Thread by @meekswrites

I know I wrote a fic that is the opposite of this, but this is what I really want:

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*Stay*
#sakuatsu FWB
(Again, you ask? Same question over here, friends.)

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Atsumu swings his legs off the bed, still breathing hard, running his hands through his hair to tame it where Sakusa had been pulling, keeping him still, steady through their release.

He looks over his shoulder and smiles.

Then he bends down for his jeans, tracking his eyes ahead at the trail of clothes that lead toward his exit. His smile slips as he pulls his shirt over his head.

When Atsumu looks back, he catches that familiar irritated expression on Sakusa's face and feels his heart trip.

Sakusa pushes up onto his elbows as he watches Atsumu quickly do up the zip and button of his pants.

Under that heavy gaze, Atsumu searches for his socks with that quick game-play adrenaline suddenly coursing through his veins.

"Where the hell are you going?" Sakusa snaps. He pushes all the way up to sit against the headboard, indifferent to his own nakedness even though Atsumu's completely dressed now.

"Home," Atsumu replies, forcing a smile.

But in his tone is a question that inadvertently seeps in, the uncertainty about the right answer when he’d thought he knew all the answers to this - to them - already.

He spins slowly in place. He can’t find his fucking socks.

When he next glances up, Sakusa’s frown deepens. “Sorry, I’ll leave the socks,” he says.

“What?” Sakusa says, his voice strangely loud as Atsumu heads to the door. “Atsumu.”

He hears the rustle of sheets, footsteps sticking on the ground. He freezes when Sakusa comes up behind him. Hands slide around his waist and ruck up his shirt to meet skin. Fingertips depress into his hip bones as if to keep him still.

“I’m goin’,” Atsumu says, but his voice is quieter now, a different question there in the upward lilt of his tone.

And the answer is in the gentle hands that press and pull until Atsumu turns back around, until he steps back into the strength of Sakusa’s body, meets again the lips that open beneath his own.

His clothes become a trail once more, but one that leads back to the warmth of a bed big enough for two, shared already, but perhaps available to be shared again.

“Stay,” Sakusa says, as if actions hadn’t already been the answer Atsumu hadn’t known was available to him.

“Sure, Omi,” Atsumu says, as if his every question wasn’t an appeal to take him back, to let him in, to keep /Sakusa/ too, still, always.

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Why can't I write scenes for my actual WIPs? Why? Maybe this can become a fic later.

I just want Atsumu to think he's not welcome, and Sakusa to tell him he's an idiot, even if he doesn't quite say the words. And I want Atsumu to /feel/ it. Welcome.

Sigh.