Chapter Text
Osamu knows that what’s going on is ridiculous. Being as busy as he is, you’d think there’d be no time to reflect on such things. But lately, no matter how exhausted he might be, Osamu just can not ignore the facts.
And the facts are - he’s been spending almost every night over the past five months in bed with Sakusa Kiyoomi.
Just to be extra mean, his brain supplies another fascinating statistic: the longest they’ve spent NOT sleeping together over this entire period is only two nights in a row. An away game over in Malaysia, the Jackals returning victorious and Kiyoomi hailing a cab at the airport at 2am to spend most of his upcoming day off pressed into Osamu’s queen mattress, the uncomfortable dip in it’s middle be damned.
Their first time was a total mess. Kiyoomi fresh out of a borderline abusive relationship, Osamu stressed out of his mind after surviving the first fiscal quarter, locking eyes from across the bar at a small queer dive Osamu likes for their disco playlists and Kiyoomi chose because his ex doesn’t go there.
Sakusa’s face drops immediately, turning a couple shades paler, but then he seems to realize something and suddenly scowls so hard it has to hurt. He must’ve thought that he ran into Atsumu, Osamu guesses, and since he feels especially mean this evening, he sneers at Kiyoomi with as much teeth as possible, winking before taking another sip of his drink. Unexpectedly, Sakusa holds his gaze and, in a very late retrospect, Osamu thinks he was probably a goner even back then.
Exhibit A: Osamu abandons his seat in favour of slotting himself at a somewhat awkward sideways angle between Kiyoomi and another patron. He starts the conversation with ‘Thought I was someone else, huh?’ and as he is being scolded for gloating, Osamu has the misfortune to be sober enough to notice the most breath-taking shade of pink creeping across Sakusa’s fair cheeks and…
Exhibit B: … It’s been a couple hours, so as the night grows darker, the bar empties out while the dancefloor thrums with more and more warm willing bodies. The DJ cranks the volume up for the growing crowd, and before long, their physical proximity becomes as much of a necessity as it is something both are seeking. Osamu’s elbow rests on the bar, while the other hand is placed on the back of Kiyoomi’s stool, broad body bracketing him in, shielding from the crowded dancefloor. Sakusa not so gracefully snorts into his glass, as Osamu vividly describes how he managed to stave off a sanitary inspector, who tried to squeeze a bribe out of him.
Exhibit C: It is late, so much so they both can not remember the last time they stayed up until this hour. The dancefloor is empty, DJ already left and the music is playing softly from a small sound system hanging above the bar. They are not as physically close anymore with Osamu perched on a barstool as well, but the air around is still warm and filled with something intangible and enticing. Kiyoomi’s voice is deep and a little raspy from shouting over the noise earlier, as he relays the story of his terrible last relationship and its’ disastrous end. And before he knows it, Osamu is transfixed by the man in front of him.
Kiyoomi’s lips barely part as he gets quieter and quieter, face relaxing into something blank and distant, and Osamu’s heart clenches at the haunted expression in these otherworldly eyes of his. They are as beautiful and dark as ever, but the warm light of the bar reveals a wet sheen of unshed tears, and, if he’s being completely honest, Osamu loses it a little right then and there.
Sakusa is lost in his memories until he feels a warm rough palm drape over his knuckles and he looks up at Osamu, confused and immediately ashamed of oversharing but Osamu sees right through him.
‘Stop blaming yourself, Kiyoomi,’ - he keeps his voice low, but it is still firm, even as the other flinches for a second at the use of his first name. -’This guy was an asshole to you, okay? Found your weak points and pushed until you gave in. And you sure as hell should regret the time you’ve wasted with that shitbag, but don’t you dare blame yourself for anything, understand?’
Damn, Osamu didn’t think Sakusa’s eyes could get any bigger, but, well, he did kind of overstep quite a few boundaries just now, didn’t he? And just as he starts regretting his own brash actions, Kiyoomi blinks, and the tears that have been clinging to his lashes finally spill, shocking them both into movement.
Kiyoomi lifts a hand half a moment before Osamu does, both reaching to wipe the unwanted tears away, and their fingers meet on Kiyoomi’s pinkening cheek. They are still again, the wetness on Sakusa’s skin forgotten and left to dry on its’ own as they lock eyes for what feels like forever. And after that Kiyoomi leans in, expression much less resolute than his movements, and as his lips touch the shell of Osamu’s ear, he whispers:
‘Take me home with you’.
And, looking back, there was no universe in which Osamu wouldn’t oblige. They pay, Osamu helps Kiyoomi put on his coat and lets his hand press into the small of his back as they walk up the creaky stairs and out into the street. He’s not sure if he should take his hand off, but then Kiyoomi leans into his side while they stand waiting for their cab, and Osamu thinks he might as well indulge. He opens a door for Sakusa before going to the other side and climbing into the car himself, and is met with a frowning stare from across the dark backseat.
‘Wha?’ - he asks eloquently and appropriately confused, at what Kiyoomi just shakes his head and turns towards the window. Osamu is about to ask again, because, as pathetic as it is, he doesn’t want to screw this up, but then he feels cold fingers tangle with his own where they lie on the seat between them. The way his throat dries out and his heart pounds in his ears is, honestly, terrifying, but Osamu lacks the presence of mind to jump out of a moving vehicle at the moment.
As the door of his apartment closes behind them, Osamu clears his throat:
‘Are you sure you want this? You can just stay the night if you don’t wanna be home alone, we could find a movie to watch and stuff?’
He’s aware that he’s babbling at this point, getting cold feet at the last moment and the humiliation only adds up as time stretches and he gets no answer. Toeing his shoes off, Osamu takes a sneaky breath to steady himself and turns around to ask again, but, well, he is truly being tested today.
The lights are not on yet, so he’s met with a black and white painting of Sakusa leaning against the front door, black curls stark over it and the porcelain face, eyes black again, like two ink wells, glistening and unmoving.
If maybe Osamu had some regrets about them both being a bit drunk before coming here, now he’s pretty much stone cold sober, and the anxiety coiling up inside him is gone, replaced by a warm and heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He leans over Kiyoomi’s hunched frame, snaking both hands under the unbuttoned coat to grab firm and hot at his waist. Taught muscles flex under his touch, Sakusa goes rigid for a moment, and with a long, quiet breath, relaxes into the hold. He suddenly looks exhausted and weathered, eyelids puffy and tender, hair frizzy, tangling in long eyelashes. Osamu reaches up, brushing the strands away, tucking them behind the ear, and his palm stays lying flat on the side of Kiyoomi’s neck, thumb brushing the line of his jaw.
‘Tell me, what should I do?’ - he asks, pressing a soft kiss to the other’s warm cheek. Kiyoomi’s next breath comes out shaky, and he grabs at Osamu’s broad shoulders as he brings them closer, chests almost flush against each other.
‘Please’ - is all he manages to get out, and while he doesn’t sound desperate, there’s an edge to it that makes Osamu decide to stop tiptoeing around.
And he finally kisses Kiyoomi in a way that makes both their minds go blank.
It’s still dark outside when Osamu is woken up by someone moving his limbs around. He groans and rolls to his side, watching with one half-open eye as Sakusa slips out from under the covers, shivers, grabs his clothes from the back of a chair and disappears into the dark corridor. Osamu rolls onto his back and tries to open both eyes as he thinks. He is not naïve or delusional enough to think that Kiyoomi isn’t about to sneak out before dawn to never acknowledge their hookup ever again. As the sound of running water drifts in from the bathroom, Osamu considers letting him do just that - leave now, to only ever see each other again when Atsumu or MSBY are involved, be awkward for a few months and then move on. And for some unknown and probably completely insane reason, the thought of doing this makes him sick to his stomach.
Not one to stall, he gets up, finds his discarded underwear on the floor and makes his way over to the bathroom, bare feet against cool floorboards helping to wake up a bit more. Sakusa is already dressed, hunched over the sink, trying to make his curls behave. Osamu watches him for a few seconds as he leans against the doorframe with his bare shoulder, remembering vividly why exactly Kiyoomi’s hair are such a mess. He clears his throat more out of politeness than necessity since his reflection is clear in the mirror above the sink.
‘Sure you wanna sneak out?’ - Sakusa frowns at his reflection.
‘Not really sneaking out if we’re talking right now,’ - he grumbles and the roughness of his voice makes some weird prideful feeling warm Osamu’s chest.
‘Fair,’ - he shrugs at that and heads in, crowding Kiyoomi against the sink. - ‘But I thought we could go back to bed and just relax, y’know, like normal people do at 6 am on a weekend?’
He hooks his chin over Sakusa’s shoulder, meeting his gaze in their reflection. He is very still for a few moments, dark eyes stern.
‘Do ‘normal people’ do that after a one-night stand?’ - he bites back, but Osamu had expected something like that, so he just smiles easily and yawns.
‘I mean, there isn’t really a rule book, I guess. But I just thought it would be nice to laze ‘round for a bit, maybe take a nap even. And then I could whip up some breakfast, or we could order if there’s somethin’ you want.’ - he mumbles, genuinely feeling sleep clinging to his brain.
‘You’re hard. You just want to have sex again,’ - Kiyoomi tries, and now he really sounds like someone who’s looking for excuses. Osamu smiles once more, brushing his lips over the side of Kiyoomi’s neck.
‘Well, this happens in the mornings,’ - he confirms, pressing closer to the other’s back so Sakusa can feel his half-chub against his ass. - ‘But we don’t have to do anything, I promise to behave. Just thought it’d be nice to cuddle, s’all.’
He watches intently how Sakusa’s resolute frown crumples for a split second, giving way to something raw and hurting, like Osamu’s words were the cruelest insult. He closes his eyes and tries to school his expression back to something neutral, or pissed, or anything else, really. Osamu keeps watching, and it’s like being unable to look away from a car crash. He steps back some, to give Kiyoomi space, though his hands stay on the rim of the sink on both sides of the other’s body.
‘Hey, it’s okay,’ - Osamu whispers, and, against his better judgment and attempts to give Kiyoomi some space, leaves the softest ghost of a kiss behind his ear. -’I just don’t want it to be weird between us now. If you wanna go home, maybe I could walk you back? Or at least call you a cab, I don’t know. Shit.’
Turns out he needs to compose himself, too, which is a truly horrifying turn of events, and he hides behind Sakusa’s shoulder, rubbing his forehead on it to calm down. There’s movement, and then Kiyoomi is facing him, winding unsure arms around his shoulders, cool fingers splaying across hot skin.
‘Okay,’ - and this one is small, but determined, like a trust fall you're not sure you'll survive. Osamu smiles, lips feeling the jut of a collarbone under a sweater.
Soon the sweater is off, and the rest of Kiyoomi's clothes too. True to Osamu’s promise, they just cuddle, until the warmth and comfort under the covers lull both to sleep. Kiyoomi wakes up, cheek pressed against the other's skin, and it takes him some time to gather himself enough to remember everything. But before he can attempt to escape once again, Osamu wakes up too, immediately insisting on cuddling some more ‘since ‘s the weekend’, and if Kiyoomi’s heart flutters shallowly in his chest at how his bare shoulders get covered in kisses, there’s no need to acknowledge it.
And so they go through a routine of a weekend morning spent together for the first of many, oh so many times now.
Kiyoomi learns that Osamu gurgles salt water every morning, makes even great freshly ground coffee taste like absolute shit, doesn’t watch anything while eating breakfast (psychopath?).
Osamu notices how Kiyoomi stretches subtly all throughout the morning, gently popping a joint here and there, prefers a light breakfast with some green tea or just a protein shake before practice, and eats things in a particular order. Oh, and also, that Kiyoomi just loves to kiss.
As soon as both have brushed their teeth, he becomes a real menace. This first morning they’ve shared is not an exception, Kiyoomi relaxing a bit into a casual rhythm of someone else’s domesticity, and before Osamu knows it, he is lifting Kiyoomi up onto a counter and is trapped there, rather willingly, for what feels like forever, just kissing and touching, warm and unhurried, until Osamu’s stomach growls so loud it startles them both.
‘Rude’ - Kiyoomi deadpans after a bit, pushing at the other’s shoulders, but Osamu doesn’t budge, instead hoisting Sakusa up despite all the protests and threats.
‘Let’s eat in the living room,’ - he proclaims cheerfully, dropping Kiyoomi on the couch, and before there could be any more profanities thrown his way, Osamu leans down and over, pressing Kiyoomi into the cushions, pushing both of his hands up, entwining their fingers, going back for more.
Only when the little bell over the door chimes, does Osamu startle out of his thoughts. He realizes, annoyed, that he’s been wiping down the same counter for literal minutes while spacing out, and throws the cloth into the sink at last.
There are only two people who could let themselves into the place after closing time, and since Osamu’s pressure isn’t climbing up and ears are not bleeding yet, it’s not his brother this time.
‘Someone’s tense,’ - Kiyoomi leaves takeout bags on one of the empty counters, walks closer, and wraps his arms around Osamu’s waist. As it happens, Sakusa is not only gorgeous but also very, very strong, so Osamu can just relax, sagging in the other’s arms, both mental and physical exhaustion catching up to him at last. He takes a deep, slow breath for what feels like the first time today and hums contentedly on the exhale.
A simple embrace shouldn’t feel this good, but it sure does. Especially when Osamu remembers that he hasn’t yet taken a shower after a full day of work in the kitchen, and he probably smells like frying oil and sweat, and despite it all Sakusa hugged him without hesitation, his warm cheek pressed to the shell of Osamu’s ear.
The anxious nagging in the back of his mind, however, is an insistent thing, and it reminds Osamu, that Kiyoomi is one of the reasons for his potential early greys, but then Sakusa’s big palms slide up his back, grabbing at his shoulders and squeezing hard.
Most coherent thought leaves Osamu’s mind along with a very embarrassing whimper, ripped from him by strong fingers, massaging his stiff muscles.
‘I’ve told you so many times to get a professional massage,’ - Kiyoomi drones, clicking his tongue to emphasize the ‘I Told You So’ tone of it all.
‘Why if I’ve got you?’ - unfazed, Osamu drops his chin onto his chest and makes a conscious effort not to drool.
‘You stink,’ - Sakusa hisses, ever petulant and, Osamu would bet, pouty.
‘And yet you are touching me. Even gave stinky ol’ me a hug!’ - Osamu chuckles.
The fingers working the knots out of his neck freeze for just a moment, but it still sobers Osamu up like a good slap. That’s it, right there. How overwhelming it all feels sometimes: the things they do for each other, without questions or judgement, not really asking for anything in return. After the first two weeks, the weight of all the small gestures and words became palpable, and now it’s almost six months , God dammit. And Osamu knows, just feels it in his gut in moments like this one, that Kiyoomi feels this suffocating weight just as much, is scared of it all the same.
Exactly like right now, or when Osamu wakes up in the middle of the night to drink some water or take a leak, and Kiyoomi is just laying there, looking at him, eyes as black and breath-taking as ever. But even in the dark Osamu sees the dread in them. The same haunted, blank stare Kiyoomi had when he was talking about his ex, like a trauma response in advance.
He fucking hates it.
‘My place?’ - Sakusa recovers quickly, clearing his throat. Osamu raises his head and makes sure to put on the most charmingly crooked smile before turning to face Kiyoomi.
‘Yeah.’