Summary: A simple interview reveals that Hinata and Kageyama live in the same Olympic apartment building. The media immediately concludes they're dating. Unfortunately, every attempt to deny the rumor somehow makes it worse.
TW/CW: crack, olympic athlete AU, fluff
a/n: part two of this! i know i havent been that active, ive just been dealing with a lot recently, plus my moms cousin is getting married this weekend and i had to help prepare for it.
It started with a headline. Not a tweet. Not a blurry fan photo. An honest-to-God article.
INSIDE TEAM JAPAN: KAGEYAMA AND HINATA CAUGHT SHARING A BED
The article cited an anonymous source. The anonymous source was, according to Atsumu, "a wee little rat."
"I wasn't the rat," Atsumu announced the second he walked into breakfast.
No one had accused him. Sakusa looked up from his yogurt.
"So why are you defending yourself?"
"...'Cause I wasn't the rat."
Bokuto pointed his chopsticks at him. "It was definitely you."
"You literally narrate their lives."
Across the cafeteria, Hinata blinked sleepily at his phone. "...Huh."
Kageyama sat beside him, spoon halfway to his mouth. "What."
"They know you guys fell asleep together." Sakusa explained.
"...That's it?" Kageyama frowned. "We did."
Neither of them seemed particularly concerned. Meanwhile, every other member of Team Japan had already read the article. Bokuto slammed his palms against the table.
"They called it an intimate overnight rendezvous!"
"They make it sound like a spy mission," Hoshiumi muttered.
"It was game film," Hinata said.
"You fell asleep first," Kageyama corrected.
"You fell asleep five minutes later."
"You drooled." Kageyama countered.
"I do not!" Hinata denied.
The cafeteria slowly fell silent. Bokuto looked at Akaashi. "...They're arguing about who sleeps uglier."
"They're arguing about objective sleep behaviors."
By the afternoon, the press conference had become a feeding frenzy. A reporter stood. "So...would either of you like to comment on the reports that you spent the night together?"
Hinata smiled politely. "Oh! Yeah."
Pens immediately began scribbling.
"We were watching old match footage."
"There was only one bed."
Another reporter raised her hand. "So why didn't one of you leave?"
Kageyama stared at her. "...We were asleep."
The next morning's headlines were somehow even worse.
KAGEYAMA CONFIRMS THEY SHARED A BED ALL NIGHT
Three days later, the internet found new ammunition. Hinata was doing one of those rapid-fire interviews where athletes answered silly questions while walking through the training center.
"Last person you texted?"
"Oh!" Without thinking, he unlocked his phone. The camera caught it for less than a second. That was all the internet needed. Within an hour, screenshots flooded every social media platform. At the top of his messages sat one contact.
Not "Kageyama." Not "Setter." Not "Idiot." A bright little heart. The theories began before the interview had even finished airing. By dinner, Bokuto was practically vibrating. "Tobio?"
Hinata looked up from his rice. "...Yeah?"
The entire table froze. Atsumu slowly lowered his chopsticks. "Oh, he's hopeless."
"You cant just say that!"
"He's my favorite setter."
Kageyama, who had been quietly eating this entire time, finally spoke. "I have a volleyball next to your name."
Everyone turned toward him.
Hinata nodded. Sakusa pinched the bridge of his nose. "You deserve each other."
"We're not dating," they said at exactly the same time.
The silence afterward somehow made everything worse. A week later, Bokuto made the mistake of opening the replies beneath a photo of Kageyama fixing Hinata's jersey after practice.
This is straight out of chapter fourteen.
"...Chapter fourteen of what?"
Kuroo looked over his shoulder.
"There are hundreds of them!"
"They made us side characters!"
"They gave me a pet cat!"
"They gave Akaashi glasses!"
"I already wear glasses," Akaashi replied without looking up from his book.
Akaashi gently took the phone from Bokuto's hands. "For everyone's sanity," he said, "close the app."
The rumors should have died eventually. Instead, people kept noticing things. The strange little habits. The impossible timing.
The way Hinata would pause in the middle of a conversation, hold out his hand behind him without looking, and Kageyama would place a water bottle into it before continuing whatever he was doing. Neither of them acknowledged it. Or the fact that Kageyama always knew exactly where Hinata was standing without needing to search for him. Or that Hinata somehow always knew when Kageyama was about to leave a room.
One reporter finally asked Coach Foster about it.
"They seem unusually in sync."
Coach Foster watched the court.
Kageyama tossed a ball without looking. Hinata was already in the air before it left his fingertips. The spike landed perfectly. Again. Again. Again. The coach smiled. "They've been answering each other's questions since they were fifteen."
Late one evening, Kageyama wandered into the apartment kitchen and stared into the refrigerator. Hinata shuffled in a few moments later, still half asleep.
"What're you looking for?"
"I came in here for water."
Hinata tilted his head. "...Chicken."
Kageyama paused. "...Right."
He opened the bottom shelf. The leftovers. He'd skipped dinner after the evening lift. He hadn't even realized. Hinata was already taking two bowls out of the cabinet. "You want me to heat it up?"
"...Yeah." He watched Hinata move around the kitchen like he'd done it a hundred times.
"...How do you keep doing that?" Kageyama asked quietly.
Hinata looked over his shoulder. "Doing what?"
Hinata frowned as though the answer should've been obvious. "I don't know." He really didn't. He just did.
Outside their apartment, thousands of strangers continued trying to decide whether they were rivals, friends, soulmates, or secretly dating.
Inside, Kageyama accepted the bowl Hinata handed him without asking how he'd known exactly how hungry he was.
Hinata didn't ask why Kageyama always reached for the bowl with the chipped rim because he liked the way it fit in his hands. Neither of them noticed those things anymore. They simply existed in the quiet space they'd built together over the years—a place without labels, where understanding had long since replaced explanation.
