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skts / sakumiya | body swap au, suggestive & exhibitionism but not Rly nsfw it’s a good thing the twins both live in osaka, for a number of reasons, but it becomes most useful when they wake up in each other’s body.

when the immediate panic subsided, they had to figure themselves out. one day, hunkered down in atsumu’s apartment, scouring the internet for ways to put them back in the right bodies. by the end of the night and with no success, their efforts turn to what they’ll do tomorrow.
they both missed work thinking they could fix this quickly, but now they had to figure out how to pretend to be each other. at least temporarily. osamu calls out one more day at the restaurant, albeit unhappily, to instead join atsumu at practice.
“just cus ya think you’re more famous than me doesn’t make your job more important,” osamu grumbles, folding his arms over his chest. except atsumu watches his own mouth move, arms crossing over his chest in a decisively osamu-like manner. it’s uncanny.
“it ain’t that—you’re your own boss, you can afford t’call out again. coach is gonna kill me if i miss too much. if omi-kim doesn’t first.” osamu snorts, and though it’s atsumu’s own face it looks strange. they’ll have to work out the kinks of pretending to be each other.
it used to be easier, when they would swap places as kids, when they were around each other all the time. now they carry themselves differently, they’ve learned to be themselves without the other. they can’t quite play it off the same way.
and that’s without confusing interpersonal dynamics. atsumu—as osamu—convinces coach foster to allow him to stick around for practice with some cajoling. “he says he’s feelin’ better, but you know him… he’d rather just get back to playin’ volleyball no matter what.”
he’s here to keep an eye on osamu—as atsumu—and that’s all. that means he sits back while osamu has to pretend to be him in the locker room and on the court. he covers his face with osamu’s cap to hide his grimace. he’s certain osamu will do what he can to ruin his reputation.
the second osamu leaves the locker room he meets eyes with atsumu and grimaces. it isn’t a good sign—they’re 10 minutes into the day and there’s already cause for concern. “MYAA-SAM!!!” atsumu blinks, straightening up at the sound, and osamu half turns around himself.
bokuto is bounding across the court happily, waving his arms in the air. he waves back, trying not to second guess himself. does osamu /wave/ at people? probably, everyone does, but maybe he doesn’t. at least no one here knows him well enough to say. atsumu included it seems
it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth as he watches his team get ready for practice. both the fact that he isn’t out there with them, and the fact that he doesn’t know things about his brother. whether or not he waves is inconsequential, but he would have known 5 years ago.
he’s broken from his thoughts by the sound of a muffled yelp coming from—well osamu, but as atsumu. everyone’s doing partnered stretches, and osamu’s paired with omi-kun, as he should be, but when atsumu glances at them he catches omi’s hand a little lower than it should be.
just for a split second, so quick he might have missed it. “miya! if you’re really not feeling well enough for practice it’s okay to head home,” coach says, seeming to have heard the noise but not seen what caused it. “n-no, i’m good! just… stretching, y’know?”
atsumu narrows his eyes, watching far more closely now than he was before. his worries about his relationship can wait a few hours—now he’s got new worries. nothing else untoward happens during warm-ups, but both he and osamu seem to keep their guards up.
nothing untoward happens, but omi is certainly… touchier than normal. he notices it immediately, and osamu seems to too, but just accepts it. atsumu’s suspicious, but he can’t very well talk to omi about it as osamu. that’d be worse than osamu doing anything stupid as him.
the touches aren’t anything weird either, the same friendly pats and handshakes anyone else on the team would give, but it’s sakusa kiyoomi so it’s inherently weird. maybe he gives osamu an explanation, they share a couple quiet words, flashes of concern crossing omi’s face.
atsumu doesn’t hear what’s said, but osamu seems to make an effort not to be startled after that. until they do start to get… weird. if bokuto slapped his ass, atsumu wouldn’t think anything of it. watching omi do it from outside of his own body makes him short circuit.
osamu seems unperturbed, or at least is pretending to be. the glances he shoots atsumu scream “we’ll be talking about this later” but to be frank, atsumu has no clue what to say on the matter either. because after that, omi starts looking at /him/ too. or, him as osamu.
a pat on the ass, but he’s staring over at osamu. a hand lingers a little too long or finds itself pressed against a pec, and omi’s staring straight at him. atsumu wonders if osamu blushes as easily as he does, or if osamu’s body will react to his embarrassment like that.
there’s something hot about watching yourself get felt up by a teammate you’ve had a thing for for ages. there’s also something extremely awkward about knowing that the you being felt up is your brother in your body. this whole mess is giving him a headache just trying to keep
everything straight in his head, and omi’s only managing to make it spin more. atsumu watches with a perverse fascination as osamu pulls omi aside during a break to have a more private conversation. omi’s back is to the rest of the team, so they don’t see how he presses closer,
or where his hand ends up, but atsumu does. he can see omi’s long fingers tracing up his own thigh, just barely grazing over his dick. he wonders if his body is getting hard, and then tries to erase that thought because that’s osamu right now, not him.
he also won’t admit to the state he’s left osamu’s body in. they’re close to where atsumu sits, but not close enough for him to hear what they’re saying. he can see his own face is red, and osamu is sputtering, but omi’s hand continues creeping between them.
“—because my brother’s here.” he hears osamu hiss, and he’s unsure if he meant for atsumu to hear or not. either way he did, and now omi’s looking at him too, small smile on his face as he steps even closer to osamu. his hand doesn’t stop, slipping underneath the jersey osamu
wears, stroking over his sweat soaked skin where atsumu can’t see. he wishes he could. he wishes he could feel it. osamu looks panicked, and now he’s looking at him too, so atsumu finally makes his way over to them. only then does omi’s hand retreat, taking a step away.
“is there something you two wanted to tell me?” atsumu puts on his best stern osamu impression, staring omi down as best he can as he tries to pretend he isn’t intrigued by what’s going on. “well, s—“ osamu clears his throat. “omi-kun? you wanna take this one?” omi shrugs.
“how long have you two been swapped?” he’s staring straight at atsumu when he asks, and it startled both twins into silence. “what do you mean?” “i mean,” omi rolls his eyes. “how long has osamu-san been parading as you?” atsumu sputters, desperately grasping for words and
coming up blank. “you /knew/?” osamu hisses, and his tone is one atsumu knows well, but he’s never heard in his own voice before. he takes a step away. “of course.” “then why’d ya—“ osamu cuts himself off, grinding his teeth together. atsumu wants to ask him to stop.
“omi what the fuck—“ “we can talk about it another time,” omi interrupts, turning away. “when you’re both back to normal.” both twins stand and stare as he walks away, all the way over to coach foster. they can guess what he’s telling him, and when coach sighs and walks over
atsumu knows it’s over. “sakusa said he and osamu-san agreed it’s time for you to head home.” foster folds his arms, giving osamu—as atsumu—a once over. “i agree, you’re not at your best miya. it’s fine, go home.” both twins thank him, and make quick work of leaving.
“‘coach is gonna kill me’” osamu mocks as they leave. “and he didn’t! if we ain’t fixed by tomorrow we’re going to my shop, and maybe /you/ can be the one that gets groped all day long.” “by who? the grannies that fawn over ya? or are ya gettin’ on with your staff?” “shaddup.”
they’re silent for a while as they head home, both lost in their own thoughts before osamu interrupts again. “if you were seein’ sakusa ya could’ve told me.” “i’m not.” atsumu grumbles, uncomfortable and embarrassed, and maybe a little disappointed by that fact himself.
osamu hums. it comes off strange, like he’s used to a lower range but it comes off a little higher in atsumu’s voice. “he implied ya were, that uh… that was normal.” “nah, never happened before.” “huh.” osamu leaves it that, but atsumu knows he has more thoughts on the matter
he’s sure they’ll come back to bite him later, if osamu decides to get revenge. for now, atsumu just really wants them to get back to their own bodies. for one extra reason now. fin.
idk this was just a silly little thought i had :) that is all
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