Archive of Our Own

The thing about Asahi, if Noya were pressed, is that he’s huge. Not that you’d know it from the way he carries himself; in daily life, his smiles are nervous, bows apologetic, and he tucks his knees under his tiny desk like an ostracized transfer student. But get him on the court and he grows; his arms lengthen, legs stretch, and he revivifies to the monolith rival teams have learned, rightly, to fear. If the conditions are right, Asahi Azumane embodies the perfect athlete; if they’re not, he’s not so much Karasuno’s mighty oak as he is its blushing dandelion.

It’s infuriating.

Noya watches this phenomenon occur on a daily basis: a strong, capable Asahi reduced to a shivering mess of nerves like a balloon released before tied, air bleeding out in an embarrassing raspberry. Then gaining confidence again, eyes firm and clear—before dropping like magnets to a car hood, broad shoulders curled and bashful. What Asahi doesn’t seem to realize is that he is amazing—in literally every way. Surely if he knew that much, he’d have no reason to let that scruffy chin drop a notch. But the more Noya tries to drive home how amazing he is, the smaller Asahi seems to want to package himself, his face a raw pink, hands sweaty and fumbling over each other.

Which is a problem, seeing as Noya likes it when Asahi embodies the perfect athlete. That is to say, confident. And huge.

It’s really for Asahi’s sake, Noya tells himself firmly as he marvels at the flex of Asahi’s thighs, the hollow of his knees before a jump. If Asahi gains confidence, he’ll be able carry himself in a way befitting his muscled shoulders and stomach that looks like it was imprinted from a mold and that is mercifully exposed as Asahi wipes his face on his shirt. And if he carries himself properly (Noya tilts his head) then his opportunities in life will surely increase, because the way he stretches his arms and shakes his wrists and rubs the back of his sweaty neck is a really great…really a great…well, it’s just really great, Noya decides. And the whole world should acknowledge it.

It’s not like Noya is totally obsessed with Asahi or anything. Or like through some brilliant stroke of fortune he’s managed to convince Asahi that dating would be a great idea and that now he possesses a monopoly on the firm pressure of long fingers laced through his and the scratch of stubble against his chin. Or like he’s been having vivid, fantastical dreams about Asahi taking full advantage of his mammoth stature.

It’s not for selfish reasons at all. Really.

When he describes his dream, Asahi predictably colors out to his ears.

“Oh,” he says with a breathless chuckle. They’re lying side-by-side on Asahi’s rumpled bed, Noya’s head propped on the crook of Asahi’s elbow.

“Right?” Noya laughs, still punch-drunk. “It was intense. Amazing, actually.”

“Does that,” Asahi pauses, his index finger lightly tracking the contour of a bruise on Noya’s arm. “Do you…like that kind of stuff?”

Noya laughs again, his voice low and foreign to him. Since when did he ever talk about stuff like this?

Since your life got awesome, his internalized Ryuu reminds him and Noya grins. “Yeah, I. Uh. I guess. I mean, I’ve never…I’ve only ever thought about it. And, uh, dreamed about it.”

Asahi is quiet for a long while, tracing feather-light loops down the many badges of honor Noya sports on his wiry arms. The slow trace and the smell of Asahi all around him makes Noya’s chest tighten and melt all at once. He won’t deny it – he has it bad for Karasuno’s ace.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Asahi says finally.

Noya cranes his head up to see Asahi staring resolutely at his wrist, which he has cradled gently in one large hand. Asahi’s other hand counts bruises.

“Asahi-san.”

His brown eyes reluctantly lift, and they are the color of wood, of the warmest, sweetest chocolate.

“You won’t,” Noya says, and he means it with his whole heart. “You can’t. Not in a million years. Not even if you tried.”

Asahi’s laugh is one Noya knows not to trust, so he plows on before Asahi’s self-deprecation can insert itself between them. “Look,” he says, “you don’t have to worry, is what I’m saying. Even if you did hurt me – somehow – though I really doubt you would – so what? I’m tough, aren’t I?”

“…You are,” says Asahi, and the soft fondness in his eyes is almost enough for Noya to call this whole talking thing quits and start making out with him again.

“There you go,” Noya says, exerting self-control by snatching up Asahi’s roving hand. “So you shouldn’t worry about it. I’m tough and can deal with much worse than my big, bad, glass-hearted boyfriend.”

Asahi flushes, insists that he doesn’t want to be anything “worse” or “bad,” and Oh well, Noya thinks as he kisses Asahi silent, maybe it’ll happen one day. In the meantime, he has a lot to feel thankful for. Quite literally.

Noya lets the fantasy lie and he and Asahi enjoy their comfortable routine of lazy Sunday afternoons and weeknight study sessions. Noya isn’t a poor student, but Asahi is older and wiser and a year ahead and even hotter when he’s wearing his reading glasses – or when Noya steals them off him – and much more relaxed when it’s after practice and they’ve both showered and Noya is straddling his lap, face gathered in his hands and kissing him so slowly, in a way that stirs that groan from the pit of Asahi’s stomach and, okay, so maybe they tend to get distracted. But it’s a matter of pride between them both that their relationship negatively affects neither their schoolwork nor their teamwork. So no harm done.

At least, not until the infamous Day That Everything Sucked.

“It must be a full moon,” Tanaka grumbles as they all run penalty laps after the first set of their practice match. Noya grunts and tries not to glare openly at their coach. He’d blame the unpleasantness of practice on Ukai and his own obviously shitty mood if the whole day – from morning practice to now – hadn’t been an absolute train wreck. Tanaka’s theory of celestial involvement seems more probable; after all, what else could explain why Yamaguchi keeps tripping over his own feet; why Tsukishima can’t serve a ball in-bounds; and why Tanaka keeps spiking directly to Daichi, no matter where he stands on the court? Hinata has already tumbled into the net trying to spike a poor toss from Suga, which made Kageyama lose his cool to a degree that forced Noya and Ennoshita to separate the first years, who looked ready to either cry or rip out each other’s teeth. Needless to say, something is in the air – some maleficent energy that can’t even be assuaged by Take-chan or Kiyoko-san, both of whom are missing due to conflicting obligations. It’s just a limping Karasuno and their irate coach, who is taking after his grandfather in all the wrong ways.

“What the hell was that, Azumane?” he demands as Asahi’s spike slams off Tsukishima’s palms. “He’s a first year! You should be blasting his arms off, not playing catch!”

Noya is still picking himself up after a failed recovery, but as soon as he catches the word “sorry” escape Asahi’s lips, something snaps between his ears.

“You know, Coach,” Noya says loudly, “I think we’re all just having a rough day.”

He knows he’s made a mistake the second he says it, but the poisonous atmosphere in this gym is enough to make him crazy for a fight. And as Ukai narrows his gaze on him, Noya realizes he’s going to get it.

“You think?” Ukai repeats as though Noya is some pimply first-year from a rival team come to give his expert opinion. “I frankly don’t care what you think, Nishinoya. But I know you don’t want to interrupt me again.”

Noya frowns. “I was just saying,” he repeats flatly, “we’re all just trying to do our best out here, so don’t—”

“Excuse me?”

The gym stills in an instant, the squeak of sneakers and movement muted as though on switch. Noya can feel the acidic bite of energy sluicing from his stomach to the back of his throat. “What?” he snaps. Tanaka hustles up behind him.

“Noya-san,” he mutters, not a little panicked, “maybe you should—”

“Are you actually telling me what to do?” Ukai is two paces away from throttling a high-schooler, and suddenly Take-chan’s absence is not only palpable, but worrying. Take-chan might not know anything about volleyball, but he knows how to calm nerves — which are starting to run painfully high.

Noya says, “I’m just saying it wouldn’t kill you to cut us some slack!” at the same time Ryuu plants a hand on his shoulder and overrides him. “Nope! Not at all. We were just going back to the match weren’t we, Noya-san?”

“I’m here to coach you,” Ukai says, still fighting Noya’s glare with eyes that could kill a bashful Asahi at thirty paces. “Not to hold your hands. If your ace can’t spike past a first-year, we all have a problem. I’m fixing that problem.”

“How does yelling at Asahi-san fix anything?” Noya demands.

“What, are you his keeper?” Ukai snaps. “It has nothing to do with you.”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Noya snarls, and Tanaka’s hand digs into his shoulder as Suga shouts from across the gym, “Noya, stop!”

“Oh!” Ukai laughs humorlessly, folding his arms. “Because it’s Azumane, right? Cute.”

“What did you—?!”

“Noya!”

“I’ll tell you something, Nishinoya,” Ukai continues, lip curling. “If you spent half the time training that you do mooning over your ace, you’d have picked up that last ball and maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place!”

“E-excuse me,” Asahi says from somewhere behind Noya, “but that isn’t—”

“If that’s what it is, then yell at me!” Noya shouts, blood pulsing thick at his temples, his hands balled into fists. “If that was my miss, then yell at me, don’t blame Asahi for my—”

“Noya,” Asahi says hurriedly, “it wasn’t your—”

“Are you still ordering me around, Nishinoya?” Ukai snaps.

“I’m just not standing for you bullying my team!”

“Bullying your team?!” Ukai laughs.“I’m trying to talk to your ace, and you’re losing your shit!”

“You weren’t talking! You were—”

“Oh for—You think you’re helping?! You think Azumane needs you to be his...his yappy little shih tzu?!”

Something wordless rips from Noya’s throat, vision blurring with rage, but before he can take so much as a step forward, Tanaka’s solid elbows are hooked under his armpits and Noya is being hauled bodily away from Ukai. Daichi is shouting after them, while Suga’s low voice whirs apologies like an oscillating fan and – yes – there’s Asahi beside him, apologizing, bowing. Shrinking.

Noya’s so angry he’s nauseous, and so nauseous he wants to cry.

“FUCK!”

“Noya-san, cool it already,” Tanaka mumbles in his ear. He deposits him outside, slides the heavy door shut behind them, and folds in half with a sigh, hands braced on his knees. “Fucking full moon.”

Nishinoya drops to the ground, raking his fingers through his hair and pulling hard. The pain keeps his eyes from watering – or makes them water – he can’t tell what he’s going for.

“Fuck,shit,fuck,goddammit.”

“You and me both, partner.” Ryuu stares at him. “Shih tzu.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

At least when Tanaka laughs, it’s contagious.

They sit outside for the rest of practice, making up worst-case scenarios for what’s going on inside. Probably Ukai has them all playing the rest of the match naked. Anyone who flubs their serve gets their knees broken. Anyone who misses a receive gets set on fire. The grim probability of such a scenario is only reinforced by Hinata’s long, tearful wail.

Noya’s stomach sinks as the caustic wave of rage drains from his body. Now he just feels like an idiot. An idiot who’s sitting out here pouting instead of toughing it out alongside his friends. But rejoining the fray would mean facing Ukai again, and it’s too soon. Better to play it safe than suspended. Again.

“Why’d he have to say it like that?” Noya mutters, chucking a pebble across the dirty yard. “Like I’m an asshole for trying to stick up for my friends.”

“Trying to stick up for Asahi-san,” Ryuu corrects him, grinning apologetically. “Not that you wouldn’t stick your neck out for any one of us,” he adds quickly. “I know that. Everyone knows that. But. You know. It’s Asahi-san.”

Noya scowls. “Yeah?” he mutters, scraping his heels against the dusty ground. “So I like him a lot, so what?”

“So nothing,” Tanaka says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s good, man. I’m happy for you. I remember you said it wouldn’t get in the way of practice and stuff and it hasn’t. So. Actually, I think Asahi’s gotten a little more confident since the two of you have started. You know.” He grins wolfishly. “Doing whatever it is you two do.”

Noya smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know. Card games and charades.”

“Wholesome family fun.”

“Exactly.”

“So it’s whatever, man,” Ryuu shrugs. “Today just sucks. I mean, I have never seen Ukai this pissy in my life. Not even after the Great Firework Debacle of last summer.” (Noya winces. Sometimes, late at night, he can still hear the screaming….) “So who the fuck knows what’s going on?”

“Full moon,” Noya echoes hollowly.

“Full moon, buddy. Like—like we had a pop quiz in history today – which I decidedly failed – and that never happens.”

“What are you talking about?” Noya mumbles. “You always fail shit.”

“What a prince!” Tanaka hooks Noya’s neck and drags him in for a noogie.

“Ow, ow, I was kidding, kidding,” Noya fights him off, grinning despite himself. “I…forgot to bring my lunch?” he admits in recompense. “And then all they had left at the school store was plum rice balls. Which sucked.”

“Right? Today is just fucked, I’m tellin’ ya. Like, you remember when they tried their freak-attack this morning? I thought Kageyama must’ve been hung-over or something. That ball was out of the park.”

“On my way to school, a cat gave me the stink-eye.” Noya shrugs. “I mean. Maybe not weird for a cat. And I don’t, like, care. But. Just wasn’t very nice.”

“Cats don’t like dogs, yo. That’s why.”

Noya punches his arm.

“Ow! Hahaha, oh, no, wait—I mean, today was weird, but maybe not so bad. After all, this morning Kiyoko-san actually smiled at me—”

“Whatthe—” Noya almost startles to his feet. “No way! Bullshit!”

“Hahaha, yeah, yeah, it’s bullshit. I’m shittin’ you.” Tanaka grins and ruffles Noya’s hair. “Today’s a straight wash. Nobody’s fault. So don’t let it get to you, okay?”

Noya manages a non-committal nod. He should really just listen to Ryuu and chalk it up to bad astrology, but even so – he can’t get the sound of Asahi’s apology out of his ears.

“I made him apologize,” Noya blurts. The slowly dying sun is hotter than expected and he drags the back of his wrist over his forehead and down to his eyes. “That—he wouldn’t have had to do that if I had just…not been an idiot and kept my mouth shut. What the fuck was I even doing?”

“What? Asahi-san? Dude, your man apologizes for everything. When he gets incorrect change, he apologizes for pointing it out. When people bump into him in the hall, he apologizes for taking up space. No man alive can stop Asahi Azumane from apologizing. It’s his biological imperative.”

“That—” Sweat is burning against his eyes. “But he shouldn’t feel like he has to, you know? And that dickhead Ukai made him feel like he had to, and then I—I just made it worse, and—”

“Whoa, whoa, Noya-san,” Tanaka says, shaking him by the shoulder. “You’re getting all full-moon on me, dude. Just like—breathe, or something, okay? It’s all right.”

“I’m fine,” Noya insists loudly. He shakes his head, scrubs the sweat off his face with his shirt and huffs a sigh. “I’m fine,” he repeats, more convincingly. “I just. Ugh. Why’d he have to say that shit?”

“Because Coach is old and no longer recognizes the passions of youth,” Ryuu intones and Noya elbows him in the stomach. “Ow! Dick. That’s how you repay me for being your most ultimate wingman?”

“Sorry,” Noya says, and he means it. “You are the most ultimate wingman.”

“Damn straight.”

“If Asahi-san had a hot sister, I’d set you two up.”

Ryuu presses a hand tenderly to his heart. “Sentiment appreciated.”

A whistle screeches through the gym, and Noya and Ryuu exchange a glance.

“You blowing?” Noya asks.

“Nah man,” Ryuu says. “Gotta help clean up or be set on fire.”

Noya considers the battered, steel door. “I think…I don’t trust myself.”

“Then go home.” Tanaka stands, brushing off his gym shorts. “Actually, please go home. As a favor to me. I’m getting too old to be breaking up your fights, Noya-san.”

“We’re the same age.”

“Na-ah, I’m seven months older!” Ryuu says. “And those seven months’ll age you, let me just say.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, I can’t go home yet; I’m going to Asahi’s tonight.”

Ryuu bites his bottom lip, body as forgiving as limp pasta, wrists dainty as a schoolgirl’s. He emits a high, wavering tone of mockery that Noya lunges to pants him for, but Tanaka evades him skillfully.

“Well then,” Ryuu says with the hushed scandal of a gossiping housewife, “why don’t you just hide out here and wait for your lover boy so you can go back to your love nest and get all lovey-dovey later!”

“Yeah, maybe I will!” Noya laughs, face blazing. Ryuu’s a great guy. Even when he wants to strangle him. “Hey, Ryuu.”

Tanaka turns back. Daichi counts for the stretches, the team calling back in exhausted monotone.

“Thanks.”

Still in housewife-mode, Tanaka bats his eyelashes, covering his lips with his hand. But Noya catches his grin as he disappears behind the sliding door.

Noya traipses back to the clubroom and changes into his sweats while the rest of the team cleans up the gym. He stretches out in the deep shadows of the clubhouse stairwell, the sun well on its way to set by the time the gym doors slide open again. Noya ducks out of sight as his teammates filter out, mentally cataloging them. None look particularly singed, but that’s about all the good that can be said. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima head off in empty silence while Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita exchange weak, exhausted nothings. Suga and Daichi are talking low and fast, Asahi trailing in their wake like a silent, obedient thoroughbred. He swings his gaze from side to side, looking—

For me, Noya realizes, his heart thumping. The impulse to break from his hiding place and bowl Asahi over with the force of a million men is overwhelming, but he clenches his fist and retreats a pace. Not yet. Not while the rest of his team is here. And certainly not while that assface Ukai is still in the gym.

Tanaka pops through the open doors, takes a wild look around the empty yard, then calls for Asahi. Their exchange is quick and too far for Noya to hear, but it involves Tanaka grinning rakishly and flapping his elbows a lot. Asahi rubs the back of his neck, laughs, says, “Thanks, Tanaka,” and it’s true – Ryuu really is the most ultimate wingman ever. Noya’ll have to thank him later.

Kageyama and Hinata are the last members to emerge from the yellow mouth of the gym, their faces taut and grief-struck. Noya grimaces in sympathy; Hinata is shaking his head, scrubbing his face with the back of his wrist and settling his fists resolutely at his side. He’s not aware of Kageyama’s gaze, quiet and critical, like he’s placing a toss. A hand lifts – hovers in indecision – before it falls lightly on Hinata’s shoulder and smoothes an awkward line across his back, like Kageyama is recreating a description of comfort he once read in a magazine. Hinata is too sunk in his own self-frustration to notice, but Noya doesn’t miss the way Kageyama’s thumb pauses on the nape of Hinata’s neck, before withdrawing too quickly.

Ukai comes out last, turning out the lights and locking the door. Noya squats in the shadows and glowers.

The turnaround in the clubroom is remarkably fast tonight, and before Noya knows it, he’s hearing the third years clatter down the metal stairs above him.

“You really don’t have to take that tack with him,” Suga reassures. “He’ll do what he needs to. You know that.”

“I still can’t believe him,” Daichi says, and Noya can picture him pushing stress lines from his forehead. “I can’t believe any of it. What a shitty day.”

“Yes,” Suga laughs. “It was. A shitty, shitty day.”

Noya doesn’t think he’s ever heard Suga swear before. It’s kind of beautiful, really.

“Oh! I, uh,” Asahi says, “I think I may have left something in the—”

“Save it, Asahi,” Daichi says wearily.

“We know you’re waiting for Noya,” Suga says. “Seriously, after all this time, you could stand to be more up front about it.”

“Ah.” Noya grins into his fist; he can practically feel Asahi’s blush from here. “Well then. I, uh. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Later,” Daichi says.

“When you do see Noya,” Suga says loudly (nothing escapes that guy, Noya swears), “tell him we’re all expecting a fantastic apology to Coach tomorrow. And tell him what Coach said too.”

“Ahh. Right. I will.”

“Cool. Well, goodnight, Asahi!” Noya watches Suga clap Daichi on the back as they trail away. “So? Tell me about Michimiya, then.”

Daichi’s groan is drowned in his palms. “I hate myself, Suga.”

“There, there. I’m sure she hates you too.”

Noya scratches his head as he steps out of the shadows and into the patchy moonlight. He takes a cursory glance at the sky—

“Aww, are you kidding me?!”

Asahi turns from where he’s been loitering at the foot of the stairs. Noya points.

“It’s not even full!”

“What?” Asahi looks up at the bloated, banana-like moon in confusion.

“Ryuu was saying it was probably a full moon,” Noya explained, closing distance. “Seeing as today sucked and everything.”

“I see.”

“Should we go?” Noya shrugs his bag across his shoulders. He’s ready for this day to be over.

“Wait. Noya.”

Asahi grabs his arm. Noya stares up at him, Asahi’s expression thrown into shadow by the ugly-ass banana-moon. The ace opens his mouth, trying for words and failing and Noya can feel the aftertaste of poison on the back of his tongue. What? he thinks not a little viciously. Just say it, Asahi. Whatever it is.

Asahi swallows, and just as Noya is about to break free from his grip in misplaced irritation, he cups his hand against Noya’s face. His palm is warm, rough with callouses, and Noya wants so badly to just nuzzle into it like a cat, kiss his wrist and hand and fingertips and—

You think Azumane needs you to be his...his yappy little shih tzu?!

Noya swallows. Gently pulls Asahi’s hand away.

“We should go,” he says, his voice low.

Asahi’s fingers curl back into his palm.

“Right,” he says softly. “Yeah.”

They walk together in silence, Noya wanting so desperately with every step to grab back Asahi’s hand, lace their fingers and drill himself into his side until the black magic of the day releases him and he can go back to feeling normal. Feeling giddy just standing next to him instead of listening to that apology – I’m sorry, Coach, I’m so sorry – over and over and over again and remembering the defeated slump of those strong shoulders. But no matter how hard he wants it, Noya can’t make himself bridge the distance. And Asahi makes no move to either.

Asahi’s parents work late, so they heat up dinner – leftover yakiniku and white rice – and eat in silence. Noya really hopes it’s because they’re both starving, but he gets the sense that the dark mood from the gym has followed them here and anger suddenly burns in his gut. He’s pissed—pissed because this is his special time with Asahi and he doesn’t want to feel pissed, but he can’t stop. Pissed at Ukai for being such a dick, furious at himself for being so immature, frustrated at Asahi for always freaking apologizing and—

Stop.

Noya clenches his jaw and places his chopsticks across his empty bowl.

“Should we study?”

There’s something Noya doesn’t recognize in Asahi’s voice, and for one terrible moment, Noya wonders if Asahi didn’t read his thoughts.

“Yeah,” he says, and it sounds so horribly artificial, Asahi raises his eyebrows.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Noya clears his throat. “Fine,” he says.

A look of sympathy softens Asahi’s tired eyes. He stands. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go up to my room. We can talk.”

“Sure.” Noya trails hollowly behind him as they clear their dishes and make the short pilgrimage up the stairs to Asahi’s small room. Asahi turns the lamp on, dropping his bag beside the desk.

“Asahi-san.” Noya can’t stop himself from asking, because underneath this chronic anger is fear, trembling and white. “Are you angry with me?”

Asahi turns quickly. “What?” he says. “Of course not.”

“Even though.” Noya scratches his head, thinks. “I’m sorry,” he says finally. “I feel like I embarrassed you today and…I’m not proud of that. I’m not sure what came over me.”

Asahi smiles, though it’s more just painted over whatever he’s really feeling. “You didn’t embarrass me,” he says. “I think you were right. We all just had a rough day, that’s all. It happens.”

He shrugs a little, and even though Noya knows he should feel relieved, he’s suddenly flooded with ire again. What is wrong with you? he demands of himself. Asahi being angry with him tops the chart of Things Yuu Nishinoya Wants Least of All in This Universe, beating out Intestinal Parasites and Ice Cream Shortages for first place. But for whatever reason, Asahi being reasonable at him is making him want to destroy something.

Just not this, Noya tells himself, shoving his shaking hands into his pockets. Don’t break this, Yuu.

“You know, Coach Ukai isn’t mad at you either,” Asahi says. “He apologized to all of us and wanted to be sure that you knew he was sorry too. Then we all laughed about how awful practice was.”

“Really,” Noya says evenly, marking his breath and settling his bag on the ground.

“I…think you should probably apologize too,” Asahi says, loitering by his desk chair. “But I think you’re probably thinking the same thing.”

“Yeah,” Noya says quickly, ducking his head and scuffing the ground with a toe. “Of course. I was an ass. I’ll apologize first thing. Fantastically.”

Asahi chuckles. “Suga’ll be happy about that.”

“I bet.”

The flow of words between them should be circulating the air, but if anything, the atmosphere is simply growing tighter. It’s suffocating. Noya wonders vaguely why Asahi isn’t sitting down and taking out his books as usual. Noya could really use some usual about now. Even if it’s just studying.

“Aren’t you going to…?” Noya gestures at the empty desk.

“Yeah,” says Asahi, but it could have been any other combination of syllables and it would still mean the same amount of nothing.

They continue to stand awkwardly in silence. Noya can’t take it.

“Did you,” Asahi suddenly speaks, hands snaking casually into his pockets, “want to talk about anything?”

Noya blinks. “Talk…about what?”

Asahi shrugs again, wetting his lips and swallowing, his gaze scattered. “You just seem…tense.”

“Yeah.” I could say the same of you, Noya considers saying, but it might come out as fighting words, so he bites his tongue. “I guess. Long day.”

“Yeah.”

“Shitty day.”

“Yeah.” Asahi clears his throat awkwardly. “Tomorrow will be better.”

He says it so hollowly, so pathetically, that Noya snaps.

“Don’t,” he says, then immediately regrets it, closes his eyes with a deep breath and tries again. “Please. Don’t be…reasonable with me right now, Asahi-san. It’s…frustrating.”

“…Okay,” says Asahi, taking a pace towards his desk, and yes – good – if he just sits down and falls into routine, maybe this day will return to something Noya recognizes and can salvage from the hopeless wreck it’s turning out to be.

Except Asahi isn’t approaching his desk at all. He’s walking straight past it, straight past Noya, and for one wild second, Noya thinks he’s going to leave, just leave him standing here, alone in his room—

Until he shuts the door. Stares down at Noya, his eyes dark and unfathomable, and just as Noya opens his mouth to say something – anything – Asahi seizes a handful of his collar.

And pushes.

Asahi shoves him. Noya’s heels collide with the door, his jaw dropping.

“Asah—”

Asahi wrenches Noya’s chin upward and takes his mouth.

For a second, Noya can’t process what’s going on. That this is Asahi – Asahi – with one hand fisted in his shirt, the other gripping his face. Big, bashful, blushing Asahi crowding him against the door and mauling him.

It finally occurs to Noya that maybe Asahi had a bad day too.

And that maybe he’s a little bit angry after all.

The thought should trouble him, but Noya just growls, wrapping his arms around the tense set of Asahi’s shoulders. He bares his teeth against Asahi’s lips, snarls his fingers into his hair until the tie flips loose. Asahi scoops a hand under his ass, lifting him like it means nothing, like fifty-one kilos of libero is just as heavy as a bag of rice at the supermarket. Noya’s heart is stampeding between his ears, legs wrapping around Asahi’s waist.

Asahi carries him two paces across his room and deposits him – none too gently – onto his bed. Noya is torn between springing back to climb him again and the look that Asahi is giving him now, expression closed and clouded. A chill electrifies Noya’s spine, arms shivering with energy as Asahi slowly plants one knee, then the other on the bed, mattress creaking under his weight.

Because that’s the thing about Asahi – he’s huge.

Noya grabs his collar as Asahi pushes them horizontal, covering Noya completely. He’s heavy, Noya realizes breathlessly, and of course he would be – he’s practically twice his size. The pressure on his chest is forcing his breath to shallow gasps, and the thought that Asahi is literally crushing him makes Noya’s head swim with want. Or maybe that’s just the lack of oxygen. He tests the give of Asahi’s body, rocking his hips upward and moaning softly into Asahi’s mouth when he realizes he can barely move at all.

Asahi squeezes his ass, runs both hands up Noya’s sides, from his hipbones past his ribs, thumbing over his nipples. Noya gasps and arches, twists beneath him until he’s got his fists in Asahi’s shirt, and he’s rutting against Asahi’s thigh.

“Fuck.” Noya is dizzy, barely has enough air to speak. “Asahi-san.”

Asahi lifts up to pull Noya out of his shirt and hesitates as Noya heaves in air.

“Are you—” Asahi’s voice is low. He bites his lip. “Is this—”

“Fuck,” Noya swears again, hands shaking at the hem of Asahi’s shirt. “This is amazing Asahi-san, don’t—don’t think, or talk or—just—”

Mercifully, Asahi seems to understand, shrugging out of his own shirt before pushing Noya down again, a hand splayed firmly on his chest. Noya can feel the scratch of stubble against his neck, Asahi’s lips and tongue and teeth, teeth as he bites – hard. Harder than he ever has before, and Noya can’t stop the sound breaking from his throat as he bucks into the crook of Asahi’s hip.

He’s going to leave marks. Fuck, Asahi is going to leave marks on his neck that everybody is going to notice tomorrow and make fun of him for, and god that thought should not be hot, but it is. Noya’s ears are ringing with it as he grabs fistfuls of Asahi’s soft hair, as Asahi roves down both sides of his neck, down his collarbone—chest—stomach—his fingers digging hard into his hips.

By the time Asahi’s mouth nips past his navel, tongue dragging pointedly down the curve of his lower abdomen, Noya barely has enough cognitive functioning left to grab his hand.

“Wait,” he gasps. As dizzy and out of his mind as he is— “I-I haven’t showered yet or—anything. I’m gross. Let’s—do something else.”

Asahi blinks, Noya’s words taking awhile to reach him. His eyes are almost black, hair hanging loose in strings, his lips pink and swollen. Wrecked.

“Of course,” he says, voice labored, pushing back up to the head of the bed. His fingers worry up the strand of red marks he left down Noya’s body, brow tightening in—

Noya seizes his face with both hands and kisses him hard, melting Asahi’s note of surprise to want; Noya’s still not ready to be reasonable just yet.

Asahi changes tack, cupping him through his sweatpants and yes, Noya bucks into his hand, muttering breathlessly against his mouth, yes, fuck, yes, Asahi-san. They break again so Asahi can fish the small tube out of his nightstand drawer and Noya can shuffle out of his sweatpants, tugging Asahi’s down to his knees. Asahi chuckles as he kicks them off and lays over Noya again, kissing him slowly and sweetly and much like the Asahi Noya knows so well. Except, he’s never felt the full, warm stretch of Asahi above him before, and now Noya’s not sure he can ever settle for anything less.

Noya runs his hands over the small of Asahi’s back, over the random constellation of freckles peppered there, up the ridge of his spine and the shifting planes of strong muscle working beneath taut skin. He burrows his fingernails, pinching – and Asahi yelps.

“Sorry!” Noya cries, vigorously rubbing the offended spot in apology. “I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s alright.” Asahi smiles at him and this time he certainly means it; that dark, lingering anger has cut sweet Asahi free from its malignant influence.

Honestly, Noya feels rather disappointed.

“I liked,” he says, somehow finding words as Asahi kisses his neck, “what you were doing. Earlier.”

“Hmhm.” Asahi chuckles, his low voice rumbling against Noya’s jaw. “I got that.”

“So.” Noya breathes, combing his fingers carefully through Asahi’s hair. “So you should. Do more of that. Please.”

“You know,” Asahi says, and Noya can feel the smile on his neck, “you really are pretty bossy, Noya.”

“Huh—what?” Despite everything, Noya feels his face flush, momentarily distracted by the fact that Asahi is still braced above him, tube curled in his fingers. Laughing. Asahi is laughing at him.

“Hey,” Noya says indignantly. “I did say ‘please,’ didn’t I?”

“You did,” Asahi agrees. “That was nice of you.”

“I just,” Noya mumbles, but Asahi presses a light kiss to his mouth.

“I think I get it,” he says. “Or…I don’t, really, but I can see that you, uh, like it. And I want to do what you like. So….”

Noya is suddenly very aware of the fact that he has fallen in love with Asahi Azumane.

“Did you,” Noya breathes, “did you not…like doing that? Honestly?”

Asahi blushes, gaze skittering away. “Well,” he says, “I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t say that. It’s just, uh. I just felt kind of out of control, and that…worries me. Like, I was getting carried away or—or I don’t know but—”

“But that’s good,” Noya says, grabbing Asahi’s face and nodding furiously at him. “Carried away is good. Really good. Do more of that. Please,” he adds.

Asahi is laughing again, and the sight is so helplessly charming, it takes Noya everything he has not to start kissing him again.

“Okay,” says Asahi. “Then…I’ll do my best.”

“I’m cheering you on,” Noya says, and Asahi laughs again. “No, come on, be serious, Asahi-san, we’re counting on you. Be the ace I know you can be.”

Noya really shouldn’t keep making him laugh, because they’re getting nowhere fast, but a helplessly chuckling Asahi is too adorable to pass up.

Well. Almost. Crucial regions of Noya’s anatomy are screaming for the kind of justice that a giggling Azumane isn’t equipped to deliver. But a libero’s job is nothing if not to get his ace back on track.

Noya fixes his hands at the back of Asahi’s strong neck and pulls himself up to meet his mouth, rocking pointedly against his thigh. Asahi gets the picture quickly, taking control of the kiss and thrusting slowly. The whole bed groans with the movement, heat bursting like scattershot from Noya’s groin to his throat. He hooks an arm across Asahi’s back, begging brokenly in his ear.

“C’mon, Asahi-san, please, please—”

Asahi’s breathing is ragged as he spreads lube on his hand and Noya wiggles out of his briefs. Asahi, in Noya’s humble opinion, has an amazing cock – solid and warm and gloriously to proportion. He runs his palm lightly down the side of it, and Asahi gasps a small, startled, “ah!” against Noya’s ear, which makes Noya grin crazily because adorable.

When Asahi takes them both in hand, however, Noya forgets what he’s laughing about.

“Fuck...!”

The slick heat and smooth movement is conjuring pleasure so vivid that Noya knows he’s not going to last long at all. He can feel his chest and face warm, forces himself to keep his eyes open so he can watch Asahi come—

But Asahi’s hand shifts away, and the movement stops.

Noya whines involuntarily, opening his mouth to ask what’s wrong, when he feels a slick finger press lightly against his hole.

His eyes blaze open. Asahi is watching him carefully, light sweat gathering at his temple.

“Is this…okay?” he asks.

Noya can’t get the words out fast enough. OhfuckAsahi-sanyesfuckdoitdoitdoitfuckfuckfuck, and he probably shouldn’t be swearing so much at an upperclassman but fuck, Asahi is chuckling in that low, sexy way that should be completely illegal, and pushing his finger in and FUCK just when Noya thought this day couldn’t get any better, it’s reaching whole separate levels of mind-blowingly unbelievable.

He’s so excited, he’s nearly hyperventilating, but Noya slams both his fists down on the bed and forces himself to concentrate. Forces himself to relax, because he’s read if you don’t relax, it just makes things—

“Hghnnmghn….”

A low, broken sound escapes his throat as Asahi pushes up to his first knuckle. Slowly. He’s being exceedingly gentle, and now Noya is beyond grateful for it; even without Asahi’s solicitude, it hurts like hell. Noya forces out a breath, screwing up his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Asahi whispers hoarsely, and Noya can only nod vigorously, pleasure chasing pain from his bent knees to his shoulders. Asahi’s finger is inside him. Asahi…Asahi is—

“I-if it’s too much, say something,” Asahi says a little desperately, and Noya cracks an eye, twitching a smile.

“I’m alright,” he croaks. “This…this is amazing, fuck, I-I can’t believe how much—” He swallows, breathes. “J-just give me a second.”

Asahi waits patiently, planting light, anxious kisses to Noya’s cheek and jaw and chest. Once the pain and tension has subsided somewhat, Noya gives a shaky okay, voice cracking into a helpless cry as Asahi slowly moves again, in and then back out—

Asahi’s fingers are beautiful, long and sturdy, and Noya spends a lot of time comparing them to his own, much smaller ones. Once, he even took two into his mouth to suck, just to tease Asahi (who blushed so hard and stuttered so heavily, Noya worried he might have broken him). But he never could have imagined how those fingers would feel inside him, stretching him (in every respect) beyond what he thought he could take. The pain has killed his boner, somewhat, but Noya has never felt so alive and aroused in his life. He can’t tell if he wants to laugh uncontrollably or cry deliriously and likes the idea of both even better.

Asahi is unsure, but Noya begs him to, and when Asahi’s second, slippery finger pushes into him, Noya curses unintelligibly, melting back into the mattress, knees twitching, hands fisting openly over the sheets. Asahi shifts, settling his forearm across the span of Noya’s chest and pinning him in a steel grip, and that’s it, that’s the proverbial nail in the coffin.

When Noya comes, he’s trapped against the bed, jerking off to the rhythm of Asahi fucking him with his fingers.

Noya’s whole body is trembling, stars crackling his vision to cellophane. He can feel the volume of his breath in his open mouth, the heave of his chest against Asahi’s arm. It takes him a second to remember how to speak.

“Asahi-san.”

“A-are you alright?!”

Leave it to Asahi to preserve the mood. Noya grins weakly, wiping his hands on his own hips before gathering Asahi’s face and kissing him, lingering and slow.

“You,” Noya says, kneading his forehead against Asahi’s, “are amazing, Asahi-san. I think I’m in love with you, you know.”

Asahi’s laugh is choked, breathless, and it bubbles off to a nervous giggle. “I…l-love you too, Noya.”

“Hey, call me Yuu.”

Asahi grins, eyes flicking away for a moment. “Yuu.”

Noya is fairly sure scientists could objectively prove with science that Asahi Azumane is actually perfect.

Noya is smoothing his hands all over his boyfriend, writing Asahi a verbal blank check for whatever illicit sexual favors he might secretly desire, but it ends fairly predictably, with slow, sensual kissing, Noya’s mouth on his neck and ear and chest and cock, and Asahi coming beside him as Noya watches his face.

Noya strokes his hair as Asahi winds down from orgasm. Asahi’s eyes open blearily, dazed and unfocused. Noya grins.

“Hi,” he says.

The smile breaking across Asahi’s mouth is as bright as his namesake. “Hi,” he says.

“Do you feel better?”

Asahi lifts an eyebrow. “Yes?” he says with a light laugh.

Noya laughs too, shaking his head. “You just seemed,” Noya hooks a leg past Asahi’s knee, “preoccupied. Before.”

“I guess.” Asahi considers this, absently running a hand down Noya’s arm. “I was. I was thinking…well, I was frustrated, I guess.”

“With me?”

“No,” Asahi says firmly. Too quickly.

“You were frustrated with me.”

Noya says it plainly, because he needs to hear it that way. It makes it easier. Recovery is always easiest when it’s straightforward, after all; if you come at it from an angle, everything just gets more complicated.

“…A little,” Asahi admits, like it’s something to apologize for. “But I don’t—”

“Asahi-san.” Noya presses a firm hand over Asahi’s heart. “Just tell me. I can take it. I really want to be the best I can be. Especially with you. So don’t be afraid of hurting me or breaking something, or…or anything. You’ve got me. And I’ve got your back.”

Asahi’s chest rises and drops in a sigh, and he covers Noya’s hand with his own. He takes a second to speak.

“I’m frustrated with you,” he says slowly, “because I don’t want to see you get hurt. I don’t like it. You do such amazing things on the court, Noya. I’ve never seen anybody move like you do, but…I’m terrified that someday you’re really going to hurt yourself or get into trouble in a bad way, and,” Asahi’s voice catches. He squeezes Noya’s hand, “and I can’t help but feel like when you do get hurt – when you do get in trouble – it’s always on my behalf. Which…makes me the one who’s hurting you. And I can’t stand that.”

It makes sense. Kind of. In all the silliest, sweetest, worst ways. Noya considers his words, running his thumb along Asahi’s.

“You know,” he says finally. “I think I was wrong before. When I told you that you couldn’t hurt me, not in a million years.”

Asahi stares sadly at him and Noya hurries to continue.

“Because if something matters, it can hurt you,” Noya says. “And the things that matter most can hurt the most. I think…that’s just how life works. Or how I work, anyway. So I want to get hurt on your behalf. There’s no one else I’d rather get hurt for.”

“Noya,” Asahi says, but Noya shakes his head.

“Seriously,” he says. “If there’s something worth having, it’s worth fighting for. And it’s worth getting hurt over. So…so I’m not going to stop getting hurt over you, Asahi-san. I won’t.”

Noya doesn’t know if he’s totally making his point, but he figures it’s pretty close. “Besides,” he says with a small grin, “in case you still haven’t noticed, I really, really don’t mind pain.”

Asahi laughs breathlessly. “Yeah, I uh. I noticed.”

“That was way better than that dream, just so you know.”

“Ah.” Asahi’s cheeks pinken, but he grins. “I, uh. Good. I’m happy.”

“Not as happy as I am.”

“To tell you the truth,” Asahi says, not meeting Noya’s eye, “the whole thing kind of…scared me.”

“My dream?”

“For starters.” Asahi laughs weakly. “But…but also the part of me that…could do that stuff. To you. I didn’t think I was capable of that, but. Uh. I’m glad. It worked out.”

Noya purrs, nuzzles his face up to Asahi’s and kisses his chin. “It worked out,” he says. “You’re the best, Asahi-san.”

Asahi smiles, cheeks flushed, and mumbles something against the pillow.

“Hmm?”

“…Was I a good ace?” Asahi asks sheepishly.

Noya bursts out laughing and they’re both hopeless for a bit, Noya reassuring him that yes, he’d killed that one. For sure.

What he killed, exactly, is painfully obvious the next morning when Noya appraises the angry red streaks down his neck and torso. Fortunately, his high-collared school uniform precludes any teachers questioning him about domestic violence, but in his gym clothes, he can hide his shame no longer. Tanaka’s face bloats and bursts when, hickey-marked and limping, Noya emerges from the clubroom.

“I guess yesterday didn’t totally suck after all!” Ryuu crows. “Or no wait – maybe you did!”

The pain is well worth chasing down and tackling Ryuu, and they grapple in the dusty yard, Tanaka reverting to housewife mode (“Ararara! How scandalous!”) while Noya points out that at least he got laid, unlike some other jerkbags he knows. They’re both crying with laughter when the third years emerge from the main building.

“Well, you two are full of energy,” Suga says pleasantly. His eyes flick to Noya’s neck and his smile grows two, knowing centimeters.

“Alright, get it together. Practice is starting soon.” Daichi is eyeing Noya warily, brow wavering between good humor and lecture. “And Noya—”

Noya pushes to his feet and bows all the way to his waist.

“I apologize for my behavior yesterday, Captain!” he says.

Daichi blinks as Suga smirks and mutters, “See?” Daichi scratches his head.

“Well,” he says. “Just tell Coach the same when he gets here, alright?”

“Understood!”

When he straightens up, Asahi is staring at him, usual fondness smothered with abject horror. Noya just grins.

“Hey! Suga-san! Asahi-san! Daichi-san!”

Hinata comes barreling through the doors, a stoic Kageyama trailing behind him. They seem to be back to normal, spiker brimming with unreal energy, setter composed as a radio tower.

“Oh! Noya-san, Tanaka-san!” Hinata’s face lights—then hollows, eyes growing wide. “N-Noya-san, did you…did you get in a fight?”

Kageyama casts a cursory glance at Noya, jaw-tightening as he double takes. The slow, pink burn rising on his face is priceless and Noya cackles openly, feeling like a proud corrupter of the youth.

“Kinda,” he says, then adds roguishly, “You should see the other guy.”

Suga coughs a laugh into his hand, and it’s everything Noya can do to not look at (a no doubt melting) Asahi.

“Whoa,” Hinata breathes in awe. “B-but you’re not going to be suspended, right?! You’re still going to be able to play with us, right?!”

“Like anyone could get suspended for that. Idiot,” Kageyama mutters, but frowns as he runs the calculation, glancing once to Noya, then to Suga for feedback: can you get suspended for hickies? Noya sincerely hopes this is consideration for Kageyama’s own immediate future.

“What?” Hinata insists. “It happened before—”

“Nah, Noya-san and I were just messing around,” Tanaka says, slinging an arm around Noya’s shoulders. “Isn’t that right, Noya-san?”

“Are you going to let him get away with that?” Suga asks Asahi, who is visibly sweating, face almost as red as Noya’s neck.

“What? Get away with what?” Hinata’s gaze is whipping from boy to boy but getting no answers. He finally turns to Kageyama. “What are they—?

“Come on,” says Kageyama loudly, dragging Hinata away by the collar. “You said you wanted to do ten more serves before practice, didn’t you?”

“Hey, I’m not done talking—!”

Bickering, the first years disappear into the gym. Daichi sighs, rubs his face.

“Alright,” he says. “Now that you’ve scarred Kageyama for life, can we all just—?”

“Daichi-san,” Noya says abruptly, “I hope things are going well with Michimiya-san.”

Daichi glares, but he’s not nearly as terrifying when he’s as red as Asahi.

“Yeah, Daichi,” Suga says, nudging him with an elbow and clearly enjoying all of this far too much. “How is that going? You stopped answering my texts last night, I had to wonder—”

“Practice!” Daichi barks. “Now!”

Suga laughs and, despite his innocently raised hands, continues to badger his friend for details as Daichi stalks off to the clubroom. Ryuu thumps Noya on the back, wiggling his eyebrows pointedly as he flees Noya’s kick. Then it’s just Noya and Asahi standing in the cool shadows outside the open gym doors.

“Are you okay?” Asahi asks in a hushed voice. “That looks pretty bad.”

“Are you kidding?” Noya grins. His neck is itchy and achy and he tests his fingers against it. It stings. “Feels great.”

Asahi’s mouth drops open and he laughs, shaking his head hopelessly. “I don’t get you, Noya,” he says.

“Yuu,” Noya corrects him.

Asahi flinches in pleased embarrassment. “Yuu,” he says softly.

Noya grins, fastening his hand into Asahi’s shirt. He feels like he ought to say something, something cool or, like, romantic, but as he’s considering the possibilities, Asahi takes a furtive glance over his shoulder.

Dips down to press a light kiss to Noya’s mouth.

And now all Noya wants to do is stand here and kiss Asahi in the warm afternoon to the sounds of volleyballs slamming against the court inside.

“Love you.” It’s murmured so fast and low that Noya thinks he might have imagined it, but as Asahi straightens up, the embarrassment on his face is telling enough. But his shoulders are back, his is chin up, and this is Asahi at his full height. This is Asahi strong.

Noya smiles, feeling his own face warm. Then just as he opens his mouth to reply—

“Wow, Nishinoya-san, that looks pretty serious.”

Asahi jumps and shrivels like a shut-in exposed to the sun as Tsukishima breezes past, a blushing Yamaguchi in tow.

“It happens,” Noya says evenly, trying to resist the urge to lovingly punch Tsukishima in the face. (As if he could even reach.) “Occupational hazard.”

“As an ace receiver? Oh, I’ll bet,” Tsukishima smirks pointedly at Asahi, and Noya takes the opportunity to trip Tsukishima magnificently into the gym.

Practice begins without a hitch, and although Yamaguchi won’t meet his eye; Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita develop sudden coughing fits when they see him; and Tanaka won’t stop wolf whistling, Noya is relieved to find a return to normalcy. The freak-attack is seamless; Kiyoko-san is enchanting and ignoring all of them; and Asahi is in prime, fighting form.

The poison is gone and balance has been restored.

True to his word, as soon as Coach Ukai ducks into the gymnasium, Noya hobbles over and delivers his apology.

“Ahh,” Ukai says, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah. Apology accepted. I was in a shi—uh, crappy mood yesterday and I lost my temper. I said some things I shouldn’t have, so. I’m sorry too.”

“I will continue to support my team to the best of my abilities,” Noya says to the gym floor, still in a ninety-degree bow. “I know I can have a short temper, but please continue to be patient with me.”

“Really, really.” Ukai waves him away. “It’s fine, it—” He stops. Noya lifts his head, and Ukai’s expression is telling enough. “Nishinoya.”

“Yes, Coach?”

“I—” Then he just shakes his head, choking out, “Nothing, get back to practice.” Ukai paces away a few steps, shoulders shaking with poorly suppressed laughter.

Ryuu whistles again and Noya spikes a ball at his face.

Practice is a perfect inverse of yesterday’s and despite the fact that his whole body is burning and sore, Noya manages to recover three blocks and a dozen tricky receives. By the time stretches are over, however, he’s face-planted against the gym floor, moaning softly.

“You okay, lover boy?” Ryuu says, nudging Noya’s shoulder with his toe.

“Mghmgn,” Noya groans. The gymnasium has melted into simple darkness and noise, his body so thoroughly offended by his recent behavior that it’s threatening to never move again.

“Come on, Noya, it’s time to clean up!” Noya hears Daichi call loudly from across the gym. In the background, Hinata and Kageyama are doing their usual, roaring battle.

“I think we can handle it.” Suga’s voice – blessed, beautiful, wonderful Suga. Noya’s fingers twitch in thanks. “Are you alive down there?”

“Hmghmgn.”

“Hey, I think we’ll need a little help over here!”

Noya can’t decide if that’s Ennoshita or Kinoshita, and he frowns, nose scrunching against the sticky gym floor. But it’s definitely Asahi who answers.

“Ah, okay! I’ll be right there.”

Blessed, beautiful, wonderful, gorgeous, sexy, amazing, adorable Asahi. Noya sighs contentedly into the floor, letting his mind drowse back to last night, to lying side-by-side with him, breathing him in, hand warm on his chest, listening to him talk—

Then standing outside the gym, the press of his mouth—

“Okay.” Asahi’s feet pause close by. “Here we go.”

Hands scoop gingerly under his stomach and chest, and before Noya knows what’s happening, he’s been hoisted into the air and slung gently over Asahi’s shoulder. His eyes shoot open, the sound of laughing and cat-calling (dammit, Ryuu) echoing through the gym, Take-chan’s concerned, “Wh-what’s going on? Is Nishinoya-kun okay?! Do we need to call someone?!”

“Noya-san has never been okay, Take-chan-sensei,” Tanaka says.

“He’s fine, sensei.” Noya blinks as Asahi speaks somewhere by his hip. “He just pushed himself a little too hard.”

“I’ll bet he did!”

“Ryuu!” Noya bursts, jabbing an index finger at him. “You wanna fight!? Asahi-san, put me down, I’m gonna fight ‘im.”

“N-no!” Hinata chirps, rushing over in a sweep of anxiously flailing arms. “Y-you can’t keep fighting, Noya-san, y-you’ll get suspended!”

Tanaka and Noya burst out laughing along with Suga, who has to grab Daichi for support, his face buried in his own elbow. Hinata whirls bemusedly until Kageyama, face as pink as a radioactive peach, grabs him by the collar again and drags him off to the supply room.

“Have a nice fight, guys!” Noya calls after them evilly, and in his peripheral vision, Suga sinks to the floor, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“What on earth—?” Take-chan is as lost as Hinata.

“It’s alright, sensei,” Asahi says hurriedly. “Leave Noya to me. I’ll take responsibility and make sure he’s alright.”

“I bet you will!”

“Ryuu!”

“Asahi!” Daichi is not yet, but strongly considering, angry. Suga is clutching his knee, wheezing.

“We’re going!” Asahi yelps and Noya blows kisses to the gym as Asahi carries him off.

The evening air is cool and fresh and Noya sighs, swinging behind Asahi as he takes steady, plodding steps across the yard.

“Take responsibility, huh?” Noya considers, propping his elbows on Asahi’s back to alleviate the rush of blood to his head.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing,” Noya calls. “You just sounded kind of cool back there, Asahi-san.”

“O-oh,” Asahi says, and despite having a libero slung over one shoulder, he rubs his neck. “Uh. Thanks.”

“Are you really going to take responsibility for me? Make sure I’m okay?”

“Well,” Asahi says slowly, voice breaking a little, “I thought about it and…and if I can’t stop you from getting hurt on my behalf, then maybe the only thing I can do is make sure you recover. Properly.”

“Are you doubting my recovery abilities? That wounds me, Asahi-san.”

“What—I—” It takes him a second to get the double-entendre, then he laughs. “Well you’re always helping our recoveries,” he says. “So I want to help you. Recover. Or. In any way that I can.”

If the scientists are still out to lunch on their research Re: Asahi Azumane’s Actual Perfection, Noya has some new crucial findings.

“Even if that means carrying me around like a sack of rice when I overdo it?”

Asahi laughs. “Of course,” he says with a little shrug. “I could probably carry you around like this all day. You’re pretty small, Noya.”

Noya laughs. It’s not the first time he’s been told that, but—“How come when you say it, you make it sound indecent, Asahi-san?”

Asahi sputters, grip on Noya’s knees fluctuating. “Wh-what? How is—I-I-I didn’t mean—?”

“Are you sure? Where are you taking me anyway?”

“I-I…I-I don’t—th-the clubhouse—?”

“I’m at your mercy, after all. You could take me anywhere you wanted.” Noya grins wickedly. “In so many different ways.”

“N-Noya, you,” Asahi’s large hand squeezes over the backs of his knees, “you shouldn’t say that stuff when we’re at school….”

“Why not?” Noya giggles, heart kickstarting as Asahi’s shoulders tense beneath him. “Am I frustrating you again?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Well, yes, but not—”

“Then you should definitely let me down,” Noya says, “and we should definitely talk about it.”

Even Asahi is savvy enough to laugh at that, and he kicks the clubroom door shut behind them. And although Noya, his face purple from hanging upside-down so long, has to gather himself against the lockers for a moment; and although Asahi, horrified by his unintentional crime, ends up apologizing profusely; once the dizziness recedes, Noya is able to make good on his promise of conversation, make up for Tsukishima’s interruption, and make sure his ace is thoroughly convinced that there has been no harm, no foul.