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“Hey Kageyama,” Hinata says, waving a hand in Kageyama’s face, “you know the volleyball club’s charity ball?”
“Ugh,” Kageyama replies—which is, honestly, pretty much what Hinata had expected.
It’s the day after their last final for the year—some sort of basic mathematics course, which would be easy except for the fact that numbers were involved. And did Hinata mention the letters too? Because there were letters and numbers, all jumbled up together in some horrible melting pot of failure, and even though Kenma had patiently answered all his questions and Dadchi—uh, Daichi—had come over a few times to tutor them both, he’s pretty sure he failed.
Hinata’s pretty sure Kageyama failed too, because he’d seen the way Kageyama had been chewing his pencil for half the exam, all dumb and confused and with his brow scrunched up in that cute way he had whenever he couldn’t understand what was going on, and—
Okay, yeah, you’re gay for Kageyama, Hinata mentally berates himself, now can we get back on task?
Right, back on task. Which meant—charity ball. Attendance.
Dates.
“Ugh,” Hinata agrees emphatically, and sprawls all over Kageyama.
A few minutes of flailing, squawking and pointy elbows later, Hinata triumphantly plops his head down on Kageyama’s heaving chest and pants as casually as he can, “I don’t have anyone to go with again.”
“Same,” Kageyama gasps, and Hinata’s heart skips a beat again.
Because parties and other social events inevitably went like this—neither of them would get a date, both of them would remember the very first party they went to, and they’d end up going together. They’d scoffed at the idea of getting a date at first, naively believing that nobody would bother them in favour of stuffing their faces in the way they usually did—
But then they’d gotten there, and there were hordes of girls. Hordes of single girls, who were giggly and wanted to take them home for a good time—and sure, girls were cute and smiled a lot and were fun to chat with, but drunk girls with gropy hands were just. Eugh.
Nothing was a deterrent for drunk girls with gropy hands like having a boyfriend, though—an accidental discovery on their second gathering, when someone had asked who Hinata had come with and he’d pointed to Kageyama. He hadn’t realized they meant it in a romantic sense until he’d passed by a group of girls and heard I bet Kageyama-kun spoils Hinata-chan rotten and Hinata-chan’s so lucky to have Kageyama-kun as his boyfriend, but after the initial shock…
If it meant people stayed away and he could have uninterrupted eating contests with Kageyama? And if it meant they could leave when they’d stuffed themselves silly and nobody cared beyond a few exaggerated winks?
There were really worse things in the world—like, say, actually developing feelings for the guy you were supposedly boyfriends with. But that was whatever, and Kageyama was never going to find out about Hinata’s feelings, so.
“Sooooo…” Hinata crosses his arms on Kageyama’s chest and turns to look at him with what he hopes is a completely casual look. “We’re gonna go together again?” he asks with a little smile.
Kageyama grunts and smooshes Hinata’s cheeks between his hands—but even as Hinata yells and tries to stick his fingers up Kageyama’s nose, he can’t quite hide his relieved smile.
They might not be dating—they might not ever date, considering how dumb Kageyama is and how little he cares about anything outside of volleyball and meat buns and milk—but if he’s with Hinata, he’s not with anyone else. If he’s with Hinata, no matter if they’re studying or practicing or chilling out… maybe, someday, Hinata will get his chance. Maybe he’ll work up the courage to confess, so Kageyama doesn’t elope with a volleyball and leave Hinata in the lurch.
But until that day came…
“Shtop squishing mah cheeks, idiot!”
“Then don’t shove your gross fingers near my nose—dumbass, you’re gonna poke my eyes out!”
“You deserve it for being a big dumb dumbass yourself!”
“Stay still so I can give you a noogie for being a small dumb dumbass, dumbass!”
Yeah, this is fine, Hinata thinks to himself, and squawks when Kageyama topples them both off the bed and proceeds to grind his face into the floor.
“Back up, Chibi-chan—say that again?”
“What?” Hinata retorts, scrunching his brows at Kuroo’s delighted expression. “You know he would,” he whinges, when Kuroo’s smirk only widens on his face, “Kageyama only ever has eyes for volleyball! He’ll probably have a wedding with, like, his very first volleyball and their reception will have a—a milk fountain, and an entire pyramid of meat buns, and—”
“Kuro, no,” Kenma sighs, but Kuroo’s already clutching onto Bokuto and cackling at the top of his lungs. “Kuro, please.”
Usually, Kenma’s deadpan attempts at reining in his boyfriend work—but not this time, because there’s already tears streaming down Kuroo’s face. Hinata doesn’t find any of it funny though, not when he could get invited to a hypothetical wedding that he’ll hate, even though it’s meant to have all his favourite things in one spot, and—
“I’m going to grow old and die by myself,” Hinata moans, slumping against Kenma and burying his face into his best friend’s shoulder. “I’m going to trip over a volleyball and crack my head open when I hear Kageyama’s had kids with his volleyball, and then he’ll come to my funeral and cry, like an idiot!”
“Bro, are you hearing this?” Kuroo wheezes, tears of mirth still trickling down his face. “Chibi-chan is—Kageyama, I can’t—”
“Oh my god, my poor little disciple. Bro, stop bullying him already—he needs all our support, man!”
It’s hard to feel any sincerity from his words when Bokuto’s wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, though, and Hinata almost pouts when Bokuto wheezes, “Kuroo, please—you gotta stop, I’m gonna pass out if I keep laughing!”
“Then pass out,” Kenma replies indifferently, and unintentionally sends them off into another laughing fit. Hinata glances pleadingly at him, but—he’s still gaming away, tongue peeking out ever so slightly between his lips, and he’s forced to give it all up as a bad deal.
Kageyama’s gone home for the weekend, both to visit his parents and for some other reason Hinata’s not entirely aware of, and Hinata had found himself in Kuroo’s and Kenma’s room before he could think too much on it. He wasn’t lonely or anything like that—he had loads of friends that weren’t his idiot roommate and crush—but being around them was… fun. Nice, even, except for the lack of emotional support every time he found himself unintentionally whinging over Kageyama.
But then, what else can he expect from his friends? Hinata loves them with all his heart, he really does, and they’re super helpful whenever he needs homework help—but Kuroo and Kenma had been together since, like, forever. Bokuto’s happy as he is, from what Hinata’s seen, so when it comes to offering advice on unrequited love and stupid, dumb boys who just won’t take the hint…
“How long have you been pining over him?” Kenma asks almost disinterestedly, glancing momentarily up from his game. “Just tell him you like him already.”
“Like you did for Kuroo-san in your final year of high school?” Hinata asks waspishly, cheeks puffing out and face beginning to turn pink. “Oh wait, Kenma, that was—”
“Hey, don’t bully Kenma,” Kuroo interjects, pulling Kenma over to his side and ruffling his hair with his usual lazy grin. It’s a bad move on his part, one that disrupts Kenma’s concentration and almost makes him drop his console, but Kuroo ignores his boyfriend’s displeased hiss to add, “Besides, we’re kinda a special case, Chibi-chan.”
“And you don’t think Hinata and Kageyama aren’t?” Bokuto asks, cocking his head to one side. “I mean, they’ve got their on-court combos… they finish each other’s sentences…”
“But Bakageyama’s, like, a robot! A volleyball-obsessed robot, at that!” Hinata wails. “At least you guys hang out and talk about other things, right?
“He’s all like, come and practice your spikes or drink more milk, moron, or you’ll stay a shrimp forever.” Kuroo and Bokuto snicker at his Kageyama imitation, but Hinata only sighs and flops onto his back before muttering, “I just wish he’d look at me like he looks at volleyball or meat buns or even milk, y’know?”
“You have worryingly low standards if your opponents are sports and food,” Kenma points out.
Which is true, and incredibly depressing—but it’s not like Kageyama’s shown much interest in anything else, so what else can Hinata say?
“How do I get him to like me?” Hinata asks despairingly, arms crossed over his face and voice ever so slightly unsteady, and he hears a sigh before there’s a small hand patting his thigh.
“Have you seen Kageyama with anyone else?” Kenma asks.
“Like, hanging out for lunch, or…?”
“Dating, Chibi-chan,” Kuroo sighs. “Has he cozied up to any girls, stared off into the distance and giggled about something for no apparent reason—”
“You know, I can’t really see Kageyama as the giggly type,” Bokuto muses, startling a snort from Hinata.
“—Anyhow, has he?” Kuroo asks, and there’s a strangely intense look in his eyes when Hinata pulls his arm back.
Why Kuroo looks so intense is honestly beyond Hinata… but he does his best anyway, scrunching his brow with a little pout and swinging his feet as he thinks. He sees Kageyama far more than he does anyone else, which makes sense when he shares practices and most classes and half his meals with him, but when it comes to Kageyama and other people…
“All he talks about is volleyball and meals and not failing his classes,” Hinata eventually says, sitting up to give Kuroo a faintly confused look. “I mean,” he adds, when Kuroo’s eyebrows hike up his forehead, “it’s not like there’s much else to talk about, right?”
“You don’t talk about much else either, Kuro,” Kenma pipes up, and Bokuto falls off the bed with a howl of laughter.
“I talk to you about your games,” Kuro says in a choked voice, placing a hand over his chest with a horribly wounded expression. “And when we’re in bed—”
“Kuro, no,” Kenma hisses over whatever he says next, but Bokuto catches enough of it to beat the ground with his fist and howl some more.
Hinata feels, in a distant sort of way, that he should be offended by all this. Here he is, trying to seek solace from his friends and senpais, and they’re just—being their usual selves. It’s still comforting in a backhanded sort of way though, and watching Bokuto roll on the ground is pretty entertaining…
So maybe I’ll just seek advice elsewhere, Hinata tells himself, and snickers a little helplessly under his breath. Yachi would know about boys and confessions, right?
Satisfied with his reasoning and far more at ease with his friends’ antics now, Hinata nods to himself and shuffles over to peer at whatever Kenma’s playing. Everything was going to be just fine, and he’d laugh at himself later for worrying over his dumb crush so much.
Darting glances between the iron and his horribly wrinkled shirt, with his ears trained on the soft rustle of Kageyama’s clothes as he changed behind him and his face several shades too warm, Hinata can safely say that everything is not just fine.
Yachi had, predictably enough, worked herself into such a panic at Hinata’s crush that Hinata had ended up reassuring her for most of the time. It’d been interesting to learn that Yachi once had a crush on Kageyama—but then, she’d said in between bouts of hysteria, almost everyone I knew did—and she’d pulled herself together enough to wish him luck, before he left, but…
He couldn’t just tell Kageyama he liked him. The idiot would probably blink his dumb blue eyes at him and take it the wrong way—and Hinata knew, because he’d done it once while they’d been half-drunk, and only Kageyama’s forgetfulness the next morning had prevented Hinata from diving for a hole in the ground. He’d probably thought Hinata had liked him in the same way he liked volleyball or egg rice anyway, in the same dumb uncomplicated way that he liked volleyball and dairy products, and it’d be cute if it wasn’t so frustrating.
Because, really, Hinata should be ironing his shirt, not telling himself that he shouldn’t be sneaking glances at Kageyama’s back or legs or whatever else was on show. People probably assumed they’d been kissing and touching each other before the party—but all he wants to touch right now is a brick wall. A thick brick wall, with his forehead, at a velocity faster than Kageyama’s jump serves.
“The shirt’s not going to iron itself, dumbass,” Kageyama points out from right behind him, and Hinata shrieks so loudly that the neighbours rush to their door, yelling questions and generally radiating confusion and concern.
But Kageyama sends them away with a quick exchange and a quicker apology, and then he’s turning back to raise his brows at Hinata.
“Is there something wrong with you?” Kageyama asks bluntly, striding up to frown down at him. “You’ve been all…”
There’s a moment when Hinata thinks Kageyama’s just going to huff and turn away like he usually does, too emotionally stunted to say exactly what he means, but then he scowls and mutters, “Bleh.”
Hinata blinks up at him.
“Well, it’s true,” Kageyama huffs, as though Hinata’s blink means something more than just a single, confused blink. “You’re usually all loud and hyperactive and happy, but now you don’t talk and stare off into the distance because you’re all…”
“Bleh?”
“Exactly.” Kageyama nods, pats Hinata twice on his shoulder, and turns back to fiddle with and curse at his tie. “So stop being all bleh, and then we’ll—”
“Pfft.”
Kageyama almost strangles himself with the tie when he whips around to stare at him, but Hinata’s half-collapsed against the ironing board and cackling in short, wheezy spurts. “Your face,” he gasps after a few moments, “bleh!”
“What? What’s wrong with my face, hah?”
“Who the hell,” Hinata chokes out, tears streaming down his face, “says bleh?”
“You just said it,” Kageyama points out in an almost sulky tone.
“Yeah, because you said it first.”
Kageyama opens and closes his mouth, looking so much like a mindless guppy that Hinata almost loses it again—but then his scowl morphs into a pout, and suddenly Hinata’s breathless for other reasons. “You still understood it, so it’s not like it matters,” he mumbles, turning back with his pout still on his face. “So hurry up and get ready for the charity ball, dumbass—there’s only fifteen minutes left until it starts.”
Hinata blinks at him, thrown off by the sudden change in topic—but then he yelps and scrambles off the ironing board, and darts a horrified glance at the clock.
“You should’ve told me that earlier!” Hinata cries, almost burning himself on the iron as he snatches it up and begins vigorously ironing his shirt.
“I did,” Kageyama hisses back, “but you were doing your whole bleh thing!”
“Oh my god, Kageyama, stop saying that!”
“Then stop being such a dumbass!”
(there’s the tiniest of burns on one cuff, and Kageyama’s tie almost ends up ripped in half—but they’re not the last people to arrive at the ballroom, so Hinata’s going to count that as a win)
The thing about Hinata’s and Kageyama’s arrangement is that it’s been getting more frequent, these days—it’d started with formal events, which there hadn’t been much of to begin with, but then Hinata had extended it to other circumstances. Kageyama’s done it too, so it’s not like he’s the only one letting their fake-dating arrangement bleed into their lives, but…
Mixers on private practice nights. Confessions from people neither of them had ever thought about before, let alone had any interest in dating. The invites and confessions had tapered off, when word of their fake dating had spread enough, but then people had began scrutinizing all the time they spent together and the distance between them when they walked or stood beside each other.
Hinata wouldn’t have minded so much, perhaps, if they had actually been dating.
Except they’re not, and Kageyama’s off grabbing food for him because they can’t just camp by the buffet table and gorge themselves like they usually do, and now Hinata’s smiling awkwardly at some middle-aged lady who is, apparently, wealthy.
And can’t keep her hands to herself, he thinks with a little internal shudder, when she reaches forward and pinches his cheeks again. He’s an adult, and he’s taller than her, so why—
“Ah, there you are!”
Hinata almost cries in relief when the middle-aged lady lets him go and smiles at Nishinoya, who’s come up to sling a friendly arm around his shoulders. “Sorry for interrupting,” he addresses the lady with a beaming grin, “but I just need Shouyou for a few moments, yeah?”
“Of course, of course,” she replies, patting Nishinoya’s hand and then Hinata’s head. “Thank you for indulging me this evening!” she calls out, as Hinata mumbles his thanks and Nishinoya firmly steers him away, and soon she’s out of sight.
“You know you’ve got pinch marks on your cheeks, right?” Nishinoya murmurs, quiet enough that Hinata can barely hear him. “I thought Yachi was meant to be like a sheep, yeah?”
“But Coach Ukai said we needed their support for the charity!” Hinata whispers back. “And she looked rich, y’know? Like she could’ve donated loads of money if I just stood there and let her pinch my cheeks a little—”
“Who was pinching your cheeks?”
“—so I just—oi, Kageyama, let go!”
But Kageyama’s yanking on his arm and spinning him around, face darker than a thundercloud and eyes colder than ice. Nishinoya’s stepped back with a funny little grin, eyebrows high on his forehead and eyes alight, but Hinata’s too busy being stared at by Kageyama to really notice.
There is also a tottering plate of food being held in one of Kageyama’s hands, and it looks like it’s going to spill any minute. Even now, as he stares open-mouthed at it, a bit of cheese wobbles and tries to tumble off the plate.
“Kageyama,” Hinata hisses, well aware that people are beginning to point and stare at them, “could we please sit down before all that food spills?”
“Who,” Kageyama enunciates very quietly and very, very clearly, “pinched your cheeks.”
Hinata wants to yell at him to remove his hand and stop making a scene—but his irises are almost pitch-black with emotion, and Hinata stares into them before he slowly shuts his mouth. Maybe he’s annoyed Kageyama, somehow, by appearing before him with pinch marks on his cheeks, but this is more than just his usual grumpy irritation.
If he didn’t know better, he’d say that Kageyama was angry.
But why would he be angry at someone pinching my cheeks? It’s not like his cheeks were being pinched, Hinata thinks, even as he returns Kageyama’s glare with a steady, neutral look and says, “It doesn’t matter—Nishinoya-senpai helped me out, so it shouldn’t happen again.”
“It’d better not,” Kageyama mutters, eyes finally losing their hard, dark lustre as he lets go of Hinata’s arm and heads back to their designated seat, and Hinata breathes out a sigh of relief before he follows on Kageyama’s heels.
He’ll have to ask Kageyama about his behaviour later, and maybe make sure he doesn’t accidentally run into that middle-aged lady… but for now, there’s food to eat, and Hinata happily scarfs it down in favour of more confused thoughts.
Nothing untoward happens for the next two hours—he and Kageyama take turns grabbing food, and Hinata’s more than happy to wander around with Kageyama in tow once he realizes that Kageyama’s a fabulous deterrent for would-be touching. It’s probably his scowl, Hinata concludes, even though it doesn’t feel like the most accurate of conclusions. But there’s no point worrying, really, when he’s reaping the benefits of Kageyama’s presence.
It also means there’s less people to chat with, in general, but that means he has more time to stuff his face and watch people dance. Hinata would dance, himself, but…
The last time they’d tried to dance on a dare had resulted in them both being benched, and not only because they’d given each other black eyes while trying to do a waltz—so it was probably for the best that Kageyama didn’t look like he wanted to move anytime soon. Hinata sneaks a glance at Kageyama, with his elbows loosely propped on the table and his legs sprawled beneath the tablecloth, but quickly looks back at his plate when Kageyama’s gaze shifts to him.
He doesn’t really like dancing anyway—but it’s the thought of being held in Kageyama’s arms that makes his heart race. It’s the intimacy of it, even more than their on-court combos and all the little things they’ve learned about each other since they began rooming together, that he wants.
“Oi, did you eat something weird?” Kageyama asks, and Hinata realizes he’s pulling faces at his thoughts.
But before he can reassure Kageyama that he’s fine, the music winds down and people step off the dance floor, clearing the way for a portable stage. Hinata blinks at it for a few moments before he remembers what it’s for—but then he blanches, eyes widening from mingled horror and trepidation.
Because the last event of the night is a charity auction, to bid for a day with one of four randomly selected members from the volleyball team. They told the team they’d draw the names on the night, and Hinata had forgotten all about it with all the food and Kageyama’s weird preoccupation with the pinch marks on his cheeks—
Except they’re calling out the names of those who got selected—and his name gets called.
He glances at Kageyama, hands trembling ever so slightly, but Kageyama’s gaping slack-jawed at him. All the money’s going to good causes, like much-needed upgrades to some of the club’s equipment and other charities close to the players’ hearts, but Hinata hadn’t expected this.
What were the odds that he’d get picked? And sure, there were rules that prevented any of tonight’s bidders from using them for anything shady—but there’d been that lady who’d pinched his cheeks. There’s Tsukishima, too, who had won a previous bid on him before and made him cross-dress for an entire day, and—
“Oh? Don’t tell me the shorty’s too scared to help out,” Tsukishima says from right beside him, as though he’d read Hinata’s mind. He smirks as Hinata yelps, leans down so his mouth’s barely an inch from Hinata’s ear, and murmurs, “I’m sure the King would love to see you in a skirt again.”
“You,” Hinata hisses, whipping around to glare at Tsukishima’s horrendously smug face, “are a jerk.”
“But you like it when he stares, don’t you? And it’s all for a good cause,” Tsukishima adds with a supercilious little smirk, and only Yamaguchi’s sudden appearance stops Hinata from trying to punch his stupid face in.
“Tsukki, c’mon, your name got called too!” Yamaguchi exclaims, darting an apologetic look at Hinata before he gently but firmly steers Tsukishima towards the stage. I’m sorry, he mouths at Hinata—but Hinata snorts and scrapes his chair extra loudly.
Yamaguchi might be nicer than Tsukishima, but Hinata remembers who had been responsible for picking out his outfit that one time. He’d better hope I don’t win the bid on Tsukishima, Hinata thinks with a little huff, and stomps off to join the other three unlucky players on the stage.
Hinata zones out as the rules are announced, though he notes that none of the players being auctioned off tonight are allowed to bid on anyone else. It’s tempting to shoot a smug glance at Tsukishima for that—and really, how Tsukishima had found out about Hinata’s hopeless crush for Kageyama still remains a mystery to him—but then the auction starts, and it’s all he can do to look happy and relaxed.
Nishinoya gets auctioned off first, to someone that Hinata’s seen around the college’s on-campus day care centre. Then it’s Bokuto’s turn, with Kuroo barely edging out two other people in a move that makes Bokuto wail and Kuroo cackle in delight, followed by Tsukishima.
But then the auctioneer’s gesturing for Hinata to come up, once Tsukishima’s led off-stage by the stranger that’d won the auction, and he almost falls flat on his face in the three steps it takes from his chair to centre stage. He can hear people whispering and see some pairs of eyes light up in interest—and that’s definitely the face-pincher with her hand half-raised to bid for him.
He can’t see Kageyama—he’s probably near the back, wholly disinterested in the proceedings, or left the ballroom while all this is going on—and as the auctioneer opens the bidding for him, Hinata forces a smile onto his face. It’s for a good cause, he tells himself over and over again, nobody’s going to make you cross-dress this time—
“Three hundred dollars,” a clear voice calls from the back, and Hinata stares in shock at Kageyama’s calmly raised hand, auction paddle held aloft and face completely expressionless.
“Three hundred dollars for the gentleman in the back!” the auctioneer says after a few moments, with only a bit of rapid blinking to express his shock.
Hinata, on the other hand, can’t tear his gaze away from Kageyama—even as murmurs break out like wildfire and more than a few heads turn to gape at Kageyama—and he continues staring as nobody else contests his bid.
And why would they, when Coach Ukai and the other organizers had optimistically hoped for a hundred per player? It’s for charity, sure, but nobody’s going to pay that much money to have a volleyball player spend the day with them…
Except for Bakageyama, Hinata thinks, as Kageyama makes his way to the stage to collect him. Except for his stupid roommate and crush, who’d just bid three hundred dollars for him, and it’s hard to keep his voice down to a strangled whisper when he asks, “How do you even have three hundred dollars?!”
“I have a part-time job, don’t I?” Kageyama rather sensibly replies, which only makes Hinata hiss like a teakettle and glare up at him.
“Yeah, but—three hundred dollars!”
“And? It’s for a good cause, isn’t it?”
“I know it is, but—”
Hinata drags Kageyama out of the ballroom by his tie, ignoring his spluttered protests as he marches down two or three unfamiliar corridors, and shoves him into a random room. There’s no lock on the door and nothing much inside, beyond what looks to be the room’s blueprint and some building tools, but all Hinata has eyes for is Kageyama and his reddening face.
“Why did you spend so much money on me,” Hinata growls, crowding Kageyama against a wall despite their heights, “when you see me every day?”
“It’s for a good cause—”
“So you could’ve bid on anyone else!” Hinata yells, jabbing a finger against his chest. “Tsukishima went for seventy-five dollars! Bokuto-senpai went for ninety!”
He doesn’t even know why he’s so riled up, when it means he won’t have to be with a stranger for a day, but Hinata fists his hands in Kageyama’s tie and snarls, “If this is because you’re pretending to be some sort of—I don’t know, jealous boyfriend or something then—”
“What if I am?”
Hinata blinks, fists unconsciously loosening, but Kageyama places his hands on Hinata’s shoulders and repeats, “What if I am?”
It takes a moment for him to process Kageyama’s question—because what does he mean? Is he just pretending to be a jealous boyfriend? Is he just messing with him for some grand joke, and he’s not going to be paying such a ridiculously high amount of money for something he normally gets for free?
He settles on the literal statement, because it’s not like Kageyama’s good at anything subtle, and says, “You could’ve just bid at the very end and not pretended so hard, geez—”
But then there’s fingers tilting his chin up, and Kageyama swallows his words in a kiss.
It’s so short that Hinata almost misses it—but nope, his lips are too warm and Kageyama’s fingers are still on his chin. He’s vaguely aware that he’s trying to gape at Kageyama, too, but all he can manage is widened eyes and rapidly-flushing cheeks.
“I’m not pretending,” Kageyama tells him, eyes steady and brows just the slightest bit furrowed. “I didn’t want anyone else bidding on you,” he says in an almost earnest tone, “and I don’t think it’s a waste of money.”
“So what you’re saying,” Hinata asks dazedly, “is that you are being a jealous boyfriend right now?”
“Well, I just kissed you,” is Kageyama’s immediate response, “so shouldn’t that be obvious enough, dumbass?”
And it’s the genuine confusion in his tone and the matter-of-factly way he’d just insulted him that makes Hinata yell and punch him—softly!—in the chest.
“You’re meant to confess first, you stupid bastard!” Hinata screeches, smacking Kageyama’s hand off his face and shaking him by his lapels. “You should’ve just told me you liked me—"
“But you wouldn’t stop yelling—”
“—or, I don’t know, let me confess when I’ve been waiting for so damn long—”
“—and you… what?”
“I’ve liked you,” Hinata hisses, “for years, Bakageyama. And you—you beat me to it with a kiss.”
“Uh,” Kageyama eloquently replies, dazed eyes locked on Hinata’s livid ones.
“So stay still,” Hinata continues hissing as he gets up on his tiptoes, “while I kiss you.”
“Okay,” Kageyama begins saying, but Hinata shuts him up with a kiss that steals both their thoughts and words for a very, very long time.
“No, Kuro,” Kenma sighs, dragging his whining boyfriend and said boyfriend’s best friend back down the corridor. “Why would you want to do that? Don’t be childish.”
“But Ken-Ken,” Kuro whinges over Bokuto’s increasingly louder whoops and Kenma’s disgusted ugh, “I just lost a bet for the first time. And it’s to Bokuto, of all people.”
“That’s what you get for not having enough faith in my disciple!” Bokuto crows. “I knew he’d be able to discover his one true love before he graduated!”
“See, he’s going to be insufferable.”
“And you deserve it,” Kenma mutters, cheeks flushing as he looks away from Kuroo’s pleading eyes, but—it’s true, and he does.
He’d been worried, at first, that he’d have to burst in on Kuroo’s and Bokuto’s heels when they’d first heard Shouyou's raised voice—but then they’d made sense of the words, and the intervention had quickly dissolved into furious whispering. Why his boyfriend had come up with a betting pool on Shouyou was completely beyond Kenma, really, but…
At least Shouyou’s happy, Kenma thinks, dropping Kuroo and Bokuto at the entrance to the ballroom and slinking back to his seat with a sigh, even if it’s with someone as dense as Kageyama.
He already knows he’ll be hearing more complaints from Shouyou in the future—he and Kageyama were simply too competitive for their relationship to be anything but a little volatile. He’ll most likely have to spend more weekends splitting his attention between his game and Shouyou’s rants about more Kageyama-related topics—
But he’d heard the happiness in Shouyou's voice, even while he’d been screeching, and maybe… maybe he wouldn’t complain so much. Maybe they’d settle down and be the sappiest couple Kenma knows.
Maybe I should get Kuro to take me on a three-hundred-dollar date to an arcade, Kenma thinks with the faintest of smiles, and does his best to ignore Kuroo’s renewed whinging as he finally makes it back to their table.