Work Text:
It’s the annual ‘Summer Watermelon Crushing Competition’ and Kuroo vows to not let Bokuto win it for the sixth time in a row. Not that he has anything against Bokuto winning said competition, he’s supported him these past few years, but the prize is too good to pass up and Kuroo, well, he wants it for himself.
The thing is though, he can’t fight this battle on his own. He’s no match for Bokuto’s prowess, he could admit as much. Therefore, he needs a champion.
He needs the perfect thighs to crush them all.
He’d been hopeful at the start, a month before the said competition, knows that he will definitely find what he’s looking for, but with only a week left, he’s nowhere near finding the elusive thighs that would be his champion.
He’s done everything to recruit them. Posters on bulletin boards across the city, pamphlets given to people as they pass by him or the other way around, he went as far as blasting it on his social media accounts to get the word out wherever it could reach, all with his email and contacts so they could send him photos of their thighs for him to consider.
Many people answered his call, despite the odds (and general weirdness of it). However, their thighs did not meet the standard he has. He's officially considered himself a thigh connoisseur, after receiving one too many pictures of other people’s thighs, and they’re not all that bad, but he knows what he's looking for, knows what he wants.
He’s not going to settle for some mediocre thighs, no sir.
He needs them sturdy. He needs them meaty. He needs them to be able to crush watermelons between them, but unfortunately, those perfect thighs remain out of reach.
Just as Kuroo’s about to throw in the towel and accept his impending defeat, his phone pings, signaling a text notification. Already prepared to be disappointed yet again, he opens the message from an unknown number with a heavy sigh, but disappointment is not at all what he felt.
His eyes widen because what he’s seeing is divine, behind him, he can hear the heavens singing a glorious hallelujah. Because there, on his screen, a picture of thighs captioned with ‘This what you’re looking for?’
And for the love of all that’s holy, it IS.
It’s the perfect pair of thighs. Tensed, toned, and tanned. It looks pillowy as it is powerful. It looks comfortable as it is formidable.
It’s the thighs that would crush them all.
THIS. This is Kuroo’s champion.
“I finally found you,” Kuroo whispers to the photo on his phone reverently, opposed to how he’s text-screaming at the person on the other end, demanding to know their name.
-----
Suga’s been frantically typing on his phone for some time now, expression wildly determined, and Daichi hesitates to put the cup of coffee he’s fetched in front of him. He’s not keen on adding to Suga’s apparent craziness. But still, as a good friend is wont to do, he hazards to ask.
“Are you okay?”
Suga doesn’t appear to hear him and didn’t deign him with a response. He’s half a mind to take Suga’s phone away, but he doesn’t want to risk losing a limb in the process, so he opts for a safer route.
“I hope you’re not battling another internet troll again. Nothing good comes out of it, you know that,” he says before sipping his own cup of coffee.
“Not a troll,” Suga says, then gives Daichi a look that spells very big and very bad (for Daichi, no doubt) trouble. It sends shivers down his spine in a very horrifying way.
“What are you doing?” Daichi asks, highly suspicious.
Much to his mounting distress, Suga ignores him for a few more minutes, until he unceremoniously slaps a hand on the table, rattling their cups, spilling some of his coffee and exclaims “YES!” in loud voice, shocking living daylights out of Daichi and the rest of the customers and staff inside the café.
He’s got this smug look on his face that speaks how much he’s proud of himself for whatever it is he has pulled off.
Despite the warning bells tolling in his head, Daichi asks. “Do I want to know?”
Suga hums. “Let’s just say that I’m doing someone a huge favor and at the same time, I get to share the gift of your magnificent thighs to all those who would properly appreciate it.” He smiles beatifically and Daichi can just hear the wails of the poor, imaginary souls’ echo around them.
Daichi blinks once, twice, then slowly puts down his coffee cup. “Whatever it is, leave me out of it.” Suga doesn’t say anything and only gives him a look that says ‘it’s cute the way you think have a choice’.
On hindsight, Daichi should have grabbed Suga’s phone then, when he had the chance.
-----
“So…let me repeat what you just said because you don’t seem to hear and understand how ridiculous it all sounds,” Daichi says, as calmly as he could despite the insistent throbbing and pulsing of the vein in his head. “You,” he pointedly looks at Kuroo Tetsurou, “want me to fight in the upcoming watermelon crushing contest?”
Kuroo, for his part, cannot keep the awe to himself. It’s Mr. Perfect Thighs in the flesh. The thighs are just there and by gods, it’s truly magnificent, he can’t take his eyes off it, and finds himself drawn.
“My extreme desire to punch you would slightly diminish if you could look me at the face when I’m talking to you,” the man, Sawamura Thigh…ugh, Daichi, threatens. And yeah, okay, Kuroo can do that. Sawamura’s easy to the eyes… more than easy. It’s a contest between his thighs and face and deep brown eyes that he just keeps getting lost at.
“WELL?!” Daichi bellows, having reached the end of his quickly thinning patience.
“YES! And win! With those,” he motions to the other’s thighs, “you would win.” Kuroo’s staked his pride, his life on this and he’s certain of it.
Daichi exhales with a huff. “What did you say the prize was again?”
“Year-round coupons redeemable on any branch of this big supermarket chain.” They’re not just for simple, everyday items too. Some of them are for premium meat and different fruits in season.
Kuroo’s recruitment stunt has already gained a sizeable following of bored people insane enough had been following to see him through the end of his mission. Daichi hadn’t known his thighs had been making rounds on social media, if it weren’t for one of his co-workers who showed it to him, unaware that he’s actually talking to the man who owned said thighs strangers on the internet are fawning over.
All this… for coupons.
Something that Kuroo apparently wants to win badly and something Suga struck a deal with him for.
Daichi turns to his soon-to-be-dead best friend. “And you…” he says, glaring at Suga. “You sold me… for coupons?”
Suga had the gall to scoff. “Well Mr. Firefighter, unlike you, I live off teacher’s salary. I need those coupons and you are going to win them for me!”
And because Daichi cares about his well-being and he doesn’t actually want to live the rest of his days with guilt of having an unhinged best friend, he joins and wins the whole thing, even though he knows there wouldn’t be any prize for him.
Few broken watermelons later, scattered in the sand of the beach where the competition was held, he’s sitting on a beach recliner, thighs sore, and wet and sticky. Unfortunately, not in a sexy way.
He shakes his head to banish the dirty thoughts. What he needs is to get clean so he can finally go home and rest. As if summoned by his thoughts, a big, wet towel is offered in front of him, held by big hands and thick fingers. He follows the line of muscular arms up to see Kuroo looking at him with a triumphant smile.
Daichi takes it wordlessly with a small smile, all the while cursing himself for always feeling giddy when around the kind and dorky, but muscular types. He really needs to stop getting ensnared by their kind.
He proceeds to wipe the juice off his thighs and legs, aware that Kuroo’s watching his every move diligently and yeah, it’s awkward, but the staring is getting to him and he can’t help the errant thought that he’d rather be wiping a different kind of sticky juice or maybe let Kuroo do it… and woah!
WOAH! Shut it, brain…you nasty.
“Hey, Sawamura,” Kuroo starts, “uhm, thank you. For doing this to help me.”
Daichi glances up at him then scoffs. “I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve thanked me already. And I keep telling you, it’s fine. I’m just glad that it’s all done and over with. And I’m telling you now, this is the first and only time I’ll do this.”
“I know, I know. But…I really want to repay you,” Kuroo mumbles then shoots him some sort of puppy eyes look that shouldn’t work well but does. This is another conversation they keep having. Daichi keeps telling him that he doesn’t need one, but Kuroo’s insistent.
He ends up treating Daichi on his favorite ramen restaurant. Once, as compensation for being his champion, and multiple times as dates.
And despite saying that that summer competition would be his first and only, Daichi ended up joining again the following year because the prize was too good to pass up. Who is he to say no to year-round supply of meat buns?