The Art of Not Courting

“I’m so sorry, Sacchan. I didn't mean to worry ya, bug.” She lets herself get lifted higher up, where she buries her head in Atsumu's neck, close to his scent gland, inhaling his scent of ginger, which has returned to normal. “I was just upset, nothin’ else. We’re safe,” he murmurs and rubs comforting circles into her back. Sayori sighs, her little fingers fisted into the towel still around Atsumu's neck. The change in scent from the alpha in the room is forgotten, as the omega concentrates on calming down the little girl in his arms.“Sorry, Omi. I didn't mean to make her cry.”“She’s asleep,” Sakusa whispers. He doesn’t even admonish Atsumu for making his daughter cry, he just keeps staring. “She’s never fallen asleep on anyone that isn’t family.”