back room behind the skates until you two are done… skating on the ice.” Issei emphasized the word skating, because he didn’t believe there was any way on God’s green earth that they weren’t trying to have some kinky icy fuck session—who was he to judge, though? Not like he and Hiro hadn’t done it a few times.
The door opened with a clunk! when Issei turned the key and pushed it. He flipped the lights on and shot Hajime a knowing look, like he was proud of him for scoring so fast with Tooru.
“Thanks again.” He had already transferred them the money, for a broke college student, he sure was ready to drop money for a pretty boy who just wanted to skate out his wiggles at midnight. “We won’t be long.”
“Oh, give yourself some credit, Haji. Think of someone ugly and you’ll last longer, or use a condom to lessen the sensitivity. Safety first, right?” Hiro clasped Haji’s shoulder and teased, despite Hajime explaining that they were genuinely only there to skate a handful of times already.
Tooru might have cared more if he wasn’t already excitedly lacing up his skates and grinning like an idiot over the cute hockey player who bribed the rink employees to let him skate off the clock. He was warming up to Hajime quickly. Something about him drew Tooru in.
“Can we have lights and music?” Oikawa asked as he stood up, his height exaggerated by the skates, he looked like a supermodel—all legs, slender and poised. Hajime wanted to climb him like a tree, but for now he’d just look to the apparently married couple for verification that the brunette was getting whatever he wanted.
“Needy.” Issei shook his head, but within thirty seconds the wish was granted and music and fun lights programmed to match up with the same handful of songs that always boomed through the rink began to play, making Tooru smile a big, free smile.
Tooru liked Hajime. He didn’t know if he always had, but he’d never hated the man. As far as douchey hockey players went, Haji fit right in—he was cocky and violent and oozed masculinity in ways that Tooru never could, even if he turned his life around right now and dedicated every day to muscle building and watching Quentin Tarantino movies on loop. No, Hajime was really the antithesis of Tooru, but opposites attract.
The door to the back office slammed with a finality and solitude that rang through the two men who were just barely stepping onto the ice.
It felt so otherworldly to be in a place they both frequented on a daily basis, but now they were here at a forbidden time with no rules, no guidelines. Tooru glided into the middle of the rink, under the disco ball that had hung there since he was a child, hardly used, but worn out even so. He looked up, his head falling all the way back so that Hajime could see the tensing and pulling of every muscle that lined the side of his neck and angular jaw.
I want to bite him.
Not appropriate.
“What would you be doing if you weren’t a hockey jock?” Tooru asks, his head still angled upwards in a way that tempted Hajime.
He paused to digest the question. Iwaizumi had played hockey since he was 6. His parents put him into a sport where he could channel all his aggression and he took to it like a fish to water and excelled. All he’d ever known was the ice.
“I have no clue.” He eyed the hand he’d held already tonight, wondering if Tooru’s permission to intertwine their fingers extended to this portion of the evening. “What would you be doing?”
Tooru looked like he'd been knocked out of a trance, his face snapped down and turned to meet his date.
His eyes are really green. Tooru had never noticed before, and his eyelashes are so dark.
“I would be a dancer, I think.” He looked down at the ice and chipped away at it lightly with the tip of his skate. “I think it would be amazing to be able to work with the floor of the performance space. I can never roll around on the ice, I have to be on my feet.”
It’s a little bit funny, Hajime had never felt that way—maybe because he had rolled around on the ice. He’d been slammed down into the ground and tumbled about against the frozen floor many times, but Tooru wasn’t really allowed to do that.
“I like watching people dance, though. I think someday I’d like to get into it. I have to get through two Olympic cycles and win gold at least once. Maybe after that.” He’s talking to the whole room, not just Hajime. He’s telling himself.
He jetted off suddenly and began skating laps around the rink, throwing tricks out left and right. He landed everything so flawlessly, effortlessly. Hajime could watch for hours, he had before.
Hajime felt so smitten. He’s already whipped for Tooru, who is so far out of his league he is afraid he’s going to wake up any second and realize that he was having some beautiful dream where he got to spoon feed dessert to his crush and then watch him skate around the rink and hum along to the music they’d both heard on loop time and time again. He wouldn’t take it for granted and he wouldn’t rest until he could call Tooru his.
No rush, though. They had all the time in the world.
“Tooru.” He called out to the spinning angel, illuminated by colored lights and the reflected shine of an old disco ball. “What if you danced here? With me?” He held his hand out, waiting for it to be filled by that smaller hand that was growing more familiar by the hour. “We can dance here. Maybe we can get off the ice and dance on the carpet out there, too.” What he wouldn’t give to see Tooru smile so freely again and again.
Tooru didn’t stop moving when Hajime called to him, listening as he threw out jumps and spins, but the offer settled deep in his stomach and then burst into a thousand butterflies. He changed directions, speeding towards the handsome guy in the center of the rink and tried for a quick left turn and a stop.
Tried.
Truthfully, if Hajime wasn’t so fast, Tooru would probably have a sprained wrist, or at least a mild concussion. Hajime was fast, though. He caught Tooru and lifted him right off the ice before he could hit it, hugging him close and stabilizing himself for a few seconds. There was some notable tension in the way they clung to one another, Tooru buried his face in Hajime’s shoulder, hiding there in shame for fucking up the very move he’d criticized the hockey player for.
“Your quick left needs some work, Princess.” He straightened them both up and rested his hands on Tooru’s waist, “Let me know if you need me to teach you how to do one.” He began to sway, fighting a satisfied smile off of his face, enjoying the karmic nature of their situation.
Enjoying the way Tooru feels pressed against him.
They danced. They started out rocking back and forth to high energy, radio safe pop music. Then it swapped to something slower, something hand picked by the men in the back room, no doubt.
It was sickening, to say the least. The longing gazes into one another's eyes, the quick glances at wanting lips, the way Hajime’s hands had travelled lower and lower in tiny increments until he was just cupping Tooru’s ass. Tooru kind of liked it, he pretended not to notice the small squeezes and pats.
“I like you, is that too bold to say?” Hajime asked.
“No, not too bold.” Tooru shakes his head. “A little stupid.”
“Stupid?”
“I just think you might be happier with someone who isn’t chasing after a nearly impossible goal. I don’t think I’d be a very fun partner. I’m going to the Olympics and I won’t stop until I do and I think you’d be sad knowing I won’t be able to do normal things that two people in a relationship would. I don’t have time to be a good boyfriend.”
“What if I want an Olympian boyfriend?”
“I don’t think you know what that entails.” Tooru looked so happy and yet his eyes were glazed over with a million maybe’s.
“I think I’d be willing to find out.” Hajime whispered, his cheek pressed against Tooru’s, mouth lingering beside the taller boy’s ear. “I think you might be surprised how patient and supportive I can be.”
They could have stayed like that forever, pressed close in the comfort of the empty warehouse-like rink with shitty music echoing around them and making them both feel infinite and whole, despite the insurmountable expectations they both faced in their daily lives.
Tooru had to think about the offer. It was obviously nothing immediate, he wouldn’t leave here tonight with a boyfriend or start wearing Hajime’s old jerseys to his hockey games right away, but the pursuit of something more was intimidating and intriguing.
“I’m a bitch.”
“I am fully aware of that, Princess.”
“The novelty of it wears off.” Tooru was accustomed to men who found his attitude attractive and then realized it wasn’t an act, he really was a cunt.
“Honestly, Tooru? I’m not above biting back if it gets bad.”
He had an answer for every dilemma Tooru put forth.
“I don’t have sex—”
“You mentioned that and I’m still here.” Hajime couldn’t stop himself from placing his palm on Tooru’s cheek and running his thumb over the pink nose, he really couldn’t. “I’m not a complete animal.” Tooru’s eyes finally met his and there was a definitive breaking of walls behind them, like Hajime had just torn through the barrier. “I like you a lot and I would love to openly pursue you like a fucking simp.”
“Fine.” Tooru shrugged, but the excitement on his face was noticeable from a mile away. “Hajime?”
“Pretty?” He said it like it was a name and Tooru somehow got redder, blinking and looking away for a moment, he was giving into the idea that he could have something like he read about. He wanted so badly to be swept off his feet and he felt like Hajime would do that if he let him.
“You’re allowed to kiss me, just… don’t be too rough.”
Shock didn’t even begin to describe what the shorter man felt. He was pretty sure that a camera crew would pop out any second and start laughing at him for getting pranked, maybe his mom would throw his door open and wake him up from the dream, some of his teammates would pop out of the bleachers and hand Tooru a stack of money for winning a bet.
A moment passed, though, and none of that happened.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you.” Every ounce of self control he had was being put to the test as he restrained himself from shoving his tongue right into Tooru’s mouth.
“Yes, I’d like to kiss you here. It’s kind of romantic, dancing on the ice with you.”
Go, go, fucking GO!
Hajime slipped one hand behind Tooru’s head for support, fingers tangling into the loose brown curls and gripping, not tight enough to hurt him, but firm enough to guide him. He closed the distance between their faces and stopped just when their lips brushed, letting the electricity bolt through them, white hot and needy.
Tooru was the one to press forward, his desperation evident as he crashed his mouth into Hajime’s, his lack of experience showing in the way he hardly opened his lips. Hajime couldn’t care less about how sloppy or inexperienced Tooru was, they were kissing and it felt amazing. Haji guided Tooru at first, pushing his tongue between the lips he’d spent, well, years gazing at—but especially closely tonight, he’d watched and longed for them and now he had them against his.
Tooru tugged at Hajime’s bottom lip with his teeth, little breathless whines escaping him that Hajime would undoubtedly etch into his brain and think about for weeks and months to come, wondering how he could hear more, louder, harder.
Tooru’s hands tangled themselves in Haji’s short hair and pressed him closer, needy and unashamed.
Abort this mission before you actually cum in your pants, Hajime.
He didn’t want to. He was going insane, Tooru was effortlessly ethereal and wanted him, shit—his whole body was begging for Hajime, the way it rolled against him and pulled him in with some kind of witchcraft, some spell Haji would never break.
You’re seconds from actually gooping your goddamn jeans.
He pulled back, thinking of the time he saw his friend hurl at the local fair and then fall into it, because he was too drunk to walk. It was gross enough to calm down his insane boner a little.
“Sorry—shit, Sorry… I was getting over-excited, I had to stop.” He knew his erection was very visible, but so was Tooru’s. They were even. No shame in being turned on by one another, right? “I really should take you home. You need a good night's rest if you’re gonna be an Olympian.”
Tooru paused, his brain alarms going off at the multiple boxes this man just checked in his mind.
Mindful of not rushing into anything sexual, based on Tooru’s comfort.
Considerate of his passions, he wants to see Tooru succeed.
A really good kisser.
“Yeah, that’s probably best. Let’s go.” He grabs Hajime’s arm and wraps his own around it, skating alongside him to the edge of the rink. They made eyes at one another while removing their skates, feeling full of hope and anticipation for tomorrow and the next day and the next.
“You better get some solid sleep, Pretty. You have a lot of work to do on your sharp left tomorrow.” Haji teased, picking up both his and Tooru’s duffle bags, something he’d make a habit of doing as time went on.
“Says you. ” Tooru stuck his tongue out, but his eyes asked to be praised.
“I care a lot about seeing you bring home gold, so I won’t be easy on you.” He walks behind the rental counter and knocks on the office door to shout “We’re leaving!” to which he hears a moaned FINE! Which he chose not to investigate further.
Hajime threw an arm over Tooru’s shoulder and walked them both towards the rink’s exit.
“Next date, I’ll take you dancing for real.”
…
“Run it again!” Hajime called from the railing, earning an exhausted glare from his boyfriend who had just run the routine a dozen times, or maybe it only felt that way. “You’re getting sloppy and I can’t take you to dinner until you feel like you did it right, you’re gonna chew my head off for letting you do less than perfect.”
Tooru skated to the rim where Haji was watching and kept his notably bitchy expression as he drew closer. Hajime had just finished Hockey practice less than an hour ago and he was right back on the clock helping Tooru as soon as it ended. He was so supportive Tooru sometimes wondered what kind of perfect partner factory he was made in.
“You’re bossy.” The figure skater hissed.
“You like it that way.” The Hockey player replied.
“Brute.”
“Priss.”
“You’re kinda hot.”
“Your ass looks incredible.”
“Fuck me in your truck again.”
“Clean up the routine and I will.”
“Fine.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” Tooru leaned in and kissed Hajime softly, much more practiced than that first time, but just as electric.
Just as exciting as that first night.
And it only took that little bit of push to get Tooru to put his all into the routine and execute it flawlessly. When they left , they said goodbye to Issei and Hiro. The huge poster of badly photoshopped and cut and pasted pictures of Haji and Tooru still hung on the rental room wall for everyone to see. It had been there since the morning after they kissed. When Hajime asked how the hell they got it printed between midnight and 7 am when the rink opened he was told to “ focus on himself and stop hating on local artists ” by Issei.
“Olympics in 14 months.” Hiro called out, as if they all weren’t counting down the days until they saw Tooru compete.
“14 months!” The couple replied in unison. “And Haji has a game tomorrow!” Tooru added, kissing his boyfriend on the cheek, “He’s gonna murder them and I’m going to eat him up after.”
“Cannibalism is a private thing,” Hiro shook his head, “But we support it.”
This was the way things should be, perfect in a beautifully imperfect way. Tooru and Hajime couldn’t help but think back to that first night together a little too often, glad they acted on impulse.
Life took a sharp left turn and they rolled with it, even if sharp lefts weren’t always their best moves, they always caught each other.