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The adrenaline is still coursing in his veins when the final whistle blows, signalling the end of the game and declaring Tetsurou’s team the winners.
His stick clatters to the ground as his teammates surround him instantly, laughing and patting his back. Tetsurou coughs at a particularly hard hit, enough to send him sliding forward and his head spinning.
“Hey, are you okay?” someone notices, but Tetsurou can’t answer, his ears starting to ring over the audience’s cheers and the sting of the blinding lights and—
“I’m good,” he croaks out, reaching up to tug off his helmet.
Earlier, during the last few seconds of the game, Tetsurou was bodyslammed while trying to steal the puck, his opponent trapping him between themself and the wall. Tetsurou’s head knocked hard against the surface, the helmet not enough to nullify the collision’s intense impact, and while he ignored the pain that bloomed in the moment, he supposes it’s starting to catch up to him now.
“Akaashi-san is not going to be happy,” someone teases, guiding Tetsurou to the stands with a firm grip on his elbow, and Tetsurou grimaces.
“I’m fine,” he starts, “it wasn’t that bad—”
“Off you go!”
Tetsurou stumbles when the front of his skate hits the ledge. He grabs onto the handle before he can fall over, and his muscles ache when he steps over, getting himself onto the regular ground again. Someone guides him to a bench, and it’s as he’s busy untying his skates does he hear the sound of a bag tossed next to him, and a shadow starts looming over his figure.
He looks up with a grin plastered on his face, though it certainly falters the moment he meets their trusty team medic’s glare.
“Kuroo-san,” Akaashi greets, clipped and sharp, and Tetsurou internally winces. “I see you’ve injured yourself again.”
Again is definitely an overexaggeration. Tetsurou opens his mouth to argue, but it slams back shut when Akaashi drops onto the seat next to him, unzipping his bag. He takes out a piece of gauze, pressing it to the side of Tetsurou’s head, and it’s only then does Tetsurou realise he’s bleeding.
“I must look pretty rugged, huh?” he jokes. Akaashi gives him an unimpressed look.
“Rugged isn’t the synonym for careless.”
“Aw, don’t be so mean, Akaashi. It was just a friendly nudge between opponents.”
“Friendly? You should’ve pulled away the moment you were slammed. You could’ve gotten a concussion. In fact, I’m not certain you didn’t with the way you’re talking right now.”
Ouch. Akaashi is always so brutal. Tetsurou would feel hurt if he hasn’t known Akaashi intimately for years, and learned that his anger is just a way of showing he cares.
They met when they joined this ice hockey team together in the same year, though of course, Tetsurou was a player and Akaashi was a medic-in-training. While they never spoke much during practices, they live in the same direction, so Tetsurou would find himself walking home with Akaashi after training was over.
Akaashi always seemed reluctant to talk to him at first. It took him a while to open up, though Tetsurou is, of course, no stranger to befriending even the quietest introverts. Plus, Akaashi has a good sense of dry-witted humour and a brilliant mind, and he’s always looking out for the members of their team. Tetsurou likes him a lot.
(Sometimes, Akaashi looks out for them so much that he remembers details about them that no normal human being feasibly could or should, but that’s besides the point.)
So anyway, Tetsurou is content to sit here and let Akaashi scold him for not taking care of himself when on the ice. Feels like home, truly.
“In any case, I did manage to steal the puck and score,” Tetsurou says cheerfully. Akaashi has just bandaged around his head and passed him a bottle of isotonic, instructing him to drink up. “You saw, didn’t you?”
Akaashi pauses, glancing at him through the rims of his glasses. “…Nope. I didn’t.”
“Eh, don’t lie to me,” Tetsurou whines, barely concealing his laugh when Akaashi’s glare sharpens. “You were totally watching me play the whole time. I could feel your eyes, you know?”
“I think your concussion is getting to you if that’s what you really believe.”
“If that’s the excuse you’re using.”
“Not an excuse.” Akaashi jerks his head. “Hurry up and drink.”
“Yes, sir,” Tetsurou mutters, tugging off his gloves and opening up the can.
His other teammates are starting to get off the ice too, laughing and chatting amongst themselves. Everyone’s spirits are at an all-time high, and even though Tetsurou isn’t with them, their energy makes him smile, too. It was a game they trained hard for, and Tetsurou is thankful that their efforts have paid off.
When Tetsurou is almost done with the can, Akaashi packs up, swinging his bag over his shoulder. He looks at Tetsurou again, hesitating, and Tetsurou raises an eyebrow in return.
“I’ll see you later,” Akaashi says, and after a beat, adds with an averted gaze, “…it was a good game.”
He runs off, leaving Tetsurou blinking dumbly at where he once stood, heat rising to his cheeks.
When Tetsurou exits the team’s locker room, dressed casually in loose clothes and his hair still wet from his shower, he finds Akaashi sitting in the passenger seat of his car, reading a book.
He approaches him with a spring in his step, already smiling when he sees a cup of takeaway coffee ready for him in the centre console’s cup holder. When Tetsurou opens the door and slides into the driver’s seat, Akaashi looks up and says, “Took you long enough.”
“I was being extra careful! Didn’t want to get this too wet.” Tetsurou points to his bandage. He leans over, peering at the coffee. “Is this a treat for me?”
“Why do you ask a question you already know the answer to?” Akaashi huffs, but he still nods, and doesn’t push him away when Tetsurou gives him a teasing poke to the cheek.
“Softie,” he says.
They don’t drive home immediately, instead spending a few minutes chatting in the car. It’s nearing sunset anyway, and at the first hints of orange in the sky, Tetsurou offers, “Let’s grab dinner before we head home?”
“Sure. But what if one of your fans spot us?”
“I’ll tell them that my team’s medic takes real good care of me, that he makes sure I eat good food and get home safe even after work hours,” Tetsurou replies with a wiggle of his eyebrows, his heart soaring when Akaashi laughs.
The moment they get home and Akaashi finishes locking up the door, Tetsurou grabs his wrist and tugs him into a kiss.
Akaashi lets out a surprised, muffled sound, one that Tetsurou swallows up greedily. He slides his hands up to Akaashi’s cheeks, cradling him in place, and Akaashi loops his hands around his shoulders.
When they pull apart, Akaashi’s glasses are skewed and his breaths are a little unsteady. “What was that for?”
“My winning prize! You didn’t congratulate me on my game today.”
“I— I already told you it was a good game!”
“You could’ve told anyone that. But this one is a special congratulations for me, your hot and sexy boyfriend who played so well today and— ow!”
Akaashi retracts his foot from where he just stomped onto Tetsurou’s. Traitor. “I’ll congratulate you when you recover from that injury.” He taps Tetsurou’s bandage, as if he could somehow forget about it, and walks off into the bathroom with a mutter of needing a shower.
Tetsurou takes a moment to realise what that means. “Wait, like— like that? Akaashi, I’m feeling perfectly okay! What does that even mean?”
“Sit down and rest!” he hears Akaashi yell from the shower.
Tetsurou grumbles, dropping onto the couch and folding his arms across his chest, doing exactly as told. Maybe this is Akaashi’s way of telling him not to get injured so carelessly again. How cruel.