Work Text:
It’s during a sleepy morning that Hinata’s phone rings.
There are no plans for today – the obligations for the year are over, and it’s officially the resting period until the start of the next season. For Hinata, it’s a strange limbo to be in. His first year in the Piston Cup circuit had been an electrifying, exhilarating, and strangely emotional ride. A kind of stress that he didn’t know he’d love so much, the sheer thrill of hurtling his beloved car around a track for hours at breakneck speeds, the competition of it all, even the pressure… He already misses it, a buzz that he’s desperate to have again.
Kageyama finally took his crown this year, a slight delay to a championship that was always rightfully his. In his truest, most secret moments, Hinata hadn’t really expected to take it from him, not yet, not at the very beginning. But he did come in second place, which many would say is just the first of the losers, not momentous in any way other than how he came out of literally nowhere, but Hinata doesn’t care. He’s still proud, a rare, shining achievement that he’s been waiting his entire life to even catch a glimpse of.
And now, with the press tour finished, and aside from occasional visits to Dinoco for tests and practice, he’s free. He’s home. Back in his little house in Karasuno Springs and sometimes he wakes up and feels for a second like nothing has changed.
Until he stretches across the bed and finds Kageyama’s sleepy warm body inches from him, still dead to the world and occasionally snoring soundly.
(Kageyama is far from a lazy person but apparently, he and mornings don’t really mix, much to Hinata’s personal entertainment.)
Hinata’s still lying in bed, steadily inching his way across Kageyama’s body like a caterpillar, in a stupid game of how much weight can he press down upon him before Kageyama awakens from suffocation, when his phone starts rattling across his bedside table.
He’s tempted to ignore it – it’s so early, who could possibly want him at this hour? – but niggling curiosity gets the better of him. If it were one of the townsfolk, they would have just knocked on his door. So it’s definitely someone from outside of town.
Huffing, he shuffles his way off of Kageyama’s front from where he’d been half sprawled across his torso and flings out his hand to smack around the bedside table until his palm hits his phone.
“Hello? Oh! Hey! Yeah, it’s been ages, sorry I got… kinda busy…”
Hinata rolls up into a sitting position and perches at the edge of the bed, doing his best to keep his voice low so as to not startle Kageyama out of sleep. The conversation is short, mindful of the early hours, and the other party breaks off fairly quickly, their morning clearly a lot livelier than Hinata’s.
Hanging up and bouncing his phone from loose fingers, Hinata smiles to himself, excitement beginning to tickle. He stretches, ready to get up and have a shower to start the day – Kageyama will join him eventually – when a large palm slides across the sheets and up along his thigh.
“Oh, good morning,” he snorts as the mattress dips, feeling Kageyama sleepily press his face against the small of his back.
“Were you talking to someone?” Kageyama mumbles in reply.
Hinata twists slightly so that he can look down at his half-asleep slug of a boyfriend and idly play with his hair. It’s so unfair how it never gets tangled, unlike his – always a bird’s nest first thing in the morning. “My friend, Heitor, called,” he explains, a grin tugging at his mouth as the excitement surges back. “We used to race together on the dirt track circuit.”
Kageyama’s eyebrows knit together in sleepy confusion, though his eyes remain shut, and he hums quietly to encourage Hinata to continue.
“There’s a meet this weekend, it’s a been a while since I’ve been” – a whole year in fact, it’s not like he had any time to attend one during the Piston Cup – “and he was saying I should go. ‘Before I get too busy in the fancy leagues’ were his words.”
One singular blue eye cracks open, but before Kageyama can say anything, Hinata barrels on, enthusiasm catching hold of him before he can stop it. “You’ll come with me, right? To race as well, obviously. It’s so much fun, you’ll love it, I promise, even if you might slip all over the place at first – “
Kageyama’s loud yawn cuts him off and he drapes an arm further across his lap. “Sure, okay,” he says, voice heavy with drowsiness, and he closes his eye again and tries to burrow back into the covers.
Hinata shoves his shoulder before he can get too comfy, grinning wider when Kageyama grunts his disapproval. “Come on then! Up!”
“Why…?”
“I need to fix up our cars! You can’t take them to the dirt races as they are now! The suspension needs to be changed, and the brakes, and obviously the tyres… don’t worry I know how to do it all but with two cars it’ll take me twice as long so you’ve got to get up already so I can get a move on!”
Kageyama’s face scrunches unhappily as he forces himself to sit up, rubbing at one eye roughly with a fist. Hinata squints at him for a moment, trying to piece together why he still looks so disgruntled. It can’t be just from being forced to get up, he’s not usually that grumpy about it… oh. Of course.
“I can show you how to do the modifications on your car, if you’d rather do them yourself,” he offers kindly, looping his arms around Kageyama’s shoulders in a loose hug.
The annoyance fades from Kageyama’s face in an instant, even if he still looks rather sleepy. He still prefers to do any work on his car himself – a tradition that he just can’t let go of, but one that Hinata will always respect. It is quite personal. “Thank you.”
Hinata gives him a little squeeze and presses a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re welcome. Now hurry up and get out of bed, geez!”
“You haven’t gotten out of bed either…”
“Hey, Shouyou!”
“Heitor!” Hinata beams widely as he easily spots his friend – practically a head above everyone else, it’s never difficult to find Heitor.
The clearing in the desert just outside the small town of Musubi, shy of an hour’s leisurely drive from Karasuno Springs, looks desolate most days of the year. But when the dirt track races are on, it comes alive – with stalls selling food, drink, trinkets, and accessories dotted around and huge sections of carefully carved earth set up for racing. There are cars and other vehicles – trucks, motorcycles, even quadbikes and lorries – everywhere, either parked haphazardly or speeding around a track or idling in small groups of likeminded fans. And there are so many people – the Piston Cup is packed, but the dirt races are a different breed altogether, from the stall owners to the spectators to the racers to the volunteers trying to put together tyre barriers at the last second.
Everywhere you look is a person or an engine and the entire place stinks of oil and fried food and warm beer, buried under a cacophony of laughing voices and screaming exhausts and Hinata has missed it so much.
Practically elbowing his way through the crowd and vaguely hoping that Kageyama is following him, Hinata scrambles up to where Heitor is waving.
His friend practically folds himself in half to bend down to give Hinata a bracing hug when he makes it, and Hinata sinks into it happily.
“Hey there, Champ.”
"Nice!" Extracting himself from Heitor’s embrace with a pop, Hinata turns, ready to give Heitor’s wife a similarly strong hug when he stops dead, eyes going round in awe.
The new-born strapped into the harness on Nice’s front gazes up at him, eyes huge and dark, his tiny mouth pursed in the sort of complicated thought only achieved by very small babies: who is this person?
“Oh, he’s so tiny…” Hinata coos, unable to stop himself melting instantly and extending a finger, feeling his smile stretch wide enough to hurt his cheeks as the little baby curls his entire miniature hand around his fingertip with a curious burble.
“He looks small now, but you should see how long he is! Seriously, he’s definitely inherited his father’s height…”
As pleasantries are exchanged and Hinata idly bounces his fingers and pulls faces to try and extract a giggle out of the baby, a little bit of shame curls in his chest. He knew Heitor and Nice had a son, of course, they’d spoken a lot over the phone during the last year. But he still feels bad for not visiting as much. Before, he saw them at least every month, if not weekly depending on what dirt races were on, but he’s been so busy with professional racing that he’s been practically absent recently. He knows that Heitor and Nice would never hold it against him, and they’ve been nothing but proud and happy for him, but even so… he vows to do better this year. He should be able to fit in at least a few visits for his friends.
“And… hey! You must be Kageyama!”
Hinata looks over his shoulder with another pang of guilt at his boyfriend, who is lurking a couple of feet behind him, torn between looking awkward and a little startled at Heitor’s sudden address. Snapping to attention, Hinata darts over and grabs Kageyama’s hand, using his slack shock to his advantage to tug him over.
“This is Heitor and Nice,” he says, a little unnecessarily – he already told Kageyama all about them this morning – but perhaps the introduction will help Kageyama feel a bit less out of place.
“Kageyama Tobio, it’s nice to meet you,” Kageyama says with only the slightest bit of stiffness, inclining his head gently.
Nice slides right up to him with a sly smile and questions on her lips, and Kageyama freezes up all over again, though Hinata isn’t sure whether it’s from Nice’s peppering or the very small child that’s suddenly only inches from Kageyama’s shirt.
“You’re going to look at the sign-up lists later, right?” Heitor cuts in over his wife’s chatter. “Spots for the big races all went ages ago, like usual, but there’s still plenty of spaces in all the others. You better not have come all the way here just to watch!”
“I’m not!” Hinata returns out of reflex, and he doublechecks that Kageyama is definitely starting to relax again around Nice before giving Heitor his full attention. “I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from joining in even if I wanted to. It’s Kageyama’s first time here, though, so we’ll probably look around for a bit before signing up for anything… you’re racing for cash, right?”
“You bet. And with another little mouth to feed, the pressure’s really on,” Heitor says around a grin, shooting his tiny son a fond look. “But with you out of the picture it’s definitely gotten much easier, so thanks for that.”
He digs his elbow into Hinata’s side before clapping a hand on his shoulder. “And speaking of, I probably should go get ready for the first event. We’ll meet back up with you later, alright? Let me know what events you guys pick!”
“Yes, I want to see Kageyama race!” Nice agrees, giving Kageyama a fond pat on the forearm – who offers her a mildly constipated smile in return – before rearranging her baby in his harness and joining her husband as he turns to head off.
As Heitor and Nice disappear into the crowd, Hinata reaches out and snags Kageyama’s hand, giving it a light tug when he feels long fingers curl around his. “Come on, let’s go and find some food first. It’s good to soak up the atmosphere before just leaping into an event when it’s your first time!”
Which is what Ukai had told him when he’d been taken here over three years ago, wide eyed and lost. The memory is both a fond and sad one, and he shakes his head to clear it, gripping Kageyama’s hand firmly as he leads them through the crowd.
“What kind of events do they have here?” Kageyama asks, speaking loudly to be heard over the general noise.
“Everything from time attacks, rallies, to simple ‘first over the finish line wins’,” Hinata replies, eyeballing a food stand with a small queue and making a beeline for it. Good thing Kageyama’s not a fussy eater. “Most of them are hobby meets, where everyone can enter. The ones with money involved usually have local sponsors or a jackpot made of everyone’s entry fees. They’re throughout the day, but the really big ones are at the end, and you have to sign up in advance. But it’s okay, we’re only here to have fun.”
“Don’t you get special privileges, Mr. Dirt Champion?”
“I haven’t been here for a year!” Hinata laughs as he drops money into the food vendor’s waiting palm and takes their servings gleefully, stomach rumbling. “Most people probably won’t even know who the hell I am now…”
“You just came second in the Piston Cup.”
“Well, you just won it – “ Hinata starts to say, but as he’s handing over Kageyama’s share of food, he notices how his boyfriend is ducking his head slightly, like he’s trying to make himself look inconspicuous behind his decidedly too small sunglasses. Hinata really does need to buy him a bigger pair for the desert sun.
Grinning in sudden, amused realisation, Hinata shoves his own food at Kageyama with a “hold this!” and darts off, ignoring Kageyama’s confused shout behind him. It’s not like he’s going to be long anyway, rushing over to a nearby stall and throwing change at the seller for the first baseball cap that he can grab. He’s back in a flash and shoving it onto Kageyama’s head, snickering at the bright white ‘HOLLYWOOD’ stitched across its front. It’s pretty gaudy and not very subtle at all, but hopefully the brim of it will help shield Kageyama’s face from the staring public. Looks like more than a few people recognise the new Piston Cup champion.
“It’s really busy…” Kageyama comments around a mouthful of food as they meander slowly over to where the main stand is for sign-ups. He reaches up and fiddles with the brim of his new cap. Apparently, having a cripplingly stupid hat is far less embarrassing than being stared at.
Hinata grins and digs an elbow lightly into Kageyama’s side. “I told you dirt racing is popular!”
He’s missed it in recent months travelling for the Piston Cup – the bustle of people of all ages, the stands and the sellers, groups of friends or families coming to watch and the serious racers here for the thrill and the money. Most are local, but many travel from all over, such is the wide variety of events not only to see, but also to compete in. Hinata loves the hyperfocus of the Piston Cup, but the broad inclusivity of the dirt tracks brings a familiar, unpredictable level of exhilaration.
Shoving the rest of his food into his mouth and sucking the excess off his fingers, Hinata reaches for Kageyama’s hand again to give him a little tug, drawing him in the direction of the main visitor stand. It’s busy – it always is – with schedules for drivers and spectators alike, but it’s huge with plenty of staff and it doesn’t take long to find an empty spot along the wide counter to peruse one of the many sign-up sheets.
Most spots have already been taken, filled up in advance or earlier in the day, but there are still a few left. Hinata lets Kageyama stand in front to have a look – it’s his first time, so he should have first pick.
Kageyama drags his finger down the list of events, looking intrigued but a little unsure – and Hinata senses that it’s not simple indecision.
“You won’t embarrass yourself, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says, pitching his voice so that only Kageyama can hear him. “Most of the people competing will be amateur hobbyists, anyway, so you’re likely to do well with sheer experience and a better car. Besides, it’s about having fun today.”
Granted, if Hinata hadn’t shown the man how to drift it’d be a whole different story, but fortunately for Kageyama, he’s since been suitably educated.
The hesitation smooths off of Kageyama’s face and he goes back to reading through, leaving Hinata to happily chat to a staff member who had caught them looking that he recognises from previous years.
“I think I’ll do a time-attack,” Kageyama announces at last, interrupting Hinata’s chat just as he’s starting to get into the benefits of dirt vs asphalt. “It’ll be easier to concentrate on.”
“Good choice!” Hinata approves, shoving a pen into Kageyama’s hand so that he can officially scribble his name down. “They’re definitely less chaotic than other races.”
“What are you going to do?”
Hinata hums, scanning the list again. He could go for a classic, first over the line race, but the top levels he normally races in are already full. So maybe a time-attack as well, so that he can compete with Kageyama…
“Why not rallying?”
“Huh?” Hinata looks up, raising his eyebrows at the staff member that he’d been chatting to who’d made the sudden suggestion. “Rallying?”
“Yeah! You already came here with someone who could be your partner – why not? There’re still a few spots left.”
Hinata snorts and waves a hand. “Nah,” he says shortly, bending over the list again a little forcefully when the staff member lets out a disappointed “Really?”
“Rallying?” Kageyama breaks in. Hinata can practically hear his curious frown.
“Yeah, they have a rally course here,” Hinata explains, speaking before the staff member can get in with a spiel. “Three separate sections, all different, and they’re all timed. The idea is to get around each section with your partner as fast as possible. Of course, no-one knows the route until you’re given the directions at the start, so it’s all blind too. It’s fun, but I’m bad at it.”
“I thought you said today was about having fun?” Kageyama says, and Hinata feels his shoulders hunch slightly reflexively. Why is Kageyama so stupidly good at striking at his weak points? “You just told me to not worry about embarrassing myself, aren’t you being a little hypocritical?”
Hinata feels his face heat and hunches a little more to try and hide it, frustration burning his skin. Because, okay, he wanted to show off a little, but is that a crime? He’s here on home turf, and Kageyama has the Piston Cup trophy right now, so it would be a really nice opportunity come out on top for once –
“Why are you bad at it, anyway? Dirt racing is your thing.”
Hinata would stab Kageyama’s hand with the pen that he’s holding but, unfortunately, he did sign up for a lifetime of dealing with Kageyama’s complete lack of tact or nuance, so he will have to swallow this bitter attack on his ego. “It’s not the terrain, or the speed,” he says, through slightly gritted teeth, “but the way it’s set up.”
He straightens slightly when Kageyama doesn’t reply and feels a strange sense of relief wash away some of his humiliation when he finds his boyfriend tilting his head at him curiously. At least he's not looking judgemental. “The sections change each time, right? It’s hard to practice when it’s blind, and it’s so quick that it’s hard to keep up.”
A little crease appears between Kageyama’s eyebrows. “… I think you need to explain it more.”
Hinata sighs. He keeps forgetting that Kageyama’s knowledge of driving off of asphalt is practically non-existent. At least he’s more open to learning now.
“So you have two people in the car – a navigator and the driver. The navigator gets given notes just before the race with the directions for the circuit – they relay these directions, however they like, to the driver as they go around the track. The idea is to get around as fast possible, with the driver relying on the navigator to tell them what’s coming up along the circuit, like bends and stuff. There are three sections here, and they’re changed up each time, so no-one knows what’s coming, and fastest team overall wins.”
“… Do people crash?”
“Not into each other, you go around the track on your own. But people spin off the track all the time, yeah. But they have tyre walls and dirt mounds and stuff to kind of like, cushion you.”
Kageyama still looks a little perturbed, but he nods along regardless. “So what’s your issue?”
Hinata bites back the urge to kick his shin. “I’m not great at relaying the instructions,” he bites out, that earlier feeling of humiliation washing over him again with a vengeance. “I get flustered, I guess. I find driving easier, but the whole thing is so fast I usually misunderstand the code or miss the instruction and by the time you ask for clarification you’ve spun off the corner. It’s still fun! I’ve done it a few times, but it is stressful.”
His gaze drops to the floor, not wanting to look up and see what expression is creasing over Kageyama’s face now. Because even though connecting with his crew chief at Dinoco wasn’t as hard as he’d been expecting, that race with Vitoline still haunts him. Like a hangover that he just can’t shake – an instinctual fear of furious, panicked shouts in his ear and echoing around his helmet, as simple instructions morph into undecipherable code –
Long fingers curl around his wrist, and Hinata peeks up tentatively, a little pulse of shock rippling through him when he catches the unexpected, soft look on Kageyama’s face.
“Surely it’s like any other racing,” Kageyama says practically, his matter-of-fact tone at slight odds with his gentle expression. Hinata’s stomach twists over itself – Kageyama has this uncanny way of just seeing things sometimes. Can he see this too? How Hinata had still been healing –
“You work out your code beforehand, you get better with practice,” Kageyama goes on, still in that same, even manner. “It’s not all surprises and prioritising speed, surely, otherwise everyone would just crash. There has to be some kind of system.”
“There is,” Hinata forces himself to say, clearing his throat when his words catch. “But the system is why it’s hard – no, it is, listen! – because most partners know each other, right? But I’ve only ever raced with strangers or people I’m kinda friendly with, never anybody I’m that close to.”
Kageyama’s giving him that look again, like he’s not really buying it but is holding back his rebuttal for now.
“And, well…” Hinata’s hand twitches, and he twists his wrist to dislodge Kageyama’s loose grip so that he can grab and hold onto Kageyama's fingers instead, finding security in the loose hold. “It was just hard to find the groove.”
He can still remember – far too vividly – the fluster that came with sitting next to a near stranger, instructions blasting in his ear, fighting to keep memories of Vitoline at bay as panic built and deafened him to what he should be doing. Normally, he’s naturally quick and reflexes are a breeze, but instinct is very easily dampened under sheer panic. Even sitting in the opposite seat, trying to play navigator, had been torturous.
Kageyama is still eyeing him closely, and Hinata resists the urge to shrink or get combative under his stare. This isn’t a judgement or a challenge, he has to remind himself, this is his boyfriend. It’s okay.
“Want to give it a go then?”
“Huh?” Hinata’s fingers spasm over Kageyama’s at the unexpected response. “What?”
“Well… you know me,” Kageyama explains breezily, flicking his other hand between them. “We have a ‘groove’, don’t we?”
It’s such overly simplistic reasoning, that it really should be inadequate. The simple fact of being in a relationship with Kageyama, and even knowing his driving, doesn’t quite abate the residual panic. But, somehow, because Kageyama’s thought is so simple, such a straightforward belief, it sparks a little bit of bravery somewhere deep in Hinata’s stomach.
He is getting sick of being frightened of the unknown.
“Okay,” he agrees slowly, a grin spreading across his face as a small smile blossoms on Kageyama’s. “But I get to drive.”
“Why do you get to drive?”
“Do you want to end up in a hedge?”
“No. So why are you driving?”
This time, Hinata does kick him in the shin. “Look, I’m better listening to the instructions than trying to read them out, okay? I’m driving.”
Kageyama shakes out his leg, looking like he really wants to argue the point, but then the staff member manning the counter is shoving the sign-up sheet towards them, merrily pointing out that the rally starts in an hour, if they want to put down their names?
Gleefully taking the opportunity to win the debate, Hinata snatches up the offered pen with relish and scribbles down their names in the corresponding boxes for driver and navigator, pointedly ignoring the nerves still twisting up his stomach.
“How do you even fit in a seat like this, you stumpy – “
Hinata tunes out Kageyama’s aggrieved mutterings as he alters the Porche’s passenger seat to adjust for his longer legs by turning on the engine full blast. When he’s racing, he likes having the driver’s and passenger seats sitting equal to help him judge distances – which unfortunately is much too far forward for someone as gangly as Kageyama.
Around them, drivers and their navigators either sit in their cars or mill around, all of them waiting in a secluded, cornered off corral for their turn at the circuit. When they’d arrived, they’d each been given a number – the order they’ll compete in – with directions to the starting line. When it’s their turn, the navigator will be given the instructions for the course, with only a minute to read through before the light goes green.
Hinata’s hands twist over his steering wheel. Their number had just been called. Excitement churns with the nerves in his guts and he does his best to muffle it by leaning over to plant a good luck kiss on Kageyama’s cheek before he can pull his helmet on. It doesn’t really help. Even as he tugs on his own helmet and drives them slowly up to the starting line of the first section, his stomach begins to cramp horribly.
It's not too dissimilar to his first race with Dinoco. The memory of the Vitoline boss yelling in his ear through the radio still burns even now – telling him to go faster, the rapid relay of instructions that he had no hope of understanding at such high speeds. But he’d – fortunately – had had plenty of time to practice with his Dinoco crew before his first Piston Cup race. The nerves had still almost been crippling, that sick feeling of being terrified of letting everyone down, but it had been far easier to settle after a few laps. But this is different. There’s been no practice, no prep, and even though this is only for fun, the thought of showing himself up in front of Kageyama feels somehow even worse –
A large, solid palm drops down onto his thigh, fingers digging in gently around his knee in a reassuring squeeze.
Hinata swallows roughly, grounded so abruptly that he feels a little like he has whiplash, and he glances over at his side. He can’t see any of Kageyama’s face – shielded by his helmet – but he can see his eyes through his visor, piercing as always. Outside the car, horns blare to signal the beginning of the countdown to the start, and he holds that reassuring gaze for a few more heartbeats before dragging his eyes back to the road.
Kageyama’s hand gives his knee one last squeeze before retreating, just as the final horn screeches in time with the lights above them switching to green, and Hinata’s foot slams down on the accelerator.
As the Porsche takes off from the starting line like a rocket, there’s a little click in Hinata’s ear as the radio link between himself and Kageyama is switched on, ready for the instructions to be relayed.
At first, it’s easy. But then it always is – a false sense of security for what’s to come. Kageyama’s voice reads out each instruction clear and precise: straight on, 300 feet, turn right… there’s nothing sharp nor strange.
But then it starts to get complicated.
Hinata’s hands tighten uncomfortably around his steering wheel. He can feel his heart racing far faster than it should be from simple adrenaline, rushing at a rate that’s almost painful, as sweat prickles across his skin and his breath quickens. The turns become tighter, the straights curved, and he finds himself falling back into his old habits of bracing for the instructions rather than anticipating them.
Which is a shame, because Kageyama has such a nice voice, and Hinata would normally relish hearing its low, rich timbre in his ear, but right now it’s just so fucking stressful –
“Hairpin turn, sharp as you can go,” Kageyama bursts in, calm as always, and Hinata wrenches his steering wheel and handbrake both to hurl the Porsche around a corner so tight that it essentially turns back on itself. Dirt and dust spew up as the tyres scrabble and the brakes screech, and Hinata feels a lump lodge itself in his throat as he fights down the instinctual panic as his windows get clouded in red mist.
“Slow, gentle bend here,” Kageyama says next, and Hinata flexes his fingers at the strange choice of words. That’s definitely not what it says on Kageyama’s directions sheet.
Still, it helps shave off some of the initial tight panic, and Hinata lets his Cayman swerve softly until the dust clears.
“Squiggly turn next, like a river.”
Again, weird way of phrasing of it.
But it’s working. For whatever reason, Kageyama stops simply reading out the instructions in their correct format, instead changing to imagery and descriptions. And whether it’s the breakaway from the standard or because he can see what’s going to happen better in his mind, Hinata bodily feels himself relax again in his seat.
It’s still scrappy – Kageyama is completely unused to this, no matter how at ease he may seem, and he stumbles sometimes. The unpredictable nature of the dirt is still an ever-present threat, and Hinata can’t challenge it like he normally does. But it’s easier. It’s far easier than any other time that he’s tried this, Kageyama’s strange instruction relay somehow helping to make each new corner, straight, and obstacle an exciting challenge rather than dreaded anticipation.
By the time that they hit the third and final section of the track, Hinata can feel a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth as he swings them around the dirt, Kageyama’s voice ringing in his ears. They’re far from perfect, and probably nowhere near the fastest, but with each new part of the track those earlier nerves are being stripped away, replaced with sheer, exhilarating fun.
It’s so enjoyable, feeling his Porsche hit the groove, letting Kageyama lead them where they need to go, coming perilously close to the tyre walls and the dirt mounds, that Hinata barely even registers when they skid over the final finish line.
They don’t win. Hinata didn’t really expect them to, not on their first try, not with his initial nerves. But even though Kageyama is still a little pouty about it, never able to easily move past the sting of defeat, Hinata finds himself grinning like a loon.
He’s still buzzing even when they pull away from the track, his blood fizzing and alight with the feeling only racing awards him. Tugging roughly at Kageyama’s sleeve, he points up at the scoreboard, where they sit in third, and feels obscenely proud of himself.
Less than hour ago, he would’ve said that he almost hated rallying. Now it’s one of the best things that he’s ever done.
“Well,” Kageyama says, some of Hinata’s overflowing joy starting to rub off on him, his sulky frown melting away at last. “It’ll do for now, I guess.”
“’For now’,” Hinata snorts around his wild grin, as he snatches his partner’s hand to go and collect their tiny prize for getting on the ‘podium.’
He’s still feeling bubbly when they meet back up with Heitor and Nice a short while later. Heitor had managed to snag himself a win in his own race, looking pleasantly pleased with himself as Hinata and Kageyama settle down on the other side of the picnic table that Nice had grabbed for them all.
The jubilance rides high as Hinata shares a victorious high five with Heitor, and Nice takes some of the winnings to go and buy them all a round of celebratory drinks.
Now solely in charge of his tiny son, Heitor sobers slightly as he rummages around in Nice’s bag for a bottle of milk. Hinata watches the baby suckle for a moment, taking in Heitor’s happy, contented face, and feels his chest warm pleasantly at the sight. It’s rare, but some things are even better to see than race trophies.
Turning his gaze away from the successful bottle feed, Hinata swings his feet below the picnic table and focuses on Kageyama instead. “How were you so good at the rally instructions?” he asks, voicing the question that has been niggling at him since they got back from the track. “I thought you didn’t know anything about rallying?”
A tiny crease appears between Kageyama’s eyebrows. “I don’t know anything about rallying.”
Hinata’s elbow nearly slips off of the picnic table. “Geez…” he sighs, draping himself across the tabletop in a flare of dramatics. “Maybe you really are secretly some kind of race genius – “
“No, idiot, I just know you.”
“Whuh?” Hinata blinks into the wood grains of the picnic table for a few moments before wrenching himself upright. His cheek stings a little from where it had been pressed into the warm grooves.
The crease between Kageyama’s brows deepens. “Haven’t you realised how you describe shit? ‘Float like a Cadillac?’” – he even lifts his fingers for air quotes, and Hinata’s stomach would churn in second-hand embarrassment if he weren’t so baffled – “You use noises and imagery all the time to explain yourself, it only makes sense to use those kinds of descriptions to explain things back to you. If I said a ‘270 degree hairpin turn’ or something you’d spend so long trying to work out what that even meant you’d crash into a barrier.”
Hinata’s mouth pops open to argue on sheer reflex, when the weight of Kageyama’s words hits him a second later. He presses his lips closed again slowly, the instinctive urge to stick up for himself shrinking rapidly as he realises that Kageyama, as always, does have a point. True, he could have phrased it in a nicer way, but that’s never really been Kageyama’s style, and Hinata finds himself softening at how Kageyama had noticed such a detail about him in the first place. One that he himself wasn’t even aware of.
And then to take that knowledge and use it in a way to help him… Hinata slumps over the picnic table again, suddenly a little overcome. A swell of regret builds in his chest for ever thinking that Kageyama was bad at listening – no. Wait.
Hinata raises his chin again, defiantly ignoring the strange look being drilled into the side of his skull. Kageyama was bad at listening! Hinata was – and is – still right about all of that. Kageyama’s just good at noticing things instead… far more than Hinata ever really gave him credit for.
Fortunately, before he can be called out on his second round of dramatics, Nice comes back with the drinks, condensation building on their sides as the ice within battles against the overhead sun. Conversation bubbles up anew as she hands them out and settles down, and Hinata almost completely forgets his little revelation as he loses himself in catching up with his friends.
After several rounds of iced, non-alcoholic beverages and another wander around the stalls and tracks, catching the last of the races, it’s time to go home. Or at least leave before the mad rush at the very end of the day.
Heitor and Nice part first, keen to get their baby home before traffic starts to build on the winding, country roads, but after a cheery goodbye, Heitor quickly pulls Hinata aside for a quiet, private word.
“It’s good to see you’re doing so well, Shouyou.”
“Thank you?” Hinata says, a little blindsided. Seems like a strange thing to tug him aside for. He sneaks a glance over at Kageyama, who’s currently panic refusing to hold the newborn that Nice is bouncing before him. She’s only teasing, but it is pretty funny –
Heitor follows his gaze and grins suddenly, clapping his hand down on Hinata’s shoulder, jolting him back to attention. “Seriously. You look a lot happier, and it’s real nice to see.”
Hinata stares up at his friend for a long moment, chest constricting horribly at the warm, sincere smile on Heitor’s face. He’d thought that he always came across as happy whenever he’d been at the dirt races. He was happy. Mostly. But maybe Heitor has always been observant to how Hinata had been really feeling throughout those years – another person that Hinata perhaps hasn’t given enough credit to.
“I like him a lot,” Heitor adds, jerking his head in Kageyama’s direction – who is now tentatively letting the baby cling onto his index finger with a vice grip. “Nice says he’s a keeper.”
Sniffing loudly, Hinata valiantly fights back the temptation to dissolve into a gooey puddle but doesn’t restrain his silly grin. “Thanks,” he says again, with a lot more sincerity this time. He watches as the terror on Kageyama’s face melts slowly in favour of open wonder as the baby starts cooing happily at his wiggling fingers. Another swoosh of happiness floods through him, threatening to take out his knees.
“I think so too.”
Hinata’s little house on the outskirts of Karasuno Springs feels even quieter than usual after the intense noise and bustle of the dirt tracks.
Looping his arms loosely around Kageyama’s waist and draping himself across his back, Hinata rocks up on tiptoes to plant his chin on Kageyama’s shoulder and looks down at the simmering hob. Normally, he makes dinner, but sometimes Kageyama gets a bee in his bonnet about wanting to try, so Hinata let him take the reins on a small, late meal.
“Did you have fun today?”
Kageyama hums quietly at the question, nodding vaguely – most of his attention captured by his meal preparation.
Hinata digs his chin into meat of Kageyama’s shoulder a little harder. “Would you go again?”
Kageyama hums a second time, his brow creasing further as he leans forward to peer into his pot, stirring the contents with a spoon before simply saying: “Yeah.”
Dropping his head back with an exhausted groan, Hinata waits until Kageyama has finished examining his cooking before letting out an accompanying whine. “Just ‘yeah’? If you didn’t like it that much, you just say that Tobio! I mean, it’s not boring, but if you thought it was then that’s okay, I guess, you don’t have to put up with it or anything – “
An exasperated sigh punctuates Hinata’s complaining, and Kageyama turns the hob down to a low heat, letting their dinner simmer. Satisfied, he turns in Hinata’s arms so that he can face him properly. “I did enjoy it,” he says, looping his own arm around Hinata’s shoulders. “So, yeah, I would go again.”
Hinata gets the feeling that Kageyama wants to elaborate, judging by his thoughtful little frown. He normally pulls this face when he’s trying to order the words that he wants in his head. So he bobs on the balls of his feet and forces himself to wait, hoping that his impatience isn’t too obvious.
“I know the dirt races weren’t just a stop gap for you,” Kageyama says at last, speaking slowly. “You really loved it in its own right. And… I could see why you enjoyed it so much. So yes, we should make more time for it. When we have time, that is.”
Smothering a hopelessly smitten grin, Hinata feels himself melt. He’s never going to get over it – the simple way that Kageyama just gets it. How he makes a genuine effort to. Hinata’s felt so brushed off and swept aside by so many people – both intentionally and unintentionally – that having someone who really wants to understand is still heartbreakingly novel.
All of the racing opportunities aside, how did he get so lucky to have his partner literally crash into his life?
Giving Kageyama a little squeeze to get some of his rapidly rising affection out, Hinata valiantly squishes down some of his sappiness. It feels a little too silly to start blubbering out ‘thanks you’s out of seemingly nowhere, and Kageyama will only be confused. And then Hinata will have to explain, which might be more embarrassing than it’s really worth, so…
Altering his grip around Kageyama’s shoulders, Hinata turns and nudges Kageyama’s head downwards so that he can kiss him soundly. He feels Kageyama shift eagerly in response, tilting his torso so that they can slot against each other easier, the arm around Hinata’s shoulders dropping down until Kageyama can spread his hand across the small of his back instead.
“Yeah, let’s go again,” Hinata says, repeating the earlier sentiment while keeping himself close so that he can press kisses between the words. “I want to win the rally.”
Because he’ll never be satisfied – and nor will Kageyama – with just simply joining in. Of course they’re going to try again, and again, and again, until they’re both not only comfortable but good. Good enough to win.
Kageyama pulls back just enough so that he can look down at Hinata without going cross-eyed, with that small, feral little grin that he gets when the thrill of competition soaks in. Hinata feels a sharp smile pull at his lips in return and he drags him back down for another kiss.
Because with a partner like this, how could he ever lose?