Work Text:
Sakusa had finally gotten Atsumu down for his nap when the storm started.
Atsumu regressed a little older than he usually did today, leaving Sakusa with an over-excited, bouncing four year old who wanted to know the name of everything in his apartment and wanted to play every single game known to mankind.
He adamantly opposed naptime as well - he and Iwaizumi had scheduled a playdate for Atsumu and Oikawa when the former had come back from Argentina and the other little had apparently taught Atsumu the evils of naps. Iwaizumi had been apologetic but the damage was done.
Sakusa was cleaning up the remnants of Atsumu’s anti-nap fight, refolding blankets and resituating pillows when the first crack of thunder sounded from the sky.
Sakusa loved thunderstorms. He sighed in relief when he heard the rumbling, even more grateful that his little one was asleep right now. He could curl up on the couch with some tea and listen to the storm - what was better than that?
He rushed his cleaning a bit - haphazardly wiping at the tabletops and leaving a few toys piled in a corner for later - in his rush to be able to sit. Atsumu would most likely cause another mess when he woke in a few hours anyways.
The teapot whistled just as the sharp sound of a lightning strike sounded, echoing in the small apartment. He winced a bit, listening for any noises from the hall but it was silent. Atsumu was a deep sleeper.
Sakusa poured himself a cup and retreated to the living room, collapsing onto the couch underneath the window. Rain was falling heavily outside the window and he closed his eyes, laying his head back on the couch. Sakusa loved thunderstorms.
Atsumu hated thunderstorms.
He had been confused when he was suddenly startled awake, brown eyes scanning the room for the cause. It was dark and quiet and he was still surrounded by his blankets and stuffies; nothing seemed out of place.
He frowned, rubbing his eye with a fist. He hated waking up from naps early. He always ended up grumpy and then Sakusa would try to make him go back to sleep.
“Not tired,” Atsumu grumbled, rolling over and pressing his face into the fur of his stuffed fox. “Naps are dumb.”
He giggled to himself, smiling in the dark. “Heh. Dumb. Papa says I can’t say ‘dat,” He whispered conspiratorially to the fox, giggling again. “Dumb dumb dumb du-”
Atsumu was interrupted by a sharp cracking sound, echoing loudly even above the soft lullaby music streaming from the speaker in the corner. The little jumped fiercely, sitting up in his bed. Was it storming? This room didn’t have a window in it so he wasn’t able to check for sure but his suspicions were confirmed by the following rolling thunder.
He clapped his hands over his ears with a gasp, feeling himself slip even younger. He had been afraid of thunderstorms for as long as he could remember. Being regressed only worsened his fear and he felt a sob bubbling up in his throat.
Another lightning strike sounded and Atsumu whimpered, diving back underneath the covers and curling himself into a tight ball.
Atsumu didn’t want to cry - he was Sakusa’s big boy today, the caregiver had told him so himself. Only babies cried over some thunder and lightning. He sniffled and scrambled for his fox, grabbing it and holding it tight to his chest. He was a big boy. He would be fine. That was why Sakusa hadn’t come in to check on him, because he was a big boy and big boys weren’t scared of thunderstorms.
He really wished he could follow his own advice. With every crack of lightning and boom of thunder he found himself slipping younger and younger, whimpers turning into tears turning into muffled sobs.
Being under the blanket wasn’t enough to protect him. He needed Sakusa.
After the next roll of thunder Atsumu carefully slipped out from underneath the blanket, the cool, air welcoming to his sweat-drenched face. He bundled the blanket around his shoulders - fox held in a death grip in his fist - and stepped off of the bed.
He paused at the door, fingers hesitating on the doorknob. Sakusa always told him he wasn’t allowed to leave the room during naptime. Not for a drink (“Just call through the monitor and I’ll bring something in, Atsu.”), not for the bathroom (“That’s what your dips are for, Atsu.”), so what if he got yelled at?
Atsumu’s decision was made for him. Another crack of lightning shook the room, much louder than the previous ones, and he frantically grabbed the doorknob, swinging it open and rushing out of the room.
“Papa! Papaaaa!”
Sakusa’s eyes snapped up from the book he was reading at the sound of Atsumu’s voice, looking up just in time to see the little sprint out of the hallway. He quickly set his tea and the book aside, standing. “Atsu? What’s wrong?”
Atsumu’s head jolted to the sound of Sakusa’s voice and he sobbed, rushing forward. “Papa!”
Sakusa caught him easily, falling back onto the couch to bundle the blonde in his arms. “Atsu, baby, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?” Atsumu cried in response, wrapping tight arms around his caregiver’s neck. Sakusa rubbed his back gently through his blanket, holding him tightly to his chest. “I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, Atsu.”
The little was crying too hard to form words but he tried, wiping his tear-stained face on Sakusa’s shirt. “W-W-Woke n’nd was… ‘nd loud ‘nd scawed! No h-h-have y-” He was interrupted by the next crack of lighting, much louder now that he was underneath a window and he wailed, letting go of Sakusa’s neck to clap his hands over his ears once more.
“Oh! Okay, okay,” Sakusa attempted to settle him, rocking back and forth lightly. “I didn’t know you were afraid of thunder, my love. Papa’s so sorry he didn’t come protect you.”
The caregiver slipped his hands underneath Atsumu’s thighs and stood, lifting the boy with him. Atsumu obediently wrapped his legs around his waist and Sakusa cooed softly in his ear as he did, stroking his back. “I know. Let’s go lay in Papa’s room. I’ll be with you, okay?”
Atsumu didn’t respond, throat too thick with tears to do anything but whine. Sakusa detoured to the kitchen to grab one of the little’s sanitized pacifiers and a freshly washed bottle. The Atsumu from just an hour ago would most likely complain but he could tell that the scare from the sudden storm had dropped him much younger.
With Atsumu clinging onto him it was difficult to pour in the milk but he did so successfully, twisting on the cap. “Okay, all set,” he murmured for his own sake, knowing Atsumu was too distracted to listen very intently.
Once in Sakusa’s room he climbed onto the mattress, setting the pacifier and bottle on the table while he worked on unwinding the little from his torso. Lightning cracked from a distance and Atsumu whimpered, arms and legs unconsciously tightening.
“Come on,” Sakusa murmured, rubbing his back. “I know you’re scared. Don’t you want to lay down? I don’t think I’m that comfortable.”
Atsumu stubbornly shook his head, shuddering as the following thunder rolled in. It was much quieter in Sakusa’s room than it had been in his own but he could still hear it. He didn’t want to hear it. His fox was still gripped tight in his fist and he brought it up to one of his ears. “Hurts, Papa.”
Sakusa nodded sympathetically. “I know. How about you lay down and I’ll turn on the TV? So you don’t hear the loud noises?”
Atsumu wasn’t very happy with that solution but he reluctantly slipped out of his vice grip around his caregiver, sliding down to lay close beside him instead. Sakusa was quick to offer him the bottle and he was too young to protest, only opening his mouth.
Sakusa held the bottle in one hand while the other reached for the television remote, switching it on and turning it up to a volume that would muffle the storm but wouldn’t prevent Atsumu from falling back asleep. He did need his nap, after all.
It seemed to work; Sakusa could faintly hear the thunder behind the sound of whatever colorful children’s show was playing on the screen but Atsumu was sufficiently distracted, stray tears leaking from wide eyes but he was no longer crying.
“Feeling better, honey?” Sakusa asked during a commercial break, lifting the bottle so Atsumu could take a break. Atsumu sniffled and nodded, shuffling closer and pressing his nose to the caregiver’s arm.
“Cuddwe? He asked, voice soft. Bottles always made Atsumu tired and he was sure that crying so much had tired him out as well. Sakusa smiled and set the bottle aside, switching it for the pacifier.
“Of course.” Sakusa slipped the pacifier between Atsumu’s lips and laid back against the pillows, pulling the little up to lay across his chest. “Go back to sleep, Atsu. I’ll protect you from the storm.”