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dira333 · 3 months

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The Gremlin or how to get over yourself - Suna x Reader (Angst to fluff)

A/N: I moved my writing schedule to write only on weekends. Things will take a lot more time but my health will be better off. Please enjoy this Suna Fic, it's my first time writing for him.

Words: 7,1k - tagging @emmyrosee because she loves Suna

It’s seven p.m. on a Thursday night when Suna’s phone rings, Keeping up with the Kardashians is playing on low volume as he swallows the rest of his Chuupet, a necessary entree prepping his stomach lining for the slightly burnt Rice he’s having for Dinner.

Samu’s curt in his greeting, kitchen noise in the background as usual.

“The Gremlin’s having a week off.” He says. “I’m not supposed to ask, but do you still own that pull-out couch?”

The Gremlin. He hasn’t heard that name in months.

Suna’s the one who came up with it, a silly joke that slipped out at an unfortunate time.

“That’s our sister,” Tsumu comments on the high-pitched wailing coming from the kitchen. “Just ignore her.”

“She’s not that bad.” Samu tries. “Just don’t look at her too long.”

The wailing stops abruptly, followed by the tell-tale sound of someone snuffling loudly.

“Samu? Tsumu? Are you home?”

Red-rimmed eyes peer into the hallway, silver braces glinting in the dim light. Your hair’s a mess that might have been pigtails sometime before.

“You look like a gremlin.” Suna points out. He half expects you to cry again. Instead, you kick him in the balls.

“Uh, sure.” He manages to pull himself out of the memory, the pain still fresh in his mind even if it’s been years. “She could just ask herself, she’s got my number.”

“Ah,” Osamu chuckles half-heartedly. “I didn’t like her last boyfriend. She’s still mad about that.”

“Boyfriend?” He hears himself ask, mind going a little frayed trying to picture you with a boyfriend.

“Yeah, I don’t know if you know him, but he was Nekoma’s Captain when we went to Nationals? Black hair that made him look like a Rooster?”

A chill runs down his back. “You let your sister date Kuroo Tetsuro?”

“Hey now, it’s not like I got anything to say in that matter. You know how she is.”

“Yeah, I do-” He mumbles, mind already drifting back.

“Why would I do that?” Gremlin asks, nose pointed to the sky. The braces look almost cute on you when you smile like that, a little arrogant and so very pleased with yourself. The new set of pimples across your nose ruins the look a little bit, but there are more important things to think about.

“Come on.” Tsumu whines. “It would be so funny! You just have to ask him out on a date.”

“Nah.” You blow a bubble with your chewing gum, clearly feeling very important. It’s rare that your brothers ask you for help and you like to lord your power over them.

“If you do it, I’ll ask Kita-san to let you train with us for one day.”

Your eyes light up at the prospect, even as both Samu and Tsumu groan in annoyance. The girl's Volleyball Club isn’t to be messed with, but you’re as competitive as your brothers. There’s a long-standing battle of who’s best and you’ve gotten better since you got into High School, yearning to show off.

He can’t quite understand why, but he respects it. You’re one of the youngest in your Class, born on the last possible day to make it into one school year below your brothers. Maybe it’s because you’re born prematurely. Tsumu calls it your obsessive need to be part of absolutely everything, Suna thinks you’re obsessed with proving yourself.

“Fine.” You huff. “So I ask the Basketball Captain on a date and then I just stand him up?”

“Yeah!” Tsumu nods eagerly, Samu a little preoccupied with his Bento. “I’ll even toss to you during training if he accepts.”

Midorima-san does not accept your confession. But Suna gets to be there, phone ready, when you kick him in the balls. Midorima-san screams like a little girl.

“Anyways.” Samu pulls him out of his reverie again. “I’ll text Kita to let her know you’ll pick her up from the train station.”

“Hold up.” Suna puts his phone between his ear and shoulder, trying his darned best to save both his dinner and his last remaining brain cells. “Why do I have to pick her up and why can’t you just tell her yourself?”

“Dude, keep up. Mom would kill you if she knew the Gremlin had to take an Uber in a foreign city when you’re perfectly capable of picking her up. Who raised you?”

“True.” He huffs, wrinkles his nose at the perfectly burned rice on his plate. Oh well, Take-out it is. “And Kita?”

“I told you she’s still mad about that Kuroo thing. She could never say no to Kita.”

“True,” he repeats, an acid taste on his tongue. He used to hate that, how Mr. Perfect could make even you swoon, the Gremlin, the monster every boy at school secretly feared.

“So, what did you do? That made her so mad?”

“Ask Tsumu about it, I have to work.” The call disconnects with a dissatisfying click and Suna grunts, orders Pizza, and calls Tsumu. He’s invested now.

Five days later he’s as well informed as he can be.

You’re arriving at exactly 5:24 p.m. and you broke up with Kuroo over both his workaholic tendencies and a job offer too good to decline.

Samu and Tsumu decided to throw a party at the news which didn’t go over well with you, even though you did decide to get drunk with them - Tsumu woke up with half his eyebrows shaved off and Samu still misses a box of his favorite cookies that he swears you took.

You like Tamagoyaki for breakfast and you’re here to decide between three different offers for three different teams, all Division 1 of Japan’s V.League. You’re a Libero now and a pretty good one too.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, offering you a Chuupet. You like the pineapple flavor best and that works out okay because it’s his least favorite flavor.

“Doesn’t matter.” You wipe your nose on your sleeve and stare down the roof. He can hear Tsumu somewhere below them, yelling some curse words into the wind. He’s probably fighting with Samu right now.

“Did you get asked out by someone ugly?” He asks, taking a seat opposite to you. “Do I have to beat someone up?”

“Kita-san is leaving after this year.” You point out. It’s a fact and you don’t sound too upset about it, yet it feels like you’ve dropped red-hot coals into his stomach, the acid bubbling from the heat.

“Uhuh.”

You pull your knees up and he averts his eyes, lest someone accuses him of looking up your skirt. It’s not his fault you never seem to remember that you’re not wearing shorts.

“Kita-san told me that Tsumu’s going to be Captain next year.” You mumble into your arms. “And he asked me what my plans are.”

“What did you say?”

“What do you think?” Your voice is sharp now, the usual sting of your words a welcome sensation. This is the you he knows well, unbothered if your truth makes others uncomfortable.

He leans back as far as he can, lets his eyes rest on your shoulder, the smooth curve of your neck. You’ve grown a few inches since you came here and it suits you well.

“You want to be better than Tsumu.”

You snort, hit his thigh with your fist. The touch lingers even when you take your hand back.

“Kita-san said I can never be better than Tsumu.”

Suna’s never moved this fast before. His head almost knocks into yours.

“He didn’t!” His voice is almost shrill, his chest tight with a weird sensation. You seem calm, brows arched.

“He’s right, isn’t he?” You tell him, too calm. You’re the most dangerous when you’re calm. “I’ll never be an Original. Tsumu will keep playing, Samu won’t. If I keep playing, I’ll be just like Tsumu. If I decide to do something else, no matter what, I’ll be just like Samu. It just sucks so much!”

“Be a Libero then.” It’s a slip of his tongue, nothing more. But your eyes are big and bright and he wants to forget the way you looked before, desperate and desolate, so he keeps talking.

“You’re tall for a Libero. You’re average for a Setter. You’ll always be at the back of the Court and always wear a different shirt. Tsumu’s receiving sucks anyway. You’ll never be Captain, so you’ll never have to argue with him who’s been better at that. You can keep playing Volleyball and do your own twist of it.” He shrugs. “Just… Just an idea. I mean, you can do what you want. It’ll always be original. You’re the Gremlin after all.”

He forgets how to breathe when you pull him into a sudden hug. You’ve never been one for cuddling, never been into touch that doesn’t lend itself to violence.

But it’s nice, how you fit right in his arms, like you’d grown just for that purpose.

“Suna!” It seems that he might have been able to forget quite some things, but not your voice.

“I’m here!” He lazily raises his arm, counting on his height. There are too many people on the platform right now, the bustle making it hard to spot you.

But then you step out from behind a gaggle of businessmen and his mouth runs dry.

It should be illegal to wear shorts this… well, short. Your legs are way too long to be real. You could probably break a watermelon between your thighs. Why is it suddenly so hot?

“Hey Stranger!” You greet him with a grin. Where you used to have braces is now a perfectly white set of teeth in a perfectly formed mouth. Oh, wait, no, there’s the dimple and the slight curve to the right. He feels a little faint and curses the fact he’s not had dinner yet.

“Hey.” Should he move to hug you? Offer his hand? Slap you on the back?

You take that decision from him, knock your left knee into his right like you used to do back in High School. “What’s up with you? Did you forget how to talk?”

“No, I’m fine. Just tired. How was the train ride?”

“Long. Boring. Are you hungry? Can we go eat before we drop off my stuff or do you have a ‘No girl stuff in my car’-rule like Tsumu?”

“Tsumu’s still single then?” He asks, directing you toward the exit. “Both’s fine with me. We can order take-out. What are you in the mood for?”

“You eat take-out? How shameful.” You wrinkle your nose at him in mock disgust. Would it be weird if he leaned in and bit into it, dug his teeth into your skin? Probably.

“You gonna rat me out to Samu?”

“Probably.”

“I’m letting you stay in my apartment.”

“I said probably. My Silence is expensive.”

“Hey, Suna!” A familiar voice yells over the crowd. He turns, surprised to see Komori.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nohr got a craving for that one Pork Belly Dish, so I drove over to get it for her. Is that your friend you mentioned? Hey, I’m Komori Motoya.”

There’s that familiar tightness again, building up in his chest as he watches you chat with Komori. It’s Highschool all over again, how you swooned over Kita, had private discussions with Aran or the fact that you regularly went over to Ginjima’s place for some kind of secret meetings.

It’s not that he dislikes you having friends. Or that he hates the fact that his friends like you too. But he’s him and that’s Komori, the nicest guy that ever decided to play Volleyball. Well, at least Komori’s not single.

“Oh, hi Suna.”

“What are you doing here?”

Washio furrows his brows at his less than friendly tone.

“Wow, I know I messed up a little today, but are you really still mad about my Block?”

Your eyes are on him too now and he swallows the bile down yet again.

“Sorry, I’m being a dick.”

“When are you not?” You ask, a teasing lilt to your voice. It still stings, but less so when you knock your knee against his again. “You’re both on his team then?”

“Oh, yeah, Mr. Miserable is our Middle Blocker. I’m the other Middle Blocker and Komori is our Libero.”

“Oh, a fellow Libero.” You grin easily. “I’m here to check out a few teams in the area. We could get together some day, maybe? When the Grump’s not so obviously hangry?”

Washio laughs. “Sure. Sunday works well for me. What do you think Komori?”

“I’ll talk to Nohr and let you know, but I think I’d be fine with Sunday.”

“Don’t I get asked too?” Suna grumbles and you elbow him. “Pork Belly?” You ask him instead, nodding at the take-out containers both Washio and Komori carry.

“Sure.” He agrees, because at least that will get him out of this conversation.

It’s almost time to go home and he’s still in possession of his second button.

Suna refuses to give it up and both Samu and Tsumu seem to think it’s hilarious.

“Hey.” In an uncharacteristic show of emotion, you weedle yourself under Tsumu’s left arm, press yourself into him as you peer up at Suna. “What are you guys doing after School?”

“Mom’s making Hot Pot!” Samu decares from your other side, finishing off the rest of the Yakisoba bread you had brought in as a present. You got all of them graduation presents. A book for Ginjima, new shoes for Tsumu - though you declared that you wanted his old ones - a mixed bag of Chuupets for Suna. All of the pineapple flavors have been taken out and while he should find it annoying, it’s a little too endearing to him.

“You’re invited, by the way.” Samu points out. “But Mom said it’s okay if you can’t come. Your parents probably planned something for you too.”

“Not sure.” He mumbles, fiddling with his second button.

“Oh, we’re going soon, right?” Samu flings the wrapping paper of his bread into the waste basket at the door and pulls at Tsumu’s arm. “Come on, you still need to confess to that girl from the Crafts Club.”

“What?” Tsumu looks at him like he just declared he’d start playing Basketball from now on. “Yeah, come on.” Samu tugs again. “We’ll get back to you later.”

And just like that, it’s the two of you, the air around you growing dense with unsaid things.

“You still have your second button?” You ask, pointing at it.

“Yeah.” With one last tug, the string gives away and he holds it in his hands. The button’s not even that big, he thinks as he rolls it between sweaty fingers. Just a tiny thing made from plastic that holds so much meaning.

“Were you planning to give it to someone?” Your voice sounds weird. He can hear his pulse in his ears, way too loud and way too fast. He’s going back to Aichi in a few weeks, doesn’t know much about his future but the fact that he’s got into College there, will have to get into their College Volleyball team if he wants to make it Pro. And even then, nothing’s sure. Not if he’ll make it Pro, not if his team will win the important matches. He could be doomed to be average for the rest of his life, living from the memories he made right here, in those last three years.

When he looks up, you look different than before.

You’ve got the Miya Gene of Stubbornness, and are the worst of all three when it comes to not letting go of your dreams. You’ve managed to turn around and beat everyone’s expectations in the last year alone, making it from an average setter to an extraordinary Libero. You almost won the Nationals last year and there’s word of it being a sure win the next time around.

It’s not a conscious decision, but it feels right. To open his mouth and say “No. I’m not giving it to anybody.” To fling that damned button out the window.

Still. He’ll probably never forget the way your mouth curved at the sight, like you were trying to hold something inside that was trying to burst out of you.

He misses your graduation because of a stubborn cold. He watches most of your matches until he gets so busy with training and College and just, life, that he falls off, little by little.

Soon enough you’re nothing but a memory and he’s probably less in your head.

After all, you’re dating Kuroo Tetsuro and making a name for yourself, aren’t you?

His heart is a traitorous thing, it seems, but at least it calms down over Pork Belly. You’re eating on the Couch you’re going to sleep on later, your legs familiarly thrown over his. Keeping Up with the Kardashians plays on TV, but it’s basically background noise now as you talk, laugh, and wave your chopsticks around.

It’s like old times, hanging out at your house after school. Any second now, Samu’s going to come in from the kitchen with his second helping. He can almost hear Tsumu’s nagging voice in the background, telling you “Shut up! I didn’t sound like that.”

“Hey, Gremlin.” Your head snaps around at the nickname and his mouth runs dry.

“What?”

“‘s nothing.” You mumble into your dish. “Just not used to getting called that way again.”

“Oh.” He’s suddenly not hungry anymore but stuffs his mouth nonetheless to think of a comment.

“You want me to stop? It was a stupid nickname, really.”

“Nah.” You shake your head and dig your heels into his thighs. “It’s okay. I am a Gremlin.”

“You totally are. Like, you didn’t even bring me a present. Didn’t your Mum teach you about housewarming gifts?”

“I totally brought you a gift!” You jump up and pull something from your suitcase. He recognizes it by sound alone, the crinkling plastic wrap a tell-tale sign.

“You bought me Chuupets?” He laughs, his heart tightening when he realizes that you pulled all the pineapple flavors out.

“Samu said you’re still eating them.” You point out, handing them over in a way that tells you this is just as awkward for you as it is for him.

“Course. What do you think of me? I don’t change like that.”

“Could’ve fooled me!”

“Okay.” He claps his hands on his thighs and sits up, grabs his phone from his pocket, and connects it with his TV. “History lesson. I’ll catch you up on what happened in the years since I graduated.”

“Oh wow, are you going to let me write a test on that too?”

“Only if you keep asking stupid questions.”

His alarm goes off way too early for the late night he’s had.

You just kept swapping stories, drunk on nostalgia.

The girlfriend he had in College, the most awkward affair of his life to date. “She was obsessed with my hair.” He spilled what he hadn’t even told Samu, “Cut off a few strands of it and kept it in her purse for personal reasons.”

How you got to play for the Tokyo Tigers and your awful first date ever with a guy who thought he could get free Onigiri through you.

“Kicked him in the balls for that.” You said, grinning smugly. He couldn’t help the “That’s my girl,” that slipped out of his mouth. But you smiled like you agreed.

“Morning Gremlin.” He calls out as he moves toward the bathroom. Your head pops up, dried spit sticking to the side of your face, hair sticking out in odd angles.

“Bathroom’s mine.” You declare with something like a war cry. He’s got a headstart, but you still beat him there, your body trained by years of living with the twins.

“What the f-” You kick him in the shins and slam the door in his face when he goes down. Long-forgotten memories of sleepovers resurface. What does it say about him that he’s still grinning when you step back out?

“I’m so sorry.” You tell him, your hair less messy, your face void of spit. He focuses on your eyes because your sleep shirt is a little too revealing for this early hour.

“Nah, it’s good. I like being heckled right after getting out of bed.”

You snort. “I’m making breakfast.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Hey, I’ve gotten way better! I bet I’m better at cooking than you.”

“I’ll let you try.” The Challenge lights a familiar fire in your eyes. He’s going to have to come up with excuses to eat out if he doesn’t want to turn into a sore loser.

“Morning loverboy,” Komori greets him at training.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Suna’s probably never been this diligent with his stretches before, but it’s a welcome distraction now.

“Nohr said she could do Sunday, by the way.” Komori’s not letting the topic go, however, and Suna can’t even blame his stubbornness. He’s grown up with Sakusa, after all.

“Great.” If negative excitement is a thing, he’s projecting it right now.

Training goes smoothly, however, which he’s thankful for.

It’s hard enough to deal with Komori’s excitement - he’s been trying to set up Suna since before he met Nohr, his enthusiasm only intensified by his own personal happiness - and Washio’s weird sense of humor on any day, but he doesn’t dare imagine what it would be like if he sucked. They’d probably tell him that he’s lovesick or something equally stupid.

“So, your girlfriend-” Washio starts when they gather for a quick break.

Suna barely avoids choking on the sip of water he’d just taken, can’t even be happy about narrowly avoiding death when a smug smile appears on Komori’s face.

“She’s not my girlfriend!” He points out hastily. “Remember the Miya-Twins? She’s their little sister.”

“Ouch.” Komori pulls a face. “That must have been a rough childhood.”

“So you’re not with her because they’d kill you if you’d try?” Washio asks and Suna’s glad his mouth is empty this time.

“No, I’m not with her because I’m not with her. We’re just friends. She’s the Gremlin, okay?”

“The Gremlin?” Washio’s brows furrow in the same way they do when he thinks about Bokuto. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Suna points at his shin, the darkening spot on his skin.

“She kicked me in the shins today because she wanted to use the bathroom first.”

“She’s a guest. Of course she should get to use the bathroom first.” Washio points out. Suna grunts in annoyance and turns to Komori.

“Don’t ask me for help there, I always let Nohr take the bathroom in the morning.”

“Yeah, because you’re whipped.”

“And you’re not?” Washio’s eyebrows are now doing the “Coach is saying something but I sense he means something else”-Dance.

“Weren’t you listening? She’s the Gremlin. There’s nothing there between us!”

“Good.” Washio puts his watter bottle down with a nod. There’s something there, maybe in the sound of plastic hitting the floor, or maybe it’s in his voice, but the knot in Suna’s stomach pulls taught to the point he’s afraid he might vomit any second. “That means I can ask her out.”

Suna’s good at what he does, because he’s not only observant but has a Poker Face to match it. He’s a strategist, plays the long game, all of those things.

So the fact that he did not see that coming from a mile away should scare him way more than the prospect of you dating Washio.

Oh god, what if you date Washio and it works out? And you move here? And he has to see you every time they do teambuilding stuff like movie nights or Karaoke sessions?

His mind races with a speed formerly unknown. His face is completely blank, at least he’s still got that going for him, but his mind is tormenting him with a terrible picture of you and Washio at the altar.

“I mean, you can ask her out, but I can’t tell you if you’ll have a shot with her or not. Remember Kuroo? They broke up recently.”

Washio nods slowly. He doesn’t know that “recently” is a very vague description. He’s not so sure about the timeframe himself, but it sounded like a few months have passed since that incident. Not that Washio has to know that.

“Can you give me her number?”

“Only if I want to get neutered in my sleep. But I’ll tell her you asked for it and offer her yours.”

Washio nods even slower and Komori’s face looks like he’s doing his best to hold back diarrhea.

“Well, do that, and if she’s not into it, I can still ask her properly on Sunday. She’s staying till Wednesday, right?”

“Right.”

“All right Boys, get back into position.” Coach yells from behind them. Suna’s never been more glad to get back to training.

Suna spends Friday and Saturday evening sightseeing with you, which is in itself an exaggeration. He’s never been one for sightseeing like the typical tourist.

“Okay, stop. And don’t smile, this background is serious.”

You roll your eyes, but don’t look around - you’ve learned from your previous mistakes. When he flips his phone around, you can see yourself leaning against the railing of a footbridge, behind you the central landfill.

“The Gremlin in its natural habitat.” He teases. You punch his shoulder as hard as you can.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Oh, come on,” He slings his arm around your shoulder. “You get to take one of me next. How about the mural with the poop emoji? Will that suffice?”

You lean your head back to look up at him and your face is so close now that your breath washes over his face. Your lips open and close as you speak, but there’s an odd noise in his ears.

Pain erupts from his cheeks as you pinch and twist them.

“Ouch, what the f-”

“You were zoning out completely. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Oh, good call.” Suna turns away to regain his composure. “Take-out or do you want to actually sit and dine.”

“Or we could cook?”

He pulls a face. “Do we have to?”

You laugh. “I could teach you a few things. Mom wouldn’t let me leave for college without knowing how to feed myself. And Samu asks me to help him every chance he gets. Cheap labor, you know.”

“So you’re saying that your cooking is better than Takoyaki from a street vendor?” He points at the sign he’d noticed a few seconds ago. Your confidence falters. So it is still your favorite food…

“What if, and hear me out, we get Takoyaki, enjoy your weird little poop emoji mural, and drop into a Konbini on the way back. By the time we’re home, you’re going to be hungry again anyway.”

“I’m not Samu, I don’t eat that much.”

“No? Well, I do. And I’m your guest, so what I say goes.”

Suna laughs along, ignores the tingling that erupts whenever you knock your shoulder into his as you walk. It’s nice, to be like this with you. Relaxed, at ease, no dangerous thoughts rolling around in his brain.

It’s only when you’re pushing the shopping cart down the aisle that things change.

Your phone rings and you pull it out, frown at the display.

“Sorry, I’ve got to take this. Can you pick up some more rice and vegetables? I only need five minutes.”

“Sure.” Suna keeps his face neutral as ever, but he’s seen the caller ID. It’s Kuroo.

“Hey Tetsurou, what’s up?” He can hear your voice as you walk away from him. You sound too friendly for a chat with your ex-boyfriend. He desperately wants to hear more, but he’s not a creep, so he pushes the shopping cart away from you, down another aisle.

By the time his mind clears a little, he’s far far away from the produce aisle and staring at an assortment of Shochu. He picks up two bottles at random and drops them in the cart before making his way back to where he was supposed to be going.

Suna’s not sure what wakes him.

He knows it’s a Sunday because his body, conditioned by years of training, tells him to stay in bed. His head feels a little fuzzy, telling him he drank too much last night, but it’s Sunday, so that doesn’t really matter anyway.

His blanket must have slid off during the night, so he pats around, eyes closed. What he finds instead is a face and his eyes snap open to dawny morning light and your annoyed grumbling.

His heart, usually a rather chill fellow, thrums in his throat. He’s frozen in place, his hand still somewhat cradling your cheek. His mind unhelpfully supplies him with the information that your cheeks are warm and soft, fit perfectly into the palm of his hand.

He tries his best to block out this information in favor of checking if he’s still wearing clothes.

He couldn’t… he wouldn’t… You blink and he goes completely still.

“Suna?” You ask. “Are you okay? Your face looks weird.”

“I…” He manages before his voice gives out.

This is both his biggest nightmare and his sweetest dream. If only he could convince himself that it’s not real, he could slip back into his dreams and consider it private.

Something on his face must have tipped you off. This is worrying, because since when can others read his face?

You pull his hand from your face and slip out from under the covers. You’re wearing boxer shorts and a tank top, reasonably dressed for what he feared might have happened.

“You have not changed at all.” You say, your voice way too calm to be harmless. He’s not sure what he’s done, but he’s going to regret it.

“What do you mean?”

You stop at the door and level him with a look he’s only ever seen directed at people you never want to come across, ever again. This isn’t going well for him.

“You’re the king of mixed signals, Suna. And I’m sick of it. Make up your mind.”

“Where are you going?” He follows you, a little less balanced than you.

“Out.” You pull clothes over your sleepwear, drag your hair into something resembling a messy bun. “I need some fresh air.”

“Look, whatever happened-”

“I know.” Your voice is as hard as steel now. “Nothing happened. Nothing ever happens.”

The door clicks shut behind you with a sound of finality.

You're still not back when Suna drags himself out of bed hours later.

His head hurts and his mouth is dry in a way that even three glasses of water cannot seem to fix. He calls you over the first cup of coffee, but you don’t pick up.

Five unanswered calls and plenty of messages later he’s ready to call the police. Sure, you’re one to hold a grudge, but accidents happen.

The thought of you hurt on the side of the road, will not leave his mind. His hands shake as he moves through his contacts, his first instinct as always to call Kita.

He doesn’t get that far, however.

“Why are you calling?” He asks, his voice doing some weird thing he’s not exactly proud of.

“Your friend.” Washio’s voice is serious in a way he hasn’t heard before. “She’s with me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” There’s the sound of a door closing. Suna can’t help but picture it. You’re probably on Washio’s Couch right now, the massive green beast he helped carry up the stairs a year ago. He’s probably made you a decent Lunch or a cup of coffee that does not burn away your stomach lining. You’ve probably told him everything already. Whatever. It’s not like he can fall any deeper in Washio’s eyes.

“Suna?” That’s Komori’s voice. It sounds like he’s on speaker phone now.

“Yeah?”

“I’d rather do this in person, but you’re both stubborn as hell. Everyone can tell that you like her.”

“I don’t-”

“Lying about has got you into this mess, you could be honest for once.” Komori’s voice stays the same, friendly and light as ever, even as his words pack a punch.

“It doesn’t matter.” Suna presses out. “I’m not good enough.”

He didn’t mean to say those last few words. It seems as if the truth is like a Chuupet, slippery in his hold - but a lot less sweet.

“I think she’d disagree.” Washio grumbles along with his deep voice. “Apparently you’re totally her type. Snarky assholes who don’t know when to stop teasing and stuff like that. Trust me, she’s not stopped talking about it since we picked her up.”

“How- How did that work out anyway?”

“Sakusa’s on Atsumu’s team, remember?” Komori explains. “I think she just needed someone to vent who’s not her brothers. Someone who knows the current you. Nohr is currently with her and they’re talking to someone called Kita on the phone.”

Suna flinches. It would have been less painful for him if you’d called the twins.

“I’m not sure if you know.” Komori starts again after a few seconds of silence. “But she doesn’t have an offer here. I’m not… I’m not telling you more about that, but I think you guys should talk. And be honest for once. You’re both grown ups, for goodness sake.”

“Sure.” He huffs. “Like she’s going to listen to me now.”

“Get over here.” Washio declares. “I’ll send her down as soon as you’re here. It’s on you to get her to listen, though.”

“Never have I ever served a ball into someone’s head.” Suna declares confidently.

“It was on purpose.” You point out as you down your Shochu.

“Tsumu?” He asks. You grin smugly.

“A Lady doesn’t tell.”

“You’ve never been a Lady.”

“I totally am!”

“You totally are not! You’re the Gremlin.”

“Well, at least I’m one of a kind.”

“That you are.” The words weren’t meant to come out this soft. But your eyes seem to mirror his sound, now pools of warm liquid that seem to pull him in.

…

“Never have I ever had a crush on someone in my school.” You drink right after you say it, but he’s too far gone to complain about you breaking the rules as he downs his own shot.

“Who?” You ask, giggling. You’re swaying in your seat, barely able to hold yourself up.

“You should get to bed.”

“Not without knowing who you’ve had a crush on.”

“You should get to bed first.” He gets up, utterly convinced that the Shochu won’t have any effect on him until he can barely keep upright without the Couch cushions stabilizing him. He pulls you up all the same, dragging you across the room. “Come on.”

“I sleep on the Couch.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Who did you have a crush on?”

“Who did you have a crush on?” He asks back. “Kita, right?”

“Everyone had a crush on Kita.” You brush it off. “Whataboutyou?”

He pushes you onto the bed, giggles when you bounce off the mattress. It looks so soft and he lets himself fall too, lands a bit too close to you to be comfortable, his head knocking against your shoulder as he tries to wriggle away. He can’t look at you properly in this position.

“The teacher.” He declares with all sincerity he can muster while going cross eyed looking at you. You’re so close now, he can count your lashes. One, two, three…

Your eyes narrow the moment you spot him.

You turn back towards the still open door but Suna’s faster, grabs your arm to pull you back.

With everyone else, he’d feel bad about this, but you’ve kicked his ass enough times. You respond in kind, gift him a few more bruises on his shin and pull him down into a headlock. He’s not fighting it. At least you’re not pushing him away, right?

“What are you doing here?” You ask. Your knuckles are no longer rubbing over his head, but rather brushing through his hair. Are you aware of that?

“I want to talk.”

You huff, let go of him. He grabs your hand before you can step away, drags you down the sidewalk by your hand. Your fingers intertwine as you fall into step with him.

“I’ve had a crush on you.” Suna points out when the park comes into view. “I don’t know when it happened, but I had a crush on you. In high school.”

“I know.” You point out, your grip on his hand neither tightening nor loosening. “Everyone knew.”

“Excuse me? I have the best poker face in the prefecture.”

“Oh please, you suck.”

“You suck!”

“Suna!”

“Rintarou.”

You stop, suddenly breathless as you gaze at him.

“What?” You ask, your voice raspy.

“You should call me Rintarou.”

“No.” You glare at him. “No, we’re not doing this. You can’t push me away and pull me in right after just to push me away again.”

“I know.” He looks down, surprised to see that you’ve still not pulled your hands apart.

“Tell me one thing.” He purses his lips, tries his best to make his words sound less pathetic than they are. “You could have had Kita. Or Ginjima. Even Midorima-san was kinda impressed with you. Washio has the hots for you too. Why would you even care about little old me?”

Softness washes over your face. You’ve never looked this good.

“I’m the Gremlin.” You tell him. You obviously are, in your layered slept-in clothes and your messy bun, your tendency to kick his ass even when he’s not asking for it. “You like me for what I am. I like you for what you are.”

And there’s a truth to that he hadn’t considered before.

You’ve been at his side for long enough, know how he acts after a loss or a win. You know he can’t cook for shit, have seen him block, have heard him snore.

A strange lightness takes hold of him. He feels like giggling.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks.

You nod.

He leans in, heart beating in his throat again, but for different reasons this time.

His lips brush yours, the softest of touches he’s never thought possible.

When you respond it feels like coming home.

They’re almost too heavy for the swings, you’re on his lap on the tiny set.

“So, Kuroo?” He asks when everything else has been talked about, over and over and over again.

Your head’s a comforting weight on his shoulder. He could get used to this, being so close he only needs to lean down a little to kiss you.

“We’re still friends if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s not what I’m asking, but good to know.”

“Since when are you jealous?” You furrow your brows at him. He looks away.

“Rin.”

“Yes, love?”

“Since when are you jealous?”

“Since you fancied Kita, I guess.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you said you loved me, so jokes on you.”

You straighten up and glare at him.

“I told Kuroo that I wanted to try, one last time, to get with you. He was the one who got me interviews in this prefecture. So if you have a problem with him helping me-”

“I don’t have a problem with that, I just-”

“You think he’s better than you and wants me back eventually?”

“It sounds awful when you say it like that.”

You laugh. “You’ll have to work on that. It’s cute now, but your jealousy won’t be cute forever.”

You kiss the comeback from his lips. His stomach grumbles loudly.

“Lets get back to the others.” You pull him up from the swings. “It’s time for dinner anyway.”

“Do we have to? We could just go home and have fun instead.”

“Suna Rintarou. Your friends just helped you get over yourself and you want to repay them like that?”

“You’re only here until Wednesday and you want to spend time with my friends instead of with just me? Shame on you.”

“We can call in sick tomorrow? How does that sound?”

“Oh, you are a dangerous influence.”

Rintarou hollers loudly as the ball connects with your outstretched arms and soars through the air. Nohr claps exitedly next to him.

“That was a good one.” He calls out. “The Fans are going to love this.”

“How many followers do you have now?”

“About 500.000 and counting. Tsumu is still salty about it.”

“How many does he-” Nohr interrupts herself when Komori drops on the chair next to her and passes her a cup of soda. “Thanks, Baby.”

“Get a room.” Rintarou teases, already zooming in on you as you prepare for another receive.

“I bet they’re going to win. Who dares to go against me?”

“I will. We have a strong Offense on the other side and the Game just started. Loser has to pay Dinner?”

“Deal.”

…

Your expression is thunderous when you exit the changing rooms.

“Hey Gremlin,” Rintarou calls out to you, watches as you part ways with your teammates and march over.

“You played good.” He points out and leans forward, softly bites your nose as a way of greeting.

“Not good enough.” You knock your head against his shoulder. “And it was the last game of the Season. This sucks so much.”

“I know, I know.” He rubs your back, pulls you closer even. “But it wasn’t your fault. Number seven messed up a lot of the blocks. You couldn’t do anything about that.”

“I know.”

“You wanna go out with the Guys? Or go straight home and pack for tomorrow?”

You’re quiet for a while. He lets you stew on the decision. There’s no formula on how to feel better after a loss, no other way to go over this than to listen to what your body and your mind tell you.

“Can we get drunk?” You ask finally. “At that bar that serves fried chicken? We don’t have to leave that early for Osaka, right?”

“No, we can get drunk. Do you wanna take some stupid selfies and send them to Tsumu?”

“Yeah.” You nod, press a kiss to his chin. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Great. Also, we have to pay for Washio’s dinner.”

“No!” You whine. “You need to stop betting on me. Rin!”

He laughs. “You say that now like you’re not going to bet on me during my next game.”

“That’s different.” You point out and take his hand. “I only take bets that I’ll win.”

“Ah, what’s losing one bet or two if I’ve got you?”

“Sap.”

“Gremlin.”

“Yours.” You grin, smug about it.

“Mine.” He agrees.

#my writing #suna x reader #suna angst #suna fluff #suna rintarou #suna hq #inarizaki fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #miya twins #ejp raijin

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