Work Text:
Well, thinks Kuroo, it’s certainly a Look.
He’s looking at a photo of Tsukishima from his last match. Tsukki’s in his Sendai Frogs uniform, the yellow and green almost garish. Yet Tsukishima, as always, looks elegant, and this time the reason is clear: his arms are wrapped from wrist to bicep in black compression sleeves.
Kuroo isn’t really sure why it should be so alluring; more of Tsukishima’s body is covered. And yet….there’s something about the thin fabric, the way it clings to Tsukishima’s wrists, the way the muscles in his arm are still visible… He’s wearing tight shorts, too, just barely peeking out under his uniform. The overall effect is….striking.
Sighing, Kuroo closes the picture and gets back to work.
Or tries to. His coworkers keep interrupting him with messages:
“Have you seen the latest pics from the Sendai Frogs game? ;)”
“Your Tsukishima is looking niiiiice.”
“Hey, your boy is trending on Twitter!”
Kuroo, in an attempt to keep the peace, replies with various emojis. But in truth, he wishes they wouldn’t do this. He hadn’t meant to talk about Tsukishima this much at work; hadn’t meant to give away his (lingering) high school crush. And he really didn’t want to be reminded, every time the Frogs came around in the promotions, of what was beyond his reach.
His phone chimes; it’s Kenma.
Kenma: Tsukishima is trending on twitter.
Fuck my life.
Kenma: And I can see why.
Kuroo: fuck my life
Kenma: why don’t you just fuck tsukishima?
Kuroo: fuck you too
Kenma: no thanks
Kuroo lets his head drop to the desk. How long was this going to go on?
He gets more texts. Of course he does.
Bokuto: daaaaaaamn
Lev: Has Tsukki ever done any modeling? Could you ask him? My agent is asking me.
And worst of all:
Yaku: next time I’m in japan I am going to HIT THAT
Like hell you are, Kuroo finds himself thinking. Not while I still breathe.
He’s a little surprised by the violence of his response.
***
He goes to Kenma’s house for dinner, picking up food on the way. He wants comfort.
Kenma greets him with raised eyebrows.
“Bad day.” Kuroo unpacks the food on the kotatsu.
“So,” asks Kenma eventually. “You freaking out?”
Kuroo doesn’t ask, about what? He just answers, “Yeah.”
They are quiet for a moment. Then Kuroo adds, “Everybody wants him.”
“So?”
“I hate it.”
“And yet you don’t want to do anything about it?”
“He’s…we’re not…it’s not like that. We’re friends. It would be weird to hit on him, after all this time.”
“Would not.” Kenma’s response is without heat. They’ve had this conversation a million times. “Look, say something or don’t. But if you don’t, you don’t get to complain if someone else does.”
“Yes I do. Shut up.”
A small smile touches Kenma’s lips.
***
The next day, he lets himself text Tsukishima.
Kuroo: You’re all over my twitter feed.
Tsukishima: You’re welcome.
Kuroo: The JVA approves of your slutty outfit, btw.
Tsukishima: MORE of my body is covered, how is this slutty?
Kuroo: It just is.
Tsukishima: Apparently. I’ve gotten like 10 marriage proposals.
Kuroo tries to think of a way to respond to this.
Tsukishima: And Yaku texted me an eggplant and a mouth so….i guess that’s an option.
Bastard. How dare he.
Kuroo: Well don’t get married yet, we’re using your body to sell tickets.
Tsukishima: ….I know. That’s what sports IS.
Kuroo: You know what I mean.
He can’t decide if he feels worse or better, after that.
***
Two days later, Kuroo half-invents a reason to go to Sendai. “I just really need to follow up with that ad agency,” he insists. “Sometimes you need to do things in person.” His coworkers tease him mercilessly.
He texts Tsukishima from the train, feeling rather disingenuous.
Kuroo: In town for work. Do you have time to meet up?
Tsukishima: Sure. Come by after practice.
Kuroo: will do.
He’s smiling. He can’t help smiling. Every time he sees Tsukishima, he can’t help smiling.
***
Even with his JVA badge on, Kuroo feels like an interloper in the practice gym. He lingers, awkwardly, outside the locker room, waiting for Tsukishima to emerge.
The sendai frogs’ libero walks by –- what was his name? He looks Kuroo up and down, and then calls through the locker room door, “Tsukishima! Your beautiful man is standing in the hallway! Do you want him, or shall I take him for myself?”
Tsukki’s voice comes back. “Go fuck yourself on a baguette, Pierre.”
Pierre! That was it.
“Fuck yourself on anything, Tsukishima!” Pierre looks back at Kuroo. “Please tell me you are here to give him an orgasm.”
Caught off guard, Kuroo can only stammer. “Ah — that’s not — ah — we’re just friends.”
“‘Friends.’” Pierre’s eyes narrow. “Mon dieu,” he mutters under his breath. “Beautiful men are to be enjoyed, why are you all inventing reasons not to do so?” Then he says to Kuroo, “Come in, Tsukishima’s beautiful man. Stop standing in the hallway. What,” he asks as Kuroo hesitates, “are you afraid of cocks? What is wrong with you all?”
Kuroo follows Pierre into the locker room. He is not afraid of cocks. Quite the opposite.
The Sendai Frogs locker room is, indeed, full of beautiful men in various states of undress. Kyotani is fully naked, beautiful and untouchable as a poison mushroom. Koganegawa is wearing underwear, but it does little to conceal his, uh, considerable assets. Pierre, lean and wiry, tugs off his shirt, and Kuroo is reminded of his first-year-of-high-school crush on Yaku. And then he catches sight of Tsukishima, and everyone else fades into the background.
Tsukki has shed his practice clothes, and stands there in a glory of black compression wear. Tight black shorts, no shirt, and sleeves that run from his wrist to his bicep. It reads like lingerie — sexy volleyball lingerie. He’s not wearing glasses, either, which just adds to Kuroo’s sense of bedroom intimacy.
Suddenly, Kuroo realizes that he’s been staring. With his mouth open. In obvious fascination. Blushing, he closes his mouth and looks down, wondering why Tsukki hasn’t said anything cutting yet.
“Kuroo?” says Tsukishima in a totally normal voice. “Hold on, I can’t see shit.” Tsukishima reaches for his glasses.
Oh thank god. Kuroo nearly slumps in relief. At least Tsukishima hadn’t seen him openly lusting. Although… he glances around the room and meets more than one amused glance. Pierre rolls his eyes and shakes his head, and Kuroo prays for Pierre to stay silent.
“Hey,” Kuroo manages huskily. Then he gets a grip on himself. “Hope it’s okay that I’m in here. Couldn’t let Pierre think I’m afraid of cocks.”
“Oh, of course.” Tsukishima smiles, that slight upturn of the lips that means he’s genuinely amused. “You’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
“Exactly! Glad you understand.”
Tsukishima puts on his glasses — his street glasses, not his sports ones — and meets Kuroo’s eyes. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Kuroo’s mouth goes dry. He deflects. “Nice outfit.”
Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “More of my body is covered! Why has the internet lost its mind?”
“Who cares?” says Kuroo. “The sleeves sell tickets, so the official position of the JVA is that everyone should keep wearing them.”
“Oh, the official position, huh? No personal interest in the matter?”
“I am a consummate professional.”
“You’re obsessed with athletic wear.”
“Look,” says Kuroo, pointing at Tsukishima. “I spent my very gay adolescence surrounded by very attractive athletes. Of course I appreciate the homoeroticism of sports!”
“As you should,” inserts Pierre. “Too bad you’re afraid of cocks.”
Kuroo turns to Pierre in protest. “I am not!”
“Oh, go deep-throat an eclair or something,” says Tsukishima casually. To Kuroo, he adds, “I’m gonna go rinse off. You can stay here and argue with Pierre.” He starts peeling off the sleeves, and Kuroo bites his tongue against the urge to beg him to leave them on.
Then, as Tsukishima leaves the room, Kuroo fights a bizarre urge to stuff the compression sleeves in his pocket. Maybe he could talk Tsukishima into putting them on later… What the hell. Kuroo shakes his head. He is way too horny.
“Ah, Kuroo,” says Pierre. “Excellent taste, but so little brains. You have the kink, for the sleeves?”
“I, um, what? No!”
Koganegawa laughs. “Well, you’re either really into the sleeves, or really into Tsukki, so which is it?”
“Sleeves,” says Pierre, and several others.
“Tsukki,” says Kyotani, and he seems to have the majority on his side.
Kuroo stares around the locker room. “What the hell is going on?”
“That’s what we want to know!” Koganegawa shouts. “What exactly are your intentions?”
“I — we’re friends!”
The entire locker room groans in frustration.
“You’re idiots, is what you are.” Kyotani is glaring at him and it’s a little scary.
“Fucking do something!” someone calls. Kuroo isn’t even sure he knows who it is.
“Be a man!”
“At least ask him out!”
“Don’t just ask him out, get him off!”
“That man needs to get railed!”
“Oh really, I always figured him for a top—”
“And you need to stop being such a chicken!”
“Do you like him or not?”
The whole room goes silent and looks at Kuroo.
“I…” Kuroo can tell that his face is bright red. “I mean…of course I…Tsukki is… I’m not blind, okay?”
“Then what’s the fucking holdup?” Kyotani again.
“It’s not that simple! We’ve been friends for so long, and I…I just…”
“What?!”
“It’s complicated.” Kuroo shakes his head. With as much dignity as he can muster, (which isn’t much), he finishes, “I’m going to wait in the hall.” Catcalls follow him.
He leans his head against the wall. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit.
“You okay?” Kuroo would know that voice anywhere. He turns around.
Tsukki looks, as always put together — long coat, scarf, skinny jeans that somehow fit him perfectly.
“I’m good,” says Kuroo. He can’t help smiling. “You wanna eat?”
“Yeah.” Tsukishima’s eyes seem to linger on Kuroo just a moment too long. “Let’s go.”
***
Eating with Tsukishima is familiar, and easy, and it feels so good. To have all of Tsukishima’s attention; to listen to his acerbic comments and wry asides; to have the pleasure of making him smile, making him laugh. It’s one of Kuroo’s favorite things in the world. I can’t risk this, Kuroo thinks. Not for anything. Not even for the chance of…..
But he doubts himself.
He walks Tsukishima to the bus stop. Tsukishima seems a little distracted, which makes Kuroo feel almost panicky. He wants to squeeze out every second of Tsukishima’s company. Tsukishima isn’t allowed to zone out, it’s not fair.
“Kuroo,” says Tsukishima, interrupting this train of thought. “We have a good time together, right?”
“...yes?” What?
Tsukishima swallows. “Have you ever wondered if…”
The bus pulls up. Kuroo mentally curses the entire Sendai public transportation system. “If what?” he asks urgently.
Tsukishima shrugs, shaking his head. “Good night, I guess.”
Hell no. Kuroo reaches out a hand without really thinking, and grabs Tsukishima’s wrist. “Wait!” Tsukishima stops.
“Sir, are you boarding?” The busdriver is impatient.
Kuroo shakes his head. “Don’t,” he whispers.
With a sigh and a trademark eyeroll, Tsukishima shakes his head. The bus pulls away. “What’s up?” Tsukishima asks. A little too innocently.
“What were you going to say?”
“I forget.” Tsukishima’s lips twitch.
“Liar! You…you…”
Tsukishima snickers.
“You liar! You lying jerk bastard!” Kuroo is caught between outrage and amusement. “What the fuck?!”
“Well,” says Tsukishima, still smiling. “For one thing, I hear you have a kink for the sleeves.”
The conversation in the locker room flashes before Kuroo’s eyes. “Oh my god.”
“I also heard, let’s see. That I need to get railed, and that you need to stop being such a chicken, and that you’re not blind.”
“I…that was….um…” Oh god.
Tsukishima won’t stop smirking. “The showers aren’t that far from the locker room, you know.”
Kuroo takes refuge in half hearted anger. “I did not know! That fucking french bastard. He did it on purpose, didn’t he?”
“Likely yes. Pierre is the root of all evil, after all. But, Kuroo…” A hint of something serious creeps into Tsukishima’s smile. Vulnerability. Hesitation. “You like the sleeves?” he asks quietly.
Kuroo’s heart stops. Everything stops. His eyes are full of Tsukishima’s face. What’s the right thing to say?
“I like you,” Kuroo finally answers, just as quietly.
“Oh.” Tsukishima still looks half-amused. “Well, I like you too. Guess it wasn’t that complicated after all.”
“Shut up.” Kuroo puts his hands over his face. “Oh my god. You’re a menace, all of you! I’m never trusting you again. And I’m telling everyone. Never trust the Sendai Frogs.”
Tsukishima chuckles — a warm, comfortable sound that permeates Kuroo’s entire body. “Yeah, but I think you’ll forgive me.”
“Why? I mean, you’re probably right, but why?”
“Because.” Tsukishima chuckles again, and then Kuroo can feel him move close. Can feel Tsukishima’s breath on his ear, as Tsukki whispers, “I’ve got the compression sleeves on. Right now.” A shaky breath, still in Kuroo’s ear. “So you’d better be coming back to my apartment.”
“Oh. Oh!” Kuroo’s head snaps up. “You’re right. You’re forgiven. Let’s go. What time is the — oh, god damn it!” Kuroo shouts in very real frustration.
“What?”
“We just missed the damn bus!”
Tsukishima laughs, loud and delighted, and he keeps laughing until their lips touch.