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"Gross," Atsumu wrinkles his nose and drops his cheek to Kiyoomi's shoulder as the spiker drops a head of lettuce into their shopping cart.
Kiyoomi sighs - Atsumu has the body of a god and the diet of an eight-year-old. How he manages to maintain washboard abs and corded thighs and perfectly sculpted obliques while simultaneously eating literal trash is beyond Kiyoomi. Atsumu once had Cheetos for all three meals and still managed to outperform fucking Bokuto at practice- one of these days he's going to be scooped up by a government facility for experimental research, Kiyoomi's sure of it.
"You think anything that's not made exclusively of sugar or saturated fat is gross."
"Yeah, 'cause those are the best kindsa foods."
Going grocery shopping with Atsumu is an absolute nightmare. And not just because he whines every time Kiyoomi decides on something remotely healthy (peppers are gross, carrots are gross, any vegetable or fruit other than strawberries are gross). It's because he also insists on hanging on Kiyoomi like a goddamn howler monkey - or something, Kiyoomi was never destined to be a zoologist.
It's downright weird because Atsumu's not even this clingy at bars - which might have something to do with Bokuto and Hinata being a factor, but the point still stands. It's as though Atsumu's worried Kiyoomi will miraculously meet some other perfect man while out grocery shopping.
("What if it's like one'a those stupid meet-cutes? 'Oh look at us we're reachin' fer the same celery'." Kiyoomi had told him that was a stupid irrational fear, but Atsumu had ignored him and tagged along anyway despite having complained every second since they got to Target.)
"Can't we get actually good food?"
"Good food is healthy food. If we got what your definition of 'good food' is, we would both be dead of poor nutrition," Kiyoomi says as they venture into the snack aisle, searching for the peanuts - one of the few 'snacks' he allows himself to have. The sodium is sky high, but the protein's not a bad offset to that.
"We're getting real food," Kiyoomi turns around when he sees a stark absence of peanuts to find his boyfriend hugging two bags of Cheetos as though they're throw pillows. A long-suffering sigh escapes him as he plucks the bags from Atsumu's hands and places them back on the shelf. "Which means not Cheetos."
"Ugh, how did I end up with ya. Yer literally no fun," Atsumu gripes, but flops his head to Kiyoomi's shoulder nonetheless, looping their arms like a child, worried he might get lost - hey, Kiyoomi can fully sympathize with the unmatched panic of losing your guide in a grocery store brings. There is nothing more stressful than walking around a virtual maze of aisles looking for a person who's probably doing the exact same thing as you.
"We had sex and you got clingy," Kiyoomi doesn't see it, but he can feel his boyfriend's eye roll. Okay, yes, both of them know that's not exactly how it happened. But for over-simplifications sake, it's an okay summary.
"Oh come on, ya make it sound so one-sided. Can'tcha at least admit that ya love me a little bit?"
"Never," Kiyoomi would rather not, because even though there's an irresistible urge to spill everything he feels for his setter into words, he knows it would in that smug smile his boyfriend wears like a glove. He's A, not prepared for such an event because he will require a minimum of sixty seconds to normalize his breathing. And B, not so fond of giving Atsumu the satisfaction.
They get eggs and not milk because neither of them like it, but orange juice because Atsumu is a heathen and puts it in his cereal (Kiyoomi occasionally sets aside reason and drinks it for the vitamin C, but it's mostly just sugar). But just getting those to items is a chore because Atsumu insists on taking them on numerous detours.
Like the ice cream aisle where Atsumu tries and fails to pluck some raspberry ice cream from the freezer - Kiyoomi has to physically pick up his boyfriend to stop him from going sugar crazy and ruining both their diets. Atsumu seems hellbent on destroying the healthy lifestyle Kiyoomi's built for himself. But he's not going down without a fight.
"Omi, I want ice cream!" Atsumu whines, he's doing a lot of that lately.
"Ice cream is just frozen sugar cow milk."
"Geez d'ya haveta make everythin' I like sound so unappealin'?" Atsumu relaxes against him, looping unreasonably strong thighs around Kiyoomi's waist, latching onto his torso like a baby koala - he's cuter than one, though Kiyoomi wouldn't deign to admit that out loud.
"It's good for you. Maybe you'll stop eating literal trash you fucking gremlin person," Kiyoomi takes a few steps before realizing that, no, he does not have the core strength to support all one hundred and seventy-seven pounds of his boyfriend's muscle for the rest of their shopping adventure. "Also can you get off me? You're being so obnoxious."
Atsumu shakes his head stubbornly - adorably.
"Omi, it's one in the mornin' andja play pro volleyball," Kiyoomi will admit that there's something soft about the moment, something syrupy sweet about Atsumu being so clingy. And Kiyoomi will admit (obviously not verbally or to any of his friends ever) that he likes it when Atsumu gets like this, when his need to touch and hold becomes overwhelming and he turns into a human barnacle.
Kiyoomi only likes it because he likes how Atsumu hugs, which is strong and tight and grounding. And he likes how Atsumu holds his hand and kisses his cheek and shoves his face into the crook of his neck, breathing in deep as though Kiyoomi's his home and source of comfort.
"Plus, obnoxious is part of my personality, ya know this!"
"It's all of your personality. Now seriously, get off. You're getting heavy," Atsumu releases a tortured whine as if he's the one being weighed down by a grown-ass man with the maturity level of a seven-year-old. But he lets go, dropping his arms to his sides and pushing out his bottom lip in a way that makes Kiyoomi's heart flutter in his chest.
When they finally make it to check out - after much complaining from his boyfriend and a lot of sidetracks that inevitably lead back to junk food - Atsumu is still getting excited over the most mundane of things, a child in a candy shop. Honestly, he acts like he's never been in a grocery store before, pointing out every tiny pointless thing that they ultimately don't end up getting.
"OmiOmi gum! Can we get gum?" The setter points excitedly to the strawberry gum sitting just above the self check out like he's five again.
"We don't need it."
"OMI CAN WE GET OREOS?" When Kiyoomi looks over at his boyfriend, hazel eyes are wide as dinner plates, glittering with a special type of enthusiasm that only Atsumu seems capable of possessing. There's a sweet grin spreading across his face as he stares at the cookies. Kiyoomi's half tempted to give him this just to see the smile on his boyfriend's face when he does. But then again, unlike Atsumu, he has willpower and lots of it. "I haven't had Oreos in like three years, please?"
"You already know what my answer is going to be. Seriously, just give up."
"Omi why? I've been so good! I even agreed ta get carrots! I've been like, the best boyfriend," Kiyoomi almost scoffs at that.
"Yeah, okay, sure, more like the worst. You're a menace," Kiyoomi shakes his head and turns back to the self check out, leaving his boyfriend to sulk behind him as he scans in a head of lettuce. He should've known that agreeing to let Atsumu come along was a bad idea, but he was lured in by the promise of a pretty smile and glittery hazel eyes.
He's about to move onto the orange juice when a tap on his jawline distracts him, causing him to whip his head to the side in preparation for more whining and griping. Instead, he is met with his boyfriend's steady gaze and a soft, smug smile that, though beautifully crafted, can only spell trouble for Kiyoomi.
The trouble comes in the form of Atsumu drawing him in, slow and languid and sweet, with practiced elegance as he parts Kiyoomi's lips with the softness of his own. And Kiyoomi knows this is some sort of scheme, an evil plot to get him to let his guard down, that's all he seems to be able to do around Atsumu Miya. But even so, he lets himself melt a little at the saccharine taste of his lips. Lets himself fall into the enigma of his boyfriend, somehow intoxicating and dreadfully annoying.
When Atsumu pulls away, his hand is dropping a pack of Oreos into one of their bags - yeah, okay, Kiyoomi saw that coming. He knew it was happening and yet he let himself be stupid, something he so often finds himself doing around Atsumu.
Kiyoomi wears a scowl anyway. Just because he saw the plot of his evil goblin boyfriend coming a mile away doesn't mean he has to like it.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're the worst human being alive?"
"You, all the time," Atsumu places another deliberate kiss on his boyfriend's lips, so sweet it's almost sickly as he holds Kiyoomi's face between his palms. Kiyoomi tries to scowl, but he knows it has about half the impact he intended with Atsumu squishing his face like he is.
"I'm actually going to break up with you one of these days," is a baseless threat that stopped working on Atsumu a long time ago after he realized that, no, in fact, Kiyoomi would not be breaking up with him any time soon (or ever, for that matter) because he loves him just a little too much. Atsumu hums, thoughtful and low in his throat.
"Mmm, yeah, okay, so are ya breakin' up with me? That what we're doin' now?" Atsumu coos, knowing the answer is a hard no. Not that Kiyoomi will deign to say it out loud because giving Atsumu Miya the satisfaction is worse than death. When Kiyoomi doesn't respond, Atsumu takes it as the obvious negative that it is, a cloying smile edging across full lips. "That's what I thought."
Atsumu extracts Kiyoomi's wallet from his hand with a gentle clap on his cheek, leaving his boyfriend still grimacing bitterly - in a relationship that's as much a competition on-court as it is off, you're never vying to lose.
"One of these fucking days, Miya."
"Oh yeah, I totally believe ya, Sakusa."
---
"I thoughtcha said ya didn't want Oreos."
Atsumu looks at him with an expression halfway between annoyance and smugness as Kiyoomi takes a beat bite of an Oreo and sits down with his boyfriend after having showered and changed. Atsumu is, as per usual, watching some romance movie that Kiyoomi only takes an interest in because Atsumu likes it - he's not sappy okay, it's normal to want to like the things your boyfriend likes.
"And I thought you said you weren't cold. We seem to be at an impasse," Kiyoomi nudges at his boyfriend, flicking his eyes over the hoodie - his hoodie - that Atsumu's wearing as though he owns it despite claiming adamantly that, no, he's perfectly fine in just a t-shirt. If Atsumu's going to steal his clothes, he's going to steal Atsumu's Oreos. This is how their relationship works, the gentle give and take.
"Touché," Atsumu flops onto his lap, a demand for affection that Kiyoomi is half sure he doesn't even register as such. Kiyoomi obliges him anyway, running his free hand not holding a cookie through his boyfriend's annoyingly soft hair. He's bleached it a thousand fucking times and it's still silky and fluffy. If the spiker did that to his hair, he might as well just shave it all off.
And they sit like that, just with each other, sinking into this saccharine domesticity that Kiyoomi never anticipated wanting. In all his life, he'd never imagined wanting to so fully, so willingly, change his entire lifestyle to accommodate another person. He guesses things change. Atsumu changes them.
There's a beat of peace and quiet before Atsumu breaks the silence with,
"Y'know if ya break up with me I'll key a dick into the side a yer car," and Kiyoomi has to restrain a laugh - he wouldn't expect anything less. Thankfully for both of them (and his bank account), he supposes, Kiyoomi's never even genuinely considered the possibility of leaving Atsumu Miya, so he guesses they won't have to worry about that.
"And in retaliation, I'll burn your Vabo-Chan plushie," as one of his most prized possessions, Atsumu's had it since the tender age of seven when he stole it from his brother. No one is denying it, the man was a little asshole. Still is.
Atsumu glances upward as if to scan Kiyoomi's face for any signs of dishonesty. Kiyoomi raises his eyebrows in the most convincing manner he can muster.
"Hm, then I guess we can't break up then."
Atsumu turns his gaze back to the TV, allowing Kiyoomi to smile softly, free from fear of being called a sap as he gently strokes his boyfriend's hair.
"I guess we can't."