Chapter Text
Kenma wakes up slowly, senses coming to him in drops of consciousness. His mind supplies him with the essentials – what day it is, what time he needs to be online, where he is –
Waves of unwarranted memories come crashing in: individual images morphing to moving ones until a High Definition projection of a particular touch, a particular moan jolts him to full awareness.
He opens his eyes straight to Kuroo staring back at him.
“Yeah,” Kuroo says after a moment. “That happened.”
Kenma shuts his eyes closed at that.
“Are you panicking?” Kuroo asks a beat later, voice quiet and strangely hoarse.
“No.” Because at least that’s true. He’s not a stranger to the ritual of waking up next to your one-night stand:
- a must for Kenma: the shower of embarrassment;
- if it was a decent lay or the other party is feeling charitable: the breakfast of regret;
- and the inevitable: the walk of shame.
But then again, none of that applies here. This is his place and that is his shower over there so it will be a shower of necessity; Kuroo restocked his pantry yesterday so his breakfast will be somewhat decent after weeks of skipping it entirely; and he will be doing no such thing as a walk of shame.
Unless you consider –
“You are panicking,” Kuroo states firmly and not asked this time.
Kenma opens his eyes again to scowl at him. “Not panicking. More or less overthinking.” Because that is exactly what this is.
Kuroo shrugs, barely moving his shoulder. Kenma hasn’t moved an inch since waking up either. He is still partially slumped over Kuroo, legs overlapping in ways that are more familiar than not, skin pressed together in multiple touch points and Kuroo’s arm still slung over his hips – his naked hips.
“How long have you been awake?” Kenma needs all the data before he can decide on his next plan of action.
“Maybe two seconds before you did.” Kuroo isn’t smiling or smirking or any of those false bravado he has perfected over the years.
Kenma nods at that, mind hazy. Well, that was useless.
“You are overthinking again.”
“Kuro,” Kenma huffs out. “I woke up naked next to your ugly face after sleeping with you. And there is no alcohol to blame.” This time was left unsaid. “Forgive me if I am taking a bit of time to process all of this.”
Kuroo moves to fully lie down on his back, the blanket shifting, uncovering his naked torso and the path of soft hair on his lower abdomen until it disappears under the sheet.
Kenma is unsure if that’s a sign of defeat or victory or provocation or if that was Kuroo’s chosen move and Kenma needs to make his move next. Unthinking, he scoots back, losing all their multiple touch points, his skin tingling with strange static energy.
He gathers as much blanket as he can and wraps it around himself.
“Well, you have two options.” Kuroo isn’t looking at him. That itself means he is equally shaken as Kenma. Kenma is unsure if that makes him feel any better. “You can continue overthinking here as I jump to the shower or you can overthink in the shower while I figure out our breakfast.”
“I’ll go take a shower.” Kenma answers. Escape route then.
Kuroo finally looks back at him with a ghost of a smile. “Then I guess it’s breakfast duty for me.” There was a second of hesitation before Kuroo exhales, letting go of whatever that was holding him back, and ruffles Kenma’s hair. “Don’t think too much. You need your brain for your meeting later.”
He stands up and shamelessly wanders around Kenma’s room buttnaked, picking up his clothes, and in less than 20 seconds he is in his boxers and tugging a shirt on as he leaves the room.
Kenma blinks at the ceiling, stomach queasy. “You are a fucking idiot, Kozume. You piece of shit.”
__
Breakfast is fried mackerel, rice, and natto because Kuroo is gross.
Kenma says exactly that as he joins Kuroo who already started eating without him. “Just eat, you ungrateful little shit.”
They fall into silence with the morning news on TV as their background. It’s not necessarily awkward but Kenma knows for a fact that since they haven’t seen each other in two months, Kuroo has a laundry list of things he wants to tell Kenma. Kuroo’s endless chatter over breakfast is as expected as discounted sales on games 10 months after their release if you know the right channels.
Kenma grimaces. Better pull the bandaid off swiftly.
“I’m safe.”
Kuroo freezes midchew. He blinks rapidly, grabbing a glass of water, drinking a mouthful before blinking back at Kenma again. “Sorry – what was that?”
Kenma looks at him steely. “I’m assuming you guys have regular tests – and well, you being you I’m guessing you are safe. So as a decent human being, I am telling you that I am too. Safe, that is.”
Kuroo looks like he’s regretting waking up this morning. And well, Kenma is feeling particularly vindictive so: “And well, you didn’t use a condom last night. So I’m just saying – ”
“ – You’re safe! Okay, I got it. Jesus, shut up.” Kuroo’s rubbing his face now with both hands.
“I mean, the last guy I slept with was – ”
“Holy shit – shut up. Can we not – please.” He looks absolutely mortified. Kenma happily proceeds to eat his mackerel.
“You are such a fucking asshole, do you know that?” Kuroo is still glaring at him.
“Well, it seems like you really liked mine last night.”
Kuroo raised his palms. “I give up. Fine. You wanna talk about it. We will talk about it. Give it to me, Kozume.”
“We don’t have to. But like, this isn’t the first time we slept together, Kuro. You don’t have to act like you took my virginity or something.”
Something akin to anger flashes to Kuroo’s face and Kenma, as always, chooses to ignore it. Kuroo can be inanely primal at times.
“But we don’t exactly have sex every weekend either. And you are dating – ”
“We are not.” Kenma stabs his perfectly innocent mackerel. “I know you are the paragon of monogamous relationships but being fuckbuddies is a perfectly reasonable arrangement between two consenting adults.”
“Stop talking like you entered a trade agreement with your – ” Kuroo, honest to goodness, shivers. “Your fucking COO. Of all people.”
Kenma feels like it’s juvenile of him to roll his eyes so he didn’t but it was a near thing. “What is it with you and Jun anyway? Jun has been nothing but friendly with you.”
“It’s just plain unprofessional of both of you, that’s why. And you know that.”
Kenma kicks him under the table. “When I let you fuck me last night that doesn’t mean I gave you the right to make comments about my life.”
Kuroo, the ever-loving asshole, kicks him back. “When I willingly let you beat me whenever we play Tekken since we were eight, I earned the right to make comments on your life.”
Kenma scoffs at that. “An idiot and delusional.”
“Excuse me. According to my fansites, I am nothing but reasonable, responsible, ravishing, refined – ”
“Repelling, revolting – ”
Kuroo slams down his palms on the table. “I am not gonna let you continue slander my good name after I lovingly prepared you breakfast.”
Kenma continues chewing, not breaking their eye contact. “ – repulsive, repugnant – ”
“I’m taking a shower,” Kuroo declares as he stands up.
“Your mother didn’t raise a quitter,” Kenma starts. “Finish your fo –” He trails off when he sees Kuroo’s empty plate.
And just like any other decade long game of theirs, Kuroo’s face softens, breaking into a small, familiar smile. And that’s the cue. Topic dropped. Crisis averted. Everything in balance. Status quo. “Actually I am running late. Can you -
“ - yeah, I’ll pack your food.” Kenma slumps back to his chair. The mackerel tastes bland all of a sudden. “Do you want me to pack an extra bento or something?”
“Nah. I’m good. I need to be in the gym in an hour.”
Kenma nods, eyes back on his food. He feels Kuroo touch his hair, blunt nails scratching his scalp as he passes by Kenma on his way to the bathroom. And Kenma, just like any other decade long game of theirs, doesn’t move an inch until he hears the bathroom door close.
_
Kenma is on his gaming chair, his knees folded and drawn together, pressed close against his chest, bare toes wiggling. He is surrounded by six large screens but only three are turned on at the moment:
- The first one is split between monitoring JPX and FOREX
- The second one is an on-going Skype call with five other people - where he has muted himself and is only attending to make sure they are on track on the product development
- The third one is a gantt chart he should be reviewing
Glorious as the technology that enables him to multitask like a god, he is however opting to ignore all three monitors as he scrolls down his phone, brows furrowed, mouth tight.
“Hey.”
Kenma doesn’t look up as he continues going through his personal email. “Are you sure Keiji’s not on half day tomorrow as well? I think I saw an email a few weeks ago about some school activity this week.”
He hears footsteps and he only glances up when he hears the steps stop next to him and he smells that familiar wood sage cologne. “Ayumi hasn’t mentioned anything,” Kuroo answers, voice not revealing anything.
Kenma bites his lower lip to stop himself from saying something he’d regret. He considers himself a pretty amenable guy. He strategizes for a living. He is basically making money by overthinking things. Rarely is there anything that would tick Kenma off because chances are he already thought of it and the novelty of any emotional attachment has worn off.
Kenma, however, is big enough of a man to admit that not being able to read Kuroo in some rare times is one of those things to continue to piss him off beyond belief. It has proven fatal, life-altering, and downright disastrous - to Kenma, at least.
“I’ll call her later just in case.” Kenma says with as much control on his voice as he can. He drops his feet back to the floor, tucking his phone to his pocket. “Are you heading out now?”
“Yeah. I already told them I’ll be late. But that’s fine. I’m betting I’m not the only one.” There's a lick of tease in there but Kenma is almost at the end of his stick here.
He glares at Kuroo, challenging. With a small smile, Kuroo expertly deflected. “Anyway, so about Keiji -”
“After this concall,” Kenma gestures to the ongoing Skype call, “I just need to drop by the office for a meeting then I’ll go straight to your dad’s place. But I might need to go back right after to sign something. Jun is insisting some MSA must be signed before COB.”
Kuroo hums. “We just have a team meeting until noon, then press briefing and some light training today. I can pick you both up from your office at five. Will you be done by then?”
“Yeah, should be.” Kenma nods, staring at Kuroo, his stomach heavy with dread.
“Cool”. Kuroo stares back. “Listen.”
Kenma grimaces. “Please don’t.”
“We need to talk.”
Kenma stands up. “We really do not.”
“Kenma.” Kuroo’s voice gets a bit louder.
Kenma instinctively flinches. Kuroo rarely uses that tone on him.
“You are late, aren’t you? You said so yourself. I’m going to get your food.” Kuroo grabs his arm before he can successfully flee the room. “Kitten.”
Kenma stops. It’s useless to struggle. He turns, looking at the other. He’s tired. So fucking tired. “It’s just sex, Kuroo.”
“Just sex?” Kuroo repeats, voice strange. Kenma doesn’t say anything.
“So tell me, in that ridiculously strange brain of yours, do you categorize me the same as Jun then? A fuckbuddy?” Kuroo ploughs on and Kenma hates how he genuinely sounds curious. Not a drop of anger.
“I guess if we do it again anytime soon. Currently, you are a what? Three night stand? Four? To be perfectly honest, the years and months in between us sleeping together kinda makes it hard for me to categorize you as a fuckbuddy.” He stops himself when he sees Kuroo’s face. “I don’t know, Kuroo. What do you want me to say? Why are you asking me?”
Kuroo lets him go, eyes strangely clear. “Because I don’t know the answer myself.”
Kenma, at a loss, huffs out. “Let’s just — let’s drop it for now. You have only been home in less than 24 hours and we both have a full day today. I’ll pick up your son and then - then, let’s - ”
Kuroo suddenly moves, cupping his face with both hands. “I don’t regret it. Let’s just clear that out, alright. I don’t regret sleeping with you last night. Or all the previous ones.”
Kenma tries to even out his breathing. Kuroo, his sweet, sweet, sweet Kuroo, genuine to a fault Kuroo, possibly - and oh isn’t that incredibly dumb of him - the love of Kenma’s life, is once again breaking his heart into tiny irreparable pieces.
“See, kitten, this is the part where you say you don’t regret it either.” His hands are still cupping his face, thumbs stroking the apple of his cheeks.
Kenma feels a familiar, hollow, numbing pain. The pain creeps on him often, but it still surprises him how cold his fingers can get.
Kenma pushes Kuroo’s hands off him, stepping back. “In the rare times that I manage to make a bad investment, as a rule I don’t dwell on it. I don’t regret it. I treat it as a learning experience and then I move on. That is just how I am as a person. But it doesn’t mean I’ll gladly bet on the same thing again.” Kenma feels oddly calm, centered, and fights to keep the shake of his voice at bay.
Kuroo doesn’t break his eye contact, lips thin.
“I’ll go get your lunch,” Kenma says before fleeing. Escape route once again. And again.
—
Contrary to urban legends, Kenma is not a hermit. He shows up to their office at least twice a week to attend some war room sessions, pick up some PR kits, or to personally check on things. He sits on the board for six different corporations - four of which he founded, two in which he is a major stockholder. And all four corporations and his personal Kodzuken brand have Chiba as a homebase.
His holding company holds a long lease for a five story building 15 minutes away from his house. It’s not the trendiest-looking office in the world but they have god-tier coffee machines, a whopping 140 sqm game room, and he was able to convert half of the second floor into a venue for gaming events and hackathons. But most importantly, it was halfway between Keiji’s school and Kuroo’s childhood home.
He typically streams thrice a week - four if there’s a game he’s excited about or he’s bored. For the past two months, to his followers’ delight, he has been streaming five times a week. Kenma tries not to dwell on that much.
It’s quarter to eleven when he pulls up to his basement parking slot. Kenma loathes driving but he loathes taking public transportation more. This is where Jun finds him - mumbling to himself as he locks his secondhand Subaru. The “Baby on Board” sticker at the back is fading; an obnoxious Red Falcon logo smacked right next to it.
“Can you believe that call with Chiaki’s team earlier? I have no idea how that got approval in the first place.” Jun greets, handing him his favourite bubble tea from across the street.
“You are not my EA. You don’t have to do this.” Kenma still takes the cup, sipping as they walk into the elevator.
“Oh but you see, I have an ulterior motive,” Jun says cheekily. “I am trying to get laid this weekend, you see.”
Kenma gives the CCTV at the right corner of the elevator a quick look. “Oh but you see, if you were my actual EA, you would know that I have plans this weekend.” Kenma pauses. Jun is still smiling at him, completely missing the point.
Kenma exhales. “Kuro is back, Jun.” he says as the elevator opens.
Jun doesn’t stop smiling, his steps falling right next to him. “That means you are back to three streams a week.”
Kenma doesn’t get a chance to dignify that dig to him as his real EA comes to him with a frown, pushing a rolling tray.
“Kozume-san,” Nobu greets him. “We got the prototypes for the limited edition covers.”
Kenma hums as he lazily sorts through the various cut-out boards, binders, and laminated images in the middle of the hallway. “And what exactly do they expect me to do?”
Nobu shuffles his feet, shooting Jun a glance, looking a beat away from a nervous breakdown.
Kenma rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine. Help me load all of these in the car later. I’ll look at it tonight.” He turns to Jun. “You need to hire Yukino’s replacement ASAP. You, Genji and I do not have a single creative bone in our bodies. Michiko is color-blind for fuck’s sake.”
Jun laughs, steering him away from a visibly-relieved Nobu, “If I may remind you, I minor in design. A whopping 12 units of art theories, branding, and other useless creative bullshit.”
Kenma looks at him, disgusted. “That doesn’t mean anything, asshole. I have been to your place. You have an incredibly bad taste in things.”
Jun drapes a hand on his shoulder. “Debatable. However, my taste in men? Exquisite.”
Kenma is about to pour the remaining milk tea on his shirt when Michiko elbows the both of them out of the way.
“Jesus,” She huffs out, hair all over the place, “Stop flirting. It’s not even noon.”
“Stop being homophobic,” Jun calls after her. “It’s not even noon.” Several people from the bullpen startle, whipping their heads towards them.
Michiko flips him off without glancing back.
“I’m getting a headache,” Kenma mumbles. It’s not even noon.
“Well,” Jun still has his arm on his shoulder. “I’d offer a 100% platonic blowjob to help you destress but if we are even 10 seconds late to the meeting, Michiko might actually slash my tires.” He pauses. “She still hasn’t forgiven us for hooking up in the 3rd floor conference room.”
Kenma pushes his arm off him. “She should have knocked.”
Jun winks at him. “Yeah, she should have.”
—
Maybe Kenma still believes in a higher being. The meeting ran only 20 minutes overtime. Michiko only threatened to castrate Genji twice. All things considered, it was a roaring success.
Kenma’s main concerns are if they are hitting their targets and the implementation of a new CRM across all entities so he zoned out by the second hour mark.
“Are you going home?” Jun asks as they all file out of the room.
Kenma types quickly on his phone, walking ahead. “I just need to pick up Keiji because Kuro still has some club activities and his dad will be leaving in -” he quickly glances at his watch “ - in like an hour. He’s going on a weekend mountain trip with some of his neighborhood friends. So yeah, I’ll just pick him up quickly and then come back here to sign that MSA for that pet client of Genji.”
Jun hums right next to him, “And the kid’s mom?”
Kenma continues typing, sending out detailed instructions to Nobu about the rescheduled meetings. “Keiji’s mom will pick him up next week as scheduled.” He glares at Jun. “Her name is Ayumi. You’ve already met her thrice. Stop acting like you don’t know her.”
Jun simply shrugs. “She’s just forgettable, I guess.”
Kenma feels fond all of a sudden despite himself. “Forgettable? She’s a model, Jun. Try again.” He goes back to his phone, switching to his channel to quickly look at this week’s numbers.
“Not my type, that’s all.” Jun catches his wrist as they round a corner to an empty hallway. “But listen, this weekend - ”
“I can’t.” Kenma whips his head around, making sure no one is around them. “We have Keiji for the weekend and Kuro hasn’t been home in two months. You know this, Jun. We talked about this.”
“Hey,” Jun lets go of his wrist but stands a bit closer. The combination of that undercut and industrial piercings with his preppy cardigan over his usual collared shirt is just plain unfair. “That’s fine.”
Kenma is having a hard time following.
“I was just hoping we can look over the final teaser for the winter comps on Sunday. The agency just sent me a message but that’s fine.” Jun smiles at him and Kenma feels like an asshole. “I’ll just send it to you and you can let us know what you think of it by Monday.”
“Jun, I already told you – ” Kenma feels his phone vibrating. Someone is calling him. He hit ignore without looking at it.
“Yes, you did.” Jun pauses, closing his eyes for a moment before smiling back at Kenma again. “And that’s your arrangement. I may not get it but I’m not in any position to say anything about you and Kuroo-san.”
“But you are judging me.” Kenma’s phone is vibrating again. He let the call go to his voicemail this time.
Jun laughs, quick and shallow. All too familiar. “Of course I am. Anyone can see your codependency issues miles ahead. But I’m no hypocrite. I’ve got my own shit to sort out. I just hate seeing you like this.”
Kenma grips his phone tighter, fingers cold.
“I’d punch you but we are in office premises.”
“And we are already on thin ice with all the 3rd floor conference room… shenanigans.”
Kenma rolls his eyes. “I was sucking you off. Don’t act like you weren’t begging for it.”
Jun’s smile falls, and he suddenly reaches for Kenma’s collar, pulling it down. “And were you begging for this hickey? Is this new?”
Kenma freezes, feeling his blood draining. “Fuck off, Jun.”
Jun stands back, staring at him, teasing all gone. “Kenma, I know what I am doing with this, with us . But do you know what you and Kuroo-san are doing?”
Kenma is about to reply but his phone is vibrating again. In an attempt to diffuse the situation, he finally looks at it. It’s Kuro.
He quickly ignores it, sending a template response. Sorry, I can’t talk right now.
The reply comes quickly. Don’t overreact. Let’s talk tonight.
Before he can process Kuroo’s message, dozens of notifications come quickly. Yaku has sent him three messages of varying panic and urgency, Tora two memes already. Even Shouyou who is in China for some training has tried to ring him.
That’s when he finally sees couple of new Google alerts for Kuroo Tetsurou. A panic suddenly comes rushing to him, only to be comforted with the fact that Kuroo was just ringing him not even a minute ago. So he’s most likely not dying in some ditch. But Kuroo once sprained his ankle during training and had the nerve to send a snapchat to Kenma so really Kenma can never be too sure.
“Is everything alright?” Jun asks, and Kenma blinks at him, almost forgetting he was still there right next to him.
“I am not sure — ” He says as he goes through his Google alerts. That’s when the headline finally hits him.
Red Falcon’s Kuroo Tetsurou rumored to be in talks with an undisclosed European team for a transfer next season.