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When Hinata confesses to Kageyama, he fully expects to be rebuffed. He isn’t quite sure why he decides to confess anyway—maybe it’s out of some uninhibited hope, or maybe he just can’t quell his feelings any longer.
Kageyama stares at him for a moment, cheeks turning rosy in the dusk. (It’s a beautiful contrast, Hinata can’t help but think.)
“What—what did you say?”
“I said that I like you,” Hinata repeats, faintly. “I understand if—”
“No,” Kageyama says quickly, catching Hinata off-guard. “No, I—I… That’s… Me, too.” He covers his mouth with his hand just as his lips start to quirk upwards. Hinata wants nothing more than to see that smile grow wider and wider.
Hinata’s hand is trembling ever-so-slightly when he takes Kageyama’s—trembling, too, and a little clammy—in his own and intertwines their fingers on their walk home that night.
They don’t kiss when they part. Hinata lets go, savors the tiny little smile on Kageyama’s face, and returns it. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, waving as he gets on his bike. He imagines Kageyama smiling like that the whole way home.
/ * \
For all their competitiveness and brashness in everything else, Kageyama and Hinata are shy about this. Everything is new and uncertain: the words and actions taste strange, like a foreign language on their tongues, but one they want to become fluent in nonetheless.
They get flustered every time the other is openly affectionate. They’re feeling out boundaries, discovering what's good and what isn’t; but in that vulnerability is an unparalleled intimacy.
Kageyama is sleeping over at Hinata’s tonight—a regular occurrence for them, but the first time since they’ve started dating. Usually, Kageyama takes the guest futon, but something possesses Hinata to ask—“Did you want to bother with setting up the futon?”
Kageyama startles. “Are you asking if I—”
“Only if you want to, I mean! I just thought, maybe, that it’d be…” He trails off, rubbing his cheeks as though to get rid of the blush that’s crawled up.
“I think it’d be nice,” Kageyama says. “Besides, I won’t have to sleep on the floor, and there’ll be plenty of room for me ‘cause you’re so small.”
“Shut up,” Hinata bites back, but without any vitriol. “You’ve never complained about sleeping on the floor before.”
“Maybe because I have manners—”
“We both know the reason you’re jumping ship now, Kageyama-kun.” Hinata smirks at him, not waiting for a reply before he leaves the room to go change.
As Hinata is about to fall asleep, he’s hyper-aware of so many things: Kageyama’s gentle, even breathing against the nape of his neck, the weight of Kageyama’s arm slung over his side, the crisp scent of Kageyama’s shampoo, and the way they seem to slot together so perfectly. Hinata is encompassed by Kageyama, by everything about him. His heart pounds in his ears—they’ve never been so physically close before.
Kageyama’s arm is resting on his hip, almost protectively. His hand is lying on the sheets on Hinata’s side. In the low light, Hinata can see it unfurled, tantalizingly so—he wants to grab hold of it, to have Kageyama’s slow, sleepy pulse beat against his own, to fall asleep connected. So he does.
Kageyama mumbles something in his sleep and readjusts himself a little, but doesn’t let go of Hinata’s hand. Hinata stares at their intertwined fingers for a long, long while, thinking about everything and nothing, mostly letting the image sink deep into his memory.
When Hinata wakes up the next morning, they’re a mess of limbs—legs all tangled together, arms stuck half-asleep. Hinata almost doesn’t want to get out of bed. Kageyama wakes up soon after, though, pulling his arm away and complaining about pins and needles and how Hinata is so much heavier than he seems.
His voice is husky and raspy from disuse, making Hinata sit up to look at him. It’s not that it’s anything particularly special to hear. That happens to everyone, happens to Hinata half the time, yet the thought that maybe nobody ever outside Kageyama’s family has heard him or seen him like this—hair mussed up, sleep marks and drool lines on his face—but Hinata…
“Can I kiss you?” Hinata blurts. Kageyama is still waking up, hasn’t even sat up yet. He rubs his eyes, suddenly stopping at Hinata’s question.
“You—you can’t just ask that out of nowhere, dumbass!”
“Well, I wanted to! So I asked! I can’t help it if you’re all—stupid and cute and…”
Kageyama is covering his face with his hands. “You’re making it worse, idiot. Just stop talking already.”
“Well, maybe I will if you give me your answer!”
Through the space in-between Kageyama’s fingers, Hinata can see Kageyama’s cheeks grow redder. “It’s—fine, I guess.”
“I’m not gonna kiss you if it’s only fine, dummy.”
Kageyama only grows even more flustered. “Ugh. It’s—good, okay? I want you to.”
Hinata’s lips quirk into a smile. “Yeah, that sounds okay.”
Carefully, Hinata crawls on top of Kageyama, one knee on either side of him, holding himself up. Kageyama has moved his hands away from his face. They are staring right at each other. “Is this good?”
Kageyama nods, as though words won’t come.
“Okay.”
So Hinata leans down and kisses Kageyama with more confidence than he really has, revelling in the softness of the brush of their lips against one another’s. Kageyama exhales sharply out of his nose; Hinata smiles against Kageyama’s lips. Kageyama raises his arms to fist them in the back of Hinata’s shirt, as if to pull him closer. Hinata obliges, kissing him until his only thought is Kageyama, Kageyama, Kageyama.
When they part, Hinata’s lips are sensitive in a way that they’ve never been before. There’s a sort of dazed look in Kageyama’s eyes that he loves.
Even through the gross morning breath—“That was good,” Hinata whispers for lack of a better word, not wanting to break the delicacy of the moment.
Kageyama hums in agreement. Hinata climbs off him and off the bed, stretching. When Hinata glances behind him at Kageyama, Kageyama is looking down at the floor with this contented smile on his face, so small that he might not even notice it himself.
“I really, really like you,” Hinata tells him, the feeling welling up and spilling out of him.
Kageyama’s face briefly distorts in surprise. Then he smiles just the tiniest bit wider. “Yeah. Me, too.”