Kyoutani has the kind of face that Yahaba just desperately, desperately wants to punch.
He wants to punch it until it's bleeding, until his lips cheeks are swollen, until his nose is broken and he looks even worse than he already does on a regular basis. He wants to throw Kyoutani down and utterly destroy him, that's how much Yahaba hates him sometimes, when he shows up late to practice, disrupting the flow of it, throwing his other teammates off their game and then joining them on the court, demanding the best tosses so that he can hit them to his full satisfaction.
He has no fucking right, Yahaba thinks with savage fury, already having snapped at him for showing up late, and then for making Kindaichi switch off so he can play. He isn't even paying the proper respect to the third years, he never does, and it's making Yahaba want to grind his teeth because yeah, sure, Kyoutani's good and he's allowed to be confident about it, sure, but there's a line between being cocky and being a ridiculous, abrasive asshole who is too difficult to play with, too stubborn to pull into line the way you would with anyone else.
Which is probably why Yahaba's aching to just throw his fists right at Kyoutani's face and see if that makes any difference. He only ever responds to threats, to aggression, and Yahaba has all of that and more, ready to throw at Kyoutani without a second's hesitation.
"Yahaba," Oikawa says, patting his shoulder. "Deep breaths."
"What?" Yahaba blinks, pulled out of his internal monologue from the side of the court. Kyoutani jumps and slams his hand into the volleyball, making a loud sound as it hits the floor on the other side of the court. Yahaba's eyes track the movement, track the way Kyoutani lands on his feet gracefully, looking down at his hand with an air of satisfaction.
"Yahaba."
"Sorry!" Yahaba blinks again. "Yes?"
Oikawa smiles at him slowly, looking between him and Kyoutani. "You're going to have to learn to be more subtle, you know, or he's going to figure it out."
"About wanting to punch the shit out of Kyoutani?" Yahaba frowns. "I'm pretty sure he knows."
If anything, Oikawa's smile only grows even wider. "That's not what I meant, but okay. Let's swap."
He ruffles Yahaba's hair, sending him onto the court.
With Kyoutani.
Yahaba's incredibly aware of Kyoutani now that they're standing beside each other like this. He's aware of the other players on his side of the court too, but Kyoutani sticks out to him, like he's demanding Yahaba's attention, the way he always does when he's on court, when he's off court, all the fucking time, and Yahaba can't fucking stand it, can't get Kyoutani's stupid face out of his head, making his chest twist with something that's so intense that it can only be loathing.
He takes another deep breath, just like Oikawa told him to, and pays attention to the ball.
He tosses it for Kyoutani, perfect, just the way that Kyoutani likes them so he can hit it with full strength.
It wins them the point and this time, when Kyoutani lands on his feet, he looks at Yahaba, with that same silent expression of satisfaction and, oh, fuck, Yahaba thinks as they look each other.
He wants to punch Kyoutani, sure, but he's always wanted to kiss him just as badly.
FILL: SWAG 2016
Kyoutani has the kind of face that Yahaba just desperately, desperately wants to punch.
He wants to punch it until it's bleeding, until his lips cheeks are swollen, until his nose is broken and he looks even worse than he already does on a regular basis. He wants to throw Kyoutani down and utterly destroy him, that's how much Yahaba hates him sometimes, when he shows up late to practice, disrupting the flow of it, throwing his other teammates off their game and then joining them on the court, demanding the best tosses so that he can hit them to his full satisfaction.
He has no fucking right, Yahaba thinks with savage fury, already having snapped at him for showing up late, and then for making Kindaichi switch off so he can play. He isn't even paying the proper respect to the third years, he never does, and it's making Yahaba want to grind his teeth because yeah, sure, Kyoutani's good and he's allowed to be confident about it, sure, but there's a line between being cocky and being a ridiculous, abrasive asshole who is too difficult to play with, too stubborn to pull into line the way you would with anyone else.
Which is probably why Yahaba's aching to just throw his fists right at Kyoutani's face and see if that makes any difference. He only ever responds to threats, to aggression, and Yahaba has all of that and more, ready to throw at Kyoutani without a second's hesitation.
"Yahaba," Oikawa says, patting his shoulder. "Deep breaths."
"What?" Yahaba blinks, pulled out of his internal monologue from the side of the court. Kyoutani jumps and slams his hand into the volleyball, making a loud sound as it hits the floor on the other side of the court. Yahaba's eyes track the movement, track the way Kyoutani lands on his feet gracefully, looking down at his hand with an air of satisfaction.
"Yahaba."
"Sorry!" Yahaba blinks again. "Yes?"
Oikawa smiles at him slowly, looking between him and Kyoutani. "You're going to have to learn to be more subtle, you know, or he's going to figure it out."
"About wanting to punch the shit out of Kyoutani?" Yahaba frowns. "I'm pretty sure he knows."
If anything, Oikawa's smile only grows even wider. "That's not what I meant, but okay. Let's swap."
He ruffles Yahaba's hair, sending him onto the court.
With Kyoutani.
Yahaba's incredibly aware of Kyoutani now that they're standing beside each other like this. He's aware of the other players on his side of the court too, but Kyoutani sticks out to him, like he's demanding Yahaba's attention, the way he always does when he's on court, when he's off court, all the fucking time, and Yahaba can't fucking stand it, can't get Kyoutani's stupid face out of his head, making his chest twist with something that's so intense that it can only be loathing.
He takes another deep breath, just like Oikawa told him to, and pays attention to the ball.
He tosses it for Kyoutani, perfect, just the way that Kyoutani likes them so he can hit it with full strength.
It wins them the point and this time, when Kyoutani lands on his feet, he looks at Yahaba, with that same silent expression of satisfaction and, oh, fuck, Yahaba thinks as they look each other.
He wants to punch Kyoutani, sure, but he's always wanted to kiss him just as badly.