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Every muscle in Kuroo’s body aches. He trudges up the stairs to his apartment, feet thudding heavily on each step. Practice went long tonight, and Coach pushed them harder than usual. Drill after drill after drill, lap after lap . . . it’s the usual punishment for losing a game, but for some reason it felt more vicious this time.
Kuroo can’t help but carry the responsibility of the loss on his shoulders. He flubbed that one quick, after all. He knows exactly how it happened, too. He’s been replaying it in his mind ever since the game ended and Coach chewed them all out. He was sloppy, and his team lost.
“What’s wrong?” Kenma asks immediately the second Kuroo walks through the door.
Kuroo chuckles softly at his boyfriend’s perception. “Lost,” he says simply, kicking off his shoes and throwing his gym bag into the corner. He’ll wash his uniform later.
Kenma gets off the couch, stepping around it to face him. He’s already dressed for bed in one of Kuroo’s shirts. It hangs loosely on his slimmer frame, falling to mid-thigh. Kuroo can’t help but smile at the sight, but it disappears quickly.
“Don’t do that,” Kenma says sharply, his brows furrowing above his nose.
“Don’t do what?” Kuroo asks lightly, knowing perfectly well what, as he passes Kenma to head for the bathroom.
Kenma follows doggedly. “You’re blaming yourself for it.”
“I missed an important quick, Kenma,” Kuroo says wearily. “Even Coach said that was the turning point.”
“Fuck your coach,” Kenma says flatly.
“Ew, I’d rather not,” Kuroo says, wrinkling his nose at that mental picture. He pushes open the door to the bathroom, going to the tub and turning on the hot water.
“You know what I meant.” Kenma stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.
Kuroo turns away from him, pulling his shirt up over his head. He grimaces, as each movement causes his sore muscles to scream at him.
“Kuro.”
Kuroo tosses his shirt to the side, slipping out of his pants and boxers then to step into the tub. He already took a quick shower back at the gym, but this is what he really needs. The hot water burns at first, and he hisses softly, as he lowers himself to sit.
Kenma steps further into the room. “Kuro.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Kenma,” Kuroo sighs, knowing that he’s just going to keep replaying it in his head if he does. He just wants to forget for a little while and try to relax. He leans his head back against the tub, closing his eyes and allowing the heat of the water to seep into his skin, soothing him.
After a few minutes he feels a tug on his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he sees Kenma standing over him, sans clothes. Realizing what he wants, Kuroo sits up and scoots forward. He waits for Kenma to get into the bathtub behind him, his legs curled on either side of him, before he leans back against Kenma’s chest with another sigh.
“I’m sorry about the game,” Kenma says softly, stroking his fingers through the damp strands of his hair gently, his other arm coming around to hold his shoulders.
Kuroo closes his eyes. “There will be other games,” he says, more to himself than to Kenma.
“Back in high school . . . I didn’t like volleyball,” Kenma says softly, continuing to stroke Kuroo’s hair, occasionally massaging his scalp as he does.
Kuroo chuckles, relaxing further against Kenma. His fingers feel good, as does the warmth of his skin surrounding him. Kuroo can feel some of the tightness in his chest alleviating.
“I know,” he says.
“But I liked playing with you,” Kenma continues. “I liked seeing everyone so excited and having fun. I liked seeing you have fun.”
Kuroo grins faintly. “Are you trying to tell me that it’s not about winning or losing, but how much fun you’re having?”
Kenma takes his face in his hands, pulling his head back so that when Kuroo opens his eyes, he meets Kenma’s steady gaze.
“Are you having fun?” he asks.
Kuroo considers this. It’s exhausting to play volleyball while also taking classes at the university, and it sucks to lose, especially because of a stupid mistake, but . . . Kuroo has to admit he still loves the game.
“Yeah,” he decides. “I am.”
Kenma nods. “Don’t dwell on one mistake, then. Look forward to the next time you’re on the court. You’ll fight harder, and you’ll do better.” He flicks Kuroo’s forehead lightly. “And if you do make a mistake, realize you’re only human, and you’ll get the quick or make the block next time.”
Kuroo smirks. “Are you sure you don’t want to coach? You’d be really good at it.”
Kenma frowns. “Fuck, no,” he says flatly.
Kuroo laughs, lowering his chin to settle back against Kenma once more. He rests his head against Kenma’s shoulder, and he feels Kenma twist slightly to plant a soft kiss on his hairline.
“Mm, I love you,” Kuroo says, the sentiment escaping him before he can stop it.
Kenma flicks water at his face. “You’re a sap.”
“So’re you.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
Kenma huffs. “Only sometimes,” he relents. “If you need it.”
“Thank you for being sappy for me,” Kuroo says, turning his face into Kenma’s neck to nuzzle it gently.
“Whatever,” Kenma grumbles, though he moves his hand to push his fingers into Kuroo’s hair once more. “We’re going to get pruney,” he warns.
Kuroo closes his eyes. “Let’s just . . . sit like this a little while longer,” he says quietly. “I need it.”
“Okay,” Kenma murmurs, trailing his fingers through the wet strands of Kuroo’s hair gently.
They fall silent, but it’s a comforting silence. Kuroo can feel his anxiety and frustration from earlier slipping away with each brush of Kenma’s fingers across his scalp. He reaches for Kenma’s free hand, and Kenma laces their fingers together, gripping lightly.
They sit like this until the water grows cold. Then Kenma pushes against Kuroo’s back and he sits up, allowing Kenma to get out of the tub. He dries off with a towel, as Kuroo ducks beneath the water to fix his hair, coming back up to see Kenma’s hand reaching toward him.
With a smile, he takes it, hoisting himself up. He takes the extra towel and rubs himself down, as Kenma drains the tub.
“TV and cuddles?” Kuroo asks hopefully.
Kenma nods. “I’ll make popcorn,” he says, grabbing the shirt he was wearing before. He pulls it on before leaving the bathroom.
Kuroo gathers up the rest of their clothes and deposits them in the laundry room before going to grab some pajama pants from their bedroom to pull on.
When he gets back, Kenma’s already seated on the couch, a bowl of popcorn beside him. He moves this for Kuroo to sit, and he snuggles in against Kuroo’s side, as he wraps his arm around Kenma’s shoulders.
“What’re we watching?” he asks, as he takes a handful of popcorn from the bowl.
“Pokémon,” Kenma says, allowing no argument.
Kuroo grins. “Old school. I like it.”
He settles into the couch, as Kenma starts the episode. He runs his fingers lightly over Kenma’s arm, as he watches the anime from their shared past with a pang of nostalgia. He breathes in the scent of Kenma, takes comfort in the warmth of his body nestled against him. Slowly, he finds himself forgetting all about the game. This, right here, is something much better to focus on.