Work Text:
”You’re still young, Kiyoomi; you’ve got to make bolder decisions.”
“Sakusa-san, could you please do this for me?”
“I need this done by this weekend. You can do that right?”
“Hey, Kiyoomi! Do this for me, yeah? Thanks.”
“Thanks a bunch dude! I’ll make it up to you soon!”
Kiyoomi huffed as he stepped onto the elevator, hurriedly pressing the button, hoping no one got on with him.
Today was one of those days.
When he came in this morning, he was immediately tailed by one of his colleagues with a stack of files in her hands. It didn’t need a rocket scientist to figure out that she wanted him to do something for her. Not having much on his plate yet, he accepted the task and received the entire stack. Then, later in the day, as he was going over the task from the morning, another colleague popped by his table and asked him to review something of his because he apparently had somewhere to be. Kiyoomi figured he still had some time left for extra work, so he accepted this task as well, not expecting an entire team to hand him their work. Top that all off with a long pep talk about working harder from his boss, and you’ve pretty much got the worst day ever. Just thinking about it again almost gave Kiyoomi a headache. He just wanted to go home.
The doors of the elevator parted with a ding, signaling that he’d already made it to his floor. A sigh of relief escaped him as soon as he recognized the familiar chalk-white hallway leading up to his apartment.
Home was only a mere few steps away.
Atsumu was only a mere few steps away.
Taking out his keycard, Kiyoomi pictured Atsumu waiting up for him and started calculating how many times he can appropriately take a leave just to spend extra time with his husband.
He tapped the card onto the reader and waited for the little beep to sound before pushing the door open.
“I’m home,” he announced as he took off his mask and shoes.
Upon entry, he could hear sounds coming from the sitting area. Atsumu must’ve been watching something while waiting for him. It sounded like a documentary of some sorts. Strange—Atsumu rarely ever watches documentaries, except for when there was nothing better to watch.
“Atsumu?”
“Over here!”
Just hearing his voice was enough to lift a part of the burden that had been piling on Kiyoomi’s mind. He wanted nothing more than to run over and be held in the other’s arms.
“Welcome home,” Atsumu said when he saw Kiyoomi walking over. He had a grin on his face, and if you looked close enough you could practically see a tail wagging frantically behind him.
Without saying anything, Kiyoomi made his way over to where Atsumu was sitting and put his arms around the other’s neck, effectively hugging him from behind the couch. Atsumu chuckled at that and reached a hand up to gently caress Kiyoomi’s soft, curly hair. Kiyoomi leaned towards the touch, seeking more of it.
“Have you eaten?” Atsumu asked, twirling a curl around his finger before going back to caressing.
“Mhm.”
“How was yer day?”
Kiyoomi’s eyebrow twitched. He wished Atsumu hadn’t asked him that question. Not even in his own home was he free from thoughts of work… But it wasn’t like it was Atsumu’s fault; he simply wanted to know how his day went. No harm in that.
Brushing his cheek against Atsumu’s, he let out a quiet sigh through his nose. “It was… shitty.”
He heard Atsumu hum disapprovingly.
“How so?”
Another sigh. “Just… It just was.”
Atsumu’s hand paused briefly before continuing, pushing back some loose hair behind his ear.
“D’you wanna talk about it?”
Did he want to talk about it? Truthfully, no. Kiyoomi knew if he did, he’d end up going on an hour-long rant about his colleagues’ poor time management and how they could divide it better. And he wouldn’t stop there—oh, no, he’d end up talking about his boss too and say things that would definitely get him fired if the older man were there to hear him. Besides, he didn’t want to bore Atsumu with his complaints. It wasn’t like this was his first bad day.
“Mmh… Maybe,” he said anyway, “but I wanna shower first though.”
“Alright.”
Atsumu turned his head slightly and pressed a gentle kiss on Kiyoomi’s cheek, long enough to make a little smile bloom on the other’s face. With that, Kiyoomi gave Atsumu one last light squeeze before letting him go and disappearing into their bedroom, where the bathroom was.
Kiyoomi had never been one to take long showers; he hated getting pruney fingers more than anything in the world.
Another thing he hated was being hit with a sudden chill after a nice warm shower. So when he got out of the shower, he wasted no time in picking out his clothes for the night. He’d usually pick out a bottom that matched his top, but he couldn’t be bothered to do that tonight. Without much thought, he took out whatever looked comfortable and slipped into them before exiting the room, seeking warmth.
It wasn’t until he’d returned to the sitting area and caught Atsumu doing a double take at him that he’d realized he’d taken one of Atsumu’s shorts instead of his own. (No wonder they felt a little loose around his thighs.) Whether Atsumu realized or if he was only appreciating his appearance, Kiyoomi didn’t know. Even if he did realize, he was nice enough to not point it out.
“C’mere.” Atsumu smiled, opening his arms for Kiyoomi.
Kiyoomi often found himself enveloped by those arms on many occasions—both the good and bad ones. Sometimes there needn’t be one for him to let Atsumu scoop him up and hold him; he’d just sit next to Atsumu and wait until the other caught his hint.
Being fully aware of that fact about himself, Kiyoomi happily made his way over to the couch, where his entire person was immediately pulled into a warm embrace.
Atsumu smelled nice—clean, like fabric softener. Kiyoomi found that he’d grown to like the smell over time. Sometimes he wondered if he genuinely liked it or if his fondness was due to Atsumu’s frequent use of it. He could never decide on an answer. All he knew was that this was one of his favorite scents. As Kiyoomi laid his head on top of the other’s chest, he couldn’t help but sniff a bit of it before letting out a content sigh. Comfortable was a large understatement.
The two chose to stay silent, enjoying the quiet sounds of each other's breathing. On the TV, a documentary on sea life was playing. The two weren’t particularly interested in it, but they watched it anyway. However, their attention was unevenly split between the screen and each other’s distracting hands.
At some point of the night, Kiyoomi decided to close his eyes, tuning out every other sound except for the muted sound of Atsumu’s steady heartbeat. Listening to it made him feel at ease—grounded, like he wasn’t inches away from throwing a work-induced fit. He kept his eyes closed for the remainder of the documentary and eventually fell asleep to the lullaby played by Atsumu’s heart.
When he opened them next, the first thing he saw was Atsumu, looking straight ahead, seemingly immersed in something on TV. Kiyoomi turned his head to the side to see that the other man was watching a movie. He couldn’t remember the title, but he recognized the actors. This was a recently released movie.
As he watched the two main characters interact with each other, he shifted to his side, trying to get into a more comfortable position to watch. And Atsumu must’ve felt him move, because not too long after Kiyoomi found the perfect position, he felt a hand resting on his waist. All of his focus on recalling the movie title immediately dispersed, and instead shifted to that hand and its owner.
Kiyoomi turned his head again to find Atsumu, smiling at him.
“Didja sleep well?” he asked, his other hand making its way to Kiyoomi’s hair, tucking a few strands behind his ear.
It was now that he’d realized he was no longer laying his head on Atsumu’s chest but instead on his lap. The absence of his heartbeat and the weird angle should’ve been a dead giveaway. He wondered how he didn’t feel the other man move him. He must’ve slept too deeply.
“I did,” he answered, shifting his body so now he was lying face up again. “Felt like I was sleeping on clouds… Really firm clouds.”
Atsumu barked out a laugh at that but quickly covered his smile with the hand that had been resting on Kiyoomi’s waist. He shook his head and tried to turn his attention back to the TV, biting his lip to suppress his smile. Seeing him like that brought a smile to Kiyoomi’s own face. It’s true that smiles are contagious, and Atsumu’s is the most contagious one.
The blond chuckled and shook his head again before his smile abruptly turned into something different, somewhat unreadable.
“You must be tired,” he said.
His smile had completely vanished by now, its place taken over by a blank, yet very obviously upset look. Kiyoomi’s own face fell at the sight.
Atsumu was right. He was indeed tired—exhausted, even—to the point that closing his eyes for a few seconds could send him straight to snoozeland. But that was all because of work. He was home now, and instead of his work computer, glaring at him to get work done, there was the TV; instead of his bothersome colleagues, there was Atsumu.
Kiyoomi hummed. “I am,” he said, then searched beside himself for Atsumu’s hand to bring up to his lips, “but you don’t need to worry about that.” He ended the sentence with a kiss on Atsumu’s knuckles.
To that, Atsumu responded by giving him a disapproving look. He didn’t pull away his hand, but the slight furrow of his eyebrows and the small pout told Kiyoomi that he wasn’t too happy with that answer. He had probably meant for it to provoke Kiyoomi into giving him a different sort of reaction, but the other man found it rather endearing instead. Amused, Kiyoomi placed Atsumu’s hand on his chest. An idea had brewed in his head.
“My, my…” Kiyoomi was grinning. “Is the Miya Atsumu actually worried about me?”
This caught the blond off guard, creating a crack on the serious demeanor he so desperately tried to keep up. Atsumu pursed his lips to hold back what seemed to be another smile. And as a light red tint crept up his cheeks, he rolled his eyes, trying (and failing) to subtly play it off. For Atsumu’s sake, Kiyoomi tried his best not to laugh or even chuckle, but he still kept his grin on.
“Of course I am, ya dumbass." Atsumu huffed. “I’m yer husband.”
Kiyoomi hummed and brought Atsumu’s hand up to his lips again, this time kissing his palm before placing it back on his chest, right above his heart. He was glad.
“What do you say we go to bed right now?” he asked.
“Hey! Don’t change the subject!”
Kiyoomi chuckled. “But I’m tired, ‘Tsumu…”
“Tch. Are ya really?”
“Mhm.”
Whatever was left of that serious demeanor of his crumbled away when he finally smiled at the man laying on his lap. Kiyoomi made sure to take a mental picture of the reddened tips of Atsumu’s ears.
“Okay. Let’s go to bed.”
Kiyoomi sat up as Atsumu reached over the coffee table for the remote. The hushed dialogue between the two lovers on TV came to an abrupt stop as Atsumu turned it off. By the side, Kiyoomi held out his hand to the blond, waiting for him to take it—which didn’t take long, because as soon as Atsumu saw the outstretched hand, he grabbed it and let himself be led to their bedroom.
At the door, just before they entered, Atsumu pulled his unsuspecting husband close to him and, with his free hand, cupped Kiyoomi’s face to briefly press their lips together.
“You worked hard today."