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“Well, kitten, I hate to say it but I think we’re going to have to make camp here tonight.”
Kenma scowled at his travelling companion. Or rather, he slightly furrowed his brows and turned his lips down into a tiny half-frown. So, about as scowl-y as Kenma ever got.
“Ohoho, hey now, no need to get so cranky about it!” Kuroo laughed. He knocked his shoulder into Kenma’s, sporting his winningest of smiles so that his fangs gleamed in the honeyed light of the fast-setting sun. “You’ve been dragging your little feet along for miles, no wonder we haven’t made it to the next town.”
Kenma huffed, his breath a delicate cloud suspended in the frigid air. “Whatever.”
Kuroo tossed his head back and cackled. “Well, as long as we’re both in agreement!”
Not half an hour later Kuroo had a campfire blazing, a small tent pitched and carefully sheltered from the wind, and a light dinner unpacked. Kenma had spent the majority of the time perched on a fallen tree, pouting and shivering while he waited for the fire. He then parked himself as close as was physically possible to the crackling wood without cooking himself. Even so, his cheeks burned brightly from the heat and his fingers and toes felt fat and puffy from warming up so quickly after being almost entirely numb for the better part of the day.
“Hey, you’d better scoot back a little before I drag you away by the scruff,” Kuroo chided, tapping Kenma’s knee with the tip of his heavy travelling boot.
Kenma kept his hands hovering near the fire, but wiggled his hips ever so slightly to shift back. Kuroo was one of the only people he knew who would make good on a threat toward him and he wasn’t particularly in the mood to be manhandled.
Kuroo rolled his eyes, but seemed satisfied enough with Kenma’s added distance from the fire. He flopped onto the ground beside him with a grunt, holding out a half-loaf of bread topped with cured meats. “Eat up, Mr. Skin-and-Bones, I don’t want your brother thinking I starved you.”
Kenma wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I don’t want your dog food.”
Kuroo shrugged, pulling Kenma’s portion back toward himself. “Suit yourself!” He leaned back against the fallen tree behind them, making a show of settling in to get comfortable. “I guess I can manage this and your mother’s apple pastries if you’re not hungry, I wouldn't want any of it to go to waste.”
Kenma twisted to glare at Kuroo, affronted.
“Oh, didn’t you know your mom packed us treats for the road?” Kuroo wasn’t even trying to hide the laughter in his eyes. “I’m under strict orders not to share any if you don’t eat your meals, though. Can’t be helped.”
Kenma swallowed an irritated whine. He knew Kuroo wouldn’t dare break a promise to Lady Kozume. He glared at the bread in Kuroo’s hand for a few moments, then scoffed and held out his hand. Kuroo, wearing his most annoying self-satisfied smirk, gladly passed him the food.
The pair ate in silence for a while, taking some time to just relax and warm up beside the fire. Kuroo ate politely, but without hiding the fact that he was ravenous. Kenma might have felt very, very slightly guilty that they hadn’t made it to an inn where Kuroo could eat a proper hot meal. He wouldn’t dare mention it, however, choosing instead to keep quiet as he picked ever so slowly at the assorted meats and crusty bread.
Kuroo finished his food long before Kenma, dramatically patting his belly and smacking his lips. He closed his eyes for a moment as if to savor the lingering taste, then groaned in delight as he stretched long and slow. When his shoulders let out a particularly unnerving crunch, Kenma cast him a horrified glance.
“That’s gross,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly and turning his gaze back to his meal. He’d only eaten about half of it, and he was starting to feel full. He wanted a pastry desperately, but after walking so far and being so cold all day he was almost too exhausted to chew. How bothersome.
Kenma glowered at the food in front of him, gently lifting a morsel of smoked ham to inspect. He ignored Kuroo’s rustling beside him. Thus, he was caught off guard by the soft, familiar sounds of Kuroo picking his lute into tune.
“Any requests?” Kuroo asked, running his hands up and down the instrument to warm it.
Kenma simply frowned and continued chewing.
In lieu of a response from Kenma, Kuroo simply made a thoughtful noise before strumming away.
Kenma recognized the tune instantly.
It was one of his favorites, a song Kuroo liked to play on warm summer evenings. He always chose it after Kenma had had a particularly stressful day, either packed with challenging lessons or entertaining fellow nobles with his parents. The pair would sneak away to Kenma’s favorite garden on the Kozume estate, one littered with a few small fountains and innumerable fragrant blossoms. It was quiet and infrequently trafficked, visitors tending to prefer the more elaborate rose gardens on the hill overlooking the lake.
Kenma felt the tension of the day bleed out of him. Soothed by the familiar, bright melody, he found it easier to relax. Eating became less of a chore and the pleasant memories chased away the chill the fire hadn’t been able to reach.
Kenma peered out of the corner of his eye, surreptitiously watching through a curtain of hair as Kuroo plucked at the strings of his lute. He’d always been impressed at Kuroo’s incredible dexterity, pulling lovely sounds from his treasured instrument in spite of the size of his hands. Kenma knew it would take Kuroo almost no effort to crush the lute into an unrecognizable powder, his inhuman strength belied by his calm, easy going demeanor. He’d always been remarkably gentle, his father helping him learn how to direct and focus his energy. After all, it would be disastrous for someone like Kuroo to let his emotions run out of check.
When Kuroo started humming along to the melody, harmonizing and embellishing just the way Kenma liked, he started to feel a little guiltier. He’d been cantankerous all day, being difficult and taking out his frustrations on Kuroo, who’d done nothing wrong. He was just following orders; it wasn’t his fault that they’d had to leave home and travel all the way to the coast, on foot, in the middle of winter.
Kenma finished the last bite of his dinner, then closed his eyes so he could appreciate Kuroo’s music.
---
“But why do we have to leave now?” Kenma asked. He did his best to maintain his normal monotone, but his mother could hear the distress in his voice.
“It will be safer for you to go now. Few travel this time of year, so your chances of encountering danger are much lower.”
“Wouldn’t it be even safer to take a larger guard? And a carriage?”
Lady Kozume laughed, her voice airy and warm with affection as she reached out to cup her son’s cheek in her hand. “Kenma, dear, you’re a healthy young man. You spend so much time cooped up indoors, it will do you well to walk. Besides, with only two of you travelling light, you’ll draw far less attention.”
“Don’t you think one guard is too few? I’m not talented with a sword, Kuroo would have to defend us all on his own. That doesn’t seem fair. We should just stay home.”
Kenma’s mother clicked her tongue at him, now smoothing her thumb over his brow to soothe away the worry and tension he held there. “Now, now, Kenma, you know Kuroo is among the best and brightest in the guard. His father has trained him well. Besides,” she added, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, “You know very well that werewolves make the best guard dogs.”
Kenma puffed his lip out in a pout. There was no swaying his mother.
“Aren’t you excited?” She asked, tilting her head as she drew him close to sit beside her on her bed. She reached for her comb on the bedside table to smooth out his hair. Not one for participating in any activity that would muss his hair, she had no snarls or tangles to tease out. She just knew the repetitive motion soothed him, and his hair always gleamed like pressed satin after. “It’s been so long since you’ve seen your elder brother. You’ll have so much to catch up on!”
Kenma made a noncommittal noise. It wouldn’t do to ignore his mother, but he was too upset with the situation to respond politely.
His parents were sending him away to live with his brother in his manor on the coast. He was a successful merchant, commanding a large fleet to trade in fine goods. Some of the oldest and wealthiest families, even the royals in the capital city, dealt exclusively with Kenma’s brother to buy rare and fabulous items from faraway lands. Kenma’s parents wanted him to study under his brother’s tutelage, believing that Kenma’s quick mind and eye for detail would serve him well in the merchant trade.
Kenma was not so enthusiastic. His brother was kind and favored Kenma over their other siblings, but he was also loud and very social. They were polar opposites in many ways, and Kenma knew that he’d be subjected to meetings with numerous trading partners, crowded and noisy parties, and countless hours of studying with his brother’s colleagues. Just thinking about it exhausted Kenma, anxious nausea leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.
Lady Kozume’s hands stilled as she sensed her son’s mounting dread. She crooned and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. “Please try not to worry so much, darling,” she implored. “I’m sure you’ll find it isn’t quite so bad as you’re imagining. Besides, you’ll have Kuroo with you! I’m certain he’ll bring you plenty of comfort while you’re away.”
Kenma’s cheeks burned at his mother’s reassurance. He looked away quickly, but not before he caught sight of her knowing smile. Really, what was the point of crafting such a careful, bored facade if his mother was just going to read him like a book?
“I love you with all of my heart, Kenma,” she whispered, pulling him in for a warm hug. “I believe in you. Promise me you’ll do your best, and that you’ll take care of each other.”
Kenma relaxed into his mother’s comforting embrace, blinking back tears. She was small and smelled like cinnamon and vanilla… Like home. He didn’t want to let her down.
“I promise.”
---
Kuroo played until the sun was long gone beneath the horizon and the stars twinkled into view. The night was calm and clear and beautiful, but bitterly cold. Kenma remained as close as he could to the fire, even as it died down without Kuroo regularly feeding it any longer.
When Kuroo finally set his lute aside, the ensuing quiet was unsettling. However, the rustling and calling of nocturnal creatures soon filled the air. Miles away, wolves cried to the moon, hanging low and bright on the horizon. Kenma couldn’t stop a breathy chuckle when Kuroo looked off in the direction of the distant keening, imagining him throwing his head back to join in the howling.
“Enough of that, kitten,” Kuroo scolded. He wore an irritated expression, but he couldn’t hide the mirth in his eyes or his tone.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I may as well be sitting next to Bokuto with how loud you’re thinking.”
Kenma rolled his eyes, tucking his hands under his arms as the fire sputtered ever lower. Kuroo, perceptive as ever, noticed Kenma fighting back shivers.
“Well, c’mon then,” he said, slowly getting to his feet. He reached a hand out to Kenma, an offer to help him up. “Let’s get to bed.”
Kenma turned to look disdainfully at the small tent behind them. He gave Kuroo a pointed look. “That tent is meant for only one person.”
Kuroo crossed his arms when it became apparent Kenma wasn’t going to take his hand. He cocked out one of his hips, ready to play the part of a scolding mother. “As it turns out,” he said, “Though my strength may appear boundless, there is only so much I can carry on my own. A small tent is what we have, and I’m not sleeping outside.”
“...You smell like a dog.”
“I’ll do my best not to stink the place up.”
“It’s too cold. I want to stay by the fire.”
Kuroo huffed, shaking his head at Kenma’s stubborn streak. He didn’t look angry though, so Kenma stayed put.
“I’ll give you another pastry.”
Kenma was too slow to hide the look of excitement that passed over his face. Kuroo had him, and he knew it. He sighed, reaching out so Kuroo could pull him up. He swayed a little once he was on his feet, evidently more tired than he’d realized.
Kuroo handed Kenma a pastry and then ushered him toward the tent, promising to join him once he’d buried the fire and packed away all their things. Kenma trudged over to the entry flap, peering inside. In the dim light of the moon, he could just make out two bedrolls squeezed together. He sighed, but pulled off his boots and crawled inside. He burrowed under the blankets and scooted as close to one wall as he could, nibbling carefully at his treat to avoid getting crumbs everywhere.
Kuroo ducked in soon after, mindful not to step on Kenma despite having to stoop so low in the cramped quarters. He bade Kenma goodnight, then rolled onto his stomach and nestled his head between his arms, crossed in front of him to serve as a pillow.
Kenma finished his second dessert, then pulled his blankets tightly around his shoulders and closed his eyes. Kuroo was breathing evenly beside him, but he couldn’t be sure the larger man was asleep already. It wouldn’t surprise him though, Kuroo could fall asleep just about anywhere. It was rather impressive. Kenma hoped to fall asleep quickly as well.
He was cold.
Despite the pile of heavy blankets covering him, and wearing his warmest travelling attire, Kenma was freezing. He pulled the blankets over his head, hoping that trapping the heat of his breath would help.
It didn’t.
As the chill creeped into his bones and numbed his fingers and toes, Kenma began shivering. His breaths came in quick, quiet pants. He tried to stay quiet so as not to disturb Kuroo, curling in tightly on himself and hoping the cold would just put him to sleep.
When his teeth started chattering, Kuroo rolled onto his side to face Kenma.
“Are you cold?”
‘... What do you think.” Kenma’s tone was clipped. He was irritated and immensely uncomfortable. He wanted to be home, in his warm bedroom under his warm blankets on his warm bed by his warm fire.
“Would you like another blanket?”
Kenma furrowed his brows. “It won’t help. I’m too cold.”
Kuroo let out a sigh, clearly making an effort to sound put out. It didn’t quite work.
“Come here, then,” he said, opening his arms and lifting up his own blankets.
Kenma hesitated for a moment before crawling forward, dragging his covers with him and throwing them over Kuroo. He then slithered under Kuroo’s blankets and into his arms.
He was instantly warm. Kuroo was essentially a furnace, temperature naturally running far higher than Kenma’s. Kenma let out a deeply contented sigh, bordering on a purr.
Kuroo let out a tired chuckle. "Aw, is that what my kitten wanted all along?"
Kenma reached up to pinch Kuroo’s nose, drawing a quiet yelp from the larger man. He then twisted so his back was to Kuroo, wriggling back so he was flush to Kuroo’s chest.
“Mmm,” Kuroo hummed, wrapping one of his strong arms around Kenma’s waist to hold him close under the blankets, “Careful not to move around so much, you little temptress.”
“Shut up,” Kenma murmured, shoving his socked feet between Kuroo’s legs to warm his toes. He was blissfully cozy, the sudden warmth easing his aching muscles and quickly dragging him under.
As his eyes flickered shut, he felt Kuroo press a kiss to the back of his head. He gave him another gentle squeeze.
“Sleep tight, my kitten.”