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When she arrived at the party and Akaashi expressively said the pool was off-limits, she should’ve expected that request would not be obeyed for long.
There’s a handful of things that being Atsumu’s designated best friend puts on one’s resume, and the most important of them all is: if one is drunk, the other is trusted to make the smart calls. Since Atsumu was late, again, it only meant her responsibility was over someone else that was left unattended that night.
That’s why she was now far away from where the music was coming from, her foot tapping on the wet floor while others were dancing behind her. She stands by the pool border, crosses her arms and waits for Bokuto to take his bangs out of his eyes and finally look up at her.
“Oh, hey! I was-” he starts when finally noticing she was there. The next second, she feels another calmer presence next to her, immediately followed by Bokuro’s silence, eyes nervously shifting to her side, and then a softer, “hey ‘kashi.”
“What did I tell you?” He asks, mimicking her stance as they both stare down at their friend, soaked and looking like a child being scolded.
To his credit, he manages to laugh nervously before trying to come up with a lie, but he does it without realizing she’s the one person that lame excuses would never work for, so she senses if before he can even start and leans over. “Who dared you?”
He sighs, “Konoha,” confessing with no reluctancy.
“There,” her eyes find Akaashi again, and she notices the way he sighs in relief, almost as if she prevented him from the mistake of accepting Bokuto’s excuse. He has always been weaker than her in these moments, probably because it felt like intense training dealing with Atsumu’s shenanigans everyday for years now.
One of her favorite songs starts playing on the back, still far away from her, and she groans, eyes back at the pool while she waves her hand. “Okay, do you need help to get out? Akaashi said-”
She wonders if it’s fate. How the song beats gets faster only for it to drop with all the annoyance inside her as soon as a hand hooks on the strap of her dress and pulls her away from the pool until her back hits someone’s chest, way higher than hers.
There is a group of drunk people behind them, so anything like that would make her snap and punch the person’s face as a response. But the way his fingertips push the tied ends of her hair to the side and brush against her nape before pulling her back is enough for her to recognize who was doing it; and if that wasn’t the case, his breath against her neck and the quick kiss against her jaw also do the job of convincing her.
Atsumu’s timing is always unpredictable, but he never was.
“That’s your record,” she says, eyes not shifting from the pool to not give him the satisfaction, even if her breath does get caught in her throat and he clearly feels it with how close he is.
“Come on,” he nudged her head with his, his forehead against her temple and leans forward so his chest is pressing against her shoulder blades and his neck doesn’t hurt from trying to stare at her face. “Thought you said you liked my dramatic arrivals.”
“Oh God, you really did hung up on that, didn’t you?” She finally turns her face to the side and watches as he rests his cheek against her shoulder, both dimples still so apparent despite the lack of light. “Turns out it loses the sparkle after a year of being friends with you, who would know,” he furrows, lips pressed in a thin line, and she’s glad for the vanishing of the smiling lines on his cheek until he doesn’t seem to keep the facade for long.
“How sweet,” he says, his lips twisting to the side in an annoyed expression as his eyebrows shift up, intrigued, almost challenging, like everything Atsumu ever did, “got anymore where that came from or are we good?”
Bokuto and Akaashi share a smile. She sees it by the corner of her eye with the way her friend doesn’t move to get out of the pool and the other doesn’t press; both apparently not wanting to disturb whatever was happening between the both of them.
Unfortunately, Atsumu catches the second her attention strays from him and leans more of his weight against her back, making her take a step forward to support the both of them and immediately shoot her head to him again. He smiles and she feels the dimples against her shoulder, his muscles flexing against her back, and it’s definitely a lot.
“Have you been drinking without me?” She asks, trying to gather how drunk he was.
Atsumu shakes his head and she notices his hand going up by her other side, lifting a half full bottle on his hand. “Just this,” he pressed the cold glass against her arm, “I wouldn’t dare properly start without you.”
She knows Atsumu’s terrible taste for beer, but she takes it in her hand and drinks the rest of the liquid there. Despite being surprised, Atsumu doesn’t move nor takes his face from its rightful place, too hypnotized by the way her throat moved while swallowing the liquid, and it makes him realize he probably should’ve taken at least three different drinks before approaching her. He was far too sober for that.
“Take it slow tonight,” she changes the bottle to the other hand and shakes it empty now closer to his face, “you both acting like you don’t have practice in the morning.”
He changes to support his chin instead against her shoulder, forcing his gaze to stare down at Bokuto while taking the glass from her and holding it behind his back with both hands, to prevent them from resting anywhere else.
“No worries, the coach cancelled tomorrow too.” Bokuto says, crossing both arms on the pool’s edge and supporting his head in his hand.
By the corner of his eyes, Atsumu can see how her own go between him and their friends before stopping at the pool again, “so you didn’t have practice today?” Bokuto shakes his head and it immediately makes her move from under Atsumu. “So you weren’t in practice just now?”
Technically, he went and practiced either way. Firstly because he didn’t get the coach’s notice in time and went, second because Hinata is restless and was already training so Atsumu didn’t have the heart to leave his poor friend alone.
Not the first time this ever happened, but that wasn’t what went wrong. The blond mistake was really talking to him over practice, asking what got to his head on that day, and seeing the Hinata take advantage of just the two of them alone to tell the story about how he was spending so much time away from his partner; how being in a distant relationship sucks and how lucky Atsumu is.
It took a while for him to understand what that meant, and even more to convince Hinata she wasn’t his girlfriend — which he is not yet sure he accepted, but it led to the second mistake of that day: encouraging said friend in giving advice.
Hinata says he should be prepared, that he regrets not having anything in his hands when he blurted out his confession — accidentally, too overwhelmed by feelings and totally unprepared — and that he wouldn’t let that happen to Atsumu, if he could help, so they spend the rest of the day listing all the gift shops around campus.
That night thought, after all that, she looks at Atsumu, gives a step back to distance her shoulder from him, asks “You’re here with someone tonight, aren’t you?” And that makes him realize he wouldn’t ever be prepared enough for her.
It sets his heart rate on a quicker pace when he panics for a second, scoffind and stepping closer to her, as if he wanted to close that gap again, “don’t act like it happens often,” because it doesn’t, and if she couldn’t see that, he’s afraid no one could.
He watches her pushing his hand that was reaching for her and fully furrows his eyebrows. “Stop, Atsumu. They will get the wrong impression,” her voice is suddenly so serious he doesn’t notice both Akaashi and Bokuto taking a step back.
“No one is getting any impression,” they both walk together, her a step back again when he reaches for her hand, now both fully facing each other. “I’m not with anyone.”
“Where were you, then?” She crosses her arms, annoyed at herself for sounding like something she isn’t and has no rights to be. It’s Atsumu, however, the one standing in front of her, so she knows it would need a lot more than that to push him away.
As proof of her point, Atsumu takes a step forward with his unbearable grin across his face.
“Why do you wanna know?” Another step forward, his damn cologne overwhelmingly closes again.
“To understand why you’re hiding something from me,” I thought we were friends, she was about to add, but Atsumu changes the bootle from one hand to the other, freeing his dominant one so it’s easy to grasp at her forearm when she instantly gives a step back too, and it suddenly doesn’t seem like she should add a lie on top of another.
The look on her friend’s face translates perfectly to the fact that he noticed her jealousy: the grin wider, snaggleteeth pointing out from that perfect smile he flashes everybody when he knows he's right. She didn’t want to give him more reasons to believe that.
He gives a tentative step forward, “I told you, I was practicing with Hinata.” He says, but her eyes are already not focusing on his anymore as she scans behind him, looking for something Atsumu already denied in the first place. Oblivious to a fault. It guides his hands to her own while he searches for her gaze again, suddenly feeling distant, “hey, looking a little lost there.”
Her eyes stop roaming to stare back at him, furrowed eyebrows and a strange feeling in her stomach that doesn't seem to stop even when he jokes with her. It probably would help if he wasn’t the one causing it.
It’s known that Atsumu is a bad liar, and she prides herself in being able to read him most days. It’s worse, then, when he seems to be hiding something and she can’t see past him.
Two oblivious friends, that’s what they have always been. Atsumu complains about it, but he doesn’t see how truly lost she looks when he continues joking, “need help finding something?” He asks, his tone amused. He’s worried about the tension she was feeling, but blind enough to not understand that just dropping this facade should be enough to fix it.
In the end, they were both tired of having to hold themselves back to being friends, when in their hearts, it seemed like that word had lost its meaning months ago.
She pushes his arm back, tired of that same touch he always gave her, not changing anything. His hand follows hers back, tired of not being able to hold her all day. Just utterly exhausted, both of them, and unable to realize they are both by the edge of the pool until one of her heels stumbles against it.
Atsumu is fast enough to reach for her in time, but too unprepared to support the both of them steadily. Before they know, everything is turning and the sound of their bodies falling into the water is far louder than the music playing inside.
It’s funny for about a whole minute. Atsumu emerges from the water laughing, his eyes focused outside only to notice Akaashi pushing Bokuto inside and closing the door behind them before anyone else could entertain the idea of a midnight dive. He knows his friends and how neither of them could pass this opportunity.
The door closes while he still laughs, but a second later his eyes are back at his best friend; hair all over her face, a mess, eye’s finding his own scanning her, and he realizes that her light colored dress, most definitely, isn't made to be soaked like it’s now.
He snaps his eyes back up to her face, hearing his heart slamming against his chest.
“Out,” a serious order, that despite his need to show that, leaves his lips like a whisper.
They aren’t really making eye contact but he can tell, by her pause, that her gaze shifted drastically to even more annoyed. “What?” She asks, tone higher than before, and it makes him feel worse that he doesn’t even care about how pissed she was or how his shirt was uncomfortably clinging to his body. He had an more important mission to fulfill that included not ogling his best friend.
“You heard me,” he says, realizing her face definitely isn’t escapism enough and forcing his eyes to the door Akaashi closed a few seconds ago. Praying someone, anyone, would walk in and distract him more than she was doing.
“Oh, I’m sorry, darling. Are you not having fun anymore?” He can only hear her sarcastic tone, but in the corner of his eyes, he sees her fixing her hair away from her face, pulling the straps of her dress up, and his gaze still just doesn't feel far enough. So instead, he watches the way her scrunchie floats closer to him and forces his eyes to overanalyze that accessory. “God, you’re so annoying,” she scoffs, still oblivious, and it snaps him properly.
The next thing he does is calling her name, slamming his hand above the water to grasp at that scrunchie for dear life, as if that alone was the only grip he had to reality. He turns to face her, immediately catching her gaze, and Atsumu thinks this might be the bravest thing he has done all night. “I said get out,” he repeats, but half his breath gets stuck in his throat when she takes a step closer to him, their gaze meeting.
“Are you ordering me around?” She asks, and the tone and expression all seem like a challenge. Her eyes seem to be piercing his own, burning the inside of his skull with intensity as she stomps closer, the water moving everywhere.
All Atsumu finds himself able to do is take a step back.
“I’m asking you,” he says, though begging is definitely the right word when he adds, “you are- too much. Get out, go change, please.”
The water around her stops moving with her as soon as she recognizes his gaze. Atsumu stands closer to the pool wall, his hands behind him gripping the edge for dear life, and still; his eyes translated to nothing but strange longing. It’s entirely new, to her eyes even if he has been hiding it for a while, and it weighs so heavy over her she almost feels the water drowning her.
“Where were you?” She asks, one more time.
Atsumu swallows down the knot in his throat, “with Hinata, I told you.”
“All afternoon?”
If he wasn’t focusing so much on her face, he would’ve missed the small twitch her lips make before it tugs to a small smile. It both makes him more nervous and relieved. “All afternoon,” it takes one step from her for him to turn into a rambling mess. “You know, for someone worried about other’s getting the wrong impression you aren’t helping your case,” he starts, trying to slow down the words from tumbling over the other, “seem too worried about my day for-”
“Is it?” She asks, now lower than before once she gets close enough. “Is it the wrong impression?”
Atsumu feels the hem of her dress under the water and he grips onto the pool edge harder, already feeling his knees close to give up. There’s just too much of her. He thinks this might be the closest he could get to overwhelmed because suddenly all his senses are reaching for even an inch of her. His knuckles go white.
He’s not strong enough, however, to keep his eyes over her own, so they drop, “you tell me,” he says, begging once again.
His eyes flutter up to her lips, a grin growing there for a second before he watches it say, “dumbass,” in the sweetest tone she has spoken to him all night. His eyes find hers instantly, checking, making sure it translates just the same as he heard. “Is this what you want?”
Atsumu blinks, about three times, before whispering, “you have no idea.”
“You better start telling me, then.” She smiles, tilting her head to the side, and he thinks it’s definitely on purpose now, “I’m tired of guessing what’s on your mind.”
Since the first day they met, she learned Atsumu is bad with words. He can’t charm people as much as he believes he can, he mutters when he’s annoyed and starts rambling when he’s overconfident. He has his moments, but very few are accompanied by eloquence or even transparency.
As annoying as that also could be, Atsumu’s charm was always hidden behind his actions.
She receives this reminder when he shakes his head, a small smile forming over his lips and the sound of her scrunchie snapping on his wrist when he pushes it on his forearm to free his hand. The next thing she knows is that she's lifted from the water and put by the edge of the pool in one switch movement. He doesn’t move from inside though, his body between her legs when he pulls them apart, his own back now turned to whatever could be happening in the house behind them.
Atsumu makes sure he’s covering enough of her from the door if it was ever open again, hands not moving from where he grabbed in first place, the pool of her dress all messy on her lap, and his eyes much more anchored in her own now that he could feel her skin against his own.
“You’re the only thing in my mind now,” he says, almost quietly. It seems like something that slipped out of his subconscious, because she doubts he would have come up with that if he was really trying.
After months, soaked from head to toe, a mess of everything around them, in a pool that was off-limits for the entire night; she realizes this is the most Atsumu she has ever seen in him. Her stomach flutters, her heart skips a beat, she feels addicted already.
“I like it there,” she smiled, sliding closer to the edge as if he was pulling her himself, “mind if I stayed?”
Atsumu chuckles quietly, she feels his grasp twitching and then,“I’m used to it,” stepping as close as he could.
Her hands find his forearms in response, grasping at the scrunchie to pull his arm higher, “not a one night thing then?” She asks, to make sure they were on the same page.
With the way his grip twists on her, pulling her thighs closer to the edge so he could feel her body against his, and how his eyes lifted up to look at her own; she realizes that not even Atsumu could hide himself behind so much warmth.
He wants to respond, she knows it because he opens his lips to say it. Unfortunately, her hands cups his face before that, and he’s far too gone to utter any more sounds besides a low groan that connects their lips together, finally.
She smiles next, as does he, teeth clashing when they laugh between each other lips and gasp for air by the way his hands keep tugging at her dress and pulling her closer.
The water is cold, especially after the door snaps open and about half a dozen people jump into the pools with them, sending droplets everywhere. Atsumu is warm, as always, when he circles both arms around her to cover her body, not ready to distance his face yet.
She knows that, one moment or another, she will have to look at Akaashi’s unimpressed face and ask for a towel. That they both should stop, get inside, and not act like two teenagers who just discovered what kissing feels like.
It’s new, though. The way Atsumu feels against her lips, as if he for once was focused on something and nothing else deserved his attention just as much. He leans over her, pulling her body closer despite going in the opposite directions, and she accepts that all that can wait. Enough time has been wasted, and Atsumu makes a valid point, for once, by sliding his hands down your legs and hooking both your feet behind his back.
She does the same, willingly, with her hands around his neck to pull him closer, realizing they are on the same page again when he lifts her from the floor and starts walking towards the stairs. He climbs it with ease despite almost being distracted by the way her laugh sounds next to his ears.
Almost, solely because he knows he will be hearing that self-same laugh all night, and every single day from now on before falling asleep, if he doesn’t mess up too badly this time.
One grasp of hers on his neck, pulling him closer to leave a kiss against his temple, is enough to clear his mind of any stray thought, guide him more clearly away from the crowd and back into a world of their own.