Archive of Our Own

It’s February, and Bokuto is still very single.

They're all in the gym lounge when he makes this very important announcement. Hinata’s sitting next to Bokuto on the round table, looking very concerned over his friend’s dilemma, Atsumu’s reclining on the couch, feet propped up on one of the arms and a packet of chips on his chest, and Sakusa is standing by the door, claiming he’s about to leave for the past ten minutes but never actually reaching out for the door handle to do so. The rest of the team was busy doing... whatever a professional volleyball team does during the day.

It’s a big deal, really, because Valentine’s Day is Bokuto’s third favourite holiday. New Years is his second, since there was no greater joy as a kid than receiving a generous sum of money from his grandparents that would all be spent on ice-cream for him and his sisters the very next day, something he (apparently) doesn’t qualify for anymore, but that’s besides the point. The way Bokuto sees it, a day dedicated to acknowledging the people he loves while simultaneously receiving delicious boxes of homemade chocolate, paired with long letters of kind words – about his cool hair and his big muscles and how being both the ace and the captain of a team is totally hot – from all four corners of the room is basically the closest thing to his birthday, which, naturally, with the balloons and the birthday cakes, is his first favourite holiday.

However, that was back when Bokuto was just an eighteen year old child. Merely anything more than a simple-minded hunk that smiled real big and hit a ball real good. Now, he’s a simple-minded hunk that smiles real big, hits a ball real good and has a real awesome team that unconditionally supports him through all his endeavours.

“I will not be supporting your attempt at playing Cupid.”

Well, almost.

“Kiyoooomiii!” Bokuto whines, and he can call him that since they’ve been playing together for so long now – Sakusa’s nose doesn’t crinkle under his mask anymore. “I’d be the best Cupid ever!”

“That is not the point of contention here,” Sakusa says, and notices when Bokuto smiles hopefully. “And that does not mean I think you’d be the best Cupid ever, either.”

Bokuto promptly deflates.

“I think you would be, Bokuto-san!” Hinata comes to his rescue. His smile is so infectious, Bokuto returns it even brighter.

“Yeah, I would be!”

“Are you gonna cosplay as Cupid?” Atsumu muses through a mouthful of chips.

Bokuto brings his hand up to his chin and thinks. “I’d look good with wings.”

Hinata agrees with a hum, copying Bokuto's movement. “Not sure about the diaper, though…”

“Why the hell not? He’s got the legs for it,” Atsumu counters.

“That’s true,” Bokuto says thoughtfully.

“Okay, stop.” Sakusa snaps. “Hinata, don’t encourage him. Bokuto, don’t intrude on people's personal relationships. Miya, don’t.”

“It’s not intruding,” Bokuto says at the same time Atsumu yells “hey!!”

Sakusa focuses his glare on Bokuto. “What is it, then?”

It becomes a waiting game, which is a little weird paired with the silence of the room – save for Atsumu’s loud chewing; Bokuto is kind of used to it by now that it drones on in the background, like a really bad white noise ASMR – but Bokuto doesn’t know a word for caring about your friends and wanting them to be in a relationship because you’re still so single that you have to go to brunch by yourself on Sundays since everyone else is busy, so taking that initiative for them, without intruding, so he blinks.

Sakusa looks like he might tear out his own hair, and then Bokuto’s. Might've been terrifying if Bokuto wasn't already so used to it, hah.

“Bokuto, you are one of the last people I would want meddling with my love life,” he insists – pretty strongly for someone who swore off of involving himself in any team antics that don’t involve Aran’s supervision.

“What love life?” Atsumu barks a laugh before Bokuto can react. “What’s he gonna do, take yer lint-roller away?”

The small chuckle that escapes Hinata is shut down as quickly as it lasts when Sakusa switches his gaze over to him.

“Hilarious. You could use a lint-roller, Miya,” Sakusa says, looking back at the crumbs collecting on Atsumu's shirt.

“I’ll use yours.”

“You most definitely will not.”

“Chill, I’m not a fuckin' cat. Shouyou-kun found it funny,” Atsumu shrugs before filling his black hole of a mouth with more chips.

“You could breathe next to Hinata and he would find it funny,” Sakusa says.

“That’s not true!” Atsumu argues, but Hinata’s laughing again and he doesn’t stop when confronted with a glare – from Atsumu this time. Sakusa looks pleased. “Fix yer damn face, Omi-kun, I’m the funniest guy on the team—fix yer face!”

Then Sakusa’s grinning a little and Hinata’s still laughing and Atsumu’s trying to tell them that he’s funny as fuck, okay?! And sure, having fun is great and all but Bokuto is still single and doesn’t have any plans for Valentine’s Day. This meeting was supposed to be about him, even if only Hinata and Atsumu showed up. (Sakusa had walked in accidentally and was not allowed to leave when he turned right back around.)

“Well,” Bokuto says loudly. It does the job, all attention goes back to him. “I have to find something to do on Valentine’s Day,” because being alone on the day of love is depressing, Bokuto doesn’t even want to think about it. “And since I don’t have a date, I'll set someone else up on one.”

“I think that’s a great idea, Bokuto-san! And very considerate,” Hinata beams.

“I agree,” Atsumu says, “you can start with Mr Personality of a Wet Wipe over here and tell him how to replace the stick up his ass with something more useful.”

“That’s… gross,” Sakusa just sounds exasperated. “Listen, Bokuto, have you maybe tried setting yourself up on a date? That way, no one has to be subject to your…” He pauses to think. “You.”

“Yeah, Bokkun,” Atsumu sits up straight, crumbs and packet of chips littering his lap. “Yer a handsome guy, why don’t ya entertain yerself for a change?”

The truth is, Bokuto did try; he posted a mirror selfie on his Instagram story after he was done in the gym and only got one reply from Kuroo saying ‘get them gainz bro’. He took it down promptly after. Certain things in life you have to accept as they come: this year, he is single for Valentine’s Day.

“I did try!”

Sakusa doesn’t look convinced. Nor Atsumu. Not even Hinata. They all have some variation of doubt etched into their varying expressions.

In convenient, almost movie-like timing (not that surprising – Bokuto, the main character? No duh) the door opens and Ushijima enters the room big and burly and stoic and objectively attractive.

“Good morning,” he nods, moving in big and burly and stoic movements towards the fridge.

“Waka-chan,” Atsumu greets.

“Wakatoshi-kun,” Sakusa greets harder.

“Doyouwannabemyvalentinesdate,” Bokuto greets the hardest.

“Pardon?”

“Well, I tried, I really did,” Bokuto jumps out of his seat and Hinata does the same on instinct. “Off we go, Hinata, we have important matters to attend to!”

The bachelors are hopeless.

Out of the brief survey Bokuto conducted (a quick scan of his teammates on court, and a peek inside the med unit where Iwaizumi only looked up from the game replay on his phone to ask if Kageyama seemed to limp for a quarter-of-a-millisecond after his serve), only a small handful are eligible to make something decent out of.

“Last time I went on a date? S’pose it’s been a while,” Aran laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “Eh, I’ll be honest, I don’t really remember.”

In the little notebook Bokuto had bought him back in highschool – it had no use back then, so it’s practically as good as new, save for a few doodles. He kept it because of the little owls on each corner of the page – he draws a small tick next to Aran’s name.

“What’s something you’re really good at doing?” Bokuto asks very seriously.

Aran stops dribbling the volleyball and tucks it beneath his armpit, looks to the side as he thinks.

“Does volleyball count?”

Bokuto looks over at Hinata. Hinata shakes his head, no. 

Bokuto shakes his head. No.

“Something more unique, Ojiro-san,” Hinata says.

“Cooking?” Aran shrugs meekly. “Or jokes! I’m funny.” His tone is a little hesitant.

“Osamu-kun cooks,” Sakusa materializes from nothingness to say. “And he’s funny.”

Aran sighs.

“This isn’t about Myaa-sam!” Bokuto interjects, then clamps his mouth shut as he looks over at Hinata, contemplative. Their brains pair successfully through Bluetooth, Hinata mirrors Bokuto’s expression in realisation. “Though now that you mention it—”

“Actually this isn’t about Osamu-kun. Aran – Aran is patient, like a good father,” Sakusa blurts.

It goes awfully quiet, Bokuto is nauseated by the tension.

“You’re jumping like, eighty steps here, Omi-omi,” Bokuto hides his face between the pages of the notebook, embarrassed. He pushes it up to sit on his head like a roof and frowns. Nothing new, Sakusa is blunt and unapologetic, but it's not exactly helpful for the current cause. “You’ll scare people off, being so forward.”

“It’s a red flag to ask about kids on the first date,” Hinata says matter-of-factly, a lopsided smile swelling one of his cheeks. It’s likely what makes Aran laugh, but Bokuto doesn’t address it. This isn't a joke.

“I wasn’t—”

“What’s this for, anyway?” Aran finally asks.

Sakusa’s face is pink, which actually suits him very well, Bokuto thinks. But then he furrows his brows a little and grabs one of the volleyballs from the basket with unnecessary exertion.

“You should all be practicing,” he says, tone back to Sakusa-surly, before quickly striding back to the court.

Bokuto grabs the notebook off his head and scribbles beside Aran’s name ‘dad’ with a smiley face. He has to at least take note of it, Sakusa is often right.

“Next question. If you won a million yen, how would you spend it?”

“Invest it?” Aran says. His eyes search Bokuto’s face, as if to find traces of the right answer. Lucky for him, there are no right answers – only ones that are fun, or ones that Sakusa would find impressive. 

“So if I gave you a million yen right here, right now, all you’d do is invest it?” Bokuto asks. No right answers, but also here's another shot to get it right.

“What’s this for? I could get a snack in a bit, I guess.”

Likes snacks, Bokuto writes.

“Yes or no: are you a romantic?” Hinata asks casually. He's remembered most of the questions over the days that Bokuto compiled them, as in, went on Google and copy pasted an article with 99 questions to ask on a first date. Good enough.

“What in the—what’re these questions?!” Aran looks vaguely horrified and absolutely flustered.

“We’re going to set you up on a blind date, Ojiro-san!” Hinata crows, hands thrown in the air in a ‘ta-daaa’ motion.

Bokuto adds on as fast as he can: “for Valentine’s Day. It’s not just random, obviously. I’m Cupid and you’re the lovable bachelor.” His disciple is the greatest one in the world, but yet to learn subtlety… oh well, with time.

“I’m Cupid’s helper,” Hinata says, as though it’s one of the most important titles he can hold.

Aran looks at the two of them silently for a moment, then his lips split into a toothy grin. This warms Bokuto – if he wasn’t such a professional, he would have been Cupid on himself at that moment. Aran’s laugh is a melodious thing.

“And I thought the twins were the most…” Aran’s words trickle off into small chuckles until he’s somewhat collected himself and finally says, not unkindly, “you both are ridiculous. I appreciate it, I really do, but I’m out of town that weekend!”

Bokuto blinks.

Hinata blinks too.

“So, I won’t be able to attend the date—“

Bokuto slams his notebook shut with one hand and prepares to stalk off, Sakusa-surly style.

“Message received, Aran-kun.”

“Seriously, that looks like he’s limping, right?”

Iwaizumi shoves the phone right into Bokuto and Hinata’s faces, arm ramrod straight. It’s hardly visible from a normal distance, so Bokuto leans in and Hinata does the same, allowing their heads to gently knock into each other and keeping them there as they squint to focus.

Aside from learning that he probably needs glasses, Bokuto doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary, the little Kageyama on the screen walks and moves just like big, normal sized Kageyama does. He decides to check with Hinata just in case – peer evaluation for credibility – and is met with wide eyes and a shrug. True that.

“Yeah, I think I saw a… uh,” Hinata shifts his weight onto his other foot. “A limp.”

“Right!” Iwaizumi scoffs and brings the phone to his line of vision again, subtly shaking his head as he taps the screen to rewind the clip. “He should get that checked…”

“By you?” Bokuto asks, flipping his notebook open. He clicks his mechanical pencil a few times and writes Iwaizumi’s name on the top of a new page.

“What?”

“He should get that checked by you,” Bokuto repeats, clicking the pencil two more times.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi nods, like it’s just dawned on him that– “that’s my job.”

“I see. And where did you grow up?”

Iwaizumi tilts his head and places his phone on the desk behind him. “Miyagi. Why? You know this. Shouldn’t you guys be training?”

It’s making conversation. It’s transitioning conversation into more valuable matters, reclaiming dominance! Bokuto’s the one asking questions here, ya hear?

“You know what we don’t know, Iwaizumi-san,” Hinata tucks his hands behind his back and sways on the balls of his feet. “Your favourite song.”

A lot of people answer to Hinata without question. Iwaizumi is only sometimes one of those people. He narrows his eyes.

“What are you planning?”

“What are you planning on travelling to next?” Bokuto crinkles his nose, scratches his eyebrow, and clears his throat. “Where.”

Iwaizumi eyes him even more warily, which, fair enough.

“Why?”

“C’mon, Iwaizumi-saaaan,” Hinata sings, now swaying between his feet playfully. “What’s your ideal date?” Bokuto starts swaying a little with him, because it looks fun, and what do you know – it works like a charm. Iwaizumi still looks suspicious, but the corners of his eyes crinkle and although the smile on his lips is small, it's no less telling. 

He’s awfully handsome. Radiating. Probably just the light fixture above him. Bokuto is absolutely incredible at picking out bachelors. Maybe next time he’ll make the dating pool even better and throw himself in there, too.

“Is this an interview?”

“Mmm, kinda,” Hinata teases, wearing a bright grin that's just short of being topped off with a wink.

“I don’t know what you’re going to do with that information, it's highly classified, so, skip,” Iwaizumi crosses his arms and leans his back against the desk, waiting.

Bokuto looks down at his notebook and searches for the next question. “What’s your favourite book?”

In an instant, Iwaizumi sits up straight, starry eyed and all tension between his eyebrows gone.

“Same one since highschool! Honestly, if it wasn’t for Takashi Utsui, I wouldn’t even be here right n–”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Kageyama’s head suddenly pops in through the doorway. His body follows after checking the room and he stands very politely by the entrance, like a toothpick. It's impressive how still he can stand. “Iwaizumi-san, when would you be free? I might be injured, Miya-san told me I was limping.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes scatter from Kageyama’s face, to his knee, back to his face, to Bokuto, Hinata, then back to Kageyama, and he swallows.

“I—now is fine, Kageyama,” Iwaizumi stutters and gestures towards the exam table. “Take a seat, they’re just asking some questions—”

The thump of the notebook slamming shut cuts Iwaizumi off.

“Proceed with your duties. Interview conducted and officially over,” Bokuto announces very formally, tucking his pencil behind his ear. “I’ve heard enough.”

“Huh?” Hinata and Iwaizumi chorus.

“Thanks for your time, Iwa-chan, but we have very important matters to attend to,” Bokuto says, sounding as apologetic as he can. He beckons Hinata towards the door with his chin. “Hinata.”

They walk out of the room without another word, Hinata looking back over his shoulder then at Bokuto a few times, and then, when he finally pads a few steps past Bokuto, asks:

“What was wrong with Iwaizumi-san?”

Bokuto sighs. There’s so much he's yet to learn.

“There are some things that not even Cupid should interfere with, Shouyou-kun,” he says. “Ushijima’s dad is in California.”

“Is this about the blind date thing?” Yaku asks in retaliation.

In Bokuto’s defense, Hinata was the one who recommended Yaku because ‘his receives are incredible, Bokuto-san! And he knows Russian. He’s like, the coolest person ever!’ And Bokuto wrote Yaku’s name in small letters. Bokuto knows how to say ‘My name is Koutarou’ in French and no one has ever made a big deal about that.

“What blind date thing?” Hoshiumi jumps to ask, eyes turned into slits.

“Who’s goin’ on a date?” Hakuba joins. They all crowd around Bokuto and Hinata. Hakuba is so stupidly tall he barely has to tip his head to look at the new page on the notebook. There's no point in trying to hide it. “Why do you have Kourai-kun’s name in a book?”

“You’ve got my name in that book?” Hoshiumi prances to grab it and Bokuto just barely manages to hold it up in time. It feels a little mean – wholly unintentional – but he also knows Hoshiumi could easily snatch it if he wanted to, so he shuts it and tucks it in his waistband, where he hopes Hoshiumi won't try again.

Hakuba falls into a fit of raucous laughter. “Look at your face, you’re so excited! ‘Course they don’t have your name in the book.”

“What’s the book for?” Yaku asks over more of Hakuba’s laughter. Hoshiumi is pouting angrily whilst staring at Bokuto's hip.

This is by far the worst interview Bokuto has ever conducted. He’s barely managed to get a question in. Akaashi would be so disappointed, which is why Akaashi will never hear about it, but the one in his head is giving him a very stern look.

“For answers,” Hinata says.

Yaku seems curious enough to accept, and nods once in a start whenever type of way.

Not even a beat passes for Bokuto to inhale before Hinata’s asking a question: “How do you say ‘You’re so cool’ in Russian?”

“Ti takoy klassni,” Yaku’s lips move around the words smugly.

Hinata gasps in awe. “Ti takoy klassni, Yaku-san!” The accent is nowhere near as good, but the effort is there. “How do you say ‘I like your receives’ in Russian?”

“Mne nravitsya tvoye preyomy.”

Hinata, Hoshiumi, and Hakuba are all a horrible choir of bad pronunciation and ‘wait, how do you say it again’s. If Bokuto wasn’t such a professional that took pride in his career, he would join in, but he is, so he does his very professional job of asking questions.

“How do you say, ‘we have to go’ in Russian?”

“Mi dolzhny idti,” Yaku says.

“Okay,” Bokuto sniffs. “Well. That.”

Bokuto is mentally, physically, and emotionally drained by the time he returns to the gym lounge, back to the same seat where all of this started. He feels like Cupid but without the wings or the arrow of love or the cuteness. The diaper metaphorically remains but it feels like an adult diaper that he had to buy himself, so ultimately less cool, no matter how good his legs might look in his head. He slumps into the chair then drops his head onto the table with a heavy sigh. Who knew trying to find love could be so exhausting.

“It’s hopeless, Hinata. Aran’s not gonna be in town, Iwaizumi’s in love with someone in another continent, Yaku only speaks Russian, I’m the worst Cupid ever.”

“That’s not true at all, Bokuto-san!” Hinata grabs the notebook and flips through to the first page, where they had written all the names of their teammates and circled the ones most dateable. “Look, we could have a whole list of people to get through!”

“They’re not dateable,” Bokuto whines. It matches the sound that comes from the door behind them.

“Sakusa-san is dateable,” Hinata yelps, pointing at the water cooler where Sakusa freezes, like he just saw a wet towel on his side of the bench, or witnessed someone throw away an unused lint roller.

Heh. He’ll have to tell Atsumu about that one.

“I’m not,” Sakusa scolds. “Never say that again.”

“I’m only being honest,” Hinata says warmly. “We’d have the cleanest house.”

“Stop it.”

“I’d buy you all the umeboshi in the world,” Hinata lays it on thick.

“I hate umeboshi.”

Something dreadful blooms in Bokuto’s chest and he releases it with a longer groan, muffled by the surface of the table. Sakusa and Hinata stop their… bickering, one-sided fake flirting, procrastinating from training and acting as Cupid’s helper aka disciple aka support system, and the noise replaces itself with something – some one louder.

“We havin’ a party?” Atsumu enters the room like it's the first time he’s ever seen it.

“Yes, you weren’t invited,” Sakusa says.

“Wrong. I am the party,” Atsumu taunts, leaning his arm on the water cooler. Sakusa takes a few steps away from it and it makes Atsumu snicker. “Shouldn’t we be practicing?”

“Yes, we should be." Sakusa looks directly at Bokuto.

“I can’t. Not today,” Bokuto sighs.

Sakusa’s face hardens. “What does that mean, Bokuto.” It hardly sounds like a question, and for whatever reason, Bokuto is once again reminded of how long they’ve been playing together.

“I suck, Omi-kun,” that might have possibly been a whimper, which would be embarrassing if not for the bigger problem at hand. “I’m not Cupid at all.”

“So yer just a man-baby wearin’ adult diapers,” Atsumu thinks is a good idea to say. Bokuto melts into the table. Maybe if he merges into it, he can actually be useful for, like, table related stuff. 

“What happened?” Sakusa asks, flicking his gaze directly at Hinata. His voice has gone a little softer. Bokuto likes it, it’s when Sakusa is going to be nice, in his own, Sakusa-sympathetic way.

“Aran’s not gonna be in town, Iwaizumi’s crush is in California, and Yaku is really good at Russian,” Hinata recounts. Bokuto lets out another strained sigh. “Yaku only speaks Russian, sorry.”

Sakusa stares at them. His expression is unreadable, Bokuto’s vision is mostly blurred with his cheek so pressed up against the table, but it’s hard to miss Sakusa step closer beside Bokuto and pull the notebook from Hinata. As he reads through it with furrowed eyebrows (his face is endearingly unimpressed when he sees the star and smiley face next to his name), Atsumu decides to talk again, over the gurgling of the water cooler while he fills up his bottle.

“Aren’t you just tryna get two people to fuck?” He asks, a little contemptuous. “How’s that difficult? Have ya seen this team?”

“What!” Bokuto yells. “This is so much more than that! I’m trying to build a strong, long, lasting relationship here. Where they respect and care for each other unconditionally, find enjoyment in each other's silent company, in their laughter – Pride! In each other's accomplishments, feel the pain together in their failures. A forever thing – bound , by fate, by the laws of nature, of attraction, stars, suns, and planets aligned all for them to have made every decision that destined them to be together. Soulmates, Tsum-Tsum, I’m trying to find soulmates.”

“For someone else,” Sakusa says.

“For someone else,” Bokuto confirms.

“I see.”

Bokuto’s monologue seems to have done little to sway any of them. Sakusa mostly looks like he’s trying to figure out how the stars, suns, and planets aligned for the destiny of his decisions to bring him here, to this very moment. But Atsumu looks not the slightest bit impressed. He walks over, beside Sakusa, and leans his hands on the table, pulling the notebook in front of him. He stops shuffling when his eye catches something.

“Why’s my name the only one crossed out?”

“Undateable,” Bokuto sighs.

“What, like, completely? ” Atsumu scoffs. “Who the fuck wants to date Hoshiumi?! After his haircut?! And Yaku’s only two personality traits are like, knowing Russian and being short!”

“And, like, I know French!” Bokuto throws his hands out in front of him. “Jam-apple Koutarou!”

"He also dresses really well," Hinata adds, unprompted. Bokuto and Atsumu's faces react not very nicely to that.

Sakusa pulls the notebook back, eyebrows still furrowed, like he's stuck between a particularly difficult decision, then huffs from his nose.

“Suna,” he proposes reluctantly. “He seems…”

“What, he seems what.” The name captures Atsumu’s attention instantly. “He seems what? Say it, Omi-kun. He seeeeems…”

Sakusa glares.

“Hhhhhh…”

Sakusa glares even harder. Bad choice, way to egg Atsumu on.

“Horny!” Atsumu exclaims. “Omi-Omi thinks Rin is horny and easy to set up.”

Hinata and Bokuto both give Sakusa a somewhat reassuring look.

“Is he?” Sakusa asks, though it sounds like it truly pains him to ask. “You went to highschool with him.”

Atsumu chews on his top lip as he thinks, and then shrugs, yeah. Sakusa rolls his eyes.

“Okay, well, I know Motoya is…” Sakusa holds out for a moment, meeting different eyes as he waits for his sentence to be continued as it crudely was once before, then, with an even more pained expression: “single.”

“Fuckin’ ew!” Atsumu barks, and it’s far from the tone he uses when he calls Sakusa’s hits gross. “You wingman for yer cousin?”

“I take it you don’t for your brother.”

“Fuck no,” Atsumu shakes his head furiously.

“Cool.”

“Cool?! ”

“Omi-kun, you mean it?” Bokuto lifts his head from the table. His face kind of aches but he smiles really big anyway – smiles even bigger when Sakusa doesn’t frown at him. Sakusa-smile! (Tiny, but there. Kind of.) “You’ll help me with the Cupid stuff?”

Sakusa-scowl.

“I never said I’d help. I’m just saying. They’re there. They’re single. They’re together all the time. It’s viable.”

“You’re so nice, Sakusa-san!” Hinata says fondly.

“Stop.”

“Boys,” Bokuto stands up on his chair, placing one foot on the table for balance. Sakusa does that freeze-stare thing again, looks at Bokuto like he just put his gym shoe on the surface Sakusa eats from. “Men,” Bokuto declares, a fist on his chest. “We have important matters to attend to.”

“After practice,” Hinata adds in a small voice, glancing over at Sakusa, whose eyes are so wide they might go dry.

“After practice!” Bokuto agrees, and jumps, thrusting one foot off the table and landing right in front of the door gracefully. He could just about cartwheel right back into the gym if there was enough space.

“How… How many times has he done that,” Sakusa’s voice can be heard from behind him, wobbly.

“Enough that it makes me laugh when ya eat,” Atsumu hums. “Why’d’ya think I’m always on the couch?”

It doesn’t help that Bokuto isn’t that close with Suna.

Komori, on the other hand, is cool, so it doesn’t matter if they’re not close. He was cool on the court through highschool, cool outside of it too. Friendly and funny and the number one libero in the nation, all things that made Bokuto want to go out of his way to befriend him, but Sakusa was always there – as a sworn rival, not as one of his best friends.

(Bokuto also knows now, as one of his best friends, that Sakusa is one of the weirdest people he’s ever met, and if he’d known that before, he would’ve spent more time trying to befriend him too.)

“What, you’re saying it’s my fault? That you couldn’t talk to me without vowing revenge?” Sakusa scoffs the next day at Bokuto’s justification for why he needs their help. Atsumu just shrugs, squirting water into his mouth messily.

“Sure, whatever,” Atsumu wipes his mouth with his wrist. “Y’want me to call him over—? RIN! RIN GET OVER HERE! OI! RIN!”

Rin, who Bokuto still isn’t that close with, has funny hair and a constant flat look on his face. He is also cool, Bokuto thinks, but in a completely different way to Komori. Not the approachable kind of cool, you want to be approached by Suna, have him show you the new trending meme on his phone. It’s a rite of passage for the friendship, really, and Bokuto’s still in the bottom tier.

“You’re so loud,” is the first thing Suna says when he moseys over. “What.” Is the second. “Did I forget my AirPods at your place?” Is the third. He’s looking at Sakusa.

“I don’t know, I don’t check,” Sakusa responds. “Can you pick up after yourself, I’m not a housemaid.”

Suna shrugs, and it eases the tension in Sakusa’s shoulders. They're communicating.

“Komori’s hot, right?” Atsumu attacks.

Suna gives Atsumu a look of disgust, and Bokuto’s surprised to see Suna’s face move so much.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Suna eyes whip over to Sakusa, and his expression changes lightning-fast into something Atsumu might make. “Komori’s super hot.”

“Right?” Atsumu laughs, and Suna joins in with his own little shoulder-shaking titters.

“We have practice,” Sakusa says loudly, looking at Bokuto with furrowed brows, and Sakusa-surly’s away.

“Yeah, I’d rather not do laps again,” Suna snorts. Bokuto huffs a laugh, because he, too, hates laps, and he wants to get along with Suna if he wants to get promoted in his new job. “You’re always doing laps.”

“Me?” Bokuto asks, eyebrows raised up to his hairline.

“Yeah, it’s like you try to get in trouble,” Suna grins, and Bokuto can’t decide if it’s a good or bad thing.

“Ya like bad boys?” Atsumu asks eagerly. “Komori’s the worst, absolute worst. Always getting himself in trouble.”

“You obsessed with Komori now?” Suna grabs one of the volleyballs that rolled near his foot and tucks his infamous phone in his pocket. “Pepper with me, or else you’ll go partner up with Komori.” It’s overly familiar, Bokuto can tell he’s teasing.

“No!”

Suna pauses, staring at Bokuto with an eyebrow raised. So he embarrassed himself, such things happen in the name of love (for someone else (for Suna, so he can look at Bokuto weirdly all he wants!))

“Okay—”

“Tsum-Tsum’s my partner,” Bokuto latches over Atsumu’s shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s… fine—”

“I always practice with him.” A lie, also necessary in the name of love. “No one’s with Komori, go practice with him.”

“Huh? Hoshiumi’s usually with Komori—”

“No he’s not. See,” Bokuto points.

Suna and Atsumu look over to Komori, who’s dribbling a ball a few feet away from a struggling Hoshiumi. One of Hoshiumi's arms is in Hinata’s tight grasp, because he’s doing his job, and the other arm in Hakuba’s, because he's Hakuba. 

“But I wanna practice with you, Hoshiumi-san!” Hinata insists.

“Me too!” Hakuba guffaws. “C’mon, Kourai-kun!”

“What am I actually looking at right now,” Suna quickly pulls out his phone from his pocket and starts recording.

It’s then that Komori decides to look over and notices the three huddled together on their side of the gym. Bokuto see’s Komori’s mouth open in a wide smile and wave in Suna’s direction, Suna waves back with his free hand, the corner of his lip twitching upwards into what could possibly be the first sincere reaction to come out of Suna that Bokuto’s ever seen.

“See. Komori’s free,” Bokuto’s breath catches in his throat. This really is the start of a budding romance.

“God, Bokkun, don’t say it like he died,” Atsumu mutters.

“You don’t have to be jealous, Tsum-Tsum. I’m still your partner,” Bokuto wraps an arm around Atsumu’s shoulders and squeezes him into a side hug.

“Suna can you go fuckin’ partner up with Komori already,” Atsumu huffs, wiggling out of Bokuto’s grasp but doing little to step away. “Hoshiumi looks like he’s about to kill Shouyou-kun. And Hakuba”

“Thought your new obsession was Komori?” Suna puffs, tucking his phone away again.

“Thought your new obsession was Ko—fuck you,” Atsumu gives up on his mocking halfway when he notices Komori enter hearing-distance. Komori skips his last step and grabs the ball out of Suna’s hands. Is this what romance looks like?

“Hoshiumi has a partner,” Komori says matter-of-factly.

Hoshiumi has two partners, he’s that likeable. Even with that cold, screwed up look on his face, he receives each hit perfectly, and smacks the sets that go up to him extra hard. Hakuba is beyond entertained.

“Cute. He’s made new friends,” Suna nods.

Bokuto’s holding his breath. 

“Wanna be my partner?”

“Sure,” Suna says. Simple as that.

Simple. As. That.

Bokuto is objectively the best Cupid ever. 

And then Atsumu has to go and ruin it.

“Komori,” he starts, and his smile makes Bokuto shudder beside him, relieved to not be on the receiving end. “I think Rin wants to take ya out or something, he was telling us about how hot he thinks ya are, wasn’t he, Bokkun?”

Bokuto blinks owlishly. “I—He—” This is all very off script.

“Only ‘cuz Atsumu brought it up, didn’t he, Bokkun,” Suna presses, and his smile makes Bokuto shudder twice as much. For all the times Samu tells him about their Kansai-hospitality, Atsumu and Suna sure are the worst examples.

More blinking. “He—I—”

“What about you, Bokuto,” Komori smiles and it's all the things good in the world, like a bucket of perfect-temperature water showering over him. “Anything nice to say about me?”

“You’re so cool!” Bokuto explodes, however many years of pent up admiration escaping him now, after he’s gotten through the wall that is Sakusa Kiyoomi and his unreadable mask. “We should hang out!”

“We should!” Komori rubs his arm – not awkwardly. Like he’s used to hearing it. “You’re really cool too, Bokuto-san!”

As simple as that. Suna snorts, rolls his eyes, and bumps Komori’s shoulder as he walks past him, snatching the ball back out of his hands. Komori follows him, the warm grin plastered on his face. Potentially permanently. There’s one on Bokuto as well. He really does have the most amazing team in the world.

“Great tactic, Bokkun,” Atsumu grumbles, and the gym smells like a gym again. “It really helped that ya practically asked Komori out.”

Oh, right. Cupid. No distractions. Bokuto knows he’s cool, he doesn’t need anyone to tell him that. Very unprofessional.

“Are we…” Bokuto trails off – Atsumu’s pouting. “Do you still wanna be my partne—”

“Bokuto! Miya!” They whip their heads towards the source of the voice, Hibarida Fuki standing in his full, Coach-like glory. Bokuto hears the beginning of Atsumu’s groan before Coach takes over again. “Stop with the chit-chat! Laps! Now!”

“Really helped!” Atsumu huffs again, as if he had nothing to do with it.

At least, even by the eighth lap, Suna and Komori still find the humor in the not-at-all discreet middle fingers Atsumu throws up at them.

In the name of love, Bokuto will happily run another ten.

In the name of love, Sakusa won’t even run one.

“Motoya and Aran-kun are still practicing in the gym,” Sakusa says, tucking the loops of his mask over both ears at once. “You can talk to him there. I’m going home.”

“Hinata’s stalling Suna as hard as he can right now by the entrance, and we don’t know if his memes are good enough to keep him waiting for any longer.” Bokuto clasps his hands together and begs. “You and Komori live together, it makes way more sense for you to ask!”

New plan – Bokuto devised, Hinata verified – if Suna and Komori walk home together, they’ll make a habit of it and eventually fall in love with each other a little bit more every single day. It’s full-proof and frankly, genius. Bokuto often walked home with Konoha back in highschool and it definitely didn’t make Konoha fall in love, but he started snorting at some of Bokuto’s jokes, which is close enough.

Sakusa shuts his locker and side-eyes Bokuto. It’s meant to push him away, and in any other context, it might’ve worked, but this is far too important. With the best of his abilities, Bokuto pouts and pinches his eyebrows up, like he’s seen the dogs do on Sakusa’s phone screen during bus rides to their away games. Sakusa scoffs.

“I just… I still haven’t gotten over you putting your dirty shoes on the table,” Sakusa shuts his eyes. “We – we eat on that table, Bokuto. We consume food on it.”

“Don’t know about you, Omi-kun, but I eat from a plate,” Bokuto says in an attempt to reassure Sakusa, who called his shoes dirty and not his feet.

Sakusa lets out a resigned kind of sigh.

“Wash the table.”

“I will!”

“And don’t do that again.”

“I won’t! No more shoes on the table.”

“Or feet.”

“Definitely no feet!”

“And don’t make that face again,” Sakusa says sternly. “Seriously. You are a grown man. An adult.”

“Aye!” Bokuto salutes.

Sakusa walks with his hands in his jacket pockets all the way back into the gym, the root of his nose scrunching and unscrunching every few seconds, or every time Bokuto looks over at him. Same difference.

Komori and Aran stay focused even when Sakusa and Bokuto are standing by the net, a few feet away from where the ball is in motion. Dig, set, spike. Dig, set, spike. Even as the two let out yelps and yowls for each time they put up a difficult ball, Bokuto becomes immersed in the clean pattern of the movement.

Sakusa interrupts, clears his throat.

“Motoya.”

“Yeah!” Komori calls back just as he receives a powerful hit perfectly. The sound is addicting, Bokuto wants to join in on the fun.

“I’d like to go home.”

“Yeah, alright!” Komori pants, whipping his head back to acknowledge Sakusa before resuming. “See you there!”

“I'd like to go home after you.”

Komori stretches out uncomfortably to just barely stop the ball from hitting the ground. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Bokkun, come join us!” Aran beckons over with a wave.

“Okay!”

“Not okay,” Sakusa hisses, throwing his foot in front of Bokuto’s to stop him from taking another step. “What is it with you and self-sabotaging your own plans?”

“Tsum-Tsum said he wouldn’t tell anyone!” Bokuto wails, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“He didn’t, Motoya mentioned you wanted to hang out.” Sakusa looks utterly dismayed.

Bokuto runs all ten fingers through his hair and drags his hands down his cheeks, squishing them together and smacking them once. Professionalism!

“Oh my god,” Sakusa mutters.

“Aran-kun! Komori-kun! We need you to stop your passing for a minute!” Bokuto yells.

The ball smacks onto Aran’s outstretched hand and falls flat onto the ground, bouncing a few times before Aran picks it up and wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his free hand. Komori uses the sleeve of his training shirt to do the same, turning around to face Sakusa properly this time.

“Everything okay?” Aran asks.

“Great,” Bokuto says cheerfully. “Omi-kun needs to go home.”

“Did you lose your keys?” Komori asks.

Sakusa frowns, taken-aback. “Of course not.”

“Oh,” Komori nods, then furrows his brows, somehow still managing to maintain a polite look on his face. “Thanks for letting me know?”

“Yup!” Bokuto nods, and looks over at Sakusa. Sakusa’s eyes are fixated on his fingers. “Omi-kun, you were gonna say something?”

Sakusa looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. His eyes speak a million words.

“We need to go home together.”

It’s at this point that Bokuto officially finds out everything he needs to know about Sakusa. The missing piece of the puzzle, his Achilles heel: He is god awful at lying.

“What,” Komori chuckles, though he’s very clearly confused. “Why?”

“Because Hinata’s meme reserve apparently isn’t very good—”

Bokuto laughs really loud, and really obnoxiously. “Hahaha—Oh, Omi-Omi! Ahaha, youuu… You! Come here, you…” 

There’s no word that comes to mind. Who cares. Bokuto lines his lips, looking between a very concerned Komori and Aran, and puts his hand on Sakusa’s shoulder, spinning the both of them around so they’re shielded by their backs. It’s a miracle Sakusa doesn’t speed-walk away at that chance.

“Omi-kun, you’re doing great, really, but discretion is your best friend, here.”

“You’re telling me,” Sakusa deadpans.

They both turn around again, Bokuto’s beaming because that's his natural state and there’s absolutely nothing unnatural about four men standing in the deafening silence of a huge gym as one of them struggles to talk to their own cousin.

“Just.” Sakusa puts his hands back into his pockets. “Just.” He takes them out, and looks over at Bokuto, who grins bigger. 

To be honest, Bokuto’s cheeks kinda hurt, and his lips are beginning to quiver. Sakusa needs to kindly hurry the hell up.

“Ugh,” Sakusa grimaces and taps his foot impatiently. “Just because. Because I want to, so can we just go home. Please.”

Komori tilts his head to the side and looks back at Aran.

“Seems urgent,” Aran shrugs. “We’ll just come in early tomorrow.”

That’s all Komori needs to hear. Bokuto helps Aran put a few of the other volleyballs away while Komori grabs his jacket from one of the benches and pulls it on haphazardly. From somewhat of a distance between them, Bokuto can tell Komori’s mouth is moving, and can only guess that, paired with the bemused expression on his face, he’s asking Sakusa why they have to head home together, as if they’re not independent adults with their own curfews. Well, in Bokuto’s valuable opinion, company should be appreciated at any age.

By the time they’ve packed up their gym bags – and Bokuto prays through Sakusa and Komori’s (luckily) brief conversation about whether or not Komori’s going to take a shower or he’s going to walk back home sweaty and smelling bad and looking messy – Suna and Hinata, much to Bokuto’s (and probably Hinata’s (and probably Suna’s. Hinata’s memes really aren’t that good)) relief, are still static, waiting by the door.

“Look who’s still here,” Suna says, leaning against the wall on his arm. Hinata’s still holding the phone in Suna’s direction when he notices Komori in the group. His eyes go wide and he hops backwards.

“Komori-san!”

“I thought you guys would’ve left by now.” Komori doesn’t leave Sakusa’s side.

Bokuto’s not sure why he expected some type of slow motion, running into each other’s arms reunion. He supposes it’s only been, at most, like, twenty minutes since they last saw each other, but the smile on Komori’s face as he’s talking to Suna is better than nothing.

“Hinata and I were having a discussion,” Suna says. His arms are crossed. “Feeding me new Atsumu intel for blackmail and whatnot, you know the drill.”

Good improv! Great, even! Bokuto gives Hinata a mental high-five, it’s super well deserved and the smack is louder than any thought Bokuto’s ever had. Awesome.

Komori laughs, then nods.

“Alright, Hinata, we’ll pick this conversation back up tomorrow,” Suna pushes off the wall and pulls his phone out, tapping the screen. “My Uber’s here.”

“Your Uber?” Sakusa and Bokuto speak together.

Suna looks at them like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s cold as fuck outside, you think I’m walking?”

Bokuto whips his head over to look at Komori frantically, who doesn’t seem phased at all.

“Can’t blame you,” Komori says. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“But—” Bokuto starts.

And with a small wave, Suna walks out the door.

“Anyway, c’mon, I wanna find out why we’re in such a rush,” Komori pats the back of Sakusa’s shoulder and pushes lightly to take a step forward. It gets them moving. “Imagining symptoms again? What's it this time, a migraine?” He jokes.

Bokuto gulps.

The fatal flaw of his new plan.

“Yeah,” Sakusa says quietly, his loud, million-words-per-second eyes catching Bokuto’s, freezing him. “Something like that.”

It wasn’t Sakusa supervised.

“It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow.”

Bokuto hums. “Yeah.”

“Rin and Komori still act like virgins around each other.”

Bokuto doesn’t know what that even means. “I know.”

“So who’s gonna fire ya as Cupid?” Atsumu asks. “Or are ya working as a freelancer—”

“I have an important announcement to make!” Bokuto finally shouts, much louder than what would be considered appropriate in a changing room with half-naked athletes. His metaphorical wings spread wider than ever before.

Bokuto steps up onto the bench. From somewhere near the door, a dark force with a grand, threatening aura takes over his space and physically forces his foot to step back down. His legs feel a little cold, but Sakusa is looking away now, so he can proceed.

Hinata squeaks. “Bokuto-san—!” 

“For Valentine's Day, we will be going out on a date, as a team!”

“Eh, Bokkun—”

“And the entire dinner is on me!”

“Bokuto—”

“Everyone must attend! With the exception of Aran-kun, because he’s away that weekend!”

“Dude—”

“Komori and Suna!” Bokuto exclaims their names like a television game show host, pointing at them directly. They're bug eyed, staring right back. “I’m expecting you two the most.”

Komori blinks. “Sure, yeah, that’s fine, but—”

“Your dick’s hanging out,” Suna points at the floor.

The floor, where Bokuto’s towel pools around his ankles.

“Bro, I’m telling you,” Atsumu tuts. “Invest. In. A diaper.”

Bokuto stares at the expanse of the small table he managed to reserve in some decent restaurant that wasn’t too popular with couples on the day of love.

Keyword, too popular. Most two-seaters were already taken and if it wasn’t for Bokuto’s insistence of “but if I don't eat well, my muscles won’t grow and I won’t be able to destroy the other teams” on the phone with the nice lady who stayed on line with him for twenty minutes, they might have not been able to hold a table at all. The things Bokuto does for love. The things love doesn’t do for Bokuto.

“Where is everybody?” Komori asks, tilting his head. His smile looks funny.

Unlike Hinata, Atsumu, Sakusa, and Bokuto, who are in on the New Plan – Bokuto devised, Hinata verified, Sakusa supervised, and Atsumu-doing-laps-proof-ified – Komori’s eyes often glance over at the door to see if anyone else is coming. To some extent, Bokuto is relieved knowing that no one is, given how cramped they are on the table already; Sakusa made Hinata and Bokuto shuffle away from him or else he would have refused the plan, and Bokuto didn’t want to risk anymore hiccups. It's incredible enough that Sakusa agreed to come out to begin with, something about 'damage control' and 'making sure you're not disrupting the peace' and 'because it's my cousin' and 'god, why am I doing this' and 'Bokuto if you shove that script in my face one more time I'm getting out of this car'. The truth is obvious, Sakusa is just as invested in this love story as Bokuto is.

“What, we’re not good enough for you?” Suna asks monotonously, tapping through his phone and occasionally giggling as he shows Komori another picture. Atsumu keeps leaning over to try and see what it is, but Suna hides the screen in his chest before he can, glancing over at Hinata with a cheeky grin.

Atsumu notices. "Why does Suna keep looking at ya—?"

“I’m having fun!" Hinata rushes through a mouthful of rice. He pushes the messy bowl up into Sakusa’s face, some of the pieces flying out onto the floor between them. “Sakusa-san, would you like to try some? It’s really good!”

Come to think of it, Bokuto can occasionally understand Sakusa’s need for space.

“Bokuto, Wakatoshi-kun is still asking where we are,” Sakusa mutters, thumbs hovering above the keyboard of his phone.

“Tell him we’re gonna be late – tell him we’re sick,” Bokuto whispers.

Sakusa looks mortified at the thought alone. “That's not realistic at all. Tell him yourself.”

If Bokuto could – well, he still wouldn’t, but especially now he can’t. Bokuto shifts his gaze over to his phone propped up on a glass of water closest to Hinata, looking over the rest of the table as Hinata tilts his bowl towards the camera.

“We should come here together, Ojiro-san, you need to try this!”

Aran nods through the screen, his voice lags a little with the pixelated movement.

“Looks great, Hinata-kun.” More lagging. “And blocky.”

“Is that really necessary?” Sakusa narrows his eyes at Bokuto again.

"You trust it when he's here, I did it for you." Bokuto says sympathetically, even pouts for extra effect. “And he’s the only one out of town on the day of love, Omi-kun.”

“And you choose to curse him anyway,” Sakusa shakes his head in disapproval and audibly exhales when Hinata picks up Bokuto’s phone to start showing FaceTime-Aran what everybody decided to have for dinner.

“How is my food still not here?” Atsumu calls out, angling his head slightly towards where their waiter is standing pin-straight.

“You ordered last,” Komori reminds him.

“And you took like, ten minutes more than the rest of us trying to decide on what to eat,” Suna adds.

“And you took like ten more minutes—no one asked you,” Atsumu snaps, then looks over at Komori. “How do ya stand this guy?”

Komori’s eyes widen a little – only fractionally, if Bokuto wasn’t checking for it, he might have missed it – and his face softens, crossing his arms into each other as he leans back in his seat and speaks through a suppressed laugh.

“No idea. I suppose you get used to it after so much time together.”

“Exactly,” Suna says, and he’s grinning that same sincere grin that Bokuto saw a few days prior. It’s so obvious, especially with his phone lighting up each feature of his face. “Realised I couldn't get rid of him so I just welcome it now.”

“You guys have played together for a whiiiilee,” Hinata chimes in, “that probably helps.”

“Nah, I played with Rin for years. He’s just an asshole,” Atsumu says candidly.

Suna puts up three fingers, then drops his hand back down. “I played with Motoya for four.” Something about the conversation peaks Suna’s interest enough that he tucks his phone away.

“They were fine in highschool,” Aran informs, waving his hand dismissively. It looks really funny with the glitching. “Relative to all of their other friendships, at least.”

“What does that mean?” Atsumu grabs the phone and holds it close to his face, frowning.

“That you’re just an asshole,” Suna says with exaggerated emphasis.

“And yer unapproachable,” Atsumu retorts quickly, then looks back down at Aran, upset.

“That’s why you just let him come to you,” Komori leans over to tell Hinata in a hushed tone that's not quiet at all. Hinata listens to every word, leans in himself, a little. Bokuto finds himself leaning in too. “Like a cat.”

Suna whacks him.

“It’s a joke!” Komori rubs his arm, laughing.

“So cute,” Sakusa says in a way that implies he doesn’t think it’s cute at all. Bokuto appreciates the effort, anyway. “You two are so good together,” he adds robotically.

Bokuto taps Sakusa on the shoulder and cups his hand near his ear.

“I know you’re just repeating the stuff from the list I sent you, and you’re so awesome for that, but it would really help if you added a little more emotion into it. It’s seems scripted otherwise.”

Bokuto peers over at Suna and Komori, who are staring directly at him.

“You got this!” He whispers and boyishly pats Sakusa’s chest before leaning back into his seat.

Sakusa looks at him in incredulity. Bokuto gives him a two thumbs up from below the table. He’s got this! Sakusa is the smartest person he knows, after Bokuto’s oldest sister. And mom. And Akaashi. But that's it. Maybe Kenma.

“Sakusa-san, are you going to eat anything?” Hinata asks, concerned, through another mouthful of rice and egg.

“I want onigiri.”

“They have onigiri here,” Hinata assures.

“Prepared by someone else. I’d rather not.”

“So? When’s that ever stopped ya before?” Atsumu accuses, slightly affronted. “You eat when we go to my brother’s all the time—"

“Suna and Komori, you two are so good together,” Sakusa interrupts, surely because he sees that Atsumu’s steering the conversation in the wrong direction. They’re here to map the road to love, not Onigiri Miya. He sounds less robotic and more like he’s being held hostage.

Suna hums thoughtfully. “So you’ve said…”

“Komori-kun, I was wondering,” Bokuto swoops in and saves the day from Sakusa’s bad acting and Atsumu’s general inclination to do and say whatever he wants. “If you could live anywhere, where would it be?”

“That’s an odd thing to wonder,” Komori seems like he considers the question, anyway. “I’m not sure, actually! Going abroad for a bit might be fun.” He looks over at Suna.

Suna purses his lips, then shrugs. “Yeah, it’d be fun.”

“Where’d we go?” Komori asks.

“Not sure. We can look some places up. No beaches, though.”

“Still?”

“I prefer the snow.” Suna’s face lights up. “Oh, France.”

“Jam-apple Koutarou!” Bokuto cheers. Beside him, Sakusa’s pulling up his mask again and rubbing his temple. Right, of course, business as usual, they’re getting far too off topic again. Who cares about countries, they’re here to map the road to love, not the Eiffel Tower. “Suna, I had a question for you, too.”

“Alright,” Suna looks positively amused.

“What’s your favourite book?” Recycled question, give him a break, he's had a long week.

“Do you just… wonder these things about all your teammates?” Suna asks, expression unchanged.

“Unfortunately,” Sakusa helps.

Aran loses it there and starts laughing. It’s still such a lovely sound, even through the crackling of the speaker, that Bokuto almost misses Suna’s question.

“Does manga count?”

“You don’t even read manga,” Komori raises an eyebrow, looks nice while doing it.

“Yeah, I don’t,” Suna rests his chin on his hand. “I just read over Komori’s shoulder whenever he’s reading one.”

“You read manga, Komori-san?” Hinata gushes. And damn it if Bokuto doesn’t want to talk about all the manga he knows, too.

But, need anyone be reminded, these are very serious, very professional minutes being wasted.

Komori only manages to reply to Hinata before Bokuto asks another question. “Mostly just at home.”

“How would your friends describe you?”

“There is no way you brought that notebook here,” Sakusa has the decency to say this quietly.

“I forget the questions,” Bokuto says in defense, fingers playing with the pages in his lap. “Your memory's better than mine.”

Komori’s head turns to Suna, expectant. Suna puts up one of his hands and quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his lip following up with it. “Not your friend, Komori.”

“Funny, supportive,” Aran provides in his place, Komori smiles at the phone. “Hard-working, he’s a great—”

“Okay, he said two words, Aran-kun,” Atsumu flips the phone back to himself. “Ya said like, ten—is that my food?”

The waiter who had been bearing most of Atsumu’s dagger-sharp glares, presents Atsumu to a steaming bowl of ramen as a peace offering, or a trap. Bokuto isn’t given much time to consider either options, too many manga plot-twists still at the forefront of his mind, because Sakusa is tapping on his shoulder – important matters, attendance, all that stuff.

“Iwaizumi is here.”

“But they’re not in love yet,” Bokuto says, trying to maintain his volume with his panic. Hinata and Aran have struck up their own conversation with Suna and Komori, which is its own problem, but at the very least it lets him stress a little more visibly. “They keep getting off topic.”

“Off topic from what?” Sakusa asks.

“Each other!”

“That’s… literally not how conversations work—” Sakusa rubs the spot between his eyebrows, deeply inhales, then exhales. “Bokuto, we asked Iwaizumi to pick us up, and now he’s here. It would be beyond rude if we made him travel all that way for nothing.”

He’s right. Bokuto knows he’s right, romance can’t flourish in front of others, it’s like a pot of boiling water! Nothing will ever happen if they keep staring. What Suna and Komori need now is privacy, and intimacy, and that's exactly what Bokuto will give them.

He stands up so quickly, the chair collapses behind him with a loud crash.

“I need the bathroom,” Bokuto booms. A few people look over. Not even a problem, Bokuto likes it.

Before any of them can react, or, really, before Suna and Komori can react – Sakusa’s already throwing on his coat, Hinata’s too immersed in eating with a virtual Aran, and Atsumu’s splitting his chopsticks like he hasn’t eaten in a month – Bokuto grabs Atsumu by the shoulders and lifts him out of his seat.

“Hey!”

“Atsumu, it’s go time,” Bokuto whispers loudly.

“My food just arrived!”

“Iwa-chan’s here,” more urgency ought to do it.

“My food just arrived!” Atsumu hisses back.

“We don’t have time for stuff like food,” Bokuto grabs Atsumu’s plate and places it casually in front of Suna. “Enjoy the meal. Don't eat too much. But eat a little, better safe than sorry, y’know.”

Naturally, Bokuto doesn’t give him the time to respond. Not that Suna looks like he has much of a response prepared, anyway.

“Hinata, let’s go!”

“My ramen! ” Atsumu explodes, letting himself be dragged away by Bokuto. “You owe me so much fuckin’ ramen.”

“Oh, Ojiro-san, I think we’re going now. We’ll call you back in the car, okay?” Hinata smiles at the phone as he slides out of his seat.

Sakusa hasn’t said a word since putting on his coat. Each movement is slow and careful, like he’s more concerned about the coat touching the surface of the table than how ludicrous going to the bathroom in a coat must appear to the impending couple (based on how the rest of the night goes without Bokuto’s superintendence.)

“We’ll be in the bathroom if you need us!” Hinata says as a farewell. "But don't. Need us, I mean."

“I’ll be heading home now,” Sakusa tells them openly. For a moment, Bokuto thinks to try and cover for him, but decides it’s relatively Sakusa-like to go home early, anyway, and makes sense of the coat.

It’s for the best, very unlikely for four grown men to go to the bathroom all at the same time – three (and one on the phone) is far more plausible.

“Let me get this straight,” Iwaizumi says, the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. Sakusa looks at him like he just disappointed the only sane man in the world. “The emergency you had Sakusa text me about, was to bring me here, to act as a getaway car.”

Bokuto nods.

“For a… group date—?”

“Fake group date,” Hinata corrects.

“—Fake group date, because Bokuto is playing matchmaker—”

“Cupid,” Bokuto corrects.

“—Cupid, for Suna and Komori, who Bokuto is not that close to, but Atsumu and Sakusa… are?”

Sakusa clasps his hands together in front of him and looks at Iwaizumi for an incredibly long beat.

“Motoya is my cousin—”

“I know Komori is your cousin,” Iwaizumi shakes his head. He looks between the three of them again, and then lands his eyes on the phone Hinata is holding upright. He lifts his hand in greeting hesitantly. “Hello, Aran.”

“How are you, Iwaizumi-kun?”

Iwaizumi looks at the group, then back at the phone. “I’ve had better nights.”

“O—Kageyama-kun!” Hinata blinks, perplexed. “What are you doing with Iwaizumi-san?”

“Why aren’t you at the Valentine’s Day group dinner?” Bokuto tilts his head to make himself more visible through Iwaizumi’s side of the car window. "I thought you were injured."

“Hello Bokuto-san, Sakusa-san, Ojiro-san, Dumbass,” Kageyama nods at each of them, and continues through Hinata’s indignant squawk. “I wasn't. Miya-san told me I should lie about it to Iwaizumi-san. Which Valentine’s Day group dinner?”

Everyone turns over to look at Atsumu. He blinks, narrows his eyes, then throws his hands up in the air in frustration, turning his head to ignore the stares. "See if I do anything nice for ya ever again," he grumbles, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

“Weren’t you just at the Valentine’s Day group dinner?” Iwaizumi asks exasperatedly, mostly ignoring what was just said.

“No we were at a different one,” Hinata explains, “ours was the fake Valentine’s Day group dinner to set Suna-san and Komori-san up.”

Iwaizumi hums, a pitiful sound. Disappointed that he actually understands. “Atsumu, you’re awfully quiet about all this.”

“I’m hungry and Bokuto is the worst fuckin’ Cupid ever.”

“Hey!” Bokuto really does feel guilty about that. Sakusa made a good point earlier about just packing it as takeaway, which Bokuto hadn't considered with the chaos of trying to get out in time. “I said I’d make up for it. What do you want, more ramen? I'll get you the best ramen in the world.”

Atsumu's face falls flat, hardly convinced. He forces his arms together even tighter.

“Iwaizumi-san, were we invited to a Valentine’s Day group dinner?” Kageyama asks, concern laced in his voice. "Did we miss it?"

“I didn’t hear about anything like that,” Iwaizumi looks at Bokuto like he’s trying to figure him out.

“There was no formal invitation, Bokuto just announced it to whoever was in the changing room at the time,” Sakusa regretfully informs him.

“Butt-ass naked,” Atsumu builds on.

“That was an accident—” Bokuto attempts to fortify his pride, but to no avail.

“And he said the entire dinner would be on him!” Hinata boasts, because he hasn’t learned that there are certain things you don’t show off about your mentor, no matter how cool he is. That earns a snort out of Sakusa.

“Okay, okay!” Iwaizumi calls out gesturing with his hands to get them to lower the volume, the pace, everything. Get them to lower the vibes. “Listen. I have my own dinner to get to in about—” Iwaizumi checks his watch, then looks over at Kageyama. “—twenty minutes. If your stop is on the way, get in. If it’s not, get a cab.”

“Which way are you going?” Sakusa immediately asks.

“Down the street to—”

The passenger car door opens with such ferocity that it pushes Bokuto to bump into Atsumu, who’s already in a foul mood, and pulls a face as though Bokuto laid him on the ground and stomped on each individual limb with intent. Sakusa slams the car door shut and slides into the furthest seat, right behind Kageyama, who checks him curiously.

“The rest of you?” Iwaizumi says.

Bokuto tries to make his smile as friendly as humanly – as Bokutoly as possible.

“The opposite direction, but—”

Left in the dust, Iwaizumi steps on the gas before any of them can fit another plea.

They’re here to map the road to love – but first, a ride to get them there.

"I'm thinking if we wait out here until they leave the restaurant—"

"Bokkun, I swear on the very fingers that I set with, if ya don't hail a cab in the next five seconds—"

"Five minutes—"

"Bokuto Koutarou—"

"Fiiineee. Fine."

When Bokuto walks into the changing rooms the next morning, Instagram stories checked and yoga stretches done, he is content.

Did Suna end up posting about the date? No. Does that mean the date went horribly after they left? Probably! Is Atsumu still mad at him? Nope, only well-fed. Will Bokuto cover the cost of all the food and drinks that he promised from the restaurant he didn’t even go to? If Hakuba asks about it one more time, most likely not.

But that's fine. 

Everything's a learning experience, and if there was anything that Bokuto learned from the past week, it’s that you can’t force love. Certain things in life you have to accept as they come, and Bokuto is well past accepting that he was never meant to be Cupid.

He was meant to be Cupid’d.

Ah, well, it was fun while it lasted anyway. Whistling a tune he doesn’t know, Bokuto strips out of his clothes and changes into his training ones, greeting all his teammates who enter the room to do the same.

“You look happy,” Sakusa says. He sounds suspicious, but he started the conversation first, which he hardly ever does unless he’s telling Bokuto to move his stuff over, so Bokuto takes this as a good sign.

“I am happy, Omi-kun,” Bokuto says. “Thanks for noticing!”

“Right…”

Hinata and Atsumu notice, too.

“Did ya get yerself laid?”

“I was gonna say, Bokuto-san,” Hinata pulls off his bag and drops it on the bench. “You look really bright today.”

“I didn’t, and thanks,” he nods to the two respectively. “I had an epiphany.”

This is Sakusa’s cue to roll his eyes and walk away. He does the former, but lingers in his locker, rearranges things that don’t need to be rearranged.

“Valentine’s Day is the day of love, and there are simply too many ways to love someone for me to be concerned with dating and relationships and matchmaking,” Bokuto preaches, and takes a few steps back to square his shoulders, hands on his hips. Sakusa hides his face deeper in his locker. “I have an incredible team filled with awesome friends who help me be Cupid for a week. It didn’t work out, but it was fun, and you guys supported me. There’s nothing more I could’ve ever asked for in the season of love!” Except possibly a loving relationship with a significant other, preferably one with nice hands and thinks Bokuto’s hair is cool, even in the mornings before it’s gelled properly. That’s not important right now.

Atsumu scratches his nose.

“My point is – Ya loobloo vam.”

Record scratch. The moment is lost. Hinata and Atsumu both tilt their head with a dumbfounded look on their face, and Sakusa actually takes his head out of his locker just to stare at Bokuto.

“Y’know!” Bokuto’s low key sweating, he practiced this in the mirror like, four times this morning. “Jivus aim!”

“I don’t get it—”

“Is that even Japanese—?”

“Obviously it’s not Japanese, Miya, it’s hardly even whatever language he’s trying to speak—”

“I love you guys! I’m saying I love you guys!” Bokuto exclaims.

The door creaks open, Aran’s finally returned from his trip away, it makes Bokuto’s chest burst to know he’ll be able to hear his laugh again, in real life!

“I love you too, Aran!”

That laugh!!!

“Good morning to you too, Bokkun,” Aran waves and heads to his locker.

Yes. Today is definitely a great day for epiphanies and loving your teammates.

“Maybe I can be Cupid, but for friends,” Bokuto wonders aloud. “Maybe that can be the new thing I do on Valentine’s Day.”

Atsumu laughs, it’s well intended. “Sure, Bokkun.”

They finish getting dressed more or less at the same time, Bokuto slowing his movement a little in wait of everyone else. Then, like the gentleman that he is, Bokuto reaches out for the door first and pushes it, stepping forward to hold it open until he notices two familiar faces by the entrance—

Two merged familiar faces by the entrance—

Two familiar faces kissing by the entrance.

“Fuck —damn it Bokkun, all that preaching ‘bout friendship and ya can’t even hold a door op—” Atsumu suddenly cuts himself off, then just as abruptly, starts snickering. “Wow. They’re already with the agenda.”

“Really good friends,” Hinata’s laughing beside him.

Suna and Komori are kissing. Smiling into each others mouths like they're hopelessly and disgustingly in love. It's like watching movie, Suna grabs Komori's shoulder and pushes lightly, jokingly, like a 'I love you and how annoying you are because we're dating and I've accepted every part of you' push. Like soulmates. Bokuto could catch a million flies with how low his jaw drops. Is Komori wearing Suna's Inarizaki sweatpants?!

“Yeah, they’ve been on that agenda for like, a year now,” Aran drops an eight-thousand-billion-gajillion ton weight on them.

“A year!” Bokuto gasps when he finds his voice again. “Did you know?!”

"Didn't we go on a date with them just yesterday? The Valentine's Day group dinner?" Aran asks genuinely.

"I'm officially banning that word," Sakusa says, annoyed. "No one say that around me ever again."

"Valentine's Day group dinner," Atsumu enunciates into Sakusa's ear. Sakusa takes one big step away.

"Omi-kun, did you know?" Bokuto asks, the shock still hasn't worn off, but it's for a completely new reason now.

“What, don’t look at me like that,” Sakusa scowls. “Motoya lives with me, of course I know. Suna’s over at our place more than he’s at his own. I was just making sure you weren’t actually meddling with—they were already dating, you weren’t meddling so much as—” Sakusa’s face pinches even more. “Bokuto, stop looking at me like that.”

“You wanted me to think I was a good Cupid,” Bokuto realises, and his heartstrings pull really hard, like someone shot an arrow into it.

Sakusa’s mouth gapes a few times, like a fish out of water, then twists shut right before he turns around and shoves his hands in his jacket pockets.

“We have practice.” Sakusa-surly with a twinge of affection, Bokuto can hear it. “Don’t blame me if you have to do laps again.”

In the name of friendship, Bokuto will happily run another thousand.