Work Text:
Atsumu Miya is hiding a secret.
From the very first day that Kiyoomi had met Atsumu at the Tokyo National Training Camp, he learned that the latter was loud and brash, unafraid to speak what was on his mind, always called others out if they were slacking, and had no regard for others’ personal space. It irritated Kiyoomi to no end. Kiyoomi couldn’t necessarily say that he hated Atsumu, but he really wasn’t certain what to call that strange flare of warmth he felt in his chest whenever he saw Atsumu’s stupid pretty face. That feeling often dissipated into something akin to annoyance whenever Atsumu opened his mouth.
Motoya had called it a crush. Kiyoomi had shot that idea down more than enough times.
Kiyoomi remembers that although Atsumu loved to talk, he never contributed to conversations about shifters, or where their family came from — unfortunately one of the most popular topics at the training camp.
It was strange. Someone who often led conversations suddenly going quiet was enough to raise a few curious questions, but Atsumu always managed to avoid them, offering offhanded and half answers instead. It had been passed off as Atsumu being part of the minority who didn’t accept shifters into their society, but the whole situation made Kiyoomi suspicious. Atsumu, who was wholly unafraid to give his own opinions, went quiet on what was arguably the most controversial topic of their time.
Kiyoomi remembers when Atsumu first caught his half narrowed gaze from across the circle the first night, a lazy grin crossing his lips. Whatcha lookin’ at, Omi-kun? Kiyoomi had scowled fiercely in response.
Atsumu is infuriating, even four years after their high school graduation. Kiyoomi soon learned after signing onto the MSBY Black Jackals that Atsumu remains nearly the same as his high school self. The only real difference is that he’s filled out, and that dreadful yellow hair has been dyed to a rather tame platinum blonde that suits his face. And four years later, Kiyoomi still feels that same warm sensation in his chest.
Kiyoomi’s eyes narrow as he watches Atsumu on the floor of MSBY’s training gym, sitting with his legs splayed as he stretches. He ignores the way that Atsumu’s practice jersey rides up, flashing a strip of pretty, tanned skin. There’s still something… off to Atsumu this time around. He’s become oddly more private and reserved, especially when the topic of shifters, relationships and kids comes up. Kiyoomi isn’t surprised that Atsumu’s still conservative about shifters; in the seven years he’s known Atsumu, the setter hasn’t spoken more than a single sentence about them.
Everyone knows that shifters exist in the world and coexist with humans, though not everyone is willing to accept them into their society. Kiyoomi can understand why; shifters are highly intelligent, and possess heightened senses, reflexes and strength. It’s an unfair advantage.
Then, there was the fact that Atsumu, who was never a very private person, somehow weasels his way out of questions about their own personal life during their weekly team get togethers along with hosting their said get togethers at his apartment. Something isn’t adding up, and Kiyoomi wonders if he’s the only one who’s noticed it.
“Tsum-Tsum!” Kiyoomi’s pondering gets broken when he hears Bokuto’s bellow echo throughout the gym. He returns to rolling his wrists to loosen them as the wing spiker bounds out of the changing room. “Are you going to join us tonight?”
“Sorry, Bokkun, but I’m busy tonight. Samu’s comin’ over to my apartment since we’ve had something planned for about a week now.” Atsumu shoots Bokuto a lazy grin as he gets back to his feet, shaking out his limbs. Bokuto practically wilts.
“Aww… that’s too bad.” Bokuto sighs. “But Tsum-Tsum, how come we never get to come over to your apartment?” Kiyoomi watches as Atsumu’s grin falters slightly, golden eyes flickering from side to side as if searching for an escape.
“Ah… well, my apartment’s real small, and I consider it my own safe place. But I’ll come to the izakaya with you all next time.” Bokuto lights up at that, successfully distracted.
“I’ll hold you to that, Tsum-Tsum!” Bokuto whirls around, and Kiyoomi expels a sigh when he comes bouncing over to Kiyoomi.
“Hey Omi!” Kiyoomi grimaces at the nickname, but greets Bokuto with a polite tilt of the head. “Do you wanna come to the izakaya with us? It’ll be our treat! You and Shou-kun are the newest members of the team, so it’ll be a team bonding thing.” Kiyoomi wants to say no. He and Hinata have been on the team for about a month, yet Bokuto and the rest of the team still use the same excuse. Kiyoomi, as everyone on the team knows, dislikes eating in restaurants and izakayas were often small and crowded.
“I’ll go,” Kiyoomi finds himself saying. Bokuto whoops, whirling around to run back across the gym to where Hinata is, presumably to relay what just happens, even if it’s more than likely that everyone in the gym has already heard.
“That’s some new development, Omi-kun.” Kiyoomi hears Atsumu’s drawl as he picks up a volleyball from the cart. Kiyoomi doesn’t reply immediately, instead choosing to take a volleyball to spin it between his palms.
“Is it?” Kiyoomi asks. Atsumu nods, before he tilts his head to the side. The action reminds Kiyoomi of Motoya’s Shiba Inu. “Nothing too new from you, I see.” Atsumu frowns.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Avoiding the question, or answering indirectly whenever anyone asks about your apartment.” Kiyoomi replies, bouncing the ball a couple of times before he walks back over to the court. He sees Atsumu grab a volleyball and stumble to follow.
“Maybe I have my own reasons,” Atsumu argues.
“Perhaps,” Kiyoomi hums, tossing the ball up high before he takes a couple of steps forward to serve it over the net. On the other side, Hinata drops both the conversation with Bokuto and the ball he’s holding to dive to receive it. Hinata gets his arms beneath it, but it’s not enough to pop it back over the net. Hinata shoots Kiyoomi a thumbs up.
“Your serve is a lot stronger than last week, Omi-san!”
“Thanks,” Kiyoomi’s eyes flicker to Atsumu, who’s staring back at him with a challenge glowing in his eyes.
“Atsumu-san, give me your best serve!” Hinata calls, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Atsumu nods, bouncing the volleyball a couple of times before tossing it up into the air. He takes four steps forward before serving the ball with a satisfying noise. Hinata nearly gets the serve, but it curves at the last minute, painting the line. Atsumu cheers. “Uwahh! Your jump floater is so cool!”
“Of course it is, I’ve been practicing!” Atsumu grins, his chest puffed out proudly, and Kiyoomi thinks that if Atsumu had a tail, it would be wagging. A playful bump to the arm has Kiyoomi looking up from where he was frowning at the floor. Atsumu holds another volleyball in one hand, arm extended as a sharp and fox-like grin tugs at his lips. “Let’s have a little competition, Omi-Omi.”
“I told you not to call me that,” Kiyoomi scowls as he turns towards the net. He sees Atsumu’s grin widen as he takes a couple of steps, tossing the volleyball into the air before he serves it over the net.
“Hey, Omi! Wait up!” Kiyoomi’s tempted to pick up his pace, but he sighs and slows his steps instead, waiting for that familiar — and warm — presence of Atsumu to appear beside him. He can hear their teammates’ voices behind them, and looks over his shoulder to see them heading in the opposite direction. When Kiyoomi turns back around, he’s surprised to see that Atsumu has his hood pulled over his head; in the cusp end of summer.
Even Kiyoomi, hypersensitive to the temperature outside, is wearing short sleeves on the walk home. Atsumu’s hair beneath the fabric looks a bit lumpier than normal, but before he can say anything, Atsumu speaks up.
“Did ya know that Bokkun came out as a shifter yesterday?”
Kiyoomi did not know, but he finds that he isn’t surprised.
“Good for him,” Kiyoomi says instead. “It takes a lot of courage to come out publicly as a shifter, especially if you’re a well known athlete.” Kiyoomi sees Atsumu’s brow furrow, his lips turning down into a slight frown. He waits a few moments before he prods. “What do you think?”
“Huh?” Atsumu’s head snaps up, the hood nearly slipping down and his hand comes up to catch it with lightning speed, tugging it down towards his forehead. Kiyoomi swears he sees something move beneath the fabric. Interesting. “About Bokkun?” Kiyoomi nods, and Atsumu scrunches his nose up contemplatively. “I mean, good fer him, but won’t people give him hell for it? Ya know, saying that it’s an unfair advantage to have a shifter on our team?”
“The world isn’t fair,” Kiyoomi drawls. “Ushijima from the Schweiden Adlers is an eagle shifter, if you didn’t know.”
“Ushijima-san is a what ?”
“An eagle shifter.”
“I heard ya the first time!” Atsumu throws his hands up in the air.
“Hoshiumi is also a shifter, and we’ve beaten them more than once,” Kiyoomi points out, “even though we only have one shifter on the team.” Atsumu shifts on his feet, before he huffs out a frustrated sigh and yanks his hood down. Kiyoomi’s eyes flicker up to see a head of fluffy blonde hair. “Why do you ask?”
“Hm?”
“You never seem very keen on talking about shifters, especially with groups of people.” Kiyoomi shrugs. “It’s been that way since the Tokyo training camp back in high school.”
“Have ya been keepin’ an eye on me, Omi-kun?” At Kiyoomi’s unimpressed stare, Atsumu chuckles nervously. “Just proud of Bokkun, I guess.” Kiyoomi’s noncommittal hum seems to unnerve Atsumu.
They walk in silence until they reach Kiyoomi’s apartment complex. Atsumu lingers outside of the gate, watching Kiyoomi walk up to the main doors, scanning his keycard before punching in the code. Before Kiyoomi can bid Atsumu a good night, the latter calls out to him.
“Omi?”
“Yes?” Kiyoomi turns around to see that Atsumu’s tugged the hood back over his head, leaning against the stone wall, his lower body hidden from view.
“If I… ever told ya something that I haven’t told anyone else and asked ya to keep it a secret, would ya?” Kiyoomi furrows his brow. Atsumu’s chewing on his lower lip.
“You’re making this seem obscure.” Kiyoomi finally says. Atsumu pouts.
“I’m not trying to.” Atsumu whines. “Answer the question, Omi.”
“If you trust me with a secret, I’d hope you also trust that I wouldn’t go tell everyone I know about it.” Atsumu doesn’t respond, fidgeting instead. Kiyoomi’s never seen Atsumu this skittish. He sighs heavily. “I won’t tell anyone.” Atsumu visibly relaxes, and he shoots Kiyoomi a weak smile.
“Thanks, Omi.” Atsumu straightens, and lifts a hand to wave. “G’night, I’ll see ya on Monday.” Kiyoomi watches as Atsumu practically scampers down the street, and he swears that he catches a glimpse of a tail just before Atsumu disappears from view.
Kiyoomi is walking back from a long workout at the gym when he spots a familiar head of blonde hair outside of a children’s daycare just up ahead. His brow furrows and he glances at his phone to check the time. It’s seven thirty-four in the evening. What the hell is Atsumu doing at this time in front of a children’s daycare?
“Atsumu?” Kiyoomi’s curiosity is strong enough to make him call out, though his voice is somewhat muffled by his usual mask. He sees Atsumu’s shoulders go stiff before he whirls around, an almost panicked and fearful grin stretching at his lips.
“Omi-Omi! What’re you doin’ here?” Atsumu’s voice is higher than usual.
“I could ask you the same thing.” Kiyoomi replies evenly. “I’m coming back from the gym. What're you-”
“Papa!” Before Kiyoomi can finish his question, a young girl with shoulder length dark brown hair comes running up to them. Anything that Kiyoomi’s planning to say falls flat. He stares at the little girl, who stares right back up at him. Her eyes are a hazel, a little lighter than Atsumu’s. Then, she yelps and runs to hide behind Atsumu’s legs, peering up at Kiyoomi with wide eyes. “Papa, who’s that?”
“Miya.” Atsumu tenses. “You have a kid?” Atsumu sighs, raking a hand through his hair. There’s a flush riding high on his cheeks, and he shuffles on his feet, bending down to pick up the girl to rest her on his hip. He’s quiet for a few moments, rocking back and forth to shift his weight from foot to foot.
“I do.” Atsumu finally says, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s cheek. “Yuki, this is Sakusa.” Atsumu glances up at Kiyoomi, looking a little embarrassed and a little shy. “She’s five.”
Five.
So that means Atsumu had Yuki when he was eighteen.
Kiyoomi’s head is reeling.
“How was today, sweetheart?” Atsumu asks. His tone is so soft and tender — completely foreign to the tone that Kiyoomi has gotten used to.
“It was okay,” Yuki mumbles, hiding her face in her father’s neck.
“She’s shy,” Atsumu explains, gently bouncing her up and down. He still refuses to look Kiyoomi in the eye.
“Papa, is this yer Omi-kun?” Kiyoomi blinks when he hears Yuki speaking in a stage whisper. Her head is lowered, as if she was trying to whisper in Atsumu’s ear. She speaks in the same Kansai-ben Atsumu speaks in. Atsumu’s cheeks go a little red at Yuki’s question. Kiyoomi, for the sake of Atsumu’s ego and dignity, doesn’t react.
“Yes, but now is not the time, Yuki.” Atsumu reprimands her gently. Yuki pouts, and Atsumu glances back up at Kiyoomi, obviously still flustered. “Er… if ya want, I can explain over a late dinner? Yuki ‘n I were planning to go to our favorite ramen shop. You’re more than welcome to join us since… well… now ya know.”
Kiyoomi briefly remembers the questions that Atsumu had asked him a couple weeks ago about keeping a secret. He figures that this is it.
“Papa, does he know the thing?” Yuki asks, voice hushed. Atsumu hesitates, eyes flickering up to Kiyoomi and then back to his daughter. Yuki’s lips part in a small oh shape. “Oopsie.” Kiyoomi decides that he won’t press Atsumu for any answers.
“If you’re both okay with me suddenly joining you for ramen. If not, then that’s perfectly fine. Atsumu and I can meet up some other time.” Kiyoomi offers. Yuki perks up in Atsumu’s arm, and there’s a sudden mischievous glitter to her eyes that is all too familiar to Kiyoomi.
“I wanna know Omi.”
Kiyoomi arches a brow at Atsumu, who looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole.
“I’d prefer this to be done now while I still have adrenaline running through my body,” Atsumu admits.
“Lead the way, then.” Kiyoomi nods. Atsumu runs a shaking hand through his hair and exhales heavily before he gestures with his head for Kiyoomi to follow him.
The ramen shop is small and quaint, and Kiyoomi’s pleased when their table and booth is wiped down when they arrive. Yuki clambers into one of the booths first, and Atsumu slides in after her. Kiyoomi sits across from them, setting his gym bag down next to him. He tugs his mask off, before resting his chin on his hands.
Atsumu rummages through a small bag he’d brought — Kiyoomi hadn’t noticed it until now — and pulls out a book, which he hands to Yuki. She snatches it up eagerly and is immersed within seconds. A waiter comes by and they get two glasses of barley water and an aloe juice, two appetizers of gyoza and three shoyu ramen — one of which is a kiddie size.
“Don’t force yourself to tell me anything,” Kiyoomi says as soon as the waiter is gone. “I’m curious, but I won’t push you for anything.” Atsumu gives him a shaky smile.
“It’s fine. It’s just… well, I wasn’t plannin’ on ya finding out like this.” Atsumu scratches the back of his neck. “You’re sharp, Omi-kun. You’ve picked up on the things that I avoid talking about, and I do it mostly because I’m afraid of the judgement of other people, even if Samu says I’m stupid for it.”
“You have every right to feel what you feel, Atsumu, whether you have a kid or you don’t.” Kiyoomi’s brow furrows. Atsumu chuckles, sinking back into the booth.
“It’s just the way I am,” Atsumu shrugs. He glances down at Yuki, who’s humming happily. Kiyoomi can feel the barest brush of her feet as she kicks them back and forth. “Yuki was… well, unexpected. My girlfriend and I got stupidly drunk one night at a party and…” Atsumu trails off. “Well, Yuki happened. We were both eighteen. She didn’t want the child; her parents threatened to kick her out of the house. Even though I knew I was probably too young to take care of a kid, I had a kid, and that was… well, amazing.”
There’s a soft smile on Atsumu’s face as he gazes at Yuki. As if sensing her father’s eyes, Yuki looks up from the book to give Atsumu a toothy grin, reaching up to poke him in the cheek.
“I talked with my girlfriend over the course of a few weeks. She told me that she would give birth to the child only if I promised to take care of her. Ma and Pa managed to convince her parents that if I took care of the kid, then she wouldn’t get kicked out.” Atsumu tilts his head back to let out a dry laugh. “It didn’t matter in the end. She died while giving birth to Yuki.”
Kiyoomi feels his throat constrict. He reaches out, hesitating briefly before letting his fingers touch the back of Atsumu’s hands, lying limp on the table. Atsumu jolts.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Kiyoomi says as genuinely as possible. Atsumu’s eyes soften.
“Thanks, Omi.” Atsumu’s smile is a little wobbly. “I know ya mean it… which is why I trust ya the most with this.” Kiyoomi brushes his thumb over Atsumu’s hand before retracting his hands. The waiter returns, sliding the three bowls of ramen on the table along with the two rectangular plates of gyoza. They thank the waiter, who bows briefly before hurrying off.
Yuki puts down the book, and grabs for the disposable chopsticks on the table. Kiyoomi watches, somewhat amazed as Atsumu tells Yuki to be patient and wait for the soup to cool down as he breaks apart the chopsticks and hands them to his daughter.
“Yuki!” Atsumu scolds when his daughter stabs a single chopstick through a gyoza, stuffing the entire thing into her mouth. Yuki blinks up at him, cheeks puffed out and Kiyoomi can’t help but chuckle. Atsumu’s head whips around to stare at him, eyes wide.
“She’s adorable,” Kiyoomi tells him. “Her eagerness for food definitely comes from you.” Atsumu blushes at that, and the chopsticks in his hands suddenly seem to become the most interesting thing to stare at. Kiyoomi breaks apart his own chopsticks to start eating.
“Ow! Papa, it’s hot,” Yuki whimpers, and Kiyoomi nearly drops his chopsticks when he looks back up. There, atop of Yuki’s head, are two fuzzy red fox ears. There are tears in Yuki’s eyes and she clasps a hand to her mouth.
“I told ya to wait, Yuki,” Atsumu sighs, taking a napkin to dab at her eyes. “You know that your tongue is sensitive to the heat.” Atsumu ruffles Yuki’s head, before he freezes, eyes flickering to a stunned Kiyoomi. “Ah… I knew there was something I forgot to say.”
Kiyoomi shakes his head, and inhales deeply. He had suspected this for the past few years, but actually seeing it before him… Kiyoomi takes a few bites of hot noodles and broth in an attempt to gather his thoughts. Atsumu fiddles with his own, seemingly too nervous to eat. Yuki doesn’t seem too bothered, blowing aggressively on her soup spoon before she pops it into her mouth.
“I suspected you were a shifter,” Kiyoomi says, setting his chopsticks down atop his bowl. Atsumu nods, grimacing.
“I thought so,” Atsumu sighs. “You kinda scared me when I asked ‘bout Bokkun.”
“Was it you subliminally trying to cue me into you being a shifter?” Kiyoomi asks, picking up his chopsticks again. Atsumu follows his lead, and bends down to take a few mouthfuls of ramen.
“Yeah,” Atsumu admits as he swallows his mouthful. “But I guess ya already knew and I only confirmed those suspicions.”
“I didn’t want to make assumptions,” Kiyoomi shrugs, slurping up another mouthful of noodles. Yuki looks content, her bowl of noodles are almost gone, and she’s already cleared a plate of gyoza. They’re quiet for a bit as they eat while the soup is still hot, and Kiyoomi setting his chopsticks carefully atop of his empty bowl has Atsumu’s shoulders jumping.
“Papa doesn’t want people to think he’s weird,” Yuki speaks up, and Kiyoomi turns his attention to the young girl. Atsumu makes a muffled noise of protest through a mouthful of food, and Yuki slaps his upper arm. “No talking with food in your mouth!” Kiyoomi chuckles. Yuki stares back up at Kiyoomi, her fox ears no longer visible. “Papa says that not everyone likes shifters, and so we hafta be careful who we tell.”
“It’s not like I’m not ashamed of who we are,” Atsumu says, licking his lips as he pushes his empty bowl to the side. “I’m just… well, nervous.”
“The team won’t think of you any differently,” Kiyoomi points out. “Even if you’re a shifter, and even if you’re a single parent.” Atsumu frowns, ducking his head to rub at the back of his neck. “I don’t think my perspective on you will change. You’re still obnoxious and self-absorbed at times, you’re brash and demanding, and you have ridiculously high standards for yourself and everyone else.” Atsumu’s jaw has dropped open. There’s a warm feeling in Kiyoomi’s chest.
“Wait a second Omi, is that really necessary-” Atsumu starts, but Kiyoomi cuts him off.
“But you’re also kind and thoughtful, and you watch out for your teammates,” Kiyoomi continues. “Being able to take care of a kid by yourself while you’re a professional athlete is an admirable trait as well.” Atsumu’s cheeks are flushed, and to Kiyoomi’s surprise, there’s a pair of fuzzy fox ears atop of Atsumu’s head.
“Our ears show up when we get surprised,” Yuki explains, pointing to Atsumu’s ears. Much to Kiyoomi’s amusement, the flush spreads to Atsumu’s ear tips. “Or… um… amber-est.” Yuki tilts her head, scrunching her nose up.
“Embarrassed?” Kiyoomi offers, and Yuki nods vigorously.
“That!” Yuki tilts her head to look up at Atsumu “Papa, why are ya so red?” Atsumu doesn’t respond right away, and reaches for his glass of barley water, gulping down half of it in one go. Kiyoomi feels that warm feeling spreading to his fingertips.
“It’s nothing, Yuki,” Atsumu says, pressing a palm to his cheek, the other hand tugging at his hood to pull it over his head to cover his fox ears.
When the waiter comes back to their table, Kiyoomi slides over his credit card. Atsumu starts to protest, but Kiyoomi kicks his leg beneath the table. The blonde flinches, sinking down into the booth to sulk.
“Thank you, Omi!” Yuki beams at Kiyoomi, before she wriggles to get comfortable, sticking her nose back into her book. Kiyoomi arches a brow at Atsumu.
“I thought you said she was shy?” Kiyoomi asks, his voice low. Atsumu sighs, shoulders falling.
“She is,” he says, glancing at Yuki. “I’m not sure why she’s suddenly so talkative.” Kiyoomi watches as the two lumps beneath Atsumu’s hood twitch. “Thanks for the dinner, Omi-Omi.”
“Thanks for trusting me with all of… well, this.” Kiyoomi gestures towards Atsumu’s ears and Yuki. Atsumu smiles wryly in response.
“It was about time,” he sighs. Atsumu ruffles Yuki’s hair gently. “Are you tired, sweetheart?” Yuki blinks up at him.
“No,” Yuki replies, yawning. Atsumu chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.
“You seem pretty tired to me,” he teases. Yuki squeals as Atsumu blows a raspberry to her cheek, batting him away. When the waiter returns, he hands Kiyoomi back his credit card aad bids them a good evening. When Atsumu glances back at Kiyoomi, he waves them off.
“Go ahead, I won’t keep you any longer.” Kiyoomi nods at them.
“Will Omi walk with Papa and me?” Yuki asks.
“We do walk in the same direction,” Atsumu adds. A wry smile tugs at Kiyoomi’s lips.
“Alright, then. Are we ready to go?” Yuki nods, and hands her book back to Atsumu, who takes it and places it back into his backpack. When Atsumu slides out of the booth, Kiyoomi sees a flash of a russet fox tail before it disappears from sight.
The walk home is fairly quiet. Yuki somehow convinces Kiyoomi to give her a piggyback ride, so Atsumu carries Kiyoomi’s gym bag as Yuki snoozes on a broad shoulder. Kiyoomi feels Atsumu’s eyes on him every now and then, and he isn’t sure if Atsumu’s trying to gauge his feelings from what he learned tonight, if he’s looking at Yuki, or both.
“You’re staring,” Kiyoomi says, breaking the silence. He sees Atsumu blush from his peripheral vision, reaching up to cover his head with his hands. “Don’t hide, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi frowns, slowing his gait.
“It’s embarrassin’,” Atsumu huffs, but he lets his hands drop anyway. Beneath the moonlight, Atsumu looks almost ethereal.
Ah.
Motoya might be right.
When they reach Kiyoomi’s apartment complex, Kiyoomi carefully rouses Yuki, murmuring a soft apology as he sets her down on her feet. He takes his bag back from Atsumu with a soft thanks, and Yuki mumbles out a goodnight before she lifts her arms for Atsumu to pick her up.
“Good night, Omi.” Atsumu says, shuffling on his feet. His fox ears are curled forward, and his tail swishes behind him. “Thanks fer listening.”
“I’m always willing to lend an ear,” Kiyoomi shrugs. “I might not seem like the type of person, but I’m here if you need help.” He sees Atsumu’s eyes well up, and the setter nods his head, ears flicking back and forth.
“Thanks, Omi.” Neither comment on the crack in Atsumu’s voice.
“Sleep well, Atsumu. You too, Yuki.” Kiyoomi turns to unlock the main door, glancing over his shoulder to wave once again before he steps inside.
That one night with Atsumu and Yuki turns into two nights, then to five, and then twice a week. That warm feeling is a constant for Kiyoomi now, and he’s finally accepted the thought that he might have a crush on Atsumu. Motoya shouts an I knew it the moment Kiyoomi brings the topic up in conversation. Motoya crows that he’s already heard from Suna, who heard from Atsumu who was freaking out about Kiyoomi becoming friendlier and more open towards him.
Kiyoomi knows not to be offended.
Even MSBY has noticed that their sharp barbs and retorts have flowed into something akin to friendly banter, and dare Kiyoomi even say flirting. He’s pretty sure that they’ve started some sort of betting pool.
Kiyoomi enjoys spending time with Yuki and Atsumu, and he finds that it’s hard not to fall in love with them both over the span of four months. He gets to see a whole different side to Atsumu; shy, fiercely protective and almost motherly. Yuki’s become a lot more comfortable around Kiyoomi, and Kiyoomi feels familiar enough with Yuki that he lets her crawl into his lap whenever they eat take out on either his apartment floor or Atsumu’s.
When Atsumu and Yuki come over to Kiyoomi’s apartment that night for Yuki’s sixth birthday, they bring ingredients to make onigiri. Yuki greets Kiyoomi with a squeal, and Kiyoomi lets out a soft chuckle, scooping Yuki up to twirl her around.
“Who’s birthday is it today?” Kiyoomi smiles when he sets her down.
“Me!” Yuki beams, reaching up to poke at both of Kiyoomi’s cheeks. “Omi is pretty when he smiles.”
“You’re very pretty when you smile,” Kiyoomi pinches Yuki’s nose playfully. He looks up to greet Atsumu with a soft smile. “Hey, Atsumu.” Atsumu’s returning smile wobbles, and Kiyoomi feels his brow furrow. “Hey, Yuki?” The little girl looks up at him. “Can you bring the onigiri stuff to the kitchen? I need to talk with Atsumu.”
“Is Papa okaya?” Yuki asks, brow furrowing.
“Everything’s just fine, Snowflake,” Kiyoomi presses a brief kiss to Yuki’s forehead, and the little girl snatches the cloth bag up off the floor and drags it to the kitchen. Kiyoomi stands, and gently pulls Atsumu in through the door. “Hey,” he frowns. “What’s wrong?”
Tears spill over in Atsumu’s eyes, and the blonde buries his face in Kiyoomi’s chest. Kiyoomi feels his shoulders tense briefly, before he relaxes, heart thundering in his chest as he pulls Atsumu in close. He feels something soft and warm brush his throat, and when he looks down Atsumu’s back, he sees the gorgeous red fox tail curled around one leg.
“It’s just that… it’s always just been Yuki and I. Sure, there’s Samu and Suna, but they’re always busy with their own stuff so their visits are rare. For Yuki to have someone else to spend time with that’s not just me is amazing, and I know she can be a lot, but you’ve been so patient, and I can’t thank you enough, and-”
“Woah, woah, Atsumu, hey…” Kiyoomi hushes, tucking Atsumu’s head in the crook of his neck, stroking the back of his head gently. Atsumu hiccups against his shoulder, arms tightening around Kiyoomi’s waist.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” Atsumu mumbles through a watery sob.
“Yuki’s this amazing because she has someone like you for a father,” Kiyoomi says, resting his chin on the crown of Atsumu’s head. Atsumu’s quiet for a few moments shoulders still shaking as his fingers curl into the fabric of Kiyoomi’s shirt.
“Did you know that Yuki sometimes calls you ‘Papa Omi’?” Atsumu asks, voice thick.
“I did not,” Kiyoomi chuckles. But it partially explains why Yuki had tugged on his sleeve the other night and asked Kiyoomi if he could be her second Papa when Atsumu was grabbing their to-go order. “You’re a damn strong man, Atsumu. Don’t let others tell you otherwise.” Kiyoomi’s thumb brushes against Atsumu’s fox ears, and the blonde shivers, nuzzling against Kiyoomi’s shoulder once before he pulls back, wiping at his face. “Go ahead and splash your face with some water. I’ll get started with the prep work.”
“Thank you, Omi.” Atsumu murmurs. Even with red and swollen eyes, tear streaked cheeks and a chapped and bitten lower lip, Atsumu’s gorgeous. Kiyoomi lets his gaze linger before he turns to call for Yuki.
“Is Papa okay?” Yuki asks, climbing onto the step stool Kiyoomi pulls out.
“He’s fine,” Kiyoomi reassures her. “Atsumu’s just… well, happy that you’re happy.”
“Well, Omi makes Papa happy, so I’m happy.” Yuki says proudly.
“You’re much too smart for a six year old,” Kiyoomi taps her on the nose, and Yuki giggles. Her fox ears and tail are on display; both she and Atsumu have gotten more comfortable letting their features out when he’s around in the comfort of their own home — or in Kiyoomi’s apartment.
The rice has just started cooking when Atsumu emerges from the bathroom. His eyes are still a little red rimmed, but he looks better. Atsumu gives them a tired smile as he slides into a stool at the island.
“Is there something I can do?” Atsumu asks. Yuki shakes her head.
“Omi and I already mixed the stuff!” Yuki points to the several small bowls with the different fillings: tuna fish mixed with spring onion, mayo and some soy sauce, umeboshi, tamagoyaki pieces and the okaka and kombu fillings that Kiyoomi had prepared earlier in the day.
“We just need the rice to be finished,” Kiyoomi says, helping Yuki down from the step stool. “If you want, you can help me prepare the miso soup.” Atsumu nods, and walks around the counter, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s cheek before she goes running off into the living room.
“Omi-Omi! Can I watch TV?” Yuki shouts.
“Go ahead, Snowflake,” Kiyoomi calls. Yuki cheers, and Atsumu rolls his eyes, bumping Kiyoomi with his hip.
“Thank you, Omi. Seriously.” Atsumu smiles, and Kiyoomi catches a peek of two sharp incisors poking out from behind Atsumu’s top lip. His fox ears and tail are happily twitching as they gather the ingredients for the miso, and Kiyoomi’s overcome with the sudden urge to kiss him. He ignores it, and instead helps Atsumu chop up the vegetables and tofu, setting a pot on the stove to start the dashi stock.
Soon, the miso soup is simmering and the rice is cool enough to the touch. Kiyoomi and Atsumu take turns helping Yuki to shape and fill her onigiri, and they soon have a miniature feast before them. Kiyoomi will never get over the sight of seeing a tiny six year old girl pack away almost as much food as Atsumu does without a single problem. Despite both Kiyoomi and Atsumu warning Yuki that the miso is hot, she still burns her tongue.
When Atsumu offers to help clean up, Kiyoomi shakes his head. When he dips his head to tell Atsumu to go grab the present for Yuki from its hiding place in a low voice, Kiyoomi’s amused to see Atsumu’s cheeks flush, tail tucking between his legs. Atsumu practically scurries out of the kitchenette, ears red.
About fifteen minutes later, the three of them are sitting in Kiyoomi’s living room at a kotatsu table that was dragged out from a closet. There’s a small strawberry cake in the center, decorated with white frosting and glossy, seedless strawberries. Kiyoomi had carefully placed six candles in the cake while Atsumu brewed some green tea and prepared hot chocolate for Yuki.
When they sing happy birthday, Yuki is sitting on Atsumu’s lap, who in turn is next to Kiyoomi, their shoulders brushing. Atsumu’s ears are a little pink, and Kiyoomi briefly wonders what his face looks like. Atsumu’s tail brushes up against Kiyoomi’s hand where it lays braced against the floor to keep him upright. It’s soft and ticklish, and Kiyoomi has to resist the urge to run his hand through the pretty fur.
“Yuki, do you want to open presents now?” Atsumu asks, nudging his daughter. Yuki looks up from where she’s stabbing at her second piece of cake with a wide grin on her face.
“Yes!” Yuki claps excitedly. Kiyoomi reaches across the kotatsu to pick up the three wrapped presents as Atsumu awkwardly clears the table, movement restricted by Yuki. The first present she unwraps is a new silver fox plushie, and she hugs it tightly to her chest. “I’m gonna name it Omi!” Yuki declares, turning to look at Kiyoomi with a big smile on her face. “Doesn’t it look like you, Omi?”
“I suppose it does,” Kiyoomi agrees, reaching out to brush his fingers through the faux fur. It’s soft.
“Thank you, Papa!” Yuki smacks a kiss to Atsumu’s cheek. Atsumu smiles, kissing her forehead. Yuki carefully sets the fox plushie to the side to open the next present. This one consists of the first three books of a newly released series, courtesy of Kiyoomi, and a couple of keychains, courtesy of Atsumu.
“This is from both Omi and I,” Atsumu says, resting his chin on Yuki’s shoulder. His fox ears twitch, and Kiyoomi feels the brush of Atsumu’s tail against his arm.
“They’re so pretty!” Yuki holds up the keychains, and then the new hardcover books, nearly dropping one on her face as she does so. “Thank you, Omi! Thank you, Papa!” The last present is rather large, and Yuki stares at it with wide eyes. “It’s so big!”
“A big present for a big girl,” Kiyoomi reminds her, nudging her playfully. Yuki bows her head shyly at that, and giggles when Kiyoomi pokes her cheek. “Go ahead and open it.”
Without further ado, Yuki tears into the wrapping paper, letting out a cry of joy when she uncovers the gift. Atsumu gasps, and whips his head around to stare at Kiyoomi.
It’s a very expensive coloring book, one that Yuki had once mentioned in passing as an offhand remark. There’s also a set of high quality coloring pencils, including watercolor pencils.
“Omi remembered! Omi is the best, thank you!” Yuki squeals, squirming out of Atsumu’s lap to fling herself at Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi chuckles as he catches her flailing body, letting her press a kiss to his cheek.
“I’m glad you like it.” Kiyoomi ruffles Yuki’s head, and those fox ears prick up eagerly.
“Omi-kun, this is insanely expensive,” Atsumu hisses, tugging on his sleeve. Yuki’s immersed in flipping through the pages, cooing over the pretty pictures she’ll get to color in.
“I wanted to buy it,” Kiyoomi replies, eyes lingering on Yuki before he turns to look at Atsumu, who looks conflicted. He sighs. “Hey, princess?” Yuki looks up at Kiyoomi, the wide grin still plastered onto her face. “I’m gonna go talk with Atsumu for a little bit, is that okay?”
“Yep!” Yuki nods vigorously and clambers out of Kiyoomi’s lap, continuing to flip through the new coloring book. Kiyoomi stands and offers a hand to Atsumu, who takes it hesitantly.
“Omi,” Atsumu starts as Kiyoomi pulls them into the hallway. Kiyoomi lifts a hand and Atsumu falls quiet.
“It’s something that I’ve wanted to do for a while now.” Kiyoomi starts. “I want to thank you, Atsumu, for trusting me with knowing about your daughter, and that you’re both shifters. I’ve been feeling a lot… well, happier since I’ve started spending time with you and Yuki, and I’m pretty sure everyone else has noticed the slight change in my demeanor.”
“You are a lot more approachable, Omi-kun,” Atsumu’s smile is shaky again.
“Yuki knows how to stay clean,” Kiyoomi shrugs, “I care about you, Atsumu.” Atsumu’s breath hitches, and he stares up at Kiyoomi with wide eyes. “I care about Yuki, too. I know that you’ve struggled raising her, but I hope you know that I’m someone you can trust if something ever happens to you or Yuki. I want to be able to spoil Yuki, she deserves that much.”
Atsumu’s eyes are watery again, and Kiyoomi huffs out a soft laugh and offers his arms. Atsumu tucks his face into his chest again, and he shudders on his next exhale.
“Thanks, Omi. I can’t say it enough.” Atsumu mumbles. Kiyoomi hums, pulling back to cup Atsumu’s face, thumbs brushing away the tears gathering in his eyes. “Omi-” Atsumu’s voice cracks, and Kiyoomi tilts his head down to press a kiss to Atsumu’s forehead.
“You don’t need to thank me,” Kiyoomi tells him, firmly.
“But I do,” Atsumu protests weakly. His cheeks are pink. When Kiyoomi runs his thumb over one of Atsumu’s ears, the blonde squeaks, tail flicking upright in alarm. Kiyoomi pauses, but Atsumu nuzzles into his palm. “It’s okay.” Atsumu mumbles. Kiyoomi repeats the action, and Atsumu sighs, content. “Hey, Omi?”
“Yeah?”
“I hope I’m not reading the room incorrectly… but if I said that I liked ya, would ya say it back?” Atsumu peers up at him with wide and doe-like eyes, and Kiyoomi feels his heart skip a beat.
“I don’t know,” Kiyoomi replies. Atsumu’s jaw drops open, but before he can backpedal, Kiyoomi flashes him a smirk. “You haven’t told me anything yet.” Atsumu flushes, thumping his forehead against Kiyoomi’s chest.
“Yer a fuckin’ asshole.” Atsumu grumbles.
“Yuki’s here,” Kiyoomi reminds him. He flinches when Atsumu pinches his side. “So?” Kiyoomi prompts, unable to clamp down on the grin tugging at his lips. Atsumu huffs, and pulls back, fox ears at half mast as his tail flicks back and forth between his legs.
“I like ya, Omi. I like ya a lot.” Atsumu says, golden eyes bright and earnest. Kiyoomi reaches out to stroke his thumb against a cheekbone. He hears Atsumu’s breath hitch as Kiyoomi pulls him close, wrapping one arm around a trim waist to bring their lips together.
“I like you too, Atsumu. I think I have for a long time.” Kiyoomi murmurs, and Atsumu lets out a choked sob. Kiyoomi can taste Atsumu’s tears in their kiss, and pulls back to kiss each of Atsumu’s eyelids. “Shall we get back to Yuki before she starts to worry?” Atsumu nods, and this time, their fingers laced are together when they walk back out into the living room.
“Papa! Why are you crying?” Yuki demands as soon as she catches sight of Atsumu.
“They’re happy tears,” Atsumu assures her, and Yuki tilts her head, staring at her father, before her eyes fall to their interlaced hands.
“Oh! Is Papa with Omi now? Can I call Omi Papa too?” Yuki scrambles to her feet to run over to them. Kiyoomi lets their hands drop to catch Yuki, hitching her up onto his hip, sliding his other arm around Atsumu’s waist to draw him close.
“You can call me whatever you want,” Kiyoomi says, and Yuki cheers, kissing Kiyoomi on the cheek. Atsumu stares up at them with a smile on his face, and when Kiyoomi dips his head, Atsumu leans up to meet his lips. Kiyoomi feels a cheeky swipe of a tongue and a nip of sharp incisors against his mouth, and slips two warning fingers beneath Atsumu’s shirt, pinching him playfully. Atsumu yelps and pulls back, lips drawn down into a pout.
“Omi,” Atsumu whines.
“You know what you did,” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes.
“I’m happy,” Yuki says, drawing both of the athlete’s attention to her. She has the biggest grin on her face. “I might not have a Mama, but I can have two Papas. This is the best birthday present ever!” Kiyoomi feels a surge of emotion welling up in his chest, and he presses a kiss to Yuki’s cheek. Atsumu comes around to press a kiss to the other.
As Yuki giggles, wrapping her arms around both of Atsumu’s and Kiyoomi’s shoulders to pull them close, Kiyoomi thinks that he could spend the rest of his life like this. Atsumu smiles up at Kiyoomi, happiness written clear on his face as he leans back around Yuki to kiss Kiyoomi on the cheek.
“Thank you, Omi.” Kiyoomi smiles in response, running his hand through soft blonde hair, hearing the way Atsumu makes a contented purring noise in his throat. Standing in the middle of his living room with Atsumu and Yuki in his arms, Kiyoomi finds that this is the happiest he’s been in a long time.
Kiyoomi wouldn’t change it for the world.