Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Happy birthday, Bokuto.” Akaashi raised his glass and Bokuto cried for the fourth time in one evening. The room laughed and drank to the success of a friend.

Bokuto crushed Akaashi into a hug and Akaashi hugged him back, patting his back to remind him to be more gentle. His best friend; sunlight and strength personified.

After releasing Akaashi from his death clutch, Bokuto sniffed wetly and blew out his candles in one blow to the cheers of his closest friends and family. Hopefully that meant the speech went well. Bokuto seemed happy with it, at least. The room full of people would have made up for it with their own enthusiasm anyway.

Akaashi patted the birthday boy on the back again and stepped away to free space for the mob that was already starting to descend on the table.

He loved Bokuto, but he was very confident that if he stayed he would die a horrible death at the hands of a horde of professional athletes in search of birthday cake. It would be a glorious death, but tragic. Akaashi Keiji, recent college graduate, owner of the largest eye bags ever discovered by science and wielder of one yellow plastic fork, standing feebly against an army of the starved and desperate in the name of processed sugar and friendship.

When Akaashi reached the relative safety of his kitchen, he glanced back at the cake table he abandoned. No murders to be seen yet.

He still wasn’t sure why Bokuto had agreed to having his party in Akaashi’s shitty little one bedroom apartment on the outskirts of town when any one of his friends owned something akin to a mansion, but he’d seemed overjoyed when Akaashi hesitantly suggested it several months ago.

Foolish Akaashi, figuring the idea would’ve been instantly shot down in favor of literally anywhere else in the country. For example, in a house big enough to hold more than a small group of people, rather than every volleyball player in Japan.

Truly, anything should have been preferable to this; a hovel of an apartment owned by a borderline recluse who had been too swamped with finishing his master’s degree and then starting a grueling new job to be a good friend recently. Or to vacuum. Hopefully no one noticed.

But this was what Bokuto wanted, so it was what Akaashi provided. Making his friends happy had never been a chore, and it was rarely hard.

If filling his home with deadly levels of alcohol and the country’s most attractive athletes was what it took to host a birthday party for his best friend, so be it.

Akaashi apologized his way through the small crowd in his kitchen and refilled his glass with a bold amount of the champagne one of Bokuto’s teammates had provided. Miya, probably. He and one of the team’s other spikers had arrived early bearing enough bags to warrant a search on any public transportation and Akaashi had let them in without question.

Now that he thought about it, there could have been anything in those bags. Fireworks? In his home? It’s more likely than you’d think.

Akaashi took another large swig of champagne and thanked the ancestors who made a liquid that could make the human brain slightly less neurotic. He held his glass close to his body and slowly maneuvered back towards his tiny living room.

There was a small area of space clear of people just outside his kitchen doorway, so Akaashi claimed the spot and leaned against his doorframe to survey the space before him that had filled with life and light (and so much noise) in just a few hours. It was exceptionally loud and packed with people.

The muted rooms of his home that were normally reserved for one tired soul in desperate need of peace had become something akin to a frat party. It was probably more accurate to describe it as a party store showroom, given the amount of decorations sourced from the party store Akaashi had raided on his way home from work. The balloons Akaashi forgot to buy helium for were drifting around the room and colorful paper streamers hung from every single surface that couldn’t be considered a fire hazard. More than one group of people had small, drunken photoshoots in front of the glittering letters taped to the wall that spelled out Bokuto’s name.

Everything was hung very haphazardly, given the twenty minutes Akaashi had to prepare before people started showing up, but the overall effect was bright and filled with enough color and chaos for a halfway decent Bokuto Birthday Bash. Everyone generally seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Along the largest wall where another of Bokuto’s endless supply of friends had set up a plastic table, the birthday boy joked and laughed (in a very intoxicated manner), now with cake smeared on his face. Someone had found and turned on the ceiling lights that hadn’t been turned on since Akaashi bought proper lighting (lamps), but even still, the space around Bokuto seemed particularly dense with laughter and light.

It felt bizarre. The couch Akaashi had stress-cried and then fell asleep on just last week now had half of his former high school team lounged across it, drunk halfway to hell and gorging themselves on cake Akaashi knew he’d have to practically shovel off the fabric later.

His guests were eating off of a paper plate with various cartoon superheroes on them. Almost everyone who walked through the door had grabbed one of the party hats Akaashi bought because they were on sale. Bokuto himself had two of them on top of his head like little golden horns.

The party was a hit. Akaashi’s best friend was happy. The pre-publication stress where Akaashi hadn’t been able to think about a life outside of work was gone. He was surrounded by friends and people who were happy to be here. Especially Bokuto, who shone amongst the crowd. He practically radiated joy.

It was easy to be his friend, and Akaashi loved him, but—

But it was hard to stand near his light, sometimes.

Akaashi could admit it to himself, thanks. He knew it. He told his therapist about it. It was acknowledged. It was factual that it was just hard sometimes.

Being friends with the verifiable sun required sunscreen for the emotionally pale and frail like Akaashi. Akaashi’s therapist had, on more than one occasion, told him that this was nonsensical (in much kinder words), but it didn’t stop Akaashi from feeling it anyway.

Akaashi was just exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally. He was exhausted. He had just come off of a several-month-long anxiety attack of getting his first huge project ready for publication at the publishing job he wasn’t even sure he wanted and now he was hosting a birthday party and there had been no time between the two to take a single focusing breath. He was standing in the middle of a party strung out on stress and no sleep and being a really bad friend.

He didn’t even have it in him to go back to where Bokuto was sitting. Giving a speech in front of a crowd of people had pushed Akaashi past his very limited remaining social threshold for the day and he very much did not have what it took to go back and perform mannerisms.

So Akaashi took another drink and remained exactly where he was.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk to Bokuto; fuck no. He missed his best friend.

He missed him terribly.

They rarely got to spend much time together these days, what with the volleyball season starting for Bokuto and Akaashi continuing to generally fail at being a functioning adult. But Bokuto was a huge personality on his own and right now he was surrounded by people and again, Akaashi was tired. He could barely handle himself lately.

Akaashi just didn’t have it in him right now to attempt the balancing act of socialization in front of a crowd of people, so he was reduced to being a wallflower in his own home at his best friend’s birthday party, like a loser.

Did it make him a bad friend that Akaashi had to mentally prepare himself for interacting with his best friend? Probably.

And it was different now. It used to be so easy. When they were young, Akaashi’s group of friends was together so often that it had been easy to exist as a part of something bigger than himself. But now they were all adults and getting together felt like a thing. It took time out of their lives to include each other in their lives.

There was already so little time to exist, let alone maintain a consistent and healthy social life with the group of people Akaashi cared about. It was nonsensical, but it had become reality. Adulthood was pretty shit so far, actually.

The last few weeks had been particularly terrible as well, given how much his work life had been straining Akaashi’s general wellness. Grinding his way into the publishing business was rapidly wearing away at everything he had. His diet was obviously the first thing lost to the fire, but then very quickly the rest of his personhood seemed to go as well. Being a good friend had fallen to the wayside far more quickly and more easily than Akaashi would have ever believed, had he not been the one making it happen.

And now here he was, not even making an effort to socialize when nearly all of his friends were here.

Akaashi was despicable. Truly, a horrible person.

This was supposed to be a Big Birthday Bash filled with happiness and friendship, and here was Akaashi, standing in the middle of a walkway, being sad.

He wasn’t even sure if it was the alcohol making him more morose or if he was just being a downer again. It would probably be in Akaashi’s best interest to cut himself off after this drink anyway. Just in case.

Yes. That would make this better. Akaashi nodded to himself and decided to, as Bokuto would say, full send before subjecting himself to soberness at a party. He tipped his glass back and swallowed down the carbonation like he could make up for his bad ideas with effort.

“Chug, chug, chug.”

Akaashi sputtered and choked at the sudden chanting.

The alcohol burned even more on its way up. Akaashi’s eyes stung and it felt like someone lit a fire inside of his lungs — and the evil soul next to him was laughing at his suffering. Akaashi choked down lungfuls of painful air and glared past the tears in his eyes at the familiar figure next to him.

Something bubbled up past the death roiling in his stomach; something that felt a lot like emerging from a riptide and inhaling a breath of air in the sunlight. Truly, this was an extremely gay thought to be having while choking and on the verge of death. Akaashi was hopeless.

He downed another gulp of his champagne to wash his stupidity down and stood up straight. He was dreadfully sweaty and very disheveled but this particular friend had seen him worse.

And there he was.

The asshole who had almost just killed Akaashi.

Kuroo Tetsurou was leaning against the other side of Akaashi’s kitchen doorframe in his stupid dark slacks with his stupid rolled sleeves and was smiling at Akaashi in that devastating way that he’d started doing in high school and had tormented Akaashi with ever since. He looked like he just got off work moments ago, because his signature, gravitationally-unfortunate hair was starting to fall limp, making him look even wilder than normal.

Leaning there with his shitty personality on full display, he looked like some sort of purposefully-mussed model sent to torment people going through a crisis. His proximity raised Akaashi’s blood pressure. This was unrelated to the recent choking incident.

He was also very much not on the business trip he said he was going to be on.

Akaashi was helpless in the crosshairs of Kuroo’s crooked smile and his unexpected appearance. Kuroo knew it, too, and cheekily said, “Oh, hello. You come here often?”

Akaashi lowered his drink and narrowed his watering eyes. “Seriously?”

Kuroo’s deep laugh reverberated straight into Akaashi’s chest, where it had made itself a home in every iteration across every year and every place they had ever been together. He reached out across the small space between them and gently tapped their cups together, one half empty and the other half full.

“I was going to ask if you choked often, but I decided to be kind.” He ignored the face Akaashi continued to make at him. Instead, his smile shifted almost infinitesimally towards something like sincerity. “You looked like you were thinking too much. I’ve come to help.”

“Ah,” Akaashi nodded and took another, slightly smaller sip of his drink, leaning back against the doorframe to mirror Kuroo’s posture. He didn’t miss how Kuroo’s eyes followed the motion. “You would be an expert in that particular malady.”

The alcohol had hit Akaashi a while ago, caught as he was in his own morose thoughts, but now Kuroo was here and the champagne bubbles turned to liquid stars as they trailed down Akaashi’s throat and danced in his stomach.

“What, helping you? It’s my pleasure, dear Akaashi. For example, I will refill this,” He plucked Akaashi’s champagne glass neatly out of his hand. “And then we will find a place where I can rest my feet.”

Kuroo disappeared into Akaashi’s kitchen, leaving him to stand alone in his designated introvert spot. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands without something to hold. A person he recognized from Bokuto’s volleyball team smiled as they passed by him, but there was no way Akaashi was going to make another attempt at engaging in human conversation after being put even more off-balance than he already was tonight, so Akaashi did his best impersonation of a friendly smile and pretended to see something else so they would keep walking.

Akaashi’s eyes found the lamp closest to him and he stared at it very intently as to avoid any further eye contact.

It felt like a social low, even for him. He was very unequipped for being a person on a regular day, but this was getting rather ridiculous. He wished his therapist was here to unpack why Akaashi would rather pluck at the sleeves of his sweater and stare at a lighting fixture than talk to his friends, but he already knew those reasons.

He suddenly felt like a child left unsupervised in a grocery store. Twenty four years old and if someone didn’t put a notice out on the PA system soon, Akaashi was going to start running. He was standing like an outcast in his own home. Honestly.

“A water, on the house.” The low voice behind him was the only notice Akaashi got for Kuroo reaching around him with a large plastic cup in hand. Akaashi took it with a quiet thanks.

Kuroo’s arm left, but he stayed close. His cologne smelled like business deals and liquid gold, the lingering scent of boy underneath it all that stayed no matter where he had been or how many years had passed. He was a menace, showing up here, like this, while Akaashi was in the throes of crisis. Akaashi’s inhibitions were very low and he was very tired and he did not have much energy for detached nonchalance.

He hoped Kuroo was prepared for the consequences of his actions.

“We sit,” Kuroo declared. He gestured grandly towards Akaashi’s couch and stepped behind Akaashi, like he was expecting to be led through the clumps of people in his apartment like the walk was going to be some grand quest. It really wasn’t all that big of a place, but when he felt Kuroo’s hand lightly brush against his lower back, every step Akaashi took from his kitchen to his couch felt like it was happening in slow motion.

A group of extraordinarily tall people had set up shop in the middle of his living room for some game involving standing in a circle and chanting, which Akaashi avoided like it would give him hives. He waved at a few friends he knew from a safe distance and Kuroo yelled some encouragement at some aspect of gameplay Akaashi didn’t even attempt to observe.

Kuroo was odd. He was a natural center of attention, entertaining with ease and bringing up the energy and confidence of everyone around him when he chose to take the spotlight. But more often, he stayed close to the shadows, close enough to still feed into the energy of an event, but far enough to see it from the outside. He was always a powerful presence, but sometimes he seemed to despise being in the public eye.

When they were younger, Akaashi had been surprised. He had known Kuroo as a friend of Bokuto’s who had been his by extension, but they didn’t really become friends until the first time Kuroo had been at a party Akaashi had been roped into attending.

Akaashi had been standing at the edges of the crowd, as he was wont to do, when Kuroo had apparated next to him and proposed a deal: Kuroo would make a scene that would solidify their attendance as something legendary, and then they would dip and find a better place to be.

Akaashi had, like any reputable introvert, agreed.

Kuroo had then given Akaashi a crash course in drinking games and after they won in a shocking upset and quite spectacular fashion, Kuroo had grabbed Akaashi by the hand and led him out the back door.

Nights like those, Akaashi Keiji learned on his own what it meant to be close to Kuroo Tetsurou. He had previously known Kuroo as a constant observer of the people around him, and he knew that when Kuroo decided to share his thoughts on a matter, he was quick-witted and bold.

But until they sat in weird places and talked over the faint sounds of someone else’s party, Akaashi hadn’t known how much of a natural complement Kuroo was to his own personality. He was a counterweight to Akaashi’s internal observations. He easily brought out Akaashi’s opinions with bold confidence and open honesty. He took Akaashi’s dry humor easily and matched it with a silver tongue and snappy retorts that made Akaashi feel like laughing.

Kuroo had understood Akaashi in a way that didn’t involve explanation of the parts of himself most difficult to articulate. Over the years, Kuroo had created for himself a space Akaashi never would have otherwise thought could exist: a place only he belonged. And he always, without fail, appeared at Akaashi’s side when Akaashi wanted him most.

“Your alcohol selection is substandard, Akaashi,” Kuroo complained loudly from behind him.

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you crashing this party? Shouldn’t you be grateful to get anything at all?”

“If all there is to drink is shitty liquor, no.”

“Should’ve gotten here earlier, then.”

Kuroo’s hand left Akaashi’s back. He made a face as he stepped around Akaashi and dropped to the corner of the couch, immediately splaying himself out like the degenerate he was and patting the spot next to him.

Akaashi examined the amount of available space on the couch and very quickly realized that this was a piece of furniture at the very limits of its capacity. Personal boundaries were going to need to be compromised in order to make this work, and Akaashi very much did not want those to be violated by an intoxicated stranger.

He settled in next to Kuroo, a lightly-intoxicated not-stranger, and pulled his legs up to his chest to make as much space between him and the rest of the party as physically possible. His right side was now firmly pressed up against Kuroo, who was warm and solid and still talking about the many shortcomings of Akaashi’s party.

Akaashi sipped from his glass and listened to him talk.

Being this close to him was settling. His deep voice rumbled on and Akaashi felt every syllable against his body. Familiarity and proximity were balm enough to almost, finally, silence the white noise of Akaashi’s brain. For the first time in the evening, he found himself relaxing.

“You got a new lamp.” Kuroo nodded towards Akaashi’s newest bargain find, finally bored of conversing with himself for laughs.

Akaashi nodded. “Yes, I did. It was twelve dollars.”

“Wow! So financially responsible!”

“Thank you. I am poor.”

“They should pay you more at that job of yours.” Kuroo sounded half serious but very bold. “You work hard, you’re smart, your competence inspires confidence, and you look very good in those sweaters of yours. You’re the complete package. Did you get a discount for purchasing the full set?”

“Did you talk to Bokuto already?”

“Yes, Akaashi, I said hi to Bokuto already. He was very busy.” Akaashi followed Kuroo’s gaze across the room, where Bokuto was currently throwing balls into superhero-themed cups to the beat of Shakira.

“How’s the job treating you?”

Akaashi’s eyes dropped to his socks.

He probably should have vetted them more before accepting the first guest into his home. The whales on them were faded and they were worn thin enough to threaten the sudden appearance of toes in a (borderline) civilized setting.

“Could be worse.” There could be toes present, after all. Akaashi wasn’t about to ruin the evening with things that should remain hidden until a more appropriate situation arose.

“Fascinating.” Kuroo rolled his eyes, not unkindly. He didn’t continue. He was obviously not going to let Akaashi completely brush him off without something resembling an explanation.

Akaashi sighed. “Do you like talking about your job in your free time?” It came out slightly harsher than Akaashi had meant it.

Kuroo only looked mildly surprised, then thoughtful. He tilted his head and appeared to legitimately think about Akaashi’s… well, it had been a legitimate question, if rudely asked.

“I guess sometimes. When interesting stuff happens. But you almost never mention yours anymore.”

Akaashi tucked his hands into his sweater between his legs and his chest. It was one of his more comfortable ones, old and worn from years of constant use. It didn’t used to belong to him. They both knew it.

“I don’t think anyone enjoys hearing someone else complaining, especially at a birthday party.”

“I wouldn’t mind if it’s you complaining, Akaashi.” And that was all Kuroo said to that. He lifted his arm to rest it atop the couch behind Akaashi’s head, opening up a spot for Akaashi to lean into more. Small comforts. “But that’s fine, we can just talk about my staggering successes at my job to pass the time.”

“You’re so modest.”

“And humble. Also don’t forget charming, devilishly handsome, witty, stylish—”

Someone to Akaashi’s left bumped into him, clearly trying to make space on their other side to fit yet another person onto Akaashi’s poor couch. It very much seemed like Bokuto was friends with everyone in Japan.

Akaashi subtly rearranged himself while Kuroo went on with his ridiculous list, trying not to knee anyone but also trying to put as much distance between himself and the crowd as possible. He ended up in Kuroo’s lap instead.

Kuroo chuckled and very generously pulled Akaashi closer, easily saving him from the elbows of the drunk and disorderly. Their shift caused Akaashi’s sweater to ride up slightly. It was free real estate, and Kuroo knew it. It seemed almost thoughtless the way Kuroo’s hand migrated to rest next to the tiny strip of exposed skin, but Kuroo rarely did anything without thinking about it.

Akaashi reached behind Kuroo to set his glass down on a side table. That hand didn’t slip for an instant. Kuroo capitalized on the shrunken space between them, resting his mouth on the soft shell of Akaashi’s ear.

His question was soft. “I listed my accomplishments for you. Are you impressed yet, Akaashi Keiji?”

Knowing full well they were in a room full of people, Akaashi brushed his hand along Kuroo’s exposed neck. Kuroo finally stopped talking and Akaashi let his hand run up into the shorter hair at the back of his head, scraping gently against sensitive skin. He smiled softly at the shivered response.

“I might need more convincing, Kuroo-san.”

Their conversation was long past appropriate for public space, but who in their right mind would attempt a rational conversation in the middle of a party?

Kuroo was very good at making Akaashi enjoy this part of parties. Especially when Akaashi had already burned himself out on attempting to interact with people in a normal way. Especially when he had had alcohol. Especially when Kuroo held him like this.

Akaashi rested his free hand on Kuroo’s chest and waited for the response to his challenge. There was no chance he hadn’t picked up on Akaashi’s mood as soon as he’d arrived, but this was Kuroo. If he could draw something out for his own amusement, he would.

His smile was devious. “Akaashi, if I knew I would be seducing you tonight, I would’ve at least worn clean underwear.”

Akaashi huffed. “I didn’t know you knew how to operate a washing machine.”

“I would’ve cracked a new pack just for you.”

“How considerate.”

“Anything for you, love.” Kuroo punctuated it with over-exaggerated kissy noises. Akaashi rolled his eyes and breathed deeply to suppress the urge to smother Kuroo with a throw pillow.

“Akaash!!! You found Kuroo!”

It was like the lid was torn off of a pressure cooker.

Akaashi had, to be quite honest, briefly forgotten about the existence of other people who could potentially interact with them. Clearly Kuroo had too.

Kuroo leaned back against the couch and Akaashi let his hands drop back to his lap.

The living room felt much larger and much colder than it had just been. Akaashi was glad for the warm hand that remained glued to his bare skin.

In front of them, Bokuto stood with a drink in one hand and a massive owl plush tucked under his other arm. It was wearing two party hats, just like Bokuto. Bokuto himself was grinning and leaning very far forward, like he was adjusting to a very rocky ship in a storm. There were probably very few people who could handle the amount of alcohol that was definitely coursing through his veins at present and still be standing at all.

He looked like he was having a great time, though. Akaashi felt slightly less bad about abandoning him to the revelry. What had he just said though?

Ah. “Yes, I was just picking up some trash from the party and he happened to be there.”

“Rude,” Kuroo muttered into his ear. Akaashi ignored him and the hand that rode farther up into his sweater in retaliation.

“I’m surprised you’re both still here!”

“Bokuto-san, this is your party. And Kuroo came all the way back from— Where were you again?”

Kuroo said, helpfully, “Brazil.”

Akaashi paused to breathe deeply. He continued on, ignoring the problem wrapped around him on the couch who now had an evil smile on his face. Typical. Kuroo loved waiting to drop information bombs until he could make them Akaashi’s problem.

He was going to faraway places more often for his job recently, but Brazil was across-the-world far. Whatever event he and the Japanese Volleyball Association had to be big, if it warranted circumnavigating the fucking earth for a business trip. Ridiculous. Kuroo and his ridiculous job and his ridiculous flair for dramatics. Akaashi could only imagine how he had been planning on telling Akaashi his big plan for some epic event that would change the volleyball landscape in Japan forever.

Akaashi would not get sidetracked.

“This is your party and Kuroo came all this way for you. Why would either of us not still be here?”

Bokuto cocked his head. “What do you mean? Kuroo said he was in town for you. Plus you hate parties.”

Kuroo tensed. Akaashi furrowed his eyebrows. He didn’t understand why Bokuto had suddenly broken free of the main group of people to nicely, but obviously, tell Akaashi to get out of his party.

Was Akaashi really doing that poorly of a job hosting?

He had barely spoken to anyone (besides Kuroo; a recent development in the evening), but he thought he had at least not been dragging the energy down too much. Plus, it seemed like people had enjoyed the Bokuto Anecdotes in his speech.

“This is my house.”

“Earlier you said make myself at home,” Bokuto argued. Which, fair. Akaashi had been adamant about that. “Also, Tsum Tsum had an idea to go to some bars so we might do that. That way your fancy computer and your nice books will be safe when it gets crazy.”

The fact that the party thus far was not considered crazy was a horrifying thing to learn. Akaashi had been absolutely fucking right that he was not built for this. A small vindication within a budding nightmare. Akaashi had barely attempted to party tonight, and more importantly he had barely spoken to Bokuto.

He was feeling recharged now; he could definitely make a better attempt if they went to bars, like Miya had suggested.

Akaashi fought back. “It’s your birthday celebration.” Truly this was not his best attempt at an argument, but he was not expecting to be put on trial defending himself from getting kicked out of his own house, so it was about as good as he was going to get.

“That means I get what I want, right? Didn’t you say those were the rules?” Bokuto sounded determined.

Honestly, Akaashi should have expected something like this. If only he hadn’t been in a stupid crisis for several months, he would have been able to be more cognizant of his behavior’s effect on the people around him. He would have recognized that he was bringing down the party and he would have seen whether or not Bokuto was having a good time.

Even now, Bokuto didn’t appear to be upset. He just seemed drunk and slightly unhinged. This was not a surprise. Akaashi had to be missing something. He hadn’t noticed anything amiss earlier, and he couldn’t see anything now, but he had been rather wrapped up in himself and then, well, Kuroo.

Akaashi tried to remedy the shortsightedness of his past self with a quickly conjured retort, but his brain was very much not working and all that came out was stuttered waffling. Kuroo’s hand needed to shut the fuck up.

“I want you to have fun too.”

Akaashi was immediately rendered silent. He stared at Bokuto. Bokuto stared back resolutely. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was halfway into a power pose and he looked ready to shoot anything that came out of Akaashi’s mouth down instantly.

Well. That was that.

Bokuto was in serious mode. It was game over.

Akaashi could feel Kuroo trying not to laugh under him. When Bokuto dug his heels in, there was no escape. Even the most ludicrous ideas, like Akaashi abandoning the party he helped throw, couldn’t be avoided in a head-on Bokuto approach. Worse, Kuroo hadn’t objected to Bokuto suggesting him leaving with Akaashi, which meant he was on board with this ludicrous plan.

That meant Akaashi was now against both Bokuto and Kuroo at once with no support.

He sighed.

“I think that’s a great idea, Bokuto.” Kuroo grinned up at Bokuto. “I will escort our dearest Akaashi out, our loving friends can clean his home, and you can go drink your heart out with the boys.”

Bokuto gave him a triumphant double thumbs up. “Yes!”

Akaashi threw his head back against Kuroo’s shoulder, groaning. “I cannot believe this.”

“Boo hoo. Up up.” Kuroo patted Akaashi’s back until he rose to his feet out of Kuroo’s lap. Akaashi tried not to look like he was pouting.

“This is ridiculous. I am being bullied out of my own home.”

“For certain. Let’s go. Field trip.” Kuroo slipped behind Akaashi and started nudging him towards the door like Akaashi was some sort of cat to be herded. Akaashi dug his heels in, leaning all the way back into Kuroo’s hands to slow their progress. He was being childish and drawing many of the eyes remaining in the house onto them, but he would not go without resistance. He was also probably tearing holes into his poor whale socks.

His efforts were met, very unsurprisingly, with Bokuto’s laughter.

Even though Akaashi was practically laying down vertically, Kuroo had always shared an obnoxious stubborn streak with him and he was still stupidly strong, so they continued their slow shuffle step towards the door despite Akaashi’s best efforts.

It was time for drastic measures.

Akaashi went limp.

“You bastard.” Kuroo caught him, but only barely. Akaashi lolled his head onto Kuroo’s shoulder, putting one hundred percent of his muscles into keeping his face neutral.

He was, however, immediately overcome with the realization that he was in the arms of Kuroo Tetsurou in the middle of a party of people who knew them both. If that wasn’t telling enough, he was also basically nuzzled against Kuroo’s neck. An unfortunate development, for sure, but he would persevere in the name of his pride.

There were several laughs at the scene they were causing. The laughter was instantly rendered insignificant, though, when Kuroo announced that he had had enough and released Akaashi.

When the human body is held up by a specific thing and then that specific thing suddenly removes itself from the situation of supporting another thing, that other thing tends to do a particular thing. Gravity was a bitch like that.

Akaashi’s heart stuttered as he started to fall backwards, and then stopped completely when Kuroo spun him around and knelt at his feet. He didn’t even have time to fully process his death before Kuroo wrapped his arms around Akaashi’s waist and picked him up like a small child. Or perhaps a sack of potatoes.

Akaashi made an embarrassingly high-pitched noise and grasped for purchase.

Kuroo hopped a little to rearrange Akaashi. Akaashi gripped his torso from where he hung (upside down against Kuroo’s back, like a saggy sack of potatoes) and listened to Kuroo say his goodbyes to everyone from the other side of Kuroo’s very built body. Akaashi flipped Bokuto off while Kuroo walked them to the door. The view afforded him an entire party’s worth of onlookers enjoying the sight of a man being kidnapped.

He suffered the additional indignity of Kuroo tossing their coats on top of his corpse on the way out.

The door closed behind them to a chorus of drunken cheers. Kuroo smacked Akaashi’s upper thigh and cackled to the open air.

“How’s that for a getaway, Akaashi Keiji?”

“Please put me down. I’m getting nauseous.”

“Ask nicely.”

“No.” Akaashi started pulling Kuroo’s shirt out of his pants. Kuroo wiggled and then squirmed at the light touch of vengeful fingers trailing their way down his skin. Ticklish kidnappers paid the price. Kuroo grunted and very ungently put Akaashi down on the sidewalk, nearly dropping him in his haste.

“Bastard.”

Akaashi grabbed his coat from where it had fallen. He threw it over his shoulder with a flourish and started walking in the opposite direction Kuroo seemed to have wanted to go. He was still in his fucking socks.

“You—” Kuroo stumbled to catch up to Akaashi, and then glared at him sideways while he shoved his shirt back into his pants.

They walked in silence while Kuroo got himself situated. It was a nice evening to be evicted from one’s home. The air was still warm from the summer heat, but nightfall and a cool breeze drifting through the streets made the weather ideal for wandering. Akaashi was glad none of his neighbors were outside because he knew he was very much not looking his best, trudging through the neighborhood with Kuroo, who looked suspicious on his best days.

Akaashi side-eyed him, gauging the probability of the police getting called for a kidnapping. Kuroo had always been handsome in a reckless sort of way; right now he had a disheveled softness to him that Akaashi only ever really saw when they were alone and the sun had gone down and all was quiet. His hair had finally fallen out of the gel he unfortunately used for work and it hung down in his eyes a little, briefly throwing Akaashi back in time.

It almost felt like they were young again. Like in high school, when they had just begun to get to know each other and Akaashi still didn’t know how to talk to Kuroo.

But that had been a long time ago.

It was no longer frightening to reveal the vulnerable pieces of himself to Kuroo, because his heart was in capable hands. That didn’t mean Akaashi was any more suited to vulnerability, but some things would probably never change. Calling attention to his worries was just difficult.

Akaashi looked up at the trees. And let out a breath.

“I don’t understand why Bokuto did that.”

“Don’t you?”

Akaashi looked at him. Kuroo was suddenly too busy dancing his fingers along the gates and fences they passed by to look back at him. He was excessively nonchalant when he was trying to make a point.

“No, I don’t.”

“You don’t think it had anything to do with him trying to do something for you?”

That was a possibility. But Bokuto was constantly doing things for Akaashi.

Every single year of Akaashi’s degree, he had sent Akaashi enough food to feed an army when finals hit and Akaashi dug his own grave to study in. He never failed to answer the essays of texts Akaashi sent him when he was spiraling about one thing or another; usually the morning after, because Akaashi was better at not having mental breakdowns during the day and Bokuto often went to bed early now. He was constantly sending Akaashi pictures that made him smile. He had shown up to every meaningful event in Akaashi’s life. Every graduation, every new job, every big step. Every milestone, he was there.

Bokuto showed up and supported Akaashi in every way he could ask for.

But this was the one time Akaashi tried to do something for him, and he had kicked Akaashi out. That wasn’t insignificant.

He told Kuroo such.

Kuroo looked at him like he was crazy.

“You are so stupid.”

“Thank you?”

“You’re his best friend. Besides me, obviously, who you could never beat because I am the best.” Kuroo winked playfully. Akaashi would argue, but Kuroo knew it, so he continued, leaving little chance of interruption.

“You do shit for everyone all the time. Even when you’re working yourself to the bone, which is constantly, you’re thinking of us. Everyone remembers when you dropped everything right before your thesis deadline because Bokuto’s mom was in the hospital and he was across the country. You intimidated the shit out of the doctors until they let you in her room and you kept her company until he got there, and then you stayed with him the entire time she was in there because he needed you.

“Half of your former teammates have you as their emergency contact, by the way. I know that because they told me at Bokuto’s party last year, which you also threw because you are always doing things for him.”

Akaashi frowned. “I didn’t know they made me their emergency contact. That’s extremely irresponsible of them. I don’t even know where some of them live.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes and gently grabbed Akaashi’s hand to stop their progress. They were under a large tree, out of which Akaashi had seen more than one bird shit. He waited with bated breath for Kuroo to make his point so they could move on, but Kuroo took his sweet fucking time with it.

Akaashi looked up and then at Kuroo and then back up and then back down. Nothing. Kuroo was looking at Akaashi like he was waiting for Akaashi to make a statement, or a point, or some important philosophical discovery.

“What?”

A breeze gusted through the street and Kuroo lifted his hand to cradle Akaashi’s face. His hand was calloused and gentle and Akaashi’s eyes started to burn and he didn’t know how to stop them.

Kuroo stepped closer and his voice was softer than the wind.

“You’re so wrapped up in your own head you forget how much you mean to the people who love you.”

A door slammed in the distance and Akaashi blinked at Kuroo. His brain was eerily silent.

“You’ve been going through it lately. It’s our turn to take care of you.” Kuroo’s smile turned crooked, and a little mischievous, and his hand curled possessively into Akaashi’s hair. “Well, mine. Bokuto just helped get me here to do it.”

“From Brazil.” Their foreheads bumped together.

Kuroo’s lips brushed against Akaashi’s. His breath was warm and it smelled like alcohol and he was still holding Akaashi’s face like it was precious. “However far it took. Don’t care. Would’ve made it somehow.”

“Eloquent.” Akaashi said, and then closed the distance between them again.

Kuroo huffed a laugh and kissed him back. He let Akaashi fist one hand in his nice work shirt and the other into his already messy hair, and in return he guided Akaashi until his back hit the concrete wall of his neighbor’s property.

Bracketed by Kuroo’s arms and out of range of the birds, Akaashi expressed more fully how much he appreciated Kuroo coming. He pushed a leg between Kuroo’s and coaxed his mouth open with his own.

The deep noise of Kuroo’s approval sparked a heat in Akaashi’s stomach. He had to put real effort into not smiling, which would break the moment, and Akaashi very much did not want that to happen. Instead, he deepened the kiss and let Kuroo’s hands wander, pulling them even closer until Akaashi wasn’t sure where he ended and where Kuroo began.

He still didn’t appreciate being evicted from a party he threw, but he would admit this was far preferable to bar-hopping with half of Japan. Akaashi would have honestly been quite content to remain pressed against a wall, kissing Kuroo in perpetuity, had someone not loudly and oh-so-rudely cleared their throat nearby.

The sound slammed him back into the world other people lived in, crowded up against the wall of a quiet neighborhood walkway, very disheveled and very, very warm.

He reluctantly pulled away from Kuroo to sheepishly grimace at an elderly woman he recognized from the farmer’s market. She looked appropriately scandalized. Akaashi would not be getting fresh produce for a long time.

“Now that my neighbors saw that.” Akaashi sighed, dropping his head onto Kuroo’s shoulder.

Kuroo laughed and rested his hand over the blush burning on the back of Akaashi’s neck.

Several moments later, presumably when the coast was clear, Kuroo spoke again. “That lady looked like my grandma.”

“Please don’t suggest your grandmother just saw us sucking face in a dark street.”

“Don’t kink shame me.”

Akaashi smacked his head on Kuroo’s shoulder and then disentangled them just enough so he could see Kuroo’s face more clearly. He was handsome all the time, but in the fading light on an almost-empty street with a smile that had just been kissed, he was soft at the edges. His smile grew when he saw Akaashi’s expression.

Their moment had been broken by an irascible old lady, but the night was still young.

“Back to mine?”

Akaashi smiled. “Back to yours.”

Kuroo threw an arm over his shoulders and led him back the way they came.