Chapter Text
Kuroo hates his life. As in: he seriously hates his life. Now before you start getting any ideas, it didn’t used to be this way. In fact, ten minutes ago, Kuroo loved his life. Ten minutes ago, Kuroo was celebrating the first week of living on his own in a brand-new apartment with his best friend in the entire world (as long as Kenma wasn’t listening, in which case, his second-best friend in the entire world). Yes, Kuroo had it all: no bedtimes, all you can eat chocolate cookies for breakfast, and a roommate who didn’t care if he left his week-old dirty socks on the couch.
But that all changed when the Akaashi nation attacked.
If you were to go back in time and tell the Kuroo of last week that he’d be staring at the ceiling (because no, he is not going to think of what is directly in front of his eyeballs,) and praying to every god in existence to take pity on his poor, sinning soul, he would have laughed and said, “how could things go that horribly wrong in one week?”
Yet here Kuroo is, dreading Bokuto’s brilliant decision to get bunk beds, clutching his phone for dear life, and texting the one and only person he knows would never betray him like this.
-
“This is literally the best thing to ever happen to me,” Bokuto says, a few minutes after signing his name on the dotted line that said he’d be signing his soul to Kuroo for the next nine months. At the time, Kuroo felt the same way, a matching smile as dazzling as Bokuto’s on his own face. Now that they were second years in university, they wouldn’t have to put up with dorm showers that smelled worse than a gym locker room or sticking to a no booze policy. No, Kuroo and Bokuto had put in their dues and now it was time to revel in freedom.
“Better than winning nationals?” Kuroo reminds, and he laughs when Bokuto gasps, eyes wide and jaw dropped. They’d been the best of friends since meeting in their first year at Nekoma, and even though the team took pride in their catlike likeness, Kuroo always thought Bokuto was more of a bird. Or a rabbit. Or a dog, really. Just nothing catlike at all.
“Okay, maybe not better than that but really close!” Always quick to recover, Bokuto simply knocks his shoulder into Kuroo’s and pumps his fists in the air. “Dude, we’re gonna have the coolest man cave ever.”
Since Kuroo had not yet suffered the awful memory that would forever haunt his life, he raised his hand to highfive Bokuto without a thought when his new roommate lifted his arm. “Party central, my friend.”
Bokuto’s eyes sharpen like a cat’s and by the way his smirk revealed all of his pearly whites, Kuroo knew Bokuto had a life-changing plan. “Speaking of party…”
“Bro.”
“Bro.”
They fistbump.
-
Though they hadn’t discussed it earlier, there was no way Kuroo was going to refuse the opportunity to party in their brand-new apartment. Kuroo and Bokuto had moved all their furniture in already, which wasn’t all that hard considering they had everything necessary for the best housewarming party ever: a karaoke machine-cum-jukebox, a ping pong table that could double as both a coffee table and a beer pong table, and a cooler filled with cheap beer and vodka strong enough to clear any sinuses in the dead of spring. Oh yeah, they were ready, and thanks to Bokuto’s amazing planning and foresight, they even texted everybody they invited to bring beer, a friend, and drunk munchies.
Kuroo’s unpacking the bathroom stuff, which consists of two measly rolls of toilet paper, one toothbrush, a bar of soap, and a shower curtain without the rings to hang it on, when he gets the text that forever changed the course of his life.
“Hey, bro!” he yells, and immediately Bokuto’s hair peeks at the doorway. “Does Kenma really have to bring a plus one?”
“Um, duh. It said so on the mass text!” Bokuto whines, waving his phone as if that proves anything.
Kuroo should have suspected it then, but there was no telling that he had made his fatal mistake at that very moment. Moral of the story? Never trust Bokuto.
Kuroo stares at the single refill of toilet paper beneath his and Bokuto’s brand new sink. He tilts his head. He picks up his phone again.
-
Four hours later, Kuroo has to admit he’s feeling pretty good. Maybe it’s the way Kenma is adorably scowling while pressed up against his wall, or maybe it’s the vodka. It’s probably the vodka, but in any case, he flings himself next to Kenma, laughing with the breath knocked out of him and already slumping against his childhood friend and maybe crush. The vodka tells him he definitely has a crush on Kenma, but his delicate, safeguarded, insecure feelings assure him he does not. “’Sup Kenma? When’d you get here?”
“A few minutes ago,” Kenma says blandly, pressing buttons on his phone. He’s playing a light novel game and not paying any attention to the party, but Kuroo can tell he’s enjoying himself by the way he holds a red solo cup (which Bokuto had to run to the convenience store to buy after the third person showed up) filled with gin and tonic. “I already put your toilet paper in the restroom, by the way. Keiji said it would be wise to buy in bulk, so there are extras.”
“Kenma? I love you,” Kuroo drawls, nuzzling his chin against the top of Kenma’s head, right where his roots are beginning to get too long again. Had Kuroo been sober, he might have caught on sooner, but he purses his lips, which had gone numb along with his nose two drinks ago, before realizing he doesn’t know who the hell Keiji is. “Keiji?”
Kenma pauses his game (and that’s how Kuroo knows Kenma truly loves him), and points to a boy who seems as excited to be at the party as Kenma. He’s sitting stiffly on the couch nursing a red solo cup on his lap, both hands pressed to it as if he was holding a warm mug of tea. “My plus one. He played for Fukuroudani last year. He brought rum too.”
“I like him already,” Kuroo slurs.
“He’s not drinking any though,” Kenma says lightly, resuming his game.
Kuroo blinks exactly as Kenma’s protagonist begins wooing a tall, dark-haired upperclassman with a catlike smirk. “What!?”
“He brought it as a gift and thinks it’s rude to drink it,” Kenma explains.
If Kuroo hadn't been so invested in getting everybody at this party 110% smashed, he might have focused more on the way Kenma’s cheeks were getting rosy and how his shoulders eased closer into Kuroo’s chest. Future Kuroo wishes he had.
“Bokuto! That guy doesn’t have a drink!” Kuroo yells, now pointing to the startled boy on the couch. To his credit, Kenma is so used to it that he doen’t even flinch, and seconds later, Bokuto pushes through the sea of guests packed like sardines into their too-tiny one-bedroom apartment, nearly barreling into the guy.
“Whoa!” Bokuto squeals – literally, squeals – as he shoves his big mouth and biceps into the unsuspecting victim’s personal space. Kuroo starts to snicker, realizing the new guy is uncomfortable, but Bokuto obliviously presses on. “You’re, like, the prettiest guy on the face of this earth! What can I get you to drink?”
“That’s an exaggeration,” the boy says, his smile escaping Kuroo’s careful gaze. “I’ll have whatever you’re having. I’m Akaashi, by the way.”
-
Some hours later, Kuroo finds two people passed out on the floor, one guy curled up and sucking his thumb in the kitchen, and a girl he doesn’t even know hanging halfway in the bathtub and the other half on the toilet. Not in the mood to deal with people and craving some cuddle time with his pillow and maybe Kenma, Kuroo (mostly Kenma) start to usher people out. Their apartment has a silence code, which had been pleasantly reminded to both Kuroo and Bokuto by their disgruntled neighbors, and next week is the beginning of the term anyway, so nobody had come in the hopes of a party popping until five in the morning. A few people Kuroo doesn’t know are still hanging around, and Kenma remains by his side in the kitchen as Kuroo begins heating up some pizza rolls. He’s careful to step over the passed-out guy on his kitchen floor, though he’s obviously more concerned about his pizza rolls than the rando’s livelihood.
“You could stay over tonight,” Kuroo offers. By now it’s so quiet that the only sounds are snores, the beep of the microwave, and two hushed voices, followed by giggles. Kuroo quirks an eyebrow in the direction of the couch.
Kuroo notes that the lighting is really bad in the kitchen, because he can’t quite read Kenma’s expression. Kenma never blushed, but for some reason Kuroo remembers Kenma blushing. That can’t be right, so he blames it on the lights. “I have to see what Keiji wants to do first. We came together.”
Kuroo is drunk, but not drunk enough that he doesn’t catch how Kenma doesn’t say no. He grins and hops on their counter to take a seat. He can feel his numb cheeks stretched into a smile, but he doesn’t want to give himself away, trying his damn hardest to seem nonchalant. “He can stay too. If he wants to, I mean. The couch is free.”
Both Kuroo and Kenma turn their gaze to the direction of the couch, where Akaashi’s cheeks are completely red as Bokuto whispers something into his ear. It’s not like earlier when Akaashi was stiff and his face was mono-expressive, watching Bokuto with the same bland expression regardless of if Bokuto cracked a joke that made the whole room bust out in laughter or if he threw himself to the floor with fat, crocodile tears when somebody teased his hair. No, something is off, something that Kuroo should have realized earlier, but he’s too focused on the way Kenma’s heat feels against his shoulder and the way he thinks he can feel Kenma’s breath on his neck. Damn hormones.
“It, uh, looks like Bokuto doesn’t mind him.”
“More than that,” Kenma says flatly, and Kuroo swallows deeply as they watch Bokuto accidentally kick his cup of cranvodka all over their new carpet and Akaashi receive his cranberry-juice stained lips.
“Looks like you’re staying over, kitten.”
Kuroo knows for a fact that Kenma is drunk because he actually snorts and fake meows at Kuroo’s teasing for once. Before Kuroo can point it out, the microwave beeps, letting Kuroo know his pizza rolls are done.
-
“A bunk bed can’t support the weight of four people,” Kenma explains for the fifth time, obviously at his wits’ end. Ever the rationale one, it’s Kenma who steers Akaashi away from the bedroom and toward the couch.
“But I wanna sleep with Akaaaaaaashiiiii!” Bokuto wails. Wails.
“I will miss you, Bokuto-san, but I will not forget you,” Kenma’s friend replies back far too reverently for a guy who’s slurring every other word. Akaashi isn’t too different from Bokuto. Apparently he’s so far gone that he’s crying as well, though luckily for Kuroo and Bokuto’s neighbors, crying quietly. Akaashi reaches out dramatically like he’s in a tragic romantic drama with his pretty, silent tears streaming down his face, and Bokuto mirrors the pose, only it’s Kuroo holding him back.
“Then sleep with him on the couch!” Kenma huffs, barely able to maneuver the compliant but sobbing nuisance away from the bedroom. Akaashi falls to the couch with a soft thump of the couch’s cushions, his weeping instantly stopping as he passes out over the armrest
There’s no holding back Bokuto by that point, and Bokuto trips over himself and falls right on Akaashi, passing out similarly once he’s snuggled up, glued to his new friend’s back. Kuroo sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. “He’s such a pain in the ass.”
“Mm,” Kenma agrees. He doesn’t protest at the two passed out on the couch or try to pull them apart; Kenma is a lot lazier than Kuroo in that respect. He simply marches into Bokuto and Kuroo’s shared bedroom and begins to crawl beneath Kuroo’s covers.
“Bokuto’s bunk is free if he’s not going to use it for the night,” Kuroo points out in an awed daze.
Kenma shrugs. “I’m tired already.”
Kuroo decides to take one out of Kenma’s book and not question it. He crawls behind Kenma into his brand-new bed and blames the vodka for wrapping his arms around his best friend.
-
In truth Kuroo hadn’t drank that much, more concerned with getting everybody else at their party wasted, so the morning after isn’t so bad for him. He has a slight headache but knows it’ll be gone by the afternoon just from the feel of it, but what makes him feel awful is waking up and not feeling Kenma’s warmth.
He rolls onto his back instantly, as surprised to see Kenma sitting on the edge of the bed as he is to find Kenma not in his arms. Play it cool, he reminds himself, and stretches like a lazy cat, propping himself on one elbow. “Sleep well?”
“Yes,” Kenma says simply, though his mouth is stiff, as if upset. Kuroo notices that his phone is in his hand and plugged into Kuroo’s cord, so it can’t possibly be a dead phone upsetting his friend. Before he gets a chance to ask, Kenma sets his phone aside and stares at Kuroo. “Everybody woke up and went home.”
“That’s good.” Kuroo switches his gaze from Kenma to the door and back to Kenma, noting that it’s closed. He doesn’t remember closing it yesterday, not that all his memories are super clear. “I don’t feel like cooking, so maybe we can wake up Bokuto and eat out for breakfast.”
“Keiji stayed over too,” Kenma says, his expression only becoming harder.
“Great. Let’s invite him too.”
Kenma’s expression once again hardens until it’s too cute and Kuroo can’t help but release a laugh. The air that passes through his lips sounds more like a fart than a laugh, but he scoops his friend into his arms despite making such an uncool sound. “What’s got you all bothered, huh?”
Kenma doesn’t resist and simply flops against Kuroo’s chest like a ragdoll, words muffled by strong pecs. “Everybody who left? I didn’t wake them up.”
“Okay…?”
After a short while of Kuroo giving no answer, Kenma looks up, still frowning, and explains, “they woke them up because they were going at it.”
“Um.” And Kuroo truly doesn’t know what to say. He blames the hangover but it’s rare that Kenma doesn’t make sense. Kenma merely scowls and pushes himself away from Kuroo to open the door. Kuroo follows him and hears the sounds before he gets an unwanted eyeful of Bokuto’s ass and yells out, “God damn it, Bokuto!”
Bokuto yells back something like, “sorry, bro!” but Kuroo can’t really tell because Bokuto’s mouth is stuffed with Akaashi’s cock.
-
They say nothing and don’t bother with showers. Bokuto’s breath reeks the heaviest of booze, but the waitress merely shakes her head and asks them what they want to eat.
“Coffee,” they all answer in unison.
-
“So that…was a morning,” Kuroo says at breakfast, once they’re all seated upright and have coffee in their hands. Kenma’s seated next to him, which means Bokuto and the guy from last night are inevitably seated next to each other on the other side of the table. Normally Kuroo wouldn’t mind this arrangement, but he has a hunch that he should change who’s sitting next to who. How he wished he trusted that hunch.
Bokuto answers first, and he genuinely looks sorry in that cheeky, just-got-caught-stealing-a-cookie-from-the-jar kind of way. “Sorry, Akaashi’s bedhead was so cute, I couldn’t help myself. All I could think of was, ‘man! I really gotta suck this guy’s dick!’”
“That’s not appropriate table conversation at all,” Akaashi scolds, but unlike Bokuto, he doesn’t look sorry at all.
Kuroo is too busy trying to figure out how Bokuto’s mind works that he can’t really focus on their banter, but he does catch, “at least I didn’t tell them about rimming you last night,” and, “if you keep that up, I won’t return the favor.” That’s the first time Kuroo wishes for brain bleach, though he really should have saved that wish for one week later.
“You two seem…close,” Kenma observes. His voice is just as tired as Kuroo’s, the bags under his eyes much darker, and Kuroo has known Kenma far longer than Bokuto to know that Kenma is extremely close to losing it.
“That’s because we’re dating!” Bokuto gushes. Kuroo spits out his coffee.
Akaashi has the nerve to make a face like he’s disgusted with Kuroo and the way his coffee leaves untidy puddles of coffee on the table, but Kuroo’s reality check says that he’s the only one with the right to make that face. “Dating? You just met!”
“Well, actually we’ve known each other since high school. Akaashi played setter for Fukuroudani Academy. Remember them? They were strong. Anyway, he’s the guy who’d always set for me during training camp. So cool, right!? I thought he was awesome, and as it turns out he thought the same about me,” Bokuto explains as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and don’t think Kuroo doesn’t see how he easily wraps an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders. The waitress glares at them while refilling their coffees, but Bokuto and Akaashi are completely unfazed by her icy stare. “So I said, ‘hey Akaashi! Set some balls for me again sometime.’ And then he said, ‘I know where you can set some balls right no--’”
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi chides sharply, finally blushing. Kuroo tells by Akaashi’s stiff shoulder that he’s pinching Bokuto somewhere hard, but his repressed memories block out where exactly.
It’s certainly awkward after that, not only because nobody knows what to say, but Kuroo can’t decide where to even begin. He keeps starting and restarting sentences, ultimately giving up and shaking his head, letting out a breath that sounds more like a hiss.
“…I didn’t bring you to this party just to hook up,” Kenma eventually says, quietly.
Kuroo grips his hands into fists before he does something stupid like hug Kenma, but he sees Akaashi’s genuinely hurt expression and restrains himself from making a joke of it.
“It’s not like that. Please believe me, Kozume-san. It’s as Bokuto-san said. I admit that being drunk made me uninhibited in my actions, but I didn’t expect to…meet my soulmate.”
“That’s what you’re going with?” Kuroo drawls, unimpressed.
Kenma looks up from his game, and that’s how Kuroo knows it’s serious now. Kuroo won’t ever forget that moment because he has never, ever in his entire life seen Kenma look more lost or frustrated, not even the first time he tried to drive the Mako. “You don’t even know him!”
“It sounds ridiculous.” Kuroo is only surprised that it’s Bokuto saying it, but his hand around Akaashi’s shoulder clutches into a fist and flexes. “I know that. I don’t expect either of you to understand but… Kuroo, you’re my bro and I wanted you to be the first to know. And Kenma, you’re the bro of my bro so you’re important to me too. We feel the same and we’re serious about this, okay? It’s not like-- It’s not like…”
Kuroo has to hand it to Akaashi, since he’s known Bokuto for maybe an hour -- two hours tops -- sober, and already he’s shushing Bokuto in a way that’s sure to calm him down. But Bokuto is too emotional, too passionate, and he slams his fist on the table too hard, announces too loudly: “We didn’t just hook up! We made love!”
Kuroo, honestly, only has one thing to say: “Bruh.”