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Atsumu has never been particularly good at sharing. Which is a problem when you have an identical twin. To be fair though, neither has Osamu.
Over the years they’ve bickered and fought over many, many things. From the clothes they wear, to insufficiently marked leftovers in the fridge — Osamu might try and say his leftovers were always marked, but if he was so concerned, he shouldn’t have left his food in the fridge in the first place.
But that isn’t all. They also have an unfortunate tendency to admire similar qualities in people.
That is to say, they have a long history of developing the same crushes. It hasn’t happened in a while, at least not to the same degree as their last knockdown brawl in highschool when they’d both decided to crush on Aran at the same time. None of their shared crushes had ever felt quite as visceral, or had emotions so high as when Atsumu and Osamu had raced to confess to Aran on his graduation day.
He’d turned them both down, quite nicely, but that, coupled with Osamu’s revelation that he was quitting volleyball after highschool, led to the twins not speaking for nearly three weeks.
Sure, they’d had similar crushes since, but they hadn’t let it reach quite the boiling point it had back then. Not until late March in 2018 when a rival from their past returned from Brazil, sunkissed and mind-bogglingly hot.
Pleased as punch, Atsumu remembers well that surge of delighted excitement he’d had at seventeen, watching Hinata play for the first time — and Hinata has only gotten miles better since then.
Shortly after Hinata joins the team officially, Atsumu drags Hinata with him to Onigiri Miya for some post practice food. Both as a welcome back to Japan meal, and also so Atsumu can show off how fuckin’ stacked Shouyou-kun has gotten in the intervening years. Atsumu doesn’t need his brother’s approval when it comes to his crushes, he just likes Osamu to know how fucking hot the dudes in his life are.
His plan to show off Hinata doesn’t quite go as planned. Atsumu had imagined Osamu would nod his head thoughtfully, impressed by who Hinata is now, agreeing that yeah, Shouyou-kun is super hot, and then give Atsumu some sort of backhanded compliment as encouragement to pursue his dreams of getting railed by Shouyou-kun.
Only that isn’t what happens. Instead Hinata walks in, sniffs the air, and gives Osamu a radiant smile, telling him that his store is so cool, it smells so good, and it’s so good to see him. All fine, until Osamu’s face lights up with telltale interest, leaning against the counter doing that fucking slow smile of his that he only uses when he’s flirting hard and offers to give Hinata anything he wants. The wink wink, nudge nudge heavily implied.
Fuming, Atsumu waits until Hinata leaves the store to run some errands, before confronting his extremely shitty brother. “Don’t ya fuckin’ dare ‘Samu.”
Osamu looks unmoved. “Don’t I fuckin’ what?”
“Ya can’t fuckin’ have him. I saw him first. I call dibs.” Atsumu stabs an accusatory finger in Osamu’s direction.
“Ya can’t call dibs on a person ya drip.” Osamu wipes down his counter like he’s completely unbothered. “Besides, I liked him first.”
“Oh no ya fuckin’ didn’t! I was the one who promised to set to him one day.” The ecstatic joy Atsumu had felt at the first day of try-outs — already certain Hinata was going to make the team based on his performance — when Hinata had walked up to him and looked him in the eye and asked ‘So you’re still gonna toss for me, right?’ had nearly made Atsumu ascend on the spot. Osamu isn’t going to ruin this for him.
“Ya, like a fuckin’ creepy weirdo,” Osamu scoffs, levelling Atsumu with an unamused stare. “Besides, first time ya saw him didn’t ya call him a scrub?”
Atsumu sniffs, jutting his chin into the air. “So? He proved me wrong, makes him cooler.”
“Just makes ya an asshole. He deserves someone who won’t treat him like shit.” Osamu slaps his rag over his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow at Atsumu.
Atsumu makes an indignant sound in his throat. “I’d never! ‘Specially now that he’s my teammate. Which by the way, means he should extra be mine.”
Osamu crosses his arms, getting into his obstinate battle stance, the bastard. “Don’t shit where ya eat ‘Sumu.”
Atsumu slaps a hand to the counter top, leaning in close to glower at his shitty, shitty brother. “Fuck it. I ain’t backing down.”
Osamu leans in close, eyes narrow. “Neither am I.”
“YA know I’ll fuckin’ fight ya for him.”
Osamu rolls his eyes. “We’re grown ups now ya fucking baby.” He resolutely ignores Atsumu’s offended gasp. “Let Shouyou-kun decide himself.”
“What, ya mean like we both date him at the same time?” Atsumu purses his lips, mulling the thought over in his head. Surely Hinata would see he’s the better twin and choose him. Hinata loves volleyball more than anything, and Osamu is a volleyball-quitter. They’d never work it out.
“Oh get that greasy look off your face, ya slimy bastard.” Osamu’s lip is curled like he can’t believe how gross Atsumu is.
“There ain’t no look!”
Osamu rolls his eyes again. “Whatever. And yeah. We both woo him and let him choose the one he wants more.” The way Osamu says it made it clear who he thinks Hinata will want more.
Atsumu ‘hmph’s’, shrugging his shoulders. “Fine. But no funny business ‘Samu.” He points a finger in Osamu’s face. “Don’t be fuckin’ weird and gross and try and suck his dick on the first date.”
Osamu scoffs. “I ain’t no cheat. I don’t need to rely on that when my personality ain’t nearly as shitty as yours.”
Atsumu tips his chin up defiantly. “Better a shitty personality than being boring as fuck.”
Osamu rolls his eyes, sticking out his hand. “Whatever. Neither of us gets to bang Shouyou-kun till he chooses, deal?”
Atsumu takes his hand, squeezing extra viciously. “May the best Miya win.”
Osamu gives him a savage grin. “Oh, he will.”
So Atsumu had been all for keeping it PG with Hinata. Maybe PG-13 if things kinda escalate that way, like what’s Osamu gonna do? Yell at Atsumu for slipping Hinata some tongue? Maybe some grinding action. Pft, who cares? That ain’t hardly nothing.
Yeah, he was all on board with the whole “no fucking Shouyou-kun” thing, he’d even proposed it for chrissake. But then Hinata had his first official practice with the Black Jackals and Atsumu got to see the extent of his stil fresh from Brazil tan lines in the shower afterwards. And like a motherfucking cliche, Atsumu found himself weak in the knees. How fucking short had Hinata’s shorts been there?
So Atsumu wants to explore the line delineating creamy pale skin from fresh bronze on Hinata’s thighs. With his tongue. Sue him! It ain’t Atsumu’s fault Hinata’s so goddamn hot. Hell, if he weren’t, Atsumu’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be in this situation with Osamu in the first place.
So like, yeah. Maybe Atsumu would shoot his shot if the opportunity strikes, he isn’t an idiot, or a monk. But he doesn’t set out with that goal — not explicitly. No, he wants someone to practice with. Someone who will stay late with him, pushing for perfection just as hard as he does. And goddamn if Hinata isn’t basically his soulmate in that regard.
Atsumu didn’t even have to ask the first time. He’d been working himself up to asking if Hinata wanted to stay late after practice one day — he’d even gotten permission all special from Meian and everything — when Hinata beat him to the punch.
Leaning against his locker stall like he had every right to be there, Hinata gave Atsumu one of those glowy smiles. “So Atsumu-san...” He drawled, extending the ‘aaaaahhn’ sound extra long. Atsumu looked up from the shoes he’d been untying and blinked. “Do you have any plans tonight?”
Atsumu felt his mouth go dry, unable to believe it was actually that easy. He cleared his throat, shrugging, aiming for nonchalance. “Maybe, maybe not. Whatcha got in mind?”
Hinata dipped his head in close, face going conspiratorial as he lowered his voice for Atsumu’s ears only. “Wanna stay late and toss for me?”
Soulmates.
Of course Atsumu said yes. Obviously. And after that first extra practice went well, drawing out Hinata’s limits, alternating sets with him — because damn if he wasn’t a precise setter in his own right, enough that Atsumu could more than see himself trusting Hinata in his stead — it made sense that they’d do it again. And again, and again.
And like, sometimes they’d stay long enough that the sun would go down and they’d both be starving and Atsumu lived closer anyways, so why not sling an arm around Hinata’s shoulders while they wander out to grab some takeout. And hey, why not invite Hinata over to watch some old Black Jackals gametape. Hinata seemed to like the idea, he kept coming over. Kept pressing their knees together while they ate and watched and talked through plays. There’d even been that time Hinata had curled up on Atsumu’s couch, tucking his toes under his thigh like he had every right to be there. Atsumu didn’t disagree.
Which is all good and fine. Hinata is an excellent volleyball buddy, maybe even Atsumu’s best ever — suck it ‘Samu — but that doesn’t stop Atsumu from wanting more. People always tell him he’s too greedy by half. And like, there’s only so many times you can watch Hinata’s pink little tongue dart out of his mouth as he eyes one of Atsumu’s tosses before a guy starts to vividly fantasize about Hinata shoving that tongue down his throat.
So he ups his game. He waits until they’re wrapping up one of their extra practices, stretching on the ground side by side, to make his move.
Coming out of his hamstring stretch, Atsumu tries for casual. “Shouyou-kun, are ya having some problems with tension in your shoulders, by any chance?”
Looking up from his groin stretch, Hinata blinks at him. “I don’t think so, why do you ask?”
Atsumu shrugs. “I dunno, I feel like your shoulder rotation when you’re spiking is a bit slower than it’d been last week.”
Hinata’s gaze sharpens and Atsumu almost feels bad for his opportunistic little fib. Hinata takes care of himself very carefully, so he’d take any suggestion of an issue very seriously. “Do you have any suggestions?”
Atsumu splays his legs out in front of him, lifting his hand to examine its perfect cuticles. “I think it’s something easy enough to solve with a good massage.”
He can feel Hinata’s eyes burning a hole into the side of his head. Hinata sighs, mirroring Atsumu’s pose. “Okay so I should probably talk to one of the trainers tomorrow then, huh?”
Atsumu stiffens. That wasn’t what he wanted. Hinata’s watching him, all big dewy eyes. “I mean ya don’t hafta wait ‘til tomorrow if ya don’t want to, Shouyou-kun.” He thinks he nails casualness pretty fuckin’ good. “I’ve been told I give pretty good shoulder massages.”
Hinata continues to stare at him unblinkingly; it’s like being stared at by a cat on the prowl for its next mouse. And then a smile cracks his face and he flops down on his stomach, tucking his head onto his crossed arms. “Okay, Atsumu-san, show me what you’ve got.”
Atsumu is only too happy to oblige. He scoots over, debating whether he should straddle the well-muscled curve of Hinata’s ass — decides against it because there ain’t no way he doesn’t pop a boner that way — and gets to work, smoothing his hands down the planes of Hinata’s back. Goddamn! He’s super fucking stacked. Atsumu is in particular fascinated by the dip and crease of the muscles around Hinata’s shoulders. He works his thumbs into what he thinks might be a knot and is rewarded with a happy little sigh.
Licking his lips, kinda wishing Shouyou-kun were shirtless, Atsumu spans his hands as best as he can across Hinata’s back, swiping them down to press the heels of his hands into Hinata’s lower back. Hinata lets out this soft little grunt that is going to fuel Atsumu’s spank bank for months to come. He needs to focus though. This has gotta be good enough that Hinata will let him do it again. And again. And again. And—
“Hey, Atsumu-san?” Hinata’s sleepy voice breaks through Atsumu’s thoughts, making him jump a little.
“Mhmm?” Goddamn he sounds a bit strained.
“Do you want me to return the favour?” Hinata asks, twisting around to look at him — and Atsumu takes a moment to marvel at just how fucking flexible he is.
This is how Atsumu finds himself laying face down on the MSBY practice court, Hinata straddling his ass — fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck — working the muscles in Atsumu’s back like he’s kneading tasty, tasty bread dough. It feels so fucking good, and not just ‘cause Hinata ain’t shy about pressing his weight down through his ass. Nah, his fingers are made of pleasure-pain magic, coaxing even the tensest muscle in Atsumu’s back into relaxing.
The worst-best part about it all is that Atsumu keeps making the most pathetic fucking groans every three seconds. Or like dreamy little sighs, or outright gasps. Each new sound brings heat to his cheeks.
Hinata bends in close, warm breath ghosting over the back of Atsumu’s neck. “You know, Atsumu-san.” Hinata’s voice is soft and too close and Atsumu might just outright jizz in his fucking shorts there. “You make the cutest sounds.”
Atsumu’s cheeks burn and he scowls, twisting around to disagree, but Hinata’s face is there, too close, their breath intermingling. And it ain’t just Atsumu’s imagination, Hinata is staring at his mouth. “Uhhh...”
Hinata’s molten brown eyes flick up to look him in the eye before dragging down to Atsumu’s mouth once more. “May I kiss you?”
The dissonance of that politeness with the expression on Hinata’s face is enough to snap Atsumu out of his fluster. He rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”
Hinata gives him a flash of teeth before he dips his head in, pressing their lips together. It’s like a thundercrack of sensation opens up something inside of Atsumu and he lets out a little whining sound like he’s some sort of embarrassing virgin. Hinata breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye, one of his very skilled hands stroking the hair at the nape of Atsumu’s neck. “The cutest sounds, Atsumu-san.”
Cheeks on fire, Atsumu fully twists around to lay flat on his back, Hinata draped over his chest. He hooks his hands behind Hinata’s thighs and yanks him forward. “Shut the fuck up and kiss me, Shouyou-kun.”
Hinata is only too happy to follow instruction, quickly opening up Atsumu’s mouth and sliding that perfect, hot, wet tongue into his mouth. Exactly what Atsumu always wanted.
Things escalate pretty quickly from there. They still practice together, and Atsumu still gets all up in Hinata’s personal space. And Hinata responds in kind, casually draping a leg over Atsumu’s lap. Or brushing their fingers together as they walk home from whatever restaurant. Or the casual way Hinata will decide he’s tired of watching game tape and straddles Atsumu’s lap, pressing hot little kisses to his neck and jaw.
Their first time starts like that. Hinata kissing, tongue plundering Atsumu’s mouth like he has every right to. Then a roll of hips and the acknowledgement of their shared excitement, both of them gasping into each other’s mouths. Hinata pulls away to give Atsumu a heavy-lidded stare. “Is this okay?”
Atsumu has a brief, brief, brief thought that this probably counts as funny business and Osamu ain’t gonna be pleased. But then what’s he supposed to do? Hinata’s sitting in his lap, lips kiss-swollen, a tent in his sweatpants that he is all too happy to rub all over Atsumu like he’s marking his territory. Atsumu ain’t a monk. So he nods, pulling Hinata back in for kisses, their hips rutting together.
They eventually make the excellent decision to shuck their pants and underwear, Atsumu curving a hand around both their dicks and stroking like his life depends on it. Maybe it does. He’s pretty sure he’ll die if he doesn’t get to watch Hinata absolutely lose it in his lap. He has the hot, slightly unhinged thought that he desperately wants to taste their cum intermingled on his hand. He gets his wish moments later, Atsumu crying out his release first, Hinata not far behind.
After he’s indulged in tasting the tangy bitter of their joint release, Hinata eyes him with interest, lower lip sucked into his mouth. Turns out Hinata’s just as much a stamina monster in the bedroom as he is on the court, preferring to go multiple rounds until Atsumu’s under threat of a dry orgasm.
Not that Atsumu’s complaining. He fucking loves it. ‘Specially that one time after extra practice when they were the last ones left in the gym, and Hinata had given him those fucking lava eyes, asking all polite and shit. “Atsumu-san, may I fuck you in the shower?”
Abso-fucking-lutely. Maybe it was a slight miscalculation on his part, because Atsumu is never gonna be able to enter the shower again without imagining Hinata on his knees, eating Atusumu’s ass out. Or look at Hinata’s naked shoulders under the spray of water without thinking about Hinata lifting him easily — surprisingly strong little fucker — pressing him into the cool tile and fucking his brains out.
Volleyball never used to make Atsumu horny, but a mix of Hinata blowing him while he sits in his locker stall, and knowing exactly what those fuckin’ thighs can do when Hinata leaps into the air, is enough to distract Atsumu with all kinds of horny thoughts.
Lucky for him, it seems Hinata feels the same way, frequently sneaking kisses at practice when no one’s looking, or goosing him on the ass when the team goes out for food. Or generally making a nuisance of himself. Atsumu loves every minute of it.
Atsumu’s pretty sure he’s more than a little smitten. Maybe a bit more than obsessed. He tries to feel bad about all the ‘funny business’ he and Hinata keep getting up to, but he really can’t be assed.
Being with Shouyou-kun just feels too damn good.
Osamu, meanwhile, proves just how similar he and Atsumu are sometimes.
It’s not like he sets out with the intention of falling into bed with Hinata at first. Unlike Atsumu and his creepy sense of ownership over Hinata and his whole ’my spiker’ bullshit, Osamu feels a lot less entitled to Hinata’s time. Which is what makes it so special when Hinata volunteers to share himself with Osamu.
It starts easy enough, Hinata in Onigiri Miya after running errands, chatting with Osamu about how he’s finding Osaka and all the things he’s seen and done, all the things he still wants to do. Osamu offers to show Hinata around if he’s up for it. And Hinata, of course, has the best answer Osamu can possibly imagine.
“Oh wow Osamu-san! Yes please! I bet you know where to find all the best food!”
He does indeed.
In between Hinata’s busy training and practice schedule, they find time to explore all the different food options Osaka has to offer. Osamu explains that as cool as most of the Black Jackals are, all they ever want is barbecue, and there is so much more to experience in Osaka. Lucky for them both, Hinata is down to try anything.
Osamu brings him to all his favorite joints: mom and pop ramen shops, the best goddamn tofu restaurant in all of Japan. They go for burgers and pizza where Osamu introduces Hinata to the cooks and owners he’s met over the years. They split a variety of okonomiyaki at Osamu’s favorite basement bar. They get boba tea and katsu sando with bread so soft you could cry for a picnic in Tennoji Park. Osamu even introduces Hinata to the original jiggly cheesecake, enjoying the way Hinata gives a little shimmy as he watches the cake wiggle before his first bite.
Osamu gets to hear all about Hinata’s adventures in Brazil, about the time he cut his foot on a broken bottle in the sand. Losing his wallet. The time he helped a little old lady cross the street and through their language barrier — she couldn’t understand Hinata’s Portugese with his accent — ended up trailing around after her all day helping her run errands. Osamu also couldn’t help himself from asking about the food, and Hinata is more than happy to deliver. Talking about all his favorites and the food he misses most.
It’s what inspired Osamu to drag Hinata to a new vendor in a mall food court. They brand themselves on their Brazilian meat sandwiches, and Osamu was hoping it might remind Hinata of his time in Brazil. He thinks he’s done pretty good for himself, enjoying the heck out of a marinated chicken sandwich, when he catches Hinata eyeing his caruru speculatively.
“Everything alright, Shouyou-kun?”
Hinata wiggles his spoon in the air a moment, before he purses his lips at Osamu. “It’s really good, and I’m glad you showed me this place.”
Osamu raises an eyebrow. “But?”
Hinata’s nose wrinkles. “But I think I make better caruru myself. I don’t think they used palm oil.” He takes a bite, as if to assess if his summation is correct. “Also there’s like an umami flavour that’s missing... Maybe they use fresh shrimp instead of dried?”
Osamu gapes across the little food court table at Hinata, not having expected this in the slightest. “Wait, ya can cook?”
Hinata blinks, pulling his spoon out of his mouth with an audible pop. “Yeah, of course. I lived on my own for nearly three years.”
Osamu leans back in his chair, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Shouyou-kun, we coulda been cookin’ this whole time.”
Hinata flashes him a grin, his foot nudging Osamu’s under the table. “Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have taken me out to all those restaurants.”
Osamu laughs, nudging him right back. “Coulda been doing both.” He leans forward on his elbows, nodding at Hinata’s bowl of caruru. “Mind if I have a taste.”
He’s pleased when Hinata takes the spoon that had just been in his mouth, scoops up a bit and holds a mouthful out to Osamu. Grinning, he takes the offered spoon, humming in contentment as he chews. Hinata is smiling at him, eyebrows tilted as if to say ‘well?’. Osamu nods. “It’s pretty good. I’d be interested in seeing how ya can do one better though.”
Hinata matches his pose, arms crossed on the table, leaning forward, face only a few inches apart. “If you can show me where I can get my hands on some special ingredients, then I would be happy to cook for you.”
That is exactly what Osamu had been angling for. He grins, holding his hand out for Hinata to shake. “Deal.”
Which is how they find themselves diving through dozens of specialty grocers across Osaka, assembling a little stockpile of ingredients all special for Hinata to cook Brazilian food for Osamu. He keeps them at Onigiri Miya because that seems more neutral than having them at his place, where he might be more inclined to break his and Atsumu’s ‘no funny business’ pact. Besides, maybe Hinata will give him some inspiration to add something new to his menu.
Cooking with Shouyou-kun feels like something out of Osamu’s best, squishiest romantic dreams. Sweater sleeves rolled up showing off tanned forearms corded with muscle, apron tied around his waist, Hinata moves around Onigiri Miya’s prep kitchen with ease. Osamu’s almost embarrassed by how fuckin’ weak-kneed he gets watching Hinata set up his mise-en-place nigh on perfectly.
Best of all is that Hinata is apparently all about liberally taste testing things while he cooks and soliciting Osamu’s opinion — because ‘Osamu-san knows best’. It’s during one of these, Hinata holding out a spoon for Osamu to taste, that a bit gets smeared on the corner of his mouth. Before he can reach up to wipe it away, Hinata’s thumb comes up, swiping at the sauce, before sucking it between his own lips. As if that weren’t hot enough, Hinata has the audacity to stare Osamu in the eye, giving him a measured look. Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Osamu’s got it bad.
Though maybe Hinata does too, because taste testing turns into making a mess, turns into Hinata offering bites of food to Osamu from his fingers. Turns into Osamu holding Hinata’s wrist to give his fingers a nice thorough lick to clean off any imagined stickiness. Turns into Hinata taking that hand and threading it into Osamu’s hair, tugging his face down for a kiss. Turns into Osamu crowding Hinata against the counter, groaning when Hinata licks into his mouth.
They dry hump like a pair of teenagers for a moment before Hinata breaks away, reaches over to turn off the stove and then gives Osamu a heated stare. “Osamu-san, I think I want dessert first.”
It’s absolutely fucking cheesy and Osamu is utterly charmed. He gives Hinata a lazy smile. “My apartment’s upstairs.”
Hinata is as intense and thorough in Osamu’s genkan as he is on the volleyball court. Osamu barely gets the door closed before Hinata shoves him front first into the door from behind, pinning him there. Osamu has no complaints whatsoever, feeling Hinata’s hot little mouth burning at his neck, arms wrapped around Osamu so Hinata’s clever fingers can undo his jeans.
It’s almost charming that after he makes Osamu splash cum onto his own goddamn door, Hinata still thinks they’re just going to go back downstairs to finish cooking. Instead Osamu spins around, rucking Hinata’s shirt off to finally get a nice solid look at all the results of Hinata’s years-long work. It’d be such a shame to not worship his body like it deserves.
So Osamu takes a near painful — based on Hinata’s ragged breathing and whines — amount of time tracing the planes of Hinata’s stomach and thighs with his tongue. Osamu’s never seen such clean, perfect tan lines in his life. He needs to document them thoroughly for jerk off material later. The mewling growl Hinata makes when Osamu finally swallows Hinata down is well worth the scratches his shoulder and back sport for the next few days.
After, when Osamu’s eating the best damned Brazilian food he’s ever had, he has a brief, brief moment of guilt over his little adventure earlier, what with shits still being unresolved with ‘Sumu. But then Hinata hooks his chin on Osamu’s shoulder, breath puffing into his ear making Osamu shiver, asking if Osamu likes it.
His only answer is to dip down and capture Hinata’s mouth with his own, tasting good food and a crush that’s getting out of hand.
Sure, Osamu feels some residual guilt over the next couple of weeks, especially after the first time Hinata held him down, hand pressing Osamu down into his mattress, milking two consecutive orgasms out of him like it wasn’t nothing, before finally deigning to fuck him senseless.
Or the time they went to the movies, like a real ole regular date, sharing a bucket of popcorn between them. Only for Hinata to get distracted part way through the admittedly terrible movie, hands deftly undoing Osamu’s fly and jerking him off left-handed. The theater was blessedly empty, but still! He tried his darndest to keep quiet, head tipping back against the headrest when he finally spilled over Hinata’s hand. Osamu was about to do the polite thing and offer Hinata some napkins, when the extremely hot deviant next to him picked up a piece of popcorn, smeared it with the spunk sitting on his hand, and popped it into his mouth.
Osamu could only watch him open-mouthed, the movie completely forgotten. Hinata chewed thoughtfully. “I think the salt and crunch kinda bring out an interesting flavour.” Hinata picked up another piece of popcorn, doing the same, holding it out to Osamu, eyes glittering mischievously. “Wanna try Osamu-san?”
Osamu did, but only because he’s a smitten idiot. Popcorn does not, in fact, enhance the flavour of his own jizz.
S’all good though, so long as Shouyou-kun is happy, Osamu’s good with whatever.
Atsumu oozes into Onigiri Miya a few weeks later, thoughts of Hinata’s mouth and well-calloused hands from the night before let him bask in that sated smug feeling he loves so much. It’s the sexual equivalent of nailing the perfect service ace and Atsumu is dying to rub it in Osamu’s face.
Only he won’t, because technically he’s not supposed to be doing the do with Shouyou-kun until one of them has won out. Except, obviously he’s won. Duh. Hinata demonstrated as much last night, when he shoved Atsumu’s down into bed and eeked out three orgasms before they collapsed exhausted to sleep.
He wants to brag so fuckin’ baaaad.
But he’s not going to. Nope. Not until Hinata lets Osamu down easy. Atsumu might even be nice about it and give ‘Samu a few days to collect the shambles of his ego and heart before he starts boasting about how goddamn flexible and creative Hinata is. Maybe even like a week, if Atsumu is in a particularly magnanimous mood.
He slides into his usual seat at the front counter, drumming his fingers on the wooden surface, waiting for his brother to emerge from the back. Atsumu has got to play this all casual. No sense letting on what he knows about how Shouyou-kun feels, not yet at least. It’s going to be awkward as hell if Osamu comes out all hopeful and shit about how his ’dates’ with Hinata are going.
God, Atsumu wonders if they’re ever going to be able to look back on this period with any sort of fondness, or like, laugh at it — y’know, long after he and Hinata are married. Atsumu still has trouble bringing up Osamu’s volleyball career even five years later. Atsumu reeeeaaally hopes he’s not going to have to wait that long to tease ‘Samu about his goofy crush on the man of Atsumu’s dreams.
As if summoned by his thoughts, Osamu wanders out of the kitchen, eyeing Atsumu speculatively. “Want your usual?”
Atsumu cracks his knuckles. “‘Course.”
Osamu sets about laying out ingredients, quietly going about his work of slapping together some negitoro for Atsumu. Is it his imagination or is the silence kinda charged right now? Like they’re both waiting for the other to say something. Damn, does ‘Samu know?
“So how’re your extra special volleyball practices goin’?” Osamu asks, starting to shape the onigiri, not looking at Atsumu.
Oh fuck, he definitely knows. Feeling a swell of panic because he’s definitely not emotionally prepared for this conversation this early in the morning, Atsumu tries to shrug nonchalantly. “Pretty good, I guess. How about your ’food journeys’?” Too bad Osamu can’t see his air quotes.
Osamu’s face lights up just a bit, mouth curving at the corners. He looks pleased as punch. Aw hell. “They’re going good, Shouyou-kun’s got quite the appetite.”
And then Osamu does the strangest thing. His hands pause for half a second, his cheeks dusting with the slightest pink, before his hands start moving again, less certain than usual. Atsumu narrows his eyes suspiciously. What the heck was that? Fuck, has Osamu convinced himself he’s in love with Hinata? It’s been like three weeks! Sure, Atsumu has already planned part of their wedding, and has some ideas about a honeymoon Hinata would enjoy — obviously someplace he can play beach volleyball in tiny tiny shorts — but Atsumu wouldn’t say he’s in love-love yet.
Osamu is always so hardcore about things you wouldn’t expect him to be. Feeling a surge of pity, Atsumu leans forward on his elbows. “Yeah, I imagine he’s a big eater. But y’know he’s all about volleyball, right?”
Osamu flicks an annoyed glance up at him. “Sure do. He’s also all about taking care of himself.”
Atsumu nods, brows knitting with sympathy. “Yep. For volleyball.”
“Y’know, kinda like how you’re not gonna be playin’ volleyball until your bones give out in old age, neither is he,” Osamu tells him, finishing up the last onigiri. Atsumu rolls his eyes, this goddamn line again? Osamu is so boring. Atsumu is definitely going to play volleyball till he dies. Just watch him.
Osamu continues, “At least Shouyou-kun understands that there are things that matter outside of volleyball.”
Atsumu scoffs, working up to a vicious retort as Osamu bends forward to hand Atsumu his plate. As he does so, Osamu’s old t-shirt with the stretched collar gapes, giving Atsumu full view of his brother’s chest. He’d think nothing of it, if it weren’t for the fresh bruise sitting inches above Osamu’s left nipple.
Atsumu blinks, reflexively grabbing Osamu’s collar so he can see it better. Osamu grasps his wrist, pulling. “‘Sumu, what the fuck are ya doing?”
Atsumu leans in close, feeling suddenly scandalized on Hinata’s behalf. Ooooh, ‘Samu thinks he’s so fucking cool running around on Hinata like this? The fucker! “I thought ya said ya were only dating Shouyou-kun?”
Osamu’s cheeks colour, finally jerking Atsumu’s hand off his shirt, and leaning back to glare at him. “I am ya bastard!”
“Then why the fuck do you have a goddamn hickey right there?” Atsumu jabs a finger towards Osamu’s left pec.
Offended, Osamu claps a hand to his chest, over the love bite to glare at Atsumu. “Noneya business!”
The indignant rage swells for a moment — because fuck ‘Samu honestly — when a thought occurs to Atsumu. Leaning back into his seat, he tugs at the collar of his sweatshirt, yanking it open to squint down at his own chest. Specifically at the mouth-shaped bruise marring his otherwise flawless right pec. Inches above his nipple. Right where Hinata’s mouth could reach as he fucked Atsumu last night.
Unable to properly articulate his suspicions, especially when Osamu is looking at him like he’s a whole bag of nuts, Atsumu leans forward, pulling his collar down and to the side to show off his own hickey.
Osamu’s lip curls. “Why the fuck are ya showing this to m—” Osamu blinks, lips parted as realization starts to sink in. After a second, Osamu licks his lips, asking in a strangled voice, “‘Sumu, who gave ya that hickey?”
Atsumu lets his collar go, pressing his fingertips against the wood grain of the counter top, lest he throttles Osamu in his own store. “I dunno ‘Samu. Where the fuck didja get yours?”
They stare at each other a beat before both of them are pointing fingers at each other, shouting.
“Ya fuckin’ cheater! Ya said ya weren’t gonna fuck him!” Osamu yells, leaning across the counter to try and grab Atsumu’s shirt.
Atsumu responds in kind, grabbing Osamu’s, trying and failing to reel him in close. “Me! What the fuck aboutcha! I can’t believe ya sit there being a dickhead sayin’ ya won’t cheat and yet here we are!”
“Fuck that! I betcha fucked him first!”
“I probably fuckin’ did! And I bet he liked it better!”
“Fuck you, ya selfish bastard. Betcha he likes me more.”
“As if! Food comas probably make ya lazy as fuck!”
Osamu eventually comes around the counter, the two of them tussling like they haven’t in years. Atsumu manages to rip the collar of Osamu’s old ratty shirt. Osamu has Atsumu’s left ear in a vice, yanking painfully as they continue shouting and swearing at each other. After a moment Osamu’s grip relents.
Startled, Atsumu yanks himself away, rubbing at his smarting ear. “Giving up so easily?”
Osamu looks profoundly concerned. “No, just—” He frowns at Atsumu. “Ain’t it weird that Shouyou-kun is fucking us both? At the same time. Without saying anything.”
Atsumu stares at his brother, his mouth forming a little ‘o’ of surprise. He hadn’t thought of that. It is actually kinda really... weird. Atsumu breathes in sharply. “Do ya think he has a twin fetish?”
Osamu’s eyes widen. “No? Maybe? What the fuck. We should probably talk to him about this, right?”
Atsumu already has his phone out, typing out a text, demanding Hinata come to Onigiri Miya right now. They settle back down on the barstools, Osamu eating one of Atsumu’s negitoro onigiri as they sit in silence. What the hell do you say to your twin when you’re both sleeping with the same person? Atsumu thinks this might be pretty high on his list for the most awkward moments of his life. Based on Osamu’s pained expression, he probably agrees.
Mercifully, Hinata doesn’t make them wait long. Fifteen minutes later he walks into the shop, all bright smiles and “Hey Atsumu-san! Osamu-san!” completely unbothered. He doesn’t look like a filthy philanderer who’s been caught in the act. Oh god, is Shouyou-kun some kinda sex-crazed sociopath?
Hinata must pick something up in their faces, his brows knitting together as his gaze flicks between them. “Are you guys okay?” Or maybe it’s the fact that Osamu’s shirt is ripped and Atsumu’s ear is still red and achy looking.
Osamu heaves a sigh, turning on the barstool to look at Hinata, arms crossed. “Shouyou-kun we gotta talk to ya about—”
“J’accuse!” Atsumu cries, pointing a finger at a visibly startled Hinata, behind him Osamu sighs.
“What?” Hinata just looks flabbergasted.
“Why the fuck are ya fuckin’ both of us at the same time! Ya got a weird pervy twin kink? Huh!?” Atsumu tends to run extremely hot when emotions are high and he really can’t help it. Maybe standing up and jabbing a finger in Hinata’s direction isn’t the best move though, Osamu comes up behind him to rest a hand on his shoulder.
“What ‘Sumu is trying to say is, we’re a little bit confused is all.”
Hinata looks equally confused staring back at them. He cocks his head to the side. “I thought you both knew I was dating both of you?”
Atsumu’s hands fly up into the air, frustrated.
Osamu nods. “Yeah, we do know that.”
Hinata still looks puzzled though. “Ooookaaaay...” He shifts his weight, searching their faces for something. “I don’t understand what the confusion is.”
“Don’tcha think it’s weird that you’re doin’ both of us!” Atsumu bites out.
“No? Weren’t you fine with me dating both of you at the same time?” Hinata crosses his arms, waiting for their answer.
“Well...” Atsumu doesn’t know where to begin.
“This feels different.” Osamu explains. “Like ya were trying to hide it from us or something.”
Hinata’s lips part, before his brow twitches downwards, looking annoyed. “Don’t you guys hang out all the time?”
Atsumu and Osamu exchange a look. Atsumu shrugs. “Yeah, and?”
“And don’t you guys talk to each other?” Hinata tries.
They exchange another glance before Osamu shrugs. “Not really. Not about dating stuff.”
Hinata just seems more annoyed. “Then what on earth do you two talk about then?”
Atsumu purses his lips, thinking about it. “Mostly volleyball and food.”
Osamu nods. “And makin’ fun of each other.”
Across from them, Hinata’s lips press into a line, looking like he’s trying very hard to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. “So what exactly do you want from me here?”
Atsumu exchanges another glance with Osamu. Some of that telepathic twin connection must be working, because he’s pretty sure he knows exactly what they both want. Atsumu lifts his chin to stare defiantly at Hinata. “Choose.”
Hinata stares at them, eyes not blinking in that strangely intense way he sometimes gets on the volleyball court. Y’know, the one that makes Atsumu’s stomach do all sorts of funny things. “Choose?” Hinata repeats.
Atsumu swallows, feeling his cheeks flush. Lucky Osamu is slightly less affected, shoulders set, he nods. “Yeah, ya gotta pick: Me or ‘Sumu.”
The silence lasts seconds but feels like an eternity. Atsumu suddenly regrets this whole interaction a whole fucking lot. Either he gets picked and gets to watch his brother get crushed, or he watches his brother get picked and feels his heart turn to dust. All with creepy-hot predator Hinata watching them.
Hinata’s face abruptly brightens and he gives them a toothy, eye-crinkling smile. “No.”
Atsumu and Osamu simultaneously wheeze out a breath, staring at Hinata incredulously. “Whaddya mean ‘no’?” Osamu asks.
Hinata rocks back and forth on his toes, arms swinging loosely at his side, smiling at them. “I’m not going to choose.”
Atsumu frowns. “Then what the fuck are we supposed to do?”
Hinata takes a step closer, still all smiles — such that it’s starting to get a liiiiittle creepy. “You two are brothers.” He takes another step closer, zeroing in on Osamu. Atsumu feels his stomach twist with jealousy. Hinata raises a hand to loop behind Osamu’s neck, but he flicks a hooded gaze at Atsumu. “And I think you two should just learn to share.”
With that Hinata turns, tugging Osamu down all the way, giving him one of the filthiest kisses Atsumu’s ever seen in person. All open-mouthed tongues and teeth and sticky wet sounds that has Atsumu blanking out for a second.
Because it is very hot. But in like a ‘I should find this gross and I don’t and it’s doin’ me a concern’ kinda way. Atsumu has the vague thought that maybe he should invest in ceiling mirrors so he can watch for more angles when Hinata does shit like this to him.
They break apart, Osamu looking absolutely floored, a chain of spit breaking as Hinata releases him. And then Hinata turns to Atsumu, a protest dying on his lips, as Hinata — without even wiping his goddamn mouth from Osamu’s spit — pulls Atsumu down for a toe-curling kiss. Hinata basically plunders his mouth, taking what he wants as Atsumu dazedly tries his hardest to keep up. He has the faintest taste of negitoro on his tongue and Atsumu wonders if that must be from Osamu, which is weird as fu—
Hinata pulls away, leaving Atsumu standing next to his thoroughly kissed brother, staring at Hinata like they’ve both been run over by a truck. Hinata gives them a little wave, lips still wet from the combined spit from Atsumu and Osamu’s mouths. “Welp, I’m meeting Bokuto-san and some friends for Shabu-Shabu, so I’ll see you guys later.”
With that Hinata turns on his heel and exits the store, leaving Atsumu and Osamu to sort through whatever the fuck just happened. They stare at the sliding door long after Hinata’s departed, neither able to form words properly yet.
After what feels like an eternity, Atsumu breaks the silence. “He kissed me way better.”
Osamu slides him an annoyed look. “Oh fuck off.”
“Maybe I’ll do that with Shouyou-kun later.” Atsumu sneers at him, yelping when Osamu pulls him into a headlock to fuck up his hair.
Guess they're both dating Shouyou-kun then, huh? Whatever it meant, Atsumu was excited to find out.