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pssst open this in a new tab to listen to this fic's selection/inspiration 'lullaby of birdland'
He should be going home right now, but Kuroo is dancing on a table that’s about to break surrounded by a horde of females and his band members and it’s probably going to give out under him in the next ten seconds.
Tsukishima tries to backtrack the best he can. It’s currently 2:30 AM, and Kuroo’s jazz band had already finished their performance for that Saturday night. It’s the end of his shift as always, but tonight was the night the band decided to settle down with some girls and order a drink.
Or two.
Or three.
Or seventeen.
And so here he is, standing in the dim light of a bar counter, barely able to breathe as he’s putting away cups into their correct cupboards.
Luckily, one of them is sober. A tall, chestnut-haired man who’s still getting through his second drink slowly is sitting at the counter in front of Tsukishima. He’s the pianist of the group and doesn’t stand out much, but Tsukishima still hasn’t actually talked to him before.
“Um.” The blonde awkwardly begins, wiping idly at the mouth of a glass and hoping his voice is audible over the clattering of dishes and the drunken cheering. “Do you think they’ll be alright?”
“Them? I don’t think you need to worry.” The pianist uses two fingers to loosen his navy-coloured tie and leans his cheek into his palm. “Before we started playing here, it would be strange for these guys not to get drunk after a show. But if falling off the table and hitting their heads brings them back to their senses, wouldn’t it be better to just leave them?”
Tsukishima blinks in surprise. That wasn’t what he was expecting. So not everyone in the band was wild and untamed.
“You’re Tsukishima Kei-san, right?” The stranger went on. When Tsukishima looked at him, the words “calm” and “indifferent” came to mind. “Kuroo-san talks a lot about you. You work here on weekends, if I remember correctly.”
“Ah… yes.” His brow furrows in confusion. Kuroo-san talks about him? When? Why? What kind of things does he say? He’s more worried about it than he wants to admit but shoves that feeling down.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Akaashi Keiji. I’m sorry that Kuroo-san causes you so much trouble all the time.” He sighs and bows his head down a little in remorse. “He can be extremely embarrassing, especially with Bokuto-san.”
“No, it’s fine.” Tsukishima’s honestly surprised at how polite this guy is for someone who hangs around Kuroo and that other owl-looking drummer- that Bokuto he was just talking about, most likely. “But getting sued for not preventing their future concussions isn’t in my best interests.”
“Yes, I agree on that.” Akaashi closes his eyes for a moment before standing up. “I’m terribly sorry to have to trouble you, but do you happen to live nearby, Tsukishima-san?”
At that he raises an eyebrow. “…Yes, I live in an apartment about ten minutes from here. Why do you ask?”
The dark-haired man sneaks a glance at his watch. “It’s likely that the night bus just left. Would you mind if I took Bokuto-san and Kuroo-san to your place for a few minutes to rest? I’ll ask Sawamura-san to pick us up from there afterwards.”
“Sawamura-san?”
“A friend of ours. He isn’t a part of the band, though.” He smiles lightly. “He’s been saving us from drunken bar nights since our high school years.”
“I see.” Tsukishima gives a sideways look to Kuroo, the number one cause of his irritation that’s currently yelling slurred obscenities into his microphone. It’s not even plugged in anymore and it seems to be confusing him greatly judging by the way he keeps tapping it on his knee and giggling. Well, if they’re only crashing at his place for a glass of water and some rest before getting picked up, it can’t be that bad. Akaashi has sort of put him on the spot, too, so it would be awkward to say no. Of course, being with the most Irritating Man Alive isn’t exactly his idea of fun, especially when he’s drunk, but what’s he going to remember the next day?
Plus, he might actually be getting a little used to this; this certain wild-haired singer whirlwinding into any situation unexpectedly and causing him trouble.
Kei shuffles a bit awkwardly in his breaking Converse and apron, tucking his fingers into his back pockets. “I understand. I’ll ask the manager for permission to leave.”
He retreated into the back room for a few seconds to receive the thumbs-up, and he slipped off his apron before returning back to the main floor. His head was starting to hurt from the heavy pounding of bass and the constant sound of mumbled conversations grating against his ears. The air in the bar is recycled and stale, too.
“Bokuto-san, please don’t try to push Kuroo-san off the table. We’re going to go home now.” When Tsukishima finally shoved his way through a bubble of women trying to reach for Kuroo, he found Akaashi pulling back the owl-haired guy by his arms and waist.
“Don’ try n’ stop me, Akaashi!” He splutters, face flushed and swinging his fists around like a malfunctioning windmill. “He’s got the table for so long, iz’ my turn now!”
“When we come here next week, there will be plenty more tables for you to dance on. Come on, Tsukishima-san is going to let us stay at his place for a while.” Though he’s calm, Akaashi sounds like a total babysitter and Tsukishima blinks at him in disbelief. Full of surprises, it seems.
“Haaaaaaaaaa! You lose this un’, Bokuto!” Kuroo laughs loudly like a maniac and waves his pointed finger in his direction. “Table’s mine!” Then he breaks out into another fit of hysterical giggling.
“Um.” He clears his throat. “…What should I do?” He’s never had to deal with bringing home someone drunk. Not even Akiteru was that tipsy the first time he had sake, and that time he had his parents to help him, too. Kuroo isn’t looking so good; his face is totally red, the front three buttons of his black dress shirt are popped open, and his tie is loosely hanging around his neck like it’s clinging to it for dear life. And he’s about to teeter right off the edge of the table from how he’s trying to surf on it. Overall not a very good situation.
“Oh, Tsukishima-san.” The pianist just noticed that Tsukishima had been there, and turns his head to him while trying to restrain Bokuto at the same time. “Can you please get Kuroo-san off the table? I’m worried he’s going to break it and we don’t have much in the way of spare funds.” Still holding the drummer under the arms, he starts to walk him out of the crowd. “Please stop crying into my ear, Bokuto-san, it’s obnoxious.”
Shit. Maybe it’s just because the space itself is packed and the temperature is higher, but he’s starting to sweat.
“Kuroo-san!” He calls up to his dancing figure, completely at a loss as to where to start. “Would you please get off the table now?”
“Ah,” The vocalist pauses his air guitar solo to look down at him and wave. “Heyyyyy, it’s Tsukki! Hey, Tsukki! You wanna join me?”
A vein pops out of his forehead and he has to rub his temples before he loses it. He should know better than to try to use logic on a drunken person, but Kuroo Tetsurou just so happens to be a master at being the embodiment of everything Tsukishima finds annoying.
“Come on, hurry and get off. You’re done for tonight!” Tsukishima grits his teeth and reaches up to grab his wrist-
And of course that’s when the table decides to completely succumb to gravity and clatter to the floor the second Kuroo tilts forward again.
When the world stops spinning, Kei groans loudly upon registering the new weight resting right on top of him. Kuroo ended up landing right on him, and he’s disgusted at the relief he feels that it doesn’t look like he’s hurt. The back of Tsukishima’s skull is throbbing from the impact it took to the floor and he’s having some trouble breathing, but otherwise he’s fine.
A string of giggles reaches his ears when Kuroo braces his hands on either side of the blonde’s head and smiles, still flushed. “That was fun!”
“Yes, yes, fine, now just get off me already-” He coughs and struggles to pull the vocalist back up to his feet, imitating the position Akaashi had taken just a few minutes ago.
“Tsukki, where’re we going?” Kuroo mumbles into his ear, head lolling back and forth as he drags his feet along the floor.
“Just shut up and walk, you drunken cat.” He grumbles back, not quite liking the smell of alcohol and the spicy cologne the man next to him was giving off. Again, here he is troubling himself for this guy’s sake. He always thought he hated troublesome things, and yet Kuroo might just be that word in the form of a human being.
Tsukishima has to kick open the front door and shivers lightly at the cold air suddenly surrounding him, but it’s fresh and he can actually breathe again. When he looks down the sidewalk, Akaashi is waiting for him under a street lamp with Bokuto around his shoulder.
“Ah, Tsukishima-san. Which way do you live?” He asks as the bartender carefully makes his way over.
“Oh. Follow me.” He’s grateful that it doesn’t seem like he’ll have to talk much, and Kuroo’s half-asleep anyway. Bokuto is sleep-talking but still functioning. The two of them start their walk down the street.
“Again, I really am sorry to have to trouble you.” Akaashi apologizes once more, bowing his head down a little. “And this is on Kuroo-san’s behalf, too. I know he’s taken quite the liking to you, so he must have bothered you mercilessly, hasn’t he?”
He takes a second to think about that. When he looks back, ‘bothering him’ is probably the best word to describe his antics over the past few weeks. “That’s an accurate description.” He replies and awkwardly looks to the side away from Akaashi. “But… why me? If he wanted to bother someone, he could have chosen anyone else.”
Akaashi unexpectedly gives him a light smile, just a gentle uprising of the lips. “Who knows? You’ll have to ask him when he’s not horribly intoxicated.” He closes his eyes briefly. “If I had to say, Kuroo-san has a thing for those who play hard to get.”
“H-Hard to-” Tsukishima nearly splutters out the words before he can compose himself and points a glare at the road in front of him. “I’m doing no such thing. It’s as you said. Kuroo-san refuses to stop bothering me.”
“Do you want to change that?”
“He won’t stop signing up your band to play at the bar I work at. There isn’t much I can do.”
“Then it may have been love at first sight that hit Kuroo-san.”
Tsukishima nearly stops walking and breathing simultaneously.
After exactly three seconds, he snaps back with irritably darkened cheeks, “P-Please don’t joke around like that, there’s no way that’s possible.”
Akaashi seems somewhat satisfied with his reaction, though it doesn’t show visibly on his face, simply through a tilt of the head. “You can’t know that for sure.”
Tsukishima stares down at his shoes as he continues to pull Kuroo along. A strange heat is still clawing up his neck. “I don’t believe in that sort of thing.”
Akaashi smiles again, shifting slightly when Bokuto starts groaning again. “I see. But he’s a strange one. He’ll have you believing in things that you didn’t know existed.”
“Like what?”
“Like how joining the jazz band would be a good thing.”
And they leave it at that.
Both Akaashi and Tsukishima are sweating when they finally make it back to his apartment. The walk itself wasn’t long, but felt more like twenty hours than fifteen minutes.
“Pardon the intrusion.” Akaashi politely calls as he slips off his shoes and steps inside. “Tsukishima-san, I’m going to put Bokuto-san on the couch, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Yes, sure. Sorry for the mess.” Even Tsukishima has to admit it’s a bit embarrassing for someone else to be coming inside his small little apartment when he hasn’t cleaned up in a week. It probably smells like coffee to anyone who doesn’t live here regularly.
“Don’t be.” The pianist says as he carefully turns Bokuto on his side. “You haven’t seen Bokuto-san’s house during spring cleaning, so this is really nothing.” Almost as if he heard what he said, the drummer grumbles something under his breath and waves his arm before resuming his snoring again.
Kei’s entire body feels fifty pounds heavier even after he lays Kuroo down on his bed, scowling a little because he’ll definitely have to wash the sheets after tonight.
“You bastardssssss!” He slurs as he rubs at his eyes, and Tsukishima sighs. He’ll have to turn him over too just in case he vomits but he’s still drawling on. “If ya wanna drink, drink by your own damn selves, you… bastard…”
He turns him over and Kuroo immediately stops his mumbling.
“Akaashi-san, have you called Sawamura-san yet?” Tsukishima pokes back out of his bedroom to see Akaashi with his cell phone in his hand and a glass of water on his coffee table.
“Yes, I just did. I’m sorry for rummaging around your cabinets; I just wanted to get Bokuto-san some water.”
“No, it’s fine.”
Akaashi sets down his phone and helps Bokuto sit up, still groggy and mumbling to himself as the pianist lifts the glass to his lips. “Bokuto-san, please open your mouth, I have water for you.” Though his eyes were still fluttering as he drank, he still managed to down the whole thing before falling back asleep again.
Tsukishima suddenly felt awkward and looks away. He’s almost like a mother, taking care of him and somehow just knowing the best thing to do in situations like these. The complete opposite of himself. “…You seem used to this.”
“No, I wouldn’t go that far. My alcohol tolerance is higher, that’s all.” Akaashi says without skipping a beat. “After all, someone has to take care of them when they’re too drunk to even bat an eyelash.” A somewhat wry smile finds his lips. “Maybe it’s true that I dote on them, especially Bokuto-san, far too much than I should.”
He couldn’t help it. Talking to this guy was calming and even a little intriguing. Tsukishima didn’t mind being around him.
“Does everyone in the band rely on you like this?” He asks.
“If I had to say, I might be nominated for most reliable. But that doesn’t mean I don’t depend on the others, too.” Akaashi says. “They’ll never know that, of course.”
“It sounds like a pain, if you ask me.” Tsukishima was never sure how to deal with or understand the selfless types of people like him; the ones who put on acts to benefit everyone’s well-being despite having the softest hearts out of everyone they took care of.
“Rather than a pain, it’s more of a responsibility.” A quiet scoff leaves him. “Though it’s also true that maybe I’ve just gone soft and I’m a bit too fond of them to let them raise our damage bills any higher.”
“It could be.” Even after his more personal explanation, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around being the mother. What did he gain from this? But still. He didn’t dislike that, by any means.
“That could go for you, too, Tsukishima-san.”
“Excuse me?” He raises an eyebrow at that.
“You went out of your way to help three people who you barely even know, two of which are drunk and obnoxious. If you look at it subjectively, all you have to gain from this is my trust. And I’m sure that you have things you’d rather be doing than tending to these band members right now, don’t you?”
“T-That’s…” He honestly had no idea how to respond. He just didn’t want to say no because Akaashi had put him on the spot and he didn’t seem like anyone incredibly suspicious, plus they would all be gone in a few minutes anyway. But when he thought about it, there really was no ulterior motive or personal benefit that came with it.
Akaashi just gives him another tiny smile. “I see why Kuroo-san is interested in you.”
That nearly makes him flare up again, and just as he opens his mouth to object, there’s a knock on his door and both of them perk up.
“Akaashi? It’s Daichi!”
“Oh, he got my text.” Akaashi jogs over to the door and opens it with Tsukishima following behind. A man a bit shorter than he is and dark hair cropped close stands in his doorway in a hoodie and exasperated expression.
“I’m sorry to have to call you so late, Sawamura-san.” Akaashi bows before turning to the blonde. “Again, thank you very much for your hospitality. We’ll be taking Bokuto-san and Kuroo-san home for tonight.”
“Yeah, about that…” Sawamura-san; did he just say his first name was Daichi? He rubs the back of his neck and looks away sheepishly. “I’m really sorry, but there’s not enough room in my car.”
Akaashi frowns immediately and a bad feeling starts to grow in the pit of Tsukishima’s stomach. “What do you mean?”
“Well, because I’ve got five seats in mine, right? I don’t know if you forgot that Oikawa was on bass tonight, but he’s in there, and Suga’s sleeping in the front. So that leaves you and Bokuto.” It must be his imagination- his gentle-looking face darkens almost scarily as he says, “Though maybe if someone had called earlier, this wouldn’t have happened.”
A single bead of sweat rolls down Akaashi’s temple. “…I’m sorry.” Then he turns around with pleading eyes to Tsukishima. “Tsukishima-san, I know I can’t possibly afford to trouble you any further, but could you please keep Kuroo-san over for the night? We’ll come pick him up right away tomorrow, I promise.” Before he can even object, he goes on to say: “I share a flat with Bokuto-san, so I have to go home with him. I doubt he remembered to bring his keys.”
Just how much of a mother are you to him? He almost blurts out, but simply sighs and takes off his glasses briefly to rub at the bridge of his nose. Honestly, he should have been half-expecting this. Wherever he goes and whatever he does, somehow, just somehow he ends up getting trapped in a situation with the most Irritating Man Alive.
Daichi just laughs a bit, slapping Tsukishima on the shoulder with one hand and the other on his hip. “Sorry for all the trouble these idiots probably cause you. It’s okay though, Kuroo’s more of a sleeper when he’s drunk. If you just keep him on your couch he should be okay for the night.”
“Uh, no, that’s not the issue-”
“How much will it cost for a night?” Akaashi seriously asks, and Tsukishima nearly chokes on his own spit when he reaches for the chained wallet in his pocket. “I think around fifty should be enough, but-”
“N-No, no, never mind, fine!” He huffs and turns away, not wanting Akaashi to start telling him that he’s nicer than he looks. “I never agreed to be the host for that slovenly guy, but you don’t need to pay me, it’s fine. Just give me your phone number so I can message you. Please.” At this point he doesn’t even care enough to be concerned about the way that last word was tacked onto his sentence. It’s 3 AM and he can’t bother anymore. He’s too tired for this.
So they exchange numbers, Akaashi bows about ten times more, drags Bokuto off the couch, and leaves with Daichi down the hall. When the door closes Tsukishima nearly melts; that was not supposed to be such a pain.
But now he has an even bigger one to deal with right now.
Oh, lullaby of birdland
That's what I always hear
When you sigh
Never in my wordland could there be ways to reveal
in a phrase how I feel
“W-Water…” A voice that he’d really rather not hear right now croaks from his bedroom, and Tsukishima’s feet literally feel like they’ve been injected with liquid concrete as he moves to the kitchen to get a glass.
For some reason he remembers Akaashi’s words. Now is he the one going soft? He ponders it as the glass fills up in the sink and he brings it to the room.
He turns on the lamp on the bedside table to see Kuroo trying even further to unbutton his shirt, but his fingers are slipping and it looks difficult for him. “So hot…” He mumbles, rolling around a little and kicking his feet.
Tsukishima unwillingly tenses up.
No. No, what? What’s with this atmosphere? What’s with this situation?
A drunk, dark-haired jazz vocalist, rolling around on his bed with a flushed face, tousled hair, open dress shirt, a light sheen of sweat on his face and parted lips, all lit up by the dim light of a lamp.
It almost feels like he’s intruding on something. What did he just walk in on?
His lower lip is quivering. He bites down on it immediately.
“Water,” He almost coughs out, cursing how he stutters. “I brought water, Kuroo-san.” He tries to mimic Akaashi’s caretaking the best he can. He sets down the water on the bedside table and slips a hand on the small of his back to help him sit up, but Kuroo just kind of flops forward and groans a little.
“...Drink it carefully.” Tsukishima half-heartedly warns, since it’ll have little effect in his mental state. So he tips the glass up to his lips and watches him obediently guzzle it down, though there’s a trickle of it left dripping down his chin when he finishes.
“Mmm…” Kuroo drowsily picks at the fourth button of his black dress shirt, not seeming to mind the water on the corner of his lips. “Tsukki, I’m hot…”
Have you ever heard two turtle doves
Bill and coo, when they love?
That's the kind of magic music we make with our lips
When we kiss
His entire body is breaking into a cold sweat, every alarm in his cells ringing. What should he do? What is he supposed to do? He hasn’t watched enough chick flicks to know where to go from here.
He’s hot. His body temperature is obviously higher than normal.
So what is he supposed to do?
…Undress him?
The possibility hadn’t really come to mind until then, but his hand still wavers when it comes near the buttons of his shirt. His upper chest is exposed, and he can feel the body heat radiating off of him. A pathetic heat starts to pool into his cheeks.
The most he can do is take off his tie and fling it to the ground before forcing him to lie down and slapping a cold towel on his forehead. Then he flees to the bathroom connecting to his bedroom and locks himself in the shower for fifteen minutes.
He gnaws on the inside of his cheek for those fifteen minutes straight while staring at the drain. He shouldn’t have agreed to do this after all. He’s almost nineteen, he doesn’t know enough about this stuff.
He has to press his head into the tiled wall for a few seconds. This is bad. He’s flustered. Why is he flustered. Stop that right now.
Tsukishima quietly exits the bathroom in an XL shirt and boxer shorts, turning out the lights. He leans over to check on Kuroo. His position hasn’t changed that much; he’s just rolled over so the towel is on the mattress now. It looks like he managed to undo the last of the buttons on his shirt, because it’s splayed out across his abdomen and barely covering his shoulders.
Not knowing what else to do, he sighs and sits down next to him, making the mattress dip with the weight. It’s weird to have another person on his bed besides him.
And there's a weepy old willow
He really knows how to cry,
That's how I'd cry in my pillow
If you should tell me farewell and goodbye
The blonde reaches for the towel and uses it gently to wipe at the sweat gathering at his hairline and nose. Why is he doing this? He isn’t obliged to or anything. In fact, he doesn’t know much about him at all. He’s irritating and wild and he doesn’t get a single thing about him, and here he is tending to him like a failing mother hen with its foot cut off and stumbling about. It frustrates him how confused this single person, this cat-like guy makes him feel.
“I can see why Kuroo-san is interested in you.”
Just out of pure and simple curiosity, his hand rises to pet his wild black mane and it’s surprisingly softer than it looks. Messy, yes, but soft. Fluffy. A stark contrast to his actual personality and appearance.
But when he tangles his fingers in and sifts through it, he can swear he almost heard Kuroo purr at the touch, which makes him jerk and pull away.
A pair of glazed-over brown eyes slowly open, and he grins and giggles a little when he sees Tsukishima looking at him. “…Ah. It’s Tsukki…” He almost starts crawling towards him, sliding over on the bed to reach out and fasten his arms around the blonde’s waist like a snake.
“H-Hey, wait a second-!” He blurts out, feeling this sense of unease that had been sitting in his stomach start to boil and overflow at his touch. “K-Kuroo-san, let go of me-”
Even though they’re around the same height, Kuroo completely crushes him in terms of strength and then the next second he blinks he’s on his side with the vocalist’s arms around him. He’s being pulled into his chest and he can feel his breath on his ear-
“Are you serious…?” He sighs out, feeling that same stupid heat start to work its way up to his face again. Kuroo is completely nuzzling into his neck and tangling their legs together, and the feeling of his pants against Tsukishima’s bare legs is not exactly the most pleasant feeling.
“Tsukki,” He keeps mumbling into his ear, and his hair is tickling his neck. “Tsukki, Tsukki, Tsukki…”
“What is it?” He flatly asks, trying to squirm out of his grip.
“…Love you…”
His body completely freezes.
“I love you, Tsukki… I love you…” Kuroo’s legs are wrapped around him at this point, and he vaguely wonders if either his heart has exploded or his body just gave up already.
“No, you don’t. You’re just drunk.” He protests. Wait, how did his hand end up gripping Kuroo’s arm?
“Am not, how dare you…!” He murmurs half-angrily. “Yer so cool all the time n’ stuff… didn’t think I liked glasses before you…”
Cool? Well, he can’t see his face right now, so obviously that can’t be proven wrong just yet.
“Love you, Tsukki.” He giggles, and for some reason it’s more difficult than he thought to get absolutely furious at his actions.
“…You’re so annoying.” Tsukishima is glad that Kuroo Tetsurou can’t see the deep red settling on his nose and cheeks. He’s so incredibly warm that he might start sweating, too. If he listens he can feel a heartbeat against his back. Has he ever felt that before? The smell of alcohol and spicy cologne isn’t exactly soothing.
Still, somehow he taps his fingers to the beat of a lullaby and hums it gently until he ends up falling into a light sleep with this weird jazz vocalist’s arms around him.
Lullaby of birdland whisper low
Kiss me sweet, and we'll go
Flying high in birdland, high in the sky up above
All because we’re in love
“I thought I remembered waking up to an attractive guy.”
Tsukishima barely even blinks as he turns to face Kuroo standing in his doorway, hair even more wild than usual and his dress shirt still open. As he stands in the kitchen with a cup of black coffee, all he can do is sigh and try to control the irritation and fatigue that’s about to make his eyebrow start twitching.
“Good morning, Kuroo-san. Looks like you slept well.”
“Ha, hardly. One hell of a headache’s hitting me right now.” He groans and rubs his neck before stepping into the kitchen. “You got any Aspirin or something?”
“You can get it when Akaashi-san comes to pick you up. Would you hurry and fix your clothing? You still reek of alcohol.” Tsukishima grits out with a disgusted look.
Kuroo lets out a low whistle at the dark circles under his eyes. “You look exhausted.”
“Well, no shit.” He has to try hard not to hiss out his answer, but he’s honestly just too much. “Try falling asleep with a giant, obnoxious drunken man clinging onto you like a leech.”
“Aw, I’m sorry that I was such a pain in the ass to deal with, I really am. Here, I’ll kiss it better.”
“As if I would want that!” He snaps back and sidesteps the arm trying to reach his shoulder. “Haven’t you harassed me enough?”
“Not quite.” Kuroo grins and places a kiss right on his forehead.
Kei is the one to take out the Aspirin for himself as if it can cure stubborn blushes.
“Hey, make me a coffee too?” He’s pleased when the bartender doesn’t fight too much against the arm around his shoulder. “Lots of cream and sugar, I’ll need it for later.”
“Then I’ll make it as black as your soul.”
“Don’t be mean, Tsukki, my head hurts.” He chuckles and bumps the sides of their heads together when he still adds a spoon of sugar to it anyway.
“You’re the worst.”
“And you’re the best.”