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"Why are you here?"
"I'm taking care of ya, Omi," Atsumu sets his backpack on his boyfriend's kitchen table, casting a glance filled with adoration at his limp noodle of a boyfriend who lays wrapped in a soft blanket.
When Atsumu had received a text from his boyfriend - his neat-freak, never been sick in his life boyfriend - that he was sick of all things and that's why he couldn't make it to practice that day, the setter nearly dropped his phone in the middle of the street, having to be pushed on by a good samaritan to avoid getting hit by a car.
For a normal person, this is no big deal, but for Kiyoomi, this is the equivalent of him texting Atsumu that he was in the hospital because he'd gotten hit by a bus.
Kiyoomi Sakusa had only ever gotten the common cold once in his life and it was before a time when he was actually a sentient being. He was that kid. The one who never got sick. And it wasn't because he had some crazy immune system like the kid who ate bugs. It was because he was a high-key germaphobe. He'd never so much as been stung by a bee. He hadn't even gotten a bug bite. Not. A Single. One.
So here Atsumu is, with a backpack full of tea, healthy snacks (because his boyfriend is Mr. Fitness and refuses to eat real comfort food) and Kiyoomi's hoodie that he'd left at Atsumu's apartment. The setter had been enjoying using it to warm himself on cold winter days, but he figures his boyfriend needs it more at the moment, and he's willing to be selfless for once in his life - only for Kiyoomi though. Everyone else can shove it.
"Why?" His boyfriend's voice is flat as always, even with the rough edge that laces it thanks to the dryness of his throat. It's cute, in Atsumu's opinion, though he's sure his idea of cute has been warped after a year of dating Kiyoomi Sakusa.
"'Cause I'm yer boyfriend. It's my job," The blonde answers simply, setting the box of tea bags he'd brought on the table along with his neatly folded sweater and the snacks.
In all honesty, the only person Atsumu had ever taken care of like this was his brother, and even then they bickered the whole time - even when Atsumu was literally making him soup. This feels a lot more tender. He likes it this way.
His eyes briefly flick over to the coffee table in front of the couch where a bottle of aspirin and a half-empty box of tissues sit. Atsumu sighs at the sight, a sad ache welling up in his chest as he imagines what it must be like for someone who's never experienced sickness in his life to catch the bitch-version of a cold. As Kiyoomi had described it, every one of his muscles hated him with a burning passion, his throat was somehow dry and wet at the same time, and everything was freezing as hell.
Atsumu can only imagine that he's already contacted his doctor, fearing for his life only to be met with the disappointing news that he's contracted a slightly heightened version of the common cold and recommended aspirin for the muscle aches.
Atsumu's sure Kiyoomi would rather have gotten a deadly disease. He isn't shy about expressing the fact that he'd rather put a bullet through his brain than suffer through the absolute maelstrom of bodily fluids that is the flu or a strain like it.
He pushes himself away from the table over to the couch, heart practically melting as he goes to check on the state of his boyfriend. He's never seen anyone look so heartbreakingly cute before. While it makes his chest ache to see Kiyoomi so miserable, it also makes his heart clench in his chest.
Kiyoomi's dark eyes - which he had realized in the first month they'd started dating were not actually pure black, but a deep sort of coffee brown - are syrupy with sleepiness as he acknowledges his boyfriend's presence. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are flushed pretty red, and he's wearing his grumpy face - which is different from his normal face, despite common misconceptions. All of that combined with the fact that he's burritoed in a blanket gives Atsumu a new definition of angel.
Kiyoomi redefines a lot of words for him.
Kiyoomi doesn't say anything as he raises his arm just slightly, creating a perfectly shaped space for Atsumu to fit in, if he dares.
That's one thing Atsumu will never take for granted, the fact that Kiyoomi is only comfortable touching him.
The ace refuses to take gifts from fans (their grubby paws are probably germ-infested), he doesn't touch door handles without wiping them down a hundred times beforehand, god, he doesn't even accept high fives from his teammates. But with Atsumu, he's practically touch-starved.
Granted, it hasn't always been this way.
For the first three months of their relationship, Kiyoomi hadn't so much as held his hand. But once the ace had finally laced their fingers on cold December afternoon after Atsumu had been shivering most annoyingly for what felt like hours, it all changed.
After that, Kiyoomi's aversion to touch had taken the steepest downhill turn as the light tangling of fingers turned into Kiyoomi pulling his boyfriend against him, stealing the setter's innate warmth. Hugs turned into lips brushing in a chaste but sparkling contact, kisses turned to eager hands exploring every inch of each other's bodies. Atsumu genuinely thought his boyfriend had gotten over his stark aversion to touching other living beings.
Turns out, he was wrong about that, but it only makes his heart ache in the best way. He loves being Kiyoomi's one exception.
He obliges his boyfriend as he crawls onto the couch, slipping into the open space left for him by Kiyoomi's arms. Atsumu breathed in a sigh as the ace tucks his head into the crook of his boyfriend's neck, wrapping his arms around the setter.
Kiyoomi is burning up, like really, really hot. Maybe not enough to be considered feverish, but definitely running hotter than usual. The blond presses his lips together to stop worries from slipping out - he knew Kiyoomi hates being fussed over too much - as he cards his fingers through the ace's raven hair.
"Babe, yer really hot," The blond can't help but mention.
"Cold," Was the grunted, one-word response he receives.
"Ya been drinking enough water?" Atsumu asks tenderly, knowing the answer was probably 'yes' considering Kiyoomi is obsessed with being in peak physical condition no matter what the circumstance - even if he's rendered immobile by body aches and a total lack of energy.
"Obviously," He can feel Kiyoomi glowering into his neck.
Atsumu almost fails to hold back the laugh that threatens to escape his lips. Then he asks a question Atsumu was pretty sure he'd heard the moment he stepped through the door, as if Kiyoomi can't possibly believe someone wanted to take care of him willingly (to be fair, he's a nightmare to anyone who doesn't know how to handle him).
"Why're you taking care of me? You'll get sick."
"'Cause I love ya," Atsumu lets the words slip out easily without expectation of reciprocation.
Kiyoomi almost always responds to I love you's when he's fully sentient and they aren't in public. But Atsumu doesn't mind when his Omi-Kun is tired or distracted, when he's too shy to say it out loud. Because Atsumu doesn't need verbal confirmation to know that Kiyoomi loves him fully and truly. The ace is truly a man who lives by the mantra 'Show don't tell.'
"And don't worry Omi Omi, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
There's a beat of silence before Kiyoomi whispers drowsily,
"I wouldn't do the same for you." Atsumu smiles as he places the softest kiss to the crown of his boyfriend's head, so feather-light he isn't even sure Kiyoomi felt it.
He knew it's at least half true - Kiyoomi would rather die than touch a sick person with a ten-foot stick - but Atsumu also knows that secretly, deep down, Kiyoomi Sakusa is sweet. Atsumu knows he'd take care of him in his own way. Sure, he'd probably coat Atsumu in a layer of disinfectant before stepping within five feet of him and no, there would be no cuddling whatsoever, but Atsumu knows he would.
Plus even if he makes good on his promise to never ever take care of Atsumu when he's sick, the blonde doesn't mind doing this favor for his ace. Kiyoomi does plenty of things for him that go without thank you - covering him with a blanket when he passes out reviewing game tapes, bringing him breakfast at the gym when he's forgotten to eat after waking up, doing his laundry when he's too drained to remember. So the setter doesn't mind returning the favor this once.
"You'd be a fucking disease factory. Still are," Kiyoomi mumbles only half-consciously into the crook of his boyfriend's neck.
"I know, Omi," Atsumu smiles - a tender soft smile that most would find unfitting considering his long-term boyfriend had pretty much just insulted him, but Atsumu knows no one would ever understand. "What are ya watching?"
"Scary."
By scary, he means Annabelle: Creation, a movie Atsumu has already half-seen a hundred times because Bokuto keeps insisting they watch it and wimping out before they can get even halfway through. He still insists, though, that they start it from the beginning each time so that he knows where he is in the story. How the hell could he not know? The opening is seared into Atsumu's memory just from how many times they'd watched it.
"I can see that," The blond murmurs against the crown of his boyfriend's head as he placed another soft kiss to the moles on his forehead - perfect little beauty marks. He can't help being a little selfish with the number of kisses he's stealing from his boyfriend. What can he say? Kiyoomi's just so cute and pliant.
"Children are stupid," He's obviously referring to Janice.
"Aw, give her a break Omi. She's like, nine years old or something," His boyfriend's response is just to grunt and curl inward against Atsumu's torso, smushing them together as close as they can go.
The setter's sure his boyfriend is going to overheat pretty soon, but he figures that trying to detach Kiyoomi from him now would be like trying to detach your finger from a desk after supergluing it there - a futile effort and painful at best.
It's then that Atsumu's phone suddenly buzzes in his back pocket, drawing a groan from the sick man wrapped in his arms as he gently untangles himself from the human heater that is Kiyoomi Sakusa. He whispers small apologies to his boyfriend as he clumsily falls over the back of the couch to take the impending call. Who the hell would be calling him right-
"Fucking Bokuto," Atsumu grumbles, knowing he has no right to be as annoyed as he is considering he's backed out of practice with a vague excuse.
"What?" He practically yells into the phone once he's out of earshot from his already sensory over-loaded boyfriend.
"Meian's really mad that no one told him about Sakusa. Says you need to get your ass down here now," Bokuto sounds like a scared child as he whisper-screams into the phone, drawing a long-suffering sigh from the setter. Atsumu rubs the bridge of his nose. This is an inconvenience he doesn't need right now. He already has a giant man-baby to take care of and now he's going to get his ass kicked by Meian. Great. "We can't play without two people."
"Well, tell him I can't today. Omi's basically a limp fuckin' noodle and I'm pretty sure he hasn't eaten anything except aspirin and water all day," Atsumu hisses into the phone, the images of his suffering boyfriend being conjured to mind. "Can ya talk to him for me? Tell him I promise I'll make it up to him."
"No way, dude! I can't talk to him. I'll get my ass handed to me!"
"Please, Bokuto, I'll do whatever you want," A dangerous bargain best-case scenario, and one that will definitely get him into a lot of trouble if he isn't careful. He knows Bokuto isn't a douchebag, but he isn't one to pass up an opportunity like this either.
"Dinner for a week anywhere I want," Atsumu drags his eyes so far back in his skull it must break some sort of record. Okay. He can do dinner. It's the least horrible of many possible paths this could've taken, so he silently thanks his lucky stars.
"God, I walked right into that one," He muses more to himself than Bokuto. And then: "'Kay fine. Whatever. Dinner for a week."
"Hell yeah!" Atsumu scrubs a hand over the face to suppress the exasperated groan that threatens to tear from his throat. The subject changes like the wind, as is the usual happening with Bokuto. "By the way how is Sakkun doing?"
"Bad. Dude ain't never been sick in his life before. The body aches are just about ready to kill him," Atsumu frowns, suddenly missing his cuddly panda bear boyfriend despite the fact that he's merely a few short strides away.
"Tell him I hope he feels better soon," Atsumu smiles at that. Whatever else you can say about the guy, Bokuto is kind, a genuinely compassionate person. Atsumu knows his words hold truth.
"Will do. See ya, Bo." Atsumu has never been more ready to ditch a phone in his life, practically throwing it on his boyfriend's kitchen counter.
"Ya should be glad ya got such a good boyfriend. Meian's gonna kill me for cuttin' practice-" Kiyoomi's immediate reaction to the return of Atsumu's presence is to pull the setter down onto the couch with him - Atsumu obliges happily, fitting perfectly back into place. It seems that Kiyoomi left the sapce open just for him (Atsumu doesn't risk commenting on it, but both men know Atsumu's practically giddy about all the affection he's recieving).
"Thank you," Kiyoomi says, muffled and belated, as he reamerses himself in the setter's presence - they really need to move in together, he decides.
"Anythin' for ya, Omi-Kun," Is whispered because Kiyoomi rarely thanks anyone for anything unless it's because social etiquitte tells him he has to, and Atsumu doesn't want to break the moment hazy with a soft love. "Baby, how're ya feeling?" Kiyoomi wrinkles his nose adorably at the pet name - an action that makes Atsumu dizzy with adoration - before a long-suffering groan escapes him.
"Like I got hit by a truck."
"Do ya need some aspirin?"
"Mhm."
"'Kay just gotta-"
"I changed my mind," He snaps immediately when Atsumu tries to move toward the coffee table, arms muscular from years of spiking tightening around the setter's torso. Silence save for the drone of the TV in the background engulfed them, a peaceful but short-lived as Kiyoomi huffed out a throaty, "'Tsumu."
"Yeah?" The setter contemplates what he did to deserve this life of Kiyoomi snuggled against him while he runs his fingers languidly through thick curls. Maybe it was all his submitting to his brother's requests, agreeing to be part of Osamu's elaborate plan(s) to confess his undying love to Sunarin. Maybe it was all the times he bit his tongue when his Ma unjustly accused him of something heinous. Maybe it doesn't really matter as long as it gets to stay this way.
"I would," Kiyoomi mumbles against his Adam's apple. Atsumu doesn't need to ask - he already knows - but he does anyway.
"Would what?"
"Take care of you," Atsumu doesn't think he would mind if he drowned right here and now in the warm affection overtaking his chest.
"I know, Omi."