Work Text:
Hinata is loud. He always has been, from the second Kageyama met him, mouthy and indignant and forceful. It's the reason Kageyama hadn't been able to stop thinking about him for weeks—months, maybe—after they'd first met. He'd even been loud when he cried, voice indignant and accusing, demanding Kageyama take notice of him. And he does, for a while, but noises fade, and eventually, Hinata fades into the background of Kageyama's life...
And then there he is again, loud and pointing and a small ball of anger, and Kageyama doesn't know what the hell he's in for. This is Kageyama's life for months after they first meet, the noise of Hinata's voice traveling across the gym, echo-y and—well, not really unpleasant. Hinata's excitement and enthusiasm is grudgingly infectious, which is why he sometimes coaxes an excited yell out of Kageyama when they get their quick just right. Not that Kageyama will ever admit it. Not even if Hinata offers him half a meat bun that he technically still owes Kageyama after eating his from the week before.
Kageyama never knows what he's in for with Hinata. One minute, he's falling asleep on his homework, leaving an attractive drool stain, and the next he's sitting upright, gripping Kageyama's arm with small, hot fingers that are way stronger than they have any right being. It's probably a good thing his hands are too small to grip the ball one-handed, or he might pop it with the way he gets so intense about things. Some days it's an essay he forgot was due, some days it's Kageyama accidentally-on-purpose chewing on his eraser, some days it's the snacks his mom has brought up for their study session.
It never really gets any less loud; Kageyama just somehow acclimates to it. He's used to Hinata's chatter on the way home, the way his whispers can be heard across the room like some kind of parody of someone trying to be quiet, and even though Kageyama tells him to shut up and be quiet for once, dumbass, he finds that he increasingly doesn't mind. The first time Hinata is out sick, it's disturbingly quiet; Kageyama finds himself grumbling more than usual, people giving him strange looks on his way to and from class, and he doesn't even eat his entire lunch because Hinata's not there to nag him to share.
It's weird. Kageyama's never liked particularly loud and boistrous people, but there's just something about the way Hinata goes about it that isn't obnoxious; it's just pleasant, excited, friendly. It's after the week Hinata's sick that he finally realizes it; he likes Hinata being loud. It's not the same when he isn't. Kageyama visits his house, and even with a sore throat, Hinata's voice is chipper and bubbly and he yell-coughs more than is probably healthy, and when Kageyama snaps at him to shut up, it's for his own good.
Hinata teases him about being worried, but he's not. He just can't stand the silence at school, and needs—not needs—Hinata to get better again. Hinata beams when Kageyama tells him that, a cheeky grin that's visible even through the medical mask his mother's made him wear as a condition on letting Kageyama in, claiming she doesn't need her son being patient zero in some terrible school outbreak.
Kageyama's not worried; he's always been pretty healthy. Plus, Hinata's promised to visit him if he does get sick. Not that Kageyama would look forward to that.
Anyway, the point is: Hinata is loud. It's something Kageyama gets used to, comes to expect, sort of maybe looks forward to every day. He doesn't even think Hinata's loud on purpose; it's just like he has so much energy that it comes bursting out of his throat in the form of words. Not a bad loud. An...endearing loud, maybe. Kageyama hates that he assigns that word to it, but there it is. Hinata's loudness is endearing. And as months go on, Kageyama finds a lot of new situations where Hinata's noise bubbles over.
Laughing, when Kageyama does something he finds particularly funny—one time, he'd squeezed his milk box too hard. Another time, he'd woken up with a piece of paper stuck to his cheek. Hinata's laughter is noisy in a good way, infectious, and once or twice Kageyama's maybe snort-laughed along with him during a movie or when he's unfairly finding Hinata's ticklish spots, of which he has a lot. The backs of his knees, his sides, his neck. The latter is a little too close for comfort, sparks something else that isn't quite laughter—maybe a nervous giggle when they pull back, faces flushed for reasons that aren't spoken. But it always goes back to normal, no matter what, Hinata noisily declaring that Kageyama's a jerk and has to treat him to ice cream later, which Kageyama protests (but does anyway).
He's particularly loud when they fight. And they fight a lot, but when they really, actually fight, not just a petty squabble that ends with one of them getting distracted by something else. The first time, Kageyama's shocked at Hinata's voice, the way the noise is directed in anger, the way he throws himself bodily at Kageyama with his full force—and it's a force to be reckoned with, small but heavy. They're both loud, something Kageyama regrets immediately after he's cooled off, because he can still hear the hurt of Hinata's voice echoing in the gym. Kageyama's unsettled for weeks after, when the loudness is replaced by silence, and he's once again reminded that there's a space that's been carved out by Hinata's enthusiastic chatter.
Hinata's confession is loud, too. There's a boiling silence before it, but this one is different from the silence when he's angry, or when he's sad. Even then, Hinata's usually noisy—loud, hiccuping sobs when they lose that one time. This one is almost loud in and of itself; a deafening silence, one that puts Kageyama's entire body on edge, and he finally snaps and demands that Hinata just spit out whatever's bothering him, because the silence is driving him crazy. Hinata blinks, and then his face goes red, and of course they have to argue about something—Hinata says he has a right to be quiet, he's not always loud, Kageyama says that yes, he totally is, and then some more bickering that Kageyama doesn't remember because it's all blotted out with 'I like you, dumbass!' and Hinata's face going from peach flush to scarlet, trying to cover up that loud confession with even louder excuses. It must be the look on Kageyama's face, which Hinata later describes (when his hand is warm in Kageyama's) as 'terrifying, really really awful', and of course they have to yell about that, too.
He's even loud when they kiss, the way he breathes warm and harsh into Kageyama's mouth, against his lips, the way he makes small noises (loud noises, annoyed, when Kageyama goes to pull away). He's always murmuring things—Kageyama's name, mostly—when they touch, when Kageyama' pushes fingers through his hair, brushes it out of his face. The wet sound of his mouth and his tongue and the way he grazes his teeth over Kageyama's lips. And he's loud when he falls asleep next to Kageyama, pressed up against his side, saying things in his sleep that maybe, secretly, make Kageyama smile small, private smiles. Hinata really can't help it, even when he isn't aware. It's long ago stopped being annoying.
“You're loud, too,” Hinata tells Kageyama one night, when they're side-by-side on their stomachs, sprawled on his bed and flipping through a sports magazine. It's one they've both seen before, which is the only reason they're not arguing about who is turning the page too fast and who is reading too slow. These are arguments that never really have fire behind them; it's just them, who they are.
“I'm not loud.” Kageyama shoots a sideways glare at Hinata, notes how they're a lot closer than they used to be when they did this, Hinata's side pressed up against his, warm and soft. “You always start it.”
And they argue about that, too, Hinata rolling him over and pinning him down.
The beat of his heart is loud, then, in the quiet room, because even when Hinata's still he isn't quiet. Kageyama can hear it—thump, thump—and his mouth feels dry.
This is when Kageyama finds out that Hinata is also loud during...certain other activities.
It might be fine—it's kind of hot, actually—if his mom weren't in the other room, if his sister weren't asleep down the hall. Kageyama hushes him, puts a palm squarely over his mouth until Hinata, breath heated, licks his hand and Kageyama pulls it away with a face. He can tell Hinata's trying to be quiet, he really is; Hinata says as much, although it comes out as a whine as he presses his hips up against Kageyama's knee where it's planted squarely on the mattress between his legs. Kageyama's come to know him well enough that he can't help it, but when he suggests maybe they stop—that's when Hinata really gets loud, protesting that it's not fair, that he's already like this, that Kageyama is killing him after and he's throwing an arm over his eyes overdramatically, to which Kageyama really just has to shove his knee up and turn the hushed whining into a surprised moan.
They somehow manage to not get found out, even though Hinata's harsh breathing sounds like shouting in the quiet room where Kageyama's doing his best to hold back his own noises as they press together through fabric, Hinata's small (too strong) hands clinging onto his shoulders hard enough to leave bruises the team asks about the next day. Hinata sputters and Kageyama clams up, tries to pretend his face isn't getting red because those are very obviously marks from smallish fingertips, five on each side.
Kageyama makes sure that the first time they really, for real do it, they're alone, and it's a good thing because Hinata is...well, it's already been established that he's loud, but he's Loud. He throws his head back and the noise he makes is probably the dirtiest thing Kageyama's ever heard—not that he's heard many dirty things, but he has imagined—and this time, Kageyama doesn't tell him to be quiet. He doesn't put his hand over Hinata's mouth, or worry that someone will hear them, and...well, he likes it. A lot. Kageyama likes tha the's the only one who can here this side of Hinata, the noises he makes that are just for Kageyama only, and this time, he answers back, noises pressed against Hinata's neck and his mouth. In fact, Kageyama tries to coax out more, as clumsy as they both are. It seems to work because by the time they finish, Hinata's out of breath and his voice is a little hoarse, and god, he really is loud. Kageyama kisses his throat, and his neck, and his mouth, and tells him this is why they had to wait months until one of their houses was conveniently empty, and Hinata grins and says it was worth it, wasn't it?
And yeah, Kageyama grudgingly admits, it was. Everything was worth it. And Hinata laughs, bright and clear, the same way he always does.
Hinata's loud, so it's only fair that sometimes, Kageyama's loud in return. Like when he calls to Hinata on the court, tells him to concentrate, to trust him. Like when he yells at Hinata to use an umbrella because he'll catch a cold, and Hinata sulks at him but lets Kageyama hold the umbrella over both of them anyway because his arms are too short to properly cover Kageyama's height. Like when Kageyama blurts out 'I love you' one day when they're eating sandwiches, and Hinata's swinging his legs under the table, and he laughs at something Kageyama does (he can't even remember) and it is just loud and good and so absolutely Hinata that it's hard for Kageyama to keep in, so he doesn't. He wonders if this is what it must be like for Hinata, why he's so loud all the time.
“I can't keep it bottled in all the time, you know?” Hinata tells him once, when Kageyama's toweling his hair off after a bath. “It's like, it builds up, and you just get so full that you feel like you're gonna explode, you know?”
Kageyama thinks he knows. He's sort of quiet, in a grumbly, cranky way, but—
“I love you,” he says, loud and sudden and then his face is a mask of shock, because he really hadn't been intending to say that and he's stupid, really, they're in high school and they're boys and he's Kageyama—
This time, Hinata is very, very quiet.
It's so unsettling that Kageyama gets up to leave; this is worse than the time when Hinata cried against his shoulder, silent for once, the night after they lost that match. This is worse than when Hinata lost his voice and had to write things out on a pad of paper, and Kageyama found himself jiggling his leg with impatience, tapping his pencil on the desk just to hear something, and it still hadn't been loud enough. This is worse than the silence after they fought, because at least they could make up, and this is just terrible—
“Did you hear me?” Hinata's voice breaks through the panicked noises running through Kageyama's head, and he blinks, murmurs out an intelligent 'uh?' and Hinata curls his hands together on the table, fingers too tight against his skin. It's the first time Kageyama doesn't think he's heard Hinata. Hinata, who is always loud, who always has something to say, who—
He tells Kageyama he loves him too, and his voice is quiet, but there's still something—something about it that cancels out all the other noise and makes everything else seem silent in comparison. It's like a roaring in Kageyama's ears, and he understands what Hinata meant when he said sometimes things get so much that they just threaten to spill out, the way the words 'dumbass' and 'don't scare me like that' spill out of Kageyama's, too loud, but not in a bad way, and he's tugging at Hinata's hair and Hinata is yelling, also not in a bad way.
Kageyama admits to himself, that night, when Hinata's blowing hot and gross into his ear trying to get him to admit that he laughs and he has a soul and he 'looooooves' Kageyama, in a voice that's loud and sort of sweet-mocking, that maybe he's sort of loud, too.