@dearru

@dearru

“kiss me.”

those two words are already enough to make iwaizumi’s poor, alcohol-muddled brain come to a screeching halt. he gapes at you, unsure if he’s heard you correctly.

“iwaizumi,” you say, “i know this is sudden and weird and strange, but i need you to kiss me, like, right now.”

he blinks at you, hard. “you’re drunk,” he states, though his own words are slightly slurred.

“i am,” you confirm, nodding. “but that’s not the point.”

he squints, trying to piece together whatever mess you’ve roped him into this time. the party is still raging behind you, music thumping through the walls, but here in the dimly lit hallway, it’s just you—flushed and desperate, fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeve.

“what exactly is the point, then?” he asks warily.

you glance over your shoulder, then back at him, urgency clear in your expression. “that guy over there won’t leave me alone.”

iwaizumi frowns instantly, body tensing. “who?” 

“not important. what’s important is that you kiss me so he gets the message.”

his stomach does a weird flip, and he can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or the fact that you’re looking at him like you’re actually considering—like it’s not just some convenient excuse.

“c’mon, iwa.” your voice drops into something softer, almost teasing, but still urgent. “it’s not like you haven’t thought about it.”

his brain short-circuits for the second time tonight.

before he can respond, you’re tugging at his shirt, and suddenly, your lips are on his—warm, and tasting faintly of whatever cheap cocktail you’ve been nursing all night.

iwaizumi stiffens at first, hands hovering uncertainly in the air, brain scrambling to catch up. he’s drunk, sure, but not drunk enough to miss the fact that this is you—his best friend barring oikawa, the person he’s known for years, the one person who shouldn’t be kissing him like this.

but you are.

and worse? he’s kissing you back.

your fingers twist into the front of his shirt, tugging him closer, and a little noise escapes the back of his throat before he can stop it. his hands finally move, one settling hesitantly at your waist while the other cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. you smell like your shampoo, the same scent he’s gotten whiffs of on his hoodies after you’ve stolen them, and everything is too much.

he pulls back slightly, breathing hard. “you—” his voice cracks, so he swallows and tries again. “you sure that guy’s even looking?”

you blink up at him, dazed. “huh?” 

“i mean, if you were just trying to make a point—”

“oh. oh!” you glance over your shoulder, looking a little lost, then turn back to him with a sheepish grin. “yeah. i forgot about that.”

he lets out a rough, incredulous laugh. “you forgot?”

you nod, still gripping his shirt. your thumb brushes against the skin at his collarbone, and his stomach flips again.

“wow,” you say, quieter. “you kiss really well.”

iwaizumi lets loose a breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. his heart is pounding, and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands anymore—if he should step away and put distance between you, or if he should just pull you back in, consequences be damned.

you must notice the hesitation because you’re much closer, now, tipping your chin up and whispering, “we can stop if you want.”

it doesn’t feel like you want to stop. and god help him, he doesn’t want to stop either.

his fingers tighten at your waist. “you’re gonna regret this in the morning.”

you smile, all soft and lazy. “guess we’ll find out.”

#3. a breathy demand, “kiss me”, and what the other person does in response.