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There's only one thing that Atsumu hates more than losing an argument with Osamu: being sick. It makes you feel gross, makes your skin all sweaty and clammy, and you're constantly switching between too hot and too cold.
He's always hated getting sick and has taken great care in not getting sick even before he started dating Kiyoomi. Being sick was his least favorite thing as a kid because even though he didn't get sick often, it hit him like a bullet train when he did. Since they'd gotten together, Atsumu has tried even harder not to get sick. It isn’t like Kiyoomi would break up with him the instant that he got sick, but Atsumu still doesn’t want to get sick and make Kiyoomi uncomfortable.
So of course it's just his luck to end up getting the flu right after the season ends. For the first time in their relationship, he's glad that he and Kiyoomi aren't living together yet; he knows that Kiyoomi isn't going to want to be around him while he's sick. He's already sent him a text letting him know that he's sick so he doesn't have to worry about Kiyoomi coming over unaware.
The morning is spent with Atsumu drifting in and out of sleep, throwing off the covers and pulling them back on, and wishing that it would just be over already. He knows he should probably text Osamu, let him know that he's sick just in case he comes over but his phone screen is way too bright right now and his head is killing him so there's no way he's gonna be able to do it. Squinting at his clock on the bedside table, he's able to make out that it's a quarter to three.
He heaves out a sigh, his body sagging into the mattress. He needs to take more medicine soon, there's dishes in the sink that he needs to wash, and his jersey and practice clothes have been sitting in his duffle bag for three days and need to be thrown in the washing machine. The blanket gets moved aside and his feet slide to the floor. Maybe if he . . .
Nausea instantly hits him once he sits up, forcing his eyes shut. Okay, maybe not, actually. Atsumu lays back down as gently as he can. His stomach settles slowly but it does nothing to help the shooting pain in his head. He shuffles around until he's back in his previous position and pulls the blanket up and over his head. Maybe if he goes back to sleep, everything will sort itself out.
It does not, in fact, sort itself out.
The next time Atsumu wakes, it's darker in his room, the little bit of sunlight that was allowed in his room starting to take its leave. His head still hurts and his stomach is churning more than earlier. He lets out a groan, rolling over onto the other side.
"Fuck!" he screeches when he sees Kiyoomi sitting on the other side of the bed. He winces at the sharp pain that shoots through his head because of his voice. "The hell are ya doin' here, Omi? I told ya I was sick."
Kiyoomi shrugs. "Osamu wanted me to come check on you." It's a lie and they both know it but Atsumu doesn't call him out on it. He knows his emotionally constipated boyfriend will eventually tell him that he just wanted to make sure Atsumu was doing okay.
"But 'm sick," he repeats.
"And you obviously need someone to take care of you," Kiyoomi deadpans. He lifts a hand to Atsumu's forehead and Atsumu leans into it, relishing in the cool touch. "You're burning up, Atsu. Have you taken any medicine for your fever?"
"Mm, took some aspirin s'mornin'."
A sigh escapes Kiyoomi's lips. "I'm going to get some more aspirin and water then. You're probably dehydrated too." His hand moves away from Atsumu's forehead and Atsumu lets out a whine at the loss. Kiyoomi gives a small smile. "I'll be right back." He gets up and leaves the room, leaving Atsumu to pout.
He shifts to grab his phone, wincing at the bright screen. There's a missed call and a few texts from Osamu but nothing else besides the Twitter notifications. He resolves to call Osamu later or just have Kiyoomi send him a text. He hears footsteps cone down the hall and the mattress dips down again, this time on his side of the bed.
"Here, I'll trade you," Kiyoomi says softly. He takes the phone out of Atsumu's hand and drops the pills into his palm. "I'll send a text to Osamu and let him know you're still alive."
Atsumu swallows the pills with a grimace and takes a drink. "Thanks, Omi-Omi." He sets down the water bottle on the bedside table. "I thought ya didn't like sick people."
"I don't."
"So how come yer here now? Not tha' I don' want ya here, jus' with yer dislike of germs, I thought-"
"Atsu, it's fine, babe. I-" Kiyoomi looks down at the blanket. "It's not so bad if it's you," he mumbles.
"Aw, Omi! Ya do care!" Kiyoomi levels him with a glare and he chuckles. He winces again and groans. "Why'd I have ta get sick?" he whines.
"Because the universe hates you," Kiyoomi deadpans.
"Omiiiii, ya can't be mean ta me, 'm sick!"
"Boyfriend rights."
"Those aren't boyfriend rights, tha's jus' bullyin'." There's no heat behind Atsumu's words; he knows that Kiyoomi is just teasing him.
Kiyoomi hums. "No, I definitely think those are boyfriend rights."
Atsumu pouts up at him. "I hate ya."
"No, you don't." The spiker leans down and presses a kiss to Atsumu's forehead. "You love me." Atsumu can feel the fond smile that he's wearing as he speaks against his skin.
"I do," he murmurs. "I really do love ya." He knows he probably has a dopey smile on his face
Kiyoomi's face turns the prettiest shade of pink, the color stretching across his face from ear to ear. "I love you too, Atsu." His hand reaches out, placing itself in Atsumu’s hair and he starts to gently scratch his scalp. Atsumu hums and presses his head into Kiyoomi’s hand, his eyelids falling shut. He's content like this, just him and Omi in his room.
It's nice and incredibly domestic.
"Get some more sleep, baby. I'll be here if you need anything," Kiyoomi says softly. Atsumu feels the mattress shift and his head moved to rest in Kiyoomi's lap. He lets out a hum, his body relaxing against his boyfriend's legs as he allows himself to drift off.