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“Kenma, please,” Kuroo asked, as he sat next to him, putting his long legs up on the ottoman.
“Absolutely not,” he said, clearing his level, “The JVA needing clout is not an excuse to embarrass me on the internet.”
“But it’d be funny,” Kuroo insisted.
“Funny for you. If you tweet that, millions of people around the world are going to see it. My fans would literally never let me live it down. It would haunt me until the day I died,” he argued, starting the next level.
“That’s actually the point. If a million people see it, some of them will go check out the JVA Twitter.”
“I don’t care that the JVA needs a larger audience. Maybe you should try doing your job instead of schmoozing your boyfriend to do it for you,” Kenma pointed out.
“Would you change your mind if I kissed your forehead and then brought you some chips?” Kuroo asked.
“Hmm,” Kenma said thoughtfully, “Would a forehead kiss and some chips make me be okay with you sharing terrible photos of me collapsed on a volleyball court for the whole world to see?”
“It’s not the whole world, just like your fans, and then the like thousands followers of the JVA Twitter, and then whoever those people share it with,” he argued.
“That seems like a lot of people,” Kenma pointed out.
“Two forehead kisses?” Kuroo asked.
“Actually, I think that could change my mind about the situation,” he said as he focused on the game.
Kuroo got up to grab a bag of chips from the kitchen. He opened it as he returned, gently setting it on Kenma’s lap. He leaned over and placed two kisses on Kenma’s forehead. They were Kenma’s favorite form of currency.
“I changed my mind. Now I’m still absolutely not letting you do it, but I’m more sympathetic to your situation,” he said with a half smile.
“You’re telling me I kissed your forehead, not once, but twice, for no reason,” Kuroo asked in false exasperation. He dramatically flopped onto the couch next to Kenma.
“I didn’t realize my affection meant nothing to you,” he said, leaning his upper body into Kuroo’s arm.
“Shut up.”
Kuroo moved his arm around Kenma’s shoulders, so that he could more comfortably lean into him.
They mostly sat in silence as Kenma made his way through the game. The only real noises either of them made were Kenma groaning in frustration and Kuroo laughing at him doing that. He liked watching Kenma get agitated. It was cute. He’d go into the stereotypical gamer pose for a while when he was struggling and then go back to his place under Kuroo’s arm when it started going smoothly again.
“You should reconsider letting me tweet the pictures,” Kuroo said, placing a kiss on the top of Kenma’s head.
“No,” he said flatly.
“How rude. What if it was a bet?” Kuroo asked.
“I could go for a bet. What game?” Kenma asked, his eyes narrowing at the screen as he tried to figure out the best method of attack.
“We haven’t done trivia in a while,” Kuroo pointed out.
“If you want to do that, we’re definitely going to need judges.”
They’d played the game many times, sometimes alone, and sometimes with others, but it always at least once during the competition devolved into an argument over who ‘buzzed in’ first. It also tended to be a pretty even game between them. They both had very different circles of knowledge, but seemed to have an equal amount of it overall.
“I can get judges,” Kuroo said, “No problem.”
“We can get judges. I don’t trust you not to pay them off,” Kenma said with a laugh.
Kuroo feigned offense but said, “That’s fine. We can get three and split them. Make a night out of it, but you’re the one who makes like a gagillion dollars a year and can actually afford the bribing.”
“Maybe one day you can make a gagillion dollars too,” he said, awkwardly reaching up to ruffle Kuroo’s hair, “So what do I get if I win?”
“Oh, hmm,” Kuroo said, “You can pick.”
“You have to give me your ring size.”
It was a loaded request. They’d had the conversation- they both wanted to get married- but they also both wanted to be the ones proposing. Naturally, they had to be as stubborn as possible about it and both refused to let the other size them for a ring, leading to a general stalemate.
Kuroo hesitated for a moment.
“That’s a big ask for a bet,” he pointed out, cocking his head to the side.
“So is embarrassing me on the internet,” Kenma countered, pausing his game so he could inhale some chips.
“Fine,” Kuroo said, plucking a chip from Kenma’s hand and popping it into his own mouth, “The normal trivia board game with three judges. If I win, I get to share photos of you on the JVA account. If you win, you get my ring size.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he said, saving and then turning off the game. He curled himself onto Kuroo’s lap, nestling his way so that his head was leaning against Kuroo’s chest, “We should plan what we wanna do for it.”
“Mhm,” Kuroo said, excitedly rubbing Kenma’s shoulders. It wasn’t terribly often that Kenma was physically affectionate, completely unprompted, and it brought him immense joy. “What do you think?”
“I’m not sure,” Kenma admitted, a contented sigh leaving his lungs.
Kuroo grinned, glad that Kenma couldn’t see him. He’d just had an idea of monumental proportions.
Kenma lined up the catering trays on their counter, setting up little plates and serving utensils for each one. Next they started making the fruit tray, working in silence, cutting up the melons. Kuroo began stacking the cubes and interspersing them with berries. He was trying to create a design that looked like a castle, but Kenma determined it definitely looked more like a pile of fruit thrown on a tray.
“Okay,” Kuroo said, stepping back and viewing his sculpture, “I think everything is good to go now.”
“I think so too,” Kenma said, slowly spinning in a circle to take a look at their place. It was decorated, snacks and food set out, assorted games all over, and extra seating. Kuroo even insisted on pulling out their fancy tablecloths that they only used for special occasions, “But this seems a bit much for a small get together.”
“Listen,” Kuroo said, booping Kenma’s nose much to his annoyance, “Remember Lev’s housewarming party with the chocolate fountain? We have to at least try to keep up.”
“Hmm, you’re right,” Kenma responded, his face serious, “Give me your keys. I’ll move your car into the garage so our driveway has more space.”
“You’re pretty and smart,” Kuroo remarked, “Incredible.”
“It’s moving a car,” Kenma said, shooting him a look, “It’s not all that smart.”
“And you can drive too, a man of many talents.”
Kenma simply rolled his eyes.
Kenma smiled as he looked over at his husband who was excitedly socializing, his arms waving about as he told some animated story. He decided to cover up most of the food. Everyone seemed like they had eaten their fill. He wandered into the kitchen to do just that.
Just as he was about to cover the last tray, Kuroo walked in beside him.
“Oh, I was going to do this,” Kuroo said, leaning against the counter, “You should have told me.”
“It’s no worries,” Kenma said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek, “You were preoccupied.”
“I know, but still, don’t need you doing all the work,” he pointed out, “You’re going to be bummed enough about losing. No need to pile it on.”
“The only thing that’s being piled on is going to be a wedding ring on your finger.”
“That comeback didn’t devastate my feelings and doesn’t even make sense,” Kuroo pointed out, “Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”
“There are way too many people in my house,” Kenma pointed out.
“Ah, I’m sorry,” he said, his forehead wrinkling in concern, “I wish-“
“It’s fine,” Kenma said with a smile, “I’m so happy to see everyone, really, I’m just still not good at it. Thanks for putting this together.”
“Of course,” Kuroo said, grabbing his hand with a smile, “Want to begin our duel?”
“It’s hardly a duel if you’re my competitor,” Kenma said with a shrug.
“Oh, that’s so much better.”
“Hey guys,” Kuroo called, getting the attention of the ten or so guests still there, “We’re going to start trivia.”
“What are the stakes again?” Akaashi asked, plenty familiar with how this all worked.
“If I win, I get to share embarrassing photos of Kenma on the JVA Twitter and if Kenma wins he gets my ring size.”
Bokuto looked like he was going to say something, but he clearly thought better of it and held his tongue.
“I’ve won the last three times we’ve done trivia,” Kenma pointed out, sliding into his chair, “I’ve got this.”
Kuroo sat next to him and made sure to elbow him a few times in the aim of good sportsmanship.
The judges sat down opposite the couple. They’d decided to have one judge that would be partial to each of them and then a so-called impartial judge, mostly because they couldn’t agree on the most objective set of judges.
Kuroo complained about Hinata Shouyou being on the panel considering he had a vested financial interest in Kenma winning, but he allowed it so he could have Bokuto Koutarou on his side. The center judge was the closest person they could find to being unbiased who agreed to participate: Yaku Morisuke.
By all means, it was looking to be a good game, the trash talk having begun the second their guests started to appear.
“Alrighty,” Kuroo said, opening the box and sliding one of the sealed envelopes across the table to the judges
“Did the game come with the envelopes?” Hinata asked.
“Nope,” Kuroo said, “We just decided to split up the cards and make them unable to access so there can be no peeking beforehand.”
“Don’t you have the envelopes in the house?” Yaku pointed out, confused, “You could just open the envelope and reseal them in another one.”
“Don’t be silly,” Kuroo said, “That’s cheating.”
Kenma nodded his agreement.
“You two are clinically insane,” Yaku pointed out, “You know that?”
“Don’t make fun of Kenma in his own house!” Kuroo exclaimed, throwing a wadded up napkin at Yaku.
“Shut the fuck up,” Kenma said, elbowing him.
“Are you guys ready?” Shouyou asked, an exasperated look on his face.
They both nodded enthusiastically.
“Okay, so let’s do whoever hits the table first,” Yaku said, “The three of us will take turns reading the questions. What are you playing to?”
“End of the deck,” they responded simultaneously.
Everyone laughed, Yaku rolling his eyes at them, and then the game began.
They had approximately twenty different cards, the judges alternating who read them. There were very few disputes over who got to answer first and the game was somewhat evenly matched. They weren’t going back and forth, but they’d each go on streaks of three or so questions, eventually evening the score.
By the time there were two cards left, Kuroo was up by one, meaning that it was sudden death for Kenma. He would have to get them both to win.
The atmosphere was incredibly tense as the first of the two questions was read. There was absolute silence in the room besides Bokuto’s voice reading out the question.
“What neurotransmitter is responsible for pleasure, also known as the ‘feel-good’ neurotransmitter?”
Both of them slammed their hands onto the table before he even finished the question. There was a quick debate over who had control of the question and it was given to Kenma, who rolled his shoulders back, and took a deep breath. He knew this. He’d heard Kuroo go on about neuroscience for years.
“Serotonin.”
“Nope,” Bokuto said, “Ku-“
“Dopamine!” he exclaimed with a grin, pushing himself out of the chair, “Serotonin is the ‘happy hormone’ and a mood stabilizer.”
Kenma groaned and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting like a young child. He was positive he had it correct.
“Happiness and feeling good is the same thing,” Kenma objected.
Kuroo just smiled as he pulled out his phone and searched for something.
“Oh, my love, it’s time to pay up,” Kuroo said, poking his husband’s arm, an oddly admiring smile on his face.
“You got lucky,” he said, looking up at Kuroo with annoyance in his eyes.
“Lucky that you love me,” Kuroo pointed out, holding out his phone to Kenma, “But I’ll even let you proofread what I wrote first, you know, because I’m kind and thoughtful.”
“You know what?” Kenma said, grabbing the phone from him, ignoring the loving yet smug look in his eyes, “I don’t even wanna look at you.”
He spun around petulantly to proofread the tweet that Kuroo had typed out beforehand. He really didn’t want to share those photos. The caption was the first thing he looked at. Unfortunately it had him tagged in it directly. He then scrolled through awful pictures of himself from high school and sighed. Upon seeing the last one, a plain black background with the words ‘measured you in your sleep,’ Kenma whirled around to face Kuroo.
He knew exactly what was happening and his eyes began to well with tears when he saw his boyfriend, down on one knee, ringbox in hand.
“Sweets, I-“
“I hate you,” Kenma said, interrupting him, unable to keep the smile off his face. He was going to cry. He held up his hand to Kuroo, “I will marry you, though.”
“There’s nothing I want more,” Kuroo said, a sappy smile on his face, sliding the ring onto Kenma’s waiting finger, “Than to be yours forever.”
“You always have been,” Kenma said, covering his face with his hand. He wrapped his arms around Kuroo’s neck once he stood up and whispered in his ear, “I love you. I love you. I’m going to marry you. I love you so much.”
They stood like that, rocking back and forth for a second until they were loudly interrupted.
“Just kiss already,” Yaku teased.
“We have to give the people what they want,” Kuroo said, pulling his head back.
His hands found his way into Kenma’s hair and they kissed, really kissed. Neither of them wanted to stop. Their kisses spoke their story, going all the way back to the very first one. They thought of all of the previous Kuroos and Kenmas finding each other’s lips and wanted to never stop adding on to the timeline.
“Oh my god, I take it back,” Yaku whined, “Kiss less or like somewhere else.”
“They can take their time,” Shouyou said, “I’m going to start in on the pie, though.”
“Pie?” Kenma asked, his lips still against Kuroo’s.
“Yes, my love,” Kuroo said, pulling back to place a kiss on his forehead, “And lots of champagne.”