Archive of Our Own

When Tobio’s phone lights up with an incoming call from Hinata, he honestly considers ignoring it. 

He has his reasons. This clip about how a wing spiker from a French team has sustained a major injury and likely won’t be playing in the upcoming season is… very interesting… because, you know, this French player that Kageyama can’t remember the name of (despite the fact that it was mentioned ten seconds ago) is someone who Kageyama spoke to briefly in passing beneath the bleachers at an international tournament about two years ago, and therefore his… knee injury (at least Tobio thinks it was his knee) is very important to him. 

Definitely. 

Tobio sighs. If it’s important, Hinata will call him back. 

But does Tobio even want Hinata to call a second, maybe even third time?

“What the hell do you want?” Tobio greets politely, answering the call. 

“Can you do me a favour?” Hinata asks, and— Hinata doesn't ask for favours, he just asks for Tobio to do things for him and he sometimes does them. 

Everything suddenly feels oddly formal, and Tobio sits up, straightens out, and even clears his throat. “What kind?” Tobio questions inquisitively. 

“W-Well, uh…” Hinata starts, stuttering, almost as if he's about to start crying . “S-So, do you remember Dashi?” 

The name sounds vaguely familiar to him. “Your boyfriend?” Tobio thinks back to the photos Hinata had showed him of the two of them. They were always so… touchy-feely in those photos. They made Tobio’s stomach twist. And his heart flutter. And his face get all warm. 

“Yeah, erm, about that,” Hinata says. “He’s my ex now, actually.” 

Oh. 

Tobio… doesn't know what to say, honestly. 

“He dumped me, like, yesterday,” Hihata says, filling the silence and static that Tobio allowed to settle. 

“Oh,” Tobio replies, and promptly decides that it's not enough consolation, even for his standards. “That’s shitty.” 

Hinata sniffles. “Yeah,” he mumbles, voice sounding substantially more shaky than it was about two seconds ago. Tobio can practically hear his lips trembling as he wills away tears, and he tries his best to wordlessly send the message of ‘ you're allowed to cry around me ’  through the phone.

“So? Do you want me to, like, comfort you, or something?” Tobio offers, and he really means it, but it comes out less lighthearted and more annoyed sounding. 

“No,” Hinata chokes out, trying to cut the word through an oncoming sob. Oops , Tobio thinks, he forgot he had that affect on people. “Yachi's d-done a lot for me… so far.” 

A faint voice in the background suddenly appears. “Hell yes, I have,” Yachi calls out, her voice distant at first, but sounding near when she adds: “I’ve been providing this guy with a steady supply of tissues, ice cream, and shitty reality shows for the past twelve hours straight. He’s in great hands, Kageyama, don't you worry.” 

“I wasn't worried,” Tobio replies, although he’ll admit that it is sort of comforting to hear that Hinata isn't trying to fix a broken heart on his own— Tobio knows how gruelling that process can be. “You better be in shape again by February, otherwise I’ll just feel bad beating you.” 

“The next time we go against you, we’ll win,” Hinata declares, all with the same confidence he's held and fostered since he was fourteen, making a promise on those concrete steps before Tobio’s world ended. 

Tobio scoffs. “Good luck.” Hinata growls back at him, and Tobio wants to laugh at the image of Hinata seething on the other side of the phone. 

He’s cut off, though, when he hears muddled murmuring on the other side, a hushed conversation that he can't quite decipher occurring between Hinata and Yachi. 

When it ends, Hinata pipes up with, quite frankly, the last question Tobio ever expected Hinata to ask him. 

“Oh yeah, I was gonna ask you— will you be my fake boyfriend for, like, two days?” 

Tobio chokes on absolutely nothing at all. Actually, no, he chokes on whatever the actual fuck that question was. 

“Huh?” he growls. “Dashi dumps you two days before Christmas, and now you're asking me to be your boyfriend ?” 

“ Fake boyfriend,” Hinata corrects. 

He’s fucking insane. 

“You’re fucking insane,” Tobio deadpans. He hears Yachi giggling next to Hinata. “What even is the difference between a real boyfriend and a fake boyfriend?” 

“One is real, one is fake,” Hinata explains. 

“I’m not some anime character, Hinata,” Tobio retorts. “I still don't get the difference.” 

“Well… it's like…” Hinata pauses to think. “If you're in a play and you're playing the police officer, in that moment, what’s the difference between you and a real police officer?” 

“The real police officer would have qualifications—” 

“Shut up,” Hinata interrupts, “you get the point.” 

“I really don’t—” 

“Just—” Hinata sighs, “will you be my fake boyfriend or not?” 

“No,” Tobio fires back, point blank. 

“Why notttttt?” Hinata whines. 

“Because I’m not stupid enough to date you, real or fake,” Tobio replies. “Besides, why can't you just ask Yachi?” 

“ Boyfriend , Kageyama. I told them I’d bring home my boyfriend, and Yachi doesn't quite fit the criteria,” Hinata explains. “And before you ask— no, I can’t fake-date Atsumu because Sakusa would rip my head off, I can’t fake-date Sakusa because Atsumu would rip my head off, I can’t fake-date Bokuto because it would just feel morally wrong — plus I wouldn't want to rip him away from Akaashi for the holidays— and I can’t fake-date Kenma because he’s in the middle of a charity subathon.” 

Tobio blinks. Wow, that's a lot of information to take in , he thinks. He also thinks it's wildly impressive that Hinata already covered all his bases— though he suspects that Yachi helped him out a little with that, because his explanation makes way too much sense. Tobio wouldn't be surprised if Yachi had written Hinata a script for him to read off of. 

Hinata huffs, “So, what do you think now?” 

“Still no,” Tobio replies. 

“Please, Kageyama,” Hinata begs. 

“Yeah, Kageyama,” Yachi joins in, “please? Help out a friend in need. Hinata's been crying for, like, seven hours straight.” 

“And me fake-dating him would somehow fix that?” Tobio questions. “This sounds like Hinata’s problem, not mine.” 

“Why don't you want to?” Hinata asks. 

“Because—” Tobio starts, about to explain for the second time that he's not stupid enough to date Hinata, regardless of whether or not it’s real or fake. 

“Are you scared you’re going to fall in love with me, or something?” Hinata questions. There’s an identifiable smugness in his tone and a teasing lilt to his words that sets off a spark in Tobio’s chest— one that ignites a small fire that rapidly burns into a bright blaze. 

Tobio shuts his mouth, then opens it again. Then shuts it. Then— “What’s in it for me?” 

“What?” Hinata and Yachi say in unison. 

“I’m not doing going to fake-date you for free.” 

He hears Yachi let out a celebratory ‘yippee!’ on the other side, 

“U-Um,” Hinata scrambles. This part must not have been scripted. “Y-You’ll get… all of my love and affection… for two days.” Tobio responds with silence. “And I’ll buy you dinner,” Hinata adds. More silence on Tobio’s end. “For a week?” More silence. “A month?” Silence. “Okay, I’m not doing two. It’s one month of dinner, take it or leave it.” 

“One month of you cooking me dinner,” Tobio requests. 

“One week,” Hinata haggles. 

(Now that Tobio thinks about it, one full month of Hinata being in his kitchen is probably too much for him anyway. He has very little confidence his appliances will even last a week under Hinata’s reign.) 

“Two weeks,” Tobio says firmly, “that’s final.” 

“Deal,” Hinata replies. Tobio would shake his hand if he could. “Be in Sendai at noon tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at the train station, then we’ll head to my family's place. My mom and sister will be there, and my grandma, my uncle, and my cousins will be joining us for dinner. Try to look… decent.” 

“ Decent ?” Tobio hisses. “Aren’t you supposed to be nice, fake boyfriend ?” 

Hinata bursts out laughing, and he seems to be the only one. “Oh, my apologies, Kageyama,” he says, words lacking authenticity, erring on the side of teasing . “I guess you're right,” he adds, schooling himself, tone lowering into… something — almost a purr— that makes Tobio’s stomach flip. “I really should be nicer, shouldn't I?” 

Tobio has a feeling he’ll regret this . 

Tobio definitely regrets this. 

But of course this wasn't a realization he could have made earlier that morning at a time where he could realistically cancel. He doesn't even make this realization on the train from Tokyo to Sendai. 

No, Tobio makes this realization when he gets into the passenger seat of Hinata’s car. 

Which, now that Tobio is sitting in the uncomfortably sticky seat, he’s starting to believe is actually Hinata’s mom’s car. 

Regardless, Tobio is pleasantly disappointed to discover that Hinata can not only speak three different languages, but he can also drive a car. Just another skill to add to Tobio’s list of things to do so he doesn't fall too far behind. Fantastic. 

Tobio squeezes his bag between his feet, holding it still as Hinata peels out of the parking lot at the train station. He expects the absolute worst, and instead receives Hinata checking his mirrors and over his shoulder as he changes lanes, accompanied by Wham’s Last Christmas playing on the radio. 

“I have a plan,” Hinata announces. 

“If it’s stupid, I’m jumping out of this car and taking the next train back to Tokyo,” Tobio mutters. 

“Yachi helped me come up with it,” Hinata mentions. Tobio slowly releases the car’s door handle. “If anyone asks, we started dating just after our first V-League game against each other. It was nice to reconnect again, especially since I’d just spent two years in Brazil. We’ve kept things on the down-low because our team managers didn't want word getting out and causing a scandal.” 

Tobio sputters, barking out a laugh. The mere thought of them reuniting on the court and immediately falling in love in incredibly comedic. “That’s rediculous,” Tobio comments. 

(But, to Hinata— and Yachi’s credit, it is believable.) 

“It doesn't need to be some K-Drama-esque love story where I save you from being hit by a car—” 

“Um, I would be the one saving you from being hit by a car,” Tobio interrupts, setting the record straight. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say,” Hinata replies, and Tobio feels like there's sarcasm in his tone, but he’s said the words anyway and that's enough. “It’s not like the story has to be detailed or anything,” Hinata continues, “but also we’ve been on one date, you took me to a fancy restaurant and I bought you flowers, I’ve spent a week at your place— but don't worry about the details for that one, just make it up as you go— and we just celebrated our one year anniversary where we went on a hike and had a picnic at the top of a mountain.”

The dump of information slowly registers in Tobio’s brain bit by bit. He blinks slowly. “Did you come up with that last part?” Hinata presses his lips into a thin line and nods. “What's the point of having a story anyway?” Tobio asks. “Can’t we just tell them the truth?” 

“It’s to prove our love , Tobio,” Hinata replies in earnest.

Tobio’s face scrunches up. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Better to get used to it now rather than later,” Hinata chirps. 

“Whatever.” Tobio rolls his eyes. “What's the point of proving our love anyway? We’re not in love.” 

“But we have to pretend to be, for, like, two days.” 

“This was such a bad idea,” Tobio mutters. 

“Come onnnn,” Hinata whines, pushing Tobio’s shoulder, “it’ll be fun! It’s not like we get to see each other every day anymore. Besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do.” 

Tobio sighs. He regrets not making up some wild lie to get himself out of doing this— truthfully telling Hinata that his sister is spending Christmas with her fiancée, and that ever since Tobio moved out, his parents have celebrated Christmas by sending him cards and gifts rather than actually seeing him in person, was probably not the brightest idea. 

Then again, a lie likely wouldn't have been any use either considering Tobio is an absolute shit liar. 

Tobio grumbles, “Whatever,” shifting in his seat so he’s facing away from Hinata, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

Next to him, Hinata giggles. “I can hear you pouting from here,” he says. 

“Focus on the road!” Tobio barks back. 

“You’re adorable,” Hinata replies, smugly.

“We’re not even at your house yet!” Tobio exclaims. Hinata laughs harder. 

This, Tobio realizes, is going to be a veryyyyy long two days. 

Never did Tobio believe that there'd be a day in which he’d think ‘Huh, Hinata Shouyou is kind of sexy .’ 

Allow him to explain. 

In general, Hinata is kind of annoying. He’s too bright and bubbly to exist; he’s basically the human incarnation of the fucking sun. He’s always so optimistic about everything , always believing that there's a way out of every shitty scenario he finds himself in. He’s got this unwavering determination and motivation that makes him a monster on the court, but off the court he’s just some guy who sees way too much good in the world— a happy-go-lucky main character, if you will. 

But ‘sexiness’ isn't really something that manifests itself in one’s personality. Which is almost worse because Hinata isn't some kind of supermodel. 

Sure, when Hinata’s put in the context of a fan edit on Instagram, Tobio can kind of understand the appeal, but in terms of day-to-day living, Hinata’s just… Hinata . Bright orange hair, freckles on his nose that used to only pop up in the summertime but seem to have stayed since his time in Brazil, teeth that are slightly crooked and are almost always on display in a smile— all Hinata, bright to match his personality. 

And maybe Hinata can be sort of sweet from time to time, and maybe Hinta can be sort of attractive when he’s playing volleyball (something about his unwavering focus and determination and just knowing that if you hesitate for even a second, he’ll rip you the shreds), but otherwise, he’s just Hinata , nothing super appealing about him. 

Until… he’s backing into his parents driveway. 

Hinata driving was something Tobio had learned to cope with over the course of their trip from the Sendai train station out to the boonies of the Miyagi prefecture. It was a bit of a shock to the system during the first few traffic lights— the ease at which Hinata had shifted through the gears— and again when he’d change lanes and check his blind spots. But nothing— nothing could have prepared Tobio for Hinata putting his arm around the back of Tobio’s seat, twisting his torso and looking straight back, shifting into reverse, and backing into the small driveway with fucking ease . 

Nothing. Nothing could have prepared Tobio for it. 

Which is why he’s flustered— face all warm and definitely a little red— and thinking ‘ Huh, Hinata Shouyou is kind of sexy .’ 

“Okay,” Hinata sighs, pulling up the parking brake and killing the engine, “you remember the story, right?” 

Fucking hell, this very moment right here right now may just be the start of the story. No need for the bullshit he and Yachi came up with earlier. 

Tobio clears his throat, “Um, we started… going out after you came back from Brazil,” he says, “a-and we’ve been on one date. And you stayed at my place and we’ve been on a mountain.” 

“Close enough,” Hinata shrugs. “And remember, from now on my name is..?” Hinata leaves Tobio to finish his sentence. 

Tobio frowns, curling into himself as Hinata’s given name settles in the back of throat, ready to leave his tongue. It’s not a big deal— Tobio knows that— it just feels… too intimate. Hinata’s been Hinata since Tobio was, like, fourteen. Hinata now becoming Shouyou almost feels too sudden. And Tobio doesn't drink, but he feels like Hinata— or, Shouyou should at least buy him one first. 

“Shouyou,” Tobio mumbles reluctantly. The word feels completely foreign on his tongue, almost as if it came from another language. 

“Great!” Hina— Shouyou chirps. The driver’s side door clicks open. “Then let's go. I’ll carry your stuff in for you.”

“I don’t need you to—” Tobio starts in retaliation, but cuts himself off. He’s not entirely keen on pretending to be Hinat— Shouyou’s partner, even if it’s only for two days. But he’s already up to his knees in whatever this is, and he might as well commit to it. Shouyou had made a promise to Natsu, and Tobio knows from experience that Shouyou is not one to break promises. 

And, although Tobio would rather be struck by fifty consecutive bolts of lightning than say it out loud, he does genuinely feel a little bad about Shouyou’s situation. Being dumped three days before Christmas is fucking awful. Tobio never met Dashi in person, but he seemed… nice? He looked nice— like, he could see why Shouyou would be attracted to him. Who knew he would end up being a massive dick. 

Shouyou deserved better than that. That , Tobio will admit aloud. He won’t, like, probably ever, because Shouyou would never come down from that ego trip if he did, but you wouldn’t have to waterboard it out of him. Shouyou can be annoying as hell sometimes, but he’s loyal, and he’s kind of sweet, and deserves someone who won’t dump him the day after Tobio’s birthday. Shouyou deserves someone who won’t dump him period . 

Tobio looks down at his friend as they make their way to the front door, watching as he carries far more bags than necessary. Tobio doesn’t think Shouyou deserves him , per se, but if given the opportunity, and if he really really wanted to, Tobio thinks he’d be able to treat Shouyou right. Which is a totally normal thing to think about your friend. Definitely. 

They pause when they reach Hinata’s front door. Tobio, of course, isn’t about to be the one to knock— this isn’t his house. But Shouyou doesn’t seem to want to do it either. His hands may be full, but they’re not that full. 

After about ten long seconds of silence, Tobio finally asks, “Are you going to knock?” 

Still, Shouyou’s response is delayed. “Oh, um… yeah, I will,” he says, reaching one hand up, clenching it into a fist, and tapping his knuckles against the door. “I was just having, like, second thoughts, I guess.” 

“Second thoughts?” Tobio growls. “You dragged me all the way out here and you’re not even sure if—”

“Shouyou!” comes a warm voice from the other side of the now-open door. 

“Hi mom,” Shouyou greets, a fond smile on both of their faces, and it’s with equal fondness that Tobio notes that they share the same smile. 

Shouyou’s mom immediately pulls Shouyou into a tight hug, seeming to squeeze the life out of him with it, utterly destroying Shouyou, who's defenseless with a bag in each hand. She’s only a little shorter than he is, and she’s got the same orange hair he does. It’s just now that Tobio’s realizing this is the first time he’s properly met her, having only seen glimpses of her at their high school graduation. 

“And Tobio!” Shouyou’s mom says, catching Tobio entirely off-guard. He didn’t expect her to know his name, nor did he expect her to greet him with a hug as well. It’s every bit as suffocating as Shouyou’s appeared to be, but it’s also every bit as comforting. Tobio doesn’t really remember the last time he received a hug from his mom; it might have even been before Kazuyo passed. 

Shouyou’s mom lets go of Tobio and takes a few steps back inside, shuffling out of the way of the door to let them in. Tobio follows Shouyou’s lead into the genkan, where they toe off their shoes and hang up their coats before heading further inside. 

Tobio hadn’t gotten to see the entirety of Shouyou’s outfit, having only seen the jeans he’d decided to wear. With his jacket off, though, Tobio’s pleasantly surprised to see a dark red flannel, unbuttoned to reveal the white shirt he’s wearing underneath. Tobio’s also gone for jeans, but deciding to keep it classy with a basic white button up. However, seeing Shouyou’s choice of t-shirt, Tobio realizes that they almost look like they’re matching.

“You boys get comfortable,” Shouyou’s mom says. “If you need anything, I’ll be tidying up around the house.” 

Tobio’s shoulders sag as Shouyou’s mother strides down the hall, turning the corner, and stepping out of sight. The reality of the situation starts to settle in with their newfound isolation— Tobio is here for two days, one night, and he has to interact with Shouyou as if they’re a couple. Just acting like a couple of really close friends won’t do— he has to actually be physically affectionate with him if he wants this to land. 

Which begs the question— does he even want this to land? He’s here, spending Christmas with Shouyou— shouldn’t that be enough? 

Tobio doesn’t have enough time to figure out the answer to that, decidedly, as Hinata Natsu comes running down the hall, sprinting at them at full speed.

“SHOUYOU!” she yells, shouting with just as much enthusiasm as Shouyou does when he calls out Tobio’s name. It must run in the family. 

Natsu fully looks like she’s about to crash into the two of them— Tobio even braces himself for the impact— but Natsu comes to a stuttering halt just before she reaches the genkan.

“Kageyama?” she questions, eyebrow lifting, cocking her head to the side, the bright orange french braids in her hair falling with it. 

Tobio freezes like a deer in headlights. 

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Natsu says. “Like, please tell me your actual boyfriend dumped you or something, and you’ve just brought Kageyama as backup to please me, because there is no way you two are actually together.” 

Unexpectedly, as if the universe has finally decided to show Tobio some mercy, he is presented with the opportunity to do something incredibly funny right now. 

“Actually—” Tobio starts, looking to set things straight— tell Natsu that she is entirely correct in her wild assumption and that Tobio is just Shouyou’s friend, and that he’s going through a tough time right now so she should be nice, and— 

“I’m not kidding,” Shouyou interrupts, “he’s my actual boyfriend.” 

People have told Tobio that his glares could shoot daggers at anyone they’re aimed at, and for once in Tobio’s life, he wishes it were true as he glares as hard as he possibly can at Shouyou. 

“Seriously? This guy?” Natsu asks. “I thought you hated him.” 

“I don’t hate him,” Hinata clarifies. 

“But anytime you’ve brought him up, you’ve always been like ‘Kageyama is so annoying. He’s always so perfect all the time and it pisses me off!’ ” 

Apparently the ability to do really good impressions also runs in the family . 

Tobio feels simultaneously flattered and offended. He eases back on the glare— but only slightly. 

“Well, you know…” Shouyou sighs, “things change, I guess.” He turns his head to look up at Tobio, but jumps when he sees the look on his face. Shouyou quickly turns back to his sister, flashing her an awkward smile and subtly swatting at Tobio. “ Stop that ,” he whispers. Tobio obliges, expression softening. 

“Huh,” Natsu huffs. “In that case, welcome to the family, Kageyama!” She extends her hand, holding it open, inviting Tobio to shake it. Tobio takes it hesitantly— it’s certainly a different greeting than the one her mother gave him. “Seriously, Shouyou, you need to get a better taste in men,” Natsu adds. “I mean, you’ve known this guy since, what, high school . Get over it, bro.” 

Shouyou’s jaw drops, unable to shoot back a response. Tobio snorts, giving Natsu’s hand an appreciative squeeze. 

Natsu finishes with a quick, “I’m proud of you, though,” before dropping Tobio’s hand and taking off down the hall again. Tobio is still chuckling to himself even after she’s gone, which earns him another swat to the arm. 

“Let’s get this shit put away,” Shouyou mumbles. It’s not the most vulgar sentence he’s ever heard Shouyou speak— which is a crazy claim, seriously, Tobio’s heard some of the language that gets thrown around in the MSBY change rooms— it’s just… different hearing it in the comfort of a family home. 

Which perfectly explains why Tobio’s stomach coils with a surge of heat, spreading all the way up through his chest and cheeks. Definitely no other reason behind it— nothing at all to do with the fact that he’s made the recent realization that Hinata Shouyou is kind of sexy. Nope. 

Leaning against the wall next to Shouyou’s door, Tobio watches as Shouyou finishes sorting out his ‘shit.’ 

He stuffs his clothes into one of the drawers of his otherwise empty dresser, and makes a pile out of the presents of which Tobio assumes is for his family. There’s a pretty good array of gifts, and Tobio makes a bit of a game out of guessing what’s for who— he assumes the tea towels are for his mother, knee pads are for his sister, and the small, velvet drawstring bag with something inside of it is for… 

Well, Tobio isn’t actually too sure who that one’s for, but he’s assuming it’s for someone special. Maybe a cousin Shouyou hasn’t seen in a while, or something. 

Tobio didn’t bring any gifts. He didn’t really have time to go Christmas shopping— last minute or not— for Shouyou’s family. He just hopes his presence will be enough of a present. 

He did, however, bring clothes, of which he shoved into the dresser drawer just below the one Shouyou’s clothes were stuffed into (Tobio would have bickered longer for the top drawer, especially because he was taller and leaning down to get clothes would hurt his back or something, but Shouyou had pointed out that the dresser was technically his so they ran under his rules, and any arguments Tobio wanted to try past that point were proved futile, so he left it). 

Surprisingly, considering the length of their friendship, this is actually the first time Tobio’s been inside the Hinata household. 

During high school, he never had a reason to come over. If they ever needed to be under the same roof, they’d just settle for Tobio’s place because it wasn’t a half hour bike ride away, nor was it up a mountain. The most he’d ever seen of Shouyou’s place was a little bit of his desk when he sent Tobio pictures of his assignment when he was looking for answers. 

But now, Tobio can actually see that desk. In full. And looking at it now, it’s a decent size— a little on the empty side, but so is the rest of his room, seeing as he no longer lives in it. The walls are pretty bare, not a single poster in sight, but Tobio assumes those also moved with him when he left for Osaka. His dresser is a decent size— three drawers, tucked inside an empty closet, and his bed is…

Well, begrudgingly, his bed is quite small. 

It’s evidently made for one. And even if they were still the same size as they were in their first year of high school, it's still be a tight fit. Now, with all the muscle they’ve amassed and how they’ve both grown in height, there is no way they are both fitting on that bed whilst maintaining a platonic gap between them. They’d have to be wrapped around each other like a damn pretzel to fit comfortably on the mattress. 

“Do you have, like, a futon or something?” Tobio asks. 

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Shouyou replies, continuing to sort through his gifts. “Why would we need one anyway?” 

“Because there’s no way we’re both fitting on your bed,” Tobio points out. “We’d have to fuse into a single being to fit.” 

“Yeah, but getting a futon would look suspicious.” 

“Suspicious? Wanting to be comfortable while we sleep is suspicious?”

“Yes. We’re kind of expected to cuddle.” 

Tobio cringes. He’s very particular about his sleeping accommodations, what position he sleeps in, how hot or cold he is while he sleeps, and having another person in his bed would throw all that off entirely. “I’m not cuddling with you,” Tobio states. 

“Too bad!” Shouyou replies. “It’s just for one night, you’ll be fine.” 

“I just said I’m not doing it.” 

“Then sleep on the floor. We can just say you fell off the bed or something if anyone asks.” 

Tobio groans. “Why didn’t you just tell your sister the truth in the first place?” he mutters. “That would make this whole thing so much easier.” 

“Because she really wanted to meet you,” Shouyou explains, “or Dashi, or whoever I was with. She was so excited that I’d finally found someone, and I didn’t want to let her down. Besides, I’d made a promise to her, and breaking it would’ve been more of a dick move than Dashi dumping me.” 

“Couldn’t you just say that, though?” Tobio asks. “Just tell her that you got dumped two days before Christmas and that she should feel bad.” 

“I didn’t want to put that burden onto her either.” Shouyou sighs, setting the last gift in place before standing up. “If you really don’t want to be here, I can just tell everyone you aren’t feeling well and drive you back to the train station,” he says, a certain sadness that Tobio assumes can only stem from heartbreak thick in his tone, “it’s up to you.” 

Tobio keeps his mouth shut. He knows that if he opens it, he’ll say something he’ll regret. 

He lets Shouyou walk past him. “I’m gonna grab the wrapping paper,” he says, sliding his bedroom door open, but lingering inside his room for a moment longer, adding, “it’d be best if you made your choice sooner rather than later,” before heading off down the hall. 

For a moment, Tobio thoughtlessly peers down at the pile of presents on the floor. Tea towels, knee pads— a mysterious velvet baggie of which he desperately wants to know the contents of— they all sort of strike a chord within him. 

Tobio hasn’t had a proper Christmas since he was twelve. 

It was the last Christmas before his grandfather passed away— the last Christmas he ever had with his family. After Kazuyo passed, things fell apart in more ways than one. Internally, Tobio fell apart, and externally, his family did too. Miwa moved out, and Tobio’s parents started working more than ever— his father to keep the bills paid, and his mother to keep herself from emotionally processing the passing of her father. 

Nobody celebrated Christmas after Kazuyo died— at least not the way they used to. Dinner on Christmas Eve had been the same as any other dinner, something home cooked, but nothing special. Gifts were never wrapped, just exchanged, and even that came to an end after Tobio entered high school— gifts turning into cards with a handful of cash stuffed inside. Miwa would only visit every other year, but more so for Tobio’s birthday rather than Christmas, usually leaving the day of, or sometimes just before.

If he leaves, he’ll be rejecting a proper Christmas. He’ll be rejecting time spent with his friend, and by extension, his second family— the only put-together family he knows. He’ll be rejecting healing for his inner child. 

Most importantly, he'll be rejecting Shouyou. 

But if he stays, he’ll be forced to lie— and he is a shit liar. If he stays, he’ll be expected to treat Shouyou like a lover. If he stays… 

Would he even hate that? Treating Shouyou like a lover?  

He’s not actually his lover. They’re not actually a thing. Shouyou is his best friend— technically speaking— so what if they have to, like, hold hands, or call each other by their given names and stuff? 

Tobio looks at the small pile of gifts again and sighs. 

This evening , he decides. If he can’t make it through the evening, he’ll call it quits. 

The door next to him slides open again, Shouyou reappearing with wrapping paper, scissors, and tape. Shouyou slides the door shut again, looking up at him expectantly. “So?” he asks. 

Tobio huffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I’ll stay,” he admits. “But if it all goes to hell this evening, I’m leaving.” 

A bright, wide smile spreads across Shouyou’s face, and for a moment, Shouyou looks like he could kiss him. 

Instead, Shouyou reaches up to pat Tobio’s shoulder. “Don’t let your hopes get too high,” he says, taking his wrapping paper down to the floor. 

“And then she swept in like ‘ whoosh ,’ and managed to pick up the ball that got blocked, passed it to our setter, who sent it to me for to score the set point,” Natsu explained, gesturing around with her hands, recreating the story she was telling about her most recent practice match against another powerhouse school. “I mean, in the end we ended up losing, but that point was just—” her hands flail around wildly, “ gwahh , you know?” 

Tobio nods. He does know. It’s also nice to have another Hinata speaking his language— volleyball, described in the form of sound effects because words don’t quite do the trick sometimes. 

“Oh yeah, Kageyama, I was also thinking about going pro after high school, what do you—” 

“Children,” Shouyou’s mother calls out, poking her head into the living room where they’ve congregated, “and Tobio— we have visitors.” 

Shouyou and Natsu rise in unison, Tobio following shortly behind. Shouyou shuffles closer to Tobio— he’d been sitting on the cushion next to him, not too far away to seem ‘suspicious,’ but far enough for there to be a reasonable amount of distance between them— looping his arm around Tobio’s. 

Natsu has already skipped out of the living room, leaving them with enough solitude for Tobio to safely ask, “Is this really necessary?” without getting scolded by Shouyou. 

“For appearances sake,” Shouyou answers. Tobio sighs, rolling his eyes, but doesn’t make a move to separate himself from the other. They leave the living room together.

Already standing in the genkan is Shouyou’s grandmother, uncle, and two cousins— one girl who appears to be around Natsu’s age, and one boy who looks to be around ten or eleven years old. Tobio feels a little nervous approaching them with Shouyou clinging onto his arm, but continues to let him hold on anyway, bracing himself for the worst. 

“Shouyou, it has been so very long!” Shouyou’s grandmother chirps, sounding far too cheerful for an elder— but, Tobio supposes, she is a Hinata, high-energy runs in the family. “You have grown so much since the last time I have seen you.” 

Shouyou flusters. “Thank you,” he says, smiling. “Um, this is Tobio,” he adds, gesturing to him, “Natsu said she really wanted to meet my boyfriend, so, well, here he is!” 

In the split second between Shouyou’s introduction, and his grandma’s response, Tobio braces for the utmost worst— the rejection, the disgust, anything really. He just hopes her remarks won’t be meaner than the kids in middle school were. 

“Ah, Tobio, it is very nice to meet you,” Shouyou’s grandmother says, holding Tobio’s freehand in both of her own, shaking it gently. “I am Hinata Masuyo. You may refer to me by my given name, if you choose to.” 

“O-Oh, um—” Tobio bows as much as he can with Shouyou clinging onto him, “it’s very nice to meet you as well.” Masuyo offers Tobio a kind smile, letting go of his hands and shuffling past them, heading off to make herself comfortable. 

“Shouyou, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” Shouyou’s cousin says, leaning against the wall to help her balance as he removes her shoes. 

“Yep!” Shouyou muses. “Tobio, this is Sachiko— Sachiko, Tobio.” Tobio bows his head to her; Sachiko nods at him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Tobio spots Shouyou’s other cousin step out from behind his uncle’s back. He peers up at them, looking a little afraid, clinging to the back of his father’s shirt. 

“Hi, Osuke,” Shouyou greets in a soft voice, waving to the younger boy. Osuke offers a hesitant wave in response. Shouyou’s uncle laughs. 

“Come on, Osuke, say hello to Shouyou,” he coaxes, “and his… friend.” Tobio presses his lips into a thin line, nodding. 

“Right— Tobio, darling ,” Shouyou says, emphasizing the pet name, squeezing Tobio’s arm a little tighter, and Tobio physically feels his brain short-circuit, “this is my uncle, Hinata Daiki. Uncle Daiki, this is my boyfriend, Tobio.” 

Daiki offers Tobio a forced smile, of which Tobio doesn’t return. Instead, he ever-so-slightly bows his head, you know, for appearances sake. 

They all shuffle off to the living room shortly after the greetings. Shouyou’s mother brings in a platter of snacks— little pastries and cakes, a platter of sliced fruit, and a stack of teacups and small plates, promising tea once it’s ready. There’s still a couple hours before dinner, so Tobio sets himself up with a plate, grabbing a small chocolate cake, a couple slices of strawberry, and a handful of blueberries. 

“Tobio, can you grab me a clementine?” Shouyou asks. 

Tobio turns his head immediately, looking at Shouyou with a raised eyebrow. “Just a clementine?” he questions. “The cakes look really good.” 

“Yeah, well, I also just ate, like, two tubs of ice cream three days ago, so…” Shouyou replies shyly, averting his gaze to the ground with shame. 

“And? You’ve still got time to get in shape again,” Tobio points out. “Aren’t you expected to eat mountains of food during Christmas time anyway?” 

Shouyou shrugs. “I guess.” 

“Great. What cake do you want?” 

Shouyou sends Tobio a fond smile that makes Tobio’s heart momentarily stop. Tobio turns away from Shouyou before he can notice the blush that starts to spread across his face, looking at the plate of cakes. 

“I’ll have the vanilla one, please,” Shouyou requests. Tobio places a small vanilla cake on Shouyou’s plate, alongside a clementine. 

He settles back into his place on the couch, sitting smushed against Shouyou’s side. There are three cushions on the couch they’re sitting on. The cushion on the right is occupied by Shouyou’s grandmother— Masuyo— leaving the remaining two cushions to Shouyou and Tobio. The other couch adjacent to them is occupied by Sachiko, Osuke, and Daiki, and knowing Shouyou’s mother would be back soon with the tea, Shouyou and Tobio have decided to curl up together, leaving enough room on the middle cushion for her. 

Tobio also can’t help but feel inklings of satisfaction every time Daiki looks over at them with a grimace on his face. So what if he has to sit a little closer to Shouyou than he normally would? He’s sat next to him on the bus ride back from volleyball tournaments and training camps plenty of times where they’ve bumped shoulders on rough roads— a little bit of physical contact wouldn’t kill him, especially if he gets to shove it in Daiki’s face. 

Tobio isn’t a fan of public displays of affection, but if it means pissing off a homophobe, he’s all for it. 

“Thank you, dear,” Shouyou says, accepting the plate. They simultaneously smirk smugly at Daiki, who turns away with a huff, pulling Osuke into his side; Sachiko crosses her arms and rolls her eyes on the other side of the couch.

Tobio curls his legs up so his knees can rest on Shouyou’s thighs, balancing his own plate on his legs to free his hand, allowing him to wrap his arm around Shouyou’s shoulder while keeping another hand free to eat his cake. Consciously, he knows Daiki’s not looking anymore, so there’s no reason to put on a show. Tobio’s doing this… just in case he looks… of course, which could be at any time. 

“Oh, aren’t you two just so sweet,” Masuyo comments, patting Tobio on the shoulder, smiling. “My dear, Daiki, do not be so sour.” 

Daiki merely huffs in response, side-eyeing Shouyou and Tobio as he slowly loosens his grip on his son. Osuke freezes, looking around with only his eyes. 

“You know, Kageyama, now that I’m thinking about it,” Natsu pipes up from her spot on the floor, “it’d actually be pretty freaking awesome if my brother-in-law was a world-class volleyball player. I mean, imagine the bragging rights .” 

Tobio’s eyes widen at the word ‘ brother-in-law .’ Shouyou says something in response— something that makes Natsu roll her eyes— but Tobio doesn’t hear it, his mind flooding with the thought of marrying Shouyou. 

And to his surprise… it doesn’t really disgust him. Not as much as it should, anyway. 

Truthfully, Tobio can’t see himself with anyone in the future. His future is comprised of volleyball. He doesn’t have room for other people. Even if there was someone he potentially wanted to go out with, they’d have to adjust to his training schedule and understand that as important as they are, they’ll never be more important than volleyball. It’s cruel, but Tobio would take volleyball over anyone else all day. 

However, Shouyou, in a sense, is volleyball. He’s what made volleyball fun again— he’s what makes volleyball fun. He gives Tobio something to run towards— a goal to chase— and even when they reach it, they just keep going, the both of them. They motivate each other, chasing one another in circles like a dog chasing its own tail. Shouyou is the reason why Tobio fights so hard. Shouyou is the reason why Tobio is where he is today— playing for Adler’s, having played in the Olympics. Without him, Tobio doesn’t even know if he’d be playing volleyball anymore. 

Shouyou wouldn’t have any trouble adjusting to Tobio’s training schedule. In fact, he may even join him. Shouyou would understand that volleyball is Tobio’s utmost priority, and he would agree wholeheartedly. 

So— sure, Natsu may be right again. Tobio might— maybe— if the stars aligned and the universe crafted the perfect path just for them— Tobio might just consider marrying Shouyou. 

Tobio sighs deeply, pushing his face into Shouyou’s shoulder. He could not do this— he could not let Shouyou win. 

Two days , he tells himself. 

He just has to keep himself from falling in love with Shouyou for two days. 

Hating Hinata Shouyou is much easier said than done. 

And Tobio’s said it a bunch of times in his life. He’s called Shouyou a dumbass, he’s told him he hates him— and by all means, provided how annoying Shouyu can be, and how his drive for volleyball is endless and disgustingly admirable— he should hate him. 

But there isn’t a single point in Tobio’s life in which he’s ever hated Hinata Shouyou. Yes, he’s found him annoying, and yes, they’ve argued, but he’s never outright hated him. 

Which makes trying to hate him much more inconvenient. 

That’s not to say Tobio’s trying to despise him to the point where he doesn't want to be around him anymore, he’s just looking for reasons to not fall in love with him. And he takes the fact that there are none as one; there are no reasons to not fall in love with Hinata Shouyou and Tobio hates him for that. 

Tobio doesn’t know the exact reason why Dashi dumped Shouyou, but despite actively looking for one, even if Shouyou gave him the entire rundown of the situation, Tobio still wouldn’t understand why. Shouyou’s just— he’s so— he’s such a sweet guy. 

Even if it’s all just pretend, Tobio can’t calm the butterflies flapping away in his chest when they’re called to the dinner table and Shouyou walks him there with an arm around his waist, nor can he help the fact that he feels morally obligated to put his arm around Shouyou’s shoulder in return. He doesn’t even mean to . He just does . Because Hinata Shouyou apparently has that effect on him. 

The butterflies only go away once they’re seated at the table, an array of fried chicken spread out on platters set on top, and even then, another feeling swoops in to replace them, one that Tobio’s not entirely familiar with, but thinks it’s something akin to yearning . Which is odd, because Kageyama Tobio does not yearn , especially for his best friend’s arm to stay wrapped around his waist. That would be insane. 

“Is this KFC?” Daiki asks, pointing to a platter of fried chicken legs. 

“Yes,” Shouyou’s mother replies, the cheerfulness in her voice that Tobio’s grown accustomed to suddenly no longer present, “because I spent all day making the cakes you’ve been eating, and I was not going to cook dinner as well. Besides, it was cheaper than getting the ingredients for a homemade meal, and it’ll probably taste better, too, so eat up!” 

With that, everyone reaches in to grab their fill. Shouyou’s mother had prepared some freshly chopped veggies to go with their meal, which Shouyou looked quite pleased with. Tobio ended up filling most of his plate with chicken, a variety of sauces, and a handful of veggies on the side— mostly to appease Shouyou. 

Christmas music filled the silence as everyone took their first few bites, but was soon overtaken by Natsu’s voice. “Shouyou, I’ve just been dying to know this, but, like, when did you fall in love with Kageyama?” she asks, pointing to the two of them with the end of her chicken wing’s bone. 

Shouyou swallows his bite quickly, nearly choking on it with how rapidly it goes down, and— honestly, for how prepared Shouyou was going into this, he seems to be the most on-edge. 

“After our V-League division game last fall,” Shouyou chokes out. “W-We met up after the game and— I mean—” Shouyou looks up desperately at Tobio, who offers his arm around Shouyou’s shoulder for emotional support, “it had been so long since we’d seen each other, and we just sort of… hit if off, I guess.” 

“Huh,” Natsu hums, picking a piece of chicken out from between her teeth. “What about you, Kageyama?” 

Tobio suddenly understands why Shouyou felt so anxious. He knows that, realistically, all he has to do is say the same thing— it was after their game, they hit it off, whatever— but it was different having everyone’s eyes on him, all waiting expectantly. All except for…

“Do we really need to be talking about this right now?” Daiki suddenly jumps in, sounding perturbed. “My children are right here .” 

“I don’t care, dad,” Sachiko interjects. “And I don’t think Osuke does either.” 

Tobio turns to Osuke, who looks like he’s about to cry, half-dissociated, staring at his plate of fried chicken. 

“Daiki, let the boys tell their story,” Masuyo says. “I do not believe they are often given the chance to because of people like you.” Daiki opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Masuyo reaches over to him and closes his jaw with the back of her hand. “Tobio, please ignore my son. Tell your story.” 

Tobio nods, heart hammering as everyone’s eyes settle back onto him (including Daiki’s). 

Simply telling the same story over again would be lame, but he’s also in no position to lie. Everyone would see right through him if he lied now, and although he said he would leave if the evening went to hell, he’s not sure if he even wants to leave anymore. 

“W-Well, it was our third year of high school,” Tobio starts, and out of the corner of his eyes he sees Shouyou gawking up at him, “a-and… Shouyou was at my place to study before our winter exams. The snow was coming down pretty heavy, and he didn’t really have a way of getting home, so he just ended up staying at my place for the night. And… I might have just been tired from all the studying, but that was the first time I noticed that what I felt for him was more than just… a friend feeling.” 

Tobio tears his gaze away from his plate where he’d been staring, instead placing it upon Shouyou, who’s looking up at him with wide eyes. He offers a smug smirk, knowing that he’s one-upped him— maybe even two -upped him— but for the first time ever , Shouyou doesn’t growl or try to fight back. He still looks at Tobio as if he’s just confessed his love for him, and—

Oh. 

Oh . 

Tobio’s done just that, hasn’t he? 

He thinks back to it with a little more depth now. It was a late night in the middle of December, just before Tobio’s eighteenth birthday. Shouyou had followed Tobio home after practice, textbooks and binders full of Yachi’s notes tucked away in his bag that had a gaping hole in one of the bottom corners from years of use. Tobio grabbed them a couple boxes of the protein milk he usually drinks after practice, and they got to studying. 

Tobio studied at his desk, lamp turned onto his paper, while Shouyou sat at a small table Tobio had set up on the floor for him. They went pretty strong for a fairly long time considering they were left unsupervised, but eventually they both got tired and decided to take a break. Tobio spent his break stretching his arms and legs while Shouyou simply flopped over the table, using his notebook as a pillow. 

It was then when Tobio noticed the amount of snow that had accumulated outside. He’d mentioned it to Shouyou, who’d immediately shot up to look out the window. There was a brief moment of panic, Shouyou not knowing how he was going to get home considering his only option was his bike. Tobio simply offered for him to stay the night and go home the next morning once the streets were plowed. 

Somehow, Shouyou agreed. They used the last few minutes of their break to change into comfier clothes— Tobio into pyjamas, and Shouyou into a shirt Tobio offered him (it was one of his older shirts— one that didn’t fit quite right anymore— and despite the fact that Tobio had essentially zero ties with the shirt, he still had this strange feeling in his chest seeing Shouyou wearing it). They also pulled a futon out of the hallway’s closet, setting it up for whenever Shouyou wanted to sleep. 

Truthfully, Shouyou ended up not making it to the futon. He fell asleep right on his notebook, drooling all over the pages, ruining at least fifteen minutes of work. Tobio didn’t notice this until he was about to do the same thing. 

Deciding that it would be best for them to both just sleep, Tobio turned off his desk’s lamp, and then his overhead light, flooding the room in moonlight as opposed to an artificial glow. Shouyou, conveniently, had been placed perfectly beneath the moon’s spotlight, creating a halo around his orange hair that splayed all over the small table. 

It was at that moment that something else bloomed in Tobio’s chest. It was a tight, squeezing feeling, but fluttery all at the same time. It made his face feel warm, his hands itch with the want to touch, and his lips tingle with the want to kiss. It was such a foreign feeling that Tobio stood there, frozen solid for nearly five full minutes, just looking at Shouyou hunched over the table. 

He didn’t know what to call the feeling at the time, and he quite frankly didn’t care. He had other things to do— better things— like studying for his exams, and playing volleyball to the best of his abilities so he could be scouted by V-League teams, and not being in love with Hinata Shouyou. 

So he forgot about that unnamed feeling. He watched Shouyou fly off to Brazil, and he let that feeling fly off with him. 

Tobio didn’t think about that feeling for a long, long time. 

Until now. 

Tobio’s face fell as he felt his chest squeeze and flutter, his face warm, his hands itch, and his lips tingle. The unnamed feeling had crawled its way out of the depths of his heart and broke the surface. 

“Wow,” Natsu comments, “and you managed to not tell him for, like, four whole years?” 

“Impressive,” Sachiko adds. 

A few more moments of Christmas music pass. Everyone continues eating their dinner. All except for Tobio and Shouyou. 

“Tobio,” Shouyou starts, looking up at him, “can I talk to you for a moment?” Shouyou’s cheeks are a shade redder than they usually are. 

Tobio doesn’t trust his voice enough to speak, so he replies with a nod instead. 

He can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on their backs as they leave the table. He can also feel a heavy guilt settle in— a sickly thing that fills him with regret. He’d said what he said to one-up Shouyou and piss off Daiki, but he never considered the consequences of doing so, which, now that he thinks about it, seem to be abundant and not at all worth it. 

Regardless, he follows Shouyou wherever he leads him, which ends up being his bedroom. Tobio doesn’t know if he’s about to be murdered or kissed, and at this point, he honestly doesn’t care which— both would leave him feeling the same way.

“What the fuck was that?” Shouyou starts. 

Oof, f-bomb right off the bat. Tobio’s starting to think that it’s the former. 

“They asked for a story and I gave them one,” Tobio replies defensively, putting his hands up in surrender. 

“Yeah, a story that you made up,” Shouyou says, poking Tobio’s chest with the tip of his finger. “That wasn’t part of the plan,” he hisses.

“But it was convincing, right?” Tobio questions. He’d understand Shouyou’s anger if it was.

“Well, yeah ,” Shouyou answers, “ too convincing. That sounded genuine.” 

Tobio eyes flick to the right before centering back in on Shouyou. “Okay?” 

“You’re a horrible liar, Tobio,” Shouyou says. 

“And?” 

Shouyou huffs, taking a few steps away from him. He takes a couple deep breaths, calming himself, then returning to Tobio, standing directly in front of him— too close for what would be considered just a platonic distance. 

The window in his bedroom is open, letting the moonlight flood in, Tobio notices. It creates a halo around his bright orange hair.  

“That was the truth, wasn’t it?” Shouyou asks in a low voice— like a whisper, but not— almost sultry. “You’ve been in love with me for the past four years.” Shouyou says it like it’s a well-known fact. 

And at this point, maybe it is . 

They’ve been in the same space for a mere eight hours, but over the course of those eight hours, Tobio has gone from regretting every life decision he’s ever made, to being overly affectionate with Shouyou out of spite, to accidentally confessing his repressed love for the guy, to regretting every life decision he’s ever made again. 

Tobio takes in a shuddering breath, intending to speak, but whatever words he wants to stay get stuck in the back of his throat, and instead his slides open Shouyou’s bedroom door and takes off down the hall. 

He regrets doing this. He regrets agreeing and he regrets staying and he should have taken his leave when it was offered to him. He’s insane, Hinata Shouyou has officially driven him insane, and if he doesn’t get some fresh air right now, Kageyama Tobio will actually explode. 

The door to the backyard porch is flung open, then flung shut. The biting, winter air hits Tobio’s skin immediately, cooling his bare hands and socked feet, but doing nothing to cool his burning cheeks. He feels like the world is crumbling around him; snow is falling from the sky and they might as well be ashes from the sky burning. He thinks he’s going to die here, right on the Hinata’s back porch— just fall to the ground in a heap of limbs and lies that he should have told but didn’t because he was petty— add ‘bad decisions’ to that heap, too.

He inhales deeply, the air warming as it passes through them, then exhales and watches his breath float away with the wind. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, curling into himself, trying to warm his hands. 

He feels… minutely better.

Whatever relief he’d been able to provide himself with, though, is rapidly ripped away from him as the door behind him slides open once more. He doesn’t bother turning around to see who it is— he knows the answer anyway. He’d memorized the sound of Shouyou’s footsteps ages ago. 

Shouyou steps around him, leaning against the banister that holds the roof up over the porch, arms crossed as well; he keeps a platonic distance between them this time. 

“I’m sorry,” Shouyou starts, “I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything.” He looks up at Tobio; his gaze is warm. “If you want me to drive you to the train station, I can.” 

He regrets this … kind of— and he should have taken his leave when it was offered to him … 

But that tight, fluttery feeling is still in his chest, and his hands are still itchy, and— for the first time, Tobio isn’t immediately rejecting the feeling. Instead, he lets it bloom— just to see what’ll happen. He knows he’s losing, letting it do that, but he’s tried throwing it out twice before, and neither times have ended well, so maybe, just this once, if he tries to let the feeling grow… 

“No,” Tobio says. “I’ll stay.” 

“Are you sure?” Shouyou asks. A snowflake blows in on the breeze and briefly settles on Shouyou’s cheek before melting away. “I was way out of line with what I said earlier.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Tobio asks, and he says it with the same sincerity as he had when he was rattling off his story— a certain soft lilt to his normally aggressive tone taking over. 

Shouyou looks down, reaching a hand forward, lightly grasping the tips of Tobio’s fingers with his own. Tobio stumbles forward despite never being pulled— drawn into the other. “Not really,” Shouyou mumbles. He peers back up at Tobio, having to tilt his head this time, but his eyes continue to rise above them, widening as they settle on something on the ceiling. 

“What?” Tobio questions, looking up, and Shouyou doesn’t even need to answer as Tobio’s eyes land upon the offending object. 

Mistletoe. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tobio mutters. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” he accuses. Shouyou merely looks up at him with a smug grin, uncrossing Tobio’s arms with his hands so he can hold them properly. 

Shouyou shrugs. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says. Tobio’s eyes flick down to Shouyou’s lips— pulled upwards into that familiar, fond smile. 

What a stupid smile it is. Too easy to fall in love with. 

But Tobio doesn’t want to give Shouyou the satisfaction of getting what he wants just yet, so he opts for a hug instead. 

He thinks it communicates the same message. 

Shouyou squeezes him tight— something that seems to run in the family— rising to the tips of his toes to hook his chin over Tobio’s shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist. Tobio’s own arms are circled around his shoulders, broadened with years of growth, packed with muscle that Tobio can dig his fingers into to ground him— keep tears from forming in his eyes, because that would be embarrassing. 

“I love you,” Shouyou whispers, “and you’re free to take that however you’d like.” 

Tobio squeezes him as tight as he can. “You’re an asshole,” he murmurs into Shouyou’s shoulder. 

Shouyou laughs. 

“Thank you very much for coming,” Shouyou’s mother says, helping Masuyo put on her coat. 

“It was very pleasant meeting you, Tobio,” Masuyo comments, doing up the buttons herself. “Be sure to take good care of my grandson. And if you don’t, I’ll haunt you forever.” The Hinata’s burst out laughing, and Tobio finds himself silently giggling along as well. Daiki continues to grimace and angrily tie the laces of his boots. 

“Yeah, you seem like a cool guy,” Sachiko adds. 

“Um, he is a cool guy,” Natsu interjects. “He’s played in the Olympics before— he’s, like, the number one setter in the whole world.” 

“Again, Natsu, Tobio is not just bragging rights,” Shouyou hisses. Natsu shrugs. 

In the midst of it all, Osuke shuffles up to Shouyou. He tugs at the hem of Shouyou’s flannel, pulling him out from under Tobio’s arm. Shouyou squats down (not much, because he’s short), allowing Osuke to whisper something into his ear. Tobio can’t hear what he’s saying, but he can see Shouyou nodding and smiling— he thinks he even sees a few tears start to form. 

When Shouyou stands up, he ruffles Osuke’s hair and says, “Thank you very much, Osuke. I’ll be sure to tell him.” Osuke, for the first time this entire evening, smiles, and Tobio notes that it’s certainly a Hinata smile. 

With the ‘goodbye’s tossed around about three times over, the members of Shouyou’s extended family leave. 

It’s nearing eleven in the evening. Conversations over the dinner table had gone on far longer than any of them could have anticipated, leaving the cleaning to be done late at night. Shouyou’s mom offers to do it all herself, but Tobio feels bad just thinking about it, so he offers to stay, Shouyou and Natsu joining in. 

Cleaning thankfully only takes about five minutes with all of them at work, and it isn’t long before Shouyou’s mom is sending them off to bed, shooing them away, saying, “Santa won’t come if you’re not asleep.” 

Natsu, Shouyou, and Tobio scuttle off to their respective rooms. Tobio and Shouyou turn away from each other as they change into their pyjamas, and take turns in the bathroom carrying out their nightly routines. 

Once they’re reunited in Shouyou’s bedroom, they begin to tackle the problem that’s been looming in the background throughout the entire night. 

Shouyou’s bed.

It’s been established that they’ll both fit, it’s just a matter of how . 

“So,” Shouyou says, “big spoon or little spoon?” 

Tobio hums. He doesn’t think there’s a right answer here. Both are going to be equally as awkward. 

Wordlessly, Tobio sticks out his fist, looking at Shouyou. Shouyou sticks out his fist in response, returning Tobio’s gaze. They don’t take their eyes off each other as they shake their fists three times— a silent game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. 

Tobio plays rock, Shouyou plays paper. 

“Best two out of three,” Tobio demands. 

Shouyou laughs at him. “Nope! You’re gonna be the little spoon.” Tobio groans and rolls his eyes. 

“Is it too late for you to drive me to the train station?” 

“Yep!” Shouyou chirps. Tobio groans again. 

Reluctantly, he lays down, taking the side of Shouyou’s bed that’s not pressed up against the wall so he doesn’t suffocate and die. Shouyou slides one arm beneath the pillow under Tobio’s head, the other laying limp around his waist— dangerously close to the hem of his shirt. Tobio curls his own arms around himself, keeping them contained to the bed. 

Shouyou is unsurprisingly warm. It's been established that he's the living incarnation of the sun, and Tobio lasts a record three minutes before he’s kicking the sheets over to Shouyou’s side. The front of his body cools down while the back stays warm— if only he’d won that game of Rock, Paper, Scissors . 

Tobio sighs, trying to relax. He knows that if Shouyou falls asleep before him, he won’t get a wink himself— he’s attended enough training camps with the guy to know that he talks in his sleep, and he can handle the senseless murmuring from a distance, but not up close— especially not with Shouyou’s lips ghosting over the nape of his neck. 

Each breath Shouyou takes fans over Tobio’s skin, settling into a steady rhythm that Tobio feels like he should be annoyed by, but finds himself falling into instead. The fronts of Shouyou’s knees press into the backs of Tobio’s— his chest presses against his back, their shoulders press together. 

Tobio doesn’t know what’s dumber— how it took him four years and an awkward family dinner to remember that he’s in love with Hinata Shouyou, or the fact that it took him twenty-three years to realize how touch starved he is. 

After about ten minutes, when the fatigue has finally settled in and the mere thought of opening his eyes is exhausting, Tobio finally relaxes into Shouyou’s arms.

And with the inklings of energy that linger in his body, and the want to no longer have a cold front, Tobio manages to turn himself around and snuggle face-first into Shouyou’s shoulder, tucking himself beneath his chin, tangling his legs together with Shouyou’s, throwing his own arm around his waist. 

He doesn’t expect Shouyou to notice this— expects that he’s long since fallen asleep— but Shouyou proves him wrong as he begins to lightly scratch at Tobio’s back. Tobio, unbidden, lets out a pleased hum, almost like a purr. Shouyou huffs out a laugh, ruffling the hair at the top of Tobio’s head. 

Shouyou’s won a lot today, and while they never officially added points to their tally (because this certainly was not a tallyable event), Tobio doesn’t want to allow the streak to continue. 

So Tobio starts tracing the tips of his fingers over the small of Shouyou’s back, aimless circles and figure-eights, earning himself his own pleased purr from the other. And, always chasing each other like a dog chasing its own tail, Shouyou one-ups Tobio again, slipping his hand up and under Tobio’s shirt, skin on skin. 

And as if that wasn’t enough, Shouyou tilts his head ever so slightly to press a kiss to the crown of Tobio’s head. 

That’s two critical hits. Tobio’s down. 

Unlike Shouyou had the night before, sleep seems to have mercy on Tobio. 

He doesn’t wake up throughout the night, doesn’t have a horrible nightmare that wakes him abruptly and leaves him gasping for air at three in the morning, nor does he have a dream that leaves him feeling emotionally conflicted about his relationships with others. 

No, Tobio had taken care of that yesterday by himself. 

Tobio wakes up on Christmas morning in Shouyou’s arms. This marks the twenty hour mark of being with Shouyou.

If you’d told Tobio twenty hours ago that he’d wake up in Shouyou's arms, willingly, and not want to punch him in the face, he wouldn’t have believed you. Not in the slightest. 

But Tobio wishes he did, because at least that’d be a strong feeling he could grasp onto— anger is a simple feeling, and one he understands well. This other feeling that’s been blooming in his chest since last night, though, is not simple to understand. It’s complex, wound up in vines and flora of all sorts, and there’s no sense attempting to get rid of it as its roots have settled deep in Tobio’s heart, having taken hold more than four years ago. 

There’s another feeling in him somewhere— one that he really only feels when he’s playing volleyball— one that’s simultaneously simple and complex: 

Happy. 

Tobio is happy. 

He’s got Shouyou in his arms— Hinata Shouyou, a friend who loves him endlessly, a friend who will be by his side no matter what, a friend who made a promise eleven years ago and stuck to it, and a friend who promised to never let Tobio go. 

Hinata Shouyou, a friend who is holding onto him so tightly now. 

Tobio’s chest feels tight, but it flutters at the same time, pressed against Shouyou’s. Tobio's hands have since slipped under Shouyou’s shirt as well, fingertips grazing the outline of his spine. And his lips… 

Shouyou stirs, inhaling deeply, squeezing Tobio tightly, then settling with an exhale. “G’mornin,’” he mumbles lazily, voice raspy with a lack of use, rough in the morning light. The sunlight outside must reflect off the snow on the ground; Shouyou’s room feels brighter than usual; a lot of things feel brighter. 

“Good morning,” Tobio replies, voice not rough, but fond . 

Shouyou giggles as if he knows something Tobio doesn’t. 

“What?” Tobio growls, resorting to gruffness as he always does. 

“I win,” Shouyou replies through giggles. Before Tobio can question his claim, Shouyou adds: “You’re in love with me, aren’t you?” 

Tobio retracts himself just enough to look at Shouyou, his smile staining his cheeks pink— Tobio’s not far behind. Tobio’s eyes flick around rapidly. “N-No…” he murmurs, avoiding eye contact. This only seems to make Shouyou laugh more. 

He sighs, collecting himself so he’s clear when he says, “That’s too bad,” voice dropped low that makes Tobio’s stomach swoop with it, “you know, because I was going to kiss you, but if you’re not in love with me, then—” 

Tobio doesn’t let Shouyou finish his sentence. He also doesn’t give Shouyou the satisfaction of a spoken ‘I love you,’ preferring to pour it into the kiss he presses against Shouyou’s lips instead. 

Shouyou inhales deeply through his nose, the hand he has beneath Tobio’s shirt rising until his palm is able to flatten against Tobio’s shoulders, the hand that was trapped beneath the pillow freeing itself to tangle with the messy bed hair at the back of Tobio’s head. Tobio returns the favour by pulling Shouyou closer to him by his waist, his freehand coming up to flatten against his stomach, pleasantly surprised he’s able to feel the definition of Shouyou’s abs beneath his shirt. 

Tobio melts like he wishes the snow never would that night four years ago. 

“And,” Shouyou says, punctuating the word as he rips off the tag containing the name of the person the gift was addressed to, crumpling it in his hand and throwing it on the ground, “Tobio, this is for you.” 

Tobio takes the small, velvet bag into his hand, looking at it for a moment before digging his fingers into the drawstring opening. 

Huh , he thinks, why did he get me a gift?  

He dips three fingers into the bag, pinching the dainty chain contained inside. He pulls out a necklace— a small golden chain with a golden circle in the middle, almost like a ring, accented with little diamonds. 

He knows his expression remains blank, but his heart feels full. 

“Do you like it?” Shouyou asks, saying it as if he’s unsure of the answer— as if he’s afraid of it. 

“Dumbass,” Tobio spits, “of course I like it.” He looks at Shouyou, hoping he can see the affection in his eyes. 

A smile spreads across Shouyou’s face. Tobio hands the necklace to him. 

“Put it on?” Tobio asks, watching Shouyou’s eyes light up, sparkling more than the sun does as it reflects off the snow. 

Tobio bows his head, Shouyou clasping the necklace around his neck, ensuring it’s secure before settling down next to him, leaning against him. From the couch adjacent to them, he hears Natsu ‘ whoop ’ and Shouyou’s mother clap her hands. 

“When did you even get this?” Tobio asks, fingers pinching the chain of the necklace. 

“Like, a week ago,” Shouyou replies. “I was meant to be for Dashi, but if I’m going to be honest, I was only thinking about you when I bought it.” 

Tobio’s chest grows tight again, blooming with warmth. The roots in his heart tug at him, and he’s learned that it’s better to let them pull than it is to try and resist them. 

He places three fingers beneath Shouyou’s chin, holding him just as delicately as he tilts his head up to look at him. Shouyou’s still smiling, and Tobio’s lips curve upwards to match as they kiss. 

He knows that they’re in front of an audience now, but the kiss isn’t just for appearances sake. 

“Woah, wait a minute,” Natsu suddenly says, interrupting the two. Shouyou and Tobio turn to her in unison. “Who the hell is Dashi?”