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“No.”
Is the first, and presumably the last, answer of Sakusa Kiyoomi. Atsumu whines, even though he knows it’s not going to change Sakusa’s decision. If anything, it’s only going to make things worse, maybe Sakusa will refuse to talk to him for a week again or something like that.
“But Omi,” Atsumu can’t give up that easily, he’s built a whole personality out of being annoying and he has to live up to his reputation. “Yer ruining my life!”
“Good.”
“I can’t believe this! And here I thought we were friends–”
“I have no idea what gave you that impression.”
“–and now yer letting me down. Just like that. What’d I ever do to ya? Tell me.”
“Do you really want me to tell you?”
“No, just come to the party with me! Please!”
“Atsumu, there’s no way in absolute hell that I will go to that party. It’ll be full of people– no, wait. It’ll be full of people like you,” What the hell does that even mean? “Seriously. Why did you think about inviting me? Bokuto can’t go?”
“Bokuto is going. With Akaashi,” There’s a hum on the other line that means Sakusa understood the problem. Atsumu runs a hand through his sweaty, needs-to-be-bleached-soon hair. “My friends are a bunch of useless assholes, I’m telling ya!”
Atsumu can almost hear the rolling of Sakusa’s eyes. “I’m not your friend,” And then, before Atsumu can continue whining: “Didn’t Hinata ask you, specifically, to go with him? Why are you trying to drag someone else with you?”
Sakusa has every right to be suspicious. Two weeks ago, Atsumu had texted Bokuto and Sakusa to let them know their movie night plans at his and Hinata’s place were cancelled, then proceeded to enter Hinata’s room to tell him that both Bokuto and Sakusa felt bad -so bad!- but they wouldn’t make it.
“Looks like it’s just the two of us tonight,” He told Hinata, fake sad look on his face.
And Atsumu was not ‘selfish’, as Osamu pointed out later, he just wanted to have Hinata all to himself!
He definitely was stupid, though, because he hadn’t considered the fact that Bokuto and Hinata were super duper close and of course Bokuto was going to ask Hinata why he had ‘ditched his senpai for’ first thing on Monday practice.
Luckily for him, Hinata and Bokuto were stupid too, and believed Atsumu when he came up with ‘the most ridiculous excuse, worthy of ya’ Osamu had ever heard.
“Oh man, I cannot believe this!” Atsumu had groaned after a full minute of being scrutinized by his friends and Inunaki -who happened to be walking by when shit went down-, hoping with all his heart that the three acting lessons he had taken during high school would get him out of the mess he had created.
“What happened, Atsumu-san?”
“I think I got hacked again!”
“Oh my God,” Sakusa had huffed out, looking incredulously at him. Atsumu pleaded with his eyes until Sakusa got the message and shut his smart mouth.
Ha. And he insists that they’re not friends.
Bokuto’s eyebrows had almost reached his hairline. “For real!?”
“I swear on Osamu’s life, man! These fangirls are out of control. Just a month ago, they hacked my phone and threatened me to leak all my dick pics!”
“You have dick pics on your phone?” Hinata had asked, mouth agape.
“Well yeah, wanna see?”
Sakusa moaned in agony.
“Wait, wait, there’s something I don’t get–” Inunaki had said, oblivious of the ‘really? Is there something about this that you do get?’ side eye Sakusa was giving him. Bokuto and Hinata looked horrified. “If they’re your fans, why are they mean to you?”
“Well, duh,” Atsumu had sputtered, heart beating like crazy against his ribcage. “They want me all to themselves.”
Hinata had ohhh-ed, like that made perfect sense.
Bokuto had one more question. “And what about… the dick pics? Why’d they threaten you?”
“They blackmailed me, Bokkun. Asked me to follow them on Twitter.”
“Ohhh.”
“Atsumu-san! This is terrible! You should see a lawyer!”
“Hey! Why nobody hacks me? I’m as famous as Tsum-Tsum!”
“Omi, just think about it,” He tells Sakusa. “Shouyou dressed in nice clothes, speaking directly into my ear cause the music’s going to be so loud, probably even hanging off my arm… plus me, drunk out of my mind. I can’t hold back.”
“Okay first of all, if you can’t hold back you’re a threat to society and you should be locked up,” Osamu would agree with him. “And anyway, why do you have to be drunk out of your mind?”
“Shouyou dressed in nice clothes, speaking directly into my ear–”
Someone calls Sakusa’s name on the other line. “Listen. Even if I wanted to keep talking to you, and believe me, I don’t, I have to go.”
“Fine,” Atsumu grunts. “But just so ya know, yer the worst friend on planet earth!”
“I’m not your friend.”
Atsumu ends the call and collapses on his bed, feeling defeated. There’s only one person left in Japan that doesn’t hate him.
“What the fuck are ya doing here?” Osamu says as soon as Atsumu puts one foot inside of Onigiri Miya, customers be damned. “It’s yer day off, ya idiot. Ya should be resting, not walking around the city.”
“I appreciate yer concern but I have bigger problems in my life, ‘Samu.”
Osamu squints his eyes at him, says nothing as Atsumu makes his way to the counter and slumps down on an unoccupied seat.
“The hell happened now?”
“I have to ask ya for a little, minuscule favour.”
Osamu snorts. “Of course ya do.”
“Come to a party with me? Please?”
“Tonight?” Atsumu nods. “No way.”
“Huh? Why the fuck not!?”
“It’s Saturday, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu salutes politely at a newcomer that sits on the very back of the shop, undoubtedly after hearing Atsumu curse. “Unlike ya, some people get laid on Saturdays. And stop scaring away my customers, ya ill-mannered pig.”
“I get laid every day.”
“No, ya don’t.”
“And yer not getting laid tonight, so what’s the point of lying?” Osamu looks a second away from strangling him to death. “Just cut the bullshit and say yer coming with me already!”
Atsumu was expecting his brother to keep playing hard to get for a little longer, so when he asks “What’m I getting out of this?”, Atsumu knows he’s about to crack.
Wow, he must really not have anything to do. Like at all. Atsumu almost let’s that knowledge slip until he remembers: he has to be nice.
And he can do nice.
He got this.
“I won’t ask ya for discounts for a month.”
So many seconds go by without an answer that Atsumu almost thinks he’s said something wrong.
Then Osamu’s left hand is outstretched in front of him. “Two months.”
Atsumu takes it. “Deal.”
to: Shouyou ☀️🐣🧡
hey guess what?
my brother is joining us tonight
from: Shouyou ☀️🐣🧡
ohhhh
okay!!!
to: Shouyou ☀️🐣🧡
is there a problem with that?
Hinata takes his sweet time to reply, and the answer makes Atsumu smash his phone against the wooden counter of Onigiri Miya. Like a shatter-the-screen kind of smash.
from: Shouyou ☀️🐣🧡
nono ofc not!! i just thought it would be just the two of us but it’s ok really!! i love your brother!!
“Hey, what the fuck was that?” Osamu appears by his side in a matter of seconds, hissing the question through his teeth. Annoying loser. Can’t get enough customers to leave Atsumu the fuck alone. “Have ya lost yer goddamn mind?”
“I might’ve,” Atsumu grimaces at the shards of glass sticking into his palm and starting to break the delicate skin, and shoves his hand into his hoodie’s pocket. If Osamu sees blood, he’s most definitely going to faint. Or at least throw up. “Well, I gotta go now. See ya tonight!”
“Wait, ‘Tsumu!”
But Atsumu doesn’t turn around, he just sprints down the good ten blocks of distance he’s got to his shared apartment and screams in utter pain once he’s safely inside.
Hinata stumbles upon their coffee table while trying to reach him.
“Atsumu-san, what happened!?”
Atsumu shows him his now bloody hand.
“Oh my God, how did this happen!?”
“I–” Atsumu starts, then realizes he can’t tell the truth. “I fell.”
Hinata frowns. “You… fell? Like, in the street?”
“Yeah, I just. I lost balance so I put my hands on the floor to not bruise my face and it turns out I forgot I was holding my phone, hah.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, so. This cheap ass thing,” That’s definitely the most untrue part of his lie. “It shattered into pieces!”
“That’s so,” Hinata seems to be picking his wording carefully.
Fake? Weird? Ridiculously worthy of you?
“Unfortunate.”
“Yeah,” Atsumu has to swallow a sigh of relief. “So. I guess I’m gonna go clean this up.”
That seems to get Hinata out of his internal debacle and spurs him into action. “Please, let me!”
And how is Atsumu supposed to say no to that face? Like. God. The things he’d do for that angel-shaped face. Atsumu is a hundred percent sure that Hinata could ask him to stab himself and the knife would be halfway inside his stomach by the time the request is finished.
So he lets Hinata drag him to the bathroom and waits patiently to be examined while sitting on the toilet.
If Atsumu can do nice, for Hinata he can do nicer.
Hinata moves from the shelves to stand between his parted legs, and it blows Atsumu’s mind how he just… fits there. Like he fits in every other aspect of Atsumu’s life.
Then Hinata takes the lollipop out of his mouth to speak and– wait. Since when has he been sucking on a fucking lollipop?
“Mh. These rings look really good on you, Atsumu-san.” Hinata is caressing Atsumu’s non-injured hand, catching the steel bands with the tip of his fingers every now and then. Atsumu is going to die. He’s definitely going to die without even making it to the party. “You should wear them more often.”
“Yeah? I– I kinda. I mean. I don’t usually wear ‘em because of volleyball.”
Hinata makes a sound of agreement with the back of his throat, plops the lollipop back into his mouth and stares at Atsumu with his big innocent eyes. “You can always wear them after practice,” With his now free hand, he takes Atsumu’s injured one. “You have beautiful hands, you know. Big and strong. I like the weight of them on mine.”
Atsumu’s throat goes dry. “Uh–”
“Anyway,” Hinata produces a gauze drenched in a suspicious substance from God knows where, his serious expression reminding Atsumu why -exactly- he’s sitting on a toilet. “This might burn a little.”
“Wait!”
Hinata doesn’t wait. And it doesn’t burn a little, it burns a whole lot. But Atsumu is okay, really. He has bigger problems in his life, hasn’t he said so?
For starters, Hinata’s lollipop is strawberry flavored and has turned his pink mouth to an angry shade of red, and Atsumu is finding it hard to look away from it. Or, no. Scratch that. Atsumu is finding it physically impossible to look away from Hinata’s swollen, glossy mouth.
And there’s the fact that Hinata is standing between Atsumu’s legs. Between Atsumu’s thighs, really, considering how close they are. Hinata has gained both height and muscle while he was in Brazil, but he’s still so tiny compared to Atsumu’s monster body that it knocks the air out of his lungs every single time. He googled it one night, of course, because what the fuck, and learned he has a size kink. Then spent three hours on boyfriend.tv watching muscular guys railing their much smaller partners.
He arrived at practice sleep-deprived and unable to look Hinata in the eye the next day, even Bokuto told him his tosses were off. Bokuto. Bokuto Koutarou. Atsumu still hasn’t recovered from that one yet.
“All done!” Hinata exclaims suddenly, colliding with Atsumu’s train of thought. The lollipop is now hanging on the left side of his mouth, slightly bulging his cheek. Seriously, Atsumu is going to die. “It’s not bleeding anymore and all the cuts were superficial, so you should be okay.”
Atsumu manages a weak nod. “Your face is all red, Tsumu!” Hinata, much to Atsumu’s misfortune, takes it in his hands. “Are you perhaps coming down with something?”
Oh, he’s coming down with something alright. And if Hinata knew with what, he would most definitely keep his hands to himself from now on. “I’m okay, Shou,” Atsumu says, trying and failing to break free from Hinata’s insistent grip. “It’s probably these hot temperatures.”
Hinata tilts his head to the side. “It’s winter.”
“Yeah, exactly my point! Global warming is a real issue!”
“But–”
“Anyway! I gotta pick my clothes for tonight, I have no idea what I’m going to wear,” He lies, again. He never felt remorse while lying to his idiot brother, but lying to Hinata? It’s like committing a crime.
It does the trick though, because Hinata lets go of him and takes a step back. Atsumu misses his touch immediately. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it then!”
“Yeah, ya– ya do that. Thanks for preventing me from bleeding out, Shouyou-kun.”
“Ha, you’re so funny, Atsumu-san!”
Hinata leaves the bathroom then, closing the door after him. Atsumu stares at it long enough that it slowly starts to lose its meaning. Like, who decided to name it ‘door’? Was that the first word that came into that person’s mind or did they have a handful of options to choose from?
Why does Hinata Shouyou keep laughing even though Atsumu’s jokes are 1 not funny or 2 not quite jokes at all?
Even though Atsumu has had his outfit planned since the very first time Hinata mentioned the party to him, it takes him a considerable amount of time to get ready, considerable enough so that Hinata knocks on his door to make sure he hasn’t fallen asleep while changing. Of course Atsumu hasn’t fallen asleep. He was just simply panicking and second-guessing himself.
And it’s not that he doesn’t look good, because he does. The dress shirt he stole from Osamu a few months ago hugs his arms just right, and it’s white. Atsumu always looks amazing in white. He’s got navy blue pants that actually belong to him, thank you very much, and a pair of white Nike Air Force. So, yeah, he looks good.
The problem is– he’s in love with Hinata Shouyou. It doesn’t matter how good Atsumu looks, he will never be good enough for Hinata Shouyou. No one will.
“Atsumu-san!” Hinata’s voice is a bit more exasperated than the first time he called out to him. “People are only allowed until eleven! It’s half past ten!”
Atsumu rolls his eyes. Hinata’s wealthy friends decided to move the party to Osaka only because he couldn’t fly to Tokyo that week.
As if anyone would ever deny him the entry. Anywhere.
“In a minute!” He puts on perfume for the third time, checks his hair for the eleventh, and takes a deep breath before getting out of his room.
Hinata is waiting for him in the middle of the hallway, and he’s wearing jeans. Atsumu may have been mentally prepared to see him in nice clothes, but he was in no way prepared to see him in a pair of light blue jeans. He’s also wearing a polo shirt, which is cute, because it’s too big on him since it belongs to Atsumu…
Atsumu’s brain drives itself into an overdrive. That’s his polo shirt. The one he got for Osamu’s birthday last year and ended up keeping it because it’d look better on him anyway.
“Atsumu-san, you look amazing!”
In any other situation, Atsumu would have preened at the praise. But that’s his purple polo shirt. “Shouyou-kun,” He says and hates that it sounds pained. “Isn’t that mine?”
And see, Atsumu has learned a lot of things about Hinata since they moved in together. He likes to think he now knows everything there is to know about Hinata: at what time he usually wakes up, at what time he usually goes to sleep, how many times a day he brushes his teeth, his choice for breakfast during weekdays, his choice for breakfast during weekends, his favorite activities for a day off, his weather preferences, his music preferences, his movie preferences, his toilet paper preferences, the perfect temperature for him to shower, his dislike for taking baths, how many times a week he facetimes Natsu…
(7 am, 10:40 pm, four, tempura, tamago kake gohan, yoga and reading volleyball magazines maybe going out for a run if he’s in the mood and then even more yoga, sunny and windy, pop latin songs that’ll have him humming spanish lyrics and swaying his hips to their rhythm, horror, cushion soft, almost running cold, I feel like I’m drowning in my own dirt, and a lot).
His knowledge goes from silly to important things. Atsumu knows Hinata’s father abandoned them when his mother was pregnant with Natsu, knows Hinata was underestimated his whole life and he still holds it in his heart, knows Hinata didn’t do good at school because he was too obsessed with volleyball but he’s actually one of the most brilliant people Atsumu has ever met, knows Hinata is as sweet and kind and overall as good-natured as he seems to be.
Atsumu also knows Hinata can’t lie to save a life. So when Hinata’s eyes go impossibly wide and says “Oh, is it yours? I thought I stole it from Bokuto!” in a high pitched voice that doesn’t quite fit his answer, Atsumu can’t help but think bullshit.
And, like. He’d know. He’s the master of lies.
Why would Hinata lie, though? He has no idea.
“Bokuto doesn’t wear polos,” He tells Hinata, because Bokuto doesn’t.
Hinata’s cheeks are more red than they were a minute ago. “I– I didn’t notice. I’m sorry, I’ll go change…”
“No!” Atsumu says, maybe a little too quickly and definitely a little too loud. Hinata visibly flinches. “No, it’s okay! It looks good on ya. Way better than on me anyway.” Well done, Tsumu. Smooth. “Ya can wear my clothes whenever! Seriously! Ya don’t even need to ask for permission!”
...And now you ruined it, you fucking weirdo.
But Hinata only chuckles, the adorable and angelic sound threatens to bring Atsumu to tears.
“Thank you, Atsumu-san.”
“So. Ya ready to go then? I know ya planned on using public transport, but Osamu can pick us up.”
“Oh, okay!” Hinata smiles. “If it’s not too much trouble!”
Atsumu tells him to not worry about it, and manages to stop himself before he gets to the part where he would give Hinata a piggyback ride to the party if he asked.
to: Samu 🐀
you can pick us up now
from: Samu 🐀
k
hey don’t you think it’s embarrassing?
to: Samu 🐀
what is?
from: Samu 🐀
that your younger brother has to pick you and your date up because you don’t have a car
to: Samu 🐀
you ugly jerk
1 you’re my twin 2 shouyou is not my date 3 lemme remind you that i do have a car but bc of your drunk ass fault i had my license revoked
from: Samu 🐀
no wonder shouyou is not your date
who would date a loser without a car?
to: Samu 🐀
shut up or i swear to god i’ll kick your ass when you get here
from: Samu 🐀
i’d like to see you try you old man
Osamu arrives in less than ten minutes, honks five times even though they’re already outside and he can clearly see them rushing to his stupid car. He then declares only Hinata is allowed in the passenger seat and makes fun of Atsumu for not having a car the whole ride. Atsumu should have fucking eaten him in the womb.
They meet with Bokuto and Akaashi on the line outside the club, Bokuto shrieks and hugs his teammates like he hasn’t seen them in months while Akaashi seems relieved that Osamu decided to join them. Atsumu doesn’t know how Osamu managed to fool everyone into believing he has more than two functioning brain cells, but they are wrong.
“Look, it’s Kuroo!” Bokuto grins, pointing at a two-meter-tall guy that’s whispering something in the security guard’s ear. “Kuroo! Let us in already, you fucker!”
“Koutarou,” Akaashi admonishes. “We have to wait in line until it’s our turn.”
Kuroo, bless his soul, doesn’t make them wait. He grins back at Bokuto and gestures them inside.
When Atsumu was in his second year of high school, a certain little crow crushed his dreams at the Nationals, and since that was Kuroo’s last year -whose dreams were also crushed by the same little crow- they didn’t get the opportunity to meet. Still, Kuroo claps him and his brother on the back and yells to be heard over the music: “Oh ho ho, if it isn’t my favorite duo in Japan!” as if he’s known them his whole life.
Osamu is not one to be charmed easily, and yet Kuroo manages to do it just by smiling cheekily at him. Atsumu swears he can feel his brother’s face heating up and almost dies from secondhand embarrassment. He’s so going to torture Osamu about it later.
“You poor thing,” Kuroo uses the hand he still got on Osamu’s back to curl it around his nape and give it a light squeeze. “You’re fifth wheeling tonight, huh?”
Atsumu hopes he’s just imagining the way Hinata’s body went rigid against his. The glint of malice in Osamu’s gaze is enough to make him start hyperventilating.
“Yeah, man. Sucks,” Osamu shrugs. “But I’m getting used to it.”
Atsumu should say something, shouldn’t he? Clarify. Last time he checked, he and Hinata weren’t dating. Weren’t even seeing each other. Though he can understand why Kuroo -or anyone for that matter- would think so, what with them being practically joined by the hip: going everywhere together, doing everything together… and isn’t Hinata hanging off his arm right now?
Atsumu doesn’t say anything, doesn’t clarify shit. Neither does Hinata. Nor Bokuto. Nor Akaashi. They know, just like Atsumu knows, that they’re not dating. Why aren’t they saying anything?
“Well, you can always find me,” Kuroo breaks the silence, winking at Osamu and releasing his grip on him. “Feel free to drink whatever, all of you. You just gotta tell the bartender the keyword. Bokuto knows which one.”
“No I don’t!”
“I texted you this morning.”
“Oh! So that’s why you texted me that word. I thought you’ve gone bonkers!”
“Bo, my first text literally said I’m gonna give you the keyword for free drinks tonight.”
“I’m sorry, I only read the last texts.”
“What?”
“He does,” Akaashi confirms. “It’s infuriating.”
Atsumu pinches the bridge of his nose, anticipating a headache. What’s the point of discussing the functioning of Bokuto’s mind when the only thing that matters, and the only thing they don’t know, is that goddamned keyword?
A hesitant tug on his arm reminds Atsumu that Hinata is still very much clinging onto him. He hums to let Hinata know he’s listening, and looks down to find his face in the glimmering lights of the club.
It’s a mistake.
A sudden urge to kiss the shit out of Hinata overpowers him. In fact, the urge is so strong he has to put a hand on Hinata’s shoulder to ground himself. Damn him.
“So what’s the keyword, Atsumu-san?”
“I don’t know, they’re not making any sense,” Atsumu says, but neither is he. He frowns as the implication behind Hinata’s question sinks in. “Why? Ya planning on drinking tonight?”
Another thing Atsumu learned about Hinata Shouyou: the guy doesn’t drink a single drop of alcohol. Atsumu is not that much of a drinker either, but Hinata is the type to ask for a cherry coke when the team goes out for drinks. Apparently, the first and only time he drank was in Brazil, and he got so drunk he was left throwing up for an entire day.
‘And I also didn’t like the taste of it, so why bother drinking?’
Well, because you’re sad. Because you’re stressed. Because you’re way too in love with your best friend to function. Atsumu could think of at least six more reasons. But he told Hinata ‘yer right, Shou,’ because he was.
Hinata worries his bottom lip with his teeth. “Maybe? It’s a special occasion.”
“Is it?”
“We’ve never been to a party before– together, that is.”
“Right. Well–”
“Was he flirting with me?” Atsumu blinks and suddenly Osamu materializes in front of him, eyes wide. He then realizes that Kuroo is gone, and Bokuto and Akaashi are all over each other already.
Where is Sakusa with his spray bottle when they need him?
“Huh?”
“Kuroo,” Osamu insists. “Was he flirting with me?”
Duh, is what Atsumu thinks.
“Why would Kuroo, millionaire heartthrob Kuroo Tetsurou, flirt with ya?” Is what Atsumu says.
“Atsumu-san!” Hinata lets go of Atsumu to slap his arm, and ouch. Does he even realize how strong he is? “Stop being so rude to your brother!”
“But he–” Another slap. “Hey! That hurts!”
Hinata turns to look at Osamu with excitement sparkling in his kind brown eyes. “Osamu-san, he was totally flirting with you! You should go for it! Well, if you like guys…”
Atsumu snorts. “I wonder if there’s anything Osamu doesn’t like.”
He deserved the third slap. Really.
“Guys!” Bokuto exclaims as he wraps his arms around Akaashi’s waist, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.
Oh, the things Atsumu would do to hold Hinata like that! He would give up his healthiest organ. He would eat a bag full of peanuts despite being allergic to them. He would fucking donate all his money to Onigiri Miya.
“The keyword for free drinks is Cavachon.”
Hinata shrieks. “That’s the breed of Kuroo-san’s dog! So sweet!”
Kuroo likes dogs? Ha. Osamu must be head over heels by now.
Somehow, Bokuto manages to match Hinata’s enthusiasm. “I know, right!? Chiyo is a good boy!”
“The best boy!”
“The bestest boy!”
“Koutarou. You’re yelling in my ear.”
Bokuto’s way of apologizing is by peppering Akaashi’s face with kisses, and Akaashi doesn’t complain.
They shouldn’t be allowed to go out without Sakusa’s supervision.
“Alright, I’m gonna go get some drinks,” Atsumu announces, even though Hinata is the only one who’s paying attention to him. “I insist. If anyone wants anything, this is your chance. I’m not going to be this considerate the next time.”
“I’ll go with you!” Hinata decides with a bright smile.
“Okay,” Bokuto’s tongue is now down Akaashi’s throat, and when Atsumu turns to look at his brother, he’s nowhere to be found. Great. The only thing Atsumu asked Osamu for was that he kept an eye on him in case he got drunk and alone with Hinata, and the jerk goes and disappears barely twenty minutes after arriving at the party.
Hinata is still looking up to him with that ridiculous hopeful expression, so Atsumu surrenders to his unavoidable destiny.
It’s horrible. Hinata takes Atsumu’s hand in his, says it’s to not lose him in the crowd, and drags Atsumu’s shocked feet to the bar. It’s awful: Atsumu’s hand is sweating and trembling and there’s no way Hinata hasn’t noticed.
He needs a drink, like, pronto. A strong one. Something with vodka, or maybe rum. Even tequila doesn’t sound as bad as it tastes right now.
“Cavachon.”
“What?”
That’s what Bokuto said, right? Cavachon. And then Hinata said it was a dog breed, and the two of them started discussing the amazingness of Kuroo’s dog.
So why is the bartender looking at him like he’s a lunatic?
“Ca-va-chon,” Atsumu repeats, slowler. “That’s the keyword.”
“I’m sorry, the what?”
Atsumu feels Hinata snickering next to him before he hears it. “Yaku-san! Don’t be mean!”
Fantastic, now Atsumu is being made fun of. And he fell for it. Right in front of Hinata.
Yaku flashes him a shit-eating grin. “I’m sorry, man. Your brother was here like, five minutes ago and bribed me to mess with you.”
“Of course he did,” Atsumu sighs, but then: “Wait, what’d ya mean my brother was here?”
“Uh, that he was here? With Kuroo?”
“Oh.” That was quick.
“Oh,” Hinata agrees.
Yaku frowns at them, but doesn’t ask. “Anyway. What are you lovebirds going to drink?”
“We–”
“I have beer, wine, all the whites, fruity drinks, sour drinks, non-alcoholic drinks, water…”
“Isn’t water a non-alcoholic drink?”
“Water is on a very different level than sodas and juices, Shouyou,” Yaku explains, all serious. “Tell me, how does water taste?”
“Watery.”
Atsumu can’t take it anymore. “Can ya give me the strongest drink ya can make? Please?”
Yaku’s smile goes mad, and he embraces Hinata in a messy high-five. “I like this guy, Shouyou! He’s a keeper!”
The strongest drink Yaku can make is called seventh regiment and it contains sweet vermouth and dry gin. It also tastes worse than horse shit, but it’ll do.
Hinata takes a long sip of his daikiri and hums happily. “This is really good! Wanna taste?”
Yes, Atsumu wants to taste him whole.
“Nah, thanks.”
“Can I taste yours?”
“Yer not going to like it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because ya can’t even handle the taste of beer,” Hinata pouts, and Atsumu dies to take his bottom lip between his teeth and bite until he cries out. “Alright, go ahead. But don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”
The thing is, Atsumu’s drink doesn’t have a straw. And Hinata, instead of taking the plastic cup from Atsumu’s hands and drinking like the big boy that he is, just tilts his head back and looks at Atsumu expectantly.
And the worst thing is, Atsumu complies.
Of course he spills the drink everywhere: on the floor, down Hinata’s chin, and after Hinata’s done swallowing, Atsumu’s fingers are damp and sticky. Hinata wrinkles his nose at the taste.
“Gross.”
Atsumu nods, partly because he agrees, but mostly because he doesn’t think he’s capable of forming a coherent sentence when there’s seventh regiment spilling from the corners of Hinata’s mouth.
If Sakusa or Osamu were there, they would prevent Atsumu’s next move. But they aren’t. So he uses his sticky thumb to collect the drops of alcohol all the way from Hinata’s chin to his lips.
It’s bad, because Atsumu can’t blame it on being drunk. It’s really bad, because Hinata sucks Atsumu’s thumb into his mouth.
A voice inside Atsumu’s head tells him that this is not normal, that one doesn’t go around licking their friends’ fingers clean. A second voice tells him that he’s taking advantage of Hinata’s innocent nature to fill his fucked up brain with impure thoughts, and that he needs professional help. Then a third voice tells him that it’s very likely that he’ll end up creaming his pants, and he panics for a whole second until Hinata releases his thumb with a wet pop.
“Shou, I–”
“Shouyou,” Someone interrupts him, and Atsumu is glad, because he has no idea of what the fuck he was about to say.
He needs an out, desperately, and when he sees Kenma in front of them, he thanks God.
“Kenma! What are you doing here!?”
“This is my party,” Kenma says, and walks into Hinata’s outstretched arms to let himself be hugged. “What did you expect?”
Hinata chuckles. “I expected you to be in the VIP area all night.”
“I was going to. But you didn’t come to find me,” Kenma breaks their embrace and sets his sharp gaze on Atsumu. If it wasn't for the small smile accompanying his words, Atsumu would feel intimidated. “Now I know why. Miya.”
Atsumu nods his head in greeting. “Kenma.”
“I’m sorry for interrupting…” He considers it for a moment. “...whatever you were doing before.”
Atsumu can’t say more embarrassing -way more embarrassing- things haven't happened to him, but he still feels dirty, like someone just caught him getting his dick wet in a public restroom.
Hinata flashes Kenma an unapologetic smile. “We were just–”
“Okay! I’ll leave ya guys to it.”
Hinata looks disappointed, and in all honesty, Atsumu wants to shoot himself for that. “Where are you going, Atsumu-san?”
“I have to find Osamu,” Atsumu only half-lies. “I have to talk to him real quick and I’ll find ya, okay?”
“Okay– wait, no! Promise me first.”
Atsumu wants to kiss him. Atsumu wants to kiss him so badly, but he also wants to hold him close to his heart, tell him how beautiful he is, fuck him until his pretty legs are left shaking and marry him. Not necessarily in that order.
He hooks his pinky around Hinata’s. “I promise.”
The way Hinata beams at him makes it worth it.
“I saw your brother with Kuroo,” Kenma comments, trying and not quite managing a casual tone.
Atsumu grimaces. “Uh, do ya maybe know where they are?”
“In the VIP area,” Kenma vaguely gestures at somewhere behind him that’s probably on the other side of the club. “Just show the security guard your ID and he’ll let you in.”
“Sweet, thanks–”
Loud slurping noises coming from Hinata’s now empty glass of daikiri stops Atsumu dead in his tracks. He sends Kenma a desperte look, and Kenma picks up on it immediately.
“Don’t worry,” Kenma waves him off. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Just like Atsumu expected, the VIP area is on the other side of the club. Between how dark it is inside and how many people are squeezed together in there, thank God Sakusa refused to go, it takes Atsumu twenty minutes to find Osamu. Twenty. Minutes. And when he does, the first thing he notices is the smell of vodka coming out of his brother’s pores.
“Samu, what the fuck!?” Atsumu demands, pulling on Osamu’s left ear and making him yelp. Kuroo, who is sprawled out next to him in a chaise lounge, hides an amused grin against the neck of his champagne bottle. “Ya stink of alcohol, ya stupid prick! How’re ya planning on driving back home, huh!?”
“I’m not drunk!” Osamu yells back as he tries to bat Atsumu’s hand away. “Let go of me!”
“Hey, Blondie, I don’t wanna intrude in your family problems but–” Kuroo says, intruding right in their family problems. “I can always drive him home. No biggie.”
“I’m afraid that’s not the problem, Romeo, since this stupid waste of time and space was supposed to be my ride!” Atsumu releases Osamu’s ear, not without giving it a hard tug first.
Osamu is so drunk that he doesn’t even bother to cuss at Atsumu or call him a mean name. No, once he gets his ear back, he flops down on the chaise with a contented sigh.
Pathetic.
Kuroo studies Atsumu in silence for a couple of seconds, then gestures to the no-homo-seat between him and Osamu. Osamu ruined his night, so Atsumu might as well do the same and cockblock the shit out of him.
“So, what’s the real problem?” Kuroo asks, passing Atsumu the bottle. “Tell uncle Kuroo.”
Atsumu takes the longest sip of champagne he can manage. If Kuroo is going to make him talk, he has to be drunk, and he has finished his own drink before getting in the VIP area.
After the third sip, he blurts out: “I’m in love with Shouyou.”
Kuroo accepts the bottle he’s being handed back. “Okay, and? Why is that a problem?”
“He doesn’t feel the same.”
“Dude, why would he date you if he didn’t feel the same?” Kuroo frowns. “Did you two get into a fight or something?”
Atsumu feels like throwing up.
“He’s not… we’re not dating.”
“What?”
“We’re not– wait, why did ya think we were?”
“Are you serious?” Kuroo’s eyes have gotten impossibly wide, like he’s discovering something life-altering. “But you act like a couple! And also Kenma! Kenma told me you two were together!”
Atsumu snatches the bottle from Kuroo’s hands and goes for the fourth sip. And for the fifth. And for the sixth. At the seventh, Kuroo starts to get impatient. “Can you please tell me what the fuck is going on!?”
Atsumu swallows the rest of champagne in his mouth. “Not a fucking clue, man. I can assure ya Shouyou and I are not dating, though.”
“But you’re hooking up?”
“Nope.”
“Have hooked up at least once?”
“Still no.”
“Kissed! You two have kissed, right!?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I would. But no.”
Kuroo scoffs. “Bullshit. Why does Kenma think you guys are dating then?”
“Isn’t he, like, yer friend?” Atsumu scoffs back, just to be an asshole. “Yer the one who should know that.”
“Okay, but if you’re not lying to me–”
“Why the heck would I–”
“If you’re not lying, you still have nothing to worry about. Shrimpy is head over heels with you.”
Always the one with the worst timing, Osamu chooses that exact moment to regain consciousness and tries to sit up on the chaise. Kuroo notices, so Atsumu forces Osamu back down before he can entertain the idea of helping him.
Osamu groans. “Why’d ya do that for!?”
“Shut the fuck up!” Atsumu yells at him before turning to face Kuroo again. “Shouyou told ya that!?”
“Well no, but it’s obvious,” Kuroo throws an indiscreetly predatory look in Osamu’s direction. “He never shuts up about you, and. You know. Stuff.”
Atsumu doesn’t know, but what is obvious is that Osamu is hoarding all of Kuroo’s attention now. Selfish bastard.
“Alright,” He stands up, not bothering to return Kuroo the champagne. He has Atsumu’s brother, so it’s Atsumu’s right to claim his alcohol as payback. Or something like that. “I’ll go find Shouyou.”
“Yeah! Get some, Blondie!”
Atsumu doesn’t find Hinata. He finds Kenma, right where he left them, but Akaashi and Bokuto have taken Hinata’s place.
“Tsum-Tsum!”
“Where’s Shouyou?”
“He’s not with you?”
Atsumu doesn’t know how to respond to that without insulting Bokuto, and Akaashi seems to sense that, because he chimes in. “What Koutarou means is that Hinata left a while ago looking for you, Miya-san.”
“I’m sorry,” Kenma says as soon as Atsumu’s eyes set on him. “I would’ve followed him but he insisted on going alone.”
Bokuto nods at Kenma’s every word. “Yes! And he had, like, five daikiri refills anyway! You don’t want to get on Drunk Hinata’s bad side, Tsum-Tsum!”
“He… what?”
“Stop looking at me,” And how does Kenma even know? He’s already scrolling down on his phone! “I’m not taking responsibility for that. Shouyou is legal and consenting.”
“And probably a lightweight!” Atsumu protests. “I’m the one who has to take him home, ya know!”
“Okay. If you wanna blame someone so badly– it was Yaku who gave him the refills.”
Atsumu wants to whine some more, but suddenly his phone is buzzing and he takes it out his pocket so fast he almost drops it, all the while praying to both heaven and hell it’s Hinata messaging him.
Turns out, both heaven and hell despise Atsumu.
from: Samu 🐀
your boy is @ the vip area with me and kuroo
he’s so drunk he thought i were you lmfaoooo
never felt more insulted in my entire life
to: Samu 🐀
don’t let him go anywhere
i’m coming
from: Samu 🐀
you know, when he thought it was you, he threw himself at me to hug me (you lol) right?
then SNIFFED my clothes
what the heck is up with that?
anyways
as soon as he sniffed me, he pulled back and stared at me in absolute horror
and said
you’re not tsumu >:(
Atsumu can’t tell if he’s pretty damn drunk himself, or if that’s the cutest shit Hinata’s ever done in his cute as shit life. He’s so in love he wants to scream. Or throw up. Or both.
to: Samu 🐀
oh
from: Samu 🐀
just get your ugly ass over here and confess to him already!
put me out of this misery
“I’m going to get my ugly ass over there and confess to him already,” Atsumu announces to whoever happens to be close as the last gulp of champagne fills him with fake confidence. He passes the empty bottle to Bokuto, who’s looking at him with a weirded out expression, and starts walking in the direction of the VIP area. “Wish me luck!”
“Good look, Miya-san. It was about time!” Akaashi yells from behind him at the same time Kenma asks: “Hold on– they’re not dating?”
Hinata is sitting on the chaise lounge alone, pouting as people chat and laugh and dance around him. Osamu and Kuroo are standing close to him but not actually paying him any mind, that is, until they spot Atsumu.
Noisy motherfuckers.
“Atsumu-san!” Hinata sighs happily, getting up from the couch and hugging Atsumu tighty. Atsumu all but melts in the embrace, chuckling when he feels Hinata sniffing him. “You were gone for so long! Why!”
“I’m sorry, Shou–”
“Atsumu-san,” Hinata sighs again, but this time his voice is shaky. “I want to kiss you.”
Atsumu’s heart is so loud inside of him he’s afraid other people might be able to hear it. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Yer drunk.”
“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the first time I saw you.”
Atsumu takes a hold of the nape of Hinata’s neck, makes him take a step back so they’re staring into each other’s eyes. “Then yer going to knock on my door as soon as ya wake up tomorrow.”
Hinata nods and throws himself at Atsumu again, hugging him even tighter. Atsumu is not sure that Hinata understood his request, seems too intoxicated for that.
Atsumu is not sure he understood his own request, since the desire of kissing Hinata is currently eating him alive.
But he needs to know that he and Hinata are on the same page. He needs, no, he craves Hinata’s consent.
When Atsumu turns to Osamu, his brother is looking at him with a strange fond expression on his face. Alcohol really does wonders with him.
“Want me to drop ya guys off?”
“Yeah, but…” Kuroo is still right there, so Atsumu hesitates.
“Don’t worry about me,” Kuroo waves his hand dismissively. “I get it. Plus, if Shrimpy passes out, Kenma will get hysterical.”
Atsumu tells Osamu to find him by his car once he’s done saying goodbye to Kuroo or whatever, and leads Hinata out of the club. It’s really cold outside, so Atsumu gets to cuddle Hinata against the hood of Osamu’s Suzuki Swift, thinking about how he’d rather die than lose this when the morning comes.