Work Text:
From Koutarou
You need to come home. Right now.
Sent 1 image
From Koutarou
Was putting away laundry and it was in Nikko’s drawer.
Akaashi cursed to himself, staring at the photo his husband sent. He could only imagine the interaction going on back home. And it really wasn’t a good time - they had a performance coming up soon, and their bassoon player had to take leave so one of his clarinetists is making the switch, and his tubas can’t seem to get their section right…But he pocketed the phone anyway and motioned for his understudy to come over, telling him to take over for the rest of rehearsal then moving to the stage exit. At least there wasn’t that much time left today anyway.
Quickly grabbing his bag from his office, he locked the door and made his way outside to his car.
The whole drive there he prayed for the house to still be standing by the time he got there. Luckily, it was. On the outside at least.
Who knew what flames were burning inside from the occupants? He ran up to the door after pulling into the driveway.
His husband was pacing in the living room with his arms crossed when Akaashi walked in, a deep frown etched into his face as he glared at their son sitting on the couch in front of him.
Cautiously, Akaashi set his workbag on the counter, walking into the room and sitting down on one of the loveseats kitty-corner to the couch.
Bokuto still didn’t say anything. His lips were pressed tight, fingers digging into his biceps. Akaashi could tell he was trying extremely hard not to blow up, to not go off the rails. And that’s why he had texted Akaashi.
They trusted one another to take care of any situation that arises with their kids on their own, but sometimes, every so often, they still needed their partner to balance them and help them. They know their limits.
Like now.
Akaashi shuffled in the seat, breathing in deeply through his nose before looking at Nikko. “Is this...the first time?” he asked softly.
The high schooler didn’t look at him, didn’t even respond.
“Nikko...” he tried again.
“This isn’t that big of deal,” Nikko spat out in a huff.
“Nuh uh,” Bokuto growled, waving a finger. “Do not use that tone of voice.”
Clicking his tongue, Nikko whipped his head away from Bokuto and stared at the couch cushions with a similar hardened glare.
Akaashi shot his husband a look.
“We’re just trying to figure out what to do here,” Akaashi mediated. He waited a second before repeating his first question.
A bit of pomp deflated from the boy at the calmness of his dad’s voice. He shook his head slightly in answer.
Sucking in, Akaashi closed his eyes. “How many times?”
He shrugged. “I don't know, like, few times a week?”
“Oh my god,” Bokuto huffed. He went back to pacing in front of the couch, anger finally falling out of him. “Oh my god! Do you not realize the consequences of your actions? Your entire athletic career could go up in smoke! Literally.”
The glare instantly returned to Nikko’s face. “Stop overreacting! It’s not that big a deal.”
“Are you that naive,” Bokuto said lowly, squaring his body to him across the coffee table.
“A bunch of athletes smoke pot now!”
“Not in this family!” Bokuto yelled, deep voice rumbling. “Not on the U19 team! Do you think, that I don’t drug test my players twice a month? And on the national team?! That they would let anyone go to the Olympics that has been anywhere near the substance when it’s banned? And illegal here? How could you be so reckless!”
Nikko shot off the couch, his height at 17 already matching his father’s. “You didn’t tell Kimi that she was reckless for sneaking out to go to that party! Or for breaking Dad’s metronome! But all of a sudden I’m the reckless one?”
“Do not speak to me like that,” Bokuto growled.
Nikko let out a delirious laugh. “You’re not being fair! You let her get away with everything, stop overreacting about this with me!”
“You don’t tell me that I’m overreacting when I’ve seen great players be kicked off of teams for doing less,” Bokuto exclaimed.
“That’s-“
“No!” Bokuto cut him off. “This conversation is over. You’re grounded. Four months.”
“Wha-, Pops!”
“Koutarou...”
“And if I find that crap anywhere near you ever again, I swear to god, I will go to your coach myself and pull you from that team. Do you understand me?”
“But-“
“Do you understand me?” he punctuated.
“What happened to ‘Oh, you can always come talk to me, Nikko.’ ‘I’ll always be proud of you, Nikko.’”
“You disrespect the rules of this house and this is how I’m going to react. Now go to your room!”
Nikko let out a yell, his face red and feet slamming into the ground as he stomped up the stairs. “I hate you!” he screamed. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” The slam from his bedroom door rattled the house.
Bokuto pulled at his hair, shaking his head and sinking into the spot on the couch closest to his husband.
Akaashi stared at the window.
“You shouldn’t have blown up at him like that,” Akaashi said after a few stretched moments of silence.
Bokuto pressed his palms into his face. “Weed, Keiji? Since when has he been smoking? His lungs could be ruined.”
Shaking his head, “I don’t know,” Akaashi admitted. “But either way, you should’ve given him a chance to explain himself better.”
“Explaining would’ve done shit, it can’t take back the damage he’s already done to himself. How could he think that this was ok?”
“Kou,” Akaashi said, placing a hand on the other’s knee. “The bigger question is since when do we yell at our kids like that?”
—----------—-
“Go away,” a voice mumbled from behind the door a few hours later.
“That’s a shame. Who else is going to have this piece of cake?”
Hesitation. “Fine.”
Bingo.
Cake would always do it.
Akaashi opened the door to his son’s room, the only light coming from the lamp on the boy’s desk. He was sitting on his bed, pillow clutched tight in his lap, staring at the ground.
Placing the plate on the desk, the man slowly walked over and sat down next to him.
He didn’t say anything, just sat there, waiting. Until Nikko finally sighed, a mumbled ‘I’m sorry’ coming out from him.
Akaashi reached a hand back, rubbing his back. Nikko subconsciously leaned into him, his head flopping down onto his shoulder. “You two are cut from the same cloth. Just so much alike. You definitely have your differences, but he sees in you everything he couldn’t be,” Akaashi whispered, hand still moving up and down.
Nikko snorted. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
Sighing, “But it’s the truth,” Akaashi said. “Even if he can’t admit it.”
He pulled away, lifting Nikko’s face to look at him. “Nik, you are such an amazing son. You’re respectful, and hardworking. You take care of your sister. But most importantly, you are so so confident. I have never seen you doubt yourself. And that’s one thing your father has always struggled with. So he sees you, someone who shares his love for volleyball, and knows that you have all the makings to be a great player. Even better than he was.”
He snorted again. “Doubtful. I’ve seen the footage. I’ll always be compared to him. He’s a volleyball legend.”
Akaashi ran his fingers around a tuft of the boy’s hair, one of the streaks of white that blended into the black curls. He hummed. “He was always a force to be reckoned with on the court, that’s for sure. But he was also the first to crack under his own pressure. Always lifted up his teammates but never himself. His confidence was always his weakness, even off the court. And it hindered him. A lot.” He smiled softly. “That’s why you, with your confidence galore, all he can see is how you have the entire the package. And he just wants what’s best for you.” He hugged him close. “You’re both so similar and that’s why you butt-heads. And he shouldn’t have reacted the way that he did, but, you need to realize he just wants to protect you.”
They sat there, Akaashi petting the boy’s head in silence. “How did you even start doing that?”
He felt the shrug of shoulders underneath him. “Some of the guys at school were talking about it. One day they asked if I wanted to try it and I said sure. I don’t know why, I kinda just felt like I should? I don’t know. I don’t think I even like it,” he mumbled.
“Then why did you keep doing it?”
Another shrug. “I don’t know. To fit in, I guess.”
Akaashi stayed silent a moment. He remembered being young and easily mendable. Wanting to fit in was a fair enough reason to him. He’d been a culprit of it himself.
But that didn’t mean it was a good habit.
And it seemed like maybe Nikko has even more qualities of his husband than he realized - he was just better at acting like he didn’t.
“You’re gonna meet a lot of people in your life, Nik. And they’re all going to have their own ways. If you did everything they did, how would you know if it’s really what you want to do, and not a false assumption of what you think you should?”
“I know. I just…didn’t want to seem uncool.”
“If you saying no to doing something you’re against makes you uncool to someone, then you shouldn’t be friends with them. Be around people who you know will never judge you. And…maybe ones that don’t smoke when you’re wanting to pursue being a professional athlete. Ok?”
“Ok,” he mumbled.
They sat there for a few more moments before Nikko choked out, “Dad? What if I don’t make it as far as Pops?”
Akaashi gaped, his heart completely crumbling.
He moved, looking into Nikko’s face more. “Your journey is your own, Nik. Got it? You shouldn’t be thinking about anything other than where you are now and where you want to go. Just because he’s your father doesn’t mean you have to do what he did, ok? We love you no matter what.” He squeezed his shoulder, hugging his side before whispering, “But I also full heartedly believe that you won’t make it as far as he did - you’re going to go much, much further.”
Nikko curled his lips in, giving a chuckle before nodding.
A knock sounded on the door, they looked up as Bokuto walked in hesitantly.
Akaashi patted Nikko’s back. Nikko sighed.
“I know it was stupid of me, and that I shouldn’t have been doing it. I’m so sorry, Pops. I promise I’ll stay away from it.”
Bokuto took a step closer. “And I shouldn’t have escalated so quickly. I should’ve listened to what you had to say. I’m sorry, Nik.”
Nikko shyly got up, moving forward and wrapping his arms around the man. “I want to be a good athlete. And a good son, Papa. I didn’t mean what I said,” he whispered over his shoulder.
Bokuto’s throat constricted, his chest heaving as he patted his son’s back. “You are, Nikko, you are. And I know.”
Pulling back, a goofy grin coming to his face, “Sooo does this mean I’m not grounded?” Nikko asked.
“Ha, nice try. You still are. Maybe not four months though. Two weeks.”
“Yeah, that’s fair.”
He walked over to the desk, picking up the cake and moving to the bed. He passed the fork to Bokuto once he’d taken a bite.
Akaashi leaned back on his hands. “By the way, we knew where Kimi was the whole time when she snuck out. Saw her on the security camera. We were planning on chewing her out when she got back, but she felt too guilty about sneaking out and called us in a panic as soon as she got to Mari’s.”
He smirked, a pleased tint to his eyes. “Apparently, neither one of our kids are good at hiding things.”