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Koushi is fine. Koushi is very fine. There’s a hand in the pocket of his jeans belonging to a setter who’s been featured on not one, not two, but five sports magazines, right there in the middle of grocery aisle number 2, and Koushi is not having what Daichi would call a “gay crisis”. He's long past that point.
So Koushi might be having a crisis of a different kind, but, he thinks, most everyone would be entitled to a crisis in the grocery store when their boyfriend of one whole year is bringing them home for Christmas. To meet his parents.
“Oh, my god,” Tooru breathes.
Oh, my god, indeed.
“What the fuck is Miya Atsumu doing in a grocery store in Miyagi.”
What the fuck is— Koushi follows his line of sight, and does a double take. Sure enough, there’s a distinctly bleached blond head of hair at the yoghurt drinks. Koushi doubts there’s that many people in Japan who dye their hair that violent a shade of yellow and also possess a worn Inarizaki Volleyball jacket.
He turns, and Koushi clutches at Tooru’s arm before dragging him behind a shelf.
“Did you see—”
“Was that—”
“Why is the Inarizaki court captain wearing one of our sweaters,” Koushi hisses. Our, in this case, being one Karasuno Volleyball Club, because Koushi is certain he just saw, with his own two eyes, the black kanji characters embroidered on the same team-issued cream sweater that Koushi currently has in his closet, on a vaguely familiar sweater underneath Miya Atsumu’s jacket.
Tooru’s eyebrows do a very impressive wiggle. “You’re the Karasuno alum,” he hisses back, “ I— ”
“‘Tsumu!”
There’s a yell, and Koushi peeks around the corner just in time to see one Hinata Shoyou jump-tackle Miya Atsumu in what seems to be a hug.
Koushi turns to Tooru. Tooru stares at Koushi. Koushi stares back. At least they’re both as confused.
“Hang on.” The corner of Tooru’s mouth is turning down, in the way it does when he’s about to start going off about partially important things, like that time the sole Japanese konbini-style shop in San Juan ran out of milk bread. “Isn’t Shrimpy dating Tobio-chan?”
Koushi stares some more at Tooru. Tooru stares back.
“Oh shit,” they say, at the same time. Koushi considers ringing Daichi on speed-dial.
Someone clears their throat behind them.
(Later, Tooru will deny it vehemently, pouting through a mouthful of his konbini-bought cream sandwich, but Koushi is certain that he'd heard a yelp. Perhaps even a shriek.)
“You’re blocking the walnut bread,” Kageyama Tobio tells them, very bluntly.
Tooru turns panicked eyes at Koushi. Koushi is quite possibly screaming. Internally, of course. Dear God, and also maybe Jesus, he thinks, a little hysterically, please, I do not need another crisis today.
WHAT DO WE DO, Tooru’s deer-in-the-headlights look seems to scream.
“Um,” Koushi says, not very smartly. He turns back to Kageyama, who seems to be frowning at— Koushi’s hand, which is still clutching at Tooru’s coat. Which, huh.
“One moment, please,” he tells Kageyama, whose frown is starting to deepen. The kid will probably get wrinkles by the time he’s thirty. Koushi makes a mental note to talk to him about that, before he yanks Tooru down the aisle.
“So, uh,” Koushi says. “I may have forgotten to tell some people. About us.”
Tooru’s eyebrows do an even more complicated wiggle.
“Oh my god, Koushi,” he says, after about an eternity. “You’re a genius.”
He tugs Koushi back up the aisle, where Kageyama is still frowning, a loaf of walnut bread in his hands.
“Tobio-chan,” Tooru trills, with the false cheer of a man who has no idea what to do with a small child. Or, in this case, Kageyama Tobio. Potato, po-tah-to, Koushi thinks.
“Did you know,” he barrels on, “that Koushi and I are boyfriends.”
Kageyama’s frown, impossibly, deepens. He turns to Koushi.
Koushi smiles encouragingly at him.
“What,” asks Kageyama, “is going on.”
Tooru slings an arm around Koushi’s shoulder. "Boy-friends,” he repeats, slower now. “Like, when a boy like-likes a boy in a way that is not just bros." Koushi is simultaneously very much endeared, and also wants to crawl into a hole and die.
Kageyama casts him an alarmed look. “I don’t think this is a very funny joke, Suga-san.”
“Uh, no,” Koushi says, very eloquently, “we’re not— joking. We really are. Together.”
“Uh-huh.” Kageyama does not look visibly convinced. “I thought you liked girls,” he tells Tooru.
Tooru heaves a long suffering sigh. “The B in LGBT isn’t silent, Tobio-chan.” (Koushi is one hundred percent sure that he is, word for word, quoting a pamphlet that Iwaizumi Hajime had sent him as an April Fool’s joke.)
There’s a little crinkle in Kageyama’s forehead. “I’m going to—” he waves his hands in some aborted gesture, and starts heading for the yoghurt section.
“NO,” Koushi shrieks, and makes to snag the back of Kageyama’s hoodie— just as Hinata and Miya Atsumu round the corner, and come face to face with Kageyama.
Holding hands.
Koushi is halfway through speed-dialing Daichi when Kageyama is, inexplicably, dropping the walnut bread into the basket that Miya Atsumu is holding in his free hand. “Did you know,” he turns to Hinata, deadpan, “that Suga-san and Oikawa-san are apparently boyfriends.”
The three of them peer back at Koushi. And Tooru, who gives an awkward wave.
Hinata’s smile freezes.
They stand there like that, in the middle of grocery aisle 2, breads and jams, Koushi and Tooru looking haplessly at Kageyama, and Hinata and Miya Atsumu, who are still holding hands in front of Hinata’s boyfriend of two years and counting.
It’s Miya Atsumu who breaks the dead silence first. “Tobio, babe,” he says, “don’t be fucking homophobic.”
Kageyama gives him a dead-eyed stare.
Oh no.
Koushi clicks call on his phone.
Come on, Daichi, he thinks, a little desperately. Pick up before Karasuno gets disqualified from Spring High because Kageyama hit Miya Atsumu in the face in a fucking grocery store.
“Jackass,” Kageyama huffs, “I can’t believe you.”
Anytime now, Dai-
“How the hell can I be homophobic when I have two boyfriends.”
“What the fuck,” Tooru all but yells.
The call clicks.
“Hello? ” comes Daichi’s mildly concerned voice.