Archive of Our Own

“You’re sure you don’t want her number?”

“Yeah, man, I’m good. She’s not my type, really.”

Kenma’s hand pauses on the doorknob of the apartment. Firstly because he didn’t know that Bokuto was over, and secondly because he wasn’t aware that Kuroo had a type. He was always going on about how he likes a person because of what’s on the inside, and that their looks are always just a bonus that he doesn’t have a preference for. He’s literally a nerd with no game that somehow pulls.

Whatever.

He turns the doorknob and of course, it’s unlocked. Kuroo always forgets to lock the door to their apartment when he has friends over. He slips off his shoes without untying their laces and trudges over to the kitchen.

“Kenma!” Bokuto waves eagerly, catching Kenma off guard even though he knew it was coming. He glances up at him in greeting as he puts down his bag. Bokuto looks overjoyed to see him, but Kuroo looks… startled? “Come look! I was telling Kuroo about this girl that wanted his number!”

Kenma is slow in making his way over. He doesn’t really want to be a part of this conversation, and Kuroo seems to sense that.

“Bo, don’t drag him into this,” he whines. “Kenma doesn’t want to be burdened by the qualms of my love life.”

Kuroo’s right about that. Kenma, quite frankly, would greatly appreciate it if he was excluded from this conversation. It’s not that he finds Kuroo’s love life boring—Kenma doesn’t want to hear about it because he’s hopelessly in love with the guy. He really doesn’t want to know whether or not randos are helping his best friend get his dick wet.

But Kenma has to act normal, so he slides himself between Bokuto and Kuroo to take a look at the instagram profile Bokuto has pulled up. She is attractive, sure—even a gay man like Kenma can acknowledge when a girl is good looking. She has long hair, dyed red, and soft eyes.

“It’s fine, Kuro. I really don’t care.” What a liar he is. He spares at glance at Kuroo, who looks mildly uncomfortable. “Yeah, she’s pretty.”

“She’s not my type,” Kuroo croaks. He sounds unsure.

“You don’t have a type,” Kenma reminds him. “It’s also fine if you don’t want her number. I’m gonna take a shower.”

Bokuto, who’s been quiet this whole time, suddenly gasps. “Oh!”

Kenma’s already walking away, so he doesn’t see Kuroo hit Bokuto over the head. He hears it, though, and doesn’t bother sparing a glance over his shoulder. He catches a bit of their conversation as he closes the door to the bathroom.

“Bro, you could’ve just told me that you—”

“Shut up! Bo, shut up, shut up, shut up—”

Kenma doesn’t want to know what was going on there. He just turns the shower to the hottest setting and lets the water burn his skin.

It makes him feel icky, whenever Kuroo brings up romance. Kenma doesn’t have a problem with love or relationships—he just has a problem with Kuroo’s. Kenma doesn’t want to think about what’s going to happen when Kuroo starts dating someone that isn’t him.

Because Kenma is almost certain that his feelings are unrequited. Kuroo just doesn’t see him that way; they’ve known each other since childhood and while Kenma has always secretly been a little in love, Kuroo has never expressed the same sentiment. It’s not like Kenma’s in love with a straight man, though. Kuroo’s had his fair share of male hookups. It’s really inconvenient actually. Sometimes Kenma will come home to hear noises he wishes he didn’t and then force himself into a cold shower where he inevitably rubs one out. His guilty post-shower thoughts always end up reminding Kenma that Kuroo does in fact like men, just not him.

It seems like Bokuto’s gone by the time Kenma’s done his shower, judging by the quiet. It’s honestly kind of a good thing, since Kenma forgot his lip balm in his bag and really doesn’t want to see Bokuto while half-naked. He doesn’t think twice about walking into the living room with the towel slung low on his hips, hair still dripping wet. He can clean up any droplets that get on the floor later (AKA he’ll wait for them to dry up on their own). 

Kuroo’s on the couch, fiddling with the remote as he searches for something to watch on YouTube. His gaze falls on Kenma when he walks in, dropping from his face to his bare chest.

“Sorry about earlier,” he calls over.

Kenma retrieves his lip balm before responding. “I said earlier that I don’t care, Kuro. It’s fine.”

He pauses in front of the couch. Kuroo’s still looking at his torso. Is he really so embarrassed that he can’t look Kenma in the eyes?

“Movie?” Kenma asks. A peace offering, if that’s what’s needed.

It seems like it is, judging by how Kuroo lights up and finally looks Kenma in the eyes. “Can I choose?”

“Only if it’s not Wreck-it Ralph again,” Kenma calls over his shoulder on the way back to his room. He doesn’t bother drying his hair, only changing into his pajamas before reentering the living room. Kuroo, like an idiot, has Wreck-it Ralph on the screen. “Kuro.”

Kuroo grins up at him sheepishly. “Perks instead?”

Perks of Being a Wallflower was the other movie he was going to say they won’t be rewatching. Kenma swears that Kuroo is only aware of ten movies, total. He sighs. “Fine.”

Kuroo cheers, reaching out to pull Kenma onto the couch. Kenma ends up basically lying on top of Kuroo’s lap, who seems completely unaware of the inner turmoil he just caused. This is fine. Kenma can be normal. He tries to settle in, lets Kuroo throw a blanket over the two of them and start the movie.

It’s barely fifteen minutes into the movie when Kuroo starts fidgeting slightly. Kenma lets him do what he wants, but when it doesn’t stop in a few minutes, he clears his throat. “Washroom?”

Kuroo furrows his brow, looking into Kenma’s eyes for a second before understanding. “Oh, yeah! Gimme a sec.”

He gently manuevers Kenma out of his lap and skips to the washroom like a fucking loser. Kenma tries to ignore the feeling stirring in his gut. He always forgets how strong Kuroo is, and then he does something like manhandling Kenma with minimal effort that makes Kenma’s head spin. He sits there, dazed, until Kuroo returns.

Kuroo grins as he slides back under the blanket and pulls Kenma close to him again. At least Kenma’s not in his lap this time. Now he’ll be able to form coherent thoughts. Probably.

Kenma waits for Kuroo to resume the movie. The guy looks at him instead.

“What?” Kenma stares back.

Kuroo’s hand moves to run through Kenma’s hair. He just touches the blond parts, only grown out an inch from the roots. Kenma leans into the touch like a cat as Kuroo combs through his damp hair. “Your hair’s getting long.”

He’s right, it is. Kenma usually keeps his hair a bit longer than chin length, but it’s well past his shoulders right now. It’s almost as if he knows that Kuroo tends to go for people with longer hair. “What, does it look bad?”

“No, no!” Kuroo scrambles to reassure him. “I just don’t think it’s ever been this long… Looks good.”

Kenma hums and wills his cheeks to not turn pink. “Start the movie, Kuro.”

Kuroo obliges, his hand not halting its combing motions.

Kenma falls asleep to the feeling.

Kuroo hasn’t been on a date in a while.

Kenma knows this because Kuroo has a certain cologne he wears on dates. A little bit more expensive than the one he wears everyday. It’s basically the same smell but more fancy to hype me up, Kuroo explained to him once. Kenma pretended not to listen, but every time he hears Kuroo getting ready to go out, he sticks his head out into the hallway to see if he can smell it.

Kuroo isn’t getting ready for a date tonight, but he is getting ready for something. Kenma hears Bokuto, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Hinata from inside Kuroo’s room, so it’s a party of some sort.

Kenma’s plans for the night consist of staying in his room and doing nothing. So naturally, he gets stopped by Oikawa as he’s walking to the kitchen to get snacks.

“Ken Ken!” He sings. Kenma shrinks into himself as Oikawa drapes himself over Kenma’s shoulders. He’s clearly tipsy already, meaning that they’re pregaming in Kuroo’s room. “You should come with us to the party!”

“Um—” Kenma tries to think of an excuse, but then Hinata appears beside him and he knows it's hopeless.

“Kenmaaa!” He grins widely, tugging at Kenma’s arm and freeing him from Oikawa. “Be my plus one! Kageyama’s at Akaashi’s with Saku ‘cause they all didn’t want to come so I miss my boyfriend and I don’t want to be lonely!”

“Hi, Shouyou,” Kenma mutters. “I guess I could.” No point putting up a fight you know you’re going to lose. Quit the game and try again later.

“I can help with your outfit!” Oikawa cheers. “And makeup!”

Kenma feels like a doll for the next few minutes, with Oikawa forcing him into multiple outfits and telling him to spin every time he’s wearing something new. Kenma’s exhausted by the time that Oikawa decides on a black, mesh long sleeve with a black cropped tank underneath. He tried to get Kenma into a skirt, but Hinata saved Kenma’s ass there.

“He’s already out of his comfort zone, Oika,” Hinata whines. He’s pulling Kenma’s hair into a half-up half-down bun as he says this. “Just put him in some cargo pants and let me do his makeup!”

So Oikawa obeys, shoving Kenma into the pants and then using a shoelace to tighten the waistband. He says something about Kenma having a slutty man waist. Kenma wishes he never left his room to get snacks. He never even ended up getting those snacks. Bummer.

Hinata’s trying to convince Kenma to wear more makeup than just eyeliner when Kuroo walks in.

“Kenma, have you seen my eyeliner— oh.”

Kenma, who just finished getting that done, holds up the tube. Hinata has him pushed up against the wall, multiple makeup products in hand. Hinata never has a gauge on his surroundings when drunk and doesn’t even stop trying to get sparkles on Kenma’s eyelids.

“Are you coming with us?” Kuroo blurts. His eyes are wide as they jump up and down Kenma’s outfit. Kenma wonders if it’s because he looks stupid. Hinata uses the moment to wipe glitter on one eyelid. Kenma suddenly feels self-conscious, pushing Hinata off him and muttering an apology when the guy crashes into Oikawa. They both tumble onto Kenma’s bed.

“Unprovoked!” Hinata wails from where his face is squished against Oikawa.

“Uh, yeah,” Kenma replies. He walks over to give Kuroo the eyeliner. “I was going to stay in, but Shouyou wanted company or something.”

“Ah.” Kuroo blinks. Clears his throat. “You look nice.”

Kenma shrugs. That’s fucking rich, coming from him. Kuroo looks too nice, and if Kenma didn’t know that Kuroo was a terrible nerd then he would be at a loss for words. “I didn’t do anything, it was all them.”

“Yeah!” Hinata hollers. “It was us!”

“I showed off his slutty man waist!” Oikawa yells.

“You gonna drink?” Kuroo asks lightly. He’s pretending to ignore the other two. Kenma might be imagining things, but he swears Kuroo’s eyes flit down for a second at Oikawa’s words.

Kenma shrugs again. “Dunno if I’ll make it through the night otherwise.”

Kuroo cracks a smile at that. “There’s a bunch of shit in my room if you want. We’re leaving in twenty-ish, though, so.”

Kenma hums. “Shouyou needs to finish my makeup, first.”

“Right!” Oikawa leaps up and tries to push Kuroo out of the room. “Stop eyefucking him and let Shorty do his job!”

Kuroo sputters. He steps to the side and Oikawa, who was trying to use brute force to remove him from the doorway, tumbles past him with a shriek. Kuroo lets out a pleased cackle. Kenma closes the door in his face.

He lets out a pained, deep breath and knocks his forehead against the wood. It took so much strength to avoid shutting down and staring at Kuroo the whole time he was in there. He was wearing a silk shirt, for fuck’s sake, with too many buttons undone to be considered appropriate. At that point, just don’t wear a shirt and let Kenma see it all!

“You okay, Kenma?”

Kenma jumps, having forgotten that Hinata was still in his room. He turns and immediately wants to run away. Hinata’s giving him the look, which means-

“You aren’t drinking tonight?” Kenma grimaces when Hinata nods. Of fucking course he’s been sober this whole time.

“Told Tobio I wouldn’t. He likes being there to make sure I don’t die!” Now that he thinks about it, his eyeliner is too good to have been done by a tipsy Hinata. Kenma sighs and goes to sit on his bed beside him. Hinata swallows. “You know what I’m going to say, right?”

Kenma groans, letting his head fall on Hinata’s shoulder. He feels Hinata shift and then glitter’s being swiped on his bare eyelid. “I’m not going to tell him, Shouyou.”

“Oh, that’s not what I was going to say!” Hinata laughs brightly, grinning at him once Kenma looks over in confusion. “Well, yeah, it would be better if you just told Kuroo that you’re in love with him—”

“Keep it down—”

“But I was going to tell you that you could get fucked up tonight and I could watch over you!” Hinata nudges their shoulders together. “Because I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think watching him from afar while sober is going to be fun.”

“Yeah,” Kenma sighs. “Yeah, okay.”

The smile Hinata gives him feels a lot like pity. Whatever. He pushes off the bed and heads to Kuroo’s room with Hinata on his tail.

Bokuto and Oikawa cheer when he walks in, which makes Kuroo cackle. Kenma ignores them and heads over to Iwaizumi, who seems to be guarding the booze.

“Hey. Good to see you, man.” Iwaizumi offers him a grin and a nod.

Kenma offers him a smile and glances over at the drinks.

“You want anything? I’m just making sure no one mixes shit and then gets super fucked up,” Iwaizumi says this with narrowed eyes looking in Oikawa’s direction. “I didn’t know you were coming with us tonight.”

“Me neither,” Kenma grumbles. He debates just having a vodka soda or something more diluted, which is what he usually does when he goes out. But then he hears Bokuto telling Kuroo that his eyeliner looks soooo sexy, looks over to see that Bokuto is in fact correct, and changes his mind. “Vodka?”

Iwaizumi hands him the bottle and a shot glass. “Iced tea?”

Kenma accepts the chaser with a quiet thanks, cracking open the can before pouring a shot. He feels Hinata watching over his shoulder as he downs the first shot and then some iced tea. Kenma has another shot right after. 

Oikawa wolf whistles, which gets Kuroo and Bokuto’s attention. “Ken Ken, do a shot with me!”

“You’ve had enough, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi retorts immediately.

“Kenma, you’ve never done shots with me!” Kuroo whines from across the room. 

“Or me!” Bokuto calls. Kenma looks at them both blankly.

Meanwhile, Oikawa and Iwaizumi are having some sort of gay staredown. They’re still not together, and Kenma doesn’t know how that is.

 “How many have you had?” Iwaizumi is saying.

Oikawa holds up two fingers and sticks out his tongue. “Iwa-chan worries too much! Three shots will be nothing!”

With a sigh, Iwaizami takes Kenma’s shot glass and pours the next shot for him, along with two others. Oikawa flits over, taking one of the glasses as Iwaizumi downs his shot and steals a sip of Oikawa’s chaser.

Oikawa waits patiently for Kenma to pick up his glass and then twists their arms together. He counts them down, but Kenma is still caught off guard by the strong taste. Ew. His face twists and he gulps down some more iced tea. This is why he doesn’t do shots.

Another reason why he doesn’t do shots: they severely fuck him up.

He sort of forgot about that part, so now he’s in some random frat house, drunk out of his mind and trying to form a single thought that doesn’t have to do with Kuroo. He’ll feel bad about subjecting Hinata to this later.

“I fucking hate him,” Kenma declares. “He’s so hot. How dare he leave us like this. Stupid hot nerd.”

“He’s literally dancing with the rest of our friends, Kenma,” Hinata says patiently. “You could join him.”

“No, because!” Kenma doesn’t offer any further explanation. He slumps down the wall and takes a seat on the floor. It’s nice down here. “Because.”

“Okay,” Hinata agrees. Kenma thinks Hinata’s agreeing. Probably. “Stay here, okay? I’m gonna find you some water.”

Kenma hears himself agree. Hinata disappears into a crowd of people. The lights here are changing colours and Kenma likes it. He doesn’t like the volume of the music, and if he were sober he’d definitely be anxious as hell because of how many people are present. He stands up and decides to find Kuroo, who disappeared from his line of sight. What a good idea. Kenma pats himself on the back.

He stumbles through the crowds, through the living room, through more people. He almost runs into the couch, but an arm stops him.

“Thanks,” Kenma giggles. He starts to move again, but the hand doesn’t let go of him. It belongs to a guy he doesn’t know, Kenma finds out when he turns around. The guy is taller than him, a brunette, and he has a nice smile. Tall, dark, and hands. Or whatever the saying is.

“Hey, I’ve never seen you before! You’re cute!” He exclaims. Involuntarily, Kenma smiles back. He registers his actions and stops the smile. Gross.

“I don’t go to these often,” Kenma informs him. “I just needed to get wasted.”

“Damn, man.” The stranger laughs. It’s a pleasant sound, and Kenma actually doesn’t mind his presence. This is abnormal for him. “I hope you’re having an okay time, at least.”

“Yeah, I guess I am. You wanna know a secret?” He finds himself saying. Why not tell him? He’s never going to see this guy again, probably. Kenma’s really hoping that, because the guy nods so Kenma starts blabbing. “I’m in love with my best friend and I’m like ninety-nine percent sure he doesn’t love me back because he hooks up with people that aren’t me. That’s why I needed to get wasted! And now my other friend left me to go get water, right, so I left to go find Kuro. But that’s a secret.”

“Yeah of course, your secret’s safe with me.” The guy readjusts his grip, moving his hand from Kenma’s arm to his waist. “Well, I mean, there goes my plans to make a move on you. Now I feel like I shouldn’t y’know, given your situation.”

Kenma frowns. “Can I take back my secret?”

The stranger laughs again. Either Kenma is really funny, or this guy laughs very easily when drunk. “I don’t think that’s how it works, sweetheart.”

Kenma groans in defeat.

“Well…” The tone of his voice makes Kenma perk up. “I mean, I could be a distraction if you want? To get your mind off of the guy?”

Kenma furrows his brow. “That seems pretty douchey of me.”

“Not if I’m offering. It doesn’t have to mean anything, either.”

Kenma pauses to think about it. He can’t really think about anything clearly right now and the lights are distracting him, but it’s the effort that counts, right?

“I keep getting mesmerized by how pretty you are. Ah, fuck it,” The guy shakes his head and then looks down at Kenma’s lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Kenma’s caught off guard for a moment. Yeah, fuck it. He nods.

The guy leans in and closes the gap between them. He tastes like rum and coke and Kenma knows that Kuroo wouldn’t taste like this.

Stop thinking about Kuro, he thinks before deepening the kiss.

When their tongues meet, the guy groans, hands reaching up to tangle through Kenma’s hair. Kenma whines when he tugs lightly on the strands, whines louder when he feels his bottom lip getting teased. Kenma’s hands grab at the stranger’s shirt, pulling him closer.

Kenma would never do this sober. He’s never been the type to make out with a stranger at a party, he’s never run away from his friends while drunk, never kissed someone else to distract him from Kuroo.

(The last one’s a lie.)

They separate, only for kisses to be trailed down Kenma’s neck. He feels lightheaded when he feels the guy bite down slightly, hands jumping to his hair to keep him in place. Then he’s kissing and sucking on one spot and then another and Kenma vaguely thinks it’s a bad idea to let a stranger mark him up but right now he really couldn’t care less.

Kenma lets out a shaky breath when the guy pulls away. He likes the feeling he’s getting from the guy’s gaze, full of want. The stranger smiles at him then, much more gentle than Kenma expected. His hands move down to Kenma’s waist again. “Hey, do you want to—”

“Kenma!”

The two of them turn at the voice, the guy simply mirroring Kenma, whose blood runs cold at the sight of Kuroo coming towards them. He looks mad. Why does he look mad? Also, why does he look sexy when he looks mad? Kenma mentally slaps himself for that last thought.

Kuroo stops right in front of them, making Kenma wonder when he got backed up against a nearby wall. Watching Kuroo size up the stranger, Kenma realizes that Kuroo isn’t mad at him.

“Kuro,” Kenma says softly. The hands leave Kenma’s waist, making him look up at the stranger momentarily. Kenma can’t really tell because things are getting more fuzzy, but he thinks that something flashes across the guy's face. Realization? 

“Hey, man,” he says, hands going up in some sort of peace offering. “Can I help you?”

Kenma watches Kuroo look between the two of them. Watches Kuroo’s eyes trail between their kiss-bitten lips, their messy hair. Kuroo’s eyes narrow when they reach Kenma’s neck, the red marks on them that will most likely darken and be there for a few more days. Shit.

“Kenma, is he bothering you?” Kuroo demands. Kenma shakes his head, but Kuroo keeps going and takes a step closer to the guy. “He’s drunk out of his fucking mind, man, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing!” Kenma thinks fear flashes in the guy’s eyes, and he feels bad. He didn’t mean to sic Kuroo on him. He steps between them, a little wobbly but very serious.

“Kuro, back up,” he has one hand on Kuroo’s chest now, the other on the stranger’s. He tries his very best not to slur his speech. “He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to, ‘kay?”

“Ken, you’re drunk,” Kuroo tells him.

“All three of us are, genius,” Kenma reminds him with as much conviction as he can muster.

“I don’t want anyone to take advantage of you.” Kenma’s eye twitches. Kuroo has no right to tell him that. He doesn’t.

“He’s not!” Kenma snaps loudly, surprising all three of them. He lowers his voice a little. Probably. With every sentence, he pokes at Kuroo’s chest. Kenma’s face twists, and he thinks that he’s making his ew face. “He’s not taking advantage of me, ‘kay? I’m a fucking adult, I can drink as much as I want and fuck whoever the fuck I want. You’re not my fucking boyfriend, Kuroo.”

The last sentence seems to shake Kuroo to his core. His mouth falls open.

“Kenma, there you are!” Hinata, bless his soul, parks himself in front of the three of them with two water bottles in his hand. He seems to be unaware of the situation. Kenma waits. “I told you to stay put over there! I got you water, and— oh! Um.”

Hinata, the angel, grasps what’s happening soon enough and turns to Kuroo.

“Um. I think Bo’s throwing up.”

It’s completely obvious that he’s lying out of his ass, but thankfully Kuroo’s too drunk to notice.

“Shit,” Kuroo unfreezes, already moving to go find Bokuto, completely oblivious to the blatant lie. Before he goes, he catches Kenma’s eye. He looks like he wants to say something. But he doesn’t, leaving the three of them without another word.

As soon as he’s gone, Hinata rounds on the other guy. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Sam,” the guy tells him. Hm. That seems like something Kenma probably should’ve asked for earlier. Sam, for the second time that night, puts his hands up as a sign of peace. “I’m innocent, I think.”

Kenma reaches for Hinata’s arm and clings to him for an eloquent effect. “He is, Shouyou. I was like ‘yes’ and stuff.”

The guy—Sam—huffs out a laugh. “I should probably go.”

Hinata nods. “I’m sure you’re a great guy, like, I hope you’re a great guy, but yeah. Personally, if Kuroo looked at me like that I’d be moving to the next country. Unprovoked.”

“Yeah, I was actually gonna do that,” Sam jokes. He turns to Kenma and smiles. “For what it’s worth, sweetheart, I hope everything works out with your guy. Seems like you have less to worry about than you thought.”

Kenma thinks he thanks Sam before he goes. He’s not really sure, because he’s trying to understand what Sam meant by that and Hinata doesn’t look very pleased with him. Although he’s not usually scared of short gingers, Hinata can be a little intimidating at times.

“Are those hickeys?” Hinata groans, opening one of the water bottles and shoving it into Kenma’s hands. He gives Kenma the time to down half of it. “Kenma, what were you thinking?”

“Wasn’t,” Kenma says helpfully.

“Yeah, I can tell!” Hinata looks at him reproachfully for one more second. Then he bursts out laughing. The noise is contagious and Kenma laughs with him, even though he’s confused. Hinata laughs until he’s gasping for air. “You should’ve seen Kuroo’s face, oh my fuck! Well, I guess you did, but— What did you even say to him?”

“Told him he’s not my boyfriend.” Kenma thinks that’s what it was, yeah. Hinata lets out a shocked squawk at that.

“Jesus, we need to get you home before you do something even more stupid unprovoked,” Hinata shakes his head. He waits until Kenma latches onto him to start making his way through the crowd. Hinata pulls Kenma out of the way when someone goes crashing by them. He raises his voice so that Kenma can hear him. How kind! “You’re not like this when you’re sober.”

“You’re not you when you’re hungry,” Kenma recites quietly. He doesn’t think Hinata hears him. He wants to go home and play video games.

“We should find the others and tell them that we’re leaving— oh, fuck.”

Hinata stops so abruptly that Kenma crashes into his back. “Ow.”

“Um, I think we could just text them actually! Yeah! Let’s go, Kenma!”

“What—” Kenma lurches when Hinata pulls him, planting his feet firmly on the ground. “Why?”

“We just should, okay, so—”

Kenma sees what Hinata’s trying to keep from him. He’s trying to tug him away but the action is of no avail because Kenma sees it. He wishes he could unsee it. “Oh.”

Hinata swears beside him.

It’s Kuroo. Of course it’s Kuroo, crowded against a wall with his head thrown back. His hands pull at the long hair of some blonde girl as she sucks on his neck. She’s leaving a trail of angry hickeys in her wake. Now she’s starting to move down to his chest, where it’s exposed because of that goddamn silk shirt. Kuroo’s eyes open, head lolling to the side. Somehow, their eyes meet across the room.

Kenma’s stuck in place. He can’t look away. What the fuck, what the fuck. Kuroo’s eyes break contact with Kenma’s when they squeeze shut. Kuroo gasps when the girls hits a sensitive spot, and why the hell can Kenma hear it even with the distance between them and the music and the people and— 

Kenma wants to punch a wall. 

Unfortunately, Hinata succeeds in dragging him outside before he can. Kenma doesn’t realize he’s crying until Hinata’s cooing at him and wiping at his face. Why is he even crying? None of this matters. One second Kuroo’s acting like he cares, the next he’s feeling up some girl. Whatever. Kuroo’s not his, never will be.

He must’ve said some of that outloud, because Hinata’s pulling him into his arms and telling him that their Uber will be there in a minute.

It’s never been like that before. Sure, Kenma’s literally heard Kuroo hooking up with people through the walls of their apartment, he’s heard stories about Kuroo’s hookups from Bokuto oversharing. But he’s never seen Kuroo like that, disheveled with eyes hooded from lust. He hates that it made his gut twist, hates how worked up it got him, hates that it wasn’t him.

Kenma doesn’t really remember the ride home. He remembers Hinata’s arms, the leather seats, and Kuroo. Hinata’s helping Kenma take off his shoes at the door of the apartment when he finally speaks.

“Shouyou,” Kenma mumbles, waiting for Hinata to hum before continuing. “Will you cut my hair?”

Hinata’s eyes shoot up from Kenma’s shoes. “Huh?”

“My hair,” Kenma repeats. “I want to chop it off, but I’m still a little drunk and I don’t want to cut off my ear by accident.”

“What?”

“You should understand that art student reference.”

“Yeah, I did,” Hinata helps Kenma to his feet. “I just— Kenma, why?”

“I wanna,” Kenma pouts, uncharacteristically childish.

“This can’t be unprovoked. Does this have to do with Kuroo?”

“…No.” A lie.

“I guess I can’t really stop you, but can you at least wait until morning when you’re sober?”

“…No.” A truth. Hinata sighs, but Kenma sees the smile tugging at his lips. It makes him feel giddy, which is why he offers, “I’ll sign a contract to not hurt you in the morning if I regret it.”

Hinata laughs loudly. “Yeah, okay, Kenma. Wait— Kenma?”

But Kenma is gone, stumbling to his room in search of a piece of paper. There’s none in his desk, so he has to rip it from one of his notebooks, but whatever. Clumsily, he writes some words down and hopes they make sense before signing it off with his fancy signature.

Hinata’s already in the bathroom when Kenma goes to find him. He’s pulling out the hair-cutting scissors from the drawer and Kenma feels a burst of warmth towards his friend.

“Here,” he says, presenting the sheet with a flourishing motion.

Hinata plucks the paper from him and reads it outloud, a little smile on his face. “‘Contract to not hurt Shouyou Hinata if he fucks up my hair slash if I regret it.’ And you signed it. Gee, thanks for the faith, Kenma!”

“I want it to my chin,” Kenma announces. “With some layers.”

Hinata sets the paper aside. “I’m not a hairdresser, but I’ll do my best!”

Kenma sits very still the whole time. He tolerates Hinata tying his hair into a ponytail for the initial chop. He doesn’t say a thing when Hinata uses some questionable methods for the layering.

But then Hinata asks him again nearing the end of the haircut why he wanted to cut his hair, so suddenly that Kenma can’t help but answer honestly.

“Kuroo likes it when they have long hair,” he mutters in defeat. “I think I was growing it out ‘cause of him.”

“Oh, Kenma.”

Kenma doesn’t know if he can take any more pity tonight. The more he sobers up, the worse he feels. “Are you almost done?”

“Hm? Yeah, just a little more.”

It’s when Hinata’s sweeping up the hair off the floor that Kenma really feels bad. Hinata’s been damage control for him all night. Kenma’s been more self-destructive than usual, a very good example on why he shouldn’t drink and then go out. He’s sitting on the counter and getting the makeup off his face with a wipe, speaking when the material is over his eyes.

“M’sorry you have to deal with me when I’m like this.”

Hinata doesn’t even hesitate. “I don’t mind, Kenma. It’s what friends are for. And I convinced you to go tonight, so I’m sorry too.”

“I’m not going to hurt you if I don’t like the haircut in the morning,” Kenma admits, peeking around the wipe.

Hinata’s throwing the hair out, now. “I know, Kenma.”

“I really wish Kuro loved me back.”

“I know, Kenma.”

Hinata helps him change into his pajamas once all the makeup is cleaned off. He has to hold Kenma steady the whole time, which is embarrassing. He gets Kenma to down a couple more glasses of water. Once Hinata is pleased with his water intake, Kenma climbs into bed and burrows under the covers. It’s nice to be home. Then, Hinata’s phone vibrates. He looks at it and types out a quick reply before shutting it back off.

“Who was it?” Kenma asks, any filter he had on his speech long gone. He kind of hopes it’s Kuroo. He probably shouldn’t be asking Hinata this anyway.

“Tobio,” Hinata indulges him. “Wants to know when I’ll be home.”

“You should go now,” Kenma tells him. He wiggles underneath the blanket. “I’ll be fine. Sleep time.”

“You sure?” Hinata asks. “I can stay if you need me to.”

Kenma shakes his head. “Go.”

Kenma’s logic is that Hinata is dating the guy he loves, so he should go and see him. Kenma doesn’t have that privilege, so it makes sense for him to be alone right now. He looks up at Hinata and frowns. Shit, did he say random thoughts out loud again? He really needs to get that under control.

“Kenma…” Hinata’s eyes look like they’re filling with tears. Shit, shit, Kenma doesn’t think he can handle making such a sunny person cry. “I love you, y’know? You’re one of my best friends.”

Oh, that isn’t what he expected. “You too, Shouyou… Love you.”

That seems to satisfy Hinata, who pats Kenma on the head. Kenma is so kind that he doesn’t bite his hand off for it. Hinata tells him to text or call if he needs anything, anything at all, and then at last, he leaves.

Finally alone in the darkness of his bedroom, Kenma lets himself sleep.

Kenma wakes up with a headache.

He groans and rolls over in his bed, yanking a pillow over his head. Of fucking course he has to remember almost all of last night. At least he’s not puking his guts out, so he thanks Hinata silently for all but forcing the water into his system. He sits up in his bed, feeling his new haircut. It was supposed to be a cathartic event, to try and move on from his feelings (even though he doesn’t really want to). It doesn’t feel like that at all, though, and Kenma’s secretly glad.

This haircut feels like him.

That gets him to smile a little as he gets up and pulls on a hoodie. The hood is over his head, but he doesn’t bother fixing it because it hits him how hungry he is. He trudges down the hall and stops in the kitchen doorway. Surprise of the century, Kuroo’s in the kitchen eating toast and sprinkling sugar (or salt?) into his coffee.

Kuroo looks up when Kenma walks in. He’s wearing a hoodie too, but the hood is down and Kenma can still see where the hickeys trail down his neck. He hates it so much. Kenma averts his eyes and focuses intently on finding a bowl for some cereal. Part of him hopes that Kuroo will simply fail to acknowledge him—at least then he’d have more of a reason to be bitchy.

“Morning,” Kuroo says quietly. Well, fuck.

“Hey.” Kenma should be civil. He really should be civil. But then he remembers the girl and the eye contact and he can’t help it. “I thought you'd still be with that girl.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kenma sees Kuroo stiffen. “Uh, no.”

Kenma hums as he pours his cereal. “I’m surprised you’re home.”

The kitchen goes quiet apart from the sounds of Kenma moving about. Kenma almost feels bad, but he doesn’t. He grabs a spoon and debates going back to his room, but then Kuroo mutters his name so he pauses.

He keeps his back to Kuroo for now. “Hm?”

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo says quickly. It’s as if he’s scared Kenma’s going to leave him there mid-sentence. “I shouldn’t have tried to get between you and that guy. I was just worried, and that’s a shitty excuse but I was. He seemed nice, so you were probably going to leave with him, right? Or did you? I went to find Bo before you left, which by the way, Hinata was wrong, he was fine—”

“I wasn’t going to leave with him,” Kenma says abruptly. He doesn’t know why, but he needs to clear the air. Probably because he doesn’t want Kuroo to think badly of him, if that’s even possible. “Sam was nice, but I was just taking him up on an offer to have fun. Still don’t know why you felt the need to interrupt, but whatever.”

“Oh,” Kuroo’s voice wavers a little. “Uh. I don’t know either. I really am sorry, Kenma.”

And honestly, besides that, Kuroo hasn’t done much wrong, has he? Him being with that girl is his choice and like Kenma said the night before, they aren’t boyfriends. Kuroo can be with whoever he wants, right? Like, yeah, the eye contact during that moment was odd, but not… malicious?

It hits Kenma that Kuroo probably was genuinely worried about him. He was so caught up in his self-pity that he didn’t consider that Kuroo was likely acting on instinct—he usually stops people when they hit on Kenma if he thinks Kenma looks uncomfortable. It’s what he was asked to do by Kenma himself, years ago.

“I know you were just looking out for me,” Kenma tells him. He hears Kuroo’s footsteps approach him and he turns to look up at him. “Kuro?”

“Yeah, Ken?”

“I don’t like arguing with you.”

Kuroo smiles sadly. “Me neither.”

Kenma knows deep down that even if Kuroo never reciprocates what he feels, he’ll be okay staying by Kuroo’s side anyway. He refuses to live without Kuroo. If that means he has to love him silently, he will.

He will.

“Are we okay?” Kuroo asks timidly. It reminds Kenma of when they were younger, when Kuroo was the more shy one between them.

Kenma nods. Of course they’re okay. Kenma notices Kuroo looking at him with his eyebrows pinched and frowns. “What?”

“Did you…” Kuroo reaches for Kenma’s hood. He’s moving slow enough that Kenma can move away, but he doesn’t so he pulls the hood back. His hand stays there, at the ends of Kenma’s hair, many inches shorter than when he last saw it. “You cut it.”

“Yeah, last night.” Kenma fiddles with the blunt ends, averting his eyes. “I got Shouyou to do it for me.”

Kuroo doesn’t say anything. Kenma worries his bottom lip. He feels Kuroo running his fingers through the strands and meets his eyes. Kuroo looks… fond?

“You can tell me if it looks bad.”

“No, Ken.” His eyes drop to Kenma’s lips for a second so Kenma stops gnawing at the skin. Kuroo smiles at him softly. “It’s nice. You had it like this for years before you grew it out, y’know. I liked it then and I like it now. Looks very you.”

 Kenma wasn’t expecting such a genuine answer. Kuroo likely doesn’t mean anything with his words, just speaking his mind. But Kenma struggles to take it at face value—he feels the words strip him bare. His heart aches. “Thanks, Kuro.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo’s fingers falter in their path through Kenma’s hair. They stop at Kenma’s ear, tucking some strands behind it. “Yeah, no problem.”

The way Kuroo looks at him then makes Kenma think Kuroo might kiss him.

Kenma’s phone vibrates on the counter, sending the two of them jumping apart. Kenma curses, moving to pick it up. How stupid does he have to be to think Kuroo would kiss him? Fuck.

He curses again when he realizes it’s Hinata calling. “Hello?”

“Amazing, you’re alive!” Hinata’s voice is way too bright for — Kenma checks his phone –– ten in the morning. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Kenma glances over at Kuroo. He now has his back to Kenma, leaning forwards onto the counter. It looks like his head is in his hands. Confused, Kenma looks away, finally taking a bite of his now soggy cereal.

“Lovely,” Hinata chirps. The cheerfulness in his voice makes Kenma feel like he should be bracing for something. “So, have you talked to him yet?”

There it is. “Uh, yeah. Just now.”

“Ohhh, okay. Everything good?”

“Yeah, should be.” Kenma winces when Hinata cheers loudly into the phone. “Keep it down, Shouyou. I have a killer headache.”

“Sorry,” Hinata says, not sounding very sorry at all. “And the haircut?”

“What about it?” This cereal is actually not bad soggy. Weird.

“Should I be preparing any self-defense methods?”

Kenma laughs a little. “No, no. You did a good job. Kuro said it was nice too, so.”

Hinata cackles. “Yeah, and that’s the most important thing.”

“Shut up,” Kenma grumbles into the phone. He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns. Kuroo holds out a tylenol in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “Hm?”

“Here,” Kuroo says and then waits in place. Kenma puts his phone down, Hinata still yapping incoherently in the small speaker. Kuroo drops the pill in one hand and hands Kenma the cup. Their fingers touch and Kenma tells himself to be normal, because they’re childhood best friends and touching fingers should not send him spiraling. Kuroo, unaware of Kenma’s internal struggle, grins. “Take this. I’m gonna shower, tell Shrimpy I say hi.”

“Okay?” Kenma watches him go, still mildly thrown off. He hears Hinata calling his name. He swallows the pill with water and puts the phone back to his ear. “Sorry, I’m back. Kuro gave me a tylenol?”

“Did he just give you a tylenol, unprovoked?” Hinata demands. He’s been loving that word lately. When Kenma confirms, Hinata scoffs. “Okay, so he’s in love with you.”

“No,” Kenma retorts. “Stop with that. He says hi, by the way. And can you stop saying ‘unprovoked’?”

Hinata sighs. “Kenma.”

Kenma sighs back. “Shouyou.”

The call is silent. Kenma refuses to speak first. It’s quiet for almost a minute, truly, and Kenma’s about to give in.

Hinata does first. “I think flicks n dicks movie night is cancelled today, by the way. Bo’s super hungover so Akaashi’s taking care of him. Oika and Iwa are M.I.A so they’re either fighting, fucking, sleeping, or in the next country over. Saku is fine, actually. You and Kuroo, too.”

“What about you and Tobio?” Kenma asks. He’s counting the people in his head. Why do they have so many people? 

“Atsumu’s having a really bad day,” Hinata explains. His artificially-blonde fine arts major friend, if Kenma remembers correctly. They met once or twice before. Atsumu was loud and a bit obnoxious, just like many of Kenma’s friends. He was nice, though, Kenma thinks. “He’s probably going to need to be at ours for the night and we don’t want to leave him when he’s like this.”

Like what, Kenma doesn’t know. And he doesn’t need to know, so he just hums.

“So it’ll just be you, Kuroo, and Saku, but you could probably get Kuroo to agree to do something with just you two. Actually, I’ll text Saku to cancel—”

“Shouyou,” Kenma sighs.

“Yeah, yeah. Just, don’t lock yourself in your room all day, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kenma echoes. “Talk to you later.”

“Love you, bye!”

Kenma does in fact lock himself in his room all day. On top of that, while he isn’t proud of it, Kenma kind of avoids Kuroo until the next movie night with the flicks n dicks group chat. To be fair, this week’s movie night is on Friday because a fair share of them have weekend plans. And Kenma’s been busy all week with his school work. Definitely not busy hiding from Kuroo.

The only time he actually talks to Kuroo is on Thursday, while he’s trying to get to his four o’clock lecture. Kenma already has one foot out the door when Kuroo calls his name.

“Do you have a sec?” Kuroo asks, stationing himself by Kenma’s side. Kenma closes the door slowly and turns. Kuroo’s loose t-shirt displays that the hickies from the girl are all but gone, only the tiniest yellowish discolouration remaining that will be long gone tomorrow. Fuck, Kenma was staring. He snaps his gaze to Kuroo’s face, who looks at him intently. Kenma genuinely debates making a run for it.

Even so, he checks his phone while shifting on his feet. He’s going to be early to class anyway. “A minute or two, yeah.”

It’s as if Kuroo senses Kenma’s unease and hurries to reassure him. “It’s nothing bad! I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Kenma furrows his brows.

“You’ve been locked in your room all week, Ken.” Kuroo says lightly. He looks into Kenma’s eyes with such genuine concern that Kenma’s heart aches. His voice is quieter than usual, almost timid. “I’ve barely seen you.”

Kenma feels terrible now, but he tries to act normal. “I’m fine, Kuro. Just… busy.”

Kuroo looks entirely unconvinced. He laughs softly, not upset but kind of… sad. “You usually hide in your room when you’re trying to avoid me.”

“Oh, um.” Kenma forgets sometimes that Kuroo knows him better than anyone else. “I—”

“It’s alright if you are,” Kuroo says quickly, but Kenma sees the hurt hidden behind his features, hears the hurt in his voice. “I know sometimes it’s not that and actually just anxiety, but. I just want to make sure you’re okay, then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Curse Kuroo and his honourable intentions. He takes in the sight of his best friend before him and realizes in that moment that he’s been neglecting their friendship to hide from his feelings. Did he not tell himself earlier that very week that he would stay by Kuroo’s side no matter what? Kenma feels his lower lip wobble.

“Kenma?” Kuroo asks quietly, and Kenma throws himself into Kuroo’s arms. It’s instinct for Kuroo’s arms to wrap around him, to hold him close. Kenma doesn’t initiate hugs often. One of Kuroo’s hands is buried in his hair, combing gently through the strands. Kenma wants to stay here forever. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into Kuroo’s chest.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Kuroo assures him gently. “It’s fine. You can avoid me all you want as long as you’re okay.”

Kenma breathes in the scent of Kuroo’s shirt. He feels the warmth radiating from Kuroo and basks in it. Kenma knows his own heart is beating faster and presses his ear to Kuroo’s chest. He’s going to be late to his lecture.

“I have to go,” he speaks quietly because maybe if Kuroo doesn’t hear him, they can stay like that a little longer. But Kuroo hears him loud and clear, pulling back to look at Kenma’s face. It would be so easy to close the gap between them. Kenma turns away. “I’ll see you later, Kuro.”

It isn’t until he’s sitting in the lecture hall that Kenma realizes he never gave Kuroo a proper answer.

Kenma pushes open the apartment door, stumbling in and almost crashing face first into Akaashi. He’s too frazzled to even try and catch himself, but Akaashi holds him up

“Shit, sorry,” Kenma lets Akaashi steady him. Bokuto hovers at their ankles, shoes still on. He gives up on his laces when he sees Kenma, hopping up to say hi. “Hey. Is everyone already here?”

Kuroo pops his head out of the living room. “Uhh, Iwa bailed, so we’re just waiting on Shrimpy and his idiot, they probably lost track of time at the studio.”

“Thank fuck,” Kenma mutters. “Kuro, want to come with me to get the pizza? Shouyou said it was here right as I got in the elevator and they’re probably going to be a while.”

Kuroo would usually say yes to the offer and Kenma would be able to enjoy a few minutes of comfortable silence together. And Kenma, quite frankly, had a shit day and would appreciate some time with his best friend. So when Kuroo blinks and takes an uneasy breath in, Kenma frowns. Kuroo laughs nervously. “I’ve actually got to make a call, but Bo still has his shoes on so he can!”

“Yessir!” Bokuto salutes as Kuroo disappears without another word.

Akaashi seems to consider the interaction for a second. “That was… odd,” he notes lightly.

Kenma snorts and pulls open the door. “That’s one way to put it.”

Bokuto seems wary as Kenma all but stomps over to the elevator. Kenma pushes the button a little more aggressively than necessary and crosses his arms as he waits.

“You all good over there, Kenma?” Bokuto asks, sudden and swift.

“Just peachy.” The elevator dings. Kenma waits until they’re inside to continue, the extra time getting the cogs in his head turning a little faster. He wouldn’t usually consult Bokuto for any sort of serious advice, but he is one of Kuroo’s other closest friends. And since Kenma has zero idea on why Kuroo just did that, Bokuto’s his best bet. “You know what’s really funny?”

“Nope!” Bokuto chirps.

“After the party last week, Kuro was all mopey and sad because I was avoiding him. But as soon as I offer to spend a couple minutes with him, he backs out.” Kenma shakes his head. “Ironic.”

“Well, he’s been, like, shitting his pants. Not actually shitting himself but just like, nervous around you?” Bokuto seems to genuinely think about that. His eyes light up then. “Oh! And—”

The elevator dings. It opens and someone comes in. For once in his life, Bokuto has social awareness and shuts up. Fuck.

When they get out, Kenma rounds on Bokuto. He glares at him, a great fear tactic for getting Bokuto to spill; the guy once said that when mad, Kenma is scarier than Kuroo and Akaashi combined. And as Kenma expected, he holds his hands up in surrender. “What were you going to say? Why did Kuro do that?”

“Uh, well,” Bokuto scratches his head. He starts walking backwards towards the lobby. “I was actually going to say that he’s been weird since I found out he’s in love with you, but that doesn’t work with how normal he was during the party. Wait! Actually—”

Kenma stops walking, frozen in place.

What the fuck? What the fuck? He huffs out a breath, thousands of possibilities fly through his head. He tries to be rational as he runs through Kuroo’s behaviour over the past couple weeks. Then he runs through every interaction they’ve had, every text message, every call. What was platonic, what could’ve been something decidedly not? Bokuto could be messing with him, right? The gears in his head, now working overtime, forcefully grind to a halt. “He’s what?” 

Bokuto blinks, confused on Kenma’s sudden pause. “What? What’s wrong? Did— oh. Oh shit. Kenma, please forget I said anything! Please! Kuroo’s going to kill me, fuck—”

Okay, so Bokuto is definitely not messing with him. The guy’s panic is so raw that Kenma almost feels bad for him. Not that he has any emotion to spare right now, completely overwhelmed by the information he just received.

“Did he tell you that?” Kenma demands, but Bokuto’s crouching on the floor.

“Don’t ask me any more questions!” Bokuto wails. “I’m the worst secret keeper ever, Kuroo’s never going to forgive me!”

“Kuro will be fine, Bokuto. Just answer my question. Please,” Kenma adds to see if that will calm Bokuto down a little. It doesn’t, and Kenma stands next to the Bokuto-shaped human ball for another thirty seconds before sighing. He nudges Bokuto with his shoe. “We have to get the pizza.”

He can deal with this substantial information later. Right now, Kenma needs to act normal. Normal, which is kinda hard when his feelings might actually be reciprocated.

“Hey guys!”

Kenma and Bokuto turn to the voice sync. It’s Hinata. It’s always Hinata, actually, and Kenma can’t decide if the ginger’s timing is incredible or incredibly awful. Regardless, Hinata flounces towards them, Kageyama trailing a little further back with the pizza boxes in hand. Bokuto brightens at the sight of the pizza, but stays in his ball.

“Bo, get up! It’s movie time!” Hinata squats down and hauls the man up with surprising strength. Hinata’s paint-splattered clothes reflect Kenma’s current mental state. It makes Kenma laugh and cough at the same time. The sound has Hinata looking over. “You okay over there?”

Kenma clears his throat. “Yeah.”

Kageyama appears beside them and shoves the pizza boxes into Hinata’s hands. “Dumbass, you forgot the pop at the front.”

“I’ll get it,” Kenma volunteers before he even realizes. Luckily the other three don’t think much of it.

“Thanks,” Kageyama nods. “The bag should be beside the plant. Want us to wait?”

Kenma shakes his head. “Go up.” He catches a glimpse of Hinata’s confused look, Bokuto’s wilted look, and Kageyama’s blissfully unaware look before turning away.

Okay. He can be normal about this. He has to deal with this properly, because this isn’t a video game. He can’t just turn it off if he makes the wrong choice and everything goes to shit. Kenma fumbles with the plastic bag of pop twice before succeeding in picking it up. He tries his best not to think, putting all his focus in the dumb bag of liquids. Don’t. Think. About. Kuroo.

When Kenma gets back up to the apartment, nothing seems amiss. Things are exactly how he left them except that Hinata and Kageyama are there. Oh, and now Bokuto’s clinging onto Kuroo, who looks slightly taken aback and completely confused. He slides into his usual spot on the couch on the other side of Kuroo, who grins at him as he flings Bokuto straight into Akaashi’s lap.

Okay. Act normal.

Hinata tries to convince them to watch High School Musical: The Musical: The Series after they finish the movie trilogy and Sakusa replies that he would only allow that if he suddenly had the desire to be a theatre kid, which of course will never happen. Kenma snorts when Hinata tries to explain that no, it’s not theatre, it’s a work of art!

Act normal.

Akaashi, Oikawa, and Sakusa team up against Bokuto and Kuroo in order to get them to reenact Go My Own Way. Kenma laughs when Kuroo (Troy) trips over his feet chasing after Bokuto (Gabriella).

Act normal.

Kuroo rests his head on Kenma’s, intertwining their legs and throwing an arm around his shoulders. Kenma forces himself to relax and tries not to think about the fact that he’s basically sitting in Kuroo’s lap.

Act. normal.

At long last, the credits roll and Kenma takes the opportunity to slide out of Kuroo’s arms when Oikawa groans and says he needs help getting up. Hinata’s still singing the soundtrack and Akaashi’s adding a nice harmony to it. That is, until Hinata freaks out at the way their voices blend and straight-up screams. Sakusa hits him over the head with his empty mineral water (thank fuck it’s plastic) bottle.

At that point, Kuroo wishes everyone goodnight and threatens to serenade anyone who tries to help him clean up, leaving Kenma to usher them all to the door.

Sakusa’s the first to leave with a quiet thanks. Then goes Oikawa, jogging after him once he gives Kenma a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Akaashi pauses at the door after Hinata leaves arm in arm with Kageyama, both of whom will probably head back to their art studio for a couple hours before actually going to bed. Bokuto leans sleepily against Akaashi’s back, eyes open and closing periodically as if trying to convince someone that he’s still alert and conscious.

“You should tell him,” Akaashi starts, and Kenma sighs. He can hear Kuroo shoving dishes into the dishwasher, humming one of the songs from the movie. Akaashi purses his lips. It’s times like this where Kenma remembers how perceptive Akaashi is. He never even told the guy about his feelings, and yet somehow he knows. Akaashi’s gaze softens. “It’s hurting you.”

“It’s not hurting me,” Kenma protests with a glare. He deflates immediately. “How did you figure me out?”

“I know you,” Akaashi nudges Bokuto so that he’s standing upright. The guy whines and tries to go back to sleep standing up. “And we both know Kuroo. He’s not a douchebag. So even if he doesn’t… y’know, you guys will be fine.”

“Yeah,” Kenma mumbles. “I guess.”

“You can always stay with us,” Akaashi offers with a small smile. “If it gets too much, I mean. Goodnight, Kenma.”

“Night.” Kenma stands in the entryway long after the last two are gone, staring at the closed door. He takes a deep breath. Looks down at the two pairs of shoes on the tacky Wipe your paws 🐾 welcome mat Kuroo bought as a joke when they first moved in together.

This is starting to affect their friendship, the fact that Kenma’s still hiding his feelings after years. It wasn’t an issue at first, just a harmless crush. But they’ve grown up. Years have past, and recently it’s been all but debilitating. Fuck, he really has to say something, doesn’t he? 

Kuroo’s sitting on the couch when Kenma walks into the living room, trying to get comfortable after doing the cleaning for eight men. He smiles as Kenma approaches him, laughing softly when Kenma slumps onto the couch beside him. He lets out a grunt of distress when his face is squished against cold metal instead of Kuroo’s side. Kuroo laughs again and rearranges whatever Kenma landed on.

“Bo needs to stop forgetting shit here,” Kuroo sighs as he throws a zip-up hoodie to the side of the couch. Kenma thinks he remembers Bokuto wearing that at the beginning of the night. Kuroo scooches a little closer to him, pressing their sides together. “I mean, at this point we should just give him a little closet here.”

Kenma hums.

Kuroo pauses thoughtfully. “Wanna watch one more movie before bed?”

Kenma turns his head to look at Kuroo. The only light in the room is from the tv, lighting up his best friend in a mesmerizing way. He can’t look away yet. It’s as if he’s memorizing every detail of Kuroo’s face in case the following conversation doesn’t go well. The slope of his nose, the hair from his fringe that moves every time he blinks, the little nick on his chin from shaving, the slight smile tugging at his lips. After Kuroo looks at him funny, Kenma turns away. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“What did I do?” Kuroo asks immediately with a goofy grin on his face. It fades a little when Kenma doesn’t respond right away. “Ken?”

“Bokuto told me something. By accident.”

Kuroo tries to keep his tone light when he replies, but his eyebrow twitches and Kenma sees through the facade. He’s hiding something. He’s worried Kenma knows something. Kuroo’s nervous. He’s nervous and that shows that what Bokuto said is most likely true. “I mean, the guy can’t keep his mouth shut. What was it this time?”

“He told me that you’re in love with me,” Kenma blurts before he can chicken out, and Kuroo stiffens beside him.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Kenma picks at his nails and doesn’t look up in fear of seeing Kuroo’s expression. His face burns. “He felt really bad about telling me, which is why he was clinging to you all night. But, like, that’s ridiculous anyway, because you aren’t in love with me. He doesn’t have to feel bad for spilling misinformed news, but I think he thinks it’s true. So maybe you should clear that up with him before he gets the wrong idea.”

Kuroo’s responding laugh is forced, artificial. Kenma’s heart feels like it’s going to drop out of his ass when Kuroo clears his throat, breathing out shakily. “Yeah, uh— yeah. I’ll do that. I’ll let him know. So— is that everything you wanted to talk about? Should we choose a movie?”

Kenma imagines it. He really does—if he lets this go, they watch some movie they’ve already seen and then go to bed. Nothing changes. Nothing will ever change.

“Kuro?”

“Yeah, Ken?”

“Are you in love with me?”

The silence in the room is deafening. Almost half a minute goes by and neither of them move. Kenma can hear the dishwasher running. He can hear himself breathing, he can hear Kuroo breathing, and-

Kuroo’s breathing is uneven.

Kenma knows this breathing pattern. His head whips up, self-concern flying out the window as he examines Kuroo’s state. This breathing pattern belongs to Kuroo’s anxiety attacks. Kuroo’s rubbing his chest with the palm of his hand, eyebrows furrowed. He’s staring straight forward, which happens to be Kenma’s chest.

“Kuro?” Kenma whispers. “Hey, it’s okay.”

No response. Kuroo breathes out shakily, eyes a little too wide to be normal.

“Kuro—”

“Fuck,” he gasps, pressing down on his chest harder. He’s hyperventilating a little bit. Kenma wants to touch him but worries that it’ll set him off further.

“Breathe, breathe, you’re okay,” Kenma tries to assure him, but to no avail. He bites at his bottom lip nervously. “Can you tell me what you need?”

“I can’t,” He manages to choke out while blinking rapidly, tears filling his eyes. “I—”

Kenma lets out a sad noise when the tears spill out of Kuroo’s eyes, opening his arms. “C’mere.”

Kuroo falls forward into him, his face pressing into Kenma’s chest as he gasps out shallow sobs and breaths. Kenma’s arms automatically hold him there tightly as if he’s never going to let go. He whispers for Kuroo to breathe, but his instructions are likely to be left unheard.

While Kuroo’s uneven hyperventilation has Kenma on edge, his tears have Kenma devastated. Kuroo does not cry easily, but Kenma has seen him do it many times. Because of school, because of his parents, because of failed relationships. But in all the years that Kenma has known him, he’s never seen Kuroo cry because of him.

“I’m sorry,” Kenma's voice is strained. “I’m sorry.”

Kuroo just shakes his head. The movement makes Kenma conscious of the way his shirt is slightly damp from Kuroo’s tears. He can’t stand it, the way that Kuroo can’t even look at him. He doesn’t understand why this is happening. But Kenma refuses to force Kuroo to do anything in this state, so he just holds his best friend as if the action itself is the only thing keeping them together.

Akaashi might be wrong, for once. Maybe this is going to ruin everything.

Kenma can’t read Kuroo’s face when he finally sits up. He can only watch as Kuroo rubs at his eyes, cheeks blotchy and tearstained. It’s uncomfortable, because Kenma knows Kuroo. He knows him almost as well as he knows himself. And right now, Kenma can’t read Kuroo at all. He’s completely unprepared for Kuroo’s next actions. This is uncharted territory. This is dangerous.

Kuroo sniffs.

“Do you want some water?” Kenma asks softly. Kuroo usually needs water after a panic attack, an anxiety attack, or even a breakdown. It’s routine, a safe bet, so Kenma starts to get up without waiting for an answer.

Kuroo catches his hand before he can stand. “Don’t go.”

Kenma swiftly sits back down and waits for Kuroo to speak again. His hand falls into his lap.

Kuroo takes a deep breath, albeit shakily. “I need to— I should say this before I get cold feet or some shit.”

“No, you don’t have to say anything,” Kenma shakes his head and squeezes Kuroo’s hand. “You… you were fucking hyperventilating. I shouldn’t have— just forget I asked, please?”

“I can’t do that, Ken.” Kuroo offers him a tearful smile. “You know I can’t. It’s just…”

This is it. This is when Kuroo tells him that their friendship is over, that Kenma is so fucking weird for even asking that because they’ve been friends since they were kids. This is when Kuroo tells him that Kenma’s like his little brother or something adjacent to that and decides he doesn’t even love him like family. Fuck, what if Kuroo knows? What if Kuroo already knew that Kenma’s in love with him and was only panicking because he didn’t know how to let him down easy?

“It’s just,” Kuroo squeezes his eyes shut. “I am in love with you, so. Yeah.”

Static. The only sound in Kenma’s brain is static.

There’s no way he heard that right. His lips part to let out a shaky breath. Confirmation from Bokuto is one thing—it only gave Kenma half belief, half doubt. The whole idea remained a pipe dream. But confirmation from Kuroo? It’s everything. Kenma doesn’t realize Kuroo is staring at him for a while. He’s still trying to process.

“Ken, you need to say something,” Kuroo says lightly, “or I’m going to start panicking again.”

“Shit,” Kenma scrambles for an answer, searching Kuroo’s face for any ounce of a lie, a prank, some sort of joke. “You’re serious?”

“I don’t think I could joke about this no matter how hard I tried,” Kuroo forces a smile. It looks more like a grimace. Kuroo fidgets a little, and Kenma realizes he still hasn’t given an answer. “I hope this doesn’t make anything weird. You can just pretend this never happened and we can go back to normal! Totally fine. Um, unless you’re uncomfortable, then—”

“I’m not,” Kenma mutters. He breathes in, breathes out. “Kuro?”

“Hm?” Kuroo stills abruptly. He can probably tell that Kenma’s nervous now, too. He waits patiently. Most of Kuroo’s external panic seems to disappear when his focus locks on Kenma. It makes Kenma feel better and worse, because Kuroo’s not freaking out, but his attention being completely on Kenma is overwhelming.

“Me too,” Kenma manages to say. “Me too.”

Kuroo lets out a disbelieving huff of laughter, a smile growing on his face. “You…?”

“I’m in love with you, yeah.” Kenma mutters, eyes falling to his hands. Hands that Kuroo takes in his own. “Shut up. You said it first.”

“I did,” Kuroo breathes. “Fuck, I usually wake up before this part.”

“You’re so dumb,” Kenma looks up at him fondly. Kuroo’s looking back at him and his eyes are filling with tears once more. “Please don’t cry again.”

“No promises,” Kuroo says, tone light.

They just look at each other for a moment. Kenma can’t help but smile.

“What now?” Kenma asks, cringing at the mildly cliché phrase. Kuroo doesn't seem to mind.

“Can I kiss you?” he replies without hesitation. Kenma squeezes his hand and nods. He doesn’t even need to think about the answer.

Kuroo presses one swift peck to Kenma’s lips as if to gauge his reaction. It’s delicate, tentative. Innocent. It’s everything. Kuroo pulls away too soon, glancing at him in the way Kenma recognizes as Kuroo’s warily hopeful look. The same look he had on his face when he asked Kenma if they could move in together. Kenma is so in love with him.

When it’s clear to Kuroo that Kenma still wants it, he surges back in. Somehow, kissing Kuroo is exactly how Kenma always imagined it would be. Warm, gentle yet firm. Their lips slide together as if they were made to do just that, Kenma’s top lip captured by the weight of both of Kuroo’s. The feeling of Kuroo’s tongue teasing the seam of Kenma’s lips makes his head spin.

He grasps onto his last coherent thoughts when Kuroo presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“We should talk about it—” Kenma tries to say, but this proves to be quite difficult with Kuroo giving him continuous light kisses on all parts of his lips. “About us, I mean. We should.”

“We can after,” Kuroo resolves whiningly, and Kenma can’t help but keep his eyes locked on his lips. Kuroo’s hands, which at some point made their way to Kenma’s waist, hoist him onto Kuroo’s lap. He kindly ignores the helpless sound Kenma makes and Kenma kindly ignores the butterflies in his own stomach. Kuroo looks up at Kenma straddling him, hands tightening as he leans back against the couch. Kenma melts into the touch. “I’ve waited for years for this. Just— Kiss now, discuss later?”

“Years?” Kenma chokes out. Years?

“Years,” Kuroo confirms. His thumb mindlessly rubs back and forth on Kenma’s hip bone. Kenma’s world has just been spun on its axis and Kuroo doesn’t even realize. He just grins up at Kenma in the stupidly nerdy and cocky way he always does when he knows he’s won.

“Okay,” Kenma breathes. His hands fist the collar of Kuroo’s shirt, pulling him closer. “Yeah, okay.”

Kuroo hums when they meet in the middle. One of his hands detaches from Kenma’s waist, freeing itself so he can reach up and tuck a strand of hair behind Kenma’s ear. He cradles Kenma’s face, tilting it slightly so that they can kiss deeper. Kenma shudders at the first touch of their tongues.

Kenma’s trying to stay quiet, he really is. But Kuroo is sucking on his tongue, exploring his mouth, and it’s everything he’s ever wanted. Every time Kenma lets out a quiet mewl, every time he softly gasps, it bleeds into Kuroo’s mouth and gets devoured whole. When Kuroo bites on his bottom lip, Kenma can’t stop the whimper that escapes him.

“Fuck,” Kuroo groans, and his voice has a nice, dark roughness to it. “You know what I’ve wanted to do all week? Besides this?”

“What?” Shit, his voice sounds so breathy. Kenma squeezes his eyes shut when Kuroo starts kissing down his neck.

“Wanted to cover up that guy’s hickies with my own so that you forget all about them. So you’d forget about him,” Kuroo mutters grimly, nosing at the column of Kenma’s neck. Kenma feels a shiver race up his spine. “Will you let me?”

“You’re so— you’re so stupid.” Kenma gasps weakly when Kuroo nips lightly at the skin, once, twice before waiting for an answer. “Yeah, ‘course. Just—yeah.”

Kuroo doesn’t hesitate. He holds Kenma steady as his open mouth attaches to his skin. The perfect combination of teeth, tongue, and lips, all hot and insistent, has Kenma melting. Kuroo’s efficient—his mouth leaves one spot with a slick noise and moves on to another equally sensitive spot. Kuroo’s really fucking good at this. It feels so fucking good, Kenma’s brain goes a little fuzzy. He holds Kuroo’s shoulder tightly, trying not to go boneless (or pop a boner).

The warmth pooling in Kenma’s stomach only grows when Kuroo finally pulls away. His eyes are crazed and full of want as he looks over his work. Kuroo sucks in a breath when he runs his thumb over one of the darkening marks. He presses down and Kenma’s hips jerk forward on their own accord, tearing a whiny sound from his throat.

“Oh.” Surprise colours Kuroo’s voice and he raises an eyebrow. Embarrassed by his own responsiveness, Kenma looks away, but a hand guides his chin back. Kuroo is breathing heavier now, almost sounding wrecked. “You're so pretty, baby.”

“Kuro,” Kenma whines. His forehead drops to Kuroo’s chest, who lets out a slight chuckle so different from his regular cackling that Kenma has to take a moment. He sounds so attractive. He always does, unfortunately, so this is really getting to Kenma’s head. “Kuro.”

“Hm?”

“You too,” Kenma mutters. He half-hopes Kuroo can’t hear him. “Wanna cover yours, too.”

The groan that Kuroo lets out makes Kenma feel like he’s on fire. “Wait, fuck, let me—”

Kenma leans back patiently as Kuroo tugs his t-shirt over his head and throws it across the living room. With his chest exposed, Kenma doesn’t feel any shame in raking his eyes up and down the exposed skin. He was right, the hickies from the girl are gone now. But that doesn’t make him want to mark Kuroo up any less. The desire in his gaze is glaringly obvious, he’s well aware of it. He’s glad of it.

“Go for it, baby,” Kuroo murmurs as he leans in to press a brief kiss to his lips. Even though Kuroo calling him baby has Kenma whining and infinitely closer to the edge, he registers the contrast of the gesture to those previous. It makes Kenma feel so warm. It tells him that this is more than just mindless making out for Kuroo, too. “Do your worst.”

Kenma goes for Kuroo’s chest first, lips roving over the skin desperately. Kuroo hisses when Kenma tweaks one of his nipples, then inhales sharply when Kenma sucks on the skin below his collarbone. Kenma rolls the skin between his teeth lightly, feeling giddy when Kuroo’s hands jump to his hair to hold him in place as he moves to the next spot.

“I hated them,” Kenma mutters against Kuroo’s skin. “Her marks on you.”

“They didn’t—” Kuroo chokes on his words as Kenma moves up his neck. His hands tug on Kenma’s hair, who has to hold back a whimper. “Shit— They didn’t mean shit, Ken, I swear—”

“Wanted them to be mine instead,” Kenma admits before sucking on the skin below Kuroo’s ear. 

“ Ah—” Kuroo’s hips jerk into Kenma’s, revealing just how affected he is. There's a slight tremor in Kuroo’s voice now. “Me too, me too— fuck—”

Kenma mewls, unable to stop from rutting his hips forward just a little. Kuroo’s hands drift away from his hair, and then they’re everywhere. They’re at the hem of Kenma’s hoodie, pulling it off and discarding it with little care. Then they’re at the bare skin of Kenma’s waist, pulling him closer and helping him find a steady rhythm. With every roll of his hips, another pathetic noise escapes Kenma’s mouth. One particularly rough drag of his hips has Kenma keening, the feeling of Kuroo against him almost overwhelming.

“Fuck, I’m so hard,” Kuroo breathes. He stares hungrily at Kenma’s body, and Kenma feels hot under his gaze. On a whim, he presses his palm to Kuroo’s clothed dick. Kuroo hisses as the feeling, hips jumping into it. He doesn’t stop Kenma from working his hand over him through the fabric of his sweatpants. “Hhh, Kenma—”

Kenma feels Kuroo’s hands tighten around his waist, and then they’re kissing again, wet and filthy. Kenma’s hand loses his rhythm when Kuroo's hands drift down from his hips to his ass, and he gives up completely when Kuroo squeezes.

“ Kuro,” Kenma gasps into the kiss. “Need you.”

Kuroo groans, letting his forehead fall forward and rest against Kenma’s chest. “God, you’re so hot.”

“Shut up,” Kenma whines. He wills his face to not turn red. He can’t even pretend like he hates Kuroo’s words. The way his dick twitches gives him away and the smirk Kuroo gives him confirms that.

“My room or yours?” Kuroo says finally, pulling away to admire him.

“Neither,” Kenma finds himself saying. “S’too far. Let me suck you off here. Can I?”

Kuroo’s jaw genuinely drops, breathing out shakily. “Oh my god.”

Kenma traces his index finger along Kuroo’s collarbone. Kuroo's eyes flutter shut as his head slumps back against the couch cushions with another uneven exhale. It’s kind of cute, how Kuroo's getting so worked up just from the mere idea of having Kenma on his knees for him.

“You’re not real,” Kuroo mutters. It’s hard to tell if it’s hot in the apartment or if he just really wants to suck Kuroo’s dick. Kenma voices the thought and Kuroo groans. He squeezes Kenma’s waist and the feeling of his hands sends a shudder up his spine. He stifles another moan when they rub against each other. “You’re killing me, Kenma.”

“Kuro,” Kenma mumbles, hand back to press on the noticeable bulge in Kuroo’s pants. Kuroo’s really beautiful like this, Kenma thinks, all disheveled and affected because of him.

“There’s no way this is real— oh, shit —” Kuroo’s hips buck up at the feeling of Kenma’s thumb pressing down on the head of his dick through fabric.

“Kuro,” Kenma repeats with a noticeable pout. Kuroo’s head snaps back up at the rare, desperate lilt in his voice. Kenma licks his lips and revels in the way that Kuroo’s eyes can’t help but lock on the movement. “Wan’ suck your dick. Please?”

“Yeah, what— whatever you want,” Kuroo sucks in a breath. “Whatever you want.”

Kenma allows himself one more kiss before sliding out of Kuroo’s lap and onto the floor between his legs. Kuroo watches him closely, following his hand as Kenma uses its heel to relieve some of the pressure in his own pants. A stifled whimper escapes him, and Kuroo’s eyes somehow simultaneously grow darker from lust and soften from fondness.

“Wait, wait—” Kuroo turns to the side suddenly, leaving Kenma kneeling there, completely confused. But then Kuroo grabs a pillow from the couch and coaxes it underneath Kenma’s knees. “There.”

“Sap,” Kenma mutters, but a besotted smile finds its way onto his face.

“Am not,” Kuroo says weakly as Kenma nuzzles his cheek on his inner thigh.

Kenma tugs on the waistband of Kuroo’s sweatpants teasingly, who lifts his hips so that he can tug the fabric away. Kenma peers up at him through his eyelashes. “Are too.”

“Am n— oh, baby—”

What happens next is hazy. It’s a blur of Kuroo’s hands tugging on Kenma’s hair while his mouth is on his cock, Kuroo’s sultry groans and hitched gasps mixing with Kenma’s muffled moans. It might go by quickly or maybe slowly, but soon enough Kuroo’s pulling Kenma into his lap once more to return the favour with his hand. He whispers about how beautiful Kenma is, how he wants him so badly, and Kenma comes embarrassingly fast because of his words. Kuroo doesn’t seem to mind.

It’s not until later that they actually get to talk, all clean and curled up together under the covers of Kuroo’s bed. 

“I can’t believe Bo’s going to get away with spilling my secrets because this turned out well,” Kuroo mumbles, his cheek pressing into the top of Kenma’s head. “I should kill that idiot.”

Kenma hums in disagreement. “I sort of knew anyway. Before he told me.”

Kuroo makes a noise of confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I had a feeling, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up, y’know? I don’t get a do-over if I mess this up. S’not a video game.” Kenma’s post-orgasm haziness must make him more honest than usual, loosening his tongue. He continues, “I’ve been in love with you for a long time, and I wouldn’t have done anything about it if I wasn’t sure. The way we were was fine because you were close to me.”

“I’ve been in love with you since fifth grade,” Kuroo blurts. He clears his throat a moment after, as if the words were spoken without his permission. “Damn, that’s pretty embarrassing for me, huh? Considering how many people I’ve been with.”

Meanwhile, Kenma is once again, completely thrown off. “Fifth grade?”

“…Yeah?”

“That was way before you liked boys?”

“Way before I realized I like boys,” Kuroo corrects gently. The correction doesn’t make sense to Kenma, but he doesn’t mention it. Kuroo clears his throat. “It was way before I came out, anyway. It was sorta retrospective, y’know? The world was simpler in fifth grade. Didn’t hit me ‘til a couple years after that no, it wasn’t platonic that I wanted to hold my best friend’s hand and kiss him. I bet I have you beat on how long I’ve been pining.”

“Don’t call it pining. You sound like a loser,” Kenma shifts against Kuroo’s chest, a smile playing at his lips. Kuroo lets out a noise of mock hurt. “You don’t, by the way. Have me beat.”

“What?”

Kenma hums. “Loved you for as long as I can remember. Wouldn’t have let you stick around my whole childhood if I didn’t.”

“And how long ago was that?” Kuroo utters hoarsely. He seems to be holding his breath a little, based on how Kenma’s head isn’t rising and falling with the movement of Kuroo’s chest.

“At least second grade. When you forced us to have that fake wedding in front of a bunch of our classmates? It’s stupid, but when that happened I think I took it a little too seriously or something. Never really needed anyone besides you since then.” The last sentence is whispered, a secret that Kenma’s never let out. And it’s true. No matter who he’s been with, no matter who he slept with, no matter who he dated, he was never really happy. In the back of his mind, it was never right because it was never Kuroo.

“It’s not stupid,” Kuroo whispers softly.

Kenma snorts softly. “I mean, my exes always noticed. You know how I never told you why they broke up with me? Because it was always you. It has always been you.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Kuroo croaks.

“Are you crying?” Kenma sits up, bursting into incredulous laughter at the sight of tears in Kuroo’s eyes. “I didn’t even say anything nice?”

“I’m sensitive!” Kuroo defends himself weakly, but he’s laughing too. His laughter fades much sooner than Kenma’s, simply watching him until Kenma stops and gives him a questioning look. “What? I love you, just let me admire you!.”

Kenma frowns slightly, cheeks burning. “Shut up.”

Kuroo doesn’t stop there. “Can I please be your boyfriend now? I’ll take you on a date, like, tomorrow. Fuck, should I ask Shouyou for his permission? Or your family—”

“Kuro.” Kenma interrupts him and lies back down against his chest. Kuroo’s arms naturally find their way around him, pulling him closer. He settles into the embrace. “I love you too. And I wouldn’t be opposed to you being my boyfriend. I guess. Whatever.”

The room is quiet until Kenma hears Kuroo sniff subtly.

“Kuro, what the fuck— Are you crying again?”

Kenma wakes up in the morning to his phone ringing. With a grunt, he tries to find it on his bedside table. His hand, however, pats open air where his bedside table should be. And oh, he’s in Kuroo’s bed. Everything rushes back to him then, and he sits up a little too quickly. Kuroo’s arms, which are still wrapped around him, send Kenma flying back against Kuroo’s bare chest with a thump. Kuroo is instantly awake, groaning at the impact.

“ Whatimeisit,” Kuroo grumbles, arms tightening to keep Kenma close. His ringtone is blaring and disturbing the silence. “Ken, please turn that off.”

Kuroo’s voice has a nice morning roughness to it, still slightly slurred from sleep. Kenma can’t help but smile, even though Kuroo’s kind of crushing him and the sound of his phone is making Kenma want to throw it across the room. 

“I need my phone,” Kenma placates. “Someone’s calling.”

“They can fuck off,” Kuroo drags out the last syllable with a whine. The phone stops ringing. Immediately after Kuroo makes a half-hearted cheer of victory, it starts again. “Fuck.”

“Let me—” Kenma struggles free of Kuroo’s arms and immediately misses the warmth. He leans over the side of the bed to grab his phone from the floor. He glances at the contact name and picks the phone up immediately. “...Shouyou?”

“Come open the door!” Hinata sings before abruptly hanging up.

Kenma stares at the screen blankly. It’s just past nine in the morning. Hinata can’t be serious.

He feels Kuroo shift behind him, hooking his chin over Kenma’s shoulder. “He can wait a few minutes.” 

“Can he, though?” Kenma deadpans, but he lets Kuroo guide him into a kiss anyway. For a minute or two, his mind goes peacefully empty and he can only think about all the ways Kuroo is pressed against him. He doesn’t even care that they just woke up.

Aggressive knocks at the door break the peaceful silence.

“I should get that,” Kenma murmurs against Kuroo’s lips. Kuroo hums in hesitant understanding, but continues to kiss him anyway. “Kuro.”

“Hm, fine. You hate me, I get it. Fine!” Kuroo rolls over to the other side of the bed. He’s dramatic, irritatingly so, but Kenma looks at him and he loves him. He can tell that Kuroo’s smiling.

“Baby,” Kenma tries. He reaches to comb through some of Kuroo’s crazy morning hair.

Kuroo whips his head around, eyes wide. “Don’t say that to me, I can’t be mad if you call me baby!”

Kenma huffs out a laugh. “Sorry… baby.”

Kuroo screams into the nearest pillow.

Kenma can’t stop smiling as he pulls on the nearest shirt he sees (that’s obviously one of Kuroo’s) and walks to get the door. Hinata has stopped knocking, but Kenma peers through the peephole and finds out that it’s because Hinata is staring back at him right through it. With a sigh, he unlocks the door and opens it.

“Morning! I brought food from the café Bo and Akaashi and Saku work at!” Hinata side steps past him and flips his shoes off carelessly before scurrying to the kitchen. He dumps his tote bag onto the counter and turns to the fridge to get juice, presumably. The guy is all but forbidden from drinking coffee. His energy is already discombobulating, no need to add fuel to the fire. “Was last night okay when we all left? I was gonna call but Tobio and I got into a eyebrow wiggling contest, so I forgot. He was the one that told me to come over to check in this morning, actually, so I told him he’s a huge softie and I barely escaped the apartment because he started chasing me around with a spatula. But anyways, Kuroo was acting constipated last night — lowkey unprovoked — and I honestly can’t deal with seeing how he’s making you— wait, what the fuck?”

Kenma freezes with his hand halfway into a croissant bag. He looks up slowly. “What?”

“Jesus Christ, Kenma, did you get fucking mauled?”

“I— oh.” Kenma looks down sheepishly. Thank god he put on a shirt or Hinata’s jaw would be all the way on the floor instead of just hanging open. “Um.”

“Who did all that?

Kuroo, the son of a bitch, chooses that exact moment to exit his room in nothing but sweatpants. Kenma can’t decide if he wants to kill him or kiss him. “Hey, Shrimpy. You’re catching flies.”

“Wait— did you—” Hinata looks between them like he’s watching a tennis match. “You guys—”

Kenma turns to Hinata and smiles knowingly. “I think you could say last night was okay, yeah.”

“Just okay?” Kuroo frowns, but he’s definitely fighting off a grin. “Damn, baby, tell me how you really feel.”

Hinata squawks and fumbles with his freshly poured glass of juice. “I think I need you guys to, um, explain!”

“Let me eat this croissant first.”

“Kenma, share some with me!”

“Shouyou brought enough to feed a whole family. Get your own.”

“Toss me one, then, will you? I think Shrimpy’s going into shock— Ow, that hit me in the eye, Ken, I didn’t think you would actually throw it—”