Work Text:
“I’m bored, Samu,” Atsumu says into his phone. His original plans for the day were to stop by Osamu’s and force him to entertain him—maybe play a few sets of volleyball or catch a movie or something— but that fell through when Osamu said he was, apparently, too busy .
“ I don’t know what ya want me to do about that.” Osamu’s voice is exasperated, but that’s what he gets, as far as Atsumu is concerned.
“You could start by bein’ a decent brother, for one.”
“ Did you call me just to whine or did you actually have something important to say? ”
“This is important, ass. I’m bored. ”
“Do ya not have fuckin’ friends to go bother or are ya really that lame? I told ya it’s our anniversary last week. It’s not my fault you can’t be bothered to listen to anything that isn’t about you.”
“Of course I have friends! What the hell d—”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Samu, don’t you—”
The call ends, Osamu’s stupid face flashing on the screen before it turns black.
" I toldja it was our anniversary, " Atsumu mocks, even though Osamu is no longer on the phone.
He stuffs his phone into his pocket and stomps down the sidewalk. This is the quieter part of town, more residential than anything, but he's pretty sure there is a coffee shop down the road a little ways.
By the time he reaches the coffee shop, the irritation has already dropped to a simmer. Even if Osamu is a traitor, he's not gonna let his day be ruined.
As he walks up to the door, he notices a small cat lounging in the window; he pauses outside to wave at it, chuckling when its mouth cracks open in a wide yawn. Pulling out his phone, Atsumu snaps a quick picture.
[ Atsumu Miya has sent a picture ]
Atsumu Miya:
This is so much better than what ur doing. Bet.
[ Osamu Miya has sent a picture]
Osamu Miya:
Tell me you're chronically single without telling me you're chronically single 🤭
Atsumu Miya:
Go away Sunarin
I wasn't talkin to u
Where's my brother
Osamu Miya:
😊
Busy 👅
Atsumu Miya:
Ur fucking gross
Idk what Samu sees in u…
Shoving his phone away, face twisted in irritation, Atsumu makes his way to the front counter to place his order; once his drink is in hand, he goes for the whipped cream right away, sighing happily as the sweetness hits his tongue. With a small wave to the barista, he wades through all of the empty seats, finally deciding on one out on the patio.
If he’s going to be bored and alone, at least the weather is nice…
"Excuse me?" Atsumu looks up at the deep voice and it's like time slows; his eyes catch on long legs, clad in dark denim, first. Then the off-white color of a knit sweater that looks softer and more expensive than anything he's ever owned. A watch gleams on their wrist where their shirt sleeves are rolled up.
Broad shoulders and an intense stare come next. Atsumu adjusts his glasses from where they had slipped down the bridge of his nose, mouth dropping open slightly as his brain crashes back into the now .
Mystery guy is talking—has been?—but it's all lost on Atsumu. Atsumu holds up his hand, interrupting whatever he was saying, brows furrowed. "Sorry. I didn't catch that."
Crossing his arms across his chest, Mystery Guy appears impatient, his body stiff as he stands awkwardly a few feet away. He hikes the bag on his shoulder up a little higher. "I asked," he says slowly, looking at Atsumu like he might think he's an idiot. "If you're the guy I'm supposed to be meeting. For a date."
Now, Atsumu hasn't ever been known for his great impulse control. He's the first to admit that he reacts first and thinks later. Even so—
Sitting up straighter, Atsumu wets his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue, head falling to rest propped up by his hand. "You'll have ta forgive me and my manners." He smiles and lightly shoves at the chair opposite him with his foot, gesturing towards it with his other hand. "Name's Atsumu. It's a pleasure to finally meet ya."
"Kiyoomi." Kiyoomi sits down in the chair across from Atsumu and studies his face.
— even so , Atsumu wonders what the hell is wrong with himself and how he's going to explain his way out of this one.
Atsumu takes a sip of his drink, the liquid making a loud slurping noise as it slides through the straw. Kiyoomi's forehead wrinkles at the sound and Atsumu does it again just to try and buy himself some more time. He knows that lying about being someone’s blind date when you absolutely aren’t isn’t the smartest thing to do. He can already hear Osamu’s annoying voice rattling around his head about how lyin’ ain’t the way to find a boyfriend, ‘Tsumu. You that desperate or just stupid?
But when life hands you lemons you’re supposed to make lemonade, right? And maybe sometimes those lemons just happen to be a really hot guy looking for some good company and everything else is just noise.
Who is Atsumu to question the universe’s whims?
"So." Atsumu winks, feeling emboldened. If there’s one thing he knows about himself, regardless of the detriment to himself or those around him, it’s his ability to fake it until he makes it. "I'm curious—are the first impressions livin' up to yer expectations?"
Across from him, Kiyoomi appraises Atsumu carefully, lifting a carefully-groomed eyebrow ( Fuck, is that an eyebrow slit? Atsumu’s brain supplies) and clears his throat. “Motoya was pretty tight-lipped about giving anything away. The only thing he told me was the name of this coffee place and the color shirt you said you’d be wearing.” His eyes dip down towards Atsumu’s chest briefly and he unhooks the mask from around his ears to take a sip of his coffee.
Atsumu takes a moment to glance at his shirt and cringes a little; all things considered it could be a lot more offensive than the soft purple shirt, one he’d cropped himself on a whim, with embroidered flowers spanning the chest. Sure, the high-waisted pants are ripped at the knees and he’s wearing worn-out chucks that he’s owned for longer than he can remember, but vintage is totally in.
So, yeah, all things considered , it could be much worse, but when he looks at Kiyoomi who seems so suave and put-together, he feels just a little underdressed.
When you leave the house planning to bug your brother into paying attention to you and feeding you something that doesn’t come from a vending machine or convenience store, but instead end up on a date with a very hot stranger who most definitely thinks you are someone else that’s bound to happen, right?
Running a hand back through his hair, Atsumu chuckles and winks at Kiyoomi. “At least I wasn’t the only one left in the dark.” The name Motoya makes little lights flash in his brain, but he can’t figure out why . He smiles and cocks his head, mouth opening before he can think better of it. “In the spirit of gettin’ to know ya, Omi-kun, aside from being downright smokin’ hot, what do you do for a livin’?”
Kiyoomi chokes on his drink, eyes narrowing as he pats a napkin across his lips. The dark glare shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but that doesn’t stop Atsumu’s brain from starting a list of ways to get him to keep looking at him like that. Atsumu swipes his tongue across his lips to wet them and smirks.
“What? Cat got yer tongue or somethin’?”
“You’ll have to excuse me. I wasn’t quite prepared for something so stupid to come out of your mouth.” The corner of Kiyoomi’s mouth quirks upwards; he tries to hide it with his coffee mug but Atsumu catches it anyway. It sends a little thrill down his back, only spurred on when Kiyoomi opens his mouth to say, “I thought maybe you couldn’t possibly be as ridiculous as you look, but maybe I was wrong.”
“Ridiculous?” Scoffing, Atsumu scoots his chair backwards and stands with a flourish. He gestures to his body and poses seriously. “I think we both know I’m adorable. It’s okay, you can admit it.”
Kiyoomi makes a noncommittal noise and leans down, reaching inside of the bag at his feet; Atsumu watches as he pulls a small Moleskine notebook out and flips it open carefully. “What are you doing?” he asks, skeptically.
“What am I doing?” Kiyoomi doesn’t look up from where he’s scribbling something in his notebook.
Narrowing his eyes, Atsumu rushes to reclaim his seat and attempts to leer over Kiyoomi to see what he’s writing. Despite his efforts, he remains unsuccessful—the only thing he can make out is the small, neat scribble of a pen—and he scoffs. Kiyoomi’s eyes dart up to his for hardly a second but there is a spark in them that leaves Atsumu’s pulse thundering away.
He splutters. “ Yeah . Who else would I be talkin’ about?” Atsumu spreads his arms out, emphasizing the lack of other people around them.
Kiyoomi’s shoulders shake almost imperceptibly.
“That ain’t an answer, you know.” Atsumu props his elbows on the table and rests his chin on his clasped hands. In his most sickly-sweet voice, he says, “Keepin’ secrets from me already, sweetheart? Careful or you might hurt my fe—”
Kiyoomi slides the notebook over to Atsumu and he takes a careful drink from his mug. “I was just making some notes for Motoya.”
Atsumu stares at the words on the paper for a moment before turning it to face Kiyoomi. Snatching the pen from Kiyoomi’s hand, he taps it against the page for a moment and pulls his face into a look of concentration. Voice serious, he speaks slowly, “So, what yer trying to tell me is…”
He grabs the pen from where it’s sitting and uncaps it with his teeth, ignoring the look of absolute disdain that transforms Kiyoomi’s face; tapping the pen against the page, Atsumu rakes his other hand back through his hair and allows the grin he’d been suppressing to split his lips as a bright laugh spills out. “You think I’m hot. HA! ” He winks and circles HOT BLONDE on the list, pushing the book closer to Kiyoomi.
“I think you’re missing the most important point.” Snatching the pen from Atsumu, Kiyoomi wipes it down with a napkin. He draws three dark lines under DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO SHUT UP and circles the last two words several times. “A hot guy is only as hot as his ability to shut the hell up.”
“ I think ,” Atsumu reaches out and closes the notebook, “the most important point is that you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”
Leaning back in his chair, Kiyoomi crosses his legs so primly that it almost makes Atsumu snort. “You should be so lucky.” He brushes off invisible dust from his knee and inspects his well-manicured nails. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t kiss strangers regardless of how hot they are.”
The retort that was sitting on the tip of Atsumu’s tongue dies when he glances to the side and sees the fluffiest puppies he may have ever laid eyes on passing by the fence separating the patio from the sidewalk. “Oh, arentcha just the cutest things around?” he all but coos as one of the dogs finds a stray stick and bounces around with it in its mouth.
The other one makes a valiant effort to steal the stick but fails, falling to the side with a huff while the owner chides them in a playful voice, urging them to get up so they can keep moving. The one on the ground perks its head up, ears twitching, when they notice Atsumu staring; wiggling his fingers in a small wave, Atsumu chuckles at the excited yips that get both of the pups going.
It’s only once the barking is gone, disappearing around the corner, that Atsumu remembers that he isn’t alone. He turns and catches Kiyoomi’s eyes, cheeks heating, and he finds that he wishes he had the forethought to bring a mask because at least that would have helped hide the evidence. Picking up his cup, he shoves the straw in his mouth.
The corners of Kiyoomi’s eyes soften almost imperceptibly. He clears his throat gently. “Are you an animal person then?”
Atsumu grins. “‘Course I am!”
“Do you have any pets?”
“Not here, but back home we have a couple cats. Pochi and Miso. You can tell which one is my brother’s because he can’t stop spoilin’ her with treats.” Atsumu props his head up on his bent arm and smirks. “Not that all that spoilin’ does him any good because she still loves me best.”
Kiyoomi’s huff of laughter is quiet and he nods along. “That so?”
“Totally. Sometimes ma’ll facetime us and Miso only comes runnin’ once she hears me. Can’t blame her for havin’ good taste, though. Samu’s the worst.”
“Mmm. For some reason, I feel like it maybe has less to do with your brother and more to do with your loud mouth.”
Atsumu pouts, brows furrowing; Kiyoomi isn’t paying any attention to him as he meticulously cuts up a piece of his yokan with the small fork that the barista had brought out with it, but Atsumu doesn’t miss the way the corners of his lips tilt up. It’s a little unfair that he looks so good like this because while he kind of wants to complain and stick his tongue out in petulance, he’s finding that he kind of also doesn’t mind being the butt of the joke if it’ll get Kiyoomi’s eyes to crinkle like that.
“ Ouch. Defendin’ Samu and you haven’t even met him.”
“I’m just saying that I think there might be more to this than meets the eye.”
Reaching across the table, Atsumu snatches one of the pieces of yokan that Kiyoomi had just cut up and pops it into his mouth. “Well you’re wrong ,” he says around the food in his mouth. “Trust me. I know animals, Omi-Omi.”
“You are an animal.” The glare that Kiyoomi aims at him is deadly but it doesn’t deter him from attempting to steal another piece.
He smiles when Kiyoomi pulls his plate closer to his chest, fork held in his hand like he isn’t afraid to use it for violent means, and holds his arms up in surrender. “Do you have any pets?”
“I traveled a lot until recently.” Kiyoomi shakes his head. “No fat cats waiting for me at my parents’ house either.”
“You should come check out the shelter sometime.”
“The shelter?”
“Yeah! I volunteer at a shelter not too far from here like…all the time, to be honest. I was actually s’posed to be there today, but they told me to get lost on account of—” Atsumu cuts himself off, staring wide-eyed at Kiyoomi, afraid that if he opens his mouth again something unfortunate might slip out. While it’s true that he had been kicked out yesterday with his boss threatening to ban him permanently if he didn’t get out and do something else with his limited free time, he can’t exactly tell Kiyoomi that on account of the fact that Atsumu totally lied about being his blind date because of the simple fact that he thought he was sexy as hell.
As far as Kiyoomi is concerned, Atsumu’s plans for the day centered around their impending date.
Sweat beads at the back of Atsumu’s neck and he feels a crash of nerves hit him. Because, yeah , Kiyoomi is hot, but he’s witty with a sharp tongue that cuts in the best of ways. He’s giving Atsumu a run for his money and it’s exciting. And he’s currently staring at Atsumu, dark eyes searching his face, full lips pulling into a frown.
Is that…is he wearing eyeliner too? The late realization almost does Atsumu in. He barely stops himself from smacking his face down on the table between them. I’m in trouble .
“—of the blind date. They told me I better get outta there so I could stop breakin’ the hearts of all the lovely ladies there.”
Kiyoomi tips his head back and lets out a bark of laughter before sitting up straight again. “A heartbreaker?” he asks, voice quiet and deep.
It makes Atsumu’s heart race and he has to reach beneath the table to wipe a sweaty palm against his pants. He watches as Kiyoomi pulls out his notebook and when he opens it, it’s to the page with the list from earlier on it. A lock of curly hair tumbles over Kiyoomi’s eye as he tips his head forward and Atsumu has to beat back the urge to curl it around his fingers to see if it’s as soft as it looks.
What the hell is wrong with him all of a sudden?
“Look at me.” Atsumu aims for suave, but it’s like his traitorous brain and mouth are no longer on speaking terms because it comes out clumsy instead, tongue somehow getting tangled up around the words. Clearing his throat, he tries again, “It’s not anyone’s fault that I’m so handsome. It’s only natural that there are a coupla broken hearts out there.”
Kiyoomi holds the pen between his long fingers and pauses where he had been scratching the nib against the paper. He looks up and catches Atsumu’s eye. “Oh, right. Naturally.”
The way he says it makes Atsumu feel sufficiently mocked, but it’s hard to be too upset about that when Kiyoomi punctuates the statement with a charming little smirk that makes a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupt in his stomach. Atsumu sputters. “What are you even writing ?”
He grabs the notebook, ignoring Kiyoomi’s protests, and makes an exasperated sound in the back of his throat when he sees SELF-ADMITTED HEARTBREAKER listed under the cons side of the list.
“I’m a good boyfriend!” Jabbing his finger harshly against the paper, Atsumu leans forward until he’s invading Kiyoomi’s personal space. He stares down the straight-faced, serious look and hisses out a whisper of, “Take it back.”
To his credit, Kiyoomi doesn’t back away. His eyes sharpen and he tilts his head to the side. The only thing that gives away his game is the barely-there quiver of his lips, curving them up before he can stop it. “I’m a little disinclined to believe that now, Atsumu.”
“I can prove it!”
“How do you plan on doing that?”
“I’ll take ya on another date and woo you until you can’t stand not bein’ my boyfriend for another second.”
“Easy as that?”
“ Easy as. ”
“Yeah, you’re right. I can’t see any way that could go wrong.”
“Can't say I'm a fan of yer sarcasm.”
“It’s skepticism, actually.”
“ It’s skepticism, actually ,” Atsumu mocks. He sits back in his chair, the force sending the legs sliding against the floor with the grating scrape of metal against brick; Kiyoomi's taunts leave him riled up, but even more than that he feels that tell-tale thrum of excitement that always leaves him craving more. It gets him into trouble more often than not, but it hasn't stopped him yet. “Oi, quit writin’ more!”
Kiyoomi looks up, pen pausing on the paper, and he meets Atsumu's stare head-on. One neat eyebrow rises into his hairline, completely undeterred in the face of Atsumu’s scowl. “No.”
“Lemme see then!”
“No.”
“Please.”
And it's really not fair, for a variety of reasons that Kiyoomi apparently has long-ass arms. Long arms that, even through the fabric of the sweater, look muscular and distracting because now Atsumu is kind of curious if it's true or not.
He reaches out, attempting to grab for the notebook; apparently, the fucking wires in his brain got crossed somewhere because instead of his fingers grasping paper, or even the air where the paper used to be, he finds that he took a detour— maybe the scenic route seemed like a better option , his brain supplies in a voice that sounds suspiciously like Suna’s—and his hand is cupping Kiyoomi's very muscular, fabric-clothed bicep.
“ No .”
Kiyoomi’s voice is tense and Atsumu thinks he can maybe see the beginnings of a blush creeping up high on his cheekbones. Unfortunately, he’s also sure that it has nothing on the way that his own face is lighting up like a damn neon sign. Even still, he can’t seem to gather his wits enough to move his hand . Instead, his fingers curl around Kiyoomi’s arm and give a slight squeeze— “Damn, yer gonna have to show me yer routine. I don’t even think goin’ to a sculpting class would teach me how to get this chiseled.”
At the sound of a throat clearing, Atsumu looks to the right. He snatches his hand away and shoves it under the table where it—hopefully—won’t get him into any other trouble.
“Can I clear any of this out of the way for you two?” the barista asks, tucking a strand of hair behind their ear.
Grateful for any distraction, Atsumu nods enthusiastically, gathering up the now-empty plates and cups in a neat pile to hand off to the kind employee. “If it’s not too much trouble, d’ya think I could get another one of the specials? Dealer’s choice!” he adds with a megawatt smile on his face. “And whatever my date here wants.”
While Kiyoomi lets the barista know what he would like, Atsumu takes his phone out and replies to a text from his mom and sends a middle finger to Osamu just because.
Kiyoomi’s voice prompts him to look up. He’s fidgeting with a napkin, folding it over and over again with neat, straight lines, and there is still the faintest tinge of pink to his cheeks. Cute. “Here, I’ll offer you a deal—if you can woo me and prove that you’re a good boyfriend, I’ll let you see what I wrote.”
“You sure yer ready for that? I told ya already, I’m charming as hell.”
It’s not necessarily ideal . Anyone who has met Atsumu could tell you that patience hasn’t ever been a word associated with him. On the other hand , this means that he’ll get to see Kiyoomi again—that Kiyoomi wants to see him again—and that might be enough to momentarily soothe the urge to see just what the hell Kiyoomi scribbled down about him.
Unless of course it was something bad because ouch .
But that’s probably impossible, given the fact that Atsumu knows he’s a catch. Kiyoomi just needs to get with the program.
“That remains to be seen,” Kiyoomi deadpans. The roundness of his cheeks gives away the smile hidden behind his hand though.
Atsumu winks, tilting his head as he rests it against his closed fist. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever ya say. Yer not convincin’ anyone.”
The barista returns with their orders, offering a polite nod before they head back inside. Atsumu lifts his cup up to his lips, searching for the straw with his tongue, and takes a big slurp. Hopefully, all of the caffeine won’t mess him up too bad considering he has a long day of classes tomorrow plus he had wanted to stop in at the shelter afterwards to check in on the kittens, and he’s pretty sure that Aran said something about getting together at some point…
“Hey, Omi-kun, you never answered my question earlier—what do ya do for a livin’? Figure I can’t be a good boyfriend if I don’t know a thing about ya.”
Kiyoomi chuckles and the sound paired with the way his eyes crinkle at the corners does a number on Atsumu. A critical hit. His mouth dries and he almost misses what he says. “—was I supposed to answer when you kept running your mouth?”
Atsumu barely has any time to be offended before Kiyoomi starts talking again.
“Like I said, I spent the last couple of years traveling.” Kiyoomi pauses, eyes shifting to the side as he fidgets with the fringe at the top of his head. “My parents were kind of mad because I didn’t go right to college, but they got over it eventually. It was good for my art to get out and see the world a bit, I guess.”
“That’s cool as hell! Samu and I always said we were gonna travel the world together, but money was tight. And then he started datin’ Suna who like…yeah, he makes him happy ‘n shit , but at what cost ?”
His outburst makes Kiyoomi chuckle again and yeah, he’s fucking done for . “So your brother found someone that makes him enjoy where he’s at? Sounds like you should be happy for him,” teases Kiyoomi.
“ Technically , Suna was my friend first.” Atsumu makes a sound in the back of his throat, face twisting up in disgust. “But apparently friendship wasn’t enough and he had to stoop to the lesser twin to get his dick wet.”
“God, there’s two of you?”
“Lucky you, huh?”
“Sure.” Kiyoomi takes a long sip from his mug and pointedly looks away from Atsumu. After a moment, “Quit making that face.”
Atsumu contorts his face even more, just to spite him. “Maybe you oughta take some notes. Yer not bein’ a very charitable date, you know.”
“Guess you’ll have to show me then, won’t you.” Kiyoomi bites lightly at his bottom lip, face considering. Atsumu considers his chances of getting hit if he were to swoop in now and kiss them.
“I guess so.”
A few seconds pass and Kiyoomi takes out his phone and Atsumu watches the little green bird charm dangling from it. “Motoya has the matching one. He insisted.”
“Cute,” Atsumu coos, dodging the crumpled up napkin that gets thrown at him. He leans down to pick it up, and when he sits up, Kiyoomi is holding his phone out towards him.
“This is what I do for a living.”
He seems almost bashful, but Atsumu can’t understand why because each of the photos he scrolls through showcase gorgeous mural after gorgeous mural—sprawling designs on the outside of buildings, adorable window designs, paintings that span from wall to wall inside people’s homes and pull everything together. “This is amazing . What the hell, Omi? I’m impressed!”
“Hang on—what are you doing?”
Atsumu peeks up through his bangs and smiles. “I’m sending your socials to myself. I gotta show these off to Samu and Suna later.”
“Oh.”
Pausing, Atsumu worries his lip between his teeth, a wave of doubt rushing over him. Maybe it was a little presumptuous and rude to just…do that. Maybe— “...unless you don’t want me to?”
Kiyoomi shifts in his seat and licks his lips. “No, it’s fine. Just. Make sure you add yourself into my contacts since you’re already helping yourself to my phone.”
Atsumu beams, nodding enthusiastically. “You got it, Omi-Omi. If you wanted my number so bad, you could have just asked.”
Heaving a put-upon sigh, Kiyoomi rolls his eyes and shakes his head, lips pursed. Atsumu can see right through him though—he’s amused and trying not to let Atsumu know that he’s won. He hands Kiyoomi back his phone, their fingers brushing in the process which leaves static swimming beneath his skin in the best and weirdest way. “There ya go, Omi-Omi. I’m trusting you.”
“Trusting me?” Kiyoomi deadpans.
“Of course,” Atsumu winks, shrugging his shoulders. “Those are highly sought after digits, ya know,” he says seriously. “You gotta keep ‘em safe’s all.”
Kiyoomi nods solemnly. “I don’t know if I want to take on that responsibility. I’m a busy guy. Maybe I should just delete them now?”
Mouth dropping open in dismay, Atsumu scoffs. “Omi-Omi…I thought we had something here.” He lifts a hand and places it over his heart, fingers splayed across the fabric. The solemn look on Kiyoomi’s face cracks, revealing a soft smile that leaves Atsumu’s mouth dry and blood rushing in his ears. “Hey, I have an idea.”
Standing up, Atsumu rounds the table to grab at Kiyoomi’s arm and pull him up by the elbow. He looks around the patio until he finds a suitable place—just off the side of the patio is a well-hidden gate that leads to what looks to be a small garden with flowers and trees and even a small pond. “Hell yeah. I thought I saw this earlier.”
He pulls them through the gate and hopes that Kiyoomi can’t feel the wetness of his palms through his shirt. “What are we doing?”
“A selfie to commemorate our first date.” Atsumu sits down on the two-person bench and tugs at Kiyoomi until he follows his lead. “It might be one of the most crucial parts of a successful date.”
“And here I was thinking it had to do with chemistry and similar interests.”
Beside him, Kiyoomi fidgets; it’s a tight fit on the bench and their legs press up firmly against each other, and when Kiyoomi twists to wrap his arm around Atsumu’s shoulder it leaves him frozen for a moment. He clears his throat, too afraid to speak lest the words come out all mixed up like his nerves, and leans into it as he aims his camera at them to snap the photo.
The picture is sweet, if not a little awkward, and Atsumu already knows he’s going to be spending an embarrassing amount of time looking at it as he reflects on every choice he made to get into this situation. He smiles and sends a copy of it to Kiyoomi’s phone. “Now you have one too.”
Before he can get another word out, he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket. He tries to ignore it—playing around on your phone during a date is rude , okay? But the buzzing is incessant, pausing for half of a second before it starts up again and again.
Pulling his phone out, he sees several missed texts and a missed call from Suna.
Suna Rintarou (🤧😡):
Yo you still picking my sister up?
Tsumu
Hey idiot what are you even doing right now
Rukia (the better Suna):
Where are you?
We talked about this yesterday????
I can't believe you forgot
[Rukia (the better Suna) has sent an image]
"Shit," Atsumu says, a groan spilling from his throat. How could I have forgotten about that?
“...everything okay?” Kiyoomi asks carefully.
“ Yeah . Everything’s fine. I’m just an idiot.” Carding his fingers through his hair roughly, Atsumu stuffs his phone back into his pocket and stands up. He offers an apologetic smile to Kiyoomi and shuffles from foot to foot where he stands, feeling completely torn. “I’m gonna have to cut our date short.”
He laughs, awkward and too-loud. “I forgot that I told Sunarin I’d pick up his sister from the station.”
“Oh.”
The only thing soothing the disappointment that’s swimming in Atsumu’s chest is the disappointed turn of Kiyoomi’s mouth, the corners of his lips turned downwards in an adorable pout. “Yeah, I’m really sorry, Omi-Omi.”
That earns him an eye roll, but that does nothing to stop the swoop of affection that rushes through him at the tiny smile now painting Kiyoomi’s face.
“I’ll forgive you this time.” Kiyoomi taps the top of his notebook subtly. “Just know that if it happens again then it will be used against you in the final tally of your points.”
Atsumu laughs again and rocks back on his heels with a nod. “Don’t you worry, Omi-Omi. I’ll have you swoonin’ in no time. Catch ya later.”
“So,” Rukia starts, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl stuffed between her and Atsumu’s legs and tossing it into her mouth. Cheeks stuffed full, she continues, “let’s talk about how you’re going to repay me for making me wait earlier.”
Atsumu wipes the butter and salt from his fingers on the robe he found hanging in Suna’s bathroom earlier, not looking away from the TV. He can barely see it from the way they are slouched so low against the bottom of the couch, but he knows there is a hot guy fighting with a sword that he doesn’t wanna miss a second of. “ Repay you ? What about all those wrappers at yer feet? And that fancy mask on yer face that smells like a damn field of flowers.”
If he wasn’t afraid of his own mask cracking, Atsumu would glare at Rukia. He whips around when several pieces of popcorn assault his face. “What was that for?”
“First of all,” she crosses her legs at the ankle and stretches her arms high above her head, “these are from Rin’s collection of fancy face shit. Secondly, I know for a fact these snacks came from Samu. These are delicious and neither you or my brother have any taste.”
Atsumu scoffs and turns back to the TV. “Well Sunarin and Samu owe me . So we’re all even now I guess.” He crosses his arms and slides and grabs a fistful of popcorn and gnashes it between his teeth. “Besides, I had a date.”
“You got someone to agree to that torture?”
“Yer just as awful as yer brother, y’know that?” Atsumu shoves his elbow into her side which results in a scuffle that almost upends their bowl of popcorn. Thankfully, only a few kernels spill and Atsumu tosses them at Rukia’s face.
Rukia pinches at his neck in retaliation but leaves it at that as she resettles beside him. “Why’d you schedule a date the exact time you had to come get me, idiot? Though, maybe you did them a favor…”
“It was a blind date.” All too late, Atsumu realizes that he probably shouldn’t have mentioned the date. He should have kept it to himself. Definitely shouldn’t have told Rukia who loves good gossip even more than her brother. This is bad…
Dark green eyes laser in on him, narrowed in thought. “A blind date?”
“That’s what I said, ain’t it?”
"Who set you up? Do I know them?"
“Why do you care so much?”
“Can’t a girl ask about her annoying brother-in-law’s date?”
“I guess you could except we aren’t in-laws.”
“Practically.”
Atsumu rolls his eyes. He should just make something up. The more he denies her answers, the more she’ll want to push.
“I’m just curious! It’s not like you to be so shy.” Rukia plops herself in front of Atsumu, squished between his crossed legs and the coffee table. There is a scary glint to her eyes and as she leans closer and closer into his space, Atsumu feels like a little prey with nowhere to escape. “Or maybe you made it all up."
“You think I’m that desperate or something?”
Lifting her eyebrows, Rukia shrugs. "I think you're an idiot."
"Well this idiot's lips are sealed."
"What an unfortunate miracle." Patting Atsumu's knees, Rukia stands up and stretches with a long yawn. "Keep your secrets then, I guess. I'm tired as hell which means it's time for me to claim Suna's bed before he can make me sleep on the lumpy futon out here."
"Night."
The next morning, Atsumu blinks his eyes slowly, the heavy lids threatening to fall back shut each time as his brain clings to the last traces of sleep. He groans, knowing that it’s too early without even having to look. A flash of bright light burns his eyeballs and he squeezes them shut with a groan. “What the—”
“Morning, Tsumu.”
When small dots are no longer staining the backs of his eyelids, Atsumu glares at Suna. Or what he can make out of what he assumes is Suna in the dim light of the room. “What the hell , man? You better delete that.”
“Not likely.” Suna’s fingers tap with lighting speed against his keyboard, the brightness of his screen now illuminating him and showing off the giant grin on his face. He slides off of his spot in the armchair and stretches his long legs out, nearly kicking Atsumu in the chin in the process. “I got a text this morning.”
“Congrats on still havin’ people who can stand yer bullshit. What’s that gotta do with me? I was tryin’ to sleep.” Yawning, Atsumu tries to roll over to his other side but is stopped by Suna throwing one of his freaky long legs across him. “ What ?” he grumbles.
“There’s a party tonight. You’re coming.”
“Who’s party?”
“A friend.” Suna doesn’t look up from his phone when he speaks. “You don't know them. We’re leaving at 7.”
“I never agreed to go.”
“You also never turn down free alcohol.”
"Don't you have a fuckin' boyfriend?" Atsumu grumbles. Leave it to Suna's rude ass to wake him up practically in the middle of the night and immediately demand favors of him. “Take Samu."
"As if I'd ask you as a first resort. Samu's feeling sick and can't go."
"Oh, he finally get sick of yer shit? Maybe I should spend tonight celebratin' with him instead—ow, you dick! That better not leave a mark!" Atsumu rubs at his arm where Suna pinched him roughly. Before Atsumu can retaliate, Suna is already at the front door and bending down to tie his tennis shoes. "I hope your run sucks , Sunarin!" he shouts as the door clicks shut.
"The hell are you yellin' for, Tsumu?" Samu's voice croaks from down the hall. "'m tryin' to sleep."
Flopping back down, Atsumu pulls his blanket back over his shoulders. “It’s always ‘ why are you yellin so loud’, Tsumu?’ and never ‘ gee, are you okay, Tsumu? What did Suna do to irritate you this time? ’” He squeezes his eyes shut in a desperate bid to fall back asleep. In his dreams, he doesn’t have to deal with his brother. Unfortunately, after several minutes, it’s clear that his dreams are long gone and sleep will not be happening for him.
When he picks up his phone, the time glares back at him. 7:33. Not quite ready to give into reality, Atsumu stays curled up beneath the fluffy comforter and scrolls through his socials with half-lidded eyes.
Then he sees a photo, posted by Suna 30 minutes ago, and he sits up with a huff, fingers flying across the keyboard.
Miya Atsumu:
🖕
DELETE THIS NOW YOU ASS
🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕
Miya Atsumu:
Hey
Got any plans today?
Omi-Omi:
Unfortunately.
[Omi-Omi has sent a photo]
Atsumu’s eyes widen and he feels suddenly grateful to be awake so early if it means that he gets to witness Kiyoomi with mussed hair, covered in splotches of paint that span down the front of him. There’s even a speck of paint high on his cheekbone that looks like it’s maybe from the paintbrush nestled behind his ear. Atsumu can’t see what Kiyoomi’s working on, but judging by what he can see from the mirror, it looks like he’s already in one of the studios on campus.
Atsumu Miya:
Damn.
Omi-Omi:
You can say that again. This project is killing me.
Atsumu Miya:
If you do die, at least you’ll die super hot 🙏
Are those coveralls?
Omi-Omi:
…
Did you actually need something or did you just wake up and choose annoyance?
Atsumu Miya:
In my defense
It’s not my fault your coveralls are distracting
I’m an innocent bystander
Omi-Omi:
Oh
So you did just wake up and choose annoyance
Atsumu Miya:
WAIT
I was just thinking…
If I recall correctly I’m supposed to be wooin you ;)
Omi-Omi:
And yet I remain un-wooed.
Atsumu Miya:
Just keep tellin yourself that ;)
ANYWAY,,,I know we just saw each other yesterday but
Any chance you wanna help me get out of some plans tonight? ;)
I’ll make it worth your while
In a totally non-creepy way
Omi-Omi:
Excuse me?
Miya Atsumu:
Don't make me beg
Omi-Omi:
As much as I'd rather see you, I have an obligation tonight.
Miya Atsumu:
No chance of getting out of it? :(
Omi-Omi:
Death might be the only way Motoya let's me skip out on the plans he made for us.
Miya Atsumu:
Damn
Omi-Omi:
Sorry.
Miya Atsumu:
It's okay ;)
I guess this just means you owe me
Omi-Omi:
🤨😐
“Bokkun!” Atsumu shouts when he notices the familiar face passing by. It takes a second for Bokuto to find the source of the noise, his head swiveling around as he surveys the crowd of people, but as soon as he recognizes Atsumu, his face lights up. He beelines for Atsumu, nearly barrelling over a couple of guys in the process, but they don’t seem too mad about it when he offers them an apologetic smile.
Judging by their moon-eyed looks, they’d probably let him get away with a lot worse. Atsumu scoffs and shakes his head, lips curling up into a smile—what good are Bokuto’s smokin’ hot looks when all he cares about is Akaashi and volleyball.
“Tsum-Tsum! I didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight. Having a good time?”
The arm that Bokuto swings around his shoulders is heavy and it knocks the breath out of him. He wheezes. “It’s real fun, Bokkun.” Atsumu grabs his cup and lifts it before taking a drink. “Whatever’s in this drink is fuckin’ great.” He steps out from under Bokuto’s arm and looks around the room once more, hopeful that this time he’ll find his target. “Hey—you haven’t happened to see Sunarin skulkin’ around here anywhere, have ya?”
“Uh…” Bokuto squints, lips pursed comically, and he brings one hand to rest on his cocked hip. “I think I saw him with Komori earlier saying something about fireworks out in the garage but I don’t really know where they would be now.”
“That would be great if I knew who the hell Komori was.”
“He’s got the—” Someone calls out for Bokuto and he twists in their direction, face lighting up when he recognizes them. “Y’know. Eyebrows,” he finishes, voice distracted; he points his index fingers at his eyebrows and pulls up, eyes going wide for a split second, as if that is supposed to clear anything up.
All Atsumu can do is stare, face twisting in confusion, but Bokuto isn’t even looking at him anymore…“Was that s’posed to make any sense?”
“Huh? Sorry, Tsum Tsum—” Bokuto’s arms fly up in the air, hand waving in exaggerated motions. He turns fully now, his other hand cupping his mouth as he lets out an excited holler. “Is that Kenma I see? How’d you manage that one, Kuroo?—I’m sorry, Tsumu, what were we talking about?”
Shaking his head, Atsumu shoves at Bokuto’s shoulder and laughs. “Doesn’t matter, man. I’ll see ya around.” The words have barely left Atsumu’s mouth before Bokuto is descending upon Kenma across the room.
Atsumu steps out into the hall and follows it until he sees a large sliding door that leads to the backyard. It looks like there were people hanging out there earlier, judging by the cups and chairs scattered around the small patio, but they are gone now. There’s a small garage further back in the yard, a dim, yellow light shining from the small window, and Atsumu wonders if maybe that’s where Suna has run off to.
He’s pretty sure he saw a gate earlier that will take him out to the garage if he just follows the path around the corner of the house, but it’s a lot darker now; on his next step, his foot connects with some sort of weird yard decoration and it leaves his toe throbbing as he drops to a kneel, mumbling obscenities under his breath.
Giving himself a moment for his toe to stop hurting, he stays kneeled there on the ground. As soon as the pain is gone, he stands with a huff—looking for Suna is turning out to be a lot more damn work than it’s worth. If he’s not in the garage, Atsumu may very well say fuck it and head home without him.
Rounding the corner, Atsumu screeches and stumbles backwards clumsily when he collides with something solid. He flails his arms in a desperate bid to not fall on his ass, but still winds up on the cold ground anyway “What the hell?” he squawks; the bright light of a cell phone flashlight burns his eyeballs and forces them shut. “Get that outta my face!”
No matter how many times he blinks, he can’t get the white spots to disappear. He glowers at what he’s assuming is the shadowy figure of the jerk who knocked him over. “Y’know, usually when people knock someone over, they offer to help ‘em up—”
“Atsumu?”
That voice…
Atsumu’s jaw slackens, eyes going wide. “Omi-kun?” Kiyoomi reaches out and hauls Atsumu up by his shirt, and if his heart wasn’t racing before it sure is now . He swallows, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. This close, and with his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Atsumu can just make out the confused look on Kiyoomi’s face, probably a mirror of the one on his own. “Thought I was s’posed to be the one sweepin’ you off yer feet?”
The words roll off his tongue before he realizes that he’s opened his mouth again; if they were tangible things, Atsumu would be hurriedly kicking at them until they were hidden in the shadows thrown from the house—out of sight, out of mind—but unfortunately they aren’t and he has to live with the fact that he’s an embarrassing idiot who can’t shut up for a second, especially in the presence of attractive men with big shoulders and pretty hair and—
“Maybe if you actually did some work I wouldn’t have to.”
—and the smile on Kiyoomi's face is small, but the chain reaction it sets off in Atsumu isn't. Atsumu scoffs, straightening up when Kiyoomi lets go of his shirt and slides his hands into the pockets of his joggers. Choosing to ignore the jab, he asks, "So...yer here?"
Kiyomi nods and Atsumu notices the bag slung around his shoulder for the first time that night when he flexes his fingers on the strap. "Unfortunately."
"Oh. Plans with yer cousin not work out?" Atsumu crosses his arms and tries not to shiver when a cool breeze floats by. "You should've let me know and I could've bailed."
"These were my plans. Motoya felt like socializing and made it my problem. I managed to escape for a bit but realized I didn't have my laptop charger and had to come back for it." Gesturing to his bag, Kiyoomi's neutral face transforms, eyes narrowing in thought. "What are you doing here? Motoya didn’t say anything about you coming."
Atsumu blanches, clicking his teeth together. Well he probably wouldn’t, considering how he doesn’t actually know who I am. He can’t say that though so he searches for something witty to say; any reply his brain was in the process of formulating is cut off by the appearance of several voices moving towards them. This seems to startle Kiyoomi for some reason, and he makes a grab for Atsumu’s hand.
“You still wanna get out of your plans?” he shoots over his shoulder, pulling Atsumu back towards the house without waiting for any sort of reply.
That’s fine with Atsumu though because he’s too busy staring at Kiyoomi’s hand at the moment to put any sort of brain function towards speaking. It’s hard to think about anything besides the way Kiyoomi’s long fingers encircle his palm and the weight of cool metal that has to be rings or some sort of jewelry. It’s a miracle that he’s not drooling , to be honest.
Once inside, they are able to skate through the party without being stopped by anyone, though it looks like Bokuto maybe wanted to before he became too distracted by Akaashi standing off against Kenma and the shots lined up in front of them. Kiyoomi guides them up a set of stairs that are tucked into a corner just past where the main congregation of the party is and it’s immediately quieter up here, though the bass of the music can still be felt.
Kiyoomi hasn’t let go of his hand yet even though they seem to have escaped unscathed, but Atsumu has no intention of mentioning that. “Where are we goin’ exactly?” he asks instead. It’s not exactly dark up here, but the only source of light currently is a string of yellow lights lined along one side of the hall.
“My room. I still need my charger.”
“Your room?”
Stopping in front of one of the doors a little ways down the hall, Kiyoomi turns to look over his shoulder and looks at Atsumu like he has two heads. “Yes?” Unfortunately, when he pushes inside of the room, he lets go of Atsumu’s hand and Atsumu tries his best not to mourn the loss. Maybe Atsumu shouldn’t have had that last drink because even for him that’s a little pathetic.
In order to combat that, he plops down on the bed—apparently Kiyoomi’s—and busies himself with his phone. When he opens up Instagram, the first thing he sees, posted less than five minutes ago, is a selfie of Suna and some guy that Atsumu can vaguely remember meeting in passing once or twice. They are each holding up a piece of paper with crudely drawn faces, and upon further inspection he realizes that those are definitely his and Kiyoomi’s faces.
The captions reads:
LOST: Our idiots 😔
This is what they look like. As you can see 😱 this situation is dire. Look at Atsumu. No 🧠 in sight. 🧐 If found, please return to myself or @motoya_ 🙏
The gears in Atsumu’s brain begin to turn slowly, things he had missed earlier falling into place. I’m screwed. He groans, tossing his phone to the bed and bringing his thumb up to his lip to bite at the nail there. Kiyoomi pauses his rummaging in one of his desk drawers and turns towards Atsumu at the sound and that’s when Atsumu notices, for the first time since they literally ran into each other earlier, the dark lines running up and down the entire expanse of Kiyoomi’s arms and even leading beneath the collar of his loose t-shirt. Jesus Christ, I’m really fucking screwed.
“Are you…okay?” Kiyoomi hesitates, voice bordering on confusion. He puts his charger back on top of his desk and walks over to Atsumu.
“Yeah.” The squeak Atsumu lets out is embarrassing, but not any worse than the shitstorm he’s already got himself into, so what’s one more thing, really? “Everything’s great .”
Kiyoomi lifts an eyebrow and places one hand against Atsumu’s forehead, gently pushing his bangs out of the way. “Are you sure? You’re looking a little flushed. Do you need some water?”
Rather than answering his question, Atsumu takes Kiyoomi’s wrist in hand and gives a light tug, pulling him just a little closer. It leaves Kiyoomi towering over him, but all things considered, Atsumu can think of a few worse fates. “You know, Omi-Omi, inviting a man up to your room under the guise of somethin’ else has some implications.” He waggles his eyebrows for effect. “Maybe you have some ulterior motives for getting me up here all alone.”
“Yeah? And what might those be?” Kiyoomi deadpans. He hasn’t stepped away though. From here Atsumu can see two tiny scars on either side of his bottom lip and the thought of Kiyoomi with tattoos and piercings is just too much for his brain to handle. No matter how many times he tries to pull his eyes towards Kiyoomi’s they don’t stay there for long.
He may be strong, but he doesn’t know if he’s that strong…Atsumu rolls his bottom lip between his teeth and swallows roughly. “I’m just sayin’. Kind of seems like you wanna kiss me. I don’t blame you.”
“You’re the one who can’t stop looking at my mouth.” Kiyoomi leans in closer, pushing Atsumu back until he’s leaning on his elbows. Atsumu feels his eyes widen, mouth parting open at being caught out. “You sure you’re not just projecting?”
“ You’re the one walkin’ around lookin’ all sexy and tatted !” Too late does Atsumu realize that it wasn’t a denial. He watches as Kiyoomi’s mouth forms the words sexy and tatted without making a sound.
“I’m wearing joggers and a t-shirt .”
Atsumu pulls one arm from under himself and gestures to Kiyoomi’s bicep. “ And tattoos! You didn’t tell me you had fuckin’ sleeves.”
When Atsumu sees the look of confusion on Kiyoomi’s face transform into a smirk he wants to be mad, but the only thing he can manage to be is extremely turned on. It’s an awful, terrible, embarrassing misfortune on his part. “Oh, I see…what is it that you said?” He pauses, pressing forward until their noses are almost touching and Atsumu’s hand falls to grasp at his arm. In a twang that sounds eerily like Atsumu’s, he continues, “You wanna kiss me so bad you look stupid?”
He doesn’t give Atsumu any time to react—their lips meet in a fierce kiss. At first, Atsumu doesn’t know what’s happening, but before Kiyoomi can pull away, he grabs his shirt more firmly and kisses back with all he has. It leaves him feeling like he’s caught fire in the best way and whenever Kiyoomi pulls back for air, Atsumu follows him.
One of Kiyoomi’s hands cards through Atsumu’s hair, mussing his locks and scratching lightly at his scalp. It takes everything in Atsumu not to whine, but he holds back because he’s pretty sure he’s been embarrassed enough tonight.
Just when Kiyoomi slots a knee between Atsumu’s legs and he has half a second to panic about that , the door bursts open and the guy from Suna’s picture earlier slides through shouting, “Kiyoomi! You in here?”
“Motoya,” Kiyoomi grunts. “I’m a little busy.”
Motoya, to his credit, seems unfazed by the glower being aimed his way. Atsumu can’t say that he would fare as well if he were in his shoes. “I can see that,” he says. “I thought you might have snuck away since your lover boy decided to show up tonight, but I see that’s not the case.”
A bright grin splits his lips and he lets out a loud laugh, cocking his hip against the doorframe. There is a brief moment where he takes out his phone to rapid-fire type something out but then his eyes, full of mirth, fly back to Atsumi and Kiyoomi. “This sure is an interesting development. I thought you had a good time with Ushijima?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Atsumu would very much like to die now. If someone would like to strike him down, here and now, he would be happy to leave this world with his last memory being Kiyoomi on top of him and the taste of his mouth on his lips. There really are worse ways to go, when you think about it.
“No shade or anything. I’m a little proud, if I’m being totally honest.”
Motoya laughs again which only seems to irk Kiyoomi even more. Atsumu wasn’t aware that you could simultaneously be in heaven and hell. This irritated Kiyoomi is sexy as fuck, but at what cost . Kiyoomi moves next to Atsumu on the bed and levels his cousin with a serious look that urges him to get to the point.
“All I’m saying is if you had such a good time on your date with Ushijima the other day, why are you in here locking lips with Atsumu ?”
“I literally have no idea who Ushijima is.”
“Seriously?” Pulling out his phone again, Motoya loads up a picture of a guy—tall, muscular, and clean-cut. Someone who definitely seems to have their shit together, and Atsumu almost feels bad that he swooped in and got in the middle of it… almost —and says, “The guy you went on a date with literally less than two days ago. I’m not understanding your confusion, my guy. How much have you had to drink?” He shakes his head and laughs.
Atsumu just shakes .
Kiyoomi looks towards Atsumu; he can feel the weight of his gaze on the side of his face, but he studiously avoids it. “I’m not following your confusion.” He gestures to Atsumu and bumps their legs together. “My date was with him. How much have you had to drink? The whole thing was your idea in the first place.”
Turning slightly out into the hall, Motoya calls down the hall, “Sunarin, come here! You’re never gonna believe this!”
Atsumu groans loudly, head rolling back and he brings one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He knows the second that Suna joins them before he even opens his mouth to drawl, “Well, well, well.”
“Shut yer trap, Sunarin. Yer a fuckin’ menace.” Atsumu flips him off and he can feel the bed shake with Kiyoomi’s quiet laughter. It soothes the embarrassment a little, and when he turns his head he finds that Kiyoomi is already looking at him, eyes soft at the corners.
“I can’t believe this, Rin.” Cackling, bent over at the waist with his hands on his knees, Motoyo cackles and wipes away a tear. “Kiyoomi here says he went on a date with Atsumu.”
“You’re kidding?” Suna shoots Atsumu a knowing look. “How the hell did you swing Kiyoomi? He’s hot .”
Atsumu sits up and scoffs, affronted, pointing a finger at Suna who is now stepping further into the room. He leans against Kiyoomi’s desk and Atsumu kind of wants to snatch the notebook he’s turning around in his hands and smack him with it. “It’s none of yer business! Jealous that you couldn’t score someone as hot as him?”
“I don’t think you need me to point out just how stupid just sounded.”
“Yeah, well you always sound stupid. I feel bad for Samu for havin’ to put up with yer ass—”
“Will someone just tell me what’s going on?” Kiyoomi interrupts. “Put that down.” He doesn’t quite snap it, but it’s a near thing. When Atsumu looks at him, his cheeks are dusted in a rosy pink.
Atsumu coos. “Aww. Omi-Omi…are you blushin’? That’s adorable.”
Kiyoomi’s glare makes something hot rush through him and he bites at his lip, eyes wide. Wow, he’s fucking hot . I’m done for. He’s snapped out of it when Motoya, who has finally calmed down enough to speak, pipes up with, “Well, dear Omi-Omi , this fine fellow in front of you—” Atsumu does toss a lone piece of candy he finds stuffed in his pockets at Suna when he snorts “—is Atsumu Miya. I’m sure you know that though.”
Kiyoomi nods, eyes narrowed. “Yeah, obviously.”
“Atsumu Miya is not who I set you up with. The man I set you up with is one Wakatoshi Ushijima.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I.” Motoya’s grin widens and another laugh bubbles out of him. “So, Atsumu…wanna explain how you ended up on the date with my cousin instead of the fine, upstanding man downstairs?”
The room is quiet, all eyes on Atsumu now; he refuses to meet Kiyoomi’s stare, choosing instead to focus intently on rolling a loose string he pulled from his pants between his fingers. He opens his mouth several times, but it’s no use because no words come out. “Uh…” he stutters after a few more seconds.
“Get out,” Kiyoomi says.
Atsumu’s head snaps up, eyes wide, but Kiyoomi isn’t looking at him anymore. He looks bored as he stares down Suna and Motoya. They don’t show any signs of moving, Motoya and Kiyoomi seemingly having a discussion via heated looks and eyebrow movements, but after a few more seconds, Motoya signs and shakes his head. “Fine,” he complains. “Ruin my fun.”
“Happily.”
Suna laughs and claps his hands. “Classic Tsumu…always getting yourself into trouble no one can save you from.” He salutes them and starts for the door before pausing and looking over his shoulder. To Kiyoomi, he says, “Don’t kill him.”
The grunt he gets in reply isn’t reassuring at all but Suna doesn’t seem to bothered, the fucker. Atsumu’s palms are wet and he chews at his bottom lip nervously. I’m such an idiot. What the hell? He looks up just in time to see the dark look on Kiyoomi’s face when he closes the door after Suna and Motoya make their exit. He’s either gonna murder me or never talk to me again and, at this point, I really don’t know which one would be preferable…
“Atsumu.”
Snapping his head back towards his lap, Atsumu clenches his fists on his thighs. “Listen, Omi—”
“Look at me.”
“—maybe I should leave too? I really don’t know what I was even thinking, to be honest. You’re clearly—”
“Would you shut up and look at me?”
Atsumu barely hears Kiyoomi speaking, too concerned with getting out of there as quickly as possible. It’s not fair, really, but he doesn’t know if he can sit here and explain in detail , the way that Kiyoomi probably wants and deserves, just how much of an idiot he is. Who even pretends to be someone’s date in the first place. What a weird fucking creep thing to do. “I just, y’know, thought that you—”
A hand grips his chin and forces him to look up. “Atsumu. Shut up.”
He doesn’t think his mouth has ever closed quicker.
“You might be the dumbest guy I’ve ever met—”
“Listen, Omi. I totally get if ya don’t wanna talk to me again. It was real shitty of me to do that and—”
Kiyoomi’s lips on his sends his heart into overdrive; Atsumu’s eyes widen and his breath stutters in his throat. It takes his brain a second to catch up, but when it does, he reaches out and wraps his arms around Kiyoomi’s neck, confused but happy nonetheless. He tilts his head, sighing at the gentle scratch of fingers at the back of his head.
“I thought I told you to shut up,” Kiyoomi mutters. The bed creaks beneath them as Kiyoomi crawls on top of Atsumu and Atsumu feels his face heat up. Kiyoomi pulls away, a little out of breath with his dark bangs hanging loose over his eyes only making him look even more like an angel than he already did. “If you’re ready to let me talk, I’d like to finish what I was saying.”
Atsumu nods. Whatever keeps Kiyoomi here for just a little longer. He’s not exactly looking forward to the walk of shame and listening to the shit Suna is gonna give him. At least this mortification has the added benefit of being dealt by Kiyoomi.
“You might be the dumbest guy I’ve ever met, but …god fucking help me, you worked your magic and I’m—” Kiyoomi makes a face, scrunching his nose and furrowing his brows “— charmed by you it would see. You’ve wooed me.” He laughs and shakes his head, lips turning up the tiniest bit at the corners.
Atsumu’s mouth pops open. “So…what are you saying?” he hesitates.
“I guess I’m saying,” Kiyoomi leans down and presses a slow, lingering kiss to Atsumu’s lips that has him following him as he pulls away, “that I kind of like you. And I guess I guess you’ve officially earned seeing what else is on The List.”
“The list?”
“The List.” Atsumu sits up when Kiyoomi stands, watching him as he grabs the notebook that Suna had been fiddling with earlier; he flips through the pages until he finds what he was looking for. That’s when it clicks.
“ Oh . The List .”
Kiyoomi walks back over to him and dumbs the book in his lap unceremoniously. Now he’s the one avoiding Atsumu’s eyes. It takes .2 seconds for Atsumu to grab the book and open it to the right page, digging in with greedy eyes, the tip of his tongue sticking out of his lips. It’s impossible to fight the grin that forms on his face.
“Aw, Omi-Omi. This is precious!” Atsumu leans into Kiyoomi’s space and pinches at his cheek only to be nipped at, Kiyoomi’s face turning as murderous as it is flushed. It only eggs him on. “You coulda just told me you liked me. What’s with the hard-to-get game?”
“Wasn’t sure how a giant head would look on you.” Kiyoomi pauses, pretending to consider something as he looks at Atsumu. “And you know, my assumptions were right…fucking awful .” He snatches the notebook back and pretends to write something down.
Atsumu whines, each attempt to grab the book back from Kiyoomi failing. “C’mon. Yer gonna hurt my feelings.”
“Maybe it’s what you deserve for lying . Who even does that?”
“ Maybe more people should be opportunistic like me. Besides, you can’t even say shit…ya already said you like me. No take backs.”
When Kiyoomi still refuses to give up the book, Atsumu huffs, deflating. He shifts closer until he’s practically sitting in Kiyoomi’s lap. “Y’know, Omi-Omi. I have a better idea.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“We could make out some more.” Atsumu walks his fingers gently across Kiyoomi’s leg, reveling in the shiver he feels wrack through him.
Kiyoomi turns towards him and swipes his tongue across his lips, wetting them. He grabs Atsumu’s hand and twines their fingers together, pulling Atsumu with him as he leans back against the mattress. “I think that’s the first smart thing you’ve said all night…”
Atsumu squats down on the floor, shaking a rope toy from side to side as the newest addition at the shelter—a young lab mix with big eyes and chocolate fur—chases after it eagerly, narrowly missing Atsumu’s fingers every third lunge for the toy. “Alright, alright. You win,” he says, laughing and settling on the ground with his back against the wall. “I need a break.”
He wipes the sweat from his brow, sliding his hands back through his hair and letting out a breath. The morning has been spent cleaning out all of the pens and taking the dogs for walks and he feels disgusting. It’s always a bit of an awful, sweaty time, but it’s made worse after a late night of drinking and no sleep. Grabbing the water bottle sitting just a few inches away, he uncaps it and takes a long swig.
Opening up his texts, he finds an unopened one from Osamu.
Osamu:
This you, idiot? I can’t believe youre related to me
[Samu has sent a link]
@suna_rin : 📍FOUND! In a surprising and hilarious turn of events 😱 our idiots have been found…TOGETHER! 🤭😉Anyone up for a story time? I’d be willing to spill (or not 😉) for the right price. @tsum_tsum the choice is yours.
Atsumu stares at the picture of him and Kiyoomi from last night, sitting on the bed together, red-faced and awkward. Taking a deep breath, Atsumu smacks his head against the wall. How Suna managed to get a picture of him and Kiyoomi
@tsum_tsum: when the hell did you even take this picture asshole. DELETE IT NOW.
Atsumu Miya:
Hope youre ready to look for a new boyfriend
because i’m gonna fucking murder his ass
What do you even see in him?
Osamu:
What the hell tsumu lmao
Good job i guess
Atsumu Miya:
Thanks
I’m still murdering sunarin’s ass
Osamu:
Or you could leave that to me
[Atsumu Miya has blocked Osamu Miya]
Atsumu looks at the dog who has settled down at his feet, happily chewing on the blue rope, and says, “I can’t do it anymore, Maru.”
His phone lights up with an incoming call. He smiles when he sees the caller-ID “Hey, Omi. What’s up?”
“Atsumu, how do you feel about going out tonight?” In the background, Atsumu can hear a voice that sounds very much like Suna’s, and when his cackle comes through the line, Atsumu winces.
“Is that Suna?”
Kiyoomi clicks his teeth. “ Yeah . He stayed the night. Apparently he and Motoya had a lot of catching up to do.”
Whistling, Atsumu pretends to think about it. “I don’t know, Omi…my schedule is kinda packed for something so last minute.”
“Atsumu—”
“But I suppose I can make an exception for my boyfriend. As long as he promises to wear short sleeves again. My apartment gets kinda hot, y’know. Wouldn’t want ya to get uncomfortable or anything.”
“I’m sure,” Kiyoomi deadpans. “But fine. Whatever gets me away from these two.”
Atsumu laughs, a smile blooming across his face. “See you at 6?”
“Perfect. This might be enough to earn you a point in the Notebook.”
“Hell yeah.” Atsumu gives Maru a thumbs up but all he gets is a blank stare. “Hey, Omi,” he says before Kiyoomi can hang up the phone.
“Yeah?”
“...Don’t forget the t-shirt.”
“And you’ve lost that point. That’s impressive, Atsumu.”
“Just like your mus—”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Bye, Omi—”
[Atsumu Miya has unblocked Osamu Miya]
Atsumu Miya:
Hey asshole
Osamu Miya:
What
Atsumu Miya:
[Message failed to send]: Is it too soon to say I’m in love?