Work Text:
.Plush
i.
For reasons beyond Akaashi’s comprehension, Bokuto has been extremely energetic for the past hour. Not the usual energy where the captain is in everyone’s personal business—especially Akaashi’s—and invading Konoha’s bubble without second thought (not that the other senior ever seems to mind)… but, he’s been talking non-stop since the graduation ceremony.
Akaashi isn’t even sure what he’s talking about anymore and he’s slowly starting to wonder why he agreed to doing the “final campus tour” with just Bokuto instead of inviting the entire volleyball team.
(Actually, he knows exactly why; he just won’t admit it out loud because he knows exactly how badly that would end.)
His thoughts are promptly interrupted when he walks into Bokuto’s back and the captain doesn’t even stumble. Akaashi merely glowers up at the smiling Bokuto and rubs gingerly at his nose, “Whatever it is, the answer is no. We’ve been all of the school—twice. There’s absolutely no plausible way we missed somewhere. Tour finished.”
Bokuto just keeps smiling, “One more place, Keiji.”
Akaashi bristles, briefly (because he has told Bokuto about that) before he settles and gives a short, annoyed nod. At least, no one was around to hear him; so, Akaashi ends up following his captain back through the halls and is only vaguely surprised that they don’t get sidetracked talking to people, even when said people try to catch Bokuto’s attention.
He supposes he shouldn’t be too surprised, though; when he wants to be, Bokuto’s very good at staying on track… when he wants to be.
They soon end up at the lockers by the entrance and Akaashi crosses his arms, “You were supposed to have cleared your locker out already, Bokuto.”
“I did.” Bokuto’s still smiling, even when he opens the door to what used to be his locker, “I was just using it to hide one tiny thing.”
‘Tiny’ isn’t exactly the word Akaashi would use for the box he produces. It’s a little bit smaller than the shoe locker itself and wrapped in a shiny black paper, with a gold and white ribbon. Akaashi merely quirks a brow, even when the box is held out to him, “What is that?”
“It’s a graduation present, duh.”
“… Bokuto, you’re supposed to open your graduation presents—”
“For you.”
Akaashi’s mouth is still open mid-sentence as he processes the information. He slowly closes his mouth and levels his captain with a moderately unamused glower, “If you’re going to tease me, I’m going home.”
“I’m not teasing.” Bokuto promises, still holding the box out; he has an extremely expectant look on his face and his eyes are shining the same way they do before a match, “Open it.”
For a few seconds longer, Akaashi just continues to glare at him… but, he does finally take the box when he concludes that Bokuto can’t possibly be stupid enough to pull a prank on him at the school, even if it is his last—
Akaashi refuses to finish the sentence, even in his head, and works on opening the box without ripping the wrapping or the ribbons. When he succeeds, he’s greeted by little cartoon owls winking at him and he has to roll his eyes, even as he’s pulling the lid off the ridiculous box.
For some reason, he’s not remotely surprised to find an extremely plush horned owl staring up at him from the box. He’s more surprised by the heart hanging from its mouth, of all things, before he finally realizes that Bokuto’s still watching him and promptly levels his captain with a blank stare, “Do I even want to ask where you found this?”
Bokuto pouts at him, “That’s all you have to say? It’s your graduation present, you could be a little more excited!”
“Graduation presents are for graduating seniors, buchou—”
“M’not your captain anymore, Keiji.” Bokuto blinks. They’ve been going through this for weeks; Bokuto’s been trying to ease everyone out of it—especially Akaashi and Onaga—but it hasn’t really worked. Komi still calls him ‘buchou’ without so much as batting an eye, and Konoha’s actively doing it on purpose (apparently, he’s planning on continuing, even at university, just to watch all of the captains react). Akaashi’s usually better about it; he doesn’t even call Bokuto ‘buchou’ very often… but, for some reason, it’s been hard for the past week.
“You’re the captain, now.” He continues, his voice a rare, gentle and guiding tone.
That’s even harder. Getting used to the incoming first years calling him‘buchou’. Onaga tried calling him ‘buchou’ the day Bokuto announced that Akaashi would be taking his spot; Akaashi had nearly served a ball at the back of his head.
Akaashi shakes his head to clear the memory away and finally takes the plush from the box, giving the heart a testing pull. As he suspected, it didn’t come out (which was good; he’d hate to lose a piece), and he looked back up at Bokuto, “Fine. Senpai.” Bokuto flinches at the word and pouts; Akaashi merely continues, “Graduation presents are supposed to be for the third years from their underclassmen. I should be giving you something.”
“Y’already did.” Bokuto’s smiling again—bigger, brighter—and he shoves his hands in pockets (a gesture that Akaashi knows is a control mechanism to keep from hugging people in public), “You’ll do great, Akaashi.”
Akaashi knows that there are people walking by and Bokuto’s merely doing as he asked; but, for some reason, it still stings when he doesn’t hear his given name.
ii.
A week into the new semester and Akaashi’s finally adjusted to the strange stillness in the gymnasium.
It isn’t, necessarily, that it’s quiet or even slow… contrariwise, the club is actually much bigger than the year before and is filled with new first years and even a handful of new second and third years.
But it’s… still.
Akaashi’s still adjusting to the lacking presence. To the boisterous, grandeur entrances; to the absolute command that the graduating third years had managed without trying. It wasn’t just Bokuto—he held an air of his own, but it wasn’t just him.
He was definitely the loudest though and, no matter what anyone (especially Onaga) says, Akaashi does not miss the reverberation of Bokuto’s excited whoops during practice. He doesn’t miss the sticky heat when Bokuto insisted on smothering him after accomplishing a new attack. He doesn’t miss the echoing singing that would come from the showers while everyone else got dressed, because (for reasons no one ever figured out) Bokuto would always shower after everyone else was done. He doesn’t miss Bokuto insisting on walking home with him, because he certainly doesn’t miss how often Bokuto would get sidetracked and they would end up picking up dinner or idling about a store because something shiny caught the older boy’s eye. He doesn’t miss the way Bokuto invited himself over, or the way he would make sure that dinner went smoothly when Akaashi didn’t want to so much as look at his parents, and he doesn’t miss the way Bokuto seemed to always end up staying the night with little to no warning.
No matter what anyone says… Akaashi does not miss his cap—Bokuto. He doesn’t miss Bokuto. At all.
iii.
His house is quiet when he gets home.
Akaashi looks around—careful, quiet, observant—and waits for the inevitable swear that says his parents are caught up in their work.
It doesn’t come and he concludes they’re still at their offices (thankfully) and hurries to his room before he can be proven wrong.
The quiet in his room is unusually stifling. He frowns, vaguely, when he sets his bag near his desk and looks around. Nothing is out of place; everything is the way he left it—the way he always leaves it—and yet… it feels chaotic. It feels too empty, too big, too wide, too quiet.
Too lonely.
He knows he has homework (reading material, but homework nonetheless). He has work to keep him busy (reviewing progression data of the team, adjusting the starting team to the most beneficial setup). Instead of working on any of that, though, he goes straight for his bed—practically dives into it—and curls himself around the plush owl, holding it tight to his body for some vain, diminishing sense of security.
He needs… something.
He needs the interaction. He needs the spontaneity. He needs the strangely soothing, albeit nonsensical, chatter.
He misses the chatter. He misses the soft singing when he can’t sleep. He misses the secure hold from stronger arms, when he can still hear his parents working late into the night. He misses the sticky heat of a walking furnace insisting on acting as a blanket.
He misses the fleeting anxiety of wondering if it was worth addressing the developed feelings. He misses wondering if maybe—just maybe—he knew.
Akaashi squeezes his owl tighter when he hears the door open and close down the hall—hears the inevitable, one-sided arguing as his parents continue on their phones—and tries to shut the world around him out.
He misses Bokuto.
iv.
When summer vacation rolls around, for some reason… Akaashi isn’t the least bit surprised that Bokuto calls the night before it actually starts. He blinks at his phone, wondering if he’s lost his mind. He finally answers after the sixth ring and cautiously brings it to his ear, “Hello?”
“Keijiiiiiii!”
There’s noises in the background. It sounds like a television and he can vaguely hear Komi and Washio snapping at each other and Konoha’s laugh. He wonders where Sarukui is… and then he wonders why Bokuto’s chanting his name—his given name—as though he were adjusting to it.
“I am aware of what name my is, thank you, Bokuto.”
The chanting comes to an abrupt stop and he can hear Bokuto snap his mouth shut. Akaashi sighs, “My parents are down the hall; don’t you dare start sulking.”
“Oh. That makes sense—wait they’re actually home?” He can practically see the way Bokuto quirks his brow and makes an affirmative noise, “Weird. Guess that blows my plan of dropping in.”
“Do not invite yourself over. Especially when you have company.”
“Company—oh. Them? Nah, we’re crashing Konoha and Komi’s place. They’re doing… uh… I don’t actually know what they’re doing. We were doing homework and then we reached a break point and they started playing Mario Kart so uh… yeah, I don’t know what’s happening anymore, but they won’t give me a controller.”
Akaashi can hear the pout and it makes him smile and he lets his posture relax just a little so he’s leaning over his desk, his elbows propping up on the top, “That, of course, has nothing to do with your choice of course challenges?”
“Hey, it is not my fault they suck at Rainbow Road.”
He can see the grin so clearly that he almost laughs. He wants to laugh, but he’s so afraid of how much it could end up sounding like a sob. He can already feel tears trying to prick at his eyes and quickly blinks them away, “Why did you call, anyways? You can’t be that bored. You should be finishing your classwork.”
“Eh. I’ve got time to do that later. Things finally calmed down a little and I realised I hadn’t called lately.” Bokuto chirps, all too happily, “So I came to a conclusion.”
“That you were going to call me at eleven pm, the last day of the first semester, and keep me up until five in the morning?” Akaashi’s tone deadpans; but, he knows that Bokuto recognizes the teasing… even though he desperately hopes that the joke isn’t taken seriously. He does not need to be up all night, no matter how tempting.
“Nope! If I keep you up, you won’t be in any condition for tomorrow!”
“… What’s tomorrow—Bokuto, no.”
“Too late~” Bokuto laughs and Akaashi nearly groans, “Come on. You’re not staying cooped up all summer.”
“If you make one more birdcage joke, I swear—”
“Aaaah~! Lucky, I didn’t even think about it!” His laugh is annoyingly welcome and Akaashi merely growls into his phone to keep from admitting that it’s such a relief to hear, “Sorry, sorry. All seriousness though. I know for a fact training camp isn’t for a while. You aren’t staying inside until then. I’ll swing by to pick you up in the morning and we’re going to hang out all day. My treat.”
Akaashi wants to think up a reason to get out of this. He tries, too; he works through hundreds of scenarios before he sits up straight and hides his phone in his desk, immediately putting his attention back to his text books just as his door opens.
“Who are you talking to, Keiji?”
Despite the way her brow quirks, his mother doesn’t sound remotely interested in the answer. Merely suspicious and Akaashi hopes—desperately—that Bokuto can hear her and knows not to start talking. He looks over his shoulder, his face carefully neutral when he answers, “No one. I set an alarm on my phone, to ensure I didn’t stay up too late. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“I see… in that case, you should be getting into bed.” She casts a disdainful look towards the harmless owl plush sitting on the headboard of his bed.
“Of course, mother.”
She merely hums when she closes the door and Akaashi waits, with his breath held, until he can’t hear her footsteps any longer. He changes into his night clothes in that time and turns the light out before he finally pulls his phone out of the drawer and settles under his blanket.
The call timer is still running and he can still hear the background noises; he lets out a shaky breath when he relaxes against his pillow.
“Keiji?” Bokuto’s voice is quiet, “Everything ok?”
“Yeah….”
“Want me to come get you?”
“No….”
“…Cancel hanging out, then?”
Akaashi wants to say yes.
But, he looks up at his owl and pulls it down to his chest, squeezing it tightly with one arm, “No. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Later morning,” Bokuto corrects with a laugh and Akaashi smiles a bit, “Your parents still leave by six, right?”
“Usually, yeah.”
“Cool. I’ll be there by seven, okay?”
“Yeah.”
Akaashi’s eyes are getting heavy. He fails to stifle a yawn and sends a sleepy glare at the phone when Bokuto laughs again.
“Get some sleep, Keiji. I’ll see you later—”
“Koutaro?”
Even over the phone, Akaashi can feel the sudden stillness; the way Bokuto’s suddenly sitting up straight, probably ready to stand, to run out of the apartment without a second thought. It makes him smile again, “Can you stay on the phone?”
“Why—Keiji, I’m serious, I can be there in an hour—”
“No, no. That’s not necessary, I just—it’s… quiet.”
It isn’t. He knows it isn’t. He can hear his parents still talking down the hall, working in separate rooms, occasionally snapping at each other to keep it down. He knows Bokuto knows, too. He’s grateful—he thinks—when he hears the conceding sigh, “Alright. But only until you fall asleep.”
“That’s fine.”
“Want me to sing?”
He wants to say ‘yes, please’ and to elaborate just how much he’s missed Bokuto; all he manages is a tired, affirming hum.
For the first time in months, he falls asleep, easily, to the pleasant, soothing sound, of his captain singing next to his ear.
v.
Akaashi’s up well before his parents leave and is ready to head out barely minutes after they do finally leave (on the dot, at six, like they do—have done every morning for as long as he can remember). He idles in his room for a few minutes, trying to work on something (he ends up staring blankly at his text book, unable to actually comprehend the words on the page), before he finally just sits on his bed, playing with the wings on his owl until six-fifty-five. At six-fifty-five, he makes his way back to the front door and, right at seven, opens it just in time to be tackled—not hugged;tackled—by Bokuto.
Immediately, the older boy is rubbing his cheek against Akaashi’s hair and cooing about how much he’s missed him and… as annoyed as Akaashi is, he smiles. He smiles and he lets himself be smothered in the wonderful positive energy from his captain. At least for a few minutes.
“Buchou—er… Bokuto, you have to let go sooner or later.” He doesn’t even try to cover up the fact he slipped up; Bokuto doesn’t say anything about it, but he does at least comply to releasing Akaashi. It doesn’t take long for his attention to wonder away from his previous smothers.
“Where’s Hasha?”
Akaashi stares at him, “Who in the world—you did not.”
“What?”
“You named my owl ‘Hasha’.”
“Uh… yes? I thought I told you that.” Bokuto blinks, “Didn’t I?”
“No.”
“Oh. Well. Her name’s Hasha. Where is she?”
In any other situation, Akaashi might question why a university student is still naming stuffed animals—stuffed animals that aren’t even his—but in this instance his only real reaction is still, “You named my owl.”
“I was going to get her a cute little tag and everything.” Bokuto sighs, not seeming to realise how close Akaashi is to strangling him, “She was kind of a last minute idea though and she was barely ready in time for graduation. I’m glad she was though.”
For the first time since he got the owl, Akaashi realizes that Bokutocommissioned someone to make a plush owl. He’d always had his theories but to have confirmation.
He’s seriously considering strangling his captain. Especially when he turns his brighter-than-the-sun-at-noon smile back on, “So, where is she?”
“In my room, why—Bokuto, where are you—I thought you said we were going out, today, why are you—we are not bringing the owl.”
“I know, I know, we can leave in a little bit.” Bokuto’s already letting himself into Akaashi’s room by the time Akaashi catches up. He can feel his face beginning to flush when his captain immediately begins to coo, “Aww. You keep her on your bed!”
“Shut up.”
“No, no. I’m glad you do. She was a present to my favourite teammate after all, I’m glad you’re taking care of her.”
Akaashi frowns, his eye giving a mild twitch, “She—it was a gift, why would I not take care of her—it.”
He curses himself, inwardly; he will not be caught up in Bokuto’s childish mannerisms. He will not.
Bokuto just keeps smiling, as though he didn’t notice (which Akaashi knows is false; he knows Bokuto noticed and he’s pretty sure that’s why his captain is smiling still) and sits down on the bed so he can play with the plush, “You like her, then?”
Akaashi gives him a blank look, “What?”
“Your present? Hasha? Your plush owl?” Bokuto’s clearly enjoying this, if the way he’s begun to play with the wings is any indication, “You like your present?” When Akaashi doesn’t answer, Bokuto looks down, his smile softening just a little, “I’m glad. Y’know… on graduation day, you said you should be giving me a present—you did. I mean. You’ve given me a lot of presents.” Bokuto hums and starts counting off, “You’re the best setter I could have ever hoped for. There’s a lot of us in the university club but I just don’t click with any of the others. Not like I do when you’re setter. You’re the best vice-captain I could have asked for. I could have gone with one of the other third years, but I didn’t. You were always my first choice. Hell, if I hadn’t been nominated captain, I would have pitched a fit to whoever was captain to make you vice. Although… having a second year as a captain would have been pretty cool, huh?” There’s a small laugh before he manages to continue, “I wasn’t captain the way I should’ve been. I mean. I know everyone rode on my energy highs, but I wasn’t the foundation. I wasn’t a good leader when I needed to be. You are. The captain doesn’t make the team. Not the setter or even the ace. The one who makes the team is the one that can keep it together—keep the teamtogether, no matter what the situation. That’s you.”
“That isn’t true.”
Akaashi isn’t sure why he focuses on that. He’d been too shocked to interrupt before; but… if there was one thing he hated—he absolutelyhated—it was listening to his captain belittle himself. He doesn’t care how startled Bokuto looks at the moment, doesn’t care he looks ready to protest, “The only reason I could do anything I did was because we had you. Yourenergy. Your leadership. Your encouragement. So what if your moods weren’t always consistent—you made them work. We learned. We learned things other teams can’t dream of. You’re our ace and our captain. Do you know what the other teams would do if their ace or captain—never mindboth—just stopped attacking? If they stopped acting like a leader? We were—are stronger because of you. I know how to train the new team because of you—it’s… it’s harder… because none of them can live up to you, but I know what to do.”
He’s not sure how else he can explain. He’s not even sure he made sense; he’s never been able to make coherent debate when he’s upset. When he’s worried. Anxious. He wants nothing more than to latch onto his captain and just cling to him until he understands. Because he doesn’t know how to explain what he’s feeling. He doesn’t know how to explain the way his chest constricts and the way his breath is getting shorter. He can’t explain the frustrated tears pricking at his eyes—frustrated tears that turn into a steady stream when Bokuto’s suddenly too close, suddenly holding his face, telling him to calm down. Telling him he wasn’t trying to upset Akaashi. Apologising.
Akaashi wants to hit him. He never would—but that doesn’t change the fact he wants to. Because Bokuto shouldn’t be apologizing.
Finally, Akaashi makes a frustrated noise and tugs on his captain’s shirt and kisses him. Just to make him stop. To stop talking, stop apologizing, to just stop. He’s not sure why it sounded like a remotely sound idea; he hadn’t thought it through at all. He’s not sure how he’s going to explain anything when he releases his captain. But, at least he stopped apologizing.
In fact, Bokuto freezes on the spot. There’s a split second of tense muscles from surprise before he relaxes into a befuddled state. Akaashi’s finally worked up the nerve to pull away—to try apologizing, brushing it off, acting like it hadn’t happened—when Bokuto reacts. When his hands shift, where they’re still holding Akaashi’s face; they shift up to his hair, to cradling his head when the kiss returns, more than just a press of lips and Akaashi is more than content in being lead. Just this once.
It feels too soon when Bokuto moves back and Akaashi makes a mild noise of protest in his throat. His captain just smiles, his fingers still tangled in Akaashi’s hair and his thumbs making gentle stroking motions to calm the setter.
The room is quiet, but… this is a quiet that Akaashi can handle. This isn’t a lonely quiet. This is a warm quiet that they’re both accustomed to. A silent conversation in looks and touches—well. Looks from Akaashi and lingering touches from Bokuto; something that’s so normal for them, that they’re both wondering why it took so long.
“So….” Akaashi knows he’s going to regret everything the second Bokuto opens his mouth. Still, his captain is smiling, affection just shining on his face, “I totally could have been kissing you all last year. I’m a little upset now.”
“Shut up.”
“We should catch up on it.”
“You said we were going out—“
“Well, I mean, that would be the logical step from here, yes—“
“Out as in going into the city.”
“Same thing.”
Akaashi just rolls his eyes, “You are really lucky she’s cute.” Bokuto blinks, looking completely baffled. It’s enough to make Akaashi smile, “Hasha. I only kept her because she was cute.” His captain pouts… or, he tries to, anyways. He starts smiling again to show he knows that Akaashi’s just saying that, “If she hadn’t been cute, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Akaashi gives Bokuto’s arm a mild tug to lead him out of the room, “Now let’s go. With our luck, my parents would probably show up.”
The look of mock horror that lights up Bokuto’s face is enough to make Akaashi laugh; and that is enough to make Bokuto kiss him again before he finally complies with following the setter out of his house.
+
Somehow (and Akaashi’s pretty sure he knows exactly how) they end up spending the entire day at Bokuto’s apartment, catching up on what’s happened since graduation… at least they try to. Most of it is filled with kisses and Bokuto being excessively clingy and whining that he doesn’t want to take Akaashi home yet.
Akaashi ends up staying the night… and then the next day… and the day after.
He doesn’t even care when his parents leave messages asking where he is. After the fourth call, he finally calls back to assure them he’s all right (only because Bokuto insists he returns at least one call), but he doesn’t bother mentioning where he is. He’ll figure out something to tell them when he finds the will to actually go home for more than a change of clothes.
+bonus+ (for part iv)
Bokuto ends up hanging up the phone somewhere around two in the morning. Most of his friends have fallen asleep around the living area. Konoha’s the only one still awake, lounging on the couch with Komi fast asleep on his side.
He looks up when Bokuto finally goes quiet and quirks a brow, “I’m only mildly surprised you didn’t propose to him—actually, no. I’m not surprised anymore. Why didn’t you ask him out on graduation day?”
Bokuto sticks his tongue out, “Don’t get my hopes up, Aki.”
“I’m telling you, he’s totally crushing on you. You should definitely tell him.” Still, the blond shrugs, his attention drifting back to his book, “Everything’s all right, though? You went quiet for a while.”
“Yeah… his parents were home.” Bokuto laughs when his friend makes a face of disdain, “Guess his mom walked in.”
“I still can’t fathom why they don’t like you.”
“I’m a ~bad influence~ apparently.” He shrugs and crawls over to settle down in front of the couch to get at least a few hours of sleep, “Wake me up at six, ok?”
“I hope you fall asleep on the train.”
Bokuto snorts, quietly, and settles down for a power nap.
He keeps his phone close to his head, just in case.