A/N: Based on a tumblr prompt. Enjoy!

Speed Trapped

"No, no, right here's good. Just behind those bushes. Trust me, no one will see us." Kuroo says into the mouthpiece of his helmet, signaling with a hand to his partner, who is a few feet behind him before turning his motorcycle into a small clearance in the dense foliage along the highway.

Bokuto pulls in next to him a second later and takes off his helmet. "Why bushes, Kuroo? Why is it always fuckin' bushes? I hate bugs."

Kuroo pulls his helmet off. "Because it's the only place on the damn highway where we're invisible. It pisses me off when people slow down before I can catch them on the radar." Kuroo reaches back into the compartment of his motorcycle, feeling around for his radar gun.

"I guess." Bokuto says, "But still. Remember when that spider fell on me that one time?"

Kuroo snorts. "Yeah, it was fucking hilarious."

"Was not."

"Was to." Kuroo says as he points the radar at a passing minivan, frowning grudgingly at their attentiveness to the speed limit.

"Was not, man! Come on! What if it had been poisonous?"

The dark-haired officer scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Dude, it was this big," He says, his fingertips a few centimeters apart, "Stop being so drama-whoa… hello…" Kuroo cuts himself off as a light blue sports car flies by them.

They are obviously speeding, but just for a laugh, Kuroo points the gun at the car anyway. "Hunh."

Kuroo turns to Bokuto. "Officer?" He begins innocently.

Bokuto grins. "Yes, officer?"

"What is the speed limit on this stretch of the highway?"

"I believe it's one hundred and fifteen kilometers per hour."

Kuroo makes a contemplative noise. "Mm, indeed. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but one hundred and forty-five is definitely more than one hundred and fifteen, right?"

"Sure is."

"Yay." Kuroo's grin mirrors his friend and partner's as he hands him the radar gun and reaches behind him for his helmet.

"This is gonna be fun."

"Look, I'm sorry I'm running late, I'll be there in like fifteen minutes or so. Yes, I know you looked at a lot of other models before me. I appreci-" Oikawa goes silent as the irate designer on the line chews his ear off, gripping his steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

"Yes, it won't happen again."

He hangs up and sets his phone in the cup holder beside him before turning the radio up.

"Could this day get any worse?" Oikawa mutters to himself. Right on cue, red and blue lights flash behind him and it's then that Oikawa realizes two things. One, he's waaaaaay over the speed limit. Two, never ask a question you don't really want the answer to.

Oikawa feels like crying.

He looks in the rear view mirror nervously. Of course it's a cop on a motorcycle. They're the worst ones of the bunch, according to Iwa-chan. There's no way he's getting out of this ticket. The officer signals for him to pull over and Oikawa does immediately.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck."

It becomes a chant of sorts. Oikawa swallows thickly as he watches the officer park behind him. He takes his helmet off unhurriedly and hangs it on one of the handlebars before gradually stepping off his motorcycle and walking towards his car. The way his lips curl into a smirk as he inspects the car makes Oikawa sweat bullets.

I'm so screwed.

After a few seconds, he finally makes it to Oikawa's window, knocking on the glass with his knuckle. Oikawa lowers it, smiling anxiously.

"Nice car."

Oikawa forces a friendly laugh. "Thanks."

"Foreign?"

"Au-audi."

The officers makes a face like he's impressed. "Audi." He repeats, and the mocking in his tone sends Oikawa's heart into the pits of his stomach.

The officer nods. "Yeah, Audi's nice. However," He pauses to take off his sunglasses, "You're not on the Autobahn in Germany, my friend, you're on a shitty highway in Tokyo."

Oikawa sputters. "Officer, honestly, I'm so, so sorry, I'm just-it's that I'm running late for a photo shoot, and the designer is super pissed –I'm a model, you see- and-"

But the officer's smirk just keeps widening with every word, like he's enjoying every second of this.

"…You …don't really care, do you?"

The officer chuckles, shaking his head. "Nah, not really. Being 'late' for whatever reason" –the officer makes air quotations around 'late', which makes Oikawa's eye twitch- "doesn't excuse you for being thirty kilometers over the speed limit. Although, I will give you points for creativity."

"Creativity?" Oikawa starts, indignant, "I'm not lying to you. I am a model. I have my portfolio with me if you don't believe me."

"I'm not interested in looking at your undie pics, sir. Now give me your license, registration, and proof of insurance."

"…Fine." Oikawa huffs, leaning over into his glove compartment to get his documents. He hands everything over in a neat bundle after fishing his license out of his wallet. "Here." He says, shoving it as forcefully into the officer's hand as he can.

The officer remains unfazed, however, and accepts it with a tiny grin. Like he's amused by Oikawa's attitude. Which he obviously is. "Thank you."

He inspects each document thoroughly, making little 'hmm' noises every so often. Oikawa drums his fingers on his steering wheel impatiently. He can't shake the feeling that he's doing it on purpose because he knows that Oikawa's in a hurry.

It's true that law enforcement attracts certain types of people, Oikawa thinks.

This guy is a fucking sadist. He's totally getting off on this.

His eyes, a rather striking shade of amber, Oikawa can't help but notice, scan over each word with unnecessary deliberation; deliberation that turns into flat out amusement when he gets to Oikawa's license.

"Oh my God," He snorts to himself, "You flashed a peace sign for you picture? They must've gotten a kick out of you down at the DMV."

Oikawa flushes, from both embarrassment and anger. He forgot that he did that. But still, "Are you actually laughing at my license? That's a little unprofessional for highway patrol, isn't it?" He snaps.

He expects the officer to stop, realizing that he's got a point- which he does- but to his annoyance, the officer leans against the door on his forearms, grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

"So's being late to your photo shoot there, Zoolander." He says, way too amused for Oikawa's liking as he stands back to his full height and taps the roof of the car a couple of times. "Sit tight, I'll be right back."

He walks back to his bike, presumably to run the license check and whatever else it is officers do for the five years that they spend back at their vehicles. Oikawa's sure he's just going to sit on his bike and do absolutely nothing for ten minutes, just to make him sweat.

Probably gonna call his backup or whatever and laugh about my picture some more. Oikawa thinks angrily.

After several minutes, his phone suddenly starts vibrating in the cup-holder loudly, startling him out of his thoughts. He picks it up.

It's Iwa-chan.

"Hello?" He answers on the third ring, leaning back in his seat exasperatedly.

"Where are you? Everyone's waiting. The photographer's getting annoyed."

"Yeah, I know, I know. Tell them I'm stuck in traffic."

Iwa-chan's voice suddenly drops with worry. "…What's happening? Where are you right now?"

"I'm fine, I'm just on the side of the highway. I got pulled over for speeding."

"Ugh, seriously?"

"Yeah. And this cop's a total dick. He knows I'm in a rush, so he's purposely taking his sweet time running my papers. Although," Oikawa pauses to look in his rear view mirror, "I have to admit, despite his horrible personality, he's kind of a babe. Maybe he'll let me go if I offer to suck his-"

"Oikawa."

"God, Iwa-chan, his uniform is so tight. I'm almost tempted to ask him how he can move in it."

"Oikawa."

"Heh, I can see his night-stick perfectly through those pants."

"…Tooru."

Oikawa laughs."What? Cops love it when people flirt with them, right?"

Iwa-chan sighs. "Oikawa, don't throw yourself at him to get out of a ticket. Have some goddamn integrity."

"I was thirty kilometers over the speed limit, Iwa-chan. This isn't a minor traffic infraction."

"…Shit."

"Yeah. No room for integrity here."

Oikawa looks back up and sees him walking back. "Oh, I gotta go. He's coming back. I'll call you after. Bye."

Oikawa hangs up just as the officer stops by his window. "Well, I must say," The officer begins, something akin to amazement in his tone, "Your record's disappointingly clean. Given the way you were flying down the highway, I was expecting a few outstanding tickets."

Oikawa looks up at him, smiling the most disgustingly saccharine smile he can muster out of himself. "Is it going to stay disappointingly clean?" He asks, bright-eyed and hopeful.

The officer snorts. "Like hell it is." He says, and starts filling out the ticket on his pad.

Oikawa frowns and flops back against his seat, glaring at his steering wheel. However, gradually, his gaze shifts from the circles of the Audi logo to the officers thighs, lingering a bit before eventually trailing it up his body and resting on his face.

He's young, much younger than most of the cops he's seen on motorcycles, and lot slimmer too. His hair is disheveled from the wind and his helmet, but strangely, it suits him. A nice face; smooth skin, angular features, high cheekbones, and pretty eyes. With that body and that height, he could be a model if he wanted to. Easily,Oikawa thinks.

He also thinks that he's kind of curious to see what he's got going on under that uniform. Oikawa chews his lip for a second, mulling it over. Eh, it's worth a shot.

"I don't suppose I could bribe you into not writing this ticket, could I?"Oikawa asks innocuously, tracing the logo on his steering wheel with a delicate, flirty fingertip.

"For all the money it would take to bribe me," The officer begins with a smirk, still scribbling something down on his notepad, "You could just pay this ticket off."

A beat passes before Oikawa chuckles.

"I wasn't talking about money, officer."

The officer stops writing and looks down at him, one eyebrow raised. Oikawa smiles back, biting his lip the way he does when he models underwear; it's his trademark 'sexy, playfully seductive' look. It's hard to resist, and he knows it, and for a split-second, the look on the officer's face and in his eyes tells Oikawa that his mouth and throat muscles are about to get a good work out. But then a lazy smile spreads across his face and he shakes his head, laughing as he continues writing.

"Nice try, but I'll have to pass on that."

Oikawa's smile fades. The officer notices his sudden shift in demeanor and stops writing again, giving him a look. "What, do you honestly think you're the first person to try and seduce their way out of a ticket? It happens more often than you think."

Oikawa groans and settles back in his seat. "No, I don't, honestly. But I figured it was worth a try, anyway."

Surprisingly, the officer lets out an honest laugh. "It never hurts to try. But you don't come off as the type to give five minute blowjobs in the woods to get out of stuff, anyway."

Oikawa side-eyes him. "How do you know I'm not that kind of person?"

The officer shrugs. "I don't get that vibe from you."

"Would you have done it if you had?"

"No."

"Oh."

"I'm not that kind of cop. And no offense, but even if I was, people flirt with me way too often for me to be flattered by it anymore."

Oikawa leans against his door, resting his chin in his palm. "I'm not surprised. Looking the way you do in that uniform, people probably throw themselves at you constantly. Ticket or no ticket." Oikawa notices the light dust of pink that spreads over the officer's cheeks at the compliment and smiles, deciding to push it just a little bit more. "I bet I'm the cutest one so far, though."

As he's writing, a soft smile spreads across his mouth. "Well, you're not wrong about that. I've never pulled over a model."

"You know, you could be a model. You have the height for it."

He pauses. "…Just the height?"

Oikawa grins. "Well, I think I've already made it pretty clear that I think you're hot."

"Yeah, you have."

After a minute or so, he stops writing and closes his eyes, shaking his head with an incredulous chuckle. Oikawa hears him mutter 'I can't believe this' and smiles, because he knows exactly what that means.

"You know what? Fuck it." The officer says, tearing the ticket up. "You win. I'll let you off with a warning."

Oikawa can't contain his joy. It's the first good thing that's happened for him today. "Yes! Yes, thank you! Thank you so much!" He beams up at the officer, "You're awesome! I won't speed again, I swear! And I'm sorry I told my friend you were a dick! I take it back!"

"…Don't make me change my mind."

Oikawa settles down, still smiling widely. "Sorry. I just…thanks."

The officer shrugs. "Whatever. I'm feeling benevolent today. Just pay attention to the speed limit next time, alright? The last thing I want is for one of those cops to pull you over."

Oikawa's smile turns impish. "The last thing you want?"

To his immense satisfaction, the officer stiffens, cheeks going red as he realizes his slip up. "You know what I meant."

"Mmhmm. I know exactly what you meant."

The officer clears his throat, still blushing as he hands him back his documents and license. "Well, anyway, you're free to go. Have a nice day."

"Yes, sir." Oikawa says quietly, smiling, but makes no real effort to move and unsurprisingly, neither does the officer.

"Aren't you going to go? I thought you were running late." He says after a moment.

Oikawa smirks up at him. "I'll go as soon as you go. Isn't the cop supposed to leave first?"

"Not necessarily."

They fall into silence for a few seconds after that, until the officer sighs and thumps the roof of the car again. "Mind the speed limit, please." He says quietly before walking away. Oikawa watches him walk back to his bike in his side-view mirror, unabashedly admiring the subtle sway of his hips as he walks. The officer gets about halfway to his motorcycle before stopping, hands sitting on his hips somewhat frustratedly. Oikawa hears him curse to himself before he finally turns around and walks back.

Oikawa smiles. He was hoping he wouldn't have to get out of the car and chase him down.

"Wait." The officer says as he steps back up to Oikawa's still open window. Oikawa pretends to be putting his documents away, smiling innocently when he stops next to him."Oh, yes?"

The officer sighs and drags a hand over his face. "Look," He begins, "I'm about to do something very, very unprofessional, and I hope to God that it doesn't come back to bite me in the ass because I love my job, but I'd be remiss if I just let you go. So…" He pauses and scribbles something down on the back of a blank ticket before handing it to Oikawa.

Oikawa looks down at the paper to find a neatly scrawled phone number and a name.

"Kuroo."He reads aloud.

"Yeah, you can call me Tetsurou if you want to, though." He says as he walks backwards towards his motorcycle, almost bashfully. It's kind of cute.

"By some miracle, I'm free this weekend, so if you're interested, I know this great little hole-in-the-wall hibachi place down in Shinjuku."

Oikawa smiles and nods. "Yeah, alright. Cool."

"So it's a date. See you this weekend, then, Zoolander."

"I prefer Tooru."

Kuroo nods and gives him a small smile as he turns on his heel and walks normally towards his bike. He hops on and speeds off in the other direction, leaving Oikawa alone on the shoulder of the highway. He gets himself together and drives off a few minutes later, unable to quell the smile that keeps creeping onto his face.

"Where've you been? My God!" The designer shouts the second Oikawa steps onto the set.

"Sorry, there was a car accident. The highway was backed up for a bit." He says hurriedly, though he realizes he doesn't really need to, because the designer isn't even actually listening.

"Whatever, it doesn't even matter anymore. Hair and makeup, come deal with this!" He shouts at his team to come whisk him away, dismissing him with an exasperated wave of his hand, more concerned with the other models in front of the camera.

Oikawa doesn't mind it, however. At that moment, and throughout the entire photo-shoot, his one real thought is whether or not Kuroo is the kind of guy who fucks on the first date.

He really, really hopes so.

"Oikawa, I must say," the designer says a few days later, going through the pictures on his laptop, "I almost fired you that day, but now I'm so glad I didn't. These are amazing. Look at those eyes, that sultry look," He says, quickly pulling Oikawa around the desk, "Where you trying to seduce my photographer?"

Oikawa gives him a look. "No, of course not. I was trying to make up for the fact that I almost ruined your photo-shoot."

"Oh, babe, you more than made up for it. These clothes are going to fly off the racks at record speeds. I've decided. It's official. You are doing my next campaign. I will not take 'no' for an answer.

"In that case, I'd be happy to do your next campaign."

The designer claps giddily,squealing with excitement. "Wonderful! Marvelous! We'll draft up a contract immediately!"

Oikawa smiles. "I can't wait."

"I have to ask though, purely out of curiosity," The designer gives him a wicked look, "What were you thinking about?"

Oikawa shrugs, tabbing through his photo-set, nodding in silent agreement with the designer. He's never taken such hot pictures before. Every single dirty thought shows in his eyes, and it almost makes Oikawa laugh.

"Oh, you know. Things."