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Atsumu doesn’t know how he got here, but he doesn’t have the heart to complain.
By all measures, it’s an ordinary Saturday night. The Black Jackals are out celebrating yet another win, hidden in the corner of their favorite bar in Osaka, soaking up the euphoric atmosphere around them. Hinata’s proving that his nights in Brazil were not spent in vain, tossing back shot after shot and smiling through it all. Bokuto miraculously reached his limit earlier and is just cheering on the rest of them – mostly, he’s cheering on Inunaki, who’s just competing against himself after everyone else tapped out early. The rest of MSBY is in various states of disarray around the long table. Meian, in particular, seems to be questioning his life choices.
Basically, nothing seemed to be out of place.
Except, of course, for the small fact of Atsumu facing his own personal hell come to life, taking the form of one Sakusa Kiyoomi perched happily in his lap.
He always thought hell would be hot when he arrived – he never imagined it’d be so warm, so comforting where it rests against his chest.
No. Oh no.
“Omi,” Atsumu whispers, “get the fuck off of me.”
Sakusa looked back at Atsumu, frowned, and looked straight ahead again. He crossed his arms against his chest.
“No. I’m not moving,” he replied, taking both of Atsumu’s hands in his and wrapping them around his own waist. “Your lap is comfortable. I’m staying here.”
He’s right, of course. Atsumu knew he had a comfortable lap.
But, god, why does Sakusa have to make everything so complicated?
The two of them have been dating for about six months now – Atsumu had been shamelessly flirting with Sakusa after practice when Sakusa called his bluff, daring him to put his money where his mouth is and take him on a proper date.
And Atsumu never backs down from a challenge.
Especially not when that challenge gifts him smiling Sakusa across the dinner table, Omi-kun high-fiving him – and only him – during games, Kiyoomi yawning in the early mornings and curling up closer to Atsumu for an extra few minutes in bed.
For that, Atsumu would risk it all.
But they also agreed at the start to keep things private, at least for now. Things were new and tentative, and with all the invasions of privacy that come from moderate fame, keeping at least one thing private felt like a breath of fresh air.
Their privacy pact included their teammates. Atsumu had to resist banging his head against a wall every time Bokuto and Hinata ambushed him after practice to ask when he’d finally ask out Omi-san!! We think he likes you! Or just hates you less than usual! But you should do something about it!
“Omi,” Atsumu tries again. He doesn’t resist the urge to nose against Kiyoomi’s ear and just smiles when he hears Kiyoomi sigh in happiness.
Atsumu’s a weak man. He almost abandons any plans then and there. He never thought it’d be so tempting to give in, to just let Kiyoomi stay there unbothered.
But no. He has to be stronger than that, for Kiyoomi’s sake.
“Omi, we’re in public.”
“Atsumu, does it look like I care?” Kiyoomi turns to face him, trying his best to glare at Atsumu for almost taking away his seat. It ends up looking like a pout more than anything else, and Atsumu nearly melts then and there.
Maybe Atsumu’s not that strong.
But he feels the pinpricks of his teammates’ eyes wondering what the hell they were looking at, wondering if that’s really their touch-avoidant teammate sat in Atsumu’s lap.
“I think you’ve had too much to drink or somethin’. I don’t want you to regret this in the morning.”
“Tsumu,” Kiyoomi responds, twisting around in Atsumu’s lap to look directly at him. He looks far more sober than he should after a night out. “I’m not drunk. I barely finished my beer.”
He takes Atsumu’s hand in his, tracing his fingers across Atsumu’s knuckles, taking his time on each one. Kiyoomi looks so, so fond, like there’s nowhere he’d rather be. It still fucks with Atsumu’s brain to imagine that fondness directed at him, only at him, even after months by Kiyoomi’s side.
“Omi, are you sure?” he asks, knowing Kiyoomi will understand his half-spoken question, “I’m all for it. But are you sure?”
Kiyoomi doesn’t respond, and Atsumu starts to worry again that they’re just making a huge mistake. Instead, Kiyoomi – who, in all honesty, is the dramatic one in the relationship -- chooses instead to bring Atsumu’s hand to his lips, lightly kissing each fingertip before making direct eye contact with Hinata. Hinata’s too busy gaping at them to realize he’s been caught gaping.
As soon as Hinata notices Kiyoomi staring back at him, eyebrow cocked in amusement, Hinata nearly chokes and goes back to pointedly staring at his (very empty) shot glass.
“Maybe I’m not ready for everyone to know, but I’m definitely ready for these idiots to know. And stop begging me to ask you out.” Kiyoomi says the last part rather loudly, voice trying to be stern but colored with fondness in the way that Atsumu just adores.
Hinata’s blush grows stronger, if that’s humanly possible. Bokuto starts whistling (very badly), as if to avoid suspicion, before a (very drunk) Inunaki smacks him in the shoulder to be quiet.
Atsumu loves these idiots.
“They’ve been doin’ that to you, too?” Atsumu replies, pretending to be offended as Bokuto and Hinata rush to defend themselves – you guys just seemed so oblivious, and we thought you could be good together, or at least get out some of that tension, ‘cause fuck it was annoying, and see! We were right! And also—
“Well,” Kiyoomi starts, effectively cutting both of them off, “you were right. So, now that that’s cleared up, I’m going to keep sitting in Atsumu’s lap, and none of you are going to say a word about it.”
The team nods. Kiyoomi smiles softly and lays back in Atsumu’s lap, resting his head comfortably against Atsumu’s shoulder, moving ever-so-slightly to nuzzle against Atsumu’s neck. Atsumu beams, wraps his arms tighter against Kiyoomi, and lets himself indulge.
Atsumu's almost ready to admit it. He loves this idiot the most.