The first time Sawamura Daichi kissed Azumane Asahi, it was a dare.

Of course, it was. Because some people (some exhausted, delirious, undeniably over-caffeinated, potentially intoxicated ("Chikara, you bastard, where did you get VODKA?!" "Dad had it under the stairs from one of his business trips and my knees hurt right now.") volleyball people) think it is a good idea to play "I Never" at 2am during a team sleepover.

More on that later. The important thing about the first kiss is this. When "I'm totally NOT DRUNK, Hinata, you dandelion" Daichi kissed "floor is so soft" Asahi in front of his entire team, to raucous shrieks and hoots of encouragement, he expected Asahi to go red to the tips of his ears and attempt to hide under the furniture.

He got the first part right. Asahi did go red. But as Daichi pulled away, slumped back to his spot on the floor and began collecting cellphones (because pictures had been taken and video recorded and "HELL NO, YOU DUMBASSES"), he caught the look on Asahi's face. Asahi was sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at his clasped hands, or the bottom of his foot, and indeed red to the tips of his ears. But he looked thoughtful, not embarrassed.

Daichi realized the difference in the split second before Asahi felt him looking and met his eyes. Still, no embarassment. The look was warm and contemplative, and as the gaze held, a slow smile slid across Asahi's face like a drop of water condensation down a glass on a hot day.

Oh. Good idea. Daichi got up to get a glass of cold water.

The second time was…unexpected.

That day's practice had gone, in the simplest description, badly. Even Nishinoya, dependable hurricane that he was, missed shots he could have received in his sleep. Tanaka was silent, Hinata was slow, Kageyama crashed into the net twice. And everyone, EVERYONE, stole glances at the door like Old West bank bobbers (that is, frequently and without subtlety).

Tsukishima was not there.

They knew where he was. He had gotten a phone call from his mother while everyone was changing in the club room. They had watched as his hands stopped midway through pulling his shirt over his head, watched his face go from porcelain to corpse, watched his eyes widen, fill with tears, drain down his cheeks and the side of his nose.

Suga took the phone. "Ma'am, I'm one of Tsukishima's club mates. He is not responding to us. How may I help?"

Tsukishima was heading for the door in a daze, but Sugawara gripped his wrist, stopping him from leaving. "Yes, ma'am. We are on our way. No, it's no trouble. I'll bring him. Take care of yourself."

The pair of them had gone out the door at a dead sprint.

Half an hour later, a call from Suga settled their shattered nerves. Tsukishima's brother, Akiteru had been hit by another car at an intersection and been flipped over the guardrail. He was in bad shape (broken leg, cracked ribs, two broken fingers on his left hand, concussion, assorted cuts and bruises), but resting at the local hospital. Nothing life threatening, but tell that to the news cameras.

Either way, practice was shot.

As the first- and second-years cleaned up, Daichi took himself off around the corner of the gym and stuck his head under the water faucet. He felt…scraped, like someone not kindly disposed to him had taken fine sand and scoured out his heart. Tsukishima may be sullen, stubborn and prideful, but he was the foundation of the first-years better than Daichi could have hoped. He now saw some of what the team must have gone through when he got knocked out by Tanaka's shoulder. Something was missing, something crucial, something critical, something necessary for life. It rang like a bad chord in a cathedral…

Asahi found him there, kneeling as if in church with his head under the faucet and his elbows on the basin rim. He sat in the packed dirt in front of the basin and leaned one shoulder against into Daichi's side until his head slid out from under the water. Air and sound were effective enough to bring Daichi out of his semi-drowned worry-coma, so he slumped back down to sit next to Asahi and leaned into him. Daichi was not a small person, but Asahi kept himself stable and they sat there, quietly, until Daichi's hands and breath stopped shaking.

"It's not easy, is it?" Asahi's voice was slightly choked and wobbly, but sounded better than Daichi felt.

"What is?"

"Being at the middle of things. I know I don't like it, but you seem to do ok most of the time."

Daichi's laugh was a harsh, half-swallowed thing that sounded like a crow being strangled. Oh hey, maybe that was what was wrong with him. "Normally, I would agree with you. But you get so invested in everyone else, trying to balance them out, controlling the wild ones, encouraging the quiet ones, that when one of the big weights goes away, the scales go slamming into the ground and it's hard to hold them up evenly."

"Wow, long metaphor. You are feeling bad."

"Shut up, you wimp."

"I'm trying to be nice, Daichi-san. Be a little nicer to me?" Asahi's face had pulled into his usual expression of resigned exasperation and suddenly Daichi felt better. One thing was happening as usual. One brick in the foundation. He could work with one brick. Everything was going to be ok…

"But, hey, Daichi-san, you know…" Asahi had a faintly familiar look on his face, but Daichi couldn't place it (for he had NOT BEEN DRUNK). "Sometimes, it might be a good idea to put the scale pans down for a bit and stretch."

Daichi got up and stretched his arms over his head. Ahh, that really did feel good. "How can I put the team down? If I don't worry, what good as a captain am I?" Asahi was still sitting at his feet and looking up at him with that odd expression on his face. "What?"

Time must have slipped. The day was weird enough already. He probably should have expected it. Shaken Tsukishima, quiet Tanaka, slow Hinata, clumsy Kageyama. Even he had lost his composure. But now, in that small slipping of time, Asahi had crowded him back against the wall of the gym. Ferocious Asahi, this was new.

"Asahi?" Daichi could feel eyelashes flickering against the skin of his neck. Seriously, by what right do eyelashes that long belong on a man?

"Yeah?" The thumb on the hand at the back of his neck was pressing repeatedly into the sore point that had developed from keeping his head under the water for so long. Unfair.

"What are you up to?" He could feel every heart beat reverberating in that solid chest where they were pressed together, steady and strong. Steady?

Asahi's hand passed through his hair and slid down over his eyes. He shut them. Then warm lips descended on his and Daichi's mind whited out. It had been fuzzy before, he realized. He should have reacted more like himself when Asahi pressed him up against the wall, but the Day of Weirdness was apparently in full swing and affecting everything.

The white out faded. Asahi was kissing him. Why was Asahi kissing him? Wasn't there supposed to be more urgency with this thought? The concrete wall was cold across his back, but the arm around his waist and hand on his hip practically burned. Why was Asahi kissing him? The hand that had covered his eyes had returned to the back of his head, stopping impact with the wall. Why was Asahi kissing him? He kept his eyes closed and felt warm breath fanning over his cheek. Why was Asahi kissing him? He smelled plastic and sweat, some neutral deodorant that just smelled like "clean", floor wax. Why was Asahi kissing HIM? Oh, hey. That seemed urgent. Daichi's hands snapped to Asahi's shoulders.

Asahi didn't even stop. The kisses were turning hungry, nipping teeth and teasing tongue and muscles in back (how did his hands end up on Asahi's back, clenching like they were trying to pull his muscles off his bones?) and arms and stomach flexing with tension.

A sneaker squeaked on the other side of the wall. Asahi drew away softly, but did not let go. Good thing. Daichi doubted his knees were active participants in the battle for bipedal motion. The hand at the back of his head trailed from its residence (boo) down his neck, down his chest (previous booing recanted) and joined its partner at Daichi's waist (active mental cheering). Asahi still hadn't said anything.

"Why were you kissing me?" Damn. Too monotone.

Asahi had that look on his face again, the thinking face. "You looked like someone needed to take the scales apart, just to give the parts a break. Especially the main support."

Daichi's hands were now disobeying him again and tracing odd little patterns on Asahi's collarbone. "I think…" Daichi swallowed hard, "I think that is a good idea."

Asahi's smile was that water-drop smile again. "Pull yourself together, Captain. Then, go pull everyone else together and let's go home. You aren't the only one that needs a break. And it is a Friday."

Daichi had figured out what that thoughtful look meant. And that smile. He tried one on himself. Asahi's eyes went a little wide. "I like Fridays."