Work Text:
“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”
“Language, Miya-kun.”
Takeda shoots Atsumu a warning look from across the room. He’s pulling scientific journals down from his bookshelf, organizing them into a pile to lend Atsumu for the weekend.
“This conference will be a good opportunity for you,” Takeda says. “You’ll get to meet some important people in your field, and maybe get some ideas for your thesis, too.”
Atsumu huffs, crossing his arms. “I know. I’m real excited and everything, but does Sakusa really have to come?” He spits the name of his classmate out like it’s poison. It’s dramatic, but he doesn’t care.
Takeda rolls his eyes as he crosses back over to his desk, holding out the journals for Atsumu to take. “Stop being petulant. You’re the top two in your class and you’re both doing your PhDs in marine biology. It’s a great opportunity for both of you, and who knows? Maybe you’ll have to work together in the future. It’s time you get along.”
“But Sensei-”
“It’s only two days. You can stay behind if you want, but I’ll be disappointed in you.” He looks at Atsumu over the rim of his glasses, challenging him to argue.
Atsumu pouts. “I’m not a child.”
“You’re acting like one,” Takeda says with a smirk, waving the journals around in front of Atsumu’s face. “Take these with you and read them on the train so you seem like you know what you’re talking about.”
Atsumu scowls. “I take issue with the use of the word ‘seem.’ I do know what I’m talking about.” He reaches out and takes the journals anyway.
Takeda’s smirk softens into a genuine smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “I know. Good luck this weekend, and try not to kill Sakusa-kun. It would reflect poorly on me as an advisor.”
Atsumu stands with a groan, leveling Takeda with an unimpressed look. “No promises.”
_________________________________________
Checking in at the conference is easy; Atsumu is staying in the same hotel as the main hall, so he’s only an elevator’s ride away from most of the lectures that’ll be given over the course of the next two days. He makes his way over to the reception desk after getting his badge and name tag from the conference center, but when he gets to the receptionist, he’s in for a surprise.
“Whad’ya mean I’m already checked in?” he asks.
“Your other party member has already checked in. He should have both your keycards with him,” the receptionist replies.
Atsumu is confused, to say the least. “I don’t have another party member,” he explains. “It’s just me.”
The receptionist smiles sweetly back at him. “It was Miya-san, right? Miya Atsumu?”
“Yeah.”
“Sakusa-san has already checked in for the both of you. He arrived about thirty minutes ago.”
Atsumu’s jaw drops. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”
The receptionist is visibly alarmed at his language, but Atsumu doesn’t pay her any mind. He whips out his cell phone and scrolls to the contact he swore he’d never use outside of a potential prank call as a last resort.
To: Sakusa Kiyoomi
excuse me since when r we sharing a room
He doesn’t have to wait long for a response.
From: Sakusa Kiyoomi
Since the University wanted to save money. I’m not happy about it either.
To: Sakusa Kiyoomi
and u took my key card???
From: Sakusa Kiyoomi
I’m in the room now, just come get it. 606.
To: Sakusa Kiyoomi
pls tell me there r 2 beds
From: Sakusa Kiyoomi
Do you think I would have allowed this if there weren’t?
Atsumu sighs, then pockets his phone, grabbing his duffel bag from the ground and heading to the elevator with a wave of thanks toward the receptionist on his way.
The hotel is huge, he realizes as he gets into the elevator and hits the button for floor 6. The buttons go all the way to 19.
And he got stuck in a room with his least favorite person on the planet.
Well, that’s exaggerating a bit. Sakusa isn’t all that bad. He’s a jerk who cares too much about being the best and not enough about what other people think of him, but if Atsumu is being honest, that pretty much describes the both of them to the T. He’s well aware of the hypocrisy behind his dislike for his peer, but he also has every right to dislike the guy. They’re both vying for the top seat in the class, after all.
He’s pretty sure Sakusa is here for the same reason he is, too. They both need subjects for their theses. Marine biology is a given, of course, but the actual specific things they’ll be researching are still up in the air. It’s fine, though; they both have time.
The elevator dings as it reaches the sixth floor, and the doors open to a small room with a large mirror on the wall facing Atsumu as he steps out. His dark green button-down goes nicely with his black slacks, making him look sexy and refined all at once. He absentmindedly starts to fix his hair, ignoring the nagging voice in his head that says it’s only Sakusa waiting for him in the room, that he shouldn’t care this much about how he looks. Why wouldn’t he want to look his best, no matter who’s going to see him? He knows he’s hot, so why not always look as hot as he can?
The voice forcefully reminds him that Sakusa’s already seen him in powerpuff girl pajama pants at an 8am lecture more times than he can count, but Atsumu continues to ignore it.
He gets to room 606 fairly quickly, and reaches out for the handle before realizing he’ll have to knock. How fucking humiliating.
He sighs, fighting the urge to run a hand through his perfectly styled hair — for no reason other than it would have been a waste of time if he messes it up now, he swears — and then he knocks.
It takes a second, but the door swings open to reveal Sakusa in a pair of dark grey slacks and a lighter grey dress shirt.
“Jesus, could ya look any more boring?” Atsumu asks as he pushes inside.
He only just catches the way Sakusa rolls his eyes. “Could you look any more like a male peacock during mating season?”
Atsumu smirks. “Sounds like you’re callin’ me attractive.” He throws a wink over his shoulder for good measure.
“That’s conjecture.”
“You’re conjecture.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense,” Sakusa sighs. “How you do so well academically, I’ll never know.”
Atsumu drops his bag on the floor by the unoccupied bed, the one near the window, then turns with a waggle of his eyebrows. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Sakusa pinches the bridge of his nose. “It wasn’t one.”
“Gonna take it as one anyway,” Atsumu sings as he starts to unpack his bag.
Oh, he can’t wait to spend all weekend pushing Sakusa’s buttons. Sure, he’s not thrilled about the sleeping arrangement. He’s not thrilled that Sakusa is here in the first place. However, if there’s one thing that defines Miya Atsumu, it’s the fact that he’ll make the most out of any opportunity he’s given, and the universe just granted him an all-access ticket into the life of the most annoyable person he knows. As if he wouldn’t take it.
“So, Omi-kun,” Atsumu starts.
“Don’t call me that,” Sakusa interjects.
Atsumu smiles. “Omi-Omi, then.”
Sakusa grimaces like he’d just been forced to touch dog shit with his bare hand. Atsumu: 1, Sakusa: 0.
“Whad’ya wanna get for dinner?” Atsumu continues.
Sakusa blinks at him, unfazed. “I already ate.”
Atsumu checks his watch. “It’s six o’clock.”
Sakusa blinks again. “Yes.”
“You’re fuckin' eighty, I swear,” Atsumu mumbles, but he knows Sakusa hears him from the way he scoffs and stomps over to his own bed. Atsumu: 2, Sakusa: 0. “Alright, well gimme my key card and I’ll be outta your hair, then.”
“It’s on the nightstand, next to your dignity,” Sakusa grumbles.
Atsumu chuckles to himself as he grabs the card. “It’s cute when ya try to bite back, Omi. Too bad you're all bark.” Atsumu: 3, Sakus-
“You couldn’t handle my bite.”
Atsumu freezes on his way to the door. He turns slowly towards Sakusa, not knowing what to expect. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
Sakusa looks up through his eyelashes from where he’s sitting on his bed. “Whatever you want it to, Miya,” he says, and then that motherfucker winks.
God damn it. Fuck, shit, bitch, god fucking damn it. Atsumu: 3, Sakusa: 1.
Why was that kind of hot?
Atsumu realizes too late that his jaw is practically on the floor, clamping it shut as soon as he does, but Sakusa looks too smug to have missed it.
“You-” Atsumu starts, but he doesn’t get far. He’s at a loss for words. Since when was Sakusa capable of sass?
“Hm?” Sakusa hums, turning his attention back to the phone in his hands. “Were you going to say something?” Atsumu: 3, Sakusa: 2. God damn it.
Atsumu huffs and leaves the room in lieu of a response. If he stays mad the whole time he’s eating, so what? He has the right. He was caught off guard. He may have lost the battle, but he is not going to lose the war.
_________________________________________
The rest of the night is awkward, to say the least. Atsumu gets back from dinner with a ton of time to spare, so he figures he should take the opportunity to read some of the literature Takeda sent with him, but gets back to the room to find Sakusa already trying to sleep.
“It’s literally eight o’clock, Omi, what the fuck?” he groans.
Sakusa shuffles in his bed to turn away from the light coming through the open door. “We have a lecture at eight tomorrow morning, Miya. I need ten hours of sleep.”
“I take back what I said before,” Atsumu spits as he closes the door. “You’re not eighty, you’re like a fuckin' hundred.”
“And you’re fucking twelve.”
Atsumu snorts, crossing the room and kicking off his slacks as he goes. “Didn’t know ya knew that word.”
Sakusa’s eyes are narrowed as Atsumu enters into his line of sight. “Pick those up off the floor.”
“Or what?” Atsumu asks, distractedly. It’s really fucking hard to unbutton a shirt in near-complete darkness.
“Or I will strangle you in your sleep,” Sakusa growls.
“Good luck, dickhead, I sleep with one eye open,” Atsumu growls back, finally getting his shirt off.
Sakusa shuts his eyes. “Is that why they’re always bloodshot?”
“That’s a lie and you know it,” Atsumu says, grabbing his toiletries and heading into the bathroom
“I know nothing.”
“Well that I can fuckin’ agree with,” Atsumu shouts, then slams the bathroom door. He’s going to count that as a win. Atsumu: 4, Sakusa: 2.
He sighs as he looks at his reflection, checking himself for blemishes or marks he may need to cover up in the morning. He doesn’t hate Sakusa. Not really. There’s just something about him that really gets under Atsumu’s skin — if he is breaking out, it’s at the fault of the man in the next room. Fortunately, his skin is perfect as always, so he figures he’s acclimated to the fuckery that comes along with being near Sakusa by now.
After brushing his teeth and taking a quick shower, he shuts off the light and opens the door, quietly making his way back to his bed so as to not disturb Sakusa in the other. He may be a jerk, but he’s not an asshole.
He climbs into bed and digs through his bag for the journals he packed at the bottom — even if Sakusa is asleep, he’s not going to give up the chance to get ahead. He props his cell phone up behind his shoulder with the flashlight pointed towards his lap and opens the journal to the page he’d folded over on the train.
“You have to be joking, Miya,” Sakusa croaks from where his face is pressed into his pillow.
Atsumu nearly jumps out of his skin. “Fuck, Omi-kun, I thoughtcha were asleep.”
Sakusa groans, curling into himself under the sheets. “It’s been like nine minutes. How the fuck would I have fallen asleep in that time?”
Atsumu looks over at the blanket burrito that used to be Sakusa Kiyoomi and shrugs, even though Sakusa can’t see him.
“Turn the fucking light off, Miya.” At least, that’s what it sounds like Sakusa says. It’s completely muffled by the pillow.
Atsumu snorts. “Ya know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard ya curse this much in one day. Maybe ever. What’s up with that?”
“I’ve never had to spend this much time with you all at once.”
“Well that’s just not true,” Atsumu muses. “Last semester we had almost all of our classes together. I saw ya like eight hours a day.”
“Miya.”
Atsumu slams the journal shut, letting it fall off the edge of the bed and back into the bag. He turns the flashlight off and plugs his phone in, then flops back down onto the bed dramatically and turns toward Sakusa. “Better, your highness?” he asks.
The Sakusa lump visibly relaxes, stretching out slightly. It doesn’t respond.
“Oi. If I can’t read, ya could at least talk to me until I fall asleep,” Atsumu says.
“I would rather die,” Sakusa mumbles.
“Die, then,” Atsumu says, flipping onto his back, then onto his other side. He tries his stomach, too, but can’t get comfortable. “Omi-kun.”
No response.
“Omi-kun.”
Nothing.
“Omi,” he tries for a third time, flipping back onto the side facing Sakusa. He gets his second fright of the night when he finds Sakusa staring right back at him. “Jesus, fuck, Omi, what the hell?”
“Do you ever shut up?” Sakusa asks, but it’s not as sharp as his tongue usually is. It’s more mellow, like sleepiness is softening his tone.
Atsumu looks at him, not breaking eye contact. “No,” he answers, and he thinks he sounds a little softer than usual, too.
Sakusa blinks. “Alright,” he says.
They just lay there for a while, and Atsumu is all too aware of the sound of his own breathing. He tries to even it out, but it doesn’t come easily. He’s way too in his head.
“Tell me about yourself, maybe,” he suggests quietly so as to not break the tension in the room.
Sakusa’s nose scrunches up in distaste. “I’d rather not.”
Atsumu shrugs. “A story, then.”
“I don’t know any stories.”
“Fuckin’ help me out here, Omi, jeez,” Atsumu mumbles, shoving an arm under his pillow.
“No offense, Miya, but I’m not used to having to tell a grown man a bedtime story so he can fall asleep,” Sakusa says, but his words still lack the venom that’s usually present. If Atsumu wasn’t getting tired, he’d almost think they were fond.
He sighs. “Alright, forget it, I’ll just lay here and suffer.”
“Oh my god,” Sakusa groans. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know,” Atsumu replies, closing his eyes. “What gotcha into marine biology?”
“Dolphins,” Sakusa responds almost immediately. “They’re really smart, as you know. I wanted to research something related to language. See if I could figure out what they were saying.”
Atsumu hums. “What changed?”
Sakusa shifts, the sheets ruffling just audibly enough for Atsumu to notice. “Found out they’re kind of… horrible. Like, dolphins are dicks, you know?”
“Kinda like us,” Atsumu says, and Sakusa snorts quietly in the other bed. Atsumu’s eyes shoot open. “Did I just make ya laugh?”
“No,” Sakusa lies.
“I totally did!” Atsumu exclaims, sitting up in bed.
Sakusa is pressing his lips together, forcing a scowl, presumably so Atsumu can’t tell that he was smiling. “You didn’t.”
“Liar,” Atsumu says, grinning widely before flopping back down onto his pillow. “I totally made ya laugh.”
“Go to sleep, Miya.”
“Yeah. Night, Omi.”
Atsumu: 5, Sakusa: 2.
_________________________________________
Sakusa is gone by the time Atsumu wakes up the next morning. He takes the opportunity to take a long shower, basking in the steam from the water, hot enough to turn his skin a little bit red. He towel-dries his hair then blow-dries it, styling it as he goes before finally putting in his hair product and moisturizing his face. His beauty routine isn’t the most elaborate, but he knows it takes a while, so he’s not surprised when he looks at the time and finds that it’s already five minutes into the first lecture.
No problem. He wasn’t that interested in it, anyway; the guy’s presentation is about kelp, if he remembers correctly, and Atsumu is more of a mammal guy.
He figures he has time for a coffee before this lecture is over, so he goes down to the lobby and makes himself a cup from the breakfast that’s included in their stay. If he’d been at a fancy coffee place, he’d have gotten some caramel monstrosity with double the espresso shots, but there’s something about a shitty, styrofoam cup of black hotel coffee that really hits the spot.
Atsumu sips his coffee while looking around the lobby to scope out the other conference-goers. He nearly spits it out when he sees who’s standing by the rice: his ex boyfriend from the neighboring university. He looks terrible, too. He’s wearing an ill-fitting light blue button-down and a pair of khakis. The color palette is atrocious, honestly, and Atsumu grimaces with the knowledge that he’d ever dated the guy.
He books it towards the conference center, hoping against all odds that Shinji hadn’t seen him. He thinks he might be in the clear, too, until he swings open the door and almost goes barrelling into one Sakusa Kiyoomi.
“Miya, what are you doing?” Sakusa hisses, reaching out to steady Atsumu’s hand so he doesn’t spill coffee over them both.
Atsumu starts to respond, but someone nearby shushes them, so he just shakes his head and mimes zipping his lips. The door creaks open behind him, and he only needs to see the cuff of a light blue sleeve in the opening before he’s slipping through the crowd with practiced ease. Sakusa glares after him, but doesn’t follow, only glancing curiously at Shinji before turning his attention back to the lecturer.
Shinji looks around, but Atsumu seems to have gotten away. He relaxes, bringing a shaking hand up to his lips to take another sip of coffee. He’ll need it if he’s going to be playing ex-boyfriend tag all day.
The lecture only lasts a few more minutes, but Atsumu doesn’t pay attention to a single word. He’s more focused on Shinji’s Instagram account, searching desperately for something that would point to what he’s researching these days. Last Atsumu heard, Shinji had been specializing in herpetology with an interest in desert iguanas, and unless he’d misunderstood everything from every class he’d ever taken, there’s no reason for someone studying desert iguanas to be at a marine biology convention.
He finds nothing of interest, however, and blocks the guy again, feeling no better about the situation than he had before. There’s no way Shinji would have come to this thing just to find Atsumu, right? He was never that unhinged.
Except he kind of was. Their breakup had been a bad one, the product of Atsumu not having the ability to dedicate enough time to both academia and a relationship he wasn’t all that thrilled about in the first place. Shinji had taken it personally, following Atsumu home multiple times in an attempt to ‘talk it through,’ even when Atsumu had been very clear that he wanted to end things.
It sucked, and Atsumu had hoped he’d never see that asshole again, but here he is at a convention he definitely doesn’t belong at unless he’d had a complete overhaul of his academic career in the last eleven months.
Unlikely.
Atsumu looks up as the people around him start filing toward the exit, and he realizes the lecture is over. He never did find out if it was about kelp. Maybe he can ask Sakusa later.
Speaking of the devil, Atsumu sees Sakusa hanging around by the literature table, reading something that’s probably related to one of the lectures being given today. It’d be a good idea to read up on the subjects ahead of time, so Atsumu meanders over to the table himself.
“Omi-kun,” he purrs, coming up behind him and leaning over his shoulder. “Whatcha readin’?”
“Why are you always around?” Sakusa asks instead of answering the question.
Atsumu grins. “That makes it sound like you're sick of me, which I know is fake news.”
“Oh? And what gave you that idea?”
“Ya wouldn’t be nearly as motivated without me around,” Atsumu explains. “Having competition really kicks ya in the ass, ya know? Makes ya wanna be better.”
Sakusa hums, seemingly caught off guard by the genuine answer.
Atsumu grins wider. “And I’m nice to look at, of course.”
Sakusa scoffs, smacking Atsumu in the side of the head with the pamphlet in his hand.
Atsumu squawks and pulls back, ready to scold Sakusa for resorting to violence, when he sees a pair of khakis and a blue shirt walking toward them.
“Fuck,” he whispers, the playfulness in his voice suddenly gone.
Sakusa must pick up on it, because when Atsumu reflexively grabs him by the wrist, he doesn’t pull away.
“Atsumu,” Shinji says, his voice tight. “Long time no see.”
“Yeah,” Atsumu grits out, squeezing Sakusa’s wrist even tighter. Sakusa still doesn’t react.
Instead, he plasters on the most terrifying smile Atsumu has ever seen, and asks, “Who are you?”
“A friend of Atsumu’s,” Shinji responds, not even sparing him a glance.
Sakusa’s smile only gets scarier, his head cocking slightly to the left. “I don’t think you are,” he says, and there’s more malice in his voice than Atsumu has ever heard before.
If you had asked him ten minutes ago who his favorite person on earth was, he probably would have said his mom. Maybe Kita. But, right now, it’s Sakusa. It’s Sakusa Kiyoomi, and Atsumu has never been more grateful to have someone by his side than he is right now.
“He’s my ex,” Atsumu says through clenched teeth, and Sakusa inhales audibly through his nose. He’d known Atsumu during their breakup. He knows how bad it was.
“I think you should leave,” Sakusa spits, and Shinji finally looks away from Atsumu and at the man he’s holding onto for dear life.
“And who the fuck are you?” Shinji asks.
Atsumu is about to interject and call Sakusa his classmate when Sakusa answers for him: “I’m his boyfriend,” he says, and then Sakusa slips his wrist out of Atsumu’s hand and threads their fingers together instead.
Hold on, Atsumu thinks, what?
He’s at a loss for words for the second time in as many days, and can’t bring himself to do anything but stare at Sakusa with his mouth wide open in shock. He must have misheard, because there’s no way in hell that Sakusa Kiyoomi just called himself Atsumu’s boyfriend. Atsumu is pretty sure Sakusa would rather literally jump off the roof of the hotel than let those words escape his lips.
Sakusa can probably sense Atsumu’s confusion, because he squeezes the hand that’s holding his own and turns to look him in the eye. It only sends Atsumu spiraling even further.
“You want to go?” Sakusa asks, and it sounds concerned. Atsumu has never heard this man sound concerned in his goddamn life, and that’s when it hits him: Sakusa is pitying him, and it feels fucking terrible.
“Yeah,” Atsumu growls, and Sakusa’s eyebrows stitch together.
“Okay,” he says, and then turns to Shinji. “Don’t talk to him again. Or me, for that matter.”
And then he’s pulling Atsumu away and out the door.
As soon as they get into the lobby, Atsumu yanks his hand out from Sakusa’s grip and storms off in a random direction. He knows he’s being childish, but at least he’s consistent.
“Miya,” Sakusa calls after him, but he doesn’t turn around.
He bursts through the revolving door of the hotel and onto the sidewalk, looking around to figure out where he can go to escape. It’s a mistake, though, because Sakusa comes out about half a second later.
Atsumu takes off down the street, ignoring another two iterations of his name before he hears Sakusa come after him.
“Oi, Miya, how about a fucking thank you,” he yells, and that gets Atsumu’s attention.
He turns on his heel, seething, and tries with all his might to explode Sakusa with his mind. It doesn’t work. “Thank you?” he repeats, resorting to verbal warfare instead. “Fucking thank you? Yeah, thanks, Omi-kun, ya really made me feel fuckin’ worthless back there.”
“What?” Sakusa asks, and he seems genuinely confused.
“I don’t need your fuckin’ pity,” Atsumu continues, his eyes narrowing and his hands bunched up into fists at his sides. “I can handle this myself.”
Sakusa crosses his arms and shifts his weight onto one leg. Atsumu doesn’t think about how it makes his hip stick out and accentuates his waist. “You think I was pitying you?” he asks.
Atsumu blinks. “Well, yeah. Why else wouldja say that shit ya said?”
“I don’t know, Miya, it’s the first thing I thought of that would make him leave you alone,” Sakusa says, rolling his eyes. “I remember how poorly he treated you. Not even you deserve that.”
“This still feels like pity,” Atsumu says warily. He doesn’t trust it. Sakusa isn’t nice.
Sakusa sighs, then takes a tentative step closer. “It’s not pity, Miya. I don’t think I’m capable of that.”
Well… that’s true. Sakusa is pretty good about saying exactly what he thinks.
“I’m gonna be honest,” Atsumu says, though he’s starting to let his guard down, “I didn’t think ya were capable of human emotion, either.”
“Very funny,” Sakusa drones, but he’s fighting a smile.
Atsumu huffs, then relaxes his shoulders, bringing his arms up and crossing them in front of his chest, effectively mimicking Sakusa’s stance. “Well, Omi-kun, ya really got us into a predicament here.”
“What do you mean?” Sakusa asks.
“Well,” Atsumu says, and he can’t help the maniacal grin that starts to spread across his face, “ya told Shinji we were datin’ when we’re not, so now we’ve gotta keep up appearances.”
Sakusa frowns. “You mean just spend time together?”
Atsumu laughs, throwing his head back. He’s going to enjoy this. “Nah, Omi, I’m a clingy boyfriend. Shinji’s gotta remember that. He’ll know somethin’ is up if I’m not hangin’ off your arm all weekend.”
“Fuck,” Sakusa says, and he goes pale. “Fuck.”
“You just got yourself a leech, Omi-kun,” Atsumu giggles.
“Fuck,” Sakusa says again, closing his eyes and tipping his head back to take a deep breath. He takes a second, but then he finally looks back at Atsumu and nods. “Alright. Damn it, alright. I’ll do it.”
Atsumu smirks. “Don’t make it sound like I just gave ya a death sentence.”
Sakusa winces, but he reaches for Atsumu’s hand anyway. “Come on. There’s another lecture in five minutes.”
Atsumu grabs his hand gleefully, swinging their arms between them as they walk back to the hotel. “Was that last guy really just talkin’ about kelp for forty minutes?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Sakusa says with a groan. “It was so boring I thought I was going to fall asleep standing up.”
Atsumu chuckles. “What are ya lookin’ forward to?”
Sakusa hums, thinking. “There’s a presentation about whale communication tomorrow. That could be cool.”
“Oh yeah, ya said that’s what gotcha into bio, right? Dolphins talkin’ to each other?”
“Yeah,” Sakusa says as he squeezes Atsumu’s hand. “You remembered.”
Atsumu squeezes back. “Y’only told me last night, dumbass.”
“Fuck off,” Sakusa says, speeding up, and Atsumu chuckles again as he matches his pace.
He thinks he likes this side of Sakusa that says ‘fuck’ and talks to him until they fall asleep. He likes this side of Sakusa that sticks up for him and holds his hand. He might like him a little more than he’s prepared to, actually; it’s a dangerous thing to realize, but Atsumu isn’t one to shy away from the truth. He’s a scientist, and the evidence is right there in front of him, pumping through his veins. He’d be willing to bet his oxytocin levels are abnormally high right now.
It doesn’t piss him off as much as it should.
_________________________________________
The longer he spends doing it, the more Atsumu starts to think he never wants to stop holding Sakusa’s hand.
They see Shinji a few times throughout the day, each time stepping a bit closer together or touching in some way, but he does seem to be leaving them alone for the most part, even through the sponsored buffet at the end of the day.
“How fucked up is that?” Atsumu grumbles as they watch his ex-boyfriend slump over and turn to walk away for the fifth time. “He’s only givin' me space because you’re around.”
“Are you saying I’m intimidating?” Sakusa asks, his tone light.
Atsumu pokes at his arm, smiling back. “Well, yeah, but that’s not what I meant. I just think it’s whack that he only backs off when there’s someone else in my life. Like he doesn’t respect me enough to leave me alone unless I’m taken.”
Sakusa purses his lips and nods. “He’s possessive and cruel, Miya. He doesn’t respect you. Excuse me if I’m overstepping, but I don’t think he ever did.”
He’s right. It still hurts. “He told me once that I don’t have enough self respect, that it shows other people they don’t have to respect me, either,” he admits.
“That’s bullshit,” Sakusa says bluntly, and he sounds like he means it.
“Careful, Omi, that was almost a compliment.”
Sakusa scoffs, but he squeezes Atsumu’s hand, too.
“This is why you're intimidatin’,” Atsumu says, selecting a meat bun from the buffet in front of them and shoving half of it in his mouth. “You're like a porcupine. Or a sea urchin.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Sakusa says with a scowl, pulling his hand out of Atsumu’s to reach for the tongs on the platter of fruit. “You may be callous, but you have loads of self respect. More than almost anyone I know.”
Atsumu stops chewing, surprised by how kind Sakusa is being. His mind immediately tries to tell him that it’s out of pity again, but he knows that’s objectively incorrect. Sakusa has never minced words when he’s berating a classmate for slacking off, and Atsumu is starting to learn that he’s just as genuine when he’s giving positive feedback, too.
“Ya really mean that?” Atsumu asks, a bit stunned.
“Of course I do,” Sakusa says, inspecting a bunch of grapes. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
He doesn’t, does he?
Atsumu smiles, then reaches out and squeezes Sakusa’s arm as an acknowledgement, like a thank you. “Okay,” he says, and Sakusa’s mouth twitches at the corner like he wants to smile, too.
They eat in relative silence — relative meaning Atsumu talks when he doesn’t have food in his mouth and Sakusa may or may not be paying any attention — but when Atsumu finishes his meal, he waits for Sakusa, and Sakusa doesn’t comment on it. Maybe it’s because Shinji is probably in the room and he would be suspicious if one left without the other, but Atsumu is secretly hopeful that he’s breaking down the other man’s walls, if only a little bit at a time.
Sakusa is a slow eater, he realizes, or maybe Atsumu is just really fast. Growing up with a twin prone to stealing food off your plate will do that to a person. Regardless, Atsumu finds himself content to watch Sakusa pick apart his onigiri to get to the umeboshi inside.
“My brother’d have a fit if he saw ya doin’ that,” he says.
Sakusa glances up at him. “You have a brother?”
“A twin,” Atsumu confirms. “Surprised ya don’t know that already.”
“We don’t really talk much,” Sakusa points out as he takes another bite.
Atsumu frowns. “We talk all the time, Omi-kun, whad’ya mean?”
Sakusa chews for a moment and swallows, ever cognizant of his manners. “Only about school, and only long enough to insult each other,” he says.
Atsumu hums. He’s not wrong; most of their conversations are just Atsumu trying to get a rise out of Sakusa and Sakusa completely ignoring him. He’s secretly glad that’s changing, on some level, and it occurs to him that the Atsumu of two days ago — or yesterday, even — would have gagged at the thought. It’s crazy how much can change in so short a time.
“So,” Sakusa continues, breaking Atsumu out of his train of thought, “your brother wouldn’t approve of my eating habits?”
Atsumu snorts. “Nah, he’s in culinary school. He’s tryna become a chef or some shit. He’d be on your ass in a second for not eatin' food the way it wants to be eaten.”
“The way it wants to be eaten…?” Sakusa parrots, clearly lost.
“Yeah,” Atsumu says with a fond shake of his head, “he doesn’t seem to get that food ain’t sentient.”
Sakusa makes a face at that that looks like he just bit straight into a lemon, rind and all. “How the fuck are you the smarter twin?”
Atsumu barks out a laugh, a feeling of giddiness bubbling up inside of him that isn’t unfamiliar but has definitely never been associated with Sakusa before. There’s a new edge to their banter, it seems, and it’s about as sharp as a silk handkerchief in comparison to their usual back and forth.
He grins, elbowing Sakusa in the arm. “Ya flatter me, Omi, but ‘Samu’s pretty smart in his own way.”
Sakusa’s mouth does that twitching thing again, and Atsumu’s chest swells with pride. He vows then and there to get one genuine smile out of Sakusa by the end of the weekend if it’s the last thing he ever does. It may be impossible, but that only makes him want it more.
_________________________________________
“D’ya wanna shower first?” Atsumu asks as they enter the hotel room thirty minutes later. He knows Sakusa is a bit of a clean freak, so he figures it might be nice to offer.
“Yeah,” Sakusa answers, his tone laced with surprise. “Thanks.”
Atsumu shrugs, flopping into the chair in the corner of the room with one of the journals Takeda had leant him. “No worries. Figured ya’d rather not have all my skin cells in there while you're doin’ your thing.”
He flips through the pages, looking for a topic that interests him, but he looks up when a few minutes go by and he doesn’t hear the water running. Sakusa is just standing in the doorway to the bathroom, brows furrowed, looking in Atsumu’s general direction.
“Omi-kun?” Atsumu asks, waving his hand around to get his attention.
Sakusa’s gaze focuses on Atsumu and he startles, like he hadn’t realized he’d been standing there. “Sorry,” he mumbles, and then he walks into the bathroom and shuts the door.
Atsumu frowns, wondering what that was all about, but figures Sakusa had just been distracted and goes back to his reading. There’s nothing in this journal that’s particularly up his alley — lots of interesting hypotheses, but nothing that screams Atsumu . He huffs, tossing the journal onto his bed and slumping down in the chair. He knows it’s early, but he really needs a thesis topic before next semester if he doesn’t want to do an extra year. He just doesn’t know what direction to take it.
He knows he wants to work with mammals; at least, he wants to do something related to them. Fish are cool and all, but he’s more interested in how creatures with so much DNA in common with humans live such different lives. Evolution in general has always been of huge interest to him, but mammals going back to being aquatic after evolving on land is just bonkers as far as he’s concerned.
Maybe something to do with whales.
His thoughts go back to his conversation with Sakusa from earlier that day — maybe he should study dolphins if they’re really as jerky as Sakusa made them out to be. They might get along.
He tips his head back against the back of the chair, thinking. Conservation could be cool. He’d had a professor in undergrad who had taught the whole course from the lens of human impact and climate change on deep sea ecosystems, and he’d always meant to follow up on that in terms of the effects on marine mammals. It would give him an excuse to get back in touch with that professor, too.
As he starts to wonder whether there are any lectures on conservation the following day, he hears the water turn off in the bathroom. He sighs, getting up from the chair and resigning himself to figuring this out later, when the door to the bathroom swings open and a very-naked Sakusa comes storming out with nothing but a hand towel held in front of his… bits.
Atsumu stands frozen still, unable to take his eyes off the abs that Sakusa has apparently been hiding for their entire undergrad and the first half of their postgrad, too.
“...ange out our towels,” Sakusa says, pulling a clean pair of briefs from his bag and stepping into them. Atsumu totally missed everything he said.
“Hah?”
Sakusa rolls his eyes as he stalks over to the phone on the bedside table. “They forgot to change our towels. I had to dry myself with a hand towel, for fuck’s sake.”
“You…” Atsumu starts, perplexed and still very much distracted. “Why do you need a new towel?”
“Because I used mine already?” Sakusa answers, as if Atsumu should have known the answer. He dials the number for the front desk. “Don’t tell me you reuse your towels.”
Atsumu doesn’t quite know what’s happening here. A very hot (??) Sakusa Kiyoomi (????) is standing in his underwear (?????????) insinuating that one shouldn’t use a towel on their body more than once even though-
“Y'only use ‘em when you're clean,” Atsumu says, but it comes out more like a question than a statement.
Sakusa scoffs. “There’s no such thing as clean. You should know that.”
“Well, yeah, but-”
Sakusa holds up a finger and starts talking into the receiver. “Hello I’d like to request clean towels to room 606, please.” He pauses. “Yes, four. Thank you.”
Atsumu steps forward. “Omi, do ya really not-”
Sakusa cuts him off with a groan. “Yes, alright, I change my towel after every use. I know it’s unusual, but I’ve done it my whole life, and I’m not about to change that just because you think it’s ridiculous-”
“D’ya know how bad that is for the environment? Washin' your towels after every use-”
“I have a washing machine with an eco mode-”
“That’s a marketing tactic, oh my god-”
“-I know it’s not perfect, but it still uses less water than the average-”
“-and besides, ya have a responsibility as a scientist to-”
“-and individual responsibility is a fraction as important as corporate-”
“-true, but that doesn’t mean ya shouldn’t-”
They’re interrupted by a knock on the door.
Sakusa huffs and pulls on a pair of sweatpants, then goes to grab the towels from the hotel employee in the hallway. Atsumu stands dumbstruck in the corner while he watches Sakusa carry the towels into the bathroom and then come back out with his hands on his hips.
“Look, Miya,” he says. “I’m a vegetarian and have been for eleven years. I don’t own a car, I take seven and a half minute showers, and I don’t use disposable anything if I can help it. So yes, I do a lot of laundry. Sue me.”
“You're a vegetarian?” Atsumu asks quietly.
Sakusa purses his lips. “That’s all you got from that?”
Atsumu shrugs. “I didn’t know.”
They both stand there for a bit, Atsumu breathing heavily and Sakusa looking like he’s never broken a sweat in his life, before Sakusa speaks again.
“You should shower, Miya. I want to go to sleep.”
Atsumu blinks. “Hey.”
“What?”
“You should call me Atsumu. Y’know, now that we’re datin’ or whatever.”
He doesn’t really know why he says it. He knows Sakusa won’t agree. He’s looking at Atsumu like he’s grown another head and Atsumu is about to laugh it off as a joke when Sakusa says, “Okay.”
“Hah?” Atsumu asks for the second time that night.
Sakusa huffs again, crossing his arms. “I can’t think of a good enough reason not to. I was going to say we don’t know each other well enough, but you officially know me better than anyone save for my cousin and my ex, so that’s moot. It would also be beneficial to our story for Shinji to overhear me calling you by your given name, so…”
He trails off, and it occurs to Atsumu that no one has ever struck him incapable of speech so many times in a single day. It’s a world record, he thinks. He should call Guinness.
“Didja just say I know ya better than the whole world save for two people?” is what eventually comes out of his mouth.
“Yes.”
Atsumu throws his hands up in the air. “I barely know anythin’ aboutcha!”
“You know a significant amount about my interests,” Sakusa says. “You’ve met my mother. You know my strengths and, more importantly, my weaknesses, both academically and personally, as you love to point out. And now you know one of my biggest insecurities. That’s quite a lot, for my standards.”
“Oh my god,” Atsumu breathes. “I’m your best friend.”
Sakusa scowls. “You are not my best friend. Motoya is.”
Atsumu can feel his eyes go wild. “Your cousin?”
Sakusa sighs and turns around, pulling the covers back off his bed and slipping in under them. He moves to turn off the lamp on his side of the room, but turns back to Atsumu briefly.
“I’m giving you ten minutes before I turn all the lights out and you have to get dressed in the dark,” he says, and then he flips the switch.
Atsumu grumbles to himself as he grabs a clean pair of boxers and heads into the bathroom, flipping the light switch on and closing the door. His shower is even hotter than usual — he’s trying to relax, okay? — and when he steps out, it’s into a cloud. The bathroom is so filled with steam that he can barely make out the shape of his reflection in the mirror, let alone any details.
He figures it’ll be fine to forgo blow drying his hair if he wakes up early enough to style it tomorrow, so he towel dries it, brushes his teeth, and moisturizes before going back into the room. Sakusa seems like he’s asleep, but Atsumu isn’t so sure based on the way the previous night went. He’s careful not to make too much noise while he gets into bed anyway. He pulls out his phone, making sure his brightness is turned all the way down, and opens a new tab to read up on climate change’s effects on dolphin populations on a whim. He glances over at Sakusa to make sure he isn’t disturbing him, but the other man still seems sound asleep.
“Night, Omi,” Atsumu says under his breath, more to himself than anything else.
Sakusa shifts, though, and a quiet “Goodnight, Atsumu” comes floating over from the other bed.
Atsumu smiles to himself. Something he hadn’t been aware of loosens in his chest, letting him breathe a little easier and relax a little more. His name sounds good on Sakusa’s tongue, even if it came out hesitant and scratchy with sleep. Pretty much everyone calls him Atsumu except for faculty, so it shouldn’t feel special to hear it coming from Sakusa, too, but it does. It feels like winning, somehow. He wants to chase that feeling.
_________________________________________
“Omi-Omi,” Atsumu sings as he sits down at the little table outside a nearby cafe. It’s cute, but metropolitan, with higher prices than they need to be charging and lower quality products than one would expect.
Atsumu and Sakusa had decided to skip the buffet in favor of some food that four hundred people hadn’t already breathed on — Sakusa’s words — and have since found themselves with coffee and pastries that only two or three probably had.
“What, Miy- Atsumu?”
“Miyatsumu,” Atsumu repeats, leveling Sakusa with an unimpressed look. “Good one.”
Sakusa rolls his eyes. “I’m still getting used to it.”
Atsumu hums as he swirls his coffee around in the cup, resting his chin in his hand with his elbow on the table. He’s content to people-watch while Sakusa does whatever he’s doing on his phone.
There’s a man with a choppy bowl cut and a maroon hoodie trailing after a man that looks like a brick house, both with matching scowls on their faces, and Atsumu smiles to himself as he pictures a chihuahua on the heels of a rottweiler instead. He hears a booming laugh from down the street and turns to see a huge man with black and silver hair doubled over with a hand on his stomach. His partner? Maybe? Is standing next to him with a small, fond smile on his face. He looks pleased with himself, and adjusts his glasses on his face to hide the redness of his cheeks. Their dynamic — at least from what Atsumu can see — reminds him a bit of himself and Sakusa in their best moments: one loud and attention-grabbing, the other more reserved.
He turns back to Sakusa only to find the other man already looking at him. Atsumu raises an eyebrow in silent question.
“Your hair looks… different today,” Sakusa says. “More floppy.”
Atsumu snorts, his chin still in his hand, and it shakes his whole upper body. “I didn’t blow dry it last night like I normally do.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t wanna keep y’awake,” he admits.
Sakusa’s eyebrows twitch together briefly, his eyes widening slightly and his lips parting. He’s surprised. “Really?” he asks, and he sounds vulnerable.
“‘Course,” Atsumu says quietly. “I’m not that big of a dick.”
There’s a moment that passes between them that feels to Atsumu like the wax in a lava lamp moving slowly through the liquid around it. They float slowly through time for the next several seconds, suspended in whatever substance is holding them apart, and then, Sakusa moves.
His arm comes up in what seems like slow motion, his fingers reaching for Atsumu, and Atsumu lets it happen. He blinks, waiting for the contact, and when it comes, it’s warm and tingly like citrus sour candy. Sakusa pushes the hair off his forehead and back out of his face gently, as if he’s handling a bird with a broken wing. Atsumu reminds himself to breathe normally through his nose. Don’t make this weird. Don’t make this weird. Don’t make this weird.
Sakusa leaves his hand in Atsumu’s hair for just a moment too long, too, and it makes Atsumu’s vision go a little bit blurry, makes his heart beat a little too fast.
“It looks better the other way,” he says, and then he looks back at his phone.
And there goes the moment. Atsumu: 5, Sakusa: 3, maybe. Something like that. He realizes that, at some point the day before, he’d stopped keeping count. He huffs, picking up his chin and running a hand through his hair again, checking himself out in the window of the cafe.
“Well if sleepin’ beauty here didn’t need his ten hours, some of us wouldn’t look like a wet rat today,” he says.
“I appreciate the sacrifice,” Sakusa responds, “but you look worse than a wet rat.”
Atsumu guffaws, whipping his head around to glare at Sakusa. “You're the one fake datin’ this hot piece of garbage.” He’s exaggerating — he still looks good, just a little less put together — but he’s after a reaction.
Sakusa doesn’t give him the one he expects.
Instead of rolling his eyes and saying something scathing, or even ignoring him altogether, Sakusa furrows his eyebrows, briefly glancing up from his phone before doing that mouth-twitch thing again. “Yeah.”
Atsumu sits up straighter, caught off guard. “Are y’okay?”
“Huh?” Sakusa asks, looking up for longer this time. “Yeah, just distracted.”
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Atsumu asks, leaning forward.
“The schedule for today,” Sakusa says, holding his phone out for Atsumu to see. “I really want to see the lecture on communication in different whale communities, and there’s one later about the effects of climate change on ice cover and seal populations if you’d like to check that out.”
Atsumu’s lips part in surprise. “How did…” he trails off, leaving them in an awkward silence.
Sakusa blinks. “How did what?”
“How didja,” Atsumu tries again, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “How didja know I’d be interested in that?”
Sakusa blinks again, a hint of an amused smile playing on his lips. “How did I know you’d be interested in a lecture about climate change and marine mammals? After you’ve been writing papers about that exact topic for the last five years and counting?”
Atsumu is floored. “I didn’t know y’were payin’ attention.”
“At first it was just to get a sense of who I was up against grade-wise,” Sakusa explains, and then he ducks his head. “But you’re a talented writer. After a while, I was just… interested in what you had to say.”
“You're wild,” Atsumu says before his brain can catch up with his mouth. “Why didn’t I know that?”
Sakusa raises his head again, an eyebrow raised like he’s asking are you kidding? with his facial features. “You think I would want to fuel that continent of an ego you have?”
And Atsumu can’t argue with that. He knows he’s cocky, and he knows it bugs Sakusa to no end, mostly because it’s justified. He can put his money — or, his grades at least — where his mouth is. “Then why are ya tellin’ me now?” he asks.
Sakusa shrugs. “Lapse in judgment,” he responds, and his mouth twitches again. Atsumu wants so badly to turn that twitch into a smile.
He leans back in his chair, and for the nth time in the last thirty-six hours, a quiet moment passes between them that Atsumu can’t quite explain. They’ve never been like this: able to just sit quietly and comfortably without an exam in front of them to busy their minds. It’s kind of nice, if not a little disconcerting.
“Well,” he says quietly, carefully breaking the silence, “shall we?”
Sakusa nods, knocking back the dregs of his coffee and tossing it into the wastebasket nearby. He stands and starts walking, and Atsumu has to jog a bit to catch up. He’s almost afraid he’d ruined whatever they had building by suggesting they leave, but after a second, Sakusa’s knuckles brush his own. He looks down between them just as Sakusa links their pinkies together.
“Omi…?”
“In case Shinji is around when we get to the hotel,” Sakusa says quickly, like he was waiting for Atsumu to ask, but when Atsumu looks up again, Sakusa is looking straight ahead, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Okay,” Atsumu replies easily, threading the rest of their fingers together until they’re properly holding hands. “Thanks.”
Shinji isn’t there when they go in, but Sakusa doesn’t let go.
_________________________________________
The lecture on whale songs is at eleven, and Sakusa makes sure they get there at ten forty-five so he can be front and center. There’s no question as to whether Atsumu will come with him, nor as to whether Sakusa will attend the climate change one later on. Yes, it’s because they have to be seen together all day, but Atsumu suspects that there may be another reason.
“This place is gettin’ kinda packed,” Atsumu observes, looking around.
“Nekomata-sensei is very well-known,” Sakusa says. “I think a lot of people will want to hear him speak.”
Atsumu nods, impressed.
“Excuse me,” a woman says as she pushes past the two of them, forcing Sakusa to take a step out of the way. His back hits Atsumu’s chest, and as soon as the woman squeezes by, Atsumu expects Sakusa to step back into his own space, but he doesn’t. He stays where he is, despite the very obvious physical contact between them. Atsumu looks around, but Shinji is nowhere to be seen.
He almost says something about it, just in case Sakusa hadn’t noticed, somehow, but something in his heart tells him not to. Something in his heart tells him to enjoy this, to hold onto it.
So, instead, he leans forward and slowly hooks his chin over Sakusa’s shoulder, giving the other man ample time to pull away or tell him to stop. He doesn’t. Instead, one of Sakusa’s hands comes up to scratch at Atsumu’s scalp, running his fingers through his hair in the process. Atsumu hums and closes his eyes, and he feels Sakusa chuckle against him.
“You’re like a cat,” Sakusa says.
“I just like physical contact,” Atsumu mumbles. “I toldja I was clingy.”
Sakusa hums, but Nekomata-sensei chooses that moment to walk up to the podium to begin his talk. He’s well-spoken and cheerful, all around someone Atsumu thinks he’d like to know. Sakusa is enthralled for the whole thing, of course. He takes notes in a little notebook and hangs off of every word Nekomata says. At one point, Atsumu stands back up, taking his chin off of Sakusa’s shoulder to give him more mobility for writing, but Sakusa leans right back into him, effectively maintaining physical contact between them for the duration of the lecture. Atsumu’s heart does a little flip in his chest, and he’s sure Sakusa can feel it, but he finds that he doesn’t really care. Let him feel it. Let him know.
They spend the whole day in some sort of contact with each other; now that Atsumu has gotten the go-ahead to be touchy, he never lets go. They walk through the conference center hand-in-hand, steal food off of each other’s plates at lunch, and never leave each other’s sides. If Atsumu didn’t know better, he’d think they were really dating. That’s kind of the point, though. They’ve gotta sell it.
So, he latches on even tighter. He wipes nonexistent crumbs off of Sakusa’s cheek with his thumb. He leans into the other man and wraps his arms around his waist whenever they’re just standing around. When they get to the climate change lecture, he drapes Sakusa’s arm over his shoulders and hums happily, letting his eyes droop shut until the person giving the talk comes out. He hears Sakusa sigh quietly in his ear, and he cracks an eye open to steal a glance at Sakusa without him knowing. It’s at that point that he sees the genuine smile he’s been after.
Sakusa is standing there, one arm around Atsumu and the other hanging loosely at his other side. His eyes are crinkled and kind, staring straight ahead but unseeing, lost in his own little world. His lips are pulled into a small smile — small, but there — no teeth showing, no dimple, but present all the same.
Atsumu’s heart doesn’t flip, this time; it glows.
He feels warmth coursing through his veins, and he knows he needs to see that smile a thousand more times. He needs it in his life like he needs shelter and sustenance. He’s never giving it up if he has anything to say about it.
“Omi,” he whispers, and Sakusa startles, his arm falling off Atsumu’s shoulders and down around his upper back. “Ya see that couple over there?”
Sakusa follows his eyeline to the couple he’s talking about and nods.
“We’re hotter than they are, right?” Atsumu asks with a sly grin.
Sakusa snorts. “Sure, Atsumu. Whatever you say.”
Atsumu gasps. “I’m right though, aren’t I? Honestly, I’d say we’re the hottest people here.”
“It’s not like we have a lot of competition. We’re probably the only two bringing the average age of the room below sixty,” Sakusa says, and Atsumu cackles.
“You're right. We’re arm candy compared to these geezers.”
“Someone is going to hear you if you keep running your mouth like that,” Sakusa chides.
Atsumu grins, shooting him a wink. “Ya like it.”
And there’s that smile again; it’s peeking through a scowl, but Atsumu knows it well enough by now to see it when it’s there.
_________________________________________
They get back to the room around nine, having spent their last night in the city at a fancy restaurant with things like caviar and New York cheesecake. It had been way out of the price range of what the university had offered them as a per diem, but they figured it was worth a splurge. How often do they get to do things like this, anyway?
Sakusa toes his shoes off at the doorway, making his way straight to the bathroom to wash the day off of his skin.
Atsumu drops into the same chair as the night before, an email pulled up on his phone addressed to Takeda with the subject ‘Thesis Topic.’
Hi Takeda-sensei, he types, I’ve decided on a thesis topic. Sakusa-kun and I saw a lecture today about the effects of climate change on seal populations due to the disappearance of ice cover in their habitat; I’d like to contribute to this research if possible. Let me know if this sounds good to you and I’ll get started on a proposal. Thank you for this opportunity; see you tomorrow.
Miya Atsumu
He smiles as he presses send, happy with his choice. He really wants to do something good in the world.
That done, he lets his mind wander to the other events of the weekend. To Sakusa. To them.
He replays every touch, every quip, every hidden smile in his mind like a film reel, analyzing each one and trying to convince himself that they were all for show. They were all for Shinji.
Except…
He sits up in the chair just as the door to the bathroom opens and Sakusa steps out, glancing around the room until his eyes land on Atsumu and his features soften. “Hey,” he says. “Mind if I brush my teeth before you shower?”
“Go ahead,” Atsumu replies, dazed.
Sakusa goes back in, but he leaves the door open. Atsumu stands, walking over to the bathroom and leaning against the frame of the door.
“Hey Omi,” Atsumu says carefully. “I didn’t see Shinji around at all today, did you?”
Sakusa stops brushing, his gaze moving to lock onto Atsumu in the reflection of the mirror with his mouth wide open. He blinks, leans over the sink, spits, rinses his mouth, and then stands up again, putting his toothbrush back in his toiletries bag. “No,” he says simply.
Atsumu licks his lips, thinking about how to say what he wants to say. He sees Sakusa’s eyes in the reflection drop down from his eyes to his mouth, and he takes a deep breath, his confidence building. “Ya still held my hand and shit.”
“He could have been anywhere,” Sakusa points out.
Atsumu starts to smile. “But he wasn’t. And ya knew that.”
“So did you,” Sakusa shoots back, panic in his voice.
“Yeah,” Atsumu says calmly, his smile turning into a grin. “I did.”
Sakusa stares at him, still through the mirror, but doesn’t say anything yet. Atsumu watches the cogs turning behind his eyes, everything clicking into place for him the way it had for Atsumu just now. He even sees the moment it dawns on him: they’re both doing the same dance.
“You did,” Sakusa repeats.
“I did.”
“So…”
“I like ya, Omi,” Atsumu says, tired of beating around the bush. “And I think ya like me, too.”
“I do,” Sakusa says quickly, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t blurt it out he won’t be able to say it at all.
Atsumu grins. “Fuckin’ called it,” he says, and Sakusa rolls his eyes.
“I have no idea why,” he clarifies. “It’s bullshit. Imagine falling for you.”
Atsumu chuckles, stepping into the bathroom and approaching where Sakusa stands at the counter. “I don’t think you're all that mad about it,” he says, wrapping his arms around Sakusa’s waist from the back and winking at him in the mirror.
Sakusa smiles, and this time, he doesn’t try to hide it. “I’m not.”
He turns in Atsumu’s arms so they’re face-to-face, finally pushing past the safety net of the reflection and looking at each other head-on.
“I’m going to say some things,” he continues, “and you can’t let them get to your head.”
Atsumu bites his bottom lip, trying to keep his grin from eclipsing his entire face. “Shoot.”
“You’re smart,” Sakusa starts, “but you know that. You’re attractive, but you know that, too. You’re also kind, thoughtful, and considerate, which I found out over the course of this weekend, and I’m glad I did. You’re bright and warm and you make the people around you feel like they’re better for having you around.”
“Damn, Omi, I haven’t heard ya talk this much since ya presented your undergrad thesis-”
“I’m not finished.”
Atsumu nods, encouraging him to continue. If Sakusa insists on complimenting him out the wazoo, who is he to complain?
“It’s horrible, the way Shinji treated you,” Sakusa continues. “No one deserves that, but especially not you. I’d like to show you that, if you’ll let me.”
He’s blushing now, and Atsumu is pretty sure he is, too. They probably look like a couple of tomatoes standing in a hotel bathroom, but he’s too stunned to care. “Ya mean that?” he asks.
Sakusa smiles wider than ever, then, and Atsumu feels like he’s flying. “Yeah.”
“Can I kiss ya?” Atsumu asks, breathless.
“Yeah,” Sakusa responds.
The kiss is citrus and mint, stinging and sweet in very different ways, but it makes Atsumu feel alive. It’s not electric or anything, but it’s good, and Sakusa tastes good, and he feels good in Atsumu’s arms for real this time. He has to remind himself that it’s all real this time.
They break apart, and Atsumu laughs, a broken little thing that he’s never heard come out of himself before. He knows he’s falling, but he knows Sakusa is falling with him, and he hopes beyond all hope that they never hit the ground.
“D’ya wanna…?” he asks, gesturing with his chin to the room on the other side of the door. Sakusa nods, and they both scramble out of the bathroom.
“Whose bed?” Sakusa asks.
“Doesn’t matter,” Atsumu responds, squeezing Sakusa’s hand in his.
“Mine, then,” Sakusa says, pulling Atsumu onto the mattress and kissing him again with fervor.
This time, it’s deeper. More passionate. More raw. Sakusa’s lips are velvet against Atsumu’s, and he wants to get lost. He wants to go off into the horizon with Sakusa’s hand in his and figure out where they’re going along the way, or maybe not. Maybe they don’t. Maybe they just walk together under the golden light of the sun, aimless but happy, for as long as they can. That might be enough for him.
If Atsumu’s bed doesn’t get used that night, the university doesn’t have to know.