Work Text:
Bokuto isn’t home. Akaashi notices it immediately, the lack of greeting as he’s toeing off his shoes an irrefutable tell. No matter what the alpha is doing he always makes sure to holler a hello to his mate if he’s not able to get up and give him a proper welcome home kiss. Akaashi places his coat on the hook and pads to the calendar on the fridge. He proves himself right, Bokuto should be home by now. While Thursdays are not their official date night, by any means, it is an evening they typically spend together.
He pulls out his phone to reveal no messages from him. It’s not entirely concerning, his alpha is prone to distraction. Akaashi sends a quick text letting him know he’s home before heading to change clothes. The second he enters the bedroom something is off. He pauses unbuttoning his shirt to take a deep inhale, trying to decipher what is different about the surrounding pheromones.
He sniffs again but he can’t figure it out until he looks at the nest. While subtle, the blankets are definitely amiss. Akaashi knows he can be a restless sleeper, the only thing typically able to calm his fidgeting body is Bokuto’s arms around him, holding him steady. That’s how he woke up this morning, the alpha spooning him. So he knows it wasn’t a fitful slumber that had made him kick the blankets away. He tentatively steps closer. He would smell it if anyone else had been in the apartment, and he knows Bokuto hasn’t had anyone over lately.
But someone has definitely touched the nest. Not that Bokuto would allow it anyway, the alpha is just as protective over the structure as Akaashi is. He leans close, taking a whiff just to confirm that yes, it’s only his and Bokuto’s scents. Their coffee and pomegranate never fails to make him swoon, they shouldn’t go so well together but they do. The fruity sweetness perfectly offsets the underlying bitterness of his mocha.
Akaashi quickly removes the rest of his work clothes, ever a stickler about not wanting foreign scents in his safe place. He pulls on a loose sweater, almost baggy enough to cover his briefs, too occupied with the nest to worry about wearing proper clothes. He doesn’t even bother to take off his collar.
Inspecting the barrier of the nest shows no abnormalities. The structure takes up the entirety of the large mattress it’s on, more than enough room for two grown men to sprawl out. He climbs in, careful not to jostle around the pillows or stuffed animals around the edge. As soon as he’s inside he sees the blankets have been adjusted.
Where there used to be his favored red knit blanket layed delicately over the middle, perfect for him to roll around in, is instead a fleece. It’s no less soft, nothing but the highest quality comes inside this den, but it’s not the same. The red blanket had been the second courting gift he had ever received from Bokuto back in high school. It quickly became a staple of his nest, a steady comfort throughout the years.
The only times it has ever been removed have been for a washing. And admittedly, even that is not as often as he should. He just so hates to see it leave the nest only to have to be rescented again after. The material is finicky anyway, needing to be laundered in a specific way so it does not shrink. It’s perfect. So where the fuck is it?
The wrongness of the placement of comforters and bedclothes burns at his skin. This isn’t how the nest is supposed to look. He quickly flips up blankets, hoping the courting gift somehow got hidden underneath. All he does is make a mess.
Before he could tear the whole thing apart he forces himself to take a breath. Surely, it has to be in the wash. The only one who could have touched it is Bokuto, perhaps he just wanted to give it a cleaning. He supposes he never did give it a wash after their escapades over the weekend. In his defense, they weren't all that messy, only sweaty. It all got on Bokuto’s towel anyway, needing to reshower right after.
He stumbles out of the bedroom only to find the washing machine empty. All that lies in the dryer are clothes he has yet to fold. He leaves them be, uncaring of the wrinkles.
Bokuto has never altered his nest before. Surely, there has to be a logical explanation. He does not call him, that would be ridiculous. Akaashi will simply wait until he comes back home and then he’ll ask him. It’s not as if he’s taking the blanket away, no. The only reason someone would take a courting gift away is if they are retracting their proposition.
That’s an unproductive thought, it doesn’t even make sense. They’re not courting anymore, they’re already mated. In fact, they’re due to refresh their mating scars in less than a year, ensuring another five years of matehood. It’s not as if Bokuto is taking that away.
He does not allow himself to dwell on the thought.
He busies himself rearranging the blankets, trying to balance the scents and textures. No matter how many adjustments he makes, nothing eases the clench in his chest. He needs his courting blanket back. It’s the only one that soothes his skin when he rubs his face against it. It’s the best one to cuddle up in, heavy and warm. He resigns himself, waiting for Bokuto to return.
He does not ambush the alpha. He waits patiently for him to kick off his shoes and saunter into the house. He’s in sweats, different ones than he typically wears home from practice. He can’t help but ask, “were you home before?” His voice remains even, it has to. There’s no reason to waver, afterall.
Bokuto gives him a smile, “yeah, but then I had to go run an errand.” He doesn’t get to ask what the errand was before Bokuto is pulling him into his arms, giving him a kiss on the cheek. It’s a typical greeting for him, desperate to scent his omega after being apart all day. Akaashi unashamedly leans into the touch, letting his alpha ease away the anxieties still nauseating him.
He must not sterilize his scent enough because Bokuto asks, “what’s wrong?” He pulls him closer, nosing at his neck like that will give the answer. He presses right against Akaashi’s collar, not going so far as to take it off yet but it’s a close thing.
Akaashi bares his throat, thankful he didn’t have to bring it up completely on his own. “Did you change the nest?” He hopes it doesn’t come off as accusatory. He knows Bokuto, he would never do something to harm him.
He lets out a little laugh, forced and guilty. “Yeah,” he admits. One of the hands wrapped around his waist leaves, coming up so Bokuto can rub at the back of his neck. “I was just changing some stuff around, I hope you don’t mind.”
He’s lying.
Akaashi pulls back, enough to look him in the eye. Bokuto doesn’t meet his gaze, staring at where he’s thumbing at a loose thread in his sweater. Akaashi suddenly feels exposed, wishing he had put on more clothes, his bare thighs cold and trembling. He doesn’t speak at first, forcing a deep breath. When he finally answers, his voice is even, “was the nest not to your liking?” He prays his scent doesn't sour, doesn’t give away his hurt.
Bokuto has never done anything but sing praises for his nesting skills, gone on and on about how it’s the most comfortable, lovely one in the whole world. How he would never want to sleep anywhere else. He hadn’t been lying then, Akaashi would have tasted it on his skin if he was.
Bokuto’s eyes widen, a frown pulling at his lips, “no, no, baby. Nothing like that,” he assures him. “I love your nest. It’s perfect.” Then why did you change it? He bites his lip to keep from asking. He’s not trying to start a fight, he’s just so confused. “I’m sorry, I should have asked before doing anything.”
The apology eases a bit of the simmering frustration under Akaashi’s skin. He doesn’t allow himself to be stubborn, knowing that isn’t fair. “It’s your nest as much as it is mine.” It is true. It wouldn’t feel like his if Bokuto’s scent wasn’t in it, if they didn’t sleep side by side over the same blankets every night. “I want you to be comfortable.” He just wishes he would have told him, before taking the blanket away, before moving things. Akaashi would have rearranged, found something that worked for both of them without removing the courting gift.
Bokuto smiles then, all teeth and relief. “I am comfortable. C’mon, we should order dinner.” Akaashi wants to ask why he didn’t just pick something up while he was out, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t feel like being brave, like verbalizing the swirling thoughts inside his head. So he lets his mate pull him towards the couch and curls up when he goes to change. He too always has to be in clean clothes before he can settle, wanting only Akaashi’s coffee scent on his skin.
He forces deep breaths. Bokuto isn’t mad at him. He is not rejecting him. It was a simple miscalculation, an assumption that Akaashi would be fine with him changing the nest. Their nest. It is fine. It is. So Akaashi forces his lungs to expand and ignores the way it pressed painfully against his ribs.
Bokuto holds him so gently, he wouldn’t do that if he was mad at him. He would never hurt him, never, never. But when they do have the occasional argument their normal touchy feely habits get replaced by empty space and bitten off words, waiting for them both to cool down. He pulls Akaashi sideways on his lap, hand resting over his thigh. His thumb rubs back and forth over the skin, right at the edge of his briefs. It’s a bit teasing, distracting. When Bokuto asks what he wants for dinner, he shrugs, anything he wants. He kisses the side of his head and picks a mindless movie to put on, background noise.
They have some time before the food is delivered. Bokuto noses at his neck, removing the collar when Akaashi once again bares his throat. He knows he can do it himself, but oh how he likes it when his alpha’s hands are on him. Calloused fingers delicately removing the barrier between him and his scent gland. His scent blooms under the gentle ministrations of his fingers and tongue, creamer and mocha filling the room. He licks away the bitter fear and Akaashi could almost forget what he was even upset about.
The doorbell rings and they’re forced to separate. Bokuto pulls him off his lap with a firm kiss on the lips, always a bit more possessive when Akaashi isn’t fully dressed. Though they requested no contact delivery he would never let him answer the door like this, where anyone could see the faint marks on his inner thighs from a few days past. Just the thought gets his belly simmering.
Akaashi isn’t exactly expecting sex tonight, he would have been content to simply watch a movie and eat a hearty meal. He isn’t complaining though when Bokuto cradles him close, wrapping a firm arm around his waist and pulling him into his lap. He insists he feed all the bites to Akaashi. He doesn’t complain as much as he ought to, too fond of his alpha to truly put up a fuss.
It’s not until after the food is gone, their bellies full and heavy, that Bokuto really starts getting handsy. His fingers trail under his sweater, resting a warm palm over his stomach. His purrs stutter every time he teases his waistband or a nipple. He knows exactly where to touch to get a reaction, scent bright and pleased with every little sound out of Akaashi. They don’t typically fuck on the couch so it’s not a surprise when he asks to bring this to the bedroom. Akaashi nods, too busy pressing his lips anywhere he can reach to give a proper response.
Bokuto scoops him up, laughing at the small squeak his omega lets out. Strong hands grip at Akaashi’s thighs, not enough to bruise but he kind of wishes they were. He’s due for some fresh marks and love bites, if you ask him.
It’s only when Bokuto is laying him in the nest that all the wrong wrong wrongness of before comes back full force. The fleece he’s on wrinkles uncomfortably against his skin, digging into his back. He tries to ignore it, he really does, but every time he shifts it just gets more bothersome.
Bokuto notices immediately, of course he does. “Do you want me to stop?” He pulls back, no longer touching him.
Akashi shakes his head, that’s not what he wants. He wants- god. “Did you take the red blanket?” He blurts it out, too loud in the otherwise quiet of the room. He wants to do this, he does. But he can’t get comfortable and he won’t stop thinking about it until he has the blanket back, or at least knows where it is.
Bokuto gives him that sheepish look again, sitting back. He’s not sure if it’s to give himself some breathing room or Akaashi. “Uh, yeah. Sorry about that,” and he really does look apologetic. He’s scratching at his nape again, a guilty gesture. “Don’t you think it needed a break?”
Akaashi sits up, no longer wanting to be belly up. “That’s my favorite blanket.” It comes out sharper than he intended, his scent already souring.
Bokuto’s eyes are wide and earnest, “I know, I know.” He opens his mouth only to make an aborted sound, not finishing his thought.
Akaashi pulls his sweater down but he still shivers at the draft. “Where is it?” He knows it’s not a big deal. It’s only a blanket. But it’s his blanket. His second ever courting gift, after the owl plush that still sits proudly at the edge of the nest.
Bokuto stares down at the blankets, reaching a hand out to smooth a wrinkle. Akaashi hates that he has to, that the perfection is diminishing before their very eyes. “It’s getting cleaned.” Though his scent does not rot in another lie, it doesn't even out either. He’s still not being honest.
Akaashi’s brow furrows, pulling at his sleeves, “why does it have to be cleaned? I would have washed it.”
He smiles again, but it doesn’t reach his eyes all the way. “I didn’t want to put more chores on you.” He says that as if they do not have an even split on household tasks. It didn’t take them very far into living together to figure out a routine that worked for both of them, even around the rigorous volleyball and work schedules. So Akaashi really does not see what need there is to change that now. It could have been a kind gesture, not making him do another delicate load of laundry, but not when he doesn’t tell him. Not when he takes it away and leaves Akaashi to find his nest tampered with.
He can’t help it. “What aren’t you telling me?” His voice remains even, despite the bubbling emotion inside him. He’s not normally so quick to irrationality.
Bokuto tries to pull him closer, “nothing, it’s okay.” Akaashi allows himself to be brought into an embrace. He noses at his scent gland, and it’s just as sour as he expected. He knows he smells bitter too, burnt and nauseating, but he doesn’t know what else to say. Clearly, Bokuto won’t give it up that easily. He wants to know why but if he opens his mouth again he knows it’ll be too loud, too much. He really doesn’t want to get into a fight.
So he blinks back the sting of tears and pretends he doesn’t hate the way the comforters feel against his skin. They don’t have sex, they don’t even try to.
/
Akaashi tosses and turns, not even Bokuto’s arms around him are enough to get him to stop wiggling. Every time he moves a blanket gets shuffled along with him. It’s all wrong, everything. He tries to fix what he can but it’s hard with Bokuto dead asleep beside him. He doesn’t understand. He would have allowed the alpha to adjust things if he had asked, but he didn’t. He just moved them and as much as Akaashi wants rip it all apart and start over, that would be devastatingly insensitive. Though omegas are the most common, any dynamic can nest. He knows for a fact that Kuroo finds great comfort in the practice.
This could just be Bokuto’s way at exploring a new coping mechanism, looking for an outlet to comfort himself. It would be disrespectful for Akaashi to take that away. He’s done nothing but be supportive and kind about Akaashi’s nesting, he can do the same for his lover.
But it feels so wrong against his skin. Every fold and wrinkle itches at him, urging him to move, to make it better. How can he find comfort in this? It’s nothing like Akaashi’s nesting style.
Maybe that’s the point. Akaashi has always thought the alpha enjoyed the structures he built, but maybe there were improvements to be had. This could be his way of showing him how he finds comfort. Maybe Akaashi isn’t as good at nesting as he thought, if Bokuto has to take it upon himself to fix it.
He doesn’t cry, doesn’t let himself, knowing it’s simple tiredness making him so emotional. He rolls over and tries to find a pleasant position but all it does is irritate himself further. He’s losing sleep by the minute and he can’t make himself stop.
When Bokuto rolls onto his back he takes the opportunity to lie on his chest. At least if he uses his mate as a pillow then he won’t have to feel the blankets scratch against his skin. He relishes in the skinship when Bokuto unconsciously lays an arm over the small of his back, pulling him closer.
Sleep doesn’t come easily. He forces his body still, knowing the rise and fall of his mate’s chest is his best chance at dozing off.
He’s not sure when he does drift off but by the time his alarm blares he knows he didn’t get enough rest. He spends the day restless and annoyed, a bad combination when he has a deadline rapidly coming up. He needs a clear head to get all his work done in a reasonable amount of time and yet he spends the day trying to reason a way to adjust the nest without potentially upsetting Bokuto. If he just had his red blanket back it would all be fine.
By the time he gets home he’s shaking with the need to move, to tear it all apart and start over, but he has too much to do. He hardly got a thing done all day and he needs to make up for it now unless he wants his boss on his ass again.
So he writes and he edits and he waits for Bokuto to come interrupt, to kiss him and tell him to take a break, but he never does. When he’s about ready to rip his hair out he checks his phone, seeing a text he missed letting him know Bokuto will be back late. It’s long past their typical dinner time already. Even when the alpha stays late for individual practice he still will try to be back in time for supper. Something inside him aches.
Despite the lingering frustration, he still sends a quick text to check in. He doesn’t get a response. He tells himself that he’s busy, he’s probably begging Atsumu for sets. He pushes down any of the hurt threatening to billow out and tells himself it’s just hunger. He’ll eat later, when Bokuto comes home.
He sits at his desk and ignores the twinge in his back, trying to remember synonyms for words he already knows. By the time he hears the front door open his stomach is long past hunger, back to a sickening emptiness. He knows if he tried to eat now that he wouldn’t get anything down. So when Bokuto comes and hugs him from behind, peeking at the mountain of work he still has to complete, he doesn’t ask about dinner. The alpha smells sated anyway, he probably ate with his teammates.
“Don’t stay up too late,” he tells him with a lingering kiss to his cheek. Bokuto showers and Akaashi types, deletes, and retypes the same sentence over and over again. When he comes back, freshly changed and smelling lighter, he dives into the nest. He snuggles in like it doesn’t prickle against his skin. Maybe he really did improve it, for himself.
Akaashi looks away. He needs to finish.
He’s not sure how much time passes before his lover is wrapping his arms around him again. “Come to bed, baby, before you fall asleep on the desk.” It wouldn’t be the first time.
He leans into the touch despite the way he shakes his head, “just a bit more.”
Bokuto gives him a squeeze, “five minutes.”
“Ten,” he refutes immediately.
“Seven. Then you’re coming to bed.”
He knows if he really pushed back that Bokuto would give in. But he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want it to be a fight. So he makes as much progress as he can and when Bokuto calls him to bed he concedes. It takes him even longer to fall asleep this time.
/
According to the calendar there is ten months and seventeen days until they are scheduled to have their re-mating ceremony. They haven’t actually talked about it. Akaashi didn’t think they had to. Every five years mating scars fade and then they get to bite each other again, claim each other for another set amount of years. Akaashi thought it was a given. He thought they were happy.
But with each night that Akaashi tosses and turns, Bokuto pulls him into his arms less. He doesn’t reach out, only holding him when Akaashi gives up and crawls over. He never hesitates to hold him once he’s there, but selfishly the omega wishes he would do more than passive comfort.
He’s been spending more late nights at practice. He’s not actually missed anything important though, so Akaashi doesn’t have the right to complain. He picked up dinner when asked and he still showed up for movie night. He still kisses him every time he comes home.
Nothing is actually wrong. Akaashi still can’t get a hold of that cloying thing inside him, that lingering itchiness he can’t reach. The blanket is still missing and Akaashi barely met his deadline. When it was done there was no relief. He couldn’t even rest. He ponders sleeping on the couch but that feels too passive aggressive. He just wants a good night's rest. He wants his nest back, please.
Maybe Bokuto would be fine with two nests. One for him to do with as he pleases and one for Akaashi to curl up with the red knit blanket and pretend like everything is going to be just fine.
But Akaashi doesn’t want two nests. Just the thought gets a suffocating lump in his throat. He yearns to sleep in his mates arms and nuzzle his face against the softness of his courting blanket. He wants it all to go back to normal. He wants to know what went wrong. He doesn’t even see Bokuto enough to ask, and when he does he can’t make the words come out. Akaashi is a fucking coward.
When it’s late enough the moon is going back down and the sky is starting to turn pink, he can’t help but think about their upcoming mating day. Maybe he shouldn’t have assumed. Maybe he should have asked before planning their whole future together. It’s not as if they’re married. They have no legal claim to each other, just scars that are fading more with each passing day.
When the blanket doesn’t come back it feels like a rejection. Maybe this is how he lets him down easy. By taking back the courting gifts until there’s nothing left. Until the bite is gone and there’s nothing holding them together anymore. Akaashi stares at the stuffed owl and waits for it to disappear too.
He tries to take a nap, knowing he won’t be able to get a full night's sleep regardless. For the first time, he wishes they had a guest bedroom if only so he has somewhere to hide. He doesn’t know what he’ll say when Bokuto asks. When he has to explain why he has cocooned himself in a singular blanket on the couch instead of curling up in the nest. It’s not the red knit, but it’s almost as soft, almost as soothing. It doesn’t irritate his skin at least, so he takes what he can get.
He’s not sure how long it takes to drift off but by the time Bokuto is rousing him with a gentle hand carding through his hair he already feels the beginnings of a headache pressing against his skull. He whines, caught between wanting to lean into the touch and nuzzle into the fleece.
Bokuto chuckles before leaning forward to kiss his nose, openly adoring the way it makes it scrunch up in a sleepy pout. “Come to bed, love,” he whispers. His other hand comes to his neck, thumbing at the scent gland. It’s nice, to be touched like this again. It’s not as if Akaashi is touch starved, it’s only been a few busy days. They’ve gone longer without seeing each other at all, let alone scented, especially early on in their relationship. He leans into the touch with a soft purr, desperate for his alpha. Greedy.
Bokuto indulges him, always does. He leans forward to press another kiss to his forehead, each cheek, his eyelids, anywhere he can reach. For a moment, he can pretend everything is okay. He can push down the worries of Bokuto no longer wanting him because why else would he show him affection like this? It would have been easier to just leave him on the couch, unaware and lonely. But Bokuto has always been the cuddly sort, always seeking him out.
“C’mon, I’ll carry you,” he tells him. Akaashi pouts but does not otherwise protest, too distracted by the hand still rubbing his head just right, untangling all the knots in his hair and massaging against the skin. Bokuto scoops him up easily, blanket and all. Akaashi doesn’t hesitate to curl into his touch, nosing against his scent gland and sighing when he’s met with fruity sweetness. He basks in it, taking entire lungfuls of the pheromones as he leans into the sleepiness, hoping he’ll finally get some rest wrapped in his mate’s arms.
Bokuto lies him carefully in the nest, brushing away the hairs that try to stick uncomfortably to his forehead. He crawls in after him, settling back in time to pull Akaashi onto his chest, always a willing pillow for him. Akaashi nuzzles into him, consciousness fleeting when he hears the alpha whisper, “sleep well, baby. I love you.”
/
Akaashi wakes up confused and just as exhausted as he was before. He’s no longer in Bokuto’s arms, the alpha’s back to him as he cuddles one of the owl plushies scattered through the nest. Akaashi isn’t dejected. He isn’t.
He scrubs at his eyes to keep the traitorous tears from falling. There’s no logical reason to cry, it’s not as if Bokuto has done anything wrong.
He’s not sure where his phone is. He knows Bokuto must have plugged it in, but he doesn’t care to go looking for it. He can just make out the clock from here though, revealing he’s only been down a few hours. It’s probably the most sleep he's gotten in the past few days, but it’s nowhere near what he needs. Despite his perpetual insomnia and general restlessness, his body thrives on going to bed early and getting up early. A routine he already struggles to keep, even when the nest is pristine.
He knows he could simply turn Bokuto over, the alpha never minds him being handsy when he’s trying to get comfortable. But he knows even if he gets wrapped up in his arms again that it wouldn’t soothe the jittering anxiety inside him. It is far too early to begin the day, there’s still a good couple hours until Bokuto typically partakes on his morning run, but he can’t keep lying there. He thought he would grow accustomed to the new nest but all it has done is tear at his dwindling sanity. He’s so fucking tired.
He extracts himself from the nest, careful not to wake his mate. With a large cup of coffee he’ll be fine. He can even make breakfast for the two of them. It’s fine. He’s completely fine.
/
Akaashi is ready to fucking cry. It’s completely irrational, he knows, and he’s still rubbing his fists against his eyes in some futile attempt to stop the tears. Bokuto has been no less of the wonderful lover he is and Akaashi is falling apart. He’s so confused. He doesn’t understand how the alpha can hold him close and kiss him so sweetly and still not give him the blanket back. Akaashi just wants to know what he did wrong. It’s just over a week of him not sleeping through the night and he’s falling apart. He gets a stray hour here and there, only if he is lying atop Bokuto and away from the itching blankets, but it’s not enough.
He wants to bring it up again, beg him to let him have the blanket back. Akaashi will wash it, he’ll do whatever he needs to. He just wants to sleep through the night. The only other time he’s brought it up since the first day the alpha had immediately shut the conversation down, smelling of guilt again. He knows he’s hiding something and even though he knows he’s catastrophizing, he can't stop.
He can’t have a productive conversation like this. He’s far too emotional. If Bokuto finds him like this, curled up on the bathroom floor choking on air, he'll end up just as distressed. He doesn’t want that, he doesn’t want to make him feel bad. He just wants to understand. He just needs one night of proper sleep and he’ll finally be able to think clearly again. No matter how much coffee he downs he still can’t formulate intellectual sentences, all it does is make him more shaky. Just one night and he’ll talk to Bokuto and he’ll get the blanket back and maybe it won't all slip through his fingers.
He forces a gulp of air, desperately trying to sound more put together than he is. It’s all so stupid, he knows that logically. It’s only a blanket. And yet here he is, fruitlessly fighting back tears and trying to convince himself to just fucking call Kenma already. He has to do it now before Bokuto gets home. There’s no way he’ll want to let him go if he sees his red face and teary eyes. Akaashi can’t explain, not now, he’ll just end up a begging mess.
He clears his throat, does it again when that does nothing to rid himself of the raspiness. He dials the number, praying the omega picks up. The phone rings, rings again, and finally Kenma answers. “What?” He asks, ever so eloquently.
Akaashi chokes back his relieved sob, pulling at his sleeves to give his hands something to do other than pick at the raw skin around his nails. “Can I spend the night at your place tonight?” He blurts out, too anxious to come up with a proper excuse or greeting.
Maybe something in his voice gives him away, or maybe Kenma just knows him far too well. His voice softens, “of course,” he answers immediately. “Are you okay?” He’s always been able to see right through him, even before they got close.
Akaashi doesn’t think before he says, “yeah. Just need to get out of the house.” He wasn’t planning to lie, but it just came out.
He knows Kenma doesn’t believe him even before he says, “okay. Kuro won’t be home until later so it’ll just be us for dinner.” He doesn’t press, probably waiting for Akaashi to show up with his tail between his legs before he pushes for the truth.
“Thank you,” he says earnestly. It’s not that he expected to be turned down but it’s a relief nonetheless.
“Whatever,” Kenma mutters. He knows him well enough by now that he’s probably blushing, still not the best when met with genuine fondness. “Lemme know when you’re on your way.”
When they hang up Akaashi only wastes a few moments wiping his face, desperate to rid himself of the evidence of his tears. It’s pathetic and he doesn’t need anyone else to see him for what he is. A wallowing thing drowning in the shambles of his own making.
He doesn’t bother packing much, knowing he has a permanent toothbrush already at their apartment. With his overnight bag ready he makes his leave, only texting Bokuto the plans once he’s on the train. It’s not that he’s not allowed to spend a night away, but he knows it’s unusual. Especially without telling his alpha first.
Akaashi
Hey, I’m gonna spend the night at Kenma’s tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow. I love you.
Bokuto texts back almost immediately, not giving Akaashi the time to overthink his choice of wording.
Bokuto
wait was this already planned
i dont remember
Akaashi
No. It was last minute. Sorry.
Bokuto
no no its okay
i just thought i forgot plans
its okay
love you
He didn’t say anything abnormal and still Akaashi’s stomach is clenching that somehow the alpha knows. It’s not as if he is lying but he knows he’s not being forthright. He spends the entire commute to the apartment periodically checking his phone, as if Bokuto will demand him to come home. He’s never done that before, there’s no reason for it to happen now.
Akaashi tries to will his anxiety to back off but all it does is embed further into his skin. By the time he’s approaching the door he has to put his hands in his pockets to hide the incessant trembling. He tells himself it’s from that last cup of coffee. He had added an extra shot of espresso afterall.
He knocks on the door and hates himself for how he falters, flinching back when it opens. He’s being ridiculous. It has to be from how overly exhausted he is. With some sleep it’ll be fine. It’ll get better. It has to. Kenma and Kuroo’s is one of the only places outside of his home that he’s actually able to get a full night’s rest in. He knows he’ll be fine, and yet-
“You look like shit.” Kenma doesn’t bother with pleasantries, leaving the door open for him as he turns down the hall. Akaashi follows, hating himself for hesitating. He locks the door behind him, staring at his bitten nails. Slipping off his shoes he pulls at his sleeves to hide the evidence. “When I told Kuro you’d be over he insisted he’d finish work early.” Of course he did. “He’s going to pick up some food on the way so we have time to nest.” It’s routine, he knows. Ever since Akaashi started spending extensive time over they would nest together. It’s a rather traditional omega bonding ritual and one he normally thrives in. Often, Kuroo will join in, the alpha finding just as much comfort from the practice as they do.
It would be a blaring neon sign if he suddenly refused to partake. So he swallows down the blubbering nausea trying to crawl up his throat and follows Kenma to his bedroom. They have a nice system, three bedrooms to ensure both mates can always have their needs met. One shared between them, with a large nest they both upkeep. And then they each have their own bedroom. While Kuroo uses his primarily to nest in, needing that extra comfort, Kenma’s is mostly just an office. Though he does have a spare mattress and a bin of blankets for such an occasion. Akaashi has done this so many times, the two omegas working in tandem to make a comfortable place to sleep.
He can’t hide his hesitation. He hasn’t even placed one blanket, trapped between laying it out, folding it, smoothing it back out, just to fold it again. He hyperfocuses on every wrinkle, every piece of dust, every reason why he sucks at nesting. He’s still adjusting and readjusting the same comforter when Kenma drops the pillow he was fluffing. “What’s wrong?” He asks plainly.
Akaashi shakes his head, refusing to look up from the partially finished nest. “Nothing, sorry, I’m just tired.” And he is, he’s so fucking tired. He knows he must look it, the normal dark spots under his eyes an ugly bruise color by now. He doesn’t bother with concealer, it’s not like anyone noticing is going to fix it.
Kenma doesn’t let up, “that’s bullshit.” It’s not mean, the way he says, but an unbidden honestly. “Did you and Bo get into a fight?”
He doesn’t let himself hesitate, shaking his head. “No, we didn’t.” It would have been easier if they had, if there had been yelling, or even the cold shoulder. Then at least he would have something to explain, something tangible to grapple with. It wouldn’t seem so fucking pathetic, if he had an actual reason for this heaviness inside him, like his marrow has been replaced by lead.
Kenma scoots closer, not touching, but comforting nonetheless. “So, what happened?” His voice is gentle. Akaashi knows he could tell him to back off and he would. But Akaashi is greedy, he’s desperate for the comfort. He needs to know if he’s being as stupid as he thinks he is.
Akaashi takes a breath, squeezing at the blanket under him if only so he doesn’t make his nails bleed again. “Bokuto changed the nest.” It sounds just as dumb aloud as it did in his head. An explanation unworthy of all this drama, of the tears once again pressing against his eyes. His nose stings with the force he is choking back the persistent cries. Kenma hums, showing he’s listening, giving him time to build his courage. “He sent my courting blanket to be cleaned.” He has no right to sob. There is no valid excuse for the tears to begin slipping down his face, for his chest to heave.
He covers his face, hating how weak he is. It’s just a blanket. It shouldn’t matter this much. He sobs when Kenma wraps his arms around him. He’s gotten better with physical affection over the years, but it’s still relatively rare for him to initiate it with someone other than his mate. It just makes Akaashi cry harder. Kenma doesn’t scold him, doesn’t berate him for being infantile and foolish, just holds him steady while he shakes from the force of his weeping.
He gasps, desperately trying to explain his devastation, “I thought-” he heaves, “he didn’t, god,” he takes a gaping shuddering breath, “he didn’t bring it back,” he cries. “The blanket,” he’s shaking all over, “it’s gone.” Kenma rubs his back, spreading his soothing scent over his shirt, “I can’t-” he’d pull at his hair if the omega wasn’t holding him so securely. “I can’t sleep.” He admits, vulnerable and quivering. “Kenma, I can’t sleep. I can’t, I can’t-”
When he can’t catch his breath, his lungs suddenly too small to intake an adequate amount of air, Kenma pulls him close. He presses their foreheads together, “breathe with me,” he tells him. He forces exaggerated breaths, well versed in calming down from panic attacks. “You can do it, just like this.” He forces inhales large enough for Akaashi to hear above his own sobs. He keeps going, doesn’t give up on him even when Akaashi is a blubbering mess of apologies and snot.
When Akaashi is finally able to take a breath without his chest aching too much, Kenma allows him to drop his head to his shoulder. He doesn’t complain even when he gets tears dampening his shirt. He simply rubs his back and quiets any stray sobs. Akaashi closes his eyes, relishing in the closeness. It’s not as if Bokuto has been neglecting him. He knows his alpha would never hesitate to comfort him if he came home crying, and still. It’s nice to be honest, for there not to be consequences for his irrationality.
Akaashi is the one who pulls back, wiping at his face and gratefully taking the offered tissue. When he feels mildly less gross, he mumbles, “thank you.”
“Shut up,” he mutters with no real heat behind it, “it’s not anything you haven’t done for me.” It’s not like they’re keeping score.
He knows he could press on, pretend like he didn’t just have a complete mental breakdown and Kenma would let him, not wanting to trigger another meltdown. But if he does that, he’s scared he’ll never get it out. He’ll keep at it, pretending like he’s fine until he faints, exhausted and heartbroken.
He wipes his face again, barely resisting the urge to bite at his cuticles. “I know it’s stupid-”
“It’s not.” Kenma interrupts immediately.
Akaashi doesn’t bother arguing the point, knowing it’s futile. “I just, I can’t sleep without the courting blanket,” he admits. “When I brought it up, Bokuto was acting weird.” At Kenma’s prompting, he continues. “He was acting guilty. I know he’s keeping something from me and I don’t know why.” He forces a deep breath, fighting off a fresh wave of tears.
Kenma shows no sign of judgment. “Did he explain why he sent it to be cleaned?”
Akaashi shakes his head. “No, when I asked he just changed the topic. I don’t get it.” Before he can psych himself out he confesses, “I’m scared. There’s no good reason to take back a courting gift.”
Kenma shoots down the anxiety before he can work himself back up, taking his hand when he starts picking at his skin. “Bokuto wouldn’t just drop you. I’m sure there’s a reason.”
“But why? Why wouldn’t he just tell me?” Akaashi whines helplessly. He wouldn’t dare be so weak in front of anyone else. But at this point, Kenma and Kuroo are practically family. There’s no one else, outside his mate, he’d feel safer to be vulnerable with.
Kenma sighs, but it’s not an angry sound, “I don’t know. I know it’s scary, but you have to talk to him. Does he even know how much this is affecting you?” When Akaashi doesn’t respond right away he takes another breath. “Hiding here isn’t going to fix anything.”
“I can’t talk to him like this, I’ll just end up crying.”
Kenma doesn’t let his protest deter him. “Maybe that’s what you need, to let your alpha take care of you. To show you he’s not giving up on you or your relationship.”
Akaashi gives a small huff of laughter, the closest sound to happiness he’s had all day. “When did you get so wise?” Kenma sticks his tongue out at him but doesn’t otherwise show any offense. He rubs at his eyes again, despite knowing it’ll do nothing to aid the redness. “It’s scary. What if he rejects me?”
“I think you underestimate how much your alpha adores you. You’re his entire world.”
Akaashi knows that. Bokuto has said as much, verbatim. Before this week he never would have doubted the sentiment, knowing his mate loves him just as fiercely as Akaashi does. He hates his hesitance, the sudden inkling of fear. He’s still thinking of a suitable response when there’s a low knock on the door. Despite himself, he flinches. Kenma doesn’t stop holding him, “what do you want?” He calls out.
Kuroo’s voice is gentle, no doubt smelling Akaashi’s distress from the moment he stepped foot into the apartment. “I have food if you feel up for it.” Even if Akaashi can’t currently say as much, he appreciates the openness, the allowance of choice it gives him. He knows he could deny the kind gesture and Kuroo wouldn't get mad, wouldn't demand they come eat with him. Somehow, knowing that just makes him want to give in, to allow himself the indulgence of dinner with his friends despite how shitty he feels.
Kenma must smell on him his silent yearning, because he gives him one last squeeze before whispering, “c’mon.” He stands up first, reaching a hand out for Akaashi. He allows himself to be pulled out of the half complete nest, only feeling a little guilty before he’s led to the living room. Kuroo got his favorite, the generous bastard.
Dinner is rather anticlimactic after all the drama from earlier. It’s quiet in the comfortable sort of way, no expectations. He knows the alpha won’t press for answers, won’t ask about the tears. He’ll support him however he needs to, even if that means simply providing a filling supper. By the time they’re finished, lounging back against the couch, Kenma speaks up. Akaashi can only pretend for so long he’s allowing himself to digest and not avoiding sleep. “I'm not kicking you out, but I think you should go back.”
It’s not that Akaashi minds Kuroo overhearing, but it only makes him that the more fragile. “I can’t sleep there.”
“Do you really think you’ll get any rest here?” It’s not mean and Akaashi winces anyway. “You won’t let yourself nest. You’re never going to be able to sleep if you don’t stop overthinking.”
Akaashi bites his lip to keep it from quivering. “I can’t face him like this.”
That’s when Kuroo finally speaks up, “I may not know the situation, but I know Bokuto. He’d never judge you.”
Akaashi can’t look, if he moves a muscle he’ll start crying again. “What if he rejects me?”
“Then you come back here. You will always have a place here, Keiji.”
/
He doesn’t dare text Bokuto that he’s coming back home. He has no doubt he would lose his nerve if he discovers the alpha isn’t even home before he walks in the door. It’s not like he was expecting the man to have waited up for him, but it’s still a surprise when he opens the door to reveal his partner sat on the couch. Head in his hands, he looks just as miserable as Akaashi feels.
He hasn’t even locked it behind him yet and Bokuto is shooting up. “Babe, you’re back!”
He can’t help the small smile at the obvious joy on his lover's face. “I’m back.” Bokuto greets him like he hasn’t seen him in days, rushing forward and pulling him into a hug so fierce he actually lifts his feet off the floor, uncaring of the backpack. He doesn’t even pull back to properly kiss him, instead pressing his lips to his neck, his shoulder, anywhere he can reach. Akaashi holds him back just as tight, legs weak in such stark relief. Even if this is the beginning of the end, even if they’re about to get into a fight, he’ll take the comfort while it’s freely given. He breathes in his alphas scent and allows the pheromones to soothe the ache in his lungs.
They hold each other a long while, neither realizing how much they needed this until they got their hands on each other. When they finally find the strength to pull back, not letting go, no, but just enough to look each other in the eyes, he knows. Akaashi has no doubt that he knows. His molten eyes are just as glassy as Akaashi’s, tears ready to fall if he so much as dares to blink too much.
Before he can find a way to verbalize the overwhelming swell of emotions inside him, Bokuto is blurting out, “I’m so sorry. Baby, I’m so so sorry, I never meant to make you go away.” Before Akaashi can ask him to elaborate, he’s confessing, “it’s all my fault. I tried to fix the nest, but I don’t know how to do it like you do.”
Akaashi’s brow furrows, so many questions swirling inside him. Before he can get too lost, Bokuto guides him to the couch. He doesn’t hesitate to pull him into his lap, just as desperate for the closeness. Akaashi shrugs off the backpack, not wanting anything else to weigh him down. When they’re both settled, Bokuto continues, “you know how I get those awful bloody noses?” Akaashi nods immediately. They’re horrific. Every once in a while his nose will just randomly start gushing, making what looks like a crime scene if he doesn’t get tissues quick enough.
Bokuto’s voice lowers, an overwhelming guilt filling both his words and his scent, “well last week, I was uh, I was taking a nap. Before you got home, y’know. And I woke up and my nose was just bleeding out.” He sniffles, tearful and shaky. “It got all over your blanket, the red one. I tried to stop it, but you know how my nosebleeds are. It got everywhere.” Akaashi doesn’t know what to do, what to feel, so he presses their foreheads together. A gesture to show he’s here, he’s listening, he’s not going anywhere. “I’m sorry, ‘m so fucking sorry,” he cries.
Akaashi tries to calm his sobs but he pushes forward, desperate to explain, “I panicked. I know it’s your favorite, I called Kuroo and he knew a cleaner.” He doesn’t get the chance to feel betrayed before Bokuto is plowing on. “I didn’t want you to know I ruined it. I brought it straight to the cleaners.” He gives a heartbreaking sort of laugh, humorless and devastating. “But of course that didn’t work. They were really struggling to get all the blood and staining out without it shrinking and then the knitting started unraveling.” His voice is wet and Akaashi can’t stop his own tears. “So then I had to try to find someone who could put it back together.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Akaashi begs.
Bokuto sobs again, “it was your courting gift. I didn’t want you to know I ruined it. I wanted to fix it before you found out.”
Akaashi leans forward, hiding his face in the juncture between his shoulder and neck. “I would have been a lot less distressed if you told me the truth. I thought you were taking back the courting proposal.” He doesn’t have to explain himself further.
Bokuto gives a whimper, “Keiji, no, no, never, no,” he clutches him so tight. It doesn’t hurt. Akaashi wouldn’t have cared if it had, just so relieved to know the truth. “I would never. You’re mine, all mine. I’m so sorry.”
Akaashi presses a kiss against the skin, trying to push all his love into the gesture. “I’m not mad at you, but please, just talk to me next time. I was so scared.” He can’t help but be honest. He couldn’t bear lying now, not with tears still streaming down both of their faces. “I’d rather be disappointed alongside you than be scared without you.”
“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles.
Akaashi pulls back, makes sure they’re making eye contact. “Alpha, I’m not angry with you. I’m sad about the blanket, but I’m just so relieved you’re not rejecting me.” Bokuto makes another heartbroken noise, agonized at the mere thought. “I should have talked to you too, before I assumed the worst.” He takes a breath before admitting, “I was scared you didn’t want to renew our mating marks.”
Bokuto makes a squawking sort of noise, too loud for the lateness of the evening. “What? Never, no. I’ll claim you right here, right now.”
Akaashi laughs, pushing his face away when he leans forward like he’ll actually bite him. “Not now,” before Bokuto can look too rejected, he continues, “not until I’m in heat. It’ll hurt too much, otherwise.” That pacifies his alpha, deciding to instead nibble around the collar instead of actually renewing his scar. Akaashi quickly rids himself of the leather, too eager for his mate’s lips on him to wait for him to do it himself. Selfishly, he’s far too interested in the fingers digging into his hips to want them to leave, even for a moment. Without the barrier in the way, Bokuto wastes no time in leaving love bites across the sensitive gland. He lathes his tongue over the small hurts before suckling more hickies, scent sweetening at each little sound he pulls out of Akaashi.
He bares his throat, a hand coming up to thread through Bokuto’s hair. He whines when Bokuto’s mouth leaves his neck but he can’t get disappointed because then he’s pressing their mouths together. He moans into the kiss, far beyond embarrassment at this point. Their faces are still wet, but it doesn’t matter. Not when they’re here, skin on skin and still just as fiercely in love. He doesn’t hesitate to allow his alpha’s tongue into his mouth, letting him swallow all the needy sounds he makes. He keeps the hand in his hair, the other coming to cradle his face. When they have to take a breath there’s no mistaking the pure adoration on his face. He doesn’t know how he could have ever thought differently, how he could have ever imagined Bokuto’s love diminishing.
They kiss until they’re both breathless with it, and kiss some more. There’s still more to talk about, communication issues they definitely need to work through, but for now, this is enough. “I love you,” Bokuto whispers into his skin, reverent. He kisses him all over. It’s no surprise when they both end up shirtless, searching for more skin to mark, to claim as their own. “You’re mine, baby, all mine.”
Akaashi leaves just as many raspberry marks across the expanse of his chest and neck, kisses each one as they bloom. “Love you,” he breathes out. “I love you so much.” He could do this forever and be perfectly content about it, relishing in the skinship.
Eventually though, the sleep deprivation makes itself known. The second time Akaashi fails to bite back his yawn, Bokuto gives him a smile. “We can go to bed, love. I’m not going anywhere.”
He tries not to look too disappointed, “I haven’t been able to sleep.” He quiets him down before he could apologize again. He’s already forgiven, afterall. He lets the hands on his waist give him courage, to know he’s still going to be wanted even when he’s honest. “I have a question,” he begins, needing to know before they go to the bedroom. “When you said you were trying to fix the nest, was that because of the blood or because of my nesting abilities.”
At first Bokuto looks confused, before his expression turns horrified. “What? I absolutely love your nesting, it had nothing to do with your skills. There’s nowhere else I’d rather sleep. It was because of the blood, I didn’t want you to sleep in dirty blankets. Why would you think that?”
The relief is a palpable thing, allowing him to lean more fully onto his mate. “That day, you had rearranged the blankets. I was worried you weren’t content with the structure I built.”
“No, no,” he protests immediately, “I was just trying to make a new base since I took out the red knit. If I knew that would bother you I would have left it.”
“I was just worried you wanted to try building a nest yourself and I didn’t want to overstep.”
He laughs, a faint blush dusting across his cheeks, “babe, selfishly, I’d much rather sleep in one you built than trying to figure it out for myself.”
Akaashi can’t help the pride bubbling up inside him, preening at the compliment. He kisses him, he has to. Bokuto groans his appreciation, licking into his mouth once again. Before things can get too heated, Akaashi pulls back with a quick peck on the cheek to keep him from whining. “One last thing, before we go to bed.” And he really does mean bed. As much as he’d love to take Bokuto’s knot right now, he knows his body will give out before he’s even fully prepped. Once he gets some actual sleep in him though, they are definitely indulging. “Were you able to find someone to fix the blanket?” As silly as it may be, after everything, it still matters to him.
Bokuto lights up, “yeah, actually! Once they got the stain out I found someone who could reknit it. I should be able to pick it up in a couple days.” Akaashi doesn’t bother hiding his relief. He would have been okay if it truly was broken, he would have built a new nest and found a way to sleep again. But god, he’s so fucking happy he doesn’t have to.
“Thank you,” he says earnestly, “for taking care of me even when I don’t realize it.”
“Always. I’ve got you,” he kisses him again, because he can. Because there’s no more secrets between them, no barrier in their affection. He whispers more endearments and love confessions between presses of the lips. Akaashi will never tire of it, hearing just how much he’s wanted. He does the same, ensuring his mate doesn’t feel any less cherished.
It takes them longer than it should to wander to the bedroom. Akaashi gets a moment alone with the nest while Bokuto runs to the bathroom, admitting he’s really had to pee but didn’t want to ruin the moment. It’s silly and Akaashi just kisses him again for it, his goofy alpha. This time, he doesn’t hesitate before rearranging the nest. With a newfound confidence he pulls blankets out, replaces them, fluffs and folds. When Bokuto comes back, he doesn’t interrupt, scent pulsing as he watches his lover work.
The nest is different, but this time when he lays down, rolls around to get a good feel for it, it doesn’t itch against his skin. There are no wrinkles digging into his flesh. The scents are balanced again, and when be nuzzles in, all he feels is a welcoming softness. He purrs, reaching his hands out to his alpha, beckoning him into the structure. He doesn’t hesitate, crawling forward. “It’s beautiful,” he tells him, “so perfect.” He says between more kisses, all over the face. His lips, his nose, anywhere Akaashi will let him. Everywhere. “Such a good omega, making such a lovely nest.” He whispers. “So good for me.”
They hold each other awhile, basking in the togetherness. This time, when Bokuto pulls him onto his chest, it doesn’t feel like an obligation. Like Akaashi has to do this or he won’t sleep, but because he wants to. For the first time in days he thinks if he laid back against the blankets, slumber would still find him. But he wants this, to be hold and be held. He rests his cheek on his chest and finds comfort in the steady rise and fall. His fingers trace patterns over his skin, silently soothing him to sleep. It doesn’t take as long this time, to finally go down.
/
When Akaashi wakes up, there’s no lingering ache behind his eyelids, no headache brewing. He allows himself to relish in the quiet, knowing they still have time before they have to get up. He entertains the idea of calling off work, of encouraging Bokuto to do the same with practice. But he doesn’t need to, his alpha will still be here. When he comes home tonight, he’ll still have this. It’s not fleeting. As much as he wants to have a lazy day in, he knows they have time. There’s no rush in their love, they can have work and still come home to each other. Even if there’s still conversations to be had, they don’t have to run into or away from it. They can just be.
He nuzzles into his mate’s skin, purring when his arms tighten their hold around him. He has him. He closes his eyes, sleep once again finding him easily.