Work Text:
Atsumu awoke with a hitch in his breath as the first rays of blinding sunlight slipped into his hotel room. He scanned the space around him in search of an alarm clock and wanted to scream into the pillow when it displayed 4:35 AM, meaning that after the flight, he’d only managed to sleep for three hours.
So much for blackout curtains.
His face twisted into a deep frown at the realization that it was his last true day off with no match, no practice or press conference and he couldn't even get a full night of sleep. Just his luck.
He put a pillow over his head, turning his face away from the window and hoping to somehow chase down the last remnants of his dreams but his arm was numb, his mouth was dry and the sweat stuck to him like glue.
Yeah, there was no fucking way he was gonna fall back asleep like this.
Deciding to at least do something about his sorry state now that proper rest was out of the equation, Atsumu stirred lightly and remembered just why he couldn't feel his arm: Shōyō was currently sound asleep, using him as a pillow, with his own somehow forgotten in the corner across the room, right by the closet. Atsumu practically held his breath, finding himself enjoying the way his partner’s quiet snores managed to tickle his bare skin (even with all the saliva drooled over his chest).
He was gonna have to stay like this for a while.
Shōyō was practically dead on his feet while getting into their hotel room after the red-eye flight, opting to slip into one of Atsumu’s ratty t-shirts instead of unpacking pyjamas out of his own suitcase; which meant that his sweet, radiant, ever-optimistic hurricane of a boyfriend known as The Hinata Shōyō, was now smelling like Atsumu’s cologne.
Atsumu would be lying if he said that fact had no effect on him.
He held his breath, trying to move as little as possible while reaching for his phone. Upon opening the front-facing camera he frowned with distaste at his reflection—face so pale he almost disappeared into the sheets and eyebags deep enough to bury a body. Still, tucking his face into the other’s hair and just barely hiding a downright shit-eating grin, he wrapped one arm loosely around Shōyō’s frame and proceeded to snap a quick picture, immediately sending it to Osamu.
His phone instantly chimed to life, loud enough to almost make him throw it across the room. He looked to his boyfriend in a surge of panic, but somehow, Shōyō didn’t even stir, the only reaction being a very brief scrunching of his nose.
Letting out a small sigh of relief, Atsumu finally read the messages.
The knockoff: are you watching him sleep? Fucking creep
The knockoff: You landed in Japan?
Atsumu wasted no time to clarify that no, being in a loving relationship did not in fact equate to him being a creep and, just because Osamu was married to his job and chose to be a sourpuss about it, it did not give him the green light to be a petty bitch. (And yes, they did land safely.)
He muted his phone and simply tried again to let the time pass him by, focusing on the warmth and steady heartbeat at his side. Just like that, another hour trickled by, and at 5:45 AM, Atsumu’s face lit up at the telltale deep breath. He watched as Shōyō’s eyes fluttered open, and the yawn big enough that Atsumu often joked could swallow him whole, slowly shifted into a wide, lazy grin full of contentment and adoration. Though Shōyō’s face eclipsed the sun peeking through the window behind him, Atsumu felt the warmth of his sun all the same.
“Good morning handsome. How’d you sleep?” was all Shōyō had to say for Atsumu to silently pray in the back of his mind that whatever force had guided him through life thus far to allow for countless more mornings like this.