Work Text:
Oikawa always had a flare for being great. Call it an urge, ambition, drive, or a compulsion, but anything short of greatness was a failure. Worthless pride didn’t mean anything if he didn’t exceed the expectations. When Kageyama and his monster partner crowned him the Great King, he took a moment to revel in it, but there was an itch settled right beneath his skin, telling him that he could be more.
Oikawa stared at the mirror. The person looking back at him was wearing a skirt. His sister’s skirt, to be exact. She had left it when she went to college, and his parents were out of town for the weekend, and somehow it was 11pm at night and he was in his sister’s room wearing her skirt. He stared at the mirror and met his eyes. They looked darker with the contrast of the black fabric. His leg muscles were visible in a way that was different than when he wore his volleyball shorts. He looked for a very long time, and then took it off and went to sleep.
In the privacy of his darkened room, at an hour where he was surely the only one awake in the world, he let himself imagine. What if, in another life, another universe far away, he was a girl? And he let himself feel it, and for one second believe it. He was tall and beautiful and divine, and strength that ran deep. His eyes flashed in the darkness, and he pulled his phone off the charger violently to put on some music. But the next day when he sat in class, his brain kept on switching perspectives, looking at each of his classmates and imagining. His mind had figured out how to adjust the radio frequency, and the effects were out of his control.
The four shoved each other into the sticky booth in the back of the dingy karaoke bar. Four stamps adorned their hands to mark them as underage and ineligible for drinks. Oikawa gazed at the black high heeled boot marked on his skin.
“Bro, you good?” Matsukawa raised his eyebrows.
Hanamaki elbowed him and stage-whispered, “He’s totally scheming.”
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, “Stop overthinking it.” He squeezed his leg under the table.
Tooru looked up and blinked slowly. “How dare you. When have I ever schemed? You wound me.” He switched open his camera and checked his hair, “Besides, I was the one who suggested this.”
Truthfully, he was not sure if he wanted to stick to his suggestion, but it was too late and he wasn’t going to back down. Iwaizumi’s hand rested on the top of his leg, and Tooru felt very normal about it. Yes. Very normal.
He hadn’t ever really officially come out to the team, but one day in high school his fan club of girls began to include guys, and he didn’t say anything against it. He took all the confessions seriously, regardless of gender, or as serious as he usually did, which wasn’t really that serious at all, but nevertheless the team understood the message. They never really talked about it, but just started including both in their conversations about his love life. So when Matsukawa was talking about drag brunch before practice, Tooru offhandedly mentioned that a boy from his class had told him about a bar a town over that did drag shows. Honestly, he hadn’t really been paying attention and had just wanted to flex his knowledge and the overflowing adoration of his classmates, but then one thing became another and suddenly they were on the subway.
None of them had ever been to a gay bar or a drag show. He wasn’t even sure if the other three were gay, but the general spirit was positive so he put it out of his mind.
His phone camera showed that his hair was still stuck in the swooping waves he’d styled in his bathroom. His eyes were outlined in dark eyeliner that was a little smudged, but he kind of liked it. Iwaizumi had called him pretty when he’d picked him up to walk to the station together, and it felt like a genuine compliment instead of the usual backhanded insult.
Suddenly, the speakers crackled to life.
A queen in a silky floor-length blue gown took the stage, “Hi y’all, I won’t waste too much time on introductions since you’re all pretty familiar here and we’ve got a packed night, but I just want to say welcome baby.” Her voice drawled the pet name like she knew her effect on the audience, and Oikawa’s heart sang. She looked at the four of them and smiled, “I see some new faces here tonight too, so make sure to enjoy the show.” And without hesitation, she sashayed off stage left, and the music started from the speakers.
Oikawa could not recall a single queen’s name or a single song that played. He felt high and divine. He felt like maybe god lived in disco lights, and maybe god lived in the spaces between him and every other patron in the bar. He cringed at his own sappiness, but he let himself feel it. He understood why people chased this high.
The music faded out with the last performance, and the first queen came back on stage. “What a night folks. Did we have fun?” The audience cheered and whistled. She laughed, “That’s right. Unfortunately, it’s closing time, so you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.” She winked at the couple in the front row, where one was sitting on the other’s lap. “Let’s hear one more round of applause for our queens!” The crowd cheered and snapped, and when the noise died down the patrons began to dissipate. The four began to collect their stuff to leave and settle their bill.
Oikawa stood up, “I’m going to use the bathroom before we leave.”
The rest of the group nodded as he walked off to the sign for the restroom. He finished his business and stood at the sink washing his hands, when the queen that did the emceeing opened the stall behind him. She switched on the tap next to him.
“Hi love. First time here, right?”
Oikawa gave her his most charming smile. “First of many, of course.”
She cackled and swatted playfully at his hair. He felt like he was being mothered and his chest warmed at the thought. “Such flattery. Well, if you want to meet any of the queens, they’re usually open to talking to any of the young folk that come here. Positive role models and all that jazz.”
He grinned. “Normally I’d love to, but my friends are waiting and I shouldn’t keep them for too long.”
She nodded in understanding. “Next time then. Sorry, I forgot to ask, what’s your name?”
“Oikawa Tooru.”
She hummed, “Fitting. What are your pronouns?”
He stared. “Uh,”
He liked he/him, but he had been thinking about other things. He liked she/her. And he thought they/them was fine too. And he could say all pronouns, but he had never said that before. And normally he didn’t mind lying, because he truly was a schemer at heart, and really it wasn’t lying if it was only to one person and true at the time, but he also felt like maybe it was morally wrong to lie to a drag queen, but then again she probably wouldn’t care, but what if she did?
It had been way too long.
The silence stretched uncomfortably. He laughed awkwardly and pulled on the ends of his hair.
She nodded, “Want me to move on?”
He smiled, but he feared it looked pained. “Please.”
“Okay.” She smiled, and the warmth seeped out like honey in hot water. “You’re always welcome here if you want to talk. Anyways, I need to get out of these spanx, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be taking my leave. Have a wonderful night, Oikawa, dear.”
“You too.”
He laughed to himself when she left, a little manic and very much alive.
Hinata leaned over the bar with unabashed confidence and shouted at the bartender in Portuguese, “Two shots please.” He turned and smiled dopily, “Only the best for the Great King.”
Oikawa smiled at his antics, but his heart wasn’t in it and the alcohol was numbing his senses. He slumped and let his head loll on the counter. He looked up at Shoyo’s head, haloed by the colorful club lights. His hair glowed in a sort of crown wherever he went. “What if I wasn’t a king?” he mused.
Hinata steadied himself on the bar. His pupils were blown wide and unfocused, but he gripped the sides on Oikawa’s face and made him face him.
“Even if you weren’t the king, you’d still be the greatest.” He grabbed the shots from the bartender and shoved one into Oikawa’s palm before linking their arms, “Drink.”
Oikawa held onto the seriousness in Shoyo’s eyes and took the shot. Neither one broke eye contact. He grimaced at the burn and shook his head. “Tobio better propose to you the minute you get back on Japanese soil.”
Hinata grinned wide, “No, I’m going first. I’m going to beat him.”
Oikawa could only stare at him and drink in that insatiable energy.
“Iwa-chan, have you ever questioned your gender identity?”
Iwaizumi wrapped his arms tighter around Tooru’s torso under the covers. The California morning sun peeked through the dorm room blinds and he buried his head into the crook of his neck to hide from the light. Oikawa laughed quietly at his boyfriend.
“Not really. Why?”
“I don’t know, I was just thinking about it.”
“I mean, it’s all kind of made up anyways.” Iwaizumi scoffed gruffly. “Your anatomy doesn’t determine gender and anyone can wear anything, so it’s just how you feel, I guess.” He tickled Oikawa’s side and Oikawa swatted back at his hands.
“So you’ve never thought about using other pronouns?”
“I mean, when I first got to California I thought about using he/they to let people know I was gay, since I don’t really care either way and I look pretty straight, but it wasn’t really about my gender so I didn’t. Have you?”
“I mean yeah, like everyone does. I like he/him, because I’ve always been a pretty man,” he turned and wiggled his eyebrows at Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes but still chuckled. “But one of my teammates in Argentina uses they/them for me since I think somehow he thought that was what I used, and it’s fine. And when we were kids I really wanted to be those girl cartoon characters in that show we watched. But I don’t know if that really means anything.”
Iwaizumi shrugged and tugged back more of the blanket. “Yeah, I don’t know either. It doesn’t have to mean anything unless you want it to.”
Oikawa leaned up and kissed his cheek softly. When he pulled back he gazed at Iwaizumi’s dark eyes and the openness in them. He smiled, “Wow, what would the team say if they could hear you like this? Your mean reputation would be ruined.” Iwaizumi shoved him, and before long it devolved into a wrestling match, until eventually Oikawa fell off the bed and they decided to make breakfast.
Oikawa stood on the edge of the court, lined up with the other players for the Argentianian national volleyball team. They were first in line as the starting setter, but most of the others they recognized from around the professional circuit. A few had returned from playing overseas, and they were thrumming with excitement about the lineup. They tried to center themself and remember that this was just the beginning on the trip to the Olympics.
“Alright, that’s it for my introduction. I’m excited for the season. We’ll go through your guys' introductions, explain the paperwork we need by the end of the week and some of the finer details of the schedule, and then start on warm-ups and actual practice,” finished Coach. “Oikawa, would you like to start us off?”
“I’d be honoured to, Coach.” They smiled with a charm that Coach had long since grown immune to, “Hi all, I’ll be your starting setter this season. I’m Oikawa Tooru, raised in Japan and playing for San Jose now. I use all pronouns. I’m looking forward to winning gold with you guys.” They smiled a razor-sharp smile that they knew showed the seriousness under their flippant facade.
The rest of the team smiled back hungrily and clapped. Their teammates from San Jose whistled with pride, and Oikawa blinked at the display. They never could calculate the faith of their teammates, even after all these years, and it swept them off their feet every time. They tucked the feeling away, and grinned to themself. It was going to be a great season.
“I fly out tomorrow,” Oikawa replied to the Facetime call, as he packed his suitcase. He had already packed the jerseys and volleyball gear, but he was debating on how many casual clothes he’d need and what type of events he’d be going to during the week they were in Japan for the Olympics.
“We’ll be waiting at the airport. We’ll make sure to bring a sign and everything,” Hanamaki said, with an evil smirk.
“Yeah, you won’t miss us,” Matsukawa added.
Oikawa shuddered. She was sure she’d regret it, but she was excited to see these fools.
“I’ll be with the team at the court when you fly in, so I won’t see you until later, but I’ll meet you at your hotel as soon as I’m done.” Iwaizumi said.
“You better. Then again, I could go visit some of our old teammates and catch up,” she said innocently.
“Tooru, I swear to god if you try to mess with my team ahead of the games I’ll drag you off the court myself.”
Oikawa laughed loudly. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll see them later anyways.”
Hanamaki sighed, “Anyways bro, it’s late there, so we’ll let you go and finish packing.”
Oikawa nodded. “Yeah, I should have started this earlier, but it’s too late now,” he paused, “Also, not that it’s a big deal or anything, but I’ve been meaning to tell you guys that I've been using all pronouns now.”
She hesitated to watch their reactions. Hajime already knew, and she hadn’t wanted to make a big deal out of telling the rest of them, but there wasn’t really a casual way to go about things like this.
Matsukawa nodded sagely, “That makes sense for you.”
Oikawa scoffed with exaggerated outrage, “The fuck does that mean?”
Hanamaki nodded, “Yeah, he’s right. You’ve always been too beautiful to be put in a box. You’ve always been something more,” he gestured vaguely.
Suddenly she felt like tearing up. She sniffled and tried to play it off, “I’ve always been a star.” She flipped her hair back dramatically.
Iwaizumi gave them a knowing look through the screen, “Caution, you’re gonna give them a big head,” he gave them a sharp look with smiling eyes, “Star or not, you need to get packing.”
“Iwa-chan, you’re so responsible. I totally understand why all of Japan’s team is in love with you.”
“Oh my god, you’re so fucking jealous, shitty-kawa. I’m hanging up. Pack your stuff so I can see you tomorrow.” He smiled, “I love you.”
“Okay gross, we’re hanging up too,” Matsukawa added.
“I love you guys too. See you tomorrow.”
He smiled and set to work packing up the rest of his things.
Oikawa stared up at the dark ceiling of the hotel room and breathed deep. Iwaizumi was snoring quietly beside him, and the alarm clock read 4 in the morning. His gold medal glistened on the nightstand. The rest of the team would be flying out in the morning, but he was staying longer to visit family and see Hajime. He let himself savor it for a moment; he had broken the highest ceiling in his field, and the rest of his life lay open in front of him, whenever he was ready. He was in love with his best friend who loved him back, and he had people who loved him across multiple continents. And they loved all of him, in the things they understood and the things they didn’t. They just saw and loved him unconditionally. There was more to chase, but in this peaceful moment, he let himself feel the full weight of everything and everyone who’d been there for him through the journey, and drifted off to sleep without a care in the world.