Saturday was both Koutarou and Keiji's favourite day of the week, and it had been ever since they had begun to live with each other. It meant time away from work and the stresses of life, time to share with each other even when it came to the most simple of things in life. Every two weeks, Saturday's meant time spent doing the laundry, a task that they shared and did together.

This was one such Saturday, and the couple hadn't been up to anything particularly noteworthy, unless of course doing the laundry was an event to remember. However, to the two of them it was special, as it meant more precious moments spent in each other's company. Especially for Koutarou, who originally had believed matching up pairs of socks and folding shirts wasn't the most interesting thing, he'd found joy in it through watching the way his husband neatly folded each item of clothing. It had been the other male that had taught him to fold just as neatly, tenderly guiding his hands to move the fabric and patiently demonstrating how to do it until Bokuto was confident in his abilities. Though that was a long time ago now, each time he helped with the laundry, Koutarou remembered it fondly.

They had been together for eight years, married for two, and not a day went by that he wasn't still completely enamoured and in love with Keiji. There was one question that lingered in the back of his mind though, one thing that he'd always intended to ask but never remembered to do so.

"Hey, Keiji?" Koutarou's voice was gentle as he spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence that the two of them had previously shared. Neither of them minded whether they talked or not when it came to laundry day; some days it was nice to converse about whatever things they felt like, and on others it was nice to just enjoy the quiet together.

The dark haired male looked up from the basket, a stripy sock in his hands, and ocean eyes met golden ones. "Yes, Bokuto-san?" he replied, smiling gently at Koutarou and resting the sock on his lap across his legs. There were two other socks without their pairs there already — one with a different striped pattern and one with owls — and he would match them up when he found the socks that matched from the basket. Right now though, Keiji's attention had been drawn away from the task at hand and to the man beside him, who'd tilted his head slightly (in that cute way that he did when he was confused or had a question, that he'd always done ever since they'd met).

Koutarou paused for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows as he continued on to his question. "How come you still call me Bokuto-san, after dating for eight years and being married for two of them?"

It was a valid question; they had been together for a very long time, and Bokuto had been calling him by his first name for a while. Sure, there was the occasional 'Kaashi, but that was a lot less often since they had wed and Keiji's last name became Bokuto. There was no reason Koutarou shouldn't have asked about it, and it was a surprise he hadn't asked earlier, but he simply hadn't been prepared for it to surface at a time like this. His cheeks began to heat up, painting them a shade of pinkish-red that was too obvious to even attempt to hide.

The question was completely innocent, yet it was a question with an answer that Keiji simply wouldn't even know how to begin to explain. Though he was certain his husband would find the reasoning behind it adorable — he had already lit up when he saw the blush begin to appear, and Keiji had to avert his gaze from those adoring golden eyes to try and prevent his cheeks taking on a deeper shade of red — he wasn't so willing to let go of this secret just yet. That, and there was no simple way to describe the way he felt, no words that he could piece together that would do those feelings justice.

Keiji held his hand up to his chin, trying his best to think of something to say, some way to either explain or say something at all. "I-"

"Woah! Why are you blushing?" Koutarou questioned, clearly even more intrigued, judging by the tone of voice. It was the same way he sounded when he asked about what certain words meant, with curiosity, amazement and an eagerness to discover more about the answer. For a second, it was tempting for him to just blurt out the story and get it over with, but then he heard him laugh softly and say "You're so cute, Keiji!" and decided against it.

Even to this day, Koutarou always managed to brighten up the world around him, oftentimes making him fall in love all over again because of the smallest of things. Keiji didn't like to admit it, but even without realising it, his husband could make his heart race and create butterflies in his stomach just as easily as he'd been able to when they were still in highschool. Sometimes, Keiji heard his laugh, felt his hands run through his hair, or watched him fold up shirts, and he felt the same overwhelming feeling of love and that same tender warmth he'd always felt when it came to Bokuto. Now was one of those moments, sitting on their couch folding clothes on a regular Saturday, when Keiji just looked over at Koutarou and knew he was so utterly in love with him and never wanted it to end.

The first time he'd ever felt that way was also the answer to the question Bokuto had asked. Eight years ago, when the both of them were still in highschool, the day that they'd confessed their love to each other. It had been Koutarou that had taken him to the park one afternoon when training was called off, they'd gotten Icecream and just wandered around together until the sun began to set. Yet, it had been Keiji that had gotten the guts to spill how he felt, in a very un-Akaashi like fashion with stutters and all, wanting to confess before the other graduated and left him behind and there was no chance to do so. It wasn't that Bokuto would leave him altogether, he wasn't that type of person, but Akaashi had been afraid that if he didn't act he would lose the chance to be with him in the way he longed to be. He didn't think he would be able to handle it if Koutarou had gone off to university and found some other guy or girl.

It certainly hadn't been his intention to reveal his feelings that day, but Koutarou had led him around by the hand, holding his so gently and smiling at him with such tenderness that it made him want to melt. And then near the end of the day, when Keiji had stumbled his way through his breathless and quite frankly love struck confession, Bokuto had cupped his cheek and pulled him in for a kiss. It had been the first time either of them had kissed someone, and the first kiss of many that they'd shared, but for Keiji it was the most wonderful kiss he'd ever had in the entirety of their eight years. Even on their wedding day, he'd thought back to that first kiss, and remembered it with fondness. It was soft, shy, and only lasted for a moment, and accompanied with a look of such love in those golden eyes, the gentle brushing of a calloused hand against his cheek, and a whisper he couldn't contain.

"Bokuto-san," he'd whispered lovingly, looking up at the face that he'd grown so indescribably fond of, unable to find the right words to say. Koutarou had looked back at him with a loving smile, his expression so soft in comparison to the usual extreme emotions it displayed, and Keiji's heart was full of the warmth of the joy of knowing that their feelings were mutual.

With one of his hands he had gently grabbed the other's tie, ready to pull him in for another kiss, when Bokuto had uttered the very words that had stuck with him for the entirety of the eight years they'd been together. "'Kaashi, you calling me like that is my favourite thing in the world now..." he'd murmured, caressing Keiji's cheek and leaning in just a little closer. "Let me hear it forever."

His heart that was beating fast in his chest skipped a beat, breathlessly whispering a 'stop it, Bokuto-san' before he bridged the gap between their lips once more, giving Koutarou a soft kiss. Even back then, he'd been so in love with Bokuto Koutarou, so much more than he'd ever been able to express with words. Keiji had tried many times to write down how he felt, but the closest he'd ever come to being able to describe the overwhelming, unending sense of care and warmth that was love was his vows for their wedding.

That was why he was blushing, why he couldn't answer properly, because calling him Bokuto-san was his own little way of expressing his love. He associated that memory and those words with the love he felt that day, the same love he still felt each and every day for Koutarou, and the love he knew Koutarou felt for him. Perhaps the use of first names was a sign of intimacy, but each time Keiji called him 'Bokuto-san', it was just like he was saying 'I love you'. He liked to call him Bokuto-san, because Keiji knew that each time he did so he couldn't keep the fondness out of his voice, and hoped that it could show Koutarou even just some of how much he truly loved him when no words seemed to go the job well enough.

And so, instead of trying to figure out how to explain it all — it would be a jumbled mess, just like his confession had been eight years ago — Keiji blushed and came up with a lame excuse that he hoped would be enough of an answer for Koutarou. "I... I guess I just got used to it..." he mumbled, his eyes flickering over to his husband to watch his response, and finding his heart fluttering when he saw the look he was given. It was a somewhat dumbfounded one, and it was clear Bokuto had been expecting something a lot deeper than that, but it was sweet and Keiji couldn't help but find it adorable. Koutarou had always been quite visually and verbally expressive, and Keiji loved seeing all his different expressions, especially when he usually expressed things in a lot more subtle ways himself. The key word there was usually; some days, just like today, his blush and shy smile did all of the expression for him.

"Why are you so embarrassed, Keiji?"

It was rare that he blushed so darkly, or struggled to answer calmly like usual. Though it confused Koutarou, he loved seeing him flustered nonetheless, because it really was cute. There was no answer to the question that time, Keiji having returned to finding the socks to make pairs with the three on his lap, and Koutarou's expression softened.

It was a Saturday afternoon, his husband Bokuto Keiji was sitting beside him, and they were folding clothes together. They returned to a comfortable silence, and Koutarou smiled to himself, his gaze constantly returning to the dark haired male as he himself finished up folding the last of their shirts. Perhaps not all questions needed to be answered, he was content with being able to see that adorable blush anyway. Perhaps Koutarou didn't remember what he'd said that day, but he still loved hearing the way Keiji said his name; he could never grow tired of hearing the loving way he said 'Bokuto-san', and he wouldn't complain if that continued for the rest of their lives together.