Chapter Text
Akaashi doesn’t know why he’s so fidgety. He’s wearing his thickest turtleneck to cover all of the lovebites Bokuto had so generously adorned him with, and while perhaps his lips looked a bit more chapped and red than they normally do, that surely didn’t call for any suspicion. No, what truly was noticeable was his left hand. Akaashi examines it in his full-length bedroom mirror, resting on his briefcase, a gold band on his ring finger glitters in the morning light. Every new angle he sees it in gives him a fresh rush of: wow, oh wow . He holds his left hand out again just to double check and yup. Still real. Akaashi has the most violent, uproarious case of butterflies known to man.
If anything, it’s the ring people will notice. Not that Akaashi expects them to. Good lord, what would he even say? Yes, actually you know that hunky beefcake you see on the deodorant commercials before your YouTube videos, yes that one, well, he just popped the question! How long have we been dating? It’ll be around seventy-two hours now, oh how the time flies. And no, I haven’t told my mother yet. Oh god. He should really call his mom. In all fairness, Koutarou hasn’t exactly allowed him much time between their rushed engagement and Akaashi’s train ride home. Akaashi had actually missed his first scheduled train back, and had to take a later one (Koutarou is nothing if not thorough) and he’s running late.
Akaashi straightens his spine as he walks out the elevator and into Shonen Vai’s office floor, hoping he’s not too obviously clutching his briefcase like a lifeline. No one will notice. He doesn’t want anyone to notice. It’s only the biggest, most incredible thing to have ever happened to him. He’s dying for someone to notice.
Nakaya, Shonen Vai’s receptionist, lifts her head as he enters. Akaashi gives her a stiff nod.
“Morning,” she says. Is Akaashi imagining the once-over she gives him? He must have; she returns to work like usual.
Tenma is predictably already in Akaashi’s office. Akaashi sees him through the window, scratching his chin and staring at the whiteboard where he’s scribbled out several messy panels, getting a little red-marker stain on his cheek as he thinks. Akaashi takes a steadying breath and opens the door.
“There you are,” Tenma says, not turning to look at him. “How was seeing your not-boyfriend?”
Akaashi purses his lips, amused. He clears his throat.
“Are you going over the upcoming arc?” Akaashi asks and Tenma freezes. He turns on his heel, staring at him with wide, haunted eyes. He looks over Akaashi once, twice. He points his marker at Akaashi accusingly.
“Akaashi Keiji, you sly dog!” Tenma cries. “You did it, didn’t you!”
Akaashi has no earthly idea what gave it away, but he can’t help smiling. He holds up his left hand with a little shrug.
“Funnily enough,” he says with a laugh. “He’s still not my boyfriend.”