Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10540659.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Haikyuu!!
  Relationship:
      Kageyama_Tobio/Tsukishima_Kei, Kuroo_Tetsurou/Tsukishima_Kei, Hinata
      Shouyou/Kageyama_Tobio, Azumane_Asahi/Sawamura_Daichi/Sugawara_Koushi,
      Akaashi_Keiji/Bokuto_Koutarou, Sawamura_Daichi/Sugawara_Koushi, Azumane
      Asahi/Nishinoya_Yuu, Azumane_Asahi/Sugawara_Koushi, Iwaizumi_Hajime/
      Oikawa_Tooru
  Character:
      Kageyama_Tobio, Tsukishima_Kei, Kuroo_Tetsurou, Hinata_Shouyou, Azumane
      Asahi, Sugawara_Koushi, Sawamura_Daichi, Akaashi_Keiji, Bokuto_Koutarou,
      Nishinoya_Yuu, Iwaizumi_Hajime, Oikawa_Tooru, Kozume_Kenma, Yamamoto
      Akane, Yamamoto_Taketora, Shimizu_Kiyoko
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Dance, Alternate_Universe_-_Ballet, Paris_(City),
      loosely_inspired_by_Bunheads_-_Sophie_Flack, Historical_References,
      Ballet_Instructor_Asahi, Wellness_Advisor_Suga, Choreographer_Yamamoto,
      Smoking, Complicated_Relationships, Dance_crew, Alternate_Universe_-
      Celebrity, Porn_With_Plot, Friends_With_Benefits, Unhealthy
      Relationships, Anal_Sex, Anal_Fingering, safe_sex, Senior_Staff_Daichi,
      Guest_Visitor_Kiyoko
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-04-04 Updated: 2017-07-19 Chapters: 2/? Words: 9518
****** Featherflex ******
by rainshatteredsky
Summary
     Kageyama Tobio of Japan has finally found a foothold in the hierarchy
     of the celebrated (and cutthroat) Paris Opera Ballet. He finds
     himself pulled into in a swirling world of conspiracies, strange
     relationships, and sabotage, but he might just find true love, real
     friendship, and some self awareness along the way. Past and future
     will collide in the present as a sinister figure looms over his
     efforts to become the Danseur Étoile and fulfill his lifelong dream.
     Explicit content in Chapter 2.
Notes
     Welcome to my new series! It's loosely based on the book Bunheads by
     Sophie Flack and my experiences with classical ballet training. I'm
     really excited to share all that I've learned from my research, and I
     hope that I have some exciting moments in store for everyone!
     My lovely friend Tempestt (blackbloodedredreaper) who inspires me
     every single day just dedicated her new fic ("University From Hell")
     to me, and it absolutely made my day. It's shaping up to be a really
     funny work, and she also has tons of other AMAZING fics. If you like
     kurotsukki, or even just good characterization, enjoyable plots, and
     Haikyuu!!, you should totally check her out!
***** Selfish *****
Kageyama entered the studio lobby and knelt to open his bag, digging through it
until he found his flat shoes. Methodically he stripped off his warm-ups, threw
his stuff into a locker in the boy’s dressing room, and walked in stocking feet
to his usual place at the barre.
The studio was lovely, as expected of a place that elevated dancers from the
bustling streets of the city to the exclusive spotlights of the Paris Opera
House, though the students looked a little worse for wear. Kageyama was aware
on some level that the average person would have a difficult time with the
eight or more hours a day classes and rehearsals required, but for him, it was
simply a necessity. It didn’t matter if he was tired, so long as he got to
dance.
He was early, as usual, and began his vigorous stretching routine. Kageyama
groaned as he did a few sweeping grande battement facing the barre to loosen up
his hips. He kicked his leg out to the side and allowed the momentum to carry
it across his body so the motion resembled a pendulum. He did a few of them,
glancing behind him at the mirror to check his alignment, before gently pulling
his leg from the outswing into passe and sliding it back to the ground to stand
in first position. He had intended to repeat the exercise on the other side,
but on his first kick, the inside of his foot caught someone in the side.
Kageyama paused and turned his head, about to mumble an apology when he locked
eyes with the person in question. It was a boy, taller and thinner than even
himself, with golden blonde hair left long enough to curl around his temples.
“Watch yourself there, King,” said the dancer, the corner of his lips pulling
into a smirk. “You get too close to the sun, you might just be burned.”
It wasn’t a genuine threat, not really. This was Tsukishima Kei, a foreigner
like him, who apparently had nothing better to do than try to rile him up- and
in their shared native language, whom no one around them understood. The
unfortunate part was that it worked well enough to make his eye twitch
slightly, even though it had taken Kageyama a long time to understand the
reference.
Kageyama took a deep breath and shuffled away down the barre, lifting his
fingers and placing them back on the barre delicately so he was no longer
clutching the wood. He looked straight ahead and finished his repetitions, but
it was harder to keep his shoulders back and his head up now.
Talking with Tsukishima had cost him, giving him barely enough time to finish
stretching out his quads and hamstrings and do his core exercises. Retaining
his strength and lean muscle tone was key in his mind; falling behind wasn’t an
option. He was slipping on his flats as the instructor entered and stood up,
long limbs unfolding like a graceful flower.
He angled away from the barre to bow to Master Asahi along with the rest of the
class, while the man in question waved his hands in embarrassment as if it
wasn’t just a formality. Kageyama didn’t mind taking class with Azumane, a
retired soloist, but he was always uncomfortable watching the man get bullied
by his own students.
The dancers of mixed genders, races, and ages all had one thing in common: they
liked to take advantage of him to skip class and had made a game out of seeing
how far he could be pushed before running to another staff member. Tsukishima
swore up and down that he’d seen Azumane cry before in the arms of their
wellness supervisor, but while Kageyama didn’t doubt he was right, he had a
fair conviction that Tsukishima played a part in the events leading up to that.
He was a good teacher, fair and patient, which was a gift from God Himself when
compared to his colleagues. Azumane also did a lot of his own demonstrations,
putting on his flat shoes and walking them through the more difficult
combinations, which was unanimously appreciated by his students since it saved
them all the embarrassment of being caught confused or having to ask a
question. Rumor had it that he was in the process of creating his own original
work of choreography, and would be holding open auditions. He’d better learn to
stick up for himself by then, Kageyama thought, because the claws really came
out when there were roles on the line.
The barre was slow and through, giving him time to recalibrate the muscles that
twinged in his back from yesterday’s modern workshop. However, the class picked
up steadily, incorporating combinations tricky enough to force Kageyama’s brain
to wake up. By the time they were all bowing to Azumane and thanking him for
class, he was drenched in sweat and ready for their next rehearsal.
Before that, though, he thankfully remembered to duck out and change his shirt.
When he’d first come to the company he’d been hard pressed to find a pas de
deux partner that didn’t run away from him, which was totally unfair
considering that Tsukishima apparently lacked sweat glands and wasn’t capable
of being gross. The girls loved the blonde, something that he rubbed in
Kageyama’s face frequently, but it never bothered him the way he felt it
should. Girls, he thought, were unnecessary distractions, like mosquitos
buzzing around in the general vicinity. But if he was being honest, it was
Tsukishima who was the worst culprit, with that stupid little smile and those
perfect arches and that perky-
Kageyama shook his head quickly, his bangs clumpy with sweat stubbornly
sticking to his forehead. Distractions were bad, he reminded himself.
Especially if they were his competitors. He intended to be promoted all the way
to the top, and he didn’t need anyone else for that- especially not Tsukishima
Kei.
His partner walked over to him, the knot on her right pointe shoe starting to
come untucked. Kageyama slowly raised his eyes from the ground, only to find
that he didn’t have to look all that far. She was small, exceedingly so, and
younger than the other apprentices. He looked from side to side, waiting for
someone to jump out and yell ‘Gotcha!’ but he had no such luck.
“I’m Akane,” the girl said, craning her neck a little to look up at him. “I’m
new to the company, it’s nice to meet you.” She was cute, he guessed, with her
hair tied up in a bun that couldn’t quite contain fair curls that peaked out.
Still, nothing about her made him feel… the way a cute girl dressed in barely
anything was supposed to make him feel. She was pretty, maybe, but even knowing
this, he didn’t find her attractive. He stood still for a second, confused,
before she huffed impatiently and he realized he’d been staring.
“You’re Tobio, right?” she asked, and he tried his hardest not to flinch, he
really did. It was hard enough getting used to a place where a completely
different language was spoken, but to be a part of a culture where a stranger
(especially a woman) would address him so informally… well, it was still a bit
of a shock.
“Yes,” he said shortly, and cleared his throat. “Nice… to meet you too.” She
seemed satisfied with this response, giggling a bit. Kageyama was a bit taken
aback by her reaction, but he shrugged it off- if his partner was easy to
please, it just made his job easier.
The choreographer came through the door and clapped his hands sharply, causing
all heads in the room to turn. The girl at Kageyama’s side gasped and did a
small jump/clap-clap on her own. “I didn’t know he was going to be here NOW,”
she stage whispered, seemingly awestruck by Yamamoto, a man they worked with
regularly. Kageyama opened his mouth to inform her of that fact, when a
piercing gaze landed right on him. He shut his mouth and stood straighter, feet
in a perfectly turned out 180 degree line, as he pushed his shoulders back.
However, the eyes zoomed straight to his left, fixing his eyes on Akane, who
was practically vibrating with intensity.
The man sighed, and the tension in the room seemed to drain away a bit,
relieving the uncomfortable pressure. He beckoned to the young woman, and Akane
all but tripped over her ribbon in her haste to get to the front.
“Listen up!” he yelled, his voice unnecessarily loud, like always. “This here
is my little sister, and I want you all to welcome her to the company! And no
funny business, you hear?”
The assembled pairs mumbled agreement, including Kageyama, who was a little
miffed. Of course he got stuck with the younger sister of an important staffer.
One wrong step, and he could be kicked out the door by a perfectly pointed foot
up his ass- quite literally, if Taketora’s impressive bulk was anything to go
by. Then again, if he performed as he usually did, then perhaps he’d be one
step closer to promotion.
Yamamoto let his sister return to Kageyama’s side, who elbowed her until she
looked up then nodded to her untied ribbons. She squeaked, cheeks reddening in
what Kageyama thought was an unnecessary level of embarrassment for such a
silly thing. He tuned her out in favor of watching Yamamoto go over the boy’s
part of the variation, which was surprisingly simple. Akane had to move out of
the way a few times as she fussed with her pointe shoes to avoid being kicked
in the head, but he paid her no mind.
From there they moved on to the first set of lifts, the part where the girls
would join the men on stage. Akane went to stand up but wobbled, and Kageyama
grabbed her elbow to hoist her onto her feet. She shot him a mildly cross look
(perhaps he’d been a little too rough- she was clearly more delicate than he’d
accounted for) but his attention honed in on her older brother as he began to
explain what he wanted from the couples.
Tombe pas de bourre, double pirouette to fifth, glissade asamble, glissade
asemble UP into the shoulder sit. Fair enough, he thought. It was pretty basic
partnering, though it would look impressive when done in unison with beats as
the girls came down to the ground. He realized the allegro music made the whole
thing seem exciting, even if it was just a bunch of moves he’d done thousands
of times strung together, and that was when he knew that he was more than
capable of executing the choreography- he was going to master it, and on the
first try too.
They marked through the steps twice, Kageyama frustrated that he had to reach
down at an unfamiliar angle to grasp her waist. He was thrown off by the
change- every other partner had been able to adapt to his way of working, so
why did she insist on not following him?
The choreographer had the girls clear to the sides of the room as if waiting in
the wings and started up the music, which was as light as the chirping of
birds. Odd choice for a man who had a strip of his hair dyed blonde right down
the center of his head, but it didn’t matter anymore once Kageyama started to
dance.
Nothing mattered anymore. He swept through the motions fluidly, barely having
to think about the choreography. It was instilled in his limbs, and his years
of technique classes kept him from losing form. He was so lost in the movement
that when Akane rushed out to meet him, he almost missed the first step.
The pirouette wasn’t so bad, the pointe shoes giving her enough extra height
that he could get a decent grip on her. On the glissade, Akane faltered a bit
off balance, and she hurriedly whispered ‘Not so high!’ to him. However,
Kageyama was so sure that he could compensate for the mistake that when he
lifted her up to shoulder height, he completely forgot that he didn’t need to
put the same amount of muscle into handling such a small partner.
He realized his error a second before it happened but it was too late. Akane
slid over him so she was dangling down his back with a cry and he just managed
to clamp his hands around his ankles to keep her from crashing into the ground.
Someone hit pause on the music, and a wave of people rushed forward. Unsure of
what to do, Kageyama stood frozen as people eased her down and someone pried
his fingers off so she could be walked over to a chair for some water and a
break. There was talk of calling Sugawara, their nurse/therapist/mother all in
one, but Yamamoto shut that idea down right away. After determining that his
sister wasn’t injured, just frightened, he patted her on the head and told the
others that there was no need to bother Koushi. He looked around at the room,
its occupants ranging from concerned to enraged, and declared they could have
the rest of the rehearsal time off. He didn’t seem happy about it- in fact, he
looked murderous- but he seemed to bite his cheek as he lead his sister out of
the room.
Kageyama found himself standing alone in the middle of the studio in near
darkness. Someone must have switched the lights off to save energy he thought,
and bowed his head. He could have seriously hurt his partner, and he didn’t
apologize or even make sure she was okay. He felt bad but maybe he shouldn’t
have been surprised by his own actions- Tsukishima’s name for him existed for a
reason, and history is supposedly known to repeat itself. He shuddered,
unwilling to revisit that mistake just yet, and headed for the door himself to
go get some air.
Instead of going out the front (where he knew plenty of people from the botched
practice would be hanging around) he took the stairs up to the second floor,
then the third. He made a left and found himself in front of a big window that
provided easy access to the roof. It was one of his favorite places in the
city, even though it didn’t have a spectacular view. It just made him feel big,
important, looking down at the little ants of people going about their day.
However, the hope in his chest sank into a sour feeling in his stomach when he
saw that the window was thrown open and the screen already popped out. Through
the glass he saw a figure sitting on the edge of the roof, smoke drifting from
a lit cigarette he held loosely between his fingers.
Kageyama considered his options. He could go back inside, or he could join
Tsukishima on the roof. Both sounded awful, but before he could decide for
himself, he saw Tsukishima look over his shoulder. He’d been caught, and with
no other choice, he climbed out the window and stood just behind the man.
“Welcome, King,” Tsukishima said with an exaggerated bow of his head, speaking
their native Japanese. He wasn’t smiling this time, or laughing, and his
strangely bland reaction to Kageyama’s appearance was chilling in its
strangeness. “What do you want?”
“Nothing,” Kageyama replied shortly, looking past Tsukishima into the cloudy
grey sky. “Just some air. But you’re out here polluting it.”
Instead of a witty response or some pretentious proverb, Tsukishima was quiet,
swinging his legs as if he were a child instead of a (nearly) full grown man
three stories above the ground. He flicked some ash off the end of his
cigarette and took a long drag, slowly releasing the smoke. Kageyama noticed
that he exhaled with the wind, letting it carry the smoke (and its smell) away.
Finally, he spoke. “You really don’t get it, do you?” his back still to the
window, and by extension, Kageyama.
“Get what?” he replied tightly, moving so he could sit cross legged on
Tsukishima’s right. The roof was warm from the midmorning sun, and he leaned
backwards on his hands as he tilted his head up toward the sky.
“The reason you have no friends,” Tsukishima said, gazing out in front of them.
Enraged, Kageyama opened his mouth to reply but nothing came to mind, leaving
him to flap his jaw like a fish.
The blonde man turned his head, at the same time stubbing out his cigarette on
the roof. Amber eyes bored into Kageyama, and suddenly he felt naked and
vulnerable under the gaze of someone he had always put defenses up around.
“It’s because you’re selfish,” he continued casually, reaching into his duffel
bag for his pack of Gauloises, “You want one?”
Kageyama’s face contorted into an expression that made Tsukishima’s lips quirk,
but there was no humor in his eyes. He looked sad, which confused Kageyama even
further, which caused him to furrow his brow. “What?” he asked tightly, staring
as Tsukishima lit a new cigarette.
“I asked you if you wanted a cigarette,” Tsukishima said slowly, as if Kageyama
was hard of hearing.
“No, not that,” Kageyama replied, gritting his teeth as he tried to keep his
voice at a reasonable level. “What do you mean, I’m selfish?”
Tsukishima considered that for a second, taking a drag. He slowly let the smoke
go, deliberately letting some drift into Kageyama’s face. “Akane’s left ankle
is stiffer than her right,” he said finally, his voice taking on an edge of its
own. “It’s easy to see, just by the way she walks. Probably the result of a
recent injury, since it seems to make her nervous and really throw her off
balance. But you didn’t notice, did you?”
Kageyama froze. He hadn’t, and the admission was written all over his face.
Tsukishima snorted and looked straight ahead again. “You could’ve really hurt
her, all because you weren’t paying attention to anyone but yourself. You never
do.”
He got up now, furious with Tsukishima who was acting so high and mighty.
“Where do you get off being such a smug bastard all the time?”
Tsukishima stood too, and dropped the remainder of his cig carelessly. “At
least I know I’m horrible,” he replied, and now he really was smiling. “You
think you’re a good person, but sorry to break it to you, you’re not.”
Kageyama took two steps forward and grabbed Tsukishima by the collar. His eyes
were blazing, but the other dancer didn’t even blink. He turned and used all
his strength to shove Tsukishima into the wall to the left of the window. He
pinned him flat against the surface with a hand on his throat, and Tsukishima
was shaking- not with fear, but with silent laughter.
“Go ahead,” he said, staring right into Kageyama’s face. “Hit me. Prove me
right.”
Kageyama faltered, his grip loosening, but instead of trying to get away,
Tsukishima raised one delicate hand and wrapped his fingers around his wrist.
“So maybe you are human after all,” he said, marveling at his new discovery. “I
always wanted to meet you, back home. Hearing so much about you, how could I
not?”
“Shut up,” Kageyama growled, wishing he could cover his ears like a little kid.
“They always said,” Tsukishima continued, “how you had the perfect technique,
and the right body, and the artistry to perform anything. They called you a
genius and a prodigy, and the girl’s magazines described you as handsome. But
the one thing I’d never heard? That you were nice.”
“Shut up!” Kageyama insisted, wanting to close his eyes and pretend this wasn’t
happening, but he just couldn’t look away.
There was a long moment of silence, and Tsukishima’s eyes softened. The harsh
lines and angles of his face smoothed into something much more pleasant and
appealing. He spoke very quietly now, causing Kageyama to lean in so he could
hear better.
“Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”’
Kageyama froze as Tsukishima let go of him, his arm falling to the side. He
watched as Tsukishima looked to the side, away from him, and heard the blood
rushing through his head as his heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t know why
he did what he did next and never managed to figure it out that night or any
time after for that matter, but he knew that in an instant, he had changed
everything.
“Oi.” At the sound of his voice Tsukishima started to turn towards him. That
was when Kageyama grabbed his chin roughly and pulled him down, crashing their
lips together in an unceremonious kiss.
***** Familiar *****
Chapter Summary
     They have a lot to learn both inside and outside of the studio, so
     Tsukishima and Kageyama start by getting intimately acquainted.
Chapter Notes
     As promised, the explicit content of this fic begins in the second
     half of this chapter.
     If you would prefer not to read it, the last sentence before the NSFW
     portion begins is: "No need to shout, King,” he said, moving so he
     was sitting up on the bed with his back against the headboard. He
     gestured with a careless flourish reminiscent of some strange
     abstract sculpture, the corners of his mouth upturned in an odd
     little smile. “Only come closer, and your wish is my command.”
     If you skip the sex, all you need to know is that Tsukishima begins
     to act strangely, particularly distant, when they get to the
     penetration.
It wasn't a beautiful romantic gesture, but the kiss Kageyama pulled the blonde
into wasn't one of aggression. It was a desperate move and a clumsy, misguided
one to boot, but his shock at his own actions paled in comparison to the
surprise he felt when the man nearly smothered by his form reacted by
prolonging their contact.
Kageyama had angled his head sharply to compensate for the height difference
and Tsukishima's relative position, but the tendons in the side of his neck
pulled uncomfortably almost immediately. Their lips touched, neither gently nor
roughly, but with a solid surety that held tense and steady for several seconds
before Tsukishima began to move, slowly manipulating Kageyama’s body as easily
as if he were shaping clay.
He leaned back against the wall, widening his stance and slouching a bit so
that he and Kageyama were on an even level. He opened his arm and Kageyama
moved toward him as if in a trance, allowing the other dancer to rest his hand
on the small of his back. Tsukishima's other hand cradled Kageyama's jaw, the
chill of his hands (or perhaps the unfamiliarity of their current situation)
caused an involuntary shiver, but instead of a sneer or a smirk, Kageyama
looked up to find intense amber eyes seeking out his own.
“I'm going to kiss you again,” he said, his thumb rubbing comfortingly along a
chiseled cheekbone. Tsukishima paused then, waiting for an objection, and when
met with none put a slight bit of pressure into the hand just below Kageyama's
waist, causing him to come closer. Eyes never breaking contact, the other
Japanese boy closed the small distance between them and gently pressed a kiss
to his rival's lips.
Kageyama was dumbfounded, sure that if it weren't for the grounding hold
Tsukishima had on him, he would've folded to the floor in a faint. As it was,
he stood mostly motionless as Tsukishima expertly stacked their lips, giving
him a series of experimental pecks. He opened his eyes to the sight of
unblemished skin and impossibly long lashes laid against Tsukishima's lower lid
behind his black rimmed glasses. He shut them again quickly, inhaling shakily
through his nose.
He became more receptive then, leaning in close enough to feel the heat
radiating off the other dancer. His hands, previously hanging limp at his
sides, moved seemingly of their own accord; one bracing himself against the
wall just above the blonde’s defined collarbones, the other mirroring the
intimate touch he was receiving by gently cupping the side of Tsukishima's
face. His skin was soft and cool, he tasted like cigarettes and strawberries,
and Kageyama was so busy wondering about the latter he didn't realize that he
had started unconsciously returning the kiss.
His lips began to move too, hesitantly and a bit clumsily, returning the soft
but insistent pressure. They kissed like this, without tongue, until Kageyama
felt the need to come up for air. He pulled back a few inches, leaning his
forehead against Tsukishima's as he took several shaky breaths.
“You good, King?” Tsukishima asked, and Kageyama opened his eyes to see the
other young man watching him with a hint of interest and what might have been
concern if it were anyone else. As it was though, he didn't even entertain the
thought that Tsukishima would worry about him.
“Peachy,” Kageyama growled, the slender fingers that had been mapping out the
pale skin of Tsukishima's dangerously angelic features pulling away gingerly.
Tsukishima did the same, releasing his delicate hold on Kageyama's jaw, but
neither boy moved apart. Silence stretched out between them and Kageyama
cleared his throat, unsure of what to say. For once he was glad for
Tsukishima's businesslike efficiency, because he was the one to duck out of the
embrace first.
“Break’s over,” he said simply, softly, almost gently, but he directed his
words out to the city rather than the person he'd been kissing so tenderly
moments ago. Tsukishima walked to where he'd been sitting and stooped to pick
up his bag, turning on his heel to slip back through the window. He paused
though, hand smudging the glass in an uncharacteristically mindless way for
someone usually so collected, and turned his head to address Kageyama. “After
today's done with, I'm going to the cafe on the boulevard. If you want to talk,
come find me then.” With that, he disappeared back into the building, leaving a
stupefied Kageyama standing and staring at his retreating form.
The next class focused on technique in turns and was taught by a temporary
staff member who traveled and worked with different companies around the world.
Kageyama had always been more of a “jumper", so he always had to pay special
attention when the visiting choreographer, Kiyoko, was teaching them. She had
been the best at what she did anywhere she went during her professional career,
always executing delightful sequences of fouettes and complementing any partner
she was given. He'd seen a DVD of Kiyoko and a man he didn’t know (she had
danced for a smaller company at one point) and she had such poise and
effortless grace that the lights gave her the illusion of flight.
Kageyama, like most dancers, was a “righty” that had a lower level of
confidence when combinations or choreography was reversed that then lended
itself to mistakes. He hated having any weaknesses in his technique, even
though it was a flaw that had never penalized him in auditions or anywhere
else. The first person to catch it had been Kiyoko Shimizu, and ever since,
he'd been determined to fix (or at least learn to hide) the problem by the time
she left the company to work with another.
She talked them through a center exercise, a grande allegro that would only
allow two or three of the gathered male dancers to go at a time. He knew she’d
have them reverse it immediately, with no time to recalibrate, so he focused on
marking with his hands and committing it to memory. The dancers divided
themselves up, and without moving a muscle, he somehow found himself in the
first pair with a man he recognized but couldn’t identify by name.
He was beautiful, with dark hair that curled around his temples and eyes that
shifted between blue and green. Kageyama would have been a liar if he said he
hadn’t stolen a few looks at him across the studio before, but from the utterly
unamused side glance the boy gave him, he felt as if he was lucky to even be in
the same room as the older dancer.
“Window,” the boy said, his voice low. Kageyama was about to look over but he
caught the small gesture in the mirror first; they were too close to each other
and he needed to take a step forward so they wouldn’t run each other over. His
cheeks got hot as he did so, taking his preparation just as the music started.
After the first two pique he had his center of gravity well established, so by
the time he got to the a la secondes, he was confident in his ability to
execute the twelve right turns. He came out of it with a small flourish, taking
a moment to breathe before the reverse of the combination began.
This was the hard part, his brain still a bit scrambled from a failure to whip
his head around fast enough in his final spot, but he refused to cheat by
watching the other dancer (Akaashi, he finally remembered, the one rumored to
be up for promotion soon) in the mirror. He fumbled more than he’d like to
admit, and his turns were incredibly lackluster, especially since his working
leg never quite reached the ninety degree angle it should have.
When the music finished he could have sworn he heard a snicker, or maybe three,
but his eyes were locked on the ballet mistress. She wasn’t one to show much
emotion (though she came alive in performances) and he couldn’t read her
expression. He watched her direct a nod to his partner, who inclined his head
in return and walked to the side of the studio to make room for the next group.
Her eyes slowly dragged over to him, and he was startled by how unaffected she
looked. They locked eyes for a moment before she turned away, calling for the
next two dancers who all but shoved Kageyama out of their way.
He retreated like a kicked dog, his head down and his eyes fixed firmly on the
ground. He didn’t look up until he reached the back corner of the studio, but
once he did, his focus locked on the two dancers moving into the “lefty”
portion of the combination. They did poorly, but from this vantage point he
could use them as examples of where he had gone wrong. His eyes quickly darted
over them, taking mental notes such as fully point the toe on the raised leg to
get the best extension and crunch in the lower stomach tighter during the plie
to maintain good posture.
Usually Kageyama would have thought watching sloppy dancers was pointless and
would have instead focused on stretching as a more worthwhile use of his time,
but his own humiliation moments ago had forced him to reevaluate. He wasn’t the
best in the room, and while it angered him to feel left behind by his class, he
was driven to rectify it by the next time he saw Kiyoko. He watched every group
intently, picking out the best and worst techniques, reminding himself that he
could mould his body any way he wanted if he had the willpower to. He was
enraptured, fully absorbed in his observations until the spell broke when
natural “lefty” and certified bastard Tsukishima Kei met his eyes in the
mirror.
They had been between performances for the last week, taking classes and cross
training to prepare for the next round of rehearsals. The preliminary cast list
for the new modern piece being choreographed by a senior staff member (Daichi,
a rather stocky man who was often in the wellness center working alongside
Suga) was being posted the next day. Because of this, the directors had
scheduled an early dismissal for the corps de ballet. When practice ended,
Kageyama bowed to Kiyoko along with the others. He lingered in the studio while
the others grabbed their things and chatted amongst themselves, and even when
the lobby was mostly clear, he dragged his feet as he went about getting ready
to leave.
Kageyama was usually methodical and efficient, but that day he was
procrastinating on leaving the building. He grabbed his bag and walked to the
men’s bathroom which was thankfully empty; he didn’t feel like making
conversation, to an atypical degree. He went straight to the sink and turned
the cold tap, letting the water run over his hands before splashing his face.
The water still on, he lifted his head and met his eyes in the mirror.
He looked like a drowned rat, he thought, face wet and his hair matted with
snarls and sweat. In the back of his mind he knew it didn’t matter because he
hadn’t even decided whether to meet with Tsukishima yet, and even if he did,
why would a fellow dancer judge him? Still, Kageyama made a split second
decision to duck his head under the faucet, closing his eyes under the
onslaught of cool water.
After a moment he slowly stepped back, reaching to turn the tap off. He groped
blindly for the paper towel dispenser and managed to get a few sheets, which he
used to blot his hair. When he was no longer dripping he straightened up,
combing through his hair with his hands and turning this way and that in the
mirror to make sure that he didn’t leave any stray pieces sticking up.
He stripped off his damp dance clothes, not even bothering to go into a stall,
and slipped into street clothes. All he had with him were simple blue jeans
with a rip in one knee and a concert tee for a band he’d never even heard of,
but it was comfortable getup and he refused to pass the cafe to get clothes
from his apartment just to walk right back. He did make sure though to apply
deodorant liberally before he zipped up his bag, deciding that if he was
cleaning up his appearance he might as well try not to stink.
He left, the building rather quiet except for music coming from the smaller
room at the end of the hallway. A soloist still rehearsing, he thought, or
Daichi walking through choreography. It was a familiar tune, and he walked to
the beat unconsciously the entire way to the coffeeshop.
It was a small cafe, one he’d stopped by a few times for snacks but not
somewhere he visited regularly. A little bell jingled as he entered, the room
bustling with a moderate amount of business. The door shut behind him with a
surprisingly loud ‘clack!’ but he didn’t notice, all his focus on the blonde
he’d come to see.  
Despite the heat outside Tsukishima had a mug in front of him, long fingers
wrapped around it. He didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular and
when Kageyama got closer, he lifted his head. A slight twitch at the corner of
his mouth brought attention to his lips, and Kageyama hated the way he couldn’t
look away as the other man took a sip of his steaming drink.
“Hey King,” he said, his voice teasing but lacking the usual edge it usually
had. Kageyama was a bit taken aback at his tone, and was dumbstruck until
Tsukishima continued to fill the silence created by his hesitation. “Glad you
made it, I was beginning to think your small brain had gotten knocked around in
your big skull one time too many back during those turns.”
Ah, there was the Tsukishima he knew, mean and beautiful. He looked immaculate
in a black jacket with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and Kageyama
couldn’t think of anything to say besides, “Shut up.”
The other boy snorted, putting down his now empty mug gently. He rested his
elbows on the table and clasped his hands, resting his chin on them. “Okay, so
you’re not as scrambled as I thought, that’s good. If you want to talk, talk.
I’ve been sitting here for an hour.”
Kageyama gritted his teeth, embarrassed now. A quick look at the clock told him
that it had been closer to an hour and a half, and he felt like his face was
hot enough to boil water. His palms started to sweat in his lap and he rubbed
them over his jeans in a futile attempt to wipe them clean.
“What was that?” he blurted out, then clamped his mouth shut. To his credit,
Tsukishima only raised an eyebrow, seemingly ignoring the turned heads as a
result of the outburst.
“You kissed me,” he replied, shrugging nonchalantly.
“Well… um… yeah,” Kageyama grumbled, shrinking down in his seat. “But… well…
you kissed me too.”
Tsukishima looked at him down the bridge of his nose, seemingly unimpressed.
“So?”
“So… so does that mean you like- like me?” Kageyama forced out, the words so
jumbled together that if Tsukishima had not been expecting the question, he
never would have been able to decipher it. He held his breath, alarmed that he
had asked such a ridiculous question, but all the air came wooshing out of his
lungs when Tsukishima started to laugh.
“No,” he said, chuckling. “Not necessarily, but it also doesn’t mean I don’t.”
Kageyama blinked and didn’t reply, and Tsukishima’s merriment sobered so he
could clarify. “I don’t want to date you. I don’t have the time and I don’t
care enough. But I wouldn’t be opposed to… other things.”
“You mean sex,” Kageyama deduced, stating his conclusion bluntly. Tsukishima
threw his hands up in exaggerated exasperation, glad he didn’t have to specify
in a public place. It was bad enough as it was, considering that he liked to
keep his affairs private.
“Ding ding ding!” Tsukishima leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs
out in front of him. Before he could continue, Kageyama stood up and looked
down at him gravely.
“Alright,” the dark haired boy said, and Tsukishima’s eyes widened. He looked
at the hand extended to him, then to the person offering it, and laughed.
“Right now? You really are something, King,” he said, shaking his head as he
marveled at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.
When Tsukishima took his hand, Kageyama’s fingertips and palm tingled, shocks
like electricity zinging up his forearm. It didn’t feel real, especially once
they were out the door and Tsukishima still hadn’t let go. His hand was cool,
despite the drink he’d been holding, and Kageyama had the urge to take them
both in his and warm them up.
They made it all the way down the street to an intersection before Kageyama
knew it, and when they stopped for cars, he finally asked where they were
going. Tsukishima didn’t even look at him, just squeezed his hand and replied,
“Don’t worry about it.”
The walk wasn’t a long one (probably about the same as his own from apartment
to studio, just in the opposite direction) and the day was nice, but the long
legged couple blew swiftly through the meager distance. Tension crackled
between the two of them and neither spoke the entire way, Kageyama stealing
glances at Tsukishima’s neutral expression as he stared straight ahead. He
wanted to break the silence, but Tsukishima had said not to worry so matter of
factly that he hesitated. This, he knew, could be the biggest mistake he’d ever
make. And yet the cool indifference exuded by the blonde was enough to reassure
him that Tsukishima would take care of everything. Or at least, that’s what he
hoped.
They turned a corner and stopped in front of a rather unremarkable brick
building. Tsukishima reached into his bag for his keys, letting go of Kageyama
who instantly felt the absence of skin to skin contact. It seemed to take
forever as he worked on the old lock since it was in need of some good
jostling, but finally, the door swung open. He had a much easier time working
the key back out, and finally, he turned his head to acknowledge the man behind
him.
“I’m looking after the whole place for the people I rent my room from. Try not
to trash it.” Tsukishima stepped inside, slipping off his shoes in the foyer
and making room for Kageyama to do the same, resuming the terse silence that
had befallen them before. When Kageyama had straightened up, now standing
barefoot on the cold hardwood, he found himself clutching his satchel and
questioning his life choices up until that moment.
It was a nice space, clearly a suite shared by a few young adults. It was a bit
cluttered in the main area, with a dish here and a forgotten jacket there, but
Kageyama was surprised at how well maintained the place appeared to be-
especially without landlords complaining, or around to complain to at the very
least. He understood why though, when Tsukishima took his wrist and led him
into one of the white walled bedrooms, revealing such a clean and minimalist
space that he could swear was sterile enough that he’d be able to eat from any
surface inside of it. Tsukishima dropped his bag near the door, and it took an
awkwardly long time for Kageyama to process the action and follow suit.
“You in there, King?” Tsukishima looked unamused by this strange behavior and
moved to sit on the bed, leaning back on his palms slightly. “It’s like there’s
nothing in there. Come on, you’re supposed to be an adaptive prodigy, work with
me.”
Kageyama glowered, bristling at both the nickname and the dismissive way he had
been addressed. “Don’t call me that,” was all that came to mind, and Tsukishima
snorted.
“If you don’t want to do this, you can go,” he said, looking up at the dark
haired man with a carefully guarded gaze. “But it was your idea.”
“I… I know that,” Kageyama muttered, clenching his fists at his sides and
rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet slightly. “I’ve just never…
done it before.”
Tsukishima’s eyebrows raised slightly, but he suddenly seemed more curious than
condescending as he leaned in. “You’ve never had casual sex?” Kageyama
shrugged, and his eyes narrowed a bit. “You’ve never fucked around with another
guy?” Kageyama’s face reddened, but other than that, he didn’t reply, and
Tsukishima’s next deduction made his gold eyes blow wide with surprise. “You
mean, by ‘never’... actually never?” A disbelieving laugh bubbled over his
lips, and Kageyama glared at him with as much venom as he could muster.
He sobered up a bit, probably out of pity, and exhaled slowly. “Look King, if
you’re a virgin, there are fuckloads of better people out there,” Tsukishima
said flatly and without any trace of menace in his posturing. Actually,
Kageyama thought that the seated blond seemed to collapse into himself a bit as
if he were shrinking away and closing up shop, and it surprised him. It almost
seemed like he was disappointed, and that possibility only made his next
outburst stronger in conviction.
“No. I want you,” Kageyama said, his voice certain (if not a bit louder than
necessary), and he watched as Tsukishima seemed to reemerge, a strange glint
trickling over his razor sharp gaze.
“No need to shout, King,” he said, moving so he was sitting up on the bed with
his back against the headboard. He gestured with a careless flourish
reminiscent of some strange abstract sculpture, the corners of his mouth
upturned in an odd little smile. “Only come closer, and your wish is my
command.”
Kageyama hesitated but after a few seconds of enduring Tsukishima’s heated
gaze, he found himself crawling over the nicely made sheets to lay propped up
beside the other man. Tsukishima didn’t waste any time, smoothly moving to
straddle his hips as soon as he’d settled down. Denim clad legs squeezed around
him tightly, and wiry arms slid around his neck to rest wrists on his
shoulders, and Kageyama sighed into the embrace, his eyes fluttering shut.
He felt it when Tsukishima brought their bodies even closer together, touching
waists, chests, and finally lips. The first few kisses were similar to the ones
on the roof earlier that day, fairly gentle and structured, but Kageyama was
never one to settle and he wanted to pick up from where they left off and
accelerate all the way home.
He was the first one to initiate tongue, cautiously parting his lips enough to
wet the surface of Tsukishima’s soft bottom lip. Tsukishima caught on and
adapted flawlessly (Kageyama wondered when he’d had time to become so
experienced considering their strict training regimen), tilting his head
further to the right and urging Kageyama wordlessly to do the same.
Kageyama let himself be manipulated like clay under those beautiful hands,
sinking into the warmth of Tsukishima’s body. He felt as if he was melting,
feeling the surface of Tsukishima’s tongue sweep over his own in a strange but
pleasant way. A gasp was torn from him as Tsukishima pulled back, catching his
bottom lip between his teeth. He was breathing hard, as if he’d been running,
and his heart felt liable to beat right out of his chest. Tsukishima leaned his
forehead against Kageyama and caught his breath, letting him process all of the
sensory input.
“Still good?” Tsukishima asked, his voice a touch breathy but otherwise even.
His hands slid to tangle in the slightly longer hair at the back of Kageyama’s
neck (he’d been meaning to get a haircut) and tugged, but not hard enough to
hurt. He ducked his head, nosing under Kageyama’s chin and pressing the softest
of kisses along the jawline.
“Y-yeah,” Kageyama replied, mortified when it came out as a squeak instead of a
proper response. He tipped his head back, shivering as he felt Tsukishima bite
down on a particularly sensitive spot. “No-no marks?” he tried to demand, but
with his mind preoccupied by the sensations he was experiencing, it came out as
a week question.
To Tsukishima’s credit he only chuckled lowly, pulling back to observe
Kageyama’s expression: pupils blown wide and cheeks flushed. “Trust me,” he
said arrogantly, and leaned up to slowly drag his tongue along his cheekbone,
tracing a path to his earlobe which he then nibbled enough to coax a shiver
from Kageyama. “You like what I’m doing.”
Kageyama wanted to retort, wanted to come back with something indignant, but at
that moment Tsukishima lifted himself off his lap, shifted a bit, and then
ground down deliberately on Kageyama’s crotch. Any words that had come to mind
flew away, and his mouth opened silently as he processed just how good it felt.
“See?” Tsukishima said. “You’re already hard.” He was smirking, leaning over
Kageyama as he again pushed his ass over the bulge in his pants. Kageyama’s
hands fell to Tsukishima’s narrow waist, encouraging him to keep moving.
Tsukishima obliged, pulling at the soft locks of hair hard enough to make a
groan escape Kageyama despite his best attempts.
Kageyama opened his eyes (he didn’t know when he had closed them) to see
Tsukishima as disheveled as he’d ever seen him. His lips were wet with saliva,
pink and inviting, and he had sweat beading at his temple. As Kageyama watched
a droplet ran down the side of his face, dripping to the bedsheets, and he
shuddered as the visual aroused him even further. The fact that he had this
kind of effect on the unflappable blonde, that he was the one who was making
his composure crack was a turnon, and the surge of power that came with control
made his head spin and his cock ache.
“Off,” he demanded, tugging at the hem of Tsukishima’s t-shirt. Tsukishima gave
him an odd look, something between amusement and exacerbation, but he sat back
nonetheless and shucked off the obstructing fabric. Kageyama took a second to
take in the view, and his hands couldn’t help wandering over the gorgeous
abdominal muscles revealed. Tsukishima was so thin that with almost no
pressure, he could feel his ribcage under his fingertips. Kageyama stared a
little too long, tracing nonsensical patterns over the fair skin, until
Tsukishima coughed gently to get his attention.
“Your turn, King,” he said, and helped Kageyama pull his own shirt up and over
his head. Kageyama knew he was in good shape, but the hungry stare focused on
his body was quite an ego boost nonetheless. Tsukishima’s hands explored his
upper body, running over his chest and shoulders, squeezing his biceps, and
flicking a nipple so quickly that Kageyama would have thought he imagined it if
it wasn’t for the way he jolted from surprise.
Tsukishima slid down his body slowly until he was eye level with Kageyama’s
crotch and rested his hand lightly over the bulge in his pants. He flicked open
the button and pulled down the zipper without looking away from Kageyama. “Hips
up,” he directed, and although Kageyama hated when Tsukishima was a bossy know-
it-all, he did have to admit that he was glad to let him take control in this
particular situation.
Tsukishima slid the jeans down Kageyama’s legs, letting them fall to the floor
somewhere behind him. Kageyama shivered from his vantage point on the bed,
looking down at Tsukishima who was way too damn close to his crotch to not be
doing anything.
Tsukishima sat up suddenly and climbed off, crawling over to his bedside. He
rummaged around in the nightstand’s drawer, and Kageyama’s hand drifted to his
erection, palming himself over the fabric.
A foil square was tossed onto his lap, and Kageyama stared at it for a minute
before realizing what it was. He looked at Tsukishima expectantly and he
sighed, running a hand through his hair which was plastered down with sweat.
“I’ll blow you, but only if you wear a condom,” Tsukishima said, in a voice
that left no room for argument. He turned away and slipped off his own pants,
throwing them in the direction of Kageyama’s. Kageyama took advantage of his
turned back to open the wrapping (strawberry flavored, huh?) and slide out of
his boxers. He grasped himself firmly and had to bite down on the inside of his
cheek to keep from groaning at the contact. He gave his cock a few strokes to
make sure he was fully hard, and then rolled the condom down with only a little
fumbling.
Tsukishima returned to his prior spot on the bed, knees on either side of
Kageyama and head by his lower regions. He took Kageyama’s erection in his
thinner, cooler hand and pumped him confidently. “You really do want this,” he
said, and his expression was neutral, even soft. “I think you’ll like it.” He
smiled then, and shifting his hand to grasp the base of his dick, he leaned
forward and took the head of Kageyama’s cock in his mouth.
Kageyama tipped his head back, feeling the warm heat engulfing him. He looked
down and felt his cock pulse as he watched Tsukishima take more and more into
his mouth. And then when he hollowed his cheeks and sucked as he pulled back to
lick at the tip? He whimpered, hands going to Tsukishima’s head. It took him a
few tries to loosen up his throat and get used enough to the action, but
Kageyama soon learned that Tsukishima did not, in fact, have a gag reflex. The
very image of fucking into that pretty mouth, of seeing tear drops instead of
sweat, had him shaking, so he warned “Tsuki-” in a shaking voice and tugged on
a handful of blond hair. Maybe next time, he thought, though he failed to
remember that he was by no means guaranteed a next time.
Tsukishima immediately pulled back, and Kageyama might have thought he looked
disappointed if it weren’t for the teasing that followed. “About to cum
already, King? And we were just getting started too…”
“Shut up,” Kageyama managed between pants. “I came here for sex, not to be made
fun of.”
Tsukishima snorted. “We’re practically naked, your dick was just in my mouth,
and you can’t say the word ‘fuck’?”
“Of course I can,” Kageyama replied indignantly. “So let’s get on with it.”
Tsukishima rolled his eyes but reached for the bottle of lube he’d dug out
earlier. “Top or bottom?” When he received a blank stare, he was tempted to
bang his head against the wall, but instead went for the more literal
explanation for the sake of getting laid: “Would you like me to stick my dick
in your ass, or would you like to stick your dick in my ass? Once in a lifetime
offer, King.”
“What do you usually like?” Kageyama asked instead of choosing. Tsukishima
shrugged, pulled off his boxer briefs, and popped open the lid, drizzling the
liquid inside over his fingers.
“Probably easier if I bottom, since you’ve never done this before,” he
reasoned, laying back and pulling his knees to his chest for better access. He
slowly rubbed lube around his entrance with one finger, and softly stroked his
cock with the other hand to help him relax.
Kageyama watched, fascinated as Tsukishima eased a finger past the tight ring
of muscle. Unconsciously, he clenched his fists, not wanting to climax before
the main event. Tsukishima slowly worked himself open, his eyes fluttering shut
as he moaned, low and deep. He made a small noise as he pushed in a second
finger, but Kageyama could see how he gradually relaxed as pain turned to
pleasure. He scissored his fingers inside, giving Kageyama a glimpse of the
tight passage he’d soon be inside, and Kageyama found himself scrambling for
the other condom Tsukishima had retrieved. He put it on as Tsukishima pushed in
a third finger and nearly cried out, and Kageyama couldn’t help but lean over
to press a kiss to his forehead.
Tsukishima’s eyes opened at the touch, and Kageyama was surprised at how
vulnerable he looked. Physically, he was naked and exposed, yes, but also as if
the barrier separating his real feelings from his expressions was down. He
couldn’t help but kiss Tsukishima gently, even as he continued fingering
himself.
“I’m ready,” he said hoarsely, pulling away. Tsukishima turned over onto his
hands and knees after glancing over to check that Kageyama was wearing a
condom. “Lube up and… go slow.”
Kageyama reached for the lube with shaking hands, collecting some in his palm
and smoothing it over his cock. He grasped Tsukishima’s hip with one hand,
feeling the sharp bones jutting out, and used the other one to guide himself
inside. The first inch or two was a tight fit, and Tsukishima really did cry
out. Kageyama tried to pull back, concerned, but his wrist was grabbed tightly.
“Wait.”
Kageyama stopped, muscles coiled, wanting nothing more than to thrust into the
tight heat he knew awaited him. But as Tsukishima fidgeted under him, trying to
adjust, he steeled his will as the seconds ticked by. Finally the fingers
digging into him fell away, and Tsukishima leaned forward so his chest was on
the mattress with his ass still up and toward Kageyama. He took a deep breath
and exhaled slowly. “Go ahead.”
Still a little uncertain, Kageyama pushed in as smoothly as he could. He saw
Tsukishima’s hands clutch the bedsheets, and knew that he was hurting him.
Still, he couldn’t help but groan in pleasure as he bottomed out. He stayed
there a moment, just enjoying the sensation, before Tsukishima turned his head
to look back at him.
“You can move now, you know,” he said, but there was no bite to the words.
Kageyama nodded, and Tsukishima dropped his head back down as Kageyama pulled
out until he was barely inside before thrusting back in. Tsukishima’s back
arched and he whined, but he wasn’t as tense and Kageyama could see as they
continued how he began grinding back to meet him halfway.
Kageyama leaned over, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to every inch of
Tsukishima’s back he could reach, mumbling reassurances that were likely
nonsensical but were meant to be soothing. He bit down on the back of
Tsukishima’s neck and felt him shudder, felt the way he clamped down on his
dick, and knew they were both close.
“Tsukishima-” Kageyama started, only to be interrupted.
“Kei. While we’re like this… Kei.”
“Kei,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m gonna…” He reached around and wrapped his
fingers around Tsukishima’s leaking cock, still pounding into him erratically.
“It’s okay,” replied Tsukishima, voice muffled due to being face down. “Come
for me, Kageyama.”
Kageyama stilled, worrying the skin at the name of Tsukishima’s neck between
his teeth as he came. He slowly pulled out, holding the condom on and groaning
quietly. He tied it and threw it in the waste bin, before turning to look at
Tsukishima.
Tsukishima was on his back, face turned up at the ceiling as he thrusted into
his fist. Kageyama crawled over and gave him a hot open mouthed kiss, pinching
his nipples in turn. That was all it took to send him over the edge, and he
gasped for air as he was completely overwhelmed.
He didn’t move for several seconds, and Kageyama began to grow concerned. “Oi,
Tsukishima.” When that received no response, he gave him a small shake. “Kei.”
Tsukishima opened his eyes, looking around the room blearily, then at Kageyama.
“Stay,” he said in a soft voice, completely uncharacteristic considering his
usual demeanor. Kageyama had expected to be kicked out right away, so this
request was highly unexpected.
He hesitated for a minute before ruffling Tsukishima’s hair and mumbling
something about cleaning up.
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