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At the MSBY Jackals vs. EJP Raijins match, Atsumu and Komori meet and immediately hit it off, to Sakusa’s immense displeasure.
Sakusa gives Atsumu one rule: “Do not fuck my cousin." So what does Atsumu do? He fucks his cousin.
They don’t even try to cover it up or keep it classy. They show up to the joint team dinner half an hour late, shoulders brushing against each other, love bites clear as day while they giggle like a pair of schoolchildren.
Not for the first time, Sakusa agonizes over the fact that he and Komori are related. Well, he’s not going to flip his shit immediately. Atsumu and Komori are both fully grown adults, even if they refuse to act that way.
It’s just a one-time thing, right?
(It is not, in fact, a one-time thing.)
Thanks to Atsumu’s big mouth, Sakusa finds out a lot more about his cousin than he wants to in a very short time.
Sakusa is pissed, understandably, but this time he’s not going to take it sitting down. He’s had enough of Atsumu’s shit. He's going to strike back. He’s going to get revenge.
He’s going to date Osamu. ...or at least, pretend to.
An eye for an eye, right? You fucked my cousin, well I’m going to fuck your brother.
So he contacts Osamu, who agrees shockingly fast. (Almost suspiciously fast, but it makes sense—Osamu’s immediately on board for anything that involves messing with his twin brother.)
They meet up halfway between Amagasaki & Ohasuhigashi and get right to work.
Sakusa has seen Osamu around a couple of times, typically vending his trademark onigiri and cuffing his brother over the head after his matches. But he’s never seen him as anything other than Atsumu’s less annoying duplicate.
...He’s anything but.
From the minute they first met, Sakusa found himself reluctantly charmed by one Miya Osamu.
Osamu’s eyes are storm-gray, his arms are branches of corded muscle. There’s a quiet strength about him that translates into a straight back and an eased gait, and when he laughs at Sakusa’s long-suffering stories about his team, Sakusa can feel his heart flutter.
...But he doesn’t have time to think about that, he needs to get his revenge on Atsumu.
It starts small. An innocuous Instagram post, from Osamu's account, of Sakusa walking through the park. Atsumu leaves a comment that just says ‘????????’
Sakusa doesn’t have an Instagram, so he watches from Osamu's phone as Atsumu frantically key smashes in real-time. He's incomprehensible, and the pair share a good round of laughter.
When Sakusa leaves Osamu’s apartment that night, he does so reluctantly. The warmth in his chest does not die down until long after he leaves.
Atsumu angrily stomps up to Sakusa the next day. "What are ya playin’ at omi-omi? You better pick your next words real carefully," he hisses.
"I’m not playing at anything," Sakusa responds, and it upsets him to say it sincerely.
Atsumu narrows his eyes but does not press further.
It escalates from there, of course. Pictures of them holding hands (Osamu made sure to brush his fingernails and everything), Sakusa with a mouthful of Osamu’s onigiri (Osamu waited until after hours and sanitized the counter thrice), a photo of Sakusa smiling fondly—
Sakusa frowns. That one wasn't staged. He wonders when Osamu took it.
As practice goes on, Atsumu slowly grows more and more aggravated. Sakusa feels a vicious sort of satisfaction mixed with unease because soon, this plan of his will end. He won’t have an excuse to see Osamu anymore.
...Not that he really did in the first place.
When the tension reaches a breaking point, Sakusa blurts out something stupid. "What if we left each other hickies?" he asks. "Like Komori and Atsumu did for each other. It’s only fair, right?"
Osamu slowly cranes his neck around from where he's cooking them dinner. He stares from underneath his cap.
"...Miya-san?" Sakusa asks quietly.
Osamu stalks over, his feet dragging against the floor.
Sakusa feels a hot rush of shame. "L-listen, I--"
Osamu grabs him by the chin, forcing Sakusa to look up from his seat. He leans forward, lips brushing against Sakusa's ear. "How many times have I told you to call me Osamu?" Then he bites.
So they tumble into bed together, mouthing at each other’s necks like a pair of teenagers, but not once do they kiss each other directly.
Sakusa leaves that night with an awkward thank you. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth despite the giddy feeling in his stomach.
Sakusa’s neck is throbbing when he changes before practice the next day, and Atsumu looks ready to throttle him. He promptly goes through the seven stages of grief.
Sakusa manages to crack a smile through it all.
The team ogles him shamelessly, but no one seems surprised. Bokuto and Hinata even bounce up to him with their congrats, bombarding him with questions. Sakusa smirks, easily spinning a tale about his and Osamu’s relationship, but he desperately wishes he were speaking the truth.
Somehow, he and Osamu go back to pretending nothing happened. Their friendship tentatively continues as it did before. They take silly photos of them sharing onigiri. They swap funny stories. Their relationship is like any other normal friendship—except for the nights they kiss each other senseless.
Sakusa knows that they’re just dancing around each other at this point--but he’s scared. How was he supposed to know that some petty scheme for revenge would lead to the fissures in his heart? He’s scared to let someone in, to let himself out, to lay himself bare and acknowledge the ugliest parts of his personality.
It’s been years and years since Sakusa has accepted any sort of physical affection, but when Osamu lays his head on Sakusa’s shoulder and slowly falls asleep while they watch some cheesy horror movie on his couch, well. Nothing short of the apocalypse could convince him to move. When Sakusa hears the sound of gentle snores, he gingerly tries to push Osamu away. Instead, he whines, nuzzling into Sakusa’s shoulder even further and pressing himself into his lap. After a long, tense moment, he begs him, still half-asleep, "Stay."
Sakusa feels complete.
"Osamu…" he starts. "You don't know what you're asking for."
"Kiyoomi. Please…" he whimpers.
Sakusa's sighs are far too fond, especially considering how little they’ve known each other. Sakusa picks Osamu up with ease, carrying him bridal style and ignoring his half-baked protests at being manhandled. When he lays him onto the bed, he takes a moment to admire the curve of Osamu’s body.
And then he’s crawling into bed beside him.
Osamu turns over to face him. "Like what you see?" he murmurs.
Sakusa holds out a palm and caresses his jaw. "Yeah," he whispers. "I do."
Osamu is struck dumb by his honest affection. "You better. I haven’t been givin’ you a discount on the onigiri for nothin’," he drawls.
Sakusa continues to run his thumb over his jaw, then painstakingly slow, runs his thumb over his bottom lip.
They go in for a kiss at the same time.
This time it’s slow, it's gentle. It's kissing with the intent to kiss instead of claim. They pepper each other’s skin with unsaid confessions and quiet understanding, adoration rampant in each movement.
But Sakusa is tired. The world will keep spinning; the sun will still rise.
They have all the time they need.
He reluctantly pulls away, tangles their legs together with a quiet promise for more, and falls asleep with Osamu in his arms.
When Sakusa wakes the next morning, it's like he sees the world for the first time. It is not an earth-shattering moment, but a simple realization that he has been walking through life with his eyes closed. Someone just needed to show him how to open them.
Osamu is no longer lying next to him, but the bed is still warm. Sakusa smiles.
When he finds his way over to the kitchen, Osamu is frying rice and humming along to classical music. Sakusa revels in the way he’s able to embrace him from behind, snaking his arms around his waist to press kisses against the back of his neck. Osamu squeaks in surprise, and Sakusa has to suppress a giggle from how cute this man can be.
"Sleep well?" Osamu asks, reaching his free hand behind to card his fingers through Sakusa’s hair.
"Better than I ever have," Sakusa admits, inhaling the sweet scent of his shampoo. He sneaks his right arm underneath Osamu's and steals the chopsticks, frying the rice for him.
Osamu laughs, clear as a bell. It strikes Sakusa that it's one of the nicest sounds he's ever heard. "I’ve been waitin’ for ya, y’know." He grips the hand still wrapped around his waist. "I started sleeping on one side of the bed."
Sakusa raises an eyebrow. "Presumptuous," he says. He ignores the heat rising to his face.
Osamu rolls his eyes. "It wasn’t presumptuous," He turns to press a kiss to the underside of Sakusa’s jaw. "It was just...foresight."
Sakusa is in awe of this man. "How can you be so confident?"
Osamu shrugs. "I think some part of me just knew." He lightly pushes Sakusa to the side to take the pan off the stove, taking back the chopsticks. Sakusa reluctantly steps back as he scrapes the rice onto a plate. Osamu's voice lowers like he's about to confess to a crime. "I was hoping you'd come to think of this place as home."
When Osamu turns around, he grins, unabashedly happy. The expression is painfully honest.
Sakusa's heart lurches. He crowds Osamu against the counter and kisses him breathless.
—
Bonus:
Sometime later…
When Sakusa picks up the phone, he's greeted with a scream of, “Since when were you going to tell me you're fucking my boyfriend's twin brother?!” Sakusa immediately hangs up.
...Well, at least Komori and Atsumu are officially dating. It's an improvement from 'Long-Distance Booty Call That Totally Isn’t Pining for Each Other', and as much as Sakusa hates to admit it, they're a good couple. They make each other happy.
“What was that?” Osamu asks, throat thick with sleep.
“Nothing important,” Sakusa yawns. He puts his phone aside and settles back into bed. He looks at his partner, adoring his sleepy little smile. “Go back to bed.”
Osamu hums, satisfied. He snuggles back into his side as they both fall back asleep.