"Yah! Get back here you crazy bird, half of this is yours to sort through!"
"I-I'm just running to the bathroom!" Bokuto calls, already halfway down the hallway. He's praying Kuroo is too far into all of the papers they dumped from their filing cabinet to chase after him. He should have taken the stairs, but the bathrooms are closer to the elevator, so it makes his excuse much more plausible.
The elevator 'Ding' outs him.
Bokuto hears another yell from Kuroo and papers rustling, but he's too late. The elevator doors are already closing around him. Safe.
Then he hears pounding on the elevator doors, "you dumbass, at least go somewhere if you're using the elevator as an escape." Kuroo is pounding on the doors. Doesn't he know all he has to so it push the down button and the doors will open?
Of course, all Bokuto has to do is hit a button as well and he'll be in actual safety. It's too early for Kuroo to run down at least two flights of stairs.
It's dumb versus dumber.
"Yah, open this door right now!"
"You can't make me!"
Even with a two large metal doors in between them, it seems the two share the same brain. It's as if the elevator buttons just now appeared.
"Don't you-"
"-dare push-"
Ding.
"You better be back in an hour!" Bokuto hears Kuroo through the doors as he feels the elevator descend. "Then I get my break."
Bokuto slumps against the back wall and heaves a huge sigh. He wasn't planning on running away the whole day, but he definitely wants to talk to someone about this audit thing. Why hadn't the others mentioned it before? Yaku? Daichi? Nishinoya? Didn't they just have drinks together last night? No one thought it would be helpful to mention the supposed hell they all had to go through?
He looks at the number 2 lit above the elevator doors. So that's where he's going. Any floor is better than the third floor at this point. He'll have to thank whoever pushed the button, unknowingly saving the salt-and-pepper haired boy. Probably Yaku taking a smoke break. Or maybe Daichi or Sugawara visiting Asahi.
The box stops and the doors announce yet again another stop.
The doors open and Bokuto is ready bless whoever on the second floor saved his life. A bro hug is the perfect gift. Bokuto's hugs are the best, after all.
But instead of Yaku, cigarette already hanging from his lips, or Daichi, stack of papers under his arm, it's someone Bokuto has never seen before.
Instead of coming face to face with wide, unsuspecting eyes (because, really, who isn't surprised when there's suddenly a person right in your face) Bokuto is met with half-lidded eyes, almost as if he expected someone like Bokuto to jump out at any moment.
He's shorter than Bokuto, leaner, smaller all around, but his forearms (the only skin Bokuto has the pleasure of seeing) give away there's more to him than just skin and bones. He can see the muscle in his forearm tighten around the file folders he's carrying, though. Ah, so he is a little surprised, then.
His skin is fair, but that could be his dark charcoal suit playing with Bokuto's eyes. The suit matched with almost pitch black eyes would make anything shine, he guesses. He doesn't linger on his eyes long, mostly because the shorter boy shifts his gaze low and to the side, to avoid Bokuto's piercing stare. Still, no sign of surprise, just that forearm...
But his hair.
It looks so. Damn. Soft. The color matches his eyes perfectly. It's shorter than Bokuto's, probably about Yaku's length. But where Yaku's hair has always reminded Bokuto of coarse hay that horses would eat, this guy's hair is the opposite. It's fine, silky, just so soft. There's a shift when he lowers his gaze away from Bokuto. Had it been Bokuto or Kuroo's fat heads, their hair would have given little movement. But this guy's hair moves like wheat being blown gently by a summer breeze. Okay, Bokuto knows wheat and hay are similar in texture, but he's having trouble thinking straight.
"Do I have something in my hair?" The voice is low in tone and energy. But when Bokuto sees that same muscular forearm run a hand through his hair he's drawn to the hair again. Seeing how easily it moves through one's fingers. Bokuto thinks he might like to feel how easy it would be... how the ends slightly fray, but there's still thickness at the roots, it reminds Bokuto of...
Feathers.
"Can I help you?" This time Bokuto hears annoyance in his voice.
"I don't know, can you?" Bokuto feels as cheesy as Kuroo, but there's something about this guy that just brings out the worst (best) in Bokuto's game. Well, staring blatantly at a guy for the better part of a minute, fantasizing about his hair right in front of him, and thinking of the worst (best) metaphors he can come up is not quite Bokuto's game, but it'll do.
"I'm sure I can't."
"Well then maybe I can help you! Are you lost? I think I'd remember such a nice face around the office." The smaller man's eyes travel from one side to the other. Making a small pit stop at the top of his lids. Even his eye rolls are apathetic.
"Sure you can help me."
"Really!? Anything, you name it."
"You can get out of my way."
"Oh." Bokuto realizes the elevator doors have been trying to close, but Bokuto is standing right in the middle of the doorway, causing the doors to shake and back track violently every time they think it's time to close. "Heh, sorry about that."
Bokuto moves to the side, still blocking the doors with his arm so the shorter man can pass. "But really, you lost? There's not many people I don't know that come to our office. I'm Bokuto Koutaro, by the way. Marketing, sales, advertising, you know all the fun stuff."
"I'm not lost." Bokuto's eyes widen at the badge the stranger flashes at the elevator to give him access to the basement, the docking lot. How had he not thought of this before. The one piece of news that had ruined his whole morning, his whole day, is standing right in front of him. The badge has a picture of the guy standing in front of him, with the name AKAASHI, K., printed under it.
"I'm Akaashi Keiji. Internal audit, you know, all the boring stuff."
Before the elevator doors close completely Bokuto sees the smallest hint of a smirk grace those pretty lips he didn't have enough time to think of cheesy metaphors for.
Maybe being audited won't be all that bad.
AN: This is turning out to be longer than I anticipated. Buckle up, kids.
