It burned, the touch of Hinata’s hand around his wrist, and then - it was gone. Oikawa, having ducked into the small cottage, found himself face-to-face with a hearth and brightly lit fire, a small table and chairs, cluttered cooking pots and pans, and a bed in the corner with curtains, too much furniture, crammed into one place. But there was only one word that came to Oikawa’s mind - charming. Hinata and Grandma 

As the family got to work plopping Oikawa down at the table, talking, laughing, catching up, offering water and food, Oikawa took in his bottom on this seat, his elbows at the table, his presence in a home -

No one had invited him into their house… in years. It had been years since he was welcomed in as a guest instead of breaking in windows, and devouring a household… 

‘Now, Oikawa,’ Grandma said boss-like, placing her hands on her hips, ‘pickled carrots or pickled beetroot?’

A plate was placed before him with a coloured assortment of food: dried meat, pickled vegetables and bread. 

‘You - you shouldn’t be giving me this,’ Oikawa looked up at Grandma and saw, not a carcass of meat for him devour - but a warm kind woman. A woman the epitome of a grandma. 

‘Well my boy,’ she smiled, ‘you look like you need it.’ 

Hinata and Grandma also sat down and the three of them ate and talked. The fire was hot and tender, filling the air with so much warmth it was like a giant hug. The soothing scent of the cottage was a mixture of rosemary and lillies, even though there were no herbs or flowers visible, and it made Oikawa sleepy and snug. The carpet by the fire was too welcoming, this chair too comfortable, his hosts too hospitable - it wouldn’t do. Oikawa would have to devour them at night, when his senses were less intoxicated, when his belly was less full. Even now, in fact, the taste of beetroot and cured meat on his tongue was divine but it was in no way enough: the flesh of a sixteen year old boy was dinner and Oikawa hadn’t had dinner for about a week. 

‘Oh! Do you have something to treat wounds, Grandma? Oikawa hurt himself on his side and has a cut!’ 

‘Goodness! How did you cut yourself?’ Grandma eyed him acutely and then her eyes fell onto his hand. Oikawa knew what she was looking at; it was something Hinata had not yet noticed but thankfully, she did not bring it to light.

‘I fell on some rock in the forest,’ Oikawa mumbled, feeling how pathetic it sounded. 

‘You are a fortunate one, aren’t you? It just so happens I do have some ointment and that I am a herbalist. After we eat, let’s make sure that gets cleaned up and treated!’ 

And so after dinner, Oikawa felt like a painting the way he lifted his tunic up at the side and watched them inspect his wound. Hinata’s gaze was so fixated beneath those long eyelashes, those large, pretty eyes examining the wound, again Oikawa was struck by how charming the face of this piece of meat was, and how much care and consideration oozed out of this human. A cough made him break his gaze and look at Grandma, whose eyes were also fixed on the wound but who Oikawa felt had seen more.

‘It is not too bad,’ Grandma stated. ‘Boiled wine will clean it. Honey and egg white may help but eggs I have none. A gauze will protect it. Hinata, there’s wine in the cupboard -’ 

Snatch.

It was now Oikawa’s turn - he had roughly grabbed Hinata’s wrist, to stop the cute ginger thing from going to the cupboard.

‘Do not,’ Oikawa said, thinking of the night, thinking of the blood, thinking of them both fast asleep, ‘waste your wine on me.’

Oikawa could do it himself. Tonight. Tomorrow. If that was all that was needed. He could boil wine, he could apply honey, he could clean himself up. He did not need them to care for him. Not at all.

Oikawa’s thumb felt Hinata’s pulse quicken under it. 

Hinata was startled and blushed from the devilishly handsome yet threatening look in Oikawa’s eyes. Hinata once again could not place his finger on it but there was something dangerous about their guest, something rippling under the surface that was waiting to burst forth. And Hinata wondered what exactly that was. 

‘Wine does not do well with me and Shoyo is too young. No one will drink it,’ Grandma affirmed. ‘We cannot consume it. So we will boil it. It will be sterile. We may as well put it to good use.’

Oikawa could not understand, as he watched Grandma and Hinata place a small pot of wine above the fire, as Hinata mixed a swab of honey, as Grandma added a pot of water to boil linen, why he felt like his core was splitting in two. He could not understand, the piercing shooting aches in his chest at Hinata’s breathtaking smiles and Grandma’s militant mission to make sure this small wound in his side would be seen to. 

An hour later, calming honey and a clean gauze had been applied and Oikawa’s willing gesture had been denied for him to clean any pots or pans. Instead he was offered Grandma’s bed to rest, or hot water with honey, or more food, all of which he declined. Grandma coughed a bit more and it was then Oikawa realised - it was not done to make a point.

Hinata retrieved the medicine he’d brought from his home, the medicine being a pouch that was a combination of crushed dried herbs, plants and flowers that his mother, Grandma’s daughter, had put together, for Grandma to mix a little with water every day and drink. Grandma coughed and brushed it off but upon seeing Hinata’s crestfallen irresistible face, reluctantly agreed to take the medicine and took the pouch.

Then the family tended to Suki, the pigeon Hinata had brought and Oikawa felt a mix of hunger and jealousy watching Hinata fondly stroke the pigeon and kiss the back of its head. When he’d eat the three of them, Oikawa promised himself he would eat the pigeon first. 

But Oikawa’s plans were slowly unraveling, as Grandma went to the desk by the small window by her bed, sat on the stool and took out some parchment, ink and a quill. Curiosity got the better of Oikawa and he went over to watch over her shoulder. She felt his presence, turned and smiled that Hinata-family smile.

‘What are you doing?’ Oikawa asked.

‘I’m writing a letter to my daugher,’ Grandma dipped the quill in the ink pot, ‘to her let know Shoyo has arrived safely and that we’re alright.’

Oikawa watched in awe, the cursive letters appear on the page in majestic swirls. 

‘Can you write?’ she paused.

‘No,’ he whispered.

‘Read?’

‘No.’

‘My father was a servant boy to royalty and a scholar taught him how to read and write. After he learned, he determined that he would teach his whole family and everyone who came into it the same skills. I believe the same.’

 Oikawa watched her finish the letter. She then gave it to Hinata, who had finished feeding Suki and had placed the pigeon back in the cage. Oikawa could not help but be impressed with those amber eyes and kind mind that quickly devoured the letter. 

‘But,’ Hinata said, looking up, ‘this is wrong. I’m not here to stay with you for the winter… I’m here to bring you back.’ 

‘Shoyo,’ she said gently, ruffling that ginger hair. ‘Your mother knows this: I can’t leave this place.’

‘But -!’

‘I am seventy eight. I cannot venture far neither do I want to. I have lived here for the past forty years. Your grandpa lived here too. This is my home.’

Hinata hesitated.

‘There is no pressure for you, my dear, to keep me company. This was an unexpected pleasant surprise to say the least. If you wish to return home, I understand.’ Grandma held Hinata’s face and gently kissed him on the forehead. ‘Why don’t you sleep on it tonight? See how you feel tomorrow. And if you wish to go back you may leave at any time, or I can rewrite the letter.’

It was agreed. 

Then Grandma turned to Oikawa.

‘Now. Seeing as we have well-bandaged, strong and tall man like you, how about getting this old lady some more firewood?’

For the rest of the day, Oikawa chopped wood and Hinata helped his Grandma clean. When Oikawa returned with logs, Grandma had prepared more food for them, and was explaining to Hinata the best places to hunt within the nearby forest if there was any game left. Hinata agreed that tomorrow he would spend the day trying to catch something. Meanwhile, Oikawa stared at the generosity on the plate.

‘I cannot eat this,’ Oikawa stated.

The family members both turned to Oikawa with matching annoyed expressions.

‘Not this again,’ Hinata muttered.

‘You will eat what you’ve been given my boy. How many trees did you chop?’

‘Four,’ Oikawa replied.

‘All into small logs?’

‘Yes.’

Grandma stared. ‘Four?’

‘Yes.’

It was not humanly possible.

‘You can take a look,’ Oikawa said with half a smirk, ‘if you don’t believe me.’

‘And you put them under the roof outside?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well then. I won’t hear anymore on the matter. You shall eat.’

By the cool honey on his side, and more food on his plate, and this sunny boy with the sunny laugh, and Grandma, Oikawa lulled into evening, not full but not hungry either. 

After dinner, Grandma fetched the wool blankets and pillows with goose feathers as she and Hinata tried to make a makeshift sleeping place by the fire. Grandma kept offering her bed but Hinata would have none of it, and it was only when Oikawa suddenly realised there were two sets of everything he realised he would be sleeping next to Hinata.

‘I’m so sorry it will not be the most comfortable place to sleep,’ Grandma worried as she spoke to Oikawa.

‘This is fine,’ Oikawa said, thinking of the caves and woodland he had slept in with no blankets and no fires.

And no Hinata.

Oikawa froze from the thought.

Grandma coughed and Hinata’s concerned eyes watched her. But she brushed it off, and recommended an early night for all seeing as Hinata would try hunting tomorrow with his bow and arrows. Grandma retired to her canopy bed and closed the curtains. 

Oikawa could not understand, as Hinata prepared to lie down under his blanket by the fire, why he felt nervous. The Big Bad Wolf… nervous?  The Great Bad Wolf, some in the South would say, nervous? Why on earth was The Wolf of the West nervous?

‘Are you going to lie down, Oikawa?’

Oikawa got under his blanket on the floor. The pillow was seductively soft, the wool blanket fluffy and warm. Before him, this pretty, tiny, delicious orange-haired thing faced him, with raging fire in the background. Hinata smiled and it was blinding.

‘I’m so happy you’re staying with us! Does your side feel better?’

He was so pretty and so innocent. Oikawa could transform and eat him then and there and Hinata would not survive, he would have no choice, he would not longer exist.

These beautiful eyes, this inclusive accepting warmth would be gone.

‘Oikawa?’

In reality… Oikawa wasn’t that hungry right now. He didn’t have to eat Hinata tonight. By the looks of it, Hinata and Grandma weren’t going anywhere. His food was literally right under his nose. It would perhaps be better to wait until he was starving again, to then indulge…

‘I’m feeling much better, thank you,’ Oikawa murmured, his gaze so intense that Hinata’s cheeks turned pink. ‘How are you feeling?’

Oikawa wasn’t sure if he was imagining it but Hinata suddenly looked nervous. He couldn’t help himself: he shuffled ever so slightly closer to Hinata on the floor. 

‘Are you warm enough?’ Oikawa whispered.

‘Y-yes.’ Hinata moved onto his back and stared at the ceiling, his cheeks like two red apples.

Oikawa had the sudden urge to bite Hinata’s cheeks but it had nothing to do with hunger.

‘Look at me for a moment.’

Hinata turned his head and eyes towards Oikawa once again. He raised his arms and crossed them above his head and never had Oikawa been so tempted to cuddle someone.

‘Thank you for welcoming me into your home.’

Hinata lowered an arm and hid half of his face in the crook of his elbow but those magnetic brown eyes still peeked above sweating cheeks looking back at Oikawa.

‘It’s OK,’ Hinata muffled into his arm and it was cutest thing Oikawa had ever seen in his entire life.

‘Do you think you’ll stay here… if Grandma doesn’t want to go back with you?’

Hinata lowered his arm. ‘Do you think you’d stay here too?’

No embarrassment from Shoyo. Just pure, open, honest inquisitiveness. No hiding. Nothing undercurrent. Nothing implied. The question was so direct it made Oikawa’s cheeks warm.

‘That is solely up to your Grandma. It is her home and her resources after all.’

Hinata look put out. ‘It’s nice,’ he muttered, ‘having someone of a similar age around. All my family are younger or older, and most of my friends have been hiding away from the cold and because of the famine and a lot of people have become suspicious. Although in Bunbury where I’m from we have maintained a good cheer… but a lot of people seemed to lose their self-control.’

‘It is hard to maintain self-control when you need something that badly.’

Hinata was not sure why he had butterflies in his stomach. Nor why the crackling sparks of the fire didn’t feel like they were external but coming from within him. Being this close to Oikawa, it was so hard to look directly at someone this good-looking and Hinata felt torn between looking away or looking some more…

‘I will come with you tomorrow,’ Oikawa said, ‘to hunt. I’m good at it. I’m positive we’ll catch something.’

‘Oh OK!’ Hinata suddenly smiled and Oikawa felt the strings tug his heart. ‘Lets go to sleep and in the morning we’ll hunt together!’ 

 Hinata stretched and then turned to his right side, towards the fire, leaving his back exposed to Oikawa.

‘Goodnight Oikawa!’

‘Goodnight Hinata.’

It would take less than a second for Oikawa to close the gap and slot his body behind Hinata’s. Oikawa sighed and turned away from the sleeping bundle.

They both slept turned away from each other.