Work Text:
Tanaka and Nishinoya had cornered them just before lunchtime after their third game of the day, eyes glinting mischievously and teeth flashing, exchanging knowing glances with each other as they elbowed their way through members of the next team coming in to warm up.
“Hey guys,” Tanaka had started, scooping up a discarded ball Kageyama had been about to pick up and tucking it underneath his arm. “Wanna hang out after training today?”
“Ryuu and I are gonna take a walk after camp,” Nishinoya contributed, adding special emphasis on their scheduled promenade.
“Sure,” Hinata said, “I usually prefer to bike or run, but I like walking, too.”
“We won't be doing much walking, though.”
“What? Why would you invite us to walk and then not walk?” Kageyama blurted out.
“Oh, we'll be walking,” Nishinoya attempted to clarify, “we're not gonna take a walk in the middle of camp.”
This only confused Kageyama even more, eyebrows furrowed and head tilted to the side.
“Okay, let's try this.” Tanaka cleared his throat. “We won't just be walking, if you catch my drift.”
“We're going on a date with Mary Jane!” Nishinoya chirped.
Hinata gasped. “Nishinoya, you have a girlfriend? Mary Jane? Sounds foreign! Is she American? Does she play volleyball?”
“What-- no-- Mary Jane isn't a person, she's an--”
“--experience,” Tanaka finished, jabbing a finger in the air as if to prove a point.
Silence.
Kageyama lifted a hand and gestured around the gymnasium. “This is an experience.”
“Well, yes,” Tanaka conceded, “that's true. But this is a different kind of experience.”
Hinata blinked. “A different kind...”
“...of experience.” Kageyama glanced at him as if to gauge whether Hinata was just as confused as he was.
“A calming experience.” Nishinoya crossed his arms.
“Walking with Mary Jane calms you down?” Hinata asked.
“You know, that actually made sense but you have no idea what the fuck you're saying, do you.”
Hinata shook his head. Kageyama shrugged. They looked at each other again before turning to their upperclassmen.
“Okay, it's like this,” Tanaka glanced around as though to make sure no one was watching and quickly pressed two fingers to his mouth, then blew air from his mouth.
“Kissing.”
“What the f-- how does that look like kissing to you?!”
Kageyama shrugged again.
“Oh my God, guys,” Nishinoya groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “Pot,” he finally said a little too loudly, tossing his hands in front of him as he enunciated the single word.
“Ohhh,” Hinata said as it clicked. “I get it.”
“We're bringing a pot? Are we cooking?” Kageyama asked.
“No, we're baking.”
“Kageyama, you're so stupid,” Hinata teased, excited he'd figured it out before Kageyama had. “It's so obvious.”
“What'd you say, you little dumbass?!” Hinata narrowly dodged an outstretched fist, bending down quickly to avoid another attempt to grab at his hair.
“Kageyama,” Tanaka whispered.
“What-- oh.” Tanaka had taken out a small bag of the green herb from his backpack, holding it close to his body so no one outside their little circle could see it.
“Why didn't you just say so?”
--
They had cornered Tsukishima and Yamaguchi a little later in the day, after their sixth or seventh game in the second-year cabin while the duo were resting, sitting together on Tsukishima's bed.
“Yo. We're hanging out after training today. We're gonna take a walk,” Tanaka had said, once again enunciating their preferred euphemism.
“No. Thank you.” Tsukishima, ever so blunt.
“Okay, see, by walking we mean--” Nishinoya started.
“No, I know exactly what you mean. No, thanks.”
“Actually, I--” Tsukishima whipped his head around to face Yamaguchi, an eyebrow raised. “--might, maybe, want to try.” Yamaguchi rubbed at the back of his head, head bowed and smiling sheepishly.
Tsukishima adjusted his glasses, expression on his face controlled and neutral. “Okay. Don't come back too late. You already have enough trouble as it is waking up in the morning with a regular sleeping schedule.”
“Yeah, you're right. Good point, Tsukki.”
--
They'd cornered Yachi near the end of the day as she sat on the bench taking her final notes, scribbling doodles of ideas and new concepts.
They'd skipped the euphemism this time, cutting straight to the point.
Her only reaction had been to clutch the notepad close to her heart, body quivering and voice shaking as she stuttered out a squeaky, “w-weed?”
So Yachi wasn't coming.
--
They hadn't asked the first years because they were good senpais who didn't corrupt the youth and definitely not because Ennoshita would not only kill them if he caught them smoking, but double kill them if they'd invited the first years along.
--
Asking Ennoshita, Narita, and Kinoshita was out of the question.
--
So this was how Tanaka, Nishinoya, Yamaguchi, Hinata, and Kageyama found themselves sitting in a circle on their knees in the middle of a clearing about five hundred meters from base camp, breathing in the chilled Hokkaido air while waiting for the third years to commence the ceremony.
“Ryuu? Will you do the honors?”
“Of course, Noya,” Tanaka cackled, swinging his backpack around and digging around in the front pocket, finally drawing out the small bag of weed and a handful of small beige sheets of paper.
They watched with bated breath as he dumped half a gram of the plant onto one of the sheets and rolled it in his hand, using his tongue to seal the joint.
“Hey, hey!” Tanaka exclaimed proudly as he held up the makeshift rolled piece of paper. “I-- ah! Crap.” He started shuffling through his bag again. “I forgot--”
“I gotchu,” Nishinoya said, leaning forward with a lighter and flicking it on, setting the end of the joint on fire.
“Thanks, bro.” He lifted the joint up to his lips and heaved in a breath – doesn't look like kissing at all, Hinata thought – smoke trailing out from his nostrils as he exhaled.
“You guys wanna try?” Tanaka asked, holding out the joint to the second years.
No one reacted for a second. Hinata finally raised his hand, feeling slightly embarrassed by the whole spectacle, but also curious.
“All right. Brave man.” He leaned forward to close the distance between them, the joint suddenly looking bigger and intimidating now that it was closer. He reached out for it, gripping it gingerly between his index and middle finger before leaning back to sit upright again.
It felt funny, holding something like that. Adult-like. People didn't hold anything else between their index and middle fingers, only cigarettes and blunts. He struggled to think of some point in his life when he'd held anything like this and could only come up with the time he'd shoved chopsticks in between each of the fingers of his hand and chased his sister around the house, yelling “I'm Wolverine!”
“Whenever you're ready.”
He nodded, snapping back to the present, and held up the joint to his lips the way he'd seen Tanaka do it. The joint felt thin and paper-y against his lips as he sucked in a breath through his mouth.
Then he coughed, the hot air burning the base of his throat as he exhaled. He curled forward as he hacked even louder, mouth open and tongue lolling out, struggling to breathe evenly again, each inhale inflaming the burnt part of his throat.
“Woah! Careful,” someone said before a bottle of Potari Sweat entered his field of vision. “Drink something.” It was Tanaka.
He nodded in between coughs and knocked the bottle back, gulping down the liquid until the aching in the back of his throat subsided.
“Thanks,” he said, his voice hoarse, wiping at his mouth with a sleeve and passing the bottle back.
“Make sure you breathe it into your lungs,” Nishinoya explained, “like this.” He gestured for Hinata to pass him the joint. He obliged, watching as Noya inhaled deeply, his chest rising with the action, then exhaled, the smoke blowing out of his nose like it had with Tanaka.
“Try it again.” He passed it back to Hinata who looked at it a little more warily this time, but still did as he was told, pressing his lips around the small object and taking in a deep breath. The air felt thick as he sucked it in, expanding down his mouth and throat until it reached his lungs. He held it there for a second, afraid to exhale for fear of messing up again, but finally let the air out. He coughed a little as the air hit the sore spot in his throat, but it felt fine otherwise.
“Good job. Anyone else?”
Hinata turned to Kageyama and gestured with the joint. Kageyama shrugged and took it from him, their fingers touching for a brief second before pulling away.
He stared at it for a long, hard while, like it was a math problem he was trying to solve (and if this was anything like a math problem, he'd never solve it), before finally copying what the others had done up until that point and sucking it in. He spluttered a bit on the exhale, but fared better than Hinata had, which frustrated him a little. Damn Kageyama, always one-upping him on everything.
He passed it back to Hinata when he was done, who passed it to Yamaguchi on his right.
Yamaguchi took a lot less time in gearing himself up for it, putting it into his mouth immediately with a determined expression and huffing it in quickly. He exhaled fluidly, breathing out evenly without hiccuping.
“A natural,” Tanaka praised, taking the joint back for himself. Yamaguchi grinned shyly, scratching at the freckles on his face.
“Okay, I'll make one for everyone now.”
--
Five minutes later and they each held their own crudely-made joint, as promised. Nishinoya leaned forward to light each one in turn, winking at Hinata as he set the fire up against the end of his joint.
Hinata watched the paper burn bright red for a second before cooling down to an ashy black, smoke curling up from the end and evaporating into the air. He steeled himself to take a bigger puff this time, tasting the air in his mouth, then taking it into his lungs. Much easier this time.
Smoke hit his face from the left as the wind carried over Kageyama's drag, marijuana tinged with traces of Kageyama's breath. He didn't complain. It was nice, somehow.
They puffed on their respective joints in silence for a few minutes, letting only the sounds of crickets and other nocturnal critters fill in the gaps. Hinata turned to look through the copse of trees separating them from the main camp downhill from where they sat. Lights from the cabins seeped in through the cracks in between the trees, shining up at their little gathering, the only source of light with the exception of the half-full moon and constellations far above them.
Nishinoya finally broke the silence, extinguishing the burned out butt of his joint against the ground.
“So, how we gonna beat Koumori North tomorrow?” he reached for another sheet and pinched a bit of weed from the bag Tanaka had set between them. “I'm tired of losing to 'em.”
“Shut down their number eight,” Kageyama answered, his voice a low husk in the night.
“Okay, but how, genius? We know he's a problem.”
He thought he saw Kageyama sneak a glance at him before glaring back down at the joint in between his fingers like it had offended him.
“At the end of the day, he's just a really good decoy. Figure out his patterns, give him a dedicated block, and he won't be able to do anything.”
“Yeah, guess that would work,” Nishinoya said between puffs, “easier said than done, though. Lucky we have an impenetrable defense, thanks to me.” He jabbed a thumb at his chest proudly.
Yamaguchi giggled somewhere off to his right.
“We could-- aw, wait,” Tanaka interrupted himself as his cellphone went off, buzzing in the grass where he'd left it face down next to his backpack.
“Good evening.” He gave the phone a wide smile as he answered it.
“Are you smoking weed?” a girl's voice filtered through the device.
“No,” he lied, dropping the smile in lieu of a more innocent look, eyes open wide and hand holding the joint hidden behind his back.
“Yes, you are,” the girl said, her voice bubbling over with a chuckle despite her admonishment. “Your eyes are bright red.”
“Are you mad?” Tanaka's voice dropped in volume to almost a whisper, tinged with concern.
“No. Just... don't get caught, please.”
“I won't. Promise.”
“Kanoka! Hiiii!” Nishinoya drawled, poking his head over Tanaka's shoulder.
“Hi, Noya. How are you?”
“Amanai-san!” Hinata shouted, taking the change in conversation as a chance to make his own presence known.
“The second years are here, too,” Tanaka said, turning the camera around to face the three of them.
“Hey, boys,” Amanai smiled sweetly, waving at them through the phone screen. She looked a little grainy and Hinata remembered suddenly they were in the middle of a forest some distance away from the nearest city. The connection probably wasn't the best.
“Hi!”
“Hey.”
“Good evening!”
“What'd you call for?” Tanaka asked as he flipped the phone back to himself, consciously leaving the joint on the ground and out of the shot.
“Just wanted to see how you were doing. How many sets did you win today?”
“Twelve out of twenty.”
“That's not bad. More than half.”
“Yeah, but it's not a hundred percent.”
“We won't stop til we get there!” Nishinoya piped up again, shoving his head up against Tanaka's face.
Hinata could hear Amanai giggle in between crackles. “That's the spirit.” She sighed. “The girls' training camp is next week. I'm nervous.”
“Don't be. Your school's better than ours.”
“But I'm not.”
“Bullshit.”
“Really, Ryuu--”
“Nope. If you called just to complain about your playing skills, I'm hanging up,” he threatened, lifting a finger to his phone screen as if he were about to cancel the call.
“Okay, okay, sorry,” she apologized hastily. Her girlish laughter filled the air, pleasant and sweet like honey. Hinata curled his arms around his legs, shifting his weight onto his butt and scratching at a bruise on his knee. Tanaka was lucky.
He peered up at Kageyama who was still nursing his own joint, halfway done with it by this point. He let out a long breath, a cloud of smoke drifting up from his mouth into the night sky as he peered up at the waterlogged moon.
It would probably rain tomorrow.
“Okay, g'night,” he heard Tanaka say before signing off. He smiled at his phone for a second before picking up his abandoned joint again and gesturing to Noya to light it up again.
“Mm,” Yamaguchi whimpered, a soft sound that wouldn't have been caught by anyone had it not been for the silence that surrounded them. He flinched and waved his hands around at the realization that he'd made a noise. “Um.”
“Are you high, Yamaguchi?” Nishinoya teased, poking Yamaguchi's leg with his shoe.
“...No,” he said, but the reply had come about three seconds too late, as if he'd had to focus on the singular effort of lying.
“Ohhh, Yamaguchi's first, he's the first to crack,” Tanaka joined in the teasing, also shoving his foot against Yamaguchi's leg.
“No, I was just wondering...” he paused to think for a second, face scrunched up and mouth spread in a thin line. “How did you two get together? Like, how do you...?” he clasped his hands together in front of his face as if that meant something, but Tanaka and Nishinoya seemed to understand anyway.
“You just gotta find a girl you think is pretty and tell 'em!” Nishinoya squawked. “Confess!”
Yamaguchi blanched at the suggestion, freckles showing up darker on his skin.
“Yeah! Except that's not really what I did,” Tanaka admitted, scratching at his bald head. “Honestly, she did all the work. So I guess don't do anything, bwaha!” he guffawed.
“Do you like someone, Yamaguchi?” Hinata asked. His voice sounded strange to his ears for some reason.
Yamaguchi screwed his face up in concentration or frustration, Hinata couldn't be sure. He pulled at the grass, twisting blades around his finger and uprooting them from the ground as he answered.
“...Yeah.”
“Oooohhhh.” Tanaka and Noya's feet resumed their poking, scuffing against Yamaguchi's shoes and pants leg.
He waved a hand at their legs weakly, missing them by a mile.
The duo laughed again, though they retreated their legs back, tucking them underneath their bodies.
“Just tell her, you're, like, the nicest guy at school. She'd be stupid to say no,” Tanaka concluded, taking another drag from his joint.
“It's not that simple,” Yamaguchi whined. His pile of dead grass had built up to a tiny hill. He picked up a stick and poked at the ground, digging up bits of dirt and piling it onto the miniature mountain he was making.
“Do you think she likes you back?” Hinata asked, adding a leaf onto Yamaguchi's collection.
“I don't know. It's hard to tell with Tsu-- uh, her.” Yamaguchi flinched at his Freudian slip and slapped a hand onto his face, shoving the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck,” he whispered underneath his breath.
“Hey, you okay?” Nishinoya asked, voice softer all of a sudden. “How much have you smoked?”
He held up what was left of the joint he'd been given earlier, almost down to the butt.
“Shit.”
“Damn.”
“That's kinda fast for your first time. You can stop if you want.”
Yamaguchi nodded, passing over the stub to Nishinoya. Nishinoya held it up between his fingers, lifting his lighter but then setting it back down.
“Yeah, this isn't even enough to light back up again. You're a real trooper, Yamaguchi.”
“Thanks,” he muttered, gaze focused down on the mound he'd built.
Hinata glanced down at his own joint, only halfway burnt at that point. The fire at the end had gone out, as well, though.
“You want to keep going?” Nishinoya said, holding up his lighter. “You feeling anything yet?”
“No,” he shook his head, “I mean, light me up again.”
“Yes, sir.” He held up the lighter to Kageyama. “You?”
Kageyama nodded, holding out his joint. Three quarters of the way down. Hinata needed to hurry it up.
“I don't think we'd even be able to tell if you were high, Kageyama,” Tanaka said as Noya lit up the end of Kageyama's joint. “You always look kinda stoned.”
“What?!” he barked.
Tanaka snorted. “You're spaced out half the time, anyway.”
Kageyama looked like he was about to argue for a second before shutting his mouth with a click. He furrowed his brows and placed a finger on his lips, as though he were considering the question deeply.
Hinata rolled his eyes and held the spliff back up to his mouth – he couldn't let Kageyama beat him – before turning to look back at Yamaguchi who had settled himself on the ground in a fetal position, staring at nothing in particular. He poked his friend's shoulder. Yamaguchi looked up at the contact.
He gave him a thumbs up and waited for Yamaguchi to respond in kind before putting his hand back down. Yamaguchi shuffled closer until his head was resting against Hinata's knee, eyes half closed and glazed over.
The conversation had shifted over to something else during their interaction, something about the food at the training camp.
“...just saying, the yakitori was the best part of the lunch.”
“Mmm, no. Why would you prefer chicken over beef? The beef was the best part,” Tanaka insisted. He turned to face him. “Hinata?”
“Beef,” he muttered after thinking it over for a second.
“There you have it. The verdict's in.”
Nishinoya pouted. “Hinata, I'm not buying you any more popsicles.”
“What?” he yelped. “Never mind, chicken's better.”
“Nope. Too late.”
Kageyama raised his hand like he was in class. “Will you still buy me popsicles?”
“Well, you were neutral, so I'll buy you one popsicle.”
“Yus,” he huffed, pumping his fist down.
“I'm stealing your popsicle,” Hinata said.
“No you're not.”
“I'll lick it before you get to eat it. Then it'll be mine.”
“Don't lick my ice cream! What are you, five?”
“I'm licking it.”
He frowned. “I'll ask for a flavor you don't like.”
“I like all of them.”
“Fine, you can have it.”
Hinata blinked, caught aback by the sudden nice gesture. He stumbled for a response and instead opted to take another drag. He waved a hand in front of his face, dispelling the smoke. Too late, he considered the fact that the smell of the drug had probably seeped into his clothes, staining them with the hefty stench. He wouldn't be able to wear this for the rest of camp and he'd have to find a way to wash it once he got home without his mom knowing.
He sucked in another breath, staring ahead at the trees behind Tanaka and Nishinoya, large maple trees with thick trunks, their branches thrusting out for several meters before entangling with the branches of nearby trees. They had to be old. Really old. Fifty? Sixty years? That was such a long time.
He didn't feel right. Nothing had changed. The third years were still sitting in front of him, Kageyama to his left, Yamaguchi settled against his right leg, halfway passed out. Yet everything had changed, like he'd hopped dimensions somehow but to a parallel one, identical to the one he'd just left.
Acutely aware of the brush of his clothes against his skin, the weight of Yamaguchi's head against his leg, the sound of Tanaka and Nishinoya's voices drifting over his head, unintelligible.
When had they learned how to speak English?
No, that was still Japanese. He could understand if he focused all his attention, stared directly at their faces, but it took a lot of energy and he felt fatigued all of a sudden, the thousand jumps, laps, thuds against a volleyball he'd taken throughout the day weighing down on him.
He glanced at Kageyama.
Who was staring at him.
“What?” he hissed, self-conscious.
“Nothing,” Kageyama stated, looking away.
He turned back to the joint still perched between his two fingers, much smaller than it had been before. When had it gotten that small?
He brought it up to his lips.
It wasn't done yet.
He shivered as another chilled wind blew at them, this one colder than any of the others had been, throwing Kageyama's smoke in his face. He briefly wondered what time it was. He'd left his phone in the cabin.
Words.
“Shouyou.”
Oh. His name.
“Shouyou. D'ja know this place used to be a graveyard?” Nishinoya smirked, raising his eyebrows, waiting for a reaction.
“Hokkaido?”
“Bwaha! The entire island of Hokkaido?” Tanaka burst out laughing.
“No, the campsite, stupid!” Nishinoya snorted.
He chuckled along with them despite himself, bubbles of laughter popping out of his chest and out his mouth unbidden. He rubbed a hand against his face.
Kageyama was staring at him again.
“Problem?” He lifted his hands up defensively like he was ready to fight, even though chances were more likely he'd fall over than land a hit anywhere.
Kageyama widened his eyes like he was surprised before looking away again. Acting weird. Was he high? He tried to look for Kageyama's joint but couldn't see it in his hands anymore. Was he done?
Am I done? he thought, picking up his own spliff. Almost done. But it was burned out. He pointed at it. Luckily Noya seemed to understand what he wanted, and he watched as the tip of the joint burned bright red, the fire still active and flickering on the edge before going out with another gust of wind.
How many more would it take? He took a deep breath in, feeling the smoke take up every inch of space within his body, drifting down his windpipe and into his lungs in rivulets then back out through his nose. He gripped at the grass underneath his empty hand, digging his nails into the moist soil.
Hokkaido.
Had he really said Hokkaido?
He clutched a hand to his chest. His heart was beating really fast. He tried to surface back to the conversation at hand, but couldn't, too much effort. Oh, God. What if this was forever? Could weed fuck your brain? He couldn't play volleyball like this.
People. Another school. He shuddered in a breath, trying to take in all the newcomers. Look normal, look normal. Don't get in trouble.
“Hinata!”
He swiveled around to face whoever had called his name.
Hoshiumi. With his own blunt. Definitely not in trouble.
Talking. Crap. He nodded a little, trying to look like he was listening. No idea what he was saying. Focus?
“...thought that spike was pretty intense...”
Volleyball.
“Yeah, it was like fwoosh!” Swing your hand for emphasis.
It worked. That seemed to satisfy him.
He leaned back a little, pressing both hands against the springy grass.
When had Yamaguchi gone?
Hoshiumi, talking a little more before a teammate walked over. Distracted. Wave goodbye.
Bye.
Where was the rest of his joint? Did he finish it?
Kageyama staring at him again. Should talk to him about manners later.
Something poking against his back.
Nishinoya.
“Shouyou, we're going back. You good?”
Nod.
“Holy shit, you're really high.”
Shake head.
“C'mon, let me help ya.” Hand underneath his arm. Stand. One knee at a time.
Lean. Step by step. Focus on walking. Don't trip.
Cabin? Already?
“You two good for the night?”
Nod.
“Okay. Good night!”
Wave.
Warmer inside.
Tsukishima sleeping with his back to them. Yamaguchi on top bunk, arms wrapped around pillow. Safe.
Why did Kageyama have to pick the bottom bunk.
Ladder.
No matter. He could fly.
Leap.
Everything crashing down on him, thudding on the floor heavily, ladder on top of his body.
“I think I'm broken.” To no one in particular.
Voice.
“Huh?”
“You're not broken. Just high.” Kageyama, in his field of vision. Hand. Take it.
Standing.
“...need help?”
Top bunk too high. Too short.
Nod.
“Get on my back.”
Stepping. Lifting. Leg over. Other leg.
Soft. Comfortable.
Creaking from underneath.
Kageyama. In his bed.
“Kageyama,” he whispered into the dark.
“What?”
“...I forget.”
“Okay.”
He stared out into the darkness of the room, eyes just picking out Tsukishima and Yamaguchi on the other side of the room. Hand gripping the mattress. High feeling going away a little bit.
“Do you believe in different dimensions?”
“...what?” Kageyama's disgruntled voice.
“Parellel dimensions. Do you believe in them?”
Silence. Asleep?
“I don't know.”
Ah. He'd been thinking.
“You?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why ask?”
He pressed a fist against a cheek. “I don't know.”
Kageyama's face. In his face.
“What the fuck?”
“What?”
“You scared me.”
“...Sorry.” Kageyama was staring at him again.
“Why are you staring?”
“I'm coming up.”
“What?”
Before he could protest, Kageyama had already swung a leg over and was lifting himself up onto the top bunk, leaning over Hinata's body. Staring at him again. He stared back.
Kageyama grabbed his face with his hand, squeezing his jaw.
“Ow. Stop.” He slapped at Kageyama's hand.
“Sorry.”
Apologizing twice in one night? Definitely weird.
Kageyama settled in next to him with a sigh, the mattress creaking underneath the both of them.
They were close, their physical proximity exaggerated by the drug coursing through his veins. He could feel Kageyama's soft breaths on his face, his half-lidded bloodshot dark blue eyes focused on him. Intensely.
Kageyama lifted a hand, settling it into his hair and pulling. Hard. He had half a mind to tell him to stop again, but decided against it. If that was the way Kageyama had to ride out his high, then he might as well take it.
Kageyama's thumb came next, gently pressing against the bottom of his jaw, his feather-light touch drifting over to the pulse point on his throat.
His heart was beating quickly again, pounding against his ribcage, though it felt more pleasant this time. He hoped Kageyama couldn't feel it through his pulse.
He retracted his hand before diving back in again, pressing two lithe fingers vertically against Hinata's lips for a moment, then sliding his hand back down to the space between the two of them.
Hinata blew softly, watching his silky hair lift and part away from his face with his breath.
Lips, supple and wet, crushed up against his own, parting them open, a tongue slipping into his mouth and sliding around before separating with a muted smack that echoed in the quiet room.
“...Sorry.”
Three times. Not normal.
“S'okay,” he muttered.
Kageyama nodded with a look of relief, then turned over to face the wall, apparently done with grabbing at various parts of his body.
He stared at Kageyama's broad, muscular back, shoulders lifting minutely with each breath. He scratched a finger against his shirt, watching the fabric bend and fold around his fingertip. They hadn't even bothered to change out of their day clothes.
Kageyama had just kissed him. The belated realization hit him like a truck, replaying the scene over and over again in his mind's eye. Giddiness sprouted in his chest, sending shivers up and down his limbs and settling low in his gut.
“What are you giggling about?” Kageyama's voice broke into the dark silence again.
“I'm the big spoon.”
Kageyama flipped over in a flash, grabbing at Hinata's arm and forcing him to turn over to his other side. They slid into position, Hinata pressing flush against Kageyama's front, his cold hand slithering underneath his shirt and lying flat against his stomach.
He propped the top of his head up beneath Kageyama's chin, resisting the urge to place his hand atop Kageyama's for fear that the latter would remove it if he called attention to it. He shoved his face down into the mattress instead, curling his hand in front of his chest and listening to Kageyama's light snoring, the hair underneath Kageyama's mouth moving around with each breath, allowing the repetitive motion to lull him to sleep.