Work Text:
One More
The large hall echoed with sounds—two pairs of sport shoes stomping and squeaking against the volleyball court's floor, the strike of a palm slamming a string of consecutive serves over the net, the smack of them against two receiving arms—and their exhausted breaths. The steady rhythm was randomly punctuated by a ball hitting whatever surface it encountered as it aimlessly flew out when Hinata failed to catch it properly.
Tsukishima huffed sullenly as he watched Hinata fumble yet another receive, and the ball bounced off into the distance. But Tsukishima couldn't complain. After all, for reasons too embarrassing to tell the others, he'd volunteered to stay behind with Hinata until Sugawara would be back to close things up. They'd given him some surprised looks, but the team had been happy that Tsukishima was showing interest and therefore hadn't enquired deeper into his motives.
"One more!" Hinata called out before the ball had time to hit the ground, or in this case, the row of benches on the upper level. One more one more one more—the only words spoken within the last half an hour. At least they were alone so there was no chance of hitting anyone else, and no-one but the oblivious idiot got to witness Tsukishima's current state.
Tsukishima looked through the net at the shorter figure, already crouched and waiting for another ball to receive. Hinata's shirt was soaked with sweat, his arms were red from repeated hits and each receive must hurt more than the last, but he looked nowhere near ready to quit. His eyes burned as bright as ever, and Tsukishima had to grudgingly admit that he kind of admired that endless seeming enthusiasm, stupidly stubborn as it was. How the sight also made his chest feel tight in a strange way was another matter entirely. His cheeks felt heated and it had nothing to do with the exertion, and everything with the irritatingly energetic guy across the court. The fact that Tsukishima couldn’t figure out why was annoying the hell out of him.
He picked up another ball, his fingers gripping it a little too tightly.
"You really suck at this," Tsukishima said bluntly, but his voice lacked its usual, razor-sharp edge.
"I know," Hinata snapped back and frowned for a moment as if hurt by the words, but then he flashed a brilliant smile, and for a second, Tsukishima's breath got stuck in his throat. "But I'll be letting the team down if I don't get better. So one more please!"
Tsukishima wiped some of the sweat off his brow and cursed under his breath, then continued to serve. By now he was moving almost on automatic, his body responding to Hinata's call on reflex even as his brain fought to understand what was keeping him here.
Why couldn't he figure this out? WHY?
Something had changed after Tokyo. Ever since the training camp—and especially those evening games with certain Nekoma and Fukurōdani members, who in spite of being arrogant and annoying had actually given some worthwhile advice—Tsukishima's mind had been occupied by a myriad of questions. Most of them were about volleyball, what it truly meant to him, and if it should be part of his future or not.
A serve, a receive. Hinata's reflexes were gradually getting slower, the pointlessly overdrawn exercise finally taking its toll on his muscles.
"One more!" he called to Tsukishima anyway.
Tsukishima knew he lacked the kind of exuberant passion the other Karasuno players and Hinata in particular expressed towards the sport, but Tsukishima was slowly finding out that it didn't mean he didn't feel something. He just needed to figure out if it was enough.
But what bothered Tsukishima the most, was the small yet significant portion of the questions inside his head that concerned Hinata.
A serve, a receive. Hinata barely managed to touch the ball, and it hit the floor almost uninterrupted.
"One more!"
Why do you keep going? What is it that drives you? Tsukishima wanted to ask, but he wasn't sure if Hinata could even put it to words. More importantly, why do I care about any of it?
Tsukishima's serving arm hurt and his palm throbbed, but he couldn't stop. He needed answers, and this was the only way he could think of getting them. So despite his own tired muscles screaming at him, Tsukishima picked up another ball.
A serve, a receive, a nearly decent one this time.
At first Tsukishima had put it all down to just being annoyed by Hinata's presence. Hinata was all that Tsukishima wasn't, the polar opposite of him in behaviour, character, and raw talent—like the sun and the moon, Tsukishima had heard people refer to them. Had he left it at that, maybe he wouldn't be in this situation now. But Tsukishima's analytical nature had gotten the better of him. He had wanted to understand what made Hinata tick, what made him so different from Tsukishima.
"One more," Hinata called for another ball without turning to see where the previous had landed. He was almost too exhausted to stand, but all of him exuded unyielding resolve, and he still smiled like he couldn't be happier. Tsukishima wasn't sure if he wanted to wipe that smile off Hinata's face, or make sure it never disappeared, but both options revealed just how far beyond analytical his involvement with Hinata had gone.
There were so many sides to Hinata that were easy to understand due to his straightforward nature, and because of how frequently and noticeably he displayed them. Like how he always spoke his mind, sincerely but often also loudly, or how was as equally impressed by the talent he saw in others as by simple things that Tsukishima thought of as childish. How Hinata enjoyed every moment on the court, no matter how in pain he was, whether they were just practising or in a match, whether they were winning or losing.
Slowly, Tsukishima reached for another ball. There weren’t too many left before they’d have to collect them again, he thought idly. Annoying, aggravating, stupid Hinata. Why won’t you give up?
There were also other depths to Hinata that only time spent with him, willingly or not, had revealed. How he could get angry, but didn't really hate anyone. How he was always trying to solve any problem ahead of him, and how he absorbed what he saw and experienced, and adapted them to suit him—especially in regards to his height, abilities, and playing style. How he actually thought about things, even though he mostly seemed to be acting on instinct.
Through all his observation Tsukishima had learned that, in a strange way, Hinata shone. Tsukishima had no other word for it. He could feel it across the court, sense it like it was something tangible.
As if marked by his name Hinata really was like the sun, bright, hot, and sometimes blinding. His passion and energy were contagious, and people gathered to bask in that light, to feel that fire. It had already affected the other Karasuno players, whose own fervour to develop their skills had only been amplified by Hinata's insistent efforts to grow, not only as a volleyball player, but as a member of their team. Perhaps Tsukishima had just been scared to accept that whether he liked it or not, whether he understood the reason why or not, he too was drawn to that brightness.
Lost in his thoughts, Tsukishima messed up the next serve and it went way off to one side. And it was clearly going to go outside the lines. Hinata still ran after it, amazingly managing to meet the ball square on, but he couldn't guide it upwards like he should so it veered off and hit a wall.
Hinata grimaced with pain, shaking his arms briefly before getting ready to receive again, and Tsukishima shuddered, angry at himself for losing control like that, and at Hinata for just not knowing when to quit instead of getting hurt like that.
"One more!"
Tsukishima forced himself to focus more on his next serve, and probably out of pure spite hit it as far away from Hinata's current position as he could within the limits of the playing area.
Exhausted as he was, Hinata still ran toward it and dove hard on the floor to make contact. He missed the ball by an inch, clearly not happy that he did, but no doubt thinking he'd get the next one for sure. Give up already, Tsukishima wished silently, desperately. Maybe if he did, the mess in Tsukishima's head would disappear. But Hinata sprung up to his feet, exuding determination.
"You can't force yourself to improve!," Tsukishima yelled at him, fully aware he was only venting his own frustration by provoking Hinata with his bitter words. "One more ball, two more balls, a hundred more balls! Doesn't matter how many, you can't get better in a single night." Hinata just glared at him. Even that far off the intensity of his gaze seemed to burn, and Tsukishima wondered if he'd finally pushed the other too far.
"One. More." Hinata demanded firmly, and even his voice was wearing out and getting rough.
Tsukishima angrily grabbed another ball, leaving only one more left in the basket. He hit the serve hard and angry, flinching with how much it stung and glad for the distraction the pain offered. The last thing Tsukishima wanted was for his conflicted feelings to control his actions. His composure had held so far, but he could feel it slowly begin to crack and crumble.
The next serve smacked down hard against Hinata’s arms, and Tsukishima felt more than a little satisfied yet horrified at the same time by the loud sound it made. Hinata winced with pain again, but he didn't waver, lifting the ball neatly into the air for an easy follow-up. Either he was getting better, or Tsukishima's serves were getting sloppier due to his conflicted feelings. Hinata followed the arc of the ball with a surprised but happy look on his face before turning to look toward Tsukishima again.
"One more!" he shouted with glee and jumped high into the air. His grin was radiant, as if that one perfect success somehow wiped away all the pain and frustration of the dozens upon dozens of failures that had preceded it. Tsukishima was stunned.
His hand reached out almost on automatic, blindly finding the last ball while he kept his eyes locked on the shining sun, unable to tear his gaze away.
"This really is the last one this time," Tsukishima said, and tried to gather enough resolve to keep his word. He should have been able to resist, should have been able to leave, but Tsukishima finally realized the reason he had given in to Hinata's will time after time tonight.
Tsukishima threw the ball into the air, following it with his eyes while his thoughts rambled on.
He wanted to see more of Hinata, to watch him, observe every last detail of him, analyze every bit of information he could. He needed to, in order to explain why he felt this way, and why he also wanted to—
—to touch Hinata.
Tsukishima missed the ball completely, and almost lost his balance as his hand cut an arc through thin air. While he fought to remain upright, the ball fell on the floor, the sound of it loud in the sudden silence of the hall. It bounced a few times, then rolled quietly away and stopped. Tsukishima stood still and looked down at his hand, his mind blank. Instead of his palm stinging like it should after a serve, his fingers twitched and tingled weirdly.
"Hey, Tsukishima." Hinata's face suddenly appeared in Tsukishima's field of view, peeking at him from below at an odd angle. "You alright?" he asked, looking a little worried, his face close enough to touch and... Tsukishima leaned back, but couldn't stop his hand on time. It reached out and hesitantly touched the soft skin of Hinata's cheek.
Ah, so this is how it feels.
As if bound by a spell, Tsukishima's fingers slid slowly over Hinata's warm skin, heated by the exercise and slick with a shimmering sheen of sweat that was beading at his temples. They reached the line of Hinata' jaw, fell below his chin it to lift it slightly upward.
"Tsu.. Tsukishima?" Hinata breathed out the name, softly, uncertainly, but there was no fear in it and he didn't back away. Not even when Tsukishima slowly leaned down over him, and gently kissed the lips that had called for him.
It wasn't Tsukishima’s first kiss—just because he had an overly analytical mind didn't mean he didn't possess a healthy physical curiosity about such things. Tsukishima had once experimentally asked Yamaguchi to try it out with him, and while it had been interesting, both had agreed it had been mostly weird. Then there had been all the girls that Tsukishima had briefly dated. He got confessed to often enough, and dumped just as often once they realized his cool exterior didn't hide the kind of tender heart they had imagined in their dreams. Their lips had been soft and willing, but had only satisfied Tsukishima's curiosity, nothing more.
But now, simply because Tsukishima had his lips softly pressed against Hinata's, his insides wound into nervously excited knots and his heart was beating like it wanted to burst out of his chest and—
It gradually dawned on Tsukishima what exactly he was doing. He was kissing Hinata. Kissing. Hinata. Who hadn't moved and inch, probably too startled to push him off. It must have been Hinata’s first time.
Snapping out of his daze, Tsukishima quickly drew back and turned his face away, hiding his mouth with his hand. He couldn't believe what he'd done, it almost didn't seem real to him. For a paralyzing few seconds he just waited for Hinata's reaction, expecting anything between fiery anger and horrified revulsion. When nothing happened, Tsukishima risked a look his way again.
He’d never seen Hinata with such an expression before. Hinata was gazing up at him, eyes wide and bewildered and almost glowing. A red that had nothing to do with their earlier activities was colouring his cheeks, and the mouth Tsukishima had just kissed remained slightly open as Hinata caught his breath in shallow gasps. He must have been holding it out of shock. But he didn't look taken aback, or horrified or angry, more like—
"One more," Hinata said quietly but with unmistakable intent, and all of him shone with something Tsukishima had never seen before. It was bright, inviting, and he knew there was a change he might get burned by it, but Tsukishima couldn't resist it.
He was finally starting to see a glimpse of what the others, and what his brother, must feel towards the things that mattered to them. A club is not just a club, a kiss is not just a kiss. If you didn't give your all, if you never got hurt, you would never learn just how much something could mean to you. Tsukishima wanted more, of this, of everything this could lead to, of Hinata. Not just a glimpse, all of it. Tsukishima wanted to hold this sun in his arms, to burn rather then let go of it.
Tsukishima captured Hinata's face between his hands and kissed him again, and this time Hinata tilted his head back more, grabbed Tsukishima's shirt to pull him closer, and opened his mouth for him. It was sweet, inexperienced, and slightly awkward, but the same fire that Hinata put into everything he did was there, and Tsukishima could feel it light him up too. Heat flowed in through his fingers, melted in his mouth, and ran through his spine all the way down to parts that were by nature harder to control than others, and it all felt way too good.
Tsukishima could have kept kissing Hinata for longer, but a more coherent part of his brain reminded him that should Sugawara walk in on them in their current state, the consequences would be unbelievably embarrassing. So he let go.
For a quiet few moments both of them just stood there, breathing, staring at each other. Hinata still clung to Tsukishima’s shirt, and Tsukishima slid his fingers deeper into Hinata’s hair. He knew it would be impossible for Hinata to keep this a secret, simply because his face would betray him even if he tried. He could see it all on Hinata’s too damn honest and easy to read face—joy, excitement, eagerness, impatience, hunger—and it was just as clear that Hinata wasn’t thinking of volleyball, not by a long shot.
In addition to all the other things he had learned about himself tonight, Tsukishima discovered there were certain things that he never wanted to share with anyone else.
“Don’t show that face,” Tsukishima said, leaning down to speak the words right into Hinata’s ear, “to anyone but me.” Tsukishima felt a shudder run through Hinata, but then he nodded silently. Tsukishima drew back, his smile a slanted but satisfied smirk. He was going to make damn sure that no-one else got to see this sight. If he was the moon, then he’d eclipse the sun so no-one but Tsukishima could see the way Hinata shone right now.
Suddenly Hinata pulled Tsukishima closer.
“One more,” he whispered, softly, hotly, breath against Tsukishima’s lips, and the moon had no chance but to fall into the sun. One kiss wouldn’t be enough, for either of them.
At least Sugawara was polite enough to bang on the door a couple of times before actually entering. His mischievous smile told Tsukishima just how much he had seen, but Sugawara mentioned nothing of it as he helped them get things cleaned up. He was chatting away with Hinata about all things volleyball and Hinata seemed fine, complaining as always that he wanted to keep practising for longer. But every time Hinata glanced at Tsukishima he smiled so stupidly happily that no-one would have the slightest doubt as to why. Worst of all, Tsukishima was sure that despite his best efforts to keep calm, his face showed traces of the same happiness too.
Tsukishima sighed deeply, resigning to his fate. His life would be so much more complicated from now on, but somehow, Tsukishima didn’t really mind. For now, he had his answer, and he had Hinata. The rest he could sort out later.
~~~ The End ~~~