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Akaashi gamely puts up with it, somehow; Bokuto crowding into his space to plant a wet kiss on his cheeks, or hugging him tight enough to press little kisses on his crown.
“Please, Bokuto-san.”
“Please what, Akaashi?” Bokuto’s owl eyes wide and expectant.
Then Akaashi sighs and gives him a light little kiss on his forehead, baby-bird tender and soft, and Bokuto lets him go.
‘Platonic kissing’ is what he calls it.
“That’s not a thing,” Kuroo protests, immediately, when Akaashi brings it up at his first training camp, while Bokuto chases Konoha around the gym.
“It is to him,” Akaashi yawns. “He does it to everyone.”
Everyone except Kuroo, that is.
For years now, he’s watched Bokuto kiss Yukie’s hand when she spares him a piece of chicken, smack his lips against Kenma’s cheek and run away, leaving Kenma hissing with anger before he darts back in to do it again, and plant a stage kiss right on Washio’s lips when he slammed home a third straight service ace.
(Turns out you only get a warning for kissing during a practice match. Good to know.)
Bokuto blows kisses to Kuroo’s sister in the stands, to kids mimicking his poses on the street, kisses Kiryuu right on top of his big, bald head when he sees him for the first time after the ace rankings come out.
He has no idea what would happen if he tried that on Sakusa, or heaven forbid, Ushijima, but he almost wants to see him try.
When he asked Bokuto about it once, Bokuto just shrugged. “It’s nice, right?” he said, like he couldn’t believe there was a world where kissing wasn’t nice, where affection wasn’t a delight, where he wasn’t free to share his love and happiness and joy with all his friends and all the world?
And what could Kuroo really say to that, except to smile and nudge his shoulder and hand him a spare Pocari Sweat. “You’re right,” he’d said. And that was that.
It takes their training camp, third year, for Kuroo to break.
It's some time after Tsukki returns to them, wanting to learn; Akaashi and Kuroo both watched him squint at Bokuto, knowing that soon enough, the time would come. Tsukishima’s under Bokuto’s proverbial wing now, and they both know there’s no letting go. It wouldn’t be long for the inevitable to come.
“He got you too, huh?” Kuroo smirks down at the blond on the ground, leaning against the wall as he watches Tsukishima push himself up.
Bokuto had tackled him to the floor to prove a point about Tsukki’s noodle arms, and while he was trapped there had taken the opportunity to pull off his glasses and kiss the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes.
“To make you feel better about sucking!” Bokuto yelled as he jogged away, Tsukishima grumbling while he reached for his glasses.
“What does it look like?” Tsukishima brushes invisible dirt off his thighs before sighing. “Is he always like this?”
Kuroo shrugs. “He just likes to kiss his friends.” He laughs at the disgusted look on Tsukishima’s face. “You’ve gotta accept it. Bo’s decided you’re his friend now."
"Can I reject this proposal?"
"Do you want to make him sad?"
Tsukishima looks like he's genuinely considering it for a minute too long, so Kuroo smacks him on the back to bring him out of it.
“How did you get him to stop kissing you?” Tsukishima asks, and it’s not provocative, just curious, like he’s testing the shape of friendship, but it hits Kuroo like a spike to the chest.
Bokuto kisses all of his friends. All of them. Sometimes strangers too, who help him when he gets lost or can’t find a spare coin for a sports drink.
But they’ve known each other for years now, and he’s never once kissed Kuroo.
And Tsukishima, who Bokuto has barely known for a week, noticed. Sure, maybe he's a little too smart, a little too observant for his own good, but it means something, right? How obvious Bokuto is in his avoidance?
But why does that hurt so suddenly? He’d known, the whole time, that Bokuto didn’t kiss him. Why now? Why did it sting? Because Tsukishima noticed? Because it was obvious? Was it because—
“I’ve got to go,” Kuroo says.
“Wait-” Tsukishima tries to stop him, but Kuroo’s already out the door at the shock of the revelation.
—because he wants Bokuto to kiss him:?
“Obviously,” Kenma says when Kuroo relates this to him later, after they’ve all showered but just before lights out. “You’ve had a crush on him for ages.”
“What?” Kuroo yells, blocking the pillow Yaku tosses at him to get him to shut up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Kenma looks pained. “Aren’t you supposed to be smart? How could you not have known.”
“Ugh!” He turns over and shoves his face into his pillow. Why didn’t Kenma tell him? How obvious was he, if he didn’t know he had a crush until an hour ago?
“I think Akaashi knows, too,” Kenma adds, and Kuroo groans.
All of his friends are enemies now. Who is he supposed to trust?
"Why don't you ask him?" comes a voice right next to his ear.
"Lev! Warn a guy!"
"Yaku told me to tell you to captain up and talk to Bokuto!" Lev says brightly, still full of energy when everyone else is on the cusp of sleep. Across the room, Yaku sends a royal wave. "And if you don't talk to Bokuto as soon as possible, he'll kill you if you talk about it all night!"
"Yaku won't kill me."
"Are you sure?" And for a moment, Lev's eyes seem to glint metallic and murderous.
Kuroo shivers. "Fine!" he says, pulling on slippers and throwing up his hands. "I'm going!"
When he leaves, Kai and Fukunaga sigh and return the flashlight and compact mirror they used for the illusion to their bags.
Nekoma is a machine; teamwork is their middle name. But no one told them it would be a vaudeville routine, either.
He’s nervous while he stalls outside of the room Fukurodani’s sleeping in. What if he’s never been Bokuto’s friend, what if he’s overstepped at every bound?
Then he shakes his head. Nah; he can trust that Bokuto would be honest with him. He couldn’t hold something like that back if he tried, wearing his feelings like love and pride and self-doubt on his sleeve, bare to the world.
It’s impressive. It’s admirable. It’s incredible.
Oh man; he definitely has a crush on Bokuto.
“Are you done pacing?” Akaashi interrupts, poking around the door. “I could hear your thoughts through the wall.”
Kuroo blinks. Is Akaashi-
“I’m not a telepath.” He pauses, closes his eyes. Takes a deep, grounding breath. “Probably not, at least. Come inside. Maybe you can stop him.”
Puzzled, Kuroo follows him into the roost.
There’s chaos inside; Bokuto is chasing around some of his teammates while the rest sit in a circle in the corner, safe from the rush.
“He wants to give everyone a good night kiss,” Akaashi explains, eyes narrowed. “But not everyone wants one, understandably. Or they’re just trying to tire him out.”
It’s probably the latter; Bokuto’s kissed everyone on Fukurodani. It’s part of life, like death and taxes.
“But,” Akaashi continues, and there’s venom in his voice, “it’s keeping me from falling asleep.”
“So if I stop it, I’ll be your hero?”
Akaashi looks at him from the corner of his eyes, and says, deadpan, hand to his heart. “My savior. I could swoon.”
Kuroo laughs, and that catches Bokuto’s attention; he lets up on Sarukui and turns to Kuroo, head turned inquisitive like he’s wondering why he’s there.
Instead of waiting for Bokuto, Kuroo goes to him. Puts both his hands on his shoulders to ground him, right there, in the middle of their temporary dorm. He raises his eyebrow, paints a grin onto his face but he can’t hide the softness.
“C’mon, Bo. Aren’t you supposed to kiss your homies before you sleep?”
Bokuto’s staring at him, wide-eyed, speechless for once. It emboldens Kuroo, all of it—Bokuto’s soft hair, hanging in his eyes after a shower, his warm shoulders below his hands, rabbit fast heartbeat.
Something brave floods his veins. Kuroo leans forward, brushes some hair away from his forehead, and gives him a soft kiss.
Their first.
“Look, a platonic, friends-only good night kiss. Wasn’t that easy-mmph!” Kuroo swallows his words, because Bokuto grabs his head with both hands and pulls him into a kiss, lips against lips, soft with the chapstick Bokuto always steals from Akaashi, but firm and insistent, like they’re trying to say something Bokuto doesn’t have the words for.
And maybe he doesn’t, the same way Kuroo didn’t know until half an hour ago that he had a crush on his friend.
Bokuto pulls back and Kuroo takes a breath, and there’s a wide grin on his face. “Sorry,” he says, “but I couldn’t stop!” exuberant despite the long day.
“That wasn’t a ‘friends’ kiss,” Kuroo says, dumbstruck.
“No,” Bokuto replies, brushing his thumb just under Kuroo’s eye. “But maybe it’s a ‘boyfriends’ kiss?”
Kuroo blushes, someone whistles, and he remembers that Bokuto could be sly if he wanted to, stealing meat and people’s hearts like it was nothing.
“Let me give you your second ‘boyfriends’ kiss, then,” Kuroo says, leaning back in to kiss him again. This time he’s ready for it.
They’re both ready for it.
They’re not ready for Akaashi to lob a pillow directly at their heads with his laser focused aim, so they trip and fall together, leaking their laughter into each other’s lips.
Bokuto still platonically kisses his bros.
Except for Kuroo, but that’s because he’s got something better.