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“Hello???” Atsumu mumbled into the dark hotel room, straight out of a dead sleep. He was sure he’d heard something. As he was about to shake it off and roll over, he heard again, three soft but insistent knocks. He stumbled out of bed, barely able to see through his sleepy haze. He cracked the door open, squinting against the soft hallway lights. Sakusa stood there looking equally groggy.
“Move, Miya.” He grumbled, walking straight in and falling into the bed.
“What?” He stood in place, completely dazed as he watched his curly-haired teammate settle beneath his comforter like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“I’m locked out of mine. I’m not going to the front desk. I’m not waking up Meian. You’re sharing.”
“Okay.” He agreed, shutting the door with a yawn. He didn’t really mind, he’d shared things most of his life and- “...What?”
“Hinata Shoyo is a public menace.” Atsumu did not know exactly what that meant, nor the exact series of events that led to Sakusa having to trudge down the hallway to his room, but somehow it made sense. It was unclear whether the brain fog of sleep deprivation made it make more or less sense. “Don’t kick me.” Kiyoomi muttered as the weight shifted and Atsumu layed on the other side of the bed, back to back with his teammate.
“‘Samu’s the bed-hog, not me.” He huffed, taking slightly too much pride in that fact.
Kiyoomi grumbled something, but not coherently enough for it to mean anything
The blinds weren’t very good, so when the sun rose at 6 AM and neither was ready to get up, Atsumu pulled the covers over his face, Kyoomi followed absently, not recognizing that they were no longer back to back.
At 7:30, an alarm in the room next door blared obnoxiously, jolting both of them fully awake. The alarm continued for another 20 seconds. Then 40.
“Who’s your neighbor?” Kiyoomi stared pure hatred straight through the wall, clearly not one for having his sleep interrupted.
“Bokuto.” The setter covered his head with a pillow to try to drown it out.
“Oh god.” He realized that alarm would stay on until at least 8. “I’m gonna go get my room back,” he decided before realizing he wasn’t fully dressed. On the chair in the corner, he spied a familiar windbreaker, “Miya, how clean is your jacket?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
"Washed it b'fore we left.” He responded from beneath the pillow.
“I’m taking it.” Kiyoomi did not ask for things. But once again, Atsumu was perfectly fine with his things occasionally disappearing and reappearing. It was a part of life. Especially when everything just said Miya on it. “I’ll give it back later.” He promised, zipping it up and dipping his mouth low in lieu of a mask.
He shuffled down to the front desk to beg to be let back into his room. It did smell kind of nice…. And that was a perfectly normal and acceptable thought to have about a teammate-who-you-just-shared-a-bed-with’s jacket.
“Good morning!” Hinata appeared from nowhere to the mild alarm of Kyoomi, who, please god, just wanted a chance to wake up quietly. “Is that Atsumu’s jacket?” Damn the perceptive tangerine.
“No.” He shut the door in the ginger’s face before he could lock him out of his own room a second time. He lied with a lot of confidence for someone with ‘Miya’ embroidered across their back.
Dutifully, he delivered the jacket back to the setter’s room.
“Thank you.” Kiyoomi said, somewhat reluctantly.
“Omi- one question, before ya make me swear to never mention this ever again to another breathin’ soul…” The blonde made a correct assumption. “Why me?”
“I figured your bed was the cleanest.” He tried to shrug
“...What?” It was beginning to feel like the only thing he could say.
“Well, you’re not superstitious like some people.” The concept of staying in a room with a pair of ‘lucky’ socks or underwear that hadn’t been washed in however long? It made Kiyoomi want to die. “And I know you don’t like to go to bed sweaty, so you shower at night. Clean bed.”
“Now, how do you know that-” Atsumu had this sick, flirtatious smirk on his stupid stupid face... After all now he was awake enough to process the whole situation.
“Miya, you post mirror pictures of yourself in a towel at 10:45pm several times a week. I’m not obsessed with you, you’re just a creature of habit.” He hoped he sounded nonchalant and annoyed enough that the ‘I’m not obsessed with you’ line sold. He wasn’t even obsessed… A little enamored? Perhaps. Intrigued? Sure. Potentially maybe slightly just a little bit attracted? …no . No.
“Do you really see those?”
“Yes.” He looked exasperated, and if the blonde didn’t know better, he might say slightly embarrassed. “Miya- your social media is public- you know that, right?”
“Well I mean, I dunno- you don’t seem like the type to go scrolling through Instagram before bed.” He shrugged. “10:45- do you have post notifications on for me?” He threw an exaggerated wink and Kiyoomi wanted to hate it so bad.
“Absolutely not.” Yes. W h a a a t ? Who said that?
“...D'ya like whatcha see?” He drawled, playing up his own accent in the most annoying way possible. Kiyoomi looked his teammate up and down as the obnoxious setter waggled his eyebrows, flirting (mostly) as a joke.
Sure, Atsumu was objectively attractive. Everybody thought so. He was an athlete, he’d been picked for a few sponsorship photoshoots, how could they not? He was tall and fit, cute face, confident smile, broad shoulders, strong arms, nice ass, horrendously unfair thighs- Kiyoomi realized he had been considering his answer for much much too long.
“No.”
Once again, he lied awfully boldly for somebody who’d spent more than fifteen minutes staring at those images in the past 48 hours and who’d recently asked his cousin to bully him out of this crush…
Atsumu was a bit keener than Hinata in terms of recognizing a terrible liar when he saw one. He chuckled, looking Kiyoomi up and down the same way he’d just been evaluated by those dark, allegedly ‘unimpressed’ eyes.
“Well… You’re more than welcome to sleep with me any time.” He flashed that obnoxious, cocky grin one more time, it crinkled his nose just so. The way Kiyoomi’s body reacted, his brain, his face, his heart, his stomach, all of them were now considered vile betrayers. Absolutely fuck off.
“I. Will. See you… Later. Miya.
“Bye, Omi~”
The absolute pain when he had to turn around.
“Don’t mention this-”
“No one has to know what we do, babe.” Atsumu laughed, making a heart with his fingers for Kiyoomi, who just stared at him while his mind blared: Babe. Babe. Babe. Babe. Babe. Babe. Babe. Babe. Babe. The setter dropped the teasing act for a moment, “I won’t. Don’t worry.” Of course that meant he’d tell Osamu, who lived for drama, but other than that, he was completely genuine.
In all fairness, the next thing Kiyoomi did, alone in his room, was relay the entire interaction for Motoya, who laughed for a long while at his cousin’s expense. He informed Kiyoomi that he was, quote, “down bad, down absolutely atrocious…” And that he could not be bullied out of this crush. He was too far gone. “Say what you want about Miya Atsumu, he’s hot, he’s funny, and he’s onto you and your stupid, pining ass.”