Work Text:
THE REASON THE ONLY CULINARY ESTABLISHMENT I PREFER TO FREQUENT IS LE PETIT PEPE: A TRAGEDY ABOUT MY LACK OF WHIPPED ICE CREAM DESSERT ON THIS HERE SATURDAY AFTERNOON
by Iwaizumi Hajime
DON’T GET ME WRONG. I KNOW GOOD RESTAURANTS EXIST. I KNOW GOOD BAKERIES EXIST. I KNOW GOOD COFFEE SHOPS EXIST. I KNOW ALL OF THESE EXIST, AND THAT NOT ALL OF THESE ARE LE PETIT PEPE, THAT AMALGAMATION OF ALL THINGS HEAVENLY THAT CAN GO INSIDE ONE’S MOUTH WITH THE EXCEPTION OF KUROO TETSUROU’S MIRACULOUS [Editor’s note: Censored, just no.] WHICH I HEAR CAN BE NEGOTIATED ANYWAY. I KNOW GRANRODEO MUST PLAY IN SOME OTHER PLACES TOO. I AM COGNISANT OF ALL OF THIS.
HOWEVER, NONE OF THIS TAKES AWAY FROM THE FACT THAT HAD I CHOSEN MY USUAL ROUTE, WHICH LEADS ME DOWN A GOLDEN BRICK ROAD TO LE PETIT PEPE, I WOULD NOT BE SITTING HERE RIGHT NOW WITH THIS MISERABLE EXCUSE OF AN ICE CREAM DESSERT IN MY HANDS. NO, I MEAN, THIS MCFLURRY FUCKING SUCKS. IT SUCKS ASS.
FIRSTLY, I BELIEVE IN JUSTICE. WITH THIS IN MIND, I’M TELLING Y’ALL THAT THE BLAME FOR ALL OF THIS RESTS, NOT ON THE COLLECTIVE WEARY SHOULDERS OF THE CAMPUS MCDONALD’S EMPLOYEES, BUT RATHER ON THOSE OF JUST ONE, OIKAWA TOORU. IT IS NOT AT THE HANDS OF THE OTHER MCDONALD’S EMPLOYEES, BUT RATHER OIKAWA TOORU, THAT THE MCFLURRY MACHINE MET ITS DESTRUCTION.
SOMETIMES I THINK ABOUT GOD AND MAN. I FEEL LIKE WHEN MAN GETS TOO ARROGANT OF THE POWER HE WIELDS, GOD SHOWS HIM HIS PLACE. IN THIS CASE, I BASICALLY MEAN Gecko Tooru, WHO CAN SENSE WHEN HIS DESIGNATED HOMO SAPIEN SAPIEN IS GETTING OUT OF HAND (WHICH IS MOST OF THE TIME), AWAKENS FROM SACRED SLUMBER ON CHOICE DAYS TO FUCK ALL THE SHIT UP.
I, A CHOSEN WITNESS TO TODAY’S HOLY SPECTACLE, SIT HERE IN AWE AS I THINK OF THE SCENE. THE DULCET MURMURS OF NOONTIME FAST FOOD JOINTS, COMBINED WITH THE GENTLE HISSING AND WHIRRING OF THE SOFT DRINK MACHINES, AND THAT OF THE GLORIOUS MCFLURRY, THE ONLY DESSERT THAT LE PETIT PEPE CANNOT PROVIDE, FOR WANT OF REPLICATING ITS RIPE-WITH-CAPITALISM FLAVOUR. THE SMELL OF DEEP-FRIED FOOD AND THAT ONE NEW DEODORANT THAT CAME OUT LAST MONTH.
THE HUMBLE HAJIME, WEAK WITH LOW BLOOD SUGAR, STOOD AT THE COUNTER FACING THE TYRANT. “AN OREO MCFLURRY, PLEASE.”
“❀Will that be all?❀” [Editor’s note: Look, Oikawa really talks like that.]
“YES.”
“❀I’ll get it right away!❀”
CONFUSION. “WHAT OF MY PAYMENT?”
“❀On the house for you, handsome.❀”
NOW, I KNEW, INTIMATELY, THE ROMANTIC ADVANCES OF OIKAWA TOORU, AND I KNEW THAT OFTENTIMES Gecko Tooru STEPPED FORWARD TO CORRECT HIS WAYS. ALREADY REGRETTING MY CHOICE OF RESTAURANT, I PUT MY FAITH IN THE GENTLE REPTILIAN DEITY AND HE CAME THROUGH.
AS THE INGRATE ATTACHED THE MIXING SPOON TO THE SPINDLE OF THE MACHINE (WHICH, BY THE WAY, EVERY TIME I GO TO A MCDONALD’S I SEE AT LEAST ONE STUPID KID WHO THINKS THE SPOON IS A STRAW AND SITS THERE SUCKING AT IT AND LOOKING RIDICULOUS) OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR Gecko Tooru, WHO, AS I UNDERSTAND, IS NOT PERMITTED AT THE WORKPLACE, SNUCK OUT OF THE APRON POCKET AND PROCEEDED TO JUMP TO THE NEIGHBOURING SOFT DRINK MACHINE. MUCH LIKE A KITTEN PLAYS GENTLY OVER A PIANO IN THOSE TUMBLR GIF’S, THE CHAMELEON DARTED ACROSS THE BUTTONS OF THE MACHINE AND WITH SURPRISING FORCE, SETTLED HIS SCALY ASS ON THAT OF THE COCA COLA.
WHAT HAPPENED NEXT IS AN EASY GUESS. OIKAWA, STEPPING TO RECUPERATE THE GREAT LIZARD, SLIPPED ON THE SPILLED COCA COLA WITHOUT LETTING GO OF THE SPOON, WHICH WAS ATTACHED TO THE SPINDLE. OFF CAME THE SPINDLE WITH A FANTASTIC SOUND, AND NOW I’M FUCKING SITTING HERE WITH AN UNMIXED FLURRY. I HAVE HEARD TALES OF UNFORTUNATE COUNTRIES WHERE THEY DO NOT HAVE MACHINE-MIXED FLURRIES, BUT NEVER DID I IMAGINE THAT I WOULD ONE DAY SIT HERE WITH A FUCKING UNMIXED FLURRY.
“❀Oh my fucking God!❀” THE BOY HAD SAID. “❀That’s coming out of my paycheque.❀”
“MAYBE NOW YOU’LL HIT ON ME LESS.”
●●●
On an average — no, really, nothing about this is average. There is absolutely nothing about this entire situation that Kei would consider average, and hence he doesn't even wish to mention what he would've done if this had been an average day.
The first point is the fact that regardless of the currently-relaxed nature of his schedule, he does prefer to wake up early in the mornings to get work done. However, he has his limits too, and 5 AM is really crossing them. Additionally, he has custom limits set for the amount of nonsense he will accept from Bokuto Koutarou, and these coincide with the limit of 6 AM being the earliest he will wake up voluntarily. 5 AM and Bokuto has some photoshoot are both regions of great discomfort for Kei, or at least they were, back in happier times one hour ago when he thought that a mild headache was a huge problem.
Now, however, as he looks at this absolute apocalypse of a scene, he realises how naïve he had been, one hour ago, to think that it would be his only problem. Here, in the living room of Bokuto's apartment, lie the shattered remains of Kei's dignity, happiness, and life in general.
'This is a whole bunch of shit,' Kuroo says. He doesn't sound anywhere near as annoyed about it being a whole bunch of shit as he should be. In fact, there is a grin on his face, not unlike the one he sported last week when he stole Kei's headphones from under his nose after hurting his delicate ears with a Bohemian Rhapsody cover after getting his order of a raspberry muffin wrong after nearly running him over with a cherry red Prius. There are levels of unfair circumstances, and then there is whatever you can call this.
'I mean,' Bokuto is saying from the kitchen (where he is pretending to make coffee but is actually hiding from Kei's wrath, as Kei is well-aware), 'if you look at it logically, when I kindly invited the two of you to work on my project with me, I was not aware that you had managed to make enemies out of each other.'
'He's not my enemy,' Kuroo says.
'I don't think about him enough to classify him as a nemesis,' Kei lies. (Whether he’s lying about the not-thinking-about-Kuroo part or the classifying-as-nemesis part or both, he knows not.) 'However, if you remember, I didn't want to do your stupid shoot in the first place and now you've gone and made him my partner. He stole my headphones, Bokuto.'
'I—'
'Right in the car he stole them.' Kei refuses to let his voice waver; he will not bow in front of Kuroo. 'In the car. With which he tried to kill me. The cherry red Prius, Bokuto.'
'In my defence—'
'There is no defence,' Kei says to Kuroo. 'There is no defence for what you did. It was six in the morning and I was tired and hungover and you almost plastered me to the road. And then you got my muffin wrong. And then you sang Bohemian Rhapsody—'
'Hey, he doesn't just sing for anyone, you know--'
'And I'm really glad he doesn't. It's in the better interests of humanity.'
'What?' Bokuto actually comes out of the kitchen at that, looking genuinely shocked. 'You don't think he sings well?'
At this, Kei observes an interesting exchange between the two friends (best friends, as he is belatedly coming to realise, not without confusion as to why he didn't find out about Kuroo before). Kuroo clears his throat, and Bokuto turns to him with raised eyebrows. Kuroo makes a vague hand gesture in Kei's direction and shrugs, and Bokuto drops one eyebrow. Kuroo shrugs again and pulls a sturgeon, and Bokuto gets a look of utter delight on his face that terrifies Kei.
'I see. Yes, it's sad,' he says, turning back to Kei. 'He's got a terrible voice.'
'I...yes,' Kei says uncertainly. 'I mean...and then, then he stole my headphones.'
'But I dropped you home.'
'Do I really need to recount the entire—'
'Okay, this could go on forever,' Bokuto says, raising his hands as he settles on the couch. 'We're not on a sitcom. Sit your asses down and keep quiet if you can't say anything nice, I'm catsitting for Kenma and I don't want that thing from hell to wake up and sink his claws into my ass.'
'I'll sink my claws into your ass,' Kuroo mutters, and that doesn't even sound like a threat. 'How come Kenma didn't leave Count Dracula with me? He's my neighbour.'
'He knows which one of us is more responsible.'
'Are you kidding? You smoked his cat food once, Koutarou.'
'DISREGARD THAT.'
Kei stares at the floor. Under the coffee table there is a bunch of photographs, presumably of the disc jockey Bokuto is always raving about. On top of the coffee table there are the proverbial remains of last night's pizza, a laptop with a wallpaper that is also presumably of the disc jockey, and also a box of cat food that Bokuto will hopefully refrain from smoking this time.
For all that he is addicted to parties and disaster, Bokuto keeps a relatively clean household. Kei wouldn't even call it surprising; Bokuto's never actually come across as a conventionally messy type. An affinity for apocalyptic situations doesn't mean his couch can't be spotless (although he's pretty sure it was Hinata who covered the damage for that one; he distinctly remembers incidences of projectile vomiting last week).
'Tsukishima? Tsukki?'
'Pardon?' he's almost asleep again.
'Coffee.'
'I could make better coffee at the café,' Kuroo says. 'This is some instant trash.'
'Listen, Lord Tamaki,' Bokuto snaps. 'When you know the hell I've been through in the past couple of days—'
'Something that you totally brought upon yourself—'
'Cut my brewing skills some slack. I have measurements to complete and Saeko isn't even here yet.'
'Speaking of which,' Kei says, after downing his espresso. 'What is the shoot about? More importantly, how long will I have to tolerate it? Do I have to wear leotards?'
'There's an image,' Kuroo says. Kei glares at him. Kuroo grins back. Kei glares harder, and conducts an internal battle against covering his face yet again. (The fact that this is becoming simply too regular considering that this is their second meeting has not been lost on Kei; but he doesn't quite know what he's going to do about that. Yet. He thinks.) 'What? I'm serious. You've got long legs.'
'So have you,' Kei snaps after he realises he has nothing else to retort with. 'They're really muscly. Whatever.'
They are. Kuroo is wearing these jeans that should be specifically marketed under the label Must Not Be Worn By Kuroo Because They Fit Too Well and to say that they, well, fit too well, would be a severe understatement of the quality of unjustness that Kei refuses to partake of. Yes, Kuroo's legs look amazing. Yes, he is aware that he shouldn't be remarking this.
Not to mention the shirt. Apparently Kuroo is one of those very dangerous people who like to roll the sleeves of their V necks up to their elbows and let them sit there to announce the glory of their tanned arms. It's honestly as if Kuroo is sitting on this couch to upset Kei with his hair and his smile, constantly reminding him of those first thirty seconds at the café when he thought Kuroo was cute.
'No leotards?' he says, turning to Bokuto, who shakes his head.
'No leotards. It's a Leyendecker-based shoot—'
'Who's that?'
'One of Bokuto's favourite artists,' Kuroo says. 'Lots of men, lots of suits.'
'I have two paintings in mind that I'd like to replicate,' Bokuto says, reaching over for his laptop. 'There's one where the two of you will have mostly similar suits, and one where Kuroo's got a bit of a costume.'
'Do I get a cane?!'
'You get a cane.'
Kuroo lets out a delighted laugh and Kei clears his throat, leaning over instead to look at the images Bokuto has fired up. One of two men in fancy black suits, in discussion; the second of two men on a couch, both differently dressed. Kei can instantly tell which one he is going to play the part of; Bokuto probably thought of him as the first person to go to whose bleached hair matched the blond in the painting — except Kei knows that Bokuto's planning goes much beyond the basics.
To think that Bokuto thought he would be matched with Kuroo for this shoot makes Kei want to smile. Almost. He'd almost smile if not for the memory of his scorned headphones, kidnapped and abused and probably covered with flour.
'This is nice,' he says to Bokuto, 'but I won't co-operate until Kuroo returns my headphones.'
'Nope,' Kuroo sings immediately. 'You're not getting the headphones back until you come to the café.'
'I have work—!'
'What's all this noise first thing in the morning?!'
●●●
Kuroo Tetsurou is...something. He's definitely something.
As amazing as it is to even Kei to relay, not only do they manage to finish the work he was rudely awoken at 5 AM for (Saeko is quick with her measuring tape and promises delivery of suits that'll fit like they're made for you because well they literally are by next week) but he also ends up not really regretting the fact that he woke up at 5 AM when most people of his age would either be passed out under their covers or not even asleep yet.
However, that is not the most amazing bit of it all. No. Kei has now understood that this is not going to be a regular month for him, surrounded with peace and prosperity and a third item beginning with p that he cannot bring forward to his frazzled brain at the moment. The reason he cannot bring forward to his frazzled brain a third item beginning with p is because he is sitting on a barstool at Le Petit Butt at 7 in the morning, again, and across the counter is Kuroo Tetsurou. (He found out the boy's first name from an exasperated Bokuto, who employed it in an exhale when Kuroo refused to stop laughing about the fact that Kei wasn't aware about Saeko and Bokuto's history.)
'Oh, child, come to me sometime,' Kuroo had said, laughing that laugh of his that Kei doesn't like. 'I have so many things to tell you.'
In fact, the telling of the so many things is what is going on at the moment, and Kei can't even begin to register any of it, let alone process the potential blackmail gold that Kuroo is handing over to him (along with a raspberry muffin, this time). He is still trying to understand how he reached here in the first place, but he can't gather much information beyond the idea that Tanaka Saeko and Bokuto Koutarou were involved, and that Bokuto mentioned something about sacrificing his life's secrets and Count Dracula’s wrath just to get Kei his headphones back. Kei's grateful. He thinks.
'After a certain point,' Kuroo is saying as Kei stares at him and his muffin in turns, 'we started answering all questions with swag. Why? Swag. It got so bad that I made us make a pact to stop saying it.'
'Did it work?' Kei asks faintly.
'It worked,' comes the solemn answer.
'Congratulations, I suppose.' Kei takes a bite of his muffin and realises that it is a very good muffin. He really doesn't want to know if Kuroo baked it because he's had more than enough of Kuroo-related trauma for the day. He honestly hopes that this isn't going to be a regular affair; if he's going to be meeting this guy and being exposed to his dangerously charismatic radiation without warning, he'd rather that it at least be at times of the day when he can handle this kind of stress and not always in the wrong end of the morning. 'So, I am here because...'
'A number of reasons,' Kuroo says, straightening up and putting his hands on his hips. 'One, you have little to no regard for my company and are only here to retrieve your headphones. Two, Bokuto thinks if he puts me through the same blushing and nervousness shit that he himself went through with Akaashi, he'll sleep better tonight. Three, Saeko kind of pushed you out of the apartment and forced you to come here.'
'And Count Dracula,' Kei says. 'Count Dracula woke up. That was the principal reason, I think.'
Kei has always heard about dramatically named felines but never has he come across a creature so deserving of its title. Count Dracula, prowling outside the kitchen after having been woken up by Saeko's less-than-gentle comments on Kei's posture, had taken great offence to Kei's presence in its temporary household. There was a baring of the fangs and a hissing of the breath, after which the thing promptly launched itself at Kei's face with the sole aim to decimate.
In retrospect, Kuroo stepping in to take the worst of the nail-scrabbling could be viewed as some sort of heroic feat, a brave act born only out of selfless instinct. Kei supposes he should be grateful. He thinks. Also, it is kind of nice of Kuroo. Very nice, actually. This combined with his face — even sporting the two scratches it is, or rather, now that it sports the two scratches it does — makes him about sixty percent on the way to clearing his slate as far as the Near Death by Cherry Red Prius and headphones stealing is concerned.
Perhaps the beginning of it all should be attributed to the entry of Saeko, upon which Kuroo and Bokuto had immediately frozen, with a degree of fear on their countenances that alerted Kei to the presence of a very terrifying individual.
'S-Saeko! How nice of you to come at such an inconvenient time, to, to my humble abode at s-such a short notice, I must—'
'You've been asking Ryuunosuke to ask me to help you for a week.’ When Kei finally turned around to look at her, he’d instantly recognised Tanaka’s wild face and sharp teeth, pierced eyebrows raised. 'And I'm the one who told you to keep your ass ready at six because I have work after.'
'Of course!' Bokuto squeaked. 'Of course, you're right, I — ah, yes, meet Tsu-Tsukishima, my neighbour—'
'Nice to meet you, cutie! I'm sorry these two reeled you into this bullshit right in the morning.'
'We must all do what we must to get by.’ Kei had decided not to bring up the fact that he was being blackmailed from both sides into doing this. 'I'm just glad I'm not wearing leotards.'
'I wish you were wearing leotards,' Kuroo had said, to the utter lack of reaction from Kei. He would not warrant the boy with a reaction, no, he refused to. Even if his face had been heating up. He would not cover it. He would not. He hasn't so far, so there was no reason to give in then of all times, with two more witnesses.
'Anyway!' Kei had always thought that the only person capable of making Bokuto go beyond his usual level of exaggerated melancholy to full-blown panic was the disc jockey (who he must meet and congratulate for the stellar expression Bokuto's been sporting for the past two days) but apparently Tanaka Saeko belongs to another category of individuals altogether, one that transcends all humanly tangles and complications. A useful person to befriend, definitely. 'We-we could. Hi. The measurements.'
'It's sad,' Saeko sighed. 'I remember when you used to be more eloquent than this. You disappoint me.'
'He was,' Kuroo said. 'But that was before you dumped a pitcher of ice on his head and kicked him out of Vertigo.'
●●●
'You're welcome, by the way,' he says now, pointing to the scratches on his cheekbone. Kei wishes they didn't look so attractive.
'Oh, yeah,' he mumbles. 'Thanks. I'm not too fond of animals.'
'Count Dracula isn't too fond of humans, either. Except for Kenma and Lev.'
Kei hasn't really heard either of those names but he goes along with it, taking another bite of his not-delicious-at-all muffin. The thought of last time's blackberry one takes him back to Akiteru automatically, so he clears his throat and shrugs himself out of it. 'So, what do you study?'
'Management,' Kuroo says. 'Your permanently-pissed face suggests you're in economics.'
'Indeed,' Kei says darkly. 'You can imagine why I wasn't in the best of humour that morning. When you nearly ran me over.'
'With my cherry red Prius, yes, I know the drill.' Kuroo leans over to grab a packet of sugar from the far end of the counter, opening it into Kei's latte cup. 'How do you know that was intentional, though?'
'I didn't say it was!'
'Oho?' Kuroo pauses the stirrer and raises an eyebrow. 'How do you know that wasn't intentional, though?'
Kei opens his mouth, then shuts it, then opens it again, and leaves it that way this time. Kuroo's slowly getting that stupid smirk on his face again, and Kei is quickly losing whatever good humour he had gathered so far. 'I — well, I mean—'
'Maybe I saw how cute you are and all this is just an elaborate plot to get your number,' the horrid boy says, looking so audacious in that pink shirt of his that for the first time Kei's impulse to hide his face is contested by an equally strong impulse to throw the hot latte into Kuroo's. 'You know, foolproof pick-up. Nearly kill the guy, get his order wrong, sing his ears off and steal his headphones. You can see why the world is just lining up outside to date me.'
It should be, honestly.
The emergence of this thought horrifies Kei to such an extent that he grabs the cup from Kuroo's hands mid-stir and gulps down half of it, schooling his features to remain stoic through the obvious tongue burn. 'Um. So, the headphones.'
'Still in my car,' Kuroo says. 'I'll give them to you when I drop you home.'
'That was absolutely not part of the deal!' Kei splutters. 'I refuse to sit in that thing again!'
'Even if I promise to drive slow?'
'Even so!'
'Even if I promise to go onto the highway and put on some Swedish House Mafia?'
'...e-even so!'
'Even though it looks like rain?'
Kei immediately looks outside and indeed, the sky is overcast, which he didn't notice on the way to the café. He can't stop himself; he feels a little smile on his lips and when he turns back to Kuroo, it is mirrored on his.
'I knew you'd be that rainy type,' he says, and Kei looks down into his latte. 'So, what say?'
'If I get the aux cord,' Kei says after a moment, and when he dares to look up, Kuroo's grin is the most heartwarming and triumphant thing he has ever seen.
●●●
Bokuto [07:01]
HOWS IT GOIN SUNSHINE
Me [07:01]
No.
Bokuto [07:02]
COUNT DRACULAS ASLEEP AGAIN, U WANNA HANG?
Me [07:04]
Umm, I’m kind of busy. Maybe later today?
Bokuto [07:05]
wait
Bokuto [07:05]
send me a selfie
Me [07:06]
What? No. Why?
Bokuto [07:06]
Just do it.
Me [07:06]
No.
Bokuto [07:07]
You are seated in Kuroo Tetsurou’s prunus-avium coloured Toyota-make motor vehicle, are you not, Tsukishima?
Me [07:08]
Did you just Wiki all of that? And no. I am not.
Bokuto [07:08]
UR FUKCIN IN KUROOS FUCKING CAR THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE
●●●
Kei loves rain. The dimness of the sky is kind to his migraines, the smell of the ground takes him away from the city briefly, and his parents died on a sunny day anyway. It isn't really that he's deathly afraid of sitting in cars, but that glare of sunlight against the windshield makes him nervous sometimes, and when it’s raining he can overlook the slipperiness of the road in favour of blocking out the idea of how bright glass can shine under the sun, which it, at the least, wouldn't in the rain.
Sitting in the passenger seat of the cherry red Prius again, Kei realises something that he hadn't last time — that regardless of his general attitude towards travel, he had no qualms about getting into this car with a stranger last time, and has none about getting into it with a not-quite-stranger this time either. The confusion this brings is overridden by the casual comfort that he feels while buckling his seatbelt, and so he resolves not to overthink it (a feat, for him).
'So am I going to have to put up with three different remixes of Save the World, or...?' Kei observes the curl of his fingers on the leather of the steering wheel, the flex of his legs as he puts them into position. His skin and build is perfect for a flashy car like this one, and Kei thinks he might put on three different remixes of Save the World just to see him laugh again.
The fourth hour of having been acquainted with Kuroo isn't quite the time to be in so deep about his ways of expressing amusement, but Kei thinks this might be one of those cases where he should just Let Things Go (he always hears that in Yamaguchi's voice, and honestly, he can't wait for the boy to return from his week home so that he can complain heartily about the unfolding of all these events over vodka and cookies). So he shakes his head and says 'What if I don't end up playing Swedish House Mafia at all and put on Justin Bieber instead?'
'I will leave this car right now.'
'Elvis Presley?'
'That I can live with.'
'Miyavi?'
'I guess.'
'Queen?'
Kuroo brightens up. 'GOLD.'
'And my headphones?'
'In the glove compartment.'
'And if I took them and left?'
'You'd miss out on a fun drive, but your choice.'
Kei looks at the glove compartment and smiles, then reaches for the cord. 'I'm only playing We are the Champions once, mind you.'
Kuroo keeps staring ahead, out at the parking lot with its scattered vehicles and the rain already falling in a gentle patter, but Kei sees him smile. Crooked, showing teeth, and his grip on the wheel changes just a little. 'We'll see about that.'
●●●
Bokuto [07:36]
ur still with him arent u
Bokuto [07:36]
u heathen
Me [07:38]
I am having a decent morning, no thanks to you or that abominable cat, and he actually does know how to drive.
Bokuto [07:39]
DONT DISS COUNT DRACULA HE CAN HEAR U IN HIS SLEEP
Me [07:41]
Let me find excuses to like your best friend in peace, Bokuto.
●●●
Not that he needs many. Excuses, that is; they shouldn't be called those because honestly, in the way Kuroo mouths along to the lyrics of no matter what song Kei puts on, and in the way his handling of the wheel is lazy and confident, and in the way Kuroo talks, Kei would more likely find entire theses and not just permission slips about why he was moderately mistaken about his second impression of the boy. It doesn't go to say that Kuroo doesn't have that annoying streak, or that he might reliably refrain from irritating Kei in the future...but it just goes to say that perhaps all of that, combined with all of this, might not be so bad.
And it also goes to say that Kei is doing exactly the opposite of what he (and Yamaguchi's voice in his mental collection of vinyls of people saying various catchphrases to him, along with Bokuto's YEAH MAN EXACTLY and Akiteru's whatever you want) had told himself to do: that is, Let Things Go. He finds himself in the same position fifteen minutes later, listening to Kuroo talk about Iwaizumi the Angry Review Guy's latest piece on McFlurries, a region of his brain sectioned off into thinking how absurd this is, and how absurd it is that he doesn't mind the absurdity of it.
Maybe he should stop minding that he doesn't mind it and just stop looking at Kuroo instead, maybe look out the window onto the road and take in his favourite phenomenon with his favourite music playing, and hope that Kuroo is one of those people who don't mind taking endless turns to elongate a drive. Maybe he really should Let Things Go.
'Earth to Tsukishima,' Kuroo's saying. 'You're really not a morning person, are you?'
'Did you make the raspberry muffin?'
Kuroo blinks, then nods. 'I did.'
Kei stops looking at him, then. He revels in the satisfaction he gets when he feels Kuroo's gaze on him as he leans his head against the window.
'It was nice,' he says.