Work Text:
The first thoughts Sakusa Kiyoomi had upon entering the dimly lit, horribly decorated hotel lobby was that the Black Jackals didn't pay him nearly enough money to deal with this and that this wasn't the first time they'd disappointed him, simultaneously.
After losing a grueling match against the Deseo Hornets, and aggressively avoiding his old captain's gaze as Atsumu scolded him as if Kiyoomi were his child and not his grown ass boyfriend until the very end of the match when they shook hands, the Jackals travel department had informed them of the unfortunate mix-up.
Kiyoomi had sworn it couldn't get any worse.
Of course, the universe just had to prove him wrong.
It was a dilapidated building on a nice day. Today, however, there was a horrible thunderstorm that had hit the area, making itself known with swollen, black clouds and that heavy, heady tension in the air before the rain had begun to fall, steadily and hard. The wind had picked up just as they had arrived. So, not a nice day and not a nice hotel.
As Kiyoomi looked up at the swaying, flickering chandelier, he wondered about the integrity of the building.
Wondered darkly if it was compromised already.
"Okay, everyone," Foster called out to them. "I know this isn't our usual accommodations—" Foster looked around the room skeptically as a resounding boom of thunder caused the room to shake.
Hinata jumped, Bokuto clung onto the nearest person (which happened to be Atsumu), Atsumu looked even grumpier than he had after they lost, and Kiyoomi was trying very, very hard not to sigh and massage at his temples. The rest of the team displayed various degrees of concern on their faces.
"Like I was saying," Foster continued, "Try to rest and we'll regroup tomorrow. Come grab your room cards."
For being unfairly tall with seemingly long legs, Sakusa Kiyoomi was one of the last members of the Jackals to huddle around the small, round table in order to obtain his room key.
"Sakusa!" Bokuto's energetic voice drew his attention. "We're rooming today!"
Kiyoomi's eyes veered to the side, registering Atsumu in the periphery of his vision.
He was faced towards Kiyoomi's body, undoubtedly reading his reaction with keen amber eyes.
Besides getting heated at him on the court, Atsumu hadn't spoken a word to him otherwise. Kiyoomi wasn't sure if Atsumu was blaming him or himself, but knowing Atsumu, if Kiyoomi tried talking to him right now, he'd get a swift and sharp rebuke. It was better to let Atsumu sort himself out, cool his hot head, and then try and have a conversation like adults.
For whatever reason, the two of them had been having trouble connecting on the court today. It wasn't a common occurrence, but when it did happen, it always got worse before it got better. Atsumu would get increasingly frustrated throughout the match, Kiyoomi would try fighting the rut, but Atsumu's temper would flare, Kiyoomi's obstinance would rise, and in the crescendo the fall out would be like two great gods crumpling the world in ash and debris.
Coach Foster, thankfully, had caught on to the brewing explosion and subbed Kiyoomi out with Barnes. It was better gameplay, but still it seemed Atsumu's roiling emotions and the Hornets' early lead proved a fruitless endeavor.
Instead of starting a fight, Kiyoomi just wanted peace.
Turning to Bokuto, Kiyoomi held out a hand for his room card and went, "Okay."
Out of the corner of Kiyoomi's eye, he saw Atsumu turn away.
Bokuto smiled brilliantly, said nothing, and handed Kiyoomi his half of the hotel room access.
As a team, they lugged their belongings to the elevator and pushed the up arrow button.
Beside him, Kiyoomi could feel Hinata's eyes peering between him and Atsumu. Bokuto chattered away like nothing was wrong, but strategically avoided conversation on their game today and Kiyoomi and Atsumu's strained relationship. The rest of the team spoke quietly, but it was subdued in nature. Most likely because of the loss, but Kiyoomi wondered if they too were trying to figure out where the pair went wrong.
From what Kiyoomi could make out, Atsumu was staring straight ahead, completely silent.
Their fights were legendary. Not just across their team, but across the league. They bantered and squabbled with each other even on good days. That was just the nature of their relationship. The entire league and all the fans knew it was nothing serious. It was just that the both of them were one side to the same coin, and when two such people strike up a relationship, the dynamic shifts. Where the fighting was rowdy and acerbic before they got together, it was now how they communicated, just to see if the other one was paying attention. They weren't toxic, they were simply two people who were a little more abrasive than warm.
This would blow over. It always did.
An eerie screeching sound erupted into the air.
It was being emitted by the elevator.
The noise stopped and the two steel doors smoothly glided open. Kiyoomi felt unnerved.
The Jackals, psychopaths that they were, all climbed in until Kiyoomi remained the only one not crammed into the elevator, squashed between large, athletic men and wound around by their haphazard belongings.
From the front row, Kiyoomi met Atsumu's eyes. A dark brow lifted at him condescendingly.
"I'm taking the stairs," he stated before whirling around.
The steel doors shut behind him.
The only problem with taking the stairs was that his room was located on the eighth floor of the hotel.
What was a little more cardio before his shower?
When he entered the room, Bokuto was nowhere to be found. His bags, however, were tossed into the middle of the room, staking claim on no real space, but maybe that was done on purpose, since Kiyoomi liked to carefully choose his side of the room and clean it up a bit before settling down for the night.
Kiyoomi set his bag on the bed closest to the bathroom and took out his toiletries.
During his shower, he scrubbed the grit and smell of the bus out of his skin, the tension from the intense game and subsequent loss from his muscles, but not the uncertainty, the unease, with Atsumu that still remained. No matter how hard he sunk his nails into the supple blush of his flesh, the meat of his muscles, the ridges of his bones, Kiyoomi knew that there was no resolution to that unreachable layer beneath his skin until he talked to Atsumu.
When he exited the bathroom, Bokuto still hadn't returned to their room. That wasn't surprising. He was probably up in Hinata and Atsumu's room, possibly gossiping about him, but also trying to calm Atsumu down and keep his mind off of things.
It wasn't late, but Kiyoomi was exhausted by the turn of events. He simply wanted to read his book, apply his skincare, and sleep peacefully until the next morning where hopefully Atsumu would be in a better mood and they could talk out whatever it was that was bothering him.
Kiyoomi rummaged through his bag, searching for his toothbrush and toothpaste. When he found the plastic bag he usually kept them in, he was met with a curious phenomenon.
He had his toothbrush, but his toothpaste was nowhere in sight.
Kiyoomi swore under his breath.
He had been in such a rush that morning that he had packed the toothpaste into Atsumu's bag.
Now, he had two choices. The first was to go downstairs to the front desk and ask them for the small, travel sized tubes they usually kept behind the counter. The possible risk of that, however, was that they may carry a brand he did not like. Kiyoomi himself also felt like a bit of an idiot at asking because who forgets toothpaste? Not to mention the fact that he could run into his teammates or even Atsumu himself at the counter, which was awful to even think about.
Which brought him to the second option. Run up to Atsumu and Hinata's room (on the tenth floor). Pray to whomever was listening that Hinata open the door and Atsumu ignore him or be in the bathroom, inquire for the toothpaste, maybe get away mostly unscathed, but probably a little burnt, and avoid utter humiliation in front of his teammates.
The wind howled at his window, whistling an uninviting tune through the tree branches.
He went with the first option.
Rolling his sleeve over his thumb, Kiyoomi clicked the down arrow on the elevator panel.
He waited stoically for it to arrive.
When the doors opened, Kiyoomi's stomach dropped.
Atsumu casually looked up from his phone. Upon seeing Kiyoomi, his eyes darkened.
As blunt as ever, Kiyoomi said, "I'll take the next one."
Atsumu scoffed, straightening from his slouched lean against the back wall of the elevator and gestured to the near empty elevator. His eyes glinted dangerously, like knives. "There's nobody here."
"There's you," Kiyoomi replied unthinkingly.
Atsumu's mouth twisted down into a frown and his eyes hardened. "So? Now, you can't even be in the same room as me?"
Kiyoomi glared. "That's not what I said."
"Then, what are ya saying?"
"Nothing."
"Sure sounds like it."
Kiyoomi growled lowly and stepped into the elevator. "There, I'm in the elevator now. Happy?"
Atsumu's smile was wicked, mocking. "Never been happier."
Kiyoomi eyed the elevator panel, preparing to press the lobby button until he saw it alight. Atsumu had pressed it before him.
"Going somewhere?" Kiyoomi asked as the elevator doors clicked shut behind him resoundingly.
Atsumu was looking down at his phone again. He grumbled, "What's it to ya?"
Kiyoomi sighed, letting his head drop back in exasperation before he turned to face the elevator doors. "Why do I even bother?"
He could almost feel Atsumu's anger palpitating in the air behind him. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean—"
Suddenly the elevator stopped jerkily. Kiyoomi stumbled a bit at the abrupt halt, but righted himself quickly. Behind him, he heard Atsumu grunt.
Kiyoomi moved to the side, allowing whoever awaited at the stop a place to step in without his large, wide frame taking up room in the elevator entrance.
When the elevator doors didn't open and it didn't continue to descend, Kiyoomi became suspicious.
His eyes glanced up at the elevator panel and examined the number five that was permanently shown on its display.
"What's going on?" Atsumu asked him accusingly.
Kiyoomi shot him a look from over his shoulder. "I don't know."
"Hmm." Atsumu responded. Then, he supplied helpfully, "Maybe it's stuck. Try pressing the button again."
Kiyoomi jammed his knuckle into the lobby button. Once, twice, three times.
"It's not working." He told Atsumu.
"Maybe we need to give it a little shove."
Atsumu bounced on his toes.
Kiyoomi whipped around. "Are you crazy? Stop that."
Atsumu grinned at him, feral and snide. "What? Ya scared, Omi?"
He bounced again. Harder this time.
Kiyoomi held out a hand. "Atsumu, seriously. Stop. You don't know what you're doing."
The amused expression on Atsumu's face fell and he looked darkly at Kiyoomi. Petulant and furious, he shouted, "Don't tell me what to do!"
All of a sudden, the elevator gave a terrible, trembling groan.
"What the—?" Atsumu began.
Abruptly, the elevator gave way beneath them and Atsumu shouted as the floor plummeted out from underneath their feet. Kiyoomi's stomach flew into his throat as the elevator cart dropped, nearly hitting his head on the top of the ceiling.
There was no telling how much time they'd been in the air, but just as quickly as they fell, they lurched to a stop.
Both of them let out noises as they collided with the elevator floor.
Kiyoomi sat up and rubbed at the blooming pain at his temples. Reproachfully, he glared at Atsumu.
"I told you not to do that," Kiyoomi hissed.
Atsumu glared back bitterly. "Not my fault the damn thing's broke."
Then, upon realizing their situation, Atsumu blanched.
"Oh, god," Atsumu breathed, looking at Kiyoomi with wide, frantic eyes. "We're gonna die here."
Kiyoomi snorted, getting to his feet. "Don't be ridiculous."
Before Kiyoomi could take a step forward, Atsumu lunged for his legs and wrapped around them like a small child would.
"Don't move, don't move! Last time we did that, we almost died."
Kiyoomi looked down at him, unimpressed. "You mean when you jumped?"
Atsumu's expression took on a pout. "Now's really not the time to be thinkin' 'bout specifics, is it, Omi-kun?"
Kiyoomi sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose, fighting for patience.
Atsumu, for his part, kept holding on.
Kiyoomi looked down at him again. "Let go."
The stubborn jut of Atsumu's jaw made Kiyoomi's teeth grind. "No."
"Atsumu—"
"No, no, double no—"
"Atsumu!" Kiyoomi snapped. "I'm just trying to press the emergency call button."
"Oh," Atsumu relented. He relinquished his hold of Kiyoomi's legs. "Well, why didn't'cha say that before?"
"Because I'm not an idiot who would jump on a broken elevator."
"Hey! I resent that."
"I'm sure you do."
Finally freed, Kiyoomi reached for the emergency call button and pressed on it with the hard edge of his knuckle. A shrill ringing sounded outside of their elevator car. Kiyoomi waited a couple of minutes before pressing again.
"Maybe the mechanic's not awake," Kiyoomi reasoned.
Behind him, Atsumu was quiet.
Kiyoomi patted down his pockets to see if he brought his phone. "Dammit," he swore when he realized he hadn't. "Atsumu—" he said, turning around.
Atsumu's big brown eyes were filled with tears.
"I don't wanna die," he warbled out. "I don't wanna die in this stupid elevator, and I don't wanna die fightin' with ya."
Kiyoomi tried not to laugh, since it was a ridiculous notion that they were going to die. They had fallen one, maybe two floors. That meant that they were around the fourth to third floor. Even if the elevator dropped again, it wouldn't kill them.
Another part of him felt his heart sink at seeing his partner distressed. Atsumu was truly terrified. His shoulders were shaking, and the tears trembled like crystalline film on his lower lids. Kiyoomi knew Atsumu could be dramatic, overdramatic even, and he was overreacting for sure, but this was Atsumu. Atsumu with his wild mood swings, Atsumu who defaulted to worst case scenario, Atsumu who he loved and who loved him, worried about their safety.
Kiyoomi felt himself move first, his brain catching up with him in the few steps it took him to reach Atsumu. He crouched down before his partner, wiping at the single tear that had managed to escape the watery alcove of those amber eyes.
"No one's going to die," Kiyoomi whispered.
"You sure?" Atsumu sniffled.
Kiyoomi smiled at Atsumu softly, nodding his head.
Atsumu smiled back, wobbly. He reached out a finger to run across Kiyoomi's cheek.
"Not wearing a mask." He observed.
Kiyoomi's eyes widened in surprise. "I must have forgotten."
Atsumu's head tilted to the side, regarding him. "Something on your mind?"
He must have known. How could he not, asking such a question?
"You." Kiyoomi admitted. "Us."
Atsumu's nose wrinkled, like the memories didn't sit well with him, like he didn't really want to talk about it. "I was in a bad mood."
"I know."
"Let it get the best of me."
"I know."
"Should've talked to ya."
"Probably."
"That's all you're gonna say? One word responses?"
Kiyoomi contemplated. "What else do you want me to say?"
Atsumu adjusted himself, opening himself up to Kiyoomi again. "You gonna get angry?"
"Angry?" Kiyoomi parroted.
Atsumu nodded, a stray tear streaking down the side of his face.
Kiyoomi thought about it.
What Atsumu offered wasn't much of an explanation. That much was true. But he looked remorseful enough, guilty in his speech, written all over his face. Kiyoomi could get angry, but what would that do? He knew Atsumu, knew that his temperature ran hot, his temper hotter. Knew that loving him and being with him required effort, that Atsumu was always hungry for more, more, more, but so patiently impatient with Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi knew he tried his best, had his faults, but was generally a good person, so what more could he ask for? What was there really to be angry about?
Then, the tiniest smile pulled at the corner of his lips, and he looked at Atsumu fully.
"I think just knowing you cried thinking we were going to die in a broken elevator is enough punishment," Kiyoomi smirked.
He laughed softly as Atsumu punched him in the shoulder.
"Seriously, though," Atsumu said when Kiyoomi was done laughing, "how are we gonna get out of here?"
Kiyoomi hummed.
"Still got your phone?"
They called Coach Foster. If Coach Foster knew, then most likely that meant the entire team did too.
"Atsumu-kun, Sakusa-san!" Hinata's bright, worried voice called out. "Are you alright?"
"We're fine," Kiyoomi called back.
"What about Atsumu? He didn't kill him, did he?" They both heard Inunaki asking.
"Tsum-Tsum?" Bokuto shouted.
"We're fine!" Atsumu repeated, voice a little annoyed. Then, to himself, "Can't believe they think you'd kill me."
Kiyoomi shot him an amused look.
In the elevator, they huddled close. Atsumu was practically pulled into Kiyoomi's lap, arms wound around his neck, head resting on his shoulder, soaking in his warmth. Kiyoomi was content to simply stroke his finger's through Atsumu's platinum hair.
"You're really not mad?" Atsumu asked as they heard their team calling for assistance.
Kiyoomi sighed. "For the tenth time, Atsumu, I'm not mad."
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because I know you." Kiyoomi responded. "I know that sometimes we're off. Sometimes we don't connect. But the times we do, they're great. And they're more often than not. It's worth it. We fight, sure, but when do we not?"
Atsumu was silent in his arms.
Kiyoomi gently butted his temple against Atsumu's forehead. "You had a bad day. There's nothing wrong with that. I'd prefer you tell me about it, but there are just some things that never change. You'd rather just get mean than tell me what you're feeling."
"Sorry," Atsumu whispered against Kiyoomi's throat.
"It's okay," Kiyoomi reassured him. "It doesn't make me love you any less."
"Mmm." Kiyoomi could feel Atsumu's smile on his skin, lips brushing his neck. "Keep talkin' about how much you love me, then."
Kiyoomi frowned and pinched Atsumu's side. The blonde squealed, rearing away from Kiyoomi's touch, and started to giggle. After a couple of seconds, Atsumu melted back into his touch, their teammates hollering down to them that help was on the way.
"Shame," Atsumu said. "Kinda don't wanna leave."
"That's because you're kinda leeching my warmth, you parasite."
"Admit it, you kinda like it."
"Maybe I kinda do, then what?"
"Kinda makes me wanna kiss you."
"Kinda makes me want to kiss you back."
There was the sound of fake retching from atop. "Kinda preferred when they were fighting."
"You guys know we can kinda hear you, right?"
Kiyoomi grumbled under his breath as Atsumu giggled some more. "Kinda want to stay here forever too, now."
Atsumu laughed.
Kiyoomi watched him and smiled.
It didn't matter if Atsumu was difficult. When was he not? That's just how he was. Kiyoomi himself was pretty difficult, too. The two of them were not two people meant for just anybody. Not everyone could handle the grief of Kiyoomi's harsh, blunt honesty or handle Atsumu's mood swings, his arrogance, his big fat jerkiness. They were too different sides to the same coin. Without either, it was incomplete.
Without Atsumu by his side, Kiyoomi was incomplete.
He wouldn't have it any other way.
(After what felt like hours, the mechanic got them out. Bokuto and Atsumu switched rooms, no hard feelings, and all was at peace again.
They didn't lose any games after that.)