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Shoyo doesn’t snore when he’s asleep.
Given how vocal he is in essentially every other aspect of his daily life, at practice with the national volleyball team he and Tobio both play for, over lunch when he tells Tobio about dreams he had last night and gives his opinion on what ice cream flavor he would be if he were an ice cream flavor, at midnight as Tobio fills him, bites at his neck until Shoyo’s moaning and screaming. But while he’s sleeping, he’s strangely peaceful. Adorable.
Tobio loves it when he wakes up just a few minutes earlier than his husband so that he can run a gentle finger along Shoyo’s jawline and watch him sleep. Even when it’s raining, when the curtains are shut tight, when it’s early enough that it’s dark outside, Shoyo’s skin is sunkissed. His lips are pink and full. They’re parted a little bit as silent air swirls around his chest. Tobio can see how long Shoyo’s eyelashes are when his eyes are closed, dark and beautiful in contrast to how light the rest of his features are. Beautiful.
His cheeks are glowing in an especially breathtaking way this morning. Maybe it’s the sunlight drifting through the open window above their bed, but Tobio knows it’s more than that. He brushes his lips over Shoyo’s forehead as he brings a hand to Shoyo’s stomach. He slips his hand underneath the oversized t-shirt Shoyo sleeps in every night, feeling how warm and delicate his skin feels. Shoyo shifts in his sleep and nibbles on his lip a little bit. It takes more than that to wake him up these days.
Tobio thinks he feels something move beneath his fingertips, not exactly like a kick, but more like a tap. Hesitant. Saying hello.
It has been 11 months since their wedding and 9 months since Shoyo got pregnant.
Tobio’s been awake for fifteen minutes, running his fingers through Shoyo’s hair and over his skin because Shoyo told him he likes waking up slowly to that feeling, that it makes him feel loved all over. Shoyo would be awake by now normally. He’s been sleeping in late for a few months, though, ever since he entered his third-trimester. All he’s been able to do is sleep and eat way too much and complain when Tobio tells him that he better not be practicing by himself while Tobio’s with the team. Taking a break from volleyball has been the hardest part for Shoyo.
“Only a little bit longer.” Tobio whispers.
Shoyo wakes up with his head buried in Tobio’s chest about half an hour later. He yawns, squirms, rubs his eyes. He runs his hands over his stomach like he does every morning, like he does every five minutes, as if he’s checking to make sure he’s still pregnant. It’s still hard for both of them to believe.
“Morning.” Tobio says gently, rubbing his hands into Shoyo’s sore back (his back is always sore).
“Mmm, g’morning. I’m still tired.” Shoyo sighs.
“You slept 14 hours.”
“It doesn’t feel like it. I feel like I got hit by a truck.”
“You say that every morning, babe.”
“Because I do!”
Tobio brings his nose to Shoyo’s neck, trying to smell Shoyo’s condition. Before he got Shoyo pregnant, Tobio was able to detect changes in Shoyo’s mood and get a sense of when his next heat was due by his smell, but not much else; all alphas can do that. But Shoyo’s scent has become more potent with information now that he’s expecting, although Tobio’s the only one who can tell; something about omegas being especially needy the closer they get to giving birth. With a deep inhale, Tobio can tell that Shoyo is hungry, ridiculously hungry like he is every time Tobio checks these days, he’s tired and touchy and doesn’t want Tobio to go anywhere anytime soon. His mood is relaxed with a twinge of perpetual stress about their baby. Nothing new.
“What can I do? What do you need?” Tobio asks into Shoyo’s hair.
“I just wanna sleep.” Shoyo yawns. “And for you to hold me tighter.”
“You’re hungry. Let me get you something to eat first.”
Shoyo grumbles but doesn’t object, snuggling into the covers as Tobio slips out of bed. Tobio leans down to kiss Shoyo’s head. He inhales deeply to figure out what Shoyo’s in the mood for. Tempura . Pork . Chocolate milk . Interesting.
On any other Thursday, Tobio would be getting ready for practice, but he took his leave a little over a month ago when his instincts to take care of Shoyo overrode everything else in their lives. His days consist of making sure Shoyo’s well-fed, warm, content, thoroughly massaged and cuddled, and he’s more than happy to oblige.
He’s only in the kitchen for five minutes starting to prepare Shoyo’s breakfast when he hears small noises coming from their bedroom, soft and pleading noises that Tobio has no choice but to tend to. Shoyo can only be separated from his alpha for a few minutes before his body starts to panic these days. Tobio sighs as he heads back to their bedroom.
“Shoyo, I’m here.” He climbs into bed, letting Shoyo immediately burrow into his arms. “What is it? Are you okay?” Shoyo smells like anxiety and hunger and neediness, but he’s calmer now that Tobio’s hands are on his back, in his hair.
“I missed you.” Shoyo mumbles.
Tobio blushes. They’ve known each other for eight years, been married for 11 months, and Tobio still blushes.
“I missed you, too, Shoyo.”
A few minutes pass. Shoyo nuzzles into Tobio’s collarbone. “I’ve been thinking about names. For our baby.”
“You have?”
Shoyo nods. It’s not like they haven’t talked about this before, but Shoyo had always insisted that the name would come to him when he saw their baby’s face. He doesn’t want to know the gender until the day of, too, although Tobio can smell it on him. It’s been hard keeping that part to himself.
“If it’s a boy, I like Kanji.”
Tobio just hums. He’s happy if Shoyo’s happy.
“And what about for a girl?”
Shoyo thinks for a moment.
“If it’s a girl…”
Piercing cries abruptly fill Tobio’s ears. He jolts up in bed, dragging the back of his hand over his eyes to rub the sleep from them.
“Shoyo?” He asks. His voice sounds deeper than usual, groggy from being awoken at 3:28 AM.
“I’m over here.” Shoyo replies softly. Another round of high-pitched sobs reverberate around their bedroom, drowning out Shoyo’s gentle shushing and pleading. Tobio fumbles with the bedside lamp.
Shoyo glows under the dim lamplight, his skin a supple pink and gold, his bed hair messy from days of sleep deprivation, the same oversized t-shirt he’s worn for a week over his small frame. He shifts the bundle in his arms, and a blissful smile finds his lips in spite of the noise. He looks exhausted, yet the way he looks down at that little bundle proves that it’s worth it, all of this is worth it.
Tobio ambles to Shoyo’s side. He puts his arm around him, nuzzles into Shoyo’s hair, joins him in admiring their baby.
“How long have you been up?” Tobio whispers.
“A couple hours. Ayumi couldn’t sleep. She only started crying a minute ago, though.”
It’s been a week since Shoyo gave birth. Tobio can’t decide if it feels like it’s been much longer than a week or much shorter. It feels like both.
A week since Tobio dropped a glass of milk when he smelled the beginnings of labor in the living room, Shoyo shouting out in pain mere moments later. Watching Shoyo writhe in a hospital bed was agonizing; Tobio couldn’t resist the urge to tend to his omega even though he had no idea how to help. The desire to keep everyone else away from Shoyo was the worst part, the strongest part, and he had to be restrained in a separate room. But it passed, and they brought home a bundle of energy a day later. A bundle of Ayumi.
As if she knows they’re talking about her, Ayumi’s cries dwindle into quiet babbling sounds and she wriggles under the pink blanket she’s wrapped in. She stares up at her parents with wide eyes, beautiful eyes the color of caramel, the same shade as Shoyo’s eyes. Her hair is the same texture as his hair, too, fluffy and soft and sort of wild, but it’s dark like midnight, the same shade as Tobio’s hair. Anyone could look at Ayumi and know that she’s their daughter.
Tobio caresses her cheek with his fingertip.
There isn’t a name for the emotion that swells in his whole being, an emotion that overwhelms him every time he looks at their daughter. Kageyama Ayumi.
“You never get tired, do you, Ayumi. You love your mom too much?” Tobio coos in a sweet voice that’s barely louder than a whisper.
Shoyo giggles. “I didn’t know you had a voice like that.”
“What does that mean?” Tobio scrunches his eyebrows, embarrassed.
“A cute voice. Even when we stop to pet cute dogs, you never use a cute voice. A baby voice, yknow?” Shoyo says. He suppresses a yawn.
“That’s because those dogs aren't as cute as Ayumi. Nothing’s as cute as Ayumi.... Except for you maybe.” Tobio mumbles.
“Bakageyama.”
“Don’t say that around our daughter.”
“And you shouldn’t call me a dumbass around her, either.”
“D-Dumbass...”
“Bakageyama.”
Some things never change.
“3, 2, 1... Smile!” The camera shutters as Shoyo takes another picture.
“Don’t you think we have enough?” Tobio asks. He taps Ayumi’s nose and grins when she squeals with laughter.
“Ayumi’s one month old today! We have to take a bunch of pictures to show her when she’s older. Now smile.” He commands as he raises the camera to his eyes. Tobio groans but complies. He carefully holds Ayumi up so that the outfit Shoyo picked out for her is on full display, a pastel pink onesie dotted with strawberries and a matching headband wrapped around black hair. With pink lips and chubby cheeks, she’s the epitome of adorable. Even still, Tobio doesn’t understand why 600 photos are necessary.
“Okay, now you take one of me and her.” Shoyo says. They trade, Tobio placing Ayumi in Shoyo’s arms and Shoyo handing the camera to Tobio.
“Um, are you ready?” Tobio asks.
Shoyo nods. “Yeah! Make sure it’s a good picture.”
“Obviously. Dumbass.”
He presses the button.
“Hey, you didn’t count down!”
“You said you were ready.”
“Bakageyama. You still have to say 3, 2, 1. Everyone knows that.”
Tobio tsks, but he raises the camera again and mumbles out a few numbers.
“Well? How does it look?” Shoyo adjusts Ayumi’s headband.
Tobio stares down at the little pixels, little orange and black and pink pixels. Their faces glow with good lighting and something Tobio can only assume is love. Ayumi inherited Shoyo’s smile; a closed-eye, crinkled, wide smile that fills their faces and leaves dimples that don’t show up on camera.
“Cute.” Tobio murmurs.
He makes a mental note to frame this one.
“And this is Ayumi!” Shoyo announces.
Koushi and Yuu crowd Shoyo, admiring Ayumi as if they’ve never seen a baby before, although they’ve probably never seen a baby this cute before. Keiji, Kenma, and Tadashi keep a bit more distance so as not to overwhelm Shoyo, but they watch with adoration in their eyes, too.
Tadashi looks over at Kei hopefully. He turns a bright shade of red.
“How old is she now, Shoyo?” Koushi asks.
“Two and a half months!”
“Can she talk yet? What was her first word? Was it volleyball?” Yuu asks.
“Babies can’t talk at two and a half months.” Keiji reminds him.
“It’ll probably be volleyball.” Yuu says.
Ayumi yawns, squirms closer to Shoyo, and all of the omegas in the living room think that’s just the sweetest thing. The alphas, gathered in the kitchen and avoiding glances from their husbands, watch from afar. Tobio can’t help but feel anxious with this many people in their small apartment after spending blissful months alone with Shoyo and their daughter. But this is what Shoyo wanted. He wanted to introduce Ayumi to their friends.
“Let me tell you, Tobio, that is one cute baby.” Tetsurou takes a swig of lemonade.
“I wholeheartedly agree. I’ve got baby fever just looking at her! Keiji says we should wait longer, though, but man, I want kids so bad. I want five sons and five daughters.” Koutarou says.
“Are you sure Keiji’s on board with that?” Daichi asks.
“I doubt it.” Kei mutters.
Tetsurou nudges him with a smirk. “What about you, Kei? Thinking about kids yet?”
“We… haven’t talked about it.” Kei clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “But I’m not opposed.”
Kei doesn’t think he said anything funny, but Tetsurou and Koutarou burst into a laughing fit that shakes the whole apartment.
Daichi ignores them. “Koushi and I are going to wait another year, but we’ve always wanted kids.” He turns to Asahi with an expectant look.
Asahi blushes, smiling a small smile as he rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, I guess I want kids. I know Yuu does… I just, you know, I worry that his body… He’s small…”
“It won’t be a problem.” Tobio says firmly. They all look at him. “I had the same worries about Shoyo, but his body handled it just fine. You would be surprised at how much they can take.”
Asahi looks relieved, and Kei sort of does, too.
Tobio looks back over at Shoyo and Ayumi, relishing in how his chest and heart swell at the two people he loves the most in the world. Shoyo meets his gaze. He can tell they’re both thinking the same thing.
He excuses himself as Koutarou and Tetsurou start on some long-winded joke they can’t even begin to tell because they’re already laughing too hard, and joins Shoyo on the couch. He kisses his cheek before leaning a little lower to kiss Ayumi’s nose. Shoyo nudges Tobio’s arm until he lifts it and lets Shoyo snuggle into him. Ayumi yawns again.
Tobio doesn’t know what he did to deserve this little family.