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1.
Motoya knew he could be extremely clumsy sometimes. There was a reason they gave him the title of 'most likely to trip on air' at the last Komori-Sakusa family reunion. He had plenty of scars on his elbows from falling off his bicycle and an almost permanent blue bruise on the side of his forehead from bumping into walls.
But none of that explained why he was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter of his new apartment with a packet of frozen potato wedges pressed to his nose.
“So, did you choose the banana uniforms, or do the banana uniforms choose you?” Suna blurted out abruptly in the otherwise silent room from where he was leaning against the opposite wall. If Komori hadn’t noticed the amused glint in his eyes and the thin lips tugging up in a smirk, he would pretend to be offended at the jab but the only rational thought that his mind could come up with was, Fuck Suna Rintarou, how dare he.
“I think it's fate,” Komori replied, trying to reply with a straight face but scrunched his eyebrows at how weird his voice sounded.
Suna snorted and walked closer to where Motoya was sitting. He gently pulled away the frozen bag and grabbed Motoya’s chin, turning his face right and left to assess the damage done. Motoya blinked back his tears. It took everything in him to remain relaxed and not scream at the twinges of pain going through his entire face.
It was only when Suna looked up and their eyes met that Motoya realized how close they actually were.
Suna's dull green eyes reflected his slightly flushed face and pinched eyebrows. Two beats passed, then three, and neither of them even blinked.
Only when Suna hesitantly moved away did Motoya allow himself to shift from his place on the counter, scanning Suna’s expression, which remained neutral as always.
Motoya tried telling himself that it meant nothing. It was just eye contact, and he was just being a gay idiot. He tried to pull his lips into a comforting smile and not do something that might deter their barely forming relationship. Though they were not exactly strangers — in the same age group and often meeting at tournaments — they weren’t exactly what someone would call the best of friends.
“It’s not broken for sure, but you should probably ice it for a bit more and take half a pain killer if the pain gets too much.” Suna mumbled quietly. His green eyes seemed to stare right through Motoya. If there was anything Suna had learned from years of being in the same friend circle as the Miya Twins, it was what a broken nose looked like.
All Motoya could manage was a nod and a thumbs-up as he climbed off the counter and tossed the bag of potato wedges into the kitchen sink, making a mental reminder to wash it later.
“I'm gonna go to the pharmacy to get an actual ice-pack then. Do you want anything?”
Suna hummed negative and swiftly turned on his heel and walked out into the small hallway.
“Kiyoomi, you won’t believe what happened today. I'm so embarrassed, I'm gonna die single.” Motoya whined lowly into the phone as soon as he walked out of the apartment. “Can you believe Suna Rintarou, that beautiful, beautiful human crafted by God’s own hands, hit my face with the door before I even entered the dorm and got settled in?”
2.
“Sunarin. No.”
“Motoya, please!” Suna was on his knees in the locker room. And while Motoya would enjoy the view if it were any other circumstance, they had just gotten out of morning practice and Motoya did not have enough functioning muscles after all those diving drills.
There was a sound of a door closing distantly and when the door connecting the showers to the locker room opened, it took Washio barely ten seconds to process the scene he had walked into before sighing and walking towards his bag.
“When you're in a team with Bokuto and Akaashi for two years, you learn to brace yourself for the worst when you’re walking into the locker room before and after practice,” he stated simply, opening the door to his locker and sorting out his clothes in his bags.
Suna snickered at the implication from his position on the floor while Motoya struggled to form a coherent sentence. Finally, he spluttered,, “I-It’s not what it looks like Washio-san !”
“Enjoy yourself and stay safe, kids,” Washio said, mock-saluting them with two fingers and walking out of the facility.
Motoya groaned and buried his face in his hands, mortified..
“Suna, I just want to go home, please dude,” Motoya begged the adamant asshole.
“And we will go home! Together! Just say you’ll let me do your eye makeup for the party tonight,” Suna insisted.
Motoya sighed and thumped his head on the locker behind him. “Okay, fine. Now please get up from that dirty-ass floor and go take a shower. I’ll wait for you.”
The grin that Suna gave Motoya was bright enough to rival both Atsumu’s and Hinata’s, and those fuckers had the brightest smiles in all of Japan. Motoya’s knees buckled and he flopped down on the bench and he wasn’t sure if it was because of how fucking beautiful Suna was or the tiredness of the exercises. He went with the latter because he would rather do a hundred more diving drills than admit to his very gay crush on his teammate in broad daylight.
--
“Okay, I’m gonna do the eyeliner before the mascara, do not move, and do not blame me if I accidentally stab you with the stick.”
Motoya leaned down in response so he could get closer to Suna’s eye level, the chair giving him a bit of height over the brunette. He had his eyes glued to the way Suna’s long fingers twisted open the cap to the eyeliner and if his thoughts took an unholy turn; he blamed it on the devil on his shoulder.
“Close your eyes,”
“Huh?” Motoya’s eyes snapped back to Suna, broken from the trance he had put himself in after imagining how he wanted to hold his dearest friend’s, yes, a friend , hands. He wondered if Rin’s fingers would fit in well with his.
“I need you to close your eyes so I can put the eyeliner on your eyelids, dude. You know the flippy things you have on your eyes.”
“I know what an eyelid is- wait - flippy what?”
“Just shut up and close your eyes, Toya,”
Motoya closed his eyes, trying not to think too much about the nickname, but he was very aware of the little grin on his face that was always there whenever he engaged in silly conversations with Suna.
He felt the smooth glide of the brush on his left eyelid first, the cool liquid eyeliner drying almost instantly as soon as the brush moved away to the other eye.
Motoya felt Rin’s hands ghost over his cheeks, but then he paused. Motoya felt his cheeks heat and his ever-curious self peeked open his right eye to sneak a look at Suna’s expression.
And of course, just to his luck, Suna chose that exact time to move too, stabbing his eye with the eyeliner stick, ripping out a strangled shout from Motoya.
“Ah fuck!”
“Toya!”
Motoya’s hands instinctively went to cover his eyes, but another hand stopped them.
“I’m not letting you ruin the other eye too”, was the only warning he got before Suna cupped his cheek and rested his thumbs on his cheekbones, blowing hot air in Motoya’s eyes to soothe the irritation that was most definitely there. Their proximity made Motoya forget all about the pain and just unblinkingly stare at the furrow between Suna’s eyebrows as he moved away.
“I told you not to open your eyes, dumbass.” Suna stared down at him, eyebrows scrunched and bottom lip tutted out.
“I’m sorry,” Motoya mumbled distractedly, trying to divert his mind from the very particular thoughts of grabbing Suna and kissing his concerned pout away. He couldn’t do that. Nope.
And as Suna moved closer again to wipe off the smudged eyeliner with a wet wipe, the former’s hand lingering on Motoya’s cheekbones, stroking them way too gently to consider it as just a fleeting moment, he finds he actually doesn't mind doing this every day even if it meant possibly losing his vision.
3.
“I’m telling you she’s the killer!”
“No, she is not! She looks suspicious, but there’s no way she would’ve done that all by herself. She’s so dumb.” Suna argues, tugging out his bag from the overhead luggage rack and swinging it over his shoulder.
“That’s rude!” Motoya gasps.
“You are one to talk about being rude.” Suna rolled his eyes as they stepped out of the bus, wincing as the sun hit his face suddenly. He scrunched up his face, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden light.
“I’ll have you know I’m an absolute angel,” Motoya grumbles, trying to untangle the straps of his bags stuck in the rods of the rack.
“Let me get that for you” Suna backtracked his steps, climbing back up on the bus. As Suna's chest pressed against Motoya’s back in the narrow aisle of the bus, he tried not to think of how Motoya would be a perfect fit against him if they cuddled.
‘Oh, I’m fucked.’ Suna glanced down at the top of the brunette’s head, which suddenly looked very kissable.
Inhaling sharply to put an end to his thoughts, he lifted the bag and balanced it on the edge of the rack, his other hand reaching for the knotted straps.
He reached for one strap and tugged on the bag as it came loose, but in his mission to release the bag, he didn’t expect Motoya’s hand to be there as well.
The brush of their fingers had goosebumps running up his arms and he could only hope that Motoya didn’t sense the full body shiver he felt. And if things couldn’t get worse, he dropped his bag.
On Motoya’s head.
“Fuck!” they both said at the same time. While Motoya’s was more of a screech, Suna’s was just a horrified whisper.
“I’m so sorry, how bad is it?” Suna quickly slung the bag on his vacant shoulder, turning Motoya around as the latter rubbed his head.
“I’m fine! The bag is not that heavy. It’s just the solid part at the bottom that hit my head. It was just momentary pain.” Motoya reassured Suna, placing a hand on his shoulder and patting his chest. A soft smile sneaking its way on his face at the thought of the middle blocker being worked up over him.
“Are you sure?” The concerned look returned, furrowed eyebrows and a pout, a look Motoya was way too used to seeing on Suna’s face.
Before Motoya could answer, they heard someone calling out for them outside the bus and Suna quietly handed Motoya’s bag back to him, shuffling to the side to let him walk out first.
As they reached the rest of the team huddled near the reception, Washio handed Suna and Komori their keycard. “You can thank me later for letting you both have the biggest room.”
“Washio-san! You’re the best !”
“Yeah whatever” Washio waved his hand dismissively as Komori fist bumped the air.
The pain seemed to be forgotten as Suna and Komori rushed to their room. Suna knew the team did not have any games soon and practice wasn’t until later in the evening. He was ready to put on a facemask and go the hell to sleep.
Suna floated in his own thoughts as Motoya filled the surrounding hallway with mindless chatter. Suna didn’t even notice when the mindless chatter had become a source of comfort for him.
Back in highschool, it was Atsumu and Osamu’s constant bickering that provided him a sense of safety unlike the cold dead walls of his house, so it felt only natural to be attracted to Motoya.
It was only when he bumped into Motoya’s back who stood frozen in front of the open door of their room for the weekend, did he snap out of his thoughts.
“Is something wrong?”
“There’s only one bed.”
“Huh?” Suna peeked inside and lo-and-behold—there was a single queen sized bed with the most gorgeous white duvet Suna had ever seen. It wasn’t the most important detail in the room, but Suna’s eyes instantly zeroed in on the candles setup on the bedside drawers.
“Does Washio-san and the team think we’re dating?” Suna thought out loud, pushing Motoya into the room and shutting the door behind them .
“Is it because of what happened in the locker room?” Komori scrunched his eyebrows thoughtfully as he toed off his shoes beside the small wooden cupboard.
Suna hummed in agreement, opening the cupboard to keep his bag inside, pulling out his charger and his phone from the side pocket.
When he was closing the cupboard, he noticed Motoya running his hands through his hair and wincing.
Suna slammed the doors shut, drawing Motoya’s eyes towards him, slightly widened at the sudden noise.
Suna clenched his fingers around the handle of the door, cool metal slowly turning warm under the heat of his palms.
“Do you-” Suna gulped, suddenly unsure of his words.
“Do I?” Motoya questioned further, his caterpillar eyebrows raised, a hopeful look in his eyes.
“Do you want me to massage your head if it still hurts?'' Suna said, a little too fast to be comprehensible, but from the slight shade of pink on Motoya’s cheeks it seemed he understood him.
Suna bit his lip in anticipation and noticed Motoya’s eyes darted downwards, cheeks darkening. It was so quick Suna felt better if he convinced himself that it was a trick of his desperate mind.
“I’m all ready for you to show me a good time baby boy,” Motoya replied by tossing his bag on the floor and rushing towards the bed. He slightly bounced off the soft sheet, nearly hitting his head on the headboard.
“Fucking idiot.” Suna rolled his eyes fondly, making his way to the bed and settling against the headboard, adjusting two of the plush pillows behind his back.
Motoya made himself comfortable, head resting on Suna’s thigh, his eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling.
“I think” Motoya started before a yawn slipped past his lips, cutting off whatever he was about to say. Suna tried to relax as he slowed the continued motions of his hand in Motoya’s hair, and he could feel the latter’s breath getting heavier.
“I wouldn’t mind it”
“Huh?”
“Wouldn’t mind dating you,” Motoya said before his eyes slipped shut and soft snores filled the bedroom. Suna could barely hear the snores over the loud beats of his heart and the heat taking over his body .
4.
Something changed between them since that night in the hotel. Suna was more cautious around Motoya, not completely avoiding him, but his actions were hesitant.
Motoya wasn't sensitive. So Suna’s blatant attempts at avoiding Motoya weren’t that hurtful-he knew he wasn’t even good at it- the glances he tried sneaking across the dining table towards Motoya were not as discreet as he thought they were; considering the amount of times he made eye contact with the subject of his desires.
But everything has a limit, and it was clear that Motoya had reached him with the way he cornered Suna outside his room early in the morning just as he was about to leave for his morning run.
“Kiyo called. The twins and gang are going out for a picnic later today. They want to know if we’d like to join them.” Motoya had said with determination set in his face and he knew he wasn’t being asked. It was a demand that came from the shorter man’s mouth.
The park they met the others in was a pretty place. Surrounded by a garden and at least a hundred types of flowers and trees, it was a perfect picnic spot and it was right across the train station, making the trip easier for them.
Motoya and Suna were walking around the park. The silence between them was unfamiliar, and Suna felt the apology bubbling up in his throat.
He picked up a fallen rose from the bush and shoved it in Motoya’s hand, closing his fist around the other's hand, an “I’m sorry” spilling from his mouth before he speed walked away to the designated table without waiting for a reply, knowing Motoya would follow him anyway.
Reaching the table, Suna coughed to get the attention of the two couples-namely Osamu and his onigiri and Atsumu and Kiyoomi.
Greetings were exchanged, and Motoya asked Kiyoomi for a bandaid on reaching the table. Both the cousins giving Suna the stink eye as he tried to distract himself by engaging in a conversation with Osamu pointedly ignoring the rose thorn laying on the table that had been pulled out of Motoya’s hand.
Suna hung his head low, realizing once again he was successful in hurting Motoya even if it was unintentional. The whole reason Suna had been tip-toeing around Motoya was because his feelings got too overwhelming for him to deal with . Every time he made eye contact with those silly little eyebrows, his bones shook with the need to get closer to the brunette.
As the sun started to set, Atsumu and Kiyoomi had rn off to an ice-cream stall they had seen on their way to the park while Osamu had left early to pick up his visiting boyfriends.
They were walking back to the train station to go home when Suna felt the urge to do soemthing stupid again. Motoya was stuffing his mouth with the dango Osamu had given them to take home and he looked so adorable. Suna felt his self-control lying away.
“Can I hold your hand?” Suna muttered, his mouth running faster than his thoughts. Motoya snapped his neck back towards him, eyes uncharacteristically wide, a flush in his cheeks. He searched Suna’s eyes, as if confirming if he wasn’t hallucinating, and those words actually came out of his teammate’s mouth.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to-”
“Shut up,” Motoya breathed out, extending his hand backwards to where Suna was standing, their fingers barely making contact.
Suna could see the goosebumps rising on Motoya’s arm as he enveloped the slim fingers with his own and- Oh, their hands fit perfectly. Suna could feel his heart in his throat and he hoped Motoya couldn't feel his heartbeat through his hands. He softly traced the bandaid on Motoya’s hand, the familiar feeling of guilt and embarrassment washing over him.
--
“Ya saw me this morning. Do ya miss me already, Rin-Rin?” Osamu teased after he picked up the phone after a total of six rings, which, yes, Suna counted. He was on the edge of the bed because of how anxious he felt.
“Let me come stay at your apartment. I don't think I can survive here any longer.” Suna said in one breath, not even registering what Osamu said.
“Naw what the hell? My apartment is barely enough for me, and Kou and Kaashi are visiting right now.”
“Osamu, you don’t understand. I almost kissed him! Again ! ” Suna whined, one hand pulling at his grown-out hair, while the other clutched his phone desperately.
“I don’t know what you want me to do about it?! It’s not like you don’t want to kiss him! Just go kiss him and put all of us out of our misery. Yer worse than what ‘Tsumu was like with Omi-kun.” Osamu grunted and Suna could see him readjust someone’s head behind him in the video at the corner of his phone.
Suna let out an affronted gasp at the accusation. “Fuck you! Don’t compare me to those heathens while you’re sitting on the lap of one of your perfectly comfortable boyfriends!”
“What do ya want me to do? Get off cause I pity ya? Cause I ain't doing that. Like ya said, they’re perfectly comfortable. On that note, do ya know Kou recently changed his workout routine, and he comes home all sleepy and shit? M’kinda worried about him, but he is so adorable. Look at him snuggling me.” Osamu smiles dreamily and pans up his phone to show the double-toned head laying on his shoulder.
“I’m thrilled for ya, Samu, but I’m going. I’ve had enough of you simps. Both ya and ‘Tsumu are useless at giving advice,” Suna grumbles, hanging up the phone before Osamu could even reply and flopping in the starfish position on the fluffy bed.
“Your accent is coming out again”
Suna jumps up from the sudden presence in the room as he groans into the pillow under him.
“How long have ya been here?” He asked, his tone a lot calmer than the storm brewing in his eyes.
“Just heard you curse out Miya-san at the end. Wanna tell me what that was about?” Motoya asked while taking a seat beside Suna’s head, one of his legs hanging off the side of the bed, the other one tucked under his knee.
“Sick and tired of perfect people shoving their perfect relationships in my face,” Suna grumbled. Motoya didn’t ask anymore questions after that,sliding down the bed. They basked in each other's bodily warmth, minutes barely passed before the silence took over them and they drifted asleep, pinkies unconsciously intertwined.
+1
It was a good day. A fantastic day even. It started with Motoya wrapped around him and even if they hadn’t talked about anything Suna was enjoying the attention. He felt understood why everyone around them was absolutely whipped for their partners. He could faintly hear ‘so this is love’ playing somewhere in the back of his head as he sat on the couch and scrolled through his phone. He snapped out of his thoughts when a sudden weight plopped themself in his lap, plucking away the phone from his hands.
“Well, hello there,” Suna wrapped his arms around Motoya’s torso,adjusting his legs slightly, making sure the other man was comfortable. The eye contact between them was charged and Suna found himself gulping, eyes slipping down to the plush lips of the other before glancing back up at his eyes again. He saw Motoya's eyes light up with something akin to mischief and without a warning, the lush lips were on his, an embarrassing noise escaping his throat as he kissed his almost lover back.
They broke off the contact, both of their faces flushed and breath heavy as they searched each other’s eyes for something. Motoya licked his upper lip, a nervous habit. Another fact logged in the book of ‘Motoya Facts’ in Suna's brain.
“Oh,” Suna broke the silence , lifting Motoya off his lap and onto the seat beside his, knees still touching.
“What’s wrong?
“There’s blood in my mouth”
“There’s- there’s what in your mouth?” Motoya was baffled. How did Suna sound so casual? Maybe it was the side effect of spending years around Kiyoomi but even the mention of blood was enough to send Motoya into an internal frenzy.
“Blood,” Suna repeated, nonchalantly.
“I didn’t kiss you that hard, did I?!” Motoya got up from the couch and peered over Suna, looking awfully frazzled for someone who wasn’t even the one bleeding.
“Huh? No? It’s just-” Suna slid his tongue over his teeth, sucking in his cheek, face souring at the salty taste. Showing with his hands that they would continue the conversation later, he got up and walked into the bathroom, spitting out the blood with his saliva. Repeating the motion of sucking in his cheek, he hummed when he didn’t taste the blood anymore. He didn't even notice Motoya had followed him until he heard his voice from the doorway.
“What the fuck?”
“Maybe,” He cups his hands under the faucet “You kissed me too hard,” He sloshes around the water in his mouth and spits it out again. Making sure there was no more of the salty fluid in his mouth, cleaning away the taste with the mouthwash.
“Well, I’m sorry!? Do you want me to kiss it better? ” Motoya gestures around the air wildly, exasperated at the whole situation.
Suna raises his head to meet Motoya’s eyes through the mirror, “Of course,” He said with an innocent smile, mirth twinkling in his eyes.
“You’re insane.” Motoya breathed out but moved closer.
“And you’re in love with me. What does that say about you? '' Suna drawls teasingly, leaning against the sink.
“It says that I’m an enabler and should probably stop.”
“Oh.”
“What now? Is it more blood?” Motoya stopped in his tracks, panic flitting in his expression.
“No, uh, no, you just didn’t deny it,” Suna mumbles, hiding his chin into his shoulder, eyes darting around the bathroom and fixing on the fruit-scented shampoo bottles.
“Why should I deny something that’s already obvious?” Motoya resumed his steps towards where Suna was standing against the sink with his usual slump, back shaped like a cashew. If it wasn’t such an intense moment, Motoya would have reprimanded him for it, but all he could focus on for now was how Suna’s eyes kept nervously darting down to his lips.
Seeing the usually emotionless eyes of the brunette turn nervous gave Motoya some confidence. It made it easier for him to place one of his hands behind Suna’s neck and pull him closer, the other on the counter, effectively caging the middle blocker between himself and the counter.
“Tell me if I kiss you too hard, yeah? Don’t want to hurt you again, sweet cheeks.” Motoya whispered softly against Suna’s lips, their noses almost touching.
“Please never call me that again,” Suna choked out, before Motoya was interlocking their lips again, both of them feeling the other’s heart racing from where their chests pressed against each other.