Work Text:
It was Natsu’s fault. All of it. She was the one who planted the idea inside of Shouyou’s head, the one he couldn’t get out no matter what he tried to shove in there to replace it. It was even tainting his thoughts on volleyball and that was sacrilegious.
(Sugawara taught him that word, and the first time he used it against Tsukishima, Yamaguichi laughed so hard he sprayed water out his nose).
It started with him chasing Natsu around the house. She was shrieking happily, proclaiming that not even the world’s fastest man could catch her. A challenge, and one which Shouyou was determined to win.
Natsu was sneaky, bolting around corners, but Shouyou was quicker. When she ducked under the table, he slid underneath, grabbing her around the waist, his ear filled with her giggles. “I’m the world’s fastest man now!”
“But you’re not the world’s fastest girl. That’s me!”
“Deal.”
In their tussle, Shouyou’s phone had slid out from his pocket and was now lying on the floor, blinking green, meaning he had a message. Natsu crawled over to it, but instead of handing it to him, she flipped it open.
“Hey, gimme that!!” He jumped forward, but she was faster, rolling out of the way.
“You have a message from Grumpy Face-Kun.” Shouyou’s hand brushed her wrist, but she turned again, pulling the phone out of reach. “Who’s that?”
He leapt forward again, but she ducked underneath. He dropped all his weight, trapping Natsu underneath him. She wiggled, not ready to submit defeat. “He says ‘okay’ but why is there a heart?”
Shouyou froze and his stomach did something funny. “He used a heart?”
Natsu handed him the phone, and he snatched it back, sitting up and scooting away so he could read the message in peace. With his knees curled to his chest, he reopened the message and:
ok, whatever. Idiot.
No heart.
He checked again, then checked to see if maybe he had gotten another message from Yachi or something with a heart, but nothing. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to Natsu’s grinning face.
“Gotcha!” She pointed right at him. “He’s your boyfriend isn’t he!”
Her grin only grew as his face began to burn. “Ew! No! Kageyama is not my boyfriend!”
“Onii-chan? Can I ask you sumthin?”
Shouyou had been ready to jump her and engage in a tickle fight until she begged for forgiveness, but something about her tone halted him. He moved back from his jumping position, slowly falling onto his bum. “Yeah, what?”
“What’s it like kissing your boyfriend?”
When Natsu shrieked surrender from his tickles, Shouyou didn’t let up until she yelled that she was going to pee. She deserved it.
It had taken a long time for him and Kageyama to get where they were. Now, Shouyou laughs at it, thinking of how he thought Kageyama would be his greatest enemy and not his strongest partner. Sure, they played on the court with other people, but everyone knew they were at their best when they played together.
They played together, practised together, and sometime within their first year, began to eat lunch together too. Then, they began to study together, and walk home together, and, most recently, they began to hang out and do things other than volleyball.
But Natsu had ruined everything, because now, Shouyou began to wonder what it would be like if Kageyama was his boyfriend.
Not that he wanted that! Kageyama was grumpy and rude and mean, and yeah, sometimes he bought Shouyou lunch, or a drink, and sometimes when Shouyou was really tired after a match, he’d let him lean his head against his shoulder and sleep, but Shouyou never really could because it smelt so much like Kageyama that it overwhelmed him and he became aware of every little movement of the other, which was why he felt it that one time Kageyama’s finger traced lightly over the back of his hand, and it felt so nice that he kept pretending to be asleep even if that was unfair and felt a bit like lying but Kageyama was being nice to him and he wasn’t about to let that end.
Even thinking about Kageyama was exhausting.
Of course Kageyama wasn’t his boyfriend, and of course he didn’t want that, but still. A boyfriend might be nice. Especially for that whole kissing thing. That was what Natsu had ruined the most.
Kageyama never did anything half-way. He was either terrible at something or he was aiming to be the best at it. Would it be the same with kissing?
He tried not to think about it, he really did. But Natsu had planted the seed and for some reason, it insisted on sprouting.
Stupid, stupid sister.
He was too tired to ride his bike and besides, Kageyama didn’t have his (he had learned, a while ago, that Kageyama did have a bike, but he found it was too much work and he figured that if he wanted to go fast, he’d just run. Hinata tried to explain the appeal, of both sitting and going fast, but Kageyama had started to run and he wasn’t going to sit around and let him win). He pulled his bike beside him, his feet practically dragging along. Kageyama was having his post-practice milk.
“Doesn’t that make you sick?” Even thinking about drinking milk around practice made his stomach churn.
Kageyama shrugged and crushed the milk box in his hand. “I like milk.”
And there—there it was. At the corner of Kageyama’s mouth, a small drop of milk. His tongue darted out and he licked it away, but not before Shouyou had seen. He quickly turned away, his face as pink and warm as the setting sun in front of them.
His lips would taste like milk then, but would they be warm and comforting like heated milk before bed, or would they be cool and refreshing, like falling into a pool after a long day of work?
Or maybe they wouldn’t taste like milk at all. Maybe they would taste like the ocean, blue and deep and never-ending. Or maybe they would taste like the remnants of curry, Kageyama’s favourite food. Or maybe they wouldn’t taste like anything recognizable, but rather something all together new, something that could only be described as Kageyama’s lips and the smile hidden underneath.
“Why are you staring at me?”
Shouyou stopped. There was a little crease between Kageyama’s eyebrows and small lines around his mouth. It was his curious face, although to those uneducated in the language of Kageyama, he must have looked angry and intimidating. Shouyou could spot the quiver though, the little flick in his eyebrows that showed worry, not aggression. Kageyama was nervous.
There were two options Shouyou could make, but it wasn’t really a contest. “Come on, this way.” It was too hard to drag them both, so he dropped his bike and wrapped his hand around Kageyama’s wrist. With a quick tug, he pulled him off the path and into the bush beside it. He arranged himself so that he could still see his bike, but they were mostly hidden by shrubbery. The setting sun pierced through the tree leaves and settled in the shadows on Kageyama’s face.
“What are you—”
“We’re friends, right?” Shouyou interrupted. “Best friends.”
Kageyama nodded, his eyes flickering between Shouyou’s. “Yeah.”
“And best friends are closer than other friends, close enough they can do things other friends can’t, right?”
“What are you talking about?”
“And it’s normal to feel more for your best friend than for your other friends, right?”
This time, Kageyama didn’t reply.
Shouyou waited. His eyes traced over every wrinkle, every crease on his face, but Kageyama looked away.
Something crashed in his chest, something Shouyou hadn’t even realized was there. It was a tsunami with no warning, a rainfall with no umbrella. An earthquake with no where left to stand. He took a step back, rustling the leaves behind him. Kageyama’s eyes turned back to his. “Hinata, I—”
Shouyou laughed loudly, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m being dumb. Stupid Hinata, right?” He broke out of the bushes and grabbed his bike. “I’ll see you later, Kageyama!”
He hopped onto his bike in one fluid movement and refused to look back. He wondered if Kageyama called after him, because his ears didn’t seem to be working anymore. His eyes were watering but convinced himself it was only from the wind.
~*~
Tobio stood in the bush long after the spin of the wheels disappeared into the wind. He had dropped his milk box and it had landed at his feet. He crushed it into the dirt, felt guilty, and picked it up again.
What had that been all about?
He had learned long ago he would never be able to understand Hinata. He was too fast, bolting from one emotion to the other. He seemed spontaneous, going from any emotion to excitement within the blink of an eye. While Tobio was a simmering pot, Hinata was a geyser. Underneath it all, Tobio knew Hinata was one thing: determined.
Which was why the past two minutes kept circling over and over in his brain. It didn’t make any sense.
They had been walking home like normal, but they had been quiet in a way they normally weren’t. Tobio liked the quiet, but he especially liked the quiet between him and Hinata. Hinata was always so loud, from his hair to his jumps to the way he spoke. Quiet was something he rarely was, which was why it felt so warm in his chest when Hinata was quiet around him. It was like Hinata woke Tobio up, pushing him to his limits, but Tobio soothed Hinata down, making him softer, subtler. The silence with Hinata wasn’t voiceless: it spoke more than words ever could.
Hinata broke the silence, like he always did, but it wasn’t with words. Tobio had loudly slurped up the rest of his drink. It dropped onto his lips and he licked them clean. But then Hinata wouldn’t stop looking at him. It ignited something in him, made him angry and uncomfortable, but only because he felt like he had been caught. The only reason he knew Hinata was staring at him was because he had been staring at him too.
Hinata was the sunlight, needed for life but impossible to look at. It was only in the twilight that Tobio could finally look his way and let his eyes and skin absorb his rays.
Hinata asked dumb things, he always did. Obviously they were friends. As much as Tobio kind of hated to admit it, for a long time, Hinata had been his only friend. Then, Hinata had thrown in the “b” word and Tobio felt blinded by him again, and his stomach swooped, and he felt angry that he let Hinata effect him this way, but he couldn’t help it. As much as the sun burned him, it warmed him too.
Hinata kept talking, never allowing either of them time to breathe. The words he said spun around Tobio’s head, but they didn’t make any sense. Hinata was such a dumbass, obviously you felt different for your best friends than your other friends, that’s what made them best.
But Tobio hit a roadblock in his brain. He wanted yell, tell him what an idiot he was and did they really have to do this here, because he could feel the mud soaking into his shoes. It wasn’t the words that set him off, but rather the unspoken ones in Hinata’s eyes, and the way they flashed down to his lips and—oh shit. Tobio felt like he had been burnt to a crisp. Somehow, Hinata knew.
It had hit Tobio like a sack of bricks when he has realized. It had only been a practise match, but before the match, Hinata had thrown himself at him. He was surprisingly firm, and small: so small that Tobio could wrap his arms all around him and still have room to spare. He was so short too, he had always known Hinata was short, but he was so short, with his head rested right on his chest, right above his heart, the one that kept drumming louder and louder---
He had pushed Hinata away. Hinata had grinned. Tobio needed sunglasses. “You better toss to me, and only to me!” Then Hinata had skipped off as though nothing had happened, as though Tobio’s brain hadn’t short circuited because Hinata was so small and so warm and he wanted to keep him close, to protect him, to let Hinata protect him ---
He had missed too many tosses that game. They had won, predictably, but just barely.
After the match, he had sat outside in the cold, head drooping to his knees. Of everyone in the entire world, it had to be Hinata.
It had been Daichi who found him. Daichi, whose arm slithered around his shoulders as Tobio let out a shaky sigh. Daichi who told him it was okay, that there are some things we can’t control, even if we wished we could.
Daichi was the only one who knew. Daichi was the one who told Hinata.
“Hinata, wait!”
He had been blocked for too long. He was already gone.
“Hinata, dumbass!”
He had to make this right. He had to let Hinata know that there was no way that this was going to effect anything, that his stupid, idiotic, dumbass feelings hadn’t ever affected the way he had treated him and weren’t going to start to now.
The mud squelched beneath his feet and his right food slipped from underneath him. His hands felt the cool dirt beneath him, and he pushed himself up before he could fully fall. He ran, feet pounding the pavement, his head darting every which way as he searched for that bright shock of orange hair.
“Hinata!” He yelled once more, hopelessly. He pushed himself to move even faster. “Shouyou!”
He almost missed him. He was standing in the middle of the path, staring out over the mountain. He skidded to a stop, catching himself on Hinata’s bike. He breathed heavily, staring back at Hinata’s wide brown eyes. “You idiot!” he exclaimed, but it sounded more like a gasp. “Who stops in the middle of---”
He didn’t get to finish his thought, because a hand curled into his shirt, and he was falling forward, but he didn’t crash into Hinata. Hinata crashed into him.
~*~
Shouyou was stupid. Kageyama was right. He was an idiot, because idiots were people who ran away, who saw a glimpse of the future and instead of dashing into it, turned around and blinded themselves and pretended it wasn’t there.
Kageyama wasn’t his boyfriend, but he wanted him to be. And he was going to kiss him.
He got off his bike. He couldn’t turn back now. Who knew where Kageyama was, or what he was doing, or if he even liked him anymore. The sun had disappeared now, he noted. Kageyama’s lips, he decided, would taste just like this: the first stars twinkling in the purple sky.
“You idiot!”
Shouyou stumbled as someone grabbed onto his bike, but it was only Kageyama, red in the face with sweat beaded on his forehead. He looked just the way Shouyou liked him best. His lips, he noted, were plump and red.
It didn’t matter what Kageyama was saying. Shouyou grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled them together. Kageyama’s heart was pounding against his ear. Shouyou squeezed his arms tighter, keeping them glued together. After a moment, he felt a comforting warmth wrap around him.
He turned his head so that his forehead pressed against Kageyama’s chest. He smelled like sweat. Shouyou didn’t mind. “You’re more than my best friend, Kageyama,” he mumbled.
“For… for me too.” It was so quiet that Shouyou barely heard it. Neither one of them moved.
“Kageyama. Can I ask you something?” He waited until he felt Kageyama’s chin brush against his head. “It’s kind of weird.”
“Everything you say is kind of weird.”
Shouyou let out a watery laugh at that. “Yeah, but this one is really weird.”
“Just tell me.”
He swallowed and licked his lips. To him, they tasted like nothing. “What do your lips taste like?”
Kageyama’s arms loosened around him and slid away. He could still feel their heaviness, as though their ghost remained. But this time, Shouyou didn’t step back. He stared straight forward, examining the crinkles on Kageyama’s shirt. Crinkles made, he realized, by his own face.
His eyes rose slowly, to Kageyama’s neck which was too long, but he kind of liked that, to his chin, which had the smallest of zits, to his lips. Right there. Trembling. Up to his nose, then his eyes.
“I don’t…” Kageyama cleared his throat. “I don’t know.”
Neither of them moved.
Shouyou let out a puff of air through his nose, laced his fingers into Kageyama’s shirt and yanked him down.
It was more like a collision and less like a kiss. His nose smushed into Kageyama’s face and he felt a sharp pain as their teeth clanked. He went to pull back, but there was a hand on his neck, holding him in place. Shouyou grinned and moved forward again. His lips were soft, softer than he thought anything could be, and cracked in a way that Shouyou had thought would be unappealing but rather sent chills down his spine.
When Shouyou pulled back, he was still smiling. “So?” Kageyama asked, glancing to the side. “What do you think?”
A sinking feeling. He hadn’t gotten to taste them, not really. His mind zoomed backwards, replaying the moment over and over. What had it been? They tasted like softness, but that wasn’t really a taste. Shouyou laughed. “I don’t know!”
Kageyama’s lips parted and his dark eyes locked on him. There were no lines on his face: it was clear, how it must look when he was sleeping and there was nothing left to fill his mind. He waited for Kageyama’s insult, his dumbass that sounded every day more and more like affection, but it never came. In fact, nothing came. Kageyama was as still as a dumb piece of wood except for his eyes, which kept searching inbetween his.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” Shouyou exclaimed, but it almost sounded like a whine. Kageyama blinked. “Stop it!”
Kageyama’s throat crackled. “Because you didn’t let me do it first.”
“Do what—”
He didn’t get to hear the rest. Kageyama had crashed their lips together.
They tasted just like he thought they would. They tasted like arguments and popsicles and the moment the sun disappears under the horizon. They tasted like Kageyama Tobio.
They tasted exactly how he thought they would. They tasted like the wind in the grass and flight and the last bit of chocolate cake. They tasted like Hinata Shouyou.
They tasted invincible.