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First Time
Hinata runs ahead, keys in hand, and throws open their apartment door before Kageyama even has a chance to exit the elevator. He’s back at his boyfriend’s side in a flash, throwing Kageyama’s left arm over his shoulders and putting his own around Kageyama’s waist.
Kageyama, for his part, lets out this long suffering sigh that Hinata recognizes as a sign that he’s getting exasperated. “I can walk by myself, you know,” he says, but he still leans against Hinata as they shamble slowly towards the apartment, his left foot held awkwardly above the ground. There’s a dark brace on his ankle that’s supposed to help keep the swelling down but it doesn’t make it any less painful for him to walk.
Finally! Hinata thinks. My height is actually useful.
It’s when they get to the door that they realize they have a problem.
“We’re not going to fit,” Kageyama deadpans.
Hinata’s face scrunches up in what his boyfriend knows is a classic look of denial and pure petulance. “Sure we will!”
The taller teen opens his mouth to rebuke that because no, they most certainly are not going to fit, but before he can make a single sound Hinata is manhandling him towards the open doorway. There’s not a whole lot he can do to fight it, he’s still leaning against Hinata and if he lets go he’s going to fall, so he shuffles forward and tries to pull back against his rash (and childish, so very very childish. Why does he date this eight year old again?) boyfriend at the same time.
“Would you just-“ he says, and then both his and Hinata’s shoulders are hitting the doorframe and they’re falling into an undignified pile inside the apartment.
Kageyama somehow ends up underneath Hinata, chin against the floor and ankle throbbing where he thinks his terrible, horrible, monster of a boyfriend kicked him. Groaning, he pushes himself onto his elbows and Hinata rolls off him with a splutter and a shout.
“I’m sorry!” he all but screeches, because he has absolutely no sense of volume control.
Kageyama rolls his eyes and carefully, ever so carefully, gets to his feet.
“It’s fine, Hinata.”
Second Time
Kageyama gets himself settled on the couch while Hinata runs around like a chicken with his head cut off. Which…okay yeah, that’s pretty on par for the little orange haired spiker, but still, today it’s especially bad.
“Do you want something to drink?” Hinata asks him for maybe the fifth time. He’s leaning out of the kitchen entryway and Kageyama lays his head back against the couch to see him rather than turn around. The view is upside down but oh well.
“No, Hinata, I’m fine.”
His boyfriend blows out a heavy breath but seems to settle, if just a little, before coming to stand in front of Kageyama. He seems to contemplate the taller teen’s form, one arm draped over the back of the couch and his bad leg up on the cushions, before he comes to a decision.
“Elevation,” he declares, “and ice!”
He scurries away before Kageyama can even ask what he means. The answer is pretty obvious though, when he comes back with one of the pillows off their bed and a squishy blue rectangle that Kageyama recognizes from the time Hinata had given himself a black eye (by jumping without looking first, the idiot) and Daichi had wanted to make sure he’d still be able to see the next day.
“I know that brace is supposed to keep your ankle from swelling,” Hinata rambles, fluffing the pillow with both hands. “But a cold pack couldn’t hurt right? Twice the not swelling…ness…”
He kneels beside the couch and lifts Kageyama’s foot to put the pillow under it, giving it a few more fluffs once it’s in position, before turning his attention towards the ice pack.
Kageyama watches his brow knit as he reads the instructions on it.
Really, his ankle is fine. It’s stopped throbbing and Suga, who had given him the brace, had said he should be fine to play again in just a few days. But it’s also really nice to have Hinata’s undivided attention like this. He’s so flighty, so excitable, that it’s hard to get him to focus on one thing for more than a few minutes. Unless that thing is volleyball. Or sex. And even with those it’s still pretty easy to distract him. So he’ll take what he can get when he can get it.
“Okay, I got it!” Hinata finally says, looking up from his studies with a smile. “There are these little beads inside and once you move them around enough they start to get all cold!” He punctuates this statement by giving the pouch a squeeze. Evidently he squeezes too hard though, because the thing bursts with a loud pop and the liquid inside rushes out in what is an impressively straight line aiming straight for Kageyama.
“Oh my god!” Hinata shrieks, springing to his feet and Kageyama just looks down at the splatter of blue that he can see stretching from his waist all the way up his chest. He’s ninety nine point nine percent sure there’s also some on his face and in his hair.
“You’re a moron,” he states blandly, and then turns and stands with a small wince. “I’m going to take a shower.”
At least none of it got on the couch.
Third Time
“Wait!!”
Before Kageyama takes a single step, Hinata jumps in front of him with a frantic cry, his smaller hands pushing firmly at his boyfriend’s chest in a clear indicator to sit back down. Kageyama sits. He also glares profusely at Hinata, his bottom lip pushing up and out. (He will never, ever, ever admit that it’s a pout. Because it’s not. At all.)
“Just....hold on,” Hinata pleads, eyes wide. “I want to help!”
Without really thinking about it Kageyama sinks back against the couch in silent assent. Because yeah there’s no way he’ll be able to say no to that face. (Something else he’ll never openly admit.)
Hinata relaxes with him, the guilt melting from his features and a smirk stealing across his lips. “Besides,” he intones, one hand on his hip, “you shouldn’t shower by yourself. What if you slip and fall? I’ll have to go with you from now on, keep you safe.”
“My ankle isn’t going to be sprained forever, idiot,” Kageyama says, because he’s not going to actually turn down showers with Hinata but he’s not just going to lie back either.
“Whatever. You look stupid like that you know.” Leaning forward Hinata swipes a finger across his boyfriend’s cheek, smearing the cold pack liquid even further and Kageyama catches his wrist before he can escape again.
“And whose fault is that?”
Hinata makes a small (and okay, yeah, really cute) eep! noise, jerking his hand back with startling speed. Then he tries to glare, which is even cuter.
“I said I’d help didn’t I?” And then he’s stomping off into the kitchen, the sound of cupboards slamming open and shut marking his progress.
He returns a moment later and this time he perches on the edge of the couch, body angled towards Kageyama. There’s a rag in his hand, one his boyfriend knows he put in the dirty clothes because he used it to shine his dress shoes just last week. How it got out without actually being washed is a mystery but he bets Hinata has something to do with it.
The rag makes contact with Kageyama’s cheek before he has a chance to say anything and he can actually feel himself getting dirtier as Hinata tries to scrub gently at the mess he made, concentration in his eyes.
Kageyama grabs his wrist, makes eye contact, says his name.
The shorter male stills, looks hopeful.
“There’s shoe polish on that rag.”
The uncomprehending look Hinata gives him morphs fairly quickly into confusion followed by utter shock. Kageyama releases his wrist and Hinata squeaks when he pulls the cloth back to see the large smear of black he’s left behind.
“I’m going to take a shower.”
Hinata doesn’t argue this time.
Fourth Time
Kageyama takes his time because he can but also because shoe polish turns out to be a bitch to wash off. It takes scrubbing his face repeatedly with soap before it comes off, but at least the cold pack stuff is easier. The real difficult part is in putting the majority of his weight on his good leg and not slipping.
He dresses in the bathroom when he’s done, towels his hair off and puts the brace back on before he steps out. A shriek and the strong, bitter scent of something burning is what greets him.
Leaning against the hallway wall, Kageyama hobbles towards the kitchen where he can hear Hinata yelling and cussing, the smoke detector beeping shrilly, and the clatter of metal things. He’s not quite sure what he’s expecting to find when he finally sticks his head around the corner, but Hinata wildly waving a flaming pot around is not it.
There are several other pots on the counter, all of which seem to be empty, but the stove is also on fire and there’s black smoke beginning to hang heavy in the air. Hinata scrambles across the kitchen with his odd weapon, turns the sink on, and thrusts whatever meal he’s just desecrated under the flow of water. Instantly the fire roars, surging up towards the faucet and, consequently, Hinata. The smaller teen falls back with a cry, cradling his left hand to his chest and Kageyama finds himself stumbling forward on pure instinct.
“You idiot, it’s a grease fire!” he yells, stooping to pick Hinata up from the floor. The skin on the back of his hand is red and shiny but the burn is light and certainly not serious. “Turn the water off and pour flour on it.”
Wide eyed, Hinata does as he’s told while Kageyama turns and opens the kitchen window. Both fires go out quickly after that and Kageyama spends several minutes waving a dish towel under the smoke detector until it finally stops screaming. When things are quiet he glances around the room to assess the damage.
There’s flour all across the floor and counters, the stovetop has been blackened and there are scorch marks on the ceiling above the sink. And then there’s Hinata, sniffling with his hand held protectively to his chest, his clothes and face and hair all coated in a thin layer of white. He looks like he’s going to start crying any second so Kageyama reaches over, takes his hand and guides him to the sink to put cool water on the burn.
“What were you trying to cook anyways?” he asks eventually when Hinata looks a little less shaky.
“Canned soup,” is the miserable response.
Fifth Time
Hinata promises to clean the kitchen and Kageyama agrees to order them pizza in return. He goes to sit on the couch again when he’s done on the phone, flipping through tv channels and waiting for Hinata to finish so that they can watch a movie. It’s when he hears a faint crashing noise that he realizes something’s wrong.
The kitchen is just turning out to be an unlucky place that day, because when Kageyama comes to investigate once more there’s another mess waiting for him. This time it’s localized at least. Everything has been cleaned up and put away, but there’s a ripped trash bag caught on an open cabinet’s handle and its contents are strewn across the floor.
And once again, there’s Hinata. He’s crouched next to the mess, face hidden behind his knees and flour still in his hair. Kageyama can hear his quiet sobs from across the room and can see the faint tremors that rack his body.
And the one time Kageyama makes sure he gets it right
Kageyama feels his chest constrict and as gently as he can he lowers himself to his knees beside his boyfriend.
“Oi,” he sighs, sliding his fingers into Hinata’s hair gently. “What’s wrong?”
Hinata doesn’t respond at first, just hugs his knees harder but eventually he raises his head and fixes a watery gaze on the floor.
“I just wanted to help,” he all but sobs, tears still collecting in the corners of his eyes. “I wanted to help you feel better and all I did was make things worse.”
Kageyama’s chest gives another one of those tight squeezes, like he can’t quite get enough breath, like his heart isn’t being given enough room to beat. He lets out a shaky exhalation and then stands, pulling a reluctant Hinata with him. And then he crushes his boyfriend against his chest and buries his face in Hinata’s flour-y hair.
“Idiot,” he murmurs, voice surprisingly wavy (or maybe not considering he can feel Hinata shaking against him). “What makes you think I wanted any of those things?”
“I wanted to help,” is the repeated answer.
Kageyama forces himself to relax, to pull away from Hinata and look down into the smaller teen’s face. Hinata is still avoiding his gaze, but when Kageyama draws a gentle hand across his cheek, wiping his tears away, he finally looks up.
“You really want to help me feel better?”
Hinata’s nod is instantaneous but tiny, eyes never leaving Kageyama’s. The taller teen steps away, taking Hinata’s hand in his, and leads them both back into the living. Sitting on the couch he crosses his legs, bad ankle held out in front of him, and then pulls Hinata down into his lap, his back to Kageyama’s front. He settles his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder, arms sliding around his waist, and breathes out.
“Pick a movie,” Kagayama says, handing him the remote. “And just sit with me. That’s all I want.”
They stay like that the rest of the night, even after the pizza’s arrived, and when they crawl into bed Kageyama pulls Hinata against his chest once more and falls asleep with his face pressed into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck.