Chapter Text
When Bokuto-Akaashi Keiji thought of work, he thinks of morning coffee and his sunshine ball of a child running out the door before he hopped on a train and rode for about forty-five minutes before he made it to the station. It was crowded and clustered and Keiji hated every moment of it, but he grinned and beared it just to get to work on time. He apologized to people he bumped into and speed walked to his bus station. Finally, he made it to work, and rushed into the elevator.
When Keiji thought of the elevator, he thought of all the floors that whirred by as he made it to his editing company, perched nearly at the top of the tall office building. The elevator paused, a few floors before the top, and a man walked in. Keiji nodded at him, slowly, but the man seemed preoccupied with his work.
Keiji didn’t mind. It meant he didn’t have to force a conversation, something he hated but had gotten oddly used to in the cramped office building.
The man finally looked up and towards the front wall of the elevator. He squinted at the door before he smacked his forehead. He turned to Keiji, and he finally gets a good look at him.
He’s got a goddamn strong jaw, one Keiji nearly envied himself, short dark hair a bit disheveled from the morning grind. His eyes were stern and kind, something Keiji had found a fondness for in his youth. He almost didn’t notice when he spoke.
“Excuse me, what floor are you on?”
Keiji blinked. “Thirty four. Why?”
The man check his watch clicked his tongue. “Damnit. I don’t have enough time. Can you give this to Michimiya on thirty four? Tell her it’s from Sawamura.”
He’s handed a stack of papers with very neatly written kanji for “Michimiya Yui” on the top. It’s paper clipped together and the top sheet is a little off center, but it feels important. Keiji stared at it for a moment before looking back at Sawamura.
“Sure. I’ll give it to her.”
Relief flooded into Sawamura’s shoulders. Keiji smiled lightly, and heard the faint ding of the elevator finally reaching his floor. He turned to wave goodbye to Sawamura, who returned the favor graciously.
Thankfully, Keiji knew who Michimiya was, and walked over to her desk. It was cluttered with hundreds of papers making stacks that really didn’t look all too safe, but Keiji trusted her. She did manage nearly all of the editing department up on thirty four.
“Michimiya-san,” Keiji started. “I have some papers from Sawamura.”
“Sawamura?” She said, nearly the same expression of relief from Sawamura on her face. “Thank God. He’s transferring some paperwork from the accounting department a few floors up and I really needed these papers. Thank you, Bokuto-Akaashi.”
Keiji gulped. Michimiya was one of the few people on the floor that actually called him by what he wanted. Of course, it meant that she’d dropped the “san,” but Keiji would take what he could get. He cringed any time that the staff members just called him “Bokuto” or just “Akaashi” or worse, dropped them both after knowing them for no time and called him Keiji because the other two were too hard.
It wasn’t that hard, they just didn’t want to try.
He sat down in his office chair and stared at the photo on his desk. It was him, Koutaro, and Shouyo, after Koutaro had won a massive game for his volleyball team. The medal didn’t hang around Koutaro’s shoulder, but Shouyo’s. Kou said it was because the whole family had really helped him win. Shouyo’s face lit up at that, and Keiji smiled warmly. It was the perfect photo.
Keiji shook his head. He needed to check his schedule. So far, he just needed to call Sato-sensei and get the manuscript, then attend the meeting with the other members of the editing crew.
He leaned back on his chair for a second, cracked his knuckles, and picked up the phone. He dialed for Sato, and waited.
“Hello, Sensei? Yes, it’s me, Bokuto-Akaashi. I’d really like it if you could fax me your manuscript later.”
****
And now, Keiji was bored. Another boring meeting full of authors that hardly seem to know how difficult it is to edit a book and rookie editors that seem to think the best idea to get manuscripts is to ask politely. The lead editor droned on and on about how the author is always right and editors need to be more and more careful these days. More gentle towards the authors.
Each one sent out a sigh. Keiji saw an old author of his, who never sent in their manuscripts on time, and frowns.
Author’s always right, totally. He thought. Of course they’re always right, they never want to be wrong.
With one last hurrah, the meeting came to a close. Keiji bowed to his fellow editors and the authors, and made a brisk walk to the exit. It took much longer than expected to get that damn manuscript off of Sato, so he was desperately unprepared for the meeting. He spent the whole time taking notes and trying to catch up. On top of that, the meeting had run a little late, and he didn’t want to spend time at work when he could be at home. He loved his job, of course he did, but he didn’t know if he liked it in that particular building.
He rushed to the elevator and made it in without a hitch. He didn’t even look at the obvious other person inside, and just slammed the button for the bottom floor. It took him a moment to realize that it was already pressed. He turned to the other person in the elevator. Sawamura.
“Good afternoon,” he said. There’s a hint of a smile on his face.
“Good afternoon.” Keiji responds. He was a bit embarrassed, to say the least.
“Did Yui get the packet?” Sawamura asked, although his face said he already knew.
“Yes, she did.” Keiji said. “She looked really thankful.”
“Ah, good.” Sawamura said, staring at nothing. “You know, I never caught your name.”
“Bokuto-Akaashi Keiji.” Keiji said like he rehearsed it. “And you’re Sawamura...”
“Sawamura Daichi. Nice to meetcha.” He grinned.
The elevator dinged as they hit the ground floor. Sawamura and Keiji walked out together and through the front door. And then onto the same street. And took the same turn.
“Are you going to the train station?” Sawamura asked.
“Yes, I am. You as well?” Keiji asked.
“Yeah. Mind if we walk together?”
“Not at all.”
Keiji and Sawamura made idle chat as they made their way to the train station. Keiji’s phone buzzed in his breast pocket. He pulled out his phone to see Koutaro and Shouyo smiling proudly in front of completed math homework. The words on the bottom of his worksheet spelled out “I love my dads!” in English. Keiji smiled. Attatched to it was a little text from Koutaro.
How dare you make our son so determined to work that he doesnt even want 2 play vball w/ me :”( i feel so son-trayed.
Get it? like bro-trayed (like kuroo!) but with my son!
Keiji suppressed a giggle. Son-trayed ? What did that even mean?
Sawamura leaned over his shoulder and saw Keiji’s family. “Kids?”
“Child and husband, yes.” Keiji sighed.
“Cute kid,” Sawamura noted. “Though I have to say, my husband is prettier.”
Keiji’s eyebrows shot up. He honestly didn’t expect another gay person in their building. He thought he was the only one. Well, at least in the editing department. Sawamura checked all of his pockets frantically before he pulled out his own phone. The wallpaper was of him, who Keiji assumed to be his husband -- a really pretty man with silver hair and a mole right below his eye -- and a child. Although the child looked irrationally upset, having his parents around him made his pout even more adorable.
“That’s Koushi,” Sawamura pointed to the silver-haired man, “and my kid, Tobio.”
“You have a very beautiful family.” Keiji said.
Sawamura puffed up his chest. “I do indeed! And my boys a child prodigy, I swear. I’ve never seen a kid more obsessed with volleyball in my life.”
The two got to the bus stop and waited for it for a second. “Oh, I beg to differ. Sho-tan doesn’t talk about anything other than volleyball and his Uncle Kenma.” Keiji said. “Although, that might be Kou-tan’s fault.” He added as an afterthought. They walked on the bus and took a seat near the back.
“Oh, really?” Sawamura said as they sat. “My kid’s a setter, and he’s been looking for someone to hit his tosses.”
Keiji smiled. “I think Sho-tan needs someone his age group to play volleyball with. He can’t stay with the national team forever...”
“The national team?” Sawamura looked shocked. “Kou-tan... Kou-tan...” Keiji assumed it would take him about another minute to figure out who “Kou-tan” was. When the other man figured it out, Keiji nearly laughed.
“You mean Bokuto Koutaro? The wing spiker from the national team?” Sawamura said with his jaw nearly on the floor.
“Yes, I do.” Keiji said with pride. “Although, it would be Bokuto-Akaashi Koutaro, we share our last names.”
“Sorry about that,” Sawamura said. “Koushi just took mine. Although I do miss calling him Sugar.”
Keiji laughed along with Sawamura for a while. They swapped terrible family stories, from the first time Shouyo tumbled into the bushes by their volleyball net to the time, apparently, Tobio tried to smile and sent a puppy running with his tail between his legs. The bus ride seemed so much shorter with someone to talk to.
They left the bus and talked while they made their way to the station. Of course, they were in different directions. “Oh, I have an idea, Sawamura-san.” He said.
“What is it?” Sawamura hummed.
Keiji passed his phone to Sawamura. “Here, give me your phone number. Maybe we can set up a play date between Tobio and Sho-tan?”
“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.” Sawamura said. After their contacts has successfully been transferred, Sawamura nodded confidently. “I’ll call you later tonight. We can set something up for next weekend.”
Keiji nodded in agreement. They split off onto different trains, but Keiji was thankful he talked to him. First time interactions don’t usually go that well. One the train, he called Koutaro to inform him he’d be there soon, and within five minutes, Keiji was home and heading to the backyard with his family.
It’s hard to spike without a setter, they said. Maybe they could spend five minutes. Then Keiji needed to make dinner.
Meanwhile, Daichi decided that he’d best get home as soon as possible. Koushi had sent him a text -- something about Tobio needing help on his homework that Daichi really didn’t believe, Koushi is a teacher, goddamn it, he can help his own kid -- and wanted to get back as soon as possible. It’s not like saying “Tobio needs help” would make him want to come home any less.
His train was surprisingly empty, only a few irresponsible teenagers huddled in the corner of the train car kept him company. They weren’t very conversational, anyway.
Instead, Daichi stared out the window, watching the cityscape blow past and the sun sink into the horizon. He decided it was very much worth it to stay in Miyagi. He loved the landscape and the air around the area. And the volleyball team is a plus.
He got off the train and walked back to his house, each step feeling heavier than the last. He really, really, really wanted to get home. He saw his house crawl into his line of sight and sighed. Daichi was ready for a warm plate of food and his family.
He opened the door to a familiar sight. Koushi was hanging over Tobio, who was diligently scribbling away at his homework. Koushi commented every once and awhile on Tobio’s sentence structure or penmanship.
"Tobio, sweetheart, you have to finish your English homework." Koushi said. Daichi assumed that Koushi could handle this. He slipped off his shoes and placed his bag by the door.
"No way. Why do we have to learn English anyway? We're Japanese." Tobio said. He was right, but that didn't mean he didn't have to do his work.
Daichi saw the light in Koushi’s eye. He’d gotten an idea.. "Because you won't be able to graduate."
Tobio looked up at him. "Why does that matter?"
Koushi slid next to Tobio on their table. "You want to go to Karasuno, right?"
Tobio nodded slowly.
"What grade do you have to be in to go?"
"Duh, Dad, I need to graduate my third year of middle school." Tobio snapped. Then it hit him. Tobio sat up abruptly. "I won't be able to go if I don't graduate!"
Tobio leaned over his work and finished it in near record time. Koushi puffed his chest up proudly. Some strategies work on middle schoolers as well as elementary schoolers. He patted his son's back and wandered into the kitchen. Daichi watched him walk right past him, collect his things to make dinner, and get it started. From his place in the kitchen, Daichi heard Tobio's lead snap. He laughed, and Tobio cursed under his breath.
"No cursing in the house, Tobio!" Koushi called.
Daichi walked over to his husband and kissed him on the cheek. "Come on, Koushi, let him say what he wants. A young boy needs to express himself!"
“Hush, Daichi,” Koushi mused.
Tobio had looked over and gagged. “Dad, no, that’s weird!”
Daichi walked into the room and ruffled his son’s hair.
“Daaaaaad, no! That’s weird!” Tobio yelled again.
Daichi laughed low in his chest. “No, you’re weird!”
Tobio stuck his tongue out at his father until he shushed him to get back to work. Tobio grumbled again before his lead snapped. He nearly threw his pencil at the wall.
“Tobio, please. Your pencil isn’t doing anything.” Daichi said.
Daichi hoped Koushi made them a lot of food. He was entirely exhausted and just wanted a warm meal before he got in the bath. To distract himself from his ebbing hunger, he leaned over to see what his son was doing.
“How much you got left?” He asked.
“Just English. I still think it’s dumb that we need to learn English if we’re Japanese...” Tobio grumbled.
Daichi nodded in agreement. “But imagine you become a super-famous volleyball player, right?”
Tobio leaned close. Daichi had struck a positive conversation topic.
“You’re a super-mega famous volleyball player, and you have to do an interview in English. At first, you’re say, “sure! I can do it!” But then you remember that you failed English in middle school and have to decline the interview and then no one in America sees how awesome you are.”
Tobio’s eyes went wide. “I can’t disappoint my American fans...” He said with a type seriousness only Tobio could have. Once again inspired to finish his homework, Tobio scratched down “I want to play volleyball” as the last answer on his worksheet. A sense of pride welled through him.
“So, champ in the making,” Daichi started. He felt like a motivational speaker from a videogame. “I think I might’ve found someone to play volleyball with.”
Tobio looked up with interest. “Someone to hit my toss?”
Daichi leaned back. “I just met his dad today, actually.”
“Then you don’t know him.” Tobio reasoned.
“We’re in the same building! That’s close,” Daichi said.
Koushi slid his (wonderfully made) food in front of the two of them. “Oh? Are you going to ditch me for this mystery work man?”
“He was kind of pretty....” Daichi said under his breath.
Koushi slapped the back on his head. “Excuse you?”
“You’re prettier, dear,” Daichi said. He really hoped Koushi knew he was joking. “Anyway, his name is Bokuto-Akaashi, I think? He’s married to that famous spiker from the international team.”
Tobio stood up from his seat, his stir fry nearly pouring all over him. “You’re kidding! You know Bokuto-Akaashi Koutaro’s husband?”
Daichi and Koushi looked to one another. Daichi shrugged. “I guess?”
Tobio sat down slowly and took a few bites of his dinner. The air was uneasily stiff for a few seconds before Tobio decided to speak again.
“I’d, uh,” he stammered out. “I’d like to meet your friend’s kid.”
Koushi gasped. He held his hands next to his mouth and then shook Daichi’s shoulder. “Tobio wants friends !”
Tobio’s face went beet red as he ate the rest of his dinner. He huffed and pouted and grumbled about his day but ne never revoked his statement about meeting the other kid. Hell, Daichi didn’t even know the kids name, (Shou-tan definitely did not count, Shou could be short for anything. His name might even be Shou, for all Daichi knew,) but to see Tobio happy about meeting someone was a near first and Daichi was all over Tobio having someone to talk about volleyball with. Daichi was immensely proud that he had found someone to be friends with Tobio, and for all he knew, more friends for him and Koushi. God knows that Koushi wants more friends in his “Pretty Setter Squad.”