[ Saturday afternoon finds Kuroo with a lapful of Akaashi Keiji, and frankly, he's not complaining.
-
Hold on, back up a bit.
-
It starts simply enough — Bokuto is the Fukurodani Volleyball Club team captain, but he's also not in the advanced prep classes, which means that the paperwork that comes with captaincy falls onto someone else whenever Bokuto makes up for his failed tests. That person, of course, is Akaashi - and even if Akaashi's never attended a single Tokyo High School Volleyball Club Association (he has perfect attendance), the fact that no one else on the team is as efficient as the setter leaves the hierarchy of responsibility clear within the team.
In today's case, also outside of it. Theoretically, they're sorting through the requisites for setting up the next training camp - they have forms to fill out, risk assessments to dole out to participating teams, parental permission slips to check and recheck (and triple-check), and respective school-allotted budgets to patch together to see if they can afford a cook-out without having to dip into club savings. It's tough work.
The reality, though, is they're peer reviewing for tests instead. Kuroo has an advantage with the sciences and Akaashi has a skill with languages, so they're trading off notes, checking each other's work for errors in between rapid-fire texting to their volleyball peers. Kuroo's own phone hasn't stopped blowing up, mostly because of Bokuto checking in every five minutes.
-
No, really:
FROM: BROKUTO (3:46 PM) [hoot-owl.gif]
FROM: BROKUTO (3:49 PM) [9gag-catz.gif]
FROM: BROKUTO (3:53 PM) [screencap of a text thread with hinata shoyo]
It's around half-past four in when they take a break. There's a wide spread of worksheets and notes across Kuroo's bedroom floor, the mess having crawled its way up to the foot of his bed. His physics textbook is open on the introductory chapters to velocity, while Akaashi's neat handwriting borders Kuroo's kanji worksheets in precise rendering.
Kuroo's shirt is trapped under Akaashi's knee, having been long shucked off due to the oppressive summer heat, and the faint taste of artificial sweetener on his tongue where he'd tasted it off Akaashi's finger.
-
It started with a fumble. A cliched stroke of happenstance, where Kuroo's gnawed his way through the tip of a pen enough for the ink to dot on his lip. Akaashi had reached out, whether to point at it or to wipe it off completely Kuroo isn't sure. What he's sure of is that he wasn't thinking, when he caught the outstretched finger between his teeth, tonguing on the pad of it as lips close around the knuckle, and he's still thinking nothing of it until Akaashi makes a sound and Kuroo realizes—
Oh.
Oh shit.
-
Most people don't suck their close friends' best friends' fingers.
Do they?
-
He can't even play it off as assuming Akaashi had offered up a Pocky stick, not when the opened carton is on his side of the floor. Kuroo (does have a death wish, apparently, and) gives Akaashi's finger one last suck before ducking his head.
—And then, somehow, he's on his back, Akaashi leaning over him with that Look on his face, and there isn't any air left in his room to breathe in. ]
For the record, before you kill me — and I actually mean it this time — I wasn't really thinking.
idek i'm sorry it went places LET ME KNOW IF THIS IS OKAY
-
Hold on, back up a bit.
-
It starts simply enough — Bokuto is the Fukurodani Volleyball Club team captain, but he's also not in the advanced prep classes, which means that the paperwork that comes with captaincy falls onto someone else whenever Bokuto makes up for his failed tests. That person, of course, is Akaashi - and even if Akaashi's never attended a single Tokyo High School Volleyball Club Association (he has perfect attendance), the fact that no one else on the team is as efficient as the setter leaves the hierarchy of responsibility clear within the team.
In today's case, also outside of it. Theoretically, they're sorting through the requisites for setting up the next training camp - they have forms to fill out, risk assessments to dole out to participating teams, parental permission slips to check and recheck (and triple-check), and respective school-allotted budgets to patch together to see if they can afford a cook-out without having to dip into club savings. It's tough work.
The reality, though, is they're peer reviewing for tests instead. Kuroo has an advantage with the sciences and Akaashi has a skill with languages, so they're trading off notes, checking each other's work for errors in between rapid-fire texting to their volleyball peers. Kuroo's own phone hasn't stopped blowing up, mostly because of Bokuto checking in every five minutes.
-
No, really:
FROM: BROKUTO (3:46 PM)
[hoot-owl.gif]
FROM: BROKUTO (3:49 PM)
[9gag-catz.gif]
FROM: BROKUTO (3:53 PM)
[screencap of a text thread with hinata shoyo]
FROM: BROKUTO (3:58 PM)
[blurry selfie (apparently bokuto's running laps again)]
-
It's around half-past four in when they take a break. There's a wide spread of worksheets and notes across Kuroo's bedroom floor, the mess having crawled its way up to the foot of his bed. His physics textbook is open on the introductory chapters to velocity, while Akaashi's neat handwriting borders Kuroo's kanji worksheets in precise rendering.
Kuroo's shirt is trapped under Akaashi's knee, having been long shucked off due to the oppressive summer heat, and the faint taste of artificial sweetener on his tongue where he'd tasted it off Akaashi's finger.
-
It started with a fumble. A cliched stroke of happenstance, where Kuroo's gnawed his way through the tip of a pen enough for the ink to dot on his lip. Akaashi had reached out, whether to point at it or to wipe it off completely Kuroo isn't sure. What he's sure of is that he wasn't thinking, when he caught the outstretched finger between his teeth, tonguing on the pad of it as lips close around the knuckle, and he's still thinking nothing of it until Akaashi makes a sound and Kuroo realizes—
Oh.
Oh shit.
-
Most people don't suck their close friends' best friends' fingers.
Do they?
-
He can't even play it off as assuming Akaashi had offered up a Pocky stick, not when the opened carton is on his side of the floor. Kuroo (does have a death wish, apparently, and) gives Akaashi's finger one last suck before ducking his head.
—And then, somehow, he's on his back, Akaashi leaning over him with that Look on his face, and there isn't any air left in his room to breathe in. ]
For the record, before you kill me — and I actually mean it this time — I wasn't really thinking.