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Kiyoomi knew that one of those crazy wild men who corresponded to being his teammates would be the cause of a stroke.
Yes, because sending two such as Bokuto and Hinata - we repeat: Bokuto and Hinata - to do the food shopping for the Black Jackals' Christmas party they had planned meant two things.
Either having a strange sense of humour.
Or attempting to permanently murder his coronaries, or otherwise not having the slightest bit of conscience and critical sense.
Spoiler: obviously the second hypothesis was true.
Even deciding to pair him and Atsumu up to decorate for Christmas the room where the team usually had their meetings, again meant having a strange sense of humour.
Same sense of humour his cousin had, which to call bizarre was being kind.
°°Are you throwing a Christmas party with Atsumu, Kyo?°° Motoya had exclaimed all happy the night before during their weekly video call °°I can't believe you're actually throwing a party. It's great. My baby has grown up.°°
Kiyoomi had ended the call in his face, after telling him that he shouldn't mention Mulan randomly and against him.
And now there he was. Together with Miya Atsumu. Dripping with enthusiasm about that Black Jackals Christmas party thing. Enthusiasm and sexiness. It was bloody, fucking sexy and peachy, for fuck's sake. It was so unfair!
Unfair that it haunted Kiyoomi's dirty dreams. And Kiyoomi's days. And Kiyoomi's thoughts. Good heavens: he was going to bolt him in the face for that! When he looked at him with that sly, winking smile. Arghhh! That made him want to make him beg for cock crumbs, that's what!
‘Okay Kyo, calm down... calm down! Breathe.’ instructed Kiyoomi to himself that morning of the twenty-third of December when that very Miya Atsumu who haunted his dreams, and the chooper, knocked on his door early in the morning. And he was, of course, fuckable.
Goodnees, Kiyoomi was giving all his self-control not to grab him, slam him up the wall and fuck him into unconsciousness. Which might have been just what Atsumu wanted.
Kiyoomi wasn't naive, he had picked up on the other guy's signals well, he just wanted to make sure Atsumu was serious about him. And so he was taking his time (having to jerk off in the meantime, but details).
- What do you want, Miya? -
- Come on Omi-Omi, don't you know that Christmas isn't so much about opening presents as it is about opening our hearts? -
He received the door in his face as an answer, which Atsumu - foreseeing the whole thing - managed to avoid by putting his foot in it.
- Or maybe you'd like to open something else, Miya. - There it was, though, teasing him, winking because seeing Atsumu's eyes widen for a moment, seeing him blush before regaining full possession of his cockface, gave Kiyoomi a sense of power and dominance. And of enormous satisfaction.
- I'd love to do it, but you see Omi: we have to go buy a tree. –
- What is a tree for? -
- Have you ever celebrated Christmas in your life? - Atsumu gave him a look of dramatic bewilderment.
- Of course I have. - was the reply. Any branch of Kiyoomi's bizarre and messy family loved Christmas just as much as Atsumu did, and started decorating their house as early as the end of November. So of course baby Omi had Christmas to celebrate.
- Then you should know that we'll need a tree. -
- Is there enough room in the club room for a tree? - was his fair observation. Knowing Atsumu, he would definitely want to get the biggest tree.
- Of course! We'll get a small one, don't worry Omi. - Atsumu laughed, causing Kiyoomi's right eyebrow to arch in puzzlement.
Kiyoomi wanted to die.
It was freezing cold outside. He could see his breath and his fingers were numb even through his gloves, yet there he was, wandering around the Christmas tree shop.
Atsumu hopped here and there, looking at every single tree the greenhouse had to offer, seemingly heedless of the weather.
- Hurry up, Miya. I'm about to freeze to death. -
- Oww Omi, is that a sneaky way of saying you want me to warm you up? - Atsumu asked, winking at him.
Kiyoomi chose not to consider that answer, he simply continued to follow Atsumu around the place thinking of all the ways he could kill himself or Miya using only objects in their immediate vicinity. He had found seven of them when they finally chose their tree.
Once the tree was fully wrapped in the net, ready for delivery within an hour to its destination, Atsumu all happy (and, yes: that happy, genuine smile melted Kiyoomi's heart), turned to him, rubbing his hands together to warm them.
- What shall we do now, Omi? -
- Nothing? I'm cold, hungry, and tired. -
- How can you be tired? - Atsumu asked incredulously.
- You're an exhausting person, Miya. You drained all my life force. –
The next moment, Kiyoomi realized his mistake
- Oh, Omi: I would like to drain you of something else and be told that I drained you of all energy for another reason. - he concluded winking.
Everyone is better during the Christmas season or tries to be. But evidently someone had forgotten to tell Miya Atsumu.
The idea of a kiss under the mistletoe was a horrible idea. A stupid, cliché idea. One that only worked in movies. B-movie. But Shoyo was overjoyed. And he had promised, the week before, to help Atsumu out. Precisely when, one evening, the two had gone out for a drink together.
After the third round of alcohol Atsumu had realised, in a horrifying slow-motion mockery of his worst fear, that he was babbling aimlessly about the bane of his existence: Sakusa Kiyoomi.
- I knew it, Atsumu-san. I always thought you liked Omi-san. - Shoyo had exclaimed happily, and with enthusiasm running high, his smile extra bright, he had started shaking Atsumu by the shoulders as if he were a rag doll and not a six-foot-tall athlete.
Atsumu hadn't been able to do anything but try to disguise his own words, as if that was news to him too, even though it wasn't at all. In fact, he had known it for a long time. That he had a crush on Kiyoomi. And Osamu had known it for longer than him, for sure.
- You like Omi-san! - Shoyo had repeated.
And Atsumu wanted to curl up and cry in despair.
- It's alright, Atsumu-san! I'll help you! –
- How so? I don't want to sound rude Shoyo-kun but I'd like to remind you how long did it take you and Tobio-kun to admit your feelings to each other? -
- Ahhh, but that doesn't count! - Hinata had started laughing and waving his arms in the air as if trying to chase something away - This is different. -
- But we don't even know if he likes me. - Atsumu had sighed sadly.
- Trust me, Atsumu-san. I already have an idea. - Shoyo had concluded winking.
And the help for the realisation of that crazy, stupid idea of a kiss under the mistletoe would come from the most unlikely and unthinkable person.
To make it even more... bizarre? Grotesque? Kafkaesque? Insane? was the fact that the Adlers had been invited to attend the Black Jackals' Christmas party.
Kiyoomi trusted in the seriousness of the Adlers to redress the balance. Or rather: he trusted in Wakatoshi.
He would have been sadly betrayed.
And to say that someone as bright, shrewd and intelligent as Kiyoomi should have suspected something given Hinata's exaggeration, more than usual at least by his standards, and his sly smile when he spoke of the Adlers' arrival. Of course, Kiyoomi should have, if only he hadn't been too busy staring at Miya Atsumu's ass and screaming thighs as he climbed up the ladder in front of him to finish decorating the room, with him purposely continuing to give him the wrong directions to let him stay up there for longer and thus allow Kiyoomi to enjoy the view more.
Kiyoomi trusted in Wakatoshi, it was said, to restore a minimum of seriousness and composure in that holiday he feared, indeed: he knew, would degenerate within a short time.
But he had not dealt with a highly insane variable present in the Adlers.
Hoshiumi Kourai.
Whose mission in life was to make a fool of none other than Ushijima Wakatoshi, the unwitted victim of his jokes. And the more Kourai strained, the more Wakatoshi maintained his stoic granitism.
That’s why the arrival of the Adlers was announced by chimes of festive bells and in perfect Christmas mood, from some "ho ho ho" greeted by a chorus of laughter, applause and whistles. Here we go: laughter. That should have made Kiyoomi think there was nothing good going on.
He was expecting it, but... Exactly what the hell were doing Kageyama and Wakatoshi dressed as reindeer, with a red nose and bright intermittently, dragging a... "thing" is not better specified that it should have been a sled on which Kourai dressed as Santa Claus with a pillow under the red dress threw to his passage red sticks wishing Merry Christmas?
Perhaps, thought Kiyoomi, would he be like that? To lose his dignity? No, because if even someone like Wakatoshi had lost it, maybe he had already happened and didn’t realize it.
He didn’t know if he wanted to know how and why Wakatoshi had been persuaded to do something like that.
Get over Tobio because there was definitely the hand of Shoyo, who dressed as an elf, and never disguise could be more right, literally flew the arm to Kageyama, but Wakatoshi?
The answer he would have later was that Kourai had told them, with a conspiracy, that they had to somehow make up for the loss suffered a little over a month before and get to their bitter opponents by stupendous and surpassing them on whatever Christmas they had in mind.
Well, amazed, Kiyoomi was surprised. In fact, it would have been more correct to say: shocked, but details.
But he did not have time to process him immediately. Because it was he who ended up in front of everyone.
- Atsumu-san, Omi-san: you are under the mistletoe! - Shoyo, always in Tobio’s arms, pointed them laughing, with his thousand decibels that he made everyone turn towards them.
- It’s true. - he spoke serious Wakatoshi and the seriousness of his face and tone were so in contrast with his disguise, the red nose that kept shining, that it would be a laugh if only Kiyoomi was not risking a hysterical crisis.
- Kiyoomi-kun you must kiss, it brings bad luck if you do not. - It was Wakatoshi who said these words.
Goodness! Kiyoomi couldn’t believe it. Betrayed by the only person with whom he felt he could feel safe (because he knew that if there was Motoya, he would tie him like a salami under the mistletoe and throw it as tribute to Atsumu).
And, oh Lord: what was that deafening silence with which everyone was looking at them? Looking with hopeful eyes and pleading beyond. Yes, because Kiyoomi could not know that their teammates were tired of their sexual tension that made sparks and hoped that he could finally let out.
And what about the equally hopeful look of Atsumu, that imaginary tail he wagging his tail, who was waiting for a signal to act?
Hunted in a trap, Kiyoomi firmly and firmly took the flaps of Atsumu’s shirt and drew him to himself, printing a kiss on his lips, which was greeted with a roar of applause and whistles.
Only a few moments later, as they went out to get some fresh air and, above all, to get away from that comari’s thrill, Atsumu, in silence, observed the blush that had settled on Kiyoomi’s cheeks. Deciding at that moment that was his favorite view of Kiyoomi.
- Atsumu. - Kiyoomi called him so sweetly that the lifter thought he never wanted to hear his name from another person’s lips again. He had never heard Kiyoomi say his full name before and you decided that he would never be the same again after understanding how he sounded.
Looking into Kiyoomi’s eyes, once again lost in their darkness, Kiyoomi’s index finger fell under his chin to make him lift his face.
He couldn’t help but shudder, looking at Kiyoomi, his heart beating hard in his chest. The finger touched his chin until all his hand caressed his cheek, and Atsumu thought that if he tried to speak he would certainly vomit, Then he let himself be carried away by the hands in which he trusted almost more than his own and put his lips on those he had long dreamed of.
Kiyoomi’s lips were soft, thought Atsumu as his brain started working again, sliding one hand between the curls of the other, thinking that was it. Everything you’ve been waiting for.
He felt Kiyoomi’s left hand fit perfectly to the lower part of his back and could not help but hold him again, kissing him with all the passion that had repressed. He tried to communicate to Kiyoomi through that kiss how much he wanted it, and it seemed that Kiyoomi was doing the same.
Kiyoomi pulled back first, smiling as he leaned his forehead over Atsumu’s, swaying his face with his hands and rubbing his cheekbones with his thumbs.
- You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this. - whispered Kiyoomi and Atsumu would like to faint.
- I think I know, Omi. - said Atsumu, laughing - It must be the same wish that I had too. - His heart was so full that he thought it might burst and when Kiyoomi hugged him and stuck his head in the socket of Atsumu’s neck, despite being slightly taller than him, Atsumu thought it had happened. That he died and went straight to heaven or something.
They finally decided to return to the party, greeted with cheers and cries of joy. The money from the bets they won passed around, along with congratulations and phrases from their teammates that make a big talk about how annoying their longing had become.
Shoyo smiled at Atsumu, telling him that his plan had worked out in the end.
Kiyoomi thought that Napoleon was right when he said "from the enemies I look at me, from the friends I look to God", while he held Atsumu close to him, after he had passed an arm around his side.
- Merry Christmas, Omi. -
- Merry Christmas, Atsumu. -