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Kenma doesn’t usually let Kuroo mess around with his volleyball when they’re in his room. He says that Kuroo is too prone to getting distracted, and he doesn’t want him launching the ball at a wall or, even worse, the shelf that holds all his games. But today, Kuroo’s been tossing the ball up over and over again, and Kenma still hasn’t said anything about it.
That’s how Kuroo knows that Kenma knows that something is wrong.
“That was a good last practice, huh?” Kuroo breaches, still messing with the ball from his spot on the floor.
“I guess,” Kenma says. He’s sitting on his bed playing a game right now, and Kuroo knows he should probably wait until he isn’t so focused, but he’s been feeling antsy about this for a while.
“I’m sure the new middle schoolers next year will be really good.”
“Yeah.”
“Not as good as me, of course, but good enough that the team should do well.”
“Sure.”
“And good enough to give you plenty of practice while I’m at Nekoma.”
“Hm.”
Kuroo barely represses a groan. What on earth does that mean?
He’s talked to Kenma about this before. Or, more accurately, talked at Kenma, because Kenma never gives him a resolute answer about if he’ll continue volleyball once Kuroo graduates from their middle school. And Kuroo doesn’t want to pressure Kenma to keep playing if he doesn’t want to, but he also selfishly wants Kenma to play for his sake.
Kuroo catches the ball as it lands in his hands, and keeps it there.
“Kenma, you have to keep playing your last year here,” Kuroo stresses. Kenma looks at him sharply, and Kuroo can already hear him say ‘I don’t have to do anything’, so he adds, “It’s just, if you don’t, you might not make the team at Nekoma.”
Kenma is quiet for a while, which Kuroo figures is progress. At least now, Kenma’s actually considering what he’s saying.
Or, maybe he’s just ignoring him all together.
Before Kuroo can worry that Kenma isn’t taking in a word he’s saying, Kenma sighs heavily.
“Whatever, fine. I’ll keep up with it.”
Kuroo sits up immediately. “Really? I’m friends with Hirano-kun, so I’ll know if you actually go or not.”
“I just said I would,” Kenma snaps.
Kuroo blinks and realizes how tense Kenma actually is. His game is paused and his shoulders are almost touching his ears. Feeling guilty, Kuroo climbs up on the bed next to Kenma, and tries not to let it bother him too much when Kenma turns his head away from him.
“I’m sorry,” Kuroo says softly, nudging Kenma gently with his shoulder. “I just really don’t want this to be it. I don’t want this to be the last time we ever played volleyball together.”
Kuroo stares down at his knees, that melancholy feeling he’s been trying to avoid thinking about rising again. He knows it’s not that big a deal, he’s just going to high school. Kenma will still be next door, and they’ll still have after school and the weekends to see each other.
There will be bigger things to worry about in the future—Kuroo graduating high school a year before Kenma, for example. He could end up anywhere in the country, or world even, all while Kenma is still here. If they’re even still friends by the time Kuroo’s graduating. If Kenma still even wants to be his friend by then.
Kuroo grips the edge of his shirt tightly at the thought.
“It won’t be.”
Kuroo blinks rapidly, slowly coming back to himself. He looks over to Kenma, but Kenma’s already looking at him with a little furrow between his brow.
“Huh?”
Kenma rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t look annoyed. “Me and you, playing volleyball? This won’t be the last time we do it.” Kenma’s lips quirk up as he finishes speaking. It’s only for a second, but the action is enough for Kuroo to relax all over.
“Yeah?”
“Definitely.” Kenma’s gaze drifts, looking a bit lost in thought. “You’ll probably still be dragging me out to set for you when we’re like, 60.”
Kuroo’s eyes widen, and he watches as Kenma’s eyes do the same. Neither of them say anything, but Kenma’s expectation for them and their relationship lingers in the air around them.
Kuroo opens his mouth, and then hesitates.
“You know that means you’ll have to stay fit until you’re 60?”
Kenma looks surprised at the question, and then he smiles in relief and the moment passes.
“Nevermind, then,” he says, resuming his game. “I want to live indulgently when I’m old, so there’s no way I’ll be able to play.”
Kuroo laughs, but his instinct to lecture about good health soon has him saying, “But Kenma, it’s important to stay active even when you get older. My grandparents go on walks all the time, and they say…”
Kuroo keeps going, Kenma keeps humming in acknowledgement to show he’s listening, and Kuroo knows their friendship is going to be alright.
-
In another universe, though, the moment doesn’t pass.
Instead, Kuroo meets Kenma’s accidental act of vulnerability with an intentional one of his own.
“I’d like that,” he says shyly, feeling his face heat up but unable to take his eyes off Kenma. His heart is going a million miles a second in the best way, and Kuroo swears Kenma’s eyes light up at his words. He clarifies, “Being with you until I’m 60, I mean. Even longer, really.”
Kenma’s face reddens in turn, which makes the glare he gives him lose any and all impact. “Kuro, don’t say that, it’s embarrassing.”
Kuroo laughs, too giddy to even try holding the sound in. “You’re the one who said it first.”
The blush on Kenma’s face intensifies, and he turns away from Kuroo with a frown.
Kuroo pouts, wanting to needle Kenma some more but not wanting him to get even more withdrawn. His eyes drop to where Kenma’s hand is lying between them, gripping the comforter tightly.
Slowly, so Kenma knows what he’s doing and has all the time to brush him off, Kuroo reaches out to hold his hand. After a few seconds, Kenma shifts ever so slightly until their fingers are interlocked.
It still takes Kenma a few minutes to finally look Kuroo in the eyes, but it doesn’t matter. The smile on Kuroo’s face stays glued there for the rest of the day.
-
Kenma glances at the upper righthand corner of his handheld to check the time. It’s late, and he hopes Kuroo wraps up whatever he’s doing soon.
They’re the last two in the clubroom. Kuroo is still here because he’s an insane volleyball obsessed captain who is trying to find clips from past Nekoma games. Kenma is still here because Kuroo is still here.
It’s not like he minds very much since he has both his handheld and his phone. His handheld is probably going to be dead by the time they get back to Kenma’s house, but as long as he’s got something to distract himself with he’ll be fine.
It’s just unfortunate that today, his games aren’t distracting him as well as they usually do.
Kenma furrows his brows, and presses the buttons on his handheld a little harder. The monster in his game is destroyed with one last swipe from his knife, but the music signaling that he finished cleared the dungeon isn’t as satisfying as it usually is.
The door into the club room swings open, and Kenma looks up as Kuroo walks in. He saves his game, ready to stand up and follow Kuroo out. However, instead of calling for Kenma, Kuroo crosses the room and settles next to him on the floor.
Kenma pauses. Usually, Kuroo is more than ready to go once he finishes for the day. His bag is sitting there, all packed up, because Kuroo typically picks it up and goes. He’s dressed as if he’s about to leave, both parts of his track set on to protect from the cold, but he doesn’t really look like he’s planning on getting up anytime soon.
Kenma settles, resting his back against the wall again. He doesn’t say anything to Kuroo as he resumes his gaming, but he doesn’t play for long before Kuroo nudges at him.
“You want one?”
It takes everything in Kenma not to frown when he glances down, and sees the chocolate that Kuroo is offering him. Each chocolate is neatly made, but clearly homemade, and the box the chocolates sit in is red, like the color of their jerseys.
Kenma can just take one and not say anything. He can also not take one at all, and just keep playing his game. Hell, he can even get up and tell Kuroo that they need to get home.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he takes one of the chocolates, studies it, and says, “I heard you got confessed to today.”
Kenma isn’t sure what he’s expecting in response — maybe for Kuroo to tense, or blush, or show some level of surprise. But instead Kuroo just hums in acknowledgement, and Kenma feels his annoyance spike up.
“I also heard,” Kenma adds slowly, making sure his voice is devoid of any and all emotion, “That you said you’d think about it.”
This isn’t the first time some has confessed to Kuroo. Kenma knows how the world sees Kuroo. He’s tall, his shoulders are broad, he’s muscled from playing volleyball and he’s confident from being good at volleyball. There are lots of things about Kuroo that attract people.
So Kenma gets it.
What he doesn’t get is why Kuroo said he’ll think about it. Kuroo never says he’ll think about it. He always rejects whoever is confessing to him gently, citing the classic it’s not you, it’s me. He’ll list his studies, volleyball, home responsibilities, any number of things so that they don’t feel too bad. But he always makes it clear that it’s a rejection.
Kenma doesn’t say that Kuroo never says ‘I’ll think about it’. They both know it’s true.
Kuroo stretches one of his legs out in front of him, and turns to look at Kenma. He’s got a slight smirk on his face, the kind that frustrates Kenma to no end. It doesn’t help when he says, “You’ve been hearing a lot about me today.”
Kenma narrows his eyes.
Kuroo slumps a little, his tone a little off when he asks, “Am I just that popular or are you just that interested?”
“Don’t be dumb,” Kenma snaps, his hands squeezing tighter around his handheld. “I’m just—You’ve never mentioned wanting to date anyone before, is all.”
Kuroo chuckles humorlessly. “I didn’t know that was something we talked about.”
“Fine.” Kenma stands up, fed up with Kuroo and his non-answers. “If you don’t want to have an actual conversation about this, then whatever. I’ll fuck off.”
Kenma storms out of the club room, and he immediately regrets it when he steps outside. He groans, crouching onto the ground and hiding his face in his hands. Why did he have to have such an embarrassing outburst? Why did he keep pressing Kuroo?
He drops his hands, and instead trains his gaze on the concrete below his feet. More importantly, why isn’t Kuroo talking to him about this?
By the time Kuroo comes out of the clubroom, Kenma’s still crouching on the ground. He doesn’t say anything, just offers a hand to help Kenma up.
Kenma sighs in relief. It’s fine. They can just pretend like none of that ever happened.
Kuroo seems to be on the same track when he asks, “Didn’t you beat that game like a month ago?”
Kenma looks down, surprised that Kuroo noticed. “Yeah, but I didn’t know that I needed this one sidequest first to get a secret ending. It’s a little annoying, but I really like…”
They chat like that the whole way home, the same way they always do.
-
In another universe, Kuroo doesn’t let Kenma storm out of the club house. He sees Kenma’s frustration and annoyance and he takes a chance. Before Kenma can even finish his outburst, he stands up and catches Kenma by the wrist. Kenma cuts himself off in surprise, and Kuroo asks him, “Why are you so worked up about this anyway?”
Kenma studies Kuroo for five seconds, before yanking him by his jacket collar into a kiss.
In the universe riiight next to that one, Kenma kisses him after Kuroo asks if Kenma’s just that interested in him. Kuroo is so surprised that his provocation actually yielded positive results that he sits there, frozen, like an idiot, for five seconds. Once Kenma starts pulling away in hesitation, he manages to jump start his heart, brain, and soul, and kisses Kenma like he’s been dying to. Kenma tightens his grip on Kuroo’s jacket instead of his handheld.
In both universes, they’re eventually interrupted when Kenma’s mom calls in concern because it’s getting pretty late, are they on their way? Kuroo is forced to breathlessly come up with a lie on the spot about practice running late, and the team wanting free meat buns, and an elaborate plot line about a stray cat. Kenma hides his smile against Kuroos’ chest the entire time he’s on the phone.
Once they make it out of the club room, they chat the whole way home, just like in the main universe. The only real difference is the fact that they’re holding hands, too.
-
Kenma’s been watching Kuroo all night.
Well, he’s sort of always watching Kuroo. Even if just in his peripheries, he always keeps tabs on him. Kuroo has a bad habit of not sharing when he’s stressed or overworked, so Kenma in turn has taken on the habit of checking him when it seems like he’s hiding something.
Which brings him tonight.
They’re out to dinner with a mix of friends they’ve made while in college and friends from their days at Nekoma. It’s fortunate they all get along well, but Kenma genuinely thinks that as long as Kuroo is around to glue everyone together, he could make nudists and puritans get along.
So it’s a fun night, everyone is happily eating and drinking—except Kuroo is acting…off.
“Kuroo-san, I heard that everyone thinks you’ll be captain next year! Just like in high school!”
“Ah, maybe, but Inuoka aren’t you thinking about coaching a team at your middle school? Look who’s leading now!”
“I’m glad you’re able to hang out more, Kuroo, we’ll miss you when volleyball season comes back around.”
“If you were as wise as I am, you’d know to live in the present. Speaking of, you’ll never guess what my classmate did today in front of the entire lecture hall…”
“You know scouts are already looking for league players, would you be willing to leave Tokyo if you got a good offer?”
“The one who needs to worry about scouts is Lev. Alisa mentioned to her agent that she has a brother, and apparently they’ve been hounding the kid.”
All night, no matter who it’s coming from, Kuroo keeps deflecting any questions about himself—especially if it’s about volleyball. He’s subtle with it, and it’s not like Kuroo is the type to talk nonstop about himself anyway. But Kenma knows when Kuroo is just trying to be humble, and this isn’t it.
He seems more nervous than anything. The thing is Kuroo doesn’t really get nervous anymore, not since he was a kid, so it gets under Kenma’s skin to see Kuroo like that. Kenma taps his fingers against the table top and takes another sip of his beer.
By the time the night is over and they’re walking home, Kenma can feel the weight of his curiosity on his tongue. He wants to ask, prod, and figure out what’s going on in Kuroos’ head. He has his theories, but he can’t know for certain unless Kuroo tells him.
He hasn’t had much to drink, but it’s enough that by the time they make it back to their apartment, Kenma asks, “So what’s going on with you?”
They’ve barely even made it inside. Kuroo is staring at Kenma in surprise, still crouched over because he was slipping his shoes off. Kenma hasn’t even managed that. He’s just standing in their genkan with his coat, scarf, and shoes still on, staring resolutely at Kuroo.
Kuroo finally laughs, a little disbelievingly. “How long have you wanted to ask that?”
“Since we’ve been at dinner.”
“Figures,” Kuroo replies, but he sounds more fond than anything else. It makes Kenma’s shoulders relax to hear him so at ease, and he finally starts taking off his layers.
“So are you going to answer…” Kenma trails off as they both make their way into the apartment.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m just impressed you’ve known the whole time,” Kuroo says, collapsing noisily onto the couch. “I’m almost embarrassed I tried hiding it.”
Kenma wants to say ‘You should be’ but figures that would just derail the conversation. So instead he says, as he settles down next to Kuroo, “I don’t know exactly what's wrong though. So come on. Tell me.”
Kuroo is quiet for a while. Kenma doesn’t rush him though, just tucks his legs under him to get a bit more comfortable. Kuroo’s done the same for him countless times, waiting patiently for Kenma to get his thoughts and feelings together before he tries talking it out. It’s nothing for him to do the same for Kuroo.
“I think I’m quitting volleyball.”
Despite the fact that this is sort of what Kenma expected, the confession still hits Kenma like a spike to the face. Kuroo loves volleyball more than anything. He thought the only thing that could stop him from playing was a life altering injury.
Still, he doesn’t let his surprise show on his face. This isn’t about him.
“You think,” Kenma clarifies, because he knows Kuroo isn’t one for filler words.
Kuroo sighs heavily. “No. I know.”
Kenma nods, and leans against Kuroo, just so Kuroo knows he can lean back. He does, almost immediately, and Kenma can feel as the tension starts to drain away from him.
“Why?”
“I think…I think I’m meant to do something different.” Kuroo sighs again, except this time more heavily. “Which sounds like a fuck all reason to quit a sport I love. It’ s just when I think about playing volleyball for the rest of my life, it doesn’t sound bad. But it also feels lacking.”
Kenma hums, even if he doesn’t really understand. Kuroo’s third biggest personality trait is that he’s a volleyball brained idiot, right behind the fact that he’s an asshole and that he’s the best person Kenma knows. But he trusts Kuroo to know what he needs.
“It just sucks,” Kuroo continues, bringing his arms around Kenma to hold him close. “Volleyball has been such a big part of my life and now it’s just going to be gone.”
“Okay, now you’re being dramatic,” Kenma says, rolling his eyes. Kuroo squawks in offense, but Kenma just pulls back to look him in the eyes. “You can still play volleyball even if you’re not doing it professionally. Casually playing it is a thing, even if the concept seems outside your grasp.”
Kuroo opens his mouth to retort, but Kenma tugs gently on his sleeve to shut him up. He offers him a small smile, and adds, “Plus, I’ll still set to you whenever you want.”
Kuroo’s eyes go wide, and for a second Kenma’s worried he’s going to cry. Then the worst smirk he’s ever seen spreads across his face, and Kenma immediately regrets his words.
“Whenever?”
“No, nevermind, not whenever, I take it back,” Kenma immediately says, leaning away from Kuroo. Kuroo just cackles and follows after him.
“You already promised me til 60, Kenma, and now I get whenever?”
“Why would you bring that up?” Kenma’s trying to glare and frown at him, but the giddiness in Kuroo’s laugh is more infectious than the embarrassment from the memory. “You’re the worst person I know.”
“Am not.”
“Are to.”
“Am not.”
“Are to.”
“Am--”
“What are we, 15?” Kenma interrupts, his tone flat. Kuroo shifts his gaze away from Kenma, and Kenma picks at his cuticles. Then, at the same time:
“Am not!”
“Are to!”
They both dissolve into laughter, Kenma resting his forehead against Kuroo’s shoulder and Kuroo trying not to laugh loud enough that they get a complaint from their neighbors.
“How about I put on a movie?” Kenma says after they both settle down. “Something old, from when we were younger?”
“I can get us some snacks,” Kuroo offers, and they both sit up and smile at each other. They’re faces are both a little red, and it takes Kenma back to when they had first met each other—two shy boys who were barely able to make eye contact.
“Sounds good,” Kenma agrees. They end up falling asleep on the couch, one shared blanket spread across them. It’s a good night.
-
In another universe, their laughter brings their faces way too close. Well, that happens in this universe too, but in the other one they actually notice it.
The laughter stops, and the silence after should be deafening, except neither of them can hear anything but the pounding of their own hearts.
Kenma sways forward, and Kuroo reaches for his face at the same time, but neither one knows who kisses who. It’s like from one second to the next, they just were. It’s a gentle kiss, searching and hesitant, and both of them feel dizzy with want at the end of it.
They slowly pull away until their eyes can meet. They stare at each other for what could be seconds, minutes, or hours. However long, time is made unfrozen by the small smile that spreads across Kenma’s face. It’s barely there, but it startles a laugh out of Kuroo, a breathless one filled with joy. Then Kenma’s chuckling in response, and it isn’t long at all until they fall into another fit of laughter.
They rest their foreheads together as they laugh, their arms tangled as they cling to each other because they want to, because they can. It’s a good night in this universe, too.
-
When Kenma moves into his big, traditional house, Kuroo moves there with him. However, he is always quick to clarify that it’s a very platonic arrangement.
Eh, maybe ‘very’ is overkill. Or, okay really, maybe he wishes it was overkill.
All this to say, when people ask Kuroo if they’re dating after they find out they live in a house together, Kuroo grins through gritted teeth and tries to say, “Nope, just friends,” as cheerily as someone in his situation can.
Because that is all they are. Friends. Hell, Kenma even went on a date last week, so Kuroo really is kidding himself if he thinks anything about them is anything but platonic.
This isn't about him though. This is about Kenma, and the fact that he just reached 1 million subscribers.
That’s why they are throwing the party at Kenma’s place anyway.
“Doesn’t really make sense to call it Kenma’s place, though,” Daichi says before taking a big sip of his drink. “It’s really like both of your place.”
“Yeah, fine, that’s why we’re throwing a party at our place,” Kuroo says in a rush, ready to move the conversation in another direction. Saying ‘ours’ about anything that has to do with him and Kenma makes him blush in the most incriminating way.
“Your house,” Akaashi points out, and Kuroo resists the urge to pull at his hair.
“Our house, fine, don’t you want to talk about anything other than this old rental,” Kuroo stresses. “Something about kenma.”
“Kenma looks like he’s doing just fine,” Daichi points out, and he nods towards the living room.
Kuroo turns his head in the direction, as if he isn’t already fully aware of where Kenma is, and he can’t stop the smile that spreads on his face when he sees him. Kenma is seated on the arm of the couch, one knee pulled up to his chest as he tries to hide a smile behind a can of beer. Yamamoto is next to him, waving his arms around wildly as he tells a story, and Fukunaga is doing an incredible job mimicking all the gestures without Yamamoto noticing. It’s a pretty classic set up for the three of them, but Kenma just looks so content and at ease, and just so, so happy. It fills Kuroo’s chest with so much warmth that he feels in it his toes.
“That’s a very platonic look you’ve got on your face there, Kuroo,” Akaashi says drily, pulling Kuroo’s attention away. It takes Kuroo a second to actually register what he’s said, but he just rolls his eyes once he does.
“I’m smiling at him. Stop jumping to conclusions just because I like men.”
“None of us three are straight.”
“That’s not the point,” Kuroo says imperiously. They look at him expectantly, and Kuroo sighs dramatically. “The point is that we’re all here to celebrate Kenma, not talk about me and Kenma. Did either of you even congratulate him yet.”
“Yeah, of course I did,” Daichi says, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s insane he managed to get one million subscribers, I had to make sure to tell him so.”
Akaashi says something in agreement, but Kuroo drifts off a bit. It is crazy that Kenma hit a million subscribers, but it’s also not surprising at all. It’s Kenma. He can do anything, really. Probably could’ve been a pro volleyball player himself if he really wanted too.
He says as much to Kenma, much later, when the party's over. Most people have left, and the ones still there are passed out cold. He and Kenma are cleaning, except Kuroo isn’t letting Kenma help much since they threw the party for him. So Kenma’s sitting on the kitchen counter, weakly holding onto a trash bag as Kuroo flurries around collecting aluminum cans and glass bottles.
“No, I couldn’t have,” Kenma replies with a chuckle. “You’ve seen the setters who actually made it right? Kageyama, Atsumu, Oikawa…I could never do what they do.”
Kuroo opens his mouth in protest, but Kenma interrupts him with a gentle nudge with his foot. “And I wouldn’t want to. You know me. Putting that much work in for volleyball sounds exhausting.”
“I still say you could’ve done something ,” Kuroo insists, tossing a handful of cans in the trash bag and then taking a break to lean against the counter next to Kenma. “You’ve got too much talent for the sport.”
Kenma hums in consideration as he gently lowers the trash bag to the ground. “Maybe…a coach or something? Most coaches are former players though.”
“You are a former player!”
“Not a former professional player,” Kenma says pointedly. He doesn’t quite sound like he’s done speaking, so Kuroo turns to face him. It takes him a moment, but Kenma eventually adds, “I kind of actually expected you to end up coaching one day.”
“Me?” Kuroo asks, his eyes brows rising high on his face.
“It can’t be that surprising. You’re a natural leader and teacher, and you love volleyball.”
“Huh.” Kuroo never really thought about coaching much, but it’s not a bad idea. He loves what he’s doing now, but maybe later in life, when he’s done with the JVA… “We could be, like, joint coaches.”
“Hm, I think I’d be a better assistant coach,” Kenma muses, playing along with Kuroo. It makes Kuroo grin, and he turns so that he can face Kenma fully. “It’s less work, and I wouldn’t have to give any big speeches.”
“Ah, but then you’d have to deal with all my paperwork,”
“Who’d listen to you with hair like yours,” Kenma teases, reaching up to tug at Kuroo’s hair a bit. “They’d probably think you were some party animal.”
“Karasuno’s coach is blonde with piercings and they listen to him just fine,” Kuroo complains, but he’s not really upset at all because Kenma’s still idly playing with his hair and at this moment it really feels like it’s just the two of them in the world. “I’m sure future Nekoma players will be similar.”
“So we’re coaching Nekoma then.”
“I mean it only makes sense,” Kuroo says, nodding sagely. “Nekomata has got to retire eventually.”
“And Coach Naoi?”
“He’ll probably retire too, having to deal with us for three years definitely aged him.”
Kenma laughs, and it’s all the encouragement Kuroo needs to keep going. “We’ll be great, and we’ll make sure the team makes it to nationals every year.”
“And we’ll make sure that no one bleaches their hair unless they know what they’re doing,” Kenma says with a smirk.
“We’ll bleach their hair for them if it comes down to it,” Kuroo agrees, eyeing the edges of Kenma’s hair where some blonde still lingered. “And we’ll make sure none of the upperclassmen ever target any underclassmen.”
Kenma’s eyes soften. His hand finally drops from Kuroo’s hair, only to land gently on top of Kuroo’s hand. “And maybe I’ll let you teach them your dumb ‘We’re the blood’ speech.”
Kuroo’s lip quirks up, and he tries not to let his rapidly beating heart ruin the moment. He looks down at their hands, and slowly moves so that he’s holding Kenma’s hand in his.
“We’d lower the net, together,” Kuroo says as he looks down at their hands; he catalogs how different each of their hands are and how right they look clasped together.
“Together,” Kenma agrees. “But we’ll give Nekomata a few more years before giving him the boot.”
Kuroo laughs, turning up to smile at Kenma. “How generous of the great Kodzuken.”
“Not too generous.” Kenma tilts his head to the other side of the kitchen. “We still need to finish cleaning up.”
“Our poor team will be worked to the bone under your leadership,” Kuroo complains, grinning when Kenma just rolls his eyes. Saying ‘ours’ feels better when Kenma’s by his side.
-
In another universe, Kuroo doesn’t look down at their hands when he says they’ll lower the net together, and he gets to see the way Kenma’s lips part. His own lips part in response, and then Kenma is reaching his hands back into Kuroo’s hair and bringing him in for a searing kiss.
In the next universe over, Kuroo starts reciting the ‘We are the blood speech.’ It takes Kenma by complete surprise.
“You still remember it?”
“Kenma.”
And Kuroo says Kenma’s name with so much exasperation, and fondness, and resignation, and Kenma can only ask, “So are you going to kiss me?”
Kuroo blinks, and in the next second he’s crowding Kenma, and kissing his neck, cheeks, and, finally, his lips.
In another, another universe, Kuroo gets lost in the nostalgia of their conversation. Before Kenma can say anything about the speech, he absentmindedly says, “I’ll give the captain advice on how to not get distracted by his setter.”
“Distracted by his setter,” Kenma repeats, and Kuroo blushes violently.
“I—I mean, obviously, what I meant was—”
“I distracted you?”
“I’m an easily distractible guy, is the thing--”
“You…Kuro, did you like me back in high school?”
“Back in high school,” Kuroo incredulously repeats, this time the one echoing Kenma. He shakes his head, and then runs a hand through his head. Part of him can’t believe he’s saying this, but a larger part can’t believe Kenma’s actually unaware of this. “Kenma. You have to know, it wasn’t just high school. It’s never been just in high school.”
“That’s dumb of us,” Kenma says, and before Kuroo can understand what he means, Kenma hooks a finger around Kuroo’s belt loop and pulls at him until Kuroo is standing between his thighs. “You’re saying you could’ve mine and I could’ve been yours since high school?”
Kuroo kisses him so deeply that Kenma has to grip onto him for dear life. Kuroo learns he likes the sound of ‘mine’ and ‘yours’ just as much as he likes ‘ours’.
-
Kenma needs to travel from time to time for his work. But for personal vacations, he usually doesn’t go very far. He and Kuroo usually schedule their time off at the same time, and both of them are more than content with just staying home, sleeping in, and going to the parts of the city they usually don’t have time for.
This trip is starting to make Kenma reconsider some things.
“Argentina is gorgeous,” Kuroo comments, and Kenma nods in agreement. Hinata perks up from where he's sitting at the table, and beams.
“It is! In the summer it’s nice and hot, too,” Hinata says happily. Kenma doesn’t quite scrunch his nose at the thought, but then Kuroo meets his eyes and he knows his distaste has been caught.
It’s fine. They just won’t visit again in the summer.
“I think it’d be nice to be married in Brazil,” Hinata adds, a little dreamily, and Kenma tries not to laugh as Atsumu chokes a little on his champagne.
“All these destination weddings, do none of you care about our wallets,” Kuroo complains. “Oikawa I understand, he doesn’t care if we go into debt on his behalf.”
Kenma checks out a bit from the conversation, his gaze sliding over to where Oikawa and Iwaizumi are happily making the rounds, chatting with their guests. He’d been surprised when he got the invitation stating the wedding would be in a whole other continent. He hadn’t been surprised that the invitation was being sent in general—it was only a matter of time before the two of them tied the knot.
Kenma had been even less surprised when they only sent one invitation, addressed to both him and Kuroo. Kuroo and Kenma always go together to these sorts of things. They’re each other’s plus one. Each other’s date. Other half.
Kenmalets the rest of his drink slide down his throat and reminds himself not to go there. He can not let the wedding get to him. It doesn’t matter that the ceremony was beautiful. It also doesn’t matter that the two people getting married are two childhood friends. And it most definitely doesn’t matter that they managed to get together and marry each other despite living on opposite sides of the world for half the year.
“Give me your champagne,” Kenma demands, turning to glare at Kuroo.
Kuroo’s eyebrows raise as he laughs in astonishment. “Why should I?”
“It’s what I deserve,” Kenma says vaguely, before reaching over, and taking Kuroo’s glass from his hand. Kuroo guffaws, but it isn’t enough to stop Kenma from draining the full glass in one smooth motion.
“Wow, Kenma!” Hinata says, sounding genuinely impressed.
“Wow, Kenma,” Atsumu repeats, except he’s looking right at Kuroo.
“Wow, Kenma,” Kuroo says drily, giving Kenma a look that says they’re going to be talking about this sooner or later.
“Are you judging me?” Kenma says lazily to Kuroo, eyes wandering as he tries to find a waiter for Kuroo to flag down and get more champagne.
“Nope, just observing that you just finished your fourth glass.” Kenma narrows his eyes at him, and Kuroo raises his hands up placatingly. “What? It’s just good to know it’s going to be that sort of wedding reception.”
“You’ve met Oikawa’s teammates. It was always going to be that sort of reception.”
Kuroo laughs, the short, abrasive, extra loud one he does when he’s caught off guard, and Kenma presses his lips together to avoid grinning.
“At least the happy couple don’t seem bothered by it,” Atsumu comments, and Kenma doesn’t turn to look because he was just looking at them a minute ago, thanks.
But then Hinata ‘Aw’s’ and Kuroo’s smile goes soft around the edges, and Kenma can’t help his curiosity. He wishes he could, because the way Iwaizumi and Oikawa are swaying gently in each other’s arms cuts at him in a way that no amount of champagne could protect him from.
“Shoyou-kun, did you want to dance?”
“Yeah!” Hinata replies, standing up and yanking Astumu from his seat. Kuroo chuckles at them as they leave the table, and Kenma can’t help but be a bit endeared too.
“I guess the atmosphere is really getting to everyone,” Kuroo comments, raising his hand to wave at a passing waiter to get them some more champagne. Kenma’s heart flutters a bit at Kuroo’s ability to read his mind, and he kind of hates himself for it.
“Shouyou was always going to want to dance,” he points out, taking a sip of his drink.
“Yeah, but he doesn’t usually talk about a wedding of his own,” Kuroo says. “It’s hard to imagine him settling down in general.”
Kenma shrugs. “True, but weddings can do the opposite too. I’m sure there are lots of couples about to have a huge fight once they get back to their hotel room.”
Kuroo scoots his chair closer to Kenma, and places his hand on his shoulder. “Alright, point out some people who are on the verge of breaking up.”
Kenma smiles. He’s always like the people watching games he and Kuroo play at events like these. He scans the room, and smirks when he notices a couple sitting at the bar, several inches between them.
“You see those two over there…”
They continue this game, the music fluctuating in the background from slow ballads to happy, pop music. It’s during one of the slower songs that Kenma’s gaze once again catches on Iwaizumi and Oikawa dancing. It tugs at his chest, the way they’ve been dancing with each other all night and still aren’t sick of it, and it starts making his imagination go places it really shouldn’t.
He doesn’t try to stop it, though.
“Would you ever want a first dance at your wedding?” Kenma asks, hoping the question comes across as lighthearted. The first dance has long passed, but he figures it’s the type of things people talk about when they attend weddings.
Kuroo looks surprised at the question though. “Uh, yeah. If the person I marry wants one too.”
Kenma nods, not really surprised. Kuroo’s always been a romantic.
“Right at the beginning?”
“Probably?”
“Would you take dance classes?”
“Eh, it’s not like it needs to be anything fancy?”
“What song would you want?”
“Hell, I don’t know Kenma,” Kuroo sighs heavily, slumping back in his seat a little. “I guess whatever y--”
Kuroo cuts himself off with a coughing fit so violent it has Kenma rapidly patting his back to help. Kuroo waves him off, grabbing his flute of champagne and chugging half of it down.
“Are you alright?” Kenma asks hesitantly, eyeing Kuroo warily.
“Yeah, I just, I breathed funny,” Kuroo says once he catches his breath, his voice still a little horse. He clears his throat again, and then shoots Kenma a bemused look. “What’s got you asking all these questions anyway?”
Kenma shrugs, his eyes drifting away as he thinks about the bands on Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s fingers. He thinks both of the rings as a tangible symbol for their love for each other, and of the easy way they exchanged them with each other.
“I mean,” Kenma says softly, still not looking at Kuroo. “Who doesn’t think about these sorts of things when they’re at a wedding.”
“Yeah, that’s fair,” Kuroo replies slowly. The music playing now is still slow and romantic, and Kenma wonders if that’s all they’re going to get for the rest of the night. He wonders how he’s supposed to get through it and not fall asleep, when Kuroo leans close enough to rest against the arm of Kenma’s char.
“Hey, do you want to dance?”
Kenma raises an eyebrow at Kuroo. “Why?”
“Ah, don’t look at me like that,” Kuroo pleads, trying to make his eyes look bigger and failing miserably. “When am I going to get another chance like this to get you to dance with me?”
Kenma can list a few ways Kuroo can get him to dance with him. Top of the list is just asking him to marry him so they can have a ceremony like this one, because it’s not like Kenma can imagine marrying anyone at this point. But he hasn’t had enough alcohol to let that slip.
“You’re the worst,” Kenma replies, but he also stands up from his seat and looks expectantly at Kuroo. Kuroo is up from his seat in the next moment, delight lighting up his face.
Kenma doesn’t say anything else as he lets Kuroo drag them to a secluded spot on the outskirts of the dance floor. Just soaks in the moment as he lets Kuroo sway him, lets Kuroo pull him close, and lets Kuroo rest his chin on his head while Kenma rests his head on his chest.
There’s very little, he thinks, that he wouldn’t let Kuroo do.
And maybe he’s had a bit more to drink than he thought, because when he feels Kuroo’s chest rumble with laughter, he realizes he’s said that last bit out loud.
Kuroo doesn’t tease him though. Just tightens the hand he has intertwined with Kenma’s, and says, “Well, I’d do anything you asked. So I guess that makes us quite the pair.”
Kenma nearly trips over his feet, which is a real accomplishment considering they’re literally just swaying back and forth. Part of him wishes he could get away with blaming it on the drinks.
His eyes widen. The drinks.
Kuroo probably wouldn’t be saying this if he wasn’t drinking. He’s sappy, yeah, but this is a whole new level. Kenma sighs, and swallows down his hope. He’ll just let Kuroo get away with saying it.
“I’ve been drinking, so you can’t hold anything I say against me,” Kenma says, creating an out for the both of them. Kuroo hums and doesn’t push it, and Kenma closes his eyes as he feels the vibration of it.
The band starts another love song, and they both continue to dance.
-
In another universe, Kenma does not just let Kuroo get away with saying that. He stops dancing, and looks up at Kuroo, studying the way he’s looking at Kenma.
There isn’t any apprehension in Kuroo’s eyes as he stares at Kenma head on, and Kenma makes a split second decision.
He takes Kuroo’s hand in his own, and tugs him out of the ballroom. Seven people notice it happening, but none of them say anything, just happy that the two of them managed to pull their heads out of their asses.
Outside of the ballroom, and three hallways down, Kenma brings them to the first dark corner he can find, and lets Kuroo's wide frame cover his body from wandering eyes as he pulls him into a scorching kiss. Kuroo, who was hoping to whatever God would listen that this is why Kenma was dragging him away, kisses him back immediately, and pressing as close as humanly possible. A mix of the wedding atmosphere, over ten years of unresolved tension, and the champagne in their systems leads to Kuroo lifting Kenma by the back of his thighs and Kenma pushing at Kuroo’s jacket insistently until it lands on the hallway floor.
With every kiss, they each get a bit more desperate. Kuroo starts marking Kenma’s throat with kisses and bites that have him stifling his moans against the back of his hand, and Kenma grinds into Kuroo roughly enough that he has to pause to collect himself. It isn’t until Kenma’s shirt is almost fully unbuttoned and Kuroo’s belt is hanging unbuckled between them that they remember that they have a room in the hotel the reception is at.
They end up missing the rest of the reception, upsetting Oikawa who was planning on aiming his bouquet toss at Kuroo.
It is important to note that the factor of a free, endless supply of alcohol leads to a very wide variety of other universes.
In one, Kuroo doesn’t stop himself from saying the song he wants for his first dance is whatever song Kenma wants. They leave the party immediately thereafter.
In a different one, Kenma doesn’t stop himself from saying he can’t imagine marrying anyone but Kuroo. They end up breaking several norms about PDA before managing to leave.
In a particularly disastrous universe, Kenma and Iwaizumi both have to bodily stop Oikawa from murdering Kuroo after the idiot gets down on one knee in the middle of the dance floor.
In all of the above mentioned universe, Kuroo and Kenma are both very happy the elevator is empty by the time they remember their hotel room exists.
-
Kuroo blinks a few times as he slowly wakes up. His bed feels off, the weight displaced in a way that makes him scrunch his brows. He turns over towards that weight, and is greeted by Kenma sitting on his bed, the light of Kuroo’s bed side lamp gently glowing over them.
“Happy birthday,” Kenma says, and Kuroo laughs softly in disbelief. He laughs even louder when Kenma pulls a plate from his night stands and he sees the muffin with a candle in the middle.
“I figured you wouldn’t want a cupcake in the morning,” Kenma explains with a smirk. “Because you’re a nerd.”
“Being health conscious is not being a nerd,” Kuroo says as he leans a little closer to blow out the candle. When he’s done, he looks up at Kenma in appreciation. “Thanks, Kenma.”
Then it actually dawns on Kuroo that it’s his birthday, and that means he’s another year older. He flops back on his bed, and looks at the ceiling. He’s 29 today. That’s like, what, a third of his life gone? If he’s lucky?
“I’m so old,” he whispers.
He doesn’t get much time to feel bad about it, because Kenma immediately flicks him in the forehead.
“Hey, I’m the birthday boy!” Kuroo exclaims. “The birthday boy doesn’t get forehead flicks.”
“He does when he’s being dumb,” Kenma says flatly. “You’re not old at all. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you still.”
“Well, I feel old.”
“You’ve always felt old,” Kenma says with a slight smile, pulling at Kuroo’s arm until he’s sitting up properly. “You started complaining of back pain when you were 10.”
Kuroo chuckles, though he can tell it falls a bit flat. “This feels different.”
Kenma shifts closer to Kuroo so that his knees are resting against the side of Kuroo’s thigh. He pulls Kuroo’s arm into his lap, and plays with his fingers for a bit.
“How do you mean?”
“I feel like,” Kuroo starts, staring at Kenma, and feeling the smallest hint of bravery kindle in his chest. “I feel like I’m running out of time.”
Kenma looks up at him. There’s a beat, where Kenma licks his lips and Kuroo feels his breath hitch.
Then Kenma blinks slowly at Kuroo, and asks, “Time to do what?”
Kuroo doesn’t hesitate, he just leans in and kisses Kenma. Kuroo sighs against his lips as Kenma kisses him back like he was ready for it, like he was waiting for it, like he has always been waiting for it.
And Kuroo cups Kenma’s head with both hands, tilts his head back, and kisses him for every time he’s wanted to kiss Kenma and then some.
“Running out of time for that,” Kuroo says breathlessly, when they part. They’re both panting, and Kuroo rests his forehead against Kenma’s as he tries to catch his breath. “I feel like I’ve wasted so much time.”
“I’ve been here,” Kenma says easily, like it’s something he’s thought about before. “I’ve always been here, with you. It doesn’t matter how or in what way, because I was always here.”
Kuroo looks at Kenma, really studies him. The shape of his eyes, and the bags underneath them. The hair that's falling from his bun, messier now than when he first came to wake Kuroo up. His lips that Kuroo used to only know the shape of, but now knows that taste and feel of. All of him, and all that he means to Kuroo.
“I love you,” Kuroo says, because even though it should be known by now he wants to say. He needs Kenma to hear him say it, so he never has any doubts.
“I love you, too,” Kenma replies, biting his lip in that way he does when he’s trying to smile too widely. Kuroo kisses him through the smile, and commits to memorizing the feel of it against his mouth.
-
There are universes where Kuroo and Kenma soulmates, born with each other’s names on their wrists. They still meet when they’re young, and see their names on each other’s skin. They get together a lot quicker in those.
There are universes where a major falling out leads to them not talking for a decade. They move across the country, change phone numbers and swear to never see each other again. They still find their way back to each other then, too.
However it happens, however long it takes, and in whatever universe, Kuroo and Kenma always find their way to each other. Sometimes their path is just a little more frustrating than others.