Haikyuu!!, Fulcrum

Title: Fulcrum [Sawamura/Oikawa]
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: Oikawa and Sawamura go to the same university and somehow end up as roommates, which is a good thing because Sawamura doesn’t know what to do without a team to focus on, and Oikawa still has no idea how to take care of himself.
AN: Written for a prompt fill for 2016 SASO, round 1: Remember when Oikawa and Daichi ended up going to the same university, became roommates, and played on the university volleyball team together? Remember when they could bond over what being captain was like?


The thing that drives Oikawa crazy, like batshit insane, is that Sawamura is a perfect roommate.

He’s quiet. He doesn’t smoke. He picks up after himself. He isn’t bothered by the noise if Oikawa stays up late re-watching matches. He always asks if Oikawa needs something from the store or wants to throw any laundry in with his. Even the story about how they ended up sharing an apartment is cutesy, both of them showing up at the rental office at the same time and the woman showing them apartments just assuming they were there together.

“What is this, a shoujo manga set-up?” Oikawa had asked.

“Well,” Sawamura had laughed as he she apologized, flustered, over and over. “Maybe it’s a good idea. At least we know each other, right? We could afford a better place together, probably.”

“That’s…reasonable,” Oikawa had to admit, and that’s another thing, Sawamura is always reasonable. Even when they’re at practice being force to shag balls for the seniors, if Sawamura is annoyed by it, he doesn’t show it. He goes about it in the same calm, efficient way that the man does everything, unruffled, dogged.

Oikawa hates it, hates starting over. He knows it’s necessary, but he won an award for best prefectural setter last year and he should be training to take the senior setter’s place and getting to know the spikers in case of an injury, instead of being treated like some rookie who can’t tell a jump serve from a jump floater. This is not an effective use of his time and it rubs over his nerves every practice, every day. Sometimes the Japanese school system annoys Oikawa just as much as Sawamura does.

Oikawa takes out his frustrations on the volleyball after most of the others are gone, ignoring his growling stomach and the pile of homework he has yet to start, no Iwaizumi to yell at him for overworking. His childhood friend is back home in Miyagi, busy learning to run his father’s business. Oikawa focuses only on the slap of his palm against the ball, on making his jump serve faster, more accurate, until their coach will have to acknowledge that they should be using him.

He isn’t aware of anything else until suddenly Sawamura is standing in front of him. Oikawa starts, then tenses for the impact, but Sawamura just reaches over and takes the ball out of his hands. He holds it between his own, out of reach, expression stern.

“Stop that.” The set of his mouth is stern, but his eyes are kinder. “You must miss him, right? Iwaizumi-kun. It must feel strange to play without him.”

Oikawa isn’t prone to crying in public, but the mention of Iwaizumi’s name hits the center of Oikawa’s chest like Sawamura had spiked it there, and Oikawa has to look up at the lights on the ceiling and close his eyes tightly for a second.

“It’s fine,” Oikawa finally shrugs when he has control of himself again. Sawamura raises an eyebrow, and for some reason Oikawa finds himself explaining. “It was always going to be like this. Iwa-chan was always going to graduate, take over his family’s business, get married, and have a bunch of cute kids for me to spoil.”

“Ah.” Daichi hesitates, about to ask something, but only squeezes the volleyball a little. His hands look big against the leather, cradling it snugly.

“Go ahead,” Oikawa encourages. He likes honesty more than privacy, and they’re roommates after all.

“Did he know how you felt?” Sawamura asks. Perceptive, that one. Oikawa remembers how many teams realized too late that Karasuno’s captain wasn’t just there for his receives and volleyball thighs.

“He knows,” Oikawa answers. “I told him, but like I said, this is the way things are. What about you?” Oikawa knows he’s being nosy, but doesn’t bother to stop himself. “I always thought you and Refreshing-kun had something going on in the broom closet.”

Sawamura barks a laugh, shaking his head. “No. No, it…wasn’t like that.”

“But you wanted it to be like that,” Oikawa presses as Sawamura drops the ball into the bin. Sawamura doesn’t answer for a few moments, hands curled over the edge of the bin, looking at nothing. He’s about to brush it off, and Oikawa doesn’t want to let him. This is why everybody says he has a bad personality. “Captain to captain, tell the truth, hm?”

“We were always three,” is what he finally says. He looks up at Oikawa, smile warm and bittersweet, like all nostalgic things are. “I wanted balance. Karasuno needed balance.”

“You’re so goddamn responsible,” Oikawa grumbles, which makes Sawamura laugh again. He thinks about it in the back of his mind as they make the trip home, Sawamura pushing Karasuno’s backs with those hands, thinking of everyone. Being the fulcrum at the base of his team, unwavering, so that balance could exist.

Honestly, Oikawa thinks in bed when he can’t sleep, staring at the ceiling. What an annoying guy. He can’t get the image of Sawamura’s hands out of his mind, the strength of his fingers, the broadness of his palms, how tan his skin was against the white-striped volleyball. Oikawa spent the summer inside practicing, so it’s not much of a stretch to think about Sawamura’s hands against his own pale skin instead.

Finally Oikawa rolls out of bed and trudges over to Sawamura’s room, dropping down into Sawamura’s futon and sneaking under his blankets before Sawamura knows what’s happening. Sawamura’s eyes open quickly enough that Oikawa knows he wasn’t sleeping either.

“I can’t sleep,” Oikawa says, sliding in against Sawamura’s side and wrapping arms around his neck so there’s no mistaking what he’s here for. “You should help me out. You can pretend I’m Refreshing-kun or whoever if you want, I don’t mind.”

Sawamura’s hands grip Oikawa’s shoulders, stilling him. There’s enough light from the streetlight outside that Oikawa can see the way Sawamura is looking at him. “What makes you think I would do something like that to you?”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” Oikawa says, brushing off the embarrassment of rejection. He tries to slide back out of bed, but Sawamura’s hands hold him right where he is.

“I just meant, I wouldn’t pretend you were someone else. You aren’t going to pretend I am, right?”

Oikawa shakes his head. Even if he wanted to, there’s no way to pretend solid, broad-shouldered Daichi is Iwaizumi, or anyone else. It’s nice, how different he is. If he were even a little same, Oikawa wouldn’t be able to bear it.

“So it’s fine, then,” Sawamura says, tugging him close enough to kiss. One of his hands slides down to the center of Oikawa’s back, so warm through his T-shirt that Oikawa shudders before the tense set of his shoulders relaxes for the first time since the semester started. He can’t wait for the heat of those hands to be on his skin.

He can’t wait to feel them pushing him from behind when they stand together on the court.

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