Work Text:
Daichi’s ceiling looks wrong; sure, it’s his ceiling, featuring the same water stain shaped like a cloud (or a fish, according to Suga), but it looks tilted, the angle decidedly off. Daichi blinks, but the ceiling doesn’t correct itself.
He sits up and the world rushes around him, and Daichi gets the distinct feeling that sitting up was a mistake.
His head pounds, and his throat feels like he swallowed gravel, burning and scratched. He puts a hand flat on the mattress to stabilize himself and breathes through his nose.
Okay, he thinks. That’s probably not good.
He checks his phone. 7:43 AM. School starts in less than 20 minutes.
Daichi puts the phone down, very carefully, and frowns. As captain, he has to show up. As a student, it's his last year of high school.
Last year. After this, there's no more morning practice, no more Suga on one side and Asahi on the other, no more Nishinoya and Tanaka wrecking havoc among Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita while Kiyoko stares them down. He's thought about the ending before, but it always feels so far away. He’s never thought about missing the beginning of the end.
His eyes are burning. That's the fever, he tells himself. Obviously.
He needs to call Takeda-sensei. That's the correct, responsible, captain-appropriate thing to do. He scrolls through his contact, thumb shaking—
—and calls Kuroo.
He realizes this about two seconds after the call connects, when Kuroo picks up with a groggy "Sawamura? Oh shit, thanks for waking me up, I completely slept through my alarm—" and Daichi's malfunctioning brain very slowly catches up to what his thumb has done.
The thing is, and this is not something Daichi likes to acknowledge, Kuroo is the first contact his hands go to. Has been for a while now. He had to scroll past Suga to get there, past Asahi, Tanaka, and his own mother.
"Oh," Daichi says. "Sorry. Wrong number, I meant to—"
"You sound terrible," Kuroo cuts him off, suddenly sounding much more awake. All of his sleepiness gone, just like that. "What happened to your voice?"
Something about how fast Kuroo sharpens when it comes to him makes Daichi's chest pound. He blames the fever for that, too. The fever is working a lot of overtime this morning.
"I'm fine."
"You sound like you swallowed a frog."
"I'm fine," Daichi repeats with more conviction, which is completely undermined by the cough that takes over his whole chest halfway through his sentence. It’s not a small cough by any means, and Daichi is slightly humiliated once the attack on his lungs is over.
Silence on the other end.
"Daichi." Kuroo's voice shifts, a certain edge to his tone that Daichi can only remember hearing during a tough game or a rough night. Daichi has catalogued this, involuntarily, the way you catalogue things you're not supposed to be paying that much attention to. "How long have you been sick?"
"I felt fine yesterday."
"That's not what I asked."
"I woke up like this." Daichi mutters."It's probably nothing. I'll be fine for school, and for practice later. I know Takeda-sensei has been meaning to plan the training camp with Nekomata-san soon."
"Sure," Kuroo says, and Daichi notes the sound of his sheets rustling, feet presumably hitting the floor. "What's your temperature?"
"I don't know, hot?” Daichi says, automatically pressing the back of his hand to his forehead, though it feels pointless, considering that his skin feels hotter than the sun.
"How very eloquent of you. Seriously, what's the number?" Another rustle, a whispered shit as Kuroo attempts to get dressed while talking on the phone.
"I didn't check with a thermometer. It’s in the cabinet," Daichi says, clenching the sheets as he attempts to get up again. Nope, that’s not happening, Daichi thinks to himself, blinking with a wince as he shifts the phone on his shoulder.
"Daichi."
"I was trying to call Takeda-sensei,” Daichi changes the subject, voice trailing off. "I pressed the wrong contact."
A pause. Then Kuroo lets out a breath that's almost a laugh, except for the fact that it sounds exasperated as opposed to humorous. "Okay. Call Takeda-san. But don't go to school, and don’t even think about going to practice."
"I have to go to school."
"You physically should not–"
"It's the first day. The last first day, at that." The words come out as a whisper, cutting Kuroo’s tangent off. "And besides, I’m captain. Some of our new recruits should be stopping by to see what Karasuno’s all about. I should be there."
There’s nothing but silence on Kuroo’s end. Daichi keeps his eyes closed, because opening them feels like more effort than it should be.
"I'll come over right now," Kuroo says. "It’ll take a couple of hours, but as long as you drink some water and rummage around for some meds, I’ll bring some soup and whatever else you need. I'll be there."
"You don't have to do that. It’s your first day of school too."
"Yeah, but it’ll be the same old for me. It’s not anything insanely special that I’ll be sad missing it like you are," Kuroo teases, his voice lilting. “And before you try to pull the captain card on me, Suga-chan is more than capable of introducing the team to the new potential recruits. It’ll just be a day anyways.”
"Seriously, it’s fine." Daichi exhales. He knows how to do this part, has been doing it for years without even thinking. It's nothing, don't worry. I can handle it. He reassures everyone; He does it especially for Kuroo, because Daichi can't afford for Kuroo to look too closely. To see how much Daichi would let him care for him, if he asked. "You have your own first day. I don't need people worrying over me, it's just a fever, I'll text Suga—"
"Sugawara," Kuroo says, "wasn’t the one you called, sounding like you’re dying.”
"It was an accident—"
"Daichi." Kuroo’s voice isn’t pitying, but it’s warm in the way that it always bypasses every wall Daichi has painstakingly built. "You called me. I’m pretty sure it wasn't an accident."
Daichi opens his mouth, and doesn't say anything. He blearily opens his eyes and tilts his head, reassessing his ceiling.
It’s still tilted.
"I don't want to be a burden," he says finally, and it comes out much quieter than he meant it to. The fever is making him honest, and he's going to keep blaming the fever for everything that happens today, he's already decided.
"Yeah," Kuroo says, softness seeping into his tone. "I know. That's exactly why I'm coming." A brief pause lingers, like he's deciding something. "Because you're not a burden, and I think you should hear that from someone in person."
Daichi doesn't say anything to that. He doesn't trust himself to.
"Just give me a couple of hours," Kuroo says. "Call Takeda, drink some water. I know you’ve got some meds lying around somewhere, so take some of those too. Don't try to get dressed for school, just go back to sleep."
The call ends, and Daichi sits on the edge of his bed, grabbing his phone from where it was situated on his shoulder and stares at the blank screen. Against his own will, the words of comfort that Kuroo gave him circulate around his head, and he shakily opens up his contact screen again, forcing himself to ignore it.
(He thinks about those words the entire time he's calling Takeda-sensei.)
🌡️
His room feels too muggy, so after his calls with Takeda-sensei and Suga, he wobbles over to the couch, pulling a blanket over himself. He brought his phone with him, and he props it up against the cushions, squinting as he reads the team group chat.
> Sugawara: Daichi said he's sick, everyone be normal about it.
> Shimizu: Oh, no wonder Takeda-sensei looked so down. I’m sure he’s sad about our fearless leader being under the weather.
> Azumane: Aw no :( Feel better soon!
> Tanaka: CAPTAIN NOOOOOOO 😭😭😭
> Kinoshita: Be sure to rest up!!
> Narita: Damn, and on the first day of school?
> Nishinoya: WE WILL DO KARASUNO PROUD FOR YOU DAICHI-SAN 🕊️
> Ennoshita: He’s not dead, you know…
He doesn’t respond, but he does react with a little heart to each message. These kids. His last year with them, and he's spending day one sweating through a blanket on his couch. He presses his palm over his eyes and tells himself firmly that he is not going to be dramatic about this. (He is a little dramatic about it. But at least he’s home alone, with no one to view his brooding).
He doesn’t know what time it is when the doorbell rings, but he’s startled awake, and he slowly sits up. The sun beaming through the window makes him believe it’s definitely mid afternoon, but he can’t be too sure since he forgot to take his meds before passing out on the couch.
Pulling on a mask that was conveniently on the table, Daichi makes his way to the door the way you move when you've drank too much; careful, deliberate, and one hand trailing the wall.
"Daichi,” Kuroo says through the door, his voice soft so as to not disturb the neighbors. “ It’s me, and I come bearing soup. Open up."
"I told you not to come," Daichi says, his hand already on the handle.
"I appreciated your input, but obviously I didn’t listen. Besides, I wasn't even going to make it on time for class. Open the door."
Daichi opens the door, and he can’t help the small smile that makes its way onto his face.
Kuroo is on his front step with a convenience store bag in one hand and a paper cup in the other, his Nekoma jacket unzipped over his school uniform, hair doing its usual thing. He takes one look at Daichi, and his expression falters.
"You look terrible," Kuroo says, not unkindly.
"You said that already."
"Still true." He holds out the cup. "Tea. It’s got honey and lemon, just the way you like it. No, don't make a face, just take it."
Daichi tries to take it, his fingers brushing against the cup. The warmth seeps through the paper into the points of his fingers, his hand is shaking. Kuroo, ever so observant, gently pulls it back and makes a move to come inside, and Daichi keeps his hand held out.
"You can't come in," he says. "You'll get sick."
"I get my yearly flu shots. And you have a cold, probably, not the plague." Kuroo takes a small step forward. "Move, Daichi."
"It’s—"
He stops before he says anything. The words are right there, same as always: it's fine, you really don't have to, I'll be fine on my own, thank you for the soup and tea. He's said them so many times they've become automatic, a reflex even, until right now, standing in his own doorway with Kuroo looking at him like that, in his rumpled school uniform from sitting on a train for hours to come see him.
"I was scared, you know," Daichi mumbles instead.
Kuroo raises an eyebrow, but leans against the doorway as Daichi backs up a step.
"About today." Daichi looks down at his bare feet, and his voice stays steady. The mask muffles everything, which helps. "It's the last year. I kept thinking, you have to be present for all of it. You have to show up every day, because there aren't that many left. I know that sounds—"
"It doesn't sound like anything," Kuroo says, cutting him as usual.
"I’m overreacting, probably."
"It sounds like you. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with calling a good pal when you’re feeling sick. Everyone needs someone."
Good pal. Right, that's what they are. Good pals, that's exactly what they are, and Daichi knows this, has known it, has been very okay with knowing it. Sighing, Daichi takes a step to the side, and Kuroo comes in.
Kuroo follows him to the living, making sure he sits down before heading to the kitchen. He’s been here multiple times before, under the pretense of some fellow captain bonding, but they rarely keep their focus on volleyball.
Daichi’s blinking slows as he hears Kuroo rummaging in the kitchen, and he hears an exasperated sigh.
“Daichi, did you even try to take your meds? The ones here are all sealed.”
“I…forgot.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kuroo says, rounding the couch and setting the now warm soup on the coffee table, sitting criss-crossed on the floor. He puts the tablets on a napkin, and the tea on the wooden coaster Asahi gifted his parents for Christmas last year.
The soup makes Daichi feel warm, and it helps. After making sure Daichi is eating and doesn’t look like he’s going to keel over, Kuroo takes the armchair across from him. It’s Daichi's armchair, the one no one else ever really sits in when they come over, but it’s always been where Kuroo goes.
They don't talk much. They don't need to, which is maybe the most inconvenient thing about Kuroo. Being quiet with him feels just as easy as everything else. Daichi sips his tea and drinks soup, all while Kuroo watches him detachedly (though the fondness behind his gaze doesn’t seem very nonchalant to him).
"You should sleep," Kuroo says, eventually.
"I'm not tired."
“Your eyes are basically shut at this point."
“I'm fine," Daichi automatically responds, frowning and forcing his eyes to stay open.
“You say ‘I’m fine’ a whole lot for someone who’s definitely not fine,” Kuroo says, raising one eyebrow.
"Thank you," he says instead. "For coming all the way here."
Kuroo looks at him for a moment. An expression moves across his face, gone before Daichi can process it in his sick state, and then he shrugs with one shoulder. "You would've done the same."
He would have, that's the thing. He knows, without question, that he would have. For any of his friends, but especially Kuroo. He’s not going to think about what that means.
"I'm going to miss it," he says quietly. "Next year we’ll be somewhere else doing something else and I don't know how I’m gonna do it."
"Yeah, me too. At least we’ve all got some semblance of a plan, right? We won’t be alone in doing it."
He doesn't mean to fall asleep.
He's aware of it happening in the slow, helpless way of things in a fever: Kuroo’s voice blurring into white noise, the blanket feeling especially warm, the distant sound of Kuroo shifting in the armchair. His eyes close. He thinks, very vaguely, that he should probably say something back, but his mouth doesn't cooperate. He’s already drifting off into a lovely dream.
🌡️
When he surfaces, the light through the curtains has gone gold. It’s definitely evening now, and there’s a glass of water on the coffee table, with two more tablets of fever medication beside it. Kuroo is still in the armchair, scrolling through his phone.
Daichi watches him for a moment without moving, drowsy and warm. Kuroo's face is illuminated by the soft glow of his phone, his usual smirk replaced by a small smile. He must have sensed Daichi's eyes on him because he looks up, phone lowering to his lap.
"Hey, sleeping beauty's awake. How’re you feeling?"
"Better," Daichi's voice comes out raspy, but not as painful as before. He sits up slowly, testing his body's reaction. The pounding in his head has reduced to a dull throb, and he doesn’t feel like the world is spinning anymore. "Did you stay all this time? You didn’t have to."
Kuroo shrugs, but he averts his eyes. "Someone had to make sure you didn't die in your sleep. Your team would never forgive me."
The words are casual, but something in Kuroo's tone makes Daichi's chest tighten. He reaches for the water, his hand steadier now, and takes a sip. The cool liquid soothes his throat.
"You missed your first day," Daichi comments, setting the glass down. "For me."
"I would have missed more than that," Kuroo responds quietly, meeting his gaze. The intensity of it makes Daichi's breath catch. "You know, when you called this morning, I thought something was really wrong. For all the years that I’ve known you, you’ve never gotten sick. The way you sounded..."
"I'm okay," Daichi starts, but Kuroo shakes his head.
"Let me finish." Kuroo leans forward, elbows on his knees, his phone shifting in his lap. "All I could think about on the train here was what if I lost the chance to tell you something I've been wanting to say for a while now."
Daichi's heart begins to pound harder than it had from the fever. "Kuroo, you’re the one being dramatic now."
"I like you, Daichi. Not as a rival captain, not as a 'good pal,’ though those things are true too. I like you in the way that makes me want to skip my first day of school and travel hours just to bring you soup when you're sick." Kuroo’s face is nervous, overpowering his usually confident demeanor.
"I called you first this morning. Not by accident,” Daichi confesses, feeling his face heat up. “I like being your good pal, but I don’t think good pals feel like this.”
"Yeah?" A slow smile spreads across Kuroo's face, like a cat that caught the canary (or in this case, a crow).
"Yeah." Daichi feels his own lips curve upward. "I think I've just been waiting for you to say something first."
Kuroo moves from the armchair to sit beside Daichi on the couch, close enough that their knees touch. He takes Daichi's hand, uncaring of his current sick state, and laces their fingers together. The warmth of his palm feels better than the soup he ate earlier.
"So," Kuroo says, voice softer now. "Now that we've established that, can I take you on a proper date when you're not dying of the plague?"
Daichi laughs, then immediately regrets it as his chest protests. "You're an idiot," he says fondly, squeezing Kuroo's hand. "But yes. I'd like that very much."
They sit in comfortable silence for a while, hands still joined, watching the golden light shift through the window. The future that had seemed so daunting hours ago now feels slightly different. Still uncertain, but not quite as lonely.
🌡️
A week and a half later, Daichi is back on the court, and his world feels back to normal. The squeak of sneakers on polished wood, the familiar thud of a volleyball meeting a forearm, the shouting of his teammates– it's all exactly as it should be. He feels whole again, his captain's authority firmly back in place.
The first years for this season are an interesting bunch, and he can’t help but be drawn to their crazy dynamics. That’s not the only new, refreshing thing, though. There’s a practice match between a couple of the schools, and his eyes keep finding Kuroo in the stands during their match against Date Tech.
It's a friendly scrimmage, really, just a way to ease back into things. It was originally supposed to only be Date Tech and Karasuno, but Nekoma’s schedule conflicted with other times, so they crashed the joint practice, insisting on a new, pre-season tradition.
As Daichi calls for a toss, he feels Kuroo's gaze like a physical touch. He misses the set by a hair, the ball bouncing off his fingertips.
"Captain's off his game today!" Tanaka yells, but he's grinning as he dives for the ball.
"Focus, Sawamura-san!" Kuroo calls from the stands, his voice carrying easily in the gym. There's a smirk on his face, but his eyes are soft.
Daichi flushes, somewhat grateful for the fever he can no longer blame it on. He gives a sharp nod, turning his attention back to the game. But it's difficult, because every time he glances toward the stands, Kuroo is watching him.
After a couple of matches, the team disperses to go outside for lunch, and Kuroo hangs back. The gym slowly empties, the sounds fading until it's just the two of them.
"You were staring," Daichi says, stacking the last few volleyballs onto the cart. He tries to be casual, but his voice comes out accusatory.
"Was I?" Kuroo leans against the wall, arms crossed. "I was just making sure the esteemed Karasuno captain wasn't about to collapse again. Can't have you missing the first official joint practice of your last year."
"I'm fine," Daichi says automatically, then catches himself. The words taste different now. He sets the last ball down and turns to face Kuroo fully. "I'm fine," he repeats, softer this time. "Thanks to you."
Kuroo's smirk melts into a genuine smile. "Anytime. So... about that date."
"Right." Daichi's heart does that stupid thing again, the fluttering that has nothing to do with a fever. "I was thinking—"
"Friday," Kuroo cuts in. "There's a new ramen place near the station. We could go after practice, that is, if you're not too busy being captain."
The teasing tone is familiar, but the invitation is new. Daichi feels a grin spreading across his face.
"I think I can pencil you in," he says, trying to match Kuroo's casual tone. "But I'll have to check with my vice-captain first."
"Suga-chan already approved," Kuroo says, pushing off the wall. "He might have threatened to get your freaky first year duo to pelt volleyballs at me if I hurt you, but it was a very supportive threat."
Daichi laughs, a real, full laugh that echoes in the empty gym. Of course Suga knew and gave his blessing.
"Friday, then," Daichi confirms, closing the distance between them. He's not sure who moves first, but suddenly they're standing close, close enough that Daichi can see the flecks of green and brown in Kuroo's eyes.
"Pleasure doing business with you," Kuroo says, his voice low. He reaches out, his fingers brushing Daichi's wrist. "Try not to get sick again before then, yeah?"
"I'll do my best. I’m sure it won’t be too probable for me to get sick again in such a short amount of time," Daichi promises, his gaze dropping to Kuroo's lips. The air between them feels charged, heavy with unspoken words. He leans in just a little, as if being pulled by a string.
The gym doors bang open. "CAPTAIN! I FORGOT MY WATER BOTTLE!" Nishinoya yells, skidding to a halt. His eyes widen as he takes in the scene: Daichi and Kuroo standing entirely too close in the empty gym.
Kuroo drops his hand, stepping back with a casualness that feels practiced. Daichi resists the urge to sigh.
"Right here, Nishinoya," Daichi says, gesturing to the bench where the bottle sits.
"Sorry, Captain!" Nishinoya grabs his water bottle and scurries out, but not before giving them a suspicious look over his shoulder.
Daichi meets Kuroo's eyes, and they both break into laughter. The moment is definitely broken, but Daichi feels warmth knowing their next meeting will probably give him the results he wants.
"Well," Kuroo says, backing toward the doors. "Friday after practice. Don't be late."
"I'm never late," Daichi calls after him. “Unlike some people, I do value other people’s time.”
"I know," Kuroo's voice floats back. "That's why I like you."
The doors swing shut, leaving Daichi alone in the gym with the volleyballs and the ghost of Kuroo's touch on his wrist. He smiles, feeling lighter than he has in weeks. The last year stretches ahead of him, full of possibility.