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Miya Atsumu woke up one Saturday morning to the sound of his alarm clock beeping like there was no tomorrow.
He groaned as he let his hand slip out from under the covers to feel around the top of his bedside for the source of the sound, pressing its snooze button once he’d found it. As the obnoxious beeping came to a stop, another sound came into his hearing field. It was the distant, muffled sound of running water.
Ah.
He turned his head to the left side of the bed and found it empty, just as he expected.
Letting out a big yawn, he turned his body over and reached onto the bedside again. This time, for his phone. When his hand made contact with the cool metal, he wrapped his fingers around it and picked it up, pressing its power button with his thumb as he brought it close to his face.
The screen lit up, showing his wallpaper, which he deemed one of the most precious photos he had in his gallery. His boyfriend seemed to disagree, though. He would glare at Atsumu and groan whenever he’d mention it or show it to other people. But deep down he loved it; Atsumu was sure of that.
The photo, which Atsumu promptly kissed through the phone screen upon seeing it, was a mirror selfie of him and his boyfriend, Kiyoomi, each wearing an animal headband of his own; fox ears for him and bunny ears for Kiyoomi. They were both smiling in this picture, though his smile was way bigger than Kiyoomi’s.
The sound of running water suddenly came to a stop and out came Kiyoomi, dressed in a simple white T-shirt and a pair of loose fitting pajama pants. One of his hands was busy drying his dark curly locks with a small towel, while the other held the bathroom door open.
“Oh, you’re awake,” he said once his eyes found Atsumu. “Good morning.”
“Mmm… Mornin’, Omi,” Atsumu replied, giving him a soft smile.
Kiyoomi smiled back at him before briefly disappearing into the bathroom to hang his towel. He reappeared soon after, then walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, next to Atsumu’s thighs.
“What do you want for breakfast?” he asked.
Atsumu put his phone down on his chest and reached for Kiyoomi’s hand, caressing his knuckles once their fingers found each other. “Anything’s fine.”
“Okay,” Kiyoomi said, smiling again. “Go take your shower and meet me downstairs afterwards.”
“Aw, can’t we have breakfast right now?” Atsumu whined, lightly tugging on Kiyoomi’s hand. He felt his phone slide off the fabric of his shirt and fall onto the bed.
“No, we can’t.”
Atsumu pursed his lips together into a pout. “Why not?”
With his smile turning into a smirk, Kiyoomi leaned in closer to Atsumu and left an arms width of space between them. Then, he opened his mouth and said, in the sweetest voice he could manage, “You’re stinky.”
Atsumu, who obviously heard that, frowned and squeezed Kiyoomi’s hand a bit. “Am not!” he said, eliciting a quiet chuckle from Kiyoomi.
“Still, you need to shower,” Kiyoomi said, letting go of Atsumu’s hand to stand up. Once he was on his feet, he offered his own hand to help the other boy get up. “Come on.”
Although, instead of grabbing his hand, like Kiyoomi expected him to, the blond simply remained laying on the bed and sulked. Or at least tried to appear as though he was sulking. This resulted in another chuckle from Kiyoomi.
“Come on, you’ve got to get up,” he said. “Or do I have to carry you there?”
A smirk played on Atsumu’s lips. “Actually, that’s not too bad an idea, Omi.”
Kiyoomi scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Unbelievable,” he said, beginning to make his way towards the room’s exit. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me,” he added once he’d reached the door.
“So yer not gonna carry me?”
“Of course not!”
With that, Kiyoomi opened the door and slipped out of their bedroom, leaving Atsumu alone.
Atsumu got out of bed not too long after, chuckling and shaking his head slightly as he slipped out from under the covers and stepping onto the cool wooden flooring.
Kiyoomi was hardly ever like this in front of their friends and family; it was only with Atsumu that he would show this side of him.
Picking up his phone once again, he checked the time. It was a little past eight. Atsumu decided to take his shower after all.
After about ten minutes in the shower, he came out dressed in the same pants he wore to sleep the night before and a new sleeveless top. A small towel was in his hand, drying his still damp hair.
Their room was still cold, despite the air conditioner no longer being on.
Omi must’ve been here, Atsumu thought. He remembered the air conditioner hadn’t been turned off when he left to take a shower earlier.
He was further convinced when he saw that the bed had been made.
It was impressive how quickly and silently Kiyoomi worked. Atsumu swore he hadn’t heard a single thing while in the shower, save for his own quiet humming. And even that was almost fully muffled by the sound of running water.
The sound of a door opening and closing sounded throughout the entire first floor, alerting Kiyoomi that his boyfriend had finally decided to get up.
“Miya?” he said, not looking up from the stove. He was preparing breakfast for the two of them.
“Mmm! Omi, whatcha cookin’?” Atsumu asked, his nose in the air, sniffing every last bit of the mouth-watering scent.
“Miso soup,” Kiyoomi answered, while his hands busily moved from one spot to another, checking on at least five things at once. “Do you want to try some?” he asked Atsumu as he reached for the utensils drawer.
Atsumu’s face lit up at the offer. “Yes, please!”
After taking a spoon out from inside the drawer, Kiyoomi fished out the ladle that he’d been using to lightly stir the soup and leaned it against the side of the pot. Then, he scooped a bit and blew on it gently before carefully bringing it close to Atsumu’s lips and feeding it to him. His hand followed right under the spoon, just in case some would spill out.
Kiyoomi stood back and waited for the other boy’s reaction, watching as he smacked his lips and ran his tongue over them. “How is it?” he asked.
Atsumu put up his thumb and grinned. “It’s good!” he said. “You could put ‘Samu outta business!” That earned a genuine laugh out of Kiyoomi.
“Osamu makes onigiris,” he said, dipping the ladle back into the soup and stirring gently, “I heat up leftovers.” He gave Atsumu the spoon he’d used to feed him the soup earlier and pointed at the rice cooker. “Could you check if the rice is cooked?” he asked and Atsumu obliged.
“It is!” Atsumu said as a puff of steam rose to kiss his face from inside of the rice cooker.
He quickly closed the lid and turned to look at Kiyoomi again. He was busy opening a packet of store-bought meat with the sharp end of a knife.
“Need help?”
Kiyoomi looked up at him and shook his head. “You could set up the table, though,” he said before letting out a quiet triumphant cheer once he’d succeeded in stabbing a hole onto the side of the packet. He looked back up at Atsumu as he put away the knife and carefully tore a bigger hole with his fingers for the meat to go through. What greeted him was a small smile on the blond’s face. “What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Atsumu answered, smile still very much on his face.
Kiyoomi raised a brow at that. “Then why aren’t you setting up the table?”
Hearing that, the blond’s smile disappeared in an instant, a pout taking its place instead. “Do I really have to do that?”
“Yes!” Kiyoomi laughed. “Do you really expect me to cook and set up the table as well?”
“…Maybe.”
The oil in the pan crackled as meat plunged into it, making both boys jump back in surprise. Kiyoomi immediately reached for the cover and put it on top of the pan to prevent hot oil from splashing onto them.
He opened it again a little later, once the crackling had calmed down to add more meat in along with some chopped garlic and the rest of the required condiments. Then, he turned to look at Atsumu.
“What?”
He cocked his head towards the table, urging Atsumu to complete the task that he’d assigned to him earlier.
“I’m guessing I really gotta set it up, huh?” Atsumu said, already making his way to the dish rack.
“Hm, I wonder,” Kiyoomi said, shooting him a smirk before turning his attention back to the stove.
Atsumu eventually went to set up the table without having to be told a third time.
He began by taking out a pair of bowls from the dish rack and placing them on opposing sides of the table, followed by a set of eating utensils on either side of both bowls. After that, he sat himself down at one end of the table and waited patiently for Kiyoomi to finish preparing everything.
“Do you want tea?” Kiyoomi asked suddenly at some point. He was placing a placemat on the center of the table, where the pot of soup would go.
“To drink?” Atsumu asked back, helping Kiyoomi set the pot on top of the placemat.
Kiyoomi chuckled. “Well, yeah. I mean, what else is there to do with a cup of tea?”
Atsumu rolled his eyes. “Sure,” he said, “as long as ya don’t mind making me one.”
With that, Kiyoomi turned back to face the stove, this time getting himself a new pot to boil water in.
Atsumu, on the other hand, sat and watched from his seat how swiftly Kiyoomi moved around the kitchen, retrieving a pair of cups along with a couple of teabags from the cupboard above his head.
He thought Kiyoomi looked absolutely breathtaking, though he could only see his back most of the time. But at the rare instances that he got to see Kiyoomi’s side profile, he would catch himself staring for a few seconds too long.
“No sugar, right?” Kiyoomi asked, turning around to catch Atsumu’s eyes glued to him. “Miya?”
Atsumu shook his head lightly and blinked his eyes rapidly as if he were escaping a trance. “A little bit wouldn’t hurt,” he told Kiyoomi once their eyes met again. For the nth time, a smile appeared on his face.
“But you said just last week that you’re going to cut down on it,” Kiyoomi reminded.
Light seeped into the room through the window over the stove and outlined his figure, making it seem like he was emitting a soft glow. It was fitting somehow.
“Omi,” he said.
“What?”
“Yer so pretty, y’know that?”
Kiyoomi raised both his eyebrows.
He stared at Atsumu’s face and waited for a few seconds to make sure that he didn’t say that with intentions of teasing him. When Atsumu didn’t correct himself and gave him his signature cheeky smile instead, Kiyoomi let his expression soften and shook his head as he turned to face away from the other boy.
“You know, flattery doesn’t work on me, mister,” he said as he dropped a teaspoonful of sugar into his own cup of tea and stirred it.
“But I mean it,” Atsumu countered.
“Whether you mean it or not, I’m still not going to put any sugar in your cup.”
After a while, the water started to bubble, signaling that it had finally come to a boil. Not waiting a second longer, Kiyoomi turned off the fire and picked up the pot by its handle. He then carried it over to the side where his and Atsumu’s cups were waiting and poured the water into each cup, carefully so as to not let any of it spill out and burn him. Once all the water was gone, he placed it back onto the stove.
The view outside the little window was one that only existed in mornings like these; it was definitely one to behold. It prompted him to open the window’s latch and push it open, letting in the fresh morning air.
He closed his eyes and enjoyed the light breeze. It felt nice and cool against his skin.
He would’ve forgotten all about tea and breakfast if it weren’t for the pair of arms that had (not-so) sneakily wrapped themselves around his waist and pulled him close to their owner. It didn’t take much for Kiyoomi to figure out who they belonged to; the smell of cheap shower soap was a dead giveaway.
“What are you doing?” he asked, placing a hand on one of the arms’ wrist. When no answer came, he tried again. “Miya,” he said, “what’s all this about?”
Atsumu sighed against the nape of his neck, making him shiver from the sudden contact with warm air after a while of nothing but cool air.
“Can’t I just do this because I want to?” he asked instead, resting his chin on the crook if Kiyoomi’s neck.
Kiyoomi was thankful that Atsumu was hugging him from behind and not the front, or else he would’ve seen just how red his cheeks got from those words alone.
In fact, Atsumu had been a little too generous with his words of flattery that morning; Kiyoomi couldn’t help but wonder if there really was a hidden agenda behind his actions. But when Atsumu pulled him impossibly closer, he decided to shake those thoughts away and melt into the touch instead.
It wasn’t like they’d never done things like this before anyway; what was the point of being suspicious?
“Omi,” Atsumu whispered. His breath tickled the tip Kiyoomi’s ear.
“Hm?”
Instead of an answer, Atsumu only nuzzled Kiyoomi’s neck. “Omi,” he said again, this time drawing out the last syllable of the nickname.
“Yes?” Kiyoomi copied his tone.
The hold around his waist suddenly loosened and the warmth of Atsumu’s breath left his neck. Kiyoomi almost let his disappointment show. Instead, he turned around to look at Atsumu and their eyes met. A smirk played on Atsumu’s lips, and when it finally made its appearance, he chuckled.
“Omi,” he said his name for the nth time that morning. “Is it just me or...” His voice trailed off at the end as he smiled at the floor.
“What?” Kiyoomi caressed Atsumu’s forearm. He was getting impatient.
Atsumu moved his face closer, flustering the black haired boy in the process. “Is it just me or do you really want to kiss me right now?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
Taken aback by the words, Kiyoomi moved his face away and frowned at him. “Excuse me?”
“Well do ya?”
Kiyoomi was blushing. There was no point in trying to hide it anymore. And he knew very well that Atsumu could see it too. Even he could tell that he was turning as red as the shirt Atsumu had on; the realization made him blush even deeper.
“The food’s getting cold, come on.” He ended up saying that in an attempt to change the subject and escape the blond’s arms at the same time.
But Atsumu wouldn’t let him go.
It was ridiculous, he thought, he was the taller of the two, so how was Atsumu doing this?
“Ya can’t even hide it anymore!” Atsumu said. He watched Kiyoomi’s face for a reaction and started giggling when Kiyoomi avoided his eyes. “Even yer ears are turning red!”
As the sound of Atsumu’s giggles filled the air, Kiyoomi once again began to think of a way to escape Atsumu’s hold.
But it wasn’t because he didn’t like it.
He did.
Of course he did.
He just really didn’t want their breakfast to get cold.
Eventually an idea came to mind. It was one he almost dismissed immediately, as the thought of it made him more embarrassed than he already was. But nothing else came after that one—at least nothing better—so he decided to go with it; see what happens after he’s done it.
With that, he put a hand on Atsumu’s chest, which somehow went unnoticed by the other boy, and leaned in, pressing his lips against the blond’s cheek, before removing them almost immediately. It all happened so quickly that Kiyoomi didn’t have time to feel embarrassed about it. However, he did have time to notice the silence that suddenly fell upon the room.
Atsum’s giggles had ceased to sound, his expression puzzled and a hand on his cheek.
Did I break him? Kiyoomi thought to himself as he studied the boy’s face.
The silence continued for a few more seconds until Atsumu mumbled Kiyoomi’s name.
“Yes?” he said.
Atsumu looked up at him, another smile playing about his lips, arms holding Kiyoomi back in place. “Could'ja do that again?” he asked, smile fully in bloom now.
Ah.
Narrowing his eyes at the other boy, Kiyoomi shook his head no. Then, he put both hands on Atsumu’s chest to lightly push him away and slipped past him towards the two neglected cups of tea from before.
They had cooled down, leaving only a bit of warmth left.
“Why not?” Atsumu whined.
Kiyoomi chose to ignore that question and instead went to bring the two cups over to the table.
As he was putting them by his and Atsumu’s bowls, he was only half-surprised to feel another pair of arms wrapping around his waist. They were the same pair of arms that had manhandled him earlier.
The owner of said arms rested his forehead on Kiyoomi’s shoulder and said, “I’m not letting ya go ‘til ya give me another one.”
A sigh escaped Kiyoomi’s lips as he felt yet another surge of warmth making its way towards his cheeks.
He couldn’t help but wonder what was going on with him that morning; he was acting too much like a teenager with a crush.
After a few silent seconds, Kiyoomi ultimately gave in.
“Fine,” he said, much to the other boy’s satisfaction.
The arms retreated to their owner’s sides and Kiyoomi turned around to look at Atsumu, who was sporting a toothy grin.
He repeated the actions he’d done a while ago, only this time bringing Atsumu’s face closer to his own with a finger under his chin. He placed a soft kiss onto the shorter boy’s other cheek and pulled back once the deed is done.
Expecting to see the same grinning face from before, Kiyoomi was quite dumbfounded when he saw a pout instead.
He furrowed his brows. “What's wrong?”
“I didn’t want it there,” Atsumu answered, making Kiyoomi raise an eyebrow.
“Then where do you want it?”
Kiyoomi only realized that asking this question would be a mistake after the words had already left his lips.
Atsumu’s lips curled into a smirk and Kiyoomi knew instantly what was coming next.
“I want one here,” the blond said, tapping his index finger against his soft, pink lips. Kiyoomi gave him a look and he stared back. “Well?” he asked, obviously still expecting that kiss.
Kiyoomi glanced at the pot behind them as he put a hand on it. It felt cool to the touch.
He sighed. So much for a warm breakfast.
He looked at Atsumu again and leaned in. This time it was Atsumu’s turn to look flustered.
“Whoa,” he breathed out.
“Miya,” Kiyoomi said, stopping just before their noses could brush against each other.
“Yeah?”
“You’re washing the dishes today.”
When he leaned away, he saw that Atsumu had widened his eyes at him.
With a satisfied smile, Kiyoomi slipped past him and went to sit on his side of the table. He took the ladle from inside of the pot and began taking some soup to pour into his bowl.
Scoffing, Atsumu leaned down so that they were at eye level. “If I do, will ya kiss me then?” he asked. “But properly, of course.”
Kiyoomi chuckled. He was being persistent as ever.
“We’ll see,” he answered, rising from his seat to get a bigger bowl for rice.
The blond followed after him and leaned on the counter. “And what if I tidy the whole house?” he asked.
Kiyoomi pursed his lips, considering the offer. “That sounds nice.”
It indeed sounded nice; it’s not every day Atsumu would offer to clean anything, let alone the whole house.
“What will ya give me in return?”
“Do I have to give you something in return?”
“Well, yeah. Otherwise that would be forced labor.”
Kiyoomi rolled his eyes and shook his head. “What do you suggest?”
A cheeky giggle could be heard from behind Atsumu as he walked closer. He put his face close to Kiyoomi’s ear and whispered as softly as possible—but loud enough for Kiyoomi to hear—a sentence that Kiyoomi never saw coming.
“Miya!” he said as Atsumu moved away. He was laughing, satisfied with the reaction he received.
“So, whad’ya say, Omi? Do we have a deal?” he asked.
Kiyoomi only narrowed his eyes at him before he turned away and made his way back to the table. He stopped briefly only to say, “The house better be spotless,” which brought yet another grin to Atsumu’s face.
“Ya can count on me!” he said finally, before rushing to the table.