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From the picture on the website, Kenma could’ve sworn he could handle putting together the six foot structure on his own. He built his computer from scratch, for god’s sake. However…Here he sits in the eye of some metaphorical hurricane – cat tree parts strewn around with him at the epicenter – and nothing to show for it. He digs into the prickles of frustration stinging the corners of his eyes with the heels of his palms and takes a few grounding breaths.
He was already supposed to have this thing built, before he brought the kitten home from the shelter. He had three whole weekends set aside specifically for this task, knowing himself. Yet, also knowing himself, he never prioritized it and now it is week two, still without an assembled cat tree, but with plenty of cat.
Speaking of the devil, a cold nose bumps into the back of Kenma’s hand. He blinks away the stars from his vision and watches the expectant facial expression of his newly adopted black kitten swim into view. Pale hazel eyes glow almost iridescent when the sunlight streaming in through the window hits them. Kenma wiggles the tip of his index finger in front of her pink nose, earning him an adorably high pitched squeak of protest followed by another bump against his hand.
“Sorry, Kuro-chan. You’re probably hungry, right?” He heaves himself up with a groan and stretches out the tightness at the base of his neck. Definitely sitting hunched over instructions and unhelpful how-to videos for too long.
The little black kitten was the last of her litter to be adopted, and those soulful eyes of hers captured Kenma’s heart right away. She’d burrowed into the crook of his neck and latched her claws into the plush of his sweatshirt the moment she was placed into his arms. And the rest is history. Now Kenma has a tiny shadow that accompanies him wherever he goes.
Once he gets her dinner portioned out and hears the tell tale crunch crunch crunch of kibble being nibbled upon, Kenma takes out his phone and opens the TaskCat app. His friend, Keiji, recommended it when he and his fiancé needed some extra help remodeling their kitchen.
“It’s like Craigslist, but vetted,” as Keiji had described it.
“And navigates like a dating app!” Bokuto, his fiancé, had so… exuberantly added.
The most that Kenma can tell so far is the truth of Bokuto’s statement. Profiles for each Tasker comes with a professional headshot, a list of abilities, a 5 star rating system, and a portfolio of reviews from past clients. Kenma has a few bookmarked based on ability and star rating, and he clicks over to skim through their portfolios again. He chews on his cuticles absently as he reads through the reviews, scanning for any glaring red flags. Which is hard since he’s not quite sure what that’s supposed to look like. He figures he’ll just know when he knows, or something like that.
He doesn’t realize how long he’s been crouched there reading what feels like the same three to five different takes on client critiques until a sharp pang in his foot knocks him off balance. He falls back on his ass with a dull thud and a mumbled fuck. The culprit: a smug looking black kitten. Kenma glares playfully back, instigating the little furball to dart off and prance around. He rubs the sting out of the small cut on the top of his foot and gives into a full play time session with the energetic kitten.
It’s not until multiple hours later–and a late night reminder text from Keiji nagging him about whether he got the cat tree up yet–that Kenma opens the TaskCat app. Once. Again. In fact, he will later blame Keiji’s nosy impertinence for Kenma’s act of rebellious pettiness: picking the one guy who practically shares a name with Kuro-chan. (Definitely doesn’t have anything to do with how attractive the man’s profile picture is or that he mentions being a ‘cat dad’ in his bio.) And just for good measure, he takes a screenshot to send Keiji proving that he doesn’t need to be babied.
Keiji [00:13] …
Keiji [00:14] Kotaro said that it is ‘like’ a dating app, not to treat it like one.
Kenma’s jaw twitches, and he sends an array of animated chibi animal stickers, all flipping the bird, in response. Keiji leaves him on read.
“Coward,” Kenma mumbles under his breath when Keiji continues not responding. He plugs his phone in to charge for the night and switches over his Nintendo switch for some Stardew Valley to help wind his mind down. The warm, furry black void tucked into his side begins to vibrate in her sleep, easing him into sleep more quickly than usual.
∆∆∆
Kenma didn’t grow up with any pets. His mom was against the messiness and discounted younger Kenma’s bids for taking on the responsibilities of pet ownership. Granted, he only asked once at the tender age of eight years old, but whatever Kenma’s mother said, went. But even though cats weren’t allowed in the house, little Kenma found himself sharing his walks to and from school accompanied by the neighborhood strays and outdoor cats. So he got his daily dose despite the odds.
Now, living on his own for the first time — without a mother breathing down his neck or picky roommates — the freedom of choice has lead him to this moment:
A high pitched, constant stream of mewing in his ear at 4am and tiny claws getting tangled in his hair.
With eyes still weighed firmly shut, Kenma pats around his head blindly until his fingers find the source of the crying. He plucks the kitten from his hair and tucks her under his chin, sighing out as comforting a sound as he can manage before he falls back asleep. It only staves off the kitten’s neediness for so long, however. So, much too soon and with heavy eyelids pried half open, Kenma trudges around his dark apartment to the kitchen to feed the hungry beast.
All the search engine scouring in the world can’t explain how Kenma is beginning to attune himself to the different mews and squeaks of little Kuro-chan. Even just two weeks ago he’d be panicking when she wouldn’t begin eating her food as soon as he set it down in front of her; and don’t get him started on the spiraling worry when she wouldn’t stop screaming at him no matter what he tried. His search history paints the picture of an obsessive first time parent in all regards.
Suddenly being forced to change his entire sleep schedule is the one aspect of his life that he forgot to take seriously. Remote working night owl meets fussy kitten equals two fussy kittens, in the end.
It is only the buzzer of the front door that catapults Kenma back into consciousness. He whips his head around, golden eyes wide. What time is it? He fell asleep? What day is it? Someone’s at the door? Where’s Kuro-chan? Again, what time is it?
Another round of buzzing snaps Kenma into a cold sweaty focus. His phone reads 10:05am and a notification from his TaskCat app.
Shit. TaskCat guy.
Thankfully Kenma’s sweatshirt and sweatpants combo is decent enough even though he had literally fallen asleep at his kitchen counter. He does a quick scan of the floor by the door for Kuro-chan just as the sound of knuckles rapping on his door signal TaskCat guy’s arrival.
Kenma hastily runs a hand through his hair as he cracks open the door.
“Good morning.”
Kenma has to straighten his posture and tilt his chin up to meet the other man’s eyes. (He also attempts to swallow down the embarrassed lump slowly expanding in the back of his throat; the man’s profile picture did not do him justice.)
He fills Kenma’s doorframe with his height, and the plain white t-shirt that he wears should not look as classy on him as it should. Kenma assumes the pants he’s wearing only extenuate his long, athletic legs—but Kenma’s too distracted by warm hazel eyes and a bright smile to take much note.
“Um…” The brightness dims a few degrees. “This is the…Kozume residence, correct?”
Kenma’s eyelids flutter and his brain clicks back online. “Y-yeah. Sorry, yes, come in.” He steps aside to allow the man inside.
“Kuroo Tetsuro,” Kuroo greets with a polite bow and the return of the brightness in his expression. Kenma fights the urge to run under such an exposing gaze. As if the light this Kuroo person exudes sees right through Kenma. What would he find there? Kenma pivots, preventing either of them from finding out.
“Kozume Kenma. But Kenma is just fine.”
Kuroo chuckles. “Well, Tetsuro is just fine, too.”
Kenma peaks back at Tetsuro, taking note of the well worn tool belt slung around his hips, the paint splatters on torn pale blue jeans. He certainly looks like a proper handyman. His fingers are long and the tendons flex when he brings his hands together in order to crack his knuckles. His hair is messy, like he fell asleep with it still wet and it dried in all sorts of impossible directions. Kenma turns away again, feeling stupid for ogling the stranger who he is literally paying to put together a cat tree.
He just barely bats away his usual negative internal monologue and instead forces himself into his usual indifferent and neutral mask.
“I have all the parts set out in the other room, this way,” he says, shuffling away from the genkan once Tetsuro has removed his shoes. He pretends like the small smirk Tetsuro flashed him was ugly and annoying.
Tetsuro follows a couple paces behind Kenma, his mere presence keeping Kenma’s hackles raised the entire time. Well, that is until a fluffy lump of coal bursts out from the second bedroom doorway and launches itself through the air and attaches itself to Kenma’s pant leg.
Kenma jumps with a soft hmph?! in surprise—then huffs a chuckle to himself.
“Kuro-chan,” he murmurs in fond admonishment. She mews with her full canines out. Kenma crouches down to help unhook her claws. She immediately paws at his collar bone while he turns her around in his arms to cuddle her. “Behave,” he tsks without any bite. Then he freezes, his eyes slowly sliding over to the man he just met. Amusement sharpens the other man’s expression.
How fucking embarrassing. Kenma clears his throat and ducks quickly into the second bedroom. His gaming set up splashes an ever changing rotation of colors against the plain walls. “This is just, uh, my office space. But I don’t need it to work today. So, yeah,” Kenma gestures toward the abandoned pieces of the cat tree in the opposite corner, “that’s the general area I’d like to have it. If possible. Let me know if it doesn’t fit right, or if you think a different placement makes more sense. Honestly, it doesn’t really matter where—”
“Hey,” Tetsuro interrupts gently, “I’ll just get started and then update you as I go along. I think it looks like a great place to put it, too! Both you and this little menace can keep productivity high, right?” He laughs at his own comment, which helps loosen the knot that had tightened in Kenma’s stomach. A knot that erupts into flustered butterflies at the sight of Tetsuro’s soft smile.
Kenma’s brilliant response: a hum of agreement.
As soon as Tetsuro starts in on the cat tree project, Kenma disperses. He quickly changes into his “nicer” indoor clothes and then sets himself up on the couch in the living room.
Pretending to be chill and definitely not hyper aware that at any moment the hot man in the other room could appear. Super nonchalant.
He can’t help glancing over his shoulder to the hallway, though. Kuro-chan isn’t very tolerant of his half hearted attention and makes it known with extra bouts of soft pitched screams and extra bites of love. Even Kenma’s reprimands lack mindfulness. It’s only when Kuro-chan trots off with a sneeze and a huff that Kenma sighs a quiet, “Sorry, Kuro-chan.” He watches forlornly as the small fluff ball finds the paper bag from the grocery store that she has come to claim as her favorite choice of small, confined space of the week.
Kenma’s spiraling thoughts about this strange man in his apartment shouldn’t even be as distracting as they are. The initial romanticized thoughts of meet cutes melting into disturbing true crime scenarios; swooning for the soft smiles but feeling a bit sick and uncertain about the leering smirk. Is it just his anxiety? Or is he actually attracted to something about Kuroo Tetsuro? Should Kenma just go for it and ask the man out at the end? Would that be weird? Would Kenma feel weirded out if Tetsuro asked him out? Is that a red flag? Does it even matter? They are just strangers in a strictly transactional interaction, after all…
At a certain point, Kenma successfully distracts himself from his embarrassing, oscillating thoughts by diving deep into his last Stardew Valley save. The structured tasks keep his mind narrowed in and concentrated. And just as he’s about to cinch the romantic route dialogue with Alex—
“Whatcha playing?”
Kenma’s thumbs fumble on the controller and skips the next line of dialogue. Tetsuro had been leaning on the back of the couch, hands braced out in front of him and directly next to Kenma’s head. Fuck . This close up, Kenma can feel a bit of the other man’s heat radiating off of his exposed arms, as well as breathe in whatever cologne he’s wearing. It’s the slight flex of his biceps, just the smallest movement of muscle underneath warm, tanned skin that flusters Kenma into a full on blush. God, dumb, so so dumb.
Tetsuro runs one hand through his messy black hair when Kenma startles. “Oops, sorry to scare ya.”
“It’s Stardew Valley,” Kenma says.
“Stardew Valley! Right, one of my friends’ boyfriend ’s really into that game. Thought I recognized it. Do you…like to play it a lot?”
Kenma nods, eyes flickering down to the controller in his hands and dragging the small talk out of the depths of his brain. “Yeah. It’s chill but with enough stimulation not to get boring.”
“Nice, nice…” God, Kenma hated small talk, he’s just so bad at it! “Well, I’m done with the cat tree if you wanna come and take a look?”
Kenma perks up at that. He nods and follows Tetsuro to the office.
Kenma had spent days comparing and writing pros and cons lists when looking for the best cat tree. He wanted it to be versatile, but aesthetic. Something a kitten could enjoy but also grow into over time.
“Voila!” Tetsuro gestures with a flourish of his long arms and a cheeky grin. It’s corny, and he completely committed to the bit. Kenma doesn’t mind though. Actually, he’s quite charmed; and maybe already grieving a relationship that he’ll never have with this man. Kenma’s mind moves too quickly for its own good, some might say. (Keiji, for one.)
The tree is taller than Kenma; the top platform runs parallel to Tetsuro’s forehead. Too high, in Kenma’s opinion, for a kitten. But a perch he can imagine a young, agile cat would love to scale for a mid afternoon nap. The second platform to the top is around chin height to Kenma and includes two side hammocks. The bottom structure is a donut tunnel with a few holes cut out the perfect size for a small head to pop out of.
“Can’t say I’d pick that particular shade of green for myself, but I think I have an idea of what you were going for.”
The bright spring green of the plush covering material and gold accents is definitely…a choice.
“I like Mario Bros. Games,” Kenma puts it succinctly.
Tetsuro nods appreciatively. “Ah, so I was right! It’s like the green tubes.” He mimics the sound that, based purely on context, triggers when characters travel through the green pipes in Super Mario Bros. Kenma huffs a quiet laugh at the sincere attempt.
“Thank you, it looks good,” Kenma says with a polite bow.
“Yeah, of course. It’s a solid choice.” He pats the rope tower for emphasis. It doesn’t sway an inch, even near the top. “I can take down the boxing materials to the trash. I’ll be headed out anyway.”
“Okay, thank you, again.”
Kenma leaves the room, pivoting to go on the hunt for a suspiciously absent kitten. He scans the living room, searching for familiar fluffy fur. Not curled up on Kenma’s sweatshirt on his bed…Not in her usual paper bag hide away…Not in any of the patches of sunlight in the living room…But then—
“Kuro,” Kenma snaps warningly. The black kitten freezes, little fangs just barely chomped into the much larger pair of sneakers lined up in the genkan.
“Yes?”
Now Kenma is the one to freeze. He glances up to where Tetsuro has his head popped out from the hallway. The two blink at each other, realization of the miscommunication sinking in slowly. Tetsuro’s expression cracks into a huge grin before he tilts his head back and cackles. Cackles. It’s a horrible, ugly laugh but it springs an exhilarating sort of joy in Kenma’s rib cage to hear it. Like this is the first genuine, façade-less moment they’re sharing. Like they could actually be…friends? Kenma smiles.
“ Hah, ” Tetsuro breathes out, his eyes shining with mirth, “I totally forgot about that.” He pads over to the genkan, and crouches down beside the kitten. “Like I said earlier. Productive little menace, aren’t ya?” He smirks and the kit mews defiantly back at him, puffing out her tail for maximum effect. Kenma giggles at the sight.
“That’s what I get for not hearing you right, I guess,” Tetsuro says with a dramatic sigh. He glances up through his eyelashes at Kenma from where he’s bent over pulling his shoes on. “A cute nickname for me, too. I’ll have to consider it.”
“Yeah,” Kenma agrees aloud before his mind catches up to what he just insinuated. He averts his gaze, face heating up. “I-if you’re into that kind of thing. Nicknames, I mean.”
The following silence stabs through Kenma’s chest and his negative inner dialogue is about to rip him a new one.
“You know, if, um,” Tetsuro stammers, drawing Kenma’s surprised attention directly back to him, “if you need any—I mean, if you have any more questions about, like, cats—Like cat parenting tips? I could, um…” Tetsuro straightens up and fumbles around for his phone. Kenma studies the awkward hastiness in his movements, takes note of the slight pink on the apples of his cheeks.
Is…Is Tetsuro nervous?
“I grew up with cats, and I actually own a cat now, too!” Tetsuro shows off his phone screen. A long haired calico with the most scrunched up face and a snuggle tooth hanging out glares back at Kenma. “She’s pretty grumpy and petty about how she delegates her snuggles, and she’s not the cutest— ”
“The cutest,” Kenma murmurs, eyes wide and shining, “I love calicos.” He smiles up at Tetsuro approvingly. Tetsuro’s own wide eyed and open expression makes him look years younger and for a moment, Kenma can picture him as a little kid begging his parents to get a cat.
“Right?” Tetsuro breathes. They sit in their little bubble of wonder and admiration together for another moment, then Kenma takes Tetsuro’s phone and adds himself to his contacts.
“That would be nice,” Kenma says quietly but with the most confidence he’s felt all day.
Tetsuro smiles, the crooked, pleased one like the cat that caught the canary. And in a way, maybe he did.
The cute picture of Tetsuro excitedly showing off how honored he is to receive a willing snuggle from his cat—whom Kenma learns is named Babanaga—later that same night: Kenma feels like it’s the other way around. (Keiji will never let him live this down.)