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It's Kenma sliding into bed next to you that wakes you finally, his movements slow and tired as he pulls the covers up to his shoulder. He grumbles when you sit up, the hands that had been reaching for you falling back onto the mattress with a dull thump.
"Sorry, baby," you say quietly, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "I gotta get ready for work." He mumbles something unintelligible and his fingers twist into the material of your sleep shirt, pulling you closer. You let him, for just a moment, before carefully prying him off of you, giving each of his fingers a kiss as you pull them away from your shirt, leaving him in bed in favour of standing and stretching.
In the kitchen, Tetsurou is already mostly dressed, dress shirt buttoned and tie hanging loosely over his shoulders. He switches the kettle on when he sees you come in, reaching to take your coffee mug down from the cupboard for you. It hasn't been long since the three of you moved in together, but Tetsurou's always been good at this - at making himself into a home for the people around him.
"Good morning," you murmur as you walk up to him, leaning forward to let your forehead thump against his back and your arms wrap around him as he checks his phone. He turns in your hold to face you and pulls you closer, a kiss from him finding the crown of your head.
"Did you see the news?" He asks gently. You groan and reach blindingly for his phone, but he's already reading you the headline. It's something that sounds a little too much like click-bait, a story about how pro volleyball players Hinata Shoyo and Kageyama Tobio were spotted in some kind of compromising position in a public restaurant.
"Compromising position," you repeat, pulling away from Tetsurou to look for your own phone. "What, were they holding hands?" He laughs, a scratchy sort of thing that makes you smile.
"Something like that, I'm sure," he agrees, sliding a hand onto your lower back and pressing a kiss to your cheek as he hands you your phone from the counter.
"Well, I'm sure you'll be dealing with it, too," you say, opening the article on your own phone just to frown at it. "This isn't exactly good PR."
Tetsurou smiles gently at your words, rolling his shoulders as if that will help the stiffness in them - as if this will be the day the ever-pressing weight is lifted from them. It's never really surprising to the two of you - the fact that people care so much more about the drama of these players than the sport they've given their lives to. But it does, over time, wear you down, and you know that there are times when Tetsurou feels he's fighting a losing battle. You know, because you feel it, too.
You open your mouth to say something, to promise that, somehow, you'll fix this, when your phone rings. As Hinata's name shows up, you squeeze Tetsurou's arm gently in acknowledgement and slip past him to take the call, huffing out a laugh as he chases after you for one last kiss.
Tetsurou doesn't need to really hear the other side of the phone call to know what's going on, but he listens nonetheless as he switches the kettle off, Hinata's voice loud and hysterical enough that it echoes through the phone. He's seen the article, of course, and he's going on about how it's not their fault, they didn't really do anything - they were just going out to dinner and would you please do something about it, please , Tobio and I will both give you exclusive interviews -
Tetsurou would laugh if he didn't feel so bad for Hinata, because never mind, apparently, that you were their teammate at Karasuno and they give you exclusive interviews any time you ask. Never mind, of course, that you go to their house for New Year's every year and you undoubtedly believe them and will help them in any way you can. Never mind that this is why you do this job, this is why you chose to be a sports reporter of all things - to drive the conversation to where it ought to be.
You're trying, trying , to get Hinata to stop talking long enough to tell him that you'll write him an article, a good article, when his voice cuts out and there's some scuffling on the other line. You've heard this enough, fortunately, to know the sounds of Kageyama wrestling the phone away from his partner and you wait patiently, leaning into Tetsurou to press a kiss to his cheek as he fixes your morning coffee for you, glancing at his watch as he does.
Eventually, Kageyama succeeds in ceasing Hinata's babbling and he thanks you in that tight, solemn way of his, asking you if you're coming to cover his game on the weekend. Of course, you are - and you tell him as much. It was never really in doubt, but Kageyama likes to be reminded that he has people on his side, and buying you a coffee before the game is as close as he gets to knowing how to say thank you. You don't mind.
By the time you're off the phone, Tetsurou is gone from the kitchen, and you abandon your phone on the counter to chase after him back to the bedroom - because you're sure that's where he's run off to.
Sure enough, you slip through the door in time to see him there harassing a mostly asleep Kenma, cooing and kissing him while Kenma tries to bury his head further under the covers. With his streaming schedule, he sleeps a lot later than you two, always hiding away in the quiet of the mornings. But there's nothing that could stop Tetsurou from getting his goodbye kiss, and you get your own from him, as well, as you slip into bed next to Kenma for a cuddle before you leave, too.
"You forgot your coffee," Kenma mumbles, his face pressed against your collarbone.
"How did you know that?" You ask quietly.
"Because you do this every morning." Tetsurou laughs at the way you huff at Kenma's words, leaning over to press a kiss to your head before he moves away from the bed, pulling the blackout curtains further shut so that Kenma can sleep.
"I'll bring it in to you before I leave," He says before stepping out of the room quietly, leaving you in the silence with Kenma. You jostle him slightly as you shift, earning you another groan from him.
"Did you hear us talking in the kitchen?" You ask softly.
"Shoyo screams so loud I could hear him if I was outside. You should turn your phone volume down when he calls."
"I'll remember to next time," you promise. You both know you'll forget. "Anyway, I'm sure people will ask you about it. Don't comment on it, ok? Not until I get something official out, at least." Kenma lifts his head to frown at you, then, his brows furrowed and hair mussed.
"If people are going to come onto my streams and shit talk my best friend, I have to say something," he points out. You rake a hand through his hair, smoothing out the tangles.
"I know, I know - just, take it easy, ok? I want to let them get their side of things out before gossip spreads anymore." Kenma huffs at your words, letting his head thump back down into your neck as he nods. He's much the same as Tetsurou, you think, in how stubbornly he digs his heels in, how much he's willing to fight this fight. You understand it, of course, this need he has to make it known how good this sport is, how important it is to you all - how important it was to him when it saved him in high school.
You understand, of course, that this is what the three of you do - you help people, you build the bridge, you pull people onto this stage that was once yours and you fight to keep them up there.
The hand that lowers the net , that's what Hinata had once said about it, not long after you saved him from another particularly harsh gossip article. You'd laughed when he'd said it, feeling that it was a bit much to be so grateful for you doing your job. It's humanity , is what you'd told him. And it's what we're here to do .
As Kenma sighs sleepily against you, burying his head further into your neck and letting his hands tangle into your shirt, as Tetsurou slips quietly back into the room to put your coffee on the nightstand and give you one last kiss before he goes, you can't help but think about it all. You can't help but think that you're doing everything you need to do and being everything you need to be - right here in the quiet safety of your home, in a little piece of the world that you can call your own.