When Ushijima happens upon Oikawa Tooru as he is walking home from the restaurant, he almost doesn’t recognize him - in his jeans, his shirt, the lines of his face sharper and more distinct now that they are both more than a decade out of high school.
He almost doesn’t recognize him, but of course he does. Oikawa has stepped off to the side and is sending a text, his eyes fixed on his screen.
Ushijima is momentarily stymied. What should he do? Because, while age hasn’t dulled his desire where Oikawa Tooru is concerned, it has chipped away at what had turned out to be his baseless confidence in that regard.
More importantly, the stakes feel much different than they did when he was 18 and he had all the time in the world.
He’s not willing to wait another ten years before chance throws Oikawa so casually in his path, and he most definitely doesn’t want to screw this one up.
Oikawa’s whips around, startled.
Then his eyes narrow, exactly as they used to, and he says, in the same biting tone he always used when addressing Ushijima, “Ushiwaka-chan.”
Ushijima starts to respond with his usual, “Don’t call me that - “ and then stops, giving himself a slight shake.
He’s different now. He doesn’t have to fall for Oikawa’s tricks. He has a loftier goal here than merely winning a minor skirmish.
Instead, using a line he has worked to cultivate in both his personal and professional lives, he says, “It’s nice to see you.”
He’s used it enough that it flows out relatively smoothly, although it feels strange to be saying it to Oikawa.
Oikawa, apparently, also finds it strange. He looks briefly taken aback, then laughs a surprisingly merry laugh. “Is it?”
The laugh gives Ushijima a little spark of pleasure, and he is smiling when he responds, truthfully, “It’s always delightful to see you.”
But this, it seems, is too much. Oikawa’s face tightens and he says, bluntly, “What do you want?”
Ushijima raises an eyebrow in question.
“You’re acting weird. What’s up?” Oikawa is looking wary now, like Ushijima has opened his jacket to reveal an arsenal of unexpected and potentially dangerous weapons.
Ushijima steps casually forward. He still has at least two inches on Oikawa, and as he moves closer, Oikawa has to lift his chin up to hold his gaze.
Ushijima finds that he likes this very much, Oikawa having to look up at him, and to be tracking him so intently. His next words slide out easily, of their own accord.
“Why so suspicious, Oikawa? I am merely commenting on the unexpected pleasure of running into you.”
As soon as he’s done speaking, he is seized with a strange and very powerful urge to take hold of Oikawa’s hand and bring it to his lips; he quickly stifles the impulse. Oikawa most assuredly would not appreciate such a gesture.
“You’re after something,” says Oikawa slowly, but he sounds unsure, hesitant, in a way he never has when talking to Ushijima in the past
For the first time ever outside of a match, Ushijima feels like he is winning against Oikawa. The thought makes him almost giddy, although he does his best to rein it in. Victory is not what he’s after here, or, at least, not that kind of victory.
“I - “ he says, then stops.
He really doesn’t want to blow this.
“You what?” says Oikawa. He puts his hand up, where it hovers indecisively, as though he is trying to either ward Ushijima off or… perhaps…?
Ushijima will never know, because the sight of it, held so tantalizingly close, causes him to snatch it up in one of his own.
“I want to take you out for a drink,” he says, sounding far more desperate than he would like. He tries to tone it down, dial back, but is only partially successful. There is too much inside of him pulling him towards Oikawa. “Will you accept my offer?”
There is a moment of silence, Oikawa looking at him in astonishment before replying, the words dripping with condescension, “Why would you even think I would be free?” However, he makes no move to withdraw his hand from Ushijima’s.
Ushijima can’t help himself, all the years of longing rising up and gripping him, forcing him to bend his neck and brush his lips across the long, elegant fingers. “Then will you come out with me?” he breathes.
Oikawa’s jaw literally drops, and all he can do is stare helplessly into Ushijima’s eyes, which are boring into his.
After what seems like an eternity, he eventually whispers, “Yes.”
“Yes?” repeats Ushijima, wholly disbelieving. Did it really work? Is Oikawa going to actually go out with him?
At his expression, Oikawa laughs that same merry laugh from before. “You’re such a dork,” he says, but his tone this time isn’t jeering; it might even be said to be affectionate.
Ushijima’s fingers tighten on Oikawa’s, his eyes lighting up and his whole body tingling with anticipation.
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