Work Text:
good intentions paving company
_
all the way to the thing we've been playing at, darlin'
i can see that you're wearing your staying hat, darlin'
for the time being all is well
won't you love me a spell?
_
Sawamura Daichi has plans for this Saturday date with his best friend/teammate/possible love of his life Sugawara Koushi. Big plans. A train trip to Tokyo, a nice lunch, and two tickets to see the Japanese national men’s volleyball team take on the visiting German team, all paid for with the money he saved from his birthday and meager earnings from his brief part-time stint at the sporting goods store down the road. He does his research -- the local route from Miyagi Prefecture to Tokyo that leaves at ten in the morning should take at most three hours, which would allow them a lunch stop at the highest rated restaurant with spicy mapo tofu that Daichi could find with a Google search. Then they would head to the stadium just a few blocks down the street around 2:30, which would give them time to claim decent seats before the start of the first set, slated for 3:00 on the dot. Daichi’s even accounted for the extra time they might have to kill before the 7:00 train back home, should the game end after only two sets, having located an adorable looking crepe shop down the street.
He’s got it all worked out, and he hasn’t mentioned a word of it to said best friend/teammate/possible love of his life. Daichi wants it to be a surprise. The kind of extra-awesome surprise that spurs his vice captain to throw his arms around his neck and kiss him full on the mouth. Coach Ukai had given their team a speech once about success visualization -- imagining the best possible course of events in a point before the serve is even hit. Despite that his coach had been mostly speaking to Yamaguchi at the time, Daichi takes it to heart. He feels euphorically optimistic about the day.
But his euphoric optimism shatters about an hour the trip when the bullet train halts and the conductor’s voice echoes through the cars of the train. “I’m sorry to inform you that we’ve run into some technical problems with the engine. We’re awaiting assistance, and we cannot continue to our destination until the issue is resolved. We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience caused by this delay.”
There's worry etched in Suga's deep, chocolate brown eyes -- and Daichi has to be so careful about those eyes, so often he looks into them and waxes humiliatingly poetic; it’s like a trap.
“Do you think we’ll be stuck here long?” his date wonders, fingers playing at the fringe of a blue plaid scarf.
His last drop of his depleted optimism says “I’m sure it won’t be bad,” as his gut tells him, “This seat has no leg room. By the way, we are totally fucked.”
_
“It could be worse!” Suga says, smiling despite the inescapable reality that they’ve been in the godforsaken, stationary locomotive for nearly an hour. “Something really awful could have happened. Like a collision! Or a derailment! And we should take the time to fully appreciate how wonderful life can be in a train car free of screaming children.”
“Knock on wood,” Daichi reminds him.
“Knock on wood,” Suga agrees.
Daichi slumps in his seat, resting his knees against the tray table on the seat in front of him. The position raises the collar of his Karasuno VC sweatshirt over the jut of his cheekbone, which he’s almost glad for, because it hides the frustration he’s certain shows on his face. He’s never been a tough man to decode, and he knows from plenty of experience that Suga is especially gifted at interpreting his expressions.
He checks the clock on his phone, figuring that if the train starts up again in the next thirty minutes, they can still make the game. But his lunch plans have been crushed, and he feels a pang of guilt for forgetting to call and cancel his reservation.
“Want to play a game?” Suga asks, poking his shoulder.
“Okay,” Daichi says.
“Alright then. We’ll play I-Spy, and I’ll start.”
“Go ahead.”
Suga rubs at his chin in mock contemplation. “I spy with my little eye someone in a varsity jacket who is clearly overthinking everything. I’ll give you a hint. His name starts with an ‘S’ and ends with an ‘Awamura Daichi.’ Can you guess?”
Daichi snorts. “I have no clue who that is,” he says, “but he sounds like my kinda guy. I bet he’s decent at volleyball too. Is he tall?”
“Not terribly.”
“Oh?” Daichi teases. “Is he taller than you?”
Suga rolls his eyes. “That’s insignificant in the grand scheme of things.”
“Hmmm.”
“Do you need another clue?”
“It couldn’t hurt.”
“He’s pretty easy on the eyes,” Suga says, and Daichi observes the spread of pink along the curve of his cheek. “But he’d be better-looking if he’d relax a little.”
Daichi jolts back into an upright position, feeling a blush coming on that’s much more intense and embarrassing than he’s really comfortable revealing to his date, so he covers his face.
“Um,” he says, articulately.
An awkward quiet hangs over them for a while. Suga unwinds the scarf from around his neck, lets it fall into his lap, fiddles with it. Daichi twiddles his thumbs, feeling like an actor in the spotlight, ignorant of his lines. He knows what he wants, and that’s Suga, without a doubt. But there’s the whole problem of getting there. Words don’t come to him so well when his brain feels like it’s short-circuiting. Then again, if he can’t form a single coherent thought, he can’t possibly be overthinking, so all things considered, he’s improving.
After he stuffs his scarf into the elastic netted pocket under his tray table, Suga’s the one to break the silence.
“I don’t know what you had planned on this date,” he says, staring intently at his hands folded in his lap. “But whether it works out or not, I’m going to have a good time, so don’t worry about it. If you’re around, then I won’t get bored.”
Daichi glances at his date and nods. “Same for me.”
Suga bites his lip, which does weird, wonderful things to Daichi’s heart rate. He looks away quickly, partially because it’s rude to stare and partially because he’s not sure if he’s going into mild cardiac arrest or just embodying his inner shoujo manga protagonist.
He’s focused intently on the seat in front of him when his brain clicks back on and he nearly feels a light bulb flick on over his head.
“I spy with my little eye,” he says, grabbing the cafe car menu from the seat pocket, “a plan.”
_
Daichi and Suga walk two cars down the train to the cafe car. They have to wait in line briefly, before the conductor announces that the bar has run out of alcohol and much of the crowd disperses back to the neighboring passenger cars, grumbling. After that mass exodus, a few booths are left empty. Suga claims one, and Daichi goes up to the counter and orders lunch bentos.
Their lunches are rather plain, made of a large helping of rice, an assortment of pickled vegetables, strips of chicken and salmon (and, Daichi thinks bitterly, it’s nothing like spicy mapo tofu), but three hours into the delay and the pair are more than happy to have something to chow down on. Daichi grabs two pairs of chopsticks from the condiment bar; they give their thanks for the meal and dig in.
“So I’ve got this idea,” Daichi says between bites. “That if we can’t get to the date I had planned...well, maybe I could bring the date back to us.”
“A train date,” Suga says thoughtfully.
“I prefer to think of it as a date that happens to occur on board a broken down train,” Daichi clarifies. “Are you game?”
Suga sets down his empty lunch container, and Daichi swears the other boy sparkles, which in turn makes Daichi’s stomach wobble in a way that’s not nearly uncomfortable. “Lead the way, captain.”
_
Daichi can’t bring them to the game in person, but when he hooks his smartphone up to the questionable train wi-fi and finds a link to a video livestream, he feels lucky enough. His screen is a little too small, the video buffers every five minutes, and his arms go numb from holding the phone up enough that they can both see, but the way Suga’s soft hair tickles his face when his date rests his head on Daichi’s shoulder makes him never want to move, regardless of his protesting limbs.
It’s a nail biter in the second set when Germany produces three service aces in a row, but Team Japan still wins 2-0, nearly unstoppable with a quick set that reminds Daichi of Karasuno’s own freak duo, and Suga and Daichi high-five when Ushijima Wakatoshi’s spike smacks the wooden court to end the match.
It would’ve been an exciting match to see in person, Daichi muses, but a peek at Suga’s grinning face pulls him back into the reality that he wouldn’t have been watching the match anyway. Not with his full attention.
_
“I’ll be right back,” Suga says, after they’ve discussed the match for twenty minutes. Daichi assumes Suga’’s visiting the restroom, so he’s surprised when his vice captain returns a few minutes later with a pack of cards and three pieces of hard candy, covered in gold foil. Suga pops one of the candies into his mouth, hands one to Daichi, and sets the third on his lowered tray table.
“Thank you,” Daichi says.
“Up for another game?”
“Are we playing for the candy?” Daichi asks, examining the wrapper of the piece Suga’s already given him.
“It looks like it,” Suga says, a hint of mischief creeping into his tone, “But it’s all a ruse. You’re not going to beat me.”
“Won’t know that for sure until we play. Uh, what are we playing?”
“Egyptian ratscrew.”
_
The game reminds him of time spent after long practices at volleyball camps, passing the time between dinner and curfew. His friend Yui had taught him how to tell fortunes with all four of the Jacks in the deck face up. Name each of them after four people you could see yourself dating. Diamonds are money. Clubs are arguments. Spades are kids. Hearts are for love. The higher the number of the card, the more intense the meaning of the fortune.
He had tried it at the combined training camp his first year. It was okay. Yui knew he was gay, had since middle school, and he knew she didn’t give a damn, because when he told her in passing that ‘yes, I have a crush on someone in homeroom but don’t say a word, ‘cuz I don’t think he feels the same way’ before snapping a hand to his mouth, shocked that the words had left his mouth, she laughed and promised not to gossip, cross her heart and hope to die.
She slid the Jacks face up in front of his bruised knees, sore from a round of flying fall just an hour ago.
“You have four names?” she asked, and Daichi told her four. She passed out the rest of the cards face down, went down the line, and unveiled them all. When she got to the Jack of Spades, she smirked.
“You’re gonna have a lot of love with Sugawara-kun,” she said, revealing the ace, king, and queen of hearts. “But I don’t think I need cards to tell you that.”
It’s one of his favorite memories if he’s honest with himself, but reminiscing makes him feel a little annoyed with himself that he didn’t ask Suga out sooner.
_
True to his word, Suga cleans the floor with him at the card game (mostly because Daichi’s so flustered by it and it slows his reactions -- it’s ridiculous anyway, the way they’re practically holding hands on every play. what a suggestive game!) and pockets the candy with a malice-free toldja so. The stow their tray tables and lean back in their seats. Suga pulls his phone out of his pocket along with a pair of earbuds.
“You wanna share?”
Daichi puts the left bud in his ear and closes his eyes.
“Any song suggestions for your local DJ?”
Daichi shakes his head. “Just don’t make me think too hard.”
"I've got you covered."
Suga scrolls through his musical library, before selecting a song. Instrumental guitar melody. Nothing to ponder at all, and it makes Daichi almost laugh. Clever, his date is. At the height of the song, Suga shyly slides his hand under Daichi’s where its resting on the latter’s thigh, intertwines their fingers, rubbing soothing circles along the back of the captain’s hand.
_
The train is nearly empty when the conductor’s voice booms over the mic just past 5:30, thanking the remaining passengers for their patience and cooperation. Their own car is empty except for them, but they don’t budge from their seats. The train sways when it starts back up, but pushes forward, and soon enough they’re at full speed toward the city lights. Daichi thinks, just in time to catch another train. But his outlook is improved, maybe even optimistic, when the conductor announces they will refund the tickets of all remaining passengers.
Suga’s resting against him again, their hands still joined, but the pain in Daichi’s chest doesn’t feel like a palpitation so much as a flutter. He’s less worried about it now, more accepting of the twists and tingles his body manufactures whenever Suga squeezes his hand or he catches a whiff of the setter’s pleasantly subdued cologne.
Maybe he doesn’t have to wait for his vice captain’s first move, the way he imagines. Visualizing success, he imagines how he would do it, gently tilt Suga’s chin upward and meet it with a soft brush of his lips. Or would he be more assertive and less chaste about his approach? He thought back to movie and television, trying to recall the appropriate protocol. Did he ask permission first? Or was that too embarrassing, because by agreeing to the date, Suga expected him to make a move like this? Or would Suga be disgusted by it? After all, he didn’t know the other boy’s sexual orientation until la--
Suga silences him by pecking his lips, pulling back, and frowning. Daichi feels his brain exit out of the back of his head.
“What did I tell you about thinking so much?” he scolds, before leaning in for another kiss, and another.
His best friend/teammate/possible love of his life/(new boyfriend?) knows. Suga always knows.