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“Kenma,” Kuroo said, taking off his volleyball shoes, “Fukurodani is having a party at Bokuto’s house tomorrow.”
“Have fun.”
Kenma picked up his track jacket and stood up to grab his backpack.
“Come with,” Kuroo said, “They said I could bring girls or single gays.”
“Cringe.”
He waited for Kuroo to change and hoped the topic would drop, but he wasn’t that lucky. Kuroo really loved those stupid parties.
“Come on,” Kuroo pleaded, “It’ll be fun.”
“These things suck so fucking bad,” Kenma pointed out, “It’s always just you being a whore and Bokuto getting blackout drunk.”
“Please.”
“No.”
Kenma thought about it for a moment as they waved their goodbyes to everyone and started their walk to the station. There was nothing he wanted more than to go home and take a nap.
“I think it’d be good for you to come,” Kuroo said, “You can take some time to unwind a little. It’ll be awesome.”
Kenma figured he was only going to be a high schooler once in his life so he might as well try to enjoy the things that every other high schooler enjoys, or at least that’s what his mom had been begging him to do.
“Fine, I’ll come, but I need something to look forward to,” Kenma said, “Wanna rematch pinning again?”
“Oh, fuck yes I do,” Kuroo said, “I’m going to kick your ass this time.”
The game was rather straightforward. It was a competition to see who could get more clothespins onto someone who wasn’t paying attention before they noticed. It was one of their absolute favorite games to play and Kenma won every single time.
“I’m going to destroy you this time and every time after, like I always do,” Kenma said, plainly, “Do you have time to pick up clothespins from the store before tomorrow? I don’t think I have any left.”
The last time they played the game, Kenma’s victim angrily stormed off, taking the clips with him.
“Yeah, I can do that,” Kuroo said, “Video proof is cool if it’s cool with you.”
“Probably best to not arouse suspicions, but either that or in person is fine.”
“Have any ideas about stakes?” Kuroo asked, holding the door to the station open for Kenma.
“You’re helping me babysit the hell cousins,” Kenma said without even a hint of hesitation, “They’re coming over on Sunday morning for me to watch.”
“I don’t remember any hell cousins,” Kuroo said. He’d been to a few of Kenma’s family get-togethers. He happened to like almost all of Kenma’s relatives.
“They’re two elementary aged girls,” Kenma started, “With an endless amount of energy and a predisposition for chaos.”
Kuroo wasn’t terribly concerned about it. He considered himself to resemble that description. Plus, how hard could it be to control two little girls?
“That’s not too bad,” Kuroo said, swiping through the turnstiles, “Low stakes bet is chill especially since it’s during a party.”
Kenma raised an eyebrow as he swiped himself through after Kuroo.
“Your funeral,” he said, “But what are you thinking?”
Kuroo paused for a second to think about it.
“Come help out at youth camp,” Kuroo said, “You don’t even have to set if you don’t want to. Just keep score or whatever.”
“Ah, man,” Kenma said, pretending it was a large ask. He probably would have done it anyway if Kuroo had just asked him outright, “I guess I can agree to those terms.”
Kuroo didn’t bother to knock. He just walked right in. He was more than used to trouncing his way into Bokuto’s house. Kenma, less so.
“Dude, what the fuck are you wearing?” Konoha asked, crossing his arms with a smile.
The answer was wearing asinine cargo pants and a jacket he bought from a thrift store right before the party. He wanted a good way to store all of the clothespins without it being obvious. Kenma just went the sensible route of simply bringing a bag. Kuroo was feeling particularly optimistic and bought fifty each for Kenma and himself.
“Sorry that you aren’t fashionable,” Kuroo said, walking past Konoha, “Some of us don’t wear out of season athleisure everywhere we go.”
Kenma sent Konoha a playful eye roll and followed Kuroo into the kitchen.
“Goddamn. This is nice stuff,” Kenma said, eyeing the setup on the counter, “Did Bokuto-san ask for a cover?”
“Nah,” Kuroo said, cracking open the spiced rum, “He said his moms specifically bought them for us.”
“Huh,” Kenma said, grabbing the six pack of ginger beer from his bag, “We’ll have to thank them.”
Kuroo nodded and filled two glasses with ice and two shots of spiced rum each. Kenma cracked open a bottle of ginger beer and topped off both cups with it.
“May the best man win,” Kuroo said, tipping his plastic cup against Kenma’s.
“So, me?”
“I should have left you at home,” Kuroo said, flicking him in the forehead.
Kenma rolled his eyes and looked over to the front room where Bokuto and Akaashi were setting up the ping pong table.
He smiled. He knew exactly what was coming.
“Regular teams?” Kenma asked.
“Absolutely,” Bokuto said, raising his glass, “Get your ass over here, Kuroo.”
“You know where Kuro is?” Kenma asked.
Akaashi shrugged from his curled up position on the papasan chair. He and Kenma had won four games of beer pong in a row, and considering the fact that the winners had to continue playing other teams until they lost, they were both more than a little drunk.
Kenma was going to go run interference on Kuroo, but he’d have to find him first. He’d been gone long enough that it definitely wasn’t just for a pee break.
There was technically no rule against ratting out the other person while they were pinning, but it wasn’t good betting etiquette. Kenma would break that if he found a bet serious enough, but that didn’t apply to the current round. That being said, there was nothing against him being a slight obstacle.
There was only one thing that stopped him: Yuuna.
She’d been hiding somewhere the entire time people were over, but she strutted over to the couch, eyeing Kenma apprehensively. She meowed at him, placing her front paws on the front of the couch.
He scratched behind her ears and she jumped up onto his lap, nuzzling him. He wasn’t going to be able to get up for a good long time. When he felt his phone buzz, he carefully snuck it out of his pocket, avoiding bothering Yuuna at all costs.
When he saw the text from Konoha, he was terrified about whatever horror he was going to be subjected to.
‘Sorry bro, Kro-kun said I gotta send this.’
He was mostly just praying it was not a dick pic. Konoha had a reputation for that kind of thing.
When Kenma opened the video that came through, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would have rather seen Konoha’s dick.
It was a video of Kuroo making out with someone Kenma was pretty sure played for Nohebi. That guy must have had terrible taste, making out with a boy in heinous cargo pants.
The two of them were getting rather handsy and Kuroo was clearly reaching into his own pockets at random to nonchalantly stick more and more clothespins to the other boy’s back.
There were ten pins hanging off of his sweatshirt when the video started, but by the time the boy realized, pulling his lips from Kuroo’s with a confused look on his face, there were probably around twenty there. It was going to be hard to beat, but Kenma had a plan, just like he always did.
There were two things he could always count on happening at these parties. The first wasn’t helpful to him, but the second was an excellent opportunity.
“Akaashi-kun, mind if I finish this off?” Kuroo asked.
“I couldn’t care less about whatever dumb decisions you choose to make.”
“Thanks bud!” he said, holding the rum bottle up as if it were a toast before drinking what amounted to at least three shots directly from it.
“That stuff is so gross,” Akaashi said, sipping his carefully crafted Singapore Sling.
Kuroo felt a tug at the side of his shirt and looked down to find Kenma.
“Oh, there you are,” he said, lifting his arm and turning towards him. He set the bottle down on the counter.
“I finished pinnin’,” Kenma said, giggling, “Come see.”
Kenma was indisputably giggling. Not laughing, not chuckling, giggling. Kenma didn’t giggle. Even under the influence of alcohol, it was an incredibly rare sight.
That was how Kuroo knew he’d been beat before even seeing the proof. He sighed and followed Kenma down the hall and into a room. The room was dark, so he turned on his phone flashlight.
“I frankly don’t even know what to say right now,” Kuroo admitted.
He was staring at a passed out Bokuto with the entire back of his shirt and shorts covered in clothespins.
“You should say, “grats Kenma, you won,’” Kenma suggested, beaming.
Kuroo looked back down at Bokuto and noticed the clothespins sticking out of his hair as well. He looked like a demented hedgehog.
“Is he dead?” Kuroo asked, cocking his head to the side, “The bet is nullified if you clothespinned a dead person.”
Kenma nudged Bokuto's shoulder with his foot and Bokuto started snoring.
“Seems alive to me.”
Kuroo pressed the heels of his hands into his eyelids.
“I’m not even going to bother count how many,” he said, “Drop the hell cousins off at my place.”
Kenma whispered something he couldn’t hear.
“What?” Kuroo asked, bending down to rouse Bokuto.
“I said ‘fifty,’” Kenma responded, giggling again, “I only stopped because that’s all I had.”
“You’re the-“
He stopped talking when the lights turned on, momentarily blinding after being in the dark.
“Kuroo-san, you piece of shit. What did you do to him?” Akaashi asked, “In his moment of weakness no less?”
Akaashi’s voice seemed to do the trick of waking Bokuto up. He looked somewhat like a concerned housewife, wearing an oversized cardigan, a solemn expression, and slippers.
“It was him,” Kuroo said, pointing to Kenma.
“What?” Kenma asked, putting on his best face of innocence, “I’m not the one with clothespins in my cargo pants.”
Akaashi narrowed his eyes at the two of them, trying to figure out which one was lying. If he wasn’t somewhat intoxicated, he probably would have been able to tell.
“‘Kaashi,” Bokuto said, sloppily getting to his feet, “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t appear to notice the large amount of clothespins attached to his clothes, but he went to scratch his head and pulled his hand back with a pathetic ‘owie.’
Akaashi glared at the two troublemakers, who could no longer hold in their laughter. Kuroo doubled over, cackling, as Kenma sat on the edge of the bed, covering his mouth with his hand.
“Here, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, holding his hand up.
Kuroo and Kenma shared a silent look as Bokuto immediately went over to him, bending his head down for Akaashi to pluck the pins out. He looked like a cat begging to be pet.
There was a moment of painstaking silence between them all as Akaashi worked before Kuroo and Kenma began cackling once more.
Not even Akaashi’s venomous glare could stop them.
Kenma wasn’t a cruel boy; He wasn’t going to make Kuroo babysit by himself, but he was going to hide in his house for a half hour to make him sweat.
He snorted as he walked into Kuroo’s house, hearing a young girl insist that Kuroo needed to walk the plank for his crimes.
It was swashbuckling time. Kenma was intimately familiar with swashbuckling time.
He couldn’t help but smile as he went into the living room to discover that Kuroo had his entire torso tied up, his arms trapped against his sides. He was sat entirely in a corner and looked like he was prepared to not only give up on babysitting, but possibly even life as a whole.
The two girls donned plastic swords and pirate hats, singing the theme song from a kid’s show about pirates.
“You guys having fun?” Kenma asked, crossing his arms as he leaned into the doorframe.
“Arrr,” the first one said, pointing her sword at him.
“Yo-ho,” the second one called, hopping onto the ottoman.
“Where have you been?” Kuroo asked, staring at Kenma, incredulous.
“Oh, just enjoying my morning,” Kenma said, “Girls, I heard there was an ‘X’ hidden in the kitchen. What do you think that means?”
“Treasure?” the younger one asked, wide eyed.
“It has to be treasure!” the older one answered, “Let’s go!”
They bounded out of the room, waving their swords. Kenma looked over at Kuroo.
“You didn’t fire too many cannonballs, did you?” he asked, a smile creeping onto his face.
“That is what I’m being accused of,” Kuroo said, a faux despair in his eyes, “But I don’t remember firing any cannonballs, nevertheless too many.”
“Ooh, classic rookie mistake.”
“Can you stop them from destroying my kitchen?”
“Nah,” he said, “But I can watch them do it and make sure they don’t get hurt.”
“Can you untie me?” Kuroo asked.
“What? You can’t escape a knot made by an eight year old?” Kenma said, “That’s just pathetic at this point.”
“The knot is literally just a few centimeters out of my grasp.”
“That’s what you get for firing too many cannonballs,” Kenma pointed out.
He reached down as if to untie Kuroo, but just condescendingly patted him on the head instead.
“I’m giving you six seconds to untie me,” Kuroo said, leveling a glare at Kenma.
“Criminals don’t get to make requests.”
Kenma sat on the floor to grab some paper so he could draw the girls a pirate flag.
“Have it your way,” Kuroo said with a wicked grin, which admittedly terrified Kenma, “Girls! It’s time for the ball.”
Kenma froze as he heard the two pairs of footsteps pounding into the room. He was familiar with swashbuckling time, as well as car racing extravaganza, and even the occasional popstar tour, but a ball was news to him.
“Where’s the stuff?” one of them shrieked, sliding into the room using her socks.
“Baggie on the table,” Kuroo said.
Kenma watched with nerves on edge as the girls dug into the bag and pulled out three hair chalks. Kuroo had bought them in advance of babysitting for this exact purpose.
“You’re crazy,” Kenma said, “That’s gonna stain your couch.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Kuroo said, “I already told them it only works on yellow hair.”
“You son of a bitch.”
“Son of a bitch!” the younger squealed, running at Kenma with blue and pink hair chalk, “What’s son of a bitch!”
Kenma squeezed the bridge of his nose.
“If I let you color my hair, will you promise not to say that to your mom and dad?” Kenma asked.
His hands were held out in front of him as if he were trying to ward off a rabid coyote. He might have had better luck with the coyote.
“Yes,” the older one said, cutting in front of her sister, “Now sit, Princess. You must look pretty to find a prince.”
Kenma sighed and slowly crouched to a seated position, admitting defeat.
“Did you have fun on your trip?” Kenma asked, opening the door.
“It was excellent,” the girls’ mother said, “I like your hair.”
“Thank you,” Kenma said, patting the knotted colorful ponytail on his head, “I’m trying to meet a prince.”
“Were they too much trouble today?” she asked.
“Yes,” Kuroo said, ushering the girls over.
“He was helping me out,” Kenma explained, “He fired too many cannon balls.”
“Oh, rookie mistake,” she said, nodding knowingly.
“Mommy!” the younger girl shouted, brandishing her sword at Kuroo, “He’s a son of a bitch!”