#jt1m

Ao3

#3: SakuAtsu meet uglies. It seems to me that most of y'all don't know just how bad of an obsession that I have with these two losers. Like, the Chaos Incarnate chat knows, and Haz knows, but outside of them, I feel like y'all have no idea. So here. A meet ugly for this challenge.

When Osamu had told Atsumu he'd set him up with a guy "about ten thousand miles outta yer league, yer welcome, scrub", Atsumu had been, of course, skeptical. And then he'd gone on the date and realized that Osamu had been understating just how gorgeous this guy was. And then the date had gone horribly, disastrously wrong. Like, Atsumu had never been on such a miserable date, wrong. Like, Atsumu wanted to change his name and flee the country, wrong. Like, Atsumu was never going to emerge from the pits of despair this date had left him in, wrong. He shuffled into the apartment he shared with his brother, sopping wet and miserable.

"I'm home," he whined, doing his best to peel his soaked sneakers off his feet. Osamu glanced up from the couch, then did a double take.

"Yer soaked," he said.

"Great observation skills ya got there," Atsumu muttered, but it was all the retaliation he could come up with. He just shook his head and squelched down the hall toward the bathroom. When he returned, considerably dryer and a hell of a lot warmer, he dropped onto the opposite end of the couch from Osamu and stared at the television.

"So I take it that didn't go well," Osamu said. His voice was quiet, feeling Atsumu out and gauging his reactions. Atsumu was too exhausted to really do anything about that just then.

"No," Atsumu said dully. "It didn't go well."

I've decided, against my better judgment and at the horrible enableationing of a certain @ezzydean, to write and post 365 ficlets this year, again. I've got a nifty little spreadsheet to keep track and everything. Each one of these will be a different sort of funness. Some will be ceated using the random fic generator I made a while back. Some will have to do with specific numbers or prompts. I'm not promising to post every single day, but I will have 365 by the end of the year. This one in particular is *apparently* the poly karasuno bug coming back to bite me once more, so enjoy!

"God damn you, you stupid motherfucking cunt waffle!"

Asahi smiled, not even bothering to open his eyes as the melody of profanity drifted through the house. It was a beautiful sound, the sound of his love and all the happiness she could bring to his life. There was a long pause of silence, long enough that Asahi could fully wake up and realize just how big and empty their bed was.

When she started shouting again, he grinned and threw the covers off.

"What are you cursing at today?" he asked, padding up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He had to stoop to bury his nose in her soft black hair, but it was worth it for the scent of her floral shampoo and the way she leaned back against him with a happy little hum.

"These morons don't know how to play," she groused, and clicked away at her controller some more.

"Why are you playing standing up, you weirdo?" he laughed, and she just shook her head.

"Gotta concentrate," she said, and then immediately shouted, "You fucking piss ant, my grandma could play better than that and she's fucking dead!"

Asahi shook his head with a chuckle and padded off to find himself some coffee. When she finished her round, she shut down the console and followed him into the kitchen.

"Happy birthday," she said, her voice soft and melodious as it always had been. She stepped up behind him, copying the pose he'd used a moment before, and nuzzling between his shoulder blades.

"Thank you, Kiyoko," he said. He patted at her hand until she let him turn around, but she never removed her arms from his waist. "What time does the chaos start?" he asked.

"I told the others to be here around noon, so any time between an hour ago and six this evening," she said. He laughed again, just in time with the pounding of fists on the door. She hummed, swatted him on the ass, then swiped his coffee cup from the counter and nodded toward the door. "Well?" she taunted. "Go on. You know they won't wait for long. They love you too much for that." There was a double meaning in that, but Asahi ignored it for the time being.

"Brat," he laughed, and went to face his fate. As he opened the door and several members of the old Karasuno team tumbled in in a pile, he couldn't help but think that this right here was exactly how he wanted it.

"Asahi-san!" Nishinoya shouted from his spot on the top of the heap. "What the hell are you still doing in your pajamas?"

"Well, Noya, I just woke up, having spent the morning of my birthday lounging in bed, but a certain group of miscreants decided to interrupt me," Asahi huffed, and Nishinoya grinned up at him.

"I don't think they know what the word 'miscreants' even means," Tsukishima drawled. He was the only one who had avoided the pile, and he stood with his hip leaning against the doorway and his arms crossed and a smile on his face.

"Probably not," Asahi agreed, and hauled Nishinoya out of the doorway so that the others could start standing. He counted six: Nishinoya and Tsukishima, Tanaka, Hinata, Kageyama, and buried all the way at the bottom where Asahi hadn't even seen him, Kinoshita, who turned and glowered at Kageyama as soon as he was freed. "Are the others coming here, or are we meeting them?" Asahi asked.

"Daichi-san and Suga-san said they were coming here, but Yamaguchi and Narita-san are picking Yacchan up and meeting us at the shrine," Hinata chirped in answer. Asahi glanced at the clock on the stove and nodded.

"We should probably get going as soon as Daichi and Suga get here, then, to make sure Tadashi and Kazuhito don't break anything," he said.

"You gonna go in your boxers?" Tanaka asked with a waggle of his eyebrows. Asahi glanced down at himself and hummed.

"I would, but you know how I feel about free shows," he answered, turning down the hall to the sound of Tanaka choking on his own laughter. Kiyoko met him in the bedroom, leaning up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

"Are you going to do it this year?" she asked.

"We'll see how the shrine visit goes," he answered. She nodded.

"I'm with you either way."

"I know."

Suga and Daichi were just arriving when Asahi emerged, dressed this time. Suga hadn't removed any of his layers, but at the sight of Asahi coming down the hall, Daichi groaned and started pulling his coat back on.

"Do we have everyone?" Suga asked. "Who's got the child leashes today?"

"It's my birthday, so not me," Asahi said serenely.

"I lived in a foreign country for--"

"Two years, we know, Shouyou," Nishinoya interrupted. "I've set foot on six different continents. It's not gonna stop them from trying."

"You're both so small. We just don't want to lose you in the crowds!" There was absolute innocence in Suga's voice, but they all knew by then not to trust that. Hinata just rolled his eyes and stomped out the front door.

As Asahi walked through the streets toward the nearest shrine, he turned the same thought over and over in his head like a shiny stone. Kiyoko held one of his hands, muttering obscenities under her breath as they walked arm-in-arm, but the other hand was swinging back and forth in Suga's grip. Kinoshita had Noya in a piggyback hold, while Hinata tried to cajole Tsukishima into the same. Tanaka and Daichi were talking in soft tones at the front of the group.

"You know," Suga said, quiet enough that Asahi could pretend not to hear, if he wanted, "It doesn't need to fit in a box. It doesn't need a label that anyone else understands. If it works, it works, and that's all that matters."

Asahi hummed, squeezing his hand. They were just coming up to the shrine, their missing three waiting for them at the bottom of the steps. Asahi took a deep breath of the cold air and looked around at all of them, chattering and laughing and swearing and hanging off of one another, moving in a synchronized orbit like they had for years now. Suga was right, he thought, and smiled. What did it matter what anyone else thought, when he had this? Good fortune was already his, and had been all along. He just had to reach out and take it.

Come trick or treating in my inbox! Leave a “Trick or Treat” and a character or ship in an ask, and I’ll treat you to some autumn-themed fluff or trick you with some twisted spooky aus! Treat

A bonfire seemed like a great idea on the last night of a MSBY camping trip. Meian had a stick in his hands, poking at the flames in that way that dads do, swatting at Inunaki’s hands when he tried to do the same. Bokuto had brought along a guitar and Adriah was plucking out some English song on it while Barnes hummed along. Even Sakusa was there, looking relaxed as he ever did.

But Atsumu only had eyes for one teammate.

It wasn’t anything new. Osamu had teased him for years about his stupid crush on the little orange-haired crow, teasing that had turned into incredulous, wheezing laughter when Atsumu had mentioned him among the new recruits back in 2018. Bokuto had noticed right away, and Sakusa not long after. The only two mercies in Atsumu’s life were that Inunaki had not yet noticed, and that neither had Hinata himself.

But now, watching Hinata, seeing the way the slowly-dying flames lit his face in softer shades than usual, watching the way his smile was just a tad sleepy and slow, Atsumu let himself wish that Hinata would notice. Because at least then Atsumu could know definitively, and could move on with his life.

Hinata’s eyes caught Atsumu’s, and he smiled such a soft smile that Atsumu’s entire soul ached with its longing. He dragged his eyes away, looking at the fire instead and trying to ignore the quiet scoff from beside him.

“This is just sad, Miya.” Sakusa’s voice was quiet enough that no one else picked out the words. Atsumu shook his head.

“Ya think I don’t know that, Omi-kun?” he hissed.

“The saddest part of it all is that you keep looking away,” Sakusa continued, because he loved watching Atsumu suffer. Bastard. “Maybe next time, keep watching.” Atsumu looked up at him, confused, and he shrugged. “You might be surprised what you see.”

With that, Sakusa stood, ignoring the team’s goodnights and trudging off to his own tent.

One by one, the other players split off as well, until with a final check-in from Meian, Atsumu was alone by the barely-cold ashes. He tipped his head back with a sigh, thinking of how few stars he could see in Osaka, trying to remember when the last time he’d visited home had been, holding off a daydream about seeing those Hyogo stars with—

“Tsumu-san, what are you doing out here by yourself?”

Atsumu let his head turn lazily, enough to hide the way his heart jumped and started hammering in his chest. He smirked at Hinata, then turned back skyward.

“Nothin’ much, Shouyou-kun. Just thinkin’.”

“About what?”

To Atsumu’s surprise, Hinata lowered himself onto the log next to Atsumu, letting their sides press together. Probably just for warmth, Atsumu told himself firmly. With the fire dead, the mountain air was a nippy enough to allow for huddling. Atsumu hummed, shrugging. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hinata look up as well.

“In high school, I used to wake up when it was still dark out, to bike over the mountain to get to Karasuno.” Hinata’s voice was soft, dream-like, almost. Atsumu turned away from the gaseous bodies above them to look at the star sitting next to him instead, and waited. Keep watching, he told himself, letting himself wonder if maybe Sakusa was on to something.  Hinata was smiling. “There were always so many stars on those bike rides,” he said. “When I moved to Rio, I’d still see them sometimes, but not as often. And of course, there’s so much light pollution in Osaka…” Hinata sighed. “I miss it sometimes.”

“Samu and I used ta go campin’ with our uncle at the end of every summer,” Atsumu said. “A lot like this, actually. He owned land on the far side of Kobe. Actually, not that far away from where my old senpai has his farm now.” Hinata looked at him, and something about the night, about the starlight washing out the color in Hinata’s hair but dancing in his eyes, about the chill in the air that wasn’t actually enough to justify how close they were sitting, about the lingering scent of campfire smoke clinging to their clothes, something made Atsumu want to be brave. And then Hinata smiled, moving the arm squished between them until his hand could snag Atsumu’s where it hung from his knee. He looked back up at Atsumu, still smiling, and squeezed.

“You should take me there sometime,” he said, and it sounded to Atsumu like he was really saying something else. Atsumu nodded.

“I’ll show ya all the places I knew as a kid,” he said, and he knew that Hinata could tell he was saying something else as well. Hinata’s smile softened for just a moment, then he turned back to the heavens and leaned against Atsumu’s shoulder.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sunrise in the mountains,” he murmured. Atsumu knew that wasn’t true, that Hinata had been up before dawn just that morning, and that he had risen early when living in Brazil, too. But rather than point any of that out, he simply rested his cheek on top of Hinata’s head and closed his eyes.

Come trick or treating in my inbox! Leave a “Trick or Treat” and a character or ship in an ask, and I’ll treat you to some autumn-themed fluff or trick you with some twisted spooky aus!

Treat

“No.”

Haru ignored Sousuke’s words, but continued staring at him. Sousuke deliberately did not make eye contact.

“I said no.”

Haru was getting closer. He wasn’t pouting, not really, but the intensity of that stare wasn’t letting up, either.

“It’s not happening, Haruka.”

“Give it up, Sousuke, you know he’s gonna win,” drawled Rin from his spot draped across Sousuke’s armchair.

“Why are you even here?” Sousuke shot in his direction.

“Dunno, but that’s not gonna work to distract him,” Rin replied, flipping a page in his magazine.

“Sousuke.”

Fuck. When Haru said his name like that, Sousuke didn’t have much chance of withstanding. All three of them knew he had already lost, but he held on valiantly, anyway.

“You’re such a basic bitch,” Sousuke groaned. “You’re a thirty-year-old Japanese man, not some white teenage girl. Why do you even want it so bad?”

“It reminds me of you.” Haru’s voice was uncharacteristically soft underneath the scowl and the grumble he slapped on top to cover himself. Sousuke looked at him a little closer, cataloging the genuine vulnerability underneath the displease twist of his lips.

“…Why?”

“Because it’s what he ordered on your first date,” Rin chimed in.

“How do you even—“ Sousuke shook his head. “Rin, get out. Go bother someone else.”

“Mkay.” Rin closed his magazine and scooped his bag, not even bothering to say a proper goodbye as he left their apartment. Sousuke rolled his eyes and turned back to Haru.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Sousuke asked, trying to keep his voice soft but not mushy. Haru huffed. Now he was outright refusing to look at Sousuke at all, as though the staring contest he’d started hadn’t even happened.

“It just makes me think of you, okay?” he muttered. “We went on that date and you bought me that latte and then we walked around the park and the leaves were changing. Happy?”

And, really, Sousuke was. It wasn’t often that he or Haru admitted anything that sentimental to each other, and each time it happened that same giddy rush of joy and contentment flooded every ounce of Sousuke. He reached out to cup Haru’s jaw, nudging until he reluctantly looked up.

“Where do you want to go get it?” he asked.

“The closest coffee shop that sells it is that one over by the train station,” Haru answered. Sousuke bit back a groan. He fucking hated that coffee shop and their outrageous prices and the baristas that tittered like they’d never seen a gay couple before even though Haru dragged Sousuke in there at least three times a month. Instead, he shook his head with a rueful smile.

“Go get your coat,” he said. “I will pay for one pumpkin spice latte and that’s it. Any desserts you want are on you.”

“That’s fine,” Haru said, climbing off the couch and padding over to the genkan. “I make better pastries than tham anyway.”

"Hey, Kou-san? I think there's something... living... in the back alley."

Aiichirou looked up at the newest part-timer, gripping his broom a little too tightly as he talked to Kou near the doorway of the office. She whirled around to look at him behind the desk but he already had his finger poised on the tip of his nose. "Nose goes," he called.

"I hate you, Ai-kun," she muttered.

"You're the one who instituted that rule," he said serenely. She glared at him, a fierce look that would have lesser - or even just less-desensitized - men cowering before her. He simply blinked, waiting until she huffed and turned on her heel to stalk out the back door. He waited for a count of thirteen before he stood and followed her. It wouldn't do for her to know he cared enough to follow right away, after all. He was here to be entertained, not to protect. Sure. That would work.

When he opened the back door, lazily peering around it, he found her crouching gingerly in front of a pile of boxes stacked against the building across the alley from theirs. She held a wooden spoon in her hand, using the handle to poke gently at...

"Is that a dog?" Aiichirou asked. Kou shrugged, poking at it again. It was a dingy grey, covered in mats and grime. The third time she poked it, it lifted its head and let out a growl.

Come trick or treating in my inbox! Leave a “Trick or Treat” and a character or ship in an ask, and I’ll treat you to some autumn-themed fluff or trick you with some twisted spooky aus! Treat I swear, the Sousuke and the Makoto are in this, they just. Don't show up for a while lmao. @ezzydean come collect your child, he's running amok in prompts again.

“Rei-chan, it’s time.” Rei didn’t even look up from the magazine he was flipping through, which, rude. Nagisa was pulling out his very best Drama, and the least his best friend could do was at least pay attention. “The winds are changing, Rei-chan. The air grows cold. My days of freedom have come to an end, and it is time, at last, for you to put me in the ground.”

“Mhmm.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Nagisa-kun, your libido is not my problem,” Rei droned, turning a page.

“I’ll make it your problem,” Nagisa threatened. Rei sighed, tucking his thumb in to mark his place as he closed his magazine and leveled Nagisa with a Look.

“Threats do not work on me, Nagisa-kun, you know that.”

“I think you’re thinking of bribery, Rei-chan. Threats work perfectly well, when you know the right pressure points.” Nagisa maintained eye-contact, his jaw tightening as Rei’s own competitive nature kicked in and it became a full-blown staring contest.

“Wait, why is Hazuki-san threatening Ryuugazaki-san?” Momo stage-whispered. Rei looked away and Nagisa grinned.

“Because he’s got too high of a sex drive,” Ai replied, casual, like he was discussing the weather, and don’t even get Nagisa started on the hypocrisy of that—

“Momo-chan,” Nagisa said, slapping his hands down on the table and leaning over it into Momo’s space. Momo, bless him, had not learned one bit over the many years they’d known each other, and leaned forward as well, attentive and eager to please. “I am today in the unique position to make you a once-in-a-lifetime offer. If you act within the next…” he glanced at the clock. “…fourteen minutes, you will be totally free to murder me with absolutely zero retaliation from my ghost.”

“…Yeah, I’m gonna have to say no on that one, Hazuki-san. Sorry.”

“Grave mistake, Momo-chan,” Nagisa sighed.

“Well, whatever machiavellic revenge you’re going to pass on to him, better come up with it soon,” Ai said, still snuggling into Momo’s side and looking out the window, an utterly bored expression on his face. “Here they come.”

Nagisa’s head whipped around so fast that something cracked in his neck, but none of that mattered one bit. Not when Rin was walking through the door of the coffee shop and behind him were—

“Fuck,” Nagisa whined, dropping his head onto the table. Rei reached out and patted the back of it absently, already turned back to his magazine.

“The hell’s his problem?” Rin asked, dropping into the seat beside Ai and flopping across him, making Momo let out a quiet ‘oof’.

“The usual,” Rei said.

“It’s flannel season,” Ai explained. Nagisa whined into the table, pointedly ignoring the way he could hear the two remaining seats filling.

“Nagisa, what’s happening?” Makoto asked, not quite sounding like a mother concerned for the well-being of his precious kouhai, but more like a mother whose many, many children had drained his will to live and his patience for shenanigans.

“You,” Nagisa answered, still refusing to look up.

“Me.”

“And him.”

“Him being Sousuke-kun?”

“Yep.”

“Nagisa, what are you talking about?”

Nagisa tilted his head up to lean his chin on the table and level Makoto with a glare. Across from him, Sousuke was already smirking, his chin on his hand and his eyes hooded like he knew he didn’t need to try to seduce Nagisa, but was going to put in the effort anyway. Nagisa stuck his tongue out at him.

“Nagisa,” Makoto groaned.

“Every fall, when the weather gets colder, the two of you break out the flannel shirts, and my life goes to hell,” Nagisa snipped. “And it’s always you two. Rei-chan doesn’t wear flannels, Sei-chan is so aggressively asexual that he doesn’t even register to me, and no one else in our friend group is big enough to give off the hot lumberjack vibes you two have oozing off of you. I know Sou-chan’s doing it on purpose, but I can’t decide if you not realizing is better or worse, actually. And since we all know neither of you is gonna go there, I’m left sitting here drowning in a pool of my own hormones. Every. Goddamn. Year.”

Makoto blinked, but he didn’t flush or sputter like Nagisa had half-expected. Instead, he glanced at Sousuke with an almost amused furrow in his brow.

“Who said neither of us would go there?” he laughed. Rei groaned, turning to glare at Nagisa.

“If the apartment isn’t spotless when you’re done, I swear I will shred every last blanket you own to ribbons.”

“Woah, Rei-chan, I don’t—“

“Every. Last. One. I want the whole place sparkling. And smelling of citrus cleaner. I will not have a repeat of last time. Understood?”

Nagisa glanced over Rei’s shoulder, at the way Makoto was smirking and Sousuke was watching him with what could only be described as bedroom eyes, and shrugged.

“You’ll never find all my blankets anyway, so, sure. Understood.”

With that, he hopped out of his seat, returning Rin and Ai’s lazy waves with one of his own, and marched out of the coffee shop without bothering to wait and see if the other two were following him. He could hear the laughter and the shuffling of chairs behind him anyway, and he had more important things to devote his brain power to. Like planning. And all the creative ways he could use those damned flannel shirts.

Come trick or treating in my inbox! Leave a “Trick or Treat” and a character or ship in an ask, and I’ll treat you to some autumn-themed fluff or trick you with some twisted spooky aus! Is this a trick? Is this a treat? Who knows, certainly not me!

The day had begun just this side of cold, as it usually did near the end of October. Chilly, that was the word for it. There was a chill, a nip, a bite to the air, but it wasn’t enough to be called cold. Hisashi left the house with just a light jacket, a windbreaker the origins of which he could no longer remember. Did people even wear windbreakers anymore?

The meeting place was once a grove, home to a beautiful old tree and its younger siblings. Now it was just another suburban street corner. Hisashi didn’t have the energy to sneer at that. He hadn’t in god only knew how many dozens of years now.

Futakuchi was already there. Hisashi knew he was, even when he was still blocks away. The morning was drawing to its end, the sun reaching its height, and it was no longer chilly enough for a jacket. Hisashi paused outside a fast food chain to take it off and tie it around his waist. He knew what sorts of looks he was attracting, between the jacket and the fact tha the was pausing and the fact that he was on foot at all. But much like the energy to sneer, the energy to care had faded decades ago. He looked up at the hazy sky with the most he could muster up of a wish for times long gone, and kept walking.

When he reached the street corner that was once an ancient grove, he stopped beside his old companion.

“Not long now,” he murmured. Futakuchi didn’t answer, but Hisashi knew that didn’t mean he hadn’t heard. “Do you think this one will wipe them out?”

Futakuchi did answer that one, a slow shake of his head and a sigh. “Humans are a persistent species, you know that,” he said. “This has been building longer than we’ve been alive, you know. And how many cataclysms have they survived in all that time?”

Hisashi didn’t point out what they both knew: that those cataclysms were exactly why they were there, in the suburbs instead of a forest. He also didn’t point out that they, too, were a cataclysm, and that if humanity survived them, it would mean their long lives were for nothing.

“Not nothing,” Futakuchi murmured. Hisashi glanced at him.

“I’d forgotten about that,” he admitted.

“That you don’t need to say it out loud?” Hisashi nodded. Futakuchi shook his head and took Hisashi’s hand in his own. “It may not be the humans we need to worry about this time,” he said. Hisashi hummed. Futakuchi was right. This horror the humans had created was more insidious than anything the gods had come up with yet, including the two of them. Hisashi squeezed Futakuchi’s hand.

“We’ll survive,” he promised, looking out over the sprawling watercolor-stain of humanity stretched before them. He sighed. “We’ll survive like we always do, and so will they. I just.”’

“What is it?”

Hisashi looked up to find Futakuchi looking at him, something that didn’t happen as often as they both wanted it anymore. Hisashi smiled, a sad little thing. “Remember when they were beautiful?” he asked.

“They’re still beautiful,” Futakuchi pointed out.

“No, I mean… Remember when we could find them beautiful? Before they brought all this beyond the point of no return?”

“I do,” Futakuchi murmured. “You were the most beautiful of all of them.” He reached out with his free hand to cup Hisashi’s cheek. “You’re still more beautiful than any of them could ever be.”

The sun beat down directly overhead, and Hisashi was beginning to sweat. “I have to return,” he said, reluctant. But Futakuchi smiled at him, squeezing his hand.

“Not long now,” he promised.

“Not long now,” Hisashi repeated. He raised Futakuchi’s hand to press a kiss to each of his knuckles, then let it go. As he walked back through the endless grid of suburban streets, wishing he could see just one playing child or laughing couple, he glanced at the sky where hung the sun, heavy and red and ready to lash out.

Come trick or treating in my inbox! Leave a “Trick or Treat” and a character or ship in an ask, and I’ll treat you to some autumn-themed fluff or trick you with some twisted spooky aus! Treat

Seijuurou was used to this. His clothes had been disappearing since he was a kid, thanks to how much bigger he had always been than both Momo and Isuzu, but it had gotten so much worse his third year of high school. Going by the way Isuzu complained about her own clothes disappearing, it was a common Matsuoka courting ritual to just raid closets. The only reason Ai had gotten out unscathed in those months before Rin had gathered his courage was because he was too small for his closet to hold anything usable— though the same could not be said of his blanket collection.

So, yes. Seijuurou was used to his clothes, especially his jackets and sweaters, disappearing without notice. Even when Rin was overseas, Ai did it frequently enough to keep Seijuurou limber. So when Seijuurou opened his closet on the first truly chilly day one autumn to find it bare of anything with long sleeves, he just shook his head and closed it again, then moved to the living room to find something he could wear.

He stopped short.

Rin was sprawled along the length of the couch in Seijuurou’s Samezuka jacket, one of his sweaters layered underneath. Ai was sitting at the table in front of him, swimming in one of Seijuurou’s sweatshirts. But what got Seijuurou’s breath catching in his chest and his mind shooting through scenarios and possibilities and stopping short at the singular thought of wow was this:

Daichi, plopped on the floor with his head in Ai’s lap, rambling on about something to do with Suga and a banana, wearing Seijuurou’s college hoodie.

Rin was the first to notice him. He looked up from his book with a scowl that was more resting bitch face than anything. It turned into brow-furrowed confusion at what must have been a completely dumbfounded expression on Seijuurou’s face. Rin traced Seijuurou’s gaze to where he could not stop glancing at Daichi, and then Rin laughed.

“God, Mikoshiba, you should be used to this by now,” he snorted. Daichi broke off from his story and he and Ai glanced at Rin and then at Seijuurou.

“Oh. You broke him,” Ai commented. “Been a while since that happened.”

“Who broke him?” Daichi asked, and his voice was that beautiful amused-curious that had first caught Seijuurou’s interest.

“You did,” Rin answered. Daichi looked back at him, then his face did that gorgeous thing where he visibly worked through the logic set before him to try and puzzle out a problem. He looked at Seijuurou, standing in a t-shirt, then at Ai, then at Rin, then down at his own chest. A smile, the kind that only ever spelled trouble, stretched across his face.

“Y’know,” he hummed, settling more firmly against Ai. “It’s nice, being smaller than someone. Doesn’t happen that often for me. I tend to go more for smaller guys. But…” he glanced at Seijuurou, looking for all the world like a cat about to knock a glass off a counter. “That means that I buy a lot of my own clothes bigger, to get that boyfriend jacket feeling.” He shrugged and closed his eyes, clearly done with his setup. Seijuurou narrowed his eyes at him and pieced through what was offered. It was true that Seijuurou’s hoodie sat just about the same amount of baggy on him as most of his own clothes. Which meant that there was probably a sweater or two in Daichi’s own wardrobe that was about the same size…

Seijuurou grinned and darted into the bedroom, pulling open Daichi’s drawer at the bottom of the dresser. It was jammed full, overflowing with everything Daichi had crammed into it since he was here more often than not, the slow precursor to him just moving in one day the way Ai had a few years before. Seijuurou smiled at that thought as he pawed through the clothes, emerging triumphant with an old Karasuno sweatshirt. Seijuurou slipped it over his head, sighing contentedly as it fit just a little loose. And then the scent hit him.