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Ushijima doesn’t know his way around the kitchen.
It’s the first ― and perhaps silliest ― thing Tendou notices, half an hour into their attempted emergency Valentine’s Day prep. Ushijima, in all his volleyball-tall glory, hair held back by a headband, has absolutely no clue what he’s doing: he stares at the silicone molds as if they’ve just ruined a perfectly good day, brows furrowed, eyes laser-focused. It’s the same expression he wears on court, sometimes, and the thought of having Ushijima Wakatoshi in Tendou’s kitchen, losing a battle against cutlery and chocolate almost drives him to laughter.
A few funny, strange little words turned Tendou’s entire world upside down, and he doesn’t know whether to feel amused or intrigued.
I’d like to request your help, Ushijima said, two days ago, immediately followed by Teach me how to prepare a Valentine’s Day gift. Tendou hadn’t even had the time to consider the implications of that before accepting ― he’s been helping Shiratorizawa’s volleyball club members win over hearts through food for a while, and Ushijima will be no exception. Had it not been for his curiosity and happiness at the thought of one of his closest friends having finally found someone he wants to pursue romantically, Tendou would’ve been a little heartbroken; his crush on his captain is not a recent development, but he’s willing to overlook that if it means seeing him happy.
From then on, that’s been all Tendou can think about. A little silly, he knows, but he thinks it’s warranted, this time.
This is Ushijima, in his kitchen, struggling to make Valentine’s Day chocolate. This is Ushijima, who asked for his help, of everyone else. He may not be a man of many words, but Tendou knows that’s as far of a sign of trust as he can give, and the knowledge settles warmly in his chest.
“You should pick what you think they’ll like.” Tendou points at the chocolate bars he spread out over the table. “I think I picked pretty much everything all we had here, but if you want anything else, we can go to the store, too.”
Ushijima blinks, a little confused, before he looks up at Tendou. He seems as lost as he had been when he first stepped inside the kitchen, if not more.
“I like the milk chocolate, for example.” Tendou offers. “We could start with that and then add a few others? And then you pick your favorites.”
Ushijima’s expression eases into gratitude.
“I’d like that.”
Tendou doesn’t think about it, after. He has no reason to, in truth, nothing that would justify losing sleep over something that has no relation to him. Ushijima asked for help, Tendou delivered ― there’s nothing other than that, nothing that would require his attention any longer.
Tendou tells himself he doesn’t think about it, after ― almost enough for it to work. He wondered about it, once or twice; how it would be like to gift Ushijima something for Valentine’s Day, what Tendou would make for him, if he would appreciate it or try and let him down slowly.
Ushijima is a gentle enough person for that, though he can definitely be too blunt sometimes. Whether Tendou’s feelings were accepted or not, he wouldn’t have been cruel about it.
He still could, it’s true, but he can’t help but think it would be of bad taste.
Whoever it is that will get Ushijima’s homemade goodies, they’re a lucky, lucky valentine.
Tendou thinks about it a lot, not even a week later, when he’s presented with a blood red box of misshapen, heart-like milk chocolate ― the very ones he helped his captain make from scratch, if the colorful tinfoil is anything to go by.
Standing tall in all his post-practice glory, Ushijima looks more collected than he has any right to be. Tendou wonders how long he kept the box in his bag.
“They’re a little melted.” he says, choked up, in lieu of an answer he doesn’t know hot to give.
Ushijima nods, chocolate box still in hands, an open offer Tendou would never dare refuse.
“I didn’t know I had to put them in the fridge.”
If Tendou laughs a little, he knows he can be forgiven. Ushijima’s smile is as sweet as his valentine’s gift, and Tendou thinks he would accept a lifetime of melted chocolate if it meant he gets to see it more often.
(He doesn’t need to, of course. By the third year, Ushijima has enough practice that his heart-shaped gifts only come out a little misshapen.)