Work Text:
( seijou third years; prompt: concilliabule - a secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot for ash )
“Wow” Hanamaki grins as he walks through the gym doors half an hour before practice starts and finds Iwaizumi there, wrestling with a banner. “You’re late” Iwaizumi snaps, glaring at him. Hanamaki ignores him, still giggling at his dust-covered appearance. “What time did you get here? Where’s Oikawa?” Hanamaki asks, taking pity on him and pulling the banner off him.
“An hour ago. Fucking Oikawa ran off somewhere after dumping this banner on me.” Iwaizumi grumbles and before Hanamaki can comment, he hears a chuckle from behind him announcing Matsukawa’s arrival.
“Does your back hurt, Iwaizumi?” Matsukawa says, joining Hanamaki in trying to untangle the banner. Iwaizumi blinks, thrown by the non-sequitur, “No? Why?”
“Oh it’s nothing,” he grins, “I just though it must hurt, being wrapped around our captain’s little finger like that.”
Iwaizumi swears at them as they laugh at him, just in time for Oikawa to waltz in through the doors, a chocolate cake in his hands. “Makki! Mattsun!” he says, “You two are late.” Hanamaki rolls his eyes, “Who decided to text us in the middle of the night, telling us to come to practice tomorrow two hours early?”
“But Makki!” Oikawa whines, “It’s Kindaichi’s birthday!”. Matsukawa rolls his eyes, “You do realise he’d be happy with anything his beloved senpai gets him?”
“Matts-” Oikawa starts before getting cut off by an angrily approaching Iwaizumi, still tangled in the banner, “Iwa-chan, no! Don’t! I’m going to drop the cake!” he shrieks before all four of them dissolve into chaos.
(The surprise goes off without a hitch, Kindaichi blushing and tearing up, even when covered in chocolate cake)
( matsukawa/hanamaki; prompt: sphallolalia - flirtatious talk that leads no where for viv )
“I’ve got a surprise for you.” Matsukawa says, smile smug. Hanamaki’s dozing on his desk, waiting for class to start but he perks up instantly when he spots the box of cream puffs in Matsukawa’s hands. “Thought you’d like them,” Matsukawa smiles, placing them down on his desk and watching him rip the box open in his haste.
“They’re perfect,” Hanamaki sighs happily around his mouthful, “want some?” Matsukawa leans over to take a bite out of the half-eaten one in Hanamaki’s hand, “I’m good” he says, brushing off the stray bits of pastry on Hanamaki’s cheek just in time for Oikawa, who had been watching them both intensely, to squawk loudly.
“How long has this been going on for?” he exclaims, pointing at the two of them. Hanamaki turns to look at Matsukawa. “Do you have any idea what he’s going on about?” he blinks.
“Not a clue.” Matsukawa says, watching Oikawa splutter indignantly.
“This!” he says, gesturing between the two of them wildly, “Since when have you two started dating?!”
Hanamaki stares at him. “Uh, we’re not?” he says, “Iwaizumi, please make sure our esteemed captain sleeps more because it seems like he’s started to hallucinate.” Iwaizumi groans from the next table over and, not even lifting his head off his desk, flips them all off.
“I mean like, the food? The breakfast? The feeding? I mean, I guess it’s not-” Oikawa trails off thoughtfully.
“Not what?” Hanamaki prompts but they never find out as the teacher chooses that moment to walk in and start class.
-
“Is it weird?” Hanamaki asks as they walk home together that day, “that we’re like this I mean.”
Matsikawa shrugs, “Do you mind it?”
“Not really.” Hanamaki says.
“Then it’s fine isn’t it?” Matsukawa says, reaching out to grasp his hand. “We’re fine whichever way we want to be”
( oikawa/kunimi; prompt for nil )
Kunimi considers giving up on volleyball altogether, after their disastrous last year at Kitagawa Daiichi. It takes too much effort and time and none of it seems to be worth it, Kageyama shooting them small looks of hurt betrayal (how dare he, when he, he-), Kindaichi on edge, snappish and frustrated (still trying to meet, countless impossible demands) and Kunimi tired and weary and- (was this supposed to be fun?)
They continue with volleyball though, or well, Kindaichi decides to continue and Kunimi follows, deciding that trying to find a new club would probably be even more trouble.
Seijou is...different. Volleyball is the same, the same grueling practices, the squeak of sneakers on the court, the repetitive thud of the ball but here, Kunimi finds he can breathe easier. It’s not the coaches, Kunimi knows, because they still harp on about the way he plays, about the way he isn’t “energetic” enough. No, it’s Oikawa Tooru.
Oikawa Tooru who commands the court so effortlessly, commands it through respect, who goes out of his way to understand each of his players, to play to each of their strengths, who sees each of them and knows when to push them and when to support them, who works tirelessly, more than anyone else and Kunimi,
Kunimi follows him.
After Kitagawa, Kunimi wasn't sure he wanted to continue with volleyball but now, seeing Oikawa play, getting to play with Oikawa, he's glad he did.
( ushijima/shirabu; prompt for volleybird )
Later, when all the drills are over, all the goodbyes are said, Shirabu finds Ushijima standing beside the gym, tossing a volleyball lightly. He takes a moment to watch the other, each movement efficient and radiating power and-
Ushijima turns and spots Shirabu. He's a large and imposing figure against the setting sun, flicks of his hair turning golden, eyes bright and resolute but warm. "Shirabu," he says and Shirabu's breath catches, "Thank you."
"You have been the best setter that I could ever ask for."
Shirabu stares, stunned and breathless, because this is the man he's been chasing for ever since the first time he saw him play, overwhelmingly strong, striking a fire in Shirabu like none other and this is man Shirabu has admired for three years and, as Ushijima claps him on the back and walks away, he doesn't think he'll ever stop.
( bokuto/akaashi; prompt for arsenicjay )
It's easy to forget sometimes in the midst of Bokuto-san's mood swings that he's one of the best in the country for a reason. He's loud and brash and hotheaded, sulking one moment and elated the next, a hurricane of emotions, leaving you slightly breathless and bemusedly confused. It's easy to miss, then, the eye of the storm, the steel core in Bokuto, the one with all of the destructive power of a hurricane and an inherent understanding of the game and how to play it.
It's easy to forget sometimes but Akaashi has been watching Bokuto for longer than most, and he doesn't think it's possible for him to forget.