Oikawa's twenty-fifth birthday party concludes on the living room floor with Oikawa rambling drunkenly and Hajime giggling in a fit of inebriation.
Atsumu finds that befitting, considering the number of bars they've graced with their charming presence that night, and sprawls down inelegantly on the carpet. "Yer soooo drunk," he says, snorting laughter and wondering how much he'll hate himself in the morning.
"Pffft." Oikawa seems to laugh at the noise coming from his own mouth for he leans to muffle it in Hajime's shoulder. "Iwa-chan's drunk~"
"You're literally falling asleep sitting up asshole," Hajime nudges him, but he looks awfully fond.
Atsumu doesn't bother looking away when Hajime tips Oikawa's face aside to mesh their lips together. Oikawa hums, sounding pleased and Atsumu watches as Oikawa melts into the touch.
"Stop sucking face," he whines when they keep on trading sloppy kisses. "'M not gonna third wheel."
Hajime nips Oikawa's lips one last time before drawing back, gaze hazy and molten.
"You could threesome," Hajime suggests with a sly smirk.
Atsumu is not sure if he's joking or not, but his body gives one pathetic, interested throb. Jesus, is he that deprived? They're his closest friends.
His eyes fall to Oikawa's languid form.
Oikawa is his best friend. Arguably the person that understands him the most besides Samu. Their matching sense of humour makes every hangout unforgettable.
"Ya want me ta fuck yer boyfriend, Hajime?" Atsumu arches a sly eyebrow, watching with mild interest as Oikawa's cheeks flush a deeper red. "What, ya can't handle Oi-kun's wildness?"
He doesn't look offended.
Oikawa's eyes are half-mast and sparkling the way they do when he has a wicked idea. Atsumu's body shivers. He can't kid himself. Oikawa is fucking gorgeous. Atsumu has thought so since the moment he'd met him, but their petty rivalry had kept him from acknowledging that.
Three years later, on the thready carpet of a living room, Atsumu finally acknowledges it.
Hajime snorts. "I could definitely use some help fuckin' the brattiness out of him." He nuzzles Oikawa's throat, unrepentant.
Oikawa squawks and pinches his side. "Fight your own goddamn battles, Iwa-chan!"
Atsumu can't help it, he joins in on the laughter. "Yer so drunk. Ask me again in the morning 'cause I don't think ya mean it."
Hajime shrugs. Oikawa pouts. "Am I not sexy enough for you, Atsu-chan?"
"Oof," Atsumu laughs, slumping back at the ridiculousness of another drunken banter. "Ya want me to wax poetics about ya, Oi-kun?"
"I mean, it is my birthday," Oikawa hums, relaxing back against the couch cushions. "It won't kill ya to say something nice."
"Nah, it might," Atsumu teases ruthlessly. He relents after a moment of silence. "I think yer real damn special, Oi-kun. An' I think anyone that don't see that doesn' deserve ya."
Atsumu is watching the ceiling, blinking sleepily at the warm glow cast by the corner lamp when Oikawa looms over him, startling Atsumu. "You mean that, Atsumu?"
He blinks, nodding dumbly, "Uh, 'course I do."
Oikawa's eyes fall to his mouth, summoning a strange shiver down his spine. "Can I get a birthday kiss?" he murmurs, soft brown hair falling in his eyes.
Atsumu can't fathom the telltale of arousal coiling in his gut.
"Won't yer Iwa-chan mind?" Atsumu swallows thickly, eyes now trained on Oikawa's plush, pink lips.
