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"Tired, Omi?"
God, he is. He can feel it like sand behind his eyeballs, a heavy lethargy in his limbs and a tingling sensation all across his skin. They had a long practice and a longer game, Raijin's tenacious defense drawing the sets out again and again. He can barely even remember his room number, and hits a few elevator buttons at random before landing on the right one.
Atsumu chuckles behind him. "Damn, pretty bad then."
He doesn't even have the energy to scowl over his shoulder. Atsumu knows perfectly well how dysfunctional he can get.
Playing volleyball with your partner… it's not without its drawbacks. You're never alone, for one. You have to be comfortable with eating, sleeping, breathing, and working together, day in day out. Atsumu can be a handful, but when they try to give each other space, the team asks what's wrong, are they fighting? No, but they will be soon, if no one can leave them the fuck alone.
But, the benefits more than outweigh the drawbacks. For example—Atsumu gently working the keycard out of his trembling fingers, and unlocking the hotel room door.
Kiyoomi has gotten used to the reality that he will sleep in a hotel bed as often as not during the season. It's unavoidable. It's not his favorite thing in the world, but he can deal, he has his process to manage it.
Only, that process usually involves a hot shower, and he's swaying on his feet.
He doesn't know how to ask. This thing they've got… it's been long enough that he's confident they're in a relationship, that Atsumu wants to be here and he's committed, but… not so long that they know each other inside and out. They've never showered together, possibly because Kiyoomi likes it blistering hot, but also because Atsumu seems to respect that taking a shower is a reset for him, a moment to himself that he otherwise wouldn't get.
He doesn't know how to open the door, so to speak. This isn't as easy as it was to start sharing a bed—all he had to do was turn down the blanket, and Atsumu came running.
Well… maybe it would be that simple after all.
"You go on, Omi," Atsumu's saying, moving into the room to set their bags down and grab a room service menu.
He moves into the bathroom, and just… leaves the door open. Not wide, but enough to be deliberate. That he wasn't just too tired to close it properly.
He might be too tired to get his shirt off without falling over, though.
It's stuck over his head when one warm hand catches him around the waist, while the other… the other helps free him from the cotton clutches.
"Do ya just need help undressin' or ya want me in there, Omi?" Atsumu asks, his tone low and gentle. Kiyoomi sways towards it, aching with the promise of comfort.
"In," is all he says, and starts pawing at his pants, clumsy and stupid until Atsumu saves him again.
"Look, I'm gonna go turn the water on. You step outta these, okay? Hold that counter if ya hafta."
Kiyoomi does just that, clinging to the marble with both hands as the water starts behind him. It takes a few tries to get his feet free of pants and underwear, then he stares in disbelief at his socks, unable to comprehend their existence.
"Yer a big baby. Go on, turn around," and he helps Kiyoomi park his butt against the sink, then takes his feet one at a time to free them from their prisons.
"You're good at this," Kiyoomi mumbles.
"Comes with the big brother package. All right, stay there a sec while I catch up." Atsumu tests the water, winces, then strips out of his clothes fast enough that Kiyoomi's head spins.
So, probably a normal speed, honestly.
Once he's naked, Atsumu guides Kiyoomi under the appropriately-scalding water, and he lets out a sigh like all the tension in the world is being rinsed out of him.
"That's a good noise," Atsumu murmurs, smiling. He slides in behind, only making a little bit of a face about the temperature, but his arm stays steady around Kiyoomi's waist. "I've gotcha."
And he did. He did indeed have him. When Kiyoomi starts swaying again, he takes a step forward, lets him lean back against his chest and keeps him steady. When he paws at the soap, Atsumu takes it and just starts washing him, methodical and slow, getting every last inch and making sure it's scrubbed clean.
He's in no state to be thinking this. And it's far too early, he can't possibly know just yet. But maybe, when Kiyoomi looks back someday, he'll remember that this was the first time he saw Atsumu and thought, 'Oh. I'm in love with him.'
His hair needs more work than he can reasonably communicate how to do, so he just shakes his head when Atsumu asks where the shampoo is. His curls will survive getting wet and drying back out, give or take some frizz. No, he just wanted to get clean, and instead he's being pampered, and it's doing things to him.
Atsumu leans him against the cold wall to wash his own body, ignoring the protesting burble of noise from Kiyoomi as it makes him shiver. Still, better that than trying to support himself on legs that tremble, to say nothing of his knees or ankles trying to have opinions. Luckily, it's not long before Atsumu finishes up, and rolls them both out to dry.
Kiyoomi mostly just wraps the towel around his shoulders and shivers until Atsumu grabs the ends and pulls him closer, scrubbing him dry. "Yer lucky yer cute, Omi-Omi," he says, and drops down to dry his legs, feet, under his balls and the curve of his ass. Kiyoomi just watches, blinking slowly.
"…You think I'm cute?" He can taste the fuzz of exhaustion in his mouth, making his words slur together, but not so much that Atsumu can't understand it. Unfortunately.
"I think yer real fuckin' cute," he says, pushing back up to his feet. "Especially when yer tired like this. I just wanna… ah, never mind." He runs a hand through his own mostly-dry hair.
Kiyoomi slowly drapes the towel on his head and scrunches it, to dry his curls. "Just wanna…?"
Atsumu clears his throat. "…It makes me wanna take care'a you, that's all. C'mon, let's get ya horizontal."
He lets himself be led back out, helped into a pair of sweats and a soft henley that Kiyoomi's extremely slow brain still processes as being Atsumu's. He doesn't protest, though, not when the fabric is soft and worn and it smells like Atsumu's detergent. Then he's being tucked into the bed, pillows stuffed around his body just the way he likes it.
"Wait," Kiyoomi mumbles. He knows Atsumu's not going to sleep yet, it's hours to bedtime and Atsumu always gets hungry after a match. He holds up an arm. "Kiss?"
He gets to watch as Atsumu's whole face crumples into a beautifully sweet smile, delight in the creases of his eyes, like he can't help it. He immediately leans in, one knee denting the mattress, to push in close and bump their noses together before sealing their lips in a gentle, warm kiss.
"That enough?" he teases, brushing his thumb along Kiyoomi's jaw.
"Never," he mutters sleepily. "But ok. For now." It's about as coherent as he's going to get right now.
Atsumu's laugh is a soft chuckle across his face, and before he pulls away—as Kiyoomi already starts drifting off—he could swore he heard him say something that started with 'Love' and ended with 'you'.