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Sawamura Daichi possesses all the qualities of a model student. Determined, hardworking, attentive.
That last one, however, is proving a little difficult in the current situation.
“Hinata, I want you to pair up with Sugawara more often. You need to be able to rely on more than one setter.”
Coach Ukai’s voice is a much harsher contrast to the light and breezy “Yes!” from Suga sitting opposite from him. Even without looking, Daichi can hear the smile in his voice.
He risks a quick glance across the table to confirm his judgment. Just as he thought, Suga is most definitely smiling. It’s small, present not only around his mouth but at the corners of his eyes too. Like reflex, it makes Daichi smile too.
It’s then that Suga seems to notice him and gives him a glance back. There’s a split second as he stares at Daichi before his expression shifts to amusement. Smiling transforms to laughter that twinkles in his eyes and Daichi knows exactly what it means.
Not listening to Coach are we, Captain? He can hear Suga teasing him, a habit Daichi is often the subject of rather than the initiator. Daichi raises an eyebrow as if to counter, Well you’re not listening now, are you?
“....focus on your serve.”
With controlled exaggeration, Suga shrugs and shakes his head before looking back at the coach.
It’s risky, positioned so close to Coach at the head of the table but Daichi decides it doesn’t hurt to linger for a moment. Especially when Suga still has that smile on his face. It makes him want to keep the warmth in his chest aflame a little longer.
His mind starts to drift toward Suga. Suga, who is cheeky and caring to his kouhai (and Daichi) at the same time. Suga, who puts the team ahead of himself, even when it hurts. Suga, who is...
Daichi really should have known better than to let his guard down.
He feels it, a pressure on his calf. Daichi freezes.
Slowly, he turns his head, just a fraction, so he can glare at Suga better. Who is adamantly not looking at him. Typical.
Daichi mimics him, desperately trying to focus on Coach. But when he feels Suga’s foot digs into his muscle, Daichi starts to sweat. He knows his ears must be burning now - and he knows that Suga knows it too.
Only Suga gets him so worked up with the simplest of gestures. Footsie isn’t a new activity to them at all, and once or twice - mostly when Asahi is with them - it’s Daichi who locks his foot around the other’s ankle, daring him to reciprocate. And Suga does, not only when Asahi is with them, but when they sit together on the bus or on the bench at practice.
It seems the list now includes team meetings where they are right next to the Coach.
“...Sawamura. Did you hear what I just said?”
Later, Daichi would be told by more than one member of the team that at this moment, he had looked like the spitting image of his past self when the headmaster’s wig had landed on his head. He’d also hear “Crossed with a radish,” from a certain setter who who was failing to hide a laugh behind his hand, and “Or a tomato!” from an overly enthusiastic middle blocker whom Daichi was certain was simply asking for ten extra laps.
Right now, Daichi wants the ground to swallow him up and never spit him out.
***
It’s only the two of them in the clubroom now. Everyone else has gone home, spared of cleaning duties by the captain and vice-captain, to which they are all grateful. (It’s not an unexpected occurrence, although the smarter ones have an inkling as to why it happens every other week. Wisely, they keep the commentary between themselves and on days where they feel brave, to smirks and wiggling eyebrows. They never get a straightforward answer in return.)
“You’re getting old, Dai.” Suga’s voice is playful as he leans his head on Daichi’s shoulder. “You only noticed when I was above your ankle.”
Daichi huffs as he adjusts his bag strap. “It must have only been about a few seconds before I noticed.”
Suga doesn’t accept his reasoning. “Still, that’s a few crucial seconds. Reaction time is important”. He lifts his head to shake it, slowly and solemnly, emphasising his point.Then, Suga gives him that grin that Daichi recognises as trouble. “Is that a grey hair I see?”
“Get off!” Daichi yells as Suga pounces, attacking him with a vigorous mock examination that includes being tickled mercilessly, in all the sensitive spots Suga has come to discover.
Their laughter isn’t the only sound to fill the clubroom for long. Someone must have have come back to get something, judging by the creak of the door as it opens.
They’re not stupid; they know at least some of the team have probably figured out they’re together. Not from themselves though. Besides with Asahi and Kiyoko, they have yet to confirm it out loud. But still, they fling themselves away from each other and fumble with their bags. There’s still Nationals to conquer, a pressure they don’t want to risk complicating for the rest. Not yet.
It’s Coach Ukai, standing in the doorway.
“Ah, I thought you two might be in here. Just wanted to know if you have a copy of the training camp form? Forgot to ask before. Hinata’s lost his.”
“S-sure,” Daichi stutters as he rummages through his bag and hands over the form, trying to calm his heartbeat. He doesn’t think Coach is prejudiced, but he also doesn’t think he needs (or wants) to know the non-volleyball related details.
“Thanks,” Coach says as he shoves the roughly folded paper into his pocket. “By the way,” he drawls, “Sugawara.”
“Yes?” Suga jerks his head up at the sound. It would be funny, how high pitched his voice was, if Daichi’s mind wasn’t spinning with apprehension at the possibility of being caught.
In an odd way, only in retrospect, does the next words that Coach says put the both of them at ease.
“I’ll forgive you for kicking me under the table this time. I’m sure it was an accident. Try not to let it happen again.”
Daichi feels his cheeks heat up at the way the Coach is looking directly between the two of them, the implication made explicit in his pointed stare. He doesn’t even known how to reply.
Suga, on the other hand, barks out a nervous laugh before nodding hastily. “I’m really sorry it won’t happen again,” he says in a rush of syllables. Coach raises his palm to stop Suga from apologising further. He clears his throat awkwardly before he continues.
“Always thought you two would be good together. Don’t mess it up,” he says in his own gruff manner of affection before waving goodbye.
Of all the things Coach had said, it’s the last thing he leaves them with, the “Bloody handsy teenagers,” that echoes through Daichi’s red, red ears the rest of the way home.
***
It’s a week later and Daichi is preparing for an interview. Sports coach for young kids with pretty good pay for three hours on Saturdays. Suga knows the manager, an old friend apparently, and encouraged him to apply. (“It’s different teaching actual kids.” “Oh please, my little sister adores you. And if you can handle our team, you can handle anything.”) More money means more meat buns for the team. Means treating his family, Suga, to the gifts they deserve.
Daichi wants to make a good impression, though maybe it is overkill to wear a suit for small part-time job.
“You should wear suits more often.” Suga hums.
Maybe not.
Daichi tugs on his blazer as Suga dusts his sleeves for longer than is necessary. Daichi waits for the not so subtle pat on his bicep. He decides to flex before he retorts, “Is that why?”
Suga makes a noise between a snort and a giggle. “Obviously.”
Daichi rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless. His boyfriend may be a rascal, but he’s a loveable one. Bordering on sappy, possibly, but Daichi isn’t a stranger to such thoughts. Sometimes he looks at Suga and believes he can see stars in his eyes. Illogical by all accounts but a firm truth in his mind. (The other explanation is that Suga turns his brain to jelly, and Daichi is okay with that too.)
“I’m afraid if they give me the job, I’ll be wearing gym clothes instead.”
Suga pretends to consider it for a second before he speaks. “That’s okay, as long as you wear shorts.” He grins as he chooses to pat Daichi’s thigh this time. Honestly, Daichi should be used to his boyfriend’s antics by now and yet he can’t stop the heat crawling up the back of his neck as Suga flutters those long eyelashes at him. Loveable rascal indeed.
But Sawamura Daichi, responsible captain of the Karasuno High volleyball team, also has a trick or two up his sleeve.
Before Suga can pull his hand away, Daichi takes hold of it and places it behind himself, resting it on the curve of his back, dangerously low. He wraps his arm around Suga and presses them together. Up close, he sees Suga’s eyes widen, hears him gasp as Daichi traces the outline of his lips with his thumb, passing over every groove at an agonisingly slow pace. It makes Suga eager - Daichi sees it in the way his eyelids droop, the way he tilts his head upward, wanting. Daichi observes the blush that tinges his cheeks and he moves his hand to cup them, smoothing his fingertips of his soft, freckled skin. He draws them together even closer until the gap between is nothing but a few inches of hot breath escaping their lips and goes in for the kill.
He moves to the side, toward Suga’s ear and whispers, pitching his voice deep and low, just the way Suga likes it. “Maybe later, after the interview.”
When he stands back, Daichi takes in the rosy glow on Suga’s cheeks, bright and pink, and lets himself feel smug. Suga is still standing there unmoving, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.
“You can dish it out but you can’t take it, huh?”
It’s worth the punch he gets in return.
(It’s even more worth it when he tells Suga he’s got the job.)
***
Daichi spots him in the distance and immediately but politely excuses himself from the conversation with his manager.
He has to restrain himself from opening his arms, ready to haul Suga into a hug. His legs still move of their own accord, speeding up from a walk to a jog, desperate to be closer to him. Suga is waving at him with a cheery smile on his face and the bright, bubbly “Daichi!” that leaves his mouth makes his heart feel five times lighter. Suga has a way of striking sunlight into people that always leaves him in awe.
They stop abruptly at the last second, unsure of how to proceed without tight hugs or deep kisses. They keep the PDA to a minimum, an occasional brush of hands and sometimes lips, when they’re to wrapped up in each other to care about the rest of the world. (Minimum is a subjective term of course - Asahi for one would disagree). Unfortunately, in a wide open field, there are no side streets to dive into, no clubrooms to stay over in.
“This is a nice surprise,” Daichi settles on in way of an honest response. After all, there are little inquisitive eyes watching them and the last thing he wants is complaints from parents about one of the coaches kissing a stranger who’d run up to him on the field. Still, he can’t shake off the ache in arms though, filled with a want, a need to reach out and hold him. Maybe it’s because the sun does everything to highlight Suga’s beauty, reminds him that he’s the luckiest person on earth. Suga really does turn my brain to jelly, he muses, but he watches as Suga’s face lights up as he introduces himself to the kids, crouching down to their level and really, he’s okay with it.
“You’ve got such a cool name!” Daichi hears Suga exclaim before he lowers his voice in a mock whisper. “Not like Coach Daichi, hmm?” Faint, kid-sized gasps fill the air. Some dart their eyes back and forth between him and Suga. Others cover their mouths with their hands - whether it’s to muffle laughter or express horror he can’t tell.
“I’m joking!” Suga springs up off his feet and walks over to stand next to him, laying a hand just under his shoulder. “You know, the name Daichi means ground? That means he’s very strong and sturdy!” Suga squeezes his arm, as if he were a teacher demonstrating to a class. But of course, Daichi knows better.
Suga isn’t finished yet.
Without warning, there’s a hand on his ass, too big to be child sized, too perfectly positioned in his back pocket to be accidental. Daichi splutters in horror as Suga, as casual as anything, starts giving the kids a lesson on the uniqueness of name meanings, making no effort whatsoever to remove his hand. “S-suga, what are you-” He can’t even finish his sentence. His manager might guess what’s happening. What if the kids see? How is he supposed to explain that? This is like footsie but for bigger kids? No, ridiculous, kids wouldn’t know what footsie is-
“Sorry to interrupt, but could I borrow Sawamura to help us pack away?” Daichi wills himself to try and make eye contact with his manager, to keep some semblance of dignity. He hears the amusement in his manager’s voice and Daichi prays that she doesn’t somehow have x-ray vision. One of these days Suga will give him a heart attack. (The little voice in his head tells him it wouldn’t be a bad way to go.)
With one last squeeze, one of many so far, Suga responds, physically to him but verbally to his manager. “I’ll help out too, Hana!” Suga walks over and quickly strikes up a conversation, eager to catch up with his friend. It’s an alarmingly quick reunion - not even ten seconds pass when both of him look his way and start giggling, Suga’s look being much more heated than his manager’s.
Suddenly, Daichi is aware of the intense heat that washes over his body and makes his shirt cling to his skin. He needs water.
He takes a long gulp from his nearby bottle he grabs from his bag, trying calm himself, when one of the kids scurries up to him.
“Ah, do you need help, Hiro?”
Daichi waits as he drinks some more. Hiro’s a good kid, always listens, quiet and focused-
“Is he your boyfriend?”
Daichi chokes on his water.
***
They’ve won.
They’ve won.
Daichi is too overwhelmed to process anything beyond that one single thought.
Cheers and yells erupt and echo throughout his body. It’s deafening, makes him numb with overload. In the chaos of court and the crowd, his eyes, his arms, automatically search for Suga.
“Suga!” he roars as he leaps into his arms, picking him up and swinging around before they are piled on from all sides with no escape. Tears of disbelief stream down their cheeks as they haul each other back on their feet. In the periphery, he sees the flash of cameras and frenzy of people but in this moment, he only has eyes for Suga. Suga, who has saved them countless of tight spots. Suga, who spends valuable time helping the team both on the court and off. Suga, the hand on his back, who helped him lead the team to victory, fulfil his promise.
Daichi gazes at the the wonderful, irreplaceable person by his side and takes him into his arms again.
Euphoria. Triumph. Love.
That is what he feels.
***
It’s a familiar scene but this time filled with joy instead of loss. Surrounding the table is the team, with plates of food that fill up as quick as they are emptied. Hinata picks up a choking hazard of a rice ball that’s as big as his head. Daichi is glad that to see Tanaka is beside him - he honestly doesn’t know whether Tsukishima, reluctantly sitting next to him with a look of pure annoyance, would help if a chunk of rice were to get lodged in Hinata’s throat. Then again, Tanaka is already thumping his own chest. Daichi hopes they all make it out alive.
Suga is next to him, fingers interlaced with his under the table. He must be frowning because Suga squeezes his hand and like clockwork, he unwinds. That’s when Suga confides with a hitch in his voice, “I think we should tell them, Dai.”
Suga’s grip loosens, unsure. Daichi holds it firm.
He looks around at everyone, not just his team but the Coach and Sensei too. Well, Coach already knows, and a fair portion of the team probably does too. Maybe it will only end up with Hinata choking on his rice ball in naive shock. He trusts the team will have their back. And if they don’t, well, they have no more games to play after this. Any tension would remain off the court, at least.
Daichi wants Suga to be completely okay before they announce it. He turns to look at Suga, the unspoken question left hanging between them.
Are you sure?
The nod from Suga is all he needs.
Daichi maintains a steady volume as he speaks, high enough to capture the team’s attention but not too high as to disturb the rest of the diners at the restaurant.
“Everyone. Suga and I have something to say.”
Daichi is a person who likes to prepare and rehearse his speeches, often writing them into the later hours of the night. Yet he can still construct a good motivational talk when the time calls for it to lift the team up and out of despair. But now, with the eyes of a team and staff on him intent and waiting, his throat is dry like the desert and the words don’t flow as well as usual.
“Suga and I...we...uh…” he rubs his neck as he looks to Suga for help.
“What Daichi means,” Suga carries on, “is that…” he pauses and looks at Daichi, smiling softly before he declares, “we’re dating.”
There are whistles and cheers from almost every member of the team. Sensei has his hands clasped together with tears in his eyes that already threaten to pour like a waterfall. Daichi presses his lips together as he catches a glimpse of what he thinks is an exchange of money between Ennoshita and Kinoshita. Even Tsukishima mutters some kind of acknowledgment, even if it is “That’s not news at all”. Thankfully, Hinata is too wrapped up in Tanaka’s celebratory one armed hug to eat and potentially choke on his food.
Daichi turns his focus back to Suga who laughs as Noya tells him with utmost seriousness that “Daichi-san better take good care of you.” Daichi snorts and Suga elbows him in the rib. “You hear that? You better take good care of me.” In predictable Sugawara Koushi fashion, he pouts, with folded arms and a challenging stare. Daichi thinks it’s cute, not only because of how he looks but because his boyfriend thinks he has the upper hand.
Without a word, he circles an arm around Suga’s waist and pulls him close. It’s much like the time in his room with his fancy suit and Suga’s old t-shirt that he had still looked so divine in, but this time he gives him the kiss, one that’s worthy of a trophy.
Daichi is sure that the ruckus that follows is disturbing the restaurant but when he pulls back and sees Suga’s flushed face full of pleasant surprise, the responsible part of him is pushed aside. The hand that Suga had placed on his chest moves in tandem to join the other, covering his face as he whines.
“Daichiiii! You can’t just do that!” Suga is beetroot red as he admonishes Daichi with a signature punch. Daichi laughs and bumps his shoulder in return.
“You’re a bad influence on me,” Daichi tells him as he gently removes a hand from Suga’s face.
Suga lets his other hand drop to rest on his lap. “The best kind of influence?” Always quick to recover, Suga smirks at him, the redness on his face fading to pink.
Their hands find each other again and so do their feet; Coach, mercifully, is at the other end of the table. There had been no need to worry, Daichi thinks as he pokes Suga’s ankle after a particularly vicious jab, no doubt revenge for his little stunt.
Daichi gives him one more nudge before he agrees.
“The best kind of influence.”