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Kuroo just wants to walk his cat. It’s good exercise, good mental stimulation, and good bonding time. All he wants is to be alone with his cat and the beautiful spring day outside. So, of course, he can’t get it.
“Oh, how precious!” a woman says, walking up to the two of them. “I didn’t know you could walk a cat! And look, she’s all dressed up!”
“Thank you,” Kuroo says begrudgingly. “She knows how cute she is, too.”
“Can I pet her?” the woman asks. She looks at the cat and then at Kuroo. “You two match . That’s the most adorable thing I’ve seen all day.”
“Thank you. Be my guest," he says, motioning at his cat.
“What’s her name?” the woman asks as she bends to scratch her on the chin.
“Miki,” Kuroo says.
He doesn’t want any of this interaction, but he doesn’t want to be rude either, and he’s figured out that walking a cat on a leash is a surefire way to attract attention, no matter how old that attention gets. So he deals with it.
The woman eventually stands, thanks him, and keeps walking. Kuroo gives a quiet sigh and keeps walking Miki, who stops every so often to sniff at a plant or chatter at a bird. She’s a happy cat, and a good walker.
Kuroo is looking at Miki, who’s batting at a feather she found on the ground, when yet another person runs up to him, skidding abruptly to a stop next to Miki.
“Is the cat in a onesie?” the man asks.
“Uh, no?” Kuroo says. “That sounds like a disaster for a cat. It’s just her jersey.”
“She’s got a little kitty jersey?” the man says, bouncing on his toes, which are currently the only part of him that’s in Kuroo’s gaze. “Oh, and you’ve got a big human jersey! How--oh my gods.”
Kuroo looks up at the man and freezes. He’d know that face anywhere. “Bokuto Koutarou?” he blurts out.
“That’s my jersey,” Bokuto says.
“Listen, I can explain,” Kuroo says. “I’m not obsessed, I promise.”
“You don’t have to explain,” Bokuto says. “You seem cool. Your cat is definitely cool. I’m not freaked by it.”
“No, see, the first time we wore the jerseys together was the day I got it for her, kind of as a joke, because my friends always accused me of being more a cat than my cat herself.”
“I like cats,” Bokuto says.
Kuroo’s face turns bright red as he tries to parse what Bokuto is saying. Is that meant to be flirtatious? Or just a compliment for Miki?
No, it’s definitely for Miki. His favorite athlete is definitely not flirting with him.
Kuroo continues. “See, we wore them the day before one of your games, right? And you got a ridiculous number of service aces, and your game was on point.”
“So you figured that if you kept wearing them the day before a game, I’d keep playing good?” Bokuto asks.
“Well, now it sounds stupid and superstitious,” Kuroo says.
“It sounds cute,” Bokuto says, and grins. “Yeah, definitely cute. Tell you what. If I get you tickets for tomorrow’s game, will you come wearing my jersey?”
“Wait, why are you getting me tickets?” Kuroo asks. His brain hasn’t quite caught up with where Bokuto’s going, and his mouth seems to be on autopilot. He’s supposed to hang out with Yaku and Kai tomorrow, but he’s pretty sure they’ll forgive him if he’s spending time with Bokuto.
Bokuto’s smile turns into a frown. “I’m sorry. Maybe I didn’t read you right. I was hoping you were...interested? The eyeliner made me think you were, you know. One of us? Also usually my fans are queer. I’ll...I’ll go now. I’m sorry to bother you; please don’t stop liking me.”
“No. I’m very one of you.” Kuroo says. “All of the gay. I think somewhere I misunderstood something?”
Kuroo curses himself for the way that came out, but it wasn’t every day that his favorite volleyball player descended from the heavens and offered him what seems to be a date.
Bokuto’s trademark grin is back on his face. “I’m asking you out.”
He’s asking him out.
He’s asking him out.
“Yes,” Kuroo says. “Yes, absolutely. I would love to.”
Bokuto’s grin impossibly widens.
“Give me your phone,” he says.
Kuroo unlocks it and hands it to Bokuto, who flicks into contacts and types in his information. “Send me a text so I have your info?”
Kuroo looks at the contact, which simply says “Bo” with two hearts after it.
He texts him, “This is Kuroo Tetsurou. And the cat is Miki.”
“Kuroo,” Bokuto says, rolling it over in his mouth like he’s tasting it. He looks at his phone again and swears. “Shit. I was supposed to be running. Coach is going to kill me if I don’t get my miles in.”
“You should run!” Kuroo says. “You should train hard so you play well tomorrow.”
“Of course I’ll play good,” Bokuto says. “You and Miki are wearing my jersey.” He stretches up ever so slightly to kiss Kuroo on the cheek, and then runs off.
Kuroo can’t believe what just happened. He reaches up a hand to carefully touch his cheek, the place where Bokuto’s lips touched still burning.
He has a date with Bokuto Koutarou, subject of his fantasies since he first burst onto the national stage.
Miki is getting sushi tonight.