Chapter Text
Sakusa revels in the way the sun’s rays beat down on them as they walk the park path. It’s a path he knows well, one Atsumu knows even better; it’s a path that leads to the most beautiful destination in the world, a destination with so much history. The intensity of the summer heat—something that would normally make Sakusa crinkle his nose and insist on staying inside—doesn’t deter him now. No, he relishes in the way his skin feels the tingle of a burn coming on, relishes in the way the sweat prickles under his jeans and tshirt. He relishes in how warm he feels, from the inside out, encircled and completely surrounded by it. A breeze catches in the tall grasses, bending the colorful flowers that fill the meadows on either side of them. Sakusa can see the way it rustles the trees, leaves shaking enthusiastically. Some of the trees have fruit that is near ready to harvest, hanging low and tempting for passersby, and he watches as Atsumu picks a plum and adds it to the picnic basket in his arms. He looks so much like he did a few years ago, leading them down this same path to a moment of true happiness.
**
4 years earlier
Atsumu is in a rush today. Or that’s what it seems like, anyway, by the way he walks ahead of Sakusa. He has a picnic basket balanced in the crook of his elbow, his other hand picking a low-hanging plum as he passes a tree and places it in the basket. He looks radiant, golden under the rays of the summer sun, but he also looks on edge. Maybe a bit wound up? Sakusa can’t be sure, can only see that something is off. If the tenseness in Atsumu’s shoulders wasn’t enough of a clue, the fact he has pulled ahead of Sakusa instead of walking beside him is certainly a dead giveaway. He’s used to seeing the excitement and enthusiasm plastered on Atsumu’s face like this, used to it having an effect on him. But after a year together, they had come to a point where it was no longer Atsumu rushing ahead or Sakusa lagging behind, instead the two of them finding and keeping a perfect balance. It’s rare that Atsumu pulls ahead like this, not unless there’s something up.
“What has gotten into you today?” Sakusa calls out. Atsumu isn’t too far ahead of him, but far enough that he’d have to jog to catch up. All of the worry slips away when Atsumu turns back to him, hair blowing in his face as a breeze catches it, smile gleaming and spread across his tanned skin. It’s like Atsumu is the sun and Sakusa is caught in his gravitational pull, orbiting and revolving completely around him. He is the center of Sakusa’s entire existence.
“I don’t know what ya mean, Omi,” Atsumu replies, standing still so that Sakusa can catch up. They tangle their fingers together out of habit, hands pressed tightly against one another as they try to imbue the motion with all the love they possibly can. Atsumu is practically vibrating with excitement—or maybe it’s nervousness—as they continue down the path and the old homesite comes into view.
It’s still just as tucked away and unnoticeable as it always is, the earth trying to reclaim the spot in the name of Mother Nature. Still, those stairs and the singular light post sticking out from behind trees gives it away, showing the way. Just as it had lit the way home for that family so many years ago, it now lights the way home for them. Home. It’s such a strange topic, something that surprises Sakusa each time he remembers he has one. Not just a house, but a home. A place he feels welcomed. A place he feels loved. A place filled with laughter, filled with art and music and creativity. A place filled with hopes and dreams and inspiration. And that place is by Atsumu’s side. He squeezes their hands together as they find their familiar square of grass near the cornerstone, breaking their connection point only to set their picnic up. First the blanket, which they plop onto in a less-than-graceful way. Next are the plates, utensils, and wine glasses that had been packed away with great care. Then the fresh sesame and miso butter cookies that Yumiko had insisted they bring, the sandwiches and the crackers and the cheese. Then the wine, a higher end bottle from what Sakusa can tell, not the usual sake they bring on trips like these. Last is the plum that Atsumu had picked fresh from the tree; he offers it to Sakusa, who wrinkles his nose at the unwashed fruit, the expression earning a laugh from his boyfriend. Atsumu proceeds to take a big bite from the fruit, sucking at the juice that dribbles on his face, and Sakusa jokingly turns his nose up at the action.
“I’m definitely not kissing you now,” he mutters, and Atsumu laughs again, his eyes twinkling and mouth wide with a grin. And then that grin turns up at the edges, a sign Atsumu is planning something devious. Sakusa sees it but isn’t quite fast enough. Quick as a flash, Atsumu has leaned forward, chasing after the now retreating form of Sakusa, who is desperately trying to retreat. Atsumu captures one of his arms but fails to get the other one secured, and Sakusa tries to break free by rolling his body away. Instead, it just brings Atsumu along, the two of them rolling off the blanket and across the grass until they finally come to a stop, Atsumu lying on top of Sakusa. Effectively pinned, Atsumu smiles wide again and plants a wet kiss on Sakusa’s lips. Atsumu’s lips are sticky from the juice of the plum, sweet and soft as they press against Sakusa’s lips again and again. When he finally pulls up for breath, his eyes seem hazy yet focused on the blushing form of Sakusa below him.
“Marry me,” he murmurs. His words are soft, melodic even, as his fingers twirl one of Sakusa’s curls around his finger. There is a beat of silence, the only sound coming from the rustle of leaves and their own breathing, and Sakusa’s eyes widen. Atsumu sees the reaction, pulling away from their position on the ground. “Shit, shit, shit. Ignore that.” He fumbles for a moment before dragging Sakusa up, pulling him until they’re both standing on the stairs of the homesite with the lamppost just behind Sakusa’s back. They stand there for a long moment, staring at one another, and then Atsumu pulls a ring box from his pocket and drops to one knee. Oh. Atsumu’s mouth opens to speak, but Sakusa doesn’t let him, yanking the blonde up until he can kiss him fully and properly. Little murmurs of ‘yes, yes, yes’ escape between their kisses, the two of them laughing. Laughing and so in love, the way they want to always be.
**
Just as it had the first time Sakusa and Atsumu took this trip, the path crests on the small hill with the beautiful trees and wildlife bustling below. The first time they had made this trip, it had been autumn and the trees were a kaleidoscope of colors. Now, though, in the heat of the summer, everything around them is shades of green. It’s still just as breathtaking, though, the way the leaves of each plant stretch toward the light of the sun, expanding and rising to their fullest potential. The homesite is just out of view, hidden by a few trees and bushes that have grown a bit wild throughout the years, but it is undoubtedly there waiting for them.
“I don’t see it, Papa,” whines a small voice, and Sakusa watches as Atsumu bends down to their child’s eye level.
“I know, my little summer, I know. But look,” Atsumu points to the big tree that hides the lamppost behind it. “Ya see that big ole tree there?” Sakusa can see the way black curls bob wildly with the motion of her nodding her head. “It’s just past there, I promise. How about I give ya a piggyback ride and we can run there real fast?” He watches as Atsumu picks the little girl up, instructs her to hold on tight, and runs down the hill. Squeals of joy and laughter fill the air as they run, disappearing behind the big tree from the continued momentum of Atsumu’s run. Sakusa only just starts to follow them as their faces break through the layers of green.
“C’mon, Daddy, we can’t do it without ya!”
**
3 years earlier
“Are you sure you want me in these pictures, Kiyo?” Misaki stares at her brother with wide eyes, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as she does. A bit of the lipstick she had applied for the photo shoot smudges at the motion but not enough to need fixing. Atsumu turns toward them before either can reply, his arms cradling the sleeping baby.
“I swear to god if ya don’t stop with the worrying, Misaki. O’course we want ya in these pictures, we couldn’t have done this without ya.” And it’s true, Atsumu and Sakusa couldn’t have done this without her, not with the way the laws are written. If it were up to the Japanese government, the two of them wouldn’t have any children at all. With them now both signed onto the MSBY Black Jackals out of Osaka, they at least live in a city that allows them to be foster parents. And that’s still an avenue they want to pursue, still want to open their house and hearts up to children who need it. But Misaki had made a generous offer, mostly in jest, and the two men leapt at the possible opportunity. And it had paid off. “C’mon, this photographer charges by the hour and Miss Fussy Pants isn’t gonna be sleepin’ for much longer.”
They get back into place on the stairs of the old homesite, Misaki sitting behind them as Atsumu and Sakusa hold their daughter between them. She’s beautiful, her pale skin wrinkly like newborns often are, a headband decorated with sunflowers and marigolds placed around her head. She already has a head full of hair, inky black like Sakusa and Misaki have, and Atsumu wonders if it’ll be curly like theirs or if it’ll end up being the soft barely-there waves that he has. With Misaki as their surrogate, she could look like an unending combination of the two of them. Honey brown eyes or dark brown with flecks of green hidden in their depths. The obnoxiously long lashes of Atsumu or the endlessly thick lashes of Sakusa. The straight, noble nose of the Sakusas or the perfectly sloped button nose of the Miyas. The possibilities are endless for their little one.
A week after the photo session is over and the photographer gets all of the edits back to them, they share their favorites through their social media, introducing the light of their life to the world. Neither Atsumu or Sakusa are surprised to be the front page news the following day.
>MSBY Black Jackals players Miya Atsumu and Sakusa Kiyoomi shock the world by announcing the birth of their daughter, Miya Natsuki
**
Both Atsumu and Natsuki are practically vibrating with excitement when Sakusa finally joins them. Instead of their usual perch near the cornerstone, the two men set up on the ground near the stairs. It provides them flatter and firmer ground, more space for the three of them to stretch out and for Natsuki to run around without fear of injury. And set up they do, stretching the oversized blanket out on the ground, spreading all the food out around them. Sakusa watches as Natsuki giggles at the silly faces Atsumu makes at her, Atsumu turning briefly to find Sakusa’s constant smile and smiling back. It’s times like these that Sakusa never wants to let go, never wants to lose this feeling of home that has planted itself in his chest. Halfway through their sandwiches, Atsumu starts telling their daughter the story of the man who had built this place. It isn’t the first time he’s shared this story with her, but it’s the first time she’s really seemed to understand it. Her golden eyes widen, hooked on every word. Some jam from her sandwich is stuck on the corner of her mouth, and Sakusa wipes it away like the doting father he is.
“Now, my little summer, do ya wanna see something real special about this place?” Atsumu asks, voice a low whisper like it’s a secret, and Natsuki nods furiously. She looks so much like Atsumu, with her sloped nose and long lashes and honey brown eyes. But Sakusa can see bits of himself there, too. The dark curls, the shape of her brows, the little mole there on her cheek. A combination of them.
They make their way to that little cornerstone that he and Atsumu know so well, and Atsumu creates a vibrant story about the marks on the brick, how they’re special, about how only people that the universe really, really loves can put their names and tallies there. Natsuki’s hands touch the tallies Atsumu has made over the years, her mouth opening in a tiny o at them before moving on to Sakusa’s tallies. Atsumu turns it into a counting game with her, the two of them giggling as she stumbles her way through her numbers. When they count the twenty five tallies under each set of initials, Atsumu pulls the small pocket knife out. Natsuki gives a little head shake, repeating how it’s ‘sharp’ and ‘will hurt her’. Both warnings they have made when teaching her not to touch things like knives.
“Shh, it’s okay, Suki,” Sakusa says, gently grabbing the top of her hand. “Papa and Daddy are going to help.” And they do, Atsumu holding the bottom of Natsuki’s hand and Sakusa the top, their sturdy hands guiding hers as they carve three tally marks below her initials. Atsumu blows away the bit of dust from the brick, and Sakusa exclaims, “there, it’s done.” All three of them stare at the brick. A family. A home. An unending connection. It’s all Sakusa has ever wanted.
And it is proof that the universe does listen, that even in the worst of times, the universe does really love you. No matter the flaws, no matter the hurt, you always belong somewhere.