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Weekend bar outings were a tradition.
They were where Iwaizumi had first told them he was thinking of marrying Oikawa. They were here when Kuroo and Iwaizumi planned the Daichi and Suga Wedding Extravaganza, when Bokuto was finally convinced to get a new haircut, when Daichi announced his promotion.
They were always a constant, Akaashi thought, chin propped up on a fist as he surveyed the bar. Bokuto flashed across his line of sight, face alight as he weaved himself through the crowd before disappearing again. Akaashi smiled slightly, looking down at their table to trace the grain of the wood.
“Try this,” Kuroo said suddenly, pushing the glass he had been sipping on into Akaashi’s hands.
“What is it?”
“Jack and ginger.”
Akaashi inspected the glass, lifting it up to his lips to take a sip. “It’s good.”
“That’s why I bought it.” Kuroo flashed him a grin, getting up from the table to find where Bokuto had wandered off to. “You can finish it,” he added over his shoulder, sauntering over to the bar.
Akaashi saw Bokuto out of the corner of his eye, talking animatedly with the man next to him, hands waving periodically. He threw his head back in laughter, gesturing for Kuroo to come over, and Akaashi tipped his glass back, finishing it quickly with a grimace.
“Easy there.”
Akaashi looked up at Iwaizumi, the room buzzing in a hazy glow. “Easy yourself,” he said, feeling the corners of his mouth turning up.
Iwaizumi just laughed, his wedding ring tapping against the glass of his beer. “How’s Suga, by the way?” he said, directing his attention to a sleepy Daichi in the corner.
“He’s good. Great.” Daichi fiddled with his phone, smiling slightly at the screen before turning back to Iwaizumi. “I’m actually heading out soon. He wants to go see a midnight movie since he got off shift early.”
Iwaizumi nodded, watching Daichi shrug into his jacket.
“Did you want this?” he said, gesturing to his abandoned beer. Iwaizumi shook his head, pointing to his own glass.
“I’m good for tonight.”
“Akaashi?”
Akaashi started, tearing his eyes away from the bar. He nodded, glancing between Daichi and Iwaizumi, slightly surprised when Daichi pushed another drink into his hand.
“I’ll see you guys,” he said, taking off with a smile. He stopped by the bar, patting Bokuto and Kuroo on the back before heading for the door. Akaashi stared down into his new drink, contemplating it for a second before taking a deep sip.
Iwaizumi propped a hand under his chin, watching him thoughtfully. “How are you, Akaashi?”
“How am I?” Akaashi took another sip of Daichi’s drink, eyes flicking to the bar when another burst of laughter broke through the haze of the room. “I’m fine.”
“How’s Bokuto?”
Akaashi put his glass down, regarding it for a moment before looking back up at Iwaizumi, frowning slightly. “Bokuto?”
“Yeah—don’t you, I don’t know, spend a lot of time with him?”
Akaashi tilted his head back, the slow, crawling pace of his thoughts bringing another smile to his lips. “Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“Iwaizumi-san.” Akaashi took another sip of his beer, trying to fix him with one of his dead stares. “You wouldn’t be trying to set me up like a certain other recent couple.” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence and he giggled, ruining the effect of his glare.
Iwaizumi laughed, scratching the back of his head as he nursed his drink. “You just looked happy dancing at the wedding.”
“Iwaizumi-san,” Akaashi repeated, gesturing widely with his hands. “Some things just happen their own way.”
“What things?”
A tan arm slung itself around Akaashi’s shoulders, warm body sliding in next to him as Bokuto grinned widely. Akaashi thought about shooting Iwaizumi a look, but he felt too content, a smile melting over his features as he let Bokuto give him a slight shake.
“Nothing,” Akaashi finally said, turning so he faced Bokuto’s cheek. Bokuto met his eyes, laughing as Akaashi gave him a slow grin.
“What are you drinking, Akaashi?” he said, grabbing the glass out of his hands to take a sip before he had time to reply.
“It’s Daichi-san’s,” he said slowly, watching as Bokuto promptly spit it out, beer-colored drool sliding off his chin.
“I hate IPAs.”
Akaashi leaned his arms on the table, rocking forward as he breathed out a laugh. “You are a handful, Bokuto-san.”
Bokuto laughed, turning away from Akaashi to give Iwaizumi a look.
“You got Akaashi drunk,” he said, scrunching his nose at Iwaizumi.
“Hey.” Iwaizumi held up his hands, looking up at the ceiling. “I didn’t do a thing.”
“I can look after myself, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, eyes level with Bokuto’s cheek. It looked soft, like if he reached out to stroke it Bokuto would lean into his touch.
Bokuto turned back to Akaashi and suddenly he was looking at his lips, cheeks heating up as he averted his eyes.
“I know you can,” he said, nudging Akaashi before grabbing his wrist, shooting up from his seat. “Come on, let’s go to the bar.”
Akaashi let himself be led through the crowd, the room muted pleasantly as his head buzzed. Bokuto pulled out a stool for him and Kuroo was slapping his back, abandoning his game of quarters to pull Bokuto closer to him. Akaashi propped his arms up on the bar, letting their conversation wash over him, content to let his heavy limbs relax.
“Akaashi, tell Kuroo that he’s wrong.”
Akaashi blinked, turning to find Bokuto and Kuroo watching him, a smirk on Kuroo’s face. He sighed, picking up Kuroo’s drink and taking a sip before spinning in his stool, facing them.
“What is it?”
“Are you just going to help yourself to my drink?”
Akaashi looked down at the glass in his hand, then back up at Kuroo as a slow smile spread across his face. “Yes,” he said, taking a long sip before meeting Kuroo’s eyes, raising his eyebrows as if he were asking what Kuroo was going to do about it.
“Akaashi after hours,” Kuroo snickered, pulling a stool up at the bar as he got the bartender’s attention.
Bokuto laughed, squeezing his way onto the same stool as Akaashi, wiggling his way on until Akaashi was pushed to the very edge, holding the bar for support.
“Bokuto-san,” he said, putting down his glass. “This seat was not made for two.”
Bokuto just wriggled in the seat, his side pressed close against Akaashi. “Tell Kuroo he’s wrong.”
“What is he wrong about?”
“I told him he should go back to his old hair style from high school.” He reached out, fluffing up Kuroo’s short hair until it stood up on the top of his head. “Come on, wouldn’t that look cool?”
“No.”
“Aw, Akaashi—”
Kuroo smacked Bokuto’s hand away and Bokuto leaned back, knocking Akaashi off center, sending him pressing up against the bar. Akaashi glared at Kuroo, who glared right back, face slowly breaking into a smirk as he looked Akaashi up and down.
“What about Koutarou’s hair, Akaashi? Should he go back to his old hairstyle?” He mussed up Bokuto’s hair, making it stand on end. “Horns are definitely in style, huh?”
Akaashi looked at Bokuto’s hair, draining the rest of Kuroo’s drink as Bokuto tried to flatten it down again. “It looks fine now,” he said, setting his empty glass on the bar.
“But don’t you remember how great it looked?” Kuroo took Akaashi’s hand, placing it in Bokuto’s hair, shaking it around so the strands stood every which way. His hair was soft—flopping silkily through his fingers as Bokuto tried to move away.
“Kuroo, cut it out—”
Bokuto shook his head and Kuroo took his hand away, laughing at the short spikes sticking up all over. Akaashi let his hand fall slowly, fluffing a few strands as his fingers dragged down.
Kuroo snickered, stretching his arms over his head as he stood up. “I’m gonna head home.”
Bokuto gave him a pout, picking up his glass to take a sip. “Aw, are you really leaving so soon?”
“It’s past midnight,” he said, pushing his chair in. “I’m tired. Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair soon.” He smirked at Akaashi, waving a hand over his shoulder as he headed over to Iwaizumi, collecting his jacket as he said his goodbyes.
“He’s weird,” Bokuto said, grabbing for Kuroo’s abandoned drink.
“Very weird,” Akaashi agreed, sighing as he leaned back on the stool, resting against Bokuto’s side. He closed his eyes, surprised to find the room swaying a bit.
“This tastes bad,” Bokuto said, voice close to his ear. “Do you want it?”
He was already standing up, pressing the glass into his hands as he headed for Iwaizumi, dragging Akaashi with him. Akaashi sighed, taking a sip as he let himself be led through the bar and to the back tables.
“Iwa, who are you sexting?”
Iwaizumi looked up from his screen, watching Bokuto pull out a chair, offering it to Akaashi before settling into the one next to it.
“My husband.”
“Hey, are you really?” Bokuto lunged across the table, pulling Iwaizumi’s phone towards him, Iwaizumi rolling his eyes as he let it slide from his hands. “Are you already looking to spice up the romance?”
Iwaizumi rubbed at his temples, meeting Akaashi’s eyes across the table. “Yes.”
“This is just a grocery list,” Bokuto said, holding the phone up indignantly. “You’re just texting Oikawa groceries.”
“Can I have my phone back?”
“Aw, Iwa, you like Cap’n Crunch cereal?”
Akaashi giggled into his drink, the glass fogging up as he held it up to his lips. Iwaizumi just sighed, standing up to pull his phone from Bokuto’s hand and the drink from Akaashi’s.
“I’m going home.”
“Everyone is leaving us, Akaashi,” Bokuto whined, turning to stick out his lower lip at Akaashi.
“Everyone is leaving you,” he said, letting his arms hang heavy at his sides.
“You’re so mean to me.”
Akaashi just giggled again, leaning forward until his head rested on the table, bringing up his arms to circle around his head.
“Make sure he gets home okay,” Iwaizumi said, his footsteps fading as he left.
“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi turned his head to the side, looking at Bokuto through heavy-lidded eyes. Bokuto leaned closer, looking slightly concerned, and Akaashi raised his hand, letting it run through Bokuto’s soft hair.
“Did you have something to say? Or did you just want to give me a new hairstyle?”
Akaashi just hummed, letting his fingers trail through the short hairs at the nape of his neck.
“Keiji.” Bokuto laughed, a grin stretching across his face as he sat up. “Let’s go home.”
***
Akaashi leaned forward, his head in his hands as the train jolted forward, picking up speed along the tracks.
“Bokuto-san,” he said, burying his face in his hands.
There was a hand at his back, palm hot through the material of his thin shirt as it rubbed small circles.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Akaashi sat up, relieved when Bokuto kept his hand on his back. “But I think we just missed my stop.”
Bokuto massaged his thumb absentmindedly against Akaashi’s back, running tiny circles between his shoulder blades. “That’s okay, we’re going to my apartment.”
“Bokuto…” He turned his head, studying Bokuto’s concerned face. “I’m really fine. You don’t have to do that.”
“Iwaizumi told me to take you home!”
“My home. An accomplishment you’ve already failed.”
“I’m sorry.” Bokuto frowned, removing his hand from Akaashi’s back. “I thought this would be better. Do you want me to walk you back to your apartment?”
“No.” Akaashi sighed, leaning back in his seat. “This is okay.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence, getting off at Bokuto’s stop to walk the short trek back to his apartment. They climbed up the rickety steps, Akaashi keeping a steadying hand on the wall as they went. Bokuto fumbled with his keys, Akaashi leaning against the opposite wall while he waited.
“Home sweet home,” Bokuto finally said, letting his door swing open, gesturing for Akaashi to go in first.
He stumbled in the dark, making his way to the kitchen while Bokuto felt the wall for the light switch. He’d been here a million times—the familiar sound of the light overhead flickered on, the small apartment he knew by heart coming to life.
Akaashi opened one of the cabinets, pulling a glass down, filling it up under the sink as Bokuto bumped around in his hallway closet.
“Do you want the knit blanket or the one with flowers on it?” he called, something thumping to the floor as he cursed under his breath.
“Both.”
Akaashi watched his glass fill, turning off the faucet when water almost spilled from the brim. Bokuto appeared in the doorway, his arms full of blankets.
“You can take the bed.”
“Bokuto-san, I don’t need to take your bed.” His head swam as he watched Bokuto, the room swaying a bit. He took a gulp of water before placing it on the counter, hand to his head.
“But—”
“I can take the couch.” The room was buzzing faintly, Akaashi’s head feeling heavy as he headed for the living room. Bokuto trailed after him, blankets dragging on the floor behind him.
He laid down on the couch and Bokuto dropped everything on top of him, laughing as Akaashi wriggled underneath the weight of blankets.
“Hold still,” Bokuto’s voice said from above him, and a pillow landed next to his head, Akaashi shimmying up the couch until he could hug it to his head. The weight of the blankets disappeared and there was a snap as Bokuto shook one out, the flowered blanket floating around Akaashi until he was covered. Akaashi turned his head, curling up into a ball as the room started to spin. Another blanket stretched out over him and Akaashi pulled it up over his head, trying to block out the spinning.
The couch dipped underneath him and the warmth of Bokuto’s body leaned over him, his hand at Akaashi’s back.
“Are you really feeling okay?”
Akaashi hugged his knees tighter against his chest, squeezing his eyes shut when Bokuto pulled the blanket down off his face. Bokuto’s hand felt nice, solid against his back as he started up his small circles again, leaning over to peer at Akaashi.
“Bokuto-san,” he said, half-wishing he would stay there until he fell asleep, rubbing reassuring circles across his back. “You should drink water before you go to bed too.”
Bokuto just laughed, Akaashi pulling the blankets back up over his head as his weight disappeared from the cushions. He didn’t really see what was so funny, but he hugged the pillow tighter against him, blocking it out.
“I will. Goodnight, Akaashi.”
The lights clicked off and Akaashi sighed, pressing his face into the pillow.
***
Akaashi woke up early in the morning, the skies from the window in Bokuto’s living room streaked with pink in the coming dawn. A cup of water sat on the coffee table across from him, filled so much that water had spilled over the sides, collecting in a puddle on the table.
Akaashi picked it up carefully, moving to the kitchen to pour some of it down the sink before taking a sip. The refrigerator kicked in, humming lowly as the sky turned lighter, illuminating the small apartment.
“Akaashi?”
Bokuto’s voice called sleepily down the hall, a small sound in the quiet of the morning. “Is that you?”
Akaashi finished his water and set the empty glass in the sink, turning around to see a sleepy Bokuto padding into the room, rubbing at his eyes. His shirt was wrinkled from sleep, the indent of his pillow still pressed to his cheek.
“Sorry, Bokuto-san,” he said, closing the cabinet that had been open all night. “You can go back to sleep.”
“Keiji, what are you doin’ awake?” he said softly, voice still hoarse from sleep.
Akaashi shrugged, filling up his old cup with water and holding it out to Bokuto. “Sorry I woke you up.”
“’s okay,” he said, taking the cup gladly. “I thought you were sick or somethin’.” They stayed in the kitchen like that, Bokuto rubbing the sleep from his eyes as the light gradually changed to morning.
***
“You’re in an existential crisis.”
Akaashi lay on Iwaizumi’s carpet, opening one eye to see Kuroo looking down at him, tapping his chin in thought.
“I’m not in existential crisis.”
“You are.” Kuroo turned to his side, shaking Iwaizumi’s knee to get his attention. “Isn’t he in existential crisis?”
“I’m not.”
“You are lying on our dirty floor,” Oikawa said from Iwaizumi’s other side, peering down at Akaashi. “Iwa-chan hasn’t vacuumed in centuries.”
“I vacuumed last week,” Iwaizumi said, gesturing over the top of his magazine.
“He gets defensive when he’s lying.”
Iwaizumi sighed, holding his magazine closer to his face in an effort to ignore Oikawa, who promptly took the magazine away, holding it out and away from Iwaizumi as he cackled.
Akaashi rolled onto his side, watching Iwaizumi yank at Oikawa’s arm, pulling his magazine closer. “I don’t think you know what existential means,” he said, flinching out of the way as Oikawa’s feet started to flail.
“You’re in some kind of crisis,” Kuroo said, getting up from the couch to move to the love seat across from them.
Akaashi’s phone buzzed and he opened a picture from Bokuto, smiling at Bokuto’s exaggerated face from the kitchen of the Aoba.
“Akaashi!”
He glanced up from his phone, giving Kuroo a questioning look.
“This is what I mean,” Kuroo said, crossing his ankles as he leaned back in his seat. “You can’t stop thinking about Bokuto. It’s a crisis.”
“This is not a crisis,” Akaashi said calmly, typing out a quick reply to Bokuto.
“You can’t even put your phone down to tell me that.”
Akaashi sighed, pushing his phone onto the coffee table as he sat up, giving Kuroo his full attention. “Kuroo. This is not a crisis.”
“But you like him!” Kuroo threw his hands up in the air, trying to look at Iwaizumi for support, who was currently busy wrestling Oikawa into the couch cushions.
“Of course I like Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, leaning an elbow on the coffee table to read the new text flashing across his phone.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.” Akaashi sat up straighter, catching Kuroo’s full attention. “I do like Bokuto, and I appreciate what you’re doing for your friend. But I like the way things are now.”
“But you’ve kissed before. All the time.”
“Kuroo.” Iwaizumi sat up on the couch, throwing a crumpled up magazine page at him. “Leave it alone if he says so.”
Akaashi touched his lips, remembering the way Bokuto had pressed against him, his mouth heavy with the taste of beer. “Those are just drunk kisses.” He let his finger fall from his lips, fiddling with his phone instead. “They don’t really mean anything.”
“So kissing doesn’t mean anything to you?”
“No, that’s not it.” Akaashi leaned his cheek into his hand, taking a deep breath. He ran his fingernails across the wood of Iwaizumi’s coffee table, waiting a moment to collect his thoughts. “It didn’t feel romantic.”
Kuroo watched him from his couch, biting his thumb nail as he took in Akaashi. “Alright. I get you.”
“It just—” Akaashi pressed on, wanting Kuroo to understand him, wanting Bokuto to understand too. “I like how things are now. I like how they’re moving. I want to be comfortable before anything—anything else happens.”
“Okay.” Kuroo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“No, you’re fine.” Akaashi shook his head slightly, his hair brushing across his forehead. He opened up his messages, reading the two that Bokuto had sent in the last few minutes, complaining about his shift. He looked back up at Kuroo, who had smoothed out the paper Iwaizumi had thrown at him, reading the magazine article on the back.
“Does Bokuto ask about it?”
Kuroo looked up, meeting his eyes. He grinned, shaking his head. “Bro code. I’m not telling you anything.”
***
Akaashi sat with his knees to his chest, back pressed against the bottom of his couch as a sitcom flashed brightly on his television screen. There was a knock at the door and Akaashi checked his phone, the time flashing a little past one in the morning on his screen.
“Akaaaaas-shi,” Bokuto called from behind the door, Akaashi sighing as he got up to answer it.
He opened the door, Bokuto’s face breaking out into an impossibly large grin. “Keiji!” he said, swaying slightly where he stood. “You’re here!”
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said calmly, taking Bokuto’s wrist to pull him inside before shutting the door quietly. “I do live here.”
“But you’re awake!” he said, making his way to Akaashi’s kitchen, pulling out a bag of chips from the cupboard.
Akaashi sighed, trudging after Bokuto. “Where did you go out tonight?”
“Suga had a date with Daichi, so Oikawa needed one more person for poker night,” he said, crumbs falling from his mouth and onto his shirt.
“I see.” Akaashi stepped closer, brushing the chips from Bokuto’s shirt and onto the floor. “Did you win?”
“No.” Bokuto laughed lightly, catching Akaashi’s wrist, holding on as he set the bag of chips down. “But Oikawa had a lot of wine.”
Akaashi just laughed, pulling Bokuto towards the sink when he didn’t let go of his wrist. “And you didn’t have any?” he asked, pushing a glass of water into Bokuto’s hand.
“I might have had some,” he said, eagerly finishing the glass, swaying slightly when he set it down on the counter.
“Just a little,” Akaashi said.
Bokuto just slid his hand down Akaashi’s wrist, fingers lacing between his. Akaashi smiled slightly, tugging Bokuto back to his room, opening his closet.
“Pick a blanket.”
Bokuto dropped his hand, digging around to come up with a fuzzy blue one, their old college mascot screened across the front. He threw it over his head, holding it around his neck like a cape, smiling proudly at Akaashi.
“Very nice,” he said, moving to his dresser to pull out pajamas for himself. “Do you want a pair of—?”
Akaashi turned around, watching Bokuto climb into his bed, burrowing under his comforter until only his head popped out.
“Bokuto-san,” he said, holding a pair of pajama pants in his hands, just looking at him with heavy eyes.
“Keiji,” he said back, imitating Akaashi’s tone as he rolled over, humming contentedly as he hugged a pillow to his face. “’s comfy.”
Akaashi just picked up his pajamas, clicking off the light as he headed for the bathroom to change. He looked at himself in the mirror, running a hand through his messy hair, touching the slight pink high on his cheeks. Akaashi sighed, tugging at the owl shirt Bokuto had bought him years ago, before heading back for his room. Bokuto lay sprawled face down on his bed, shoes thrown over the side. Akaashi shut the door quietly, the light from the hallway cutting off as he slipped into bed.
“’kaashi.”
Bokuto shimmied closer to his edge of the bed, making room, eyes opening slowly in the moonlight streaming through Akaashi’s window.
“Thought you were gonna sleep on your couch,” he said, eyes drifting closed again when Akaashi pulled the comforter up, curling his knees to his chest.
“Why would I do that?”
Bokuto rolled over, his back to Akaashi. He shrugged, the comforter moving up with his movement. “I’m glad you came back.”
Akaashi laughed quietly, pressing his palm to the small of Bokuto’s back. His skin was warm, heat bleeding through his t-shirt. “I just went to the bathroom.”
Bokuto’s breath started to even out, his back moving steadily underneath Akaashi’s palm. He bit his lip, curling his fingers into the fabric of Bokuto’s shirt.
Akaashi leaned over, pressing a small kiss to Bokuto’s temple, settling back under the covers as Bokuto let out a happy sigh.
***
“Hey, this song is great, turn it up.”
Akaashi put down his dishrag, watching Bokuto shake his hips as he wiped down tables. Suga made eye contact with him, the both of them laughing into their hands as Kuroo turned up the radio, Bokuto scrubbing at a ketchup stain in time with the music.
“You know, he isn’t half bad,” Suga said, stacking chairs over the table Akaashi had just cleaned.
“Maybe,” Akaashi said, lips curling up slightly as he brushed crumbs off the table.
“Hey, hey!” Bokuto threw his rag at Kuroo, jumping up to grab Akaashi’s hand, pulling him to the middle of the room. “I’m great!”
Akaashi laughed, Bokuto spinning him around the floor, lacing his fingers with Akaashi’s. Suga clapped and Bokuto drew him a little closer, guiding his arms this way and that.
“This is the worst courting ritual I’ve ever seen,” Kuroo said, shouting in surprise as Bokuto pranced over, lifting his and Akaashi’s arm to pin him in the middle of the two of them.
“This is the best,” Bokuto said, shaking his hips, shimmying against Kuroo until Akaashi had to drop Bokuto’s hands he was laughing so hard.
Bokuto just whooped, swishing his butt side to side as he picked up his dishrag again, scrubbing with the beat.
Suga looked over at Akaashi and he put a hand to his face, embarrassed at the flush high on his cheeks.
“You’re cute together.”
Akaashi buried his face in both hands, feeling a soft smile tug at his lips.
***
“Akaashi, can I ask you something?”
Akaashi glanced at Bokuto before looking ahead, the familiar view of his street laid out before him. They were heading home after a midnight movie, Bokuto’s hand occasionally bumping Akaashi’s as they walked.
“What is it, Bokuto-san?”
“Did you really mean that kiss?”
Akaashi looked down at his shoes, frowning slightly before he remembered the night Bokuto had come over drunk.
“Yes,” he said simply, glancing up at a sputtering Bokuto.
They paused outside Akaashi’s apartment complex, Akaashi shivering in his thin coat as the September wind picked up. Bokuto raised his hand, letting it drop again a moment later. He shuffled his feet, glancing at Akaashi once, twice, before looking down again, a blush creeping across his cheeks and down his neck.
“That was a good movie,” Bokuto finally said, burying his hands in his pockets.
“It was.”
The street light above them flickered and Akaashi looked up, taking in the empty street around them. It was past midnight, most people asleep on a Thursday night.
“Really good.”
Bokuto shuffled his feet, following Akaashi’s gaze.
“Bokuto-san…”
Akaashi held out his hand, Bokuto looking at it in surprise.
“Do you want to come inside?”
Bokuto took his hand, grinning widely. He let Akaashi lead him down the hallway, uncharacteristically shy as he waited for Akaashi to unlock his door.
Akaashi walked into his apartment, clicking on lights as he went, Bokuto trailing behind him.
“Akaashi—”
Akaashi paused outside his bedroom, glancing up at Bokuto. His eyes skittered away from Akaashi, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt, gasping slightly when Akaashi opened his door, pulling Bokuto in quickly before shutting it.
“Keiji—?
Akaashi backed Bokuto against the door, placing his hands hesitantly on Bokuto’s waist. “Is this okay?”
“Yes!” Bokuto grabbed Akaashi’s face, palm on either one of his cheeks as his face cracked into a grin. Akaashi winced and Bokuto’s grip slackened, his face slipping into an apologetic smile. “Yes,” he said, a little more quietly.
Akaashi stood up on his tiptoes, pressing his lips to Bokuto’s, surprised when Bokuto immediately parted his lips, pressing back against Akaashi with force.
He gripped Akaashi by the hips, breathing heavy as they moved against each other, Bokuto tilting his head the other way to kiss Akaashi deeper.
“Bokuto,” Akaashi gasped, breaking away, putting a steadying hand on the door. “Kou.”
Bokuto bit his lip, looking down at Akaashi as he rested his forehead against his chest.
“Let’s take it slow, okay?” Akaashi lifted his head, giving Bokuto a reassuring smile, pulling him gently to his bed.
Bokuto sat on the very edge of his bed, waiting patiently as Akaashi crawled into the middle of the bedspread, gesturing for Bokuto to come closer. He kneeled across from him, wrapping his arms around Bokuto’s neck before placing a gentle kiss to his lips, pulling back to look into Bokuto’s eyes.
“Better?”
Bokuto nodded slowly, a tiny noise of surprise escaping his lips when Akaashi leaned towards him again, parting his lips softly. He cupped Bokuto’s jaw gently, guiding him down to a better angle, running his tongue lightly across his lower lip.
Akaashi’s stomach turned when Bokuto reached out hesitantly, fingers ghosting over his skin before gripping his waist, encouraging Akaashi to pull himself into Bokuto’s lap, deepening their kiss. Akaashi pressed against Bokuto’s chest until his back was against the comforter, Akaashi steadying himself over Bokuto with a hand by his head. He kissed him again, meeting him with parted lips, pulling back slightly when Bokuto promptly giggled underneath him.
Akaashi sat up, staring down at Bokuto blankly.
“Sorry,” Bokuto said, covering his mouth as he laughed again. “I just can’t believe it.”
Akaashi just kept looking at him and Bokuto took his hand quickly, giving his arm a tug. “Not that it’s bad!” He drew his knees up on the bed, knocking them against Akaashi’s back. “I can’t believe I’m kissing Akaashi Keiji!”
The bed shook as Bokuto danced in place, Akaashi swaying from atop Bokuto as he attempted to shake his hips in celebration.
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, regarding him for a moment. “You are a handful.”
Bokuto shot up from the bed, Akaashi sliding backwards as he grabbed his shoulders, pulling Akaashi closer to smack his lips against his.
“I love you!” he said, laughing as Akaashi’s face burned, leaning his forehead against Bokuto’s shoulder before whispering it back.
***
“See you tomorrow, guys.” Suga zipped up his coat as the others waved, pushing the doors open and disappearing around the corner of the Aoba. Akaashi dropped his hand, only starting a little bit when a warm body pressed up behind him, taking his hand.
“Are you leaving too?”
Akaashi turned around, looking up at Bokuto still in his apron. “Yeah. I just finished mopping.”
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said, hand fidgeting with the strings of his apron.
Akaashi looked around, making sure Kuroo’s back was turned before leaning up on tiptoes, placing a hand on Bokuto’s chest to steady himself. “You can come over tonight,” he said, pressing a small kiss to Bokuto’s lips before pulling away quickly. “But after dinner.”
Bokuto whooped, picking up Akaashi to spin him around, Akaashi sighing at all subtlety lost. “I’ll see you then, Keiji!”
Akaashi just waved over his shoulder, zipping up his jacket before heading out the door. He stuck his hands in his pockets, already knowing Bokuto was going to show up early, taking a bowl of stir fry that Akaashi had made for two.
A car horn honked and Akaashi looked up, Oikawa leaning out the passenger’s window, asking if he wanted a ride. He nodded, sliding into the backseat before Iwaizumi pulled away from the restaurant, still wearing his suit from work.
“Long day today, huh Akaashi?” Oikawa asked, glancing in the rearview mirror. “I thought that last table would never leave.” Akaashi just hummed in response, picking at a loose thread on his pants.
Oikawa glanced at Iwaizumi, his thumb moving in thoughtful circles across Iwaizumi’s hand as they rested over the console. “How’s Bokuto?”
“Bokuto-san is fine.”
“That was a nice kiss just now,” Oikawa said, cackling when Akaashi spluttered, leaning forward in the backseat.
“But you were already gone when that happened.”
Oikawa flashed him his phone, a blurry picture of Bokuto spinning him around on his screen. “Kuroo told me.”
Akaashi leaned back against his seat, huffing as he went back to pulling at the loose thread on his pants. “Kuroo sees everything.”
“Do you liiiiike him?” Oikawa asked, Iwaizumi snorting as he put his turn signal on.
“You don’t have to humor him,” Iwaizumi said, glancing to the left before stepping on the gas.
“I always liked Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said simply. He looked up, catching Iwaizumi giving him a reassuring smile in the rearview mirror. Akaashi found himself smiling back, imagining the grin that would pull wide across Bokuto’s face if he were here right now.