Daichi's discovered two things about life in this dorm that have made his laundry routine much better than it used to be. One, nobody does laundry on Friday nights, so he almost always has the place to himself, and two, those generic brand dryer sheets with some kind of parrot on them are actually the devil's tissues. That's the only explanation he has for what happened the last time he used them.
Of course, the real fun starts when those two things collide. It's late enough on Friday that the place is a ghost town, but not nearly as empty as his own softener sheet supply.
This is a problem. He's scowling at the washer as though somehow it's the machine's fault he forgot to pick up more this week and contemplating whether crunchy undies are worse than, well. Still, there's only so much static one man can take.
Suga's never done his laundry on a Friday before, but two papers and an exam in the same week would throw off anyone's schedule. He's in his varsity team's shirt and old track pants that nearly slide off of his narrow hips when he uses one to bump the door open, his hands tight around the handles of his laundry basket.
He glances up—does a double take—and then ducks his head to hide a sudden faint blush of surprise. Oh no, it's the boy who lives on the next floor up. You know, the boy. The boy Suga's been meaning to say hello to at hall meetings. Or in the dining hall. Or whenever he jogs up the stairs past him and Suga's eyes go right to his...well.
Of course the moment Suga finally catches him alone is the one when he's exhausted after a hell week and wearing the worn out dregs of his wardrobe, holding a basket full of dirty laundry. Nice.
Still, Suga cocks his head to the side and manages a smile; he's nothing if not polite. "Good evening," he says. "Wow, it's empty in here, isn't it?"
Daichi's just trying to decide whether it's worth risking his stuff getting stolen by drunk upperclassmen in order to make a run for fabric softener when the door thumps open. He looks away from the machine, dropping the glare for a more neutral expression, and then a smile in return for the one he's getting. It's not hard to muster.
He recognizes his new companion and he even says a little thank you to whoever decided to send him not only help, but help with gorgeous brown eyes tonight. He's seen him around the dorm and thought he caught him staring once, but that was almost certainly wishful thinking on his part. It probably won't be this time, though. Just as the other guy speaks, Daichi remembers he's standing in a dorm laundry in chicken print pajama pants and no shirt. (It's technically a rooster with a mohawk. They may or may not say, "Rock out with your cock out." They were absolutely a gift from Tanaka that he only wears on laundry days.)
He wasn't expecting company.
"Yeah, usually is this time of night. Hi, though, come on in. Do you need a hand?"
Oh man, and Suga thought the view was nice before. He blinks rapidly at Daichi's answering smile, his blush settling more deeply across his cheeks, before he forces himself to tear his eyes away—oh hello floor, you're looking remarkably safe this evening—and shuffle further into the room.
"Oh no, thanks, I'm fine," he says as he comes over. "I'm stronger than I look."
The other boy is blessedly friendly, which helps Suga pluck up enough courage to pick a washing machine two down from where Daichi's standing. Close enough to be in easy conversation range, but not close enough to be weird.
...And if Suga sneaks a surreptitious glance or three when Daichi isn't looking, well, he's only human. (Those biceps. Those pecs. Those back muscles—)
Suga sucks in a sharp breath and abruptly bends over to shove his hands into his laundry and hide his face from view. His face is going to get stuck this red if he doesn't stop, he tells himself fretfully.
He quietly sorts his first load into the machines (whites; his mother taught him how to do laundry properly, even if it costs him more) while he gathers his thoughts. When he thinks he's composed again he peeks over the open door of his machine to see what Daichi's doing.
Which is when he notices the print on his pants.
His pfft is quiet, but still clearly audible in the empty laundry room. If Daichi looks over, he'll see Suga determinedly focused on straightening up again and shutting the door to the machine, but a telltale smile still quirks the corners of his lips.
Huh. That's interesting. He's definitely getting some color on his face. Daichi starts toward the door to help him--and to get a better look at that to see if it's a blush or him straining with his laundry, though for all that he's slender he doesn't look skinny or weak--but the other guy says he's got it so he leaves it.
He does watch him set up a couple of machines down, however. Excellent. Daichi turns away just a little to check the time on his machine and when he turns around again, the other guy is actually sorting his laundry. That... is frankly kind of amazing. Daichi's certainly impressed anyway, and maybe a little embarrassed of his own haphazard load. At least he knew enough to do the towels separately. That's a start, right?
He's staring into the drum of the washer again when he hears a soft noise from the other machine. He doesn't quite turn, just looks from the corner of his eye, but he can see it. He's totally getting laughed at. He starts to blush a little himself, unexpectedly disappointed, when he realizes what the (hopeful) reason behind it is. At that, he has to laugh a little himself.
"... They were a gift." That's no excuse, but hey. It'd be rude to never wear them, right?
Towels are certainly a start! It's the thought that counts, and all that. Suga would never judge anyone for their laundry sorting habits.
Their clothing habits, though...
Suga's runaway blush is mostly under control by the time he hears a chuckle. After Daichi offers an explanation, he pauses in punching in the load's cycle information to prop his elbows on the washing machine, tilting his head to look up at the other man. His eyes are bright with silent laughter, as if he's inviting Daichi to an inside joke.
"I wouldn't have been surprised if you'd bought them yourself, though. You seem like the jock type." His smile softens as he continues, "But I guess you're just the good friend type instead. I don't know a lot of people who'd wear those no matter who they were from."
Habits implies a level of understanding Daichi simply doesn't have. They're all clothes, he gets them all equally dirty, except for stuff he gets extra dirty. He washes the extra dirty stuff together and the not as dirty stuff together, and then the towels. Hasn't gone wrong for him yet... as far as he knows...
The casual way the other guy leans on the machine is unexpectedly charming. Daichi's still getting used to living away from home in a lot of ways but he's set himself up on that machine like he's been using it his entire life. He's good-humored and, well, attractive enough that Daichi's more than willing to overlook having fun poked at him.
He's never claimed to be a saint, after all. That tendency continues when he considers that he's just been called a jock. Daichi frowns thoughtfully and looks down then twists at the waist, looking for all the world like he's deeply considering his ridiculous pants. Any advantageous angles of his obliques, shoulders, back, those are purely coincidental.
"They're pretty comfortable, all things considered! It's the conversations they start that can be kind of uncomfortable but they do start conversations." He gives up the showing off and grins at the other guy. "Sawamura Daichi."
Suga, on the other hand, likes thinking in specifics; has always liked having things done properly and in the right order. He likes laundry, likes the idea of resetting the dirt and grime of the past week, likes the smell of laundry detergent, likes the soft feeling of newly cleaned cloth against his hands as he folds it. He can hardly claim to be a totally settled adult—his freshman year has been more than a little overwhelming, and when he’s home his mother still insists on doing the family’s laundry—but the step by step nature of the task always reassures him, especially after a long week like the one he’s just had. He’s looking forward to going to sleep eventually, but laundry comes first.
When Daichi starts to twist about, making his muscles shift and ripple underneath his skin in ways that are entirely too arresting, Suga’s eyes blink wide. He catches himself before he can stare for more than a moment or two, though—not again!—and then he retreats to the safety of laundry’s routine, tilting his head down and adjusting the washing machine’s settings with studious care. He can’t help but blink rapidly, though, and his lips press into a thin line, knowing that Daichi is still moving like that beside him. He swears he can see the movements replaying behind the darkness of his eyelids, as if they’ve been seared there.
When Daichi comments on his pants’ conversation quality after a truly thorough assessment, Suga’s only response is a shy chuckle. He looks up at Daichi from beneath his eyelashes—a quick glance that darts away again. A small smile curves his lips as he steps back from his machine.
“I’m Sugawara Koushi,” he says, turning to him now that it seems safe. “You can call me Suga, though.” His smile steadies, turns a shade brighter; his eyes close with it. Despite the butterflies in his stomach, part of him is celebrating—he finally knows what Daichi’s name is, after weeks of curiosity. Score. This is probably the best evening he’s had all semester, even if it’s also the most nerve-wracking.
Buoyed by his sense of victory, he says, “Um, if...you don’t mind, I have to do another load. Could I use…?” Suga points at the washing machine that’s right next to Daichi’s.
Laundry's something that got glossed over when Daichi's parents, or specifically his dad, was prepping him for the version of domesticity that dorm life provides. Food, on the other hand, he's got on lock, at least to the point that he's only repeating meals a couple of times a month. Being able to cook, otou-san had said, would come in handy not only for staying healthy but for meeting girls.
So naturally Daichi's attempting to flirt with a guy over laundry. A guy with really distracting eyes. Golden brown, soft, with a little beauty mark under one. What otou-san doesn't know won't hurt him.
"Suga." He likes the sound of that. Brief but not choppy, round in his mouth when he shapes it again silently. His cheeks flare up at that thought and he coughs a little. So much for the suave guy showing off.
"Huh? Oh, of course, of course." Daichi even opens it up for him, then pauses and closes it halfway. There's a solution for his problem here too. "On one condition..."
There’s more than one distracted party here at the moment. He...can’t be flirting by accident, could he? Suga thinks. It’s been going on for too long to be an accident. Maybe Suga’s gaydar is broken, maybe Daichi’s straight and Suga’s just lonely, but he prides himself on his observation skills most of the time. He might be biased in this particular instance, but he really doesn’t think he’s wrong.
He’s flirting himself, that much Suga knows. And he’s pretty sure that the cute boy upstairs—Sawamura, he reminds himself—is flirting back.
That’s what’s crowding his thoughts while Sawamura stares at him. People call him Suga all the time, but Sawamura’s tongue adds a sense of testing to the sound, a sense of care that seems as foreign as it is pleasant. He could stand to hear him say it again, he thinks.
So when the other man mouths his name and a soft blush comes across his face, Suga feels his teeth sink into the corner of his lower lip before he can stop himself. His face is starting to heat up again too, so he turns away when Sawamura coughs, turning his eyes down to watch his thumbnail run across the lines of his palm.
Please be flirting with me, he thinks, a whisper even in his own head.
He’s in fact so preoccupied that when he hears Sawamura say “On one condition,” his mouth starts answering before his brain can catch up.
“Is it a date? Please let it be a date.”
Then he processes what he’s just said, and his eyes go comically wide. His body tenses up, his face going an alarming shade of red.
“I...I’m sorry, Sawamura, that’s...I didn’t mean to...I mean, we just met.”
Edited (just tweaking something that's been bugging me for like days IGNORE ME SORRY) 2014-11-03 17:13 (UTC)
Oh, Suga's not wrong. In fact, Daichi's starting to wonder just how serious this is when he feels his face react to just the shape of Suga's name. The guy's gorgeous and just uncommon enough looking, with that soft silver hair and generous smile, that Daichi is absolutely certain he has to spend his life fending off advances. He's a natural for conversation, too, so maybe this is all just a matter of course for him.
And then he responds to Daichi's condition and suddenly it's very serious and achingly clear that he's not such a natural. Immediately Daichi lifts a hand, letting the washer door swing free, and tries to calm Suga down even as he's grinning. Grinning because, well, Suga's turned the color of a tomato (it's very endearing, the way his fair skin just radiates the blush) and because while that wasn't even close to his original request, it saves him a whole lot of edging closer and wondering how long he'd be able to justify hanging out in the laundry room once his stuff was done without looking like a creep.
"It's OK! It's all right. It's better than all right." His grin goes softer, a little lopsided. "I was just going to ask for a couple dryer sheets but if that's on offer, I'm not going to turn it down."
After the way his cheeks went warm just saying Suga's name, Daichi expects to feel a bigger reaction in himself when he accepts the offered date--or makes it the condition, perhaps, so is he the one offering then? Either way, it's absolutely affirmative and he only feels a few butterflies. Of course, that could easily be because Suga hasn't really confirmed it yet so Daichi looks at him hopefully.
"I mean, I'll still need the dryer sheets too, but..."
It's not like Suga didn't have his share of behind-the-school confessions in high school, sure, but as a young man from a small town where everyone knew everyone else, he hadn't wanted to...rock the boat, you could say. Besides, he'd had class representative and team duties to keep him busy and then his college exams to prepare for. It just didn't work out, in short; in no small part because he didn't spend any real effort on it.
He knows he's not bad looking, but he also doesn't spend a lot of time thinking about romance. That's become doubly true since coming to college, where he's been so buried in schoolwork that he's barely had time to do anything but run back and forth between his room and the library, with necessary stops at the college coffeehouse and his scheduled classes. People had told him that college was fast-paced, but he hadn't expected it to be like this. Daydreaming about the cute boy upstairs had been some of the nicest ways that he's passed the time this semester, and for one blinding moment he's terrified that he's ruined his chances forever.
Then Sawamura tells him it’s all right. He blinks, allowing the words to penetrate past his haze of panic and embarrassment, and then he lets out the breath he was holding in an audible sigh.
“Dryer sheets,” he repeats. "Dryer..." He's starting to giggle from how ridiculous this whole thing is. He can’t remember the last time he felt this elated, and it’s over laundry. He brings his hands up to cover his beet-red cheeks, starting to laugh in earnest. “Oh. Yes, I have some! Hold on.”
Suga dives back into his laundry basket, rummaging through to the very bottom where the supplies always settle. He ends up bent over totally at the waist by the time he manages to close his hand around it, heedless of any view he might be providing.
When he straightens again, the grin on his face is amazed and delighted, as if he can’t believe that this is actually happening. He steps towards Daichi until he's only a short distance away. “I also have some time free this Tuesday,” he adds, eyes bright as he hands the box over.
Daichi'd always struggled quietly in high school because there was always an expectation on the successful sports players--on anyone successful, really--to ostracize anyone who was different or who didn't conform to the typical expectations. He refused to do so but for Daichi the consequences were lessened by his own success and that was, in the end, the only thing that kept him from being on the complete other side of that divide. Here, he wasn't sure what to expect so he hasn't put himself out there, though he's also been less secretive than he would have been at home. It's been less central to his day to day life overall because he's just been too busy and it's just not as important.
Or at least it wasn't as important. Suddenly it seems very important, to let the air be cleared on this point and just let this happen. It doesn't have to be a big production. There doesn't even have to be any kind of back and forth or feeling out or second guessing. Maybe with someone else there would have been, a lot of fear or tentativeness, but Daichi's starting to think that's not going to be the case with Sugawara Koushi.
With Suga.
With Suga whose laugh kind of reminds him of bells. Daichi's heard that comparison made before and it always sounded kind of goofy to him but in this case it just makes sense. Not like temple bells, round and ringing, but the little silver bells every song seems to have at Christmas, promising unconditional happiness, prettily-wrapped surprises, and clear skies full of stars.
Whoa. Daichi gives himself a little shake. Where did that come from? He focuses on reality again, no bells, no stars, but apparently there are dryer sheets and... Track pants. Extremely comfortable-looking track pants. Yep. Comfort. Daichi is absolutely thinking about comfort. Maybe those are the fleece-lined kind, super soft and--
Suga's standing up. Daichi returns his smile watt for watt, not moving an inch when Suga gets closer. He doesn't even look down when he reaches out for the box, leaning in a little as he does so. "Tuesday sounds great. I've got a couple classes but they're early so I'm free most of the afternoon and night. What time works for you?"
Suga is used to quiet things—quiet happinesses and sadnessess, ordinary experiences. His life certainly hasn't been without its own stress and trouble, but for the most part things have gone as they were supposed to go.
So this bright, bursting-open feeling inside of him, tightening his chest and pushing laughter from his lips, is hardly what he's used to. It's just so...extraordinary, to find someone he likes and who maybe likes him in return. If he's honest, he wasn't sure that it would ever actually happen. But at its core, it's a simple enough concept, and he holds to the facts of it as much as he holds onto the box of dryer sheets, grinning at Sawamura while the other man beams back.
It takes a few seconds before Suga realizes two things: one, that Sawamura is really close, and two, if he wants to give him the box he has to let go first. He startles a bit, yanking his hands back from the box and leaving it in Sawamura's grip. "Oh—sorry," he says around a laugh. "Um. They're just whatever was cheapest at the school store. I hope that's okay."
He knows he should probably step back and re-establish polite conversation distance but he really, really doesn't want to. He's already gotten away with a date, he thinks somewhat dizzily. What could pushing his luck hurt him at this point?
"The afternoon's better for me, I think," he says, his voice soft and a little breathless. This close to him he has to tilt his head up a little bit to meet his gaze. "I get out of class at two."
He's pretty sure he won't be able to focus on studying anything before the date, so he might as well spend time with Sawamura first. Granted, he's not sure he's going to be able to focus after the date either, but at least he won't have the anticipation to deal with. The date might even go awfully, and then he'll at least have studying to distract himself with afterwards.
Looking at Sawamura's face, though—which is even handsomer up close than he expected, wow—he really doesn't think that spending time with him could ever be awful.
"More than okay." Daichi's used those before and they work just fine, especially in the whole not setting every inch of his skin on fire kind of way. Now, however, he has an additional sense of attachment to them because now--even if they smell exactly like the dryer sheets half the campus uses--they're Suga's. The laundry he dries with these will smell just like Suga's laundry. That idea fills him with a soft kind of warmth; it feels almost sentimental but is it possible to be sentimental about someone you met half an hour ago?
Then again, it could be an entirely different kind of warmth because despite the fact that he was raised to be polite and respectful and not get into people's personal space, Daichi's finding it difficult to move away from Suga. The fact that the other boy doesn't seem to be in any kind of hurry isn't helping, either. Daichi keeps looking down at him as he nods. "Did you want to meet then or maybe a little later? I'm done at one so it's all the same to me but I don't want you to feel rushed or anything."
He doesn't really move forward. It's just a shifting of his weight in place but it seems like there's that much less space between them. He can hear his father's voice telling him that's the opposite of polite, that it's worse, but it's a very far away sound and Suga's so close. "We can go whenever you're ready, just take your t--"
DING.
The dryer tumbling Daichi's towels announces the completion of its fluff cycle with a deafening ping and Daichi flinches. He'd momentarily forgotten where they even were and the sound startled him in a way that's really just embarrassing. The towels don't need to be folded, he could easily leave them there, but the delicate tension of the moment is broken. He chuckles a little, self-conscious both of his reaction to the dryer and his actions just before it went off. Hopefully the return to reality doesn't make things completely awkward, because he'd like to try to get that feeling back again, sooner rather than later.
Suga registers Daichi's words dimly, but he's much more focused on the soft look in Daichi's eyes, on the movements of his lips. He can feel his shoulders drop, relaxing into Daichi's proximity as the other man shifts his weight.
Then the dryer buzzes. Suga and Daichi jump in tandem, with Suga's head whipping to look at the source of the sound. He hears Daichi chuckle and smiles a bit himself, looking down and stepping away. "I guess you should get that..."
He can't help but scratch at the back of his neck, a little mortified by his own daring, as wanders back to his laundry basket. Okay, okay. Maybe there is such a thing as pressing his luck. He doesn't regret it even a little bit, though, which somehow makes his embarrassment worse. His mom would scold him if she knew he was flirting outrageously with handsome young men late in the evening.
His face scrunches at that. Now's not the time to be thinking about his mom; he loves her, but he's definitely leaving this out of his phone call home tomorrow. Sorry, mom, he thinks anyway.
Suga hums, buying himself time to replay the last few moments in his head and catch the thread of the conversation again. He doesn't want Sawamura to think he's not still interested in talking! He just needs a minute to regain his bearings. He nudges the laundry basket with his feet back towards Daichi and the empty washing machine, then kneels down to start sorting his next load. The machine door is still slightly ajar from when Daichi had held it open for him earlier, and that small fact pulls a smile onto his face again.
"How about two thirty? In the lobby upstairs?" They both live here, after all. "That should give me enough time to put my books away, and stuff." He knows Sawamura said he could ask for as much time as he wanted, but who is he kidding. He wants to be on that date now, and he doesn't think his future self will appreciate any extra dawdling either.
He plucks at his shirt collar, blowing a breath through pursed lips that makes his cheeks puff out a bit. It's easier to think when he's not as close to Sawamura. Calm down. One step at a time, he tells himself, and his first step should be laundry. At least for now.
Daichi's strongly considering dismissing Suga's recommendation because hey, they're only towels, it doesn't matter if he never gets to them, but he doesn't want to be rude--what a horrible thought, that Suga would think he was rude--nor does he want to seem like he's not taking what Suga's saying seriously.
Reluctantly, he nods, stepping toward the dryer and hauling his first towel out. It's not the specific warm, soft, fluffy entity in this room he wishes he had his hands on right now, but it'll do in a pinch. Something else to focus on for an little while until any and all thoughts of Suga as warm and soft have left his head. Or, well. Left as far as they're going to, though he likes how firmly they've already taken up residence.
He can't help watching Suga the entire time, though, and he perks up when the other boy addresses him again. "That sounds perfect. And I could always help if you need it." Daichi stops and just stares into the middle distance for a moment when he realizes what he just said, then shakes his head at himself and hopes Suga doesn't think too much less of him for it. Yes, Daichi, he clearly needs your help putting his own books away, because this is high school and he can't reach the top shelf of his locker. Except not at all. Smooth, Sawamura.
He clears his throat for his own benefit, hoping the small sound will break his own focus on what a silly suggestion that was, and grabs for another towel. It doesn't work even a little, so instead he decides to just completely change the subject. Subtle? No, but why start now? "So, what did you play?"
Take care of your responsibilities, Daichi. Fold your towels. Suga isn't going anywhere.
Suga pauses in the middle of tossing a blue shirt (this load is brights) into the machine, confusion crossing his face. "Help? With getting back to my room?" There's a weighted pause as both of them consider what Daichi just said, but when Sawamura shakes his head, Suga bites his lip to try and cover a smile. "Are you offering to walk me back from class?"
It's such a charming, old-fashioned gesture that Suga almost can't believe that it came from a ruggedly handsome guy like Sawamura. Definitely not a jock. Not a jock at all, wow. He has to admit it's a little weird, too, but mostly he's flattered by the gesture.
Suga can't look at Sawamura for a moment either, trying not to laugh. He gets the feeling that it would be taken the wrong way. Instead he digs through his basket, tossing a green shirt in after the blue one. "You could if you wanted? I wouldn't mind spending more time with you," he says with a shy smile, "but if you get out of class at one, you'd be walking there and back for no reason."
When Sawamura coughs and grabs another towel, Suga lapses into quiet, finishing the load while watching the other man out of the corner of his eye. He winces internally at the rough way Daichi's handling the cloth but holds his tongue.
He's just clicking the laundry door closed with the heel of his hand when Sawamura asks him another question. His head comes up as he rises to his feet. "Play?" he echoes, bewildered.
Neither are the towels, and to be fair, in Daichi's estimation, it'd almost make sense for Suga to abandon all his laundry rather than stay.
Ultimately, though, even though he just keeps embarrassing himself, he's glad Suga decided to keep right on sorting his clothes as though Daichi hadn't embarrassed himself. It's very endearing, the way he manages to both acknowledge it and still make it seem as though it's not a big deal.
What's even more endearing is the way he agrees to Daichi's hamfisted suggestion. He can tell from Suga's profile that he's smiling so it seems fair to smile back, even if the other man's not looking at him. "It wouldn't be for no reason." It would be for a great reason, in his opinion, but he'll keep that to himself for now. The offer's been accepted. What more could he ask for?
The towels are suddenly suffering much less abuse now that Daichi doesn't actually have anything to take out on them. They're still not exactly being smoothed--they are just towels after all--but the harsh snatching and whatnot have eased. He's putting the finishing touches on a third one when Suga reacts to his question. Daichi looks over, trying to avoid being too obvious in watching him stand, then points to Suga's chest. ... Shirt. To his shirt. That just happens to be on his chest.
"Your shirt. 'Sendai Tournament 2013.' Unless that's not your shirt in which case I'm sorry for presuming." Daichi keeps his tone like and conversations, but he's disproportionately bothered at the idea that Suga might be wearing some other athlete's shirt. He only just met him and they only agreed to one date. That's none of his business, right? And yet.
A few swift taps of the laundry machine's keys and his second load starts. That's all the clothing he had in this basket. He'd have to go upstairs to get the rest of his laundry from his room, but he's not exactly eager to leave.
He doesn't want to hang around with an empty basket either, though. That'd be weird, but not exciting weird like the rest of this evening has been. Just bad weird. Overstaying his welcome weird.
Suga, now standing, turns when Daichi points at him and looks down at his chest. His hands grab the bottom hem of his shirt and tug it outward, pulling the logo straight so that Daichi can see it clearly. It's definitely his own shirt, and the fond memories that arise when he looks at it soften his expression.
"Oh, I was in my high school's kyudo club," Suga says. He drops the hem and turns so Daichi can see the crossed-arrows logo on the back. "Actually, that's one of the reasons I chose this school. I'd like to continue, but...I have to focus on my studies right now."
He turns back, smiling. "How about you, Sawamura? Were you in any clubs in high school?"
Daichi notices the empty basket but, well. Suga seems like a proper human being as opposed to Daichi, who has let finals time and his own general tendency to let laundry get out of hand result in him washing nearly everything he owns right now. He quietly tries to will Suga's laundry into taking a little longer, though.
His heart warms right back up when he sees the reaction on Suga's face. Even if it is someone else's shirt, it's impossible to stay upset seeing the way his smile spreads. "Kyudo?" Daichi nods as Suga turns around; he should've noticed the logo before, he might have seen it, but he didn't make the connection. Suga, standing tall in a plain hakama, face stern with concentration... he could see it easily. He kind of wanted to see it. It seemed a shame that Suga hadn't kept it up here.
"Mmm, I played volleyball. I was the captain, actually." It's his turn to smile--he loved that team and he loves the sport. "I play here too, actually, though obviously I didn't make first string this year. It makes it easier to find the balance between classes and playing, though." Not that he's not disappointed but one thing at a time.
It's less Suga being organized, and more that his dorm is so small that his mother had to bring him a smaller hamper to fit in his closet. His room is smaller than the others because part of it was taken by the student lounge beside it. It's a good thing that his roommate is spartan and he's neat himself, or he has no idea how they'd manage.
The rest of his laundry is in a haphazard pile on his bed, and it's nagging at the back of his mind as he smiles at Sawamura. He doesn't want his roommate to come back and see his dirty clothing all over the place. He's not worried what Sousuke might think—Suga's pretty sure he wouldn't care—but instead it's a sense of personal pride.
"Captain?" He says the word in English, eyes widening. "Whoa, that's really cool. Volleyball, huh." He rubs his chin, imagining Daichi playing. That's the sport where they jump a lot, right? No wonder he's got such a great body.
Um.
Suga coughs a little, the hand at his chin coming up to cover his face. He's blushed more times in the past forty-five minutes than he has in the past three months. Is he ever going to be able to look at Sawamura without embarrassing himself?
"I—I really want to keep talking, but I, um." Almost against his will his eyes flit back to Daichi's bare chest and then away again. Okay yeah, no, Sawamura is too handsome, Suga can't take it anymore. He needs to beat a tactical retreat and process the amazing windfall he's just had in the shape of one Sawamura Daichi. "I have to get another load from my room. Will you...still be here when I get back?"
"Yep!" Daichi can't help puffing up just a little when Suga seems impressed. Granted, he's not the captain here and isn't sure he ever well be, but right now he's more concerned about Suga's opinion than his volleyball position.
Judging by the redness he can see peeking out from behind Suga's hand when he hides his face, the opinion must be pretty positive. There's something about Suga's intermittent shyness that Daichi is finding more and more charming. Normally he has no time for wallflowers or delicate types, but there's not really anything that delicate about Suga. At least, not from what he's seen so far. Could it be that Daichi's really just that overwhelming to him?
That thought makes Daichi's own cheekbones go pink. What an idea. He's not even trying that hard. Of course, then he sees Suga looking at his chest again and it's a bit easier to understand.
"Huh? Oh, definitely." Even if he has to wash everything here twice, if Suga wants him to still be here then here is right where Daichi is going to stay. "I'd like to keep talking to you too and, well." He gestures to his basket, where a full set of sheets is still waiting. "I've got some time ahead of me."
It's not Suga's fault that Sawamura is really attractive, okay. There are many reasons people invented t-shirts, and at least one of those reasons was so that Suga wouldn't have to actively think about keeping still and not tripping over his empty laundry basket every time Sawamura folded another towel.
Suga could probably get into volleyball.
"Oh, good." He smiles, picking up his now-light laundry basket with one hand. "I mean, the sheets aren't good? It sucks that you have so much to do, but I'm also really happy that we can hang out more." He cocks his head a bit, his smile widening into a shy grin. "I'm glad I met you today, Sawamura.
I'll be back soon, okay?" His room's unlocked, and he doesn't think Sousuke will be back for a while. He should be able to flop face-down on his bed and calm himself down without keeping Sawamura waiting for too long. He pauses, beaming at the other man, before he says, "Um, well...see you in a minute."
With that he turns towards the door, pushing it open with his free hand. He tosses a last warm glance over his shoulder before he leaves the laundry room, the door swinging open wide as he passes through it.
Just before it shuts, there's a glimpse of Suga in what he obviously believes to be a hidden moment: dropped to a half-crouch with a fist pumping back towards his chest in the universal gesture of Yes!
Then the door shuts behind him, and his steps fade quickly towards the stairs.
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Of course, the real fun starts when those two things collide. It's late enough on Friday that the place is a ghost town, but not nearly as empty as his own softener sheet supply.
This is a problem. He's scowling at the washer as though somehow it's the machine's fault he forgot to pick up more this week and contemplating whether crunchy undies are worse than, well. Still, there's only so much static one man can take.
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He glances up—does a double take—and then ducks his head to hide a sudden faint blush of surprise. Oh no, it's the boy who lives on the next floor up. You know, the boy. The boy Suga's been meaning to say hello to at hall meetings. Or in the dining hall. Or whenever he jogs up the stairs past him and Suga's eyes go right to his...well.
Of course the moment Suga finally catches him alone is the one when he's exhausted after a hell week and wearing the worn out dregs of his wardrobe, holding a basket full of dirty laundry. Nice.
Still, Suga cocks his head to the side and manages a smile; he's nothing if not polite. "Good evening," he says. "Wow, it's empty in here, isn't it?"
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He recognizes his new companion and he even says a little thank you to whoever decided to send him not only help, but help with gorgeous brown eyes tonight. He's seen him around the dorm and thought he caught him staring once, but that was almost certainly wishful thinking on his part. It probably won't be this time, though. Just as the other guy speaks, Daichi remembers he's standing in a dorm laundry in chicken print pajama pants and no shirt. (It's technically a rooster with a mohawk. They may or may not say, "Rock out with your cock out." They were absolutely a gift from Tanaka that he only wears on laundry days.)
He wasn't expecting company.
"Yeah, usually is this time of night. Hi, though, come on in. Do you need a hand?"
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"Oh no, thanks, I'm fine," he says as he comes over. "I'm stronger than I look."
The other boy is blessedly friendly, which helps Suga pluck up enough courage to pick a washing machine two down from where Daichi's standing. Close enough to be in easy conversation range, but not close enough to be weird.
...And if Suga sneaks a surreptitious glance or three when Daichi isn't looking, well, he's only human. (Those biceps. Those pecs. Those back muscles—)
Suga sucks in a sharp breath and abruptly bends over to shove his hands into his laundry and hide his face from view. His face is going to get stuck this red if he doesn't stop, he tells himself fretfully.
He quietly sorts his first load into the machines (whites; his mother taught him how to do laundry properly, even if it costs him more) while he gathers his thoughts. When he thinks he's composed again he peeks over the open door of his machine to see what Daichi's doing.
Which is when he notices the print on his pants.
His pfft is quiet, but still clearly audible in the empty laundry room. If Daichi looks over, he'll see Suga determinedly focused on straightening up again and shutting the door to the machine, but a telltale smile still quirks the corners of his lips.
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He does watch him set up a couple of machines down, however. Excellent. Daichi turns away just a little to check the time on his machine and when he turns around again, the other guy is actually sorting his laundry. That... is frankly kind of amazing. Daichi's certainly impressed anyway, and maybe a little embarrassed of his own haphazard load. At least he knew enough to do the towels separately. That's a start, right?
He's staring into the drum of the washer again when he hears a soft noise from the other machine. He doesn't quite turn, just looks from the corner of his eye, but he can see it. He's totally getting laughed at. He starts to blush a little himself, unexpectedly disappointed, when he realizes what the (hopeful) reason behind it is. At that, he has to laugh a little himself.
"... They were a gift." That's no excuse, but hey. It'd be rude to never wear them, right?
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Their clothing habits, though...
Suga's runaway blush is mostly under control by the time he hears a chuckle. After Daichi offers an explanation, he pauses in punching in the load's cycle information to prop his elbows on the washing machine, tilting his head to look up at the other man. His eyes are bright with silent laughter, as if he's inviting Daichi to an inside joke.
"I wouldn't have been surprised if you'd bought them yourself, though. You seem like the jock type." His smile softens as he continues, "But I guess you're just the good friend type instead. I don't know a lot of people who'd wear those no matter who they were from."
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The casual way the other guy leans on the machine is unexpectedly charming. Daichi's still getting used to living away from home in a lot of ways but he's set himself up on that machine like he's been using it his entire life. He's good-humored and, well, attractive enough that Daichi's more than willing to overlook having fun poked at him.
He's never claimed to be a saint, after all. That tendency continues when he considers that he's just been called a jock. Daichi frowns thoughtfully and looks down then twists at the waist, looking for all the world like he's deeply considering his ridiculous pants. Any advantageous angles of his obliques, shoulders, back, those are purely coincidental.
"They're pretty comfortable, all things considered! It's the conversations they start that can be kind of uncomfortable but they do start conversations." He gives up the showing off and grins at the other guy. "Sawamura Daichi."
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When Daichi starts to twist about, making his muscles shift and ripple underneath his skin in ways that are entirely too arresting, Suga’s eyes blink wide. He catches himself before he can stare for more than a moment or two, though—not again!—and then he retreats to the safety of laundry’s routine, tilting his head down and adjusting the washing machine’s settings with studious care. He can’t help but blink rapidly, though, and his lips press into a thin line, knowing that Daichi is still moving like that beside him. He swears he can see the movements replaying behind the darkness of his eyelids, as if they’ve been seared there.
When Daichi comments on his pants’ conversation quality after a truly thorough assessment, Suga’s only response is a shy chuckle. He looks up at Daichi from beneath his eyelashes—a quick glance that darts away again. A small smile curves his lips as he steps back from his machine.
“I’m Sugawara Koushi,” he says, turning to him now that it seems safe. “You can call me Suga, though.” His smile steadies, turns a shade brighter; his eyes close with it. Despite the butterflies in his stomach, part of him is celebrating—he finally knows what Daichi’s name is, after weeks of curiosity. Score. This is probably the best evening he’s had all semester, even if it’s also the most nerve-wracking.
Buoyed by his sense of victory, he says, “Um, if...you don’t mind, I have to do another load. Could I use…?” Suga points at the washing machine that’s right next to Daichi’s.
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So naturally Daichi's attempting to flirt with a guy over laundry. A guy with really distracting eyes. Golden brown, soft, with a little beauty mark under one. What otou-san doesn't know won't hurt him.
"Suga." He likes the sound of that. Brief but not choppy, round in his mouth when he shapes it again silently. His cheeks flare up at that thought and he coughs a little. So much for the suave guy showing off.
"Huh? Oh, of course, of course." Daichi even opens it up for him, then pauses and closes it halfway. There's a solution for his problem here too. "On one condition..."
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He’s flirting himself, that much Suga knows. And he’s pretty sure that the cute boy upstairs—Sawamura, he reminds himself—is flirting back.
That’s what’s crowding his thoughts while Sawamura stares at him. People call him Suga all the time, but Sawamura’s tongue adds a sense of testing to the sound, a sense of care that seems as foreign as it is pleasant. He could stand to hear him say it again, he thinks.
So when the other man mouths his name and a soft blush comes across his face, Suga feels his teeth sink into the corner of his lower lip before he can stop himself. His face is starting to heat up again too, so he turns away when Sawamura coughs, turning his eyes down to watch his thumbnail run across the lines of his palm.
Please be flirting with me, he thinks, a whisper even in his own head.
He’s in fact so preoccupied that when he hears Sawamura say “On one condition,” his mouth starts answering before his brain can catch up.
“Is it a date? Please let it be a date.”
Then he processes what he’s just said, and his eyes go comically wide. His body tenses up, his face going an alarming shade of red.
“I...I’m sorry, Sawamura, that’s...I didn’t mean to...I mean, we just met.”
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And then he responds to Daichi's condition and suddenly it's very serious and achingly clear that he's not such a natural. Immediately Daichi lifts a hand, letting the washer door swing free, and tries to calm Suga down even as he's grinning. Grinning because, well, Suga's turned the color of a tomato (it's very endearing, the way his fair skin just radiates the blush) and because while that wasn't even close to his original request, it saves him a whole lot of edging closer and wondering how long he'd be able to justify hanging out in the laundry room once his stuff was done without looking like a creep.
"It's OK! It's all right. It's better than all right." His grin goes softer, a little lopsided. "I was just going to ask for a couple dryer sheets but if that's on offer, I'm not going to turn it down."
After the way his cheeks went warm just saying Suga's name, Daichi expects to feel a bigger reaction in himself when he accepts the offered date--or makes it the condition, perhaps, so is he the one offering then? Either way, it's absolutely affirmative and he only feels a few butterflies. Of course, that could easily be because Suga hasn't really confirmed it yet so Daichi looks at him hopefully.
"I mean, I'll still need the dryer sheets too, but..."
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He knows he's not bad looking, but he also doesn't spend a lot of time thinking about romance. That's become doubly true since coming to college, where he's been so buried in schoolwork that he's barely had time to do anything but run back and forth between his room and the library, with necessary stops at the college coffeehouse and his scheduled classes. People had told him that college was fast-paced, but he hadn't expected it to be like this. Daydreaming about the cute boy upstairs had been some of the nicest ways that he's passed the time this semester, and for one blinding moment he's terrified that he's ruined his chances forever.
Then Sawamura tells him it’s all right. He blinks, allowing the words to penetrate past his haze of panic and embarrassment, and then he lets out the breath he was holding in an audible sigh.
“Dryer sheets,” he repeats. "Dryer..." He's starting to giggle from how ridiculous this whole thing is. He can’t remember the last time he felt this elated, and it’s over laundry. He brings his hands up to cover his beet-red cheeks, starting to laugh in earnest. “Oh. Yes, I have some! Hold on.”
Suga dives back into his laundry basket, rummaging through to the very bottom where the supplies always settle. He ends up bent over totally at the waist by the time he manages to close his hand around it, heedless of any view he might be providing.
When he straightens again, the grin on his face is amazed and delighted, as if he can’t believe that this is actually happening. He steps towards Daichi until he's only a short distance away. “I also have some time free this Tuesday,” he adds, eyes bright as he hands the box over.
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Or at least it wasn't as important. Suddenly it seems very important, to let the air be cleared on this point and just let this happen. It doesn't have to be a big production. There doesn't even have to be any kind of back and forth or feeling out or second guessing. Maybe with someone else there would have been, a lot of fear or tentativeness, but Daichi's starting to think that's not going to be the case with Sugawara Koushi.
With Suga.
With Suga whose laugh kind of reminds him of bells. Daichi's heard that comparison made before and it always sounded kind of goofy to him but in this case it just makes sense. Not like temple bells, round and ringing, but the little silver bells every song seems to have at Christmas, promising unconditional happiness, prettily-wrapped surprises, and clear skies full of stars.
Whoa. Daichi gives himself a little shake. Where did that come from? He focuses on reality again, no bells, no stars, but apparently there are dryer sheets and... Track pants. Extremely comfortable-looking track pants. Yep. Comfort. Daichi is absolutely thinking about comfort. Maybe those are the fleece-lined kind, super soft and--
Suga's standing up. Daichi returns his smile watt for watt, not moving an inch when Suga gets closer. He doesn't even look down when he reaches out for the box, leaning in a little as he does so. "Tuesday sounds great. I've got a couple classes but they're early so I'm free most of the afternoon and night. What time works for you?"
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So this bright, bursting-open feeling inside of him, tightening his chest and pushing laughter from his lips, is hardly what he's used to. It's just so...extraordinary, to find someone he likes and who maybe likes him in return. If he's honest, he wasn't sure that it would ever actually happen. But at its core, it's a simple enough concept, and he holds to the facts of it as much as he holds onto the box of dryer sheets, grinning at Sawamura while the other man beams back.
It takes a few seconds before Suga realizes two things: one, that Sawamura is really close, and two, if he wants to give him the box he has to let go first. He startles a bit, yanking his hands back from the box and leaving it in Sawamura's grip. "Oh—sorry," he says around a laugh. "Um. They're just whatever was cheapest at the school store. I hope that's okay."
He knows he should probably step back and re-establish polite conversation distance but he really, really doesn't want to. He's already gotten away with a date, he thinks somewhat dizzily. What could pushing his luck hurt him at this point?
"The afternoon's better for me, I think," he says, his voice soft and a little breathless. This close to him he has to tilt his head up a little bit to meet his gaze. "I get out of class at two."
He's pretty sure he won't be able to focus on studying anything before the date, so he might as well spend time with Sawamura first. Granted, he's not sure he's going to be able to focus after the date either, but at least he won't have the anticipation to deal with. The date might even go awfully, and then he'll at least have studying to distract himself with afterwards.
Looking at Sawamura's face, though—which is even handsomer up close than he expected, wow—he really doesn't think that spending time with him could ever be awful.
Gosh, he can't wait for Tuesday.
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Then again, it could be an entirely different kind of warmth because despite the fact that he was raised to be polite and respectful and not get into people's personal space, Daichi's finding it difficult to move away from Suga. The fact that the other boy doesn't seem to be in any kind of hurry isn't helping, either. Daichi keeps looking down at him as he nods. "Did you want to meet then or maybe a little later? I'm done at one so it's all the same to me but I don't want you to feel rushed or anything."
He doesn't really move forward. It's just a shifting of his weight in place but it seems like there's that much less space between them. He can hear his father's voice telling him that's the opposite of polite, that it's worse, but it's a very far away sound and Suga's so close. "We can go whenever you're ready, just take your t--"
DING.
The dryer tumbling Daichi's towels announces the completion of its fluff cycle with a deafening ping and Daichi flinches. He'd momentarily forgotten where they even were and the sound startled him in a way that's really just embarrassing. The towels don't need to be folded, he could easily leave them there, but the delicate tension of the moment is broken. He chuckles a little, self-conscious both of his reaction to the dryer and his actions just before it went off. Hopefully the return to reality doesn't make things completely awkward, because he'd like to try to get that feeling back again, sooner rather than later.
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Then the dryer buzzes. Suga and Daichi jump in tandem, with Suga's head whipping to look at the source of the sound. He hears Daichi chuckle and smiles a bit himself, looking down and stepping away. "I guess you should get that..."
He can't help but scratch at the back of his neck, a little mortified by his own daring, as wanders back to his laundry basket. Okay, okay. Maybe there is such a thing as pressing his luck. He doesn't regret it even a little bit, though, which somehow makes his embarrassment worse. His mom would scold him if she knew he was flirting outrageously with handsome young men late in the evening.
His face scrunches at that. Now's not the time to be thinking about his mom; he loves her, but he's definitely leaving this out of his phone call home tomorrow. Sorry, mom, he thinks anyway.
Suga hums, buying himself time to replay the last few moments in his head and catch the thread of the conversation again. He doesn't want Sawamura to think he's not still interested in talking! He just needs a minute to regain his bearings. He nudges the laundry basket with his feet back towards Daichi and the empty washing machine, then kneels down to start sorting his next load. The machine door is still slightly ajar from when Daichi had held it open for him earlier, and that small fact pulls a smile onto his face again.
"How about two thirty? In the lobby upstairs?" They both live here, after all. "That should give me enough time to put my books away, and stuff." He knows Sawamura said he could ask for as much time as he wanted, but who is he kidding. He wants to be on that date now, and he doesn't think his future self will appreciate any extra dawdling either.
He plucks at his shirt collar, blowing a breath through pursed lips that makes his cheeks puff out a bit. It's easier to think when he's not as close to Sawamura. Calm down. One step at a time, he tells himself, and his first step should be laundry. At least for now.
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Reluctantly, he nods, stepping toward the dryer and hauling his first towel out. It's not the specific warm, soft, fluffy entity in this room he wishes he had his hands on right now, but it'll do in a pinch. Something else to focus on for an little while until any and all thoughts of Suga as warm and soft have left his head. Or, well. Left as far as they're going to, though he likes how firmly they've already taken up residence.
He can't help watching Suga the entire time, though, and he perks up when the other boy addresses him again. "That sounds perfect. And I could always help if you need it." Daichi stops and just stares into the middle distance for a moment when he realizes what he just said, then shakes his head at himself and hopes Suga doesn't think too much less of him for it. Yes, Daichi, he clearly needs your help putting his own books away, because this is high school and he can't reach the top shelf of his locker. Except not at all. Smooth, Sawamura.
He clears his throat for his own benefit, hoping the small sound will break his own focus on what a silly suggestion that was, and grabs for another towel. It doesn't work even a little, so instead he decides to just completely change the subject. Subtle? No, but why start now? "So, what did you play?"
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Suga pauses in the middle of tossing a blue shirt (this load is brights) into the machine, confusion crossing his face. "Help? With getting back to my room?" There's a weighted pause as both of them consider what Daichi just said, but when Sawamura shakes his head, Suga bites his lip to try and cover a smile. "Are you offering to walk me back from class?"
It's such a charming, old-fashioned gesture that Suga almost can't believe that it came from a ruggedly handsome guy like Sawamura. Definitely not a jock. Not a jock at all, wow. He has to admit it's a little weird, too, but mostly he's flattered by the gesture.
Suga can't look at Sawamura for a moment either, trying not to laugh. He gets the feeling that it would be taken the wrong way. Instead he digs through his basket, tossing a green shirt in after the blue one. "You could if you wanted? I wouldn't mind spending more time with you," he says with a shy smile, "but if you get out of class at one, you'd be walking there and back for no reason."
When Sawamura coughs and grabs another towel, Suga lapses into quiet, finishing the load while watching the other man out of the corner of his eye. He winces internally at the rough way Daichi's handling the cloth but holds his tongue.
He's just clicking the laundry door closed with the heel of his hand when Sawamura asks him another question. His head comes up as he rises to his feet. "Play?" he echoes, bewildered.
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Ultimately, though, even though he just keeps embarrassing himself, he's glad Suga decided to keep right on sorting his clothes as though Daichi hadn't embarrassed himself. It's very endearing, the way he manages to both acknowledge it and still make it seem as though it's not a big deal.
What's even more endearing is the way he agrees to Daichi's hamfisted suggestion. He can tell from Suga's profile that he's smiling so it seems fair to smile back, even if the other man's not looking at him. "It wouldn't be for no reason." It would be for a great reason, in his opinion, but he'll keep that to himself for now. The offer's been accepted. What more could he ask for?
The towels are suddenly suffering much less abuse now that Daichi doesn't actually have anything to take out on them. They're still not exactly being smoothed--they are just towels after all--but the harsh snatching and whatnot have eased. He's putting the finishing touches on a third one when Suga reacts to his question. Daichi looks over, trying to avoid being too obvious in watching him stand, then points to Suga's chest. ... Shirt. To his shirt. That just happens to be on his chest.
"Your shirt. 'Sendai Tournament 2013.' Unless that's not your shirt in which case I'm sorry for presuming." Daichi keeps his tone like and conversations, but he's disproportionately bothered at the idea that Suga might be wearing some other athlete's shirt. He only just met him and they only agreed to one date. That's none of his business, right? And yet.
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He doesn't want to hang around with an empty basket either, though. That'd be weird, but not exciting weird like the rest of this evening has been. Just bad weird. Overstaying his welcome weird.
Suga, now standing, turns when Daichi points at him and looks down at his chest. His hands grab the bottom hem of his shirt and tug it outward, pulling the logo straight so that Daichi can see it clearly. It's definitely his own shirt, and the fond memories that arise when he looks at it soften his expression.
"Oh, I was in my high school's kyudo club," Suga says. He drops the hem and turns so Daichi can see the crossed-arrows logo on the back. "Actually, that's one of the reasons I chose this school. I'd like to continue, but...I have to focus on my studies right now."
He turns back, smiling. "How about you, Sawamura? Were you in any clubs in high school?"
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His heart warms right back up when he sees the reaction on Suga's face. Even if it is someone else's shirt, it's impossible to stay upset seeing the way his smile spreads. "Kyudo?" Daichi nods as Suga turns around; he should've noticed the logo before, he might have seen it, but he didn't make the connection. Suga, standing tall in a plain hakama, face stern with concentration... he could see it easily. He kind of wanted to see it. It seemed a shame that Suga hadn't kept it up here.
"Mmm, I played volleyball. I was the captain, actually." It's his turn to smile--he loved that team and he loves the sport. "I play here too, actually, though obviously I didn't make first string this year. It makes it easier to find the balance between classes and playing, though." Not that he's not disappointed but one thing at a time.
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The rest of his laundry is in a haphazard pile on his bed, and it's nagging at the back of his mind as he smiles at Sawamura. He doesn't want his roommate to come back and see his dirty clothing all over the place. He's not worried what Sousuke might think—Suga's pretty sure he wouldn't care—but instead it's a sense of personal pride.
"Captain?" He says the word in English, eyes widening. "Whoa, that's really cool. Volleyball, huh." He rubs his chin, imagining Daichi playing. That's the sport where they jump a lot, right? No wonder he's got such a great body.
Um.
Suga coughs a little, the hand at his chin coming up to cover his face. He's blushed more times in the past forty-five minutes than he has in the past three months. Is he ever going to be able to look at Sawamura without embarrassing himself?
"I—I really want to keep talking, but I, um." Almost against his will his eyes flit back to Daichi's bare chest and then away again. Okay yeah, no, Sawamura is too handsome, Suga can't take it anymore. He needs to beat a tactical retreat and process the amazing windfall he's just had in the shape of one Sawamura Daichi. "I have to get another load from my room. Will you...still be here when I get back?"
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Judging by the redness he can see peeking out from behind Suga's hand when he hides his face, the opinion must be pretty positive. There's something about Suga's intermittent shyness that Daichi is finding more and more charming. Normally he has no time for wallflowers or delicate types, but there's not really anything that delicate about Suga. At least, not from what he's seen so far. Could it be that Daichi's really just that overwhelming to him?
That thought makes Daichi's own cheekbones go pink. What an idea. He's not even trying that hard. Of course, then he sees Suga looking at his chest again and it's a bit easier to understand.
"Huh? Oh, definitely." Even if he has to wash everything here twice, if Suga wants him to still be here then here is right where Daichi is going to stay. "I'd like to keep talking to you too and, well." He gestures to his basket, where a full set of sheets is still waiting. "I've got some time ahead of me."
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Suga could probably get into volleyball.
"Oh, good." He smiles, picking up his now-light laundry basket with one hand. "I mean, the sheets aren't good? It sucks that you have so much to do, but I'm also really happy that we can hang out more." He cocks his head a bit, his smile widening into a shy grin. "I'm glad I met you today, Sawamura.
I'll be back soon, okay?" His room's unlocked, and he doesn't think Sousuke will be back for a while. He should be able to flop face-down on his bed and calm himself down without keeping Sawamura waiting for too long. He pauses, beaming at the other man, before he says, "Um, well...see you in a minute."
With that he turns towards the door, pushing it open with his free hand. He tosses a last warm glance over his shoulder before he leaves the laundry room, the door swinging open wide as he passes through it.
Just before it shuts, there's a glimpse of Suga in what he obviously believes to be a hidden moment: dropped to a half-crouch with a fist pumping back towards his chest in the universal gesture of Yes!
Then the door shuts behind him, and his steps fade quickly towards the stairs.