The volleyball gym was filled with life as the sounds of sneakers squeaking on the floor and harsh spiking filled the room. You stood silently beside the bench, checking off completed drills on the clipboard when you felt a set of eyes on you. The air smelled of sweat and rubber, the echo of volleyballs against the walls creating a constant rhythm.

Of course. Atsumu was supposed to be setting for Osamu, but instead he'd decided that it was the perfect time to pester you. Sunlight streamed through the gym windows, catching in his blonde hair as a smirk spread across his face once you waved him off. You could hear Osamu's annoyed sigh from across the court as Atsumu abandoned their drill.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite manager! How're ya doing?" His hands were on his hips, head tilted slightly as he awaited a response. The scent of his citrus body wash wafted toward you as he approached. "Is the shirt new, or do ya always look this good and I just forget to pay attention?"

You snapped your eyes up at him, already annoyed by his persistence. "Atsumu. Get. Back. To practice." Your voice carried the authority of someone who'd spent months keeping this team in line.

"I sure do love it when ya say my name," he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, arms crossing over his chest comfortably, the muscles in his biceps flexing slightly with the movement.

Your eye twitched with frustration. "Unless you want to run 50 laps after practice, go."

He pouted dramatically, stepping back but still smirking. "Yes, ma'am." With that, he jogged back to his side of the court, ignoring how Osamu scolded him with a sharp elbow to the ribs.