Chapter Text
When Atsumu first got the invitation to Aran and Kita’s wedding asking him to be a groomsman, he was over the moon. Like annoying, screaming it in everyone’s faces in the MSBY locker room-levels of over the moon. His best friend of two decades was getting married and he was going to be in the wedding party, a man’s allowed to be a little excited.
Atsumu, Osamu, and the rest of the wedding party were planning seating arrangements with the grooms when he made his first mistake.
“This place is perfect! See, we’ll definitely have enough space fer the plus ones! You had nothin’ to worry about, Aran!” He announced excitedly, looking at the ample space of the reception venue they had picked out.
“Surprised you even give a shit about the plus ones, considerin’ you don’t have one,” Osamu chided. Atsumu bristled and felt the waves of mistake number two building.
“Oh, shut yer trap!” Atsumu’s conscience practically begged his mouth to shut, “how would you know?” Atsumu retorted. And there was mistake number two. Osamu gave him the most unimpressed look he’d seen to date, which was saying a lot. Osamu is always unimpressed with Atsumu.
“So yer dating someone then?”
“That’s none of yer business!”
“Yer so full of shit, ‘Tsumu. Yer ass isn’t dating anyone and we both know it,” Aran laughed, as if his two cents were needed at all. Asshole.
“Just you wait and see, when I show up to the wedding with my partner yer all gonna be sorry!” He announced with a huff, crossing his arms like a petulant child as Osamu laughed in his face. That was mistake number three. He really needs to learn when to shut his mouth.
“Well, better make sure ya get those RSVPs out by the end of the week, Atsumu. I look forward to meetin’ yer partner,” Kita added with a gentle smile. Atsumu wasn't sure if he wants to curse or thank God for his existence.
The next day at practice, Atsumu decided he has three options: Shoyo, Bokuto, or Sakusa. He figured his best bet was to try his luck with Shoyo first.
“Hey, hey Shoyo! C’mere, I have a question for ya,” he called during his warmup stretches when he saw Shoyo make his way out of the locker room.
“Hi Atsumu-san! What’s up?”
“So I have this wedding to go to, you remember Aran and Kita? It’s theirs, and long story short I need a plus one. The wedding is at the end of October and I need the RSVPs in by the end of this week. So, what do ya say?” Atsumu asked hopefully, sending Shoyo what he hoped was his most disarming smile. He didn’t want to mention the whole fake-dating thing just yet. Better to beg for forgiveness and ask for permission, or whatever.
“Oh, Atsumu-san, that sounds like so much fun! I’m glad you thought of me!” Atsumu felt his hopes begin to soar, “But I’m so sorry, I’m going back to Miyagi that weekend to visit my old teammates. I’m so sorry!” And his hopes were crushed.
“No worries, Sho-kun, I get it. Thanks anyway,” he replied, trying not to let his pout show too much on his face.
Even though Shoyo couldn’t, surely Bokuto would accompany him, right? The man loves weddings and celebrations, it’d be right up his alley. During serving practice he decides to plant himself right next to him and pitches his plan.
“So, what do ya say?” Atsumu once again asked after giving Bokuto the lowdown, but felt his heart drop at the look on Bokuto’s face.
“Oh man, Tsum-Tsum I would love to, but Keiji and I are going to be in Tokyo visiting his family that weekend.”
Fuck Shoyo, fuck Bokuto, and fuck Oikawa.
Atsumu smiled despite the growing desperation and tells Bokuto that it’s no problem at all.
That just leaves Sakusa.
If Atsumu couldn’t get Shoyo or Bokuto to go, there was not a singular chance in hell he could convince Sakusa, but he was running out of options.
Due to Sakusa's particular nature and Atsumu's need to be the hottest person in any given room no matter the time or circumstance, they were both typically the last ones out of the locker room. That would be Atsumu's chance to corner him, but he was mistakenly unprepared for Sakusa to shut him down before he could even open his mouth after everyone left.
“No, Miya.”
“I haven’t even said anythin’ yet!”
“I heard you talking to Hinata and Bokuto, you’re going to try and get me to be your plus one for that wedding,” he paused, as if realizing something. “Why do you even need a plus one, anyway? Aren’t those typically optional?”
“I may or may not have implied that I have a partner and that I will be bringing them to the wedding,” Atsumu tried to reply as nonchalantly as possible, hoping his easy tone would put Sakusa at ease and get him to agree to join him. You know, like an idiot.
“So you decided to start with asking two people already in relationships?” Sakusa asked slowly, looking at Atsumu like he was the biggest idiot on the planet. Atsumu was about to retort, refusing to admit that he had in fact not considered their teammate’s relationship status, when Sakusa spoke up again. “Also, my answer is still no.”
Well, shit’s looking bleak. But Atsumu’s mom didn’t raise a quitter.
Atsumu and Sakusa began their walk back to the MSBY sharehouse, a routine that was unexpected but not unwelcome. Atsumu was almost surprised Sakusa even walked back with him after his failed attempt at getting him to be his fake boyfriend, but he wasn't complaining.
Atsumu filled the silence with endless chatter as he always does, talking about his improvements on his serves and where he thinks he could use work, and bouncing different strategies for future matches off Sakusa’s head who just nods or hums in response.
The sharehouse comes into view before Atsumu decided to try his luck again. Sakusa hasn’t pushed Atsumu into oncoming traffic yet, so he took that as a good sign.
“So I know you seem pretty dead-set on not joinin’ me, but I think it’d be fun! You an’ me, all dressed up and drinkin’ champagne and eatin’ good food… Osamu’ll be there so ya know the food’ll be good. And, it’ll be clean. You know Kita-san wouldn’t allow a dirty weddin’,” Atsumu began as chill as he could, resolutely keeping his eyes forward.
“Miya, that sounds like the opposite of a good time. Except for the good food part, I have to give it to Miya-san, his onigiri is probably the best I’ve had.”
Despite the beginning of Sakusa’s sentence, Atsumu felt his hopes skyrocket. He could work with this.
“I’ll be sure to pass on the message, I’m sure ‘Samu’ll be very pleased to hear he’s got yer stamp of approval.” Atsumu meant it. Osamu would definitely be thrilled to know he’s got MSBY’s pickiest starting player’s approval, especially since he specializes in food that is molded by another person's hands. “But that’s all the more reason to come! You’ll get to see ‘Samu, and I’m sure Aran’s planning on invitin’ Komori so it’s not like I’ll be the only person there that ya know,” Atsumu pressed, confident that the Komori card would get him. He’d never been more thankful that he ended up on a team with Suna, which is not a thought he’d ever imagined himself having.
“Is that supposed to be an incentive? Motoya’s a menace, tell Ojiro-san that he should save himself the stress and use that invitation on someone else,” Sakusa huffed, but Atsumu had become something of an Omi-Expert, something he is very proud of if he says so himself, which he does. Often. He recognized the air of fondness even as he spoke ill of his cousin. Atsumu puffed out a laugh.
“Yeah, yeah, Komori’s a menace and ya hate his guts, I know. I just figured it’d be good for ya to see a friendly face while ‘Samu and I are doin’ our groomsmen duties, is all.”
“Why are you talking as if I said yes? I think I was very clear with my answer,” Sakusa replied as they approach the building, insering his key into the lock but pausing before he opens the door. “Wait, did you say you’re a groomsman?”
“Yep! Aran’s one of our longest and best friends, and we’ve known Kita-san since high school obviously, so of course I am!” Atsumu boasted proudly, and he is proud. Proud to know Aran and Kita, proud to be such a big part of their life, and proud to be a part of such an important day for them.
“That’s… actually really nice. I’m… happy. For you,” he responded, slightly stilted and unsure, like he’s not used to complimenting Atsumu or saying anything slightly positive to or about him. Which, fair. He’s not.
“Aww, careful Omi-Omi, try not to hurt yerself,” Atsumu jabbed as Sakusa finally opened the door.
“Whatever. Bye Miya.” Atsumu still hadn't gotten a yes, but he hadn't gotten another no either. He walked to his room and shrugged his warmup jacket off, trying to decipher the lesser evil between convincing Sakusa to join him and swallowing his pride and showing up to the wedding solo.
He decided to take a proper shower, the quick rinse after practice still left him feeling grimy, and brainstorm under the hot stream of water. He was so confident he’d get Sakusa to agree by mentioning Osamu’s food and Komori’s presence, so what else could he use? He could offer to pay for all of Sakusa’s cleaning products for the next month, or somehow convince his brother to get him free onigiri at the shop…
Fuck he’s a genius.
Atsumu had spent the entire night previous making sure his plan was completely foolproof and his reasoning was absolutely solid. He had to pull out all the stops and then some if he wanted to get Sakusa to say yes.
Atsumu will look back on this and think about how since Sakusa humored him rather than saying a sharp “enough, Miya,” he didn’t need to do all this work, but, well, he was desperate.
Realistically, his plan also didn’t require him staying up until the early hours of the morning playing Fortnite under the guise of “looking for inspiration” either, but, oh well. Sacrifices had to be made.
Atsumu lingered in the sharehouse’s lobby, waiting for Sakusa to emerge from his room so they could head to the gym together. Not only did they walk home from practice together, but they walked there together as well. Atsumu regularly pats himself on the back for worming his way into the spiker’s circle.
He scrolled on his phone for a little while, sending the occasional brainrot video to Osamu to piss him off, when Sakusa finally joined him in the lobby and went straight for the door.
“Omi-kun! Good mornin’!” Atsumu greeted cheerfully, pocketing his phone and following the other.
Sakusa gave a curt nod. “Miya.”
“So, I was thinkin’, with this whole wedding thing–”
“No.”
“Ya didn’t even let me finish!”
Sakusa huffed and rolled his eyes as Atsumu held the door open for him, but Atsumu could see the slight crinkle by his eye and crease by his eyebrow that indicated he was smiling but trying not to. Because, you know, good friends always notice that stuff about each other. Obviously.
“You didn’t have to. I already told you, I’m not interested. Besides, say I do humor you which, by the way, wouldn’t work because Miya-san and Suna-san know me through Motoya and you. What would I even get out of this?”
Atsumu felt his heart leap out of his throat. He was inching closer and closer to getting a yes out of him, he could feel it. He tried to swallow his excitement and not let it show that he knew Sakusa was exactly where he wanted him.
“Well, I’m gladja asked Omi-Omi! See, I’ve got it all figured out. So, we’ve been datin’ for a few months by now, but we decided to keep it on the downlow because of our careers ‘n on account of you bein’ so reserved. But I just couldn’t help myself,” and rarely ever can when it comes to you, Atsumu thought, “and accidentally let slip that I scored such a fine piece of ass.” This earns him a punch to the head, which he expected but still, ow. “I kept it anonymous of course, but it slipped out because–”
He cut himself off immediately with a cough. How was he supposed to explain it’s because he feels like he’s falling behind in every aspect except volleyball? That everyone seems to move forward without him, while he’s still tethered to the same spot he’s been in since he graduated high school? He’d given his blood, sweat, and tears to this sport and he wouldn’t have it any other way. That didn't stop the glances he got every time he went back home without a hand to hold. He kept walking and hoped to any god out there that Sakusa wouldn't question him. He felt his eyes on him, but he refused to meet them.
“Because um, you know I can never keep my mouth shut! Anyway, uh, yeah. That’s the story.”
Sakusa hummed slightly, giving him another look but deciding not to press. “You still haven’t told me what I’d get out of this.”
“I’ll make sure ya get free onigiri for a lifetime from ‘Samu, and I’ll even make sure to cover yer next three cleaning supply runs. And, to show I’m serious about this, I made sure to put it in writing,” Atsumu said proudly, procuring a piece of paper out of his pocket. Sakusa hesitantly took it and held it up to read.
“‘I, Atsumu Miya, player number 13 on the MSBY Black Jackals and starting setter, hereby swear my loyalty to the cause. Should I break the promise of free onigiri and cleaning supplies, I will allow Sakusa Kiyoomi, player number 15 on the MSBY Black Jackals and outside hitter, to declare any punishment he sees fit, with no argument.’ Miya, this is ridiculous. Did you really type this all out and handwrite our names to look like an official document?” he asked incredulously, looking at the paper like he couldn’t believe it was actually real.
“Of course! I told ya, I wanna prove I’m serious about this. I had to go the whole nine yards. So, what do ya say?” Atsumu tried his best to flatten the butterflies that started wreaking havoc in his stomach, but was failing tremendously. He was so close to getting Sakusa to agree, he just needed to hear him say-
“Fine. Whatever, I’ll do it. But I’m seriously holding you to these conditions.”
Atsumu almost leapt for joy and spun Sakusa around like they were in a Disney movie, but swallowed the urge down and instead gave him a blinding smile. He was positive the reference would’ve been lost on him, anyway.
“Seriously Omi, yer doin’ me such a huge favor and I can’t thank ya enough. And, when Sunarin and Komori-kun inevitably bitch us out for not tellin’ them, we’ll just tell ‘em they have big mouths and we were really workin’ hard to keep it a secret.”
They turned a corner and the gym came into view, and Atsumu walked slightly ahead so he could hold the door open for the both of them. Sakusa gave him a nod of thanks as he walked through and turned a bit so he could face Atsumu. “I already agreed, you don’t have to keep pitching the idea to me like a salesman. Seriously, you sound like Kuroo-san. Just send me the wedding invite and we can coordinate from there.”
Atsumu, even on his death bed, would never admit that hearing Sakusa say they can coordinate damn near made his heart leap out of his throat. Instead, he’d say that he nodded as coolly as possible and gave a big thumbs up.
After practice that day, Atsumu suggested that Sakusa should come over so they could start planning, to which he only agreed after Atsumu offered to make dinner. He’s no Osamu, but he’s cooked for the other three monsters enough times for Sakusa to trust him to prepare his food. The thought did not linger in his mind longer than necessary. Nope.
Plus, like hell would he let Osamu be better at him than something without going down without a fight.
The walk back was spent the same as it is every other day – talking about techniques, what they could improve on, how Foster looks even closer to popping a vein than ever. Atsumu reveled in the familiarity. Even though his family from Inarizaki was no longer playing with him, he was glad to have found another through the Black Jackals. The two of them headed to Atsumu’s place (which was, thankfully, just cleaned) and Atsumu went straight to the kitchen.
“Omi, want water or anythin’? I’ve got some tea and coffee too, or, let’s see…” Atsumu trailed off as he started rummaging through his cabinets and fridge, trying to see if there was anything else he had to offer.
“Coffee’s fine. I have a feeling I’ll need it,” the teasing in Sakusa’s tone could be heard a mile away, but as Atsumu turned around to stick his tongue out at him, he was faced with him removing his mask and having that smirk on full display, in his own home. Atsumu could’ve passed out right there, but he had a reputation to uphold as JVA’s most eligible bachelor or JVA’s biggest playboy, whichever one the tabloids felt like running with. Where the press got that conception was completely lost on him, but… it was fine.
“I’m a delight to be with and you know it, Omi-Omi. But sure, any cream ‘r sugar?”
“I’ll just take it black,” he heard the other man say from the living room, which, typical. Of course he’d take his coffee black, too. Atsumu got to work on preparing two cups of coffee and started grabbing the ingredients he’d need for dinner. Since they were going to be doing plenty of brainstorming already, he settled on curry since it was easy to make and he knew his ma’s recipe by heart.
He brought Sakusa’s coffee out to him as he waited for the roux to cook, turning away and heading back to the kitchen, Sakusa’s grimace at the bitter taste of black coffee going completely unnoticed.
Atsumu put a random playlist of his on shuffle and hummed as he continued working on dinner, and the beginning to some pop song he had heard on a random TV drama he’d put on the other night started playing. He didn't know the lyrics, but the tune was catchy enough that it’d been stuck in his head ever since. He still had a little bit of time until his roux was finished and he had already gathered and prepped the rest of the ingredients, so he decided he’d bother Osamu in the meantime.
Me:
hey
hey
hey
Bitchass:
What
Me:
bitch
Bitchass:
Something about you just exudes the energy of rotting flesh
Not sure what it is
But it’s there
Me:
WHAT THE FUCK
Bitchass:
shrug emoji
Atsumu decided that was enough of that and sent him the middle finger emoji, promptly ending that conversation. He could bother Suna, but the rat was probably on the phone with Osamu anyway, both laughing at his expense. He did have the option of bothering Sakusa since the man is in his living room…
“I’m using your Netflix, Miya.” Speak of the devil and he shall announce that he’s stealing your Netflix, or however the saying goes.
“Aww, getting bored out there all by yerself, Omi?” Atsumu taunted as he turned his music up, just to be a little shit.
“Well you’re not doing much to entertain me besides playing your shitty music, so your Netflix will have to do.”
Atsumu feigned offense even though he knew the other man couldn't see him. “My music taste is good as fuck and you know it!”
“I don’t know if good is the word I’d use to describe it,” Sakusa snided, smirk evident in his voice even with his back turned.
Atsumu bristled, but the banter was making his heart flutter. “You wouldn’t know good music if it hit ya smack in the face. Not everyone wants ta listen to jazz or classical all the time.”
“You should try it sometime, maybe you’ll develop some critical thinking skills that way.”
Atsumu couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at that, even though he knew that by laughing he admits defeat. The air of smugness from Sakusa wafted through the kitchen, but he couldn’t have cared less. There was something so disarming, so calming, about having Sakusa there, their back-and-forth teasing settling in the apartment like a soft layer of mist.
Atsumu let himself fall into the steady rhythm of making the curry, the crime documentary Sakusa put on serving as background noise. He ended up pausing his music when the documentary piqued his interest, but he couldn’t help but hum under his breath as he put the finishing touches on the meal.
He gathered both bowls and along with some chopsticks and napkins and makes his way to the living room, where Sakusa was lounged on his couch, eyes on the screen but seemingly not paying full attention. Atsumu set his bowl of curry down on the coffee table, startling the other man out of his daydream.
“Soup’s on, Omi-Omi! It’s my ma’s special recipe, so if ya hate it, it’s basically like hatin’ her and that won’t do ya any favors if yer gonna be my date to this wedding,” Atsumu teased as he settled in on the other side of the couch, watching as Sakusa’s eyes widen slightly in panic before narrowing.
“She had to spend 18 years with you, I’m sure I’ll be a breeze to handle compared to that,” he replied easily, but there was still an air of nervousness surrounding him, as if Atsumu’s words had somehow struck fear into him. Atsumu decided to have mercy on him and move on.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, as far as outfits go, I have to coordinate with the other groomsmen, but do ya have anythin’ you can wear? I’m sure you saw on their website, but there’s gonna be a Shinto ceremony and a western one, but just a regular suit will be fine as long as it’s in the color scheme."
Sakusa tilted his head as he thought. “I have quite a few options that should match the theme. My parents dragged me to dinner parties all the time, plus I have some suits from previous galas.”
Ah, right. Sakusa’s family is old money rich.
Atsumu wondered absentmindedly if they should match their suits somehow, and got lost in the thought until Sakusa cleared his throat and shot him a pointed look.
“Focus, Miya. The wedding is in Amagasaki, right? We still need to figure out where we’ll be staying.”
“Oh, no worries about a hotel or anythin’, I grew up in Amagasaki so we’ll be stayin’ with my ma,” Atsumu mentioned casually, but tilted an eyebrow at the expression on Sakusa’s face. “What?”
“You didn’t say anything about staying with your mom!” Sakusa hissed, and if Atsumu didn’t know him as well as he does, he’d say he looked nervous.
“I mean, I kinda thought it'd be obvious? Like I said, I grew up in Amagasaki, ‘n that’s where the wedding’s bein’ held, so…” Atsumu trailed off, unsure where Sakusa’s concern was coming from. He was positive he'd mentioned being from Amagasaki before. At the very least, Sakusa definitely knew he’s from Hyogo from their time at nationals together.
Sakusa schooled his expression, but his tone still revealed a hint of nerves. “I assumed we’d get a hotel! Aren’t Miya-san and Suna-san also going to be staying there? Won’t it be too cramped?”
“Ma’s helpin' Aran’s mom with wedding prep so she’ll be stayin' over at their place for the weekend, so ‘Samu and I are gonna battle for who gets her room and who gets our room. ‘Sides, it’ll be more suspicious if we don’t stay there.”
Sakusa seemingly went through the five stages of grief as Atsumu explained his reasoning, and finally settled on acceptance with a sigh of reluctance.
“I really should not have agreed to this,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face.
Atsumu grinned and pulled out his laptop so they could start looking for train tickets back to his hometown. “But ya did! Now help me look for the best tickets. We have to get there before lunch or my ma’s gonna kill us both.”
Atsumu severely underestimated the amount of work that goes into being a groomsman. Between helping pick out decorations, planning the decorations, picking out a suit that the other groomsmen can agree on, finding a gift suitable enough for two of his best friends, while also being a full time athlete, he felt like he could keel over at any minute.
He was drowning in his woes one night in the locker room after a particularly grueling practice, when he felt a cold water bottle get pressed against his neck. The action startled him enough that he jumped and almost flew off the bench, but a familiar hand grabbed him by the arm to pull him back up.
“Jesus, Omi, ya scared the shit outta me,” Atsumu breathed when he was confident he wouldn’t fall again, taking the water bottle with a mumbled ‘thanks.’
“Stop thinking so hard. It’s unlike you and I’m worried you’re going to blow a fuse.”
“Aww Omi, yer worried about me?”
Sakusa pushed him off the bench.
Atsumu laughed, his shoulders feeling slightly less heavy. Hoisting himself up, he gathered his bag and left for the door, with Sakusa right on his heels.
“Yers or mine tonight?” Atsumu asked as he held the door open. Sakusa gave him a subtle but strange look, something he had been doing ever since Atsumu started holding doors open for him and carrying extra sanitizing wipes around. He hasn't been able to decipher what that means yet. The moment passed in an instant though, along with that weird look on the other man’s face.
“We can do yours. I haven’t gone grocery shopping yet so I don’t have anything to make for dinner.”
“Mine it is then!”
They began their walk back to the sharehouse, and Atsumu noticed that Sakusa hadn’t been keeping much distance between them lately. Where he used to keep at least half an arm’s length away from him at all times, Atsumu had found their shoulders brushing on more than one occasion. Sakusa didn’t jerk away when he slapped his back after a particularly nasty spike, and didn’t shoot him that patented Sakusa Glare™ when he lifted his hands for a high five. On very rare occasions, usually in the heat of the moment when they pull off a perfect attack, he’d be the one to initiate a high five with Atsumu. The gaping faces from the team, and honest to god gasp of shock from Hinata after the first time had Atsumu beaming with pride for the rest of practice.
The shift was subtle, but Atsumu noticed it all the same.
The walk back went about the same as it always did: they discussed plays, what they needed to work on, and gossipped. Sakusa wouldn’t be caught dead admitting that he entertains Atsumu's gossiping, never mind joins in on it, and Atsumu wasn’t sure anyone would even believe him if he told them. He’d come to appreciate the routine more than he thinks he’d ever let on, and he had a feeling Sakusa felt a similar way.
Once they were back in Atsumu’s apartment, Sakusa went straight for the living room as Atsumu threw his bag in his room and walked back to the kitchen to get dinner started. He heard the familiar thrum of Netflix being booted up as Sakusa was undoubtedly finding another true crime documentary to put on. The domesticity of the moment did something funny to Atsumu’s heart.
He got to work on making dinner for the two of them, Sakusa’s documentary making unsettling background noise. He thought that maybe Sakusa wouldn’t be so worried about germs and whatnot if he stopped watching documentaries about people getting stabbed, but what does he know?
He brought two bowls out just as the documentary reached its end and set them down on the coffee table.
“Ya sure yer gonna be able to stomach this after that one? It seemed especially brutal.”
Sakusa hummed as he clicked play on the next one, something random under the “Suggested For You” tab, and reached for his own bowl. “I’ve seen worse. I think you’re just a wimp.”
“I am not a wimp, just because I don’t watch people gettin’ axed all the time doesn’t mean I’m some sissy. Now eat yer food so we can get this wedding gift decided,” Atsumu huffed, nudging Sakusa’s leg with his foot to get him to start eating. He’d been getting greedy with his touches. If the other man noticed, he hasn’t made it apparent.
Atsumu pulled out his laptop and brought up the wedding registry and tilted it so Sakusa could see the screen as well. He slowly scrolled through all the appliances and dinnerware and other miscellaneous gifts, wondering just when the two husbands-to-be were planning on having up to sixteen guests at their place. Then again, their inner circle had large outer circles, and they were nothing if not the perfect hosts, so maybe the 16-piece dinnerware set wasn’t too far-fetched of an idea. He was about to jot the idea down when he felt Sakusa shift closer - presumably to see the screen better - and almost stopped dead in his tracks. Their sides were practically flush, and he could feel black curls tickle his cheek.
He pictured him as some sort of woodland creature, like a deer. If he moved too fast or spoke too loud he’d scare him off, so Atsumu willed himself to relax. It’s just Omi, fer Christ’s sake. Get it together.
As he mentally fistfought himself, Sakusa leaned closer, brushing his shoulder against Atsumu’s, and pointed to a random item on the registry. Atsumu was too busy having a gay crisis to think twice about whatever the fuck he just pointed at, so he absentmindedly wrote it down next to the plates as a potential idea. He had no idea what meridian-coupe glasses were, but he was too struck dumb to care. Atsumu choked on his spit in the midst of this whole shitshow and hoped Sakusa just thought he ate his food too fast.
They continued scrolling through the registry for a while, stopping every once in a while so Atsumu could write down some more ideas that caught their eye. One would think after knowing one of the grooms for twenty years and the other for almost ten, he’d have at least something already in mind, but there they were. By the time they’d reached the end of the registry, Atsumu at least had a few good ideas written down, so he was content to call it quits.
Neither of them made a move to get up.
It really wasn’t that late, and they didn’t have practice the next day…
“Wanna watch a movie?” Atsumu asked as he busied himself with putting his laptop away.
Sakusa looked like he was about to say no, but to both of their surprises, a quiet sure made its way past his lips. Atsumu almost whooped for joy.
“As long as it’s a documentary,” Sakusa added, a small smirk making its way on his face. Atsumu should have known there’d be a catch. He groaned in defeat but made no actual complaints. He’d watch all the true crime documentaries in the world if it kept Sakusa next to him for just one minute longer.
It’d be a cold day in Hell before Atsumu ever admitted that, though.
“Ugh, fine, I knew ya’d say that. D’ya want any snacks’r anythin’?”
“If you have anything sour I’ll take that.”
Atsumu knew he’d answer with that. Part of being an Omi-Expert is knowing the man has an affinity for sour candy - just like Atsumu does. He figured it makes sense, sour candy matches their personalities perfectly.
Atsumu stood up and went for the kitchen, “Roger that,” he threw out behind him. He grabbed some sour gummy worms, a can of sparkling water for Sakusa, and a can of green tea for himself. He stood at the refrigerator door, hands full of snacks for their movie night after they just had dinner together after which they shopped for wedding gifts together, and willed his stupid heart to relax.
It’s not like Atsumu and Sakusa had never hung out outside of practice or games. They actually became something resembling friends before all this, but begrudgingly acquainted gossipy bitches might have been a more accurate title for them. Whoever said opposites attract had clearly never met the two of them, but they were clearly the inspiration for wherever coined “two peas in a pod.”
Shaking his head to clear his very Sakusa-infected thoughts, he shut the fridge door and made his way back to the living room, where the man haunting his every waking and sleeping hour was sitting, cozied up against the arm of the couch with one of Atsumu’s dumb movie-poster-esque throw blankets over his lap.
“I never took ya fer a fan of Fairy Tail, you look like you’d be a big fan of Gray,” Atsumu snorted, settling in next to Sakusa and leaving the candy in the middle of them.
“I’ve literally never seen an episode of Fairy Tail in my life, but you keep your apartment at subzero temperatures and I didn’t feel like freezing to death,” Sakusa snarked back, reaching for the sparkling water Atsumu held out for him.
“Sorry not all of us enjoy meltin’ to death in our own homes, ya lizard. I bet ya have a heat lamp and everything right above yer bed.”
Sakusa actually huffed out a laugh at that, and Atsumu did not feel prideful about that at all. Nope. Not one bit. Sakusa had a hint of a smile on his face when he turned to Atsumu. “Does your brain capacity only allow you to make animal comparisons? I didn’t know you didn’t pass elementary school, that must’ve been so hard for you.”
“Whatever ya damn smartass, you get one college degree and now yer all high and mighty and smarter-than-thou. Just put yer damn murder show on already.” Atsumu’s words had no bite though, and Sakusa knew that. The downside to spending so much time together recently is neither their barbed words nor sharp tones had an effect on the other, and Atsumu was torn between being afraid of that development and feeling giddy over it. Sakusa’s small smile was still on his lips as he put the documentary on and Atsumu had to summon every ounce of self control to keep his eyes forward instead of on his lips. Hanging out with him one-on-one this often was proving to be terrible for his sanity.
The documentary wasn’t as spine-chilling as the ones he knew Sakusa typically liked to watch, and Atsumu wasn’t sure if he should read into that as deeply as he was. On one hand, it’s not like Atsumu hasn’t at least listened to his usual documentaries, seeing as he could hear them perfectly fine in the kitchen whenever he cooked. But on the other hand… Atsumu couldn’t actually see what was going on. Did he choose a milder one because he knew Atsumu got squeamish? Surely it was just a coincidence, right? Sakusa Kiyoomi was a lot of things, but “considerate” isn’t typically a word people associate with the “too-blunt jerk.”
Ah, fuck me. Stop readin' so far into this, he thought to himself, shaking his head slightly as if he could get rid of the thoughts that way. He noticed Sakusa glance at him out of the corner of his eye, but luckily he didn’t call him out. He wasn’t sure how he’d talk himself out of that one.
The documentary was about halfway over and Atsumu was still finding himself unsettled, and he was just praying the other man hadn’t noticed the way he was shifting in his seat or checking his phone more than usual.
“Getting scared, Miya?” Motherfucker. Spoke too soon.
“As if, Omi-Omi! This is nothin’ but a good teaching moment to never trust the guy who pulls over to help ya with yer car when it’s broken down in the middle of the night on the backroads. Nothin’ scary about it!” He was lying through his teeth and Sakusa knew it, but he’d be damned if he ever admitted to being scared over some fear-mongering Dateline shit.
“You know, for someone who lies so habitually, you’d think you’d be better at it. And to think, the great Miya Atsumu is afraid of a little documentary,” the smirk was once again palpable in his voice, and Atsumu felt a twinge of annoyance - both at Sakusa’s blase attitude and at himself for getting butterflies.
It happened to be at that point that there was a particularly loud crash from the apartment next door, because the powers that be love proving Sakusa right and love making Atsumu look like a fool. Atsumu let out a squeak and subconsciously shoved himself into Sakusa’s side, gripping his bicep like his life depended on it and burrowing his head into the other man’s shoulder. He was so startled he didn’t even process what he’d just done, nor did he feel the way Sakusa froze for a moment.
“Holy fuck, what was that?” Atsumu eeked out, trying to even out his breath.
“Jesus, Miya. Relax, it was just your neighbors being idiots,” Sakusa snapped, and there was just the slightest edge to his voice. Atsumu’s senses came rushing back to him all at once as he realized what exactly he was cuddled up against.
“Oh shit, my bad Omi, I swear I didn’t mean to. D’you need like, a shower? I just cleaned my bathroom an’ I used those fancy products you recommended, or if ya wanna go back to yers–” he was abruptly cut off from his nervous rambling – seriously, who was he? – by Sakusa roughly shoving him back onto his shoulder. He thought he briefly saw God in that moment, but it could’ve just been him seeing Sakusa’s jawline from that close up. And if Atsumu let out another squeak, that was between him and God-slash-Sakusa’s jaw.
“Do you ever shut up? Seriously, I feel like I need to schedule a consultation with a neuropsychologist for you,” Sakusa grumbled, but the twinge of pink on the tips of his ears softened any bite in his words, the edge from before almost completely gone. “It’s fine, plus we’ll need to do things like this to convince everyone, right? So we might as well practice so we don’t raise any suspicions.”
Atsumu felt his soul leave his body. He might take Sakusa up on his offer of scheduling a neurowhatever consultation because something was seriously wrong with him. He could feel the steady rise and fall of Sakusa’s chest as he breathed, and Atsumu would’ve thought he was completely unaffected if it weren’t for the way he could feel the other man’s pulse jackhammering beneath his temple.
So he is just as nervous as I am, Atsumu thought to himself, feeling giddy at the idea that Sakusa wasn’t as impenetrable as he tried to make himself seem.
“Okay. Okay, yeah, good idea, Omi-Omi. I knew that college degree had to be worth something,” Atsumu managed, willing his body to relax into the touch. He swallowed his shocked gasp as he felt Sakusa adjust his arm to be resting around Atsumu, hand resting just under his ribs.
“Shut up. Are you going to finish this documentary with me, or are you too scared?” The smirk was once again evident in his voice, but all Atsumu could focus on was with me with me with me with me with me.
His pause gave Sakusa the wrong idea though, and he actually reached for the remote as if to turn it off. Seriously, Atsumu thought to himself, who is this guy?
“Who’s too scared? ‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t me!” Atsumu exclaimed, probably too loudly, which definitely gave away the fact that he was, in fact, scared as shit. “Keep the damn thing on, Omi-Omi. It ain’t like ya to be so considerate anyway.”
Sakusa didn’t grace him with a response, just hummed and turned his focus back to the TV. Atsumu thought his silence was odd, but chose not to push. Sakusa had graced him with not pushing where he could’ve, so Atsumu, in a rare moment of weakness, chose not to, either.
If Atsumu had to hide his face in Sakusa’s shoulder three more times until the end of the documentary, that was no one’s business but his.
One grueling hour and a tension headache later, the documentary finally ended. As spine-chilling music started playing while the credits rolled, Atsumu debated on his next move. He was so comfortable against Sakusa, in a way that he was trying his damned hardest not to think about. By the way Sakusa hasn’t moved either, he’d venture that the wing spiker felt the same way.
At least, that’s what he thought until he heard a quiet rumble come from his chest. Not quite loud enough to be a snore, but not quiet enough to be an inhale. Now that Atsumu thought about it, Sakusa’s head did start leaning pretty heavily against his hair shortly after Atsumu’s second time hiding in his shoulder. Atsumu risked a glance out of the corner of his eye and saw Sakusa sound asleep, face relaxed and lips slightly parted. He looked… softer. Atsumu has seen plenty of sides of Sakusa, but he thinks this one might be his favorite. The fact that not only did he feel comfortable enough to hold Atsumu against him, but he felt comfortable enough to fall asleep on him.
Atsumu didn’t want to wake him, but he knew Sakusa hated sleeping anywhere that wasn’t his own bed, and in his current position he’d probably wake up with a nasty crick in his neck.
Atsumu unpocketed his phone and took a quick picture of the two of them, because he knew no one would ever believe this had happened without proof. He was about to send it in the MSBY group chat, but… he kind of wanted to keep this moment to himself. Just for now.
Tossing his phone to the side after taking a few more pictures, he debated the best way to wake him up.
He knows from past experiences of sharing hotel rooms and long bus rides with Sakusa that the man is not a delight upon first waking up. His scowl gets even deeper than normal and his glare could make a lesser man cry. Which it has, Atsumu has seen it happen. While Atsumu is pretty much immune to Sakusa’s wide repertoire of nasty glares, he would like to stay as far in his good graces as possible. He thought hard, trying to remember when Sakusa seemed the least grumpy after waking up. He knows loud sounds or alarms just piss him off and he’s even more sensitive to touch upon first waking up, so his method of waking Osamu up, which is blasting the loudest song in his music library and body-slamming him, was not an option.
It was getting even later and Atsumu decided he’d just have to bite the bullet. As gently as he could ever remember himself being, he pulled the sleeve of his hoodie over his hand and gently nudged against Sakusa’s blanket-covered shoulder.
“Omi,” he whispered, nudging just a little harder, “Omi, wake up. Yer gonna wake up with a nasty crick in yer neck if you stay like that.”
Sakusa pouted, brows furrowing ever so slightly. That was the only indication that Atsumu’s efforts had reached him though, as he curled deeper in on himself and let out a quiet breath, face smoothing back over in something more gentle, more relaxed.
Fuck if that wasn’t the cutest goddamned thing Atsumu had ever seen. He had to fight the urge to pinch Sakusa’s cheeks in an insane bout of cuteness aggression. He bit down the urge to squeeze his cheeks like an overly affectionate auntie and instead tried nudging him again, just a touch harder.
“Omi, come on. You’ll be more comfortable in yer own bed,” he tried again, slightly louder this time. “Don’t make me carry you, y’know I will and you’ll hate every second of it.”
“Don’t even think about it, you neanderthal,” Sakusa grumbled, brows furrowing again as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. “Fuck, how long was I asleep for?”
“Maybe about 45 minutes? I dunno, I think you fell asleep right around the middle of the documentary. Fucked up of ya to leave me alone and defenseless while watching that, by the way,” Atsumu crooned. There was no bite, no edge to his words. They were sickly sweet, dripping from his mouth like honey. He hardly recognized himself.
“But did you die?” Sakusa asked, traces of sleep still lingering in his eyes.
“Damn near! I don’ know how you stomach that shit all the time.”
Sakusa rolled his eyes as he moved to get up, stretching his arms above his head. The tiniest sliver of the skin between his shirt and sweatpants peeked out and Atsumu felt his mouth run dry like some starved virgin maiden. He had to resist the urge to slap himself in the face but he’d have too hard of a time explaining that one away, so he opted for blinking hard and averting his gaze.
Yer such a loser, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Osamu whispered in his ear. Atsumu felt the burning need to enact revenge and made a mental note to spam him with more brainrot later.
“You’re so dramatic,” Sakusa huffed as he walked toward the door, startling Atsumu out of his thoughts.
“Maybe I should schedule a consultation for you, ya crazy bastard. Now go to bed before ya fall asleep standing up in my doorway.”
Sakusa shook his head but Atsumu could see the ghost of a smile on his lips.
“Later, Miya.” Sakusa said over his shoulder, shutting the door gently behind him.
Atsumu groaned and ran a hand down his face. He was so completely and utterly fucked.