#dad!bokuto

Quickly, you shut your eyes because you’re scared of what the outcome will be or where the ball lands. He had one too many outs earlier.

Akaashi rests a hand on your shoulder. “It’ll be fine.”

After he says that, you open your eyes to see the ball get shanked off of the libero on the opposing team and the crowd erupted into cheers.

“What a finish for the Jackals,” the commentator announces. “What a way to end the night!”

Akaashi follows your gaze, to see you’re still staring at the opposing team. “y/n, you can look now.”

When you look back on the right side, half of the team plops down on the floor. The other half is in a huddle. “How’d he-”

“His good luck charm’s over there.” Akaashi nods towards Shoji, who is jumping up and down in his seat.

Your son looks down at the floor where your husband’s motioning for all of you to go to him. Shoji climbs into your lap. “Mama, can we go see Papa now?”

“I’ll head down first. I have to go pickup my daughter from dance class.” He pats your shoulder reassuringly and ruffles Shoji’s hair. “Have a good night you two.”

“Night, Keiji.”

“Good night, Uncle.” Shoji waves.

It’s a bit before the crowd disperses. You hold your son and walk down, letting him loose into his dad’s open arms. After hugging Shoji, Bokuto runs to you and sweeps you off your feet into a big bear hug. At the same moment, a child with a mop of curly raven black hair in his father’s arms passes by.

“Kiyoshi!” Your son raises a hand to wave.

Sakusa stops walking and whispers something into his son’s ear. Kiyoshi turns his head, returning the greeting.

“Didn’t think I could do it, huh? I saw you close your eyes.” Bokuto releases you.

“I’m sor-”

“Mama.” Shoji pulls on the hem of your shirt. “I’m hungry.”

“I’m sorry for closing my eyes again.” Your son places his hand in yours. “Are you going out with the team tonight? If so, we’re going home. It’s late.”

“Nope.” 

“But- Why?”

“The others said I couldn’t score the match point, so I had to prove them wrong.” He lifts his son up onto his shoulders and turns to you. “Plus, they said if I do, I get to go home with you two.” 

When Bokuto has his sight set on something, he will accomplish it. Having the two of you as his motivation are the cherries on top.

“What do you feel like eating?” Bokuto asks.

Shoji leans forward and rests his chin atop his dad’s head, putting his hands over his dad’s eyes.

Not sure if he’s asking you or Shoji, you start to answer, “I have no preference-” 

Shoji’s eyes light up. “French fries!”

He has got to eat something else other than fries. 

“French fries it is!” Bokuto’s expression mirrors his son’s. Shoji claps with excitement. He pulls you to his side. “French fries okay with you, Honey Bunny?”

You hate the nickname, but you’ll let it slide this time not to ruin the mood. He has a bucket full of them for you. He rarely uses your given name. It’s all depending on how he’s feeling. 

“We’re not going to M C D, are we?” It has to be spelled out or acronyms used. If Shoji hears the name, he would go nuts and ask for it nonstop. You don’t know why you suggested it when it’s a weird place to go celebrate a win. Anything was possible when your husband’s on a roll.

“Nope, we’ll go to a family restaurant.” 

You let out a breath. Those aren’t any better. The dessert offerings will give Shoji a sugar high too. At least from the menu options, he can choose between pasta or a hamburger steak. If he eats his dinner, he can get a parfait or ice cream. 

Bokuto notices your somewhat relieved and troubled expression. “I’ll take him to M C another day. Maybe he can bring a friend along.”

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Shoji tugs on your arm to go back to the car. “Mama, can’t I go to Kiyoshi’s again?” 

You kneel down in front of him. “When are you going to apologize?”

It sinks in what you’re asking of him and that you’re serious. A frown starts to form on his face and he crosses his arms. “Never!”

Well then, guess it solved the problem at hand. He’s a carbon copy of his father, thinking he did no wrong until the repercussions sink in. 

Straightening up, you pat his head before taking his hand again. He doesn’t move from his spot. You stoop down and open your arms. “Come here.” 

He throws his arms around you or attempts to with his short arms. “I don’t want to go.”

“Sweetie, you’re about to start school soon.”

The visible pout on his face grows. “I want to go home.”

“Do you want to go home or do you want to go to Kiyoshi’s?”

“Kiyo- I mean, home.”

It’s obvious he meant his first answer. 

“You can’t always go over there. They’re busy too. Kiyoshi may even be in preschool.” You kiss the top of his head, ruffling his hair before standing up. “How about I ask Papa to come pick you up today?”

He repeats what you say to himself. A few seconds later, his eyes light up. “Papa doesn’t have practice?”

It’s your turn to repeat what he says. You’d think he’d ask why doesn’t his dad have practice since Kiyoshi sometimes goes there too. It’s not what he really wants if he changes his mind so easily. 

“He doesn’t today.” 

You’re at the front door of the childcare center. While it’s not actually daycare, the playgroup is at one. 

It’s an arts and crafts one today where they were making clay houses. Shoji could’ve gone to daycare, since they operated on an as needed basis, but your son refused to go. A last minute playgroup popped up on your coworker’s feed. You signed him up and brought him there for the time being. It’s on the way home from the doctor’s office, so your husband could pick him up.

You sign him in as the teacher greets you and your son. 

“Ohayo gozaimasu. You must be Bokuto Shoji. Class is about to start if you want to hurry up and put away your belongings.”

Shoji upon seeing the other children immediately takes off his shoes to swap to indoor ones.

“Thank you so much for taking him.”

“It’s no problem, Bokuto-san.”

“Bye, Mama.” He hugged your legs as you’re about to do the same. 

You stopped short. The plan’s to at least help him get settled in, not him saying goodbye so soon. “Bye, Shoji. Mama’s going to work. Papa will pick you up.”

It’s a work at home day. Shoji doesn’t need to know though. He’ll want to stay home and won’t want to go anywhere.

“Okay.”

“We can take it from here,” the teacher reassured. “Parents are always in a rush to leave.”

After watching your son put away his stuff and run off, you turn to the person in charge. “Thank you again. Please call me if there are any issues.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

As you tiptoe inside the bedroom to wake your husband up for his doctor’s appointment, you end up standing there, watching him sleep. 

You haven’t done anything yet. It’s still a debate whether you should take a picture of him or actually wake him up for real. 

There’s nothing readily available for you to use to tickle him with. If you climb into bed, he’ll certainly wake up. He doesn’t budge when you try blowing on his face.

The next best thing is your fingers. You poke and prod him at his ticklish spots, starting with his face. The outer rim of his ears. Up and down his neck. Along his rib cage. All of it does nothing. 

It doesn’t help that he's lying on his stomach with his arms out-stretched.

The last resort is his bellybutton. You can’t because of how he’s sleeping.

Suddenly, the bed shifts when he changes his position. You let out a small gasp and quickly clamp a hand over your mouth.

All 6’3 and 190 plus pounds sleeping like a baby, cuddling with your pillow. After settling in, Bokuto’s nose twitches. 

His abs peek out from the shirt barely covering his stomach. It always rolls up when he moves around a lot. You resist the urge to go for the kill. A snicker almost escapes your mouth as you pull your finger back. 

He overslept. Well, you let him. You’ve already dropped your son off at the playgroup when it’s his turn to. 

At the last minute, you decide not to and turn around to leave the bedroom.

Bokuto opens one eye to peek at you and grabs you before you can walk away, pulling you onto the bed into his arms.

The sudden movement startles you and you let out a yelp of surprise.

He peppers you with kisses. “Thought you could get away, huh?”

“You were fake sleeping this whole time?”

Your husband laughs heartily. “I love messing with you.”

You end up lying in his arms for a few minutes. Enjoying the peace and quiet. He doesn’t say anything. It’s when you remember you’re still on the clock, you try to leave. For real this time.

When you manage to escape out of his clutches and sit up on the edge of the bed, you pat his thigh. “Go get ready. If you don’t, you’re going to be late.”

☆

The coaster your son painted stares back at you as you take a sip of your coffee. “I’m really starting to think you two have beef with Sakusa and his son.”

Shoji told you he painted his friend. Kids talked nonsense. You were confused at first until he explained he wanted to help Kiyoshi paint his coaster. Kiyoshi wouldn't let him. He took his paintbrush and attempted to even after the refusal. Kiyoshi moved away from him and the brush swiped his arm. 

Your son doesn’t lie. He tells things as is. Even when he’s in the wrong.

He gives you a quizzical look. “Nah, we don’t have beef with each other.” 

“I’m not talking about the meat,” you explain.

“Omi wouldn’t hold a grudge.”

“Are you sure about that?” You look back at your laptop screen and pick up answering an email you abandoned earlier.

“Would he?” A worried look crosses Bokuto’s face.

“They are one in the same.” If Sakusa says no, it’s a no. The only person who can convince him or change his mind is his spouse. The same with Kiyoshi too. Until he is much older and can think things through himself, it’s usually the same answer as his father. “Let’s put it this way.”

Drumming your fingers along the table top, you try to think of the most annoying person your husband knows.

“Say Atsumu stole the lunch I made you. What would you do?”

Your husband repeats what you say, then shakes his head. “He just stole it, right?”

You nod, “For now.”

“Nothing. He better give it back.” If anyone takes his food, especially when it’s made by you, they’ll be hearing from him. 

Most of the time it takes the form of what he can buy when he goes out for lunch. Very rarely he’ll bring one he can show off to everyone else. It’s the time you spend on decorating the lunch he doesn’t want to miss out on. Sandwiches and vegetables cut in special shapes and patterns. The surprise he gets when he opens the lid to see the owl rice balls that put a smile on his face. 

“Now what if he went as far as to eat it without telling you.” You pause for dramatic effect. “What would you do now?”

Without thinking, he blurts out, “Pop him one.”

The first instinct is to burst out laughing. As you sit there and blink a few times trying to absorb what he says and to keep in a snort of laughter, you take a few deep breaths. “Shoji messed up Kiyoshi’s art project and Kiyoshi is supposed to pop your son in return?”

It’s nice to know they resort to violence first. You’ll know who to blame if there’s a phone call from the daycare or school.

Besides, Kiyoshi will never do such a thing. At most, he’ll stomp away. 

If provoked, your son on the other hand…

“What you’re saying is Kiyoshi or Shoji should’ve smacked each other?” Out of the corner of your eye, an email notification pops up on the bottom corner of the laptop screen. Moving your fingers on the touchpad, you open the email.

“Hang on.” You hold up a finger as your eyes skim over the contents. “Let me read this.”

His mouth moves as he repeats the question. “Wait! No!”

You hit reply and start typing a response. “I said let me-”

“It’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean then? You know very well Shoji will punch back.”

“That’s my boy-” He snaps his mouth shut, noticing the glare on your face.

You love your husband and son to death, but it’s times like these you wish you had a daughter instead. They were one in the same too. It’s wishful thinking that when he spends time with his son, he would teach him hobbies that don’t involve getting physical injuries or injuring others.

Yet they play fight all the time

Beggars can't be choosers.

When your eyes drift back to the email, you accidentally typed in Shoji will punch back into the body. Realizing your mistake, you hit the backspace key to delete the phrase.

Bokuto gets up from his seat and hurries over to your side.

It’s better to do your work later than to mistype correspondence and have your colleagues question what you send. 

How can you explain it to him so he understands?

“Okay, if I tell you no and you keep pestering me and still do it, it’s not the same thing?” Your phone lying next to the laptop buzzes as a reminder pops up for your meeting.  “I need to take this call.”

Your husband must have heard the alert too. “What meeting is it?”

It’s a marketing meeting which you hate. Cross-departmental meetings require attendees to have their cameras on. You click join online on the reminder then the join now button on the pop-up. “You can chat with them if you want.”

He takes your seat when you get up.

The phone rings in your hand again. As you leave the kitchen, you answer the call. “Hello?”

“Konnichiwa, Bokuto-san. Do you have a moment to speak? It’s about Shoji-kun.” 

You hold your breath. The call every parent doesn’t want to receive from daycare, school, or a playgroup. It’s obvious it's something bad. “Did something happen?”

“Not necessarily. As you’re aware, it’s arts and crafts today. Shoji-kun insisted on making a classmate’s house the exact same as his. The other child’s house ended up falling onto the floor and shattered into pieces.”

Oh, no.

“They’ve both calmed down. However, the child’s still upset.” 

“In other words, he won’t apologize,” you finish.

☆

When you come back into the kitchen, you expect there to be others’ voices coming from the speakers on your laptop, not your husband chatting animatedly with the other attendees. Rather than interrupting them, you hang back to listen.

“We’d love to come watch one of your games.”

Is your coworker asking for tickets?

Bokuto’s face beams. “Sure! Come to one of my games. I’ll give y/n the tickets.”

If he keeps giving away tickets, how does he expect to get paid? 

“Alright, well, is there anything else for the good of the order?” the marketing head asked. “If not, until next time.”

Guess your call with Shoji’s school took longer than expected. It’s always when he’s done something wrong. Since your son wouldn’t talk to you or apologize, you ended up asking to speak to the child whose house your son destroyed and apologized on his behalf. Still, when you or your husband goes and picks him up, he would still need to regardless. He wasn’t getting off that easily.

“It was nice speaking with you, Bokuto-senshu. Make sure you ask y/n for the revenue numbers.”

“Sure thing!” Bokuto finally notices you standing at the kitchen doorway. “y/n, how do you leave the meeting?”

If it’s you on the call, you would’ve been the first to leave.

“Bye, everyone!”

“Bye!”

He still doesn’t know how to leave them. You don’t blame him though. With so many platforms, they’re all different.

You walk over and close out of it with a single click. “What’d they talk about?”

He scans your computer screen for a hint. “They talked about um, revenue?” 

There’s nothing on your desktop background but a family photo. “Really?”

“Come on, you know I’m really bad with numbers. I zone out.”

If they short him of his salary, he won’t even know. Of course he doesn’t care about the paychecks when there’s people there watching him play. You’re about to ask him what’s the deal with the tickets but decide to let it go. There’s more important matters to discuss.

You pull the laptop lid halfway down. “We need to-”

“Who called you-”

Both of you laugh. He lets you speak first.

He’s not going to take this well. “Our son caused an accident and won’t apologize.”

Shoji won’t speak to you either. Your husband doesn’t need to know or he’ll go into strict mode and start punishing Shoji. Although, it only lasts a short while.

As you settle into your chair to start working again, he throws his arms around your shoulders, hugging you. “What kind of accident? Is he hurt?”

After relaying the conversation with the teacher, you add, “You don’t make enemies or burn bridges that early of an age. He’ll think what he does is fine and continue to do it.”

You pat him on the hand, signaling you have to go back to work, but he doesn’t let go. “Think about what I said earlier too.”

“Babe?”

“There’s no way out of it.”

“Sweetie?”

“Honey Bunny?” Your husband plops down onto the floor and pouts.

Stand your ground. “They said if Shoji doesn’t apologize, he won’t be able to go back in the future.”

He whimpers, “I can’t force him to apologize when he doesn't want to.”

You don’t care if he has to resort to bribing. Facing him, you cross your arms. “You need to get Shoji to apologize to the other student and to Kiyoshi.”

Bokuto had been afraid to pick him up. Barely the length of his arm, weight less than a Volleyball…and him, being the big and boisterous guy he was, Koutarou felt like he could break him by touch alone. He had cried as his son entered the world and was placed on you. The littlest thing screaming, and he could not help himself, his heart not being able to contain the emotion. Flowing over and spilling, dripping over his cheeks in hot splotches.

“You did it….you did it, darling,” he whispered, pressing kisses and praises to your temple. A job well done. He was proud, exhausted but proud, and now he kept staring at him in the little crib next to your bed, trying not to make too much noise since you deserved a bit of sleep.

Another small grunt, a slight stretch, and his son opened his eyes, and Bokuto swore his gaze, with eyes golden as he shot an arrow right through his soul. Pink lips parted, letting out a chitter, tugging his father’s into a slight grin.

“Hey …hey…hey little dude….had a nice nap, buddy?”

Bokuto looked around, checking if you were still asleep, then back into the crib. Was he allowed to touch him? Technically, it was his own son…but he didn’t want to touch something he was not supposed to touch. Like the fire alarm button in school…but that was when he was a fool. He was a man now, a father.

He quietly disinfected his hands with a gel on your nightstand and picked up the bundle that was getting fuzzier.

“Little dude, we don’t want to wake your mama, okay? She needs sleep okay…” he said softly, speaking, but it felt like even his whispers were cannonballs in the quiet of the room.

He sat down on the sofa in the room that was way too small for him to get rest, the blanket was way too thin to cover him, but he had not minded at all.

“You know,” he said, placing his son onto his legs, brushing a thumb over the tiny hairs already sticking up, defying gravity.

“I wasn’t able to sleep…. I was making a list of what I have to do now…how to babyproof the house, what toys to buy…what books to read. You know….I was always the fun uncle…you have a bunch of cousins but I have never been a dad you know…and honestly little dude… I am a big scared.”

He paused, watching his son blink at him.

“Hey…hey…hey, no judgement here… I have literally never done this before…and your mom…well…she is amazing…” he paused to glance at you, checking if you were still sleeping, then added. “And I’m sure she is miles better at this parenting stuff than I will be…but I promise you, little dude… I will try my best.”

“We are going to have so much fun, making cookies, throwing balls… I might even teach you my super awesome line shot…oh, and I’ll build a tree house…well, we don’t exactly have a tree…but I will plant one and then build you a treehouse….”

The little boy in his arms continued fuzzing, and slight panic rose in Bokuto’s chest. What should he do, wake you up? Call the nurse? Would Akaashi know what to do? What was the thing the scary nurse had told him skin to skin?

Maybe he should try this thing. Hesitantly, Bokuto reached behind him and pulled his shirt off in a swift motion, tossing it to the side, then fumbled with the tiny buttons on his son’s onesie.

He transferred him into his arm and was amazed at how small he looked against the length of his forearm and pulled the warm babe against him. A tiny heartbeat, a flutter like a little bird. Tears prickled in his eyes once more when his son opened his eyes again, looking up. Softly cooing, the sound no longer fuzzy but content.

“Your dad….” he sighed, poking his son’s cheek, smiling when he opened his mouth and let out a slight complaining noise. “Is a looser… I am emotional… I am a mess, but you know…that’s okay…never be afraid of showing emotions. Don’t hide them, little dude…be true to yourself. That is important….whatever…you want to do in life…be true to yourself.”

He lifted a finger, gently pointing onto the little chest that was rising and lowering in a beautiful rhythm.

“Your heart, little dude…is a very beautiful and important thing to keep save. It’s important that you love and let yourself be loved okay?” he took a deep breath as he choked on his following words, “I love you very much little dude…never forget that….”

He hesitated again, then bent to press his lips onto his son’s forehead, smelling his scent. Peach fuzz hair, soft against his lips.

“I’ll also teach you how to style your hair….super awesome like your dad…we’ll match,” he grinned slightly, “People won’t even know which Bokuto is who…mini me…don’t worry…they’ll know you….”

He said and stood up, walking around so he could rock him back to sleep.

“One day the world is going to know your name, little dude….outshine the morning sun, outshine the stars and the moon above, outshine them all, little dude….”

The baby blinked sleepily, yawned, and closed his eyes.

“But for now, my son...” Bokuto whispered softly, “Sweet dreams…Bokuto Hikaru”

Bokuto didn’t know the words for any lullaby, another thing he would have to learn in time, but humming the tune was enough for now.