Your Hand in Mine

By: TG

Summary: "What the hell's your problem?!"

"You! You're my problem!" Sawamura shouts.

In which Seido's #1 battery cannot communicate off the field to save their lives and everyone suffers for it.

Disclaimer: I don't own daiya.

Warnings: none

AN: This started off as one thing and ended up as another. Idk. Written for day two of misawa week, for the hands prompt, though I guess this definitely fits in with the first day's mutual pining prompt too!

Enjoy!

After weeks of being expertly avoided, Kazuya accidentally stumbles on Sawamura on the first practice field in the middle of the night. He couldn't sleep, and when he wandered down to familiar (hallowed) ground, he discovered that Sawamura, the object of his uncertainty and frustration, apparently couldn't sleep either.

He paints himself into the shadows of the dug out and observes, at first. The night is chilly, the air feeling more like autumn than summer, but the target of his focus is out running in his t-shirt like an idiot, sweating and panting like he's been out here for hours. It's fairly dark, middle of the night with only the light of the half-moon and the stars to light the first year's path, but despite all of that Kazuya can still make out the dark smudges under his eyes and a crease between his brows that haven't been there before. Sawamura's posture is hunched and the pale lighting makes his skin look bleached and sickly –everything about him screams exhaustion. Kazuya hates seeing him like this, but part of him also feels a sort of vindictive pleasure in the fact that he isn't the only one who's been suffering.

It wouldn't have mattered, but Kuramochi had approached him a few days ago and asked (demanded) that he do something to fix it, and he had a point. Whatever's going on with Sawamura is starting to affect the team morale.

Kazuya watches in silence for a little while longer, wondering whether he should just go, but then Sawamura stumbles and nearly face plants mid-step and Kazuya sighs, knowing he can't leave the first year out in the dark alone. He steps out onto the gravelly dirt of the diamond, listening to the quiet crunch of it under his shoes. Sawamura doesn't notice him. The pitcher's head is bowed to the ground in concentration as he shuffles his way around the infield, and it takes planting himself in Sawamura's way for him to finally realize he has company.

"Oi, Sawamura."

"I –Miyuki!" Sawamura squeaks, head jerking up in surprise.

"It's Miyuki-senpai. And what are you doing out here?" He asks, frown deepening as a little shiver flits up Sawamura's spine. The sweat is drying on his skin and the night is only getting cooler. Sawamura squawks when Kazuya reaches out and drapes an arm across his shoulders, intending to drag him back up to the school and perhaps even lecture him on the merits of proper outerwear (and appropriate running times because 2am is not one of them for crying out loud), but the pitcher ducks out of his hold and backs away until there are several feet between them.

Kazuya blinks. What?

"W-what do you mean, Miyuki-senpai? I'm running like I always –" Sawamura trails off, eyes wide on his. Kazuya frowns. Sawamura is stubborn. He's the type who would rather throw a ball to the ground than have a batter hit off him, so it's a little disquieting that he's avoiding the batter now. He's never been so nervous around Kazuya, not even the first time they met, back when Sawamura was just a middle school student with a big mouth and an even bigger grin. Not even when Kazuya had him up against the wall by the collar of his shirt for insulting the one person Kazuya most looked up to on this team. So why now?

"Please try to refrain from playing dumb, Sawamura. I already know you're an idiot, you don't need to convince me," he says, changing tack. He hopes a little of the usual banter will relax him, and the grin that lifts the corners of his lips is real when Sawamura doesn't disappoint. He moves in to touch him again –a tap on the chest or a hand on his shoulder, something to take the sting out of his words, because sometimes he just can't not- but to his chagrin Sawamura backs up again, away from his reach. The pitcher whips his head around and glares, but Kazuya is almost taken aback at the glint of real anger in his eyes.

"Don't," Sawamura growls. "Don't do that anymore, Miyuki."

"I...what?" Kazuya can feel the annoyance bubble up in his chest, and it claws its way up his throat before he can think to stop it. "What the hell's your problem?!"

"You! You're my problem!" Sawamura shouts, and suddenly he's in motion again, pacing back and forth and angry, jerky movements, hands reaching up to pull at his hair. "You always do that! Stop touching me unless you mean it!"

"...What the hell? That's what this is about? This is why you've been avoiding me?" Okay, now Kazuya is mad. Their battery has been strained since Sawamura started his little avoidance routine, and his turbulent attitude has even started to affect the team...and it's all because of this?

"I don't understand you, Miyuki!" Sawamura steamrolls right over him, seemingly unaware of the storm building in Kazuya's veins. "I don't know! I don't know what you're thinking! You never let anyone in, not even me! You're constantly wearing a mask and –and I'm not talking about your catcher's mask! I can't tell whether you're being genuine when you touch me or whether you're just mocking me and I can't deal with that anymore!"

"Of course I mean it!" Kazuya shouts, wondering when this conversation got so far out of his control. Sawamura stops his pacing and stares.

I always mean it when it's you, he wants to say.

What he says instead is, "I fucking care about you, you idiot! What do I have to do to prove that to you?!"

The fight drains from Sawamura, leaving him look tired and small and lost. He puts a hand to his forehead and turns away, and Kazuya deflates too.

"I'm sorry," he says, softly. "I'm sorry. I'm not good with this kind of thing, okay? Feelings and stuff –they're difficult for me. But you trust me on the field, right? What's so different about trusting me now?"

"Because when you're Miyuki the Catcher, I know you're doing what you're doing to help me –to help the team. But when you're Miyuki the Person, I don't –you can hurt me. No one wants to get hurt," he says helplessly. Kazuya watches him for a moment, eyes following the nervous twist of his hands at the hem of his t-shirt, the way he hunches in on himself, small and vulnerable, and sighs.

"You know I can't promise that I'll never hurt you, Sawamura."

"I know. I know."

Part of Kazuya is still wondering how they got to this point. Another part of him is rolling its eyes, because of course they would be doing this on the diamond. It's almost enough to make him laugh.

Instead, he swallows and brushes the tips of his fingers over Sawamura's shoulder, and finally finally the pitcher turns to face him.

Eijun takes a moment to search his eyes and –no, there's no laughter, no jaunty smirk painting his lips, none of the cockiness that he's come to associate with Miyuki Kazuya. Instead, the catcher is standing there in front of him, looking like a nervous sixteen year old boy, and it's that voluntary show of vulnerability more than anything else that convinces Eijun that this is the real deal.

His throat is too tight to form words, so instead he steps into Miyuki's space, slowly, cautiously, checking his eyes, giving the second year time to move away, but –he doesn't. The realization that Miyuki might want this as much as him after all emboldens him, and he raises a shaking hand up to touch his jaw, fingers fanning against the side of his neck. Miyuki instantly leans into his touch, his own hand coming up to press Eijun's palm harder against his cheek. The pitcher lets out a shaky sigh and fisted his other hand in the front of Miyuki's shirt, pulling him in until their foreheads touched and their breaths mingled, warm and intimate between them.

"I really want to kiss you," Miyuki murmurs, and they're so close Eijun can almost feel his lips moving against his skin.

Eijun licks his lips, nervous, and losens the hand fisted in Miyuki's shirt to rest palm-flat against his chest. "Yeah, okay."

This is Eijun's first kiss and of course he's going to find some way to fuck it up. They end up tilting their heads the same way and the first year jerks back, clapping a hand to his nose. Miyuki looks so panicked for a second that Eijun forgets to be embarrassed and just laughs. The whole situation is absurd, he cannot believe this is happening, and it feels good to laugh again after spending weeks making himself miserable. After a moment Miyuki joins in, and they're still laughing when they come together the second time.

Eijun can feel the curve of Miyuki's smile against his mouth, the warm puffs of breath against his cheek, and when Miyuki presses two fingers against his jaw to tilt his head just so he practically melts into him. Miyuki's spare hand comes up to rest between his shoulder blades, pressing so that their chests are flush together, and Eijun makes a sound in the back of his throat and flails a bit, unsure where to put his hands.

Miyuki –the asshole- laughs against his mouth and catches one of his wrists, pulling it up around his neck. Eijun's fingers slide automatically into his hair and the catcher hums in approval and licks the seam of his lips. Eijun sighs and opens up for him, and wow, suddenly he's overheating despite the chilly weather and the thin t-shirt he's wearing. All of their points of contact are burning through his clothes, and the tongue in his mouth is hot and wet and perfect, and when Miyuki pulls away Eijun finds himself chasing after him.

When they finally head back to the dorm, Eijun takes his hand and threads their fingers together, squeezing.

Eijun is always chasing after Miyuki, has been since before he even came to Seido, but now maybe Miyuki will do a little of the chasing too.

Miyuki squeezes back.

OMAKE

The soon-to-be captain is meant to be observing practice, but he finds his eyes wandering toward the bullpen more often than was strictly necessary. He couldn't help it, after all that time being ignored and then that searing kiss they'd shared on the field last night, anyone would be a little distracted. Of course, the fact that Sawamura looks incredible in baseball breeches has nothing to do with it. At all.

(except it does, and Kazuya has the right to look now)

He's pulled out of his (inappropriate…maybe) daydream by a hand clapping his back. He glances over to see his newly appointed vice captain standing at his side, eyes trained on the players doing their drills.

"He's smiling again."

Kazuya doesn't have to ask who. "He is."

Kuramochi turns to squint at him, suspicious. "What did you do."

"Ah ah, I don't kiss and tell~"

"Of course you don't, I…wait. Did you just say -?"

"Hm?"

"You didn't."

"Se-cret!"

"MIYUKI KAZUYA, THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT WHEN I TOLD YOU TO FIX THE PROBLEM."

Kazuya is too busy clutching his ribs and laughing to respond.

Kuramochi makes a disgusted sound, but he has to turn away to hide his smile.

Worked like a charm.

AN: Thank you for reading! I apologize if there are any errors, I wrote this during my 12 hour shift and work and I'm too wiped to look it over haha.