Hinata fucking hates homework. He also fucking hates Kageyama, but at least with Kageyama at his side the chance of getting a question right goes from 50% to 55%. If he’s really honest though, Hinata’s just nervous about going to Kageyama’s house for the first time. What if he lives with eighteen other siblings? What if all of the siblings have the same piercing eyes and resting bitch face? What if they have a dog? What if the dog has resting bitch face?
Why hasn’t he opened the door yet? Hinata only rang the doorbell like three whole minutes ago.
As if on cue, the Kageyamas’ door swings open, nearly smacking Hinata in the face. He jolts in surprise once at the force of the swing, and then again when he is face-to-face with Kageyama’s rock hard, practically glistening abs. Wait a minute, they are glistening. Hinata stops ogling Kageyama’s sixteen pack and meets his eyes. Kageyama tosses his (wet) hair back with a dramatic flip (a whisper of because I’m worth it drifts through the air, much to Hinata’s confusion). Kageyama wipes away a single drop of water trailing down his throat with an obnoxiously fluffy white towel.
“Would you stop that?” Hinata snaps.
Kageyama glares, and Hinata shrinks back. “What?” He growls.
Hinata gestures at his entire body. “What the fuck dude, you’re like, twelve.”
“I’m fifteen and a half,” Kageyama snaps right back at him. “And besides, Iwaizumi Hajime was my senpai,” he adds, like that explained anything.
“O,” Hinata replies, so apparently, it did. “Well…could you like…put a shirt on?”
Kageyama sighs with the patience of someone who had a bullshit tolerance meter two inches tall (compensated by his dick, he explained to Hinata, who assured him that he didn’t really want to know that. Ever.) “I was going to before you rang the damn doorbell.” He gestures inside. “Come on in.”
The inside of Kageyama’s house was normal. Too normal. Someone as weird as Kageyama couldn’t have spawned from a nice-looking house like this without a single speck of dust on the bookshelf or shiny wood floors. Hinata strokes his beard (“Oh my fucking god please stop,” Kageyama groaned) and channels his inner Sherlock Holmes. Surely there was a clue around here somewhere.
“My room is up the stairs to the left,” Kageyama says. “Break something and I’ll wreck your shit.” He wanders off downstairs to what Hinata assumes is the laundry room. Hinata scampers upstairs in a flash, determined to find proof that Kageyama’s house was as strange as he was.
Unfortunately, it was as disappointingly normal as the rest of the house. At least Kageyama had some cool posters on the wall. “Pepe Kaiju” featured a Godzilla-like creature with a creepy, humanoid frog face stepping all over a city made completely of “feels guy” faces, as they were labeled. A surprised-looking snowy owl with a speech bubble with the English text “ORLY?” in it was looking at a poster declaring that aliens weren’t real with “SUCK IT OIKAWA-SAN” scrawled across it in sharpie. You know, normal guy stuff. Hinata huffed. And here he’d thought he’d see at least one weird thing.
Meanwhile, in the laundry room, Kageyama was frantically digging through his laundry to find at least one shirt that wasn’t soaked through with sweat, covered in dirt, or otherwise nasty. He was getting desperate. How could all of his clothes be dirty?
There it was.
Of all the sweaters knit by Satan’s hellspawn in the ass crack of the Underworld, that thing had to survive. What was it doing in Kageyama’s house? Who the fuck bought it? He certainly hadn’t. One day he had just seen it hanging in his closet, a hideous pastel pink and as fuzzy as a three-week old kitten. Kageyama eyes it warily, as if it will bite him.
But, it was either wear that, wear something that smelled like a small animal had died in it, or go shirtless. Kageyama sighs in defeat.
Hinata doesn’t really know what he expects when Kageyama slams open his bedroom door. He supposed that, like other boys, Kageyama would choose to wear a practice shirt, or a tank top, or some other nondescript T-shirt-type-of-thing. He certainly isn’t expecting Kageyama to burst in wearing a sweater that’s so tight on him it looks like it was made for an infant, doing nothing to hide his twenty-four pack and making his arm muscles strain against the cheap-ass fabric that looks like it was plucked from the butts of tiny pink ducklings.
He definitely doesn’t expect the sweater to be of the titty window variety, but holy fuck, there Hinata fucking is, with an eyeful of Kageyama boob and cleavage that even Saeko-neechan would weep over. Hinata feels like crying, too, but he’s not sure if it’s because of fear or confusion. As a good pal, a great guy friend, a best bro, Hinata should laugh so hard he falls on his ass and never let Kageyama live the boob window sweater down.
But because Hinata usually wants to sock his rival in the face and because he is (unrelatedly) really fucking gay, Hinata pops a boner.
It’s like, a super boner. So hard he nearly rips through his far more sensible jeans and is propelled dick first towards Kageyama. Hinata nearly grabs his junk and yells “woah, slow down there pardner,” but he’s too stunned to say anything but low-volume pterodactyl screeches.
“Are you hard?” Kageyama asks, morbidly curious.
“Don’t look at my fucking boner when we fight,” Hinata growls, snapping from his trance and covering his crotch in a way that draws more attention to it. “Why are you wearing that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“It’s literally the middle of summer and I can see sweat dripping down your face.”
“Well, everything else was dirty!”
“How can that be the last thing left unsullied by your setter filth.”
“How many times do you think I’ve actually worn this, of course it’s not dirty!”
“Besides, you wanted me to put a shirt on in the first place.”
“Yeah but…” Hinata can’t take his eyes off the tid. It’s just sitting there, calling to him. Eat me Hinata, it says. Why the fuck would I eat you? Hinata replies. Bro you just got the biggest teenage hard-on of your life you tell me, the tiddy replies, snorting. Damn, Hinata thinks. Even Kageyama’s booby can outwit me.
“Let’s just do our work,” Kageyama sighs, sitting down at the table in the center of his room. When he flops down, his pecs do the little jiggle-wiggle and Hinata sits down too so that he doesn’t collapse from lack of blood in his brain.
“Calm down, Small Giant,” Hinata attempts to mollify his dick. He mimes patting it gently in comfort.
“Please stop talking to your penis,” Kageyama begs.
Hinata tries. He really does. But Kageyama’s tatas are right there on display for the world to see, and Hinata ends up getting into more telepathic arguments with them than he gets schoolwork done.
“Hinata, do you know the answer to number four?” Kageyama asks after a long moment of chewing his pencil in contemplation.
“Could I, like, lick just one of them?” Hinata replies. Kageyama scowls and glances over to see that, fucking hell, Hinata hadn’t done a single problem on the math paper.
“Have you been staring at my chest this entire time?” Kageyama asks in disbelief.
“Um. I mean, maybe?” Hinata says, more tentatively.
“Why are you so fascinated with the boob window sweater? It’s just a sweater,” Kageyama sighs, exasperated.
“I’m not interested,” Hinata clarifies. He falls to his side, extending one lég into the air at a perfectly ninety degree angle. “Deez nuts sure are though.”
“Fuck, fine,” Kageyama gives in. “I can’t get my 55% if you’re not focused.”
Hinata scrambles over to Kageyama immediately and plops himself down into Kageyama’s lap. “My city now,” he whispers into the tids as he dives into Kageyama’s cleavage, licking his way to victory. (A faint nnnnooooo… of defeat can be heard from the boobies.)
“Dude,” Kageyama says. “Your dick is poking my dick. That’s a little gay, dude.”
Hinata surfaces from the titty window. “Nuh-uh, boobs are totally straight. And if you’re with best bromantically brosexual lifebro and you bump boners, it’s totally fine. Tanaka-san and Noya-san told me that there’s this really cool trick where you put your dicks in each other’s mo—”
“Shhhh,” Kageyama shushes him, shoving Hinata’s face back in his cleavage. “Only sweet man titties now.” And what the hell, that’s what Hinata was there for in the first place.
For a kid with a single cell for a brain, Hinata was pretty good at licking boobs. He didn’t bite too hard, and he knew just how to tease Kageyama before going for the golden nips through the sweater. And boy, if that didn’t make Kageyama want to take off his clothes, what would??
“Hinata…” Kageyama moans. “Let’s frickle frackle.”
Hinata looks up. “You mean jingle jangle?”
“Do the no pants dance?”
“Take a trip to pound town?”
“Stuff the taco?”
“Smack the salmon?”
“Butter the biscuit?”
“Lust and thrust?”
“Have sex?” Kageyama suggests finally.
“Woah there,” Hinata says, holding up his hands. “I don’t know, that might be going too far.”
“C’mon,” Kageyama whines, grinding up against Hinata and yep, okay, that’s a pretty compelling argument. Hinata tears off their clothes like the 162.8 cm sex beast he is, glinting in the light of Kageyama’s bedroom with that shimmering air of a Sexy Seme (they took the seme/uke quiz forever ago, Noya’s idea).
“How many fingers can you take?” Hinata breathes huskily into Kageyama’s ear.
“How many fingers do you have?” Kageyama replies, equally as huskily.
Hinata holds up two hands each with ten fingers on them. “Holy shit,” Kageyama says. “Is that even legal in volleyball?”
“I don’t know,” Hinata shrugs. “So far all the referees have been too afraid to ask.”
“Wait, but we can use this!” Kageyama exclaims, sitting up. “We can make a strategy utilizing your twenty fingers, come on!”
And so they forgot about having sex and instead talked about volleyball the rest of the evening, clothed in only the titty window sweater between the two of them, because they’re both fucking nerd virgins who can’t even figure out how to get each other laid.
(scout drew all the titty window kagehins it's not even my fault okay pls go love my gay friend)