Archive of Our Own

“Hey, Suna?” Washio calls from the other side of the locker room. Weariness and confusion dull the edge of his voice, though more so the latter. Suna, who has an expert understanding of all the nuances of Washio’s levels of exasperation, easily determines that this time, it’s nothing he’s done.  

“Yeah?” Suna is only halfway dressed so he doesn’t bother turning to face him. Unlike the rest of the team, Washio showers and changes inhumanly quickly. As Suna tugs a fresh shirt over his head and Washio still hasn’t continued, he gives in, turning on his heels to find him holding his phone stupidly close to his face and squinting at the screen. Such blatant confusion typically means Suna needs to decipher whatever incomprehensible jumble of memes Komori sent to the group chat. Given Komori is belting the lyrics from Barbie Girl — incorrectly, he might add — from the direction of the shower stalls, it’s safe to assume he doesn’t need to preemptively pull up Urban Dictionary or KnowYourMeme.com.

Washio tears himself away from the screen, flipping it around to show Suna. “Since when are Bokuto and Osamu dating?”

***

Like most of his peers, Hinata has developed many pre and post game rituals over the years. He’s happy to report that he's come a long way from his days holed up in the bathroom before a game. These days, Hinata always snipes an onigiri from the Onigiri Miya stand when the option is available—but lately, they’ve been selling out before he can get his hands on one. Today’s Red Falcons vs. EJP game is the perfect time for him to strike. 

It’s a rare thing to find the stand not completely overrun by customers so when he turns the corner and finds it devoid of customers, his heart soars and he can’t believe his luck. With newfound pep in his step, he merrily jaunts toward it. He raises a hand in greeting and is about to shout Osamu’s name when a woman rushes past him, hip checking Hinata and throwing him totally off his rhythm. She doesn’t bother apologizing and continues toward the stand at a frenzied pace only coming to a stop when she nearly collides with it. 

“Is it true?” The woman shoves a cell phone in Osamu’s face. He flinches, reeling backward as the woman continues. “Is Suna-san really dating you?” 

Osamu squints and whatever is on the screen must catch his attention because he draws forward again like a yo-yo.

“What is this?” Osamu’s brows scrunch together with more vigor than an inchworm booking it toward a fresh, crisp apple. “That isn’t me,” he says after studying the phone for a moment. 

The woman scoffs. “That’s definitely you. And that’s definitely Suna Rintarou, middle blocker for EJP. He’s on the court right now.” 

“I said that ain’t me.” 

“Don’t play dumb; I have eyes. Plus, the article says it’s you, Miya Osamu, owner of Onigiri Miya and in a relationship with EJP middle blocker, Suna Rintarou.”

“Ma’am, if you’re here to buy an onigiri, I’ll gladly serve you. Otherwise this conversation is over.”

The woman grumbles but pays for an onigiri before walking back the way she came. Hinata changes course, saying a silent, mournful goodbye to his onigiri, as he follows her into the hallway. 

“Excuse me, ma’am. Can I see the article?” 

She lets out a huff but shows him the screen anyway. “I don’t know why he’s denying it,” she says. “It’s obviously him and he’s obviously holding hands with Suna Rintarou.”

Oh shit.

***

Sakusa is used to getting roped into shenanigans. It might as well be written into his MSBY contract at this point. So when Hinata sends a frenzied message to the group chat demanding they meet at his apartment ASAP on their Saturday off, he does what he always does: he ignores it. When Hinata calls a minute later, he hits the silence button without a second thought. 

But Hinata is nothing if not persistent. A mere twelve minutes pass before there is frantic pounding on his door. Sakusa doesn’t need to open the door or look through the peephole to know who it is. He opens the door knowing the battle is already lost and isn’t surprised when Atsumu and Bokuto shuffle in behind Hinata.

They cram around Sakusa’s tiny table and wait. Hinata sits with his hands steepled under his chin and a pensive look on his face. “Thank you for being here today,” he says, breaking the silence at last.

“Yer making me real nervous,” Atsumu says. 

Sakusa rolls his eyes. The last time Hinata called an emergency meeting claiming terrible news it was because they switched energy drink brands in the vending machine at the gym. 

“It’s Osamu and Suna,” Hinata says, voice grave. “They need our help.” He recounts what he witnessed at the Red Falcons vs. EJP game. “We’ve got to help them!” 

Sakusa blinks. “Help them with what?” 

“Omi-san, don’t you see?” 

“No.” 

“How could ya be so obtuse?” Atsumu spits.  “Osamu and Suna have kept their relationship under wraps for a reason.” 

Bokuto gasps. “You mean they wanted it kept a secret?”

Hinata nods. “You guys should have seen Osamu’s face. Devastated! They definitely are not ready for people to know.” 

“That sucks,” Sakusa says. “But they aren't idiots. You're overreacting. Again."

“Omi-omi! That’s cruel!"

“What if,” Atsumu begins, “the stress of their relationship getting flaunted so flagrantly across the internet stresses them out so much that the stress starts to manifest in their day to day lives. Poking tiny holes in the fabric of their relationship until it gives out and tears in two? What then, Omi-omi? Huh, what then?”

Sakusa wonders if it would be easier to kick them out now or let them get the idiocy out of their systems first. He sighs. It’s going to be a long night.

***

“I can’t believe this is our last picnic of the season,” Yachi says as she carefully stacks the empty containers and places them in the basket. She shuts the lid with a sigh and sits back on her heels. 

“You say that like you don’t drag us out for picnics year round,” Tsukishima says.

“That doesn’t mean she can’t mourn the loss of the season anyway,” Yamaguchi says from behind them, laying on his side and scrolling idly on his phone.

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “It’s not even that cold today.” 

While many of the trees lining the park have yet to surrender their leaves, it won’t be long before they blanket the ground in red and gold. And once the trees are bare, the season’s first snowfall is never far off. It’s practically winter already.

Tsukishima huffs. “The fall leaves are nice. I guess.”

“Exactly!” Yachi says. “I’m going to miss them. They’re pretty.”

He pats her on the head — once then twice and to anyone else it probably appears more than a little awkward but she feels the genuine warmth behind the gesture all the same. “The snow will be pretty too, when it arrives,” he says.

She hums. 

“And we’ll go on a picnic again and freeze our asses off,” Tsukishima says as Yachi leans against him. 

She takes a deep breath, appreciating the moment for what it is.

Yamaguchi bolts upright, barrelling between them and  forcing Yachi and Tsukishima apart until he’s wedged in the middle.

“Tadashi, what the he—”

“Tshh !” Yamachuchi cuts him off.

“What are you—” Yachi tries but she too is shushed. 

“I know you guys were having a moment and I love that for you and you can totally yell at me all you want for barging in —”

“Spit it out,” Tsukki says.

“You guys need to see this.” He holds out his phone.

The photo, Yachi must admit, is rather convincing. Hinata has one hand around an onigiri and the other around Miya Osamu’s neck as he leans in to kiss him on the cheek. 

“I thought he was dating someone he met in Brazil?” Yachi says after reading the offered tweet. 

Yamaguchi shakes his head. “No. They broke up months ago.”

“Then what’s the problem?” asks Yachi. 

“Suna Rintarou is the problem.” Tsukishima rolls his eyes then adds with a huff, “Osamu has been dating that Suna guy since high school.”

Yamaguchi swallows. “Uh-huh. For like ten years or something insane like that.” 

“Wait.” It takes a moment for the puzzle pieces to slide into place. “Hinata is a homewrecker ?”

***

***

“Kageyama,” Ushijima says in lieu of a greeting as soon as he appears on Kageyama’s computer screen. 

“Ushijima,” Kageyama says with a nod. 

It’s not often that Ushijima requests to FaceTime with Kageyama. In fact, before today, he has never called Kageyama. 

“I understand congratulations are in order.” 

“Congratulations?” 

“You are in a new relationship.” 

Kageyama’s face screws up as he reviews the past few weeks. “You mean my advertising deal with Sanrio’s Gudetama ?”

“No,” Ushijima says. “Although, I should offer congratulations for that as well. Right now, I am speaking about your relationship with Miya Osamu.” 

“My relationship?” 

Ushijima nods. “Yes, I saw your tweet ten minutes ago. I liked it, but felt that alone was too informal for a proper congratulations.” 

“ Ohhhh, no. No. Miya-san and I are not in a relationship of any kind.” 

“I see,” Ushijima says with the severity of a man walking to the gallows. “My condolences then.”

Kageyama shakes his head. “No, that’s not necessary.” He hesitates. “Can you keep a secret?” 

Ushijima nods.

— Earlier — 

From across the room, Kageyama catches his phone screen light up out of the corner of his eye. Closer inspection reveals the caller’s name: DNI HINATA-BOKE . 

It’s late. The kind of late that signals the intended message can only be incredibly stupid or an actual emergency. Kageyama’s thumb hovers over the green button. He’s going to regret this. It’s never an emergency.

He takes the plunge, being careful to hold the phone away from his face as he answers the call.

“KAGEYAMA!” 

“It’s 11:30 PM.” 

“THERE IS NO TIME FOR A MATH LESSON!” 

“That wasn’t—” 

“I said NO TIME!” 

Kageyama takes a deep breath and wishes, not for the first time, that he could reach through the phone connection and throttle Hinata. Just a little bit. For old time’s sake. But he knows from experience, there are only so many ways out of this situation. He can hang up and turn off his phone for the next 24 hours guaranteeing that Hinata will eventually lose interest and give up. But that would leave him without an alarm in the morning. Alternatively, he can suffer through this conversation knowing there was really only ever one option.

“Fine. What?” 

“You are now dating Miya Osamu.” 

Kageyama blinks. “Huh?” 

“NO TIME FOR QUESTIONS!”

“Wha— ” 

“Just trust me.” 

“Dumbass. What the hell are you talking about? I’m not dating anyone.” 

Hinata screeches like a mutated monster in an indie horror movie right before it goes on the attack. It’s only the laws of physics that protect Hinata from Kageyama’s ensuing rage. 

“False! You are dating Miya Osamu and you’re very happy. In fact, I am also dating Miya Osamu. Bokuto is dating Miya Osamu. We are ALL dating Miya Osamu.” 

“Have you lost your mind?

“ Duh — but that was ages ago. TOTALLY UNRELATED! So, FOCUS UP!

“You and Osamu are in love. It’s adorable and disgusting in equal parts. Now go dust off that Twitter login and tell the whole world!” 

“Do I look like Bokuto?” 

It is a well known fact that Bokuto has turned the practice of tweeting about his boyfriend into an Olympic sport. 

“Stupid Kageyama. You don’t get it!” 

“Because you’re terrible at explaining it! Whatever it is!” 

Hinata rolls his eyes. “Okay. I’ll say it again but you better pay attention this time.” 

“And from the beginning!” Kageyama snaps.

“ Fine!” 

“And that’s what happened.” Kageyama says after he finishes recounting Hinata’s extended explanation. “I don’t know.” 

Ushijima hums. “I see.” 

***

***

“Hon?” Daichi calls, poking his head around the corner to see Suga curled up on the armchair in their living room. “Do you know why half of the Japanese men’s national volleyball team is dating Miya Osamu, owner and founder of Onigiri Miya?”

“No. But, I do have a betting pool going with Kuroo, Yaku, Tanaka, and Ukai guessing who is falling for those onigiris next.” 

Daichi blinks. “You have what? Is it ethical for Kuroo to participate in something like that?” 

Suga shrugs. “Hasn’t stopped him before.” 

“Woah. Woah. Woah. Before? You’ve done this before?” 

Suga holds up both hands in a placating gesture.  “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself over.” 

Daichi exhales a full body sigh. “How steep is the betting pool? Wait —” He shakes his head and slaps his hands over his ears. “No. I don’t want to know.” 

***

***

The kotatsu in the center of Komori’s apartment is overridden by dozens of pieces of paper. Most of which are low resolution, blurry screenshots taken from across the internet detailing the latest of Osamu’s dating exploits. 

“As far as I can tell,” Komori says, "You are the first person Osamu is alleged to be dating. Some online tabloid ran a grainy photo of you holding hands two days ago.

Suna hums. Yesterday, he might have been annoyed to find his relationship had been leaked online without his consent. But given the events of the last 48 hours, now it’s at least a little funny that it preceded all this — whatever this is.

“Osamu sure gets around, huh?” Suna says. 

Komori chokes on a laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“You’re taking this well,” Washio says. “Considering half of Japan and counting is dating your boyfriend.” 

“Don’t forget Argentina’s representation in Osamu’s dating life.” 

“And Russia,” Washio adds. 

“Yaku doesn’t represent Russia. That doesn’t count,” Suna says.

Komori waves a hand. “Blah. Blah. Technicalities. Point is, this is a worldwide phenomenon with your boyfriend at the center of it all.” 

“It’s kind of funny though, isn’t it?” 

“Are you serious?” Washio says, lips tight and eyes drowning in existential pain. 

***

“You have to!” 

Aran rubs his temples — a feeble attempt at staving off the impending Atsumu induced headache. “Atsumu, I love you, but do you even hear yourself?” 

Wistfully, Aran recalls the simpler times a mere ten minutes earlier before Atsumu burst into their home, eyes wild and arms flailing as he explained the situation. 

“Aran! It’s for Osamu and Suna. Don’t you have any love for them in your heart at all?” Atsumu hits him with a serious case of puppy dog eyes. Under different circumstances, they would work like a charm but this isn’t something Aran is willing to budge on. 

Atsumu opens his mouth to speak again but Aran slaps a hand over his face before he can utter a word. 

“I need a beer to have this conversation.” Aran shuffles to the kitchen, hoping in vain that Atsumu will give up this crusade in the time it takes to grab the bottle and opener. To no avail. Atsumu is on him the moment he sits in his easy chair. 

“Osamu has been yer loyal friend since he was eight years old and this is how you repay him? By ABANDONING him during his time of greatest need?” 

“You are killing me.” 

“NO! Yer killing me!” 

“For the last time, for what I think are fairly good and obvious reasons, I cannot publicly or privately announce I am in a relationship with my boyfriend’s twin brother.” 

Atsumu blinks and for one blessed moment, the heavenly angels sing as Aran has the audacity to believe Atsumu actually grasps his point. Just as quickly, that utopia crumbles to dust at his feet when Atsumu begins to speak. “So you’re just going to abandon Suna and Osamu then? Like they never meant anything to you?” 

“You are insane,” Aran mutters incredulously as he tries to pry Atsumu off him. 

Across the house, the door opens and a moment later Kita shouts a quick, “I’m home!” 

“Welcome home,” Aran calls at the same time Atsumu cries, “Kita! Suna and Osamu need your help!” 

“No!” Aran says, quick to cut Atsumu off as he eyes Kita like the cat who caught the canary.

“Hmm?” Kita hums as he moseys the rest of the way into the room. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch that.” 

“Kita!” 

Aran makes a grab for Atsumu but he dances out of the way.

“Thank goodness you’re home, Kita. Aran is being TOTALLY unreasonable.” 

Aran sighs and takes on the unenviable task of filling in Kita on this bat shit situation that, in Aran’s opinion, has been blown way out of proportion.

“I see. So Suna and Osamu got themselves in a spot of trouble and this is the solution you came up with.”

Aran and Kita exchange a look and it takes little more than a glance for Aran to rest assured that Kita sees the obvious issue with this plan. Atsumu must see it too because his mouth falls into a pout.

“Both my boyfriends ganging up on me at a time like this. For shame.” 

Kita huffs a laugh. “Just because Aran and I can’t tweet or instagram or what-have-you about dating Osamu doesn’t mean I’m not willing to help.”

“Whaddya mean?” Atsumu says through a sniffle.

“I have an idea,” Kita says as he scrolls through his contacts, pressing the dial button when he finds what he’s looking for. It rings only once after he puts it on speaker.

“Hello?” 

“Sawamura, how are you? It’s been too long. If you have a moment, I have a favor to ask of ya.”

***

***

“You know,” Washio says, “you could just call Osamu and ask him what’s going on.” 

“But where’s the fun in that?” Suna says, thumbing through Komori’s latest stack of grainy social media posts. 

Washio’s gaze focuses on an indiscernible point in the distance. He sighs, long and weary. 

“You broke him,” Komori says. “Again.” 

***

Gin isn’t sure what the hell is going on with Osamu. And quite frankly, he neither wants to know nor does he particularly care. He’s witnessed enough in his short life to recognize when shenanigans are afoot. Regardless, shenanigans or not, Osamu’s love life is none of his business. Despite his best efforts, Osamu’s love life is determined to worm its way into Ginjima’s life whether he likes it or not. 

To be fair, at the present moment the intertwining of his fate with that of Osamu’s confusing love life is sort of his own fault. Did he have to click the video link Akagi sent to the group chat while he sipped his morning coffee? No. But did he?

TOGAKI: Miya Osamu arrived in this world in October of 1995. Born into a loving family, he was raised with his twin brother, Miya Atsumu. 

ESQUE: Oh so you’re taking us way back. 

TOGAKI: All the way back, baby. 

ESQUE: Literally. To when he was a baby.

TOGAKI: Yes, thank you for clarifying.

Ginjima scrubs forward. The last thing he wants to start his day with is a history lesson on the Miya twins.

TOGAKI: With that covered, let’s get into the theories. 

ESQUE: If you ask me, I think he’s dating that Suna guy. The rest of this is a half-baked hoax. 

TOGAKI: Half-baked? Half-baked? Hoshiumi Kourai writes and records a ballad professing his undying love and you dare call it half-baked?  

ESQUE: Yes, because it is. 

TOGAKI: It’s a good thing nobody is asking for your thoughts, because that is an insane opinion. 

ESQUE: Oh, I’m the one who’s insane? Me? 

TOGAKI: Mmhmm. 

ESQUE: So what, you think Miya Osamu is dating 17 people? Is that it? 

TOGAKI: Exactly.

ESQUE: Ridiculous.

Against his better judgment, Ginjima glances through the comment section, immediately regretting his decision. Regret is quickly becoming a theme for him this morning.

These people are insane . Ginjima swipes to the side, looking for anything other than this. He clicks on the first video he sees without bothering to read the title until it’s loaded and begun.

TOGAKI: EJP Raijin. One of the many men's volleyball teams in Japan — 

ESQUE: — and the center of one of the biggest controversies ever witnessed in sports history.

 

Gin closes the browser and throws his phone across the room. That’s enough YouTube for one day. 

***

Living in different cities, it is a rare thing that Suna and Osamu get to spend an impromptu night together. But somehow Suna makes it work, arriving in town just as Osamu is locking up the restaurant for the evening. It hasn’t been more than two days since they were together last, but seeing Osamu still eases that restless energy in his chest that seldom quiets unless they’re together. Suna slings his duffle over his shoulder with one hand and reaches for Osamu with the other. Osamu hesitates, just for a moment before taking Suna’s hand in his own. Hand in hand, they make the short walk to their place, sleazy celebrity gossip news be damned.

At home, Osamu showers while Suna digs through the dresser for some pajamas.  Once dressed, he unceremoniously throws his bag into the bedroom closet, shuts off his phone and drops it into the bedside table’s drawer. Osamu emerges from the bathroom a moment later and plops onto the bed, burrowing his face into Suna’s shoulder. 

“I don’t know how, but this—” Osamu makes a vague gesture with his hand, turning his head so that he’s no longer speaking into Suna’s collarbone. “Might be my fault. Do ya remember that weird woman I told you about? The one who wouldn’t leave me alone at the game the other night?” 

Suna hums and cards a hand through the hair at the nape of Osamu’s neck.  

“Well, what I didn’t tell ya, is that I might have made a tiny bit of a scene when she kept shoving that article in my face. I guess I got too used to living in our own little world and was caught off guard when a stranger came knocking on the door.”

“Aww, Osamu, you’re a romantic,” Suna coos. 

“Is it so terrible that I want to keep you to myself?”

“I think that’s my line.” Suna quirks a brow.  “You’re Mr. Worldwide. Remind me, you have boyfriends in how many countries now?” 

Osamu pouts. “I didn’t ask anyone to do that even if it was fun watching the press tangle themselves in knots trying to figure out the truth.”

Suna snorts. “As if you would ever willingly draw that much attention to yourself.” 

“I don’t even know who got it started. Or what they were trying to achieve for that matter. Hell, I’ve never even met some of the people who claimed to be dating me.” 

“They’ve got good taste,” Suna says, grinning.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“We’ll shake down MSBY for answers this weekend,” Suna says as he sinks further into the bed and pulls Osamu with him. “The guys and I did some investigating and all signs point toward Hinata and Bokuto. I’m sure Atsumu was in on it too.”

“I don’t know if I want any answers.” Osamu settles his head against Suna’s chest and takes a deep breath. “I just wish that we got to announce our relationship on our own terms, ya know?” 

“It’s not like we were keeping it a secret. Just no one ever noticed,” Suna huffs a laugh. “But, if that’s the case, I think I have an idea.”