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Kageyama stood against the faded wallpaper of the living room, like he could blend into it if he was still for long enough. The idea of dancing seemed terrible, but so did standing in a shadowed corner, watching the party happen around him for the rest of the night. He looked out for a familiar face in the crowd, hoping to see a flash of silver, maybe, if he was lucky.
Instead he spotted Kozume Kenma, curled up on the corner of the ragged couch in the corner of the low-lit room. His head was leaned on the armrest and he looked safe and bubbled in his own small world, like he’d blocked out the sounds of thrumming bass and chatter and stomping, rhythmic feet as his thumbs tapped away at some game. Kageyama watched him for a while as he sorted out his next move.
Kageyama was surprised to see him there. He didn’t know him too well, aside from what he gathered from Hinata’s incessant chattering about him. He was a good setter, but Kageyama hadn’t had much luck befriending him in high school. Unsurprising. He was wondering if he should try to say hello, when Kenma lifted his head in order to take a sip of his drink, looking annoyed that he’d had to move. With his eyes torn away from the game, he noticed Kageyama staring.
Frozen, scrambling for a way to look away that would seem polite, Kageyama didn’t notice a girl walking up to him.
“Do you want to dance?” she said, her face flushed with dancing and nerves. Kageyama slid his terrified gaze from Kenma to her, and then back to Kenma, who was still staring at him, the corner of his mouth pulled up.
“I was…” he started, not sure where he was going to go from there, but she followed his line of sight.
“Oh, I’m sorry, you were on your way to your friend?”
No, he thought. “Yes,” he said.
“Oh, sorry, then!” She smiled and stepped out of his way.
It had been a solid excuse she’d handed him, but now that he’d taken it, he had to actually follow through. He moved his feet, one deliberate, straight, non-embarrassing step at a time. He avoided looking at Kenma, even as he flopped down on the couch. He wished he had a drink to make his hands look busy.
Kageyama waited for Kenma to make fun of him for his lack of game, but he stayed quiet.
Kageyama turned his head to see Kenma looking at him, his lips pursed and light pink against the rim of his glass, which was almost empty. His eyes were burning golden brown, and Kageyama had never noticed that when they’d played matches against each other before. His hair was almost totally natural for the first time since Kageyama had known him, too. He had it pulled back in a ponytail, only the last inch and a half or so was bleached. The remnants of high school, of the last time they’d seen each other.
“Oh. “ Kenma said. “Hi.”
Kageyama tensed. He wasn’t sure what came next. He had been to two other parties in his college career, but they’d both ended in awkward exits without anyone noticing or missing him.
They stared at each other for a moment before Kenma stretched into a newer, more upright position. He lowered his phone into his lap and darted his eyes around the room. “You want to pretend we’re talking for a bit?”
Kageyama frowned. “We are talking.”
Kenma’s eyes shifted, taking that information in. “Okay, true. Want to pretend like it matters? I’m trying to survive this, and my battery is getting low.” He tapped his fingernail on his phone’s screen.
Kageyama would have balked at the implication that he was being used in any other circumstance, but here, he wanted desperately to be seen having a good time, and if making small talk with a kid from an ex-rival team did the trick, then so be it.
He nodded.
Kenma cleared his throat and curled his body toward Kageyama, while still keeping a respectable distance. “Good. So. As long as we’re pretending to care about this together, you could grab me another drink, right?”
Kageyama frowned, not sure how this would help him look more sociable, but Kenma was quick with that answer, adding “And get one for yourself, too. Holding two drinks makes it look like you’ve got a friend here.”
The space between his eyebrows pulled tighter. “I do have a friend here.”
Kenma didn’t bother wasting a smile on him. “I know. And he’s thirsty.” He nudged him with his foot, and turned back to his game, “I’ve got to save this before the battery dies. I’ll keep your seat.”
When Kageyama stood up, straight and tall, Kenma stretched his legs out on the couch behind him, curling his toes against the fabric.
Kageyama showed back up with two cans of beer, hoping that would be adequate. Kenma didn’t seem especially pleased, but he did take the can from him and drink for a solid ten seconds before pulling back, shuddering briefly, and then burping. It was kind of cute, but Kageyama didn’t think Kenma would take kindly to that being pointed out to him, so he didn’t say anything.
He opened his own can and sipped it steadily, looking out into the writhing mass of dancing bodies and flashing lights.
“Why’d you bother coming, if you weren’t going to dance?” Kenma asked.
Kageyama frowned “It’s not all about that.”
"Oh?"
Kageyama tried to keep his gaze onto the floor, to not betray his inclinations with eye contact. He knew, from years of experience, that people could read that sort of thing, and he knew Kenma was probably better than most at that. Still, he’d blushed, and there was no amount of staring at the floor that can hide that.
"There's someone here you want to see." Kemna said it like it was a fact, which it was.
Kageyama considered his options. He could be cagey, hide his intentions, but then the conversational thread might peter out, and he didn't want to end up having to find someone else to talk to. That'd be worse than coming clean. So he nodded.
"Thought so."
Kenma didn't seem smug about it. Just like he was confirming something, which Kageyama appreciated. They were quiet for a moment, while Kageyama picked at a hangnail and Kenma looked calmly out into the crowd.
"It's Sugawara, isn't it?"
Kageyama frowned. He knew Kenma was observant, but that was too quick. The blush threatened to take over his whole face. Still, there was no point denying it. "How did you know?" he demanded.
Kenma shrugged. "You run a long game. I figured it wouldn't be anyone new. And of our high school friends here, he's probably the one you'd be into. He's a setter, like us, but more smooth. And he is very pretty."
Kageyama frowned harder at that, and Kenma's mouth quirked up at the corner.
"Don't worry, I won't steal him from you."
"Good."
Part of Kageyama wanted him to ask another question, to push it further. All the words he had never spoken aloud were pushing at the backs of his teeth. But another part of him wanted Kenma to draw it out of him with his cunning, quiet, voice. Everything was weird. He drained his beer.
“It's your turn to get some this time,” Kageyama said, an edge of challenge to his voice, just in case. Kenma sighed, but he stood up and inched along the wall toward the kitchen, strategically avoiding the steady pulse of sound and grinding from the middle of the living room.
When he returned, it was with a whole bottle of sake. “If we’re going to do this, we might as well do it efficiently, right?” he said, flopping back down onto the couch, his thigh up against Kageyama’s. “I’m not going back in there, anyway.”
They passed the bottle between them for a while, the pulse of the bass thumping in their veins, running thin and woozy with the swish of alcohol. Kageyama shifted, crossing his legs and letting his knee settle on top of Kenma’s. It was thrillingly comfortable, as if that was a combination that made sense.
"Do you want to go talk to him?" Kenma said, after a while.
Kageyama's face was a painting of horror, and Kenma laughed, a small, wrinkled-nose smile and tiny huff of air.
“I couldn’t do that.”
“He’d probably be glad to see you.” Kenma leaned further toward him. "Do you want to be with him?"
Kagayema turned to face him, trying to keep his expression calm. "You never talked this much before."
"That was high school,” Kenma shrugged. “And talking to you means not having to find someone else to talk to."
Kagayema pulled back, gathering his legs up against himself in offense. "That's rude." He’d thought the same thing, but he’d not said it aloud, He knew that much party etiquette, at least.
Kenma shrugged. "And true."
Kageyama was tired of this interrogation. "Why are you here, then? Who are you here for?"
Kenma's face was calm and even. "I came with Kuroo."
Kageyama looked out onto the dance floor, trying to pick him out of the crowd. The sea of bodies was a lot to parse, though, and his eyes shook with the stimulation. The soft vibration of Kenma's laugh next to him shook his side. "Don't bother looking for him. He's fine. He'll find me when it is time to leave."
He seemed content with that, which felt strange. "And you're okay with that?"
Kenma shrugged. "He can do whatever he wants. He just likes having me here, and I don’t mind, as long as have a game to play to kill time til then."
"Except when your battery dies."
"Lucky for me you decided to show up, then." Kenma turned when he said it, facing Kageyama, tucking his feet back under him. It was warm and familiar and forward in a way Kageyama felt like he should be more frustrated with. Kenma took a swig and passed him the bottle.
Drinking deep, he took a minute to think. He wasn't sure how to respond, since it wasn’t a direct question, so he settled for a grunt.
They leaned against separate sides of the couch for a minute. Kageyama spotted Suga, finally, and frowned. He was on the edge of the dancing, laughing at something some boy said, throwing his head back and grabbing the other boy's forearm with his pretty hands. Kageyama frowned deeper.
"I think you could get him." Kenma's whisper barely carried to Kageyama over the sound in the room.
Kageyama's lip curled up over his teeth, a sound of disdain and embarrassment hissing from him.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Kenma asked, his voice quiet.
That seemed like a good idea, but he took another swig of the bottle to be sure. He stood up, wobbling only a little on his way up. Kenma followed suit, tugging once on Kageyama’s sleeve. “Follow me.”
Kageyama did, like a tall, tipsy baby duck. They stuck to the walls, skirting the line for the bathroom, and continued past it down a dark hallway. He wondered absently if this was a place they were supposed to be allowed, but Kenma seemed to know where he was going. He slid a door open into a small, quiet courtyard.
“I didn’t know this was here,” Kageyama said, looking around him.
Kenma laid down on the grass next to the tiny koi pond, patting the ground next to him. “Yoshito’s parents are rich.”
“Who?” Kageyama said, sitting down, lining his knee up with Kenma’s side.
“You don’t even know whose party you’re at?” Kenma giggled.
“Oh. No, I guess not.” Kageyama didn’t know quite why that was funny, but he felt his mouth curling up, despite himself. He twisted to lay down on his stomach next to Kenma. Their hips were touching. The grass tickled his cheek.
It was quiet for a bit, then, except for their spluttering quiet giggles as they struggled to drink from the bottle while lying down. Kageyama finished it, turning over on his back to tip the last drops into his mouth. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and turned his head to look at Kenma again, so close to him. “Are you going to try and kiss me now?”
Kenma’s eyebrows shot up under his bangs and back down. “What?”
Surprise was not a thing he’d seen on Kenma’s face many times before, and fear that he’d read the situation wrong flooded him. “When you asked me to go somewhere else. It sounded like a proposition. I wasn’t sure. I don’t go to parties, I don’t know the rules.”
“I don’t know about party rules,” Kenma said, taking Kageyama seriously again, which kept feeling good, “I just thought you might want a distraction from watching Suga, but,” he shifted to lean on his elbow, propping his head up with his hand. His face was ruddy with alcohol. “Kissing’s a kind of distraction. Technically.”
“Technically.”
They were staring at each other again, and Kageyama’s stomach was as tight as it had been when he’d first made eye contact with Kenma from across the room. It was better this time, though. It was the kind of tension before a game, the desire to play, to win, to take the tightness in his gut and file it into a sharp thing he was good at. Which was a list, he was painfully aware, that kissing was not on.
Kenma didn’t blink much. “You could always think of it as practice for later, when you’re ready to talk to him, anyway.”
That made sense. Everything Kenma had said so far that night had made sense. They were both straightforward people. That’s what made it easy.
When Kenma leaned his head down toward Kageyama’s, it wasn’t tricky, or laced in subtle layers of something for Kageyama to fail at decoding. It was nothing more than a sharp, short incline of his chin, which Kageyama mimicked to signal he was okay with it, and then they were kissing.
Kenma’s mouth was small, and he kissed delicately. Light, sweet pecks that tingled against Kageyama’s lips.
Kageyama tested his hand against Kenma’s jaw, his fingers brushing the strands of hair that had fallen from his ponytail on the way. A small, pleased sound vibrated in Kenma’s throat at the contact, and he kissed Kageyama harder, opening his mouth and leaning his body farther over him.
Laying in the grass of a hidden courtyard, Kozume Kenma perched over him, a leg hooked around his own, pulling his lower lip into his mouth, was not something Kageyama had anticipated from the evening. But it felt good, and weirdly comfortable, so he pulled Kenma closer. They made small, soft sounds as they tucked themselves into each other, hazy and warm against the cool grass.
Kenma’s fingers were soft on Kageyama’s cheek as he nipped a line of sharp little kisses against the side of his neck, and Kageyama’s head was swimming with bright, good things.
The sounds of the party inside got louder, all of a sudden, and Kageyama looked up to see Kuroo Tetsurou leaning in the doorframe, face lit up like he’d just won the national volleyball championship. “I thought you might have a better time hiding in here, but I didn’t think you’d be having this much fun.”
Kageyama wanted to melt away into the earth, but Kenma coughed and sat up calmly, keeping his hand on Kageyama’s shoulder. “Oh,” he said, “Time to go?”
Kuroo shrugged. “Could be,” he said, still grinning like the sun, “I’ll go back inside. You just come get me when you’re ready.” He stepped back inside looking behind him surreptitiously to ensure no one was peeking over his shoulder into the courtyard. He poked his head through before shutting it all the way closed, voice painfully, gleefully polite: “Oh, and it’s good to see you again, Kageyama.”
Kageyama forced himself to nod.
When the door was shut, Kenma sighed, smiling, and tucked his stray hair behind his ear. Kageyama sat up and cleared his throat. “Will he, um, will he go tell everyone?”
“No,” Kenma cocked his head thoughtfully. “He wouldn’t. He’ll probably bother me about it later, though. Is that okay?”
Kageyama nodded. “Thank you,” he said, “for this. Tonight. It was. It was good.”
Kenma hummed. “You ready to go in and see if there’s anyone else to talk to?”
He weighed the idea. It felt simpler than it had earlier, which was relieving. “I may wait until I’m sober, for that.”
Kenma nodded. “Good plan. Only so much excitement per party is probably reasonable.” He undid his ponytail and lay back down, letting his hair fan out behind him. “I think you and I probably count as real friends, now, so,” he patted the grass next to him again, “We could stay a bit longer. You could tell me more about your pretty setter, or we could just lay here, if you want.”
Kageyama nodded and laid back down, feeling the tightness in his muscles loosening. He fiddled with his hands and thought about where to start, and, knowing Kenma would be patient, closed his eyes to organize it in his mind. The soft thump of the bass and the sound of cicadas pulsed around them. He let his arms fall to the ground at his sides, his forearm lined up with Kenma’s. He took a deep breath and exhaled it back out into the night.