"Remind me why I got up at six in the morning for this, Kindaichi?" Akira is barely on his feet, he's not sure the state he's currently in should actually be called being awake. He's in some horrible twilight in-between. Standing in line directly behind his stupid best friend and his stupid TEAM JAPAN jacket. He yawns, leaning forward to put his forehead against the back of Kindaichi's shoulder, wondering if maybe he can sneak a nap in here before the line shuffles forward again.
Kindaichi twists, trying to look back at him, upsetting his balance in the process and nearly knocking Akira over. "I- if you're one of the first hundred people through the door you get to meet Iwaizumi-san!"
His voice is an excited hiss, and there's red covering the back of his neck and Kunimi really doesn't want to be having this conversation. They are in the first hundred people, of course. There's only maybe ten in front of them waiting to get into the stadium, while the line behind Akira stretches around the block.
Akira doesn't particularly want to meet the national team's famous wing spiker Iwaizumi Hajime. He's a good player, obvious from his position as the ace of all of Japan, but...
Kindaichi is nearly vibrating out of his skin, practically giddy with excitement, and Akira huffs, shaking his head. He'll probably faint the second he shakes Iwaizumi's hand or something, and then Akira will have to drag his giant body up to their seats by himself only to find his best friend tragically murdered by a stupid crush.
(It occurs to Akira that some of this is probably jealousy. It's a thought he's sure he's better off not confronting.)
They haven't opened the doors to the stadium yet, and Akira feels like they've been in line for hours. In his stupor, when Kindaichi dragged him out of bed, he forgot to even grab a jacket for himself, so now he's irritated and cold. And still waiting.
The skies open up above them to the tune of a collective groan from the gathered crowd. Akira joins them, soaked suddenly, pressing himself against Kindaichi in the hope that his height will provide some kind of shelter.
Hair worn flat by the rain, Kindaichi turns around and places both of his hands on Akira's shoulders, shuffling them so their positions in line have reversed. His jacket is unzipped, and rather than shrug it off he leans, wrapping it around Kunimi as well so they're both inside of it, leaning his chin on the top of Akira's head.
And, well, at least this way he's pretty much protected from the rain. Kindaichi is warm and dry because of his jacket, and he doesn't seem to mind the fact that Akira is soaked to the bone.
He releases Akira when the doors finally open, and Akira tries to ignore that he is the one blushing at this point, rain still dripping from the ends of his hair onto his shoulders. Kindaichi stares for a moment before shrugging his jacket off and dropping it over Akira's shoulders with a little shrug. "It's probably cold inside."
Akira isn't sure if he trusts his voice in answering that, so he hums slightly instead. The jacket, being that it's Kindaichi's, is predictably too big, with the sleeves hanging past his hands and the hem around his thighs. But it's... comforting like that. Like he could burrow into it if he wanted to.
Kindaichi is still staring at him, only now with his cheeks red. "Um, K- Kunimi-kun?"
Akira raises both eyebrows at him.
"T- thank you for coming with me today!" His voice cracks in the middle of the sentence. "I- I was worried that you would think watching a volleyball game was a lame first date, and I know you don't really like getting up early, s- so, um. Thank you."
Akira gives him a little shrug of his shoulders and a nod, squeezing his hands in the cuffs of the jacket. "It's fine--"
His brain catches the word date after he opens his mouth, and he stops short in the middle of his sentence, staring at Kindaichi with his mouth open.
Date? He's pretty sure Kindaichi Yuutarou has never asked him on a date. They're here because Kindaichi has a crush on a pro player and wants to meet him?
But Kindaichi is beaming at him, not rushing him off to meet Iwaizumi and gush over it. His face goes red again, leaning over and bumping a quick, clumsy peck to Akira's cheek and lacing their fingers together. "C'mon."
This time, Kindaichi dragging him along has everything to do with shock and nothing to do with lethargy.
(Still, Akira figures, he might as well take the chance that he already gave himself.)
FILL: TEAM KYOUTANI KENTAROU/YAHABA SHIGERU, G
802 words
"Remind me why I got up at six in the morning for this, Kindaichi?" Akira is barely on his feet, he's not sure the state he's currently in should actually be called being awake. He's in some horrible twilight in-between. Standing in line directly behind his stupid best friend and his stupid TEAM JAPAN jacket. He yawns, leaning forward to put his forehead against the back of Kindaichi's shoulder, wondering if maybe he can sneak a nap in here before the line shuffles forward again.
Kindaichi twists, trying to look back at him, upsetting his balance in the process and nearly knocking Akira over. "I- if you're one of the first hundred people through the door you get to meet Iwaizumi-san!"
His voice is an excited hiss, and there's red covering the back of his neck and Kunimi really doesn't want to be having this conversation. They are in the first hundred people, of course. There's only maybe ten in front of them waiting to get into the stadium, while the line behind Akira stretches around the block.
Akira doesn't particularly want to meet the national team's famous wing spiker Iwaizumi Hajime. He's a good player, obvious from his position as the ace of all of Japan, but...
Kindaichi is nearly vibrating out of his skin, practically giddy with excitement, and Akira huffs, shaking his head. He'll probably faint the second he shakes Iwaizumi's hand or something, and then Akira will have to drag his giant body up to their seats by himself only to find his best friend tragically murdered by a stupid crush.
(It occurs to Akira that some of this is probably jealousy. It's a thought he's sure he's better off not confronting.)
They haven't opened the doors to the stadium yet, and Akira feels like they've been in line for hours. In his stupor, when Kindaichi dragged him out of bed, he forgot to even grab a jacket for himself, so now he's irritated and cold. And still waiting.
The skies open up above them to the tune of a collective groan from the gathered crowd. Akira joins them, soaked suddenly, pressing himself against Kindaichi in the hope that his height will provide some kind of shelter.
Hair worn flat by the rain, Kindaichi turns around and places both of his hands on Akira's shoulders, shuffling them so their positions in line have reversed. His jacket is unzipped, and rather than shrug it off he leans, wrapping it around Kunimi as well so they're both inside of it, leaning his chin on the top of Akira's head.
And, well, at least this way he's pretty much protected from the rain. Kindaichi is warm and dry because of his jacket, and he doesn't seem to mind the fact that Akira is soaked to the bone.
He releases Akira when the doors finally open, and Akira tries to ignore that he is the one blushing at this point, rain still dripping from the ends of his hair onto his shoulders. Kindaichi stares for a moment before shrugging his jacket off and dropping it over Akira's shoulders with a little shrug. "It's probably cold inside."
Akira isn't sure if he trusts his voice in answering that, so he hums slightly instead. The jacket, being that it's Kindaichi's, is predictably too big, with the sleeves hanging past his hands and the hem around his thighs. But it's... comforting like that. Like he could burrow into it if he wanted to.
Kindaichi is still staring at him, only now with his cheeks red. "Um, K- Kunimi-kun?"
Akira raises both eyebrows at him.
"T- thank you for coming with me today!" His voice cracks in the middle of the sentence. "I- I was worried that you would think watching a volleyball game was a lame first date, and I know you don't really like getting up early, s- so, um. Thank you."
Akira gives him a little shrug of his shoulders and a nod, squeezing his hands in the cuffs of the jacket. "It's fine--"
His brain catches the word date after he opens his mouth, and he stops short in the middle of his sentence, staring at Kindaichi with his mouth open.
Date? He's pretty sure Kindaichi Yuutarou has never asked him on a date. They're here because Kindaichi has a crush on a pro player and wants to meet him?
But Kindaichi is beaming at him, not rushing him off to meet Iwaizumi and gush over it. His face goes red again, leaning over and bumping a quick, clumsy peck to Akira's cheek and lacing their fingers together. "C'mon."
This time, Kindaichi dragging him along has everything to do with shock and nothing to do with lethargy.
(Still, Akira figures, he might as well take the chance that he already gave himself.)