Archive of Our Own

Hinata, Tsukishima confirms, is acting weird – and that’s weird on the Hinata Scale of Weirdness. He frowns consideringly, watching idly as Hinata smiles over his shoulder, shouting a cheerful see ya tomorrow as he waves enthusiastically at no one and everyone before he slips out of the gym. First. That’s the fourth time in two weeks he’s been the first person to leave at the end of practice. The fourth time in two weeks Tsukishima’s noticed at least; who knows how many other times Hinata’s managed to disappear undetected?

Tsukishima stares at Kageyama, trying to work out from his expression how he feels about Hinata dashing away so quickly. Usually he’s the one Hinata hounds for just one more toss after all. Kageyama’s frowning. Which in all honesty tells Tsukishima nothing; when doesn’t that idiot frown?

“Tsukki?”

“What is it Yamaguchi?” Tsukishima slides his eyes away from Kageyama to give Yamaguchi his best glare. Yamaguchi smiles that much harder, but at least Takagi cowers, tucking themselves behind Yamaguchi’s elbow.

“Don’t mind him.” Yamaguchi ruffles Takagi’s hair fondly. “As a child he happened to frown one time just as the wind blew. His face has been stuck like that ever since.” He hums. “So unfortunate.” Takagi stifles a giggle into Yamaguchi’s sleeve. Yamaguchi winks at Tsukishima. Tsukishima should really start looking for a new best friend. His current one is nothing but troublesome.

“Is that it?” Yamaguchi rolls his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that you promised to help Takagi-kun with his blocking today?” Yamaguchi blinks earnestly; Tsukishima narrows his eyes consideringly. There’s ‘forgotten’ and then there’s ‘failed to have been asked at all’.

“How can I teach someone who needs a shield to be around me?” Takagi makes an aborted squeaking sound as Yamaguchi shuffles him – perhaps a little more roughly than is entirely necessary – until he stands in between them. He nudges him on the shoulder when all Takagi does is stare up at Tsukishima.

“Please senpai!” Takagi squeezes his eyes closed, hands pressed together, as he bows deeply. Yamaguchi offers Tsukishima another nod of encouragement; he really is troublesome. Tsukishima mimes out slicing Yamaguchi’s head off, whilst Takagi’s eyes are still closed, as well as demonstrating the spurts of blood that would shoot out with his fingers. Yamaguchi throws him a peace sign before walking away. Tsukishima sighs; he never stood a chance against Yamaguchi, even before he was captain. He flicks Takagi in the forehead.

“You’ve got twenty minutes.” He knows twenty will morph into thirty, but if he’d started at thirty that would have morphed into forty and despite popular belief he has other things he’d rather be doing with his time than giving some first year extra blocking practice. He stalks off to the far court.

“Wahoo! You’re the best!” Takagi springs into step beside him. He might often lack courage in other areas of his life, but he more than makes up for it once he’s on a court. He’s even unphased by Tsukishima then. Kind of like another idiot Tsukishima knows. “Thanks Tsukishima-senpai!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tsukishima rolls his eyes; he doesn’t get off on being addressed as ‘senpai’ quite like everyone else seems to. “Remind me why I’m helping you instead of Idiot Number One?” It’s not like Tsukishima cares but he’s learnt this kid will fill all and every silence with an assortment of screeches, and sometimes wails of terror, so he tries to prompt him into speech instead. If only to save his own eardrums. Takagi blinks up at him with wide eyes as if he doesn’t know who Tsukishima is referring to.

“Idiot Number One?” He hums consideringly, brows bunching up.

“Hinata,” Tsukishima clarifies on a growl, “isn’t he your go-to mentor?” Which is Tsukishima’s polite way of pointing out that the kid’s obvious obsession with their shortest team member is, well, annoyingly obvious.

“Oh! Shouyou-senpai is not an idiot.” Tsukishima throws a ball at Takagi. Not hard enough that he won’t be able to catch it, but hard enough that it stings. He gestures to the other side of the net.

“You don’t have to wax poetic about him now. He’s not even here.”

“Yeah.” Takagi visibly deflates. Maybe, Tsukishima thinks, it’s not too late to switch to the ping pong club after all. A nice solo sport is just what he needs. “That’s why I’m stuck with you.” His entire face droops into a pout. “He said he had stuff to do.”

“Tragic.” Tsukishima affects his most disinterested voice. “Tweet Oprah and see if she cares. Now, you’re going to spike and I’m going to block how you’ve been blocking. It’s better if you work out your own mistakes.” Takagi nods, small face suddenly determined. Tsukishima focuses his mind to how he’d noticed the kid tends to place his feet – too close together, dominant foot in front – during practice, and the way his right arm is often moving a fraction slower than his left. He concentrates on mimicking the power and speed of Takagi’s block as well as when he usually makes to jump for it.

And he definitely does not let his mind wander to what kind of ‘stuff’ Hinata could possibly be doing four nights in the last two weeks.

□          □          □

It’s a Tuesday and Thursday thing. Now that Tsukishima has started to pay attention that much at least has become clear. Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday Hinata is his usual aggravating self, buzzing around the gym and begging Kageyama for just one more toss and hooting happily into the air whenever one of their underclassmen asks him for help.

“See Bakeyama! Minamoto wants to set for me! If you don’t practice he’s going to take your spot as a starter!” Which even though everyone knows is impossible – Kageyama’s been a starter since they were first years and Minamoto is no Kageyama when it comes to natural talent and ability – Kageyama still shoves a hand into Hinata’s face.

“Shut up, stupid. That’s not going to work.” He steps beside Minamoto and adjusts the positioning of his hands. “When you set for idiots your thumbs need to be like this.” He smirks when Hinata squawks indignantly.

“You’re meant to be teaching Minamoto how to set for me, not you, Bageyama!” He blows raspberries across the court at Kageyama, yelping and ducking behind Matsubara when Kageyama whirls around with a raised fist.

Matsubara – their second year middle blocker – is all kinds of tall and sturdy and their widest player to date. His shoulders are so broad and his thigh muscles so thick that last year when he turned up for try-outs Tanaka and Noya had piled themselves on top of him, tearfully dubbing him Sawamura-the-Second. At least until they realised he has a handful more anger issues than their original Sawamura ever had; they’d taken to calling him Bara-chan as they fluttered their eyelashes at him instead, and that had sort of stuck.

But even Matsubara, who accidentally served a volleyball into an opponent’s face and broke their nose in their last practice match, has a soft spot for his shortest, loudest senpai. He huffs an embarrassed puff of air out of the side of his mouth, planting a hand on top of Hinata’s head so hard Tsukishima’s sure it must hurt. Hinata grins up at his own personal body guard, smile blinding, as Kageyama continues to crack his knuckles menacingly.

And it’s not as if Tsukishima likes all this endless fussing and distractions away from actual practice; he just likes routine. When everything follows a precise order, Tsukishima wouldn’t say he enjoys it, but it is infinitely less troublesome when things are predictable. Admittedly Hinata’s always been somewhat harder to figure out, but his loud, messy, uncoordinated, persistent bumbling until he’s the last one out of the doors after practice is what Tsukishima’s grown accustomed to.

It sets him on edge when things don’t go as planned; even more so when people don’t behave in the way he expects them to.

He waits until another Tuesday rolls around, convincing himself that now they’ve moved onto a new month in the calendar everything will bounce back to normal. So he’s more than a little pissed off when Hinata leaps excitedly out of his kit and straight into his uniform, bellowing a “see ya tomorrow!” at no one and everyone as he salutes, the sun illuminating him in an annoying way, before he turns on his heel and dashes out of the open gym door at the end of practice. The first one to leave.

“Eaten more lemons than usual today, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi elbows him playfully, motioning with his other hand at the pinched look Tsukishima didn’t realise he was wearing.

“Funny.” Tsukishima snorts dryly, elbowing him back. He cocks his head to the open gym door – that idiot never thinks to close it after himself. “Where do you suppose he keeps going?”

Yamaguchi’s eyebrows creep onto his forehead, mouth twitching into a smirk on one side and maybe Tsukishima would be embarrassed, but this is Yamaguchi; he’s had front row seats to Tsukishima’s personal All-Humiliation-Show for years now.

“Where who keeps going?” Tsukishima resists rolling his eyes. He doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“The tangerine supreme.” The other side of Yamaguchi’s mouth crinkles.

“That’s a new one.”

“They’re smaller than oranges.”

“Ah-huh,” almost as if he can sense the shut up Yamaguchi that’s brewing on the tip of Tsukishima’s tongue, he carries on, “I’m not sure. Perhaps, and this is just a wild guess, home?”

“Home?” Tsukishima stares sceptically as Yamaguchi rocks onto the tips of his toes and back again.

“Yeah,” he rocks, forwards and back, shrugging nonchalantly, “why not?” Akiteru often ribs Tsukishima for how oblivious he thinks he is, but Yamaguchi is really taking the cake with this one.

“So you’re telling me you honestly think our tangerine Just-One-More-Toss supreme has been sprinting out of the door as soon as practice is over every Tuesday and Thursday for the last month, just to go home?” Yamaguchi blinks at him, clearly perplexed.

“Every Tuesday and Thursday for the last month,” he echoes in a little mystified voice. “Huh, I really hadn’t noticed.”

“Hadn’t noticed?” Tsukishima splutters, instantly regretting asking Yamaguchi anything. He thought everyone had noticed; it’s impossible not to notice something like that. “You’re the Captain!” He throws out an arm needlessly, inwardly cringing when Yamaguchi’s eyes lock in on the movement; Tsukishima isn’t known for his huge flailing arm movements – unlike other people. “It’s like your job to notice stuff about the team.”

“Notice stuff.” Yamaguchi blinks slowly, nodding his head as if the gentle bobbing will help the information sink into his brain. Tsukishima groans, glancing around the gym quickly to see if someone – anyone – is close enough for him to call out to. Surely Takagi is moping about somewhere. “I guess you’re right.”

“What?” Tsukishima eyes fall back to Yamaguchi’s face, uncertain.

“I haven’t been paying as much attention to you guys as I used to.” He nibbles on his lip thoughtfully. “Now that I’m Captain I have a lot more duties I’m expected to do and about half of them involve the first years. I want to make sure we have a strong team because it’s our last year and I want to take us to nationals–”

“Yamaguchi–”

“But I also want to leave a strong team. Because it’s our last year and they’re going to be our legacy.”

“Yamaguchi–”

“And I see Tobio-kun all the time, since he’s my vice, and he’s really been trying, not just with volleyball but with people too, which has made me really happy. So maybe I let myself get too caught up in that feeling. And I trust you guys the most, y’know?”

“Yamaguchi–”

“You’re all much stronger than I can ever hope to be, but I’ve still been dedicating more time to individual practice than before because I want to be a Captain you can all be proud of, but it turns out I’m already neglecting you and–”

“Tadashi!” Yamaguchi’s mouth snaps shut. Tsukishima can hear the short, sharp breaths he’s taking and knows from the tension in his shoulders that Yamaguchi hasn’t talked himself into tears yet, but it was close. “Idiot.” He cuffs the side of his head gently, wishing – just for a moment – that today wasn’t a Tuesday and Hinata was here to hug him better. Tsukishima has many skills, but giving good hugs, or any hugs, is not one of them.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Tsukishima sighs, reaching out a hand to pat Yamaguchi’s shoulder. “I’m the one who’s sorry.” Yamaguchi turns, face a soft pink, as he looks up at Tsukishima in confusion. “I forget sometimes that you’ve got so much to do now.”

“That’s not–” Tsukishima cuffs him again.

“Rely on us more. It’s not weak to need help.”

“Oh…”

“And,” Tsukishima coughs. He’s been working on being better at being emotionally supportive the last couple of years, and he likes to think he’s improved marginally – more than Kageyama anyway – but it’s still unbearably troublesome for him to have to voice things which are so blatant to him that they’re almost tangible things he can gesture to in the real world. “You already are a Captain we’re all proud of, moron.” He wrinkles his nose.

“Eh?” It’s not Yamaguchi’s fault that two out of three of his fellow third years are emotionally constipated. He rolls his eyes, not glancing away from Yamaguchi’s face as he yells across the gym.

“Tobio-chan!” He smirks as he hears a ball smack into someone and the curse that follows. It’s not often that Tsukishima raises his voice and it’s only when he tips his head in the direction he can hear Kageyama muttering darkly that he notices everyone has paused in their added practice to stare at him.

“I told you never to call me that.” Kageyama spits as he stalks towards the two of them, frown carved into his face as his eyes dart between Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. “What do you want?” Tsukishima is strangely aware of how he’s been excused of more cursing only because Yamaguchi’s there.

“Are you proud of our Captain?” For once it’s a straight question; Tsukishima doesn’t raise an eyebrow, or smirk, or sneer or look down at Kageyama.

“Yes.” Kageyama doesn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Eh?” Yamaguchi’s face burns red. “This is embarrassing.” He hides his face into his hands as Kageyama continues to stare at him nonplussed.

“He didn’t think we were proud of him?” It doesn’t take much to confuse Kageyama, but even Tsukishima can see this has truly stumped him. “Why would he think that?”

“He’s an idiot.”

“I’m right here.”

“Maybe we don’t tell him enough.” Tsukishima shrugs, making sure his voice is just loud enough that their audience can hear. It wouldn’t hurt for them to start praising Yamaguchi more too; he deserves it.

“Oh.” Kageyama’s frown smooths out slightly. He breathes in deeply, focusing on Yamaguchi’s hidden face intently. He speaks slowly, mouth forming each word precisely as if it is precious. “I’m proud of you, Captain.” He doesn’t stutter. Tsukishima feels something small and warm flare at the pit of his stomach. Just for a moment. Probably his competitive side. Kageyama’s grown more than he thought; he’s going to have to up his game now.

“Don’t,” wails Yamaguchi, making cracks in his fingers to peer out at Kageyama with, “it really is embarrassing!” Tsukishima snorts, cuffing Yamaguchi one last time, pleased to see his shoulders have loosened up.

“Right.” He nods once at Kageyama, before turning his head back to where he’d spied Takagi slumping miserably on a bench. “Now that’s sorted.” He narrows his eyes at the rest of the team, prompting them to jolt back into whatever practice they’d been doing before and wanders over to stand in front of Takagi.

“Ah! Tsukishima-senpai!” He only looks half as terrified as usual. Maybe because most of his emotional capacity is focused on feeling sorry for himself. “I-I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Tsukishima raises an eyebrow. “For what?”

“Uhm,” Takagi’s lip quivers, “I don’t know…” He doesn’t need to elaborate for Tsukishima to realise he thinks he’s only come over to berate him for something. He’s been working on being more of a team player and has been trying to initiate more conversations with his teammates, but it’s possible the majority of these are constructive criticism.

“It’s Tuesday,” Tsukishima rolls his eyes, “do you want extra blocking practice or not?”

□          □          □

“So I’ve been thinking about it–” Tsukishima tries not to visibly jump at Yamaguchi’s sudden appearance behind his locker door, but from the curl of Yamaguchi’s mouth and the spark in his eyes he knows he’s failed.

“Thinking about what?” He scowls. There’s only Kageyama left in the changing room this late – Takagi stepped out moments ago – and that’s maybe the absolute worst audience to see anything embarrassing.

“About Hinata leaving early. On Tuesdays and Thursdays.” Tsukishima blinks. He’d kind of figured Yamaguchi had forgotten about it; it’s been two and a half weeks since he’d asked.

“And?” Yamaguchi grins, pleased to have caught Tsukishima’s interest.

“It’s just Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“I noticed that.”

“Right, but the fact it’s every Tuesday and Thursday gives us some clues!” Tsukishima huffs a breath, trying to show how he not only doesn’t care what Hinata does in his free time, but even investing this much effort into working it out is boring. Except he doesn’t feel either of those things and the giggle Yamaguchi sends his way lets him know he’s fooled entirely nobody.

“What kind of clues?” He closes his locker door to give Yamaguchi his full attention when he glares at him.

“Well! It’s part of an established plan, for it to be so frequent, but it’s not like so frequent that it’s every day.”

“Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima can feel a headache brewing, “what are you trying to say?”

“I don’t think he’s secretly joined another club,” Yamaguchi leans down to pick up Tsukishima’s bag for him, handing it off with a sunny smile, “because they’d need him to practice more often.”

“Of course he hasn’t joined another club.” The idiot lives and breathes volleyball.

“But maybe he’s joined a cram school.” That causes Tsukishima to pause.

“A cram school?” Yamaguchi rolls his eyes.

“We’re third years now. Grades are important!” Tsukishima toes open the changing room doors, keeping it open with his foot for Yamaguchi to follow him out.

“Not if you’re aiming for a sports scholarship.” Which the shrimp should be doing. Tsukishima hasn’t asked or anything, but it’s just obvious that’s what he should be doing. Why wouldn’t he be doing that? Yamaguchi wrinkles his nose.

“Uhm, Tsukki, you know I think Hinata is one of the greatest players, but he’s a little… short.” Tsukishima snorts.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Tsukki…” Yamaguchi tilts his head, assessing him, “not every university is going to think giving Hinata a scholarship is worthwhile, y’know? They might figure he’s stopped… well… growing as a player.”

“What?” Tsukishima stops in his tracks. “Who would think that?” Hinata’s broken loads of records, and been on a team that’s gone to nationals twice. He’s proved time and time again in every match they’ve ever played that he’s worth more than he’s ever given credit for. That he’s not only able to jump over any obstacle, but to do so with unmatched determination and pure joy. Isn’t that the exact kind of player universities would want to scout? “Why would that stop anyone?”

“Pfft!” Yamaguchi slaps a hand over his mouth. “You sort of sound like him!” He fluffs his hair up and tips his voice to the pitch he uses to mimic Hinata. “‛Why would that stop anyone?’ Way more Hinata than Tsukki!”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi!” Tsukishima punches him in the shoulder to distract from the heat he can feel creeping into his face.

“Sorry Tsukki,” Yamaguchi laughs, evidently not sorry. “Cram school would make the most sense, I think.”

“He’s not going to cram school.” Tsukishima isn’t sure why he’s so certain, he just feels like if Hinata was struggling that much with his school work he’d have begged Tsukishima to help him study before seeking out a cram school to join. Almost as if Hinata joining a cram school is too big of a thing for Tsukishima not to know about.

“Maybe a study group then?” It’s a little more plausible, Tsukishima supposes. He imagines Hinata would prefer a less formal structure, but he’d become best friends with everyone within a day and certainly try to drag them to a volleyball practice or two; there’s no way he’d last over two months without manhandling at least one person along.

“I don’t think so.”

“Hm. I only have one other idea, but I think it’s pretty unlikely.” Tsukishima shoulders open the gym doors, holding one open for Yamaguchi, who doesn’t follow him out. “Oh! And I can’t walk home with you today.”

“Oh?”

“Kageyama and I have to work out the first years’ training regimes. We want to have as many of them as possible able to play at next weeks practice match.”

“Right.” Tsukishima shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He’d actually wanted to hear his other idea on Hinata, but it seems a little rude to point out he couldn’t care less what his meeting with Kageyama entails. “Have fun then.” He offers a little wave before letting the gym door close and turning to walk away.

“Ah! And Tsukki!” Yamaguchi squawks on the other side, poking his head around the frame, “maybe Hinata’s going on dates!” Yamaguchi disappears back behind the door, his shoes echoing off of the gym floor as he jogs back to Kageyama, so he misses completely the sour look Tsukishima shoots him at that suggestion. Hinata? Dating?

□          □          □

Hinata can tell, all through Wednesday, that something’s not quite right. Everything feels just a little off-kilter, slightly out of touch. It’s like he keeps thinking there’s an extra step at the bottom of the staircase and his body jolts when he realises there isn’t. Except it keeps happening even when he’s not walking down stairs.

It gets worse on Thursday. All through morning practice he has an itch at the back of his neck that he can’t quite seem to reach. No matter how hard he scratches it just won’t go away. Coach Ukai even notices and gives him a time out and a bottle of water and a don’t over-exert yourself in a really soft voice that makes him sound really cool. But even then it doesn’t leave, sticking like a heavy weight that only seems to lighten when he runs out after afternoon practice.

It takes him until Saturday to figure it out. His skin starts tingling as soon as the gym comes into view in the morning. Yesterday he’d felt the itch creep down his back and shoulders, but today his whole body feels strangely warm, like he’s burning under a spotlight. He can feel a heat rising in his cheeks that has nothing to do with practice and he realises all at once that he is under a spotlight. Someone is staring at him.

The hairs on his arms prickle to attention. Hinata’s sort of grown accustomed to people staring at him – often in varying levels of distain, but occasionally there’ll be someone who looks up at him almost in awe – but this feels different. His eyes dart around the room nervously, landing on everyone’s face just for a moment. Maybe Yamaguchi’s been watching him to see if there’s anything he’s especially weak on that he should be practicing more?

Yamaguchi is hunkered over next to Kabuto, demonstrating something with the heel of his palm and not paying a shred of attention to Hinata. Kageyama is similarly distracted, running spike drills with a couple of the first years, face pinched in concentration as he tries to match his setting to each player. Ukai is standing at the net, throwing out words of encouragement and pointers for improvement as Yachi scribbles down notes on a clipboard at his elbow.

With a growing sense of panic Hinata swivels to find Tsukishima. Tsukishima is drinking from his water bottle, evidently ignoring whatever Takagi is chattering about – and now that Hinata thinks about it, since when did Takagi latch onto Tsukishima? – in favour of burning holes into the side of Hinata’s head. Somehow at some point in his life Hinata knows he’s fucked up.

“Hinata-senpai?”

“Wah!” Hinata jumps, eyes snapping away from the thunder clouds rolling over Tsukishima’s eyebrows. “Bara-chan!” Matsubara flushes, pulling into place a scowl that Hinata knows is his embarrassed one, not his angry one.

“Do you want to practice with me?” He tugs on the bottom of his top nervously. He’s always a little nervous when he asks for anything, which is kind of cute considering how big he is.

“Of course!” Hinata brightens – practicing blocking with Matsubara is always fun – and darts off to the court furthest away from Tsukishima.

□          □          □

“You’re being weird!” Hinata accuses, loudly and shrilly when Tsukishima finally wanders out of practice. He didn’t want to get yelled at or punched by Tsukishima in front of the rest of the team so had made an effort to get changed quicker than usual after practice, bypassing his usual begging with Kageyama for more tosses and his semi-regular pleading with Matsubara that he’ll let him sit on his shoulders for a few blocks, so he could ambush Tsukishima outside the school gates. Tsukishima blinks. Hinata feels a tad confused by how honestly surprised he appears to find Hinata’s waited for him. What did he expect to happen with all that glaring?

“You’re the one being weird.” He says at last, adjusting his glasses on his nose in such a way that it’s impossible for Hinata to see what kind of face he’s making.

“How am I being weird?” Hinata’s hands shake on the handlebars of his bike. If Tsukishima really does want to punch him at least he’ll be able to use his bike as a weapon. Or to make a quick getaway.

“How am I being weird?” Tsukishima mimics, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you looking for a fight, huh?” Hinata tries his best to channel Tanaka’s growl, puckering his lips just so, but resists calling Tsukishima a punk because he’s not sure how well that would go down. Tsukishima’s face smooths out into an impressive blank.

“Why would I want to fight you?” And for once he doesn’t make it sound like an insult, like fighting Hinata would be a waste of his time because he’s so small it’d be too easy to simply step on him to squish him into oblivion. He makes it sound like there’s no reason he’d want to fight Hinata. Which doesn’t make a shred of sense.

“I don’t know!” He shakes his bike inbetween them for emphasis. “You’re the one who’s been staring at me like you’re trying to set me on fire!”

“Oh.” For a bizarre moment Hinata thinks he catches a blush blooming high on Tsukishima’s cheeks. But then Tsukishima coughs and Hinata blinks and it looks more like a reflection of the pink sky. “Sorry. I didn’t realise.” Hinata’s stomach drops.

“Sorry?” Has Tsukishima ever apologised to him before? Maybe this isn’t Tsukishima after all and the real one has been abducted by aliens and is being experimented on as they speak. Or worse yet the real Tsukishima was consumed by the lizard people and they’re using his body as a shell to infiltrate the human world. “Why are you sorry?”

“Idiot.” Tsukishima shifts uncomfortably. “I didn’t mean to stare. I just–” He glances down at Hinata, eyes narrowing when he takes in the face Hinata’s making; equal parts perplexed and terrified. “Forget it.” He huffs out a breath and starts to stalk off in the direction of his house.

“Oi!” Hinata’s bike rattles into life next to him as he takes off after Tsukishima. “You can’t just apologise and not even tell me why!” Tsukishima glares at him over his shoulder.

“Of course I can.”

“You can not!”

“Says who?” He rolls his eyes when he’s met with silence, muttering moron darkly under his breath.

“It’s– it’s impolite!” Tsukishima slows his walking fractionally, eyeing the way Hinata’s chewing on his lip warily.

“It’s impolite to apologise?”

“N-not to apologise,” Hinata falters, unsure really where he was going with this, “but to try to murder someone with your mind all week and not even tell them why!” He puffs out his cheeks as best as he can.

“I wasn’t trying to murder you.”

“Then what were you doing?” Tsukishima stops walking. Hinata’s bike is so surprised that it almost rolls right into him. There’s a moment where Tsukishima contemplates his shoes and fiddles with the strap on his bag and he looks younger than Hinata ever remembers him looking before. Softer somehow. If he wasn’t holding onto his bike he might have even been tempted to reach out to touch him. Then his eyes flicker up to meet Hinata’s and the moment slides just out of reach.

“You shouldn’t let your dating life interfere with practice.”

“Wha– wha–” Hinata gapes. The crazy part is that Tsukishima looks serious.

“This is our last year. We shouldn’t lose focus.” Hinata can feel a shrill laugh bubbling up his throat because it sounds like Tsukishima is lecturing him on being more focused on volleyball.

“You’re a lizard person!” Yelps out before the laugh manages to, shocking them both.

“I’m a what?” Tsukishima blinks. Hinata grins.

“You’re a lizard, Harry.” Tsukishima’s nose wrinkles in on itself before his eyes widen slowly and he groans up at the sky.

“You’re an idiot.” But he’s laughing, smile wide and natural. It’s not often Hinata gets to see him like this. It’s kind of cute, pink sun dusting across his cheeks and hair, smile stretched like a moon. Hinata would tell him if he didn’t think that would chase the scowl back in. Tsukishima steps up close into Hinata’s personal space and pinches his nose roughly between two fingers. “No need to look so smug about it.”

“I’m not dating anyone.” His voice comes out all squished and nasally.

“Oh.”

“Who said I was?” Tsukishima lets go of his nose.

“You’ll get scouted you know.”

“Eh?”

“There’s no way a university won’t want you.”

“You’re not making any sense!” Hinata gestures wildly with one hand, keeping his bike upright with his other.

“But if you’re really worried about grades then you know I’d help you right?”

“You’d call me an idiot the entire time!” Hinata points out, wondering if any of this makes sense to Tsukishima.

“It’s not my fault you’re an idiot!”

“You’re a bigger idiot!” Tsukishima flicks him on the forehead. “Ow!”

“So you’ll stop going to cram school now?” Hinata’s starting to feel like he’s woken up in the wrong dimension.

“Stop going?” He looks up and down the road just to see if this has been a strangely elaborate prank that he’s not getting. “I’ve never even been to cram school!” He doesn’t even know where the closest one is. And that’s not because he’s never needed a cram school, but the idea of sitting in a stuffy classroom to go over all the verb forms he learnt that day makes him feel physically ill. How sickeningly boring.

“You’ve not been going to cram school?” Tsukishima narrows his eyes. “Study group?”

“Are you trying to insult my grades? Because I got a B+ on my last lab report!” And failed his last history exam and maybe his geography teacher has pinned up his sketch of Japan because she found all the placements of provinces funny, but Hinata’s never really been the type of person who focuses too much on the negatives.

“And you’re not dating? Anyone at all?”

“I think I’d know if I was!”

“Then!” Tsukishima pinches the bridge of his own nose and inhales deeply. “Then what are you doing?”

“What are you talking about?” Hinata’s about one confusion away from using his bike as both the weapon and the getaway vehicle. Tsukishima doesn’t often make as much sense as Hinata would like, but he rarely looks this constipated, so something must have happened that Hinata’s missed.

“After practice,” Tsukishima hedges unsurely, “sometimes after practice you’ve been running away.”

“Ah!” Hinata hadn’t thought anyone had noticed. “I’m not missing any practice, am I?”

“No.” It appears admitting that is painful for Tsukishima in some way. “But it’s still troublesome.”

“Eh? How?” If anything Hinata leaving a little earlier a couple of days a week would be something he’d imagine Tsukishima enjoying.

“When you’re not there Takagi sticks to me.” That doesn’t even sound close to the truth; Tsukishima’s not a great liar.

“Takagi sticks to you even when I am there.” Hinata tries not to pout thinking about Takagi’s earnest face buzzing around Tsukishima’s scowling one at practice. He sort of liked having a little crow bird under his wing to teach volleyball stuff to.

“Only because you told him you were doing stuff.” Tsukishima does that annoying thing where he cocks one eyebrow and leans all of his weight onto one hip, staring down at Hinata menacingly. He could lie. Or he could act like Tsukishima’s been imagining things and he’s been staying at practice extra time just like always. Or–

“Arghhh,” he kicks his bike stand out so he can use both of his hands to drag his face down dramatically, “fine! But you can’t tell anyone or I’ll tell everyone you’re a lizard!” Tsukishima’s mouth twitches.

“Fine.”

“I’ve been coaching Natsu. My sis–”

“I know who Natsu is.”

“Oh. Well. There.” Hinata turns away as if to leave. This has all been a huge waste of his Saturday. He could be home already by now, playing online games with Kenma. Instead he’s allowed himself to be caught up in Tsukishima’s weirdness.

“Coaching her doing what?”

“Eh?” When Hinata turns to look back, Tsukishima doesn’t look like he wants to poke fun at him at all. In fact, if Hinata had to guess, he’d say Tsukishima looks… oddly sincere.

“Is she going to follow in your volleyball shadow?” He’s staring at his own shoes again and Hinata suddenly remembers Tsukishima has an older brother that played volleyball for Karasuno. They’ve never talked about it directly but Saeko told Tanaka who told him. Or maybe Sawamura told Kuroo who told Kenma who told him?

“No. She was going to, I think just to copy me, but then this year at school she fell in love with swimming.”

“Swimming?”

“Yeah, I think she wandered in by accident during swim practice and it looked cool or something. But now it’s all she talks about!” It’s a little annoying sometimes if he’s honest. “And she’d never really swam before so she sucks.”

“Worse than you did at volleyball?” Hinata pokes out his tongue, secretly delighted at Tsukishima using the past tense.

“Yeah! She couldn’t even swim one width without clinging onto the sides or me before!”

“Oh.”

“You know how it is.” Hinata shrugs. It’s been kind of fun helping her with something meaningful.

Her swim club practices are a little longer on Tuesdays and Thursdays (and shorter on Mondays and Wednesdays due to some timetable conflict that Hinata has been told about at least half a dozen times but can never remember) so if he hurries he can make it to her school just as practice is finishing up. And her coach is really friendly and helpful, letting them use the pool for an extra hour or two of personal practice; she doesn’t even stick around to keep an eye on them most of the time, telling them simply to let her know when they’re leaving.

Natsu’s kind of old to be a beginner, but they’ve never been pool people as a family and when they’ve holidayed at the beach Hinata’s always dragged her along to hunt for crabs; she’s an expert at wading water. But she’s keen and determined and she picked up the basics pretty quickly. Now they work on her stamina and diving and confidence. Hinata glances up at Tsukishima with a smile and a shrug that he hopes conveys his you know how it is because Hinata himself remembers what it was like learning how to swim – not that he’s an expert now, but he knows enough to help Natsu – only to find Tsukishima staring back at him in dismay.

“Tsukishima–?” Hinata peers up at him, wondering absently if this is when the lizard will crawl out of him and prove him right all along. He takes a hold of his bike handles. Just in case.

“Uhm, yeah, of course. I know.” The colour drops from Tsukishima’s face.

“Wah!” Tsukishima looks like he might actually punch him now, but as always Hinata’s mouth runs away before his brain can stop it. “You don’t know how to swim?”

“Shut up, idiot!” His teeth snap together angrily. “Of course I can swim, what kind of person gets all the way to high school without knowing how to–”

“It’s okay!” Hinata holds up a hand to cut across. “I won’t tell anyone!”

“I–” Tsukishima falters, “thanks.” He pauses for a moment, as if he’s going to say something else, but then shakes his head and turns to walk away.

□          □          □

“So you told him you’d tell nobody then the first thing you do when you get home is tell me? Kinda harsh Shou.” Kenma smiles warmly at him through his computer screen, so he knows he’s only joking, but it still makes him feel a little bit guilty.

“Telling you is different!” There was next to zero chance this would be the kind of thing Kenma would pass on to Lev or any of his other Nekoma teammates anyway, and since Kenma’s moved to university it’s even less likely. Lev’s actually sent him messages asking how Kenma is because Kenma’s failed to reply to his texts for over a fortnight.

“I get it, I get it.” Kenma slurps out of his instant noodle cup noisily; he likes drinking the soupy part first. “But it’s not so weird I think. You don’t need to be able to swim to be good at volleyball.”

“Great at volleyball!”

“Yah, that too.” Hinata’s always loved how when Kenma nods his hair shimmies slightly. “The bean pole’s been doing fine so far, so why does it matter?”

“Because!” Hinata has no idea why it matters. “Because swimming is fun!”

“Mhm, for you maybe.” Kenma points at him with a chopstick. “I don’t really like swimming.”

“Only because the chlorine messes with the bleach in your hair.”

“We all have our reasons.”

“It went all green like a mermaid last summer.” Kenma pokes his camera as if his chopstick can reach through to Hinata.

“I thought we agreed never to talk about that.”

“Right!” Hinata salutes. It’s a secret, except for the fifty or so photos he and Kuroo took that weekend. It really was cute!

“And you’re all hung up on the wrong part of the story, by the way.”

“Eh?” Hinata tips his head to regard Kenma better. “What do you mean?”

“You told me days ago you felt weird.”

“Yeah?” Kenma picks a single noodle out of his cup and sucks it up.

“So,” he chews consideringly, “it was Tsukishima this whole time?”

“Uhm, I guess?”

“Interesting.” Hinata drops his head onto his desk.

“You find really weird stuff interesting.” Which isn’t news to Hinata; he doesn’t dislike this about Kenma either.

“What was it he said to you first, don’t date people?” Hinata rolls his head to rest on his chin so he can blink at Kenma.

“More like, don’t get distracted from practice, I think?”

“And the distraction was the dating?”

“I guess?”

“Interesting.” Kenma gets a full mouthful this time, cheeks puffing out like a hamsters as they’re stuffed with noodles.

“I don’t get how that’s interesting.” Hinata being dateless is the theme of his life. Tsukishima not being able to swim is brand new!

“Well I’m not going to tell you,” Kenma mumbles around his mouthful, “that takes all of the fun out of it for me.”

“Eh? Then what are you going to do?”

“Shou,” Kenma swallows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “it’s more like what are you going to do?”

□          □          □

When Tsukishima wakes up he’s relieved that it’s a Sunday and there’s no practice. Which is weird. Tsukishima hasn’t dreaded going to practice for a long time. But now he has no idea how he’s supposed to look Hinata in the face after he accidentally gave away too much. He can’t shake the way Hinata’s face had looked.

You don’t know how to swim?

Like it didn’t make sense to him that Tsukishima wouldn’t know, that anyone wouldn’t know.

You don’t know how to swim?

And it wasn’t even mean or mocking – which Tsukishima almost wanted because at least that’s familiar to him – but mystified. His eyes blown wide with something almost like pity.

You don’t know how to swim?

Why not? He hadn’t asked, but Tsukishima can tell he was dying to, his skin almost vibrating with curiosity. Why didn’t he know? Because they didn’t really go to the pool either, as a family. Because his brother prioritised teaching him how to play volleyball before that all went tits up. Because Yamaguchi’s never once mentioned they should go to the pool and it’s not like Tsukishima would ever go on his own.

You don’t know how to swim?

Except none of those are the real reason. Not even close. And Tsukishima’s uncertain how he’ll be able to face Hinata now. He was able to read the truth from one of Tsukishima’s carefully constructed blank expressions yesterday. How had he done that? Has he always been able to do that?

“Kei!” Tsukishima rolls over, groaning into his pillow. Normally his mum doesn’t shout at him to do his homework or help with the housework for another couple of hours. He’d scheduled in self-pity time for this morning. “Kei!”

“What?” He rolls out of his bed, grabbing his glasses from his bedside table and cleaning them on his pyjama shirt. He kicks open his door and plods down the stairs.

“Your friend is here.” Tsukishima didn’t plan anything with Yamaguchi today, but it’s not so weird of him to turn up uninvited. Only when Tsukishima glances at the doorway he’s met with a shock of orange half a foot shorter.

“Pfft, cute hair-style.” Tsukishima shoves his glasses onto his face, as if maybe his eyesight is finally so bad he’s started to hallucinate, but all that achieves is the fuzz falling away and Hinata’s bright smile sliding into view.

“Honestly.” His mum tuts fondly, smoothing a hand across his head in an attempt to tame his hair. Tsukishima only swats her away because he’s aware of Hinata’s eyes watching him.

“Why are you here?”

“Kei.” His mum scolds, but she’s always been too nice for it to have any meaningful effect.

“Ah!” Hinata flaps his hands around. “Don’t worry Tsukishima-san, he’s probably forgotten like I thought!” Tsukishima narrows his eyes. He doesn’t like this situation at all.

“Forgotten?”

“Kei, Hinata-kun was just telling me you guys have plans to go swimming today.”

□          □          □

In his past life Tsukishima thinks he must have been a grossly incompetent politician of some kind, responsible for the downfall of an entire nation, because it’s the only explanation for the karma that’s come for him in this life.

Of course his mum was thrilled he’d made plans on a Sunday. Plans that didn’t involve Yamaguchi or volleyball. Of course she was smitten with how polite and endearing Hinata was, happily setting him an extra place for breakfast even though he chirped on about how he’d already eaten. Of course she beamed at the two of them and brushed them out of the door as soon as Tsukishima had thrown on some clothes, not once thinking to question why her son, of all people, would be going swimming.

“Why are you even up at this time?” Hinata had propped his bike against Tsukishima’s front door, saying they’d walk and it’s maybe the first time they’ve truly walked side by side alone like this. Tsukishima doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Eh?” Hinata wriggles his phone out of his pocket and squints at it. “It’s already half nine!”

“How do you know where I live?”

“I asked Tadashi!”

“Fantastic.” Tsukishima pokes his pockets for his own phone only to realise he’s left it plugged in on his night stand. He’ll have to remember to text Yamaguchi about his official demotion from best friend status when he gets home. This is beyond troublesome.

“I’ve never been to this swimming pool before. I just looked up ones close in your area.” Tsukishima stops walking.

“We’re not actually going swimming.” Hinata turns to look at him, confused.

“Yes we are.”

“No. We’re not.”

“Well then where are we going?” Hinata throws his hands into the air.

“As if I know!” Tsukishima sort of thought he was being blackmailed into buying Hinata treats or helping him practice more at the park or something. He didn’t think he was actually cruel enough to force him to go swimming.

“I thought,” Hinata fidgets, “I thought if we went early enough there wouldn’t be anybody around anyway.” He deflates pitifully. Tsukishima grits his teeth and starts to walk again.

“What’s in the bag?”

 “Ah!” Hinata springs into life, jumping back into place at his side. “Swimming stuff!”

□          □          □

Swimming stuff, as it turns out, is two towels, some shower gel and shampoo, goggles, and four pairs of swimming trunks that Tsukishima is definitely not going to fit into.

“These ones are my dad’s, he’s not as tall as you but he’s wider so I guessed they might fit you.”

“I’m not wearing your father’s swimming trunks.”

“Eh? Why not? I washed them!” Tsukishima wants to slam his head into the changing room walls.

“They’re… short.” The ones Hinata’s holding up as his own are at least twice in length. They’d dangle down to Hinata’s knees. How comes he’s the one that has to have his thighs out?

“Oh.” Hinata’s eyes shoot between the ones lined up on the bench and the pair in his hands. “You can wear these if you prefer!” He holds the longer ones out to Tsukishima. “I just thought they’d be… uhm… tight on you.” Hinata’s face glows as red as his hair and Tsukishima thinks the weird coughing noise came from him too.

“They’re fine.” Tsukishima grabs at them, trying to ignore the tightness in his throat and the thudding in his chest. At least they’ll cover his thighs. It doesn’t matter if they’re a little tight; they’d scoped out the pool before they’d shuffled into the changing rooms and Hinata was right, the only people here are an elderly couple swimming a slow breast stroke around the pool.

“Okay,” Hinata smiles encouragingly and picks up a pair from the bench, “and don’t forget to put on a cap!” He throws a plain black one at Tsukishima before turning away to get changed.

“Right.” Tsukishima swaps his jeans and boxers for Hinata’s lime green trunks. That have goldfish swimming all over them. They are kind of tight, but they have an adjustable drawstring so it’s not so bad. In the water it’ll hardly be noticeable.

He hesitates when it comes to his top. When they’d left he had thought Hinata was joking and he hasn’t brought a spare t-shirt. If he gets this one wet he supposes he could zip his hoodie up and walk home like that. Only Hinata would know.

“You ready?” Hinata’s stood, hands on his hips like some kind of B-rated superhero, tufts of orange trying desperately to curl out from under his cap. His thighs bared for all the world. He’s had to pull the drawstrings tight and double knot them from where he’s a few sizes smaller than his dad, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s not wearing a top.

“Uhm–” Tsukishima thinks he might be sick. Which would be sort of funny considering Hinata’s their barfing mascot.

“What’s wrong?” Hinata steps closer to him, bravado falling away as he peers up at Tsukishima with concern. “It’s normal to be nervous you know. We’ll only go in the shallow end where even I can stand up!” He forces a laugh and the fact he’s poking fun at his own height shows Tsukishima how worried he is.

“Do I have to take my top off?” Hinata blinks in surprise.

“To get in the pool? I think so?” He chews on his lip, studying Tsukishima, “I could ask if you want. Maybe because it’s not busy yet they won’t mind if we bend the rules.”

“No. Don’t ask anyone.” If they said no Tsukishima would be mortified. And then everyone would be watching him to see why he’d wanted to keep it on in the first place. “It’s fine.”

It’s just Hinata, he tells himself as he turns away. Just shitty, stupid, loud Hinata. The same Hinata who once vomited all over Tanaka. The same Hinata who gets himself tangled in his bedsheets at every training camp. Just Hinata, who squawks louder than anyone else Tsukishima’s ever known, and tries to start fights outside of bathrooms regularly. Hinata’s nothing but a dumbass. So it doesn’t matter if he sees.

Three years of carefully changing his shirt hunched behind his locker door seem almost ridiculous when all Hinata does is let out a little gasp when Tsukishima tugs his top over his head. There’s no laughter, no ridicule, no punchline. Just a little gasp. And then silence. He wipes his forehead on his top and sighs.

“What happened?” It’s the same voice as yesterday. The one so close to pity that it makes something unknown clench inside Tsukishima. He doesn’t want to be pitied by anyone, but especially not his teammates. He tries to shrug nonchalantly, turning to look at Hinata over his shoulder.

“I grew.” Hinata’s eyes jump from his face to his back, wide and curious, but not repulsed. “Really fast.” He twists slowly so Hinata can see where the marks skate across his skin, deep purple lines that shine across his back and sides.

“Oh.” Hinata tips his head. “Do they hurt?” Tsukishima watches in stunned silence as Hinata reaches out and smooths his thumb across one of his stretch marks. One of the thicker ones carved into his side.

“No.” He tries to keep his voice level as Hinata’s entire hand follows his thumb, tracing the stretch mark onto his back. Hinata might have the smallest hands in the world, but they’re still the first to ever touch him like this. “They’re just ugly.”

“They’re not ugly.” Hinata states firmly, voice harder than Tsukishima’s ever heard before. He jerks when Hinata’s other hand catches a mark at the base of his spine. “Ah! Sorry.” Hinata steps away all at once; hands falling from Tsukishima’s skin reluctantly. “I should have asked.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Tsukishima ducks his head into his swimming cap, trying not to notice how his skin continues to tingle even though Hinata’s no longer touching him.

“Is this why–?” Tsukishima tries to glare, but he imagines the effect is ruined by the fact he’s stood in a swimming cap and lime green trunks covered in goldfish because Hinata powers on as if he’s not wishing he’d spontaneously combust with his mind. “Is this why you’ve never learnt to swim?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course!” Hinata puffs out his cheeks and wrinkles his nose. “You shouldn’t let things like this stop you!”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Tsukishima’s fingers itch with the want to put his top back on. He shouldn’t have trusted Hinata with this; of course he’s going to make it into a big deal. Hinata barks a laugh, void of any warmth.

“I wouldn’t understand? Are you kidding?” Tsukishima watches as Hinata shakes his head; it’s weird not to see his hair bobbing with him when he does that. “How many times, how many people, do you think have told me my body is too small for volleyball?”

“I–”

“Yourself included!” Tsukishima flinches at that. Because it’s true. Hinata sweeps his hands down the length of him, encompassing his entire body slowly. “I’m eighteen and still under five foot five. When I step onto the court nobody ever mentions how cool my hairdo is, or how old my trainers look, or even how serious my face is. They don’t comment on my past games or my stats. They always look first at my height.” He slaps his bare belly, smile soft. “But that’s fine because I can’t get another body. So I just have to make sure I keep surprising them with what this one can do.”

“It’s different.” Tsukishima watches pink seep onto Hinata’s belly where he’d just slapped it.

“How?”

“Your body,” Tsukishima’s eyes drop all of the way to Hinata’s toes and climb back up to his face. He’s short sure. And a little on the skinny side. But his legs are well defined from all his endless jumping and cycling and his belly isn’t just toned but smooth too. Hinata’s leg hair is fine enough that it doesn’t hide the skin underneath and apart from a freckle here and a mole there he’s blemish free. Not a spot or a scar or a stretch mark in sight. Your body is perfect, he wants to say. “Your body isn’t ugly.” He settles on, face burning enough as it is.

“Pfft!” Hinata rolls his eyes dramatically. “Tsukishima,” he spreads his arms out wide, “you’re the least ugly person in this entire room!” He smiles so warmly that Tsukishima feels it reflect onto his own face.

“Idiot.”

“Moron.”

“Stupid.”

“Blockhead.”

“Nincompoop!” Hinata pokes his tongue out, eyes crinkled closed. “Now let’s swim!” He runs off with a cackle, leaving Tsukishima with no choice but to follow after him.

“Idiot.”

“You said that already!”

□          □          □

The elderly couple don’t even pause in their strokes as Hinata splashes into the shallow end. Tsukishima had sort of expected he’d jump right into the deep end and heckle Tsukishima to follow, maybe even yell out a taunting look it’s easy!, so he’s surprised when he pauses at the bottom step and turns to Tsukishima with his hand held out.

“It’s a little cold at first, but you get used to it.” Tsukishima feels weirdly self-conscious about taking Hinata’s hand, eyes flitting about to make sure the life guard is still fiddling with her phone. His hand feels a lot sturdier than it looks. “It’s okay,” Hinata’s voice is only a hair above a whisper; “I’ve got you.”

“Shut up.” Tsukishima focuses on Hinata’s face as he takes his first step in. It’s not too cold and the first step only allows the water to lick around his ankles. He’s waded in puddles deeper than this. He glances at his feet as he walks further in, step-by-step, watching the water as it creeps up his shins and over his knees.

“Wahoo! You did it!” Hinata squeezes his hand and it’s only then that Tsukishima notices he’s run out of steps.

“It’s not very deep.” The water is just licking at the bottom of his trunks.

“That’s what I like to hear! Fighting words!” Hinata crows into the air a little louder this time, apologising sheepishly when the life guard glances up from her phone.

“You’re embarrassing.”

“Yup!” Hinata appears to find this massively complimentary. “And like this everyone is focused on me and not you.” He winks, probably out of habit, but Tsukishima can feel his ears burning.

“Why are you doing this for me?” Normally around this time on a Sunday Tsukishima would be catching up on the anime he missed during the week, maybe with his mum curled up on the other end of the sofa. He’d help her with the weekly shop, clean the kitchen and the bathroom – which used to be Akiteru’s chore, but has been inherited by Tsukishima since he left for university because their mum already does enough – and sweep the house. Maybe Yamaguchi would come over for lunch and they’d goof around pretending to be doing their homework.

He has no idea what Hinata’s usual Sunday is like, has never once thought to ask, but whatever it is it’s surely infinitely more entertaining and rewarding than waking up at the crack of dawn to cycle over to Tsukishima’s house and take him swimming.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hinata’s grinning slyly, his other hand curled around Tsukishima’s tightly; Tsukishima didn’t even notice him take it.

“No.” It’s only when water sloshes into his belly button that Tsukishima realises they’ve been walking this entire time. He panics for a second, but Hinata’s grip remains firm, tugging him along gently.

“Because we’re friends, dumbass.”

□          □          □

Hinata would really like to take full credit, but he has the sneaking suspicion that both of his students are just weirdly talented individuals. Natsu had jumped straight in the deep end with fierce determination and then howled afterwards, clinging to the side as she swum around, kicking her legs in all directions. It only took her two weeks before she was doggy paddling the width of the pool.

Tsukishima doesn’t cling to the sides. He clings to Hinata.

Every Sunday for the past month Hinata has woken up earlier than usual and peddled over to Tsukishima’s house. His mum always answers the door, bright and cheerful as Tsukishima appears rumpled and scowling at the bottom of the stairs. They eat breakfast, usually with Tsukishima kicking him under the table and then they walk to the pool.

The elderly couple have started to wave to them in greeting, the life guard so nonplussed by their Sunday morning ritual that she no longer looks up from her phone even when Hinata wails with each new triumph. They’ve worked their way into the very deep end, where even Tsukishima’s feet can’t touch the floor any more, but Tsukishima still won’t let go of Hinata’s hands. From the moment his first toe touches the water he holds his hand out for Hinata to take and every time Hinata finds himself catching it. He’d dug his knuckles into Natsu’s head when she’d clung to the side way longer than she needed to, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to do the same to Tsukishima.

That’s going to change today though. At least in the shallow end. Tsukishima’s mastered sploshing his feet out behind him as Hinata drags him around the pool and this is Tsukishima, middle blocker extraordinaire, so getting his arms and hands to do what they need to be doing should be the easy part.

It does not go according to plan. Hinata leads Tsukishima out into the middle of the shallow end – hip-high for Tsukishima – and starts off with getting him to kick his legs as usual as he leads him around. Then he lets go of one hand. Tsukishima flails at first, panic creeping into his eyes, but he does well. He’s very talented after all. His free arm cuts through the water with barely any resistance, strokes so strong and direct that Hinata thinks at first it’s going to be a breeze. Except–

“Stop doing that!” Tsukishima stands up, snorting water out of his nose from where he’d just crashed face first into the surface. Every time Hinata lets go it’s like his body seizes and he becomes useless in the water.

“It’s the next step.”

“The next step is me dying?” Tsukishima snaps his goggles onto his head so he can glare at Hinata properly.

“You can swim perfectly with your left arm,” Hinata holds his arm up for him to demonstrate, “you can swim perfectly with your right arm,” he holds that one out too in case Tsukishima was unsure. “You just need to work them together.” Hinata moves Tsukishima’s arms for him, slowly, one after the other, to demonstrate what his arms should be doing together in the water.

“This is stupid.”

“You say that every time and you always manage to do it.” The scowl he gets sent lets Hinata know he’s right.

“It’s hard to concentrate on everything at once,” Tsukishima admits eventually, fiddling his goggles back into place so Hinata’s partially blocked from his embarrassment.

“Wah! Good idea!” Hinata tugs him over to the edge of the pool. “We need to focus on moving your arms in tandem! Ignore your legs.”

“Ignore my legs?” Tsukishima sounds sceptical.

“I know they’re long and shapely and hard to ignore, but work with me, okay?”

“Long and sha–?”

“So,” Hinata scoops his hand behind Tsukishima’s knee, lifting his leg right out of the water and hopes the shock and the splash will knock what Hinata just said right out of Tsukishima’s memory. Long and shapely. Why did he say that? He keeps one hand under Tsukishima’s lower back as he plants Tsukishima’s foot onto the side of the pool. “Just like this.” Tsukishima splutters, hand gripping onto Hinata’s arm.

“And this is helping?”

“Well not yet it isn’t. Put your other foot next to it.” It takes a moment of sploshing and Tsukishima cursing before his left foot lands next to his right on the side. “There we are.” Hinata moves himself to stand behind Tsukishima’s head, making sure not to stop supporting him at any point; his hands rest just under Tsukishima’s shoulders. “Now you don’t need to worry about what your legs are doing.”

“You’re a special kind of stupid, you know that?” Hinata uses one hand to carefully pull back Tsukishima’s goggles and let them snap back into his face. “Oi!”

“Trust me, this is how all professional swimmers learn.” Tsukishima snorts, but does seem to relax somewhat, his midriff floating up to the surface of the water without any further prompting. “Good!” Hinata enjoys praising Tsukishima mostly for how pink his ears glow. He floats back around to Tsukishima’s side, lifting his arm up as he goes and making sure his hands remain under him at all times. It could be bad if he panicked with his legs propped up on the side.

“Now what?” Tsukishima’s raised his other arm by himself.

“Now you’re a starfish.” Tsukishima uses the arm closest to Hinata to splash water at him. “Stretch your arms above your head.”

“What, so I can be a squid?”

“What kinds of squids have you seen?” Tsukishima growls. “Just do it already, stupid.” Hinata pinches his side lightly, smiling when all he’s met with is an odd assortment of grumbles and Tsukishima raising his arms above his head. “Great!”

“Shut up.”

“Now rotate your arms like before, just backwards.”

“Why backwards?”

“Because you’re on your back.”

“Right.” With his arms stretched above his head there’s no real way for Tsukishima to hide the blush spreading out from under his goggles. He moves slower, less sure of himself than when they’ve been trying front crawl, tipping his head back as if he needs to be able to see his arms to make sure they’re doing what he wants them to be.

“Look at the ceiling.” Tsukishima frowns.

“Why?”

“Those patterns look like a crow to me.”

“You’ve been brainwashed.” But Tsukishima tips his chin back down and focuses up at the ceiling instead of his arms. “It’s clearly a dinosaur.”

“Oh yeah? What kind?”

“Maybe an Iguanodon…”

“Try to move them one at a time, not together. Left, then right. Left. Right. Good. Why an Iguanodon?”

“That curve could be its spine and then that one connecting to it its tail.”

“Huh.” Hinata lifts Tsukishima’s feet back into the water slowly, placing them against the wall.

“And those two lumpier parts could be its legs; the narrower ones it’s arms.”

“How do you know they’re legs and arms and not four legs?”

“Bone structure mostly.” Hinata guides Tsukishima’s body away from the wall slowly, hands supporting his back as he shuffles towards the centre of the pool.

“Great, now kick very gently.” Tsukishima’s feet paddle slowly. “You know a lot about dinosaurs, huh?”

“No more than average.”

“More than I do!”

“Like that’s hard.”

“Ney, Tsukishima?” Hinata lets his hands float slowly downwards into the water. Still there, just in case.

“Mhm?”

“You’re swimming.”

□          □          □

“Did something good happen to you yesterday?” Kageyama is watching Hinata over the top of his milk box with a curious expression on his face.

“Uhm,” Hinata thinks about the slow smile that had unravelled across Tsukishima’s face as he'd stared up at the swimming pool's ceiling. Definitely an Iguanodon. He’s way more of a dork than Hinata ever realised. But the swimming thing is a secret. That Kenma’s secretly in on. “Not particularly. Why?”

“You’ve been humming all day.”

“Ah! Really?” Kageyama’s eyes narrow.

“It’s irritating.”

“Oh.” Hinata chews on the straw of his own milk box. He hadn’t noticed he’d been humming. Maybe that’s why his classmates were staring at him so much. “I guess I’m feeling happy.”

“For no reason?” Hinata nods.

“For no reason.”

□          □          □

Except now that Kageyama’s pointed it out Hinata’s started noticing it. He’s overflowing with how happy he is. He can’t stop smiling at everyone, even his English teacher when he announces they’re going to have a surprise grammar test. His happiness seems to leak out of his fingertips because he manages to score a C+ on an English grammar test. He takes a photo to send to his mum inbetween lessons. A C+. On an English grammar test.

He whistles all the way to practice at the end of the day, looping an arm around Kageyama’s neck and hugging him when he starts complaining he’s being irritating again.

“I can’t help it!” He ruffles Kageyama’s hair fondly until he’s shoved away.

“Pfft,” Yamaguchi catches him before he fully topples over, “what’s gotten into you?” Hinata shrugs, leaping into his kit in record time and running to the gym.

“He’s happy.” He hears Kageyama mutter darkly to Yamaguchi.

“Tsukishima!” Hinata’s never been great at masking his emotions so he’s sure Tsukishima can see how close to bursting he is when he looks up from the bench he’s sat on to tape his fingers. But he doesn’t mention it, grunting in greeting and handing Hinata the tape when he’s finished. Hinata fidgets, inexplicably restless. He wants to tell Tsukishima how he’s only just realised how proud he is of him and how he’s dying to tell at least Yamaguchi so that someone can share in this feeling of his. So someone else can congratulate him too. He's really amazing. He deserves to be told by as many people as possible.

“What’s wrong?” Tsukishima flicks his jittering knee and Hinata almost laughs.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Tsukishima looks unconvinced, but that hardly matters. “Ney, can we practice blocking together today?” 

“Ukai said we were running stamina drills today… remember?”

“Ah!” Hinata smacks his head. “I forgot.” He’s never asked Tsukishima to practice with him before and it kind of stings to be rejected so swiftly when he knows Tsukishima practices with Takagi nearly every day. Not enough to burst his bubble, but enough to take the edge off.

“Idiot.” Tsukishima’s hand lands solidly on the back of his head, ruffling his hair. “We can practice on Wednesday.”

“Okay!” Hinata jumps up, worried that if he doesn’t do something he’ll start screaming, and decides to begin his warm up by running laps around the gym.

□          □          □

Probably, Tsukishima thinks, there’s something grossly wrong with him. The signs have been there for years now, but he’s never paid any notice before. Because when Hinata asks him if they can practice together he doesn’t say no like he should – like he would have done a few months ago. He tells him they can practice on Wednesday as he ruffles his hair and then spends the next two days annoyed by how soft Hinata’s hair felt between his fingers.

And on Wednesday when Takagi starts to tremble with excitement when he notices Hinata bounding over to practice, Tsukishima finds himself calling out to him and rolling his eyes when he almost falls over in his rush to get to them.

“Bara-chan!” Hinata waves his arms above his head as if Matsubara isn’t all of ten feet away. “You come too! It’s a middle blockers party!” Matsubara nods and makes his way towards them, leaving Ukai with the other second years, which might work out best for everyone anyway as both Hirata and Kabuto are wing spikers.

“In what way is practice a party?”

“Well! We’ve never practiced like this before!” Hinata squeezes a ball between his palms as if he’s trying to flatten it out, eyes shining like stars. And the fact that that alone makes Tsukishima smile instead of scowl tells him that there’s definitely something wrong with him.

□          □          □

“Nice teamwork today Tsukki!” Tsukishima narrows his eyes as he shuts his locker door.

“You too, Captain.” Yamaguchi punches his arm.

“I told you that’s embarrassing!” He rolls his eyes as he ducks down to grab his bag.

“You started it.”

“But you really did have nice teamwork today!” Yamaguchi pouts dramatically. “I noticed the middle blocking drills you guys had going on.”

“Oh.” It’s not like they were meant to be a secret, but Tsukishima still feels strangely exposed. This is Yamaguchi. He can probably see right through him. “Yeah, it was more or less Hinata’s idea.” Sort of.

“Mhm… Well thanks anyway!”

“What for?” Yamaguchi rolls his wrist in a circular motion.

“For trying to be his friend I guess.” He smiles brilliantly as he pats Tsukishima’s shoulder. “And for taking Takagi under your wing. I really didn’t expect him to take a shine to you quite like that. Or for you to continue working with him all this time!”

“You said yourself you want to leave a strong team behind.” Tsukishima shrugs. Actually he thinks the reason why he and Takagi keep latching back onto each other is because they understand each other; they’d both rather be practicing with Hinata. Takagi’s just brave enough to admit it. “You have a meeting with Kageyama and Yachi today, right?”

“Ah, yes.”

“Don’t overwork yourselves.” Tsukishima flicks him on the nose. “And have fun.”

“Right.” Yamaguchi looks after him, a little in a daze. “I’m proud of how much you’ve grown Tsukki.” Tsukishima turns at the door and imagines for a moment telling Yamaguchi it’s mostly thanks to him deciding to be his best friend all those years ago. Even if it has been unbearably troublesome. But instead he smiles, a real one.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry, Tsukki.” And the smile he throws back lets Tsukishima know he’s understood.

Almost like he’s conjured up when people are talking about him, Tsukishima exits the school gates and rounds the corner to spot Hinata leaning against a wall with his bike.

“Tsukishima,” he complains, “you’re always so slow!”

“I think it’s you that’s fast.”

“Right!” Hinata puffs up happily. “I am fast!”

When he giggles Tsukishima’s drawn to the dimples in his cheeks and all at once he realises Yamaguchi’s wrong. He’s not been trying to be friends with Hinata at all; he’s simply stopped trying not to be friends with Hinata. Ever since he met him he’s been actively trying not to be his friend. He must have realised when Hinata first smiled so brightly with a face full of dimples that he was nothing but troublesome and has spent the best part of the last three years shoving him away.

“What do you want?” And all that’s got him is here. Stood next to Hinata with nobody else in sight.

“Since the other guys are busy with their captain-vice-captain-managers meeting…” he trails off, chewing on his bottom lip as his fingers fiddle with the bell on his bike.

“I’m not doing anymore practice.” Tsukishima’s not even sure if his legs will be able to walk him home they’re so worn out from the constant jumping they did today.

“Eh? No!” Hinata shakes his head, hair swishing madly. “Since they’re all busy, want to come to my house for dinner?”

□          □          □

Hinata cycles the whole way to his house with Tsukishima straddling the back of his bike.

“It’s extra strength training!” He yells, cackling with laughter whenever they reach a down slope they can slide down. Tsukishima almost offers to take over for a moment, but he thinks making Hinata cycle is an apt punishment for him forcing him to swim.

Plus sitting on the back, feeling the breeze ruffling through Hinata’s hair and into his face, isn’t the worst thing he’s ever done.

□          □          □

“Ma?” Hinata calls out as he unlocks the door, toeing his shoes off and kicking them to the side haphazardly. Tsukishima unties his and lines them up neatly, fixing Hinata’s for him.

“She forgot the tofu,” a voice calls from further in the house, “so she’s popped back to the shop.”

“Oh, okay then.” Hinata scratches behind his ear. “I’ve got a friend over so we’re going to work on our homework in my room.”

“A friend?” Hinata sighs as Natsu comes thudding into view, thick socks on her feet and hair pulled into two elastics either side of her head. She’s gotten a lot taller than the last time Tsukishima saw her. Then again, he only sees her when she comes to watch Hinata play important tournament games. “Ah! He’s on your team! Number three, right?” She blinks at Tsukishima.

“Uh, yeah.” Hinata snorts behind his hand at how easily flustered he is, so Tsukishima shoves his shoulder. It’s been years since he went to someone’s house like this for the first time. Usually when they study before an exam they all meet at Yamaguchi’s and that’s always as a group. He doesn't know what to do with himself when there's no one else to take the limelight away from him.

“You’re pretty good.” Natsu nods in approval. And usually Tsukishima would have a mean retort prepared for a twelve year old telling he’s him 'pretty good', but this is Natsu, Hinata’s sister. She’s grown up watching Hinata play volleyball. Having her think he’s pretty good is a little different.

“Thanks.” Hinata’s eyes almost bulge out of his head.

“Right.” He kicks Natsu out of the way playfully, steering her along with his hands on her shoulders. “Now you know. So we’ll be in my room working on homework!” He elbows her into an open doorway, leaning back to grab Tsukishima by the wrist and drags him away before she has a chance to recover.

Hinata’s room isn’t as messy as Tsukishima figured it would be. He has a desk in the corner that’s got piles of odd knick-knacks, and magazines stacked artistically on the top, and there’s a dozen or so posters tacked onto his wall seemingly at random. But his futon is made. And there’s no dirty laundry on the floor. Hinata throws open the door of his desk and starts scrambling around, so Tsukishima seats himself on the floor and opens his bag.

“What do you want to start with?” He holds up his chemistry and geography books. Hinata grins over his shoulder.

“We’re not actually going to do homework you dork.” He tosses a case and controller at Tsukishima.

“Mario Kart?” Akiteru took his with him when he went to university. Tsukishima smooths his thumb over the case; he hasn't played this in years. “This is why your grades suck.”

“Fine,” Hinata rolls his eyes, “we’ll work on our knowledge of tectonic plates after I beat you on Rainbow Road. Deal?” He crawls over to Tsukishima with his hand out-stretched. As Tsukishima shakes it it occurs to him this might be the first time they’ve held hands outside of a swimming pool. He coughs, tearing his hand away.

“You mean after I beat you.”

□          □          □

When Tsukishima completes his first lap around the pool without Hinata’s hands hovering around him he feels pretty accomplished. Like maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Hinata barrels into his side, disturbing the water all around them.

“Tsukishima!” His laughter bounces off the walls. “You did it!” His hands cling onto Tsukishima’s side and around his back, completely unphased and unbothered by the marks stretched across them. And Tsukishima, as a general life rule, doesn’t really hug people – people don’t really hug him either – but he finds his own arm curling around Hinata in that moment.

“Yeah,” Hinata doesn’t flinch away from his touch, tucking himself more firmly into Tsukishima’s side. It’s kind of weird and gross because they’re shirtless and soaking wet and they’ve been in the pool longer than usual today because Hinata insisted that they couldn’t stop when they were on such a roll. So Tsukishima’s fingers are a lot more wrinkled and pruney than they normally are as he lets them run down Hinata’s sides. His skin is probably less slimy when it’s dry. “We did it.”

“Let’s do it again! With backstroke!”

“Right now?”

“Of course right now!” He jerks back slightly to peer up at Tsukishima. “We’re on a roll!” Tsukishima stares up at the clock on the wall. It’s creeping closer to eleven. They’ve already been joined by a couple of toddlers and their mother; soon the teenagers will start arriving.

“Next week we’ll get here earlier.” Hinata growls, pulling out a fierce pout. Tsukishima has no choice but to knock him over into the water.

“Hey!” He grins at Hinata’s spluttering face as he pulls himself out of the pool and splashes even more water at him using his feet. “No fair!” Hinata wades towards him, slapping at his legs and tugging his goggles off to fling on the side.

“I never play fair.” 

“Liar.” Hinata shakes his head. It was a lie, but Tsukishima hadn’t actually expected Hinata to have noticed that about him.

“Idiot.” He kicks at him again. Hinata shoves at his leg, laughing and then pauses. His eye narrow critically at Tsukishima’s thighs and Tsukishima’s stomach drops. He glances down. Of course with all the swimming and splashing his trunks have ridden up, bunching high on his thighs and barely covering any skin at all. He shifts, attempting to drag them down.

They're almost as bad as his back. Slashed on his inner thighs and looping on his outer upper thighs are 217 stretch marks. Tsukishima knows because he’s counted them. The ones on his outer thighs aren’t as bad, thin silver wisps that shine in certain lights and are lost in others, but his inner thighs mirror his back; violent purple standing out in stubborn contrast against his pale skin. Hinata hadn’t seemed all that bothered about the ones on Tsukishima’s back, hasn’t mentioned them since the day he first saw them, but it must gross him out. It grosses Tsukishima out after all.

“We should get you your own trunks.” Hinata says at last, glaring at a goldfish. “These ones don’t suit you at all.”

□          □          □

Because they were on a such a roll and because they couldn’t go home without getting at least one celebratory meat bun, followed by a celebratory ice poll, by the time they make their way back to Tsukishima’s house it’s already the afternoon.

“You can stay for lunch, if you want.” It’s the first time Tsukishima’s suggested Hinata stay; normally it’s his mum.

“Hmm,” Hinata's face scrunches in on itself, “but I’ve had to spend so much time with you already!” He cackles at the dark look taking over Tsukishima’s face. “It’s so exhausting having to look at your face all the time.” He blows a loud raspberry in the air between them, squealing when Tsukishima grabs a fist full of his hair to tug on. “Kidding!” He throws up a peace sign, flashing his dimples when Tsukishima tugs his head back even further to look at his face.

“Eh? Tsukki? Hinata?” Hinata’s eyes fall so wide Tsukishima can see his own alarmed reflection in them. He lets go of Hinata’s head, tearing his eyes away from his face as he takes a step away from him. He doesn’t know why but he feels as if he’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima nods a hello, fiddling with his glasses on his face so he can avoid looking at Yamaguchi directly.

“Afternoon!” Hinata waves animatedly, laughing nervously through his shock. Or is he embarrassed? It’s hard for Tsukishima to read his emotions.

“Uhm,” Yamaguchi’s eyes dart between the two of them a little unsure, “I just popped over to see if you wanted to get lunch together?”

“Ah!” Hinata doesn’t look at Tsukishima as he bounces over to where his bike is propped against his house. “I was just going anyway.” Tsukishima frowns.

“Eh?” Yamaguchi looks at Tsukishima for confirmation on that point, but Tsukishima has no idea; Hinata never got around to answering him. “You can eat with us if you want?” Hinata’s bike crunches through his grass.

“Maybe next time.” He waves a hand in Yamaguchi’s general direction, flinging a leg over his bike. “I said I’d be free to Skype Kenma today.” He kicks off the ground, cycling away faster than ever.

“See you tomorrow… I guess…” Yamaguchi stares after him perplexed. “Sorry, Tsukki.” He sighs after a moment.

“What for?”

“Didn’t I interrupt something?” He cocks his head at Yamaguchi curiously.

“Not especially.” The sun catches Hinata’s hair in the distance. It’s kind of funny. Tsukishima almost wants to take a photo and text it to him because he thinks Hinata will find it funny too, but it’s not really the sort of thing they’ve ever text about before.

“Uh-huh.” Yamaguchi sounds wholly unconvinced. “I didn’t realise you guys… hung out outside of practice?” Tsukishima glares at him.

“If you want to ask, just ask.”

“Okay,” Yamaguchi grins, wandering over to stand next to Tsukishima and bumping him with his shoulder. “How comes Hinata was here on a Sunday?” Standing side-by-side looking at Hinata’s ever-retreating back makes it much easier for Tsukishima to part with the truth than if Yamaguchi had asked him face-to-face. And he probably knows it and that’s why he’s done it; he’s always been craftier than people give him credit for.

“We went swimming.”

“O-okay.” Yamaguchi doesn’t turn to stare at him in disbelief, even though he sounds like he wants to.

“We go swimming sometimes.”

“Swimming, as in, in water?”

“No swimming as in in jelly.” He knocks his shoulder back into Yamaguchi’s. “Of course, swimming as in water.”

“Why?”

“I guess,” Tsukishima shrugs, he can’t talk for Hinata but the reason he’s allowed himself to be dragged back every week, when it would have been much easier to stay at home, must be “because it’s fun.”

“Oh.” Yamaguchi shuffles awkwardly. “So you’re swimming as friends?” Heat crawls up Tsukishima’s neck just as Hinata finally disappears over the horizon.

“Yes.”

“These aren’t swimming dates?” 

“No.”

“Ah. Uhm– Tsukki?” Tsukishima turns his head to look at him, frowning at the way Yamaguchi’s twisting his fingers around each other nervously.

“What is it Yamaguchi?”

“Do you wish they were?” Tsukishima groans.

“You’re really troublesome.” Yamaguchi smiles at him sheepishly.

“I’ve been told.” He shrugs as if it can’t be helped; glancing back down the road Hinata’s already cycled away from. Hinata doesn’t live close to Tsukishima at all – left out of the school gates instead of right – but he still cycles over every week on his day off.

“He’s too persistent.” Yamaguchi nods. “And loud.” Another nod. “And annoying. And he doesn’t think anything through, taking great leaps of faith for no logical reason.”

“Mhm, sometimes faith is enough of a reason all on its own, Tsukki.”

“He’s not repulsed by ugly things.”

“And you think that’s a bad thing?” Yamaguchi hedges, eyes sliding over to regard Tsukishima carefully.

“It’s–” Tsukishima thinks of Hinata’s small fingers dipping into his marks, following the path they map out onto his skin as if he was fascinated by them. How whenever he’s touched Tsukishima, guiding his arms, propping his legs, poking his belly, hugging his side, his hands have landed as soft and as sure on the ugly parts of him as they do on his unblemished skin. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing.”

“You don’t count, you’re a weirdo.”

“Hey!” Yamaguchi throws out an elbow at him. “You’re weird too.” It sounds like a compliment when it’s said in Yamaguchi’s kind voice.

“That’s true,” Tsukishima shuffles his weight from one foot to the other, adjusting his glasses on his nose, “only someone truly weird would be wishing they were swimming dates.” He mumbles the last bit and then fakes a cough to give Yamaguchi the option of pretending he hadn’t heard.

“Ah.” Tsukishima chances a glance at Yamaguchi’s face. He looks the picture of happiness.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing!” He rocks up onto the balls of his feet. “Thanks for trusting me Tsukki.” Tsukishima blinks. “Can we get lunch now? I only came to see you because I was hungry.”  

□          □          □

Tsukishima, Hinata confirms, is acting weird – and that’s weird on the Tsukishima Scale of Weirdness. Because he’s always been weird in that sarcastic, loping tall person way. Too clever and too talented and too pretty so to make the scale a little more even he’s an insufferable asshole; otherwise no one would stand a chance.

Only now he’s weird in that he smiles way more than he frowns. Hinata had started to keep a tally on the inside of his locker door when he first wormed a smile out of the bean pole. But he’s since lost count. Tsukishima smiles a lot. He smiles when Takagi manages to block one of Kabuto’s spikes, even laughs at the growl Kabuto lets loose at a first year besting him. Not one of his fake, cold laughs either. A real laugh with crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

He smiles whenever Kageyama praises anyone. As if the simple fact that Kageyama’s making an effort to praise people amuses him somehow. He smiles when Yamaguchi gets called Captain, and when it’s Yamaguchi’s turn to serve and when Yamaguchi calls him Tsukki, which definitely used to make him frown. Hinata even catches him smiling in conversation to Yachi and feels immeasurably comforted that she looks as freaked out as he feels by all this smiling.

It’s unsettling. It makes Hinata’s insides flutter weirdly, kind of like that time Kageyama and Nishinoya dared him to chug a carton of sour milk. Not like he wants to vomit exactly, there’s just something foreign churning about in his gut.

And then it gets worse.

Tsukishima had ruffled his hair. A thing that often annoys him – unless you’re Suga or Sawamura or Tanaka or Noya or Azumane or… maybe his senpai are the exception! Kenma too! – but it just makes him feel like he’s fallen head first into a bubble bath when Tsukishima does it.

Tsukishima had hugged him. Sort of. A side-hug maybe. In any case he definitely wrapped his entire arm around Hinata and then rubbed his side in a soothing way. It hadn’t hit Hinata until he’d gotten home that evening that that wasn’t something they’d ever done before because he’d been so caught up in his euphoria of Tsukishima swimming an entire lap of the pool by himself that it hadn’t really registered.

Tsukishima had tugged his hair. In a playful way. They’ve slapped at each other before. And jabbed and poked and Tsukishima flicks him in the face quite a lot, but the only other time he’s touched his hair was that first time he ruffled it.

And now, weirdest of all: Tsukishima lets Hinata touch him. All the time. He didn’t notice that at first either because Hinata likes touching people, grabby hands, Kenma calls them. He tries to respect people’s boundaries and Tsukishima had always oozed a Look Don’t Touch aura so Hinata hadn’t got too close, but recently it’s like he’s got an aura malfunction because Hinata keeps forgetting to keep his hands to himself.

Tsukishima never tells him off. Or slaps him away. Or looks at him like he’s grown a second head. Just yesterday he flung himself across Tsukishima’s back because he was tired – and why was Tsukishima sat down doing nothing anyway? – and Tsukishima had simply grunted you’re heavy for a shrimp and that was that.

Maybe Tsukishima’s never cared about people touching him. Noya used to mess with him all the time. Tanaka too. They’d even bundle him onto the floor when the situation called for it. Which was often. He’d always just thought they were the exception because they’re Tanaka and Noya and they never really follow any rules. But what if all this time they’ve been the rule?

□          □          □

“Have you ever tried to hug Tsukishima?” Kageyama practically chokes on his drink, milk squirting out of his nose and narrowly missing his shirt only because he jerks forwards so violently that it drips onto the concrete instead. He glares at Hinata, blue eyes icier than ever.

“Have you?” He spits back. Probably he thinks it sounds ludicrous. His eyes slide away from Hinata and he starts to rummage in his bag for tissues. That’s it, Kageyama's evidently decided, that’s all the think-time such a question deserves. He’s dismissed the very idea without any proper consideration whatsoever and it irks Hinata in a way he doesn’t understand. Hugs are nice. People need to be hugged from time to time! Tsukishima is people!

“I hugged him the other day.” Hinata affects a self-important voice, wishing he was reading a magazine so he could carelessly flip a page over in Kageyama’s startled face.

“And you’re still alive?”

“He hugged me back!” Kageyama’s face collapses in on itself.

“You’re telling me… you and Tsukishima… mutually hugged?” He shudders.

“Yep.”

“Gross.”

“We were shirtless at the time.” He only adds in that detail because he’s enjoying how repulsed Kageyama seems.

“You’re going to give me nightmares.” Kageyama fires his empty milk box at Hinata’s head. “What were you doing shirtless with Tsukishima?” Kageyama’s voice cracks at the end and then all of a sudden he’s holding his head in his hands and taking a calming, deep breath. “On second thought, I don’t want to know.”

“Bakeyama!” Hinata hurtles the milk box back at him. “Stop being such a pervert!”

“You’re the one who said it!” Kageyama sounds like he’s entered a different realm, one wherein everything is unimaginably miserable.

“We were swimming at the time.”

“Swimming?” Kageyama blinks up at him. “Was this, by any chance, a dream?”

“Uh, no.” In Kageyama’s defence he has mistaken his dreams for real life once or twice. “Tsukishima and I go swimming sometimes.”

“Why?”

“We just do.”

“You just do… Since when?”

“Since you’ve been busy with captain-vice-captain-managers meetings.” A bit of a fib but happily those two things did start around the same time so it’s almost like one caused the other.

“Oh.” Kageyama straightens himself out, shaking his hair back so it flops over his forehead. “Well, okay then.”

“That’s it?”

“You like to hug people,” Kageyama’s eyebrows tangle up in the middle, “I guess it makes sense. If you’ve been spending more time with each other.”

“But you wouldn’t hug him?”

“No.” Kageyama doesn’t really hug people, but he allows Hinata and more recently Yamaguchi and Suga used to manhandle him quite a lot too.

“Why not?” Hinata actually really wants to know. Now that he’s hugged Tsukishima, Hinata thinks he’s plenty huggable. He’s kind of tall, but his back is a good size to loop arms around and he actually hugs back properly – unlike some people – with his entire arm and didn’t even complain about it when Hinata squashed in closer!

“Dumbass,” Kageyama’s staring at him through narrowed eyes, “hug whoever you want. Don’t hug whoever you don’t want.”

“Thanks, oh wise one.”

“Hug Tsukishima every day for the rest of your life for all I care, but please,” Hinata perks up a little, Kageyama rarely asks for anything with a please like that, “don’t try to make me hug him.”

“Eh?” Hinata blinks rapidly, wondering if he shutters Kageyama’s face in and out of view enough times his expression will change. “I don’t want you to hug him!” Kageyama’s face smooths out.

“Then what do you want?”

“I want to hug him!” Out of water this time so it’s not all slidey and Hinata can confirm whether or not Tsukishima’s as warm as he remembers, or if that was just a side effect of the adrenalin.

“Ew. Double gross.” Kageyama makes a loud gagging noise. “If you’re using me as a test run for your confession then I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Huh?”

“And Tsukishima gets loads of confessions, so go with a simple ‘I like you’ instead of all this hugging stuff.”

“Wah! Bakeyama! I don’t like Tsukishima!” Hinata feels like he’s just fallen into a frying pan of cooking oil. He slaps his hands over his cheeks to check that yep, they’re definitely cherry-red.

“You do.” Kageyama states matter-of-factly.

“I don’t! I do not! I–” His stomach is making that weird buzzing feeling again and for no reason he suddenly remembers the way Tsukishima had looked over his shoulder that first day they went to the swimming pool and he’d taken off his shirt. Astounded that anyone wouldn’t find him ugly. “Oh my God!” Hinata thinks he might be sick. “I like Tsukishima!” Kageyama snorts.

“Dumbass.” Hinata throws himself onto his back, groaning loudly at the sky.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

□          □          □

“Buy him a brand new pair of really tight speedos.”

“You’re not helping.” Hinata throws an M&M at his laptop camera.

“I disagree.” Kenma looks up from his Gameboy screen and smirks. “Your crush in really tight speedos is definitely helpful.”

“University has changed you.”

“Being in love has changed you.” Hinata splutters.

“I’m not in love!”

“Uh-huh,” Kenma doesn’t sound convinced. “You just want to hold his hand and hug him all day and kiss him all night.”

“Kenma!” Hinata drops his head heavily onto the face of his desk, disturbing his bag of M&Ms and not even caring when it causes a stack of magazines to slide off the edge and onto the floor.

“Is that the shrimp?”

“No,” Hinata whimpers, listening as a door closes on Kenma’s end, followed by what sounds like shopping bags being dumped somewhere. He lifts a hand over his head to wave a greeting at Kuroo. “This is the mess formally known as shrimp.”

“Shou’s in love.” Kenma doesn’t even try to whisper.

“Ohoho!” There’s an assortment of shuffling sounds. “Ahh, young love.” Hinata rolls his head so he’s resting on his cheek. On the screen Kuroo has squashed himself on the same seat as Kenma. “I remember my first love!”

“Remember?” Kenma scowls. “You’re still in it.” Kuroo cackles happily.

“True, true.” He hunches closer to the screen, holding up his phone for Hinata to see. “Ney, look at how cute my boyfriend is shrimpy!” It’s too grainy for Hinata to make out exactly what Kuroo’s phone background is, but it looks suspiciously like Sawamura in cat ears.

“Don’t show my kouhai that!” A hand slaps into the side of Kuroo’s head, Sawamura’s chin floating into view for a moment. “Ignore him.”

“Kind of inconsiderate of you to rub your domestic bliss in his face too.” Kenma grumbles from his side.

“Really?” Kuroo looks up to  Sawamura for confirmation, drooping down in his seat slightly at whatever face Sawamura shows him – Hinata can’t see it. “Sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it.” Just because he’s suffering doesn’t mean everyone else has to.

“Do you need help?” Kuroo waggles his eyebrows. “I can give you some great pick-up lines! One-hundred-percent success rating!” He blows a kiss in Sawamura’s direction and winks at Hinata.

“No thank you.” The very idea of using pick-up lines on Tsukishima is mortifying.

“He doesn’t need pick-up lines. He’s going to buy him a pair of speedos.” Kenma snickers to himself. “Two sizes too small!”

“Ohoho!” Kuroo high-fives the camera, wobbling it all over the place. “I like your style! Dai, should I woo you with snug-fitting swimwear too?”

“You should woo me with good grades.” Kuroo sticks his tongue out.

“Boring old man.”

“You’re older than him.” Kenma points out, accepting a bowl of fruit from Sawamura’s arm when it floats into view.

“Why are you here again?” Kuroo nudges Kenma out of the way, pilfering his fruit salad for a grape, even as Sawamura gripes off-screen that his own bowl is on its way.

“Daichi invited me over for dinner.” Kenma crunches into a slice of apple. Kuroo gasps.

“Betrayed by my own boyfriend!” Sawamura slides back into view, shoving fondly at the side of Kuroo’s head and sitting on the arm of the chair.

“He wouldn’t eat healthily otherwise.” He holds up a grape to poke inbetween Kuroo’s pout. Kenma nibbles noisily on a second apple slice as if to prove Sawamura’s point.

“Dad over your own kouhai! Look, this one’s living off of a bag of chocolates.” All three of them glance in Hinata’s direction; if he didn’t feel adequately pathetic before he does at the softening look of concern in Sawamura’s eyes.

“He’s in crisis,” reasons Kenma, elbowing Kuroo in his side. “Remember what you were like when you thought Sawamura didn’t like you back?”

“Don’t remind me!” Kuroo wriggles in his seat, shoving Kenma over even more so he can roll onto his side and sneak an arm around Sawamura. Sawamura plants a kiss into his hair, like it’s no big deal, and brings a hand up to card through it.

“Stop being indecent.” Kenma pulls a face at Hinata; Sawamura chuckles.

“Sorry, sorry.” He holds his hands up in surrender.

“You should confess,” Kuroo nods at Hinata. “You’re super cool! Ace of a team that’s been to nationals! And you’re cute and funny!”

“I’m right here,” Sawamura teases, tugging on Kuroo’s earlobe.

“Babe, you know I love you, that doesn’t make Shrimpy any less of a catch!” Kuroo gestures at Hinata, still slumped over his desk. “There’s a reason why Bokuto wanted to steal him away to be his own kouhai.”

“Because they’re both special.” Kenma’s looking down at his Gameboy screen, but Hinata knows that was a sincere compliment by the way he’s shaking his hair to shield his face.

“Right, right!” Kuroo flaps his hand. “Who wouldn’t want to be confessed to by him?” Sawamura nods, evidently convinced and smiles at Hinata.

“Who are you confessing to? Anyone we know?”

“Ah,” Hinata grabs a handful of M&Ms to munch on, wondering if it’s binding; his senpai has given his blessing on the idea of confessing. Does that mean he has to confess now? “Someone I met swimming.”

□          □          □

Hinata doesn’t buy Tsukishima speedos, his size or otherwise. Maybe he idles in the speedo section for a suspiciously long time imagining Tsukishima’s long legs covered in nothing but that thin navy pair, but no one has to know about that.

He does however buy him a new pair of trunks. They’re made of a softer material than his lime green ones and are a sort of pinkish colour at the top, fading into a deep, dark purple. Swirls of yellow and specs of white are splashed across with a glittery moon sitting on the left side. Very cute. And very Tsukishima. Plus they have pockets!

When he gets out the gift bag – the guy at the store had offered to gift wrap them, probably figuring out they were too big for Hinata himself and Hinata had been so embarrassed he’d just agreed to everything and now they’re folded in three layers of tissue paper – Tsukishima raises a single eyebrow.

“Uhm,” he chews on his bottom lip nervously, “as a congratulations!” He ducks his head. He wants Tsukishima to have these, regardless if he likes him back, so didn’t want to present them as a confession present.

“Oh.” They’ve never exactly traded presents like this and it becomes painfully obvious almost immediately that Tsukishima doesn’t open things fast enough. It takes him entire minutes! So much time that Hinata starts to panic all over again that he might have got the wrong size, or they might not be Tsukishima’s style at all, or maybe–

“Thanks,” a hand lands solidly on the back of his head. Hinata peeks up, skin buzzing when he sees the pinched expression Tsukishima’s wearing; he’s embarrassed. And his face is all pink.

“Put them on then!” Hinata throws his top over his head, suddenly impatient to jump in cold water. “I want to beat you in a race!” Tsukishima snorts.

“Like that’ll be hard.”

“Mhm,” Hinata shuffles into his lime green goldfish trunks, “I’ll only use one arm and leg?”

“Idiot.” When Hinata looks up, his laughter stutters into silence. Tsukishima’s standing in his new trunks, hair pushed up onto his head as he fiddles with opening his swimming cap. His face is still pink around the edges, but Hinata thinks his embarrassment has exactly zero to do with his body.

This is the first time he hasn’t changed hunched in a corner. The light sings off of the purple marks on his back, illuminating them in a way that has Hinata squeezing his nails into his palm to stop himself from reaching out and touching them. He looks so cute. So comfortable and confident. And so cute. With a moon on his thigh that Hinata got for him. So cute. So cute.

“You look cute!” Tsukishima's swimming cap pings across the room and Hinata wills the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“What?”

“I mean– I mean–” Hinata flails uselessly, heart thudding in his head. He’s probably red in the face. He’s never been great at hiding his emotions and right now he can feel them leaking out of him and into the empty space all around, suffocating them. He squeaks, shaking his head to try and clear it, only to find Tsukishima’s stepped closer than ever when he opens his eyes again.

“You mean?” Hinata’s body flops onto Tsukishima, his head falling onto his collarbone as his arms sneak around his waist. He’s been thinking about hugging Tsukishima for days and maybe he should have asked permission, but Tsukishima was right there and maybe he won’t want to get so close to Hinata anymore when he realises he wants to be Kuroo and Sawamura levels of indecent with him.

“You’re really cute.” He buries his words into Tsukishima’s skin, fingers clenching tightly.

“Oh.” Tsukishima’s arms fold around him, slow and unsure, but they're there. His skin is warm. One of his hands skips up Hinata’s spine, neck and then it’s in his hair and suddenly Hinata thinks he might cry.

Out of nowhere really, Tsukishima tugs at the hairs on the back of his head, ever-so-slightly, dragging Hinata a fraction away from his chest and places an impossibly warm kiss right in the centre of his forehead.

“Idiot.” And Hinata’s never been confessed to before, but that sounded like one to him. He twists to look up at Tsukishima, delighted by the smile that he finds resting on his face. “After I beat you in a swimming race,” Hinata pinches his side, “do you want to get some strawberry shortcake? With me?”

“Tsukishima,” Hinata frowns, snorting into the soft skin of his chest, “if I have to wait for you to beat me before you’ll date me, I’ll be waiting forever.”

“Oi!” Tsukishima head-butts him, pulling his hair in a definitely less affectionate way than before.

“Stupid!” Hinata blows a raspberry, loud and long into Tsukishima’s skin.

“Dumbass.”

“Moron.”

“Poop-head.”  Tsukishima smirks triumphantly causing Hinata to fold in half in giggles because really, who looks that cocky after saying poop-head?

“Dork.” He rocks back up, pushing himself on his tip-toes and kissing Tsukishima on the corner of his mouth before he can think too much about it. Tsukishima makes a very cute squeak of surprise. Hinata grabs onto his hand, dragging him towards the door. “I’ll date you even when you lose.” And Tsukishima’s answering smile is so bright and so beautiful that Hinata thinks he should start a new tally in his locker in its honour.

□          □          □

Hinata, Tsukishima confirms, is the biggest weirdo he knows. His fingers dance patterns across his skin, never pressing down too firmly, but they’re not light either. They flow over his back and warm his sides, skipping across Tsukishima’s skin like he can’t believe how lucky he is. Like he can’t believe he’s allowed to touch Tsukishima like this.

“You’re so beautiful.” He sighs, pressing a kiss on the inside of Tsukishima’s thigh, right on top of one of his thickest stretch marks.

“Shut up, idiot.” Tsukishima groans, flopping backwards onto his bed so he’s blinking at his ceiling and not at the look of wonder in Hinata’s eyes. Hinata’s breath giggles out onto his skin, making him shudder. It’s weird. The weirdest ever. But as his tongue pokes out and licks a warm stripe upwards, Tsukishima decides, hands shooting down to grab onto Hinata’s hair, that ‘weirdest’ sounds strikingly similar to ‘greatest’ in his head.