Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was understood among Karasuno volleyball players that Kageyama had a resting bitch face issue. And yet, Hinata felt the difference between Kageyama’s angry face and his normal face was pretty easy to discern once you got to know him. The best indicator was how many wrinkles had formed on the bridge of his nose. No wrinkles, that was just Kageyama spacing out. One wrinkle, that was his concentration face. Two wrinkles, now we were getting to annoyed. Three wrinkles crammed into such a tight space, pulling his eyebrows down into sharp angled slopes, narrowing the view of those dark eyes that smoldered like hot coals … that was anger.

Four wrinkles was not possible. If you made Kageyama angrier than three wrinkles, his right eyebrow would start to twitch. A fine, almost invisible movement, Hinata had only seen it once. He normally stays in the range of two wrinkles and a lot of yelling.

Right now, Kageyama is scowling with two wrinkles. It’s annoying because Hinata is barely keeping it together. The whole train ride down, he’s been dreading this. He almost said no to coming at all.

It isn’t just the distance between Miyagi and Tokyo. It’s the fact that Kageyama went pro. It’s the fact that Kageyama is currently at the selection camp for the men’s Olympic team. It’s the fact that—while Hinata has a plan—he’s basically in a holding pattern right now.

He burns with jealousy and frustration.

While Kageyama glares at him, Hinata is about to shout back, “Hey, you invited ME!” but before he can, a familiar voice calls out,

“Shoyo-kun!”

A third wrinkle pops up, then immediately disappears. Kageyama’s attention slides in the direction of the voice, but there’s no surprise on his face. He seems to have known that the other man was there.

When Hinata turns, he recognizes the man’s face right away but can’t remember his name. He’s tall, blond, and overly familiar. But Hinata doesn’t have a clue—Actually, that’s not true. He remembers his name just not which one he is.

“Miya-san! Hi!”

Hinata feels really proud of himself for the quick save. He has never been able to tell the Miya brothers apart, although he remembers hearing that one of them no longer plays volleyball, so perhaps he doesn’t need to anymore.

Without much else to say, Hinata concludes, “I guess you’re participating in the Olympic selection camp too?”

Three wrinkles again. Kageyama shoots him a glare that would strip paint off a car. Hinata mouths, “What?” at him and Kageyama just turns up his nose and looks off in the other direction.

It is going to be that kind of night. Great. Hinata tries not to let it get to him. An hour and a half on the Shinkansen, all to watch Kageyama pout and sulk about… who knows what? No, thank you! Especially since just saying the words “Olympic selection camp” leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He smiles broadly at Miya and continues the mindless chatter because it seems to annoy Kageyama and that soothes Hinata’s intense jealousy.

It feels harmless. The same sort of tit-for-tat bickering they always have. When Miya invites himself to tag along with their plans to get food, Hinata doesn’t discourage it and Kageyama looks ready to commit a violent murder but doesn’t veto it. After all, what are they supposed to say? That Miya-san is about to third wheel it on their first date in four weeks? Kageyama probably doesn’t want his personal life openly discussed in the national team locker room.

“I hear you’re going to Brazil,” Miya says over dinner. “When do you leave?”

“Not for months still! April.”

He whistles. “What’s the holdup? Just go!”

“Well, I’d like to know more of the language … and not completely humiliate myself by making stupid mistakes on a beach court.”

Miya looks starry-eyed as he says, “Beach volleyball! Ahhhh this is such an amazing idea, Shoyo-kun. You make me feel like I shouldn’t have gone to college. Training on the beach! You’re going to come back with such a tan! Say—you need to tell me if it’s true that people over there wear those tiny little swimsuits, even the men!”

Hinata laughs nervously. “I don’t think they wear them to play beach volleyball, at least.”

“Oh?” A grin and a wink. “Maybe you’ll end up wearing them. I can see that.”

It doesn’t slip Hinata’s notice that they have been at three wrinkles for a solid twenty minutes, or that Kageyama has ordered curry with pork cutlet and a soft-boiled egg on top. His favorite. His comfort food. He ordered that, and he is barely picking at it.

The three wrinkles relax with a startled blink when Kageyama catches him watching.

“How was practice?” Hinata asks instead of what he really wants to ask. He knows enough to know he will never get a truthful answer out of Kageyama while Miya-san is with them.

…Whichever Miya this is. He still doesn’t know.

“Fine,” Kageyama grunts. Two notches are forming at the end of each eyebrow, although Kageyama seems to be trying to stay calm and relaxed.

At least until Miya slaps him heavily on the back and tells Hinata, “Don’t mind him, he’s upset because he was playing right wing all day.”

“Oh…”

Hinata knows it’s true just from how Kageyama looks. He flinches. The wrinkles on the bridge of his nose relax fully. This is a silly thing to be ashamed of, but Hinata knows how Kageyama feels about playing setter.

It’s silly, but he isn’t quite sure how silly it is. Would it just ruin Kageyama’s day? Or would Kageyama actually feel bad about playing in the Olympics as a wing spiker?

Hinata can’t tell, but he’d like to think his boyfriend isn’t that much of an idiot.

* * * * * *

As soon as the door to his apartment is closed, Kageyama is on top of him. Pressed back into the wall, Kageyama’s tongue down his throat, the setter’s hands desperately hunting for skin to make contact with.

It’s not a complete surprise. It took them a long time to get rid of Miya-san. Not before the topics of Kageyama as a spiker and Hinata’s complete lack of career prospects had been examined in depth, winding them both up in different ways.

Kageyama’s kisses are hungry and desperate. It almost feels like being yelled at. And he is technically pinning Hinata to the wall (not that Hinata minds that so much). Still… It feels like if they came up for air, they could seamlessly transition into an argument instead. The energy is weird. Hinata keeps trying to slow it down. He keeps trying to lure Kageyama out with sweet kisses. Touches across his shoulders and back. Instead of taming the hunger, these acts seem to annoy Kageyama. It’s only when he bites Hinata a little too hard and Hinata grabs a fistful of Kageyama’s hair and barks, “Knock it off!” that Kageyama calms down.

He’s panting. The sound is loud against Hinata’s ear. Much of Kageyama’s body weight is leaning against him. He seems to sag, then slide like he’s turned to jello. The only indication that Kageyama is still in control of his body is how softly he lands on his knees as he reaches the floor. Then he looks up at Hinata.

From the floor. On his knees. Roughly between Hinata’s legs.

Whoa…

Hinata isn’t sure what’s happening but he doesn’t like it. He slides down to the floor too and crosses his legs like a child in front of Kageyama. It’s the most unsexual thing he can think to do. Kageyama doesn’t look surprised, but he does look deflated. As if the moment they stopped, what was actually bothering him finally caught up with him.

Some of this Hinata can deduce. This Miya-san is the setter (which would make him Atsumu, right? Miya Atsumu was the setter … Hinata is almost certain). There is only one setter on a team, plus an alternate. Maybe while Kageyama was playing right, Miya-san was allowed to set. Hinata could see how Kageyama would read all kinds of signals into that.

“You usually like competing against strong players,” Hinata notes. “Especially strong setters. It usually fires you up.”

Kageyama shrugs. He’s staring at the floor, looking tired and stressed out. Hinata can’t help himself. He reaches up and runs his hands strongly through the other man’s hair, raking his fingers against Kageyama’s scalp as Kageyama closes his eyes and sighs.

“Sorry,” Kageyama grunts. “That guy … he just gets into my head.”

“Mmmm…”

“And it didn’t help that he was flirting with you.”

Hinata blinks at him. “No, he wasn’t!”

“A man tells you he’s picturing you in a Speedo and you think he’s not flirting with you?”

“Oh … um … okay, maybe I can see your point. That was pretty awkward.”

“You shouldn’t encourage it.”

“I was just being friendly!” Hinata protests. “Are you jealous?”

There’s not a hint of insecurity in Kageyama’s voice as he says, “Yes.” He’s just calmly stating a fact. He is jealous.

For some reason, Hinata really does not want Kageyama to catch on to how much this pleases him.

“That’s ridiculous,” he says. “He’s just a weird guy. He’s overly friendly with everyone.”

“He is a weird guy,” Kageyama agrees. “He’s a weird guy who, for some reason, wants everything that’s mine.”

Hinata can feel his eyebrows arch. He isn’t sure if he should argue or preen. Kageyama is not beyond fighting over things he does not want. It’s unclear how to read into being grouped together with playing as a setter. Hinata kind of wants to ask Kageyama to rank the things he thinks Miya-san is trying to steal from him in order of importance.

…But, no, that’s childish.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about a lot?” he says instead. “Winning third place at Nationals.”

He knows, without Kageyama having to say so, that Kageyama spent far more time thinking about how they didn’t win first place at Nationals. Hinata used to be like that too, but suffering through Kageyama’s Olympic angst—wanting to be supportive but also feeling desperate and irritated—has changed his perspective.

“What about it?”

“Third place means you won your last game.”

“Obviously,” Kageyama snorts. He sounds annoyed and the wrinkles on the bridge of his nose briefly tighten to confirm it. Without thinking about it, Hinata brushes his fingertips across them as if he could smooth them out that way.

Kageyama looks confused and flustered, but Hinata pays no attention. “Second place means losing your last game. Sometimes I wonder whether it would be better to take third place and leave with the thrill of victory or be ranked higher but your last moment at Nationals is a loss. The only teams that get to end Nationals with a win are first place and third place.”

“The best is obviously to not lose at all and get first place.”

“Sure, but if you can’t have that, which would you rather?”

Kageyama thinks about the question very seriously. He seems a little confused by it but also like he’s calming down as he ponders it.

“Silver,” he finally decides.

“Why?”

“Because I’ll forget the loss eventually, and silver means you’re better than bronze.”

“Right. So … which would you prefer: to be a setter and get no game time and therefore no Olympic medal or to play a bit in a different position and get a medal?”

He wasn’t sure if Kageyama was too tired or too embarrassed to glare at him properly, but either way his reaction was limp and heatless. He shrugs, “I’d rather be rejected as a setter than rejected because I was deployed in an unsuitable manner.”

“I don’t think that’s what’s happening. You’ve been invited to national team training camps regularly for years. It’s the same people coaching every time. It’s not like they are unaware of your status as a ‘genius setter.’”

He adds a little sarcastic hiss to the words “genius setter.” He can’t help it. The part of him that is dying of resentment that he isn’t even in these conversations for Olympic play can only be suppressed for so long. His affection, his love, for Kageyama can only go so far here.

Kageyama is studying him, suddenly focused—angst and introspection locked away from sight. His expression is flat, he’s suspiciously quiet. Hinata thinks about apologizing a couple of times, but there’s a chance Kageyama’s shift is about something else altogether.

Finally, Kageyama says, “Do you want to use the bath first?”

* * * * * *

All fresh and clean, Hinata lies on his side and stares out Kageyama’s window at the brick face of the neighboring building. He hates this. There’s a knot in his stomach full of frustration and disappointment—Kageyama is moving forward and he’s not. But then, he’s comfortable and warm, spending time with someone he really loves.

He wants to tell Kageyama that visiting is hard. Not just because of the distance. Not just because he will need to wake up at 4 am to get the 5:30 am train back so that he can meet his beach coach at 8 am. It’s hard because every good day Kageyama has is just a reminder of how slim Hinata’s chances are of ever catching up.

He appreciates that Kageyama is having a bit of a hard time with things right now, and he does want to be supportive … but, at the same time, Kageyama is only having a hard time because he’s impossibly stubborn and has ridiculous standards. By any sane person’s rationale, things are going well for Kageyama.

Hinata wonders what would happen if he pointed that out.

And then he wonders if Kageyama will lose interest in him when there’s no more meaningful volleyball to play against each other.

He closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep as he hears Kageyama come back from the bath. There’s a pause—movement halting and perhaps Hinata can feel the stare. But he won’t break. He’ll stay “asleep” and then he won’t run the risk of ruining things between them.

The bed shifts as Kageyama sits down on it. Hinata just keeps repeating to himself you’re asleep, you’re asleep, you’re asleep…

He tries not to startle as Kageyama lies down next to him and slides his arm around his waist. It’s rare that Kageyama wants to spoon. Or rather… it’s rare that Kageyama admits that he wants to spoon. Hinata must have fooled him.

Rarer still is the way Kageyama kisses the back of his shoulder before settling down.

It takes Hinata a long time to fall asleep for real.

* * * * * *

It’s a tickle under his nose that wakes him up. Kageyama’s jet black hair, clean and soft from his bath, brushes against him. At some point in the night, he’d rolled over and Kageyama just shifted to continue cuddling up against him. He was like this when he was sleepy—unguarded and openly affectionate. Hinata likes these moments the best.

He shifts onto his back, folds one hand behind his head and is surprised to find Kageyama follow the movements of his body—shifting as he shifted, moving in effortless subconscious complement until he is back tucked against Hinata in this new configuration.

Hinata lets two fingers wander through Kageyama’s hair before turning his attention to the ceiling, sparing a quick glance at his phone to confirm what his body seemed to know. 4:00. He has to get up soon.

He can’t help mulling over the night before. Kageyama is bad at apologies. Meaningful ones at least. He is fine when it comes to routine apologies—missed tosses, brushing against someone accidentally, being late to meet up. But he sucks at actually apologizing over anything more serious than that. Towards the end, it seemed like it might have occurred to Kageyama that he was basically whining and sulking about not having a career-defining moment exactly the way he wanted it at nineteen. It might have occurred to him the heroic patience he was forcing Hinata to exert. He might be sorry about it.

But Hinata doesn’t expect him to say it.

It was easy to convince himself not to be mad. It was less easy to convince himself to be comfortable with having a front row seat to watching someone else live the life he wants. Logically, he knows it is unfair to blame Kageyama for that…

But he may have been flirting with Miya Atsumu a bit too. Just a little… just because it seemed to annoy Kageyama.

Okay … because it seemed to upset him.

He rubs his face with his hand and groans. Then he covers his mouth and listens to the silence. It is too quiet. Kageyama isn’t much of a snorer, but Hinata can usually hear his breathing when he is sleeping. Hinata lifts his head and glances down. Kageyama’s eyes are closed but so is his mouth. He has no expression but his features are not slack or relaxed.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

“No, I’m not,” Kageyama replies. He yawns and stretches as if to emphasize that point.

“Did I wake you up? I’m sorry…”

Kageyama grumbles something he can’t hear—probably “moron”—and drags Hinata down until they are face to face with the covers thrown over their heads. Hinata catches only a hint of dark eyes as the tiny bit of moonlight is shut out. He feels Kageyama’s lips on his before his eyes adjust to the darkness.

These are the best kisses. Slow, nudging mouths open rather than pressing them together. Warm and wet. Hinata’s body tingles, and he doesn’t mind the taste of morning breath as much as he should.

“I have to get up soon,” Hinata whispers at the weight and heat of Kageyama’s body. He worries if he moves around too much he might poke Kageyama in the eye.

“You have time.”

“Like 15 minutes!”

“That’s plenty.”

“Umm. I’m sorry, you might like sitting in dried lube for several hours but I will need a shower if we fool around now.”

Kageyama tsch-s and, Hinata imagines, probably rolls his eyes. He’s crawling down Hinata’s body and dragging the covers with him. The cool air rushes across Hinata’s as his face and naked chest are exposed. It isn’t a surprise when Kageyama tugs at the waistband of his shorts, but he yelps anyway.

Kageyama’s mouth is warm and wet. It engulfs him before he can argue against it. Of course, his cock is interested, but his cock is usually curious about things in the morning when he’s just woken up. He groans and lets his head fall back. The rubbing feeling of Kageyama’s lips as he bobs his head up and down is so clear in his mind, while the wet, suckage beyond slowly melts his brain out from under him. Within minutes, he is panting. The physical feelings and the emotional feelings are difficult to sort from one another. His body craves it—not just the pleasure, but the closeness, all the exploring touches, the sensation of being tasted and savored. At the same time, this sort of thing always makes him feel incredibly shy. Even though he’s done arguably worse to Kageyama. It’s still a bit unbelieavable to him that Kageyama would suck his cock. Most of the other things they do, it’s obvious what Kageyama gets out of it, but this… this bliss … it isn’t selfless, really, it’s indulgent in ways Hinata has trouble understanding.

He moans Kageyama’s name and can’t help the pop in his hips. The wetness on the outside echoes the wetness building on the inside. There’s no other way to describe it—rich, hot, juices swelling. Blood pumping at a furious pace, rushing in, filling and against the boundaries of his body. He feels the sweat between his back and the bedsheets. His fingers are in Kageyama’s hair, his hand might be a fist. It’s beautiful torture and then he comes.

It feels like the only polite thing to do is reciprocate. Hinata wants to, but also doesn’t want to move and also needs to move a lot very very soon.

Kageyama doesn’t seem to mind. He looks smug. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand then slides off the bed—dragging the covers halfway with him so that they spill out over the floor and Hinata feels exposed and completely ruined.

“Come on,” Kageyama says. “You have enough time for a cup of coffee, probably.”

Hinata decides that actually Kageyama may be great at apologies after all.

Chapter Text

Kageyama’s name appears in big, bold letters on his phone’s screen. He’s calling him. Hinata has only just gotten back from the gym—well, a 3-mile run and the gym that is. His mother isn’t around, his sister is in school. The house is quiet.

And Kageyama is calling him.

Kageyama rarely texts more than single-word responses and he almost never calls. The only time Hinata can ever remember Kageyama calling is when they were trying to meet up and having trouble finding each other. Those calls are gruff barks of “Where are you?” followed by many rounds of “idiot” and “hurry up.”

This is obviously not that. The first thing that comes to mind is maybe Hinata left something behind from before.

“Hello?” he answers.

“…Hey.”

Okay, not that either. Kageyama sounds … hesitant.

“Is everything okay?”

The surprise is evident in his voice as Kageyama answers, “Yes? Uh … why would you ask?”

“You’re calling.”

“…Yes?”

“You never call.”

“Oh…” Something is rustling in the background. Is he alone? He sounds alone. Hinata can’t hear any voices. He sits down on the couch.

“Well…” Kageyama continues. “It seemed unfair to make you come here all the time. So I called.”

It’s always a little weird when Kageyama tries to show care and consideration. Hinata doesn’t know if it’s also awkward for Kageyama or if it’s just that Kageyama so rarely shows care and consideration that it feels weird because you don’t expect it. Hinata lies back on the couch and picks the first thing—the only thing, in fact—he can think of that Kageyama would want to talk about enough to call.

“How was training camp today?”

“Awful,” Kageyama replies. The anger in his voice feels directed at himself. “I sucked.”

Hinata grits his teeth and strengthens his resolve enough to mumble, “I’m sorry… do you want to talk about it?”

It’s a relief when Kageyama says, “No.” Relief that is short-lived because Kageyama adds, “You know what I want to talk about? Your cock.”

Hinata swears his voice hasn’t cracked since his second year at Karasuno. “WHAT?” He squawks.

“I want to talk about your cock and what it looks like in my hand.”

“Kage—“

“It flushes purple at the head sometimes when I squeeze it. What does that feel like for you?”

In kind of a panic, Hinata checks the volume on his phone. Then he cups it close to his ear to keep any sound from escaping.

“Kageyama! I could have had you on speaker!!”

“Did you?”

“…No—“

“Good, then tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“How does it feel when I squeeze it?”

“Umm… good?”

“Yeah?”

“… uh … yeah, of course.”

“Does it feel better than when I play with your balls?”

Hinata is certain that he has never heard Kageyama talk this much on any subject ever. Not even volleyball.

“Uhhhhh…”

“Are you alone right now? At home?”

“Yeah?”

“Then relax, stupid.”

“Well, it’s just I’m not super comfortable talking—“

“Did you like how I sucked you off before?”

What a question! Of course, he did. But he couldn’t say anything like that, and it was clear Kageyama expected him to talk back. To say something more than “Uh-huh.” Did Kageyama want him to talk about his hand? His mouth? He could maybe do that…

“Um. Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“… Yeah…”

“Yeah, you liked how I sucked your cock?”

His ears feel hot. What is he blushing for? No one else can hear Kageyama and Kageyama can’t see him.

“Yeah,” he says again, coughing and clearing his throat.

“What was the best part of me sucking your cock?”

Now he’s just finding excuses to work the word “cock” into sentences. But making Hinata think about it is making Hinata hard. “Um … all of it?” Kageyama’s frustrated sigh makes him panic and he quickly adds, “You know we have video calls now…”

The line is silent. If he strains, he thinks he can hear Kageyama breathing. He doesn’t seem to have hung up on him. Oh man, he might have fucked this up. The silence stretches and Hinata sits up, pulls his phone away from his ear to quickly check they’re still connected, his sound is still on, he still has four bars—

“I like imagining what you look like more than a grainy, poorly lit look at the underside of your chin from Facetime,” Kageyama finally says.

Hinata’s relief is palpable. He collapses, back on the couch, and stares up at the ceiling. “Do you think about me a lot, Kageyama?”

“I think about how much you suck a lot,” Kageyama snaps with his typical huffiness.

“As I recall, I was not the one sucking last time.”

He swears he can hear Kageyama laugh under his breath. He’s convinced of it. Kageyama might have a point, he thinks. He bites his lip. There is something really amazing about trying to fill in the blanks. To see as much through Kageyama’s words as he can with his eyes. To create a fantasy Kageyama that lives in his head as a source of pleasure.

“What are you wearing?” Hinata asks.

“Why?”

“I need to construct a mental picture too.”

“Track pants and this sweater.”

“Which sweater?”

“I dunno a normal one.”

“What color, dummy?”

“…kind of cream, I guess?”

“Crew neck?”

Finally, Kageyama’s annoyance outweighs his bewilderment. “Do you want to have phone sex or do you want a readout of my outfit?”

“I’d definitely prefer actual sex.”

“Well, that’s not possible right now.”

“You could come here,” Hinata suggests. “This weekend maybe?”

“Can’t. Besides, where would we even have sex? In your house? In front of your mom and sister?”

The picture that puts in his head makes his balls retreat up into his body. “Ew,” he whines. “Way to kill a boner.”

“Just saying.” Kageyama’s voice is level and nonchalant. It’s amazing how he can just turn this dirty side of himself off and on like that. Even having lost his erection, Hinata still feels flushed and jittery. Kageyama’s words are like worms twisting in his ears. He wants to squirm and scratch them out.

“It will be this way when you’re in Brazil too,” Kageyama adds. “You better get used to it.”

The comment makes Hinata pause. He can’t help examining it over and over again in his head. Kageyama is thinking about how they will stay connected while he’s in Brazil. Kageyama is thinking about how a long distance relationship will work.

Kageyama is thinking of how a long distance relationship will work and Kageyama is jealous when other men flirt with Hinata.

He finds himself smiling so broadly his cheeks ache. His heart swells and swells and if Kageyama was actually here, Hinata’s pretty sure he would cry the second he made eye contact with the setter. He rolls around on the couch and tries very hard not to squeal.

“Hello?” Kageyama sounds confused, perhaps even concerned.

“Nothing! I’m here!”

There’s a skeptical pause. Hinata can feel Kageyama’s expression through the phone. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait! Weren’t you going to tell me how you were going to suck me off?”

“No,” Kageyama sounds thoughtful. “You’ve ruined it. Don’t do that next time.”

* * * * * *

“I’d watch you jerk off.”

Kageyama says this so casually that he makes it feel a million times dirtier. Hinata imagines him in the grocery store, browsing the aisle with other customers, holding his phone to his ear and talking like that, completely oblivious to the scandalized housewives around him.

He doesn’t think Kageyama is actually in public, but he wouldn’t put it past him either.

“Uh? Okay … do you want to switch—?”

“No, I want to talk about it first.”

He can hear the smile in Kageyama’s voice. Son of a bitch is getting off on torturing him.

They don’t always talk about sex during their phone dates. That is a relief for Hinata because hearing Kageyama say things like“I’d watch you jerk off” still makes him twist and squirm and panic course through his body—what if someone else heard? What if people knew he had heard those words? That he held them in his mind and translated them into thoughts?

“You’re so impatient. I bet you’d look real desperate. Like that face you make when someone tells you that you suck at volleyball. Like a kicked puppy. I bet you make that face and that your eyes get all watery—“

Hinata doesn’t know how to respond to that. Instinctively, he wants to argue. It feels like an insult; he should argue about it. But he’s supposed to play along, “not ruin it,” as Kageyama had instructed.

“Would you like that?”

It wasn’t much, a hitch in Kageyama’s breathing maybe. The slightest sound, but still detectable and fascinating. Oh… Is that it? Hinata thinks. Is that all I need to do?

“Yeah…” Kageyama murmurs. Hinata closes his eyes and imagines what Kageyama’s face might look like on the other side. He’s turned on, isn’t he? Hinata has invested a lot of time in learning all Kageyama’s expressions but in particular how he looks during sex.

“What do you do while you’re watching?” he asks.

“Just watch.”

“Oh, so you expect me to perform for you?” Hinata teases.

Kageyama sucks on his teeth and Hinata carefully reminds himself: stop ruining it.

“Don’t act like you weren’t obsessed with me watching you all through high school. Did you see my receive? How about that block?” Kageyama sighs.

“Yeah, but I just wanted you to see how much I improved. I don’t think my technique jerking off is in question.”

Kageyama laughs. Actually laughs. It’s magic every time. “And what is your technique?” he asks.

Oh God… He knows what Kageyama wants him to do and he doesn’t think he can. The heat is back on his cheeks. How to describe it? “Uhhhh… well…”

Kageyama hums. It’s an encouraging sound but tempered by Hinata’s suspicions that Kageyama enjoys Hinata’s suffering and stumbling through dirty talk even more than the perversity of phone sex.

“I like to grab it and … um…”

“If you make sound effects for this, I will never speak to you again.”

“That’s not fair!” Hinata cries out. “This is really hard.”

“Oh, is it?”

“Shut up!”

Another laugh, more of a chuckle.

“You are the absolute worst. Can’t I just show you?”

“No.”

Hinata whines.

“I want to know how you pleasure yourself so that I know how to please you.”

This sends a shiver up Hinata’s spine. It’s so … Hinata doesn’t know how to explain it. There’s nothing particularly dirty about any of those words, but it’s just so… He remembers how Kageyama looked on his knees in front of him and feels his cock tighten. Suddenly, his clothes don’t seem to fit right.

“Why would you want to do th—” No, he means that to be self-deprecating but instead it sounds judgy. He stops and restarts. “Would you want to do that?”

Kageyama is very serious as he says, “Of course.”

This is beginning to border on the surreal. “I’m not that complicated…” Hinata replies weakly.

“You’re impatient, I know. I’d need to go slow.”

Hinata closes his eyes and slides his hand down his pants. He touches himself just with his fingertips. Contacts so light he can feel his skin under his touch strain, eager for more. He goes slow partly to prove Kageyama wrong.

“You’re one to talk,” he mutters. “…How would you start?”

Kageyama hums a single tone as he thinks about this. “I love how your dick feels in my hand. How wet it gets even before you cum. I want to lick you off my fingers and know you’re watching me.”

Oh God… Hinata shudders. He pulls his shorts down urgently. He can’t bear to be contained any longer. The exposure feels good. He somehow manages to wiggle out of his underwear without stopping his stroking. He’s nice and hard now. He finds himself staring down at the hand moving over his cock and trying to figure out how he’d describe it next time he’s asked to.

“Do you like it when I spread my legs for you?” Kageyama asks.

Hinata bites his lips so hard he’s amazed he doesn’t draw blood. The groan still manages to escape. The reverberation muffled enough to give it a strained quality, but it’s very noticeable. Hinata doesn’t have to respond more than that, but he still manages to croak out, “Yes.”

“If I were there, would you bend me over and use me?”

Hinata’s hand speeds up and then slows down. He’s hurdling towards climax too fast. How is it possible that Kageyama can say such things without a hint of intonation? Flat and effortless as if this is a perfectly normal, perfectly boring conversation. As if they are talking about the weather.

He shakes his head furiously, then remembers that Kageyama can’t see that. “No.”

“No?”

“Not use. Couldn’t.” His heavy breaths make it difficult to speak in full sentences. “Like the way you look when you’re cumming too much.”

Across the line, Kageyama moans. “You’re going to make me cum?”

“Yes. Always.”

“What are you doing right now?” Kageyama asks. Unlike the filthy things he’s said before there’s a certain urgency to these words, like he really desperately needs to know the answer right now.

“I’m … stroking myself … thinking about how you look when I’m…”

“…Fucking me?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a sharp sound on the other end of the line. A cry and a huff of breath crashing right over it. Hinata hates that he can’t see it, but needing to search every sound for clues has heightened the suspense and also his arousal.

“I want to touch you so bad,” he admits.

“Yeah?” Kageyama answers. He sounds calm, but curious. “And where would you touch me?”

Hinata speeds up the rhythm of his stroking. He’s close now and doesn’t really want to have to think about a short prepared speech. Kageyama seems to understand this, so instead of waiting for Hinata to answer, he provides helpful suggestions.

“I like it when you grip my hips.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Or the inner thigh. I forget how strong your grip is sometimes. It always takes me a little bit by surprise and that’s exciting. I swear, you’re a tiny runt with big hands and a thick cock. Such a freak.”

Hinata laughs in a breathy, slightly tortured way. Half embarrassed, half flattered Kageyama likes the size of his cock. He looks down at it as he jerks off. It’s nicely flushed and sweating with pre-cum. It seems normal-sized to him, even swollen and aching as it is. His hand, too. It’s a bit wider than Kageyama’s but otherwise normal sized. The setter has long fingers and everything that made Kageyama grow taller and longer seemed to get lost in Hinata and make him broader instead.

“God, you have the most perfect ass,” Kageyama continues. “I think about that sometimes when you’re fucking me. All those jumps. How strong those muscles are. How much force there is—”

“Stop. Not even you think about volleyball during sex.”

“Sometimes,” Kageyama admits.

“My God, you’re sick. Also, stop making me laugh. I’m really close!”

It is so strange to want to cum and laugh at the same time. He needs to focus. He needs to see Kageyama in his mind. How would he be? How would he look? On all fours, Hinata decides. Naked, on all fours, looking over his shoulder, knees spread, maybe those long elegant fingers holding himself open—

Hinata groans.

Chapter Text

“I want to do that thing more often,” Hinata says.

Kageyama is predictably coy, although Hinata is sure he knows what he is referring to. He just wants to force Hinata into the humiliation of saying it outright.

“What thing?”

“You know what thing!”

“We’ve done a lot of things. How should I know what ‘thing’ you mean now, dumbass?”

Hinata pulls the phone away, growls and grumbles, “This is ridiculous.”

The response from the phone is classic Kageyama. He yells, “What was that?” with the force of genuine anger as if Hinata had insulted his mother.

“I…” Hinata flinches and feels his shoulders scrunch up to his ears. “I like it when you…”

“What?”

Then he tries saying it really fast, but that doesn’t work either. Kageyama—now calm—simply replies, “I’m sorry I didn’t hear that.”

“Come on … I just finished washing all the stickiness off my hands. What more do you want from me?”

“Oh? Are we done then? That’s it? You’re satisfied?”

Sometimes Kageyama can be a real asshole. “You know that isn’t what I meant. It’s just … it’s hard, I don’t know what to say, but I’m trying and I thought it was really good this time.”

Kageyama makes a non-committal noise. The sort of sound Hinata is able to wrestle from him when he begrudingly admits that Hinata has done something right. It’s kind of annoying how the joy of having Kageyama’s approval washes away all Hinata’s irritation. He feels like it shouldn’t because Kageyama can really be an asshole sometimes and it’s proper to hold that against him.

And yet Hinata never seems to be able to.

“Wasn’t it good this time?” Hinata asks hopefully.

“…It was fine.”

He can see it so clearly—the way Kageyama would fold his arms over his chest, the way he would turn up his nose and look off to the side, puckering his lips into an indignant pout. He doesn’t need to be with him to see it. He knows that look so well.

“So then why can’t you give me a break and just talk normally?”

Kageyama sighs, but Hinata knows he’s won.

“Honestly,” the setter says. “It isn’t even that dirty. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Ah-ha! So you do know what ‘thing’ I’m talking about!”

“Dumbass, of course I do.”

Hinata shifts his phone to his other side and rolls over. “Anything is dirty if you go into enough detail about it.”

“So you can stick your tongue in my ass but you can’t say a couple of words?”

“They’re completely different things!”

Kageyama snorts, “Whatever, you’re ridiculous.”

But they are! Hinata can’t really explain it well. When he’s having sex with Kageyama he is game to try anything if it seems like it might cause pleasure. He can just follow his instincts without thinking too hard about what he’s doing. And when Kageyama responds positively—moans and grinds up against him, calls his name with a shuddered gasp, runs his hands through Hinata’s hair or his nails down his back—Hinata feels high. He’s dizzy and happy and any embarrassment or shyness he might have felt evaporates.

Talking dirty makes him feel way more exposed. He has to think about what he’s going to say, which expands the opportunities for rejection. He can’t just follow what feels good, he needs to think about it and make decisions. He could pick the wrong act to talk about, but he could also pick the wrong words to describe them. Or he could try a sexy voice and Kageyama might laugh at him. Even a short sentence has so many choices where he could be rejected.

Kageyama’s words are soft in his ear as he speaks again, “Do you like it that way, more than the other way?”

Hinata is quick to reassure. “I like both, but for different reasons.”

The line goes silent for a while. Hinata fiddles with the hem of his top sheet and wonders how long after phone sex he can wait to change his bedsheets. Certainly, it’s not as bad as leaving sex sheets in place after actual sex? Actual sex means the sweat of two or more people.

Finally Kageyama asks—a hint of curiosity coming through, “What reasons?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll call me an idiot and make fun of me.”

“I won’t.”

Hinata laughs to himself because it sounds a lot like Kageyama is gritting his teeth as he says that. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“You promise what?”

A little growl rolls over the line. “I promise I won’t make fun of you.” Then after a beat, he adds, “Dumbass.”

Eh … good enough, Hinata figures. “Both feel great, but … I don’t know … I feel really connected to you when I’m bottoming—”

“Oh, look at that. He said it.”

It isn’t quite mockery, but Hinata can imagine that Kageyama is rolling his eyes. Maybe with a smile. Or maybe not. “You promised,” he reminds him.

“You realize it feels that way because we are literally connected?”

“Yes,” Hinata replies, a bit testily. “Is that why you like it?”

“No,” The setter is firm and decisive on the matter. As if the sentiment needed to be stomped out before it could take root. “I like it because of 9,000 nerve endings.”

Hinata laughs. “Okay, sure, that too.”

The pause between them is comfortable. Hinata suddenly feels quite content. He shifts around on his back and rearranges the pillows on his bed so that they’re fluffy like the ones at Kageyama’s. He tries to imagine that he’s in Tokyo, in that big bed in Kageyama’s hilariously tiny apartment, having this conversation in person.

“What’s the other reason?” Kageyama asks.

“Hm?”

“You said you liked it both ways but for different reasons. What’s the other reason?”

“Oh…” Hinata breathes. “Because you like it so much. I really like how much you enjoy it when I’m on top. I guess I get off a bit on making you cum like that.”

Kageyama hums in agreement. Then he draws a quick breath and changes the topic. “Oh—by the way, I’m coming home next week.”

Hinata sits bolts upright in bed, which in retrospect feels a bit dramatic. “Really?”

“Yeah, Miwa is coming up to see our parents and the summer festival. I thought I would too.”

“Oh…” Hinata slides back down on his elbows and tries not to pout. “It’s like a family thing then?”

“… Yes, but you can come with, dumbass.”

“You mean with your family?”

Judging by the sound of his voice, Kageyama is getting a little annoyed at Hinata’s inability to instantly understand him. “With my sister and her boyfriend. To the festival.”

“Oh—Oh!” He smiles and bites his lip. “Like a double date?”

“I’m hanging up now—”

“No, no, no… Come on, don’t be mean to me! How am I supposed to know whether you’re asking me to come be introduced to your family, or whether you just want to hook up afterward? I need clarity.”

Kageyama sounds confused, “You’ve already met my whole family,” he points out. Because, of course, Kageyama would be confused by the idea that Hinata needed to be reintroduced as his boyfriend.

“Right, but when I meet you at the festival—”

“I don’t want to have to find your dumb ass in a crowd. Even with your ridiculous hair, you’re too short and hard to spot. Come to my house instead.”

“Okay—But! When I get there … am I your friend from high school or…?”

Kageyama sighs. “Miwa knows.”

“…Does she?”

Kageyama rarely, if ever, mentions his older sister and from that Hinata has assumed they don’t talk often, but maybe that isn’t the case. He’s met Miwa only a handful of times in passing. She is as unreadable as her baby brother. Maybe they gossip all the time. Maybe Kageyama calls his sister after he calls Hinata and gives her a full report.

“Yes, of course she does.” Then after a pause, Kageyama adds, “I don’t know about my parents.”

“That’s okay!” Hinata says too cheerfully. Partly, he doesn’t want to discourage what’s sounding more and more like a real date. And partly because he hasn’t figured out exactly how and when to introduce the idea to his mother and Natsu that his high school best friend is actually his high school boyfriend. He was hoping to put it off at least until after Brazil. If their romance survived Brazil, he would tell them then.

“… So … Do you want to go?” Kageyama asks.

“Can I hold your hand?”

“No,” Kageyama says sharply.

“Fine, can we at least wear yukata and sit next to each other to watch the fireworks?”

“Did you think Miwa and I were going to make you sit away from us, dumbass?”

Hinata chuckles, “You might!”

* * * * * *

Kageyama does not let Hinata hold his hand. But he doesn’t snap at him or do that thing where it feels like he’s trying to scalp Hinata with his bare hands. Instead, he swats Hinata’s touch away and acts like he doesn’t notice. This does not stop Hinata from trying to hold his hand. He ends up dragging Kageyama from stall to stall just so that he has an excuse to reach for him.

Kageyama’s yukata is a blue and white chessboard print. It seems like the kind of thing an old man would wear, but also … strangely sexy? The way the fabric crosses over his chest … it shows nothing, but the looseness of it makes it seem like it might slide open. Like he could slip a hand under the many folds and unwrap Kageyama like a present.

Hinata wonders if Kageyama is wearing anything under it.

His own outfit is a similar blue with a stenciled design of constellations in white and gold on it. He has tied it snugly with a cream-colored obi and is wearing little else in the summer heat.

He doesn’t normally dress traditionally just to go to festivals. A t-shirt and a pair of shorts feels more appropriate. About the only thing this get-up shares with his normal outfit are the sandals, which are simple and functional with rubber soles. But Hinata finds he really likes dressing up today. It doesn’t feel silly at all. It feels kind of nice.

Especially because Kageyama looks so good.

The one thing they must do is go see the Taiko drummers and wave at Saeko-neesan as obnoxiously as possible. At least that is Hinata’s plan, Kageyama won’t wave. That is non-negotiable. He will nod his head and make a polite—if casual—greeting. But he will not wave and cheer and holler to get Saeko-neesan’s attention.

Especially not in front of his own neesan.

Then they get cotton candy and walk around the grounds. It’s so simple and so nice. It’s the season for making wishes and as they stroll past thousands of fluttering tanzaku in every color imaginable, Hinata tries to decide what his wish should be.

His first immediate thought is of Brazil. Let Brazil go well. Let it be the path to getting stronger, to catching up with Kageyama.

But then he thinks … Olympic selection camp ended weeks ago and Kageyama has not mentioned it. Hinata won’t bring it up—especially when Kageyama seems to be in a good mood otherwise—but he can’t help thinking about it. Not making the National Team again changes the calculus considerably. Kageyama is still a pro, but without international play, his schedule will be much lighter. Most of the V-League teams are headquartered around the two largest metropolitan areas—Tokyo and Osaka. They play throughout the country, but very few cities have enough volleyball fans to support a dedicated local professional team. If Hinata joins a Tokyo-based team too, they could live together. They could get a two-bedroom apartment to keep up appearances, people would comment on how neat and clean Hinata’s “bedroom” always is, and how kind it was that he never minded giving it up for the occasional guest. They could go on morning runs together and split up chores and help manage each other’s careers…

Then he thinks … if Kageyama can’t make the Olympic team, then maybe Hinata isn’t as far behind as he assumes. He can still train in beach, still build his skills at doing everything, but maybe he doesn’t need two years in Brazil…

Hinata yelps as out of nowhere Kageyama punches him sharply in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You were spacing out, dumbass.”

Kageyama’s fingers twirl around a strand of Hinata’s cotton candy, tearing off a huge chunk that melts in his mouth before Hinata can stop him.

“Hey!”

Hinata reaches to steal back an equal amount from Kageyama’s snack, only Kageyama dodges—once, twice, something of a weird dance breaks out between them. Kageyama is grinning, pleased the way bullies are when they have all the power.

Frustrated, Hinata rocks onto his toes and moves his hands right towards the cotton candy so that Kageyama will move left. Left and into Hinata’s embrace. An embrace where Hinata can press their mouths together and lick the sugar off Kageyama’s lips and tongue with short, teasing flicks.

Kageyama seems genuinely surprised. Like he’s caught between multiple reactions—anger, desire, embarrassment. In the split second of indecision, Hinata rips off a chunk of Kageyama’s cotton candy and shoves it in his mouth, not caring the way his cheeks must puff out just before he swallows.

For good measure, he sticks out his tongue as Kageyama settles into a specific mood: unamused.

“You’re such a child,” Kageyama remarks.

“Then you are the jackass literally stealing candy from a baby.”

With a snort, Kageyama’s hand is on the back of his neck, steering him deeper into the crowd and towards another distraction. For just a moment, he steps to the side and draws Hinata under his arm, grip loosening and fingers sliding down Hinata’s skin. Touches across his shoulder and down his back before Kageyama finally lets go.

They could be like this forever, Hinata thinks. He wants to get stronger. He wants to play more volleyball. With Kageyama. Against Kageyama. But does that mean pro? Does that mean the National Team? Does that mean Brazil? Plenty of amazing players from high school have moved on to other things. Maybe he could too.

Kageyama is frowning at him. Not his standard disapproving scowl, but the rarer thoughtful look Hinata sometimes gets when Kageyama is genuinely concerned about something instead of just generally annoyed about everything. Hinata doesn’t know what to say. He can’t help thinking about it. Is he not supposed to be scared? It is easy to be ambitious when thinking about the future, but every day is a day closer to actually leaving.

For two years…

What if Kageyama finds someone else? What if they can’t make long distance work? What if he comes back only marginally better at volleyball and without a boyfriend? Would that have been worth it? Beach volleyball is a completely different sport, what if instead of making him better at indoor, it makes him worse? What if he can’t make it work like he assumes?

Is Brazil really necessary if Kageyama isn’t good enough to make the National Team?

He flinches under Kageyama’s stare. Then he points at a stall for yo-yo fishing and declares, “I bet I can hook more yo-yos than you!”

At first, it doesn’t seem to work. Kageyama looks unconvinced and tilts his head to the side. Then he glances over to the stall with the game. When he turns back, he’s grinning.

“You’re on.”

* * * * * *

At some point, it begins to seem like a good idea to get actual food instead of spun sugar and custard-filled koi pastries. The sun is setting and they’re mainly killing time before the fireworks cap off the day. They’ve found a boulder with facets flat and smooth enough to sit on like a make-shift bench. It’s under a tree and pulled back from the crowd.

By this point, Miwa and her boyfriend have ditched them officially. Something about finding a good place for the fireworks and texting their location once they have.

Kageyama’s obi is a little loose and his yukata has slid open enough to expose a narrow tract of naked skin from his throat to his collarbone.

Hinata licks his lips and pretends that’s about the yakisoba he has in his hands.

It does not help that Kageyama is eating takoyaki and it’s hot and he shoves it in his mouth too quickly and then has to breathe in and out with his mouth open to cool it before the doughy goo burns the roof of his mouth too badly. Hinata cannot help watching this. It is ridiculously entertaining. He can’t help loving these little touches of fallibility in Kageyama. The Kageyama who eats way too fast and almost chokes on his food. The Kageyama who needs to consult a dictionary on his phone because he can’t read kanji above an elementary level. The Kageyama who mixed up dishwashing soap and dishwasher soap and accidentally created an unwanted foam party for Karasuno during their second-year training camp. The Kageyama who is just a little bit stupid about everything that’s not volleyball, to the point where Hinata has always scored just a tiny bit better than him on every subject, no matter how bad.

“Wha?” Kageyama says—mouth full of battered octopus.

“Nothing,” Hinata replies, smiling to himself. He can’t help it.

Kageyama looks like he wants to say something else, but his phone interrupts them. The screen lights up with a conclusion from caller ID—Hibarida Fuki.

…Why does that name seem familiar to him?

Hinata can’t exactly place it, but he cannot fail to notice how Kageyama’s posture straightens. Or how he snatches the phone away like he’s hiding something. Without a word, he hands Hinata his takoyaki and walks out of earshot. He maybe looks back over his shoulder once—in the middle of a formal greeting to Hibarida Fuki—and makes some vague nod and corresponding hand gesture that Hinata deduces is supposed to mean something like “I’ll be right back.”

Hibarida Fuki…

…Hibarida-san—Oh shit! Hinata remembers. Hibarida-san is the coach of the Men’s National Team

He watches Kageyama pace back and forth just beyond the flow of foot traffic. He’s found a gap between the dango stand and goldfish scooping. He nervously adjusts his yukata and appears to be listening very carefully. Then there’s bowing. Deep bowing. Again and again. Each time Hinata feels a knot in his throat tighten.

He recognizes this feeling. This shame. Shame because he loves Kageyama so much, but he also wants him to fail. He wants him to fail so badly. He wants him to be human with limits to his abilities so that it doesn’t feel like it would take a million years for Hinata to catch up. He remembers the moment when they were first years and Kageyama asked him, “You intend to play at my level? Even if I’m the best in the world?” The idea of being the best in the world was shocking to Hinata. Nothing could have been further from his mind.

And now he is preparing to go to Brazil—knowing no one, having nothing, quite possibly courting disaster.

He wants to get better. He wants to catch up, but he just wishes Kageyama would slow down a little. Everything is always so fast and this time there’s no net for Hinata to get tangled up in if he jumps too far.

He wants Kageyama to fail, but he knows from his face, from the smile and softness of his eyes as he bobs up from his last deep bow—the joy, the relief, the contentment—that he hasn’t.

Kageyama is going to the Olympics. And Hinata is going to Brazil. They are locked in now, even if the outcomes are terrible for them both.

* * * * * *

By the time Kageyama walks back through the crowd, Hinata has managed to force a smile on his face and brushed the wetness from his eyes. Being selected for the National Team is a huge deal, he doesn’t want Kageyama to feel like he can’t be happy about it. He doesn’t want Kageyama to know that Hinata is so selfish his first thoughts are not happiness for Kageyama in this moment.

By the time he walks all the way back, Kageyama has stopped smiling. He sits down next to Hinata and takes his takoyaki. He starts eating again without a word, even as Hinata stares at him and waits for Kageyama to say the words that will kick off Hinata’s Oscar-winning performance for best supporting boyfriend. Hinata is practicing saying “I’m so happy for you” over and over in his head at different tones and with different emphasis, trying to pick the one he thinks sounds the best.

“What?” Kageyama finally asks when he seems sick of Hinata’s dumb staring. His mouth is full of gooey takoyaki. There are slivers of bonito flakes stuck to the edge of his lips that he licks away as he swallows.

What gives the game completely away for Hinata is that Kageyama looks slightly alarmed—shy and guilty as if caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing—whereas a normal Kageyama would be scowling at him. A normal Kageyama would have snapped What? rather than the soft, clueless way he said it.

“What did Hibarida-san want?” Hinata asks. Swinging gently between annoyance and adoration, he is careful to reveal neither in his voice.

“Oh…” Kageyama looks down at his takoyaki, as if thinking hard about which one to eat next. He shakes his head in this noncommittal way and then shrugs. “Nothing. Just some administrative stuff.”

That is so transparently a lie, Hinata cannot help but push on it. “He called you for administrative stuff at 8 o’clock at night?”

“Yeah… well, time difference.”

“Time difference?”

“Yeah…

“Miyagi and Tokyo are in the same timezone, Kageyama.”

“Yes, I know!” Kageyama snaps. “He wasn’t calling from Tokyo! He was calling from … Okinawa.”

“Okinawa?”

Kageyama nods very seriously.

“What is he doing in Okinawa?”

“I don’t know … umm … research.”

“Research?” Hinata replies incredulously.

“Yes … something about advanced nutrition in blue zones—I don’t know, we did not get into it.”

The space between them is awkward in a way they’ve never been awkward before. Ordinarily, when Kageyama backs off, Hinata is quick to challenge. But he doesn’t want to because he doesn’t want to hear Kageyama say the words, I’m playing on the National Team. He knows he will have to hear those words eventually, but he can’t hear them tonight. He still bears the shame of temptation. He nearly let his fear talk him out of catching up and he can’t tolerate the idea that Kageyama might somehow know—might somehow realize—that for a few hours, Hinata was seriously thinking he might love being with Kageyama more than their sport.

Kageyama’s phone lights up again and if it’s Jumbo Takarakuji calling to let Kageyama know he’s won hundreds of millions of yen, Hinata will literally toss the phone into the river.

“It’s Miwa,” Kageyama announces as he glances down at the device. “They found a spot. Let’s go.”

“Ah … sure.” Hinata tries not to sound annoyed. Better not to be annoyed, but he’s not sure he can manage that right now.

As he follows Kageyama through the crowd, Hinata keeps trying to talk himself into feeling like he should. He should be happy for Kageyama. He should feel motivated—fired up and more determined than ever to get stronger. He should be confident enough to replace his disappointment with determination. He used to have an unshakeable faith in his own abilities, even when his own abilities were pretty terrible. Why did getting better feel like losing that invincibility?

He didn’t notice Kageyama turn. He didn’t notice him reaching back. He only noticed when Kageyama’s hand squeezed his, just once, before the setter laced their fingers together.

Stop ruining it, Hinata reminded himself. 

Chapter Text

In addition to being tiny, Kageyama’s apartment is not well insulated and therefore cold in the winter. Not cold enough to be unsafe, not cold enough to see one’s breath in the air, but cold enough to feel the prickle of it against their naked skin. Cold enough for it to seep into the spine and make the idea of doing anything other than lounging around in bed, under the covers, warmed by shared body heat, impossible.

Hinata usually likes to get a run in before his day starts officially. As Kageyama yawns and gathers the thick duvet tighter around them, it’s clear that’s not going to happen. Instead, Hinata’s mind drifts towards other ways to burn calories. His hands slide down Kageyama’s back and settle on his naked ass. He can feel the sleep fade as Kageyama’s form becomes less pliant, not tense, not resisting, but sturdier and more aware. Before Kageyama has the wherewithal to argue Hinata pulls him up on top of him (he was halfway there to begin with) and kneads his ass with both hands.

Kageyama hums and yawns again. His dick twitches against Hinata’s inner thigh, but he doesn’t seem inclined to do anything about that yet. The covers shift off his shoulder as Hinata continues pushing him up and Kageyama makes an annoyed sound against Hinata’s ear.

“Won’t be cold if we get your heart rate up,” Hinata says.

He’s not sure Kageyama appreciates his insight here. Even as he starts teasing his hole with subtle brushes of his fingertips, Kageyama seems determined to remain “asleep.”

…That could be intentional. Some people fantasize about things like that.

It’s not on the list of sexual scenarios Kageyama has tortured Hinata with during their phone dates, so Hinata puts it out of his mind for the time being. Besides, it’s more fun to wiggle deeper into the mattress and enjoy Kageyama’s weight on top of him.

That is, until Kageyama punches him in the arm. It’s a solid wind-up that leads with the knuckles to create as much sting on impact as possible. Hinata yelps, hands naturally retreating back to the small of Kageyama’s back. Kageyama buries his face up against Hinata’s neck and pulls the covers back up as he settles down. It’s like he’s made his point.

But Hinata has never been one to give up and let Kageyama win at anything. He turns his head towards Kageyama and nibbles lightly on his ear, wiggling down to kiss his shoulder and neck, masking the movements of his hands with those kisses. They’re back on Kageyama’s ass, kneeding and groping, pressing down so that he can grind up against the setter and get the maximum friction.

He can feel Kageyama’s arousal, but he can also hear it in how he breathes.

Kageyama turns into the kisses and tries—unsurprisingly—to take control of them. His hunger makes it impossible to believe he’s still too sleepy to be bothered. He kisses like he’s going to eat Hinata alive. It makes Hinata gasp for air whenever he has an opportunity.

Hinata slides one hand between their legs and fumbles around until he’s managed to work his grip around both of them. This is one of his favorites—his first real discovery from their high school sleepovers. It feels so good when Kageyama thrusts into his hand and brushes his whole length alongside Hinata’s dick. It feels so good to stroke both of them at once. It gets urgent very quickly and soon enough Kageyama’s eyes are open, his pupils wide and unfocused and he’s growling like he resents Hinata’s ability to make him want it so much.

Hinata doesn’t say anything when the covers slide off Kageyama’s shoulders and Kageyama doesn’t notice. He doesn’t feel the need to point out every single time he’s right.

It takes a lot of effort to get Kageyama to stop—as nice as grinding against one another until their both spent and falling back asleep sounds, Hinata did not make do with weeks of virtual interactions to waste precious in-person time nostalgically revisiting some of their earliest sexual experiences together. “Hey,” he nudges Kageyama back. “Hurry up, get your bracelets.”

He calls them bracelets because he actually kind of hates calling them what they are—leather shackles—and because calling them bracelets seems to really annoy Kageyama in the most adorable way (always a plus).

The tip of Kageyama’s nose crinkles but he leans over and fishes their stuff out of the bottom drawer anyway. “A little complex for a morning fuck, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I tell people about you.”

That earns him another sharp punch in the arm, because Kageyama has no sense of humor, really.

Still worth it though.

He threads the metal chain through the headboard like normal and fastens the bracelets to Kageyama’s wrists while Kageyama is still on top of him—much to Kageyama’s confusion. The setter is bound to the headboard on his knees, instead of on his back, which is difficult and possibly a bit uncomfortable to balance. Hinata sets his hands on Kageyama’s hips, partly to keep him from shifting around and straddling Hinata—

Although … that’s a nice idea as well. It would force Kageyama to put his arms around Hinata’s neck and Hinata can’t help liking that picture: Kageyama riding him, leaning on him for support while Hinata thrusts up—

No, no, save that for another time, he thinks. He knows what he wants to do. He’s only slightly motivated to do it by revenge. It’s on the list of things Kageyama keeps bringing up on the phone. He brings it up and talks about it in explicit detail, while Hinata’s ears burn so hot he needs to check if his hair has caught on fire.

So he holds him in place while he kisses the base of his neck, the side of his face and finally whispers in Kageyama’s ear, “What’s that you’re always saying about being bent over and used?”

It’s funny how still Kageyama becomes. His eyes are opened wide and he is utterly motionless. Hinata’s not even sure he’s breathing. Well … that’s not a ‘no’… he thinks, flashing Kageyama a quick smile before ducking under the setter’s arm and shifting to the foot of the bed.

The chain pulls against the headboard, but again, Kageyama doesn’t say no. His shoulders shake with arousal and all the missed breaths he didn’t take when Hinata starts to prep him. Otherwise, he’s relaxed and opens easily. Hinata would probably feel a little more confident if he got a moan out of his efforts, but it’s still a bit of a mystery to him why his proud and noble King of the Court likes half of the dirty things he does in bed.

He knows he’s on the right path when what comes out of Kageyama’s mouth is not a moan, but a whine wrapped around his name, “Shoyo…”

Hinata takes his time. Partly, because Kageyama’s phone sex narrative is forever accusing him of being impatient. Partly, because the longer it takes to get to the actual fucking the more likely it is that Kageyama will say his name like that again. And he loves it when Kageyama does that. He loves it when all the pretenses drop and the Kageyama who pretends he doesn’t care, who constantly calls him stupid, who will not hold his goddamn hand in public is exposed for the liar he is. Hinata is not very complicated. He loves being loved.

He loves being loved by Kageyama most of all.

He pulls Kageyama back so that he only has two choices: try to hold his upper body up on core strength alone, or let himself drop and stay face down, ass up on the bed. Both are pretty hot, Hinata thinks. He suspects that Kageyama is probably stubborn enough to try to keep himself upright for a while.

He likes it when I grip his hips, Hinata thinks. His fingers stroke long circles across Kageyama’s prostate while his other hand tightens his grip. His rhythm produces a matching rhythm of short, sharp cries until he hears his name over and over again alongside the sound of metal sliding back and forth against wood.

Kageyama finds it difficult to cum from penetration alone, and yet there are moments when he’s being fingered or being fucked where his whole body is trembling and Hinata can feel his muscles spasming around him. He cannot fathom how Kageyama can tolerate something that intense and not cum. His pleasure is so obvious that it overrides all his natural standoffish habits. It’s kind of fascinating how responsive he is.

“Please,” Kageyama gasps. “Please, oh, please, please…”

“What are you going to do when I’m gone?” Hinata wonders. “A whole two years?”

The response sounds like a groan that gets twisted and broken somewhere in Kageyama’s throat and ends up a pathetic whine.

“Are you going to wait?” Hinata asks.

Kageyama nods urgently. It’s as if the faster he agrees, the faster relief will come.

“It’s a long time to wait.”

“Shoyo … please…”

“Well, see? You can’t even wait a few minutes. I’m scared you’ll find someone else.”

A part of him can’t help using this moment to be honest—although he isn’t really concerned that Kageyama will find someone else he prefers sexually, so in some ways it’s just as dishonest as it is honest. But still, it’s on his mind. The closer Brazil gets, the more aware he becomes of how long two years are.

Everything could be completely different by the time he returns.

Kageyama is looking back at him over his shoulder. His breathing is slowing but he still sounds like he’s just finished a long run. His dark eyes are steady and intimidatingly clear.

This is the wrong time to have this conversation. Hinata knows it. He kicks himself for the moment of weakness and considers briefly apologizing before deciding that will make it worse.

Instead, he does the one thing he knows Kageyama hates but possibly the only thing that can rescue the fantasy. He smacks Kageyama’s ass hard with an open palm. Then he weathers the cursing that’s barked at him in response and the seething look that Kageyama nearly twists his shoulder out of its socket to give him. Then he says sorry because it actually feels appropriate now. He kisses Kageyama’s lower back sweetly and goes back to massaging his prostate until the setter is soothed and desperately aroused again.

When he’s ready he traces patterns with the tip of his cock across the back of Kageyama’s thighs just to drive him a little bit more crazy.

“Shoyo,” Kageyama moans. “Please … take me.”

Holy fuck.

He’s so flustered by how needy and raw Kageyama sounds, he loses his balance and falls back on his ass. That voice … he’s going to hear that voice in his wet dreams for months. To say nothing of the words. The words are surreal. Hinata hesitates just long enough to notice the smirk on Kageyama’s face.

Oh, you little piece of…

Hinata groans. “I changed my mind. I’m not at all sorry. I should spank you again—”

“DON’T YOU DARE.”

He pulls himself back up to his knees and rubs the small of Kageyama’s back in slow circles. “Ok, ok…” He can’t help the chuckle. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t ready to hear ‘Shoyo, take me.’ Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“How about this? If you don’t start fucking me soon I swear to God I’ll lock you out of the apartment next time you go to use the bathroom.”

Hinata laughs. That was more like it. Satisfied, he takes his cock in hand and start guiding into position. It’s pushing up against muscle, into the narrow channel slick with lube, while he listens to Kageyama groan, his upper body tilting helplessly towards the bed before straightening up.

“Maybe I’ll just pee out the window from now on!”

It’s a good comeback, but probably Kageyama is too distracted by the slow stretch of his body being entered from behind. Kageyama’s breathing sounds deep as Hinata gets settled inside of him. They have enough experience that it doesn’t take much time to adjust. It’s like Hinata just fits. Like their bodies were designed for this.

To Hinata, “use me” implies hard, deep thrusts, with little kissing and almost no caressing. Not his favorite way to fuck, but the sounds Kageyama starts making when he focuses on pulling him back into each pop of his hips wins him over. Short, hiccup-like moans, periodically interrupted by low, threatening growls. They are good sounds but still he wonders how strict this particular fantasy is for Kageyama. Does he expect to be left unsatisfied? Does Kageyama just want Hinata to fuck him like he doesn’t care if he likes it?

It’s something of a paradox since playing along might increase Kageyama’s pleasure, which is undoubtedly good, but there’s no outcome in which Hinata would be happy with his partner not climaxing. He thinks he might know how to thread the needle here and—ironically—months of phone sex have helped him figure out the right words to say. When he wraps his hand around Kageyama’s cock and starts stroking him, he tells Kageyama, “I’m going to make you tighten up around me because it feels so good.”

He’s rewarded with a hard, sharp, shuddering gasp, and no complaints about Hinata stroking him. The pleasure does make Kageyama squeeze around him, which makes each thrust feel that much more incredible. The morning chill is completely forgotten. His hand on Kageyama’s lower back feel both the setter’s strength, but also his heat. There’s a fine coating of sweat across the surface. It gathers into tiny beads just above the clef of his behind.

He’s close, Hinata thinks. He always feels like he can feel it in how Kageyama’s cock throbs. But then, Hinata’s close too and it’s getting progressively harder to think straight. Kageyama’s moans become groans and his groans become sobs, while Hinata’s thrusts become pure muscle memory, practically involuntary. It builds and builds until he tosses his head back and feels a wave of pleasure crash over him, blotting all other sensations out.

He almost collapses on top of Kageyama, but at the last minute forces himself to flop beside him. Kageyama is completely flat, face down, like he’s been liquified. Hinata can hear him breathing, but each breath seems to shake.

Like he’s crying.

Crap. Maybe that went too far? He didn’t mean to hurt Kageyama.

He’s clumsy and quite possibly panicking. He fumbles a bit before he can get the shackles undone. He nudges Kageyama onto his side so that he can check to see if he’s mad, check to see if he’s in pain, check to see if he’s actually crying.

Kageyama’s fingertips stroke over Hinata’s cheek and jaw. His eyes don’t look puffy or red. He seems very calm. Serene even. It’s a relief to find there are no tears.

Kageyama leans forward and presses their foreheads together, then he closes his eyes and inhales deeply.

“Was that okay?” Hinata whispers.

Those fingertips move over his face again. “Hm-mm…”

It seems like Kageyama liked it. He’s curled up in their dirty sheets and ordinarily, he really hates that. He’s very neat, almost Spartanly so, and the typical postcoital scenario involves Kageyama nudging Hinata to the edge of the bed in order to avoid sleeping on the wet spot.

He tells himself not to question it and drifts for a while. He loves the feeling of Kageyama’s breath on his cheeks and across his lips. He loves being so relaxed and so close. But inevitably, as the sun continues to rise, his mind becomes more and more restless.

“Come on,” Hinata says. He stretches and feels like pleasure from his orgasm is squeezed out of its hiding spaces deep in his muscles.“Get up and figure out what’s for breakfast. I have a couple of hours until I have to go back. I can change the sheets and do the laundry.”

Kageyama yawns. “What are you my wife now?”

“Better wife than living sex doll.”

The setter snorts. “Sex dolls don’t talk back, dumbass. That’s part of the appeal.”

“You can’t sleep in forever, anata.”

That earns him another punch, much lighter than the other two, little more than a thump on his back and a muttered (almost chuckled), “Dumbass.”

Then after a few minutes of lying quietly next to one another, Kageyama’s eyes open and he asks, “Why are you going back so late?”

It’s true, Hinata normally leaves super early so that he can go from the train directly to the gym for training. He doesn’t bring much on these overnights, so other than a little loss of sleep and a pricey Shinkansen ticket, it isn’t too much of a burden.

“Ahhhh… I have today off. I just need to be back by the afternoon for my Portuguese lesson.”

“A day off, huh?”

“Yeah, my beach coach has some kind of family thing.”

“Any chance you could put two or three of those together?”

Hinata frowns. “What… a day off?”

“Yeah.”

“…Maybe? Why?”

“I was just thinking … have you ever been on a plane before?”

“Um … no? What does that have to do with anything?”

Kageyama is talking as if he’s still half asleep, although his words are precise and sharp. “And you think it’s a good idea for your first time on a plane to be a thirty-hour flight to Brazil?”

“Well … okay, first, you can’t fly direct from Japan to Brazil. Every option would involve a layover somewhere. Probably only 13 or 14 hours on a plane each leg—”

He yelps as Kageyama punches his shoulder again. Hinata shouts indignantly, “Why am I being abused here!?!”

“Dumbass.” Kageyama yawns. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

“Go somewhere?”

“Yeah … like a trip. A vacation.”

“Together?” Hinata replies. Even he thinks this is probably a bit too airheaded of a response to take seriously.

“No, separately. I’ll put you on a plane going in one direction, and I’ll fly as far away in the other direction as possible. Yes, together you moron.”

“I mean … I don’t know … I can probably clear a couple of days. I pay all these people, you know? I’m sure they’d be cool with it, but—Could you? Don’t you have National team practice to balance with all the V-league stuff?”

Kageyama nods. “Yeah but, I think I could do a long weekend or something.”

“Okay … But where would we go?”

“That’s a secret.”

* * * * * *

They set dates for their vacation, but Kageyama refuses to tell him where they’re going. They’re flying there, obviously, but in the days leading up to them meeting at the airport Kageyama is extremely stingy on hints. When asked directly he only replies “We’re going west.”

That is fucking useless. There is hardly anything east of them without crossing the entire Pacific Ocean. Hinata doubted Kageyama had a weekend trip to the United States in mind.

How long is the flight? Hinata texts. What should I bring?

About six hours.

Six hours? Hinata thinks. What is six hours by plane from Tokyo? Korea maybe?

Do I need my passport?

Yes.

What should I pack?

Clothes. Your toothbrush. We can buy most everything else there.

WHAT KIND OF CLOTHES, KAGEYAMA?

He doesn’t get a response to that until the night before they’re supposed to leave. He’s only just closed his eyes, his alarm set early enough to make it to Tokyo by morning, and then his phone chimes. The message reads, Probably bring two swimsuits. Which means they’re going somewhere warm … which means a scramble to repack his entire suitcase, cursing all the way.

It goes without saying that Hinata is not at his most cheerful by the time he gets to the airport. A surprise vacation is less romantic in practice, he decides.

Kageyama is either too distracted by logistics to notice Hinata’s bad mood or does not care. He’s reading something on his phone and barely says hello to Hinata. Instead, he hands him a plastic bag filled with snacks for the plane, a folder with travel information and a small travel guide…

To Okinawa.

Hinata asks the obvious question first, “Why did I need my passport? This is a domestic flight.”

“You didn’t, but telling you that would have made it too easy to guess where we were going.”

Sometimes, Hinata thinks. His boyfriend is the most infuriating person in the world.

“Oh? Did Hibarida-san give you recommendations?” he replies sarcastically.

Kageyama levels a flat look at him and looks ready to argue when suddenly a familiar voice calls out, “Shooyoooo-kun!”

When he turns towards the sound he spots Miya Osamu first—only he’s somehow making noise without moving his lips. Then he realizes, no, that’s not it, Miya Atsumu is coming up just behind his twin brother, smiling and waving.

Confused, Hinata looks back at Kageyama. The setter is staring up and off to the side, two wrinkles on the bridge of his nose.

“It’s a long story,” Kageyama says.

Chapter Text

It’s actually a very short story that unravels as soon as Hinata asks what he assumes is the most obvious question:

“You invited the Miya brothers along with us?”

“Invited?” Atsumu looks confused. “Why would I need to be invited to my own vacation?”

Oh, Hinata thinks. Actually, that makes much more sense. The notion that Kageyama had planned and organized a romantic getaway by himself did stretch Hinata’s suspension of disbelief just a bit. Not that Kageyama wouldn’t want to. He would, but he wasn’t mentally well organized when it came to anything outside of volleyball. Hinata couldn’t imagine him researching hotels and flights, planning itineraries or anything like that. It made much more sense that he had cribbed off someone else’s effort.

Plus, Kageyama seems awkward and embarrassed. The longer they stay on this topic, the more likely he is to pout. Which might be cute. Hinata can’t decide if it’s worth the risk to find out.

Hinata watches Kageyama’s reaction carefully, recording all the little details and comparing them against his mental index of Kageyama’s moods. It’s clear he doesn’t like the discussion, but he’s actually pretty sedate. Now that the true architect has been revealed, he seems much less bothered by the Miya brothers. In a way, that’s to be expected. Hinata has never really known Kageyama to hold grudges, even when battles get bitter with competitors.

After all, things got intense with Ushijima and now they were playing together without issue. The Great King, too, would talk about Kageyama in the weirdest, most toxic way possible, but Kageyama still called him Oikawa-san and bowed politely when making requests. Hinata could think of no one, in all their matches, with all their heartbreaks, among all their rivals that Kageyama actively disliked.

Once his Olympic slot was secured, there was very little reason for Kageyama to be hostile towards Miya Atsumu…

…Other than jealousy, which was silly and presumably Kageyama would not have agreed if he hadn’t realized it was silly.

“Oh, in that case…” Bowing to the Miya twins, Hinata says, “Thank you for letting us impose.”

Atsumu throws his arms around them—Hinata tucked under one side, Kageyama tucked under the other—and starts herding them towards the security checkpoint. “Not at all! I’m so glad Tobio-kun talked you into it! These kinds of trips are much more fun with groups and anyway, if Tobio had kept saying no, I don’t think Samu would have said yes.”

Kept saying no… Hinata cackles. He can’t help it. The mental image is so perfectly clear to him. He nudges Kageyama in the ribs. “Maybe I’m the one who should be jealous.”

“What was that?” Kageyama barks.

Oh right… Hinata thinks. The Miya brothers don’t know anything about him and Kageyama as a pair. It only sounds like they do.

They get through the logistics of the airport relatively easily. It’s when they’re waiting by the gate for boarding to start that the conversation shifts toward old grievances. Hinata is bored. Bored and still trying to adjust to the idea that what he was cautiously optimistically considering a private getaway was actually something very different. He wants a way to call out the elephant in the room, but he can only think of pointing sharply at Miya Atsumu and leveling his own accusation.

“You did the worst thing anyone has ever done to me.”

Atsumu looks alarmed and confused by this statement and the passion with which Hinata threw it at him. His response, though, is level and cool, “Oh? And what’s that?”

“You graduated! You beat me and then you graduated so that I would not have the opportunity to defeat you again.”

Joy floods the older player’s face. He laughs. “Yes! You’re right! I didn’t realize. That is the worst thing I could have done, isn’t it? But it was your own fault.”

“How was that my fault?”

“Because you choked at Inter-High the year before! We lost our first game of Nationals to a nobody, an unseeded school called Karasuno. If you didn’t suck, we would have played much later and you would not have humiliated us, making it necessary that we crush you next time.”

“That’s a ridiculous argument.”

Miya Osamu rolls his eyes and stares at the ceiling.

“Oh, but blaming me for graduating isn’t? Should I have gotten left behind?”

“Frankly, yes!”

“Why? You were only one year behind. What’s waiting one year?”

Except it wasn’t one year, was it? It was final. Final because Hinata had not tried to play college-level volleyball, so when and how would they ever play again?

“Let’s play a match when we get there,” Hinata says. “2 on 2!”

Samu crosses his arms and mutters something about this being inevitable that Hinata chooses not to address. Kageyama is sitting next to Samu, reading a magazine so that he doesn’t have to pay attention to whatever is going on.

Atsumu stares Hinata down—considering the challenge quietly for a full minute before he declares, “I don’t wanna.”

Somehow, the serious buildup makes the response seem all the more childish.

“Why not?” Hinata cries. “Are we not going to play at all during this trip?”

“I didn’t say that. Just not first thing.”

“We better. I don’t want to waste the opportunity to beat you again.”

Miya Atsumu tilts his head and frowns. “They’ll be plenty of games, Shoyo-kun. You’re going to go pro. We both are.”

It catches Hinata up short because he doesn’t expect it, and when he reveals that he did not expect it, Atsumu raises an eyebrow skeptically and adds:

“You are going pro, aren’t you?”

Hinata does not miss how much attention Kageyama is suddenly paying to the conversation. He is still holding his magazine as if he is reading it, but his eyes are watching them from over the top of it.

“Of—Of course!” Hinata sputters.

“Are you unsure about that?”

“No!”

But even as he shouts the doubts down, he can see the problem. He is telling himself he believes it, he is saying he believes it, but he isn’t acting like he believes it, is he?

* * * * * *

Hinata has never had trouble sleeping in transit. He’s happy to find that it’s just as easy to fall asleep on Kageyama’s shoulder in a plane as it was on the team bus in high school. Kageyama has fallen asleep against the window, so when Hinata wakes up about an hour before landing he finds himself the top domino in a short stack with a very embarrassed-looking middle-aged man endcapping their aisle.

He thinks about apologizing but decides that’s silly.

Hinata rubs his eyes and yawns. The screen on the back of the seat in front of him glows blue, a little white plane sitting on a landscape of ocean. Above it a pair of gold eyes stare at him. They are too open and seem to glow, the whites of them near fluorescent. It’s like a jump scare. Hinata’s heart smacks into his throat. He realizes what it is before he screams, grabbing his chest and swallowing the sound like a burp.

Atsumu smiles from where he’s perched watching Hinata from over the back of his seat. “Good morning!”

“Good morning—how long have you been staring at me?”

“Not long,” the setter pouts. “Couple of seconds. I heard you moving.”

He looks Hinata up and down in a way that makes Hinata uncomfortable, but before he can do more than squirm, Atsumu notes, “I guess the rumors were true.”

“Rumors?”

Atsumu glances over briefly at the still snoozing Kageyama, then back to Hinata. A knowing smile lingers on his lips.

Oh shit… Hinata thinks. Words and fragments of sentences smash together in his head and he can’t assemble them as thoughts. He holds a hand full of weak excuses that reveal more truth than they hide and he can’t decide which cards to play.

“He’s holding you,” Atsumu points out.

And in fact he is. They had raised the armrest between them and Kageyama’s arm was loosely around his waist, his hand resting on Hinata’s hip.

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything,” Atsumu says.

That isn’t all that comforting, but what can Hinata do? Anything he might say is likely to make it worse.

Instead, he nudges the body he’s reclining against gently with his elbow. “Kageyama.”

Kageyama makes a face but doesn’t open his eyes. “Mm?”

“Come on, we’re almost there.”

Kageyama flinches and slowly opens his eyes. Judging by the way his lips quirk the first thing he sees is probably Miya Atsumu’s smiling face.

“Good morning, Tobio-kun,” Atsumu says.

“Good morning.” Kageyama yawns. He looks around, leans over and peers out the window, a confused frown forming on his face. “Wait … what time is it?”

“It will be about 4 pm when we land,” Atsumu says. “Then a few hours to get settled before Samu drags me out to go eat. He has a list. Okinawa has a lot of unique food.”

Miya Osamu’s voice calls back from his seat next to his brother, “The only reason I agreed to this.”

“You guys are welcome to come with us,” Atsumu continues, completely ignoring his twin. “Or not, if you want to…”

The pause that follows is entirely too long. Every second that it goes on, Hinata’s anxiety doubles. Kageyama doesn’t seem to notice—Or wait, is Hinata having one of those slow-motion moments off the court? Is this waiting real? Or does he imagine the pause? Does Atsumu really lick his lips like that? Does he really have enough time to stare into Hinata’s eyes like he’s waiting for a signal to back off? Do his lips really part with such intention and significance as he says…

“…Do other things.”

Kageyama stretches in his seat. The hand that had given them away leaves Hinata’s hip and there’s a sudden chill up his spine.

“Food sounds good,” Kageyama says.

Atsumu’s voice is casual, sing-song, without weight or force but unquestionably sincere. He smiles with his whole face. “Yay!”

* * * * * *

Hinata realizes he has never really been to the beach.

He has, but not a real beach. Not like this. He didn’t appreciate the difference until he was ankle deep in crystal clear water, a soft pillow of sand under his toes.

Beaches in Miyagi are short, their sand clay-like, their waters cloudy with sediment picked up from the shore. Nothing like this. This beach is a long cove. It is pastel. Pink and peach in the sky, turquoise water. The surf carries foam that is pure white. They roll over the waves like clouds catching a ride.

It’s not just beautiful. It is pure. He can taste the salt on his lips, feel it sticking in his hair.

They are in a hotel just across the street from the beach. They have a double room two floors away from the Miya brothers. Hinata was a little surprised when Kageyama told him the room number, because he assumed that since they booked the rooms under one reservation they would be together. Atsumu also seemed a little surprised, but smiles pleasantly in a way that is both sincerely amused and more predatory than a growl.

Osamu gives Hinata a look that says, “Don’t bother,” and Hinata decides to take his advice. He wonders if Samu is the older of the twins. He certainly seems that way. He is the quiet and stable complement to Atsumu’s childish enthusiasm.

And it all fades away as soon as Hinata sees the room.

It isn’t anything special as far as hotels go. It’s clean and nice. It has two double beds, which Hinata can’t help labelling “one for sex” and “one for sleep” in his head. The bathroom is a little dated but has everything they would need. The closet is big enough for them to move in—he’s not sure why anyone would need that much space on vacation. The items in his suitcase typically go from his bag to his body to a pile on the floor to back into his bag just before he checks out.

But the room has a balcony that looks out at the beach and the ocean. As soon as Hinata sees it, he has to open the door to step onto it. And as soon as he steps onto it, he knows he has to go downstairs to actually be there.

It does not disappoint.

The water is a bit cold. Not like Miyagi beaches, but not bath water either. His body adjusts easily and forgets the lower temperature. He scans the shoreline. Why is there no one here? Sure, the sun is setting, but if Hinata had a beach like this, he would be here all the time!

There’s hardly any pull from the tide. The water rocks against him, in and out like a breath. No urgency, no force, just cool and soothing … like the music he hears everywhere.

“Hinata!”

He turns. If his eyes are watering it’s because of the salt, the beauty, how happy he is…

Kageyama is standing out of the water, over the line the waves make when they stretch as far as they can for dry earth. The sunset backlights him so that he seems like mostly shadow and when his hair moves in the breeze, Hinata can’t help worrying that the air might blow Kageyama away.

The water splashes up and soaks the rolled-up hem of his jeans as he bounds over towards Kageyama.

“Do you think they look like this in Rio?”

Kageyama’s expression softens. He looks off to the horizon like he could see Rio if only he squinted hard enough.

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“I’m so glad we came!”

Kageyama only nods. Like always, nothing makes Kageyama as uncomfortable as Hinata’s joy. Hinata has learned not to take that personally.

“Come on,” he says. “We’re getting food.”

* * * * * *

Osamu does have a list: chanpuru, taco rice, goya prepared any number of ways, hirayachi and that special soft tofu. Sata andagi and basically anything with Okinawa brown sugar…

But he wants to start with soba.

Hinata is surprised. “Soba? But you can get soba anywhere,”

He realizes his mistake immediately. Atsumu shoots a sly, sympathetic smile his way just before his brother launches into this whole monotone speech about the history and controversy of Okinawa soba. How it was made without buckwheat and therefore not properly soba at all. How regulators tried to stop people from selling it as soba. How a local noodle company trademarked the name to ensure its survival…

Osamu wants it with koregusu. Or pork rib. Or pork rib and koregusu!

Hinata can’t help but be charmed by his enthusiasm. Passionate people inspire him, always have, always will. He’s suddenly hyper aware of how empty his stomach is, how easy it is to imagine the flavors of something he’s never tasted before. He looks back at Kageyama and knows it’s working on him too. He has a distant, dreamy, air-headed look on his face with the slight smile normally reserved for curry night.

Plus it’s warm with a steady breeze. Coming from the dead of winter into this paradise … not even Kageyama could find a reason to be cranky.

Hinata smiles and floats a little as they walk down the street, following Samu who is following the directions generated by his phone.

The place they end up at is small but lively. It looks suspiciously like someone’s house. There’s a window where one orders and a set of tables scattered around under a canopy of string lights. Printed pictures of food are mounted in plastic sleeves on the wall. Text describing their ingredients in Japanese and English. Everything sounds so good. Something smells amazing. Hinata might have fallen into a happiness trance.

“Tobio-kun,” Atsumu says. “Let’s go find a table and let those two handle the food.”

Kageyama—similarly entranced—startles at the sound of his name. He blinks in confusion and then dimly replies, “Ah. Okay.”

Something is playing over the speakers that everyone else seems to recognize. It involves drums and the twangy strings of a sanshin. It feels so traditional and so exotic at the same time. Hinata feels his thoughts sync with the beat and sensations pulse with the thump of the drums. It reminds him a little of the taiko drums that used to play at their games and how weird it was to play a very modern and western sport to the soundtrack of something ancient and decidedly Japanese.

“You know,” Samu begins. His attention is still fixed on the menu, which he is studying with the seriousness of a Talmudic scholar. “Brazil has the largest population of Japanese people outside of Japan.”

“Uwh? …Um… I did not know that.”

“Yeah. Apparently, they have a whole festival devoted to Okinawan soba there too. I can’t remember where or how close to Rio it is. But they have a monument to soba … I saw a picture of it once.”

Hinata snorts. “A monument to soba?”

“It’s a statue … a giant bowl of soba with chopsticks pulling long noodles up to the sky.” Samu smiles. “It’s kind of awesome.”

“Maybe I’ll go check it out.”

“If you do, send me a picture. And tell me how the food is.”

Ordering is less tricky than Hinata assumed it would be. Osamu orders six different dishes, which seems a bit much for four people, but then they are four athletes and Hinata likes the idea of trying a bunch of different things at once.

As they wait for their order to be prepared, Hinata turns back and scans the crowd for Kageyama.

“Say…” Hinata watches Atsumu talking animatedly to Kageyama on the other side of the restaurant. From this distance, it’s difficult to tell how annoyed Kageyama is. Hinata can’t see the forehead wrinkles. He points them out to Samu and asks, “Is that okay?”

Samu shrugs.

“Not everyone would let a rival crash their vacation.”

“Rival?” Samu says. He sounds surprised by the word.

“Well, yeah… They’re both setters, competing for the same slot on the National Team, aren’t they?”

Samu thinks about this for a moment. “I suppose so … technically. But ‘Tsumu doesn’t see himself as having any rivals.”

“Really?”

“That guy…” Miya Samu glances in the direction of his brother with half-lidded eyes. “He’s not trying to defeat Kageyama. He’s trying to seduce him.”

“Uh…. Huh?” is Hinata’s most dignified reply.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean that literally. I meant… ‘Tsumu understands that there is only one setter on the court and only two on a team. The better Kageyama is as a player, the fewer opportunities ‘Tsumu has to play at the highest level. But he has no rivals because to him, every strong player is potentially someone for him to set to. He doesn’t want to defeat your friend, he wants to convince him to stop being a setter and join his harem of spikers.

“That’s what I meant. He’s been trying to seduce Kageyama for years.”

Hinata looks back to where Kageyama and Atsumu are talking. Yes … maybe… He has not put much thought into Atsumu’s overly familiar style. He’s from Kansai, after all, the stereotype of people from Kansai is loud, more outgoing in general. But … yes, he can understand that thinking. In a way, he feels that way too. He has never wanted to crush a rival, only defeat them. At various points in his career with Karasuno, he worked to help make players from other teams even stronger so that there was even more of a thrill playing against them and winning.

“He’s too childish to effectively sabotage anyone,” Samu notes. “Besides, you’re not crashing anything. He pitched this idea to Kageyama.”

“Eeh? Why?”

“Like I said, he has no rivals. He wants all the strong players to be stronger so that he has better weapons to set to. That includes you—” Samu yawns. “And also me, unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?”

“I told him over a year ago I was not playing volleyball anymore. He probably thinks if I have fun on this trip I will change my mind. I’m not going to change my mind.”

Chapter Text

The best smell in the morning, as far as Hinata is concerned, is fresh cotton. Fresh cotton and sea air and sunlight—wait, sunlight isn’t really a smell, is it? But there is something else in his nose. Something hard to describe. Something acerbic lingering in the background. As if sarcasm had a smell. It makes him tingle with anticipation. Exposure pleasing and injurious. The same way sunlight could warm but over time bleach the color and feeling out of things.

It is the smell of fresh cotton, sea air, and man.

Having one bed for sex and another bed for sleeping was a brilliant idea. The sheets are crisp against his naked skin. The breeze from the ocean brushes across his back. His feet are hanging off the side of the bed and for a second—with his heart so full of happiness and hope—he wonders if he has somehow grown taller.

Were it only true. Hinata would be happy to tell Kageyama that his dick is magic. For an extra 10 centimeters, he’d be happy to tell the world.

Unfortunately, as he opens his eyes he immediately realizes what it is. His arms are wrapped around Kageyama’s waist and his body is stretched out diagonally. The bed is only a double, so there isn’t enough space for that kind of sprawl.

One day, he thinks. We’ll live together and have two king-sized beds: one for sex and the other with clean sheets.

He hears Kageyama yawn and tries to look at him without moving his head. He is so comfortable—even with his feet dangling off the edge of the bed. Kageyama smells good. The salt in the air mixes with the salt dried on his skin. It is delicious. It makes him think of fresh salmon grilled until the skin is crispy (his favorite).

He giggles and drags his tongue across Kageyama’s belly. Kageyama grunts and mutters, “Didn’t you have enough of that last night?” He yawns again and tries to fake disinterest.

“Never,” Hinata insists. He crawls up Kageyama’s body, licking and kissing as he goes. Kageyama turns his face away and frowns as if deeply annoyed by the imposition. He’s keeping his eyes stubbornly closed, but his hand moves to the small of Hinata’s back in a way that draws Hinata closer.

The part of Hinata that is deeply and profoundly competitive actually kind of loves these games. Even though he knows Kageyama is full of shit, he loves it. He loves forcing it out of him, each closely guarded display of affection.

There’s so much he loves about Kageyama, actually.

Like the way Kageyama’s face lights up with child-like wonder after that first peek of schools of brightly colored fish when they went snorkeling.

Like the way he’s stoic and reactionless as Atsumu and Hinata attempt to bully him into buying a ridiculous tiki shirt and then further demand—crowing with demented glee—that he wear it to lunch.

Like the way he isn’t surprised when Hinata takes a volleyball out of his shoulder bag the second they kick off their sandals and their feet touch soft white sand.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Atsumu says. He looks like he can’t decide if he’s annoyed or amused. “Where did you get that?”

“I brought it with me.”

“You packed a volleyball?”

“Well, yeah.”

“You didn’t know where we were going!”

For Hinata, the answer is so obvious it feels silly to have to say it out loud. He blinks dumbly and points to his boyfriend without looking away from the Miya brothers. “Kageyama wouldn’t go anywhere he can’t play volleyball.”

He knows that about him and he loves it about him. In the beginning, Hinata was not that obsessed with volleyball. He didn’t read the monthlies, he didn’t buy tapes of the games to study, he didn’t keep a journal of his training. He thought volleyball seemed fun and once he realized his disadvantage, he became obsessed with overcoming it. It was Kageyama who was obsessed with the sport. Kageyama, whose every thought, every life decision, every movement could be traced in one way or another to playing more volleyball, or clearing the path to playing more volleyball, or thinking about volleyball, or finding new people to play volleyball with. It was never Hinata’s obsession. Not at first. Hinata became addicted to volleyball later. Hinata became addicted to Kageyama first.

There’s so much he loves about Kageyama. Like his creepy smiles. Like his secret shyness.

Like the way Kageyama gives in to a totally self-satisfied smirk and tries (but fails) to hide it before anyone has noticed.

* * * * * *

They play six single set games, mixing partners each time. Hinata convinces them to play with highly modified rules, mainly to keep the confusion between beach rules and indoor rules to a minimum.

“Passes only. No spikes, no blocks.”

“What’s the fun in that?” Atsumu pouts.

“Keep the ball up as long as possible,” Hinata says.

“It’s too easy. What kind of elite player can’t keep the ball up?”

“I never said you can’t go fast. We can go fast, right? Kageyama?”

Kageyama has that look on his face. The scary look. The look he gets when he’s really excited about a game. He doesn’t respond, he just looks like that.

It makes Atsumu scowl and that’s how Hinata knows they will play until dinner time.

But it only takes about twenty minutes for the rest of the group to appreciate the madness of beach volleyball.

“Ahhhh!” Atsumu whines. “It’s so hard to jump.”

“I know, right?” Hinata could not be prouder. He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest, as if training in beach makes him a superhero officially.

But as impressed as Atsumu seems, he also seems disappointed in a way that makes Hinata deflate under the surface. The hands on his hips are soon propping his power pose up.

“Why would you give up your biggest advantage?” the setter asks. “Without your jumps, you’re nothing.”

It’s only because of how they are arranged that Hinata can see the way Atsumu’s twin brother’s expression sours in response to this incredible moment of insight. That makes Hinata feel a little bit better about it, although his nagging doubts and latent anxiety take note of Atsumu’s feedback and burn it into Hinata’s brain.

“If I can figure out how to do them on the beach, though, my jumps will be so much better!”

He hops, stomping both feet down into the ground on each landing to emphasize his point. He’s cheerful, confident and unbothered, but it’s mostly an act.

Atsumu frowns. “Or it could make them worse.”

What Hinata cannot see is Kageyama’s reaction. Because he’s standing behind Hinata and Hinata would have to turn and look at him deliberately in order to see anything. That would break the illusion of confidence, which feels like a fate worse than death right now.

He’s not wrong. Hinata knows it. He could come back worse than before.

…But he can’t think about that. He needs to do something. The parts of his game that need to get stronger will not get stronger unless he does something different.

“Well,” Atsumu says, finally noticing the awkward vibe shift. “I suppose if nothing else, Brazil itself will be such an adventure.”

Somehow, that’s even worse. But Hinata can’t dwell on this. “Come on,” he tosses the ball hard at the center of Atsumu’s chest. “It’s your serve.”

Then, because he finally has an excuse to, he turns and looks at Kageyama. His boyfriend is eyeing him seriously. Sometimes, Kageyama’s anger is a strange sign of affection. Proof that Hinata is capable of so much more, because if he wasn’t, then what right would Kageyama have to be disappointed to the point of anger? Sometimes his anger is the best possible thing. Hinata wishes Kageyama were angry at him now. He knows that look. He has rarely seen it on Kageyama’s face, but he knows it. The first time he saw it was the first week of their first year, when Kageyama made Hinata take receives until his exhaustion made him throw up. It isn’t anger.

It is pity.

* * * * * *

Hinata is determined to put it out of his mind. He keeps telling himself over and over that he does not have a choice. This is his tiny sliver of a chance. His only chance. That alone makes it worthwhile. Even if nothing comes of it…

This isn’t the time to play it safe; Kageyama is too far ahead. He has to get stronger. He has to.

He knows the mask is slipping a bit, but he’d rather the guys see him naked than see him doubting himself. He keeps pretending to be cheerful and easy-going—keeps pretending that he hasn’t grown out of his delusional confidence. The island is so warm and so beautiful that from time to time, he forgets he’s pretending for a few precious minutes.

Ultimately, though, it’s a good day.

Hinata sighs. His heart feels light and his head feels a little dizzy. He leans back on his arms and feels the bed below adjust to his weight. There’s a big, stupid smile pulling across his face. He can’t help it. He can smell the ocean. He’d had rice with seaweed that was covered in thousands of tiny green bubbles that popped against his tongue. He’d been on the winning team for four out of their six sets. Osamu had been talking to him all day about this special fried rice and sweet crispy donuts for dinner.

“I would not have thought that what I needed as an unemployed loser was a vacation.”

Kageyama is out on the balcony, fussing with his hair as it blows in the wind and trying to get beach sand out from where the salt water has encrusted it behind his ear. A hopeless task by the sound of the tsch-ing

“You’re not unemployed,” Kageyama calls back. “You’re in volleyball cram school. Plenty of people our age do cram school the year after high school.”

Hinata can feel the laugh deep in his belly. It squeezes his chest like a warm hug and feels so good. “That’s right!” he declares. “I am in volleyball cram school!”

He rolls over on the bed, folds his arms into a pillow for his head and watches Kageyama for a few minutes. “Neh…”

Kageyama turns. His expression is neutral except for a hint of curiosity around his eyes.

“Would you still love me if I stopped playing volleyball?”

Kageyama frowns. “Who says I love you at all?”

“This nice hotel room on this beautiful island.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Well, I could go ask Atsumu if he would still love me after volleyball, but I don’t want to make you jealous.”

Kageyama rolls his eyes.

“No, but I’m serious…” Hinata starts again.

“I’m not answering a question like that.”

A pit begins to form in the bottom of Hinata’s stomach. He shouldn’t have asked. He was feeling alright again and he shouldn’t have asked. What good did asking do? He knows Kageyama is not the type to give comfort in this way.

And yet still he asks, “Why not?”

“Because it’s a stupid question. You’re not quitting volleyball.”

“But … I might.”

“If that’s true, you’re a bigger idiot than I thought.”

Hinata feels suddenly defensive. It’s bizarre, it isn’t like Kageyama calling him an idiot is in any way new. And he has never paid attention to it before.

“I could have a career-ending injury, you don’t know.”

Kageyama leaves his perch staring out at the water. The movement is so abrupt that for a second Hinata is convinced Kageyama is coming over to grab him by a fistful of hair and shout threats at him until he takes it all back. Until Hinata promises to stop experimenting with bitter acceptance of reality.  Hinata is a little scared at first. Not that Kageyama will physically hurt him, but of the pain he feels certain is coming.

Kageyama does not say anything, he does not react to Hinata’s sudden defensive posture, he doesn’t acknowledge how Hinata babbles several partial justifications, he just walks into the bathroom, digs around for a bit before coming back with a small blue gift box.

“What’s this?” Hinata asks as he’s handed it.

“A souvenir.”

“You bought me a souvenir?”

Kageyama snorts, “Obviously.”

Other than the occassional pork bun, Kageyama does not buy him things. He is not a gift giver, really … although he can be generous in slightly unconventional ways.

“What is it?” Hinata asks.

“Open it, dumbass.”

Kageyama is getting impatient. So there’s nothing really to do but comply. Inside the box is a bracelet. Nothing fancy, just a strip of sturdy woven minsa cloth. A regional specialty that Hinata remembers reading something about as he inhaled the guidebook on the plane. It looks a bit like a friendship bracelet. A little thicker than that, with color strips that form a gradient reminiscent of the shoreline—sandy, seafoam, deep ocean blues and lighter blue skies.

Hinata remembers what the guidebook says: people give minsa to their true love.

“It was his idea,” Kageyama admits. “This trip. But Miya-san thinks memories can hold you back, so it was only about cheering you up. Go somewhere, remind you how much fun volleyball is. I think…” He frowns the way Kageyama frowns when he’s second-guessing what he wants to say or how he’s going to say it. Hinata does his best to look patient and understanding, coaxing these moments of openness out whenever he has an opportunity to.

“I think,” Kageyama starts again. “When things are difficult, it’s good to have happy associations. You can go back to that and get through the hard stuff. When things are hard for me, I think about practicing with Miwa and my grandfather. So it seemed like a good idea to go some place that would be warm, some place that had a real beach, so that maybe some part of Brazil reminds you of here.”

Hinata is taken aback when Kageyama bends down onto one knee and takes the bracelet out of its cheap cardboard box and off its white cotton bedding. He was going to say something, but now he’s too distracted by the movements of Kageyama’s long, elegant fingers tying the bracelet around his wrist. He wonders if Kageyama intends the souvenir as a reminder or as a claim. It’s sweet either way, but it makes him feel terrible about asking Kageyama to wait for him.

As if reassuring himself, Hinata says, “I don’t have to do the full two years. That’s just the maximum amount of time I could stay. Maybe I’ll come back much earlier.”

Kageyama frowns. He exhales heavily through his nose. He’s looking off to the side, as if the answer is written along the seam where the carpeting meets the wall. “I don’t know how to talk to you,” he admits, which Hinata finds ironic given all the truly outrageous things Kageyama has admitted to and described over the phone in the last few months. Something tells him not to interrupt just to point that out, though. He can feel something brewing, percolating in between the vast knowledge of volleyball that shuts out all other thoughts in Kageyama’s head. He wants to hear what it is more than he wants the thrill of wielding a clever comeback.

“I …” Kageyama sighs again and his frown shifts from one side of his face to the other. Then he looks up and his dark eyes are as sincere as Hinata has ever seen them. The intensity of it is arresting. Feelings grab Hinata by the throat.

“I want you to get stronger,” Kageyama says. “Because I want to play volleyball with you again. With you, against you—over and over again. It’s an absolutely insane thing you’re doing, but I know you can do it. I know you’ll come back much stronger and I want to meet that Shoyo. I’m so excited about the chance to play volleyball with him.”

Hinata thinks he might actually cry. Kageyama never calls him by his name outside of the bedroom. And it has never bothered Hinata but the break in tradition makes the moment feel so much more special. Of all the filthy, ridiculous, ear-burningly intense things Kageyama has said to him, I know you can do it, is the most provocative and arousing of them all. He is flabbergasted. He is speechless. Kageyama is kneeling before him, looking like he’s waiting for an answer and Hinata’s mind is just blank.

Finally, he laughs, which is probably the wrong thing, judging by how Kageyama’s expression sours and the sincerity, the naked earnestness is quickly shuttered away. It’s cruel to laugh in the face of someone so shy, Hinata thinks. But he can’t help it. The first thought he had while listening was, Yes, this is the way Kageyama confesses his love … with volleyball. And that’s just too ridiculous and adorable not to laugh at.

Hinata slides off the bed and wraps his arms tightly around the setter. Kageyama makes an uncomfortable sound in the back of his throat under the pressure of the bear hug, something like a thicker squeak or a quack. But Hinata knows he can’t laugh and not immediately pull Kageyama close.

“I’m sorry,” he says, still kind of giggling. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh … it’s just … you’re down on one knee and for a second I thought this is probably how you’d propose.”

He can feel Kageyama relax. The setter sucks on his teeth lightly and shifts in Hinata’s arms almost like he wants to wiggle free, but Kageyama has never hesitated just shoving Hinata away and he doesn’t move to do that.

“Why would I ever want to be married to you?” Kageyama says, but his voice is soft—without bite or heat. His arms come around Hinata. His hold is not as strong, and still … Hinata is sure it will never let go.

* * * * * *

Hinata spends his last night in Japan with Kageyama. It’s more practical than romantic. The closest international airport is in Tokyo. Hinata would have to spend the night in the city anyway. He might as well spend it making love in their bed, the balcony door letting a city breeze in that is not nearly as nice as a beach breeze but feels lovely on their skin all the same.

Kageyama doesn’t have to say “I love you.” Hinata knows it when he takes him to the airport and chooses a goodbye spot close to the bathroom so that Hinata can manage his nervous stomach without too much shame. He doesn’t say anything about it either, which Hinata deeply appreciates. He is incredibly anxious, terrified even, but also excited, but also…

He has two hours before his flight. Kageyama’s hand keeps brushing up against his hand. Neither one of them mentions that Kageyama will be in Rio himself in a few months. With the Olympic team. Hinata still can’t quite stop his jealousy from eating away at him and Kageyama…

Actually, Hinata does not know why Kageyama doesn’t bring it up. It would be so easy to say, “See you soon!” It would be so easy to make plans for whatever time they would have together during the games…

Kageyama’s hand touches his again. This time, Hinata looks down. Kageyama’s nails are perfectly shaped as always and there are few clues as to whether the touch was intentional or not.

Finally Kageyama says, “You better work hard and not fuck this up.”

There’s something very soothing about Kageyama being mean to him. It triggers his competitiveness, which was always very effective at overwhelming his anxiety. He knows he’s smiling, only because Kageyama smiles back.

“I have to go,” Hinata says, although he can’t make himself sound like he wants to or like he believes it.

Kageyama’s hand touches his again and this time the touch lingers. Kageyama is holding his hand. Hinata worries that if he looks down at it, Kageyama might stop.

“You better be prepared,” he says, turning towards Kageyama and looking him in the eye. “Because when I come back, I’m going to beat you.”

Kageyama smiles, his arm extends forward as he waits until the last possible moment to let go. “In your dreams,” he says. “No way I would ever lose to you. Not if you had a billion years of training in Brazil. Not if you sent an actual Brazilian volleyball player back in Hinata cosplay to play instead. Not if I was forced to play with grade school children. I will never lose to you. Do you understand?”

Hinata’s smile pushes deeper into his face. “You’re just saying that. I know I’ve already won.”