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Sakusa Kiyoomi can’t cook. This is common knowledge, or at least it is to his housemates. God knows he’s tried; it’s just that everything he makes either burns to a crisp, or is undercooked to the point of being inedible.
Miya Atsumu won’t cook. It’s not that he’s lazy, except he kind of is. He grew up with a twin who cooked for him constantly, and a mother who loved cooking every bit as much. Even after leaving home, he’d moved straight into the MSBY sharehouse along with Bokuto Koutarou, who’s a surprisingly decent cook, and a generous one at that. So in all honesty, Atsumu hasn’t needed to cook for himself in years .
In conclusion, he’s not sure why he’s doing this.
Bokuto and Hinata are to blame, really. They’re the regular cooks of the household; since Hinata’s arrival the previous year, he’d taken charge as the Main Chef of the sharehouse. He’d picked up his fair share of recipes in Brazil, along with a good number of Japanese recipes as well. Bokuto often acts as his assistant, or sometimes takes the lead on nights when Hinata is too busy to cook.
It was only a matter of time before the two of them tired of cooking for four. Honestly, Atsumu should have seen this coming. Maybe he sort of did.
What he didn’t see coming was this.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” Bokuto booms into the mic that’s hooked around his ear, “to the first annual--”
“We have ta do this every year?” Atsumu mutters to Sakusa, adjusting his chef hat that reads Won’t in red embroidery.
“Shut it, Miya.” Sakusa’s embroidered Can’t is blue, and he pulls off the chef’s uniform far better than Atsumu. It’s obnoxious, really.
“--episode of Can’t Cook Won’t Cook! For those of you who have never heard of it, Can’t Cook Won’t Cook was a British cooking show that aired from 1995 to 2000. The objective of the show was to pit two contestants against each other, one of whom is incapable of cooking, the other of whom refuses to. Today, we welcome Miya Atsumu--” Atsumu takes a bow “--and Sakusa Kiyoomi--” Kiyoomi nods slightly at the camera, expression disgusted “--to the stage! Now, before we begin, let’s take a moment to introduce these lovely contestants.” He gestures grandly at Atsumu and Sakusa, then steps back to let Hinata take the lead.
“Atsumu-san!” Hinata says from his spot between Sakusa and Atsumu. “What brings you to our show?”
“Ya mean, apart from bein’ forced?” Atsumu jokes, winking at the camera. He doesn’t need to look at Sakusa to know he’s rolling his eyes.
“You refuse to cook,” Bokuto points out. “Why?”
Atsumu grimaces. “Jeez, Bo-kun, have a little tact, why don’tcha?”
When Bokuto had initially suggested this, Atsumu had thought, sure, why not? The four of them are regular vloggers, and post videos to their Youtube channel roughly twice a month. So really, how bad could it be?
“Anyway,” Atsumu says awkwardly, “as y’all may know, I grew up with a twin. ‘Samu was always the better cook, an’ he loved ta do it, so I tended ta sit back an’ let him do all the work. I had other shi--stuff, ta focus on anyway. So I guess the habit kinda stuck. An’ then I moved in with Bo-kun--” he gestures at Bokuto “--an’ let me tell ya, this man is a monster in the kitchen, not jus’ on the court. So’s Shou-kun,” he adds. “So, yeah. Never really had the need ta cook before.”
“He’s kind of a lazy fuck,” Sakusa chimes in. His mouth is covered by his trademark mask, but Atsumu’s certain he’s smirking.
Suna snickers from behind the camera, and Osamu and Komori, who are positioned beside Atsumu and Sakusa respectively, are barely holding back their laughter.
Atsumu scowls. “An’ yer a black teapot.”
“It’s a kettle, actually--” Sakusa corrects as Bokuto and Hinata groan.
“Moving on!” Yells Bokuto. “Sakusa-san, you’re here because you can’t, under any condition, cook. Like, ever. Why don’t you tell us what happened the last time you tried?”
“Yeah, Omi, why don’tcha?” Says Atsumu, smirking.
Sakusa wrinkles his nose. “I set the kitchen on fire.”
Atsumu cackles, and Bokuto and Hinata look as if they’re holding back laughter as well.
“It’s true,” says Hinata. “Fire extinguishers were employed. As in, multiple extinguishers.”
“It was a real mess,” Atsumu agrees, grinning at Sakusa.
“Fuck you,” Sakusa snaps.
Bokuto clears his throat. “Omi-kun, you do realize we’re going to air this?”
“Bleep me out,” says Sakusa dismissively.
“All right then,” Hinata says quickly. “Without further ado, let the games commence!”
“Shouldn’t we, like, explain the rules?” Bokuto says.
“There are no rules!” Hinata says. “Except to make the thing I’m making, and the best one wins! Osamu-san and Komori-san will be the judges,” he adds, gesturing at Osamu and Komori. Osamu waves awkwardly, while Komori blows a kiss at the camera.
Atsumu claps his hands together. “Let’s get cookin’!”
“Today, we will be making Chicken Satay,” Hinata declares, wheeling in a cart with a covered dish on top. “A classic Thai dish!” He whisks the lid off the dish to reveal chicken chunks on skewers. They look paler than they should, and Sakusa seems to think the same.
“Shouldn’t they be…darker?” He says, gesturing at the chicken.
“They’re fully cooked!” Claims Hinata.
Atsumu frowns. “Where’d ya get the recipe?”
“It’s the original from the British cooking show Can’t Cook Won’t Cook! This episode aired in 1999, I believe.”
Atsumu’s jaw drops. “No fuckin’ way. So we’re makin Thai food…usin’ an old white-person recipe?” He glances at his brother, and sure enough, the look on Osamu’s face is pure disgust.
“Worse,” says Sakusa. “Not just any white people, but British white people? The only spices they know how to use are salt and pepper.” He shudders dramatically.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine!” Says Hinata after a moment of hesitation. “Anyway, we should probably get started!” Hinata shoves the cart off screen, and it crashes into the wall, launching the dish lid and chunks of chicken into the air. Hinata ignores the mess entirely and steps forward to his own cooking setup.
“First,” says Hinata authoritatively, “we’re going to take the nuts and heat them in the oven. That’ll make it easier to get the skins off.”
Atsumu and Sakusa obediently pour the nuts onto a baking sheet and put them in the oven.
“Next,” Hinata continues, “we’re going to cut this lime in half and juice them into the bowl.” He gestures at the lime, which sits in the center of the cutting board. Sakusa and Atsumu cut their respective limes, and then squeeze half into their bowls. The other half they grate until there’s a small pile of zest in the mixture. Well, Atsumu’s got a small pile of zest. Sakusa can’t seem to get any at all.
There’s a joke in there somewhere, Atsumu thinks.
Hinata goes to help Sakusa with the zesting. Atsumu’s not sure how he managed to screw that up, but whatever. Either way, he’s gonna win this thing.
Once Sakusa finally gets some lime grated into his bowl, he and Atsumu squeeze the other half of the lime into the mixture.
“Now,” says Hinata, “we’re going to add a sprinkle of chile flakes! Just a small sprink--Atsumu-san, no!”
Atsumu grimaces at his bowl. “They came out kinda fast,” he admits, observing the mixture, which is now roughly 90% chile flakes.
Sakusa snorts meanly. “Nice going, Miya.”
Atsumu points at him. “Shut the fuck up, Omi.”
“Language,” calls Hinata sweetly, and Atsumu at least has the grace to be ashamed of himself.
Still, the way Sakusa briefly pulls his mask down just to stick his tongue out at Atsumu is infuriating. It makes Atsumu want to kick his fuckin’ face in.
“Next,” Hinata says, ignoring the palpable tension between the contestants, “we’re going to add just a dash of oil. Good, good!” He exclaims when both Sakusa and Atsumu manage the simple task.
“We’re not five year olds,” Atsumu grumbles.
“You certainly act like one,” Sakusa points out. “I, on the other hand--”
“Yer both five,” Osamu drawls.
Atsumu and Sakusa’s noses wrinkle in unison as Hinata says, “Moving on! The next step is to add some garlic using the garlic press.”
“Ya sure ya can touch that?” Atsumu taunts Sakusa. “Ya know, since yer a vampire an’ all?”
“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” Sakusa replies.
“He’s right,” calls Bokuto from where he’s standing between Osamu and Komori. “Sorry, Tsum-Tsum.”
Atsumu whips around and glares at him. “Did I ask ya?”
“Next!” Hinata practically yells to get Atsumu’s attention. “We’re going to take the nuts out of the oven! Please use an oven mitt. Once you get it out, you can dump them into your tea towel and set it to the side.”
Sakusa and Atsumu silently comply.
“Great!” Says Hinata, sounding pleased. “Now, it’s time for the knives!” Hinata’s eyes gleam in a frankly terrifying manner.
“Objection, your honor,” Sakusa says quickly.
Hinata frowns. “You know you can just talk, right?”
“I don’t think that we should give Miya a knife,” says Saksua bluntly.
Atsumu sputters. “What the hell’re ya talkin’ bout? ‘Course I can use a knife! My Ma taught ‘Samu an’ I at a young age! If anyone can’t be trusted, it’s ya .”
“You think I can’t handle a knife?” Sakusa retorts, brandishing his at Atsumu and taking a step towards him. “I’ll show you who can’t handle a knife--”
Atsumu points his own blade at Sakusa. “I challenge ya ta a duel!”
“Guys, put the knives down, please,” Hinata pleads. Bokuto looks concerned as well, while Suna is smirking, and Osamu and Komori are doubled over laughing.
“Only because I don’t want to traumatize our children,” says Sakusa, still glaring at Atsumu.
“You have children together?” Bokuto says, confused.
“He’s talking about us,” Hinata explains. “And we are not your children! Although,” he adds, “you do argue like an old married couple.”
Osamu coughs loudly, and Suna’s smirk widens. Atsumu glares at Osamu threateningly over his shoulder while Sakusa says, “Who’d marry Atsumu?”
Atsumu whips around, clutching his chest dramatically. “Ouch, Omi! What’d I ever do ta ya?”
“Exist,” Sakusa deadpans.
Hinata claps his hands together and yells, frantically, “All right! Time to cut the chicken! I’m sure you’ll both use the knives just fine, but will you please stop pointing them at each other!”
Atsumu and Sakusa lower their knives, still eyeing each other warily.
“So,” says Hinata after taking a deep breath. “We’re going to take our chicken and cut it into chunks about this big. See?” Hinata demonstrates.
Atsumu tries to copy the way Hinata cuts, he really does, but somehow his chunks end up large and misshapen.
“Not terrible?” Hinata tries as he scrutinizes Atsumu’s cutting job.
Atsumu groans. “It’s okay, I know I suck,” he says.
“‘Bout time ya admitted it,” Osamu calls.
“Shut it, scrub,” Atsumu fires back.
“The next step,” says Hinata, unfazed by the twins’ fighting, “is to put the pieces in the marinade and stir them around. Make sure the pieces get evenly coated, and then we’ll leave them to sit!”
Atsumu obediently stirs his chicken chunks around in the bowl until they’re thoroughly covered in marinade before setting the bowl aside.
“Now,” continues Hinata, “it’s time to start the sauce! First, let’s start by cutting the end off of these onions.” He shows them how to cut the onions, adding, “It’s okay to cry! I do it all the time. When I cut onions, I mean,” Hinata adds quickly.
“Miya can cry all he likes,” says Sakusa. “I certainly won’t.”
“Jokes on ya, Omi,” says Atsumu smugly. “I’ve not once cried from cuttin’ onions in my life.”
“Here we go again,” Osamu mutters.
Sakusa arches a brow. “And how many onions have you cut, exactly?”
Atsumu scowls. “Ya think I keep track of how many onions I cut?”
Hinata stares at them pointedly until they shut up and start cutting.
Here’s the thing, though: Atsumu wasn’t bluffing. He really is capable of cutting onions without shedding a tear. It drives Osamu nuts. “Why’d ya get that skill?” He’d always complain. “Yer not even a cook!”
Atsumu smirks as he makes the first cut, and then the second. He cuts the knobby bits off of all the onions and deposits them into the food processor, while Sakusa is still struggling to cut his second onion.
“What’s wrong, Omi?” Atsumu taunts. “Havin’ some trouble?”
Sakusa glares at him, eyes wet. A single tear tracks down his face as he says, “In your dreams, Miya.”
“He is in yer dreams,” Osamu mutters to Atsumu.
“That was one time!” Atsumu hisses. “And I toldja that in confidence!”
Eventually Sakusa finishes the onions, and then Hinata shows them how to operate the food processor.
“Just make sure the lid’s fully on--yeah, like that!” He says, watching proudly as the two of them complete what is likely the easiest step of the entire process.
“Now,” says Hinata once they’re done, “we’re going to add just a dash of soy sauce.”
Atsumu nods. Just a dash. He tips the bottle lightly and a sudden flood of soy sauce pours into the food processor.
Fuck.
Hinata and Sakusa watch him, eyebrows raised, as Atsumu grimaces. “It came out fast!” He defends.
“That’s exactly what you said about the chiles,” Sakusa points out.
“Yeah, well, they came out fast, too!”
“Okay!” Says Hinata loudly. “Now, we’re going to rub the nuts.” Atsumu snickers, and Hinata glares at him. “Don’t say it,” he warns. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Atsumu mimes locking his mouth and throwing away the key.
“This will help get the skins off,” Hinata explains as he wraps the nuts in the cloth and rubs them vigorously. Sure enough, when he opens the cloth, the peanuts are fully un-skinned.
“Cool!” Says Atsumu, rubbing at his own. “Kinda gross, but cool!”
“You’re a child,” says Sakusa disdainfully.
Atsumu continues rubbing gleefully. “It’s so fun, Omi! Try it!”
Sakusa wrinkles his nose but complies. His rubbing is every bit as methodical and consistent as the rest of him.
“Okay,” says Hinata, “now you can put the nuts into the food processor. Carefully,” he emphasizes, looking pointedly at Atsumu.
Atsumu just rolls his eyes and dumps the nuts in, only losing a few of them in the process.
“Great,” says Hinata. “Go ahead and blend them up. Stir occasionally to make sure they’re not sticking to the blade,” he adds thoughtfully.
When they finish blending the mixture, Hinata says, “Okay, now we’re going to go back to the chicken. Now that it’s marinated,” he continues, “you’re going to put the chunks on a skewer.” He impales a chunk of his own chicken on the wooden skewer and slides it down to the bottom to demonstrate. “Like that!”
Sakusa and Atsumu follow suit, and it seems to be going well until Atsumu’s skewer decides to break.
Atsumu barely manages to catch the other half in time. Sakusa stares at Atsumu smugly while Atsumu struggles to take the chunks off of the broken skewer.
“Here’s a new one, Atsumu-san!” Says Hinata earnestly. Atsumu takes the skewer gratefully and begins the process anew.
When he’s finally done, the two of them put their chicken on the grill.
“Make sure you check on it occasionally,” Hinata instructs. “Now, let’s get back to the sauce. Go ahead and scrape the food processor contents into the pan.” He gestures at the two pans on the front burners of their shared stove. The grill is in the center of the stove, so hopefully it will be easy to keep an eye on the chicken as they make the sauce.
“Okay,” says Hinata, “time to add some coconut milk! We’re gonna add all of it, ‘cause it’ll make the sauce super creamy!”
Atsumu dumps the carton of coconut milk into the pan and begins stirring.
“Finally,” Hinata says, “we’re going to add the juice of half a lime. I already cut this one, so you can each have a half!”
Sakusa reaches out and snatches half the lime.
“Hey, that’s the bigger one,” Atsumu complains.
“It’s not my fault you’re so slow to react,” Sakusa replies.
Atsumu sputters. “I’ll show ya slow ta react!” Without thinking, he chucks his lime half straight at Sakusa’s face. It hits his mask before falling straight to the ground.
“Now who’s slow ta react,” Atsumu says smugly.
Sakusa’s glare could cut glass. “Any last words, Miya?”
Atsumu’s smile wavers. “Hu--”
Faster than his eyes can track, Sakusa grabs the knife from the counter and pushes Atsumu to the back of the room, shoving him up against the wall.
Hot, Atsumu thinks automatically.
“I,” says Sakusa, glowering and holding the knife aloft as his hand closes over Atsumu’s throat, “am going to--”
“Kiyo!” Yells Komori, grabbing his cousin. “Stop! Jesus!” He turns to Atsumu, concerned. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” Atsumu wheezes. “Yer cousin is scary.” And hot, he doesn’t say.
Osamu and Suna are cackling in the background as Sakusa stares him down. “Komori won’t always be around,” he says in a low voice. “So watch your back. Sleep with one eye open. Tread cautiously--”
“Okay, I get it!” Atsumu says loudly. “I won’t cross ya. Jeez, Omi.”
Sakusa eyes him. “I don’t believe that for a second,” he says before turning dramatically and storming back to his spot at the counter.
“Don’t forget to stir the sauce,” Hinata says weakly as Atsumu returns to his place by the stove.
Atsumu stirs the contents of his pan contemplatively. He doesn’t, like, always thinks Sakusa is hot. Just, like, sometimes. Usually when he’s mad. Specifically, when he’s mad at Atsumu. There’s just something so thrilling about having the entire weight of Sakusa’s gaze on him, and his eyes get really dark when he’s mad. When he gets really pissed, he pushes Atsumu around. If Atsumu’s lucky, he gets thrown into a wall or something.
There’s probably somethin’ wrong with me, Atsumu concludes.
“Atsumu-san!” Says Hinata frantically. “Your sauce is burning!”
Atsumu snaps to attention. “Shit!” He says, quickly turning off the heat.
“Miya, your chicken is charred,” Sakusa says, sounding bored.
“Fuck!”
“Stop swearin’, scrub,” Osamu calls.
Atsumu ignores him, quickly turning his chicken skewer over to find that the edges are, indeed, slightly charred.
“Fuck,” he says again.
Sakusa comes up behind him and leans in close. “You really thought you would win this, huh?” He says into Atsumu’s ear.
Atsumu grits his teeth. “Swear ta God, Omi--”
Sakusa tsks. “Instead of swearing to God, you should be praying…for a miracle,” he says before leaning away.
Atsumu wants to curse him out. He doesn’t, because contrary to what most people believe, he’s got class.
“Now we’re going to make the salsa,” Hinata announces obliviously. “First we’re going to cut up the mango, and then add half a lime. Here, Atsumu-san, you get an extra one for your sauce since you threw yours at Sakusa-san!”
“You’re rewarding bad behavior,” Sakusa deadpans.
“After you add the lime,” says Hinata, ignoring Sakusa, “you’re going to cut this cucumber into cubes. First, make it a rectangle, like this.” Hinata cleanly slices the sides off of the cucumber to make it into a long rectangle shape before cutting it into small cubes.
Atsumu tries to copy him, but somehow his cuts go wonky, and before he knows it he’s got a cucumber that is decidedly not rectangle-shaped.
“Very good, Sakusa-san!” Hinata praises. Then he turns to look at Atsumu’s and winces. “Uh, maybe just cut straight next time?” He tries.
Atsumu frowns. “I tried,” he says.
“It’s okay, Miya,” says Sakusa. “That just means that your best wasn’t enough.”
“Fuck you.”
“Next,” says Hinata, talking over them, “you’re going to cut up some coriander and add it to the salsa. Then all you have to do is stir it!”
Atsumu stirs his lumpy mixture and grimaces. It looks somewhat unappetizing.
“Now, it’s time to plate!” Declares Hinata excitedly. Bokuto gives an enthusiastic whoop. Hinata brings out two plates complete with a small bowl for the sauce. He passes one to Atsumu, who immediately starts shoveling sauce into the small bowl. “I’m gonna win,” he taunts Sakusa.
“It’s not a race, Miya,” Sakusa says irritably.
“Like hell it ain’t!”
Atsumu carefully arranges the slightly charred chicken skewers beside the salsa and inspects his job. “Done,” he announces when he’s satisfied that it looks all right.
Bokuto claps. “Nice, Tsum-Tsum!”
Sakusa finishes his a moment later, and Hinata calls Osamu and Komori over for the tasting.
“I’m going to blindfold you both,” he says, “and feed you bites of each dish. That way the judging will be completely anonymous.”
“Sounds good!” Chirps Komori, tying the blindfold around his head.
Once they both have theirs on, Hinata takes turns feeding them bites of each dish. He feeds Atsumu’s to both of them first, and then lets them take a drink of water before trying Sakusa’s.
Osamu actually gags when he tries Atsumu’s. “This is terrible,” he states. Then he tries Sakusa’s. “Ugh. This one’s even worse.”
Atsumu smirks at Sakusa.
Then it’s Motoya’s turn. “I liked the second one better, actually,” he adds thoughtfully after swallowing. “They both kind of suck, though. I think you probably should’ve used an actual Thai recipe.”
Hinata grimaces. “Next time,” he promises.
“Please don’t make me do this again,” Sakusa begs, but Hinata ignores him. “Since you both chose different contestants, I’ll have to be the tie-breaker!” He says. He tries a bite of each dish while the others wait expectantly. After chewing and swallowing, Hinata says, “You can take your blindfolds off now!”
Komori and Osamu remove their blindfolds. “So?” Says Osamu, arching a brow. “Who’s the winner?”
“Sakusa-san,” Hinata announces. “Congratulations!”
“What’s the prize,” says Sakusa bluntly. “And can I keep this knife.” He gestures at the large butcher’s knife resting on the cutting board.
“No and no,” says Hinata apologetically. “Sorry, no prize, buuuut now you do know a brand new recipe!”
“A shit one,” Osamu mutters under his breath. Atsumu thinks he sounds personally offended.
“Congrats, Omi-kun!” Bokuto cheers.
Sakusa looks all too smug for Atsumu’s taste. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me, Miya?” He says.
Atsumu pretends to think about it for a moment. Then he says, “Nah. I don’t think ya deserve it.”
“Someone’s a sore loser,” Suna sings. Atsumu makes it his life’s mission to ignore him, instead choosing to stare down Sakusa. “Next time,” says Atsumu, “I’m gonna kick yer ass. Watch yer back, Omi.”
“That’s my line,” says Sakusa, sneering.
“Not anymore.”
“This is cute an’ all, but can we please wrap this up?” Osamu drawls. “I gotta go scrub my tongue.”
“Thank you for watching, and have a good night!” Hinata shouts at the camera. Bokuto waves genially and Komori blows a kiss as Suna says, “Cut,” and lowers his camera.
Atsumu doesn’t take his eyes off Sakusa.
An hour later, Atsumu’s holed up in his room, moping. He just lost a cooking competition to Sakusa fucking Kiyoomi. It’s gonna take a lot for him to come back from that.
There’s a sudden knock at his door. Atsumu trudges across his room and opens it to reveal an excited looking Hinata.
“The video’s up!” He says in lieu of a greeting. “It’s already got a few comments! You should watch it with us,” he adds excitedly.
Atsumu forces a smile. “Sure thing, Shou-kun. Gimme a sec.” He retreats into his room, to grab a hoodie and scream silently into his fist before joining Hinata in the hallway.
They meet in the common room. Suna, Motoya and Osamu are blessedly absent, and Sakusa and Bokuto are seated at opposite ends of the sofa, the computer perched on top of the coffee table in front of them.
Hinata throws himself down next to Bokuto, leaving Atsumu to squeeze between him and Sakusa. Sakusa, surprisingly, doesn’t comment on his proximity. His eyes are fixed on the corny intro Suna had edited into the video.
The video, overall, isn’t that bad, Atsumu decides. It’s a bit rough around the edges, and they swear a lot more often than they should, but Suna’s a half decent editor, and it’s entertaining, to say the least.
They’re at the fifteen minute mark when he notices the comment.
Did anyone catch what Atsumu said at 17:43?
Atsumu frowns. What had he said at 17:43?
Holy shit!! Another comment reads. He said “hot”!!!
“Hey, Bo,” he says, confused. “What happens at 17:43?”
Bokuto frowns. “I dunno. We’re not there yet.”
“Skip ahead,” Atsumu demands.
“But--”
“Just do it,” Atsumu says. “Please?”
Bokuto sighs. “Fine. But I wanna go back and watch the rest after, okay?”
“Sure,” says Atsumu dismissively.
Sakusa is oddly quiet, Atsumu notices, but he doesn’t think much of it. Then Bokuto drags the cursor to the 17:43 time stamp and presses play.
Sakusa has Atsumu pinned up against the wall with his hand, knife in his other hand. Suna had zoomed in on their faces, which are inches apart. As if that isn’t incriminating enough on its own, a single word falls from Atsumu’s lips.
“ Hot.”
It’s more of a breath than a word, really. Still, it’s audible. And thanks to Atsumu’s mic, it’s also loud.
“Fuck,” mumbles Atsumu, face hot. “Didn’ realize I said that out loud.” He glances at Sakusa accusingly. “Why didn’tcha say somethin’?”
“What was I supposed to say?” Says Sakusa calmly.
“I dunno!” Says Atsumu, frustrated. “Maybe ‘ What the fuck, Miya’?”
“I threatened your life,” Sakusa reminds him. “I figured that would do the trick.”
“Yeah, well, it didn’ exactly clue me in on ya havin’ heard that!” Atsumu says defensively.
“Why does it matter that I heard it?”
“‘Cause ya weren’t supposed ta!” Atsumu fires back. He dimly registers that Bokuto and Hinata have left the room. Atsumu’s not sure that’s a good thing.
“Why not?” Says Sakusa, sounding genuinely puzzled. “Why does it matter?”
Atsumu sighs, exasperated. “Isn’ it obvious? I don’ want ya ta know I think yer hot!”
“Why not?” Sakusa prods.
Atsumu levels a stare at him. “Yer gonna make me say it?”
“Say what?”
Atsumu groans. “Jeez, Omi! How are ya this dense?”
Sakusa frowns. “I don’t--”
“I like ya, Omi,” Atsumu blurts. “I mean, technically I didn’ realize that I did until about two seconds ago, but I think yer hot when yer mad an’ I really wanna kiss ya like, a lot, an’ I think that prob’ly means I like ya. That’s why.”
“Oh,” says Sakusa slowly. “Ah.”
“I know ya don’ like me,” says Atsumu wearily. “So forget I said anythin’.” He gets to his feet, but Sakusa catches his wrist before he can leave. “Wait,” he says. “Stay.”
“I’m not yer fuckin’ dog, Omi,” Atsumu says, but he sits back down anyway.
Sakusa doesn’t let go of his wrist. “Why do you think I don’t like you?”
Atsumu stares at him. “Uh. Because ya say so? Like, a lot?”
Sakusa’s looks confused. “And you think I mean it?”
Atsumu snorts. “Yeah? I mean, why else wouldja say it?”
“I mean it sometimes,” Sakusa admits, squeezing Atsumu’s wrist so tight it’s almost painful. “That doesn’t mean I mean it all the time,” Sakusa continues, not meeting his eyes. “So, you’re wrong. I don’t dislike you. Actually, I probably like you too much.”
Atsumu takes a moment to process that. Then he says, “Wait, what?”
Sakusa rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to say it again. That was embarrassing.”
“I’m not gonna believe ya if ya don’t,” Atsumu says honestly.
Sakusa sighs. “Fucking fine. Atsumu, I like you. Go out with me, or whatever.”
Atsumu wrinkles his nose. “ That’s how ya confess ta me? God, that’s embarrassin’ fer ya. Terrible story fer our future kids, too, if ya ask me.”
“I already regret telling you,” Sakusa grumbles.
Atsumu squeezes his hand. “I’m not gonna let ya regret it. But,” he says, smiling slowly, “I am gonna tell Komori-kun about yer terrible confession. Oh, boy,” he adds gleefully, “he’s never gonna let ya hear the end of that one.”
“Do you want to die,” Sakusa says flatly.
“Only if yer the one killin’ me,” Atsumu says honestly.
“Good to know,” Sakusa says before pulling Atsumu in.
Sakusa Kiyoomi is a too-blunk jerk. Miya Atsumu is a big fat jerk.
Neither of them can cook, but that’s okay.