Work Text:
Atsumu Miya is loud, irritating, always starting fights, and never shutting up.
At least, that’s how he usually is.
Lately, something’s been off.
During practice, Atsumu would randomly grin at nothing, eyes glued to his phone whenever he thought no one was watching. His mood was suspiciously good with no unnecessary yelling, no picking fights, no insults thrown for fun. On weekends, he was always busy. Either going out or locked in long phone calls, voice unusually soft.
Osamu hated to admit it, but he was worried.
This was his twin brother. He knew Atsumu better than anyone. And this? This was not normal.
“Did ya see him?!” Osamu finally snaps one afternoon, slamming his hands on the table. “Ya all know damn well this ain’t normal!”
Kita raises an eyebrow, calm as ever. “Osamu, your brother can be relaxed sometimes.”
“No cap,” Suna cuts in, arms crossed. “I agree with him. Atsumu’s been acting weird.”
Aran sighs and rubs his neck. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Atsumu got a girlfriend.”
The room explodes.
“Like he could get a girl?!” Ginjima howls.
“As if bruh.”
“There’s no way that dweeb has game!”
Akagi hesitates before quietly adding, “But—what if he’s right?”
Everyone freezes.
“He did not get a girlfriend before me,” someone mutters in disbelief.
Kita clears his throat. “If it bothers you all that much, why not just ask him?”
Aran grimaces. “Kita-san… he would never tell us. If he wanted us to know, we’d already know.”
Osamu goes quiet. Thinking. Then—
“I got it!” He slams his fist into his palm. “Tsumu’s been going out every weekend, yeah? Let’s follow him.”
“Are ya insane?” Omimi says immediately. “That’s creepy.”
“We’re concerned,” Osamu fires back.
Suna smirks. “Honestly? I’m in. We won’t learn anything if we do nothing.”
“…I agree.”
“Same.”
Kita exhales slowly. “…Just don’t let him notice.”
And so, the worst idea Inarizaki has ever had is officially approved.
—
Atsumu had been waiting for this day ever since their last FaceTime call.
It had only been a few days since he last saw Omi-omi, but it felt like forever. He missed him, his voice, his expressions, the way he complained while still indulging Atsumu anyway. They’d planned to meet at a café over the weekend, and Atsumu woke up that morning buzzing with excitement.
He got ready faster than he ever had in his life.
As he rushed out the door, he yelled, “I’m off!” not bothering to wait for a response. Atsumu practically sprinted the entire way, refusing to waste a single second more without seeing him.
It was funny, really.
When they first met at the youth training camp, Atsumu couldn’t stand Sakusa Kiyoomi.
Curly-haired jerk. Rude. Distant. Their first interaction had turned into an argument almost immediately, great first impression. But no matter how much Atsumu complained, he couldn’t stop thinking about him. About his dark curls, the moles scattered across his face, the sharp eyes and even sharper tongue.
Sakusa Kiyoomi was infuriatingly handsome.
And Atsumu Miya was, unfortunately, incredibly weak.
After days of tension thick enough to choke on, Atsumu finally decided he needed to say something.
“Hey,” he’d started awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Ya know our first meetin’ wasn’t the best.” He grimaced. “But I don’t hate ya.”
Sakusa had blinked, clearly caught off guard.
“I just wanted to clear things up,” Atsumu added, quieter now.
“Well,” Sakusa replied after a pause, lips curling into a small grin, “you’re not so bad yourself, Miya.”
Miya Atsumu was absolutely fucked.
After that, they still argued, but it changed. It wasn’t sharp anymore. It was teasing. Challenging. Almost… flirtatious. Atsumu didn’t want to assume anything, though. Nothing would be more humiliating than finding out he was imagining it all.
But honestly? He was starting to think he wasn’t delusional.
Sakusa let him stand way too close. Let him linger in his space. He even allowed Atsumu to call him Omi-omi. Sure, he complained every time, but he never actually told him to stop.
That had to mean something, right?
Eventually, Atsumu’s suspicions were confirmed.
They’d been sent to the back storage closet after their bickering got on the coach’s last nerve. “Cool off,” he’d said, shoving them inside and slamming the door shut.
Sakusa muttered about how stupid it was, but Atsumu barely heard him.
Time felt frozen.
All Atsumu could see was Sakusa Kiyoomi standing in front of him. His chest felt tight, his heart racing in a way he’d never experienced before. He didn’t even know it was possible to feel like this, so overwhelming, so consuming.
He was completely, maddeningly in love.
Sakusa stopped talking when he noticed Atsumu staring.
“Miya?” he asked, stepping closer. “Are you alright?”
Atsumu was most definitely not alright. In fact, he was experiencing the worst gay panic of his entire life.
His legs gave out.
In his panic, he stumbled forward, dragging Sakusa down with him. They landed in a tangled mess on the floor, far too close, breath mingling, eyes locked.
Neither of them moved.
Sakusa slowly reached up and pulled his mask down.
And that was it.
They leaned in at the same time, lips meeting in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was gentle, every unspoken feeling pouring into that single moment. Atsumu felt like he’d reached heaven.
They pulled apart slowly.
“Sooo,” Atsumu said, a smirk tugging at his lips despite his racing heart, “guess ya like me, huh, Omi-omi?”
“Oh, shut up, Atsumu,” Sakusa replied, grinning.
Atsumu froze.
Sakusa had used his given name.
Heat rushed to his face as he looked away, but only for a second. When their eyes met again, they both burst out laughing, after, they leaned in for another kiss, this one more confident, more certain.
And the rest is history.
—
The Inarizaki team had been quietly following Atsumu ever since he left the house.
Well—quietly was a generous term.
They were crammed awkwardly behind a planter across the street from a small café, watching Atsumu sit alone at an outdoor table. He checked his phone every few seconds, smiling to himself like an idiot.
Honestly, they were starting to get bored.
“How long is he gonna sit there?” Ginjima mutters. “This is a waste of time.”
Just then, Osamu stiffens. “Oi guys. Someone’s coming.”
They all snap to attention.
A tall man with black, curly hair walks up to Atsumu’s table. Atsumu’s face lights up instantly, standing so fast his chair nearly tips over.
And then—
He kisses him.
Right there. In public. No hesitation.
Osamu feels his soul leave his body.
“…What the fuck,” Suna says flatly.
“He’s gay?!” someone whispers a little too loudly.
Kita, the only one still capable of rational thought, squints at the newcomer. “…That guy looks familiar.”
Aran’s eyes widen in horror. “No way. That’s— That’s Sakusa Kiyoomi.”
Silence.
Then—
“WHAT?!”
“The Sakusa Kiyoomi?!”
“As in the Itachiyama player?!”
The team collectively malfunctions.
Atsumu Miya being gay? Okay. In hindsight? Not shocking.
But Atsumu Miya dating Sakusa Kiyoomi—one of the top three spikers in the country?
Osamu clutches his head. “There is no way. Tsumu complained about that guy daily during training camp! Said he was insufferable!”
While Inarizaki spirals, Sakusa’s eyes flick past Atsumu.
He pauses.
“…Atsumu,” he says carefully, “is that your team?”
Atsumu frowns. “Huh? Why would my team be here?”
Sakusa looks unconvinced.
Atsumu waves it off, grinning. “You’re imaginin’ things. Anyways! Aren’t ya more excited to see your wonderful boyfriend?”
That’s when they hear it.
A very distinct, very loud gasp.
Both of them turn.
Standing just outside the café—no longer hiding at all—is the entire Inarizaki volleyball team.
“…What the hell are you guys doing here?” Atsumu snaps, face flushing red. “Did ya seriously follow me?!”
Everyone gulps.
“It was Osamu’s idea!”
“HEY—you all agreed!”
“Samu, what is wrong with ya?!”
Osamu points back furiously. “Hey, it’s yer fault for bein’ all weird lately! Besides, you’re the one who needs to explain!”
“What are ya doin’ smoochin’ Sakusa Kiyoomi, ya bastard?!”
Atsumu’s brain short-circuits. “W—what?! You guys saw that too?!”
“Yeah, we were—”
“Enough.”
Sakusa steps forward, voice calm but firm. The arguing dies immediately.
“I don’t know why you followed Atsumu,” he says, eyes scanning the group, “but I’ll take this opportunity to introduce myself.”
Atsumu stares at him, stunned. Maybe a little awed.
Sakusa adjusts his mask, then speaks clearly.
“I’m Sakusa Kiyoomi,” he says. “Atsumu’s… boyfriend.”
Dead silence.
Then—
Osamu collapses to his knees.
Suna is absolutely losing it.
Kita just nods once. “…I see.”
Atsumu groans and covers his face. “Kill me now.”
Sakusa, however, reaches over and casually intertwines their fingers.
And somehow, that makes everything worse.
—
Years later, all of them still laughed whenever the story came up.
“Wow,” Atsumu said, throwing his head back dramatically, “thinkin’ back, that was a crazy way for you idiots to find out we were datin’, huh?”
He was older now and calmer somehow—but still unmistakably Atsumu Miya. An MSBY Black Jackal setter, sitting comfortably beside his fiancée, Sakusa Kiyoomi.
They were gathered at Onigiri Miya, the familiar shop warm and bustling as Atsumu animatedly retold the story to their teammates. Hinata leaned forward like he was hearing a legend, eyes sparkling, while Bokuto listened with exaggerated gasps.
“Wow, Omi-kun!” Hinata said, grinning. “You really had guts back then!”
Sakusa hummed, unimpressed. “I was just being honest.”
Bokuto slapped the counter. “I KNEW IT! You were cool even back then, Omi!”
From the back of the shop, Osamu emerged with a sigh, arms crossed. “Ya lot wouldn’t believe how shocked I was that day. I swear my heart rate’s never spiked that fast before—or since.”
Atsumu laughed. “Oh please, ya were dramatic.”
“I had to watch my twin kiss Sakusa Kiyoomi outta nowhere,” Osamu deadpanned. “That changes a man.”
Sakusa glanced at Atsumu, their shoulders brushing. “You were loud,” he said.
Atsumu grinned. “And ya still fell for me.”
Sakusa didn’t deny it.
—
Later that night, the apartment they shared was quiet.
Their place wasn’t fancy—but it felt unmistakably like home. Atsumu kicked off his shoes at the door and flopped onto the couch, groaning dramatically.
“Practice killed me today,” he complained.
“You say that every day,” Sakusa replied, placing their keys on the counter before heading to the kitchen.
“Yeah, and every day it’s true.”
Sakusa rolled his eyes but still started preparing dinner, moving around the kitchen with practiced ease. Atsumu watched him for a moment before wandering over, leaning against the counter.
“Need help?” Atsumu asked.
“You’ll make it worse.”
“Rude.”
Despite his words, Sakusa slid a finished onigiri toward him. Atsumu brightened instantly.
“See, ya do love me.”
Sakusa huffed. “Eat.”
They settled into their usual routine—quiet, comfortable, easy. Atsumu sprawled across the couch afterward, head resting in Sakusa’s lap while Sakusa scrolled through his phone, absentmindedly running his fingers through Atsumu’s hair.
“Ya ever think about how wild it was?” Atsumu murmured. “Back then?”
Sakusa paused. “…Sometimes.”
Atsumu smiled softly, eyes half-lidded. “Kinda glad they followed me.”
Sakusa snorted. “I’m not.”
Atsumu laughed, reaching up to lace their fingers together. “Yeah, yeah. Still worked out pretty well, didn’t it?”
Sakusa looked down at him, expression gentle.
“It did.”
The apartment settled into silence again—warm, familiar, filled with the quiet certainty that some things, once found, were never meant to be lost.
THE END.