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The problem with training camps was definitely the fact that they all had to sleep squished up, too many futons on the floor of a single room.
Tanaka’s knee was jabbing into his side at regular intervals and his leg was laying hot against his side the whole rest of the time and it was a sweet kind of torture. About a hundred times more gratifying then the insistent ache in every one of his muscles from Coach Ukai’s hellish Golden Week regimen. Between the two it was impossible for Chikara to sleep, no matter that his body and mind were both exhausted.
With a soft sigh Chikara gingerly gave into temptation and shifted onto his opposite side to face his stupid crush.
Tanaka looked peaceful. He was making a soft whistling noise that was mostly too adorable to count as a snore and drooling slightly on his pillow, his blankets bunched up around his waist and doing absolutely nothing to cover him.
Still he practically radiated lush heat and Chikara scooched a little closer, letting his foot loop around his fellow first-year’s bare ankle.
Tanaka didn’t so much as twitch at the invasion into his personal space. He’s been working hard all week, throwing himself into the training with battle-cries and enthusiasm and dropping in an exhausted heap into his futon every night.
Out of the first years it’s tough to say who’s working harder, him or Nishinoya, and all week Chikara has been treated to a teeth-grit, brow-furrowed no-pain-no-gain expression. That’s all been smoothed away by a hot bath and the onset of REM sleep though.
Chikara reached out, feeling daring in the dark with Tanaka so close, and smoothed the pad of his index finger down between Tanaka’s uncharacteristically unfurrowed brows down along the bridge of his nose.
Tanaka’s nose wrinkled cutely and he shifted more firmly against Chikara’s side, digging a boney knee into his hip for a second before settling again.
The other problem with training camps is that his teammates talk. They want to get to know each other so they talk about normal, average, everyday topics, like games and manga and girls.
And, unfortunately for Chikara, Tanaka loves to talk about girls, he and Nishinoya have both waxed loud (and strangely poetic) about Shimizu’s hair, name, glasses, and reserved personality whenever the opportunity has presented itself (though Michimiya, Aya and the other girls on the girl's volleyball team have also received glowing commentary).
It wasn’t like Chikara didn’t already know that Tanaka would never go out with him, he’d been realistic from the start. But hearing him declaim and act out the scene of his super-cliché anime worthy first kiss (yet to be received, although the whole team was assured it was only a matter of time). Chikara couldn’t help but be disheartened and more than a little jealous.
It wasn’t that he put much stock in the idea of the ‘first kiss’—he’d had his with his first ‘girlfriend’ in the second year of middle school after all—and although Emi-chan’s lips had been warm and soft and tasted faintly of cherry chapstick he couldn’t say that it had been a spectacular kiss or that it was really any more special then the kisses he’d engaged in since then. But ever since he’d learned that Tanaka put a lot of stock in the first kiss he’d felt a burning awful jealously bubbling up in the pit of his stomach for the nameless, faceless girlfriend that would get Tanaka’s, probably without ever knowing just what a gift she was receiving.
Tanaka shifted again, letting out a soft snorting sigh.
Chikara has leaned in close enough to feel his breath ruffle his hair, and a sudden thought struck him as he chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip.
If he really wants Tanaka’s first kiss to be taken by someone who will treasure it…he could always just lean forward a few centimeters and take it for himself.
No one would know except him, and he wouldn’t take advantage, just a chaste little brush of lips…just a small taste to carry him through what was looking to be a doozy of an unrequited love. Just a little something to hold close and help him to persevere…
Before he could talk himself out of it, Chikara pushed up onto his elbows, just a hair, brushed a feather light touch over Tanaka’s cheekbone and quickly dippped his head to press his mouth against Tanaka’s.
Tanaka’s mouth is warm and soft, and his lips are slick with drool in the corner and taste faintly of stale spearmint and the cheap curry they’d had at dinner. There’s no answering press, no hitched breath or trembling hands—still dead to the world Tanaka doesn’t respond at all—but Chikara felt a shiver roll through him and a blush rise up across his cheeks.
Jerking quickly away, he licked his lips, and could still taste Tanaka.
And it was different, somehow, to know that he had Tanaka’s first kiss, and nothing could take that away from him. His head felt light and as he buried his flushing face into his pillow hardly daring to believe that he'd actually done such a bold and outrageous thing.
His lips are tingling.
And abruptly, with his heart about to beat out of his chest, he understood why this was such a big deal.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have done that, but I’m kind of in love with you, so, forgive me? I’ll treasure it properly, I swear,” he promised Tanaka quietly, mumbling into his pillow.
Only able to face his crush and teammate with a single exposed eye.
Tanaka slept on, oblivious as usual.
And Chikara lay awake like that for a long while with his hand on his lips just listening to him snore.