Work Text:
You used to think having your crush stare at you was flattering.
The Problem — as you coined it, and your friends make fun of you for this because apparently it’s ‘unoriginal’ — started near the end of your first year.
Being the manager of the volleyball club, you always find it odd when you overhear anyone gush about their favorite players or call them handsome since you’re kind of jaded to their charms, but Semi is cute, good at a sport and not an unhinged serial killer. What’s not to like?
You do realize your standards might be low. Like, in the gutter low, but still.
When he first took to stealing glances at you, you had the gall to entertain the delusion that maybe he liked you back and giggled about it over lunch with some of your friends who knew your secret. If it was all in your head, it wasn’t a big deal. Even if he was indifferent to you, you figured you’d hardly be the first person to have unrequited feelings for someone, so you didn’t sweat it. It’s not like you expected to elope with him or something. Honestly, ‘the goss’ was just good fun.
Then he started looking for longer.
Then it turned into a frown.
Then he started furrowing his eyebrows, and it was more of a glare than a stare.
And then, after he got the hang of it, he started glaring at you before he delivered his monster strength jump serve, and you shuddered and wondered if it was a threat the first few times. He still does it to this day, and you have no idea what it means, but all you see is, GET OUT OF MY CLUB.
… Perhaps you’re being a bit ridiculous.
He’s not rude to you or anything, never has been, so while you don’t know what to make of this, it has never been a huge concern. However, since Shirabu replaced him on the starting line-up, his glaring habit has gotten worse, to the point you find it distracting sometimes.
You hand Shirabu his water bottle and try to garner some sympathy. Not for Semi, but for yourself. “I think you loosened some of Semi’s screws,” you say.
He quirks an eyebrow. “Don’t start with this.”
“Start with what?”
“It’s not my fault Coach Washijo decided I’m a better fit.”
“Oh, no, no!” You wave your hand with a sheepish grin since you didn’t realize how accusatory your words sounded until now. Then you lean in to whisper conspiratorially in his ear, “He’s been gaping at me like a dead fish ever since that morning every chance he gets. What should I do?”
“But he does that all the time,” counters Shirabu, not at all empathetic to your struggles.
“Eek! You noticed that?”
“Taichi and I were talking about how embarrassing it is the other day,” he says off-handedly.
“ Kawanishi noticed?!”
Shirabu rolls his eyes at your dramatics.
Though you should be offended, you get an evil glint in your expression and wiggle your fingers before you squeal in excitement and twirl around him. “So you’re not above some good gossip after all, Shirabu-kun!”
“It’s too early for this,” he scoffs, probably because he doesn’t want to admit you’re right.
Semi looks vaguely pissed off, as usual, and he’s been staying after practice more and more. Today he seems to be running even later than normal because the last few times, he was out before you finished sweeping the storage room, but right now you find he’s still here. You swing the keys around your finger before you poke your head out. “Hope you don’t mind if I stay around? I have to lock up and put away the volleyballs.”
He has some kind of emo stare-down with the ball in his hands and you wonder if the question you asked really is that complicated. “No, it’s fine. You should leave the keys and I can clean up when I’m done.”
Ack! Shot down! “Are you sure? It’s not good to stay out so late.”
“It’s alright,” he says. “I don’t mind.”
“Okay,” you concede because you don’t want to piss him off when he’s already on edge all the time. “Do you need help with anything?”
Semi waves you off and you frown. He doesn’t seem to want to talk to you anyhow, so you take the hint, gather your things and leave. At least you got an errand off your hands.
“Um… Still, try to be reasonable,” you nag one last time on your way out, wagging your finger and all.
You’re not one of god’s strongest soldiers by any means, but it wouldn’t have been the end of the world if Shirabu’s serve smacked you in the face.
It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened, either, and you remember Tendou groveled for your forgiveness when Reon’s spike woke you up one morning last year because you weren’t watching where you were going. It was thoroughly embarrassing for everyone in the vicinity, and Tendou enjoyed himself while Ushijima asked him what that even had to do with him, which was a valid inquiry.
You don’t register it heading your way — he, Kawanishi and Tendou usually have good aim, so you’re way less cautious of them when they serve — but Semi finds it necessary to lean over and headbutt it before it can hit you with a hand on your shoulder.
“Ow,” he says, somewhat belatedly, then turns towards Shirabu’s general direction. “Watch it!”
Watch it? But he got in the way of the serve…? You are so confused.
“Sorry, sorry,” calls out Shirabu, and you can tell he’s embarrassed even though he’s trying to hide it.
Since you’re on Semi’s shitlist, you resist the urge to laugh at him while you watch him rub at his forehead. He kinda reminds you of a kitten, but again, you’re not trying to get murdered today, so you don’t share your inner thoughts out loud. “Are you alright?”
“It’s whatever, Shirabu’s serves are weak as shit.”
You snort. “Petty. Do you want a bandage or something? I can go get some from the infirmary.”
“Don’t bother,” he says. “Really, I didn’t even feel it.”
The look on your face should show him you know he’s bullshitting, or at least you hope so, but then he does his little glare and you’re more inclined to drop the topic. Or maybe not. “You’re gonna get a bruise and look stupid, though.”
“I’d look stupid with a bandage on my forehead, too,” Semi says, and you can’t really argue with that. Then, after a stilted silence, he awkwardly tells you, “Off I go,” and walks away from you.
“Off you go,” you repeat in an incredulous tone once he’s out of earshot, raising your eyebrow while you follow his retreating figure with your gaze.
Whenever Coach Washijo leaves you guys unattended, Tendou starts behaving like a middle schooler whose teacher left the room. Somehow he talks you into trying to do a serve, too, and you get behind the white line. It’s kind of weird. You’ve only ever stood here in passing while doing this or that.
It doesn’t seem like the ball is going to make it after it catches on the net, but then it tips over and lands on the other side of the court. You clap your hands in excitement without meaning to and Tendou screeches like this is the most amazing feat of athleticism he has ever witnessed.
He extends his hand and waves it up and down. “Give me a high-five!”
Goshiki, who has to turn everything into a competition, stretches forward even more. “Give me a high-five, too!!!”
Semi glances between the two of them. He reluctantly raises his hand while he’s standing and shrugs as if to imply they’re insane, but he doesn’t want to be left out.
You run up at them in fake slow motion like you’re an important player getting introduced at a huge event.
“Miracle boy Satori,” you greet before you give him a good smack on the hand which makes him holler something incomprehensible in pain. Then he falls over and writhes around, but you ignore him because you know he’s faking it.
Then you move onto Goshiki. “Our other ace.” At this, he beams at you like you just told him Santa Claus is real.
Now, the boss battle. Your hands are a little sweaty, but this is a great opportunity. Maybe you can say something cute, and maybe he’ll have a Hallmark movie realization that You’re Not So Bad After All. You’re robbed of your thoughts of romance when you notice how grumpy he looks.
“... Semi,” you offer and your hand meets his in one limp, boneless action. What was that?! You grimace and prepare to bolt when his lips curl even further down than usual before Tendou raises from the ashes and slings an arm around your shoulder.
“Really? This can’t be all you have to say about Semisemi!”
“Tendou, stop screeching in my ear.”
He ignores your input. “Isn’t he handsome? And strong? Wasn’t the way he headbutted that ball for you earlier not super macho?!”
“Um,” you croak.
This is the most constipated expression you’ve seen Semi pull off to date, and that’s saying something. He crosses his arms and you think he’ll get wrinkles with the way he’s scowling. No, this is bad news — if you pick the wrong dialogue option, he’ll eviscerate you both. There’s only one solution.
You cup your ear and wrestle out of Tendou’s hold. “Oh, Ushijima, don’t worry, I’m coming!”
“Wakatoshi-kun isn’t calling you over,” he says before he pulls you even closer, cheek-to-cheek.
Goshiki considers it for a second. “Yeah, he didn’t.”
(You forgot he’s still here.
Ushijima sneezes with the most stoic expression possible.)
“Was that my name he just said?”
“Since when is your name a sneeze?” Tendou cries.
“I better go.”
Once you’re a safe distance away, you sneak a glance over your shoulder only to see Tendou and Semi swatting at each other’s hands like they’re collectively trying to fight off a fly. Then Tendou pulls away and makes kissy faces in the air and Semi tries to trip him with a kick to the leg in retaliation. Goshiki, from his position behind them, shoots you a smile and thumbs-up when he notices you’re looking their way.
You stand in front of Ushijima now, but there’s no reason for you to be hovering near him, so you struggle to think of what to say. He speaks first, though. “I apologize.”
“Oh, um, what for?”
“On behalf of Tendou and Semi, for their strange, sometimes disturbing behavior,” he says.
You resist the urge to laugh. “Don’t worry about it,” you say. “That’s just how they express their love or whatever.”
“But they’re hitting each other.”
“Well, it’s playful- I think.”
“So they’re in a relationship?” asks Ushijima with grave concern.
You shrug.
“... I was under the impression that Tendou was loyal to a woman named Pamela Anderson.”
“You’re right,” says Shirabu before he plops down on the bench next to you, discarding his water bottle to the side. You cease your writing on the clipboard to turn towards him, taking a mental note to refill it later. “Semi-san’s screws are loose.”
“Hm, what makes you say that?” you ask, considering how disinterested in the topic he was a few weeks ago.
“He tried to hit Tendou-san with a mop.”
Not really that unusual.
“Then,” bemused, Shirabu continues, “he passed the mop to me and asked me to hit him, too. Like we’re friends who get along .”
“Oh shit, it’s bad for him,” you say in astonishment at the information you just received. Semi strolls in not long after like nothing had happened. He passes you a customary glare before he trudges to the other side of the gymnasium, and you squirm in your seat. “Do you think I’m next?”
Even saints have a limit to their patience, and you don’t consider yourself half as virtuous.
All day, you’ve been suffering. You tripped on your shoelaces, almost fell, and then got performance anxiety because you could feel Semi’s eyes drilling holes into the crown of your head when you crouched down to tie them again, leading you to messing that up three times. Then he had the nerve to sit in front of you, say, “Let me do that,” in the most annoyed voice possible before he almost cut off the blood circulation to your foot with how tight he fastened them.
(It is possible he now believes you don’t know how to do it by yourself, but you’ve been avoiding thinking about that.)
Then — ever alert of his gaze — you confused several bottles, filled Ushijima’s with your soda instead of water, lost count of things you were supposed to be keeping track of and ended up writing down wrong measurements more than once, misplaced towels and sweatshirts, almost put Yamagata’s phone in your bag instead of your own, and deflated a volleyball. You’re surprised Coach Washijo hasn’t verbally abused him for paying more attention to you than drills and laps yet.
Now you’re alone with him after practice hours again, and he’s acting like you’re not even there.
You walk up to him with a resolute expression. For no discernible reason, maybe just to express your frustration, you slap the ball out of his hands. It lands between the two of you with a dramatic thud.
“What’s your problem?” you demand.
Okay, sure, it’s a little weird for you to ask that after what you did not even a second before, but you’re annoyed beyond belief. You like him, you really do, but this is so ridiculous! If he has something to say, he should just spare you and come out with it.
Evident confusion flashes across his face, and you want to pull your hair out, or maybe get the mop and see how he likes it when it’s aimed at him. “I don’t have a problem?”
Words evade you so you let out a noise of frustration and stomp away.
“Did I do something wrong?” asks Semi, but you’re already out of earshot.
The Problem — as Tendou coined it, prompting Ushijima to ask ‘What problem?’ without fail every time he brings it up to the members uninvolved — has gotten worse lately.
“I’m gonna have to intervene. Tut tut,” he says to no one in particular.
The locker rooms have cleared out for the most part. Kawanishi is playing a game on his phone, clearly not giving a shit, Yamagata is pretending he didn’t hear him, and Shirabu straight up leaves. Ever-reliable Goshiki who would rather eat shit than disappoint any of his upperclassmen salutes and asks, “How?”
“Someone will get a talking to,” Tendou coos.
Goshiki isn’t quite sure what that will entail, but he doesn’t like the sound of it, whatever it is.
Discretion isn’t necessary on this mission, but Tendou sneaks up on Semi anyway, because he thinks freaking him out is funny. “Semisemi,” he begins, and Semi visibly startles, and Tendou squints at him for a long while without saying anything, stretching the silence.
“What?” he asks on the off-chance Tendou has something worthwhile to say.
“You’re creepy.”
With utmost offense in his tone and a raise of his eyebrow, Semi parrots, “Creepy?”
“You’re stressing out [L/n],” elaborates Tendou before he stares off into the horizon, pretending to muse. “I mean,” he grins, laughs and squishes Semi’s cheeks together so his lips are puckering, more or less disregarding his response altogether, “this is the kinda pouty face only a mother could love!”
Semi shoves him away like he’s contagious. “What are you on about?”
“Well, a certain someone doesn’t understand your drooling.”
“My drooling?!”
“I know what I said, you don’t need to repeat it every time.” Tendou twirls his finger when he chides him in that annoying voice he makes whenever he’s mocking someone. “Basically, poor little Manager-san doesn’t know why you do that. And thinks you look like you’re trying to start a fight.” A gasp escapes him at the revelation before he bows. “Mic drop. End scene.”
He ignores Tendou’s antics, disconcerted. You think he hates you or something? Sure, he knows he tends to eye you… often, but it’s not a war declaration or anything! Semi doesn’t know what’s so difficult to ‘get.’ He thinks it should be obvious on his face.
Wait.
His face.
His face .
When realization strikes him, he grabs Tendou by the shoulder in a panic and yells, “Tendou, I have resting bitch face syndrome!”
“You don’t say.”
Through this new lens, he reconsiders the past three years like he’s on the brink of dying and his most painful memories are flashing in front of his eyes. He’s always saying no whenever you try to help him with anything because he doesn’t want to inconvenience you since you already have so many other responsibilities. But if you think he hates you, it must look like he’s trying to blow you off.
And… The serving thing. He shudders slightly. Really, he means it in a ‘this is for you babe 😍😍😍😘’ way, as corny as that is, but it probably seems like a threat.
Semi groans and slaps himself. Tendou observes his agony in amusement. “I’m such an idiot.”
“Don’t worry, we can fix it,” he says before he perks up and puts his hands on his hips. “They don’t call me Doctor Love for nothing.”
“No one calls you that.”
Tendou punches him in the stomach for his insolence. If it were almost anyone else on the team, Semi would probably double over in pain, but now all he lets out is a little wheeze. “Here’s what you’re gonna do-”
“Stop trying to insert yourself just because you’re bored.”
“Now, now. Doctor Love knows better than you, as we can all see.”
Later, Semi says he didn’t know you even notice his glances enough to be bothered by them. In a sing-song voice, Tendou quips, “Semisemi, anyone would notice a guy with a shitty dye-job giving them the Kubrick stare.”
“My dye-job is not shitty!”
Semi has been ominously shuffling around in your general vicinity. At first, you ignored him, but now you’re kind of irritated.
“Can I help you?” you ask tersely, tone clipped. Things between the two of you have been a little strained ever since your incoherent blow-up, but you’re still the manager and still have… managing… to do.
He blurts out, “Tendou told me to tell a speech-”
“What?”
“-or kabe-don you-”
“What.”
“-but I think he just watches too much anime and convinces himself he knows what he’s talking about. I mean, he was even calling himself Doctor Love and everything. Can you believe that-”
“Semi,” you step on his toe, which grinds his talking to a halt, “you’re rambling.”
“I- Okay, um. I’m sorry. About the staring.”
Oh? Now you’re interested in how kabe-donning ties into all of this, momentarily forgetting about your anger.
“And being rude,” he adds, averting his eyes to the side.
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t have a problem with you… Or anything like that… You’re just- you make me feel sick in my stomach. Wait, no, I mean! You make me nervous , and I start acting like a dunce. And don’t know how to show it.”
“Don’t know how to show what? Why would I make you nervous?” you ask.
“Come on, you already know what I’m trying to say.”
“Don’t give me an attitude when you’re trying to confess your undying love for me!” With this turn of events, you can kind of see how he looks more shy than murderous, actually. “Anyway, you’re lucky you’re cute, good at a sport, and not an unhinged serial killer-”
It’s Semi’s turn to interrupt. “What?”
“-because I like you too.”
You smile at him. He sighs in relief and puts his hand over his chest. “Oh, thank god. I was about to throw up.”
“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” you say, pursing your lips. “I really do make you feel sick in the stomach.”
“You have to admit I’m a pretty good matchmaker,” Tendou says, preening while he awaits your amazement.
“No, you really aren’t,” you tell him. He falls over, pretending to have fainted. “But I fuck with you for trying.”