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Bokuto isn’t sure if it’s the sun or the pounding in his head that wakes him up, but both are currently causing an ache behind his eyelids, and for the first time since he can remember, he doesn't have the energy to get up. He turns his head away from the offending strip of light, with a groan almost loud enough to cover up the slight shuffle seemingly coming from the corner of his room. Forcing his eyelids to cooperate, Bokuto finds himself staring at his dark-haired setter, curled into a ball on Bokuto’s chair. The splitting headache is making it hard for surprise to fully set in, but Bokuto manages to croak out a questioning “Akaashi?”, flinching at the broken state of his own voice.
Unreadable as ever, his unexpected morning visitor slowly detaches his arms from his knees, carefully puts away whatever he was holding and substitutes it with a glass from Bokuto’s desk.
“You drank a little too much at the party last night, Bokuto-san.” His voice is soft as he kneels next to the bed to offer Bokuto some water. He gladly accepts the glass, brushing his fingers against Akaashi’s, which are almost as cold as the water. “The others all left.”
Bokuto might have wondered if this sentence meant that Akaashi wanted to finally leave too, if only he wasn't too occupied remembering all of the graceful gentle movements of the setter’s fingers that he loves to observe and hoping he might get to feel the coolness again when he returns the glass. He is completely swept away in thought, remembering those delicate hands as Akaashi just moments earlier set aside his-
“Bokuto-san?” The slight frown on Akaashi’s flawless face adds to the hint of worry in the mild voice. He’s clearly been waiting for the hung-over boy to reply to something, but Bokuto can't bother remembering what he’s missed in his musings and, true to himself, blurts out the first thing on his mind.
“Was that your camera? Were you taking pictures?” Not really sure what of, as his thoughts get lost in watching Akaashi’s face go beautifully pink. Akaashi never fails to make Bokuto’s brain go haywire, spinning instead of staying focused on the conversation. Bokuto knows this long time crush is blatantly obvious, at least to their team, but he’s always worn his heart on his sleeve – not to mention, Akaashi makes it impossible not to swoon over his graceful moves or stare at the most amazing eyes Bokuto has ever seen. And because Akaashi never told him to stop, Bokuto allows himself those looks and to be head-over-heels seen from space, and sprouting nonsensical fragments of his scattered mind when graced with one of those rare smiles. He allows himself all of this, until Akaashi is in his room, diverting his eyes to avoid Bokuto’s. One could conclude a whole galaxy is missing, if they looked at the size of the void left in Bokuto’s heart once he is depraved of that piercing gaze.
Akaashi’s dull nails are digging into his palms and he feels those treacherous, oh-so-rare pangs of warmth in his cheeks.
“I'm sorry, Bokuto-san.” He anxiously bites his lip, confessing his embarrassing urge from that morning, and possibly a little more as well.
“I shouldn't have, but you just-” His hands fist into the material of his pants as he forces his eyes back to the uncharacteristically silent ace. Akaashi swallows his fear.
“Bokuto-san just looks very beautiful in the morning light and...” His voice trails off, thoughts carried away by the wide eyes’ unbroken stare. Silver strands of Bokuto’s somewhat damp hair, locked with his eyelashes, move with every slow blink, and conceal the bright gold irises. Following a need, like when he fiddled with the camera keys gently to best capture his captains breathtaking sleeping form, Akaashi lets go once again. This time he allows himself to be seen indulging an urge - no plans, just want – and, ever-so-slowly, raises his fingers to smooth the bangs away from the wide blown pupils. And if his fingers hover couple of seconds too long – well, he is indulging himself after all.
Bokuto is speechless and it has nothing to do with his alcohol-dried throat. The silence stretches with uncertainty after the cool trace of Akaashi’s caress leaves his forehead. The air is charged with things Bokuto doesn't know how to say, so he pushes down the unfamiliar sense of lead in his stomach and finally lets his hand rise up to cup Akaashi’s cheek. Headache long ago pushed aside by the stream of thoughts all centering around the boy literally at his hand, Bokuto soars with realization - Akaashi isn't pushing away. The younger boy seems to lean into the touch, closing his eyes and resting on the palm.
His own hand rises up to cover the one cradling his face.
“I was worried, Bokuto-san.” Bokuto can feel the small genuine smile tugging up the skin under his palm. When Akashi opens his eyes, the cold steel gleams with excitement like it would after a successful toss. His fingers start threading up Bokuto’s forearm, across his bicep and settle on his shoulder, leaving a fiery trail, aching for more. “But I took care of you.”
Bokuto stares, in awe with his friend – with his crush, that just might not be completely one-sided, remembering with too much detail his nausea, the cold bathroom tiles, and being forced into the shower. Akaashi really had taken care of him, and even after witnessing all of that had stayed the night. Suddenly, staring, admiring, and feather-light touches weren't enough. As fire blazed across his skin and his heart, Bokuto leaned in and pressed his lips to Akaashi’s.
His mind spun as he tasted the softness he daydreamed about. His fingers trembled, stretching out to thread the edges of the messy black hair. Bokuto was no bad kisser, but he decidedly kept his lips sealed, and this particular kiss deliberately slow and gentle, barely a brush of mouths, yet incredibly intimate.
Warmth was all too soon replaced by the now chilly air as Akaashi pulled away. Bokuto tried to hide his disappointment, wanting to enjoy the fact that he at least possessed a few moments of bliss. He didn't dare open his eyes as he settled back into the pillow - watching Akaashi’s face and hand move away would be too painful. However, when the bed dipped down under added weight, Bokuto’s eyes flew open to Akaashi’s still smiling face, closer than ever, and his body nestled next to Bokuto on the bed.
It was all in Akaashi’s hands now, as he cupped Bokuto’s cheek, pressed another heavenly soft peck onto Bokuto’s lips, and smiled against them, murmuring a calm “You shouldn't keep your neck in that bad position for long, Bokuto-san.”
Letting his lips communicate with kisses, Akaashi said little more in the following hours, when two boys hid away from the world to explore this new way of connecting. Akaashi let his unoccupied hand roam freely, memorizing the smooth plains and sudden dips of the older boy's body, not leaving an inch unmapped.
That is how they spent most of that day – all languid, gradually deepening kisses and graceful, tracing fingertips, fueling their deep burning desires. Bokuto wrapped his arms around the smaller body next to him, holding it close and tight - he had gotten what he wanted most and there was no way he would ever let go.