Work Text:
Shouhei: kenma have you made a move yet?
Shouhei: you know you can’t wait forever what are you gonna do when kuroo-san gets desperate and settles down with some woman with long blonde hair and a penchant for gaming
Kenma blinks and closes his phone. Shouhei is a genius by all means. But some things, he thinks, Shouhei has no idea about, and one of those things is the very careful relationship he has with Kuroo.
Besides, Kuroo’s not going to get married any time soon -- right ? He doesn’t even have a girlfriend. The very idea is ludicrous.
Regardless, though, it still creates a small sting deep in Kenma’s chest. Shit. He pointedly ignores it, but the scenarios still race through his mind. Kuroo looking fondly into the eyes of a girl. Kuroo kissing a girl. Kuroo having children with some girl. Shit. He hits his head on the table, as though it’ll somehow make the thoughts vanish from his mind.
(It doesn’t.)
Instead, when he looks up, he finds Kuroo in front of him, his eyebrows knit together. “Are you… trying to give yourself brain damage?”
“No,” Kenma says, deciding it’s best to not try to explain. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Kuroo flashes a stupid smile. “I’m stealthy, you know. Like a panther.” He sets the bag he’s carrying down on the table in front of him. “I stopped by the grocery store on the way home. Got that apple pie you like from the bakery too, since it’s on the way.”
“You did?” Kenma stares up at him, then lunges for the bag. Sure enough, there’s a miniature apple pie placed precariously on top.
Kuroo swats his hands away, though. “Uh-uh, no. No pie until you eat dinner - and a healthy heaping of vegetables.”
Kenma scowls up at him, but Kuroo, he knows, is not to be deterred. “Why are you like this,” he mutters under his breath. Still, he moves away from the pie and shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets.
“I just want you to be healthy. Is that such a crime?” Kuroo says breezily. He’ll be a good dad one day, Kenma thinks, biting his lip. A good dad to the offspring of Shouhei’s imaginary Kuroo-wife, a woman with dyed blonde hair and a soft laugh who never has to be reminded to eat her damn vegetables.
Irrationally, Kenma hates her. She doesn’t even exist, and yet Kenma hates her. He doesn’t want Kuroo to be domestic like this with anyone else.
Love, he’s found, is an irrational thing.
“Stop scowling like that,” Kuroo chides him. “It’s just a serving of broccoli. I’m sure you’ll live.” He ruffles Kenma’s hair affectionately, like Kenma’s a pet or something, and Kenma bats his hand away.
Still, though, the heat from Kuroo’s hand lingers on his scalp.
Kenma wants to scream.
.
“Who are you texting?” Kenma blurts out during their nightly watch of some dumb reality show. He’s never been an impulsive person - well, when he’s not exhausted, that is - but something about Kuroo’s head being buried in his phone, probably talking to said imaginary blonde woman that’s going to bear Kuroo’s children, makes Kenma want to scream.
“It’s just a work thing,” Kuroo replies offhandedly.
“A work thing at 10 PM?” Kenma replies before he can stop himself.
“Oh, Kenma’s invested in my work life now?” Kuroo says, an annoying glint in his eyes as he looks up from his damn phone finally. “You’ve never had an interest before.”
Stupid Kuro. Kenma tightens his grip on his own phone and looks back down. “Never mind, then. You’re being annoying.”
“Hey, hey. I’m just messing with you,” Kuroo says, and he brushes his foot against Kenma’s, almost as though it’s intentional - a reassurance of some sort. He pulls it back quickly, though, so maybe it had been an accident. “It’s this girl from work - Hana. She was just wondering about the video I’m making for this week and my promotional strategy. Nothing that interesting to you, I’m sure.”
Hana. Red quickly floods into Kenma’s brain, and his tooth sinks into his lip. A name for the face that Kenma’s been picturing ever since Shouhei sent that stupid text. Kuroo Tetsurou and Kuroo Hana.
Kenma feels like he might be sick.
Kuroo sits up higher, giving Kenma a concerned look. “Are you okay? You look kinda queasy,” he says, because of course he notices. Of course.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Kenma lies, but the words come out kind of strangled and incoherent. Shit.
“Are you sure?” Kuroo says. He leans over, way too close, and puts a hand on Kenma’s forehead. “You feel a little warm,” he adds, and Kenma’s head goes into overdrive. From this close, he can smell Kuroo’s cologne, feel the warmth that constantly radiates from Kuroo’s body, as though he’s a human radiator. “Your cheeks are kind of pink too…” Kuroo finishes, not moving back one inch, and that’s when Kenma notices it.
To anyone else, it wouldn’t be noticeable. But Kenma’s spent twenty-three long years studying Kuroo. He knows what Kuroo looks like when he’s ecstatic, when he’s downcast, when he’s contemplative. One of Kuroo’s most common expressions, though, is the one he wears when he’s teasing and doesn’t want you to know it. He gets this tiny smirk and a glint in the corner in his eye. Kenma could recognize it anywhere.
Even right now, when his brain is about to malfunction. He’s teasing me , Kenma says, and then, shit, he knows, doesn’t he?
But if he does, he doesn’t seem to mind. Could he… does he… ?
All of this crosses Kenma’s mind in a matter of seconds. He decides, then, that the best strategical move is to give Kuroo a taste of his own medicine - a little spoonful of revenge. He moves slightly closer, nuzzling his head into Kuroo’s palm. “You’re right,” he lies smoothly. “I do feel kind of sick. Maybe you should take me to bed, hm?”
Kuroo’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head. Kenma chuckles to himself. “Uh, wha…”
Kenma’s mouth turns up, and he glances coyly up at Kuroo. “Maybe you’re sick too. You’re getting kind of red.”
“Shit,” Kuroo curses, and Kenma gives a soft laugh. “You’re such a little shit, Kozume Kenma.” But his voice is soft and lilting in a way Kenma’s never heard it before.
“Kuro,” he finds himself asking, “are you gonna marry Hana?”
“What the hell?” Kuroo says, his eyes widening exponentially. “No - what? No. Absolutely not. Why would I do that?”
“Shouhei said you might,” Kenma says. “If I didn’t make a move soon.”
“You talk to Fukunaga about me? Like that?” Kuroo laughs loudly, obnoxiously, and Kenma glares daggers at him. “Aww, Kenma-kun is so cu-”
Before Kuroo can finish that disgusting sentence, Kenma leans up and closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to Kuroo’s. For a moment, Kuroo’s completely still - as though he’s in shock - but then his hands come up to softly cradle Kenma’s cheeks. Kenma can feel his lips turn up into the kiss, and Kenma’s heart gives a soft flutter.
“How could I even think about marrying Hana,” Kuroo whispers, pulling back slightly, “when all I ever see is you?”
“Stop,” Kenma complains, his cheeks turning even redder. “You’re such a sap, Kuro.”
“Only for you,” Kuroo says, grinning his stupid smug smile, and Kenma digs one sharp elbow into his side.
Still, when Kuroo offers him his hand, he takes it, sliding his fingers carefully through Kuroo’s. With his other hand, he texts, dont worry. kuro’s stuck with me now, and a small smile finds its way onto his face.
Love is an irrational thing. But, still, sometimes - it just makes sense.