Tsukishima thinks about Yamaguchi a lot. An embarrassing amount of a lot. It gets to the point where it starts clouding his normal thoughts, which consist of things like how to diplomatically avoid his brother when he visits from university, what to pack for lunch tomorrow, what degree of red-faced does he want to tease Hinata today. One day he’s telling Hinata that as high as he can jump, he won’t ever jump to Tsukishima’s height, and then he’s saying, “You won’t even get to Yamaguchi’s height either,” before he stops and realizes what he’s saying.

Hinata stares up at him and blinks. “What does Yamaguchi have to do with anything?” he asks, because he has to be annoying like that.

They’re at a point where Hinata will refer to himself and Tsukishima as friends, even if Tsukishima won’t. So Tsukishima shoves his hand into Hinata’s face and says, “Shut up,” and hears the sound of Hinata sticking his tongue out at him at his back.

Still, it’s incredibly bothersome to just be doing something like homework or browsing tv channels before a voice in the back of his mind is saying I wonder if Yamaguchi needs help with this problem or he’d want to watch that. It’s niggling, and persistent, and only grows by the day. A month ago it hadn’t been this intent; Tsukishima had managed to handle it then, even texted Yamaguchi once in a while to get the answers to the random questions he’s wondering about him, even if Yamaguchi happens to be busy doing something. He probably is, but he always answers Tsukishima, anyway.

Now he’ll wondering about every damn thing, like the ratio of Yamaguchi’s colored underwear to greyscale, because he’d noticed the balance between his only moments ago. Or he’s thinking about what Yamaguchi’s doing right now, because it’s the weekend, and figures he probably wouldn’t care. But he would listen to Yamaguchi talk and talk anyway, and as uninteresting as it’s bound to be, he still wants to know.

He is not slow on the uptake. He long ago had suspicions of what this might’ve been; he never figured that they would grow into fruition for him to truly consider. Having a crush on one’s friend is not unheard of; having a crush on one’s best friend isn’t, also, though it’s slightly inconvenient by the way Yamaguchi will always greet him with a bright and happy, “Tsukki!” every morning, and Tsukishima will feel this urge at the corner of his lips, begging to smile. And maybe Tsukishima starts walking too close, shoulders bumping every so often, letting his fingers linger when he steals one of Yamaguchi’s pens, even though he has his own. He has no idea if Yamaguchi notices or not, but even if he does he doesn’t indicate it. For Yamaguchi, at least, nothing changes.

Tsukishima convinces himself it’s a good thing. It’s hard to evaluate Yamaguchi’s density, though, because Tsukishima knows he’s not dumb, he’s just not… Tsukishima. Once upon a time he might’ve considered Yamaguchi’s intelligence inferior to his own, but there’s a voice in the back of his mind that sounds a little bit like Suga that’s telling him there’s no inferiority, only difference. So Yamaguchi can pick up maths and Japanese literature and chemistry fine, but he might be just as terrible as social interaction as Kageyama is. Tsukishima does recall the time Yamaguchi had been bullied, though it wouldn’t be fair to pin the blame on Yamaguchi. And he’s perfectly capable at making friends, and during Valentine’s Day a girl had given him chocolates and Yamaguchi had accepted with a scratch behind his head and a blush that was more embarrassed than pleased.

Inanely, Tsukishima recognizes his thoughts as a growing obsession. And that is dangerous. And, anyway, Yamaguchi just keeps looking more attractive to him by the day, and the whole concept of that is utterly stupid, considering the fact that they’ve seen each other about 300 days every year for the past five years or so. After you’ve known someone for five years they’re not supposed to get more attractive, but then Tsukishima finds himself staring a little too long at Yamaguchi’s forearms in the middle of class, or the nice way his freckles scatter across his cheeks. One time Yamaguchi sneezes and Tsukishima finds the way he blows his nose adorable, and it is hitting a point where Tsukishima is getting secondhand embarrassment from himself.

“Yamaguchi,” he says, as Yamaguchi sniffles and wipes at his nostrils again before going to throw the tissue out.

“Yeah?” he says, heading towards his bedroom’s trash can.

They’re studying at Yamaguchi’s house because Akiteru is home and Tsukishima can only stand so much noise. He usually uses the headache excuse to coop himself up in his room, but Yamaguchi had invited him over earlier today and Tsukishima carefully waited five minutes before answering the text. Akiteru’s not even loud, but his parents are, and then there are questionsabout volleyball and it’s all very terrible.

Well Yamaguchi talks to him about volleyball, but that’s easier and Tsukishima can talk snidely about Hinata and Kageyama with him. And Tsukishima looks up from where he’s studying for his final exams to glance over Yamaguchi appraisingly for this – Yamaguchi, who can shit talk as well as Tsukishima can, enjoys it, even.

Yamaguchi’s turned around from his trash can. He scrunches his nose. “Is there something on my face?”

“Oh. No,” says Tsukishima. He puts his book down. “There’s something you should know.”

Yamaguchi sits gingerly at the edge of his bed. “Yeah?” he asks, though his attention is returned to his book sprawled on his mattress. Tsukishima frowns from Yamaguchi’s desk, where he’s studying – he is not going to confess to Yamaguchi holding only a fraction of his attention.

“Yamaguchi, I’m serious,” he says, and Yamaguchi’s eyes snap up.

“Oh, you are,” Yamaguchi says, and then he’s dangling his legs off the edge of his bed, smiling. “What is it, Tsukki?”

The way he says Tsukki rings loudly in Tsukishima’s ears that he has to take a second to catch his breath. When that’s over, and Yamaguchi is patient, Tsukishima still finds it hard to come up with words because Yamaguchi is in an old hoodie that is too big for him, which somehow makes him look smaller. It makes no sense, but warmth is trickling down Tsukishima’s arms that he momentarily forgets what he’s doing here, again.

“You are so distracting,” he says, accidentally out loud.

Yamaguchi’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth, but Tsukishima can practically feel the flare of his panic that he’s quicker to say, “That’s not – well, I do mean it – ”

“Not helping,” says Yamaguchi, though the worry is out of his eyes because he can probably hear Tsukishima’s unspoken apology. It’s embarrassing how they’ve come to be the type to understand each other without saying anything, but that just makes the warmth from his arms creep to his shoulders.

“Sorry,” Tsukishima says, needlessly. He adjusts his glasses. “What I’ve been meaning to say is, I like you, and it’s been distracting me. So it’ll be easier for me to get it out there.”

He waits, but Yamaguchi is just sitting on his bed. It’s hard to read his expression, but he’s not shouting or crying or trying to kick him out, so it’s a good response. Tsukishima turns back to the desk to resume his studying.

After a second, he hears a broken noise. “Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says, and when Tsukishima turns to him, he sees that Yamaguchi is grinning. It’s actually a bit terrifying, so Tsukishima scoots a little as Yamaguchi starts toward him.

“What,” he says annoyedly, trying to get back to his book.

“Tsukki, you like me.” There’s pure joy in Yamaguchi’s voice that makes Tsukishima’s heart bubble at his throat a little.

Yamaguchi’s knelt next to him, even though that’s ridiculous because Tsukishima is in a chair and sitting taller than him. But Yamaguchi lifts himself up a little, and asks, “Am I allowed to kiss you?” and Tsukishima practically splutters with surprise.

“What – why?” he says, though he doesn’t move away when Yamaguchi crowds up in his space, getting threateningly closer.

“Because you said you like me, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says. He’s smiling so hard. Tsukishima vaguely regrets their friendship giving him confidence, except he doesn’t at all. “And I like you back. Obviously.”

“Why is it obvious?” Tsukishima demands.

Yamaguchi’s mouth is so close to his, and Tsukishima doesn’t know if he hates it because they’re not farther away, or not closer. “It’s always been obvious,” Yamaguchi says.

Tsukishima rolls his eyes and presses his mouth into a firm line, even though every bone in his body wants to do otherwise. “It has not been,” he says. “If anything, I’ve been more obvious.”

Yamaguchi laughs. His breath tickles Tsukishima’s lips, and he still has not kissed him yet. “You’re the hardest person to read, Tsukki.”

“You read me the best,” says Tsukishima, and then temptation washes over everything else – he surges forward and kisses Yamaguchi, because why shouldn’t he, if Yamaguchi is giving himself to him on a silver platter? Yamaguchi shivers and he’s smiling into Tsukishima’s mouth, and Tsukishima finds that kind of hot so he lets it slide. Yamaguchi is damp and happy against him, hands sliding to the back of Tsukishima’s neck and fingers brushing against his hair. Tsukishima puts his hands on Yamaguchi’s waist and hikes him to his feet, slotting him so Yamaguchi is standing between his legs. It would be easier if Yamaguchi maybe broke apart from their kiss, but his lips are eager on Tsukishima’s that Tsukishima has to draw back, inch by inch, until Yamaguchi’s lips are parted in the air and red, eyes fluttering open.

“What are you doing?” he asks hazily, and Tsukishima rolls his eyes.

“That’s going to be back for your spine,” he says. He presses the flat of his palm against Yamaguchi’s back and Yamaguchi shivers again, but the expression on his face is bright.

Studying can wait for later. Tsukishima says, “Let’s go to your bed,” and Yamaguchi chirps, “Okay!”

Yamaguchi gets there first, but Tsukishima gently nudges him on his back and crawls on his elbows, bends his head down, and kisses Yamaguchi from above. Yamaguchi says against his lips, “Is this better for my back?” and Tsukishima says, “Shut up,” but he’s thinking about all the ways to make Yamaguchi smile against him, love this. So he tickles his fingertips at the hem of Yamaguchi’s shirt as he grazes his tongue across the top of Yamaguchi’s mouth, briefly. Yamaguchi makes a happy sound and the vibrations against Tsukishima’s lips are the best thing in the world.

Tsukishima lets out this deep, embarrassing noise.

Yamaguchi laughs, but he also shifts his hips under Tsukishima. “You sound ridiculous,” Yamaguchi admonishes, and he’s also hard.

Tsukishima can’t press back his smirk. “And you’re turned on by it, so which one of us is more ridiculous?” and Yamaguchi tugs him back down again until they’re kissing, until Tsukishima licks at the dip of Yamaguchi’s collarbone and it’s just as fascinating as Yamaguchi’s mouth, so he kisses there too. Yamaguchi sighs and his hand flutters at Tsukishima’s neck, while Tsukishima admires the small pink welts that appear on Yamaguchi’s skin when he sucks hard enough to elicit small squeaks from Yamaguchi’s mouth.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi breathes, and Tsukishima raises himself back up to kiss his name off Yamaguchi’s lips. He’s hard in his pants, too, but being with Yamaguchi is easy – it feels no less than other days they’ve hung out, to practice volleyball, to play video games, to study, to gossip about their classmates and volleyball. Tsukishima can take his time, and he wants to.

That is, until Yamaguchi is scrabbling breathlessly at his shoulders, and when Tsukishima looks up at him, Yamaguchi’s eyes are dark and glinting. “I, um,” he says.

Tsukishima doesn’t need to try to interpret the look in his eyes. “Get your pants off,” he states plainly.

Yamaguchi nods, and they both sit up for a brief second to shuck off their respective clothes and throw them on the ground.

Tsukishima has never seen Yamaguchi naked before – maybe an upper thigh, hidden by towel after a shower at sleepovers, and brief glimpses of his chest that just happen over the years. Now he can see Yamaguchi in full and it’s – well, Tsukishima doesn’t know that he’s staring, until Yamaguchi is shyly curling into himself and says, “Um.”

Tsukishima extends a hand. Yamaguchi turns beet red and takes it, and Tsukishima kisses his upper shoulder. “Do you have lubricant?” he asks.

Yamaguchi nods and points toward his bedside drawer. Tsukishima takes it out and contemplates.

“What do you want to do?” he asks Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi is barely touching him, red cock dribbling against his bedsheets, and he flushes when Tsukishima meets his eyes. “You want – me to – ?”

“Whatever you want,” says Tsukishima, because Yamaguchi is hovering above him and Tsukishima will say almost yes to anything Yamaguchi says. Also, he can’t stand it anymore, so he flits his hand over the tip of Yamaguchi’s cock. Just briefly.

Yamaguchi stammers something incoherent, and then, “You could… you know, in me,” and Tsukishima says, “In you?” and Yamaguchi says, “Yeah.”

“Only fingers, or,” Tsukishima asks.

Yamaguchi shakes his head and his eyes dart to his nightstand again. Tsukishima can take a hint. He grabs a condom this time and studies it carefully.

“Were you planning on taking girls home any time soon?” he asks, trying to keep his voice light.

“Oh – no,” Yamaguchi says quickly. “It was – just case I ever – you know.” He bites his lip and fidgets.

Tsukishima rolls his eyes and presses a kiss at the corner of Yamaguchi’s mouth. “Well it’s a good thing now then,” he says, and pops open the bottle of lube.

He drenches his fingers, slicks one and two into Yamaguchi until he’s a keeling mess against Tsukishima’s shoulder. Tsukishima is getting progressively harder at the sounds Yamaguchi is making, and Yamaguchi is on his palms and trembling over him. Tsukishima kisses his shoulder again and says, “On your back,” so they switch places and he reslots his fingers up into Yamaguchi’s wet heat.

Yamaguchi giggles, rocking his hips down on Tsukishima. It makes Tsukishima’s mouth water. “You still have your glasses on,” Yamaguchi says.

“I need them to see you,” Tsukishima says plaintively, adjusting his digits around a little.

Yamaguchi giggles again, but then his mouth goes into an o shape, and Tsukishima knows he has done something right. He considers lubing up a third finger, but Yamaguchi says, “Can you – Tsukki, I want, I want you now,” and he’s tugging at Tsukishima’s back and it’s hot. Dazedly, Tsukishima nods and says, “Okay,” and prepares himself in a haze, because he can’t wait to get inside Yamaguchi, he wants it too, wants Yamaguchi asking and beaming and quivering messily, under him, all over him.

So he pushes in carefully, but either Yamaguchi is good at controlling his facial muscles or it doesn’t hurt at all. In fact, Yamaguchi just looks up at him happily, and takes Tsukishima’s glasses off even though they’re already dangling at the edge of his nose. “These are so fogged I doubt it’ll make a difference,” Yamaguchi says.

Tsukishima pushes in another centimeter and Yamaguchi yelps, almost drops Tsukishima’s glasses. Tsukishima actually laughs, and Yamaguchi is babbling and sighing from underneath him. Tsukishima takes his glasses back and puts them on the nightstand.

“Thank you,” he says, to Yamaguchi, “for your hospitality.”

Yamaguchi laughs and Tsukishima presses himself to the hilt. Yamaguchi’s breath hitches and they’re both red-faced and sweating and it’s possibly the best thing Tsukishima has ever experienced, better than blocking Ushijima Wakatoshi, grinning at that Shiratorizawa Guess Monster guy. This is better, laughing into his best friend’s mouth, and Tsukishima starts moving into him as he does, wanting Yamaguchi to feel all of it, to know what he does to Tsukishima.

Yamaguchi lets out little whimpers as Tsukishima thrusts. He rocks the mattress and maybe it’s making a little noise, so Tsukishima keeps his thrusts shallow and kind of tender until Yamaguchi is tugging at his shoulders, digging his nails against his shoulder blades, murmuring, “Harder, Tsukki, please.” And, well, Tsukishima can’t say no to that, even though it’s Yamaguchi’s family, but – well, they used to fake-wrestle on Yamaguchi’s bed, and Tsukishima would win every time, probably on purpose, so maybe Yamaguchi’s parents will think they’re doing that. So he drives himself in, feeling his balls clench, but wanting to get Yamaguchi off first before himself.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi gasps out, and Tsukishima fucks him long but enough, glides his teeth across the top of Yamaguchi’s shoulders. There are freckles there and he kisses them. He gets a hand around Yamaguchi for hardly a second when Yamaguchi comes, and Tsukishima kisses him so Yamaguchi groans loud and open-mouthed into Tsukishima.

He’s still panting when Tsukishima pulls back, fucks himself in once and shallowly, orgasm hitting at the very edge of it. Tsukishima comes with a shudder, lets himself fall apart against Yamaguchi, clutching at his waist.

He’s breathless but happy as he pulls out, tying up the condom and tossing it into Yamaguchi’s trash can, with the tissue that Yamaguchi had used to blow his nose not long ago. Tsukishima smiles at the thought, and then wants to frown at himself.

He rolls to his side so he’s facing Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi is beaming. He pokes Tsukishima’s lips, and Tsukishima furrows his eyebrows, because apparently he can’t control his lips right now.

“You’re smiling,” Yamaguchi says.

Tsukishima rolls his eyes and reaches over to the nightstand. “I need my glasses so this is fair,” he says.

Yamaguchi is no less bright when he gets his glasses on, though. He says, “You only smile like that when you play volleyball.”

“Shut up,” says Tsukishima, and Yamaguchi laughs, and Tsukishima rolls onto him, his glasses wedged between their noses, to do it himself.

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by aroceu

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