Cuddles «ʙᴏᴋᴜᴀᴋᴀ»

𝚂𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙

« ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟᴇs» 

Akaashi Keiji nearly growled as he glared at his phone, reading the email a certain Udai Tenma sent him saying the manuscript wasn't finished yet. Apparently the manga artist needed more time. He had half a mind not to smash his phone into smithereens in frustration. The manga artist's deadline was on Wednesday… last week. It was Thursday. 

More time, he says. Keiji thought grouchily. As if I hadn't given him another week to finish up already.

He grumbled under his breath as he pocketed his phone, slamming the door to his apartment shut and dumping his bag on the floor. Keiji was done with Udai Tenma. He was so done. He hadn't had a wink of sleep since last week after promptly yelling at his charge to finish his manuscript and calling to apologize to the print agency while simultaneously begging for an extension; his eyes were barely open as he stumbled towards the general direction of his couch after slipping off his shoes. He cursed as he stubbed his toe against the leg of the coffee table—was that always there? He swore it was more to the left—and unceremoniously fell on the couch, face-first. 

He slumped tiredly on the couch, eyes closed, hoping to catch a wink of sleep. He didn't care that he still had his coat on, he didn't care that his bedroom was just a few feet away; as long as he got to sleep ASAP he was fine and the couch was just so soft and inviting. Thankfully, he had nothing important to do; the print agency had begrudgingly agreed to the extension after his incessant pleading for three days straight—Keiji mentally patted himself on the back for having the forethought of advancing Udai's deadline at least a week or two in advance for this volume—and chewing out Udai only took him a fourth of how long it usually took. 

Just as he was about to let sweet, sweet sleep take over, he heard a familiar set of footsteps outside. Keiji turned his head to the side so he wouldn't suffocate and would have groaned in frustration if he had the energy to do so. He could just vaguely hear the familiar yet annoying squawking in his head as the footsteps halted outside his apartment door. He waited with bated breath, hoping that the person outside his door would turn around and go away. He didn't hate his hopefully-will-turn-around guest—on the contrary, he loved the idiot—but he wanted to sleep and having that man around would be counterproductive. 

Seconds turned into minutes and Keiji melted into the couch; he could finally sleep with no distractions, but, of course, fate liked to toy with him. 

"AKAAAASHI!" Bokuto Koutaro squawked outside the door, banging a heavy hand against it. "AKAAAASHI, OPEN UP!" 

Keiji waited it out. Maybe if he stayed quiet Bokuto would leave him alone. He could really use some sleep and hopefully Bokuto could get the hint, but this was the Bokuto Koutaro outside his door; the man wouldn't get the hint even if it came as a 30,000 pound truck and hit him head on. 

Keiji heard a muffled huff. Whether it was in frustration, annoyance, or surrender; Keiji didn't know, but, hopefully, it would be the latter. 

He probably jinxed it the moment the thought went into his head, but the next thing he knew the door burst open and Bokuto Koutaro had bounded into the humble apartment, then proceeded to jump on the couch. Right on top of Keiji. If getting flattened and having the breath knocked out of him wasn't a sign he jinxed it, then Bokuto yelling into his ear definitely was. 

Bokuto grinned widely as he snuggled closer to Keiji's limp body. Don't worry, he wasn't dead… yet. "Akaashi, why didn't you answer the door? I had to use the spare key to get in." Keiji could just hear the pout in Bokuto's voice. 

"Bokuto-san, please get off of me," Keiji managed to slur through his fatigue, his voice muffled by the cushions. He tried feebly to push Bokuto off him. Futile attempts, really, he knew, but it didn't hurt to try. Also, why in the world would he, in his right mind, give Bokuto—a man who raided Sawamura Daichi's place along with Kuroo Tetsurou and Oikawa Tooru for a Dorito emergency—a spare key to his apartment?