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Atsumu made his way up the steps of the apartment building shared by most of their team. Specifically, he was headed to Hinata’s apartment, where Bokuto, Sakusa, Hinata, and Inunaki were currently doing this week’s livestream with fans.
A few hours prior, Hinata had been confused as to why Atsumu requested they start the stream without him. Atsumu had a very important errand to run before he could join the team for their stream.
Ever since seeing that cursed image of Sakusa Kiyoomi, in all of his 192-centimeter grace, posing in a black skirt on twitter that afternoon, Atsumu had been like a man possessed. He had rushed to the nearest skirt-selling clothing store to hopefully finally shut Sakusa up.
His need to be late to the livestream wasn’t a time issue, though. He had returned from the store with more than an hour to spare. No, Atsumu’s preference of showing up late was so he could bask in the shock that would no doubt be plastered on his teammates’ faces.
And if someone on their stream happened to be recording, immortalizing those expression onto the internet? Well, Atsumu definitely wouldn’t mind.
The blonde glanced at his phone when he received a notification from his brother.
ctrl + v: looks good
ctrl + v: Sakusa-san’s gunna love that
Astumu ignored the strange response from his brother as he stepped up to Hinata’s door. It was unlike Osamu to be so civil unless he was up to something.
Shaking his head, Atsumu opened to door to the apartment, plastering a grin onto his face.
Hinata was the first to catch sight of him.
“Woah, Atsumu-san!” Hinata’s face lit up in awe.
The four men were positioned around the table same as every other week, minus Atsumu. Bokuto and Inunaki sat on the couch, while Hinata replaced Atsumu as the livestream moderator by sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table and tablet. Sakusa sat behind the couch, kitchen chair pulled up, distancing himself a good meter from the rest of his teammates.
Much to Atsumu’s dismay, Sakusa was still wearing his black skirt.
Atsumu doubted the fans could see Sakusa’s skirt from his seated position behind the couch. Unfortunately, this luxury did not extend to Atsumu, who was forced to come to terms with just how good Sakusa looked in a skirt.
The man in front of him seemed to be all legs at this point. His waist cinched as a result of the skirt’s shape, dark folds grazing the middle of the dark-haired man’s thighs. Atsumu hadn’t put much thought into the constellations of beauty marks that adorned every part of Sakusa’s body until that moment. He wanted to count them, to press kisses onto Sakusa’s body until he had cataloged every single one.
“Tsum Tsum, your skirt looks so nice!” Bokuto bellowed. His praise joined in with Hinata’s.
Atsumu finally glanced up to Sakusa’s face. Sakusa looked as if Atsumu had just poured soured milk on his pillows.
It only took a moment for Sakusa to speak.
“Miya, that is the most atrocious combination of clothing I have ever seen on a human being,”
Atsumu squawked. He couldn’t have looked that bad, right? Atsumu glanced down at himself.
The skirt hadn’t been too difficult to find or pick out at the store. It fell a few inches above his knees in large pleats. The main reason he had chosen it was because of the red color, bright, like the color of the national team’s jerseys. He hadn’t been sure what to wear as a top so he pulled out one of his light gray v-neck shirts.
“It’s not that bad,” Atsumu retorted defensively, straightening out his skirt.
“My seven-year old niece could dress better while wearing a blindfold, Miya.”
The moment the words left Sakusa’s mouth, Inunaki fell onto the floor, holding his stomach in laughter.
Atsumu huffed, “Why d’ya gotta be so mean, Omi-Omi,”
Sakusa sighed, the look of disgust on his face transforming into tired resignation, “We’re leaving, Miya,” Sakusa said, standing up, “If you insist on wearing a skirt, then the least I can do is ensure that no one else has to endure the crime that is your sense of fashion,”
Atsumu’s jaw dropped. He wasn’t sure how to process Sakusa’s demand or the way the dark-haired man's legs looked in that skirt, fabric swaying and teasing even more soft skin.
§
After stopping at Atsumu’s apartment to get him changed out of the ‘violation of human rights’ that was his skirt, Sakusa led them to a clothing store not far from their apartments. Sakusa started moving towards the skirt section as soon as they entered the shop. He ordered Atsumu to go wait at the changing rooms.
“Don’t ya need my size, Omi-Omi?” Atsumu teased.
Sakusa raised his eyebrows, “As if you know your own skirt size, idiot. Now go. Let me focus.”
Atsumu chuckled and began his search for the dressing rooms, which only took him a few minutes. He plopped down onto a chair and took out his phone, remembering his brother’s texts from earlier.
me: hey jerkface why didn’tcha tell me my outfit was trash??
ctrl + v: cause its so much fun to let you humiliate yerself in front of the guy yer in love with
me: shaddup. yer the bane of my existence
ctrl + v: big words for the guy that failed grade 5 vocab
“Sunuvabitch,” Atsumu growled under his breath.
He didn’t have to wait much longer for Sakusa to find his way to the dressing rooms, a handful of clothing draped over his arm. There seemed to be mostly skirts, but also a few neutral-colored shirts to pair them with.
Atsumu grabbed the pile of clothing and maneuvered into the dressing room. Once settled, he started the process of trying on each shirt and pairing it with one of the two shirts Sakusa offered him.
Most of the skirts Atsumu tried on receive the same noncommittal grunt from the dark-haired man. That is until the plaid pleated skirt Atsumu paired with a button-up top. This outfit received what could almost be considered an approving grunt.
It wasn’t until the final skirt that Atsumu was able to draw a significant reaction from Sakusa.
He walked from the dressing room, readjusting the sleeves of his shirt in the process. Atsumu glanced up, confused. He hadn’t been met with the usual grunted response and judgmental comment from Sakusa.
For most others looking at Sakusa in that moment, they would see nothing more than a blank expression. But Atsumu saw the way Sakusa’s eyes were widened slightly as he leaned against the wall across from the dressing room. This might as well have been an audible gasp from the man. Atsumu wasn’t sure what the expression meant until he noticed the way the other's gaze trailed over his body, lingering on his left leg.
Sakusa gulped, “I didn’t notice the size of the slit,”
Atsumu’s face transformed into a shit-eating grin as he spotted a red flush appear on the dark-haired man’s face above his mask.
The final skirt was a deep maroon color that reminded Atsumu of his time as Inarizaki. It's fabric hugged its way from the thin of his waist to his knees. The skirt would have been relatively modest if not for the slit along the left leg that made its way up nearly the entire expanse of Atsumu’s thigh. He had paired the skirt with a cream-colored and long-sleeved turtleneck.
Atsumu popped his hip, purposefully pressing his left leg against the slit, and tilted his head down into a teasing gaze directed straight at Sakusa.
“Like what’cha see, Omi-kun?”
The blonde couldn’t help but be pleased at gaining back a bit of control over his current situation. He should have stopped at that comment. But as he watched Sakusa glance down at his leg again, face growing even more red, he found himself stepping forward into Sakusa’s personal bubble.
Sakusa’s eyes widened even more as Atsumu reached up and pulled Sakusa’s mask down, tucking it under his chin.
“Omi-Omi,” Atsumu grinned wider, now with a full view of Sakusa’s face, “ya look so cute when ya blush, you’ve been holdin’ out on me.”
Sakusa scowled, “Shut up, Miya,” before grabbing Atsumu by the front of his shirt and pulling him down into a bruising kiss.
‘That’s one way to gain back control of a situation,’ Atsumu thought to himself as he stumbled forward from the force of Sakusa’s grip. His hands slammed on either side of Sakusa’s head in an effort to not crash into the man. Atsumu felt his heart skip half a dozen beats.
It’s only a few moments until Sakusa shoved Atsumu away from him. Atsumu finally reoriented himself, a blinding smile crossing his face.
“Omi-kun! Ya like me too?” Atsumu beams, “Does this mean we can be boyfriends now?”
Sakusa sighed and turned to leave, “Whatever, Atsumu. Go change and check out, I’ll be waiting for you outside.”
Atsumu squawked, “Omi, ya called me Atsumu!” but Atsumu was already gone.
He rushed back into the changing room, sent a quick text to Osamu, and began changing back into his original clothes. Atsumu tried his best not to squeal like a teenager as he tucked the turtleneck and maroon skirt under his arm to take to checkout.
Before going out to Sakusa, he decided to go change back into the skirt, ignoring clothing shop etiquette. It was worth it to see that once over Sakusa gave him as he exited the store.
“Ya ready to go, Omi-kun?” Astumu asked, still grinning.
Instead of replying, Sakusa held out a container of hand sanitizer. Atsumu took the hint and stuck out both of his hands, rubbing in the hand sanitizer Sakusa placed in his palms.
Sakusa then proceeded to grip Atsumu’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. Without saying a word, the dark-haired man began walking towards their apartment building, unconcerned with the growing red on Atsumu’s cheeks.
If only Atsumu had been paying more attention, he would have seen the telltale crinkles in Sakusa’s eyes that proved the soft smile that lay behind his mask.