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Suga learns very quickly that the hype of the Olympics is completely different from the buzz of being able to see the events in person. It’s almost as if the air itself is electrified; Suga could practically feel the adrenaline thrumming through the stadium underneath the bustle of guests being sorted through the entrance and navigating the halls of the building.
Suga makes it through check in and security with no fuss, and runs into some passersby trying to locate a different stadium on his way to the volleyball court. With a few points to their identical maps and a couple of well placed head nods, Suga overcomes the language barrier just enough to send them in the general direction of their destination.
The court itself is intense. Rows upon rows of seats surround the court on all sides and seem to ascend into the sky for miles. He picks up on a handful of languages as athletes from other sports join the crowd of fans shuffling into the stadium. He follows the general movement of people until he can locate his own seat, and when he does, he feels like he could cry or kiss Kuroo Tetsurou.
Kuroo saying he secured a good seat for Suga at Japan’s game was a wild understatement. Second row from the court, facing the pole of the net, Suga’s practically right on the sidelines with a clear view of both teams. He could count how many times a player’s shoelaces touch the floor, if he wanted. He’s that close.
He makes a note in his phone to send Kuroo a gift basket or something as soon as he’s back home.
The setter in him makes him toss his tote bag and jacket in his seat and continue down the steps to the railing that separates the sidelines and the audience. He doesn’t admit it often, but the shine of the stadium floor, the glare of the lights above, the barely contained excitement of the crowd, and the stakes of the game all make him miss the rush of being on the court with his team. He could never regret the path he chose to take, but with the world stage mere inches away, he can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to be sharing this moment with his second favorite setter instead of simply cheering him on.
The uproar that comes from Japan’s National Team taking their side of the court for warmups shakes Suga from his thoughts. He watches so many familiar faces hustle onto the court, zipping themselves out of jackets and pulling off uniform pants. The men disperse to start stretches, and it’s his kouhai with the never ending energy that spots him first.
“Suga-senpai!” Hinata shouts, waving his hands frantically over his head. Kageyama whips his head around to where Hinata’s looking, and his eyes go wide when they land on Suga. His feet seem to move before he can think about it, and before Suga knows it they’re face to face, with Kageyama gripping the railing between them.
“You made it.” Kageyama whispers, like he can’t really believe it. Suga smiles at him.
“I told you I wouldn’t miss it, no matter what.”
“I know you said that, but-” Kageyama looks over both of his shoulders before he grabs Suga’s hand and squeezes it. “I didn’t know if it’d work out.”
Suga squeezes back. Between his hectic work schedule and the absolute chaos that is trying to get into Tokyo right now, neither one of them knew if Suga would really be able to watch the game with the rest of the live audience.
“I always have tricks up my sleeve. Especially when it comes to you, Tobio.” He doesn’t mention the fight he had to make to ensure his time-off requests kept him off of the summer school schedule (he resorted to name dropping famous athletes multiple times and he’s not ashamed of it) or the fact that getting a hotel anywhere close to Tokyo during the Olympics took almost a year’s worth of overtime out of his emergency savings account, but Kageyama flashes that small smile of his that he reserves just for him and Suga figures that it was all worth it.
“Friendly reminder that any form of PDA will be trending on Twitter before the match even starts.” Tsukishima says as he and Hinata join them at the railing. “I don’t know about the rest of the team, but I don’t want the game to trend for the wrong reasons, Tobio .”
Kageyama huffs and rolls his eyes. Hinata grabs Suga’s other hand and shakes it.
“You gotta make sure you’re watching me, Suga-senpai! I’m going to get so many points for you.”
“Well I definitely didn’t come just to eat the snacks.” Suga pulls his hand out of Hinata’s grip and karate chops his head. Before Tsukishima can protect himself, Suga lands a punch in the middle of his chest. “I don’t want to get in trouble for distracting the national team. Go do your best, and know that your senpai is proud of you!”
They all leave with varying levels of excitement, and Suga waves at the familiar faces that glance in his direction upon their teammates’ return to the court. There’s the blonde setter that always winks at Suga when their eyes meet, Ushijima-san from one of their high school rival schools, and Hinata’s more excitable mentor with the two-toned hair.
Suga returns to his section and allows himself to sink into his seat with a sigh. He had to haul ass to get into the city in time, and trying to travel anywhere in Tokyo is cause for a headache and a half. He lets himself relax, texts his friends pictures of the stadium and the team and peruses the online program for other events that are taking place afterwards.
The tell-tale thundering of a volleyball against court floor brings Suga’s attention back to the scene in front of him, and he watches Kageyama begin his serving routine behind the court line. Suga can’t even bring himself to look to see who Japan’s playing against.
Kageyama pauses when the whistle blows. He spins the ball in his left hand and tosses it into the air. The crack of his hand connecting with the ball makes Suga’s breath catch in his throat.
It lands right on the line of the opponent’s - France, Suga realizes - side, signaling the first service ace of the game and scoring the first point for Japan.
Suga grips the arms of his chair and barely restrains from jumping out of his seat.
xxx
He lets himself shoot to his feet when Japan secures the gold medal. The screams in the arena are deafening from the moment the final whistle sounds, but Suga can still hear himself over everyone around him.
Bokuto smacks a kiss on Tsukishima’s cheek that he surprisingly doesn't grimace away from, and Hinata tackles Kageyama to the floor. The blonde setter - Miya, Suga sees on the back of his jersey - is jumping around a few of his teammates, and Iwaizumi herds them all to the net to shake hands with France.
Suga can see Kageyama looking for him in the audience, but Bokuto sweeps him and Hinata off of their feet and carries them back towards the locker rooms. Suga can’t help but laugh at the sight, and he sends a quick text to Kageyama promising to meet up later before he himself is swept up by the crowd of people trying to catch the next event.
It's by the stroke of luck that Suga makes it to his hotel room in one piece. Working with Miyagi’s youth on a daily basis apparently didn’t prepare him for the controlled type of chaos that comes with a mega event like the Olympics. Journalists, fans, influencers and the like have all converged in this space to fill up the busses, crowd the hallways, and make Suga’s trek back to his hotel a living nightmare.
The fumble through his tote bag for his hotel key becomes more frantic as the bustling sounds of another swarm of people get closer and louder, but it isn’t until a soft hand is brushing his shoulder that Suga bothers to inspect the source of the noise.
Kageyama stands before him, eyes wide and glowing and body still jittery with leftover adrenaline.
“You made it.” Suga breathes, taking in his boyfriend like it’s the first time he’s seeing him. Kageyama smiles under the attention.
“I wanted to come see you so I snuck away from the team. I guess I wasn't very successful.” he glances behind him where a handful of reporters and fans are waiting at the end of the hall for him.
“I think it’d be pretty hard for a gold medalist to move around the Olympics without being spotted.”
Kageyama beams again, like he was reminded that he actually won the medal, and the sight is so dizzying that Suga can’t maintain the distance between them any longer.
He pulls Kageyama in for a hug, arms tight around his shoulders, and Kageyama gathers him in his arms and barely refrains from lifting him off the ground altogether.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” Kageyama whispers into the crook of his neck. Suga feels his skin break out in goosebumps. “I missed you.”
“We were on FaceTime just last night.”
Suga can feel Kageyama physically pout as he slumps into the hug. “Can’t hug you over FaceTime. Can’t feel you over facetime. Can’t-“
“Geez, I get it.” Suga laughs. He squeezes his arms tighter around Kageyama's neck and neither of them mention it.
Kageyama's skin is still warm from exertion and the summer sun. The hair at the nape of his neck is still damp from his shower, and he smells like the soap Suga snuck into his suitcase before he left for the Olympic village all those weeks ago.
When Suga leans back, really takes in the fact that his love is right here , Kageyama pulls him closer and holds him tighter. His excited smile softens to something warmer, something just for him, and Suga forces himself to pull away before he jumps Kageyama's bones right there in the hallway.
“So what's the plan for tonight? I heard Bokuto’s already talking about going out to celebrate.”
“Ah, I'm not sure.” Kageyama shrugs. “I can ask if you’d like to go. They’d probably be happy to see you.”
“You sound like you don’t want to go.”
Kageyama glances over his shoulder again. “I was hoping we could celebrate? Just the two of us. We can join them later.”
Suga laughs even though the thought has him quickly looking for his key again. “I get it now. This is a booty call . How scandalous, Mr. Olympian.”
Suga pretends to busy himself with his tote bag while Kageyama huffs. “It’s not. But I've spent weeks sharing a room with men that aren’t my boyfriend, and I just won an Olympic medal. I'd like to celebrate preferably in a room with a single bed before anything else.”
Suga laughs again, finally finding the key and slipping it into the door handle. “Well it sounds like you’ve come to the right place.”
Kageyama is pressed against his back before the door has time to fully close. Suga would comment on his eagerness if he wasn’t trying to undo his belt and step out of his shoes at the same time.
“Kageyama, baby, didn’t you just shower?”
Kageyama doesn’t respond right away, focused instead on helping Suga get his belt off while also pulling his own sweatpants down. “Don’t care. I can shower again. We can shower together.”
“And when has that ever meant getting clean for either of us?”
Suga yelps when Kageyama picks him up and tosses him face first on the bed he’s paying for. He rolls over and is about to mention as much when he gets a full view of Kageyama pulling his shirt over his head with one hand, showing off the chest and abs and everything that got him to the Olympics in the first place.
“You’re asking too many questions, Koushi.”
“You are absolutely right.” Suga says immediately. He licks his lips and rakes his eyes over Kageyama's body. “Come shut me up, Tobio.”
xxx
The conversation of plans doesn’t come up again until Suga’s staring at the ceiling of his hotel room, sweat running down his forehead and chest heaving like he’s the one who just played in the Olympics.
Kageyama’s barely broken a sweat, the bastard, but rifles through the minibar until he finds two bottles of water.
Suga’s tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth when he tries to speak, and he takes the offered water gratefully.
“How did you have the energy to do that after playing in the Olympics ?” Suga asks after he’s finished half of his water. Kageyama blinks at him and sips from his own bottle.
“I guess the leftover adrenaline helps. Do you need more water?”
“Fuck off.” Suga sighs, flopping back against the mattress. His pillows still damp with sweat, but he can’t be assed to move. “I’m not getting up for 3 business days. You’ll have to come back and peel me off of the sheets.”
Kageyama’s nose wrinkles but he doesn’t comment. Suga fondly remembers the same look from the first time he was learning quick attacks in high school.
Kageyama caps his water bottle and slides across the mattress until he can pillow his head on Suga’s chest. “You have to get up. We’re meeting the team to celebrate, remember?”
Suga groans and slaps a hand over his eyes. “You just fucked me within an inch of my sanity and you want me to go party ?”
He feels Kageyama kiss his chest and groans again. “You’re not winning me over by being sweet, Tobio. I have a stronger will now. Teaching toddlers has hardened me.”
“You haven’t technically said no.” Kageyama whispers before kissing his chest again.
“Well my answer-”
“You have to look at me when you say it.”
“Oh fuck you.” Suga laughs. When he lifts his hand away from his face, Kageyama’s staring up at him with the widest, fondest eyes Suga’s ever seen. Suga feels his heart stutter in his chest and looks up at the ceiling.
“This is exactly what I was afraid of.”
Kageyama laughs and rolls off of him. “I’ll tell Bokuto we’ll meet him in half an hour.”
“Like hell we will. I can’t feel my legs , Mr. Olympian!” Suga shouts at Kageyama as he rifles through Suga’s suitcase.
Kageyama tosses a shirt and a pair of pants at Suga’s feet. He leans across the bed and kisses Suga once, twice, a third time.
“I just won gold for my country in a sport that I love.” Kageyama whispers. He shifts and kisses Suga’s forehead. “I’d like the man I love to come celebrate that with me.”
Suga sighs under the attention. “This is what I get for dating a gold medalist.”
Kageyama smiles and kisses him again. “‘Gold medalist.’ I like the sound of that.”
Suga rolls his eyes and pushes Kageyama off of him. “I don’t even know why we have to go out, when you just celebrated two times in 45 minutes.” His legs feel weak when he swings them over the side of the bed, but he refuses to limp or fall on his way to the bathroom.
“I’ll tell Bokuto 30 minutes!”
“You will tell him an hour or you will go alone!”
Suga slams the bathroom door behind him when he hears Kageyama laugh again. He catches a glimpse of Kageyama’s abandoned sweatpants folded on the bathroom counter, the Japan flag embroidered under the left pocket, and smiles.
He figures he’s starting to like the sound of “Kageyama Tobio: Olympic Gold Medalist” too.