Archive of Our Own

Bokuto first sees his neighbour at the supermarket, three days after he's moved into his new place.

He doesn't know they're neighbours yet, but still.

He's only there to get sugar and noodles so, after stubbornly refusing to grab a cart, several minutes later he finds himself struggling to balance in his arms not only sugar and noodles, but tomatoes, onions, eggs and a green pepper. And he still needs cereal. Not bringing a cart was probably not his wisest decision.

So it's when he's reaching for his favourite cereal on the top shelf that he notices, from the corner of his eye, someone standing next to him, just a bit further down the aisle, dressed in black from head to toe. He makes the mistake of turning his head to look, leaving his hand blindly pawing at the top shelf. For about a second, a heartbeat, he's met with a pair of dark, piercing eyes with what is probably eyeliner, looking back at him. It really is just a split second before his hand knocks down three cereal boxes that hit him square in the head, effectively making him break eye contact and drop his groceries to the floor.

Muttering a curse when he sees the eggs have shattered, he proceeds to pick the rest of the things up, putting the cereal back in place, but when he glances down the aisle again, he's alone. He blinks at the place where the person used to be and briefly wonders if he hallucinated before being interrupted by an annoyed store employee carrying a mop and a bucket. Bokuto apologizes profusely for the mess he’s made before heading to grab some more eggs. And cereal be damned, he's got his hands full already.

He still searches for the person dressed in black in adjoining aisles but it's like they were never there in the first place. He doesn't give it much thought after he exits the supermarket and walks home.

Bokuto is still getting used to living alone but so far he's enjoying it.

The place he's moved into after his roommate and best friend, Kuroo, decided to move in with his boyfriend, is a modest apartment on the first floor of a small two-story building located in a quiet suburban street of Tokyo, just a few blocks away from the veterinary clinic where he works. It's airy and well-lit and he particularly likes the balcony in his living room.

His landlady, Mitsuyo-san, a nice, tiny old woman, lives on the ground floor and baked him butter cookies as a welcome gift.

He's yet to meet his upstairs neighbour. So far the only thing he knows about them is the sound of their footsteps due to poor sound insulation between his and the apartment above. It hasn't been too big of a problem so far.

It's the seventh day after Bokuto officially moves in when it does become a problem. All was well while the only things he could hear were the quiet sounds of steps and the occasional music playing. The songs were good even if he didn't recognize most of them - was it english he heard? Whatever it was, it wasn't japanese - so he didn't mind much.

But today it's not the steps or the music he's worried about. Today, at a quarter past midnight on a Friday, Bokuto is lying on his bed and listening to his upstairs neighbours fucking. Really, there's no mistaking the muffled moans and thumps that reach his ears.

Embarrassment makes blood travel up to his face, even though there's no one with him, as he distinctly hears two different voices; a hoarse one with off-putting grunts, dispassionate, almost - Bokuto thinks offhandedly he isn't looking forward to meeting this person - and a lower, softer one, harder to hear but audible nonetheless. He hears enough to figure that it's probably two men. Or a man and a girl with a very deep voice. Or two girls with deep-

Why is he giving it so much thought, again?

He tries to mute the sounds by wrapping his pillow around his head. It works. Somewhat. He considers calling Kuroo but he'd probably just laugh at him for ten minutes and that's not exactly what he needs right now. The sounds stop a few minutes later, though, and by that time Bokuto's already half asleep, exhaustion taking over any rational thought he could've had.

The last thing he remembers is the sound of someone noisily climbing down the stairs to presumably exit the building.

He asks Mitsuyo-san about the sound insulation the next day.

She tells him the upper floor used to be an attic that got turned into an apartment. Her family was running low on money at the time so they preferred to invest more in thermal insulation ("Attics get unbearably hot during summer," she explains) than acoustic insulation, so she always takes special care with who she rents the apartment to.

She's fairly certain their third neighbour is a very quiet and peaceful person and asks if Bokuto had any problems. He doesn't tell her about the previous night and assures her it's okay.

One week later, Bokuto has just entered the building after being done with his shift when he finally meets his neighbour.

He's about to head up the stairs when he hears someone struggling with the lock outside. Assuming it's Mitsuyo-san, he walks back to the door without thinking twice and opens it to help his landlady.

Except... it's not her.

Bokuto is thoroughly unprepared for the flashback he gets to almost two weeks ago. Supermarket. Eyeliner. Black clothes. Cereal hitting him in the head.

He finds himself considering the possibility of a hallucination again because the person standing in front of him looks straight out of a fantasy novel where nymphs, sirens and dragons are a thing. The ethereal being that is the man on the other side of the door is tall yet shorter than Bokuto, slender body dressed in black, his shoulders and neck covered by an oversized grey scarf. His black hair is lightly tousled by the chilly autumn wind and Bokuto can't help but notice again the smokey eyeliner around his eyes. It's not exaggerated, far from it, but it's there and Bokuto is entranced by it.

Well, as entranced as he can be when he's been blocking the door, staring for what is probably an improper amount of time, and the guy is slowly lifting an unimpressed eyebrow at Bokuto.

He snaps out of it, muttering a "Hello," as he steps away from the door to let the other in. He isn't sure, because the scarf is covering the other man's chin, but he thinks he gets acknowledged with a nod. Only then does Bokuto notice he's carrying three grocery bags that look way too heavy for his lean frame but he seems to be holding just fine.

That is, until he drops his keys and huffs quietly in frustration.

Bokuto rushes to close the door and pick up the fallen keys, flashing the man a smile, "Need any help?"

The other just hums, handing him one of the bags, and they make their way upstairs.

Looking over his shoulder, Bokuto asks the obvious question, "So you're my neighbour, uh?"

The man pulls his chin out of his scarf and speaks for the first time, "Seems like it." His voice is calm and collected, a nice contrast to Bokuto's boisterous one. He likes it.

When they reach the second floor, he holds up the keys, asking for permission to unlock the door; his neighbour nods. Bokuto lets him in and the black haired man sets the bags by the door, turning around to face Bokuto and extend his hand, "Thank you for your help," they shake hands, "My name is Akaashi Keiji."

"Bokuto Koutarou, nice to meet you!" he says, flashing a friendly smile. Akaashi's hand is cold, thin, but firm against his. He doesn't smile back but Bokuto doesn't feel an ounce of rudeness or hostility hanging in the air. He probably just doesn't smile much and that's okay.

"Nice to meet you too, Bokuto-san."

"Well, I live just downstairs so if you ever need anything, feel free to drop by!"

"I appreciate it."

"I'll see you around, Akaashi-san," Bokuto says, turning around and waving.

Akaashi waves back lightly before closing the door.

Bokuto is entering his apartment, thinking about how pretty of a name Akaashi Keiji is and how well it suits its owner when it really hits him. Akaashi lives upstairs from him. It's Akaashi's steps he hears, his music he listens to... his moans he heard the other day. It's not even intentional when his legs give out from under him and he collapses against the door, heat rushing to his cheeks and neck and ears and everywhere. At least he's thankful he didn't remember that little detail while in front of Akaashi. He's pretty sure he'd be too flustered to function.

It's a Saturday night when Kuroo finally comes to visit his new place.

"Dude, I'm not gonna watch the first three movies," Bokuto complains when Kuroo suggests they have a Star Wars marathon.

"You totally are, bro, they're hilarious," is Kuroo's only argument.

"No way, it's a waste of time."

"Fine," Kuroo grumbles with an eye roll, "Not even just the third? I swear the last 30 minutes are worth it."

Bokuto barks a laugh at that, "Whatever, dude."

Bokuto ends up deciding that the most amusing part of the film are the awful scene transitions (What did they use to edit this? Windows Movie Maker? Kuroo just snorts before kicking him and muttering It's a goddamn homage to old japanese samurai movies, asshole.)

So, they're halfway through Episode IV, their second movie of the night, when the first sounds come. Bokuto freezes almost instantly. Kuroo whips his head up to the ceiling, just like a cat would turn its ears towards an unfamiliar sound.

"What was that?" he asks.

Bokuto doesn't have time to answer when there's a particularly loud thud, like something crashing to the floor.

"Are they fighting up there or something?" Kuroo wonders after pausing the movie. Bad idea, Bokuto thinks.

"No, not exactly..."

There's really no need to elaborate further since a low, self-explanatory moan resonates across the room. Bokuto hugs his knees against his chest and hides his face as blood rushes to his cheeks, "Oh god," he whispers. He recognizes that voice.

Kuroo tries to keep his voice down, but the beginnings of laughter are starting to show on his face, "Dude. Bokuto. They're fucking."

Another moan. This one Bokuto has never heard before. That does it for Kuroo.

"I can't believe this," he says before clamping his hand over his mouth, though his wide eyes betray the state of hysteria he's slowly entering.

Bokuto remains silent as more lewd sounds trickle from somewhere above his ceiling, feeling Kuroo's body shaking next to him with muffled laughter. He's ready to fly across the country when he hears a drawn out moan he definitely recognizes as his neighbour's. He regrets ever opening the door to Akaashi that day.

Kuroo's body is now practically convulsing with poorly concealed giggles, a single tear rolling down his cheek. It's only when Kuroo pretty much surrenders and his booming laughter fills the room that Bokuto reacts and launches across the couch to stuff a pillow over his face, making Kuroo sputter but still shake with amusement beneath Bokuto.

When the sounds don't stop and only become more incessant, he yanks Kuroo up and out of the couch to drag him out of the house.

"Let's go for a walk," he says.

Kuroo looks at him with dazed eyes and a shit-eating grin, looking almost like he's stoned, "Yeah, you definitely look like you need some fresh air," Bokuto glares at him as he grabs his keys and locks the door, "How long has it been since you got laid? Should I go up there and ask them to let you join the party?"

"Shut the fuck up," Bokuto whispers, turning to rush down the stairs.

Half an hour later, they're making their way back to the house, when they see someone exiting the building, conspicuously tucking their button-up inside their pants and trying to fix their visibly mussed up hair. The man hurries down the sidewalk and walks right by the duo without even sparing them a glance.

When he's out of earshot, Kuroo whistles lowly, "That was one fine piece of man. So, tell me, how hot does your neighbour have to be to get that into his bed?" He grins.

Bokuto just blushes up to his ears as he opens the door.

"Ohoho, oh my. I'd like to meet this neighbour of yours someday."

Bokuto scoffs, "What, Daichi not enough for you or something?"

Kuroo squawks indignantly, "Not for me! For you!"

"Yeah, yeah. Just keep it down, would you? It's almost one in the morning."

"Shit, sorry."

Kuroo only teases Bokuto a little before he grabs his coat and gets going, leaving Bokuto to his thoughts.

The next morning he slowly wakes up to the sound of soft music playing - that he doesn't recognize, once again - but it's a happy tune, somehow matching the delicate Autumn sunlight filtering through his curtains, and he thinks maybe this whole situation isn't so bad. He rises and eats breakfast to the quietened music that plays for well more than one hour, silently admitting his disappointment when it stops coming at some point.

Bokuto and his neighbour become somewhat acquainted over the course of a couple of weeks, from crossing paths while going about their daily lives; they meet countless times while going up or down the stairs or exiting the building; there is this one day Akaashi knocks on his door asking for matches and Bokuto gladly offers him an entire box; another day has Bokuto finding Akaashi at a nearby coffeeshop, wrapped in an oversized scarf again, silently fuming because they messed up his order, - the little scowl on his face makes his nose crinkle in the most endearing way - and it's Bokuto who asks for a new drink.

He likes Akaashi. He really does. He's convinced there's much more to him behind his quiet, slightly annoyed demeanour, and without really intending to, Bokuto feels himself being pulled into his neighbour's orbit. He's more than okay with it.

As autumn progresses and the temperatures drop, Bokuto decides to switch his morning jogs for afternoon ones. It's starting to get too chilly in the morning and the last thing he wants is to catch a cold. Plus, he gets to sleep in.

So, it's at around 5pm on a Monday that he finds Akaashi in the entrance hall of the building, bent over - Bokuto tries his best not to stare for too long at his butt -, tying his shoelace.

"Hey, hey, Akaashi-san!"

He glances at Bokuto and raises to his feet, "Good afternoon, Bokuto-san."

"O-oh, are you going for a jog?" Bokuto asks as he looks Akaashi up and down.

It's the first time he sees him without eyeliner but Akaashi looks just as breath-taking as ever. He's wearing a white running jacket with black and yellow stripes around the shoulders, zipped up to his chin, and tight black running pants that cling to his really, really... really long legs. His legs look like they go on for kilometers. Holy. Akaashi walks around in tight black jeans all the time, and yet, Bokuto had never really noticed.

"I am. You too?"

"Yeah!" And before he can really think about what he's saying, "We could go together!"

Akaashi hums, "If you want. I hope you don't mind I listen to music, though," he says as he pulls a small iPod from his jacket pocket.

"Not at all! You can lead the way too. You've been living here for longer than I have."

"Try to keep up," is all Akaashi says before he plugs in his headphones and exits the building.

Bokuto swears he could hear a challenge in his voice and see the beginnings of a grin on his lips.

He also soon discovers that the problem with speaking before thinking things through is that he finds himself in situations he should have anticipated, but never even crossed his mind in the first place. Because Akaashi is lean and light, while Bokuto is tall and definitely more athletic, but that doesn't necessarily mean he can keep up with Akaashi. Because he can't. Not after 45 minutes, at least. Apart from the occasional "Are you okay? Can you keep going?" from his neighbour and the frantic nodding from Bokuto, he's glad they haven't exchanged a single word because he would've been out of breath by now.

What the fuck is up with Akaashi's never ending endurance that they've been running for almost an hour and his cheeks are only slightly pink - and that could be from the cold and not fatigue - while, at this point, Bokuto is running out of sheer force of will, his leg muscles aching like crazy and his lungs burning with every breath he takes.

It's with great relief that, when Akaashi slows to a walk a few blocks away from their building, Bokuto stops completely and doubles over, hands on his knees, chest heaving to catch his breath. Akaashi stops too when he notices Bokuto isn't keeping up and unplugs his headphones.

"Bokuto-san? Are you okay? I'm sorry, was it too much for you?"

Bokuto takes a few seconds to gather his breath, "No," he shakes his head and speaks between pants, "I mean, maybe." He stands up straight and runs a hand through his damp hair, "Phew! I liked it, though," Akaashi raises an eyebrow, "I did, seriously! We should do this more often!"

"If you really want to," and this time Akaashi is definitely grinning. It's barely there, but he looks positively mischievous.

Bokuto is still panting heavily when they resume walking. He notices Akaashi is too, but he looks about a hundred times more composed than Bokuto.

"Where did you get all that stamina?" Bokuto asks.

"I started running when I was thirteen. Entered my first marathon when I turned twenty."

"Woah, you entered a marathon?!"

Akaashi chuckles quietly, "I enter a marathon at least once a year."

"Akaashi, that's impressive!"

"Thank you, Bokuto-san."

"I'm more of a speed kind of person, you know. But mostly because I never have company and get bored with long runs. But today I liked it! You're a good jogging partner, Akaashi!"

"I'm glad. You did well."

The next day, Bokuto is one hundred percent sure Akaashi can hear him cry in pain when he gets out of bed and feels how sore his muscles are.

Their joint runs three times a week are just the first step in their weekly routine.

Bokuto wakes up a little more disoriented than usual, on his couch, to loud knocks on his door, Akaashi's voice and a funny smell.

"Bokuto-san, please open up."

He rises from where he'd been sprawled on the couch only to trip over a stray sweater and fall on his face. Could this day get any worse.

More knocking, "Bokuto-san?"

"Comin', comin'," he says, voice hoarse, as he half walks, half crawls to the door.

When he peeks his head around the door, Akaashi is standing on the other side, looking pretty but somewhat upset.

"Akaashi? What are yo-"

"Bokuto-san, is everything okay? It smells like your house is on fire."

Bokuto sleepily rubs at one eye and slumps against the door, "What are you sayin-"

His eyes widen comically when he becomes aware of the terrible smell currently assaulting his nose, though it takes some time for his sluggish brain to catch up. And when it does, "My dinner!"

Bokuto bolts to the kitchen to turn off the stove. On top of it, a miserable looking pan contains what used to be meat and vegetables, now reduced to dry, blackened chunks of nothing. He half-heartedly pokes at it with a fork.

"Did you fall asleep while cooking dinner?" Akaashi is peering from the door at Bokuto's disaster of a kitchen, an insufferable stench and a cloud of grey smoke hanging in the air.

Bokuto feels defeated. "I fell asleep on the couch, yeah..."

"Bokuto-san, are you feeling okay?"

Bokuto throws the contents of the pan into the trash before he replies quietly, "Not really, no. I'm a vet assistant," he throws the pan in the sink and walks to the door again, where Akaashi is still standing, "And today we had to put down this little dog... he'd been fighting cancer for a few months but it kept coming back and he was in so much pain… I don't know. It's just - days like this are tough."

"I'm sorry."

Bokuto shrugs and flashes a tired smile, "Comes with the job."

He watches as Akaashi eyes the plastic bag he's holding, obviously contemplating something. A few seconds pass before he purses his lips to the side - Bokuto would find it cute if he wasn't feeling so down - and speaks up, "I got take out. I think I have enough for two. Would you like to come up?"

And that's how Akaashi finds himself climbing the stairs to his apartment with Bokuto close behind.

He isn't sure why he'd invited him in the first place, but it's a fact he’d hated how worn out Bokuto looked, dressed in dumb plaid boxers and a ratty old shirt, his skin pale, hair sticking up on one side, and no signs of his trademark smile. Maybe he just figured he could use some company, seeing as Bokuto seems to thrive when he's interacting with people. Turns out, he wasn't wrong because Bokuto had visibly perked up at Akaashi's invitation and his voice had raised a few octaves when he exclaimed "Yes!", some of the sadness on his face evaporating.

He's wearing presentable clothes and his hair isn't sticking up anymore now, as they enter Akaashi's apartment and step out of their shoes. He doesn't miss the quiet, amazed whoa Bokuto lets fall from his lips as he takes in Akaashi's apartment.

"Akaashi, your house is really cool," he comments, a bit of his usual glee seeping back into his voice.

"Thank you, Bokuto-san."

Akaashi watches from the island separating the miniscule kitchen from the living room where Bokuto meanders, inspecting the slanted ceiling, the hammock he's got hanging in front of the window, the several piles of books next to the couch, the couch itself. He looks like a wild animal sniffing his unknown surroundings, except he doesn't look suspicious, just curious.

Akaashi keeps watching as he takes the take out boxes from the bag - miso ramen with extra toppings, because he was feeling hungry today - and sets them on the table, turning around to grab two bowls and chopsticks. When he spins back around, Bokuto is staring intently at the wall opposite to the window, where a world map is stacked, dozens of photos surrounding it, hanging by small clothespins on several pieces of cord.

An amazed little sound makes its way out of Bokuto's mouth again, "Did you take these yourself?"

"I did."

"But all these places are like... so far away?"

"South America," Akaashi replies as he splits the ramen between the two bowls.

"I know, I recognize Bolivia," Bokuto says as he points to a photo Akaashi assumes is Salar de Uyuni, and he almost drops his chopsticks when Bokuto nearly yells, stabbing a particular shot with his pointer finger, "And Peru! Oh man, you went to Machu Picchu!"

"Yes, I did, Bokuto-san, please calm down. You can come and eat now."

Bokuto looks at the photos for a couple more seconds before sitting at the kitchen island across from Akaashi. He stares at him in awe, eyes big, bright and yellow, a little colour returning to his pale cheeks as his mournful mood slowly recedes. When they dive into their food, he can't seem to keep the million questions he has from tumbling out of his mouth. Akaashi answers them all, perhaps with a bit more enthusiasm than he'd care to admit, because Bokuto's renewed energy is somewhat contagious and he can't help the small quirk of his lips when he tells Bokuto about his trip.

A few questions later and Bokuto is positively shining, looking overwhelmed, almost, and Akaashi feels warm inside.

He tells him how he'd worked a part-time job throughout college and, when he was done with it at the age of 21, caught a plane to Colombia, only setting foot in Japan one year later, after travelling down the south american coast, visiting six different countries - Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, Chile and Argentina.

Bokuto listens intently - he's a surprisingly good listener for someone with such a loud mouth - and at some point they migrate from the kitchen island to the couch, where Bokuto has a better view of the photos hanging on the wall. They talk for hours, the conversation eventually shifting to other topics like Akaashi's job as a librarian, Bokuto's own future plans of travelling, how he used to spike his hair in highschool and his enthusiastic rambling about volleyball.

I played volleyball in highschool too.
Really?! What position?
Setter.
I was the captain of my team, ace and a wing spiker!
That’s very impressive, Bokuto-san.
I think so too! We gotta play some day, Akaashi, I'm sure we would make one hell of a duo!

But eventually it gets late and tomorrow's a working day so Akaashi walks Bokuto to the door after they both yawn in unison.

"How often do you get days like this?" Akaashi asks as he opens the door.

"Days like what?" Bokuto looks at him in confusion while he puts on his shoes.

Akaashi rolls his eyes, "Days when you get like how I found you today. Being a fire-hazard."

"Oh," Bokuto sheepishly runs a hand along the back of his neck while looking at his feet, "We do put a lot of animals down so..."

Akaashi doesn't know what it is that makes him say what he's about to say. Maybe it's Bokuto's enthusiasm for everything, so much passion and excitement boiling under his skin Akaashi is both scared and curious to know if he'll burn if he gets too close; maybe it's how Bokuto dropped the -san from his name after the very first time they went jogging; maybe it's his honesty and his bright yellow eyes that look at him with fiery intensity and his short, unruly grey hair that makes him want to run his hands through it and maybe pull on the darker, black streaks; maybe it's the way he still remembers Bokuto looking at him in the supermarket, awestruck, before taking three cereal boxes to the head.

So yeah, maybe he does want to burn, wants more of those yellow eyes, wants more from Bokuto. But for now, he blames it on the sleep-induced daze he's slowly entering.

Yet, he's still blunt, straight to the point, because that's just how he is, "Come around when you're feeling down."

The way Bokuto's eyebrows shoot up makes him wonder, for a second, if he overstepped some kind of boundary.

But Bokuto grins, wide and genuine, "Maybe I will! Thanks Akaashi!" He says as he steps out of the apartment.

"Goodnight Bokuto-san," Akaashi waves.

Bokuto waves back, "Goodnight!"

To: Kuroo ♡
akaashi is freakign amazing
he invited me for dinner yesterday

From: Kuroo ♡
judging by how oftn u talk about him
he better be
oooo wait
was it a date did u get laid

To: Kuroo ♡
dude no!!!
i was in one of those moods n almost set fire to my kitchen
so he invited me over
just neighbours being friendly

From: Kuroo ♡
so u had a nice civilized night w him
thats not how i raised u
jk jk im happy for u bro

For the next month and a half, they add dinners at Akaashi's apartment to the weekly routine they had established before without ever meaning to.

Bokuto still joins Akaashi for a jog three times a week, and even though he goes for a run six days out of seven - when it's not raining -, he's come to treasure his late afternoon jogs with Bokuto. There is something really relaxing about running around their neighbourhood as the days get progressively colder and greyer, with Bokuto by his side. Akaashi had even stopped bringing his iPod at some point.

The final ten minutes of their workout, usually reserved for cooling down, turn into more than half an hour of aimlessly walking around whenever they're graced with the few sunny days and pink sunsets early November has to offer, while they chatter about anything and everything (mostly Bokuto, Akaashi likes to listen).

Every once in a while, when they cross a small local park, Bokuto challenges him for a sprint. Akaashi always accepts, even if he knows that, despite having long, athletic legs, he's still shorter than Bokuto and has got nothing on his powerful legs that propel him forward at almost an inhuman speed for a few seconds, just like a cheetah.

It's always with a subtle smile that Akaashi watches Bokuto jumping up and down with joy every time he wins, hooting happily, earning a few strange looks from people passing by.

"I really am the best!" He had even yelled one day, and Akaashi had taken the longest route back to their block, in a slightly faster than usual pace, just to spite him. To his credit, though, Bokuto's endurance is steadily improving.

After one particularly rainy morning, the sky clears after lunch time and by the time their usual jogging hour comes around, Akaashi deems it safe to go out.

Not even twenty minutes in, though, Bokuto slips on some wet leaves, yelping before he braces himself on a fence so he doesn't fall on his ass.

"Bokuto-san, be careful, please," Akaashi had told him, only to, literally five minutes later, slip on a muddy puddle himself and miss going face first into a pole by a few centimeters.

Akaashi had glared at Bokuto while he clutched his stomach from laughing so hard. Their jog was cut short that day.

Akaashi also finds how fun it is to get wet in the rain when, more than once, they're caught in pouring rain, which has them running as fast as they can back to their building, dodging poles, umbrellas and puddles, Bokuto howling with laughter where he always runs just a few meters ahead of Akaashi.

Every time they make it back soaked through, panting like crazy, but with smiles on their faces.

So, in addition to all of this, Bokuto shows up every other week at Akaashi's place, sulking over animals they have to put down at the clinic, and it's never as easy to cheer him up as it was that first time, when Akaashi hadn't needed to do much since Bokuto had basically cheered himself up. But he finds that a good remedy to his low moods is showing him the albums he has filled with the rest of the photos from his travels, telling him one or two interesting stories behind the shots. Bokuto is all ears.

Akaashi also suspects Bokuto is particularly fond of the way they always end up sitting next to each other on the couch - shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, just pretty much invading each other's personal spaces - with the albums splayed on Bokuto's thighs and Akaashi leaning against him, pointing at this and that shot.

He feels Bokuto's eyes on him when he not-so-subtly stares at his profile sometimes, instead of looking at whatever photo Akaashi's pointing at.

He doesn't mind, though, because, more than once, he finds himself staring at Bokuto's hands thumbing the pages and gesturing while he talks - he's always had a thing for hands and Bokuto's are big, tan, all bony knuckles and a few crooked fingers, yet surprisingly gentle for their size. If Akaashi had any artistic skills, it'd be Bokuto's hands he'd draw, over and over again. But he doesn't, so he just observes and hopes he'll get to touch them properly some day.

And it seems only natural when most of their joint runs end up in dinners at Akaashi's place too - Bokuto seems to have taken a liking to his cozy apartment. Sometimes they stop somewhere to buy take out beforehand, other times they cook together. Bokuto is an exceptionally good cook and he absolutely glows every time Akaashi tells him so.

Akaashi plays his music, and they lounge in his living room after dinner, either chatting quietly - as quiet as Bokuto gets, anyway - about nothing or just sitting in comfortable silence, Akaashi reading in the couch and Bokuto lying on the hammock he's come to love so much, either looking out the window or perusing through the travel albums. Akaashi would much prefer if he sat next to him on the couch, but he isn't complaining.

It's the final touch to their weekly routine and it's a very nice thing they've got going on, Akaashi thinks.

Almost two months of hanging out with Akaashi, two months of observing his little quirks, gestures and cute expressions and Bokuto is close to bursting with joy.

It gets harder and harder to deal with the surges of affection he gets whenever Akaashi lets him inside his apartment without hesitation when he's feeling down, tells him stories of his travels in that low, smoky voice of his to cheer him up. Bokuto listens while he watches his lips move around the words, his eyes lighting up whenever he remembers a tiny detail he thought he'd forgotten about.

It's not like he wouldn't be able to get out of his low mood by himself, but he'd trade a night of lonely sulking for a night with Akaashi any day, especially since he’s made more of a home of Akaashi’s apartment than his own.

He looks forward to every late afternoon jog with Akaashi. He likes the way Akaashi dresses in dark colours, especially the sweater he puts on sometimes when they chill at his apartment - it looks warm and fluffy and it fits loosely on Akaashi's slim frame, collar big and wide enough to reveal his wonderful collarbones. He likes Akaashi's dark eyes with or without eyeliner. He likes to stare at his delicate profile, long lashes casting soft shadows over his cheeks. He likes to look at him from the hammock, barefoot, long legs crossed on the couch, eyes scanning whichever book he's reading. He'd join him there but it'd be awkward to sit so close to him without any apparent reason.

He loves Akaashi's smell - something like coconut -, the sound of his laughter - something he’s been hearing increasingly often -, the way one of his canines sticks out just a bit, the curve of his smile, the furrow of his eyebrows. He loves Akaashi's quietude and bluntness just as much as he loves his deadpan, playful side, a facet Akaashi has been showing more frequently the more comfortable they get around each other.

Bokuto can feel it every time he makes Akaashi smile, every time their hands brush.

To: Kuroo ♡
i think im falling for him
like way too fast
i dont know what to do with myself

From: Kuroo ♡
!!!! bro u gotta introduce him
u know daichis gonna close the bar next week
friends only
i was already gonna invite u
but u know u could bring akaashi
itd be nice

To: Kuroo ♡
yeah!! ill talk to him and let u know if he comes

Today is one of the normal days - Bokuto is not in one of his moods – and now, post-jog showers taken and all, Bokuto is shoving a shopping bag into Akaashi's arms, full of what are probably ingredients to bake something, judging by the flour and the eggs.

"Let's bake some dorayaki!" Bokuto announces, loudly.

"Dorayaki? I haven't had one of those in years."

"Exactly! It'll be fun!"

And the next thing Akaashi knows, they've eaten their take out, his kitchen counter is a mess and he has his fingers knuckle deep in a heap of flour. Okay, so maybe he didn't need to stick his fingers in it but he likes the feeling of the thin, cool powder on his skin.

Bokuto's pacing around the small kitchen, vigorously mixing the ingredients in a bowl and Akaashi is reminded of the real reason he'd been sticking his fingers in flour in the first place - a failed attempt to ignore the way Bokuto's forearms flex with the circular movements.

After a minute, Bokuto sets the bowl on the counter and huffs, obviously pleased, "There, I think it's done! Now to the fridge," he says as he picks it up and turns to the fridge. He sets it inside and when he shuts the door and claps his hands, a cloud of flour lifts into the air, making him wrinkle his nose. It’s a wonder he doesn’t sneeze. Idiot.

"And for the filling?" Akaashi asks.

"Well I didn't see any jam worth bringing, so I just bought chocolate," he says as he reaches into the bag and pulls a decently sized chocolate bar, "We just gotta melt it!"

"Okay, let's... Oh, Bokuto-san, I think you stained your shirt," Akaashi notices, pointing to Bokuto's shirt.

He really, really doesn't mean to touch him so it's an honest mistake when his finger pokes Bokuto's stomach when he moves to face Akaashi.

Something interesting happens. Akaashi stands very still.

Bokuto tries to play it off, "Oh? That's okay, it shouldn't be too hard to wash."

Akaashi likes to think of himself as a serious, reserved person. He is a serious, reserved person. Never the overly touchy-feely type, even if he enjoys sex just the same as any other twenty-five year old. Maybe even a little more than average. But that's not the point. The point is, he's not made of ice. And that means he smiles when he feels like, he laughs when he has to. And lately Bokuto's been the main cause of those things.

But right now, he's close to biting his lip until it bleeds because the grin he's trying to hide is just too wide to contain. Because, just five seconds ago, Akaashi saw (and felt) how Bokuto flinched under his touch, how his stomach tensed before he took a step back. In fact, Akaashi's pretty sure Bokuto was just this short of letting out a squeak before he spoke. For some reason he just finds it hilarious how Bokuto had tried so hard to hide it.

"Bokuto-san..." He takes a step forward, quirks an eyebrow, feels his bottom lip slide from between his teeth to curl in a devilish grin. This could be fun. Bokuto takes a tentative step back. Akaashi continues, "Do you happen to be... ticklish?"

"N-no?", Bokuto stammers but his words are betrayed by the way his arms come to hug his stomach, how he's currently retreating across the room, eyes wide as saucers, away from Akaashi. It also doesn't help that Bokuto can never, ever, hide any emotion from showing on his face.

Akaashi's grin can't get any wider, "Liar," and that's all the warning he gives before he's launching across the room, tackling a shrieking Bokuto onto the couch and digging his fingers into his ribs.

The best thing about this is knowing that Bokuto could so easily overpower him; he could just grab his hands, flip them over and pin Akaashi to the couch instead, but the wonderful truth is that Bokuto's strength is rendered absolutely useless under Akaashi's poking fingers. His eyes are scrunched so tight he doubts he could even open them if he wanted, his mouth open wide with howling laughter and high pitched screeches, and the only thing he seems capable of doing is to just squirm uncontrollably under Akaashi's body.

Never once in his life had Akaashi thought this big, solid piece of man could be as ticklish as a five year old, but he feels like the world is a better place now that all he can hear is Bokuto’s laughter.

"Aka.....a...shi, ple..a......se," is what Bokuto eventually manages to gasp between breaths, "Noo....ooo..o!"

He claws helplessly at Akaashi's offending hands, legs flailing, no real strength behind his movements. His loud, uninhibited cackles echo across the room (and probably building) and Akaashi can see his bare abs shifting under his skin, since his shirt has ridden almost up to his chest with all his wiggling and writhing, revealing a very fascinating thick line of hair trailing down his lower abdomen before dipping under the hem of his sweatpants.

Now is definitely not a good time to get a boner, Akaashi thinks.

But as much as he loves Bokuto's laughter and doesn't want it to stop, he doesn't really want to tickle his neighbour to death, so, after what probably feels like an eternity for Bokuto, he retreats his fingers, watching as he slowly relaxes, loud laughter dying down to heavy pants, his whole body heaving to catch his breath.

But maybe watching wasn't such a good idea because as Bokuto cracks open one eye, Akaashi becomes aware of the position they're currently in; he'd been so enthralled by the man under him he hadn't actually realized he'd ended up straddling Bokuto's upper thighs, his hands now resting on either side of his ribs. It'd be so easy to just lean forward and kiss the smile off his lips.

But he pointedly ignores the way Bokuto's eyeing him up and down and plops beside him on the couch. Just like that, the moment is gone.

Was that disappointment he saw on Bokuto's face? Whatever it was, it's gone as fast as it came.

Bokuto is still trying to catch his breath, hasn't even bothered to pull his shirt down, but when their eyes meet again, Akaashi is pretty sure he didn't mind the tickles judging by the way he's smiling like an idiot. Akaashi returns it with a small, pleased smile of his own.

Bokuto half-heartedly points at him, "I will...", He pants, "... get you for that."

Akaashi just scoffs, standing up, "Unfortunately for you, Bokuto-san, I'm not ticklish," and he walks back to the kitchen to melt the chocolate.

Bokuto later decides that throwing a fistful of flour to his face is payback enough. Akaashi may or may have not returned the gesture. Bokuto may or may have not blinked at him with his big, doeful yellow eyes, face covered in flour, and flashed a smile so blinding Akaashi could've sworn he could still see it when he closed his eyes later that night.

"Hey, so, some of my friends own this bar," Bokuto speaks up after they've both cleaned their faces, "And they're closing it up for a private party next Saturday. Do you wanna come? It'll be cool."

"Mhm, okay."

"Wha, seriously?" Bokuto turns to him like he hadn't expected that answer at all.

“Yes, Bokuto-san. It sounds fun.”

The corners of Bokuto’s eyes wrinkle when he smiles, big and genuine, and he’s humming a happy little tune when they finally get to making some dorayaki.

To: Kuroo ♡
he's coming!!!
oh man he's coming
what did i just do

From: Kuroo ♡
hell yeah bro
just relax itll be fine im sure
and if it isnt
the drinks are on me

The following week passes by in a blur. Bokuto gets fidgety every time he thinks about the party and not even his jogs with Akaashi are enough to calm him down. He isn't completely sure why he's nervous. It might be because this is the first time they're doing something that doesn't involve running or eating, and actually includes other people. What if Akaashi doesn't like his friends?

No. No, this isn't the time to be thinking about this, not when he's just knocked on Akaashi's door so they can walk together to the bar.

Akaashi opens the door a few seconds after he snaps out of his worried trance, hands fumbling with the upper buttons of his white dress shirt.

"Hey," he says as a way of greeting.

"Hey hey hey, Akaashi! Looking good!"

The compliment is out before he can stop it but he doesn't mind because it's true. Bokuto has never seen him wearing white and he looks... stunning. Especially since Bokuto also immediately recognizes the black jeans he's wearing as the most flattering he owns, a pair that hugs his butt and legs so well it's sinful to look at, but even more of a sin not to sneak a few glances. The eyeliner on his upper lids is subtle, yet enough to make his eyes look striking.

So yeah, Akaashi is a walking wet dream, what else is new.

"Thank you. You too, Bokuto-san," Akaashi says, turning to grab a black coat from the coat rack.

He flushes when he hears the compliment, not really expecting it. He’s not wearing anything special, just a grey sports jacket over a maroon shirt and black pants as well.

Akaashi grabs a scarf because it's the beginning of December and the temperatures are really dropping, especially at night.

"Ready?" Bokuto asks.

"Yeah, let's go."

It's still early, barely past 8pm, but the sunset was hours ago and their twenty minute walk to the bar is peaceful, filled with mostly Bokuto babbling about some of the friends Akaashi's about to meet.

They're twenty meters away from the bar when Bokuto's phone starts ringing and, at the same time, Kuroo steps out the establishment, phone to his ear.

Bokuto picks it up anyway and half yells into the receiver, "Bro, we're literally seeing you."

"What? Oh!" Kuroo hangs up on him and waves at them.

He has a feral grin plastered on his face as Bokuto walks up to him.

"What's up bro," Kuroo greets as they fist bump, following with a hug cut short by Bokuto because Akaashi is just standing behind them.

He beckons his neighbour over with a friendly smile and he's actually thankful they found Kuroo outside because he really didn't want to introduce them both with more than two or three people around them.

Kuroo's grin only gets wider when he sets his eyes on Akaashi.

"So, you must be Akaashi-san," he wants to lean against the doorframe but miscalculates the distance and ends up slipping. He recovers quickly, though, "I've heard a lot of good things about you."

On second thought, Bokuto is already regretting this decision. Why did he ever think introducing Kuroo to Akaashi was a good idea. Why.

Kuroo extends his hands, Cheshire cat smile still in place, "I'm Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto's partner in crime and best friend for life."

Akaashi shakes his hands, dark eyes studying the messy haired man in front of him, "Akaashi Keiji. I don't think Bokuto has ever mentioned you."

"Akaashi!"

"Bro!!"

The other two men say at the same time. Bokuto glares at Akaashi while Kuroo lets go of the handshake to clutch his chest, mouth agape in shock.

Akaashi has a smug little grin on his lips.

"I feel so betrayed," Kuroo whines.

"No. No, no, no," Bokuto's eyes are darting frantically between Akaashi and Kuroo as he tries to explain himself, "That's definitely not true, I have mentioned you plenty of times, I've just never said your name!"

Kuroo visibly relaxes at that, not that there was any real danger of him getting mad in the first place, and claps Akaashi on the shoulder, laughing, "I think I like you already, Akaashi-san! Now let's get inside because I'm freezing my balls off."

The bar is big but warm and friendly, decorated in a modern rustic style of sorts. Bokuto knows pretty much person there so, once they get rid of their coats and scarves, it's a while until he's greeted everyone and introduced Akaashi, who addresses everyone politely.

They're hanging at one of the corners of the bar with Kuroo and his boyfriend, the host of the party, Daichi, as more and more people arrive, occasionally coming to greet the group. At some point, a happy little squeal comes from somewhere in the crowd.

"Daichiii!"

They all look up as Sugawara Koushi emerges from the mass of bodies quickly filling the room, running towards them, a distressed looking Oikawa Tooru in tow. Their linked hands detach as Suga flings himself at Daichi, who catches him in a hug, and Oikawa walks to sling an arm around Kuroo's shoulders, smiling knowingly at each other as a greeting.

Bokuto feels like he's missing something here. He shoots an inquisitive look at Kuroo, who just wiggles his eyebrows. There's definitely something going on here.

"Good evening, Bokuto-san!" Suga greets from where he's still leaning against Daichi, "And, oh! Akaashi-san! What a surprise, I didn't know you were friends with this bunch of delinquents."

"Hello, Sugawara-san. I came with Bokuto-san."

"Wait, how do you know each other?" Bokuto interrupts, curious.

"Sugawara-san works with me at the library," Akaashi explains.

"Yup," Suga chimes in, "See, Tooru, this is the co-worker I've talked to you about."

Oikawa hums happily, "I see. We were just going to get something to drink, wanna come?"

Akaashi doesn't really have time to answer before he's being dragged by Suga to the bar.

Bokuto can only watch as Akaashi is literally stolen from his side.

Daichi laughs, "Knowing Suga, I can only imagine why he'd talk about Akaashi-san with Oikawa."

"What." Bokuto deadpans.

"Oh, sorry, I'll be right back," Daichi excuses himself as he spots someone new entering the bar.

Bokuto turns to Kuroo, "Wha-what did he mean by that...?"

"Relax, they have their hands full with... other people right now."

"What. What is happening?" Bokuto is at a loss. He looks around the bar, searching for answers.

"You're so innocent sometimes I just wanna kiss you, bro."

"What was that all about with Oikawa-san and Sugawara-san?"

"Oh, that. They might have talked Daichi and I into, y'know... Mostly Suga, though. That guy knows how to get to Daichi."

The light bulb goes off in Bokuto’s head. Oh.

"You mean as in..."

Kuroo's lids are half closed, like he's replaying the whole thing in his head, lips stretched in a lecherous grin, "Yup."

Oh.

Bokuto feels like he's just been struck by lightning.

"Do you think Akaashi would ever..." Bokuto swallows dryly as he points in the general direction of the three men sitting at the bar.

Kuroo shrugs, "I dunno, your pretty little crush doesn't seem to be that innocent either, from what I've heard."

Bokuto thinks back to that night when their Star Wars marathon had been interrupted and all the other times he’d heard moans coming from the apartment above his. He groans, "Don't remind me."

"But hey, speaking of which, does he keep bringing people home?" Kuroo asks with what sounds like genuine curiosity.

"Mm, not lately, no."

"When was the last time?"

"I don't know, I don't keep track! But he might have brought just one or two more after that night? Why are we discussing this, anyway?"

"Oh, just think it's interesting, is all," Kuroo remarks.

Bokuto glances briefly at Akaashi but is met with the stares of Oikawa and Suga instead, both with soft smiles on their faces. They look away when they notice Bokuto is watching. Weird.

"What is interesting?" Bokuto asks.

"Just how he stopped fucking random dudes when you started hanging out with him. He hasn't brought anyone home in like, what, over a month? Something changed, that's for sure. And believe it or not, I think it's because he might be into you."

Bokuto slumps against the wall and fiddles with the buttons of his shirt, "Don't give me false hopes like that."

Kuroo comes to stand in front of him and puts his hands on his shoulders, "What are you even saying?"

"I don't know, bro. Akaashi has been to South America, has seen all these beautiful places and met incredible people and wears eyeliner and likes to hook up with handsome guys! Like, why would he settle for someone like me? I don't even spike my hair anymore!"

"Oi, let's get one thing straight," Kuroo shakes his shoulders, forcing Bokuto to lift his chin and meet his eyes, "You are the most amazing person I've ever met. You're smart, you love animals, you're handsome, hot as fuck, and your smile could compete with Suga's blinding grin any day. So, please, stop putting yourself down like that, it breaks my fucking heart."

Bokuto feels his mood quickly lift again as Kuroo hugs him tight.

"I love you, bro," he says.

"Love you too. Now stop thinking about that, you're here to have fun, right?"

Right on cue, Daichi shows up with drinks for both of them, Asahi, Noya, Lev and Yaku behind him.

Akaashi still hasn't had time to feel guilty about leaving Bokuto because Sugawara and his boyfriend are all over him. Not in the literal sense, it's just that they seem very interested in his relationship with Bokuto. Akaashi ends up sharing a bit more information than he's proud to admit, mostly because he's already on his second star anise gin with cinnamon sticks and lemon peel of the night. It also helps that Sugawara is the greatest enabler he's ever met.

Thankfully, the conversation ends up drifting away from Bokuto and, almost an hour later, the lights are dimmer, the music is loud and there are several people dancing behind them on the dance floor.

He only gets a moment of peace when a new song comes up and Oikawa perks up, slamming one hand against the counter, "Koushi!", he exclaims, looking at his boyfriend who looks just as excited., amber eyes gleaming.

"Akaashi-san, we're gonna dance. You should go and join Bokuto-san," Sugawara tells him with a wink and just like that, they're gone.

Akaashi sits at the bar for a few more minutes, finishing his gin - he figures he can finish this one, ask for another, and then go look for Bokuto.

His plans are ruined, however, when a man he doesn't know sidles up next to him, way too close for a counter that's not even crowded.

"Hey there, doll," he says, and the first thing that crosses Akaashi’s mind when he lays eyes on him is how he’s always wanted to get a blowjob from someone with a tongue piercing. He's handsome, blond, slick back hair with a darker undercut, ear stretchers, and Akaashi could spy the little silver ball shining on his tongue when he spoke.

"Hello," is all Akaashi answers back.

"Mind if I keep you some company?"

Akaashi just hums while he calmly sips his gin, eyeing the stranger over the rim of the glass.

"I've never seen you around. I'm Terushima. You?"

"Akaashi."

"I've definitely never heard of you. How come?" The man asks him in a husky voice while signalling for the barman, ordering a whisky for himself and another gin for Akaashi.

"I live upstairs from someone here."

"Oh? Who?"

"Bokuto Koutarou," and for some reason Akaashi regrets saying it as soon as the name is out of his mouth. It only gets worse when Terushima makes a face.

"Bokuto, uh? Weird guy."

Akaashi feels sick, his eyebrows furrowing in a frown, "I don't know what you mean."

Okay, Bokuto can be a little weird, but definitely not in the ew, weird kind of way, like this man seems to be implying. He’s a lovable dork.

The man just shrugs as he is handed his whisky, sliding the gin towards Akaashi with a wink and taking a large gulp of his drink before he speaks.

"Doesn't matter," he leans closer to Akaashi, so much he can feel his breath against the side of his face, "Tell me more about yourself, doll."

The man licks his bottom lip and Akaashi's skin burns with how much he's being leered at. And the thing is, had this encounter happened a month ago and had Bokuto never been part of their conversation, Akaashi would've taken this man home, no doubt. But today, Bokuto's booming laughter echoes across the room from where he's probably standing with his group of friends, and the sound is bright, it glows, almost, much like the person it belongs to. Akaashi's stomach does a tiny little somersault when he hears it, making something in his chest clench, and suddenly he doesn't care for pierced tongues and wicked smiles. He wants Bokuto's uninhibited laughter, golden eyes, big, gentle hands and raw honesty that borders on naïve. He wants all of that and more and that's what makes him turn to Terushima to excuse himself.

"I'm sorry, I really have to go."

The man next to him sighs but doesn't look too upset, "See you around," he says, as he raises his glass to Akaashi.

Akaashi just nods, thankful that he'd been let off the hook so easily, grabs his gin, and follows the sound of Bokuto's voice over the music that's gotten too loud. His head swims slightly and he realizes how tipsy he really is as he's lead to the opposite corner of the bar, where Bokuto is indeed standing with a group of friends that got bigger since Sugawara had dragged him away. He walks up to them, lightly nudging Bokuto's shoulder.

His neighbour has had a little too much to drink as well judging by the way he immediately slings an arm around Akaashi's shoulders, pulling him close, - his body is so warm - and almost shouts, "Hey, hey, hey, Akaashi! I thought I'd lost ya!"

"I'm here now, Bokuto-san," he sips his gin.

Bokuto shoots him a grin and keeps his arm around Akaashi's shoulders as he introduces him – loudly - to the people he hasn’t met yet.

After a while, a short guy that goes by the name of Nishinoya drags a very drunk looking Asahi to dance and Bokuto turns to him, squeezing him against his side, "We should dance too! The music's gettin' good!"

The music is definitely not getting good according to Akaashi's standards but Bokuto is way too close to him, his cologne intoxicating in the best way possible, his shirt stretching tight across his chest; he looks so happy, golden eyes reflecting the bar's flashing lights... Akaashi is just too far gone with infatuation and alcohol to say no.

He downs whatever's left of his drink and slams the glass on a nearby table.

"Let's go," he says, grabbing Bokuto by the wrist and leading him to the mass of dancing bodies in the middle of the bar.

Just as he lets go of Bokuto, the song currently playing starts fading out and a new one starts bleeding in, one that he’s actually heard before and likes. [x]

His hips start gyrating slowly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while the long, slow intro to the song plays out. He turns to Bokuto to see how he's doing but he doesn't seem to be putting too much effort in moving at all. In fact, he looks as if he's been hypnotized, like one circular motion of Akaashi's hips had been enough to send him into a daze, his golden gaze eyeing him up and down.

This is almost too easy, Akaashi thinks as he continues to lazily move his hips, hands coming up to slide through dark hair, not breaking eye contact with Bokuto.

The room is spinning slightly, the way Bokuto is staring at him setting his brains reeling, but he's feeling bold and he wants to dance with Bokuto more than anything so he starts inching closer to his neighbour, pleased when Bokuto gingerly meets him halfway. As the last seconds of the intro play out, he turns around and presses his back against Bokuto's chest, who wastes no time placing his hands on Akaashi's waist.

The sway of his hips turns sharper, teasing, as the song starts for good and his hands come to cover Bokuto's on his waist, sliding them down until they're resting just above the hem of his pants. He hears Bokuto gasp when he presses his hips back against him, pulling their bodies flush against one another.

Akaashi feels his blood boiling, arousal dancing along his veins, when Bokuto's grip gets tighter, feeling him pushing his hips forward to meet Akaashi's own movements suggestively. His slim fingers slot between Bokuto's hefty ones, feeling like they'd always belonged there. He lets his head fall back onto Bokuto's shoulder, shuddering when parted lips graze the exposed line of his neck, from the corner of his jaw to just below his Adam's apple, hot breaths against damp skin. Akaashi's mouth runs dry.

He wants Bokuto's hands everywhere on his body so, never stopping the heavy thrusting of their hips, Akaashi lifts their joined hands to place them on his chest and slide them down his sides, painfully slow, being rewarded by Bokuto pressing a searing, open mouthed kiss where his jaw meets his neck.

Akaashi has a fleeting moment of lucidity where he wonders if maybe he's taking it too far, too quickly, since Bokuto is among friends and they're this close to start groping each other, but when he turns his head to the side all he sees is how nobody bats an eye at the show Kuroo is putting on, currently sandwiched between Oikawa and Sugawara, Daichi probably enjoying the sight from the sidelines.

He's brought back to the moment with a gasp as Bokuto gets bolder and sucks and nibbles on his earlobe, sliding their hands a bit further down Akaashi's thighs. His body burns everywhere Bokuto touches and he imagines it's the same for his neighbour, if the chaotic rhythm of his breathing is anything to go by.

The song reaches one of its slower parts and Akaashi uses it to turn around in Bokuto's grasp, chest to chest, hips to hips, one of Bokuto's legs between his thighs, daring to let their eyes meet for the first time since they started dancing together.

He's definitely not ready to face the inferno blazing on Bokuto's golden irises and Akaashi is momentarily reminded of a bird of prey that just spotted its next prey, making him wonder where his sweet, innocent Bokuto went. But he quickly decides this facet of him isn't so bad when the music picks up again and Bokuto keeps up the rotating grind of their hips, his large hands coming to rest a little too low on the small of his back. Akaashi buries his face in the crook of his neck at a particularly sharp movement of their bodies, muffling a curse, feeling Bokuto's quick pulse against his cheek. His hands make their way up his firm chest and arms, broad shoulders and back of his neck, feeling every muscle twitch under his touch, until he cups the back of his head, fingers tangling in soft, grey hair. Bokuto's grip around him gets impossibly tighter at that and Akaashi's head lifts slowly, lips caressing the line of Bokuto's jaw, when a breathy whisper of his name brushes against his ear.

Their eyes meet again and at this point Akaashi can't even hear the music playing, can't see anyone else around them in his drunk haze, can only focus on Bokuto's smell, his half-lidded eyes, his breath ghosting over his own lips, right there. They're so close, it's the easiest thing in the world when they lean into each other, lips brushing for a moment, not in hesitation, but relishing the moment, before their eyes close and they're kissing, hard and fervorous, the swivelling of their hips completely forgotten for the moment.

It's overwhelming, something Akaashi had been craving for a long time without even realizing it; he feels dizzy, the only thing grounding him being Bokuto’s arms around him, squeezing him tight against his body, one of his hands coming up to thread through ebony hair and making him whimper weakly into the kiss. He sucks on Bokuto’s bottom lip almost hard enough to bruise and the whole thing is messy, noses bumping, teeth brushing lips where they aren’t supposed to and way too much saliva. It’s needy and eager and passionate and all the good things, though, and Akaashi wants a thousand more.

When they part, breaths stuttering and panting like crazy, their foreheads rest against each other's and their eyes stay closed for a few seconds because holy shit, they just kissed. Bokuto only opens his when he feels Akaashi's nails lightly scratching the back of his neck. His cheeks are tinged a deep shade of red, much like his lips, shiny and wet and Akaashi is overcome with a wave of want, a burning desire to have all of Bokuto, to have him touch him, to listen to him moan or speak excitedly about something, doesn't matter which, to have him by his side, brightening his days with his sunny smile all the time.

But they're at a bar right now, both a little bit more than tipsy and aroused, and as soon as Bokuto's lips move to speak his name softly again, Akaashi does the next best thing he can manage at the moment and kisses him again.

This time it's more controlled but not any less fervent; they’re still devouring each other. This time when their tongues brush, they let them delve into their mouths, exploring. Bokuto's hand travels up and down Akaashi's arched spine as their inhales become sharp, their hearts thundering against their chests, hips moving again in sync with each other, not so much with the music that finally reaches Akaashi's ears again; it's a different song, one he doesn't care about.

When they part again, Bokuto trails wet kisses along his jaw and down his neck, nosing the loose collar of his white shirt aside to press his lips to where his shoulder and neck meet. Akaashi closes his eyes at the feeling of Bokuto’s lips on hidden skin but suddenly feels too exposed. There are way too many people around them when all he wants is to have Bokuto to himself.

"Bokuto," he breathes, feeling him shiver against him, "Let's get out of here. Let's go home."

Bokuto lifts his head from where it was still buried in Akaashi’s collar and blinks away some of the lustful haze he'd been in before speaking, "Yeah, let's go."

Akaashi pulls his phone from his pocket and quickly texts an Uber. Once he's done, he turns his attention back to Bokuto, who's still holding him firmly against his body. He places his hands on Bokuto's chest, hot and firm and alive under his palms. He feels calmer, some of the intensity from seconds ago dying down.

"The taxi's here in five minutes. Are you feeling okay?" Akaashi asks, his voice somewhat raspy.

Bokuto looks down at him with nothing but warmth in his eyes, "I'm good," he answers as he squeezes his middle, “I’m great.”

They stumble backwards to the edge of the dancing crowd, never looking away from each other. It’s a wonder Akaashi doesn’t trip and fall on his ass with the way they’re both still unstable as hell.

"Don't you want to say goodbye to your friends?" He asks.

Bokuto looks behind himself and spots Kuroo among the crowd, leaning heavily against Oikawa and whistling loudly at Daichi, who's currently dealing with Sugawara grinding his ass all over his junk.

"They look busy,” he scoffs, “It's okay if we leave. They won't be mad." He turns to face Akaashi again, words coming out in a light slur, “I have better things to look at.” He leans down to brush their noses together in an eskimo kiss and the tenderness of his words and the gesture make their heartbeats slow to a comfortable pace that is not the feverish, overpowering rhythm they had going on.

"You're so beautiful, Akaashi," he adds before pressing a kiss against his cheekbone, his thumbs drawing soothing little circles on Akaashi's back.

Akaashi feels some blood rising up to his cheeks, caught off guard by this side of Bokuto – though, in hindsight, it’s something he should have anticipated since Bokuto looks like nothing but a big, affectionate ball of fluff -, and lets him drag his lips to meet his own in a gentle kiss.

"Let's go get our coats," he says, immediately missing the warmth of Bokuto's body against his when they part from their embrace, though their hands stay linked.

The cold night air sobers them up a little when they exit the bar, coats and jackets wrapped tight around their bodies, Akaashi burying his nose in his scarf. Their steps are still a little wobbly when they walk to the car already waiting for them and once they're inside and greeted the driver, Akaashi sidles up to Bokuto until they're touching from shoulder to knee, little sparks shooting up and down his body when Bokuto rests one of his hands on his thigh, fingers grazing the inner part of his leg. Akaashi returns the gesture.

The drive to their building is fast and soon they find themselves standing in front of Bokuto's door. The mood is far from being dead – what with the way they kept squeezing each other’s thighs in the car and all -, but now they don't have loud music and a smothering crowd around them, only silence, and the space between them is harder to close. But there's still a fire burning inside Akaashi, one that won't go away that easily, and while Bokuto is visibly coming down from the high he'd been in, his eyes are still alight with desire too.

They both step forward at the same time, helplessly caught in each other’s orbits, and in less than a second, Bokuto has Akaashi's face between his hands and they're kissing, nothing like their last kiss and much more like the first; it's frantic, bold, deep to the point neither of them know whose air they're breathing.

When Bokuto takes too long to pull his keys out of his jacket, Akaashi yanks him up the stairs by the arm, his own keys already out.

They stagger inside his apartment and Akaashi closes the door by pushing Bokuto up against it, kissing him hungrily while they get rid of their shoes. A low moan slips past his lips when Bokuto pulls them flush against each other by his hips and he can feel Bokuto's growing erection against his own. He grinds them together, more than welcome friction making them both gasp, before deciding that there are way too many layers of clothes between them. He pushes Bokuto off of the door, guides him in the direction of his bedroom, taking off his coat and scarf in the meantime. He really can't get enough of Bokuto's mouth so he kisses him again, licks into his mouth and bites his lips, and doesn’t let go as he easily slips Bokuto’s jacket off of his shoulders when they enter his bedroom, hands sliding across his chest and toned arms.

Bokuto starts unbuttoning Akaashi's shirt, his mouth leaving Akaashi’s red, wet lips to trail hot kisses down his neck and every new expanse of exposed skin until the shirt hangs from Akaashi's shoulders.

Akaashi makes quick work of Bokuto's shirt too, lets it fall to the ground, and marvels at the sight of his bared torso in the yellow-ish light coming from the window, tan skin, muscles tensing and relaxing in time with his heavy breathing. He can't resist running his palms over his abs and pecs, smooth skin hot, so hot under his touch. Bokuto's cheeks are flushed when Akaashi leans up and kisses him breathless again, stumbling back the rest of the way to his bed.

"Watch your head," Akaashi warns, because Bokuto has a history of occasionally hitting his head against the slanted ceiling of his living room and his bedroom is no different.

The back of Bokuto's legs hit the edge of the bed and he plops down, immediately taking advantage of the height difference to run his hands up Akaashi's thighs, one of them continuing up his stomach and chest and the other coming to palm Akaashi's dick through his pants, coaxing a moan out of him. Akaashi bites his lip at the feeling, almost drawing blood when his nipple is pinched and Bokuto noses the fine trail of black hair above the hem of his pants.

But a blowjob is not what he's looking for tonight, he's got something better in mind, so he sinks his hand in Bokuto's silver hair and nudges him away. His golden gaze is cloudy with lust when he looks up, tongue licking his lower lip and Akaashi feels a new wave of arousal coming over him, cock twitching where it's still trapped inside his pants.

"Take off your pants and scoot over," Akaashi says, nodding to the head of the bed.

Bokuto quickly complies, his pants flying half way across the room while Akaashi strips out of his own too. He doesn't miss the way Bokuto swallows as he eyes the bulge in Akaashi's boxers, never taking his eyes off of it while crawling backwards on the bed until he's sitting against the headboard. Akaashi follows suit, except he crawls on all fours towards Bokuto, clad in only his white shirt - that's doing a poor job of covering any part of his body other than his wrists, where it's still stuck - and boxers.

Bokuto's breath hitches when Akaashi slings a long leg over his lap, straddling his thighs, and Akaashi bites back a moan when he feels one of Bokuto's warm hands slip unceremoniously under his underwear, kneading his ass and pulling their crotches together, while the other comes up to thread through his hair.

A whimper does roll past Akaash’s lips when Bokuto pulls the strands between his fingers and their dicks rub against each other, the arch of their erections pressing against their boxers, little stains showing on the fabric where their tips leak an ever increasing amount of precome.

Bokuto’s teeth sink into the flesh of his neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark and a lingering sting, and then kisses the little indents on Akaashi’s fair skin one, two, three times. The combined sensations make Akaashi go weak at the knees.

When they start rocking their clothed lengths together, Akaashi busies himself with dragging his hands up and down Bokuto’s chest, taking one nipple between his fingers and squeezing, making Bokuto gasp against his neck. He sucks a little bruise just below the corner of Bokuto’s jaw, licking and kissing when it blooms a pretty shade of red.

Bokuto’s hand continues groping his ass cheek, dick twitching with every movement of Akaashi's hips, breaths coming in increasingly faster. The slow drag of their cocks is driving them both crazy, making them crave more contact, more movement, more, more.

Bokuto looks so handsome when he lets his head fall back against the headboard with a quiet moan parting his lips, a pretty blush tinting his chest, cheeks and tips of his ears, golden eyes shiny and focused on Akaashi like he’s the only thing that matters in a fifty-kilometer radius. Akaashi figures he's getting close when his eyes flutter shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

Akaashi chooses that moment to stop the thrusting of his hips, though, earning an harassed whine from Bokuto, and reaches for the lube on his bedside table.

Bokuto eyes him questioningly as he places the small bottle on a pillow next to them, but whatever questions he might have had are pushed to the back of his mind when Akaashi reaches between their bodies and hooks a finger into the waistband of Bokuto’s boxers. He looks up at Bokuto for permission, who swallows dryly but moves one of his hands to wrap around Akaashi’s wrist. He pulls just enough that Akaashi’s finger drags the fabric down his crotch and his erection springs free, red and glistening with precome.

Such a tempting sight, Akaashi thinks.

Bokuto continues to guide Akaashi’s hand to take hold of his dick and then lets go of the thin wrist, head tilting back against the headboard with a ragged sigh when Akaashi begins stroking him with a lazy grip, thumb grazing the sensitive tip.

Akaashi kisses his parted lips long and hard, tongue sliding in warm and wet.
His palms caress Bokuto’s cheek before dipping down and taking hold of his own cock, freeing it from the prison that are his boxer briefs. He whimpers against Bokuto's mouth when cold air hits delicate skin and Bokuto squeezes his thigh almost painfully when their tips bump together. They're both dripping, aching with need.

"Bokuto," Akaashi is breathless when he whispers, lightheaded with desire and alcohol, "Put your hands on me,” he licks Bokuto’s bottom lip, “Please.”

Bokuto's pupils are blown impossibly wide when he answers, the first words he's spoken since they stepped out of the cab.

"O-okay. Anything you want, Akaashi."

Shuddering at his name, Akaashi captures one of Bokuto's hands and reaches for the lube again, squirting some of the clear liquid onto Bokuto's outstretched palm and guiding his hand to wrap around their lengths.

They're both gasping for air, foreheads touching, while they both look down at their joined cocks, Bokuto's big hand encircling them easily between his fingers and thumb. Akaashi’s dick has never looked so good in someone else's hands.

Bokuto takes his time spreading the lube around, alternating between stroking his own length and taking special attention to Akaashi’s cock, teasing the slit and every sensitive little spot with circular little motions that drive Akaashi insane, tiny sounds spilling past his lips.

He’s closer than he'd like to admit. The sight of Bokuto's hand touching his dick is almost enough to send him over the edge, and when his fingers come to wrap around their cocks again, heated flesh against equally warm skin, and starts stroking them, movements slick and easy in time with their quick breaths, Akaashi has to do something to stop his embarrassing, increasingly loud moans from coming - why is Bokuto so quiet, damn. After a nanosecond of considering his options, he does the one thing he’s been wanting to do for a long time; he catches Bokuto's free hand and takes his middle and ring finger into his mouth, successfully muting his sounds.

Bokuto watches, entranced, as Akaashi sucks and swirls his tongue between the two fingers, thrusting them in and out of his lips, hollowing his cheeks, and flicking his tongue against the webbing of Bokuto's fingers. Akaashi closes his eyes and marvels at the feeling when Bokuto starts pressing against his tongue of his own accord, prodding and exploring, letting Akaashi’s warm tongue curl around his knuckles.

Akaashi can feel his orgasm rapidly pooling low in his stomach, his breaths ragged and damp around the fingers in his mouth. He's forced to pull the two digits out, to catch his breath, when he becomes hyper aware of the feeling of Bokuto’s rough hand gliding up and down his cock with fast, little flicks of his wrist, their lengths sliding together, veins pulsing, skin burning with arousal.

Akaashi’s heartbeat is racing, thundering against his ribcage, when he presses his face against Bokuto’s shoulder as his orgasm builds and builds and builds until suddenly it’s too much. He curses under his breath and comes hard with a low moan of Bokuto's name, hips bucking up into his tight grip, waves of pleasure violently coursing through his body, making him shudder and dig his fingers into Bokuto's skin.

Bokuto keeps pumping his fist, riding out Akaashi's orgasm and reaching his own peak with a gasp and a broken sigh of Aka...aashi..., nose buried in dark curls.

Akaashi feels the white-hot rush of his orgasm recede to leave him teetering on the edge of oversensitivity, feeling every twitch of Bokuto’s cock, every throb of muscle as he spills the remaining of his seed, and his nails press harder against Bokuto’s shoulders.

He can't help but notice that Bokuto's climaxing sounds are extremely quiet for someone who has trouble staying silent for more than five minutes most days. It’s weird to be the noisy one for once and he tells himself he'll try to encourage more nice little sounds out of him next time, because next time sounds great if Bokuto is involved.

They don't move for a good few seconds, clinging to each other, boneless and shivering, chests heaving, warm, irregular puffs of air against cooling skin.
Bokuto's thumb draws little circles against Akaashi's hipbone, his other hand soiled with lube and obnoxious amounts of come resting limply by his side. Akaashi runs his shaking hands down Bokuto’s chest and stomach, and then slowly up and down his sides, in a way he hopes is comforting, soothing.

When he finally lifts his head and nudges Bokuto's cheek so their eyes meet, Bokuto looks like he's close to falling asleep, his pupils back to a normal size and fond golden irises looking up at him. Akaashi slides his hands through silver strands of hair, gently, and presses a kiss against Bokuto's temple.

"'m gonna go get a towel. Don't fall asleep," he says, tucking their soft dicks inside their boxers and disentangling himself from the mess of limbs and sheets his bed has become.

He cleans himself up in the bathroom with a warm wet towel and throws his dirty boxers into the laundry basket. Wobbling back into the bedroom, he slips into clean underwear and grabs some for Bokuto as well.

When he turns to face the bed, Bokuto is lying on his side, looking at him through half closed eyes. Akaashi walks up to him and kneels by the bed to clean his stomach with the wet towel, taking special attention to his hand. Bokuto hums warmly, like a sleepy child.

The sound turns into a whine when Akaashi hands him the clean underwear, though.

"Put these on," he says.

"Too much work," Bokuto grouses.

"You're going to be all sticky when you wake up. You'll thank me in the morning."

Bokuto grumbles some more, "I know, I know," and it seems to take all of the energy left in his body to slide out of his dirty underwear and put on the new pair.

When he's done, he plops back on the bed and pats the space next to him with a dopey smile, inviting Akaashi into his own bed.

Akaashi rolls his eyes but doesn't waste another second before he finally gets rid of his shirt and slithers under the covers, Bokuto instantly snuggling up to him with a contented sigh.

They're asleep not even three minutes later.

Akaashi wakes up the next morning to the blessed absence of a hangover and the pitter-patter of light rain on the roof. It feels like the best thing in the world when he's wrapped in a cocoon of soft blankets, the warmth of Bokuto's body next to him.

Except, when he shifts his legs, there's no body next to him. The warmth lingers but the space beside him is empty when his eyes flutter open.

Akaashi's eyebrows furrow and he doesn't move as he tries to recall exactly what happened last night. It's only when he hears a tiny sniff, almost drowned out by the spatter of raindrops, that he looks down at the foot of the bed.

Bokuto is sitting there, still in Akaashi's boxers, slumping with his elbows propped on his knees and face hidden in his hands. He looks dejected. Akaashi's eyebrows only furrow further.

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, remembering that he totally forgot to remove his make up last night when his fingers come back with black smudges. He figures there are worse ways to wake up other than with smeared eyeliner.

When he finally sits up in bed, Bokuto looks at him, startled by the movement. His eyes and cheeks are pink, not from crying, Akaashi hopes, but probably from being rubbed so much, his lips bitten red too.

He looks very upset when their eyes meet and his voice is scratchy when he speaks, "You're up."

Akaashi crawls across the bed to kneel beside him.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his own voice a bit raspy.

"N-nothing," Bokuto answers as he hides his face in his hands again.

Akaashi almost rolls his eyes at that, "Well, something is definitely not right," he pauses, "Is this about last night?"

He gets an affirmative answer when Bokuto doesn't speak and only sniffs again so he decides to do what he always does when Bokuto gets like this - he touches him. Except today it's not a light pet on the head or their shoulders brushing, like it always has been. Today, he gets Bokuto's arms out of the way and easily wriggles his way into his lap, thighs coming to wrap around his waist.

Bokuto swallows as Akaashi lifts his chin with his pointer finger, dark and golden gazes meeting.

"If this is about us," Akaashi starts, "You need to tell me what's bothering you."

Bokuto presses his lips into a thin line, eyes jittery.

"Bokuto, come on."

He swallows again but his lips part, "I just think... Last night was a mistake."

Akaashi inspects his face carefully, refusing to let the dread he feels coming from sinking like a stone in his stomach.

"And why is that?" he asks.

Bokuto's eyes look away from Akaashi, to somewhere over his shoulder, "I feel like I rushed things."

Akaashi sighs softly. No reason for alarm.

"Well, if anything, we both rushed things. And I'm sorry you feel that way, because I don't agree with you at all. Sex is just sex."

Bokuto's expression becomes flustered and sad at the same time, the tips of his ears turning red, "But I wanted to, like, take you on dates and s-stuff. Yesterday I wanted you to meet my friends! And… and have fun. And maybe ask you out after that… I don't want you to think I invited you to the party just to get you in bed!"

A fierce blush takes over his face and chest when he's done with his outburst, his voice getting progressively quieter, and Akaashi can't help the hands that lift up to his face and squeeze his flushed cheeks.

"You know, your pining isn't exactly the most subtle," he says, watching as Bokuto's cheeks turn even redder, "So I never really thought about it that way. You can still do all of the things you wanna do. I want you to take me on dates."

"You do?" Bokuto turns starry-eyed, speaking through squished lips.

Akaashi hums, "Mhm, because I really like you," he admits softly as he brushes the tips of their noses together, "I didn't put up with you for two months just to get in your pants. Plus, there are still plenty of things we could do in bed." He whispers the last part and Bokuto looks like he's about to spontaneously combust.

He sputters instead, and ducks his head down when Akaashi releases his face from between his hands with a gentle smile. Bokuto burns under him, forehead hot where it comes to rest on Akaashi's shoulder. He gives him some time to let his blush subside, scraping his nails absentmindedly through his scalp, messy hair tickling his palm – Bokuto has the most adorable bed hair, silver strands sticking up in every possible direction, making him look like a cuddly baby owl. A light drizzle continues to fall outside, filling the room with its peaceful patter, matching the soft, clear light coming through the window.

Bokuto's arms move to wrap around his middle, pulling their bodies together in a hug. His eyes are no longer red but there are still traces of a blush on his cheeks when they look at each other, his forehead resting against Akaashi's.

"I really like you too, Akaashi."

And even if Akaashi has known that for weeks, it’s always good to hear it. It feels realer, more tangible now.

"Good," he whispers, continuing to trail his fingers through Bokuto's hair and tilting his head down to press a delicate kiss against his lips. Bokuto's warm palms on his back remind Akaashi of his current state of undress, though, and as much as he's enjoying the moment, the room is actually a bit chilly.

"It's still early. Let’s get in bed again, okay?"

Bokuto nods and they both get under the blankets again, Akaashi's face nuzzling Bokuto's warm neck and Bokuto's arms around his shoulders.

A few peaceful minutes pass before Bokuto speaks up again, quiet, subsided.

"H-hey, Akaashi, you know I could hear you every time you, y'know, brought someone home..."

Akaashi hums, "I know. Sorry about that."

"It's okay, it was only like, three or four times. And then you stopped."

"Kinda had my eyes set on someone," he mumbles, squeezing Bokuto's side when he feels his body temperature rise again. It's cute how Bokuto blushes so easily.

He answers with a lame and flustered o-okay and they rest in comfortable silence after that, listening to the rain and the sound of their quiet breathing, revelling in the proximity of their bodies. Akaashi can feel Bokuto’s heartbeat under his palm where it rests flat against his chest, steady, soothing palpitations that make his own chest flutter with contentment.

That is, until Bokuto jolts in place.

"Wait, does this mean we're dating now?" He asks, pulling away from Akaashi to look him in the eye.

Akaashi sighs, "Yes, Bokuto, it does."

Bokuto squeals happily, no traces of his previous gloominess left in his voice, and slings one leg around Akaashi's hips, pulling him impossibly closer to his body.

There's a smile on Akaashi's lips when he closes his eyes and falls asleep again.

It’s mid-afternoon and still raining when they wake up again.

They lounge in bed, warm and cozy, and Bokuto peppers an approximate amount of a hundred kisses across Akaashi’s face and neck and chest in the space of sixty minutes.

Akaashi melts under the attention.

Three years later

“Keiji! Keiji! Keiji, wake up!”

Akaashi wakes up to the sound of his boyfriend’s enthusiastic cries of his name and a light breeze grazing his bare toes. When he doesn’t move, Bokuto buries his face in his cheek and nuzzles him aggressively.

“Keiji, you gotta see this, wake up!”

He finally groans and cracks one eye open, shooting Bokuto the dirtiest look he can manage when half of his brain is still asleep.

Bokuto doesn’t seem fazed by it at all, his face lightning up with Akaashi’s favourite smile instead. He points to somewhere in front of him, “Look at the sunrise, Keiji!”

The sunrise. Akaashi groans louder. What did he do to deserve this.

Despite everything, he stretches lazily, rubs blearily at his eyes and sits up on their makeshift bed on the back of their van, enough that he can rest his head on Bokuto’s shoulder, his hand resting gently on his hipbone. At their feet, the van’s doors are open wide, letting in the chilly morning air and the very first rays of sunshine, the pale blue sky and the ocean stretching in front of them painted in soft shades of pink. It is beautiful, even if he has to blink his eyes several times to adjust to the clarity.

They’ve been travelling the northern coast of the African continent for one week now, with two more to go. For the past three years, they’ve taken little trips to several places around the globe, having explored some of southern Europe by train, India, Bangladesh, Nepal and Pakistan.

It had been during their travels in southern Europe, in the Spanish city of Granada, that they’d met a lovely old lady from Marrakesh, Morocco, who had told them wonders about her family and country. They were easily converted by her honeyed words and that’s how, two years later, they find themselves on the longest trip they’ve ever been on since they got together. It wasn’t easy, since they both have jobs they can’t abandon, but somehow they’d managed. And sure, the old lady’s stories had been a little sugar-coated but they were well aware of what they were getting themselves into when they started planning the trip.

They’d started in Marrakesh, where they got their van, fully equipped, and a new mattress, in what was probably the best bargain of their lives, and then travelled north until they reached the coast, never straying too far from the ocean while travelling east.

Yesterday they’d stayed at Tanger and by late afternoon they were driving down the coast, mountains on their right side, ocean on their left. They’d ended up stopping at a little secluded beach for the night, the crashing waves the only sound reaching their ears and a million stars twinkling above their heads.

Now, the waves are still crashing and they watch as the sun rises from the Mediterranean sea, the sky gets brighter and the water turns clearer.

Bokuto squeezes Akaashi’s side, “Hey, Keiji.”

Akaashi is half asleep again as he mumbles, “Mmmm,” though what he hears next definitely wakes him up.

“Will you marry me someday?”

His eyes shoot open and he lifts his head to look at Bokuto.

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Well, I am, but not really! I mean, not… not right now. I want to know if you’d like to get married to me someday. It can be two or twenty years from now.”

Akaashi relaxes, pressing a quick, sloppy kiss to the corner of Bokuto’s mouth, and returns to nuzzling his shoulder.

“Mm, that’d be nice.”

He can feel Bokuto’s heartbeat picking up with excitement.

“Really?”

“Yes, Koutarou. Really.”

“Oh man, I can’t wait until we’re an old married couple,” he sighs dreamily.

Akaashi frowns at the sunrise, “Why would you ever be looking forward to that?”

Bokuto shrugs the shoulder that’s not being weighed down by Akaashi’s head, “I dunno, growing old with you sounds like the best idea I’ve had in a while.”

Akaashi feels his cheeks flushing pink as he rolls his eyes.

They continue to watch the sunrise playing out in front of their bare toes until Akaashi nudges Bokuto’s leg after a while, successfully recapturing his attention. Bokuto makes a questioning noise.

“You have no idea what day it is today, do you?” Akaashi asks, amused.

“Mm, uh, the eighteenth?” Akaashi lifts an eyebrow, “Nineteenth already?”

Bokuto always, always loses track of time every time they travel. It’s ridiculous.

Akaashi flicks his forehead, “It’s the twentieth, idiot.”

“Ooooh, it’s my birthday!” Bokuto wiggles excitedly and Akaashi chuckles lowly, draping himself over his boyfriend, letting his lips brush against his smile as he speaks.

“Happy birthday, Kou.”

Bokuto purrs as they kiss softly, lips and tongues moving around in a lazy kiss because today they have no jobs waiting for them, no responsibilities, no set destination. Today it’s just the two of them, detached from the rest of the world, and the African coast stretching past their toes.

“Love you,” Bokuto mumbles between kisses, “So much.”

“Love you too,” Akaashi says, lips curving in the most tender of smiles.

The sun is high up in the sky when they crawl out of the van for the first time that day.