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On The Sidelines

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The elevator dinged. Hanamaki quickly closed his Youtube video and inched closer to his computer, as if intently examining the spreadsheet now stretched across his screen.

It wasn’t time for the mail to be brought up, so it probably wasn’t an intern. The new arrival on the seventh floor could have been Ushijima, who wouldn’t be pleased to find Hanamaki slacking off. It could also be someone else who held some level of authority over him, such as Kuroo from the ninth floor.

It could have been anyone, but if Hanamaki had to guess, he figured it would probably be…

“Good morning, Makki-chan!”

Slowly, Hanamaki looked over his shoulder to find Oikawa leaning in the doorway of his cubicle with his usual hundred-watt smile.

“Hello, Oikawa-san,” said Hanamaki. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Don’t say it with that face,” Oikawa complained. “You act like you’re not even happy to see me.”

“I’m thrilled,” said Hanamaki flatly. “You’re a joy.”

“Yes, thank you!” said Oikawa. “You should tell that to your boss. Iwa-chan seems grumpier than usual lately.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” said Hanamaki. He had to put conscious effort into keeping his face plain. “He’s always in a much better mood after you visit him.”

Oikawa’s face brightened, but immediately afterward his eyes narrowed, as if he suspected Hanamaki was lying. “Is that so?”

“It’s true,” said a voice from the other side of Hanamaki’s cubicle wall. “He’s much friendlier. He practically has a spring in his step.”

Oikawa stared at the wall, behind which Matsukawa was seated in his own cubicle. Then he looked back to Hanamaki with a refreshed smile. “Well then,” said Oikawa, backing away. “I guess I’ll go make Iwa-chan’s day, then. Bye-bye, Makki, Mattsun.”

Hanamaki waited, motionless, until he heard the telling cry of “Iwa-chan!”, followed by the thud of Iwaizumi’s office door. Then he reopened his video and started where he’d left off.

There was a shuffling sound behind him. He glanced up to find Matsukawa rolling through the doorway, kicking himself along in his desk chair. He gave one final push with his toes and settled in the corner of Hanamaki’s small cubicle. Matsukawa lounged back in his chair and pillowed his arms behind his head. “That should give us at least twenty minutes,” he said. The statement was vague, but it was paired with a raised eyebrow that Hanamaki easily interpreted.

He went quiet again, listening. Somewhere to his left, he heard Kunimi talking. Kunimi always sounded a little bored, but his words were clearer, more crisp. That meant he was on the phone with someone important.

Matsukawa shifted forward, but Hanamaki stopped him with a shake of his head.

“Wait until he gets off the phone,” said Hanamaki, keeping his voice quiet. Yahaba, whose cubicle was attached to the front wall of Hanamaki’s, could probably still hear. He wouldn’t interfere, though, so Hanamaki wasn’t concerned.

“It’ll be more fun if we don’t.”

“True,” admitted Hanamaki, “but he’s probably talking to a client.”


“And if they get offended and call Iwaizumi we might get in trouble.”

Matsukawa’s stare was flat. “Are you being responsible right now?”

Hanamaki rolled his eyes. “I just don’t want a lecture.”

Matsukawa’s face didn’t change. “Who even are you?”

Kunimi said a few last words, then his voice faded from the vague background noise of the office.

Matsukawa looked at Hanamaki, who assented with a smirk and a nod.

Matsukawa stood but remained slightly hunched over, so his head wouldn’t be visible from above the low wall of the cubicles. Kunimi’s was located diagonally to the left, an easy throw from Hanamaki’s office.

Matsukawa dug something out of his pocket, pulled his fist back, and then lightly tossed it over the divide.

There was a scuffle, a high-pitched scream, and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

For a moment the two of them just looked at each other, faces blank. Then Matsukawa’s mouth twitched and they both burst into laughter. Hanamaki doubled over on his desk, muffling his chuckles into his forearm. Matsukawa collapsed back into his own chair, an ugly snort punctuating his amusement.

There was movement, a slapping sound, and then Kunimi stood to glare at them over the wall of the cubicle. His eyes were narrow, but his face was red. “Not funny,” he said. Matsukawa and Hanamaki went quiet. They looked at him, then looked at each other.

This time when they started laughing again, Yahaba and Kindaichi joined in.

“All of you shut up,” said Kunimi, sinking back into his cubicle. “You guys suck.”

Hanamaki used the heel of his hand to wipe away a tear beading at the corner of his eye. It had taken them months to figure out what would pull a reaction out of the typically unruffled Kunimi. After much thought and experimentation, Matsukawa had been the one to learn that spiders always did the trick.

This discovery had come from an incident in the seventh floor bathroom, in which Matsukawa had walked in on Kunimi having a small meltdown about being trapped in the bathroom stall. A spider was on the inside of the closed door, and he couldn’t open it without having his hand less than ten centimeters away from the arachnid.

Matsukawa had rescued him, but the price had been steep.

A moment later the plastic spider was tossed back into Hanamaki’s office. Kunimi clearly hadn’t considered the consequences of returning it, namely that it would be used again the following week.

Hanamaki’s phone rang. The last of his humor faded, chased away by a small flicker of dread.

“Shit,” he said, staring at the phone. “He screamed too loud.”

Matsukawa snorted. “As if.”

Hanamaki shushed him and took the call. “Hanamaki Takahiro,” he said, sliding into the faux voice of professionalism that he reserved for clients.

Matsukawa made a snide comment, but it was ignored.

“Hanamaki?” said Iwaizumi. His voice was deeper over the phone. “Is everything alright? Do I need to come out there?”

Hanamaki was suddenly glad that they’d waited for Oikawa to arrive before harassing Kunimi. At any other time, Iwaizumi would have emerged immediately to investigate.

It seemed he was too wrapped up in Oikawa’s company to leave his office.

“Everything is fine, Iwaizumi-san,” said Hanamaki. He shared a look with Matsukawa, a small grin tugging at his lips. “That was only Kunimi. He saw something scary. Probably a mirror.”

Kunimi snapped something that sounded like a curse.

There was a pause on the line. Someone was speaking in the background, a steady stream of conversation unbothered by Kunimi’s shriek. Hanamaki had a feeling that Iwaizumi hadn’t really been listening to his explanation.

“Okay then,” said Iwaizumi, somewhat distantly. “If you’re sure everything is okay.”

“I’m sure,” said Hanamaki. “You can trust me, Iwaizumi-san.”

This time it was Yahaba who snorted, on the other side of the cubicle wall.

“Alright. Thanks, Hanamaki.”

The call ended, and Hanamaki and Matsukawa grinned at each other. There was a satisfied glow about them, the product of a job well done.

It was impossible to get that accomplished feeling just by doing their work assignments.

Yahaba stood and peeked at them over the cubicle wall. “I don’t understand why Iwaizumi thinks so highly of you,” he said, raising an eyebrow at Hanamaki. “Clearly he doesn’t know you very well.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Hanamaki, staring back evenly. “I’m a delight.”

“A delight,” agreed Matsukawa with a nod.

Yahaba rolled his eyes and withdrew.

Matsukawa rolled his chair forward and plucked the plastic spider out of the floor, where it had landed after Kunimi’s clumsy toss. He pinched it between his fingers and said, “Think if we throw it right back he’ll scream again?”

Hanamaki weighed the pros and cons of that. On one hand, Iwaizumi might get irritated with them, but on the other…

He shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”

The coffeemaker on the seventh floor was broken.

Hanamaki knew who’d done it, but he would take the secret to his grave.

When Iwaizumi found out about the malfunction approximately ten minutes after it happened, he was not pleased.

“I should’ve stopped for coffee on my way in,” he said. He frowned at the machine as if the force of his glare would set it right. “Dammit. I’ll just run across the street and-”

“There’s no need, Iwaizumi,” said Hanamaki. “I can go get some from a different floor. It’s not a big deal.”

Iwaizumi’s frown was redirected to Hanamaki. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you get my coffee. You’re not my assistant.”

“I don’t mind,” said Hanamaki with a shrug. “Although since it technically isn’t my job I wouldn’t say no to a tip. Or I guess it would be called a bonus if it’s coming from you.”

“Or I could just bring you some decent coffee in the morning so you can have a break from the shit we brew here.”

“Deal,” said Hanamaki. “I’ll be back in a few.”

After collecting Matsukawa and debating which floor to harass, the two of them stepped onto the elevator. Hanamaki pressed the button that would deliver them to the third floor.

Their arrival was greeted by a sharp, blue-eyed stare.

“Good morning, Kageyama-kun,” said Hanamaki. “We need to borrow some coffee.”

Kageyama’s brow creased. “Sawamura-san is in his office, you can ask-”

“There’s no need,” said Matsukawa, waving him off.

“He won’t mind,” said Hanamaki.

They started toward the table wedged in the corner, on which a microwave and a functional coffeemaker resided.

As Hanamaki poured out three cups of coffee – because he and Matsukawa were certainly going to benefit from the trip downstairs – Hinata bounced over to them.

“Hey!” he said. He had his own coffee mug gripped between his palms, half-full. Hanamaki thought the kid should probably be banned from consuming caffeine. “What are you guys doing down here?”

“Our coffeemaker is broken,” said Matsukawa. He took the cup that Hanamaki offered and dipped into the third floor’s sugar supply. “We thought you wouldn’t mind sharing.”

“Of course not!” said Hinata brightly. “You can come down here anytime!”

“Don’t tell them that,” said Kageyama tersely from the across the room.

“Don’t mind him,” said Hinata. “He’s a bully.”

“I can hear you, dumbass.”

Hanamaki passed another cup to Matsukawa, this one his own. Matsukawa splashed in some cream. Hanamaki liked his coffee with a good helping of cream, no sugar.

He also liked Hinata Shouyou, whom he knew only through a few workplace interactions. The kid was bright and friendly and gullible, which Hanamaki appreciated in a coworker.

“I think I saw you out last weekend,” said Hanamaki as he poured the last cup, this one Iwaizumi’s. It didn’t need any additions. Iwaizumi took his coffee black, like his soul. “Were you at that club where all the college kids hang out? The one close to the university campus?”

Hinata blinked up at him, and then his face broke into a wider grin. “Yes! I went on Saturday. I didn’t see you! Why didn’t you say something?”

“You looked like you were busy,” said Hanamaki. “You were flirting with an adorable little college girl. I didn’t want to cockblock you.”

Hinata flushed red.

Kageyama left his post and walked into the conversation, sharp eyes on Hinata. “Why were you at a college club? You’re too old for that,” he said, voice edged. He looked up at Hanamaki. “You’re even older. Why were you at a college club?”

Hanamaki shrugged. “College girls.”

Matsukawa nodded sagely at his side.

Kageyama squinted at them, as if waiting for the punch line.

“I wasn’t flirting with her,” said Hinata, finally managing to speak past his embarrassment. “I had a class with her during my senior year. We were just catching up.”

Matsukawa raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t look like just catching up to me.”

Kageyama’s eyes cut toward him. “You were there too?”

“College girls,” said Matsukawa, as if it explained everything.

“Next time I’m going alone,” said Hanamaki, taking a sip of the coffee that Matsukawa had prepared for him. It was perfect. “I can never pick up girls when Matsukawa’s there. He’s like a magnet. Must be his devilish good looks.”

Matsukawa shrugged. “It’s the eyebrows,” he said. “They’re irresistible.”

Hinata and Kageyama both looked at him like they weren’t sure if he was joking.

“Tell them about Saturday,” said Hanamaki, nudging Matsukawa with his elbow.

“I don’t like to brag.”

“It’s not bragging if it’s true.”

Matsukawa shrugged again. “Well there was this one girl...”

“And her friend,” added Hanamaki.

“And she wanted me to go home with her.”

“But her friend wanted a piece of Mattsun, too.”

“So I figured they would argue over it,” said Matsukawa, “but then they just agreed that they would share.”

“So Mattsun runs off with them and leaves me by myself because he’s a horrible friend.”

“I invited you to come with us.”

“Yeah, but the girls didn’t seem pleased about it.”

Hinata and Kageyama followed the conversation with wide, awed eyes.

Across the room, someone cleared their throat.

The group glanced over to find Sawamura Daichi standing outside his office, arms folded. “Is it break time already?” he asked.

Hinata and Kageyama almost stumbled over one another in their haste to get back to their cubicles.

Hanamaki managed to hold back his grin. He raised his coffee toward Sawamura, as if saluting him. “We just needed to borrow some coffee,” he said. “Iwaizumi’s orders. Some idiot broke our machine.” Matsukawa slid him a knowing glance.

Sawamura looked skeptical, but didn’t argue. “Borrow all you’d like, but stop distracting my employees. It’s hard enough to keep them on task at the best of times.”

“Sorry about that, Sawamura-san,” said Matsukawa. “We’ll be going.”

They were on the elevator before either of them spoke.

“Did you really see Hinata at the club?” asked Matsukawa.

Hanamaki snorted. “You know I don’t go to clubs. It was a shot in the dark.”

Matsukawa grinned. “Nice.”

“These guys sound boring,” said Hanamaki, flipping through the new employee files that had been sent over from Dateko.

“They all have the same qualifications as you,” said Iwaizumi.

“Maybe we’re boring,” said Matsukawa. He pulled a file out of Hanamaki’s hands to get a closer look.

It was a Sunday afternoon, but the three of them were in the office anyway. The Dateko merger had left them with a lot of work that needed to be done in an impossibly short amount of time. Their new coworkers were scheduled to start working in their office tomorrow, which was ridiculous. They’d barely been given any warning. Hanamaki still wasn’t sure how they’d gotten the new cubicles installed so quickly.

“This one might be interesting,” said Matsukawa, selecting another file. “His degree is in business and art. He actually has an art degree.”

Hanamaki leaned closer to look. “I like him already.”

“Stop judging the new guys,” said Iwaizumi, though the words weren’t stern. “You can’t tell much about them just by looking at their files.” He looked like he wanted to continue, but was interrupted by an insistent buzzing sound as his phone vibrated in his pocket. When he fished it out, he glanced at the screen and then up at his employees. His face looked guarded as he pressed it to his ear and said, “Hello?”

If he’d planned on keeping the identity of his caller a secret, he should have left the room. Oikawa’s voice was clearly audible on the other end, raised in a whining pitch. Hanamaki and Matsukawa shared a smirk.

Iwaizumi talked with Oikawa for a moment. Hanamaki thought about pretending to flip through more files to give him a semblance of privacy, but decided against it. There was no point. It was obvious they were listening. If Iwaizumi cared that much he would walk away.

There wasn’t much to overhear until Iwaizumi said, quietly, “I want to see you, too.”

Hanamaki’s eyes immediately darted to Matsukawa, who was already smirking back at him.

Everyone on the seventh floor already knew that something was brewing between Iwaizumi and Oikawa. It had been obvious for a while, but it was nice to hear the confirmation.

Although the awkward flirting and blatant denial was confirmation enough.

When Iwaizumi ended the call he turned on his employees. “Feel free to work without me,” he said. “It won’t hurt my feelings or anything.”

“So you and Oikawa,” said Mattsun. If he hadn’t said it, Hanamaki would have. “We all suspected something was going on, but it’s really true. Unbelievable.”

“Nothing’s going on,” said Iwaizumi, glancing away. It didn’t sound convincing. “We’re friends.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa shared another look.

“Friends,” repeated Iwaizumi. “Just like the two of you.”

Matsukawa snorted. Hanamaki’s face didn’t change. “Just like us,” he said. “Sure.”

Iwaizumi started talking about something else, and it was probably work-related.

Hanamaki tuned him out, too fixated on his own internal humor as he met Matsukawa’s eyes.

Iwaizumi had no idea what he was comparing himself to.

When Hanamaki stepped out of Iwaizumi’s office on Friday morning, he looked exactly the same as when he’d entered. His face was impassive, concealing the spark of anticipation that burned in his bones. He paused at Matsukawa’s cubicle and waited by the door until he was acknowledged.

“I just overheard Iwaizumi on the phone with Oikawa,” he said quietly. “They’re going to lunch together. He’ll probably be gone in…” Hanamaki checked his watch. “Five to seven minutes.”

Matsukawa sat a little straighter. “You want to?”

“If you do.”

Matsukawa pawed around in his desk drawer and slipped something into his pocket before standing. “I’ll be ready in five.”

Hanamaki returned to his own cubicle, though he couldn’t focus on his work. It was nearly lunch time anyway. He couldn’t accomplish anything of consequence in the next few minutes, although he did have a rather significant stack of work he needed to catch up on. He’d been responsible for training Semi for the past week. He didn’t really mind, despite Semi’s occasional attitude, but it did mean he was falling behind on some of his assignments. He might have to put in a few extra hours that evening.

A moment later Iwaizumi passed by, and work became the least of Hanamaki’s concerns.

“I’m going out for lunch,” said Iwaizumi. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Enjoy your lunch,” said Hanamaki in a voice that was surprisingly normal, despite the buzz beneath his skin. “Tell Oikawa hi.”

Iwaizumi scowled at him, but chose not to comment.

Less than a minute later Iwaizumi was on the elevator, Matsukawa had returned, and Hanamaki was slipping out of his cubicle to unlock Iwaizumi’s office with his spare key.

He’d just taken a seat in Iwaizumi’s chair when Matsukawa crept inside and closed the door gently behind him. He clicked the lock into place to prevent any of their fellow employees from interrupting. The blinds on all of the office windows were closed, granting them a measure of privacy.

Hanamaki propped his elbows on Iwaizumi’s desk and raised a brow. “It’s about time, Matsukawa-kun. I’ve been waiting.”

Matsukawa dipped into a bow, face blank. “I apologize, Hanamaki-san. I got held up.”

“Your excuses mean nothing,” said Hanamaki flatly. He leaned back in the chair, fingers steepled in front of him. “I gave you clear instructions. Can’t you follow instructions?”

“Of course I can.”

“Prove it, then,” said Hanamaki. He rolled the chair back a little, away from the desk. “Come here, Matsukawa-kun.”

Obediently, Matsukawa strode across the office and came to a stop in front of him.

Hanamaki stared up, still expressionless. “Get on your knees.”

Matsukawa hit the floor without hesitation.

The corner of Hanamaki’s mouth curled into a grin. “Suck me off, and make it good.”

“Of course, Hanamaki-san,” said Matsukawa, his mouth twisting around an answering grin.

He unbuttoned Hanamaki’s slacks with practiced ease. A moment later he was bobbing up and down on Hanamaki’s dick, hands gripping muscled thighs.

Hanamaki watched with his eyes half-closed, little pants escaping through parted lips.

“You know,” he said, a little breathless, “I think you deserve a raise.”

Matsukawa pulled him in deeper and tilted his head back to seek eye contact. He raised a brow and sucked, hard.

Hanamaki’s fingers spasmed around the armrests of Iwaizumi’s desk chair.

Matsukawa started moving again, up and down, tongue working with the motion. Hanamaki shifted a little, slipped his foot between Matsukawa’s legs, and pressed up.

Matsukawa moaned around his dick, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Pull off,” said Hanamaki. He gently tugged his fingers through Matsukawa’s hair to make sure he complied. “Bend over the desk.”

Matsukawa popped off of Hanamaki’s cock and grinned up at him. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“I’m not asking.” Hanamaki leaned down to kiss him. It was open-mouthed, all tongues and teeth. When he pulled back, his bottom lip was red from Matsukawa’s bite. “It’s an order.”

Matsukawa rose to his feet and started working at his belt. It didn’t take him long to slide it loose, and by that time Hanamaki was already pulling at the zipper of his slacks. They dropped to his ankles and Hanamaki spun him around and pushed him closer to the desk.

Matsukawa complied, shuffling awkwardly with his pants pooled around his feet. He bent at the waist and rested his elbows on Iwaizumi’s desk, heedless of the paperwork spread across the surface. He looked over his shoulder at Hanamaki, who was taking a moment to appreciate the view.

“Did you bring a condom?”

“Pocket,” said Matsukawa, moving his left foot.

Hanamaki knelt to retrieve it. On his way back up he nipped at Matsukawa’s left ass cheek.

“You sure you’re ready?” said Hanamaki. “You were only in the bathroom for two minutes.”

“I was in there for eight,” corrected Matsukawa. “It would have been less but somebody came in to piss and I had to stop. I was two fingers deep and I couldn’t pull out because I thought they might hear. It was a little awkward.”

“Sounds hot,” said Hanamaki, as he rolled the condom on. “It was probably that new guy you’ve been training. I think he went to the bathroom while you were gone.”

“Tendou,” said Matsukawa. He spread his legs a little wider, swaying his hips in invitation. “I should’ve asked him to help. He has long fingers.”

“You’re deplorable, Mattsun.”

Matsukawa grinned over his shoulder. “You love it.”

Hanamaki lined himself up. “You sure you’re ready?” he repeated.

“I’m sure.”

Hanamaki didn’t question him. He pressed against Matsukawa and slid inside with little resistance. They released a low moan in unison, pleasure sparking from the contact. Hanamaki curled his body over Matsukawa’s, his chest pressing against Mattsun’s back. “Do you think Iwaizumi would fire us?” he whispered. “If we got caught?”

“Nah,” said Matsukawa. He exhaled, trying to accustom himself to the stretch. “He’d probably just want to jump in. We’re irresistible, you know.”

Hanamaki dropped a kiss at the base of Matsukawa’s neck. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.”

Hanamaki straightened and wrapped his hands around Matsukawa’s hips. He was warm and strong, and Hanamaki’s dick throbbed from the mere thought of him.

“You definitely deserve a raise,” said Hanamaki. Then he was pulling back and thrusting forward, repeatedly, the slap of skin against skin the only sound in the borrowed office.

Matsukawa held himself up on his forearms, head bowed. His teeth were pressed together against the symphony of moans begging to escape his mouth.

They knew firsthand how thin the walls of Iwaizumi’s office were. On more than one occasion they’d heard Iwaizumi yelling at Oikawa from behind the closed door.

If Matsukawa let a groan slip, one of the other employees beyond the office might hear. As thrilling as it was to know that they could be found out, the idea of getting fired wasn’t as appealing.

Hanamaki’s grip tightened as he started pumping harder. “You were right,” he said between thrusts. “This is empowering.”

“I told you,” said Matsukawa through gritted teeth. When they’d done this two weeks ago, Hanamaki had been the one bent over Iwaizumi’s desk.

Hanamaki pried one of his hands away from Matsukawa’s hip. He slid it around to Matsukawa’s stomach, then dipped down to grip his dick.

A low moan escaped Matsukawa’s throat, despite his best effort to stop it.

“Stop touching me for a minute,” said Matsukawa, squeezing out the words. “You come first.”

Hanamaki made a sound of discontent but obeyed, withdrawing his hand. He thrust into Matsukawa until his movements became irregular and his breath burst through his lips. He came with a cry that he muffled in Matsukawa’s shoulder, fingers clenching so tightly around Mattsun’s hips that it would probably bruise.

For a moment he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he pulled out and took a step back.

Matsukawa straightened from his bowed position. He rolled his shoulders once, working out the stiffness, and then gripped his own dick. With a frown he dipped his fingers behind himself, seeking the aid of leftover lube. Then he started stroking himself in earnest. He plopped his other hand onto Hanamaki’s shoulder, who obediently dropped to his knees.

Matsukawa clenched his fingers in the back of Hanamaki’s hair and Makki sucked on the tip of his dick until he came. Matsukawa pressed his lips together to keep from shouting. His back bowed over Hanamaki as he pumped himself dry, face scrunched up like he was in pain.

Hanamaki sucked his dick clean, swallowed neatly, and licked his lips as he looked up at Matsukawa.

“That was a lot,” he said conversationally. “When was the last time you got off?”

“I don’t know, three days or so?”

“That’s unhealthy, Mattsun. You should’ve said something. I would’ve blown you in the bathroom.”

“Last time you did that Watari almost caught us,” said Matsukawa. He knelt to pull his pants up, the task made more difficult by his mild, post-orgasmic shaking.

“I know,” said Hanamaki wistfully. He stood and tucked himself back into his slacks. “It was fun, wasn’t it? Can you imagine his face if he’d seen?”

Matsukawa grinned. “He would’ve shit himself.”

“Good thing we were in the bathroom.”

They shared a laugh. Hanamaki returned Iwaizumi’s desk chair to its proper place, and the two of them discreetly left the office.

A couple of their coworkers had remained on the seventh floor for their lunch break. The sound of rustling papers and a solo typist drifted through the thin walls of the cubicles. Whoever was present, however, didn’t notice Matsukawa and Hanamaki as they crept into the elevator to go grab a quick lunch.

They were both starving. Defiling their boss’s office took a lot of energy.

When they returned from lunch, Hanamaki carried a sheaf of papers to Iwaizumi’s office. The door was standing open, but he knocked on the wall anyway. “Iwaizumi? I need you to sign off on these reports.”

“Come on in,” said Iwaizumi, although he didn’t even look up. He was busy sorting through the piles of paperwork on his desk, frowning.

Hanamaki watched him, expression unchanging. “Is something wrong?”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “Not really. I just feel like my papers got shuffled around. Everything is out of place.”

“Oikawa was probably messing around when you weren’t looking,” said Hanamaki helpfully. “He does things like that.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Thanks, Makki.”

Hanamaki remained impassive. “Anytime, Iwaizumi-san.”