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Kei feels a sense of impending doom as soon as they are led into a room full of futons, and one of the faculty gives them an apologetic look as she turns to face them. He feels it, completely, in every one of his bones, when she opens her mouth. He doesn't know why. Maybe it's just having seen those looks before, usually off his mother when she announces they're spending New Year at his aunt's place. Never fun.

"So, I do apologise, but, you see, we made a slight miscalculation on the number of futons we would need, another member of staff saw the name 'Miya' twice and assumed it was a typographical error, and so, you see..." She mumbles, fumbling around with her hands like there is an easy solution to be found there, her red face indicating that perhaps she was indeed that staff member. Kei raises an eyebrow, as do most of the room. They're all tired, and they just want to go to sleep. "Is there a possibility, at all, that perhaps, two of you could maybe share? Only for one night, and we shall do our very best to rectify this situation tomorrow, I understand this is difficult, but I don't believe there are any extras within reasonable distance, you see..."

They all stare at her, puzzled. It's not exactly the first thing they expected her to say; the sense of imminent disaster builds, although Kei will be the very last person to volunteer to share.

Getting even more flustered, she flaps her hands in embarrassment, her face a stunningly bright shade of red.
"I'll confer with the rest of the staff and see if there's any other options! Please decide amongst yourselves in case there aren't, though." She nigh on runs out the room, pausing barely long enough to bow deeply, and Kei is certain she started running before she'd fully finished. Not particularly interested in mentally debating whether it counts as a respectful bow if you start running in the middle, he just glances around at the others.

"Before any o'y'all say 'nythin', I ain't sharing wi' 'Tsumu." Miya Osamu drawls, shoving his hands in his pockets. Atsumu sneers at him.

"I ain't sharin' with 'im either! He farts!"

Osamu makes an impressive kind of 'psssssh' sound.
"Not as much as you."
"How would’ya even know, asshole?! You're asleep!"
"So are you!"

"All votes in favour of having them on opposite sides of the room?" Kei suggests, crossing his arms. Most of the others raise their arms, which – thankfully – ends the argument between the twins. Mostly. They keep grousing at each other quietly, while Kei glances around the room again.

Sakusa looks visibly ill at the very notion of sharing with anyone. Kei is with him on that one, certainly. Hoshiumi looks like an ice demon who would warm his feet on your legs, and also seems like the kind of person to jump out of bed at 5am just to announce they were awake. Chigaya looks as though he’s trying to meld into the corner of the room, playing on his phone to avoid the whole situation. Kei guesses if he had to choose someone to share with, it’d probably be him, mostly for the reason that he looks like he’d sleep right on the edge just so he wasn’t touching anyone.

Motoya looks mostly disgruntled by it, like he doesn’t really care either way and just wants it sorted. Again, Kei can relate to that. He kind of wants to pick a futon, but then again, that might volunteer him for it.

He glances at Kageyama, frowning deeply at the Miya twins. Kei genuinely can’t tell if he even understands what’s been asked of him – knowing Kageyama, he’s been in a volleyball world ever since arriving and hasn’t left yet, certainly not to contemplate sleeping arrangements. He probably just assumes someone else will do it, unable to think of group dynamics off a line-marked court. Good for him, Kei thinks a little bitterly. He should probably be one of them having to share, because it seems like it would be funny to see how Kageyama, single child of the century, would react to that. He smirks to himself as he imagines the kind of outrage that would happen, but then gets to thinking who would make the funniest reaction.

Sakusa, certainly, but Kei doesn’t think he could be paid any amount of money to get in the same bed as someone else. He seems like the kind of guy who brought his own sheets because of his distaste of sleeping on someone else’s. Kei is quietly surprised, now he thinks about it, that he didn’t bring his own futon.

The rest of them he doesn’t think would have any particularly interesting reactions. Maybe Hoshiumi, but then those two are so obsessed and single-minded, they’d probably end up not sleeping and practicing instead. That would result in an incredibly ratty Kageyama, and a sleep-deprived Kageyama means everyone gets yelled at way more. Maybe less so here, but it will happen, and if it does, Tsukishima will get most of it, since he’s the one Kageyama is most comfortable with.

He uses the word ‘comfortable’ incredibly loosely indeed.

Although, having him share with either of the Miya twins could be interesting. As soon as he thinks about it, though, it makes him frown for no reason he can really put his finger on. It’s like… Kageyama almost gets on with them, but equally, there’s a feeling Kei gets about Atsumu, and to a lesser extent Osamu, that he can’t really trust them. Atsumu’s interactions with Kageyama set him on edge, just a bit, and he generally chooses to ignore it, and certainly hasn’t examined it closely. It’s probably just a sense that they’re taking advantage of Kageyama, but why would Kei even care about that? He doesn’t care about Kageyama. He’ll admit his talent, and the fact that he’s better than he was, but even so.

He doesn’t care about Kageyama, and that’s final. He’s not even thinking about that simmering weirdness right now, or the fact that Kageyama’s been acting kinda weird for a few weeks even before this camp.

It’s probably just been the thought of the camp itself, but it’s never happened before, Kei doesn’t think. It didn’t happen in first year, so unless he’s had a run in with someone here, but then, the one who seems to be getting the brunt of the weirdness is actually himself.

But that’s a puzzle he’s left in Miyagi, or tried to, at least. It’s Kageyama’s problem, and Kei doesn’t care enough to try to work it out.

He does not care about Kageyama. He’s good at avoiding things, and that’s a thing he’ll ignore wholeheartedly. Kageyama is probably just jealous Kei got invited. Hinata was too, but he’s got the flu. Kei thought there was some saying about idiots, but maybe that’s just colds, rather than the flu. Kei heard his mother had to practically lock him in the bedroom to stop him dragging himself over here.

He probably just imagined that, in actuality, but it's an amusing image. He smirks to himself, then sobers up and mentally thanks Hinata's mother for being sensible and not getting him to spread it. Hinata can keep his damn viruses to himself.

"Psssh!"

With that noise from Osamu, he becomes aware of a growing argument in the room, and realises the Miya twins never quite stopped grousing at each other.

“- you’d probably want to sleep with someone, manwhore.”
“Wha’s wrong wi’ that? Too innocent for that kinda shit, ‘Samu?”
“Not in a room full of other people, ‘Tsumu. That’s just gross.”
“Well, nobody said I couldn’t!” Atsumu remarks brightly, and turns, surveying the crowd. His eyes almost immediately latch onto Kageyama, and gain a gleam Kei would say that he hated the look of. If he had cared enough about the whole thing. Atsumu makes a lewd expression and saunters forward towards Kageyama. "Say, me an’ Goody-Two-Shoes here could always makes ourselves comfy... together... couldn’t we?"

And Kei would normally just let it go. Would have let it go the year before. Should have let it go. But from something about Kageyama's face that says he doesn't get it at all, to not trusting Atsumu as far as he could throw him off the court, to a hot ball of unpleasantness squirming in his guts, instinct takes over the few brain cells that don't think before they act. The remaining brain cells look on tiredly and do not stop him.

Just because he thinks Atsumu is probably joking doesn’t mean he trusts him to not be serious. Everything about it rubs him up the wrong way, and he may not care about Kageyama, but.

So he strides to stand in front of Kageyama and puts an arm in front of him, like that would really stop Atsumu. But it halts him temporarily, puzzled. He feels the rest of them staring at him, and kind of wishes he hadn’t done anything at all.

Why does he care? It's only Kageyama, but then, it's Kageyama. Kageyama who wouldn't know flirting if it kissed him square on the lips, Kageyama who's probably never had a stray thought since he found volleyball, Kageyama who is probably just about dumb enough to go along with anything if he thought it would make him better. The thought of Atsumu too close, unsupervised, to the dense-enough-to-be-a-black-hole Kageyama, makes Kei feel intensely uncomfortable. Makes him kind of want to lock Kageyama in a different room altogether.

The door opens.
"I'm terribly sorry, there really aren't any other futons..." She trails off, seeing Kei where he is, and maybe she's just grasping at straws, maybe she thinks it actually looks like they're agreeing on something or whatever, an incredibly stupid chain of thoughts happens in her head and her face lights up in relief. "So you two have decided to share for the night? Thanks for volunteering, we do have a slightly bigger futon over here you can use, you know where the bathrooms are, let us know if you need anything!" She says, and dashes away, as if sensing the disagreement.

Funnily enough, the rest of them snort, then scuttle off to occupy their own beds and mark their territories, leaving Kei and Kageyama in the middle of the room, dead still. Atsumu shrugs, and winks at Kei as if he knows something, and Kei swears murder will happen before these three days are up.

Kei is just trying to process. He was looking forward to a good night’s sleep, he’d brought ear plugs in case anyone snored so he wouldn’t be too tempted to strangle them, and he’d been going to pick the very corner futon to be furthest away from everyone.

Now he’s going to be the one sharing?

He doesn’t know how much worse it could get. Now though, most of them are settling onto futons and are not going to give them up easily.

Atsumu, still looking at the two of them, laughs raucously.
"If you don't wanna sleep with him, I could always swap wi' ya?" He drawls, and it seems likely to be engineered exactly to piss Kei off. Osamu snorts.
"Bet you ten ramen pots they don't make the night." He pitches in, and it swiftly descends, with the others making various bets as to the transient of this arrangement. Kei hates it, but he's nothing if not stubborn and refused to let people win. Furious, he leans over to Kageyama, still in his daze.

"You'd best not piss me off." He hisses, and storms off to attempt to get to sleep as early as possible. He wanted to read. He wanted to listen to music.
"Who said I was gonna piss you off! Maybe you shouldn't piss me off!" Kageyama snaps, his first words in some time. Probably in volleyball dreamland like always, his freakishly sharp mind providing video replays of all the plays he made and how he could tweak them to improve. Instead of focusing on real life. Instead of seeing the things in front of him. So much of his brain is trapped on a volleyball court, Kei swears that’s the reason he’s so utterly stupid off it. Most people would be at the same level of stupidity if only 1% of their brain travelled around with them.

"Maybe if you weren't so stupid and kept responding, it wouldn't be a problem." Kei returns acidly, and grabs his headphones.

"So you want me to ignore you, then." Kageyama spits, and for a second, Kei thinks about it. His heart kind of... droops, when he does, like that would be a bad thing. The very idea that he might care about Kageyama and the fact that he does talk to him pisses him off. His grip on his headphones tightens. "Too bad. You're in the team, so I have to get on with you! Besides I-" Kageyama halts himself dead in his tracks; Kei notices several of the others furtively - or not so furtively - watching, and turns on his heel. He doesn't want to examine Kageyama's weirdness now. He'd not found any solution before the camp, and he especially doesn't want to find one now, whatever he might find, before he has to spend 8 hours sharing a futon with him.

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with. I'm not interested in anyone making money on me." He says, casting acerbic stares at certain parties in the room. Much to his disgust, most of them don't react too much, and mostly with amusement and the occasional 'we'll see about that'. Kei decides to do what he does best and ignore it fully, lying down, tugging his headphones on and putting on his loudest music. Which isn't that loud, but it is at least continuous in its volume, leaving no chances for snippets of surrounding conversation. He hates having it too loud for fear of damaging his hearing – and knowledge of how irritating it is when everyone else can hear music from someone else's headphones – so he sets it at the exact volume required to cover up most things. If anyone shouts he'll hear it, but they don't.

It's only about half a song later when the futon shifts. Kei freezes on instinct, and glances across – it is indeed Kageyama, which just increases his discomfort. Their eyes meet, then skitter away, Kageyama gaining a constipated sort of look in the split second Kei keeps looking. He then resolutely closes his eyes, determined not to look, or make this weird, or think at all.

He has shared with his brother. It can't be any worse than that, surely. Kageyama isn’t as tall or gangly as his brother, and probably not as much into casual touches. Kei’s never seen Kageyama instigate any kind of friendly contact, at least, which is a godsend, but still. So he’s probably not going to find himself hugged to death, but equally, this whole thing is so awkward and irritating, he’s not convinced he won’t. But the thought of people handing over cash and ramen pots because he couldn’t keep his cool in such an annoying situation irritates him more. If he has to deal with their smug faces on top of a bad night’s sleep, he cannot be held responsible for whatever he does do.

It can’t be any worse than sharing with his brother.

But it is. His anxiety is such that every shift Kageyama makes is heightened, and Kei even feels his presence when he is still, an odd kind of emanating presence. The rest of them have started to settle down and someone's turned the lights off, so it just feels so close. He doesn’t want to sleep in his headphones, but the music is the only thing distracting him, so he clings to them for as long as possible.

But even in his edgy state, he’s still incredibly tired, so it doesn’t take too long for his eyes to start feel heavy, the ceiling only taking so much of him burning holes in it. Reluctantly, he pauses his music and delicately places his headphones on the rest of his stuff, then his glasses in their case, habitually softening the snap as it closes, and puts that too on top of his bag, nestled down a bit so neither of them roll off and get stepped on, hopefully. The world takes on an auditory clarity, and a visual blurriness, and Kei tries to relax.

There are blurry light patches where some of the guys are checking their phones, and some hissed whispers he doesn’t catch enough of to understand. There’s just enough light from the windows to make out some shapes. Simply the act of putting his headphones away – and having to look at his phone to pause it – has temporarily banished a modicum of his immediate sleepiness, and he once again becomes aware of his current predicament.

The futon, as the faculty member had stated, is a little bigger than the rest, but it is not big, by any means. Even as close as he can get to the edge without falling off it, their shoulders are touching. It’s a burning heat he can barely stand, mostly because it makes him think.

“Move over.” He grouches quietly, uncomfortably aware of his heartbeat. He’s not used to close proximity with people, least of all Kageyama. There’s a flick of movement, and a hmph sound.

“I’m not falling off for you.” Kageyama grouses back, and Kei recalls the bets, and bites back a returning taunt. Presumably Kageyama is as far away as he can get too, and there goes his thought that perhaps he might avoid that contact.

And he can’t help but think about it. Kageyama’s been acting weird for weeks now. Nobody else had really commented yet, but it was only a matter of time, and if Kei had noticed surely it was obvious enough. He doesn’t even watch Kageyama much, so surely someone like Hinata has picked up that Kageyama’s been acting weird.

Which is in itself weird. Kageyama is consistent to a degree that you could set your clocks to, Kei has always thought to himself. Emotionally, at least. He got the same level of irritated at the same things every time. He got the same type of ecstatic when they won, and the same type of begrudging defeat whenever they lost. He got the same type of glint in his eye when he respected a player, and the same type of anger when someone pissed him off or worse, didn’t try hard enough at volleyball.

Kageyama didn’t act different.

But now he was.

Kei hasn’t been able to put his finger on it. He just seemed quieter than usual, not really challenging Kei on the same things he always would, not rising up to the bait the same whenever Kei taunted him. There was a slight, but noticeable, lack of quality in the shots to Kei, in particular. Sometimes one of the others, but Kei hadn’t seen Kageyama fumble this much since difficult games in first year. Nowadays, settling into his skills and scouted for the National Team, he rarely fumbled like this, and his irritation with it seemed… wrong, somehow. It didn’t seem quite the same as it had – he didn’t promise to work harder, or blame some aspect of the spiker. No, he tended to glare at Kei as though his mere presence had the ability to mess things up, and turned away just as fast.

Kei’s been intrigued, to say the least.

It happened more in practice than in practice matches, although it did happen then too. Every time it happened in a match, the opposing team never really seemed to think much of it, but Kei couldn’t stop. His analytical mind had latched onto it like a difficult maths problem, and refused to let go, even as much as it irritated him. He had to work it out, partly because real matches were coming up soon and it better not affect this year’s chance at Nationals, but mostly because Kei just could not stop thinking about it, and Kageyama.

And the more he thought about Kageyama, and observed, and taunted and spoke to and worked with, the more he noticed. The way that Kageyama was actually always sending him glances. The way he was sitting closer than he ever had, but never really looking at Kei when he did so. The way that he’d shove his homework under Kei’s nose just as much as Yamaguchi’s, now. (Mostly because Yamaguchi was better at explaining maths to them, but Kei was better at English and Science. The rest, as far as Kei was concerned, wasn’t hard enough to help them with. Rote memory, Kageyama had already shown to be very proficient at, so Kei didn’t bother with those.)

So he’s found himself spending a bit more time before and after practices sitting with Kageyama going through homework concepts. Kageyama even seems to get some of them – for five minutes, anyway. Sometimes Hinata is there and other times he gets wrapped up texting Kenma and drifts off like he seems to more nowadays. It’s become a common enough occurrence, him and Kageyama in the library, watching Kageyama get more frustrated with something and him just smirking more and more because it’s funny and kind of- nice, in a weird way. The lights in the growing gloom set a halo in Kageyama’s hair, his brows furrowed and calloused hands twitching to spend fractions of a second sending a volleyball on abnormally accurate courses, rather than holding a pen.

Somehow, he never gets much work done at those sessions, even though he swears he’s working. He blames Kageyama entirely. Him and his unending stupidity.

Stupidity that’s led to this. If he’d responded normally to Miya’s taunts, Kei never would have had to step forward. If he’d even realised, none of this would have happened. Kei would be asleep in his own futon and never worrying about any of this.

“Just so you are crystal clear on this,” Kei murmurs as quietly as he can muster, turning his head to glare at Kageyama, “I’m blaming you for all this.”

He can’t really see properly, but Kageyama looks at him, and frowns. He does not, as Kei would have possibly expected, get angry.
“Why.” Kageyama mutters.
“I shouldn’t have to explain to you.” Kei returns, and Kageyama huffs.
“Tell me.”
“It was because you’re thick. You didn’t get it.”
“Get what.”

Kei is kind of glad that it’s dark. He can’t believe he’s having to explain this to Kageyama.
“What Miya was doing.”
“Which one?”
“Atsumu.”
“What was he doing?”

“Flirting, you numbskull.” Kei only says it, and says it quietly, because he’s sure that the others are just far enough away to not overhear. A few of them have started snoring, anyway, and the phone lights have all gone off.
“Oh.” Kageyama says, and pauses. “Oh…” He stops again. “Why is this my fault?”
“Because you didn’t get it.” Kei reiterates, annoyed.
“What, so you felt you had to protect me or something?”

Kei feels like his lungs stop working for a second.
“No,” he wheezes, acutely aware of how unconvincing he sounds. “Of course not. Anyway, this is just ridiculous.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I’m going to sleep.” Kei retorts, put off-centre. Protecting him? From what? He didn’t care if Atsumu had his wicked way with Kageyama – except he kind of did.

That is a whole ballgame he does avidly not want to think about right here, in this second, pressed up against Kageyama because there is nowhere else to go.
Kageyama hums, and he sounds kind of pleased. Kei turns away, and thinks so hard about music and volleyball and dinosaurs and very literally anything other than Kageyama, it gives him a headache, then bores him to sleep eventually.

The faster he goes to sleep the faster this situation disappears.


Except of course, that it is a situation that reappears upon waking up. The first time he wakes up, it’s far too early, and he’s been awakened by motion. He barely remembers it until later, and then wishes he had properly woken up, because he could have saved himself a lot of problems. The next time he wakes up, it’s to a camera shutter sound, and he feels warm and snug. And safe.

And somewhat trapped.

Kei decides to evaluate his situation firstly, and open his eyes next.

He is laid on his back, nothing abnormal about that. His left side is warmer than it should be, and there is a pressure across his chest, and his legs, and his whole left side.

He can guess, he thinks, but he needs to know, needs to check visually.

So he opens his eyes, and looks across and finds exactly what he ought to have expected. Kageyama is, for lack of any better word, flopped on top of him, head nestled into Kei's shoulder. His face is- remarkably relaxed, for once, not grinding his teeth or scowling like normal, and Kei just.

He doesn't know what to think. He knows what he wants to do, which is to not rouse him, or pull him closer. He feels like smiling, like taking a picture, like staying there for a while, like he's maybe possibly a little bit fond.

Fondness equals alarm bells. His eyes dart upwards, and find several of the other guys looking down at him - them. A smudge that looks like it could be Motoya has got his phone out taking a photo, and Miya Atsumu is grinning like like Cheshire cat. Kei squashes his eyes shut again, to give himself space, to think about this.

There proceeds to be a suspiciously Miya Atsumu sounding murmur of 'hah, gaaaa-yyyyyy' shortly followed by a slapping sound. Kei decides Miya Osamu is probably alright, but still, he's not staying in this situation. He needs to extricate himself and get some quiet. There's a level of controlled panic in the way he shifts sideways, and hears Kageyama groan. Discontent? Kei doesn’t want to think about it. He has just enough forethought to grab his glasses in their case, and ignores some suggestive and smug sounding voices as he pushes through them, to hide out in the bathroom.

Once there, he sets the glasses case on the side, and splashes his face with cold water. It does nothing to soothe his racing heart; it does nothing at all except bring him further into wakefulness and the awful realisation he has arrived at.

He’s fond of Kageyama.

He thinks, for a moment, that his brain has just skipped the friends stage, but then, it hasn’t, really. What are study dates in the library if not between friends? What are the teasing conversations, no longer as barbed as they used to be? What is the glare he gets when he calls Kageyama king, half-hearted and softer than usual? What are the allowances he’s been giving Kageyama, the more time spent with him, the more time dedicated to matching up with him? They’ve been friends, but Kei never realised. Like he never realised how much he’s been watching Kageyama, been thinking about Kageyama, and indeed been avoiding thinking about why he’s been thinking so much about Kageyama.

Yet still, this fondness, a pooling dripping sentimentality he’s never quite fully erased from his heart. It’s similar to the way he can’t quite throw out his oldest childhood toy, a stegosaurus with some of it’s plates falling off and patched up a hundred times. He’s used to Kageyama now, and in some ways looks forward to seeing him, looks forward to his blunt stupidity, the banter they have between them. The way they’ve started syncing up on court, and working together.

Fuck, he thinks to himself, glaring at his reflection in the mirror, clear now he’s put his glasses back on. How could he have let this happen? He doesn’t know what to do with this, he’s never had this before. Maybe that’s why he never saw it coming, creeping up on his blindside and taking him unawares. How is he going to get out of this now?

The door swings open, and Kei prepares to defend himself – but it’s Kageyama, and now he doesn’t know how to react. Stunned by his newest revelation, he just kind of nods. Kageyama has gone red, and stops.

And there’s a thick silence. Kei doesn’t want to admit that he didn’t mind it, but doesn’t quite want to say that he hated it either. He needs time to work it through, get on top of his feelings.

Kei decides to leave. He grabs his glasses and makes for the door, even though Kageyama is between him and it. He expects Kageyama to move. He doesn’t.

“Are you disgusted?” Kageyama demands, looking anything but peaceful like he did in sleep.

Kei thinks about it. Yes, would be one answer. He’s disgusted with himself for not noticing, for letting it go on so long. But equally, feelings aren’t quite so easily hauled into line. He’s not disgusted with Kageyama, particularly. He doesn’t care if anyone is that way inclined, he just had never thought he was himself. With little to no precedent, how was he meant to know?

“No,” Kei murmurs, “Are you going to move?”
“Are you running away from me?” Kageyama tries again, glaring defiantly up at Kei. Kei can’t quite meet his gaze.
“No.” Kei says, more certain this time. He means yes, of course. He needs time to think on it, analyse the problem, and find a solution. Needs to weigh the evidence, pros and cons, and external opinions. If he can get them without alerting the parties to the fact that he’s collecting them. Can’t be seen to be too interested.

“You are.” Kageyama states, blunt as ever. Kei huffs an incredulous laugh, but Kageyama continues. “You’re not even looking at me.”

Characteristically blunt, as always. Kei glares at him.
“Happy now?”

Kageyama looks surprised that he complied. Daunted, even. He swallows, a manoeuvre Kei cannot help but watch.

“Someone is going to come in, soon.” Kei mutters, eyes glued to Kageyama’s. Kageyama nods. “Are you going to move?”

Kageyama gets that face like he’s trying to solve a particularly difficult problem.

Then he reaches around the back of Kei’s head and pulls.

Caught in a moment of surprise, Kei doesn’t fight it; consequently, he smacks into Kageyama’s face with some force. There is an instant of nothing, then a flash of pain. He coils away, holding his lips and nose, trying to ascertain whether there’s bleeding or breakages.

“Holy shit, Kageyama!?” he screeches. “What was that? You trying to kill me?!”
Kageyama, in the midst of howling quietly, chokes, and ends up in a coughing fit. Kei brings his fingers away from his nose, and finding no blood – and no signature trickle at the back of his throat or down his nose – whips his head around. He’ll check his teeth in a minute. “What the hell was that.” He demands, and then- observes. Kageyama is red as anything, and although he does look like he’s choking, he’s not been doing that long enough to cause that reaction. He’s got one hand over his mouth and his eyes are flitting around frenetically. His brain starts clicking over, the previous conversation and everything prior, and fits it imperfectly together into- “Was that supposed to be a sorry attempt at a kiss?”

“No!” Kageyama shouts, too fast, too high pitched. Kei narrows his eyes.
“So it really was? Because that is not the way to do it.” Regardless of whether Kei actually knows the proper way to do it, he can be fairly certain that any way that involves possible permanent damage to his nasal cartilage is not it.
“Like you know better!” Kageyama spits, sounding faintly panicked.
“Clearly better than you, if that’s what you think is a good idea!”
“Why don’t you try then!” Kageyama dares him, and Kei swears that proto-kiss knocked a few brain cells loose, because he actually considers it.

“No.” Kei remarks, and stands up, intending to check his teeth for blood, and also to hide his face from Kageyama. “Because I’m not into messing with people like that.” It’s ridiculous to get his hopes up. Kageyama has the social skills of a slug, and the finesse to match. People cling to things in their sleep, it’s a natural habit left over from being an infant, and a human need to be close to things. It’s for warmth, more importantly, and therefore likely means nothing. Kageyama probably has some weird idea in mind that for some reason involves Kei.

There’s no blood in his teeth, and none apparently forthcoming. That’s good. He’ll go and get changed and start his day and analyse this all later, or better, after the camp. He’ll package away the hurt and the confusion, and dwell on it later. He’ll only get annoyed if he does that now.

But before he can turn and leave, there are footsteps across the floor, and a hand on his arm. He barely gets a chance to raise an eyebrow and take a breath to speak when Kageyama steals it from him.

It’s much softer, thankfully, although his bruised lips still complain. It’s clear still that Kageyama doesn’t really know what he’s doing, screwing his eyes shut, but he makes a good approximation; he weaves his hand into the fine hairs at the nape of Kei’s neck and makes him shiver. Kei’s wide eyes stray to the mirrors, reflecting this scene, black and blond, fuzzy out the side of his glasses.

They’re so different. So very different. How can they be here? How can they occupy the same space, and not explode like antimatter meeting matter? Maybe that’s why they’ve always fought before, but then why is this good, and not bad? Why does it feel like a summation of their parts, rather than a negative and positive clashing and negating the other’s effect?

He could push Kageyama away, right now. He could push him and all this away, and run. It occurs to him in the same breath that he gives in, closes his eyes and puts his hand on Kageyama’s shoulder, pushes back into the kiss, because now he thinks about it, the thought that Kageyama was organised enough to mess with him seems wrong. Unlikely, somehow. Kageyama is not known for his grand schemes off the volleyball court, nor his ability to manipulate people.

And Kei can make the most of the opportunity in front of him. If this is the only time he gets to do this, he’s not going to pass it up too easily.

By the time they separate, they’re both breathing harder than usual, and Kageyama frowns at him.
“I don’t mess with people.”
“I’m getting that vibe, yes.” Kei murmurs. “Someone’s going to come in here soon.”

Kageyama nods, and steps back. He keeps his eyes on Kei, expectant.
“But I want to do that again.” Kageyama says.
“Of course, but not now.” Kei returns, thinking it’s been a surprising amount of time without interruption. It’s only when he notices Kageyama’s eyes widen that he realises. “I mean…” Ah, what the hell. “I need to think about this. Later. We have camp to survive, first.”

“Later.” Kageyama repeats, sounding pleased with himself. “Alright. I can wait.”

Kei grimaces as he hears loud footsteps and voices storming up to the door.
“You were always going to have to.” He remarks, but, quietly, to himself, he can reflect that he’s kind of looking forward to it.

But he can enjoy teasing Kageyama by making him wait.

Where’s the fun in making it easy? Plus, he has no interest in giving any of the others any smug pleasure. In addition, he’s going to be a rich man if they all cough up their debts to him. He might even see to sharing a few ramen pots with Kageyama.

If he’s lucky. If he hasn’t actually knocked any teeth loose.

Well, there’s room for improvement, and time for it, too. Things are looking up.