An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Title: Sidekicks (chapter 1/3 Drip/Drop) Ship: Akaashi Keiji/Ennoshita Chikara Characters: Akaashi, Ennoshita, Futakuchi Tags: alcohol, future fic, domestic A/N: I started writing this in December then procrasticated. @ennoakaweekend kick-started the fic for me and although Iām late, hereās my entry for the promptĀ āconflictā. Thank you! A/A/N: There are gratuitous references to The Raven Cycle, Writing, YAL, rubbish movies and plumbing. I even researched the plumbing, thatās how committed I am! (and sad)
Summary:
Akaashi Keiji spends his days working through the slush pile to find the next YAL bestseller. At night he comes home to his film enthusiast boyfriend, whoās just landed his first directing job. And except for a broken tap that Chikara has promised to fix, life is good, Keiji knows it is ⦠really.
But thereās this feeling dripping at him that at twenty-five he should be achieving more.
Cue an attempt to mend the offending tap, plus a surprise visit from an old college friend of Chikaraās and life is about to take a different turn.
Keiji stared at the water, watched as it formed into a silver blur of a teardrop, perfect in every respect, clinging on to its ceiling with a force weakening as every second passed. It bulged at the bottom, its weight increasing as if the sand from an hourglass was trickling downwards. Still it grasped, the wobble steadying, and then just when it could have hoped for safety, the droplet fell, smashing onto the stainless steel floor, splattering to nothing.
āDonāt you dare,ā Keiji muttered.
But threats did nothing. The tap mocked him anew, gathering strength to begin the cycle again.
Drip
It was stupid to let it get to him, but coming after the other niggle (over a broken cup) and then Chikaraās enthusiastic gloating when heād got more questions correct in the quiz they liked to watch together, the dripping tap that heād promised to fix now sounded like water torture to Keijiās throbbing head.
Drop
Heād not eaten well, either, grabbing a quick snack at work, coming home to find Chikara had been delayed so hadnāt prepared anything for dinner. So the headache thrumming at his brain was probably more a case of lack of food and dehydration rather than any external forces.
Drip
It didnāt stop him blaming the fricking tap, though. Or Chikara, who had promised to fix it.
Drop








