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It was no surprise that Tobio was painfully awkward at first. Atsumu seemed to be Tobio's first everything, and sex had been no different. Also to no one's surprise, the man was athletic as hell and his hands were as nimble off-court as on. It didn't take long until evenings left Atsumu breathless and sweaty, a satisfied grin lingering on his face as he drifted off to black sleep next to his partner.
Things were good. Things were good, yet, now that the novelty had worn off a bit, Atsumu was starting to notice something missing. He'd expected to take the initiative most of the time, sure, but there was something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. All of Atsumu's previous flings, even the awful ones, had had a certain fire to them, a pull to Atsumu's push, and a—a linger, something he couldn't describe yet.
It was only an occasional feeling, a doubt that filled the moment before a kiss was returned, that flickered in when Tobio's gaze strayed, a stupid insecurity that wormed into his brain when Tobio's body was turned to the ceiling rather than him.
Atsumu couldn't tell whether that doubt softened the blow that night or magnified it. He and Tobio had spent the evening watching and analyzing some recorded matches, their legs tangled on the couch. Little by little, Atsumu became acutely aware of every shift in Tobio's position and every brush of the skin, and soon every fiber of his being waited for the next press against his body. Waiting turned into searching, and then Atsumu was on his partner, his hands roaming under the man's black shirt and along firm muscles, his lips along that long neck that smelled of night air.
Tobio's question sprung out of nowhere and was utterly dispassionate. "Don't you want to do something else?"
Atsumu froze. His hand slipped from the man's torso and he pulled back. Tobio didn't look annoyed, which would have been easier to deal with than the other things Tobio wasn't: he wasn't flustered, or bothered—he didn't seem to have any reaction to Atsumu's ministrations at all, even though Atsumu was about to burst.
"... What's with that?"
Blind to the room as usual, Tobio continued. "There's better forms of exercise."
Something snapped, and Atsumu turned to stone. All those small gestures or lack of them that he'd noticed before came hurtling back into his brain. "...Is this all it is to you? Exercise?"
Now confusion flitted on Tobio's features. Atsumu moved his legs off the couch and sat, arms slung on the tops of his thighs, trying to calm a body that said no it didn't want to do something else. His shorts remained uncomfortably tight.
It wasn't that Atsumu had never had a partner who wasn't in the mood—hell, he'd had days where he wasn't, too. But something about Tobio and his nonreactions made him ask, "Tobio. Have ya... ever wanted to do this?"
"It's okay," Tobio said. Rare concern edged his reply. "Maybe it's not on my mind, like the way other people talk about it, but it's okay. I don't mind it. I just thought... S-sorry, we can do it if you want."
Atsumu felt that line physically stab him. He shot to his feet. "Kageyama Tobio! I'm not some pathetic sop that needs to grab any fucks someone's willing to spare!"
Briefly the state of his shorts distracted him, and Atsumu sat back down just as abruptly as before and no less angry. "I don't want to do it if you don't want to. How shitty do you think I am? Do you think I need a charity fuck? Have you thought that way every time we do it? Just, 'oh Atsumu needs to be humored again'?"
Tobio had retreated against the couch in surprise. "N-no. I just...it's a thing to do. We've just been doing it a lot."
"Just a thing to do, huh? So ya don't care who it's with? Why don't we just have people raise their hand and you can go help fuck them too?"
"What are you talking about?!"
Atsumu willed himself to calm down, even if he still felt the sting of Tobio's thoughtless offer. He knew Tobio wasn't someone who ever went along with something he didn't want without protest. He knew that, but— "Look, you—said it's just okay. Do you actually not like sex? Or do you just not like it with me?"
"I like it with you?" Tobio started to trip over his sentences, and his eyes desperately scanned Atsumu's face as if it hid the right ones. "It's like watching a movie with you, or walking around the city. It's something to do. I do like doing things with you more than with other people."
"But do you want it," Atsumu said, and he refused to acknowledge the whine in his voice. "Do you want me? Or would you rather do something else, always?"
"I...want you. I don't want to break up. Yeah, there are other things I would rather do, but that doesn't mean I want to break up?"
"No, I meant more—do you want me?"
Tobio gaped, trying to answer but no longer knowing the words. He didn't even understand the question.
But that was already an answer.
Atsumu took a very long, very deep breath. His mind was clear where his heart wasn't. He told himself he was an adult. That at other times Atsumu's blown up, Tobio did crazy shit like fly across the world to play a night of volleyball with him. So Atsumu was going to keep it together this time—the next time he opened his mouth, he wasn't going to accuse Tobio of toying with him, or pitying him, or any of the stuff that was just meant to make Tobio hurt as much as Atsumu hurt instead of do anything useful. He checked that it was safe for him to get up before rising to his feet. "Tobio. I'm not an expert, but it sounds like, maybe, you could be asexual. Go look it up yourself. I'm going to take a shower while you do." A really fucking cold one.
Atsumu took his time in the bathroom. He leaned his forehead against the wall, the shower tiles hard and soberingly cold. Water streamed down his temples and beaded off his nose, and soon the only heat that remained was a burning in his face and the ache in his chest. His mind told him that Tobio had proven his commitment to the relationship, and that the guy probably hadn't bothered to learn anything about himself besides his block height, yet Atsumu couldn't help the seed of doubt in his heart, and the undercurrent of humiliation.
When he shut his eyes, he felt Tobio's hands along his body. All those intimate touches that Atsumu had thought were fueled by the same fire they left in their wake—were those all just Tobio's attempts to humor him, like an adult playing along with make-believe? Had Atsumu been the only one who thought they were getting closer? Atsumu had wanted, desired, he hungered —and maybe Tobio just aped, taking his partner's body into his hands and slapping it a few times until it got bent into the right shape.
The thought was unbearable. Especially given how many times they'd fucked by now.
Eventually Atsumu turned off the water. He brushed his teeth. He clipped his nails. Filed them almost as religiously as Tobio did. Unfortunately he ran out of personal maintenance things to do, so he opened the door. Tobio waited for him in the bedroom, sitting on the bed crosslegged and nervous.
Tobio spotted him and straightened. "Atsumu-san," he said. "I looked it up. I think you're right."
He looked so intent, so tense. Seeing Tobio like this lanced Atsumu with guilt, though his pride would only allow a sullen, "Yeah? You sure you thought that through?"
Tobio's gaze drifted to the side, actually thoughtful now that he saw Atsumu would wait for him. The prickles of guilt just wouldn't stop. "...Yeah. It all...fits. I've never dated anyone else, but it explains a lot of conversations I've never understood. In the locker room...Rio...elsewhere." Tobio reached out, his fingers taking Atsumu's. Atsumu let himself be pulled to sit on the bed, if begrudgingly. "But I don't hate it like some people do. Like I said, it's not that I don't like it. It's an activity like anything else. I'll do it with you if you want."
"Tobio, I'm not gonna take advantage of you," Atsumu began heatedly.
"You're not. I'm offering. It's like how you'll go to the restaurants I like, even though you prefer sushi. Or you'll watch a volleyball match instead of an action movie."
"That's not the same thing at all."
"It is the same. If I don't want to do something, I'll tell you. And I wouldn't want to bother with someone else, but because it makes you happy, sometimes I want to do it. And doing things just to make you happy is fine sometimes, right? Just like you do for me."
"I—It's different," Atsumu insisted, "because it's, ya know, intimate, and I'm really putting myself out there, ya know? It's just me, on a platter."
"Why is that different?"
His face was burning now. It was so embarrassing to have to admit this. Why couldn't Tobio just get it? But there was no way around it—Atsumu had learned, sometimes painfully like right now, that the man needed to be told everything directly. "Because it's me and not just some dish or movie. I wanna feel like you want me, that you wouldn't have eyes for anyone else." I want to be adored, I want your eyes to linger after me. "That I'm special to you."
"Of course you're special. That's why we're in a relationship."
"That—that every inch of me is special! Dammit. I want to be liked the way I like you."
"I do," Tobio insisted. "You're special. Every inch!"
It should feel good. It should be enough. But brains were stupid and Atsumu couldn't shake that nagging worry that maybe it was just him, that he was not as wanted. So instead of Atsumu reassuring Tobio, they sat there in silence on the bed, their fingers still twined but full of tension.
Tobio's grip steadily grew stronger, and given the workout routine the guy kept up, it wasn't long before the pain broke through Atsumu's stupor. Atsumu turned to find Tobio staring back at him, the worry in his usually stoic features plain. Every second that passed, that worry magnified, and Atsumu ached to see it but it was still Tobio who had to break the silence.
"Will you—do you not want to do this anymore, then? This relationship. ...Being together. With me."
Urgh. Atsumu wasn't used to feeling shitty. Yeah, maybe he was selfish, that's what Osamu said, anyway. But he just took what he wanted, and if other people truly wanted something, they should have taken as hard as he did. Yet this wasn't the first time he'd felt like the bad guy with Tobio, and the guilt hit him just as bad this time. Tobio actually did give everything his all, as best as his dense brain knew how. It wasn't Tobio's fault that he knew the feelings of volleyballs better than he knew the feelings of people, including himself.
Tobio continued in a stammer. "In the beginning, I said it'd be okay if you saw other people—"
"No! Not—!" Atsumu gripped Tobio's hand with both of his. "Of course I wanna stay together. Don't fucking doubt that. I just—we just need to talk about what we like and don't like. I mean, it's a real shock to me that ya felt that way about our encounters, but it ain't a problem that ya felt that way, it's that I didn't know. I just wanna be on the same page."
"...Okay."
The moment Atsumu said he wanted to stay together, the tension in Tobio's fingers ebbed. ...Atsumu did admit that it helped to feel how sincerely Tobio wanted this relationship, but he also knew how dangerous that sincerity could be to Tobio, better than the man did himself. He rubbed a thumb along Tobio's knuckles. "So—so let's get on the same page. Now that we know where we stand there, what do you like to do? I mean, not just 'cause it makes me happy, but physical stuff that makes you happy."
Tobio's lips pressed in a sullen line, but Atsumu had admitted so many embarrassing things today that it was definitely Tobio's turn. "I like holding your hand," he muttered, "and touching you. Knowing you're nearby. Waking up and having you there."
"Kissing?"
"It's good. But it's inconvenient because you can't do anything else while you do that, so I prefer holding hands."
"Geh. But I guess that's just like you."
"What about you? What...do you like?"
"Huh? I mean, I like it all. I guess huggin' ya is especially nice, 'cause we touch lots that way."
"Oh. Really?" Tobio studied Atsumu's fingers. "I've always thought Atsumu-san didn't like it that much."
"What? Why?"
"When we're in the same room, we're close, but usually you're happy staying in the other room, too."
"Whatcha talkin' about," Atsumu began, but suddenly his mind flipped through a series of times Tobio interrupted Atsumu while he was browsing through his phone or got lost in a game or a magazine. "...Huh. Well, yer wrong."
Tobio avoided his eyes, and a part of Atsumu thought, Oh, I guess we share that feeling, too.
Atsumu reeled Tobio in and held him tight, as if he could squeeze the doubt out of both of them. "I love it when we're together," Atsumu said into Tobio's neck. "I shouldn't have yelled at'cha."
"Mm."
"I shouldn't have just toldja to look it up yerself. This was important for ya and I shoulda been here supportin' ya instead of—what I did."
The cords of Tobio's neck shifted, turning to Atsumu, but Atsumu didn't pull away to meet his gaze.
"And this shouldn't need sayin', but I know you sorta need everything said so I'm just gonna cover my bases. Even if we never do it again, I still wanna be with you. I mean, heck, I wanted to do long distance. So don't ever feel like ya gotta, y'know, put out or anything. That ain't why I'm with you."
"Atsumu-san." Tobio shifted a bit more, but Atsumu refused to let up his crushing hug. Eventually, in pieces, Tobio leaned against him, melted in his arms—first in the shoulders, then with his chin on Atsumu's shoulder, then everywhere at once. The weight the man trusted to Atsumu filled his heart. Kageyama Tobio was his, his, his.
Tobio's murmur was small. "I don't want this to end."
"It won't."
They lingered in that position, nestled to each other. Tobio's soft black hair smelled warm and fresh as usual, and his breaths feathered along Atsumu's neck, in and out. Time passed the way sunsets deepened. Atsumu had never thought he could be so content to sit still and do nothing, and even less that Kageyama Tobio would. Atsumu had become so lame. Somehow he didn't mind.
"Just so you know," Atsumu added as he kissed Tobio's temple. "I am really hot. You should still appreciate that."
"I know," Tobio said unexpectedly. "Even though it doesn't make me want to have sex, I can tell you're good-looking. Plus that's all your fanclub talks about."
"You follow my fanclub?"
"I joined it awhile back."
Atsumu resisted the urge to text everyone about that right now.
"But they don't know the best part about you."
"The best part?" Atsumu prompted with undisguised curiosity.
"Yeah." Tobio closed his eyes and gently lifted Atsumu's hand to his mouth, pressing soft lips to the pads of Atsumu's fingers. "Your hands are really nice." His eyes flickered open again as he moved Atsumu's hand against his cheek, and a sliver of a smug grin curved his mouth. "But only I've touched them, so only I know."
"Yeah. Mhm. Yeah. Yer right. Okay ya know what it's late, I'm taking a quick shower and then let's turn in."
"Hah?" Tobio demanded with completely inappropriate confusion as Atsumu leapt to his feet. "Didn't you just take one?"
"I missed a spot, you idiot!" Atsumu rushed for the safety of the bath a second time.