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“What do you mean, ‘a date’?”
“I mean, a date.”
That was how it had gone. Kuroo had managed to get Tsukishima alone – which was a rare occurrence, because Tsukishima tended to try and avoid that kind of situation. There were always other people in the gym, and when they started to empty out, Tsukishima always took his cue and left as well. It just wasn’t possible for Kuroo to get him so removed from other people that he could ask something like this. There was always someone else around, whether it was Bokuto asking for another block, Tsukki, come on, one more! or Hinata buzzing around or that tall Nekoma first year, what’s his name, Haiba, or someone else. And you don’t just ask that kind of thing when there’s a bunch of other people around – not that Tsukishima had expected him to ask, anyway.
“I want you to go on a date with me,” Kuroo had said. Tsukishima remembers looking at him blankly, feeling his mouth hang open, blinking his eyes a little, as if he was unsure that he was hearing the words he was hearing out of the person he was looking at.
When he’d recovered, Tsukishima had just managed to ask him what he meant, if he’d really heard the word “date” out of Kuroo Tetsurou, and he’d said it again: date. “I mean, a date.”
“You don’t seem like the dating type,” Tsukishima says skeptically.
“Neither do you,” Kuroo says.
Well, Tsukishima has to admit that’s true. Tsukishima scowls at that revelation.
“You haven’t said no yet,” Kuroo points out.
Tsukishima tenses. He’s right – Tsukishima hasn’t said no yet. He takes a moment to consider whether or not he actually wants to say no at all. Kuroo is looking at him with his head cocked, towards the side where his hair usually falls in his eyes, so Tsukishima can actually see both of his eyes for once. Tsukishima weighs the pros and cons in the few seconds he has before Kuroo will demand an answer. On the one hand, Kuroo is clever and strong-willed but not hot-headed and stubborn. He’s also attractive; Tsukishima knows that. He has sly eyes and a well-proportioned face and a well-maintained body under his volleyball uniform. This guy would probably be a great kisser – with those looks, he’s sure to have had plenty of practice. Going out with him might even be worth it, just for a shot at that kiss. But on the other hand, Kuroo is obnoxious. He never leaves Tsukishima alone, always poking and prodding and deliberately trying to get him riled up. He acts so annoyingly superior, though maybe rightfully so – after all, he is a better middle blocker than Tsukishima is, though it’s due to the gap in experience that doesn’t close easily when there’s two years between you. Kuroo is a pest, plain and simple. But… would it really be so bad? To give him a chance, at least. Maybe he’s different when he’s dating you.
“Fine,” Tsukishima eventually says.
A small, self-satisfied grin breaks out slowly on Kuroo’s face. “So you said yes?” he says. “Ultimate Tsundere Tsukishima Kei said yes to a date with me?”
Tsukishima bristles at this, both at being called something like that and at the assumption that he couldn’t possibly say yes to something like this. “Yeah,” Tsukishima says. “When.” It’s a question, but he asks it flatly, to indicate his annoyance.
“After practice?”
That’s sudden. How is he going to explain that to his teammates, his absence while he’s on a date with Kuroo? What would they think, if they knew? He wouldn’t care, doesn’t care, what they think – except if they find out, he’s going to catch teasing or questioning or criticism from them. And that will be troublesome. “Fine, yeah,” Tsukishima says anyway. “After practice.”
Kuroo grins at him. He gives a shrug, and a glance towards the gym, as if to say We should get back to it. And they should. It had only been a short break, anyway. They’ve still got an hour or more left to sweat on the court.
“Meet me here after you shower,” Kuroo says. Tsukishima nods.
It’s a few hours before practice is over in earnest and Tsukishima and Kuroo have both cleaned themselves up at their respective places of residence. Tsukishima makes no excuses on the way out of the guest house where he and the rest of the Karasuno team are staying for the duration of the training camp. He only tells Yamaguchi he’s going out, and shakes off Hinata and his questions on his way out the door. Tsukishima meets Kuroo near the gym, where they had met before. They don’t say much beyond exchanging greetings before Kuroo leads the way to wherever takes his fancy. It’s his city, after all. Tsukishima is entirely at his whim.
Dinner is takeout containers of noodles and meat. They could have sat in the restaurant, Tsukishima thinks, even though the place had been sort of small, but Kuroo had blurted out that they wanted their order to go when the cashier had asked. Kuroo hands Tsukishima a pair of chopsticks from the plastic bag as they head back out into the night. The day has cooled down from its sweltering heat now that darkness has set in. The paper container of his dinner is warm in Tsukishima’s hand as they walk.
Kuroo doesn’t bother to stop and sit down anywhere, so Tsukishima is obliged not to either. They eat as they walk, Kuroo tipping his head back to lower noodles into his open mouth. He calls this a date? He’d say this is the shittiest date he’s ever been on, but he hasn’t been on any before to compare it to. Well, he supposes that still makes it the shittiest he’s been on, but that would have to mean it’s also the best, by default. How terrible.
They wander the streets for a while. They’re not by any means in downtown; it’s practically suburbs, out here. Kuroo talks and Tsukishima responds when he feels like it. Kuroo runs his fingers through his hair so many times that Tsukishima stops counting. Is that a nervous habit, or something? The front fringe falls back in his face no matter how many times he does it, but his hair still sticks up everywhere else. Tsukishima watches the muscles in his shoulders and forearm each time, noting how they move. Kuroo turns and smiles at him, hands in his hair, asking some pointless question, and it sort of takes Tsukishima’s breath away. He knows Kuroo is attractive, but it’s when he’s really in motion like this that it’s striking. They stroll through the dark streets, having ditched their takeout containers in someone’s dumpster a while ago.
“Hey, look,” Kuroo says. He points up the street. There’s a gate with a wide lawn behind it. A park, probably. “Let’s go in.”
Parks are closed after dusk, and it’s pushing midnight. Tsukishima purses his lips, but doesn’t reject the idea. They draw close to the gate that is meant to seal off the park. It’s big, made of wrought iron, and looks strong and imposing in the darkness. There’s a sign on the gate that reads, “Entrance after 9 PM is not permitted. Trespassers will be prosecuted.”
“Pfft,” Kuroo says, in reference to the sign. He moves to the gate, and puts a foot on the metal.
“What are you doing?” Tsukishima asks.
“I’m hopping this fence,” Kuroo says, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He pauses with his fingers gripping the bars of the gate, one foot still on the ground.
“Well, that’s obvious,” Tsukishima says dryly. “But it says no trespassing.”
Kuroo laughs out loud, raucous in the darkness. “What, you’re scared of a sign?”
“I’m not scared,” Tsukishima defends.
“Then shut up.” Kuroo’s words are teasing and good-natured, but they rankle at Tsukishima all the same. Kuroo hoists himself up the gate, putting his other foot about halfway up, then pushing to hoist himself over the top of it. He lands deftly on the other side. He adjusts his shirt and looks at Tsukishima through the bars of the gate. “Are you coming, or what?”
It’s trespassing, and Tsukishima isn’t particularly excited about committing a minor crime just because Kuroo told him too, but he is absolutely not going to chicken out. He steels his jaw and follows Kuroo over the gate.
Tsukishima lands on the other side with the crunch of gravel under his feet. Kuroo doesn’t say anything. He wanders off down the path, which leads into darkness. The park has no lights; not even a little streetlamp, which is a little unusual. Tsukishima jogs a little to catch up with him.
“Ha, cool,” Kuroo comments. Tsukishima clicks his tongue against his teeth. What is this? A sappy, sickeningly sweet, walk in the park-type date? Granted, it’s late at night, but it still doesn’t seem Kuroo’s style, even with the trespassing.
“What’s so – ” Tsukishima is about to ask, but as he looks around in the gloom, he notices something odd. Is that – a headstone?
Looking harder, Tsukishima is certain he’s right. They’re on the path at the moment, but the grass that stretches on either side of it is dotted with gravestones and plaques set in the earth. This isn’t a park – it’s a cemetery. Kuroo has him trespassing in a cemetery. “Kuroo, what the fuck? This is a graveyard.”
“Yeah,” Kuroo says. The requisite “and?” is unspoken. He knew. Of course he knew.
“I didn’t…” Tsukishima starts to say.
“You read the no trespassing sign but you didn’t read the one that said ‘cemetery’?” Kuroo snorts. “You’re a piece of work, Tsukki.”
“Shut up!” Tsukishima spits. The trespassing was one thing, but all this suddenly feels disrespectful. As if on cue, Kuroo veers off the path and into the grass. Swallowing a little anxiety, Tsukishima follows him. They step over graves, over marble plaques set in the ground and around stone markers. It’s creepy, walking over people’s graves like this. Tsukishima shivers.
“Hmm, look, this one’s old,” Kuroo says, stopping at one grave. “1901.”
Kuroo’s vision in the dark must be a little better than Tsukishima’s own, because Tsukishima has to squint to make out the words on the headstone.
“Kuroo,” Tsukishima says. “Isn’t this – a little weird?”
Kuroo fixes him with a level gaze. “Seriously, are you chicken? We can leave, if you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared!” Tsukishima protests. “It just feels – wrong.”
“Who knew you had such clear morals?” Kuroo muses. “Anyway, it’s fine. People walk in cemeteries all the time without reason. They just, you know, usually do it in the daytime.”
Tsukishima remains unconvinced. “Whatever,” he says. “Look. That one’s 1892.” He points to one of the nearby grave markers, a plaque of engraved marble set into the grass.
“Cool.”
Tsukishima’s breathing feels too loud in the darkness of the graveyard. It feels noisy and intrusive and suspicious. It’s strange to be in the minority in this way, as a living person in a place filled with the dead.
“I wish we had a Ouija board,” Kuroo says. “I’ve always wanted to mess around with one of those in a cemetery at night. Next time, I guess.”
“Next time?” Tsukishima hisses. He can see Kuroo shrug next to him, but he’s turned away enough that Tsukishima can’t see his face, whether it’s smiling, joking, or not.
“Sure,” Kuroo says. “Though we’d probably bring some others. Those things are more fun with more people.”
Tsukishima wants to protest being dragged to a cemetery like this even once, let alone a ‘next time.’ But he doesn’t speak. He’d been a little reluctant to go on this date in the first place, still isn’t certain he likes where it has gone, but he finds that he’s not as upset about it as he figured he would be about all this. He doesn’t even like Kuroo, other than the physical, really, but it’s actually… sort of alright. Spending time with him like this. It’s by no means a perfect sort of date, it’s not dinner and a movie or a trip to the carnival, but it’s not as if Tsukishima is one for that sort of thing anyway, because he isn’t.
“Hey, Tsukishima,” Kuroo says.
It’s strange for Kuroo to use his full last name – ever since he’d picked up calling him by that nickname, Tsukki, he hadn’t called him anything else. “What?” Tsukishima responds.
“Do you mind…?” Kuroo continues. As he speaks, he reaches over and takes Tsukishima by the hand. The touch makes Tsukishima’s heart pound, the feeling resonant in his ears and chest and throat. Kuroo’s hand is warm and surprisingly soft, and Tsukishima doesn’t pull away even when Kuroo interlaces their fingers. Tsukishima’s body feels hot with embarrassment, and he’s certain Kuroo will be able to feel the strength and speed of his pulse through his palm. They stand there, connected by their hands in the darkness, looking out over the graveyard in silence.
“This is nice,” Kuroo says. His voice is surprisingly soft. It takes Tsukishima off-guard, hearing his voice like that, quiet and sincere and completely lacking any taunts or teasing or commands.
“You’re holding my hand in a cemetery,” Tsukishima criticizes, when he recovers. “It’s not the nicest thing that could be happening.”
“Look,” Kuroo says. He gestures around them with his free hand. “They always make places like this pretty. It’s a nice place, all in all.”
“Places like this?” Tsukishima says. It’s meant as another criticism.
“Yeah, cemeteries,” Kuroo says, nodding. “They’re always nice; to honor the dead, that sort of thing. Just because it’s a cemetery doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful.”
Tsukishima still can’t shake the feeling that it’s creepy and a little disrespectful to be doing this. He thinks he’d need to see the place in the daytime to judge its “beauty,” but even in the dark Tsukishima can see weeping willows and other trees with their branches spread wide, and gentle hills, and a mausoleum at the top of one of them. At the very least, it has quiet dignity. Tsukishima takes a moment to appreciate it.
They move this way, with their fingers interlaced and their palms pressed to one another’s, silent as they roam across the graves beneath their feet. The loudest sounds are their breathing and occasionally the small slapping sound of their shoes on one of the stone grave markers set into the grass. Whatever else it is, it’s peaceful.
Suddenly, Kuroo stops dead, his hand tugging on Tsukishima’s as Tsukishima continues walking. Tsukishima stops as well, turning to face Kuroo, to ask why he’d stopped. Kuroo is running his hand through his hair, again.
“Kei,” Kuroo says. The use of his name, unexpectedly informal and loud in the silent darkness though it’s not more than Kuroo’s normal speaking voice, startles Tsukishima a little. With a gentle jerk of his hand, Kuroo pulls Tsukishima closer to him. There’s not much space between the two of them now, a couple of inches at most. It feels awkward, sort of. Sure, they’ve been holding hands, but Tsukishima isn’t used to being this close to anyone. At least, not like this. If it weren’t so dark, Tsukishima would watch Kuroo’s face for his expression. But it’s unintelligible.
Though Tsukishima doesn’t miss the movement of Kuroo’s head. He leans forward a bit, hesitates for an instant, and then… he presses his lips to Tsukishima’s. Tsukishima allows it, lets Kuroo kiss him, lets Kuroo’s lips move gently against his own. After a second or two, Tsukishima pulls away only slightly, letting his forehead rest against Kuroo’s. They stay like that for a few beats, until Tsukishima tips his face up slightly to kiss Kuroo back. One of Tsukishima’s hands pushes to Kuroo’s shoulder, as if to push him away, but the other holds Kuroo in place on the back of Kuroo’s neck. Tsukishima feels a little breathless, like the air is thin around him. This is his first real kiss, after all. He’d rather it hadn’t been in a cemetery… but it’s too late for that now.
Kuroo’s hands are warm on Tsukishima’s waist, his lips wet and soft against Tsukishima’s. The only sounds in the whole cemetery are the soft smooching noises they’re making, a jarring but pleasant sign of life in a place meant for the dead. Kuroo’s kiss is surprisingly sweet. Tsukishima hadn’t really thought he’d be kissing Kuroo, hadn’t really thought he’d want to be kissing Kuroo, still wasn’t sure it was right to be kissing the captain of his school’s rival team in a cemetery in the dead of night, but no matter how he looks at it, the kiss still feels good. He’d be happy to stay like this for a while, to keep kissing Kuroo, but there’s a strange amount of light shining through his closed eyelids. He pulls away from Kuroo and looks towards its source.
Kuroo’s head whips around when he notices the light as well. There’s a short moment where both of them look towards the entrance of the cemetery, where the lights are shining from, before the quality of them changes. There’s sudden flashes of red and blue, and the short sound of a warning siren.
“Ah, shit,” Kuroo says. “Come on.”
Without warning, Kuroo grabs Tsukishima’s hand. Tsukishima would protest, but Kuroo is already running, and he tugs Tsukishima along after him roughly. Tsukishima has to sprint to keep up with Kuroo. They dash across the grass, between headstones and over plaques.
“Kuroo – ” Tsukishima starts to say. Whether it’s to question his actions or complain or just make sure of Kuroo’s presence as something more than a hand gripping his as they rush through the darkness, he’s not sure.
“Come on,” Kuroo says. His words are breathless, the two of them running full out. “Some neighbor must have seen us and called the cops. Keep running! You’re the one who didn’t want to get caught trespassing.”
They’re not headed towards the main entrance they came in through (or rather, over). Instead, they’re running to another side of the cemetery, where they will undoubtedly meet with another fence.
“You asshole,” Tsukishima says. He pants hard, making his legs move as quickly as he can get them to. It’s not really a struggle to keep up with Kuroo, but Kuroo is moving as fast as he can as well. Their feet hit the ground in unison, their long strides matched to one another’s. “You call this a date?”
“Ha, ha ha,” Kuroo laughs, exhilaration and exhaustion both making his laugh breathy and disjointed. “Are you saying you’re not having fun?”
Tsukishima wants to yell, wants to say no, of course I’m not having fun, I’m running from the cops through a graveyard in the middle of the night, what about this is fun? But somehow, he isn’t thinking about any of that. He’s thinking about the exhilaration of bolting across the grass, the feeling of Kuroo’s hand pulling him along, the feeling of fleeing but with an incredible sensation of freedom soaring in his chest. They reach a fence, high and chain-link, and Kuroo finally lets go of his hand so that they can both scramble over it. They hit the ground running, and they rush past dark-windowed buildings and through alleys. Kuroo laughs again and keeps laughing, even as out of breath as he is, as they both are. They stop eventually, in an alley that’s only very partially illuminated by streetlights.
Tsukishima is bent over, his hands on his knees to steady himself while he catches his breath. Kuroo stands upright, fingers laced behind his head, letting his chest heave with long inhales.
“Lost ‘em,” Kuroo says. He laughs again. Tsukishima almost wishes he would stop doing that, stop treating this all as a game. But then, it may as well be. It’s not like they’d been doing anything wrong. Just walking through a cemetery. And kissing a little, but that’s beside the point.
Eventually Tsukishima straightens. They’ve mostly caught their breath, and Kuroo turns to him.
“Now, where were we?” he says.
“What?”
Kuroo catches him by the wrist and pulls him close again, close enough that their hips press flush to one another’s. Oh. Right, of course. Just before the cops had showed up, they had been…
Kuroo leans forward enough to press his lips to Tsukishima’s again. Tsukishima’s lips part easily, letting his breath huff hot against Kuroo’s mouth. Kuroo lets go of Tsukishima’s wrist so he can keep Tsukishima close with his hands on Tsukishima’s neck, thumbs reaching back to stroke Tsukishima’s jaw. Gently, Kuroo’s tongue pushes against Tsukishima’s. It’s hot and insistent, but not pressuring. Tsukishima kisses him back anyway. His eyes droop closed, letting himself feel all of it. He’d been right. Kuroo is an incredible kisser.
He takes a minute or two, but Kuroo pulls away at long last. Their hips are still pressed to each other’s, so most of the distance between them comes from the way Kuroo leans back, though he keeps his hands on the back of Tsukishima’s neck.
“Kuroo,” Tsukishima starts.
“Come on, now, we’re on a first-name basis at this point,” Kuroo says. “Kei,” he adds.
Nobody really calls him that, aside from his parents and his brother. Teachers and classmates and teammates all call him by his last name, and Yamaguchi has used his nickname since middle school. But no one really calls him Kei.
Well. Except for Kuroo, he figures.
“Tetsurou,” Tsukishima corrects himself. Kuroo’s wide, white-toothed smile is the easiest part of his face to see in the darkness.
“We should get you home,” Kuroo says. Back to the guest house where the Karasuno team is staying, he means. It is late, and they have practice again tomorrow. Luckily, they hadn’t wandered too far from the gym where they practice, and the guest house isn’t far from there.
Wending their way back home is much more leisurely than escaping the cemetery. For most of the way, Kuroo holds Tsukishima’s hand, his grip loose but warm, almost affectionate. It’s strange. Tsukishima hasn’t ever really held hands with anyone like this before. It’s always seemed silly, frivolous, and unnecessary. But, well… he’s actually enjoying it. Soon enough, the guest house looms into view.
“Almost don’t want to leave you,” Kuroo says.
“Shut up,” Tsukishima says.
Kuroo laughs, gives Tsukishima another light kiss, squeezes his hand.
“We should do it again sometime,” Kuroo says when he steps away.
Any number of quips spring to Tsukishima’s mind, about how he could live without running from the cops on a date, about how a date to a cemetery was far from ideal, about how terrible Kuroo is at romance – but he doesn’t vocalize any of them. “Yeah,” is what he says instead. “Yeah, we should.”
Kuroo grins, and Tsukishima heads towards the guest house. As he slips inside, he glances back at Kuroo once more. His smile can still be seen even in the darkness. Tsukishima shuts the door behind himself as quietly as possible.
For a long time afterwards, Tsukishima lies awake on his futon, the exhilaration of his date with Kuroo not wearing off as easily as he’d have liked it to. It’s strange, having your first kiss in a cemetery. Committing a minor crime on your first date. Holding hands while you run from the cops. Tsukishima is the sort of person who would deny any sense of adventure, but bizarrely, Tsukishima finds himself thinking of the experience fondly, rather than with much regret. Maybe Kuroo is annoying and bothersome and infuriating, and maybe he had terrible taste in activities that constitute “dates,” but maybe, just maybe, Tsukishima wouldn’t mind a second one.