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Bokuto wakes up to almost absolute darkness while sandwiched between two warm bodies. He’s flinging himself over Kuroo’s still sleeping body in the next instant, because, holy shit, he’s going to be so late for work and his supervisor is going to give him the evil eye over the tops of her tortoiseshell frames. Because this is Bokuto’s life, he immediately takes an elbow to the gut.
It’s only as he’s wheezing and scrambling around the dark bedroom trying to find a work appropriate shirt does Bokuto realize that he’d just flung himself over Kuroo’s still sleeping form.
Kuroo is usually the one who has to get up at the asscrack of dawn, but today, Bokuto is the one who’s awake at an ungodly hour, half dressed and ready to go.
He’d completely forgotten that it was Sunday, and because the library didn’t open on Sundays, he didn’t have to show up at work today.
“You’re an awful influence,” Bokuto mutters to Kuroo as he looks around for the rest of his outfit and rubs his bruised tummy. Kuroo only sniffs and turns over in his sleep, his arms searching for something to cuddle and conveniently finding Akaashi the Part Time Blanket Makizushi after a few seconds.
Bokuto looks to the pile of discarded clothes next to the bed for a moment, before going to the closet and managing to wrestle out a pair of probably clean cargo shorts. No boxers had thrown themselves in his way during his search, so Bokuto shrugs as he puts the shorts on, stuffing his keys and wallet into one of his many pockets as he tiptoes out of the bedroom.
He can free ball it for a few hours until Akaashi does laundry.
Speaking of Akaashi, Bokuto takes a moment to look back and take in the sight of two of his favorite people sleeping the morning away. Kuroo’s got an arm and a leg wrapped around Akaashi, while his head is half-hidden from sight by a pillow he’s burrowed under once he couldn’t press his face into Bokuto’s chest awkwardly. Akaashi is sleeping on his back, the blankets he’s tangled himself in the same shade of black-blue as the bags under his eyes.
Bokuto makes sure to close the door real softly, so the two of them can sleep just a bit more. Once he’d woken up, he’d realized that he was starving, and there was absolutely no way he could get back to sleep now.
There’s still a breeze rushing around corners, threatening to raise goose bumps in the early morning light. It’s before the hot summer sun has had a chance to chase it away, so Bokuto snags a jacket from the pile of jackets living on the couch as he heads out of the apartment.
It’s a readily known fact that right before Akaashi comes home from his trips abroad, there will be nothing in the fridge.
Bokuto had already locked the door to the apartment and is whistling softly on his way to the grocery store a few blocks away when he realizes that he’s not just wearing any ol’ jacket, he’s wearing Kuroo’s old volleyball club jacket. In his defense, it had been dark, and he had been hungry. Besides, the jacket didn’t fit too poorly, the shoulders were a little tight but the length was just right. Bokuto tucks his hands into the pockets at its sides and smiles to himself as he walks through the automatically sliding doors.
One of the first things he does is pick out a bag small and sweet Fuji apples, the kind he knows that Akaashi likes to munch on while he looks over his spreadsheets very critically. Then he goes to pick up a carton of eggs for Kuroo, whose love for omurice would be embarrassing if he didn’t make it so earnestly.
By the time he’s walking to the checkout lane, Bokuto’s managed to fill his shopping basket with hopefully enough food to last them a few days.
The walk back home is short and uneventful, with Bokuto wondering if he should make breakfast and potentially burn down the kitchen with his cute and thoughtful gesture, or leave the cooking up to Kuroo.
He enters their apartment carefully so as not to let the front door scream too loudly and puts his bags of groceries on the kitchen counter, taking melon bread out of one of the bags to nibble on after he’s put everything into its proper place. Mackerel into the freezer. Fresh greens into the fridge.
He’s sitting at the kitchen table with a tablet, reading reviews for children’s books when Kuroo stumbles into the kitchen with his hair trying to fly to even ridiculous heights.
“G’morning,” Kuroo slurs, nearly hitting himself with the door of the fridge as he tries to open it and yawn at the same time. “Is that my jacket?”
“Good morning! Hehehe, it is. I didn’t even know until I was already a block away. Is red not my color?”
“No. No,” Kuroo says thoughtfully as he starts cracking eggs into a bowl after pulling a miraculously clean pan out from somewhere and putting it on the stove. “It looks good on you.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t encourage him. You don’t know how far he might take that compliment. Soon, all the clothes he owns will be red and it’ll be too late.”
“Keiji! I’m super humble!”
“Don’t lie. Your honesty is actually something I admire,” Akaashi says flatly as he walks into the kitchen.
It’s a small kitchen and three men pushing six feet who are broad around the shoulders besides makes it a tight fit, but they’ve had a lot of practice maneuvering around each other. It helps that they aren’t afraid to get up close and personal. Akaashi takes a seat at the table and Bokuto scoots his chair in to give Kuroo more room to cook. That results in their ankles clacking together as they both try to stretch their legs under the table at the same time.
“That’s not what you said last night, Keiji.” Kuroo snickers as he reheats three bowls worth of rice.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah!”
Akaashi sighs a sigh full of world weariness, but Bokuto notices how the bags under his eyes aren’t quite so bad when he is smiling quietly like that, a glimmer of satisfaction shining in his dark eyes like treasure winking at a passing ship from deep inside a hidden cove.
“I came home to have a good time, and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.”
Kuroo nearly burns the pan he was preparing to cook the eggs in as he leans over the counter to laugh. It’s such a bright laugh, and Bokuto thinks he might see real tears threatening to spill down Kuroo’s cheeks, but it’s hard to tell because his own eyes are brimming with them, his sides aching even as he tries to drag in another breath to laugh at Akaashi’s truly awful one liner. His gratified grin swims into view as Bokuto breathlessly raises his head to look at him from across the table.
“Holy fuck, I didn’t know you had Internet where you were stationed. Weren’t you struggling through the jungle getting your Indiana Jones on?”
Akaashi sniffs. “In this day and age even the jungle gives off Wi-Fi signals.”
Bokuto’s cheeks feel warm from smiling so much and his stomach aches like he just tried to do eighty sit ups in a minute. He wouldn’t want to trade this moment for any other one as Akaashi makes way for Kuroo to set all the food along with three pairs of chopsticks down.
“Sorry. This is the last clean anything,” Kuroo says unrepentantly as he gestures to the single plate piled high with rice, eggs, and ketchup.
“Weren’t you supposed to be on dish duty?” Bokuto was aiming for an accusatory tone, but he ended up sounding amused and very much in love, even to his own ears. See, he can be great at being honest and stuff.
“Is anyone ever on dish duty?” Kuroo asks in a flippant tone as Akaashi intones a solemn, “Thank you for the food.”