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Osamu had his first taste of homemade ice pops one sticky summer day at the beach. He remembers the wet sand in his hair, the water-logged swim trunks clinging to his thighs, the heat of the midday sun beating down his back. The way it was all so uncomfortable (even though he'd presumably enjoyed spending the entire morning playing with Atsumu on the beach) until his mother opened up the cooler to take out the ice pops she'd made the night before, and Osamu had taken his first soothing lick.
Suna's mouth tastes like sweet watermelon, sticky-sweet and cool against Osamu's lips. He twists his fingers near the hem of Osamu's shirt, the hold loose at first until Osamu opens his mouth, rolling his tongue against Suna's lower lip, catching the heat of Suna's tongue in return. Then Suna's grip on his shirt tightens, and Suna tugs him closer.
Like there's anywhere else Osamu could go.
His palm lands somewhere on Suna's bicep, the thin shirtsleeve he found there damp with sweat. It's something to hold onto, because he's not sure how long he has before his knees give out. Suna comes close to making that happen with a swipe of his tongue against Osamu's own, but the sound that slips out of his throat is even more embarrassing.
"Liked that, huh?" Suna asks, and his mouth only curls up slightly but his eyes light up with glee.
"Shut up," Osamu mutters, but he can feel the heat on his cheeks, knows Suna knows it's got nothing to do with summer. "What was—"
"Thanks for the ice pop," is Suna's reply. His grin is easy, bright against his pale face.
Osamu can't tell if his lips are red from the kiss or the ice pop. He tears his gaze up when he realizes he's staring, but the amused quirk of an eyebrow he receives tells him he's caught, anyway. "That's a hell of a thank you," he says. "What would ya do for a real favor?"
"I wonder that sometimes too," Suna hums, smiling at Osamu like they share a secret. Maybe they do now. He grabs a couple of sodas from the fridge before sauntering back outside.
"'Samu!" Atsumu calls out. "Where are the rest of the drinks?"
"Quit yer yappin', I'm on my way!" Osamu grouses. He takes a swig of bottled water, but it doesn't wash the taste of Suna away.
One of the first big fights Osamu had with Atsumu was over ice pops.
They were eleven and bored, left home alone to entertain themselves. It was Atsumu's idea to make the ice pops, but Osamu who actually took the blender out, cut the watermelon in pieces, and did all the work. So when Atsumu insisted on taking the flawless ice pop instead of the one that left a chunk of it behind in the mold, Osamu told him where he could stuff it.
At the end of the ensuing scuffle Osamu's ice pop was a splatter on the ground, and suddenly Atsumu didn't care that his was less than perfect anymore.
"Are ya kiddin' me?" They are seventeen and sweaty now, and Osamu hisses at Atsumu when the rest of the team have wandered back outside. "There were supposed to be enough here."
Atsumu shrugs. "Mom must've taken one of 'em," he says, eyes locked on Osamu's as he licks a wide, territorial stripe up his ice pop. "Think there's enough fruits in the fridge for another one if ya want."
"Ugh, you're the worst," Osamu informs him, rolling his eyes and taking a bottle of Ramune instead. He unscrews the cap and takes a disgruntled sip out of it.
"I'm getting off easier these days," Atsumu says. "Ya ain't gonna ignore me for a week now?"
"Piss off," Osamu mutters, shoving at him with his shoulder as they head out to the backyard. He sits on the step by the door, glaring sharply at Atsumu who ignores him, ambling over to Kosaku and Gin.
"Oh, there was Ramune?" Suna says, taking the seat next to him.
"Hm? Yeah, I—"
"Trade ya?" Suna holds up his ice pop. The corner of it has been nibbled at, and the weather already has it melting a little. Osamu watches a drop of watermelon red slide down the stick, falling down Suna's slender fingers. When Suna sees where he's looking, he adds, voice low and teasing, "Ya don't mind, right?"
"I already drank from it," Osamu says, meeting Suna's gaze evenly.
Suna's the first to break, a crooked smile cracking his face. "That's fine," he says, plucking the bottle from Osamu's grasp and replacing it with his half-eaten ice pop. "I don't mind either."
Suna kissed him for the last time the summer after they left Inarizaki.
It was midway through August, and Osamu was home early after his first semester at university, missing Atsumu by days before he packed up to leave for the Black Jackals' training camp. Gin and Kosaku were still slaving away at their exams, but Suna was—
"Hiroshima, huh?" Osamu hummed, leaning back on the step and wiping the sweat from his forehead. The ice pop was melting faster than he could eat it, so he gave up and popped half of it in to suck on.
Beside him, Suna shrugged, examining his own ice pop and deciding the best approach was to bite it off straight up. He ignored the appalled look Osamu gave him, but not his question. "Training camp starts next week. They're not that decent of a team yet, so I think I'll make starter faster with their lineup. Unfortunately we can't all get scouted into stardom by the Black Jackals."
"Don't let him hear ya say that or it'll get to his head even more."
"Hasn't it already?" Suna asked, flicking his gaze at Osamu. They snickered, but without Atsumu around to hiss back it wasn't as fun. "How's university going?"
"S'alright. Some classes suck more'n others, but it's fine." It was different and a little overwhelming at first, but a semester was enough time to settle in, and to be honest— "I like it so far," he admitted. He wasn't sure he'd be able to tell Atsumu that, if Atsumu ever asked.
"I really thought you'd keep playing."
Osamu quirked an eyebrow. "Did you really?"
"No," Suna said, far too quick. "I hoped it, I guess."
"Why, Suna," Osamu said, the corner of his lips curling up to a teasing grin. "Is that your roundabout way of saying you'd miss me?"
Suna's lips covered his in answer, closemouthed and chaste and brief. The sweetness lingered after, on Osamu's lips and in the barely-there way Suna said, "I already do."
"Well that's no good," Osamu told him then. The last of his ice pop had melted completely by then, his hand sticky with it. But he reached out to twist his fingers in Suna's shirt all the same, tugging him close to slot their mouths together, maybe chase the last of the summer with that kiss.
There were red streaks on Suna's shirt when Osamu let go, fainter than the red that bloomed in his cheeks and the red that stained his lips. Red would have been a better look on him than Raijin green. "At least wait to miss me until after ya leave."
It's Atsumu's idea to go to the beach while he's got a break from the team and while Onigiri Miya is closed, but it's Osamu who putters around his kitchen the evening before, filling out the bentos with onigiri and yakisoba and grilled squid, blending up a couple of different fruits for ice pops to freeze overnight. He gets up early the next day to fill up the cooler with ice and drinks and food, texting Atsumu a reminder to pack up the umbrella and blankets before he picks him up.
They arrive just before the mid-morning crowds hit, finding a good spot with an open court they can play at. Because of course Atsumu manages to bring a volleyball, even though he remembers halfway through the drive he'd left the sunscreen behind.
"You're absolutely useless," Osamu grumbles before letting Atsumu know he'd actually packed backups for everything Atsumu was in charge of bringing.
"If I were, then ya wouldn't even be here."
"And that's my loss how?" Osamu asks before Atsumu ignores him in favor of answering his phone.
"Yeah, yeah, we're here, we've got a spot. Right by the nets near the middle—I see ya! Over here!"
"'Tsumu," Osamu says, squinting at the distance.
"Yeah, 'Samu?"
"Why didn't ya tell me ya were getting the guys back together?"
"Didn't I?" Atsumu asks, his smile beatific. "I did tell ya to make lots of food, yeah?"
"I thought that was for us," Osamu mutters, raising his hand to wave at Aran, Gin, and Kosaku. Aran has a cooler with him too, and Osamu sighs with some relief. Maybe they'd be okay for food after all. "Is anybody else coming?"
"Akagi's runnin' late, and Kita-san said he'd try to make it," Atsumu says, and then like the little shit he is, he glances sideways at Osamu, smirk sly. "Why? Anyone else in particular ya were hopin' to see?"
"You're a dick," Osamu chirps back before he goes off to help Aran set up the blankets next to theirs.
The water is still cold when they're done, so Atsumu drags the others into a quick game of beach volleyball while they wait for the sun to rise higher. Osamu waves them off, tired from the late night and early morning, and decides to take a quick nap in the sun while they play.
"I dunno when he became such an old man," Osamu catches Atsumu telling Kosaku, shortly before he drifts away.
There's sand on his skin and sea spray in his hair, the sun too hot and his back sticking uncomfortably to the blanket, when Osamu wakes up. He chest feels tender and a little roasted, and he groans, because he should've asked somebody to wake him up within the hour.
"Yeah, that's probably a sunburn."
Osamu pops open an eye. Suna's peering over him, the silhouette of his head blocking out the sun. He can make out his smile. "When did ya get here?"
"Mm, half an hour ago, maybe?"
Osamu sits up with a grumble, scratching the back of his head as he looks down at his chest. Yeah, he burnt himself alright. That's gonna hurt tomorrow.
"S'dumb for you, 'Samu," Suna says, tossing a bottle of aloe vera at him. "Don't tell me Atsumu has the brain cell today?"
"Don't even joke about that. Thanks." Osamu pours a generous dollop out onto his palm, wincing only slightly as he works the aloe onto his skin. "Didn't know you were back in town."
"Mm."
"How long for?"
Suna rubs at the back of his neck, glancing down at the sand. "Well, I go to training camp Friday next week."
That's sooner than he would have liked. "Yeah?"
"With Aran." Suna glances over, and Osamu isn't sure why he seems almost nervous, before he realizes what he's just said doesn't make sense either. Aran? But he's— "They're announcing it officially before camp starts," Suna continues. "I'm transferring to the Red Falcons starting this coming season."
"Oh," Osamu says, the last pieces slotting into place. "So you'll be back, back."
"Yeah," Suna says, his gaze darting out to the sea, where the rest of the guys have been. "He didn't tell you, huh?"
"Ya didn't tell me."
"Well, I—what do ya think I'm doing now?" Suna huffs, but around the furrow of his brow Osamu catches a halo of amusement, a tug of relief.
"That's a lousy way to break that kinda news, Suna," Osamu says, but he grins. "We gotta throw ya a party or something."
"Please don't. This—whatever we're all doing now—is fine," Suna tells him, matching Osamu's grin with a cheeky one of his own.
"Alright, if ya insist," Osamu says. "Hey, Suna?"
"Yeah, 'Samu?"
"Ya want an ice pop or something?"