Work Text:
“Remind me again how working together is supposed to help our grades if neither of us knows what we’re doing?” Hinata frowns down at his paper, brow furrowed as he tries his hardest to make sense of the jumble of numbers on the page before him.
“Because.” Kageyama sighs, irritated. “Tsukishima was supposed to come, and he backed out at the last minute. Dumbass.” The last word is hissed under his breath, and Hinata rolls his eyes, turning back to stare at his paper in silence for a few moments. Kageyama isn’t even entirely sure whether he was referring to Hinata or Tsukishima. Right now, both of them are ranking pretty high on the aggravation scale.
“You know,” Hinata finally speaks up, “Since we’re not getting anywhere anyway… we could practice spiking?” He blinks hopefully at Kageyama. With one final glance down at the offending math homework, Kageyama is quick to agree.
“Okay, but only for a little.” His admonition is drowned out by Hinata’s celebratory whoop, and after a quick search for a volleyball they’re standing in Kageyama’s backyard as Kageyama lazily spins the volleyball between his fingertips.
“We should probably warm up first. You know what Diachi’ll say if you pull a muscle right before the practice match Tuesday.”
“Me?” Hinata squawks. “What about you? I bet you’d pull a muscle before me anyway, Bakageyama.”
“Don’t call me that, dumbass.” Kageyama gives a warning glare. “Just start stretching.” Hinata begrudgingly complies, and as Kageyama goes through the familiar motions of his own stretches, his gaze wanders to Hinata. He sees him stretch all the time, but he never ceases to be amazed by how flexible the guy is. It’s almost unnatural. The hem of Hinata’s shirt pulls up slightly to reveal a triangle of creamy skin. Something leaps in Kageyama’s chest and he feels his cheeks begin to flush, quickly averting his gaze with a scowl. He shouldn’t be watching Hinata stretch anyway. It’s weird.
“Are you finished yet?” He finally snaps, unsettled for a reason he can’t quite place.
“Yeah, yeah. Geez. It was your idea to stretch anyway.” Hinata mutters, coupled with something unintelligible that Kageyama can guess probably wasn’t too kind. “Now come on! Toss to me!” Hinata’s frown is quickly replaced with a hopeful grin, bouncing lightly on his toes in anticipation. Kageyama swallows hard at the way his eyes light up. He’d seen that expression a thousand times, so why it should look any different this time is beyond him.
Shrugging the odd sensation off with a quick roll of his neck, Kageyama throws the ball in the air and positions himself beneath it, poised to make the toss he’d made countless times before. It’s a familiar, fluid motion, and Hinata’s running leap is just as familiar, happening in the moments it takes him to launch the ball from his fingertips but somehow leaving enough time for him to aim it for the place he knows Hinata’s palm will be. It’s always been this way.
Tossing to Hinata is one of Kageyama’s favorite things, though he’d die before admitting it. There’s no holding back from the moment Hinata’s feet leave the ground. All the power and intensity that make his muscles ache from restraint is finally released, Hinata’s there simply because he said he would be and even though blind trust had never been his style something about the way Hinata never even opens his eyes when his palm cuts through the air gives Kageyama a rush like few other things can. This oddball quick strike they’d stumbled across almost entirely by accident has quickly become their strongest weapon. They’re branching out and learning new attacks and while growing and changing and becoming are all part of what it means to be an athlete, the old familiar quick will always be Kageyama’s favorite. That’s probably why no matter how effortless it has become for them it’s always the first thing they practice. It just goes without saying.
*
‘Only for a little’ quickly turns into hours of practice as Kageyama should have predicted. When they finally stop, drawing shallow breaths and mopping sweat from their faces with the hems of their t-shirts (“Stop looking” Kageyama frowns to himself, focusing his attention on the volleyball balanced between his fingertips instead of Hinata’s pale middle), Hinata beams at Kageyama.
“Boys?” Kaeyama’s mother calls from the doorway. “I have some milk and cookies here if you’d like.”
At the prospect, Hinata’s eyes light up almost as brightly as they do when Kageyama agrees to toss to him. For someone so small, he keeps up with Kageyama cookie for cookie. Maybe he’d eaten a few too many in hopes of outdoing Hinata, because the funny feeling is back in his stomach.
“That was way better than studying, wasn’t it?” Hinata finally speaks up after downing the last dregs of milk from his cup.
“Yeah.” Kageyama agrees readily. “But we still should have done a little more work.” One of them has to be the sensible one, and it certainly isn’t going to be Hinata.
“Pah, we’ll be fine.” Hinata dismisses the thought with a wave of his hand. “We’ll find Tsukishima at lunch tomorrow. He’ll explain everything to us then.” He hurriedly gathers his things, shoving notebooks and loose papers haphazardly in his school bag. “My mom’s gonna start wondering where I am. Thanks for letting me come over, Kageyama! Practice was great.” He grins. “And thanks for the snack, Kageyama-san!” He adds in Kageyama’s mother’s direction. She’d been easily bewitched by his sunshiny smile and gushing appreciation.
“It’s no trouble, Hinata-kun.” She smiles almost fondly at him. “You come over whenever you want. It’s been a while since Tobio has had a friend here.” Kageyama scowls at her at that, but she purposefully ignores his glare, turning back to her magazine and cup of tea.
“Thanks, Kageyama-san!” Hinata says once more before looping his bag over his shoulder, reaching for the door knob. “See you at school tomorrow, Kageyama!” He shoots one final grin in Kageyama’s direction before ducking out the door, jumping on his bike and pedaling off into the pink and orange sunset. For a few seconds too long, Kageyama stands in the open doorway and watches him go, feeling the strange tug at his middle again. He really shouldn’t have eaten all of those cookies, especially after a workout like the one he’d gotten that afternoon.
“Hinata is a good friend, isn’t he?” His mother asks when he finally turns back inside and closes the door behind him. Kageyama shrugs.
“I guess.” He agrees ambiguously. It’s strange because ‘friend’ is never a word he’d considered in reference to Hinata before. Classmate, yes. Teammate, yes (begrudgingly at first). Partner, even. But friend? Somehow that word doesn’t fit quite right either, and he can’t even put his finger on why.