Chapter Text
“Senpai!” Atsumu shouts, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder as he runs up the front stairs to Inarizaki High School. “Kita-senpai!”
The third year stops just before the school doors and turns, chestnut eyes finding and locking onto Atsumu. His expression is mild, but since it’s not severe Atsumu takes that to mean he’s not unhappy to see Atsumu.
“Good mornin’,” Atsumu greets with a smile.
Kita looks up at him, head tilting slightly to one side as he studies Atsumu’s expression.
It makes Atsumu nervous. Was he acting weird?
“Good mornin’,” Kita returns at length. He glances down at Atsumu’s chest. “You’re not wearing gloves.”
Ah. Not staring at his chest. His hand is still gripping his backpack strap, pulling on it, and his hand rests on his chest just over his heart.
Atsumu sniffs, the cold winter air making his nose run slightly. “Yeah, forgot ‘em.”
Kita makes a noise. Atsumu knows instinctively to interpret it as a disapproving sound. “Your hands will dry out in this winter air.”
Atsumu’s hand clenches tighter around his backpack strap. “I got moisturizer in my bag. It’s fine, Kita-senpai.”
Kita’s eyes meet his again and hold for just a moment, as if weighing Atsumu’s assurance. Then he nods, accepting it, and turns to open the front door. He holds it for Atsumu.
Fuck, Kita is so nice.
Atsumu smiles at him as he goes through the door and hopes the blush on his cheeks looks like it’s from the cold. Not because the boy he likes opened the door for him. God, that’s so lame. Why is he so lame?
“Atsumu.”
The halls are mostly empty, it’s early. Class won’t start for forty-five minutes.
“Yeah, senpai?”
“What are you doing here so early?”
Atsumu grins, wide and little sly, cutting his eyes to the side to see Kita smiling faintly, like Atsumu is amusing him. Atsumu grins wider.
“Well,” he starts, as if he’d just been waiting for Kita to ask since the moment he said good morning. He had been. He launches into his explanation, about the science teacher, Kishida-sensei, and Atsumu’s stellar science project that was going to be submitted for national competition, but one of the requirements was a video presentation. He came in early to record the presentation and one of the school’s videography club students was going to help film and edit it and Kishida-sensei was allowing him to use his classroom as a place to film it.
Kita listens, nodding and giving responses at all the right times.
“Impressive, Atsumu,” he says after a few seconds of silence when Atsumu finishes his explanation. They’ve reached a staircase and start climbing it together. Atsumu will stop at the second floor while Kita will go on to the third.
Atsumu feels his cheeks heat, again.
“Th-thanks.”
One side of Kita’s mouth tugs upward in a half smile that would look almost like a smirk if his eyes weren’t so kind. “I didn’t know ya were interested in alternative forms o’ fertilizer,” Kita continues. “For rice, specifically.”
Red. His entire face must be beet red. It sure feels like it’s on fire.
Because Kita said that looking far too knowing, no small amount of teasing amusement in his tone, and a confident air about him. Almost smug, if that kind of emotion wasn’t beneath Kita Shinsuke who is humble almost always.
He knows.
He has to know.
Atsumu, struck with this realization, stops. Right there in the middle of the staircase. Kita continues one step, two steps, before stopping too and turning around to face Atsumu. He’s taller like this, standing two steps higher than Atsumu.
Atsumu swallows thickly, has no idea what his expression looks like because he’s too busy feeling mortified. His mouth opens and closes, having no idea how to respond. What to say.
Kita just looks at him, eyes roving over his face before dropping down to his shoulders, his chest. He reaches out and Atsumu stiffens as his hand makes contact. But he’s just picking off a piece of lint on Atsumu’s school jacket.
Atsumu almost relaxes, thinking that was all it was.
But then Kita’s hand flattens over his pec, slowly sliding down. Too slow to be anything but a… caress. Fuck, just thinking that word makes Atsumu start to tremble, his heartbeat kicking up a few notches. What the fuck.
What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck!
“Good luck with yer video presentation.” Like there’s nothing odd about this entire interaction. Like Atsumu isn't a total disaster, about to melt into a puddle in the school staircase. Kita’s hand is still resting on his chest. Just sitting there. Comfy. Making itself at home. “Although, I’m sure ya’ve prepared well enough not t’ need luck.”
Atsumu somehow manages to find and fire up the minimum brain cells required to respond. “Yeah. Uh. I made notecards.”
Kita huffs a quiet laugh, barely more than an exhale, but the way he looks down and smiles gives away his amusement. He’s so goddamn cute, with his smile and his chin tipped down and his eyelashes all wispy and long. Atsumu wants to punch a wall. He wants to kiss him. He wants to take his hands and beg him to laugh again.
“I’d expect no less from ya, Atsumu.”
Kita looks back up through his eyelashes, just a quick glance at Atsumu’s face, and his smile widens. Must be whatever dopey expression is on Atsumu’s face. It’s probably hilarious because he’s got absolutely no chill. There is no room for cool, calm, or collected. He is just pure disaster right now and it’s probably all reflected right there on his face for his senpai to see.
Kita’s hand slides from his chest and Atsumu instantly misses it. But Kita is turning and ascending the stairs once again. Atsumu follows, just seconds behind. He doesn’t quicken his pace to catch up to Kita’s side. Instead, he stays behind and tries to get a grip. He’s not sure what exactly is going on. Maybe he’s imagining things or his crush is giving him rose-tinted glasses to see through and he’s misinterpreting Kita’s actions and intentions.
His chest is still warm from where Kita’s hand touched him.
At the second floor, Kita pauses briefly to nod a farewell to Atsumu. “Have a good day, Atsumu. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
Atsumu nods back, trying not to be awkward. He keeps his chin up and makes eye contact, a facsimile of confidence. “Yeah, I’ll see ya at practice, senpai.”
Kita continues on up the stairs.
Atsumu might let his eyes follow for a second, maybe dropping down to stare at Kita’s ass for just a moment as he climbs, step after step. He only realizes he hasn’t moved and has been intently staring at his senpai’s ass when Kita turns the corner at the top of the stairs and moves out of sight.
Oops.
Shaking his head, Atsumu curses quietly and heads toward Kishida-sensei’s classroom. He’s got limited time to shoot the best video presentation in the nation. He forces his mind to stop thinking about Kita’s ass and starting mentally reviewing his notecards about rice farming and fertilizer.
~~~
It’s about halfway through the day when Atsumu starts to really believe the whole thing was a giant misunderstanding. He’d imagined probably half of it. Misinterpreted the rest. Possibly hallucinated that hand on his chest and the way it lingered.
Kita Shinsuke had not been subtly flirting with him.
Nope.
That couldn’t have happened.
Because Atsumu was Atsumu, and Kita Shinsuke was far too good for him.
“Oi, ‘Samu.” During their lunch break, Atsumu decides to consult his brother on the matter. Because two heads are better than one. And though Osamu has never been in a relationship and that may suggest ineptitude in romantic matters, the opposite was true. Osamu has successfully avoided entanglements by being able to spot a crush a mile away and take a detour to avoid unwanted affections aimed his way. “Do ya think Kita-san likes me?”
There is a brief moment where Osamu squints at him, trying to figure out his exact meaning, his eyes widen fractionally with understanding, and then he finishes chewing and swallows his food. Then he answers.
“Fuck no.”
It’s short. Simple. And emphatic.
Atsumu is highly offended.
“Ya hardly even considered it!” he shouts, kicking him in the thigh. Osamu sways sideways from the force of the kick, knocking into Suna who is sprawled on the floor next to them, earphones in, listening to music. He lifts his head to scowl at them, a threat in his eyes. The twin flinch back and scoot a few feet away before getting into a scuffle that might disturb Suna again.
They have a section of hallway, located in Building 2, that the three of them sometimes meet at during lunch breaks. They only go there in the winter, when it’s too cold to eat outside. Occasionally other members of the volleyball team will join them, though it's usually just the three of them. No other members want to put up with the inevitable arguments and fights and scuffles the twins get into.
Not that Suna has to put up with that. Just a glare has them at least shifting away, if not outright cowing them into behaving.
Atsumu has Osamu in a headlock now. “Yer the wors’ brother ever!”
“I’m the mos’ honest brother!” Osamu eeks out, slightly strangled and face turning red. “Someone’s gotta say it when ya got a crazy idea in yer head! The captain’s ‘bout as diff’rent from ya as can be. The two of ya are incompatible.”
Deflating, Osamu takes the opportunity to wiggle out of his hold, glaring at him with a scowl on his face. He reaches up to fix his hair but Atsumu is vindictively pleased to see his hair is now an unsalvageable mess.
He lets it go when his brother kicks him in the thigh before scooting across the floor back to his bento. He’ll take a bruise on his thigh over getting his carefully styled hair messed up in revenge.
He takes a moment to think about what Osamu said before going back to his own bento. “Incompatible.” It’s not… wrong. Kita is calm and collected and confident. Atsumu is always a little buzzy, with too much energy and too many thoughts, and he can be impulsive, and his anxiety makes his confidence seesaw on the best of days. He lives to play volleyball. Kita plays volleyball seriously, like he does everything seriously, but everyone knows his future is on his family’s farm. They aren’t very similar, he has to admit. Almost polar opposites.
Atsumu munches on carrots and cucumber as inspiration for an argument strikes him.
“What about ‘opposites attract’?” he offers, raising his eyebrows at his brother, daring him to give a counterargument. “Besides, aren’tcha even curious why I’m askin’ in the first place?”
His brother has the gall to roll his eyes. “Obviously, yer big fat crush on Kita-san is makin’ ya desperate to see something that’s not there. Bet he said something polite and you took it as some kinda confession.”
Atsumu is about to snap something back, but his brother continues before he can.
“And ‘opposites attract’ is horseshit.” God, he sounds so fucking arrogant, like he’s an expert on relationships. He might be good at identifying crushes, but he’s never actually been in a relationship. He doesn’t know shit. Atsumu shouldn’t have asked him anything. “Compatibility is what makes a good relationship. Even couples that’re supposedly ‘opposites’ on a superficial level only last because on a deeper level, they’re compatible. Have the same beliefs and values and shit. Opposites attracting might be good for messin’ around with someone, but if you’re not on the same page, it won’t be a good relationship.”
It sucks that Osamu’s actually, kind of, a little bit, making sense.
Atsumu doesn’t have anything ready to counter with, so he’s silent. Osamu smirks—taking the silence as a win for him—and stuffs half an onigiri into his mouth like the pig he is.
They’re quiet while they both finish they’re lunches, Atsumu still trying to figure out how he can back up his theory that Kita might like him.
“But I swear, he was flirtin’ with me this morning,'' Atsumu finally just blurts out, frustrated.
“You’re delusional.” And Atsumu realizes Osamu has reached his own conclusion and will not budge. He is not going to be convinced by anything Atsumu says. It would take Kita himself stating the fact for Osamu to believe he likes Atsumu and was flirting with him in a school staircase.
It sucks that Atsumu had half-convinced himself of the same thing before even asking Osamu. He’d been trying to convince himself more than Osamu throughout this conversation. He deflated and stared morosely at his empty bento. He couldn’t even eat his feelings because of his cursed habit of portioning his meals perfectly and had no more food left.
But he did have a wallet. He stood. “I’m gonna go buy some melon bread.”
“Get me some juice.”
Atsumu nodded agreeably, with no intention of getting his brother anything. Fucker didn’t even pretend for a single second to believe Atsumu had a chance with Kita.
Suna, oblivious to the entire conversation, looks like he’s dozing— unaware that he just missed a huge opportunity to gather the gossip worthy of blackmail.
~~~
Atsumu failed to notice the lack of music coming from Suna’s earphones or the tug of the corner of his mouth as he almost managed to completely hide a smirk.
~~~
At practice, Atsumu feels like he’s waiting for something.
That morning, Kita had said, “I’ll see ya this afternoon.” For some reason, Atsumu’s brain tried to dissect this phrase for hidden meanings. And when the possible meanings got wilder and wilder and very, very unlikely, Atsumu decided to give up and just take it for the simple phrase that it was: Kita saying he’d see him later.
But.
Atsumu still expects… more.
Is Kita going to come over and talk to him? Seek him out and ask how his video presentation went? Ask him how his day was?
He gets to practice at his usual fifteen minutes early, changes in the locker room at the same time Gin, Osamu, and Aran get there and change. Atsumu keeps cranking his neck around every time the door opens, expecting Kita to walk through it and head straight for Atsumu. To ask his questions. To speak to Atsumu.
Kita does not walk through the door in the time it takes Atsumu to get shorts, t-shirt, practice jersey, knee pads, athletic socks, and his volleyball shoes on.
Kita is already in the gym, setting up for practice and ordering the first years around.
Oh. So, that’s why he hadn’t…
Atsumu starts stretching and doesn’t realize he’s staring at Kita until Akagi kicks him in the thigh. It’s a light kick but it’s right over the spot Osamu got him early, so it makes him hiss and clutch at his leg. Approximately half a second later, his thigh muscles seize like the worst charlie-horse cramp of his life. He shouts, curling up and squirming around on the floor, trying desperately to get away from the pain, but seeing as it’s part of his own body, there’s nowhere to go.
“Oh hell. I didn’t think I got ya that hard,” Akagi says, looking alarmed. It’s not the first time his given one of the Miya Twins a smack, but he’s never gotten this reaction before. He’s never tried to actually hurt them. This time was no different, he hadn’t actually been aiming to maim his teammate and the best setter in high school volleyball, he’d just wanted to knock him out of whatever trance he’d been in. Atsumu had been looking a little creepy, eyes vacant and mouth open, staring at the captain like a zombie who’d spotted fresh flesh to feast on.
Atsumu manages to grit out an irritable, “Fuck you, ‘Kagi,” through his teeth.
“Language, Atsumu,” says the captain, materializing at Atsumu’s side at literally the worst possible moment. He frowns, eyebrows lowering as he takes in Atsumu’s position and Akagi guilty expression. He quickly realizes Atsumu isn’t just being dramatic and is in real, actual pain. He kneels down at Atsumu’s side. “What happened? Are you okay?”
One of his hands goes to Atsumu’s back, right in the middle, between his shoulder blades. His other hand reaches for Atsumu’s thigh, his touch gentle. Atsumu stills at the touches, though he starts to tremble faintly from the continued pain.
Fuck fuck fuck. This hurts, goddamit.
The hem of his shorts gets tugged up carefully, Atsumu slow to realize Kita has pulled the material up dangerously high.
Akagi hisses in sympathy from above them both, standing on Atsumu’s other side and looking down at his bare thigh. And the huge ass bruise, now revealed and on display, that’s a concerning shade of dark purple, blue, and red.
Atsumu does not make a sound, biting his tongue to keep back more swear words, whimpers of pain, and any other possibly embarrassing thing he might say with Kita Shinsuke touching him. He focuses on Kita’s face, looking up at him in both anticipation and mortification. He’s such a disaster. Rolling around on the floor like a wimp but stupidly excited that his captain is touching him. It’s not even touching in a fun way. He’s just assessing an injury.
Seriously, Atsumu is such a loser.
Kita’s face darkens as he takes in the bruise. His frown becomes a scowl, eyes narrowing to angry slits and his jaw tenses.
Shitfuckdammit, he’s so hot.
“How didja get this bruise, Atsumu?” Kita asks quietly with steel in his voice. Atsumu hopes it wasn’t obvious that he shivered when Kita said his name, like his tongue wrapped around the syllables intimately.
Or maybe Atsumu was hearing things. It was the pain. Making him delusional.
“I didn’t do that,” Akagi says quickly, though he sounds confused as much as he does defensive. “I barely kicked ya.”
A grunt. “No, ya didn’t do it, senpai.” Atsumu rolls his eyes, panting a little as the cramp seems to kick up a notch. His face scrunches up in a grimace. “‘Samu did it at lunch. We had a li’l scuffle.”
Kita’s gaze snaps up to meet his eyes and Atsumu leans back, instantly wishing he could take the truthful explanation back and just lie. Lie and pretend he didn’t know where he got the bruise. It just appeared. Spontaneously.
Or maybe he should have just tried to pin it all on Osamu, leave his participation in the scuffle out of it. Say Osamu attacked him, no provocation.
But lying about what Osamu did or didn’t do usually came back to bite him in ass. He’s been conditioned over the years to just own up to the many fights they get into.
Doesn’t stop him from wanting to avoid Kita’s censure.
“This could be serious. Did you see the school nurse?” is all Kita says, however. Atsumu absolutely does not believe, not for one second, that Kita will spare him a lecture about fighting with his brother later, after he’s asked more pertinent questions.
Atsumu shakes his head in the negative.
“Did you see the trainer?” Kita tries again.
Atsumu bites his lip, looking away sheepishly. He shakes his head again. He glances back at Kita. “I didn’t think it was that bad?” he says, squinting like he’s bracing for a hit, knowing his excuse is shit.
Kita sighs and Atsumu feels his heart drop down through his ass.
Oh no. Not the sigh.
Not the I’m disappointed in you sigh.
“Go see the trainer, Atsumu,” Kita says with no room for argument. “Can ya walk on yer own?”
Atsumu nods, but abruptly stops. He takes another moment to assess himself and grimaces. “Uh. Not sure,” he reluctantly admits. Pain is radiating through his whole leg at this point, centered on the bruise, but the muscles are still seized.
Kita calls out to Aran-kun to lead the beginning of practice and then dips down to pull one of Atsumu’s arms over his shoulders. Atsumu looks at his captain in flustered confusion, which rapidly turns to chagrin when he realizes what’s happening. Kita’s other arm slips under his knees.
And then he’s carrying Atsumu bridal style.
Oh fuck.
Fuck.
Atsumu has to close his eyes because he can’t see the looks on the rest of his teams’ faces. He can’t. He’s utterly mortified. Especially because his leg hurts so damn much he can’t even try to struggle out of Kita’s hold to walk on his own.
Yep. That’s the only reason he’s not struggling.
Totally.
Kita walks steadily, saying a few words here and there when they pass teammates, but Atsumu’s soul has left his body and he doesn’t recall a single word. How is Kita so strong? He’s smaller than Atsumu, but is lifting him like it’s nothing. He’s not straining or breathing hard.
“Are ya in pain or is it really this embarrassin’ to be carried?”
The direct question from Kita, spoken so close to his ear, drags Atsumu’s soul back into his body. He groans and drops his head and turns it to hide his face. Which is a mistake because now his head is in Kita’s neck. He smells good.
Damn it.
“ ‘M embarrassed,” he mumbles.
Kita’s arm shifts a little, adjusting his hold on Atsumu, but it jostles Atsumu leg and makes him groan from the pain. The groan sounds like a groan, though, which sends Atsumu’s mind down an indecent road, which makes him even more embarrassed.
He quickly speaks up, lest Kita get indecent thoughts too. “That hurt,” he complains (explains the groan).
“Sorry, Atsumu.” He sounds so sincere and it makes Atsumu’s heart warm. It’s fucking lovely. He hates it. He loves it.
He presses his face further into Kita’s neck and allows himself to be carried to the trainer’s office and exam room.
When they get to the door, Kita clears his throat. “Couldya knock on the door for me, Atsumu?”
Ah.
Right.
Because Kita’s hands are full of Atsumu right now.
Atsumu’s face is blazing as he reaches out and knocks on the door, quickly getting a response to come in. Atsumu turns the doorknob and Kita moves forward into the room.
“How can I— what happened?!” The trainer is on his feet quickly and ushering Kita to an exam table to set Atsumu down.
“My leg. Just got a bruise, ‘s all,” Atsumu explains as Kita sets him down.
He’s quick an efficient in transferring Atsumu to the table, but Atsumu can’t help but feel every drag of Kita’s hands as he unwinds his arms from around him. It almost feels like they’re moving in slow motion. Lingering.
It’s probably all in his head.
But Kita stays close to the side of the table as the trainer frowns and gently moves Atsumu’s leg, shifting the material of his shorts hem to see his thigh, examining the bruise. Atsumu’s not even paying attention, distracted by how close Kita is standing.
Then a poke to his thigh has him hissing like a feral cat, glaring at the trainer.
“Sorry, sorry,” the trainer says. He’s only touched the very edge of the bruise. His eyebrows drawn down and mouth a tight line.
Uh oh.
That’s not good.
“No, it’s not,” the trainer says.
Oh. Did he say that out loud?
“Yes, ya did,” Kita answers, lips twitching.
Amused.
He’s amused!
Atsumu almost got a smile out of Kita!
“I think we should go to the hospital and check for a bone fracture,” the trainer eventually says and Atsumu pales, his insides going cold.
“What?! It’s not that bad!” he protests. “It was just a kick from Samu and Akagi-senpai. Just a bruise!”
“It was caused by a kick? Well it was forceful enough to cause muscle shock and cramping; it could very well have been hard enough to cause a fracture. I’d rather be safe than sorry. Go to the hospital and get it x-rayed. If it’s not a fracture, then it’s likely just deep bruising. You’ll be back at practice in a few days—”
“What! You think I need to sit out for a few days?!” Atsumu was shouting, more than alarmed. He was panicking. The fuck was happening? It was just a stupid bruise! He couldn’t have gotten so badly injured he couldn’t play volleyball. Not Atsumu. He didn’t get sick, he didn’t get injured, he didn’t allow anything to prevent him from playing volleyball.
But apparently, his roughhousing activities with his brother had gone too far this time.
“I’ll go with you, Atsumu,” Kita said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder, halting his inner rant. But he was still panicking, having an inner meltdown.
“I’ll let Kurosu know and then drive you and Kita-san to the hospital. And we’ll have to inform you parents, too.” The trainer quickly left.
Atsumu sat in stunned silence, not even noticing right away that Kita’s hand had slid to the back of his neck and was gripping firmly, comforting. He only noticed when that hand started pressing and gripping rhythmically, like a massage.
He looked at Kita, a little overwhelmed and confused by the whole situation.
The captain met his eyes steadily, calmly. “Stop worrying, what’s done is done. You’ll have your leg looked at and you’ll do what the doctors and trainer tell you, and you’ll be playing volleyball again soon. Just not today. No use worrying when we don’t even know everything yet. Your leg might be just fine, and if it’s not, then it will be.” He leaned in, making sure Atsumu entire being was focused on him as he said, “You’ll be just fine, Atsumu.”
Atsumu believed him.
~~~
Kita gave Atsumu his gloves before they left the school gym to get in the trainer’s car to drive to the hospital. They were warm and soft and Atsumu fixated on them the whole drive to the hospital. He sat in the back of the car while Kita and the trainer sat up front; he had the whole back seat to stretch his leg out on.
The hospital wasn’t busy, the emergency room only had a few people waiting and none of them looked grievously injured. Nothing like on television or movies. Nothing dramatic. Atsumu was a little disappointed. It seemed like he was the most dramatic patient, being carried in by his captain since he couldn’t walk.
The trainer had been a little bemused when Kita just picked Atsumu up, but seeing as the same scenario had played out while getting to the car in the first place, he didn’t try to offer to help carry Atsumu. He went ahead and got Atsumu checked in at the desk.
Kita went to a chair in the waiting room and sat down.
Atsumu was on his lap.
Was this real life? Was he dreaming? Was this a nightmare or some fucked up fantasy?
He wasn’t sure if he should protest. He wanted, but also did not want, to sit in Kita’s lap. It was embarrassing. It was a dream come true.
Unless he was hallucinating or asleep, then it wasn’t actually happening in real life.
But then a nurse came and called his name and Kita stood up and, yep, this was real. The pain in his leg was extremely fucking real.
Two hours later, Atsumu did not have a fracture bone, just a third degree bruise that would limit his physical activity for three to four days and required icing, elevation, and rest.
He was offered crutches. Kita walked beside him out of the hospital.
He sat next to him in the back of the car.
Atsumu tried to give his captain his gloves back when the trainer pulled up to Atsumu’s house to drop him off before taking Kita back to the school to get his things.
“Keep them,” Kita said, reaching to grab Atsumu’s wrist in a reassuring hold, refusing the gloves. “It’s winter. Ya need ta protect yer hands from the cold, Atsumu.”
His hold tightened briefly around Atsumu’s wrist, before he let go, fingers dragging over the sensitive skin of Atsumu’s inner wrist, leaving a burning tingle in their wake.
Kita was looking at him so intently, like he was trying to say more without actually saying it.
Atsumu didn’t know what that was, but he nodded as if he understood. “Thank you senpai. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”