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One Thursday afternoon, Atsumu bursts through Ushijima and Sakusa’s propped open door with all the grace of a raging bull. He’s waving a little square slip of paper, eyes wide and glinting with something that can only spell trouble. His cheeks are still flushed from the cold and he hasn’t even bothered to take off his shoes or coat. Sakusa barely spares him a disdainful look before turning back to the lab he’s in the middle of writing up. Ushijima, bless him, is infinitely more polite and takes pity on Atsumu. He even takes his headphones off all the way, giving Atsumu his undivided attention. Not that Atsumu deserves it, in Sakusa’s sour opinion. “What’s in your hand, Miya-kun?” he asks.
Atsumu’s grin, impossibly, turns more feral. He steps further into their room (ignoring Sakusa’s sharp hiss) and holds the paper up like the monkey from The Lion King.
“Found it slipped under the door. Psi Phi is hostin’ a social with Chi Eta tonight and we’re fuckin’ going,” he announces.
Ushijima blinks before turning to Sakusa. Sakusa tries not to be pleased with that; Ushijima looking to Sakusa for assent before agreeing to something stupid or ill-advised. He probably couldn’t care less if they go to a disgusting frat basement on a school night or not, but Ushijima knows his roommate would rather be boiled alive like a lobster, and he typically doesn’t do things that Sakusa won’t like. Sakusa had worried about that, but when he’d told Ushijima that if he felt like going out without him he could and not to worry about leaving him behind, the puzzled confusion on his face had been answer enough.
Not looking up from where he was carefully sharpening a pencil over his desk-side wastebasket, Sakusa responds to both Atsumu’s ridiculous statement and Ushijima’s questioning look. “No we’re fucking not. Get out of our room before you track anymore slush in.”
“But Ooooomiiiiiii,” whines Atsumu, “Why not? What’s the harm? Bokkun and Shou already agreed.” Sakusa finally turns to his obnoxious suitemate, incredulous.
“Why not? What’s the harm ? Have you lost your mind? Why would we go to frat that’s halfway across the city on a Thursday, when I know damn well you have a nine-forty tomorrow?” he asks. Before Atsumu can say something dumb in response (probably I was gonna skip that class anyway Omi-kun, so hah! ), Ushijima clears his throat.
“Miya, why do you want to go to a frat anyway?” he asks, genuinely curious. “I was under the impression that you and Bokuto avoided fraternities.” It’s a good question and were Ushijima to ask anyone else it would put a perfect end to the whole discussion. Unfortunately, Atsumu is a pain in the ass and logic doesn’t work on him.
“Well, yeah. But Psi Phi and Chi Eta have, like, a huge rivalry with Delta, and Delta’s having somethin’ tonight, too. It would piss Delta the fuck off if they see me and Bokkun livin’ it up there, which they absolutely will see,” explains Atsumu, smug. “If me and Bokuto smile down upon these poor losers, our revenge will be complete.”
Sakusa seriously doubts their revenge will ever actually be complete because Atsumu cannot let dead dogs lie, and as nice as Bokuto is, he has very real and very valid beef with their ex-brothers. Last year, the Beta Delta leadership had learned of Bokuto’s relationship with Akaashi, even though the high-school sweethearts had never been particularly circumspect about it. In the middle of a chapter meeting, the public relations chair brought up that members being in gay relationships wasn’t the image the organization was trying to project and suggested that Bokuto either shove his relationship into the closet and bury it under old shoeboxes and winter coats or be dropped.
Bokuto had been too shocked and upset to respond right away. Luckily, Atsumu’s a hothead, always been ready to get into shit with the first asshole who sets him off. Besides, he’d always hated the PR chair, anyway. Thirty minutes later found a still-raging Atsumu and a distressed Bokuto being escorted off the premises by a harried-looking city cop, each carrying a bag of their belongings.
Sakusa had been aware of the explosive end to golden-boy Miya Atsumu and executive hype-man Bokuto Koutarou’s tenure with Beta Delta; everyone on campus who was at least mildly socially-aware was. It wasn’t until he’d asked the two why, exactly, they were still living on campus that he’d gotten the full story; they’d dropped too late in the year to find someplace to rent, but there were luckily spots still open in the dorms. Sakusa’d felt the slightest, eensiest bit more charitable towards his least favorite suitemates after that revelation.
This all lead back to why Miya was planning social murder on a Thursday in the middle of February. His... departure from Delta had been messy, loud, and crippling for the fraternity. Atsumu had only ever joined because Bokuto had and therefore felt no guilt about dragging his former brothers and their reputation through the dirt in Bokuto’s honor. Atsumu had very, very considerable sway over their school’s social life; if he said someone was out, best believe they were out. In December, he’d been pleased to announce that Delta’s numbers after pledging were catastrophically low. Gracing a rival frat with his presence, likely plastered across social media, would be the final nail in the coffin.
Sakusa sighs, accepting defeat. This isn’t just Atsumu wanting to get drunk for free(ish) on a Thursday night; this is business.
“Fine,” he grits out finally, “But I’m laying down some ground rules. Bring the other two in here.” Atsumu nods like a bobble-head, rushing off to grab Bokuto and his boyfriend.
Sakusa feels Ushijima’s eyes on him like a physical sensation. When he turns to meet his roommate’s eyes, Ushijima is smiling slightly, imperceptible to the average person. Sakusa is not the average person and could in fact write The Field Guide to the Expressions of Ushijima Wakatoshi.
“What,” he asks, confused as to why Ushijima is smiling at him. He has to fight down a blush when Ushijima’s smile grows a little wider as he snorts.
“It’s nothing. This is just odd of you, to actually let Miya win,” he says, before suddenly turning serious. The line of his mouth and the slight furrow of his eyebrows are on page 78 of Sakusa’s book, under the section titled Confusion, Concern, and Care. “Are you sure you’re alright with going out tonight?”
Sakusa doesn’t even pretend to ignore the fuzzy feeling Ushijima’s consideration leaves in his chest. He’ll never understand why people say Ushijima is oblivious and rude; then again, they don’t know him like he does. They can’t understand what it means to be in the stoic giant’s favor, what it means to be understood by someone who has to really try to understand.
“I’ll be alright, Wakatoshi-kun,” he says, giving his roommate a smile of his own. “Besides, I can always use another thing to blackmail Miya with. And he knows after this that he can’t make me go out again for at least another two weekends.” Sakusa preens internally when Ushijima chuckles at that as Atsumu drags Hinata in by the wrist, Bokuto in tow.
Sakusa turns in his desk chair to face the three, arms crossed. He ignores the obvious amusement plastered across Ushijima’s face, the same look he gets whenever Sakusa has to lay down the law. Sakusa can’t think about what that means right now, though.
“Here are the rules for tonight. Failure to comply with said rules results in me leaving with Wakatoshi-kun immediately and taking the cab fare with us. Understand?” he barks. Atsumu and Bokuto nod seriously. Hinata barely seems to be paying attention, but Sakusa wasn’t particularly worried about him anyway. Ushijima turns his laptop towards him when Hinata wanders over to his desk, leaning over Ushijima’s shoulder to see what he was working on.
“Rule number one,” says Sakusa. “If the place is more disgusting than is within normal parameters for a frat house, we leave immediately.” Atsumu winces but nods along. Sakusa continues;
“Rule number two; the first person to start a fight, intentional or unintentional, has to cover drinks the next time we go out.” He actually directs this one at Hinata, who smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. The little imp tended to be the most trouble in this area, even more so than his hot-headed idiot worse half.
“Rule number three; we only go to the party. No bar hopping after, no going to the club. There and back. Do I make myself clear?” He gets a round of reluctant acquiescence and Sakusa nods, final. “Good. Now don’t even think about coming near this room again until at most an hour and a half before we have to leave. Now get out.” Atsumu and Bokuto scurry out together, heads already bent to each other, most likely plotting the finer details of their vendetta. Hinata bounds out after them, cheerfully waving to Ushijima as he shuts the door.
Groaning, Sakusa closes his eyes and drapes his shoulders and arms over his chair’s backrest. He already knows that absolutely none of those rules will be followed tonight, but the fact that they’ve been stated and agreed to means he’ll be well within his rights to enact later revenge against any miscreant. He rubs his wrists absentmindedly, sore from a few hours of sitting on his laptop. He startles when he feels another’s hands on him, and he looks up to see Ushijima giving his undivided attention to Sakusa’s aching wrist and elbow, massaging them gently. Sakusa loses his breath for a second before sternly reminding himself that this is just Ushijima being his gentle, oblivious self. Anyone else would take this as a romantic overture, but Sakusa knows better by now. He’s been under the quiet, thoughtful, platonic care of Ushijima for too long with nothing but a debilitating crush to show for it to even entertain the idea of mutual romantic affection.
The two sit in silence, Ushijima looming over him but not crowding. When he deems his work done, Ushijima pats his hand and returns to his desk, already slipping his headphones back on. “Hinata and I will help you herd them at the end of the night, I promise,” he says, already opening YouTube back up to finish the concert he’d been listening to.
Sakusa huffs out a laugh. Not that he’s ever doubted that he would have Ushijima’s aid, but the quiet reassurance still sends tingles down his skin. Or maybe that was the massage.
- • - • - • -
At nine-forty-five, Sakusa is roused from his studying-induced fugue state by a series of light, rhythmic raps on their door. Ushijima, who’d been diligently filling out his planner and calendar, gets up to let Hinata in.
“Hi Ushijima-san, hi Omi-san!” he chirps, rocking back and forth on his heels in the doorway. “Tsumu told me to come and tell you guys that you should start getting ready now.”
It doesn’t escape Sakusa’s notice that Atsumu wasn’t the one delivering the instructions himself. “Your boyfriend is a bastard for using you as the sacrificial lamb.” His left eye twitches when Hinata just laughs at him.
“It’s ‘cuz I’m not afraid of you, Omi! And Atsumu is just exercising self-preservation,” quips Hinata, grin cheeky. “Oh, he also told me to tell you guys that the party starts at ten, so we should aim to leave by ten-thirty.”
Ushijima cocks his head, confused. “Isn’t that a little late?” he asks, but Hinata shakes his head. “Nah. We’re planning to be there when it’s already in full swing so we can avoid that awkward warm-up period. You know, when nobody’s there yet and the basement is just a little too empty?” Ushijima nods, accepting that at face value. They all know that Hinata was an expert at these sorts of things; he’d been something of a freelance event planner for at least half their dorm’s events. “Atsumu also said he really doesn’t want to have to hang out with those guys longer than he needs to.” Yeah, that sounds like Atsumu alright.
“Are we pregaming here?” asks Sakusa, reluctantly putting away his work. His biostatistics work could probably wait until class tomorrow morning. Hopefully.
“Nah, there’s no point. We should save the stuff here since we’ll drink for free there,” says Hinata. Sakusa doesn’t bother telling Hinata that there’s no reason to “save” their alcohol, since he has quite a few legal friends who can buy more at any time. He’s always gotten the feeling that money and budgeting were a tricky topic with Hinata and so he won’t touch that tonight.
That doesn’t mean Sakusa won’t absolutely be dipping into his own supply tonight, though. If he’s drinking in the middle of the week, it’s going to be his favorite liquor, not jungle juice that tastes like week-old gym socks.
Hinata heads back to his room and Sakusa grabs an outfit to change into in the bathroom while Ushijima takes the room. He doesn’t feel compelled to take a shower knowing full well he’ll be covered in dirt and god only knows what else by the end of the night. Once he’s dressed, he tries to make his hair look somewhat decent. The dry air of winter has reduced his usual healthy curls to pale, limp, frizzy shadows of their former selves. He calls it a night after refreshing them and raking a curl definer through the ends.
The door to the room he shares with Ushijima is ajar when he leaves the bathroom, so when he enters the room it’s to the delightful sight of a cleaned-up Ushijima. He always looks handsome, but something about the tight green tee and thigh-hugging black jeans threatens to take Sakusa’s breath away. He’s slightly gratified by the way Ushijima’s eyes widen when he sees him.
“You look good, Kiyoomi,” he says, reaching into the closet to find a jacket. He holds a dark denim jacket up, eyebrow raised, and Sakusa nods in approval.
“Thanks. It’s nothing special though,” says Sakusa, and it’s true; he’s only wearing pants similar to Ushijima’s and a soft mock turtleneck. However, he does spend most of his time in joggers and hoodies so it is quite the departure from his usual look. Doesn’t justify the heat he’s pretty sure he’s not imagining in Ushijima’s eyes, and so Sakusa busies himself with rooting around in one of his drawers for his warmest socks. No matter how they get to this damned party, he’s sure they’ll be spending a considerable amount of time in the cold.
Ushijima walks over to his side of the room when Sakusa pulls the vodka out of his wardrobe, pouring them both two shots each. They knock them back, grimacing in sync and laughing at the other’s expression. From the vestibule comes a racket, their rowdy roommates most likely putting on shoes and coats. Sakusa takes his own coat off of the hook by his bed and pulls it on, but before he can turn to leave, he feels a dry palm on his cheek. He gasps when Ushijima’s other hand rises only to gently readjust a few errant curls, carefully brushing his hair into place. He lets both hands fall as Sakusa stands there, gaping.
“There,” Ushijima says, his expression not giving any hint as to what’s going through that wonderful, terrible mind of his, “Perfect.” He finally gives Sakusa a little half-smile before leaving their room. Sakusa trails behind in his wake, dazed. He quickly snaps out of his vivid instant replay of the feeling of Ushijima’s giant, calloused palm on his cheek when he hears the word “bus” come from Atsumu’s bastard mouth.
“Absolutely not,” Sakusa says. “If you’re dragging us out to that hellhole, we’re not taking the bus.” Atsumu won’t back down, though.
“Omi-kun, it’s a Thursday. The line won’t be that bad and it’ll drop us close to where we’ve gotta be,” Atsumu argues, slipping on his disgusting frat sneakers.
“Miya, you’re forgetting what happened the last time we took the bus. Either we find a cab, or we’re not coming along,” says Sakusa, final. A collective shiver passes through the group; the infamous bus incident was still fresh in their minds and even Atsumu begins to look swayed. He dithers a bit more, but one look at the queasy look on Hinata’s face and the pleading look in his eyes sold him on the cab. Bokuto mouths the word whipped at Sakusa from behind Atsumu’s back, the two sharing a smirk.
Near the campus bus stop, there's luckily a free cab (or rather not, since Sakusa was hoping there would be no cabs and he could go home and relax with Ushijima instead), and they all pile in. Fifteen minutes and the world’s scariest car ride they’ve collectively suffered through later, they’re dumped on the sidewalk outside of possibly the most dilapidated frat house in the city. Sakusa desperately hopes he’s hallucinating the way the building seems to shake from the music and crowds inside.
Atsumu claps his hands once, getting their attention. “This is it, boys! Let’s endear ourselves to our lovely hosts, post some videos with the location tag, hype this place up, and watch Delta crumble.” The twist to both his features and Bokuto’s has even Ushijima leaning away, apprehensive. When they pay the guys at the door their cover fee, Sakusa grabs Hinata. He doesn’t even have to open his mouth before Hinata is frantically nodding.
“I know Omi-san, I’ll try and keep an eye out.” His smile is a little nervous around the edges.
Inside the house, Sakusa has to fight to keep the disgust off his face. It’s only Ushijima’s palm at the small of his back propelling him forward that keeps him from walking right back out. The smell of frat basement is particularly pungent, the sour scent of sweat mixed with the sickly artificial fruitiness of spilled drinks and e-cig pods an assault on the senses. Ushijima steers them over to the bar while Atsumu and Bokuto make nicey-nicey with some of the Chi brothers. Hinata’s vanished, probably sucked into a conversation by one of his many friends and acquaintances that seem to find him wherever he goes.
“Two beers, please.” Ushijima’s voice drags him back to his companion. The brother behind the bar nods before bending down to fill their solo cups from a keg below the counter. Not for the first time, Sakusa is grateful for how well Ushijima has come to know him; he somehow knew slight buzz from the shots from earlier weren’t going to cut it, and that beer was the better option than sucking down cup after cup of the weakest punch known to man.
They don’t even need to communicate once they get their drinks, finding the nearest semi-quiet corner, leaning against the concrete wall together, and watching the room while nursing their drinks. Sakusa keeps half an eye out for Atsumu and Bokuto as they weave through the crowd, taking pictures and recording themselves playing drinking games.
He hears Ushijima huff next to him, and turns to him, eyebrow quirked. Ushijima gestures with the hand holding his cup to where their suitemates are already being thrashed at boom cup. “That’s not going to end well.”
Sakusa hums in agreement, smirking. “Shame that Hinata’s too busy with his groupies to babysit.” Atsumu was, despite his size, a huge lightweight; there’s no doubt in Sakusa’s mind that he’ll be trashed within the hour. Hinata’s tolerance was high enough that he could keep an eye on his errant boyfriend, but he was usually too interested in causing mischief himself to actually rein him in. Right now, their youngest friend was holding court by the dilapidated pool table, gesticulating with a drink in hand and smiling widely at the small crowd around him. Sakusa could practically hear the enamored sighs from where he and Ushiima stood.
He tears his eyes away from Hinata. There are better ways to spend this night than watching his roommates devolve into drunken fools. For example, Ushijima is standing next to him, looking absolutely delectable. On anyone else, the way his bangs have started to grow dark with sweat from the heat of the room would be foul. However, everything Ushijima is and does makes Sakusa want to declare his undying love (and also jump him), so Sakusa drinks heavily from his cup to drown the twisting in his gut.
- • - • - • -
Sakusa and Ushijima are still on the fringes of the room an hour later, although they’ve moved walls and have been joined by Hinata and a friend of Ushijima’s from high school. Reon is pleasant to be around and Sakusa had met him before, plus Hinata is acting as a social lubricant whenever Sakusa or Ushijima lose the thread of the conversation.
Shifting his second empty beer cup from hand to hand, Sakusa tries to squash his restlessness. The way his feet are sticking to the floor is grinding at his frayed nerves along with the insistent sounds from this place’s second-rate hack of a DJ. He’s aware that his growing headache is definitely from the drinks and having to shout to be heard, but he’s long lost track of Atsumu and Bokuto. Leaving would require finding them, and he really doesn’t want to entertain that thought right now. It would also mean dragging Ushijima and Hinata home with him and he’d honestly feel bad about doing that. Hinata lives for parties, especially since he missed an entire semester’s worth of letting loose with his best friends when he’d been in Rio last spring. Sakusa also notices that Ushijima even appears to be enjoying himself; it’s hard to tell, but the relaxed slope of his shoulders tells him that Ushijima’s not nearly as done as he himself is.
Before he can completely give in to a sulk, he’s startled by Ushijima reaching to take his stack of empty solo cups before heading off to the bar without a word. Sakusa watches him go, the stretch of his tee-shirt across his broad shoulders as he leans on the bartop to speak to the bartender. His denim jacket and Sakusa’s puffer are draped over his arm, highlighting the size of his biceps. Jesus. Sakusa needs to sober up before he does something stupid, like wrapping his hands around one of those arms to see if it’s as hard as it looks.
“Here.” Ushijima’s returned, and he hands Sakusa a sealed water bottle. Sakusa prays the almost definitely noticeable blush across his exposed cheekbones can be excused on the sweltering heat of the room. No luck.
“Are you doing alright?” Ushijima asks, hand moving to hold onto Sakusa’s elbow. The casual touch and the concerned crease of his eyes leave Sakusa’s cheeks flaming; was Ushijima doing this on purpose or was he actually that oblivious?
“I’m fine, Wakatoshi-kun.” I’d be better with your tongue in my mouth, he absolutely does not say.
Ushijima doesn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure? We can leave if you’d like.” Sakusa is touched, as he often is by Ushijima’s moments of surprising perception. But he just shakes his head and gently hip-checks his roommate.
“I said I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Sakusa cracks open the water bottle, taking long drags of the icy water. He shuts his eyes as he drinks, relieved, and misses the way Ushijima’s gaze tracks the bob of his Adam’s apple. “Besides,” he says, adjusting his mask back over his nose, “Leaving would require tracking down Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum and I’m not doing that. You want to, be my guest.”
Hinata looks over at them at that. “Speaking of, have either of you seen those two recently?” he asks, eyes skimming the crowd for his roommate and boyfriend’s distinct hairstyles.
He doesn’t need to look long; a sudden commotion from the far side of the room interrupts whatever Hinata was going to say next. Sakusa and Ushijima sigh when they hear Atsumu shout with Bokuto’s howling and the sound of scuffling bodies as an accompaniment. They put their drinks down and muscle through the crowd that’s stopped to watch the show.
There are their missing friends, throwing drunken punches that don’t even remotely connect. Sakusa vaguely recognizes the other guys as recent Delta pledges; luckily they’re just as trashed as Atsumu and Bokuto. Not having their asses beat in a fight they probably started will mitigate the humiliation of this whole fiasco, if only slightly. Sakusa assumes they’d either been sent here by those in power or took it upon themselves to stop Atsumu and Bokuto from destroying their group’s social status.
Ushijima and Sakusa each grab a tousling, squirming man, breaking the fight up before blood can be drawn. They drag the two outside, still yelling and shaking their fists, as Hinata gives their apologies to their hosts.
It’s absolutely frigid outside and as soon as Sakusa and Ushijima dump their burdens on the sidewalk they dive into their coats. “Hinata, call a cab,” Sakusa orders as he bends down, grabbing Atsumu’s jaw to look at his rapidly bruising face while Ushijima does the same to Bokuto. “I hope your wallet can survive the most expensive drinks I can find on the menu the next time we go out, Miya,” Sakusa smirks. “You too, Bokuto.” He takes a perverse pleasure in their twin groans, at least until Atsumu’s groan turns pained and his face takes on a green cast.
Sakusa jumps away as Atsumu stumbles to the nearest bush to empty the contents of his stomach. Bokuto moans in sympathy from where Ushijima has tucked his head between his bent legs.
“Hinata!” Sakusa barks, panting, trying not to panic. “ETA on the cab.”
“Sorry, Omi-san. They’re really busy tonight. The soonest one can be here is in forty-five minutes,” apologizes Hinata, hanging up on the cabbie he’d called.
Sakusa squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ignore Atsumu coughing a few feet away. “Fine. When’s the next bus.”
“The one that goes right to campus comes in fifteen, at the stop downtown. Last one of the night.”
Not ideal, considering catching that bus means booking it downtown, over the bridge, and through the crowded city center, with two sloshed idiots in tow. Not to mention the way the wind has turned biting cold. But he’s not waiting out here for a cab.
“Atsumu, Bokuto, stand up and start walking,” Sakusa demands as he stomps over to Atsumu, helping Hinata lift him from where he’s kneeling on the pavement as Ushijima hefts Bokuto to his feet. Bokuto seems steadier on his feet, whereas Hinata and Sakusa have to catch Atsumu before he can pitch over onto the ground. Sakusa grits his teeth and wedges a shoulder under the dead weight. “Miya, I swear to fucking god-”
“Here.” Ushijima’s voice is suddenly close. He bends at the knees in front of Atsumu before throwing the other over his shoulder. Sakusa’s mouth goes dry at the truly stunning feat of strength when Ushijima turns effortlessly, Atsumu dangling limply across his back like a doll. “Let’s get going.”
The four men still standing take off as fast as they can. Somehow, Ushijima’s loping gait doesn’t jostle the burden over his shoulder too badly, as Atsumu has seemed to have dozed off. Or maybe the copious amounts of alcohol in his system have finally knocked him unconscious.
They’re crossing the bridge, five minutes from the bus stop, when the wind blowing off the river cuts through his coat, making his teeth chatter. Then again, Sakusa has been clenching his jaw in anger for so long that maybe his jaw muscles are finally giving up the ghost.
He could absolutely murder Atsumu right about now. Not only did he subject Sakusa to witnessing the vilest act on the planet, he now gets to be thrown over the broad, broad shoulders of Ushijima Wakatoshi. Sakusa can’t help the resentment that bubbles up in him, nevermind the fact that being in Atsumu’s position would mean being blackout drunk on a school night. Why should Atsumu get to be manhandled by Ushijima? He already has access to the loving touch of the object of his affections; it’s not fair that just because he can’t walk right now means he gets to be where Sakusa would commit honest-to-god crimes to be.
Then again, Sakusa thinks, the view is really quite nice from here. The gleam of the street lights off of the water throw the stretch of Ushijima’s muscles into stark relief, the tautness of his arms visible through the thin denim of his jacket. Sakusa catches Hinata sending him a knowing smirk and narrows his eyes at the younger man. He should be more concerned about his idiot boyfriend dying of alcohol poisoning than Sakusa’s big gay crush on Ushijima.
By the time they reach the bus stop, Atsumu has begun to stir. Ushijima hefts Atsumu off his shoulder and deposits him on his feet on the bus line. Hinata wedges himself under his arm, support for his still wobbly boyfriend. Bokuto is on the phone, presumably begging Akaashi to let him stay over at his room for the night; it doesn’t sound like it’s going very well.
When the bus finally pulls up, they shove their way onboard and into empty seats. Bokuto takes a window seat across the aisle, still whining to Akaashi over the phone, while Atsumu curls up next to Hinata in the seat in front of Sakusa, tucks his head into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck, and passes out again. Ushijima seats himself next to Sakusa, who’s let his pounding head rest against the cool glass of the finger-smudged window. He lifts his head when he feels a muscular arm wrap around his shoulders and pull him a little towards his seatmate.
Sakusa turns shocked eyes towards him, but Ushijima resolutely faces forward, humming along under his breath to the song the student driver is playing over the bus intercom. The bus begins to pull away; when Sakusa doesn’t look away, Ushijima turns to him and bends close, mouth brushing the shell of Sakusa’s ear.
“I felt you watching me before, Kiyoomi. If you wanted me to carry you, you only ever needed to ask.”
Sakusa’s jaw has dropped to the dirty floor of the bus under his mask. Ushijima chuckles, turning away. As the bus picks up speed, rocketing back towards campus, Sakusa tries to figure out where the smile on Ushijima’s face right now falls in his handbook. He’s never seen anything quite like it before and tentatively files it under Amusement and Affection. The hand around him squeezes his hip gently, and Sakusa lets himself be pulled deeper into the comfort of Ushijima’s side.
- • - • - • -
The quintet stumbles as a group off of the elevator in their building, zombie-shuffling to their suite. Akaashi, miraculously, is standing outside their door in his pajama pants and a faded Fukurodani hoodie and takes his boyfriend off their hands. Sakusa can hear him scolding Bokuto under his breath from down the hall as Ushijima unlocks the door and helps Hinata pull Atsumu inside.
Hinata whispers a quiet Goodnight! to the last two roommates still standing as he yanks Atsumu’s shoes off and drags him to bed. Ushijima unlocks their door and Sakusa follows, stripping off his outer layers as he goes.
He unselfconsciously pulls off his jeans and shirt, too tired to care about the show he’s giving Ushijima. It’s only when he tries to slip into bed when he registers Ushijima’s presence, hands as hot as furnaces on his shoulder, guiding him to lay under his roommate’s sheets. Ushijima slips in after him and pulls the comforter over them up to their chins before finally, finally wrapping his arms around Sakusa.
This is it; this is what he’s been begging the higher powers of the universe for since he first laid eyes on this man. He falls into an easy sleep with the sensation of Ushijima’s nose buried in the back of his curls and the wide chest rising and falling evenly behind him.
- • - • - • -
When Sakusa’s alarm and the sounds of Atsumu’s hungover moans from the bathroom wake him in the morning, he can’t even find it within himself to be angry. He turns his phone down and flips over, burying himself deeper into Ushijima’s chest, smiling when he feels a leg slip between his own. He gets one unexcused skip for biostatistics anyway; sleeping the morning away in these arms is so much more important.