Archive of Our Own

It was his own fault. Iwaizumi never should have asked what Oikawa and Hanamaki were up to when he saw them hanging the fourth sprig of mistletoe in their living room. Years of experience should have taught him that, but he never really seemed to learn his lesson when it came to those two. Now here he was at a restaurant, several drinks deep while he tried to explain to his friends his distaste for forced makeouts as he walked through his apartment. 

“Listen! I just wanna be able to go to the kitchen‘r bathroom without being mauled. Is’at too much to ask?” His words were beginning to run together and he gestured widely with his hands, sloshing some of the sake out of his cup before he downed the rest in one big gulp and slammed it down on the tabletop. 

“Oh wow,” Yahaba drawled sarcastically from the other side of the table. “That must be so awful to have to kiss your three boyfriends.” Kyotani snickered next to him. 

“Sorry, Iwaizumi-san. You’ll get no sympathy from us,” Kunimi chuckled as he refilled Iwaizumi’s cup. 

“Whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway,” he slurred as he swiveled his head toward Oikawa and Makki. “You still haven’t caught me ‘n your shitty kissing trap. And you won’t.” 

They leaned against each other, both looking like they were trying to keep the other from falling over. It was probably a good thing the group had agreed on a traditional style restaurant with low tables and floor cushions; one of them would have toppled over in an actual chair by now. Oikawa draped his long arms over Makki’s shoulders as they both turned toward Iwaizumi. The two grinned at him with dancing eyes and curled lips — echoes of that morning they’d spent tangled up together after they’d dragged him and Matsukawa back to bed. Expressions he would have recognized as trouble if not for the sake pumping through his veins.

“Care to place a wager on that?” Makki waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Tsk. Fine. The day you catch me under the mistletoe … is the day I let you two double team me,” he leaned toward them, unbalanced, then spun abruptly in his seat to point a finger at Matsukawa, “while I wear a collar and call you Daddy. Not. Gonna. Happen.” 

He punctuated each word with a hard jab to Mattsun’s sternum, and behind him he heard simultaneous shouts of “Deal” and “Iwa-chan!?”

Something in Matsukawa’s expression shifted. It made Iwaizumi dizzy, and he flattened his palm over his boyfriend’s chest to keep his balance. His own words were ringing in his ears, and he’d probably care more about the so-called wager he’d just stumbled into if not for the way the room was tilting on its axis. Iwaizumi tried to focus on him and the rosy blush coloring his cheeks. 

“Issei … since when do you … blush?” 

“Holy shit. Achievement unlocked,” Makki laughed. 

Oikawa whispered over his shoulder, “Secret Daddy kink.”

“Why did this never occur to us? Tooru, think of the possibilities!” 

“Oh … gods. I did not need to know any of that,” Kindaichi mumbled into his fist after several moments of stunned silence. The rest of the table howled with laughter.

“Kunimi,” Kyotani thrust his empty cup forward with an expression caught somewhere between this being the best and the worst day of his life. 

Iwaizumi turned toward them, a little too quickly, and nearly toppled over before gripping the table’s edge to steady himself. He held out his own cup with a huff as he fought against the hazy warmth that had enveloped his limbs. Kunimi refilled them all again, but just as Iwaizumi brought it to his lips Matsukawa plucked it right out of his hand. 

“What the fu—“

“I think you’ve had enough,” Matsukawa chuckled as he pulled a grumbling Iwaizumi over to lean against the broad expanse of his chest. “Come’ere babe,” he set Iwaizumi’s glass out of reach and carded long fingers through his cropped hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. 

That was the last thing Iwaizumi would remember when he woke up tomorrow. Not the look Matsukawa threw over his head at Hanamaki and Oikawa. Not the whispered let Daddy take care of you, just loud enough for him to hear. Not the catch in his breath or the shiver those words sent down his spine. Just two strong hands that held him close and stopped the world from spinning.

- - -

Iwaizumi woke with a pounding headache. He cracked one blurry eye to find the bed empty; a glass of water and an aspirin lay on the bedside table. Issei, he thought with a soft smile as fuzzy fragments came back to him of Mattsun guiding him home, pouring him into bed, and running soothing fingers through his hair. 

Slowly, he peeled himself out of the sheets, blinking at the soft light filtering in from the edge of the curtains. He gulped down the pain meds and half the glass of water before he slipped on a pair of baggy sweatpants he found hanging over the edge of the hamper — Matsukawa’s judging by the way they bunched around his ankles. The hem trailed on the floor under his heels as he dragged his feet across the carpet.

Iwaizumi opened the bedroom door to find Oikawa standing on his tiptoes with a sprig of mistletoe in his hand. “Shittykawa, what are you doing?”

“Just decorating for the holiday, Iwa-chan! Doesn’t it look festive?” 

Oh fuck. 

A wave of nausea washed over him as memories of the previous night came back in a rush. Every stupid thing he said sitting at that table the night before crashed into his head. His ears were ringing with the noise, and he braced one hand on the doorframe to steady himself. His head throbbed and he pressed the side of his water glass against one aching temple. 

Had he called Matsukawa Daddy in front of everyone? No. No … he said he wouldn’t call him that. Not unless …

Unless they caught him under the mistletoe. He wrenched his eyes open to glare at Oikawa. Oh gods, he was so screwed. 

Iwaizumi plucked the greenery from Oikawa’s outstretched fingers and smacked him on the back of the head as he continued on into the kitchen, yanking another down from where it hung above the doorway. 

“Ouch! Mean, Iwa-chan!”

“I already told you. You won’t catch me under any stupid mistletoe, so don’t even try,” he mumbled over his shoulder tossing the offending greenery on the countertop and tipping his head back to swallow down the rest of his water. 

“He lives,” Matsukawa grinned over his shoulder from where he stood in front of the stove. “How do you feel?” 

“Like garbage,” he groaned, wrapping his arms around Matsukawa’s waist. “Thanks for the aspirin.” He pressed his bare chest into Matsukawa’s back, comforted by the heat radiating through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. 

Mattsun twisted his shoulders just enough to press a kiss to Iwaizumi’s temple before turning his focus back to his breakfast preparations. 

“So, how much do you remember from last night?” 

“Enough to know why Tooru’s out there redecorating … and enough to know I’m not going to be able to look any of our friends in the eye ever again.”

He pressed his face into Mattsun’s back breathing in the fresh woodsy scent of his cologne as he tried to snuff out the embarrassment he felt coloring his cheeks. 

“Nah, it wasn’t that bad. Definitely not as bad as Kindaichi dancing on the table,” Matsukawa snickered. 

“Kindaichi did what?” They heard a commotion in the next room; Makki and Oikawa’s muffled voices carried in through the open doorway. Iwaizumi sighed against Matsukawa’s shoulder. “They’re scheming aren’t they?”

“You know they are,” Mattsun laughed as he cracked another egg into the pan. The sizzling sound made Iwaizumi’s stomach roil unpleasantly. 

“Of course they are. When aren’t the two of them up to something?” he thought to himself. “I should have kept my big mouth shut. I don’t even want to do … those things ...”  

Fuck, he couldn’t even say the words in his head, how the hell had he been able to shout them in front of every one last night? He knew, vaguely, that Matsukawa, Hanamaki, and Oikawa were more adventureous, but the kinkiest thing he’d ever been involved with was group sex, and that was with the three of them! 

On the surface that may have been more than wild enough for some people, but for Iwaizumi, sex with the men that he loved did not fall even close to the realm of kink. 

“Ugh, I’m never drinking again,” he groaned. 

“Mhmm. Haven’t heard that one before.” 

Iwaizumi pinched Matsuakwa’s side for the sarcastic tone, and even though the resulting laughter was too loud for his pounding head he couldn’t help but smile into his boyfriend’s shoulder. 

They stayed like that for a while with Iwaizumi gripping onto Matsukawa like a koala bear as the taller man fried up enough eggs and breakfast meats to feed a small army. He wasn’t normally handsy like Mattsun, whose touches were casual but ever-present. And he wasn’t clingy like Oikawa or Makki, who could almost always be found draped over one or more of their boyfriends in some way or another. It was only when he really needed to recharge, but when he did they let him cling with nothing but quiet kisses and soft smiles. 

His headache had dulled a bit when Matsukawa turned his chin and spoke over his shoulder in a soft voice. “Hajime, do you want me to tell them to cool it? If you weren’t serious I’ll take care of it.”

He considered the offer. He knew he could handle it himself, Makki and Oikawa would probably get bored with the “bet” and forget about it soon enough anyway, but a small part of him appreciated being the subject of Matsukawa’s protective streak. 

Not that he’d ever admit that.

Iwaizumi shifted his hold around Mattsun’s middle, pressing his forehead against the curve of his shoulder. He opened his mouth to agree, but his response surprised even him. 

“It’s fine,” he mumbled. “Save me some eggs. I’m gonna go shower.” 

“Okay.” 

With one last squeeze he peeled himself away from Matsukawa and wandered in a haze toward the bathroom, pulling down a few more sprigs of mistletoe on his way. 

- - -

Oikawa and Makki had been incredibly thorough when they “decorated”, strategically placing sprigs of green in places that they thought wouldn’t be noticed. It was taped inside cabinet doors, and rolled in the window shade to spring out when it was closed. They had thumbtacked it to the ceiling where they thought Iwaizumi wouldn’t check, and had even tucked some in the freezer between the matcha ice cream and a pack of mixed veggies. 

It didn’t matter. After just a few days he had gotten very good at either avoiding their traps, or avoiding his boyfriends entirely when they were acting suspicious. Moving through the apartment became a well-timed dance around landmines, but it hadn’t blown up in his face yet.

With every trap successfully evaded he found himself thinking about what would happen if they actually did catch him under the mistletoe. He didn’t let his thoughts stray far. Not at first. But every time they did he could feel his face flush hot and a curious electric buzz settled beneath his skin. They would never push him to do something that he wasn’t comfortable with … but then why hadn’t he asked Matsukawa to put a stop to it?

Iwaizumi cycled the questions over and over in his mind, but he didn’t have an answer. When he’d woken up that morning after the dinner, hungover and regretting his life choices, he was certain that he didn’t want any part in the bet. But it was hard not to let his mind wander. 

He’d been between Oikawa and Makki enough times to know exactly what it felt like to have their hands on him — to be taken apart by them. It was even harder to avoid when his boyfriends started hinting at the things they’d like to do to him. 

Each time he found himself alone he’d replay the filthy things they whispered to him. 

When he laid himself out on the bed he shared with Matsukawa, his face buried in Makki’s soiled track clothes. Fucking into the tight ring of his fist while Oikawa’s smug voice echoed in his head. “Look at you, Iwa-chan. You’re already dripping so much. Do you really want to be filled up that badly?”

Under the warm spray of the shower, shoulders leaned hard against the tile the same way he’d lean against Oikawa’s chest. One hand spreading himself open and the other working himself over with quick strokes the same way Makki would as he’d whisper to him. “Feels good doesn’t it, Haji? Imagine how good you’d feel stretched over both our cocks. Filled so full all you can do is take it.”

When he leaned back on the sofa with his eyes squeezed tightly closed and a desperate hand stuffed down the front of his sweatpants, wrist flicking over his slick crown with the phantom hum of Matsukawa’s deep voice speaking praises right against his skin. “You’re perfect Hajime. Like you were made to take all of us.”

He’d think about how Makki’s hand would dip lower to trace around his rim while Tooru fucked into him. He’d remember the heat that pooled in his gut when Makki pressed down, like he might slip his fingers in alongside Tooru’s cock, and the reassuring warmth from Matsukawa’s hands cupping his face as he murmured, “That’s right, baby. We’ll take care of you.”

It tipped him over the edge every time, harder and faster than he cared to admit. 

- - -

Iwaizumi alerted at the sound of the bedroom door closing. He blinked away the edges of sleep, listening to soft footsteps over the carpet and the gentle rustle of fabric as clothing was discarded and tossed toward the hamper. He felt a rush of cool air as the comforter lifted behind him, and he shifted backward against Matsukawa’s bare chest as his boyfriend settled in, humming when a warm arm draped over his waist. 

“Hey,” Matsukawa said quietly. His breath tickled against Iwaizumi’s ear. “Sorry I woke you.”

“Nah, you didn’t,” Iwaizumi mumbled drowsily. He lifted his head from the pillow, seeking out Mattsun’s lips over his shoulder. “Was waiting for you.”

Matsukawa kissed him softly. His lips landed just off center, his eyes not quite adjusted yet to the darkened room. He snaked his bottom arm beneath Iwaizumi’s pillow and tucked him more securely against his chest. 

Iwaizumi let himself be repositioned, another low hum drawn out of him as Matsukawa brushed his hand over his ribs. He followed the line of his body, down over his hip and thigh before drawing his hand back up. Iwaizumi’s eyes and limbs were leaden with sleep, and Mattsun’s petting only made him more drowsy as he timed his movements with the metered rise and fall of Iwaizumi’s chest. Down … and up. Down … and up. 

They talked quietly for a while, Iwaizumi giving short breaths of acknowledgement while Matsuakwa filled him in on his day. He’d always loved these moments when they slipped beneath the covers together after a long day, curled into each other and speaking in hushed tones. It was one of his favorite things to share with his partners, especially with Matsukawa. 

For so long, his understanding of relationships was that the person, the singular person, that you loved was supposed to be your everything. That was why you loved them. Because all their jagged edges were supposed to fit together perfectly with your own. 

But realistically speaking, they were different people, four very different people. So of course it made sense that the relationship he shared with each of them would be different. Iwaizumi loved each one of them with his whole heart, but none of them were what you could call a perfect match. There were things that each of them needed that he couldn’t give to them; things he needed that they didn’t know how to provide. 

And that was okay. 

That realization had been strange at first; the slow acceptance of the idea that one singular person could never truly be everything he needed. That it wasn’t fair for him to expect that of the person he loved. Of the people he loved, because it turned out, his heart was big enough for more than one. The reluctant acceptance that that applied to him as well; that no matter how hard he tried he could never reasonably meet every single need or expectation that his partner(s) had, but it was okay because that wasn’t why they had fallen in love with him to begin with. 

Not that he didn’t still want to try, and he did. He tried so hard to be everything that they needed, but there was a kind of relief in learning that he didn’t always have to be the pillar of strength he’d built himself up to be for every single relationship in his life, romantic or otherwise. 

He didn’t always have to have the right answer. He could allow himself to feel things, to be vulnerable, without fear of being punished for falling outside the mold of what he was supposed to feel, and think, and be. 

Somehow he had always known he’d be by Oikawa’s side, even if he hadn’t always pictured it like this. He had loved him since before he knew what that word meant. They had been a constant in each other’s lives; best friends for as long as he could remember. They understood each other in ways that no one else could even dream of, but when he met Hanamaki he learned what it meant to fall in love. 

And when he did he fell hard and fast for that carefree boy with his ridiculous jokes and coy grins. That boy who disappeared from school one day only to show up the next with bubblegum pink hair that matched the blush on his cheeks when Iwaizumi leaned close and told him quietly, “Pink’s a good color on you.” 

Theirs wasn’t a love built on shared experience, skinned knees and gap-toothed grins, the way it was with Oikawa. But it was all-consuming in a way that he’d never felt before. In a way that left him flustered and scrambling to hide the blush on his own cheeks at the slightest provocation.

It was Makki who made him think about what that fluttery feeling in his chest was each time he watched a rare, honest smile spread across his best friend’s face, or why he’d sometimes find himself at a loss for words when Matsukawa turned to him with a raised eyebrow and teasing grin.

Sometime in their third year his boyfriend had sidled up to him on their walk home. His expression was unreadable except for a tightness at the corners of his eyes that had made Iwaizumi’s chest feel like it was caving in on itself. 

“So Haji, how long?”

“How long ‘til what?” He’d looked at him, confused when Makki shook his head and pressed his lips into a thin line. 

Makki had nodded toward their friends walking side by side a half a block ahead of them. Matsukawa’s arm was slung over Oikawa’s shoulder and even that far away Iwaizumi could see the hint of pink that colored the tips of Oikawa’s ears as Matsukawa had leaned in to brush his lips against his temple and murmured something against the shell of his ear. 

“How long have you been in love with them?” 

Iwaizumi tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. It felt like the floor had fallen out from under his feet. He caught himself just before he fell, and he stood there sputtering and stammering. His face flushed and suddenly his heart was squeezed into his throat. 

He didn’t know how long. That was just his reality. And it had been. For too long. He had tried so hard not to think that way. Those were his best friends. He wasn’t supposed to be in love with them. Not when they were together, and he was with Makki. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about anyone else, and knowing that Makki had figured him out felt horrible. 

He was a bad friend and a worse boyfriend and just as he had been about to spit out an apology, to drop to his knees on the pavement and beg for forgiveness, Makki turned toward him and took his face into his hands. His eyes blazed, but not with anger. 

He leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “Hey Haji … can I tell you a secret?” 

Iwaizumi swallowed hard and nodded once.

“I love you.” 

“Hiro … that’s not a secret,” he mumbled back and the laugh that Makki huffed under his breath made his heart skip a beat for an entirely different reason than before.

“No, but I …” 

Despite being the one to bring it up, Hanamaki looked so nervous that Iwaizumi had wrapped his arms around his waist just to keep him from bolting down the street. Makki bit his lip and knocked his forehead against Iwaizumi’s with a shaky breath. 

“I … love them too. Is that okay?” 

Iwaizumi had pulled him close and kissed him right there in the middle of the street until their friends took notice and shouted at them to hurry up or they’d be left behind. 

It had taken a long time before the fear they had over losing their best friends was outweighed by their want for something more. The sweet ache that tugged at their hearts promising absolute bliss or ruin and nothing in between. But when they finally did confess, Iwaizumi decided his only regret was that they hadn’t done it sooner. 

The four of them pieced together what it meant for them to be together amidst college courses in separate cities, jobs, and Oikawa’s volleyball training. Iwaizumi found that, despite the history he shared with Oikawa and with Makki, it was easiest for him to be vulnerable with Mattsun. He felt safe in a way that he never expected with Matsukawa’s arms wrapped around him and his face tucked into his chest — in a way he never knew he needed, but now couldn’t imagine being without. 

Sleep had started to take hold again, but he was pulled back from his drifting thoughts by Mattsun’s wandering hands. His fingers dug deep into the meat of his thigh before he dragged his palm slowly back up over Iwaizumi’s hip and rib cage. 

He’d started out by following the steady rise and fall of Iwaizumi’s chest, but now Mattsun’s hands set the rhythm, kneading into corded muscle and feathering over dips and curves, lingering over every sensitive patch of skin except for where Iwaizumi wanted him most. 

He was nearly panting when those deft fingers caught on the curve of his hip, dipping into the sensitive crease of his leg as Mattsun moved his hand back down. The sensation forced the breath from his lungs with a low moan as his cock stirred, and he felt Mattsun’s lips curl against the dip of his shoulder. 

“You tease,” he huffed.

“And you love it,” Matsukawa murmured. He shifted and pressed their hips flush together, and Iwaizumi could feel the hard line of Mattsun’s cock grind against him.

He groaned and reached for Mattsun’s hand, guiding it from his waist to the tent in the front of his briefs. “Are you just gonna wind me up, or are you gonna do something about this?” 

“Don’t worry, baby. You know I’ll take care of you.” Matsukawa palmed his cock and nipped at his shoulder. 

Iwaizumi made a strangled sound at the way that deep voice wrapped around him in the darkened room. He just barely managed to cage the wanton sound those words pulled from him behind his teeth, but he couldn’t hide the way his cock twitched in Matsukawa’s grip. 

“Issei … ” He rolled his hips against Mattsun’s hand and then turned his face into the pillow to try and muffle the way his voice had started to catch on his breath, quiet desperate gasps huffed through his clenched teeth into the darkness.

He could feel Mattsun’s grin pressed into his shoulder. Could feel how hard his cock was against the cleft of his ass when he rolled his hips back into his groin. By the time they kicked their underwear down past their knees Iwaizumi was so overwhelmed by sensation that he forgot to hide the moan when Mattsun wrapped a burning hand around him and thrust his spit-slicked cock between his thighs. 

Iwaizumi threw his head back against Matsukawa’s shoulder and twisted his hands into the bedsheets. He rolled his hips, groaning at the not-quite-slick-enough drag, the harsh slap of skin against skin, the simmering heat between his legs that grew higher and higher as Matsukawa made a mess of him. 

It had taken next to nothing for Mattsun to make him come undone, but he had fallen apart just as quickly, panting and groaning as he fucked into Iwaizumi’s thighs. The thick head of Mattsun’s cock nudged against his balls each time he thrust forward, sliding in spit and sweat and precome, and getting sloppier with each thrust. 

He shifted and wrapped a hand around Iwaizumi’s throat, and with his next thrust he squeezed. It wasn’t hard enough to cut off his air, just the slightest hint of pressure, but Iwaizumi cried out, stuttered syllables of Issei’s name and curses as his brain spiraled around one word — yes yes yes yes yes!

“Fuck, Hajime. I want to put a collar on you so bad.” Matsukawa squeezed a little tighter and growled a low breath into his ear. “Make you mine.” 

A collar. 

His brain was still cycling that one word over and over — yes yes yes. He felt so used. Lying on his side with his knees and ankles pressed together, with Mattsun’s slick coating his thighs, and his pleasured grunts and groans fed straight into his ear as Matsukawa took what he needed from him. Used and owned. 

“Fuck — Issei.” He bucked his hips hard, fucking into Matsukawa’s fist, knowing that he could feel the way his pulse fluttered under his hands at the mention of a collar. At the thought of being so thoroughly owned. It had frightened him before — had sounded humiliating, but fuck he wanted it. He wanted it so bad. 

Like he’d heard his thoughts Matsukawa leaned in and whispered, “I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you? A reminder you belong to us.” 

Iwaizumi could hear the grin in his voice. He didn’t trust himself to answer, but it didn’t matter. The way Matsukawa worked him over, he wasn’t looking for an answer. 

“I wonder if you’d be a good boy, or if I’d have to punish you,” Matsukawa teased, but he graciously swiped a thumb over his slit at the same time so they could both pretend that was the reason for Iwaizumi’s whimper. 

He squeezed the hand around his throat again and pressed his lips against his ear. “I think you want to be good for me. Don’t you Hajime? You want me to take care of you. Because good boys get to be filled.” 

Filled. His mind flashed to Oikawa and Hanamaki. 

“Good boys get to come. Don’t you want to come, baby?” 

“Y — yes.” 

“Yes, what?” 

Yes, Daddy, his traitorous brain supplied. “Fuck you.” 

“That doesn’t sound like something a good boy would say.” He loosened his grip on his cock, and Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes closed in frustration at the loss of friction, starbursts flaring against the backs of his eyelids. 

“Good boys ask nicely,” Mattsun prodded. “Come on, precious. Ask nicely.” 

If he were a little more coherent he would have argued, but he was already so close, so desperate with the way Mattsun’s hand still ringed his throat, his heated touch branding him with those words you belong to us. He’d drop a hand to his dick to get himself off, only he knew Mattsun wouldn’t allow it. Knew that even if he did it wouldn’t be as satisfying unless Matsukawa was the one to bring him over the edge. 

“P-please. Issei. Please let me come.”

Matsukawa pressed a searing kiss behind his ear. “Squeeze those legs together for me, baby.” 

As soon as he did Mattsun groaned and tightened his grip, pumping him hard and fast, “Good boy. Now … Come for me Hajime.” 

“Ahh! Da — hnng,“ he bit off the end of the word but it still echoed loudly in his head as his cock twitched and he painted his stomach white. It grew deafening when a few more deep thrusts had Matsukawa spilling between his legs.  

Daddy. 

Daddy! 

DADDY!!

He was so screwed. 

- - -

They didn’t talk about what happened that night. About the mention of the collar, or Iwaizumi’s reaction to it. The mortifying almost slip of the word Daddy. 

It wasn’t that surprising they didn’t talk about it, considering no one had mentioned the bet either. Not since that very first morning when Matsukawa had offered to put an end to it. 

All four of them acted like they had forgotten, even though Hanamaki and Oikawa kept their decorations up, and Iwaizumi kept tearing them down. All the while Matsukawa stood by with an impish grin and a look in his eye that Iwaizumi couldn’t quite name, but that made him feel hot all over. 

The surprising thing was that none of them had ever been so standoffish about a topic. Unless you counted their first confessions or those early days spent feeling out exactly how a relationship with four people was supposed to work — and Iwaizumi definitely wasn’t counting that. 

There was still an element of fear at play, just like there was back then, but this was … different. The stakes definitely weren’t as high, and he trusted them all completely. 

The four of them had learned through years of trial and error that communication was important if they wanted to keep their relationship not just alive — like the sad withered houseplant Hanamaki insisted was alive because it still had some green on it — but thriving. 

Granted, Iwaizumi was still sometimes stubborn about it. They all had their moments when jealousy got the better of them, but they’d never lasted so long with something hanging over their heads like this and he really didn’t like it. It had been months since they had first made the bet. 

A few weeks after the holiday season he noticed that the fresh mistletoe had been swapped out for fake plastic greenery when the fresh stuff became harder to find. At the time, Iwaizumi knew that meant that they weren’t going to forget about the bet and move on as quickly as he had expected them to. 

But the more painfully obvious thing about the switch was that this bet of theirs was still on all of their minds, whether they acknowledged the elephant lurking in the corner of the bedroom or not. 

He told himself over and over that he should just tell them off and be done with it. If he had let Mattsun talk to Makki and Oikawa weeks ago that really would have been the end of it. He knew that. But he had walked away from Matsukawa’s offer. 

And now he‘d been caught with his pants down, so to speak. 

He’d saved himself from disaster, but the more he replayed that moment in his mind, that spine arching toe curling moment that soaked his thighs with Mattsun’s release and blasted his own cum all the way up to his chin, the more certain he was that Matsukawa knew what came next after that first mangled syllable. 

He knew exactly what word was on the tip of Iwaizumi’s tongue. He knew what Iwaizumi hadn’t even known himself from the moment those words had slipped past his drunken lips in that restaurant. 

Iwaizumi wanted it. 

He wanted every single filthy part of that “bet” that he’d drunkenly stumbled into. Needed it. 

He needed all three of them to take him apart in a way they never had before. He needed to be filled and fucked and used and owned in a way that only the three of them could manage. Because the three of them were the only ones he would ever trust enough to give him that. 

So maybe fear wasn’t the right word.

He kicked his feet up on the coffee table and sank back into the couch cushions as he tried to piece it all together. 

Maybe, he thought, the root of this tangled mess of emotions was something more like embarrassment. Because really, how the hell was he supposed to explain to the loves of his life that he wanted them to put a collar on him, put him on his knees, and make him beg like a fucking animal. 

His cheeks glowed hot and he scrubbed a hand over his face with a groan. 

“Iwa-chan, you look flushed.” A cool hand settled on his forehead and he felt the couch dip beside him. “Are you feeling alright?” 

Yep. Embarrassment hit the nail on the head, it seemed. 

“‘M fine,” he grumbled, trying his best to ignore the heat he felt climbing to the tips of his ears. He shifted to wrap his arms around Oikawa, moving so that his boyfriend reclined back against his chest. 

“We don’t have to watch a movie if you don’t feel well. You could go to bed, and I could make you some tea instead.” Oikawa tipped their heads together and laced their fingers over Iwaizumi’s knee. Even though he knew the offer was sincere, Iwaizumi could feel the disappointment in his words. 

He took a breath and shook his head lightly. 

“I’m okay. Really. Just been a little … preoccupied. Hiro and Issei are out shopping or whatever, and I’m not about to miss out on a movie date with you. Even if it means letting you pick the movie.” He grinned and pressed his lips to Oikawa’s cheek. 

“Okay. Good.” Oikawa leaned into him and Iwaizumi watched his long lashes fan over his cheek as he closed his eyes and whispered, “… because I miss you.” 

Iwaizumi’s heart clenched. He could feel how tense Oikawa was, and for the first time he thought maybe he wasn’t the only one upset by their lack of communication. 

“What do you mean you miss me? I know we’ve been a little busy lately, but I’m right here.” 

“Not like that. It’s just,” Oikawa bit his lip and looked away. “You never want to kiss me anymore.” 

Fuck. 

“That’s not true. I always want to kiss you, but ...” Iwaizumi took a deep breath and squeezed their threaded fingers. “But … it feels like you’re always trying to trick me.” 

“Not always!” Oikawa turned toward Iwaizumi with wide eyes. “And Iwa-chan that … That’s not why I want to kiss you.” He cupped his hands over his cheeks, eyes worriedly scanning his face. “You know we’d never do anything —” 

“I know.” Iwaizumi cut him off.

“All you have to do is tell us if you want us to stop. You know that we would, but you haven’t said —” 

“Tooru,” he interrupted again and finally met his gaze. “I know.” 

“O-oh. Wait … you mean …?” 

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if it was possible for a person to blush with their whole body, but he felt like he had turned bright red from the tips of his ears all the way down to his ankles. He cleared his throat. 

“I trust you. I know that isn’t the reason you want to kiss me. I know you’d stop if I asked. I already know all of that. And I’m sorry I made you feel that way … like I don’t want you. I owe Hiro an apology too. I should have just —” Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes closed and took a breath to try and steady himself. 

“Okay,” Oikawa said, tentatively. “And just to be clear, this isn’t you asking us to stop?” 

Iwaizumi peeked his eyes open. Very slowly, he shook his head no, and then he collapsed forward until his forehead collided with Oikawa’s shoulder. 

“If I kiss you now can we please stop talking about this?” He mumbled, the words muffled into the folds of Oikawa’s sweatshirt where he’d buried his face. 

Oikawa draped his arms over his shoulders, and breathed a relieved little sigh into his hairline. 

“Okay, Iwa-chan.” 

Later that evening, when Matsukawa and Hanamaki returned from their shopping date, Iwaizumi pretended not to notice the unmarked paper bag that was spirited away from his curious gaze while Makki put on an impromptu fashion show. 

He pretended not to notice the look in Hanamaki’s eyes, equal parts relieved and surprised, when Iwaizumi apologized for being so distracted — for dodging him and being suspicious of his intentions for so long. It was indirect, but as close as they had gotten to talking about the bet. 

Instead of actually talking about it, because he really didn’t think his heart could handle another full body blush in one day, he pinned Hanamaki to the wall and sealed their mouths together and they kissed until all that tension from before had melted away. 

Until he soothed that ache in his chest that he hadn’t realized was there until Oikawa had whispered to him, 

“I miss you”. 

- - -

Things changed after that, only not in the way he expected. 

Iwaizumi thought that after his (incredibly embarrassing) admission to Oikawa that the intensity of their bet and their attempts to catch him would ratchet up. He thought for sure that they’d take it as a green light to try and force an end to the ridiculous dance they’d trapped themselves in for the last few months, because there was no conceivable way Oikawa was going to keep that secret.

Iwaizumi didn’t want him to. 

But instead of more close encounters the little clusters of mistletoe started disappearing. Slowly, he realized, they weren’t replaced after he removed them, and then all at once they were gone. He didn’t duck away from his boyfriends anymore. Didn’t question their motives when one or more of them would corner him in the apartment with teasing kisses and bedroom eyes. 

It felt … normal. 

It was everything that he’d been missing over the last few months, and yet this was somehow worse. He’d been so full of anxiety when he could feel that stupid bet hanging over everything they did — that declaration a splinter that had pierced his thoughts of never with shocking little perforations of what if. Only now that he’d decided he was ready to face it they had backed off. 

Clearly, it was time for someone to take drastic measures. 

That’s what Iwaizumi told himself as he stared up at the ceiling of their entryway where, pinned above their heads, a bundle of fresh mistletoe swayed lightly in the breeze blowing in from outside. 

The last one in, Matsukawa closed the door behind him. Oikawa slid out of his jacket and hung it on an empty hook. Hanamaki kicked off his shoes and pushed them out of the way against the wall. 

And Iwaizumi stared, unblinking, at the ceiling. 

Matsukawa was probably the first to notice. Iwaizumi caught Makki’s reaction in his periphery as he glanced over his shoulder and then up. 

Oikawa followed his gaze and gasped, his expression flitting between surprise and worry. 

“H-how did that get there?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” Hanamaki shrugged and with one step he was in Iwaizumi’s space. He looked up to the mistletoe, still lightly swaying above them, and then his eyes tracked slowly down to Iwaizumi’s mouth. “But we did catch you. Fair and square.” 

Iwaizumi cleared his throat. 

“Yeah.” 

“You gonna pay up?” Hanamaki tipped his chin, angling closer and surveying Iwaizumi’s reaction with an unreadable expression. 

Iwaizumi’s mouth had gone dry. He felt like he couldn’t breath. It felt like no one was breathing as they waited for his answer. 

He licked his lips and swallowed hard. 

“Yeah,” he said on an exhale. 

Hanamaki’s mouth quirked into a grin and he surged forward, capturing Iwaizumi’s lips in a kiss that was messy and dirty and had Iwaizumi stumbling back toward the door, back against Matsukawa’s chest. 

“Iwa-chan, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want just because of some stupid bet.” 

Hanamaki released him and suddenly it was Oikawa’s big brown eyes looking nervously back at him as he tried to catch his breath. “I don’t know how that got there, but we weren’t trying to trick you,” he insisted. 

“Are you okay with it, Tooru?” 

Iwaizumi clutched at the hem of Oikawa’s shirt. He watched his eyes flash wide for a split second before they narrowed and he said cautiously, “I am. But what you said … the bet … it’s kind of a lot … for you.” 

“We have safe words. I’ll use them if I need them.” Iwaizumi was shocked that he was able to keep his voice steady with how fast his heart was pounding in his chest. 

Oikawa chewed at his lip and nodded. He looked up at the ceiling and smiled as he looked back down and took Iwaizumi’s face into his hands, thumbs brushing tenderly over his cheeks as he slid their mouths together. 

He kissed him, slow and deep, and when he pulled back it left Iwaizumi feeling breathless but much less nervous than he had been when he’d first kicked off his shoes and caught that flash of green over his head. 

Matsukawa’s hand squeezed around his waist and he tipped his head over Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Hajime, are you sure?” 

“Yes,” he turned his head toward him and looked up into Matsukawa’s eyes, but the next word caught in his chest. His eyes slipped closed and he held his breath until ... “Daddy” … a faint imprint of the word, but it felt like he’d shouted the way his bones rattled with it. 

He blinked his eyes open just in time to catch the corner of Matsukawa’s mouth quiver and slowly curl into a grin. 

“Again.”

Iwaizumi took a stuttered breath. “D-daddy,” he whispered.

He tried to tuck his chin and hide his face, but Matsukawa caught him and held him fast. His chest was heaving, and his cheeks were burning, and his cock was already so hard it ached between his legs, and Matsukawa looked down at him and licked his lips like he wanted to devour him right there in the entryway.  

“Again,” he said, low and rough. 

“Daddy!”  

It burst out of him with a desperate sob, and then Matsukawa’s mouth was on him, hot and wet as he pressed him against the wall and gripped at his thighs underneath the mistletoe. 

“Fuck. We’re going to take such good care of you, baby.” 

Hanamaki led him to the bedroom, his bedroom, the one he shared with Mattsun, he realized through the haze that had already settled over his mind. There was still a nervous energy buzzing just under his skin, but it was soothed by the smooth slide of Makki’s lips against his own as he eased him down against familiar bedsheets. 

When Makki moved to kiss down his neck Iwaizumi murmured, “I’m not callin’ you Daddy too, you know.” 

Makki laughed against the hollow of his throat and when he pulled back there was a mischievous sparkle in his eye, “S’okay. That’s more of Issei’s thing.” 

That grin was absolutely unmistakeable. “Hiro … do you call him that?” 

Hanamaki stuck his tongue out and waggled his eyebrows. “I prefer, Sir.”  

He darted forward just in time to swallow down Iwaizumi’s surprised gasp.

In the short time it took the other two to join them Makki kept him distracted. He stripped him of his clothing and laid Iwaizumi back against the pillows like he’d done so many times before, and it calmed the flurry of emotions he felt swirling in his chest — lifted the curtain of haze until warm fingers tapped against his shoulder. 

“Hajime, we got something for you. Can I show you?” 

He blinked up at Matsukawa, “Okay.” 

Matsukawa beckoned to him with one finger, and stepped back into the middle of the room. He pointed down to the floor at his feet. 

“On your knees, Hajime.” 

Issei’s voice had always done things to him, but it was so much more intense coupled with the anticipation of what he knew was to come. That voice, gentle but firm, commanding, not in a harsh way, but in a way that left little room for interpretation, it already had the haze washing back in over the edges of his mind in sweeping waves. It was strange. Everything felt heavy, his eyes and his limbs. Every single breath pulled into his lungs felt like a struggle as he tried to keep from slipping under. 

Iwaizumi dropped to his knees on the rug in front of Matsukawa, and he tipped his head back to look up at him. His chest shook with shallow breaths, and he felt his cock twitch where it strained upward against his belly. His face burned hot when he realized Matsukawa was still fully clothed, his other two boyfriends in various stages of undress. 

“Look at you,” Mattsun cooed down at him fondly and cupped his face in one hand. “Good boy. You’ve never played like this before, so before I give you your gift I need you to listen to me.”

Iwaizumi tried to steady his breathing and focus on Matsukawa’s instructions, but every time he heard those words good boy another wave crashed over him and he was wracked with a full body shiver. He leaned into Mattsun’s touch and nodded his head yes. 

“You remember the safewords?” 

“Stoplights. Green for go, yellow to pause, red to stop.” 

“Good. I’m going to ask you your color. And I’m going to keep asking. You’ve only ever given me green lights, but this is going to be more than what you’re used to. I want you to know it’s okay if you’re yellow or red. I want you to tell me, Hajime. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

He’d never seen that fire in Mattsun’s eyes before, and he realized, looking up at him from the floor, he didn’t feel that same sting of embarrassment when he whispered again, “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to prep you for Hiro and Tooru.” 

He waited for a beat before he added in the same steady, patient tone, “Tell me your color.” 

Iwaizumi didn’t hesitate. Didn’t have to think about it before a little whisper slid off his tongue like a plea. “Green.” 

Matsukawa nodded. “While I do that, you’re going to use that pretty mouth to make sure they’re both hard and wet and ready to take you. Tell me your color.” 

“G-green.”

“After that, Hiro and Tooru are going to fuck you. Tell me your color.” 

“Green. So green,” he sobbed and gasped, almost choking on the words as he felt his cock lurch and leak precome down his already slick shaft. 

Matsukawa reached off to the side, but Iwaizumi couldn’t look away from his eyes without feeling like he might go spiraling off into oblivion, so he held onto that one fixed point of gravity until Mattsun's hand extended toward him. 

He held out a small flat box, almost like a jewelry case he thought, its hinged top left open. Inside was a simple strip of black leather, maybe an inch and a half wide. There were no rings or chains. The only embellishment was a row of widely spaced silver studs and matching silver clasps at the ends. Iwaizumi’s jaw dropped open. It wasn’t adjustable. They had ordered him a custom collar. 

“That’s … for me?” 

“That’s for you, baby. Tell me your color.” 

“Green. C-can I … can you ...?” It was getting hard for him to string together more than two words, but Matsukawa shushed him, smoothing his free hand over his brow and petting through his hair. 

“Do you want to try it on?” he asked. 

“Please. Please, Daddy.” 

“Okay, baby. Close your eyes.” 

As soon as Iwaizumi let his eyes slip closed he felt Matsukawa move. His breath stuttered out of his control again the moment he thought Mattsun’s hand would pull away, but instead of leaving him alone on his knees, Matsukawa let his hand trail over his skin. 

He went from threading his fingers through his hair to tracing along his jaw and down the line of his throat to the dip of his shoulder, never once lifting his hand away and all the while whispering praises. The touch kept him grounded, and he had a brief glimmer of recognition that Matsukawa was weirdly good at this. He knew exactly what Iwaizumi needed. 

“I’m right here. Keep those eyes closed until I say,” Mattsun murmured against the shell of his ear. He crouched behind him on the rug, and wrapped the soft leather around his throat.

As soon as the collar was latched Iwaizumi felt something click into place inside of him. He hadn’t been able to control his trembling hands or his shaky breathing since he first caught sight of that bundle of mistletoe in the hall, but as soon as he felt that steady pressure, the burning chill of the metal as it warmed against his skin, he felt steadied in a way he wasn’t sure he had ever felt before.  

“Thank you,” he whispered under his breath, and Matsukawa pressed a kiss behind his ear. Hands settled against both of his knees, slowly sliding up his thighs and over his chest as Hanamaki and Oikawa took their places beside him. 

“Open your eyes, baby.” 

Iwaizumi obeyed immediately, pulling his eyes into focus with slow heavy blinks, whimpering at what he saw before him. They had moved the big floor length mirror from the other bedroom, and had leaned it up against Iwaizumi’s dresser. He’d never seen himself like this before, surrounded by his lovers. He was a wreck and they had hardly touched him. 

His eyes kept slipping out of focus. Tear tracks stained his face and he was flushed all the way down to his chest where his nipples stood at stiff little peaks. His thighs were trembling and his cock bobbed and twitched, furiously red and dripping obscenely as his eyes settled on the collar that ringed his throat. 

“You get so wrapped up in your head trying to be perfect for us, but look at yourself. You’re already perfect. I can’t believe how lucky we are to have you,” Matsukawa purred against the sensitive hollow behind his ear, just above the edge of the collar, sending ripples of heat down Iwaizumi’s spine. 

“I never thought we’d get to see you like this. And when you think about this later, I want you to remember how pretty you look on your knees for us in nothing but that collar. I want you to remember that you belong to us, Hajime.” 

“You’re ours,” Oikawa whispered to him and pressed a kiss tenderly to his jaw.

“And you’re perfect,” Makki said as he brushed his lips over his shoulder. 

They made him come right there on his knees in front of the mirror. He watched through tear soaked lashes, eyes barely open as they worked together, their hands and mouths moving reverently over every slope of muscle and strip of skin they could reach until he was bucking up into their hands with a broken cry. 

With one orgasm wrung out of him they took him to bed, bent him over and spread him out, face pressed into the mattress and hips angled high into the air as Matsukawa pulled his cheeks apart and teased the tip of his tongue against his hole. He let out a warbled cry and twisted his fists into the bedsheets as he rocked his hips and tried to fuck himself back onto Mattsun’s tongue.  

Oikawa and Hanamaki showered him with attention and when Matsukawa slid two lubed up fingers into him alongside his tongue, the sloppy wet sounds pooling heat in his belly, they cooed praises and sweet words against his damp skin at the desperate sounds he made. 

Every time he started to slip a little too far away Matsukawa brought him back with a gentle, “Tell me your color.” Sometimes it took a few tries for the words to break through the fog. A gentle hand would pet down his spine if he whined a little too sharply. Sweet lips would kiss away his tears. His body was a live wire, every nerve alight with crackling sensitivity under their careful attention, but they kept at least a little part of him tethered. 

Just as he was about to come again, a hand threaded into his hair and pulled him up to his hands and knees. “Not yet, baby. You’ve got a job to do.” 

Without any further prompting Iwaizumi let his jaw fall open. He stuck his tongue out to a chorus of low groans, and he waited for whatever they would give him. 

It felt like a lifetime that they made him wait. It may have only been a few seconds, but once they had their fill of looking the blunt head of someone’s cock was fed over his tongue and past his lips. It slid in until it touched the back of his throat, and then set a steady deep pace as it was thrust over his tongue, only to be replaced moments later by another stretching his lips wide. 

It didn’t matter which one of them it was fucking into him. All that mattered was the searing heat. The velvet slide. The reassuring weight of his collar. The feel of them, heavy against his tongue. The coil of arousal that pulled tighter and tighter and tighter until it snapped and he came hard with four fingers working him open and a cock buried deep in his throat. 

He came to a little while later, draped over Oikawa’s chest. There were gentle fingers stroking through his hair. A warm palm rubbing down his back. And someone … Matsukawa, speaking softly against his temple. “Come on, baby. Come back to us. I need you to tell me your color.” 

Iwaizumi cracked a smile against Oikawa’s chest. “... Green.” 

Matsukawa huffed a laugh that felt cool against his sweat-soaked skin, “Hey there. How do you feel?”

He focused on what he could make out in the fog. Floaty. Tingly. Warm. “S’ good.” 

Another laugh against his temple. “Good, baby. We called yellow to give you a break. Do you know what comes next?” 

He took a slow breath, and then another, coming back to himself a little bit. “Both of them.” 

“Both of them. Do you want to stop?” 

“No.” 

“Are you ready?”

He nodded, and pressed himself up on shaking arms to lock eyes with Oikawa, and before he could slip too far back into reality, before anxiety and doubt had a chance to override all the good things he was feeling, he sank down over his cock.

He dove forward and sealed their lips together, swallowed down Oikawa’s moan and pressed his tongue into his mouth, giving himself a moment to adjust before he rocked his hips experimentally. 

“W-wait, wait,” Oikawa gasped and dug his fingers into Iwaizumi’s hips to hold him steady. “Don’t move just yet. Wait ‘til Hiro’s ready or I won’t … I won’t last.” 

Iwaizumi nodded and glanced over his shoulder toward Hanamaki, who looked just about ready to come undone himself. He pressed against Iwaizumi’s back and nudged the tip of his cock against his entrance. 

“Okay?” Makki hummed against his shoulder. 

He braced himself and nodded quickly. “Please. Want you both. Want you to fill me up.”

Hanamaki tensed his jaw, grinding his teeth together with a rough groan as he rolled his hips and pressed in alongside Oikawa. 

Iwaizumi didn’t remember much after that — split open over two thick cocks while his mouth stretched over a third. Nothing more than the stretch, and the heat, and the ecstasy coursing through him at that feeling of being blissfully impossibly full.  

“Are you back with us?” 

Iwaizumi let his head roll to the side and found Matsukawa’s warm eyes looking back at him. 

“Yeah, think so.” 

He knew he had a dopey grin on his face, but he couldn’t really care when Mattsun was grinning back at him and his bones felt like jello. Even though he was exhausted to his core, he felt more himself than he had in a long time.

“You’re incredible, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa mumbled into his chest, his fingers running absentminded circles over his heart. “Who knew you had such a good little submissive hiding inside you all this time?”

“Shut up.” 

“What? I’m serious! I’ve never seen someone slip into subspace so fast.”

“That’s because Hajime is a good boy. You and Hiro are both brats that make me work for it,” Mattsun told him with a grin. “But that’s okay. You know I like the challenge.” 

Hanamaki snickered where he was tucked into Iwaizumi’s other side, and Oikawa rolled his eyes dramatically, though his grin said that Mattsun was absolutely correct. 

“So which one of you actually put that mistletoe over the door? Because it wasn’t me. I haven’t been able to find the fresh stuff in weeks.” 

Iwaizumi let his eyes slip closed, and tucked his face into Oikawa’s hair to hide the guilty smile he felt tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“Hajime?” Hanamaki propped himself up on his elbow to look Iwaizumi in the eye. “No way. It was you!?” 

“Well, you guys never said anything. I didn’t know how to ask so … desperate times, desperate measures.” 

Hanamaki flopped back down beside him, laughing in disbelief.

“Iwa-chan, we did! We tried so many times, but you were so closed off about it.” 

“I don’t know how to break this to you babe, but …” Makki sighed dramatically and fixed him with a serious expression. “You’ve always been kind of vanilla.” 

They all laughed, Iwaizumi included. 

“This might have technically been your idea, but that was a whole lot of kink for you to process all at once.” Oikawa nuzzled closer, still tracing patterns on his chest that felt suspiciously like little hearts. 

Makki squeezed his arm, “You were totally freaked.” 

“That, and we didn't want you to feel pressured to do it just because we wanted to. It had to be your choice,” Matsukawa said as he petted through his hair. “And now I hope you know you don’t ever have to be afraid to tell us what you need.” 

Iwaizumi nodded, a soft smile on his lips when he mumbled, “You know … it’d be okay if we did that again.” 

Oikawa giggled against his chest and Hanamaki sighed fondly. “Look what you’ve done, Issei. You created a monster. A kinky sex crazed monster.” 

You might be right, Iwaizumi thought to himself, though none of them seemed all that upset about it. 

- - -

Just a little more than a week later, Iwaizumi found himself with a belly full of sake while his friends gave a dramatic retelling of their last dinner gathering where Kindaichi had drunkenly climbed onto the table and danced like he was on center stage at a strip club. 

Or, he tried, from the sound of it, and got tangled in his t-shirt when he tried to yank it off over his head. 

Kindaichi’s whole face was bright red, and it only got worse when Kunimi (who Kindaichi apparently pulled into a steamy make out session when he tried to help free him from his t-shirt prison) reached up to pat him on the back. 

It was cute. But Iwaizumi couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. He threw back the rest of his sake and slammed his cup down on the table, drawing everyone’s attention. “Oi, leave him alone. Who hasn’t gotten tipsy and done something a little embarrassing?” 

“Says the one who, at our last dinner, uncovered his boyfriend’s DP and Daddy kinks. Right in front of my salad,” Yahaba so very helpfully provided. 

Iwaizumi grinned and held his empty cup out toward Watari who was pouring out refills. Kindaichi still looked like he wanted to crawl under the table, but the attention had mostly shifted away from him toward Iwaizumi as the others laughed and agreed. 

He shot a look to his boyfriends out of the corner of his eye, waiting until their friends quieted down and then smiled around the rim of his cup 

“They won that bet, by the way.” 

The table erupted in chaos.