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Really, Daichi doesn’t even know how it happens. The bar clears out, slowly but surely; the more sensible or straight-laced of the athletes make their apologies and disappear. Eventually, Daichi looks up and realizes that he doesn’t know half the people who are left. Except one, really: Hinata, luminous as ever across the table, though even he’s starting to realize the celebration’s winding up.
It’s late. Daichi’s paid and only got his coat half-on when Hinata meets him outside, cheeks flushed with victory and alcohol. The street’s eerily quiet, for all the clamour that’s still faintly audible through the door at their backs. For a moment, Daichi regrets his choices. He really should have gone home with Asahi. Or Kiyoko. Or — okay, maybe not Suga, Suga’s not really a good choice when he’s this drunk. But it’s late, and Hinata probably has somewhere to be, and Daichi has to figure out getting home on his own. Which is fine. He’s a grown man.
Except that Hinata nudges him companionably. “It’s late!” he says.
“It sure is.”
“I’m tired!”
Daichi bites back a smile. “Me too.”
“I mean, tired, but I’m still kind of pumped, you know? I want to walk for a bit. Do you want to come with me, Dai-san? It’s been so long. And I didn’t really get to talk to you tonight, you know.”
There were plenty of opportunities for them to talk, even seated across the busy table as they were, but Hinata had invariably opened his mouth and gotten promptly distracted by Kageyama. Or Tanaka, or Suga, or the random lady who wanted his autograph and then started touching his biceps, or. A lot of people, less polite or more drunk than Daichi. Which is fine! But it’s a nice offer, and Daichi feels suddenly warm about it.
“Of course,” he says.
Hinata beams, and takes off down the street. It’s all Daichi can do to follow — the side streets he’s taking, and the way he’s peppering Daichi with questions. Except that Hinata stops outside a building covered in pink neons, and exclaims, and hauls Daichi in.
He’s not really sure what’s happening, if he’s honest. Hinata asks cheerfully at the counter for their “pinkest room”; the woman behind the counter raises an eyebrow, but hands over the key in exchange for. Wait. “Hinata—”
“You said you were tired,” Hinata says, beaming. “And I had an errand to run, so it all works out! And we can still talk, but it’s warmer in here.”
It’s definitely warmer in here. Hinata unlocks the door and ushers him in, and. “This is a love hotel,” Daichi says.
“Yeah!”
“Hinata, what.”
But Hinata’s already oohing and aahing at the condom vending machine and the glossy pleather loveseat and pulling open some kind of basket to rummage through — Daichi blinks — the sex toys in there.
“You see, Yachi was telling me about this Hello Kitty vibrator.”
None of these are words Daichi has ever wanted to hear in one sentence.
Hinata doesn’t seem to notice. “Like, it’s been discontinued? And I promised her that if I ever happened to come across a place which might have one, I’d see if I could find it.”
“She probably meant… a place where you could buy it.” Though he doesn’t want to think about that, either.
“Nah. She just wants to see it, you know?” But Hinata’s surrounded by jelly dildos that aren’t bodysafe (being friends with Moniwa has its dubious benefits, and apparently one of them is being lectured on safe sex toys) and glow-in-the-dark bullet vibrators and at least a dozen cock rings, and there’s no Hello Kitty vibrator, and he shrugs cheerfully. “Ah, well! I had to try.”
“Right.” Daichi says faintly. That’s that, then. Hinata’s errand is over, even if it never should have begun. It’s fine.
Except that Hinata flops down on the (pink) bed and stretches his limbs and wiggles delightedly deeper into the plush cushions. “Dai-san! This bed is really comfortable! You should try it.”
“Hinata,” Daichi says. He takes a steadying breath. “Why am I here.”
“It’s my treat,” Hinata says, like that explains anything. He sits up, peering at Daichi with concern. “You look exhausted. The shower’s over there.”
He doesn’t exactly have anything better to do, so Daichi nods, turns sharply on his feet, and heads for the bathroom. He has the most surreal shower of his life, surrounded by gently undulating neon-pink lava lamps, plucks a towel and a pair of weirdly comfortable satin shorts from the neatly-organised shelves, and heads out towelling his hair to find Hinata under the… covers, which were not originally on the bed. They look clean and nice, actually.
“This side’s your side,” Hinata says, patting the other half of the heart-shaped mattress. “I fluffed up your pillows.”
It does look good. Daichi’s so tired. “Thanks,” he mumbles, settling down on his side. He dozes off almost immediately.
Distantly, through a very pink haze, he hears Hinata wish him goodnight. There’s a companionable pat on his butt, then a warmth against his back, and he’s asleep.