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It was the week Kenma hated the most during the year: Draw Week.
As a medical laboratory scientist, Kenma was most comfortable down in the basement of the busy Tokyo hospital he worked at. He enjoyed his job. Blood was a puzzle, full of answers waiting to be discovered. He could easily perch his slim figure onto a stool, sink his attention into a microscope slide of a blood smear, let his dyed balayage blonde hair that almost touched his shoulders fall around his face, and spend ages staring at the cells, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Distantly, he had some appreciation that his work was meaningful and could help contribute to a patient’s care.
But most importantly, aside from the other scientists, he often didn’t have to talk to anyone.
However, in order to maintain his position in the hospital and be completely proficient at his job in every aspect, Kenma had to know how to draw blood.
On actual people.
Who often didn’t like needles.
Who often told him of this fact.
Often quite loudly.
So Kenma had to spend a week out of the year upstairs at the Outpatient Lab drawing the required number of patients to be proficient.
Most hospitals didn’t require their laboratory scientists to do this, and it was the biggest complaint Kenma had with his job. He could certainly go elsewhere where he didn’t have to deal with this, but the rest of his job was pretty cush. He got fantastic benefits, good vacation time, great pay with yearly raises, and was only required to work two major holidays and ten weekends a year. Not bad at all. So, he figured he could put up with a week in the Outpatient Lab to continue enjoying his perks.
And today was finally his last day upstairs. It had been an exhausting week. He’d had to do several heel sticks for bilirubin testing for multiple newborns, and of course they were all to first time parents who practically bit his head off for daring to collect blood on their babies. Then there was the child whose parents said if he wasn’t good during his appointment the “vampire would make it hurt more.” Though he was a fairly easy-going guy, Kenma saw red at that statement. He hated being called “the vampire” simply because he drew blood, and using him to scare small children was just plain cruel.
Add to that the usual mix of curmudgeony senior citizens, tired moms with crying children, and the millennials wanting to live stream their blood draws- Kenma was worn out. He planned to spend his entire weekend off curled up in bed with a video game, a nice cup of tea, his cat, and not talk to anyone.
It was close to the end of the day (finally!), and Kenma was in the back part of the Outpatient Lab filling the centrifuge with tubes to be spun. He was definitely not hiding. The one bright part of this whole week was he had been able to work with another lab scientist in the same boat, checking off time in the Outpatient Lab before disappearing back down to the basement.
His friend and coworker, Akaashi, a handsome, lean man a few years out of graduate school, with shaggy black hair and bright green eyes, was doing the pleasant job of pouring off urine samples.
“Shit!” Akaashi exclaimed as he made the rookie mistake of grabbing the urine cup by its lid, causing the cup to heavily fall on the counter and splash yellow liquid everywhere. “I swear people can screw the lid back on a jar of peanut butter correctly, but are unable to do the exact same thing to a urine cup.”
Kenma handed him the container of bleach wipes and began to help wipe down the counter. “At least there’s still some in there and we won’t have to call the patient back in to recollect,” he said.
“Thank god. I do not want to make that phone call.”
“Better urine than blood.”
“Or spinal fluid.”
“Or bone marrow.”
“I can’t wait to be back downstairs next week,” Akaashi fervently said.
“God me too.”
“Hey guys!” Yukie, one of the regular perpetually perky and people-friendly Outpatient phlebotomists stuck her head around the corner. She had been dressed all week in some brightly patterned, bordering on garish, scrubs and would often good-naturedly tease Kenma and Akaashi for wearing only black scrubs. They kept telling her it matched their souls. “We have a two last minute additions, and let me tell you, they are some major eye candy!”
As she dashed away, Akaashi and Kenma looked at each other with raised brows. They were not just coworkers, but close friends, and each knew that the other was into men instead of women. Not that they had ever expressed any interest in dating each other. Kenma once pointed out it was because they were too similar.
“After the week we’ve had, I say we deserve some eye candy,” Akaashi said with a grin.
“We should probably point out that we are each short one draw before we can be signed off,” Kenma replied.
Akaashi’s grin grew wider and he headed to the front of the office, Kenma right behind him. Once they rounded the corner to reception, Akaashi came to a sudden stop, causing Kenma to bump into his back.
“What the hell?” Kenma asked a bit affronted. But Akaashi didn’t answer, instead staring at the two men who were finishing up the check-in process at the reception desk. “Oh,” Kenma said, taking them in.
They were clearly athletes and judging by their tight muscle shirts and baggy gym shorts they were probably on their way to work out. They each also had spectacular hairstyles. One guy was tall and lanky, but still had some impressive muscle definition. He had spiked black hair that vaguely reminded Kenma of a rooster’s feathers, and a grin that slid up one side of his face as he talked to the receptionist.
“Oh,” Kenma said again as guy stretched his arms above his head, highlighting the muscle definition in them.
“Damn,” Akaashi said, clearly eyeing Mr. Rooster Head’s friend. The other guy was tall, but still shorter than Rooster Head, and much, much more muscular, with broader shoulders and impressive thighs. He also had spiked hair, with frosted tips standing up and slightly out from the sides. He had his hands on his hips, head thrown back, and was laughing at whatever the blushing receptionist was saying.
“You two each need one more draw, right?” Yukie asked them with a wink.
“It’s a necessary requirement,” Kenma replied.
“Such a hardship,” Akaashi finally managed to speak.
“I’ll let you room them,” Yukie handed each of them a chart.
Kenma looked down at his. “Kuroo Tetsurou?” he called out, and his heart jumped into his throat when the lanky black-haired guy raised a hand.
“That’s me,” he said, that grin sliding up the side of his face again.
“Follow me to Room One please.” Kenma turned away, feeling Kuroo walking behind him.
“Bokuto Kotaro,” Kenma overheard Akaashi say. “We’ll be in Room Two.”
“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto exclaimed. “Today’s your lucky day! My veins are the best!”
“We’ll see.”
Kenma entered his room, gestured for Kuroo to take a seat in the draw chair, and closed the door behind him.
“So what’s your name?” Kuroo asked him.
“Kenma,” he quietly replied.
“Thanks for drawing my blood today, Kenma,” Kuroo said with another smile.
Kenma’s heart flipped at hearing Kuroo say his name. “It’s my job.”
“Yeah, well, I still appreciate it. If I have to get blood drawn I’m glad it’s by a cute phlebotomist like yourself.”
Kenma willed his cheeks not to blush and instead of replying to that looked down again at Kuroo’s chart. “You’re getting your testosterone tested?” he asked a bit skeptically.
Kuroo sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah…I know it’s stupid but Bokuto and I are in a contest to see which one of us is the more manly, and so far we’ve tied in everything else. So I said let’s have biology settle this and actually test our testosterone. Loser has to buy drinks for the other for a month.”
“What sort of contests have you been having?”
“Well we both play volleyball. So that’s what we’ve been doing so far. But if I beat him in blocking, he beats me at spikes. And if I can do better floor dives than he can, he can still jump higher than me. So we’re still too evenly matched to call a clear winner.”
Kenma nodded his understanding. “I’ll need you to roll your shirtsleeve up so I can see your arm.”
Kuroo was wearing a tight athletic shirt, and could only roll it up to the middle of his forearm. “I don’t suppose you can work with this?” he asked with a mixture of hope and teasing.
“No, the median cubital vein of the inner elbow really is the best place to draw blood.”
Kuroo smirked, and Kenma sternly told his heart calm at the sight. “Well then, sorry-not-sorry for doing this!” And with that statement he sat up in the draw chair and in one fluid motion pulled his shirt off, stretching out an impressive display of abdominal and pectoral muscles. “Guess this is the only way to go.” Kuroo unabashedly settled back in the draw chair and stretched his arm out for Kenma to use.
Kenma’s mouth was dry and he was sure his face was completely pink now. “I can work with this,” he managed to say.
He tried not to look at Kuroo as he got his supplies out and ready, and then put the tourniquet around Kuroo’s arm. He was definitely not looking at Kuroo as he ran the alcohol swab over Kuroo’s prominent vein.
“Hey before you stick me, I should probably tell you I’m prone to fainting.”
“What?” Kenma asked in surprise. “You must be joking.”
Kuroo grimaced. “Sorry, I’m really not. I don’t have any problem getting my blood drawn, I mean, otherwise I wouldn’t have suggested to Bokuto that we do this. But for some reason I can’t control my body and I have fainted before. If I do, don’t worry. Just give me a moment and I’ll come around, no problem.”
“Okay,” Kenma said slowly. “Well, don’t mind me and I’ll just distract you. Here’s the poke…” Kenma deftly slid the needle into Kuroo’s vein right before “poke” so that Kuroo wouldn’t automatically tense like some people did, and popped the tube into the other end. Kuroo gave a small, sharp inhale, but that was the only indication of discomfort he gave.
“So what position do you play in volleyball?” Kenma asked as the tube filled up.
“Middle blocker. Bokuto and I both played in high school and college and now play for a minor league team.”
“That’s pretty impressive,” Kenma replied, keeping an eye on the needle, but he could feel Kuroo’s eyes on him. “I actually played volleyball in high school.”
“No kidding! What position?”
“Setter.”
“I could see that. You’re pretty smart and observant. I bet you were good.”
Kenma knew he was blushing again. “How do you know I’m smart and observant?” he heard himself asking as he pulled the tourniquet off Kuroo’s arm and began to take the needle out and place a piece of gauze to stop the bit of blood welling up.
“You’d have to be smart to work in this place, and you’ve been not not looking at my chest,” Kuroo said as he held the gauze over his arm.
“You’re ridiculous,” Kenma muttered as he bandaged up Kuroo’s arm. “I have not.”
“Have too.”
“Have not.”
“Have…” Kuroo had on his now-signature grin, but then his eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, crap,” he muttered right before his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped into his chair.
Now Kenma’s heart raced into overdrive for a different reason. He quickly discarded the used needle, placed the tube of blood on the counter, and then worked to recline the draw chair back so that Kuroo’s feet were up above his head. He checked on Kuroo, who was still breathing and appeared otherwise fine.
Normally, there was a string that Kenma could pull to sound an alarm for help. He knew he was breaking protocol by not doing this, but figured that Kuroo had said he’d be ok. So with one last look at Kuroo to make sure he really was fine, Kenma darted out of the room and into the next, where Akaashi and Bokuto were.
Akaashi had finished drawing Bokuto and was now sitting on the swivel stool in front of Bokuto in the draw chair. Their knees were practically touching as they leaned forward to talk to the other. Even with his superior observational skills, Kenma was sure anyone would be able to tell that each man was interested in the other.
“Akaashi,” he said, causing Akaashi to jump away from Bokuto in surprise. “Can you come to my room for a sec? I need a hand.”
“Sure,” Akaashi said, standing up. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Bokuto.
“Don’t worry, Akaashi,” Bokuto said with a grin as he leaned back in the chair, putting his hands behind his head. “I won’t leave without giving you my number.”
Kenma ducked his head to let his hair fall forward and hide the grin on his face while Akaashi spluttered a reply.
“What’s up?” Akaashi asked as he closed the door behind them.
“Mine fainted,” Kenma stated.
“What?”
“Out cold. Can you get me some orange juice while I monitor him?”
“Sure, but dare I ask why you didn’t pull the alarm cord?”
“Dare I ask why you haven’t gotten the next patient?” Kenma countered.
“Touché. I’ll get you that juice.”
Kenma went back in his room to find that Kuroo was still unconscious.
“Kuroo?” Kenma asked, lighting shaking Kuroo’s shoulder and trying not to notice how firm his deltoids felt. Kuroo shifted a little in the chair and mumbled something about “Five more minutes, Mom.” Kenma figured he was fine.
“Here,” Akaashi said, opening the door to place a carton of orange juice on the counter before leaving without another word. Kenma figured the patient in the next room must be something to make Akaashi hurry back.
Kenma sat on the swivel stool and rolled it up to the side of the draw chair. He placed two fingers on Kuroo’s wrist, feeling the steady pulse underneath, while his eyes mindlessly drifted over Kuroo’s chest.
“Like what you see?” a husky voice asked, causing Kenma to jump.
Kenma looked up with wide eyes to see Kuroo was now wide awake, that grin sliding up his face as he looked upon Kenma.
“I hope you do, because the fact that I fainted cannot leave this room,” Kuroo continued.
“I suppose you could be considered aesthetically pleasing,” Kenma mumbled, ducking his head so his hair fell around his face. He stilled even further when he felt long fingers on the side of his face, gliding up to push his hair behind an ear.
“I consider you aesthetically pleasing.”
“You’re just trying to buy my silence that you fainted.”
“Am not!”
“Are too.”
“Am not! Here, I’ll prove it. I’ll leave you my number. Let me know if you’d ever like to grab a cup of coffee or something.”
“It’s not professional to date patients,” Kenma mumbled, completely positive his cheeks were bright pink.
Kuroo winked at him and began to put his tight muscle shirt back on. Kenma refused to ogle him anymore, and instead turned around to clean up his counter and make sure he’d remembered to put the label on Kuroo’s blood tube.
“You know,” Kuroo said as he finished pulling the hem of his shirt down over his torso. “As soon as I leave here, I’m not a patient anymore. You got a pen and paper?”
Kenma wordlessly handed a pad of paper and a pen to Kuroo. Kuroo scrawled a sequence of numbers on it, his name, and a cute winking cat face. He handed it to Kenma.
“You and that other phlebotomist should at least come see one of our games. I know Bokuto would love to show off for some cute guys in the crowd. We’ll leave tickets up front.”
“There’s no need…” Kenma started to say.
“Please don’t make me get my blood drawn every week just to talk to you.”
Kenma ducked his head again and handed the juice box to Kuroo. “We’d probably run out of orange juice if you did.”
“Cruel!” Kuroo said, clutching his heart.
“So I guess,” Kenma said slowly. “For the sake of our juice supply, I’ll see you at your next game.”
The smile that lit up Kuroo’s face was not flirtatious, but joyful and pure, as he got up to leave. He had his hand on the doorknob when he turned back to look at Kenma.
“We have a game tomorrow night. I hope you’re off.”
Kenma nodded an affirmative.
“Good. In that case, thank you for taking such good care of me today.” Kuroo leaned down to give Kenma a quick kiss on his cheek, winked at him, and then left Kenma to his stunned silence.
Kenma was still standing slightly stunned in the middle of the room when Akaashi walked in, closing the door behind him and leaning heavily against it. His face was bright red and his hair seemed to be a bit mussed.
“Is there a full moon? Or is Mercury in retrograde?” Akaashi asked. “Because this has been a crazy week.”
Kenma just nodded.
“And those last two…” Akaashi trailed off.
“Yeah.”
“I mean…”
“Yup.”
“So I guess we have dates tomorrow night.”
“We do.”
“And I guess it’s a good thing they put us up there a week a year.”
Kenma looked up at that, his lips scrunched up a little in distaste. “Still no.”
Akaashi laughed as he opened the door. “Come on, I think we need a drink after this week.”
They turned in their tubes of blood, gathered their belongings, and said goodbye to Yukie, who was beaming like the cat who ate the canary, and headed out of the hospital.
“They’re probably going to be a handful,” Kenma said as they walked through the parking lot.
Akaashi didn’t need Kenma to elaborate who he was talking about. “Probably.”
They walked a few steps further when Kenma cleared his throat and spoke again. “I suppose they’re considered aesthetically pleasing.”
Akaashi looked at him with raised brows. “Kenma, they’re the hottest guys I’ve ever seen.”
Kenma looked up at his friend with a small grin. “Oh I know. Mine kissed me.”
Kenma figured this would shock Akaashi, as this sort of behavior was definitely not allowed by the hospital. Instead, Kenma was immensely surprised when Akaashi colored and said “Mine too.”
“Really?”
Akaashi nodded, his green eyes sparkling. “Up against the door and everything.”
“Damn. Mine kissed me on the cheek.”
“Did yours give you his number too?”
Kenma nodded. “Should we see if they’re interested in drinks with us in a bit?”
“Absolutely.”
Kenma allowed his grin to widen as he got into his car. Once seated inside, he pulled out his phone and the paper from Kuroo and sent a quick text.
Kenma: Just got off my shift. Drinks in an hour?
He immediately got a response.
Kuroo: I’ll meet you any time, anywhere.
Kuroo: Sadly, I won’t be able to hear your soft, cute voice though. Your coworker must have just texted Bokuto because I’m pretty sure he blew out my eardrums yelling for joy.
Kenma chuckled as he sent a “see you soon” text to Kuroo before driving away.
All in all, it had probably been his best week in the Outpatient Lab in his entire career.