Chapter Text
“Fuck Shou-kun! You do this for fun?”
Hinata just laughs at him for his efforts.
“Graceless as always Miya.”
Hanging upside down, thighs gripping the pole, Atsumu was reluctant to release his hands. For the move to be complete he had to bring his arms out and slightly back, as if replicating wings.
“Tsum-tsum, trust your thighs! They’ve never failed you before!” Bokuto, with all his beefy self, found Hinata’s choice of dance style quite fun. He wasn’t experiencing the same trauma Atsumu was.
Fuck, Atsumu’s core hurt.
He hesitantly releases his claw grip on the pole, pushing his hands slowly into position and squeezing his thighs so hard together, he could’ve sworn he heard the pole creak.
“Holy shit,” Atsumu manages to wheeze out before grasping onto the pole again and swinging his legs back down onto the floor, face flushed red.
“You did it Atsumu-san! See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Atsumu was trying really hard to be mad at Hinata, but his blinding smile and genuine enthusiasm prevented anybody from ever having any sort of negative feelings towards him.
“Strain yourself there?”
“I’d like to see you do any better Omi-kun!” Atsumu challenges with a sly smirk pulling at his lips. Banter with Sakusa has always been able to keep him going when exhausted with practice or a game, why should now be any different?
“Your wish is my command,” and with a mocking bow, Sakusa steps up to his assigned pole, wraps his right arm around it, the inside of his bicep hugging the pole to his ribs, and grips above his right hand with his left. Once assured that he is in the right starting stance by a nearby instructor, he holds tight and swings his legs up from underneath him and wraps them around the pole, thighs squeezing just as Atsumu’s did only a moment ago.
The only difference is that Sakusa was graceful, and he didn’t seem to even be breaking a sweat.
Atsumu could only stand and stare; what was he supposed to say?
Gaze fixed upon the marvel before him, Atsumu began to question his whole existence. Starting, specifically, with how the hell he got himself in this position in the first place.
*
They were all at least a little tipsy, even Sakusa, with his mask off and folded in his pocket. Running off the high of a good, hard-earned win, the team were at their regular izakaya celebrating.
The MSBY four—as they were known to the public and their fans, but just the monsters by their fellow teammates—were bickering, as they usually did, over something inconsequential to the rest of the team. The few others that were listening in for their own entertainment found the scene quite hilarious.
“I swear to ya! Even ask Samu!”
“I’m sorry Atsumu-san but you can’t be good at everything, so you have to be bad at dancing. It has been decided by the high courts,” Hinata nods to both himself and Bokuto, though Sakusa seems to be just as in agreement with his pursed lips and eyebrow raised in consideration of Hinata’s words.
“Bokkun! Ya’ve gotta believe me! Why would I lie about this?” Atsumu had no idea why this was something he needed them to believe. It’s not like it really mattered anyway, this would all be forgotten by the time they all woke in the morning.
“Hmm I don’t know Tsum-tsum. Sometimes people lie to make themselves seem cooler,” Bokuto had his ‘thinking face’ on, as Akaashi fondly called it, forefinger and thumb pressed to his chin, eyes looking up in thought and one eyebrow raised like in the cartoons. To everyone but those in love with him, it was comical.
Both Hinata and Bokuto were doing that creepy thing they did when they seemed to be on the exact same wavelength without having to verbalize where they wanted a situation to go. Again, creepy.
They both seemed to want to take this seriously but joke about it all the same. Atsumu’s poor intoxicated brain could barely keep up.
“Okay, so say we do believe you,” Sakusa finally decides to join the conversation just as he usually ends up doing, leaning forward in his seat. Though it is never to come to Atsumu’s rescue, so he braces himself for what he’s about to hear. “You only probably know how to dance in a club. You could never follow choreography or put any effort into anything that isn’t volleyball.”
“God Omi-omi! Ye of little faith! Fine then, what do I have to do to get you guys to believe me? ‘Cause I promise ya, I can fucking dance,” oh he knew he was going to regret those words as soon as they left his mouth.
“Why don’t you all test each other or something?” all four of their heads whipped to where Meian was listening in close by, amused smirk playing at his lips.
Nobody had thought of that.
So, they all turned back to each other and started scheming. They were each going to choose a style of dance and they were all going to try it out for one day. They would take it in turns to ‘host’ the others in their chosen areas of expertise and would film the results to later be posted to their social media accounts, where a poll would be put out to let their fans decide who fared the best out of the four.
When this idea was brought to Coach Foster then passed off to the team publicist the next practice, they were all given the okay to go ahead because “it’ll be good for publicity anyway.”
So much for the others forgetting about it.
*
“Close your mouth, Miya. You’ll catch flies.”
Snapping his jaw shut, Atsumu watches as Sakusa spreads his arms—just as he was supposed to prior—for a few moments, suspended only by the strength in his core and thighs, then gracefully again, brings himself back down to stand upright and give Atsumu another mocking bow.
Atsumu could’ve sworn he saw a smile dance on the other man’s lips, even if just for a second.
Walking back to his original spot, Sakusa could only be seen by looking through the mirrors lining the left-hand wall, without Atsumu making a fool out of himself and actually turning around.
The room they were in had an industrial aesthetic to it, with the exposed metal beams and wooden walls. The instructors, at the start of the session, said the place was perfect for the intended use. Atsumu could see why.
The rest of their time at the pole dancing studio went much the same way; Hinata laughing at the others’ mistakes and enjoying himself to the highest degree, Bokuto only struggling for a few poses but enjoying himself nonetheless, Sakusa seeming unbothered by it all, and Atsumu just struggling. And not just with the dancing.
He could admit, objectively, that his team was full of attractive players. Of course he can see that, he has eyes. But watching the other men swinging themselves around poles all day, he doesn’t think he’s ever had as little willpower in his life.
He says as much to Osamu later, on his way home.
“I’m just saying Samu, I have no idea how they made it look so sexy!”
“Careful there Atsumu, don’t go falling in love with any more teammates. I thought you’d gotten over your crush on ‘sunshine boy’ anyway,” unfortunately, before calling his brother, Atsumu forgot to check whether he was alone.
“Oi that was purely a professional curiosity for a setter to spiker potential, Aran. And it’s not like ya can say anything! Yer the one that’s dating their old captain!”
“Tsumu, yer just mad ‘cause he managed to ask Kita-san out successfully before you did,” his brother chimes in from a slight distance. He probably put his phone on speaker as he closed up his shop for the night.
“Shaddap Samu! Don’t act like you didn’t have a crush on ‘im either!”
“Anyway, enough talking about your old crushes on my fiancé and more talking about Atsumu being gay for all his teammates,” Atsumu can begrudgingly admit that his best friend is good for a few things—one being that he can stop the twins’ conversations derailing onto unnecessary topics.
“Shou-kun I expect, Tsumu, and I can even see the appeal in Bokuto. But Sakusa too? I thought y’two hated each other?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say we necessarily hated one another, yer twisting my words. We just… have a friendly rivalry that’s all,” who was he kidding? Everyone and their mothers knew that Sakusa and Atsumu hated each other. It was a commonly known fact.
“Yer a big fat liar Tsumu but I’ll let it slide coz I want more gossip to tell Rin. So, “objectively” you think they’re all hot?”
Atsumu sighs down the phone at his brother, imagining the shit-eating grins consuming both his and Aran’s faces.
“Yeah, I do, Samu, and now I’m just dreading the next few weeks even more,” he’s finally starting to get his point across to the two on the other end of the phone. “That was our first dance thing, so we’ve still got Bokkun’s, Sakusa’s and then my own to get through! And then our regular practice on top of that!”
“You’re being dramatic Atsumu. You have probably already got through the worst of it with Hinata’s pole dancing, depending on what the others come up with. Can I ask, though, why pole dancing?”
Atsumu rolls his eyes fondly as he recalls the story to them, “Shou-kun says he learned with his “Oikawa-san” in Brazil, and it helped build his core for receives so he just carried it on.”
“Hinata Shouyou and Oikawa Tooru. Regular pole dancers. It kind of makes sense, in a strange way, doesn’t it?” Atsumu should give Kita a heads-up that Aran will probably be asking for a pole in their living room next.
“Do ya know what the others have planned?”
Atsumu pauses for a second to look both ways before crossing the road to his apartment complex.
“Nah, but I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”
*
It was Bokuto’s turn next and Atsumu was starting to feel hopeful about this whole thing.
“So… street dance,” even under his mask, Sakusa’s displeasure was palpable from miles away.
“Yeah! I always had too much energy so Kenma suggested I do some type of dance and then Kuroo suggested different types but there were just so many! I had to ask ‘Kaashi to help me narrow it down to just one and he said that street might suit me the best so then he—”
“Okay Bokkun, thanks we get the picture,” Atsumu cuts off the ramble before it’s too late. Once you get Bokuto talking about his partners, there’s just no stopping him.
“I like it Bokuto-san! I’ve always wanted to try this out!” Because why wouldn’t Hinata be this excited?
“Alright boys, let’s see what you’ve got!” The instructor they had seemed amused with them already. Although she already knew Bokuto, she was yet to see how the rest of them would fare.
He didn’t do too bad himself, Atsumu would say. He enjoyed street dancing much more than pole dancing with Hinata. He found it was more fun and easier to move his body around, though no less tiring.
Bokuto was already experienced so he picked up on the choreography quite easily and Hinata was enjoying himself as usual, but his boundless energy, unfortunately, didn’t make up for his fumbling feet that ironically couldn’t keep a fast-paced rhythm. Sakusa, however, was much less nimble this time around. Even though Atsumu knows the man is just as sturdily built as the rest of them, his flailing arms and clumsy feet was starting to convince him that he was actually very lanky.
The fact that Sakusa didn’t seem to naturally be very good at street dancing seemed to grate on the man’s nerves, pulling disgruntled noises from him every few minutes as they practised their moves. Their instructor, however, just seemed to find it amusing and did not seem bothered at all that one of her students was having difficulties.
Atsumu couldn’t blame her, he also found the spectacle quite humouring.
“Struggle with that, did ya?” Atsumu asks as the four make their way out of the studio and into the cool September breeze.
Even with his mask slipped firmly back into place over his mouth and nose, Sakusa can still communicate with his eyes to Atsumu how he would very much like the conversation to be dropped there. Atsumu, of course, knows this but still ploughs on anyway.
“I thought the all-mighty Sakusa Kiyoomi, the only one of us who went to Uni and had a somewhat typical young adult life, would at least be able to hold his own in street dancing,” he hears Hinata giggle where he’s walking slightly ahead with Bokuto.
“I don’t know why the hell I agreed to this,” Sakusa says with his voice moderately muffled by the mask and his shoulders hunched slightly as he walks. Atsumu notices this and takes pity, taking a step back so he’s walking one step behind Sakusa and pulls his arms out to the side in a stretch. This seems to do its job and the people milling about around them on the sidewalk steer clear of the group with Bokuto’s boisterous laugh leading them and Atsumu with his flailing arms taking up the rear.
“The night is still young! We should go get dinner together. Or drinks,” Hinata suggests, spinning around to face the two men behind him.
“No thanks, I’ll pass,” Sakusa’s immediate refusal was expected. Atsumu’s, however, was not.
“Yeah, me too. Think I’ll just head home this time Shou-kun, maybe give Samu a call,” Atsumu notices Sakusa turn slightly to throw him a questioning look over his shoulder, but Atsumu just keeps his gaze focused on Hinata, who just gives him a shrug before turning back around to Bokuto.
He and Sakusa walk in silence for a few minutes before it’s time to part with the other two, to make their way to the station.
Once they’ve turned the corner leading away, farewells said and done, Atsumu notices Sakusa’s eyes glance to him every couple of steps.
“What? Do I have something on my face?” He knows he doesn’t, and Sakusa can see as much from the shit-eating grin plastered on the blond’s face.
“No,” Sakusa speaks deliberately, pacing his words. “I’m just wondering if I need to be worried. The only time you’ve ever said no to going out is when you were sick.”
And that’s a fair enough point to raise. If he were in Sakusa’s position, Atsumu would be worried too. Also, if he’s being completely honest, Atsumu has no idea why he said no, though it may have something to do with the man keeping him company at that moment.
“Nah, don’t fret yerself. ‘m not sick, just tired. Extra practice and all this dancing crap, ya know how it is,” he waves his hand as if brushing off even the mere idea of there being anything to be concerned about.
Sakusa doesn’t grace him with a verbal reply but lets out a huff a breath that could equally be either from relief or agreement.
Though they don’t talk the rest of the way to the station, it isn’t awkward. Atsumu isn’t sure why tonight is different from whenever else they’ve spent time alone together but he’s just glad it is in the first place.
*
The following week, Sakusa seems to linger on his mind. What does he have planned for his dancing thingy? How did he make fumbling around look so adorable even though he’s 6’4”? Has he ever tried pole dancing before? Is that why he picked it up so easily? How-
“Miya! Get out of your head!” Coach shouts from the sidelines. Oh, right. He’s at practice right now, with the object of his torment merely ten feet away. He probably shouldn’t be going down that rabbit hole at practice when games start in just a few weeks.
“Right! Sorry Coach, won’t happen again!”
As the days near to Sakusa’s day, Atsumu starts to get antsy.
“C’mon, it has to be something fancy, you’re a rich Tokyo boy. Is it ballroom?” He’s resorted to pestering the other man to try and get some answers.
Of course, it doesn’t work. Sakusa has grown used to him and his antics by now.
“You weren’t saying that about Bokuto,” Sakusa raises an eyebrow at him as he slips his mask into place over his nose and mouth.
“Yeah, well he’s… Bokuto.”
All he gets is a hum before Sakusa slips out the locker room door. They had just finished their final practice of the week, meaning it was Sakusa’s day of dance tomorrow.
Atsumu would follow him out if he were also ready but he stayed a little later than the rest, practising his serves.
Instead of shouting out to the other man—he knows he won’t be heard and, even if he is, Sakusa would ignore him anyway—he resigns to his fate of finding out on the day of, and sighs before turning back to his own locker.
He calls his brother on the way home to try and sort through the millions of thoughts in his head.
“The fuck is up with ya now? I’m a busy man,” Osamu picks up the phone, foregoing the greeting. Atsumu is used to this treatment so he just barrels on.
“Omi-kun won’t tell me what we’re doing tomorrow and it’s driving me crazy.”
“Don’t tell me yer actually calling me—right when you know I close—to complain about yer stupid new crush. I’m gonna hang up,” Osamu has used this threat countless times through their lives, so it isn’t a surprise when the line doesn’t go dead.
“God Samu, just help ya brother out, would ya?”
“Fine, what is it?” Comes his brother’s reply with a sigh.
“I can’t stop thinkin’ about him. Not even just things to do with volleyball or even dance, though that is definitely a recurring topic of thought,” at that Atsumu hears a disgusted “Ew” crackle down the phone but he carries on as if it were never spoken. “I’ve started wonderin’ what he did in uni, what classes he took and what kinda people he met. Like, Samu, I wanna get to know ‘im. What the hell?”
There’s silence on both ends of the call for a few moments.
“Tsumu.”
“Yeah?”
“You are the dumbest person I know.”
“What?!” He tries to question his twin, but Osamu has already hung up the phone.
*
He wasn’t wrong when he was guessing fancy, but he didn’t expect this. Though, he probably should have.
“Uwahh! Omi-san, you used to do ballet?” Hinata and Bokuto were both pleasantly amazed at the new revelation. Atsumu was still recovering from the initial shock.
They were walking into a ballet studio not too far from their practice gym. The place wasn’t too big but definitely nothing too shabby either. Like the pole dancing place Hinata took them to a few weeks prior, mirrors lined one side of the room with a barre cutting across its middle.
Morning sun spilt into the room from the front windows, giving the space an ethereal presence. Sakusa fit right in.
Nope. No, he did not. It’s strange, if anything, seeing such a tall and athletic man striding through the scene with little hesitation.
“I still do, Hinata,” Sakusa guides them through a door that leads to a corridor with three other doors branching off and a small staircase leading up at the end. “Come on, through here. We’re in the upstairs studio.”
They make their way up the stairs at the end of the hall, coming up into an attic room. The space was similar to the room they entered through with its windows and mirrors giving the same set up as the one downstairs but reflected so the mirrors were on the opposite wall. This time, the slanted roof and exposed brickwork gave the impression of an added layer of… warmth.
Atsumu thought this was strange, given his general knowledge of ballet. He thought it was a sport for stuck-up people, aloof in their everyday interactions with a heavy reliance on daddy’s money. In other words, it’s for cold insensitive pricks who grew up privileged and never had to learn what it was like to live otherwise.
This space, however, this building just off the high-street that he would never have noticed on his own, this whole new environment that Sakusa has gifted to him; to all of them…
He had no idea what he was expecting but it certainly wasn’t this.
“I know the owner, so it’ll just be us for the day,” Sakusa puts his bag down in a corner and gestures for the others to do the same.
“Why have ya hidden us away in the attic if we’re just gonna be alone anyway?” Atsumu tries to joke but it’s a genuine question too.
At first, Sakusa just gives him a shrug but then he sees the other two have stopped their gawking to hear the answer for themselves.
“More privacy this way, we’re away from the front windows but still get the light we wouldn’t from the back rooms,” he seems to have actually thought this through and planned this out. Atsumu will have to up his game for next week. “This is also the room I’m usually in so I’m more comfortable in this space.”
He mumbled that last part and said it without looking at any of the three of them in particular.
Trying to get rid of the increasingly awkward atmosphere that was somehow created, Bokuto unceremoniously dumps his bag next to Sakusa’s, places his hands on his hips and says with a grin, “Right then. Where do you want us to start?”
And, it appears, they start with stretches. Really hard fucking stretches. Like those motherfuckers pull.
Sakusa, of course, breezes through them with ease (because why wouldn’t he?) and Hinata, the absolute freak of nature, laughs his way through them.
“Owwww! Ow ow ow ow ow,” Bokuto, on the other hand, is already on the verge of tears and they aren’t even 10 minutes in.
“Bokuto, you have three partners. At least one of which, I know for a fact does yoga religiously. How are you this inflexible?” Having already completed all his own stretches, Sakusa is ‘helping’ Bokuto out with his, pushing on his back to lower his hands even further to the floor.
“I don’t know,” Bokuto whines into his own knees.
Sakusa seems to take pity at that point and releases him. He then announces that they’re going over positions before moving onto barre work.
Whilst Sakusa is manhandling a pouting Bokuto into third position, Hinata leans slightly towards Atsumu before attempting to whisper, “Atsumu-san, you’re being very quiet. Are you struggling?”
He huffs out a quiet laugh before replying, “Nah, Shou-kun I’m doin’ just fine. This is a breeze,” he sees Sakusa hear him, raising his head from Bokuto’s poor ankles, but Atsumu barrels on anyway. “I mean, I thought ballet was supposed to be hard. I’m just surprised at how easy it is.”
“Atsumu-san, you shouldn’t have said that,” Hinata manages to actually whisper to him before Sakusa is standing back up, leaving Bokuto to his trembling knees and awkwardly bent arms.
Sakusa gives a humourless laugh before narrowing his eyes at Atsmum. Oh yeah, he definitely shouldn’t have said that.
“Easy? Easy? Miya, we’re barely an hour in. I’ve hardly even started with you yet.” Hinata audibly gulps at that, knowing they’re doomed. Bokuto seems to deflate with a noise escaping him that lands somewhere between a whine and a groan.
And he wasn’t. He was telling the truth when he said he’d barely gotten started with them.
Sakusa had them at the barre first, doing some really fancy moves with names that he couldn’t repeat. They might have been French. Or Italian. Atsumu doesn’t really know—he can barely speak Japanese.
After their break for lunch, which is just some store-bought onigiri (that doesn’t even compare to his brother’s, but Atsumu would never admit that out loud), Sakusa seems to decide they’re competent enough to attempt a routine.
He tries to tell them what to do with vague hand movements and those really fancy words from before, but after seeing three equally blank faces looking back at him, he rolls his eyes and decides to just show them.
“Alright, you imbeciles, go stand to the side and I’ll show you what I mean. It’s not that hard.”
Sakusa starts in the corner furthest from the door they entered through, in second position, shoulders relaxed and his head up, posture strong and unyielding.
Even though they’ve known each other for just under a decade, Atsumu has never found the other man scary in any way. In fact, he found it amusing hearing that other people did. But at that moment, with the afternoon sun lining his silhouette through the windows, he doesn’t think he’s ever found someone he considers his equal quite so intimidating.
Atsumu is quite struck by the thought.
That isn’t to say that he has never been intimidated by someone before; of course, he has. But they were his seniors, people of authority or of higher skill than himself. Not Sakusa Kiyoomi. The man he’s rivalled since he was 15, his teammate, one of his spikers.
But right then, as Sakusa quietly counts himself in, “5, 6, 7, 8,” and takes a quick breath in before spinning into action, Atsumu feels as though Sakusa just inhaled the last of the air from his own lungs.
The steps aren’t anything difficult, just quick and hard to follow. It doesn’t matter anyway; there’s no way Atsumu would remember it even if Sakusa was going at half of the speed he already was. He was entranced, captivated in the other man’s movements.
Atsumu knows next to nothing about ballet so he can’t make any comparisons to any of the world-renowned prima ballerinas from companies with household names. However, he does know volleyball.
Watching Kiyoomi dance, even those few simple steps, is like watching a particularly good dig towards the end of a strenuous rally, it’s like making the split-second decision to set to the left even though there are three blockers waiting on the other side of the net there, then seeing the ball connect and fly through to the opposing side, slamming into the ground. It’s the same feeling he gets watching one of his spikers break their perfect form when descending back down to Earth, a spark in their eyes that every good setter longs to see; they’re in top form and Atsumu got them there.
Watching Kiyoomi now, he’s clearly in top form. He’s elegance and dexterity; he’s strength in fragility.
Back where he started, Sakusa exhales, a small smile on his face before he seems to remember where he is. Or more accurately, who he’s with.
“You want us to do all that? I could barely handle the stretches!” And like it’s nothing at all, the spell is broken.
Sakusa’s shoulders slump ever so slightly as his posture loosens. He rolls his eyes before walking back to the centre of the room, but he still seems content, judging by the set of his eyes.
Hinata is already bounding over, eager as always to absorb all he can, with Bokuto traipsing behind him. While they try to compromise for some easier choreography with an immovable Sakusa, Atsumu takes a second to gather himself and his breath again.
He doesn’t realise he’s zoned out—trying to get his thoughts back in order—until an uplifted Bokuto is suddenly in his face asking, “Still with us Tsum-tsum? Omi-omi is just letting us off the hook!”
“Yeah! He said there’s no point forcing us to do it and we’ll probably ruin ballet for him anyway,” Hinata laughs as he skips over to his bag to pack his things.
Wait, they’re done?
“Woah woah woah,” everyone stops packing away their things to turn to him. “Who said we were being forced? No, I wanna do this.”
Bokuto looks between him and Sakusa, who was packing away his own things, waiting to see if they have to stay after all.
Sakusa seems to think it over for a few seconds before coming to a decision and saying, “Okay. You two don’t have to stay, seeing as though you’re both so eager to leave. But this will be taken note of for when the poll goes out.”
Hinata salutes him and Bokuto blurts out a quick “Okee dokee!” grin still plastered on his face. They both quickly finish collecting their things and they’re off, back out the way they came in and within the minute, Atsumu can see their ridiculous hair from out the front window, bounding towards the station.
“So,” Atsumu know that voice. It’s Sakusa’s ‘you’ve done something embarrassing and amusing to me but you don’t know it yet’ voice. “You think you can fare better than dumb and dumber?”
“Duh. Who d’ya think I am?”
“An idiot.”
“Ouch, Omi-kun. Words can hurt, ya know?”
“I’m sure a fist would hurt more.”
“Ouch!” Sakusa just huffs a breath and starts walking back towards the centre of the room, facing the mirrors.
“Well, do you want to prove yourself or not?” And, well, he wasn’t going to refuse such a blatant challenge as that, was he?
Sakusa was surprisingly patient with him throughout the rest of the afternoon, though it seems as though he thinks it’s against his better judgement.
He walks Atsumu through the steps of the routine he put together, repositioning him when he needs it and encouraging him when he is able to seamlessly move from one step to the next.
By the time they decide to get Atsumu to attempt the routine in full, and with music, the sun has already started to set. As Sakusa sets up his phone on the speaker next to his bag, Atsumu takes his place near the window, exactly where Sakusa was only a few hours prior.
“Banana back,” Saksua speaks without glancing up from his phone.
“Huh?”
“Your posture is crooked, Miya. Have I taught you nothing today?”
“Right, right. Sorry Omi-kun,” Atsumu sends him a grin at the nickname, to which Sakusa finally looks up to throw him a glare.
Atsumu fixes his posture, mimicking his vivid memory of Sakusa from earlier. He manages to see Sakusa put his phone down in his peripheral vision and he takes that as his cue to take a deep breath in.
Sakusa counts him in, in time with the music and he takes the first step.
Atsumu is pouring all his concentration into not falling flat on his face. It’s a challenge considering how intensely he feels Sakusa’s gaze watching his every move, searing heat forcing him to strive for perfection with every step.
By the time he finishes, he has started to sweat a little and attempts to discreetly wipe away the few drops making their way down his forehead. Atsumu exhales shakily as he prepares for the brutal onslaught of Sakusa’s criticism, telling him all the minuscule mistakes he made.
“Huh.”
Huh? Huh?! Is that all he gets?!
“What? Surely, I couldn’t have been that bad. You do remember Bokkun’s butchering of the shit form earlier don’t ya?” This manages to bring Sakusa’s lips into a small smile, pulling at the right side of his mouth.
Sakusa puts Atsumu’s phone down from where he was recording the dance for the poll and looks up to meet Atsumu’s eyes when he elaborates more on his thoughts. He looks sort of… proud? No, surely not.
“You actually didn’t do too bad. Well done, Atsumu. You managed to exceed my expectations.”
“Uhh… thanks? I mean,” he manages to get himself back together to save face. “Of course I was amazing. Like I said, who do ya think I am?”
“Still an idiot. I stand by my own words. You weren’t terrible but you could still have done better. But it’ll do for today, I’m tired of everybody’s loudness and we have practice early tomorrow, Miya. Get your stuff so I can lock up.”
It was at that point that Atsumu realised he was still stood, a little dumbly, in the spot where he finished the dance. He shakes himself out to clear his head and struts over to where Sakusa was crouched, now collecting his own things and getting ready to leave.
When he squats down next to him, Sakusa throws him a passing glance and Atsumu responds with a smirk and a wink to which the other man rolls his eyes and just looks away.
They’re in silence as they pack away their things, Atsumu taking a few sips at his water bottle before shoving it into his gym bag and Sakusa winding up the wire to his phone charger before slotting it into a pocket on the inside of his own bag.
When they’re both all finished and slipping into their jackets, Atsumu realises they both haven’t eaten since lunch. Osamu would be appalled.
“Hey, Omi, ya don’t have any plans for tonight, do ya?”
They’re making their way back down the hall towards the room at the front of the studio, their footsteps echoing in the narrow space.
Sakusa waits until they have both stepped outside and he has begun locking the door before he replies, “No I don’t.”
“Cool, I was thinkin’ of getting’ some ramen from the place 'round the corner from the gym. I’d be lonely goin’ on my own, so I wanted yer company!” Atsumu stuffs his hands into his pockets, gym bag swung over his left shoulder, and graces Sakusa with one of his genuine grins that crinkles his eyes and makes the dimple in his left cheek more prominent.
Sakusa looks stunned for a moment but quickly slides his mask into place and averts his gaze forwards as they start walking down the street.
“Sure, if you’re paying,” Atsumu doesn’t have to see to know the other man is smirking at him.
“Yeah, yeah whatever it’s only ramen but yer paying next time,” he retorts back.
So, they make their way towards the gym they use for practice but at the last turn, they turn down a side street instead of left.
The sun had already started to set when they left the studio but now it’s leaving the streets drowned in golden light as the shadows of alleyways grow longer and darker. Never one to miss a good opportunity to post to social media, Atsumu whips out his phone.
“Take a selfie with me Omi-kun!”
“Ew, no,” he furrows his brow and Atsumu knows he’s making the disgusted face that he learned from Bokuto’s Kenma-kun.
“Awe don’ be like that!” he opens up the camera app and makes sure it’s using the front-facing camera. “C’mon, it’s good lighting! Just one, I promise.”
Atsumu has taken to bringing his hands together in a begging motion—almost looking like he’s praying—with his phone squished between them. He has a stupid pout on his face that his brother would slap off if he were there. But he isn’t, so it stays.
Sakusa closes his eyes and stops walking. He takes a deep breath and sighs, and Atsumu takes this for the reluctant acceptance that it is and hops the couple of steps distance between them and leans into Sakusa’s shoulder.
“Knew ya couldn’t resist me, Omi-kun,” he grins when Sakusa opens his eyes to glance slightly down at the blond.
Atsumu brings his phone up, camera app still open and ready, and snaps at least five photos before deciding it’s enough. He brings his phone back down and looks through the photos he took.
He doesn’t realise that Sakusa is looking at the photos with him, over his shoulder until the other man speaks.
“Just one he says,” Atsumu jumps slightly but tries to hide it with a cough. “Atsumu, there’s at least seven there. I think I counted nine but that could be an underestimate.”
“I’ve taken them now, there’s nothin’ ya can do,” he waves his hand blindly behind him to get Sakusa to back away from him slightly.
Sakusa just makes an uncommitted noise and starts walking again. Atsumu, still looking down at his phone, lets a small smile pull at his lips when he joins Sakusa but one step behind.
“Get off your phone or you’ll bump into someone,” Sakusa says without having to look behind him.
Atsumu is still giddy so he can’t think of a snarky rebuttal immediately. Instead, he just slides his phone back into his pocket and joins Sakusa at his side again as they start to near the ramen shop.
The ramen shop is only a little stall with no indoor sitting area so the two have to sit at the bar side-by-side.
When they’re both seated and have given their orders, Sakusa with his mask off ready, they settle into a comfortable silence. Though Atsumu has never been good with silences, comfortable or not.
“So, ballet huh?”
Sakusa sighs (he seems to be doing that a lot lately) and takes off his mask before turning to Atsumu.
“Yes, ballet.”
Atsumu makes a ‘go-on’ gesture with his hands and hopes the expression on his face is encouraging.
“Fine,” Sakusa takes a breath before continuing. “My parents wanted me to be ‘cultured’ and well-versed in the arts, so they made me start dance lessons and set me up with tutors for learning a few classical instruments.
“It wasn’t all bad, though violin wasn’t all that fun. I ended up dropping everything by high school anyway so I could focus on volleyball. Ballet stuck though. I liked the discipline and it’s more of a workout than people think.”
That seems to be all the explanation he’s willing to give so Atsumu takes a moment to mull over the words.
“A few instruments?” Atsumu asks.
“Yes. Violin, piano, and clarinet. The clarinet was only for a few lessons; mother couldn’t stand the noise when I was practising so that was dropped almost immediately.”
“Piano…” Atsumu had always wanted to learn how to play, so he says as much. “I’ve always wanted to learn but we didn’t have enough time and Ma couldn’t afford a private tutor.”
“Hmm,” Sakusa waits a moment as they’re served their ramen. “Piano isn’t a very glamorous instrument to learn. I would think you’d prefer guitar or drums to release all that energy.”
“Well, what can I say? I’m full of surprises.”
They both seem to think this is a good place to end their conversation, so they say their thanks for the meal and start to eat.
Whilst they’re slurping at their ramen, they make casual conversation about volleyball and certain plays they want to perfect. When they’re finished, they pass their bowls back and Atsumu pays their bill.
As they’re getting up and ready to leave, they lapse back into another silence.
They both just stand there awkwardly throwing glances at each other before Atsumu decides he would rather die than stand there looking stupid any longer.
“Okay so ‘m gonna head to the station now before I miss the last train! Ya headin’ that way too?”
“No, I live near the gym. It’s convenient.”
“Ah, right, fair ‘nough,” Atsumu gives him a tired smile, too exhausted to do much more and gives him a small wave before swinging his bag back over his shoulder. “I’ll be off then. Night, Omi. Have a safe trip home.”
Sakusa just gives him a nod in response as he slips his mask back into place.
Turning on his heel, Atsumu makes his way back towards the station. It’s dark at this point so he has to pay careful to which streets he needs to turn down to avoid getting lost.
When he finally gets to the station, his train is already pulled into the platform, so he has to rush to make it in time. When he’s successfully on the train, huffing a little to catch his breath, he takes a look around and notices he’s alone in the cab.
He slumps into the nearest seat and takes out his phone to keep his mind occupied for the short ride home.
The first thing he sees when he unlocks his phone is one of the pictures he took earlier with Sakusa. In this particular one, he has a stupid grin on his face, a peace sign thrown up with his hair slightly tousled from the autumn wind. Sakusa, with his mask still firmly in place, is also giving the camera a peace sign, following Atsumu’s lead, and is looking off to the side.
Surely not. He can’t be looking at Atsumu. That’d be stupid. He’s just imagining things. And even on the off chance that Sakusa was looking at Atsumu instead of the camera, it would probably only be to see what kind of pose he’s making.
Yeah, that makes sense. It probably only lasted a second and Atsumu just so happened to have caught it on camera. It’s a mere coincidence.
Instead of giving himself the chance to dwell on it further, Atsumu locks his phone and shoves it back into his pocket. Leaning his head back against the seat, he shuts his eyes and decides that today has been a good day. He’ll have to call ‘Samu tomorrow to boast about his successes.
*
Atsumu doesn’t get the chance to call his brother the next morning like he planned, because he’s too busy rushing to practice.
“Yeah, yeah I know I’m late. Sorry Coach, sorry Cap’n,” Atsumu calls through the ajar gym door before making his way into the locker room.
He’s alone when he walks in, so he assumes everyone else has already started warming up and rushes to get ready and shove his stuff into his assigned locker.
By the time he’s finished warming up with everyone else, Atsumu has forgotten all about calling his twin with all his focus aimed at volleyball. This means that by the time he’s walking through his door after practice, he’s only thinking about the afternoon nap he’s had scheduled all day.
So, when he throws his gym bag on the couch and hears an “Oomf” come from it in response, he just about shits himself.
“Jeez, Tsumu, so much disregard for yer things,” Osamus drawls from where he’s lounging on Atsumu’s couch, phone in hand.
“God-damn-it Samu! That key is fer emergencies!” Atsumu replies with his hand over his rapidly beating heart while he catches his breath.
“Ya know that was never gonna happen. Yer just lucky Rin ain’t with me or he’d be all up in yer shit again.”
“Yeah, thanks for that reminder,” Atsumu tries his best not to recall the time when Suna found his old journals from high school. “Why’re ya here, Samu? Move yer feet, ya slob.”
Atsumu pushes Osamu’s feet off his couch before slouching onto it in their place.
“Ya mean ya forgot? Again?” Osamu shakes his head in disappointment.
“Oh shit, sorry Samu. Just been busy ‘n all with practice ‘n that dancin’ shit. I’ll order some take out for dinner,” he moves to get up and get his phone again, but Osamu nudges him with his elbow in a gesture to stay where he is.
“It’s fine, I’ll find somethin’ in that crappy kitchen of yers later. But tell me how ‘that dancin’ shit’ is goin’.”
Atsumu huffs out a sigh as he thinks of how best to reply.
“It’s goin’ good. I’m definitely gonna win the poll. I mean, Shou-kun and Bokkun both pussied out yesterday tryna do Omi’s ballet.”
“Ballet?”
“Yeah, it wasn’t actually that bad but people who do it have my utmost respect now because Omi was definitely going easy on us.”
“Sakusa was goin’ easy on ya? Ha! I doubt it,” Osamu shoves at Atsumu again who retaliates by just falling onto his brother. Osamu makes no move to push him off, so he stays there, laying over Osamu’s legs.
It’s quiet for a while after that, both boys seemingly tired from their days, and Atsumu has just started to fall asleep when he hears the other lock his phone and say, “So, Sakusa Kiyoomi huh?”
Atsumu sits up again and rubs at his eyes.
“Wha’? The fuck are ya goin’ on about now Samu?”
Osamu just stares at him incredulously and Atsumu knows exactly what he’s thinking. ‘There’s no way we’re related. He’s so dumb.’
“Ugh, out with it ya scrub.”
“Yer telling me that there’s nothin’ going on between you two? I may not know your precious Omi-kun but I sure as hell know you. This is what ya were like when you were tryna hide yer stupid crush on Kita-san.”
“Wait,” Atsumu says, now fully awake and alert. “Ya think I have a crush? On Omi-kun? Nah.”
He nervously laughs and flaps his hand in a dismissive motion before he gets up to make his way to the kitchen. On his way there he shrugs off his jacket and throws it blindly behind it and, judging by the sound his brother makes, it successfully landed on Osamu.
“Don’t just brush this off,” Osamu shoves Atsumu’s jacket off and onto the couch before making his way over to Atsumu to crowd him in the kitchen. “Ya know I’m on ta something and yer just in denial.”
He points at Atsumu accusingly who just ignores him and instead asks, “D’ya want some tea? Talkin’ about Kita-san has got me in the mood for some oolong.”
“See? Yer avoiding it! And yeah, sure I’ll have some tea.”
“I’m not avoiding anything,” Atsumu states as he puts the kettle on to boil before turning to face his brother head-on. “Yer just mistaken ‘nd I’m not gonna… entertain yer stupid ideas.”
“Whatever, I’ll drop it fer now but we’re coming back to this. Where’s yer phone? I wanna ring Rin real quick.”
“Use yer own phone!” Atsumu demands.
“It’s almost dead, Tsumu. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t,” Osamu walks back towards the living room and mumbles, “Like I’d wanna touch yer shit if I had the choice.”
“Oi, that’s rude. I’m being very hospitable letting ya stay here and this is how you treat yer dear older brother? I’m appalled, really.”
“Shut up Tsumu. Yer only older by like seven minutes. Are ya gonna let me use it or not?
“Fine,” Atsumu sighs and waves his brother off before turning back to the tea. “It’s in my jacket in there.”
A few seconds of quiet with just Atsumu pouring the water before, “Ya were sayin’ Tsumu?”
Atsumu turns around to see Osamu holding his phone up for him to see. It’s unlocked and the photo that Atsumu has taken to admiring of him and Sakusa from yesterday is displayed proudly on the screen.
He promptly turns around to hide the red in his cheeks before mumbling out a half-hearted, “Shut yer trap.”
Osamu only laughs at him before going to call his boyfriend.
*
Atsumu had called up the centre weeks ago, not wanting to be last minute and it all turns out like shit. Sure, he could’ve found an actual studio like everyone else had but this felt more… right.
So, they’re all there, early Sunday morning, making their way back to Atsumu’s hometown on a train that is way too hot for early October.
“Atsumu-san, why are we going so far away for this?” Hinata questions from the seat across from Atsumu, squishing Sakusa into the corner.
Bokuto next to him, nudges Atsumu’s ribs with his elbow and asks, “Yeah, Tsum-tsum, what have you got planned for us anyway?”
“Yer all being dramatic,” Sakusa snorts from his spot, looking away but still clearly listening. “It’s not a long ride and ya can all wait until we get there, like you all made me wait.”
Atsumu throws a pointed glare in Sakusa’s direction, who just ignores him and keeps his focus on something out of Atsumu’s own view.
The train ride was only 45 minutes in length so when they got there around mid-morning, everyone was still slightly fatigued and walking slower than usual. Well, almost everyone.
“Uwah! Atsumu-san, this is where you grew up? This place is so cool!” Hinata bounds a few paces in front of them, as energised as ever.
“Watch it, Shou-kun. Don’t go too far or ya’ll get lost,” Atsumu admonishes with a smile on his face. Hinata’s energy slowly charging everyone else’s batteries.
Hinata just laughs, like the little ball of sunshine he is, and just skips further ahead.
They walk for a few minutes, Atsumu reminiscing on home and roaming these streets with the people he holds dear.
Aran laughing at him in the parking lot of the convenience store where he fumbled his first kiss, the other girl giggling at him as she walked away with a wave. Suna shoplifting a pair of sunglasses from the shop down the street, pulling Atsumu along by the wrist and laughing his head off while they run away form the tired security guard; Osamu reprimanding the both of them from where he runs a few steps ahead. Kita walking him home from practice after he stayed just a little too late because he didn’t want him walking home alone at night.
And Osamu. Osamu finding him crouched outside the pet shop crying after getting separated from him and their Ma. Osamu scruffing up his hair on the walk to school the day after the bleach disaster. Osamu making him fatty tuna, making sure he eats it all before they go out to play with Aran and the other kids. Osamu lying with him under the stars in the forest, telling him his dreams of opening up a restaurant after they just made up from that soul-crushing fight.
Osamu and him finding this sports centre together one summer during elementary school. The day they found volleyball. It was also the day they found dance together.
“In here Shou-kun! You’ve gone too far!” Atsumu shouts to the stray ginger.
They walk through the glass doors at the front into a modest reception area, the sounds of squeaking shoes and balls slamming onto the ground reverberating through the space.
“Hey,” Atsumu steps up to the counter and smiles down at the old lady on the other side. “I’m Miya—”
“Atsumu! Yes, hi! Sato-san is waiting for you just down the hall sweetie,” the receptionist smiles at them all one-by-one and points them down the corridor to their right.
“Thanks,” he throws her another smile before gesturing to the others behind him to follow him down the hall.
Most of the doors leading off the hall are either open or ajar. The first on the left shows a yoga class full of middle-aged women who all start to fumble as the four walks past—Atsumu throwing in a wave and wink for good measure. The first door on the right is shut but the second, and last, has the door thrown wide open to show a large gym with three nets set up in a row creating three separate courts.
Atsumu takes a quick glance in but carries on unperturbed so the other three also pay it no mind. That is until they all hear the unmistakable sound of a volleyball slamming onto the ground followed by an enthusiastic “Nice kill!”
The blond only realises he’s lost his teammates when he gets to the third door on the left, about to open it, and turns around to see them all congregated at the open door to the volleyball courts.
He rolls his eyes at them with a fond smile on his face and traipses over to them ready to drag them away but when he gets there, he sees a familiar face.
“Matsu-chan!” he calls into the gym, where about thirty ten-year-olds are running around with volleyballs.
The man who had just come down from a demonstrative spike looks over to the door and visibly brightens at the sight of the group.
“Hey, Louder Miya! Come to help out again?”
At that, three questioning gazes are turned on him, so he just laughs as he waves him off and says, “Nah not this time, got my own stuff planned for today with Sato-san.”
“Ah, right well don’t forget to come say hi before ya leave if we’re all still here. The kids love ya,” Matsui gives Atsumu a knowing smile before gesturing to the group of five or so kids huddled at the door trying to all say hi at once.
“Hi Atsumu-san!”
“Miya-san Miya-san!”
“Are ya gonna play with us?”
“Woah! Are these yer teammates? Are they as good as you?”
The other three seem to be too stunned to move so Atsumu humours the children before ushering them back into the gym. Once they’re all focused back inside, practising tosses and receives, Atsumu nudges his teammates into motion and urges them towards the door they need.
He guides them all in and they each bow to, who is presumably Sato, in greeting before taking off their jackets and placing them down with their bags in the corner.
“Atsumu, how are ya? Is yer ‘Samu still ravin’ about onigiri?”
“Heya, Sato-san,” Atsumu replies easily. “All good on my end. Samu opened up a shop actually. There’s one over in Osaka if ya ever wanna try it out. How’ve you been? Still trying to teach rowdy kids how ta throw their lanky limbs around and make it look good?”
“Always were a little shit weren’t ya?”
Atsumu lets out a gasp in fake offence as Sato turns to greet the others with a genuine smile on his face.
“Hi there. I’m Sato Hiroki, I used to teach Atsumu tap before he decided he was too good for it and put all his energy into volleyball,” Sato bows to the three who bow back in greeting.
“I’m Hinata Shouyou! And that’s Bokuto Koutarou,” he points to his left where a proud Bokuto is gladly showing himself off. “And that’s Sakusa Kiyoomi.”
“I’m pleased to meet you all.”
“Sato-san ya’re always so mean t’me,” Atsumu pouts which earns him a smack on the head from the elder man.
“And you promised to visit more but you only ever come to help out with that workshop across the way so here we are.”
“Tsum-tsum! You don’t visit your old sensei? Atrocious!” Bokuto point at him accusingly, a scandalous look gracing his features.
“Bokuto just because all the people you hold dear live with you doesn’t mean it’s that easy for everybody else,” Sakusa come to his rescue.
“Alright, why don’t we get started! You’re filming this aren’t you?” Sato attempts to pull Bokuto from his steadily declining mood.
“Yeah!” Bokuto brightens. “Am I alright just setting it up over here?”
With a nod of okay from Sato, Bokuto begins setting up the tripod and camera in the corner of the room.
“Did you say tap Sato-san?” Hinata asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Yes, I did. Atsumu already gave me yer shoe sizes so I was able to rent some shoes for ya.” Sato gestures behind him to where four shoe boxes lay.
Atsumu squats down to them to take a look and passes them out to the right person before putting his own pair on.
Once they’re all ready with their shoes tied properly, they all congregate to the centre of the room (with a “Woah they’re clicky!” from Bokuto and a “Yeah!” in agreement from Hinata), reminiscent of the week prior with Sakusa. Except this time, Sakusa is stood with them.
“Okay, now that yer all ready, let’s get started,” Sato beams at them with energy like that of Hinata but in a much older vessel.
They start with the basics like step ball changes and step-outs which they all seem to pick up quite easily but, because they’re adults and like to get cocky, they quickly move on to things that are more difficult.
By lunchtime, they’re all sweating but everyone seems to be having fun—even Sakusa, a small smile on his lips as he speaks to Sato, which Atsumu is very pleased by. He wasn’t sure how they would all react to this and where he had taken them but not one of them even seemed to bat an eye. Probably because they’re all more than used to Atsumu’s dramatics by now and have learned to just roll with his whims.
After lunch, which they spend talking to the kids at the volleyball workshop instead of resting like they were supposed to, Sato says that he’d like them to come up with a routine of some sorts with the steps that he’s taught them so far.
Of course, Hinata and Bokuto are excited by the mere prospect of this but Sakusa seems a bit more reluctant.
“Omi-omi, no need to look so worried! Ya might get wrinkles from frowning so much,” Atsumu leers at him.
“I just think that, if it’s up to these idiots to come up with a routine, then we won’t be doing your style any justice.”
“Awe, yer worried about disappointing me?”
“No,” Sakusa disagrees, just a little too quickly. “I’m just worried about offending Sato-san.”
Both Atsumu and Sato laugh him off then they all set to work to come up with some sort of choreography.
It takes them a few hours, but they managed to come up with something they all agree on and can all do. It doesn’t even look too bad with all their flailing limbs (including Atsumu who hasn’t practised tap in quite a few years) and second-guessed steps.
By the end, though, when they show their monstrosity to Sato he seems pleasantly surprised by what they managed to come up with. Atsumu does notice that he seems to be holding back a laugh too.
“Ya know what? That ain’t half bad,” he praises them before they all say goodbye to the video and get ready to leave.
All packed off and ready to go, the other three bows in farewell to Sato before leaving Atsumu and him to have a moment of privacy to say goodbye properly.
“Thanks for having us Sato-san. Are ya sure I can’t pay ya fer the trouble?”
“Nah, yer all good,” Sato pats Atsumu on the shoulder with a gracious smile. “Just remember to come visit and if ya ever want to start lessons up again, I’ll always happily whip ya back into shape.”
“I know. I’ll keep it in mind, thanks Sato-san. Again.”
He gives him one last cheeky grin before going to walk out the door to meet with his teammates.
“Oh and, Atsumu?”
He turns around, hand on the door handle, “Yeah?”
“You were always happy when you danced. But I’m glad ya found something that makes ya even happier.”
“Oh,” Atsumu feels a flush start to creep up the back of his neck. “Thanks, me too.”
And with one final nod of acknowledgement, Atsumu walks out the door to his teammates all in a discussion about their day.
“And then when you were like tippity-tap-tap and Atsumu-san was all tappity-tip-tip—”
“Alright, monsters, let’s go before we miss the train!” Atsumu starts to herd them all towards the front entrance, the final glow of sunset dipping into the reception area through the windows and glass doors.
On the walk back to the station, it’s clear to Atsumu that the day has worn his friends out, so he tries to keep them awake and attentive with conversations about their upcoming matches.
They only just make it to the station in time, the train pulling into the platform just as they arrive, so they’re all hustling inside and when they finally manage to collapse into their seats, there’s a collective sigh released from the four.
Nobody else attempts to start a conversation now that they are all safely back on the train home which means that Bokuto and Hinata aren’t prevented from falling asleep. This time Hinata is sat beside Atsumu with his head resting on the blond’s shoulder with Bokuto mirroring him on the other side with Sakusa.
Sakusa, himself, is leaning his head back against the window and, with his mask on, Atsumu can’t see his face to tell whether he is asleep too, or not so he decides to leave him be just in case and starts looking at his surroundings.
He takes to looking at the other passengers in the carriage but that gets boring after five minutes with there being only a harassed looking businessman on the phone with someone who sounds important, and a young mother corralling her two children three seats away.
Instead, he watches the view from the window as they pass by different building and through different areas.
Atsumu doesn’t realise he’s zoned out until something nudges his foot and he’s shaken from his dazed state. He shakes his head to clear it and looks down in time to see Sakusa’s foot retreating back to his own side.
“You were staring into space. It was starting to freak me out,” Sakusa tells him, clearly not asleep.
“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that Omi-omi,” Atsumu looks up to the other man and attempts a smile but it’s broken off by a yawn.
“Sleep if you’re tired, idiot. I’ll wake you all up before our stop.”
“Nah, if I sleep now, I won’t be able to sleep tonight and we don’t want me being crap at practice tomorrow now, do ya?” he achieves a sleazy smile this time.
Sakusa rolls his eyes at Atsumu’s antics but leaves it at that until five minutes later when he asks, “So, tap huh?”
He’s got that crinkle by his right eye so Atsumu knows that Sakusa is smirking when he mimics his words.
“Yeah, I started it when I started volleyball actually. Me ‘n Samu came across it by chance when we were looking for the room with the workshop in. I just really liked the noise the shoes made so I made my Ma pay for lessons and I did it fer years. I mean, I loved it, but ultimately, I loved volleyball more and Samu didn’t last more than three lessons anyway so there was nothing keeping me there. Oh, shit I just totally rambled at ya, sorry,” Atsumu sheepishly ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment.
“No, it’s fine,” Sakusa reassures him. “And, I totally get it, by the way. Why you quit. It’d be stupid to expend your energy on something you don’t deem worth it.”
“Yeah,” Atsumu risks another quick look at Sakusa before ducking his head back down after seeing the other man already watching him intently, leaning forward in his seat with his forearms resting on his knees.
The rest of the ride is spent in companionable silence, the clicking of the train along the tracks and the muffled announcements lulling the boys into a fissure in time, shielded by each other’s presence and the knowledge that they’re exactly where they should be.