Work Text:
Seated at his desk, cradling his aching head in his palms and trying to convince himself he’s still working, Asahi reflexively cringes at the shrill text message alert of his phone. He had hoped to have his homework finished before dinner, which was hours ago, but he’s been at this for so long now it seems ridiculous and his head is pounding. Asahi can’t tell if he’s burnt out on studying, or if he’s just been awake too long, or if it’s something else entirely—but the jarring chime of his phone is not doing him any favors.
Blindly reaching for his phone, Asahi scoops it up and hopes whoever it is at least has a good reason for texting him.
[ What’s up ]
Daichi’s text glows up at him from the dimmed light of his phone’s screen.
The hint of annoyance that made Asahi initially cringe slips away from him, only to be replaced by a sliver of guilt at feeling annoyed in the first place.
He quickly thumbs out a response.
[ Nothing. How are you? ]
Asahi welcomes the distraction Daichi poses, his thumbs hovering over the screen after he’s sent his reply. If Daichi knew Asahi was using him as a reason to avoid the grueling drag of his homework, he’d likely give Asahi that look and tell him to get back to work. But what Daichi doesn’t know, won’t result in Asahi getting scolded; so it’s win-win. Biting at his lip as he waits for a response, Asahi finds himself wondering what Daichi’s doing. If he’s at his desk or lying in bed, what he had for dinner tonight, if he’s already taken a bath—
Which… he maybe shouldn’t be thinking about.
Bushing, Asahi shakes his head, trying to halt the way his mind races to supply him with the mental image of Daichi in the bath, dewy wetness beading on and clinging to his flushed skin.
In his hand, his phone chimes, and Asahi nearly flings it across the room.
[ Good. Just finished my English work. Thought you might want some help ]
Asahi sighs, all pleasant thoughts of Daichi in the bath effectively replaced with the familiar dread brought on by a glance over at his English workbook.
English is… arduous. Not for everyone, Asahi supposes, but it happens to be Asahi’s most challenging subject. Of the three of them, Suga is undoubtedly the most proficient, not to mention the better teacher by far—but Daichi isn’t bad at it either. If Daichi’s texting him, it can only mean that even he found the English work difficult.
Sighing, Asahi taps out a response.
[ Not there yet, I’m still working through calc ]
As if to remind him what he means by still working, Asahi’s head gives a particularly vicious throb.
Closing his eyes, Asahi tries his best to ignore the invisible vice that seems determined to push his temples together. Nestled in his chest is an anxious, familiar feeling that rouses every time he tells himself his headache will surely go away; if he just waits it out—if he just focuses on something else. It’s a vicious cycle and he knows that but he just wants to be able to will this away. He doesn’t have time for his chest to seize up and his hands to shake; he needs to get his homework done, not provoke an anxiety attack over something silly.
The chime of his phone isn’t helping his headache any, but it’s easier for Asahi to forgive when it means Daichi’s responded.
[ Yeahhhh I haven’t touched that yet ]
Asahi doesn’t think, thumbing out his response by rote.
[ :( ]
About to drop his phone to his notebook and get back to work, Asahi pauses when Daichi’s response is almost immediate.
[ Is everything ok? ]
With a flick of his thumb, Asahi switches his phone to vibrate. The chime of his text message alert is becoming more piercing than Asahi can handle.
[ Of course ]
An empty assurance, but one Asahi feels obligated to give.
It’s not worth it to worry Daichi about little stuff like this. Asahi is basically an adult. He’s perfectly capable of finding an ibuprofen without Daichi telling him to.
When his phone buzzes, it manages to do so accusatorily.
[ Asahi. ]
Proper punctuation in a text message shouldn’t straighten Asahi’s posture, but it does. Although, to be fair, Daichi tends to have that effect on him.
He fumbles with his phone as he hurriedly types out his response.
[ Everything is fine! I just have a headache is all ]
Really, Asahi hadn’t intended to tell Daichi that… but being honest with him comes naturally.
Even if sometimes Asahi wishes it wouldn’t.
The thing is, Daichi is a problem solver. It’s how Karasuno’s volleyball club survived all those months without a real coach. It’s how the team manages to work together even with personalities that seemingly would never mesh. When presented with a problem, Daichi doesn’t supply empty condolences or sit idly by— he sets a goal, and steadily works toward it. That’s just the way he was made.
[ Are you hydrated? ]
Some overly accommodating part of Asahi’s brain supplies him with the voice Daichi uses on the team when they’re practicing in the grueling heat of summer, trying to avoid heat stroke and push themselves to their limits at the same time.
Asahi ducks his head, embarrassed at how easily he can picture the dip of Daichi’s eyebrows, the sweat at his temples, the concerned set of his mouth.
[ Yes, Captain Sawamura. ]
Asahi means it to sound teasing, to embarrass Daichi into leaving the subject, but Daichi’s reply is too quick to suggest he feels any remorse.
[ More like nurse ;) ]
Or shame, apparently.
Heat creeps up Asahi’s neck, flustered at the ease with which Daichi turns his attempts at playful jockeying into… a different kind of playful.
Before he has a chance to get too ruffled, his phone buzzes again.
[ Do you have your hair up?? ]
Self-consciously, Asahi’s hand goes to his bun.
It was tied pretty tight…
With Karasuno’s dress code regulations and the hazard of it getting in the way during practice, Asahi usually waits until he’s home to let his hair down. One thing led to another today—practice ran late, his mother texted him to stop by the store on his way home, and he’d just gotten home so late he hadn’t thought to let it down.
Plucking at the elastic twisted in his hair, Asahi wonders how Daichi knew to ask that; and why Asahi hadn’t thought of it himself.
The indignation that wells up in him is misplaced, and Asahi knows it, but he can’t seem to help the tears that prick at the corners of his eyes. How could he have missed such an obvious solution? He should have thought to take his hair down hours ago. Was he really that simple, that all Daichi had to do was take a wild stab in the dark to guess what was wrong with him?
His phone buzzes again, likely prompted by Asahi’s lack of response.
[ You know that gives you a headache when its tied up too tight ]
A reminder, like a steady hand at his back, that there is another option.
The option that Daichi might just know Asahi well enough after all these years—that he might care enough to pay attention to these habits of Asahi’s, that Asahi doesn’t even pay enough attention to himself. The option that they’re close enough that no amount of distance could keep Daichi from knowing what he would do to comfort Asahi, if that distance weren’t between them. That option sends Asahi’s stomach into uncomfortable somersaults, his indignation lost in the tumult.
Sighing, Asahi pulls the elastic from his hair, letting his bun fall into chunky disarray around his face.
The pounding in his head lessens almost immediately, alleviated to a muted but bearable thrumming at his temples.
Instead of thinking about how Daichi would look if he were here, arms crossed over his chest, pleased that his suggestion worked, a small, allayed smile at Asahi’s wellbeing; Asahi sends off another text.
[ It’s fine now. ]
Setting his phone down on his open workbook, he slides his hands into his hair, scrubbing at his scalp to shake the stiff mess into something more normal. Massaging in slow, even motions helps with the pain that lingers, and the press of his own fingers against his tender scalp is near blissful.
The buzz of his phone continues to be accusatory.
[ Asahi. ]
Guiltily, Asahi scoops up his phone and replies.
[ It’s down! ]
Hopefully that says what he means to say.
( You were right. I’m fine now. Thank you. )
Asahi can see Daichi typing something, erasing it, and then typing again.
[ Yeah? ]
Glad that Daichi’s uncharacteristically willing to let the subject drop, Asahi tries for some degree of reassurance.
[ Yes, I promise. I’m just stuck on this homework. ]
Daichi’s response comes after a moment.
[ Idk if I believe you. Maybe you should send me a pic ]
Followed immediately by a winking emoticon.
The tips of Asahi’s ears burn at the suggestion, fully aware of where it could lead. Suddenly seized by the irrational urge to make sure no one is reading these unsubtle texts over his shoulder, Asahi glances behind him, just to check that his door is still closed. Asahi’s not sure he’ll ever feel like he’s fully got his footing when Daichi manages to both terrify and thrill him, but somehow, he’s intensely glad for that.
: : :
Snow coats the Azumane residence in a powdery dust, and Asahi’s been ignoring the pinging of what he’d thought was hail for the past five minutes now. When an aggressive handful of hail noisily ricochets against his window, Asahi pads over in socked feet to investigate. There’s no hail, but instead, one very bundled up and pink-nosed Daichi standing in his front yard.
Daichi waves a gloved hand, but Asahi is too busy awkwardly fumbling with the lock on his window to notice it.
There’s no real reason for worry to wrap tight around Asahi’s stomach—Asahi’s parents know and adore Daichi, and they’d let him inside no matter what time of night or day he showed up. Asahi opens the window and leans out into the cold night air, making a silent but anxious why are you here hand gesture.
Daichi’s answering grin gives Asahi no answers, but does manage to send the butterflies, previously just fluttering in Asahi’s stomach, into a full on frenzy. Too stunned to pay attention to the fact that they’re obviously not getting anywhere, the butterflies tumble over and into each other in their haste to escape— driven by a stupid instinct to try to be closer to that grin.
Asahi can’t say he blames them.
Daichi loops his gloved hand in front of him, in the universal come down here motion.
Asahi shakes his head no, giving Daichi an incredulous look.
The way Daichi looks at him has Asahi’s fingers tightening on the cool ledge of his window, willing himself not to be swayed by the urge to simply do as Daichi says.
Unimpressed with the timing of Asahi’s budding backbone, Daichi stomps his foot, the heel of his boot crunching the frozen blades of grass he hasn’t already flattened under his weight. Impatiently, he makes the come down here motion, again.
Ignoring Daichi has never really been in Asahi’s wheelhouse.
Only refusing on the principle of the matter to begin with, Asahi caves. With a sigh that plumes out in front of him in the chilly night air, Asahi hangs his head for a second before motioning around the house—but Daichi’s already disappearing around the side gate.
They’ve been friends for long enough that Daichi doesn’t need directions, only permission.
: : :
The first thing Daichi does when Asahi steps out of his house and slides the door closed behind him is frown.
Tension coils in Asahi, pulling him into a mess of knots under the coat he’d remembered to snag on his way down stairs. Unease worms its way into Asahi’s gut too easily, and he is immediately worried—that something is wrong, that something has happened, that Daichi is here because he wants to talk about something that couldn’t be spoken of over the phone.
He’s too busy worrying himself into a gnarled mess over his own thoughts, that Asahi doesn’t notice Daichi pulling his glove off; doesn’t notice his hand reaching out, until the other boy has sunk his fingers into Asahi’s hair. He’s practiced in the art of pulling the elastic from Asahi’s hair, and so he does, gently and without preamble.
“You goofball,” Daichi grumbles, pinching the offending band of elastic between his fingers. “This is gonna make your headache worse.”
It takes Asahi a moment to connect the dots, but as Daichi slips the hair band into his pocket with an annoyed huff, realization blossoms bright and warm in Asahi’s chest. The constant battle to keep his hair out of his eyes had become more distracting as his headache ebbed. Pulling his hair back into a loose bun low on his neck, had been so instinctual, Asahi hadn’t even noticed doing it.
“It’s better,” Asahi promises, unreasonably pleased at the exasperation of Daichi’s concern.
Daichi fixes him with a look, like he could find the lie written on Asahi’s face if he just paid enough attention. In all honesty, he probably could; but there isn’t a lie to be found.
There’s plenty else, and Asahi can only hope Daichi can’t see everything he’s feeling. The simmering of this thing so like pleasure, the mild thrill of harmless surprise, this impossible happiness bubbling up inside of him; all because Daichi decided to show up unannounced.
Whatever Daichi does see, it’s enough to make him sport that small, satisfied smile of his. “Good.”
Breath forming in front of him as he huffs out a laugh, Asahi asks, “Did you come all the way over here just to make sure I was doing as you’d asked?”
“Nah,” Daichi gives a little shake of his head, before spearing Asahi with an accusatory look. “Although, obviously it’s a good thing I did.”
Asahi tries not to flinch under the brunt of that gaze. He’s sure he’s in no way smooth when he hastily attempts to redirect Daichi’s attention. “Then what for?”
It takes a second for Daichi’s purpose to slip from him, but eventually it does, and Daichi is left looking… nervous. As if he’s not sure he wants to say. As if he’s unsure he should even be here at all. To see and not experience that creeping sense of unease is so incongruous, Asahi almost forgets how awful it feels.
Though it looks just as good as confidence and determination and every other look ever has on him, hesitation doesn’t last long on Daichi.
“To give you this,” Daichi reaches between them, his hand settling around the back of Asahi’s neck and Asahi can feel his stomach leap up to swap places with his heart.
They’ve done this enough that the knowledge of what comes next is familiar, but Asahi is always, always thrilled by the way Daichi touches him; a promise in the warm shape of his palm. Asahi leans down, even though Daichi doesn’t put any pressure into the hold, so unabashedly hopeful.
Daichi leans up to kiss Asahi, tender with him, the way he is when he’s not sure if Asahi will respond in tears or enthusiasm.
It doesn’t matter that it’s below freezing outside. It doesn’t matter that Daichi is bundled up to his ears and Asahi’s bland grey sweatpants have an obvious highlighter stain on the thigh. It doesn’t even matter that Asahi’s parents could come downstairs at any moment—because Daichi kisses him like a declaration, like I missed you, and I wanted to make sure you were okay, and I want you to tell me the truth, and Asahi wants to believe all of that so badly.
Asahi can never tell whether Daichi means a kiss to be quick, or if he gets lost in the undertow just as easily as Asahi does.
His hands fist in Daichi’s coat, an unnecessary attempt to keep him close, and Daichi makes a low, pleased sound as he moves closer. He fits into Asahi’s space like he knows there’s always been a place there for him, like they don’t still run into each other’s elbows and knees at the most awkward moments. With so many layers between them, the fit is a little different, but Asahi doesn’t mind. He wants to know every way they can fit together; how they can make every version of this closeness work.
The curtain of Asahi’s hair slips over his shoulder, shrouding them from the quiet, frozen night, and Daichi’s other hand, still gloved, pushes it back, brushing against Asahi’s cheek in the process. It feels like a declaration. Like Daichi daring the world to get a glimpse. To tell them this feeling, building to a wild boil in Asahi’s chest, isn’t the most precious thing.
Opening his mouth to Daichi, Asahi warms himself in the breath shared between them, welcoming the wet touch of Daichi’s tongue when he leans in to take advantage of Asahi’s invitation. They shared a kiss less than six hours ago, but it wasn’t like this. This is something different. The way Daichi kisses him now has an undertow of affection and promise that’s enough to make Asahi dizzy—and in the quiet safety behind his house, Asahi can see himself yielding to Daichi so easily.
Thankfully, Daichi has the sense to pull back before Asahi lets him get carried away.
Dazed, and a little breathless, Asahi licks his lips; stalling until he can find his voice. “That’s what you came over for?”
“I thought it might help you feel better,” Daichi breathes, distracted by the glimpse of Asahi’s tongue. It might be the cold, or just the quiet way he says it, but Daichi sounds almost… embarrassed, like he’s unsure he’s allowed to say such sentimental things when he’s already carved his place out as the dependable one in their relationship. The steady rise and fall of Daichi’s chest under Asahi’s hands fails to betray the likely frantic beating of his heart; but his subtle glance away damns him. “But your headache is gone, so I guess it was more just because I wanted to…”
Asahi can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips, kissed warm by Daichi’s mouth.
“That’s vey selfish of you.” Asahi says, trying to sound like Daichi walking fifteen minutes in the middle of the night, in the freezing cold, just because he wanted to kiss Asahi, is in any way lamentable. His hands are still fisted in Daichi’s coat, and Asahi gives the slightest tug; a request for the other to come closer. Daichi gives in, like resistance is only a fool’s option.
“I think you should kiss me again,” Asahi suggests, quiet, like he didn’t just have Daichi’s tongue in his mouth a moment ago. “As an apology.”
“Don’t push your luck.” Not even Daichi’s kissed wet lips can distract Asahi from the blush that sits high on Daichi’s cheeks now—but he leans in to give Asahi what he’s asked for.
When Daichi pulls back, he doesn’t go far, searching Asahi’s face. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”
“Yeah,” Asahi nods, wanting to say this is the best he’s felt all day, but unsure if that’s the kind of honesty Daichi wants in this moment. He’s more susceptible to a gentle view of the world than he would ever let anyone guess. Instead, Asahi tucks his hair behind his ear and adds, “Thanks for looking out for me.”
Daichi shrugs, like he hasn’t done anything particularly noteworthy, but his quiet, steady look lingers; says, always.
Asahi believes him, possibly more than he’s ever believed in anything else.
Reclaiming his hands, Daichi takes a step back and awkwardly clears his throat.
“Now, get back in there and finish your homework.” Daichi orders, slipping his hands back into his pockets, ignoring the fact that one is gloved and the other isn’t. As if in afterthought, he pulls Asahi’s hair tie out of his pocket—not to return it, but to brandish it in Asahi’s face. “And I’m keeping this.”
Its not like Asahi doesn’t have a dozen of them lying around, but it’s the meaning behind the good-natured bullying that matters; as it always has between them.
“Okay.” Asahi concedes, sliding his hands into his pockets in an effort to keep them to himself. “Text me when you get home?”
“I will.” Daichi agrees, shoving his hands into his coat pockets and calling over his shoulder. “Get your homework done.”
“I will.” Asahi promises, but stands there instead, watching Daichi until he’s gone.