when hinata finally starts getting his own merch as a pro-volleyballer, his long-suffering long-distance boyfriend quietly starts collecting every jersey, magazine, sponsored product, and keychain he can find. he doesn’t even think about it it’s not like a planned thing but if he sees something with hinata’s face or jersey on it, he buys it and takes it back to his flat. kageyama isn’t the best at organising or at interior decorating so in between his plants and his exercise equipment every remaining free space has been haphazardly filled with hinata merch. it makes him happy, it helps ease the sting of missing shouyou, but for some reason, his friends and teammates won’t let him host anymore. he asked ushijima about it once, and ushi very bluntly responded "the others do not like the hinata shouyou shrine" and kags nodded but like. now he wants to know who has a shrine dedicated to his boyfriend and what that has to do with his ban from hosting post-game drinks.
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maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for four
a cute little steddie dads ditty based on this tweet
Steve chuckles under his breath and flips the page.
He’s got his back against the headboard in the low lamp light. It’s late and he’s reading some goofy romance novel that Max left for him last time she was over. Something about people on vacation. He doesn’t really know or care but it’s kept his mind occupied long enough.
Eddie’s sat at the other end of the bed, taking breaks from lightly strumming his guitar to jot down melodies or lyrics or whatever it is he writes in that notebook of his that he carries everywhere.
When Steve tries to start the next page the words stop being about the shitty hotel the characters are at and they start being measurements, instructions.
He slams the book closed in his lap and tugs off his glasses, gets Eddie’s attention and meets his eyes, curious.
“Do you think we should’ve gotten chocolate chip instead?”
Eddie rolls his eyes with a smile and sits his guitar beside him. Huffs a laugh under his breath as he crawls up to wrap both long arms around Steve’s waist.
“Well,” he drags it out, dramatic as always, “Since both of the girls said they liked blueberry better, I’m putting my money on blueberry being the better option.”
Steve’s weighing the options in his head, nodding because he knows Eddie’s right.
“I know, Robbie flips out every time we have regular pancakes but,” he huffs, runs a hand through his hair, “It's pancake day. It has to be perfect. Do we even have syrup?”
Eddie pulls his head back from where he’d rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder, his eyes now less amused and more confused.
“Okay, I thought we were stressing because it’s her first sleepover, what in the world is pancake day?”
Now Steve’s the one who looks confused, down-right offended.
“Uh, hello? Didn’t you have pancakes on Saturday morning after every sleepover growing up?”
Eddie wrinkles his eyebrows up. “No? Uncle Wayne woke us up and took us to the diner.”
And, well. Steve can forgive that.
“Oh. That sounds pretty fun actually.”
Eddie snorts.
“Yeah it was. It was probably just an excuse for him to go see his lady friend but I wasn’t gonna turn it down.”
Steve laughs and smiles at the thought of a grumpy Wayne trying to hit on the waitress and a child version of Eddie flicking eggs across the table.
“I wish I could’ve seen that.” He drops a kiss to Eddie’s temple before he continues. “When I was a kid, my mom always made a big pancake breakfast with syrup and whipped cream and sprinkles and it was the best part of the sleepover. I’ve always wanted to do that for Robbie.”
Eddie’s smile is soft and he’s tangling their fingers together over his lap.
“Aaaaaand now that she’s old enough it has to be perfect. That right?”
Steve nods, lets out the breath he was holding in, lets some of the tension seep right out of his own skin and lets Eddie carry it for a while.
Eddie shifts and tugs Steve so that his head is tucked just near where his guitar pick sits in the hollow of his throat.
“Well, lucky for you, when I took the girls to Rob’s room for bed earlier, when I kissed her good night she told me this was the best day ever.” He tightens his arms around Steve and he can hear the smile in his voice. “I think you could feed them cereal and they’d think it was Christmas morning.”
Steve can’t help the smile on his face at the happiness that his daughter brings him. At the idea that letting her friend spend the night is the best day she’s had in the six years of her little life. Thinks that it might be top five days in his own thirty-two.
He snuggles down further into Eddie’s arms and laughs when the man huffs and reaches to turn off the light.
He kisses his chest and closes his eyes.
“Good night, Eds.”
“Good night, baby.”
He falls asleep to the sound of Eddie’s breathing and the hushed giggles down the hall, more excited than he’s maybe ever been.
Eddie’s set an early alarm to go check for syrup.
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