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3 or 20 with skts for the things you said prompt!!

i've been having a hard time recently so i gave all my issues to sakusa. i hope this turned out ok <3

as simple as brushing your teeth, or: some ways he learns to love you

summary: kiyoomi does not know when he last brushed his teeth. atsumu is kinder about it than expected. they love each other. prompt: things you said too quietly / things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear pairings: established kiyoomi sakusa/atsumu miya words: 1917 warnings: discussion of some not so pretty body stuff (kiyoomi doesn't brush his teeth for a while and they talk about it. that's the whole fic.), a one-line mention of throwing up after drinking

“It’s bothering you again, isn’t it?”

Kiyoomi flinches, tearing his gaze away from himself in the mirror. He hadn’t heard Atsumu come over to their bathroom. He had left the door open, just intending to grab some lotion before exiting again, and Atsumu must have caught sight of him from the hallway.

Living together has been good mostly, even if that was slightly unexpected. Sharing his space has never come naturally to Kiyoomi, but Atsumu has been as accommodating as he can be and so allowing his boyfriend of two years a place in his apartment so far has been a net positive.

It’s only been a few months though and Kiyoomi forgets sometimes that Atsumu is there. He forgets that when he stares at himself in the mirror and makes faces at his reflection, there’s the risk of Atsumu catching him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kiyoomi says stiffly. He turns away from Atsumu to look at his reflection again. “Nothing is bothering me.”

At the edge of his peripheral vision, Atsumu crosses his arms, leaning against the arch of the bathroom doorway. “Babe, something is always bothering you. And I see you grimacing every time you bite something too hard. Don’t think I don’t notice. Your teeth are hurting you again.”

“My teeth are fine.”

Atsumu is frowning, Kiyoomi knows he must be even if he isn’t looking at the doorway. “You don’t have to lie to me about it, Omi. If you’re in pain then—”

“I’m not in pain,” Kiyoomi snaps. It comes out harsher than he wanted it to, but standing in their tiny bathroom with its bright white lighting and wide, imposing mirror, he’s beginning to feel a little like a caged animal. “I told you. My teeth are fine.”

Atsumu is quiet for a minute, and Kiyoomi almost thinks he’s going to change the topic. But then again, Atsumu Miya has never once been able to let something go. “How long has it been then?”

“How long has what been?” There’s a crisp annoyance in Kiyoomi’s words.

“Since you brushed your teeth.”

Kiyoomi stills. He feels a little breathless as he runs his tongue over his upper row of teeth. He can feel the buildup of plaque and a tooth juts out at an odd angle, a product of not having worn his retainer as a teenager. Another tooth is starting to feel much sharper than it used to. “That’s none of your business.”

Atsumu snorts. “As the guy kissing you on the daily, it feels like a little bit my business.”

“Well no one is fucking forcing you to do that!” Kiyoomi’s snap is cold and cruel, like a slap to the face or like biting straight into ice.

Atsumu recoils, uncrossing his arms and straightening up. “No, no one’s forcing me to do it, I like doing it. I’m just—brushing your teeth is kind of a significant self-care thing, Omi.”

And suddenly Kiyoomi is so fucking tired. “Just leave it alone.”

“If it’s been so long that it hurts to chew, then I feel like I’m right to be worried.”

“It doesn’t hurt to chew.”

Atsumu sighs, and Kiyoomi loves him for caring, he does, but he didn’t—he didn’t ever want to have to have this conversation. He knows it’s disgusting. He’s perfectly well aware that it is. He also knows its unhealthy, and he knows that he should just go to a dentist who will tell him to stop being a disgusting fucking child and brush his teeth. Not in those exact words probably, but it would sting like that.

“Omi. Babe. Kiyoomi.” Atsumu steps forward, and Kiyoomi doesn’t react, doesn’t turn as Atsumu puts a hand at his elbow. “Why are you fighting me about this?”

“I’m not—”

“Kiyoomi.”

Atsumu is serious, drawing a hard line in the sand with just the tone of his voice. He actually wants to talk about this and Kiyoomi kind of wants to cry or lash out or storm off and he doesn’t know which of the three will hurt least.

“It’s disgusting,” he murmurs, low under his breath. He doesn’t think he actually wants Atsumu to hear it, doesn’t want him to know: know the truth of the mouth he kisses, know the shame of the boy he thinks he loves. “I know it is. You don’t have to tell me.”

Atsumu steps closer, moving to stand behind him and hooking his chin on his shoulder. “Didn’t catch that first part, baby. What do I not have to tell you?”

His words are suddenly achingly soft and crying is starting to seem like the best option. Kiyoomi doesn’t deserve this tenderness. His teeth hurt and he doesn’t deserve Atsumu’s kindness, much less this intimacy.

“I’m disgusting,” Kiyoomi says, louder, and his voice cracks. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

In the mirror, Kiyoomi sees as Atsumu lifts his head with the concern in his expression only growing. He puts his hands on Kiyoomi’s waist and guides him in spinning around so they face each other. “You aren’t disgusting.”

“I don’t remember,” Kiyoomi says quietly, “when the last time I brushed my teeth was. And now they’re—fucking rotting out of my mouth and you’re never going to want to kiss me again and—”

“Kiyoomi.” Atsumu doesn’t wait for him to finish panicking, cutting off the ramble before he can truly begin spiraling. “Breathe. You’re okay. Your mouth is not rotting and I am always—always—going to want to kiss you.”

Kiyoomi looks at him then, really, truly looks at him, at all of the worry and the love in the lines of his expression, and then he feels the tears start to spill over. He squeezes his eyes shut, suddenly feeling so fragile and so far past broken.

“I’m trying,” he chokes out. “But I’m—it’s—it’s gross and—”

“Breathe,” Atsumu says again, running his hands in smooth, even motions up and down Kiyoomi’s arms. “I’m not gonna deny that it’s kind of gross, baby. But it doesn’t make you disgusting and it is never, ever going to make me love you less. There is nothing you could do to make me love you less, no matter what habits you have or don’t have that I don’t get. Okay?”

Kiyoomi swallows. His voice small, he whispers, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Atsumu says firmly. “Do you want to talk to me about it now? For real, without lying?”

“I don’t know why it’s so hard,” Kiyoomi confesses. He’s staring at Atsumu’s mouth, at his unchapped lips and the gentle curve of a smile that perpetually rests there. “I know it’s disgusting and I know it’s unhealthy but I hate the sensation and so I can’t make myself do it. Despite being an adult and despite it—hurting. And the longer I wait, the worse it feels to try. And there’s blood and it hurts and—I can’t make myself do it, so I just don’t, and—and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Atsumu says first. He puts a hand on Kiyoomi’s cheek to wipe away some of the tears. At some point, he had stopped crying and now he’s left feeling like a small child worn out from a meltdown. “I’m just trying to understand. I’m not judging you.”

“You are,” Kiyoomi snaps, wrenching himself out of Atsumu’s grip. “Everyone does. Don’t think I don’t notice.”

Atsumu looks at him for a long, tense moment. Then, “And when have I ever been like everyone else? Omi, I just don’t want you to be in pain anymore.”

“I’m dealing with it.”

“You aren’t and you know it.” Atsumu takes a small step forward again, pressing Kiyoomi against the sink. He takes his hands and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “You’re so thorough in every health thing but this. What makes this so different?”

“I don’t know,” Kiyoomi murmurs, looking down at their clasped hands. Shame washes over him like a river, like muscle memory, like déjà vu. “It just hurts. Whether I do it or not. So I don’t. I’m sorry, please don’t—”

Atsumu hums a little, low in his throat and Kiyoomi cuts himself off. “Stop apologizing. I’m not upset with you. I just hate that you’re hurting and I can’t do anything about it.”

“It’s my own issue,” Kiyoomi mutters. “Consequences of my own actions. Lack of actions.”

Atsumu takes a slow breath. “Maybe, but I’m still going to be here for you. That’s kind of part of the deal of dating me, Omi. You’re stuck with me.”

Kiyoomi snorts. “Okay.”

“What if we do it at the same time every night?” Atsumu offers. “Together.”

“Maybe.” Kiyoomi shrugs noncommittally.

“It’s a yes or no question, babe.”

Kiyoomi takes a breath. Atsumu is smiling, hopeful with his stupid perfect teeth all on display. Kiyoomi kind of wants to kiss him but his own mouth is disgusting and so he doesn’t.

“It’s going to be gross,” Kiyoomi says. “There will be blood. There always is.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t want you to see me like that.” It’s murmured under his breath, low and unsure of itself. “All…gross.”

Atsumu lets go of his hands and puts his own hands to Kiyoomi’s cheeks again, cupping his face in his palms. For a moment, Kiyoomi is so small there, and so protected.

“Kiyoomi Sakusa,” Atsumu presses a kiss to his forehead, soft and cold. “I want to love you for the rest of my life. That means there will be moments when one or both of us do gross things, or embarrassing things. And none of it will change the fact that I love you. If brushing our teeth together will help get it done, I don’t care if I see any blood, or plaque, or old food, or whatever. I just want you to be healthy, and not hurting.”

“One time I did it, I cried myself hoarse,” Kiyoomi says. It’s plainly spoken, matter of fact, but even Kiyoomi can hear the insecurity in it. “It’s pathetic.”

“You watched me moan and groan for a week after I slipped and fell at a meet and greet in front of some fans. It was pathetic, and I know you still love me.”

“It’s dirty. Disgusting.”

“You held my hair back while I vomited for an hour after drinking too much with Bokuto. You were very brave and sweet about it, even if you made fun of me the entire next day. And you still love me.”

“It’s different.”

Atsumu sighs. He leans forward, resting their foreheads together gently. “Omi. Let me see you. Let me help you. It won’t change my opinion of you. Trust me.”

Kiyoomi makes eye contact for a long, quiet, heartbreak of a moment. Then, finding nothing but honesty and love in Atsumu’s gaze, he closes his own eyes. “I love you.”

“I know.” Atsumu’s breath is warm on his cracked lips. “So will you let me be with you on this?”

Kiyoomi exhales slowly, measured and controlled. He’s been wearing face masks more constantly than usual recently, and a not insignificant part of that is the desire to hide his teeth. And fuck, he’s tired of hiding, and he’s tired of his mouth aching, and he’s scared and he feels dirty and gross and—

“Omi?”

And Atsumu loves him. Is here with him, without shame. Just with love and care.

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi says quietly. “We have to do it now or I’ll never do it. But okay. Okay.”

When he opens his eyes, Atsumu is smiling. “Okay. Let’s do it then.”

#theo’s fav fics #strawbs #orange juice #GODDDDJFJFJFJF #eurydicees i am lying at your feet. your writing is like an iv to me i swear.#i understand kiyoomi sm here and it’s such a hard thing to admit esp around people you #… like yk #haikyuu #kiyoomi sakusa #GRHASHDJDJFJFJF

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