Work Text:
Somewhere in the Hyogo prefecture, a bright Saturday morning in August dawns on a sleepy town, and on the public parklands to the west, residents are setting up for the weekly farmer’s market.
About midway down aisle 3, between Mad-Dog Beers & Brews (they bring a new meaning to hair of the dog) and Sadako’s sweet soaps (and lotions and crystals and crystal-infused lotions and macrame plant holders and hand-crotched crop tops and tarot readings ((from 2-4pm only)), and down the row from Kita’s Kitsune Kitchen (fresh garden vegetables and wholesale rice), sits the farmer’s-market-version of the Onigiri Miya franchise.
Miya Atsumu hops out of the food-truck version of his brother’s onigiri empire and begins to set up the menu sign boards and shade umbrellas in front. The sun already beats down fiercely for the early hour, as a late summer heat wave is rolling through Japan.
And on this particular Saturday, Miya Atsumu will experience Suffering like he has yet to know in his 35 years of life on this planet.
The volleyball kids have this week off for their summer vacation, so Atsumu is released from coaching duty for the week and is helping out around Osamu’s onigiri truck today, waiting for the adult pick-up games that usually take place later in the afternoon. For now, he’s zoning out at the register, a small battery-powered fan wheezing weakly at him, already dreading the abnormally high temperatures forecasted for the day, and daydreaming about how he can orchestrate some run-ins with his crush today.
Kita Shinsuke is a local farmer who brings his fresh and pickled vegetables and homegrown rice to the market each Saturday, and is the absolute light of Atsumu’s post-retirement life in this small town. Kita moved to the region after Atsumu left to play professional volleyball, so Atsumu never had the opportunity to know him until a chance meeting earlier this year after Atsumu moved back post-retirement and was bullied by Osamu into coaching a kid's outdoor volleyball club, with Saturday games on fields next to the local farmer’s market where ‘Samu brings his food truck. Atsumu has also been able to convince some locals and old friends from high school to play some games after the kids have finished on Saturday afternoons, which has been surprisingly fun.
Since the fateful day when he and a volleyball happened to crash headfirst into Kita’s vegetable stand, he’s had a new reason to show up every Saturday. Atsumu thinks of Kita-san’s calm, unwavering stare that never reacts to his bullshit and sighs dreamily.
Maybe if he hides ‘Samu’s collection of pickled plums, he’ll have to go buy some more at Kita’s place.
Maybe if he walks by at the right moment, he can help Kita re-stock part of his stand, and carry some heavy boxes over from his truck for him.
Maybe this heat will cause Kita to look a little flushed, and Atsumu can offer to run to the tea stand and buy him a refreshing beverage.
Maybe the heat will keep the crowds lighter and he could even persuade Kita to close up shop early and come watch a whole game of theirs…it’s gonna be fun today since Suna and Aran are in town, and Atsumu does look pretty fire in his sleeveless t-shirt, if he does say so himself.
Not that he picked it out with Kita-san in mind this morning or anything, oh no. It just happens to be a nice shade of light blue that sets off his golden skin and blond hair well, and coordinates with the blue coveralls that Kita usually wears to the market.
Not to mention the way it shows off his biceps. Yeah.
However, an hour passes and he neither catches sight of Kita by chance nor has the opportunity to take a spin around the market in search of him, as Osamu has been out schmoozing this whole time. He takes an opportunity to chew his brother out when he finally comes back to the truck and starts whipping up a fresh batch of spicy karaage onigiri.
“I can’t believe ya dragged my ass outta bed on the one Saturday I could actually sleep in to come sweat an’ suffer in your stuffy lil’ food truck all day. Why are ya even cooking fresh ones right now? We should just be sellin’ the refrigerated ones and callin’ it a day, this heat is killin’ me.”
“Heh. You’re gonna like it today,” Osamu smirks.
“Yeah? Says who??” Atsumu retorts, already wiping sweat from his brow, and the games won’t even start for hours.
“Says those shorts Kita-San is wearing,” Osamu replies over his shoulder. “Remember, if you keel over from…thirst, be sure to rehydrate with somethin’ a little salty for those electrolytes.”
Normally Atsumu would respond to sass like that, but he’s already gone, frantically power-walking through the market looking for a glimpse of his favorite farmer…not at the lemonade stand…not unloading something from his truck…not helping Oikage-San feed the rabbits…not…My god thought Atsumu. Kami-sama, if I have ever done anything to deserve this sight give me a sign and I will do nothing else for the rest of my life.
Standing not 10 feet from him, helping little old Aizawa-san place her newest batch of pottery on her high shelves, was Kita Shinsuke, wearing a thin white t-shirt and mid-thigh length shorts.
Now Atsumu had no problem at all with the usual coveralls that Kita wore at the market, and considers the few times he had unbuttoned the top half to tie around his waist on warmer days to be blessed occasions that would fuel his fantasies for weeks, but seeing the tanned expanse of Kita’s toned legs just on display like this, calf muscles taught as he raised himself on his tip-toes to reach the highest shelf, thighs a little thicker than Atsumu might have imagined and looking like they were carved by the gods of the harvest themselves, sends Atsumu into an absolute spiral.
He stands there for several moments, mouth agape, eyes wide, until Suna walks by and slaps him on the ass, saying “snap out of it man, we need you to still have a few brain cells for the match this afternoon - if you don’t pull it together I’m sending Osamu the pic of what your face looked like just now and you’ll never live it down.”
Atsumu’s jaw clicks shut abnormally quickly and he glares at Suna. “Shaddup. And I better not see ya trying to get any creeper pics while I go talk to Kita-San.”
“Oh no worries,” Suna smirks. “I already got some shots of Kita from today, but those are for me.”
“Why you little creep!” Atsumu sputters, and engages in trying to wrestle Suna’s phone away from him until he suddenly hears “Oh hello Atsumu, Sunarin.”
He looks up to see Kita standing right there, smiling slightly, face already flushed from the higher temperature. “Hey Kita-san,” Atsumu returns, letting go of the headlock he had just succeeded in putting Sunarin in, and his voice doesn’t crack it Definitely doesn’t crack he is a 35-year-old man for crying out loud. “Whatcha up to? How’s this heatwave treatin’ ya?”
Kita shades his eyes and looks up at the sky. “Yep, it’s certainly lookin’ like it’s gonna be a scorcher. Thankful I decided to join in y’all’s game today and dressed appropriately, it’s givin’ me a little relief already.”
“IS IT??” Atsumu replies manically, watching a bead of sweat roll down Kita’s temple to pause at the back of his jawline, before his brain restarts and barely grasps onto the most important part of Kita’s last sentence before it’s gone forever “wait, you’re playing today?? With us? I had no idea!”
“That’s what I was comin’ to tell ya” Sunarin smirks, walking around him to place a hand on Kita’s shoulder (Atsumu scowls). “Kita-san graciously agreed to join our game after I texted him this morning letting him know we could use a fill-in. When I found out a few weeks ago that he used to play, I added him to my mental sub-list.” Kita nods in agreement.
“Oh, oh yeah, cool cool cool” Atsumu is so normal right now, just talking to Kita-San like a normal guy who absolutely has his life together and isn’t sweating like a sinner in church. “Yeah we are little shorts today I MEAN A LITTLE SHORT. ON PLAYERS THAT IS.”
Kita just stares at him, bemused, while Suna looks like Christmas came 6 months early, his fox eyes narrowed and a full smile on display as his hand starts creeping back down to his pocket where his phone is.
Atsumu has got to get out of here before this gets worse. He bows. “Thank ya for playing with us today, Kita-san. It’ll be an honor.” Definitely on the path to worse! “Well, bring something to drink if ya want, but we’ll have some sports beverage there in a cooler, don’t forget yer sunshades and I’ll see ya soon.”
And with that, Atsumu books it out of there and goes to lie down in the back of ‘Samu’s tent for a minute. It’ll be fine. It’ll be cool, he will look so awesome out there on the court and finally have a chance to show Kita-san his moves properly, just wait until he sees his serve. Yeah. That’ll definitely be enough to erase any damage done this morning.
Definitely.
Probably.
Dammit.
***
When he and Osamu walk over to the field later that afternoon after closing up shop, he sees Kita-san already sitting and talking with Aran and Omimi.
The group decides to play a scramble today, and mix up the teams for each game. Kita ends up on Atsumu’s team for the first two games, and his presence is both reassuring and unnerving when he’s on the court.
Kita-san is good, he doesn’t have any big flashy moves but he’s dependable as all get out and has very good commentary and strategy to offer during their time-outs. He can analyze the players on their team and across the net, and even his immediate impressions seem to go beyond surface level.
Maybe he hasn’t played regularly in a while, but his work on the farm has bolstered his stamina and kept him in good shape (very good shape, which makes Atsumu sweat even more and lose a little bit of focus until ‘Samu is on his team during the second game and slaps him upside the head, muttering “get your head out of your pants, schmuck.” “SHUT IT” Atsumu hisses, “LIKE I DON’T HAVE TO TIPTOE AROUND YOUR HOUSE THESE DAYS SCARED OUT OF MY WITS THAT I’M GOING TO OPEN A RANDOM DOOR AND FIND YOU AND SUNARIN GOING AT IT.” Osamu just shrugs).
Atsumu would claim he doesn’t whip his head around when he’s pulled off a particularly good move, to see if Kita is watching, and Atsumu would be a BIG OL’ LIAR. He feels Kita’s gaze on the back of his head as their team readies to execute their next move, and it scares him, but he likes it.
However, he never seems to catch his eye after popping off a beautiful set (these 35-year-old knees can still go way deep baybeeee), and that frustrates him.
Yet as frustrating and pleasing as it is to feel Kita’s eyes on the back of his neck when they’re on the same team, it is NOTHING compared to the torture of witnessing Kita’s moves head-on from the other side of the net. Kita’s defense, which feels like a calming support when it’s on your team, feels absolutely lethal when wielded by the other team.
An absolute secret weapon.
At one point, Kita digs a receive by squatting down onto his heels, his knees hitting the ground as the ball connects with his outstretched arms and the way his thighs are pressed back on his calves and bulging out of his shorts is utterly obscene.
The receive is perfect, arcing the ball high back into the air to give the setter plenty of time to prepare the ball to be spiked back over the net, but Atsumu can’t even get ready on his side of the net, too mesmerized by the small, satisfied smile on Kita’s face and the way his muscles move as he stands back up and resumes his ready position.
Atsumu is frustrated and horny in turn when he and Osamu pull off their role-swapping move and Atsumu spikes the ball down on the other side of the net, only for it to be intercepted last second by a spectacular sideways dive from Kita, arm outstretched into a fist that barely catches the ball and sends it back up into the air for his team. He lands on the ground and rolls into a crouch, hopping back up to track the ball with his amber eyes and Atsumu is screaming. Internally, he supposes, because he has yet to receive weird looks from his teammates. Osamu has definitely clocked it though with his twintuition, and is straight up laughing at Atsumu.
Luck seems to be in Kita’s favor today, as the match wraps up and whichever team he plays for is the team that wins each game. Distracting as he was, Atsumu had a new level of fun today, and despite the heat, feels more post-game energy thrumming through him than he’s felt since he retired from professional volleyball.
He walks over to Kita, carrying one cup of sports drink for him and one for Kita. He’s sitting over to the side again, chatting with Suna. Kita takes one of the drinks from Atsumu and thanks him before he tilts his head back to drink, exposing his tan throat and the drops of sweat still running down to his white shirt.
His t-shirt is sticking a bit to his upper chest, and Atsumu can see faint outlines of muscle there that make him want to…he doesn’t know. Put on his own pair of coveralls and move out to the farm with Kita? Where they could work hard in the fields all day then return to the farmhouse and make sweet, sweet love for hours before falling asleep in each other’s arms to repeat it all the next day?
Yeah, that sounds about right.
‘Samu takes advantage of his Kita paralysis and takes the other drink out of his hands, downing it quickly, a lesson learned early when you’re born a twin. Atsumu immediately sends him a look that promises retribution later. If Kita-san wasn’t here, ‘Samu I swear to god…
“Sorry you had to put up with the antics of these two in particular,” Suna says, standing up and leaning a sweaty arm on ‘Samu’s shoulder. “Oi watch your mouth,” Atsumu retorts. “I got quite a few shots past your defense, and I saw Kita-san dig a couple of your freaky-deaky spikes.”
“Yeah I hope today hasn’t chased you off, Kita-san” Sunarin says, and Atsumu deflates a bit. Maybe he was too much today? “Not at all,” he hears, and Atsumu freezes, stuck in place because of the blinding, heart-obliterating smile that Kita is currently directing toward him.
He’s never seen Kita smile like this, joy radiating from the cut of his eyes to his mouth, open wide as he says “I had so much fun, Atsumu-san. Thank you for having me.”
“Of course” Atsumu stutters, “the way you were digging those receives out there today like are ya kidding me?? Yer welcome any time!”
He extends his hand before he knows what he’s doing, to pull Kita up off the ground, and Kita takes it. His strong, callused palm meets Atsumu’s own and his fingers and thumbs wrap around his hand in a firm clasp as Atsumu pulls him up.
Of course he ogles Kita’s bicep as their arms pull taught against each other’s body weight, he’s only human. And he adds another part of Kita’s body that he wants to put his teeth on to the ever-growing list.
God, he is such a creep, why is his brain like this??
In the span of this two-second mental crisis, Kita is standing before him once more, and he gives Atsumu’s hand a light squeeze as they drop between their bodies before letting go. “Thank you Atsumu-san, yer a very talented player. I had just about as much fun watchin’ ya as I did playin’.”
“Oh yeah, well, ya know…” Atsumu runs a hand through his hair, and leaves it at the back of his neck. “I didn’t mind ya stealin’ the show a little bit today. Seriously, whoever played with ya in high school was lucky to have ya’.”
Kita smiles. “Thank ya kindly, I have good memories. Wish we could’ve played together fer real back in the day.” He turns to Suna. “Thanks again for inviting me today - keep me on the sub list, I’d love to play again if I can. Gotta get a few deliveries out today, so I’m going to get on with that. See y’all next Saturday.” And with that, Atsumu’s crush walks away, off to feed the masses and save a litter of kittens and whatever else it is Kita gets up to on a Saturday evening in his perfect little shorts. My god Atsumu wants to know.
“Yeah see ya” Atsumu says softly, staring off in a daze, still imagining a world in which Kita was his senpai in high school.
“Ya gotta do something, my dude.” ‘Samu thumps him on the back. “This is painful to watch.”
Instead of lobbing a sassy retort at his brother, Atsumu’s dreamy look solidifies into something molten, blazing with the fire of his determination.
Next Saturday. Next Saturday for sure Miya Atsumu is going to ask Kita Shinsuke out on a date, come hell or high water or heat waves.