Archive of Our Own ^beta

Konoha was the one to recommend the place.

“Take 8th street. Down the alley, to the right of the 24-hour mechanic. On the 17th floor of the repurposed district building. Three doors down, still on the right. Knock twice... quietly. ” he instructed as he shoved an ugly, canvas poncho over his head “I know this sort of thing is tough for you. BUT, Bokuto, I need you to do your best to look as inconspicuous as possible. ”

Sarukui and Washio wheel in and hose down his arm. Blood and dirt rolling away to reveal the sleek silver of his newly detached armed. “Everything is still intact, so just make sure you’re not caught on your way.”

“Won’t it look weird if I’m carrying my own arm around?” Bokuto asked, while he waved his arm around “I don’t know what to tell the police. ”

“You’re not gonna talk to the police because you’re going to be careful and NOT get caught on your way to the doc.”

Konoha sharply pulls the hood of Bokuto’s poncho over his head.

“Well, Yeah, but what if? What if one of them is really nice, and I have to tell him what happened because they’re nice and not an asshole. ”
The wall behind him clatters, and Sarukui eyes the chunks of concrete flying from underneath Bokuto’s haphazardly tossed detached limb.

“...... Komi, drive him. Wait. Komi can you drive? ”

Less recommended and more told him to go in the first place. It turns out that Komi can drive, but Bokuto walked anyway. For the sake of his friend’s cars.

Given enough time, Bokuto was sure that he could re-attach his own arm. He’d told Komi as much before he left. Komi had gotten a kick out of that, he was still laughing about when he left. Sarukui and Konoha promptly listed no less than 10 reasons as to why Bokuto shouldn’t be allowed to wire a light bulb, let alone his own neural circuits.

He’s still a little miffed about it when he’s rounding the corner to the old district building. Compared to the surrounding area, the old building is nice and well kept. Bright lights bounce off of the thick smog choking the city and footsteps are barely muffled by the revs of engines and the honks of car horns. When this building was first erected, it was advertised as a revival project. The governor had proudly announced that this would revitalize the area and be a beacon of “new. ” He remembers, his mother had hummed that gentle hum she does when Bokuto told her he finished his homework or that he definitely had paid attention during class. His father had simply scoffed and went back to his breakfast. His father deriding something so openly was so rare and foreign to Bokuto that he still remembers it to this day. Looking around at the dilapidated stores and unswept streets, he understands why his father had scoffed and why the district headquarters was moved a couple of years after.


Bokuto acquiesces. The building is huge, towering meters over some of the biggest buildings in the vicinity. As he shifts to pull his cloak tighter, he silently watches as colorful advertisements are projected from every floor. One for sleek new androids with "a more human appeal", surprising in this part of town and another for a fancy new rice cooker with a built-in bread maker. One more for the den of escorts around the corner. He goes forward, bombarded with fliers, men and women pushing advertisements for the legal shops and maybe perhaps less than legal betting dens. He nods politely, flashing smiles and taking fliers with his teeth and placing them in the hands of the unsuspecting passerby. Until he finally reaches the door of the old district building. It slides open and an old model android croaks out warm greetings with a staticky voice from behind the receptionist's desk beckoning him closer.

The android looks less human and more robot, which surprises him a bit. Bits of their skin is peeling and the metal endoskeleton peeks through the neat white of their button-down. Bokuto should have expected that for the area. The district would never have left a piece so expensive behind in the move. In truth, this android might be the nicest looking person he’s seen on his walk over. Even if their skin is made out of that weird silicone the big companies were obsessed with when his parents were young.

Bokuto comes to a stop in front of the sleek black desk in the middle of the room. The receptionist sits, back straight and fingers placed neatly on the keyboard in front of them. The reception area has cool white lighting and all grey everything. The walls, the light fixtures, the uniform the android is wearing, down to the hair on Bokuto's head. All smooth, all grey, all shiny. He’s unsure why he thought such a big building would have a small greeting area, but it takes him by surprise none the less.

“How can I be of assistance?”

A blue light blips peacefully on the temple of the receptionist, they wait patiently.

“Oh!” Bokuto shifts the weight of his broken arm a little further up as he leans in a little too close, “Elevator, please! ”

An eerie sense of deja-vu overcomes him as he watches the receptionist take a little too long to process his request. A little mechanically, they smile.

“Do you need assistance in finding a business?”

Bokuto's forehead crinkles.

“No, I just gotta go up.”

Technically, he didn’t need assistance finding a business, but he’d forgotten to ask what this doctor looked like and how good are they at their job.

The receptionist takes another moment, stiffly blinking and giving him one last soft smile and points him over to two fancy black metal doors. Their movements are jerky and endearing.

“The elevators are to your left. Please enjoy your time in the building. Each business operates independently. Feel free to return to the reception area if you need directions. ”

Bokuto smiles and heads to the elevator. The tile on the floor gives a satisfying click under his shoes, the weight plate in front of the elevator blends in well with it. A cute little hologram bird appears from the projector on the floor.

“Good evening, dear customer! We regret to inform you that this elevator is not equipped for your weight class. If you have packages, please make extra trips. The receptionist will gladly hold your packages! If you are an augmented individual, we have stairs on the right to accommodate you! ”

He opens his mouth to argue, but arguments with holograms go nowhere. He learned this early on when he attempted it as a child. So he wrinkles his nose and resigns himself to walking all 17 flights of stairs. It’s not a big deal, but the elevator is just better. He’s not all metal, bits of his body still ache from the fights earlier. He contemplates leaving the arm, but then what's the point.

Bokuto took the stairs, all 17 flights. Chanting Konoha’s directions like a mantra and even then he had to call for a confirmation.

“There’s a sign, look for the sign!” Konoha whispered hurriedly into the phone.

Now he’s here , standing outside of a sleek, black door in an otherwise dingy, dirty, poorly lit hallway.

Apparently, only the lobby is maintained and doctors can set up practices anywhere these days.

There’s a neon sign in a fancy script flashing above the doorway that reads “Dr. Lop’s Urgent Care”, it even has a cute bunny symbol next to it. If there was any doubt in his mind that this might be the wrong place, it’s definitely gone now. He knocks twice, with his head , since both of his arms are preoccupied, as quietly as he possibly can.

The door slides open with a woosh and to his great surprise no one is there to greet him. Suspicious. Bokuto steps inside anyway. The inside of Dr. Lop’s office is spotless, for the most part. It smells good, like potpourri and rice and gentle samba plays in the background. Three worn, red leather chairs are lined up against the wall to his right and the desk to his left is messy in a controlled chaos sort of way. It’s completely unlike every other doctor’s office in this ward. Konoha may have sent him to a very fancy chop shop.

“Lights, please.” Bokuto's head snaps toward the voice. A speaker chitters an upbeat tune and Bokuto remembers someone else is supposed to be here as well.

The room is cut in two by a privacy curtain. Overhead lights blind him momentarily. It's all white, except for the chairs, as one would expect in a doctors office albeit a bit more welcoming. He zeroes in on the silhouette of a person, hopefully, the doctor. And a chair, hopefully not where the doctor chops people up for parts. The figure is tall, helped by what looks like the pair of stilettos and shaped like a box. That's all Bokuto can register before a well-manicured hand begins pulling back the curtain.

A man in a bunny costume slowly pulls back the curtain and for a moment it feels as if everything has come to a standstill. They hold each other's gaze. This man , Dr. Lop presumedly, stares at him, face impassive and bags compounding underneath his eyes .

Bokuto tries to open his mouth to ask him if he’ll be okay, he looks like he’s going to pass out any minute, but nothing comes. Weird, he’s never been at a loss for words. Lop might be a witch doctor.

“Good evening, Bokuto-san.” he says, softly, eyeing Bokuto’s golden eyes “You can hang your poncho on the coat rack behind you. All though it's not raining.”

As the doctor slowly walks back the privacy curtain, Bokuto notices two things. One, the doctor has clearly mastered walking in his big, old shoes. He’s graceful, his legs are long and stretch over the distance. Every click of his heel over the tile sends Bokuto into a deeper and deeper trance-like state. It sounds nicer than he thought it would. And two, he only has one functional arm to his name.

Bokuto unceremoniously drops his torn-off arm to the floor, he thinks better of it after he’s done it. A quick glance to Doctor Lop says he’s unphased. He barely reacts outside of turning his tired eyes to the arm on the floor. He’s so unphased that Bokuto is honestly more than a little concerned for him. He takes off his poncho and tosses it on to the leather chairs next to him.

“Are you the doctor?”

The doctor looks down at his white coat.

“No. I don’t think so. ” he says, cooly, gently fluttering his coat from his pockets.

“Oh.”

The silence stretches on and Bokuto watches as Mister Not-Doctor Lop walks over to a rolling chair. His legs are long, and the heels he’s in make them look even longer. The chair’s wheels break the silence, but he strains to hear the gentle clack of his red heels on the tile. The soft click and squeaky shuffle of wheels over tile fill Bokuto’s ears. Mister Not-Doctor Lop looks like he hasn’t slept in days. The overhead lights wash out his already pale skin and the-attempted-nap-raggled black of his hair. He’d almost look sickly if it weren’t for the lean muscle hidden beneath his costume. His black tights do well hiding at the strength of his legs, not so well hiding his exhaustion. The dark circles under his eyes say he hasn’t slept in a while, and the hard-line of his mouth says that he wishes Bokuto had never come. Bokuto might have obliged him if it weren’t for his curiosity. He had a lot of questions, starting with the bunny costume. Dark red and cinched tight at the waist, setting a tighter waistline on a fairly lean looking man. His cuffs and collar are starched, ironed, and bleached white and he even has a little ribbon pinned to his waist. Just like you see in all the old pictures 

All-in-all a very professional looking Bunny Bop, especially for someone who looks five minutes away from passing out.

“Why don’t you have a seat anyway, Bokuto-san, and please put your arm on this table.” Lop pats a sturdy-looking metal table near the examination chair.
 
 Konoha obviously trusts this man’s work if he sent him here, but he can’t help but ask. 

“It’s real nice in here, Doc!” Bokuto says, bending down to pick up his arm “But have you caught a nap yet?”

Doctor Lop plops down into his seat, preparing screwdrivers and scalpels for his repair.

“Here and there.” 

“Oh, I see! You should get some sleep! I take a nap every day, maybe twice a day!” Bokuto says, carefully placing his arm on the table next to the examination chair. “You just seem a little tired is all. A lotta tired, really! It's bad for your health. You should know that!”

Mister Maybe Doctor Lop watches Bokuto set himself in the examination chair. The chair groans underneath him.

“No need to worry.” Doctor Lop reassures him monotonously, pulling on a pair of gloves.

“Well, I’m not worried about me. I think I could do this in my sleep if I tried hard enough, but you look like you’re gonna pass out any second now.” 
"Would you like me to refer you to another doctor?" Mister Lop asks, looking up from the remote "If you think my work will be poor or if you're uncomfortable, it might be for the best."

Unconfirmed-Doctor Lop sounds serious and if he's in enough of a right mind to say that. Then Bokuto will trust him with this. Plus who's gonna put his arm back on this late at night? And he's not sure if he can make it up another 17 flight of stairs.
"I believe in you, doc!"

Doctor Lop nods. The remote from earlier finally coming into play. All his technology looks new. The table holding his arm quietly rolls around the back of his chair, wheeling its way up to his left side.

“Do you like music? Bokuto-san.” Doctor Lop tacks on his name at the end like an afterthought. He rolls himself closer to the gap between Bokuto and his missing arm. He takes a pair of eyeglasses from his pocket and inspects the torn wires and muscle. “We can change the music if that will make you more comfortable.”

 For a moment he considers taking him up on the offer, but not-confirmed-Doctor Lop’s office is cozy. It’s more like a spa and less like a mechanic’s dirty garage. The scent of lavender and general cleanliness of his surroundings is refreshing. It's good to be treated with care. The wall to his left is made up of bay windows, from the examination chair alone he can see the other offices, cars zooming by the windows, drones patrolling, a small orgy in the building next to theirs. Even changing the tune playing in the background feels like it’ll ruin a carefully curated once in a lifetime experience.

“No! It’s too nice to change, Doc. I’ll mess it all up!” 

Perhaps-Possibly-Doctor Mister Lop does his best to conceal his wince, giving a curt nod before he begins inspecting the frayed wires, corded muscles at Bokuto’s shoulder. Bokuto watches a serious look come over the doctor as his eyebrows fold in on each. He begins picking out loose bits of metal from Bokuto’s arm with forceps.

“Doctor?”

The doctor hums his acknowledgment.

“Am I gonna die?”

He stops for a moment to look at Bokuto, face unchanged, he doesn’t even crack a smile. 

“That's entirely up to you, Bokuto-san.” he says before quietly going back to picking out the refuse in  Bokuto’s mutilated arm.

Bokuto pouts.

“How come you didn’t laugh? It was funny!”

“Of course.” The doctor moves to strap down Bokuto’s arm to the table.

“It was! You’re just hard to please!” 

That does get a quickly concealed chuckle out of Doctor Lop.

The silence settles back and Maybe-Probably-Most-likely-Doctor Lop rolls away to a cabinet full of medical supplies.

“Doc,” Bokuto calls long and cartoonishly drawn out, “How’d you know my name?” 

“Konoha called and told me to expect you.” 

He deflates, he is a household name in the underground fighting scene, surely alleged Doctor Lop has seen him brawl once or twice if he knows Konoha well enough to be taking patients upon request. The click of the doctor’s heel brings him back to attention.

“You’ve seen me for sure! At the arena? You’ve seen me in action before! Everyone has. Don’t try to hide it!”

“Maybe, once or twice.” Lop rolls over to Bokuto with an arm full of grease, oil, and dissolving stitches. "I don't frequent Konoha's...establishment." 

His eyes glitter and suddenly he’s caught his second wind. Bokuto nods happily.

“It's fine! I get it! You seem like a squeamish guy." Bokuto watches Mister Lop lean over his shoulder, plucking and salvaging what he can from the wiring, cutting ragged bits quietly and precisely. His lab coat covers him. He’s pale, but the red of his costume brings some color back into his nape. He’s very warm and pressed close to his side. His voice drops and he asks seriously "Did he tell you how I lost my arm?”

“He said you were doing something ‘incredibly stupid and totally avoidable’.” Mr. Lop smells like pasta water and soap. 

“Konoha’s lying. It was totally 100% necessary!” Bokuto corrects, “I won! I should know.”

“I see.” Dr. Lop says, taking a moment to inspect Bokuto’s face before sliding over to begin cutting wires from his arm.

“That's right! The other guy was gonna hit me really hard and I didn’t want to deal with that. It was better to just let him have the arm!” Bokuto squirms, edging a little closer to Absolutely-Totally-A-Doctor Mister Lop and his exposed nape “And I won Konoha a lot of money tonight so tell him to appreciate me a little more.” 

“Please keep still, Bokuto-san.” Dr. Lop’s table rolls itself a little closer to Bokuto. He watches as Doctor Lop fiddles with the remote. The table leans forward a little and rises closer to Bokuto’s seated upright position. The machine is so quiet. "I'm sure Konoha appreciates you accordingly." 

“He doesn't and Washio doesn't either!"

The doctor hums, double-checking that he has all of his tools ready to go.

"Ask me why, Doc!"

"'Why?' Bokuto-san."The table comes to a stop and Doctor Lop scoots forward in his chair. Inspecting to make sure the table isn’t too high or too low.

"It's because I'm cooler than they are."

Akaashi nods in satisfaction at his positioning.

"You’re supposed to say that I’m really cool!"

“‘You’re really cool’.” Lop says with absolutely no inflection.

“Doc!”

He pulls his table full of tools and supplies closer to him, but the look of confusion on the doctor’s face doesn’t fade. He picks up a pair of heavy gloves before setting them back into his lap.

“Bokuto-san,” Lop says solidly. “Konoha is paying you properly?”

Bokuto nods excitedly, Doctor Lop can sense him launching him into a rant.

 “Wouldn’t it be better to invest in a new set of arms?” Doctor Lop sits up straight in his chair “These. It’s about that time.”

It’s about that time. Bokuto sits on that for a moment. Bokuto’s eyes wander to the windows and back to the column of Doc Lop’s neck and then to where his heels are pulling him across the floor.

“Doc, what’s your name?” 

The good doctor stops to give Bokuto a good once over. For just a moment Bokuto can see a little battle in Lop’s tired eyes, it's the first slip up he’s had all night, and he thinks he would like to see more of those in the future if given the chance. The thought that Doctor Lop might really want to tell him, might actually share that part of himself. Before he points to the soft, black ears dangling from his headband and resting gently on his shoulders.

“Lop.” 

Bokuto sucks in a breath.

“Aw, Doc!” He’s not sure what he expected, but he’s disappointed regardless. Enough to want to wallow in it. Enough to pout and direct his gaze out of the window.

All is quiet, and Doctor Lop continues his work. Pulling on his gloves and goggles and waiting for the soldering iron to heat. Lop feels a little responsible for the sudden change in mood. He wants to apologize, but he’d feel silly.

“Doc!” Bokuto says without a hint of caution.

Lop sucks in his relieved sigh before it can hit his shoulders. 

“Yes.” He leans over to pick up the soldering iron.

“Why a bunny?”

Doctor Lop pauses, thankful for the goggles.

Lop puts the soldering iron down, before hastily rearranging the tools on his table.

“I think it suits me.” Doctor Lop says quietly.

Bokuto hums, watching a particularly fast car run by the window. 

“I think you’re right, Doc!” 

Doctor Lop spins to face Bokuto. An earnest pair of golden eyes have been watching his every move since the moment he walked through the door. He thought it would be a little more unsettling, but there’s nothing but a friendly, warmth in Bokuto’s eyes. Lop manages to snap out of it. But he does decide to start applying the stitches first instead.

“Would you have picked something else for me?” Lop asks, pulling out a packet of zip stitches for a deep gash on his cheek.

Bokuto’s glad to see the ice melt. Lop’s hands are soft and his nails are short and well kept. The pressure on his cheek is soft, but when the zip stitches knit themselves together a tight pain runs across his skin.

Bokuto winces.

“No way, I think a bunny is good for you!” Bokuto whips around to face Doctor Lop “You should get more people to work here. Then you can have a whole zoo of pretty animal people!”

Bokuto can see the reflection of his eyes in the doctor’s goggles, glowing gold.

“There are other people who work here.” Doctor Lop moves on to a light cut right above Bokuto’s rib cage. A purplish splotch is already starting to crop up and Lop can’t help but wonder how much of Bokuto is actually artificial, as rude as it is.

“What are they like?” Bokuto tries to move the fingers on his detached arm and is disappointed to learn that it is not wireless.

“One is short and mean, the other is tall and mean. We also have a part-timer. Also rude but surprisingly efficient.” Lop takes his time cleaning this wound, it’d be a shame if something happened to Bokuto due to his negligence.

“You’re a little mean, too, Doc.” Bokuto says, squirming at sting of the gel disinfectant smeared over his cut. 

“It’s for the best. We see lots of people just like you. It's easier to cut them down before they get ahead of themselves.” Doctor Lop says, running his eyes over the swelling cropping up over Bokuto’s face. “Are you bleeding anywhere else?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t hurt much. And Doc! I'm nice! You even said I was cool earlier.” 

The doctor’s nose wrinkles. Cute.

“There’s someone taking care of cuts and scrapes in the dungeon.” 

“Yeah, but Konoha said ‘the other guy will take care of it as long as it isn’t life threatening. Now go and be careful, Bokuto, there's cops out there.’” Bokuto hasn’t made any moves to roll over. 

“Bokuto-san, turn over please.” 

“But I wanna hear some more about your friends!” Bokuto says a little too loud “Don’t worry about it! A guy kicked me really hard back there is all.” 

Lop nods, leaning in closer

“Is something broken? Or is it just bruised?” his voice is raspy and quiet like it's going away all of a sudden. Mouth set in a hard line and Bokuto can see his eyes reflecting in his goggles again. If he looks a little lower he can see the creamy line of two prominent collar bones.

“It’s just bruised, Doc, I keep saying!”

Lop stays close before giving one last nod and turning back to his soldering iron. Bokuto turns to the window while Doctor Lop melds together the wires of his arm. 

"You gotta treat me gently, doc. Be Gentle with your patients."
The ventilation runs at full speed to suck out the bad air. He’s been here for a while. Traffic hasn’t slowed, but the group from the building across has brought their merry making to an end. Shops are closing down and the drones are swooping down to demand that people clear the streets and stick to the sidewalks. He realizes that his time with Doctor Lop is coming to an end.
 
The soldering stops.

“Gentle treatment is for people who don't hide injuries. Bokuto-san, would you please flex your fingers one at a time.” 

Bokuto can hear the whirring of machinery at his side, probably not supposed to happen, but he can move all 5 of his fingers.

“And rotate your wrist.”

Without incident he rolls his wrist in a circle.

“Make a fist.” Bokuto clenches his fist and lets out a noise of joy. “Lovely. Can you set your arm by yourself?”

Of course he can, he was put on god’s barren, resource-deprived, earth to flex for beautiful bunnies of all shapes, sizes, genders and denominations, but especially this one. 

He pushes his arm in the socket, listening for the soft click. Doctor Lop removes the straps holding Bokuto’s arm to the table. And Bokuto performs a few more tests, inspecting his hands and checking the response time of each finger. His arm moves and functions just like it did before, the doctor’s work is excellent even if he looks like he hasn’t slept in a few days. The whirring from before is gone, and he throws a few experimental punches before reaching up to stretch.

“Thank you, doctor!” says plopping back down his chair.

“You’re welcome, Bokuto-san.” Doctor Lop says setting out his tools for cleaning. “Should I look at your other arm as well?”

Bokuto shakes his head, leaning back in the examination chair, eyes roaming around the office. Such energy. Lop doesn’t think he minds much.

“Lop Doc, do you sleep here.”

Lop removes his goggles and gloves. The red ring imprinted around his eyes exasperating the tired look in them. He’s been holding on really well, but he looks like he’ll collapse any second now that he has to focus on himself.

“I live about 30 minutes away from here. You’re my last patient.” Something clatters on the tray next to him and Bokuto startles. “I apologize. Is there anythin else I can do for you?”
Bokuto eyes the doctor where he leans heavily on his tool tray. He stands and approaches Doctor Lop slowly. He’s not that much bigger than him, but it might be a little alarming to have someone who’s arm you can’t pick up move too quickly around you, especially if what he was saying earlier is true. Doctor Lop watches him with an alertness so fake he shouldn’t have even tried. 

“Doc,” Bokuto grabs one of Doctor Lop’s hands in his own and he can feel a vague sense of warmth and sweat bleeding into his augmentations, “What's your name?”

Doctor Lop gives a small, detectible sway forward from where he was sorting all of Bokuto’s damaged bits for recycling. 

“Doc?” Bokuto squeezes Akaashi’s hands. Trying to keep the fleeting lucidness in his eyes.

“Akaashi.” It comes quietly, Bokuto’s hands are cold but the rest of his body gives off heat in waves.

“Akashi.”

Doctor Lop leans in Bokuto isn’t exactly quiet, but for some reason his voice sounds far away and skin looks warm and inviting. Tan and soft even with all the muscle on underneath it.

“Akaashi. Aka-Ashi.”

“AkaaaAashi.”

“Right.”

“I’ll walk you home.”
 
Akaashi nods. Letting himself be led to the front door.

“I’ll clean up before I go.” Akaashi says leaning heavily on to the broad back in front of him.

“Yeah, yeah, right, sure! 'Kaash how do you lock the door?” Bokuto says, pointing at the biometric lock next to the door. Actually” Bokuto pulls Akaashi forward pushing him toward the scanner next to the door “I’ll turn around and you do it.” 

Bokuto is reluctant to leave Akaashi’s side, if he gets too far away he might genuinely tip over, but he feels he should at least close the privacy curtain. Since they weren't able to properly clean. A metallic thunk registers somewhere behind him and the confirmation tune of Akaashi’s identification being accepted plays. Bokuto watches as gates close over the windows he looked out of earlier as he pulls the privacy curtain closed.

When he turns around Akaashi has straightened himself out enough to make the red mark on his forehead look dignified. He’s hung his lab coat on the coat rack and Bokuto thinks he’ll let them have the poncho. Just in case it rains or something. The door is already open, and Bokuto leads him out.

The door clicks shut behind them. The hallway seems a lot brighter even without the urgent care sign blinking. Without the white coat Bokuto gets to take in more of Akaashi, his face is highlighted and shadowed by all kinds of colors from all different signs. He wraps an arm around Akaashi’s shoulder and leads him to the stairwell. His hands register the give there. His skin is soft and his shoulders are broad and smooth. 

“‘Kaashi.” Bokuto shakes him. His eyes are unfocused and it's more than a little alarming. He swipes an arm underneath him. Seating him on his forearm and letting Akaashi rest his head on his shoulder. “You gotta take better care of yourself, Doc!”

Akaashi buries himself further in his shoulder, red crawling up his neck.

“Please put me down, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi slurs out as he wraps his arms around Bokuto’s neck.

“I can't, you'll die! I swear it! You’ll fall and break your neck, and Konoha will get mad and all your friends from the office will come and kill me! Then we’ll both be dead. Then all that hard work! For nothing!”

A silent nod into his neck and Bokuto continues down the steps. Ragged breathes carry up to his ears and all he can do is take the steps slowly, but surely one by one until he reaches the bottom. 

The receptionist seems to have powered down for the night. Bokuto steps out into the street lights, everything is still so loud even though it's so late. He hopes the doctor can get a good night's sleep living so close by.

“‘Kaash, which way is your house?”

“Bus. Red Line. 5th stop.”

Bokuto nods, jaw set in determination as he marches up to the bus gram with an arm full of Bunny Doctor.

“I might be too heavy to ride.” Bokuto looks for the red line. Which is actually a Red Line on the gram, blessed be. It says it should be coming back around soon.

“You'll be fine.” Akaashi stumbles over the 'f' and he's been trying to squirm his way out of Bokuto’s arms for a while now. “But please put me down.”

“You’ll die, Akaashi! I keep telling ya!”

“Will I?”

“Well! Maybe not. That’s entirely up to you, ‘Kaash!” 

Akaashi manages a weak chuckle, Bokuto’s overfriendliness is less annoying than he thought it would be.

“Bokuto-san. I can make it home from here.” Akaashi finally says managing to get a heel on the ground “I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way.”

“I’m not! I’m telling ya, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. What if you get on the bus, and someone robs you? Or you fall asleep and miss work the next day cause you slept on the bus all night? It’ll make you look bad! That's no good.”

Akaashi doesn’t have the brain power to argue right now. All of Bokuto’s energy needs to go some place he supposes. So he leans on to Bokuto for support. They wait quietly as people bustle past the bus stop to the food stalls and dens still open at this time of night.

“They won’t kill you.”

Bokuto glances over.

“My coworkers. They won’t kill you.” 

“But—”

“They might hire someone else to do it, though.” Akaashi muses.

It is a simultaneously hilarious and terrifying sentiment. Bokuto settles on a puzzled half-chuckle. 

“What are they like?” 

“They’re all mean and I’m sure at least one of them is trying to figure out where I am.”

Bokuto takes a look at his own phone. 

“You’re not gonna answer them?” 

Akaashi shakes his head.

“I left it upstairs.”

Bokuto makes a disapproving noise in the back of his throat as he tries to keep Akaashi awake. 

“You’re supposed to be the smart one!”

“Don’t worry," Akaashi steadies himself on Bokuto "I am.”

It doesn't cut and Bokuto likes to think it didn't on purpose. He lets out a laugh, loud and raucous. Some glares are thrown their way, but Akaashi still remains. Swaying to gently, trying to stay on his feet and barely responding to any of Bokuto or his surroundings. Bokuto watches the bus come to a stop and places a hand on the small of Akaashi’s back. He takes the first step forward, Bokuto has to gently cajole him up the steps. Careful Bokuto whispers holding him upright. It takes some doing, Take your time, don't trip, Bokuto says. Some barked complaints from the back of the line and a harsh bit of dialogue from Bokuto to hecklers, but Akaashi makes it up the steps. He scans his bus pass and he topples into the seat closest to the doors. 

Bokuto regrets not bringing the poncho. Akaashi looks uncomfortable with the back of his head pressed up against the glass like that. He hates that Akaashi can’t go to sleep yet. His waist felt small in his hand, hopefully, he’s eating enough. Not just rice.

“So, do your friends wear costumes on the job too?” Bokuto pokes at Akaashi’s shoulder and his head lolls over to the hard metal of Bokuto’s arm.

“It’s quiet time, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi rasps out.

“Yeah, but this is really important!” Bokuto leans his head over to rest on top of Akaashi's “I also need to know where you live.”

Akaashi’s eyes are bleary, the bus lights are even harsher than the ones in the doctor's office and it looks like he's fighting to see. For a second he thinks that Akaashi isn’t going to answer him, that he’s going to have to be a huge asshole and wake Akaashi up.

“We all wear them, but they’re not all the same aminal.” 

Bokuto skims past the trip over his words.

“Oh cool. What other animals work with you?”

Akaashi’s having trouble keeping his eyes open and holding his own head up. Nodding off is supposed to be cute, but this looks painful to watch. He hates having to keep him awake when he knows it's this dire.

“A cat.” Akaashi says readjusting his head under the weight of Bokuto. Bokuto nods and hums his acknowledgment, cradling Akaashi’s hand in his own “A fox...”

Bokuto leans in close to hear the last one.

“And a mink.”

His head shoots up, eyebrows squishing together in confusion. He turns his head to look down at where Akaashi is resting.

“A mink?”

Akaashi nods slowly and stiffly. Kinda like the receptionist from earlier.

“That's weird.”

Akaashi doesn’t answer and Bokuto bodily readjusts.

“That doesn't go together at all!” 

Akaashi attempts what is probably supposed to be a shrug anyway. 

“I mean! A cat is peak! It’s traditional. When you go to the shops, you can find sexy cat costumes and stuff. I think foxes can be sexy. You know? I’ve never seen a sexy fox costume, but it works! But a mink?! That's just too weird.”

“Up, please.” Bokuto stands up “Your arm.”

“Oh.”

He sits again, lifting his arm. Bokuto gathers the doctor into an efficient side hug. Akaashi looks peaceful pressed up against his neck.

“You very warm, Bok-sam.”

Akaashi seems like he’s slipping further and further from this plane of existence. Bokuto hears the announcement for the third stop as the steering wheel of the bus turns itself down an empty street.

Akaashi lives on the outskirts of the district. Everything seems cleaner and quieter out here. 

"Arrival: 5th district promenade." the bus speakers chime out "Arrival: 5th district promenade."

“It’s still weird. The whole Mink thing.” Bokuto says, pulling Akaashi up by his wrists. He’s careful, Akaashi stumbles over his own shoes and Bokuto manhandles him into a piggyback ride. “Which one of these buildings is your house?”

Akaashi points weakly to the rectangular building in front of him. It’s much wider than the district building, but there are fewer floors. Akaashi’s apartment has no front doors to enter and a big open square in the middle of it. Something like a built-in park and it's dotted with convenience stores and food stalls around the perimeter. Bokuto thinks that there might be a pharmacy hidden over in the corner. 

“Wow, ‘Kaash,” Bokuto steps a little higher and harder than he should have “It’s nice in here. Real nice! What floor are you on?” 

 Despite the open door policy, a guard does stop him before he can reach the elevator.

“One of you live here?”

 Bokuto jostles Akaashi into slurring out that Bokuto is a visitor. The guard gives Bokuto a withering look. Akaashi mumbles out an apology and slides a hand of Bokuto’s shoulder to press a palm into the guard's security glass. It has trouble reading his palm the first time around, Bokuto reaches up to press his hand closer to the glass. The guard throws another suspicious look Bokuto’s way, but permits them to pass. There’s no weight plate here, which means this building is up to code and Bokuto couldn’t be happier.

“‘Kaash! Kaash! What floor?” Bokuto steps on to the elevator giddily.

“23. He can barely make out the sound of Akaashi's voice.

“Cool! This is one of those elevators where you can just say it right?” Bokuto’s bouncing is upsetting the delicate balance of Akaashi’s stomach “23!”

A kind feminine voice repeats Bokuto’s floor number.

“Floor 23.” 

The elevator glides into motion. Satisfying ding after ding as they go up the floors. It’s great until he can hear Akaashi retch behind him. Doc Lop sounds pitiful, but he’s sure Akaashi would hate it if he said anything. Instead, Bokuto settles on rubbing circles into the doctor’s thigh to give him something else to focus on. He’s positive he can feel a wetness on the skin of his neck.

“‘Kaash?” Bokuto whispers as he takes slow steps of the elevator and down the hallway.

Akaashi fights away the sniffles.

“Why are you whispering?”

“What’s your room number?”

The doctor stays quiet and he’s sure Akaashi’s exhausted brain is trying to remember his own door number.

“2319.”

Bokuto breathes out a sigh of relief. He’s glad that he can finally let Akaashi rest properly. His apartment is a short walk and surprisingly the door opens with just his presence. The lights raise themselves to show a tightly controlled mess of an apartment. A small kitchenette to his right, A dining room table littered with papers to his right. Big windows with a nice view right in front of him. Bokuto hopes that Akaashi’s door locks just the way it opens, with no help, and goes into the sitting area. Right next to Akaashi’s TV is a little cove where a full-sized bed sits.

 Bokuto lays him down and watches him sag into his comforter. 

“I’m not doing anything weird, okay?” he whispers in the general direction of Akaashi’s foot as he removes his shoes. “You gotta be more careful. You gotta take better care”

He picks Akaashi up again. Another gag tears itself from his throat and Bokuto pauses, moving slower this time. Peeling back Akaashi’s sheets and laying him down underneath.

He takes off the bunny ear headband and places it on his own head. The ears are soft when they hit his shoulders. He can kind of see why Akaashi went with lop ears instead of the more traditional route. Bokuto wishes he could have given Akaashi a proper meal to eat. From the looks of the take-out sitting out on Akaashi’s counter someone else probably does too. A little note sits on top of the container that reads “:\”. Maybe one of Akaashi’s friends, the mean ones from work. He decides that he can’t go home for the night. He doesn’t want to spend the money calling a cab. Instead, he settles on Akaashi’s couch, eats his takeout and decides to make sure he gets a proper day’s rest and a good meal tomorrow.