Chapter Text
“Hell no we’re not, Omi-kun!”
In the past week, Miya Atsumu has been seen betrayal of the highest level two times, leaving him wondering if he ever truly knew who Sakusa Kiyoomi was.
Atsumu’s still recovering from the first scourge when the second hits him at full force, hurting more than if the gleefully thrown open door had slammed shut in his face. He’s just returned home after a Monday like any other: he ends his shift with a cheerful see ya tomorrow, best bud! as Shirabu flips him off; treks a well worn path to the ridiculously luxurious penthouse unit he calls home; and steps through their state-of-the-art security equipped door with puckered lips, expecting a kiss given the absolutely abysmal weekend they survived as a couple.
As it turns out, Sakusa expects the same.
Except Sakusa isn’t kissing him.
Lips still pushed out, Atsumu cracks open an eye because it’s been five seconds and he’s feeling awkward. As soon as his vision focuses, he sees his fiancé’s lips on her:
Aone Kuri.
Aone Takanobu’s cat.
“Omi!!!”
Sakusa looks at him plainly, like he hasn’t just been caught kissing someone else in front of his betrothed.
He frowns as Atsumu gestures desperately, clearly distressed, wholly betrayed, and utterly upset.
“What?” he asks. Then, like he’s musing about pine or mint air fresheners, Sakusa suggests they consider adopting a cat of their own.
Atsumu enthusiastically bellows his refusal.
Aone Kuri meows her devious kitty way into their home on Friday evening, three days after Aone slinked out of the darkness (the brightly lit hospital hallways) into Atsumu’s presence (while he was mixing gummy bears into his pudding in the break room.) His commanding and intimidating (monotonous and polite) voice dredged up one of Atsumu’s worst nightmares, one that he’d pushed out of his consciousness until this moment (called in a favor that Atsumu owed after he covered a shift at the last minute several years ago, which Atsumu forgot about until now.)
“I’m visiting family for two weeks,” Aone had said and Atsumu shrinked behind his pudding. “I’d like for you to look after my cat.”
Atsumu thinks that Aone is very well-suited for radiology because the way Sakusa looks through him to see his soul, Aone looks through him and sees his skeletal system.
He probably doesn’t even need an x-ray machine.
From the moment Aone set the carrier down in their apartment and opened the latch, a great evil was unleashed into the Sakusa and Miya abode. Atsumu sensed it, immediately cowering back and felt the light suck out of the room (though this may have to do with Sakusa’s glaring, since Atsumu forgot to tell him about the catsitting situation until half an hour ago.)
The three of them watched as she emerged. One white paw stretched out of the carrier first, followed by a little head with one ear orange and the other part black and part white. “A calico,” Atsumu whispered in horror as she tentatively made another step. Her ears twitched as she looked between them; she looked at Aone first, who nodded, and then at Sakusa, who stared back.
Then she looked at Atsumu and he felt it:
Pure evil.
“I think she just doesn’t like you.”
Atsumu’s eye twitches. Sakusa’s still holding Kuri as he follows him over from the genkan and leans against the counter, next to two lit burners supporting covered pots. Atsumu tries to not pay them any attention, focusing on washing his hands and glancing over the counter to see how much preparation Sakusa was able to get done.
“She was fine when I came home today,” Sakusa continues. One arm keeps Kuri comfortably cradled against his chest while the other cups her head as Sakusa kisses right between her ears again. “When she realized you weren’t here, she stopped hissing. She even let me check her nails.”
If Sakusa were literally anyone else, Atsumu would hope for the hem of his shirt to catch on fire.
Scowling, Atsumu goes to change out of his work clothes (the worst part of being a fellow, he’s complained to everyone who’s so much as within three meters of him, is having to wear dress clothes.) He returns to the kitchen and double checks the chopped vegetables (Sakusa has learned the word julienne and Atsumu doesn’t have the heart to tell him that they’re not nearly thin enough), measured out sauces (he sniffs to make sure Sakusa didn’t accidentally pour black vinegar instead of soy sauce again), and asks Sakusa to grab him a sweater so he can quickly reslice the pork.
“She’s actually very sweet,” Sakusa continues when he returns, Kuri still cradled in one arm and Atsumu’s sweater in the other. Atsumu gestures towards the chair and Sakusa nods, draping it over the back while Atsumu tastes the dashi and adds more kombu and bonito flakes. “I looked it up. She weaves between our legs to mark us, not to trip us.”
Atsumu glares and points accusingly with his wooden spoon. “She walked right into my legs last night while I was carryin’ the laundry! That’s not marking, that’s attempted murder!”
Sakusa purses his lips and lifts his chin at the same time Kuri does.
“You were in her way, then,” Sakusa replies and Kuri meows. “You need to adjust your attitude, Atsumu, Kuri is our guest.”
Atsumu thinks he’s going to explode.
“SHE’S A CAT!!!”
“By the way, don’t use the guest towel in the bathroom. It’s Kuri’s.”
Atsumu considers taking away Sakusa’s dashi making and water boiling privileges.
Even curry udon can’t fully salvage the night for Atsumu. And it’s not entirely Sakusa’s fault; as soon as Aone dropped Kuri off, Atsumu knew that there’d be a cloud looming over him for the next two weeks. She’s not the same cat who knocked eight-year-old Atsumu’s pride and joy model airplane off a window ledge, but she’s a cat and as long as they like pushing things off of surfaces, Atsumu will never forgive them.
“One of those kits with twelve pieces of cut out plywood? Why did it take you an entire month?”
“It had movin’ propellers and I was eight, Omi-kun, gimme a break!! And whose side are ya on, anyway?!”
Sakusa finally sets Kuri down when Atsumu says he’s almost done and asks Sakusa for the dishes. After washing his hands and running the lint roller over himself, Sakusa brings out the bowls and leaves them next to Atsumu, who sings thank ya, Omi-Omi and grins teasingly at him.
“Don’t forget to put yer jade roller in the fridge.”
Sakusa glares.
“Sodium is bloating. You should know that, Atsumu.”
Sakusa can’t stand the smell of cat food and so after plating their dinner, Atsumu’s stuck doing Kuri’s too. He brings over an opened can of tuna and does his best to avoid stepping on Kuri or breaking his skull as she excitedly trots all around him. Glaring at her, he crouches down and begins to spoon the food into her bowl, only for her to keep shoving at him.
Not gentle headbutts. Not purring rubs.
Straight up bodyslamming.
Atsumu jolts as he catches himself after a particularly hard push, clicks his tongue as he watches a bit of tuna fly from the spoon and onto the floor. Kuri rushes past him to eat it off the floor and although now he doesn’t have to clean it up, Atsumu’s still annoyed and snaps, “Oi, be patient!”
Sakusa walks by with two opened beers and explains that she’s just marking him.
Atsumu looks at Kuri. She hisses at him and so he knits his brow.
“Nah, Omi-kun, don’t think that’s what’s happenin’ here.”
Atsumu tries to take a seat once he’s done but Sakusa turns him away, shakes his head with the beer to his lips and gestures to the sink. Scowling, he washes his hands and passes the lint roller over himself the way Sakusa did before finally being allowed to sit and eat the dinner he prepared, gulping so much beer that he burps and Sakusa glares at him.
“I think for as long as Kuri’s here, we should angle our seats,” Sakusa suggests and Atsumu nearly chokes on a noodle. “I read that cats like to be watched as a safety precaution.”
“She doesn’t have any threats here!!” Atsumu snaps, wincing when a scallion tries to end his life. “If anything, I need protection! She scratched me this morning when I tried to kiss ya goodbye!”
Sakusa doesn’t miss a beat. “She was making sure you weren’t late for work.”
“It was a peck on the cheek, not a makeout session—cats don’t even know what making out is!!”
“I’m not making out in front of the cat, Atsumu.”
“That’s not what I’m askin’ for!!!”
Atsumu huffs and resumes eating. He slurps his noodles noisily to drown out the sound of Kuri eating away and pretends to be interested in the nutritional facts of beer so that he doesn’t have to watch Sakusa angle his chair so that Kuri’s in his direct line of sight.
If Atsumu had known that this would be the favor Aone asked of him, he would’ve gone back in time and found someone else to cover his shift, whether it was through begging Aran to chug energy drinks, bribing Shirabu with an accelerated timeline to being best friends, or, worst case scenario, considering just how unethical it would be to have Suna stand in for him.
Atsumu had been pretty new at the time; it’s not like anyone was going to trust him with something important.
As his belly fills with curry udon and chatting with Sakusa, which always cheers him up even if he’s watching her, Atsumu feels himself unwind, lulled into a false serenity. They’re almost done eating when Sakusa brings it up; Atsumu’s joy at him not looking at Kuri is quickly replaced with dread when Sakusa casually asks which napkin rings Aran and Shirabu prefer, intentions clear with his faint smirk. Glaring over the top of the bowl as he finishes the broth, Atsumu sees just how smug Sakusa is as he announces that both Goshiki and Koganegawa prefer the geometric ones.
“Of course they’re gonna say that, Omi-kun,” Atsumu grumbles, setting down his empty bowl. He nods when Sakusa’s hand hovers over it; Sakusa picks it up along with his own and Atsumu follows him to the sink with narrowed eyes. “You were their mentor and they’re both math nerds!”
Sakusa glares at Atsumu, who sets a few more dishes in the sink while Sakusa pulls on his favorite yellow gloves and lathers up the sponge with soap. “For the sake of transparency,” Sakusa adds, “Kunimi has no opinion.”
Atsumu scoffs. “Of course he didn’t, it’s Kunimi-kun!”
If Sakusa’s second betrayal shook the foundational promise of loyalty to their relationship, his first threatened how Atsumu perceived him, wavering the once immutable core that defined who Sakusa Kiyoomi is:
Sakusa wants geometric napkin rings at the wedding.
Geometric.
Napkin.
Rings.
Atsumu jerks his chin up while drying the first bowl Sakusa hands him. “Aran-kun said he sees arguments for both and Ken-chan said he agreed with ya. But,” he adds quickly, “it doesn’t count, cause he only had three coffees, so he wasn’t thinkin’ straight! Ken-chan’s gonna realize tomorrow.”
Sakusa’s too mature to say I told you so but the knowing way he hums is even worse. Atsumu twitches; he dries another bowl, setting it on the rack before clearing his throat. “But honestly, Omi-kun, other people’s opinions don’t even count,” he says dismissively. “It’s our wedding, ya know. Our wedding, so we get to decide. It’s not gonna be a majority vote.”
Atsumu falters. Sakusa finishes the last dish and though Atsumu takes it, he doesn’t dry it yet. The faucet turns off so it’s silent except for what Atsumu just said, words echoing around them and syllables reverberating with the beat of his heart. Biting his lip, Atsumu steps over to gently bump their shoulders together before he beams at Sakusa.
“...Our wedding, Omi-kun,” he repeats softly.
Sakusa smiles gently, murmurs ours and kisses him.
They agreed on a long engagement but Atsumu doesn’t think either he or Sakusa expected nearly two years to pass before they actually started planning the wedding. The timing had never been right; Atsumu had been busy with his fellowship and Sakusa had been hit with what Atsumu can only describe as a brilliant surge of statistical inspiration. Time passed with their rings becoming so warmed to their skin that they more or less felt innate (to Atsumu’s intense amusement, Sakusa still doesn’t know what the inscription on his means, even if he claims he does.)
For Atsumu, the ring becomes something he fidgets the way he used to with his fingers or a stray thread on his sweater. It’s his go to; it’s something that he doesn’t consciously think about but it’s always soothingly there and even though he rarely ever thinks to check for it, he almost immediately realizes when it’s missing.
The only time he almost lost his ring was when he was changing after a procedure that ran long. He was going out to dinner with Sakusa, Bokuto, and Akaashi so Atsumu had reflexively taken the ring off from his necklace to slip it onto his finger, leaving it in his locker. But he’d been in such a rush that once he made sure his clothes were on right, he sprinted out of the changing room, leaving the champagne gold band sitting next to a hurriedly capped bottle of Sakusa Approved cologne.
Atsumu realized right before he was about to tap his card against the turnstiles’ sensor, noticing the absence of the usual glint from the harsh overhead lights. He sprinted back in record time, impressively maneuvering through the obstacle track of Tokyo’s rush hour crowd and made it back to the locker room without falling on his face once. Panting, Atsumu had staggered over to the last corner before his locker, coming around and seeing that not only was his locker still open, Shirabu was there.
Shirabu, sitting on the bench and scrolling through his phone, looking up with a smirk.
Atsumu swallowed thickly as he slowly picked up his ring and slipped it on.
“Omi-kun’s… never gonna know about this, right?” he asked cautiously.
Shirabu lifted his chin, smirk widening and eyes half-lidded.
“As long as we’re both in agreement.”
Atsumu has a feeling that Shirabu sort of owns him now but that’s a problem he’ll deal with later.
Their lives and careers had never coincided with a natural lull that could be used to plan what one calls a “celebration of love” and the other calls an “extensively extravagant gathering.” But around the time Atsumu finishes his fellowship, Sakusa publishes another paper that’s his most acclaimed yet and while Atsumu basks in the glow of being able to call himself a full-fledged doctor, Sakusa’s email floods with congratulations. They’re relaxing together one night when they realize, Sakusa absentmindedly following Atsumu’s it’s gonna be nice to be able to take it easy for a bit with I’m not planning on starting another paper in the near future.
Atsumu teased ya wanna get started on me, then? and admired his ring as Sakusa sighed, grumbling that that didn’t even make sense. His other hand was swirling a glass of wine as it sank in; once it hit, his hand still. Atsumu blinked a few times and when his fingers curled, the band glinted as he craned his neck to look at Sakusa, who had the same faint smile.
Atsumu grinned, head lolling back against the couch.
“So babe… ya still wanna get hitched?”
Sakusa sighed but took Atsumu’s hand and gently kissed his ring.
“...I suppose we shouldn’t put it off any longer.”
“Let’s decide on the napkin rings later,” Atsumu murmurs and smiles at Sakusa’s agreeing hum.
They agree on wine and television for the rest of the evening, a standard favorite that Atsumu happy to prepare for. He takes out a bottle of wine and opens it when he hears quick little trots and mewls accompanying Sakusa’s to the touch. He does his best to ignore them while filling two glasses with wine, even manages to relax his brow until he hears Sakusa gently ask, “Would you like to watch with us?”
Atsumu twitches.
“She’s not invited!” he calls irately.
“She’s our guest,” Sakusa responds calmly.
Atsumu grumbles under his breath, takes a huge gulp of his wine, and then refills it.
Aone Kuri, simply put, is a homewrecker and Atsumu fully plans on exposing her to Aone. Whenever Atsumu leans in to kiss Sakusa, chances are that Kuri will hop onto the closest ledge she can find and when her paw can’t reach his mouth, it’ll press against his throat with a warning hint of claws. Atsumu will slip into bed with his fiancé, only to accidentally nudge a warm ball of fur that’s already cuddled up against Sakusa. Atsumu will wrap his arm around Sakusa’s waist and sometimes teasingly squeeze his ass and immediately have Kuri paw at his hand to get him to stop.
It’s not even fair.
Atsumu will fight literally anyone for Sakusa but how is he supposed to fight a cat?
When he comes to the couch, Atsumu sees Kuri curled up in his spot, purring as she rubs herself against Sakusa’s thigh. Atsumu refuses to give her the satisfaction of reacting so he clears his throat and patiently waits for Sakusa to bring her onto his lap (he would’ve rather Sakusa pushed her off the couch entirely, but Atsumu will take any win he can get.) While she makes herself comfortable, Atsumu sits and makes sure to press his thigh flush against Sakusa’s so that he supersedes everywhere Kuri touched with his own.
Atsumu smiles proudly to himself.
Sakusa sighs.
They end up watching a rerun of one of Atsumu’s favorite dramas. Within a few minutes, Atsumu’s leg starts aching from the surprising amount of effort it takes to sit so pressed against Sakusa. He changes to a more comfortable position and tucks an ankle under his knee, glancing down to check where Kuri is only so his knee doesn’t hit her when he leans it against Sakusa’s thigh.
Unlike Kuri, Atsumu has pride. He plays fair.
Atsumu also pretends he doesn’t see how happy Kuri looks as Sakusa strokes her gently.
“Anything interesting happen today, hakase?” Atsumu asks after a bit, sighing happily and drinking his wine. “Work was pretty standard for me… overheard Ken-chan tell Mika-chan that Semi-chan’s band is gonna play at a bar in a couple of weeks so Aran-kun and I are gonna go. Yer welcome to join if ya want, I think Bokkun might come too.”
Sakusa shakes his head and though he keeps petting Kuri, Atsumu’s chest swells when Sakusa rests his other arm over Atsumu’s folded knee, carefully holding his wine. “Nothing particularly happened. There was a go club meeting and so I asked Meian-san if Hinata can take over the club because of his enthusiasm. Meian-san agrees with the reasoning but says the department doesn’t have enough funds to rebuy pieces if Hinata keeps mistaking them for candy.”
Sakusa huffs.
“I informed him that if the department is that strapped for cash, they need to budget their finances better.”
Atsumu nearly chokes on his wine.
Sakusa frowns in disapproval.
After another sip that has Atsumu holding his lip taut to make sure Sakusa doesn’t see how he still can’t handle a dry red, Atsumu settles against him. Their smart thermostat has finally learned their schedules so he’s comfortably warm. He’s full with one of his favorite family recipes and wearing his favorite lounge clothes; he doesn’t have any early meetings so he can take his time getting ready for work tomorrow morning and Sakusa’s just mumbled that he forgot to take it out, but he brought Atsumu a pastry from a new café he and Akaashi went to earlier that day.
It’s a perfect night, even with a hell-cat in their midst. Atsumu’s not even thinking about Kuri anymore; all he cares about is Sakusa, who just whispered thanks again for dinner into his hair, finishing the sentiment with a kiss. Warm tingles shoot down his spine when he hears Sakusa’s humming sigh; it’s the sigh he makes when he’s relaxed and comfortable and just knowing that leaves Atsumu at peace, dizzy and happy and in love.
Atsumu smiles dazedly. He starts to crane his neck up when he feels something against his thigh; at first he thinks it’s Sakusa but then he realizes that Sakusa can’t control his quads into such a pointed and pressurized force. Brow furrowing, Atsumu’s chin dips to see what’s pushing against him.
It’s Kuri.
Kuri, laying on her side in Sakusa’s lap and pushing one determined little paw against Atsumu as she looks him in the eye.
Immediately, Atsumu’s happy haze disappears.
“Oi!” he snaps and both Kuri and Sakusa jolt simultaneously, eyes widening and bodies tensing. Atsumu stands and Sakusa immediately pulls his arm back, careful to keep the wine from spilling. “Ya crummy lil—”
“Atsumu, what’s—”
Kuri pushes off of Sakusa’s thigh and gets in one last win by nearly toppling Atsumu when she darts between his legs to hide under the couch. Atsumu’s about to drop onto his knees to find Kuri so he can glare at her and make sure she doesn’t get in the last word when Sakusa stops him, a stern, “Atsumu,” followed by a disapproving glare. “You startled her.”
“She tried to push me away, Omi-kun!” Atsumu whines. He points at the couch cushion where he guesses Kuri’s hiding. “She was literally pushin’ me away!!”
“She was probably just stretching.”
“She looked me in the eye!!”
“Didn’t you say to never look a cat in the eye?”
The way Kuri disappears so suddenly and quickly, she reappears just long enough to swipe a paw against Atsumu’s ankle with a hiss. Yelping, Atsumu stumbles a couple steps before Sakusa’s able to stabilize him by taking his arm. He brings his foot up and they both look at his ankle, where there are two pink welts with droplets of blood beginning to pool.
It barely hurts, but that’s not what Atsumu’s focused on.
He’s offended at what it means.
“See?!” Atsumu whispers harshly, hopping awkwardly as Sakusa patiently leads him towards the balcony. “See, Omi-kun?! She wants me gone, she was goin’ for my Achilles tendon!!!”
Sakusa regards him warily.
“She’s a cat, Atsumu. She went for your ankles.”
Atsumu balks.
“That’s where they are!!!”
To Atsumu’s dismay, Sakusa leaves him outside and tells him to wait there. He asks why he’s being kicked out and Sakusa answers that he wants them separated to prevent further bloodshed and while Kuri is an indoor cat, Atsumu is an indoor and outdoor human.
Huffing indignantly, Atsumu glares at Sakusa’s back until he disappears around the corner, light from the washroom spilling around the corner. He’s about to relax his expression when Kuri suddenly pokes her head out from under the couch.
Immediately, Atsumu scowls and Kuri hisses at him.
Atsumu hisses back.
Sakusa undoubtedly both sees and hears this exchange but he doesn’t acknowledge it, wordlessly joining Atsumu on the balcony with an armful of items. Once they’re sitting, Sakusa asks for one foot at a time; he wipes the unharmed one with a warm towel and then tells Atsumu to put on the slipper, doing the same with the other but keeping his leg stretched across his lap.
“This’s the worst foot massage ever,” Atsumu grumbles and crosses his arms. Sakusa sighs and when he asks if it hurts, Atsumu retorts that of course it does.
Sakusa twists Atsumu’s leg just enough so they can both see that there are literally only five drops of blood.
Atsumu purses his lips.
“My heart hurts,” he explains and Sakusa sighs.
Wound is a generous word for what Kuri did to him but Atsumu maintains the terminology. It isn’t anything that needs more than a bandaid and Atsumu thinks that Sakusa wetting a cotton ball with antiseptic and cleaning the area so thoroughly is really overkill.
However, he sees an opportunity.
“So ya admit it,” Atsumu says. Sakusa glances up and Atsumu leans in with narrowed eyes. “She’s got germs.”
Sakusa is not impressed by this. He finishes with the cotton ball, discards it in a small plastic bag he brought out for trash.
“We all do. You should know this, Atsumu.”
Sulking, Atsumu sits back and as Sakusa applies some ointment to a waterproof bandaid and presses it on carefully. He announces he’s done and Atsumu looks over, twisting his leg and thinks that nobody in the world has ever had a bandaid applied so carefully and precisely to them.
Sighing at the idea of having to go back inside with Kuri, Atsumu begins to sit up and look around to find his other slipper. “I’m a doctor,” he feebly mumbles. “I could’ve done this myself.”
“I know.”
Atsumu blinks. He’s found the slipper and has mentally aimed his foot when Sakusa’s hand comes over his leg, keeping it in his lap. He looks over and sees Sakusa smiling faintly at him.
“But you’re my fiancé. I want to take care of you.”
Atsumu blinks several times and buries his red face in his hands as Sakusa cleans up.
As soon as the first aid kit clicks shut and the plastic bag’s handles crinkle into a knot, Atsumu feels Sakusa let go of his leg, sighing and standing after stepping into the other slipper. Sakusa hasn’t stood yet but he doesn’t think much of it; Atsumu assumes he’s waiting for him to go in first so he starts to head to the door, though only gets in one stride when Sakusa murmurs come here and the same hand on his leg tugs his arm.
Atsumu stumbles into Sakusa’s lap, a surprised oof leaving him flushed with embarrassment because of how Sakusa laughs. An arm comes around his waist to hold him close and Sakusa shakes his head when Atsumu slightly frantically says, “I don’t wanna crush ya, Omi-kun,” as he squirms.
He still isn’t sure what’s happening but when Sakusa pulls the other chair so it’s side-by-side with the one they’re both in, Atsumu reflexively drapes his legs over the armrests, resting his heels on the cushion and curling an arm around Sakusa’s neck. “...Ya hate the cold,” Atsumu says after a moment and hugs Sakusa a little tighter because he thinks he feels a small shiver. “We can go back in, Omi-kun. I’ll just, I dunno, wear a onesite so that she can’t attack me anymore.”
“She’s an animal, Atsumu, it was her instinct to being scared,” Sakusa replies tiredly and even though he kisses Atsumu’s neck after that, he’s still scowling.
Atsumu’s bottom lip juts out. He wrinkles his nose. “I didn’t mean to,” he grumbles. “But Omi-kun, we can’t just trust her.”
“She’s a cat, Atsumu, not a spy,” Sakusa muses and tucks his head beneath Atsumu’s chin. “Why would Aone-san want to spy on you, anyway?”
“Not for Aone-kun, she’s spyin’ on behalf of cat-kind,” Atsumu presses and feels Sakusa’s heavy sigh. “We can’t trust any of ‘em! Ya never know what they’re thinkin’ about and they’re probably thinkin’ about how to take over the world. We’re just puppets to ‘em!”
Atsumu hears light tapping against the door. Craning his head, Atsumu spots Kuri pawing at the glass while standing on her back legs. When she starts meowing, Atsumu sighs begrudgingly and loosens his grip on Sakusa’s neck, doesn’t want to think about just how comfortable he was getting. “Kuri’s whining,” Atsumu grumbles and frowns. “I know ya wanna go check on her, so go ahead.”
To his surprise, Sakusa tightens his grip on Atsumu.
“She’ll be fine on her own for a bit,” he says. With Atsumu’s arm still loose over his shoulders, Sakusa leans back, smiling gently as he studies him. The arm around his waist adjusts itself and Atsumu feels Sakusa’s hand slip beneath the hem of his shirt, a slightly chilly finger tracing circles on his hip. “It hasn’t been just us for a while,” he continues in a soft voice. “I’ve missed this.”
Sakusa’s eyes dart to Atsumu’s lips, linger for a moment and then return to meet his gaze.
“I’ve missed you.”
That still leaves Atsumu’s head spinning.
Atsumu feels his cheeks becoming full with a smile, a wide grin that parts for a breathless laugh right before he dips his head when Sakusa reaches up. Their lips meet in the middle and although it’s gentle, Atsumu feels the world disappear for a moment, like the sky collapsed when the ground fell away and they’re suspended in nothingness and everything at once. The last bits of sunlight on their skin has Atsumu feeling like he’s a thousand degrees, even though he’s faintly aware of Sakusa’s cool fingers scratching the small of his back and threading through his hair.
Atsumu forgets that it’s still more the end of winter than the beginning of spring; he forgets that they’re outside on the balcony because when Sakusa’s kissing him like this, when he’s holding him like that, when he’s sighing like so, all Atsumu is aware of is Sakusa and nothing else.
Atsumu’s lips are numb from everything except the cold when they break apart. His ears are ringing with the sunset, the last wintry chills, and their panting; his head dips as Sakusa’s tips forward, their foreheads coming together as they take a moment. As sensation returns, Atsumu feels the pads of Sakusa’s finger rubbing against his waist and although his heart’s still racing and his lips are still slick, a very tiny part of his brain is wondering if Sakusa’s using him as a human heating pad.
“I’m not too busy tomorrow,” Sakusa murmurs and Atsumu bites his lip to halt his smile. “Are you free for coffee during lunch?”
Atsumu’s heart skips a beat. Nodding excitedly, he’s grinning when he finally opens his eyes and gazes gently at Sakusa, hands coming to cup his face. “For you, hakase, of course,” he murmurs. “See ya tomorrow, yeah?”
Sakusa’s smiling and with sunset lighting his face, with his arm around Atsumu and occupying every single one of Atsumu’s thoughts, his heart explodes because he still can’t believe it; Atsumu still can’t believe this is real.
This is it, he thinks, this is what he’s been searching for his whole life.
This is what love is.
Love is dead.
Love is dead and it’s no one’s fault, not even Kuri’s.
Atsumu’s in the lobby fifteen minutes before Sakusa’s supposed to pick him up, passing the time by gushing about their date to the receptionist. When his phone lights up with a call, his initial hey hakase, ready for some private office hours is the single peak of a conversation that, when it ends and Atsumu hangs up, the receptionist is pushing the bowl of candies towards him with a sympathetic smile.
Sakusa calls in a panic because Kuri’s limping when he comes home from some errands. He doesn’t see any wounds or blood, he says, but she’s keeping the weight off one particular leg, even if she’s eating fine and still hurries to greet him. Atsumu immediately says he’ll message Hirugami to let him know that Sakusa and Kuri are on their way; she’s probably fine, he tries to reassure Sakusa, but it’s best to get a professional opinion.
Sakusa thanks him, relief evident in his voice, and then when he adds he’ll drop off a coffee later in the afternoon, Atsumu realizes:
Their coffee date isn’t happening.
Atsumu sighs, spinning sadly in his chair. After going upstairs with the entire bowl of candy, he’d done as much work as he could before he needed to fully process the absolutely crushing disappointment weighing him down. It’s just coffee, Atsumu tries to tell himself, but it’s like Sakusa said: it hasn’t been just them in a while. Between work and wedding planning and everything else that they’re normally dealing with, Atsumu sees and talks to Sakusa constantly but they haven’t carved out time the way they used to.
Atsumu sighs sadly again. Shirabu comes to a stop in front of him, setting down a pile of binders and folders and glances at him as he begins to sort them. “What’s the matter with you, Miya-sensei?”
Atsumu looks up pitifully.
“I was supposed to see Omi-kun during lunch,” he whimpers.
Shirabu blinks and then looks disgusted, moving himself and all his binders a meter away.
“I didn’t need to know that. Please keep it professional during work hours, Miya-sensei.”
Atsumu’s too sad to even correct him.
Sakusa updates him throughout the day and until Atsumu remembers he asked for these texts, he thinks Kuri’s somehow telling Sakusa to send them as a reminder that he’s with her. Hirugami says it’s just a sore muscle and she’ll be better after a few days of rest and icing, which Sakusa takes seriously. He fashions a little kitty ice pack for her and sends Atsumu a picture of him icing her leg; when he receives it, Atsumu zooms in on Kuri because, admittedly, it’s pretty cute.
Shirabu walks by when Atsumu’s zoomed in on Sakusa’s lap and snaps, “We’re at work, Miya-sensei.”
Atsumu wades through the knee deep mud that’s the rest of the day: Shirabu keeps his distance even after Atsumu corrects that it was just a coffee date and nothing else; Mika and Aoki take advantage Atsumu sulking at his desk by giving him notes to review; Aran enlists his help for a few consults as a distraction but kicks him out after three because Atsumu keeps asking the patients if they’d ever choose a cat over their fiancé.
“I mean, I’m not heartless, ya know?” Atsumu prattles. “She was sick today so I’m not holdin’ it against Omi-kun that he’s with her. I guess this was just my breaking point cause over the weekend, Omi-kun spent, like, all his time with her. He said that we had to make sure she acclimated but I was like, she’s a cat…”
He sighs heavily.
“Anyway, I can only imagine how happy Kuri is now… She’s prob’ly purring and snugglin’ with Omi-Omi and being waited on hand and food. He doesn’t even do that with me, ya know! Last time I was sick, he tried to make me get outta bed to walk a lap around the living room, all cause he read an article that said it’s good for healing! That’s for brain surgery!!”
The seven-year-old who Atsumu is playing Go Fish with blinks at him.
“Do you have any fives?”
Atsumu looks at his hand and sighs, handing him a five.
The world is dark and bleak for Atsumu today.
Even though his shift ends, Atsumu remains slumped in his chair, staring up at the ceiling aimlessly. Mika gently reminds him that he’s been free to go for over half an hour and Atsumu thanks her weakly, explaining that he’s trying to summon up the mental fortitude to stand.
(Shirabu walks by and scoffs.)
As her steps disappear down the hallway, Atsumu finally brings his head up, wincing as he rubs his sore neck. Taking a deep breath, he shakes his head and gently slaps his cheeks while sitting up properly and planting both feet on the ground. “C’mon, Tsumu, pull it together,” he mumbles to himself. “It’s not Omi-Omi’s fault and he offered droppin’ off a coffee, yer the one who said no… get up, bring dinner home, and make sure ya don’t make Omi-kun feel bad. Smile, scrub!”
Atsumu forces a smile right as Shirabu comes back around the corner.
He literally falls to the floor in shock and Atsumu now feels worse about himself.
Whimpering sadly, Atsumu sadly puts his head down on the counter.
It wouldn’t even have been anything extravagant. It would’ve been forty five minutes at most, likely at the best coffee shop on campus that, according to Komori, is still barely passable. It would’ve been essentially the same thing as when they went to a café a few weekends ago to look through venues; it wouldn’t have been a big thing and considering Atsumu’s about to go home to the love of his life, he can’t believe he’s so upset by this.
Atsumu lays his cheek on the counter because his forehead is starting to hurt and his nose feels too squished. Eyes still closed, he takes a breath and sighs sadly.
“Get over it, scrub,” he mumbles incoherently to himself. “Pull it together, Tsumu… suck it up…”
“...Do I want to know why you’re mumbling about sucking?”
Atsumu sits up immediately because if he can recognize Sakusa’s mumble in one of Tokyo’s most popular bars, he can recognize it in a nearly silent hospital wing. His eyes widen at Sakusa standing in front of him, wearing the coat that Atsumu’s always said makes him look so handsome and looking at him with a slightly puzzled expression.
“Omi-kun,” Atsumu manages and after another moment of staring, he tenses and scrambles to check his phone. “Shit, shit, sorry, I must’ve missed yer text—”
“I didn’t text,” Sakusa says just as Atsumu sees he doesn’t have any missed notifications. He looks at him again and Sakusa’s looking away, fixing his mask and a hint of pink underlining the top of his mask. “...I was going to surprise you in the lobby but when Yamaka-san saw me and told me that you’ve just been spinning aimlessly in your chair for the last hour, I came to check on you.”
“W-what?” Atsumu stammers. “S-surprise? For what? Where’s Kuri?”
“Komori’s with her,” Sakusa mutters and Atsumu has to focus to make out the mumblings his mask is hiding even more than Sakusa’s trying to. “I…”
He pauses. For a moment, his eyes close and just as Atsumu thinks he’s about to pinch the bridge of his nose, Sakusa takes his mask off and turns back to him. “...I’m sorry I had to cancel our coffee date, Atsumu,” he says quietly and Atsumu stares at him. “I wanted to make it up to you by taking you out to dinner.”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“...Atsumu.”
Atsumu’s eyes flutter. He audibly gasps when all he was trying to do was inhale and he can see Sakusa tense, hovering his hand over his nose and mouth like a makeshift mask as he looks around to make sure nobody’s looking at them. There’s a tickle in Atsumu’s chest, one that emanates a warmth and when Sakusa looks back to him, Atsumu has his hands together, thumbs tucked under his chin as he futilely tries to hide his smile.
“S-sorry,” he stammers and looks up, lowering his hands and beaming. Sakusa’s still blushing but he’s more relaxed now, looking at him tiredly and with a small smile. “I was… ah, I was just thinkin’ about how yer a lot nicer when askin’ me out now.”
Sakusa stares at him for a moment and then openly scowls.
Atsumu feels like he’s walking on air, even in his annoyingly stiff and proper shoes. He comes around the counter so there’s nothing between them and takes Sakusa’s offered hand, laughs when he’s pulled into an embrace and feels a kiss to his temple. “Are you ready to go now?” Sakusa asks, fingers lacing with Atsumu’s and other arm holding him close.
Atsumu beams. He nods and cranes his neck up, smiling when his expectantly pursed lips finally earn him his long overdue post-work kiss.
“I can’t wait to marry ya,” he whispers against him, his own smiling blooming at feeling Sakusa’s. “Seriously, Omi-kun.”
He pulls back and looks at Sakusa like he’s made of stars.
“I can’t wait.”