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Akaashi takes a sip of his hot chocolate and lets the slow-moving warmth calm him. It settles comfortably in his stomach, loosening up his muscles and bringing peace to even the farthest reaches of his subconscious. Somewhere behind him, his stereo pours out soft piano covers of Christmas carols. The only thing that could make his evening more complete would be a fire, but alas, the rental house didn’t have a fireplace.
That’s fine. Akaashi curls his legs underneath him, wedging himself tighter into the chair and sinking against its softness. Even without the crackle of a fire, Akaashi will have a wonderful Christmas Eve. He ate early today in order to avoid the hustle and bustle of his roommates in the kitchen, struggling to make the perfect dinner for them and their partners.
Well. He doesn’t need that. Single living, and all that jazz.
Living alone doesn’t bother Akaashi much—after the noise and lack of privacy college dorms supplied him with, he’s content to live alone forever—but around the holidays, it can feel a little lonely. Luckily, Akaashi has developed the cure-all to loneliness: a warm drink and holiday music, perched by the window, watching the world go by.
From his spot by the window, Akaashi can see people wandering down the streets, slow, as they always are during the holiday season. It’s nice, Akaashi thinks. People take the time to stop and appreciate little things, like the wreaths on the streetlamps, or the powdery snow starting to fall. Everything has a touch of magic to it, every heart beats just a little bit faster, and every person feels just a little bit younger and wilder around this time of year.
His roommates laugh loudly at some joke in the kitchen, and Akaashi can only smile. Another glance out his window reveals a hole in the clouds where he can see a single, bright star. Before he can catch himself, Akaashi finds himself wishing half-heartedly that one day, someone will just drop into his life and he will finally have someone to share his Christmas with.
Alright, so he’s not thrilled about being alone this year, but he won’t sulk. After all, the snowfall is beau—
Womp.
Akaashi jumps in his chair, spilling some of the chocolate on his hands, burning them, but he’s far more worried about that shape that just fell from the second story of the house. Considerably flustered, Akaashi sets his mug to the side and scrambles out of his chair to rush to the window. He’s horrified, absolutely horrified, to see that what fell was a very person-shaped black lump. And it’s not moving.
Panicked, Akaashi looks around his room, hoping to find something to help him deal with this situation. Should he call an ambulance? The police? Has he really been witness to a death on Christmas Eve? How was that poor person’s family going to take their death?
No. Akaashi is better than this. He takes a deep breath and clears his mind. He doesn’t actually know that the person is dead. They could simply be injured and need assistance. Even the briefest of eavesdropping lets Akaashi know his housemates didn’t hear the person fall and haven’t seen them either. It’s up to him.
Akaashi pulls on his coat determinedly and marches outside.
The cold air hits Akaashi like a punch in the face, far removed from the comfortable heat of his room. He tucks his jacket tighter around him and steps outside, gritting his teeth against the cold. He marches around the side of the house to where the fallen body is, and much to his relief, the person fell into a small snowdrift and is now groaning and rolling around.
The person swears colorfully, clutching his leg, then flops onto his back, spread-eagled. It’s probably in poor taste for Akaashi to think an injured person is being unnecessarily dramatic, but he raises an eyebrow nonetheless.
“Are you alright?” He calls out, startling the man on the ground, who tilts his head back to look at Akaashi.
“Quite fine,” he replies cheerfully, far too cheerfully for someone who had just been swearing in pain.
“Are you sure?” Akaashi asks, walking closer. “I saw your fall from my window; it was an impressive drop.”
The man sits up, and for a second, Akaashi heart stops in fear. His hair is spiked up every which way, almost like he had been electrocuted—
“Aw, darn,” the man mutters, patting his head. “And I had just fixed it up, too.”
Akaashi blinks. “You fell from two stories up, and you’re worried about…your hair?”
“I told you, I’m fine!” The man insists, this time looking back at Akaashi and winking. “Cats always land on their feet. ‘Sides, you have no idea how untamable this mess is.”
It’s amazing, Akaashi thinks, how fast you can go from worried to exasperated in a matter of minutes. “As interesting as that is, you are not a cat, and you need to go to the emergency room to get your leg checked out.”
“No, really, it’s barely strained! I landed on my feet and rolled out of the landing,” the man explains, gesturing with his hands.
“Oh boy,” Akaashi deadpans, pressing the back of his hand to the man’s forehead. “Seems like you may have a concussion, too. Better get you to the hospital.” He grabs the man under his armpits and starts to haul him to his feet.
“Hey!” The stranger protests, wiggling in Akaashi’s grasp. “That doesn’t even make any sense! You can’t test for concussion by pressing the back of your hand to my head!”
“Must be the brain damage talking, you’re starting to sound loopy,” Akaashi says, throwing one of the man’s arms around his shoulder to help take the weight off the leg he had been favoring. Unfortunately, the guy is way taller than him and all limbs, so it’s more like having a giant octopus leaning on him than a person.
“Where are you taking me?” The man asks finally, having given up on escaping Akaashi’s clutches.
“To my car, then to the hospital, where I’m dumping your body and then going back to my peaceful Christmas Eve,” Akaashi grumbles. “Who gets themselves injured on Christmas Eve?”
“Guess I’m just one of a kind,” the man says brightly, seeming cheered by Akaashi’s annoyance with him. “Thank you, uh…”
“Akaashi Keiji,” Akaashi supplies.
“Keiji-kun!” The man chirps.
Akaashi nearly trips and sends his injured companion hurtling face first into the concrete. They both sputter and stumble, gracelessly regaining their balance, and the man coughs nervously. “Um, I guess just Akaashi-kun, then?”
“That would be…for the best,” Akaashi says in a small voice. “Do you have a name, or will I have to keep calling you Weird Cat Man in my head?”
“Kuroo Tetsurou,” he introduces himself.
“Alright, Kuroo-kun—”
“Tetsurou is fine.”
“Kuroo-kun,” Akaashi grinds out, feeling a vein pop in his forehead. “We aren’t friends.”
“We kind of are, though,” Kuroo remarks as Akaashi dumps him somewhat roughly into his passenger seat and aggressively buckles him up. Not because he was worried or anything, but because with Kuroo’s sense of self-preservation, he probably didn’t even know how to work a seatbelt.
“Think about it,” Kuroo says, and oh my god, he’s still talking? “You rescued me even though you could have ignored me—”
“I couldn’t have just ignored you,” Akaashi says, horrified.
“—and you’re driving me to the hospital on your own on Christmas Eve. Also we’re housemates, so we might as well be friends.”
Akaashi grips the steering wheel and turns to look at Kuroo with what he imagines must be a mixture of despair and murderous rage. “If we’re housemates, then how come I’ve never heard you in our house? You never seem to shut up.”
Kuroo shrugs one shoulder and offers Akaashi a lopsided smile. “I don’t really have any friends here and I work late, so. It makes sense that you would never see or hear me.”
Reconciling the urge to hug Kuroo, to punch him in the face, and to look him over in detail a few hundred more times is very, very difficult. Akaashi doesn’t want to feel bad for the guy driving him up the wall. He also wants to fervently ignore that even with his stupid, electrified-looking hair, Kuroo is some brand of tall, dark, and handsome.
“I don’t like you,” Akaashi tells him, but it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than any kind of ultimate declaration.
“Okay, Akaashi-kun,” Kuroo says, smiling so brightly Akaashi knows he doesn’t buy it either.
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By the time they get to the hospital, Kuroo has weaseled out tons of information about Akaashi and shared twice as much about himself, but Akaashi still doesn’t know how exactly he ended up falling from the second story window, only that it happened.
“Get out of my car, you wet fleabag,” Akaashi grumbles once he parks, to which Kuroo reminds him he still needs help walking, and Akaashi has to put up with even more Kuroo in close proximity to him. Great. At least he doesn’t smell like a wet animal. Actually, he smells like Christmas with a hint of cinnamon, fresh enough that if Akaashi didn’t have a brain-to-muscle filter, he might have pressed closer against Kuroo to smell him more.
Instead, he passes Kuroo off on a nurse with a “good riddance” muttered under his breath as Kuroo is taken back, waving at Akaashi as he goes. There’s no reason to stay, as he’s not family, nor a friend. Kuroo can find his own damn ride home, flash that heart-stopping smile at some young girl, excuse me, miss, I really could use a ride home…
There’s absolutely no reason to stay, Akaashi tells himself as he sinks into a waiting room chair. I didn’t want to spend Christmas Eve in a hospital anyway, Akaashi thinks as he flips through the magazines on the table beside him. He’s a ridiculous guy and I don’t like him, he tries to convince himself as he rereads the same sentence about losing five pounds in two weeks for the twelfth time. Regular diets not cutting it for you? Try our new, fat free blah blah blah…
“But do you have a product to help someone forget dumb acquaintanceships that don’t matter?” Akaashi mutters at the magazine. “How can I worry about my weight when I have Kuroo Tetsurou to worry about?”
“Excuse me, sir.” The voice of a nurse has Akaashi jumping out of his skin. The nurse smiles at him politely. “Your friend is back. He said you wouldn’t mind taking him home.”
“Like hell I don’t mind,” Akaashi mutters under his breath, but thanks the nurse and takes in Kuroo’s sorry state as he stumbles out on crutches.
“Severe sprain, no concussion,” he says to Akaashi’s raised eyebrow. “Told you I was fine.”
“You won’t be very fine if I knock your crutches out from under you,” Akaashi threatens, and Kuroo laughs loudly. It’s an ugly sound, and Akaashi wishes he could find fault in it.
“Aw, you wouldn’t,” Kuroo says. “You’re way too nice of a guy to ever hurt an invalid.”
“A fair estimation, Kuroo-kun,” Akaashi admits. “However, I’m not so kind that I won’t aggressively ensure you go to bed on time and take your medication, no matter how unpleasant those things might be.”
Kuroo laughs again. “Don’t tempt me—I might just have to get you to come and take care of me while I’m sick.”
Kuroo probably doesn’t mean to, but he wanders just a little too close to flirting territory with his last comment, and they both end up red in the face. Kuroo laughs awkwardly, trying to make it seem like a joke, but the damage is done. Akaashi is way too aware of Kuroo’s skin near his own, and of Kuroo’s mannerisms, and of the blush on his face, why was he blushing…
“In any case,” Akaashi coughs. “I’m glad it wasn’t worse than a sprain.”
“Yeah,” Kuroo agrees. “Me too.”
Akaashi is so distracted, he forgets to ask why Kuroo had fallen from the window in the first place until he’s helping Kuroo out of the car. “Kuroo-kun,” he says suddenly, remembering. “Why did you fall out of the window, anyway?”
“Oh, that?” Kuroo scratches his nose, embarrassed. “I, uh, was hanging up Christmas lights? On the outside of my window? And I guess the roof got slippery, so I fell.”
Akaashi stills. “You were hanging up Christmas lights. Outside on the roof. While it was snowing.”
“Um. Yes?” Kuroo squeaks. “Akaashi, it’s not—”
“Are you actually brain dead?” Akaashi asks, sounding more and more hysterical with every word. “Who puts up lights during snowfall? Who climbs up on the roof without telling anyone in case they die? No, the real question is why were you hanging up Christmas lights on the night of Christmas Eve?”
“Akaashi, I’m sorr—”
“You better be sorry,” Akaashi growls, grabbing Kuroo by the collar of his jacket and nearly knocking him off balance. “You could have died, and you would have made all your friends and family sad on Christmas—oh shut up, I know you have friends somewhere, don’t try that shit on me.”
Kuroo looks very, very small and very, very cowed. “I expect you to take responsibility for your actions,” Akaashi sniffs, calming down but still not letting him go. “You must apologize to all your loved ones and people affected by your childish and self-endangering actions, or I will never forgive you.”
“Okay,” Kuroo agrees softly.
“And you won’t do it again,” Akaashi insists.
“I won’t,” Kuroo assures him.
Akaashi sighs and loosens his grip on Kuroo’s jacket. He’s way overdue for a new cup of hot chocolate, possibly with whiskey in it to lessen the stress of this entire eveni—why is Kuroo’s hand on his cheek.
Kuroo’s hand is on his cheek, crutches jammed tight under his arms, and he’s brushing away some snow that has fallen on Akaashi during his rant. His other hand is on Akaashi’s jacket, and he’s tugging him close, just a little bit, to lean in. His breath tickles Akaashi’s cheek and then his lips—warm, warm and so soft—are pressed to his skin, melting the snow and setting Akaashi’s heart pounding.
“I’m sorry, Keiji-kun,” Kuroo whispers in his ear.
“Wh-what?” Akaashi squeaks.
Kuroo smiles, dumb and lopsided and cute. “You said to apologize to the people I affected with my stupid actions. I was just starting with you.”
Akaashi opens his mouth, closes it, lets his brain cool down for a moment, and then opens his mouth again. “Do you want to come inside?” He asks.
“Well, considering that is my house, yes,” Kuroo laughs.
“No, no,” Akaashi corrects. “I mean…do you want to come to my…room, oh my god, this sounds far too intimate, oh dear, I can’t do this—”
He covers his face and breaks off, making tiny noises of distress, but Kuroo shakes his head and pulls at Akaashi’s hands gently. “Hey, hey—it’s okay, you silly sausage, I know what you meant.”
“What the fuck is a ‘silly sausage’?” Akaashi squeaks, still hiding his face.
“A mystical creature that frees the listener from embarrassment by embarrassing the speaker more,” Kuroo explains, grinning as Akaashi reluctantly peels his hands from his face.
“Drinks sound good?” Kuroo offers.
“Yes,” Akaashi agrees. “Drinks sound excellent right now.”
Upon reflection, walking up the path to their shared house, Akaashi thinks he may actually be very fortunate to have stumbled upon Kuroo this night. He was…a silly guy. And a reckless guy. He probably told terrible jokes, and would tease Akaashi, and wanted to keep a million cats, and had a warm lap to lie in, and he definitely had warm lips, and, and…
And Akaashi was glad that Kuroo had dropped into his life so suddenly.
Wait a moment. Dropped?
Akaashi stops dead in his tracks, a sense of dread settling in his gut as he clearly remembers wishing that someone would drop into his life that he could share Christmas with. Drop.
“What’s wrong, Keiji-kun?” Kuroo asks, looking worried.
“Oh, nothing,” Akaashi says calmly. “I just might be responsible for having you fall from that window after all.”
“What?” Kuroo looks baffled.
“Let’s go get those drinks, Tetsurou. You’re going to need one.”