Hinata squirms, kicking his heels against the carpeted floor of the waiting room. He really shouldn’t even be here; it’s not like he’s dying or anything. And it’s really none of Kenma’s business how many times a day he pees!
He’s his roommate, not his mom – why the hell is he even paying attention to that.
“Pervert…” he mutters to himself.
The old woman across from him suddenly looks up from her book. She winks at him.
He looks away quickly, cheeks aflame.
“Hinata? Hinata Shouyou?”
Oh thank god.
Hinata jumps up at the call of his name and follows the nurse to the exam room.
“So what brings you in today?” She asks, fitting Hinata with the blood pressure cuff after he hops up on the table.
“Um…” he mumbles, “I guess I pee too much.”
The nurse smiles. She’s cute – small and blonde. Not exactly his type, but—
What? He knows when girls are cute!
“Alright,” she says over the sound of the velcro as she rips the cuff off, still with a smile, “the doctor will be in shortly.”
“Thank you,” he replies, looking around the small room while the door clicks shut. The walls are blue. The table he’s sitting on is blue. The counter with a box of extra-large gloves sitting on it is blue. The gloves are fucking blue.
Hinata feels… contrast-y.
He could be doing literally anything else with his time right now. It’s the summer, for Christ sake! He’s got things to do, balls to spike, gardening to…
Okay he doesn’t garden, but if he did—
He startles at a knock at the door.
“Y-yes! Come in!”
There’s a pause, and then:
“I was planning on it,” a deep voice rumbles as the door swings open.
And there, absently shutting the door while staring down at Hinata’s chart, is the most attractive man Hinata has ever seen.
And when eyes finally raise to his, Hinata decides that blue is his new favorite color.
Hinata has to consciously snap his mouth shut to hide his awe.
The doctor’s long white coat seems to accentuate his height – his long legs, primarily – and Hinata can see the way his t-shirt stretches slightly over his well-formed chest through the part in it.
“Wh-where—“ Hinata rasps out. His face burns and he clears his throat, trying again: “Where’s Dr. Ukai?”
“Oh, he retired a few months ago,” the doctor says, bored, carefully slipping Hinata’s chart in a slot on the door, “I’m Dr. Kageyama. Call me Tobio.”
“Sho—H-Hinata,” Hinata stutters, kicking himself. “I’m Hinata… Shouyou.”
The doctor gives him a blank stare, and when he steps forward, Hinata instinctively leans backwards, eyes wide. “Yeah. I know,” Tobio replies.
And something in his answer gives Hinata pause. Aren’t doctors supposed to be friendly? He thinks to himself. He frowns. “Nice to meet you,” he presses.
But the doctor just hums some uninterested agreement, stepping forward once more and reaching a hand into his breast pocket. “What brings you in?” He asks flatly, fishing out a pen-light and clicking it on, flashing it into Hinata’s eyes.
“Ah—um,” Hinata blinks. Jesus, is it this guy’s first day? “I… isn’t it in my chart?”
Dr. Friendly just hums again, replacing the light into his pocket.
“So then—“ Hinata’s breath catches when the doctor steps forward fucking closer, almost between Hinata’s legs and raises two… very large, very nice, well-manicured hands up towards him. The doctor stills, fingers inches from his face.
Hinata looks rapidly from hand to hand, lips parted. “U-um… shouldn’t you be wearing gloves?”
And Tobio drops his hands, quirking a brow. “Are you dirty?”
“What!” Hinata gasps, affronted as hell. “No!”
“Well then,” he raises his hands again, and for the first time, Hinata can see the flicker of a smile tugging at the very corner of his lips. It’s gone in a second. “Gloves aren’t necessary for this.”
As soon as cool fingertips graze his throat, Hinata shivers. He screws his eyes shut – he can’t help it – while Tobio prods softly at… whatever in his neck.
“Are you cold?”
“N-no,” Hinata says quietly. He hates the fact he knows the doctor can feel the thick swallow beneath his gentle hands.
And when they finally pull away, Hinata releases the breath he’d been holding and cracks his eyes.
Tobio is looking at him funny, scowling almost, if Hinata didn’t know any better, but he unloops the stethoscope from around his neck and places a hand on Hinata’s shoulder. “Breathe normally,” he says, pressing the thingy to Hinata’s back.
Hinata forgets how to do that.
But it doesn’t seem to matter, because Tobio just segues into asking him to take a few deep breaths; the way his exhales shudder out of him makes his already hot face feel like it’s on fire, and he would like very much to casually drop dead.
“Alright,” Tobio mumbles, replacing the stethoscope around his neck, “lie back.”
Hinata wets his lips and swallows, slowly reclining.
Once on his back, he stares up at the ceiling, absolutely mortified. And really, he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, or why he’s suddenly so hypersensitive. Yeah… Dr. Grumpy is hot as hell… and yeah… it’s been a while since he’s gotten laid… or, well, since he’s even been touched by anyone.
But fuck, it isn’t like he’s some hormonal teenager anymore, those days have long since passed, and it’s not like he’s not around attractive people all the time (not this attractive, but still) he’s a fucking professional athlete! Everyone in his life is hotter than average – they are pretty much required to be…
Hinata stiffens, pulling in a sharp breath when Tobio rucks his shirt up, but then—
He yelps at the first press of fingers firm against his stomach.
Again, Tobio stills.
Mortified doesn’t come close to it anymore.
But when Hinata dares slide his eyes over to the doctor, he’s met again with that little quirk of a smile.
Hinata claps his hands over his eyes and lets loose an audible whimper of embarrassment.
“No,” he eventually grinds out. He keeps his hands firmly in place while Tobio finishes whatever it is he’s doing. It shouldn’t feel good – it doesn’t feel good, but, fuck, it does feel good.
It feels so good.
He silently mourns the loss when Tobio pulls away.
“So,” Dr. Kageyama says as Hinata sits up – his whole body feels hot, tingly with embarrassment and… a few other things. He chews nervously on his lip, watching the way those hands slip the chart out of the slot again, the way long fingers grip the pen while they scrawl some note, and the way ocean-blue eyes flit around the page. But then they’re looking at him again, a brow above quirking expectantly.
“What?” Hinata asks, shaking his head quickly.
“I asked you how often you’ve been urinating.”
“Oh um…” he rubs the back of his neck nervously, eyes pulling to the ceiling. “Like ten times a day? Maybe?”
“Mmhm,” Tobio replies, tossing the chart onto the counter, leaning back onto it and crossing his arms.
For some reason, this makes Hinata bristle.
Am I bothering you? He wants to ask, but doesn’t.
“What color is it?”
“What!?” Hinata squawks.
Tobio sighs, uncrosses his arms and rubs his hands down his face in a display of clear exasperation.
“The color, dumbass.”
The casual insult hits Hinata like a brick to the stomach; his mouth falls open, a noise or something rattling around in his throat before he finds his voice.
“When you pee,” the doctor speaks slowly, patronizing, “what color comes out?”
Hinata is absolutely aghast. He blinks dumbly, silent for what seems like several minutes.
“I don’t know!” He finally cries, throwing his hands up. “Pee color!? Yellow? Sometimes!?”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Dr. Dickface smirks. “Do you drink a lot of water?”
“Of course I do!” Hinata balls his fists atop his thighs, seething. “I play volleyball for eight hours a day, I have to or else I’ll die!”
And Tobio jerks, immediately standing up a little straighter – his eyes widening. “You play—o-oh. I… I see,” he says, looking away and rubbing at his chin in contemplation. He flicks his eyes back up, and they suddenly seem a bit softer. But his gaze pulls away quickly and he reaches back for his chart, flipping it open before scanning the sheet. “And you’re…”
Hinata watches angrily as Tobio’s eyes widen even further.
“…you’re twenty-seven? Seriously?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re…” Tobio blinks at Hinata, face blank when he tosses the chart back onto the desk, “short.”
“And you’re a dick!” Hinata snaps back. He’s wondering why he’s still sitting on the table. He doesn’t need this shit! This isn’t how doctors are supposed to behave towards their patients!
But to Hinata’s immense surprise, Tobio dissolves into the first genuine smile he’s seen from the man, and Hinata literally jolts backwards, placing his hand over his chest, and when the doctor breathes out a laugh, Hinata’s stomach flips over. But then he shakes himself, forcing a scowl before jumping off the table.
“If you’re just going to insult me, then I’ll gladly take my pee-business elsewhere—“
“Okay okay, I’m sorry,” Tobio says with a wave of a perfect hand. “It’s just that not many people of your… stature play volleyball.”
Hinata pauses. “Wait,” he says, “do you play volleyball, too?”
The doctor nods, he looks off to the side fondly. “I played all throughout college. I still play a bit when I can, but… you know,” he gestures vaguely around the room. “Work.”
“Oh,” Hinata says, the anger slowly receding. He doesn’t really know what else to say.
“Anyway,” Tobio waves a hand again. “You’re probably just overhydrating, but just to be sure,” he turns, then, snagging two gloves from the box beside him, “I’m going to check your prostate.”
It takes Hinata a moment to understand what was just said; he watches Tobio slip on the gloves.
“You’re… you’re what now?”
“Prostate exam,” Tobio replies, turning back towards him.
“I uh… wait—“ Hinata’s heart leaps up into his throat, his pulse skyrocketing. “A-are you sure that’s necessary?” He asks, backing into the table.
But Tobio just shrugs, oblivious to Hinata’s distress as he slides open a drawer beneath the counter. “Pretty standard procedure for the symptoms you’re describing.”
Hinata’s mouth feels dry; his breath starts to quicken as he watches the hottest man in the world uncap a fucking bottle of lube.
“H-hold on a second,” Hinata rasps, “I’ve—I mean—“
“It will only take a second, and it’s not as bad as most people think,” Tobio explains, drizzling thick, clear liquid over his gloved fingers… his long, strong, perfectly proportioned—
“That’s not! Ah—um!” Hinata stammers, desperately looking for some kind of escape – some trap door or magic curtain or hole—
Oh god no, not a hole.
“Settle down, dumbass, it’s not going to hurt—“
“I know it’s not going to hurt! That’s the—why do you keep calling me that!” Hinata stomps his foot while Tobio rolls his fingers together, presumably warming the lube.
Hinata tries really fucking hard not to appreciate the consideration.
“Just trying to lighten the mood,” the man says with a smirk. “I need you to drop your pants and bend over the table.”
This isn’t happening. There’s no way this is happening.
But somehow, shaking fingers fumble at the button of his shorts anyway, and Hinata finds himself willingly turning around, red-faced and trembling as he lowers his shorts… then his underwear.
He’s breathing heavily when he drops his head onto his forearms, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable and he can feel the other man move up behind him—
“Move forward a little,” Tobio says quietly, placing his un-lubed hand at the base of Hinata’s back. The pressure of it makes his breath jar, and Hinata obeys, slowly sliding forward and whining out a pitiful little sound.
“You’re okay,” the doctor says. Oh, cool, now his bedside manner kicks in. Hinata nods the best he can, wrapping his head up in his arms and groaning.
“Now—“ Tobio draws his hand back to Hinata’s hip, and Hinata can’t manage to suppress the shudder. But then the warmth of the hand is gone – it’s oddly sudden. And Tobio doesn’t say anything else for a long moment.
Oh god, what? Hinata thinks.
“Oh god, what?” He mumbles into the table.
“Um…” Tobio clears his throat, “what position do you play?”
Hinata’s head shoots up. “What!?”
“Volleyball,” Tobio says. “What position?”
Hinata drops his head back down. Is it possible to mentally conjure an aneurysm?
“Middle blocker,” he grumbles.
“Ah,” the doctor says softly, “makes sense.”
“What makes sense?” Hinata rolls his head to the side to speak at something other than the sweat-damp bench paper beneath him.
“You… look like you do a lot of jumping.” Hinata can hear the smile in the doctor’s thick, quiet, rumbling voice. And suddenly there’s a hand on his hip again. “I need you to move forward just a little more—okay, that’s it, now—“
“NNgh!” A throaty, gasp of a noise shakes out of him when his hardening cock grazes against the cool table, his whole body twitching beneath Tobio’s palm.
“Are you okay?”
Hinata claps his hands hard over his mouth, his shuddering chest pressed hard against the table, shaking him with every gasp of breath. He nods frantically.
“Are you sure?” Tobio’s voice seems so dangerously close to him, his hand solid and comforting at his hip.
Hinata draws in a shaky breath and nods again, eyes screwing shut.
“Okay,” that deep voice breathes, “just cock your hips for me—“
“Wait! Wait, stop!” Hinata pleads, unable to take it anymore. “Just wait!”
“I… I uh…” Hinata’s brain whirls around every possible excuse, “I have to go to the bathroom!”
“You have to pee?“
“N-no! I uh… the other one!”
“Oh,” Tobio says, pulling away completely. “Alright.”
Hinata breathes the biggest sigh of relief when he hears the gloves snapping off. He bends down and tugs his pants back up inhumanly fast while the doctor is busy tossing his gloves in the waste bin. He pulls his t-shirt down as far as possible in the front when Tobio turns back around.
“Third door on your right,” he says, pointing, a small smirk curling slowly onto his lips.
Hinata throws open the door and runs past him with a mumbled thank you, right past the bathroom and through the door of the reception area. Once the door clicks behind him he leans his hands down on his knees, gasping raggedly for breath. Ge grabs at his racing heart.
What the fuck, he thinks, what the actual fuck.
His head shoots up at the hesitant voice. And he realizes he’s in a room full of people – patients still waiting to see their doctors.
“Can I help you?” The voice peeps again, and he whips around to see the cute nurse from before seated at the reception desk
He hunches his shoulders, doing his best to avoid the scrutiny of his fellow patients as he approaches the window.
“I um…” he says quietly, avoiding the girl’s kind, worried eyes, “I would like to request another doctor.”
“Oh! Um, alright… is everything…”
“Is there a… a female doctor I could see?”
The nurse blinks. “She’s… yes, but she’s on vacation… I can make an appointment for next week?”
“Yes… yes please,” Hinata looks at his feet.
He jumps a little when the girl leans up into the window, voice hushed,
“I know Dr. Kageyama can be a little scary, but really he’s—“
“He’s an asshole,” Hinata hisses through his teeth, cheeks hot.
And surprisingly, the nurse sits back in her chair, blatantly hiding a smile behind her hand. “Okay sir,” she says, looking back at her computer and click-clacking at the keys. “I’m putting you in with Dr. Kiyoko next week. Same time?”
Hinata nods sheepishly.
He snatches his appointment card and makes to high-tail it out of the office…
Until he hears a sharp throat-clear from behind him. He freezes, blood ice-cold as he turns.
And there is Dr. Kageyama, leaned against the doorway, coat gone, with his arms crossed over his solid chest. His lips quirk up at the side and he twiddles the fingers of one hand in Hinata’s direction.
Hinata squeaks like a baby animal, and then he turns on his heel and flees.