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You're now rockin' with the champion

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Oikawa’s generally a pretty good traveler.

He’s not bothered by long nights, or sleeping in whatever quiet corner that he can find. He’s pretty flexible, and can work his long limbs into some sort of comfortable position when all he gets to sit in is a small chair.

So flights don’t really bother him.

That is - except for the descent.

There’s just something about feeling the airplane tip and start flying downwards that really makes him nervous. Yeah, sure - he knows the pilots have lots of training, and it’s supposed to feel like this, but that knowledge doesn’t really help him when they’re free-falling from thousands of feet in the air at the speed of sound, with no set course and everyone screaming around him-

Okay, okay, that’s not really what’s happening, but that’s what it feels like.

So when the plane finally touches down at their location - Las Vegas, Nevada - Oikawa is very much looking forward to making their way to the hotel for some much-needed rest. He remembers his bag, and shuffles off the plane with the rest of the passengers, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand. Everything is sore - all the standing up and maneuvering around other passengers didn’t help, apparently - and when he finally steps into the airport, he’s grateful to have some room.

Oikawa follows the signs to the baggage claim with ease. He knows Kuroo is fluent in English, so he must be directing Iwaizumi, as he finds the two of them there, looking groggy while they wait for their bags. As he approaches, Oikawa gives a small wave, which Kuroo returns with a smile. Iwaizumi just nods, looking sleepy. No, it’s not cute.

“There’s a cab waiting, as soon as we get our bags,” Kuroo tells him. “I’ve got to go to a few quick meetings, but you two are free to check in. Everything’s comped, so you can do whatever you want in the hotel.”

That gets a grin from Oikawa. “Sounds great! Don’t worry, Tetsu, I will.” He laughs, and Iwaizumi steps past him to grab his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He pauses, looking from Oikawa to the baggage claim, before pulling off Oikawa’s travel bag, too. Oikawa blinks, a little surprised, but takes it.

“Oh, thanks, Iwaizumi! I’m surprised you remembered this one was mine.” Oikawa adjusts the handle so that he can sling it over his shoulder.

“Really? How could I forget?” He looks down at the bag, which is teal and white, covered in tiny purple flowers. “Not to mention that it matches your other bag.” He nods at the smaller bag Oikawa is holding, which does have a matching pattern. He chooses to not mention the matching laptop sleeve and cosmetic bags that are tucked safely into his luggage.

“It’s easy to spot, right? My mom gave me the set a few years back on my birthday.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi huffs a laugh, “Easy to spot.”

Oikawa opens his mouth to retort, but Kuroo cuts him off. “Hey, the cab’s here. Let’s get moving.” He picks up his own suitcase (which Iwaizumi didn’t comment on, but it’s covered in tiny Neko Atsume cats. Playing favourites, are we, Iwaizumi?) and leads the way out of the airport, down to the pick-up lane, where a few cabs are already waiting. It’s dark, the only lights coming from the airport itself and street lights, and when Oikawa checks his phone, he sees the plane landed pretty much on time. It’s just after eleven.

They get to the hotel quickly, and Kuroo deals with checking them in and all of that. Oikawa pulls out his phone and checks the messages he’s got - a few from his friends, one from his only co-worker that he actually likes (congratulating him on his luck at being out of the office for the week), responding to them while they wait. Iwaizumi doesn’t check his phone, just shoving his hands in the pocket of his sweatpants, looking around the hotel with some interest.

Oikawa pockets his phone, deciding instead maybe starting out this whole talking thing would be good. “Have you been here before, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi narrows his gaze. “What did you just call me?”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa grins, “Have you fought here before?”

He looks like he wants to keep fighting it, but Iwaizumi lets the nickname slide, for now. “A few years ago, I came here for a fight, but it’s been a long time.”

Oikawa nods, “Are you nervous?”

Iwaizumi almost laughs. “No. There’s no use in getting nervous - in the ring, the second you start getting nervous and hesitating is the second that you lose.” He gets this serious look on his face, like he’s playing through a fight in his mind. Oikawa swallows.

“Okay, you’re checked in.” Kuroo walks over, and passes them both room keys. “We’re all on separate floors, of course but it doesn’t really matter. Iwaizumi’s room has been upgraded free of charge, so, if you two wanna go up there, when I get back I’ll just fill you in on the details of tomorrow.” He picks up his bag, “It’s looking like we’ll have one interview in the afternoon before prepping for the fight, but we need to work out the details.”

“Sure thing, Tetsu!” Oikawa nods, and heads over to the elevator. “Come on, Iwa-chan!”

Kuroo and Iwaizumi exchange a look, the latter looking almost exasperated. But, he walks over.

The elevator ride up is pretty quiet, as a few people shuffle in and out of the elevator around them. Iwaizumi’s room is pretty high up - on the twenty-first floor, he’s clearly a special guest. The elevator dings, and they make their way to the room. Iwaizumi throws open the door, stepping in and immediately kicking off his shoes.

“Old habits die hard, don’t they?” Oikawa laughs, and pulls his shoes off too, leaving them carefully by the door. Iwaizumi hums in response, as Oikawa looks around to survey the room. “Holy shit Iwa-chan, you’re just living in style, aren’t you?”

Iwaizumi half-turns to look at him, and he’s halfway out of his sweatshirt; he pauses, giving Oikawa an extended look at his well-defined abs, before pulling it the rest of the way off and letting his shirt fall down. He shrugs, and walks further into the hotel room, which is huge .

Upgraded was a bit of an understatement.

The hotel room itself is more like a small flat, really; there’s a small kitchen, attached to a living room with a huge television, presumably to watch all the biggest local events. Three doors lead off of the main room - the bathroom (with a tub and a shower, he’s already jealous of Iwaizumi), the bathroom, and a far bigger closet than Iwaizumi definitely needs. Oikawa whistles as he leaves his bags by the door, and follows Iwaizumi in.

“You hungry?” Iwaizumi asks, dropping himself onto the couch and grabbing the room service menu that’s perched on the coffee table. He scans it briefly, before passing it to Oikawa, who sits down on the other side of the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Order whatever you want. Kuroo’s paying.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a great idea.” He looks through the menu, picking out a few items for himself, which Iwaizumi promptly orders.

They don’t really talk, right away - the silence around them isn’t awkward, but more so relaxing, after that long plane ride. Now finally getting some time to rest, Oikawa stretches his long limbs out languidly, letting out a soft sigh of relief. He doesn’t miss the way that Iwaizumi’s eyes follow his movements, entranced.

Instead, they raid the mini-fridge once their food arrives, taking what they can get from the tiny bottles they’re provided. The alcohol loosens everything up; Oikawa ditches his sweater, and makes himself more comfortable on the couch. Iwaizumi laughs easier.

“Are you allowed to drink the night before a fight?” Oikawa asks, smirking, as he finishes off the contents of a small bottle of gin. He plucks a bottle out of Iwaizumi’s hands - quickly checks the label, and it’s some kind of Russian vodka he’s unfamiliar with - and finishes off the shot that’s left in it, enjoying the reaction he’s getting from Iwaizumi.

“As long as I don’t get hungover tomorrow, it’s fine.” He laughs, and finishes off the rest of his hamburger, picking at the sides he got with it. “My coach isn’t here to give me the gears anyway.” He picks around the couple of bottles they haven’t opened yet, but nothing looks appealing to him. It’s not really alcohol he’s wanting right now, anyway.

“That makes sense.” Oikawa nods, leaning back on the couch; he steals a few of Iwaizumi’s french fries as he settles on some pay-per-view for them to watch.

Or, well, not watch.

Oikawa can feel Iwaizumi watching him; he doesn’t need to look to see the way he’s following the length of his limbs with his eyes, or mapping out the slope of his neck. It’s enticing, in a way - yeah, Iwaizumi is probably used to fans throwing themselves at him, but Oikawa’s not that easy. Iwaizumi can look all he wants, but that’s all he’s giving him.

For now.

Oikawa’s not sure he’s ever felt more on edge while watching some shitty movie on television. He’s hyper-aware of Iwaizumi, and how much he wants him. Iwaizumi passes him the rest of his fries - a bribe, maybe? - and Oikawa takes them happily, feeling more content, now that his hunger is sated.

Well… his hunger for food, anyway.

Oikawa distracts himself from the atmosphere by looking through the hotel services offered. Obviously, everything catches his eye - there are a lot of spa services he’s going to have to make use of on their down-time, and a class tomorrow morning that catches his eye. “Iwa-chan, there’s a yoga class tomorrow morning. You should come with me.”

Iwaizumi inhales, “You do yoga?”

“Mhm. It’s pretty easy to learn.” He looks over, and throws him a pretty smile. “I’ll show you the ropes. Come on! It’ll be good to get limber for the match.”

It’s a good thing Kuroo knocks on the door all but five minutes later, and gives them the run-down for the next day, because Oikawa really needs that shower when he makes it back to his room.


“Iwa-chan, you need to relax a little more.”

Oikawa grins, putting a hand on his hip. He arrive early to the yoga class, and already chose a spot to set himself up. Iwaizumi, on the other hand, walks in just before it starts, and looks a little out of place in some black sweatpants, and a white sleeveless shirt. He shrugs his shoulders, but it looks a little bit forced. He’s clearly out of his element.

Or maybe he’s a little distracted by the fact that Oikawa’s chosen his favourite yoga outfit for the morning, a pair of yoga pants ( tight yoga pants) and a black and white crop top. Whatever.

“Relax a little. Come over here.” Oikawa nods over to the spot he’s chosen, and Iwaizumi takes a yoga mat, rolling it out and sitting down in it. “If your muscles are all tense, you’re gonna pull something, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi lets out an annoyed groan at the teasing, but takes a breath and relaxes his shoulders. It’s much nicer to focus on the exposed view of Oikawa’s back, anyway.

“Good. Now, let’s - oh, it’s starting.” Oikawa turns over fully, to where he can get a better view of the instructor.

Oikawa’s been doing yoga for years, since he was a teenager. It helped keep him limber and agile back in his volleyball days, and now, he finds that it’s just so good for his overall health. He feels better when he’s keeping up with it.

He’s not sure how much Iwaizumi has done it - at least a little, maybe, he seems somewhat familiar with the routine, but he could just be faking it - but Oikawa doesn’t hold back. There’s no do whatever you can, for him. He starts off slow, with the opening sequence, but stretches himself into positions following the instructor.

Iwaizumi doesn’t do a whole hell of a lot. He’s a little distracted watching the arch of Oikawa’s back as he leans forward, stretching his back muscles, before switching to another position, this time showing off the curve of his thighs, and ass, and, yeah- fuck. Oikawa looks back just in time to catch Iwaizumi looking, a triumphant smirk making its way across his face.

He huffs, choosing to try his best and stretch out to reach his toes. “Don’t get too cocky Shittykawa, I could bench your weight and not break a sweat,” he grumbles, to which Oikawa laughs.

“Oh? I’d like to see that, Iwa-chan.”

Even Oikawa’s not sure if he’s serious or not.


 It’s three hours later when the first round of afternoon interviews are over, and Oikawa can loosen his tie while they eat before Iwaizumi starts warming up and seriously getting ready for his fight.

Oikawa picks away at his fish as Iwaizumi picks a lean, easy meal to eat. He’s quiet, but Oikawa doesn’t really care - it was pretty clear that he didn’t enjoy the interviews, so he’s not going to force him to talk now.

“That went really well,” Kuroo chimes in, between bites of his meal, “How did you find it, Iwaizumi?”

He looks up from his vegetables before nodding. “It was good. Oikawa was fast but not too fast that it was hard to keep up.” Oikawa smiles at the assurance, nodding once.

“Good. That’s good. Tooru, it wasn’t too much either? There was only supposed to be one interviewer, not three.” Kuroo makes a face, obviously annoyed at the sudden change of plans.

“Oh, it was fine, Tetsu! I kept up just fine.” He laughs, “And plus, they all thought my accent was cute.” He grins, but Iwaizumi makes a face, caught somewhere between annoyed and amused. Oikawa turns his attention back to his food before he spends too much time staring.

“Good, that’s great.” Kuroo finishes the last of his food, chewing and then swallowing quickly; he always seems to be in a hurry, like he has a million things to do. “Alright, so Iwaizumi, you have the next two hours to start warming up, and whatever else you do to prepare. The gym is open. The first fights start then, and yours is at 7 o’clock. Okay?” Iwaizumi doesn’t answer, so Kuroo jabs him hard in the side - Iwaizumi grumbles, annoyed and turns over to Kuroo.

“Yes, yes, I got it. Seven.” Iwaizumi huffs, and tries to focus back on his food.

“Okay. Oikawa, you’ve got seats reserved for you. At the door, just give them your name, you’re on the list.”

“The list?” Oikawa grins, “Alright, do I need to be doing anything?”

Kuroo shakes his head, pulling out his phone. “No. There will be a short interview right after the fight - just a couple of minutes - so as soon as the fight is over, just walk to the back and meet up with Iwaizumi when the staff get to him.”

“Walk back?”

“Yeah, I mean - if you want to watch the fight that is.” Kuroo shrugs, “It’s your call. Either way, I gotta get going. You good?” Oikawa and Iwaizumi both nod, so Kuroo takes his leave; Iwaizumi and Oikawa both finish up quickly thereafter, and gather up their things.

“So, I guess…” Oikawa clears his throat, “Good luck, or whatever? I feel like I shouldn’t tell a fighter to ‘break a leg’.”

Iwaizumi snorts with laughter, “Yeah, good luck works. Thanks. I’ll see you in a bit, then.” He turns, and heads out the door, sparing one last look back before leaving.

Now, Oikawa considers getting a head-start on all the sights that he wants to see while in Vegas.

Of course, there’s the typical gambling, and drinking, and seeing a good show, or just getting completely sloshed while trying not to melt in the heat. He could do some shopping, or take a scenic walk - there’s a lot of options.

Instead, he decides to head back to the hotel, and get his - or rather, the company’s  - money’s worth of the spa services that they have to offer.

And, it’s pretty much the best couple of hundred dollars he’s not had to spend on himself.

The shower in the spa is heavenly, and he spends way too long in there - but he’s not paying for the water, so he really couldn’t care. He cleans every inch of himself with the fancy soaps they have to offer, and is very happy to walk out smelling clean and fresh. He’s relaxed and content by the time he gets a massage, followed by a manicure and pedicure. He’s pretty much in heaven. He makes a mental note to thank Kuroo for this, but he’s also pretty sure that he’s not going to remember by the time he sees him next.

It’s quiet, though - and he’s given a lot of time to think.

And the one thing that’s rattling around in his brain, even more than before, is how good it felt to have Iwaizumi watching him, this morning. He remembers the little view he got of his abs, too, and he’s pretty much in heaven.

He figures there’s no harm in fantasizing a little, mainly because he knows he’s not going to just let Iwaizumi have his way.

The thing is, he knows Iwaizumi has a reputation for sleeping around.

Of course he did some research when he found out who the fighter was (Okay, it was a ten-minute Google search in the airport), but one of the first things he found out was that. It’s fine, of course - it’s his life, he’s free to lead it as he pleases - but Oikawa’s not one to buy into that. Iwaizumi thinks he can just have?

Think again.

Oikawa finally makes his way up to his room, and into some clean clothes just before he has to leave. He’s going to be working, so he picks something that’s a little nicer - some slacks and a nice teal shirt - taking with him nothing but his wallet, and his phone. He’ll need it to get in contact with Kuroo, just in case he needs him for anything, and he’s figuring that after the match would be a great time to visit one of the many bars or clubs on the strip and get himself properly shit-faced drunk.

The gym is thankfully close to their hotel, and by the time Oikawa gets there, it’s already packed.

The scale of this event hadn’t really hit him until now, and it makes his blood run cold.

There are people everywhere - fans, screaming and trying to buy last-minute tickets, to no avail. There’s cameras, and security upon security. Some fighters walking in, basically having to fight their way through the crowd. It’s intense.

Oikawa’s nobody famous, but even he gets some attention, and he hears some comments as he tries to slip through - he’s attractive enough to be noticed, he knows that, but these are strangers, and it feels weird.

He gets to the door, where the Terminator stares him down. He looks at him hard, until Oikawa remembers -

“Oh, um, I’m an interpreter for one of the fighters. Tooru Oikawa?” He feels nervous, but, the guy (who is built like a brick shithouse, but apparently isn’t even a fighter ), nods and moves out of the way.

“Go ahead. Down the hall on your right, through the big swinging doors. Look for a very tall woman with short black hair, she’ll give you some ID.”

Oikawa nods quickly, and slips through the doors. He remembers the instructions, and finds the woman - she must be some sort of manager - who hands him a pre-made ID, featuring an awful picture Kuroo must have pulled from the depths of his social media, the bastard. Oikawa slips the lanyard around his neck, and goes to where he’s directed.

He’s honestly not very interested in watching the fights, but he figures he’ll at least watch Iwaizumi when he goes out. At the very least, he’s intrigued enough to want to see him rolling around half-naked, beating the shit out of some dude.

So when the time comes for Iwaizumi’s fight, Oikawa slips out of the back and into the arena.

The first thing that hits him is the noise .

It’s loud.

The stands are absolutely packed, people sitting all the way back in the nosebleeds, shouting and screaming for their fighters, mostly in English but some other languages in the mix. Some people are drinking, others are eating, but everyone’s eyes are on the ring.

Oikawa turns just to see the referee pulling apart two fighters, announcing the winner, and the crowd loses it.

He’s never seen such excitement. It’s intoxicating.

People are on their feet, and Oikawa is almost swept away in it; there’s screaming, and it’s all incoherent, but he can feel it , the energy and pure exhilaration just radiating from the ring, and from everyone who is here to enjoy it.

He’s not sure how he makes it to his seat, but when he does, he grabs on to the arm wrests and holds the fuck on, needing to ground himself and focus a little.

But he can’t, because Iwaizumi’s walking out now, opposite another fighter. He looks hyped up and ready - he’s just wearing a pair of black shorts, fixing a pair of black gloves onto his hands, but it’s clear that he’s focused. He’s ready. He’s in the zone.

And this time, Oikawa lets himself get swept away.

He can’t hear anything over the buzzing in his ears as the fight starts, and the movement is immediate.

Oikawa inhales a deep breath as the fighter lunges at Iwaizumi, but he’s too fast; he easily evades, jumping backwards, and is on top of him within a matter of seconds.

The first round is the fastest five minutes of Oikawa’s life.

Iwaizumi has a strong grip, the muscles in his arms trembling with effort as he holds his opponent down; he’s nearly knocked over as he tries to flip them, but Iwaizumi leverages himself out, and tightens his grip around the other fighter’s neck.

They both hold on, for dear life. Iwaizumi takes a punch to the face as his opponent struggles, and get his way out.

The fight starts over again, and Oikawa is on the edge of his seat.

It feels like seconds have passed when the buzzer goes, and both fighters have to take a step back, back to their own side of the ring.

Oikawa remembers how to breathe.

The second round brings a shift of momentum, Iwaizumi getting pinned by his opponent. He struggles, sweat dripping down his brow with effort, but it’s no easy feat; they’re evenly matched. Oikawa feels the adrenaline racing when Iwaizumi manages to trip him up, and flips them both over; they’re grappling, the fight becoming more desperate, more heated.

Oikawa’s not sure how he manages to survive this.

It’s engaging, it’s exciting, it’s enthralling - Oikawa can’t look away. Every fiber of his being is completely on edge as he feels a rush unlike anything he’s felt at all in a long time. He wants to grab it, hold it; cling to it.

Iwaizumi has his opponent down, in a tight hold; it looks impossible to break, and the crowd is absolutely losing it. The other fighter struggles, and manages to hit him once, before submitting.

Then he’s on his feet and screaming, pulled up by the person next to him, when Iwaizumi is announced as the winner; Iwaizumi looks out into the crowd, and Oikawa’s sure that he smiles when he sees that Oikawa’s watching.

Fuck.

Oikawa remembers Kuroo’s instructions, and forces his feet to move - his heart is hammering in his chest, and he bumps into a dozen people along the way, before flashing his identification and getting into the back. He stumbles, almost tripping over his own two feet but managing to follow the cameras and the sound of people to where Iwaizumi is.

He’s already got a few people with him, and cameras. Shit. Oikawa runs a hand through his hair, and takes a breath to calm his racing heart, but it doesn’t work.

Iwaizumi spots him, and quickly waves him over. Oikawa joins him, immediately falling into his role.

This gives him something to focus on, something to distract himself from what he just saw.

Most importantly, he can distract himself from how unbelievable he feels.

As soon as the interview is over, Iwaizumi turns to head back to the room where he can get changed. Not sure what to do with himself, Oikawa follows and waits for him. He’s just about ready to start tapping his foot when Iwaizumi walks out, now wearing a clean white shirt and a pair of black sweatpants (God, do any of his pants not ride tantalizingly low on his hips?) that makes Oikawa’s head spin even more. He’s wiped the blood from his face as best as he can, leaving only a couple of cuts, mainly one stretching across his right eyebrow.

Oikawa resists the urge to touch it.

Words are lost, but apparently Iwaizumi is ready to pick up some of the slack. “I saw you watching. Did you like the fight?”

Oikawa bites his lip, forcing himself to maintain eye contact and nod. “Yeah. It was pretty incredible.”

“You’ve never been to one before?” He asks, nodding down the hall to where they need to go. Oikawa follows, and shakes his head.

“No, never.” He inhales. “It was… intense.”

Iwaizumi hums, “Yeah, they are… especially your first.” He’s grinning, as he opens up the back door where the fighters can walk out in relative peace.

Oikawa just nods to show he’s listening, but doesn’t say much else or risk give away how flustered he really feels. He looks up to see Iwaizumi looking across the lot, to where the fans are gathered, still screaming and trying to get in. Oikawa’s about to open his mouth, but Iwaizumi beats him to it. “Let’s get back to the hotel. I really need a shower.”

Oikawa swallows thickly. “Yeah. Okay.”


 The car ride back to the hotel is probably the most tense five-minute car ride of his life. The tension in the air is so thick he’s pretty sure you could cut it with a butter knife.

Iwaizumi’s watching him; he can feel his gaze, roaming around his body, but he can’t bring himself to look up and meet his eye. It’s annoying - he’s not some little submissive kitten that Iwaizumi can just bring back to his hotel room for a quick fuck after a fight.

Even though that option seems really, really appealing right now.

They make it back to the hotel room, and neither of them are talking yet. Oikawa slides into the elevator, and is grateful when they’re not the only two in there.

Except the other two occupants get off on the second floor. Great.

He presses the button for his floor, 6 , a few times, while he waits. The elevator dings, and the doors slide open.

Oikawa’s about to get out, but Iwaizumi puts a hand on his arm, voice low, and heavy.

“Want to come up with me?”

Oikawa stops, slowly, and lets the elevator doors close in front of him.