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Tangled limbs, fingers gently gliding through orange locks, arms wrapped tightly around a waist or thrown loosely across a chest — the ways in which Kageyama and Hinata fall asleep have taken many different configurations over the years, but the basis is always the same. A desire — no, a need — to be close to the other, to feel their presence next to, under, in front of — anywhere, as long as it's there.
It's been this way since high school, since their first sleepover together — Kageyama's first one, ever. Like most things in their relationship, it had happened wordlessly, and without either realizing. A futile last-minute study session — doomed from the moment it was even suggested by Hinata — to take place at Kageyama's house, by far the quieter of the two. To their credit, the pair had managed to work through two entire practice questions before deciding on watching a volleyball highlight compilation as a brain break. One compilation became another, and then another, and then a full game that Kageyama had seen just a few days prior and recommended, and then that reminded Hinata of another game, too.
Kageyama doesn't remember falling asleep that night, but he does remember the stiffness in his neck from the hours it spent resting against his bedroom floor, the numbness in his right arm as it lay trapped beneath something much warmer than his heaviest blankets could afford, and the way Hinata's shoulder blades flexed and moved beneath his cotton shirt as he stirred and stretched awake. Despite the pain that lingered in his neck the entire day, despite the tiredness that made his muscles sluggish from the lack of proper rest, Kageyama finally felt like he understood the appeal of sleepovers.
He thinks about that night, now; after years of falling asleep together changed from childhood bedrooms to small apartments in big cities or foreign countries to here: their assigned flat in the Olympic Village, on the eve of their first match of the games.
Like always, they're nestled together, taking up far less space than the two single beds pushed together offered. For late July, the evenings in Paris are mild, which Kageyama is thankful for. Hinata has always been the type to run hot; a blessing during frigid winter nights but quite the opposite when temperatures rise. He's reminded, briefly, of his most recent visit to Brazil, when even the open windows and floor fan whirring endlessly did nothing to abate the stifling heat. They'd done away with a blanket altogether, but even with his shoulders sporting the markings of a fresh sunburn that emanated its own incessant warmth, Kageyama fell into a deep, comfortable sleep with the weight Hinata's head against his chest and his arms wrapped around golden skin.
It's quiet, here. A far cry from the first night they'd arrived in the Village, when the excitement that came with representing your home country on the international stage manifested in cheers and parades down the hallways and music blaring for hours. Kageyama is grateful for the quiet. He can't call it silence, because it isn't — not with the soft, steady breathing from Hinata that grew deeper with each circle the setter's finger traced into his scalp.
This exact motion — the rising and falling of Hinata's back, the warm puffs of air that ghost across his chest — will eventually lull Kageyama into his own sleep. For now, as he is most nights, he is content with guiding the other to sleep first, with lithe fingers scratching lightly and the rhythmic beat of his heart as his aids.
"Tobio..." Hinata's voice came as a surprise to Kageyama, especially when it lacked the sluggish, hazy undertones it should for someone on the verge of sleep. Instead, it was clear, heavy with a question waiting to be asked. Kageyama responded with a low, inquisitive hum, beckoning the other to continue.
"... Do you remember your birthday — in our second year?"
Kageyama paused, and so did his fingers, tips coming to a halt against the skin of Hinata's scalp. His eyebrows furrowed together, visage twisting into a look of deep contemplation, as memories from that December day surface in his mind.
The images are blurry with the passage of time, but he can remember pieces. A nose — bright red from the chill in the air and matching the fiery orange locks tucked into a knit cap. A present given to him as they walked around an empty park — homemade cookies in various shapes and forms. Some, obviously, were meant to be volleyballs; but it wasn't until Kageyama's features pulled into a confused expression that Hinata picked an oddly ovular shaped one and explained, brightly, with one word: Cookieyama!
"Uh... mostly, yes," came Kageyama's response, because now his mind could only focus on the cookie, decorated with icing that had been applied before it cooled properly, leaving a messy mixture of black blobs and blue dots.
Hinata shifted, twisting slightly in Kageyama's grip and folding his hands on the setter's chest, where his head had been, and resting his chin atop them. At the movement, Kageyama's gaze lowered, finding Hinata's fixated directly on him. He found something soft reflected within those wide, brown eyes, his lips curled into a small, faint smile.
There's silence, for a moment, as Hinata continues to look up at Kageyama. Then, in a honeyed voice so gentle and warm, he goes on.
"That was the first time you told me you wanted to play in the Olympics."
Another pause. The sentiment, itself, isn't surprising — Kageyama's motivation to continue playing volleyball for as long as he could naturally went hand in hand with playing in the Games. He's caught off guard more by the the fact that Hinata had remembered such a moment, one that clearly had slipped his mind entirely.
"... it was?"
"Mhmm!" Hinata answered, and when the moonlight catches in the pools of his eyes, Kageyama swears he can see stars within them. "When we went back to my house — when it started snowing? — my mom was watching an interview with one of the athletes going to the Winter Olympics that year, and you said you wanted to go to the Olympics one day, too — at least once."
Slowly, Kageyama's recollection of that day began to broaden. He began to remember the events as Hinata described them, though the details are still hidden behind a thick fog. The sudden falling of snow that had surprised the two of them, the impromptu race back to the Hinata home, the two mugs of hot chocolate that warmed their hands. That moment — the one Hinata had brought up — was still lost to the trenches of time.
"...Oh." is all he can manage, because he can't remember enough to say otherwise.
"And now you're here. For your third time." Hinata pointed out, and Kageyama could tell there was something else he was building up to, something he was waiting for the setter to piece together on his own, based on the way his sentences became shorter and disjointed.
But — again, Kageyama's mind draws a blank, though for a different reason. He knows he's here, for the third time, just as Hinata said. He understands the significance of it; and he's excited beyond measure at being able to play for the national team again.
As for why Hinata is mentioning it, in particular, he still can't figure it out.
"...Right. So.."
"So — I'm proud of you!" The outburst isn't exactly a yell, but Hinata says the statement with a vigor and confidence that still strikes Kageyama's core and his breath catches in his throat all the same. The words linger in the air for only a second before Hinata is rambling, his head lifted up with the energy of his words.
"I always knew you were amazing, even back then, so when you said that to me, I thought 'well, of course he'll be able to' because you are really talented but even more than that, you always worked so hard — I know, because I was there, and saw it all — "
Hinata paused there, briefly, while he took in a deep breath so he could continue. Kageyama listened, as he always does, but his mind still lingered on the first words he'd spoken, the ones that started this entire train of thought. Proud. Hinata was proud of him.
" — But all that also only made me want to work harder so I could do it with you, too. And, now, I can, for the second time. The first time was amazing enough, but now we get to do it again, and —"
"I'm proud of you."
Kageyama's interruption surprised Hinata, evident in the way he still managed to speak the next syllable his mouth was forming, but then his features went completely blank as his mind overcame the disconnect and he tried to process what his ears heard.
"we — What?"
"I'm proud of you." Kageyama repeated, because he realized a little too late why when Hinata had said them, he couldn't let the words go.
It's not that Kageyama thinks he hasn't done anything deserving of pride. It's not that Kageyama isn't proud of himself, either. It's hearing those words, spoken from someone else, that he isn't quite used to. And, what's more — Hinata isn't just someone else.
Hinata is... Hinata. He has been Kageyama's opponent, teammate, friend, partner, rival The first person to ask for Kageyama's sets, to want them, even if it took some time for Kageyama to adjust them correctly. Nothing was too much for Hinata — not his harsh words when his thoughts didn't come out the way he meant them to, not the expressions his face made when his emotions got the better of him, not the late hours he wanted to spend after practice — because Hinata had meant it when he said he was there.
For every jab or jest, another — often times cleverer — one directed straight back at him. For every hour he spent after practice in their old gym, a partner wordlessly and eagerly joined in, still full of energy even after the most grueling of days. For every toss he sent, an awaiting hand, careening it to the opposite side of the net with groundbreaking force, a wide grin and fiery eyes asking for another, again, one more.
The same burning desire, raging motivation, to work harder, be better, the one he felt within himself, pulsing through his veins as if his body couldn’t function without it, reflected in amber eyes. That drive may have taken them in different directions, but it still flowed within them just the same, connecting them together again and again in showdowns on opposite sides of the net or battles undertaken side by side — as if it recognized itself in the other, as if it wouldn’t allow the separation to ever be permanent.
It brought them here, to their second Olympics together. It brought them to their first, in Tokyo, too. It brought them to that fated rematch years prior, and it brought them to where it all started long before that — to a tournament in the final year of junior high school when Kageyama first recognized it in the way the small captain pushed himself the extra step and soared into the air like he was meant to be there.
If Kageyama Tobio had something to be proud of, it was nestled against his chest, staring back up at him with eyes so wide they swallowed up all the light the moon had to offer.
"You... oh."
Kageyama shifted, then — his hand that had rested idly against Hinata’s scalp lowered to grasp his chin, instead. His thumb gently traced the skin beneath his mouth, occasionally gliding over the curve of his bottom lip as he repeated the gesture.
In the dark of the room, Kageyama could still see every feature of Hinata’s face so clearly. The light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose — formed from years spent training under a bright sun. Eyes that could be warm and comforting like honey, but also hot and scorching like an inferno. Soft cheeks that, now, had the faintest tint of pink to them.
"You put in a lot of work to get here, too."
Kageyama’s praises of Hinata are much different from Hinata’s of his. Where Hinata’s voice had, barely a few minutes prior, filled their room and bounced off the walls easily, Kageyama’s was quiet, not daring to go any farther than Hinata’s ears.
"I know you know that, but… I want you to know that I know it, too. That I saw it.”
His other hand, that had been wrapped around Hinata’s back, slid up to cradle his face. He adjusts his hold, so that both of his hands rest against his jaw, thumbs tracing over warm cheekbones. He hopes the touch could convey everything else his words can’t express, and he knows by the way brown eyes begin to shine like glass, that they did.
“I'm proud of you. I'm glad you're here with me. Shoyo, you..."
Kageyama’s voice fell quieter, the other’s name escaping his lips on a breath instead of a whisper. He swallowed, took in another breath, and continued in a steady whisper.
"You deserve all of this."
The words had barely left him when Hinata pushed forward and caught his still parted lips in a kiss. Kageyama’s hands, still keeping hold of Hinata’s face, guided him closer to deepen their embrace. He feels the familiar sensation of warm palms against his own skin, coming to rest on either side of his neck.
It’s brief, but even the few seconds it lasted was enough to leave the edges of Kageyama’s mind fuzzy when Hinata pulled away, still close enough for his breath to ghost his lips.
"We deserve it."
Hinata’s voice was quiet, too, as he meets Kageyama’s gaze with eyes that look as steady and unwavering as the very earth itself.
"We..."
Kageyama repeated the word softly, as one of his hands leaves the side of Hinata’s face to rest against the dip between his shoulder blades. He rubs circles into the expanse of skin there as that single syllable repeated in his mind.
We.
He knows the intent behind that single word — knows that we is all the hours they’ve spent in an empty gym until their legs practically gave out. We is the rainy days spent watching volleyball games and that ever-burning fire stoked by an impressive play. We is celebrating the victories that made them feel unstoppable, and facing the defeats with unbreakable will, together.
Kageyama Tobio and Hinata Shoyo. We.
Kageyama deserves this. Hinata deserves this.
And, because these two things can be true at once, he affirmed again: "And, you."
Hinata watches him for a moment, and Kageyama could tell he was contemplating something based on the way his eyes seemed to search his own, before he spoke again.
"Tobio?"
"Hm?"
Another pause, before a soft smile broke across Hinata’s face.
"I think I'm really lucky to have you in my life."
Kageyama’s eyebrows furrowed together, and his lips pursed as he contemplated it. There was something… off about luck. It felt random, impersonal. Kageyama was, by no means, an expert when it came to statistics and chance, but something about luck didn’t settle right in his mind.
"I don't think it's luck."
He says, and the smile on Hinata’s face grows wider. His eyes crinkled at the edges from the force of it, and he nodded, as if the same thoughts had crossed his mind, too.
"No... maybe not."
Something else entirely. Something neither of them can fully explain, but don’t need to.
Kageyama tilted his head to the side as he brought Hinata closer to him, the hand on his face sliding to rest amidst orange strands as he held the man in a tight embrace. Instantly, Hinata nestles his head into the crook of Kageyama’s shoulder, and Kageyama feels his chest rise and fall with a deep breath. He nudges the side of his face against Hinata’s head, the tip of his nose tickled by the ends of his hair.
"I love you, Shoyo,” he said, the words flowing out freely on an exhale of breath.
Hinata only had to shift his head slightly for his mouth to become positioned near Kageyama’s ear.
"I love you, too, Tobio,” he quickly returned in a low, gentle voice.
Then — with a burst of energy so sudden it nearly startled Kageyama — he pushed himself up from the curve of Kageyama’s neck, pressed a kiss to his lips quickly, and shifted his body so that half of it still draped across Kageyama’s.
"Now —” he said, as soon as his head came to rest against Kageyama’s chest once again. “— get some rest, big day tomorrow!"
Kageyama’s fingers once again slid between strands of orange hair, working idle patterns into his scalp, as a small huff of air exhaled through his nose.
"You're the one who started talking to me, dumbass,” he mumbled, lips pressed into the top of Hinata’s head. His statement, or the gesture, or both, caused a soft chuckle to ripple through Hinata’s chest. The sound alone is enough to make Kageyama’s lips curl into a slight grin against the other’s hair.
"And now I'm the one telling you to go to sleep! Goodnight!"
It’s the rising and falling of Hinata's back, the warm breaths of air that spread across his chest, and the knowledge that tomorrow will mark another milestone for them, together, that eventually lulls Kageyama into a deep, comfortable, and content sleep.