Work Text:
I.
Gray light streaks illuminated the dark sky shining on Akaashi’s stretching silhouette, as he reached back groaning into a wide yawn. The lobby was quiet, even peaceful, from his fluorescent lit window view. His dark eyes fixed on the dark gray horizon before sipping a steaming cup of coffee letting the warmth of the ceramic seep into his frigid fingers.
Akaashi welcomed the silence of the nearly empty lobby, giving him a chance to bring out his tablet to practice the new art tutorials that he had found last night on the van ride to their away game. Now, he and one haphazard office worker shared the dawning rays and unfortunate quality cups of coffee.
Morning was the only opportunity to escape rowdy teammates, especially as Akaashi still wanted to keep his art a secret until he felt good enough to share his work.
A rough sketch reflected up from his tablet–a criss-cross of black hatches stood stark against the white background, forming a vague form of a powerful torso on the screen. Alternating between staring out the window at the growing light and scratching away at the forming torso, Akaashi soaked in the silence of early morning.
The dawn broke slowly, almost as a timeless place, as stale blue streaks overtook the navy darkness of the cloudy sky. Settled beneath an air-conditioning vent, Akaashi shivered as a fresh push of cold air snaked its way down his spine. Which was fine. He could deal with the cold; however, his eyebrow twitched with frustration as he deleted yet another shaky line from his page.
Just as his jaw began to ache with tension, warm fabric enveloped him into a deliciously musky cocoon. A hard body quickly followed, the fabric draping over Akaashi’s lean frame sending a different kind of shiver down his spine. A steaming, fresh cup of coffee plopped on the table beside his hand, which made the dark-haired boy’s heart warm.
“G’morning, ‘Kaashi,” the grey-haired boy mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes with a wide yawn.
“Good morning, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi returned, feeling a warm heat of what must be a brilliantly bright blush crawl up his neck.
Bokuto dropped his head down to rest on Akaashi’s soft head of hair before he wrapped his arms around the dark-haired boy, peering down at the tablet.
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi hissed as the heat staining his cheeks threatened to scald him, burning a bright scarlet, he was certain. The grey-haired boy made a questioning noise. “Bokuto-san, someone is going to see us.”
Tightening his hold, the typically loud boy only vaguely shrugged. However, when Akaashi did not relax in his hold, Bokuto released him with a huff and pulled over a chair to sit next to him. He adjusted the jacket on his boyfriend’s slim frame until satisfied and settled in quietly with big sleep crusted eyes to watch him work.
“Thank you for coming down to check on me, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi murmured to the quiet boy.
“Welcome,” Bokuto replied. “I woke up, and you weren’t in our room, so I snuck by the other guys to come down.” A big yawn broke up the owlish boy’s speech. “I thought you may need some more caffeine too.”
After looking both ways, Akaashi leaned over to press a kiss into his boyfriend’s cheek, “I missed you too.”
Neither of the boys said much after that in the dusky dawning light, even as their teammates eventually filtered in and Akaashi quietly tucked his tablet away. As Bokuto woke up, his hair and energy spiked, the room filling with his booming energy.
He filled the needs of their teammates well, complaining and cheering with boisterous glee to the amusement of their tired teammates.
Akaashi watched his boyfriend work the room, hyping the team up for their game today, appreciatively eyeing the muscles shifting beneath his t-shirt–his fingers itching for his stylus once again. However, the firm press of Bokuto’s leg against his own beneath the privacy of the hotel lobby’s table grounded him to contently sip his morning coffee in silence.
Later that same day…
Chatter of the after-game excitement surrounded Akaashi as he drew, tucked away into the darkness in the back of the van. Bokuto bounced next to him, animatedly crowing to the rest of the bus, re-enacting his plays of the night, including his game winning spike. Amidst his exaggerated tales, he consequently blocked the dark-haired boy from the team's view, cloaking Akaashi in his brilliant shadow.
However, Bokuto drooped when a freshman boy brought up the shot that lost them the first set. Hit landing just outside the court line, Bokuto took almost ten minutes to be consolable again with the other team’s jeers and taunting.
Akaashi paused his drawing as Bokuto’s voice trailed off. Instead, he rubbed a hand against Bokuto’s back until he perked back up to the relief of the rest of the boys in the van.
Occasionally, a calloused hand would sneak down to squeeze Akaashi’s leg through his soft legging and even sometimes Akaashi would return the gesture with a lingering touch of his own—gratefully holding Bokuto’s powerful hand.
Finally, as the rest of the team fell asleep, Bokuto leaned back into the seat and entwined Akaashi’s free hand with his own, running a thumb along the back of the dark-haired boy's hand with a reverent and delicate touch. For the pair tucked away into the back row of a dark bus full of snoring boys, it may as well have been just the two of them against the world.
II.
Fluorescent lamp light illuminated the dark room shining on Akaashi’s absolute mess of a desk. After pulling back into a wide stretch, bloodshot eyes stared uncomprehendingly at the blinking clock barely registering the numbers glowing back at him. 4:07 AM.
4 AM came much faster than Akaashi recalled. His gaze turned back to his tablet and stared morosely at pages of half-finished panels. His gut tightened with panic. Less than 24 hours these pages are due…
A large hand interrupted his thoughts as a steaming cup of coffee appeared in front of him. Akaashi missed the sounds of tinkering coming from the kitchen, as the coffee had the characteristic heart of latte art that his husband had perfected over the years.
Bokuto’s hand ran along his tight shoulders with a reassuring squeeze before enveloping him in a backwards hug- one complete with his unique scent of home.
“G’morning, love,” his husband mumbled into his tousled hair. Akaashi takes off his glasses, sinking back into the familiar embrace. The tension knotting his stomach unraveled as Bokuto hummed contentedly.
“Good morning, Kou,” Akaashi replied after a long sip of coffee.
Lips pressed into his hair, making Akaashi’s heart flutter in his chest–even all these years later, before a final departing squeeze, “Back to it, Beautiful. I’ll get you when breakfast is ready.”
As Akaashi’s brow furrowed, Bokuto rushed to explain, “Just oatmeal, Keiji, I promise! With the fruit too, of course… But no oven this time!”
The dark-haired man settled back into his chair and stunned his husband with a small but brilliant smile, “Sounds perfect, Kou. Thank you.” The grey-haired man’s shocked face melted into pure adoration; he dove in for a quick but languid kiss before bolting for the kitchen.
The ungodly screeching that his husband called singing drifted into his study along with the sweet scent of breakfast, fueling his stylus that seemingly sang all on its own across the screen, filling empty panels with inspired flashes of ink.
Later that same day…
Chatter surrounded Akaashi as he drew. Fluorescent lights reflected off his screen protector, causing the man to scowl slightly as he worked. Less than 18 hours until his pages were due, his stylus moved seemingly faster, where he lost himself in the process of creation, until a deafening roar of the crowd jolted the brunette out of his head.
Kageyama settled into the bleachers beside him, pulling his hat low with a sigh. “They should be ready to go. I did not tell Bokuto-san you were here yet, so he is sulking,” Kageyama muttered to Akaashi. Immediately Akaashi straightened and tucked away his tablet, thoughts of deadlines and drafts dissipating in the electric atmosphere of the gymnasium.
Hype music reverberated through the gymnasium as black uniforms streaked across the gym. Hinata bounced on his feet, searching the crowd for Kageyama until his bright smile lit up the room. Akaashi pointedly ignored the red staining the stoic boy’s cheeks and the fiddling with the gold band on his finger.
No, Akaashi's focus was completely on the beautiful grey-haired boy. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Akaashi screamed out his husband's name. The same dejected husband who slouched across the floor until he finally heard him. The same man who came to life with pure joy in his expressive eyes, jumping, waving, pointing—causing the crowd to go wild.
The game was a triumphant success. The opposing team, a foreign opponent, did not hold a candle to the MSBY team, who played more impressively than their devoted fans had ever seen.
Each time his husband would make a point, especially with his signature line shot that troubled him so long ago, his bright eyes would find his beaming husband in the crowd.
A final spike to win the game featuring the combination of Sakusa and Atsumu had the pair embracing with a lingering kiss. The crowd went wild as the couple made their debut. Though Akaashi and Bokuto found each other still, almost lost within the waves of fans, it may have as well have been just the two of them against the world.
+
The car ride home from the celebration party was filled with Bokuto’s excited chatter. Akaashi listened with a small smile playing on his lips. His fingers itched for his tablet, filled with new inspiration. The deadline loomed in his mind, approximately 7 hours until the deadline.
However, his husband’s excitement was contagious, and Akaashi found himself relaxing despite his best efforts. And when the pair entered their shared home, Akaashi allowed himself to be pushed against the wall in a heated embrace, losing himself in the taste of his husband.
Pulling back, his husband let out a long whine. “One second, Kou. I need to send something, then I’m coming.”
“I’m coming with you,” Bokuto murmured, his lips finding purchase on Akaashi’s neck. With that lingering touch, the man had no words left to protest.
With a final button pushed by Akaashi’s shaking hands, as his lithe body quaked in his husband’s powerful embrace, the publisher received a fully filled, completed, and absolutely trivial filler episode.