Chapter Text
The first time it happened was on the night of Koushi and Daichi’s wedding.
It had been a beautiful wedding, it really had. Infact, Keiji couldn’t be happier for his two friends, and he’d been rooting for them since the day Sugawara came home to their college dorm and told him he’d just met the “most amazing guy” and he didn’t want to jinx it but maybe he was the one. And, as it turns out, Daichi Sawamura had been the one.
And truly, Akaashi couldn’t be happier for Sugawara — really — but he just couldn’t help but feel left behind. Hajime and Tooru were… actually Keiji wasn’t too sure what was going on with them right now. They were either together or broken up, and if they were broken up then they’d be back together soon, so it really didn’t matter. Regardless, they had something going on. Koushi had Daichi and had him for years, and Kuroo was… well he was Kuroo.
So sue Keiji if he’d ended up sitting in the lobby of the hotel with Koutarou, drunk on champagne, complaining about how he felt left behind. Because he did! And he was allowed to feel left behind because that’s what he was, left behind!
“Am I not loveable? Am I not hot?”
He placed his wine glass on the floor and drew his knees into himself to sit cross-legged on the carpet, gesturing with his hands as he spoke.
“Do people not want me, is that what it is?”
“No! Don’t be silly, ‘Kaashi.”
Bokuto had replied with that dazzling smile of this, equally as plastered from an unreasonable amount of champagne, shifting a little so he was sitting looking to the side, one knee bent and one outstretched in front of him. His own wine glass was still clutched in his hands against his chest, liquid sloshing a little as he moved.
“But it’s true! People don’t want me Bokuto-san it’s— it’s…”
Keiji frowned with a small pout and turned his head to look at Koutarou, hand stuck in midair, mid-gesture.
“What’s the word?”
“Wrong?”
“Yes! Yes, it’s just wrong!”
“Well yes, I’d have to agree.”
Akaashi pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a knuckle and kept his frown — the pout was waning.
“Agree that people don’t want me?”
”No!” Bokuto’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, “No, no I’m saying that I agree it’s wrong that people don’t want you.”
“So you do think people don’t want me.”
Akaashi slouched against the wall, defeated, and Bokuto frantically shook his head, twisting his torso and placing his own glass down on the carpet behind him. He swallowed the last of his champagne as he twisted back around.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I mean, who wouldn’t want you?”
Now he was looking into Bokuto’s eyes — all sparkly and golden and feeling like he was drowning in them. He was still very much jutting out his bottom lip, but then Bokuto’s hand was cupping his jaw as he spoke and suddenly Akaashi couldn’t find it in him to pout anymore.
“Everyone.” He almost whined.
“That’s just not true.”
The pad of Bokuto’s thumb brushed against his cheekbone and Akaashi was melting. Bokuto’s lips looked so soft right now, and why was he looking at Bokuto’s lips? So then Akaashi stopped looking at his lips and tried looking at his eyes again, which was a huge mistake, because Bokuto was looking at his lips as well.
Keiji took a shaky breath and no one moved. Okay, he’d drunk a lot of champagne. They had both drunk a lot of champagne.
“Keep talking.”
Bokuto huffed out a laugh and brushed an outgrown piece of Akaashi’s hair behind the arm of his glasses, smiling softly.
“I mean, yeah. What’s not to want? You’re handsome, smart, and you— you know, you look really cute when you pout.”
Keiji couldn’t help but smile shyly at that, bringing his own hand up to place his palm over Koutarou’s hand on the side of his face. Their fingers laced together.
“And you’ve got that dry humour that I’ve never managed to figure out how you pull off. It’s sexy. You’re sexy.”
“You think I’m sexy?”
Akaashi chuckled a little incredulously.
“Yeah! You’re sexy! Super sexy!”
He giggled now, bringing their hands away from his face and clasping them together properly between them. They just sort of looked at each other, eyes dancing around each other’s faces in a waltz. They were drunk, sure, but this felt right. So right. Or maybe Keiji was just desperate and was going for the nearest he could find, or maybe Koutarou was his one. Hiding in plain sight.
“You should kiss me.”
Keiji rolled his shoulder against the wall to properly face Koutarou. Koutarou was grinning at him like an idiot and Keiji felt like he was floating — whether it was Bokuto or the champagne making him feel that way, there was no way to tell.
“But we’re drunk.”
“Yes, that’s why we should kiss Bokuto-san.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Of course it makes sense, I’m always right.”
Bokuto was still grinning and biting his bottom lip, as if he himself was trying not to laugh at Akaashi, but he nodded regardless and shifted once again to get impossibly closer. He used their hands that were still clasped together to pull Keiji towards him and wrap an arm around his torso, smile never once leaving his face.
“Yes, you are.”
It was an awkward position on the floor, Akaashi awkwardly sort of, almost in Bokuto’s lap on the floor of the hotel lobby. However, they were much too drunk to care about such awkward positioning in such an awkward location, and also much too probably-secretly-maybe-definitely in love with each other to care. So they kissed each other.
It was soft and tender and everything Keiji wanted — everything Keiji needed. Their lips slotted against one another’s almost innocently; almost because it lasted much too long for it to be described as innocent in earnest. Keiji pulled back with a small gasp, the smack of their lips parting sounding entirely too dirty for what it was. Oh my god, why had he never kissed Bokuto Koutarou before?
“Mh— .” Akaashi was gasping for breath a little, “Your room?”
“Yeah, yes, yep.”
Bokuto nodded frantically and scrambled to get up, offering Akaashi a hand to help him get up. The two of them stumbled a little and just giggled through it, hanging on to each other’s arms as they tumbled through the corridors to Bokuto’s room. They’d established that Kuroo definitely wouldn’t be coming back to the room tonight, so clamoured into the room all over each other — maybe forgetting to put the door on the latch.
Once they’d started it was like they couldn’t stop. Everything else in Keiji’s head just simply melted away like candy floss in his mouth, the only thing in his head — or his mouth for that matter — was Bokuto Koutarou. And it felt like that was just how it was meant to be — how it should be.
“Koutarou…” Keiji gasped between desperate kisses, lacing his fingers through Koutarou’s hair, “Mh— Kou.”
“Yeah?”
Bokuto was equally occupied, currently working on removing their waistcoats of their groomsmen clothes, flinging them somewhere across the room.
“Why have we never done this before?”
“Fuck, I don’t know.”
They did. They very much did know. Akaashi and Iwaizumi may only be half brothers, but they were close, and Iwaizumi could get extremely protective over his younger brother. And Bokuto was Iwaizumi’s closest friend from college, so things might not go down too well if he hooked up with his brother. So that was probably why they’d never done this before.
Although, none of this hit either Koutarou or Keiji until the morning. And when it did, it took a while for it to hit at all.
Keiji had woken up first with a pained groan, feeling like all the champagne he’d drank the night before had pooled in his skull whilst he’d been asleep, and then been frozen under industrial-level low temperatures and somehow kept there. Even though it had to be awfully hot inside his head — he had a very busy brain.
Keiji rolled over in a feeble attempt to wake himself up, still a little fuzzy probably from the champagne currently turned to ice inside his skull, only to be pleasantly surprised by a warm body beside him. He grumbled a little and properly opened his eyes, only to squint them again at the light barrelling in through the open curtains. He groaned again — this time a hand to his face.
There was then a slight noise from beside him and Akaashi remembered that he’d very keenly deduced there was someone beside him, so he managed to open his eyes and keep them open, letting his hand fall from his face. But when that hand fell it hit skin, skin that wasn’t his own. Akaashi frowned, puzzled at his palm splayed out on… an unsettlingly familiar set of abs.
Keeping his brows pinched, he narrowed his gaze. smoothing his hand over these tantalisingly beautiful washboard abs. He was so confused — he didn’t remember anything from last night, apart from the fact that he was at a wedding. Well, he supposed it’s completely normal to hook up with someone at a wedding, that’s like a classic wedding stunt to pull, right?
At least, this is what Keiji was telling himself as he watched his hand travel up the mystery-man's torso. The dusting of chest hair across his pecs was salt and pepper, and Keiji pursed his lips now — even more confused. Salt and pepper body hair meant one of two things; Akaashi had either hooked up with a much older guy, which honestly couldn’t be put past him, or…
Well, he only knew one person with black and white hair. And in all honesty he wasn’t sure whether it was natural or not, but as his hand continued up the contours of this body he suddenly became very, very sure. Because his hand was about to be cupping Bokuto Koutarou’s jaw.
Oh.
Oh.
He bolted upright and gasped, hand adorning Bokuto’s collar bone now clamped over his mouth.
“Oh my God!”
Akaashi hadn’t meant to yell, but Bokuto had practically leapt up from the mattress with a garbled shout, drool dried to the corner of his mouth and hair stuck up in directions Akaashi didn’t realise was possible. Oh God, oh God, oh God… what had he done?
“What! What? Why are we yelling!”
Bokuto had a pillow clutched to his chest, frantic.
“No, Bokuto-san it’s just—“
Akaashi reached out a hand in an attempt to soothe him — to stop him from yelling — but flinched when he came into contact with hot skin. He pulled back, making note to keep his hands to himself. Although, it wasn’t in time enough to go unnoticed by Bokuto, who whipped his head around at the fingers brushing his bicep. It felt like feathers.
“Akaashi? Why are you—“
Bokuto cut himself off, suddenly extremely hyper aware of his surroundings. And the situation. He took one hand away from the pillow clutched to his torso and used it to lift up the duvet so he could look under it. He brought it down with a whump, whipping his head back round to look at Akaashi, equally startled.
“I’m naked.”
“Yes.”
“Are you naked?”
Keiji knew the answer but copied Koutarou in checking underneath the duvet anyway.
“Yes.”
“Did we—?
“Yes, yes I think so.”
Bokuto looked around the room as if that would provide him with any answers about anything, whilst Akaashi scrambled to pull the duvet up and over him so he could shrink into the mattress.
“Well I’ve never done that with you before!”
Keiji looked at Koutarou, incredulous.
“What?”
“Well, I’ve never had sex with you before.”
“Oh my God, we had sex.”
Keiji raked his hands through his hair in exasperation and slouched against the headboard. He’d just slept with Bokuto Koutarou. Bokuto Koutarou. And the worst part of it all was that it had been amazing, and even though he couldn’t remember who he’d hooked up with that night, he’d remembered the hook up itself vividly. It had been the best he’d ever had.
“Was it not good?”
Keiji’s eyebrows crowded and he shook his head, suddenly feeling a little frantic himself.
“No! No, oh my God no. It was good. It was— yeah,” Keiji scoffed, “Yeah, it was good.”
“Oh really?”
Bokuto was smirking now, leaning sideways towards Akaashi in the bed — he looked incredibly proud of himself. Akaashi found it sickeningly endearing, rendered completely helpless by the smile blooming across his face.
“Shut up.”
“Oh but I don’t want to!”
Koutarou rolled to bring the weight of his body over Keiji’s, using one arm to prop himself up and bringing the other to wrap around Keiji’s torso. The two of them were all smiles, that feeling of melting candy floss from last night feeling evergreen. Kissing each other again just felt like the natural order of things, like a missing puzzle piece or forgotten ingredient of a recipe. Again, it just felt right.
“I don’t really want you to either.”
Keiji whispered against Koutarou’s lips, bringing his own hands up to card his fingers through that mop of two-toned hair with a stupid smile. Keiji felt stupid.
“Good.”
Bokuto replied lowly, leaning in again with a smile just as stupid as Akaashi’s, also feeling just as stupid. It was sweet and tender and everything good, both of them melting into each other like butter through a hot knife. He could’ve stayed here forever, making out with Bokuto lazily in the dappled morning light between giggles and breathy laughs.
They were about to roll over, the kiss deepening so they were licking into each other’s mouths slowly and sensually — lost in their own little world. However, Keiji didn’t get the chance to climb on top of Koutarou like he wanted to, because there was a quick succession of raps on the door before it burst open.
Everything came to a screeching halt and Akaashi just did the first thing his instincts told him to and buried himself under the covers with a (hopefully) inaudible squeak. Bokuto on the other hand — who was on all fours from crawling over Akaashi — didn’t get the memo straight away and was a little puzzled as Keiji disappeared into what seemed like the abyss. It wasn’t until he heard Kuroo’s booming that he caught on. This was bad.
“Bro the breakfast buffet is insane, you better— ohoho, what did I walk in on.”
Bokuto grimaced at the headboard in front of him, trying to think of something, anything, that would explain why he was on all fours under the covers. Alone. 100%, definitely, undoubtedly alone.
“Yoga.”
“What?”
“Yeah uh—“ Oh my God, why did he say that? “Just doing some yoga, it’s good for you bro.”
He looked over his shoulder at Kuroo, an awkward smile decorating his face. Kuroo just looked puzzled, and then pointed to his own neck.
“But you have…”
Bokuto tried to look down at his collarbone visible to Kuroo and, what do you know, it was in fact littered with hickies.
“Uh yeah. Yeah I know, that’s why I’m… I’m doing yoga.”
“Because you got laid last night?”
Bokuto had no idea whether Kuroo was buying it, but he had dug this hole much too deep for him to back out of it now. He must commit to the bit.
“Yeah, pulled a muscle.” He offered with a breathy chuckle, “You know how it is.”
“Wild one, huh?”
What? Bokuto turned back to the headboard and pulled a face.
“Sure, sure. Can you just— let me finish my… yoga.”
“Sure thing, man. I just came for my wallet.”
Kuroo grabbed it off his dresser and left the room, closing the door behind him. Bokuto huffed out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding in and rolled onto his back, whilst Keiji emerged tentatively from under the duvet and shuffled to sit up in an ever so slight panic.
“Do you think he knew I was here?”
Bokuto shook his head, making a sound as if he was gasping for air after his food went down the wrong way. He, too moved to sit up properly.
“No, I think he bought it. Which is a testament to his stupidity, actually because why the fuck did I say that?”
Akaashi shrugged, slightly bemused.
“You’re just really passionate about downward dog.”
“Shut up.“
Bokuto hit his arm playfully and Akaashi snickered behind his shoulder as he swerved it away. The laughter quietened down and then they were wstaring at each other and smiling — soft and vulnerable in the mess of Koutarou’s sheets. Oh, what were they doing? Akaashi wanted nothing but to just grab him by the sides of his face and kiss him, hard, but what did that mean? What did any of this mean?
He scratched his upper lip and sniffed a little to ease the silence, daring eye contact with Bokuto.
“What are we doing?”
Keiji watched Koutarou frown in question and felt his stomach twist unpleasantly — he looked hurt. The last thing he ever wanted to do to Koutarou was make him hurt.
“Just— I don’t know. Are we… doing this again?”
Bokuto sucked one side of his bottom lip into his mouth and stared into space, mulling it over.
“I would like to, but properly. Less drunk, more talking.” He turned to look at Akaashi, “I think you’re lovely.”
“Really?” Akaashi looked at him in a sort of disbelief, “Lovely?”
Akaashi Keiji had been described as many things, and lovely had never really been one of them. Except maybe from his own mother — but she was biased. He sat up a little straighter and folded his hands into his lap, wondering what about him possibly clued Bokuto in on using that particular word to describe Akaashi.
Bokuto on the other hand was beaming, and had shuffled a little to turn to face Keiji properly, grasping one of his folded hands to clasp between his own.
“Yeah, lovely. Everytime you come back from a shitty date to the coffeehouse, maybe me and Suga are in there already, and you throw yourself onto the couch and mumble about how awful it was.”
He looked so happy to detail these memories, so much so that Keiji could do nothing but stare as Koutarou went on.
“And Suga, being the wonderful friend he is to all of us, comforts you. I just sit there and maybe pat your knee sympathetically if the opportunity arises, but all I can ever think about is how no one must understand how awesome you are if they keep giving you shitty dates.”
Keiji couldn’t help but smile when Koutarou was finished talking, reaching for one of Kou’s hands to fiddle with his fingers between his own.
“I never thought anyone saw me like that.”
“You’re nice to look at like that.”
“I look at you too, yknow.” Keiji looked away from Koutarou’s fingers and to his eyes, “More than you’d think.”
“Yeah? You do?”
Bokuto was smiling, soft and wide, and Akaashi was nodding as his eyes flitted between his own hands, messing with Bokuto’s and Bokuto’s eyes, peering into the depths of his soul. Not that he minded. Not one bit. Not if it was him.
“Watching you pick up men and women at bars with Kuroo? It killed me, your pickup lines are awful.”
Akaashi chuckled a little and Bokuto winced, palming his face with the hand not being traced by Akaashi’s willowy fingers.
“Oh I know. They’re so bad! And the worst part is that I think most of them think I’m joking, and I’m not, they actually are my best moves.”
Keiji laughed in that unbecoming nature between a giggle and a snort, finally lacing his fingers between Koutarou’s own.
“I think they’re cute.”
“Thank you!”
“Anytime.”
The heels of both their palms were now pressed into each other as they held their hands together between them. It was sweet and intimate and feeling, and Keiji still felt like it was much too early in the morning for all of this. But when Koutarou was looking at him like that — like he’d waited his entire life to be able to hold him like this — nothing really seemed like too much.
Keiji offered a simple smile and dropped his eyes to the plush of Koutarou’s lips, leaning in to press a firm kiss against them. He spoke as once he’d pulled back, finding those marigold eyes once again.
“I’d love to try and do this properly with you, Bokuto-san.”
“You aren’t just saying that because I said I want to, right? It’s okay if you don’t ’Kaashi I completely understa—“
Akaashi cut him off by catching his lips in a kiss once again, then being open from his being mid sentence allowing their lips to slot together effortlessly. They probably kissed for much longer than necessary, and much more tenderly, but Akaashi needed to shut him up — so slow and sensual was the way to go.
“Shut up,” He whispered against Bokuto’s lips as he pulled back, “I just want you.”
Keiji watched Bokuto’s lips contort into that grin he had become so fiercely enamoured with, and squeaked as Bokuto surged forward to smash their lips together once again. This one didn’t last as long, nor verged on making out, but Bokuto still managed to sound out of breath as they broke apart.
“You’ve got me.”