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Kageyama has beautiful hands.
Hinata knows it's weird to think of another boy's hands as beautiful, especially someone so abrasive and powerful as Kageyama, who uses his hands to send tosses flying, slam his palm into the hard plastic of the ball, catch himself when he falls missing a receive.
They are, though, and Hinata's had plenty of time to think about this.
Hinata's never really paid attention to people's hands, before. He's never done a lot of things before Kageyama. Now he's hyper aware of what the other boy is doing, watching him flip a page of a textbook, cradle a pen in his fingers, jot notes down on a page. He watches when Kageyama grips his water bottle, when he adjusts the waistband of his shorts or tugs at his collar to get fresh air against his overheated skin. He pays extra attention when Kageyama's hand falls on his shoulder, fist knocks against his knee, fingers tighten in his hair.
Kageyama's hands are formidable. They're strong, really strong, strong enough to bruise Hinata's skin when they get into fights, when Kageyama's hands tighten around Hinata's wrist. He apologizes later, fingers smooth against the bruises, when Hinata points to the bruise on Kageyama's shin where he'd kicked him earlier, and then they're snorting at each other, because they're both dumb and they know it.
His palms are callused, but it feels good against Hinata's skin, rough. Hinata can tell how hard he works, likes to trace his fingers over the tough parts of his hand, smoothing across the lines and saying Kageyama's got the worst fortune he could ever ever see, except this one line which says he's got the best partner (friend? Something else?) that he could ever ever have and Kageyama rolls his eyes but doesn't snatch his hand away.
When they hold hands (sometimes) (more often than Kageyama will admit), Hinata relishes the feeling of Kageyama's long, slender fingers sliding between his own, grip tights but not too tight, like it's anchoring Hinata there and reminding him that they are together and they are amazing. Hinata swings their hands together, focusing on the weight, on the heat of Kageyama's hand against his own. Even in the summer, when they get too sweaty to really need to hold hands, he only lets go when he has to, when they part ways to go home.
Lately, Hinata's learned something else, that Kageyama's hands are surprisingly gentle when he wants them to be, or when he isn't paying attention enough to hide it. They've probably been like this for a while, Hinata thinks, recalling a time when he'd hit his head against the floor and Kageyama's fingers had been soft and smooth against his skin, checking for bumps, patting him a bit more harshly but still gentle when he'd called him clear.
Sometimes Kageyama will rest a hand on Hinata's back, whether intentional or unintentional, and Hinata can't help but focus on the warm weight, concentrate on mapping out every one of his fingers splayed against the fabric of his shirt. He thinks about Kageyama's hand against his cheek, wiping off a grain of stray rice (Hinata is a messy eater, but he's gotten messier, lately). When he falls down, Kageyama is the first to check for bruises, skimming his fingertips against the skin, pressing down and asking if it hurts, and Hinata tilts his head and says he isn't sure, can you go over it again? Kageyama scowls knowingly but complies. He always does.
They sleep together, sometimes, Kageyama's hands between them, and he allows Hinata to grasp one, flexing his fingers while Hinata watches, because he knows this weird thing about Hinata and accepts it. Hinata presses his fingers into the tendons and muscles and watches at Kageyama's eyes close and he works out the stress of their practice sessions, and thinks about how nobody's ever touched Kageyama like this, and is glad that Kageyama's falling asleep because his cheeks are getting warm. When they wake up, Hinata glances down at their hands, still close, walks his fingers over to Kageyama's and twists them together, and Kageyama groans and tells him to go back to sleep, flipping his palm over and allowing Hinata's hand to settle in.
And then sometimes, sometimes, when they are alone, Kageyama's hands are very sinful, amazing, and Hinata loves them. He always loves them, really, but he loves them even more when they're skimming along the skin of his chest, over his embarrassingly sensitive nipples that he keeps telling Kageyama to leave alone, jeez, gripping his hips with the strength of an amazing server, and rubbing circles into the skin with his thumbs. Kageyama's hands on him are gentle and firm all at once, hot and cool and they make Hinata come undone more quickly than he would care to admit. His hands are always enough to get Hinata excited, gentle touches down his back, on his sides, like he knows and takes full advantage of what it does when he presses his palm against Hinata's crotch, obvious, and Hinata's eyes flick down to the fingers against him.
They spread him open, sometimes, one, two, three fingers, and Hinata could honestly just get off with that, Kageyama's long fingers inside him, hitting him just right, finally, after countless bouts of practice. Kageyama's other hand is always somewhere on him, his hip or his stomach or his thigh, comforting and smooth and warm, the way it had been the first time they'd done it, nervous and slow, and Hinata wants to kiss him, so he does. He does, and then he catches Kageyama's free hand, brings it to his mouth, kissing it too, and the embarrassed frown that crosses Kageyama's face is priceless, he can't help laughing.
Kageyama always gets flustered when his hands get anywhere near Hinata's mouth. Hinata loves to take advantage of that, licking his palm when Kageyama's pressed his hand against his mouth to shut him up, biting his finger when Kageyama's gone to wipe something off Hinata's face, rubbing his cheek against Kageyama's knuckles when they're alone together, studying, and Kageyama pretends to be engrossed in his book and ignores the color creeping over his ears.
Hinata thinks he might be weird, being this preoccupied with Kageyama's hands, but he's seen them do amazing things, amazing serves, amazing recieves, has seen them bruised and the one time Kageyama breaks a finger and has to sit out for a week, Hinata refuses to let go of his hand in case he tries to do anything stupid with it. They both know that's a cover, but neither of them say anything, despite the few joking catcalls from the team that make Kageyama hunch his shoulders and try to hide like he's a turtle. Hinata just sticks his tongue out, because everyone knows this by now, that he does this and that Kageyama lets him.
He has even let Hinata paint his nails before, midnight blue, although the paint gets all over the skin and Hinata's own hands. Kageyama doesn't even take it off for school the next day, staring down anyone who looks at him weird, everyone assuming maybe he's got a weird girlfriend or a kid cousin or something, but every time Hinata sees the color on his nails he feels something swell in his chest. It chips off soon enough, worn down by rigorous use and Hinata absently picking at the spots where it's begun to peel.
So yeah, Kageyama has beautiful hands, and Hinata freely tells him this, despite the fact that every time he does he finds Kageyama's hand in his hair, against his scalp, shaking him; every time, his fingers relax, slowly, and then he's just standing with Hinata's hair under his hand and Hinata grins up at him, knowingly, and then Kageyama scowls and ruffles his hair, hard, before snatching his hand away.
But he always comes back, later, petting the hair down on Hinata's head while he comments what a mess it is, Hinata sprawled over his legs and flipping through a magazine or test notes, leaning into the touch. Hinata knows it's kind of weird, to be this entranced by someone's hands, Kageyama's hands, hard and awkard Kageyama, but he doesn't care about anyone else's, to be honest. Only the hands that toss to him, the hands that sting against his own when they high-five, the hands that grip his shoulders and tell him that as long as they're together, they'll be invincible.