AN: First step into the Haikyuu! fandom for writing. I caught up with the manga this morning, but this idea has been festering a while. Set… early-ish in the series when they're still using the freak quick almost exclusively. Hope this drabble satisfies!
Disclaim ownership of the series.
Brown eyes disappear with the spike. Even closed, Kageyama knows that if the boy opened his eyes, he'd see unyielding, unwavering trust.
Kageyama is panting hard, missing the sight of the ball slipping past Nishinoya and Tanaka, but he hears the satisfying BAM! against the gym floor. Faintly, he hears the others congratulate Hinata on yet another killer quick. All he hears is his own hard breathing and underneath it, his heartbeat. All he sees is Hinata, feet back on the ground, hand on knees, eyes sparkling like the sun.
Hinata sees him. Shoots an easy grin that goes straight through the stiff, standoffish armor Kageyama puts up and goes straight to his heart and somewhere past his stomach. It burns hot and hard, slightly uncomfortable. No, very uncomfortable.
"Bathroom," he barely says as he escapes the sun's rays.
He doesn't go to the bathroom.
The clubroom is empty at this hour, in the dead middle of practice, but it isn't enough. He tucks into a back closet, careful to make sure he wouldn't lock himself in. Just as quickly, his shorts fall to the ground, his hand wrapped tightly around himself, and he sinks to the ground, head filled with fantasy.
As irritating and idiotic as Shouyou Hinata could be, he had an air of beauty and grace that had caught Kageyama's attention in middle school. It feels like ages ago, and in some ways, Hinata hasn't changed at all. Except now, even if he hates Kageyama—and he's almost certain that the orange-haired boy still hated him—he trusts him to put the ball in place.
Fuck.
Hinata lay out under him, legs spread wide, his body exposed to the slightly cool air. He wasn't sure where they were, but that doesn't matter. All that matters is the boy underneath him, the sweat-slicked skin, the dissonant rhythms of their heartbeats, their breathing, the sweet sounds escaping Hinata's lips, the contact of their skin as he thrusts into the pliant boy.
Kageyama's hand is hot against his own skin, blood pumping hard and fast from practice. It isn't slowing down just yet.
Kageyama runs his hands through the orange hair as his hips roll again. Hinata is a thing of beauty, an angel trapped in the sweet, sweet sin of love. His head is thrown back slightly, exposing his neck for Kageyama to mark as he pleases. His hands are clutching the sheets as he tries to match Kageyama's rhythmm. However, it wasn't quite what he wanted. The sun was extinguished, even in the darkness.
Fantasy, he knows, and at such an inconvenient time. But it is a familiar dream, a dream brought on by sunlight and gym floors and the chill that runs through him at the sight of a crow diving in for the kill.
"Shouyou," he breathes out, barely a whisper, "do you trust me?"
"Yes," the boy breathes out, "of course."
"Then open your eyes." The rhythm stops momentarily.
"But—"
"This isn't the volleyball court. Trust me with more than your body. Give me all of it."
And it's like the sun opens up before him.
He knows Hinata's eyes, but not like this, not intimate and sex-clouded, so his imagination will have to suffice. He knows that the real thing would definitely be better, his skin hotter, his eyes brighter, his motions more frantic and needy.
Looking at Hinata is like looking at the sun, his eyes burning like the hottest part. It's overwhelming in the best way possible. Kageyama would burn up under the real sun, so he settles for a picture and a hot lamp. A poor replacement, but it'll do. For now.
Kageyama picks up the rhythm, slamming hard and fast, Hinata's whimpers slightly delayed but matching the rhythm perfectly. He puts his hands on Kageyama's shoulder, steadying himself in a way that guarantees continuous eye contact. Hinata has always been easy to read, and this time is no different. He can see the sparks of pleasure from the boy's eyes. Kageyama feels himself getting closer to the edge, and, defying what he thought was possible, he goes faster.
"Tobio!" Hinata cries out, his hot come splashing all over Kageyama. The sweet call of his tenor strikes a chord deep inside, and it's over.
And just like that, it's over.
He curses himself. How could he forget even tissue paper. With a slight sense of disgust, he wipes himself off with his hand and uses the other to pull up his boxers and shorts. As he leaves the club room, he shakes off his hand, erasing any and all evidence as he runs his hand through the grass. Before reentering the gym, he washes his hands properly and cleans off the remaining come in one of the stalls.
And he's back in the gym, under the presence of the hot lights and the sun. "What took you so long, Kageyama?" Hinata shouts impetuously from the other side of the court. "Shit a brick or something?" Hinata misses the receive, and the rebound ricochets into Kageyama's hands. He throws it up and spikes it cleanly into Hinata's side, and the boy crumples to the ground.
"Got stopped. And that's disgusting." He basks in the sun again, and his, as standoffish as usual, the other unaware of the fantasy of a boy who played with fire without getting burned. "Set it up."
And the suns in Hinata's eyes disappear as he thrusts his trust square into Kageyama's hands.
It'll do.
For now.
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