Chapter Text
“Shhh! I said don't tell!” Bokuto’s hand hovers above the child’s mouth, unable to clamp down like he would prefer. The beaded bracelets gifted to him by various campers (in different sizes) clack and swing as he flails.
Unfortunately, camp policy prohibits the counselors from touching the kids in any way that isn’t a high five, fist bump, or side hug. Which is for the best, really, but, you know kids! You tell one kid your business and suddenly everyone knows.
Kenji, the child in question, simply grins. Bokuto’s heart drops
“I won’t tell if you trade me one of your owl-bands.” Kenji holds out one of his hands, the other coming up to pull his name tag off his neck. It clatters with beaded bracelets, almost twenty of the aforementioned owl-bands and the decorated plastic name tag that all of the kids wear. Bokuto sighs, unhooking his own name tag from his neck and bending to the child’s level.
“Which one?”
“The rarest one.”
“I hate to break it to you, but they’re all the same.”
“No, Tomura said that the ones with patterns are rare.” Kenji points a sticky finger to the blue-green band with white tiny owls on it. The owls go all the way around, only breaking to fit “Camp f*ckurodani” in small, white, blocky letters. It’s Bokuto’s favorite. He grimaces.
“Pick a different one.”
Kenji is insistent, holding up his lanyard and showing Bokuto the various bands that have been clipped onto the lanyard. Bokuto vaguely wonders if the lanyard is heavy.
“I need that one Counselor Bokuto, it’s rare.”
There’s no arguing with children, and Bokuto’s sure that he can go to the camp store and get a new one for free. He could get as many as he wants for free. Yuki sure as hell wouldn't care. One of the benefits of being a counselor. So, he sighs and unclasps the lanyard, pulling the owl-band off, and holding it out to Kenji. If his hand shakes and he grimaces as Kenji's sticky fingers grasp the wristband from his outstretched hand, that's his business.
“Promise you won’t tell?” Bokuto looks around slightly, the woods around them are full of people, kids and counselors alike, and Kenji, one of Bokuto’s favorite campers (although he’s fallen down the list slightly after this incident) has one of the loudest voices ever, not unlike his own.
“What? That you have the biggest crush on Counselor Akaashi?”
Bokuto groans inwardly, nodding furiously as he clasps the lanyard back together, slipping it back over his head, and adjusting his nametag where it lays flat on his chest, protected by the little plastic sleeve it sits in.
“Yes. That.”
Kenji nods enthusiastically, unclasping his own lanyard and slipping the owl-band on. Bokuto watches as his favorite wristband joins Kenji’s hoard of others.
“You know, the owl-band you just traded me…” Bokuto feels as though there was no trade. In fact, he feels robbed and manipulated more than anything.
“... It kind of looks like Counselor Akaashi’s eyes.”
That's precisely why that particular owl-band had been his favorite. Not to mention the cute little owls that decorated the band.
Bokuto puts his hands on his hips and co*cks an eyebrow at Kenji, watching as the latter dissolved into giggles as he ran off, shouting to his friends that ‘he got the owl-band, now who wants to trade?’ A sigh leaves Bokuto’s chest, as he watches the group of boys gather into a circle, chirping about who had the rarest wristband, and how much they would be worth. Nothing. They’re worth nothing. Camp f*ckurodani gets them delivered in bulk before camp. Hundreds of random colors and designs of plastic wristbands, all with “Camp f*ckurodani” printed on them, get shipped to the camp before the season starts. There is absolutely no hierarchy or level of rarity between the different bands.
In fact, if Kenji really wanted, he could have gone to the camp store and just told them he picked up 5 pieces of trash to get a new owl-band. There’s no way they would know. And maybe Bokuto would have his favorite owl-band back.
There’s a low whistle behind him, and the cracking of sticks and leaves before Kuroo slings an arm around his shoulders and laughs in his ear. Well, cackles is more accurate to the sound that makes its way out of Kuroo.
“Kenji-kun got you good, huh.”
“Shut up.”
