Archive of Our Own

Tobio has come to understand that the universe, given the chance, will always choose to gleefully and unrelentingly fuck him over the first opportunity it gets. This goes double any time he has his guard lowered, triple whenever the chance involves a certain, boisterous redhead with whom he has condemned himself to a mutual living situation.

He still doesn't know how they managed to arrive at the decision to room together in college, upon graduating from Karasuno. Well, that's not entirely true. First off: it would have been almost impossible to live with anyone else. Tobio is not a people person. Hinata is too much of one. They're both exhausting to deal with in their own ways, and though it's unlikely either of them will ever change, they've at least come to realize this about each other.

Second, they are admittedly best friends—though this is a secret admission on both their parts. Publically, they are rivals, fated to battle nearly to the death over volleyball, who can get to the train station the fastest, and toothbrushing elbow space. The last remains a point of contention, despite multiple stayovers at each other's houses throughout their time at Karasuno. Now there are no parents to ask them to keep it down when Tobio starts shouting, or Hinata starts shrieking. There are, Tobio supposes, the neighbors to think about, but to be honest, he doesn't give a fuck.

The third and final reason is the simplest, and yet also the most complicated. Simply put: Hinata asked him if he wanted to room together, and he said, "Fine." Very simple. Super simple.

He said "Fine," because he's in love with Hinata.

So, that's the complicated part. Tobio has been in love with Hinata for, he thinks, maybe at least two and three-quarter years now—which the astute observer might notice is basically the entire time they have known each other, and this is a fact Tobio is very well aware of, but thanks for pointing it out, asshole. He knows. He knows he's got it bad, has had it bad since that stupid mop of orange hair waltzed into his life and told him it was going to defeat him. Or maybe it was when he turned around like an idiot and told Hinata that he would always be there, would make sure Hinata got everything he ever wanted—the chance to fly, to be invincible.

Seriously, who says shit like that, if they're not already totally and completely in love? Nobody, that's who. Which is why it's vaguely baffling, that Hinata hasn't caught on yet, but whatever. Hinata had wanted to live together. And so here they are.

They have made it through less than one week of living together and here's Tobio, standing in the doorway of their cramped bedroom, the question on his lips about going out to grab dinner dying a violent death as he catches sight of Hinata, his new roommate, standing in the middle of the room and twisting his lower half in place to survey how he looks in a skirt.

A skirt. Hinata is wearing a skirt.

It's not just any skirt. It's… it's the cutest fucking skirt, possibly article of clothing, that Tobio has ever borne witness to in his whole life. Pale, bubblegum pink, small white polka dots, large pleats in some kind of light, floaty material that ruffles outward delicately, as though the thread was spun by angels. Tobio chokes on how ridiculous his train of thought is, but seriously, the thing is so cute. Hinata turns again.

It's also miniscule, low on his waist but still high on his thighs. He's always thought Hinata has really… really good legs, well-proportioned for how little he is, and strong, and able to jump. But barefoot, lifted up onto his toes as he cranes his neck, popping his hip and butt out as he looks over his shoulder, so much leg exposed and yet not enough, not quite enough… Tobio has admittedly seen a lot of him (all of him, Hinata is not shy) in the locker room on numerous occasions, but not like this, never like this, somehow.

"Hinata," he manages to choke out, and the other boy yelps and spins, the skirt flying up over his little black briefs, and Tobio stares.

"Don't sneak up on people!" Hinata scolds him. "It's rude!"

"What are you doing?" Tobio grinds out.

"Oh," Hinata says, like he had forgotten. "I was unpacking and I found this in my bag! I think it's Natsu's."

Hinata's packing situation is an absolute disaster, so Tobio can believe this. He isn't sure the other boy packed, so much as threw everything within arms' reach into boxes and hoped for the best. However…

"Why… did you try it on?" Tobio asks slowly.

"I was trying to remember why I had it." Hinata says. Oh, of course, obviously. "I wanted to see if it fit!"

Tobio sighs. "And?"

"It does!" Hinata chirps, beaming at him. "But it's a little small."

"No shit," Tobio says blankly.

Hinata grins at him, slyly. "What? You don't think it looks good?"

"What? I don't—" Tobio gapes at him. "It looks—stupid! You look dumb, dumbass. It clashes with your hair."

Hinata bursts out laughing. "Sorry, I wasn't aware you were such a fashion expert."

"I'm not! Dumbass," Tobio says again, willing himself not to blush. He's unsuccessful. "Red and pink don't mix, everyone knows that."

"Do they, Kageyama-kun?" Hinata asks blithely, and then ducks as Tobio throws his bag at him. Still laughing, he says, "Alright, alright—stop throwing stuff at me, I'm trying to find my pants…"

He changes, Tobio informs him he is paying for dinner. They argue the entire rest of the way to the ramen shop, and Tobio figures that is the end of the matter of the skirt.

The universe chuckles at his naivete (and maybe throws out a "fuck you" on top of it).

*

It is not the end of the matter of the skirt. It is so far from the end that Tobio might consider calling the first instance of what he has come to term Skirt Shouyou a prologue, or a prequel, or at least he would if he had ever paid much attention in Japanese literature class.

The second time it happens, Tobio is on the couch when Hinata emerges from the shower with his hair wet and nothing on but pink polka dots. He hasn't dried himself properly, and the material sticks to his legs, pulling up in the back. Tobio hikes the sports magazine he is reading up in front of his face.

"You didn't send that back to Natsu?" he asks, trying very hard to keep his voice neutral. He probably sounds vaguely annoyed, but that's just normal.

"No—you know, these are actually super comfortable? Besides, she won't miss it." Hinata waves a hand. "She has like a billion of these, and they're nearly all the same color. Maybe we should call up my house, and you can explain how red and pink don't go together—"

"I will smother you in your sleep," Tobio says flatly.

"Kidding!" Hinata reassures him. "Besides, I don't want you to make her cry."

"She won't," Tobio huffs. "Natsu actually listens to me."

The third time it happens, Hinata is sprawled out on the couch when Tobio gets home from class, mindlessly flicking through TV channels. He lets out a whoop at the sight of Tobio and proclaims, "Finally! I'm so bored!" as though things are going to change, instead of it just becoming both of them sprawled out on the couch, mindlessly flicking through TV channels.

"What are you watching?" Tobio asks, coming to sit down next to him when Hinata moves his legs to give him space.

"I dunno, variety shows mostly." He plops his legs down into Tobio's lap when he's settled—his bare legs, with his bare feet, and tiny, wriggly toes. Tobio stares at them angrily, aggressively wishing he could kiss them.

Apparently, watching variety shows without Tobio equals boredom, but watching them together equals fun, and soon enough, Hinata is squirming and giggling with laughter at the antics of the hapless guests trying to contort their bodies into various shapes in order to win a competition. He writhes around so much when one man gets stuck that it hikes his skirt all the way up his legs and—

"Hinata," Tobio says sharply, "are you wearing anything under that?"

"Huh?" Hinata asks, wiping tears from his eyes. "No, why?"

"That's—!" The sentence ends there, because Tobio is beside himself.

"That's what?"

Tobio takes a few deep breaths, composing himself. "That's like walking around naked."

Hinata stares at him. "It is not!"

"It is!" Tobio argues. "It definitely is. That would be like if I wasn't wearing anything under these," he explains, gesturing toward his pants. Hinata stares at them. If there existed a list of places Tobio would prefer Hinata not stare at, one of the items near the top of said list would definitely be Tobio's Crotch, because it has a tendency to act very stupid and weird where Hinata is concerned. He crosses his legs self-consciously.

"Even if you didn't wear anything under your pants, I wouldn't care," Hinata finally says. "It's our dorm room. Who cares?"

"I—" Tobio splutters. "You should—care."

"I don't, though," Hinata rolls his eyes. "Besides, it's not like we've never seen each other's butts before. If you want to walk around our place naked, go ahead."

"Fine!" Tobio says. "Maybe I will!" He's not going to.

"Okay," Hinata nods, and goes back to watching the variety show. He moves about less, though, Tobio notices. He isn't sure if he's happy about this or not.

As it turns out, he will get many more opportunities to perform this personal assessment, because Hinata just—keeps—wearing it. It must really be comfortable, because it would be more accurate to say he's living in it. He rarely takes it off at home, and wears it while doing anything and everything—reading manga, playing video games, stretching, doing homework, napping. Tobio thinks he'll get desensitized to it, eventually, but after several weeks go by with no signs of Hinata giving up his new favorite article of clothing, and no signs of Tobio regaining control over his boner, he realizes this is not going to be the case. This is it, this is his life now.

Eventually, he has to put his foot down in certain situations, but not how he'd expected. He's attempting to study for a test he has the next morning (six chapters of a textbook he has not bothered to read until that night), and it's difficult to accomplish anything over the sound of Hinata singing and bouncing about in the kitchen. Tobio doesn't complain, though, because the other boy is singing and bouncing about the kitchen making them dinner in the skirt, which is so short it's not even visible from the front under the apron he's wearing. Tobio keeps sneaking glances at him from the table across the room. When Hinata bounces, so does the skirt, adorably fluttering up on his thighs as he dances around the kitchen to the (questionably rhythmic) beat of his own song.

"Ka-ge-ya-maaaa!" he sings. "Do you want extra noodles with yours?"

"Yeah," Tobio calls back. "But don't drop them in all at once, you'll—"

He's too late, it's already happening. Hinata just releases the entire clump of noodles he is holding in his chopsticks, there's a loud splash, and the clattering of a lid. Hinata stumbles backwards and gasps in pain.

"Shouyou—" Tobio knocks his chair over he's out of it so fast. Hinata looks up at him when he enters the kitchen. He's pressing his fingers to a splotch on his leg, red and angry and burned, standing out against his pale thigh. "God dammit," Tobio swears, grabbing his hand away so he can inspect the mark.

"It hurts," Hinata says, eyes wide and voice even higher than usual.

"That's because you just threw boiling water on your leg, idiot," Tobio tells him. He snatches a towel from the sink and soaks it in cold water before wringing it out, kneeling in front of Hinata to press it to his thigh.

"Sorry," Hinata says.

"Don't apologize to me, I'm not the one you burned."

"Yeah, but…" Hinata gestures at the towel. "Thanks."

"It's not a big deal," Tobio mutters. He pulls the towel away to squint at the burn. It looks worse than it is, not a deep burn, but large, and on the sensitive skin high up on the inside of Hinata's thigh. It probably does hurt a lot. He runs his thumb over it carefully. "Does that…"

Above him, Hinata gasps. Tobio looks up, and from the ground realizes he can see almost right up the skirt. Hinata is leaning back against the counter, hands gripping the edge tight—he has his lip caught between his teeth, and when Tobio absently brushes over his skin again he lets out a soft, "Ah—"

Tobio yanks his hand away. "Shit—sorry—did I hurt you?"

Hinata shakes his head. "No. No, it's okay. It… it didn't feel too bad…"

They stare at each other for a moment. Tobio shakes his head. "Good. Fine. That's—it should heal in a couple of days, but you should put something on it, I guess."

Hinata is nodding. "Yeah, yeah I'll—I'll go do that now."

There is a loud bubbling noise from behind them.

"Crap, the noodles!" Hinata wails.

"Nevermind that," Tobio snaps. "Go take care of your leg, I'll do this."

Hinata nods, showering him with thank-yous, headed for the bathroom. Tobio turns to the noodles, but calls out, "Oy, Hinata!"

Hinata pokes his head back around the doorframe. "Yeah?"

"Don't—no more wearing that," Tobio says gruffly, indicating the skirt. "Not while cooking."

Hinata nods. "Okay. Sorry."

Tobio waves him off. He thinks about the way the skirt shimmied around Hinata's bottom while he danced and cooked for the two of them, and feels momentarily upset about shutting down skirts in the kitchen. But then he thinks about angry red burns and soft exclamations of pain and feels like it is worth it.

Besides, he thinks forlornly, it's not like he doesn't have plenty of opportunity to see it at other times.

*

On Sunday, they decide to go see a movie. It's spur of the moment, still morning when Tobio is busy rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he shuffles into the kitchen, and Hinata manages to convince him. They decide to eat lunch out, and so after a hurried breakfast, Tobio stands waiting by the door, listening in increasing concern to what sounds like a small elephant rampaging about the bedroom.

"We can just catch a later show," he calls out, and gets a resounding crash in return.

"No, it's fine—let's just go—" Hinata sounds breathless and he hears the door to the room slam shut. "I think I threw all my shorts in the wash, dammit…"

He bounces up to the door and Tobio feels the impending wave of doom crash over him and sweep him under into the riptide. He's not sure why he's surprised, at this point. This is the next logical step, after all. Maybe, deep down, he was always expecting it. That would explain the sudden and inexplicable calm that descends upon him, mere moments after Hinata has emerged into the hallway in a colorful, overlarge sweatshirt that falls nearly to the bottom of his pink skirt.

The little polka dot pleats are just barely visible under the hem of the sweatshirt, his high top Converse sneakers the only thing covering any skin between his ankles and where the skirt hits his thighs. The edges of the sweater making it conform to the curve of his ass and pull up somehow even higher than usual. Tobio can sense his soul crying out in delight at the vision of pink sweetness Hinata presents.

"Shut up," he mutters at it under his breath.

"What?" Hinata asks curiously.

"You're not going commando, right?" Tobio double checks.

"No!" Hinata reddens. "I've got—I told you, that's only around each other!"

A very long and significant silence follows those words. Tobio clears his throat. "Let's go, or we're gonna miss it."

It's really a mark of their relationship, that Tobio doesn't attempt to dissuade him from wearing the skirt out. For one, Hinata looks too cute for him to do that. Second, he has never been able to dissuade Hinata from doing anything he wants to do, anyway.

Third, if his little friend wants to wear a skirt to go out and see a movie, Tobio doesn't see why he shouldn't be able to do that. Tobio is six solid feet of irritability and potent death glares—let anyone try and say anything to Hinata, he fucking dares them.

No one does, perhaps because Tobio has pre-emptively entered Death Glare Mode by the time they are on the train to Harajuku, though he does catch a few sideways glances. Once they're actually off the train, the amount of people staring seems to drop even less, though that may have to do with the fact that they're… in Harajuku. He wonders if this is something Hinata had foreseen. It's less likely he would have decided to go with the skirt if they still lived back home in Miyagi.

They make it in time for the movie, and it's not a bad film. He pays attention to the beginning, mostly. He is admittedly somewhat distracted, by the way Hinata pulls his legs up in the chair when he gets chilly—the A/C is cranked high in the theater. He rubs his hands over his calves and thighs absent-mindedly, until Tobio strips off his hoodie and lays it over his bare legs. Hinata glances down at it before looking over at him, the lights from the screen reflected in his big brown eyes.

Suddenly, he's grabbing Tobio's hands, pulling them into his lap where they are warm against Hinata's frigid fingers as he leans into Tobio's shoulder. It can't be comfortable; the armrest is still down between them. Tobio pulls his hands away and Hinata looks at him for a second with an odd expression on his face, until Tobio raises the armrest out of the way and holds out his hands again. Hinata smiles.

He leans in close to whisper over the noise of the action scene currently playing. "It's cold in here!"

Tobio shushes him and intertwines their fingers as Hinata rests against him, squirming until he's settled.

Tobio has no idea what happens during the entire rest of the movie. All he's aware of is the weight of Hinata's shoulder against his, and the way he can feel the tickle of his hair if he turns his head just slightly, and how Hinata's fingers tighten a bit painfully against his own when the movie gets particularly explosion-happy. Once or twice, Hinata rubs his thumbs against his palms and over his knuckles.

If it's possible to find happiness, pure and simple, watching a kind of shitty action movie in a darkened movie theater, with his arms chilled and slightly goosebump-y (from the temperature of the room, from Hinata's hands warming in his), then he thinks maybe he's done it.

The only problem is—the only thing is that while he's discovering the almost exact location of nirvana… Hinata is just… watching a movie.

The realization isn't enough to make him give up the hand-holding or the proximity, and by the end of the movie's runtime, his nerves are feeling suitably frayed after having to put up with his conflicting feelings for the entire two hours. He's quiet during lunch afterward, but it doesn't bother Hinata (his silences never have, Hinata just fills them instead). The excitable redhead seems to have really enjoyed the film, and has probably re-quoted the entire thing at him by the time they are done and ready for the check.

Tobio fishes some money out of his wallet and tosses it onto the table, grunting out "bathroom," to Hinata as he gets up from his seat. Hinata waves him off as he dumps a handful of yen onto the table, scattering bills and coins everywhere.

Tobio doesn't take a long time in the bathroom. He's mainly struck by this fact because when he emerges, his first feeling is surprise, at seeing someone else seated at the table where he left Hinata. He was barely gone two minutes.

His second feeling is confusion, his expression no doubt mirroring Hinata's own. His friend is sitting with his head cocked to the side, mouth slightly open and cheeks pink, staring at the slightly older guy across the table from him. Tobio wonders if it's someone Hinata knows from school, maybe an upperclassman.

But what he feels next is the strongest of his emotions, and it comes as he watches this person, this guy he doesn't know, reach out under the table and put a hand on Hinata's knee, thumb stroking over his bare skin. Hinata blinks, stunned, before pulling away, sliding his chair back, an angry glare forming over his features.

And Tobio sees red.

His feet move without him thinking about it, his arm reaches out of its own accord, he spins this random asshole around in his seat with a shove to the shoulder and stares down at him with all the cold fury he can manage, which is a lot.

"Who the hell are you?" the guy asks him and it pisses Tobio off so much that he grabs him by the collar of his shirt with both hands, nearly pulling him out of the chair. He wants to know who Tobio is?

"Who the hell are you?" Tobio half-shouts at him. "And what the hell are you trying to pull?"

"Calm down, asshole," the guy says. "I didn't know he was with someone, alright?"

"Yeah, he's with me," Tobio snaps, releasing him roughly. "And he doesn't want your shitty hands all over him so get lost."

"I'm with you?"

The heated showdown is put on pause as Hinata speaks up. Tobio glances at him, to see wide, shocked eyes staring up at him, and his stomach clenches. Uh…

But before he can respond, Seat Stealer says, "Okay, whatever. I mean, I don't know what either of you expected, if he's gonna dress like that in public—"

Tobio reaches back down and yanks the guy out of his chair fully, pulling him up to eye level. "You say one more word," he growls, "and you're gonna wake up wondering how you got on the floor."

He lets go of the guy's shirt and doesn't take his eyes off his back as he watches him depart quickly. A hand tugs at his sleeve, and Hinata stands up next to him.

"We should go," Hinata says softly. His face is red and he self-consciously keeps tugging his skirt down with one hand—so Tobio grabs it, laces their fingers together like in the movie theater, and holds on tight. They both bow apologetically to the very quiet room at large, the wait staff, the chefs behind the counter, before clearing out of the restaurant. He's still holding onto Hinata's hand when they board the train. The doors have closed and they are pulling away from the station before Hinata speaks.

"Thanks," he murmurs at his lap. "I guess I shouldn't have worn…"

"Don't be dumb," Tobio cuts him off. "It's just clothes. It's nobody else's fucking business what you wear, and it's not an open invitation, either." He can feel Hinata's eyes on him and the back of his neck starts to heat up. He realizes they are still holding hands, starts to panic internally. Should he let go? Would that be way too obvious? Now his palms are starting to sweat—dammit.

Hinata huffs out a laugh. "I thought that guy was gonna pee himself. You were, um. Really intense."

Tobio hums, and glances over at him.

Hinata is openly staring at him. He's doing The Thing, the wide eyes, the piercing golden gaze. Tobio has no idea what to say. What should he say, after barging in, acting as though Hinata was off limits, practically dragging him out of the restaurant? No matter how he feels, Hinata isn't with him. Not like that. He's just as much of an asshole as that other guy.

"Super intense…" Hinata repeats, finally looking away, staring out the window. "You seemed pretty convincing."

"I…" Tobio falters. Shit, shit. He's not good at keeping things from Hinata, never has been. It's a miracle he hasn't been found out before now—did he finally blow it entirely? "Really? I mean, that guy was pretty dumb, if he could be fooled by that. It was so obvious I was faking." He forces out a laugh. He is not the best at laughing even under normal circumstances, and the sound he makes is more like a cat choking on hair.

Hinata looks back at him, head cocked to the side. Then he smiles, and laughs, too. "Yeah, I guess you're right. A person would have to be like, really dumb to fall for your terrible acting. "

Tobio swallows, and nods. "Yeah."

Neither of them says another word about what happened, even after they get home. Hinata disappears into the bedroom, calling into the living room, "Wanna watch one of the matches I recorded last week?"

Tobio sits down on the couch. That's fine, isn't it? Doing a normal, friend-like activity together is fine. "Yeah, okay."

"I heard this was a good match," Hinata says excitedly when he emerges. Tobio stares at him as he settles down on the opposite end of the couch and begins messing with the remote.

He changed while he was in the room, apparently having found a reserve stash of clean clothes. He's wearing shorts, now.

*

It's two weeks later when Tobio gets the call. He's struggling with his books and messenger bag and keys, trying to get into the apartment, and his cell phone starts going off.

"Shit," he mutters, trying to excavate it from his pocket. He drops his keys. "Ah, fuck, dammit, son of a bitch—hello? Motherf—"

"Tobio-niiiiii!" a tiny voice screams into his ear and he rapidly backpedals.

"—fffun evening I am having tonight, hey, how's it going, Natsu-chan?" he pretty much shouts into the phone as he finally gets his keys in the lock to let himself in. Why is Hinata's sister calling him? "Is everything okay?"

The apartment is empty, no Hinata in sight, and Tobio dumps his stuff on the kitchen counter as he toes off his shoes.

"Yes!" she sings. "My mom wanted me to remind you about visiting this weekend!"

"Remind me?"

"Yeah, Nii-chan told you, right? He's coming home this weekend and we said to bring you, too!"

Tobio wants to point out how this doesn't make a lot of sense—they're from the same town, he could just come home to visit his own family—but he doesn't, partly because the Hinata family gets excited over everything.

The main reason he doesn't say anything is mostly because Hinata hasn't said a word to him about it.

"I, uh," he says haltingly, interrupting Natsu's rambling about what they'll have for dinner. "I'll remind him. But I may not be able to come, I've got a… lot of homework this weekend."

Natsu "awwwww"-s mightily.

"Sorry, sorry," he says. "Next time." He hopes so. He hopes they can get past whatever awkwardness is still hanging over them, because he really, really hates it. He doesn't like fighting with Hinata for real, but he likes whatever they are doing now even less. Not fighting, not arguing, just not saying anything at all.

"Oookaaaay," Natsu says heavily. "Bye, Tobio-nii—"

"Oh, wait, Natsu," Tobio starts to say, pausing. He shouldn't ask… he shouldn't, it's none of his business, he—"Did you ever get your clothes back that ended up here by accident?"

"Huuuh?" asks the very confused voice.

"Your, um… I think Hinata found one of your skirts, but I haven't seen him—" He stops just short of revealing the other boy has been wearing it. "I thought he must have sent it back." He hasn't seen Hinata wearing it for the past couple of weeks, so it's a fair question.

"What'd it look like?"

"Umm," Tobio considers, trying to act like he doesn't have every seam of the thing etched into his memory. "Pink, I think? With polka dots…"

Natsu makes a noise. "Pink?! I don't even like pink!"

Tobio freezes. "What?"

"I like yellow!" Natsu shouts, as if the very thought of other colors offends her. "I don't wear pink, Tobio-nii."

"But..." Tobio clutches the phone so hard it hurts his hand. "He said you had so many pink ones you wouldn't notice."

"Blehhh," Natsu scoffs. "I can't even wear pink. It makes my hair look even more orange!"

It is hard to breathe. What is going on, Tobio wonders. Absently he says, "Your hair is nice."

"You're just saying that cuz I'm a girl."

"No," Tobio tells her. "Hina—Shouyou's hair is nice, too… Natsu, I have to go, okay? Tell your mom I said hi."

"Fiiiine," she says, seeming appeased.

He's too stunned to actually hang up—it's the dial-tone that snaps him out of his daze as he stands there in the middle of the room, staring into space. Slowly, he lowers the phone away from his face.

He turns and bolts for their bedroom, slamming through the door and spying Hinata's laptop on his messy desk. He doesn't really think about the invasion of privacy when he opens it—he should, but he doesn't. Hinata doesn't even have a password, which isn't surprising, considering how he is, but maybe it also says something about how he thinks of Tobio. Doesn't matter, Tobio isn't concerned.

He pulls up the web browser, clicking through to Hinata's history. Into the search bar he types two words: "pink skirt".

The browser history filters down the results—and Tobio sits back heavily in the chair, because that says it all. There are results. There are not that many results, but the fact that there are any at all—that Hinata was searching for this—can only mean one thing.

The skirt isn't—was never—Natsu's.

He sees it, the exact item, on the web page result for some store he doesn't recognize the name of, but he doesn't even need to look at it closely because he knows Hinata bought the thing himself. Maybe Tobio is just stupid, there's no way a skirt that fit middle-schooler Natsu would also fit on a freshman college kid, no matter how tiny he is, but how the hell was Tobio supposed to jump to that conclusion?

Hinata lied to him. He bought the skirt himself, so he must have liked it, must have worn it deliberately that very first time Tobio had walked in on him. Why hadn't he just… said something? Was he afraid Tobio would think it was weird, would judge him?

That kind of hurts. The only thing Tobio had ever judged him for was the way he used to spike—and that's because Tobio knew he could be better.

Maybe they aren't quite at the level of trust Tobio had always assumed they had earned, years ago, way back in high school. After all, whatever the hell Tobio had put his foot in the day he had stupidly tried to defend Hinata's honor, or whatever, has made Hinata not even want to take their first trip back home together anymore.

There's a bang as the front door opens and slams shut, but Tobio doesn't move, doesn't budge from where he's sitting in Hinata's chair, with Hinata's laptop open in front of him, with Hinata's telling search history sitting right there. He hears keys jangling, footsteps bouncing, the bedroom door opens.

"Oh, hey!" Hinata says. "What are you doing over there?"

Tobio turns in the chair to stare as Hinata shrugs off his backpack. He doesn't say a word.

"Did something happen to your computer?" Hinata asks, oblivious. He doesn't seem at all bothered that Tobio is using his laptop without asking.

"No," Tobio says. "Something's up with yours though."

"What?!" Hinata yelps. "What did you do to it—" He storms over, and Tobio watches as the fury on his face melts to bewilderment, then shock, and then… "Kageyama…" he says, voice tiny.

"What is this?" Tobio asks, equally quiet.

"I—it's not—" Hinata shakes his head, voice still soft, panicky.

"Why did you lie to me?" Tobio presses him.

"I didn't—" Hinata says, sounding desperate. "I was just—I was going to get her another one—"

"The fuck you were," Tobio interjects. "This is from months ago."

Hinata open and closes his mouth several times, like he wants words to come out, or perhaps like he's trying to get enough air. Whatever he's doing, it's not working. Finally, he gasps out, "I'm so sorry!"

Tobio blinks. "What the hell are you sorry for?"

"I don't know!" Hinata says. "You just seem really pissed off!"

"Since when does my being pissed off ever make you feel sorry about anything?" Tobio demands, because that's maybe weirder than anything else that has happened in the past, oh, two months.

"Since—now!" Hinata shouts, fists balling at his sides. "Since I screwed up everything!"

"What the hell did you screw up?!" Tobio wants to know, because damned if he has a clue. He gets that he's not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he feels like he's stopped understanding literally everything ever since they moved in together.

"Us!" Hinata is yelling, his eyes shut tight. "This! Our… partnership!"

"Fuck our partnership!" Tobio shouts, shooting out of the chair so fast he almost falls over. Hinata takes a step back, looking like a puppy that's been kicked. Tobio's whole chest hurts.

But he's so, so tired. This is not what he wants. He doesn't want a partnership, god dammit. Not the way Hinata means. He doesn't know why he feels like giving in now, giving up now, after all this time. Maybe it was the worst possible idea from the start, this living together thing, with all that entails. Their partnership, it's hard to think of it that way, when Tobio comes home every day to smiling brown eyes, when he walks in the door to the sound of happy laughter, when living together actually means sharing his life with Hinata, and he wakes up every morning and stares at Hinata's sleeping face, and everything he wants is only as far away as one twin bed over and he still—can't—have it.

Hinata is babbling something quietly under his breath, and Tobio has to force himself to calm down to hear it. "I screwed up, I thought I could figure it out this way, but—it didn't work and I'm sorry, and we can just forget all of it, if you want, I'll just stop. I'll just stop trying to—"

"I can't understand you when you mumble," Tobio snaps, angrily, he's mad at everything, and Hinata jumps and straightens up.

"I'll just stop trying to find out if you like me!" the smaller boy says shrilly.

They stare at each other. Like a cartoon, a patch of red begins to spread, creeping out from underneath Hinata's collar, up his neck, over his chin and across his cheeks, until all of him is just a few shades shy of his hair.

"What," Tobio says. But he knows he didn't misunderstand Hinata. He doesn't know whether to be horrified, or shocked, or even darkly amused at the frankly stupid lengths the other boy has gone to, to discover his little secret. He supposes it's his own fault, for acting so strange around someone as idiotic as Hinata. So he settles on no emotions, whatsoever, at all. "What the hell does that mean?" he asks, voice blunt and blank.

"It means… exactly what it sounds like," Hinata says, deflating. "I thought maybe—it's just that sometimes it really seemed like you might—but I just didn't know how to ask, and if you didn't, you know how you get, you're so awkward—"

"I'm not awkward," Tobio says, ruffling himself up, and Hinata gives him the most scathing glance he's ever been on the receiving end of, and he went to middle school with Oikawa Tooru, and high school with Tsukishima, so that's saying something. "You could have just said something," he settles on saying, lamely.

"Could I have, Kageyama?" Hinata asks.

Tobio wants to say yes. He wants to, but he finds himself unable. Because if Hinata had asked him—just come right out and asked him this relationship altering—no, life altering question, because Hinata is his—oh, god, end him now—

Because Hinata is his life, and if Hinata had asked, he'd have carried this secret to the grave rather than have to give up all they've built over the years, just because he can't wad up all his overflowing, stupid, sappy emotions.

And he knows his silence is giving him away. He knows, as Hinata stands there, first exasperated, then shrewd, and then finally understanding, that it's over, his number is finally up. What little luck he has been granted, falling for someone who is at least as dense as he is, has finally run out.

He can't look at Hinata, not just yet, and so he shifts his gaze around, awkward, just like Hinata said he was. His eyes fall on the laptop. And the stupid image of that stupid skirt. The one that started this entire snowballing situation, the one that got him into this mess in the first place.

"What was the point," he spits out. "Why bother lying to me about it? What was even the point of getting that stupid fucking skirt?"

"Because I wanted you to say something!" Hinata yells at him in frustration. "I thought if I did something different—"

"Hinata, who, in a million years, could have known that?" Tobio explodes at him. "That's like trying to find out what my favorite color is by punching me in the face." And that's what it had felt like, the whole time, Hinata trying to find out the one thing he buried down the deepest by shoving all the things he couldn't have right under his nose. The anger he has gotten so much better at keeping under control boils over. "Trust me, you don't have to worry about me liking you. You're such a moron, sometimes." Hinata is stupid, his plan was utterly dumb, but Tobio is dumber, way dumber.

And he feels like the dumbest person to have ever lived at the way Hinata's head snaps back at the bitterness in his voice when Tobio calls him names, nothing like their usual hot air fighting, because Tobio isn't feeling it, they both really are stupid, and he can't stand it.

"And if you want to know how I felt about the skirt," he finds himself saying, like the final nail in the coffin—he doesn't know what he's trying to salvage, maybe some semblance of his pride? Maybe if he's just as mean as possible, Hinata will really think that he has no feelings for him, whatsoever, and this will just be another one of their blow ups, and then they'll go back to the way they were. That's all he wants. He doesn't need more, he swears he doesn't, he just wants to go back to Hinata talking through every movie they watch and not skipping out on weekends to go back home without saying a word.

And so he says, "I hated it. It just looks weird on you, sorry."

Hinata stares at him for a moment longer. Then he says, "Okay, fine."

Tobio raises an eyebrow. "Fine?"

Hinata shrugs. "Yeah, fine, I guess. That's my answer."

"What is?" Tobio asks, wondering if maybe, maybe he dodged the nuke.

"You don't like me," Hinata says. His lips quirk, but he doesn't really look like he wants to laugh. "And you hated the skirt." His voice is calm, nonchalant, and Tobio is struck by how easy that suddenly seemed—until he notices how tightly Hinata's fists are balled, how far the line of his jaw juts out from clenching his teeth.

"Hinata?"

"I just—" Hinata says, and Tobio hears a telltale shiver in his voice that makes his heart want to stop. "I just didn't think it would make you this mad."

He drops his head, but not fast enough for Tobio to miss the start of tears as they spill over, down his cheeks and hanging off the tip of his nose. And that's not right at all, Hinata shouldn't be crying, he should be relieved. Tobio still does not understand what is happening with this conversation.

"Ah—" he says, hesitantly. He miscalculated, overstepped, he's aware enough of the things he says to realize that much, nowadays. "Sorry. That was… I didn't have to be that shitty about it. I was just surprised…"

"Yeah, me too," Hinata says, laughing shakily. He swipes a hand over his face. "That was not how I pictured this moment going, at all."

Tobio rubs a hand over his face. "You were that convinced I liked you?" This is the most embarrassing day of his life.

"No… or yes, I don't know," Hinata admits. "I just really worked myself up into hoping you'd like the skirt. I didn't think you'd end up hating it." He sniffles. "I didn't think you'd end up hating me."

"I don't hate—" Tobio starts to say, reflexively, and then stops. It takes him roughly the better part of two and three-quarter years to figure out what Hinata just told him. "Wait, what? What did you just say?"

Hinata blinks up at him, eyes red. "I didn't think you'd end up hating me?"

"Before that!"

"I didn't think you'd hate the skirt—"

"Before that!" Tobio says, but he actually did hear it, he just didn't process it. "Did you say you were hoping I'd like it?"

"Yeah?" Hinata answers, his face flaming red again. "Why else would I wear it?"

Tobio is struck, for approximately the millionth time in his life, by exactly how difficult communicating with words is. Dimly, he's aware that things have just taken some kind of turn—some sort of swerve into a realm of possibility he had never once considered. But because it seems impossible, he's still left feeling lost.

"You said it was comfortable," he reminds Hinata. Reminds himself, because—because there is another option, here, but he needs to rule out all the others before he allows himself to hope.

Hinata frowns. "I mean… yes, it is, but so are my shorts. I don't wear them nonstop for a month."

Yes, you do, Tobio thinks. Outloud, he asks, "Why were you hoping I'd like it?"

Hinata groans and pulls his sweatshirt over his head in frustration like he's a turtle. "Kageyama! Come on!"

"I don't—"

"Not it," comes Hinata's muffled voice. "Me, stupid. I was hoping you'd like it on me because I like you."

Tobio steps forward and yanks the sweatshirt back down over Hinata's hair. Hinata blinks at him like he's emerging from a cave into sunlight, eyelashes fluttering, and Tobio wheezes at him, "You like me?"

Hinata looks at him like he's crazy, which is justifiable after everything that has just transpired, but somehow, somehow (they are idiots), both of them didn't get it.

"You couldn't just tell me?" Tobio asks, which… what kind of question is that? He knows exactly how paralyzing the thought of confessing to his best friend can be.

Hinata shakes his head wildly. "No, I didn't want—" He drags his hands through his hair until it's a wild mess, and then settles for staring at the ground. "I was—too freaked out, okay! I was scared."

Tobio shakes his head. First off, he can't believe Hinata just admitted to that in front of him, of all people—admitted to being scared.

Second, no, that's just… wrong. Fear isn't a thing Hinata does, not like this. Nerves, anxiety, sure—Hinata is an idiot, gets worked up over the stupidest and littlest things that make no sense to Tobio. But this makes the least amount of sense at all, because, third and most important: no matter how worried Hinata is over something, he's never, ever too scared to try anyway. Hinata Shouyou isn't ever, and hasn't ever, been afraid to go after something he wants, not for as long as Tobio has known him.

He should never have to be.

"Of what?" is all Tobio can think to ask him. "What were you scared of?"

Hinata mumbles something at the floor.

"I can't—"

"You saying no!" Hinata shouts at him. "I was scared you'd say no."

Tobio's heart skips several beats inside his chest. "You thought… I'd say no to you?" he manages to say. "To you?"

"You just did."

"No, no, no," Tobio says. "No—"

"You don't have to keep saying it, I heard you the first time!"

"No!" Tobio yells, and Hinata looks at him like he may be about to hit him, and Tobio thunders at him, "I'm in love with the fucking skirt!" Hinata's face screws up, but now he looks even more like he may be about to hit Tobio, who rapidly amends his botched wording. "Not the skirt. You! Shouyou, I love—"

Hinata launches himself at Tobio, and Tobio sees his life flash before his eyes, and then suddenly there are warm lips against his, and Hinata is kissing him, Hinata has kissed him, he's being kissed by Hinata.

He wraps his arms around the smaller boy, lifts him into the air, and kisses Hinata back.

Tobio drowns in it. He doesn't even realize their noses are in the way and their mouths are misaligned until Hinata traces the outline of his jaw with slender fingers, tilts his face, and slides his lips more firmly over Tobio's. And when he does, when he has the angle figured out right, he hums, right up against Tobio's mouth, fingertips brushing over his skin.

Tobio opens his eyes, has to cross them a bit to see that Hinata's are closed, and his eyelashes are still a bit wet, and there are still tear tracks on his cheeks, but he's smiling.

"Hinata…" he murmurs, without pulling away, and gets shushed.

"Maybe it's better if we just don't talk, for a little while?" Hinata breathes, and he's probably very, very correct, Tobio thinks.

Even though Hinata is tiny, it's hard to keep holding him up, when Tobio's whole body feels so shaky, his knees a little weak. He sets Hinata down while Hinata's hands are in his hair, kiss after kiss following until he's bent at an awkward angle and the smaller boy's feet are back on the ground. Hinata reaches for his hands, next, tugs until they hit the edge of his bed and Hinata sits on it, scooting backward as Tobio climbs in after him on his hands and knees, crawling forward until Hinata's back hits the wall. He draws his knees up to his chest and lets Tobio crowd him in at first, laughing softly as he reaches out to fist his small hands into Tobio's shirt, drawing him closer, their mouths chasing each other's kisses, smiles, breaths.

Then Tobio puts a hand on either of Hinata's knees, an unconscious motion as he tries to steady himself, to get closer—and Hinata falls open for him, knees dropping to the bed as he spreads his legs, inviting Tobio to get between them, wetting his lips with his tongue, looking up at Tobio with his gaze liquid and warm. Tobio freezes.

He's never seen Hinata look like this, not in all the time he's known him. The only magazines they look at are volleyball related, they've never talked about this kind of thing with each other, maybe because they'd both been avoiding it. So Tobio has never known, beyond the half-formed, guilty scenarios he's played out for himself, alone in bed in the dark of his room, what Hinata looks like when he's flushed and needy and wanting.

(Actually, he has—but all those times are within the context of volleyball, and "Toss to me!", and it's just very, very different, when instead of on a court, they're in Hinata's bed, and he can still taste the other boy on his lips.)

Now that he knows, it's making it impossible to think. He stares at Hinata looking up at him and when he opens his mouth it's to find that he was better off staying silent, because he blurts out, "Please put the thing on."

Hinata blinks at him, a little of the undisguised arousal in his eyes fading into confusion. "Huh? Put what on?"

"Um… nevermind," Tobio says quickly. He leans back in, but Hinata puts a hand on his chest.

"Tobio…" he says, and oh, no, his voice is low and quiet and—knowing. Tobio looks at him and gulps. Hinata's eyes are half-lidded, a small smile tugging at his lips as he runs his hand up Tobio's chest and around to grip the back of his neck, fingers curling into his hair. "Put what on?"

Tobio groans and hangs his head in embarrassment. "The skirt."

Hinata's eyes practically sparkle. "I thought you hated it."

"I just told you I didn't," Tobio grumbles. And then, because, yes, he was an enormous asshole, he sighs, wriggling down until he can drop his face to Hinata's shoulder. "Please can you put it on?" he asks. "You looked great in it. Really, really good, and it was driving me crazy and—just—I'm trying to—"

Hinata shoves at his shoulder and Tobio executes a sad little rolling maneuver, but then Hinata is kissing him again, and this is an improvement on the current situation. Tobio is still mainly trying to work out what to do with his lower lip and tongue, and his left nostril seems to want to keep flaring oddly whenever their mouths touch, but, all in all, any physical contact is an improvement over everything and so he falls silent and just lets himself be kissed.

When they pull back, Hinata says, breathlessly, "Okay. But close your eyes."

"Why?" Tobio asks.

Hinata scrunches up his nose. "Because it's gonna be weird if I just drop my shorts and put the skirt back on. That's not, like, romantic."

"Are we being romantic?" Tobio wonders.

"I'm attempting to be, god, you're awful at this." Hinata rolls his eyes, pushing him off so he can climb off the bed and go rooting around through his side of the room, which is a catastrophe. Tobio shifts around, taking Hinata's place against the wall so he can watch as Hinata's search turns up nothing.

"This is why I tell you to tidy up every once in awhile," he says.

"Shut up," Hinata responds. "I remember where I put things, unlike you."

"Sure about that?" he asks, but Hinata straightens up triumphantly at that moment, yelling, "Ha!", with the skirt clutched in his fist. Tobio slow claps.

"I told you to close your eyes," the other boy orders.

Tobio rolls them first, but complies. "You weren't changing yet."

"Well, I'm changing now," Hinata says, and Tobio can hear the sounds of thumping about. Not for the first time, he wonders why Hinata can't just change clothes like a normal person—it always sounds like he's getting into a fist fight with someone. There is a loud bang that is probably Hinata's foot slamming into the floor as he shucks off his shorts. "No peeking!"

"I'm not," Tobio reassures him, as he squints his eyes open through his lashes just the barest amount.

Mistake. His view of the room is shaky and blurry as he tries to make it seem like he still has his eyes closed, but he can make out Hinata standing there, bending to step into the skirt as he pulls it up his bare legs and onto his hips. He wears the tiniest briefs (both because he is the tiniest, and because he just inexplicably likes some extremely miniscule, figure hugging brand) and the outline of his ass is clearly, clearly visible, small and round. The way the skirt sort of… pops over it is a thing of beauty.

So that's all very well, and good, and Tobio is getting very excited, and then Hinata bites his lip, before reaching up and under the skirt to pull the briefs off entirely with one quick motion, stepping out of them to kick them out of the way.

Tobio squeezes his eyes shut again, because that was too much, as soon as Hinata comes anywhere near him he's going to realize that he looked, because Tobio is totally hard, but then soft footsteps are padding back toward the bed, and then the mattress indents next to him, and a soft voice says in his ear, "You can look now."

Tobio shivers all over, and opens his eyes.

Hinata is sitting on his knees next to him, fiddling with the hem of the skirt, suddenly self-conscious. Maybe not suddenly. Tobio knows what he has on (doesn't have on) under the soft pink folds of the fabric, and finds himself unsure of what to do with his hands, or his mouth, or the obvious tent in his pants. He can't even look down at the skirt, where Hinata's small, sure hands twist into the fabric, where the edge of the pink hem stops and exposes pale, soft thighs, where Tobio wants to map the planes of his skin with gentle, attentive touches.

His mouth feels dry and his voice is hoarse when he says, "Yeah. I don't hate it."

Hinata wrinkles his nose up, before finally meeting his eyes. "You're so confusing."

Tobio sits forward, until he can feel Hinata's breath puffing warm against his cheek. "I know."

He closes the tiny gap between them, intent on finding ways to say without words what he should have told Hinata months (years) ago.

He likes to think that, despite how incredibly awful they are at talking about their feelings, the times they really connect make up for all of that. They have never been good with words, but they are monsters on the court thanks to their reflexes, the way their playstyles mold to each other, the overwhelming excess of their passion.

All the things they share between them that never need to be spoken out loud.

Hinata meets him, lips pressing hard this time, bold and insistent. His mouth falls open, and Tobio doesn't think, he just reacts, finally figuring out what the hell to do with his tongue (maybe?) as he slips it past Hinata's lips, into the heat inside him. Hinata gasps and flings his hands up to hold Tobio's face right where it is, and then there is an answering slide of tongue against his own, slick and warm, tip flicking against the roof of his mouth. When he sucks on Hinata's tongue, the other boy's fingers tighten on his cheeks, his breath coming faster, harder.

I'm sorry I was an idiot, is what Tobio is trying to say, leaning into the kiss, letting Hinata have his fill. Hinata pulls back in response, brushes his lips once, twice over Tobio's, before running his tongue over Tobio's bottom lip, soft and slow, and Tobio knows he's been forgiven.

He brushes one hand over the curve of Hinata's back, tilted up as he is to hang onto Tobio, and Hinata moves without needing more prompting, swinging one leg over his lap to straddle him. Tobio gets hot all over at the thought of what's (not) under Hinata's skirt, at how Hinata presses his body close like he knows exactly what he's doing, like they've done this a million times. He's not sure what's more startling—that Hinata fits against him like perfection, or that neither of them is surprised about this, at how they both melt into another kiss, Tobio leaning back against the wall with Hinata pressed to his chest, warm and relaxed. It is like they've done this a million times, he realizes, all while everything feels so new. He gets daring, sliding his hand under Hinata's layers of sweater and t-shirt, running his palm up his back—and then back down, dipping low, pulling Hinata closer, drawing him in tight.

I don't want to let you go, is what he means, a realization he has now with clarity. He shifts against Hinata, a helplessly happy press of his hips upward into Hinata's warmth. The smaller boy breaks the kiss with a gasp, his hands dropping from Tobio's face to his shoulders, and Tobio stares, transfixed by the smooth line of Hinata's throat when he tips his head back, eyes shut and teeth biting into his bottom lip. His fingers dig into Tobio's muscles, and Tobio knows he doesn't have to let go, not now or ever.

He tilts his head, presses his lips to Hinata's neck, and then gets the shock of his life when Hinata rolls his hips down at the contact, hard and rhythmic and intoxicating. Tobio can feel him through his pants, of course he can, because Hinata's not wearing anything except for that wonderful little skirt, and his legs are spread across Tobio's lap—and holy fuck, Tobio processes fully, for the first time, that Hinata is grinding his bare cock against Tobio's hard-on.

Before he realizes what he's doing, he has his arms around Hinata's waist, and he's toppling them over, flipping their positions so that Hinata is under him on the bed, caged in between his arms, so Tobio can pin him and kiss him breathless, senseless. And he can put his hands where he wants them, one on Hinata's face, brushing the soft, soft skin of his cheek, and the other, almost like it doesn't belong to him, seizing the opportunity, pulling one of Hinata's legs up to wrap around his waist, fingers pressing firmly into the soft flesh high up on the backs of his thighs, where he knows it is bare and exposed. Hinata squeaks, and Tobio pulls back enough to look into his eyes.

I'll stop whenever you tell me, is what his pause, his restraint even when he's long past the point of breaking, tells Hinata, and Hinata reaches up and wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him down on top of his thin frame, and Tobio knows he means, Don't.

Tobio is gentle when he lowers himself fully, conscious of how much larger he is than Hinata. It's the smaller boy who is rough, thin hands sliding up the back of Tobio's t-shirt to make sure he is close, the length of their bodies flush together. His touch wanders, explores, over shoulders and then sliding around to his chest, the pads of his fingers brushing over Tobio's nipples, making Tobio's hips jerk down as he groans into Hinata's mouth. The other boy's fingers still, for just a moment, and then suddenly he's rubbing them, and it's so shocking and so good that Tobio bites Hinata's bottom lip, on accident, and Hinata keens and rocks his hips up into Tobio's. And then they can't stop, they grind against one other desperately, gasping at the feel of each other.

"Need—more—" Hinata gasps, hands roaming down, and Tobio lifts his hips up for just a moment, enough to allow space for Hinata to reach in between them. He feels hands, Hinata, brushing over his cock through his pants, and he can't even handle that, has to drop his head down and hide his burning face in the crook of Hinata's shoulder. But then, then Hinata is dragging down the zip, pushing at the waistband, freeing him. And his name is breathed soft and wanton—Tobio—and then Hinata's hands fist in the back of his shirt, gripping for purchase as he slides his cock against Tobio's, hot and smooth and hard, and Tobio is gone.

He chokes into Hinata's neck, all the response he can manage, as Hinata locks their bodies in place and rocks them both together, slow and steady, pushing Tobio further and further into some kind of hypnotic frenzy, where his mind is white and numb but his body is burning and alive and hypersensitive to every slide of his skin over Hinata's, every whisper and gasp and moan that shivers from Hinata's mouth. He flutters his fingers over the back of Hinata's thigh, pulling him up a tiny bit to feel the warm curve of his ass, how it fits perfectly into his hand. The skirt has crumpled up onto Hinata's stomach, pointless, leaving him naked from the waist down, perfect for the bare feel of skin against skin and the heat overtaking Tobio, threatening to overflow at any second.

"This is so good," Hinata babbles, clinging to him tight. "I love this. Oh, god—"

Tobio turns his head just slightly so he can press his lips to Hinata's sweaty, burning skin, tries to say something meaningful, and utterly fails, can only say, over and over, in no particular order, yes, fuck, Shouyou, and finally, "I think I'm going to—"

"—wanna wear this—" Hinata says, voice thin and high, "—first time you're inside me—"

Tobio isn't sure what does it—the realization that there will be a next time, that this will happen again; or the thought of actually being inside Hinata, all that tight heat and desire; or maybe he's just too close already, feeling too impossibly good. Maybe it's all three, but he comes with a low cry, face buried in Hinata's neck, fingers tightening where they grip hard into Hinata's smooth, soft skin.

"Did you just—" Hinata whimpers, and Tobio nods weakly as he gives a few last, shallow thrusts, making an absolute mess between their bodies. Hinata's hold on him suddenly becomes crushingly tight as he moans, the sound splintering into a helpless, shuddering sob. He arcs his back, chest pressing up to Tobio's, hips coming up off the bed with the force of his orgasm. Tobio manages to lift his head to watch, memorizing the way Hinata's forehead and eyebrows scrunch up with the pleasure of his release. He looks amazing, comes so hard his eyes water, eyes shut tight as his tears spill over, cock pressing up against Tobio's stomach. Tobio brushes his lips over the tear tracks on his face.

"M'not crying," Hinata informs him as soon as his body finally relaxes back into the sheets, his vice-like grip on Tobio's shirt loosening. "Just felt super good…"

"Yeah," Tobio mumbles into his shoulder. "So good you cried. We weren't even actually—"

"Okay, I know! I just shut my eyes too tight, it happens," the redhead insists. "Like when you yawn really hard."

"You're so full of shit."

"Not as much as you," Hinata says, rolling into his side and nuzzling up against him.

Tobio stares down at him, momentarily stunned. Carefully, he folds his arms around Hinata, and the smaller boy inelegantly throws one of his bare legs over Tobio's own in response, bumping his forehead into Tobio's chest. It's his utter lack of grace that seals the deal—this isn't a dream, that all just happened, this is Hinata, really and truly, lying in his arms.

"Are you going home this weekend?" Tobio asks him softly.

Hinata hums. "Yeah, I think so. Want to come with?"

"Yeah," Tobio says. "Yeah, if that's cool."

"Of course it's cool, stupid," Hinata mumbles. He sounds very sleepy.

Tobio pulls him closer. "We're gonna have to figure out how to tell your family, I guess…"

"What, about us?" Hinata scoffs. "They won't care. Natsu will be jealous, though."

"Of me?"

"No, me," Hinata burrows into him, maybe slightly possessive. "She has, like, the biggest crush on you. You didn't know?"

"This may come as a shock," Tobio says flatly, "but I am not the best at knowing when someone likes me."

Hinata laughs so hard he cries, again, and Tobio puts his face in his mess of soft red hair, and grins. When his laughter has finally died down, Tobio kisses his forehead, and says, "That's not what I meant, though."

Hinata pulls back to look at him. "What did you mean?"

"Well," Tobio says, very serious. "Have you confessed to them that your favorite color is pink, yet? Because even Natsu knows that it really doesn't go with your hair—"

"Shut UP, Kageyama," Hinata bellows, and Tobio ends up flat on his ass on the wood floor, and has to beg Hinata to let him back into the bed.

If they can figure out a way to push the beds together, Tobio muses, once he has adequately pacified Hinata with kisses, this whole roommate deal may turn out to have been a pretty okay idea, after all.