Archive of Our Own

"I’m bored," Kiyoomi complains for about the tenth time from the seat next to Atsumu’s. His voice is strained, his knee slowly moving up and down in Atsumu's peripheral vision. 

Atsumu glances down at their broken radio and swallows back a sigh. "Why don’t ya try the music again?"

They’re supposed to be officially on vacation. After an already long and intense season with MSBY, they had to stay three weeks in Tokyo for the national team training period. They have one week off now, then two more weeks of training in the big city before they can finally go home to Osaka. The plan is simple for this well-deserved break: spend the weekend with Atsumu’s family in Hyogo, then enjoy a three-day vacation in one of Nagano’s natural parks. 

They’ve decided to use their car exclusively.

They have been driving for four and a half hours, and the damn stereo broke down two hours in. Atsumu never gets bored of driving, especially not on this road. It leads to his grandfather’s house all the way into the Hyogo prefecture, and he drinks in the view of the mountains, the fresh summer breeze entering the car and keeping him cool as he stays with one hand on the wheel, the other propped on his window. Just like his ma used to do when she drove him and Osamu up that very same path several years ago.

Kiyoomi though. He's another story. 

"I've already tried the radio." 

"Yeah," Atsumu nods, trying for a playful smile. "That's why I said, ‘again’."

Kiyoomi just clicks his tongue instead of replying. When Atsumu risks a glance towards him, he’s rolling his eyes, squirming in his seat as if he’s physically uncomfortable.

"Okay Omi, what th’ fuck do ya want me to do?" he scoffs, shaking his head as he looks back towards the road. He takes a deep breath, reeling the irritation in. "It ain’t my fault it broke, alright?"

"I didn’t say it was your fault," Kiyoomi retorts.

"Okay then." Atsumu takes a right turn and relaxes slightly, even through the tense silence. They leave the highway, and enter the country roads.

Kiyoomi mumbles ten seconds later. "I told you to check the car three weeks ago."

"Oh for fuck’s sakes," Atsumu groans, tightening his grip around wheel. "The car is fine."

"Yes," Kiyoomi says sarcastically, gesturing at the radio. "Case in point."

Atsumu sends him a sharp glare. "It's the first time the radio’s ever dropped on me. ‘S why I didn’t even bother to check it."

"You didn’t bother to check anything," Kiyoomi corrects him. 

Atsumu throws his head back against the headrest, trying to stay focused on driving as his blood starts to boil. They’ve had this argument five times since they left Osaka. “I didn’t have any fuckin’ time for it; and besides yer damn music, it works perfect."

"If we break down at some point," Kiyoomi retorts, unconvinced. "I won’t act shocked, Atsumu."

Atsumu glances off to the side and eyes Kiyoomi, raising his chin towards him in one quick motion. "Why are ya doin’ this?"

Kiyoomi looks back at him, incredulous. “Doing what?" he asks indignantly, voice noticeably angry now. "We’ve got a ten hour drive this weekend, going to and from your family. Ten hours and you don’t fucking check if the car is okay, after I’ve asked you to." He scoffs. “And now look at us."

Atsumu bites his tongue, nodding his head. "And remind me again, who’s drivin’ for ten hours?"

"What do you expect?” Kiyoomi asks right back. “For me to kiss the ground you walk on? I can take the train, you know, it’ll take just as long."

Atsumu lets out a bitter laugh, slowing down the car a little as they drive into a new village. They’re getting closer to his grandfather’s town, but he can barely focus on his surroundings. "Be my guest. Take the train next time. It’ll be without me."

"Tragic loss," Kiyoomi drawls, turning away from the conversation to stare at the window.

There’s a beat of silence as Atsumu processes that, and he shakes his head. "I ain’t even goin’ to keep talkin’ with you if it’s gonna be like this."

"Like what, Atsumu?", comes a tired sounding reply. 

"Like yer bein’ a bitch just to piss me off ‘cause you’re bored."

Kiyoomi’s head snaps back towards him, and his voice is cold as ice when he speaks next.

"What did you just call me?"

"I called you a bitch," Atsumu says with twisted satisfaction. It feels good to take it off his chest. And maybe to take Kiyoomi down a peg or two. "You’re actin’ like one."

"Stop the car."

Atsumu looks at Kiyoomi. His jaw is set, and he’s already unbuckling his seatbelt. "Oh c’mon, Omi, you’re n-"

"Stop. The fucking. Car."

"Fine," Atsumu resigns, exhaling as he rapidly parks his car on the side of the road. They’re in the middle of nowhere, nothing but a large grass field surrounding them. He watches exasperatedly as Kiyoomi throws the door open. "What are ya doin’? There’s nothin’ here."

"Shut the fuck up," is all he hears before the door is slammed closed, making Atsumu flinch and close his eyes.

"Shit."

Atsumu may have fucked up.

He lets the silence envelop him and counts to 10. Once he opens his eyes again, he waits until he spots Kiyoomi a few meters away, sitting against a tree with his sunglasses on, to grab his phone and text their host.

"Hey ma," he writes, then fires another text. "Me and Omi are gonna be a bit late."

"Atsumu! Look at ya, all handsome! So handsome, you look like yer father when he was yer age," Atsumu’s mother beams at him and takes him into her arms the second she opens the door. 

Atsumu laughs and hugs her back, inhaling deeply to smell the distinct scent of her perfume. It’s sweet and familiar and he allows himself to bask in it before he pulls back.

"Hey Ma, it’s good to see you," he says honestly, smiling like an idiot.

He can’t help it. This place is filled with too many happy memories, and he can’t feel anything but joy when he’s there. His family’s been gathering here every summer since he was a couple of apples tall.

Kiyoomi’s been coming with him for three years now. 

Kiyoomi hasn’t said a single word to him since he spat out, "Let’s just go," fifteen minutes after leaving the car. Atsumu had spent all that time scrolling on his phone, turning on the AC and waving at the cars that kept slowing down at the sight of their parked car with Kiyoomi sulking against a tree a few meters away. 

They drove the last kilometers of their trip together in complete silence. It wasn’t like they could’ve put on any music. 

"I know, it’s good to see ya too," Atsumu’s ma continues, upbeat. "And you, Kiyoomi-kun, oh, look at that hair."

"I wanted to try the Miya style undercut," he says sheepishly, earning a generous laugh from Atsumu’s mom.

"Hi, honey." She pinches Kiyoomi’s cheek like he’s a fourteen year old boy instead of her son’s adult boyfriend. 

"Hi, Nao-san."

Atsumu’s ma steps back, and holds the door open for them. "Come in, come in. Osamu should be gettin’ here in a few, and yer grandpa is-"

"I’m here," a low voice sounded from the living room, right before Atsumu’s grandfather appeared in the hall.

It’s like 28°C outside, but he’s still wearing a buttoned shirt, his back curved by the years, just like the lines on his face, his kind eyes still intact. Atsumu beams at him, letting his travel bag fall at the bottom of the stairs. 

"By all the gods, Nao, stop yappin’ so much, the neighbors can hear ya."

"Thanks, Dad," Atsumu’s mother deadpans, just as the man starts to nod towards Atsumu.

"Hey, son." He turns to Kiyoomi afterwards, who is quick to bow down. "Kiyoomi-kun."

"Thank you, for having me again," Kiyoomi says politely. 

"Hey Pops," Atsumu laughs, walking over to give his old man a one armed hug. They’re not really used to showing too much affection, so this gesture is enough to warm Atsumu's heart for the evening. 

"So did ya two have a nice trip?" Atsumu's mother asks, looking between them curiously. "You said ya had trouble on the way?"

Atsumu pauses, glancing towards Kiyoomi. They look at each other for a second, like deers caught in headlights, before Atsumu quickly looks away. "Uh, yeah, no, I got kinda lost."

"You got lost?" Atsumu's mother’s eyebrow burrows. 

"’Got distracted and missed an exit." Atsumu nods his head, rubbing his nose with the back of his finger. She looks between them, back and forth.

"I’m going to take the bags upstairs," Kiyoomi intervenes before Atsumu's mother can prod any further. Atsumu sees him lean down to grab Atsumu's bag and hoist it on his shoulder, his own wheeled luggage in hand.

"Is it okay with you if I wash up? Please."

The family knows Kiyoomi enough by now to know that that’s what he always does after he arrives in a new place, but Atsumu guesses he still asks to be polite. His face is neutral, lips twitched up just enough to actually seem happy.

Atsumu watches him, trying to remember the poison there was in that very same voice, now all soft and honeyed, but to no avail. If Kiyoomi is one thing, it’s a good actor when he’s afraid of what people will think. 

"Of course," Atsumu’s pops nods, waving his hand. "You know where the towels are."

"Thank you, I’ll be right down."

As Atsumu watches Kiyoomi disappear up the stairs, his mother pinches his waist, getting his attention.

"Ow, Ma!"

"What’s wrong?", she whispers, leaning into his space.

Atsumu raises his eyebrows. "Ya just pinched me."

"I mean what’s wrong with Kiyoomi?" 

Damn his ma for being so perceptive. He just shrugs, pretending not to get it. 

"Nothin’, why?" 

His mother isn’t fooled. "Ya two are usually attached at the hip, ya’ve barely even looked at each other since ya walked in.'' She looks up. "Dad, ain’t they actin’ weird today?"

"I don’t wanna be involved in any of this," Atsumu’s grandfather says.

"Thanks, Dad."

Atsumu leans forward over his mother’s shoulder. "Thanks Pops," he says earnestly.

"Atsumu," his mother reprimands.

"Okay, we had a little fight," Atsumu sighs. 

"What about?"

"But we’re fine," Atsumu quickly continues. "Please don’t make a big deal out of it, please Ma."

"Do you want me to talk to him?", she asks seriously, her hands reaching up to cup Atsumu’s face.

"No,” Atsumu laughs, shaking his head. 

His mother brushes some hair out of his forehead and smooths a thumb over his cheek, gently petting him like when he was a kid. "Okay. Ya promise you’re okay?"

"Yes."

"He's a very sweet boy."

Atsumu sighs and nods. "Yes, Ma."

“’Kay," his mother relents, letting go of his face. 

She starts to grin again, a little more wistfully than before, and claps her hands together. "I have work for ya, son. C’mon, help me in the kitchen, we’re goin’ ta picnic in the Yumea park tonight." 

"Oh Omi’s gonna love that."

His mother points a finger at him. "We have extra sheets and protection film for all the food. Ya think I can’t adapt to my son in law?"

Atsumu lets out a laugh. "He’s not yer-"

"Yeah yeah," his mother ignores him, turning sharply on her heels to march towards the kitchen. "C’mon, there’s a lot left to do."

Atsumu grins and feels his shoulders relax as he follows her, basking in the smell of the house. He’s home.

By the time Osamu arrived at the house, Atsumu and their mother had just finished up the prep for the picnic. They wrapped it up in a few bags and packed cold packs and sheets for everybody as Osamu complained about being too late for the fun stuff.

When Atsumu had briefly left the kitchen to grab the sheets from his mother’s bedroom, he’d seen Kiyoomi and his grandpa playing chess together around the old horigotatsu. From the looks of it, Kiyoomi was winning. If his little smirk and his pops’ constant grunts were anything to go by.

A little later when they were ready to leave, Kiyoomi looked a little iffy at the idea of having a picnic. Until Osamu had challenged him with a simple, "Ya aren’t afraid of sittin’ in the grass, right?" to which Kiyoomi had bravely replied that "No, of course not, just let me go get my mosquito spray."

Atsumu’s heart may have pinged a little bit when he saw Kiyoomi coming back down the stairs wearing a different shirt, one that properly covers his arms and wrists, even when the temperature is 25°C in the evening. But Atsumu didn’t make any move to reassure him or console him. Before he considered that, Kiyoomi would have to actually look his way.

Now that they’re all sitting near the lake though, food being passed around and conversation buzzing, Atsumu can’t help but itch to talk to Kiyoomi. It’s stupid. He was pissed at him hours ago, he still is pissed at him. 

But Kiyoomi still has the ability to pull the strings of his heart, just by looking like he does, pale face contrasting with his black attire like he’s protecting himself from an army of bugs, hair in disarray from the gentle wind, eyes patient and sometimes amused as he listens to the Miyas bickering among themselves. 

"Psst," Osamu calls out, pulling Atsumu from his thoughts. He shuffles closer to Atsumu, putting his hand in the bag of chips and stuffing a handful of them inside his mouth. "What’s wrong with ya and Omi-san?"

"None of yer business," Atsumu whispers back, already looking away. 

"What, c’mon, tell me what’s up," Osamu frowns as he mumbles between munches. 

"Nothin’."

"I ain’t blind, man. You two haven’t said a word to each other all night, and yer starin’ after him like a sad puppy."

Atsumu snaps his head towards his brother. "Am not."

"Totally are," Osamu shakes his head, sneaking a glance towards Kiyoomi.

"Am not."

"Are."

"Ugh." Atsumu clicks his tongue, looking down at the grass and dusting off his pants. He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

"Whatever ya did, apologize."

"I’ll have ya know I didn’t do anythin’."

"Sounds unlikely. Should I go have a talk with ‘im?"

Atsumu’s mouth goes flat as he levels a look with Osamu. "If you get involved, I’ll kill ya. I know Ma has probably said somethin’ to him already."

"Just make up, alright?" Osamu says as he stands up, taking the bag of chips with him. "The vibe’s fuckin’ weird because of you."

"It is not."

"It is, too."

Atsumu glares at him as he walks away, but ultimately decides that this is one of the rare times where his twin might be right.

He needs to do something.

Around ten thirty, as the sun is properly setting in the sky, Atsumu sees a man walking across the park, stopping every family or couple he crosses paths with. There’s a box strapped to his chest, and a pouch hanging from his pants as a wallet. 

Atsumu stands up, pretexting the need to go fill up his water bottle to leave their spot on the grass. He catches up to the man, gives him a little bit of money and takes the two roses the man hands to him.

After jogging back to their group, he wordlessly gives one rose to his mother, and one to Kiyoomi.

"Awww," his mother immediately grins, inspecting the rose and bringing it to her nose. "Atsumu, thank you. Very sweet."

"Kiss ass," Osamu judges, pausing in the middle of popping dried fruit in his mouth.

Atsumu ignores him, too busy watching as Kiyoomi looks down at the flower in his hand, rotating it slowly. When he looks back up, he gives Atsumu a nod and puts it on the ground next to him. "Thank you."

Atsumu blinks.

"D’ya like it?"

Kiyoomi looks to his right, then to his left where the rest of the family is chatting amongst themselves, before leveling Atsumu with the same glare he gave him in the car. 

"Sure I do," is all Kiyoomi says, and Atsumu sees red.

Atsumu is restless sitting on the bed, hair still a little wet from his shower, and waiting for Kiyoomi to come back from his.

Kiyoomi is probably stalling, he knows that. 

After they came back from their picnic, they delayed having to call the night in as long as they could, helping the twins’ mom with the dishes, playing a few other board games with their grandfather, and even listening to his stories about his past and his first marriage. 

They can’t avoid each other anymore. As usual, the two of them are sleeping together in the attic, since there aren’t enough rooms in the house. The furniture is pushed back to the corners, and even if it’s dark, it is kept clean and tidy. A big ceiling lamp makes the entire room lighter. 

On top of one of the big chests next to their bags, Kiyoomi abandoned his rose when they came home. Atsumu chews on his lip looking at it.

When Kiyoomi walks back into the attic, he’s still applying his night cream. It’s an expensive beauty cream, Atsumu made fun of Kiyoomi when he first applied it in front of him, but it smells amazing. 

He’s rubbing the last of it over his arms and stays silent as he shuts down the door behind him. The tension is palpable, and Atsumu has to swallow around a lump in his throat to talk.

"Hey."

"I don’t want to fight," Kiyoomi says immediately. "Do you mind if I turn the lights off?"

Atsumu makes a face. "Yeah, I do actually. We gotta talk."

Kiyoomi pauses with his hand over the light switch, and looks at Atsumu. "I don’t feel like it."

"Haven’t ya heard of ‘never goin’ to bed angry’?"

"Is that why you bought me a flower? Is that your version of an apology?"

Atsumu sits up a little straighter, shaking the blanket off. "I had nothing to apologize for." 

"Insulting me," Kiyoomi retorts, hand falling back to his side and clenching into a fist. "Does that really mean nothing to you?"

Atsumu closes his eyes briefly and sighs. "Okay, I took it too far. But ya gotta admit ya were lookin’ for a fight."

"I was not looking for a-" Kiyoomi starts and stops himself right away with a sharp shake or his head, turning his eyes to the wall. "I’m not doing this with you, Atsumu."

"Well why not?" Atsumu stands up from the bed now, taking a step towards Kiyoomi, who steps to the side. "Ya sure were happy to talk when we were stranded in the car."

Kiyoomi sends him a glare. "So to you, whenever I point out that you did something wrong, I'm 'looking for a fight'?", he huffs. "You're a hypocrite. You call me a bitch and then go off and act nice to me in front of your family, so what? So I have to make up with you?"

"Y-you’re turnin’ this around!" Atsumu throws his hands in the air. "I'm trying to fix things, and you act like I’m some evil manipulator. By the way, a fight is a two-fuckin’ way street, don’t pretend ya’ve been an angel this whole time. We were both irritated, both tired, we said things, and I made the first step to fix it!"

"This is your way of fixing things?" Kiyoomi tilts his head, gesturing furiously between the two of them. "Yelling at me on top of everything?" He crosses his arms, beginning to stride across the room and back.

"It’s better than yer way. Which is to ignore each other until the problem goes away. At least we’re talkin’ things out."

"I don’t want to talk things out," Kiyoomi snaps, voice rising. He walks across towards the bed and starts getting into it, pulling the blanket up. "I’m tired of doing things your way, because you think you know everything."

Atsumu rubs his face with his hand and pushes his hair back, biting his lip hard as he stares at Kiyoomi. "Do ya realize we’re gonna be mad at each other, because the fuckin’ radio broke in the car? Seriously?"

"I didn't want to fight, Atsumu. Okay? Whatever you think you know about me, you don’t." Kiyoomi grumbles, looking anywhere but at Atsumu. "I hate this. It's stupid and I don't want to talk about it anymore. Can we please stop?"

There’s a beat of silence from Atsumu after he hears Kiyoomi’s voice slightly strained at the end. His heart squeezes. 

He gets back onto the bed as well and crawls towards Kiyoomi.

"Stop, Atsumu," Kiyoomi pleads softly as he feels the bed dip next to him.

"Omi" Atsumu tries, then takes a deep breath. "Kiyoomi, I'm sorry about earlier, in the car. I shouldn’t have overreacted this way."

Kiyoomi looks up at that, seemingly speechless. When Atsumu doesn’t add anything else, he glances down. "Okay, thank you."

Atsumu searches his face. "Okay. And can ya tell me what really made you so pissed off?"

Kiyoomi frowns immediately. "Nothing, I don’t know. I was just annoyed, I wasn’t-"

"Okay," Atsumu stops him before they can spiral again, putting a gentle hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. "Whatever. It’s behind us. Isn’t it?"

Kiyoomi looks towards him and nods slowly. 

"Good," Atsumu nods as well, relieved. He bites his lip and drops his head to bump it into Kiyoomi’s with a sigh. He can breathe. “I’ll turn off the lights."

He gets back up and switches the lights off with a quick flick of his fingers before going back to bed. It's pitch dark, and he can’t see anything, but he knows the room so much that he can find the edge easily. 

He crawls under the sheets and makes himself comfortable, closing his eyes. He’s ready to sleep after his long, shitty day. That's what he plans to do, until he feels something draping itself around him.

It’s Kiyoomi’s arm. Slowly, Kiyoomi wraps himself around Atsumu, his leg tangling in between his, and his face burying in the crook of his neck. 

Atsumu grins to himself. 

"I love you," he hears Kiyoomi mumble into his shoulder.  

Atsumu raises his arm and starts to rub circles on Kiyoomi’s back, squeezing him. "I love you too. Always."

At the sound of that, Kiyoomi peeks his head out and searches for Atsumu’s face in the dark, going in for a kiss. Atsumu rolls himself to his side for easier access and meets Kiyoomi’s warm mouth greedily. 

Kiyoomi really does smell amazing, and his skin feels soft as Atsumu slides a hand to the back of his neck to keep him close. The kiss is slow and languid as they touch one another, Kiyoomi’s hand landing on Atsumu’s chest, while the other lifts his shirt and gently caresses his side. 

Atsumu slips in his tongue and Kiyoomi welcomes it with a moan, his nose bumping Atsumu’s as he tilts his head to kiss him even deeper, hiking his legs a little higher, one right against Atsumu's crotch.

Atsumu huffs a laugh into the kiss and moans too as Kiyoomi dutifully rubs his thigh against the bulge in Atsumu's pajamas. Letting Kiyoomi suck on his tongue, Atsumu slides his fingers through silky curls and rolls them over until he’s on top of him. 

Their mouths make a smacking sound as Atsumu pulls away, and he imagines more than he sees Kiyoomi start pouting. 

"What do ya want?" Atsumu asks, his voice a little breathless. He lets his hands relax from their grip in Kiyoomi’s hair and around his neck, resting them on his lap. Kiyoomi’s not moving from underneath him any time soon anyway. 

"I want to keep kissing my boyfriend," Kiyoomi replies in a low voice. "You’re kind of ruining the moment."

"Oh?" Atsumu tilts his head. He rolls his hips slowly, grinding into Kiyoomi’s thigh. The pressure feels better than it should be allowed to through their clothes. "And where were you goin’ with this?"

Kiyoomi reaches up and wraps his hand around Atsumu’s hip, feeling him move. "Just giving you a treat," he says. "Until you can give me yours."

Atsumu snorts, his shoulders shaking as he laughs, his hips stilling. "Oh god, Omi. That was…yeah."

"Well?"

"We’re at my pop’s house. My entire family’s down there."

It’s starting to be a little easier to see in the dark, and Atsumu sees Kiyoomi blink, mouth ticking down. "We've had sex with my family there."

Ages ago, but still.

"Your family already hates my guts and their house is gigantic," Atsumu reasons, caressing Kiyoomi’s chest with his thumb. 

Kiyoomi’s throat bobs and he squirms a little underneath Atsumu. "No they don’t," he says halfheartedly. When Atsumu snorts, he immediately goes on. "I can be quiet." 

It’s rare that Kiyoomi initiates sex, and even rarer for him to say it out loud, so Atsumu would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy this. Still, there’s his mother sleeping right underneath where their bed is, and he knows from experience just how light her sleep is (he and Osamu never did succeed in sneaking out in their seventeen years under her roof). His cock is hard from Kiyoomi’s thigh and the knowledge that all Kiyoomi is waiting for is…it. But he knows better.

Kiyoomi is barely ever noisy. Atsumu has lost track of how many times the man has made him flinch because he hadn’t realized he was in the room, he gives the coldest silent treatments he has ever been on the receiving end of, and he has gotten away with cursing at referees many times simply because they just never hear him. If anyone Kiyoomi knew was asked, they would tell you he’s a quiet guy.

Get a dick in him though, and he will start to whine like a whore.

"Ya wouldn’t be able to keep actually quiet if our lives depended on it, but that’s not even the point. The bed creaks."

He starts to roll his hips again to demonstrate his point, humping Kiyoomi’s leg with more erratic thrusts. The bed springs complain with them.

"See?"

He’s not fucking Kiyoomi tonight, not like this. It doesn’t seem to bother Kiyoomi though, who’s only started to breathe faster. 

"Take me somewhere else then," he says after Atsumu’s settled back down and silence has fallen. "I’m horny." Atsumu’s mouth falls open but before he can get a word out, Kiyoomi keeps talking. "And you can do what you want to muffle me, I think I’m in the mood where I’ll like that."

Okay, Atsumu is fucking Kiyoomi tonight. 

He leans down and cups Kiyoomi’s cheek, pressing his lips against his in a quick kiss. "Where’s the lube?", he whispers.

"In your bag," Kiyoomi answers, already breathless as his hands feel Atsumu’s back up and down.

Atsumu dips down and starts to leave hot kisses down the line of Kiyoomi’s neck, only getting himself harder and harder as his boyfriend shivers underneath him and bucks up his hips.

"No Omi, I packed the condoms, but not the lube. That was you, remember?"

Kiyoomi lets out a moan as Atsumu grazes that spot under his ear with his teeth. "No I didn’t, it’s in your bag."

Atsumu pauses at that, ignoring Kiyoomi’s annoyed huff as he pulls away again. "Baby. I never took it. Before we left, I asked you if you got the lube, remember?"

Kiyoomi searches Atsumu's face with his eyes. "No, you asked me if the lube was packed, which it is. Because I saw the bottle in your bag."

"You’re fuckin’ with me."

"No," Kiyoomi insists, letting go of Atsumu to raise himself on his elbows. 

Atsumu just gapes at him. "Well I didn’t take it."

"Just go look in the bag, okay? I know what I saw."

"Babe-"

Kiyoomi heaves out a sigh, and Atsumu decides this isn’t a battle he wants to fight for.

So he shuts up and crawls out of bed, laughing when Kiyoomi groans after he turns the lights back on. With a yawn of his own, he kneels in front of his bag and starts to dig through it. 

There is nothing in it.

"There's nothin’ in it," he says. "Where did ya say you saw it?"

"It was next to your toiletries bag, I think," Kiyoomi replies from the bed, now sitting cross-legged on it.

Atsumu continues to rummage through the contents of his bag, and his hand stops when it closes around a red bottle. He slowly raises it to show it to Kiyoomi.

"Is that it?" he asks.

Kiyoomi sits up straighter, beginning to smile. "Yes, great you found it."

Atsumu presses his lips together and drops the bottle back into the bag, defeated. "Yeah, Omi, that’s my deodorant, it’s not lube."

There’s a beat of silence before Kiyoomi’s voice reaches him like a whip. "What?"

Atsumu looks up at Kiyoomi and shakes his head to answer his incredulous eyes. "We don't have lube right now."

"Well-" Kiyoomi stammers, crawling so he’s sitting on his knees. It’s rare to see Kiyoomi get frazzled, but when he does, it’s always a show. His eyebrows are pulled together, and his mouth shapes into a frown. "Since when does your deodorant look like that?"

"Since Axe gave me one for free after my modeling shoot. It’s one of those roll-on ones."

"Ew."

Atsumu can’t help but snort at this, putting his face inside his hands. Nothing today is going the way it was supposed to, it’s easier to just laugh about it.

"So what do we do?" Kiyoomi asks quietly.

"I guess we go to sleep." Atsumu shrugs, rubbing his eyes and starting to stand up. “We ain’t gonna fuck without anythin’ slick."

He doesn’t notice Kiyoomi turning red at those words as he brushes the dust off his knees and makes his way towards the light switch once again. 

“Olive oil.”

Atsumu pauses with his hand hovering over the switch and turns around. "What?"

“Your grandfather must keep olive oil downstairs.”

Atsumu slowly smirks. “Who are you and what have you done with my Omi?”

This time, Atsumu does catch Kiyoomi blushing, his shoulders slightly curling forward. "What?”

"Yer desperate."

"Like you aren’t." 

Kiyoomi’s got a point, so Atsumu doesn’t say anything. 

Kiyoomi stands up from the bed after a beat, putting his hands on his hips. “Are you in or not?”

Atsumu is only a man, so he agrees.

He feels impossibly young as the two of them make their way downstairs on their tiptoes, hands and fingers tightly intertwined. It takes twice as long as it should, because they stop every time they hear a noise and Kiyoomi has to bite Atsumu’s shoulder to muffle his laughter by the third time the stairs squeak beneath their feet. 

They do make it to the kitchen, and they stumble into each other’s arms to make out, Atsumu greedily licking into Kiyoomi’s mouth and feeling him up until neither of them can breathe properly. 

“You kiss like a dog,” Kiyoomi comments with a whisper.

Atsumu leans up and bites his jaw in retaliation. “I’ll fuck you like one, too.”

Kiyoomi hums at the sound of that, then turns in Atsumu’s hands to face the benchtop. Atsumu plants one last kiss on Kiyoomi’s shoulder then pulls off to march towards one of the drawers, where he knows his pops keeps his seasonings, spices and various sauce bottles. He picks up the glass bottle of olive oil and grins, only for the smile to drop instantly as he feels how light it is. 

He spins around and holds it up. “Is this fuckin’ empty?”

“No,” Kiyoomi snatches the bottle, bringing it up to eye-level. “No,” he adds helplessly, slightly tilting the bottle. “Are you kidding me.”

Atsumu rests his hands on the tiled counter behind him and throws his head back with a long sigh. “Well. Something obviously doesn’t want us to have sex tonight.”

“Fuck.” Kiyoomi curses, putting the bottle back down. 

“It’s fine, Omi.”

He sees Kiyoomi looking off in the distance for a couple of seconds, and then his dark eyes turn to him, unreadable.

“If you’re about to make another suggestion for us to do it, I’m goin’ to say no this time, love,” Atsumu laughs.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

Atsumu reaches up and brushes a stray curl off of Kiyoomi’s forehead. “About what?”

“After today in the car. I was supposed to bring the lube. Aren’t you gonna get back at me.”

Ah. They’re going back to that. 

Atsumu shrugs one shoulder. “It was just a mistake.”

“Yes. Well…”

“What? Would it make you feel better if I said I told you so?”

Kiyoomi’s eyebrow twitches as he searches Atsumu’s face. “It’s not just that.”

He takes a deep breath.

“My behavior in the car earlier was not a good reflection of how I usually handle situations where things don’t go as planned-” 

Your behavior was a perfect reflection of how you usually handle situations where things don’t go how you planned them, Atsumu doesn’t say, because he values his relationship with Kiyoomi.

“-I know I have a temper that tends to be short but I really lost my patience today and I wouldn’t hold it against you if…” Kiyoomi’s mouth ticks down, “if you held it against me.”

Atsumu can only look at Kiyoomi for a few moments, speechless. The silence lasts for several seconds, until Kiyoomi raises his eyes, pout deepening. “What?”

“’xcuse me, are ya apologizin’?”

A flat look. “You don’t have to make it sound like that’s a miracle.”

“Uh, I think I do,” Atsumu teases. “Actually I didn’t even hear the words just now, ‘s like pullin’ teeth with-”

“Fine, sorry.”

Atsumu blinks.

“I’m sorry,” Kiyoomi repeats. “Are you happy now?”

Another silence, and Kiyoomi’s eyebrow furrows.

“Do you seriously-”

“Babe.”

Atsumu grabs the front of Kiyoomi’s shirt and spins them around, pressing his body against his. 

“Forget the lube,” he whispers before kissing Kiyoomi, reveling in the sharp gasp that follows.

Atsumu lays a hand on Kiyoomi’s waist, licking the inside of his mouth dutifully before pulling back with a smack and trailing his lips down Kiyoomi’s neck.

“Atsumu?” 

“Don’t wake anybody,” Atsumu orders quietly after one last kiss to the junction of Kiyoomi’s neck and his shoulder, lowering himself until he’s down on his knees. 

Kiyoomi’s dark brown eyes widen before he gives a wordless nod, relaxing against the counter and spreading his legs. At last, he lets his head hang back, expectant. 

Atsumu grins to himself. Spoiled brat.

Kiyoomi’s pajama bottoms are easy to slip down. Atsumu eyes his boyfriend’s thighs, darting out his tongue to lick at the moles he finds there, all the way up to the edge of his tight boxers.  

He teasingly kisses the tip next, making Kiyoomi dart hips forward. Atsumu hooks his thumbs underneath the boxers and pulls them down to his ankles, not wasting any time to envelop the still soft tip with his mouth. 

Kiyoomi exhales sharply, dropping a hand to run his fingers through Atsumu’s hair, gently grasping the back of his head. 

Atsumu sucks, hollowing his cheeks and moving his tongue back and forth across the underside. He enjoys the feeling of his boyfriend’s cock hardening in his mouth, standing at attention right in front of his face.

Blunt nails scratch at his scalp and Atsumu blinks up, smiling internally as he sees Kiyoomi’s eyelids drooping in tandem. 

As he starts going down deeper, Atsumu closes his eyes too, focusing on the task at hand. He finds his rhythm, the one that has Kiyoomi gripping his hair so hard it almost hurts. He pays it no mind, bobbing his head steadily and playing with the limits of his gag reflex. 

With his eyes closed and the silence that surrounds them, Atsumu can’t help but feel overcome by the taste of it, of all things. Like all dicks in this scenario, it tastes like skin, and maybe salt, but Atsumu can pick up soap too, because Kiyoomi, God Almighty, insists on buying a very specific low-irritant body wash for their dicks, a fact that Atsumu has made fun of him for thousands of times, and he wants to scream now because his boyfriend’s fucking cock tastes so fucking clean, kind of like almonds, and mostly just so like Kiyoomi that it is really turning him on.

With his head light, Atsumu raises a hand, using it to stroke the small part of the length he can’t take. 

Kiyoomi must be doing a good job at muffling himself because Atsumu doesn’t hear a peep. Instead, the subtle back and forth of Kiyoomi’s hips, pushing his dick that much deeper into Atsumu’s mouth tells him he’s doing a good job. 

He hums quietly and pulls back enough to swirl his tongue around the tip, lathering it with his spit. Kiyoomi might say he doesn’t like the mess, but Atsumu believes half the fun in a blowjob is in making it as sloppy as possible. Kiyoomi secretly agrees.

Usually this is when he would get the lube, slather his fingers with it and start prodding a little bit south of where he currently is, but since that’s not possible, he quickly spits into his free hand and starts playing with Kiyoomi’s balls. 

“Mmh…” Kiyoomi audibly grunts when Atsumu takes him back into his mouth, letting his tongue slide messily across the underside.

Not long after, he’s tapping his fingers on the back of Atsumu’s neck in warning, his hips now definitely moving in tandem with the rhythm Atsumu has set.

Atsumu grins, and pulls off, completely. He stops his hands too, keeping them still where they hold onto Kiyoomi’s dick and his balls. 

When he looks up, he finds Kiyoomi already glaring back at him, his lips turned down to a frustrated pout. They’re awfully red and plumper than usual, probably because he was biting them to stay silent. Atsumu tsks quietly and shakes his head, teasing grin only growing wider as Kiyoomi rolls his eyes exasperatedly.

Atsumu plays with him just a little longer, just because he can, giving slow licks to the slit of Kiyoomi’s dick, which curves upward against his toned stomach.

“’Tsumu,” Kiyoomi murmurs, almost a whimper, pulling Atsumu’s hair. 

Atsumu hums and finally takes pity on his boyfriend, sucking the whole tip into his mouth before sinking down dutifully.

It takes maybe four or five pulls around the swollen cock before Atsumu feels warm liquid down his throat and hears a desperate moan from Kiyoomi.

Atsumu swallows, wrinkling his nose, and after all is said and done, he sighs and rests his forehead against Kiyoomi’s thigh. The fingers in his hair loosen their tight grip and start stroking them gently instead, making Atsumu smile.

“I really was sorry, you know,” Kiyoomi whispers after a moment of silence, breathless. 

Atsumu snorts.

He presses one last kiss to Kiyoomi’s thigh then pulls his pajamas back up, standing in the same movement. 

“Real piece of work you are, Sakusa Kiyoomi,” he says without even really meaning it.

Maybe Kiyoomi’s attitude would’ve gotten under his skin at the start of their relationship, maybe it will truly anger him ten years from now, when they’ll have had the same argument too many times. But when he looks at Kiyoomi today, he feels like he’s under a spell. He only sees the love that ties them together, he sees Kiyoomi reaching for his hand when nobody is looking, like a magnet, he sees himself at nineteen, on the phone at 2am listening to Kiyoomi rant about his collegiate team, he sees their unrestrained shared passion for volleyball, he sees the comfortable silences between them that no one else understands, he sees Kiyoomi sitting at the table with Atsumu’s grandfather, perfectly at ease. He sees family and his future. 

Kiyoomi pulls Atsumu closer by the front of his shirt, raising an eyebrow. Atsumu glances at his moles for a second. “So how do you wanna come?”

Atsumu shrugs one shoulder and slips his hand down his pants. “I’ll just jerk off.”

Kiyoomi’s mouth goes flat, his gaze following Atsumu’s hand, which has already started moving.

Again, Atsumu is only a man.

“How romantic.”

Atsumu grins and picks up the pace, fast just like he loves it.

“I’d rather my Omi’s hands stay clean and he…just keep looking pretty.”

“Asshole.”

Atsumu huffs out a laugh, watching Kiyoomi watch him pump his cock. Already the heat in his stomach starts to spread, pleasure rushing all the way down to his toes.

“Y’know just how to talk to me.”

“Mmm. Fine. If you want to be boring.” Kiyoomi’s lips quirk up. He tugs at Atsumu’s shirt, pulling him impossibly closer, before he leans forward and presses a couple of long kisses in his neck. “Is that good?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu breathes, tilting his head obediently. The hand that’s not gripping his dick flies up to Kiyoomi’s hair, getting lost through silky curls. Kiyoomi’s breath on his skin makes him shiver, but he doesn’t want him to go anywhere other than right here. “Yeah, Omi-kun, yeah.”

“Shhh. Remember, we have to be quiet,” Kiyoomi murmurs, moving his lips all the way down Atsumu’s shoulder.

Fuck. Atsumu grinds his teeth, fighting fiercely against a groan as his own tempo starts to get to his head. It doesn’t help that it’s otherwise completely silent in the kitchen, the sounds of his hand rubbing his cock and of his heavy breathing filling his ears. 

He needs to bite his tongue to keep from moaning out in bliss. It’s good, it’s good, it’s so good when he’s like this.

Kiyoomi stops at the junction of his neck to suck at his skin and Atsumu’s hips stutter, his body completely flush against Kiyoomi’s at this point. 

He swipes his thumb over his tip quickly before picking up his pace again, the wet sounds absolutely obscene in the otherwise silent room.

He lasts two, maybe three minutes before his knees start to shake. It’s fucking embarrassing, because he’s not seventeen, so he shuts his eyes tight and wills himself into holding back, but Kiyoomi clocks him anyway. 

“Close, Atsu?” Kiyoomi asks, voice low, and Atsumu nods, helpless.

“Mhm.”

“Aren’t you easy.” Kiyoomi pushes gently at his chest to separate them, his hand coming up to cup Atsumu’s jaw. “Didn’t you say you wanted me to be pretty while you’re doing this? You could at least look at me.”

“Yer beautiful, darlin’,” Atsumu groans out without pause, raising his eyes to look at Kiyoomi’s face.

It really is strikingly pretty, so much it’s frustrating, because Atsumu has to hold back from pulling him in and locking their lips. Kiyoomi has voiced multiple times that he was uncomfortable kissing after Atsumu had just swallowed his cum. Atsumu knows it grosses him out. All of this can’t prevent the urge Atsumu gets at this moment to kiss Kiyoomi senseless. If  Kiyoomi let him, he would put his lips on every inch of his skin. 

As if reading his mind, Kiyoomi’s smug smile widens. He uses his honeyed voice, the one he only uses for Atsumu. “You’re sure you don’t want a hand?”

“Baby,” Atsumu gives a low whine. “Yeah, you can- Yeah.”

Biting his lip hard, he forces himself to slow down to a stop and get his hand off his dick, throwing his head back and breathing out a moan as it’s instantly replaced by long expert fingers. 

He distantly hears Kiyoomi sigh, his ears ringing as the pleasure mounts in his body, tingling up to the tip of his fingers. “And you say I’m loud.”

“G-go faster.”

“Do I really need to? You’re humping my hand anyway.”

Atsumu gasps. “Faster.”

“Okay, okay.” Kiyoomi shushes him, speeding it up. 

Atsumu’s hips keep kicking deliciously towards Kiyoomi’s hand, the thrusts quickly turning more and more erratic until Atsumu reaches his climax, his eyes all but rolling back into his head in relief as he spills all over his boyfriend’s fingers. 

“There you go,” Kiyoomi murmurs soothingly, watching intently as Atsumu shakes through his orgasm, muffling himself with his own fist.

After it’s over, Atsumu finds Kiyoomi already reaching for the paper towels, eager to clean off Atsumu’s cum. Atsumu hums in satisfaction, lips pulling into a comfortable grin. His body is spent, relaxed, still warm and tingly, and he loves that feeling. 

“I’m goin’ to sleep so fuckin’ well now,” he whispers, earning himself a snort from Kiyoomi, who glances at him.

“Where did the oil bottle go again?”

“Over here.” Atsumu points at the drawer right next to his leg. They switch places so Atsumu can lean against the counter, watching as Kiyoomi puts the bottle in its right place and closes the drawer with minimal noise, throwing his tissue in the trash afterwards.

“All good. Let’s go upstairs,” Kiyoomi whispers.

Atsumu grabs his wrist and pulls him back. “Wait, we’re good here. Hug me. Two minutes.”

Kiyoomi lets himself get dragged closer but puts a hand on Atsumu’s chest to avoid getting pulled completely against him, raising one perfect eyebrow. “We can hug and cuddle in our bed, where we can also sleep.”

“Nah-ah. ‘Cause now we have to wash up again. And by the time we get to bed our sex glow will be gone.”

“Our sex glow?”

Atsumu nods tiredly. “Yep.”

Kiyoomi stares at him flatly for a couple more seconds, lips twitching. “Atsumu.”

“Please.”

Kiyoomi snorts again, opening his arms and allowing Atsumu to wrap himself around him completely, his head resting in the crook of Kiyoomi’s neck.  

“One minute,” Kiyoomi murmurs.

Atsumu hums in approval, content. He inhales deeply, basking in Kiyoomi’s embrace, and the rare quietness of his home.

After a moment, Kiyoomi takes to rubbing his hand up and down between Atsumu’s shoulder blades, making him relax even further. The day feels like it’s melting away with each passing second.

“You know,” Kiyoomi suddenly says out loud, pulling Atsumu out of his thoughts, “it’s nice to see you vulnerable like this.”

There’s a beat of silence, before Atsumu starts shaking with laughter in his arms. “What are ya, a serial killer?” Atsumu leans back and searches Kiyoomi’s face, letting out a chortle. 

There’s a little crease between Kiyoomi’s eyebrows as he looks for his words.

“I mean, in our everyday life we always go through the motions. We’re surrounded by the team almost all the time. Between games and practice and travel, we don’t take the time to just…be together and live in the moment. Know what I mean?” 

“I guess, yeah.”

“Well it’s different here. I think you let go when you’re with family.” Kiyoomi squeezes his arms tighter around Atsumu. “I like that I can be with you for that. Makes me feel like you trust me.”

Atsumu’s heart softens. “I do trust ya.”

“Good,” Kiyoomi says, sounding adorably determined. “Because I want to know all of you. And I want you to let me take care of you, if you ever need it. Even if you’re a proud, strong guy.”

Atsumu blinks, taken aback by that last comment. 

Sure, Atsumu’s always been a guy guy, so to speak. People say he speaks too loud, he always manspreads in the subway, and there was definitely a time that he freaked out at the mere idea of bottoming after he found out he liked dudes. 

Meanwhile Kiyoomi is pretty much a poster child for a rich family’s last kid. There’s no denying that he’s been taken care of by the people around him his entire life; he’s seen enough pictures of baby Kiyoomi in his nurse’s arms (until the grand age of four years old) to know that. 

And Atsumu is no exception. Ever since they started dating, they’ve naturally adopted these roles. Atsumu holds doors for Kiyoomi, he drives him places, he carries the grocery bags, he wraps his arms around him when they’re watching a horror movie, he mostly tops during sex. He’s never thought twice about it.

Does Kiyoomi feel like Atsumu is guarded with him? Is Atsumu guarded?

The thought doesn’t sit right with him. He is the way he is around Kiyoomi because it feels right, because he wants to give him everything for as long as Kiyoomi’ll let him. That being said, there’s no doubt in his mind that Kiyoomi would have his back if something bad were to happen to him. 

He doesn’t know what more he should do or feel on the subject. 

He raises an eyebrow, keeping his musings away for the time being. “You ‘been holdin’ onto that for a while?”

Kiyoomi’s cheeks take on a pink shade. “Not really…I guess being here made me think about this stuff.”

“My Omi,” Atsumu says softly, running the tip of his nose across Kiyoomi’s jawline. “Hey, tell me somethin’.”

Kiyoomi looks down. “What?” 

“Ya think you’re more yerself too, when yer around yer family?”

Kiyoomi looks a little taken aback by the question, his forehead creasing as he frowns. “Well, I guess no one knows me better than Komori-”

“Nah, doesn’t count. I mean your parents. Siblings. Y’know.”

“I’m probably different around them. But more myself?” Kiyoomi looks briefly down at the ground. “I don’t think so. You’ve seen how they are.”

Not really, Atsumu thinks to himself. He has stayed over at Kiyoomi’s parents’ a couple of times when there have been games planned in Tokyo. He has had countless dinners with them. But he wouldn’t go so far as saying that they all got to know one another. It has been fairly obvious from the start that they don’t appreciate Atsumu much, although Kiyoomi’s explanations are never clear on why that is. 

Atsumu isn’t the first boyfriend Kiyoomi has brought home and he never got the feeling that this was the issue. Kiyoomi wasn’t scared or apprehensive about introducing them. It mostly feels like Kiyoomi and his parents are from different worlds. It’s weird. 

The bottom line is that maybe Atsumu hasn’t tried hard enough because Kiyoomi is always saying that he doesn’t mind that Atsumu isn’t close with the Sakusas, and that he doesn’t see his family that often anyway.

He needs to change that.

“We should go on a trip with yer folks.”

Kiyoomi blinks, slowly.

“I’m serious.”

“Atsumu, I didn’t tell you this so you would feel the need to force yourself to get along with my parents,” Kiyoomi says incredulously. 

Atsumu licks his lips, resettling his hands around his boyfriend’s waist. “No, I know that. But it doesn’t hurt to try, right?”

Kiyoomi makes a face, wincing a little at that comment. It rips a laugh out of Atsumu. 

“A trip might be pushin’ it a little,” he tries to concede. “How ‘bout the Golden Week? We could stay with ‘em.”

“But why?”

“’Cause I love ya, and they have to get used to that, idiot.” Atsumu reaches up to poke Kiyoomi’s scrunched nose. “I wanna let ´em know we’re gonna be together forever.”

Kiyoomi’s face softens. “We are?”

Atsumu doesn’t answer, just lets his fingers drag through Kiyoomi’s dark curls, drawing him in and pressing their lips together. They share a long kiss, that has the both of them pulling back with a content sigh.

“I’mma make ‘em get to know me, then I’ll ask if I can take ya to Thailand to elope.” Atsumu grins. “They look like they’d love that sorta thing, right?”

At the mention of marriage, the blush that was dusting Kiyoomi’s cheeks visibly spreads, his ears and whole face turning red. 

He sputters, before hissing sharply, “That’s just the sex glow talking.”

“You would think.” Atsumu winks.

It takes everything in him not to laugh as Kiyoomi seems yet again at a loss for words. There will come a day, he promises himself, when Kiyoomi will want to marry you without a second thought.

“It’s a conversation for another night,” he relents, when Kiyoomi doesn’t say anything. 

First step: the parents.

Yeah, that’s a good plan.