Work Text:
Kuroo Tetsurou is not a selfish person, except about his birthday.
Every year, without fail, Kenma wakes up on the first morning of November and steels himself for the weeks to come. Kuroo’s birthday is more than two weeks away, but he designates the whole month of November as a birthday celebration. Unluckily for Kenma, Kuroo Tetsurou’s diligence in preparation knows no rival—except perhaps Kenma himself.
“Good morning, Kuro,” Kenma yawns as he shuffles into the kitchen, too sunny at this too-early hour. Kuroo stands at the stove, disgustingly chipper. Over a decade of friendship and five years of dating and Kenma still hasn’t figured out how he’s such a morning person.
“Goooood morning, Kenma!” Kuroo purrs. As soon as Kenma settles at their kitchen table, Kuroo places a plate in front of him and drops a kiss on his cheek.
“It’s November,” Kenma says plainly, scrolling through his inbox. Nothing urgent enough that can’t wait until he’s at the office, so he sets the phone face down on the table to see Kuroo staring in mock surprise.
“Oya? You don’t say?”
They’ve done this song and dance every November for years. Kenma knows the answer—it’s been the same for five years—but still, he has to ask the question.
“Have you thought about what you want for your birthday this year?”
Kuroo’s eyes shine so brightly, Kenma thinks he might go blind.
“As a matter of fact, I have, pudding head!” Kuroo replies, practically vibrating as he occupies the seat opposite Kenma. “You wanna know what it is?”
“Please, do tell.” Kenma really tries to put some enthusiasm in his voice this time, but he and Kuroo both know how this routine goes. Even though Kenma fails miserably to emote, Kuroo pretends he emoted anyway.
“For my birthday this year, I humbly request—” Kuroo inhales deeply, pauses for dramatic effect, “—your hand in marriage, Kozume Kenma.”
Kenma watches with disinterest as Kuroo obnoxiously reaches across the table, groping for his hand. Kuroo’s height advantage would make it easy enough, but Kenma’s nimble, so he dodges quickly.
“I tell you every year, Kuro—”
“—It’s not happening, I know,” Kuroo finishes. “But this year is different, pudding head! I can feel it!” Kenma rolls his eyes, stuffs a piece of tamagoyaki in his mouth, and heads back to their bedroom. It’s mostly to hide his smile from his boyfriend, because this year, his birthday prediction is actually correct.
—
The first birthday Kuroo and Kenma spend together as a couple, Kuroo’s proposal is more of a promise than an actual proposal.
Kenma treats him to the most expensive meal he can afford, and halfway through the meal, Kuroo looks at him very seriously and says, “I’m going to marry you one day, Kozume Kenma.” Kenma covers his choking noise not so gracefully with a polite cough, and his cheeks burn red. He’s so taken aback he can only stare, wide-eyed.
—
The second birthday, Kenma is more prepared. He plans a picnic, packs food and drinks with the utmost care, scouts the perfect spot in the park near Kuroo’s apartment—shaded from too much sun, but not so shaded they’ll get cold in five minutes. What he doesn’t prepare for is the ridiculous candy ring Kuroo unveils from his pocket with a flourish.
“Kenma, light of my life, will you please do me the honor of becoming my husband?” A bright red candy jewel glistens in front of Kenma’s face; instead of letting Kuroo slip the ring onto his finger, Kenma cranes his neck forward, closes his teeth around the gem, and plucks it from Kuroo’s grip.
“It’s your birthday, Kuroo, you’re not supposed to get me presents,” Kenma deadpans, and Kuroo flops onto his back with a pained sigh.
“Kenma,” he whines, “why do you have to hurt my feelings on my birthday?” Kenma settles on the ground next to him, pulls the candy from his mouth with a quiet pop.
“We’ll get engaged, Kuro, just not on your birthday.”
Kuroo jostles Kenma’s head as he buries his own in the blonde’s shoulder.
“I’m holding you to that promise, Kozume Kenma,” Kuroo warns, his voice muffled against Kenma’s sweatshirt.
It wasn’t an explicit promise, Kenma thinks, more like an inevitability. He and Kuroo both know they’re together for life. Kenma doesn’t need a ring to prove it, but it’s a long-established fact—he would do just about anything for Kuroo Tetsurou.
—
The third failed proposal happens at a Black Jackals game; it is perhaps the most poorly executed plan Kuroo has ever come up with, and it’s the story Kenma will tell his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren, purely to embarrass Kuroo all over again.
In the break between the second and third sets, Kenma gets an email that makes him huff in frustration and sends his fingers flying across his screen. Kuroo watches him nervously out of the corner of his eye, eyes flicking between Kenma’s screen and the screen of the Jumbotron suspended over the court.
When the words appear on the screen, gasps echo throughout the arena; Kenma’s eyes stay fixed on his phone. Kuroo nudges him now, whispering fiercely to get his attention so he can just look up, dammit.
Kenma’s only reply is, “Not now, there’s a crisis,” without removing his gaze from his phone. He completely misses how Kuroo deflates as the words “Will you marry me, Kenma?” disappear from the screen and how Akaashi drops his face into his palms.
Ten minutes and about forty emails later, damage control is completed on Kenma’s work crisis and he finally tears his eyes from his phone. Kuroo tries to perk up, pretends everything is fine; he did have a backup plan for this very reason.
Kuroo waits very impatiently, his fingers tapping on his bouncing knees and gaze flicking between the court and the Jumbotron.
The Kiss Cam comes on during a time out, and Kuroo’s heart starts thudding so hard against his sternum he’s afraid it might explode. It almost stops when the Kiss Cam lands on Kenma and...Akaashi.
Kuroo’s heart jumps straight into his throat and his head whips over to Kenma. Akaashi and Kenma are wearing matching befuddled expressions, frozen in place. The only thing that stirs them all out of their common state of utter confusion is a wail from Bokuto down on the court.
“AKAASHI! Is this your way of telling me you want a divorce?” Bokuto flops dramatically onto the bench, and his coach rolls his eyes. He grabs Hinata’s cheeks, yelling I won’t rest until I have full custody, my son. Akaashi sighs, cups his hands around his mouth to call back a reply.
“Bokuto-san, we’re not even married yet, we can’t get a divorce. Also, you’re not Hinata’s dad.”
Bokuto’s shoulders sag in relief and he releases Hinata’s cheeks with a grin to blow Akaashi a kiss.
While Kenma watches the scene unfold with amusement, Kuroo scrubs his face with his hands and resists the urge to storm into the Jackals' front office and start yelling.
He tells Kenma the full story when they’re getting ready for bed that night, and Kenma laughs so hard he rolls off their bed. While Kuroo sulks, Kenma curls up into his side and presses a kiss to his jaw.
“Better luck next year, Kuro.”
—
For the fourth birthday, Kuroo demands they stay home for his birthday, which is more than fine with Kenma. Kuroo insists on cooking his own birthday dinner, which is also more than fine with Kenma; being in the kitchen all day to make a meal makes him sweaty.
Kuroo is a little too giddy throughout dinner, which Kenma placidly ignores. The reason for Kuroo’s giddiness comes out of the oven just after dinner in the form of an apple pie.
Kenma rolls his eyes, reminds Kuroo “it’s not my birthday,” and rolls his eyes again when he sees the meticulously cut out letters baked on top of the pie crust.
M A R R Y
M E ?
Kenma scrapes his eyes over the pie with disinterest, although Kuroo swears there’s a twinkle of amusement as his boyfriend starts plucking pie crust letters and popping them into his mouth.
For the second year in a row, Kuroo doesn’t get an answer.
—
This year, Kenma suggests they invite Bokuto and Akaashi to Kuroo’s birthday dinner; Kuroo accuses him of inviting them to prevent him from proposing for a fifth time. Kenma lets him believe it. He has a plan this year, and he’s planned it so thoroughly that he refuses to let Tetsu fuck it up.
The Jackals have a game on the 17th, so they make a reservation for the weekend prior to accommodate Bo’s schedule. Kou talks Kuroo’s ear off from the second he sets foot on the train platform; Keiji throws Kenma the usual apologetic look. Once they’re off the train and on the sidewalk to their destination, Akaashi wrangles Bo so they’re lagging a few steps behind Kuroo and Kenma. Phase two: complete.
Kenma casually interrupts Kuroo mid sentence. “Kuro, I wanted to give you your birthday present before we get to the restaurant.” Tetsu skids to a stop at a random storefront and stares down at Kenma.
“Like… right here?” Kuroo starts poking his head around his boyfriend’s shorter frame. “Where could you possibly be hiding my birthday present?”
In a moment of clarity, he straightens, looks at the store behind him (a sporting goods store, of all things), and points with a questioning look. Kenma shakes his head. Mildly disappointed, Kuroo stuffs his hands in his pockets. Kenma glances past Tetsu’s right arm. Bo and Keiji have also stopped walking; Keiji, bless him, has gotten Bokuto talking again as a distraction. Beyond them, Shoyou and Atsumu are already clutching each other; Sakusa rolls his eyes and gives Kenma a thumbs up, his phone held up. Kenma turns back to Kuroo, who’s still looking confused. He hesitates, suddenly a little shy.
“Kenma? Are you okay?” Kuroo’s confusion has turned to concern and he reaches for Kenma’s arm.
“Yeah, just… nervous.” He clears his throat, wills himself to speak the simple words he’s been rehearsing for days. In his pocket, his fingers shake a little, and he’s grateful they’re hidden where Kuroo can’t see.
“Why’re you so nervous? It’s just my birthday. We’ve had a million of ‘em at this point.” Thank God that someone as intelligent as Tetsu chooses this moment to be so very, very stupid.
“Because… I finally got you the gift you’ve been asking for.” Kuroo’s eyes shoot wide as Kenma pulls his hand out of his pocket. In his open palm sits a wrapped candy ring.
There’s a gasp behind them, and their eyes flick over to Bokuto, whose jaw is hanging open and whose arm is thrown across Akaashi’s chest. His eyes are glistening, and Akaashi is filming on his phone with the patience of a saint.
Kenma’s gaze slides back to Kuroo, who’s just staring down at the wrapper in Kenma’s hand. Kenma delicately unwraps the gaudy gem of sugar—bright red, just like the one Kuroo gave him three years ago—and holds it out to Kuroo by the plastic base.
“Happy birthday, Kuro; you can ask the question whenever you’re ready.” Now it’s Kuroo’s turn to let his jaw hang slack, eyes frozen on Kenma.
Shoyou, Atsumu, and Bokuto are all blubbering now; Shoyou and Atsumu were supposed to be keeping their presence a secret, but Kenma supposes there’s no harm in their cover being blown now.
Kuroo finally comes back to himself enough to take the ring pop from Kenma’s fingers. His eyes are a little misty when he finally speaks.
“I have a pretty good idea what you’re going to say this time, but,” Kuroo sinks one knee down to the pavement, and now even Kenma is starting to sniffle, “Kozume Kenma—light of my life—will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”
Kenma, just to be contrary, doesn’t say anything yet; he leans forward, holding eye contact with Kuroo, before he dips down to pluck the ring pop from Kuroo’s hand with his teeth. He takes one experimental lick—the playful anger on Kuroo’s face makes him think he won’t get away with any more—before he slides the cheap plastic onto his finger.
Bokuto openly sobs.
Kuroo lights up like the morning sun.
He gathers Kenma up in his arms, and barely gives his boyfriend—no, fiancé—time to adjust his hand so the sticky candy doesn’t muss either of their clothing. Their friends whoop when Kuroo kisses Kenma soundly on the mouth.
“Just to be clear, you will marry me, right?” Kuroo breathes against Kenma’s lips.
“Yes, Kuro, I will,” Kenma confirms, before pulling him back in for another kiss.
When the dust settles, Sakusa, Shoyou, and Atsumu come out of the shadows to offer congratulations. Bokuto is sobbing into Kuroo’s shoulder, wailing about how happy he is, when Kenma addresses Shoyou.
“Everything went okay with the stream, Shoyou? Twitch didn’t give you any problems?”
“Hold on—” Kuroo shoves Bo away, and Hinata squeaks as his teammate flies into him. “You had them stream the proposal?”
“Yes?” Kenma didn’t expect Kuroo to be upset, though it doesn’t seem entirely unfair, either; he’s even more surprised when he’s swept into another hug.
“Kozume Kenma, you ARE a goddamn romantic!” Kuroo yells, peppering kisses over Kenma’s cheeks. He buries his face in Kenma’s neck to mumble about how he doesn’t have an actual ring for him; Kenma soothes him with a promise they’ll go pick out rings together.
After some coaching from Kenma, Shoyou and Atsumu manage to end the Twitch stream, and Kenma is incredibly grateful he put his phone on Do Not Disturb—he refuses to check his Twitter mentions until tomorrow morning at the earliest.
Keiji coaxes a still-sniffling Kou into motion, spurring Kuroo and Kenma to start walking again and the small crowd that has collected around them begins to disperse. Kuroo throws a glance over his shoulder to see Shoyou, Atsumu, and Kiyoomi following behind like lost puppies. He raises a brow at Kenma, who returns his look with an all-knowing smile.
Kuroo figures out the meaning behind that smile when their larger-than-planned group steps up to the host stand at the restaurant. Kuroo puts on an apologetic smile and opens his mouth to speak when Kenma smoothly interrupts.
“Reservation for 7, under Kozume.”
Kuroo gawks when that all-knowing smile returns.
“You really had it all planned out, huh, kitten?” Kuroo says, awestruck. The only acknowledgement he gets is the bob of Kenma’s head as they follow the host to a large, secluded booth in the back of the restaurant.
They squeeze together in the booth—Kenma squeezed between Shoyou and Kuroo, Koutarou practically preening between Kuroo and Keiji. Atsumu wastes no time flagging down a waiter for champagne; when their glasses are all filled, he has to stop Shoyou from downing the glass in one slug before they even get a chance to toast. Atsumu motions to Keiji to make the toast, because Bokuto’s eyes are misty again.
“To Kuroo and Kenma,” Akaashi lifts his glass overhead, “And may I just say—fucking finally.”
“Hear, hear!” Shoyou agrees, and everyone clinks their glasses together before taking a sip.
Kuroo pulls Kenma’s left hand into his lap, where the ring pop still remains. He strokes his thumb over the back of Kenma’s hand reverently, like he can’t believe his wish is coming true.
“Happy birthday, Kuro,” Kenma says softly, with a shy smile.
“Best birthday ever,” Kuroo breathes, and kisses Kenma like his life depends on it.