Thread by @Fawn_Eyed_Girl

#BokuAka fluff, humor, thirsty!Akaashi, Bo knows and nearly blows it, set to Kenny Chesney's "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy" for @Rokuwhitefox

Akaashi doesn’t think that Kōtarō knows that he’s watching.

He doesn’t think that Kōtarō sees the way that his eyes widen

when Kōtarō arches his back as he goes up for a spike. He doesn’t think that Kōtarō hears the sharp intake of breath when his hand hits the ball. He doesn’t think that Kōtarō sees the slight flush of Akaashi’s ears when his shorts ride up and reveal that sliver of skin.

He doesn’t think that Kōtarō sees any of this.
But Kōtarō sees it. He sees it all. And he loves it.
Because he watches Akaashi all the time, too.

He watches the way that Akaashi’s sharp, steely blue eyes take in the court. He watches the way that Akaashi’s mouth moves

as he calls for Kōtarō to get the ball. He watches the way that Akaashi’s quads flex when he dashes across the court and dives for a spike.

From the day of their first practice together, nearly two years ago, Kōtarō has watched Akaashi, has yearned for Akaashi.

And if it’s possible that Akaashi watches him, yearns for him, too…

It’s after practice when Kōtarō decides to see if Akaashi’s really watching as closely as he thinks.

“Akaashi?” he calls; Akaashi’s putting away the extra balls from practice. Konoha and Washio are sweeping,

and Sarukui and Komi are chatting with Yukie and Kaori before they all head out. At his shout, everyone’s eyes slowly swivel over to Akaashi, who freezes, a hint of red creeping up the back of his neck and tucking in amongst his dark curls.

It’s only a second, but it’s enough

for Kōtarō, and he can’t help the grin that crosses his face.

“Y—yes, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi doesn’t move; he’s gripping the ball that he’s holding so tightly Kōtarō’s afraid that it might burst. “What can I do for you?”

Kōtarō lets out a little laugh. “Ah, well,” he says,

and crosses the court to stand closer. He enjoys the way Akaashi’s blush now blossoms across his cheeks, too. It’s really cute. “I was hoping you’d stay after with me for a bit to practice spikes?”

“Oh, here we go,” he hears Konoha mutter. “Shh!” Washio elbows him. “Wanna hear.”

Kōtarō shoots them an I’m-the-captain-I-can-do-what-I-want look, and everyone goes back to what they were doing (supposedly; Kōtarō can still feel their eyes). “What’dya say, ‘Kaashi?” he asks again. “Will you stay?”

Akaashi clears his throat; it looks like his arms are shaking

as he sets the ball in the basket. “I—I always stay, Bokuto-san,” he replies after a moment. “You don’t need to ask.”

“Aw, but I wanted to!” Kōtarō shouts. He slings an arm over Akaashi’s shoulder; he doesn’t miss the way that Akaashi’s eyes drop to examine Kōtarō’s forearm,

which is hanging over his chest. Kōtarō pulls him in closer, hears that sharp intake of breath he’s started to expect to hear from Akaashi whenever Kōtarō gets close. “Come on,” he adds, tugging Akaashi away from the basket. “I’ll help you with that later. Let’s do some tosses!”

“Here they go,” Sarukui says.

“Don’t be here all night, you two!” Kaori calls. “Unless you’re having fun, of course—hey!” Yukie adds, then exclaims when Komi elbows her.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Bokuto, Akaashi,” Komi says. “Come on,” he hisses to Sarukui and the girls.

“They’re gonna be here for hours.”

“But I wanna know if I win!” Kōtarō hears Yukie whisper.

“You’ll know tomorrow,” Kaori replies; Kōtarō sees her take Yukie by the arm and steer her towards the gym doors. “Akaashi,” she adds, and Akaashi freezes again and Kaori’s directness.

“Don’t forget to lock up!”

“Yeah,” Konoha jumps in. “You’re the one we trust, after all.”

“Hey, hey!” Kōtarō protests. “I’m trustworthy!”

But everyone laughs, waves, and says their goodnights, ignoring Kōtarō, which…

Given what he’s about to do, maybe they should doubt him.

Because maybe he’s going to be just a little bit tricksy.
After a moment, the gym doors bang shut; they’re alone, and Akaashi won’t meet his gaze. He’s red—so very red—and Kōtarō can feel the grin creeping back across his lips.

/He thinks the way I play volleyball is sexy./ Kōtarō’s sure of it. /Now, if I can just get him to admit it…/

“Akaashi?” Kōtarō says, and Akaashi jumps again. “Ready?” He grabs a ball out of the basket, turns, and jogs towards the back of the court, making sure

that Akaashi gets a full view of him from the back.

He’s pretty sure he can hear Akaashi’s heart beating from all the way back there.

He turns around, and sure enough, Akaashi’s red, and blinking, and staring openly at Kōtarō’s legs.

“Ready, ‘Kaashi?” he grins, and Akaashi gasps, then nods rapidly. Kōtarō can see him trying to pull himself together. “Then here we go!” He tosses the ball to Akaashi, whose face shifts instantly into business mode. He gets under the ball, raises his hands—those beautiful,

perfect hands with the long, slender fingers—and sets the ball.

“Bokuto-san!” he calls, but Kōtarō’s already sprinting towards it.

He positions himself, plants his feet, then jumps…

At the apex of his jump, he hears a whoosh of breath from Akaashi, one that makes him preen

as he spikes the ball over the net.

He lands neatly on his feet, right into a squat that reveals a little more of his thighs than usual.

“Didya see that, Akaashi?” he exclaims. “Your set was perfect! I really slammed it home!”

But Akaashi’s too busy stammering and staring

to reply. He’s still bright red, and he’s not looking Kōtarō in the face.

Kōtarō’s nearly just as speechless. He’s never seen Akaashi so…

Well, Akaashi never stammers. He never stares. And Kōtarō’s never seen him blush so much!

“Akaashi!” Kōtarō takes a step towards him.

“You okay?”

He watches Akaashi take a deep gulp, his Adam’s apple bulging with the swallow. “I—I’m fine,” he says at last, cracking his neck and twisting his fingers. “Let’s go again.”

Kōtarō wants to respond, but Akaashi quite frankly looks both terrified and terrifying,

so Kōtarō’s going to be quiet for now and enjoy making Akaashi absolutely crazy.

On and on they play—probably for hours, Kōtarō’s really not sure—and Akaashi’s clearly struggling to hold himself together. He keeps lifting a hand to fan himself; he’s sweating more than usual,

his dark curls sticking to his forehead. He looks adorably flustered, and Kōtarō is enjoying Akaashi’s gaping stare immensely.

Kōtarō decides to push things a little further, to test his theory a bit more.

He offers Akaashi a wry grin. “It’s sure hot in here tonight, isn’t it?"

he says, grabbing at the hem of his practice jersey. He pulls it up, revealing what he knows is a solid slab of stomach muscles, and wipes his forehead with his shirt.

Akaashi lets out a tiny, strangled gasp.

Kōtarō drops his shirt and wipes his hands on the fabric.

“Ready, ‘Kaashi?” he calls, grabbing the nearest ball. He sees Akaashi school his face, try to stay calm. Kōtarō tosses him the ball; Akaashi gets under it as Kōtarō braces for his set.

He squats a little; Akaashi stares, and then…
The ball smacks him hard, right in the face.

Akaashi yelps, covers his face with his hands, and drops to the ground.

“Akaashi!” Kōtarō’s running then; he’s at Akaashi’s side in seconds. His heart is hammering; his hands are shaking.

Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit…

“‘Kaashi?” Kōtarō’s trying to pull at Akashi’s hands, but dammit, Akaashi’s stronger than he looks and Kōtarō can’t peel them away. The panic is starting to rise in his chest.

What if he hurt Akaashi? What if his stupid plan got the better of them both, and Akaashi’s hurt,

and oh, fuck, what if Akaashi can’t play volleyball ever again?

What if he can’t breathe, can’t see? All because…what? Kōtarō knew that Akaashi thinks he’s hot, and Kōtarō had to push him a little, tease him a little?

/Stay calm, Kōtarō. You have to stay calm./

“Keiji?” Kōtarō’s never used Akaashi’s name before, but he needs to see how bad the damage is, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get Akaashi to listen. “Keiji, I’m so sorry! Can you please let me see how bad it is?”

At this, Akaashi almost drops his hands; Kōtarō can see him

begin to move them, then stop, and shake his head.

“Keiji!” Kōtarō’s wailing; he can’t believe Akaashi’s so injured he can’t even show Kōtarō! What did he do? How could he have been so stupid? All because of Kōtarō’s own stupid ego?

“Keiji, please, I’m so sorry!” Kōtarō’s

on his knees now, his head dropping onto Akaashi’s shoulder. He’s crying now—fast, hot, big tears. He must look ridiculous. He doesn’t even care. “I’m so sorry I distracted you! I’m sorry you think I’m sexy and I know you think I’m sexy and that I wanted to tease you a little!

I’m sorry I wanted to see how sexy I could be for you! I’m sorry…”

“Bo—Bokuto-san.” Akaashi raises his hand; Kōtarō chances a peek up. Akaashi moves his hands, and Kōtarō can see he’s got the beginning of a black eye.

/I’ve ruined him. I’ve ruined his pretty, perfect face!/

Kōtarō can barely breathe; he’s frantically trying to remember what he learned in basic first aid (which everyone was required to take upon joining the club).

Ice. Ice! Or something cold. Something…

He’s operating solely on instinct at this point; he scoops Akaashi up

into his arms, Akaashi protesting feebly, and rushes towards the locker room. Kōtarō finds that he can lift him easily, despite his long limbs. Akaashi shivers at his touch, and Kōtarō lets out a gasp.

/Cold. He’s cold! He’s going into shock!/
Hurry. Kōtarō has to hurry.

He reaches the locker room quickly and kicks open the door before barreling inside, looking around, panting as he tries to catch his breath.

“Bo—Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says; another shiver wracks him, and he clutches at Kōtarō, but Kōtarō sets him down on the nearest bench.

His head shoots up; he looks around for supplies.

Towel to keep Akaashi warm. Cold washcloth for Akaashi’s eye.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says again, but Kōtarō’s already off, dashing around the locker room. He finds two towels strewn on other benches, which he runs back to toss

over Akaashi—who’s looking at him dazedly and Kōtarō is now worried that Akaashi has a head injury, too!

He drags a small towel out of Akaashi’s locker and wets it under the sink, waiting until the terrycloth is nice and cold. When he returns to the changing room, though,

he sees that Akaashi has placed the towels to the side, and is sitting up, his head in his hands, groaning a little from the pain.

“Akaashi!” he shouts, and Akaashi jumps. “Why aren’t you under the towels? You have to stay warm or you’re going to go more into shock!”

Akaashi looks up; his eye is purpling up around the bridge of his nose. Kōtarō lets out a terrified squeak, and he pushes the dripping towel at Akaashi.

“Bo—Bokuto-sa—” Akaashi starts.

“It’s for your eye, ‘Kaashi!” Kōtarō is still yelling, right in Akaashi’s face,

but he’s so scared that Akaashi is gonna be too hurt to play volleyball—too hurt to see, to do anything, to go to school, to hang out with Kōtarō—he can’t help but be loud.

Akaashi, though, doesn’t jump this time, or shy away.

Instead, Akaashi reaches out, takes the towel, and, holding it up to his eye, Akaashi laughs.

Kōtarō’s mouth drops open. “A—Akaashi?” he asks weakly. What is he…why is he…

The corners of Akaashi’s mouth are just visible under the towel, and they quirk upwards.

“I guess you didn’t expect our practice to end this way, huh?” he says ruefully, and Kōtarō can feel his heart pounding as Akaashi looks at him with his one good eye—his one beautiful, steely blue eye that sets Kōtarō’s heart ablaze. “I—I guess I got a little distracted, is all.”

Akaashi drops his head. “I’m sorry, Bokuto-san. I wasn’t at my best today.”

“Akaashi.” Kōtarō drops onto the bench beside him, adjusts the towel so it’s nestled more snugly against Akaashi’s eye. “You’re always at your best.” His heart, which was on fire just seconds ago,

is in danger of breaking now. Because he let Akaashi down. He made Akaashi feel as though he was not at his best, when it was he, Kōtarō, who was not living up to expectations.

All because he let himself get carried away with those good—great!—feelings of Akaashi thinking

that the way he plays volleyball is sexy.

“Bo—Bokuto-san?” Akaashi’s hand, ever so tentatively, reaches out and holds onto Kōtarō’s bicep. “Are you—are you okay?”

Kōtarō lets out a little groan, because how can he ever be okay again? When he hurt his Akaashi?
He hurt…his…

“I—I’m fine, ‘Kaashi,” he moans. “But you’re injured!”

“It’s just a black eye, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi explains, quite reasonably for someone with a soaking wet towel pressed against their eye. “It will heal in no time.” Kōtarō whimpers, looks away.

“Hey.” Akaashi increases the pressure on Kōtarō’s arm. “I promise,” Akaashi adds in a whisper, “everything is okay, and tomorrow I’ll be here at practice with you. Just wait and see.”

“But how can I be at practice with you?” Kōtarō wails. Akaashi’s being so good, so kind,

even though Kōtarō was such an idiot?

And then, Akaashi chuckles again! “In case you haven’t noticed,” Akaashi says, and is that a blush on the one cheek Kōtarō can see? “I rather like being at practice with you.”

“Good!” Kōtarō exclaims. “Because I like being at practice with you, too!”

Akaashi’s laugh is warm, and it fills Kōtarō with a comfort that begins in his chest and floats lazily throughout his body, a blanket slowly covering him. “I’m glad you feel that way,” Akaashi says then,

then winces when he tries to laugh again.

“Akaashi!” Kōtarō leans in close. He feels so bad, so fucking bad, and anything he can do to help, he wants to do. “Can I see how it looks now?”

The faintest of blushes is back on Akaashi’s cheek; wordlessly, he nods,

and moves the towel away.

Kōtarō inspects Akaashi’s eye. It’s definitely purple, and he’s pretty sure it’s going to turn a nice shade of blue and maybe black overnight. He shifts his gaze to Akaashi’s eye, which is a startling blue (more green now that Kōtarō’s up close,

as opposed to the gray color he always assumed they were!). There’s a fluttering of eyelashes, and it matches the fluttering in Kōtarō’s heart.

“A—Keiji?” he whispers.

“How does it look?” Akaashi whispers back, and Kōtarō’s pretty sure that he has absolutely no idea

what Akaashi’s talking about anymore. How what looks? His eyes? They’re shimmering, a vibrant blue, and yup, Kōtarō’s sure now there’s something resembling green in there, too. Not gray. Green. Surely Akaashi can’t be referencing his eyes, though…can he?

When his eyes are…

“How—how does what look?” he stammers.

Akaashi huffs this time, but there’s no heat in the sound; it’s all warm and affectionate, and Kōtarō’s heart is soaring. “My eye, Bokuto-san,” he says patiently. “How does my eye look?”

Kōtarō frowns a little. His eye? How does his eye…

Oh! Yes. The black and blue and purple. Yes. It’s looking bad. Very bad.

“You’re gonna have a shiner, ‘Kaashi,” Kōtarō murmurs.

“So much for my good looks,” Akaashi jokes.

Kōtarō can’t help it; he reaches up, cups Akaashi’s cheek gently. Akaashi leans into his touch,

just the slightest bit, and shivers again. “Nah,” Kōtarō says, kind of blankly. “It just gives you a hardened, sexy bad boy look, ‘Kaashi. Just like…” He sucks in a breath. Akaashi’s skin is warm under his palm; Akaashi’s eyes are burning under his gaze.

“Sexy bad boy, huh?” There’s the soft huff again; Kōtarō really likes it. “Do you like sexy bad boys, Bokuto-san?”

“Maybe.” Akaashi’s flirting now; Kōtarō’s sure of it. He’s fighting back a blush of his own as he tries to stay cool. “Or maybe I just like you.”

“So much that you decided to see if you could distract me today?” Now Akaashi’s chuckling, his smile crinkling up the corners of his eyes in a really adorable way. He lets out a little gasp. “Ow,” he says. “Guess I’m not quite ready for laughing.”

“Keiji,” Kōtarō breathes,

but Akaashi reaches up and cups Kōtarō’s cheek in return.

“Hey,” he says softly. “We’ll have none of that. I’m okay—or at least, I will be, sooner than you can spell ‘subsequently.’”

“You know I can’t spell that,” Kōtarō frowns.

“I’m willing to give you a few tries to get it right,” Akaashi replies; his palm is drawing back to his body, Kōtarō following.

“I think I might need at least three,” Kōtarō says. “Tries, that is.”

“You can have as many as you like,” Akaashi murmurs, bringing Kōtarō closer.

He feels his body crossing the distance; he feels his other hand reach up and wrap around Akaashi’s shoulder, sliding them even closer together. There’s a long, fraught moment where they gaze at each other; Akaashi is so beautiful, so perfect—

Kōtarō’s words were right and there won’t ever be another—

And then, just like that, a pair of petal-pink, slightly chapped lips are pressing against his. They’re lips—Akaashi’s lips—and they’re soft, and taste a little bit of citrus, and a lot of Akaashi Keiji.

Kōtarō hesitates for a moment, gathering his strength, and then, he dives in.

He’s not the most practiced of kissers out there. Sure, he and Kuroo had tried out some techniques, trying to perfect the art of kissing—but then, Kuroo finally got his head out of his ass

and just tried out his techniques on Kenma, like he was supposed to, and Kōtarō tried out his techniques on a few people, but really, he’d just been trying to build up the nerve for this moment to use them, here, and now.

Kissing Akaashi Keiji. Kōtarō is kissing Akaashi Keiji.

And Akaashi Keiji is kissing him back.

He’s careful to avoid contact anywhere near Akaashi’s eye, but it doesn’t matter. He feels so good, Akaashi does, pressed up close to him, fingers running down the length of Kōtarō’s spine and back up again, making him the one

who’s now shivering. Akaashi moves his lips with confidence, rubbing them against Kōtarō’s, his tongue playing with the seam of Kōtarō’s lips. It’s chaste, yes, but it’s still the hottest thing Kōtarō has ever experienced in his life (thus far), and he has to fight the urge

to press Akaashi back down onto the bench and devour him, one delicious body part at a time.

And then, Kōtarō opens his mouth. Akaashi dives in, and it’s over.

Akaashi’s chest vibrates with pleasure, and his tongue licks into Kōtarō’s mouth, tracing the lines of his teeth,

his palate, his own tongue. It’s hot, so hot, and Kōtarō doesn’t know if he can take much more. Not here, not in the locker room, not when Akaashi’s got a black eye and he needs care, but Kōtarō also kind of wants to kiss every single inch of his body as part of that care.

“Akaashi,” he says, but Akaashi just huffs and kisses him some more. Kōtarō can feel the warmth blooming from his chest throughout his body. “Keiji,” he says, and this time, Akaashi growls (like, actually growls! It’s so hot!), but pushes away just a bit.

“I’ve gotta get you home,” Kōtarō says, kind of lamely since they’ve just been making out in the locker room and, what the fuck, he really doesn’t want to stop. “You need to get ice on that eye, and you need to rest.” Akaashi makes a disgruntled sound, but allows Kōtarō to rise,

then to pull Akaashi to his feet.

“Come on,” he says, taking Akaashi by the hand. “Let’s go.”

“My mother will be upset when she sees this,” Akaashi replies, waving his free hand at his eye, and Kōtarō’s eyes widen.

“She will?” he yelps. “Do you think she’s gonna tell you

that you can’t play volleyball anymore? That you can’t see me anymore? Because, ‘Kaashi,” he adds in a panic; oh, how his heart is beating now, “I just kissed you. Like, a lot. I don’t think I can ever stop kissing you, now that I’ve started. Because I really like kissing you,

and I hope you really like kissing me, even when you don’t have a black eye?”

Akaashi laughs then, and it’s bright, and sparkling, and Kōtarō wants to bathe in it. “Bokuto-san,” he says, and his voice is awfully light and teasing for someone whose eye socket is basically purple,

“do you think I’m only kissing you because I have a black eye?”

Kōtarō’s mouth drops open, but Akaashi laughs some more, before reaching up to press a kiss to Kōtarō’s lower lip. “I’m kidding, Kōtarō,” he murmurs. “And for what it’s worth, I really like kissing you, too.”

“You do?” Kōtarō can’t help but ask.

“Yes,” Akaashi replies, now kissing him fully. He breaks the kiss; his eyes, even the black-and-blue one, are deep and dark.

“After all, if I think the way you play volleyball is sexy, you must know that I think you’re pretty sexy, too.”

--Fin!--

I didn't quite follow the song for this one, but I had this thought of "What if Akaashi thinks Bo is sexy when he plays volleyball?" followed by, "What if Bo KNOWS it, too?" and shenanigans ensue, and...this story was born 😅🥰💕

Song link: open.spotify.com/track/3QV7NYkr…