Work Text:
"Omi..."
A t-shirt.
"Omi-kun..."
A belt.
"O—"
A pair of pants.
"Omi, wait."
Kiyoomi's hands freeze, fingers ready to pull Atsumu's boxers down.
"I... Uh. I get the whole pretending in front of yer parents, but... Ain't we alone, right now?"
It's not the first time Atsumu questions things they do when they're alone this weekend. But until then, it's been fine.
Holding hands as they walk back toward the Sakusas' family house, far behind everyone else. Kiyoomi asking if he wants to watch a movie bundled up under the same plaid blanket last night… Albeit alone in Kiyoomi's childhood bedroom. Kiyoomi wiping off some onigiri filling from the corner of Atsumu's mouth with his thumb, and then sucking on it… While they're the only two people left to have breakfast in the kitchen. The kiss they shared on the lake shore — when Kiyoomi complained he always disliked the cold around this area at this time of year — and Atsumu naturally moved to wrap him in his own jacket. The long gaze they exchanged before that.
It just... happened.
And while they've held hands in front of Kiyoomi's family as pretense, they would never kiss, even if they were really dating. But now, they've done it, and without any witness, at that. They found each other nose to nose. The tips of them red from the cold, a stark representation of the warmth between them, like their hot mingling breath.
It happened.
It happened and they were both stunned into silence, rushing back toward the parking area past the trees to join the family again. Motoya gave them a weird, suspicious look. Kiyoomi rushed to sit in one of the cars, making sure Motoya would sit between them on the way back. He wasn’t so eager to pretend to be all lovey dovey with Atsumu, this time. So, naturally, Atsumu has been wondering about all these moments, as the three-day holiday passed, and now... Now, he can't keep the questions to himself anymore.
It's their last night before heading back to Osaka. The last night before they go back to their life. Last night before they leave, then meet again the next day on a volleyball court and have to act as what they've been until before this staycation. Colleagues and rivals, turned friends over the years.
From fake dating Kiyoomi, Atsumu feels like he's going to fake-befriend him again. If he’s honest, the idea sounds fucking awful. There's a reason why Atsumu found himself nodding so fast when Kiyoomi asked him to pretend to be his boyfriend in an embarrassed mumbling mess, two weeks prior. Colleagues and rivals turned friends might be true, but no one said friends don't sometimes catch feelings. Atsumu knew it would be a bad idea. He's been pining for Kiyoomi for a year at least. From what he's willing to admit, that is. It's more than enough to know it could only be torture to act like Kiyoomi's boyfriend for three full days. Atsumu didn't expect he'd have to play the full act, though. Act he never initiated, for his own sanity.
Kiyoomi kept coming onto him, at times when they should absolutely not have been too close, so as to keep Atsumu sane. That’s why Atsumu really thought he had messed up somewhere around the lake. A fleeting moment of weakness that could ruin it all.
It was especially hard and glaring over dinner, where Kiyoomi was quite distant. Then everybody decided to go outside to crack fireworks and… Atsumu found himself missing half of the improvised show out of the blue.
They’re both missing half of the show.
Kiyoomi snapped suddenly. Atsumu was laughing like a madman with Motoya when a cold hand slipped inside his own. The next second, Atsumu was biting on his tongue, laughter cut short as Kiyoomi pulled him further from the properties, away from everyone else.
That’s how they ended up in this dark tool shed. A fancy one, it's big, and lots of items are stored there for the swimming pool maintenance, waiting for the Summer to come back. It's currently freezing like Dante’s hell. Yet Kiyoomi keeps stripping Atsumu from his clothes. But most of all, he keeps kissing Atsumu.
A full body slam against the wooden door is what he got the moment they stepped in. Like in the dramas Atsumu used to watch with his Ma. His stomach is still doing weird things from when Kiyoomi pressed him there and stole his breath away with another kiss.
They're twenty-eight. Two grown men. There were onions in tonight's dinner. Atsumu's dick might shrivel from the cold. They're not in a shoujo. And yet, Atsumu feels all dizzy, like a damsel ready to be ravished, heart fluttering. It's the reason why he didn't stop this immediately. Although it's precisely the kind of things that could hurt in the morning.
Or that could hurt for a lifetime. Atsumu doesn't know how long it takes to come back from a heartbreak, but in dramas, he's seen some people die from it. Wither and perish from unrequired lo—
"I'm sorry, I don't fucking know what I'm doing," is the answer Kiyoomi gives Atsumu when they stop kissing.
Then he tries to resume said kiss, but the bubble bursts and Atsumu's mind is clear enough — the stupid cold helping, sobering him mercilessly — to push him back, pressing a hand against Kiyoomi's naked chest.
In the relative darkness, Atsumu can still make out Kiyoomi's confused stare. And that hint of something that would look like desperation if Atsumu wasn't the one desperate enough to imagine things.
"Well then let's not do somethin' fuckin' stupid," Atsumu says as he bends over to grab the first article of clothing within reach.
His sweater. Nice. That's nice.
What's less nice is the bite behind his words, but he couldn't help and snapped a bit. The situation got out of control and Atsumu is not ready to wither and perish. Osamu would fucking kill him. Atsumu is barely done putting the sweater back on — legs still naked — that Kiyoomi does another stupid shoujo move.
The hand that slams near Atsumu's face prevents him from moving away to get to his pants next. A fucking kabedon, now? Really?
"Kiyoomi," Atsumu says, trying to control his voice.
The attempt is a vast joke with his heart leaping and thrumming into his throat.
"Don't go, Atsumu, please."
"I..."
Atsumu is at a loss.
"Look, I'm sorry if yer confused, but we're not doin' that kind of shit if—"
"Please, Atsumu, I..."
"If ya don't fuckin' know what's going on. Yer lost, fine, but I'm not. So I'm not doing this shit to cry my eyes out next week when ya go back to makin' disgusted faces when I offer to share my bottle of water, okay?"
Holy shit.
Isn't the person kabedon-ed supposed to be too flustered to speak?
Because Atsumu just spilled way too much, and the one who's undeniably flustered is Kiyoomi. Atsumu has rarely seen him blush like this. Enough for it to be noticeable in the dark.
"Wait, wait, wait, Omi, wait—"
The word spills again and again as Atsumu feels panic rise way too fast. But on the sixth ‘wait’, Kiyoomi's other hand flies near his face, caging Atsumu in between them.
"I'm not waiting another second, I hope you're kidding. I know what I'm doing, I just... I didn't know why I was doing that with someone who keeps calling me an uptight asshole every other monday to piss me off. I know fucking well what I'm doing Miya!"
"I don't call you an uptight asshole!"
"I don't make disgusted faces!"
Both Atsumu and Kiyoomi shut their mouths, inhaling a bit sharply.
"Well. Yer an asshole."
"And you piss me off, but..."
"But..."
Atsumu's body is taut as a bow string.
"But I want this. I want you, Atsumu. I didn't how to tell you that, so..."
Atsumu's eyes go wide. He's forgotten he was cold until now, but with how little he's moving, it's coming back to him, biting his ankles and making him shiver all over. Some absurd idea is blooming in his brain. Something he wouldn’t dare believe otherwise, but so far, they’ve walked every step of the script Atsumu never thought he’d ever experience.
"Didja… Didja make up the need to come with a boyfriend to—"
"No!" Kiyoomi sounds frantic. "Of course not! It's real, it wasn't an excuse. But.. I meant… after we kissed at the lake."
"Oh god.” Atsumu heaves a long sigh, warmth rushing to his cheeks from embarrassment. “I really fucking thought this was..."
"Don't compare this to one of these lame ass dramas.."
"Oi! They're not lame!"
There's a short pause after Atsumu cuts Kiyoomi off with passionate outrage. Then Kiyoomi suddenly snorts and starts laughing at him. He's laughing at Atsumu, literally in his face, right after insulting his awesome dramas. Fuck this guy.
Fuck this impossibly hot guy who just confessed to potentially have feelings from him not knowing Atsumu has been pining for him for eons.
Fuck him.
Atsumu grabs him by the jaw, crushing their lips together as he flips them over. See if Kiyoomi likes to be slammed against cold hard things too. It's not necessarily the move Atsumu think it is, though. If it turns on Kiyoomi, it surely does Atsumu too.
Whatever. They both want this. They do, right?
"Mmh—Atsumu, wait..."
"What happened to not waiting another second?" Atsumu groans against his mouth, fingers working on Kiyoomi's belt.
"Fucking funny. But that wasn't a conversation, was it?"
"No. Do we need one?"
"Well, I don't want to cry next week either."
Atsumu feels his chest fill with warmth. They are on the same page. It’s almost too good to be true.
"Guess it answers that. How about we kiss now and also next week because we both want it, instead of makin' each other cry?"
And Kiyoomi can probably see it because he's the one who pulls Atsumu in.
It all becomes a frenzy after that. Atsumu doesn't know how they find themselves on a dusty sunbed, humping each other like animals, but they are. The plastic is cold and hard under his ass and it's probably merciless for Kiyoomi's knees — who's bent over him, ravishing him while his hands work on getting them both out of their boxers.
Atsumu kept his sweater, and Kiyoomi keeps being wrecked by shivers so Atsumu holds him close, hands roaming over his back, along his thighs that flank Atsumu's waist. He'll keep Kiyoomi warm, while Kiyoomi makes them burn. His hand gets on Atsumu’s dick and although his skin is cool Atsumu finds himself moaning.
The temperature increases when Kiyoomi fists Atsumu's cock with his own, jerking them both together. The bit of pre-come doesn't ease the move as much as it could if they'd come prepared, but Atsumu couldn't care less. They're too pent up to give a shit about it.
He fucks into Kiyoomi's fist, holding him down and pressed against his body while they breathe into each other's mouths. And really, when they come with a shared grunt, Atsumu can't imagine them making each other cry. Not when Kiyoomi kisses his cheekbone, then his forehead and slumps on top of Atsumu, drained from the last of his strength. Atsumu knows for a fact his sweater is covered with cum but he's fine with it.
In the dark, as he hugs Kiyoomi and they catch their breaths... he smiles.
"Ya sure that wasn't a whole big plan, years in the makin'?"
"Will you cry if I insult your dramas and the damage they did to your brain again?"
Atsumu chuckles, squeezing Kiyoomi tighter.
"Fuck ya, Kiyoomi."
It’s Kiyoomi turn to laugh, hidden in the crook of Atsumu's neck.
"I know I told my parents we've been dating for months but... You still need to take me on a proper date if you want to get past third base."
"Pardon? You are goin' to take me on a date after giving me all that trouble, asshole. And a nice one. We're goin' to the movies before dinner. And I'm pickin' the film."
"Ugh, fuck me," Kiyoomi sighs.
Atsumu’s mouth hurts from how wide his grin is, by now. They might freeze if they stay here, but he can’t fucking let go. No, Kiyoomi doesn’t know what he just signed up for. Atsumu kisses his temple, inhaling the shampoo they’ve been sharing. Oh, sure, Kiyoomi can lament all he wants… Atsumu is never letting go.
"After the romcom and nice dinner, Omi."