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It begins with a scream. Sakusa’s scream, to be exact.
“ATSUMU, HELP ME! QUICK!”
Atsumu jumps up from where he’d been curled up on the couch, already screeching back at Sakusa like they’re performing a call-and-response in the wild. In his defence, this is all part of a highly advanced evolutionary mechanism, a survival optimization in-built into Atsumu the day he was born: he is a sympathetic screamer, and he will scream if you scream.
“What is it, Omi?!” Atsumu shrieks, depositing his Nintendo Switch onto the coffee table for safekeeping and hastily beelining for the kitchen, where the source of the noise has originated. There, he is greeted by a sight so unexpected it gives him pause even as his mind races a mile a minute going through the myriad of possibilities as to why his boyfriend is screaming at the top of his lungs on an otherwise peaceful Thursday afternoon:
For some inexplicable reason, Sakusa is standing on the kitchen island.
It’s a good thing the island is bolted to the floor, because all one-hundred-and-ninety-two centimeters of him is perched on the rectangular marble slab in the center of their kitchen right now, his face contorted in terror. He is very much still screaming.
“Babe? What’s wrong?!” Atsumu asks, worriedly rushing towards him and making little shh noises like he’s approaching a spooked animal. Considering the panicked state Sakusa is in, this comparison really doesn’t seem too far off.
Sakusa turns to face him, eyes wild. “THERE’S A RAT, ATSUMU, THERE’S A FUCKING RAT IN OUR KITCHEN, I SAW IT A MINUTE AGO BUT IT RAN AWAY AND I DON’T KNOW WHERE IT WENT OR HOW FAR IT’S GONE —”
Atsumu doesn’t hear what he says next, because now he’s screaming at the top of his lungs too, and the only thought running through his brain is that he needs to get to higher ground, now. So he clambers onto the kitchen island as well, screaming all the while. Sakusa pulls him up when he struggles with his footing, and when they’re both at the summit he pulls Atsumu into a tight embrace, burying his face into his neck.
“I was so fucking scared, Atsu, I thought I was gonna die,” Sakusa sobs into the collar of Atsumu’s hoodie.
Atsumu, equally frightened himself, puts on a brave front for his boyfriend. “Shh, it’s okay baby, I got you. You’re safe now. We’re safe now.”
He strokes Sakusa’s hair with shaky fingers, and tries very hard to ignore his sudden realization that rats can, in fact, climb vertical surfaces. Barely a moment passes, and then there’s an irritated groan and Suna appears in the kitchen doorway, hair standing up every which way, having clearly been woken up from his second afternoon nap of the day.
“What the fuck are you two doing?” Suna demands, glaring at them while scratching his stomach under his T-shirt.
“Omi saw a r-rat!” Atsumu responds, voice shaking with fear. Suna blinks, still half-asleep and not yet registering his words.
“There! I just saw it! It ran in front of the fridge!” Sakusa shrieks, and then he’s screaming again.
Suna, fully awake now, widens his eyes and lets out an ear-piercing screech of terror (he’ll claim later that he did no such thing) at the realization that there’s a rat in the kitchen .
“Move, move!” Suna screams, shoving at Atsumu to hoist himself onto the island as well. Atsumu gets knocked unceremoniously into Sakusa, who thankfully steadies him long enough for Atsumu to regain his balance.
“Fuck you, Sunarin,” Atsumu hisses, dodging an elbow thrust into his face. “There’s not enough space for all of us!”
“Shut up,” Suna snaps. “There’s a fucking rat in here, what else am I supposed to do?!”
“Where did it go?” Sakusa asks quietly, peering fearfully over Atsumu’s shoulder at the tiled floor. At any other time, Atsumu would probably have melted at this uncharacteristic timidity, but right now he’s simply too terrified for any of that.
For a few gut-twisting seconds, there’s nothing but the unsteady, panicked breathing of three adult men anxiously surveying their kitchen floor tiles, and then they see it: a humongous rat, its fat and grotesque body approximately the length of somebody’s forearm, scuttling about the kitchen all while its tail flicks about the air disgustingly. Instinctively, all three of them let out a simultaneous wail of despair. Sakusa pulls Atsumu tighter against his chest, and Atsumu grabs onto his hand, squeezing so tightly their entwined fingers turn white. In his other hand is Suna’s, and it gets the same bone-crushing treatment. In turn, Suna huddles closer to Atsumu, anything to get as far away from the repulsive creature now standing on his hind legs and sniffing at the air.
“How fucking big is that thing?!” Suna shouts.
“I don’t even want to look at it,” Sakusa wails, burying his face into the hood of Atsumu’s jacket.
“It’s got whiskers! And they’re twitching and everything, oh god it’s so fucking disgusting I’m gonna throw up,” Atsumu says, suddenly feeling very, very ill. Sakusa rubs his back soothingly.
“What are we supposed to do now?” Suna wheezes, still eyeing the rat in horror.
“What time does Samu come home?” Atsumu asks, still focusing very hard on not puking his lunch out. Sakusa, bless his heart, continues to run a comforting hand along his shoulder blades. Atsumu gives his other hand a grateful squeeze.
Suna pulls out his phone from god knows where, and flicks through it quickly. “He said he was on his way home a while ago, so he should be back soon.”
“Oh, good,” Atsumu forces out. “Samu used to deal with all the rats back home. He’ll know what to do.”
Suna heaves out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank fuck. God, I love that man.”
When Osamu steps into the entryway, the first thing he notices is that it’s quiet. Too quiet.
“I’m home,” he calls, then frowns at the lack of response.
Slipping off his shoes, he pads further into the house, eyebrows furrowing more and more at the atypical silence. He would have expected to hear the jingle of Atsumu’s latest Switch farming game, or Sakusa’s murder mystery podcast, or even Suna’s awful TikTok songs, but there’s nothing.
“Guys?” He calls, voice echoing as he strolls down the hallway. “The store was further than I thought. Rin, I got you those gummies you like, and they were selling sour plum candies so I bought some of those for Kiyoomi too. There was only one bag of honey butter chips left though, so we’re gonna have to share that Tsumu, don’t you dare—”
His words trail off when he rounds the corner and reaches the kitchen, because when Osamu had stepped out to the nearest konbini, he hadn’t expected to come home to see his boyfriend, his brother, and his brother’s boyfriend, all huddled and squatting on the kitchen island like a bunch of idiots.
“Okay. What the fuck am I looking at?” Osamu says tiredly.
“Shh!” Atsumu hisses. “You’re gonna alert it!”
Osamu narrows his eyes. “It?”
“Yeah, it,” Sakusa whispers, like he’s sharing an awful secret with Osamu.
“What—”
“Samu, honey. Baby. Light of my life. I love you, but please, be quiet,” Suna begs.
Osamu frowns, then lowers his voice when he hisses, “Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?”
“There’s a rat in the kitchen,” Sakusa whispers back.
A pause.
Then a burst of laughter escapes Osamu’s lips. Three pairs of eyes swivel over to glare at him.
“A rat,” Osamu wheezes. “Three grown men, all Olympic athletes, cowering in terror atop a kitchen island over a mere rat?”
“Fuck you,” Atsumu snaps, still in a stage-whisper. “You should have seen the size of it.”
Osamu rolls his eyes, disbelieving. His brother’s not exactly the most honest person around.
“It was huge,” Sakusa agrees, looking tortured.
This makes Osamu pause a little. Sakusa’s always truthful, so his words carry more weight than Atsumu’s, but then again he’s still just as dramatic as his twin at the end of the day. It’s a large part of why they’re made for each other, after all.
“Samu, it was massive,” Suna says, and only then does Osamu believe in the largeness of this rat he’s yet to see. His Suna would never lie to him, after all.
“Alright. Where’s this chunky rodent, then?” Osamu demands, striding into the kitchen and pausing to hand the plastic carrier of snacks to the three lily-livered dumbasses on the kitchen island.
“Oh, good. I’m starving,” Atsumu grumbles, tearing into the bag of chips.
“You ate half of Sakusa’s lunch,” Suna points out, pawing through the bag for his gummies.
“So? I’m an athlete. Can’t help my big appetite,” Atsumu mumbles through a mouthful of chips.
“You say that like Kiyoomi isn’t one too,” Osamu mutters. “You’d better leave some of that for me, you glutton.”
Sakusa, who’s stayed silent all this while, suddenly lets out a blood-curdling scream, finger jabbing at something in the distance. “IT’S BACK! THE RAT IS BACK! PLEASE, NO, OH GOD!”
From behind the refrigerator, a furry blur of blue-grey darts out, attracted to the smell of Atsumu’s chips, probably. Osamu presses his hands against his ears as three resounding screams threaten to take his eardrums out entirely. Purposefully, he throws open the back door of the kitchen, and attempts to shepherd the rat out using a broomstick. Unfortunately, the pesky thing seems to have other plans, and it zooms off in the other direction, towards the kitchen island. The trio’s screams reach ear-splitting decibels, and Osamu has to will himself not to smack them with the broom instead.
“Would you look at that. It’s just a regular rat. I’ve seen way worse in the alleys behind Onigiri Miya,” Osamu scoffs, then clicks his tongue gently at the rodent. “Come here, boy.”
Atsumu stares on in horror. “This isn’t fucking Stuart Little, Samu! That thing’s feral!”
“Stuart’s a mouse, not a rat,” Sakusa points out unhelpfully.
“Lovely to know, Omi,” Atsumu shoots back.
“Why are you on a first-name basis with Stuart Little?” Suna asks.
Osamu rolls his eyes. “Y’all are nothing but a bunch of wimps.”
“You’re not wrong, but we’re self-aware cowards so your insults don’t mean anything to us,” Sakusa says faintly.
“Speak for yourself,” Suna growls. “I’m beyond offended that I’m being lumped together with you scaredy cats.”
Abruptly, the rat stops in its trajectory and just pauses, raising onto his hind legs and sniffing at the air.
“Oh, god. It’s doing that thing again,” Atsumu croaks. “Omi, I feel sick again.”
“Fuck,” Sakusa curses, then quickly pats his back. “You gotta be strong, love. Just for a little longer. Can you do that for me?”
Atsumu nods weakly. “Alright. I want you to know that I’ve always loved you, okay, Omi?”
Sakusa presses a kiss to his temple. “Shh. I know, sweetheart. I love you too.”
Osamu wearily wonders if the two of them are aware that they’re dealing with just a rat and not the fucking end of the world, but then Suna lets out a terrified whimper, and Osamu decides that yes, the world is ending after all.
“You stupid fucking thing, can’t you just leave already?” Osamu huffs angrily as the rat evades him and his broom yet again.
“Samu,” Suna calls softly, and Osamu feels his heart breaking at the pleading look he sends him. “Please get rid of it?”
“Of course I will, Rin. I promise.”
Osamu does end up keeping his promise. It takes close to two hours, but the rat is finally evicted. When the three of them eventually climb down from the island, it’s with cramped legs and stiff backs.
“Ow, ow, ow, my leg’s fallen asleep, Atsu,” Sakusa complains, leaning heavily against Atsumu’s side.
“Mine too,” Atsumu admits, and the two of them hobble off together on shaky legs.
“We are taking the longest, hottest, fucking bath in history,” Sakusa decides. “And then I’m pouring bleach over the entire kitchen.”
“You can’t do that. You’ll ruin the flooring,” Atsumu protests, voice carrying over quieter now that they’re retreating further into the house.
“So? My family owns the property, I can set it on fire if I want to. Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”
“Omi, no!”
Osamu turns to face Suna, still perched on the island, legs swinging as they dangle off the edge.
“Need a hand?” Osamu asks.
“Uhh. I don’t really want to set foot where the rat’s been…kinda nasty just thinking about it...” Suna trails off, cheeks colouring. He looks away in embarrassment.
Osamu smiles fondly. “I’ll carry you then.”
“Okay. Thanks, Samu.”
Then he bundles Suna into his arms, bridal style, and brings him to the couch in the living room.
“I can’t believe you’re carrying me,” Suna laughs quietly.
“What do you mean? I used to carry you all the time when you were too lazy to walk after practice.”
“Yeah, but that was high school. I’m a pro athlete now. And you still pick me up with no trouble at all.”
Osamu smiles teasingly at him. “Are you forgetting that I carry sacks of rice all the time at work?”
Suna smiles back softly. “Are you calling me a bag of rice?”
Osamu sets him down on the couch. Suna turns onto his side and scoots against the back of the couch, making space for him.
“Maybe I am,” Osamu says cheekily.
Suna lets out a noise of disbelief, then Osamu laughs as he slides onto the couch against him. Suna’s arms snake around his waist, pulling him closer as he nuzzles the top of Osamu’s head.
“For what it’s worth,” Osamu says softly, “plenty of people tell me I’m too in love with rice.”
Suna laughs, then pulls him closer. “Come on, let’s take a nap, you big ol’ sap. I’m exhausted.”