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“Atsu,” Kiyoom calls out tentatively into the house, “Atsu, where are you?”
“I’m in the gym!” he replies back and Kiyoomi slowly makes his way towards the back of the house, knowing good and well that the conversation they’re about to have isn't going to be fun.
When he makes it to their home gym, the doors are open and Atsumu is on the ground doing sit ups. He’s covered in sweat and his face is red from exertion. Kiyoomi can hear the breathy counting of numbers each time he sits up.
He sees Kiyoomi and sits up all the way, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Hi beautiful,” he greets, out of breath. “Ya come here often?”
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes and leans against the doorway. “Getting an extra workout in before the shoot?” Kiyoomi asks.
Atsumu nods, pulling his shirt away from his body to unstick it from his skin before bringing it up to his face and wiping away his sweat. “Last of my water intake, too. Gotta dehydrate, otherwise they’re gonna get on my ass again.”
Kiyoomi wrinkles his nose, moving a little farther into the gym and taking a seat on the bicycle machine. “I don’t understand why you have to. Your muscles look great even without the dehydration.”
“Yer just sayin’ that ‘cause yer my husband.” He reaches over and grabs his half empty water bottle, a measured amount of hydration before his complete fast.
As he takes a drink, Kiyoomi chews on his bottom lip and knows it’s now or never. He’s in a good mood now, and asking him tomorrow while he’s dying of thirst would be torturous. He scoots off the seat and kneels on the floor just a few feet away. With a slow crawl, he moves towards Atsumu who looks confused at first, but the way that Kiyoomi looks as he makes his way to his husband is quickly making him aroused.
Kiyoomi reaches Atsumu and slides a finger up his arms. He’s thankful that his mysophobia doesn’t give him the same adverse reaction to sweat if it’s on his partner of five years, or else this would be a lot harder.
It travels up all the way to his neck, trails up to his jaw, and around to his chin where he pulls it towards him, his lips ghosting over his husband’s.
Atsumu smirks and tries to lean in closer to connect their lips, but Kiyoomi knows he likes a chase, so he pulls away a little which earns a groan from the blonde. He lets go of his grip on Atsumu’s chin to start trailing down his chest, abdomen, lower when suddenly it’s grabbed by Atsumu’s hand.
The arousal is gone in his eye and replaced with a knowing look and Kiyoomi realizes he’s been caught.
“What is it?” Atsumu asks and Kiyoomi lets out a huff, leaning back onto the balls of his feet.
“I can’t pleasure my husband?” Kiyoomi asks defensively and Atsumu snorts.
“Ya never offer t’touch lil’Tsumu after a workout unless ya want something.”
“First of all,” Kiyoomi stops him, closing his eyes in frustration for a brief moment, “we talked about you calling your dick that. Second of all,” he continues, this time lowering his voice and leaning closer to Atsumu, “that last photoshoot is still on my mind.”
But, unfortunately, the spell has worn off of Atsumu now that he knows something is up. He makes a noise of disbelief and Kiyoomi leans back again, crossing his arms. “Fine. I could have at least sucked you off before I gave you the news.”
“Just tell me, babe.”
“My parents are in town and they want to have dinner with us.”
Atsumu lets out a groan and falls back on the padded floor. “I shoulda let ya blow me first.”
“You’re the one who didn’t want it.”
“That was before I knew I’d have t’dine with yer parents.”
“They’re not that bad,” Kiyoomi tries, but even he knows how much of a lie that is. Having an openly gay son wasn’t the issue. Being married to another man wasn’t the issue. The issue they had was that Atsumu wasn’t from money like all the other families they tried to set Kiyoomi up with before Atsumu.
It didn’t stop there, constantly passing around insults about him being from the country, how he never attended college, how he barely graduated. They looked at his faults and not his successes. The countryside Atsumu grew up in had a powerhouse school that he was able to get into. He didn’t go to college because he was recruited so fast by the V.League. He barely graduated high school, but he won nationals that same year.
Even now, both of them being successful volleyball players, playing for the MSBY Black Jackals and the national volleyball team for the Olympics, didn’t stop them from picking at ways in which Atsumu would never be welcome in their family. Nothing he could do would make them happy, even when he signed a multi-million yen contract with Calvin Klein and modeled for Vogue.
Atsumu makes a face at Kiyoomi who nods his head in agreement. They were that bad.
“Can’t ya just tell ‘em that I was too dumb to put on a jacket and caught the flu? They’ll believe that, right?”
“Babe, it’s one night. Once it’s over, I won’t let them come over for the rest of the year.” He folds his hands on top of Atsumu’s knees and rests his head on them.
Atsumu sighs and is quiet for a while as he thinks it over in his head before finally groaning. “We’re gonna have so much mornin’ sex after to make up for it.”
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes but the smile on his mouth says it all. Atsumu does one more sit up to kiss Kiyoomi on the lips.
------
On Saturday evening, the Sakusas come over bringing an expensive bottle of plum wine. They greet Kiyoomi with kind words that are covered in ice as they step into the home. Atsumu is in the kitchen with the finishing touches to their meal as Kiyoomi leads them further into the house. He takes the plum wine and walks back into the kitchen as they settle down at the dining table.
“Babe,” Kiyoomi says as soon as he walks in. He heads straight for their glassware as Atsumu takes another swig of his whiskey. “Please try not to start another fight with my father.”
Atsumu looks at Kiyoomi and then takes a much longer drink, nearly finishing it off. He doesn’t respond, instead picking up the entrée and carrying it into the dining room.
Kiyoomi lets out a sigh when he hears Atsumu greet his parents and grabs Atsumu’s glass, finishing off the whiskey before grabbing four wine glasses and meeting them in the dining room.
Dinner is mostly listening to his father speak about what his other children are doing with their families. He mentions his recent visit to Kiyoomi’s sister and how her two children are. Atsumu stays quiet the entire time, nodding along with the conversation and taking sips of the wine.
Once they’re finishing their food and Kiyoomi’s father has exhausted his topics of discussion, he turns the questions on Kiyoomi.
“It’s a beautiful house, Kiyoomi,” he compliments, “I’m sure it must be easy to afford with your salary.”
Kiyoomi places a hand over Atsumu’s thigh and squeezes it for both of their sanities. “Atsumu actually makes the most out of both of us. He signed a contract with Calvin Klein earlier this year.”
“Ah, yes, the porn company.”
Atsumu chokes on his drink and Kiyoomi offers him a napkin before answering. “It’s a fantastic opportunity for him. It makes good money and the company loves him.”
“I’m sure they would love anyone with a nice physique. The real companies want brain to go with their brawn.” He eats another piece of his salmon. “Speaking of brains,” he says, patting his upper lip with his napkin, “have you found any careers for your degree yet?”
Kiyoomi clears his throat and can feel Atsumu tense under his hand. “I’m actually looking at starting a company within the next few years.”
“Oh?” his mother chimes in this time, one of the few words she’s said all evening. “What about?”
“Athletic equipment geared towards lower income families,” he states proudly.
“I’m sure Atsumu knows all about that. Is he helping with the company? Or will he just be modeling for it?”
“Ya know me,” Atsumu finally speaks, though it’s strained, “only known fer my body.”
Kiyoomi’s father hums in agreement and Atsumu takes another drink.
“We were looking at retiring from volleyball after the Olympics, so it gives us a couple years t’figure everything out,” Kiyoomi finishes.
“Ugh, son, please use proper Japanese instead of that bumpkin nonsense,” his father scolds and Atsumu shoots straight out of his chair, capturing the attention of everyone at the table.
“I . . . have to check on the dessert,” he excuses and quickly hurries back into the kitchen.
Kiyoomi glares at his father who shrugs his shoulders in defense. “We did not pay for the best education just so you can talk like you don’t know Japanese.”
“It slips out sometimes because my husband speaks like that,” Kiyoomi whispers angrily. “And I would appreciate it if you could lay off him.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean-”
“Jesus, dad, you’ve done nothing but insult him every chance you get.”
His father pinches the bridge of his nose and his mother takes a sip of her wine.
“I just think-”
“Dessert’s doin’ good,” Atsumu interrupts and Kiyoomi knows he was listening. “Should be done in a few.”
“What are your plans once you retire, Atsumu?” his father questions once Atsumu has sat back down.
“Oh, uh, I hadn’t really thought too far ahead yet. Kinda got a lot on my plate fer now.” Kiyoomi’s father nods. “Might pick up some more modeling gigs. They’re pretty easy and would give me lots of time at home fer when we adopt.”
It’s his mother’s turn to spit out her drink this time, coughing up a lung while his father offers her a glass of water.
“You’re planning on adopting?” she asks and Atsumu eyes her carefully.
“I mean,” he starts, scratching the back of his head. “Omi’s been wantin’ one ever since Bokkun--ah, our co-worker and his partner adopted last year. Babysat her a few times fer ‘em and it was enough to make us start lookin’ up information fer it.”
“Do you think that’s wise, son?” his father asks and Kiyoomi opens his mouth to reply, but Atsumu’s voice comes out first.
“I don’t see why not. We got lots of money to take care of it, all the resources in the world, and one of the best people to raise ‘em.” He looks over at Kiyoomi who, for a moment, gets lost in amber eyes and forgets about his parents’ judgmental ones from across the table.
“Yes, but, with your careers-”
“We’ll be retired by then,” Atsumu interrupts but it doesn’t stop his father.
“-and your lifestyle?” he finishes it as if it’s a question.
“Lifestyle?”
“-it’s preposterous, Kiyoomi. You’d make a horrible father!”
That seems to be the breaking point for Atsumu. Kiyoomi tries grabbing at his thigh again, but he brushes it away. “What?” he asks coldly and his father seems to realize something.
“Preposterous, I apologize for my use of larger vocabulary, it means-”
“I know what it fuckin’ means, you balding motherfucker,” Atsumu snaps, standing up.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Ya better beg for forgiveness next ‘cause ‘m real fuckin’ close to showin’ ya just how much brawn I got if ya keep openin’ that trap of yers.”
Kiyoomi’s mouth falls open, but he doesn’t stop him.
“You will show me some respect-”
“Like ya showed me respect? I ain’t give a flying fuck about what ya say about me, but I ain’t gonna sit here and listen while ya tell Omi some bullshit that ain’t true! He’s gonna be the best damn father there is, and I know that ‘cause he ain’t a thing like you!”
If it’s possible, his mouth falls open farther and he doesn’t think Atsumu could do anything else in this lifetime or the next to make him love him more.
The room is dead silent and his father is the first to break it. He wipes at his mouth once more and throws his napkin on the table, standing up. “Well, I do believe it’s time for us to go. We have an early train tomorrow.” He offers a hand for his wife who takes it and helps her stand up.
“Door swings closed real fast, don’t let it hit ya on yer way out!” Atsumu calls and Kiyoomi hits him lighty, trying his best to stifle his laughter.
When they hear the door close, Atsumu grabs his leftover wine and chugs it down. “Fuck, give me one of yer nicotine patches.”
“I don’t have them anymore,” Kiyoomi says quietly and Atsumu groans, sitting back down in his chair. He holds his head in his hands.
“I fucked up.”
Kiyoomi rubs up and down his spine in comfort. “Kinda,” he agrees. It’s taking everything in his body to not jump Atsumu’s bones right now. He didn’t realize how hot it would be to watch your husband yell at your father to defend your honor.
He leans on his own hand, covering the smile that’s forcing its way onto his lips.
“Babe,” Kiyoomi says quietly, trailing his fingers to tangle in his hair. Atsumu grunts in response and Kiyoomi lets a laugh slip through his nose. “Babe, I’m going to be honest with you. I’m hard as fuck right now.”
Atsumu’s head whips to look at Kiyoomi in the face, flicks down at his crotch, and then back up.
“Me yellin’ at yer dad is what turns ya on nowadays?” he jokes and Kiyoomi lets out another laugh.
“It’s a real shame Foster forced you to go to anger management classes, I think we would’ve got together sooner if I saw you yell like that.”
“Honey, that ain’t healthy,” Atsumu whines, leaning over and pecking his husband on the lips. Kiyoomi tries to chase his lips, even going so far as pulling on his hair to bring him back, but Atsumu just smirks. “We still gotta clean up, and we got dessert--FUCK! The cake!”
“It’s fine, it still has like ten minutes,” Kiyoomi says but Atsumu shakes his head.
“Ya worked so hard on it fer ‘em and they’re not even gonna be able to enjoy it ‘cause they’re such pricks.”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Kiyoomi asks incredulously. “That they’re not going to be able to enjoy the cake I made?”
“Well,” Atsumu starts, confused, “yeah.”
“Jesus Christ, Atsu, stop saying shit like that or else I’m literally gonna come untouched.”
“Fuck, ya really are horny,” Atsumu laughs. “Go take yer shower first and I’ll clean up and take the cake out.”
Kiyoomi whines, but stands up with Atsumu. “And then you’ll break my back?”
“Jesus.”
Kiyoomi huffs out a laugh and pulls Atsumu in for another kiss. “I love you, you know that?”
Atsumu smirks and gives him a few more pecks on the lip before pulling away. “I love ya more.”
“That is impossible,” Kiyoomi argues and Atsumu rolls his eyes, taking a few plates into his hands.
“I love ya so much that I’m gonna let ya believe that ya love me more.” He walks into the kitchen and Kiyoomi sputters.
“That’s cheatin’!”
“Hey!’ Atsumu scolds, peeking his head around the doorway. “Ya better start talkin’ proper or else ‘m gonna start thinkin’ yer a big dummy.”
“Look at that,” Kiyoomi mocks, “ya found a way to make my dick soft after all these years.”
Atsumu winks at him and then disappears around the corner again.
Kiyoomi walks upstairs and smiles to himself. Falling in love with his best friend all those years ago turned out to be so worth it.