Work Text:
When Coach Yamiji announced a "bonding retreat," most envisioned a nice cabin with central heating. Instead, they were deep in the Saitama woods, surrounded by the pine, damp earth, and the pheromones of teenage athletes. The tent assignments had been a nightmare. But between Bokuto’s accidental destruction of a four-person tent and a miscount in the rental gear, the math simply stopped adding up.
"Okay, listen up!" Kaori called out, checking her clipboard. "Everyone is settled except for two. Since the Omega-only tent is full and the Alpha-Beta overflow is packed... Washio-san and Konoha-san, you’re in the two-man tent by the creek."
Silence
Konoha felt the tips of his ears turn a violent shade of crimson. He was an Omega who had spent three years desperately trying to hide his "crush" on the team’s most stoic Alpha. Washio, meanwhile, stared at the small nylon tent as he imagined himself and Washio in there. "I-Is there... no other space?" Konoha managed to let out the question out of his embarrassment.
"Unless you want to sleep in the equipment van," Kaori said, already walking away. The tent was what the catalog called a "cozy two-person." In reality, it was a nylon coffin. "I’ll put my sleeping bag on the left," Washio said. "Sure. Fine. Whatever," Konoha muttered, ducking inside.
The struggle has just begun. Every time Konoha reached for his backpack, his elbow grazed Washio’s ribs. When Washio turned to unroll his mat, his broad shoulders brushed against Konoha’s chest. The air inside was quickly becoming saturated with their scents. "Sorry," Washio grunted as his knee knocked into Konoha’s thigh for the third time.
"It’s fine! It’s just... so cramped," Konoha huffed, his face inches from Washio's neck. He could smell the Alpha's scent clearly now, and it was making his head swim. The pining he suppressed for years was clawing at his throat. Washio froze. He was holding a tent stake, his large hand hovering over Konoha’s. The Alpha’s eyes, usually so unreadable, were fixed on Konoha’s mouth. "Konoha. You’re scenting the whole tent." Konoha gasped, his heart hammering against his ribs. "I—it’s a cramped space. It’s not on purpose."
"Isn't it?" Washio’s didn't move away. In fact, he leaned in, the heat from his body radiating through his hiking gear. "Because if you don't stop, I'm going to assume you’re doing it for a reason." The unfinished feeling between them, the stealing glances during practice, the way Washio always made sure Konoha had water, the way Konoha always teased Washio just to see a reaction, it all converged in that small tent.
"And what if I am?" Konoha challenged, his bravado returning even as his hands trembled. "What are you going to do about it, Washio?" Washio didn't say a word. He simply reached out, his hand cupping Konoha’s jaw, his thumb brushing over the Omega’s flushed cheekbone. Their faces are getting closer and closer but…
"Konoha-san, Washio-san... Dinner’s ready. We’re starting the curry."
Akaashi’s voice was calm, but it carried perfectly through the thin nylon walls. Startled by Akaashi’s voice, Washio jerked his head back, forgetting that they were in a small tent.
THWACK.
"Ow—" Washio groaned, his forehead colliding hard with the carbon-fiber tent pole. Konoha let out a stifled yelp, his hands flying up to catch Washio’s shoulders as the Alpha recoiled from the impact. "God, Washio! Are you okay? You’re going to knock the whole thing down!" Washio sat there, blinking stars out of his eyes, his hand pressed to a rapidly reddening spot on his hairline. The romantic tension from seconds ago has evaporated, they’re trying to look "normal" while trapped in a bag. "I'm fine," Washio said, his voice slightly dazed. "Just... the ceiling is lower than I thought."
"Everything is lower than you thought! You're a giant!" Konoha hissed, smoothing down his hair and checking his scent. "Akaashi? Yeah! We’re—we’re coming! Just... organizing the sleeping bags!"
Outside, Akaashi Keiji stood with a ladle in hand, his expression unreadable. However, as the tent zipper finally buzzed open, his eyes narrowed slightly. Washio emerged first, looking unusually disheveled, rubbing a prominent bump on his forehead. Then, Konoha followed, his face a shade of red, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
"The tent pole," Washio explained bluntly, gesturing to his head. Akaashi looked at Washio’s forehead, then at Konoha’s suspiciously bright face, and then at the way the two of them were standing just a little bit closer to each other than usual. "I see," Akaashi said, his tone dry. "The tent is quite small for an Alpha of your stature, Washio-san. I’ll tell the managers to bring some ice pack to the campfire."
---
They sat on logs around the roaring fire, Bokuto was shouting about how the curry was "way better than last year".The curry was steaming in their plastic bowls, but neither of them was tasting a single bite. Konoha was trying to eat, but his hand kept shaking. Konoha hunched over his meal, but his eyes kept sliding to the right. He caught Washio’s profile, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his brows were furrowed as he nursed the bump on his head.
Their eyes met for a split second. Konoha’s gaze was a silent scream. Look at me properly and tell me you didn’t feel that. Tell me you aren't the reason I've been a mess for three years. Washio was struggling too, behind those stoic faces. He stared back and that made Konoha’s breath hitch. His eyes were saying If I look at you for one second longer, I’m going to lose my mind. If you knew how much I’ve been holding back, you wouldn't be sitting so comfortably.
Every time Konoha glanced at the red mark on Washio’s head, he felt a surge of guilt mixed with a dizzying memory of how close Washio’s lips had been. The "joke" universe played on them with the tent assignment wasn't over yet. They still had to go back inside and sleep side-by-side once the fire went out. Akaashi simply sipped his tea, watching the two seniors. He saw the way Konoha’s scent was beginning to sweeten again. And then he saw Washio’s knuckles turn white as he gripped his spoon, trying to maintain his "stoic Alpha" persona while his heart was clearly doing laps.
Finally, Washio stood up, his massive frame casting a long shadow over Konoha. "I'm going to wash my bowl," Washio said, his voice a bit rougher than usual. He didn't wait for an answer, but as he passed Konoha, his fingers "accidentally" brushed against the back of Konoha’s neck. It was a claim. A silent marking of intent that sent a jolt of heat straight to Konoha’s core. Konoha jumped slightly, his face glowing brighter than the embers. He scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over his own feet. "I—I have to wash mine too!"
As they hurried away into the darkness toward the washing station, the team fell silent. "So," Bokuto said, tilting his head. "They're definitely going to be loud in that tent later, right?"
"Bokuto-san, please eat your rice," Akaashi sighed, though he didn't disagree.
---
The temperature in the forest had plummeted as midnight approached, the cool mountain air seeping through the thin nylon walls of the tent. Inside, the only sound was the distant rustle of leaves and Washio’s deep breathing. Konoha was miserable. He had curled himself into a tight ball inside his sleeping bag, but the cold was persistent. His teeth were literally chattering. Unable to stop the shivering, Konoha sat up. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself. Konoha looks at Washio sleeps so soundly and looks so warm.
I want to crawl over there. I want to tuck my freezing nose into the crook of his neck. I want those big arms to just... hold me together. But the "Omega" part of his brain was screaming at the "Senior Vice-Captain" part of his brain. It was too scandalous. If he initiated a cuddle and Washio woke up, how would he explain it? “Sorry, I was cold and also I’ve been in love with you since our first practice match?” No. He would rather freeze. Konoha let out a tiny, shaky breath, a puff of white mist appearing in the air. He prepared to lie back down and suffer in silence, but then…
"Konoha."
Washio was awaken, hadn't moved, but his eyes were open watching Konoha. "You're shaking," Washio remarked. "I'm fine," Konoha lied, his voice trembling so hard it gave him away instantly. "Just... go back to sleep, Washio." Instead of listening, Washio unzipped the top of his sleeping bag. He shifted to the side, creating a narrow but clear space in the center of the tent. "Come here," Washio commanded, yet his voice was soft. "The tent is too small for us to be this far apart." Konoha froze. "Washio, we can't... the juniors might—"
"The juniors are asleep," Washio interrupted, his hand reaching out to find Konoha’s freezing fingers. His palm was burning hot. "And I'm cold, too. Help me out." It was a blatant lie—Washio was clearly warm—but it was the perfect excuse Konoha needed to save face. The moment Konoha’s fingers were engulfed by Washio’s warm palm, his biology decided to act faster than his brain. A soft purr started deep in Konoha’s chest. Konoha’s eyes widened, his face heating up so fast. "I—that wasn't—"
"I know what it was," Washio murmured. Washio didn't wait for further excuses. He reached out and pulled Konoha against him, a full-body embrace. Washio’s large arms wrapped around Konoha’s back, tucking the smaller boy’s head right under his chin.
The purring only got louder.
Konoha was mortified, burying his face into Washio’s chest to muffle the sound, but his body was betraying his every secret. He felt safe. The pining that had felt like a hollow ache for years was suddenly being filled by the heartbeat of the Alpha holding him. "You're so loud," Washio whispered, though there was a distinct note of affection and a bit of pride in his voice.
"Shut up," Konoha mumbled into Washio's sweatshirt, though he didn't pull away. Instead, he boldly hooked a leg over Washio’s, seeking every ounce of contact. "It’s your fault for being like a heater." Washio leaned down, his nose brushing against Konoha’s, scenting him deeply.
Washio tightened his grip slightly, his chin resting atop Konoha’s soft hair. He let out a slow exhale that fanned over Konoha’s forehead, his body finally relaxing into the mattress. For a man of few words, this holding Konoha like he was something precious and fragile was the loudest thing he had ever said. Konoha, for his part, stopped fighting the instinct to hide. He let his hands fists in the fabric of Washio’s hoodie.
But then their gaze met again, The space between them had shrunk to nothing. Konoha’s breath hitched, his purr intensifying as he tilted his head back, his eyes locked on Washio’s. The Alpha’s gaze was focused entirely on Konoha’s mouth as he leaned down. Their noses brushed, lips just an inch apart—
ZIIIIIIIP.
The sound of the tent zipper being opened by someone. "I'm so sorry, Konoha-san, but could we switch tents? Bokuto-san won't stop kicking me in his sleep and I—" Akaashi pulled the flap back, his flashlight beam cutting through the darkness. Konoha let out a strangled yelp, shoving himself away from Washio with enough force to nearly flip their shared sleeping bag. Washio, startled out and tried to sit up way too fast.
CRACK.
"AGH!"
For the second time that night, Washio’s forehead made violent contact with the pole of the tent. The impact was louder this time. "Washio!" Konoha cried out, half-scrambling toward the Alpha and half-trying to look like he hadn't just been purring like a kitten in the man's arms. Akaashi stood there, the flashlight held perfectly still. Washio doubled over, clutching his head with both hands, groaning in genuine pain. Then, Konoha looked like he had been caught committing a crime, hair standing up in every direction, face as red as tomato. Moreover the scent inside the tent was undeniably intimate.
Akaashi didn't blink or even look surprised. He just let out a long weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the entire Fukurodani volleyball program. "I see," Akaashi said, his voice as flat as his expression.
"I’m interrupting."
"Akaashi! It’s not—we were just—he was cold!" Konoha shrieked, his voice cracking.
"You were purring, Konoha-san. I could hear it from the creek," Akaashi noted calmly. He began to zip the tent back up from the outside. "I’ll go sleep in the equipment van. Washio-san, please try not to break the tent pole. We have to return that gear on Monday."
---
The next morning, most of the Fukurodani team was still buried in their sleeping bags, but the silence of the forest was now occupied by two people and the rising steam of two tin mugs. They sat on the same log where they ate curry the night before. The tea was hot, bitter, and the only thing keeping their hands from freezing. Konoha blew a puff of steam into the air, his eyes fixed on the swirling liquid. The scandal of the midnight cuddle was still fresh, the memory of Washio’s heartbeat against his ear playing on a loop.
Beside him, Washio looked as stoic as usual. He hadn't said a word since they emerged from their tents. Konoha’s gaze kept flicking to Washio’s hands, then away. I can’t believe I purred. I can’t believe you held me. Are we going to act like it didn't happen, or are you waiting for me to say it first?
Meanwhile, Washio’s gaze stayed forward, but his jaw was set tight. I should have kissed you before Akaashi opened that zipper. I’m an Alpha who can’t even handle a tent pole because you make me lose my mind. Every time their eyes accidentally met, a thousand confessions were lined up behind their teeth—I love you, I’ve always loved you, don’t go—but their own shyness of three years of pining acted like a dam.
"Your head," Konoha finally whispered, his voice cracking slightly in the cold. "Does it still hurt?" Washio turned his head slowly, looking directly into Konoha’s eyes. "No," Washio rumbled. "It was worth the bump." Konoha flushed and looked away, clutching his tea mug until his knuckles turned white. Suddenly, Bokuto’s voice exploded from across the clearing, shattering the fragile bubble. The rest of the world was waking up.
"Hey! ARE YOU GUYS HAVING TEA WITHOUT ME?!"
The two just sigh seeing the loud big owl already waking others just by his voice, but deep in their heart they vowed…
“Maybe next time…”
The end