Archive of Our Own

Iwaizumi Hajime has his first shift on a Wednesday. This in and of itself is unusual, because most new residents start in cycles, on Mondays. But Doctor Iwaizumi, workplace angel, agrees to switch shifts with a co-worker before he’s even officially started.

It’s exactly the kind of cooperation that Suga likes to see, in his hospital.

“You’re still a resident too, you know,” Yaku reminds him as they’re all sitting down for lunch on Friday.

“And plenty of people switch shifts,” Kuroo adds, biting messily into an apple.

“He’s a surgeon,” Misaki says. “He couldn’t switch shifts with you, anyway.”

Clearly, none of them really get the point. Suga doesn’t want someone to switch shifts with him, specifically; he just wants the hospital he works at to fill up with people who’re willing to help each other out, instead of the old, established doctors who seem to care more about bottom lines than whether their younger counterparts are actually about to drop dead on their feet after an eighteen-hour shift.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kuroo says. “We’ll support your bid for Chief of Medicine someday, Doctor Sugawara.”

“Not the point,” Suga huffs.

“Speaking of the devil,” Misaki says, tilting her chin towards the door. All four of them turn to see a head of dark hair peeking into the cafeteria before peeking out again just as quickly.

“Hey!” Suga calls out, because it’s been three days and this is the first he’s seen hide or hair of the famous Doctor Iwaizumi, “You can come eat in here! Don’t be shy.”

A moment later, the doctor reappears, wearing a crumpled set of turquoise scrubs and his laminated ID badge clipped to his waistband. He’s a solidly-built man, his toned arms bare under the cropped sleeves of his scrubs shirt. There’s a formidable furrow in his brow, a heaviness about the way he carries himself even though he’s got a brightly-colored bento tucked under one arm.

“I don’t want to disturb anyone,” he mutters, voice rough with what is probably fatigue. Or maybe that’s just the way his voice sounds. “I’ve got to take a phone call.” He holds up the cell phone clutched in one of his hands.

He looks a bit worse for wear, but then again he’s probably just coming off of a long shift. He’s immaculately clean, in the way surgeons tend to be, but his spiky hair is mussed in places and flat in others, and one leg of his scrubs is riding up over his white sneakers. There’s a tension held in his shoulders, like he’s a children’s wind-up toy that hasn’t been released.

“Oh, be as noisy as you want,” Kuroo says airily. “Seriously, you can’t possibly become the most annoying person in the cafeteria that easily.”

“That honor belongs to Nurse Terushima,” Misaki mutters darkly, rubbing at her temples as though the very thought is giving her a migraine.

“Ah, okay.” Doctor Iwaizumi shifts a little on his feet. “Thanks,” he says, before scuffling off to an empty table a few feet away.

His seat ends up giving Suga the perfect vantage point, if he pretends that he’s looking at the space between Kuroo and Yaku and not directly at Iwaizumi. Not that Suga’s watching him, really. He’s just… curious. The surgical interns love Iwaizumi already, as does his attending. In three days, he’s already earned himself a reputation. But he hasn’t really stopped to talk to anyone, and Suga has become insatiably curious.

And it may or may not be a point of pride that he knows everyone at the hospital, and is on at least small-talk terms with most of them. He’s not about to let Iwaizumi Hajime be the exception.

He’s not actually gunning to become Chief of Medicine, whatever Kuroo claims.

And if Iwaizumi is just shy, well then Suga is the perfect person to bring him into the fold.

For right now, however, he just watches. Iwaizumi unpacks his bento carefully, laying out small plastic dishes of rice, vegetables and tofu and laying the pale green napkin the box had been wrapped in over his lap. Before he starts eating, he taps at his cell phone and balances it between his shoulder and ear.

He’s hunched slightly over the white plastic table, still on edge. But then he murmurs into the phone, “Hey, it’s me.”

Suga can’t hear what’s being said on the other end of the line, but Iwaizumi immediately scowls.

“No,” he says, “I’m in the cafeteria. You just talk, okay?”

Whoever he’s speaking to seems to have no trouble with that arrangement, because while Iwaizumi eats methodologically through his meal, he merely listens to whatever’s being said to him. Occasionally he’ll put in a monosyllabic response or some vaguely affirmative noise, but otherwise he sits in silence for the better part of the hour.

That isn’t so unusual, Suga thinks, shoveling his own food into his mouth on autopilot. He calls Daichi from work all the time, just to hear the sound of his voice. Or, at least he did before Daichi took that international assignment and ruined everything with time zones.

What’s more interesting is the way Iwaizumi begins to relax as he listens to the mostly one-sided conversation. His shoulders gradually come down from where they’d been hunched around his ears and eventually he pushes away his empty bento to lean his elbows against the table, a small smile playing on his lips.

It’s a complete transformation, and Suga can see glimpses of the person Iwaizumi must be when he’s not focused on the severity of the operating room.

“Alright,” Iwaizumi says at length. “I have to get back to work. Talk to you later. —Yeah. You, too.”

He hangs up the call and tucks his phone into his pocket, repacking the bento and wiping the table clean. That earns him more points— no one wants crumbs all over their shared space.

Iwaizumi gets to his feet and walks back towards the door, pausing slightly by Suga’s table.

“It was nice meeting you,” he says, looking just a little bit shy. “I’m Iwaizumi, I just started up in surgery.”

We know, Suga almost says. Instead, he flashes a bright smile. “It’s great to meet you, too. I’m Sugawara, I’m a GP.”

“Misaki Hana, pediatrics.” Misaki gives a small wave.

“Kuroo, psychiatrist,” Kuroo puts in with two-fingered salute.

“I’m an OB/GYN,” Yaku finishes off. “Yaku Morisuke.”

Iwaizumi nods at each of them in turn. “I’ll see you all around, I guess.”

But he smiles just slightly at them before he goes, and Suga considers that a monumental victory.

—

Two weeks later, Suga catches the nurses gossiping.

“No, it happens like twice a week,” Terushima says, sitting on one of the cafeteria tables and holding court with the five other nurses seated around him. “Without fail, someone’s been dropping the guy’s lunch for him down at the front desk!”

“Who’s someone?” one of his cohort asks.

“The receptionist wouldn’t tell me,” Terushima whines. “She’s the same one who won’t give me her number.”

“No one wants to give you their number,” Misaki calls out from across the cafeteria, before flipping the page of her book to show that she’s not interested in making a conversation out of this.

Terushima sticks his tongue out at her, but doesn’t press the point. “Anyway, she got really flushed when she was telling me. ‘Make sure Doctor Iwaizumi eats alright, please!’ Ugh.” Terushima drags a hand over his face. “The guy hasn’t even been here a month and already half the staff is swooning over him.”

“I’m a little jealous,” his friend says. “If he’s already got someone making him lunch, then that’s going to dash a lot of hopes around here.”

“Don’t you start with me,” Terushima says, pouting. “If he’s already taken, that’s better. It’s already hard enough to get a date in this place.”

“Maybe if you didn’t wear those hideous yellow scrubs,” Misaki calls out, shaking her head.

Terushima swirls around to face her. “Are you actually part of this conversation, or not?”

“Stop sitting on the table,” Misaki says. “People need to eat off of that.”

Terushima grumbles under his breath, but obediently drops down into a chair a moment later. Suga takes the moment’s pause to make his escape, going to join Misaki at her table. He chooses not to point out that she’s wearing a yellow blouse the same shade as Terushima’s scrubs under her white lab coat.

“So what do we think,” he asks, pulling out a chair. “Mom? Girlfriend? Wife?”

“Huh?” Misaki blinks, looking up from her book. “Oh, Iwaizumi. Isn’t he a little young to be married?”

“He must be around our age,” Suga says thoughtfully. “Twenty-six isn’t that young.”

“It’s very young,” Misaki says, indignantly. “I am definitely too young to be married, Suga. Don’t try and convince me otherwise.”

“Okay, okay.” Suga spreads his hands. “Girlfriend, then?”

“Or boyfriend,” Misaki guesses.

“If only we had significant others so dedicated.” Suga sighs. “A homemade bento sounds pretty good, right about now.”

Misaki rolls her eyes. “Don’t you start. Sawamura-kun shows up here by surprise all the time, and takes you to lunch. You’ll get no sympathy from me.”

“He’s gone for six weeks,” Suga grumbles.

“You’ll live.”

—

It’s another few days before Suga runs into Iwaizumi again, this time in the locker room. He must have just come in for his shift, because his bag is half-open on the bench in front of the lockers and he’s in the process of tugging off his t-shirt.

Suga is under no delusions about how attractive he is, personally— the fact that he’s been with Daichi for going on eight years has done nothing to quell the flirting he gets from all arenas— but he can’t help but feel a bit inadequate when confronted with a half-dressed Iwaizumi Hajime.

Honestly, he’s a surgeon. How does he even have time to maintain abs, let alone those biceps?

As if he feels Suga’s gaze, Iwaizumi spins around, finally freeing himself of the confines of his t-shirt. He’s wearing a thin chain around his neck, from which a silver ring hangs.

“Oh,” he says, already reaching for his scrubs, “Doctor Sugawara. Hey.”

“You can just call me Suga.” He hopes he’s not blushing. It would be very embarrassing if he was caught blushing in this situation.

Iwaizumi nods, scrubs over his head and ring out of sight. “Sure. Feel free to just call me Iwaizumi.”

“Iwaizumi.” Suga nods. This is good, dropping honorifics and titles is always the right step on the road to friendship. “Is that… are you wearing a wedding ring?”

Iwaizumi blinks at him, then nods. “Uh, yeah. I can’t really wear it on my finger in the OR, so…”

“That’s so romantic!” Suga says, before he can think better of it. “I mean, that you still wear it, at all.”

“It’s not a big deal.” Iwaizumi’s cheeks color, a ruddy hue under his tanned skin. “Could you hand me those?” he says, motioning towards his folded scrub pants.

Suga reaches out for them, tossing them over to Iwaizumi and turning while the other doctor finishes getting dressed. Iwaizumi’s left his cell phone on the bench, and while Suga keeps his gaze away from Iwaizumi the phone lights up with a new message.

Iwa-chan, it reads, Have a good day today! Good luck! <3 <3 <3

Suga chokes. It’s hard to imagine anyone calling the scowling and fierce Doctor Iwaizumi “Iwa-chan.” But marriage probably comes with all sorts of liberties.

Mrs. Iwaizumi must be quite the doting wife, Suga thinks. Delivering hand-made bentos and sending along loving messages.

Iwaizumi is dressed a moment later, gathering up his things and stuffing them into his locker. Seeing that he’s about to leave to start his shift, Sugawara calls out to him.

“Hey, you should come have lunch with all of us the next time our shifts line-up!”

The other doctor turns and looks slightly abashed. “Oh, ah. Sure.” He rubs at the back of his neck. “I’ve been a little busy, settling in and all. But I’d like that.”

—

Suga’s sitting up in bed, dressed only in boxers and a t-shirt, his pale hair damp and flat against his forehead. He shifts his computer this way and that, checking his appearance as it’s reflected back at him through the laptop’s camera. Finally satisfied, he sits back and hits the “call” button.

The connection is fuzzy for a moment before Daichi’s face and torso come into view. He looks as neat and steady as ever, though his dark hair has grown out a little and there are heavy bags under his eyes. When he sees Suga’s face, he smiles.

“Hey,” he says, covering a yawn with the back of one hand. “I miss you.”

Daichi is a supremely honest person. So he starts off every conversation with exactly how he’s feeling, even if those words curl around Suga’s heart and squeeze painfully.

“Hi,” he breathes. “I miss you, too.”

Daichi chuckles, adjusting in his desk chair. “How are you?” He yawns again.

Suga squints again. “What time is it, there?”

“Early,” Daichi grumbles.

“You need to make sure you’re getting enough sleep. And eating enough, and—”

“Suga,” Daichi sighs. “I’m okay. Besides, I’d rather see you for a bit than sleep for another hour.”

Suga bites down on his lower lip, fighting back his smile. “Don’t be sappy.”

“It’s true.” Daichi leans back in his chair, and Suga can see the soft light of morning bleeding into the room from his window. “Want to tell me about your day?”

Suddenly, Suga remembers the most pressing news of the day. “Iwaizumi is married!”

“That new surgeon?” Daichi quirks a brow.

“Yes! He’s married! And his wife brings him lunch and calls him Iwa-chan.”

“That’s… good?”

“Daichi,” Suga says, leaning towards his computer to emphasize his point, “What if she’s amazing? We could be couple friends.”

“Couple friends,” Daichi repeats dubiously.

“You know, friends who are also couples! We could go out to brunch!”

“We have friends who are couples,” Daichi says, looking a bit confused.

“Asahi and Noya don’t count,” Suga says. “We’ve known them for forever, before they were a couple.”

“But now they’re a couple, and they’re our friends,” Daichi says, like he’s having trouble understanding the concept. Or he’s just messing with Suga, to get him to explain himself multiple times.

“Asahi and Noya aren’t brunch friends! They’re… they’re we-roomed-with-one-half-of-this-couple-in-college-and-now-we-know-too-much-about-each-other friends!”

“That’s way too long to be its own category,” Daichi says, stifling a laugh. “And I’m pretty sure Asahi really likes brunch.”

“Fine, we can take Asahi to brunch,” Suga grumbles, clapping a hand to one side of his face. “But we also need brunch friends.”

“Okay, okay.” Daichi’s laughing in earnest, now. “You think Doctor and Mrs. Iwaizumi would be okay with going to brunch with a gay couple?”

“I don’t think Iwaizumi would care,” Sugawara says thoughtfully. “He doesn’t seem like the type.”

“Well then, we can all go to brunch.”

“Don’t ruin it this time,” Suga tells him. “Remember what happened with Kuroo and Kenma?”

Daichi scowls. “How was that my fault?”

“You didn’t even try to get along with Kuroo!”

“He didn’t even try to get along with me,” Daichi says. “Besides, we got over that.”

“And now you’re gym buddies instead of all four of us being brunch friends,” Suga says flatly. “That’s not going to— you are definitely not going to turn Iwaizumi into a gym buddy.”

“Not many people can keep up with me and Kuroo at the gym, so I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“Oh, Iwaizumi could. Believe me.”

—

Twelve hours later, Suga may be regretting spending what could have been Skype sex time talking about Iwaizumi. But he does have a vested interest in putting down roots here, in cultivating a group of people that he and Daichi can be themselves around. For other couples, it all seems so automatic— they date, their friends all date, and then as they get older and get married they become family friends and all raise their children together. Suga’s always known that his life wouldn’t have exactly that trajectory, but he wants to create a community in his own way, despite that.

He’s still half-lost in these thoughts and stifling a yawn when he walks in through the sliding glass doors of the hospital and towards the elevator bank. He vaguely registers the person leaning against the front desk, talking to the receptionist.

The receptionist looks up and waves. “Doctor Sugawara! Good morning!”

The man she’d been speaking to turns at the sound of Suga’s name. The movement catches Suga’s eye, and he’s left staring at the most polished-looking person he’s ever seen, with the possible exception of Doctor Shimizu in oncology.

He’d been leaned over the desk, but as he turns he draws himself up to a full and formidable height. He’s dressed in an impressively expensive charcoal gray suit, a silken lavender button-down beneath it. There’s a heavy watch on his wrist, and when he reaches up with to gently brush his wavy brown hair out of his eyes, Suga spots a vaguely familiar silver ring glinting on his finger.

His eyes are a dark brown, close to the color of his hair. But when he looks Suga up and down they look almost amber, lit with some kind of calculating inner-fire. Suga feels that he’s being assessed. He’s sure this man can see into his mind, or maybe even his soul.

Then, like the flip of a switch, the man grins and turns back to the receptionist. “Apparently, everyone who works at this hospital is a ten,” he says, voice boyish and coy.

The receptionist immediately blushes up to the roots of her hair. “Oh, I would’t say that…”

“I would,” the man says smoothly. “Present company included, of course.”

The receptionist laughs nervously, clearly having no idea what to do with the attention of this too-handsome man.

“Anyway,” he continues, “I need to get back to work. But you can take care of that for me, can’t you?”

“Of course!”

The man flashes her another brilliant smile, but when he turns to leave and his eyes rest on Suga for another moment, they go cold and calculating again. He doesn’t say anything, however, just continues out through the main door. The way he walks emphasizes the perfect tailoring of his slim suit pants, and the impossible length of his legs.

“Wow,” Suga breathes.

“Oh, Doctor Sugawara,” the receptionist calls out again. “You’re headed upstairs, right? Could you take this to Doctor Iwaizumi for me?”

She’s holding up a bento, wrapped up in a pale blue handkerchief printed with small graphics of Godzilla all over it. Suga blinks twice, because he’s been seeing those bentos for a few weeks now.

Suga pivots on his heel, looking back towards the door. But the man is gone, and anyway, he couldn’t possibly be…

He holds out his hand for the bento. “Sure, I’d be happy to deliver it for you.”

—

It’s another week before Iwaizumi joins Suga for lunch, on a day where Yaku, Kuroo, and Misaki are all busy elsewhere. The nurses are watching a soccer match in one corner of the cafeteria, hollering whenever their team scores a goal. Suga shakes his head at them idly, smiling as he turns back to Iwaizumi.

“Your lunch looks perfect, like always,” Suga comments lightly as he watches Iwaizumi unpack his tofu and chopsticks.

Iwaizumi looks bashful, his cheeks slightly pink. “It’s no big deal, really,” he mutters. “Cooking isn’t that hard.”

“Hey, that’s not nice! What would your wife say if she heard you say that about all her hard work?”

Iwaizumi blinks at Suga again, like he’s trying to suss something out. Then he tilts his head back and begins to laugh, hearty and uncontrolled. Suga can see the other doctors and nurses turning to look at them skeptically— he doubts anyone has seen Doctor Iwaizumi laugh like this, before.

He wipes at the corners of his eyes as he gets himself under control. “My wife,” he says pointedly, “does not cook.”

“Huh?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “Honestly, I wouldn’t trust Oikawa within ten meters of a stove. I cook for both of us, but I’ve been so tired lately I keep forgetting mine on the counter. It’s actually a little embarrassing.”

Oikawa. It’s a surname, but Suga supposes that’s not such a strange form of address. Daichi doesn’t call him Koushi all that much, either, and definitely not in front of other people.

“It’s a hard adjustment,” Suga says, when he remembers that he’s in the middle of a conversation. “Residency is kind of the worst.”

Iwaizumi frowns. “Tell me about it. I kept telling Oikawa my schedule would get better, eventually, and honestly it didn’t seem like it could get worse after med school, but here we are.”

“So how does that work? Being so busy and being married, too?” Suga balances his chin against his hand, suddenly very interested.

It takes Iwaizumi a moment to respond, and then he only shrugs.

“It’s fine.” His lips twist a bit. “Right now, it honestly kind of sucks. We’re both so busy that we hardly see each other. I work a lot of overnights and it seems like we’re both only ever awake when the other’s asleep.” He reaches up and fingers the chain hanging under his shirt, the one from which his wedding band hangs.

“I know how that feels,” Suga says with a sigh. “My partner’s been on an overseas assignment for weeks, now. Before it was nice just knowing he was nearby, you know? Even if we couldn’t see each other. But right now he’s a million miles away.”

“He?” Iwaizumi asks, curious rather than judgmental.

“Yeah,” Suga says, pulling out his phone to show Iwaizumi his background— him and Daichi standing by a lake back home in Miyagi, standing with their heads close together and one scarf wrapped around both of their necks and shoulders. “That’s Daichi. He works in finance, and wanted to get some international experience before we got too settled down.”

“Huh,” Iwaizumi says, handing the phone back to Suga a moment after he’s glanced at the picture.

“I think being a doctor and being in a relationship at the same time is always just going to suck,” Suga says, tilting his chin up to the ceiling.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi mutters. “Plus, Oikawa’s terrible at being alone. We’re both better at everything when we’re together, being social and all of that. Alone, Oikawa can get a bit out of hand.”

And you become a bit of a recluse, Suga thinks. He tries to perk up, saying, “At least we won’t be residents forever.”

At that, Iwaizumi grins wolfishly at him. “Oh, yeah, I hear your ten-year plan is to become Chief of Medicine.”

Suga feels his pale cheeks coloring. “You can’t listen to anything Kuroo says, he’s medically addicted to starting shit.”

Iwaizumi laughs, warm and rough. “Oh, yeah? That’s too bad. I think you’d be pretty good at it, from the sound of things.”

He can’t help but laugh a little, in return. “You’re still the newbie, Iwaizumi. Maybe you should wait before you decide things like that.”

Iwaizumi just shrugs. “Going with my first instinct’s never steered me wrong, before.”

—

In an effort to be more accommodating, Suga stays up until one a.m. chatting to Daichi. It’s the kind of intimacy they’ve both needed for a while, but Suga’s still groggy the next morning when he gets to the hospital.

Unfortunately, it turns out to not be the sort of morning when he can be off his game. Because there’s someone waiting for him in the lobby, this time wearing a pale gray suit and mint-colored shirt.

Suga blinks at the same beautiful man he’d seen before, trying to figure out why he’s walking towards him with such purpose.

He pauses a few steps away from Suga, looking at him critically.

“Hmm,” he says, like he’s contemplating the menu at a five-star restaurant. “You are pretty.”

Suga frowns. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a compliment,” the man says airily, voice oscillating between silk and steel. “You could at least say thank you.”

“Thank you,” Suga says, his expression never shifting from one of firm disapproval. “You don’t seem to need medical attention, so why are you always hanging around our hospital?”

The man leans in, and Suga is once again acutely aware of the height difference between them.

“Don’t get any ideas, Sugawara Koushi,” the man says, all pretense of niceness gone from his tone.

“It’s Doctor Sugawara, actually.” Suga lifts his chin, looking the man straight in the eye. “I don’t think we know each other well enough for you to use my given name, since I don’t know who you are.”

The man huffs a little, as though he’s insulted not to be immediately recognized. Maybe he’s some sort of celebrity, the way he’s carrying on.

“I have to get to work,” he says finally, gliding past Suga and towards the doors. As he passes, Suga hears him mutter, “And I thought I’d have to worry about all of the nurses…”

It’s a very strange morning, and one that Suga doesn’t have the mental energy to examine too closely.

—

He passes Iwaizumi in the hallway three times that day, but each time Iwaizumi is rushing off to the OR. At least, that’s what Suga assumes when the other doctor refuses to meet his gaze, or stop to talk. He doesn’t come into the cafeteria to eat the entire time that Suga is there.

That’s normal enough. Every doctor has days when they’re busier than others. So Suga shrugs it off, and continues to act normally when he sees Iwaizumi. A wave across the hallways, a hello when he can spare it.

And Iwaizumi isn’t exactly rude, in response. But he’s pulling back, or not acknowledging Suga at all. And after a week of such treatment, Suga’s beginning to fear like he’s done something wrong, even though he can’t think of what’s changed.

When he catches Iwaizumi in the locker room at the end of the day, Suga stands in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Have I done something wrong?”

Iwaizumi looks nothing short of ashamed as he meets Suga’s eyes. He immediately shakes his head. “No, of course not.”

“So you’re not avoiding me on purpose,” Suga says.

Iwaizumi fidgets. “I’m not.”

“Good,” Suga says firmly, “Because it sort of seems like you no longer want to be my friend. And that would really suck, after how well things’ve been going.”

Honestly, nothing has changed since when they had lunch together, has it? Suga goes back over that conversation in his mind, trying to figure out where he might’ve taken a wrong turn. Nothing new really came up, except… Daichi. Except the fact that Suga’s partner is a man.

“Oh,” Suga says, when Iwaizumi doesn’t respond for a moment. “Are you uncomfortable with the fact that I’m gay?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes go wide, and he immediately waves his hands in front of his face. “Of course not.”

“It’s okay, if that’s true,” Suga continues, despite Iwaizumi’s protests. “I mean, it’s not okay, and I honestly don’t think much about telling people because if they don’t like it that’s their problem, not mine, but I didn’t think you were that sort of person. I hoped you weren’t.”

“I’m not,” Iwaizumi growls, teeth gritted.

“Then what is it?”

“I’m gay,” Iwaizumi says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Suga claps both hands over his mouth. “Does your wife know?”

Iwaizumi is silent for a moment, his shoulders shaking. Maybe he’s had some kind of awakening, over the past few weeks, and now he’s trapped in a marriage he doesn’t actually want. Poor Mrs. Iwaizumi, how will she cope? She seems to love Iwaizumi so much.

Then Suga realizes that Iwaizumi is laughing.

“I don’t have a wife,” he says, wheezing. “I have a husband. You just kind of assumed, and I didn’t know how to bring it up…” He makes a vague gesture in the air to illustrate. “I mean, I just moved to this city, and I like this hospital. I needed time to figure things out, because…”

“Because?” Suga prompts, his mind racing to rearrange the facts he’s collected about Iwaizumi so far.

“Because it was really hard on my husband, when he came out in college,” Iwaizumi says, frowning at the memory. “We’re from a small town, the kind where rumors spread fast and people are unforgiving. And now that we’re in a new place, I had to be sure he wasn’t going to get hurt if we were open about it. Especially since we have to be here for the next few years, at least.”

There’s a pit forming in the base of Suga’s stomach. He usually has such good instincts about things like this, he doesn’t know how he could’ve gotten things so wrong and made so many incorrect assumptions. Maybe he was blinded by the idea of marriage. He knows a good number of gay couples, but none who’ve taken that step. He was well and truly blindsided.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “But you should know, most of the doctors and staff here are good people. I’m sure they wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, or your husband.”

Iwaizumi shakes off Suga’s apologies. “It’s fine. I’m coming to understand that for myself, anyway. We just… Oikawa and I got into this stupid fight a few days ago, and then you got involved, and I wasn’t sure how best to deal with it.”

“I got involved?” Suga blinks.

Iwaizumi runs a hand down his face. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve gotta get home, but I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Sure,” Suga says. But even after Iwaizumi leaves, he’s left with an uncanny feeling.

—

“I think I ruined things with Iwaizumi,” Suga groans, hugging his pillow to his chest as he looks imploringly at his webcam.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Daichi says, appeasing.

“No, it definitely is. I basically called him homophobic because I couldn’t think of any other reason why he wouldn’t want to be my friend.” Suga lets himself fall over onto his side, sighing heavily as his ceiling fan blows his silvery hair around his face.

“Suga,” Daichi says, “I think it was just a misunderstanding. I’m sure he doesn’t hold it against you.”

“I am holding it against me,” Suga says. “I really wanted to be brunch friends with him.”

“You can still be brunch friends,” Daichi says.

“You think so?”

“Sure.” Daichi smirks. “And if not, there’s always Asahi.”

“You’re the worst.”

—

Sugawara walks into the room to see the same well-dressed, intimidating man sitting on his exam table. Except he’s not well-dressed, at the moment, because he’s wearing a loose hospital gown and kicking his feet. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, hands clutching his elbows. All of his swagger and confidence seem to have gone out of him.

“Oikawa Tooru?” Suga asks, glancing down at his file.

It takes perhaps a moment too long before he realizes.

“Yes,” Oikawa begins to say, but then Suga cuts him off entirely.

“You’re Mrs. Iwaizumi?”

Oikawa frowns a bit, and then lifts his chin. “I didn’t change my name,” he says pointedly. “But yes.”

He gains a little of Suga’s respect by not disputing the title. Once again, Suga rearranges the pieces in his head— this is the man who delivers Iwaizumi’s bentos to him when he forgets them at home, the man who sends loving text messages full of emojis and terms of endearment. He’s also the same man who flits with their receptionist and accosts Suga in the lobby of his own hospital.

Suga must spend too long gaping, because Oikawa snaps his fingers to regain his attention. “Aren’t you supposed to be a good doctor? You haven’t even asked me what’s wrong, yet.”

With difficulty, Suga blinks himself back into awareness. Right, he’s a doctor. This is his job. He can ask the less pertinent questions later.

“What seems to be the problem, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa folds his hands in his lap. “I have an old injury that’s been acting up, lately. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I thought I’d have someone look at it.” He speaks airily, idly, but Suga detects a hint of worry in the back of his voice.

He takes another moment to glance through his chart. “That’d be your right knee, is that right?”

Oikawa nods. Suga steps forward and begins his examination, gloved hands gentle against the slightly-inflamed muscle.

“Did anything happen lately that would have aggravated it?”

Oikawa huffs. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I must’ve just strained it a bit. It’s not a big deal.” He says the words as firmly as possible, as though he can will them to be true.

“Hmm.” Suga continues the rest of the appointment in a business-like matter, explaining each step of what he’s doing as he does it. Oikawa doesn’t seem like the sort of patient who needs to be soothed through a check-up, but he does relax slightly in the face of Suga’s tried and true bedside manner.

“I don’t think you have too much to worry about,” Suga says finally, stripping off his gloves so that he can make a note in Oikawa’s chart. “You can have a scan done on site, and I’m going to recommend that just to be sure. But otherwise just make sure that you don’t put too much pressure on it, and you should be just fine.”

Oikawa blinks at Suga, as though trying to figure out his motive. “Are you always this… refreshing?”

Suga laughs. “Was that a compliment, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa frowns pointedly. “No,” he says. “I don’t like you.”

It’s not very often that people don’t like Suga, and he may take it personally. “I don’t really see why.”

Oikawa’s frown deepens. “Because you get to see Iwa-chan every day, and have lunch with him, and you’ve made him feel more at home in this new place than I could. That’s my job.”

Hearing Oikawa use the nickname suddenly makes it real that this is Iwaizumi’s spouse. He’s not at all the doting wife, or husband, that Suga had been imagining. He’s entirely too formidable for that.

“You’re who he calls at lunch sometimes, aren’t you?” Suga asks, thinking back to the first day he met Iwaizumi. “He calls you, but you spend most of the time talking.”

Oikawa’s back to crossing his arms, head tilted as he looks down his nose at Suga. “So?”

“So, I think those calls really help Iwaizumi,” Suga says earnestly. “He always seems happier after he’s spoken to you.”

“Don’t try to flatter me,” Oikawa says, and it’s ridiculous how intimidating he can be when he’s in a papery, revealing hospital gown in a stark exam room.

“I’m not,” Suga responds honestly. “I just think it’s very obvious how much your husband loves you.”

A redness blooms across Oikawa’s high cheekbones. “You really shouldn’t talk about things you don’t understand, Doctor Refreshing,” he chides, voice a sing-song.

Suga shrugs. “Anyway, I’m glad you trust me enough to be your doctor, even if you don’t like me. And I hope your knee feels better very soon.”

Oikawa bites down on his lower lip. “Speaking of— there’s no need for you to tell Iwa-chan about this.”

“Huh?”

“About my knee,” Oikawa specifies, “And this appointment. Actually, as far as he’s concerned we’ve never met. Got it?”

Suga stares a moment longer, trying to assess the situation. The conclusion he comes to has the corners of his lips pulling upward.

“You really care about him, don’t you?” he asks, voice soft. “You don’t want to worry him.”

Oikawa huffs again, hoisting himself off the exam table and turning around to don the suit that’s draped over the extra chair. “Don’t push your luck,” he mutters, annoyed.

“I won’t,” Suga assures him.

He’s not sure Oikawa is brunch friend material, unfortunately.

—

Things settle into a routine, after that. Suga doesn’t see Oikawa in the lobby anymore, and his work picks up to the point where he’s too busy to really notice. He and Daichi talk in snippets and moments, never long enough to have a real conversation, and Suga goes home every night to an empty bed and an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

But Iwaizumi has become a familiar and settled part of the hospital, and he nods to Suga when he sees him in the halls and settles in to have lunch with him and Misaki and the others more and more often.

Just when Suga thinks he’ll be able to survive the last week of Daichi’s overseas assignment, things take a turn for the worse.

He’s walking past one of the doctors’ loungers when Kuroo stops him, pulling him aside.

“Have you talked to Iwaizumi today?” he asks, and for once he isn’t sporting his regular Cheshire grin. Suga sees the face that makes Kuroo such a good psychiatrist, the concern evident in his golden eyes.

“No?”

“He lost a patient in the OR earlier,” Kuroo says, voice carefully neutral. It’s the distance they all have to have from their patients; otherwise they’d never survive. “She was… really young. I don’t think he’s taking it well.”

“I see,” Suga says, feeling entirely helpless. “I’ll see if I can talk to him.”

Kuroo claps Suga on the shoulder before moving on, and Suga sucks in a breath before pushing his way into the lounge.

The room is mostly abandoned, purple plush couches pushed against the wall and an abandoned styrofoam cup of coffee balanced on a stack of magazines on one of the glass coffee tables. Iwaizumi sits in one corner of the room, knees drawn up to his chest and expression unreadable.

Suga carefully sits down across from him. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks quietly.

Iwaizumi shakes his head. His hazel eyes are wide and glassy, like he’s not really seeing anything around him.

“I’m sure there’s nothing more you could have done—”

“Suga,” Iwaizumi says roughly. “I appreciate it. But, please. Don’t.”

Suga nods, rising to his feet. For all that he and Iwaizumi are becoming better friends, they still aren’t at the point where Iwaizumi is comfortable being emotionally vulnerable in front of him. That’s fine— they’ve only known each other for some weeks, after all.

But right now, Iwaizumi needs someone.

Suga leaves the room, going back to his office to glance through patient files. And on one in particular, he finds a cell phone number listed as a primary form of contact.

I’m sure you must be busy, Oikawa-san. But I think you need to head to the hospital. Iwaizumi needs you.
This is Doctor Sugawara, by the way.

Suga sends a message down to the front desk, telling them to send Oikawa upstairs if he ends up coming. Then he goes back to the lounge, sitting a few couches away from Iwaizumi so that he can be there if he’s needed.

Half an hour later, Oikawa rushes into the room. He’s not wearing the jacket than matches his suit pants, and the cuffs of his stark white shirt are stained with ink. He looks around wildly for a moment, then spots Iwaizumi still sitting in the same position. He crosses the room in quick strides, coming to kneel in front of his husband.

“Iwa-chan?” he asks, voice soft. “What happened?”

It takes a moment. But then Iwaizumi looks up, tears caught on his lashes as he blinks and takes in Oikawa’s presence.

“Tooru…?” His voice is heavy with unshed tears.

“Shh,” Oikawa says. “I’m here.”

Iwaizumi pitches forward, and Oikawa catches him in his arms. He shifts so that both he and Iwaizumi are sitting on the couch, Iwaizumi curled up against Oikawa as Oikawa keeps Iwaizumi wrapped in a tight embrace.

“It’s alright,” Oikawa says. “I’m here, I’m here.”

Then, Iwaizumi begins sobbing. The tears shake his entire being, like an earthquake tearing through the crust of the earth. He’s murmuring something into the crook of Oikawa’s neck, but Oikawa just pulls him closer, holds him tighter.

“Don’t say that,” he says sternly. “You’re an amazing doctor, Iwa-chan.”

“…’m not,” Iwaizumi pulls back to say. “I couldn’t— I didn’t—”

“You’re amazing,” Oikawa says fiercely. “And nothing that happened today changes that. I love you so much, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi starts crying, again, and Oikawa holds him patiently. Suga chooses that moment to take his leave, the atmosphere too intimate for him to intrude on it any longer.

But that night, his phone flashes with a new message— Thank you for letting me know, Doctor Refreshing.

—

“Are you free on Friday?” Suga asks, balancing his phone as he walks down the street towards the hospital.

“Yes,” Asahi’s voice replies, “But I’m not sure I want to come to your party.”

“Why’s that?” Suga demands, indignant.

“Because you don’t want to go to brunch with me,” Asahi says mournfully.

“Oh my god,” Suga groans, “that is not what I said.”

“I think it is,” Asahi says, and he could either be teasing or be genuinely upset. It’s hard to tell, with him. “At least, according to Daichi—”

“This is his welcome home party,” Suga growls. “If you’re still on speaking terms with him, stop whining and RSVP.”

Asahi laughs on the other end of the line, warm and familiar. “Of course I’m coming, Suga.”

“Great,” Suga says, “because I’m inviting my new friends, and I want you to meet them, too.”

—

It doesn’t take long for the restaurant to fill up with only minimally-controlled chaos. Misaki is sitting in one corner with a plate of barbecue, Terushima hovering around her until she snaps and orders him to go get her another drink. Suga sees him scurrying off and laughs. Shimizu is mingling with Yaku and Kuroo, her tiny girlfriend attempting to make small talk with Kenma. Noya flutters from table to table, a flash of color and a laugh booming like thunder whoever he goes. Asahi follows along behind him, nursing his drink and growing increasingly relaxed and therefore increasingly social as the night goes on.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Daichi says, coming up behind Suga and wrapping his hands around his waist. He balances his chin against Suga’s shoulder. “I would’ve been fine staying home tonight.”

“Oh, we’re staying home the rest of the weekend,” Suga informs him, turning in the space of Daichi’s arms so that he can rest his hands against Daichi’s broad shoulders. “You’re not allowed to leave the apartment. I’m kidnapping you.”

Daichi grins, a spot of color in his cheeks. “Is it kidnapping if I consent?”

“Mm, I don’t know,” Suga leans in, kissing Daichi’s chin and then his lips, soft and lingering. They’ve kissed maybe two dozen times since Daichi’s flight landed this morning, but Suga’s savoring each and every one.

“Wow. Way to go, Doctor Refreshing!” The voice is lilting and teasing, and Suga would recognize it anywhere. He and Daichi both turn towards the doorway, where Iwaizumi and Oikawa have just entered the room.

It’s the first time Suga’s seen Oikawa in anything other than an impeccable suit or a hospital gown. His jeans are too skinny to be entirely fair, dark-washed and ripped artfully at the knees. He’s wearing a loose white graphic t-shirt and a baggy heather-colored cardigan, and he looks… a little bit nerdy, all told. It’s a good look for him, which is also unfair, but the aesthetic does humanize him, just a bit. As does the way he’s holding tight to Iwaizumi’s hand, tugging him into the room.

Iwaizumi, in a black denim jacket and a t-shirt printed with the name of a band Suga’s never heard of, looks slightly ill at ease as he approaches Daichi and Suga.

“Don’t mind him,” he grumbles, yanking Oikawa closer when he moves towards Misaki’s table. “He has no filter.”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines. “Of course I have a filter. I just think we should appreciate the mysterious handsome boyfriend who does, in fact, exist!”

Suga can’t help but laugh. “It’s good to see you both,” he says. “Thanks for coming. This is Sawamura Daichi.”

“Iwaizumi,” the surgeon introduces himself, extending a hand. Daichi laughs good-naturedly as they shake, but Suga notices the two men assessing each other, hands squeezing tight to judge each other’s strength.

“No new gym buddies!” Suga hisses into Daichi’s ear.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Daichi says to Iwaizumi, before turning to Oikawa. “And you must be…”

“Oikawa Tooru.” Oikawa gives Daichi the same calculating smile he’d worn the first few times Suga had seen him— not entirely genuine, like a mask under which the cogs of his brain are working overtime. Suga wonders if he’s like that with everyone he first meets; it must be thoroughly exhausting.

“Well, come on in,” Suga says, pushing them both towards the buffet and the bar. “Have some drinks, have some food. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

An hour later, Daichi’s been cornered into a one-sided conversation with Terushima and Suga’s sitting at a table with Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Misaki and Asahi. Iwaizumi’s on his third beer, and Oikawa sits a little apart from him, conducting the conversation.

“So what is it you do, exactly?” Yaku asks, squinting at him.

“I’m a lawyer,” Oikawa says, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “My firm actually acts as counsel for your hospital.” He flicks an imaginary piece of lint off of his sleeve, even though he’s wearing a sweater and not an expensive suit jacket.

“Is that why you’re always hovering around?” Suga asks, incredulous.

Oikawa pouts at him, lifting his chin and looking down at the table through thick lashes. “I’m only an associate,” he says dramatically, as though anyone would believe he won’t be running the place in a few years. “I get sent on paper deliveries just like anyone else. But it works out, because then I get to deliver Iwa-chan’s lunch.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Just wait,” he tells the table, “this guy is planning a hostile takeover. He’s going to be running the board by the time we’re all thirty-five.”

“You should make an alliance with Suga,” Yaku says in a stage-whisper to Oikawa. “He can run the medical side, you the legal. A match made in… well, probably not heaven, knowing you two.”

Oikawa laughs, velvety and deep. “What do you say, Doctor Refreshing? Should we form a partnership?”

“Don’t you have to like people you partner with?” Suga asks slyly, lifting one brow.

Oikawa huffs. “Maybe you’re growing on me.”

Suga thinks he can appreciate the hint of challenge lurking in Oikawa’s deep eyes.

Eventually, the guests move on from barbecue and start drinking in earnest. Terushima challenges anyone who’ll hold still for more than a moment, and ends up getting his ass handed to him by Misaki, Shimizu and Yaku. Misaki shakes her head and escorts Terushima to a cab when he starts passing out, saying that she’ll see him safely home. Yaku, Kuroo and Kenma leave soon after, Kuroo leaning most of his weight on Kenma’s shoulders as Kenma glares at him through his long hair.

Now, Shimizu and her girlfriend are having a quiet conversation with Asahi as Noya leans his head in his boyfriend’s lap and Asahi gently combs his fingers through Noya’s wild hair. Suga stands off to one side, observing the table that Iwaizumi and Oikawa haven’t moved from. It’s… an instructive experience.

Suga’s lost track of how many drinks they’ve had, between them. It’s probably more than a few, because right now Oikawa is climbing into Iwaizumi’s lap, and Iwaizumi is doing nothing to stop him. Oikawa drapes his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, movements lithe and graceful for how drunk he must be.

“Hajime,” Oikawa tries to whisper in Iwaizumi’s ear, but his voice carries. “I miss you so much.”

Iwaizumi brings his hands up to Oikawa’s hips, holding him close. “Don’t be stupid,” he slurs. “I’m right here.”

“But I still miss you,” Oikawa insists.

Iwaizumi heaves a long-suffering sigh. Then he kisses Oikawa soundly on the lips. Oikawa gasps slightly before kissing back in earnest. The way they begin to move against each other is bordering on lewd, and Suga looks around for anything else to focus on.

Daichi catches him around the waist again, pulling him close. “That,” he whispers in Suga’s ear, “is who you want to take to brunch.”

Suga giggles. “Leave them alone. They’re busy young professionals with not enough time to spend with the person they love.”

“That is a tragedy,” Daichi says sagely, planting a kiss on the tip of Suga’s nose. “Should we take a cue from them and not waste the time we have?”

Behind them, someone clears their throat. Suga and Daichi turn guiltily to see Asahi looking at them, one eyebrow arched.

“I’m going to… we’re going to…” He shakes his head, laughing. He gestures behind him to where Shimizu and the others are waiting. “The four of us are going to share a cab. Will the rest of you be okay?”

“Go ahead,” Daichi says, pulling away from Suga for a moment to clap Asahi on the back. “We’ll take care of the newlyweds over there.”

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but somehow Daichi manages to get the four of them a cab, and Iwaizumi is lucid enough to tell the driver his address before the four of them pile into the backseat.

Oikawa immediately leans back into Iwaizumi’s side, planting wet kisses all over his husband’s face as Iwaizumi tries to fight his smile.

Suga doesn’t feel embarrassed, because he’s also warm and drunk and wrapped in the arms of someone he loves.

They drop Iwaizumi and Oikawa off at their apartment and then take the cab back to their own home. Suga and Daichi stagger up the stairs, and Suga hangs back while Daichi unlocks the door.

They’d been back earlier in the day, after Daichi had arrived from the airport. But it feels different now, crossing the threshold with the intention of staying.

“Welcome home,” Suga tells him, pressing a kiss to Daichi’s cheek.

“I’m home,” Daichi says, his sometimes-stern features lighting up with a warm, contented smile.

It’s when they’re wrapped up in bed that Daichi takes Suga’s hand and runs his thumb along the top of Suga’s knuckles.

“Your Mr. and Mrs. Iwaizumi were really something,” he chuckles.

“I think they’re basically good people,” Suga says sleepily. “Probably.”

“I think they probably have the right idea of it, though.”

“Hmm?”

“You know. Getting married.”

Suga sits up, blinking at Daichi in the low light. “What?”

Daichi leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. “I’ll ask you properly, soon. But I really want you to marry me, Koushi.”

Suga begins to laugh, giddy, before he pushes Daichi down onto their bed and kisses him in earnest.

—

The following week, Suga is down in the hospital lobby when the doors slide open to reveal Oikawa, dressed to the nines and talking loudly into his cell phone.

“No, Tobio-chan, I am not working through lunch today,” he sighs, rubbing at his temples. “You can handle things for an hour, can’t you? A capable genius like you?”

Whoever’s on the other end of the line gives a clipped response. Oikawa rolls his eyes.

“Then wake up Kunimi-chan and get him to help you,” Oikawa says. “I’m not getting back until one.”

He hangs up soon after, waggling his fingers in Suga’s direction when he spots him. “Interns,” he says, as though that explains everything.

“What are you doing here? Did Iwaizumi forget his lunch, again?”

“Well, actually…” Oikawa says coyly, just as the elevator doors open and Iwaizumi steps out. “Iwa-chan! Are you ready to go to lunch?”

Iwaizumi is still dressed in his scrubs, his denim jacket around his shoulders as he crosses the lobby in quick strides and comes to stand beside Oikawa. “Mm,” he says, “But are you sure you can take the time?”

“Of course,” Oikawa says grandly. “Besides, we can’t let Doctor Refreshing beat us! Sawamura-kun says they get lunch twice a week. Twice a week, Iwa-chan!”

“Alright, alright.” Iwaizumi shakes his head. “Bye, Suga. We’ll be back.”

“And we’ll see you for brunch on Sunday, of course,” Oikawa adds.

Suga waves them off, smiling to himself as he sees Oikawa and Iwaizumi intertwine their fingers as they leave the building.