Work Text:
He was already there by the time Akaashi got to the library, slipping through the front door - making his way behind the circulation desk and to his usual station. During what would normally and ought to be a slow shift, that guy would linger just out of the corner of Akaashi’s eye. His wild hair and smooth smirk were like a warning. But whenever Akaashi tried to look harder, to gain a little insight into this troublesome customer - he would slip into the stacks, vanishing like some ancient, practiced art.
Their first conversation came on a Thursday, the world outside wet and cold. Raindrops raced down the windows and hit the roof hard. When Akaashi looked up from his homework, from behind the circulation desk, he caught sight of bedhead and cat-like eyes - shifting his weight from side to side and looking down on Akaashi more. A thin smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Hi,” he said, and held out a student ID card. “I have a book on hold.”
They weren’t supposed to remember people’s details. But Akaashi couldn’t help himself. And the more he looked, between the card and at Kuroo Tetsurou, back and forth - he could taste the name on his lips, rough and sweet and taking the air right out of his lungs.
Akaashi swallowed a hard lump down his throat. He acted like it hadn’t happened. “One second.”
He fetched the book, checked it out to Kuroo, and the two went on their merry ways. Or so Akaashi would have figured. Because he would have never been able to foresee Kuroo’s continued patronage - week after week, book after book, until Akaashi had learned the characters of his name by heart and where they belonged on the bookshelf. He found Kuroo lingering longer in his vision, through the umber colors of autumn and the first snowfall of winter, the one that got everyone whipping out their hats and scarves. They scurried along through campus, hunched and in a hurry. And yet Kuroo would always saunter, especially whenever he thought Akaashi was looking, and even when he didn’t know he was being watched.
December was almost over when Akaashi blinked once, behind the circulation desk. And then he could feel it, there was no doubt about it, he could sense it in the atmosphere and how it changed with Kuroo around - like an imprint on his skin and a brand on his soul.
“I need help,” said Kuroo, “finding a book.”
He pushed a slip of paper across the desk. Akaashi took it and noted the call number - took stock of the situation, and how his coworker was manning the desk, too, just a couple meters away. She was perfectly capable of holding down the fort.
Akaashi got up. “Follow me,” he said, and then he was out from behind the desk, out into public space and the sphere of Kuroo’s influence. He could hear Kuroo fall into step just behind him, breathing lightly, warmth radiating off his body and reaching Akaashi through the air. It made him shiver despite the radiators, blasting heat into every corner of the library.
They made it to the shelves, walking through the stacks - to the call number location Kuroo had wanted and the words that waited there for them. It was quiet here. No one else was looking for a book - they were at the computer banks, or on their laptops, or working in groups at round tables, oblivious to Akaashi and Kuroo.
“It isn’t here,” said Akaashi, and squatted down. He skimmed the spines more. But even so, he could not be sure of what he was looking for, in the first place. ‘Was that - are you sure that number was right?”
“Positive.”
When Akaashi looked up at him, he was grinning.
“You can’t find it?” asked Kuroo, arms crossed over his chest, leaning back and standing with all his weight on one side. His gaze had fallen down, fixed on Akaashi, a force that required an equal reaction. “But I thought you knew everything about the library.”
Akaashi’s heart panged once. He drew himself up to his full height and swallowed again. Heat prickled through his body and settled in the apples of his cheeks.
It was too late to pretend this wasn’t happening. But that would be fine, wouldn’t it? He would be professional, as always. He would go through his script with Kuroo: Sorry, I couldn’t find the book, I can check the library system for one. They would go through all the formalities, back at the circulation desk. They would exchange a few words and then be on their way. It would all be so easy.
But before Akaashi could think to put any of this into motion - before he could even say anything - Kuroo leaned towards him in one quick motion, and pressed his lips to Akaashi’s pink cheek. It barely lasted a second. And yet it stole his breath clean away, wiping his mind of thoughts and what he would have said. The books around them were an impartial witness, quiet as always, when Kuroo took a step back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Thank you for your trouble,” he said, with a different sort of smile on his face. It needed time to settle in. The edges had gone soft and his eyes had lost their hard glimmer. Akaashi had never seen anything like it before, and he realized he might never again, with how Kuroo had already started to walk away. His long strides had lost all traces of a saunter.
“Wait,” Akaashi called out to Kuroo’s back, until Kuroo himself turned around, the two of them regarding each other in that narrow space. “I - I can check again.”
Kuroo didn’t move. “You sure?”
“Of course,” said Akaashi, and put one hand on the books beside him. He made sure to keep his voice even and low. “What kind of person would I be, coming all this way with nothing to show for it?”
He couldn’t look away now, not that he would have thought to. He let his eyes linger on Kuroo’s lips and he didn’t try to hide it.
“Nothing to show for it?” Kuroo echoed him, and laughed once, a loud sound in the otherwise quiet stacks. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”
He let his hand slide into Akaashi’s, their fingers interlocking bit by bit. It was silent between them. Akaashi opened his mouth to speak, but his words had gotten caught in his throat. But for what he could not vocalize, he found himself fully taking in the sight of Kuroo, filling up his vision and long past lingering.
Kuroo leaned in again, warm and smelling like soap. When Akaashi closed his eyes, he could feel the tips of Kuroo’s hair tickling his cheek. His lips were even softer than they looked. The quiet seemed to stretch out into one long moment, there between the bookcases, where the dark and the stillness were a gift. He never wanted to let them go.