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The 2020 Tokyo Olympics had ended. Or at least it had for the Olympic volleyball teams. Team Argentina and team Japan had faced off in a match that seemed to drag on the entire day. In the end, despite being the visitor team, team Argentina took the stadium, and as far as they players were concerned, the world, by storm. The scores were close at the end but everyone couldn’t help feeling as if they had been completely demolished by the South American team as soon as the last whistle blew. The team carried their traitor setter above their heads like a god once they felt the cool sting of their golden medals fall around their necks. In volleyball, Oikawa Tooru was a god. As soon as he joined team Argentina he passed every team they faced like filth between the crevices of his shoe. Every time team Japan saw the man on TV he was baring his sickeningly white teeth in a smile that only a victor could possess with a team of men who completely adored him practically kneeling at his presence behind him.
-
Bokuto Koutaro, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shoyou, Atsumu Miya, Ushijima Wakatoshi, and all of their close friends and teammates found themselves crowding the back of their local bar. It was the one they always went to after a win. Tonight they weren’t here to celebrate though, instead they were rather dramatically mourning their loss.
Bokuto seemed to be moping on top the silver medal in his palm, his lover leaning over the back of the booth beside him with a hand on his shoulder. There wasn’t much even Akaashi could say to pacify the hitter after the loss they had just witnessed and everything that came with it. Even the team’s ball of energy, Hinata, seemed stuck in his thoughts.
“Look man, it’s not so bad. You can always win next time” Kuroo attempted to smile, nudging Bokuto with his elbow.
“I haven’t seen him in half a decade. And he just- he just- he was incredible.” The renowned athletic trainer’s voice died off. Iwaizumi looked down at his whitening knuckles wrapped around a glass of beer. He seemed stunned rather than upset.
Kageyama nodded his head solemenly. Despite his frown his eyes lit up a bit at the reminder. “I didn’t know he could get any better. And did you see that last set? I thought we had it. I was so sure. How can someone even think that fast let alone move like that.”
Hinata chirped up at that, “It was crazy! He looked even faster than me for a second! And that save in the sceond set? I’ve never even seen a libero pull off something as impressive as that!” Hinata and a few of the others were now rambling on a bit excitedly.
Amongst their chatter, a new voice lit up from the dimly lit stage on the other side of the room. Team Argentina was huddled around the stage, pushing and jesting at one another happily. They seemed to all be helping - or more accurately, throwing - a certain brunette up on the stage.
“Alright alright! I’ll do it” Oikawa laughed out to his team.
Oikawa stumbled up on the stage, with his jersey now missing from his chest, someone’s sock in his hand, - which he promptly removed - and only one shoe left it was clear he had had a few drinks. Oikawa pulled the microphone up to his level.
“Uh testing testing or something” he mouthed into the mic, his voice carrying through the crowded bar.
“Cap says i should dance something in honor of our much deserved win.” Oikawa’s face split into a grin that threatened to break the creases in his cheeks.
A few boos and shakes of disappointment followed but they were easily covered by team Argentina’s cheers
-
“Well I'll be damned - talk about man of the hour.” Atsumu mumbled aloud.
Atsumu was stuck staring at the stage along with Ushijima and much of their group. The ones who weren’t didn’t take long to notice and look over as well.
-
Oikawa was now on a stage full with his fellow teammates. If there were one or two more people it would’ve looked like he had brought the entire dance floor on stage with him. His captain and what was presumably the libero crowded the mic, now pushed to the left of the stage.
And before any of team Japan could process it, they were singing Mujeriego by Castro. Every other word seemed a few notes off-key but the team was having fun and as Oikawa’s voice joined in they all blended together.
Por culpa de la calle, el dinero y el alcohol
And god could Oikawa dance
Me volví mujeriego, perdóname, Señor
Iwaizumi was in complete awe. His jaw went slack at the sight. Kageyama a few seats away from him seemed even more bewildered. Oikawa fucking Tooru.
Ay-ay-ay, soy un mujeriego
At-ay-ay, y yo nunca lo niego
Cuando me robo a una, chao y hasta luego
Ay-ay-ay, me gritan “Mujeriego”
“Looks like he picked up a little more than volleyball skills from his time over there.” Atsumu whistled, leaning into Sakusa’s side with a glass of alcohol in his hand.
Todas las veo buenas si bebo ron
Oh. My. God.
And suddenly Oikawa was down and up again. His hands on his chest one second and gripping his hips the next. He was everywhere and his face was as serene as a figure skater on their first jump. This was natural for him
La blanquita y la morena, si bebo ron
“How many times do you think he’s done that for it too be so.. so smooth?” Hinata motioned to the stage in astonishment.
“Hell if I know” Iwaizumi yapped.
La gordita cara 'e tierna, si bebo ron
Oikawa didn’t have a lot to shake but you’d be hard-pressed to say he couldn’t shake the hell out of it.
La flaquita cara 'e Barbie bailando en el balcón
“I didn’t even know it was possible to roll your ass like that” Sakusa mused, rather out of character to his usual indifference.
Ay-ay-ay, soy un mujeriego
Ay-ay-ay, y yo nunca lo niego
“I thought I had been surprised sufficiently for the day.”
“Seems you thought wrong, Miracle boy.” Tendou took a long swig from the other man’s glass.
Cuando me robo a una, chao y hasta luego
Ay-ay-ay, me gritan "Mujeriego"
“Is he… He’s clapping his- oh my god.” Bokuto squealed, glancing over at Oikawa like he was a forbidden slice of cake through his hands.
¡Mujeriego!
Oikawa fucking Tooru. When he was there, no one could shake his presence. No one could ignore him. He begged everyone’s attention unforgivingly. He shook and rolled and twisted and sang with every gasp of air in his lungs and it was beautiful. Oikawa was beautiful.
me gusta vacilar
¡Mujeriego!, yo te saco a bailar
And suddenly his back was pressed against one of the other players. He grinded against the bigger man.
¡Mujeriego!, la vecina está buena
They spun and suddenly they were moving back and forth, dancing in tandem.
¡Mujeriego!, yo ya le cogí la vena
Bokuto was glaring, to put it lightly. He was practically foaming at the mouth. And Iwaizumi, the only one who could’ve likey snapped him out of it was already a quarter of the way to the stage. So instead the rest of the team followed after him, some of them trying to holler Iwaizumi down but the rest with the same mind as him.
Por culpa de la calle, el dinero y el alcohol
Me volví mujeriego, perdóname, Señor
In a second Oikawa was yanked off the stage by two calloused pairs of hands faster than he had got on.
With all the alcohol in his system he just laughed. The rest of team Argentina did as well. The singing persisted.
Ay-ay-ay, soy un mujeriego