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Something tingles at Tobio’s subconscious, niggling and insistent, until he opens his eyes and groans sleepily.

Shuffling under the duvet and squinting in the dark, he slides one hand across the mattress to find a warm, empty spot in the bed next to him where, theoretically, Hinata should be. Tobio presses another groan into his pillow and cranes an ear. There’s no noises in the flat that he can pick out – no squeak of the ageing pipes in the walls, or the soft rush of water. Hinata’s not in the bathroom, which means-

“Oh for fuck's sake…” Tobio mutters into good quality goose down, and moodily flings the duvet from his person.

Lurching upright, a bit unsteadily because he’s never the most graceful immediately after waking, Tobio stumbles from the bed and out into the hallway, eyes open wide in a valiant attempt to see in the gloom. There are no lights on, the only illumination coming from dim, far away lights that shine in through the windows. Tobio huffs another sigh.

He stomps down the hallway, past the empty bathroom, and into the large, open area which comprises both their living space and their kitchen.

And there, in the middle of the room, staring down at their kotatsu like it holds the answers to all of life’s questions, is Hinata.

Who is still completely asleep.

Tobio sighs up at the ceiling, shoulders slumping, and a little snicker escapes him. Hinata’s chronic sleepwalking problem is a little frustrating sometimes, but it’s also admittedly absolutely hilarious.

“Come on, you,” Tobio says, not bothering to lower his tone because Hinata would ignore him anyway even if he was fucking shouting. “Back to bed.”

Hinata doesn’t sleepwalk very often, but when he does he normally does one of two things. Either he wanders into the kitchen area, opens the fridge and stares into the abyss of chilled food and milk until Tobio comes along and slams it shut again, or he does this. Which is navigate the kotatsu to stand on one side of it, and then get stuck, because apparently walking back around it is one of life’s little mysteries that sleep-walking-Hinata hasn’t quite figured out yet.

Tobio rounds the kotatsu and gently places both hands on his husband’s shoulders. He’s found that his voice doesn’t tend to snap Hinata out of it, but sudden touch and movement do, and he’d rather avoid waking Hinata up, if he can. Luckily, Hinata is reasonably pliant like this, and he obediently shuffles forward at Tobio’s gentle nudges, circling the kotatsu like a champ.

They trudge back down the hallway, Tobio doing his best not to look too hard at Hinata’s creepy half-lidded eyes (he loves him very much, but he doesn’t want nightmares) until they make it back into the bedroom. Hinata tends to move on autopilot at this point and something about their bedroom must be familiar, because he heads to – and then falls onto face first – their bed with no direction needed.

Tobio rolls his eyes fondly and sighs, clambering back into his side of the bed and watching with great amusement as Hinata worms his way across the mattress like a caterpillar before falling still in his correct place by Tobio’s side. He’s motionless for now, but it won’t be long before Hinata’s restlessness kicks in, so Tobio drapes himself across his husband’s back once he’s settled and buries his nose in the soft red hairs at the nape of his neck.

It had taken some getting used to Hinata’s… exuberant sleeping habits.

The thing is, when Tobio goes to sleep, he lies down, shuts his eyes and doesn’t regain consciousness again for a solid eight hours. Almost nothing rouses him. Hinata often says he sleeps like a dead log. Tobio has never struggled to sleep anywhere in his life. He settles down, gets comfortable, and then is out like a light. It’s one of the few things he considers himself to be genuinely talented at.

Hinata, on the other hand… moves. Tobio’s always known he’s a restless sleeper, from their very first overnight training camp all those years ago at school. Hinata tosses and turns and changes sleeping positions at least once every eight minutes, unless he’s truly, deeply asleep. Tobio had once wondered if such a restless sleep meant he never felt fully rested, but Hinata had never woken up the next day complaining of being tired.

The transition from sleeping in the futon next to him as a teenager – where the only hazard was the odd kick to his calves, maybe – and then to sleeping in the same bed next to him as his husband was… difficult. There had been more than a few nights where Hinata had thumped him a little too hard with a flyaway limb, or rolled so far one way he’d taken all the covers with him, or so far the other that Tobio found himself wheezing with Hinata’s full weight on his chest.

But it had gotten better. They had always been good at solving problems together after all.

The usual solution is to, for lack of a better term, smother Hinata so he doesn’t feel the need to move.

“I used to have a blanket as a kid,” Hinata had told him once, shame faced and fidgeting, at 3am when Tobio had forced them to come a solution so he could have one good night’s sleep. “But I got rid of it because… it’s childish you know? I guess it did help to hold something…”

Tobio had gawked incredulously and flung his arms open wide at that because hello? Perfectly good husband here to hold, readily available and willing.

So Hinata had stopped trying to fall asleep next to Tobio, and started to fall asleep wrapped around him instead, which suited Tobio just fine. He quite liked (a lot) being held – either being spooned or with Hinata nestled into his side or draped on top like a human duvet. It was deeply pleasant and made Tobio’s mouth wobble every night – something he had to smother in the bed sheets or Hinata’s hair lest he get caught.

But even though the tossing and the turning and the flying limbs at 3:30am were mostly halted, Hinata still sometimes seemed to have so much leftover energy, he had to channel it by wandering around their flat still fast asleep.

Tobio had no memory of him ever doing this while at training camps, so the first time he had caught Hinata, staring at a box of leftover pizza in the fridge – an extremely rare treat – in the middle of the night he’d thought he was sneaking a midnight snack. Annoyed that Hinata, someone who prided himself on his immaculate diet these days, was cheating by eating carbs and grease in the dead of night – without him! – Tobio had stomped over and grabbed him by the shoulder.

But instead of leaping into the air with a shriek and whirling around to barrage Tobio with a bunch of babbled excuses or simply running at full speed back to the bedroom, Hinata had startled under his touch and immediately begun to panic.

Turns out, being awoken suddenly in the middle of sleep walking was extremely disorientating.

Tobio had had to reassure him they were just in the kitchen - and that yes, he really was Tobio, who else would he be? – and Hinata had settled from his initial fright reasonably quickly after that.

“You… sleep walk?” Tobio had confirmed as they clambered back into bed once Hinata had calmed back down.

“Yeah, I do that sometimes.” Hinata had nodded, like it was no big deal and not the sort of thing you should think to tell your husband about.

Tobio had raised an eyebrow and stared. “Since when?”

“I don’t know! Since I was tiny?”

“What? You never did it at camp!”

“Didn’t I?” Hinata had stared the ceiling, eyes crossing over in thought. “I don’t think I did in Brazil either… must only be when I’m home.”

Calling their little shared space - just a pokey apartment in Tokyo that would suffice until they had time to find something bigger - home had made Tobio so gooey he hadn’t challenged it any further. He'd simply tugged his husband back down onto the pillows and tried to smother him so he wouldn’t get up again.

From then on Tobio knew not to startle Hinata awake, just to poke and prod him like he was a particularly dozy cow to direct him back to their bed, whereupon Hinata would collapse onto the mattress and wake again in the morning none the wiser. Tobio’s tempted to make a little tally of how often he finds Hinata simply wandering around the house looking possessed but he thinks his husband might possibly take offence.

So Tobio doesn't.

Until the night he wakes up – through the usual marriage voodoo that enlightens him his spouse has left his immediate vicinity – and finds Hinata… bouncing a volleyball. In the hallway.

“This is new,” Tobio remarks to nobody in particular, watching with mildly impressed intrigue as Hinata bounces a ball from waist height to the floor and back again. Like a small child.

Tobio shuffles closer, making sure to keep quiet so he doesn’t startle Hinata awake – lest his partner springs back to awareness and accidentally bounce the ball hard enough to smack himself in the face or something.

Slowly, Tobio reaches out and snags the ball mid-bounce, holding it out of the way and squinting at Hinata.

Hinata stands still for a full three seconds, before vaguely waving his hands up and down, repeating the motion to bounce a ball... just without a ball. He does this a few times, before his vacant, gormless face scrunches up in confusion and upset.

Panicking, Tobio stuffs the volleyball back into Hinata’s hands.

Hinata holds the ball between his palms, but does not resume bouncing it, just returns back to looking vacant again with his half-lidded eyes and softly open mouth. Tobio sighs in relief and nudges him gently, the relief increasing when Hinata happily shuffles forward back into their bedroom like usual.

“How did you even manage to find a fucking ball while asleep?” Tobio mutters viciously as they both fall back onto the bed. He worms his way across the mattress and loops his arms tightly around Hinata’s waist, grumpily burying his nose into his hair. He puffs out a sigh, lets his eyes slide shut, and waits for sleep.

Then immediately pops his eyes open again when he registers that Hinata is still holding the volleyball.

Cuddling it to his chest even, with a small, dopey smile on his face.

Tobio gives himself thirty seconds to feel deeply offended that his husband looks happier cuddling a leather ball than him, before he gives up and lets himself drift off.

If he has to lose, it might as well be to Mikasa’s finest product.

The next night, the same thing happens. Tobio awakens in the middle of the night, and locates Hinata upright and bouncing his new favourite sleeping buddy again, this time in the kitchen. Tobio has to rescue the ball before it smashes into their finest glassware (courtesy of Ikea) and then he quickly stuffs both ball and husband back into bed before any more shenanigans can happen.

The night after, he finds Hinata sitting on the floor, rolling a ball along the floor until it bumps against their bedroom wall. It rolls back, and he repeats the motion, over and over. Tobio doesn’t even bother poking him back to bed for this one – at least he’s sitting down. He shouldn’t get too tired.

When Tobio awakens for the fourth time in a row that week, to find Hinata standing on their sofa, mimicking a spiking motion with his arm on repeat, he decides that enough is enough. He stops his stupid husband from giving himself a repetitive shoulder injury, drags him down from his perch as vigorously as he dares, all but shoves him into bed, flings a volleyball at him to cuddle and then himself in after.

Tobio lies on his back and glares up at the ceiling, and ponders.

Hinata happily snuggles his volleyball, drools into his pillow, and is none the wiser.

“Is everything alright?” Tobio demands the next morning, when they’re making breakfast together.

Hinata blinks at him over the rice cooker. “… Yes?” He tries, looking extremely confused.

“You’re playing volleyball in your sleep,” Tobio states, deciding to just dive right into heart of that matter.

Hinata stares at him. The rice cooker beeps, and he presses the button to pop open the lid without breaking his gaze. There’s a long period of silence while the smell of freshly cooked rice fills the flat and the gears in Hinata’s head visibly turn.

“That’s kind of cool, actually,” is what he decides on, once he’s finished thinking.

Tobio nearly flings a spatula at him.

“Sleep is for resting, not sports,” he hisses, waving his egg-drenched kitchen utensil at his idiot partner. “You’ve been doing it every night for days, aren’t you tired?”

“Not really,” Hinata shrugs, after a moment’s pause. Then he squints at Tobio suspiciously. “Are you?”

Tobio immediately bristles, before the irritation swiftly recedes to be replaced with resignation. He is tired, admittedly, just a little. Just enough that he’s noticed the difference from his usual energy levels in the morning. Having his sleep interrupted every night was starting to take its toll, especially as every interruption was now starting to feature some sort of exercise. He’s a little concerned he’s going to have to set to a still-sleeping Hinata at some point to appease his bizarre brain before he can safely drag him back to bed.

“… I’m sorry,” Hinata murmurs, breaking his train of thought. He looks at Tobio sadly from across the kitchen space, slowly spooning rice into bowls with a furrowed brow. “I keep waking you up, don’t I?”

Those morose, big brown eyes melt Tobio quicker than the butter soaking into the warm pile of toast and he puffs out a little sigh. “You don’t mean to,” he relents, and then pivots the conversation back to the start. “Are you sure there’s nothing’s bothering you? With practice?”

They’re currently in training with the rest of the national team in preparation for the international season. Hinata doesn’t get anywhere near as nervous as he used to, back when they were much younger, but it’s the only thing Tobio can think of as the cause for his sudden burst of night time volleyball activity.

The sadness in Hinata’s face morphs into befuddled thought. “No?” He says, after barely a moment’s pause. “I don’t think so – why, do you think I’m doing badly?”

The edge of fight there in his tone is warm and familiar and Tobio grasps at it gladly. “That emergency set on Tuesday was pretty sloppy –“ he dodges Hinata’s kidney jab with a snicker, “- no, I don’t, I just- I don’t know why you’re suddenly playing fucking volleyball in your sleep!” He bursts out all in a rush. “Or how you’re managing it, either, actually.”

I don’t know! I do lots of weird things when I’m asleep!” Hinata wails back, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “Look,” he sighs, after a moment’s frustrated hair pulling. “I’ll… think of something.”

Tobio’s mouth starts to purse, but before he can say anything, Hinata is darting into his space to kiss him sweetly.

“I won’t keep waking you up,” Hinata promises between little smooches. He doesn’t elaborate, but there’s a spark in his eye that hints at an idea, so Tobio relaxes against him and draws him closer for a proper good morning kiss.

That night, after a practice so gruelling Tobio is sure Hinata will actually stay still all night, he is awoken, not from marriage voodoo, but from a ball literally dropping onto his head.

He springs awake with a bellow, cursing viciously when the ball smacks onto his face a second time and turns a murderous glare up the culprit.

Hinata stares sightlessly back down at him, standing upright in their bed, quietly fetching the ball from where it rolls across the mattress and moves to drop it back onto Tobio again. Tobio has just enough time with his sleep-dulled reflexes to lift his hands up protectively and catch the ball before it careens back into his face and breaks his nose.

He’s so irritated that rationality is thrown out the window, and he flicks his wrists with a snarl, launching the ball back up. Hinata surely can’t see it, but he somehow makes a clumsy, uncoordinated attempt to hit with his hand anyway, completely misses, and just blinks dumbly when the ball finishes its skyward arc to knock against his forehead with a soft fwap.

Tobio squints warily, waiting for the moment when Hinata blinks back awake and prepares for the panic.

But Hinata doesn’t. His husband just blinks once, before his legs fold slowly as he sinks back down onto the bed, tilting sideways until he slumps against the headboard and simply… drops back to sleep.

Tobio gawps at him for a solid minute, flabbergasted.

He should, probably, rearrange him so he doesn’t give himself the world’s stiffest neck from sleeping like that, but Tobio is so cross from having a ball dropped on his fucking face he’s feeling a little vindictive. So he flings the volleyball that was innocently nestled on a pillow through their open bedroom door and out of sight and rolls decisively onto his side to go back to sleep.

(His stubborness lasts for about ten minutes before he does, in fact, rearrange Hinata back into something resembling a normal sleeping position. Hinata may be failing his duties spectacularly right now, but Tobio is a very good husband, thank-you very much.)

“You dropped a volleyball on my face,” is Tobio’s response when Hinata greets him in the morning.

“… Oh,” Hinata says, small and soft. “Maybe I was trying to get a set?” He jokes, but his smile is weak and the humour falls flat at Tobio’s displeased, grumpy glare over his morning tea. “… I’ll work on it.”

That night, they go to bed as normal. Tobio drapes himself across Hinata like a human body warmer, as normal. They wish each other goodnight with lazy, mismatched kisses, as normal.

And then, later, as is the new normal, Tobio wakes up in the middle of the night, thanks to the universe deciding it must always whisper in his ear whenever Hinata decides to drift more than three metres from his side. But the apartment is completely silent when Tobio stirs awake, and that itself is now so abnormal, that it’s more curiosity than annoyance that drags him from the bed.

Tobio shuffles down the hallway, squinting in the low lighting, ears peeled. There aren't any immediate noises of a ball thumping against the floor or the walls, or the telltale shuffle of Hinata's feet across the floor. He peeks into the bathroom on his way past just to make sure Hinata isn't doing something weird in there for a change, but there's no sign of him. Frowning sleepily, Tobio slouches into the living area, and squints.

There, on the sofa, completely horizontal and fast asleep like a completely normal person, is his husband.

Hinata is sprawled across the cushions in his usual manner - limbs akimbo, hair a mess and happily drooling into his pillow. Or his makeshift pillow, rather. Which seems to consist of a particularly lurid hoodie featuring the Brazillian flag balled up under his head. There's a blanket on the floor, seemingly thrown there at some point during the night, likely from Hinata’s constant tossing and turning. Tobio’s half surprised Hinata hasn’t flung himself from the sofa as well, to be honest.

As Hinata snores gently in his sleep and wiggles his feet against the arm of the sofa, Tobio stares down at him with a mixture of fondness (because a sleeping Hinata was always sort of sweet, even if he was a constantly fidgeting, drooling mess. True love really did make you blind) but with also… a decent amount of petulant annoyance.

Tobio’s mouth purses in a grouchy pout and he plucks at some of the loose threads sticking out from their sofa irritably. Hinata had definitely gone to bed with him earlier that night, snuggled up to him nice and close, with Tobio draped across him like a happy limpet, but it seems he hadn’t planned on staying there.

It’s possible that Hinata could’ve gotten up for his usual mid-slumber stroll, but with the blanket and the hoodie… no. He’d gotten up, and taken himself to the sofa himself, fully awake, not wanting to sleep next to Tobio.

So Tobio pouts, and folds his arms, and tries not to sulk even though he is definitely, absolutely, resolutely, sulking.

He’s tempted to poke Hinata awake right there. Demand to know why his husband thought sleeping on the sofa was in any way acceptable when they weren’t actually fighting, but he doesn’t. Because Hinata is, admittedly, for once actually asleep – properly, deeply asleep – and not wandering around the flat or trying to practice receives against their fridge or trying to give himself some sort of repetitive shoulder injury. The thought is both soothing and also kind of upsetting, and Tobio feels his stomach squirm in guilty jealousy.

He stares mournfully down at his sleeping husband for another minute or two more, before he sighs shakily and bends to pick up the discarded blanket. Draping it back over Hinata, he presses a quick kiss to his temple, neatly dodges the leg that kicks out in reflective response, and slopes off back to their bedroom.

Where he wraps himself around their duvet, pretends it’s a person, buries his face in the pillows, and tries to sleep with his shoulders around his ears and his back altogether too cold.

Tobio wakes the next morning to a perfectly chipper Hinata who greets him just as he’s opening his eyes. He barely has time to blink the crust from his eyelids away before his husband is pressing a quick kiss to his yawning mouth, delivering some quip about his morning breath and then is dashing away again, yelling something about dibs and showers.

Normally, this would be the point where Tobio would throw himself from the bed in reckless, competitive abandon, in a desperate attempt to launch himself into the bathroom – and the shower – before Hinata did.

(They had tried showering together exactly once. It ended fairly quickly after they got a little too excited with the soap and Hinata had given himself a fantastic concussion on the wall tiles.)

But this morning, Tobio cannot be bothered. He lets Hinata have the first shower, responds half-heartedly to the victorious jeer, and simply slouches into the kitchen to finish the breakfast preparations.

“Are you okay?” Hinata asks him when he enters the kitchen himself, shower fresh and damp around the edges.

“Fine,” Tobio grunts automatically as he finishes plating up their breakfast. Then his stubborn side kicks in and his mouth is running without his permission again. “Actually, no, why did you sleep on the sofa last night?”

He doesn’t mean for it to come across as accusing as it does – like Hinata had done something objectively wrong… except actually, no that was exactly what he had done. Husbands aren’t supposed to leave the other husband lying in bed all alone and cold with no explanation. Tobio is very confident about this. So he lets his face fold into an annoyed scowl and levels his terrible husband with a deeply unimpressed stare.

Hinata at least as the decency to look sheepish, and he shuffles on the spot, idly reaching for a tea towel to wring it between his fingers as he fidgets. He starts to speak just as Tobio thinks about kicking him in the ankle. “I didn’t want to wake you up,” he says, his abashed expression crumpling into something a little more upset, and Tobio abruptly feels all of his irritation simply evaporate. “I keep waking you up and that’s not fair on you so I thought I’d… sleep out here instead. And then if I did get up in the night you wouldn’t notice. But I still woke you up, didn’t I? I don’t know what I’m- I must be noisy, I’m sorry-“

“I wake up because you’re not there, idiot,” Tobio interrupts suddenly, once he realises exactly where this is headed. “Not because you’re crashing about.”

Hinata tilts his head at him in soft confusion, some of his distress giving way to intrigue, though he continues to twist the tea towel into tight coils in his hands.

Tobio’s tempted to reach out and tug it from him, but it’s an outlet for Hinata’s constant, never-ending restless energy, and that always acts up when he’s feeling anxious about something. “I’m used to having you there next to me, dummy,” he elaborates, letting exasperated fondness soften his tone. “I wake up because you’re missing, so of course I noticed you were on the sofa. I don’t actually know if you got up or not.”

“… Oh,” Hinata murmurs, and continues his assault on the tea towel as he stares off into the middle distance. Clearly Tobio’s words aren’t bringing much reassurance.

So Tobio sighs and steps up close to him, raising his hands to rub Hinata’s upper arms slowly (and taking a small, private moment to enjoy his biceps. He’d been denied the privilege all night after all.) “I don’t like the idea of you sleeping on the sofa every night,” he says simply, because straight to the point is normally the best way of getting through to Hinata. “That’s ridiculous, and you’ll hurt your back.”

Hinata squirms uncomfortably. “But when I… sleep walk, and stuff, I don’t even notice. I’m not tired in the morning even if I do get up, so it’s nothing to me, but I do wake you up, and I know you’re tired.”

Tobio’s gut instinct is to protest this, and he even gets halfway through opening his mouth to retort before he’s pinned by an unimpressed, golden-brown stare and he shuts it again with a soft clack of teeth. He ponders this point carefully. Yes, he’s a little drowsier in the mornings because his sleep is interrupted. Yes, it’s sort of annoying. And yes, it’s going to become even more annoying once it starts to impede on his volleyball performance.

But Tobio really, really doesn’t want to sleep apart from his husband more than is strictly necessary. They already spend at least half the year apart when the club season starts – their together time is precious enough as it is.

“You’ll just have to stop sleep walking,” he states simply.

Hinata squints at him in irritated disbelief. “Oh I’m sorry,” he says, voice drenched in sarcastic exasperation. “I’ll just stop. Of course. Silly me, I forgot I do it on purpose.”

Tobio does at least wince. “No,” he groans, regret flooding him. “No, no… I mean, we need to think of a way to stop you getting up every night. I swear you are not normally like this, I would have noticed. Something must be different to make you get up so often.”

“But I don't know why!” Hinata whines, resuming his assault on the tea towel. He wrings it a few more times, staring down at it while he visibly thinks. Tobio waits patiently, rubbing his thumbs over Hinata's skin soothingly where he still holds his arms gently. “What… do I normally do?” Hinata asks eventually, brow still creased in thought.

“Normally you just roll around the bed like a tornado,” Tobio says, with the air of someone who has long since resigned themselves to their spouse never having a normal night’s sleep. “And you get up, sometimes. Just to wander into the kitchen mostly, you go back when I poke you. You’ve never gotten up more than one night in a row though, and the… sleep volleyball is definitely new.”

Hinata’s brow knots up tighter, and he sucks on his lower lip to chew on it in thought, but no revelations seem to come forth. Tobio releases his arms to run a hand through his own hair as he ponders in turn. There has to be something

“What about…” Tobio starts, as he grasps at straws. “When you were little?”

“Huh?”

“It started when you were little right? Didn’t you ever do anything like this when you were a kid, or has it always been just… wandering around?”

Hinata stares up at the ceiling as he thinks hard. “I… have no idea,” he says honestly. “I don’t remember anything, obviously, but I guess… maybe? Mum did always say it was troublesome.”

“Call her,” Tobio essentially demands, clinging onto this thin shred of hope.

“What?”

“Call her,” Tobio repeats, irritably. “Ask her if you started playing sports or did any other weird shit in your sleep as a kid and what you did to stop it.”

“I’m not- I can’t-“ Hinata protests, a furious, embarrassed flush staining the bridge of his nose. “I’m an adult!” He whinges – Tobio raises an ironic eyebrow – “I don’t want to call her about stuff like that-

“I will,” Tobio threatens. “I’ll ask her. I’ll ask her right now.”

He moves with decisiveness to do just that (though it’s mostly a bluff – not that he has any issues with calling his mother-in-law, he just doesn’t know where his phone is.)

Hinata flings himself to wrap two strong arms around Tobio's waist, whining piteously. “No, no!” He pleads and then immediately withers under the force of Tobio’s glare. “I’ll call her,” he promises, pressing his increasingly red face into Tobio’s pyjama shirt. “After practice.”

Tobio squints down at the tuft of red hair by his armpit. “Promise?” He growls. He really, really wants to sleep one full night before he truly loses it. The tiredness is starting to make him feel irritable and twitchy, and the resulting snappishness is frustrating.

“I promise,” Hinata sighs and releases his iron grip around his waist. He still looks uncomfortable, a lingering flush still clinging to his cheeks and neck, but his eyes are set. And Tobio knows to trust those eyes, once that little glint appears, lighting up the brown. He bends to press a kiss to a red cheek in gratitude and stands up swiftly before Hinata can chase for anything more. They’re going to be late at this rate, and besides – Hinata can have all the kisses he wants once he’s fulfilled his end of the bargain.

True to his word, at least, Hinata does fetch his phone once they return to their apartment later that evening after practice. He ushers Tobio into the kitchen and orders him to make a start on dinner, and then hustles to the sofa with his phone pressed to his ear. Normally, Hinata prefers to cook himself, but Tobio suspects this is his way of keeping him out of the way while he’s on the phone. No matter – the living space is open, and the sound will carry across anyway.

So Tobio clatters around the kitchen, getting his meal prep under way and unabashedly eavesdrops as Hinata starts speaking from across the room.

“Hi Mum- yeah no, everything is fine, how are you…?”

It trails off into hums and ‘okays’ and the usual pleasantries and Tobio bangs a pot of water down on the hob a little harder than was really necessary – a silent way of urging Hinata to get on with it.

“Actually, I was just wondering… remember when I was a kid? And I used sleep wal- yeah. … Yeah. Well, kind of…”

Promising, Tobio allows, as he dumps his ingredients into the pot on the stove and stirs them. He ear wigs as Hinata asks the odd question but otherwise hums along to whatever his mother is telling him. When Tobio glances over his shoulder, his husband is rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, but he is smiling. Good. At least whatever he’s being told isn’t so humiliating to him that it’ll become a roadblock to a solution.

“Alright, I see. … Yes, yes, thank-you. Tell Natsu I said hi. Mmm, I will. Okay, okay, I gotta go, love you, bye.”

“How was that?” Tobio calls as Hinata hangs up and blows out a breath.

Leaving his stew to simmer on a low heat, Tobio washes and dries his hands, and then crosses the room to flop down onto the sofa next to Hinata.

“Well,” Hinata starts, and there’s a little glint of mischief in his eye. He lifts his arm and throws it over Tobio’s shoulders, and Tobio shuffles a little closer obediently, bending his head close. “She said there was one time – before I discovered volleyball – where I got really into baseball for a month because Japan won a tournament or something. And apparently I’d always sleepwalked, right, ever since I was tiny and could get out of bed on my own, but for a week I slept walked around the house with a baseball bat.”

“Oh my god,” Tobio groans, torn between horror and extreme amusement.

Hinata’s smile widens. Clearly he thinks it’s hilarious, at least. “Yup. Broke at least three ornaments… and the tv.”

He exchanges a look with Tobio. They look at each at other for a beat, before they both start snorting.

“Okay, okay, no but I did make Natsu cry at one point so my Mum did have to intervene,” Hinata says around his giggle. He takes a couple of breaths to sober himself before continuing. “She said apparently she just used to… talk to me, for a bit, before I went to bed. Something about letting me 'get it all out of my system’ before I went to sleep, and then I stopped doing it.”

“Why didn’t she just… hide the bat?”

“I kept-“

“- finding it,” Tobio finishes, with a nod of solidarity. Stupid question, really, he’s already tried hiding the volleyballs littered around their flat to no avail. There was one moment where he considered popping them, but the thought had left him feeling vaguely ill, so he didn’t (after apologising to the yellow and blue leather reverently.)

He glances up once he notices Hinata has fallen quiet, and frowns at the odd, pensive expression that has fallen over his husband’s face. “What?” He asks, nudging Hinata’s knee with his own. “This is an easy solution, what’s the problem?”

Hinata lifts his arm from around his shoulders and pokes his index fingers together. “I’m sorry I’m… difficult?” He replies, but his voice is lifted in its inflection at the end – like he’s not sure of his own word choice. “First it was me moving too much, and now it’s this- I know you just want to fall into bed and go to sleep, so-“

“Shouyou,” Tobio interrupts, before this can further devolve into nonsense. “What you are asking me to do, is basically hold you in bed and talk about volleyball with you until we both fall asleep, because you are too excited about the new season and you keep getting up because of it. That about right?”

“... That’s about the gist of it, yeah,” Hinata confirms with a reluctant little nod.

Tobio pouts, trying to figure out the problem. Cuddling and talking about the best sport in the world with his favourite person until they both fall asleep. Getting to stay asleep for a whole eight hours, uninterrupted. There were absolutely no downsides to any of this arrangement. “What’s the problem again?” He asks, just for clarification.

“You don’t mind?” Hinata says hopefully.

“… Why would I mind…” Tobio says slowly, deeply confused, “holding my husband and talking about volleyball?”

Hinata tilts his head this way and that. “Fair point,” he agrees after a beat, and he lets a sunny smile spread over his face. Tobio has just enough time to return a small one back before Hinata is shuffling across the sofa to clamber into his lap, bullying his way into Tobio’s space like it was his all along. “Hey,” he murmurs, as he leans in close and trails the tip of his nose up and down Tobio’s bridge. “What about… one extra thing, before we do all that?” He kisses Tobio long and deep, and then leans back just enough to waggle his eyebrows suggestively.

Tobio huffs a laugh against him, grabs Hinata's lower lip between his teeth and tugs. Lets his hands slide under Hinata's shirt and over the strong muscles in his back. “Dinner first,” he says lowly, and grunts when Hinata changes the angle of their kiss just so and leans his weight onto Tobio – forcing him backwards against the cushions.

Hinata plants his hands on the back of the sofa either side of Tobio’s head and kisses him deep, soft little sighs pouring out whenever Tobio’s wandering hands trail over something sensitive. “I won’t sleepwalk tonight,” he promises, a twinkle in his eye.

“You’d better not,” Tobio grunts, tugging him a little closer and relishing the gasp it elicits. “If you get up again tonight I might have to consider divorce.”

Hinata lifts one hand from the sofa to tug at Tobio's hair – not tightly, just enough to show his annoyance – and Tobio snickers. Hinata plants one last smooch, loud and obnoxious, against his cheek before he pulls away, red faced and a little breathless. “Who else would you marry? The volleyball?” He asks, laughter in his voice.

“The volleyball is a very good bed partner,” Tobio says solemnly. Hinata should know – he snuggles one every night.

Hinata catches his eye and then they’re both laughing, the ridiculousness of the situation (and a slight amount of sleep deprivation, on Tobio’s part) getting to them and tickling at their ribcages. Then the oven timer beeps from where Tobio had set it earlier and Hinata levers his way off of Tobio’s lap with a few remaining giggles.

“You’re the best husband,” Hinata says as he tugs Tobio to his feet in one smooth motion. “Please don’t divorce me.”

“I’ll try,” Tobio smirks, because he knows this, and he strolls into the kitchen with Hinata hot on his heels and jabbering in his ear.

And later that night, after dinner and their extracurricular activities, wrapped around each other a bit too sticky but too comfortable to care – Hinata babbles happily about that week’s practices and next week’s practices and their upcoming game and all the new moves he wants to try.

Tobio simply holds his husband tightly, hums where it’s appropriate and lets himself drift off slowly to the sound of volleyball in his ears.

And doesn’t wake up again for eight whole hours.