Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hinata's face is the absolute worst.

It just… god… just pisses Kageyama off. He suspects he is the only one to feel this way—well, aside from Tsukishima, but everyone's face pisses Tsukishima off, and the feeling is mutual, as far as Kageyama is concerned. That's a different kind of anger, though, and not the same kind he feels when he is, in particular, pissed about Hinata's face.

Tsukishima just makes him mad, like getting teased, or Oikawa-senpai speaking, or the vending machine running out of milk. But Hinata's face makes him mad, furious, even—a kind of slow burning anger that wriggles its way up his insides, makes him stare and glare until Hinata takes notice, jumping and often shrieking as he leaps behind one of their senpais, trying to throw challenging looks back in Kageyama's direction, with little success. This lasts until Kageyama scoffs, sliding his eyes away, quietly seething.

He doesn't know why Hinata's face rubs him the wrong way—it just does. So one day, in an attempt to pinpoint exactly what it is that makes Hinata's Shouyou's fucking face so fucking annoying, he begins to catalogue all the things that really tick him off.

This proves to be startlingly revelatory.

HINATA SHOUYOU'S HAIR IS TOO ORANGE

One might say that ‘hair' (the part that's on top of your head) is not exactly, quite, a part of someone's face. But it is involved a bit, in some aspects, and it is also impossible to rule out the frustration factor that is Hinata's hair for reasons that should be obvious, and so Kageyama is taking hair into account in the grand scheme of things.

Hinata's hair is ridiculous. There's no getting around this fact. It is blinding and pointlessly messy and practically louder than Hinata himself is. It was the first thing Kageyama noticed about him, probably the first thing anyone notices about him (if they don't hear him first, but anyway, Kageyama isn't talking about the sound producing part of his face, yet). He still vividly recalls his match against Yukigaoka, how Hinata looked like some kind of Christmas elf from hell with his green uniform, sprinting and leaping around the court.

It was weeks before he could get the image out of his mind, the blinding flash of orange that suddenly seemed to fill his whole field of view as it blasted across the court. The failed spike that still managed to give him goosebumps, send chills up and down his whole spine. The way it made him angry, even back then, angry enough that he confronted this kid from some no-name school, wanting to know how and why and what have you been doing. Kageyama should have seen that ball of fire three years earlier, no excuses. He should have noticed him on the court before that pitiful match.

It pissed him off that the last time he was going to see it was standing on the steps of the the tournament gym, so he gave the idiot some important advice, some he hoped he would retain: Only the strong remain on the court.

It would appear he needn't have worried, because several months later, standing in the Karasuno gymnasium, he heard someone screech his name, and he turned, and to his shock, he saw it again. It was the first thing his eyes were drawn to—that red, red hair.

Then his own tossed ball slammed back down on his now thoroughly stunned head, and he was angry all over again. And he has stayed angry, for several months, now.

One thing that makes it doubly infuriating is he is so fucking convinced Hinata does something to his hair. That has to be, right? There's no way anyone's hair could naturally be the exact color of a tangerine like that, let alone some kid from a Japanese town in the middle of the mountains.

He brings it up one day while they're at Sakanoshita's after practice. He will come to regret this decision.

"Oy," he grunts, as they stuff their mouths with meat buns. Hinata looks up at him. "I'm gonna ask you a question. Don't lie about it."

Hinata swallows slowly. "Can I lie about it if the truth will make you mad?"

"No, that will make me more mad!"

Hinata frowns. "You're already planning on being mad no matter how I answer!"

"No, I'm—" Kageyama pauses to take deep breaths. It does not help whatsoever, and yes, he is already mad. "Dumbass, just listen to the question."

"Fine," Hinata agrees.

Kageyama stares at him. Hinata stares back.

"Are you going to ask—"

"Yes!" Kageyama barks at him. He is going to ask it. Definitely. He's just… considering his options. How exactly do you go about asking people if they dye their hair or not? It's not like he even cares that much, he just really needs to know extremely badly or else he's never going to stop thinking about it, ever, but he doesn't care, okay? He is still staring at Hinata, god dammit—

"Are you… going to ask—"

"Is that your natural hair color?" Kageyama spits at him.

Hinata's mouth falls open. A little ways away, Tsukishima snorts (speaking of possibly not natural hair colors). Sawamura looks long-suffering. Azumane whispers to Nishinoya, "Is it okay to just ask people that?"

Nishinoya shrugs. "Tanaka asked me," he says, pointing at his blonde forelock. "After I saw him the day after coloring it."

"Okay, but what if you'd been dyeing it brown the whole time?" Tanaka asks him. Ennoshita looks like he is considering quitting the volleyball club again.

"Yes!" Hinata suddenly pipes up. Everyone looks at him. "Yeah, it is!"

Kageyama narrows his eyes suspiciously. "I told you not to—"

"I'm not lying!" Hinata says, and then he actually laughs. "Is that seriously all you wanted to ask me? You looked like you were about to poop yourself."

Kageyama darts his hand out, and Hinata isn't fast enough to dodge yet, and Kageyama manages to clamp down on the top of his head so he can't escape. "You look like you are poop!" he shouts. "And I bet you're not telling the truth."

Aggressively, he ruffles Hinata's hair, uses both hands to sweep it around on top of his head into some red tornado, dragging his fingers through the mess. Hinata shoves at him and laughs and yelps and insists that he is, he is totally telling the truth, until he finally manages to grab Kageyama by the wrists and shove his hands away.

"I'll prove it to you!" Hinata shouts at him. "Stop trying to pull my hair out!"

The racket brings the shop owner storming outside, and they disperse, and Kageyama heads home. He does some homework, and then lies in bed, tossing a volleyball into the air and staring at the hands he had buried in Hinata's hair earlier. It had been soft. Really soft.

He rolls over angrily, tugging at a lock of his own hair. Was Hinata's softer than his? He isn't sure, and this pisses him off for some reason, too. People have always told Kageyama he has really soft hair. No way is he going to sleep well, knowing Hinata's may be softer. No way.

He is out like a light in seven minutes and he may or may not dream about sherbert locks of orange fluff the entire night.

The next day after a particularly grueling practice, most of them hit the showers, as much as to ease some of the ache from their limbs as to get clean. Kageyama is just standing there, head under the water and drenched, when there is the sound of madly slapping feet on the floor, and a voice hollers, "KAGEYAMAAAA!"

"Do not slip and die!" Sawamura shouts, but Hinata is already arriving at his final destination, which turns out to be Kageyama's shower stall. The other boy stands there in front of it, hands on his hips, grinning triumphantly.

"I told you I'd prove it to you!" he yells, and thrusts his hips forward, and Kageyama's eyes are very naturally and against his will drawn directly downward in order for him to assess that, yes, Hinata is, in fact, a natural redhead.

There is a mighty uproar almost instantly after that, as Tanaka and Nishinoya promptly lose one hundred percent of their shit—Tanaka laughs so hard he nearly pukes. The captain is stony faced, Azumane is redder than any of them have ever seen him, Sugawara is absolutely laughing and trying to look like he's not. Tsukishima, it appears, doesn't even finish washing the shampoo out of his hair, he just turns off the water and leaves. Kageyama knows not to where.

"Hinata," he chokes, staggering back against the wall. The other boy looks at him expectantly. "Alright," Kageyama says weakly. "You… you win."

Hinata whoops, almost slips and dies, and disappears back into his own stall.

Later, as Kageyama is packing up his bag in a daze, Sugawara walks by and claps him on the shoulder. "You asked," he says, with a hint of definite glee in his voice.

So, that's just how Hinata's hair is, Kageyama is forced to admit to himself, resigning himself to this reality. The most annoying part is it would appear he can't actually be irritated with Hinata if he's not purposefully inflicting his fiery inferno of a hairstyle on Kageyama's retinas.

There are upsides, Kageyama supposes, as he stands on the court in the middle of a practice match, his team's set point, eyes flicking back and forth as Sawamura narrowly manages to receive one of the opposing team's spikes. The ball comes soaring to him and he's seeing it, but he's also seeing a spark at the corner of his vision, a trail of fire that draws his eye no matter what he's doing, what he's looking at. He's already reacting, ball flying off the tips of his fingers, straight to Hinata's waiting form as he jumps and soars and slams it down onto the opposite side of the court, winning them the set.

Kageyama grins, curls his hand into a celebratory fist, glances over and watches Hinata straighten out of his landing and throw his head back, shouting a "YES!" at the ceiling. His bangs, kinda sweaty, fly back off his forehead, his wild mop of hair fans out around him, snagging Kageyama's attention and not letting go. He's—it's too bright, way too bright. This is only their first set, so why is it suddenly so hard to breathe?

Hinata jogs past him on his way off the court for the next rotation, and Kageyama puts out a hand, swipes it against his hair without looking at him. Hinata slows, turning to face him.

"Don't lose focus," Kageyama says, wiping his face on his sleeve. "We still have another set to win."

"OSU!" Hinata shouts, nodding vigorously, hair flying everywhere. Kageyama shoos him off the court.

There are upsides to being so bright, Kageyama supposes. Even if it is really, really annoying.

Chapter Text

There are a lot of things Kageyama could say about Hinata. That he is a dumbass is one of them, of course. That he is annoying and sucks at volleyball and totally could never beat Kageyama in a race in a million years are a few other things.

Also, Hinata has a very soft, smooth forehead.

There is a chain of events that leads to Kageyama discovering and internalizing such an annoying factoid about his teammate and rival, the sequence of which shall now be described herein.

One thing Kageyama has to admit about Hinata is that he's friendly. Hinata is always trying to include people, always eager and chatty, always smiling (Kageyama hasn't gotten to the issue with that part yet, though, the smiling area), and his face is just naturally open and wide and glad. Kageyama, on the other hand, tends to scowl more often than not, brows drawing down into a severe, angry expression.

Hinata says that Kageyama will develop wrinkles before he is thirty, while he himself will stay youthful and fresh, which usually results in Kageyama trying to squeeze the top of his head until it pops. 

The annoying thing is that it's not like Hinata never frowns. He actually frowns a lot, it's just that he doesn't realize he's doing it because he is fucking stupid. Specifically, this is the reason that he frowns. 

He frowns whenever Tsukishima uses things called "metaphors" (Kageyama doesn't know what those are either, but like hell he's going to admit that to anyone, particularly Hinata or Tsukishima). He wrinkles his forehead all up whenever they compare their math homework during lunch or in the club room after practice. He scrunches his eyebrows into his hairline whenever Sugawara and Sawamura start discussing more complex volleyball plays and terms he's never heard of.

Kageyama tries to point out that Hinata does this, frowning, all the time, but Hinata won't admit it. This infuriates Kageyama. It gets to a point where he starts whipping out his phone to prove it, snapping pictures of Hinata furiously while the frowning is taking place. This plan is somewhat derailed when he attempts to keep the phone stuffed into one of his kneepads while they are in practice in order to be Fully Prepared for a moment of Hinata forehead wrinkling.

His phone flies out of the kneepad about twenty minutes in and is promptly stepped on by a hapless Azumane, who spends the next five minutes apologizing profusely to Kageyama while Sawamura looks more and more ready to explode in the background. Kageyama only narrowly survives this encounter and has to deal with his fellow first years bursting into laughter every time they even dare to look at him for the entire rest of practice that afternoon and the next day, as well. 

Reluctantly, he is forced to stop trying to catch Hinata in the act. However, he has enough pictures stored up that he can flip through them all later at home, lingering on every single one to determine whether or not the forehead wrinkles are visible. There is one where he didn't quite take it in time, but Hinata is laughing hard, and his forehead is maybe a little wrinkled, and Kageyama stares at this one for a very long time, until he finally falls asleep.

He keeps trying to come up with ways to prove to Hinata and the rest of the world that he will not look like a wrinkled old man before he is middle aged, when there is an occurrence at practice one day that puts the thought out of his mind, entirely. 

It starts off a day like any other, but hotter than most, and they're doing sprints to warm up. Kageyama and Hinata are paired with (pitted against) each other, as usual, and so off they go, tearing up the road, racing to be the fastest, pacing themselves about as well as two intoxicated roadrunners. By the time they get back to the gym, they are winded.

Kageyama regrets his choices (mostly the one where he tried to cut in front of Hinata on an inside curb and nearly broke his neck, giving up his hard-earned lead), taking deep swigs from his water bottle until he's nearly finished the entire thing. Hinata leans against the wall, looking like he is dying. They get about five minutes rest before their newly hired Coach Ukai calls for them all to round up, signaling the start of practice.

They're halfway through practice when it happens. Hinata leaps to spike a toss, misses wildly, and lands hard, way harder than normal. His knees even shake a bit when he tries to rise, and Kageyama calls a timeout immediately.

"Idiot, are you sick?" he bellows across the court at Hinata, who whips around to look at him, bewildered.

"What?!" Hinata splutters. "No!"

Kageyama marches over, ball under his arm, to glare into Hinata's face.

The smaller boy looks… like he might be sick? Or maybe like he's just embarrassed that he almost tripped and fell and Kageyama has drawn even more attention to him, that's a possibility, too. Kageyama, however, rejects this theory—no, Hinata must be sick.

"If you don't get rest, you're gonna make yourself even worse," he hisses. "We can't afford that right now."

"But I'm not!" Hinata protests. "I'm not sick!"

Kageyama growls at him and shoves his hand under Hinata's bangs, onto his forehead.

It feels… damp. With sweat. Kageyama grimaces, and slides his hand around a bit, closer to Hinata's hairline, down to his brows. Hinata's face stretches and scrunches hilariously with the movement of his hand, eyes pulled open too wide one moment, and then his eyebrows smooshed down the next. He makes no attempt to free himself, and while Kageyama can determine that he is most certainly warm, he's not sure if it's fever warm.

What he has determined is that Hinata's forehead is very, ridiculously smooth. Maybe it's because he's always smiling instead of frowning, but Kageyama's hand just sort of glides across the soft skin that's always hidden by his hair, palm brushing over it as he attempts to feel for any signs of a cold.

"Kageyama…" Hinata starts to say, sounding dubious, and Kageyama shushes him harshly.

"Don't talk, you'll get germs on me," he orders, before pushing Hinata's hair up off his face and smacking their foreheads together.

Hinata squeals. "What are you doing?!"

Kageyama doesn't answer him, he is concentrating. He closes his eyes, rolling his head from left to right, belatedly realizing that he now has Hinata’s sweat all over his own forehead (and Hinata's undoubtedly got some of his in return). But he can't tell if Hinata feels off, and even squeezing their foreheads together so hard it hurts isn't enough for him to detect a difference in temperature.

Hinata still feels way, super, too soft against his own skin, though. Is that a symptom? Is Hinata literally melting before his very eyes? Kageyama himself feels a little too warm, now—oh, hell, can colds transmit that fast? He's gonna murder Hinata.

"Kageyama—"

"Shh!"

"I'm not sick," Hinata says, stubbornly. "But I may… maybe… might have left my water bottle at home. I kind of have a headache."

Kageyama opens his eyes. If he looks down past his nose and goes slightly cross-eyed, he can see Hinata, looking sheepishly down and away, fingers twisting in his t-shirt.

Kageyama pulls back. "Why the hell didn't you say anything?" he asks.

Hinata throws his hands up in the air.

He soon wishes he'd never offered his own water, as Hinata drains the rest of it in two seconds flat, but he does offer to refill it, at least. He comes jogging back into the gym and hands it to Kageyama without really looking at him. His face is kind of red, and Kageyama figures it's just embarrassment for causing him so much trouble.

But what if…?!

Kageyama reaches over and puts his hand to Hinata's forehead again, leaving it resting there.

"Really?" Hinata complains.

"I'm just checking," Kageyama snaps at him.

Hinata sighs. Then he closes his eyes. "Fine," he mumbles. "Kinda helps with the headache, anyway."

Kageyama checks more frequently through the rest of practice, just to be sure.

Chapter Text

Strictly speaking—ears are, again, probably not a feature most people would consider to be located on the face, but as they are in the vicinity, and have caused Kageyama a great deal of stress, Hinata's must be addressed.

What's especially annoying is he never would have had a reason to be stressed over them if Hinata wasn't such an idiot. In fact, it is currently impossible to even see Hinata's ears through the ball of fluff that is his hair—it's grown out too long and curls over his ears and gets in his eyes so that Hinata is always shaking it out or puffing it off his forehead with his breath and giggling as it flies up—not that Kageyama is noticing things like that, it's just that it might interfere with his ability to spike the ball and so—alright, correction, he is noticing things like that, but only because it is his duty as Hinata's setter to notice them.

Anyway, his ears haven't been visible for a few weeks, and any issues with them have never come up. So everything is fine and dandy and Kageyama has never taken notice of how problematic Hinata's ears are before, until they are trying to study (keyword: trying) at Hinata's house one day.

They have both long since given up on even pretending like they are accomplishing anything, and Kageyama is sprawled on his back on the floor, looking at a volleyball magazine, while Hinata lounges on the bed, doing something, Kageyama isn't paying attention. At least he isn't, until he hears a panicked yelp and sits up to look.

Hinata is sitting there on his bed, two pencils sticking straight out from the sides of his head under his hair, a look of intense regret on his face. "Help!" he says.

Help with what, Kageyama wonders, bewildered, and he says as much out loud.

"What?" Hinata asks.

"What?" Kageyama replies.

"WHAT?" Hinata shouts, nearly deafening him.

The two pencils suddenly become very suspect.

"Did you… Hinata, did you stick those in your ears?" Kageyama asks.

"They're stuck in my ears!" Hinata wails, apparently unable to hear or read lips.

"Why would you do that?" Kageyama shouts, and Hinata just blinks at him, and he shakes his head. "Nevermind, come here."

The first extraction goes relatively well, as the pencil turns out to mostly actually be stuck in Hinata's hair, and Kageyama manages to help him get it out without too much of a fuss. The second pencil is another story. Apparently it had some kind of large eraser on the end of it, and is now lodged, seemingly with no intent of coming free. Kageyama sighs and pulls himself up onto the bed. He pats his legs.

"Put your head down," he instructs. "I can't do this with you squirming around like that."  

Dutifully, Hinata nods. He also sniffles a bit, and though he has stated numerous times that he "isn't crying", Kageyama is beginning to think otherwise. The sniffling and red eyes had started around the sixth minute of trying to free the second pencil, after Hinata had jerked unexpectedly and nearly taken Kageyama's eye out with the writing utensil, which had resulted in a lot of yelling and Kageyama telling him that he might puncture his brain. In retrospect, he feels bad about saying this, but he also doesn't know that he can't puncture Hinata's brain, so the warning is probably a suitable one, anyway.

Now he has Hinata's head in his lap, and he's not quite sure what to do. The first thing, he guesses, is probably trying to get a clearer picture of what he's working with, and so he says, "Don't move, got it?"

"I'm not!" Hinata says. His hands are tucked up by his chin, curled into little fists. In fact, all of him is curled in on himself, knees tucked up and elbows held in tight, a little ball. Kageyama huffs.

"Relax." He begins to brush Hinata's hair away so he can see better, combing through it with his fingers. Eventually he manages to find the origin point of the pencil, as well as a little ear. He groans. "Your ears are so tiny, dumbass," he says. "Why the hell would you even try to stick something in them?"

"I wanted to cheer you up!" Hinata says. "You seemed bummed at how much you suck at English." Kageyama pinches the top of his exposed ear, and Hinata howls. "You're gonna make it poke into my brain!"

"Shut up, I won't!" Kageyama snaps. "Okay, I'm gonna try to take it out."

He wraps his fingers around the pencil, and Hinata is already yowling.

"Don't yank it!"

"I'm not! I told you to shut up!"

He doesn't yank, but it does take some maneuvering. He's got to kind of stretch Hinata's ear, pinching and pulling, wriggling the pencil, and miraculously, after a few painstaking minutes, it comes free with a pop. He tosses it onto the floor and sighs heavily. He doesn't get paid enough to deal with this shit. (He doesn't get paid at all, actually, but maybe he can make Hinata buy him milk at school the next day.)

"Did you make sure there's no eraser pieces still in there?" Hinata asks, voice tiny. Kageyama sighs again and leans in to inspect it.

And that is when he notices. Aside from being stupidly tiny, Hinata's ears are pink.

"There's no eraser pieces… but…"

"But?" Hinata asks, sounding panicky again. He sits up. "But what?"

"I don't know." Kageyama shakes his head. "Why are your ears so red? Let me see the other one."

"Huh?" Hinata asks, but Kageyama is already grabbing his head and turning it, brushing his hair back over his other ear. He frowns. That one is red, too.

"Do they hurt?" he asks.

"Does what hurt?" Hinata looks totally lost, and somewhat terrified.

"Your ears, stupid," Kageyama says. He reaches out, now that he can see both of them, small and bright pink. He rubs his thumbs over them, trying to be gentle, something he is historically bad at. "Do they hurt, did I hurt you?" He was trying really hard to be careful when he took the pencils out.

"No!" Hinata exclaims. His voice sounds weird, and Kageyama withdraws his hands, because maybe dumb Hinata really is in pain and probably thinks he's too cool to admit it. "They don't hurt. They're just, um. I don't know! They're fine!" He scrabbles at his hair, clawing it back down over his ears.

Kageyama eyes him dubiously. "Sure. Whatever."

Eventually, he heads home, but he thinks about it during his entire walk back. Why did Hinata's ears look like that? What if his ears are broken, and he won't even say? What if it's all Kageyama's fault?

By the time he's toeing his shoes off inside his door, he is seething. If Hinata had just not stuck pencils into his ears like some kind of four year old idiot, none of this would have happened. Now, despite Kageyama's best efforts, his ears may never be the same.

He has to get Hinata to fess up, one way or another.

So begins the Ear Inspection Campaign. During practice, in the hallways at school, when he finds him at the vending machine, Kageyama tries to catch Hinata off guard by questioning him about his ears. Once or twice he even tries to grab him to check, but Hinata is usually for some weird reason put on alert by Kageyama shouting, "WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR EARS RIGHT NOW?" at him and manages to dodge.

Kageyama resolutely ignores the odd stares the rest of the team keeps giving him (in Tsukishima's case, the scathing comments about his "sick obsession"). They have no idea the types of awful, ear-related issues Hinata might be suffering in silence, all because he's too dumb to admit he's actually suffering.

He develops a new tactic: patience. He lets it go for about a week, doesn't mention anything, and Hinata stops being so antsy around him. Kageyama lulls him into such a false sense of security that, while they are eating lunch together one afternoon, Hinata actually begins to doze off against the wall behind them, head lolling to the side. Kageyama knows it is his time to strike.

He strikes… slowly.

He reaches out, softly moving Hinata's hair out of the way, until he finds it. One small ear, nestled beneath the orange curls. It's pale, and little, and not pink at all.

Unconsciously, Kageyama breathes a sigh of relief. Hinata is fine. Nothing seems to be wrong. He traces his finger along the edge of it, but it feels totally normal.

And then, he hears a gasp, and suddenly, the tips of Hinata's ears are no longer pale, they are turning steadily rose pink, darkening to a burning red as Kageyama watches. He yanks his hand away.

"I knew it, I knew it!" he shouts, but doesn't feel very triumphant at being proven right, because it is happening again, something is wrong with Hinata's ears.

"Kageyama!" Hinata also shouts, clapping a hand over the offending appendage. Kageyama tries to pry it away to see.

"We can't just ignore this!" Kageyama says adamantly. "What if your ear falls off?"

"It's not going to!" Hinata says, trying to push him off. "Quit it—I'm not—I'm just embarrassed, you jackass!"

Kageyama stops fussing him. "What? Why?"

"I don't know," Hinata says, sounding utterly exasperated. "Maybe because you keep trying to touch my ears? In front of everyone?"

Kageyama looks around. There's no one else in the area. "We're alone."

"Well—" Hinata splutters. "Yeah, but—it's still embarrassing!"

Kageyama peers into his face. It's also red. Come to think of it, Hinata does turn red a lot, and he doesn't like when it's pointed out. Even now, he's avoiding eye contact, teeth worrying at his bottom lip (more on those later). Hmm.

"Are you sure that's the only reason?" Kageyama questions him.

"Yes," Hinata sighs.

Kageyama sits back against the wall. "Huh… well, alright. Why didn't you just say that before?"

Hinata stares at him. "That's it? You're just gonna stop now?"

"Yeah." Kageyama shrugs. "You want me to stop, right?"

After a moment, Hinata says, "Yeah." He shakes his head and brushes his hair back subconsciously, revealing the tip of his ear again.

It's still pink, though Kageyama does not have his hands anywhere near it.

Chapter Text

"Toss to me!"

Kageyama falters in the middle of a jump serve, eyebrow twitching in irritation as the hit goes wide, out of bounds. He turns, fully intent upon berating Hinata for distracting him.

Hinata is standing directly behind him, volleyball clasped to his chest with both small hands, staring intently at Kageyama. Kageyama gets a familiar sinking feeling in his heart because no, no—this cannot happen every single time.

Hinata pokes his nose forward, opens his eyes wide, imploring, and repeats, hopeful and excited and demanding, all at once: "Toss to me!"

Kageyama grabs the volleyball out of his hands. "Fine," he growls.

He's annoyed, he's annoyed, he's so annoyed. It isn't like he wants to do it. There are things he needs to be working on himself, his serves and his receives, but along comes Hinata, loud and inconsiderate and persistent, and Kageyama is forced—forced, dammit—to give in to whatever he wants, whenever he wants it.

There's one aspect of Hinata's pleading that gets him every single time, and it irritates him so much he can barely stand it.

He does something, with his eyes.

It's not the Scary Hinata expression he gets sometimes, in the middle of the action, the one that makes Kageyama's heart pound a little faster and blood feel a little hotter. Because Hinata literally looks like he is going to kill someone when he gets that look, and Kageyama is going on alert, he is making sure nobody is within striking distance, that is all. What if Hinata ended up in prison and Kageyama had no one to practice the freak quick with? That would suck.

So, it's not just because he understands that look in the deepest, most integral part of himself, a feeling that may not manifest on his own face but that makes him come alive, rise to the challenge, want to take on the world.

No, this is different. Hinata looks at Kageyama, and his eyes go round and shiny, shinier than usual, the warm brown of them taking on some kind of translucent, honey amber color, and somehow, no matter what Kageyama is planning on actually saying (usually "No"), he ends up saying "Fine" or "Okay" or "Last one, dumbass, you said one more two hours ago", instead.

Kageyama does not know how Hinata's eyes do this (he has actually attempted to achieve the same effect in his bathroom mirror at home, but the results were mixed and a little frightening), but he knows Hinata is doing something, and it makes him really mad. He has wondered if it's got something to do with those light eyelashes of his, long and thick, but still a little hard to see unless they're standing close to each other, like during the times Hinata tugs on him to pull him down to the same level and tell him something in his ear. Then Kageyama can see them clearly, kind of shimmery and soft as Hinata's eyes dart around while he's trying to whisper all sneakily—and sometimes Kageyama can't help but stare as they flutter closed and open. So maybe, yeah, it's got something to do with that.

It's not fair, that he should get no say in the matter, when all Hinata has to do is look at him to make him change his mind.

So, yes, that's annoying. But the real disaster is when it starts happening outside of volleyball practice.

To say that the first years are devastated when the team goes out to Sakanoshita's, but the third years need to take a break from buying them meat buns after every practice, is an understatement.

Alright, it's an overstatement in Tsukishima and Yamaguchi's case, the former of whom "isn't hungry", and the latter of whom doesn't want to "bother the senpais". Kageyama and Hinata, however, are shattered, and rightly so.

Kageyama is starving, and he's also overheated, after the long practice. So he decides that, though it might not be a meat bun, popsicles are cheap, and cold, and he may as well get one before he walks home. He parses his change out onto the counter, thanks Coach Ukai, and is all set to enjoy his cold, orange-flavored treat, when he feels himself being watched.

No, he thinks. I will not.

He turns and there's Hinata, standing behind him and staring, small spiker's hands clenching tight in the bottom of his black Karasuno jacket. Kageyama glares at him.

"What?" he snaps.

Hinata's eyes flick away from the popsicle in his hand, to the floor, and then dart back up. It is somewhat a different look than the entitled one he gets in practice, the one that says he deserves another toss and Kageyama must give it to him. This is much more hesitant, shy. But when he finally makes eye contact with Kageyama for a brief, fleeting second, his eyes are big and golden, as always.

"Nothing," Hinata says, looking away again.

Kageyama scowls. He opens his mouth to tell Hinata to get moving. When he speaks, however, what he actually says is, "You better pay me back, idiot Hinata."

Hinata's head snaps up, and his mouth copies his eyes, going wide and shocked, before he's breaking into a brilliant grin (not going into too much detail about that, Kageyama isn't ready to talk about the excessive smiling yet). His eyes crinkle at the edges, nearly shut with the force of his glee, and Kageyama slams some coins down on the counter and folds his arms while Hinata chooses a flavor (blueberry), and then they both walk out of the store together.

"You didn't have to get me anything," Hinata tells him, slurping so happily on his frozen treat that Kageyama is pretty sure he did have to or Hinata would have probably died. Or been sad. Or something else horrible.

"I know I didn't!" Kageyama says. "You were the one who wouldn't leave me alone!"

"I didn't even say anything!" Hinata protests.

No, he hadn't, but Kageyama doesn't know how to yell at him for doing the Thing with his eyes, so he settles for looking very sullen.

So sullen that, when Hinata turns his face up toward him and inquires as to the taste of his orange popsicle (which he's tried before, Kageyama has seen him eating them), Kageyama totally doesn't even look at him when he lets Hinata nibble a little piece off the end.

The Eye Thing gets to a point that Kageyama feels is pushing the boundaries of ridiculous. He has only to make the briefest eye contact with Hinata—just glance at him—and the next thing he knows, Hinata is smiling like Kageyama has just informed him he's won Nationals, twice, singlehandedly, as Kageyama agrees to lunch practice, agrees to study together, agrees to stay over at Hinata's house…?

This last one is not at all what he intended to do when they decided on the aforementioned study plans, but night has fallen, and Hinata's mom has said it is okay, and Hinata is nodding at him, bright-eyed, like this is the best idea in the world when it is probably the worst (they have to wake up so early the next morning), and Kageyama is calling his mom and letting her know where he is, and where he'll be, and that he'll see her the next day, and she sounds somewhat excited when she tells him to thank Hinata's family for letting him spend the night, and that is the story of how Kageyama finds himself in Hinata's room after dark arguing over who should take the bed.

"It's your bed," Kageyama says, arms crossed over his chest.

"You're the guest!" Hinata says, arms gesturing insistently.

"It's not a big deal, we didn't even know I was staying until ten minutes ago." Kageyama shrugs. "Besides, it's probably too small for me."

"It's a normal-sized bed," Hinata deadpans. "The futon is comfortable, I don't mind it for one night."

"Neither do I!" Kageyama says, sitting down on it with a soft flump. He can't take Hinata's bed. For one thing, Hinata is way too hyper, he never stops moving around during the day. If he doesn't sleep properly, he won't have enough energy for volleyball practice. Also, Hinata's bed probably smells like Hinata, and Kageyama does not want to smell like Hinata, no way.

(He is realizing, at that very moment, that he knows what Hinata smells like. He's not sure how to feel about this. Will it make it easier to pinpoint Hinata's location during games? He will test this out in the morning at practice.)

Hinata sighs and casts his gaze around the room. Then he snaps his fingers. "I know. We'll share the bed!"

Kageyama's head snaps up. "What? How did you decide on that?"

"Sharing the futon would be pointless," Hinata says, like that's the main reason they should be sharing the bed and not sleeping in separate locations like two teammates (and sworn rivals) would normally do.

"I'm not sharing a bed with you!" Kageyama vetoes the idea immediately. "You kick and you probably get the sheets all sweaty."

"I do not," Hinata yelps. "You definitely would get the sheets sweatier than me, you're all intense all the time—"

"Doesn't matter," Kageyama says shortly. "Not sharing."

"Then you take the bed!"

"No."

"Then we'll share," Hinata says, and his eyes get big and soft and round as he stares at Kageyama, before he lets out a tiny, "Okay?"

Kageyama knows, if he opens his mouth to say no, he's going to end up saying yes. He has been here too many times not to realize this. But then he thinks about it, about squashing up under the blankets with Hinata, trying to sleep with Hinata's breath blowing against the back of his neck or his face, Hinata's small, warm limbs shoved all up against his own, about waking up in the morning and having to stare into Hinata's face and he closes his eyes so he can't see Hinata's and says,

"Stop asking me, for fuck's sake, I don't want to sleep in the same stupid bed as you!"

Hinata doesn't respond to him. And so Kageyama opens his eyes, and when he does, he is shocked to see that Hinata doesn't look hopeful, or insistent, or any of the things he usually does. His eyes are shiny but—Kageyama is horrendously stunned as they blink, too fast, too shiny to be anything but the very first signs of tears about to fall.

Shit.

"Hinata—" he starts to say, but Hinata turns his back on him and turns off the lights.

"I'll take the bed," Hinata grunts at him, clearly trying and failing to keep the anger out of his voice.

Why is the bed such a big deal, Kageyama wants to ask him, but he doesn't. He lies down on the futon and doesn't say anything.

After a long moment of awful, awkward silence, a voice says from above him, "Sorry. I didn't… I thought you'd be more comfortable." Hinata lets out a little, tiny sigh.

Kageyama heaves himself out of the futon and peels back the covers on the bed, sliding under them next to Hinata. The bed isn't really any smaller than his own (no wonder Hinata always moves around so much in his sleep, they make fun of him for it at camp but he's got so much more extra space to work with than the rest of them, he must just be used to it). It does smell like Hinata, but it's not so bad.

"I—oh," Hinata whispers. "Do you want the bed?"

"There's room," Kageyama says. "We can share."

He's sleepy, but he's still vaguely aware of the fact that he gave in, still. He said yes, and Hinata wasn't even looking at him this time.

Sleepy Kageyama brain murmurs, his power grows.

But it also notes that Hinata is no longer sniffling.

"Oy," Kageyama mumbles into the pillow. "Didn't mean to yell at you."

"S'okay," Hinata mumbles back. "Night."

"Night."

Chapter Text

Training camp weekends in Tokyo are pretty strenuous, for all the right reasons. They live and breathe volleyball for those few, glorious days, don't get quite enough rest, but plenty of food—it's heaven.

In the few hours they spend not practicing, Kageyama mostly keeps to himself, or shadows Hinata. The former more than the latter, however, because Hinata seems to have made friends with every single person on every other team and spends his time running in circles like an excited puppy, trying to talk to the ace senpais, trying to shoehorn his way into other people's open practices, trying to sit with Kenma during dinner.

"Trying to" perhaps isn't the right phrase, because it's more like "succeeding at", as Kageyama watches Bokuto Koutarou lose his mind every time Hinata is within his field of view, as Hinata disappears for hours to practice spiking against the fearsome duo of Nekoma's perpetually grinning captain and Tsukishima, as he sits with his back pressed up against Kenma's at the table, talking with his mouth full while Kenma nods and "mhmm"-s and stares at his DS.

Kageyama is never quite sure what to do with all those people around, and so he practices late into the evening with only Yachi for company, because it turns out she isn't quite sure what to do with all those people around, either. He dutifully answers her (possibly endless, but he could talk about volleyball endlessly) questions about the game, and tries to learn a thing or two on his own time.

It's always dark when he's decided he's practiced enough, so he always walks Yachi back to the building where the other managers are staying before heading back to the boys' rooms. It's on a Saturday that they are following this usual routine, when he hears a loud burst of laughter and commotion coming from one of the open gym doors.

They slow in their walking, and realize it's Bokuto, guffawing with his head thrown back, fists on his hips.

"Say it again!" he bellows, and Hinata pulls himself up to his full height, eyes closed, fists clenched at his sides, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he yells at the top of his lungs,

"I'm going to become the ace! I'm going to surpass you!"

"A noble goal!" Bokuto shouts, as Tsukishima rolls his eyes and Akaashi admonishes quietly,

"Bokuto-san, it's going to happen sooner rather than later if you don't start taking things more seriously."

Bokuto looks mortally wounded. Kuroo's lopsided fringe is shivering against the force of his unvoiced laughter.

"I bet," Lev says, eyes shining, "that I can surpass Bokuto-senpai way faster than you."

"Okay, hang on," Bokuto starts to say, a pout forming over his features, and Kuroo can no longer contain himself.

"They have zero respect for you," he wheezes, doubling over. "Like, none at all."

Lev is nodding, but Hinata yelps, "I respect Bokuto-senpai! That's why I always email him asking for his opinion and stuff!"

Akaashi's expression morphs into something that, on his placid features, could be classified as alarmed. "Opinions on what?"

"Volleyball!" Hinata says, because of course. "But also, like, movies! And clothes! And…" He goes suddenly red, but Bokuto puffs out his chest.

"And relationship stuff," he says proudly.

"Oh, no," Akaashi murmurs.

"I understand why you're single now," Tsukishima says flatly, and that's it for Kuroo, who laughs so hard he has to walk away for a moment.

"Not single," Bokuto says, wagging his finger in Tsukishima's face.

"Bokuto-senpai says I'm 'on the market'," Hinata adds, knowledgeably.

Bokuto nods. "That is exactly correct." He reaches out and pinches Hinata's nose between the knuckles of his pointer and middle fingers, and Hinata yells nasally while Bokuto laughs.

Kageyama turns away from the door. Relationship stuff?  He turns the phrase over in his mind. What does that mean? There's no way dumbass Hinata is ready for a... a relationship... whatever that consists of. Kageyama wouldn't know, because he's never thought about it. He's never even been interested in a relationship with anyone, and besides, there is volleyball. Which Hinata, currently, needs to be spending all his time focusing on, because he is generally terrible at it. He doesn't have time for any of these "relationships".

"Come on," Kageyama mutters to Yachi, turning to go, but then:

"Kageyama! Hitoka!"

Kageyama freezes, turning slowly back around. Hinata is waving enthusiastically at them.

"Hi, Shouyou!" Yachi calls back, waving.

"Where are you guys going?"

"Walking Yachi back," Kageyama grunts. "Then bath."

"Oh!" Hinata looks back at the others, and then says, "I'll come!"

"You don't have to—" Kageyama starts to say, but Bokuto is already giving Hinata a shove forward, and Hinata is stumbling toward the door, grinning.

"It's fine, it's fine," Hinata says. "We had a good practice, anyway. How was yours?"

Yachi is the one who informs him, actually, going on at length about how much Kageyama is improving, and about the new things she is learning about the game from watching everyone practice. She picks things up quickly (far quicker than Hinata), and the two of them are at about the same level of knowledge. Kageyama listens to the two small voices floating around at chest level, occasionally chiming in to correct them on terminology or offer insight.

Hinata is distracted enough that Kageyama can glance at him while he's not looking. Relationship stuff, he thinks again, disdainfully. He glares at Hinata, appraisingly, trying to imagine him in a relationship with another person, but it is impossible and just makes Kageyama feel pissed off. Should he say something? No... he can picture the expression Hinata would make if he did, like his whole face is crinkling in on itself as he stares at Kageyama in affronted confusion.

He glares harder, but he only succeeds in noticing that Hinata's nose is still red from when Bokuto grabbed it. Kageyama squints at it, feeling not concerned, but—well—

He has learned that just because a certain body part is pink does not necessarily mean there is anything wrong with it, but honestly, does Hinata's nose have to be that small?

It's only when Yachi and Hinata both fall quiet, and Hinata starts to stare back at him, that he realizes he himself has been caught in the act of it, himself.

"What?" he asks defensively.

"You're staring," Hinata tells him.

"I'm not staring."

"You are staring straight at me, right now."

Kageyama looks away.

"You can't stop once I point it out and act like you weren't," Hinata says. "What?"

"Your nose is red," Kageyama says, because that is the entire reason he was staring.

Hinata sighs. "Not again."

"I'm not saying something's wrong with it!" Kageyama glares at him.

"Kageyama-kun is right, though," Yachi says. "Your nose is red from when the Fukurodani senpai grabbed it." She looks like she's trying not to smile.

Hinata groans, but he's laughing as he rubs his palm vigorously over the tip of his tiny nose. It only makes it redder, and Kageyama tells him so, and Yachi laughs, which makes all of them start.

They drop Yachi off at the door to the manager's shared room with a resounding, "Please take care of her!", to which Yachi blushes furiously red, beelining for Shimizu as the other girls laugh.

After a bath, they join most of the rest of the Karasuno team in their room, where lights are starting to dim and people are climbing, exhausted, into futons. The first years are all pushed over into the same corner of the room, and Kageyama's futon borders Hinata's.

Hinata, for all his boundless energy, also seems to have the ability to fall asleep at will, and is out in seconds. Kageyama stretches out in his own futon and closes his eyes.

And then opens them again.

He's been having trouble, sort of, sleeping next to Hinata—ever since the first night he stayed over at the other boy's house. They've stayed at each other's places a few times since then, and they always share the bed, and it's fine, honestly, it's just that Kageyama notices things. He can't help it. It just happens, when you wake up and someone else's big dumb face is shoved up into yours, breathing up all your air.

Now they're slightly farther away, but still close enough that Kageyama can see all the little details. Hinata's breathing is already even, and it makes the tiniest, quietest whistle as he exhales through his nose.

His nose isn't pink anymore, but now that he's sleeping, Kageyama is free to analyze other things about it. For instance:

As stated, Hinata Shouyou's nose is super tiny.

Not disturbingly tiny, or anything; all in all, it probably makes sense that such a small face would have such a small nose. But the little tip of it is small, too, and slightly upturned, and Hinata has the faintest sunburn across the bridge, a little red and peeling. It's… a nice nose, Kageyama supposes, a little thin, but just… right, on Hinata's face.

Another whistley exhale escapes him, and, without really thinking about it, Kageyama reaches out and pinches his nose shut between his knuckles, like he'd seen Bokuto do earlier.

Hinata doesn't wake up. Instead, his lips (though Kageyama isn't paying that much attention to them, right now, not really) sort of bubble open so he can breathe through his mouth, breaths puffing in and out. He doesn't close them, even when Kageyama lets go of his nose again.

He looks basically the same while he's sleeping, but also different. This is one of the weird things Kageyama has noticed, lying in the same bed, and now here, one futon away. Hinata looks the same, but with his eyes closed and face slack and calm, he looks even younger and smaller and it makes Kageyama feel odd and unsettled, like he wants to do something about it. Reach out and… he doesn't know. Does he want to wake Hinata up? Is that why he feels like touching him again?

He wonders if it's fine for him to just lie here on his side, looking at Hinata while he sleeps. He does it a lot, actually, now that he thinks about it. He doesn't mean to—it's just that Kageyama almost always wakes up first and then Hinata's face, sometimes, is just there. And it's usually very early in the morning, and they don't quite have to get up yet, so Kageyama doesn't need to wake Hinata up, but it's not early enough for him to go back to sleep, yet, either. And he doesn't have a whole lot of options for where to look. So he looks at what's right in front of him, and, often, that happens to be Hinata's face.

Maybe it's because it seems like Hinata looks different while he's sleeping, but Kageyama doesn't feel like he needs to look away, the way he does when he looks at Hinata while Hinata is awake.

He turns over onto his other side, feeling grumpy. Now he's just acting fucking weird.

Kageyama doesn't really think on it too deeply until dinner the next night. He is distracted, watching the way Hinata's nose twitches as he sniffs the air shortly before he starts babbling about pork curry with shallots (Kageyama's nose is pretty good, but how does Hinata detect the shallots? Kageyama must hone his green onion detecting abilities).

He's ladling curry onto his own plate when he catches snatches of conversation from some of the Ubugawa High seniors. They're teasing one of their own, apparently over his new relationship with one of their managers.

"You're just jealous!" the older boy says, and the others snicker.

"Yeah, jealous of Minako-chan," another says. "I wish you'd stare at me like that all the time."

"He concentrates harder on her than he does on blocking," someone else whispers.

"Shut up!" the boy says, shushing them. "You guys don't get it, you're all single losers. She just looks really cute all the time, but when she sees me watching she gets all embarrassed—"

The others groan. They move on to other topics. Kageyama, meanwhile, sits frozen in place, his chopsticks halfway to his mouth.

A laugh draws his attention and he snaps his head around. Hinata is grinning over something Nishinoya is saying, and his eyes are closed, and he kind of has half-chewed food still in his mouth and a splotch of curry on his cheek, and—

And he's cute.

A lot of people probably would assume Kageyama doesn't actually have the capacity to determine whether or not something is cute. This is untrue. He is perfectly able to tell; for instance, when the girls in his class cluster around each other to compare cell phone charms—the little squashed face characters dangling from their phones are quite cute. He has been considering purchasing one from Coach Ukai's store (they come in sets, but he would obviously just give the extra to Natsu, who is cute as well). Also, he agrees with Yamaguchi and Sugawara that Yachi, with her enthusiasm and friendly attitude, is cute as well. And he is very fond of kittens, always has been. Because they are cute.

So objectively (well, subjectively, but objectively, as far as Kageyama is concerned), he can say with reasonable certainty that Hinata is cute. But he's not cute like any of those other things, it's... different, somehow. He's cute when he is unaware of being stared at, when he's just smiling at someone, or staring focused across the court, or sleeping, or eating curry, or complaining about his stomach hurting—

Hinata glances over at him and notices him looking and swallows his food too fast. He starts coughing, as Tanaka hollers and slaps him unhelpfully on the back.

When he can breathe again, he wipes his mouth and croaks, "What?" at Kageyama.

Kageyama shakes his head. He doesn't respond. He looks down at his plate and stabs at it a bit aimlessly with his chopsticks.

Cute, he thinks again. But not just cute when he doesn't know Kageyama is watching.

Hinata is cute all the time.

Chapter Text

Kageyama is silent during the bus ride back home, shell shocked by realization.

Hinata is cute. He thinks Hinata is cute.

But Hinata, with his high-pitched yelling, his irritating habits, and his subpar serves, is not actually cute. So why won't the word stop bubbling up in Kageyama's brain every time he sees him?

He knows that other people, inexplicably, think Hinata is cute. He has heard Sugawara, with an enormous grin on his face, whisper it to the captain and Azumane, when Hinata is well out of earshot. And Tanaka and Nishinoya like to call Hinata their "most precious little kouhai", but Kageyama has always suspected this is because he's the only one smaller than them (or in their libero's case, at least around the same height), and because Hinata calls them "senpai" on a regular basis, and always with that shine in his eyes.

But Hinata is Kageyama's sworn rival, and Kageyama is fairly sure that it's totally impossible, in bad form, and against protocol to find your greatest foe cute. So there is no way he thinks that Hinata is remotely in the realm of adorable, right? It's just not happening. There must be something else afoot here, something else going on…

There is a heavy thud against his shoulder and he glances over reflexively, expecting to find Hinata, who is sitting next to him as usual, pounding on his shoulder to get his attention. Kageyama is fully ready to berate him, but any and all threats snuff out when he sees what's happening.

Hinata is fast asleep with his head bumping into Kageyama's shoulder, lolling every which way whenever the bus jostles him, almost jerking awake when they hit a particularly large bump.

Kageyama thinks about pushing him off—he does think about it. But then he also thinks about how incredibly hard Hinata played the entire weekend, running at his fastest, jumping his highest, in every single set. How he would practice for hours more after that during open practice time.

Kageyama slumps in his seat, leaning over to one side, a more comfortable position for both of them. Hinata's head no longer rolls around like a rogue volleyball, resting easily on top of his shoulder instead, and Kageyama sighs, resigning himself to a long ride back to Miyagi. He glances back down at Hinata.

His cheek is smooshed where Kageyama's shoulder indents it, round, maybe even, some might say, verging on plump. Hinata seems to have never lost the last little bit of baby fat in his cheeks, and at this rate, it's possible he never will.

As Kageyama watches, Hinata rubs his cheek against the fabric of his jacket, snuggling in closer, cheek squashing and puffing before he settles again.

Kageyama makes a face and pokes at it with one finger. Hinata's cheek wobbles a bit, but he doesn't wake. Kageyama glares down at him.

Cute.

The cheek issue occupies most of his thoughts for a long time, as the weather grows colder and the skies more grey. When they're not indoors and practicing hard, they're bundled up—coats, scarves, sweatshirts, mittens. Sawamura shows up to morning practice one day with a pair of enormously fluffy earmuffs that nobody dares to make fun of him for, until Sugawara finally breaks down when the captain turns to speak to him and accidentally nails him in the nose with one fuzzy puff.

They shiver in the halls and clutch pens in cold fingers in the classroom; but come lunchtime, Kageyama walks to Hinata's class to find him sitting by the window, chatting with friends, bento box unopened in front of him. And when he sees Kageyama appear at the door, his face splits into a grin, and he jumps to his feet, and they go find their own spot to eat. In the cold, the apples of Hinata's round cheeks blotch red when he unwinds his scarf so he can inhale his food, and whenever he smiles at Kageyama, his whole face flushes, glowing pink.

It makes Kageyama feel all funny and flustered, because he is not supposed to find Hinata cute.

He feels funny, too, when they pack up together after practice, limbs sore, still warm from the exertion. They always feel too overheated to put their outerwear on at first, even though Suga warns them against going out in the cold with their damp skin exposed. They do it anyway, and it turns into a competition, who can handle the chill the longest, before they're yelping and shoving each other as they pull on their jackets and scarves with fumbly, shaky fingers, suddenly racing to see who can get fully clothed the fastest.

It's during one of these heated competitions that the first snowfall of the year starts. They've made it almost to the point where they split up, with Hinata hopping on his bike to take the road over the mountain. Today, though, Kageyama has somehow gotten three of the fingers of his right hand caught in one of the finger slots of his gloves, and Hinata's scarf is tangled around the strap of his schoolbag.

The glove is the last thing Kageyama has left to put on, and he jams his fingers into the correct spots with a triumphant "Ha!"

Hinata, who is halfway through winding his scarf around his neck, groans, and flings the end over his shoulder in a huff. Kageyama grins down at him, and Hinata shoves a hand in his face, pushing him away.

The small, mittened hand against his cheek makes him remember, makes him think about it, and his eyes are drawn to Hinata's own pink face, right as the snow begins to fall.

Hinata notices first, and flies into an immediate and manic excitement, shrieking and hollering and grabbing onto Kageyama's arm as he points up at the sky. Kageyama looks up as the snow comes down, hands in his pockets. It's just snow, he is about to say.

Then he looks at Hinata and can't say it. Hinata's eyes are doing weird things again, they're practically sparkling, and his mouth is open in a shouting grin that's so big, Kageyama is fairly sure all the snow is going to just go right into it. Hinata's seen snow before, there's no reason for him to be so happy about it, but he is. Because that's Hinata. If there is something to be happy about anywhere in the vicinity, he's going to be fucking ecstatic, just because he can.

He's cute, Kageyama thinks, but the thought annoys him much less than it usually does, as he watches the joy on the other boy's face grow and grow—because Hinata's capacity for experiencing it is boundless.

And Kageyama starts smiling. Hinata holds his hand out palm up to catch the snow and tugs hard on the inside of Kageyama's elbow with the other, face turned toward the sky, and Kageyama may not see what's so exciting about the snow, but it's sort of like the way he can't help but grin when Hinata freaks out over a successful spike in practice.

"That's so awesome that we caught it before it got dark out," Hinata says, turning to look at him, and he has snowflakes dotting his face. Kageyama snorts, and flicks at one with his gloved index finger. It streaks wet over Hinata's cheek, and Hinata blinks. "What was that for?"

"You have—" Kageyama starts to say, when another snowflake lands in the spot he just cleared. "Hmm." He frowns. Well, of course, it makes sense they'd keep getting on Hinata's face. His cheeks take up too much space. "Stay still."

He brushes the new snowflake away, but then there is a third on Hinata's other cheek, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance. To make matters worse, his gloves are made of a strange sort of non-absorbent material—ostensibly to keep any moisture from seeping through them, but completely thwarting him at his current task.

He tugs off his left glove and takes hold of Hinata's face, swiping the skin under his eye with his bare index finger. This time the result is much more satisfactory, and there is no trace of wetness left behind. Kageyama allows himself a small, victorious smirk.

"Kageyama…" Hinata says hesitantly.

Kageyama's eyes focus again, and suddenly he sees Hinata's face, tilted up to look at him, eyes a little squinted, cheeks a lot flushed and puffed between his hands.

"Oh," Kageyama says.

"What are you doing?" Hinata asks him.

"I'm…" Kageyama frowns. Isn't it obvious? "You keep getting snow on your face, moron. I was just getting it off for you."

Hinata cocks his head. "It's going to keep happening, though." As if to echo this, another shining, white mote twirls down out of the sky to land on his cheek, almost like it's laughing at Kageyama.

He lets out an angry, vague "haaah" sound, brushing it off with his thumb.

Hinata giggles. "We can't just stand here all night with you guarding my face from the snow."

"I'm not guarding it!" Kageyama says. "I'm just—" He doesn't know. He has no idea what he's doing. "Stop talking, it's making it more difficult."

"You know what'll make it less difficult?" Hinata asks, and Kageyama is sure he's about to say something stupid and useless, but then he exclaims, "Using both hands!"

Oh, huh, he's probably right. Kageyama isn't going to admit that, though. "I was getting to that. Obviously."

He pulls off his other glove, and Hinata tips his chin up, smiling, and Kageyama puts his hands back where they were, palms against Hinata's cheeks, and he protects his stupid spiker's warm, round face from the harsh realities of winter in the Japanese countryside, probably better than any other setter who's ever tried to do the same thing, he suspects. He smoothes his thumbs over soft, warm skin, and Hinata is very encouraging, subdued versions of his usual loud exclamations escaping him.

"Fwaaah, that one barely even touched me, Kageyama—"

"I know, I'm really good at this," Kageyama tells him, feeling very pleased.

"I'm probably better."

"You can't even reach my face, how could you be better?"

Hinata reaches up and smacks a hand over Kageyama's nose, and Kageyama bats his hands away. The snow has started falling far lighter, and for the past few minutes, they've mostly just been staring at each other, a stray fleck landing on Hinata's cheek every once in awhile for Kageyama to brush away.

Hinata's hands fall away, but instead of letting them hang at his sides, he holds lightly onto Kageyama's wrists, looking up at him. Kageyama momentarily forgets about the snow and what he's doing, because it feels like his job is done. Hinata looks so happy, right now, and that makes the cold seem very ineffective, makes him feel warm all over, just like he does after they pull off a perfect quick together.

Hinata takes a little, shallow breath. "Kageyama—" 

Suddenly, he jumps a bit, startling them both. His phone is buzzing in his pocket, and he pulls it out to look at it.

"My—my mom wants to know where I am!" he says, showing Kageyama. "Wow, we've been here a long time, I'm going to have to tell her you were holding me hostage."

"It was for your own good," Kageyama says sullenly.

Hinata grins at him. "I think it's probably safe now, anyway. I'll make sure to let her know how concerned you were for my wellbeing."

"Okay." Kageyama nods. He does not want Hinata-san to dislike him. She is a very nice lady, and she always keeps extra milk stocked in their fridge for when he comes over, even though Natsu is lactose intolerant (Kageyama has reassured her many times she'll grow out of it, and he hopes he's right).

Hinata pulls his scarf up around his face, and Kageyama belatedly realizes that he could have just done that, all along, but hadn't. He blinks, but Hinata is already climbing onto his bike with a wave.

"Next time it snows, I'll protect your face!" Hinata hollers, and this makes Kageyama's own cheeks blaze.

"No, you'll suck at it!" he calls back. "I'm not entrusting my face to you!"

Hinata briefly tugs his scarf down to stick his tongue out (and Kageyama pointedly looks away, because he hasn't had time to form opinions about this, yet). "Bet you will," he says, before speeding off into the night.

Kageyama glares after him. Bet he won't.

Except, he thinks, to see the look on Hinata's face, when he loses horribly. Kageyama's not exactly sure how a win or a loss would be determined for this challenge, but he'll figure it out.

It might be acceptable, in that case, to allow Hinata to touch his face next snowfall… and he wonders if it will be on the hill leading into the mountains, during the sunset (with Hinata standing on his toes to reach, and if Hinata's hands will be cold), and if their cheeks will both be the same shade of red.

Chapter Text

So far, Kageyama has not been doing excellently on his assessment of Hinata's face. He's been really, super lenient, in letting Hinata get off lightly as far as his annoying tendencies are concerned. But that stops now, as far as Kageyama is concerned, because Hinata has done something so annoying, so over the line, so unforgivable that Kageyama can no longer let things continue as they are.

That's because Hinata is now officially the first and only person ever to make Kageyama think about something that isn't volleyball more than he thinks about volleyball.

Yes—he, Kageyama Tobio, #1 volleyballer, is being distracted from the greatest sport to ever exist. He can't let this stand.

It happens when he's trying to get to sleep at night, which is also one of the times he most enjoys thinking about volleyball, going over plays in his head, what went right in practice that day, and what didn't.

But instead his mind keeps wandering, away from the ball and to other things that are more tangential to the ball, not entirely ball related. He thinks about the sound and feel of the freak quick setup, the way it's almost silent as the ball comes off his fingers, but turns into a resounding smack and slam when Hinata hits it down on the other side with all his strength.

That's fine, generally, but then he's thinking about other things, like the way Hinata's eyes lock onto the ball that Kageyama has sent to him, the toss Kageyama perfected for him, after that fucking fight and the weeks that dragged on while they weren't speaking. He thinks about the split second after Hinata's hand makes contact, his face lighting up whenever he manages to score a point. The way he stares down at his reddened palm before glancing at Kageyama like they've just achieved the greatest thing in the world (which they have, but that's besides the point, Kageyama doesn't stand there glowing like a bonfire until Coach Ukai yells at them to get on with it).

He thinks about all this other stuff until he's not even thinking about volleyball at all, anymore, and it's just Hinata, doing Hinata Things that may or may not even necessarily include volleyball, until suddenly he realizes it's one in the morning and he's got practice in six hours and he angrily shoves his face into his pillow and tries to fall asleep.

When he does, he usually still dreams about volleyball, which is good—but he's never playing alone. And that's pretty good, too, even if he doesn't really remember what he dreamed about when he wakes up.

The distractions continue in class, which is normally one of his favorite times to either catch up on sleep he lost thinking about volleyball, or think about more volleyball. But it happens again, he's thinking about things he could work on in his serve, and then he's thinking about the stupid way Hinata serves, all stiff limbed and nervous, small hand rarely smacking the ball where he wants it to go, sending it careening out of bounds or into the net. He gets stuck thinking about the way Hinata cringes when the whistle blows and the way his eyes go all big as he bows and apologizes profusely while Sawamura reassures him that it's fine, he'll get it next time. Once or twice, Kageyama has thought about saying this too (in practice, never in an actual game, because dammit Hinata boke—), but every time he starts to open his mouth, Hinata squeals and tells him that he knows, he gets it, he'll keep practicing, before he can say a word.

And his voice gets so tiny and high and it makes Kageyama's lips twitch, and he wants to—he doesn't know what. Laugh, maybe? But not to be mean (mostly), it's just that the way Hinata talks and flails and is, in general, a mess, makes him want to laugh, and possibly ruffle his hair like Tanaka and Nishinoya do. They always laugh, but it calms Hinata down instead of riling him up, until he's laughing, too, and it's something Kageyama might like to be able to do, just laugh with him—because after all, a panicking Hinata means serves to the back of the head, but a laughing one usually means… not that. Which is an improvement in any circumstance, but it also means smiles and thumbs ups directed Kageyama's way, and it makes the game fun and the bell is ringing for lunch and he's been thinking about Hinata for the past three hours instead of copying anything on the chalkboard down and now it's been erased, oh well.

The notes are one thing, but that was three hours of thinking about volleyball he just missed out on, and it's happening more and more, almost daily. Kageyama needs to say something to Hinata and he will once the right opportunity presents itself.

As it so happens, that opportunity crops up one afternoon at practice.

It's a good practice, as far as practices go. The team as a whole is moving cohesively, feeding off each others' energy, which means he and Hinata are really in sync, slamming perfect tosses left and right. Hinata hasn't even done anything that Kageyama feels he needs to yell at him for, so he's thinking he might let him off one more day when it happens.

Tsukishima rotates in and they get ready for the next serve, the next rally. It's Azumane's serve and he sends it over cleanly, but Ennoshita has a close save and then the ball is flying back over the net. Daichi receives it, straight back to Kageyama, whose eyes fly over the court searching for the perfect spot to set it, when—

He blinks as his eyes catch on Hinata, for once not intently tracking the movement of the ball. He has the lid off his water bottle so he can pour water into his palm as he closes his eyes, splashing it over his face, gasping as he rubs his hand over his forehead and nose and cheeks, tips of his bangs dripping wet. When he drinks he swallows greedily, thirsty after long hours of play, and because he's Hinata, only about sixty percent of it actually goes into his mouth. The rest drips over his chin, before running down over his jaw and throat, wetting the already sweat damp collar of his white t-shirt.

There is a dull thud as the volleyball drops to the floor at Kageyama's feet.

"Kageyama-kun?" a voice asks—Suga, staring at him in concern from the other side of the night.

Kageyama gapes at him like a fish, before turning back to Hinata, who is now also watching him, perplexed, still dripping wet, chest heaving.

The shouting starts.

"Oy, dumbass!" Kageyama bellows, in the deep and reverberating tone he only uses when Hinata's really fucked up. Hinata immediately looks like he's deciding between a fight or flight response.

"Wh-what!" he shouts back, combatively terrified.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Kageyama is seething. He missed a set. He missed.

Hinata gapes at him like a fish. "Drinking water?"

"You're spilling it!" Kageyama yells, pointing at him. "You're getting it everywhere!"

This is not strictly true—it's not really everywhere, it's not even everywhere on Hinata, but it kind of feels that way, with how there are parts of his shirt that are now damp and transparent, and droplets trailing over his well-defined jawline to pool in the hollow of his throat.

Hinata picks up his feet, confused. "I'm not spilling it…"

"You're—" Kageyama squeezes the volleyball in his hands tight. "You're being—too—"

"Don't worry about it, Hinata," Tsukishima says, and Kageyama would be stunned at this sudden show of solidarity if he didn't immediately follow it up with, "the King's just not smart enough to express his emotions properly, you'll have to speak a little slower."

Kageyama scowls, opens his mouth to tell him to shut up, but Hinata gets there first. And suddenly, he's pissed.

"Shut the fuck up, Tsukishima."

Everyone stops what they're doing to stare at him. The gym is completely quiet, except for Nishinoya, who very loudly whispers, "Holy shit, did Shouyou just say ‘fuck'?"

Judging by the look in his eyes, he did. That is Hinata's Murder Look, Kageyama knows it very well, except—he's never seen Hinata actually get angry while using it. Focused on the task at hand, maybe. Determined to prove himself, yes. Stubborn as hell, sure. But never when he's actually, genuinely pissed. Kageyama would know better than anyone.

Tsukishima is not impressed. He cocks his head, says, "I'm only being honest. One would think the two of you could understand each other perfectly, but it looks like you need to work on your communication."

Hinata bares his teeth, jaw clenched, actually snarling, and for once, it's Kageyama who steps forward, who puts a hand on his shoulder. He knows what happens when they really, actually disrupt practice by fighting in the gym, and Sawamura is starting to look Unamused. Hinata's shoulders drop when he makes contact and he takes a step back, falling into line beside Kageyama. Neither he nor Tsukishima say another word.

"Alright, that's enough," Coach Ukai says sternly, and they all start to filter back to their positions.

"What do you know, they do understand each other…" Kageyama hears Tsukishima sneer under his breath.

He turns to look at Hinata, but Hinata isn't looking back. He's drinking water again, but this time, he's got the lid screwed on, and he's careful not to spill a drop. Kageyama focuses on the ball and the rest of practice goes off without a hitch.

That night he feels out of sorts, restless. He can't stop rubbing his hands over his arms, or the back of his neck and across his collarbone, can't stop biting his lip and then touching it with his fingers when he chews a little too hard. This lasts all the way up until he's lying in bed, skin feeling strange and too tight and warm.

He realizes what's going on and sighs out an "Oh," and then a "Tch." What an inconvenience. He's already in bed and pretty sleepy, but he knows he won't actually get to sleep until he takes care of this, and so, reluctantly, he rolls over onto his back and slides his hand below the waistband of his pajama bottoms.

It's something he rarely does, and it's never been a product of being "turned on", as he's heard people call it while giggling over it (or, in Tanaka's and Nishinoya's case, shouting about it). It's always seemed very matter-of-fact, something he just needs to do every once in awhile, and it admittedly does feel pretty good—but thinking about anyone in particular or (he makes a face) imagining that nebulous concept of "fucking" has never caused him to react differently. It's always just seemed to make things more difficult. Twice, he'd tried thinking about volleyball, but that hadn't really helped, either.

That's why it is absolutely fucking shocking when he closes his eyes, and he hears a voice, saying, "Shut the fuck up."

It's not the words, really—or maybe it is, and the tone: low, warning, rough. Just different enough from usual that it sends a little thrill up his spine. And Kageyama sees him—sees Hinata—behind his eyelids, sudden and vivid as the light of day.

He gasps a little, because seeing… yeah, no denying it, Hinata… combined with the measured strokes of his hand (what he's always done, that part's no different) make a heat flood through him, prickly yet soft, curling his toes. But more than that—it's what he imagines, the things he'd like to do, and how weird that makes him feel when he has a hand on himself. Nicer and better than it's ever felt before, enough to make him see the appeal, and he realizes: he's turned on.

He keeps going, keeps seeing and imagining, because he's curious.

He sees Hinata's dumb orange hair, but he also imagines it tickling soft and light against his cheek or between his fingers, as he pushes his hand through it.

He sees a dumb, smooth forehead, a little sweaty, but he imagines what it would be like anyway, to press his own to it, to get as close as possible.

He sees dumb pink ears, but imagines them flaring red when he touches them with the pad of his thumb, feeling the curves and grooves.

He sees eyes, big, dumb eyes, but imagines how shiny and gold they'd be staring up at him, or how soft they'd be looking down, how they'd slip closed at the lightest touch, the softest brush of skin on skin.

He sees that dumb, small nose, imagines how it would wrinkle the first time they tried something like this, if it maybe felt a little weird at first.

He sees dumb, round cheeks and remembers how well they fit against his palms, imagines brushing his thumbs over the blush on that soft skin, leaning in, breath held.

He sees that dumb, distracting jawline, imagines it would clench in suspense and then loosen, and then go slack, maybe when he pays attention specifically to it, when he traces the hard line of it with his fingers to angle them better, help them fit one another like the two of them don't already, always, fit.

And finally he sees (and finally, finally he's ready to talk about it) a small mouth, with bowed lips, and a pink tongue that runs over them nervously when he finally imagines tasting all of it, how Hinata would pant and sigh and maybe moan a little, the way Kageyama is doing right now, and he swears he knows exactly what the other boy would say, and how he'd say it, if they were together, like that.

Hinata is quiet when he wants to be, he's capable of it, and Kageyama thinks he'd be quiet, would whisper back to him, "Kageyama", and just hearing it in his head is too much. He presses his palm tight over his mouth as he finishes unexpectedly with a gasp, stunned.

And when he's lying there, afterward, out of breath and shaking a little, what's most shocking is that it doesn't just feel like he made a mess to be cleaned up.

For the first time ever, it felt like something he kinda, maybe, might like to do with another person, or, more accurately, one specific person. Because it felt good, really good, he wanted it, he enjoyed it, and that's never happened before.

He lies in bed and doesn't move for a long time.

He stares up at his ceiling in the dark, and then finally, it clicks. He gets it.

"I like Hinata," he says, and it's not really so strange, the admission. It doesn't feel strange to him, anyway. Putting the pieces together had been an exercise in frustration, but now that he sees the big picture, yeah. Yeah.

Taken separately, there are a lot of things about Hinata that annoy the fuck out of him, that make him yell and scowl and want to pick a fight. But maybe that's why it's pretty cool, in the end.

When he puts all those things together, he really likes how the parts fit.

He really likes Hinata Shouyou.

Chapter Text

It's cool out when Kageyama gets to school the next morning, but the kind of cool that always precedes a nice, comfortable day—just enough to make him consider putting on a jacket, though he has to push the sleeves over his elbows before too long. The sky is still pink, bordering on turning blue. He walks up to the gate and before long sees a small, familiar figure approaching, walking their bike instead of riding it.

He waits with his hands in his pockets until Hinata reaches him.

"Late," Kageyama says, reaching out to cuff him on the back of the head.

"You said 6:30," Hinata reminds him.

"It's 6:32."

Hinata scrunches his whole face up at Kageyama in an expression Kageyama has come to know means you're being ridiculous. Kageyama is aware.

"I need to talk to you about something," Kageyama says, and Hinata's scrunched nose and eyebrows crinkle further, like, duh. "Stop making that face, stupid."

"Am I really the one being stupid, here?" Hinata asks.

Kageyama huffs, then rubs the back of his neck, and then looks away. "No…" he mumbles.

Hinata almost knocks over his bike. "Okay, jeez, what's going on? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Kageyama snaps. This was supposed to be easy. He can't look at Hinata suddenly.

"Kageyama—"

"Give me a minute."

Hinata leans his bike against the gate. "I've given you a lot of minutes."

Kageyama looks at him. Hinata has his arms crossed, and one eyebrow slightly raised, and he's not exactly smiling, but there may be something almost like one happening on his face. Kageyama swallows.

"Hey," Hinata says softly. "Kageyama, do you li—"

"I like you," Kageyama blurts, before Hinata can finish. No, no, no way is he letting Hinata say it before he does.

Hinata leans his head to the side and taps his chin, thinking. Then he glances back, and even though his face is turning red, he says, "Yeah, I like you, too."

Kageyama blushes furiously even though he tells himself not to be dumb, and then he crosses his arms, and nods. "Well, obviously."

Hinata pulls his bike away from the wall and slings the entire thing at him, catching him in the pelvic region and making him double over with a groan.

"You shit," Kageyama wheezes at him.

"I'm gonna hit you in the crotch," Hinata threatens, and then actually does try to hit him (not in the crotch), but Kageyama snags his arms to hold him still.

"Hinata—oy, alright, stop," he says, and Hinata gives up on trying to wrestle him. "It took me awhile to figure it out, okay?"

"Dummy," Hinata sneers around a giggle—somehow it's cute. "I figured it out ages ago."

"Shut up," Kageyama says. "I know."

"Not that," Hinata says, shaking his head. "I mean that I like you, too. Like, I've known for forever." And he smiles proudly, like he's beaten Kageyama at everything, but instead of making Kageyama mad, it makes him want to do the thing he swore he would even more, except now, suddenly, he's nervous.

"Hey," he says, and then swallows dryly. Dammit. "Hey, can I…"

"What?" Hinata asks, smug and sweet and beaming up at him.

"Can I kiss you?" Kageyama asks him, the words coming out gravelly and hoarse. He clears his throat as he waits for Hinata to respond.

All the smugness has evaporated from Hinata's face. His mouth falls open a little bit and his eyes go just a tiny bit wider. Slowly, he nods. "Okay."

Kageyama lets go of his wrists and then realizes he doesn't know where else his hands should be. Hinata looks to be in the same predicament, until he reaches forward slowly, little hands gripping onto the front of Kageyama's jacket. Kageyama stutters out a breath and then moves forward, leans down…

...and presses a small, soft kiss to the top of Hinata's head.

He doesn't move, afterward. Hinata's hair smells like grocery store shampoo, feels soft against his nose and cheeks, and if he turns his head and squints his eyes a little, he can see the morning sunlight filtered through the strands, burning more intensely when it reflects off orange hair than it ever would by itself. He stays right there, until he hears a small voice say, "...Kageyama?"

Kageyama jerks himself upright. Hinata is staring up at him, still wide-eyed.

"We're—going to be late," Kageyama tells him.

Hinata blinks, and then covers his mouth to hide his laughter. "We're not, but… okay. Let's go."

By the time they've changed into their practice clothes and gotten out on the court, Kageyama feels calmer, marginally. The familiar sounds of shoes squeaking, teammates yelling, volleyballs impacting the court lull him into a zone of contentment and confidence.

They're at match point, which isn't in and of itself that unusual, except Tanaka and Tsukishima are playing on the other team, and in between Tanaka's roaring challenges and Tsukki's snide taunts, Kageyama will be damned if he's not going to win. They're shutting them out pretty effectively, and as if it wasn't already decided, Kageyama knows who his next toss will be sent to.

The ball comes to him and he curves his back into the set, watching the arc of the ball as it flies off his fingertips, a perfect toss, and Hinata is running, too fast for the block to follow, already on the other side of the court—

He jumps and that ball is already in the palm of his hand, a spike some might call effortless, except it's not. It takes effort, for Kageyama to always know exactly where he'll be, it takes effort, for Hinata to outrun every obstacle, it takes effort to be the kind of perfect they achieve time and time again, and they both know it. It's in the shine of their eyes, the way Hinata practically races toward him, the same as always—except it's not the same as always.

Hinata is already raising his hand for their now customary high five (which they are especially certain to do whenever Tsukishima is on the other team), and Kageyama grabs it, hauls him in, and plants a (proud, excited, possessive) kiss directly onto his sweaty brow through his damp bangs. It's kinda gross, but also not, for reasons he can't discern, and when he pulls back enough to look at him, Hinata looks both shocked and awed.

Before Kageyama can say anything, there is a Nishinoya on his back, almost bringing him to his knees, and Tanaka is ducking under the net to grind his knuckles into Hinata's hair, grinning like a proud uncle. Azumane seems to be sighing in relief, and neither of their captains look at all surprised.

After practice has ended, when they are walking out together, Hinata nudges his shoulder and says, "That was pretty bold, Kageyama."

Kageyama blushes all over again, and says, "Sorry."

Hinata grins at the ground. "It's okay. I didn't mind."

They eat lunch in their usual spot, finding shade against the side of one of the buildings. Not that much has changed, Kageyama realizes, as he sits with his legs stretched out next to Hinata, who sits with the soles of his shoes pressed together and knees butterflied out. One of them rests on top of Kageyama's leg, and he can't stop looking at it.

"Are you even listening?" Hinata bleats at him, and he realizes that the other boy has been trying to get his attention for some time.

"Yes," Kageyama says instantly, despite the fact that he was not.

"Okay, well, then, do you?" Hinata leans a bit further into his space, nose poked out, the way he does when he wants Kageyama to toss for him.

"Do I what?" Kageyama asks, and Hinata smacks him in the arm.

"See, I knew you weren't." He rolls his eyes, looking away, then back up at Kageyama. He licks his lips, and now that's all Kageyama can seem to pay attention to. This is a losing battle. "Do you…" Hinata takes a deep breath. "Do you want to do something together this Sunday?"

Kageyama blinks at him. "Like what?"

"Like… I don't know, whatever," Hinata clarifies.

Kageyama purses his lips together. "What do you usually do on Sundays?"

Hinata shrugs. "Help my mom at home. Play video games. Go to the park with Natsu…"

"We could do that stuff, I guess," Kageyama says.

"No, Kageyama, that's not—" Hinata sighs. "We have to do something different, or it's not really, like, a date."

Kageyama chokes on his milk. "A date—"

"What did you think I meant?!" Hinata shouts.

"You just said you wanted to do something together!"

"Yes, like together together!"

The argument is headed off at the pass when Kageyama nearly dies in a milk-related disaster and Hinata has to spend six minutes helping him breathe again.

"Way to ruin the moment," Hinata huffs angrily at him.

"I didn't choke on purpose," Kageyama points out, glaring.

"Fine, whatever." Hinata leans back against the wall. "You didn't even answer. Do you want to do something, yes or no?"

He's not looking at Kageyama, and it is then that Kageyama notices his ears (Hinata has cut his hair in the recent past) are pink. He is also pouting, and Kageyama feels, inexplicably, bad about this (even though it really wasn't his fault he choked, that was all Hinata's doing).

He reaches out to trail his fingers over Hinata's little, red ear, before leaning in close and ducking his head. When he kisses him there, right on the shell of his ear where it's reddest, he notices Hinata's skin is very warm. It feels kind of nice against his mouth, and he doesn't pull away when he says, softly, so he doesn't deafen his (boy?)friend, "Yes. I want to."

When he does lean back, Hinata's eyes are closed. His gossamer eyelashes flutter a little bit, like he didn't really mean to close them. Kageyama brushes his ear with his thumb and then presses his lips really, really carefully to Hinata's eyelids, once on each. Hinata's hands twitch in his lap, and he starts to raise them, but the bell rings. His eyes fly open.

Kageyama scolds him for that, because what if he'd accidentally kissed Hinata's eyeball? He can't imagine that could be good, for either of them. Hinata doesn't argue, like he normally would. He just stares and nods, and Kageyama isn't sure he's really listening, so he relents fairly quickly and gets to his feet, offering Hinata his hand. Hinata takes it wordlessly, letting Kageyama pull him to his feet.

He does walk Hinata to his classroom, and he feels like he's doing pretty good at the whole together together thing, if he does say so himself.

Afternoon practice is uneventful, though everyone keeps shooting looks at him like they think a repeat of this morning is coming—none more so than Hinata, who can't seem to stop staring at him, until Kageyama barks at him to pay attention, which makes everyone laugh for some reason. Hinata sticks his tongue out at him, but does focus harder after that, which is enough to satisfy Kageyama.

They walk home together like they always do, except Hinata is definitely still looking at him like he thinks Kageyama doesn't see, so frequently that by the time they get to their usual spot to part ways, Kageyama is feeling antsy.

"Cut it out," he says, as they both slow to a stop, and Hinata opens his mouth a little in confusion.

"Cut what out?"

"You keep—staring at me," Kageyama says. "Why are you being so weird?"

He doesn't want to have talk about that, because he doesn't want things to be weird now, between them. Different is maybe okay, but weird isn't, because it makes him feel frustrated and confused, and he doesn't like it. He likes being around Hinata because he's never had to feel that way with him.

"I'm not being weird," Hinata protests. "I'm not trying to be, anyway."

"Well, then, trust me, you are." Kageyama ruffles his hair, because that's at least not that weird. "Calm down, moron. We just like each other, but I still think you're a dumbass and stuff. This doesn't have to be a big deal, okay?"

Hinata stares at him, before nodding. "Okay."

"I'll see you tomorrow," Kageyama tells him, turning away.

Hinata grabs his arm. "Actually, wait."

When Kageyama turns back around, Hinata squares himself up and makes direct eye contact, like he's forcing himself not to look away. Kageyama does the same, even though the back of his neck and his fingers are tingling with the way Hinata is looking at him, all determination and something else he can't quite place. Like the first time Hinata asked if Kageyama would toss to him.

"You… you asked me if you could kiss me," Hinata says. "And I, um, I did say yes…"

Kageyama gulps, probably audibly, and then nods. "Yeah."

Hinata wrinkles his nose a little bit and puffs out his cheeks like he's having a really difficult time with something. "Okay… then. I just wanted to be sure you—"

Kageyama bends down and kisses the tip of his little, twitchy nose, then up the bridge of it, and back down, because now it's all pink and Hinata is yelping, almost jumping back in surprise, before Kageyama grabs his face in his hands and holds him still.

"What are you doing?" Hinata wails, forlornly, though he doesn't actually sound unhappy. Kageyama kisses his pink cheeks, too.

"I… am… kissing you," Kageyama informs him, in between said kisses, back and forth, from one cheek to the other.

"No, you're—" Hinata pushes him away, and reaches up to grab his face, too, so they're both standing there in the middle of the road, grasping each other's faces. Hinata starts laughing.

"Can I—"

"Come over," Kageyama finishes for him. "Fine, just hurry up, shit."

"Hurry up," Hinata repeats disbelievingly. "Do you know how many times I could have said that to you?"

"Do you know how many times I could tell you to shut the hell up?" Kageyama responds.

"How many?" Hinata asks cheekily, and spends most of the rest of the walk home shrieking, his head trapped under Kageyama's arm.

It's not weird, after all.

Kageyama's parents aren't home yet, but his mom has left curry in the fridge, which they inhale. Kageyama starts attempting to wash the dishes, but Hinata flounces up behind him and grabs them out of his hands, rinsing them so fast Kageyama is afraid he's going to break them. Water gets approximately everywhere, until he is shouting, and Hinata is laughingly apologizing as he swabs up the mess with a towel.

It's not at all a laughing matter, Kageyama is trying to explain to him, as Hinata tells him he has no sense of humor, which is right about when he slips on a puddle and Kageyama's reflexes are the only thing that saves him from cracking his head open on the counter tile. He grabs Hinata around the waist to keep him from falling, and Hinata snags the front of his shirt in his moment of panic.

"Oops," Hinata says. He is looking away from Kageyama, down at the offending puddle of water that had almost brought about his demise. There's water trickling down the side of his face, right below his ear.

"Yeah, oops," Kageyama tells him, as he brings his mouth to Hinata's jaw, lips trailing over wet skin (the water tastes faintly sudsy, but whatever), and Hinata actually gasps, hands fisting in his shirt.

Kageyama goes to pull away, but this time, this time Hinata won't let him.

"No," he says softly, and Kageyama freezes in place. And then, "Stupid," as he rises up onto his toes, and presses their lips together.

Kageyama tightens his arms around Hinata's waist, and otherwise doesn't move. They stay frozen like that for what feels like forever, or at least long enough for Hinata, without actually moving away, to say, "You suck at this."

Kageyama shoves his mouth into Hinata's harder, pressing him back against the sink. Hinata makes a muffled noise and slides his arms up to wrap them loosely around Kageyama's neck. His fingers play with the hair at Kageyama's nape, twirling the strands, and Kageyama knocks their foreheads together lightly, when they finally pull back just a bit. Hinata is breathing hard. It takes a moment for Kageyama to realize he is, too—not from any actual lack of air, but because the air in the room is hot, and Hinata is in his arms, and his face is so close that Kageyama can see every detail.

"It does have to be," Hinata mumbles.

"What?" Kageyama asks, mumbles, too, because it's weirdly hard to talk. His whole body feels lazy and hazy and relaxed.

"It does have to be a big deal," Hinata says.

"How come?" Kageyama asks.

"Be-cause," Hinata says, "I told you already. I've liked you for forever, I like you more than anything, I think. I want this to be important—"

"Are you dumb?" Kageyama asks, which is a question that doesn't need answering. "When the hell did I say I didn't think this was important?"

"You said it didn't have to be a big deal," Hinata repeats for the seventy-fourth time, and Kageyama shakes him. "Ow, you're making my brain rattle—"

"Good," Kageyama says. "This doesn't have to change how we are, alright? We're just us, but we can… we can do stuff like this now, I guess."

"But—"

"You're—shut up, for like two seconds—you are important," Kageyama tells him. Hinata does shut up. "You're important. To me. Obviously, I can't believe I have to say that."

Hinata looks up at him, blank faced. Then he breaks into a small, shy smile that makes Kageyama's heart pound like he's been running miles.

"I guess you didn't really have to," Hinata says. "But I'm happy you did."

Dammit, Kageyama thinks, before he leans in, not very nervous anymore. "If you really want it to be a big deal," he murmurs, closing his lips over the shell of Hinata's ear and tugging, "then I'll make it a big deal." Hinata's hands get tight in his hair.

"Just come here," he says, pulling Kageyama down to kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him.

He makes little sounds. Just like Kageyama had kind of (really) hoped he would. He tries to talk while their mouths are squashed together, but each time the words get lost as a whisper, a breathy sigh that Kageyama echoes, that makes him bend further and slide his hands into Hinata’s hair to keep him so close, as Hinata mumbles nonsense against his lips, some of it maybe Kageyama’s name.

When their difference in height becomes too hard to work around, they slide down to the kitchen floor, not once breaking apart, until Hinata is sitting with his legs across Kageyama's lap. And Kageyama kisses every part of Hinata's face that has made him so mad over the past year, and Hinata kisses every part of Kageyama's face that he's known he likes for forever, and they meet somewhere in the middle, foreheads together, noses brushing, lips lining up just right.

"Hey…" Hinata says softly after awhile, his mouth pressed to Kageyama’s cheek. "When did you figure it out? That you liked me?"

"Hmm…" Kageyama rolls his head to the side, feeling Hinata's lips slide over his face. "Last night."

"How?"

"Ah." Kageyama blinks at him. "I thought about you when I was jerking off."

Hinata pulls back, face going through a number of complex emotions, before he collapses back into Kageyama's chest, hands over his eyes. "Oh… my god," he says. "You're gonna be so embarrassing, aren't you? I can tell."

"You wanted this," Kageyama reminds him, pulling his hands away. "For forever."

Hinata is already tilting his face back up so he can be kissed again.

"Yeah," he agrees. "And so did you."

IN CONCLUSION

Kageyama has done a lot of extensive research. He has determined that Hinata is Too Much in a lot of ways, maybe in every way, and it overwhelms him frequently, which he can't stand. He copes with this by breathing deeply and remembering that he has time to explore and catalogue and understand all of those ways, however he wants, now. Maybe he also calls Hinata a dumbass a couple of times a day. This is always met by a grin that is too bright, as always. Kageyama loves it, as always. He's hopeless, basically. 

In addition to being hopeless, Kageyama has boundless dedication and curiosity, and he is excited to enter Phase Two of his journey in learning all he can about Hinata Shouyou. This is due to the fact that he can now say one thing for certain.

He's been studying Hinata's face very, very carefully for quite awhile (some may even call him an expert), and he knows for sure that Hinata's lips aren't the best part about his face. They are pretty great, but they're not the best part.

That is because all of Hinata's face (all of him), added up together, is annoyingly, irritatingly, infuriatingly The Best.

Just don't tell Hinata, or Kageyama will never hear the end of it.