Crazy | Osamu x Reader
Ft. Atsumu
Atsumu feels like he’s going crazy.
“I swear to you, they are,” he says, trying his best to keep his composure despite his teammates’ growing, and annoying disinterest.
“I don’t know,” Hinata replies, polite but impartial. “Osamu doesn’t seem like that kinda guy.”
“We’re twins, so I’m telling ya right now, he can be just as bad as me.” Atsumu huffs, crossing his arms as Hinata raises an eyebrow.
There’s only a beat of silence before it suddenly hits him that he’s just badmouthed himself. He flushes before mumbling, “Forget it. Sorry for bothering ya.”
Before he can change the topic, Hinata stops him with a hesitant hand on his arm.
“Wait, wait, hold on. Just, start over from the beginning,” Hinata says, a little awkward but well-meaning. “Why do you think your brother is dating his only employee?”
‘There are too many damn reasons.’ Is Atsumu’s first thought, and the same one he swallows down as he forces himself to mirror Hinata’s earlier thoughtfulness.
“He’s so nice now,” Atsumu says, scowling. He thinks back to all the times he and Osamu used to go at it over the smallest things.
Hinata laughs, clearly amused. “Yeah, but he’s always been the nicer twin.”
“Yeah well, not like this,” Atsumu grumbles, thinking back to your first day at the restaurant.
When he met you, Osamu’s first ever employee, there wasn’t any of the weird tension between you and his brother that he could feel now. He was just your boss and you were just his employee, both professional and still a little awkward around each other.
“You sure know how to pick ‘em.” Atsumu had joked, your looks having been one of the first things he noticed.
“Shut it.” Osamu grumbled, clearly overwhelmed having to train someone new when he’d barely figured out what he was doing himself.
Atsumu had found it endlessly amusing watching his brother struggle to share his personal space. He needed the help, desperately, but it also meant letting someone else into his kitchen and by association, life.
For your first day, you did incredible. Seriously, if Atsumu hadn’t been there to witness himself he would’ve never believed someone could hold themselves together so well. The more Osamu seemed to crumble, the more you pulled it together: a true dream team.
“Please keep takin’ care of him.” Atsumu had teased, jokingly bowing before saying his goodbyes and leaving you both to finish up your work. Back then, he was completely clueless to the chemistry brewing between you and his brother; one that went beyond the workplace.
-
The first real hint he picked up on was an inside joke. Honestly, he doesn’t even remember the punchline, just how he felt seeing the two of you laugh without him. He was having a quick lunch and paused mid-chew, glancing over at his brother with an expectant look.
“It’s nothing.” Osamu tells him, and the way he’s still smiling like some kinda idiot confuses him more than irritates him. Still, he brushes it off then because it is nothing. Or at least, it was. Until it became two, then three, and then a whole bunch of ‘jokes’ he couldn’t wrap his head around and ‘Samu still refused to explain.
“They have like, inside jokes.” Atsumu grumbled and Hinata laughs.
“The whole team has inside jokes.” He says, rationalizing what he clearly sees as Atsumu’s irrationality almost effortlessly.
“No it’s different, it’s not platonic like us.” He explains, motioning between the two of them as if to emphasize his point.
The two of them had grown pretty close, whether it was because of their positions as setter and spiker or their personalities was anyone’s guess. Regardless, his innocent friendship with Shoyo wasn’t anything like whatever the hell was going on between you and his brother.
He suddenly starts to reminisce on all the different occasions he had stopped by and gotten a glimpse of your blossoming bond.
-
He was only at the restaurant because Ma asked him to drop off some paperwork for Osamu, something about taxes but he hadn’t bother too much with the details. He figures he’ll get a free onigiri out of it, so he’s not complaining.
It’s slow when he walks in. Just a couple people left, it’s the tail end of the lunch rush going into the dead hours. He spots you behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, laughing at something Osamu’s saying in that all-too-familiar voice Atsumu grew up listening to.
He’s halfway to tossing the folder onto the nearest table when he hears it:
“Don’t forget about your grandma’s pickled onions,” you call over your shoulder, casual as anything.
Atsumu freezes mid-step.
You don’t even notice him, just mindlessly wipe down the counter like you didn’t just say something that should’ve been a secret.
Atsumu stands there, folder dangling from his fingers. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Nothing can come out.
Because…how the hell would you know about the pickled onions?
That wasn’t small talk. That was…private talk. Intimate stuff. Family stuff.
He swallows it down, slapping the folder onto the table harder than necessary. Osamu shoots him a look, but doesn’t say anything.
Atsumu doesn’t either. Not yet at least.
-
Back in the present, he rubs a hand over his face, trying to explain himself without sounding jealous.
Because he’s not jealous. He’s just… curious. About you, about Osamu, about your relationship. About why ‘Samu hadn’t told him anything yet.
He knows they had probably grown apart with Osamu being a full time business owner and his own career as an athlete, but still. They were family, brothers; twins.
“She knew about the pickled onions Shoyo,” he mutters.
His stomach churns at the thought, and he’s annoyed at himself for even caring what a hard ass like ‘Samu even did with his life.
“Onions?” Hinata repeats, cocking his head.
“Yeah. Pickled onions,” Atsumu repeats, sharper than he means to. He drags a hand through his hair, frustration prickling under his skin.
Hinata doesn’t say anything, just leans forward a little, waiting, patient as ever.
“It’s not just that,” Atsumu mutters. “It’s—everything.”
He throws his hands up, voice getting louder before he can stop it. “It’s so obvious somethings going on.”
And it sounds dramatic but it’s true. The next time he stops by the store on one of his rare free days, you two are practically glued at the hip.
-
“Atsumu, welcome in.” You say, and he can’t even stay mad at you when you say his name so sweetly. The cute smile on your face doesn’t hurt either. He suddenly feels like he’s too aware of just how good you looked up close.
Osamu seems to read his mind, greeting him in his own way with a hard flick to the forehead.
“Hey, unprofessional.” He whines, going to soothe the stinging between his brows.
“Are ya ordering something or just here to loiter?” His brother asks, a little too protectively for someone who’s just supposed to be a manager.
“Two of my usual please.” He says, taking a seat right up front to keep on eye on you two.
When you go to make him his order, Osamu stops you by gently nudging your shoulder with his own as he walks by to make it himself, ignoring Atsumu’s complaints that he wanted his ‘favorite’ employee to do it instead.
“You guys are so funny.” You comment, trying to make conversation which makes Atsumu perk up a bit.
“Really? Never thought of ‘Samu as a funny guy, just rude.” He responds, saying the last word loud enough for his brother to hear in the back of the kitchen.
You laugh again, a sound that’s light and inviting. He can’t tell if you’re being nice cause he’s a customer or because he looks just like your manager. Regardless, it feels nice to be in your presence. For a moment, he thinks he can understand why his brother hired you to begin with.
It makes his heart drop in a funny way, the feeling that you were being kept a secret. If you were important to ‘Samu then you’d definitely matter to him too. Didn’t his brother know that?
“I know he’s my boss so it sounds like I’m kissing ass but, he can actually be pretty nice.” You say, and even though the compliment is plain the way your eyes shine with something makes Atsumu raise an eyebrow.
“Did he get ya that pin for your hat?” He asks innocently, having noticed it when he first walked in but not having gotten a chance to comment on it till now. Honestly, he made the connection on a whim and expected you to say no.
“Huh?” You squeak out, clearly surprised he had pointed it out. The way you tensed up and averted his eyes has him widening his own.
“Oh yeah, he did.” You mumble out, a little too shyly. Like you had just been caught. Upon closer inspection, he can see the smallest tinge of red on the tip of your ears.
Atsumu blinks. Then squints. Then leans in a little, like somehow getting closer to you might make you more honest.
“You’re blushin’,” he points out with a grin, almost sing-songy.
“I am not,” you huff, quickly busying yourself by wiping down a spotless part of the counter. It’s the weakest cover-up he’s ever seen which just makes it even funnier.
Osamu finally returns with Atsumu’s food, sliding it across the counter with a short, “Here.”
“Hold on. Ya bought her a gift?”
Osamu doesn’t even flinch. “Employee appreciation.”
“Employee appreciation, my ass!” Atsumu whines, pointing at the way you’re basically trying to sink through the floor. “When have ya ever appreciated me?”
“I haven’t,” Osamu says, so flat it makes you exhale against your will.
Atsumu gasps, hand going over his chest like he’s been mortally wounded. He then leaves just as dramatically, doing his best not to scream that you’re both terrible liars as he walks back home.
-
Back in the present, he suddenly grabs Hinata’s shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts as that specific memory resurfaces.
“He bought her a gift.” He says, dead serious, like he’s delivering life-or-death news.
Hinata just laughs again. “He’s gotten me a gift.”
“Food doesn’t count as a gift, Shoyo!” Atsumu whines, and to his immense relief, Hinata actually looks like he might agree with him this time.
“Ugh, whatever. I’m just being a creep anyway,” Atsumu grumbles, suddenly drained by the conversation he himself had started.
But Hinata doesn’t let drop it. “What if you noticed it before they did? You’ve got super insane senses when it comes to people on court, maybe it’s the same off of it too.”
Of course sweet, innocent Shoyo would find a way to tie this mess back to volleyball.
Though, to his credit, they were sitting in the gym post-practice, both waiting for a ride from Osamu.
“Maybe,” Atsumu mutters, and right then he hears the gym doors creak open.
He looks up, expecting to see Osamu waltz in with his usual lazy wave.
Instead though, he sees you.
He feels his mouth go dry as Hinata keeps talking beside him, his words dissolving into meaningless noise.
“What’re ya doin’ here?” Atsumu calls out, his voice sharp with surprise, forgetting his manners entirely.
You flinch, like you hadn’t expected to be called out so quickly, and Atsumu immediately regrets the way the words came out. He’s just… shocked.
Because why were you here? And why were you wearing Samu’s jacket?
“Oh my god. You were right,” Hinata chokes, half-laughing beside him, recognizing the worn out Ongiri Miya branding on the jacket almost immediately. A staple in Osamu’s wardrobe.
You shift awkwardly under their combined stares, clearing your throat before speaking.
“I’m here to pick you up. ‘Samu got held up,” you explain, flustered, too flustered to realize you’d called his brother by the same casual nickname Atsumu always used.
“And this—” you tug at the hem of the jacket, grimacing, “was actually not my first fashion choice.”
You start to shrug it off, like you’re desperate to shed the evidence, but both teammates jump to stop you.
“I know,” Atsumu says quickly, hands up in surrender, his mind racing a mile a minute. “He forced ya.”
And for a second, it’s like he’s a kid again, watching Osamu pile his love onto the people he cared about, whether they liked it or not. It had always been easier for him to show it rather than say it.
And now, here you were. Wearing it. Showing him. The most obvious message one could send.
It should’ve been cathartic, relieving but instead, it just felt disappointing. Since when did him and his brother stop sharing everything? Probably a long time ago but you felt worth mentioning.
But then you spoke up, like it wasn’t a big deal.
“You know… it’s kinda because of you, ‘Tsumu.”
He blinks at you, slow. “Because of me?” The way you say his nickname has him feeling nervous, like you already knew more about him than you let on.
Probably cause of Osamu. He thinks to himself.
You nod, like it’s obvious. “You kept coming around, poking your nose in everything… if you hadn’t, I don’t think we would’ve ever realized we were being so weird.”
Atsumu lets out a weak scoff, not sure if he should feel offended or proud of his observations.
At least he wasn’t going crazy after all.
“Ya well, yer welcome.” He mutters, scratching the back of his neck. He wants to ask if his brother ever talks about him. If he ever says he misses how things he used to be. If he ever misses him.
“Wait—I wanted to show you something.” You say, reaching into the pocket of the jacket as he and Hinata exchanged a curious look.
“Don’t tell ‘Samu.” You say, half-joking but both teammates nod in agreement, having faced his wrath before.
You pull out a folded napkin, opening it up to reveal scribbled and messy handwriting. Osamu’s handwriting.
On it is a list of dates and times, which he doesn’t recognize at first. Was this another inside joke?
“Oooohhhh, it’s our upcoming matches!” Hinata exclaims and the realization makes Atsumu’s chest ache in a quiet way.
He stares at the napkin for a bit longer, thinking about how he must’ve written them all down every time he had visited the restaurant to chat. The same days he thought his brother hadn’t been listening at all.
“Idiot,” he mumbles, voice a little rough. He clears his throat before speaking again, “Please keep takin’ care of him.” The softness and sincerity has you and Hinata exchanging a look of your own.
“Of course.” You reply, placing your hand over his arm and giving him a light squeeze. He feels awkward having you comfort him but he also feels better, lighter even.
“Didn’t know my little bro was such a big fan.” He teased, trying to take attention away from him and back to the napkin in his hands.
“‘Little bro’? But he said you were the younger twin.” You stated, tilting your head to the side.
“What?” Atsumu deadpanned.
Silence.
He blinks. Once. Twice.
“That bitch.”