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There was something strange about being in the Karasuno gym again nearly a decade after graduating.
The floors still shone like Nishinoya had just gone through with the mop, and the club room hadn’t changed except for maybe a fresh coat of paint where Tanaka’s poster hung. It was almost as if no time had passed at all.
It was a completely ludicrous idea, as were most of Kuroo’s ‘brain babies’ ( his words ), to hold a garbage heap showdown ten year anniversary game. Half of them hadn’t played for that long and the other half had two gold Olympic medals hanging heavily around their necks. The event would undoubtedly, in Kei’s mind, be a complete gong show— something he had voiced to his senior seven times during their call as Kuroo tried to convince him to play.
‘Are you sure you won’t break a hip, Kuroo-san? You’re not getting any younger.’
‘You can rub a big, fat, ‘I told you so’ in my face if I do. How’s that sound?’
Kei hated how easily people could convince him these days.
The weeks flew by and before he knew it, the day of their first practice came around. After several hours of nonsense memes and Sawamura’s determination to keep the group chat on task, they had settled on the fact that they would need practice before the match. Lots of it.
In all his years at Karasuno, Kei had never been the first one to arrive to practice. It wasn’t that he wasn’t punctual, his schedule was just so jam-packed with college prep courses that he had his days planned down to the minute. No one ever gave him any real flack about it, and although Kageyama had made some half-assed remarks once or twice, there was never any venom to them.
He was never the first one to practice until today.
Kei moved on memory, lugging the poles out of the equipment room and settling them into their homes on the court. They’d felt so heavy back then, his scrawny arms had felt practically useless all those years ago. How they didn’t snap under the constant barrage of blows from the likes of Ushijima, he’ll never know. But now… his semi-pro training had done its work and now work like this was a breeze. Just as the second pole sunk into the respective hole, the creak of the gym door echoed across the court.
He’d expected it to be Sawamura or Sugawara— or both of them together— since they were still in Sendai. He knew Tadashi was going to be late, his shift ended right at the practice start time. Everyone else was traveling from out of prefecture. What he didn’t expect, and who would have been the last guess on his list, was Hinata standing in the doorway.
Now it’s not like they hadn’t seen each other over the years. Hell, he and Kageyama went to Brazil to visit the red-head a couple of times early after they graduated. But then life got busy for all of them and even the weekly FaceTime calls dwindled down to every other month. Sometimes even less than that during volleyball season. Hitoka had felt the absence of it the worst— texting Kei for updates several times each day (which he happily gave). And during those times, Kei had kept up with the others’ games, even taping them if necessary. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Even if he still didn’t want to admit it, they were friends.
While they were both always monsters when it came to the game, it was almost comforting being able to keep up with their progress after graduation.
It had been a long time since they’d seen each other in person.
The screens did not do Hinata justice.
Of course he was bigger now. That was a no brainer and should have been a thought that had crossed Kei’s mind. If he had gained muscle, it was stupid to think Hinata wouldn’t have either when his training regime was twice as vigorous. And yet, as the tanned muscles poked out from underneath the ridiculously revealing tank top he was wearing, Kei felt the all too familiar feeling of losing every single ounce of saliva in his mouth. Seriously, what was he thinking. It’s Japan. In the fall. He frowned.
“Tsukki!”
Hinata’s smile hit him like an atomic bomb, obliterating any form of a cohesive thought in his head.
Goodbye, Kei. It was nice knowing you.
“Are you even bigger now?!”
He was quick— bounding across the gym within seconds, just like he did back when they were fifteen. Strong hands clapped down on Kei's shoulders and the next thing he knew, Hinata’s face was mere millimeters from his. Poking and prodding at his muscles, as if carefully inspecting every inch of Kei’s body without so much as a slight acknowledgement of any personal boundaries. Typical . Each touch felt warmer than the last, and as Hinata began to focus on his pectorals, Kei could feel a different kind of heat creep up the back of his neck and spread out to his ears.
“You don’t need to manhandle me.”
Liar. He does.
To preserve any sort of dignity Kei pretended to have left, he pushed against Hinata’s chest to create some space while actively trying (and failing) to ignore how solid it felt underneath his calloused fingertips.
Don’t linger, don’t linger…
If Hinata minded, he didn’t show it.
“Right.” Hinata smiled again, this time softer, and Kei dropped his gaze to avoid any further destruction to his psyche. He had to know what it did to people. Kei knew he wasn’t the only one who was completely and utterly destroyed by such a simple act. There was Kageyama in their third year. Miya, practically any time he looked at him. Hitoka. Kozume. Aone. Kozume again. If Kei was keeping score (he was), at least he seemed to last the longest before getting blindsided by it. A record if you wanted to call it something like that.
I wonder if Hitoka could make me a medal.
It felt so stupid. Even when he was young and still figuring things out he wasn’t like this. So why now and why fucking Hinata of all people?
Maybe this was finally karma coming back to bite him in the ass for being such a miserable shit back then. Not just to his team, but his mother and brother too. It was poetic, if he really thought about it. But thinking about it meant acknowledging it, and while he certainly couldn’t keep his eyes off the way the sinews would ripple under the bronze skin on Hinata’s arms, he could at least shut his mind the fuck up for the time being.
“Well, don’t stand there like an idiot. Help me put the net up.”
Kei moved, thanking whatever higher powers that be for letting his legs work. Hinata jogged over to the side farthest from where they were standing and began cinching up the net. Once upon a time, Kei would have preferred to work in silence. He’d have slipped on those old, white headphones and drowned out the world. Hinata’s incessant chatter should have sent him over the edge. But as he went on and on about Brazil and the qualifiers, Kei didn’t get the usual migraine that came along with prolonged exposure.
Maybe I’m ill.
“Block for me, Tsukki!”
“Everyone will be here soon, you can wait.”
“C’mon, just one!”
It was never just one. Not then and not now.
The loud thwack reverberating off the ceiling was no shock to the blond, Kei knew all too well that while it was never just one. Hinata also couldn’t wait if his life depended on it. Sneakers squeaked across the wood floor as Kei’s legs moved on instinct— dragging him along and up against the net, his arms stretching out with splayed fingers to attempt the block.
He wasn’t even sure why he’d given in. How many times over their years in high school had he brushed him away? Told him to fuck off and find someone else who had endless energy; that one summer camp of extra practice did not make him a monster like the rest of them.
And yet, it took nothing more than a single hit for Kei to slide back into old habits, the incessant need to block him rearing its head. It was rare for him to act on instinct alone, but with Hinata and Kageyama he already knew how they thought. So for once, he followed his gut instead of his brain.
A twinge jolted through his fingers as he felt the ball connect with his hands, his fourth finger still gave him issues even though it had healed perfectly fine after their match with Shiratorizawa. Kageyama insisted it was just psychosomatic pain, but Kei would just shrug it off. The smirk already formed on his lips, anticipating the sound of the ball hitting the court on Hinata’s side of the net to come.
It never did.
Instead, more pressure was put against his hands and that’s when Kei finally focused on what was happening. Hinata was grinning yet again, a fire in his eyes that was only present on the court. His hands were on the other side of the volleyball, pushing against it, completely catching Kei off guard. It wasn’t like Hinata never had the fight in him, far from it. His tenacious nature was something many people admired. While Kei had always taken note of it, it hadn’t always been in such a positive light.
But that was practically an eternity ago.
Now the fire that burned within Hinata was too infectious, spreading to anyone who stood too close to it for too long. His brain urged him to push back, but it was all for naught. He barely felt the wind whip against the side of his face before the familiar whack of the ball hitting the floor reverberated behind him.
Hinata had actually performed a dink on him. Without even warming up no less.
A sense of pride rippled through him, unsure if it was for Hinata or a loss of his own. There was only one thing that Kei was certain of as they both fell from the air— that was fucking hot.
He could feel the force of landing shoot up through his knees as he made contact with the ground, causing him to slouch as a way to hopefully soak up the rest of the shockwave. Hinata must have landed not soon after as he had ducked under the net before Kei could get himself fully upright. There he was, in Kei’s bubble once more— only a hair’s width away from his face, their labored breath lingering between them.
“Learned a lot, huh.”
A statement. Hinata knew how much he had grown. Kei knew it too. That’s not what Hinata wanted though. He was waiting for Kei to admit it. It’s one thing to know something for yourself, it’s another to hear it from someone else. Especially if that someone was a person who rarely gave an honest compliment. The grin on Hinata’s face was enough of a dare.
‘Tell me how good I am.’
“Couldn’t say.” Kei smirked, not willing to say anything outright. He leaned in closer, tangling his fingers in the mesh behind them, effectively trapping Hinata between himself and the net. “One trick isn’t a lot.”
But it’s something.
There was a shift in the mood, and the hair began to stand on the back of Kei’s neck as he watched Hinata’s face go from his usual hunger to something else. Something more primal. Anger maybe?
Not even close.
Whichever one of them leaned in first Kei would never be able to remember.
Hinata’s fist curled into the thin fabric of Kei’s practice shirt— tugging and pulling him closer, the distance between them gone in the blink of an eye.
Kei had kissed people before, in fact there were far more men on his list than most people would have expected given his usual closed off demeanor.
And plenty no one would believe either.
But once he got older and more mature, he wasn’t inclined to forbid himself from something that he wanted. Now, that wasn’t to say he was a complete slut either. He had standards. High ones, depending on who you asked. Where was Hinata on that list? So far down he wasn’t even considered, not even once.
A playful nip on Kei’s lips before parting them with his tongue shot him up several points.
He couldn’t help but snort at the fact that they were kissing in the middle of an empty gym, just like the shōjō manga Hitoka was so insistent that he read.
“Is this another one of your newly learned talents?”
Kei stubbornly tried to ignore the raspiness of his own voice as he broke their connection. Because they were in the gym and their old teammates could be walking through the door at any second. There was no way either of them would ever hear the end of it should they get caught.
“Like I said,” Hinata purred, “I learned lots. ”
Kei hummed in feigned discontentment, never able to let a chance to give his friend a hard time pass him by— knowing that he wouldn’t back down. Proud that he hadn’t lost his touch, he relished as Hinata’s face scrunched up in mild frustration. Hastily lunging forward, chapped lips smashing against his own once more just as he had hoped it would turn out.
In fact, Kei had been counting on it.
It felt ridiculous, egging him on like that. Especially when all the events leading up to this point suggested that Kei would only just need to ask for another. But deep down, that stubborn kid who’d rather push someone else into doing what he wanted instead of just asking for it lay dormant. Maybe it was just that Hinata brought it out in him.
Letting go of the net, Kei’s arm snaked behind and pulled Hinata closer, stopping himself from immediately scowling as he felt a smile against his mouth. The jackass was gloating. He was gloating and Kei was suffering. Fuck this . Forgoing any ‘easing’ into it (not that he expected anything less from Hinata), he forced his way into Kei’s mouth, tangling their tongues together.
A noise outside in the annex startled Kei, causing him to break off the kiss (and earning a whine from the man in front of him). They stood there in silence for a few moments, Kei praying that Hinata couldn’t hear his heart beating at a mile a minute, as they waited for anyone to round the corner and catch them.
“Kei—”
Hinata’s voice was soft, practically begging Kei to continue. He wasn’t about to argue any time soon. The dam had broken and a hunger had awakened inside of himself. One that he had no idea was slumbering deep underneath the surface.
As he went to move in again, the moment was broken— a familiar voice echoing through the gym and putting a halt to their momentary breach of the ‘friendship’ part of their relationship.
“Don’t tell me Hinata got stuck in the net again.”
Kei whipped around, Kageyama standing in the doorway with his signature ‘I’m not impressed’ pout.
“THAT WAS SO LONG AGO, STOP BRINGING IT UP, STUPID!”
Whatever tension that had popped up was completely gone. Hinata ducked under Kei’s arm and jogged over to Kageyama, whose eyes kept dancing back and forth between the other two. He always was more observant than Kei ever cared for. Not that he could really judge, being just as bad himself. Kageyama could definitely smell something was up, that much he could tell, but thankfully Hinata was just as good of a decoy as he’d always been.
As the duo continued to bicker, more of their old teammates started to trickle in, catching up like there had barely been any time apart. Kei managed to catch Hinata’s gaze briefly before Nishinoya ran over. His eyes sparkled, rife with something new and dangerous.
‘We’re gonna continue after practice.’
Tadashi would never let him live this down for the rest of his life.
Kei was completely and absolutely fucked.