Daichi Sawamura is a volleyball captain, and a damn good one at that.
That’s what Suga says, anyway. Well- he leaves out the ‘damn’ but that’s because he probably would rather sacrifice his future than swear. When Tanaka tries to argue that, “ Damn isn’t a swear word, Suga, who raised you, a nun?” Suga will just roll his eyes (In a way that still makes him look completely kind and sweet which Daichi finds really unfair, because how can he sass him back without feeling bad?) and say, “A bad word is a bad word, Tanaka.”
(He kind of acted like a mixture between a seventy year old man and a toddler sometimes. Daichi didn’t know that was possible, but Suga has a habit of defying reality)
(Like the way his hair is still really soft and bouncy, even after volleyball practice, even when everyone else's hair is plastered to their heads with sweat. He wonders what it would be like to run his fingers through it, to curl a silvery lock around his finger and tug lightly, to-)
(Daichi should probably get to sleep and not think about how nice his best friend- emphasis on friend- looks after practice)
There’s a stern knock on his door, and his Suga’s voice rings through his bedroom, curling through every nook and cranny and filling it with a strange sort of warmth, forcing Daichi’s eyes open.
“Su-” His voice is to dry to finish, so he settles for a non-committal grunting sound, shuffling deeper under the thick cocoon of blankets piled on his bed. Daichi Sawamura is not a morning person.
Suga lets out a sigh, long and dramatic, and Daichi is momentarily angry at him for making his heart flop with such a simple noise.
“M’not movin’” he says petulantly, like a small child, and he can hear, feel Suga’s slight chuckle. He imagines Wisps of cloud-coloured hair curling around peaches-and-cream, Honeydew eyes narrowed in an attempt at annoyance. He can picture the way his nose wrinkles slightly whenever he’s trying not to laugh, and the way the corners of his lips would twitch in that fond impression Daichi strives to cause, before being buried under wrap upon wrap of kindness and falseness and insecurity.
(Because Daichi knows Suga better than he knows himself, and as he pictures the other in his mind he can see every light freckle, every curve of his face, and that small tuft of hair that always seems to be out of place)
“I’m going to come in,” Suga warns, and Daichi lets out a heavy groan and says, “Fine, fine, i’m coming, don’t come in.”
It’s not that he doesn’t want Suga in his room, brightening every corner with his smile and leaving his scent of melons and sugar and honey drifting in the air. He wants that very much so, but his bedroom is his bedroom and Suga is, well, Suga, and he thinks the other is too bright and beautiful and colourful to see this side of him.
(The side of him that leaves dirty clothes and unwashed coffee mugs cluttered around the place, and never bothers to make his bed, because Daichi may or may not be a secret slob.)
He pulls out his school uniform, pressing out the creases in his crumpled tie. He swings the door open and Suga is there, practically radiating with pure perfection. A toasted bagel is half-eaten, dangling from his mouth, and he hands another to Daichi wordlessly, crumpling up the paper bag and stuffing it in his pocket.
“Thanks,” Daichi says, bringing it to his lips, warmth curling around his tongue, and Suga just smiled around his mouthful, eyes shining with something Daichi can’t quite place.
They walk to school together, Daichi’s hands jammed in his pockets because if he doesn’t restrain them he’s scared he might reach out and grab Suga’s.
“HEY, NISHIN- OOF!”
Tanaka clutched his wounded cheek, glaring at Hinata. “Ow! That hurt! Don’t punch your senpai in the face!”
Hinata flushed. “I’m sorry! It was reflex!” he paused, catching himself, an accusing look enveloping his features. “But why were you telling Nishinoya about my crush?”
Tanaka stared at him for a second, dumbfounded. “It’s a secret?”
“Well yeah, of course!”
“Why the hell you telling me a secret?”
Hinata flushed again."I thought you could keep it! You’re my best friend next to Kageyama!”
Tanaka smirked at him, waggling his eyebrows, and Hinata had to clasp his hands together to stop himself from socking the other again. “But isn’t Kageyama more than a friend?” he said sweetly, eyelashes fluttering.
Tanaka grinned. “Seriously, though, man,” he said (As if Hinata had been completely non-serious when coming out to Tanaka) “Our team is totally LGBTQ+, supportive, bruh. Don’t worry about it. Just look at Suga and Daichi over there!”
“Suga and Daichi?” Hinata asked, whirling round to look at the two.
They were off to the side of the court, Daichi sitting on a small plastic chair that sagged alarmingly under his muscle mass, and Suga crouched next to him, sifting through papers, leaning against Daichi’s legs. The taller appeared to be wolfing down the last of a bagel, crumbs smearing his cheeks like he was a clumsy two year old and not a (very) strict volleyball captain. Suga laughed gently when he saw this, saying something inaudible to Daichi (which caused him to blush), before reaching up and gently brushing the mess from his face with his thumb (Causing Daichi to blush even harder, which Hinata didn’t think was possible)
“Oh,” Hinata said. “Are they dating?”
“Mentally, no.” Tanaka said, eyes still trained on the two. “But physically, hell yeah.”
“What does that even mean?” Hinata pouted, but Nishinoya had already dragged Tanaka away, screaming something about ‘ Kiyoko’s skirt is so short today man, get your ass over here you need to see this!”.
The gym was empty apart from them, and the cool night air hugged crisply to Daichi’s skin. He didn’t know why he was here, but when Suga had come to his dorm with tousled bed-head, and a tiny shimmer of drool on his chin that hadn’t been wiped away, saying- no, demanding- “Let’s go to gym. Practice.”, Daichi hadn’t really been in the position to say no. He’d gotten changed fumblingly, into his crumpled gym clothes that were still soaked with sweat, listening to Suga’s soft breathing on the other side of the door.
(He didn’t imagine what he would do if Suga was in here with him)
(He didn’t like him that way)
They walked together to the school, like they did every morning, except this time it was different, because the world seemed so much more empty, like they were the only two left, but somehow it didn’t feel lonely at all. Daichi stared straight ahead, trying not to think of how their hands would come so close he could feel the warmth radiating from the others, and how pretty Suga’s eyes looked in the moonlight. (How pretty all of Suga looked in the moonlight.)
“Why are we here?” Daichi had asked later, after watching him violently spike the volleyball for about the fiftieth time that night. Suga had froze at his words, tracing something with is finger on the ball that Daichi couldn’t quite make out, Before finally sighing.
“I want to get better,” he whispers, as if confessing a dirty secret. “Right now, i can’t even compete with him.”
Daichi stares at the other for a second, at the way curls of sterling hid his eyes, at the way his shoulders tense tight around his neck, at the way his hands shake ever so slightly.
“Oh,” he said. Then, “Oh,” again, and before he registered what he was doing, he swooped forward and cradled the other in his arms, hands light and gentle and loose, because he was scared the other might break if he pressed too hard. He ignores Suga’s rabbit-like heartbeat, and the way his arms, slow and shaky, hug him back, because Suga is crying and that’s not okay
“Idiot,” he hissed into Suga’s ear. “Moron. You’re amazing, Koushi, dammit.” he says, and he feels the smaller huff slightly at his ‘bad word’. “Don’t say you can’t compete. Kageyama’s a genius, we all know that. But you’re just as good as him, it’s only because without him we lose Hinata’s crazy quick.”
Suga hiccuped. “Don’t be stupid,” he said gently, face tucked into a Daichi’s neck, and it fits so snugly he seriously wonders if it was made to be there. “Don’t be stupid, Daichi, i know when someone’s better than me. I shouldn’t care so much, but-” he breaks off, but there was no need for him to finish. Daichi knows what he was going to say, anyway, because he’s been thinking the same thing.
( I want more time on the court. I need more time on the court.)
(It’s my last year to play with this team, this perfect, amazing team.)
(I never want to leave.)
(I need to keep feeling alive)
Suga’s warm breath on Daichi’s neck was like a lullaby, and he couldn’t bring himself to let go. They stay together so long- slotted together like a puzzle that’s finally complete- until the touch-sensor light goes off, and they sprung apart, embarrassed, Daichi having to jump wildly to get the light to turn back on again.
They walk home in silence, not looking at eachother, but when they reached Daichi’s house, Suga hugs him again, the scent of honey and melon bleaching his senses, and he doesn’t spend the rest of the night thinking about how Suga’s lips brushed against his collarbone.
(And how soft and warm they were)
“Alright people. go, go, go!” Ukai yelled, clapping his hands forcefully with each syllable, and Daichi winced. He didn’t sleep (again) last night, and with the extra volleyball practice at midnight, his eyes strained to close. His muscles ached and he’s worried that he’ll melt into a puddle of exhaustion if he doesn’t sit down in at least a minute.
And they’re just warming up, for god’s sake.
His eyes fluttered closed gently, and he thought, ‘ hey, i’ll just rest my eyes and do jumping jacks at the same time. This isn’t that bad’, before his legs slipped from under him, and a sharp thud raced up his spine, his eyes snapping over in an instant.
Ukai is too busy yelling to notice anything, and Hinata and Kageyama too busy over some Jumping Jack competition. Nishinoya and Tanaka are staring at Kiyoko again, and Asahi’s eyes are fluttered closed, like Daichi’s were before. He nearly thinks he’d gotten away with it, when he heard a laugh that reminded him faintly of ringing bells, (There’s really no other way to describe it) and then Suga is standing above him, smiling at him, all sugar and spice and everything nice, leaning forward to pull Daichi up. Warm hands encircle his wrist gently, his fingers pressing on his pulse softly like they were made to rest there. Daichi only faintly wondered if Suga could feel the way his heartbeat started to beat erratically under his touch, like music about to reach it’s climax. If he did, he didn’t show it, just pulled Daichi to his feet, leaving him a little bit breathless, but mostly happy, because Suga’s hand is still pressed against his, and he doesn’t look like he’s about to let go.
“Is this….ok?” he asked hesitantly, not quite meeting Daichi’s eyes.
“Yes,” he answered, a little too quickly. “God, yes.”
Suga didn’t answer, just stared shyly at the others, but Daichi saw the way the corners of his mouth curve slightly into a graceful smile.
oh , he thinks, because he might definitely be in love with his best friend.
oh , he thinks again, because he has he had never heard of any circumstance like that that ended well.
“Are you not sleeping again?” Suga says gently, quietly, staring at their feet. They’re walking home again, hands glued together, which seems to be a thing for them now- Suga grabbed his again as soon as practice was over, more sure of himself this time, squeezing it occasionally like a heartbeat. (It is a heartbeat in a way, Daichi thinks to himself- It’s a heart that beats for both of us, not just one. He doesn’t tell Suga this, though, because then Suga would look at him with that strange mix of fondness and neediness he has, and Daichi really doesn’t know if he can deal with that right now)
He hesitated slightly, wondering if he should say, no, my sleeping has been fine, But this is Suga, and Daichi can’t lie to Suga, never would.
“Yes,” he admits, and their heartbeat squeezes so hard he thinks it might burst, before Suga gives Daichi a watery smile.
“Oh,” he says. “You should have said something earlier,”
Daichi is silent, but that night, Suga doesn’t leave like he always does at his doorstep. He steps inside with Daichi, not seeming to mind the balled-up food wrappers littering his desk, or the sloppily tacked-up posters that coat his walls. He just clears a space on Daichi’s floor, sets up a mat, and sleeps there, not once asking for permission.
(He didn’t have to. They both know it’s okay.)
For the first of many times in his life, Daichi is lulled to sleep by muted snores. For the first of many times in his life, he dreams of warm hands and butterfly kisses and flashing hazel eyes.
The next day was Saturday, and for lunch Daichi makes them super spicy mapo doufu. Suga raises his eyebrow at him, because he knows Daichi can’t handle heat, and Daichi says it’s all they had left.
(They both know that’s not true)
(Spicy mapo doufu has always been Suga’s favourite)
(Suga ends up staying that night, as well)
(And the next)
Daichi has gotten used to the feeling of a smaller hand in his own.
He’s gotten used to seeing Suga’s face first thing in the morning and last thing at night.
There’s something different between them, and they both know it, like a switch has been flipped, something has clicked, and they’re suddenly slotting together in more ways they ever imagined they could.
Perhaps it’s the way Suga had moved off his makeshift bed into Daichi’s, the way his legs and Daichi’s knot together, the way he snuggles his face into Daichi’s chest, ruffling his hair into unorganised tufts, (And to be honest, even Daichi’s having trouble convincing himself this is what normal friends do.)
Perhaps it’s the way they’ll grasp at every opportunity to hold hands, even if it’s just for a second. Like when Daichi’s playing a game and Suga’s sitting to the side, and they’ll score a point at Daichi will race to Suga, grasping at his hand and squeezing it firmly, warmly, like his life depends on it, ignoring the smugly knowing looks from the others throw him, trying to focus on the game and not how stunning Suga looks when a faint blush graces his cheeks.
(Daichi is definitely in love with this idiot, isn’t he)
(He knows he shouldn’t be happy about this, but-)
(Suga’s hand is just so warm in his.)
Suga kisses him first.
They’re hugging, every inch of themselves pressed against the other, and it’s not new for them. They hug for a bit too long, maybe, desperate to get as much of eachother as possible, and Daichi has stopped trying to kid himself into thinking this is what all people do with their friends.
And then, he feels lips against his own, and it takes a second for him to register who’s they are, and oh. oh, oh, oh.
Suga tasted like a summer's day, strawberries and cream, and everything Daichi thought he would.
He doesn’t realise he hasn’t been responding until the other pulls away, eyes cast to the ground, bottom lip wobbling. “I’m sorry,” he whispers hoarsely. “i shouldn’t-” he gasps a little, and Daichi realises with a jolt that he’s crying. “I shouldn’t have done that,”
He starts to pull away from their embrace, and Daichi’s heart stops because-
“Yes! Yes, you should have done that-” he says desperately, and smashes their lips together again.
He can feel Suga’s mindset change from, what? to, oh, to, oh, as the other relaxes into the kiss, chapped lips pulsating against his own.
“Wow,” he says when Daichi pulls away, smiling massively like Daichi is the sun. “Wow,”
Daichi laughs finally, a weight he didn’t even know existed lifting of his chest, and he can finally breath again. He rests his forehead against the others. “Wow, indeed.” he says, grinning like the lovestruck idiot he is, and Suga’s hands tighten on his waist.
Maybe later, start to make dinner and get ready for bed, like they always do, (But maybe this time a sitting a little closer, their evening peppered with stolen kisses), But for now, the are fine in eachothers arms.
(Maybe falling in love with your best friend is a good thing)
(Especially when that friend is Suga)