Chapter Text
“I don’t think your mom likes me very much,” Kiyoomi said as he drove himself and Atsumu back to Osaka.
“What’re ya talking about?” Atsumu shot back, sounding genuinely confused, “She loved ya!”
Kiyoomi grunted, unconvinced, but he wasn’t going to argue with Atsumu on this. Even though he was pretty sure that Miya-san giving him the exact same look Osamu had the first time Kiyoomi had seen him as Atsumu’s boyfriend instead of just his teammate was not a good sign. Osamu had come around on him, after a series of very detailed threats of what he’d do if Kiyoomi ever hurt his brother. But Osamu had at least known Kiyoomi before he’d started dating his brother; Miya-san did not have any pre-existing reason to think he’d be good for her son in any way.
Atsumu leaned over the center console and bumped his head against Kiyoomi’s arm, bringing him back from his (perfectly reasonable) spiral.
“I promise that she liked ya,” He said more gently, “She’s just bein’ a little overprotective cause she knows how I get with love stuff.”
Kiyoomi snorted. “You mean that you’re dramatic?”
Atsumu chuckled. “Yeah.” He straightened back up. “So when do I get ta meet yer folks now?”
Kiyoomi scoffed as if Atsumu had made an awful pun. “Never.”
“Whaaa?! Why?!”
“I’m pretty sure they’re still hoping I’ll marry one of their business partners’ daughters.”
“They just gotta meet me an’ then they’ll fall in love with me an’ change their minds,” He boasted.
“You overestimate your charm,” Kiyoomi retorted, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips.
Atsumu gasped, aghast, and then broke out laughing.
__________
Kiyoomi’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. His right pinky was starting to tingle from holding the wheel so tightly for so long. His eyes were dry and his jaw was clenched. He hadn’t paid attention to what time it was when he’d left his childhood home, and the drive had sort of become one big blur, but, according to the little “trip time” number displayed on his dashboard, it had been just over seven hours.
He didn’t realize how much the air had been trapped in his lungs until he rounded the corner onto Atsumu’s street and felt like he could breathe again for the first time since this morning. His chest ached and he was relieved when he could pull into the gravel driveway and put his car in park because his body was starting to feel weak and heat was rapidly building behind his eyes.
“Yeah, I’m gettin’ it. Jeez!” He heard Atsumu call back to someone else inside after he knocked on the front door. Just hearing his voice pushed him over the edge; the tears broke through the dam with the force of a waterfall.
The second the door opened, Kiyoomi launched himself into Atsumu’s arms as the sobs took over.
“Huh? Omi-omi?” Atsumu reacted, catching his boyfriend and immediately holding him tight, “Wha? What’s wrong? What’s goin’ on?”
Kiyoomi couldn’t speak, any attempt at a word would get swallowed by another whole-body sob. So he just pressed his face into Atsumu’s neck and held the back of his hoodie in tight fists.
“Okay,” Atsumu said gently, “Come on, Kiyoomi, let’s go sit down. Shh, baby, I gotchu.” He carefully led Kiyoomi the couple steps to the couch where they collapsed together, Kiyoomi a blubbering heap in his arms. Atsumu stroked his hair and rubbed his hand up and down against his back.
Osamu and their mother came out from the kitchen to see who was at the door and Osamu froze like a deer in headlights at the sight of Sakusa Kiyoomi , 189 centimeters of unfriendly professional athlete, curled in on himself, racked with sobs, practically burrowing into his brother’s sweatshirt.
Osamu looked at his brother, engaging in a completely silent, wide-eyed conversation.
What the hell is happening?
I… I don’t know.
Atsumu quickly refocused his attention on his boyfriend. He wiped the tears from his cheek, kissed his forehead, and then tucked him back under his chin.
By the time Sakusa was calmed down enough to talk, he’d left a patch of tears (and probably some snot) soaked into Atsumu’s hoodie and Ms. Miya had reemerged from the kitchen with a mug of jasmine tea. Kiyoomi nearly burst out crying again because Atsumu’s mother had remembered what kind of tea he liked.
“Think ya can tell me what’s goin’ on, baby? I thought ya were in Tokyo?” Atsumu asked, so much worry swimming around his hazel eyes.
Kiyoomi nodded and took a deep, if still a little shaky, breath. He held Atsumu’s hand tighter and stared down at it in his lap as he spoke. “My parents kicked me out.”
“Huh? Wha’d’ya mean they kicked ya out? Why?”
“Kicked me out, cut me off, writing me out of their wills. I’m pretty sure they’ve both blocked my number already.” He didn’t even have it in him for a bitter laugh. It just hurt. When nobody said anything else, he continued explaining, “I asked them about introducing you.” He glanced up so his gaze met his boyfriend’s for just a moment. “And they said that if I insisted on being with a man, I couldn’t…”
“Shit, Omi,” Atsumu breathed, “I wouldn’t’a pestered ya about it if I knew ya weren’t out ta them.”
He shook his head quickly. “It’s not… Like, they knew when I dated guys before, but I guess they really did just think it was some phase . Some teenage rebellion I’d grow out of or something.”
“Shit,” Atsumu said again.
Osamu, who had finally stopped standing in the doorway like a frozen idiot, echoed his twin, “Shit.”
Kiyoomi just nodded. He picked up the tea and took a sip, Atsumu’s hand hovering close by just in case.
After a moment of heavy silence, Atsumu said, “Wait. How did ya even get here?”
Kiyoomi met his gaze, able to muster up just enough attitude to convey the Isn’t it obvious?
“Kiyoomi!” Atsumu nearly shrieked, “Ya drove all the way here from Tokyo?!”
All Kiyoomi did was take another sip of his tea.
“Driving while all emotional is super dangerous! Ya shoulda just called me!”
“I didn’t cry at all while I was driving,” Kiyoomi insisted, a little petulantly, “I repressed it until I got here.”
Atsumu sighed and it was almost a laugh. “Fuck. I love ya and ‘m glad yer here, but don’t do that shit ever again.”
“Okay.” He set his mug back down on the coffee table and rested his head back against Atsumu’s chest. Then he looked over to the other Miyas that he hadn’t dared to look at before now. “Sorry for barging in like this,” He said, nodding his head in as much of an apologetic bow as he could achieve while still curled up in a ball and pressed against his boyfriend.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ms. Miya barked, standing up from the chair she’d been in, “Yer part of this family now and this is yer house too. You come absolutely whenever ya need to.”
Kiyoomi failed at swallowing the lump in his throat. “Thank you,” He managed before bursting into tears again and accepting Ms. Miya’s hug.
The Miyas were kind enough to change the subject and chatter on about people Atsumu and Osamu went to high school with while Kiyoomi slowly calmed his emotions, sometimes dissolving back into quiet tears and hiding his face in Atsumu’s neck while he rubbed circles over his back.
Finally, everyone had settled down enough to call it a night.
“I’ll change the sheets so you can sleep in my bed,” Astumu told him, “‘n I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Kiyoomi just held eye contact, frowning.
“Or ya can sleep on the couch.”
Kiyoomi’s frown deepened into a little pout.
“Unless ya really wanna cram into a twin bed with me.”
Atsumu was helpless against Kiyoomi’s cute pouty mouth and big dark eyes.
“Gah! Okay. But don’t complain ta me in the mornin’ that it’s too small, cause I told ya it was.”
“I won’t,” Sakusa said with a smug little grin.
Osamu hurriedly texted Suna:
Osamu:
They’re real!!!!
Suna:
?
Osamu:
Sakusa’s puppy-dog eyes
I can’t believe Sumu wasn’t lyin
Suna:
omg lol
i think i owe komori money now
“Sorry,” Kiyoomi whispered into Atsumu’s clean sweatshirt he’d changed into before they’d squeezed into his childhood bed, “For barging in on your time with your family.”
“Phshh,” Atsumu scoffed, “I was missin’ ya anyway.” He nearly died at the way Kiyoomi snuggled closer against him. He wrapped his legs around Kiyoomi’s middle and stroked his hair where his head was down by Atsumu’s chest. “Thanks,” He whispered after a moment in the quiet dark of his childhood bedroom, “Fer tryin’ ta talk to yer parents about me ‘cause ya knew how important it is ta me. Now, ‘course, I only wanna meet ‘em ta smack some sense into their—”
Kiyoomi breathed a laugh, catching Atsumu completely off guard. “I love you.”
“Mmm. I love ya too.”
“As cute as you two are,” Osamu said, lying on his back on the twin bed on the opposite wall of the room, “Can ya please not be all mushy when I’m right here ?”
They all giggled at that.
The next morning, Osamu crept back into their bedroom to grab something. When he’d gotten up, Atsumu and Sakusa had still been fast asleep and he assumed that they still were, but, as he was being careful not to have the high pitched creek of the door wake the couple up, he was greeted with his twin’s face, very much awake.
“Why do ya look constipated?” He asked judgmentally, though still whispering to keep from waking Sakusa who was curled around Atsumu with his closed eyes still a little red and puffy from the night before.
“I need ta take a piss so bad,” Atsumu whined.
“Then go piss, idiot.”
“I can’t!”
Osamu raised his eyebrows at him.
“I don’t want him ta wake up alone.”
Osamu rolled his eyes. Atsumu was being ridiculous, but it was kind of sweet. “Fine then. Piss the bed with her germaphobe boyfriend in it.”
“‘S called mysophobia,” He corrected before going back to whining, “Samuuuu!”
“What da ya want me ta do about it? It’s not like we can pull a parent trap on yer boyfriend. I sure as hell hope ‘e can tell us apart.”
“Ugh, fine!” He started the process of carefully disentangling himself from Kiyoomi.
Kiyoomi grumbled a little and then rubbed his eyes. “Mmm. Morning,” He said groggily.
“Good morning, Omi-omi!” Atsumu smacked a kiss on his forehead and then shot out of the bed and announced, “I have ta piss so bad I might explode,” and then ran to the bathroom.
“Gross,” Kiyoomi commented.
Kiyoomi and Osamu went about their business, Osamu getting what it was he went in there for and Kiyoomi grabbing a clean change of clothes from his suitcase. As Osamu headed back toward the rest of the house, he said quietly, “Sorry. ‘Bout yer parents.”
“Thanks,” Kiyoomi responded, “Sorry for interrupting your time with your family.”
“Nah,” Osamu waved him off, “‘E’d just talk about ya the whole time anyway. Much less annoyin’ fer ya to actually be here.”
Sakusa grinned. Osamu was still not used to seeing Sakusa show any kind of emotion that didn’t fall between mild irritation and full on rage, but over the last year or so, and even with a mask on, Osamu had seen the way he softened when he looked at his brother.
Kiyoomi was alone in the Miya house, bustling around in the kitchen. He’d told Atsumu that he was in no way allowed to skip the plans he had with his brother and mother in order to stay back with Kiyoomi. After assuring him that he’d be okay, the Miyas left to visit the Inarizaki volleyball team (which Ms. Miya was apparently still pretty involved with, helping them fundraise and helping the managers mend uniforms and torn nets).
Meanwhile, Kiyoomi had snooped through the cupboards to get an idea of the kind of food Atsumu’s mother enjoyed, went to the store, and started making a large batch of thumbprint cookies.
His phone began to ring in his pocket, so he took off one of his nitrile gloves and put it on speaker, replacing his glove and continuing to measure out the flour.
“Where the hell are you?” Motoya yelled as soon as Kiyoomi answered, “I’ve been banging on your door for five minutes!”
“I’m not home,” Kiyoomi answered matter of factly.
“Yeah, I figured that much. Akari told me what happened…”
Kiyoomi drew his lips into a tight line and nodded. He knew Motoya couldn’t see him, but he was confident that his cousin understood his silence. He’d almost forgotten that his sister had been set to arrive at his parents house this morning.
“Where are you now?”
“Atsumu’s.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in a couple minutes.”
“Not his apartment.”
“Huh?”
“We’re at his mom’s house. In Hyogo.”
“Oh! Okay, I gotta go. Talk to you soon, Kiyoomi. Oh, and, please call your sister back before she files a missing persons report.”
“I was asleep when she called,” Kiyoomi grumbled defensively.
“Yeah but I’m pretty sure she’ll tear all of Tokyo and Osaka apart to find you.” It sounded a little like he’d taken off running.
“I’ll call her.”
“Good. See you soon.”
When Atsumu got home, Kiyoomi was rolling the cookie dough into flat disks on a baking sheet. He ran over, pulled off a lump of cookie dough, and popped it in his mouth before his boyfriend could stop him.
“Don’t eat that,” Kiyoomi scolded him, “If you get sick from the raw eggs or flour, I swear—”
“I’ll be fine, Omi,” Atsumu insisted, “I just ate a teeny bit.”
Kiyoomi glared at him over his mask. It was relievingly normal, Kiyoomi’s disapproving glare, but he noticed the reinvigorated red of his eyes and the way his damp eyelashes clumped together. He cupped Kiyoomi’s face and his boyfriend let him interrupt what he was doing to pull down his mask and press their lips together.
“You been cryin’ again?” Atsumu asked, placing a kiss at the corner of Kiyoomi’s eye.
“A little,” He admitted, “I talked to my sister. She got there this morning and her and my brother are gonna try to talk to my parents.”
Atsumu nodded, petting Kiyoomi’s cheek with his thumb.
“I doubt anything’ll come of it, but it’s nice that they care.” He grimaced at the unfamiliar feeling of emotional vulnerability.
Atsumu squished his cheeks and covered his face with kisses. “So why’re ya makin’ cookies?”
Kiyoomi pulled his mask back up and got back to work on the cookies. “These are for your mother. As a thanks for letting me stay here.”
“Ya mean they’re not for me?!” Atsumu hopped up on the clean section of counter and reached for more cookie dough; Kiyoomi smacked his hand away.
“Why would I make cookies for you?” He grinned under his mask as Atsumu gasped dramatically. He craned his neck up so Atsumu would pull his mask back down and give him another kiss, which he did. “Why are you back early anyway?”
“Wanted t’ check on my Omi-omi.”
“You didn’t need to do that,” Kiyoomi grumbled.
Atsumu shrugged. “We were done at the school anyway. Ma was just talking to Coach Kurosu’s wife ‘n it was borin.’ Bet Samu wishes ‘e had an excuse to get outta it.” He snickered and hopped off the counter. “What’re ya doin?’” He asked, resting his chin on Kiyoomi’s shoulder and watching him press his gloved thumb into the center of each cookie, leaving a divot in each one.
“Making the spaces for the jam.”
The next moment when Kiyoomi looked over to see what Atsumu was doing (it had been quiet for a suspicious amount of time), he saw Atsumu with one glove on, pushing his own thumb into the cookies. “What are you doing?” He accused.
“I made ‘em little hearts!” Atsumu said proudly, gesturing to the cookies. With their thumbprints overlapping, the depressions in the dough did look like wonky hearts. Kiyoomi’s face flamed with the flustered blush Atsumu loved so much. Atsumu beamed and kissed Kiyoomi’s bright red ears and nipped at his cheek. He giggled as Kiyoomi pushed him off to finish putting the jam in the, now heart-shaped, thumbprints and then put them in the oven.
“Timer’s all set?” Atsumu asked after Kiyoomi closed the oven door and entered the time into the oven.
“Yeah.” He furrowed his brow at the unnecessary question, but then Atsumu shot him a toothy grin, pulled the gloves off Kiyoomi’s hands and then dragged him into the bedroom where he pushed him over onto the twin bed.
Kiyoomi laughed through his nose as he bounced on the mattress and his boyfriend crawled on top of him. He wrapped his arms around Atsumu’s neck as they made out and then slid his hands up his shirt when Atsumu moved down to kiss his neck.
“Love ya so much. My Omi,” Atsumu muttered between open-mouthed kisses, “So pretty, and smart, and sweet.”
Kiyoomi covered his burning face, but didn’t tell him to stop. He always got a little flustered when Atsumu complimented him like this, but this time he was more embarrassed that it was exactly what he needed in that moment. And of course Atsumu somehow knew that, as he kept whispering praises as his mouth worked over Kiyoomi’s skin.
“Come ‘ere,” Kiyoomi huffed, pulling his boyfriend up to his mouth. Atsumu happily obliged.
Kiyoomi flipped them over, very nearly miscalculating the size of the twin bed and sending Atsumu crashing to the ground. But they managed to keep from falling, a slightly awkward tangle of limbs. Atsumu laughed and then hummed happily when Kiyoomi pushed his shirt up to begin kissing his stomach, giving him something he likes in return. Atsumu pushed both hands into Kiyoomi’s curls.
“Mmmh, Kiyoomi.”
The timer on the oven went off and Kiyoomi swiftly sat up, righted himself, and then returned to the kitchen to take the cookies out of the oven.
Atsumu came out of his childhood bedroom a moment later, pouting.
“What’s that face for?” Kiyoomi sighed.
“I wanted more kisses,” Atsumu huffed.
“You wanted to let the cookies burn?” Kiyoomi deadpanned, putting the oven mitts away and turning off the oven.
“Maybe I’ll forgive you for depriving me ,” Atsumu said dramatically, “If I can have some cookies.” He reached for one, but Kiyoomi grabbed his arm to stop him.
“They’re for your mom, not you. And you’ll get burned if you eat one now.”
Both of them knowing full well that Atsumu would get a cookie once they cooled down, they settled on the couch to scroll through their own phones while leaning against each other.
All three Miyas and Kiyoomi moved around the small kitchen, helping Ms. Miya with dinner (they’d already made a dent in the cookies). Kiyoomi was carefully cutting vegetables and Atsumu had just been sent to set the table when someone knocked on the door. Osamu went to answer.
“Who’s that?” Kiyoomi asked. He really was not in the mood to meet new people right now.
“Should be Rintaro-kun,” Miya-san answered happily.
Kiyoomi nodded, a little relieved. He wasn’t scared of Suna Rintaro, even with his phone full of blackmail on everyone he knew.
“Sumu!” Osamu called from the living room, “Add ‘nother place ta the table.”
“I already made one for Sunarin, ya scrub!” Atsumu shouted back.
“Yeah, I said another one, asshole!” He entered the kitchen with two guests in tow.
Ms. Miya was quick to put down her spoon and give Suna a hug. “Rintaro-kun, how are you?”
“‘M good, Miya-san, thanks.”
Osamu went into the dining room to fight with his brother, leaving the second newcomer to stand there awkwardly. Kiyoomi raised his eyebrows at his cousin.
“This is my teammate, Komori-kun,” Suna introduced, “He’s also Sakusa’s cousin.”
Motoya bowed. “Sorry for intruding, Miya-san. I just wanted to come see how my cousin was doing.”
“Of course!” Ms. Miya said, “‘M glad he has some family to rely on. Where’re ya stayin’?”
“At Suna-kun’s house.”
“Very good. Go ahead and sit down. Dinner’s almost ready. You too, Kiyoomi-kun.”
They both nodded and joined the other guys at the dining room table that they’d had to pull up extra folding chairs to to accommodate all six of them. Kiyoomi was relegated to one of the old metal folding chairs, since the fourth wooden chair was apparently Suna’s.
Kiyoomi eyed the Raijin MB. “Should I assume you’ve been thoroughly filled in?”
“Yep,” Suna answered as casually as if they were discussing the outcome of a game, “Even got to talk to yer sister a little.”
Kiyoomi glared at Motoya.
“I called her on the way to see if there were any updates,” He said defensively.
“And?” Atsumu looked between his boyfriend and Motoya, a little worry bubbling to the surface and showing on his face.
“My brother wasn’t supposed to get there until tonight,” Kiyoomi answered for him, “So I doubt they’ve had time to prepare an argument yet, let alone actually plead my case. It won’t change their minds anyway.” The words tasted bitter and just saying them made him feel tired. Atsumu took Kiyoomi’s hand under the table and gave it a squeeze.
Motoya deflated. “I never expected they’d go that far.”
“Me either.”
“Well fuck them,” Suna said, rasing his glass as if it was a toast.
Kiyoomi nearly got defensive, but then realized yeah, fuck them , and raised his glass as well.
Atsumu and Osamu helped their mom bring dinner to the table.
“So how are we telling the rest of the Jackals?” Suna asked, filling his plate, “I’m thinking a big poster that says ‘I got disowned ‘cause I’m gay.’ And balloons.”
“Rin,” Osamu warned quietly.
“What makes you think you’re participating?” Kiyoomi shot back, unbothered. Suna’s flippant attitude should probably piss him off, but it matched his own preferred approach to everything: blunt and impersonal.
“I gotta be there to capture the only group hug involving Sakusa Kiyoomi the world has ever seen.”
Atsumu snickered while Kiyoomi groaned. “I’ll tell them over the phone then.”
“They’ll still wanna hug ya the next time they see ya,” Atsumu added before shoveling more food into his mouth.
“Have you told your coach and manager yet?” Motoya asked.
Kiyoomi shook his head. “It’s one of the many things on my list.” Atsumu patted his back a little.
“Do ya need help with anything?” Ms. Miya asked, making Kiyoomi feel all warm and fuzzy. He grinned at her.
“Not at the moment. But I won’t hesitate to reach out if I do, thank you, Miya-san. I’ll call Foster tomorrow. I’ll probably still be off my game at the beginning of the season,” He began rattling off everything he needed to do, eyes locked on the food on his plate, “And I should talk to PR about avoiding interview questions about my family. I have to actually figure out the most painless way to tell people. I should probably move to somewhere with cheaper rent—”
“So they’ve really totally cut you off?” Motoya asked.
Kiyoomi nodded. “I tried the debit card attached to my trust at the store earlier. It was declined.”
Motoya leaned back in his seat, brow furrowed and mouth hanging slightly open, as if part of his world was shifting. Kiyoomi could relate. Even without any of his inheritance, Kiyoomi was okay financially. Most of his allowance as a kid had gone into a savings account under his name (at his parents’ recommendation) and he had a couple years of professional athlete money under his belt. But, while he’d graduate without any debt, he hadn’t been working for the four years he was in college…
“Well Sumu was already talkin’ about askin’ ya to move in together. So that’ll make rent cheaper,” Osamu said through a mouthful of rice.
“Samu!” Atsumu screeched, “I wanted ta tell ‘im that, ya scrub!” He flailed his limbs over the table at his brother, who fought back without even changing his neutral expression.
Kiyoomi had frozen with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. When his brain got back up and running, he said, “Atsu.”
“Yeah, baby?” Atsumu was bright red and looking a little nervous.
“You want to live with me?”
“Duh! Do you wanna live with me?” It was really cute the way he seemed almost shy as he asked. If Kiyoomi’s heart wasn’t already a melted puddle of goo, it was now.
“I wouldn’t hate it,” He said with a pleased smirk.
“What kinda answer is that, ya asshole?” But he was grinning ear to ear.
“Fine. Yes. Is that better?”
“Yep!” He took a happy bite.
“We might need help apartment hunting,” Kiyoomi said to Ms. Miya who looked delighted to have something to help with.
“Huh? Why don’cha just move into my apartment?” Atsumu asked.
“Because I fucking hate your landlord.” Normally he’d avoid cursing around his boyfriend’s mom, but Suna had already said fuck at the dinner table, and Kiyoomi was well acquainted with the Miya twins’ vocabulary, so he figured he was allowed (or at least granted a pass because his parents had literally disowned him the day before).
Atsumu snorted. “‘E’s not even yer landlord.”
“I am not living in the same building where you didn’t have hot water for a week because he couldn’t bother to get the water heater fixed.”
Atsumu rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement. He would’ve been more upset about that incident if he hadn’t had Kiyoomi’s apartment to escape to. He also had never told Kiyoomi about the teensy issue the building was having with roaches in the laundry room for a minute there.
Before they left, Motoya told Kiyoomi to call him if there were absolutely any updates from his siblings before he, Suna, and Osamu came back for lunch the next day. Kiyoomi agreed and then closed the door on him. His worrying was appreciated, but Kiyoomi was just exhausted.
When they returned to Atsumu’s childhood bedroom, showered and changed, Atsumu closed his eyes and puckered his lips.
“What are you doing?” Kiyoomi deadpanned.
“Waiting for my kisses,” Atsumu answered smugly, not even bothering to open his eyes.
Kiyoomi walked right past him, flicking his shoulder and getting into the bed.
“Hey!” Atsumu raged as he whipped around. Then he saw Kiyoomi lying on his back, holding his arms out, and making grabby hands, and couldn’t help but smile. He laid down right on top of him and kissed him slow and deep.
This was something they’d figured out worked well for them both when they were overwhelmed (unless it was when Kiyoomi got “absolutely nothing and nobody touch me” overwhelmed), lying on top of each other like a weighted blanket made of muscles and reassuring whispers. He pecked one last kiss onto Kiyoomi’s lips before flopping down to rest his head next to his, his nose poking into Kiyoomi’s cheek.
Kiyoomi twined their fingers together and, a moment later, turned his head away. Atsumu heard him sniffle and guided his face back over to press their foreheads together as quiet tears slid sideways down Kiyoomi’s face.
__________
At the end of the week, Atsumu’s mother sent them back to Osaka with four containers of leftovers and a batch of low-sugar cookies that wouldn’t mess with their dietary plans as the new season starts up. Atsumu’s face was all sunshine and rainbows as they entered the city.
“What are you smiling about?” Kiyoomi asked, glancing at his beaming boyfriend in the passenger seat.
“Isn’t it obvious? I get ta meet yer sister!” He didn’t say it, but Kiyoomi knew that meeting his siblings had become the equally exciting alternative to meeting his parents.
After an unsuccessful meeting with their parents, Kiyoomi’s older siblings had wanted to go see him, but he had forbidden them from crowding the Miyas even further. His brother had to return to his work in Hong Kong, but his sister had managed to get another couple days off of her job in America to help Kiyoomi with logistics.
“And my niece,” He reminded him.
Atsumu actually squealed and Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, not bothering to tamp down the smile on his lips.
Kiyoomi’s phone buzzed in his pocket.
“Atsu, can you check that?”
“Mmm hmm.” He retrieved Kiyoomi’s phone from his pocket, making sure to take the opportunity to feel up his boyfriend’s thigh in the process. “Akari-san says they’re going to get lunch before they meet us at your place.”
Kiyoomi nodded. “Tell her we're about 15 minutes out.”
Fifteen minutes quickly turned into 30 as traffic dragged due to construction. Kiyoomi was one more orange barrel cone away from banging his head against the steering wheel. But they eventually got to his apartment building.
When they came out of the elevator, there were two people down the hall in front of Kiyoomi’s door. The little girl saw them, yelled “Kiki!,” and barreled down the hallway until she was clinging to Kiyoomi’s legs.
Atsumu was thoroughly surprised when the same man he’d once heard call children “walking virus spreaders” bent over and picked the kid up.
“Kiki!” The toddler yelled again, “My new hand sanitizer smells like strawberries, look!” She shoved her little hands in front of his face and he obediently sniffed them.
“It does,” He agreed. The fact that this little girl was trained to use hand sanitizer was more of a clear indicator of her relation to Kiyoomi than her mop of dark curls and the mole on her cheek.
Finally overcoming his sheer shock, Atsumu focused in on something much more important. “Kiki?”
Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. “She couldn’t say my name when she was really little. And now she refuses to call me anything else,” He frowned at his niece who grinned brightly with her two missing teeth on display, “Mari, can you say ‘Uncle Kiyoomi?’”
“No!” She yelled and then burst out into a fit of giddy kid-laughter.
Kiyoomi shot Atsumu a look that seemed to say See what I have to work with? Atsumu hadn’t thought it was possible to fall in love with this man any more than he already had, but he was proven utterly and entirely wrong.
Mari narrowed her eyes at Atsumu in a way that was so familiarly Sakusa, cupped her hand over her mouth, and loudly whispered, “Who’s that?”
“This is Atsumu. He’s my boyfriend.”
With that explanation, her attitude did a 180 and her face lit up. “Uncle Atsumu!” Atsumu thought he might burst out crying and die of happiness right there in the hallway.
“He gets Uncle Atsumu and all I get is Kiki?” Kiyoomi griped, making his niece giggle some more.
During all this, the woman who was clearly Kiyoomi’s sister had made her way over to them.
“I didn’t realize we’d beat you here.”
“There was a lot of traffic,” Kiyoomi told her, his frustration clear.
She turned to Atsumu. “Hi, I’m Akari.” she stuck out her hand to shake.
“Atsumu,” He replied, a little starstruck by this tall, femme Sakusa.
She grinned and somehow managed to look even more like Kiyoomi. “I know.”
Atsumu picked up the bag Kiyoomi had put down in order to pick up his niece and held the door open for all the Sakusas to go inside.
“How are you doing, Kiyoomi?” His sister asked, her dark brown eyes softening in the exact same way Kiyoomi’s do when Atsumu is having an especially bad self-esteem day.
“About as good as you’d expect,” Kiyoomi answered matter-of-factly.
Mari was running around the apartment, opening all the drawers and looking at all the framed photos. Akari called her name with a warning in her voice and the little Sasuka ran over to her mom obediently.
Atsumu was a little stunned. He was finally meeting his boyfriend’s family. And his sister grinned at him like she was really happy to meet him instead of like he was the reason Kiyoomi’s parents weren’t speaking to him anymore (which he wouldn’t have blamed her for).
Atsumu and Kiyoomi got everyone something to drink and then Kiyoomi and Akari got down to business, laptops open and talking about finance stuff Atsumu understood about as well as he did when Hinata got a phone call from one of his friends in Brazil.
Mari tapped on Atsumu’s hand on his mug.
“Yeah?”
“Do you know English?” She asked.
“I do! But probably not as well as ya. Ya live in America, right?”
“Mmhmm,” She agreed, “We only speak English at school.”
“I bet yer really good at it then.” Atsumu loved talking to little kids, and Mari was so fucking cute. She was starting to get fidgety, her chocolate milk mostly empty, and Atsumu knew he was not necessary in the finance conversation, so he was thrilled to take on his new role of Mari Entertainer. “Wanna play a game?”
Her big brown eyes lit up and she nodded enthusiastically.
They ended up sitting on the carpet, rolling a volleyball back and forth between them while Mari talked about school and her friends and asked Atsumu questions, often switching between English and Japanese depending on what word she thought of first. Apparently, Mari and Akari watched almost all of MSBY’s games. She was thrilled to learn that Atsumu was the Atsumu Miya from her uncle’s team.
“When you and Kiki get married, can I be the flower girl?” She asked casually, fiddling with her shoelace before Atsumu rolled the ball back to her.
“Yeah. Yes. Absolutely,” Atsumu sputtered, mind suddenly filled with visions of Kiyoomi in a white suit with a ring on his finger.
“Yay! I went to a wedding once with Mommy and Daddy and they had a flower girl and she had a really pretty dress and Mommy said that even though her and Daddy didn’t have a flower girl at their wedding, that I couldn’t be it cause they already got married before I was born. But that part of the wedding was really boring but I think it’d be more fun if I was the flower girl especially ‘cause Mommy said I had to sit still and not play any games. Do you like Pokemon?”
Atsumu had to hold back his laughter at the swift change in subject. But he happily listened to her talk about how she’s sometimes allowed to play Pokemon Go on her dad’s phone until he started to get hungry.
“I didn’t mean to leave your boyfriend on babysitting duties,” Akari said as Mari followed Atsumu into the kitchen to help him make dinner.
“He’s having a great time,” Kiyoomi said, a soft smile on his face his sister didn’t think she’d ever seen from him before.
“I can’t believe my baby brother loves someone enough to want to introduce him to Mom and Dad,” She said, pulling on one of his curls like she did when he was a little kid with a head full of black ringlets that she dragged around like he was her favorite doll.
Kiyoomi swatted her hand away. “And look how well that worked out.”
“You know that’s not what I was talking about,” She scolded, “I just can’t believe how soft and mushy he makes you.” She made motions like she’d be pinching his cheeks if she didn’t know she’d lose a couple fingers if she actually did.
“Gross.”
She grinned to herself but went back to finishing up the plan for how to eventually get Kiyoomi’s inheritance back to him, even if it wasn’t until their parents died.
“Dinner is ready!” Mari announced to the apartment at large then got up into the chair next to her mom.
As Kiyoomi helped Atsumu bring the plates of curry to the table, he shot his boyfriend a meaningful look.
“It’s all up to Omi-omi standards,” He assured him, “We wore gloves ‘n masks. Though we did lick your rice.” He laughed at his own joke as Kiyoomi hid his middle finger from his niece with a plate.
“So Miya-kun,” Akari said with a sly smile as they ate.
“Hmm?” Atsumu perked up with his mouth full.
“I’m sure you have questions about what Kiyoomi was like as a kid.” She ignored Kiyoomi’s threatening glare, acting as if she could only see Atsumu’s enthusiastic nodding. “Well I know everything, so ask away.”
“I did not agree to this,” Kiyoomi griped, but he sighed and gave in when Atsumu turned on him with the big hazel puppy-dog eyes he’s so weak to.
“I dunno what t’ ask first!” Atsumu gushed, “I wanna know everything about little baby Omi-omi!”
All Kiyoomi could do was sit there and die inside as his sister told his boyfriend every embarrassing story from his childhood she could possibly remember.
“Are you done?” He demanded as Akari finished telling Atsumu about the time he had to dress like a cat (in full footie pajamas complete with ears on the hood and a tail) for the school festival in middle school. There were tears in Atsumu’s eyes from how hard he had been laughing.
“Almost,” His sister answered, both siblings well aware that “almost” most definitely does not mean yes, “I have a present for you.”
She grinned at Atsumu and he looked around as if looking for who she was talking to. “For me?”
She pulled a little photo album with a picture of a baby with one little black curl and two teeny moles of its forehead on the cover out of her bag and handed it over the table to Atsumu.
“How did you get that?” Kiyoomi snapped as Atsumu opened it and immediately started cooing over his baby pictures.
“From Mom and Dad’s house.”
“You just took it?”
“Yeah. It’s not like they go back and look at them all the time. I took mine too. You should’ve seen the dust I had to wipe off of them.”
“I am going to look through this every day for the rest of my life,” Atsumu said, quickly interrupting himself to squeal at a picture of tiny Kiyoomi in his elementary school volleyball club uniform, frowning at the camera.
“Kiki’s all red,” Mari giggled.
“Shut up,” Kiyoomi muttered, trying to will himself to stop blushing.
“Did you just tell a child to shut up?” Atsumu said, smirking.
“Yes, I did. And I’ll do it again.”
Mari stuck her tongue out at him and he stuck his out back at her. Thankfully he had a distraction prepared for before Akari remembered any other stories about him. He told his niece, “I have a present for you.”
“Really?!”
“Yes. Obviously.” He went over to the bag that he’d shoved full of stuff from his childhood bedroom before leaving his parents house for the last time and pulled out his old stuffed rabbit. It was still in excellent condition besides a little lumpiness to the stuffing from years of cuddling. “This is Akachan,” He said, handing the blue rabbit to his wide-eyed little niece.
She hugged the plushie and jumped up and down on her chair. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Stop that or you’ll fall and break your head open,” He told her, his deadpan delivery not quite hiding the small smile on his lips.
“That was one of Kiki’s favorite stuffed animals as a kid,” Akari told her daughter, “So you’d better take good care of them.”
“I will!”
“I would die fer them,” Atsumu said, beaming, after Kiyoomi’s sister and niece left for their hotel, “I did promise Mari-chan that she could be the flower girl at our wedding.” He looked at his boyfriend, secretly hoping the mention of their future wedding would get him all flustered again, but he just shrugged.
“Well that’s a given.”
So, instead, Kiyoomi got to look extremely pleased as Atsumu turned approximately the exact shade of a tomato.
“Shut up!” Atsumu grumped.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Ya said it with yer dumb face!”
Kiyoomi’s smug grin only grew. “I thought you liked my face?”
“‘Course I like yer dumb face! Dumb stupid pretty face!” Atsumu raged.
“Heh,” Kiyoomi laughed.
Somehow even though they’d spent the last week literally sharing a twin sized bed, Atsumu still managed to find enough to talk about through the entire process of doing the dishes together. Being alone in Kiyoomi’s apartment, just doing chores and chatting (which is mostly Atsumu talking with Kiyoomi inserting his judgements here and there), felt so normal and comfortable. Don’t get him wrong, Atsumu loved spending time with his family, but this is what home had been for him for the last couple years.
Once the dishes were done and most of the bags they brought in were unpacked, Atsumu took Kiyoomi’s hand and tilted his head to get a better look at him.
“What’s up?”
Kiyoomi frowned like he didn’t know what Atsumu was talking about.
“Yer makin’ the face ya make when ya want ta say somethin’ but aren’t sayin’ it. What is it?”
Kiyoomi glanced down at their hands. “Stay over here tonight? I know you haven’t been in your apartment in a while, but—”
“That’s it?” Atsumu chuckled, “‘Course, baby. ‘S not like half my stuff isn’t already here anyway.”
Kiyoomi rolled his eyes again but let Atsumu kiss him on the forehead. Then he turned away and pulled Atsumu behind him. “Time for a shower then.”
Atsumu raised his eyebrows and grinned wickedly before practically skipping into the bathroom, their fingers still intertwined. He certainly hadn’t forgotten about the other added bonus of not sharing space with his brother and mother.
__________
The first practice of the start of the season, Kiyoomi could feel Atsumu watching him during warm ups. And not in the usual, mildly thirsty, way he usually watched him.
Not that Kiyoomi didn’t appreciate his boyfriend’s concern, but he was over needing to be babied, and Atsumu had been good about that the last couple days. But they both knew he was minutes away from being treated like he was made of glass by the whole team.
“Before we start,” Coach Foster announced, signaling it was time and making Kiyoomi grimace, “Sakusa would like to tell the team about a development in his life.”
“Is Omi-kun transferring?!” Bokuto wailed.
“‘Course not!” Atsumu shot back, thumping Bokuto on the chest.
Kiyoomi stood next to the MSBY coach, expression completely flat. “I am no longer speaking to my parents,” He said matter-of-factly, “Because they disapprove of my lifestyle.”
“Volleyball?!” Hinata asked, absolutely aghast.
“Well, yes. But mostly the gay part.”
The whole team seemed to deflate in a combination of pity and outrage.
Before anyone could say anything, Kiyoomi continued, “The only reason I bother interrupting practice for this is because my performance might be affected in the short term or if there are developments in the situation. Otherwise, I’m perfectly fine.” Everyone was still looking at him a bit like he was a kicked puppy and Hinata and Bokuto were clearly having an agonizingly hard time keeping themselves from tackling him in a teary group hug. He sighed. “You each get at most a three second hug. After you wash your hands.”
Only Hinata and Bokuto used the whole three second hug allowance. Inuaki said the only reason he didn’t take the opportunity to torture Kiyoomi with a hug was because of the extenuating circumstances. The more rational and respectful members of the team just clapped him on the back and told him to let them know if he needed anything.
“Mostly painless?” Atsumu asked with a smile once the whole affair was over with.
“Mostly,” Kiyoomi allowed.
Atsumu was unsurprised that Kiyoomi was still playing at the top of his game despite the fact that he was not at his best mentally because, more than almost anything, Kiyoomi loved volleyball. It was the one thing that quieted his mysophobia enough to not be bothered by being surrounded by sweaty people all touching the same ball. Atsumu was sure he’d continue to kill it throughout the season… unless something pressed on that still fresh bruise.
Despite what he’d like everyone to believe, Sakusa Kiyoomi was an emotional person. Sure, he usually expressed his emotions as only disgust or anger, but Atsumu had gotten very familiar with his soft center. It was entirely possible that, if the news of Kiyoomi’s parents disowning him got out before he was good and ready, he could have an interaction with a well-meaning fan before a game that would have him spiking recklessly and getting distracted on the court. And getting benched for playing like shit because he felt like shit would only make him feel worse.
Was the request that interviewers avoid asking about their families really enough? They get asked unvetted questions by fans all the time. It’s not like Kiyoomi had ever had a problem telling a fan “That’s none of your business,” but the question alone would probably throw him at least for this first season since it happened.
Atsumu chewed on the inside of his cheek and nearly missed Hinata claiming the ball Meian had just served. He had actually started to dive for the ball himself, but then scrambled out of the way once he realized Hinata had it. He tried to shift his focus back to the 3 on 3 rally as he set for Adriah, but his brain just would not. How was he supposed to protect Kiyoomi from being even more hurt by his parents when they were in the public eye like this?
Kiyoomi had clocked Atsumu’s mental spiral even before he’d narrowly avoided colliding with Hinata. At the end of that rally, he made eye contact with Foster who nodded; he’d noticed it too. Still, he let them play their set until Kiyoomi’s team won with 10 points to Atsumu, Hinata, and Tomas’s 6. Then he blew his whistle and told them to partner up for receiving practice.
Kiyoomi, who’d already been heading straight for Atsumu, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over to where their gym bags were piled near the bench. He handed Atsumu his water bottle and immediately started rooting around in the pocket of his bag. He unwrapped a sour candy and popped it in Atsumu’s mouth.
Atsumu just let all of it happen, leaning into his boyfriend when he positioned himself at Atsumu’s back with one arm around his waist and the other hand rubbing up and down his arm. He hadn’t even consciously realized yet that he was having a bit of an anxiety attack until Kiyoomi had given him the candy (which they’d found was one of the best ways to quickly ground him a little).
He took deep, slow breaths—in as Kiyoomi’s hand slid up his arm, hold it for a few seconds, then out as his hand slid down—and counted things he could see, feel, hear, smell, and taste. It wasn’t too long before he felt back inside of his body instead of deep inside of his head.
“Thanks, Omi-omi,” He said, gently removing himself from his boyfriend’s grasp.
Kiyoomi didn’t acknowledge the thanks he’d repeatedly insisted was ridiculous and unnecessary, just scanned him with his cool, brown eyes and seemed to decide he was in fact okay because he said, “Receive drills.”
“Yep!” Atsumu agreed brightly.
And everything was going great—they’d won their first three games of the season, starting with a win against the Adlers and beating the Green Rockets in straight sets on a day they had no business of being that on fire—until a round of press the following week.
At their third stop of the day, Kiyoomi was clearly getting tired of interviews (to his teammates; to the untrained eye he looks as impassive and mildly threatening as ever). Even Atsumu, who loved an opportunity to talk about himself and look good in front of a camera, was about ready to go home.
“Sakusa-san,” The interviewer for some magazine none of them had ever read began, “We were requested not to ask about your family. Why is that?”
Time seemed to stop for a moment as everybody sat in a stunned silence. Everybody on the team and their manager opened their mouths to say something (Atsumu had begun to roll up his sleeves and get out of the director’s style chair), but, before anyone else could do anything, Kiyoomi responded, “No reason, really. Have you ever considered hair regeneration treatment?” His face and voice were casual.
“What?” The interviewer asked, now just as stunned as everyone else had been.
“At what age did your father go bald?” Kiyoomi asked as innocently as if he was asking the time.
“Pfft!” Atsumu was the first to burst out laughing. The rest of the team was quick to join him, even if Meian tried to hide his laughter behind his hand.
Their manager ended the interview there, making it clear that the interviewer’s boss would be getting a strongly worded email.
“Bahaha!” Atsumu cracked up again as they left the studio. He slung his arm around Kiyoomi’s shoulder. He could tell, even though he had put his mask back on, that his mouth was turned up into a pleased smile. “That was so evil!” Atsumu cackled, “I love ya so much!”
“Yeah that was fucking gold,” Inuaki chimed in, “They better include it in the final cut.”
“That was the last one for today, right?” Kiyoomi asked.
“Yep,” Their manager confirmed.
In the back of the van packed with their teammates on the way back to the gym, Atsumu squeezed Kiyoomi’s hand and raised an eyebrow at him. Kiyoomi nodded and squeezed his hand back. Atsumu was excited to embarrass his boyfriend when they got home by telling him how proud of him he was for being leaps and bounds more okay than he would’ve been if some asshole had asked him that question a couple weeks ago.
__________
“And if you’re not related to either of us, you’d better be out of here by 10,” Kiyoomi said to all of the guests at the housewarming party for his and Atsumu’s new apartment.
Suna opened his mouth to speak and Kiyoomi waved his hand at him dismissively.
“Yes, I suppose you count,” He allowed.
“And even if ya are related t’ us, ya better be gone by midnight,” Atsumu added.
“Why?” Osamu countered.
“‘Cause we gotta test how thick the walls really are ‘n this place,” He said with a wink. Kiyoomi facepalmed while Suna pretended to gag and Hinata high fived Atsumu.
Even Kiyoomi wouldn’t deny that the party was fun, despite one close call where Bokuto just managed to catch his can before it spilled on the carpet. They managed to pretty tightly fill the nicely sized one-bedroom apartment (that Atsumu’s mother had toured with them a few months ago) with their loved ones, teammates and opponents alike. Even Ushijima and Kageyama came down from Tokyo (Atsumu had unsubtly recommended that they bring pastries from Kiyoomi’s favorite bakery in the city).
Then, of course, they got to sit around with Osamu, Suna, and Komori and gossip.
After everybody left (and they’d seemingly confirmed that the walls were as thick as the landlord promised, so long as their neighbors weren’t just waiting until the next day to pay them an embarrassing visit), Atsumu snuggled into Kiyoomi’s side, pulling up the blankets of the bed of the apartment that they lived in together.
Kiyoomi petted his hair and kissed his nose. “Love you,” He muttered, closing his eyes.
“Love ya, my Omi,” Atsumu said, pressing a kiss to his chest.