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"Hey, what are ya watchin' there?"
Freshly out of shower, Atsumu called out to his boyfriend. He glimpsed a mob of dark curls spilling over the armrest, apparently Sakusa had finished getting dressed and was lying on the couch.
"A clip." came Sakusa's terse reply.
"Omi kun." Walking closer, Atsumu could now see the black haired man was busy staring at his phone. He held it in his grip with both hands, his earphones plugged in.
"Mmm." Still unsatisfactory response.
Atsumu ventured closer, towel still on his hips and one hand lazily rubbing his damp hair with a smaller towel.
"Omi-omi kun."
Atsumu came to a stop next to his boyfriend's legs. He didn't dare take a step closer, for fear of dripping onto their white sheepskin rug, directly imported from Australia. Sakusa loved that rug, Atsumu got crumbs on it once and he made him sleep on the floor, yes the floor --not the couch, as a punishment.
Standing a foot a way, Atsumu tried to lean over to peek at what was on Sakusa's phone. Apparently his looming wasn't much appreciated either, since Sakusa lifted up a foot to plant on his abs and lightly pushed him back.
"Go away Miya."
"Nope." Atsumu replied, sticking out his tongue slightly at his boyfriend. Grabbing his sock-cladded ankle with his damp hands, he relished in the way Sakusa groaned after realizing Atsumu was still wet from the shower and had successfully ruined Sakusa's clean sock with his dampness.
Sakusa pulled his leg out of Atsumu's hold but still refused to pay attention to him, his black eyes focused on his phone screen with the corners crinkling slightly in what Atsumu had long since learned to be amusement. When he wasn't playing volleyball, Sakusa had a medical mask covering half of his face most of the times. So Atsumu learned to make do with the other half he did see on a regular basis----the quirk of his eyebrows, the shape of his eyes, the occasional lines showing up on his forehead, even the tilt of his head. Atsumu knew how to interpret all of these by heart.
That didn't help him learned what on his phone got Sakusa so amused in the first place, though.
Heaving out a dramatic sigh, Atsumu turned to head for their bedroom. Once he was dry and dressed, he walked right up to the couch and snatched Sakusa's phone out of his hand.
"Oi, give it back." Sakusa glared at him, nimble fingers already grabbing at his arm trying to retrieve his phone. Atsumu wasn't paying attention to that, though, not when what he saw on the screen was much more interesting.
He let the short clip looped for a few times. Sakusa gave up trying to get it back and just took out his earphones. The chirpy music played on full blast in their living room while Atsumu watched a video of himself dancing cheerily to the national team chant.
It was a behind-the-scene type of things. There were three of them, standing in what appeared to be a meeting room with wooden floor and white walls. A potted plant could be seen somewhere in the corner. Atsumu was on the left with Ushijima on the right. And smack dabbed in the middle, front and center, was Bokuto Koutarou with his million watts smile and frankly offending pectorals. They were all wearing a bright orange t-shirt with black shorts and a pair of bright orange sneakers, courtesy of the sponsor.
It was for an Olympic commercial with Asics. Atsumu remembered being told to practice by doing a few takes in the adjacent common room. He never thought this footage would see the light of days, let alone be uploaded to the internet for the general population to see. It was filmed with one of the crew's shitty phone, vertically . All three of them were still learning the dance and it was nowhere near the perfection of the actual footage taken in the studio.
Bokuto was doing alright, at least. He moved his hands correctly, twisted and turned at the right moments. At the first "We! Are! Team! Japan!" a blazing fire animation showed up to cover his fist, perfectly in sync with the beats.
Ushijima, ever the exceptional athlete, also got the dance down pretty well. His form was stiffer than Bokuto's but it only made him look strong and accentuated the line of his impressive arms. To Atsumu's surprise, he even had a genuine smile on his face, albeit a little shy.
Atsumu was the only one clearly struggling. He saw himself singing along to the tunes, but his arms and legs wear flailing quite clumsily. Video-Atsumu laughed a little when he messed up a turn, wiggling his brows at the person behind the camera, and continued dancing with a slightly bigger smile on his face.
When the bright orange end screen showed up yet again, he finally turned to look at Sakusa, a smug grin already forming on his lips.
"Wow, Omi kun. I didn't realize yer so into me dancin' like a damn fool. Ya should hav' told me sooner. I'll give ya a private show."
Sakusa scowled, then he snatched back his phone from Atsumu lax grip and pulled down his mask to sneer. Because Sakusa Kiyoomi was nothing if not a salty asshole.
"A private show of your fumbling? No thanks. Bokuto and Wakatoshi were much better dancers."
Atsumu could feel his own eyebrow twitched. He instantly pouted.
"Oh shuddup! C'mon! Just admit that I was adorable and ma cute littl' dancin' made ya smile!"
Sakusa, the bastard, stared blankly at him.
"Not really. It was actually quite hard to see you behind Bokuto."
Atsumu glared at him, arms now crossed on his chest and shaking his head.
"Nuh-uh. I won't buy it. Ya said lookin' at Bokkun for more than a few seconds hurts yer eyes."
Sakusa shrugged. "Yeah, so I looked at Wakatoshi-kun. He was good."
Atsumu paused, his eyes squinting to look at Sakusa's face. Or more specifically, the faintest sign of a blush spreading on Sakusa's face. And suddenly he remembered one very, very well kept secret about his boyfriend.
"Huh. So ya were more focused on yer ol' high school crush than yer actual boyfriend, huh? Wow, Omi. Gotta say... I'm kinda hurt."
He pretended to sniffle, lips pursing into a wobbly curve. On the couch, Sakusa's cheek got progressively redder. The black haired man moved to grab at his phone a few times. When Atsumu moved out of his reach, Sakusa slumped back onto the couch and settled on clutching his earphones tightly.
"You are rididulous." Sakusa glared at him, pale cheeks still burning a furious red.
Smiling fondly, Atsumu shot back. "Yeah but ya love me ridiculous."
Sakusa made a show of rolling his eyes and pulling up his mask before he turned away to huff an annoyed breath, eyebrows twitching. Atsumu was well verse in Sakusa Kiyoomi facial expression though, he knew hidden underneath the mask was a smile tugging at the corner of his boyfriend's thin lips. It was Sakusa's 'I'm fond of you but I won't admit it.' smile, Atsumu had been the sole recipient of it for the past three years.
It was in these ways; the hidden expressions, the barely audible huffs of laughter, the softest voluntary touches, that Atsumu knew Sakusa truly loved him. And Atsumu loved him in return.
Didn't mean he couldn't be a little shit, though.
Grinning toothily, Atsumu added. "But not as much as ya love Ushiwaka's ridiculous muscles, amirite?"
Sakusa threw the earphones at his face.