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Sakusa Kiyoomi is a drug dealer.
Okay, that’s probably a bit of an exaggeration.
But man, does Kiyoomi carry a lot of drugs.
It became apparent during their first away game after he joined the team. They’d gone out for the night, and Tomas had had one too many shots, toppled over on the curb, and won himself a nasty graze that ran the length of his forearm.
He’d sat there, all 6’7 of him, crumpled up on the side of the road staring at the blood running down his arm while the rest of the team battled their inebriation trying to figure out how to help him. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, Kiyoomi had produced a little white pouch.
He’d pulled out bandaids, cotton balls, and a travel-sized bottle of anaesthetic, and patched Tomas up right there on the street, dolling out aspirin to everyone else while he was at it.
From then on, Kiyoomi had become the team’s resident pharmacist.
Have a headache? Ask Kiyoomi. Run out of toothpaste during an overnight trip? Kiyoomi’s got you. Need some deep heat cream for tired muscles? Kiyoomi.
More or less everyone on the team has been treated with something from Kiyoomi’s apothecary bag.
There was the time Bokuto had lost his voice after a particularly raucous night out. The inability to communicate had left him absolutely distraught, hair drooping in sympathy with the rest of him, until Kiyoomi had produced a pack of lozenges and a sachet of lemon tea.
Or there was the time Barnes had left a UTI untreated for a few too many days until he was practically crying every time he peed. Kiyoomi had ambushed him outside the bathroom stall with a sachet full of salts and the number of the team doctor already dialled on his phone.
There had even been one occasion when Inunaki had called on Kiyoomi for a “contraception emergency”, and Kiyoomi had reluctantly handed over a box of condoms—complete with a side helping of heavy disdain.
So yeah, pretty much everyone on the team has called on Kiyoomi for medical advice at some point. Everyone except Atsumu.
Atsumu is generally a healthy guy. And an organised one, too. He doesn’t suffer from hay fever, doesn’t get weird skin rashes like Hinata does when he accidentally eats kiwi, and he’s certainly never been unprepared for an intimate encounter.
But lately—
Lately, he’s been feeling kind of weird.
He keeps getting these strange pangs in his chest. And his stomach has been a bit off, too. Not to mention the insomnia.
There’s no rhyme nor reason to it. It doesn’t seem to be linked to the weather or anything he’s eating.
All he knows is that every now and then, when they’re testing out new plays at practice or watching movies in the dim light of the dorms’ shared living room, Atsumu starts to feel a little funny.
Not bad funny, just…different.
Noticeable.
And the weird thing is, it seems to have something to do with Kiyoomi.
When he sits next to Atsumu during board game night, or leans in to talk to him while they’re huddled together on the sidelines during halftime, Atsumu gets this weird stomach-chest-lung thing.
It’s kind of concerning. Atsumu has never had any real medical issues before, and he starts to worry that maybe there’s something seriously wrong with him.
And then one day, he figures it out.
“Omi, I think I’m allergic to yer aftershave.”
Kiyoomi turns to face him, blinking slowly. The locker room has mostly cleared out, it’s just the two of them there, with Inunaki’s shower singing providing an off-key but not altogether terrible soundtrack.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Ya don’t hafta stop using it or anythin! I was actually gonna ask if ya have any of those little pink tablets I can take for it. Ya know, the ones ya gave Shoyou when he drank that cocktail with the pineapple in it.”
“Antihistamines,” Kiyoomi corrects. His eyes rake over Atsumu, assessing his form from top to bottom. “What are your symptoms?”
“My chest feels all tingly,” Atsumu begins, rattling off a list. “And my heart starts to beat really fast, like we’ve just pulled off a quick. My stomach gets kinda twisty, and sometimes I feel really hot, too.”
Kiyoomi’s eyes are narrowed, but his expression gives nothing away.
“And it only happens around ya,” Atsumu finishes, intent on providing as much detail as Kiyoomi requires to make his diagnosis.
“So I figured it had to be yer aftershave or somethin. But I don’t want ya to stop wearin it,” he hurries to clarify. “Because it smells real nice on ya, Omi! So maybe just…just some of those…little pills…”
Atsumu trails off, his speech petering out as his chest starts to thump. Kiyoomi has suddenly gotten very close.
“Is your stomach twisting now?”
Atsumu nods.
“And what about your heart, is it racing?”
Atsumu swallows, his throat painfully dry. He nods again.
Kiyoomi hums.
“Atsumu,” he smirks, and Atsumu’s stomach churns as if responding to the call of his name. “I haven’t worn aftershave since Monday. I ran out and keep forgetting to replace the bottle.”
Atsumu’s mouth forms around an “oh” syllable, but no sound comes out.
“I think I can fix your problem, though,” Kiyoomi lifts a hand, hovering slightly above Atsumu’s shoulder. “May I?”
“Sure,” Atsumu croaks.
Before he really has time to react, Kiyoomi is leaning forward and pressing a featherlight kiss to his lips. And then another. And another.
He pulls back, eyes sparkling as he gazes at Atsumu assessingly.
“How’s your stomach now?”
“Feels kinda funny still,” Atsumu smiles, sheepish. “But it’s a good kinda funny.”
“Good,” Kiyoomi grins. “I’m prescribing you dinner, tomorrow night, with me. I think that’ll help.”
Atsumu’s heart beats wildly against his ribs, but he finds that this time, he doesn’t really mind.
“Whatever ya say, doc.”