Things went back to normal between them. At least, as normal as anything could be trapped inside the prison walls.
"Your form is still shit," said Iwaizumi, folding his arms as Oikawa struggled to complete a set of pull-ups. "Keep your back straight."
"It is straight," said Oikawa through his teeth. His arms were quivering, but Iwaizumi had done twice as many pull-ups with minimal effort, and he wasn't about to lose that badly. He heaved himself up again.
"It sinks in when you get tired," said Iwaizumi. "And you're using your legs to swing yourself up. Fuckin' lazy."
He was using his legs because his ribs still hurt when he moved the wrong way. But if he said that, Iwaizumi would claim he was making excuses. He was lucky he was even mobile; a week ago, he'd been convinced they were broken.
Regardless of the healing injury, Oikawa couldn't have spared the extra breath to speak, even if he'd had a valid argument. He dropped down and slowly hefted himself back up again, tired muscles screaming, ribs aching.
When a hand pressed into Oikawa's lower back, he almost fell.
"Stop it," said Iwaizumi, suddenly closer. "If you're so fucking worn out that you can't keep your form then you need to stop. You'll end up hurting yourself."
"I didn't know you were a certified personal trainer."
"I'm not," said Iwaizumi. "I'm just not an idiot." He looked up at Oikawa, his hand lingering. Oikawa's heart pattered a little too quickly, and something must have shown on his face because Iwaizumi's mouth curved into that little smirk. "Something bothering you?"
"No." Oikawa let his grip go limp and plopped to the floor. "Nothing at all. I'm great." He turned away to wipe the sweat off of his face, but he still felt Iwaizumi's knowing grin behind him.
A week had gone by since their talk. Since then, Iwaizumi had started doing things like this; guarding Oikawa a little too closely during their basketball games, trailing a hand over Oikawa's shoulders when he walked behind him at the lunch table, bumping their elbows together when they walked beside each other in the hallway. He always wore that smirk when he did it, and it had taken Oikawa a few days too long to realize Iwaizumi was teasing him.
It was frustrating, but it was much better than Oikawa had expected. He'd thought Iwaizumi would mock him after he'd been coerced into his pathetic excuse for a confession. He'd expected the whole cellblock to get in on it, to ridicule Oikawa together.
To his knowledge Iwaizumi had kept his mouth shut, and when he made these small gestures or subtle comments, they were never in a mean way. They were always softened by that half-smile, the one that Oikawa now saw in his dreams.
Oikawa should have been embarrassed by that sort of attention, but he was just pleased that Iwaizumi was still speaking to him.
"You're improving." Iwaizumi's voice returned to normal, the teasing inflection gone. He draped a towel around the back of his neck. "You're a lot stronger than you were when you first got here."
"Because I'd been in jail for six months before this, going through the system," said Oikawa. He gestured at the handful of workout equipment, most of it in some degree of disrepair. "They don't have stuff like this in jail."
Iwaizumi shrugged. "I kept in shape when I was in jail. You don't need anything to do push ups."
Oikawa rolled his eyes and tugged his uniform shirt back on. "Not everyone has your level of dedication. I was too busy being depressed that I was about to go to prison."
"You only got two years," said Iwaizumi. He nudged Oikawa as he walked by. "Stop whining."
Oikawa started to argue, but realized that would sound even more like whining. He kept his mouth shut instead.
