#regular programming

and you laugh, your fingers making it’s way to comb through his hair, “it’s ten in the morning.”

so kuroo lets go of his hold on your waist, yawning as he moves, and suddenly, your back’s leaning against the kitchen counter.

your laughter and his tired chuckles mixing in the kitchen’s air as he turns you to face him, and his smile is riddled with a sweet ‘good morning’ right before he brings you close for a deep ‘good morning’ kiss.

he grins, “come back to bed.”

you peck his lips, “we don’t have detergent.”

kuroo rolls his eyes, grinning, and you can almost see how desperate he is to go back to bed, but before you could insist that he does, he brings you close again for another kiss — followed by another, and another, and another.

he pulls away, almost out of breath, his face still close to yours, love drunk from the consecutive kisses, and he looks at you.

he tells you, “i promise i’ll come with you to buy detergent later.”

so you hum, indulging in his words, “really?”

his left hand loosely hanging by your waist, his right holding onto your hand, and he pulls you with him as he walks - slow, careful steps, and you know he’s leading you back to your bed, but you’re really starting not to mind.

you tug him back, “you hate grocery shopping.”

and he tells you, “i don’t mind it when it’s with you.” saying it so easily as if it rolls off the tongue.

“we’ll even push the shopping cart together and i promise i’ll pretend not to notice when you take out my energy drinks from the cart.” kuroo continues, laughing at his own jokes, and his smile chirps when you laugh too.

he really wanted you to get back in bed, huh.

the two of you are only a flight of stairs away from your room now, and kuroo stops guiding you on your feet, his smile lazy and gentle and warm, and his arms hang around your waist as he pulls you into a loose embrace.

kuroo kisses you again, not as deep as before, but so, so much softer.

he tells you, “come back to bed with me.”

and it awfully sound like an i love you.

so you cave, and you nod, and your heart soars when his smile widens by the second, and this time it doesn’t only tell you a sweet ‘good morning’ but a gentle ‘i love you’ as well.

you lead him up the stairs, “i could never say no to you.”

kuroo laughs, and he really hopes you mean that, because there’s a certain velvet box in his bedside drawer right now that really really needs you to say yes.

your hands stop moving.

you look at atsumu sitting just a few spaces away from you, his focus solely directed to folding the piece of fabric in his hands, and his expression irritatingly relaxed.

you frown, “what?”

and he shrugs, “ya heard me.”

did you? did you hear him correctly? because it sounded like he told you he didn’t want to buy a house with you anymore. what changed? did you wait too long?

did he suddenly realize he didn’t want to take this step? or even worse, did he suddenly realize he didn’t want to take this step with you?

you push the basket of unfolded laundry away for a second, and your shoulders fall, “are you serious?”

and atsumu takes a second to look at you - his stare the same as always, maybe even a glint of amusement this time, and you wonder what he could possibly be doing now.

his hair is disheveled, it usually always is when it’s just the two of you at home, your shirt matches his as they both seemed to belong to him, and he takes in a nervous breath before letting it out as a laugh.

“i think we should get married.” he tells you.

you blink, and the laundry in your hands is suddenly the last thing on your mind right now.

a laugh comes up your throat, shoulders rising as you choose to not believe what he just said, and you shake your head, “you’re crazy.”

atsumu smiles, laughing along with you, “i think we should get married soon.”

and your smile is nervous, joking, “are you pregnant?”

he laughs again, but this time you can’t find it in you to do anything but stare back at him.

he looks nervous, but you notice how hard he’s trying to cover it up with a sloppy grin and clipped chuckles.

he raises a brow, “are you saying no?”

and right now, atsumu couldn’t care less about the house — but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t often fantasize about what being married to you was like.

you were his perfect picture of suburbia; you and him in a two story house, two cars and custom furniture, the idea of his name being as yours as it was his.

his smile softens, “don’t say no.”

it’s a normal wednesday afternoon, and atsumu miya just asked you to marry him.

the piles of laundry on the floor are long forgotten, his hand on yours as his thumb traces over your palm in circles, and he hopes, wishes — begs — that you say yes.

because even without the house, you have always been atsumu’s home.

your answer is short, but it’s an answer nonetheless, and you’re a bit choked up right now, but you hope it translates well when you say that you mean it — you nod, “okay.”

atsumu blinks, his smile widening, “okay?”

you nod again, laughing as he cheers, “okay.”

and he kisses you, but it’s a different kind of kiss, a kiss thats so nervous and so excited at the same time that atsumu couldn’t help but keep on smiling against your lips.

so you’re the first to pull back, and you blink away the cloudiness in your vision, and through your words you smile, “you know this means we have to buy a house together, right?”