Work Text:
There is only one explanation for why Hinata Shouyou shoots up in bed at 4:48 AM.
Hinata clutches the sheets, heart pounding and ears ringing. His gaze falls upon the curtained window on the other side of the small bedroom. The air feels different, somehow. Drier, and crisper; like a wind has blown through the room and taken the warmth with it. It doesn’t feel uncomfortable, though. Hinata rolls out of bed and pushes the curtains open.
Snow. Delicate white flurries tumble towards the ground and coat everything in sight, barely visible in the pitch black that comes with early winter mornings. Hinata has always had some sort of sixth sense for snow. He remembers mornings like these from years ago, when his eyes would shoot open out of nowhere, and he’d feel an indescribable itch until he shook his mom awake and dragged her outside. Needless to say, Hinata has always loved the snow.
Now, his face breaks open in an unadulterated grin. He giggles juvenilely into his hand, too ecstatic to care about anything other than the sight before him. The hour of day no longer matters to him. In seconds he’s dressed in sweatpants, boots and the thickest coat he owns. A hat is shoved onto sleep-mussed orange hair and mittens are slipped onto calloused hands, and then Hinata is outside.
Despite the dark, the surroundings are highlighted by the slight white glow that the snow emits. All the streetlamps have been extinguished and the moon’s light washes over everything below. Already, snow is piled at least fifteen centimetres deep under Hinata’s boots and crunches deliciously when his feet dig into it. Hinata’s mouth stretches wider with amazed glee. He twirls, bending down and scooping up an armful of powdery snow only to throw it up and let it rain down upon his head. Hinata strips himself of his shoes and socks and dashes around like a madman, kicking snow up behind him and letting the biting chill of winter prick into his bare skin; a prominent reminder that this is all real.
Then Hinata remembers Kageyama. His bright eyes glitter with a new motive as he tumbles back into the small apartment that he and his boyfriend share. Hinata bursts in barefoot through the front door, making a beeline for the living room where Kageyama has wound up sleeping.
Kageyama is still snoring softly on the couch when Hinata thunders into the living room. “C’mon Tobio, wake up, wake up it’s snowing.” Hinata grabs Kageyama’s shoulder and shakes hard. Kageyama’s eyes slowly flutter open and he blinks up at Hinata slowly, confusion creasing his forehead.
“Whaa time’s it?” Kageyama slurs, voice thick with sleep.
“It’s time to get up, because Tobio. There’s snow.”
Hinata adjusts his grip on his boyfriend’s shoulder and with a small huff, hauls Kageyama off of the couch and into a half-standing position. Kageyama offers a quiet groan of protest. “Work with me here,” Hinata grits, trembling with the exertion that comes with holding up 150 pounds of dead weight.
“Put me down…” Kageyama mumbles, blinking lazily.
“Today calls for special measures, though!” Hinata drags Kageyama towards the door, ignoring his drowsy complaints. “When you wake up you’ll see,” Hinata mutters into his boyfriend’s black hair.
Down the stairs the two of them trudge until Hinata pushes the front door of the apartment open with his foot and they stumble outside. The snow has since picked up speed, now racing down towards the ground. Hinata inhales deeply and savours the crisp, icy air that rushes into his lungs. Even Kageyama wakes up, staring at the sky incredulously.
“Oh,” Kageyama says. Hinata sees the newfound light in Kageyama’s eyes. While he stands distracted with his face to the sky, Hinata bends down, crouching behind a bush and gathering a clump of snow in his mittened hands. A devious grin crawls onto his face as a quick plan forms in his head.
Hinata stands. Aims. Throws.
Thump. Straight to the back of Kageyama’s head, caking his hair with chunks of snow. A trail of slush slides down the nape of Kageyama’s neck and disappears under the collar of his shirt as the snowball melts.
A shrill cry bursts from Kageyama’s lips, and his entire body spasms in a violent shiver from the chill. Cruelly broken from his reverie, Kageyama whirls around to face Hinata, expression murderous. “Dumbass! What the hell?!”
Hinata squeaks and backs away, holding his arms up in front of his face protectively. “Help,” Hinata whispers, and then Kageyama surges forward and pushes Hinata backwards into the snow. The cold hits Hinata all at once, soaking through his pants and prickling at his skin. He shoots to his feet at the sudden chill, shoving Kageyama aside with a garbled scream. “Oh, it’s on.” A glint settles into Hinata’s golden eyes as he shakes himself like a dog, spraying snow in every direction. Kageyama only narrows his eyes in response, mouth widening in a terrifying grin.
They spring apart, crouching and packing snow into hard, round projectiles; spurred on by a silly old rivalry from times gone by that will never quite fade. Before long, snowballs hurtle through the air and explode across each other’s chests and backs. Snow buries itself in Hinata’s hair and soaks into his scalp. It flies into his eyes, nose, mouth; melts under his clothes, sends chills of adrenaline and winter and the inexplicable feeling of living in a moment coursing through his veins. Both Hinata and Kageyama scream and giggle like they’re young, dumb, broke high school kids again.
After almost half an hour of sprinting circles around each other, throwing and taking hits, Hinata and Kageyama collapse onto their backs in the snow, gasping for breath. Hinata lets his eyelids droop with fatigue and watches his breath cloud in front of his face. “I’m so cold,” Kageyama rasps, voice broken from screaming, “yet so hot at the same time.”
Hinata turns towards him. “You are very hot,” he drawls, arching an eyebrow dramatically. Kageyama groans, feigning annoyance, but Hinata doesn’t miss the blush colouring his boyfriend’s cheeks before he turns away. “Aw, c’mon, you love me,” Hinata cooes.
Kageyama is silent for a while. “Yeah.” His voice is impossibly soft.
Now it’s Hinata’s turn to blush. Flustered, he hauls himself to numb feet and picks up his shoes and socks with one hand. He holds a hand out to Kageyama. “C’mon, Bakageyama. Let’s go inside before we get hypothermia.”
Kageyama rolls to look up at Hinata, and Hinata is taken aback by the tender look in his dark eyes. “Thanks,” Kageyama utters simply, grabbing Hinata’s hand and pulling himself to his feet shakily. The two of them make their way inside, hand-in-hand.
Hinata remembers a time when Kageyama was different; harsher, and rougher. Always yelling, fists clenched, splittle flying. Trying to be the best. He had claimed that he didn’t need anyone to move forward, least of all Hinata. They had clashed constantly, rage and frustration at each other bubbling and boiling over until one or the other or both snapped. Anger had turned into remorse, which had turned into an odd sense of understanding. Somewhere along the way, they became friends, and then something more. Even so, the Kageyama from before would never hold anyone’s hand without at least denying it afterwards.
Now, Hinata squeezes his boyfriend’s cold hand. Kageyama squeezes back easy as blinking, and they stumble back into their apartment. They trip into the living room and fall over each other onto the couch. Snow melts and drips into the cushions and onto the floor, but Hinata and Kageyama are too exhausted to pay it any mind. Before long, they both succumb to unconsciousness.
━━━━━━
The next time Hinata wakes, half the sky is streaked with fiery red and oranges, while the other half shines bright and blue. The colours blend together in the remnants of the sunrise. Long shadows stretch across the wooden floor.
Hinata props himself up on the couch with his elbows and winces at the slight shiver that runs down his spine as he moves. He hasn’t changed out of his snow-soaked clothes, and now the fabric is stiff and cold, pressing uncomfortably against his damp skin. Hinata blinks once, twice, and realizes that Kageyama is no longer with him on the couch as he’d been before the two of them had slept the rest of the morning away.
“Where’s he sleep-walked to now?” Hinata mutters to himself, rising from the couch and tugging off his soaked sweater. His left foot has gone completely numb. Hinata limps to the bedroom. When he opens the door, he finds Kageyama exactly where he expects, pressed up against the bed in a tiny ball, looking like he intended to sleep on the bed but didn’t quite make it before exhaustion took over. Hinata knows better than that. The old habit was borne from restless days and over-exhaustion, training his body to stay in constant movement until Kageyama didn’t know anything else, even in his sleep. Nowadays he doesn’t sleep-walk as often, but as the sayings go, old habits die hard.
Hinata crouches down beside Kageyama and leans in close to the sleeping boy’s face. Hinata takes a moment to gaze at Kageyama’s delicate features; the slant of his thick eyebrows, the erratic flutter of his eyelids as he dreams, the slight upturn of his sharp nose. Memorizing the look of serenity on his boyfriend’s face, Hinata blows into Kageyama’s ear.
Kageyama’s entire body seizes up and his eyes shoot open. He jolts forward with a sharp inhale, sending Hinata toppling backwards. “Christ,” Kageyama hisses, a hand flying to cover his ear. “I fucking hate you.” Hinata scrambles away from Kageyama, cackling evilly.
Kageyama lunges forward and the two of them tussle for mere seconds before Kageyama has Hinata pinned down by the shoulders. Kageyama straddles Hinata’s stomach, crossing his arms with a scowl. Hinata lies gasping for breath, clawing weakly at Kageyama’s legs. “Ged’off,” Hinata puffed.
“Never.” Kageyama smiles menacingly down at Hinata. But he plants a quick kiss to the corner of Hinata’s mouth and rolls off him anyway.
Hinata sits up beside Kageyama, dropping his head into the crook of Kageyama’s neck. He tries to ignore the burn in his cheeks. They stay there for a while, watching the last vestiges of night fade into blue. Despite the sun, the floor becomes more and more freezing the longer Hinata sits on it. Before long he’s sneezing into his elbow, chills running through his body.
Kageyama looks at him concerningly. “You ok?”
“Mmngh,” Hinata sniffles. “I’m gonna get up. My ass is freezing.”
“It’s from being so flat.”
“Shut up!” Except it comes out more like “shuddub”, because Hinata’s nose chooses that moment to stubbornly plug itself.
Kageyama snickers. “Very threatening.”
Hinata only stands and glares down at him, afraid to say any more for fear of sounding like a fool. He has no need for words, however, when he begins sneezing again. Claws of cold prick at his skin, and he trembles uncontrollably. The smug look on Kageyama’s face morphs into one of worry as he stands up in front of Hinata.
“Are you alright?”
“Does it look like I am?” Hinata rasps, blinking his eyes rapidly. He sits on the bed, feeling slightly dizzy.
“Dumbass. I think you got sick from running around in the snow at four in the morning.”
Hinata crosses his arms. “You were the one in your pajamas. Why aren’t you sick?”
“Because I’m not a dumbass.”
“That doesn’t even make sense! Bakageyama!”
Kageyama relents, sighing frustratedly. “Just get in bed,” he says, tugging the covers over Hinata. “I’ll make breakfast.”
“You’ll do what?” Hinata croaks.
“Shut up. I’ll figure it out.” And with that, Kageyama sweeps out of the room.
Hinata sighs and lays back in bed. “He’ll be fine this time,” he says to himself. He’s just about to close his eyes and settle in when a thunderous crash echoes through the small apartment, followed by the insistent whistle of the kettle. Hinata shoots out of bed, ignoring the pounding in his skull, and hurries into the kitchen. Kageyama stands comically still and wide-eyed amidst two overturned frying pans, one with yellow yolk leaking out from it onto the floor. On the stove, the kettle screams, steam hissing from a hole in its lid.
“What happened?!” Hinata screeches.
“I don’t know!” Kageyama bellows, sounding slightly afraid.
“Just–Oh my god, let me help.” Hinata shuffles quickly to pick the smouldering pans off the floor, scraping the remains of the poor egg off the floor. His nimble fingers quickly turn the stove off.
“Sorry,” Kageyama mumbles into the collar of his shirt. Hinata only rolls his eyes good-naturedly.
“It’s fine, Tobio.”
Except it doesn’t end there. Every time Hinata retreats to his and Kageyama’s room to sleep, something happens. Kageyama takes his and Hinata’s soiled clothes to the washing machine, and moments later bubbles are foaming out of the laundry room. Hinata has to rush to the scene brandishing a mop and bucket to clean up the mess. Then, Kageyama tries to water the houseplants and ends up pouring an entire container of vinegar into the pots. At the sound of his boyfriend’s panicked screeching, Hinata runs out again.
(“It’s okay, Tobio! It’s okay! Vinegar is actually good for plant growth!”
“But an entire fucking carton of it? Why was the vinegar by the plant anyway?!”
“More importantly, how did you manage to pour all the vinegar in without noticing?”
“It looks the same as water! How was I supposed to tell?”
“Well, you can smell it now, can’t you?!”)
Antics along the same lines continue until Hinata feels himself beginning to shake off the cloud of dizziness and exhaustion that comes with being sick. He knows it’s abnormal to be feeling the opposite as he should, and it’s probably a bad sign, but he just can’t not come to Kageyama’s rescue whenever he does something stupid.
After a particularly ridiculous incident involving Kageayama and two hissing cats on the balcony, Hinata’s had just about enough. “How about you… come inside for a bit, okay?” Hinata pants, broom in hand. He watches the last of the cats as they disappear into the apartment next door, having just shooed them away.
Behind him, Kageyama stands awkwardly, head bowed. “Good idea.”
They head inside. Hinata feels himself beginning to calm down. The heat drains from his face, and his iron grip loosens on the broom, a little too much. The broom clatters to the ground. Suddenly, the world is very blurry. Hinata sways on his feet, then topples forward and knows nothing else.
━━━━━━
When Hinata comes to, he is tucked comfortably in bed. He feels a little woozy, but fine otherwise. Beside him Kageyama sits down on the covers, scowling.
“What’s wrong, Tobio?”
“Nothing. Go to sleep, you need it.”
Hinata sits up a little. “Not until you tell me.”
“I told you, it’s nothing. Dumbass.” It’s thrown in almost as an afterthought. Kageyama looks too pensive.
Hinata lays back down, his abs already aching. Damn, he really is sick. “Stop thinking. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Shut up.”
“Never.” Hinata sticks his tongue out, then closes his eyes. Soon, his breathing evens. He’s just drifting off when he hears the low rumble of Kageyama’s voice.
“I’m such a dumbass. I didn’t even do anything to make you feel better. I tried to make breakfast for you, but ended up almost burning half the kitchen down. I tried to water your stupid plants but ended up making our apartment smell like a chemical spill. And I tired you out so bad that you fainted. You’re right, Shou. I really am a little stupid, aren’t I?” Kageyama takes a deep breath. “I’m so… I’m sorry.”
No reply comes. When Kageyama finally looks down at Hinata, his boyfriend is fast asleep. Hinata’s pinched, ill face has smoothed out with sleep. Small beads of sweat still dot his forehead though, and Kageyama reaches over with a cloth to gently wipe them away.
Grudgingly, Kageyama rises from the bed. He glances at Hinata one last time, a lump under the covers with just his forehead peeking out and a bright shock of orange hair. Hinata looks impossibly small curled up on the side of their bed. Kageyama’s heart pangs, and he makes a decision. He leaves the room and strides to the front door, tugging on proper boots and a thick coat. Kageyama grabs a scarf from the coat rack and winds it around his neck, only to realize it’s Hinata’s from the distinct smell of cinnamon. Kageyama pays no mind to the fact. Silently, he exits the apartment.
━━━━━━
Sugawara likes to think of himself as a calm person. He rolls with the punches, goes with the flow. Whatever happens he takes in stride. Being the vice captain of a high school boys’ volleyball team does that to a person, after all. Nothing fazes him anymore.
At least, that’s what Sugawara thought. Now, he stares in utter disbelief at the top of his former teammate and underclassman’s head as Kageyama drops into the deepest bow Suga’s ever seen, right on his front porch.
“Sugawara,” Kageyama wheezes. “I need your help.”
Suga has only seen Kageyama like this one other time. Back when they were in high school and Hinata had first confessed to Kageyama, he had run to Suga’s classroom, flustered and stammering, carrying a slightly crushed box of what looked like homemade chocolates. “Hinata just told me he liked me,” Kageyama had hissed. “What does that even mean?!”
Sugawara had grinned up at him. (Kageyama had always been taller.) “What do you think it means? Judging by the colour of your face, I think it’s pretty clear.”
“I-I-I-”
“What do you need help with? You like him, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but–”
“–Then what are you waiting for?” Suga had laughed, unable to contain the feeling bubbling up in his chest any longer. “Hinata still needs your response.”
It looks like now, even after all these years, nothing has changed. Just by the look on Kageyama’s face, Suga can tell it’s about Hinata. He almost laughs. “I think you’d better come in.”
━━━━━━
“Just hang your coat here,” Sugawara says as Kageyama enters the house. It’s a moderately sized living space with large windows and bright rooms. And potted plants… everywhere. Sugawara sees Kageyama staring at the pots lining every imaginable windowsill and sitting in every corner and grins. “Daichi’s gotten into a weird caring-for-plants funk as of late. You’ll have to forgive him. Though, you can’t help but admit they look kinda nice.” Kageyama nods soundlessly. He’s glad Daichi and Sugawara are living together. The house seems too empty for one person.
The hardwood floor creaks slightly as Kageyama and Sugawara make their way into the living room. An kotatsu that Kageyama wishes he and Hinata had sits in the center of the polished floor. “Make yourself at home,” Sugawara gestures towards the kotatsu and hurries into the kitchen. Kageyama sits reluctantly, having expected the visit to be short. He had planned to beg his friend for help and be on his way home before Hinata woke up. Ah well, Kageyama thinks distantly. A visit was overdue anyway. Hopefully the advice Sugawara was about to give him would be worthwhile to be a little late back home. (That, and the kotatsu table is warm in a way that chains Kageyama’s body to the floor under it.)
Suga returns with a tray of tea and plops down beside Kageyama under the kotatsu. “So,” he says, a knowing glint in his eye. “What happened with Hinata?”
“Crap.” Kageyama winces. “Am I that obvious?”
“No, I’m just perceptive.” Sugawara winks. “It doesn’t matter how I know, anyway. Out with it.”
“I–Hinata’s sick,” Kageyama stated bluntly. “We were messing around in the snow, and he got a cold. And I tried to help, but I really fucked everything up, Suga. Oh god.” Kageyama buries his face in his hands. “He collapsed because I was putting him under too much stress and how he has a stupid fever because of me. And I don’t know what to do… I wish I could take care of him better and he’s probably really mad and–”
“–Hey.” Kageyama feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Let me show you something.” Suga suddenly stands, disappearing into a side room. Kageyama lifts his head in confusion. When Suga returns, he holds a small, thin book in his hand.
“This has been passed through the whole team except for you and Hinata. I’ve been meaning to give it to you guys. It’s a photo album of pictures that Ukai and Takeda along with some other spectators like Tsukishima’s older brother took of us playing volleyball in Karasuno,” Suga explains, setting it down on the table.
Kageyama wonders distantly how a photo album was related to Hinata getting sick, but he looks down at the pictures nonetheless, trusting that Suga has some elusive moral of the story at the end of all this.
He’s struck by how young he and Hinata and everyone else on the team looks in the photos. There are shots of them in their first year, all too eager to be on the previously renowned Karasuno team and make it to nationals again. Hinata is just as tiny now as he was then, but gazing at a picture of a 15-year-old Hinata jumping to spike, Kageyama realizes that Hinata has really changed over the years. He’s broader now, his hair shorter. He isn’t so clumsy and petulant, pestering Kageyama until he yells at him.
As he flips through the images, memories come flooding back. The day they had their first practice match. Summer training camps; sizzling meat, and the sound of cicadas at night. Their loss to Seijoh. Their victory over Seijoh. Facing the almighty Shiratorizawa, and somehow coming out on top. Reclaiming Karasuno’s spot in the national competition. But most importantly, all the moments in between. Second-year Nishinoya and Tanaka bawling, Kiyoko suspiciously in the background. The team messing around in the Sakanoshita convenience store. Daichi giving Hinata a piggyback. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima sitting on the front steps of the gym, their backs to the camera. Ennoshita scolding the first-years with a mildly fond look on his face.
And so, so many pictures of Kageyama and Hinata. Kageyama grimaces at the look on his younger self’s disgustingly wistful face in every photo containing him staring at Hinata, while the latter remains blissfully unaware. “I really pined over him, didn’t I.”
Sugawara laughs. “I’m glad you realized it.” He flips to another page. “But look. You weren’t the only one.” He points to a photo centered around Hinata, who has a blinding smile on his face and a slight flush on his cheeks. He’s in the Karasuno jersey, so Kageyama isn’t sure if the red tinting Hinata’s cheeks is from the excitement of a game or something else. But then Suga points to the corner of the photo, where someone’s back with a big number 9 printed onto their jersey stands. “Hinata liked you from the start.”
Kageyama blushes. “Where are you going with all of this?” But he already has an idea of the answer. A plan is already formulating.
Suga seems to read his mind. “I think you know,” is all he says with a cheeky grin.
“Can I…?” Kageyama begins.
Suga hands him the photo album knowingly. “Of course.”
━━━━━━
Kageyama has just enough time to run to the store and return home to get everything ready before Hinata wakes up. He pads out of the bedroom in one of Kageyama’s oversized shirts and sleep-mussed hair, and it’s everything Kageyama can do not to blush.
“What’s all this?” Hinata’s voice is still croaky, but he sounds and looks considerably better than the last time Kageyama saw him.
“I… wanted to apologize,” Kageyama starts. “For messing everything up and making you faint. I really am a terrible boyfriend.” He gestures towards the couch he’s sitting on, which has been covered in blankets and pillows. On the coffee table sits a tall glass of water, a bottle of medicine, and a steaming bowl of egg on rice (also Hinata’s favourite) along with the Karasuno photo album. “I… I know it’s not much, but I got a recipe from Sugawara and I tried my best to make it properly and…” Kageyama trails off, seeing the shock on Hinata’s face.
After a long pause, Hinata says, “You did all this…? Just because I got a little sick?”
Kageyama ducks his head. “Well–when you put it that way… you–you don’t have to make me feel embarrassed about it.”
Hinata seems to snap out of it with that statement, and a huge grin spreads across his face. He bounds over to the couch and plops down beside Kageyama, impossibly close. “Cozy!” The colour really has returned to his cheeks.
Kageyama is stunned by the look of utter joy shining in Hinata’s eyes. How the orange-haired idiot manages to be this excitable even with a fever is beyond Kageyama. (Not that he’s complaining. He doesn’t want to see Hinata curled up in bed, deathly pale and sweating again.)
Hinata picks up the chopsticks lying on the table beside the bowl of rice. “Not so fast,” Kageyama snatches the chopsticks away. “You need to take your medicine first.”
Hinata pouts. “But I don’t wanna…”
Kageyama rolls his eyes. “It’s just two spoonfuls. I even found the banana flavour you like.”
“Really?!” Hinata uncaps the medicine bottle and eagerly goes to chug it.
“Stop!! You dumbass!” Kageyama tries to wrench the bottle out of Hinata’s hands, but Hinata’s slender fingers are surprisingly strong.
They wrestle on the couch for a bit before Hinata’s breathing becomes overly laboured and he loses his grip on the medicine. He falls back, sweat beading on his forehead again. Kageyama notices immediately. Crap, he thinks. It happened again.
“Stop overexerting yourself!” He exclaims frustratedly, setting the medicine down and draping one of the blankets on the couch over Hinata’s shoulders and surrounds him with extra pillows. Patiently he spoons the medicine into Hinata’s mouth. “You’re such a child,” Kageyama chides, but there’s no bite behind the words. His chest is warm.
“Good thing I have you taking care of me, then,” Hinata replies. He’s calmed down and curls deeper into the blankets and pillows. Kageyama hesitates a bit before pulling Hinata closer to him.
“Do you want the rice now? If not I can reheat it later.”
“I’ll have it now.” Hinata reaches for the bowl and is about to take a bite (with Kageyama staring apprehensively) when he suddenly withdraws. “Wait… you sure you didn’t put something weird in it?”
“No, idiot!” Kageyama yells indignantly. “I got a good recipe from Sugawara and followed every step!”
“You went to see Suga?” Hinata asks. He seems satisfied with Kageyama’s answer and begins eating. “Hey, this is actually pretty good.” He grins up at Kageyama. “Thanks, Tobio!”
Kageyama flushes bright red. “Y-Yeah, don’t mention it,” he mutters.
“You didn’t answer my question. You went to see Suga?”
“Yeah. I was kinda panicking, you know. I thought you were mad at me and I felt bad.”
“Aww, the King does have feelings after all!”
“Shut up and eat, Shouyou.” Kageyama retorts. The old nickname “King” doesn’t sting quite like it used to when Kageyama was a hotheaded, indescribably insecure tenth grader. He’s long past things like that.
The next moments pass with Hinata eating enthusiastically, wrapped in blankets and leaning against Kageyama’s chest. Kageyama is silent while watching Hinata, too caught up in the feelings bubbling in his chest.
When the bowl is finally cleared, Hinata sighs contentedly. “You surprised me, Tobio! Turns out you can cook after all!” He snuggles closer against Kageyama so easily that it seems instinctual.
“Figures I should be able to do something useful around here,” Kageyama mutters.
Hinata frowns. “Hey. Look at me.” When Kageyama doesn’t turn his face, Hinata nudges his cheek with his hand. He’s a little taken aback by the unrest on Kageyama’s face. I guess he really feels guilty, huh, Hinata thinks. “Hey. I don’t blame you.”
“Well, you should.”
“Good thing that’s for me to decide, then, because I still don’t. I know you were just trying to help. Stop beating yourself up over it, okay? You look constipated.”
“Hey! I don’t–wh–” Kageyama splutters. Hinata bursts out laughing and curls over as Kageyama looms over him. They both end up sprawled over on the couch. Kageyama lays half on Hinata’s stomach and Hinata struggles feebly under his weight. They’re both laughing breathlessly.
“Get off,” Hinata wheezes. Kageyama raises himself up on his elbows so as not to crush Hinata, then leans down again to kiss Hinata on the lips. He’s stopped inches before by a sweaty hand across his face. “Stop, you’re gonna get sick,” Hinata giggles.
Kageyama scoffs, but settles for a peck on the cheek instead. He sits up afterwards and Hinata sits up with him, resuming leaning against him.
“Anyway, I’ve been meaning to show you this. Sugawara gave it to me.” Kageyama slides the photo album off the coffee table and shows it to Hinata. “It’s pictures of the team from high school.”
“Woah!! Cool! I didn’t even notice people taking pictures of us,” Hinata exclaims, and begins flipping through the photos. “Aw, Kageyama, look at your face!”
“Shut up, you’re one to talk,” Kageyama retorts weakly, but Hinata’s face hasn’t really changed apart from higher cheekbones and a wider jaw.
“Oh my god, I look so obviously in love with you here,” Hinata groans, putting his hand over the same photo Sugawara had shown Kageyama to prove that Hinata was just as smitten with him as he was with Hinata in their first year of high school.
They spend the rest of the afternoon looking through the photo album, encased in warm blankets. Later, the sun is beginning its early descent into night and small snowflakes drift down outside the window. Hinata is dozing, pressed tightly against Kageyama. Kageyama leans down and gently presses his lips to Hinata’s forehead. As if sensing it, Hinata snuffles and blinks his eyes open. He looks a bit confused until he tilts his head up and sees Kageyama, upon which a lazy smile stretches across his face. “Tobio,” Hinata says quietly, and Kageyama’s heart is so, so full.
“Shouyou.”
“Thanks for everything today. It means a lot,” Hinata says. “I already feel better.”
“No need to thank me,” Kageyama replies gruffly. Hinata only tucks his head into the crook of Kageyama’s neck with a smile, and puts a warm hand in Kageyama’s. They stay like that on the couch, wrapped in blankets in front of a coffee table littered with an empty bowl, an empty glass, and a photo album full of memories. And it’s nothing extravagant, but it’s more than enough.