The Otherwordly

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When Oikawa found himself bleeding profusely in an alleyway, being chased by half the demons from hell that month ago, he figured he had two options; fight (possibly to the death) or turn up at the guild and grovel. They would kill him because of his demon blood, probably, or for it, if they still had that sorcerer working for them, but perhaps it'd give him the time he needed.

The latter option wasn't exactly appealing. The guild had shown nobody any kindness. Even their vow to protect humans was more an excuse to slaughter his kind, or it had been for as long as Oikawa could remember.

Truly, the demons that weren't currently baying for his blood were decent beings, though there were, of course, a large number of demons baying for his blood.

He'd been ready for his death that night, it was the only path he'd ever really seen in front of him.

And then appeared a third option, in the form of Iwaizumi Hajime.

He'd thought for sure at first that Iwaizumi was some kind of other-worldly being. He was too rough around the edges to be an angel, he didn't smell like a demon either, yet he had approached Oikawa, shining that god-awful light in his eyes, and asked in all seriousness if he was alright.

As if.

And perhaps it'd been panic which prompted Oikawa to bind them. He knew the consequences of such an action. They would share far more than either of them ever wanted to. They would have to be in close quarters almost constantly. It took him precisely seven minutes to realize the problem with that; Iwaizumi might not like him too much.

Or at all, in fact.

Neither the demon hunters nor the demons brought out Oikawa's 'good' side. And even though it was amusing to watch as he riled Iwaizumi up, part of him longed to be softer, more genuine.

Yet despite Oikawa's constant jibes and uncaring exterior, Iwaizumi was unfalteringly kind to him. It was subtle, but easy to get used to, somehow.

Oikawa was used to people whose deeds contradicted their words; he'd seen too many times kind words undermined by cruel actions. He'd never seen someone who exhibited kindness quite like Iwaizumi - yet suddenly he had a hand to hold.

It was far too easy to get used to. He found himself longing for Iwaizumi in his arms, even as he oh-so-casually embraced him. At nights, he found himself thinking when he awoke from the bottomless pit of fear his mind had become, that it was okay. That Iwaizumi was there.

-

When Iwaizumi returned home smelling like demon, Oikawa was worried. He should have felt something, through their bond, if Iwaizumi was in mortal danger.

He was fine, Oikawa assured himself, telling himself that was why he'd hugged him from behind. That was why he'd buried his face in Iwaizumi's neck. To check, like he couldn't scent Iwaizumi from a room away.

That night, Oikawa dreamed of him. When he'd first seen him, in his mind's eye, amongst a swirl of disorienting colours, all he could think was 'oh no'. By the end of the night it would be Iwaizumi's blood on his hands. Iwaizumi he saw dying and in pain. That, he realized, would hurt him on a whole other level.

Except when he did touch Iwaizumi, he kissed him instead.

It was like he'd been pulled towards him, like some, guardian deity was nudging him from behind. He took several, hurried, steps, and his arms, almost of their own accord, looped loosely around Iwaizumi's broad shoulders.

In the dream he did not hesitate, only leaned forwards and pressed his mouth to Iwaizumi's, as if it belonged there. He closed his eyes, expected to find carnage when he opened them, but saw only Iwaizumi.