It's been roughly three weeks since that fateful night when Akaashi was first half-persuaded/half-longingly agreed to watch Bokuto service himself. Well, actually 2 weeks 4 days and approximately 19 hours, but who's counting? And... they've shared roughly a half-dozen similar encounters since then. Though the last three times, as per Bokuto's persuasion and his own inability to simply make his erection disappear, Akaashi's nervously finished himself in front of his golden-eyed captain as well.

Again, not that anyone's counting.

And, it's now been 36 minutes and 14 seconds since he was led into Kōtarō's room and left there. 35 minutes and 28 seconds since he felt the plush folds of his captain's bed at his thighs as he took a seat. Yes, familiar as the Bokuto household may be to him, the young setter's grown a little restless. Though he's been to his senpai's house numerous times, despite his attempts to concentrate, his mind refuses to listen; ever wandering. He imagines his current mental state to be anything but healthy.

In his fleeting attempts at self-distraction, olive grey eyes glance about a somewhat clean room; subjective in this case as clean for Bokuto is far from what Keiji deems clean, but that's aside the point. It's decorated as always; in posters of different celebrities of the volleyball world, one of a cute idol girl in a flouncy skirt Bokuto fell for as a first year, before Keiji knew him. The tick of the owl clock on the far wall. Akaashi would describe it as somewhat doofy in appearance; golden eyes that move back and forth with each passing second, beak open as if the cartoonish creature were shouting... and for a moment... he can hear the small bird calling his name. Akaashi! It... kind of reminds him of Bokuto. The sliding door rolls open just as a stifled laugh breaks the underclassman's lips, brow broken in amusement, pink at his cheeks.

And there Bokuto stands. "Akaashi! Mom's-"

A less than stifled laugh as his partner says his name, in the same voice he'd just imagined from the cartoon owl on the far wall, with its ever-moving, piercing gaze.

Bokuto... is... slightly taken aback. The great white owl's eyes are wide with curiosity and excitement flutters in his chest until it paints his face in shining grin, though he finds the scene almost cute.

"Akaashi. What's so funny?"

A pause as he attempts to recompose himself. "Noth-" A pause. "Nothing, Bokuto-san."

Akaashi's forced from position as Bokuto's form joins him on the mattress, a pouty demeanour staining his previously grinning contours. "Come on! Tell me, Akaaaaaashi!"

Warmth fills his face at his senpai's proximity until it's all he can do but to hush the butterflies building in his stomach. "Nothing, Bokuto-san. What did your mother say?"

The captain's face spreads with bliss as his mind returns to prior thoughts and Keiji swears for just a moment, there's fucking sparkles amidst his senpai's golden eyes. "Aaaaah! Oh yeah! She's making yakiniku for dinner!"

The third year leans back on his arms on the bed, pure joy still painting his contours; eyes scrunched tight and legs lightly swinging against the wooden frame. "Meat. meat. meat." His voice is lower in volume but ever ripe with enthusiasm as he sing-songs to himself about what his dinner will be. The olive-eyed boy allows his gaze to linger on the curve of Bokuto's arms for a tad too long, startled back to reality by the tick of the owl clock -that's far too perfect a caricature of his senpai- on the far wall; feeling his ears tinge in warmth though his slim facial contours remain much the same.

"Ah. Bokuto-san. Did you turn in your graduation plans?"

Golden eyes shoot open and to the corner, the once-grin of his mouth a straight nervous line, ever built with worry.

"Bokuto-san."

The great horned owl further avoids the topic, pretending not to hear his underclassman.

"Coach has asked me about it three times now, since you seem to disappear whenever the idea occurs to him."

Further silence.

"But Akaashi! I can't help it!" Gold meets olive, set about a face that pleads mercy. "The advisor wouldn't accept that I'm going to play on the national team!"

"You have to write something realistic, Bokuto-san. Of course Sakurako-sensei isn't going to accept that as your plans." Words as flat as ever; unamused.

Suddenly, the ace owl looks broken. Oh, there it is. Yes. He shouldn't have said that. It was rude; slightly too directly rude for Bokuto-san.

"You have to write a back-up plan. Playing on the national team isn't guaranteed, Bokuto-san. They want you to choose a college or a field that you plan to go into."

"Aaaaagh." Keiji's jolted as the over-exaggerative captain flops back on the bed, grabbing at his dichromatic hairline.

Keiji almost regrets bringing it up. Clicking through the options in his mind, he settles on what he imagines to be the least destructive to their evening. "Just think on it, Bokuto-san."

And with that, the captain is suddenly more a puppy than an owl, plopping over on his side to look at Akaashi with the greatest of vigors.

"Akaashi-kun, thank you kindly for looking out for my son." Mrs. Bokuto, brow upturned in soft, grateful smile, bows her head lightly as the family -1 and yet, +1 enjoys their meal; Mr. Bokuto is working late this evening.

Normally, one would return the gesture by saying they've looked out for him in return, but there's no telling how far to Bokuto's head such a comment would go if Akaashi were to express so in front of his captain, and he's not certain it'd be entirely truthful either.

"Of course." A slight nod of a bow.

Though he could technically comment on how much Bokuto's done for him in regards to understanding his own sexuality, he feels the topic's best avoided.

Lovingly prepared meal under way, for once, normally so boisterous Bokuto, with his raucous voice and eyes like the sun -a sometimes really annoying sun-, is... quiet. Yes, save for the blissful MMM and AAAH here and there amidst some intermittent smacking sounds from the young ace, he... is quiet. Golden eyes sparkle and lips curl as each additional bite of his mother's culinary magic hits his tongue, whilst small talk is exchanged and bellies are filled and if this weren't Akaashi's seventy-somethingth time at the Bokuto household, he would have been astounded with the mountain of thinly sliced beef atop the table at the start of the meal -far disproportionate to the small array of brightly coloured vegetables, which looked more like a side than a portion of the same dish- and experienced even further shock with the mere shreds of meat left at the end of it - mostly per his captain's doing; the blissful look on the young ace's face tells all too well how pleased he is with the experience.

Their evening goes as it usually does when Akaashi stays over; both completely unexpected and familiar. They spend a decent chunk of time playing some idol-dating game, for which Akaashi constantly has to give Bokuto advice because he's not once been able to trigger the confession scene for his favourite girl; the situation only further brings Akaashi to recognise his impending doom: Bokuto will never understand. Also, Akaashi is nothing like this fictitious idol girl for whom his captain pines, much to his dismay.

Also much to his dread, the fact that the student council asked the Fukurodani Volleyball Club to run a food stand for the cultural festival and, Akaashi knows all too well that Bokuto + food doesn't exactly equal success. Though, reflecting on it, an actual performance event might have brought even greater suffering and headache to the setter; whether it be a song or choreographed dance, twirling in coordinated outfit whilst singing I'll always be there or something of the like isn't exactly his thing. In their discussion that evening -which is only mayhaps the 20th regarding the topic-, they plan for the upcoming cultural festival, which primarily deals with Bokuto asking begging/whining to do things with the club that the club surely can't afford; a yakitori stand, beef skewers stand, amongst a slew of other things they could never possibly pull-off. Plus, they wouldn't sell a single one if Kōtarō were in charge; Keiji knows far too well from the golden sparks in the great horned owl's eyes -in addition to his intense craving for all foods meaty and delectable-, that he'd swoop in like a true bird of prey and eat every last skewer before they could pass them onto customers. He'll speak with Konoha-san. They'll need to do something less extravagant they can make in large batches and relatively cheaply if they are to actually accomplish any selling.

The evening is finished off binge-watching one of Kōtarō's new-found favourite drama series -as his tastes are ever-changing-; a story about some girl who really wants to attend a particular, well-known fictitious all boys high school to play tennis so ends up matriculating as male. Akaashi's not particularly amused by the series; unrealistic in its entirety, but then again, so is Bokuto-san. Following this, they discuss lengthily their most recent practise match with Nekoma, commenting on everyone's performance and future tactics and Kōtarō says a few cheesy yet powerful lines about playing volleyball, which actually bring a slight curve to Akaashi's lips. Bokuto's face is like that of an excited puppy -lit up enthusiastically, rouge staining his cheeks-, upon noting that pale smile, but before he has a chance to comment on it, Akaashi excuses himself to bathe; maybe there, his heart can find refuge. He both craves and dreads such long personal periods with his captain; it's more than his heart can take.