Archive of Our Own ^beta

Night outs at Crow’s Nest Club are always a staple of Shouyou’s weekend. And this night started no differently than all the other nights before, with his usual partners-in-crime, his roommates, Bokuto and Atsumu in tow.

They intend to go absolutely wild that night (more than usual anyway) to cheer Atsumu up—who was just dumped by his boyfriend of two months—and hopefully to find him some rebound, too, if they’re lucky.

Shouyou has his mind set on this very important mission. No one messes with his friends, especially with matters of the heart. Not that he’s some expert in the field, nor is he prude or naive. He just has yet to discover the kind of romance that makes him want to settle, so to speak. Besides, going on casual dates and having flings aren’t half-bad…

But this night isn’t about him. Atsumu needs to get over that frog-faced jerk who cheated on him. Seriously, cheating on an attractive guy like Atsumu is unfathomable when he’s literally their university’s campus hearthrob and Shouyou is going to absolutely murder that dickhead when he sees him.

The club is packed tonight, bodies swaying in time with the pounding music. Cute guys and girls are everywhere; it wouldn’t be too hard to find someone who can distract Atsumu from his love problem. Shouyou wouldn’t mind catching some for himself if he’s being honest.

The music pulses through the floor, a steady thrum that vibrates in Shouyou’s chest as he and his friends weave through the crowd. He isn't the best dancer by any stretch, certainly not as good as Bokuto who is in an actual dance group, but that doesn’t matter. Not here. In this crowded floor full of gyrating bodies, it’s all about energy, and that’s one thing Shouyou has plenty of.

He spins and twirls around, hips swaying with his arms above his head. Everything is a mix of sound, movement, and heat, and he lets the buzz and vibrancy of the energy consume him, adrenaline and alcohol mixing as it courses through his veins—

“Ow!” Shouyou yelps as he tumbles forward, barely gathering his balance before he face-plants on the sticky floor.

He turns around, ready to give the jerk who bumped into him a piece of his mind, but the vile curses sitting on his tongue tumbles uselessly out of his mouth when he comes face to face with his apparent oppressor.

“Sorry.”

Now, Shouyou has met quite a number of attractive people and is even friends with some of them, so he has this kind of immunity to their effect, but this guy—this man with his glaring, intense blue eyes, his inky black hair, and his imposing, towering stance is a living, breathing proof of the word beautiful .

To say that Shouyou is mesmerized is an understatement.

The beguiling man just stares at him, frowning, lips pursed into a pout. “Are you okay?”

“Fine! I’m super fine, thank you!” Shouyou squeaks out, internally cringing at himself. Fucking get a grip, you idiot! “Totally okay! Must’ve drank too much of this, haha!”

He lifts the cup of cocktail in his hand and gives it a shake, forgetting that it’s almost full as he’s barely taken a sip of the thing.

“Shit!” he curses as cold liquid sloshes out of the cup, with most of it splashing all over his shirt. He lets out another round of awkward, strangled chuckle as he pats himself dry. “Hehe, oops. Clumsy ‘ol me. That’s what my friends call me. Clumsy Shouyou, hehe.”

Oh my god, I want to die.

The guy looks genuinely concerned, though, approaching Shouyou and taking the cup off his hands. “You look drunk. Maybe have a seat for a while?”

“That’s a good idea.”

Elbowing their way out of the center of the dance floor, they stumble out to settle on the high stools on the bar counter.

“Sorry about that. I’m not that lightweight, I promise,” Shouyou says as he uselessly dabs the liquid stain off his yellow shirt. Dammit, this one is new, too.

“If you say so. Here.” Pretty guy offers him a handkerchief and Shouyou takes it with a sheepish smile. Good god, this guy is even more disastrously gorgeous in the light.

“Thanks. Sorry again.”

“I bumped into you. I should be sorry.”  Pretty guy quirks his head to the side in a sort of confused-and-amused-at-the-same-time way. Then he smirks—an absolutely fatal, wickedly sexy smirk, and Shouyou dares to give in to the delusion that this guy, this impossibly beautiful person, is flirting with him.

The guy introduced himself as Kageyama. Fits him. Shouyou supposed, he does have this whole dark and imposing aura that Shouyou didn’t know until now that he’s kind of into. They talk and drink all night, dancing a bit after much coercion from Shouyou as he drags Kageyama back to the crowded, stuffy dance floor. They’re both terrible dancers, but for all that Kageyama is beautiful, he might be even worse than Shouyou. That doesn’t make him any less charming—if anything, it makes him all the more adorable, with the way he grumbles and pouts as Shouyou teases him.

Shouyou arrives home from the club feeling all dazed and moony. It’s been a while since he genuinely enjoyed a night out. He wants to see Kageyama again, immediately, not minding the scoffs of disbelief from his roommates after he shares how his night has been.

“So dude is, as ya described him, ‘ super, duper handsome ,’” Atsumu says, a ghost of a teasing smirk forming.

“Super, duper handsome and guwaah !”

“Right. And he was, by yer very astute observation, flirting with ya.”

“Positive.”

“I think ya had too much tequila, Shouyou-kun.”

“I’m not joking! We talked and danced and laughed at my jokes!”

“We talk and dance and laugh at your jokes all the damn time,” Bokuto chimes in, fresh from the shower. He picks up his phone from the table, possibly texting an update to his boyfriend. “Doesn’t mean we’re flirting with you.”

Atsumu waves a hand at Bokuto, as if he’s presenting irrefutable proof in court. “Exactly. Thank you, Bokkun.”

“Fine! Don’t believe me, whatever,” Shouyou harrumps, stomping to his room.

“Good night, Shouyou-kun! Hope the delusions are gone by morning.”

“Fuck you, guys.”

He could still hear his friends’ hysterical cackling even when he closed his door shut. But he doesn’t dwell on that much. Kageyama was definitely flirting with him, and he is adamant to see him again.

There’s just one teeny, tiny problem: he forgot to ask for his number.

And to make the matter even worse, the guy has no social media, either. Or at least that’s what Shouyou assumes. He spends most of his weeks scouring through the internet but there’s hundreds of ‘Kageyama’ on Instagram and on any other social media platform. Kind of his fault for not asking Kageyama’s given name.

But Shouyou is undeterred. He wants to meet Kageyama again, so he goes to the same club every night, hoping to meet him there.

He’s getting pretty frustrated when his search fails for four nights in a row, until he finally spots that unmistakable raven hair on Friday night.

He corners him like a hungry predatory animal and with his impatience and eagerness stewing together all week, he forgoes the pleasantries and goes straight to business.

“Give me your number,” he demands, leaning up to Kageyama and invading his space.

Kageyama just stares at him like Shouyou’s crazy—he probably looks like it—but collects his composure and asks for Shouyou to sit on the table for him, a quieter place on the corner of the club.

“I can’t give you my number,” Kageyama says as soon as they are seated.

“Why?”

“I—It’s complicated.”

Shouyou frowns, impatience boiling over. “No, it’s not. I know you like me, too, Kageyama. I’m not stupid.”

“You don’t understand,” Kageyama sighs, shaking his head. It’s not exactly a rejection, but it doesn’t fend off the hurt pinching within Shouyou’s chest. He ignores it.

“Then make me understand! You can’t—you can’t just bait me and make me feel things then say it’s complicated when it’s really not! I like you and you like me, it’s simple as that!”

His voice rises above the pounding music in the club, garnering the attention of a few patrons near their table. He doesn’t care; he’s far too worked up to give a shit.

For a minute, he thinks he got through whatever it Kageyama is so hung up about. He can see it in his beautiful face—the way his blue eyes stares wistfully at Shouyou, the way he chews on his lips, the way he so very clearly wants Shouyou, too. And it’s so, so easy to give him that, for both of their desires to be fulfilled, simple and easy—

“No, it’s not. I wish it were.”

The pinching within Shouyou’s chest quickly evolves into a sucker punch right into his gut. He hasn’t felt this in a while and fuck , rejection hurts like a bitch. It jolts his very soul for a second, staggering, but another emotion comes to the rescue.

“So that’s it? You’re really just gonna leave me hanging like this? You’re a fucking asshole,” he spats, allowing red, hot anger to fill him, if only to mask the pain and guard his heart.

Kageyama winces. Good, he should feel bad. “Don’t come here anymore, Hinata. It’s for your own good.”

“And now you’re telling me what to do? You really have no shame—”

The rest of Shouyou’s words are swallowed by Kageyama’s lips on him, his anger quickly melting at the taste of him, at the way his lips nips and pulls at his, at his tongue sliding against him obscenely. He feels like he’s being devoured and he lets himself be overwhelmed as Kageyama continues kissing him, stuffing his hand on Shouyou’s hair to angle him better and hold him in place.

But it ends all too soon, with Kageyama breaking the kiss in haste, leaving a trail of saliva dripping on Shouyou’s still puckered lips.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I just—Hinata—”

Now it’s Shouyou’s turn to shut this asshole up as he pounces on him—literally, with him clambering on Kageyama’s lap as he crashes their lips together.

No words are exchanged after that, only letting their bodies communicate. Shouyou doesn’t even remember how they got in the thankfully empty bathroom; not that he really cares. His thoughts are muddled with sheer pleasure as he gets taken on the countertop, legs hooked around Kageyama’s slim waist, fingers marring the other man’s back trying to hold on for dear life while he gets fucked to oblivion.

He feels so dirty, being debauched like this in public, with his moans and the force of Kageyama pounding into him just barely getting drowned by the loud music. But the thought is fleeting, as he gets taken again and again, surrendering to carnal attraction and frustration. If this is the last time he’s going to meet Kageyama, he might as well milk it for all its worth.

They’re silent as they clean up and fix themselves up, the atmosphere suddenly tense with awkwardness.

Shouyou clears his throat, pulling at the hem of his rumpled shirt. “So…”

“I’m sorry. You can forget this ever happened.”

Shock renders Shouyou frozen, but then the burn of anger thaws him and he’s about ready to explode when Kageyama suddenly wraps his arms around Shouyou tightly as he tucks his head on Shouyou’s shoulder.

“Or…allow me to be selfish and meet me here every Friday night,” Kageyama murmurs on the crook of his neck, his warm breath tickling his neck.

“And what? Be your booty call?”

“No. We don’t—we don’t have to do anything.” Gently, Kageyama entangles himself from Shouyou, but his hands remain resting on Shouyou’s waist, long fingers splayed over his back and it makes it hard to concentrate on what Kageyama is saying. “We can just talk, or dance. Like we did last time.”

“And what makes you think I’d agree to that?”

“Because you like me,” Kageyama says simply, like it is the most obvious thing.

Shouyou has never felt more vulnerable and naked, with his feelings wielded like some sort of weapon against him. How dare—

“And I like you, too.”

And that just now delivers the fatal blow.

Maybe Shouyou has completely lost his mind. Or maybe the sex is just that damn good that he finds himself agreeing to Kageyama's crazy offer.

Shouyou's next few weeks now highlight his rendezvous with Kageyama. The other man stays true to his word and not once does he initiate anything, although Shouyou is pretty sure he would succumb to it given the opportunity.

All they do is talk and dance, and even that is enough to render Shouyou high-strung. He likes Kageyama so much to the point that it scares him. He never felt like this with anyone, ever, and that's saying a lot considering he's been around. There's just this unexplainable connection between them, how they play off with each other so well, with the banters, the teasing, and the subtle touches that leave Shouyou wanting for more. A few kisses are shared, but nothing more than an innocent peck or smack, Kageyama pressing on the break when things get a bit too heated.

But for all the conversations he has exchanged with Kageyama, Shouyou still knows so little about him. He's had his fair share of boys playing into the dark, mysterious type, which becomes cringe-y after a while, but he doesn't get the same feeling with Kageyama.

It's not an act—Kageyama is mysterious.

A mysterious man Shouyou is slowly falling for.

It's two months of this whole set-up when Shouyou decides to ask Kageyama out, officially. He psychs himself up all week, ignoring his friends telling him he's doing something rash again.

"Shou-kun, ya barely know the man. Ya said it yerself," Atsumu-san tells him, not even looking up from his phone. He has that stupid, giddy smile on his face, always a tell-tale sign he’s chatting away with his new boyfriend.

"I don't think you have the credibility to judge me when you started dating Sakusa-san after a one-night stand," Shouyou counters with a roll of his eyes.

"It was love at first sight!"

"Whatever. I'm doing this."

"Bokkun, slap some sense into this idiot, will ya?"

"Wear protection!"

"I swear to god..."

Shouyou leaves his friends as they launch into another argument. It doesn't matter anyway if they approve or not; he's doing this.

He waits at their little corner in the bar, nervously fidgeting in the cushioned seat and taking another long sip from his drink.

Kageyama is running late. He's usually the first one to arrive, smirking as if he's won something. Now this unprecedented tardiness is making Shouyou more anxious, his initial boldness that he worked up all week quickly fading.

With a sigh, he stands up to make another visit to the restroom, bladder full again with how much he drank.

He's exiting the restroom when he hears hushed voices across the hall. It's usually dark beyond the entrance to the restroom, but now the hallway is faintly lit, emanating from a door opened ajar.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Shouyou slowly approaches the sliver of light. Maybe it's a VIP section, the kind where patrons can order "special services," so to speak. Maybe he can get one for him and Kageyama, if things go well tonight—

Shouyou isn't quite sure what to make of what he sees beyond the small slit of the ajar door. There's money—piles and stacks of them, and he can discern the whirring sound of a money counter somewhere. Among the mountains of cash, there are some kind of wrapped packages, a couple of bags and satchels, and even suitcases scattered all around. There are people inside, too, three, by Shouyou's count. He can't see their faces; two of the men has their backs to the door, and the other one's face is blocked by another and all Shouyou can see of him is one of his extended arms, a large tattoo emblazoned prominently on his forearm.

Then one of the men shifts, and for a fraction of a second, Shouyou meets the gaze of the tattoo guy.

Clasping a hand over his mouth, he backs away as far as his legs can carry him, powering through the ice-cold shiver that's gotten hold of him.

When he sees Kageyama sitting at their table, he almost cries, relief washing over him.

"Kageya—"

His mouth goes dry as that paralyzing cold returns ten-fold when Kageyama greets him with a gun pointed at his face.

"Duck!"

Shouyou does, instincts taking over at Kageyama's commanding voice. He slumps down on the sticky floor of the club, arms coming up to cover his head as he hears gunshots, followed immediately by screams, the floor rattling as pandemonium breaks in the club.

His own scream joins the others when he jolts as he feels a hand wrap around his wrist, dragging him up. Through his blurry vision from the tears he didn;’t even realize started falling, he can make out Kageyama's face, his ever-present frown unmistakable. Yet this one is different; it's not of annoyance or bashful embarrassment. He looks terrified and concerned at the same time.

"Get up, Hinata! Get up!"

Kageyama's voice sounds clouded like he's hearing him underwater. When he doesn't move, Kageyama curses as he forcefully dragged Shouyou off the floor.

"Listen to me, Hinata. Listen! Okay? Stay behind me. We'll get you out of here."

Shouyou nods and that's all Kageyama waits for before he moves forward, gun at the ready as they push their way through the clamoring crowd. Shouyou has to fight through the trembling of his legs to keep up with Kageyama. He lets himself be dragged and pulled, crouching behind overturned chairs and tables as Kageyama shoots at faceless gunmen ahead.

"Shit." Kageyama ducks back to reload. He turns to Shouyou, his blue eyes seemingly glowing in the dark as they roam all over Shouyou’s face and body, frantic. "You okay?"

Kageyama’s bangs are matted against his sweaty forehead, his shirt crumpled and streaked with...is that blood ?

"Are you okay?" Shouyou asks back, a shaky hand reaching out the growing blotch of blood on Kageyama's shoulder.

"It's just a graze. Answer me, Hinata."

It's a complicated question. He is obviously not okay. This was supposed to be his usual Friday night, meeting up with an enigmatic, mysterious guy whose company he enjoys too much. Now...now Shouyou doesn't know what the hell he has gotten himself into.

"I'm...I'm fine."

Kageyama stares at him for a while, then nods. He looks almost apologetic but with the dimmed lights and the chaos still ringing all around, Shouyou can't be sure. "Good. We're close to the exit. I'll get you out of here, don't worry."

But can I trust you? Shouyou wants to ask, but he has no time to as Kageyama swiftly emerges out from their hiding spot to fire, grabbing Shouyou's arm as they dash across the room.

The exit glows like a beacon of hope just a few meters away and Shouyou sobs in palpable relief. When they burst through the street, he lets himself breathe in the chilly night air, sighing deeply.

He doesn't get to relish freedom a bit longer when he hears another sickening pop of gunshots, and he squeals, fear crawling back as quickly as it has gone.

"This way!" Kageyama tugs him in an alleyway as they run at full speed. Kageyama is fast, but Shouyou is on a track team and he easily keeps up, fighting against the fear claiming paralysis of his limbs.

The narrow alley seems to go on forever and Shouyou's screams are swallowed by the darkness as gunshots rattle from behind them, one dangerously close to hitting his side but misses, the pinging sound hitting something metal like the whisper of death in Shouyou's ears.

Kageyama fires back at their pursuers. A grunt followed by a crashing sound, then silence, except for the stomping noises of their shoes against the pavement as they continue to run.

The glow of street lights greets them as they emerge from the alley. As if on cue, a black sedan screeches to a stop in front of them.  The driver's window slides down, revealing a blonde guy in glasses. He frowns at Shouyou.

"Who is this?"

"Get us out of here first, Tsukishima."

Kageyama opens the backseat door and hauls Shouyou inside, swiftly following him inside.

"Step on it," he says to glasses guy—Tsukishima—who huffs in reply but does as he told. Shouyou is barely able to put the seatbelt on as they snake through the traffic at neck-breaking speed.

"Now do you mind telling me why there's an orange midget in my car?"

The insult jolts Shouyou out from the shock. "Hey!"

"Dial back the snark, Tsukishima and tell me where the first aid kit is first. My shoulder is fucking killing me."

"You got hit? Huh, the King must be losing his touch. It's somewhere there under the seats."

"Shut up. It's just a graze." Kageyama rummages for the kit, immediately opening it when he finds it. He unbuttons his shirt, enough to expose his wounded shoulder. Shouyou blanches at the sight of dried-up blood all over Kageyama's left side.

"Do-Do you need help?" he offers.

"I'm fine." Kageyama winces as he pours alcohol all over his shoulder, using a pack of gauze to clean the blood off. "I doubt you'd be much help. Not when you look like you're about to vomit."

Shouyou has no retort to that. Because it's true. In between the roller coaster ride that is the car they're in and the metallic smell of blood and antiseptic filling the air, it's taking every drop of Shouyou's willpower not to spill his guts all over the carpeted car floor.

But he can't seem to look away as Kageyama patches himself up, movements deliberate and purposeful, as if he's done this before. Maybe he has, judging from the various scars and marks all over his torso, marring his otherwise perfect skin and incredibly cut abdomen.

"Fucking hell, King. Tell me who this is and why he's making moony eyes at you before I crash this car."

Shouyou's cheeks burn, quickly pulling his gaze away from Kageyama. "I-I wasn't!"

He hears Kageyama sigh, staying silent. Shouyou chances a glance at the corner of his eyes. Kageyama has put on a fresh shirt, possibly a size too small with how it hugs over his broad chest and cuffs over his biceps. Shouyou looks away before he gets caught staring again.

"This is Hinata. He's—" There's a very heavy pause; Shouyou can hear his pulse in his temple at the deafening silence. "He's a friend."

"A friend," Tsukishima remarks from the front. "And since when do we bring along 'friends' during an undercover mission?"

"Since they become an important witness.

Okay, this is as far as Shouyou can endure. It's time he demands answers.

"Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?" he interjects. "What mission? What witness?" He turns to Kageyama, trying to pull the answers in his midnight blue eyes. "Who are you? Is your name even Kageyama?"

For a moment, Shouyou can sense Kageyama's hesitation, eyes darting at the front seat as he meets Tsukishima's gaze in the rearview mirror, as if in a silent exchange. Then Kageyama turns to him.

"My name is Kageyama. Kageyama Tobio. I'm an Interpol Agent. We both are. This is Tsukishima Kei, my partner."

"The one with the brains and common sense."

Kageyama throws a sideway glare at the back of the head of the other man before continuing. "We've been investigating a drug ring run by a Russian mafia wanted by Interpol. Igor Osipov. We were undercover to follow up on intel that he was seen in one of his hideouts."

"Crow's Nest?"

Kageyama nods gravelly. "It became one when he bought the establishment. Likely to take advantage of the university nearby to peddle his drugs. We've been on stakeout to gather more intel. And in case he shows up."

"So why am I suddenly dragged into this? How am I a witness? Look, I did see some sketchy stuff back in the bar, but I doubt you haven't known that secret room if you've been undercover all this time. If you didn't, then maybe you're just bad at your jobs."

A snort emanates from the front. "I don't know if I should be angry or impressed," Tsukishima says.

Kageyama ignores his partner. "Yes, we did know about the secret room. On my very first night at the bar, actually."

"Then how am I a witness?"

"Because you saw Osipov's face. Didn't you?"

Shouyou blinks at Kageyama. "You—You don't know what he looks like?"

"Only from secondhand information. The guy is good at hiding, even more at being discreet with his identity. The only thing we have on him is this."

Kageyama pulls up a photo from his phone. It's a picture of a tattooed forearm. The tattoo spans half the length of the limb and at its center is a taut, curved bow, a flaming arrow nocked. The very same one Shouyou saw.

Shouyou swallows through the thick, dry lump on his throat, fingertips going ice-cold. "Y-Yeah. Yeah, I saw that. I saw him."

Kageyama pockets his phone back. "When I saw you coming out from the hallway looking like you've seen a ghost, with a gun pointed at the back of your head, I knew you saw something you shouldn't. Osipov wouldn't compromise everything if you didn't. I saw many drunk people wander in that room and they didn't care then if they saw anything. Because there was nothing important to protect." The solemn look Kageyama gives Shouyou only raises the growing dread in him. "Until you wandered in at the wrong time."

If he isn't seated right now, his knees would've collapsed under him at the weight of the situation he never dreamed of being in. This is complete and utter insanity.

He wraps his arms around his grumbling stomach. It's been years since he's been struck with anxiety pangs, or at least not as worse as it was back in middle school.

"Don't you dare hurl in my car," Tsukishima warns. Then in a less sharp tone, he adds, "We're close, so hold it in until then."

"Where are we going?" Shouyou asks. "Where are you taking me?"

Kageyama rests his hand over Shouyou's, squeezing. It feels warm, and however small, it thaws a fraction of that frigid cold encasing his body. Even though he hasn't decided yet if he's mad at Kageyama. So for now, he welcomes the warmth.

"To a safe house," Kageyama says. 

The "safehouse" is not what Shouyou expected it to be.

He was anticipating some guarded fortress with a hi-tech security detail and a gazillion guards. Instead, Tsukishima brings them to an apartment building smack in the middle of the city.

Oh, maybe they have a penthouse or a secret room with computers and hologram—

Nope, Shouyou is ushered into a random, run-in-the-mill 2DLK unit.

"We have this room ready in case of emergencies," Kageyama says, as if sensing Shouyou's utter bewilderment. "Well, one of many."

"I just thought a safehouse would be more, I don't know, not like this?"

"Kid is expecting some state-of-the-art facility with retina scans and holograms," Tsukishima scoffs as he passes by them heading to the fridge in the kitchen.

Shouyou flushes red. "N-No, I'm not. And don't call me kid. My name's Hinata! Kageyama already told you!"

Tsukishima just smirks at him before he takes a long sip from a canned soda. "Whatever." He turns to Kageyama. "So what's the plan here? Since the initial plan—our perfect, carefully detailed plan—got ruined."

Shouyou doesn't miss the reproachful glare from Tsukishima through his glasses, nor his sarcastic but palpably exasperated tone. He wants to fire back; he didn't ask for any of this. He's just as aggravated by this whole situation, and if he has the option to forget this entire night as if this is just some fever dream, he would grab at it like a starved animal. But reality cannot be escaped that easily and getting into Tsukishima's case, even if he's an asshole, won't make their situation any better. 

"Go contact HQ first," Kageyama says evenly. "I'll report the situation."

"Of course, you should. I am not facing Sawamura-san's wrath because of your mess." And with that Tsukishima disappears into one of the bedrooms.

Kageyama turns to Shouyou. "Is there anything else you missed to tell us about what you saw?"

"I told you, that was all I remember," Shouyou insists.

"Run it by me again."

Shouyou rolls his eyes. "Fine. Middle-aged guy, probably in his 40s. Sharp, green eyes, and a broken nose that looks like it's been bashed in a couple of times. Bald as heck, but he has this full beard. Black, with streaks of gray." He crosses his arm, huffing. "I already told you this in the car."

"We're just making sure, dumbass!" Kageyama huffs back.

"Stop calling me that!"

"Then stop acting like it! This is important, Hinata!" Kageyama roars, looming over Shouyou, forcing him to take a step back. "You don't know what is at stake here!"

"Yes, I don't! Because I didn't ask to be in this fucking horrible situation more than you do!" Shouyou spits, the fickle of anger simmering from  somewhere within him finally combusting.

He can see how Kageyama's nose flares in mirrored anger and Shouyou is already bracing himself for what comes next, but then the fight fizzle out of Kageyama in a heavy sigh, suddenly having a hard time meeting Shouyou's gaze. "Sorry. I'm sorry. Hinata, I—shit—you must be tired. There's another bedroom down by that hall. I...let's talk later. Okay?"

There's nothing but regret in Kageyama's handsome features. Regret at what, exactly, Shouyou can only guess. At shouting at him? At their ruined mission? At Shouyou's involvement in this? At meeting Shouyou at all?

He doesn't demand them on the spot. He'll reserve that for their talk later. So he answers, "Okay."

Kageyama looks like he still wants to say something but decides against it. He looks tired, and there's a small part of Shouyou that wants to drag him to the bedroom with him where they can cuddle and sleep until noon, missions and uncertainties forgotten.

"Okay," Kageyama says quietly, then follows Tsukishima into the other bedroom.

Getting a shower and wiping off all the grime from his hair and body does wonders for Shouyou's mood. Not substantially, just enough for him to calm himself and satiate his grumbling stomach.

He finds clothes in the dresser, grabbing a white shirt and a pair of jogger pants. They're a bit big on him, the hem of the shirt brushing over his upper thighs and making do with the long pants by rolling them up around his ankles, but he has no place to be picky when his own clothes are streaked with dirt and who knows what else. Pity, he did like that wine-red button-up shirt and dark jeans he was wearing.

His stomach tumbles again and he realizes he hasn't eaten since he left his apartment.

As he pads across the room to get something to eat in the kitchen, he can hear muffled voices in the other room. He recognizes both agents, although the words are indiscernible, and a couple of other identifiable voices.

He inches closer to the closed door, the voices getting louder, ignoring the teeny voice inside his head yelling at him to stop giving in to the impulses of his curiosity. It has a point—it's what has gotten him into this whole mess in the first place—but the urge is strong and his feet continue tip-toeing until he's face to face with the door, voices ringing much clearer now.

"Copy that, captain. Yes, I understand the consequences. Yes, sir," Kageyama's voice filters through the door.

Consequences? Is Kageyama in trouble?  Because of Shouyou?

Kageyama says more but Shouyou can barely keep up with his words. Either he's speaking in code or Shouyou just doesn't understand military jargon.

"Yes, sir. Goodbye."

Some shuffling and incomprehensible mumbling, and then, "You're lucky Sawamura-san let you off that easy."

"I did get important intel. Now we have enough to hunt down Osipov."

"Don't play with me, King. I know that you know that getting that intel is consequential. You know you fucked up."

"I know, okay?" The volume of Kageyama's voice makes Shouyou jolt. "It wasn't—I didn't mean for Hinata to get involved."

"Oh, please. He was already involved the very moment you decided to use him as part of your cover for the sting operation."

He wants to walk away, he doesn't think he can handle even more devastating revelations. His brain has just settled trying to wrap itself around the fact that Kageyama is an undercover cop and that he had brushed shoulders with death multiple times from this single night, and now his sanity is being unraveled all over again by the implication of Tsukishima's words. But his feet remain rooted on the carpet, muscles becoming heavy with both the shock and the damaging weight of betrayal.

Kageyama is saying something, voice sounding tensed and frantic, but Shouyou tunes him out as if his brain shuts down. Finally grappling enough strength to move his legs, he runs back to his room and locks the door behind him.


A sinkhole is beginning to form a vacuum within his chest, creating a cave that sucks in everything as it gurgles out waves of anger and disappointment. He takes in a shaky inhale, regulating his breathing. No, no —he is not going to cry.

His stomach twists violently, but he knows it's not due to the need for food. He attempts to hold it in, but with how exhausted he is both physically and mentally, he finds himself running to the bathroom and hurling his guts out in time at the toilet bowl.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, hands gripping the ceramic top to anchor himself, head bent low looking at his disgusting vomit, an apt representation of how awful he feels right now.

The back of his eyes prickle, floodgates threatening to burst out, but he squeezes his eyes tight, biting down hard on his lower lip. He concentrates on putting rhythm back to his breathing, remembering a technique his therapist taught him.

                    Breathe in. One, two, three.

                    Hold. One, two, three.

                    Breathe out. One, two, three.

Three more sets and he can feel his heart go from thundering to relaxed, breathing flowing in and out of him more easily. He cleans up, washes his face and brushes his teeth again.

He's far from feeling better, but at least his stomach doesn't rumble as much now. He is still hungry after all, much more now that he just threw up whatever remained in his system.

But as he's contemplating whether to go back to the kitchen or endure this hungered torture, there's a knock on the door, startling Shouyou that he almost slips on the floor as he exits the connecting bathroom.

"Hinata? Are you awake?"

His heart ceases to beat for a second before drumming fast again at the sound of Kageyama's voice.

"Please, there's something…” A pause, and then, “I want to talk."

"I-I'm really tired," Shouyou stammers, collecting his nerves and arranging them in neat lines. "Let's talk in the morning."

"That's not possible. Please, Hinata, just open the door."

"I don't want to!"

"Don't be stubborn." Then the knob jiggles, door shaking in its frame as Kageyama raps on it. "Open the door, Hinata."

"No!"

The rattling becomes more aggressive now, the door rattling against its hinges at the force. "Open the damn door, Hinata, or I'll break it down!" Kageyama roars from the other side of the room.

Shouyou’s anger must be greater than his fear because he stands his ground, his voice ringing loudly above the thudding noise as he shouts back, "I like to see you try!"

To his surprise, Kageyama does not try, his assault on the poor door coming to a stop. Instead, Shouyou hears a sigh, loud and defeated.

"Sorry. I just—" another tired exhale punctuates his words, "Just hear me out, Hinata. Please."

The rueful tone in Kageyama's voice appeases some of Shouyou's anger, resistance draining out of him. But hesitation still holds him back, and he remains standing as he watches the door.

He hears footsteps, at first thinking Kageyama has left, and his chest pangs with disappointment, but the sound gets louder, and then he hears Tsukishima's voice filter through.

"I couldn't care less about your lover's spat, but for the love of all things holy, quiet down. We might as well fire a flare gun from a window just to save Osipov the trouble."

If Kageyama responds to that, Shouyou barely hears him. He can only make out hushed, though aggressive murmurs, and after a while, nothing at all except for the sound of receding footsteps, until Shouyou is left with complete silence.

All alone, with only his conflicting, muddled emotions to keep him company, now deafening in the quietness and solitude.

It must have been too much, or he is physically too tired to suppress it any longer, and he collapses down on the bed, wishing the soft mattress could swallow him and wrap him with its lavender-scented linen until he is numb just so he could stop feeling this overwhelming weight within him.

Sleep eventually claims him as cold tears streak down his cheeks.

When Shouyou comes to, his face is a complete mess, stomach rumbling. With a groan, he kicks his feet free from being entangled with the duvet. He beelines towards the bathroom to wash his face, fighting against the grogginess and the hunger.

The splashes of cold water help, his awareness falling back slowly. It's eerily quiet, with just the faint clicking noise echoing beyond the bedroom.

How long was he asleep? Did Kageyama and Tsukishima leave already? They didn't leave Shouyou here all alone, right? Not when there's a homicidal criminal out to get his throat. Right?

He unlocks the door, cautiously making his way through the short hallway. The clicking sound becomes louder as he approaches, and he's never heard a more relieving sound than that of Tsukishima's aloof voice.

"I'm going out to rendezvous with Team Bravo. Might take a few hours." There's a short pause, and then, "Make sure you talk to him. And for fuck's sake, Kageyama, don't screw up more than you already did."

The door shuts with a resonant thud as the apartment is engulfed with silence.

For a moment, Shouyou stands there at the threshold between the hallway and the living room, the gnarly feelings returning tenfold. He's half a mind to return to his room, protesting stomach be damned, but for all that he is a nervous mess, he's not a coward. And he needs answers.

He steps out into the living room. Kageyama is there by the kitchen bar. The clicking noises are from his laptop, long fingers flying across the keyboard. There's that ever-present pout on his face, scrunched up in concentration, but beneath that is a veil of concealed exhaustion, only now apparent in his invulnerability.

Shouyou approaches slowly. Kageyama looks up from the laptop screen, gaze landing on Shouyou's. He looks like he hasn't slept for days, eyes a bit sunken as the screen casts a ghostly light across his face.

"Did you sleep well?"

"As well as I could hope for."

"Good." Kageyama stands, then pulls out a chair on the dining table. "Here, sit. I'll cook you something. You haven't eaten yet, right?"

Shouyou nods. Like a timid animal, he advances to sit on the offered chair.

They marinate in silence, save for the chopping and sizzling sounds as Kageyama cooks. It smells amazing, and Shouyou's stomach grumbles in agreement. He stares at Kageyama's broad back as he works with his too-small apron.

Shouyou wonders if in some alternate reality, he's also blessed with such a sight, where circumstances are with them instead of against, where secrets and lies are inconsequential, where he doesn't have to fight against his judgment for liking a man who has built his relationship with him with brick upon brick of lies.

"Here," Kageyama says as he offers Shouyou a plate of omurice .

"Thanks."

They eat in awkward quietness. The food is good, Shouyou’s body welcoming the warmth and satisfying feeling like an embrace. As if he needs more reasons to fall for this guy. He munches on his food with conflicting annoyance.

Shouyou insists on doing the dishes, despite Kageyama's insistence. Eventually, he relents and delegates himself to drying the dishwares.

"I know you were eavesdropping earlier."

Shouyou jolts to a stop for a few seconds but continues scrubbing the plates. He doesn't reply, continuing with his task. But what is he supposed to reply to that? Gee, wow, Kageyama, want me to give you a medal for that? He doubts it's the correct environment for a clapback like that.

"And I feel like I should explain myself."

A scoff escapes out of Shouyou's mouth like a knee-jerk response. "Don't worry. I'm not that stupid not to figure it out on my own." He's rubbing on the utensils with so much aggression that he's splashing suds and water everywhere.

Kageyama sighs. "I know you're not stupid."

Shouyou drops the ladle with such a force that it makes Kageyama flinch a little at the high-pitched clatter. "Then fucking tell me, Kageyama, why do you make me feel like I am?"

"That's why I'm asking you to let me explain—"

"You explaining makes no fucking difference. You know why?" Shouyou stops pretending to be concentrated on his chore and faces Kageyama, glare at the ready and an accusatory finger digging into the other man's chest.

"Because you're a liar. You've done nothing but lie to me since the day we first met. Then you have the absolute nerve to use me and take advantage of my feelings for you, you—you fucking asshole!"

The pointing turns to shoving with every word he spats, but Kageyama barely budges, and it makes Shouyou even more irritated. He pulls back both of his arms, putting more force into his next assault of shoving, but then Kageyama catches his wrists very easily. Shouyou squirms pathetically.

"Let me go! Stupid— jerk —let me go!"

"I won't until you stop being so fucking stubborn and listen to me!"

"No! Let go, Kageyama— ah !"

A sharp pain shot through Shouyou's hand, and he pulls it back, Kageyama's hold on him faltering. Crimson blood wells up from a cut on his palm. White porcelain pieces are scattered on the sink, a sharp piece with Shouyou's blood quickly turning the pool of water pink.

"Shit. Are you okay? Let me see." Kageyama grabs his hand back but with a gentleness that surprises Shouyou that he just lets Kageyama take his hand and fuss over it.

Grabbing a clean dish towel, Kageyama wraps it tightly around his hand, applying pressure to stem the bleeding. He's glaring at Shouyou's wound so hard as if the intensity of his stare would somehow stop it from gushing out blood.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. Now I've hurt you for real," Kageyama mumbles as he tightens the cloth around Shouyou's hand even more.

"It's not—" Shouyou starts but he's cut off when Kageyama drags him to sit on a chair.

"Put more pressure into it. I'll get the first aid kit."

Kageyama goes and returns in record time. He wastes no second either to start working on Shouyou's injured hand, cleaning the wound with meticulous diligence and finesse.

"It's not your fault you know," Shouyou says.

Kageyama frowns. "If I hadn't dragged you into this in the first place, you wouldn't cut your palm."

"That's stupid— ow ." Shouyou winces as Kageyama dabs some sort of ointment on his wound.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. It just stung a little."

"No, it's not okay." Kageyama finishes patching up Shouyou's injury with a piece of gauze. He doesn't let go of Shouyou’s hand, long fingers stroking gently over his. Shouyou can almost hear him thinking, as if he's arranging the words in his mind before saying them out loud.

"I did plan to use someone as part of my cover story. Made it seem believable like I'm just a random college kid going out every Friday night. Meeting up with someone would solidify my cover." He squeezes Shouyou's hand lightly, gaze then finally meeting Shouyou's own. "But then I met you."

"I am that someone, I get it."

"No. You were someone I least expected. You were someone I would pick last to use as a cover because you are loud and annoying and probably the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

Shouyou can only blink stupidly at Kageyama while his heart flounders helplessly in his chest, warmth quickly filling his cheeks, as he struggles to grasp the correct response.

Kageyama's hold on his hand tightens, brows wrinkling as he frowns deeply, gaze trained on Shouyou's gauzed-up hand. "But I used you anyway. I told myself it was for convenience, how it wouldn't be hard for me to act like I enjoy your company when I genuinely do. But I miscalculated. I underestimated how much I like you."

Midnight blue eyes meet him then, and past the frown lines and the dark circles, bare honesty reflects back at Shouyou. So much of it that he feels compelled to be honest, too, peeling back layers of walls built to protect himself. But now they feel flimsy and transparent in the face of sincerity in Kageyama's words.

"I like you so much I was even willing to compromise your safety, just so I could continue meeting you." Something like scoff escapes Kageyama's mouth, but it sounds bitter. "Tsukishima is always telling me how selfish I am. This is the only time I believed he might be right. But don't worry. After we capture Osipov, you won't have to deal with me anymore."

Slowly, he releases Shouyou's hand. Something twinges deep within Shouyou's heart, a feeling that tells him Kageyama is letting go more than his hold on his hand and Shouyou is left with the lingering warmth of his touch, like a phantom brand on his skin he doesn't have the means to rid himself of. He's not even sure if he wants to.

He has yet to say anything, but Kageyama doesn't seem to be waiting for it, nor expecting it. He stands and starts packing up the first aid kit.

"C'mon. You need to sleep more," he says, nodding in the direction of the bedroom.

Shouyou follows Kageyama in a daze, a hand clutched over his aching chest, rubbing to ease this stinging pain.

Kageyama's whole spiel isn't just an explanation—it's a farewell. To Shouyou, to their friendship, to whatever feelings he has for him until now. And it feels...unequivocal. Guaranteed, with no room at all for Shouyou to refuse. As if Kageyama forbids him to.

He really is a selfish man.

"Tsukishima would keep you company as long as the mission would take. He's not easy to get along with but he does care. Most of the time."

"How about you?"

"I'll be leading the mission. Kind of my punishment for messing things up, but I would've volunteered anyway." Something of a smile flickers in Kageyama's face. "I promise it won't take long, now that we know what Osipov looks like. Thanks to you."

Will I see you again? The question hangs precariously on the tip of Shouyou's tongue. It weighs too heavy with expectation—expectation that he knows Kageyama has made pretty clear that he won't be meeting.

So Shouyou needs to be even more selfish.

As Kageyama turns to leave, Shouyou's hand shoots out in urgency, closing around the other man's wrist. The warmth of Kageyama's skin against his palm is a stark contrast to the cold fear twisting around his heart.

Kageyama startles at his touch, tensing as he first stares at Shouyou's grip on his wrist, then at Shouyou. He can see the conflict in his indigo eyes, the need to get away but also, the desire to stay.

It gives Shouyou the courage he needs as he grasps Kageyama more firmly, gaze unfaltering, adamant.

"If this is the last time I'll ever see you, then I need you to pay for everything you have cost me. My time, my sanity, my heart. I want you to make me feel like everything was worth it. That I am worth it."

The look that Kageyama gives him is unreadable, face shrouded with sharp shadows in the dimly lit room. He doesn't make any motion either, and his unresponsiveness feeds Shouyou's mounting dread, along with the shame that comes with it.

After what seems like lifetimes, Kageyama finally speaks up, voice even, eerily calm, "You don't know what you're asking."

"I do," Shouyou insists. "I want you to pay. I want you—"

To do this , his mind finishes for him as his mouth becomes occupied with the sudden assault of Kageyama's own. He lets out a muffled squeak in surprise, but it soon evolves into a breathy moan, both in relief and satisfaction at the taste of Kageyama.

It's been so long, too long since Shouyou has last partaken of him, and greed quickly overtakes him as he flings his arms around Kageyama's neck, hands threading through his silky hair, holding on for dear life and pinning the other man in place. Not that Kageyama is attempting; quite the contrary, he's ravaging Shouyou with such fervor as if he missed the taste of him, too, as if he's just waiting for the opportunity to do it again, palms hot against Shouyou's cheeks as Kageyama devours him.

Then Kageyama is pressing forward, not breaking the kiss, and all Shouyou can do is follow, feet stepping back until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. With a deep gasp, they part, panting heavily as they topple as a single mass on the bed.

Kageyama hovers over Shouyou, arms propped against his face, knees pressed against his hips, locking him in place. His usually perfect hair is tousled, eyes blown wide and so dark they're almost black, lips glossy and bitten red. He's staring down at Shouyou like a predator that finally caught its prey—menacing, wild. Hungry.

But then something shifts and Kageyama's expression mellows into that of concern, brows knitting. "This is...what you meant, right?" he asks.

"Yes, you idiot," Shouyou huffs, even though his face is burning with a hundred shades of red.

Kageyama's lips quirks up. "Okay."

As adorable as it looks, Kageyama's dopey smile tastes just as sweet, especially now that Kageyama is kissing him less hurried and desperate, yet still with that passion that's too overwhelming it's making Shouyou's entire body burst.

But that's just for a while because the slow, sweet kisses dive back into the same ferocity as before—wet and sloppy and hot, with the way Kageyama nips on his lips and rolls his tongue to tangle with Shouyou's, warm hands roaming all over Shouyou's body, finding their way beneath his shirt.

Every touch of those expert hands burn a trail of fire in Shouyou's skin, and he truly fears he might combust when Kageyama starts mouthing against his throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses and licking the sweat off his skin. A deep moan escapes from Shouyou as he throws his head back, a hand cupping the back of Kageyama's head to guide him where he wants him. Kageyama lets him, and at the same time takes matter into his own hands—quite literally, as he hastily sits up to pull Shouyou's shirt off before swiftly continuing, mouth now moving down, down, tracing the expanse of his chest.

And with every touch and kiss, Shouyou can feel himself twitch in his shorts, a warmth coiling in his belly as his cock begin to harden.

"K-Kageyama— aah !"

An undignified squeal comes out of him when a stiff tongue plays at his nipples, fingers scratching and pulling at a handful of Kageyama's inky hair as he moans and whimper; Kageyama doesn't seem to mind as he continues to lick and nibble on one nub, the other far from neglected with it being rolled and pinched between deft fingers.

Shouyou arches his back, desperate for more—more friction, more everything , and when his growing erection brushes against something hard and big that earns a groan from the man above him, that desperation begs to be fulfilled even more.

He drags Kageyama down, arms and legs looping around the broadness of the other man, feeling the shift of his muscles beneath his touch, the sweet, sweet friction when their hardness press together.

"More," Shouyou whines, squirming for more pressure like a deprived madman. "More, Kageyama, please ..."

"Shit," Kageyama curses, as if in annoyance, but his body meets Shouyou's demands as though he's no longer in control anymore. He rolls down his hips in absolutely sinful undulations, and every press of his erection against Shouyou along with the ravenous kisses, the shared hot breaths, the possessive touch mapping Shouyou's skin, set off fireworks in every nerve of his body, the pleasure Kageyama is offering him acting as fuel.

They fall into this desperate rhythm of hips thrusting up and down, rough, and honestly clumsy, but it only stokes this insatiable need to feel more of each other, or at least, that's how it is for Shouyou. He needs—he needs —

"I need to feel you," Kageyama groans in his ear, and Shouyou actually sobs, only nodding ‘yes, yes, me too,’ because he's too overwhelmed to even form coherent sentences right now.

In swift, hurried movements, they end up standing on their knees, with Kageyama ripping Shouyou's remaining clothes off him and discarding them somewhere on the floor, Kageyama's own clothes adding to the pile. He doesn't know how Kageyama did it in a flat second; not that he cares, really. All that he gives a shit about is the marvelous sight before him—Kageyama in all his nakedness, perfect in every way possible, like a sculpted Greek god came to life. It's the first he's seen Kageyama in all his glory, with their first sexual exploit done partially clothed given the circumstances. But he's thankful he's only given the privilege to appreciate it now, where he can admire and touch to his heart's desire.

He traces every hard muscle, every defined line and edge with awe, fascinated at the way Kageyama tenses under the scrutiny of his touch, the way his breath hitches when Shouyou's exploration drifts further down, the way his turgid cock twitches as if it's happy to see Shouyou, too.

"Stop staring at it, dumbass," Kageyama grumbles, and when Shouyou stares up at him, his face is dusted pink, canceling out the frown on his face.

Shouyou ignores him, of course, and redirects his attention back to the incredible dick before him. It's as impressive as the rest of Kageyama, big and thick, the largest Shouyou has seen, its pinkish head shiny with precum. 

Unable to hold himself back anymore, he traces a bulging vein with his finger, starting from the underside and up to the tip. A deep sigh releases from Kageyama as he jolts slightly, but he makes no attempt to move away. Shouyou looks up at him again, only to see the other man already staring down at him, midnight eyes glinting in the dark in obvious anticipation.

So Shouyou obliges as he wraps his entire hand around Kageyama's thickness, yet still not enough to fully cover the girth of it. He begins to stroke in languid movements at first, then slowly builds a momentum, twisting up and down, until he's pumping in earnest, driven by the low moans and groans from Kageyama.

Then he gapes his mouth open to fill it with all the meat in his hands.

"H-Hinata—you—oh— holy fuck —!

Shouyou would have smiled in triumph if his mouth isn't stuff full of cock, stretched thin with how massive and hard it is. He suppresses the urge to gag, ears prickling and mouth pooling with saliva, as he gives himself a moment to adjust.

It doesn't take him too long though, his greediness is most certainly in control now as he begins to move, bobbing his head up and down Kageyama's cock, hand covering what he can't swallow.

Kageyama is saying something, but Shouyou turns deaf to it, intent on savoring the taste and feel of Kageyama in his mouth and throat, getting high on the heady smell of his manliness saturating Shouyou’s senses.

With a gasp, he pulls off to breathe, but quickly dives back, tongue lapping up and down the shaft and ending with a slurp on the cockhead. He does it again and again, and with the way the cock in his mouth dribbles with even more precum, and the hand on his hair pulling by a fistful, Kageyama's close. Both of them are, in fact, and Shouyou closes a hand on his neglected, raging dick to pump in time with the way he jerks Kageyama.

And they would have reached the zenith for another second more if not for Kageyama suddenly pulling Shouyou off him with a loud, slurping noise, then pushing him back on the bed. Hands up on both sides of his head, Kageyama grips his wrists, pinning him down.

"I told you to stop," Kageyama says lowly, and the deep rumble of his voice strikes a bolt of electricity running through Shouyou's body, making him shiver.

"I wanted to make you cum.”

Shouyou might have said more before Kageyama captures his open mouth with a searing kiss, moaning instead when Kageyama's weight settles on top of him, hard, slicked dick pressing against Shouyou's own.

"And I said I need to feel you," Kageyama groans against his lips, then punctuates his demand by driving his hips down, rubbing their cocks together.

With their combined precum and Shouyou's slobber, it slides with ease, the immense pleasure it gives a bit too much for him as he comes unexpectedly, gasping wordlessly as he spills all over their stomach, warm and sticky.

"Fuck, you're so..." Kageyama trails off and instead kisses him, his still-hard cock gliding over and over Shouyou's.

He can feel himself trickle back to full hardness, yielding so easily to Kageyama as if he has taken complete monopoly of his body, as if he hasn't taken so much from Shouyou already.

And that's not good at all. This is supposed to be his compensation, and although tasting Kageyama was an adequate reparation, it’s nowhere near enough for this all-consuming want taking over Shouyou's entire being.

So with a tight embrace and an upward roll of his hips to meet Kageyama's movements, he pulls away from their kiss with a sharp gasp, just so he can nip at the other man's ear lobe and whisper his demand, "Fuck me, Kageyama."

Kageyama stills then, pulling away from Shouyou.

"Are you sure?" he asks. "Isn't this enough?"

Something sharp pokes at Shouyou's heart as if a hundred knives simultaneously stab at it at the glimpses of confusion and hesitation in Kageyama's words. It puts all of his desire and lust on hold, reason taking over the helm. Is he asking for too much? Is he just forcing Kageyama to do this with him? Does Kageyama not like him enough to go that far? It isn't their first time, but if Shouyou was really used as some sort of shield then—

"Because there's so little that holds me back from making an absolute mess out of you,” Kageyama tells him as he stares at Shouyou with a silent plea in his azure eyes. "And once I start, I won't stop. I will have you like you've never been taken before. I will make you believe that you're mine and mine alone.”

He cradles Shouyou’s face between his large hands as if he's grounding Shouyou from the tidal wave of emotions crashing through him, heart beating thunderously. 

Shouyou reaches out, placing his hand on Kageyama's cheeks, and he just about melts when the other man leans on it, eyes fluttering close. Like this, he looks less of the intimidating, mysterious man and more of a person full of vulnerabilities, of emotions he doesn't quite know how to convey, of this sadness and exhaustion he tries to hide beneath walls of barriers.

Now he's willing to bare it all with Shouyou. It is now that Shouyou realizes that Kageyama has nothing but honest with his feelings for him from the start. Not as an agent on a mission, but as a man longing for genuine company. 

Maybe Shouyou should start being honest about his own feelings, too.

Propping himself up with his elbows, he guides Kageyama down, meeting him into a kiss. It's soft and delicate, innocent, even, but it's the very nature of how Shouyou feels. This isn't the same as his wild, often spontaneous and brief romantic encounters from his past relationships. This is something Shouyou can't quite place a name for, but knows this is different—wonderfully, surprisingly different in a way his words fail to describe. So for now he's letting his feelings guide him.

"Then make me yours," Shouyou says over Kageyama's lips.

He is responded to with another deep kiss, and he accepts it with no complaints and a tight embrace as Kageyama gently guides him to lie back on the bed.

Kageyama's intoxicating kisses make him heady, and he actually whines when Kageyama breaks away. Shouyou watches as Kageyama leans over to rummage on the bedside table, lending him the opportunity to admire Kageyama's taut muscles, delineating into an outline of sharp edges and hard angles.

Kageyama is hovering above him again, a small bottle and a packet of condoms now in hand. He's flushed beet red from the chest up and Shouyou giggles. Expectantly, Kageyama's face crumples into a scowl.

"What?"

"Nothing." Shouyou giggles some more and Kageyama's face continues looking like he sucked a lemon. It makes Shouyou want to tease him more. He points at the items in Kageyama's hand. "You planned this, didn't you? Pervert."

Kageyama goes even redder. "N-No, idiot! They have these in stock in every hotel room!"

" Suuuure , Kageyama-san."

"You're really asking for it, huh?" Kageyama warns, blue eyes narrowing dangerously. 

Shouyou answers with a smirk. "Do your worst."

He really shouldn't have provoked Kageyama because he isn't given any chance to even brace himself as he's manhandled, Kageyama gripping one of Shouyou's ankles to fling over his shoulder. Kageyama angles forward, bending Shouyou's knee nearly close to his chest, with his other knee being propped up. 

Shouyou squirms, face coloring with the deepest shade of red. He's exposed as all hell, with his dick standing on attention and his hole twitching like it's begging for something to fill it with.

And Kageyama doesn't keep him waiting as he presses the pad of his finger against his entrance, the cold and wetness of the lube making him flinch a little.

"Relax," Kageyama tells him, words as soothing as the gentle caresses over Shouyou's thigh.

And Shouyou does relax, taking a deep breath, and slowly releasing it as the first knuckle of Kageyama's finger enters him. Maybe he's so darn good at relaxing or he's really just so unabashedly horny that it takes no time at all for Kageyama to ease the rest of his finger, sliding it in and out a few times, before adding one more digit, opening Shouyou up in earnest.

Moans and whines escape from his open mouth uninhibited with each deliberate, terrifyingly accurate stroke, nearly convulsing when Kageyama curls his fingers, just so . A fresh spurt of precum leaks out of Shouyou, making a mess all over his stomach.

"K-Kageyama— ohh —please— please —" he mewls as he grinds back on the slender fingers buried in him. He doesn't even know what he's asking for, he just wants Kageyama, just more of him, and this inebriating pleasure he's giving him.

His sobs are silenced when Kageyama kisses him, open-mouthed and sloppy and wet, and with his fingers still wiggling inside him and teasing against that sweet spot Shouyou doesn't even know he has until now. It's a bit too much for Shouyou to handle, senses oversaturating.

Yet still, he whimpers like a spoiled brat when Kageyama pulls his lips and fingers from him. But Kageyama doesn't keep him waiting for long, preparing now to fulfill Shouyou's silent demand for more as he hastily rolls a condom over his impressive cock that Shouyou has a brief moment of concern about whether the condom would fit. With their luck, it does, and Kageyama proceeds to slather a generous amount of lube all over himself.

"Open yourself up for me."

In his daze, Shouyou doesn't quite hear him at first, and he mumbles a groggy, "Huh?"

"Hold yourself open," Kageyama tells him again, hands guiding Shouyou's own to place over his ass. "I want to take you properly."

Maybe he's too drunk in lust and want for this man that Shouyou just follows without fussing, throwing any smidge of shame and dignity left in him out of the window, as he pulls his ass cheeks apart, quivering, slicked up hole ready for whatever it is that Kageyama and his huge cock demands from it.

It's not the first time he has welcomed Kageyama's size in him, but with how agonizingly slow he's pushing into Shouyou—thick cockhead dipping in first and staying for a while, then pulling back with just the tip in—sends Shouyou into a spiral between pleasure and frustration.

Kageyama repeats this torturous motion a few more times, rocking back and forth into Shouyou as he groans, lids fluttering whenever his cock slips past Shouyou's slicked-up hole.

"K-Kageyama—n-no—I need to feel you more—I need you," Shouyou whines, begs , hips pushing back and wriggling against Kageyama for more pressure, more friction, more everything . "Y-You said you'd take me properly—you said— ahh !"

He screams right into the ceiling, back arching, as Kageyama fully slams into him, hips flushed against hips, then backing up before thrusting into him once again. And again. And again —the pace brutal and unforgiving.

Shouyou loves every second, every inch of it.

"You're so damn impatient," Kageyama growls as he pounds into Shouyou relentlessly.

Large hands wrap around his waist, using Shouyou's own body as anchor to fuck into Kageyama’s cock harder, faster, deeper , each thrust pressing against his sweet spot, sending waves upon waves of psychedelic ecstasy. Even Shouyou’s own voice gets lost in the thick of it, and all he can do is gasp and drool all over like some mindless animal.

He even cums for the second time soundlessly, nothing but a sharp inhale as his dick spurts all over his stomach, fingers clenching on the soiled sheets beneath him. Kageyama fucks him through it, pace interrupted. Every thrust squeezes out another string of hot, sticky liquid out of him, body convulsing, as if his body is dissociating due to pure bliss.

"H-Hold me, K-Kageyama. Hold me," he whimpers, shaky arms reaching out, and he actually sobs when Kageyama lowers himself to meet his embrace. His hips pauses in their movements, and Shouyou whines again, kicking Kageyama in his butt. "Don't stop," he demands.

"I'm not. I won’t, " Kageyama tells him, movements picking up again, cock languidly sliding in and out of Shouyou as he trace feathery kisses all over his neck, sucking on the softer parts that makes Shouyou's already trembling heart go even wilder.

He's never been fucked like this, never been held like he's something priceless and delicate, never been showered with this much affection and attention. He's all for the wild, rough sex, but he revels in this kind of intimacy, all slow and sensual, both their body heat combining into this fiery, all-consuming passion that threatens to melt them into a single being.

This might be what making love feels like.

He clings to Kageyama like he's afraid of losing this, of losing him , and maybe after tonight that is the reality he will have to face, but for now he allows himself to be taken by this man, both in body and heart.

"Hinata..." Kageyama whispers by his ear, and Shouyou unburies his face from where it's lodged in Kageyama's shoulder. Kageyama smiles when their eyes meet, fingers flicking away the strands of hair plastered on his forehead. "Okay?" he asks, and although he sounds concerned, he never stops driving his cock into Shouyou.

"Y-Yes," Shouyou moans, fingers digging into Kageyama's shoulder blades when Kageyama hits at an angle just right, grinding directly into his prostate, his dick coming back to life, fast. "T-That's— there —so good—"

"Here?" Kageyama asks, tempo picking up now as he continues abusing that spot. Shouyou can only give his reply in gasping moans. "Do you feel good?"

What do you think, idiot , is what he wants to say, but what comes out is a broken, panting, " F-Fuck —K-Kageyama!"

Kageyama finally stops asking stupid questions and tucks his arms under Shouyou, cock sliding out almost all the way out then slamming into Shouyou hard as he pulls him closer, lifting him off the bed that he's practically sitting on Kageyama's lap. Powerful thrusts stab right into his prostate repeatedly, and even then his desperation knows no end as he meets every roll of Kageyama's hips with his own, grinding back and clenching at the thick cock punishing him, giving as good as he is getting.

His eyes roll at the back of his head, vision starting to white at the edges at this feeling of pure euphoria filling every pore, every fragment of his being.  He gets so lost in his version of wonderland that he comes, again , almost unexpectedly, simply allowing the heat within him to combust until release for the second time, mind blanking as he gushes out warm strings of cum.

Kageyama groans, shuddering as he gathers Shouyou in his arms tightly, driving into him, once, twice, and they both chorus out a moan when Kageyama empties into the condom, shoving even deeper into Shouyou as he does.

His hips stutter into Shouyou as he rides his orgasm out, and a moment of regret passes Shouyou for missing out on the feel of Kageyama's hot, thick cum painting his bare walls. And there's a lot of it, with the way the condom expands within him.

Shouyou rests his head on Kageyama's shoulder as he catches his breath, small quivers still running through him in the wake of the most pleasurable climax he's ever had.

He might have drifted off to sleep, who knows, and he's only awakened by a soothing touch running up and down his back

"You alive?" Kageyama asks in a whisper, gently lifting the shoulder Shouyou is cushioned in to nudge him.

"Hmm."

"Hinata?"

With a sigh, he finally allows himself to move, turning his head so he can face the other man, who is already staring at him, all knitted brows and pouting lips. Shouyou traces over the defined cupid's bow with his finger. "Never felt more alive," he says.

His wandering hand gets captured by larger ones, navy blue eyes unwavering in their gaze as Kageyama kisses his hand before cupping his chin to shower the same attention on his lips.

"Let me clean you up," Kageyama says when they pull away. Shouyou nods but does nothing to make any actual movements. Kageyama doesn't seem to mind as he does all the work, slowly pulling out of Shouyou and disposing of the filled condom, before scooping him up bridal-style to the bathroom.

Shouyou is half-conscious as Kageyama scrubs him clean, gets him dressed, and tucks him back in the bed with fresh new sheets.

He watches with half-lidded eyes as Kageyama gathers his scattered clothes off the floor and puts them back on. For a minute, he just stands beside the bed, brows wrinkling as he glares lasers on the floor. He looks… guilty, which strikes a punch in Shouyou’s gut.

When Kageyama sighs as he turns around, Shouyou moves faster than he’s ever moved in his life. He catches Kageyama’s arm, gripping him tightly around the wrist.

Another sigh leaves Kageyama, slowly turning around to face Shouyou. It might be post-nut delusion or Shouyou is just too gone at this point but he sees a glimpse of relief in Kageyama’s features, as if he was hoping for Shouyou’s action.

Or maybe, it’s bravery in the face of dread.

“Stay,” Shouyou pleads, his hold on Kageyama tightening. “Please, stay.”

He can hear his pulse thundering as he waits for Kageyama’s response, heart trying to burrow in the depths of his chest as if shielding itself from being irreparably broken by rejection.

He doesn’t even realize he has his breath held until he let out a heavy exhale when Kageyama gets on the bed with him.

Shouyou immediately snuggles into broad chest and open arms, inhaling in the warmth off Kageyama. Strong arms wind around him, pulling him closer.

“I’m here,” Kageyama whispers.

Shouyou drifts into a slumber, taking the affection in Kageyama’s hold and voice, safekeeping them in his dreams, instilling them deep in his memories.

Because he knows, he understands , that this piece of indulgence Kageyama is giving him might possibly be the last.

Kageyama is gone when Shouyou awakes the next morning.

He half-expected it, but it doesn’t assuage the pain boring a hole in Shouyou’s chest, not even the flush that floods his body as his mind fills with the memories of last night, vestiges of where Kageyama had been evident all over his body.

He traces each one as he showers, enduring the tenderness with every press on each mark, the ache that lingers in his limbs, the soreness that makes his stomach swoop.

Tsukishima is already up when Shouyou goes to the kitchen. They exchange a look in silence, then Tsukishima simply gestures at the food spread at the table.

Shouyou wants to ask about Kageyama, but he feels it’s not in his place to. So he’ll ask for something he thinks he’s entitled to.

“Uhm, so, my friends…I mean, my roommates…” he starts, not quite looking at the other man and instead rolling around the tomatoes in his plate. “I’m just worried about them…”

“A covert security detail is watching over them as we speak.”

Shouyou looks up then. “So they’re being stalked?”

Tsukishima gives him a brief glance before his eyes shift back to his laptop screen. “If you want to think of it that way, sure. Point is, they’re being monitored as Kageyama requested.”

“Kageyama did?”

“Yes.” Shouyou doesn’t miss the slight sharpness in Tsukishima’s tone or the way he passive-aggressively closes his laptop. Certainly not in the hint of disdain in his amber eyes behind those glasses. “I still don’t get what Mr. Perfectionist sees in you to mess up this career-changing mission.”

“Sorry.”

Tsukishima waves his hand, face back to his default blank expression. “Whatever. I’m just paying him back for a favor he did for me.”

Before Shouyou could ask, Tsukishima grabs his stuff and stands. “You can do whatever, just no contacting anyone. Don’t answer the door when someone rings in. Not even housekeeping. Just knock on my room if someone does.”

And with that, he scurries to his room, locking the door behind.

Following Tsukishima’s rules for the next two weeks is easy enough.

Shouyou lost his phone back at the club, so he truly has gone off the grid. Never mind calling his family and friends—he can’t even turn in a due assignment for one of his classes.

(He did ask Tsukishima if he could at least contact his professors that he’d be out of commission for the next few days. A blank look that screams “Are you a moron?” is the only reply he got).

The door remains closed and unbothered, not even the tiniest sound coming from the other side. It still doesn’t calm the jitters in his stomach, the stillness almost haunting, the calm like a bad omen for what is to come.

And as the days drag on, Shouyou'ss anxiousness mounts to actual fear. Does it really take this long to search for one guy, what with the best of technology the world has to offer at the fingerprints of these high profile agents? Tsukishima never tells him anything, his badgering and pouting falling into blind eyes and deaf ears. He barely even talks to him, or even be at the same room as him. It’s not that Tsukishima hates him; he knows this because he asks him, point blank, and the plain answer, “ no ,” was a relief. The man simply doesn’t engage much socially. He spends most of his time clicking and clacking away on his laptop, likely helping the mission in his own way, but who is Shouyou to assume.

That lends Shouyou to suffer confinement with no phone, no internet, no anything to distract himself from the fact that there’s a large, gaping hole where his heart had been.

As days turn into weeks, Shouyou learns as best he can to entertain himself. There's a TV in the safehouse which he watches for any potential news on Kageyama and his mission against the Russian mafia, but the vast majority of the time he simply watches whatever day shows are on.

He learns to cook and bake some interesting recipes (the day he presented Tsukishima with a strawberry tart was the day the guy finally stopped complaining about ordering groceries for them), does yoga and meditation following the dictates of the weird spiritual channel he found late one night (a result of his continuous insomnia), watches crime drama after crime drama in the afternoons, laughs and dances along with the stupid pop songs on the children's programmes. Falls into a routine of cleanliness and tidiness he never once had in his past life, as keeping busy is the only way to silence the otherwise engulfing noise in his head.

One night, plagued by worry so dark it made him sick, he finally convinced Tsukishima—who looked at him retching in the bathroom with a mix of concern and shock—to request permission from his superiors for Shouyou to pass on a couple of letters discreetly to his family, his best friends, and his faculty's Dean explaining his absence. The letters are written alongside the blonde agent and scrutinized to oblivion until he nods curtly in agreement, satisfied that they give away nothing important or compromising to Shouyou's safety and location, or more crucially, the mission. 

With that taken care of, Shouyou finally falls into a lull, mind and heart numbed by the monochrome routine he had created for himself in the safehouse while waiting for his freedom to be granted to him once again.

One thing Shouyou doesn't do, however— cannot do , to be more precise—is touch himself. From the night Kageyama leaves, Shouyou never once attempts to soothe his own needs again. Not because he has company in the safehouse since Tsukishima leaves the fort on several occasions, sometimes for hours at a time; or because he does not have the necessary tools. Somehow, a small paper bag with a convenience store lube and a tiny vibrator magically appears in front of his bedroom door one morning, a couple of days after Kageyama disappears from their lives. It makes Shouyou blush and malfunction in embarrassment on the spot, and he's unable to even look his blonde 'jailer' in the eyes for the rest of that day.

No, nothing of the sort.

It's just that every time he even thinks of anything remotely horny, his mind immediately conjures up the memory of Kageyama's gaze, his mouth, his touch, the feel of him on top and inside Shouyou. Nothing would ever be able to compare to what Shouyou experienced during their last night together, so he doesn't even try to recreate it at all.

Sure, he wakes up most mornings with the phantom sensation of Kageyama's lips on his, of his strong arms around his waist, of his body being bent in two and being filled to the brim, but once reality kicks in, it's like Shouyou is doused in ice-cold water from the inside out. Just the thought of wrapping his hand around himself and trying to get any sort of relief fills him with unspeakable grief and loss, so Shouyou steers well away from it, busying himself with housekeeping and cooking and baking and watching what have by now become his favourite shows.

For two months, this has been Shouyou’s life—if he can even call it that. His monotonous, mind-numbing “life.” It’s as if his body has gone on instinct mode, going through his every day routine without much brain power involved. There are some days where he doesn’t even bother to function, laying spread eagle in his bed and stares at the ceiling, watching the sunlight blur into darkness, only getting up to feed himself and then promptly going back to bed, waiting for sleep to claim him, either temporarily or permanently, he doesn’t care anymore.

“You’re free to go by tomorrow,” Tsukishima tells him over their breakfast. “We’ve already arranged all the necessary stuff needed.”

“Oh.” The pancake suddenly tastes weird in Shouyou’s mouth. “So the mission—”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with that,” Tsukishima cuts him off sharply. Then he sighs, rubbing and pinching his brows from under his glasses. His eyes look sunken, dark circles rimming them. “It’s classified for now, even for a witness like you. It’s a safety protocol. The less you know, the safer you’ll be. We’re still drafting what will be released in the press. You’ll hear about it then.”

I don’t care about the damn details , Shouyou simmers in his head, but his words remain unheard, mind still reeling at the announcement of his freedom.

He should feel elated, relieved. And maybe he is, it’s just…not in the magnitude he wants it to be. Not in the way he expects himself to feel.

Because it feels incomplete, in some way. He may be safe to return back to society, be with his family and friends at long last, but his heart remains imprisoned, suspended in that 2-bedroom room, still yearning for something he lost that wasn’t his in the first place.

His freedom means breaking the delusion that Kageyama would return to him and be the one to whisk him away from his de facto prison, to tell him how successful the mission is and how Shouyou is the reason that keeps him going, the longing to see him again the strength he needed to bring down a whole crime syndicate.

But delusions will remain delusions, probably a product of his confinement and solitude. He doesn’t even know if Kageyama is still alive.

So he tries to leave these fantasies behind as he finally steps foot outside of the hotel he was holed up in, trying to greet the open skies and fresh air with a grateful smile.

But he’s struggling to emulate happiness after being deprived of it for so long. Sure, he’s thankful and relieved to see his family and friends again, who thought Shouyou was just on some internship overseas, but the anxiousness and melancholy he still carries within him outweighs  the solace they bring.

It takes a while for him to assimilate himself socially again, even taking a week before he attends classes. Even his roommates notice the change, how he often shuts himself in his room, how he suddenly has this interest in cooking and baking and yoga, how he prefers to spend his Fridays drinking brewed coffee in some quaint café off campus instead of partying until sunrise like he used to.

That Hinata Shouyou feels like he belonged in a previous life, a figment of some fever dream, or an alternate reality. A person who was oblivious and happy-go-lucky and unbothered, a person the Hinata Shouyou now envies for never having to tend to a broken heart.

Moving on was never an issue for him before, but that isn't surprising considering he never truly invested himself in someone on a deep, emotional level. Not at all like how he felt and continues to feel about...whatever he had with Kageyama. It was short and spontaneous and confusing as hell, but it doesn't deter from the fact that Kageyama thoroughly and irreversibly captured his heart.

So here he is, sipping his hot mocha latte together with his new friends—loneliness and melancholia—wondering how one recovers from a broken heart and bruised soul. He scrolls through his phone mindlessly, chuckling to himself every now and then when he sees some silly meme or a cute puppy video. But his smile immediately drops when a news article catches his attention.

He's skimming through his feed so fast that he almost missed it. Hands trembling, he clicks on the article link titled "Osipov syndicate finally apprehended, Interpol reports."

Shouyou skips through the morbid details, eyes only on the lookout for any mention of Kageyama, or if he's lucky, a picture of him. He goes through the article twice, thrice, and god knows how many times now, his fingertips heating up in friction as he scrolls like some madman, only for his search to be futile. There's nothing about Kageyama, not even a description of him. The article did mention an agent who tracked Osipov in his safehouse, basically initiating the takedown of the crime lord's whole empire, but that's it.

To be fair, and if Shouyou lets his common sense talk, Interpol operates secretly and discreetly as he had experienced; it's really a given the media won't release any agent's name. He knows it's him being selfish, tripping once again into the traps of wishful thinking, but he can't help it. He needs healing, he needs peace, because damn it all, that last night with Kageyama that's supposed to bring them both closure has given Shouyou anything but that.

He doesn't know what's worse—having to live with the fact that he has no idea if Kageyama is still alive, or if he is out there, healthy and still handsome as hell, off into another one of his death-defying, world-saving missions, completely forgotten about Shouyou.

It’s another bland Tuesday afternoon. Shouyou is, as had been customary since his return to 'normal' life, quietly holed up in his favourite little café, having just said goodbye to one of his quietest friends, Yacchan, who often studies with him these days, and who'd just left with her girlfriend of many years. High school sweethearts, Kanoka and Yacchan are both very kind to Shouyou, people with whom he can easily talk and be content without needing to 'force' his previously sunny happiness.

Being with the girls is always nice, but it is also somehow bittersweet, every single time; leaving Shouyou bereft in a way he does not, and could not, quite explain, either to them or even himself.

Their easy companionship, gentle banter and the way Kanoka in particular dotes and looks after Yacchan—it all brings home to Shouyou, so very obviously and starkly, how lonely he is. It hurts, in a manner he has, strangely, become accustomed to. Of course, it’s not their fault Shouyou's heart is filled with a black chasm, and he values their soothing friendship way too much to scare them away with his own despondency.

So here he is, watching the world go by, running away from the wintry rain and wind battering outside, its forceful tap-tap-tap against the café window mind-numbing in a way Shouyou has come to appreciate and look forward to.

As he immerses himself in his Literature homework once more, he’s vaguely aware of the cheerful tinkling of the cafe's door as it opens and closes with new customers; the hubbub of tea orders and hushed giggling from the nearby tables blending seamlessly into what had since become a sign of safety among Shouyou's daily background noise.

His thoughts drift away to Kageyama again, where he might be, whether he is happy and safe. If he had found someone new. With a sigh, Shouyou pushes them away in favour of the passage he’s reading:

                    "Everything passes. Nobody gets anything for keeps. And that's how we've got to live."

Even his homework is telling him to move on, now. How pathetic , he thinks as he chuckles darkly to himself.

Suddenly, a shadow casts over his open notebook page. Shouyou looks up, surprised that someone approached him, expecting maybe to see one of his classmates or friends.

Instead, to his befuddlement, a tall man, with broad shoulders and pale skin, stands in front of him, cup of coffee in hand.

Shouyou stares openly, mystified at how handsome the man is, with silky black hair cropped short against a slender nape and piercing dark-blue eyes, so reminiscent of—

"Can I sit here?" the stranger asks.

There’s familiarity in his tone, as if they know each other. Shouyou nods dazedly, still confused. The man sits down across from him at the little table by the window, gazing at Shouyou with awkward, quiet concern writ large across his face.

It reminds Shouyou once again so vividly of the one person plaguing all his thoughts, but— no , it couldn't be. Kageyama would never turn up like this, on a random Tuesday evening months after Osipov had finally been dealt with.

As the stranger makes himself comfortable and stirs his coffee in slow movements, the awkward silence caused by Shouyou's confusion remains.

The man gazes up at him once more, before finally muttering quietly, "Hinata, I'm sorry, I didn't—"

Curiosity burning on his tongue, Shouyou cut him off accidentally, "I'm sorry, but... do we know each other?"

The man suddenly stops his slow motions, arms falling slack on top of his lap as he stares at Shouyou in this indescribable mix of horror and hurt so deep it makes Shouyou wince internally.

Had he... had he said something he shouldn't? But this is... it couldn't be... Kageyama would never return back to Shouyou's life like this, right? With a coffee in hand as if it’s normal for them to meet for dates at a hidden little place on campus. 

As the seconds pass and move into several minutes of tense silence, Shouyou's brain slowly came to the shrieking conclusion, as the man turns his gaze down to the floor, features scrunched in a grimace so pained it makes something unpleasant and suffocating unfurl inside Shouyou's chest—that the person sitting right in front of him is, indeed, Kageyama himself.

"I... you... how...?” Shouyou asks, shock rendering him incoherent.

Kageyama lifts his face for a brief moment, still looking like someone had shot him straight in the chest. "Did I hurt you that much that you forgot I existed?"

His words are quiet, contained. They speak of rejection and, strangely, resignation. Shouyou cannot bear them. What they seem to imply.

"I knew involving you in my plans for the mission was the worst mistake I've ever made in my life, but I never thought that you..." A sigh, before Kageyama looks straight into Shouyou’s eyes, resignation written plainly there. "I came to apologise once more, and see if you were okay. I'm glad to see that is the case. I'll take my leave now."

And faster than Shouyou's still-in-shock-brain could process, Kageyama stands, taking his jacket and tipping his head into a bow, "Goodbye, Hinata Shouyou. It’s…nice, seeing you again."

"WAIT!"

Shouyou does not realize how loud his voice is until it comes out. His body has somehow caught onto the fact that he’s about to lose the only person he's ever had an actual interest in his whole life faster than his confused-addled mind ever could, and he reacts in the only way he knew: grabbing for Kageyama's arm as he turns to leave.

Shouyou needs him to stay. He has questions, so many questions. Why is he here? What did he mean by the worst mistake of his life ? Had their... fling, or whatever their last night had been, meant anything?

Does he dream of Shouyou every night, think of him every minute of every day, as Shouyou dreams and thinks of him?

The whole café is looking at them, and Shouyou is suddenly very aware of the whispers and stares. But more than embarrassment, he feels ridiculously happy, and overwhelmingly upset, if that even makes any sense. But above all, he hungers for answers.

Closure.

He needs Kageyama to be honest, for once, and clearly and unequivocally tell Shouyou if the feelings he'd once implied were honest. Genuine. If the tenderness he'd shared with Shouyou on their last night is something Shouyou could hold onto, has the right to claim it as his. Or whether it had all been an act. A part of the plan. A necessary trick for the success of the mission.

"Why did you come back? Why now?" His voice cracks as his resolve to seek answers suddenly meets the mortifying awareness that maybe ignorance might have been better. "What do you want from me?"

Stern blue eyes meets his lost gaze, seeming to soften a fraction at the vulnerability in Shouyou's stance. Kageyama shuffles back to the table, right next to where Shouyou is half-standing, dismissive of the other patrons' attention. He towers over Shouyou, though it feels more like he’s shielding them, and their conversation, from the rest of the world.

"I told you already. I came to see if you were okay. If I hadn't destroyed your life completely. And also to..."

"To...?" Shouyou murmurs, holding onto his every word for dear life. He feels adrift, mind reeling and body faint.

Kageyama eyes him for a moment, stare inscrutable. "What do you want me to say?"

The question is so unlike what Shouyou expected that it jars him back to reality, to the sudden awareness that his hopes could be nothing but a flight of fancy. Still, he musters the courage to speak his mind.

"I want you to tell me why. Why me? Why still see me after all this time? What did you expect from coming to see me? What do you want with me? If any of this is real. If... if whatever the fuck we had before was real."

He’s breathless, from suppressed anger, or quiet seething expectation—he doesn’t know. His stomach tenses, hands balled into fists by his sides, mouth dry. 

"Is that what you want? For us to be real?"

It hurts, being asked that. As if Shouyou is a child being indulged.

"Don't you dare treat me like that!" Shouyou hisses, standing to his full height and putting a little distance between them. He will not be humiliated by a stupid Interpol agent playing pretend. If this is really nothing more than a charade, Shouyou is going to end it here and now. "If you came to play hero, I'm not a fool. I asked you a question. A valid question. Do you like me? Yes or no. I don't want your pity, or your cynicism. I'm not a child. Or stupid."

Kageyama’s expression sours, as if he is genuinely confused by Shouyou's impositions and the reasons behind them. He can’t be that dense.

“I never said you were. And I already told you how I feel. If you had listened instead of feeling angry and slighted to the point of deafness you wouldn’t have to ask me that question,” Kageyama says, a smidge of annoyance in his tone.

Shouyou scoffs. This jerk is that dense. “Are you fucking serious right now, Kageyama? You’re the one who fucking lied and used me. You’re the one who decided to end it all, end us before we even started, least of all tried to start. You’re the one who never asked me how I felt because it’s all about you and your…your work and whatever the fuck is convenient for the sake of that.”

He punctuates his words with a finger shoving at Kageyama, one more forceful than the last. Once again, his brain supplies that they’re having this very showy emotional display in public, the whispers and stares less subtle now, the barista at the counter looking warily giving them looks.

But if there’s one thing trauma hasn’t taken from him yet, it’s being stubborn, so he stays resolute and looks at Kageyama unblinking, even if his neck strains from looking up.

Kageyama’s expression remains completely baffled, the wrinkle between his brows deepening. He barely even budges from Shouyou’s assault, catching Shouyou’s hand as he attempts another feeble shove.

“And isn’t that what you wanted? For you to not get involved? With me and my work? You made it quite clear you wanted things to end that night when you—when you asked me to pay.”

Shouyou doesn’t miss the slight falter in Kageyama’s voice at the end and it shouldn’t elicit this fitful flutter of hope in Shouyou’s heart, but it did, and it’s taking a load of his willpower to buffer it down, desist it from manifesting.

But with his hand on Kageyama’s, with his scent and warmth invading his space, and the memories of that passionate night infiltrating his mind, he begins to fray from the seams. Yet still, his stubbornness prevails, and he yanks his hand back from Kageyama’s grip, ignoring the lingering heat branding his wrist.

“I did. But I never said I’m done collecting my dues.”

He searches for defiance in the depths of Kageyama’s sharp, blue eyes, challenging him. Maybe a part of Shouyou demands more confrontation to finally have the catharsis he so desperately needed after months of nursing all this hurt and loneliness that left him even more cracked and broken instead of letting time heal him.

Because what he needs is this, to finally be addressed with plain honesty, devoid of any veiled truth or hindered by circumstances. He demands the truth, and if he’s getting it this way, making a spectacle of himself in front of gawking strangers, then so be it.

Kageyama is the first to break eye contact, sighing as he does. He gestures at the table. “Can we at least sit and talk this out properly?”

Shouyou doesn’t argue; he’s pretty sure the barista is one second away from kicking them out. He sits back in his chair, taking a sip of his now lukewarm coffee. Kageyama is quiet, probably waiting for him, stirring his cup. Only now does Shouyou notice how tired he actually looks, concealed effectively by his striking attractiveness.

Kageyama’s gaze meets him again, so startling that Shouyou jerks a little. Or maybe it’s his nervousness kicking in.

“Again, I’m sorry for lying to you. For using you. And for…hurting you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to make it up to you for all of that. But if you’re suggesting that I atone for them in, uhm, other ways then I—”

“Woah, hold up a minute,” Shouyou cuts in, holding up a hand. “That’s not what I’m suggesting. Although, yes, I did mean it like that that night, but that’s not what I’m asking now. I want you to be honest with me, Kageyama. With your feelings. For me.”

Silence shrouds them, awkward and harsh. Shouyou clears his throat, ignoring the tiny prickle within his chest. “Or lack of it, or whatever. I just want you to tell me the truth.”

“I already did. Or was I not clear enough that you didn’t understand? That was the first time I slipped up on a mission because I let my emotions get the better of me. I’m no stranger to undercover work that requires getting into intimate relationships to maintain my cover and I’ve done it enough to detach myself emotionally. But with you—” he pauses, hand reaching out to entangle his slender fingers over Shouyou’s, lips curving into a ghost of a smile that paints his face in a mix of fondness and melancholia, “—with you, my defenses fall short. I don’t know how you did it, but I gave up trying to understand the logic. For the first time, I felt vulnerable more than I did in any of my missions. For the first time, I wanted to protect someone not because it’s my job but because I care for them. I care for you, Hinata, so much that I am breaking protocol again just so I can see you once more.”

The chatter and the noise of traffic outside drown out as Shouyou processes Kageyama’s entire spiel.

“That’s it? You care for me?” Shouyou chokes out. “Like what, as a friend? A witness? A goddamn—”

“Like the goddamn person that stole my heart.”

That's it. In one fell swoop, with nothing more than an expletive and bare honesty, Kageyama brings down all of Shouyou's defences, his rightful anger, his bleeding heart. There's nothing left but a naked, blatant wish to finally get this man for himself, truly, without artifice. 

They stare at each other, the expression on their faces mirrored, at once inscrutable and so relentlessly vulnerable, each waiting for the other to speak first, to break the tension in the air, lingering with faded hurt and deep regret.

There's silence for a while and it strikes Shouyou that everyone, not just themselves, is holding their breath, that the entire coffee shop is looking at them in expectation, sentient of the battle being fought in their corner. As if they are all spectators to a love story in a novel, with the climax just up ahead, just a few more pages, a couple of well timed lines and expertly crafted words.

The irony of it is what finally breaks Shouyou free of the lasting threads of upset and misery that have mired his life for the past few months, especially since he was freed from the witness program. He is not a pawn in someone's story. He refused to be one when the whole of Kageyama's career was at risk, when their actual lives were on the brink of extinction. He's not about to let a group of nosy gawkers determine the way his new, long term, genuine connection with Kageyama will start.

He stands, picking up his bag and coat. Kageyama looks up at him from where he's still sat at the table, looking in confusion and a little apprehension. 

"Come with me."

Shouyou doesn't say anything else, knows he doesn't need to as he marches right out of the front door, not needing to look back—he can hear the heavy steps following right behind him, the comforting presence of Kageyama at his back. Kageyama doesn't question where they are going, trusts Shouyou enough to simply follow him, and Shouyou takes a little pride and hope in it, in his quiet display of faith. 

It makes his whole body and mind itch with the desire to show the world—but mostly himself—that Kageyama maybe, just maybe really meant what he said, when he told Shouyou he liked him, that he'd put everything in jeopardy out of consideration for how he felt for him. And well, Shouyou is nothing if impulsive still, even if the whole near-death experience has tamed it down a bit. He always aimed high and thought nothing of the consequences until he had to deal with them, so he goes for it—feels for Kageyama's large hand just a little to his right, brushing his side lightly, and grabs it, lacing his stubby fingers into Kageyama's much longer, finer ones.

He does not look up, does not seek to see the effect of his action, still walking determinedly away, towards his tiny student apartment, the new one he got after his contract terminated with his previous one he rented with his friends.

They are still quiet as they walk, Shouyou leading, Kageyama following, willing and trusting, both uncaring of the fact Kageyama is breaching protocol and rules once more. Shouyou wants him home, not out in public. He wants him in the sanctuary of the tiny space he recreated as a strange facsimile of the safe house, with a TV always on with daytime cooking shows, potted plants everywhere, a yoga mat rolled out and ready next to the window that is also a miniscule veranda.

Funny how Shouyou has gotten used to silence. To the many nuances of it, how it varies and adapts from situation to situation. How it's comfortable yet full of nervous expectation right now, wrapping around them like a blanket. It's not a long walk, ten minutes tops, yet it feels neverending. They go up the single metal staircase to the porched area, down the corridor to the penultimate door. 

Shouyou suddenly tenses. He's never brought anyone home before, and even when he was "seeing" Kageyama at the start of their whole ill fated first encounter, the thought never crossed his mind. But now, for this—for an admission that feels like it carries the weight of the universe on it—he wants the intimacy and familiarity it brings. 

Will Kageyama understand his intention, though? The need to burrow in a safe space, rather than a brazen invitation for... sex or whatever?

"Is this where you live?" 

Kageyama's question brings his attention back to the two of them again, standing in front of his 1DK door. 

"Yeah, why?" 

A weird feeling settles in his stomach for all of two minutes as Kageyama looks at him, serious and stern, before a tiny smile relaxes the frowning lines around his eyes and mouth.

"Are you sure about this?" He sounds nervous, unsure of himself, even.

It makes Shouyou wonder what he means—a sudden horrible thought passing through his head that perhaps Kageyama really misunderstood him and assumed Shouyou just wanted a private place for them to fuck—when one long look at Kageyama's face helps Shouyou realise that Kageyama is being thoughtful, and considerate of Shouyou's feelings and position.

Meeting Kageyama has brought Shouyou into all sorts of danger in the past, and Shouyou knows that they're probably being watched right now, their movements tracked and spied on by Kageyama's team. But that is beside the point for Shouyou at this stage. He has known he's under surveillance since he was first released from the safe house, is pretty sure his tiny new apartment is rigged in some way, shape or form. Tsukishima had been decent enough to tell him they would keep an eye on him for a few years just in case a loose strand from their mission caught wind of him and decided to take revenge. He still wants to have this conversation inside, though. 

He wants to know what it feels like to treat Kageyama like a normal date, to invite him home for coffee and dinner, maybe a movie or some dumb TV after. For a quick walk to the konbini late at night for snacks and some beer. Maybe a huddle under the kotatsu if the weather gets cold enough that night.

He just wants Kageyama, the guy he once met at a bar and had a one night stand with; not Kageyama, the Interpol agent.

He wants normalcy. The predictable, almost boring mundaneness of a domestic date. 

"I am. I want to show you my life, before I tell you how I feel."

He opens the door and gestures for Kageyama to enter. The genkan is tiny and leads straight into the miniscule kitchen space, with an adjacent door for the bathroom and toilet. It barely fits both of them as Shouyou takes off his shoes and goes through, into the living space at the back of the apartment, where a cheerful thrill is coming from next to the window.

The little parakeet is as friendly as always, greeting him with little chirrups that cause Shouyou's heart to swell in gratefulness. It's been an invaluable companion in the last few months.

"Hey, how are you?" he murmurs to the bird, before opening its enclosure and allowing it to hop on his shoulder, where it immediately burrows against Shouyou's hair before thrilling a few more soft notes.

Shouyou giggles as the bird nestles further into his hair. For a while, he forgets he's not alone, too amused with his little friend to notice Kageyama awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. He's staring at Shouyou like a lost child, all wide-eyed and curious. Shouyou realizes then that he's not exactly looking at him, but at the bird hopping around his shoulder.

"Do you want to hold him?" he says, scooping the parakeet from within the tangles of his hair to present to Kageyama.

"Uhm, sure."

Shouyou lets the bird hop on Kageyama's waiting palms, who chirps at Kageyama curiously. The way Kageyama's face lights up in wonder and sheer happiness makes him look so innocent, so naive, and it brings a slight squeeze in Shouyou's heart.

"His name is Kage. Uhm, after you."

The sudden admission returns Kageyama's attention to him. "Oh," is all he says, gaze landing back on the parakeet twittering about his open palm, a soft smile painting his face. "Hello, Kage."

The bird lets out a cheerful peep, as if in response. Shouyou has to suppress a laugh at the look of pure delight in Kageyama's sharp features.

"You two play for a while. I'll make some tea."

He doesn't wait for Kageyama to answer as he makes his way to the kitchen, the other man completely taken with the parakeet in his company. Shouyou smiles to himself as he prepares some barley tea and cinnamon cookies Yachi gave him the other day.

When he returns to the living space, a loud laugh escapes from him before he can stop himself. How can he, when the first thing that greets him is this sight of big, towering Kageyama, all hunched down in Shouyou's small apartment, a tiny bird perched atop his raven hair, chittering away.

"He suddenly flew off and landed on my head," Kageyama explains, barely even moving. Shouyou laughs some more. "Stop laughing!"

"He likes you," Shouyou giggles, setting down the tea tray on the coffee table. He takes a small pinch off a cookie, crumbles it between his palm, and as soon as he opens it, the parakeet flies off Kageyama's head and into the waiting treats. "It took him a week to perch himself on my head. It only took ten minutes for you. He must really like you."

"Well, I really like him, too."

The way Kageyama says it, Shouyou knows he's just not talking about Shouyou's pet bird. All of a sudden, he's all too aware of the fact that they're alone, of the reason he bought Kageyama in his home, of the immense 'what now' hanging over them like a storm cloud waiting to unleash a catastrophe. Or a blessing.

"Try this," he hands over the plateful of cookies to Kageyama, who looks at the baked goods as if it's the first time he's ever seen one. “A friend gave them to me. They're homemade and they're really good."

Tentatively, Kageyama takes a cookie. "Hinata—"

"Ah, Kage, that's enough sweets for you. Back in your cage now, you greedy bird," Shouyou prattles away as he gently picks up his pet and returns him to his enclosure, half-deaf to Kageyama's call and partially blind to his anticipating stares.

He doesn't know what he's doing, least of all why he's being such a wuss right now. He's the one who dragged Kageyama here, after making such a scene back at the cafe, and now that he's got Kageyama alone, he decides to act stupid and spineless.

This isn't how it's supposed to go down. He has to walk the talk, he has to reciprocate a semblance of candidness Kageyama has offered him earlier.

So he sits back down, psyches himself up with a deep inhale, and faces Kageyama.

"So," he begins stupidly.

"So," Kageyama echoes back. His blue eyes roam around the apartment before settling back into Shouyou's. "Your apartment looks weirdly familiar. It's almost set like the safe house."

"Because it is set exactly like the safe house," Shouyou admits, then shrugs, "Or as close to it as I can replicate. I mean, it's not as large, that's for sure, and it's just one bedroom, and my TV is not as huge—"

"Shouyou," Kageyama cuts through his rambling, and if he isn't so mightily nervous right now, he would have appreciated more how softly Kageyama says his name, how it just feels right to hear it in his voice. How Kageyama looks at him with such concern, and all at once, it occurs to him how strange it is to fashion his home in the likeness of what was operatively his prison for months.

His suspicions are confirmed when Kageyama follows it up with a disbelieving, "Why?"

Why . It's the same dilemma Shouyou has been mulling over ever since. Why would he willingly do this to himself, to be reminded every day of the trauma, of the hurt and anger, of the fear that inadvertently transformed him personally and emotionally? Why surround torture himself with the things that trigger those painful memories?

The answer, as he has long figured out, is simple.

"Because it's a reminder of your existence. And yes, it is psychotic and unhinged but this is all I can do to preserve that memory. Of our memory. Of the night I felt loved and cared for, even for just a moment, and even if some logical part of me insists that it was all pretend. I didn't care—I still don't. I just want to remain connected to that moment because it's my only way of reprieve and comfort."

"So... you don't hate me? You don't blame me for ruining your life?"

"No, I don't. Yes, you got me involved without my knowledge or agreement, but I was never supposed to learn the truth. And you protected me even when this came at the cost of your life and your career. You still gave me what I wanted and needed even when that meant more complications for you. You went as far as seeking me back today, because you couldn't give up." Shouyou breathes in deeply, closing his eyes briefly before continuing determinedly, "This apartment is my own way of saying I can't let go. I want to be with you. Anyway I can.

"Of course, if that means keeping our relationship hidden I will try to understand that, but I'd really rather not if at all possible. I want to be able to have you by my side when I go out with my friends. I want you to meet my mother and my sister. I really, really want you to come and spend New Years with me at Kenma & Kuroo's house. I want all the things we were denied of at the beginning. I want to start afresh."

The plea that follows is mumbled so quietly he's afraid Kageyama might not pick up on it. 

"Please."

He's on the verge of tears, the desperation so heavy and overpowering that he has to rub a palm over his chest to subdue the pain. He doesn't care one bit that he sounds and looks pathetic—he never wants for something more than this need to have this man in front of him.

The silence only brings more painful torture for him, especially with unreadable Kageyama's expression is—it's like this whole mix of shock, pleased, and apprehensive all at once.

"You don't know what you're asking, Hinata," Kageyama finally says, his tone just as confusing, all hushed, as if the statement is directed at himself instead of Shouyou.

"I know exactly what I'm asking," Hinata insists, exasperation now mixing in with the desperation, the prickle of impending tears getting harder and harder to contain, "I already told you. I want to be with you."

"And I do, too!"

The sudden rise in Kageyama's voice takes Shouyou off guard, but what really shocks him is to see Kageyama's usual rigid and aloof facade crumble into this display of frustration.

Then he sighs, deep and heavy, as he runs a hand through his hair, eyes pinched closed. When he opens them, his gaze lands on Shouyou first, expression now mellowed. He scoots closer and tenderly closes his hands around Shouyou's, thumbs stroking through his knuckles. When he speaks again, it's uncharacteristically quiet...and sad.

"God knows how much I fucking want that. All of it. Meeting your family, your friends, attending New Year parties or—or whatever. But I'm not the kind of guy fit for those things. You've seen how much danger there is in my line of work. Not just for myself but for the people around me. We got lucky in your case as a witness and we're trying our best to keep you safe until we complete tying up loose ends."

Shouyou winces when Kageyama's gentle hold on him suddenly turns into a tight squeeze.

"But you have no idea—you have no idea how dangerous it is getting involved with a person like me. You want to know why Tsukishima was so upset when he found out about my 'failed' plan?" When Shouyou shakes his head, Kageyama continues, "Because he knows the consequences of involving a loved one in our job. I can't—I can't just knowingly rope you in knowing what those consequences are."

A knot forms in Shouyou's stomach at the sight of palpable distress in Kageyama, the way his stare lowers to their linked hand, the way his hold on Shouyou tightens as if it's the last time he'll ever hold it. As if he's saying goodbye.

Shouyou is not allowing that. Not again.

"Do you honestly think I haven't thought this through? I told you, stop treating me like a child." The sharpness of incredulity in his voice snaps Kageyama's gaze back at him, and his forlorn expression makes Shouyou a bit guilty for snapping, so he smiles, easing Kageyama's iron grip on his hand, sliding their fingers between each other's. A perfect fit.

"I know exactly what I'm getting into. And I do not care. Call me selfish and stubborn, but don't act as if you didn't already know that about me. I want you, Kageyama. Even if it costs me everything."

He doesn't really know who moves first, and frankly, he's not the least bit interested in knowing. All he cares about is savoring every bit of Kageyama's taste in his mouth as his lips are suddenly claimed, the warmth and possessive touch of his large, rough hands over his cheeks, his evergreen scent that sends his senses into overdrive. It's like his body has finally been given the needed sustenance to continue living, releasing a collective sigh at this grant of reprieve.

But as soon as it’s granted to him, he’s deprived of it once again when Kageyama suddenly pulls away. He looks…shocked, with his navy blue eyes wide, glossy lips slacked, as if he’s completely unaware of what he just did. His hold on Shouyou’s face doesn’t falter, though, slender fingers dimpling his skin.

“You want me, too,” Shouyou whispers, speaking the words into existence from what they both already understand.

Kageyama scoffs, but it’s the amused kind. He leans forward, touching his forehead against Shouyou. The pull of those deep blue eyes are magnetizing, as if they’re demanding Shouyou’s very existence.

“I do,” Kageyama whispers back, breath billowing over Shouyou’s lips. “I want you so much. So, so much.”

Shouyou finally releases all the chains keeping his self-restraint together as he closes the minuscule gap between their lips.

“I am already yours to begin with.”

Six months later

Shouyou dials down the stove to a low simmer, the smell of curry wafting in the air. The rice has been cooked and is properly warmed in the cooker. The six-pack beer he bought before coming home is cooled in the fridge, along with the small chocolate mousse cake Yachi made for the occasion.

He eyes the fridge, hesitates, then hastily opens it to check on said goods, just in case. As he had done so for the last six instances.

The cake is enclosed in a simple box, wrapped in a satin blue ribbon. The top is a cut-out and Shouyou peeks through the transparent cover to inspect the contents. He can just make out the  pretty cursive of frosting spelling out ‘Happy Birthday.’

It’s the first proper occasion he’ll be spending with his boyfriend since they got together and Shouyou is barely able to keep his excitement at bay, manifesting in a form of a giddy shiver.

He resumes his preparations, although there’s not much else left to prepare. His apartment is spotless, save for the streamer he had meticulously put up. It’s a bit wonky, but whatever, he is not about to wrestle with that damn thing again after he landed on his butt trying to string it up.

A series of tuneful chirps interrupts his thoughts, and he grins as he walks up to his pet bird’s enclosure, reaching out a knuckle through the metal bars. Kage gently nips at his skin with his beak, nudges and rubs it with his small head for a while, before hopping around as it lets out excited trilling noises.

Shouyou laughs. “You’re excited, too, huh?” The parakeet answers with a high-pitched chirp, flitting around its cage even more frantically. “Alright, alright, calm down. He’s gonna be here soon.”

As if on cue, or maybe it was the bird’s way of telling Shouyou ‘he’s already here, idiot,’ he hears the front door click open, followed by the deep voice calling out, “I’m home.”

Shouyou thrills at the sound. It's still one of his favourite things in the whole world—the way that voice resonates inside him, makes him feel safe and sound immediately upon hearing it. 

He sprints to the genkan to see Kageyama slipping his feet into the comfy house slippers Shouyou had bought for him as a surprise present shortly after they'd moved in together. As always, they look good on him, like everything else. 

He'd look perfect with nothing on but the slippers , Shouyou daydreams for a second, before chasing the naughty thoughts out of his head. It's not as if he's never seen his boyfriend naked by now, and if allows himself to indulge in such fantasies, there will be no party for anybody. 

“Welcome home!” he says instead, going for a welcome kiss with a bright grin on his face. Kageyama smiles back as he leans down, meeting him in the middle. 

It's sweet and quick, none of Shouyou's buzzing energy coming through, much to his pride. He can be calm and collected when he wants to. He just doesn't see the need most of the time. Even though he wants to kiss Kageyama’s handsome face off. It’s been two weeks and three days since they’ve last seen each other, with Kageyama off to do his top-secret, dangerous job.

It’s not as bad, not unlike before when they just started dating, officially , when Kageyama would go off the grid for weeks, even months , leaving Shouyou haunted by rabid thoughts of worry and anxiety. He knew what he was going into—they both do—and they both accepted the compromises and risks this relationship would entail, but it doesn’t make the whole thing shitty at first.

But after adjusting and settling, dating Kageyama is the best thing Shouyou could’ve asked for. The days and weeks apart is incomparable to the time they are back together. Each second is treated like an eternity, every hour a thread to weave their own version of forever.

He loves Kageyama, and he’s sure Kageyama loves him, too. The sentiment has not been said in actual words, but Shouyou feels it, believes in its certainty. There’s no rush to say them when the feeling speaks louder than words ever could.

“Smells amazing in here,” Kageyama says, nose wrinkling as he takes a sniff.

“Ahh, it’s almost done! Go change then we’ll eat!”

He ushers Kageyama inside, straight to the bedroom, hoping he won’t notice the big, shiny, ‘Happy Birthday’ streamer smack in the middle of the living room. He doesn’t, thankfully, but it’s hilarious to think that scary, secret agent Kageyama Tobio fails to notice such a conspicuous display, but then again, he probably forgot it’s his birthday today.

He’s such an idiot and Shouyou loves him all the more for it.

He returns to the stove and to stirring the simmering pot again. Ten minutes later and he hears Kageyama emerge from the bedroom, slippers padding across the floor. Shouyou feels strong arms wrap around his shoulders. chin settling on the crook of his neck, leaning to sniff at the aroma wafting from the curry, humming low in contentment. 

“Smells good. Is that what I think it is?” 

Kageyama smells infinitely better, all powdery and fresh from his shower, and it’s making Shouyou dizzy with want.

Later , he scolds himself mentally. He settles by giving Kageyama’s cheek a little peck.

“Mmm-hmm, what do you think?”

“You only make curry for special occasions.”

Shouyou giggles. This man is so unbearably cute. “What do you think is the special occasion?”

“My birthday.”

Shouyou laughs. “Oh, so you do remember! You’re not so much of an idiot, huh?”

“The big ass ‘Happy Birthday’ in the living room was a dead giveaway, dumbass.”

“Ah, well, surprise?”

There’s no cheeky comeback, only this gentle squeeze on Shouyou’s hand, long fingers sliding in between his, making him drop the ladle he’s been using to stir the curry. He looks at Kageyama, just as his boyfriend cups his chin to capture his lips. Shouyou gives in immediately, flinging his arms around Kageyama’s neck to kiss him properly, to taste him, finally , after days of deprivation and longing that no amount of ‘getting used to’ will ever assuage. 

“I miss you,” Shouyou whispers between their kiss.

Another chaste, soft kiss before Kageyama responds, the taste of it just as sweet as his lips. “Miss you, too.”

A few more pecks in between pot stirring and taste-testing and their dinner is ready. Shouyou is adamant to go through with his surprise, so he herded Kageyama back in the bedroom, much to his boyfriend’s fake-annoyed grumbling.

It is worth it, though, when he sees the genuine delight in Kageyama’s face, features morphing into something soft, like stone-cold ice melting. Shouyou’s heart melts along with him, a starburst of warmth exploding in his chest as he sings Kageyama ‘Happy birthday,’ cake in hand, as Kageyama kisses him again and again and again, with whispers of ‘thank you’ in between, as he watches Kageyama close his eyes as he makes a wish and blows out his candles.

“Now you close your eyes,” Kageyama tells him.

“Huh? Why?”

“Just close your eyes, Shou.”

There’s impatience in his tone, but there’s also this glimpse of giddiness under it, his lips curling into this wobbly sort-of smile that Kageyama doesn’t even realize he’s doing whenever he gets excited. It’s adorable.

And who is Shouyou to deprive his adorable boyfriend of his weird request?

So he does as he’s told, rolling his eyes first before closing them. He hears Kageyama get off the couch, the sound of his feet padding across the carpeted floor tapering. Not a minute too late and he comes scampering back.

“Okay, now you can open them.”

“You are so weird,” Shouyou teases as he opens his eyes. The first thing he sees is white, taking a moment to realize that it’s paper—an envelope, to be exact, thrusted right under his nose.

When he doesn’t do anything, Kageyama waves the paper, shoving it closer to Shouyou’s face. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Open it, dumbass! Obviously!”

“How is that obvious?”

“What do you do with envelopes, then?”

“Take it and shove it up assholes’ ass hole!”

“Just take it and open it!” Kageyma roars in demand.  Then all the fight dispersed out of him and what remains is this vision of subtle imploring, brows wrinkled, not of annoyance but of worry, lips pouting childishly. Kageyama looks almost…desperate. “Please, Shou, just open it.”

It washes out the fight out of Shouyou, too, and he gingerly takes the envelope from Kageyama’s hand. He begins to undo the flap, then stops, a sudden wave of fear rendering him numb.

What if this is Kageyama’s way of breaking up with him? All too formal, on paper, as if terminating some sort of contract. Or even worse—what if it’s a letter detailing how everything is still a cover-up, that Shouyou is, once again, just a pawn in this dangerous game that is Kageyama’s life? What if Osipov wasn’t really apprehended and Kageyama only agreed to be in a relationship with him just to keep an eye on him? What if this is all just a big, elaborate ruse, as it has been right from the start?

No way to find out except to unearth the contents of the envelope in his hands. The truth won’t change either way, and if this is really the end then prolonging the agony won’t do anyone good.

So with trembling hands, he slips out the folded piece of paper out of the envelope, avoiding Kageyama’s intent gaze as he does. He unfolds the paper, heartbeat thundering as it reveals the Interpol’s header and logo, and just below that, he reads ‘Resignation Letter’ in bold, all-caps typeface.

“Uhm,” Shouyou mumbles stupidly, not really sure how to respond with the multitude of emotions storming inside him. “I don’t understand…”

“Read it, dumbass,” Kageyama tells him.

Shouyou does, eyes glazing through the words, reading, but their meaning does not quite register completely into his zone of comprehension.

“I don’t understand,” he says again. He sounds and and feels stupid, because there’s no way he just read the letter in his hands right. “You’re retiring?”

Kageyama nods. He’s looking at Shouyou all bright-eyed, as if he’s expecting Shouyou to react profusely other than this dumbfounded look he’s giving him.

“Why?” he asks and his confusion must’ve finally gotten into Kageyama because he quirks up a brow, as if it’s weird for Shouyou to even ask for the reason.

“What do you mean ‘why?’ ”

“I mean why are you retiring all of a sudden?”

Kageyama face scrunches, confused. “Because of you , dumbass!”

“ Ha?! Why me?” Shouyou screeches, then he blanches. “Don’t tell me…you’re compromised…because of me…”

“What? No! Nothing like that!” Kageyama’s hand closes over Shouyou’s, gently prying it off the crumpled paper. “I did it because I want to be with you more.”

“But—But you love being an agent! I can’t take that away from you!” he argues, ignoring the way his heart trembles in response to Kageyama’s reasoning, pushing that giddy feeling aside to make way for rational, logical thoughts.

It doesn’t help, however, when Kageyama edges closer as he palms Shouyou’s cheek with his hand, and Shouyou is only too weak not to lean to the warmth of his touch, at the gentle way he caresses his skin. Then he smiles, midnight blue eyes gazing fondly at Shouyou than it ever did before. “You’re not taking away anything because I love being with you more. I love you more.”

And Shouyou can’t keep it in any longer, surrendering himself to the tidal wave of feelings causing up a storm within him, letting it drown him and overcome him.

“Tobio…” Shouyou breathes in a shaky whisper. Warm tears drop down his cheeks, pushed out by the upsurge of feelings he has nurtured for long. “I love you, too.”

The last syllable barely leaves his lips when another claims it. It’s soft and decadent and infinitely better than the thousand kisses they’ve shared before. It’s full of unspoken adoration, of shared promises, of undeniable love . 

Shouyou is still crying when they part, face a complete mess, tears replacing the ones Kageyama is brushing away.

“Dumbass, why are you crying,” he says with a playful smirk. “Did you like my surprise that much?”

“Jerk,” Shouyou half-jeers, half-sobs, before clambering to push his snotty face on Kageyama’s chest, hugging him tight. “I wanted to say that for so long.”

Kageyama embraces him back just as tightly. “Me, too.”

Shouyou relishes in Kageyama’s touch and warmth for a while before he slowly entangles himself so he can look up at his boyfriend. “Are you really sure you want to retire? You don’t have to sacrifice your job for my sake. We’re making it work, aren’t we?”

“I want more,” Kageyama tells him, large hands coming up to cradle his face. “I want to properly date you. Be with you. Celebrate every occasion and holiday with you. Take you out on proper dates. I just…want to do more with you. And this is cheesy as hell, but fuck it, I want to grow old with you.”

Never in Shouyou’s life did he imagine he would someday experience what he could only describe as something straight out of a movie. A powerful mafia, a secret agent, and the unsuspecting character who unfortunately got caught in the middle of the crossfire. To say that it upended his life would be an extreme understatement, but the universe really does have a sick sense of humor for using that whole ordeal as an avenue to give him trauma that could last a lifetime and gifting him happiness so pure and inexpressible he almost feels undeserving of it.

But it is his, and if the universe is generous enough to give him the opportunity to make it permanent with the only man who could grant him that happiness, then who is he to refuse.

“That gives you enough time to pay your dues then,” Shouyou says. He’s attempting to be cheeky, but his own giddiness gets the best of him, lips smiling uncontrollably wide.

Kageyama’s smile is just as giddy, just as dumb, and he kisses Shouyou the same way he did when they shared their first kiss all those months ago.

“All my life, if needed.”