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Late. He’s late.
Takeda’s never late.
Keishin pulls out his phone from his pocket. No messages, and Takeda should have been in the gym at least twenty minutes ago.
“Sawamura!” he calls, and the Karasuno captain trots over to him, leaving the first-years squabbling over whose receives are the best. “You seen Takeda?” he asks, but Sawamura shakes his head.
“I’ve seen him, Kochi!” Sugawara pops up at Sawamura’s side—he does that a lot, inserting himself into situations where he hasn’t been asked, but this time, Keishin doesn’t care, not if he knows where Takeda is. “I was heading to practice and I saw him in the office still. He had a stack of papers on the desk next to him. I asked if he was coming, and he said it would be a few minutes, but he’d be along.” Sugawara’s normally jovial face shifted into a frown. “Do you think he got distracted?” Sugawara asks, concern clear in his voice.
“Want me to go find him, Kochi?” Sawamura inquires.
There’s a shout from across the gym, and yup, Hinata and Kageyama are getting into it. Apparently, Kageyama’s receive was flawless, and Hinata must not have liked that very much because he’s tackling Kageyama now, yelling all the while about how he can’t believe Kageyama’s managed to become good at receiving, too! Asahi is supposed to be helping oversee that part of practice, but he’s just looking between the two first-years helplessly, shooting glances in Sawamura’s direction, begging him to please, please, intervene.
“I’ll go,” Keishin decides. “You go break up…” He waves his hand. “Whatever that is over there.”
Sawamura nods. “On it,” he says, and immediately begins shouting at the first years, Sugawara following and piping up here and there. Keishin watches for a moment, then strides out of the gym and down the corridor towards the main part of the school, Takeda the only thought on his mind.
He’s gotten used to Takeda being at his side: during practices and training camps, on the bus, and at games. He’s gotten used to the tiny man beside him with the brilliant mind and the gentle heart. He’s gotten used to Takeda’s warm smile and ever warm brown eyes, which are always watching him from behind those rectangular glasses. He’s gotten used to Takeda’s quiet challenges and insightful observations.
Heck, he’s just gotten used to Takeda, period.
Maybe…even more than used to him.
There was a time when Keishin didn’t think he ever would: when Takeda would show up at the konbini, persistent and persnickety, always asking him to coach the team, Keishin found him cute and endearing, but also a bit annoying. And yet, somehow, he had convinced Keishin to come see the team. And then, when he did actually show up, somehow Takeda convinced him of the players’ talent, of their tenacity, of their courage and their heart.
Keishin isn’t someone who likes tenacity; not off the volleyball court, anyway. He usually likes to be left alone, to make his own decisions and live his own life, free from the persistence of others. And yet, here is this tenacious, persistent man, who just couldn’t leave Keishin be.
It should have annoyed Keishin. And, for a while, it did.
But then, somehow, almost without Keishin realizing it, something between them changed. Takeda stopped being the annoying sensei who wanted to find a coach for his team, and started becoming something…more. They’ve gone from sharing coaching duties, to sharing beers and karaage after a practice, to sharing dinners at training camp, to sharing stories and secrets Keishin never thought he’d share with anyone else.
Somehow, in a short span of time, Takeda’s gone from being an annoyance…
To being an irreplaceable part of Keishin’s life.
And Keishin knows that Takeda’s not just an important part of his life, but of the lives of their players as well. He’s the anchor that holds the team together: without him, there would be no Karasuno Volleyball Club, and there would be no Ukai Keishin, Assistant Coach.
There would only be Ukai Keishin, konbini owner.
And while Keishin doesn’t mind the latter title, it’s the former one that he’s much, much more proud of. He has Takeda to thank for that.
He has Takeda to thank for…so much, really. It’s impossible to think of a day without the head coach of the team—their team, really—by his side.
Their team.
The phrasing hits him hard. Keishin jolts to a stop in the middle of the hallways. His heart’s pounding, and he’s nearly gasping for air, and whoops, he definitely just got some weird looks from a couple of students walking by.
Why? Why is he suddenly clutching his chest at the thought of the team being theirs, of Takeda not being at his side for one measly little practice?
Keishin knows why.
It’s the thought that’s been hovering at the back of his mind, ever since the first training camp with Nekomata, Fukurōdani, Ubugawa, and Shinzen. Ever since they shared a meal and had a little too much to drink, when Keishin had noticed how cute Takeda is when he’s tipsy: flushed cheeks, wide eyes, affectionate smile, and very complimentary towards Keishin.
Ever since then, Keishin has noticed how cute Takeda is, all the time: in his little green athletic jacket, which he wears to be “sporty,” even when he’s got the standard white shirt and black tie that he wears to school every day. In his glasses, which frame his eyes perfectly and make them just a tiny bit wider.
He can never say it, though: he can never tell Takeda that he thinks the man is cute, a word reserved for children and maybe a few dogs. He can’t say it, even though he thinks it, whenever he looks over at Takeda during practices…
And, maybe, even when he’s working the late shift at the konbini and it’s slow, and warm brown eyes make their way into his mind.
But as he treks down the corridors, in search of that damn teachers’ office, he can’t help but think of all the times he’s had these thoughts of Takeda, as if the notion of him no longer being there has brought all of this to the surface.
He’s so distracted by his thoughts that he gets lost a few times. But a few grunted words to a conscientious student carrying way too many boxes has him going right again, and he arrives at the office in a surprisingly short amount of time. When he gets to the door, he pushes it open and stops, mouth open, at the sight before him.
Takeda’s there, just like Sugawara said he was. He has a stack of papers on the desk next to him, also like Sugawara said. However…
“Sensei!” Keishin calls, crossing the room in just a few steps. Takeda’s bent over at his desk, head resting on his hands, and he’s face-down. A panic rises in Keishin’s chest, and he places a hand on Takeda’s shoulder. “Sensei?” he says again, softer this time, and when Takeda doesn’t move, Keishin shakes his shoulder, gently.
A low groan and a full body tremble cause Keishin to relax, but only for a moment, because when Takeda lifts his head, Keishin can see that his eyes are glassy, his face is flushed, and no, it’s not from alcohol.
It’s because Takeda is sick.
“O—oh,” he murmurs, eyes not quite taking in Keishin’s surprised response. “U—Ukai-kun, it’s you.” He shivers then, sitting upright, eyes widening as he finally seems to see Keishin standing there. “U—Ukai-kun!” he all but shouts, scrambling about his desk. The papers that were stacked go flying, and Takeda lets out a low wail. “I—I don’t know what happened!” he exclaims, wringing his hands. “I’m so sorry! I just need a few minutes, and I’ll be able to—”
He’s stopped by the press of Keishin’s hand against his forehead: the glassy eyes, the flushed cheeks, the lack of comprehension?
Yeah, his forehead’s warm. Burning up, actually, if Keishin were to compare it to his own forehead.
Shit.
“You’re sick, Ittetsu,” Keishin scolds; he’s so caught up in the heat of Takeda’s skin against his palm that he doesn’t quite notice he’s using Takeda’s given name. All he can think about is hot, very hot, very sick, must take care of him NOW. “Why did you even come in today? You’ve got a fever!” He frowns, and Takeda blushes and shrinks back in his seat a bit.
“Ahhh, well?” Takeda rubs at his face. “I had to give an exam to the third years, and since they’re preparing for entrance exams, I couldn’t not give the exam, right? And then the Vice-Principal had asked me to sit in on a committee meeting for a new counseling program the school is thinking of starting, and I couldn’t not come to that, since I know that he values my opinion. And then Iwamura-sensei asked me to fill in for her class today while she went to a doctor’s appointment, and I couldn’t let her down! And we have practice, and…” He stops. “Practice,” he repeats dumbly. “We…have practice.” He looks up at Keishin, eyes now watery, and Keishin’s heart definitely skips a beat. “I’m so sorry!” he shouts. “I took you away from practice! You had to leave to come and find me! Are the students okay? Are they worried? Did they…”
“Sawamura’s keeping the first-years in line,” Keishin answers, “and Sugawara told me where to find you.”
Takeda lets out a shaky sigh. “Oh,” he says, “then we should get going and…” He pushes himself up, tries to stand, and is so weak that his legs wobble and he begins to topple forward. Keishin reacts on instinct, lunging forward and catching him; Takeda looks up into his eyes, and he’s so cute and blushy and sick that he can’t…
“I’m sorry for being a burden, Ukai-kun,” Takeda murmurs. His hands grip Keishin’s biceps, and he has to bite back a thick swallow. It’s the most that they’ve ever touched, and despite the circumstances, Keishin can’t help but feel a shiver at how good it feels to have Takeda’s hands on him, how warm they are, even if it is indicative of his fever.
“You—you’re never a burden, Sensei,” Keishin responds, and the relieved smile on Takeda’s face is worth the trip to find him, worth the worry, worth the catching when he falls.
“I’m glad,” Takeda says; he goes to push away from Keishin, to stand on his own, but he can’t, and down he starts to go again, slipping right through Keishin’s arms and towards the floor.
“Shit!” Keishin acts on instinct; he scoops Takeda up into his arms, bridal-style. The man is light, so light, and Keishin has to fight back images of other possible moments he might have Takeda in his arms: the heated moment before a first kiss, the gentle laying of bodies on a bed, the tender caresses as hands explore for the first time.
Right now, though, he can’t think of any of those things.
Because his head coach is sick, and it’s up to Keishin to take care of him.
“U—Ukai-kun,” Takeda whispers; his hand circles up and grips the collar of Keishin’s shirt. “You—don’t have to hold me like—I’m okay—really—”
“Like hell you are,” Keishin retorts. “How long have you been feeling this way, Ittetsu?”
“Oh,” Takeda mumbles, turning his face into Keishin’s neck, “maybe three or four days.”
“Three or four days?” Keishin can’t believe it. Takeda’s been feeling sick for that long and hasn’t stopped to rest? “No wonder you’re near collapse, you idiot.” He adjusts Takeda in his arms, holding him a little bit closer. “Come on,” he says, “I’m taking you home.”
Takeda shakes his head vigorously against Keishin’s throat. “I can’t,” he insists, “we have practice.”
“Sawamura and Sugawara can handle practice for one afternoon,” Keishin decides. “You need rest. And medicine. I’m taking you where you can get both.”
“U—Kei-kun,” Takeda murmurs, and Keishin’s heart pounds at the way Takeda’s calling him something so intimate. It’s the fever, he knows, but for a fleeting moment, he can’t help but wish that it was real.
Instead, he clears his throat. “None of that now,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically raspy. “Let’s just get you home.”
“W—wait!” Takeda exclaims. He squirms in Keishin’s arms, but Keishin holds him fast. “There—in my top desk drawer,” he says. “Left side.”
Keishin looks down at the desk. He’s going to have to hold Takeda with one arm to reach, but Takeda’s light, and Keishin’s able to nestle him close while he pulls open the drawer. “The mask,” Takeda says, “so you don’t get sick. For me.”
“Got it.” Keishin grabs the mask, hands it to Takeda, who slides it on while Keishin closes the desk drawer.
“My papers, too, Kei-kun,” Takeda murmurs, and fuck, that plaintive calling of Keishin by that name just…
“You’re not doing any grading tonight, Ittetsu,” Keishin lectures. “Any paperwork can wait until tomorrow.”
“Mmm.” Takeda’s already resting his cheek against Keishin’s shoulder again, and it takes all of Keishin’s self-control to not bury his face in those messy, dark curls and kiss them softly. Instead, he grits his teeth, and, holding Takeda close, strides out of the office and into the hallway.
His steps are strong and purposeful; he’s got precious cargo in his arms, and he doesn’t want to waste another second when Takeda’s health is at stake. He walks out of the school, down the outside corridor, and past the gym in the direction of home. He catches a glimpse of the team gathering at the gym doors; he hears Hinata call out “Oh, Takeda-sensei, are you—” followed by a series of shouts that sound like Kageyama, then by Hinata’s muffled cries, which can only mean someone has tried to get Hinata to be quiet.
He can’t stop and reprimand them, though. He’s got too much on his mind; Takeda’s breathing is a little bit reedy, and it’s worrying Keishin more than the heat of Takeda’s cheek against his throat. He needs to get him home, and safe, and he needs to get that fever to break…fast.
After all, Takeda’s clearly incapable or unwilling to take care of himself in the way that he should—in the way that he deserves to be taken care of!
So, really, he’s left Keishin with one option, and one only.
If Takeda’s not okay—if he’s not beside Keishin at practice soon, smiling that gentle, warm smile, stealing soft glances when he thinks Keishin’s not looking, well?
Keishin doesn’t know what he will do…
Except take matters into his own hands.
Ittetsu opens his eyes; the room is dark, but whatever he’s lying on is soft, so soft, he can’t help but groan and snuggle into the pillow more tightly. He’s under several blankets, he can tell, yet he doesn’t feel terribly warm? Wait, yes he does. He’s warm. No, he’s cold. He’s shivering. Wait, warm again. Nope, cold…
Ittetsu slides a hand over his face, and realizes he’s not wearing his glasses, but there’s something cool and comforting against his forehead. A…it’s a washcloth, he thinks?
Odd.
Where…where is he? What has happened?
He closes his eyes; everything’s a little bit swimmy, and it’s making it hard for Ittetsu to concentrate. Without his glasses, when he opens his eyes again, everything feels a bit loose and out of focus. His head is aching something terribly, and his throat feels a little bit dry? What on earth could be wrong?
Flashes of memories: the stack of papers. How tired he felt. Just a few minutes of rest was all he needed.
A voice, calling out “Sensei.” Ittetsu trying to get to his feet, and failing.
A pair of strong arms catching him, lifting him, holding him…
Ittetsu gasps. Oh, no.
No, no, no, no, NO.
It—it can’t be—
Was it Ukai who found him, who took him somewhere to be safe?
Oh, what if it was? This is so embarrassing! Ittetsu can’t believe he was this careless. He’s always so good about taking care of himself, about resting when he’s tired, and taking medicine when he’s sick! There has been a lot going on at school, though…maybe he just got too occupied and forgot to look after himself?
And now, he’s…what? In a bed? A strange bed?
Ukai’s bed?
If that’s true, then it’s worse than Ittetsu thought it could be.
How can he be in Ukai’s room, in his bed? How could he have allowed this to happen!?!?
This is definitely not how he imagined his first time in Ukai’s bed would be!
Ittetsu’s been so careful, so patient. He’s never let on any feelings for Ukai other than friendship, collegiality, admiration perhaps? He’s never let on that he might find Ukai devastatingly handsome, nor that he longs to be able to grip those glorious biceps and never let go. He’s never let on that he feels anything more for Ukai—except for that one time he got a little too drunk at training camp and begged Ukai to quit smoking, since Ittetsu much prefers his “natural scent.”
(Ukai didn’t quit, but he’s cut down significantly, and for that, Ittetsu is grateful, if only because he can stand beside Ukai at practice and enjoy his natural, woodsy scent, instead of cringing at the smoky smell.)
But, yes. This is too much. Being in Ukai’s bed is too much. Ittetsu can feel the embarrassment coming over him, a wave of fear and regret. He needs to get up. He needs to get out of here. He needs to do all of this now. He needs…
There’s a door opening, and Ittetsu jumps, shaking the entire bed.
“Oh,” says a familiar voice—much too familiar if you ask Ittetsu. “I see you’re awake.”
“U—Ukai-kun,” Ittetsu croaks—his voice is cracking, what even is that? “You—what—” He tries to reach for his glasses, to sit up, but a large, gentle hand presses his shoulder—and Ittetsu, by extension—back to the mattress.
“You’re running a fever, Sensei,” Ukai says gruffly; Ittetsu blinks, and Ukai slowly comes into as much focus as Ittetsu’s eyes will allow. He’s all fuzzy around the edges, like he’s not quite there, but that hand on his shoulder is very heavy, very large, and very, very real. Ukai releases Ittetsu’s shoulder and settles on the edge of the bed; Ittetsu can see that he’s wearing a mask, and that, in his lap, he’s carrying a tray with a glass of water, a mug of something steaming, and several bottles and other items that stacked such that, since Ittetsu isn’t wearing his glasses, he can’t quite tell what they are.
“We’re—this is your place?” Ittetsu manages to rasp, and Ukai nods.
“You were passed out pretty hard,” he answers, balancing the tray on his thighs as he runs a hand through his own hair. “I realized I couldn’t take you to your place, even if I wanted to, because it meant I’d have to ask you where it was, for the key, etc. I live above the konbini, so it made more sense for me to bring you here.” He shrugs. “Free medicine and all.”
“Free—” A new wave of horror washes over Ittetsu, and he tries to sit up yet again, and Ukai gently pushes him back down again. “Ukai-kun,” Ittetsu says, “I can’t stay. Th—thank you for your kindness, but I really can’t—”
“You’re being silly, Sensei,” Ukai replies; he takes the washcloth off Ittetsu’s forehead and replaces it with a new, fresh one. His skin burns against the cool cloth, and he sighs as he allows his body to give into the chill. “I took your temperature after I got you settled. It’s 39, Sensei. I managed to get some fever reducer in you, but you still feel pretty damn warm. I think it’s best for you to rest here tonight.”
“Oh, I couldn’t!” Ittetsu protests.
“You can,” Ukai insists, “and you’re going to. And no school tomorrow,” he adds. “I already called the vice-principal and spoke to him. You’re not going back until you have a normal temperature.”
Panic grips Ittetsu’s heart. “Ukai-kun,” he says immediately, “I can’t stay home from school! There’s so much to do! I need to grade those papers, and help the third-years study for their entrance exams, and…”
Ukai covers Ittetsu’s mouth with a mask. “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” he admonishes. “You’ll stay here, in this bed, until you’re not running a fever. What’s that old saying? A samurai pretends to hold a toothpick between his teeth even when hungry.”
“What?” Ittetsu blinks. “What are you—”
Ukai huffs, and Ittetsu thinks he might be smiling. “You’re too proud to ask for help, Sensei,” he says quietly. “You shouldn’t feel like you have to suffer for your students or for the club. We need you healthy, Sensei, and when you’re not…” Ukai trails off, his words hanging in the air. So much feels unsaid, feels like it has been left, lingering between them. The atmosphere is charged, the sense of something more filling Ittetsu with a sense of both anticipation and trepidation as to what the more might be.
Ittetsu tries to diffuse things, to bring the atmosphere back to an even balance. He rolls onto his side and reaches onto the nightstand beside the bed. His glasses are there, as is his mask, so Ittetsu puts both on and now Ukai comes into focus, so Ittetsu can see this wonderful man more clearly.
His bleached blond hair is pulled back with his signature hairband; there aren’t any earrings in his ears, which tells Ittetsu that he must have carried Ittetsu right from the school here, and has been taking care of him ever since. His face beneath the mask is pale and wan, his brow furrowed with concern.
That’s when Ittetsu realizes: he’s been hearing the words, but seeing Ukai’s concern etched so clearly on his face strikes Ittetsu hard. His heart clenches, and his mind races.
Ukai is worried about him. Ukai carried him out of the school. Ukai put Ittetsu in his own bed, and is refusing to let Ittetsu leave until he’s healthy.
Ukai is…
“Ukai-kun,” Ittetsu says softly, “are you planning to take care of me until I feel better?”
He can see the way that Ukai’s cheeks turn crimson, even under the mask. “You—you can’t go home with a fever,” he answers, body stiff and voice stubborn. “You have to rest and drink plenty of fluids and you need someone to look after you.”
Ittetsu’s heart warms. There’s an inkling of something there, a catch in Ukai’s voice, a hitch of his breath, a softening of his eyes…
Ittetsu might be feverish, but he’s pretty sure that Ukai wants him to stay, for reasons more than just Ittetsu being sick and needing care.
He decides to take a chance.
“Is that the only reason you want me to stay, Ukai-kun?” Ittetsu asks. “Because someone needs to look after me?” He pauses; Ukai’s staring at him, eyes wide. Ittetsu pushes forward. “By that argument,” he adds lightly, and more than a little light-headed, “then anyone would be qualified for that job.”
“But they’re not,” Ukai says in a rush, and Ittetsu has to giggle at how passionate he sounds. “No one else can take care of you, Sensei.”
“And why is that, Ukai-kun?” Ittetsu can’t help but want to know.
“Because I want to be the one to take care of you!” Ukai shoots back.
“But why?” Ittetsu presses, insistent.
“Because I care about you!” Ukai exclaims, the tea on the tray sloshing as he leans forward and all but shouts the words.
They hang in space, suspended in the moment, Ukai leaning in and Ittetsu too stunned to lean back. Instead, all he can do is search Ukai’s brown eyes for any sign: that Ukai is sincere, that’s he’s lying, that he’s totally unaware of what he just said. But Ukai’s hovering, closing in, one centimeter at a time. His eyes are searching Ittetsu’s, looking for an answer that, if Ittetsu were to let him, Ukai would definitely find.
“You—care about—me?” Ittetsu answers softly.
“Of course!” Ukai is now talking very loudly, and Ittetsu hopes that no one on the first story of the building can hear him. “How could I not?” Ukai picks up the tray and sets it on the ground, then gets to his feet. “You wanted me to coach the Karasuno team,” he begins. “And when I didn’t want to do it, you pursued me and cajoled me and coaxed me into that gym—where you knew that, once I got through the doors, I wouldn’t ever want to leave.”
“Is that so?” Ittetsu says, amused at how right Ukai is, even though he’s never said anything even close to what Ukai is rambling about now.
“You know that it is,” Ukai retorts, “just like you knew that once I walked through those doors, I wasn’t going anywhere.”
“I only knew that your grandfather had been a great coach,” Ittetsu says honestly, “and that maybe you might be just as talented as him.”
“The team is talented, Sensei,” Ukai says, oblivious to how Ittetsu smiles at him. “I know it hasn’t been that long, but working with you these past few months…” He sighs. “They’re some of the best times that I’ve had in volleyball ever. ” He sits back down, scooting closer to Ittetsu, who—whether it’s instinct, or stupidity, or some combination of the two—takes a chance and wraps one of Ukai’s hands in both of his.
His heart is pounding; he can feel how clammy his hands are, wrapped around Ukai’s. Ukai’s hand is rough, his knuckles scraped and calloused, but it’s solid and warm, grounding under Ittetsu’s shaky touch. Ukai curls his hand, and Ittetsu covers it, squeezing gently, thumbs running over the scabs on the knuckles. He’s struck by the enormity of it all: of this man, who is caring for him, who cares for him, and who is looking at him now, soft and fond and gentle.
It makes Ittetsu’s heart feel ready to burst.
“I’m glad they are,” Ittetsu says truthfully, because it’s easy to be honest with a sexy man leaning in so close that, should he get any closer…
“You—you are?” Ukai gazes down at him, and Ittetsu feels a rush of adrenaline as the realization settles on him that no, this was not a regular occurrence, and yes, Ittetsu does, in fact, wants more.
“I am,” Ittetsu says, and leans forward, his eyes fixed on Ukai’s mouth, clear even though the mask. “I’m glad that you’ve had fun, that the team has come to mean so much to you, and…” He giggles a little, giddy from the fever and Ukai’s proximity and the warmth of his hand. “That I was right.”
Ukai’s eyes widen, and Ittetsu can see his mouth settling into a smirk. “That’s why you’re glad?” he teases. “Because you were right?”
“I—I mean,” Ittettsu says quickly, “that’s not the only reason, of course, but…”
“But what?” The atmosphere in the room shifts again, to something charged and unsure. Ukai’s eyes are sparkling.
“But…” Ittetsu pauses, takes a breath. “The main reason…” he says, “is more than that.”
Ukai freezes, his eyes searching Ittetsu’s, behind his glasses, and despite the mask. He’s searching, Ittetsu knows—but for what, and why, he’s not entirely sure.
“What more could there be?” Ukai whispers,
Ittetsu flushes; he squeezes Ukai’s hand, which is nearly in his lap. “I’m glad,” he whispers back, “because it has meant that I’ve gotten to spend nearly every waking moment from the last six months with you.”
Ukai’s eyes soften. “Sensei,” he says.
“Ittetsu,” Ittetsu corrects him.
“Ittetsu,” Ukai says immediately, “you really mean that? Spending time with me the last few months…”
“Has been both a privilege and a joy,” Itettsu declares firmly, but unable to keep the softness from his tone. “And not one that I would ever want to forget.”
Ukai slides his hand from both of Ittetsu’s, and gently raises it up the height of Ittetsu’s seated form. He cups Ittetsu’s cheek, calloused skin against the mask, and cradles it. His hand is warm, even through the nylon. “Nor would I,” he replies, and his voice is so fond, Ittetsu has to smile and hold onto Ukai’s wrist with his free hand.
They pause, right there, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. And even though Ukai’s eye color is close to Ittetsu’s, there’s a brightness that turns them nearly gold. It’s one that Ittetsu hardly recognizes, one that fills the room—and Ittetsu’s heart—with so much joy.
“I—I know you’re sick,” Ukai begins, somewhat awkwardly, “but if it’s not too much, I’d really like to kiss you right about now.”
“We shouldn’t,” Ittetsu agrees, somewhat hazily, though, given how handsome Ukai is and how he is looking at Ittetsu with such warmth and adoration. His voice drops. “But,” he adds quietly, “we are wearing masks, after all.”
“Y—yeah,” agrees Ukai, “so we are.”
And, just like that, he pulls Ittetsu in for a soft, loving, kiss.
It’s quick, and chaste; due to the nature of the situation. But Ukai lets his mouth linger for a moment over Ittetsu’s, and Ittetsu sighs against their masks at how tender and gentle the kiss is. His hand involuntarily clutches around Ukai’s, but Ukai just chuckles, then pulls Ittetsu back into one more tender kiss.
“I can’t wait,” Ukai whispers as they break apart, “to do that for real, without any obstacles.”
Ittetsu hums. “Me either,” he agrees. He yawns. “But for now,” he says, “maybe we can put things on a temporary hiatus, until I feel better?”
Ukai presses a kiss to Ittetsu’s forehead; his lips are warm, even though the mask, and Ittetsu swoons, just a little bit.
“No hiatus,” Ukai tells him. “You’re gonna stay right here, and I’m gonna take care of you, until you’re healthy. And then…”
His eyes darken. “We get to do that again, and more…sans mask.”
Ittetsu gives a little shiver, but he smiles. “I’d like that,” he tells Ukai, and lays himself back down. Ukai tucks him in, kisses his forehead once more, then cups his cheek.
“Good,” he answers. “So would I.”
Ukai pulls away, Ittetsu already missing his warmth. Ukai chuckles. “Sleep,” he says, “and when you wake up, I’ll have some hot soup and tea, and more of this…” He blows a kiss, chuckles, and leaves the room, Ittetsu watching the door close behind him.
Ukai brought me home, Ittetsu thinks sleepily. He slides off his glasses and the mask and rolls onto his side. Ukai brought me home. Ukai—Keishin…
Keishin’s taking care of me.
Keishin has feelings for me.
Keishin kissed me.
As Ittetsu drops off to sleep, the only things on his mind are the spark in Keishin’s eyes as he leaned in, the feel of Keishin’s lips against his own, and the sexy rasp of Keishin’s voice as he said, “So would I.”
Yes, Ittestu thinks, sliding slowly into sleep, so would I.
Epilogue
“I can’t believe Kochi hasn’t come back yet,” Noya says worriedly. “Do you think he got lost in the school?”
“Ahh, Ukai-kochi getting lost?!” Hinata exclaims. “What if he fell into one of the furnaces in the basement? What if the Vice-Principal got him and locked him up? What if…”
“Those are not reasonable ‘what ifs,’ Hinata,” Daichi scolds him. He checks the time on his phone. “It has been awhile,” he says to Shimizu, Suga, and Asahi, dropping his voice. “Do you think we should go and look for him?”
Suga frowns; Daichi wishes he could figure out what his vice-captain is thinking. “It has been awhile,” he answers thoughtfully. “And he was supposed to come back with Takeda-sensei, but neither of them have shown up.” His eyes light up slowly. “Neither of them have shown up,” he repeats, eyeing Daichi, Shimizu, and Asahi in turn. “Do you think that means that—”
“Maybe we should go and look for them!” Daichi says loudly, hoping that he can halt whatever’s on Suga’s mind. Which, if he were to guess based on the gleam in Suga’s eyes, is nothing good.
“We should!” Tanaka agrees. “We’ve already missed so much practice just trying to figure out what to do!”
“Come on,” Noya says, grabbing Tanaka by the wrist and pulling him out of the gym. “Suga said that Sensei was in the teachers’ office! Let’s go see if they’re there!”
The rest of the team shouts their agreement, and Daichi sighs and rubs at his face. When he looks up again, Suga’s grinning at him.
“Come on, Daichi,” he says, “don’t be such a sourpuss! Let’s go find our coaches and see just what could possibly be keeping them from getting back to practice!”
Daichi sighs again, but follows Suga out the door. Hinata and Kageyama are bickering about which way to go, while Noya and Tanaka are now pulling poor Yacchan in the direction of the corridor that leads to the main part of the school. There’s a sudden crash that draws their attention; it’s the school door. Something—or someone —has kicked it open, and they all jump, surprised, as a tall, imposing figure fills the doorway.
“K—kochi?!” Asahi whispers, and the whole team stops, and stares, as Ukai strides past them, carrying a sleeping Takeda-sensei in his arms.
“Oh, Takeda-sensei, are you—” Hinata exclaims; Yamaguchi elbows him hard, Kageyama shouts “Not now, boke!”, but Ennoshita’s finally the one who covers his mouth as Tsukishima snickers.
The whole team falls into silence, enraptured by the sight of their coach carrying their faculty advisor, and by the way that Ukai cradles him so tenderly.
“What—what the—” Daichi mutters.
Suga snickers. “Had a feeling it was something like this,” he says. Daichi hears the rustle of money as Tanaka utters, “Pay up,” and Noya heaves a sigh and hands Tanaka a fistful of bills.
“Hey!” Daichi snaps, grabbing the money before Tanaka can take it. “You can’t gamble on our coaches’ love lives!”
Suga sniggers. “I think you mean, love life,” he corrects. Daichi grimaces, but he can’t challenge Suga when he just saw the same thing himself.
“Come on, Karasuno,” Daichi chirps, clapping his hands together sharply, “let’s go practice dives.” There’s a collective groan that rises among his team, but he really doesn’t care. “And we’re going to keep practicing them,” he lectures, ushering the team towards the doors, “until you all learn to mind your own business.”
The team groans louder, but they trudge back into the gym. Daichi goes to follow, but Suga stops him.
“You know,” he says, his eyes twinkling, “we’re going to be doing dives for the rest of today’s practice, and maybe tomorrow’s too.”
Daichi grins. “I know,” he answers, his eyes twinkling right back. “And maybe the next day, too.”