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The burn in his chest and the ache in his legs when he runs is something Hinata adores. The air rushing by him, the way the dirt kicks up under his feet, the steady pound of his feet on the ground—it all combines to form one of the most wonderful feelings. It’s addictive, as though he’s faster than even the wind itself, stronger than the ground itself, and he has more ability lying within him than he ever thought possible.
It makes sense for his morning race against Kageyama to become one of his favorite parts of the day, just losing out to practice itself. Running alone is one thing, but actually racing someone, feeling that exhilaration combined with wanting, needing to win is something entirely different, something that evolves to be surreal in its wonder.
They’re pretty evenly matched. Their totals are 54-52, Hinata’s lead, something Hinata is quite smug about, even though he practically had to shove Kageyama out of the way to win their last race. (Hinata isn’t proud to admit it, but it’s come down to some pretty dirty tactics on his side to win more often than it has on Kageyama’s. Still totally fair, though, because Kageyama does it, too.)
They do have a deal going that encourages that sort of behavior—Hinata's not just being a jerk to be a jerk, like Kageyama. Every third consecutive win, they get to win something from the other, be it making them buy pork buns or more tosses (Hinata’s usual choice, of course; Hinata has probably earned thousands of tosses at this point), or something along those lines.
This time around, Hinata is thinking he might ask for something different. Something more romantic, because, honestly, since they've started dating, they’ve barely done anything like that. They've held hands maybe twice, once initiated by Hinata and the other by Kageyama, and Hinata is dying to have something more. Even just more hand-holding would be amazing. Maybe he'll go for that.
Hinata wakes up early, that morning. He has to win. Before the sun even begins to creep over the horizon, Hinata leaves his house, having inhaled his breakfast, and bikes down to the school so quickly that he’s probably breaking some sort of obscure law.
He rides up the hill just overlooking Karasuno. Kageyama is there, at the top, and the dawn is shining down on him, all the pinks and oranges of the horizon contrasting the darkness of his figure. Hinata’s heart jumps up into his throat, both because of the surprise and because, ugh, Kageyama has no right looking that nice.
Hinata jumps off his bike, and the clatter of it on the road behind him makes Kageyama startle. Hinata runs, faster than he probably ever has before, and the wind against his face makes his eyes tear up a little as he soars past Kageyama. He can hear Kageyama yelling something suspiciously like what the hell, dumbass? over the wind as he begins to run after him, a steady thump-thump-thump that rings in Hinata’s ears.
Hinata’s heart races alongside them. He can feel the pulsing of his legs, the burn of his breath through his throat. It’s as awe-inspiring as ever, but he shoves all that into the back of his mind, focuses on keeping track of where Kageyama is relative to him. The gym is maybe two or three minutes away, now, and that’s more than enough time for Kageyama to catch up to him and ruin his plan.
The ground shifts from the pavement to dirt, and dirt flies up against Hinata’s legs. Kageyama is getting closer and closer. Hinata’s chest thrills with worry. He pushes himself harder, feeling the burn in his legs intensify, and then Kageyama is just behind him.
The gym is really close, now. Hinata can feel the victory in his bones. He can feel the warmth of Kageyama’s hand in his, his thumb tracing circles on the back of Hinata’s hand, the callouses of it, and—no, no, he can’t let himself get distracted now. Not now, right when victory is—
Kageyama manages to catch up, just next to Hinata, and Hinata would scream in frustration if he could. He’s this close to shoving Kageyama out of the way again, but Kageyama wouldn’t let his win be valid, then. Just a few more steps, just a few more steps—
He dives for the gym’s door, but Kageyama somehow had the same thought. They fall in a heap next to one another, both their hands clutching the metal outcropping of the door. Hinata can feel the warmth of the stone beneath him burning into his chest, his chest burning back into the stone, the satisfied ache in his legs, but it doesn’t revive him as it usually does.
“I won,” he mutters, even though he knows they definitely tied.
“Dumbass, that was clearly my win,” Kageyama retorts, voice all huffy.
“Nope, I think it was mine! See, look, my fingers are further than yours! That means I should win, right?”
“That doesn’t mean anything. You could’ve inched them forward while I wasn’t even looking.”
“Rude! I can’t believe you would accuse me of doing that! These races are sacred to me, you know, Kageyama—”
“You shoved me out of the way last race and forced me to let it count as a win,” Kageyama deadpans. Hinata’s lips quirk into a smile.
“That was one time, okay, in the heat of the moment and everything—”
“Sure, whatever you say,” Kageyama interrupts him, getting to his knees and standing up. “C’mon, get up. Do you want some more tosses tonight, or something?”
Hinata’s mouth pops open as he jumps up, brightening. “Oh! Oh, oh, are you admitting I won? That’s so sweet of you, Kageyama! I—”
“What do you want,” Kageyama says, tiredly, not even a question. “You don’t need to stall.”
Hinata twiddles his thumbs, looks up at Kageyama, and, for some reason, his eyes are drawn to Kageyama’s mouth. His heart stutters, skips a beat, and he suddenly knows what it is he actually wants.
“Kiss me,” he requests, all soft and tiny.
“Hah? I can’t hear you if you don’t speak up,” Kageyama huffs.
“I said kiss me, stupid,” Hinata yells shrilly. His eyes widen, and he covers his mouth with both of his hands, because, oh, no, he did not just—
Kageyama’s expression has turned to mortification, and his face is redder than the sky was when the sun came up that morning. “You—you didn’t have to yell that, you total dumbass. I can’t believe you just—”
“I didn’t mean to!” Hinata’s voice is all tinny and high-pitched. “Look, look, it’s just—don’t kill me, okay? Forget I said anything!”
Kageyama closes his eyes for a few seconds, exhales heavily. “No, it’s—I want to, too. I just—it’s… embarrassing. But, uhm. If you want to, then…”
Hinata’s eyes shine like stars. “Really?! You should’ve said so, dummy! Of course I want to!” He glances away, glances back. “Don’t leave me hanging, Kage—”
Kageyama kisses him. It’s just a tiny, little peck, and Kageyama pulls away before Hinata can really even process the feeling of Kageyama’s chapped lips on his own. His mind whirls afterwards, though, whole body thrumming, chest burning and legs tingling.
Kageyama is staring at his feet like, suddenly, his shoes are the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “It was good, stupid,” Hinata mumbles, trying to work Kageyama out of his embarrassment while fighting his own. “Really short, though! I expected something more, y’know?”
“Shut up,” Kageyama retorts, exasperation and affection mixing in his voice. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you? You—you can’t complain.”
Hinata laughs, loud, clear in the autumn air. “I guess I did,” he says, tugging on Kageyama’s hand as he walks into the gym.
(He has to go run back for his bike as soon as he realizes he left it in the middle of the road, and practice is terrible after wasting so much energy. Hinata blames Kageyama for it. But Hinata forgives him, because Kageyama kisses him a tiny bit longer when they part at the crossroads they separate at on their walk home, and Hinata thinks that, yeah, he has everything he wants right now.)