Work Text:
Kuroo wakes up at ass’o’clock in the morning with a crick in his neck and pillow creases imprinted on his face.
In an ideal world, he’d go back to sleep for another five hours— but he’s got a mandatory meeting at 8 a.m. and there’s no way in hell that Kuroo can skip out on it.
He drags himself out of bed, careful not to rouse Kenma and Akaashi, who are still sleeping peacefully, the lucky bastards.
He allows himself a brief moment to admire them; they’re cuddled up together, Kenma with his head tucked into Akaashi’s shoulder, and Akaashi with his arms wrapped around Kenma.
Having years of experience in this field, Kuroo knows Akaashi is a heat-seeking missile when he’s sleeping, and that his hugs are as warm as they are inescapable. Kenma won’t be getting out of that embrace until Akaashi wakes up.
Laughing at his boyfriend’s expense, Kuroo finally trudges out of the room, resigning himself to being an active member of society.
There’s a familiar sweet smell floating in the hallway, and it doesn’t take a detective for Kuroo to realize it’s coming from the kitchen.
Ah, Bo’s gracing us with breakfast again.
Regrettably, Kuroo experiences this thought with an undertone of sarcasm. Bokuto is a talented man in various
ways; he’s athletic, he has a great singing voice, he can spin on his head for like 30 whole seconds before getting dizzy— there’s an abundance of things Bokuto is good at.
…and cooking is certainly not one of them.
Once, in their first year of college, when Bokuto and Kuroo roomed together for the first time, Bokuto prepared a ‘birthday casserole’ for Kuroo.
If Kuroo’s memory serves him right, Bokuto’s exact words were: “I saw it on Pinterest a few days back and I felt a celestial pull to make it, so I was like, why not, yanno?”
The casserole in question was a unique blend of smoked sausages, french fries, a spattering of Soya sauce, an unholy load of cheese, and some shattered chocolate Pocky sticks tossed in for good measure.
Kuroo managed one bite before his stomach retaliated and he had to take a trip to the bathroom. Bokuto offered to make an apology casserole to which Kuroo responded by breaking into painful and mildly delirious laughter.
So. Needless to say, Bokuto is not the first choice when it comes to cooking. Kuroo is excited to see whatever monstrosity his boyfriend’s whipped up, though, so he saunters into the kitchen with a grin.
“Morning, Bo,”
The man of the hour whips around, revealing himself to be clad in a Kiss The Cook apron and slim-fit workout shorts. “Tetsu! Fancy to see you here,” He beams at Kuroo momentarily before returning his gaze to whatever he’s stirring on the stovetop.
Kuroo makes his way over, then loops his arms around Bokuto’s waist. He peers over his muscular boyfriend’s shoulder and promptly chokes. “Ah…whatchu got cookin’ there, babe?”
Bokuto’s pokes at the bubbling mass of grease and fat with the edge of his spatula. “Oh, just some begg.”
“…begg,”
“Yeah! Egg mixed with bacon. Want some?”
The things I do for love. Kuroo prays in the privacy of his mind before voicing a “yeah, hook me up!” out loud.
Bokuto wraps up his cooking within the next 15 minutes, and they sit together at the kotatsu to dine on their beggs.
Kuroo, miraculously, survives the experience. “It’s not too bad, Bokuto,” he muses, leaning back and glancing at his boyfriend.
Bokuto smirks, absurdly pleased. “I think you meant to say ‘they were amazing’, Tetsuro.” He folds his hands on the tabletop all business-like, and Kuroo smothers a laugh.
“Don’t get a big head now, I saw you gagging on them a few times,”
“What— lies! You just don’t want to admit that I’m a better cook than you!”
Kuroo would love to drag this out a little longer, but he’s got a meeting to attend and he’s yet to brush his teeth. “We’ll settle this later, babe. I gotta go get ready.”
He slips out of the kotatsu, presses a quick kiss to Bokuto's big-ass forehead, then slinks away in one fluid motion.
Alright, let’s get this over with.
Kuroo smells like corporate greed and capitalism by the time he gets home. He spent the meeting periodically checking their groupchat(where his boyfriends were sending stupid memes back-and-forth) and agonizing over the throbbing ache in his back from sitting down for so long.
The train ride to and fro work is crowded, Kuroo ends up sitting through 3 toddler temper tantrums and one botched marriage proposal in total. The second-hand embarrassment bogs Kuroo’s mood down so much that he doesn’t even laugh at Akaashi misspelling ‘organism’ as ‘orgasm’ in their groupchat.
But all that’s behind him now; Kuroo’s finally home. He sheds his leather work bag like it’s a second skin, kicking off his loafers and releasing the sigh he’s been holding since he left in the morning.
“Guess who’s back!” Kuroo hopes for an excited chorus of his name, but all he gets is a faint thud from somewhere deeper in the house.
Then, there’s the familiar plodding of socked feet against their wood flooring.
Kenma peeks out from the hallway, a chocobana snack hanging out the side of his mouth. He blinks at Kuroo dispassionately.
Kuroo returns the stare, hands migrating to his hips. “Well, hello to you too, Kenma. Nice to know everyone missed me,”
“We started the movie without you,” Kenma says, pleasantly.
“When since were we watching a movie?”
“We talked about it on the groupchat,”
Kuroo raises a quizzical brow. “I’ve been checking it all day. All you guys did was meme each other,”
The corner of Kenma’s lips tug up as he tugs his chocobana out his mouth. “Ah, the one you’re not in, then.”
“ Pardon?”
“Tetsu, Kenma! Stop arguing and get in here, the popcorn’s getting cold!” Bokuto’s voice reverberated throughout the house, a characteristic mix of excitement and impatience.
Kuroo and Kenma comply, making their way into the bedroom. The sight of Bokuto lying with his head in Akaashi’s lap, cozy on the carpet, greets them.
Akaashi smiles at their arrival. “How was work?”
“ Ugh ,” After swapping out his suit for some PJs, Kuroo slumps down beside them in an exhausted heap. “I don’t even want to think about it,”
Bokuto interjects, “You coulda skipped and hung out with us!”
“What gave you the idea that I wanna hang out with you??”
“Weren’t you whining about missing us earlier?” Kenma says from where he’s lying across the bed. He always has something to say when it comes to teasing Kuroo.
“Hey, don’t start ganging up on me now!” Kuroo lifts his head to stick his tongue out at Kenma. “I’m the only reason you nerds don’t starve,”
“Who made breakfast today, Tetsu?”
“That doesn’t count, Bo. If we lived off just your cooking we’d mutate into ninja turtles,”
“If the two of you would continue your quarrel later,” Akaashi interrupts, sounding vaguely irked. “I’d like to start the film now,”
Kenma clears his throat. “It’s some indie arthouse movie. Keiji’s had it on his watchlist for 6 months.”
Ah, that explains it. Kuroo and Bokuto offer a chorused sorry, Kaashi , and Kuroo mentally prepares himself for an hour and a half of strange artistic choices and pretentious monologues. The fact that he’s doing it for Akaashi’s sake makes it worth it, though— he’ll never get tired of the thoughtful look Akaashi dons whenever they watch one of these weirdass movies.
“I believe the dahlias were a metaphor for childhood and young love,” Akaashi has been laying out his thoughts on the movie for 15 minutes now, and Kuroo is only a little ashamed to admit he’s spent the entirety of it admiring his boyfriend’s beautiful slate blue eyes.
Bokuto is conked out, sprawled across Akaashi’s lap. He only got through the intro sequence of the movie before he started tapping out. And Kenma’s off in his streaming room, speaking with a representative of one of his many sponsor deals.
The early morning is catching up with Kuroo now, and it’s becoming a chore to keep his head upright. “Kaashi,” he says when the former setter pauses in his tirade, “what say you we move this oaf to the bed?”
They transport their beefcake of a boyfriend to the bed— and maybe destroy Kuroo’s back for good in the process— tucking him under the covers gently. Bokuto has a melty smile on his face even as he sleeps, blissful and likely dreaming good things. Like volleyballs..or kneepads.
Kuroo and Akaashi share a look, both amazed by just how gone they are for this man.
After sharing a quick goodnight kiss, they join Bokuto in bed. Kuroo retrieves two cushy looking pillows and positions them on either side of his head. He hears the sheets rustle as Akaashi finds a comfortable position, and smiles a little, knowing that he’ll probably be on the opposite side of the bed by the time he wakes.
Kuroo might drift off, because he doesn’t remember Kenma slipping under the sheets with them. He does recall hearing someone murmur go back to sleep above his head, and then a light brush against his back followed by a mumbled oops . Eventually, the movement stills, and all Kuroo registers is Kenma’s familiar warmth at his side.
A mess of tangled limbs, they sleep the night away, safe in each other’s arms.