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“Tell me why we’re doin’ this again?” Atsumu asks as he paces his common area of the Jackal’s dormitory with his iPhone tucked in between his ear and chin. His hands are currently occupied with Animal Crossing—while he does love chatting with Shouyou, complete island renovations take time and he’s confident he can multitask. There’s a sigh from the other end of line and Atsumu smiles to himself as the villager version of himself digs up flowers from his beach. In his mind’s eye, he can see Shouyou’s exasperated grimace at Atsumu’s inability to remember logistics. 


How stinkin’ cute. 


“Okay I’m going to say this one more time—The Ministry of Foreign Affairs wants the members of the National Team to do a group photo shoot before the Olympic games with their international and national team jerseys for an advertisement so they can be all ‘LOOK WE’RE SO COOL OUR TEAM IS LEGIT! DO YOUR BEST AND SUPPORT US AND THE GAMES!’ and stuff like that,” Shouyou’s voice rattles off. How he can make the dumbest of tasks sound so interesting is a complete mystery to Atsumu. Then again, Shouyou has always been good at catching Atsumu’s fleeting attention—it’s why their long distance relationship can even work in the first place. How sappy can he get, right? Forever doomed to be enthralled by orange hair and a larger-than-life smile (with a wicked spike). Honestly, there are worse fates he could suffer through. 


“I see,” Atsumu muses as tiny Animal Crossing Atsumu plants purple windflowers next to one of the sheep’s houses. 


“Yeah, everyone is going to be there,” Shouyou continues, “Bokuto-san, Ushiwaka, Kageyama-kun, Omi-san, Tooru-kun–” 


Atsumu stops pacing and pauses his game. He grabs his phone before it slips from his shoulder and onto the floor.


“Wait. Whose was that last name ya mumbled?” For a second, he thought he heard Shouyou say the name of someone who is 1) not on the national team and b) not even a Japanese citizen anymore. 


“Ah!” Shouyou’s voice is suddenly about two octaves higher, “I said Oikawa-san is going to be in the photo shoot as well.” 


Atsumu clenches his cellphone.


Fuckin’ Argentina. 


“Why is he invited?!” Atsumu gripes, not caring how his voice also sounds too much like a displeased squeal. 


“Well… he was born in Japan, and I may have put in a special request to have him included, since we’re all going to be here for the games anyway.” 


Atsumu can’t believe he’s in love with a traitor. 


“Don’t ya think it’s suspicious that he wants to be involved in this photoshoot, when he’s playin’ fer another team?” Atsumu sits on the common area’s couch with a huff and sets down his Switch—the island renovation will have to wait. 


“Not really. But, I’m not gonna lie, it’s a little suspicious that you care so much. Is there something you’d like to tell me?”


A lump lodges itself in Atsumu’s throat. He’s honestly got nothing against Oikawa—the Miyagi native is a nice enough guy and is an incredible player. It’s just… Well, Oikawa and Shouyou had a thing back in Brazil, and while Atsumu will never admit out loud that he is the jealous type, he absolutely, one hundred percent is. 


“Nah, I have nothing to hide,” Atsumu says, disgruntled, crossing his arms and pursing his lips. 


“Okay, Tsumu, whatever you say. Just make sure you don’t challenge him to a pushup contest like you did to Kageyama at the Adler’s game.” 


“Hey! I needed to know who could do more reps for science!” Atsumu protests. That pushup contest was totally legit and Shouyou knows it! There was no way he was going to let Hoshiumi make the audacious claim to Shouyou that Kageyama was a stronger setter than he was. He needed to protect his honor and prove to everyone (read: his boyfriend) that he could do more pushups than Cardboard King Kageyama, therefore making him the stronger setter. 


“You’re too much sometimes,” Shouyou laughs, tickling the inside of Atsumu’s ear and making him forget about how peeved he was not even two seconds ago. Another side effect of Shouyou—when the sun shines, so does Atsumu. “Just make sure you behave during the shoot, kay?”


“Hmmm,” Atsumu grumbles and picks up his game, returning to tending his flowers. 


“Atsumu-san,” Hinata says in a way that mocks sternness but also doesn’t fail at making Atsumu feel like he’s being scolded.


“Ugh, fine. I promise,” Atsumu says and rolls his eyes. “But if Argentina starts shit with me, I can’t be held liable fer my actions.” 


Atsumu can practically hear Shouyou’s eyes roll over the phone. “I know babe, I know.” Good thing Atsumu can also hear his loving smile too. 




When Atsumu shows up to the gymnasium where the photoshoot is taking place, he may or may not be a little hungover. It’s not entirely his fault—Samu’s onigiri joint just got a liquor license. Naturally, where there’s free drinks, there’s Atsumu. And someone had to tell Samu that you can’t just mix vodka with any drink and call it a cocktail! He was honestly doing his brother a favor and saving him from total embarrassment. 


So yeah, he’s got a headache and his skin feels like it’s going to fall off—but other than that, he’s ready to take some pictures, look hot, and see his boyfriend for the first time in literal months. 


He isn’t even in the gym yet and he can already hear that melodious laughter—it never fails to make his heart drop into his ass—on the other side of the double doors. God, he's missed Shouyou so much. The only thing Atsumu wants to do right now is hold Shouyou tight and squeeze all the sunshine out of him—absorbing it into his bloodstream. There’s no better cure for a hangover than embracing your boyfriend.


When he opens the gymnasium doors, all his friends are standing in a group near a small prop volleyball net and four-light setup. Even though he can’t see his boyfriend among the crowd, he can still hear his voice carrying over all the others, shouting something about pickled radishes. 


“Okay, but have you tried melanzane a scapece ? Pickled eggplant is the way to go!” Another, slightly unfamiliar, voice chimes in. 


Ah shit, he’s here.


Sure enough, as Atsumu walks closer to the group, he sees Oikawa with his stupid smirk and pristine, blue jersey. His arm is slung casually around Shouyou’s shoulder—laughing along with the group. There’s an evil part of his mind that thinks ‘that should be me, my arm should be around Shouyou, not his,’ because after all, Shouyou is his boyfriend. 


But before he can make some sort of zippy remark at Oikawa’s expense, an open palm connects with his back, knocking the wind out of him. “Well, looks like you finally showed up, Miya-kun!” Hoshiumi shouts. The evil voice in Atsumu’s head is gone and all that’s left is Samu’s monotone, saying ‘ this is what you get for even thinking about being a wise-ass.’ 


“Uwah! Atsumu is here!” Shouyou says,  immediately shrugging Oikawa’s arm off of his shoulder and rushing to meet Atsumu, who is now doubled over and attempting to catch his breath. 


“Hey babe, I’ve missed you,” Atsumu wheezes, clutching his stomach. 


“Aw, I’ve missed you too!” Shouyou says as he helps Atsumu to his feet—slinging Atsumu's arm over his shoulder where it belongs and planting a fat kiss on Atsumu’s cheek when he’s steady. “Come say hi to everyone!” 


“Well, I’ve already said hi to Hoshiumi.” Atsumu shoots a murderous look at the white-haired devil who just blows a raspberry in response. 


“Tsum-Tsum! You’re alive!” Bokuto sobs and rushes to Atsumu’s free side to give him a tight, and unhelpful, hug. 


“Looks to me like it’s just barely,” Sakusa points out with an amused smirk as Bokuto wrings the life out of Atsumu. 


“He’s a funny one, isn’t he?” Oikawa chuckles as Ushijima nods in agreement. 


“You have no idea,” Kageyama rolls his eyes. 


“Alright, gentlemen! We need to start the shoot now that everyone is here! Let’s get to our places!” The head photographer shouts into her megaphone, cutting all conversation off short. 


She places the men to stand in a loose clump facing away from the volleyball net. Hoshiumi and Bokuto in the front, while Sakusa, Ushijima, and Kageyama stand in the back closest to the net. In the middle, Atsumu and Oikawa flank Shouyou on both sides. 


“Just talk to each other and act natural!” she says, as she crouches down and turns her camera on. “The pictures will look best if you all pretend I’m not even here.” 


The dull throb in his head makes the urge to be an asshole so strong, but Atsumu doesn’t want to piss anyone off this early in the morning. So instead, he decides he’s going to play coy. Asshole-lite.


“So… Who are ya again?” he asks Oikawa, and rests his arm on Shouyou’s shoulder, leaning in ever so slightly. 


There’s a glimmer of interest in Oikawa’s brown eyes, the spark of a challenge. “You know, I could have sworn we’d met before, but now I’m not entirely sure? The name’s Oikawa Tooru, I play for Argentina.” 


“Oooooh,” Atsumu says, long and drawn out. “So ya play for Argentina? How did ya even get invited here, then? Are ya even Japanese?” His banter spills from his lips like honey. Delicious, smarmy-brand honey that, by the looks of Oikawa’s curling smirk, is being bought at the top-shelf price. 


“Atsumu, don’t be rude!” Shouyou butts in as the camera lights flash. 


“That’s great gentlemen, keep it up!” The photographer says, and looks at the digital version of the picture on her camera. 


“Oh, don’t worry Shouyou-kun, he’s not bothering me at all. In fact, I rather like his attitude.” Oikawa’s voice is just as syrupy-sweet, and it makes Atsumu’s stomach flop despite the downright ugly face he’s making. Why is Oikawa making his stomach flop? This should not be happening right now! They’re supposed to be rival setters, both vying for Shouyou’s attention! Not flirting with each other! However, he can’t stop himself from playing into it. Oikawa’s horny aura is too strong to resist. 


That, and it’s making his headache go away, so he might as well chase the feeling. 


“Where do ya get off callin’ my spiker by his first name?” Atsumu raises an eyebrow, throwing it right back, just as the camera clicks and lights flash again.


Oikawa’s eyes lower and his smirk spreads dangerously. “Oh, I can show you where I get off, Atsumu-kun. You wouldn’t mind, would you, Shouyou?” He snakes his arm around Shouyou’s shoulder one more time and pulls their bodies close.


Fuck, this guy doesn’t beat around the bush, does he?


“Ah! I’m not s-sure!?” Shouyou yelps.  His cheeks and the tips of his ears are starting to turn pink. Atsumu immediately knows he’s into this, too, and it changes everything.


Atsumu rests his head in the crook of Shouyou’s neck and whispers into his ear, “I bet he won’t mind if we bring him along. What do you say, Shouyou-kun? Do ya wanna see where Mr. Argentina gets off?” He makes sure to pull back just enough to catch those leering brown eyes on the other side of Shouyou. 


“D-don’t you think we should be having this conversation after the photo shoot?” Shouyou says weakly, shivering like a novice trapped between two sex demons ready to steal his soul. 


“I agree with Hinata,” Kageyama sighs from behind. “You three have too much energy this early in the morning.” 


“Yeah, shouldn’t you guys have fucked this out of your system like, I don’t know, yesterday or something!?” Hoshiumi says, unprompted. 


“I think it’s nice that they’re getting along,” Ushijima adds. 


“You would think it’s nice, Wakatoshi-kun,” Sakusa sighs in defeat. 


“Aw, let them have their fun! Threesomes aren’t a common occurrence, who are we to stifle their fun? Plus, technically, they’re following directions and pretending like the photographer isn’t even here!” Bokuto cheers, giving tres horny boys a thumbs-up of approval. 


“Bokuto-san!” Atsumu, Oikawa, and Shouyou shout at the same time, mortified as the camera bulb flashes.