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The ball is slammed to the court with expert precision as the Black Jackals home crowd exploded in thunderous cheers.
“Go, Go, Sakusa! Fly, Fly, Sakusa!”
Atsumu watched in amusement as his spiker clenched his fist, the same way he did after every point. The grim line chiseled across his marble face was Sakusa’s feeble attempt at a smile.
Beating EJP in the regular season always gave Atsumu sick satisfaction. He reveled in the defeated glares Suna always cast in his direction through the net.
But this was the playoffs, and Atsumu was nearly on cloud nine.
The rest of the Jackals gently pounded their fists into Sakusa’s back in celebration. Atsumu felt a twinge of joy at how far his teammate has come in the last 6 months. He still slithered away from high fives and hugs, but slaps to the back pass the Sakusa Acceptability Test™️.
For everyone, except Atsumu that is.
For whatever reason, he had special permissions. When he brushed against Sakusa, there was no flinching. When he offered his arm to help lift Sakusa off the floor, there was no shrinking away.
He raised his hands for a high five and grinned when Sakusa slapped them. “Nicely done, Omi Omi.”
The corner of Sakusa’s lip turned upwards, just a tiny twinge of happiness. His eyes, however, were unreadable. “Thanks for the toss.”
Atsumu smiled. “Anythin’ fer our ace.”
He ignored the indignant squawks from Bokuto and Hinata behind him, opting to focus only on the faint pink dusting Sakusa’s cheekbones.
Atsumu was never really sure what it all meant. The slivers of affection that poked through the cracks in Sakusa’s mask. The mere allowance, no acceptance, of Atsumu’s fingers brushing against his skin.
Atsumu realized somewhere between Sakusa’s first tryouts and their first game against the Adlers that season, that he might, just might, have a crush on Sakusa.
Somewhere in the last month or so, a month of these welcomed touches and trace elements of fondness, he began wondering if Sakusa might, just might, like him back.
As he gathered his track jacket and bottle from the bench, he glanced up to see Sakusa still lingering. He was normally already showered and changing into street clothes by the time Atsumu made it into the locker room.
But there he was, taking a long sip out of his carefully labelled bottle (it had his name written on it, but the large yellow warning sticker was usually the dead giveaway it was his.) There he was, taking entirely too long to zip up his jacket. There he was, endlessly scrolling through his playlist looking for a song.
“Can I help ya Omi?” Atsumu pulled on his own jacket. “Ya lost?”
“Just thinking.” He averted his dark eyes.
"About?" Atsumu takes a careful step in Sakusa's direction.
Eyes still averted, a scowl graced his lips and Atsumu noticed his face was growing redder. "Nothing."
Another step. "Don't seem like nothin'."
"Your Japanese is terrible."
"And yer lyin' is terrible."
Sakusa's eyes swept over to meet Atsumu's. Deep crinkles formed between his furrowed brows. "This is not the scenario I had in mind."
"Fer what?"
He exhaled. "I want to kiss you." He says it in a disappointed voice with clenched teeth, as if he just announced his car needed to be towed.
"Oh, ho ho?" Atsumu's eyebrows raise. "Care to repeat that, Omi-kun~?"
Sakusa's eyes darken and somehow his eyebrows furrowed even deeper. Atsumu wondered if there was a limit. "If you keep being annoying, you'll never get this opportunity again."
Atsumu's posture goes ramrod straight as he salutes. "Yessir."
The blush on Sakusa's face deepened.
"We can't do it here, though." Atsumu gestured to the fans and staff still milling about in the stands. "Just one grainy cellphone vid and we'll be 'stanned' by half the country."
"Remember what I said about being annoying."
Atsumu snickered. "Meet me outside in the bathroom in th' player hallway in 5."
"Brush your fucking teeth."
Atsumu clicked his tongue in agreement.
"Sakusa-san~!" Atsumu found his spiker leaning against the wall. "Fancy meetin' you here."
Unamused, Sakusa grabbed his arm and pulled him into the bathroom. Atsumu watched him slide his hand into his jacket sleeve and attempt to open the door to the largest stall.
Locked.
They stand there in awkward silence, staring at everything but each other.
"Mmm…" A sound came from the stall.
Sakusa's eyes grew large, his lower lids twitching. "There's someone in there." He mouthed.
Atsumu grinned, raising two fingers before jabbing them in the stall's direction.
The smile was quickly wiped off his face when Suna Rintarou emerged from the bathroom stall, his dark brown hair a disheveled mess and eyeliner smudged.
"Su…" Atsumu started to say, stopped immediately when Suna's make out partner followed.
His eyes are immediately pulled to the purplish pink marks on his twin brother's askew neckline. Osamu's eyes were wide, paired with a tiny sheepish smile.
Suna winked. "See you later, 'Tsumu." He grinned as he grabbed Osamu's hand and led him out of the bathroom.
The door slammed shut and Atsumu felt his brain cells reboot.
"Miya."
He finally wills himself to look at his teammate. Sakusa had his hand in front of his mouth, quietly chuckling.
Atsumu would love to fully appreciate that downright adorable sound. But he was too busy contemplating his own pitiful existence.
"Omi-kun…"
Atsumu leaned back against the bathroom wall, head angled towards the ceiling. He figured maybe if he stared directly into the lights, he'd eventually go blind.
"I'm gonna need a raincheck on that kiss."