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It's not that Hinata has anything against planes; he likes looking out the window, seeing everything so small beneath him, the sensation of when they first leave the runway sending sparks of excitement through him. He likes sitting next to strangers, sometimes making new friends and meeting interesting people. He doesn't fly often, but it's never really been a problem for him.
Except for one thing; Hinata hates sitting still.
Hinata's coming home from a trip abroad, packed into the plane and ready to go. It's a long flight, the worst kind, and even more upsetting is the fact that he thinks he is definitely, definitely not going to get along with his seatmate. He's tried, as always, to introduce himself, a chipper, “Hi, I'm Hinata!” and an offering of his hand. The stranger, tall and cranky-looking, just stares at him, at his hand, and then looks back out the window.
That's another thing; without the window seat, Hinata is going to have nothing to do. He's brought some magazines along, but they're already dog-eared with use, marked for his favorite pages and the recaps of the volleyball games he's been following. His carry-on doesn't have much in the way of entertainment; a game system his friend Kenma's given him, a volleyball, and that's about it. He can't really do anything with the volleyball; it's more for luck than anything.
They haven't even left the ground yet and Hinata's feeling antsy. Usually he pacifies himself chatting with his neighbor, talking about hobbies and common interests, but this guy seems very insistent on personal space, arms tucked tightly against his sides and hands curled in his lap. He's tall, even when sitting; his hair is dark and sleek and he'd probably be attractive if it weren't for that scowl contorting his features.
Hinata kicks his feet against the bag tucked under the seat in front of him, trying not to fidget too much because this is the third time he's had a glare shot at him from the boy sitting next to him. This is going to be torture, he's sure of it; maybe he'll be able to sleep, but he's not feeling tired at all. He hasn't been able to get as much of his energy out in the past few days as he's used to, and he's already feeling it in the buzzing of his muscles.
It seems like an eternity later when there's a noise, the ding of the “seatbelts on” sign lighting up and the noise of the planes engines roaring. He sits forward, alert, peering out the window over the hunched form of the person sitting next to him. He watches as the runway goes by, fast, fast, faster, and suppresses and excited noise when the wheels start to leave the ground, stuttering against the pavement.
There is a noise, though, and for a second Hinata thinks he's the one who has made it, but it sounds distinctly distressed for something coming from him. He sits back, and when he does, he immediately notices the person next to him, head bowed and eyes squeezed shut as he grips the armrests hard enough for his knuckles to whiten.
Hinata's aware that there are people out there who hate flying, who are terrified of planes, but he's never actually met one. He hadn't expected this grouchy-looking stranger to be one of those people, and he isn't quite sure what to do. Should he reassure him?
“Hey,” he says, hesitant. He watches the boy's shoulders get higher around his neck, and his fingers twitch against the armrest. Hinata bites his lip and thinks. Or he tries to, anyway, but he's never been one for heavy planning, much preferring just to go with whatever he thinks of first.
And the first thing he thinks of is nudging his hand against this stranger's, offering something to hold onto. He's fully expecting rejection, maybe even physical harm, and he's about ready to leap out of his seat in case anything happens when he watches the hand next to him start to move. Suddenly, though, it's gripping his tightly, fingers fitting into the spaces between Hinata's.
He watches, fascinated, at the way their hands line up, fingers small compared to these long ones. They're surprisingly warm, a little rough but otherwise not as rigid as he'd imagined. This is the first time Hinata's held hands with someone like this, fingers laced, and he resists the urge to wiggle his own in case he ruins whatever he's helping with here.
As soon as they're safely in the air, smoothed out, he watches the stranger's fingers slide out of his, land back in his lap like nothing had happened. He straightens his shoulders and tosses his hair, although the flush on his cheeks lets Hinata know he's well aware of what's been happening.
“Kageyama,” he says, suddenly, and Hinata almost asks what he's talking about until he realizes the boy is introducing himself. “Kageyama Tobio.”
His voice is gruff, warm with embarrassment and rough where he's trying to hide it. Hinata feel warmth spready through his entire body and he grins brightly. Maybe this trip won't be so bad after all.
Xxx
It's bad.
It's an hour into their flight and he's restless, legs itching to move. He gets up when it's safe, takes a trip to the bathroom, even though he doesn't really have to pee. He just wants to walk. When he gets back to the seat, though, plops down next to the boy known as Kageyama, he notices his face has gone pale and he's staring straight ahead of him.
“Are you okay?” he asks, but it looks like Kageyama isn't really hearing him. He nudges his shoulder, gently, watches as Kageyama jumps and looks over to him.
“Fine,” says Kageyama, but the tightness in his voice says otherwise. “I hate flying.”
“I figured as much.” Hinata snorts, and the way Kageyama glares at him starts a little flutter of excitement in his chest. “Do you want to hold my hand again?”
Kageyama's glare deepens and he yanks his hand away like Hinata's about to assault it, but he looks distinctly less nervous. Hinata figures distraction is good for this guy, and he needs it himself, so he sits up in his seat.
“How old are you?” he starts with, one of the common questions he usually asks if they look similar in age. “I'm fifteen.”
“Same.” Hinata doesn't know if Kageyama is normally this short, or if it's nerves, so he continues, hoping to draw more out of him.
“I'm coming home from playing volleyball abroad,” he starts. The look on Kageyama's face, the way his eyes light up and he seems to open sends a current through Hinata's whole body and he tries not to smile too hard.
“Me too.” Kageyama glances away, like he's embarrassed at having been so expressive. “I've been playing since middle school.”
“Me too!” Hinata's voice is too loud and a few people look at them, so he lowers it to a hush, leaning in. “It's probably my favorite thing in the world,” he says, conspiratorially. “I have some magazines with me if you wanna look at them together. Who are your favorite players?”
They end up poring over magazines, although Kageyama says he's already read them; it's different looking at it with someone as passionate as he is, Hinata finds out, as Kageyama's long fingers point out things as he's talking. Hinata watches, noticing the calluses that mirror his own, eyes falling to Kageyama's legs and wondering what they look like under his jeans.
He learns Kageyama wants to be a setter, and puffs his cheeks when Kageyama makes fun of his dream of being an ace. “You're too short,” he says, scoffing, and Hinata jumps up to display his full height. He tries to jump, to show how high he can go, and then Kageyama's yanking him by the arm back to his seat before someone calls the stewardess to complain.
Kageyama is considerably more relaxed, face almost looking pleasant (almost) when they end up falling silent, shoulders pressed together comfortably. They've raised the armrest between them to give them more room to look at magazines, and Hinata's feeling a little jittery again when he feels something on his shoulder.
When he glances over, Kageyama's head has dropped down, resting against Hinata. He smells nice, Hinata notices absently, like soap, but a nice kind of soap. His hair is soft and silky against Hinata's neck, and the way his breath puffs out of his parted lips has Hinata bouncing one of his legs, although he's not quite sure what sort of discomfort he's feeling because this is kind of nice. He's only had one person fall asleep on him before, an elderly woman, and this is definitely nothing like that. He dips his head, just a little, resting it against the top of Kageyama's.
He's warm, and cozy, and he thinks he can maybe sit still if it's like this.
Xxx
Hinata's woken with a start a few hours later when they hit turbulence.
Normally, he would go back to sleep, shrug it off, because he's very good about being woken up with a little sister at home. Now, however, he's aware of a lack of warmth on his shoulder and sits up to see Kageyama sitting rigid in his seat, head dropped and staring at the floor.
“Kageyama?” His voice sounds kind of sleepy, and he clears his throat. “Hey, what's up?”
Kageyama doesn't say anything, just shakes his head. They hit another patch of rough air, and suddenly Kageyama's hand is clutching Hinata's sleeve, his breath is heavy in his throat and Hinata sees his shoulders shaking.
He looks miserable, and Hinata feels bad that he'd fallen asleep and left him like this, although to be fair, he had been alright earlier. Softly, Hinata touches Kageyama's hand, and when he doesn't move, forcefully uncurls his fingers from his shirt. Kageyama stays still, head bowed, chest rising and falling a little too quickly, while Hinata tries to smooth out his hand, patting the fingers down. He rests it against his lap and watches as Kageyama uncurls his fingers enough to allow Hinata's to slip between them again, curls them back up when they're fitted together and squeezes.
“It's okay,” Hinata says, squeezing back. “If we crash, I'll give you mouth-to-mouth to resuscitate you.”
There's a laugh from next to him, and Hinata thinks at first he's imagining it, but no, Kageyama's shoulders shake just a little. It sounds kind of panicked, but it's better than nothing. With his free hand, Hinata reaches over for Kageyama's shoulder, pushes gently but firmly until he straightens back against the seat.
Hinata has never been scared of flying, even when he was little, but there are things that make him nervous. He doesn't know if it's the same for Kageyama, even though they both play volleyball, but he tries it anyway. “Breathe like before a game,” he says, and watches Kageyama's hand twitch in his. He doesn't know if it's worked, but then he hears Kageyama take a deep breathe, let it out, and watches his shoulders slightly relax.
He grins, and when Kageyama's eyes meet his, he glances away too quickly for Hinata to be sure, but he thinks he sees a ghost of a smile there. His heartbeat spikes and he grins wider.
Xxx
Kageyama doesn't not let go of his hand. His grip loosens, but his fingers remain warm between Hinata's, and Hinata can't say he minds at all. It feels like they've known each other forever, Kageyama weakly teasing him about small things, like when Hinata admits he doesn't get great grades (he gets Kageyama to reluctantly admit the same), or when he talks about having cried on a rollercoaster when he was nine.
“To be fair,” Hinata says, “I was really short and I swear I was about to fall out.”
“You're still short.” Kageyama tilts his head, and Hinata sees a faint trace of cockiness. He can't even be annoyed, because Kageyama's taking his breathing advice every time they hit a rough spot in flight.
Hinata almost forgets how restless he is, busy distracting Kageyama from looking out the window and seeing how high up they are. He does, once, and it's not pretty; Hinata ends up having to hold both his hands, tell him they're not going to fall, jeez, calm down, telling him about what a pain his little sister is. He feels like he's practically recounted his entire life to Kageyama, like they've known each other for much longer than this flight.
Kageyama's head ends up against his shoulder again, but this time neither of them are sleeping; Hinata listens to his breathing, sits as still as possible, ignores that they're going to have to say goodbye when they land. This is the most fun he's had on a flight, albeit the most he's been insulted for how short he is, and the first person he's met who is as interested in talking about volleyball as he is.
“Too bad we can't play together sometime,” he says, during a lull in conversation, Kageyama's soap-scent floating between them.
“Maybe we can,” Kageyama says back.
Xxx
The flight is over surprisingly quickly, and Hinata prepares himself to say goodbye to his new friend, to allow his hand to be released, wonders if he should shake it or hug him. He prefers hugs, but he's not sure if Kageyama does. He doesn't look like someone who would; or rather, he looks like someone who would pretend he doesn't.
Kageyama doesn't let go of his hand.
He grips it tight through the landing, face buried against Hinata's shoulder as Hinata fights down the flush on his face. Kageyama gets both their bags down for them so that Hinata doesn't have to reach up high, one-handed, still holding tightly onto Hinata's. They leave the plane, and Hinata notices the looks they're getting, more color flooding to his cheeks. We're not together, he wants to say, we just met, but he doesn't. Kageyama, for his part, either doesn't notice or doesn't care. Hinata wonders if he's gotten the wrong idea, if he maybe is one of those guys, the ones who like other guys, wonders if he should remove his hand. Somehow, he still doesn't want to.
Finally, when they reach the gate where they'll part ways, Kageyama lets go of his hand. It feels sort of depressingly empty. Now that they're on the ground, Hinata can see Kageyama's imposing personality return, walking with his back straight and shoulders squared. He turns, fixes Hinata with his sharp eyes.
“Thanks, I guess,” he says, looking off to the side. Hinata smiles warmly, holds out his hand to shake, because he's decided that's a better course of action than a hug.
Kageyama stares at it, like he had when they'd first met on the plane, which actually hadn't been that long ago. He's about to drop his hand, feeling silly because what does this kid really know about him, anyway?
Suddenly, Kageyama's hand is back in his, but instead of a handshake, Hinata's being pulled close, close, closer, Kageyama's breath warm against his face, breathing much more even than it had been on flight. And then, a split second after Hinata notices what nice eyes he has, their lips are smushed together, warm and really, really nice.
This is Hinata's first kiss, and it's in an airport with a stranger. Both romantic, maybe, but also kind of weird. Also, it's with a boy.
Hinata doesn't care.
He kisses back, as much as he can, because he feels heat thrumming through his veins and Kageyama's hand warm in his and then he's pulling back, face flushed, and Hinata thinks his must be, too. There are people looking at them, but he doesn't care. Kageyama coughs into his hand, the one not still holding onto Hinata's, nods his head, and then he pulls away and walks quickly in the opposite direction.
Is that it? Hinata feels kind of hollow. His first kiss, and he's never going to see this guy again, never going to be able to talk to him about volleyball or tease him for how scared he was on the plane, since it's fair game now that they're on the ground. He tightens his fingers and then, for the first time, notices something crinkle in his hand.
When he opens it, Hinata notices a scrap of paper, ripped out of a notebook with numbers scrawled across it in messy handwriting. His heart beats in his throat as he dials the number, waits, half expecting it to be fake, or something, but then why would he go through the trouble of doing this.
Someone picks up, and Hinata holds his breath before letting it out in a long exhale. “Kageyama?”
“You didn't even wait five minutes, dumbass,” says the gruff voice on the other end.
Hinata hops, jumps high right in the middle of the crowd of people, feeling warm and excited and like he could run a mile. He doesn't know what to say, so instead he just laughs, high and relieved, and listens to Kageyama's rough, warm voice on the other end, berating him for acting like an idiot in the middle of a crowd of people.
“Were you watching me?” Hinata asks, suddenly, able to hear the smugness in his own voice as Kageyama sputters on the other end.
He thinks it's the beginning of a pretty good friend(?)ship.