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It’s kind of funny, Terushima thinks, that his teammates have decided exactly what type of guy he’s into. That they all think they‘ve got him pegged when evidently they have no idea. They wiggle their eyebrows and elbow him in the ribs, not even trying to be subtle as they take in his pink face and follow his gaze across the court.
“You just love messing up pretty boys, huh?” Bobata clicks his tongue as he leers suggestively, draping an arm around Terushima’s neck, at the exact same time Futamata digs his knuckles into the top of his head, whistling low.
“You can never resist a bad boy.”
“What?” Bobata’s expression falls as he stares at Futamata around the front of Terushima.
“What do you mean what?” Futamata flaps a hand, seemingly unbothered that they’re in a crowded gym and literally anyone could witness their open discussion, at the team that are going through their cool down stretches on the other side of the net. “Stormy expression, shaved hair, muscular thighs, he couldn’t be more Teru’s type!”
“You’re an idiot!” Bobata smacks him upside the head. “He likes serious players, serious ones, not grumpy cats!”
“Heh,” Futamata cocks his head, grinning, “he does kinda look like the Grumpy Cat, now that you mention it.”
“And, he’s not even captain! Teru’s only ever crushed on captains!”
“Is that true?” Terushima asks absentmindedly. He’s only ever crushed on two people; it’s probably coincidence they’d both been captains at the time of the crushing.
“That’s why the serious, pretty, captain, is totally who he’s going goo-goo eyes for!” Bobata rushes on, ignoring Terushima’s question completely as he gestures with a slow arm at the captain on the other side of the court.
“Ehh?” Futamata frowns, evidently unconvinced, “but that guy just looks like a shiny version of Jiri!”
“Oh.” Bobata pauses, blinking around their side of the court until he finds Numajiri stretching on the side lines. “Huh. You could be onto something there. Oi! Jiri!” Numajiri swivels to stare at the three of them, Bobata and Futamata still bundled on top of Terushima. “C’mere a second would ya?” Numajiri narrows his eyes, but wanders over anyway.
“A little to the left,” Futamata directs him as he gets closer, holding his hands over Terushima’s shoulder as if he’s framing Numajiri in a scene. “One step back. There.”
“Huh.” They do look startlingly similar, now that they’re stood sort of side-by-side. “Is that kid like your cousin or something?” Numajiri tips his head back to look through the net. When he turns back around to face Terushima he looks more troubled than usual.
“No.” Numajiri is always succinct; he lets his facial expressions speak more than his voice. And he’s clearly unimpressed by the comparison.
“Damn, he must be your doppelgänger!” Bobata isn’t bad at reading Numajiri, he just doesn’t care, and cackles even louder when he’s met with a scowl.
“Hold up!” Futamata glances down at Terushima, frown deep-set between his eyebrows. “Does this mean you’ve been harbouring a secret crush on Jiri?”
“How did you get to that conclusion?” Terushima wouldn’t change a single thing about any of the numbskulls on his team – it’s way too much fun with everyone partially unhinged – but sometimes he wishes they came with a flow chart of their thought processes. Just so he could keep track.
“Pfft!” Bobata looks delighted. “An in-team romance? Guys, this is so cute I think I’m going to cry.”
“I’m sorry Captain,” Numajiri’s face is impressively blank, “I can’t return your feelings.” Terushima stares at him a moment before noticing his mouth twitch on one side.
“Jiri!” He finally shakes off Bobata and Futamata just so he can throw himself bodily at Numajiri. Who catches him. Like he always does. “I honestly thought you were serious for a second there!”
“Wait, so he has accepted your feelings?” Bobata wolf-whistles behind them and it sounds to Terushima a lot like Futamata high-fives him for his efforts, but he can’t see them from where he’s squashed himself into Numajiri’s neck.
“I’m not crushing on Jiri!” Terushima’s voice doesn’t sound as captainly as he’d like, given that it’s muffled and kind of whiny, but it does sound pathetic enough that Numajiri’s hand starts to rub soothing circles on his back, which is more of a win anyway.
“I’m not his type.” Numajiri states, voice still lilted like he’s amused anyone would think he was.
“Ah-hah!” Futamata screams so loudly Terushima wouldn’t be surprised if the entire gym was now staring at him. “I knew it! You do want to bone Grumpy Cat!” Terushima groans. If he stays buried in Numajiri’s neck like this he’ll never have to see if the cute guy on the other side of the net is looking at them.
“I don’t think so.” Terushima rolls his head and blinks open one eye just to make sure it really is Izaka that’s decided to join them. He scratches at the back of his head, Tsuchiyu leaping into view behind him, dragging Higashiyama along. Great, so now it’s an entire team debate. Just what Terushima wanted. “He’s the ace.”
“Yeah? So?” Bobata pistons forwards one of his hips, resting a hand on it dramatically. He’s really enjoying himself, Terushima thinks, which is nice; he likes it when his team are having fun.
“So Teru’s not into flashy aces!” Tsuchiyu pokes his tongue out at Bobata. “He goes after sturdy guys.”
“Yeah… with thighs!” Futamata flaps a hand meaningfully again. Terushima hopes that even if the other team has noticed they’re having an intense discussion about them, they’ve just assumed it’s about how intimidating their ace was and how best they can limit his play next time they face them. They'd almost had him corned this time after all.
“Arata’s right.” Higashiyama ruffles Tsuchiya’s hair fondly. “Teru’s gotta be the flashiest and loudest one. That’s just how it is.”
“Is that so?” Bobata eyes Terushima critically for a moment before shrugging. “Probably for the best. Anyone who’s louder and flashier than you would be a nightmare.”
“Oi!” Terushima kicks his leg out behind him at Bobata, smirking when his heel hits his thigh; Bobata makes a strange growling sound as he smacks at his foot.
“Wait so we’re ruling out Jiri’s cousin,” Futamata winks playfully at Numajiri, “and we’re ruling out flashy ace Grumpy Cat?”
“You sure he was eye-balling someone?” Izaka hums thoughtfully and pretty seriously all things considered. So seriously in fact that Terushima decides to finally roll himself out of Numajiri’s neck, resting his head on his shoulder to look at his team.
All of them are squinting at the other side of the net, eyes flickering from player to player. They’re not a subtle bunch. But thankfully their narrowed eyes sort of look like they’re trying to be intimidating. Well, everyone except for Tsuchiyu who’s smiling serenely at their rivals. He's never been great at pretending to be tough, Terushima thinks it must be his hair; no one with hair as soft and fluffy as Tsuchiyu's could ever be a tough guy.
“You’re all idiots.” He grunts out, not unkindly. He wouldn’t have them any other way.
“He was definitely eye-balling someone.” Bobata nods firmly, blowing a raspberry in Terushima’s direction.
“Maybe that radish-headed guy?” Higashiyama sounds wholly unconvinced of his own suggestion, but they’re running out of players to choose from.
“His hair is stupid.” Tsuchiya fluffs his hair upwards; if it was a little longer he’d probably be able to achieve the radish aesthetic that the tall kid is rocking. “I’d like to think Teru wouldn’t date someone with stupid hair.”
“They’re too young.” Terushima tips his head up at Numajiri curiously. “He likes older men.”
“Eh?” Futamata turns to blink at him with wide eyes. “Is that true?”
“Uhm,” Terushima shrugs, willing himself not to turn and stare at the cute guy with the thick thighs on the other side of the court. He could be younger than Terushima, he's certainly shorter, but it's hard to tell from this far away. “I’m not sure.”
“Your face is pink.” Numajiri pinches his cheek.
“Ew, Teru,” Bobata wrinkles his nose, “please tell me it’s not the coach. He’s like eighty!”
“Dude, there’s two coaches.” Higashiyama twists Bobata’s body to where the other coach is talking amicably with coach Anabara. Probably trying to set up another practice match before the year ends and they all officially become third years.
“Well,” Izaka considers it for a lot longer than Terushima thinks he should; their second coach might not be eighty but he’s still probably twice Terushima’s age. “He does have blonde hair.”
“You know what,” Terushima allows himself a slow obvious glance at the cute thigh guy. He’s drinking from a water bottle. Some of the other guys on his team have finished with their cool down stretches and appear to be making a move to leave. Actually, now that Terushima thinks about it, coach Anabara did order them to do cool down stretches too. Ah well. They've managed to do them on the bus ride home before.
Terushima pushes himself off of Numajiri’s shoulder, mock saluting his team. If he doesn’t go over there and at least try to get this guy’s number then he’ll wander away from him and who knows when they’ll next meet; he can’t pin all his hopes on coach Anabara to hook them up with another practice match.
“You’re all idiots.”
“Thank you, Captain.” His team sing in union, each of them grinning goofily.
“Wish me luck!” He tosses them a wink and then limbos himself under the volleyball net. It’s important that certain people realise he’s bendy. From behind him he hears his idiots cheering him on and what sounds like Bobata and Futamata trying to out wolf-whistle each other. They’re really not a subtle bunch.
“What do you want?” The pretty boy captain narrows his eyes suspiciously as Terushima approaches.
Not you he thinks, but it's possible Numajiri's fake shiny cousin is the cute thigh guy’s best friend so he smiles sunnily as he breezes passed him instead.
“Hey!” The pretty boy actually sounds offended, but thankfully Grumpy Cat is at his side murmuring something dark enough it wheedles a laugh out of him.
Radish-head doesn’t even register him as he wanders by and then, all of a sudden – even though it shouldn’t have been a surprise at all because this is where Terushima has been aiming all along – he finds himself stood in front of the cute thigh guy.
He definitely looked shorter further away; up this close he’s only about two inches away from Terushima's height. His thighs are even thicker from here.
“Uhm,” cute thigh guy blinks at Terushima in confusion. He has really dark brown eyes. Terushima has always liked guys with brown eyes. “Can I help you?”
“Maybe.” Terushima cocks his weight onto one hip, trying to smile a real smile and not smirk – Numajiri is always telling him people don’t like him because he smirks too much. “I’m Terushima Yuuji.” He holds out a hand. It feels kind of weird for him to be introducing himself so formally but it can’t hurt, right? The back of his neck burns from all of the pairs of eyes he can feel staring at him. Maybe he should have bowed in greeting instead. God, this is even more embarrassing than the time he tried to introduce himself to Sawamura. Soft, warm fingers curl around hand.
“Watari Shinji.” Watari Shinji, Terushima thinks, is just about the best name. Watari Shinji, the guy with the warmest brown eyes. Watari Shinji, the turquoise libero with the thick thighs and great bum. Watari Shinji grows dimples when he smiles.
“Damn,” Terushima blows out a puff of air as they shake hands. His face feels pink again. “You’re cute, y’know?” Watari’s hand slips out of his, startled.
“Is this meant to be a joke?” His dimples disappear, eyebrows scrunching together in a frown. Terushima shouldn’t find it cute, he knows he shouldn’t, but he does anyway.
“No.” He raises a single eyebrow. Why would he joke about that?
“Are you sure?” Watari leans to look over Terushima’s shoulder meaningfully. On Johzenji’s side of the net Bobata and Futamata have wrapped themselves lovingly around Numajiri and Izaka, who sort of look like they’re holding hands, and Higashiyama is draped across Arata’s arms pointing one leg up like a princess. Which is a little impressive if you consider their height and weight difference. All six of them are fluttering their eyelashes and cooing at Terushima.
“I’m sure.” Terushima flips them off before turning back to face him. “They’re all idiots.”
“Aren’t you the Captain?” But one of his dimples is peaking out so Terushima knows he’s being teased.
“Yeah. They call me Captain Idiot.”
“That’s you?” Watari smacks himself on the forehead. “I knew your face was familiar!”
“Oi.” Terushima shoves playfully at his shoulder, forgetting that he’s maybe not allowed to be touchy with him yet. “Like your Captain is any better.” He gestures discretely with his thumb to the side he can still feel pretty boy and Grumpy Cat glaring at him from.
When Watari laughs Terushima feels butterflies emerge from their cocoons and begin to flutter in excitement, right behind his ribs.
“You might have a point.”
“But do I have your number?” There’s a moment of silence immediately after the words have left his mouth where Terushima wants to run face first into a glass door. Why is his mouth always leaping ahead of his brain? But then Watari’s face pinks, his cheeks puffing out like a hamsters as he splutters out a laugh.
“Oh my God! Was that a line?” Terushima hums, pretending to think when really he’s just committing to memory the glow on Watari’s face.
“Only if it works.” Watari mimics his hum back at him, not bothering to hide the fact that he’s looking Terushima up and down slowly.
“If this is a joke I’m going to let Maddog rip your head off. I can tell he wants to.”
“Maddog?” Watari’s eyes flicker to the left meaningfully. “Oh! You mean Grumpy Cat?”
“Grumpy Cat?” Watari snorts out another laugh, leaning a hand on Terushima’s shoulder for support.
“You call him Maddog!” Terushima squawks, butterflies buzzing into his throat now. Watari’s laugh is really something.
“At least Maddog isn’t an old meme.”
“A classic meme.” Terushima corrects softly.
“Oh no,” Watari peers up at Terushima, blinking curiously.
“What?”
“Alright,” he smirks, “I’ll give you my number. But only if you promise not to send me memes.”
“Ah.” Terushima chews on his lip, eyes tracing the shape of Watari's eyes. “I’m not sure I could promise that.”
“Hmm,” Watari pushes himself away from Terushima, leaving his shoulder a little colder than before. “I guess you’ll have to give me yours instead then.” Watari turns around and plucks a phone off of the bench behind him and holds it out in his palm at Terushima.
“Just so you know,” Terushima hums as his fingers fumble over each other in their excitement to key in his number, “you can send me memes any time.”
“Any time?”
“Day or night.”
“I’ll bare that in mind.” Terushima can tell he’s being teased but he’s not sure he cares. Watari Shinji, the cute thigh guy, has his number. He passes the phone back with a smile.
“I thought you’d get confused if I saved it as Captain Idiot and text me when you meant to text your Captain, so it’s under my name instead.” And several heart emojis in various colours. But he’ll let Watari discover those in his own time.
“Terushima Yuuji.” Watari nods, grinning up at him. “I think your team is leaving without you.” Sure enough when Terushima turns back round he finds half a dozen idiots attempting to fish him back over to their side of the net with invisible rods. Coach Anabara looks mostly resigned as he tries to coax them away.
“Ah. Right. So, uhm –”
“I’ll message you.”
“Cool.” Terushima nods as he turns to go. “Cool. See ya then.”
“See ya.” He gets about six foot away before he remembers, pivoting back.
“Oi, Watari Shinji, when’s your birthday?” If his question catches Watari off guard he doesn’t let it show, mouth curling up on one side, flashing a dimple.
“April third.” Terushima nods again, waving at pretty boy and Grumpy Cat as he jogs back over to his team. When he gets close enough he holds out an arm, two fingers pointed like a gun on the end, closes one eye and aims at Numajiri. He makes a popping sound with his mouth.
“You were right.” He flings himself at him. April third. That’s fifteen whole days older. A kink if ever he had one.
“I’m always right.” Numajiri sighs as if the effort of being right is somehow exhausting him.
“You know his thighs are kind of like the crow dude’s thighs, right?” Futamata whispers into his ear as he flings himself onto Terushima’s back.
“Ah-hah! So Haru was right! You are into thick thighs!” Bobata doesn’t bother trying to be quiet as he topples himself on top of Futamata. The four of them squash themselves out of the gym doors and towards their team bus, high-fiving Kuribayashi as they climb on board.
“That’s the last of them.” She confirms for both coach Anabara and their driver. She’s a very diligent manager despite the fact there’s only seven of them on the team.
“Yo, Captain!” Tsuchiyu waves a hand up over the back of the empty seat in front of his. “You got a text!” Izaka makes a gagging noise at the smile taking over Terushima’s face as he charges towards Tsuchiyu and unlocks his phone. But he still cranes his neck to try and see it.
“What does it say?” Bobata charges after him, shoving Terushima along into the window so he can sit down, then patting his lap invitingly until Futamata flops on top of him. Higashiyama props his chin up over the back of his seat, waiting for Terushima’s answer with interest.
“Nothing.” Terushima laughs, holding his phone up for his friends to see as Numajiri finally makes his way over. He watches as each of them see the message, faces crinkling into smiles and snickers. He grins back at them happily.
“I can’t believe how smitten you are.” Futamata flops a hand into the side of his face fondly.
“Can you blame me?” He gestures to his phone screen again. None of them can blame him. How could they? Watari Shinji, the cutest thick thigh guy, has sent him a picture of Grumpy Cat. A classic meme.