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There is a basket of bananas lying on his bed.
A bushel, if you will, because the number of bananas in that basket is completely ridiculous. It’s ornately wrapped and there’s a card attached reading:
To: Sawamura-san. For all of your healthy snacking needs <3 <3.
Daichi sighs through his nose as he fights off the beginnings of a headache. Despite the lack of indication who it’s from, he knows exactly the person to blame. Grabbing the basket, he storms out of his dorm room and knocks curtly on the door across from him. It swings open, revealing a tall, lanky man with wild, black hair and a smile that creates a multitude of conflicting feelings inside Daichi.
“Ah, Sawamura-san. I see you got my thank you gift.”
Nevermind.
His feelings are not, in fact, conflicted, with annoyance rising quickly to the forefront. Pasting on a pleasant smile, he pushes the basket into the man’s chest, definitely not taking petty delight at the slight ‘oof’ he lets out. “I just want to let you know, Kuroo-san, that while your gift is very much appreciated, I don’t need this many bananas. No one needs this many bananas.”
Kuroo does not move to take the basket, instead leaning around it to grin at Daichi. “I’m only trying to look out for your health, Sawamura-san. Eating ramen so much can’t be good for your blood pressure–” his eyes drag down Daichi’s body meaningfully, then back up to his eyes as he winks, “or figure.”
Daichi refuses to let his smile falter, as he continues to push the basket forward, the basket creaking a little in complaint. “Thank you for your concern about my health. However, this… expression of gratitude seems a little excessive considering that all I did was give you a protein bar because you missed lunch.”
Kuroo continues to smile, expression unwavering despite his arms shaking with strain from bracing himself against the doorframe. “But I couldn’t just remain in your debt.”
Daichi barely manages to hold back a massive eye roll. “Believe me, none of that warrants… this.” He punctuates his statement with a more forceful basket push.
“I must respectfully disagree,” Kuroo readjusts his stance to push the basket back, “and insist that as your friend, you graciously accept me repaying you for that favor.” The basket crumples slightly, but it perseveres, (though by this time it’s sweating slightly and wishing it had been a Christmas basket instead… surely those baskets don’t have to deal with this nonsense.)
Huffing out an exasperated breath, Daichi relents on the pressure he’s been inflicting on the poor, over-taxed basket. “That’s really not how being friends works, Kuroo. Or even how being a normal person works. I thought you’d know this, considering you do actually have friends… Though I find myself wondering more and more how that’s the case.”
Kuroo pushes the basket back into Daichi’s arms firmly. “Well, it’s exactly how friendship with me works, Sa’amura. We’re even now—actually, because I got you something better, this shows that I’m nicer than you too.” He smirks. “Nice.”
“I don’t even know where to begin unpacking everything wrong with that statement.” Blowing out a frustrated huff of air, Daichi groans, “I can’t be late for my next class, but you should know one thing.” Kuroo raises an eyebrow, and Daichi levels a savage grin at him. “You won’t get away with this.”
Kuroo chuckles, despite the threat. “Sure, sure. Anyway, you should hurry. It wouldn’t exactly be very nice of me to be the reason why you’re late. Have a nice day Sa’amura-san!” Daichi grits his teeth, forcefully holding onto his smile.
“Of course, Kuroo-san. I hope you have a similarly nice day.” He punctuates this with a basket shove into Kuroo’s arms, who instinctively grabs it with a yelp.
Striding away, Daichi rolls his eyes as he thinks about Kuroo’s determination to somehow turn being a decent human being into a competition. Well. If Kuroo thought he was going to win, he was in for a hell of a wake-up call.
Daichi heaves out a tired sigh as he enters his dorm room, eyes narrowing when he sees a familiar pair of shoes at the doorway. “Kuroo, I know that Suga gave you an extra key… but it was meant for emergency use only.”
“This is an emergency. After all, you’ve completely eclipsed my previous nice deed.”
Daichi silently marvels at the dramatic whine Kuroo put into his voice, completely at odds with his indolent figure stretched out on Daichi’s bed, flipping through a magazine. He breathes a mental sigh of relief that he’d thoroughly hidden his novels of more… questionable taste.
“You have a seriously flawed definition of an emergency,” Daichi snorts, “what is an emergency was you having to miss class because your grandmother was in the hospital. I hope she’s alright, by the way”
Kuroo waves a hand distractedly, “she’s fine—she pulled her shoulder when she hit another skater too hard during her roller derby game. She also told me to make sure I adequately thanked you for your help.” Kuroo hums, pensively tapping his chin. “I’ll have to give you a handwritten thank you note. To start.”
Daichi raises an eyebrow, “All I did was take notes for you in the classes you missed. It was honestly pretty lucky that the day you were out happened to be the day our class schedule was the same.”
“But Sa’amura, you don’t understand.”
Daichi runs a hand over his face, groaning. “I honestly hope I never do, because it would take a very, very special type of person to understand whatever is going on in your mind. Anyway, I’m way too tired for this, so I’m going to say this as nicely as I can: Get out and give me back the extra key. Suga and I are going to have words about why he thought it’d be a good idea to give you one.”
Kuroo smirks unrepentantly. “Suga-chan just has your best interests at heart.” At Daichi’s pointed glare, he finally heaves himself off the bed and strolls towards him.
Daichi holds his hand out expectantly. Kuroo pouts at first, but then grins as he reaches out, his hand encircling Daichi’s own. “Aw, if you wanted to hold hands, all you needed to do was ask.”
“Kuroo.” Daichi grits out, fiercely fighting down the blush that wants to envelop his face.
“Alright, since you asked so nicely, here you go.” Kuroo places the key in Daichi’s hand, closing his fingers around it with a warm squeeze. All thoughts fuzz out of Daichi’s brain when Kuroo leans down to murmur, “pleasant dreams, Sawamura,” into his ear. By the time he’s gathered his wits enough to say something in response, the door’s already closing gently behind Kuroo.
Daichi stares at the door, hand still clenched around the key, wondering whether the fluttering feeling in his stomach is foreboding or simply something bad he’d eaten.
The next morning, Daichi confirms that those flutters were indeed foreboding, as he stares blankly at the envelope outside of his door. It looks entirely too nice to even exist in the carefully curated mediocrity of student dorms. Daichi looks up and down the hallway before picking it up, eyebrows lifting at the thickness and weight of the envelope, before gingerly opening it. His eyebrows raise even further, as his vision is filled with the sight of the perfect calligraphy flowing down the pages. At the sound of a door opening, he looks up and sees Kuroo standing in front of him, sipping at a steaming mug of coffee while holding an absolutely ridiculous bouquet of flowers. Daichi narrows his eyes.
Oh, this means war.
The next evening, Daichi’s strikes back with a box set of hair care products placed in front of Kuroo’s door, with a promise to ‘tame even the most unruly hair’ written across its side. In a flash of terrible inspiration, he’d even drawn a deranged looking cat at the end of the note.
The next morning, Daichi nearly trips over a deceptively plain package with a message in sharpie scrawled across the side, claiming to contain ‘The perfect shorts for those with more athletic legs.’
His cheeks go pink when he reads the note attached to the top of the package, but his eyes narrowed in determination all the same.
The smug rooster head actually thinks he can win.
He is deeply mistaken.
Daichi seizes the initiative by making sure to knock on Kuroo’s door every morning to deliver a piping hot mug of coffee, because he has the hardest time waking up in the morning. Kuroo counters by sneaking a never-ending supply of snacks into his backpack which Daichi resentfully eats. Daichi retaliates by packing Kuroo bentos, because he had a bad habit of skipping meals when he was knee deep in assignments. During volleyball practice, they’re at a standoff, helping each other warm up and cool down, with neither side gaining the advantage.
Regardless of how ridiculous the situation is, Daichi’s pretty certain that he’s winning.
“Hnngh—Kuroo. Wait a second.” Daichi pants out, trying not to tense up despite the burn in his muscles.
Kuroo chuckles, voice as warm as the hands pressing against his thigh. “Relax, Sa’amura. I’ve got you.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about—ngh!” Daichi breaks off with a groan when his leg twinges.
Tsking, Kuroo eases back. “See? This is why stretching thoroughly is so important. I’d never be able to live with myself if you got injured in practice because you improperly stretched.”
Daichi rolls his eyes, feeling the burn in his hamstring when Kuroo pushes his thigh further down to his chest. “You’re really too considerate of me, Kuroo. It’s alright to stop, you’ve proven whatever point you’ve been trying to make.”
“That’s ridiculous Sa’amura, I’m not proving anything. I’m simply a nice person,” Kuroo grins, pressing Daichi’s leg down one more centimeter.
Daichi hisses, willing his muscles to relax into the stretch. “I might believe that, except you don’t usually act this ni-ICE!”
He yelps, shooting a glare at Kuroo who’d pushed his leg that last little distance down. Kuroo grins, unfazed, before motioning for him to switch legs. “That’s not a fair assessment, Sa’amura. We’re friends now, and I’m always nice to my friends.”
“So you’re telling me that Yaku was lying when he told me that you changed all his game IDs to ‘Short King?’”
“Well, clearly Yaku’s not as close a friend as you, considering he can’t keep his mouth shut. Also, I’d like to point out that at least I never pulled a fire alarm because I was busy fighting some—”
Daichi freezes. “How do you know about that?”
Kuroo’s eyes narrow playfully. “Oho? I thought Suga-chan was just pulling my leg. See Sawamura? We’re sharing secrets and everything. Of course we’re close friends.”
“We haven’t shared any secrets. In fact, I’d say you and Suga gossiping behind my back isn’t very nice.”
“Aww, I promise we only say good things. For example, I told him about how you drew me an adorable cat, and—”
Daichi shoots Kuroo a look of disbelief. “Alright, I know the two of you were definitely making fun of me—”
“I think it was cute.” Kuroo hitches Daichi’s leg more securely over his shoulder, leaning even closer. His smile brings back those same fluttery foreboding feelings from before, and Daichi gulps. “Anyway, I’m not going to stop, so you should just accept your fate now.”
The sound of a clearing throat has them both looking up to meet the amused eyes of their team captain. “As interesting as this conversation is, practice officially started five minutes ago. I think a lap of flying receives would help you two get properly focused.”
Daichi flushes brilliantly, immediately scrambling up to apologize. The captain waves it off, gesturing to the edge of the court. Daichi studiously ignores Kuroo’s snickering as they walk off the court. When they get to the edge, Kuroo sweeps his hand out in an extravagant flourish, “After you.”
Daichi simply rolls his eyes, immediately throwing his body into the familiar position of a diving receive. When he pushes himself off the floor he shoots a glance back at Kuroo, who immediately notices his gaze and has the gall to smirk back at him, mouthing ‘focus.’
Gritting his teeth, Daichi immediately throws himself into another diving receive.
He’s absolutely not going to lose to Kuroo.
The next day, Daichi manages to intercept Kuroo when he attempts to sneak into Daichi’s room to grab his laundry. One ear blistering lecture later, they’d called a brief truce, instead opting to do their laundry together.
“Kuroo, I swear to all that’s holy, if you refold something I folded again, I’ll alphabetize your entire bookshelf and color code your notes.”
“But Sawamura, haven’t you heard of the Marie Kondo method? I’m trying to spark joy into your life by folding your shirts the correct way.”
“The only thing that’s sparking right now is the static electricity in your hair. Seriously, I can’t believe hair can do that. C’mere,” Kuroo obligingly bends his head down so that Daichi can fruitlessly attempt to comb down a particularly stubborn cowlick on the side of Kuroo’s head. He’s so focused on this task that he completely misses Asahi coming into the room.
Asahi blinks, halting at the sight in front of him. He looks around the otherwise empty laundry room, realizing with growing dread just why no one else was there. Slowly backing away, his retreat is foiled when Kuroo spots him from over Daichi’s shoulder, “Asahi! You’re just in time for the laundry party.”
Daichi snorts, releasing Kuroo with an annoyed tsk, “Laundry party?”
“I mean, two’s a date, three’s a party, right?”
“What kind of a definition—”
The dryer buzzer cuts off Daichi’s response, while Kuroo turns to the machine to grab his laundry. Asahi determines that discretion is the better part of valor, deciding to keep his head down and sort his laundry rather than poke at whatever that was, though by Daichi’s reddening face and furious grumbling, that was exactly what that looked like.
Seemingly unbothered, Kuroo walks back with his basket of dried laundry, depositing it on the table next to a glaring Daichi with a soft fwump. A combination of curiosity and dread causes Asahi to raise his head, as Kuroo, still ignoring the thunderous look on Daichi’s face, begins poking through the pile, finally pulling out a hoodie with a triumphant flair. Asahi watches, eyes widening when Kuroo turns and pulls the hoodie over Daichi’s head despite his outraged squawk.
Tsking slightly, Kuroo guides Daichi’s arms through the sleeves while Daichi scowls at him. “You really need to start dressing warmer, Sawamura. It’s already October and you’re still going around with only a long sleeve shirt? For shame. I hope you remembered to take the vitamin C supplements in your bag.”
Asahi stares, barely daring to take a breath, waiting for Daichi to lose his temper, but his jaw drops when he instead hears, “Then what about you, Mr. ‘the thermostat should never be below 23 Celcius?’ You should be more worried about yourself. Don’t think I didn’t notice that sniffle earlier. I’m going to pack some ginseng chicken in your bento.”
“Oh, speaking of food, I found this new place I know you’ll love—”
Gaze darting between the two, the pieces rapidly clicked into place and Asahi had to ask.
“When did you two start dating?”
Daichi has the absolute gall to look scandalized, while Kuroo doesn’t even blink, rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie to Daichi’s wrists. “We’re not dating. Daichi’s just way too responsible and nice to care about his own well-being. Plus, I can’t just let him continue to get away with thinking that I’m not a similarly good friend—”
“Don’t even start.” Daichi groans, shooting a significant look right back at Asahi, but he does not interrupt Kuroo’s fussing. “Seriously, Kuroo somehow thinks that being a good friend is some sort of a competition—”
“No I don’t! …But if it were, I’d be winning—”
“That is an absolutely insane way to view friendship—”
Asahi turns back to his laundry, tuning out their flirting bickering. He wonders whether it’s too late in the year to get a transfer.
The pouring rain outside his lecture hall looks as gloomy as Daichi feels. He was not looking forward to doing yet another run in the rain to get back to his dorm room. He sighs, slumping against a nearby pillar. Today had been exceptionally bad from start to finish. He’d pulled an all-nighter to finish a project for his social psychology class but in his exhaustion, had neglected to charge his phone, so his alarm hadn’t gone off. He ended up sprinting into his chemistry lecture 20 minutes late, only to find out that the professor had given a pop quiz. When he’d shamefacedly asked the professor for the quiz, the professor refused due to his tardiness. All he could do was sit there, ears burning, while the other students completed their quizzes. Trudging out of the building, he’d been met with pouring rain and of course, he’d forgotten to bring his umbrella, so by the time he made it to his next class, he was absolutely soaked.
Which brings him to now, still without an umbrella, but he’s gained a headache and chills. Pushing himself up from the pillar with a groan, Daichi hitches his backpack up, trying to psych himself up to step out into the deluge.
“Sawamura!”
Daichi sluggishly turns his head, “Kuroo?”
Kuroo jogs over to him, panting slightly, “Were you seriously going to run out into that without an umbrella?”
“Well, I don’t really have a choice, since the forecast says it’s not going to stop anytime soon, and I’d really like to get back to my dorm room and not come back out for the entire weekend.”
“Bad day?”
A dry laugh. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“Well, how about you tell me about it while we go back to the dorms? I’ve got an umbrella big enough to fit both of us—even with your shoulders.” Kuroo opens his umbrella, extending his arm in a gallant invitation.
And it really speaks to how tired Daichi must be, because he can’t even muster a retort, his throat entirely too tight to try to speak. Instead, he just nods, stepping into the welcoming warmth of Kuroo’s arm.
It’s quiet at first, the only sound coming from the passersby and the raindrops hitting the umbrella and pavement. Daichi swallows hard, opening his mouth, intending to just brush off his earlier mood.
“Kuroo…”
However, when he meets Kuroo’s eyes, he finds himself spilling everything that had happened that day. By the time they make it back to their dorm, he’s so exhausted—both physically and mentally, that he doesn’t even protest when Kuroo walks him in and begins badgering him into the shower. When he emerges, finally warmed up, Kuroo’s waiting with a mug of steaming hot tea and a hair dryer. He nods off part way through, only making it into his bed because of Kuroo’s gentle insistence.
Daichi sleeps for nearly 12 hours and when he wakes up, his headache is completely gone. He stretches. A scrap of paper on his desk catches his eye.
‘Sawamura, since you didn’t have dinner, I thought you’d be pretty hungry when you woke up. I’m visiting home this weekend, but I have some meals in my fridge ready for whenever you feel up to it. Just let yourself in with the key.’
Daichi stares at the note, his hand curling around the key that had been wrapped in it. A ping from his laptop catches his attention, and he shuffles over to it, noticing that he’d gotten a new email from his chemistry professor. He hesitantly clicks on it, freezing after he reads it. He shakes his head and reads it again, but the message is unchanged.
‘Sawamura-kun, a rather insistent student came to my office, explaining that your tardiness was due to assisting them with a personal emergency. Had you explained this earlier, I would have allowed you to take the quiz. You can take the makeup this Monday during my office hours and…”
The words blur in front of Daichi’s eyes, and he has to look away, blinking hard. His gaze drops down to the slightly crumpled note and key still in his hand.
Oh no.
Daichi’s really in trouble, isn’t he?
Upon realizing his… ugh. Feelings for Tetsurou, Daichi decides that the best course of action is, of course, to ignore it.
He'll eventually get over it, and no one will have to be any the wiser about his temporary flirtation with insanity. Once Daichi’s over this little hiccup, he can get right back to focusing on his schoolwork, volleyball, and occasional bouts of guiltily reading trashy fiction that had entirely too many descriptions of ‘heaving bosoms, glistening orbs, and throbbing members.’ (He blames Shimizu entirely.)
He'll get over it the minute Tetsurou stops looking so happy whenever Daichi shows up at his door in the morning. Or stops looking at him with that little crooked smile of his. Or stops looking at him, period.
He'll get over it.
He totally will.
And he’ll even win their little ‘niceness’ competition to boot.
Piece of cake.
“Daichi.” Despite only saying his name, Suga’s voice could desiccate a cactus.
Daichi winces when Sugawara and Asahi continue to stare at him judgmentally as he attempts to fit another cat-shaped wagashi inside of the last tier of the three-tiered bento box he’d made. He can totally fit it—he just needs to squish the tummy a little and—
“Just ask him out already!”
Feigning deafness, Daichi continues fiddling with the bento.
“Your courtship ritual by doing aggressively nice things for each other is driving me absolutely crazy, and I’m not even here the majority of the time, so I can’t even imagine what everyone else is going through. My phone has been blowing up from all the texts I’ve been getting from everyone who’s had the misfortune to have a front seat to this entire shit shown. Show some pity, start dating, and spare us all from your weird mating rituals.” Suga snaps out irritably, as Asahi nods frantically in the background,
Daichi swallows, adjusting the cat wagashi again. “It really isn’t like that.”
“Daichi, I know you’re dense, but you can’t seriously believe that.” Suga rolls his eyes.
“Believe what?” Daichi stares down at the bento with suspiciously burning eyes, “That this is the best situation for everyone? Because at least this way, no one gets hurt?” He sets the chopsticks down with a firm clack, looking up to meet Suga and Asahi’s eyes. “I came out to my parents, and look how well that turned out. Why do you think I left Sendai? But Tetsurou? I can’t… I won’t do that to him.”
Both Suga and Asahi look like they’ve been slapped. “Do you really believe Kuroo would do that?” Asahi asks softly.
Daichi sighs, grabbing the bento’s lid before putting it in place. “I don’t have it in me to put him in that position.” He attempts to pull a smile on his face. From how Suga and Asahi look, he probably failed. “Sorry. For bothering everyone.” He ignores Suga’s sharp inhale, “I just thought that… If we just stayed like this… At least I could still make him happy.”
After that conversation, Suga must have relayed Daichi’s words to everyone. And by everyone he meant everyone. The reason he knows this is the next morning, the moment he opens his door, he’s met with Tetsurou, a thunderous expression on his face. Daichi backpedals into his room, but Tetsurou follows, shutting the door just shy of a slam and locking it. The minute he thrusts his phone into Daichi’s face, showing Suga’s text, Daichi’s heart sinks to his knees.
“Daichi,” Tetsurou begins, and then has to stop, as he groans, ruffling his hair into an even bigger mess. He starts again. “Daichi, you’re a really smart guy, but also somehow the biggest idiot that could ever exist.”
“That’s… Not very nice of you to say.” Daichi counters weakly, trying to back away cautiously. If he comes out of this whole situation unscathed, he’s going to have words with Suga.
“Fine. It might not be nice, but I’m being truthful.” Tetsurou snaps.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re probably uncomfortable knowing I feel that way.” Daichi blinks hard to ward off the sudden burning in his eyes, “I just… I just wanted to make you happy.” He swallows hard around the lump of words in his throat.
“...You already do.” Tetsurou’s gaze is nearly too heavy to bear, “So why can’t you let me bring you as much happiness as you bring to me?”
“But that’s different—”
“You know, my grandmother told me I’d better introduce you to her the next time that I visit or she’ll use me as a practice dummy for her roller derby team. If we date, you’ll be saving my life, which would mean that you’ll definitely win in our ‘who’s nicer’ competition.” Tetsurou interrupts his attempted retreat with a crooked smile.
And Daichi absolutely cannot with this ridiculous man. “I knew it! I knew it was a competition this entire time—”
“Daichi.” And dammit, that look in Tetsurou’s eyes really isn’t fair.
He rallies valiantly. “But—”
“Please.”
Ah.
He really never had a chance of victory, did he?
Finally, he surrenders. “Are you sure?”
Tetsurou’s smile is breathtaking. “Do you really have to ask?”
Daichi reaches out to grasp his hand, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Well, it’s better to be sure, considering how you’ve been secretly competing with me for nearly a year to prove who’s nicer.”
A glint appears in Tetsurou’s eyes, “Speaking of ‘nice,’ do you know what would be really nice?”
In answer, Daichi pulls him down into a hungry kiss that has Tetsurou groaning into his mouth and his hands twisting into his hair.
He’s a nice person, after all.