Credit goes to: y-ye on Fanfiction.net
⚠️ slight lemon ⚠️
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Akaashi's narrowed eyes glance over at the only other teammate in the room, sighing silently through his nose. Bokuto had slipped into this funk towards the very end of the match and left no time to cheer him up with a good spike. To make it worse, it was their turn to finish cleaning up, so they ended up staying later than anyone else, trusted to lock up. Bokuto had sunken to the floor in front of his locker, forehead pressed to the cold metal.
"Bokuto-san..." He trailed off, unsure of how to continue even as Bokuto's head lifted slightly.
"Akaashi?" Yellow eyes met his own, and he swallowed harshly. There was something cute about a pouting Bokuto, and god, how he wished he hadn't noticed. He's been trying to power through this stupid crush for the better part of his first year, and was still going strong in his second year.
"Could you come over here, Bokuto-san?" What. What?
"Sure..." Bokuto mumbled, doing some sort of awkward shuffle-waddle thing until he was in front of Akaashi but still crouched down. Their eyes met again and Akaashi's mouth went dry. He reached forward with his left hand, unsure of what he was going to do as he started. Bokuto's hair was still damp from the shower and soft without the usual gel. Hand gripping the back of Bokuto's head, he slowly pulled him forward and his face was resting against Akaashi's stomach. "A-Akaashi?"
"Shh." He went silent, and Akaashi carefully catalogued this moment in his brain. Some hysterical part of him chattered about how he'd never have Bokuto this close to him ever again, and wasn't that sad? Carding his fingers through silver and black strands, he ignored it. He was savoured the illusion of trust has he counted their breaths as their lungs synced. This was enough. It would have to be. Minutes ticked past before Bokuto finally spoke up again, a new record.
"Why are we doing this, Akaashi?" Bokuto's voice was oddly soft as he asked that. When Akaashi took more than a second to speak, he looped an arm around his waist and looked up when Akaashi's abs tightened up.
"Because you're sulking, Bokuto-san." Bokuto whined at that, but didn't deny it. "And the stomach is my softest vital point. There's something to be said about resting on someone's vitals. The warmth makes things a little better." Bokuto nodded slowly at that.
"But why?" Akaashi shrugged before contemplating it through Bokuto's patient silence.
"This warmth is my life, Bokuto-san. Doesn't it feel good to lie against it? To have my trust that you won't take it away?" He detachedly noticed Bokuto's shoulders tensed, and that if this was a Ghibli movie, his hair would probably be rising in an unseen breeze.
"You shouldn't trust me like that," Bokuto told his abs, and he shivered at how he could feel those chapped lips through his shirt. "I can't even spike past our blockers properly. I'm not serious enough."
"You're plenty serious." Sometimes Bokuto needed you to be blatantly serious about your praise or he'd accidentally twist your words. "And it's my choice. Besides, doesn't it feel good?" He gently repeated, waiting for an answer.
"...Yes," Bokuto breathed into his stomach, and Akaashi tried not to laugh at how it tickled.
"Then stay for a bit. We can head back home later, and tomorrow you'll score for us."
Akaashi could have sworn he heard "For you." but it was too quiet to be sure. He smiled sadly because he knew Bokuto wouldn't see with his nose tucked into his stomach, and started running his hand back through Bokuto's hair.
