Work Text:
omiiiii 😋😋
@omi-omi ‼️🩷: yes, tsu?
ARE U EXCITED
FOR THE TRAINING CAMP
IM EXCITED
@omi-omi ‼️🩷: very excited to see you tomorrow.
jeez omi u could at least pretend to be excited
@omi-omi ‼️🩷: what
i’m very excited
okayyyy.. well i need to pack
i’ll text u tomorrow
@omi-omi ‼️🩷: okay
love you tsu
I LOVE U TOO OMI!!!!!!
GOODNIGHT :))
Atsumu put his phone down onto the bedside table, packing his clothes and essentials for the training camp in Tokyo. “Oi! ‘Tsumu! Are ya done packing yer things yet?!” A familiar voice rang out from outside the door. Irritation bubbled up in the fake blond’s chest. “Don’t rush me ya scrub! ‘M almost done!”
‘I’m seeing Omi tomorrow,’ Atsumu thought. Saying he was ecstatic was an understatement, but his twin simply brushed it off as excitement to go against a powerhouse.
Atsumu and Kiyoomi had been dating since their first year. Crazy, right? They met in the youth training camp, started talking when they’d both stayed late to practice and bonded over their love for the sport. The two texted daily and eventually started dating, but nobody knew yet. They acted like enemies the entirety of the camp because the sadistic pricks thought it was funny, but the joke just couldn’t stop. Every time they saw each other during tournaments or training camps, every conversation ended in a fight. Of course, nobody other than the lovebirds could see the banter and encouragement behind every snippy comment.
Of course, the fact the relationship was a secret sucked. Especially because Atsumu wanted to flex his boyfriend to his brother, his friends and really just anyone who would listen. It also served to be hard when neither of them had anyone to talk to or ask for advice when they fought.
Now, Atsumu was on the bus to Tokyo with the rest of his teammates after Osamu and Kita had separately lectured the blond to avoid him causing fights with a certain black-haired ace. He’d simply grumbled under his breath that he’d be good, before sprinting into the bus.
@omi-omi ‼️🩷
OMI IM ON THE BUSSSSSSS
@omi-omi ‼️🩷: are you wearing your mask
yes mom ☹️
i might take it off later though
maybe ypu can take it off for me behind the gym 😛😛
@omi-omi ‼️🩷: you’re disgusting.
keep your damn mask on
we’re near now !!!
u better be ready to see me
@omi-omi ‼️🩷: very ready
i’ve also been listening to komori explain a conspiracy theory about alien life for the past 40 minutes
[ @omi-omi ‼️🩷 has sent a voicemail. ]
please hurry.
LMAO
@omi-omi ‼️🩷: wait
what if ur brother snatches your phone or something
WHAT are you doing texting me on the bus.
samus drooling on his jacket
he’s literally dead to the world
ANYWAY we’re pulling up in 10 mins !!!
do i glare at u first or do u throw a snarky comment my way
@omi-omi ‼️🩷: you make a loud obnoxious comment about me and i insult your tosses
stick to the script, tsu.
ur so mean to me loverboy
i’ll be there in a bit
love you kiyoomi <3333
@omi-omi ‼️🩷: love you too, atsumu.
"Oi, 'Tsumu," Osamu grunts, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he sits up. "Wipe that stupid look off yer face. We're here. Don't go embarrassing the team the second we step off the bus."
"I ain't gonna embarrass nobody, ya scrub!" Atsumu snaps back automatically, but his eyes are already darting past his twin's shoulder, scanning the parked vehicles outside. Through the tinted glass, he spotted his lover—face half-hidden by a white mask, curls catching the afternoon light. The fake blond smirked, stretching his arms over his head. It was time to put on a show.
“Atsumu. Stop it.” Kita’s voice rang out, immediately stopping Atsumu and Kiyoomi’s mindless bickering. “Kiyo.. maybe stop provoking him.” Motoya’s calm voice followed from behind Kiyoomi. “Whatever.” They spoke in unison, rolling their eyes and walking away. Internally, Atsumu was cackling at how good their acting was.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of squeaking shoes and intense drills. By the afternoon, Inarizaki was matched against Itachiyama for a full 3 set scrimmage. In the gym, the atmosphere was electric. Residual tension from their earlier argument still hung heavy in the air, but neither of them could care less.
Kiyoomi spiked the ball. He was a monster on the court with those freakishly bendy wrists. “‘Tsumu! Watch the line!” The gray-haired Miya called out to his brother, who was already diving for the ball. “Got it!” The sound of the volleyball hitting skin was followed by a loud BANG that made everyone on the court flinch. Atsumu lost his footing at an odd angle, catching a dry patch on the floor that sent him skidding directly into one of the referee’s metal chair legs. The gym went so silent, you could hear a pin drop. Nobody moved, until Atsumu let out a pained whimper.
Surprisingly, before Kita, Osamu or Aran could get to the blond, a blur of black hair ducked under the net and rushed to Atsumu’s side. It was none other than Sakusa Kiyoomi, who dropped onto the dusty, sweat-stained gym floor without a second thought, holding Atsumu in his arms tenderly. “Tsu, you absolute IDIOT! How’s your knee? Come on, I’ll take you to the infirmary. Stupid. Stupid, stupid. ” His face paled the second the words started tumbling out of his mouth. “Oh fuck.”
“OMI YER THE IDIOT! Ya blew our cover!” Atsumu yelled at him, poking his forehead with his index finger before hissing as his knee throbbed. “SHUT UP! WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME WHEN YOU’RE THE ONE WHO JUST DID SOMETHING STUPID!” Kiyoomi immediately fired back, voice pitching higher as he tried to mask genuine worry with venom.
“Kiyo! Stop it!” The two immediately shut up, suddenly hyper-aware of the dozens of eyes on them. “He’s injured, and your first instinct is to fight him?” Komori looks exhausted, confused and worried all at the same time.
“Yeah Kiyo, I’m injured, why are you fighting poor ol’ me?” Atsumu whined, putting a hand to his forehead for dramatic effect. “I’m actually gonna fucking kill you, Miya.”
Aran tried to diffuse the situation, but confused himself in the end. ”Come on guys. Stop fighting— uh.. are you fighting?”
Before anyone could react, Atsumu was suddenly hoisted off the ground. The curly-haired spiker marched efficiently toward the sidelines, deposing his setter onto the nearest bench to treat him with a nearby first aid kit.
Sakusa Kiyoomi, the snippy germaphobe, kneeling on the dirty gym floor, treating his enemy’s— no, boyfriend’s? knee. Really a sight to see. Of course, the two just kept quarreling and quarreling.
“Ow! Omi, careful!”
“I am being careful, Tsu. Man up.”
Despite his words, Kiyoomi slowed his movements and rubbed his lover’s calf soothingly with his thumb.
“Why’d ya haf’ta be so stupid, Omi?!”
“What?! How am I the stupid one?!”
“We were doing so good, ‘Samu or Kita-san or Aran-kun would’ve helped me! But no, omi-mochi has to barge in and blow our freakin’ cover!”
“Well, excuse me for being worried about you!”
“Yer excused!”
“Yer excyuused?” Kiyoomi mocked, mimicking the Kansai drawl perfectly and earning a sharp jab to the shoulder.
“Don’t mock my accent, you Tokyo fool!”
“Who are you calling a fool? You’d disinfect the whole court with your tears if I didn’t wrap your knee!”
“Who’s crying?! ‘M a picture of absolute grace, Omi. Plus, ya blew our cover cause yer such a worrywart!”
“You cracked your knee open on metal! If you— okay. You know what? I hate you.”
“Ya sent me three hearts last night. THEY WERE PINK TOO!”
“Those were WARNINGS.”
“YA SAID YA LOVED ME!”
“SO WHAT IF I DO?”
“Aha! So ya admit it!”
“..I am going to smother you with a sanitized wipe.”
Atsumu opened his mouth to fire back another insult, but heard a loud, wet choking sound before he could. He looked up to see the flabbergasted faces of their entire lineup, especially Osamu who looked like he’d just swallowed an entire volleyball.
“Ya owe me an explanation, ‘Tsumu..” Osamu’s voice cracked, looking absolutely horrified. “What the fuck, Kiyo.. what the fuck..” Komori was no better, nor was anybody else. The gym was filled with low murmurs as Atsumu just stared in disbelief, finally taking in the situation.
“Um.. the hearts were visual metaphors fer violence ‘nd bloodshed!” Atsumu sputtered, his face reddening. His team simply stared at him dumbfounded. Kiyoomi stared as well, looking at his blond lover like he was the dumbest person on earth. “Atsumu, what the actual fuck is that excuse? What are you gonna say next? I love ya means I respect ya as a rival!” the mysophobe mocked his lover. “Oh, shut yer trap!
…
“Tsumu, what the fuck?!” Osamu stormed over, shaking his twin’s shoulders. “Since when?! Why’d you never tell me?!” The pair was bombarded in questions left and right.
Atsumu replied sheepishly. “Since last year..”
The questions didn't stop until Komori physically dragged Osamu backward by his jersey. "Let them breathe, ‘Samu! He's literally bleeding on the floor!” "He's bleeding my sanity out!" Osamu complained, but he finally stepped back looking utterly defeated.
With the initial shockwave settling into a heavy, bewildered hum across the gym, Kiyoomi quietly finished securing the medical tape around Atsumu's leg. His ears were still bright red, but his hands were steady. He stood up, offering a hand to help Atsumu limp over to the team bench.
Atsumu took it, wincing as he stood, but a massive, incredibly smug grin was already spreading across his face. He looked over at his completely shell-shocked twin, raising their joined hands in the air like a trophy.
"Look on the bright side, 'Samu," Atsumu chirped, leaning his weight into Kiyoomi's side. "Yer gonna have the most handsome brother-in-law in Japan. Maybe cousin in law as well if the three of you get married," said the blond, gesturing toward his twin, his best friend and his boyfriend’s cousin.
Kiyoomi promptly dropped his hand, letting Atsumu stumble onto the bench with a yelp. "I am leaving you."
"No, ya ain't! Ya love me!"
.
.
.
DONE!!! ( ^u^ )