Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Miya Atsumu had never planned to become a chef. That was always Osamu’s thing, cooking meals that just tasted like home, making enough ramen to feed a family of 12, tossing fried rice in a wok without a single ingredient falling out. By 20, Osamu had opened a successful origini store in their hometown with dozens of regulars. By 20, Atsumu was a broke college student that occasionally managed to cook instant ramen without burning the noodles.

So when his best friend, Hinata, had dragged him along to a local cooking competition, Atsumu could never imagine that he would win first place. Perhaps his twin telepathy had possessed him, or his mind was so set on the 10000 Yen prize that he suddenly gained the ability to saute vegetables. That night, he called his brother to brag about his winnings, only for Osamu to hang up halfway through.

Whether it was divine intervention or pure luck, Atsumu had managed to squeeze his way onto a new cooking show that would be filmed in Tokyo, Kitchen Aces, run by a former Michelin Star restaurant owner, Samson Foster. The main producer of the show, Kuroo Tetsuro, who looked like he was running solely off caffeine and fast food with a permanent bed head that looked like a rooster’s crown, was responsible for virtually all creative decisions in the show, from the lighting to the editing to the program. It wasn’t like he was forced to do all these roles by himself either, he had a whole team of staff who were more than competent to do everything, but the man was a perfectionist.

The show was run so that each cook on the show had their own type of cooking that identified them. Each cook had an assigned partner, mostly chosen based on what writers thought would make an entertaining performance. Atsumu was chosen to cook homey, family meals that anyone could make, which was perfect for him since he couldn’t cook anything else.

Hinata, who had joined the show with him, cooked all types of healthy food for body builders. It would be funny to watch this scrawny looking 5”4 kid talk about the best ways to gain muscles if you hadn’t seen him lift an entire fridge without breaking a sweat. His partner was Bokuto, a tall gym-bro with badly done frosted tips that spiked up in all directions (Osamu said that Atsumu couldn’t speak with his own hair being a “gross” yellow-blonde. Atsumu called him an old man and hung up). He knew how to barbeque almost everything, from meat to seafood to random things he’d find at the back of his pantry.

Last of the new cooks was Sakusa Kiyoomi. Where do you begin with explaining him? He specialised in expensive, fancy Western desserts that Atsumu had never even heard of. Everything he did had to be perfect, the way he mixed batter or placed a single gold flake on top of a chocolate eclair was meticulous and flawless. He was one of the only chefs in the entire show that had actually gone to culinary school, most of them had been found randomly like Atsumu. He would look at all the other cooks like they were pests, and a week before the show started filming, he had refused to come to the introduction party.

He was also Atsumu’s partner.

The writers seemed to have just put them together because they thought it was funny, putting polar opposites with each other. At least the other pairing made sense, Hinata and Bokuto both focused on healthy food for people that worked out, not to mention their personalities actually matched well. But Atsumu and Sakusa? Absolutely nothing.

Atsumu could remember the first time they filmed together so clearly despite it being almost 5 years ago. He had walked onto set, happily bouncing and blissfully unaware of the devil he'd be stuck working with that went under the name Sakusa Kiyoomi. When he had tried to introduce himself, all he got in response was “I know who you are, it was in the email. Don't tell me you didn't read it.” in the most annoyed tone known to mankind. When Atsumu had extended his hand to be polite like his mother had always told him to, he got a dirty look that said “Get away from me”. So he did.

At least during filming, Sakusa would act as a half-decent person with basic manners. In the first episode, Atsumu made a basic rice and beef dish from a recipe his brother had taught him when he had first joined the show. Sakusa had made a chocolate lava cake to pair with it, which Atsumu would soon learn is one of his simpler dishes.

(Atsumu also remembered that Sakusa had visibly gagged when he said “Just eyeball the amount of soy sauce you put in, you've only put too much if you can't see the rest of the ingredients”.)

Sakusa was not as charismatic as Atsumu when he was in front of a camera, in both his and the internet’s opinion, but he had his own charm with his short and direct sentences and dedication to his craft. If he wasn’t the absolute most infuriating person he knew, Atsumu might actually call him attractive, or even hot, but he’d never say that out loud (except to Osamu). The fans thought so too, and after the first few episodes aired the internet begged to see more of the two, much to Atsumu's dismay.

In interviews, Atsumu had graciously and poetically described Sakusa’s food as “way too fancy for most people, he thinks that he's special because he knows the difference between a macaron and a macaroon” while Sakusa, who had decided to be a little pain in the ass, described Atsumu's cooking as “barely worth being on TV, it's so simple I could do it in my sleep”.

Atsumu didn’t actually hate him though. As his mother always said, it takes too many emotions to hate someone, and it’s not fun for anyone, both the hater and the hated. Atsumu respected Sakusa’s cooking (barely), and enjoyed eating whatever he cooked on set.
On days when he was particularly annoying, however, Atsumu would go on an anonymous account online and make up a rumour about Omi actually faking his curly hair and moles. Nothing harmful, but it did get his anger out.

After years of working together, the two of them had started to develop an odd sort of rhythm that barely worked. The two would rock up to set (Atsumu learned the hard way not to say Hi to Sakusa before 9am), Kuroo would tell them what the theme of the week is and the ingredients that were available, and all the other logistics. The two would only talk to each other while filming, often falling into small banter which the audience loved. After the two of them tried the other’s food and inevitably criticised it, whether through outright insults or a backhanded compliment, they finally waved goodbye to the camera.

The second the cameras stopped rolling, Sakusa would leave without saying a single word. You’d think that co-hosting a nationally beloved show with someone would grant you a “good job” or at least a “bye”, but apparently not.

Today was like any other, Atsumu had just finished plating his perfected version of chicken katsu, topped with a smooth curry sauce and lots of vegetables for all the parents watching. Sakusa had, of course, created a ridiculously complex lemon meringue pie to pair, made with 3 different kinds of lemon and a handmade whipped cream mixed with lavender. As always, it tasted amazing, but he'd never admit that to anyone.

As per usual, the second the cameras stopped filming, Sakusa walked off set, grabbed his things that sat on a nearby chair and walked out without so much as a word to anyone in the room. A couple of cameramen tried to wave him goodbye, but he was out the door before they could lift an arm. No one was surprised, of course, the man had never cared for common courtesy when the camera’s weren’t rolling.

Scratch that actually, he was still an asshole when filming, but at least he would talk to others.

“Ya’d think he hated being ‘ere,” Atsumu mumbled under his breath, “couldn't even thank the staff.”

A familiar, deep voice spoke from behind him, “Well, we both know he isn't the most social person,but he does cook some delicious dessert.”

Atsumu turned to look at the older man, “Hey Foster, how’re you doin’?”

Foster held a slice of Sakusa’s meringue pie in one hand, happily eating it as he spoke, “Nothing much, just checking in on you two. Well, I suppose just you for now, I’ll have to call Sakusa later tonight.”

Atsumu chuckled. Foster was a great manager, he never overworked or underpaid any of his staff, but he also never dropped by to “just check in” on his staff unless they were knee-deep in some controversy. Like when Bokuto had first started dating some reporter a couple years back, a black haired boy whose identity was never revealed, though the paparazzi did manage to get a photo of his back once. Or when rumours went around saying Kuroo was receiving funding before the show started in return for “favours” from a popular pro-gamer and CEO of a small business who went by the alias Kodzuken. Atsumu knew this was all a lie, Kuroo wore a promise ring and was dating someone named Kenma, though he had never actually met them.

Atsumu never publicly participated in any celebrity drama nor was he ever the face of a rumour, but he did love to read it.

“Come on, what d’ya really come ‘ere for?” He laughed.

Foster sighed, “You know me too well. Did you know that we're about to reach our 5th year of running? Crazy, right?”

Atsumu had heard a lot of people talking about it, after all, Kuroo always tried to do something big for these milestones. At the 1st year anniversary, all the main hosts of the show had tried to cook something way outside their comfort zone. Atsumu had attempted to cook a beef wellington, which failed miserably. On the 2nd, all the main hosts of the show had done a charity event where they cooked 200 boxes of food and distributed it to local homeless shelters. The 3rd year consisted of what was basically a game show that barely involved cooking, much to the anger and despair of fans.

On the 4th year, the producers had brought in a few well-known food influencers to get more publicity, namely a pair called “Bread and Tofu” made up of Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime, who had become popular due to their constant flirting and jokes during their cooking videos. Oikawa, who was known for his charismatic and lighthearted personality, and Iwazumi, who was far more serious yet easily flustered made for a couple that the internet just adored. No one knew if they were actually dating or not, and whenever they were asked Oikawa would just respond with “wouldn’t you like to know” while Iwaizumi just laughed.

Another influencer that was brought in was Kageyama, a food blogger who would go to lesser known restaurants and promote family businesses rather than larger, well-known establishments. Hinata seemed particularly close to him while they were filming, but would turn beet-red and run off whenever Atsumu teased him about it. The two were spotted together in public a couple of times after filming, but both refused to comment on it.

So when people realised that the 5th year anniversary was just around the corner, about 4 months away, both internet fans and hosts of the show alike were sitting on the edges of their seats to see what Kuroo would do this year. After all, no one had expected the show to last half this time, but here they are. (Atsumu could also tell that it would be one of the biggest episodes yet, since Kuroo had been far more sleep deprived than usual. He was always holding a large black coffee as he worked.)

“Yeah, what’re we doin’ for that?” Atsumu asked, packing up his things as he spoke, “Heard it’ll be a lot m’re pricey than last year.”

“We’re still finalising some of the details, we just need to ask if you have a working passport or not.” Foster looked over at Kuroo, who had his head in his hands as he watched over the footage from today’s filming, 3 empty cups of coffee surrounding him, “our producers are… making sure everything’s going smoothly.”

“We’re goin’ overseas?”

“Like I said, still in the works for now. You and Sakusa would need to be on your best behaviour too, since you’ll be travelling a lot together.”

Internally, Atsumu was screaming, bawling and ripping out his hair. He could work with Sakusa for the few hours that filming took, but the idea of having to spend time in another country with him almost 24/7 made him want to cry.

Externally, he could only sighed dramatically.

“I can’t work with ‘im for that long, can’t I go with someone else?” He whined, “Why can’t I partner with Bokuto or Hinata? My cooking makes way more sense with them.”

“Miya, you know we can’t separate the two of you, especially not for something so important, the viewers would throw a fit if we did that.” Foster, sighed before dropping his voice, “if you really want to, we can look into finding some new hosts and changing the pairings around after these episodes are filmed. But no promises.”

“For real? I won’t need ta work with ‘im after this?” He grinned. No more snarky remarks or dirty looks, he could finally work with someone who was bearable to work with. Maybe someone who actually cooked like he did, or with someone that didn’t find every chance to belittle and demean him.

“Again, no promises. But we’ll see what we can do,” Foster patted Atsumu’s shoulder, “keep up the good work, and let us know about your passport soon. We can pay for a new one if needed.”

“Thanks.” He replied as Foster went to go and tease Kuroo, who still looked like he hadn’t slept in years.

Atsumu knew for a fact that he did not have a passport. Before moving to Tokyo, he hadn’t even been outside of Hyogo until he was 13 for a volleyball club workshop, which was the furthest he had ever been from home until he moved to Tokyo. He sure as hell never been to another country before. He had wanted to see what other countries were like since he was young. The wealthier kids at his highschool would always brag about the weird and outlandish foods they tried, showed off pictures of animals that Atsumu had never even heard of, and flashed souvenirs from their trips abroad. It was a 25-year long dream come true.

It was almost perfect. Almost.

He tried not to think about the black-haired man he'd be stuck with for the entire trip, however long it would be. Kuroo would never plan a trip that would cost a lot of money, when Atsumu had done a guest episode in Nagasaki he was forced to sleep in a 2 star hotel because travel costs had already eaten into the show’s tiny budget.

For a nationally beloved show that had been running for 5 years, it sure felt like it was still on its first season, with absolutely no changes to the routines, filming and budget of the show. Despite receiving countless sponsorships, including some of the biggest guest stars on the internet and even being mentioned in some Western shows, nothing about the production had actually changed. “If it’s not broken, don’t fix it” was Foster’s motto.

“I don’t get it, what’s the problem?”

“Samu! Weren’t you listening to me? I don’t just haveta deal with ‘im when filming, but I haveta deal with him all day!” Atsumu flopped onto his thin mattress, dropping his phone next to his ear as he whined, “ I’m not gonna survive! I’m gonna go crazy!”

He heard Osamu sigh on the other side of the phone, mumbling something under his breath, “I thought that he didn’t talk to you, how will that drive you crazy?”

“Because I need to talk to someone Samu! I have no idea where I’m goin’, what if every time you’re awake I’m too busy workin’ or sleepin’? Hinata and Bokkun aren’t gonna work with me too! I’m gonna be all alone! You know what happens when I can’t talk to anyone for too long!” He thrashed and turned dramatically in his bed as he spoke. He had never really been completely alone before. His brother and mum were always just a phone call away, in highschool and university he was surrounded by countless friends that he never met again, and even now he had the adoration of fans and the coworkers constantly surrounding him.

In all honesty, he didn't know what would happen if he couldn't talk to anyone for too long, because it had never happened before. The longest he had ever gone without it was when he got sick at 13 years old and had to be quarantined in a spare room for a week. He barely managed to get through.

“‘Tsumu, why don't ya just try and talk to Sakusa-san? The worst that's gonna happen is him ignoring you,” he heard Osamu chuckle slightly before continuing, “besides, you had a crush on ‘im before the show started, didn't ya? Ya haven't dated anyone in years, might be nice to have someone again.”

Atsuku gasped dramatically, “‘Samu! I did not have a crush on ‘im! Who even says that anymore, I'm not 7!”

“But ya did say that's one of the hottest guys ya’ve seen, didn't ya?”

“If you're not gonna be helpful I'll hang up”

Osamu just laughed loudly, and eventually agreed to drop the subject after much complaining from Atsumu.

The next morning, he arrived to work just like any other day. He arrived at his trailer, put on his chef outfit and posted a morning selfie onto his Instagram story before the makeup crew arrived.

After putting on his makeup, he continued to scroll through his social media, chewing on some gum as he waited to be told by Kuroo what today would be about. He used to be allowed to eat food before filming, but ever since he spilled a cup of instant noodles all over his fancy white coat he was banned from bringing any kind of stainable, crumbly or sticky foods into his trailer.

Just like every morning, he slowly got out of his chair and made his way towards the trailer door when he heard 3 distinct knocks. On the outside would be Kuroo, standing with his arms crossed and eyebags deeper than the day before. He would be scolded about how long it took for him to answer, about how Kuroo had dozens of other crew and hosts that needed to be told about today's schedule and how his partner was yelling at him last night about his terrible sleep. Then he'd finally start to explain the contents of the day's episode and what Atsuku needed to make.

But today wasn't like any other morning. It was unlike any morning he'd ever had. Because on the other side of the door was not his cranky and sleep deprived producer, but his annoyed and, very unfortunately, hot co-host.

Sakusa wore a matching chef’s outfit to Atsumu, except with his name stitched onto the chest pocket. His raven-coloured, curly hair was styled with his signature wave, and his dark moles painted over with some eyeliner to make them stand out against the bright set lights. When Atsumu’s brain finally registered that it was him, he almost fell backwards.

“Oh, Sakusa-san, is somethin’ wrong?” He asked while collecting himself.

Sakusa’s answer was short and direct, “Why'd you take so long to come out?”

“Oh, I thought ya were Kuroo,” Atsumu smiled awkwardly, “if I knew it’was ya I would've answered sooner.”

“So you're the reason why we're always behind schedule?” He clicked his tongue in annoyance, “figured it was either you or the shrimp.”

Atsumu laughed at the comment, but quickly turned it into an awkward cough as Sakusa stared at him.

“You don't usually come ‘ere, must be somethin’ important. Is Kuroo busy?” Atsumu peaked his head out the door, looking around for any sight of the man.

“The coffee shop I usually buy from had a 2 for 1 sale. Take one.” He held out his arm, holding a generic white coffee cup that he hadn't noticed before. He looked down at the cup in front of him, then back up at the man holding it. Was he going crazy? He stared, dumbfounded, as Sakusa tapped his foot impatiently.

“Are you taking the cup or not?” He asked in an annoyed tone.

“Oh, yeah!” Atsumu scrambled to take the cup, almost burning himself with the coffee as it spilt over the lid. “Thanks for that, ‘ppreciate it.”

Sakusa just hummed quietly in response, quickly walking away and turning into his own cabin. Atsumu took a sip of the coffee. It was sickly sweet, with some kind of sugary syrup inside. Far sweeter than the instant coffee sachets that Atsumu was used to and enjoyed drinking. Despite that, he still finished the whole cup, and kept it on a shelf in the trailer. It was a funny memory, he told himself. It was the first time Sakusa had ever spoken to him first. Was this the kind of coffee Sakusa liked? He had always assumed that he was a black coffee guy, or someone that would only put a bit of creamer and nothing else. He never took him as a sweet kind of guy. His mind was running with a million questions. Why did he buy second coffee, why did he make it so sweet, and most of all, why did he give it to Atsumu, of all people?

Still, it was a nice surprise.

Filming that day, much to Atsumu's comfort, was just like any other. In this episode, Atsumu was tasked with cooking omurice, a dish that he had notoriously failed to cook in the past. This would be his 4th attempt, and he was not excited to become another meme on the internet again. Sakusa had to bake with cream filled eclair to match the - hopefully - silky texture of the eggs. As usual, he broke the first batch of eggs he had attempted to cook, and Sakusa belittled him as he pulled out his perfectly made desserts. By some miracle, Atsumu managed to not break the 5th batch of eggs that he cooked, instead resulting in a deformed-looking roll that he placed on top of the pre-made rice. Sakusa was already well into decorating his eclairs, perfecting each and every drip of chocolate that fell on top of the eclairs. He could already see the internet making fun of him and his wonky eggs next to Sakusa’s constantly perfect cooking.

Sakusa turned towards him and visibly grimaced at the sight of the eggs, shaking his head as he dusted the tops of the eclairs with sugar powder.

“Is that really the best that you can do? How many times have you failed already?” He scoffed.

Atsumu just laughed and ignored the comment. He wasn’t going to let Sakusa get away with that one. He picked up a bottle of ketchup, shaking it a few times before turning to the camera and flashing his signature smile, “Well everyone, I think that’s the best I’m gonna get it today. Now to add some finishing touches.”

He drew two dots on the egg, and a little frown underneath them and eyebrows turning in to form a grumpy looking face. In the upper corner, he place two more smaller dots, taking a Quick Look at his creation before tilting it towards the camera.

“Well everyone, here is the final product. This dish is inspired by my lovely cohost, Sakusa Kiyoomi.” Atsumu made sure that Sakusa was paying attention before he continued, his smile growing even larger, “I call it omi-rice! For Omi-san!”

In the corner of his eye, he could see the camera quickly pan from his dish to Sakusa’s face. His expression was unlike any he had seen before, a weird mix of shock, annoyance and amusement. His mouth hung agape, dark eyes staring at Atsumu with a clear message. Why? Why would you do this to me? Atsumu knew what would happen after this episode was posted, the internet would go crazy over this one interaction, they would began speculating on how close the two of them are. Are they actually friends behind the scenes? Or perhaps this is Atsumu’s way of finally biting back at Sakusa’s constant bullying. Or maybe, just maybe, the two of them were a bit closer than any of that.

Atsumu never understood why the internet went so crazy over this stuff. Just one line will give them something to talk about for weeks. He supposed if Hinata or Bokuto did this to each other, the internet would just call it a cute interaction, maybe even make a few memes about it and quickly move on. But the internet loved any type of interaction between Atsumu and Sakusa because, well, there just wasn’t any of it.

Of course, Atsumu knew all of this before he even picked up the sauce. He knew that he would have to spend the next 3 months in interviews discussing this one egg. But to see that look on Sakusa’s face, a look that he had never seen before, was more than worth it.

After filming ended, like always, he changed out of his clothes in his trailer and began to say goodbye to each of the crew members before leaving. As he waved goodbye, to Kuroo, who was far too immersed in the recording of today’s episode, he felt a hand grab his arm. He whipped around to see Sakusa, his face unreadable and his black eyes staring deep into his own.

“Let’s talk.”

Atsumu was then dragged towards the side of the set where the crew had just finished packing up. He stood face to face with the dark haired man, and after what felt like an eternity of silence, he finally removed his arm.

“Damn Sakusa, no need to be so rough. I’m always happy to chat.” Atsumu laughed awkwardly, hoping to hide his fear as he waited for a reply, “what’s up?”

“What you did today.”

Yep, Atsumu knew he was fucked. He had occasionally teased Sakusa in the past, and every time it resulted in him getting the death glare for weeks on end. He forced out a laugh much louder than before, and looked around the room for any type of help. But the crew all gave him the same look, you’re on your own for this one.

“Yeah, sorry man. I just thought it would be funny. I can ask Kuroo to take it out of-“

“No what you did,” Sakusa cut him off, “was good for entertainment. Foster’s been grilling me lately about not making interesting episodes for a while now, he should be off my back until the anniversary.”

Now it was Atsumu’s turn to be shocked. Who was this man and where did he come from?

“Really? I thought ya’d be pissed.”

“It’s… not what I expected. But I think it’ll be good for the show,” Kiyoomi took a deep breath in before continuing, “we should do more things like that. Get some attention for the show before we go on tour.”

“We’re going on tour?” Atsumu grinned. This must’ve been why they needed his passport, “why didn’t anyone tell me about this? When are we going? How did you-“

Sakusa looked puzzled, “Did they not tell you what we’re doing for the anniversary?”

The two looked at each other, confused. Sakusa sighed, “give me your number, I’ll send you the details.”

“Oh that’s fine!” Atsumu exclaimed far too quickly, “I’ll just ask Kuroo.”

“Don’t bother him with this stuff. I already know all the details, I can just send it to you.”

Sakusa pulled out his phone, passing it over to Atsumu who began typing in his number. He paused for just a moment, confused yet again as he looked up, “don’t you already have my number? We had to exchange them on the first day.”

“Why would I keep it? I didn’t need it then, just type it in.”

Atsumu chuckled under his breath, just quietly enough for him not to hear. Of course he didn’t keep his number, he should’ve expected that. He finished typing in his number, then scrolled up to the top of the page. As discreetly as he could with Sakusa standing just in front of him, he changed his contact name from “Miya (Work)” to “Tsumu (Friend)”, quickly saving it before handing Sakusa the phone back. When Sakusa saw the name he pulled a face similar to the one shown today, only now mixed with exasperation.

“What’s wrong, Omi?” Atsumu laughed as Sakusa cringed, “if we want to keep these interactions up ya can’t just call me “Miya” on camera! It’s gotta look like we’re friends.”

“We’re not friends.”

“I know, but the audience doesn’t know that. Imagine how good this will be in your next interview.” Atsumu waved him goodbye, grabbing his bag on the way out as he screamed at himself internally for his stupid stunt.

When he made his way home, as always, he called Osamu. He told him all about the weird day he had, from the coffee to the weird interaction he had before leaving.

“Why do ya think he’s acting like this? He nev’r showed interest in what I did before, he even deleted my number right after meeting me!”

Osamu, as always, was not helpful.

“Maybe he likes ya” He laughed, “your crush likes you back, ya should be celebrating right now. Not complaining to me.”

“‘Samu! I do not have a “crush” on him! Be serious, why do ya think he did this?”

“I already told ya my answer, if ya don’t accept it I don’t know what to say.”

He groaned loudly, rolling onto his stomach and staring at his phone in irritation, “Samu, you’re the worst.”

Osamu just laughed, “When ya finally realise that ya like him, ya owe me 100 000 Yen”

“I’ll give ya 1 000 000 Yen if I do. Better get used to being broke though, because it ain’t gonna happen.” He then promptly hung up and stuffed his face into his pillow. Why did he have to be stuck with the hardest person to read?

Atsumu had always considered himself a people person. It was second nature to him, he was good at reading people ever since he was a child. He could tell when people were only being nice to his face, the people who genuinely wanted to know him but were too afraid to talk first, the kids he should stay away from at all costs. He remembered in elementary school, when kids had tried to seperate him and Osamu to bully his brother while he played on the swings. But Sakusa was none of these people, he was completely unreadable. An enigma.

Atsumu had also always considered himself an overthinker, and only slept for 4 hours thinking about Sakusa. What did it all mean?

The next day he had to film part of a commentary for a special edition of the show. He rocked up 90 minutes late, barely had time to apologise to Kuroo before rushing into his trailer.

It took him about 5 minutes of trying to squeeze into his chef’s coat without unbuttoning it first, attempting to style his bedhead and splash his face with water before he noticed a coffee cup placed in the middle of his bench. On it read a simple note written in neat, almost script-like handwriting, “don’t be late again”. He paused for a moment, holding up the lukewarm cup and taking a small sip. It was the same sickly sweet liquid from yesterday.

He had already expected to be lectured by Kuroo the second he stepped onto the set. He walked in with his head bowed down, profusely apologising to the camera crew as he made his way onto the interview couch. On it sat Sakusa and Akaashi, a reporter that often came in to interview cast members for these special episodes. Off to the side, Kuroo stood with his arms crossed, glaring down at Atsumu as he entered. He could tell Kuroo was holding back from cursing him out in front of his entire staff, managing to take a deep breath before gritting out, “Get on set now. Come to my office after you’re done.”

Oh, he was so fucked.

He quickly hopped onto set, sitting next to Sakusa on the double couch across from Akaashi.

“Thanks for the drink.” He whispered.

“Sure.”

Atsumu mentally rolled his eyes. What did “sure” even mean?

The interview started off pretty standard, just talking about all the key moments from last season’s run. Akaashi was a relatively reserved man who simply read out all the questions in front of him in an almost robotic voice, only probing for more whenever he thought something interesting would happen. He was, admittedly, a very good reporter. Atsumu, as always, tried to put on his best self and answered all his questions with what he thought was funny. Sakusa answered with short and direct answers, never saying more than absolutely necessary. Still, viewers seemed to love this dynamic, so Kuroo never told them to change.

These interviews were very rarely about the actual contents of the show or about cooking, but rather for the superfans of the series to learn more about their favourite TV hosts. The questions were usually more about Atsumu’s personal life than whatever he did on TV, not that he minded. He loved talking about himself.

By the end of the interview 2 hours later, Akaashi had already begun to relax in his chair, even laughing along with Atsumu’s jokes. Akaashi cleared his throat before asking the last question for the day, “Just before we finish today, how do you feel about the upcoming tour? I heard that you’re going overseas, do you know where you’re going?”

Atsumu reminded himself to thank Sakusa later for sending over the information about the tour the day before, “Yep! We’re gonna go to Australia, Italy and France! Please stay tuned to watch us there!”

“All the fans are wondering,” Akaashi ran his fingers underneath the next question, “do you think that you’ll find any love overseas? In all the years of being on Kitchen Aces you’ve never once mentioned finding a special someone. Do you think that you’ll come back with any special news after this trip.”

Every interview, Akaashi never failed to ask about his love life. Hinata and Bokuto have both referenced being in a secret relationship, and rarely posted pictures of their partners. Sakusa, if ever asked, would not even entertain the question and intentionally give the dryest answer known to mankind.

So that only left Atsumu to receive all the questions.

“Like I always say, if I ever find someone, you’ll be the first to know!”

The interview wrapped up fairly soon after, and after being berated by Kuroo for 15 minutes straight in his not-soundproofed office and receiving many pitied looks from the rest of the crew, he finally managed to change out of his clothes and begin heading out. Stepping out into the cool evening air, Atsumu sighed, his thoughts drifting back to Akaashi's words. He had never intended on finding love, he had always believed that if someone was meant for him, they’d come at the right moment. He adjusted his cap, pulling it lower over his eyes to avoid being recognised as he headed to the bus stop.
Just as he rounded the corner of the building, a voice called out, cutting through the cold night air. "Hey, Miya!"
Atsumu’s head whipped around to see Sakusa jogging slightly towards him, wearing only a tightfitting white t-shirt that stretched around his toned muscles and some dark grey track pants. They had never interacted with each other after filming before, and Atsumu had never seen Sakusa in casual clothes. Even in interviews and public appearances, he had always dressed up, usually getting Atsumu scolded for not wearing nicer clothes on camera. He wore outfits like a navy blazer over a white shirt or a nice cotton jumper with some slacks, while Atsumu typically grabbed the first t-shirt he saw in the morning that was washed and had no branding on it. He had never seen Sakusa wear something so… casual.

It was hard not to stare.

“Sakusa! What’s up?” Atsumu tried to keep his eyes off his muscular arms. He looked up, accidentally looking straight into the man’s dark eyes. Shit. He’d have to settle on staring at his perfectly groomed eyebrow.

“I just thought that since we’d have to go on tour together,” he began to pull out something from the pocket of his pants, “we’d need to discuss logistics. I’ve talked to Kuroo about all the different foods and activities that he will be getting us to do. Please do some research on them so that you don’t put us behind schedule.”

He handed Atsumu a folded up sheet of paper. Unfolding it, he saw a list written in the same elegant script as the notes he had received earlier with detailed descriptions of the different foods they’d have to make and places to visit. He scanned through the list, recognising a couple of the locations and foods. He thought that it was an odd combination of countries, one in a continent basically no one had really travelled to and two more in Europe.

“What the hell is Vegemite?” He asked aloud, his fingers scanning under the short description Sakusa had written, “A savoury Australian spread made from yeast extract. Rich in flavour and salty.”

“Apparently it’s a rather acquired taste, though I’ve never tasted it before.” Sakusa added.

“Thanks for this,” Atsumu waved the paper before carefully refolding it and tucking it into his backpack, “How’d ya even get all this anyway? Kuroo never talks to me about this stuff when I ask him.”

Sakusa’s rolled his eyes, “If you’d actually show up on time and listen to him, he talks to you. He doesn’t tell you things because it’s too much of a headache.”

Atsumu bit back a retort. Sakusa had already gone out of his way to help him, and Atsumu had temporarily forgotten how frustrating he could be.

“Well, see ya next week.” Atsumu smiled, awkwardly offering a high five before leaving. He didn’t know if it was because Sakusa didn’t know what it was, or because he didn’t like others touching him, or because he really just didn’t like him, but he simply nodded and left to grab the rest of his things leaving Atsumu standing embarrassed with an unreciprocated high five.

When he finally went home and finished complaining to Osamu about his day, he decided to take a better look at the paper he had carefully placed into his bag. It was exactly what he expected, a list of any possible things he’d be tasked with doing and the new foods that he’d get to try. The filming for the tour was going to be a bit different than the typical Kitchen Aces episode, where they’d have to cook traditional foods of the country and be judged by locals and guest stars also flown in from Japan.

At the bottom of the page, Atsumu had noticed a small list of names scrawled down with a few notes leading from them. Kageyama, the food vlogger that Hinata had become friends with had a note reading “not very judgemental for the ginger’s cooking, not sure how he will react to others”. Underneath “Bread and Tofu” had “Probably dating, will tease hosts a lot. Most likely participating in the challenge episodes” written beside it. Akaashi had “will be interviewing while cooking, keep an eye on any bad questions”. Tucked away in the very corner, Sakusa had scrawled down something, clearly in a rush, “Kuroo’s sponsor? Rumours may be true”.

The page briefly described a vlogging element of the tour as well, where all the hosts would need to travel around the city and film themselves with their partner exploring the various places on the days they weren’t filming. Atsumu groaned into his pillow in frustration, he already had to travel to another country with Sakusa, now he’d have to spend every day with him? He only saw Sakusa 4 times maximum in a normal week.

Atsumu spent the next few hours curled in front of his laptop, watching random videos in languages he didn’t understand and looking through food blogs describing the various foods he’d be cooking. He looked up what to do in an airport, what he should bring on an airplane, and what to do in the small chance that he was motion sick.

Over the next few weeks leading up to the tour, Foster finally reached out to Atsumu to finalise travel arrangements. When Atsumu had first received his passport, he immediately facetimed his family to show off the little blue book that he'd been waiting for years to get. Oddly, Sakusa and Atsumu had started a small tradition where Sakusa would bring Atsumu a sweet coffee in the mornings they were filming, occasionally with a small note attached scolding him for being late, or reminding him to tuck in his shirt before running onto set. After filming, the two would discuss the episode and how they could improve future ones.

Atsumu never knew how to react when Sakusa spoke to him. He never knew where to look, what to say or how to address him. But it was still progress he never thought was possible. Some days, he would even call them friends.

The night before they had to leave for the tour, Atsumu couldn’t lie down for more than 5 minutes before needing to double check that he had packed everything, then spend the next hour trying to stuff everything into 2 suitcases and a carry bag. He kept Osamu up all night, texting non-stop about all the things he’d get to see, sending pictures of the inside of his fully stuffed suitcases asking if he should pack anything else, and begging for a response after Osamu stopped texting back at 4:30 in the morning. Before leaving, he had made his bed for the first time that year, cleaned his bathroom and swept the floor.

By the time he was on the production bus on the way to the airport, he was exhausted. He was basically half-asleep throughout the entire check-in process, his mind barely comprehending the hundreds of signs pointing in all directions and the endless hallways. If it weren’t for Hinata and Kuroo constantly pulling his arm to the next spot, he probably would’ve gotten lost before making it through the metal detectors. He had completely crashed while waiting for the plane to arrive, barely registering Kuroo trying to explain to him what he needed to do after landing.

He was, however, completely awake for the entire 10 hour flight from Tokyo to Melbourne. He jumped around in his seat, grinning from ear to ear as he felt his stomach dropping during take off. He sat in a middle seat, which was, according to Bokuto and Hinata, the worst seat on the plane. Next to him in the aisle seat was Hinata, who was equally excited to be on a plane for the first time. Next to the window sat Sakusa, who was expectedly quiet for most of the flight. Across from him sat Bokuto, Akaashi and Kageyama, who had all seemed pretty relaxed during all of takeoff.

He tinkered around with the TVs on the back of the seat in front of him, fascinated by the hundreds of movies and TV shows available. He had even managed to convince Bokuto to play a few rounds of chess through the screens, both of them being equally terrible at the game and giving up after constant stalemates.

“Hinata! Look at the little jelly cup!” Atsumu laughed, poking the almost frozen jelly with a wooden fork. He had already devoured his entree, a single stale bread roll, and his main meal of the flight, a box of fried rice that looked both under and overcooked, “I’ve nev’r seen anythin’ like it before!”

“Do you think they’ll have any extra food? I don’t think one box of rice was enough.”

In front of them, Kuroo poked his head between the seats and sternly said, “We are not going to be paying for any extra food. You can buy it yourself.”

Hinata frowned and simply shrugged, looking through the overpriced on board menu. Atsumu looked past him to see Bokuto sitting next to Akaashi, talking his ear off about kangaroo meat and how he’s never even seen a photo of one before the trip. Akaashi was trying to calm him down, to no avail, but still seemed to laugh along as Bokuto spoke.

“I wonder how they know each other” Atsumu wondered aloud. Hinata looked over to see the two of them, then turned back to Atsumu with a confused expression.

“Oh, you didn’t know? They’ve been dating for like, 7 years,” Hinata chuckled, “that’s the guy Bokkun had a huge scandal about when the show started.”

Atsumu’s mouth hung wide open, trying to comprehend what he had just heard. “I thought the rumour was fake! Bokkun likes men?”

Hinata laughed again, much louder this time, “‘Tsumu, you’re really bad at telling when people are dating sometimes. How long did it take you to figure out me and Kageyama are dating?”

“You’re dating ‘im?” Atsumu whipped his head to look up at Kageyama, who had his headphones tucked in and watching some cheaply made action movie.

“Dude, you liked all my posts with the two of us. We were literally on my couch, holding hands. What did you think that was?”

“I thought that a guys were just really good friends!” Atsumu exclaimed, a little too loud. Hinata just shook his head in disbelief.

“I feel bad for anyone that ever liked you, ‘Tsumu. They could confess to your face and you’d think they’re just a close friend.”

Hinata’s gaze shifted past Atsumu, ever so slightly, before resuming looking through the menu. Atsumu looked over to Sakusa, who was curled over in his seat, clasping his stomach like his life depended on it.

“Sakusa, are ya ok?” Atsumu tried to lean down to look at his face, but Sakusa quickly turned his head away.

“I’m fine,” Sakusa said in a strained voice, clearly not fine, “don’t talk to me.”

“Are you feeling sick?”

There was a long pause before Sakusa finally answered, “...No.”

Atsumu just leaned back in his seat, looking over at an obviously sweating and pale Sakusa. It wasn’t any of his business, he told himself. There was about 4 hours left on the flight, and as he flicked through the movies on his tv, he eyed the sick-bag in front of him. He pulled it out ever so slightly, making sure that it was at an easily accessible point and deciding to watch a sappy rom-com to pass the time.

About 8 hours into the flight, Atsumu felt his seat jolt forward. He looked over to see Sakusa with both hands clamped over his mouth, looking almost green. It was the opposite to the image of the perfect and poised man that Atsumu had to deal with for the past six years. If it wasn't for the fear that he would have to sit next to a vomit-covered seat for the next two hours, he would’ve laughed. He grabbed the sick-bag in front of him, opening it and shoving it into the hands of the clearly nauseous man in front of him. He spent the next 5 minutes listening to Sakusa hurl into a paper bag, praying to whoever was above the plane that it was thick enough not to break.

Much to his relief, it held its shape until Sakusa finished throwing up, leaving behind a pungent smell filling up the cramped economy room of the plane and a man who looked like his soul was sucked out of him by one of those ghost things from Harry Potter.

“Ya ok down there?” Atsumu patted Sakusa’s back as he groaned in pain, “I thought ya weren’t sick.”

“Don’t laugh at me, I already feel shitty enough.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He waved over a flight attendant, holding a single finger up to his lips and pointing to “lemongrass and ginger tea” on the on flight menu. The lady nodded her head, promptly taking away the full paper bag and returning with a small cup filled with hot water.

“Sakusa, I got ya some tea,” Atsumu pulled down his tray and carefully placed the cup on top, trying to lift the half sleeping man, “I heard it’s good when ya’re sick. Drink up.”

Sakusa lifted his head slowly, loose curls falling gently over his face and brushing his cheeks, his face slightly flushed and drowsy. Atsumu’s breath stopped for just a second, staring at the dishevelled man in front of him.

Until he breathed out and Atsumu was hit with the stench of a vomit again.

Sakusa took the cup, almost chugging it before placing it back down and leaning against the window. His eyes fluttered ever so slightly, long eyelashes stained with small tears as they finally closed.

“Thanks, Atsumu.” he mumbled.

Atsumu whipped his head around. Sakusa didn’t seem to have registered what he just said, and just shuffled to try and make himself more comfortable. Atsumu just smiled, “No problem. Happy ta help.”

With that, Sakusa slumped over completely asleep on the bumpy walls of the plane. Atsumu nodded, plugging in his earbuds and trying to resume the movie. Once it finished, he had no idea what the plot was about and couldn’t remember a single thing from it. All he could think about was the black haired man sitting just next to him with their legs pressed together.

Chapter Text

The first thing Atsumu noticed when they got close to the airport was the distinct lack of red terrain and desert that he had seen in all of the posters and videos during his research. All he saw before landing were stretches of forests and farmland going on for what felt like forever. 

When they finally got off the plane, Kuroo had somehow managed to lose Hinata in the sea of people before finding him taking selfies with some fans. The filming crew had sent most of their equipment over to the hotel before arriving in Australia, and so they were tasked with making sure that no other hosts or guests would run off again.

After taking what felt like a ridiculously long shuttle bus ride, Atsumu finally managed to see the bright and flashing lights of the city. Lights sparkled along the river, reflecting the colourful lights of a large Casino nearby. Despite it being almost midnight, the streets were still full of people busking, partying and fighting. 

“Where’s the big bridge?” Atsumu asked, confused. It was certainly different from the pictures that he had seen online. 

Sakusa, who had seemingly regenerated all his health during the bus ride, rolled his eyes before replying, “That’s in Sydney, we’re in Melbourne. Did you read any of the notes I gave you?”

“Hey! Why’d he get notes from you, that’s not fair!” Hinata whined, dramatically shaking a very tired Kageyama. Sakusa did not respond. 

When they finally arrived at a hotel, a giant building with massive marble birds sitting atop black pillars illuminated by warm lights that made the white walls look almost golden. Kuroo ushered them all to a corner just across the road from the hotel, trying to do one last head count before entering.

“Alright everyone, each room has two beds in it, so partner up.” Kuroo instructed. 

From behind, a cameraman scoffed quietly, muttering, “Is this a field trip or something? Is he going to give us a curfew next?”

“If you’d like a curfew, that can be arranged.”

Atsumu turned around to see people already beginning to form pairs with each other. Bokuto almost immediately grabbed Akaashi, and Hinata turned away from Atsumu to poke Kageyama teasingly. So much for friendship.

“Oi, Kuroo! Who are ya roomin’ with?” Atsumu called out to the rooster headed man.

“We’re expecting another guest to come later, so he’ll stay with me.” Atsumu thought back to the tiny note Sakusa had scribbled into the corner about Kuroo’s sponsor. This must’ve been him. 

As Atsumu continued to look around, he could tell that basically everyone had already found someone to room with. All of them except for…

Shit.

To Atsumu’s surprise, Sakusa walked up to him, almost nonchalantly. 

"Looks like everyone else has paired up," Sakusa said, "Would you like to room together? I don't know any of the crew members well, and we need to get to know each other better anyway. For the show."

Atsumu hesitated for a moment, taken aback by the fact that Sakusa, of all people, had asked him first. "Uh, yeah, sure," he finally replied, trying to mask his surprise. "Sounds good."

They made their way to the room, which was surprisingly spacious compared to all the other hotel rooms they had stayed in before. Twin beds were neatly made, separated by a small nightstand. Atsumu set his bags down and took a deep breath, trying to shake off the unease that had settled in. It would be fine, he told himself. Nothing would happen. 

"I guess I'll take this bed," Sakusa said, pointing to the one nearest the window. Atsumu nodded, settling onto the other bed, which felt strangely foreign and unfamiliar despite its comfort. Just like when he first moved to Tokyo. 

As they unpacked in silence, Atsumu stole glances at Kiyoomi, who seemed completely at ease. He seemed to glow against the city lights shining behind him, even brighter than the river that they had crossed beforehand. The quiet was broken only by the occasional rustling of clothes and the distant hum of the city outside.

When it was finally time to sleep, Atsumu found himself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The soft glow of Melbourne filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow in the room. He could hear Kiyoomi’s steady breathing from the bed next to him. No matter how much he tossed and turned, he couldn’t get his mind to stop running. It was jet lag, he told himself. Just jet lag. 

The sun had barely begun to peak over the horizon when Kuroo had come knocking on the door, yelling at everyone that they had to be out and ready within the next hour. By the time the crew finally assembled around a makeshift outdoor kitchen, the sun was already high in the sky. Each person was tasked with cooking Australian food from a simple set of instructions and a few pictures that they were expected to recreate. Kageyama and the rest of the hosts would have to rate it. Then, an Australian chef that Atsumu had never heard of would rate the food. 

The filming took almost the whole day. Atsumu could feel his skin starting to melt under the heat, with the sun almost blinding him every time he looked upwards. The set was made to look like they were in the countryside, and the production team complained about the amount of cars and noises from the public that they’d have to edit out in post-production.

He saw fans, just outside the fence, holding signs written in large, colourful English words. He was never very good at English during highschool, and definitely couldn’t remember enough to decipher what was written. They waved around magazines and pens, begging for autographs. A group of girls to the side held up their phones, filming their every move. Atsumu could already see the behind-the-scenes compilations popping up on social media. 

His thoughts were broken as a block of ice hit the back of his neck. He shrieked, jumping forwards and almost falling before catching himself. 

“Shoyo! Don’t scare me like that,” Atsumu sighed, “I almost had’a heart attack.”

“I tried calling your name. Not my fault you were too busy checking out those girls.” Hinata responded, passing him a cold bottle of water, “Damn, they sure are energetic. I could never stay outside in this heat without getting paid.”

“I wasn't checking ‘em out… I’m just tryna figure out what ‘eir signs say.”

Hinata squinted his eyes, lifting his hand to shield them from the sun, “ Sa-ku-at-su for life . That’s what the pink sign with the heart says.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure, I don’t think it’s a word.” Hinata pulled out his phone, carefully typing in the English word and clicking enter. The page took a few seconds to load, and when it began to slowly show the pictures, Atsumu almost fell in disbelief. 

The photos were full of hearts, with links to videos of him and Kiyoomi. It showed fanart of the two of them on dates, photoshopped images of the two holding hands or edited to look like they were much closer than they actually were, and was that…

Were they kissing ? 

“Damn, for someone you hate, your fans sure love you guys.” Hinata turned on auto-translate, scrolling through the various search options, “They even wrote stories about you guys. Lots of interesting titles, look at this one.”

Hinata shoved his phone in front of Atsumu’s face, laughing as Atsumu reluctantly read the screen, “Love at First Bite”.

Atsumu sighed as Hinata continued scrolling, occasionally laughing and trying to show Atsumu whatever else he had found. 

“Y’know what?” Atsumu said, “I don’t care if they wanna make that stuff, it just shows how much they like me.”

“And Sakusa. Together. With kids and a dog.”

“That’s stupid, Omi doesn’t even like dogs, he thinks they’re too dirty.” Atsumu paused, “I think he’s a cat person.”

Hinata looked up for just a second, a look of confusion slowly turning to a devilish grin. Atsumu felt a chill crawl up his spine. 

“I thought calling him Omi was just for the cameras, now you even know what pets he likes?”

“Shut up! Yer just making stuff up!”

A camera man turned around and shushed them, glaring at them before turning back around to film. Kiyoomi had just finished cooking some kind of meringue, with jam and various fruits meticulously placed on top. He, of course, received raving compliments from all the judges, and had that smug smile on his face.

God, Atsumu hated that smile. 

The dessert was promptly cut up, with a small slice being given to each of the camera crew. Atsumu and Hinata continued to scroll on the phone, gasping for air as they laughed at the ridiculous edits and fanart of him and Kiyoomi (and unsurprisingly, him and Hinata). They probably looked pretty suspicious, huddled together under a tree giggling at a phone. 

“What are you two doing?” Atsumu whipped his head around to see Kiyoomi standing in front of them, holding two plates of whatever meringue and cream dessert he had made. Hinata jumped back, dropping his phone onto the grass below them. The screen showed an edit of him and Kiyoomi, with some romantic English lyrics overlaying them. 

Can Omi read English? Atsumu hoped not. But from the look on the black-haired man’s face, his hopes did not come true. 

“Hey Sakusa, did you know you two are real popular with the western fans?” Hinata laugh awkwardly, scrambling to pick up his phone, “we were just, uh, trying to understand our other fanbase.”

Kiyoomi eyed Hinata suspiciously, “Sure.”

“What made ya come over?” Atsumu asked.

“I was just coming over to give you these,” he handed them the plates, “it’s pavlova, some kind of Australian dessert.”

“Why does he have so much more fruit! You didn’t give me anything!” Hinata pointed at his almost barren plate compared to Atsumu’s, which was almost overflowing with various berries and syrup.

“Swap if you want, I don’t care what you do.” 

Hinata’s glare shifted ever so slightly, his eyes darting between Atsumu and Kiyoomi, “I see how it is.”

He turned towards Kageyama, jogging towards him to steal some of the fruit from his plate. Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, then stared at Atsumu awkwardly.

“Uh, thank fer this I gue-”

“Try it,” Kiyoomi cut him off, a little too quickly, “I mean, I don’t really care if you eat it. But the cream will melt soon.”

Atsumu took a hesitant bite of the dish, then another, less hesitant bite. The sweetness of the meringue paired with the jam and fruits were like a match made in heaven. He almost inhaled the rest of the plate, scraping up the last bits of handmade-whipped cream.

“Holy shit Omi, this is delicious.” Atsumu said through bites. Kiyoomi was staring at him, seemingly lost in thought, “Omi?”

“Oh, uh,” Kiyoomi coughed, “You’ve got cream on your cheek.”

“Thanks,” Atsumu quickly tried to swipe at his face, to no avail.

“It’s on the other side, wait, just let me do it.”

Before Atsumu could respond, Kiyoomi leaned forwards and pressed his fingers on Atsumu’s cheek. His warm hand gently wiped off the cold cream, and Atsumu could feel his face heating up and his heart getting faster, ever so slightly. 

Why was his heart getting faster???

“It’s um, clean now.” Kiyoomi said, stumbling as he stepped back.

“Oh, yeah, right, thanks.” Atsumu responded.

That night, Atsumu went on his phone just before going to sleep. He could hear Kiyoomi’s soft breathing on the bed next to him, his chest slowly rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He needed to get his beauty sleep, Atsumu supposed. 

As he finished reading through all the emails he was meant to read before going on the trip, he got a message from Hinata. It read:

HINATA

<link>

So much for hating him

You two look REAL close here 😘

Atsumu slowly opened the link, and it was a video of him and Kiyoomi chatting with each other under that tree. It was obviously taken by the fans that were standing outside. Kiyoomi’s back was facing the camera, Atsumu saw himself try to wipe the cream off his cheek. Then, Kiyoomi leaned in, his head blocking the view of the camera. As he stepped back, the camera zoomed in to see a very red, and very flustered Atsumu.

Well, that certainly wasn’t helping the allegations. He got another message. 

HINATA

Did you see the video? I know you’re reading this.

Atsumu quickly shot a response before putting down his phone and going to sleep.

ATSUMU

I don’t hate him

And yeah, we’re getting pretty close 

The next few weeks went like a blur. Interviews, fan greetings and dealing with a constantly motion-sick Kiyoomi. The video of him and Kiyoomi under the tree had gone viral, with edits and hundreds of tweets being made of them. Anti-shippers analysed every angle of the video trying to argue that they “weren’t close enough to be kissing” (they were pretty damn close) and shippers had argued that it didn’t matter. Old clips of the two of them also started resurfacing, “proving” their relationship. Atsumu didn’t really care, he laughed with Hinata about all the posts and even tried to send some particularly incorrect ones to Kiyoomi, but he was often left on read - or even worse - he would just receive a “ok.” or “mm.” in response. 

After leaving Melbourne, they went to the USA, China and Italy. At some point, Atsumu started to take note of all the nitpicky things Kiyoomi had while traveling. He ended up with a list called “Omi Stuff” full of reminders on his phone. It wasn’t a very long list, but Atsumu had been scolded one too many times for his liking. The PR team also didn’t love all the videos that showed Atsumu running after Kiyoomi apologising for accidentally using his exfoliating foaming cleanser as makeshift shaving cream (the internet thought they had broken up) or photos of the two of them in makeup stores, with Atsumu paying for an entire paycheck’s worth of skincare products (The internet took it as him begging to stay together). Said list included: 

• Don’t touch anything in the skincare basket
• Don’t touch anything in the soap basket
• Don’t touch any hair products that you didn’t buy 
• Bring extra vomit bags and motion sickness tablets
• He likes sweet coffee

The last one was a new discovery. Atsumu had made the mistake of handing Kiyoomi a black coffee before an early morning interview, only to be met with a disgusted glare and a dramatic cough. After that, he made sure to order the sweetest, most obnoxiously sugared coffee he could find for him.

By the time they arrived in Paris, Atsumu was running on muscle memory, navigating through airports with Kiyoomi’s bags in one hand and a suspiciously expensive bag of skincare in the other. The Eiffel Tower loomed in the distance as they drove through the city, the late afternoon sun casting a golden hue over the streets.

“Excited?” Atsumu asked, nudging Kiyoomi’s arm.

Kiyoomi glanced at him, still green from the plane ride, then at the city unfolding outside the window. “Mm.”

Atsumu grinned. He took that as a yes.

It’s almost Christmas now, and the city of lights is feeling the winter chill. The streets are dusted with a light snowfall, and the iconic landmarks are decorated in festive splendor, with twinkling lights strung across the Seine and the Christmas markets brimming with people. The crew was bundled up in heavy coats, scarves, and hats, braving the cold as they hustled through the streets of Paris, their breath visible in the crisp air.

“Paris, huh?” Atsumu grinned, nudging Kiyoomi’s shoulder. “You think it lives up to the hype?”

Kiyoomi raised an eyebrow, glancing at the festive lights before shrugging. “It’s not bad.”

Atsumu couldn’t suppress his smile. “Guess that’s as close to a yes as I’m gonna get.”

The day’s challenge for Kitchen Aces was a holiday-themed feast, and the kitchen was a chaotic but fun mess. Atsumu, who was given a terribly written recipe for French onion soup, focused on getting the caramelization just right, while Kiyoomi breezed through any French dessert, his confidence unmatched as usual. Bokuto’s Navarin, a French lamb stew, was a bit more of a struggle, with him accidentally spilling broth everywhere, but at least the producers had a good laugh. Hinata tried to recreate ratatouille, had no idea what he was doing but was determined to give it his best shot. The fact that none of them had seen the dish before didn’t help, and it quickly became clear that his version of ratatouille looked more like a pile of roasted vegetables than a beautiful, artfully arranged dish. 

As Atsumu was packing up his station for the day, he felt a finger poke him in the back. He jumped up and turned to see, to his surprise, Oikawa and Iwazumi standing behind him. They looked as fashionable as ever, wearing matching blue scarves over long, woollen trench coats. Oikawa also wore his signature smile, and slung his arm over Atsumu’s shoulder.

“What the hell?” He yelled, “When did ya even get here? They didn’t tell us you were comin’.”

Oikawa laughed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Well, I’m just that good at slipping into places unnoticed, apparently,” he teased, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, clearly amused by Atsumu’s flustered reaction.

Atsumu narrowed his eyes, trying to act nonchalant despite the growing heat on his face. "Yeah, right." 

“So, what's up with you and Omi? Seems like you two are getting real close,” Oikawa asked playfully, with a hint of curiosity. He watched Atsumu carefully, knowing all too well how to poke at him when he was trying to avoid answering.

Atsumu felt his face go red. “I have no idea what y’re talkin’ about,” he stammered.

Oikawa raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Don’t joke with me, I’ve seen all of the videos online. You guys are becoming even more popular than us.” He leaned in slightly, voice lowering to a teasing whisper, “The fans are going crazy. You’re practically trending every time you’re in a frame together.”

Atsumu groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. “Come on, Oikawa, you’re gonna bring that up now?”

“You can’t hide it forever, Atsumu. The whole world’s already figured it out.” Oikawa smirked, glancing over to where Kiyoomi was working silently in the corner, completely oblivious to the conversation. “I’m just saying, you two are a perfect match, at least in the eyes of the internet. I’m starting to think I might have to move over and give you guys the spotlight.”

Atsumu’s heart was pounding. He turned around quickly, hoping to change the subject. “I’m just - we’re just - cooking, Oikawa. Nothing more.” His voice was more defensive than he intended, but Oikawa wasn’t letting up.

“You’re both playing it cool, but everyone can see it,” Oikawa teased, a grin spreading across his face. “You know, it’s the little things - the way you two can barely keep your eyes off each other when you think no one’s looking.” He gave Atsumu a pointed look. “It’s obvious, you know. Kinda cute, actually.”

“There’s nothing going on between us,” Atsumu sighed, walking away. Hopefully he didn’t notice how red he had gotten. 

“Just don’t go stealing my spotlight, alright? I’ve got enough competition with Hinata and Kageyama already.”

“What does it even matter?” Atsumu finally asked, frustration creeping into his voice. “It’s not like you two are actually dating.”

Oikawa’s expression softened for a moment, but then he burst into laughter. “Oh, Atsumu, you’re adorable,” he said. Then, without missing a beat, he walked over to Iwaizumi, who had been scrolling on his phone behind him, and kissed him.

Iwaizumi blinked, and he quickly smiled as he leaned in, whispering something only Oikawa could hear. Oikawa pulled back with a wink at Atsumu before strolling away, tossing one last, playful comment over his shoulder. “You’ll figure it out eventually, buddy.”

Atsumu stood there, stunned for a moment, before his cheeks turned even redder. He raced over to Hinata, still processing what he just saw. 

"Hinata!" Atsumu said, a little too loudly, catching Hinata’s attention.

Hinata glanced up, smiling brightly, unaware of what was coming. “What’s up, Atsumu?”

Atsumu lowered his voice, looking around cautiously before leaning in. “Oikawa and Iwaizumi, they’re dating."

Hinata blinked at him, then shrugged casually. "Yeah, obviously."

Atsumu’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "Wait, what? Ya knew?"

“Yeah, man," Hinata said with a grin, still focused on his task. "It was pretty obvious. I mean, they’re literally holding hands right now."

Atsumu looked over to the side, and saw the pair with their hands intertwined as they spoke to Kuroo. Oikawa’s head leaned on Iwazumi’s shoulder as they spoke, and Atsumu stood there, dumbfounded, his brain trying to catch up. "But I thought it was just an act! How did you guys figure it out?"

Hinata shrugged again, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Honestly? It was just, you know, the way they looked at each other."

Atsumu opened his mouth to argue but found no words coming out. “But... Oikawa kissed Iwaizumi right in front of me, he wasn’t even tryin’ to hide it!”

“Atsumu, you really didn’t know? They’ve been practically joined at the hip for years. Everyone knew.” Hinata rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, “Next you’re gonna tell me you didn’t know Kuroo and Kodzuzen are dating either.”

Atsumu froze, his face paling as his eyes darted between Hinata and the rest of the group. “W-What? Kuroo and Kodzuzen?”

Hinata laughed, clearly amused by Atsumu’s reaction. “Dude, they’ve been dating for ages. Come on, it’s practically painfully obvious. They’ve been wearing matching rings for like... forever."

Atsumu stood there, flabbergasted, his mind slowly processing the information. He shook his head, almost in disbelief. “Wait, are you telling me that everyone knew this except me?”

Hinata grinned wider, clearly enjoying the moment. “Pretty much, yeah. Don’t worry, though. You’re catching up. Maybe next time you’ll be the one who notices before anyone else.”

Atsumu groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I feel like I’ve been living under a rock this whole time.”

After filming wrapped up, Atsumu headed back to his shared hotel room. He spotted Kiyoomi’s familiar black hair from across the foyer. The man looked, as always, impeccable, with meticulously curled hair and a white coat that seemed to perfectly bring out his dark eyes. Kiyoomi then turned around and Atsumu stopped in his tracks, his eyes lingering a moment longer than he intended. 

“Hey, Omi!” Atsumu ran up to him. 

“What do you want?”

Atsumu leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so no one else could overhear. “I was thinkin’... it’d be nice if we could wind down tonight with a couple of drinks. I mean, it’s our second to last night of the trip, and we haven’t done anything with just the two of us. Plus, you actually know French.”

Kiyoomi’s gaze softened, clearly amused by the request. “You want me to buy alcohol?”

Atsumu grinned sheepishly. “Well, yeah. You know I’m not good with languages. I’d probably end up buying some weird-ass wine and end up with a headache.”

Kiyoomi sighed, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. “Fine, just wait in the room. I’ll come back soon.”

Once he made it up to their room, Atsumu flopped onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, staring up at the ceiling. The hotel room was quiet without Kiyoomi in it, the absence of his usual complaints about Atsumu’s mess or his too-loud breathing oddly noticeable. Atsumu rolled onto his side, eyes flicking toward the door.

How’d they even get here? Just the two of them, sharing a room after an exhausting recording, bickering like always. It was familiar. Comfortable. The kind of thing that used to mean nothing.

But now?

Atsumu shifted, pressing his face into the pillow. It smelled like hotel detergent, but underneath that, something distinctly Kiyoomi - fresh, clean, grounding.

His chest tightened.

Oh.

It hit him all at once. The way he looked for Kiyoomi after cooking every meal. The way he listened, really listened, when Kiyoomi talked. The way he never minded when Kiyoomi snapped at him, because at least it meant he was paying attention.

Shit.

Atsumu groaned, his eyes snapping to the door at the sound of Kiyoomi unlocking it. He sat up just as Kiyoomi walked in, plastic bag in hand, eyes flicking to him with a raised brow.

Kiyoomi tossed the bag onto the table and pulled out a six-pack, setting a can in front of Atsumu before plopping onto the couch. Atsumu sat down next two him, opening the can and taking a large swig from it. 

“Didn’t take ya for a cheap beer kinda guy Omi.”

Kiyoomi smiled, the soft smile that Atsumu still wasn’t used to. The kind of smile that made his heart stop for a second. 

“Oh yeah?” Kiyoomi handed Atsumu a can of cheap beer he had just bought, “what did you take me for?”

“Thought ya’d be one of the fancy wine people, ya know? The ones that go like this,” Atsumu swirled his can around dramatically to demonstrate, “and act all snobby and think they’re better than everyone.”

“I like my wines on special days, but on nights like this…” he trailed off and simply looked down at his can, then at Atsumu. 

“Like what?”

“The nights where I can just rest and not have to think about the world.”

“Yeah, I get what ya mean.” Nights where he could finally be himself, where he could show all the sides of him that the rest of the world had never seen. His actual laugh, his smile, the way he would tuck his curls behind his ear whenever he read a book. 

If someone had told him 5 months ago that he would be sharing a couch with Sakusa Kiyoomi, drinking beers and talking about themselves, he would have laughed out loud. He would’ve said that it was impossible, that there was no way he would ever hang out with such a boring man more than absolutely necessary. But the world works in mysterious ways, and now he was there, listening to Kiyoomi talk about the episode filmed today and all the problems he had with some French producer. As much as he tried, Atsumu never fully understood what Kiyoomi was saying, he was always distracted by the moles on his forehead or the way his nose twitched while he talked. Not that it meant anything. 

Atsumu leaned on the couch, popping open the beer and taking a big sip. The hotel rom was cold, yet he was feeling hot and couldn’t think straight. Maybe it was the alcohol, he thought, he had always been a lightweight. He kept adjusting his position, trying to cool himself down.

“‘Tsumu, are you ok?” Kiyoomi placed his hand on his forehead, and another hand on his own, “oh wow, you’re warm. Should I open a window?”

“What?” Atsumu broke out of his trance, “oh, uh, yeah. Thanks.”

He watched as Kiyoomi stood up, studying every step he took as he opened up the balcony window. The air from outside wasn’t cold, but brought in a gentle breeze that did nothing to help clear Atsumu’s mind. Kiyoomi spun around with that smile, that goddamn smile, and tilted his head slightly. His t-shirt fell slightly off his left shoulder, exposing his collarbones. 

In the middle of the Paris night sky, the first thing Atsumu thought was ‘wow, he’s beautiful.’

Then, as Kiyoomi slowly walked over to the couch and placed himself onto it, sitting far closer to Atsumu than before, he could feel his heartbeat from his chest to the tips of his fingers, beating twice as fast. The second thing he thought was, ‘oh, I’m in love.’

The third thing he thought was ‘I owe Osamu so much money.’ But that was ok. 

“I haven’t been able to relax like this in a while,” Kiyoomi turned towards him and chuckled, “it’s nice. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to relax with someone from the show, but you’re a bit different.”

“Why’d ya join it?” Atsumu’s words were slurring as he spoke, he really needed to slow down his drinking, “Didn’t seem like ya wanted to be there when I first saw ya.”

“I didn’t want to join, but I didn’t have a choice.” He sighed and leaned his head back onto the couch, “My parents were already mad because I wasn’t able to get into the restaurant they wanted me to join. I needed to show them I could make it.”

“But why’d ya have to show yer parents? Why not do it for yerself?”

“I, just. I can’t.”

“But, you’re the smartest person I know, if I was half as smart as ya I’d be way more annoying.”

Atsumu didn’t realize the words had slipped out until the room fell into silence. His heart pounded in his chest, loud enough that he was sure Kiyoomi could hear it.

Kiyoomi blinked at him, something unreadable flickering behind his dark eyes. Then, he let out a breathy laugh - small, disbelieving.

“You really are an idiot,” he muttered, but there was no bite to it. If anything, he almost sounded… happy.

Atsumu swallowed, gripping his beer can a little tighter. “I’m serious, Omi. Everythin’ ya do, it’s like ya put every bit of yourself into it. Even if ya don’t think it’s perfect, I can see how much ya care.”

Kiyoomi didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared down at his drink, fingers tracing the condensation on the can. His shoulders had loosened, just a little, and Atsumu realized something, maybe no one had ever told him before.

“I always thought,” Kiyoomi said slowly, voice quieter than before, “that if I wasn’t perfect, I wasn’t good enough. Not for them. Not for anyone.”

Atsumu felt a pang in his chest. He hated that Kiyoomi had been made to feel that way—like he had to earn the right to be cared for.

“That’s bullshit,” Atsumu said, shifting closer. “Ya don’t gotta be perfect for people to care about ya. You’re already good enough, Omi.”

Kiyoomi looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, Atsumu saw something crack in that carefully put-together exterior.

This moment - it was everything. Raw, vulnerable, real. Atsumu had never felt this close to anyone before.

And maybe, just maybe, Kiyoomi felt the same.

It was a little surprising. He had managed to get Kiyoomi, the Sakusa Kiyoomi, to talk about his emotions. 

Atsumu, then  tilted his head in confusion, “But you are though, perfect I mean. I’ve never seen ya mess up anything.”

Kiyoomi just sighed, “I know the only experience you have with this industry is the show, but nothing I’ve made has ever been close to perfect.”

“I think everything about you is perfect”

They stared at each other for just a moment. Shit , Atsumu thought, did he think that was weird? He waited for Kiyoomi to give him that weird grimace he always did when Atsumu said something stupid, or to just roll his eyes, but instead he just… smiled. 

It was a face he had never seen. Small dimples formed on the sides of his cheeks, and his eyes, deep and endless like the midnight sky just outside their window, sparkled gently as he looked at Atsumu. His smile was subtle, a gentle, fleeting thing, as if meant only for him - almost too subtle to notice, yet enough to make Atsumu’s heart stutter.

Dear God , Atsumu thought, Please let this be it. 

“That’s the first time anyone’s called me that.” Kiyoomi murmured, just above a whisper, “Not even my parents.They even tried to get rid of my moles, you know? Not even my face was good enough for them.”

“That’s ridiculous, ya look like one of those paintin’s they hang up in those old art museums,” Atsumu stared at the black dots across Kiyoomi’s skin, concentrating on the way they seemed to mark each and every flawless feature on his face. He hummed gently, before continuing, “Y’know, growin’ up in the country, I saw stars every night. None of that city nonsense, just a sky full of ‘em, stretchin’ on forever.”

Kiyoomi raises an eyebrow. “And?”

“And,” Atsumu says, reaching out without thinking, his fingers ghosting over the moles scattered across Kiyoomi’s arm, “ya kinda remind me of ‘em.”

Kiyoomi stiffened, as Atsumu traced lazy paths between the specks on his skin. He exhales, voice quieter now. “My parents hated them. Always told me to cover them up. Said they made me look unpolished.”

Atsumu frowns, his fingers stilling. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” He lifts his gaze, something softer settling into his expression. “Stars don’t need fixin’, Omi. They just are. And they’re beautiful.”

They both fall quiet, the kind of silence that feels comfortable, like a shared understanding without needing to be spoken aloud. Atsumu leans back against the couch, his shoulder brushing Kiyoomi’s, and for a moment, neither of them moves.

Kiyoomi’s fingers twitch slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. His gaze drifts to the floor, focusing on nothing in particular, yet somehow everything. Atsumu can hear the steady rhythm of Kiyoomi’s breathing next to him, a soft, grounding sound that made him feel like he was home. Safe, warm, comfortable. It’s simple. It’s quiet. And in that moment, it feels like enough.

Kiyoomi’s the first to break the silence.

“Why’d you join?” He asked in a quiet voice, “You didn’t seem like you knew what was going on when we first met.”

Atsumu chuckled, ”Dumb luck. Hinata needed a partner for a cooking competition and I happened to be free. Then it all just sorta happened.”

Kiyoomi raised an eyebrow, his voice casual but still laced with a hint of amusement. “So, you just happened to be free? That’s convenient.”

Atsumu chuckled, his grin softening as he glanced at Kiyoomi. “Guess so,” he said quietly, his tone shifting just slightly. He finally looked Kiyoomi in the eyes, the moment lasting a beat longer than it should’ve. They were so close, their faces just inches apart. He could just close his eyes, lean forwards, it would’ve happened so naturally. He glanced down at Kiyoomi’s lips, his mind racing. 

But before he could even think about closing the distance, his phone rang, the sharp ring slicing through the tension between them. Both of them jumped, and the moment was lost in an instant.

Kiyoomi coughed awkwardly, his face slightly flushed as he readjusted himself, “Who is it?”

Atsumu looked down at his phone. It was Foster. 

“I should uh,” Atsumu scrambled to pick up the phone, “I should pick this up.”

“If he’s calling you this late it must be important.”

Atsumu pressed the phone to his ear, and before he could even get a word in, Foster’s voice cut through the line.

“Hey Atsumu, good news!” He sounded exhausted, “You remember how you wanted to change hosts? Well, we’re adding some new hosts to help with the new season, so you can finally change it.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“I don’t have time for this Miya. Kuroo wanted me to tell you now because he had too much on his plate.” Foster’s voice was strained, clipped, and Atsumu could hear the fatigue in his words. “Anyways, you can go celebrate now. It’s 6am over here, I still need to get some coffee.”

Atsumu’s heart pounded, thudding in his chest like a war drum. His hands suddenly felt cold, the phone shaking just slightly in his grip. 

He slowly turned around, praying, with all the quiet desperation in him, that Kiyoomi hadn’t heard. Maybe, just maybe, the tension in the room wasn’t as thick as it felt.

But Sakusa was sitting there, his expression completely changed. His arms were crossed, posture rigid, his jaw set so tight it looked like he was holding back something dangerous - something raw. His eyes, dark and sharp, cut through Atsumu with a force that felt almost physical, like a blade dragging across his skin.

Shit.

Atsumu’s stomach dropped, a cold sweat trickling down his back. The air in the room felt suffocating now. It was like the space had grown too small, every corner pressing in on him, every breath too heavy. He could hear the faintest of tremors in his voice, the guilt curling up in his throat.

“What the fuck was that about?” Kiyoomi spat, his voice low, biting - there was nothing soft left in it. The sweetness from before? Gone. Completely gone. The weight of his words hit like a punch to the gut, and Atsumu flinched, instinctively pulling back, like he could somehow escape the sting of it.

“Omi, let me explain,” Atsumu said, voice shaky as he reached out, desperate to close the distance between them. He grabbed for Kiyoomi’s arm, his fingers brushing against the cool fabric of his shirt.

But Kiyoomi shoved him off with a quick, jerky movement, the rejection sending a cold spike of panic through Atsumu’s chest. The space between them felt miles apart. Sakusa stood then, his movement sharp and decisive, like he was ready to tear himself away from this situation, from Atsumu.

“Unbelievable,” Kiyoomi muttered under his breath, shaking his head, his words laced with disgust. He turned on his heel, his back already to Atsumu. He moved toward the door, every step deliberate, as if he were already severing something inside himself.

“Omi, wait-” Atsumu’s voice cracked as he stepped forward, his heart hammering so loudly in his chest he couldn’t even hear the words he was speaking. He could see it now, the unraveling of a thread he didn’t know he’d even been holding.

“Get out.” The words came out cold, final, the door opening with a harsh click as Sakusa’s hand gripped the handle. He pointed toward the hallway, his expression as hard as stone. “Don’t even grab your things. Just get out.”

Kiyoomi didn’t even look at him. He didn’t have to. His back was turned, and the finality in his movement - the cold dismissal - shattered everything. Atsumu stood there, paralyzed, for a beat, two beats, time slipping past him like it didn’t matter anymore.

Then, finally, Kiyoomi moved towards the door, still not sparing him a glance. Atsumu grabbed his phone, hurriedly walked up to Kiyoomi and tried to close the door. 

“I’m really sorry, it’s really not what you-” Atsumu’s voice cracked, barely a whisper, as he reached for him, desperate for something, anything, to fix this.

But Kiyoomi slammed the door shut with a force that rattled the walls, the sound reverberating through Atsumu’s bones. The impact was like a slap, sharp and stinging, leaving Atsumu standing in the middle of the hotel hallway, completely alone.

His breath hitched in his chest. His heart raced. Every muscle in his body seemed to scream for something, some way to take it all back, but it was too late. 

Hinata’s room was just a few doors down. Kageyama had already left for Tokyo 2 nights ago, no doubt trying to escape all of the last minute meetings and dinner parties that everyone else had to attend. 

Hinata opened the door after the 2nd knock, an exasperated look on his face. “What happened to you?”

“I did something really stupid.”

“Yeah, I figured. I think the whole floor heard you get kicked out,” Hinata sighed, “just, come in.”

Atsumu spent the next hour listening to Hinata calling Kageyama, the two of them debating whether Atsumu should be forgiven or not. Hinata fell asleep soon after, the room filling with the unfamiliar sound of light snoring and rustling. Atsumu laid in the twin bed across from him, eyes wide open as he stared at the ceiling. The bedsheets, the walls and the blanket were all the same. The distant noise of Parisian traffic hummed with the same restless rhythm, but in the walls of the room, Atsumu knew that everything was irreversibly different. 

It was 2am when he finally decided to get out of bed, it wasn’t like he was actually sleeping. He picked up his phone, and walked out to the balcony. The cold air bit his nose the second he tried to breath in, and every exhale left a white vapour that disappeared just as quick as they came. 

He knew Hinata cared, but he never quite knew how to make things right. So Atsumu called the only person who might. Holding the phone to his ear, waiting for the line to be answered.

“Hey ‘Tsumu, finally remembered about your brother, huh?” Osamu’s voice crackled from the other end of the line, “Been watchin’ the show, Sakusa and you sure—”

“Osamu,” Atsumu’s voice trembled, barely above a whisper. He choked on the words, his chest tightening, “I fucked up. I fucked up real bad.”

There was a long pause. Osamu’s voice shifted, no longer the light, teasing tone from before, “What happened?”

Atsumu’s breath came in shallow bursts as he fumbled for the right words. “I did something stupid,” he began, voice shaking, “I just, I thought everything was going so well, and I-I just had to go and-” He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

“Atsumu,” Osamu’s voice softened, calming. “Speak slowly. Tell me what happened, from the start.”

Atsumu closed his eyes, exhaling deeply, trying to ground himself. He buried his face in his hands, the familiar roughness of his palms offering little comfort. With a ragged breath, he began recounting everything, each moment, each mistake, the words that had been said. The air in the room felt thick, heavy, like it was pressing in around him as he let the truth spill out.

The line was silent for what felt like forever, save for the faint hum of the phone connection. Then Osamu’s voice came through, low and steady, his words cutting through the quiet.

“Damn. Alright. Okay.” Osamu sighed, a long, drawn-out breath as if collecting his thoughts. “Atsumu... you’ve always been good with people. Even when you’re bein’ a stubborn little shit, sulkin’ in a corner, people still stick around - because you shine. You always have.”

“But ya’ve always fixed things when I screw up,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I don’t know how to do that. Tell me how to fix this.”

Osamu let out a soft laugh, but there was no humour in it. “I never fixed things for you, Atsumu. I just told people what I knew you were thinkin’. But I can’t talk for you this time. Ya’ve gotta figure this out on your own.”

Atsumu’s eyes burned, his voice barely audible now. “I can’t do that. I don’t even know where to start.”

Osamu’s voice dropped to something softer, almost like a breath. “You’ll figure it out, ‘Tsumu. You always do. Just… listen a little longer this time.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavier than anything he'd said before, leaving  Atsumu in the silence of his own thoughts, unsure of what to do next.

Chapter Text

Osamu had told him that he would know how to fix things, but Atsumu couldn’t see a way out. 

After calling Forster to tell him not to change his co-host, he spent the last day of the trip helplessly chasing Kiyoomi around, begging to just be heard out, to explain, to apologize. Every time he thought he had a moment, Kiyoomi would turn away, his eyes cold, his posture rigid - an invisible wall that Atsumu couldn’t break through.

"Kiyoomi, please," Atsumu called out, voice strained. "I’m sorry, alright? I messed up. Just let me talk for a second."

Kiyoomi didn’t even look back. He kept walking, his pace quickening, like Atsumu’s words didn’t exist. The silence between them grew louder with every passing second.

“Kiyoomi? Just look at me for a second,” he begged, “Please- I promise I’ll leave you alone after-”

Kiyoomi finally turned around, his dark eyes piercing through Atsumu, hair messy and face completely expressionless. 

“Save it, Miya,” Kiyoomi spat out. “I don’t want to hear it. Just- Leave me alone. I’m done with this.”

Atsumu’s chest tightened as he watched Kiyoomi’s back grow smaller, the sound of his footsteps fading into nothing. The words he'd tried to say hung heavy in the air, unanswered, like a door that had already been closed.

The trip back to Tokyo was, to say the least, incredibly awkward for everyone involved. Kiyoomi had requested to change seats to an aisle seat next to Bokuto, leaving Atsumu next to Akaashi, who had clearly been looking forward to sitting with Bokuto for the next 13 hours. About 3 hours into the flight, Kiyoomi’s motion sickness kicked in, and Bokuto had no idea how to help him, leading to several instances of Kiyoomi’s lunch ending up in a bag and the carpet in front of them as Bokuto tried desperately to call for the flight attendants. It would have been amusing, given any other circumstance, but Atsumu couldn’t help but feel his stomach sinking as he watched Kiyoomi suffer. Once they landed, Atsumu had tried to help Kiyoomi collect his luggage, only to be glared at with a sickly-pale face and bloodshot eyes. 

The international trip had garnered plenty of attention for the show, with fans all over the world eagerly awaiting the new season. Atsumu would get stopped in the streets as he tried to shop, or when he was visiting Osamu to give him various souvenirs from his travels. The fans were polite, the majority just meekly asking for autographs and photos. Some would try to reference memes of him that he had never seen, and, though very few, some would ask about Kiyoomi. 

“You and Sakusa-san looked so close on TV,” one had said, “Do you guys hang out together a lot?”

Another had asked, “You can be honest, you and Sakusa are actually dating, right?”

Atsumu had tried to remember all of his PR training as he responded, keeping his answers vague and just smiling politely. Once they had returned to filming several weeks later, Atsumu had hoped Kiyoomi had calmed down, even slightly, so that they could talk it out. 

“Alright, guys! Let’s get ready to shoot! Camera’s rolling in 5,” Kuroo called out, “Where the hell is Sakusa?”

For the first time in the show’s history, Kiyoomi had shown up late to the shoot, his face completely void of emotion. He strolled up to Kuroo, whispered a half-assed apology and walked up next to Atsumu. 

“Kiyoomi, can we talk-”

“Shut up, the cameras are almost on.”

When the shoot started, Atsumu tried to do everything normally. He smiled confidently, cooked terrific food and threw snarky jokes towards Kiyoomi. 

But he didn’t respond. He stood there, stiff, with a scowl that didn’t even attempt to hide the tension. He was stone cold, eyes not meeting Atsumu’s once. Atsumu threw another comment, this time something playful, but Kiyoomi didn’t even acknowledge it. Just the same, emotionless expression.

“C’mon, Omi,” Atsumu laughed, trying to keep the mood light. “You’re not still mad about-”

“Can we just get this over with?” Kiyoomi interrupted, his voice flat and sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Atsumu froze, his smile faltering. The cameras were still rolling, the crew still watching, and the silence was deafening. It was bad, really bad. The rest of the filming dragged on in the same uncomfortable silence. Atsumu tried a few more times to break through, but each attempt felt weaker, more desperate. Each joke was met with a stony silence or a disinterested grunt from Kiyoomi. It was like he wasn’t even there, like Atsumu wasn’t even there, just two people in the same space without any real connection.

When they finally wrapped up, the crew scattered in a hurry, and the buzz of the set quickly quieted down, but Atsumu lingered, standing near the exit, trying to find the right words, trying to convince himself he wasn’t just losing his mind.

“Oi, Omi,” he called out, “Are we-”

Kiyoomi didn’t turn. He didn’t even look back.

“I’m leaving,” Kiyoomi said, his voice flat, as he walked away toward the exit. 

When the episode came out later that week, fans were enraged. Kuroo and the editors had tried to scrape together clips that didn’t make it obvious Kiyoomi was completely uninterested in what they were doing, tried to most focus on Atsumu’s jokes, took out any footage of Atsumu’s confusion and replaced the silences with various sound effects and music to no avail. It was clear to anyone watching that the episode was stale, with absolutely no chemistry between the hosts. Atsumu scrolled through various posts and reuploads, reading through the various comments ranging from “Not to be dramatic but if they don’t make up soon I’m going to start crying at my desk” to “It’s so obvious there’s tension. Please tell me this is just for the drama.” to “I already knew this season was going to be terrible. If they don’t resolve this I don’t think I can keep watching.”

Week after week, the episodes kept airing, and things didn’t get any better. Atsumu kept showing up, doing what he always did - telling jokes, throwing little jabs, putting together amazing dishes. But nothing was clicking. Kiyoomi stayed quiet, distant. He said what he needed to on camera, but that was it. No extra energy, no banter, no spark.

It started to feel weird, especially to the viewers. The usual rhythm between the two of them just wasn’t there. Atsumu would try to toss something Kiyoomi’s way - a joke, a comment - but it would fall flat every time. The fans kept watching, at first out of hope, then out of concern, and finally out of sheer morbid curiosity. Theories started cropping up in comment sections and fan forums. Had there been a fight? A falling out? Was this some kind of twisted marketing scheme? People slowed down clips and screenshotted barely-there glances, dissecting microexpressions, looking for signs of warmth, or even hatred. They too came up with nothing. 

Kiyoomi remained locked behind whatever wall he’d built. And Atsumu, week after week, kept showing up anyway, maybe if he just kept doing the dance, eventually Kiyoomi would join in again.But he didn’t.

Not that week.
Not the one after.
Not for a long time. 

It took about 5 weeks before Atsumu and Kiyoomi officially got a warning from Foster. Perhaps he too had hoped whatever petty feud was going on between them would have fizzled out already. They had been pulled into his office, separately, with Kiyoomi going in first and leaving minutes later with an even colder expression than he had going in. Atsumu once again attempted to say something to him, but Kiyoomi had already headed to his trailer. 

Atsumu hadn’t been in Foster’s office in years, maybe longer, but it looked exactly the same. Still kind of cozy in a way that didn’t quite sit right, like it was trying too hard to put you at ease. The plush chair was as soft as he remembered, which only made it worse. You would sit there, knowing that you were about to be reprimanded or given bad news. 

“Listen, Miya,” Foster started, sighing, “I know that you and Sakusa have never been close, but this is getting out of control.”

Atsumu looked at the carpeted floor, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as he mumbled, “Sorry, sir.”

“I’m not saying that you two have to be best friends, but at least remain cordial on set. Otherwise we’ll have to…” Foster trailed off, and Atsumu looked up , a flicker of panic behind his eyes.

“Have to what?”

“I know that you really wanted to stay hosts with him,” Foster began cautiously, “But we may need to reconsider changing your partners.”

“Ya said that we could stay together, that we would at least get the rest of the season.”

Foster raised an eyebrow. “It’s been weeks.”

“I know,” Atsumu said quickly. “I know. But I can do it. Just don’t split us up yet. Please.”

For a moment, the office was quiet except for the faint hum of the air vent. Foster leaned back in his chair, looking at Atsumu with something that might have been sympathy, or maybe just exhaustion.

“One more episode,” he said finally. “We’ll see how it goes.”

Atsumu exhaled, relief and dread mixing in his chest.

One more episode.

As he headed to his trailer, he spotted Kiyoomi’s dark, black hair speed walking out of the studio, giving a half-assed wave goodbye to Kuroo as he left. He wore a basic white t-shirt that hugged his body in a way that made Atsumu’s brain short-circuit for half a second. But now was not the time to be thinking about that. 

Without thinking, Atsumu took off running, sneakers slapping against the pavement with every frantic step. The sudden noise made Kiyoomi stop and glance back, his expression shifting rapidly - confusion, then annoyance, then the practiced, unreadable indifference he’d perfected lately. He turned to keep walking, but Atsumu caught up and grabbed his arm.

“Omi,” Atsumu panted, “Please, talk to me.”

“Let go of my arm.” He replied coldly, not even looking him in the eye. 

“I promise, if ya just hear me out today, I’ll leave ya alone afterwards.” Atsumu’s voice cracked, dropping to a whisper. “I promise, after today, we never have to talk again. Please.”

Kiyoomi paused, his jaw tight. Around them, a few crew members pretended to pack up their gear, but their eyes kept darting over, acting like they weren’t listening. 

“Not here,” Kiyoomi replied softly, “Outside.” 

Atsumu could feel his heart lift in relief as they felt, all eyes on them. He let Kiyoomi pull his arm until they were behind their trailers, the large metal containers blocking anyone from seeing them. They were finally alone. 

“Omi, thank you, I-”

He cut him off, “Spit it out, Miya, I want to go home.”

Atsumu paused. Right, Miya. He was back to Miya now, no longer Atsumu. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to say something. 

“I, uh,” he stammered, “It’s really not what ya think. I wanted to change partners ages ago, like way before we went on that trip.”

Kiyoomi’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond right away. He just stood there, waiting, probably thinking Atsumu would say something that would make sense of the mess between them. Atsumu didn’t have the right words.

“I mean…” Atsumu rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I didn’t really like you before, Omi. I thought you were… annoying. Like, really annoying. And I was kinda hoping to get a different partner from the start, but then we went on that trip.”

God, what was he saying? He knew everything that was coming out of his mouth was wrong, that this was going to ruin everything. Kiyoomi’s expression was unreadable, but his stance stiffened.

“I know I was a dick,” Atsumu continued, voice quieter now. “But after everything, after that stupid trip… I realized you’re not that bad, Omi. I don’t want you to hate me.”

There was a long silence as Kiyoomi just stared at him, his gaze unreadable. Atsumu tried to keep his eyes locked with him, but the weight of everything hanging between them made it harder than he thought.

Kiyoomi looked away, the tension still radiating off him. "So you thought I was a piece of shit, but after actually talking to me for a couple of weeks you realised I’m ‘not that bad’?"

Atsumu winced. “I didn’t say that. I know I screwed up-”

Kiyoomi’s shoulders stiffened, and he took a step back, distancing himself. “I can’t do this right now, Miya. I’m done talking. Go and change partners, that’s what you wanted anyway.”

He turned to walk away, Atsumu, with one final, desperate attempt to hold on, grabbed his arm. His fingers tightened around Kiyoomi’s sleeve, feeling the fabric strain beneath his grip. The moment Kiyoomi started to move, it was like something inside Atsumu snapped. He couldn’t let him go, not like this. Not after everything he’d just said.

His mouth moved faster than his brain, spewing out words without a single thought, “I don't want to change partners because I'm in love with you!”

They stood there in silence, the tension between them hanging like a thick fog. Atsumu could feel his pulse racing, his brain trying to catch up with everything that had just happened. His grip on Kiyoomi loosened as time seemed to stand still. He wanted to say something, anything, to break the awkwardness, but the words just wouldn't come. Kiyoomi didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe, his eyes locked on Atsumu’s face, waiting, or maybe just letting him wait.

Finally, Kiyoomi sighed, breaking the silence with a single word. “Idiot.”

Atsumu blinked, still a little shell-shocked. “Wha-”

Kiyoomi grabbed the sides of Atsumu's face, his fingers digging into the soft skin of his jaw as he pulled him in, closing the distance between them in one swift, urgent motion. Atsumu’s breath caught in his throat just before their lips collided in a mess of heat and desperation. It wasn’t gentle, it was raw, messy, and so much more than Atsumu ever expected.

After what felt like an eternity, Kiyoomi finally pulled away, the two of them panting as they caught their breaths. 

“Wha- What?” Atsumu finally managed to stutter out. Kiyoomi laughed, a silent, soft laugh like the one in Paris.

“I said you’re an idiot,” he whispered, “an idiot I’ve somehow fallen for, despite everything.”

Atsumu glanced around, spotting the back of a crew member’s head in the distance, and the quiet murmur of the crew as they began to slowly filter out of the studio. “We can’t stay here,” he murmured urgently, tugging lightly at Kiyoomi’s sleeve. “Someone might see us.”

Kiyoomi nodded, his expression shifting from that playful, unguarded smile to one of quiet resolve. Without another word, they moved as one, slipping away from behind the trailers and into the cool night air. The city lights blurred past as they drove. Atsumu’s house wasn’t far, an old apartment building where he could think, breathe, and try to piece together the whirlwind of emotions that had overtaken him. They talked until the early hours, unraveling every worry, hope, and memory that had led them to this moment.

They arrived to filming a few days later, both radiating with a warm glow as they went to their trailers. ‘One more episode’, Foster had said. Atsumu laughed, this was going to be the best one yet.

They stood under the warm studio lights, the crew anxiously waiting to film them. The filming that day was unlike anything they’d ever experienced before. As soon as the cameras rolled, it was like everything clicked back into place. 

Atsumu grinned, tossing a teasing line Kiyoomi’s way, and for the first time in weeks, Kiyoomi smirked back with no hesitation. There was no coldness in his eyes, no walls. He leaned in with his usual sarcastic comment, but this time, there was a twinkle in his eyes, a slight playfulness that Atsumu hadn't seen in what felt like forever.

“God, you really are an idiot,” Kiyoomi said, but there was no bite in his words. Just affection, and maybe even a little admiration behind the sarcasm.

Atsumu laughed, not missing a beat. “You’re welcome, Omi. You’d be lost without me.”

The crew behind the cameras exchanged amused glances, and even Foster, standing off to the side, couldn’t help but smile. It was the perfect episode, they were perfect. 

The fans were, of course, ecstatic at the new episode. Many joked that Atsumu and Kiyoomi had finally “kissed and made up” (not entirely untrue), while critics that were certain this would be the end of the show remained quiet. 

There was one moment in the episode that absolutely broke the internet in half. It started innocently enough: Kiyoomi had been looking for butter. Simple task. Harmless. But Atsumu had reached over the counter to grab it instead, his biceps putting on a whole performance like they were auditioning for their own show. The camera caught everything in excruciating, glorious detail: the subtle flex, the perfect lighting, and most importantly, the way Kiyoomi very visibly paused, blinked, turned a very distinct shade of pink, and looked away while pressing his lips together in a suppressed smile. 

Naturally, the fans lost their collective minds. Screenshots, GIFs, slow-motion edits, conspiracy threads, it was chaos. People were drawing arrows, making body language analysis videos, and posting captions like “TELL ME THIS ISN’T LOVE 🔥” and “that’s the look of a man who’s realized his enemy is actually his soulmate.”

Eventually, after days of spiraling discourse and Kuroo's increasingly unhinged texts, Kiyoomi caved and made a statement on his dusty, barely-used social media account:
“The studio was particularly warm that day.”

The internet was not satisfied.

One fan commented:
“So you don’t think Miya’s body is hot? 😕”

After a long 12-hour silence, Kiyoomi replied:
“I never said that.”

And just like that, the fandom combusted.

Years had passed since the final season of the show aired, since the lights dimmed on the set that had once been filled with tension, laughter, and a whole lot of questionable cooking decisions. The internet had moved on (somewhat), the fan edits had slowed (barely), and Atsumu and Kiyoomi had found something resembling peace - together.

They lived in a cozy apartment now, tucked a few floors up in a quiet building with a balcony that caught the sunset just right. Atsumu insisted on putting plants out there. Kiyoomi insisted on pretending to hate them while secretly watering them before Atsumu woke up.

Their lives had settled into a rhythm. Kiyoomi did the laundry because Atsumu always forgot a sock or three, and Atsumu did the grocery runs because Kiyoomi had zero patience for long lines or indecisive cart-blockers. On Sundays, they took turns cooking brunch, though it usually devolved into Atsumu trying to fry everything while Kiyoomi salvaged what he could with a sigh and a perfectly timed spatula grab. Evenings were spent on the couch, legs tangled, half-watching dramas and arguing over the plot. Kiyoomi liked to read before bed. Atsumu liked to bother him while he read.

Despite no longer being on the show, they both secretly loved the online attention. These days, they were more likely to be seen on cooking tours, in magazine spreads, or doing painfully chaotic vlogs from their kitchen where Atsumu talked too much and Kiyoomi made pointed eye contact with the camera like he was on The Office.

But when the producers called and asked them to come back as guest stars for a new anniversary special, they didn’t hesitate. Well, Kiyoomi hesitated. Atsumu said yes on both their behalf before Kiyoomi even got the chance to read the email.

That morning, Atsumu had slept in - again - his face buried in his pillow as Kiyoomi shook him awake. He wore a simple grey shirt and black pants, his hair impeccably gelled into a slight wave. 

The sun peeked through the window with a gentle hue, the smell of freshly-cooked eggs and rice wafting around their apartment. 

“‘Tsumu, we have to go soon,” Kiyoomi said, tucking Atsumu’s hair behind his ears as he groggily turned to face him. 

“Mm,” Atsumu mumbled, “5 more minutes.”

“You said that 10 minutes ago, get up.” Kiyoomi sighed as Atsumu wrapped his arms around him, dragging him down into the bed, “We really have to go.”

“Omi,” Atsumu whined, “Just 5 more minutes, please?”

Kiyoomi sighed, then sank into the bed, “My clothes are going to get wrinkled.”

Atsumu said nothing, pressing a kiss into the back of Kiyoomi’s head before falling back asleep.

They ended up being 15 minutes late to filming, to no one’s surprise. Now, standing in the familiar studio, same bright lights, same smell of oil and flour, same slightly panicked intern energy, they looked around, older, calmer, still absurdly competitive over the smallest things. The set had been updated - slightly glossier, new lights, newer faces buzzing behind the scenes - but the bones were the same.

“Ya ready for this?” Atsumu asked, adjusting his apron with the same grin he’d worn the first day they ever filmed.

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched. “You’re going to cry if I beat you again.”

Atsumu nudged him with his shoulder, grinning like an idiot. “You’re not gonna beat me. I’m in my prime.”

“Your prime was three years ago and involved setting a pan on fire.”

Before Atsumu could retort, one of the producers called out, “You’re up in five!”

They moved toward the set, side by side, instinctively falling into rhythm. The cameras rolled. The theme music played. The lights went up.

And just like that, they were back. Same banter. Same rhythm. But now with years of something softer between them, something built not in front of cameras, but in quiet mornings and late-night ramen and whispered apologies over burnt toast.

“Let’s burn this place down,” Atsumu joked, tossing a wink to the camera.

Kiyoomi looked at him, laughing. “Please don’t.”

And the audience watching from all over the world, new fans, old fans, the ones who’d grown up with them, felt that same familiar warmth spark to life again.

Just like always.