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It had been a particularly tiring match; the Black Jackals held their ground well but in the end, were too worn out to keep up. With as dedicated as each of the members were to volleyball, each one taking losses seriously, spirits were already pretty low. Meian had given a talk after the match, frustrated and already calculating faces looking back. He sighed as he sent them off, reminding them of the job well done. Now they boarded the bus, mumbles much quieter than the usual banter.
Sakusa settled into his seat, sighing into the cushion. He didn’t mind the quiet, usually Bokuto and Hinata shook the bus as they bounced around, making Sakusa’s ears ring with their shouts of, “Your spike was incredible, Bokuto-san!! Like bwam! and everything!” “Hahaha! But your receive, Sho-kun! Did you see their faces?!”
If it wasn’t remarks on their performance, there was only ever one other topic that rang throughout the bus: food. This one had the unpleasantry of not just the team boomboxes involved, but everyone, including one snarky, annoying, and unbearable Miya Atsumu. Hinata would scream about ramen or bread or something, Bokuto shouting back declarations of meat, and Miya proudly plugging his brother’s onigiri shop. Sakusa sighed at the thought; even without all the noise happening, just the memories alone gave him a headache.
As others wandered past (Saukusa preferred seats near the middle-front. Too close to the front incited conversation with the driver or coach, too far in the back was a danger zone between the rowdiest players, and the very middle was still too talkative), he fished in his pockets for the unused mask he tucked away earlier. Three-ply salvation in his grasp, he was suddenly deprived of it when 80kg of weight plopped into his lap.
Sakusa jolted, blinking rapidly in surprise before arms wrapped around his shoulders and were soon joined by a head.
“Miya, what the hell. Get off.”
“Mm-mm,” came the noise of disagreement. Atsumu squeezed with his whole body, including the thighs currently trapping Sakusa’s own. Said man tensed in response.
“Seriously, what are you doing. You’re smothering me, disgusting.”
The man on his lap sighed heavily, pressing his cheek into Sakusa’s shoulder. “I’m being sad and tired, Omi! Can’tcha comfort me a little?”
Sakusa frowned deeply, lines prominent on his forehead in utter disgust. Unfortunately, only Atsumu’s neck was facing him instead of the offending face, so he couldn’t see how much Sakusa hated him in the moment. However, knowing Atsumu, Sakusa figured the twin probably had a very good idea of exactly how he felt, and exactly how he looked. The expression was most often used on him, after all.
Struggling to pull his hands out of his pockets with the weight of Atsumu pinning them, Sakusa grumpily muttered out, “Please, we both know you become a distanced shell when you’re actually upset.”
His shoulder shook with Atumu’s chuckle. “Nothin’s easy with you, is it, Omi-kun?” Sakusa opened his mouth to retort but was silenced when the blonde turned his head to share a look between them. He wasn’t prepared for the tender look in Atsumu’s eyes, brown abnormally soft and smirk abnormally fond. “Fine. Then just sit tight and be a nice n’ warm Omi-Omi pillow for me.”
Before Sakusa could get a word in, Atsumu’s warm hands hooked under the poor man’s elbows and pulled them out from between them. “There,” he said, already settling back into his previous position around Sakusa’s shoulders, “Now stop squirmin’.”
How did he get here, Sakusa wondered. He had simply sulked and changed in the locker room like everyone else, boarded the bus while enjoying the quiet, and sat in a seat. No, there didn’t seem to be a single step where he invited Miya Atsumu to plop himself onto his lap, wrapped around him like a koala. Nor did he recall saying anything prompting of such a… gentle face.
Stiff, frozen arms finally lowered to the seat, but found there was no other option than to touch Atsumu’s (comforting) thighs. Sakusa sighed heavily, hands carefully coming up to rest on Atsumu’s back.
There was a pause of silence. “I hate this.”
“No ya don’t.”
“I do, actually.”
“Stop makin’ a fuss, just let me sleep.”
“Go sleep in your own chair.”
“But it’s such a long ride Omi-Omi! The chair is uncomfy,” Atsumu whined.
Sakusa quirked an eyebrow, “And this is better how? Don’t be childish, Miya.”
Suddenly, Sakusa’s chair shook, almost slipping Atsumu off his lap and pulling Sakusa down with him.
“Whaaaat? Omi-san is letting Atsumu-san sleep in his lap? No fair, I want to!” Hinata’s voice boomed from above them, hands gripping the back of the seat as he stared down at them. Before either of them could respond, whether a complaint from Sakusa or a smirk from the man in his lap, the chair next to them also shook with force as yet another head popped up.
“Awwww, Omi-kun, that’s so nice! Tsum-Tsum, you look so comfortable!” “Bokuto Beam” should refer to his voice, rather than his spike, Sakusa thought as he winced from the volume.
Tilting his head to look up at the boombox duo, Miya gave his signature sleazy smirk, accompanied with a small wave. “Thank you, I very much am.”
Bokuto pouted, “I wish I had Akaashi here to sleep on… I can’t even see him once I get home! Aw, I’m sad again now...”
Hinata smiled, patting Bokuto’s back, “Don’t worry Bokuto-san! You’ll see each other this weekend, right?” Bokuto nodded slowly. “And you always text each other too. Why not ask him for a picture so you can pretend he’s with you tonight?”
Atsumu chuckled as he watched the two excitedly chatter on about weekend plans and pictures of boyfriends. By now, Sakusa’s hands had settled comfortably around his back, and with a notable pressure, too. He smiled under his breath.
“I can see it on yer face, Omi. ‘I hate it here.’”
Provoking Sauksa was Atsumu’s greatest talent, even above setting. He raised an eyebrow down at the blond head still resting on his shoulder. “Good. Then I don’t have to even say it,” He watched as brown eyes looped in a perfected eye roll, then as Miya leaned back, and worse, inhaled. Oh, no.
“Hey. Omi says he hates you two.”
Two pairs of eyes blinked as two mouths shut. Sakusa wanted to appreciate the silence, but knew he couldn’t as it was the quiet before the destruction Miya Atsumu always seemed to bring.
“Omi-Omiiiiii!” wailed both Bokuto and Hinata, flopping over the tops of the chairs, despair painting their faces.
“I didn’t-” Sakusa started, then sighed in frustration as he caught Atsumu’s stupid smirk with his aggravated eyes.
Unfortunately, Meian had had enough of everyone’s shouting and was as ready as anyone to go home. His figure towered at the front of the bus, threatening voice startling everyone immediately, “That’s enough! I don’t care how many butts are in one seat as long as no one is standing! The faster you sit, the faster we get home! Everyone clear?” Embarrassed mumbles of “clear” echoed back, and Hinata and Bokuto waved goodbye to Atsumu and Sakusa.
Atsumu watched as they settled back into their seats before looking back over to Sakusa. He blinked, “Whoa, Omi-kun! Such a scary face.”
Sakusa’s eyebrow twitched. “There are no words in any language capable of expressing how strongly I dislike you right now.”
The blond laughed again before snuggling back up to Sakusa. How was he the only one never put off by any of his threats? “Yeah yeah, that one might be true. Hate an' love are a very fine line though, are ya sure you’re not just confused?”
“I’m very certain I want to spike a ball straight into your face.”
“I’d rather you spike me with something el- ow!”
Sakusa cut him off with a pinch to his ear, cheeks flushing slightly. “Are you going to go to sleep or not, idiot?”
Pouting and clutching his ear, Atsumu paused before sighing into Sakusa’s shoulder, “Well, if you really insist…”
“It’s either you get off me and leave me alone or shut up and go to sleep.”
Sakusa hated how he could hear the smile in his voice when the man responded, “Goodnight, Omi-Omi.”
He grunted in response, looking away as he willed the heat in his cheeks away. Surprisingly, it took only a moment before he could feel the steady rhythm of sleep pulsing against his shoulder, and he couldn’t stop himself from staring a moment. Quickly though, he took a picture and pulled up his messages. Your brother is the most irritating man I’ve ever met. His phone pinged a moment later, and he scoffed when he read the response from Osamu: Yep, and he looks like your problem now.
Sighing as he shoved his phone in his pocket with difficulty, Sakusa’s hand joined the other that never left Atsumu’s back. Well, this was the situation he was stuck in now, and there was nothing he could do. He knew it was just an excuse but ignored that as he pulled Atsumu closer and rested his own head in the crook of his neck.
Osamu received another picture later that night, from Hinata, and sent it immediately to Suna. It showed both Sakusa and Atsumu tangled in each other, face pressed into neck and cheek pressed into hair, arms keeping each other impossibly close. "I think their arguing tired them out, " the caption read, and Osamu smirked. He couldn't wait to use this against them later.