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Fukurou knew this was going to happen when Atsumu said he was joining the V League straight out of high school. He’s proud. Of course. Everyone is. Maybe the Miya name pulled some weight, but no one in Fukurou’s family or Atsumu’s has admitted to pulling any strings for him. Only a few years after the first omega in Division 1 stepped onto the court, in a time where there’s a privalling sense that omegas can really only cope as liberos in the top leagues, Atsumu received offers from a handful of teams.
Except, despite all Fukurou’s gentle, subtle encouragement - and then not so gentle and subtle nagging - Atsumu turns down the chance to pay with him and Kourai for the Schweiden Adlers. Even with Fukurou’s suggestions that he could negotiate for what he wanted. No, Atsumu seemed determined from the start, he’d picked out the MSBY Black Jackals and that was where he’d spend his first season.
With Meian Shuugo.
Meian Shuugo who will not keep his hands off of Atsumu.
They all wear patches to block their scents during matches, and Shuugo’s a beta anyway, but everytime Shuugo pats Atsumu’s shoulder or ruffles his hair, Fukurou wants nothing more than to duck under the net and shove him off. The thought that he does it during practice when not wearing patches, covering Atsumu in his scent, makes his blood boil. Maybe just because it's Shuugo and he just has a knack for pissing Fukurou off.
“Yer gettin’ all growly, Fu-chan,” Atsumu says quietly across the net.
“Stop calling me that,” Fukurou hisses back. Like he hasn’t been telling Atsumu to stop calling him that since they were kids. “You can pronounce Fukurou.”
“Miyuki-ba-chan thinks it’s cute,” he replies.
“Mum also thinks Kourai’s cute. Her judgement is clouded.” Kourai squawks indignantly behind him. “And of course I’m going to react if you’re going to keep letting him put his hands all over you-”
“It’s only Meian-san,” he says with a shrug. Then he grins. “Oh, are ya jealous, Fu-chan. Ya really did want me on the Adlers, right?”
Fukurou rolls his eyes and steps away, ignoring Atsumu’s laughter.
“I’ll send it up nice an’ easy on the left next, Fu-chan,” he calls. “Try to keep up.”
Fukurou hates him. Why is he so worried about Atsumu anyway? He’s an asshole. He doesn’t know why he or their parents were so worried about Atsumu joining the Jackals - why Fukurou had spent so much time reassuring them he knew the Jackals, they’re good people, Shuugo would look after him and they were the first team in the division on have an omega player. Atsumu fits right in with all those jackass Jackals.
Atsumu does put the set sight up to the left without hesitation and steals the next point.
“Their new omega distracting you, Fukurou?” their captain says between sets.
“Miya Atsumu can be very distracting,” Ushijima says plainly.
Fukurou shakes his head when their coach glances up at him. “It’s fine.”
“Are we going to have a problem, Hirugami?” his coach says. “If you can’t handle having an omega at the net-”
“That’s not it,” Fukurou says, before tacking on a belated, “...sir…” The last thing he wants is his coach thinking he can’t handle an omega, or people thinking he’s got something against them. “It’s… more like a sibling thing. We grew up together. It’s just him being him.”
“That bastard can get under anyone’s skin,” Kourai snorts.
That’s an understatement. Atsumu is probably the only person who can get Sachirou to throw a punch. Anyone who thought omegas were passive and docile clearly hasn’t seen Atsumu and Sachirou getting in each other’s faces. Fukurou glances over at the Jackals’ bench. Shuugo meets his eye and casually wraps his arm around Atsumu’s shoulders.
“You know they’re doing it to piss you off, right?” Kourai says. “And you’re letting them.”
“I know,” Fukurou snaps.
Kourai rolls his eyes. “And you lot say I’ve got a temper.”
Kourai does have a temper. Although, Fukurou thinks he’d still take Kourai’s company over Ushijima’s. For all Ushijima seems sensible and mature, Fukurou just can’t make sense of him. At least he’s known Kourai for years to make up for his quirks. And it’s not like Fukurou is losing his temper. Shuugo always knows how to get under his skin, but Fukurou can give as good as he gets. He can read Atsumu and Shuugo well enough and his blocks are hitting hard. It’s worth the frustration to see Atsumu and Shuugo getting pissed off by the blocks. It’s been to turn his frustrations into hard blocks rather than to fall apart under the weight of them.
The Adlers take the win and that balances out the bitterness of seeing Shuugo escort Atsumu off the court with his arm around his shoulders.
At least until he’s showered and changed, and at least a little more clear headed for it. Beside him, Kourai’s wet hair droops over his face as he loses the fight to push it back. He’s constantly threatening to cut it off. Fukurou sighs and steps behind him, gently sweeping Kourai’s hair back into a loose ponytail to keep it out of the way.
“What’s with you and Miya today?” Kourai says, turning to him as he pulls on his jacket. “I mean, I know you’ve never had to play across from him before, but that was weird. You really still bitter he picked the Jackals?”
“So I’m a little protective,” Fukurou snaps, picking up his bag and putting it over his shoulder. “He’s basically another little brother, it’s not easy letting him fly the nest and then seeing him play against me and let Shuugo, of all people, put his hands all over him. He’s such a sleeze.”
“Says you,” he laughs. “Aren’t you two fuck buddies or something?”
“Or something,” he says.
Kourai rolls his eyes and the pair leave together, heading for the bus for their hotel. At least until they spot Atsumu being bothered by a journalist. Fukurou clicks his tongue. Bothered is definitely the right word. Atsumu is glaring down at him, clearly bored of whatever conversation is happening. Fukurou isn’t surprised. There’s a time for journalists to talk to them. Cornering them in the back of the arena is just impolite. He asks about something being too much for an omega and Atsumu rolls his eyes, muttering what Fukurou can only assume is a scripted response to questions like that, given he’s not snapping at him.
And then the journalist reaches for Atsumu.
Fukurou has caught his wrist before he even realises he’s crossed the hall.
"Don't touch what's mine.”
It’s a low growl, rumbling in his chest, from a dark, primal place. He shoves the bastard away with a snarl and throws his white jacket over Atsumu to smother him in his scent. The journalist glares back, but his scent is sour and rancid enough to say he’s not going to push. He’s not got the balls to stand up to Fukurou.
“Let’s got, Attsun,” he says, turning away and pulling Atsumu along by the waist. “Kourai.”
Kourai’s footsteps hurry after them and Atsumu lets himself be pulled along, although the tang of raspberry in his scent burns stronger than usual. Fukurou ignores that, letting his own scent wrapped around Atsumu’s comfort him. Atsumu’s familiar fruity and sharp scent mixes with Fukurou's easy floral notes and Fukurou hadn’t realised how much he missed this until now. He'd always taken having Atsumu's scent around as a given. Without even realising, he's already loosening up again.
“That’s going to be on every trashy gossip site by this evening,” Kourai hisses. “You’re going to give PR a heart attack.”
“Oh, PR’s the least of his concerns,” Atsumu snaps.
“You’re right,” Fukurou sighs. “Mum is going to kill me.”
“Nevermind Miyuki-ba-chan!” He shoves Fukurou’s side, knocking him off balance enough to slip out of his hold and put Kourai between them. He doesn’t throw Fukurou’s jacket back at him though. “What was that? Who’re ya callin’ yers, huh?”
“So… you’re not together?” Kourai says.
“No!” they both snap.
Which actually makes what Fukurou just did all the more dumb. He doesn't have an excuse. Their PR team really are going to kill him, and he’s going to have to explain to his parents that he’s not dating Atsumu. He’s sure they wouldn’t mind, in theory; his mother would probably be thrilled to have one of her kids dating one of her best friend’s boys, but the interrogation over when and how long and if it was appropriate would be a headache. No. Atsumu is just an omega he’s grown up with - who he has fucked once or twice or maybe a handful times - that Fukurou feels the need to protect.
That his most primal instincts tell him he should own and make his.
“Sorry, Attsun,” Fukurou says with a shrug. “I just acted without thinking. You and Shuugo were winding me up all game, I guess that was the last straw.”
“I ain’t yer omega, Fu-chan,” Atsumu says.
“I know.”
“We ain’t datin’ or courtin’ and mated or any of that shit. Unless there's something ya wanna tell me?”
“No. I know. I’ll make sure PR puts out a statement so no one thinks any less of you.”
Atsumu makes a strange noise. Something between groan and growl, and maybe a little bit of a whine. He does that sometimes. Fukurou can never make sense of it. Something frustrated and angry and sad all at once. Something that turns his scent even more sharp and sour. If they weren’t in public, and Fukurou hadn’t just stumbled into a potential PR nightmare he doesn’t want to add to, he’d drag Atsumu into his arms and cuddle him into surrender like when they're with their families.
“I don’t needja babyin’ me, Fukurou,” Atsumu says, storming off towards his team by their bus. “I knew ya’d do this. This is why I didn’t sign with the Adlers!”
“Ah, Attsun,” Fukurou calls. “My jacket.”
Atsumu flips him off and doesn’t look back as he joins the Black Jackals. What the hell is his problem? Sure, he’d overstepped, but it hadn’t been that much of a big deal. So he got a bit protective, so what?
“And you’re supposed to be one of the smart ones,” Kourai sighs. Fukurou turns to him and Kourai groans. “Idiot. Clearly he’s been winding you up with Meian all day waiting for you to get possessive and jealous and finally make a move. Which is dumb, but he's a Miya, so that's expected, and you did it anyway. And then you back pedalled! He probably even picked the Jackals because he knows what you and Meian are like. He’s doing everything to get your attention and make you jealous. And you’re missing it. You’re as dumb as each other and you deserve each other.”
“That’s…” Fukurou turns to gaze at Atsumu, who’s watching with a pout but turns to Shuugo the second he’s caught looking. “That’s ridiculous, Kourai. If Atsumu wants my attention he has it, he doesn’t need to do ridiculous things like that.”
Kourai sighs again. “I’m starting to think Sachirou got all the brains of the family.”