Chapter Text
Akaashi’s body was kinda like what Kuroo had said one time about how astronauts get when they’d been in space for a while. Super flexible, but also with noodle arms cause their muscles atrophied from flying around all the time. Trying to do things with Akaashi’s space arms was not easy.
It had made sense to come to the gym after they made the rules. Not that there were that many rules. Just complicated ways of getting along with people that Bokuto could have figured out on his own. Anyway, they came to the gym cause they needed to practice in their switched positions. Or bodies. He wasn’t sure which to call it. But no matter how hard they practiced, Bokuto couldn’t make Akaashi’s arms set the ball across the court. He really didn’t have a damn clue how to set past the basics.
When Akaashi tried to demonstrate, he’d set the ball into the gym ceiling so hard bits of tile fell down on the court. So he had to just explain. Which he wasn’t very good at. It seemed like Akaashi would be a great teacher, but he was mostly only good at teaching things to people like Tsukki.
But even though Bokuto had been trying to toss to Akaashi for a while and it was really frustrating, he still felt pretty calm. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t good at setting. He never done it! He was trying his best in a crazy situation. It was really nice to not feel quite so bad as usual. All the same, he didn’t feel that excited about not being frustrated either. Kind of a bummer.
Akaashi seemed a lot more frustrated. Maybe fourteen times more. Maybe twenty-eight. Maybe fifty-six. Just some kind of crazy amount.
The thing was, Akaashi knew how to spike. But he didn’t know how to spike the way Bokuto knew how to spike. How would he? Bokuto was a top five ace, and Akaashi was a setter. The best setter, but a setter. A different job. And nobody could spike like Bokuto.
Ushijima couldn’t, no other powerhouse school aces could either. Nobody else in the top five, not even that jackass, Sakusa. Some guys on the national team, sure, but the only high schoolers he knew of who could really pull off moves like his were from Karasuno: that baldie who had figured out how to do a sharp cut cross (Bokuto considered himself his secret senpai), and then Shorty, who was gonna be the best high school spiker in Japan once he was a third year.
Cause he’d learned from the best.
So Akaashi was having a hard time, and he was getting mad about it, which wasn’t normal. Bokuto tried to give him better tosses, but he couldn’t really. So Akaashi kept getting stuck in the net and then angrily tearing himself loose. Since his own body was made of noodles on top, Akaashi was used to yanking real hard. He was gonna ruin the net.
The bottom half of Akaashi’s body was a thing Bokuto was trying not to think about. Really it was something he always tried not to think about, because of reasons, but now it was extra difficult. Mostly because Akaashi had brought up his dick first thing, like it was the most important issue in this whole crazy mess. But also, because he’d never actually had the chance to stop and look at Akaashi’s thighs the way he had that morning when they were suddenly his. He could never go back to a life where he hadn’t well, grabbed them, and felt the strong muscles under his fingers. Especially if he was stuck living with Akaashi’s thighs for the rest of his life. They were just… really hot.
What kind of job was he going to get as an Akaashi, anyway? He’d always figured Akaashi would get a really smart job, but now he wasn’t going to be able to because Bokuto was smart at lots of things, but not smart job smart. Although, maybe now Bokuto would get the smart job, only nobody would know there was a secret Akaashi inside…
“Akaaaaaaaashi!” his voice bellowed, probably practicing to talk like him but also sounding pretty mad. Akaashi was pacing in circles, doing that thing with his hands that he wasn’t supposed to do because he was Bokuto. When Bokuto was mad he pulled at his hair, or worse. Akaashi was never mad, so it was hard to even say what he did, except the finger thing apparently.
“Yes, Bokuto-san?” Bokuto tried to sound bored and fed up, but he mostly sounded worried.
“Please tell me in detail the exact mistakes I am making.”
“Bokuto-san doesn’t talk like that, Bokuto-san.”
Bokuto’s droopy eyelid twitched, which was pretty impressive, since he couldn’t even make it move half the time.
Or maybe he actually could? Maybe he’d just forgotten how after that stupid seizure. He should have practiced more... but how was he supposed to know about eyelid practice? He’d been eight!
“I am well aware, but no one else is here,” Akaashi growled. He didn’t sound like himself. Well, course he didn’t because he wasn’t talking in his own voice, but even then, Akaashi didn’t get mad like this. When he was mean, it was like a knife, not like a hammer.
“I dunno how to help,” Bokuto said, feeling pretty certain he was the worst person in the world. Only he didn’t really want to slouch in a corner or slam his head against things. Which was cool. But he also didn’t know how to act, feeling only sorta terrible.
“I just like…” he scratched the back of his head, feeling Akaashi’s hair floof around his fingers, “…half of it’s instinct! I even forget how to do it, sometimes. You know that, but then I usually remember cause I’m awesome. Well and sometimes you–”
“Well, if I can’t learn to do this, your ‘awesome’ career is over!” Akaashi snapped, grabbing at Bokuto’s fingers and muttering to himself. “I don’t understand. That’s at least fifty moves in the future, why does it seem so urgent at this moment?”
Akaashi was kind of going crazy.
Bokuto grabbed his hands. He had to reach up for them and they felt really thick and kind of gross compared to Akaashi’s slender fingers. But as it turned out, even though they were slim, Akaashi’s fingers were really strong. Bokuto thought that grip exercise thing had just been to keep his hands busy. But it sure wasn’t. It was easy to hold him still.
“I’m gonna tell coach you’re having a bad day, okay?” he lowered Akaashi’s hands to his sides. Or his hands? This was really a pain, trying to decide what to call things.
“I don’t have bad days,” Akaashi shouted. He yanked hard and put his hand on his mouth, like he couldn’t believe he’d been so loud. After a few seconds, he softly insisted. “I have to fix this. It is vital that I learn how to do this right now.”
“Well I have bad days a lot!” Bokuto tried to yell, and couldn’t because Akaashi had like, a half of a voice. “Since you’re me, guess you do too. Anyway, you can’t learn something in an hour that I trained for like six years to do.”
Akaashi didn’t seem to be listening. He looked around the gym, and then looked down at Bokuto. “You’re going to tell coach that Bokuto-san is having a bad day, then suggest we do physical conditioning for three quarters of practice. It’s what I do if you seem irritable in the mornings.”
“Huh?”
Akaashi had said it like it was just a normal thing. That he did all the time. Without even…
“Why don’t you just ask me what’s wrong?” Bokuto was pushing the limits of how loud Akaashi’s voice could be but he was finally starting to feel really mad.
“Because when I tried, it didn’t help,” Akaashi clipped his words in a way Bokuto’s mouth couldn’t really manage. “I suspected upon meeting you that your moods were chemically based. But even if you hadn’t told me about your condition, this situation would confirm them. Because currently, I want to cry.”
He stopped and took a tiny breath.
“I haven’t cried since I was ten. This is a very unpleasant experience.”
His voice, even though it was Bokuto’s, sounded… little.
Just like that, Bokuto wasn’t mad anymore. Or, he was, but he realized that since Akaashi was more important, he could shove his anger into this safe little locker he’d found and save it for later. It was the weirdest thing he’d ever felt. Not the worrying about Akaashi part, he’d felt that sometimes. It was more that he’d never been able to stop feeling anything in the middle of feeling it before.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Bokuto patted his own shoulders, hoping Akaashi appreciated it.
Wow, his arms were amazing.
“I’ll tell the coach, and then, it’ll be okay if you mess up! I’ll tell him… that I, er, Bokuto-san got mad that he didn’t get you, er, me the best birthday present. Cause I was this morning, till I realized I was you.”
Akaashi looked down at him. He took a few slow breaths. “You’re completely ridiculous.”
“Agaaasheee!”
“In fact–”
Whatever Akaashi wanted to say was cut off when someone kicked open the gym door.
“Sup, virgins? Guess who got a girlfriend?”
It was Komi who’d got a girlfriend. He was probably still a virgin, though. Bokuto was really excited, but he had to pretend to only care a little bit, like Akaashi would, which made him feel like a jerk. Meanwhile, Akaashi decided that instead of being excited, Bokuto was going to be jealous at Komi’s new basketball girlfriend.
Pretty mean, the idea that Bokuto couldn’t be happy for his libero, and one of his best bros. What’s worse was watching the team all patting Akaashi on the back and telling him it was okay. From the outside, it was pretty obvious they were faking sympathy. Was it always like this? Bokuto felt sick.
The door opened again and Coach stepped in, pulling off his jacket real dramatic like a superhero. Bokuto was relieved to have a reason to ignore the rest of the team. He took a deep breath and tried to walk across the gym like Akaashi. He used his whole foot, starting with his heel and took long steps. But he was focusing too much or something, because when Coach saw him, he lifted his eyebrow and asked if Akaashi was injured.
Fuck. What did Akaashi call Coach?? Fuck.
“No, Coach-san,” Coach lifted his eyebrows even higher, so he’d got it wrong, “Bokuto-san is in a bad mood. He got me a stupid present, or, not the best present, and uh, anyway, he is feeling… supremely sad. So, I hoped that we could maybe, er, perhaps, stay off the court for most of–”
“Say no more, Akaashi-kun,” the coach squeezed his shoulder the way a dad might, then turned to the rest of the team. “Alright everyone, stay in your tracksuits. It’s pretty brisk out, but we’re going to get a run in before it rains!”
Everyone groaned but Akaashi. Or, “Bokuto.”
This was really confusing.
They couldn’t run forever, though. Well, maybe Akaashi could. Bokuto knew that Akaashi liked to run a lot, but he probably wasn’t used to running in a godlike body that just wouldn’t quit. He lapped everyone at least four times, looking way more serious than Bokuto would ever look. Bokuto, on the other hand, was pretty sick of Akaashi’s body. His thighs were made for running, maybe, but his stamina was more in his head than his lungs. Bokuto hadn’t powered through a run on self-control alone in years.
It sucked.
Back on the court was something else.
He’d wanted to pull Akaashi into the corner, to pretend that they were having a discussion about captainy junk. But he didn’t get a chance, because the coach got to Akaashi first, and he could tell even across the gym that it was a pep talk.
Those talks were the worse. Coach didn’t get it. He didn’t get the way everything about a mistake roared in Bokuto’s head, whipping his mind around until he wanted nothing more than for Washio to punch him out, or to just melt in the floor in a puddle of misery. Akaashi probably didn’t get it either, but at least he understood that pep talks when Bokuto felt bad didn’t do anything. Mostly they made him feel worse.
But at the moment, Akaashi was flushed and more than a little bit proud of himself. The run had probably gotten him pumped. And he wasn’t used to feeling like that. So now he felt like he could do anything, probably. He looked like it.
Was that really how it was?
Bokuto leaned over and tried to tie his shoe. Even though Akaashi definitely wasn’t supposed to cry after a long run (or ever), he was blinking away tears. Bokuto had known for about a year now that his feelings didn’t work like they were supposed to. That they were wild and didn’t listen because who knew why brains were like that? It was supposed to be okay. Just a thing about him that he could take medicine for. He could practice not getting dejected all the time and his family said he was getting better. But seeing it, knowing that normally calm Akaashi was getting worked up over dumb things cause Bokuto’s brain was busted, felt a lot different. It was like Akaashi couldn’t act like himself.
So, who was Bokuto then? Was he ever himself? Ever really happy or sad? Or just worked up all the time because his head was messed up?
“Agaaaaasseeee!” his own voice called out, high and nasally and so much less cool than he wanted it to sound.
And to top it all off he apparently sounded like that all the time. Or at least to Akaashi who really was kind of the only person who mattered. If Kuroo thought he sounded dumb, Bokuto would just make fun of his hair. The rest of the team he could rag on too. But Akaashi… he wanted Akaashi to think that he was cool. Maybe because he was pretty and had really nice thighs and kind of a perfect ass. But Bokuto had those nice thighs and ass now and he still wanted Akaashi to think he was cool in a way that was more than just friendly.
This wasn’t something he liked to think about and at least today he could stop.
There was only a little bit of practice left. Most of it so far had been receives, and the second-string team had been the ones tossing and spiking. Neither he nor Akaashi were the best ever at receives, so an off day made sense. Akaashi had taken it way too seriously, though, and kept tumbling over his feet, which was weird, because he was the one whose feet were giant.
But now they were the ones doing the tossing and spiking and Bokuto was a little nervous. Mostly cause everybody spiked, but he was the only one tossing. And he was still not a setter. Maybe in a day or two, but even he’d admit he had some limits.
Washio barely got the ball over the net. Sarukui turned his spike into a feint. Konoha somehow managed to spike better than he usually did, and Onaga was tall and slow enough that Bokuto could toss to him perfect. He had to hold himself back from a victory dance when the ball slammed just outside of Komi’s reach.
Then it was Akaashi’s turn.
He was too stiff. Bokuto always tried to loosen up and then ease into a high crouch before his run-ups, otherwise they went bad. Akaashi looked more like a rock than a bird about to take off. He probably knew he was being stared at, so he turned and gave Bokuto a look. Maybe the look would have been obvious if it were coming from Akaashi’s own face, but it wasn’t, so Bokuto had no idea what it meant. Probably something like, “Concentrate, Bokuto-san.”
It was real overwhelming, trying to figure out how to toss to the spot he liked himself, wondering if Akaashi could even get to that spot, and if that was even what Akaashi meant by that look. He thought maybe if he was lucky he could get it to a place where Akaashi could hit it. If he was unlucky he would mess it up, Akaashi would just stop and pretend to whine at him like he was Bokuto.
Because apparently Bokuto whined a lot.
If he was cursed, he’d toss to a bad spot, Akaashi would try for it anyway, and then he’d get hurt or something.
Was this the kinda thing Akaashi had to deal with every time he set the ball? Jeeze.
The smack of the leather against his palms was the first sign that things hadn’t gone right. There was no whistle because it wasn’t a game or anything. The ball hovered towards the net, like a float serve, and it was going where it was supposed to. Maybe.
Akaashi was running, but he was running too fast. He was gonna take the wrong number of steps and then jump and…
The ball slammed down on the other court hard, nobody could stop it. But Akaashi was so close to the net, he had to fling back his head and chest to keep from sticking in it again.
When he landed, the wrench of his ankle sounded like a car wreck, even though it didn’t make a noise at all.
Coach ended practice after that.
First he sent everyone else to change, then crouched down next to Akaashi, who was trembling, biting at his lip like he was trying to tear it off. Bokuto wanted to do something but he wasn’t sure what kind of something Akaashi would do.
“Why don’t we take you to the infirmary?” Coach was asking, just as he got close enough to overhear.
“It’s fine,” Akaashi spat. He was already doing it wrong. Bokuto would have asked to go to the infirmary right away. Akaashi would have gone with him, even if it meant missing his first class, which was his hardest. Bokuto hadn’t ever stopped to think about how nice that was.
The coach gave Akaashi a sidelong glance, “I think you’re right, Bokuto, but doesn’t going to the infirmary put your mind at ease?”
“They aren’t equipped to help,” Akaashi said through his teeth. They pretty much weren’t, but Bokuto got really nervous about permanent injury. Akaashi wasn’t nervous, though, he just looked upset. The ankle probably still hurt. Bokuto didn’t know what it felt like to hurt in somebody else’s body. Maybe it was worse than normal; Akaashi had been hurt twice already.
“He uh, watched a scary movie about nurses last night!” Bokuto spoke up. “It probably just needs iced and wrapped, right? I can help him, if somebody, er someone tells our teachers we’ll be late.”
“You’re not wrong,” Coach stroked his chin, “the nurse doesn’t really know what he’s doing. I’ll have to send one of your teammates – I’m taking my wife to her doctor’s appointment this morning.”
“Oh yeah!” Bokuto grinned. “She’s gonna have a baby soon!”
Akaashi would not have said that, but Coach was too pleased to pick up on it.
“Are you comfortable with this, Bokuto?” he looked down at Akaashi on the floor. For once Bokuto was happy to notice that the look on his coach’s face as he looked at Akaashi seemed like real concern. Not like everybody else who was just trying to trick him into chilling out.
When Akaashi nodded, the two of them helped him up, and led him into the locker rooms. Everyone else was dressed and packing up.
“He okay?” Sarukui asked under his breath while Coach asked Konoha to talk to their teachers.
Bokuto tried so hard to sound like Akaashi cause Saru would know, “Yes, I believe so. It was just the shock on a bad day.”
“A worse day than normal. He was up and down like ten times.” Saru heaved his bag over his shoulder then patted him on the back, “Well, it looks like you’ve got your hands full today, Akaashi. Let us know if you need any backup.”
It was pretty hard to move after that.
The rest of the team filed out the door. He heard Coach saying something about making sure “Bokuto” didn’t fall in the showers, but the words just kinda echoed. It was like… he wasn’t in his body anymore. Or the room. He was there, but he wasn’t. Somebody had dropped some kind of bottlecap on the floor two meters away, and he just stared at it for three hours, or three seconds, maybe, until Coach slapped him on the back and the world rushed back in just in time to see plastic wrap and ice sat on one of the benches.
All the terrible feelings got shoved into another locker in his head, and he walked into the showers to make sure Akaashi didn’t fall on his ass.
Stepping around the tile wall, Bokuto was treated to a sight.
He’d never really seen his own ass. Well, he’d seen it in the mirror, arcing his head over his shoulder. But he’d never seen it like this, sticking out while his arms were leaning against the shower wall in a pose that was kinda stressed, but kinda sexy. And damn it was a fine-looking ass.
He’d seen Akaashi naked plenty of times, but never really looked cause you weren’t supposed to. He extra wasn’t since he thought dudes were sexy and also because it was Akaashi. But now, even though Akaashi was completely naked and leaning like he was posing or something, it was still just Bokuto’s body. So, he still hadn’t really seen Akaashi naked in any way that counted for much of anything. He could check out his own ass without feeling bad about it.
Akaashi probably knew he was there, but he wasn’t saying anything. Bokuto didn’t really know what to say himself. How did you tell somebody it was okay that he almost sprained your ankle while he was stuck in your body? Well, just like that probably, but he didn’t really wanna–
Wait. Was Akaashi quiet because he was staring at Bokuto’s dick? It was pretty impressive but there were kinda more important things going on. Or maybe he thought it was weird. Bokuto should probably ask at some point. Not now though.
“Your penis is startlingly large, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, soft and sad and quiet. Not the way you ever wanted a hot guy to talk about your dick. Even if the hot guy was you. Or in you.
Not like that.
But, actually, what would it be like, to fuck yourself? Probably sorta… interesting. But not if you were sad. Or Akaashi was sad in you.
Not like that.
Akaashi’s body blushed so easy, Bokuto could feel the heat all the way down to his new nipples.
“I’m duly impressed. So please don’t be concerned. I mentioned such things first to get them out of the way.”
Luckily Akaashi couldn’t read Bokuto’s mind quite as well as he thought. It was hard to worry about this being the weirdest conversation in his life when there was so much other shit going on.
“Can you stand okay?” Bokuto started to strip down. He really needed a shower too. They’d been practicing since six and Akaashi’s body sweat a lot. And maybe it would be less weird if they were both naked, instead of Bokuto-Akaashi standing around while Akaashi-Bokuto washed himself.
Even though he had permission, he couldn’t really look at Akaashi’s junk. He was hairier down there than Bokuto realized, especially his belly, but that’s about as far as he felt okay looking. You didn’t have to look to rinse off. It’d be fine.
He crossed the tiles and stood next to Akaashi, who was still leaning against the wall.
“You’re gonna give me dry skin,” he lifted his arm over his head and rinsed off his armpit with the shower head.
Akaashi turned his head a little. He was a mess.
See, this was why Bokuto spiked his hair. Even though everybody thought it was some kind of weird bleach job, the gray parts were from that time in fifth grade when his eyebrows, eyelashes, and big clumps of hair on his head fell out. The hair that grew back was pale gray and super delicate. The doctor said it would turn back to black, but it never had. It fell to pieces if anyone dyed it, and if Bokuto cut it short he looked like an old guy. So he got a cool haircut. But it had to be spiked or something, not hanging sad in his eyes like that.
He might as well just call them Akaashi’s eyes at this point.
“I’m very sorry about your ankle. I will do my best to ensure you recover as quickly as possible.”
Akaashi sounded like he was going to explode.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said as gently as Akaashi’s voice would let him. Actually, really gentle. It made his heart hurt, kinda, and he didn’t get why.
Another feeling for the lockers.
Akaashi swung his head so he was completely facing him, “I cannot stop worrying, Bokuto-san. The possible futures I’m accustomed to analyze have turned on me. Every situation is poised on the verge of disaster. I cannot calm down enough to calm myself down.” He moved his hands from the tiles and started to twist his fingers. “How do you live like this? Or is it me? Are my thought processes toxic?”
Bokuto reached over and switched Akaashi’s hot water to cold.
“Sorry,” he said, but he couldn’t hear himself over the terrible screech Akaashi made.
Pretty embarrassing that Bokuto could make that kinda noise.
He couldn’t hold up his towel and make sure Akaashi didn’t fall. Akaashi could have held up his, maybe, but he was too pissed and shivering to care, so he kept it around his neck. So they walked back to the lockers buck naked. Skin to skin. A thing Bokuto shoved into the lockers even though it really didn’t wanna go.
“I know you’re mad, Akaaaashi, but it worked! I take cold showers all the time when I’m too hyped.”
Akaashi didn’t have much to say. He just leaned on Bokuto, favoring the ankle he hadn’t rolled. Really it seemed like he could walk, he was just scared to. Bokuto dropped his own towel on the bench for Akaashi to sit on, then dried off with his t-shirt. Well Akaashi’s t-shirt, which Akaashi’s super sweaty body had been wearing while Bokuto had been wearing Akaashi’s super-sweaty body.
It was better than nothing.
Everything still wasn’t as weird as he expected. Well, it was super weird, but for reasons other than being naked in Akaashi’s body. When he pulled up his underwear there were no incidents that required adjustments. He didn’t have to look down in general, and even if he caught an accidental glimpse of Akaashi’s dick, it wasn’t like he’d have to make awkward eye contact with himself. That was always the worst part.
That and getting looked at. But if Akaashi was looking over, it wasn’t like he’d be looking at Bokuto. He’d be looking at himself, and if the experience was anything like Bokuto’s, he’d probably be impressed. He definitely would be. For the sake of the team, their friendship, and common decency, Bokuto had only let himself look at Akaashi’s tight little ass five times. Each one of those times had been jerkoff fuel for weeks.
Guilty jerkoff fuel. He felt sick thinking about it now.
The sound of the plastic got his attention. Akaashi was just as fast a dresser in Bokuto’s body as his own. In his uniform, he was struggling to wrap the bag of ice around his ankle. Bokuto wasn’t much better at the job, but he at least didn’t have to reach to do it. He couldn’t remember how many wraps was enough so he just did a ton.
“Thank you,” Akaashi said, sounding a lot more normal. Well, kinda. “I apologize for all of… that. This is incredibly overwhelming. I will try to contain myself in future. The cold water really did help.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Bokuto loosely tied Akaashi’s shoe, and adjusted his sock while Akaashi swallowed down the morning pills then inhaled one of Bokuto’s onigiri. “That’s just my weak ankle, it does this sometimes, you know.”
“I sprain my right wrist much more easily,” Akaashi nodded as Bokuto stood up and put on Akaashi’s backpack, the jingle of the volleyball keychain he’d given him making him smile a little. He hung the strap of his own bag against his forehead and the held out his hand for Akaashi to take.
“I wasn’t being facetious.” Akaashi looked up but didn’t take his hand.
“Ehhh?” Bokuto didn’t know what “facetious” meant. Or really what that sentence meant at all.
“I wasn’t joking when I said–” Akaashi grabbed Bokuto’s hand midsentence and pulled. But he was strong now and Bokuto wasn’t anymore so what ended up happening was Bokuto got yanked down until they were face to face. Akaashi had surprised himself so much with the whole situation that he hadn’t stopped talking.
“–your penis is staggeringly large,” he told Bokuto while they were nose to nose, looking each other (or themselves?) in the eye.
Bokuto’s bag swung around and hit both of them in the face.