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Hinata has been on edge all day.
Practice is nearly over, and despite his mood he’d managed to play pretty well- if you ignored the frowns he’d make the moment he had nothing to do.
Despite what everyone says about him, Hinata does think, and he thinks often. Usually his thoughts are preoccupied with volleyball, but lately more and more of them have been preoccupied by his boyfriend.
(The word still feels so foreign on his tongue, but he likes it.)
Hinata looks across the court at said boyfriend as he talks to Yamaguchi about something or another. Tsukishima makes him feel warm, he makes him feel safe, he makes him want to work harder than anyone else and reach higher than every moon and sun and star in the universe. Tsukishima makes Hinata feel lots of things.
(It’s too bad then, Hinata thinks as he clutches the fabric of his chest where it meets his heart, that one of those things hurts.)
When Hinata had told Kageyama the stupid idiot had asked if Hinata had finally gotten enough of Tsukishima’s teasing; if maybe it’d all finally gotten to his head. Hinata was affronted of course, he doesn’t admit it (often) but he enjoys their little spats. He knows Tsukishima wouldn’t make fun of the things that truly matter to Hinata, and Hinata would never hurt Tsukishima on purpose either. Nothing his boyfriend could tell him could hurt him more than a little shove- it’s the things Tsukishima *doesn’t* say that hurt.
Hinata frowns deeper and looks to the ground. Tsukishima doesn’t say a lot of things.
He’s not as quiet as his previous boyfriends though. Izumin had no bite; Aone had been too shy; Inuoka, despite being so loud, was essentially quiet in the way he traversed romance. Tsukishima isn’t any of these things. He’s loud when he wants to be, vocal when he needs to be, he’s blunt and honest and he says things to Hinata that make him feel like he’s on top of the world.
“Why don’t you stretch on the monkey bars and grow a little taller, shrimp?”
“Your block then could’ve used some work.”
“Actually the velociraptor was from the Cretaceous period, not the Jurassic one-“
“Pfft- what the fuck? Are you an idiot? Hahaha-!”
“I really make you feel that way..?”
“Shouyou...”
“I like you.”
Hinata blushes and Yachi snickers at him from across the court. He jogs towards the club room and his hand brushes over Tsukishima’s as he does and suddenly everything is too warm and too sweet.
(But the aching in his heart won’t go away.)
He’s not staying for extra practice today; he’s busy. Kageyama berates him momentarily for it but he doesn’t mind. His mind is full of thoughts of big warm hands and chapped lips and glasses hitting the bridge of his nose. Not to mention the little package he’d haphazardly stuffed into his boyfriend’s locker earlier in the morning.
Hinata was sure Tsukishima had seen it but he hadn’t said a single thing about it all day.
And therein lies the problem.
There were times when Hinata would give something to Tsukishima but the latter would only barely acknowledge it. There were times when Hinata would do a great block but Tsukishima would do nothing more than blink in his direction. Sometimes it felt like Hinata was too scared to talk about things he likes, years of people ignoring him as he happily talked about volleyball or manga culminating into a feeling of quiet despair whenever he’s ignored.
He hates being ignored more than anything. It hurts like a rejection. It hurts like a dismissal. It hurts like being left and abandoned, like a cat left in a basket near the river, far away from a home that doesn’t want it. Like practicing alone when there is no one to let him indulge in the only thing that had ever made his blood burn with life. Like being a boy left behind as two of his best friends in the world go off to a higher stage, his abilities set aside by the world at large for reasons he cannot control. You’d think he’d be used to it by now, considering how often it happens, but it just seems to hurt more.
(The fact that he cares so much about Tsukishima only makes it worse.)
“Are we going to go or are you going to keep staring holes into your fucking locker?”
Hinata blinks and whips his head around to pout at his boyfriend, “shut up, Stingyshima.”
He closes his locker with a mediocre CLANG and stomps his way over to Tsukishima’s side. The moment the two of them fall into step their hands fit into one another naturally as breathing. It feels good. Familiar. Tsukishima’s hands are so big that Hinata struggles to hold them properly, but they’re warm and calloused and the sports tape is fun to run his fingers over rhythmically.
They walk out together. Hinata decides he’ll stay over at Tsukishima’s in lieu of taking his bike with them and cycling all the way home. Tsukishima doesn’t even blink, the familiarity of the action making all protest die down between them.
Everything is calm. Everything is warm. Everything is good.
(Except the little growing ache in Hinata’s chest.)
Hinata rests his head against Tsukishima’s arm and sighs. His boyfriend does the same, the warmth of his cheek reaching Hinata through his hair. Hinata pushes his free hand into his jacket pocket, feeling the frayed edges of the little folded paper he’d placed there earlier that day and bites his lip.
When he’d told Yachi about his woes she’d given him much better advice than stupid Kageyama.
“You should write down how you feel and give it to him,” she’d said.
“Huh? Why would I do that when I could just tell him??”
“Because,” she’d replied, rolling her eyes, “you just spent thirty minutes trying to explain it to me, and you got off track more than three times. If you write it down you can figure out the most important parts, and then give it to him directly!”
Hinata’s eyes had sparkled, never had Yachi looked more angelic that moment- ranch dressing and lettuce peaking out of her lips and all. He’d spent a good five minutes writing it all down, and a further fifteen simmering it down to a few short points with Yachi’s help, all in perfect grammar and kanji.
(He just hopes it’ll be enough.)
When they finally make it to Tsukishima’s house Hinata only has a few minutes to greet his mother and older brother. The two of them leave with a wave and bright smiles that are surprisingly characteristic of the Tsukishima family.
(Even his own Tsukishima on rare occasions, Hinata recalls fondly.)
The two boys walk up the stairs and into the modest bedroom, where volleyball and dinosaur paraphernalia line the walls and the shelves. Hinata is steered to the bed in a fluid practiced motion and it doesn’t take long for the two of them to be tangled up against one another, happy enough to be breathing in each other’s presence.
Hinata’s jacket lies on the desk chair next to Tsukishima’s bed, and Hinata can’t get the thought of it out of his mind even as his boyfriend idly kisses his cheek and neck; grip tight on Hinata’s waist and eyelashes soft against his jaw. Hinata sighs and his eyes wander over the bed.
“Hey wait,” he says, not making a move to pull away from Tsukishima, “where’s Kookie?”
Tsukishima blinks lazily and sits up. He rummages under his pillows for a moment, and then in the little space between his bed and his desk, and eventually procures the little brachiosaurus (as Tsukishima insisted he be referred to as) toy that Hinata had bought him. Hinata giggles and kisses it lightly, holding it against his chest.
“I see how it is,” Tsukishima says, rolling his eyes once more. His smile betrays fondness and it gives Hinata something akin to hope.
He pulls Tsukishima closer by the waist and leaves trails of kisses all over his face, moving down to his collarbone and nuzzling the space between his shoulder and his neck.
“Thank you, for the gift,” Tsukishima breathes out softly, moving to kiss the tip of Hinata’s ear, “I didn’t think you’d spend so much time trying to get something for me.”
Hinata takes a turn to roll his eyes. Of course it was for him! Why else would Hinata spend all that time at the arcade playing for tickets when everyone knows he’d rather play fighting games with Kageyama? He’s seen the little dinosaur hair clip set and known it was meant to be.
“You’re really silly at times, you know,” Hinata says, pulling away to brush the hair that had grown to nearly fall into Tsukishima’s eyes to the side. He kisses his lips gently, just a little warm pressure, “I thought you didn’t want it, or that you’d throw it out or something...”
Tsukishima kisses him back, “I keep everything you give me, moron.”
That makes the ache in Hinata’s chest feel a little less scary, replaced with a warmth that can only be gained by eating ice cream in the winter. By kissing Tsukishima on his bed.
“You’re really mean.”
Tsukishima scoffs, “I didn’t even do anything this time.”
Hinata hugs him close, “maybe. I still think you’re mean. Sweet, but mean,” he bites his lips, “I wish you’d, I mean I want... I want-“ He trails off, cheeks red and mumbling.
“You want? Want what? Speak.”
“Grgh- I wrote it down, wait,” Hinata leans over Tsukishima and grabs his jacket, fiddling with the pockets until he finds the piece of paper.
Tsukishima eyes him with a quirked eyebrow but unfolds the little paper anyway, eyes roaming over the hasty chicken-scratched pencil strokes.
“Am I supposed to be able to read this?”
“Yes! Meanie! Just try and read it-“
“Fine.”
Hinata bites his lip, tries to recall what it was he‘d wrote on his ‘list of Demands’, as he’d called it;
One: ‘Acknowledge when I do things!’
The ‘for you’ went unspoken, but Hinata had hoped it would come across just fine. Then again, ‘things’ can be anything from gifts to any of the stupid stuff Hinata gets upto-
Two: ‘Let me talk about my own stuff!’
No matter how stupid, no matter how out there. Sure his thoughts were generally plagued with volleyball but sometimes he just wishes he could talk about the new Kuroko no Basket chapter, or the weird cat across the street. And though Tsukishima does often let him, it’s less common when Hinata talks about things he works hard on on his own-
Three: ‘Tell me if I’ve done a good job!’
On anything. On a good block, on a good receive, on a good answer to a practice test or a homework he’s managed to even half complete. On kisses and gifts and making Tsukishima smile-
Four: ‘Repeat things so I don’t forget! Especially nice things!!”
Its not that he never gets compliments- Tsukishima will give praise more often than one would expect- but the fact of the matter is that Hinata is not built for one time statements. He needs to be reminded of fundamental truths lest they leave him forever, and he knows Tsukishima gets it because Hinata does the same for him! After all-
Five: ‘As a rule of thumb; if it’d make you happy if I did it, chances are it’d make me happy for you to do it too!’
Hinata fiddles with the hem of Tsukishima’s sweater, face red and deep set with worry. He looks up through his eyelashes when he hears Tsukishima sigh.
“Is this why you’ve been off all day?” He asks, waving the list around in the air.
“...Maybe,” Hinata mumbles.
“And these are all your demands?”
Hinata huffs, “yes.”
“Okay.”
Hinata blinks up at him, “okay?”
“Consider them done,” Tsukishima says matter of factly, putting the list into his pocket.
“Really??” Hinata brightens up considerably, his hands bunch up into Tsukishima’s sweater and he brings his face right upto his boyfriend’s.
Tsukishima clears his throat, and he’s suddenly all red, “yeah. We could get number two on the way right now if you want.”
“Which one’s that?”
“The one where you talk about things you like,” Tsukishima trails off and looks to the side, “unless...”
“Unless what?” Hinata asks, moving onto Tsukishima’s lap, subconsciously pressing their bodies closer.
Tsukishima clears his throat again, and his face looks like it’s burning and Hinata wants to touch it so bad-
“Unless you kiss me so I can get to the rest of them first.”
Hinata’s eyes widen.
“It’ll be easy enough to acknowledge you kissing me, and I’ll be able to praise you for it after,” Tsukishima bites his lips, “and I do... like it, when you do it. I like it when you kiss me. I’ve told you that before but I’m telling you again. And-“ he takes a deep breath, steadying himself by placing both of his hands- his warm big calloused hands- on Hinata’s waist; the sports tape tickling Hinata’s sides, “I like it when I kiss you, so chances are you’ll like kissing me too.”
Hinata opens his mouth to speak, but Tsukishima tangles his fingers in Hinata’s hair; palm resting against his cheek and thumb keeping his lips quiet.
“And I’ll kiss you too, don’t worry idiot,” Tsukishima whispers, and his voice is oh so very fond
Hinata smiles, and Tsukishima does too.
(And maybe love is being brave enough to say when something’s bothering him. Maybe it’s the way Tsukishima’s mouth tastes so foreign against Hinata’s tongue. Maybe it’s soothing the aching in his heart with the warmth he only feels when eating ice cream in the winter.)
Maybe love is a list of demands, and keeping to all of them.
—
Hinata has been on edge all day.
“Oi, shrimpy.”
“Ack-! What do you want Stingyshima?!”
Tsukishima pauses.
“That was a nice block then.”
“...!”
“H-hey now don’t give me that look.”
Hurried footsteps, and then a jump.
“Tsukishimaaa!! You really do care about me!”
“Hinata, Hinata let GO-!”
Screams, shouts, laughter.
Practice is nearly over,
(and there’s nothing but warmth in Hinata’s chest.)