In terms of personality, Kageyama is the exact opposite of Hinata. He wakes up early, he sleeps without tossing covers everywhere, and he's only spilled juice all over himself once. Maybe twice. Hinata's not counting (he is). When it comes to physical affection, though, Kageyama is just about as different from Hinata as he can get.
Hinata's grown up in a household with hugs, head pats, Natsu clinging to him at night when she's had a bad dream. He thinks nothing of throwing an arm around a teammate, bumping their knees together when they're sitting close enough, because it's how he shows he cares. He glows when Suga ruffles his hair or when Tanaka pats him on the shoulder.
Kageyama is not like that.
He's stiff, rigid, uptight in just about everything he does. He bows, low and serious, when talking to their upperclassmen. He fidgets with the strap of his bag when he's faced with large groups. He shies away when Hinata slaps him on the shoulder, shooting him a glare and snapping “quit touching me, dumbass”. Hinata knows not to take it personally by now—Kageyama hadn't even known how to give a high-five—but, the thing is, the more Kageyama flinches away from Hinata's hands, the more Hinata wants to touch him.
There isn't really a time Hinata remembers starting it. Maybe it has been gradual, maybe it's because Hinata likes a challenge and he feels stubborn, maybe it's because sometimes, when he's alone, Kageyama looks so out-of-place and weird (lonely) that Hinata feels the need to hug it out of him. And he's tried, with limited success. Kageyama does not respond well to hugs, just about as stiff with those as he is with everything else.
That's how it starts, Hinata's plan to gradually worm his way into Kageyama's personal space. He thinks that, if he's just able to break through that weird, scary aura of Kageyama's, to show him how great touching really is, maybe he won't have such a huge stick up his ass all the time.
He starts with small touches, fingers at the back of Kageyama's wrist when he wants to tell him something. Kageyama always yanks his arm away and glares, to which Hinata just sticks his tongue out and retreats, only to try again later. He pats his shoulder after practice, telling him he's done a good job, only to be met with Kageyama frowning and telling Hinata he needs to work on his shitty receives before he can go around telling others they did well. They do get into a fight after that one, and Hinata's resolve almost wavers, but when he sees Kageyama slouching outside of the gate waiting for him (“I'll treat you to meatbuns”), he feels his insides melting all over again and tries, unsuccessfully, to grab Kageyama's hand.
Kageyama asks him, once, after a few weeks of Hinata trying. “Why the hell do you like touching people so much?” and it sounds cranky, but Hinata can sense a hint of genuine curiosity in there. He's come to be halfway decent at reading Secret Kageyama. He shrugs and says just because, and it's true, but also partly not; Hinata doesn't particularly like touching people, he just does it. He likes touching Kageyama.
Or he would, he thinks, if Kageyama would just. Let him.
He keeps at it. Hinata brushes the back of Kageyama's arm with his fingers when they pass, pretending it's an accident and grinning at him when Kageyama shoots him a disgruntled look. He scoots closer when they're sharing the bench, watching Kageyama squeeze his water bottle out of the corner of his eye before he stands up. He tugs at Kageyama's shirt from behind when he wants to tell him something, lets his fingers linger on his back before Kageyama turns and stares him down.
It's starting to feel like maybe Kageyama just hates him, and maybe Hinata's making it worse by trying to worm his way into that personal space. He's feeling a little guilty, and backs off for a while, but it feels like something's missing every time Kageyama's close enough to touch and Hinata forces himself not to.
“Do you not like people touching you?” Hinata asks one day, when they're sitting together at lunch. Kageyama's eyes fall to him, and he looks surprised, like it's a question he hadn't been expecting.
“What?” he asks, and Hinata rolls his eyes. “No, I just. I'm not used to it, I guess.” He's crumpling up the wrapper to something in his hand, looking down at it like it's the most interesting thing in the world. “It's just weird.”
Hinata feels a little relieved, because it's not something Kageyama hates, which means he can keep trying. He hasn't said to stop, and this was the perfect opportunity to make it clear. Besides, Kageyama's never been quiet about not liking something before.
He will wear Kageyama down; he's determined, and when Hinata sets his mind to something, there's no limit to what he's willing to do.
There is maybe a limit. It's been two months since the start, and Hinata is not any closer to getting Kageyama to respond naturally to the touches he still tries. He's starting to think maybe it's a lost cause, maybe Kageyama just really, really doesn't like him, or something. It's when he unthinkingly grabs Kageyama's hand to show him something and Kageyama yanks away that Hinata starts to think he should maybe think about stopping.
And then it happens.
They're riding the bus home together after a game, and Hinata's chosen his usual seat next to Kageyama. He's in good spirits because they'd worked well together, and he can tell Kageyama is, too. There's a pleased flush replacing his usual frown, and Hinata thinks he should be content just with this, even if Kageyama doesn't seem to want to get close enough for casual touching.
He's feeling sleepy, about to doze with his head tipped back against the seat, when there's a pressure on his shoulder. Hinata almost doesn't think anything of it until he remembers he's sitting next to Kageyama, slides his eyes open and there he is, head pillowed on Hinata's shoulder.
Maybe it's an accident. Actually, it probably is, Kageyama's just as tired as the rest of them and appears to be sleeping, but part of Hinata wants to count this as a victory, so he does. This is the closest Kageyama's been to reciprocating, and even if he's unaware of it, Hinata allows his chest to feel warm and a grin to spread across his face, nobody's going to see anyway.
And then Kageyama's eyes slide open; Hinata stiffens a little, expecting him to jerk away, but...he doesn't. His eyes do squeeze shut again and he huffs out a “shut up” and “I'm tired” before Hinata even says anything, and the pleased flush deepens to more of an embarrassed scarlet, but he doesn't move. Hinata tries to focus on anything but the tickle of Kageyama's silky hair against his neck, or the warmth from his skin seeping through Hinata's shirt, but it's hard. It's even harder to quell the thrum in his chest that he might, might be getting through after all.
Hinata wants to grab Kageyama's hand, to solidify this touching with some touching of his own, but he doesn't want to push his luck. He folds his hands neatly in his lap, all traces of sleep gone from every corner of his body while he's too aware of Kageyama's head resting against him. By the time they get home, his back is stiff with sitting still for too long, his legs twitching with the need to move, but it's worth it. Kageyama sits up with his hair a little mussed on one side from pressing against Hinata, and Hinata wants to hug him. He doesn't, but he wants to.
After that, things change. It's gradual, but Hinata is hyper aware of everything involving Kageyama; every time he touches Kageyama's hand and he doesn't move away, every time their arms link together and he's met with a confused scowl instead of Kageyama jerking his arm back. Hinata sits closer to him at lunch, and Kageyama just keeps eating instead of scooting away.
They start to get closer; the first time Hinata invites Kageyama over and he says yes, he feels like he's on cloud nine, like he's just won a million yen, or nationals, maybe. And when they sit close enough for their knees to touch, pouring over homework and Kageyama doesn't even look up from where he's sucking on his pencil, Hinata's chest feels even warmer.
Kageyama doesn't flinch away when Hinata hugs him at the end of the night, either.
It's going so well that it starts to feel almost second-nature to Hinata, while he still is quite aware of himself doing it.
There's a warm satisfaction in his stomach when he touches Kageyama, when his hand lands on Kageyama's warm back or broad shoulders and Kageyama just keeps talking like he's become used to it. Hinata thinks this is what he's wanted all along, for Kageyama to let Hinata cling to his arm when he's talking about something, for him not to shy away when Hinata punches him in the arm or pokes his cheeks.
And then Kageyama touches him back.
Maybe it's not touching him back as much as it is Kageyama ruffling Hinata's hair with his hand, one day after a game. People ruffle Hinata's hair all the time; it's happened since he was small, older women exclaiming about his hair color and how cute he was and him trying not to scowl while they messed his hair up. Their teammates do it, his mother does it, Natsu does it sometimes when she can reach.
It's the fact that Kageyama's the one doing it that throws him off, causes him to stiffen and stare, wide-eyed, before breaking into a grin and letting the melting feeling seep through his chest. Kageyama's cheeks are pink and he moves his hand back, looking embarrassed like he hadn't meant to do it, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't.
Hinata wants to tell him not to stop, to do it again, because Kageyama's hands on him is a step he never thought he'd get to. He hadn't even thought about it, really, content with just the small touches Kageyama allowed him after trying to get through his weird ice exterior.
He spends the rest of the day feeling the phantom sensation of Kageyama's warm palm on his hand, fingers threading through his hair, mirroring the heat in his cheeks. He's never felt like this before when anyone touched him, and Hinata wonders if it's maybe because Kageyama doesn't touch just anyone. Actually, he doesn't touch anyone at all. He's started to stiffen less when Tanaka claps him on the back or Nishinoya nudges him, but he's never touched back. And here he is, ruffling Hinata's hair seemingly on reflex.
Hinata can't stop thinking about it, and the more he thinks about it, the more he wants to touch Kageyama back, to ruffle his hair like he'd done to Hinata and to throw his arms around him, dragging him down into a hug.
Kageyama's weirdness is rubbing off on him.
It's after a few more months of the casual touching that Hinata realizes it's not enough anymore. There's a part of him that wants more, that wants to touch Kageyama all the time, and it's starting to kind of freak him out.
He tells himself it's because Kageyama's started letting him in that it's happening. It's because Kageyama comes over to his house sometimes and lets Hinata lay his head on his lap while they study. He has nothing to challenge himself anymore, not now that Kageyama lets Hinata hold his hand while they're walking sometimes, threading their fingers together like they've been doing it forever. Not when Kageyama sometimes puts a hand on his shoulder, or lets their knees touch without thinking about it. Kageyama never thinks about it, not anymore, but Hinata does. He thinks about it all the time.
It's normal, Hinata tells himself desperately. He's just getting used to the strangeness of Kageyama finally touching him after so long of specifically trying not to. It's okay that he thinks about it in class, when the doodles of volleyballs turn into doodles of Kageyama's round face, scowling. It's okay that he thinks about the feeling of Kageyama's hand on his back hours after they've parted to go home. It's okay that when Kageyama grabs his arms, arranges him in a way that'll make it easier for Hinata to do something in practice, it's okay that Hinata gets hit with the ball a few times after because he's too distracted remembering Kageyama's hands on him.
It's not okay when, late one night, Hinata's touching himself like he does on nights when he feels too frustrated to sleep, after he knows everyone's gone to bed, and suddenly it's Kageyama's broad palm touching him. It's Kageyama leaning over him and breathing in his ear and Kageyama's long fingers stroking the tip and he's coming into his hand before he can tell himself it's wrong, wrong, wrong. It's definitely not okay with Kageyama ruffles his hair the next morning and Hinata's face turns red, remembering what he'd imagined of the now-familiar touch on places it really shouldn't be.
For the first time, Hinata shies away from Kageyama. Kageyama gives him a weird look, but Hinata laughs it off by smacking him on the back, glad that at least when he's the one touching Kageyama, nothing has changed. He just can't let Kageyama touch him, not until he's gotten over this weird thing that happened without him wanting it to.
It should be easy. He'd gone so long without Kageyama touching him that he probably won't notice. That's what Hinata tells himself, anyway, when he shifts away from him at lunch, pretends he really has to get up to pee. There's that look on Kageyama's face again, though, the confused one that sends waves of guilt through Hinata's stomach. It has to be done, though, because...it's really not normal to imagine your friend touching you to get yourself off.
At least he can still touch Kageyama; that hasn't been ruined, and Hinata allows himself the warm feelings that accompany patting Kageyama's cheek or arm or leg.
And then, to Hinata's horror, touching Kageyama is ruined for him, too. It happens at night, again, this time while Hinata's asleep; the dream is pleasant, not uncommon, the both of them standing on the court and something wonderful has just happened, probably, because Kageyama's lifting him up and Hinata's grabbing his shoulders...
Suddenly, Kageyama's under him, familiar flush on his cheeks, and Hinata's sliding his hand under the uniform, feeling sweat-slick skin and they're not on the court anymore. Hinata's not sure where they are, but it doesn't matter, because Kageyama is starting to arch up into his palm and Hinata itches with the desire to touch him more, everywhere, to see more of Kageyama like this.
He wakes up sweaty and panting and, to his horror, the inside of his shorts are conspicuously wet.
No more touching Kageyama either, he tells himself. He has to get over this.
The problem is that, now that he's not allowing himself to, Hinata itches to touch him. He hadn't realized how used to it he's become, has to catch himself before grabbing Kageyama's hand, yank his fingers away when they brush Kageyama's skin before he notices anything. He has to get this weird...thing, whatever it is, out of his head, out of his system before something really awful happens and Kageyama finds out.
There's a pit of guilt in his stomach when Kageyama looks at him with that weird, almost crestfallen look after Hinata pulls away, but it's overpowered by the guilt remembering the way imaginary-Kageyama had looked at him. He laughs it off, grins like nothing is wrong, because it isn't. Everything is fine, he's just been getting too into this whole touching Kageyama business, and it will go away.
It doesn't, though. If anything, it gets worse.
Maybe it's because Hinata's stopped cold-turkey that he keeps noticing every little thing about Kageyama, now. He notices the way he tilts his head sometimes, almost comical. He notices the way his arms look when he rolls his sleeves up at the elbow, or how long Kageyama's legs are, the stretch of smooth skin on his back when he changes his shirt. And his fingers twitch, and he wants to touch, but he can't. He can't, because he doesn't know what his hands will do if he lets himself.
Worse, Kageyama is noticing. Hinata has been careful, trying to pass it off and just keep his distance, but he'd forgotten that Kageyama has been getting more and more used to touching. It throws him off that Hinata isn't allowing it, and he can tell from the frowns Kageyama gives him, brows furrowed and the corners of his mouth tipped down.
But he lets it go, so maybe it's not that obvious. Hinata thinks he can do this; he hasn't had another dream about Kageyama, and he's thrown himself into practice so the tingle in his fingers isn't so bad when he sees the slip Kageyama's stomach when his shirt gets untucked. Everything will be okay, soon, he tells himself. He and Kageyama are still okay, he can do this.
And that's when Kageyama invites him over to study.
He should say no. He knows he should say no. But there's Kageyama, who had had so much trouble in the past just letting Hinata touch his hand, asking him to come over, and Hinata can't say no, he can't. He's never been to Kageyama's, not yet. He really, really wants to go.
That's how he ends up sitting rigidly on Kageyama's bed, where Kageyama insisted he sit while he got drinks (lemonade), looking around at the contrasting neatness to Hinata's own room. There's a chart on his wall for a training regimen, and Hinata almost laughs; strangely, it puts him at ease, remembering what a weird nerd Kageyama is. He's not scary. This is no big deal.
Until Kageyama comes back, that is, hands Hinata a glass, and sits down next to him.
They're silent while Hinata sips at the juice, trying to concentrate on the tang of the lemon rather than Kageyama's body heat next to him. It's hard, because his presence is so large. And he's sort of sitting conspicuously close.
“What's wrong with you?”
Hinata jumps, nearly spilling lemonade all over himself when he whips his head around to look at Kageyama. “Nothing's wrong with me?” he tries, hating the way he sounds uncertain of his own mental state.
“Yeah, there is. Don't bullshit, Hinata, you move away whenever I touch you.” He sounds kind of hurt, almost, offended and accusatory. Hinata can't really blame him. “After you kept touching me for, like, months, and I finally give in and then you start acting weird. If you didn't want me touching you, you shouldn't have started doing that in the first place.”
“It's not that!” Hinata says, tightening fingers around his glass. “I mean, I'm not avoiding you! You're imagining things, Kageyama. Who knew you wanted to touch me so bad?” Hinata laughs it off, or tries to, but it comes out wooden and he takes another gulp of lemonade, wincing when the sour enters his mouth.
Kageyama is quiet for a minute, and then he snorts. “I never said you were avoiding me. You just admitted it. You're avoiding me.”
He doesn't say anything to Hinata's half-hearted joke about Kageyama wanting to touch him, which sends a hopeful wave through Hinata's stomach that he squashes down because ew, gross, weird.
“Hinata, I'm not stupid.” Kageyama's set his glass on the ground and is staring, intense, eyes narrowed. “You can't just do this whole friendly touching thing and then drop it and expect it not to be weird. I was getting used to it, and then-”
“You liked it?” Hinata blurts out before he can think about it, because this is really the first time they've ever talked about this, and the first time Kageyama has admitted to getting used to it, even though Hinata already knew.
“No! I mean...I didn't mind it.” Kageyama suddenly looks flustered, cheeks dusted pink, and Hinata's fingers itch to touch them, feel the heat underneath the skin. He bites his lip. “If you don't want me touching you anymore, just say so.”
He sounds...hurt, and Hinata hates it. He hates that he's caused this after pushing for it, and it's not fair, and he owes Kageyama an explanation. He knows he does.
“It's not that I don't want you to touch me,” Hinata says, carefully, looking down into his glass. “And I want to touch you. I like it. It's nice, that we're...close, I guess. You used to hate me touching you.”
“I didn't hate it,” grumbles Kageyama, looking embarrassed. “I told you it was just weird. Nobody's done that before.” The unspoken fact that Kageyama had never had many close friends, or any at all, sat unsaid between them.
It's that thought, gushing suddenly through Hinata's chest, that causes him to suck in the deepest breath he can, pry one of his hands off of his glass, and slide it to Kageyama's. He grips his fingers after only a moment's hesitation, glancing up at him through his lashes.
Kageyama's face is red. Hinata's glad he's not the only one embarrassed.
The silence between them stretches more, until Hinata's taking another breath and tightening his fingers around Kageyama's warm, firm hand. “Um, Kageyama.”
Kageyama hums, frowning down at his knees like he doesn't know what to say.
“Can I touch you?”
“You are touching me, dumbass,” but Hinata thinks he can feel Kageyama's hand tense under him. That's not a no, so he takes his third gulp of breath in so many minutes before sliding his hand slowly up Kageyama's arm.
Kageyama is so still it's almost scary, but he's not moving away. He has to tell him. There's a warm feeling between his legs that Hinata doesn't want to admit to, just from touching Kageyama, just from something as mundane as this, and he knows then that he's going to lose it no matter what he does, so he blurts it out.
“I want to touch you,” he says, voice sounding like a gunshot in the quiet room. “I want to...touch you. All of you.”
His cheeks are burning, but when he looks over, his face mirrors Kageyama's own. It's a little encouraging; he doesn't look mad, just...embarrassed, unsure. Hinata keeps going.
“I know it's weird, but I like touching you. You're warm, and...I don't know, I just want to. But I thought you might think it's weird.”
“So do it.” Kageyama's voice sounds strained, and Hinata's about to flinch away when he speaks again. “It never stopped you before. You were always touching me.”
“Not like that! I-”
“Shut up.” Kageyama's voice reflects his embarrassment, Hinata thinks; it's a tone he's never heard before. He doesn't say anything else, but Hinata thinks he feels a tremor run through his arm, feels skin warm under his fingers.
Kageyama hasn't said to stop. Maybe he doesn't understand what Hinata is saying, that he wants to touch him everywhere, places he hasn't touched, that maybe nobody but Kageyama has ever touched.
He'd told Hinata to shut up, though. So he does.
Hinata shifts to watch Kageyama's face, still screwed up in a scowl and as red as he'd ever seen it. He lifts his hand off Kageyama's arm, gingerly, watchs Kageyama's eyes flick to him in a weird kind of look...panicked, almost, until Hinata quickly shifts to his knees on the mattress to face Kageyama properly.
“You should, um, sit like this, too,” he says, because he thinks it would be easier. Or more comfortable, or something. He feels his cheeks burning. “I'm going to touch you,” he says, like he's asking permission one more time.
“Yeah.” Hinata doesn't know if Kageyama's response is to the moving or the touching, but either way he shifts, pulling his long legs up to sit cross-legged on the bed in front of Hinata. His flush is creeping down his neck, the worst Hinata has ever seen it, and his fingers ache again to touch. He knows where he wants to start.
When Hinata's fingertips bump the smooth skin of Kageyama's neck, he half expects him to shift away, or to ask what the hell Hinata thought he was doing. He doesn't; instead, his throat bobs with a visible gulp, and Hinata can tell he's setting his jaw like he does right after he's determined to do something. Hinata watches his face, sliding his fingers up the flushed, hot skin of Kageyama's neck, along the line of his jaw, over his heated cheeks.
“Your face is so warm,” he says, mouth twitching into a smile, and Kageyama's scowl deepens. He doesn't move, though, doesn't push Hinata away. His hands are limp on the bed next to him, like he's not sure what to do with them.
Hinata cups his cheeks for a minute before pulling away, and Kageyama actually opens his mouth this time—to protest, Hinata hopes—before Hinata shushes him. Then his hands are on Kageyama's arms again, sliding down, down, until he reaches hands and picks them up, slides their fingers together.
“Is this okay?” he asks, and Kageyama glares and squeezes his hands too hard.
“I told you it was okay, dumbass!” he snaps, maybe to hide the tremor in his voice that Hinata thinks he can pick up. “I don't understand what your deal is with touching me, anyway.”
Hinata didn't understand either, honestly. He clings to the idea that it's because he'd worked himself so much over touching Kageyama, but somehow he knows that's not quite it. Touching him just feels...right, or something, the way their fingers fit together until Hinata slides his away to smooth along the hardness of Kageyama's abdomen. The place he's seen only in passing, the place he hesitantly touches with his fingers when he dips them underneath the hem of Kageyama's shirt.
He can hear a breath being sucked in, and for a minute, he thinks it's his own. And then his finger circles Kageyama's bellybutton, dips in, and there it is again, only this time, Hinata realizes where it's coming from. Kageyama is the one making noises, small intakes of breath. It's thrilling, kind of, and Hinata bites his lip while he slides his hands up Kageyama's sides.
There's a touch on his back, suddenly, and he jolts and looks up. “No!” he snaps, and they both look startled, and Kageyama's retreating and he looks wrong so Hinata catches his hand again. “I mean, I'm doing it first. You...you can do it after,” he offers. It's not that he doesn't want Kageyama to touch him; it's just that it's too much for him to focus on, two things at once that he hasn't been able to stop thinking about.
Kageyama still looks concerned, but after a minute he sighs and nods, letting his hand drop back to the bed when Hinata releases it to go back to feeling the warm skin under his shirt.
There's one thing Hinata really wants that he isn't sure he should go for. His eyes flick back up to Kageyama, to make sure he's still on board with this; he isn't even looking at Hinata, honestly. His eyes are focused on the space between them, cheeks still flushed and lashes lowered. A warmth pools inside Hinata's chest and he goes for it, plunging his hand into the space between Kageyama's thighs.
“Hey, wait-” Kageyama sputters, hands flying up but not yet stopping Hinata's conquest. “That's—Hinata-”
“You said I could touch you,” he says, feeling a tiny bit uncertain, until there's a rattling sigh from Kageyama and he goes silent. This is it, Hinata tells himself, and he lets himself go.
They end up vertical, somehow, Hinata on his hands and knees, palming Kageyama through his shorts. All Hinata really remembers is the room tilting, Kageyama landing on the bed with a muffled thud. He's soft, at first; Hinata focuses on the feeling, the shape of him through the fabric, and slowly, slowly, it starts to get hard.
“Has anyone done this before?” Hinata asks without thinking, remembering the times when Kageyama used to jerk away and hoping that he was the first to do this. He's excited when Kageyama shakes his head, biting his lip like he doesn't want anything to slip out.
There's another noise from Kageyama when Hinata's fingers squeeze the outline of his dick, and Hinata looks up to make sure he's still okay. He has his arm pressed up over the lower part of his face; everything else is red, red, red, an embarrassed blush the likes of which Hinata has never seen before, and the tingle in his stomach is pleasant. He presses down harder, and Kageyama's hips shift up almost imperceptibly.
“Does it feel good?” he asks, and is rewarded with Kageyama jamming a knee into his side.
Hinata's feeling excited too, though, and when a hand slides up into his hair, he relents his policy of not letting Kageyama touch him. It feels so good, Kageyama's fingers hot and soft against his scalp; Hinata dips forward, rests his forehead on the juncture between Kageyama's neck and shoulder. He smells good, Hinata thinks ,vaguely, while he slides his hand up to dip below Kageyama's waistband.
He's groping blindly, feeling hot, velvety skin and distracted by the noises Kageyama's making, small and in the back of his throat, muffled against his arm. He's losing himself, he thinks, in the feeling of Kageyama under his fingers and the idea that Kageyama had gone from touch-avoidant to touch starved, jerking his hips up towards Hinata's seeking fingers. Hinata's palm hits what it's looking for, searing heat and hardness, and Kageyama's rutting up into his hand before he knows what's going on.
“Hinata,” he wheezes from behind his arm. “Shit.”
Shit, indeed. Hinata shifts, trying to rid himself of the uncomfortable, tight ache between his own legs, pleasure pooling in his gut-
And then there's something wet and sticky at his fingertips, and he freezes.
Kageyama is strangely still when Hinata's eyes shift up to look at his face, still half-hidden by his arm.
“Kageyama, did you just-”
“Shut up,” he blurts, face crimson. “Fuck off, shut up, I hate you.”
Hinata's about to laugh when he's staring at the ceiling, suddenly, Kageyama's face looming over his, and there's a hand raking down his chest, his stomach, dipping below the shirt and Hinata keens, gasping. None of Kageyama's touches had been like this; the gentle hand on his chin, tilting his head up, is a little more familiar, but still not quite. There's a weird heat and focus behind it, and Hinata's head is starting to feel hazy.
“You like being touched too, I know,” Kageyama huffs, fingers working against his skin. “You always look happy when everyone touches you-”
“Nobody touches me like this!” Hinata cries, horrified, because it's like Kageyama thinks he'd let just anyone do this, just anyone's fingers trace the outline of muscle.
There's what might be a look of relief that flutters across Kageyama's face. His hand slips under the hem of Hinata's shirt, fingers dancing over the taught skin of his stomach, and it's Hinata's turn to suck in his breath. It's unlike any of the touching before, because it makes Hinata's skin burn and his head swim and he aches for it, and he lets himself ache for it because it's okay, Kageyama thinks it's okay.
Suddenly, there's a hot hand sliding into his pants, searing against his skin and he's biting his lip so hard he thinks it might bleed. This is like what he'd imagined that one time, and maybe a couple times after, but better; Kageyama's hand is callused in places Hinata hadn't known the feel of, fingers fumbling and kind of uncertain, and it's perfect.
It's so perfect that Hinata's suddenly tipping over the edge, sucking in a wheezing breath.
When he opens his eyes, Kageyama is staring at him, bewildered.
“Sorry,” he says, sheepish. “Uh, I guess. I was a little exited.”
There's a weight on his chest when Kageyama drops, grumbling, on top of him, head pillowed on the mattress by Hinata's head. He mutters something about things being unfair and one-sided, and Hinata does feel a little bad, really, but he couldn't exactly help what his body did. Instead, he pats Kageyama's back, pleased when he doesn't even flinch, admiring the muscles under his hand.
“Later,” Kageyama makes him promise afterwards, when they're both grimacing at the mess in the underwear. And Hinata's chest lights up because it's confirmation Kageyama had liked it, Kageyama wanted to touch him, Kageyama wanted to be touched. Hinata's never felt so much anticipation for something.
It's second nature for them now, light touches on the backs of each other's arms, Kageyama's fingers in his hair, Hinata's hand against his cheek. Nobody gives them weird looks because they've been doing this for so long, weird and gentle, that it's like background noise, off-set by the times they fight, when Hinata jabs his fist into Kageyama's stomach and Kageyama kicks his shin.
This is worlds away from the way Kageyama used to be, and Hinata is a little satisfied to think that maybe (probably) he is the cause of it. He's the one who touches Kageyama like this, who can pinch Kageyama's cheeks and link their fingers together and trace the lines of his palm with his fingertips.
He's the one who is repaid, one night, with feathery, uncertain touches down his stomach and between his legs, and nights and nights after, when they become less uncertain and more strong, but equally as searing. He's the one who gets to slide his hands over Kageyama's legs, thighs, everywhere, and commit it to memory.
And while it's nice to see that Kageyama's opening up to their teammates a bit more, too, letting Tanaka pull him into a side-hug and Suga reach up to ruffle his hair, it's also kind of nice that it's still Hinata, at the end of the day, whose hand Kageyama slips his into, whose shoulder he falls asleep on, whose chest is warm and tight when Kageyama returns a hug, burying his face into Hinata's shoulder.
Kageyama might be an uptight asshole, and he might be annoying, and he might be a jerk, but there's pretty much nobody else Hinata wants to touch as much.