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Hinata and Tadashi, Kei has found, are terrible when left alone together. It tends to bolster both their mischievousness and their stupidity, and Kei is already very tired without having to fish his best friend out of one of the bullshit situations Hinata constantly gets himself into.
This time there are no cripplingly awkward conversations or ridiculously buff strangers for him to save Tadashi from, but in Kei’s humble opinion it’s very much a bullshit situation.
“Tell me why,” he cuts off with a sigh, then a pause. They’re loitering outside of the practice room, the first and third years long gone, waiting for Kageyama to stop taking his sweet time getting changed. He’d only just stepped out of the room himself when Hinata and Tadashi had descended upon him with manic glee.
He hadn’t asked about the extra bag Tadashi brought along with his school bag, and now he’s starting to wish he had. Hinata holds a string bag, straps pulled tightly shut in deference to his inability to stay in place, and earlier Kei saw Kageyama shove a bulging plastic bag into the corner of the club room with the rest of his belongings. This is feeling more and more like a premeditated attempt to get Kei to go along with their plans.
Kei forcibly reminds himself that he truly does enjoy this friendship on most days. Six centimeters from his chest, Hinata’s practically vibrating with anticipation. Tadashi merely grins when Kei looks to him for support, which makes it especially hard to remember why he puts up with such energetic people on the daily. Quite possibly it’s a divine punishment for some slight in a previous life, like cruelly breaking someone’s heart or stealing candy from a hundred babies. Maybe some minor larceny or something.
He channels all the incredulity in his 190 centimeter body (there’s a lot; you’d think he’d have gotten used to being bombarded with shit like this by now) into his voice.
“Why you think I would want to spend the next eighteen hours crammed into a room with two volleyball freaks that think with their stomachs, the personification of an espresso mochi addiction, and Yachi.”
Hinata makes a disgruntled noise at the same time Tadashi points a finger at Kei and says, “Fuck you, Tsukki, espresso mochi is good.”
Kei sucks air in between his teeth with a grimace, as if to say ‘is it, though?’
“It’s not my fault you have underdeveloped taste buds!” Tadashi scowls, personally affronted. Kei looks on with glee as Hinata pipes up.
“No, no,” Hinata says, looking at Tadashi with something like pity. “He’s right, espresso is the worst flavor.”
Tadashi scoffs. “I’ve decided espresso-haters aren’t allowed in my house.”
Kageyama, with his innate ability to show up at the worst possible time, chooses this moment to finally exit the club room. He looks between Kei and Hinata, then at Tadashi. “I guess we’re not having that sleepover, then.”
“I already talked to your mom. She said it’s okay,” Tadashi says neutrally, his way of telling Kei not to worry about it. He could still back out if he really wanted to, and he knows this is the opening Tadashi is giving him to do so. He’s tempted. He’s so tempted, somehow still not used to being this exhausted after all this time.
A headache builds in Kei’s temples as Hinata begins to whine. Tadashi watches Kei with a smile just smug enough to remind him of the knife cat meme Kuroo likes to spam Kei’s inbox with. He knows Kei lacks the patience to wait out Hinata’s pouting and pleading, and that it’s only a matter of time before he caves.
Kageyama says nothing, which wouldn’t be odd—he’s at either zero or a hundred without much in between—if it weren’t for the fact that if Hinata is being loud, Kageyama follows suit without fail. There’s an odd expression on his face that Kei might have been able to parse if it’d been on Tadashi, or really anyone else; Kei still finds it difficult to reconcile Kageyama’s more relaxed behaviors with the bossy tyrant he’d first seen from a distance, pulling his teammates’ strings so hard they snapped against their puppeteer’s fingers and came alive to rebel against him.
At a second glance, he looks almost longing. Hopeful, at the least, and trying to hide it. He keeps clenching his jaw as though to keep himself from speaking, like he’s afraid to get his hopes up in case the outcome is disappointing. Like there’s something that he desperately wants nearly within reach, but reaching out to grab it will only result in it being yanked cruelly out of his grasp.
Something occurs to him, sudden and striking. There’s a very good chance that Kageyama, who spent middle school isolated and angry, hasn’t been over to someone else’s house in a long time. Maybe ever, considering how… Kageyama he is.
It’s an uncomfortable realization. If it weren’t for Tadashi, it could have been Kei that spent all that time alone. In another life, Kei didn’t grow up half living in the Yamaguchi household. He didn’t have someone to stand beside as his gangly limbs and uncontrollable growth set him aside from the rest of their class. He didn’t have someone willing to yell in his face, call him out on his bullshit, then turn around and brag about him to people who definitely didn’t ask.
The fight leaves him on his next exhale. “Fine,” he acquiesces, rubbing his temple and carefully avoiding looking at Kageyama. His thoughts have left him somewhat raw, as they often do.
(Way to go, social awkwardness. Or perhaps this blunder belongs to his resurgent anxiety. Who’s to say?)
Hinata stutters to a stop, the wind taken out of his sails. He squints, likely aware that Kei wasn’t listening to anything he’d been saying but unwilling to call him out for fear of Kei changing his mind.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he continues. “You haven’t pestered me into submission, though you are getting on my nerves. Spectacularly so, even.”
“You’re giving up before we sic Yachi-chan on you.” Tadashi says knowingly.
Got it in one. No one told him that having a best friend would mean having someone exposing him all the damn time, but he supposes it’s much too late to do anything about it now. Hinata giggles as Kei flips Tadashi off.
Kei doesn’t play favorites, per se—if he did, Tadashi would get away with far too many shenanigans. He has a soft spot for Yachi, though, in part because of how much she reminds him of Tadashi but mostly because Kei thinks it’s impossible not to like Yachi. She’s kind, and opening up to her every so often doesn’t rankle his nerves. For all her anxiety, there’s a strand of steel threaded through her spine and she doesn’t let anyone forget it.
“Once Yachi gets wind of this, it’s going to happen whether I approve or not. I might as well cut my losses now.” Not looking at Kageyama is more difficult than he anticipated; from the corner of his eye, Kei sees his face light up. It’s not much, just a lift of the brows and a minute upturn of the lips. Kageyama directs his smile, small and immeasurably pleased, at the floor. His eyes are so bright. It feels like he’s intruding on something private. It’s a little—a lot, unreasonably and intensely—devastating, that smile. He can’t tear his eyes away.
Below, the door to the gym rattles open. As the group descends the stairs to meet the remaining members of the team, Kei finds it a herculean effort to take his eyes off the back of Kageyama’s head and keep them that way. He’s got nice shoulders, is all. Definitely broader than they were this time last year. Not that Kei’s been paying special attention to that detail.
(It’s hard to find guys that are taller than him, alright? He’s allowed to fixate on the people that can outsize him in other ways, though if Kei felt like being brutally honest with himself he could admit that the only boy he’s fixated on is the one currently bearing the brunt of his attention. It’s a good thing Kei’s coping mechanism of choice is repressing his emotions, otherwise he’d probably be blushing quite a lot, something his complexion does nothing to hide. Nice to avoid that particular embarrassment before it can threaten to ruin his life.)
The moment Yachi comes bouncing out of the gym, where she’d been having a meeting with Ukai, Takeda, and Ennoshita, she’s completely on board. She too carries a second backpack, jittering with excitement. She was clearly in on the planning; Kei’s more surprised at her mother’s apparent permission for her to stay over at a boy’s house with three other boys she’s only met fleetingly than at her general involvement. Kei motions to her smiling face, a silent ‘see what I mean?’ written on his own.
The gesture was intended for Tadashi, but when he turns to exchange one of their ‘yes we can communicate nonverbally’ stares that make people think they’re judging them (they usually are), he finds that Tadashi’s place is now occupied by Kageyama. Kageyama, who’s still smiling. Kageyama, whose smile isn’t even a little bit scary right now. Kageyama, on whom Kei has a crush the size of a meteoroid.
(Tadashi calls him dramatic but that’s the honest truth; he’s watching an oncoming asteroid, knowing the epicenter of the crater is going to be right where his heart stood, struck dumb by the realization that there’s no time to move out of the way. That he wouldn’t, even if he could. Getting larger as it approaches, an apocalyptic eclipse. What a view, though. What a way to go.)
There’s that blush he’d been so glad to avoid up until now. Kei’s luck is great today.
Tadashi can probably hear his internal screaming from where he’s standing between Hinata and Yachi. His shit-eating grin certainly implies it. Kei tries to flip him off without alerting one of the adults hanging around and most likely fails—Ukai saw him for sure, but all he does is crack a grin and return to his conversation with Takeda as if nothing happened.
The Yamaguchi household is within walking distance of the school, closer than Kei’s and, more importantly, sans a sibling that is way too interested in the antics of five high schoolers. They stop by the Foothill Store on their way, following Ukai inside and raiding their supply of meat buns and milk tea under the coach’s watchful eye. They escape with minimal scolding after Tadashi assures him that Yamaguchi-san is more than capable of preparing a proper meal for teen athletes.
“The first years are better behaved than you.” Kei complains as Hinata hangs off his arm, pulling on it intermittently.
It’s true. Ito, Sato, and Sasuki are the most mellow first years Kei’s ever met. Maybe that’s because nothing short of a herd of stampeding elephants could create more chaos than Kei’s experienced over the last year. He’s not hopeful that second year will be less draining; let it be a nice surprise if, when Hell finally freezes over, it actually happens.
“We could have had a slumber party ages ago if you weren’t so cranky, Tsukishima!” Hinata yells, exuberant even after another grueling practice. What does he eat?
‘Slumber party’ feels a bit juvenile, even for Hinata. Kei lets it go, because sometimes the best way to get Hinata to wind down is to ignore every opening he leaves for verbal potshots no matter how tempting.
Kageyama, demoted to walking Hinata’s bike by virtue of being wrapped around his best friend’s finger, tilts his head in consideration. This is one of the things Kei likes about him: the hit-or-miss quietude, the thoughtful (if intimidating) furrow of his brows, the idle sweep of his gaze over his surroundings as he categorizes all the little things he sees.
He knows this last one because one of Tadashi and Hinata’s earliest dates with disaster had involved convincing Kageyama to download Snapchat, and the pictures he occasionally puts on his story are typically of plants that have grown into odd shapes, or snails from the tall grass outside his house, or interesting people and places. The short, pointed captions are more charming than they have any right to be.
At the door, Kei says hello to Yamaguchi’s mother, watches the others thank her for allowing them to stay over, and quietly asks her if she needs any help with dinner once the others have been ushered out of the kitchen by Yamaguchi. She laughs and pushes him into the living room, telling him to play nice. Kei frowns at her, but mumbles that he’ll try.
Contrary to his expectations, the living room isn’t already in shambles by the time Kei gets there. Hinata and Yachi are pouring over Tadashi’s expansive collection of horror movies and a more modest stack of other genres, Kageyama hovering over them with uncertainty, offering his opinion every few minutes. Tadashi’s sprawled out on the couch at the other side of the room, watching with silent amusement instead of doing any sort of hosting.
Kei ignores the squabble that’s broken out over such-and-such movie obviously being the better choice in favor of lowering himself onto the couch beside Tadashi and leveling one of his best glares at him. Best friend or not, he doesn’t appreciate being blindsided into social gatherings.
The other doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish; he simply smirks at Kei and tells him that he still has extra clothes upstairs if he’d like to change into pajamas early. As if Kei needs a reminder that Tadashi is a serial clothing thief.
Yachi abandons the argument to claim Yamaguchi-san’s armchair for herself. Tadashi finally deigns to break up the fight with assurances that they have plenty of time to watch two movies, so there’s no need to decide between them.
The first movie goes by with jeering and sarcastic commentary all around. Yachi criticizes the physics of the stunts and explosions so thoroughly that they have to pause the movie twice so that she can finish her rant without talking over the dialogue. Hinata throws popcorn at the screen whenever the characters make choices he doesn’t agree with, which happens often enough that Tadashi threatens not to pop any more popcorn for the rest of the night.
From his spot on the floor next to Hinata, Kageyama refrains from making commentary unless it’s in response to something he can bicker about with Hinata. Every so often his arm brushes up against Kei’s shin through the leg of his pants and Kei has to clamp down on the stuttering breath that tries to escape him; Kageyama may be dense enough not to think anything about it, but Tadashi’s like a shark that’s scented blood when it comes to gossip, and Kei, and being nosey.
They break for dinner, during which Kei has a great time watching Kageyama stumble through interacting with an adult human that has nothing to do with volleyball. Yachi is nervous but sweet, and Hinata is already talking Yamaguchi-san’s ear off. He can only dream of one day possessing the level of patience required to sit through one of Hinata's onomatopoeia-filled tangents with a genuine smile.
Regrouping after dinner takes a slight detour when Tadashi insists on putting sleep clothes on at seven PM, which turns into Hinata squawking as he realizes he’s neglected to pack a shirt to sleep in and ends with Kageyama launching an extra t-shirt into his face full force with a deadpan, “You’re welcome.”
To escape the sudden (irrational, come on Kei, it’s just a shirt) jealousy over the idea of Hinata wearing Kageyama’s clothes, he follows Tadashi upstairs to change into a pair of pajama pants Tadashi stole from him the last time he was here. Kei grabs a sweater off the back of the desk chair in retribution, though Tadashi’s so used to this song and dance that he doesn’t bat an eye.
Yamaguchi-san sits with them through the second movie, calling it a night directly afterwards with an exaggerated kiss on Tadashi’s forehead that makes him snicker until he realizes, as she turns to him with a gleam in her eye, that he’s made himself a target. She kisses the top of his head and takes her leave, cackling all the way to her bedroom.
Once the resulting teasing dies down, the question of what to do next arises. Hinata’s gotten fidgety at this point, and Kei has to commend him for making it so long without bouncing all over the place.
Yachi immediately rules out board games, because she doesn’t want to have to deal with screaming matches over the rules at such a late time. Kei can’t find it in himself to blame her, and instead suggests a word game, expecting it to get vetoed immediately and unsurprised when it does so.
Hinata wants to do truth or dare, but Kei points out that there’s no way they’ll be able to play that without disturbing Yamaguchi-san, and so that idea is scrapped. He’s honestly relieved to have such a strong deterrent, because Kei’s not so sure he’d survive the experience even if he hadn’t already toiled through the school day and volleyball practice.
They decide on playing a variety of card games with the battered deck that Hinata pulls out of his bookbag.
“Why was that even in there?” Tadashi asks, shuffling the bent cards with expertise. Kei recalls the stilted magic tricks Tadashi used to perform for him in middle school, hands clumsy with the cards that now nearly jump from one hand to the other. These days he uses his skill with sleight of hand to do purposefully shitty tricks and commit heinous crimes against Kei’s sanity.
“More importantly, how long have they been in there? It looks like your textbooks started chewing on them.”
“Sh-shut up,” Hinata says, only a little quieter than usual in consideration for Yamaguchi-san. “We can still play with them, can’t we?”
Yachi suggests they play war after the first game of slap jacks becomes a minor slap fight—Kei isn’t sure if she’s being ironic or not, because there will definitely be more fighting with that one—and with the deck split five ways, there are barely enough cards for the game to operate.
Kei gets knocked out first, giving the rest of his cards to a surprisingly competitive Yachi. She could probably give Hinata and Kageyama a run for their money in terms of sheer stubbornness, if only she let herself be a little more selfish. Altruism fits Yachi well; Kei can’t help but want better for her anyways.
He leans back on his hands, watching the others play the rest of their game fondly, and feels a little gross about how mushy he’s being. At least he’s the only one who will know about it. Kageyama is the next to lose, throwing his last card at Hinata, who had ironically beaten his nine with a ten. He listens as they bicker, only to be shushed by Yachi before either can complete a sentence.
Hinata and Yachi beat out Yamaguchi, who watches them with interest as Kageyama sulks beside Kei.
Kei decides he likes it better when Kageyama looks happy.
“Come on King,” He says, bumping his shoulder softly into Kageyama’s. “Cheer up. You’ll just have to beat him the next time.”
It’s dumb; it’s a card game. They're going to play another round as soon as Hinata or Yachi wins. Any genuine disappointment Kageyama feels at his loss will be gone in a matter of minutes. But he wants to bring that expression of wonderment back to Kageyama’s face and do what he can to keep it there, even if it means investing himself in silly card games every once in a while.
(If first-year Kei could see him now, he’d mock present-day Kei for going soft and putting stock in things that have no greater importance. First-year Kei is promptly smothered under a throw pillow so that present-day Kei can try to enjoy himself.)
Kageyama looks at him, a shallow crease on his forehead but otherwise relaxed. “Yeah,” he says, voice so quiet it comes out as a sigh. He knocks his shoulder back against Kei’s, slightly rougher than the first. It’s an easily observable fact that Kageyama is clumsy with most forms of affection. The thought pulls painfully at his heart.
Tadashi’s been his friend for more than half of his life and they don’t keep distance between them much anymore. Even now, his leg rests against the other’s, warm and familiar, and the thought of Kageyama never having experienced that makes him cold. But he doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Kageyama, and they watch Yachi and Hinata play a disproportionately intense game of war with their shoulders resting against each other.
“Don’t do that,” Kageyama says, hours later.
Hinata is taking his turn in the bathroom, and Yachi is getting changed in Tadashi’s bedroom. Tadashi himself is in the kitchen, scrounging for snacks like he always does late at night.
Kei stops, holding his bedding above where he’d been about to put it at the edge of the room. “What?”
“Don’t put that there.” His voice isn’t challenging, the way it is when they banter. Kageyama flexes his hands, like he feels awkward talking to Kei one-on-one, without the pretense of school or volleyball to guide the conversation. “Hinata gets really restless at night, and he’ll wake you up when he gets up to use the bathroom a million times.”
“I heard that, Bakageyama!” Hinata hollers from the bathroom, but it sounds like he’s in the middle of brushing his teeth. Kei hopes faintly that he doesn’t get froth all over the bathroom mirror, and Kageyama laughs quietly as some of the tension fades from the air, barely more than a breath with a hint of his voice carried on it.
“Don’t make a mess in Yamaguchi’s bathroom!” He yells back. Kei cringes at their volume, hoping that Yamaguchi-san hasn’t woken up. How is it that his happiness is so quietly expressed when every other emotion he has seems like it’s cracked up to ten?
Kageyama, he knows, is made of determination and a will to play far stronger than Kei’s own. Anything capable of stifling that drive… Kei probably wouldn’t survive it, definitely wouldn’t make it on his own. Being true to himself has never been Kei’s thing, though; even when Kageyama was alone, he knew who he was. Kei supposes he’s always been strong like that.
“If I were you, I’d move in more towards the center and let him have the outside.” He gestures towards the middle of the room, where he’s already dumped his own blankets and pillow.
“Oh,” Kei says, unreasonably happy with the notion that Kageyama cares enough to worry after him. It’s another of those small things Kageyama does that Kei hoards, holds close to his heart so he can look them over in the dead of night when things are too heavy. He can feel a smile growing on his face. “Thanks.”
Kageyama nods, then goes to lay out his own futon. From the doorway, Tadashi catches Kei’s eye and winks. Kei flips him off just in time for Yachi to descend the stairs to witness it with wide eyes.
The next morning, Kei wakes up feeling less rested than when he went to sleep on account of the incessant chatter bouncing between the five of them after they laid down to sleep. He’s curled up on his side, facing the mildly blurry form of Kageyama. The other’s leg is bent at the knee and propped up against Kei’s folded legs.
Kageyama is already awake, tapping away at his phone, elbow brushing Kei’s arm lightly, sleepy and at ease, unbothered by the places where their legs and arms touch.
Kei doesn’t need much. He’s got his friends, and a team, and even a scrap of the ambition he’s been too scared to acknowledge; with this, he’s content. With this, he’s not so afraid to work for more. With this—miniscule connections, a comfortable silence, possibility in the palm of his hand—he doesn’t need anything as grandiose as love.
(It might be nice, though. It’s a thought for another day, when he’s got something more than a handful of possible hints and hope to guide him through it. Even with that, he’s content.)