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“Three. Two. One...GO!”
Atsumu roared, and his character on the screen accelerated to the front of the race.
Kiyoomi groaned and watched his car spin out. “Do you have to say that every time?”
“Shh, SHH, Omi, I’m tryna win here!” Atsumu swerved his body on the couch as he took a sharp turn and almost hit Kiyoomi with his controller.
“Watch it!”
“Sorry.”
Kiyoomi was sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, and Atsumu sat criss-crossed behind him. There was an open bottle of wine on the floor next to Kiyoomi, and the smell of Atsumu’s cooking still wafted around their apartment from dinner.
They had settled in front of the TV for the rest of the evening due to Atsumu’s insistence. “Ya need to see my Mario Kart skills Omi,” he’d boasted, “they’ll blow ya away.”
“If they’re anything like your serves, I won’t get my hopes up.”
“Hey!”
Atsumu hadn’t been lying about his expertise, much to Sakusa’s chagrin. They were a few games in and Atsumu had consistently finished within the top two places. Kiyoomi wasn’t terrible, but fourth and fifth place did not live up to his standards (especially when his opponent was Atsumu). He needed to step it up and take this seriously. He couldn't let Atsumu beat him.
Kiyoomi stayed calm and still, eyes trained on the screen with intense concentration. He contrasted greatly with Atsumu’s flailing limbs and constant remarks.
“GAH, get outta here Wario, no one likes you!” Atsumu yelled and threw a green shell at his target. “YES I GOT ‘EM!”
“Could you quiet down? You’re not the only one trying to win here.” Kiyoomi used a mushroom boost and zoomed past three NPC’s.
“Aww, does Omi think he can beat me? Cute.” Atsumu smirked, and Kiyoomi scrunched his nose in distaste.
“You’re the worst.” Atsumu grinned.
The race progressed, and Kiyoomi slowly crawled up the ranks. Atsumu was still battling with Wario over first place.
“WOOO, SUCK IT SCRUB!” Atsumu cheered loudly as his car dashed in front at the last second. Kiyoomi finished just moments later, coming in third. “Ooh, someone’s gettin’ the hang of it, huh?”
Kiyoomi looked back at Atsumu while the highlights of the race were shown on the screen. “You won’t be beating me for much longer, Atsumu. Enjoy the feeling while you can.” He felt a surge of satisfaction from the flash of apprehension he saw in Atsumu’s eyes.
“Whatever makes ya feel better. Let’s go again.”
They played several more rounds, and each time, Kiyoomi was right on Atsumu’s tail. Atsumu was growing visibly stressed. His movements were jerkier and his exclamations had quieted as he focused his energy on winning.
Kiyoomi was his usual calm self, which grated Atsumu’s nerves even more. How did he get this good so fast? Atsumu had had years of practice against Osamu and Suna, who, admittedly, were some of the best players he knew. He wasn’t going to let some rookie show him up, even if it was Kiyoomi. Scratch that. He wasn’t going to let some rookie show him up, especially because it was Kiyoomi.
The screen loaded another game. “This is it, Atsumu. Be ready to get shoved off your high horse.”
“My ‘high horse’? Omi, I’m drivin’ a motorbike.” Kiyoomi could hear Atsumu’s grin.
“Oh my god. I hate you.”
Atsumu snickered at his own joke. “Love ya too Omi-kun, but yer not winnin’ this one, not on my watch.”
“We’ll see about that. Get ready, we’re starting.”
They shifted in their seats and completely focused on the screen as it began its countdown.
“Three…” Atsumu started.
“Two...” Kiyoomi continued.
“One…”
“GO!” They both shouted, and their characters took off from the starting line.
The race was intense. The NPC’s were completely ignored as Atsumu and Kiyoomi fought each other for gold.
“Damn it!” Atsumu swore as a green shell nailed him in the back.
“Oops, sorry. I didn’t know that was you,” Kiyoomi lied with a bored tone, passing Atsumu.
“Uh huh, sure,” Atsumu grumbled then let out a sharp laugh. “Look out, Omi,” he sang, “a blue shell is on its way!”
Kiyoomi groaned as he faced the inevitable strike. “See ya later!” Atsumu bragged as he left Kiyoomi behind.
“Don’t think it’s over yet, there’s half a lap left. I can still beat you.”
Atsumu huffed in amusement at his partner’s determination and relaxed as the homestretch came into view.
Kiyoomi’s mind whirled, searching for a way to catch up. He was out of items, Atsumu was getting further ahead, and when he flipped his camera view backwards, he saw an NPC quickly closing in behind him with a red shell in hand. Suddenly, his course of action became very clear.
He hit the brakes on his car, let the NPC pass, and quickly accelerated again, smirking to himself.
Atsumu saw the finish line up ahead and was cheering for himself prematurely. He was about to boast to Kiyoomi again, but then he saw it: the pulsing signal of an incoming red shell. “Shit!” His eyes widened and he straightened, frantic for a way out. He didn’t have any more items to block the projectile. All he could do was press down on the acceleration button harder and pray he was fast enough to finish the race before it hit.
Kiyoomi began to chuckle devilishly, and Atsumu almost kicked him in the face.
“Fuck fuck fuck, nonononono!” Atsumu let out a string of curses. The shell hit him seconds away from the finish line, and the NPC zoomed across it with Kiyoomi right behind him. “FUUUUUCK!”
“YES!” Kiyoomi dropped his controller and shot his arms in the air, laughing in triumph.
Atsumu leaned back into the couch and grabbed his hair in his hands. “IT’S ALWAYS FUCKIN’ WARIO. EVERY. DAMN. TIME.”
Kiyoomi laughed at his agony and rewarded himself with a swig of wine.
“Stop laughin’, ya didn’t even get first!”
“Technically, I didn’t say I’d get first. I said I’d beat you.” Sakusa passed the bottle of wine to Atsumu’s grabby hands and sighed contentedly, resting his head on the couch cushions. He turned head to see Atsumu grumble and gulp down the rest of the alcohol.
Kiyoomi watched Atsumu place the empty wine bottle on the side table and mute the TV, filling the apartment with a comfortable silence. Atsumu settled into the couch, closed his eyes, and exhaled deeply. He looked beautiful. The light from the TV cast shadows across his skin, and his platinum blonde hair was out of place from where he had gripped it. Kiyoomi watched his muscled chest rise and fall as he breathed. Atsumu cracked open his eyes and met Kiyoomi’s gaze.
“Omi-kun.”
“Hmm,” he hummed in response.
“Did ya need somethin’?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re starin’.”
Kiyoomi let his gaze lazily travel to Atsumu’s eyes, down to his lips, and then back to his eyes.
“So are you.”
Their eyes stayed locked, expressions unchanging. Atsumu’s cheeks warmed under Kiyoomi’s intense stare.
“Did you need something, Atsumu?”
Atsumu hummed. “Yeah, sure.”
“What is it?”
Atsumu smiled softly and leaned forward, puckering his lips. “I think I need a kiss.”
Kiyoomi rolled his eyes but turned to face him fully. Atsumu reached out, cupping Kiyoomi’s cheek with this hand. Kiyoomi covered his hand with his own and turned to kiss Atsumu’s palm, black eyes still trained on brown ones.
“How do ya still manage to make me blush?” Atsumu mumbled. Kiyoomi breathed out a laugh and Atsumu’s thumb stroked his cheek. Atsumu leaned in, closing his eyes.
Kiyoomi met him halfway, and their lips touched. It was delicate and slow with no sinful intent, but it was electrifying all the same. They pulled away but stayed close, warm breath ghosting each other’s skin.
“I love ya, Omi-kun,” Atsumu whispered. “I’m so lucky yer mine.” Warmth flooded Kiyoomi’s chest.
“I love you too, Atsumu.” Kiyoomi leaned up to kiss Atsumu’s cheek. “Even though you’re a loser,” he kissed Atsumu’s nose, “who lost,” his other cheek, “to me,” and he finished with a quick peck on the lips.
Atsumu stared back at him with wide eyes and a deeply offended expression. Kiyoomi drew back and laughed, eyes crinkling and smile wide. He got up from the floor and stretched, reaching for the remote before turning off the TV completely.
“Atsumu.”
Atsumu startled out of his state of offended shock and glanced at Kiyoomi. He grabbed his extended hand and let himself be pulled up from the couch into Kiyoomi’s embrace. Atsumu immediately buried his head in Kiyoomi’s shoulder and breathed in the familiar smell of his laundry detergent. Kiyoomi sighed and melted against him.
They stayed like that for a while. Just two grown men hugging each other in their apartment with only the soft glow of the hallway light.
Kiyoomi whispered in Atsumu’s ear.
“I’m the lucky one.” Atsumu’s heart squeezed, and his arms squeezed Kiyoomi tighter in response.
After a brief moment, he spoke up. “So yer admittin’ that ya only beat me ‘cause of beginner's luck?”
Kiyoomi pushed Atsumu down on the couch and walked away, and Atsumu laughed, warm and full.