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It starts with Hinata Natsu, of all people.
Well, if Atsumu’s being honest with himself, it started way before that, but he’s not, so that’s besides the point. And thankfully, he’s just petty enough to blame all of his problems on a thirteen year old girl.
The arena is clearing out after a match that they won, leaving the whole team soaring. They’ve all showered and cleaned up, leaving the lockers room in ones and twos, to go to the main area to greet fans, and friends, and family.
Atsumu stares at the floor, counting the scuff marks that interrupt the gleam of the wood, waiting for his eyes to adjust. The lights in the lobby area are more subdued compared to the glaring lights of the main playing area. The team is huddled around a case full of decades old trophies and plaques of achievement, taking selfies and high fiving little kids when Natsu comes running over.
“Nii-chan,” she yells, tackling Hinata in a hug around the midsection. “Congrats on winning.”
Hinata laughs brightly and picks her up. “Thanks, Natsu.”
From her vantage point up in the air, she smiles wide and waves at the whole team.
“Hey, Natsu-chan,” Bokuto bellows, sweeping her out of Hinata’s arms and into his own. She’s upright in his grip, grin even wider than before.
“Hi, Bo-san, congratulations on winning.” She pats his hair and laughs when Bokuto puffs out his chest and beams at her praise.
“Atsu-san, you did great today,” she says, turning the Hinata family megawatt smile his way.
“Thanks, kid,” he says, reaching out for a high five. Atsumu doesn’t normally like children, but Natsu is cool. Especially when she texts them all embarrassing photos of Shoyou or brings them snacks when she comes to visit.
“Natsu, what’s something you learned from watching Atsumu-san today?” Hinata inquires.
That’s right, Atsumu recalls. Natsu plays setter and Shoyo insists on turning every game she watches into a learning experience.
Before she can launch into an explanation of anything Atsumu did on the court today, Sakusa shuffles out of the locker room in soft looking grey sweatpants and a white waffle knit shirt, the kind that clings in all the right places and makes the planes of his chest look great. He has his thumbs shoved into the holes in the sleeves, the cuffs of the shirt hiding half his hands. His hair, still a little damp, falls into his face.
The effect is a Sakusa that looks so soft it makes Atsumu want to wheeze.
He’s so whipped he can’t even clown Sakusa for the black Crocs he’s wearing, after Bokuto put half the team onto them. Even though Atsumu thinks they’re comfortable, he’ll never be caught dead committing a fashion faux pas as grave as that, despite the girls on Instagram claiming they’re back in style.
“Sakusa-san,” Natsu exclaims from her perch in Bokuto’s arms.
He looks up, startled, then relaxes when he sees who it is.
He pads over to them and greets her when he’s in hearing range. His black face mask is pulled down to his chin. “Hi, Natsu-chan, how are you?”
She taps Bokuto on the shoulder and he lets her down. “I have something for you, Sakusa-san.”
They all react in various degrees of surprise.
“For me?”
Natsu nods, ruffling through her mini-backpack (Atsumu once again owes the girls on Instagram for his knowledge of this technical term), and pulls out a gauze drawstring bag.
“This is for you,” she says, holding it out to Sakusa.
To his credit, he only considers it for a moment before he takes it from her. “Thank you, Natsu-chan.”
“Open it,” she says.
Sakusa opens the bag and pulls what, from Atsumu’s angle, looks like a piece of cardboard out of the bag.
“Your bangs are always in your face when you play,” she explains. “Mine are too, so I use these to pull them back.”
She points at her head.
And ah, that makes more sense, because there, in Sakusa’s hand is a packet of hair clips. The shapes are silly: a pair of cherries, a smiling sun, a rainbow, fluffy clouds. Real cutesy type shit that Atsumu would never associate with Sakusa.
To begin with, Atsumu can’t believe that Sakusa even took the hair clips from Natsu without wiping them down first. But that, he supposes, is the power of the Hinata family.
“Oh, thank you,” Sakusa says, the edges of his lips tugging upwards.
“No problem,” Natsu beams, clapping her hands together. “I hope they help!”
“Why don’t you wear one now, Omi-san?” Hinata asks and it’s a joke, really, but the way Natsu’s eyes light up at the suggestion makes it very, very serious.
“I can’t see what I’m doing though,” Sakusa says, small smile now a small frown.
Natsu makes grabby hands for the package. “Here, lemme help.”
Sakusa hands it back to her and she stares at it like the future of the MSBY’s season depends on this decision. Then, she picks out the smiling sun and the rainbow and beckons Sakusa down to her height.
He hesitates for a moment, eyeing her hands warily.
“Oh!” She opens the smallest pocket on her backpack and pulls out a travel-size bottle of hand sanitizer. “It smells like watermelon,” she informs Sakusa as she uses it to clean her hands and the hairclips.
“Better?”
Sakusa nods and now he’s smiling in earnest as he bends down for her to reach his head.
Atsumu has never seen this much positive emotion from Sakusa at once and it’s starting to worry him. Maybe someone swapped their prickly cactus of an outside hitter for a gentle flower while no one was looking.
Atsumu resists the urge to shake his head at the thought.
Natsu grabs Sakusa’s bangs and twirls them around a finger. It’s a level of physical intimacy that Atsumu has never seen Sakusa grant anyone before sober and Atsumu would rather hit his head against a wall than be jealous of a thirteen year old, but here he is, not hitting his head against a wall and jealous of a thirteen year old.
Atsumu watches with rapt attention as she pins the bangs with one clip, and then the other, so that they make a little x. She grabs a star clip, sanitizes that as well, and pins back more of the hair by Sakusa’s ear.
“There,” she says, stepping back and appraising her work. “You look so cute, Sakusa-san.”
Something Atsumu never expects in a million years happens: Sakusa blushes. His cheeks warm with a delicate shade of pink that sits so nice against his late summer sun-kissed skin. He laughs, a small, awkward thing, and scratches the back of his neck.
“Thank you, Natsu-chan,” Sakuksa manages.
She beams at him. “Let’s take a selfie, Sakusa-san.”
And something about watching Sakusa Kiyoomi, blush high on his cheeks, stooping down to Natsu’s height, throwing up a peace sign and a shy smile, both their heads tilted to show off their matching hair clips, that makes Atsumu want to eat his own fist.
~
When they get back to their shared apartment later that evening, it’s to the sounds of Hinata and Bokuto cooing at Sakusa.
“Omi-omi, why didn’t you tell us you were this cute?” Bokuto whines.
“Yeah, I can’t believe you were holding out on us,” Hinata says with a big pout.
Sakusa heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Keep it up and I’ll tell both of your boyfriends on you.”
“Go ahead,” Bokuto bellows, setting his bag by the entrance floor. A sharp look from Sakusa has him picking it right back up. “Akaashi would just agree with me.”
Hinata sets his sneakers on their shoe rack. “Yeah, Kageyama would too. He’ll never admit it, but he loves cute things. He only buys milk with the cute characters on it, even though he always complains about how it never tastes as good.”
“Sho-chan, what did we say about Tobio-tangents?” Atsumu chides from the kitchen sink where he’s refilling his water bottle.
“Sorry,” Hinata says and his whole being seems to droop as he pulls some change out of his pocket and drops it in the Simp Jar.
The Simp Jar, established after Bokuto and Hinata refused to shut the fuck up about their stupid perfect setter boyfriends. And though the god of their apartment was a strange god, it was also a fair god. So Sakusa had to put in money every time he brought up Ushijima Wakatoshi and Atsumu had to put in money every third time he complained about Osamu.
(Every third time, because every time would have made him the most frequent contributor to the jar and emptied out his pockets in a week.)
Atsumu drinks his water and stares at Sakusa. The clips are cute. The clips, with Sakusa’s stupid grey sweats and his thumb hole shirt are even cuter. The clips, with Sakusa’s stupid grey sweats and thumb hole shirt and his forehead out and about, just begging for Atsumu to press a kiss against it, are the cutest.
Knowing that Sakusa would probably rip his lips off and throw them at Bokuto for simply leaving the toothpaste uncapped, much less wanting to kiss him, has Atsumu sighing and pulling money out of his wallet, and stuffing it into the Simp Jar.
They all stare at him.
“What?” He asks, defensive.
“What’s that for?” Sakusa asks, eyebrow raised, claiming its spot on Sakusa’s newly revealed forehead.
Atsumu’s not about to be caught dead admitting that one so he says, “I was bitching Osamu out in my head.”
They all seem content with this answer and go back to whatever they were doing.
Atsumu shuffles to his room, closes the door behind him, and flops onto his bed (not) like the main character of a coming of age rom-com.
Definitely not like that.
~
At first, it’s only an at practice thing.
No one is expecting it, but Sakusa really takes to the clips, much to everyone else’s joy and Atsumu’s pain and suffering.
The first one to hop on the boat is Sakusa’s cousin, Komori, who sees the clips in all their glory when he comes by after practice one day to pick Sakusa up.
After his Big Hug From Bokuto, Komori explains that they’re going out for dinner.
“We’re getting Pho, does anyone wanna join us?” Komori asks.
A glare from Sakusa lets them all know that they should answer to the negative.
Once they do, Komori bids them all goodbye with an easy grin that is so the opposite of Sakusa it baffles Atsumu that they share any DNA in common.
Hinata laughs when Atsumu tells him this.
Atsumu watches (not longingly) as Komori loops an arm through Sakusa’s and leads him out of the lobby of the training facility. It’s so easy, so thoughtless. It makes Atsumu seethe that Komori seems to think nothing of the type of physical contact with Sakusa that Atsumu would punch Osamu to have. Not that Atsumu wouldn’t punch Osamu just because, but having an excuse always makes it a little spicier.
The next day, Sakusa shows up with new hair clips.
Bokuto is the first to notice.
He bounds over Sakusa, volleyball tucked under his arm, and leans in so close Sakusa visibly recoils.
“Ooh, what are they this time?” Bokuto asks.
“Frogs,” Sakusa says, reaching up a hand to tuck his hair behind his ear self-consciously, but stilling when he realizes that it’s all pinned back.
“They’re so cute, Omi-Omi,” Bokuto coos. “You know last time, I sent Natsu’s selfie to Akaashi and he agreed that you looked so cute. Can I send him a picture this time too?”
Sakusa blushes but gives a quick nod. Bokuto grins wide and snaps a few pictures, complimenting Sakusa all the while.
Atsumu’s phone buzzes in his pocket. When he checks it, it’s to see that Bokuto has dropped the pictures into the MSBY group chat. He zooms in and, sure enough, there are little clips with smiling frogs faces, tongues poking out, pulling Sakusa’s hair out of the way.
“Komori bought them for me yesterday,” Sakusa explains.
And this new Sakusa that fidgets under compliments and blushes when he’s called cute is a Sakusa that Atsumu wants to burn into his eyelids, so he can see him every time he closes his eyes. He’d go around sleepwalking, if that were the case.
~
Bokubro : [image attachment]
Short Daddy Shion : Sakusaaaaaaaaa
You look so cute
I would go to war for you
I’d kill a man with my bare hands for you
Omi-omi : you really wouldn’t.
Bokubro : DOn’T test us omi-omi
I could crush a man with my thighs and i WOULD do it for you in hair clips
Omi-omi: wtf am i like a fair maiden now or something
??????
Shoyooo: yes yes exactly you are a fair maiden and we will all be ur knights in shining armor
Omi-omi: i will literally burn this gym down
Short Daddy Shion: the ghost of my love for you would haunt your soul FOREVER
Omi-omi: that’s so disgusting pls never lump your love for anything with me ever again
Bokubro: WAIT
Atsumu: ?????
Shoyooo: omg atsu-san u’ve been lurking this whole time ???????
Adriah Tomas the Tank Engine: literally WHAT is the point of putting an apostrophe in you’ve if your just gonna spell it wrong anyways
Omi-omi: ……
no one tell him
Adriah Tomas the Tank Engine: …..
god fucking dammit
YOU’RE*****
Atsumu: HAH
Bokubro: guys WAIT
Atsumu: I already said “????” Bokkun
Bokubro: I had….a thought
Short Daddy Shion: oh no did u hurt urself
do u need first aid now
Bokubro: i’ll literally spike you next shion
Short Daddy Shion: you used literally wrong
Bokubro: no u don’t understand
i will LITERALLY spike you next
you’re short enough
Short Daddy Shion: HEY
fuck u
Omi-omi: if you say anything about Akaashi rn Bokuto, you WILL have to put money in the Simp Jar
Bokubro: ……
i wasn’t……
:T
ANYWAYS
here is my thought
more of a question really
would you be open to us buying you more hair clips Omi-omi
Omi-omi: …..
I…..
wouldn’t be opposed
Bokubro: omg yaaaaay
sparkle sparkle sparkle
Atsumu: did you seriously just type out “sparkle sparkle sparkle”
Bokubro: yeah bro my emoji keyboard is busted
Adriah Tomas the Tank Engine: bokuto….
they’re the same keyboard
Bokubro: this sign can’t stop me because i can’t read!
From somewhere in the gym, they hear Meian facepalm.
~
It becomes a team thing when Bokuto shows up to practice with a packet of hair clips the next day.
“Here, Omi-omi,” he says, handing Sakusa a package wrapped in light green tissue paper. “Don’t worry, we sanitized the package before we wrapped it!”
“We?” Sakusa asks, taking the package out of Bokuto’s hand.
“Yup!” Bokuto beams. “Akaashi helped me pick them out!”
Sakusa works off the tape and pulls out the package.
“Look, they’re owls!”
Sakusa stares at the clips for a moment before a soft smile pulls at his lips. It shows off the little not-quite-a-dimple on the right side of his mouth.
Atsumu hates himself for noticing this and mentally reserves a few more bucks for the Simp Jar.
Sakusa pulls the cherries he has in his hair out and twists his hair around his slender finger, securing a few owls in place.
“Can I send a picture to Akaashi?”
Sakusa nods and lets Bokuto snap away. It is here that Bokuto solidifies his status as their resident Sakusa hair clip photographer.
“Thank you, Bokuto, and thank Akaashi-san for me.”
“You got it, Omi-omi.”
Atsumu reserves his whole paycheck for the Simp Jar after he looks at the new pictures Bokuto sends to the group chat.
Over the course of the next few weeks, everyone contributes to Sakusa’s hair clip collection.
Hinata brings Sakusa a citrus themed back of clips.
Sakusa takes out a sanitary wipe and accepts the pack from Hinata.
“Thank you, Shoyo. Pick some out.”
Hinata beams and takes a long moment to mull over his options.
Sakusa surprises everyone when he bends his head down to Hinata’s height.
Oliver gasps. Atsumu resists the urge to eat his shoe. Hinata actually jumps for joy and pins the clips into Sakusa’s hair.
The bright orange and lemon slices Hinata ultimately decides on stand out against Sakusa’s ink black hair.
Bokuto dutifully jogs over and takes more pictures for the chat.
Shion brings Sakusa a pack of Sanrio hair clips and almost cries when Sakusa lets him, actually lets him , put a Pochacco clip in his hair.
Granted, Sakusa watched Shion wash his hands three times before he let Shion touch him, but no one was paying attention to the minor details.
Meian brings Sakusa a pack with volleyballs on them, and it’s honestly a wonder that it’s taken so long for someone to finally buy some.
Adriah buys him a pack of multi-colored stars.
Oliver brings Sakusa a pack of BT21 clips, because according to him, the world of Sakusa Kiyoomi and the world of BTS needed to collide already. While Sakusa pins them to his hair, Oliver rants about how he thinks that a) Sakusa would love their music and b) Sakusa would be a Yoongi stan and would he like supporting evidence, because a PowerPoint can be provided.
All that’s left is Atsumu. He knows it wouldn’t be weird to show up and fling a pack at Sakusa, but he feels like if he does that, everyone will somehow be able to see through his secret.
Sakusa makes him feel transparent.
Every day, he watches someone new put that smile on Sakusa’s face, and Atsumu envies them the ease with which they exist around Sakusa.
~
Atsumu’s crush on Sakusa crept up on him. A real sneaky thing.
At first, he thought it was just “healthy competition.” He wanted to be the one to get a service ace before Sakusa did. To cook the better dinners. To win at Smash Bros the most times.
It quietly warped into him wanting to be the one to make Sakusa smile the most, laugh the hardest. And on the rare occasions when Sakusa would drink with them and force someone to hold his hand, aversions blissfully forgotten, Atsumu wanted to be the only one to hold it.
When he realized what was happening, he’d called Osamu in a panic.
Rather than offer any brotherly support, the bastard had laughed at him, long and loud, and hung up.
Which was the signal Atsumu needed to let him know he was well and truly in too deep.
~
One evening, when they’re all out for dinner, Shion changes the name of the chat to “Sakusa Hair Clip Agenda Rise” and sets the selfie of Natsu and Sakusa as the group photo.
“To remind us of who our true prophetess is,” He explains, making Hinata laugh.
Because Atsumu’s luck is pure garbage (or solid gold) he’s seated across from Sakusa. Which means he’s got front row seats to Sakusa in a stupid navy shirt with the three buttons at the neck. And because Atsumu’s luck is pure rotting garbage, Sakusa has the first two undone, exposing skin Atsumu wants nothing more than to press his lips against.
At this point, he thinks he could buy the whole team a five course meal with the money he owes to the Simp Jar.
“What’s wrong with you?” Sakusa asks, flinging his straw wrapper at Atsumu.
“Hey!” He bunches it up and throws it back at him. “What’re ya talkin’ about? Nothin’s wrong with me.”
“You’ve been pouting all day.”
“Have not!” he protests, which is a dead giveaway that he has, in fact, been pouting all day.
“Oh, yeah, Atsu-san, you have seemed kind of down recently,” Hinata chimes in.
“I don’t know what yer all talkin’ about. I’ve been fine?” But he says it like a question.
“No, I definitely caught you listening to Since You Been Gone two days ago,” Bokuto says, chopsticks raised to his mouth.
“Bokkun, shut up ,” Atsumu screeches. He fishes an ice cube out of his glass and reaches across the table to shove it down Bokuto’s shirt.
Bokuto screams and flails around, trying to get it out. “Fuck, Atsu, come on . Why would you do that?”
Atsumu points his chopsticks at Bokuto. “ Why would you out me like that? ”
Between Bokuto’s screaming, Shion and Hinata’s ugly cackling, and Atsumu’s screeching, the whole restaurant is staring at them.
“Look,” Bokuto says, “All I’m saying is, the last time I listened to Kelly Clarkson is when I was in high school and had a crush on Akaashi and thought he didn’t like me and…”
Bokuto trails off. His eyes widen and his jaw drops.
“No,” Atsumu begs.
“You,” Bokuto says in a hushed voice.
“No,” Atsumu says again, louder and more urgent.
“You,” Bokuto raises his chopsticks to point at Atsumu.
“Bokkun, no, please .”
“You have a crush on someone,” Bokuto says slowly.
The whole table goes silent. And something Atsumu never expects to happen in a million years happens: he blushes. His whole body feels too hot and when he steals a glance at himself in the window, he’s pink from the tips of his ears to his neck.
“Oh my god, you do ,” Hinata goes right back to screeching.
Oliver bursts into laughter. “So, who is it?” he chides, elbowing Atsumu’s side.
Before Atsumu can deny anything, Sakusa slams his glass against the table.
“That’s why you’ve been putting so much money in the Simp Jar.”
Atsumu feels the world slip beneath his feet. “Omi-omi,” he whispers, turning his most pitiful pout on Sakusa. “How could you betray me, and in my own house.”
“Actually, we’re at-”
“Hinata, it was a joke,” Meian says, cutting him off.
Sakusa turns to Atsumu, giving him his undivided attention. Under any other set of circumstances, Atsumu would be over the moon, but right now, he just sinks so far down the booth that his chin is level with the table.
Sakusa levels him with a vicious grin. Atsumu wants to choke out the butterflies in his stomach. “So, Miya ,” he spits his name out. “Who is the unfortunate sack of flesh to have caught your affections.”
Atsumu wonders what would happen if he said “you.” Would Sakusa’s face contort in disgust? Would he stab him with his chopsticks? Spill his drink in Atsumu’s face? Spit on him? (Atsumu files this one away for exploration later, because he kind of hates that he kind of doesn’t hate the thought.)
Atsumu really doesn’t want to find out, so he mutters “No one you know,” and sinks even further down the bench.
“Bullshit, Miya, you have the smallest social circle out of any of us.”
Atsumu clutches his chest. “Holy shit, Omi-omi, that one actually hurt.”
“Good,” Sakusa says. “Now tell us who it is.”
“Fuck no,” Atsumu says, pushing himself back up to sitting height. “Why the fuck would I do that?”
“Maybe we can help you get with them,” Shoyo suggests.
Bokuto slaps his hand against the table. “Yeah, that’s a great idea. We’ll call it Operation Get Atsumu Hitched!”
“What the fuck, Bokkun, it’s a crush not a fucking marriage pact.”
“But it could be both!” Shion says.
“It could not ,” Atsumu says hotly. Having a crush on Sakusa is bad enough. Thinking of his stupid crush that he hates himself for every second of every day in the context of marriage makes him want to bang his head against the window next to him.
“Guys, let up on him,” Meain pleads. “Let’s just eat and go.”
“No,” Sakusa sneers. “I really would love to know.”
“Why?” Atsumu bellows. “Why do you care about my love life.”
“Lack thereof,” Sakusa corrects. “And because, I would love to know who I owe the pleasure to when we all get dinner on your dime.”
“Okay, first of all, fuck you,” Atsumu flings a balled up napkin at Sakusa, which he dodges. “Second, we will not be eating anything on my dime. Y’all literally put money in just as often as I do.”
Sakusa crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t.”
“Yeah ya do,” Atsumu yells, throwing his hands up. “Every time we watch an Adlers game, you rant about Ushikawa for like two days straight.”
“He’s an amazing player,” Sakusa says, like that’s supposed to defend anything.
“That’s money for the Simp Jar right there!” Atsumu cries. “Why are we worried about my hypothetical crush, when what we should really be focusing on is your crush on Ushiwaka.”
“Guys, everyone is staring at us,” Meian tries.
Sakusa’s face turns scandalized and he stands up from his seat. “I do not.”
Atsumu gets up as well, facing him down. “Clearly ya do and yer tryna deflect from whatever ya got goin’ on by throwin’ me under the bus.”
Before Sakusa can reply, Meian slams his hand on the table, finally getting their attention. “You two have two seconds to sit down and keep eating or we’re all leaving.”
Atsumu gives a smug grin and lowers himself into his seat, happy to have the last word. Sakusa glowers at him for a few moments before finally turning his attention away to ask the waiter for a new pair of chopsticks.
The staring contest continues until they return to their apartment that evening. And this time Atsumu does slam the door in their faces like a dramatic teen movie. Because having a crush on Sakusa Kiyoomi is one thing. But having Sakusa Kiyoomi tease him for his crush on Sakusa Kiyoomi is a low Atsumu is not willing to sink to.
~
It becomes a thing thing when Sakusa forgets to take the clips out before a match.
Even though they win their game. Even though Atsumu scores his fifth service ace of the season. Even though he and Hinata had rolled a new quick, the news outlets could focus on one thing and one thing only: Sakusa Kiyoomi’s New ‘Do.
And Shion does not let them forget it, either.
He spams them with article after article about Sakusa in his heart shaped hair clips. Bokuto jumps on the train, and soon, their group chat is blowing up with what is easily the worst news Atsumu has ever gotten in his life.
It is simply not fair.
It’s not fair that Sakusa looks like a k-pop boyband, anime prince, but has the temperament of a feral chihuahua. And it’s not fair that despite that, Atsumu still really fucking likes him. Even when he snaps and insults Atsumu, even when he doesn’t apologize after, Atsumu still finds himself enjoying their fights, every little thing they’ve bickered about near and dear to his heart.
Atsumu has become such a sap and he knows Sakusa would laugh mercilessly at him if he knew what his internal monologue sounded like.
Soon after news of Sakusa’s clips takes the world by storm, fans start flooding their P.O box with more hair accessories.
So much so that one Saturday morning, when they’re all gathered around their breakfast table, Sakusa poses a question.
“Do any of you know a women’s or children’s shelter that could use all of these hairclips?”
Bokuto almost goes weepy. “Hot and thoughtful,” he sighs, wiping a fake tear away.
Sakusa groans and turns away from Bokuto to look at Hinata and Atsumu. “Well, any ideas?”
“I don’t know any personally,” Hinata starts, pulling his phone out. “But I’m sure it’s easy enough to find some.”
“Yer probably gonna be gettin’ clips for a while, huh Omi-omi,” Atsumu says, stirring his smoothie with his metal straw.
“Probably,” Sakusa huffs. “It’s nice when it’s like, friends and stuff, but I have no idea what to do with so many of them.”
“I have an idea,” Atsumu perks up.
“No,” Sakusa replies.
“Oh come on, Omi-omi, ya haven’t even heard it yet.”
“And yet, I know it’s gonna be trash.”
“Okay, well I’m gonna talk anyways,” he says, pushing his smoothie glass around. “How bout you set up a link on your Twitter with some charities you like and ask fans to donate there instead of sending you stuff.”
The whole table is stunned into silence.
“That’s a really good idea, Atsu-san,” Hinata says around a mouthful of his omelette.
“Gross, Shoyo,” Bokuto groans. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
Atsumu wants to rip into Bokuto for that one, but he can’t, because even though Bokuto is a fucking mess , he is not dirty, and it’s infuriating.
“Okay, well that’s Miya’s one good idea for the year. Let’s find some charities, I guess,” Sakusa says.
“Come on, Omi-omi,” Atsumu groans. “I have plenty of good ideas a year.”
“Name one,” Sakusa challenges.
Atsumu fumbles, brain suddenly empty. Bokuto and Hinata laugh at him, while Sakusa just gives him another one of those vicious smiles.
He huffs and pulls out his phone and searches angrily , thank you very much , “children’s charities near me.”
They all eventually follow his lead and send links to each other, and when they’ve finally narrowed down their list, they send them to Meian and coach for approval.
They settle on a youth shelter that explicitly states on their website that they take in and take care of trans youth and that one actually does get Bokuto teary-eyed. Atsumu might or might not have shed a tear, but he’d never tell.
Later that night, when they all settle in their respective spots in the living room for their weekly Smash Bros showdown, Sakusa surprises everyone by plopping himself down on the couch, next to Atsumu.
Atsumu tries not to get too excited, but his heart kicks into overdrive when Sakusa tucks his legs under himself, a sign that he’s settling into this seat for the night.
He pulls out his phone and shows it to Atsumu. “Look.”
Atsumu peers at the screen and lights up when he sees what it is. It’s Sakusa’s new pinned tweet, with a link to the charity and a thank you for all the gifts. It’s been blowing up, pulling more numbers than any of their tweets combined.
“This is so great, Omi-omi.”
Sakusa offers him a tiny smile and tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear. Atsumu clutches at his GameCube remote to stop himself from reaching out.
~
Before a practice match with the Adlers, Tobio shows up in the MSBY locker room.
“Hey, Tobio-kun” Atsumu greets. “Here to stare at my hitter’s ass?”
“Wh-what no, dumbass,” Kageyama mutters, shooting Atsumu a dirty look that loses all of its heat behind Kageyama’s blush.
“Then what can I do for ya?”
“I’m actually here for Sakusa-san,” Kageyama says, looking past Atsumu’s shoulder.
“Oh?” Atsumu asks, but before he can get anywhere with his line of questioning, Hinata comes bounding over.
“Kageyama,” he cries, throwing himself at his boyfriend. Kageyama hardly ever puts out in public, so Hinata only gets a quick peck for his troubles.
“Where’s Sakusa-san?” he asks, wrapping an arm around Hinata’s shoulders.
“Wait, watch this,” Atsumu says, sharing a wicked grin with Hinata. Then, before anyone knows what’s coming, Atsumu bellows, “Ew Bokuto, don’t use Sakusa’s phone to take pictures of your asshole.”
“What?” Sakusa screeches, running out of the shower with his towel barely wrapped around his waist. Atsumu never understood why the weirdo took a pre-game shower.
“What the fuck,” Bokuto cries, running out of one the dressing rooms with only his shorts and his kneepads on.
Sakusa turns on Bokuto. “Where the fuck is my phone?”
“I don’t have it,” Bokuto yells, throwing his hands up defensively.
“Liar,” Sakusa hisses.
“I’m not lying, why the fuck would I have your phone I-”
And that’s when they notice Atsumu, Kageyama, and Hinata, all bent over and laughing. Kageyama is on the floor, pounding on the wall he’s sitting against. Hinata and Atsumu are clutching at each other, Atsumu wiping tears out of his eyes.
“You,” Sakusa says, stalking up to Atsumu. Sakusa grips him by the collar and Atsumu’s eyes widen, but he can’t stop laughing.
Sakuksa begins shaking him violently. “Why would you even begin to think it is remotely acceptable to joke about something like that.”
Atsumu just laughs harder and harder.
“Who the fuck raised you, the troll under the bridge?”
“H-Hey,” Atsumu gasps around his laughter. “Don’t talk about Mama Miya like that.”
At that, Bokuto loses it, bursting into a fit of laughter and leaning against the lockers for support.
“You’re so fucking nasty,” Sakusa says, punctuating each word with another shake.
“Come on, Omi-omi, if you wanted to choke me, all you had to do was say so,” Atsumu manages to get out before he explodes in another fit of laughter.
Sakusa drops him and jumps away like he’s been burned. He turns to the benches with all their stuff and begins picking up anything he can find, throwing them all at Atsumu.
“Why are you like this? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
A rolled up shirt hits Atsumu in the face. “You’re so sexy when you’re angry, Omi-omi,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. The fact that he’s only half-joking is something that no one else needs to know.
The sound of laughter follows Sakusa as he stomps back to the showers.
When he trudges out minutes later, they’ve all mostly calmed down. Sakusa’s scowl sets Hinata off on another fit of giggles, but an elbow to the side from Kageyama quiets him down.
“You’re all heathens,” Sakusa says, shoving his towel into his locker.
“Yes,” Hinata agrees sweetly, “But this heathen,” here he points at Kageyama, “has something for you.”
Sakusa raises an eyebrow and Atsumu would sell Osamu’s soul to press two little kisses, in quick succession, to the moles above it.
“Yeah,” Kageyama starts, then ruffles through his bag until he pulls out a little plastic bag. “This is for you,” he says, passing the bag to Sakusa.
Sakusa takes it and peers inside and his face does a funny little thing. He takes a packet of hair clips out of the bag and snorts when he sees what they are. Cute little milk cartons with faces, exactly like the ones Kageyama likes to drink.
“Hinata told me you might like these, sorry if you don’t.” Kageyama is staring at his shoes so hard he could burn a hole through them.
Sakusa stares at him a moment longer. “They’re really cute, thank you.”
Kageyama perks up, a shy little smile tugging at his lips.
“Which ones are your favorite?” Sakusa asks.
“Oh!” Kageyama gasps, and points to a pink one and blue one. Sakusa pulls them off the cardboard, wipes them down, and pins them to his hair.
Kageyama’s smile spreads wide enough that Hinata starts teasing him about how creepy it looks.
Bokuto dutifully runs over to snap pictures, earlier brawl with Sakusa forgotten.
Atsumu decides that something needs to change when he sees the next round of pictures. Because seeing Sakusa with shower flushed cheeks, damp hair, eyelashes brushing against his cheekbones makes Atsumu’s heart do a somersault out of his chest and into his throat.
~
Atsumu: I need your advice
Ugly Miya: what do u want
Atsumu: I wanna tell Sakusa I like him
Ugly Miya: how did i know it was gonna be some dumb ass shit like this
Atsumu: bro coME On. i listened to u bitch and moan about suna
Ugly Miya: i literally never talked to u about him
Atsumu: that’s such a fuckin lie i literally have reciepts
Ugly Miya: NEXT
Atsumu: omg can u pls just listen to me
Ugly Miya: ok fine, what r u thinking
Atsumu: well, at this point, everyone on the team has gotten him hair clips but me
so i’m thinkin of gettin him some and tellin him how i feel
Ugly Miya: that sounds like a plan bc if he professes his hatred for u or some shit, u have a fall back
Atsumu: thanks for the vote of confidence nothing could make me feel better
anyways, can u wingman me at the next game night
Ugly Miya: sure
Atsumu: thanks bro
Ugly Miya: thank u for shopping at onigiri miya, we always aim to please
Atsumu: go fuck urself
Ugly Miya: unlike S O M E O N E ,, i have a boyfriend to do that for me
Atsumu screams and throws his phone at the wall.
“Put money in the Simp Jar,” Sakusa screams through the door.
“Fuck you,” Atsumu screams back.
~
Osamu and Rin show up to the next game night with bags of onigiri that everyone but Sakusa gleefully jump on.
Asumu has an onigiri halfway to his mouth before he spots Sakusa sitting there and remembers. He leaps from his seat and bounds over to the kitchen.
When he comes back, he hands Sakusa a wrapped plate.
“What is this?” Sakusa asks, eyeing it like it might start moving any moment now.
“I made you onigiri with an onigiri mold,” Atsumu says, grinning down at Sakusa triumphantly. “And I wore gloves and used a spatula, so nothing touched the food.”
Sakusa is stunned for a moment.
“You...made me food.”
Atsumu nods. “Yeah, Samu likes to make onigiri with his hands, and even though he wears gloves, I figured you wouldn’t be into that, so I made you some.”
“But...how? When?” Sakusa struggles to make sense of the plate in his hands. “I never saw you cooking.”
Atsummu shrugs. “You were probably out.”
Sakusa looks at the plate like it’s something precious, then he turns that same look onto Atsumu. And for just a moment, Atsumu forgets about everyone else in the room, about the hammering of his own heart every time he looks at Sakusa, about everything that could burn in flames if he tells Sakusa how he feels. If there is even a chance of Sakusa looking at him like that again, Atsumu will leap on it.
The click-click-clicking of everything falling neatly into place is disrupted when Osamu chucks something at Sakusa.
“Those are for you. Tag Onigiri Miya when you wear them.”
Sakusa laughs, actually laughs at the pack of onigiri hair clips on the couch cushion next to him.
Atsumu counts to ten, but still ends up lunging at Osamu.
~
Everything reaches a head the day of their long-awaited match against the Adlers. They win, because of course they do. And Atsumu scores the winning point, because of course he does , and they’re all cheering and hugging each other.
Atsumu has already decided he’s not going to ruin the high of today for either of them with his confession, and rather, save it for tomorrow. That way, they’re both still on a high, neither of them will have the day ruined for them, and Atsumu still has a good thing to cheer him up if everything ends up blowing up in his face (not that he thinks it will, but it’s always good to have a backup plan. Just in case).
That is, until he spots Ushijima Wakatoshi making his way over to Sakusa. He’s saying something that Atsumu is too far away to hear, but it’s already making him angry.
His instincts are right, because a few moments later, Ushiwaka pulls something out and offers it to Sakusa. Sakusa gasps, catches himself, and then nods.
Then, to Atsumu’s absolute horror, Ushiwaka pulls something off what he handed to Sakusa and moves his hands towards his hair.
It comes together in Atsumu’s mind in slow-motion. Ushiwaka wrapping a tendril of Sakusa’s hair around his finger, pushing a clip into place, Sakusa blushing so red he starts to rival Hinata’s hair.
The revenant way Sakusa looks up at Ushijima lets Atsumu know that Sakusa’s sixteen year old self has died and gone to heaven and that maybe that high school crush wasn’t so high school after all.
Atsumu grabs his ball and leaves the gym in a huff. When he gets home later, Bokuto has sent the pictures to the chat. He hates, hates, hates that he can feel tears welling in his eyes when he sees the pearl clips that Ushiwaka pinned to Sakusa’s hair.
How dare Ushiwaka stroll into his gym looking like straight-up boyfriend material on legs and give Sakusa such a thoughtful and beautiful gift.
He is truly devastated by how beautiful they are. Each clip has a pearl on the end of it, and they gleam against Sakusa’s dark hair. The clips Atsumu had purchased don’t even come close to how pretty these are.
And the look on Sakusa’s face. That was easily the worst part. Sakusa had never, even in their best moments, even when he had done everything right, looked at him like that.
There was nothing Atsumu hated more than feeling second best to someone.
So that night, he crawled into bed, blasted Kelly Clarkson in his earbuds, and ignored everyone who tried to text him to come out and celebrate.
~
When he finally leaves his room, it’s well past midnight. Atsumu only got up because his stomach was going to eat itself if he didn’t put something in it.
Thankfully, he still had left-overs from the last time Osamu came to visit.
When he walks out to the kitchen, he’s surprised to find Sakusa sitting in the living room with the lights dimmed, legs draped over the back of the couch, head hanging off the cushions.
“Omi-omi, whatcha doin’ here? Shouldn’t you be out celebrating?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Sakusa replies easily.
“I didn’t feel like going out tonight,” Atsumu says with a shrug, and then begins rifling through the fridge.
“What are you making?” Sakusa asks, rolling off the couch and landing on his knees. He takes a seat at the barstools they have at the island and watches Atsumu with curious eyes.
“Heating up some leftovers,” Atsumu replies, but fishes out a pair of gloves from a drawer and slips them on.
Sakusa rests his chins on his stacked hands and watches Atsumu work. With deft fingers, he cracks an egg and beats it till it’s frothy. He heats up a skillet and adds in the rice, some of the assorted fillings, and finally, the egg. He stirs it around a few times and serves it in two plates.
He places one of the plates in front of Sakusa and watches the steam curl up to his lips.
Atsumu hands him a spoon and watches him dig in. He doesn’t take a bite of his own food until Sakusa sighs contentedly and goes for the next bite.
They eat in silence for a few minutes until Sakusa breaks the silence. “So, what’s the real reason you didn’t go out today?”
Atsumu huffs and stares at his food, wiggling a slice of spring onion around with his spoon.
“Why didn’t you go out?” He asks petulantly, watching the onion flop over.
“I did. I came home early. It was too quiet without you there.”
Atsumu inhales sharply and looks up to find Sakusa watching him expectantly. It’s following the motion of Sakusa’s finger tuck a strand of hair around his ear, Ushiwaka’s hair clips abandoned, that finally gives Atsumu the courage to speak.
“Wait here,” he says.
He rushes to his room and quickly finds what he’s looking for.
When he comes back, he pushes his plate next to Sakusa’s and sits down at the stool beside him.
Sakusa quirks an eyebrow, the one with the moles over it, and Atsumu’s control snaps. He reaches a hand out slowly, slow enough that Sakusa could pull away if he wanted to, and smooths his thumb across Sakusa’s eyebrow.
He just sits there, but when Atsumu pulls his hand away, there is a faint blush visible from the dim light of the lamp.
“Ushiwaka,” Atsumu starts and Sakusa jumps.
“What about him?”
Atsumu sighs. “The clips he gave you today.”
“You didn’t like them?” Sakusa asks, tipping his head to look at Atsumu.
Why would Sakusa care what he thought? “No, I did. That’s the problem.”
Sakusa’s face screws up. “How is that a problem?”
“Ya looked really cute, Omi-omi,” and that gentle admission cuts off anything Sakusa was going to respond with. “They looked so pretty in your hair.”
“Miya, what are you trying to say right now?” Sakusa hedges, twisting the hem of his shirt between his fingers.
Atsumu shoots him a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t laugh at me Omi-omi, but I really, really like you.”
Sakusa looks like he’s just been dropped on a foreign planet. “You, you...what?”
“I really like you. And I was jealous that Ushiwaka gave you a really nice gift today and that you seemed to like it so much.”
“You were jealous because of me ?” Sakusa sounds incredulous.
Atsumu groans and buries his face in his hands. “Please don’t make fun of me, Omi-omi.”
A finger tapping his forehead has him looking back up. “Ushijima is dating Tendou,” Sakusa says.
It takes Atsumu a minute to figure out what that means.
“So he wasn’t...you don’t...you guys aren’t…” Atsumu trails off, not quite sure where this question starts or ends.
Sakusa shakes his head, dislodging the curl again.
Atsumu fishes the packet of clips he bought for Sakusa out of his pocket. They have little fox faces on them and smile brightly back at him.
“I bought these for you,” Atsumu says. “Can I…?” He asks, gesturing at Sakusa’s hair.
Sakusa nods and the curl bobs with the motion.
“Do you want me to wash my hands first?”
Sakusa shakes his head, and the curl follows. At this point, Atsumu’s convinced he’s just doing it to show off.
He picks out a yellow fox and carefully wraps Sakusa’s hair around his finger. It’s silkier than he could have ever imagined, so far from the texture of his own bleached hair.
Leaning forward, he pulls the curl into position and secures the clip. When he leans back, Sakusa follows into his personal space.
“How does it look?”
Atsumu looks at him, and has to look away for a moment before he can face him again. The fox matches Sakusa’s yellow pull-over, and they both look more gold than anything in the warm light. Sakusa’s skin glows, his eyes twinkle, and Atsumu feels his throat go dry.
“Beautiful,” he rasps.
Sakusa preens under the praise.
“Can I put one in your hair?”
“You want to put one in mine?” Atsumu asks, like he’s misheard something.
Instead of answering, Sakusa takes the pack from Atsumu and lets their hands touch in as many places as he can reach.
His heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s trying to beat out of his chest and into Sakusa’s. He never realized the feeling of another person’s palm against his could feel like such a punch in the gut.
Sakusa’s hands are a welcome cool against his cheeks as he cups Atsumu’s face and it takes Atsumu far too long to realize that this isn’t how you clip hair at all.
His mind is just barely catching up when Sakusa leans forward and places a soft kiss to Atsumu’s lips. He moves to pull back, but Atsumu chases after him, slotting their lips together more firmly.
Atsumu’s hands move up Sakusa’s body, one settling on his shoulder, the other carding through the hair at Sakusa’s neck.
Sakusa sighs against his lips and lets one hand trail down Atsumu’s cheek to his jaw to settle at the curve of his neck. A shiver runs down Atsumu’s spine and he pushes himself even closer to Sakusa.
With one last parting kiss, Sakusa pulls away. Atsumu grins at him a little helplessly, and Sakusa kisses the smile wider. Then he picks out a little fox and snaps it into Atsumu’s bangs.
Sakusa admires his handy work. “Very cute,” he announces.
Atsumu feels like he could cry. He honest to god feels the tears begin to gather, but shakes them away.
“So, you like me back?”
Sakusa gives him that same vicious smile. “Yes, but don’t think that changes anything. You’re still a heathen.”
“But now I’m your heathen,” and his voice sounds so gushy to his own ears that he pulls some change out of his pocket and tosses it into the Simp Jar.
“That’s our first date money,” Atsumu says and Sakusa snorts a laugh.
~
That night, after they’ve both brushed their teeth and done their skincare routines, Atsumu follows Sakusa into his bed. He runs his fingers through Sakusa’s hair unburdened, the little fox clip abandoned on the nightstand.
“I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time,” Atsumu whispers, face so close to Sakusa’s that his minty breath puffs between them.
“What, touch my hair?”
“That, but also this,” Atsumu says, then presses two kisses in quick succession to Sakusa’s moles.