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Tobio can feel a pair of eyes watching him, expectant and keen. Tobio does not look up to meet them though; he takes his time, flipping through every side of the plastic-covered menu that was handed to him, despite already knowing what he wants.
The owner of the pair of eager eyes grows impatient, however.
“Well?” An agitated voice barks at Tobio. Tobio neatly folds the menu back up, placing it on the side of the table so that a server can easily pick it up again. He finally looks up into those eyes, facing them with a blank stare.
“I want the sweet and sour prawns,” Tobio announces.
“Argh!” Tobio watches as Atsumu groans, leaning back in his seat and throwing his head back in frustration. Tobio thinks he hears Atsumu’s neck crack from the excessive force used to do so.
“Tobiooo ,” Atsumu grumbles, sitting upright again, leaning on his forearms on the table. “There’s no way you’re that unobservant, right?”
“What do you mean, Atsumu-san?” Tobio asks, hoping Atsumu will just explain to him whatever he wants Tobio to notice. His mind is too preoccupied with the thought of prawns to entertain Atsumu in this guessing game.
“My hair!” Atsumu whines, slouching so his chin rests on top of his forearms. “You’re supposed to notice my hair and shower me with compliments like oh, Atsumu-san you look so cool and handsome and— ”
“I don’t sound like that,” Tobio interrupts. Atsumu shoots Tobio with a glare that probably means that’s not the main point here.
“My voice is deeper than yours,” Tobio explains “Why would you make yourself sound like a high school girl when you’re trying to imitate me?”
Atsumu makes a sound of annoyance, cupping his cheek with his palm as he looks at Tobio with a rather unimpressed stare.
“Hello! Are you two ready to order?” A server shows up before Atsumu can complain any further. Thankfully, Atsumu seems to be hungry too and perks up, pointing out all the dishes he wants, making sure to add in Tobio’s order too.
“Your food will arrive soon!” The server smiles, bowing quickly before she exits.
Unfortunately, the thought of food isn’t strong enough to totally derail Atsumu’s previous thoughts.
“Well,” he says again, a bit more forcefully. “Did ya notice my hair or not?”
“Yes.”
“And…?”
Tobio leans back a bit, taking a proper look at Atsumu and his hair. It’s been cut since he last saw the older setter, undercut smooth and uniform on both sides. Roots touched up as well, so no hints of brown peek out from top of the hay-coloured strands. It emphasizes those deep eyes and sharp brows, complimenting the bronzeish-brown of his MSBY jacket well. Atsumu looks sorta nice and it makes the tiniest of butterflies flutter in Tobio’s stomach.
“Ugly,” Tobio crosses his arms over his chest. Maybe they’re not butterflies, just the gentle rumbles of hunger. Yeah, that makes more sense.
“Hey!” Atsumu throws a napkin in Tobio’s direction. It drifts in the air, falling halfway between the table. Tobio calmly picks it up and tries folding it into a sailor hat like Hinata showed him once in high school.
“I asked for compliments, not for ya to insult me,” Atsumu scowls. “Is it so hard for you to admit I look good?”
“It wouldn’t be if you actually looked good,” Tobio says, being careful to keep his face and tone neutral as possible.
“I’m gonna spike a volleyball right at your face one of these days,” Atsumu shakes his head, snatching the folded up mess of a napkin in Tobio’s fingers.
“My older sister’s a hair stylist,” Tobio comments, watching as Atsumu folds the napkin into a proper sailor hat, his movements precise and controlled. “I know what I’m talking about.”
Atsumu scoffs, “Samu’s an onigiri cook. But that doesn’t mean I’m an expert on rice quality or anything.”
“She’d agree with me though,” Tobio hums. “She’s a pro. If you went to her you would actually look good.” Tobio, too busy pouring himself some ice water, does not catch the quirk of Atsumu’s brow or the gleam in his eyes after hearing Tobio’s casual remark.
“Here’s your food!” The server girl returns, carefully placing down their plates and bowls. It smells wonderful and those fried prawns look amazing.
“Thank you,” Tobio says to the server, a small smile tugging at his lips as he readies his chopsticks. The girl tells them to enjoy their food, eyes lingering on Tobio before walking away, tray tucked underneath her arm.
“Don’t smile at the server like that,” Atsumu scowls, kicking at Tobio’s shin from under the table.
“I wasn’t smiling at her, I was smiling at my prawns,” Tobio pouts, picking up a giant fried prawn and shoving it in his mouth.
“Tobio-kun, you’re really annoying me today,” Atsumu’s scowl deepens.
“Why are you so moody today?” Tobio grumbles, swallowing his prawn. “Here, try some,” Tobio offers Atsumu some of his dish before further complaints leave the man’s lip.
“Mm!” Atsumu’s eyes widen as he chews on the prawn, “It’s good!”
The conversation about Atsumu’s hair isn’t brought up again, not when Atsumu insists on feeding Tobio a piece of everything, possibly in an attempt to make sure Tobio doesn’t notice how he’s eating all of Tobio’s prawns. But like Atsumu said, Tobio isn’t that unobservant.
He orders some more prawns to-go, holding the take-out bag in his right hand and holding Atsumu’s hand in his left.
💄🏐💖
“Tobio, your taste in men? Not good. Like a two-outta-ten, if I’m being nice.”
Tobio sparingly glances at his phone which sits on the table next to him on speaker. He doesn’t respond though, just continues to twirl his fluorescent blue highlighter in his hand. A mostly empty notebook sits open in front of him, along with a few paperback dictionaries. His laptop lies in the centre of the table, a video outlining irregular verbs on pause.
“Like, I agree. That piss-coloured hair job was ugly. But you don’t say those kinds of things to your boyfriend. Especially if your boyfriend is a crazy person who shows up at my place of business in the middle of the day and begs me to ‘make him super mega hot and blow Tobio-kun’s socks off!’ And I’m paraphrasing here because that kid sure can keep on yapping.”
“What’s that saying about pots and kettles?” Tobio finally comments, distractedly flipping through his Japanese-Italian dictionary.
“Shh... Nee-san is speaking now,” Miwa croons. Tobio doesn’t bother to roll his eyes since she can’t see him anyway. “Unless you’re genuinely asking what the saying is?”
“Just keep going,” Tobio sighs, knowing there is no cutting off one of Kageyama Miwa’s tirades.
“Anyway! As I was saying, either you did a real number on that Miya kid’s self-esteem or there is something fundamentally wrong with him for him to get that worked up over his hair. And that’s coming from me! A person who makes a living off of people who get worked up about their hair!” Miwa continues. Tobio thinks he can hear the sound of a whisk clanging against a bowl in the background. She must be stress-baking again, Tobio muses.
“Did you do it though?” Tobio asks, setting his dictionary aside. Language learning is difficult and he misses having Yachi to point out all the important parts that he needs to memorize. Maybe he could just learn the volleyball-related words and wing the rest?
“Obviously,” Miwa scoffs, “Like hell, I was letting anyone leave my salon looking like that kind of mess. Haven't you seen him yet?”
“No,” Tobio squints at his dictionaries, debating their worth, “Been busy.”
“Well, he looks at least 35% better now, you’re welcome.”
“Thank you?” Nah, he should learn food-related words at least too.
“But seriously Tobio,” Miwa’s voice gains a serious touch, “I know he’s a super cool setter and all that but wouldn’t someone a little less self-absorbed be nicer?”
“Atsumu-san is nice,” Tobio mumbles. In his own weird Atsumu-way. But Tobio withholds that part, partially to keep Hurricane Miwa at bay and partially because he’s gotten distracted by looking up Italian cuisine.
“I guess he did tip pretty well…” Miwa muses, “And he does seem like he wants to impress you. He’s not taking advantage of you or anything though right?” Miwa asks, voice full of suspicion.
“Do you think Italian pizza really tastes better?” is Tobio’s response, “They have a lot of seafood too.” Tobio suddenly recalls that Nishinoya-senpai has been to Italy. He probably has a ton of food recommendations.
“Tobio!” Miwa chastises, “I might not totally hate his guts but you definitely better not marry him!” Miwa warns.
“Nee-san, I don’t think it’s my marriage you should be worrying about.”
“You wanna die young Tobio?”
“What do you want for your 32nd birthday? I won’t be here so tell me now,” Tobio switches his tab to Amazon, getting ready to search and add to his cart.
“Don’t think I don’t hear the pleasure in your voice when you mention my age, brat.”
“Tell me now or I’m getting you whatever’s on sale.”
“Oh,” Miwa sighs, “my little brother is a professional athlete and he can’t even buy me something nice.”
“There’s a power drill that’s 25% off.”
“Chill, I don’t want you to buy me anything,” Miwa says. Tobio hears her shuffling around, the sound of cupboard doors being closed and the clanking of spoons. “You’re leaving soon, just spend some time with me ‘kay?”
“That’s it?” Tobio blinks. He remembers back to teenage Miwa with her long list of gift demands, everything from the latest idol album to an assortment of make-up products.
“That’s it,” Miwa confirms.
“You really are getting old,” Tobio hums.
“Visit soon,” Miwa singsongs, voice high and saccharine “I can’t wait to shove this cheesecake down your throat.”
“Sounds great,” Tobio deadpans.
“…”
“...”
“Bye, loser.”
“Bye, nee-san,” The line goes dead and Tobio is left to face Italian verb conjugation alone.
💄🏐💖
“I thought you said my company was enough…”
“I said I wanted to spend time with you. Never specified doing what.”
“...”
“Quit pouting, Tobio,” Miwa rolls her eyes. “Don’t be mad that you’re so naive and gullible. It’s cute on you,” she pinches Tobio’s cheek, gently patting the skin afterwards. Tobio does not quit his pouting but that doesn’t stop Miwa from continuing to spray his hair with water, prepping it for whatever the hell she’s about to do to him.
Tobio recalls being much younger, sitting on Miwa’s floor with a volleyball between his legs as Miwa adds various clips and ties into his hair, cooing at how cute her baby brother was.
Not much has changed now, Tobio thinks. Although holding a volleyball would be nice. Or at the very least, the cheesecake he was promised.
“I gave your boyfriend a super mega hot makeover. Only fair I give you one too,” Miwa tilts Tobio’s head back, readjusting the towel around his neck, and begins to shampoo his hair. It’s kinda soothing, the way Miwa’s deft fingers work through his hair, massaging his scalp gently.
Neither of them speak for a while after that; Miwa quietly hums as she washes and conditions Tobio’s hair, trimming his bangs and styling them with foreign hair care products that Tobio can’t even guess the pronunciation of. Tobio, for the most part, allows Miwa to do her thing. He closes his eyes and listens to her soft humming, relaxing in the leather seat she had him sit in.
When Tobio feels Miwa removing the thin black shampoo cape from around his neck, he opens his eyes again and is relieved this is over now. As he moves to sit up, a firm hand pushes his chest back down.
“Not done yet, Tobio,” Miwa smiles at him. People say that Tobio’s smile is scary but Tobio thinks that his sister’s is way scarier. “Close your eyes,” she commands.
Tobio recoils slightly when he feels Miwa dab something cool onto his eyelids and on the skin below his eyes. Something with a lotion-like consistency is dabbed onto the rest of his face as well. A soft brush sweeps across his eyelids, so light it feels like tiny butterfly kisses. A larger, but equally soft, brush sweeps over his nose and cheek bones.
Tobio isn’t entirely sure what Miwa is doing to his face but her movements feel practiced and precise so he has a little bit of trust in her. Just a little though because he hasn’t forgotten about that time when he was 9 and Miwa tricked him into letting her practice makeup on him and turned him into a sparkly-looking clown.
He’s not sure how much time has passed but Miwa’s naturally impassive voice tells him to open his eyes.
Tobio opens his eyes and flinches. He goes cross- eyed trying to focus on the scary looking metal contraption Miwa is bringing towards his face. “What’s that?”
“An eyelash curler,” Miwa states, flexing the cramp twice.
“I-is that safe?” Tobio asks nervously, leaning away from Miwa’s approaching hand.
“Obviously,” Miwa rolls her eyes. Tobio is not entirely convinced; that thing looks like it’s gonna rip all his eyelashes out which sounds incredibly painful and bloody and there’s nothing grosser than blood all over your eyes.
“Relax, Tobio,” Miwa softly grabs him by the chin and tilts his head upwards slightly. Tobio really wishes he had a volleyball to keep him calm now. He does his best not to flinch when Miwa latches onto his eyelashes with the Death Clamp but Miwa doesn’t reprimand him so he must be doing okay.
Surprisingly, it’s actually painless. It just feels like something is brushing his eyelashes upwards and his eyelashes don’t tear off in an agonizingly bloody manner so Tobio is much more calm when Miwa moves onto his other eye.
Setting the eyelash curler aside, Miwa swipes some pinkish-red gloss over his lips. It smells like strawberries so Tobio can forgive the slightly slimy feeling it leaves on his mouth.
His sister zhuzhes his hair one last time, delicately placing his bangs exactly how she wants them before taking a step back to admire her hard work.
“You know, Tobio,” Miwa reflects, “you’re pretty easy to apply makeup to. If your volleyball career doesn’t pan out you could be a model maybe,” Tobio rolls his eyes at Miwa’s teasing.
“Can I have cake now?”
“You don’t even wanna see how you look now?”
“No.”
“Ugh, fine. But eat slowly. I don’t need you messing up your face five minutes after I finished.”
“Cut me a big slice!” Tobio calls after his sister’s retreating form.
He plans to eat a lot since he has a sinking suspicion that the cheesecake in Italy just won’t be as good as his sister’s. Objectively of course, because being sentimental over cake would be silly.
💄🏐💖
Tobio heads over to Atsumu’s apartment after saying goodbye to Miwa. Atsumu said he’d make Tobio some dinner and while the timing of his text paired with that knowing twinkle in Miwa’s eyes should make Tobio cautious, the promise of food allures him, much like it always does.
Outside of Atsumu’s apartment, Tobio punches in the code. He doesn’t bother ringing the door since Atsumu knows he’s coming over and also claims he hates the loud shrill of the bell.
The door sounds with a two-toned beep when Tobio opens it, the same beeping going off again once he closes it. He calls out a quiet ‘I’m here’, but there’s no response. There aren’t any lights on from what Tobio can see and he doesn't hear any sounds either.
Tobio takes off his shoes, quietly grabbing a spare pair of slippers from the shoe rack and slipping his feet in.
The setting sun streams in through the blinds, leaving bars of golden light in the living room. Tobio can make out a figure illuminated by the dim light, laying on the couch. He silently creeps over and sits on the couch next to the sleeping figure.
Tobio watches the subtle rise and fall of Atsumu’s chest, listens to the soft sounds of his breath in his sleep. The rays of the sun stretch across his body; one band hits right above Atsumu’s forehead. The new pale, honey colour looks like it’s almost glowing in the evening sun, the subtle waves of his bangs resting on his forehead. Tobio traces his eyes over Atsumu’s face, fingers ghosting over his thick brows and the smooth slope of his nose.
Atsumu is very pretty. It’s not the first time Tobio has noticed, but the fluttering of his heart is the same each time he does.
“Atsumu-san,” Tobio says in a hushed voice, shaking the man’s shoulders slightly. “Wake up...You promised me food…” Atsumu slumbers away.
“Wake up,” Tobio says louder this time, rubbing a hand up and down Atsumu’s arm, squeezing his bicep lightly.
“Mmm… go away Samu…” Atsumu blinks blearily in his direction before closing his eyes again and trying to roll away. Had Tobio not been sitting on the edge of the couch, he would have fallen to the floor.
“Osamu-san would never wake you up this nicely,” he pokes at Atsumu’s shoulder. Atsumu cracks an eye open and takes a better look at the person sitting next to him.
“Tobio-kun!” Atsumu immediately sits up right, launching himself at Tobio’s chest. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll never mistake ya for that trash again,” Atsumu promises, burying his face in Tobio’s collarbone.
“Clingy,” Tobio mutters but wraps his arms around Atsumu regardless.
“Sorry, I took a quick nap,” Atsumu pulls back, “I was gonna—,” Atsumu pauses, blinking as he looks at Tobio’s face. “Woah! What happened to your face? Are you wearing makeup?”
“No— ” Oh wait… Somehow Tobio forgot what Miwa did to him when he went over for lunch earlier. “oooo…?” Tobio trails off, unsure how to proceed now.
Atsumu narrows his eyes, cupping Tobio’s face as he inspects it further and shoots Tobio a suspicious look.
“Yes?” Tobio tries to amend.
“Yes?” Atsumu raises an eyebrow.
“I forgot about it,” Tobio admits, words coming out slightly stifled because of the way Atsumu was squishing his cheeks in his palms. “Why’re your hands so warm?” Tobio questions.
“They’re not, you’re just blushing,” Atsumus states, squishing Tobio’s cheeks further.
“M’not,” Tobio grumbles. “Quit staring at me.”
“But you look so pretty!” Atsumu whines. “Why’d ya put on makeup?”
“Um…” Tobio doesn’t know what kind of answer Atsumu is looking for.
“You were already good looking, this is just unfair,” Atsumu continues to gripe, tilting Tobio’s head from side to side, examining him from every angle. Tobio feels himself flushing even more and hopes his red face doesn’t look ridiculous with the makeup Miwa put on him. Tobio reaches out with his hands, grabbing Atsumu’s face much like his is being held right now.
“You’re… handsome too,” Tobio mumbles, eyes not quite able to meet Atsumu’s.
“Tobio-kun!” Atsumu gasps, clearly delighted. Tobio's eyes look down, locking onto the distressed rips in his jeans. “Oh my god, quit blushing. You look way too pretty with your cheeks all pink.” Tobio retracts his hands from Atsumu’s face, trying to squirm away.
“You said you’re making me dinner,” he tries to change the subject.
“Shh, I’m not done looking at ya yet,” Atsumu pulls Tobio closer so that he’s half on top of Atsumu’s lap. Tobio whines trying to escape, but Atsumu has a firm grip on him; one hand on his upper thigh, thumb pressing into his waist and the other running a finger along his jawline.
“What’s the point of gettin’ all dolled up if I can’t even appreciate ya?” Atsumu whispers into Tobio’s ear, the hot air causing Tobio to shiver.
“Y-you’re the one who went and got your hair done,” Tobio’s fingers clench around the soft fabric of Atsumu’s pullover. “Twice,”
“Well, someone didn’t seem to like it—”
“I do,” Tobio forces himself to look up into Atsumu’s eyes. “I do like it. A lot.”
Maybe the ecstatic twinkle in Atsumu’s eyes is worth the embarrassment.
“So, you didn’t think I looked ugly the other day?” Atsumu’s lips quirk into a teasing smile.
“You look better now,” Tobio shrugs.
“...That doesn’t answer the question…” Atsumu’s eye twitches.
“I told you my sister was a professional,” Tobio nods proudly.
“Don’t mention your sister to me when you’re sitting in my lap,” Atsumu shudders. “Ah! She’s seriously scary!”
“I guess she’s kinda scary sometimes,” Tobio considers.
“Kinda scary sometimes?” Atsumu scowls, flicking at Tobio’s temple, “Do you even know what kind of terrifying she-demon your older sister is? God, I thought she was gonna shave all my hair off or something!”
“She wouldn’t do that,” Tobio says. “I think she did a good job anyway,” Tobio runs his fingers through Atsumu’s hair, the locks feeling wonderfully soft and smooth. He wonders what Miwa put it to make it so soft. He should ask and get some more for Atsumu-san…
“Guessing she did this,” Atsumu taps Tobio’s nose and both his cheeks, “to you too.”
Tobio nods, shifting into a more comfortable position.
“Okay, she admittedly has some solid skills. She’s still scary though!” Atsumu pouts.
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about my sister while I’m in your lap,” Tobio murmurs, hands brushing over Atsumu’s chest and shoulders.
“She doesn’t like, actually, hate me or anything right?” Atsumu grabs Tobio’s hands, taking them into his own.
“Probably not,” Tobio blinks. “Just don’t ever call her nee-san. She said only Hinata and I can call her that.”
“No way! Does she like Shoyo-kun more than me?”
“Definitely, yes,” Tobio deadpans. Atsumu swears, jaw clenching “Also, you’re not allowed to marry me either.”
“I’ll marry ya if I wanna! What’s she gonna do about it?” Atsumu shouts defiantly. Tobio stares.
“...Don’t tell her I said that,” Atsumu laughs, nervous and apologetic. Tobio looks at him, unimpressed. “Tobio-kun!” Atsumu whines, resting his forehead on Tobio’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry. Let her meet Osamu-san and try his food and then maybe she’ll build a reluctant tolerance for you through association. Like I did.”
“Every day I suffer…”
“Are you going to kiss me now?” Tobio asks, having grown impatient a long time ago.
“Clingy much?” Atsumu taunts.
“I can leave?” Tobio offers, leaning away.
“No!” Atsumu wraps his arms around Tobio’s waist, pulling Tobio flush against his chest. “We can kiss now.” And then they do. Maybe worth the wait…
“You taste like strawberries,” Atsumu cheerfully whispers against Tobio’s lips, kissing him again. Tobio can feel the strawberry lip tint smearing around on both of their mouths but can’t bring himself to mind.
Sometime later Tobio takes a well-needed shower and effectively destroys all of Miwa’s hard work on his hair and face. Well, some of it Atsumu ruined he supposes. Still, Atsumu sends him some lingering looks as he (finally) cooks Tobio dinner so Tobio sidles up to him, planting a kiss on his cheek, and tells Atsumu he looks really good cooking Tobio some carbonara.
It’s meant to be a comment about how he’s looking forward to the carbonara but it leads to a red-faced, spluttering Atsumu who demands that Tobio exit the kitchen, for the sake of Atsumu’s heart or something?
Honestly, does Atsumu-san want compliments or not?
💄🏐💖