The nightclub pulsed with life as twilight spilled gold across the rooftops of Rio de Janeiro. A hypnotic blend of samba and funk drifted over the beach, mingling with the aroma of caipirinhas and saltwater. Sunset sliced through the wooden beams of the open-air terrace, bodies swaying under the deliberate heat of orange and violet.

Oikawa leaned against the edge of the bar, his fingers tapping an idle rhythm to the thrumming bass. He was mildly surprised that Hinata managed to convince him to unwind at a nightclub—of all places—for his last night in Brazil.

Hinata turned from the bar and passed him a drink, not even bothering to hide his playful grin. “Nothing like Sendai, huh?”

Oikawa raised his eyebrows in acknowledgment, lifting the glass to his lips for a small swig. The heat of alcohol burned down his throat, chased by the sharp taste of lime. He grimaced, his papillae used to something sweet and fruity with a tiny umbrella in it. “Not at all.” And he’s not only talking about the drink.

Not since you walked in. His gaze locked on you the second you stepped inside, trailing behind a group of women. A bachelorette party and clearly not yours. The bride-to-be was dressed for attention, loud and boisterous. Foreigners always had a certain air about them—Oikawa would know—sharp, pompous, acting like they were right where they belonged. But you weren’t like them. Carefree, fun, and nonchalant in your own way.

The moment you made eye contact, time seemed to slow down for him. The noise of the nightlife faded, reduced to a placid, distant heartbeat as he held your gaze—and he wasn’t the only one. Hinata couldn’t look away either. No words were needed. Just a thin amber ring of enchantment in his eyes that made Oikawa’s stomach clench.

It wasn’t jealousy that gutted him. He just wasn’t particularly fond of sharing—whether that be the Olympic stage or those delicious alfajores he’d recently sampled. Tension hung between them before Oikawa teased the wing spiker—mostly to gauge if he had the same creeping heat under his skin. “Go on, buy a drink for the cutie over there,” he drawled, nodding toward you. “And make sure to say it’s from us.”

Hinata blinked out of his reverie at the enunciation. Up close, Oikawa could see the shorter man’s cheeks flush enough to reveal the sun freckles littered across his skin like starlight—maybe flustered, maybe tipsy. Probably both. His voice was sheepish when he finally spoke. “No way, I can’t say that.”

“You're right,” Oikawa sighed, pitying the poor man. He took his time, letting the sympathy settle around him. A pause. His smirk returned—a slow pull of his lips—replaced with a challenge he already knew he’d won. “You’ll only make things worse.”

He asked the bartender for another drink. Sweet and fruity, of course. Because that was the aura you exuded—like everything around you seemed lighter. He moved with smooth, easy confidence, weaving through the crowd as he ran a hand through his damp hair from the heat of the outdoor venue. There was a long moment and a flicker of envy before Hinata realized Oikawa was in front of you.

“Brazil’s lucky enough to have me, but tonight I’m starting to think I’m the lucky one.” Oikawa flashed his signature charm, offering you a glass. His smirk softened into something more playful. “So… tell me how long I have before your friends drag you back to your hotel—or before you break my heart with a goodbye.”

The setter’s anticipation was infectious. Hinata felt it, trepidation no longer restraining him. Something casual in your posture made him straighten his, assuming his energetic smile. He threw back his drink. If Oikawa thought Hinata would stay like an obedient dog, he was sorely mistaken. The leash had already snapped.

He barely felt his legs move as he appeared beside you. “Or I can bring you a real drink you’d actually like. I know all the best spots for food and drinks Brazil has to offer!”

His demeanor was deceptively cheerful, but Oikawa knew better. The mutt finally found its bite, and the bell hadn’t even rung yet.