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Kiyoomi huffed at his appearance in the mirror, liquid eyeliner smudged on his eyelid. No matter how hard he tried, his hands shook too hard and the liner skated all over his eye. He set the pot and liner down and picked his phone back up to look at the tutorial again. How the fuck did this guy make it look so easy? He mumbled a string of curses as he watched the same guy apply the same “simple” eyeliner look for the trillionth time.
His profanities were interrupted by obnoxious banging on the door.
“Oi! Omi! Are you in there?”
Kiyoomi huffed again and rolled his eyes. “No. It’s your other boyfriend.”
“Oh, wow. Didn’t think ya were coming till later.”
“Ha ha, Atsumu. What do you want?”
“Open the door?” He pleaded from outside. “I need ta see that skin care stuff you use. Suna’s asking about it.”
Kiyoomi shot another look at his reflection, eyes still smeared in poorly-applied makeup.
“No.”
“Oh, c’mon. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before!”
Kiyoomi wrinkled his nose. “Still no.”
“Oooh Omi, are ya plannin’ a surprise for me? Well, my birthday isn’t for another seven months, but I do love the way ya look in-”
“Oh my god, Atsumu.” He looked at his reflection again. Well, if Atsumu had seen him hungover for the first time after his first victory with the Jackals, fucked-up makeup was nothing. Especially if it would get him to stop whatever path he was currently traveling. Maybe later. “Fine, fine. Come in.”
He opened the door and Atsumu bounded straight past him, flattening him against the sink counter. He made a beeline for the basket of products on the shelf above the toilet, oblivious to everything else around him. Carefully, he picked one up and showed it to his phone, where someone was on FaceTime.
“Atsumu, please tell me Suna wasn’t listening to everything you were saying.”
He placed the product back in its exact place, because he knew Kiyoomi was picky about that. Without turning and interrupting his showcase, Atsumu called back, “I said Suna was asking about it!”
He buried his face in his hands. “Just please hurry up.”
Because Atsumu loved to provide commentary about every single product, and Kiyoomi had about 15 of them, by the time he’s done Kiyoomi’s pretty sure he would’ve mastered the eyeliner. Hell, he probably would’ve graduated cosmetology school. While Suna was giving half-bored mm-hmms to Atsumu’s long-winded story about the time he’d accidentally used a cold cream on his sundae(“How the hell was I supposed to know? Omi keeps it in the fridge and it says cream!”)Kiyoomi was studying eyeliner tutorials. He made a mental oath to unlock whatever power it was these 16 year old girls seemed to harbor. Seriously, their hands never shook.
Atsumu came up behind him, wrapping arms around his waist.
“Whatcha lookin’ at?”
“Eyeliner tutorials.”
Atsumu pressed his face into Kiyoomi’s shoulder blade. “Is that why ya didn’t want me coming in?”
“Something like that.”
He unwound himself and pulled on his boyfriend’s shoulder to turn him around. Kiyoomi mentally prepared himself for Atsumu’s characteristically obnoxious laughter.
He snorted. “Shit, Omi. This ain’t your forte, is it?”
“Shut up.” A blush crawled up Kiyoomi’s pale skin.
Atsumu’s eyes widened slightly, “Sorry, sorry. Look, I can help ya!”
Kiyoomi narrowed his eyes. How would Atsumu know how to do eyeliner? He’d seen his art. It was about the equivalent of a trained monkey’s.
“I’m serious! Suna ‘n Samu usedta do it all the time in high school.” Atsumu raised his eyebrows petulantly. “It won’t help to let me try.”
Kiyoomi frowned, mulling it over a moment. He knew Atsumu was right, but he didn’t want to admit that. “Fine. But if you get it in my eye, I’m never making you dinner again.”
“High stakes! How could I live without your legendary fried noodles?”
“If you’re bad at this, you better figure it out.”
Atsumu laughed with his whole chest. It was one of the things Kiyoomi loved about him, the way his whole body lit up as his face opened brightly. “Okay, okay, I got it. Sit down.”
He let himself be pushed back onto the counter, and Atsumu stood between his legs, studying Kiyoomi’s eyes. Even after a few years of dating (and a few months of hookups, whatever), he still flushed under his attentive gaze, focused brown eyes sending his pulse flying. Kiyoomi cleared his throat as Atsumu continued to study him, pulling his lower lip into his mouth.
“What the hell’s taking so long?”
Atsumu laughed again, flicking one of Kiyoomi’s thighs. “Well, at first it was ta figure out which direction to flick it, but then it was because I like ta watch ya blush.”
The blush burned even deeper. He gave Atsumu a light shove. “Oh, shut up.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll get on it. Here, give it.” Kiyoomi handed the makeup over, brushing Atsumu’s palms calloused from hours of practice. Sometimes, when he was really sleepy, he liked to trace his hands on the lines where his palm met his fingers, where the skin was soft from Atsumu’s care and attention. He turned his attention back to where Atsumu stood, still caged between Kiyoomi’s thighs.
“Close yer eyes. And don’t flinch! Or I’ll fuck it up.”
Dutifully, Kiyoomi shut his eyes. Atsumu placed a gentle, calloused hand on his cheek, holding Kiyoomi’s face still. He could feel his boyfriend’s breath puffing gently on his face from how close he was standing, chest almost flush to his stomach. Tentatively, Atsumu put the brush on Kiyoomi’s eyelid, dragging a careful line to the outside of his eye. He continued to work, presumably doing whatever his brother and Suna had worn when they were 16, but Kiyoomi couldn’t see.
“Okay. Done! Princess Diaries reveal!” His voice was softer now, in the sacred space between their faces. Kiyoomi’s eyes fluttered open, to find Atsumu standing a few centimeters from him. His eyes were soft and deep, like the earth after rain, looking at him fondly. He hadn’t taken his palm from his cheek and it rested there now, thumb soothing over his cheek.
Kiyoomi wanted to kiss him very, very much.
They stood, gazing gently at each other, the air between them warm like a patch of sun. Kiyoomi leaned close, shutting his eyes, anchoring his hands on the back of Atsumu’s neck. Atsumu met him halfway, crowding into the remaining centimeters that separated them, hips against the bathroom counter. His lips were soft, gentle, kissing him like they had all the time in the world. Kiyoomi’s hands traveled down to Atsumu’s sides, tracing his ribs beneath soft cotton. He loved living together, loved small, languid moments like these, when it was just them in their little bubble, and he didn’t have to worry about anything except for stealing every one of Atsumu’s breaths.
Atsumu broke away and leaned their foreheads together, running a hand through Kiyoomi’s curls.
“Okay, wanna look at it now?”
Kiyoomi blew into Atsumu’s face. “Distracting me from your bad work?”
Atsumu huffed. “You leaned in first!”
“That’s just because you were looking all handsome and stuff. You did that on purpose.”
“You think I’m handsome?”
“No.”
“Omi! And here I thought I was the love of your life.”
Kiyoomi laughed, and kissed Atsumu’s furrowed brow. “Okay, okay, I’m looking now. Don’t get pissy.”
He twisted his torso to face the mirror. His gaze shocked him. Black makeup lined his eyes, meeting at a point next to the corner of his eyelids. It made him look striking, and made his already dark gaze even scarier. He was very taken with the way it struck his face, to say the least.
“Hey. You did a pretty good job.”
Atsumu’s chest puffed out proudly. “See? Toldja to trust me.”
Kiyoomi just rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around Atsumu’s shoulders. He buried his face in his neck, letting out a long breath.
“Hey. Attack on Titan is on soon.”
“I don’t feel like walking.” Kiyoomi buried his nose deeper into Atsumu’s neck, inhaling the scent of his coconut soap.
“Yer a big baby.”
“Yeah. And you should carry me. Please?” Kiyoomi leaned back and made his best puppy face.
“Don’t make that face. You know I can’t say no to that face.”
“But it’s working.”
Atsumu huffed a breath. “Fine, fine. Here, hold on.” He wrapped his arms under his knees and lifted Kiyoomi off of the counter, carrying him the fifteen steps it took from their bathroom to the living room, with a soft watch yer head when they passed through a doorway. Kiyoomi continued to cling to his torso, soaking up all of his body heat. Atsumu was like a furnace, always hot, even when frost coated the windows and snow lined the roads. Conversely, Sakusa’s hands and feet were always frigid, and he stuck them under his boyfriend’s legs and in his armpits to warm them back up. Atsumu pretended to hate it, but he always held him closer when he knew Kiyoomi was freezing.
He was dumped unceremoniously onto their couch, Atsumu flopping himself down just as roughly next to him. He picked the remote up as Kiyoomi grumbled about lack of handling with care.
“What channel was it again?”