Chapter Text
If Osamu put more consideration into this, he probably could have predicted that Atsumu’s bachelor party would entail no less than three escape attempts and require more than one box of tissues for all the tears. Does this failure make him a bad best man? Maybe.
But that thought will have to wait. His current and biggest concern in this moment is that Atsumu is on his fourth escape attempt and he still can’t find him. Only Atsumu would insist on separate bachelor parties, get drunk, and then try to escape his “fiendish jailers” to spend the evening with his fiance, Sakusa Kiyoomi, instead. Osamu already checked all the routes he used earlier, none of which showed any sign of Atsumu.
Osamu shuts the window with a satisfying slam and grateful that, at the very least, they didn't find Atsumu attempting to scale the side of the hotel...again. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his black slacks and stalks back to the hotel bar.
“Any luck?” Suna says when he spots Osamu.
Osamu shakes his head and drops into the chair next to Suna.
“Have you tried calling Sakusa? Maybe he made it to his hotel room.”
Osamu groans because of course he already thought of that but Sakusa Kiyoomi is just as big of an unhelpful disaster as Atsumu. He shakes his head. “Nah, it went straight to voicemail.”
Suna pokes him in the shoulder. “Stop moping. Kita and Aran are still looking, if anyone other than you could find a rogue Atsumu, it’s probably them."
Osamu sighs and falls into the chair next to Suna. “Yeah.”
“It’s not like he’s a little kid, sure he’s a little bit drunk but Sakusa is staying in the same hotel. He can’t have gotten far.”
“Yea, I suppose.”
With Atsumu gone and Kita and Aran still looking for him, the remaining bachelor party has dwindled to nearly half of its original size. Barnes, Meian, and Omimi turned in an hour ago, and had Atsumu not run off, Aran and Kita probably wouldn’t have been too far behind them. Only Bokuto, Hinata, Gin, and Tomas remain, having bonded over some obscure reality TV show in the half-hour it's been since they lost Atsumu for the fourth time.
Osamu is too sober to deal with this but someone has to be the responsible one and he is Atsumu’s best man after all. Sober or not though, he still lost the groom he’s in charge of babysitting. Great, he’s a terrible best man and a terrible brother. He really hopes Kita and Aran find him or maybe he’ll wander back to the bar like how lost dogs find their way home in movies. The jury is still out on whether or not Osamu is going to kick him in the ass or hug Atsumu first whenever they do find him.
“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s probably wrong,” says Suna.
“And just what was I thinking?”
Suna hums and takes a sip of his beer, “well, your left eye was kind of twitching so I’m going to guess it was something along the lines of ‘woe is me, I’m a terrible brother and the worst best man and also I’m going to kick Atsumu’s ass the moment I see him.”
“I don’t know if I should be impressed or mad that ya just called me out like it was nothing.”
“You say that like I haven’t known you for ten years. You’re easy to read.”
“Our entire volleyball team has known me for ten years and I don’t think Aran coulda figured that out from an eye twitch.”
“Yeah, that was pretty spooky,” says a voice from behind them. Aran takes a seat on the other side of Suna. “I definitely couldn’t have figured that one out and I’ve known ya way longer than Suna has. You guys sure are, uh, close.” Aran laughs like he just told some clever joke.
Suna shrugs and finishes off the rest of his beer, tilting his head back and exposing the long column of his neck in the process. Osamu looks away and wishes once again that he is far less sober than his current state. It would make many things a lot easier.
“Is Kita still looking for that asshole?” says Osamu.
“Nah, he went back to our hotel room. Told me he’s certain Atsumu is just fine and that he was just lookin’ to give you a bit of peace of mind, sent me back to pass the message along."
“Ugh.”
Aran laughs. “The more things change, the more they stay the same. Well, if it’s all the same to you boys, I’m going to head back to the room. Don’t get too crazy down here.”
They wave goodbye as Aran heads for the elevators. Once he’s out of sight Osamu’s forehead hits the bar with a loud thunk.
“I wouldn’t worry,” Suna says. “Atsumu was putting on a show. I counted and he only had one drink in the last hour or so.”
“That bastard, he’s probably all cuddled up with Sakusa as we speak too fuckin’ in love to bother letting me know he’s alive and not dead on a sidewalk somewhere.”
“Be careful, wouldn’t want to sound bitter at your own brother’s bachelor’s party.”
“It’s not his bachelor party anymore, the bachelor party portion of this evening concluded after the second escape attempt.”
Suna hums and orders another drink from the bartender. “Here,” he pushes the glass toward him. “Where Atsumu fails you, José Cuervo will lift you back up.”
Osamu throws back the shot and tries not to think about his stupid lovesick brother. “Thank you, Mister Cuervo, but I’ll feel a lot better once we know where Atsumu ran off to.” They don't have to wait long.
“He’s fine,” comes a voice from behind them. Komori takes Aran’s seat.
“Aren’t you supposed to be with Sakusa?” says Suna.
“Oh, I jumped ship the moment Atsumu showed up. I have a sense of self-preservation.”
“Ah, sorry, Atsumu can be the worst sometimes. Reigning him in is impossible, at least when it comes to matters involving Sakusa. Sorry ya had to deal with him too."
“Honestly, it was a relief when Atsumu showed up pounding on the door, I was ready to booby trap the hotel room to keep Sakusa from crashing Atsumu’s bachelor’s party. It's a lot easier this way. Probably for all of us."
“Ew, they're disgustingly perfect for each other."
Komori nods. “Yeah, you're telling me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to with a bottle of red wine and one of the big armchairs in the lobby. At this point, I can only hope that I’ll be able to return to our hotel room tonight without risking witnessing something I’d really rather not.”
“Ah,” says Osamu. “That’s right, you were supposed to room with Sakusa tonight."
Komori nods looking mildly ill.
“Here.” Suna shoves a hotel key card into his hand. “Take my room. If Atsumu is staying with Sakusa then I can just bunk with Osamu.”
“Oh, are you sure?” asks Komori, turning to Osamu.
Osamu waves a hand. “Take it,” he says. “Sounds like you’re going to need it. Suna can stay with me no problem. It’ll be like the old days.”
“Right,” Komori says. “The old days. I forgot how close you guys are. I’m surprised you weren’t already bunking together.” For the second time tonight, Osamu feels like he’s missing the punch line to some joke that everyone else is in on.
“Like I said, just like old times.”
“You two are my saviors,” Komori accepts the keycard like it’s a gift from the gods.
“ ‘s no problem,” says Osamu. “Right, Suna?”
“Yep, get your wine and go get some sleep Komori, sounds like you deserve it.”
"Thanks! You too have fun-" Komori winks and is gone quickly as he arrived.
“See?” says Suna like he knew what really happened all along.
“Great, now that I know that bastard is alive I can start to plot my revenge.”
Suna pats him on the back and orders him another drink. “Whatever floats your boat."
He downs the shot and rests his head on the bar. If Atsumu is with Sakusa then he really doesn’t have any reason to stay down here. He could go up to his own hotel room and turn in for the night without feeling a lick of guilt for abandoning the rest of the bachelor party in the bar.
“Osamu," Suna whines. "The night is still young, you know? Don't go to bed yet, there’s still fun to be had.”
“Sunarin, it’s a little spooky how ya keep reading my mind like it’s no big deal.”
“Stop wearing your heart on your sleeve and I’ll be sure to do that.”
“You know just as well as I do that I don’t wear anything on my sleeve, let alone my heart.”
“I can only assume that sentence made more sense in your head than it did coming out of your mouth.”
“Why do ya have to kick a guy when he’s already down?”
“We can still have a fun night," Suna says, changing the subject.
“Whatcha have in mind?” He spares a glance back at the remains of the bachelor party. “Does it include getting outta here?”
“There are two bars in this hotel right?”
Osamu nods.
“You, me, José Cuervo, and Atsumu’s bar tab.”
“Sunarin, you just might be onto something.”
Osamu wakes up with sunlight streaming on his face and Suna draped halfway across his torso, pinning him to the bed. All in all, it’s far from the most compromising position they’ve woken up in after 10+ years of friendship and it isn’t completely unexpected. But, while he does have a vague memory of Suna giving Komori the key to his own room, it gets remarkably fuzzier from there.
If it weren’t for the pressure in his bladder and dull throbbing behind his eyes then he’d be pretty comfortable. The leg Suna has tossed over his stomach is a warm, pleasant weight. Even the arm that’s dangerously close to crushing his windpipe is comfortably grounding, reminding Osamu that he is a real tangible person.
It’s only after going to the bathroom and brushing his teeth that Osamu is able to fully appreciate what an absolute disaster the hotel room is. Suna’s shirt hangs off the lampshade and Osamu’s hoodie is perched precariously on top of the TV. The spare pillows and blankets haphazardly litter the floor. He hopes he won the epic pillow fight battle. That might at least make his headache worth it.
Ignoring the chaotic state of the room, Osamu turns his attention to his duffle bag, digging through its poorly folded contents until he finds a bottle of aspirin. He pours a few into his hand before returning to the bathroom to fill a glass with water. With water and aspirin in hand, he pulls the curtains completely shut and pads back to the bed.
Suna flipped onto his stomach in the few minutes since Osamu left; hand is fisted under the pillow and the other is splayed out across the bed. His mouth is twisted up into an ugly frown like even sleeping is too much work for him.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Suna mumbles, eyes still shut.
“I would if I had any idea where my phone is. How else will I remember how ugly yer face is in the morning?”
Suna cracks open an eye. “That’s for the best. Don’t forget, I have a brimming folder of blackmail material going all the way back to middle school and I'm not afraid to use it.
“Wipe that smirk off yer face and take this,” Osamu shoves two of the aspirin and the water under Suna’s nose. “Yer gonna need them.”
Suna wrinkles his nose but accepts them without argument. “Now stop looking at me all weird and get back in bed,” he hands Osamu the glass so that he can take his own aspirin. “It’s too early for this.”
“I always look at ya like this,” Osamu says, peeling back the covers.
“I know.”
“Aw shaddup and go to sleep.”
Osamu gracelessly climbs into bed, flopping down onto his back and spreading out like an overgrown starfish.
“Ugh,” Suna says, turning to lay on his back. “Why are you like this?”
“Admit it Sunarin, you love it.”
“Gross. I want to go back to sleep, jackass.”
Osamu shuffles closer until he has his head tucked into the crook between Suna’s shoulder and neck, one arm thrown over Suna’s chest. “This better?”
Suna hums and shuts his eyes. “Go to sleep, Osamu.”
The next time Osamu wakes up Suna is already awake and scrolling through his phone with one hand, the other is wrapped around Osamu, holding him tight where he lays against Suna's chest.
“Hey, Osamu?”
Osamu makes a noise somewhere between a grunt and a hum.
“How much do you remember from last night?”
“Uhh—" How much does he remember? He remembers the utter frustration when Atsumu finally was successful in ditching his own bachelor party after the three failed attempts, then lamenting his sorrows at the bar with Suna and Komori gratefully accepting Suna’s room key after Atsumu barged into his own hotel room. It gets fuzzy after that. They ditched the hotel bar at some point but where they went he doesn't know.
“All I got is the urge to strangle Atsumu, quelled only by Mister José Cuervo. Oh and Komori taking yer key after Sakusa kicked him out.”
Suna frowns, still scrolling through his phone. “So you don’t remember getting married either?”
Married? Last night was Atsumu's bachelor’s party, not the wedding.
Wait. Who?
“Me?” Osamu spits. “Married?”
Suna nods. “You. Me. Us.”
“We got married?”
“Yes.”
“You and me?”
“Yes.”
“Where? How? When?”
“I have no idea."
Suna, in Osamu's opinion, is acting way too casual about this. People don't get blackout drunk and wake up the next day married to their best friend. This is real life, not a romantic comedy.
“No,” Osamu says, sitting up. “No way. There’s no way we'd do something that stupid," he hesitates. In all fairness, Suna and Osamu have done a lot of stupid things in their near ten years of friendship. There was the time they'd gone hiking, went off-trail, and ended up lost for hours. The time they ditched school to jump the rope at the local movie theatre to see the latest shitty horror film only to get caught when they ran into their moms who were out for a girls' day. The time they played chubby bunny and both nearly choked to death on a mouthful of marshmallows. The list goes on. Suna and Osamu are no strangers to stupid. But still, there's no way. "Right?"
“Check your phone.”
“Can’t, don't know where it is.”
“Ugh, here.” Suna shoves his own phone into Osamu’s hands then dives back under the blankets and smashes his face into the pillow.
Suna has the camera roll open to a phone of Osamu doing a tequila shot at what he’s pretty sure is the hotel’s second bar. Nothing much there, definitely no evidence of a wedding. He swipes to the next photo. Okay, this one is perhaps just the tiniest bit more incriminating. It’s a selfie of him and Suna in front of a shoddy chapel and an Elvis impersonator between them. Just because they took a photo in front of a wedding chapel doesn’t mean they actually did the deed. It just means they have a good sense of humor.
The third photo changes the game entirely. They’re at the altar now, Elvis impersonator and all. Suna has Osamu’s hands in his own and Osamu is looking at him with an expression that can really only be described as lovesick.
“Holy shit.”
“I know,” Suna says, voice muffled by the pillow. “I’ve only ever seen you look at food like that. How drunk were you?”
Osamu swipes again. The final photo is of the two of them standing underneath a neon ‘just married’ sign. Their arms are wound around the other’s back and they’re grinning wide enough that it makes Osamu’s face hurt just to look at it. It sure does look like they got married.
“This has to be a joke,” Osamu says. “There’s no way.”
Suna takes the phone back and squints at the photos. “I don’t know. That’d be a pretty elaborate joke. Especially considering there was no one other than us around to appreciate it.”
“Drink enough tequila and anything is funny.”
Suna sighs. “I guess this does seem like the kind of thing you’d try to get back at Atsumu. Only you would actually go through the trouble of staging a wedding just to be an asshole.”
“Ya know me so well, Sunarin. Maybe I shoulda married ya for real.”
“In your dreams.”
They get breakfast at a diner Osamu can find even though by the time they drag themselves out of the hotel it’s nearly noon. He sets his sights on the greasiest diner he can find; in his experience, the greasier a diner looks, the better the food tastes. It’s science. And this diner looks downright disgusting, the exact kind of place to fight off a hangover and yet Suna has the audacity to say that he isn’t going to get anything.
“You gotta eat, Suna. How else are ya gonna grow big and strong?”
Suna blanches and pushes the menu away. “Not hungry and I’m already big and strong.”
“Exactly, just cause yer on vacation doesn’t mean yer professional athlete metabolism is. Ya gotta eat.”
“No.”
“Ya know, yer a real pain in my ass.”
When the waiter returns to the table, Osamu orders himself the biggest breakfast platters on the menu plus a bowl of rice and a single boiled egg for Suna.
“Said I didn’t want anything.”
“Too bad. Yer not gonna pass out on my watch.”
Suna taps on his phone while they wait for their food to come. Osamu sits back in the booth and watches the way Suna’s lips quirk up at the edges whenever he finds something amusing. Even hungover, with dark bags under his eyes and skin paler than ought to be considered healthy, he’s still pretty with the sunlight reflecting off his hair and highlighting one side of his face.
“Alright, I have the farmer’s breakfast for you and a boiled egg with a side of rice for you,” the waiter sets the dishes onto the table. “Anything else I can get for ya?”
“I think we’re alright,” says Osamu.
They eat in relative silence which is unsurprising considering how starving Osamu feels and how sick Suna looks. It’s long after Osamu finishes his breakfast that he finally breaks and decides that half the egg and a few bites of rice are all he can reasonably expect Suna to eat.
“How do ya even survive without me?” Osamu says as he scrapes the rest of Suna’s breakfast into his own bowl. No sense in wasting good food.
“You know, I’ve survived seven years without you breathing down my neck.”
“I know, it’s how ya managed it that I’m tryin’ to work out.”
“I had no idea you cared so much. But, then, you are my husband now so I suppose caring is a part of the job description.”
“Joke-husband,” Osamu corrects.
“Whatever you say, dear.”
Osamu glares but it does little to hide the blush that’s spreading across his cheeks. “Right, like I’d ever marry ya, Sunarin.”
Suna hums and sits back in his seat. He’s got a smirk across his face like he’s hot shit or something. Not for the first time, Osamu wants to kiss it off his stupid face. But like, in a bro way. Definitely not a fake husband way.
“We ought to get back,” says Osamu. “Rehearsal dinner is in a couple of hours. Gotta go put out any fires Atsumu starts before they get too outta hand.”
“Sure, I wanna get a nap in before we have to get dressed.”
Osamu rifles through his wallet for his debit card but stops cold when he sees it. The photos might not have proved it, but this certainly does. “Oh shit.”
“Osamu?” says Suna without looking up from his phone.
Wordlessly, Osamu hands over the little piece of paper that was tucked carefully into his wallet. Suna, sensing the gravity of the situation, puts down his phone for the first time since they arrived at the diner and carefully reviews the offered piece of paper.
“I need a drink,” Suna says as if that wasn’t what got them into this mess in the first place.
“Yer tellin’ me. We’re married- married.”
“What the fuck do we do now?”