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There’s a baby on Atsumu’s doorstep. There’s a baby on Atsumu’s doorstep. There’s a baby on Atsumu’s doorstep.
Atsumu blinks down at it. It blinks back.
“What the fuck?” He asks the baby.
The baby, unsurprisingly, doesn’t have an answer.
“Do you know what to do with a baby?” Atsumu asks into his phone roughly an hour and a half and two incredibly unhelpful calls to his brother later. The first time Osamu had laughed so loud and for so long that Atsumu had hung up on him. The second time hadn’t gone much better.
“Why would you think I know anything about babies?” Sakusa asks and his tone doesn’t necessarily change from it’s normal vaguely annoyed vibe but Atsumu is convinced he sounds baffled somehow.
“I don’t know, ya seem like you’d know a lot about a lot of stuff.” Atsumu shrugs, even if Sakusa can’t see it through the phone. The baby is asleep, which is good, because it’d been giving him some extremely judgemental looks that reminded him far too much of Osamu before that. “Do you think babies are supposed to be able to look judgemental?”
“I think single celled organisms could pass judgement on you,” Sakusa says, which is not helpful but does somehow provide a much needed sense of normalcy during what is very much the least normal afternoon of Atsumu’s life. “Why are you asking me about babies? ...Wait, is someone letting you spend time with a baby? Have they met you?”
“This sounds like an aspersion against my character and I won’t stand for it, asshole.”
Atsumu will not stand for anything right now, actually. He’s been on the floor since he’d seen his name on the birth certificate included in the folder of papers that came with the baby. He’s maybe having a little bit of a panic attack. He thinks that might be what this is. It’s either that or a heart attack, and he’s an olympic medaling athlete in more or less perfect health aside from the interesting clicky thing his shoulder started doing after a pretty bad fall during a recent game, so he’s pretty sure it’s not a heart attack.
“How did you end up with a baby?” Sakusa asks, incredulous, reading Atsumu’s non answer for exactly what it is. Well, maybe not EXACTLY. He can’t imagine Sakusa is aware of the sitting on the floor thing. He’d probably be horrified if he knew that part.
“Well Omi-Omi, this might be shockin’ for ya to learn, but when a man meets a woman-”
“Atsumu.”
“Okay, okay. Remember that girl I was dating, like, a year- a little more than a year-ish ago? Right before the Olympics.”
“Ah, yes, the one you dumped so that you could fuck half the Olympic village.”
Atsumu winces a little at the very clear judgement there, because okay, yeah, that hadn’t been his finest moment. In his defense, it was the Olympic village.
“Well I guess I knocked her up, at least judgin’ by the baby she left on my doorstep. Actually though, I think I made a good call breakin’ up with her considering she left a baby on my doorstep.”
“Shit,” Sakusa says, with something actually resembling feeling.
“Yeah,” Atsumu says, dropping his head into his hands, “ Yeah.”
Atsumu hadn’t really expected Sakusa to help is the thing. Mostly he’d intended to work his way through his contacts list until he got to someone who felt sorry enough to help him, or at least to listen to him freak out without laughing hysterically at him about it. The fact that Sakusa is that person is, frankly, a shock, but he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Especially when that gift horse has shown up at his apartment and apparently knows what to do with a baby.
“No offense, but this is literally the last thing I ever thought I’d see ya do,” Atsumu says watching Sakusa pick the baby up voluntarily and hold it. He’s tempted to take a photo to document this momentous occasion, but also the baby had been shrieking like some sort of demon until Sakusa picked it up and Atsumu is a little afraid that if he tries to take a picture Sakusa will put the baby down and what the hell is he supposed to do if that happens?
“I have a niece and a nephew, idiot.” Sakusa’s judgement might sting, but not nearly as much as the sound of a tiny infant shrieking had, “You’ve met them.”
“I meet a lot of people,” Atsumu says, though he can kind of vaguely recall two little kids hanging off of what he’s pretty sure was Sakusa’s sister during the Olympics. He’d been slightly too distracted by an Argentinian rugby player who looked like he could bench press Atsumu to pay much attention.
“Well you’re about to meet a lot less people,” Sakusa says, seemingly okay with the fact that an undoubtedly germy infant hand is patting at his mask like it’s some sort of game. At the very least the half of his face that Atsumu can see doesn’t look any different than it normally does. “Unless you’re planning to drop the kid off at a fire department or something.”
“Um, no? What the fuck kinda person do ya think I am?” He raises a hand before Sakusa can say anything, “Don’t answer that. Of course I’m not gonna drop her off at a fire department, asshole.”
“Did she come with formula?” Sakusa asks, veering the conversation suddenly off course.
“Uh, yeah? There’s a bag with diapers and formula and all that stuff,” Atsumu says, waving vaguely towards the genkan where he’d dropped the bag in his shocked stupor earlier. “Oh god I need to go shopping for more of that, don’t I? And a place for her to sleep? A crib? I can’t just chuck her on the couch to sleep, can I?”
“I don’t think the mommy blogs you’re probably going to get very acquainted with would recommend it,” Sakusa says and Atsumu tips his head back and groans at the unfairness of the universe.
When he lifts his head up it’s to jab a finger at the baby- his baby- his daughter- whatever- and tell her, “You’re lucky you’re kinda cute.”
“She must take after her mother,” Sakusa says dryly.
“Fuck you, I’m adorable.”
Later, much later than Atsumu expected honestly, after Atsumu has spiraled through roughly 27 different emotions- many of them some shade of terror, made his way through 2 and a half panic attacks, and had a fit of histrionics while adding things to his online shopping cart and getting charged an arm and a leg for rush delivery, Sakusa gets up to leave .
“Wait, ya can’t leave me alone with her! What am I supposed to do?” Atsumu holds the baby up to illustrate this point, and also, in the hopes that her sheer cuteness will sway Sakusa into staying and- fuck- what? Staying and doing what? Becoming Atsumu’s live-in nanny?
“I can and I will,” Sakusa says, putting his shoes on and then using a liberal amount of hand sanitizer after, “Despite what you might believe, I do actually have a life outside of the Jackals.”
“You’re right. I don’t believe that. I’ve always assumed ya just plug into an outlet and go into sleep mode between practices and games.”
“You’re not funny,” Sakusa tells him.
“Fuck you, I’m hilarious.” Atsumu looks to the baby, “Aren’t I?”
The baby blows a spit bubble.
“See, she agrees with me,” Atsumu says, smug.
“Good. She can agree with you when I’m gone too,” Sakusa says, and then, with an awkward pat to the top of the baby’s head and a “See you at practice tomorrow,” he leaves.
“What an asshole,” Atsumu tells the baby.
The baby pats his face and makes a series of weird baby noises in what Atsumu decides is definitely commiseration.
Atsumu might seem like a pretty chill dude (a statement that Osamu has laughed his ass off at many many times when Atsumu has made the mistake of saying it out loud) but despite this he’s never been what anyone would call great with change. For instance, the day that Atsumu and Osamu moved into separate apartments had involved Atsumu hiding in the bathroom to have a panic attack no less than three times. Or the minor (major) meltdown he’d had when Osamu told him he was quitting volleyball. Or the temper tantrum his mother insists he threw at age eight when they put him and Osamu in different classes at school.
So, whatever , he’s not great with life throwing wrenches in his plans. He would like to find a single person who is, because he doubts they exist.
The baby is, metaphorically and in every other way that matters, a pretty fucking huge wrench. But it turns out, Atsumu discovers as he loads himself up with all the many many things a small infant needs for hours away from home and drags the kid to practice, that one cannot lock yourself in your bathroom and have an eighteen year panic attack when one has a baby. And also a job.
He’s like, 99% sure that even google would tell him that.
“Hey! Tsum-Tsum! What’s with the baby at practice?” Bokuto booms, leaning forward to peer into the carrier mere moments after he arrives in a flurry of chaotic hey hey hey s. The baby seems amused at least, reaching slobbery hands out to Bokuto who gleefully takes one tiny slobbery hand and pretends to eat it.
Disgusting. Atsumu is maybe starting to understand where Sakusa is coming from on the whole germs thing. That can’t be sanitary. Bokuto has no idea where that hand has been.
“It turns out less than twenty-four hour notice isn’t enough time for me to figure out how daycare works. She should learn to love volleyball anyway.” God knows it’s going to be around enough. Atsumu had definitely not spent hours last night working through his panic about sudden fatherhood by ordering way too many tacky volleyball themed baby onesies off of weird websites on the internet. (He absolutely did. What was he supposed to do, not order a onesie that came with leg warmers with volleyballs printed on them?)
“Woah , where’d the baby come from?” Shouyou asks, craning around Bokuto to get a look at the same time Sakusa joins them.
Sakusa pats the top of the baby’s head awkwardly with one weird boney hand and says “Naoko-chan,” like he’s greeting a colleague and not a four month old infant.
“I see how it is. You say hi to my baby before me? I guess our friendship means nothin’ to you.” Atsumu says mournfully, ignoring the sudden quiet from the two normally loud as hell idiots next to him.
“That’s because we’re not friends,” Sakusa says and Atsumu clutches his chest like he’s just been shot.
“So mean Omi-Omi. So cruel .”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Bokotu interrupts, rubbing at his ears furiously and tipping his head sideways, knocking on it like he’s trying to shake something out of it. “My hearing must be fu-” He cuts off and looks guiltily at the baby, “-messed up, because I thought you just said that’s your baby.”
“Yep.”
“Wait. What.”
“It’s true,” Sakusa says, and Bokuto and Shouyou swing incredulous gazes on him. It’s one thing for Atsumu to create some stupid prank about having a baby, but Sakusa would never be in on it. For the most part they’re all half convinced that Sakusa hasn’t ever joked even once in his life. “He has, unfortunately, procreated.”
“Unfortunately? Unfortunately? I’ll have you know that my genetics are golden. Absolutely fuckin’ golden.”
Bokuto looks between the baby and Atsumu, the baby, and Atsumu, and then back again. Then, he pulls out his phone, says “Excuse me, I have to make a call,” and walks off, wailing a distraught “AKAASHI!!!!” into his phone.
“Rough break, buddy!” Shouyou calls after him sympathetically. Bokuto’s baby fever and desire to have a tiny horde of children to be tiny MSBY mascots is a well known fact to the team at this point. Akaashi’s ten year plan and apparent overthinking about the logistics of children, however, is also a well known fact to the team at this point.
Clearly Bokuto is not handling the fact that Atsumu got their new baby mascot before Bokuto managed it very well.
Atsumu might feel more sympathetic if he didn’t have an infant thrust at him twenty-four hours earlier. Also, maybe, if he was slightly better of a person.
After that, practice goes surprisingly well. Naoko falls asleep part way through and when she wakes up again, fussing, Bokuto elbows everyone else out of the way to scoop her into his arms and feed her a bottle.
Atsumu takes a picture and sends it to Bokuto so that he can use it in his ever growing quest to convince Akaashi to abandon his ten year plan. He’s pretty sure this makes him a spectacularly great friend.
If this is what parenting is going to be like then he can do this.
He can totally do this.
He can’t do this.
“The baby is sick.” Atsumu says the second the line connects.
“And you’re calling me about this why?” Sakusa’s tired voice comes from the other side of the phone.
“Because, Omi-Omi, you’re the only person I know who’s usually awake at 3 am,” Atsumu says with absolutely zero shame. Osamu would kill him if he called him at this time of night and Atsumu can’t wake his mom up at 3 am. That’s his mom. She deserves all the sleep she can get now that Atsumu and his brother are grown and aren’t terrorizing her house.
“What’s wrong with her?” Sakusa asks and Atsumu mentally does a victory cheer because he’s got him.
“She has a fever,” Atsumu says pitifully, only half hamming up how upset he is about it, “And she wouldn’t stop fussing. She tuckered herself out finally, I think,” He adds, glancing at the fitfully sleeping Naoko, “But I don’t think that’s going to last long.”
Sakusa sighs the sigh of one who is deeply suffering due to Atsumu’s bullshit and Atsumu doesn’t feel even a little guilty considering he’s the one worrying himself to death over a sick infant right now.
“Alright,” Sakusa says, “I’ll come over.”
“What,” Atsumu squawks. He hadn’t expected Sakusa to come over. He’d expected to whine about his unfortunate fate as a way to deal with the sinking pit of anxiety he feels every time Naoko sniffles until Sakusa got sick of his shit and hung up on him. That’s their dynamic! Atsumu annoys Sakusa and Sakusa is annoyed and resigned to it. At least he thought that was their dynamic.
“You heard me, idiot. I’ll be there in twenty,” Sakusa says over the sudden screeching of Naoko, apparently very much awake and not happy about it.
Which is how Atsumu ends up completely baffled a mere 30 minutes later by the sight of Sakusa using a squishy rubber bulb syringe to literally suck the snot out of Naoko’s nose and firmly, yet gently telling the infant “Don’t cry, Naoko-chan, this will make you feel better.”
Gentle is not a word Atsumu ever thought would be applicable to Sakusa Kiyoomi and yet, here he is, apparently turned into a teddy bear by the presence of a five month old.
Even more baffling is that it seems to work. As soon as Sakusa’s done torturing the poor kid with the bulb syringe, and has her cradled against his chest with one freaky hand supporting her head Naoko falls silent.
“How the hell are ya some sort of baby wizard? I don’t get how ya manage to get her to stop crying.” Atsumu says, flopping onto his couch and watching Sakusa with his kid. “Also, aren’t ya freakishly adverse to germs and dirt and bodily fluids and basically everything that makes up a small child.”
“It’s a baby,” Sakusa says with a shrug like that’s reason enough for him to not be neurotic about baby germs. “And she cries with you because you’re wound up.”
“What.” Atsumu’s voice is flat, maybe, possibly, a little offended by the implication that the fact that his own daughter seems to like him less than Sakusa is his fault.
“You’re anxious, understandably so because you’re an idiot and have no idea what you’re doing, but babies can tell. Of course she’s not going to trust you if you’re having a fit every time you have anything to do with her.”
Atsumu narrows his eyes at Sakusa, taking in the way he pats Naoko’s head as he speaks and the distinct lack of total annoyance in his eyes above his mask. Sure there’s definite annoyance there, seemingly aimed at Atsumu, but it’s less .
“You like my baby,” Atsumu says, jabbing a finger at Sakusa, “Who are you and what have you done with the real, neurotic, germaphobic, freaky limbed, asshole Sakusa Kiyoomi?”
“Okay, I’m leaving now,” Sakusa says, dumping Naoko into Atsumu’s shocked embrace and turning to leave.
Naoko stares up at Atsumu. Atsumu stares back. Naoko’s face scrunches up in the warning for a meltdown.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Atsumu begs, chasing after Sakusa. “I take it back!”
“Okay,” Sakusa says simply and turns back around.
“You’re gonna give me a fuckin’ heart attack, abandonin’ me in my hour of need,” Atsumu says and ignores Sakusa rolling his eyes at Atsumu’s dramatics.
And then, before Atsumu can continue hamming it up or Sakusa can respond with something that will definitely be scathing, Naoko’s previously foretold meltdown occurs as she begins to shriek her little lungs out.
Atsumu wakes up to the morning sun bright in his eyes and the sound of someone moving around his kitchen.
He bolts upright, only tripping over his own feet and falling off his living room couch a little in his half asleep state , and casts a frantic look around for Naoko.
And then he hears it, the sound of running water in his kitchen and a quiet, familiar voice. The previous night rushes back- Sakusa showing up and helping, Naoko feverish and sniffling, her falling into a fitful sleep that ended abruptly everytime Atsumu or Sakusa attempted to put her down in her crib, and finally, Atsumu dozing off in the early hours of the morning with Naoko asleep on his chest to the sound of Sakusa’s low voice informing him of exactly what the losing team was doing wrong on the volleyball game they’d turned on for background noise.
He stops in the doorway to his kitchen, watching Sakusa wash his dishes as he speaks lowly to Naoko where she’s sat in her little bouncer seat. Naoko’s cheeks are no longer bright red and ruddy, her dark eyes- Atsumu’s eyes, and boy is that fucking weird to realize that someone else has Atsumu’s eyes- calmly fixed on Sakusa as she chews on her own hand.
Sakusa, who is wearing the ridiculous rubber novelty dishwashing gloves that Osamu gave to Atsumu as a joke and telling Naoko all about the proper way to wash dishes.
“Those dishes weren’t dirty,” Atsumu says finally, leaning against the doorway.
“Sorry if I don’t have faith in the ability of a man who couldn’t grasp the basics of contraceptives,” Sakusa says, reminding Atsumu that despite Sakusa’s surprising helpfulness in his hour of need he’s actually a giant asshole.
Atsumu, because he’s the better person here, graciously ignores that to cross the room and scoop up his child. “Is Omi-Omi torturing you with cleaning instructions, huh?” Atsumu asks and earns a slobbery thwap to the face as Naoko makes unintelligible baby sounds in response. “I’ll take that as a no then. What a betrayal. My own flesh and blood siding with the enemy.”
“It’s not her fault she has better taste than you,” Sakusa says, shutting off the water and stripping out of his stolen gloves.
“I have great taste, thank you very much.”
“The mother of your child literally left your baby on your doorstep, I think your taste might be suspect.”
“Okay, fair, but the kid’s cute so it worked out.”
Sakusa lets out a little hum and ruffles Naoko’s (very little) hair, which Atsumu decides to take as an agreement with his very valid point.
Technically, Atsumu is at Onigiri Miya to help his twin brother prepare for the day because one of his prep guys called out.
Realistically, Atsumu is at Onigiri Miya to be made fun of by his twin brother for everything in his life, up to and including the fact that Atsumu is raising an infant with the surprising help of his volleyball teammate.
“Wait, didn’t ya have like, a massive crush on him in highschool,” Osamu, the traitor, the villain, the lesser twin, says and Atsumu lets out a distressed noise and only resists the urge to knock over the entire tray of onigiri Osamu’s working on because he’s a father now. He’s pretty sure that means he’s supposed to be more respectable than starting a brawl with his brother in a restaurant.
“I did not!” Atsumu argues and shoves Osamu, because father or not, retaliation of some sort is necessary. He has to teach his child the value of standing up for herself, afterall.
“I think ya did. I remember ya bein very concerned about your hair every day of that stupid training camp ya both went to. Ya also waxed poetic about his wrists and ‘the perfect twin beauty marks that adorn his visage, the likes of which no art could compare.’” The last bit, Osamu does in a horrifying breathy voice that makes Atsumu want to strangle him.
“One, I never said that, especially not like that, and two, I’m gonna murder ya. I’m gonna murder ya, Samu and no one, not even Ma will find your body.”
“Promises, promises,” Osamu waves it away, apparently in too good a mood over Atsumu’s mortification to threaten him back. Becoming an uncle has made him soft.
“I don’t have to put up with this,” Atsumu grumbles, stepping away from the onigiri, “I'm going home.”
“Hey now, let’s not be hasty!”
“No, no. I should go. I’m pretty sure this isn’t even food safe,” Atsumu says just to make Osamu squirm, gesturing to Naoko in her stroller, playing with her little cube toy that according to the packaging is a sensory toy and good for her development. Atsumu cares about her development, sure, but mostly he cares that it keeps her entertained for far longer than he’d expected a crinkly cube with a bunch of doodads on it to and he doesn’t even have to deal with the judgement the mommy bloggers would heap upon him if he set her in front of the tv.
“I swear to god Atsumu, if you leave me to do this by myself I’ll-”
“Alright, alright. Don’t get yer panties in a bunch. I’ll stay, but-”
“Oh god, what now?”
“You have to babysit Nao-chan for me whenever I decide I need it.”
“No,” Osamu says immediately.
“Three times!”
“Once.”
“Twice.”
“Fine. Whatever. Just get back to work.”
“Such a cruel business owner. This is abuse. I’m a martyr, sufferin’ for the Onigiri Miya cause.”
“I take it back. You can leave.”
“Too late. I’m not backing out of something that gets me free babysitting.”
“I should’ve eaten you in the womb.”
“You’re so lucky to be an only child,” Atsumu tells Naoko solemnly. Naoko waves her crinkle cube at him and says “ba!” in what Atsumu decides is an agreement.
“You look very sharp today, Nao-chan,” Atsumu tells his tiny (but rapidly growing, much to Atsumu’s dismay) child. “We’ll have to thank Bokuto-san for the jersey now won’t we?”
The jersey being the teeny tiny MSBY jersey that Bokuto had thrust at Atsumu at last practice. It even has “MIYA” written across it in bold letters.
It’s the cutest thing Atsumu has seen in a while. Possibly ever.
“Okay, pose for a picture,” Atsumu instructs, pulling out his phone to get a very adorable picture of his very adorable eight month old daughter in her very adorable jersey and very adorable black and gold polka-dot tutu.
“Bah!” Nao-chan says, in what Atsumu will be taking as agreement, thank you very much. His daughter is very smart. Much smarter than he and Osamu were at her age, he’s sure of it.
He takes roughly three dozen pictures and then sends nearly half of them to both Bokuto and Osamu. Then, after a moment of deliberation, he sends the three cutest ones directly to Sakusa.
“Now, time to go or else we’ll be late,” He tells Nao-Chan very seriously.
Forty-five minutes, one scramble to get everything packed in the baby bag, a change of shirt for Atsumu after Naoko pukes all over him, and a crowded bus ride later, they arrive, predictably, late.
“You’re late,” Sakusa tells him, like he isn’t already incredibly aware.
“Yeah, I know. You try getting out of the house with everything a baby needs on time,” Atsumu gripes, hefting Naoko’s carrier a little higher in his juggling of it, Naoko’s baby bag, and his own bag. “Have you seen Osamu?”
“In there,” Sakusa says, hooking one freaky thumb over his shoulder to point behind him. “Said he wanted to get a good seat.”
“Awesome, thanks,” Atsumu tosses out behind him as he power walks to find Osamu. Thankfully, he’s fairly easy to spot, sitting front and center with Akaashi in the still mostly empty stands.
“You’re late,” Osamu points out and Atsumu ignores him to set Naoko’s carrier and baby bag down on the seat next to his terrible, terrible twin brother. (His terrible twin brother who is also kind of great for agreeing to watch Naoko during the MSBY match for him when their mom couldn’t make it, though Atsumu will never admit anything positive to his face until he’s on his deathbed, and maybe not even then.)
“She ate before we left home, so she should be okay for a while, but if the match runs long you might hav’ta feed her. And here’s her earmuffs. Make sure to put ‘em on when it starts to get loud,” Atsumu says, passing over the noise cancelling earmuffs. They’re very cute, with little blue foxes on the ears. “Her binky’s in the little pocket on the outside. Give it to her if she gets fussy, but she’s in a pretty good mood today so I think ya might luck out with her. Let’s see, anything else ya might need should be in the bag and if there’s some sort of emergency just, I dunno, cause a ruckus or somethin and I’ll figure somethin’ out.”
Osamu gives him a weird look.
“ What ?”
“Nothin’, it’s just always so weird to see you be… such a dad.”
Atsumu rubs the back of his neck, looking around a little awkwardly. “Well. Yeah. I mean, I am a dad. Kinda comes with the territory I guess.”
“Now that that’s taken care of,” Akaashi interrupts, “I think if you don’t go warm up and set for Bokotu a couple times before the game starts he might vibrate out of his skin.”
“Oh. Right. Yeah. I should do that. You-” Atsumu points at his brother, “Take care of my kid. You-” He points at Akaashi, “Make sure he doesn’t sell her to the circus while I’m distracted.”
“She’s my niece! I wouldn’t-” Osamu starts, looking fully ready to enact violence on his twin even with Naoko’s presence.
“And you,” Atsumu cuts Osamu off, ignoring him entirely as he leans down to speak to Naoko in her carrier. “I’d tell you to torment your uncle, but we need him to stay willing to babysit you for at least a couple more years, so only torment him a little, okay?”
Naoko makes some indistinguishable babbling baby noises and smacks him in the face with her slobbery crinkle cube. He’s not sure if it’s normal that she puts everything and anything that she possibly can in her mouth, but he is sure that it’s kinda disgusting.
“Ah, yes, I see. You raise a good point,” Atsumu says very seriously, “Well, you decide what’s best. I respect your decision on how much you torment Uncle Samu. Daddy’s gotta go and do his job and kick some ass at volleyball though so that I can keep you in diapers and toys, okay? Okay. Great.”
“Time to go warm up,” Sakusa says, appearing suddenly by Atsumu’s shoulder and nearly scaring Atsumu’s entire soul out of his body, before he gives Atsumu no choice and steers him away with a hand between Atsumu’s shoulder blades.
“Omi-Omi, have you ever baby proofed a house?” Atsumu asks the second Sakusa answers the phone.
“Shouldn’t you have already done that before now?” Sakusa asks and Atsumu can feel the judgement radiating through the phone.
“Of course I did! I’m not a moron- don’t respond to that. She’s just movin around a whole lot these days,” Atsumu says, watching like a hawk as Naoko crawls around on chubby little hands and knees, seemingly ecstatic to explore the world that is their living room floor. She’d been slow at the start of the whole crawling thing, something that Atsumu had worried about, but now, as she seemingly zooms along he decides the worried him was an idiot. This is so much worse. “I just- I keep worrying that I might have missed something.”
“Want me to come and take a look?” Sakusa asks, and this is why Atsumu called him. Because Sakusa can be kind of an asshole, but he also has been frighteningly reliable over the last few months of raising Naoko.
Atsumu had expected the bulk of the help to come from Osamu and his mom, and they do help, more than Atsumu is capable of expressing his gratitude for to be entirely honest, but Sakusa Kiyoomi has been the real dark horse of this entire thing.
Atsumu’s not entirely sure what to do with it honestly.
So, he says, “Yeah. Yeah, that’d help,” instead of having to deal with that train of thought right now.
An hour later and Sakusa stands in the middle of Atsumu’s kitchen while Atsumu cuts up fruit for Naoko to eat.
“I’m pretty sure your apartment isn’t going to murder Nao-chan,” Sakusa says. “If you’re really concerned though you should get someone who actually has kids to look everything over.”
“Nah it’s fine,” Atsumu waves the notion away, “I trust you.”
Sakusa’s quiet for a long moment, until Atsumu looks up at him, confused.
“What’s that look about? Do I got somethin’ on my face?”
“Only the normal level of ridiculousness that’s always on it,” Sakusa says before he helps himself to a drink from Atsumu’s fridge without asking, like an animal.
Atsumu harrumphs and dumps Naoko’s snack onto the tray of her highchair, solemnly accepting a chunk of mushy peach when she holds it out to him.
“Thank you, Nao-chan. What a good gift,” He says as he pops the piece of fruit into his mouth and enjoys the wrinkle of Sakusa’s nose as he does. “Ha! I knew you weren’t suddenly immune to your weird issues just because she’s a baby.”
“There’s a difference between the things I’ll put up with for a child and eating a piece of overripe fruit your infant just squished between her fingers.”
“I can guarantee that I’ve had much worse in my mouth, Omi-Omi” Atsumu says with a waggle of his eyebrows. When he realizes what he’s just said he glances at Naoko before shrugging it off. The kid can’t even talk yet, he doubts she can grasp innuendo just yet.
And then, Naoko, his sweet beloved baby girl, the biggest surprise of his entire fucking life, and the apple of his eye, says her very first word and it happens to sound an awful lot like “Omi-Omi.”
Okay, it’s actually closer to “Ohm-Ohm” but still, the sentiment fucking remains.
Atsumu is torn between the absolute high of his kid saying what he’s deeming her first actual word, he doesn’t care how much it’s not really a word just yet, and the sheer betrayal that it wasn’t, you know, him.
“You- She- You!” He jabs a finger at Sakusa.
“Did she just-”
“Yes! You took her first word!”
“It’s not my fault! I’m not the one who goes around calling me Omi-Omi all the time no matter how many times you’re corrected. She learned it from you.” It’s a valid point, but Atsumu has never in his life let a valid point stop him.
“Traitor,” Atsumu tells Naoko very seriously before he can’t resist and he pulls her out of her highchair and squishes her to him, “You said a word! Well, kind of a word. But still! You’re so smart! How’d that happen?”
“It certainly didn’t come from you,” Sakusa says and Atsumu flips him off behind Naoko’s back.
Naoko squirms and babbles in discontent and Atsumu drops her back into her highchair with a “Sorry I interrupted snack time, your old man was just excited.”
There’s a strange quiet after that while Naoko works on her food.
“I should-” Sakusa starts.
“I was gonna order some dinner,” Atsumu says at the same time, “You wanna stay and eat?”
“Only if it’s not from-”
“‘That walking health code violation masquerading as a restaurant that you love,’” Atsumu quotes in what he insists is a pitch perfect imitation of Sakusa, “Yeah, yeah, I know. We’ll order from somewhere else.”
“Well, in that case, I guess I have some time.”
Naoko’s first birthday is an event. Samu and his mom show up with a cake and more food than even a hundred people can eat, and what feels like at least half the people Atsumu knows show up with brightly wrapped gifts that they foist upon him for his kid while he bitches that his apartment absolutely does not have room for this much shit.
It’s good, is the thing, no matter how much Atsumu bitches. Atsumu likes having nearly everyone he cares about within arms reach, and Naoko absolutely adores the attention from everyone. What isn’t good is his stupid brother and Aran ganging up on him like they’re all still in highschool and it’s their second favorite sport after volleyball.
“So, we’ve noticed something,” Aran says, slinging an arm around Atsumu’s shoulders and distracting him from where he was watching Sakusa help Naoko toddle along, holding onto her hands so that she remains upright. Sakusa had wiped her hands down with sanitizing wipes first, an act that Naoko is quite frankly far too obsessed with for Atsumu’s comfort. He’s corrupting Atsumu’s kid with his obsessive compulsive cleanliness.
“I didn’t know either of ya had enough brains to notice anything,” Atsumu says, feeling a creeping sense of dread.
“Funny,” Aran says in a way that means he absolutely does not think it’s funny and also he’s been dealing with Atsumu’s shit for far too long. To be fair, Atsumu has been dealing with Atsumu’s shit for far too long, so he’s not as sympathetic to Aran’s plight as he should be. “So, we’ve noticed you and Sakusa-san seem… close.”
“Your highschool crush seems very involved in your and Nao-chan’s life,” Samu adds.
“...Is this supposed to be an intervention?” Atsumu asks.
“Yes,” Samu says immediately.
“No,” Aran says over him, “We’re just curious if something’s happening there.”
“He barely tolerates me, so no. I think he just likes Nao-chan.”
“You are such a fucking idiot. I had to have stolen your brains in the womb,” Osamu says with, Atsumu would like the record to state, absolutely no provocation.
Aran releases Atsumu’s shoulders and takes a large step backward.
“I’m the idiot? I’m the idiot?! You’re the stupid one!” Atsumu moves closer, fully intent on ruining his daughter’s birthday party by strangling her uncle. She’ll be fine. She’s young enough that Atsumu can pretend he was an only child and she’ll never know the difference.
“I can’t believe you think you’re the smart one!” Osamu yells.
“I don’t! We’re both stupid!” Atsumu yells right back.
“‘OH I’M ATSUMU AND I DIDN’T DISCOVER HAIR TONER UNTIL I WAS 23 AND I THINK SAKUSA FUCKING KIYOOMI ONLY HANGS AROUND ME FOR MY WEIRD GERMY BABY!’”
“NAOKO IS NOT WEIRD!”
“I WATCHED HER LICK A ROCK WHILE WE WERE SETTING UP!”
“THAT’S PERFECTLY NORMAL FOR A TODDLER!”
At some point it seems they’ve gone on autopilot and wrestled each other onto the ground, because when a throat clearing above him grabs his attention he has to look up incredibly far to see Sakusa judgmentally looking down at him.
“She needs changing,” Sakusa says, holding Naoko out with his hands under her armpits. It can’t possibly be comfortable, but Naoko doesn’t seem to mind.
“She needs changing,” Samu parrots obnoxiously and Atsumu shoves his knee a little harder into his stomach.
“I’ll murder you in your sleep,” Atsumu hisses.
“Good luck getting into my apartment.”
“I have a key!”
“I’ll change the locks!”
Atsumu picks himself up off the ground and takes Naoko from Sakusa. “Hello stinky girl,” He tells Naoko before he turns to Samu, “I’m going to go change my daughter, because I have a daughter who is cuter than any kid you could ever have.”
“I have a restaurant.”
“I have a happier, more fulfilling life.”
“My life is very fufilling! Onigiri Miya is on multiple best of lists!” Samu calls as Atsumu walks away.
Atsumu is well versed in his own anxieties. He’s been managing them since he was six years old, curled up under his and Samu’s bunk bed with his first ever panic attack.
He worries, sometimes (often,) that Naoko will inherit whatever is wrong with Atsumu’s brain, whatever screw is loose that creates the itch under his skin and the tightness of his chest. That she may never know peace and will end up with a broken brain and a broken father and a broken life all because of Atsumu.
“You’re breathing weird,” Sakusa says from where he’s using Atsumu’s vacuum to clean the couch before he willingly sits on it so that they can watch a scary movie Suna recommended to Atsumu, but that Atsumu absolutely refuses to watch alone.
Sakusa’s so fucking weird. Atsumu has no idea how someone so weird can possibly be so hot.
“I’m fine,” Atsumu says quickly.
“You’re not,” Sakusa says, because apparently he can’t lie even when he should.
“Do you think Naoko’s gonna end up fucked up?” Atsumu blurts out.
“Yes,” Sakusa says immediately.
Atsumu suddenly feels the hot burn of what should be his fight or flight instinct but is actually his fight or cry instinct. He’s not sure what way it will go this time, whether it’ll end in tears or him fucking up whatever tenative friendship he’s made with Sakusa over the last year or so. So, he swallows it down and doesn’t say anything.
“No more than anyone else is though,” Sakusa adds after a moment, looking a little like a person who is clarifying something they didn’t think could possibly need clarification.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, we’re all screwed up, right? It’s kinda inevitable no matter what our parents do,” Sakusa says before he stands straighter and puts the upholstery attachment back on the vacuum. “Alright. We can start the movie. And don’t even think about eating on the couch.”
He says it before Atsumu can even thinks to start towards the kitchen and it shakes him out of his head enough that he splutters. “It’s my couch!”
“And I have to sit on it with you. I’m not sitting on crumbs.”
“You’re so bossy,” Atsumu grumbles before he goes to his kitchen and gets a bag of chips anyway, returning to stand in his own living room. “I’m eating them standing.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Sakusa tells him.
“No one can be perfect Omi-Omi. When ya look this good you’ve gotta have at least one flaw.”
“Just the one?”
“You’re so mean to me. In my own home.”
“I can leave,” Sakusa says, making no move to leave.
“Don’t ya dare. I’m supposed to be being a childless adult tonight and having child free fun. If ya leave I’ll end up laying on my living room floor wonderin’ if Bokuto dropped my kid on her head in his endeavor to prove to Akaashi that they can totally do the baby thing even if he did murder all the plants he bought to prove just that.”
“She’s got a hard head, I think she’ll be okay.”
“Ugh,” Atsumu groans, tossing the bag of chips onto the coffee table without eating a single one before flopping dramatically onto the couch. There’s a careful distance between him and Sakusa, because Sakusa might let Naoko climb all over him these days, but Atsumu’s pretty sure the No Touching rules still apply to anyone who’s not an incredibly adorable small child. “This is the first time she’s been away from me for a whole night for anything other than away games since I got her.”
It’s weird how weird that feels. Naoko had been such a surprise- an almost unwelcome one at first, if Atsumu’s fully honest with himself, which he oftentimes is not- and now, almost a year later, the thought that she’s not right there, babbling away and playing with the toys that have rapidly overfilled Atsumu’s apartment feels almost wrong somehow.
“Really?” Sakusa asks, and Atsumu would feel more offended if he hadn’t learned by now how to tell that there’s a ghost of a smile beneath Sakusa’s stupid mask.
“Yes asshole, really.” Atsumu insists, throwing a pillow at Sakusa’s head. “I’m sure this is shockin to hear, but I’m actually a great dad who spends time with my child. Naoko is flourishing. We are thriving. I deserve one of those corny Number One Dad mugs because I am, actually, a number one dad.”
Sakusa laughs. It’s a tiny little thing, barely even the ghost of a laugh if Atsumu were to get technical, but his eyes crinkle when he does it and Atsumu looks at goddamned Sakusa Kiyoomi and he thinks “Oh,” and “Oh no.”
“I think I’m in love,” Atsumu says dramatically while Samu is attempting to teach Naoko how to roll onigiri.
She’s not very good at it, obviously, because she’s a toddler and this is more of a game to her than anything, but Samu is indulgent with her anyway, and everytime she holds out a misshapen lump of rice and asks “ Good?” Samu insists it is, in fact, good because he’s a dirty rotten lying liar who lies. (Also because he’s a good uncle, but Atsumu likes his version better.)
“No shit. You’ve liked him since highschool.” Samu says with absolutely no surprise, which is rude, because this sure as hell was a very surprising realization for Atsumu.
“No, no. I had a crush on him in highschool, and then I realized he was annoying and weird, and then we became teammates, and then friends- kind of- and now, now I think I’m in love with him because he’s weird and annoying.”
“No shit. You’ve liked him since highschool,” Samu repeats and Atsumu would strangle him if not for the fact that Naoko very proudly proclaims “SHIT!”
Atsumu and Osamu both stare at her with identical surprised expressions, mouths dropped open in a little ‘O’ before Atsumu turns on Osamu.
“You!”
“Don’t blame me! She woulda learned it anyway!”
“I’ll blame ya all I want!”
Osamu, because he’s the absolute worst, does not continue fighting with Atsumu and instead deals a low blow and asks, “So, what are you gonna do about your heart boner for your teammate?”
“Okay, first off, don’t call it that. That’s gross and the last thing I need Nao-chan repeating is heart boner.”
“Answer my question about your heart boner then.”
“I hate you. So. Much.”
Atsumu lays in his bed until 4 in the morning, staring at his ceiling, unable to sleep and plotting out a 13 step plan to discover whether he thinks Sakusa would let him get in his pants and also maybe hold his hand a little.
He even debates the merits of possibly having to wear gloves while holding hands depending on just how weird Sakusa is about that stuff and determines that yeah, it’d probably still be worth it.
And then, Atsumu promptly forgets all about the 13 step plan and blurts “Wanna go on a date?” to Sakusa in the crowded locker room after practice before he instantly, and not for the first time in his life, desperately wishes that some sort of monster will emerge from one of the lockers and suck him into another dimension so that he doesn’t have to deal with the repercussions of his giant fucking mouth.
Bokuto slaps a hand over his mouth as though to physically stop himself from yelling.
Shouyou seems to be attempting to vibrate out of his own skin next to Atsumu.
Meian sighs and hands Inunaki a wad of money.
“Sure,” Sakusa says.
Shouyou’s vibrating next to him seems to pick up speed, and Atsumu, were he not so focused on the fact that he just asked Sakusa out and he said sure, would be concerned that the poor kid is gonna vibrate himself out of the atmosphere somehow. That can’t be healthy.
“Sure?”
“Yeah, but you’re paying,” Sakusa says, tugging on a truly hideous looking hoodie - god, why does Atsumu like this guy?- and starting to head out, turning to tell Atsumu “And I’m picking where we go,” before he’s gone, leaving Atsumu blinking at the spot where he used to be.
“What just happened?” Atsumu asks the locker room at large.
“You got a date!” Shouyou chirps, beaming.
“And I just lost three thousand more yen,” Meian says bleakly, handing over another wad of cash to Shouyou.
“Were you betting on my love life?” Atsumu demands, mustering as much offense as he can in this terribly trying time.
“Yes,” Shouyou says, sounding utterly unrepentant.
“We should have let you be lured away to Sao Paulo,” Atsumu says, jabbing a finger in Shouyou’s direction.
Atsumu has to run to catch up with Sakusa outside, but he manages it.
“Sorry,” Atsumu gasps, bent over with his hands on his knees as he catches his breath.
“Hm?”
“Sorry. For asking you that in front of everyone. It’s probably gonna be a whole thing now.”
“It’s fine.”
“In my defense, I didn’t really mean to do it. Not that I didn’t want to! It just kinda came out of my mouth without my permission. I’d meant to do it, like, at a better time or something- wait, it’s fine?”
“They’d find out eventually,” Sakusa says, shrugging.
“Eventually… As in, the date will be so terrible that we won’t be able to hide it and they’d find out that way, or that we would go on enough dates that they’d have to notice?”
Sakusa does not answer.
“Oh my god, Omi-Omi do you want to date me?”
“Not right now, I don’t.”
“Oh my god, you do! You totally want to date me!” Atsumu crows, and feels a little thrill of delight over the fact that Sakusa’s ears have gone red even while his eyebrows say annoyed . “Omi-Omi, you like me. That must be so embarrassing for you.”
Somehow, though Atsumu could not tell you, his back is suddenly against Sakusa’s car, and Sakusa is looming over him. It’s kinda hot actually.
“You,” Sakusa says, tugging down his mask, “Are the most annoying person I’ve ever had the misfortune to know.”
And then, before Atsumu can get truly offended, he’s being kissed. Atsumu makes a not at all embarrassing sounding noise and lets himself melt into the side of Sakusa’s car and get kissed to within an inch of his life.
It’s kinda nice.
It’s really nice actually. Easily a Top Five Kiss, which, okay, maybe shouldn’t surprise Atsumu as much as it does, but he’d kinda expected Sakusa’s whole germ thing to mean he didn’t have a ton of experience in this kind of thing.
“Not gonna lie, Omi, this is givin’ me some real mixed signals here,” Atsumu says when Sakusa pulls back a little bit and presses his mouth to Atsumu’s jaw. Atsumu, for his part, tips his head back in a way that’s supposed to make his neck look very appealing and kissable, but also, maybe it makes him look like a giraffe? Who knows? Certainly not Atsumu when his brain has been turned into scrambled eggs by the fact that Sakusa Kiyoomi just kissed him.
“You,” Sakusa says again, “Are the most annoying person I’ve ever met, and-” He looks at Atsumu and takes a breath, appearing to brace himself for whatever he’s about to say. “I like that.”
Atsumu blinks. Blinks again. And then, he blinks one more time for good measure. “...Ya do?”
“Against all better reason, yes.”
“Hmm, I’m not feelin’ very convinced,” Atsumu says, draping his arms over Sakusa’s shoulders and grinning up at him. “You should try to convince me-”
Whatever else might have happened is cut off by the wolf whistling and general heckling of their teammates as they emerge from the gym. Atsumu loves his teammates, especially when they’re winning- which they have been lately- but that doesn’t mean he also doesn’t want to shove them in front of oncoming traffic a little right now.
He was having a moment. A moment that involved confessions and kissing and that now just involves Bokuto shouting that “You better treat that boy right, Tsum-Tsum!!!” at a decibel that could be heard from space.
“Drive me home,” Atsumu tells Sakusa. “Please, just get me away from them.”
“Absolutely not. I’m not your chauffeur,” Sakusa says like he has any choice in this.
“Too late, I’m getting in your car,” Atsumu says as he ducks under Sakusa’s arm and gets into his car. “The babysitter gets mad if I’m late and you made me miss my bus.”
“This is harassment,” Sakusa claims with the sigh of someone who is deeply suffering and also realizes it’s their own fault. “Also, your babysitter is your twin brother. I think you’ll be fine.”
“First off, Osamu is the worst and I will not be fine if I’m late. And second, ya already admitted that ya like that I’m an annoying asshole so I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news that this ain’t ever gonna stop.”
Sakusa doesn’t admit that Atsumu’s right, but he does let Atsumu hold his hand on the drive home, which Atsumu decides is basically the same thing.
Three And A Half Years Later
“Tell me a story,” Naoko demands imperiously after Atsumu has tucked her in amongst her many stuffed animals and pillows.
“Can’t we make Omi do it this time?” Atsumu asks, crouched next to his daughter’s bed and fretting with the blankets a little more to make sure Naoko is fully settled with her favorite stuffy. Atsumu had had the great joy this year of having to figure out how to acquire a stuffed animal sized face mask when Naoko had asked why Leonard The Bear couldn’t be safe from germs like her and Omi-Omi.
Naoko thinks about it for a long moment, and then- “No.”
Kiyoomi, from where he’s standing in the doorway, snorts.
“You know what, kid?” Atsumu tells Naoko, “We’ve got a real good case for the nurture side of the nature versus nurture debate with you.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Naoko tells her father very seriously.
“It means ya take after your Papa Omi way too much for someone who doesn’t have a lick of his genetic material.”
“Oh,” Naoko says, nodding like this makes perfect sense even if Atsumu is like 83% sure she still doesn’t understand what he means. Then, she yawns into Leonard The Bear and says, “I’d like my story now.”
“Alright, alright. What one?”
“Make one up.”
“Fiiiiine. Once upon a time, in a land far, far away,” Atsumu starts.
“No.” Naoko says.
“Alright, not very long ago, in an apartment building only a 20 minute bus ride away, there lived a boy.”
“This boy was an idiot,” Kiyoomi interjects, close enough now that when Atsumu leans back on his haunches he can lean back against Kiyoomi.
“Exactly. This boy was very, very stupid, and while his life was full of family and friends and… hmmm, jousting.”
“Jousting?”
“Yes. Jousting. It’s the thing with the knights and the sticks and the horses.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“While his life was full of family and friends, and jousting tournaments, there was something he didn’t even know was missing.”
“What was he missing?”
“You’ll find out if you let me tell the story!”
“Da- ad.”
“Anyway, one day he opened the door of that apartment only a 20 minute bus ride away, and there, in a basket, delivered by fairies, was a lost little princess.”
“Was her name Nao-chan?”
“No.”
“I think her name was Nao-chan.”
“I think you need to let me finish the story and go to sleep.”