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It’s familiar—the sound of water filling the sink, of dishes clinking against one another as they fall to the bottom. Whenever Kuroo puts his hand underneath the soapy water to fish out a plate, Kenma finds himself nervous that he would accidentally cut himself on a knife, even though they never put anything sharp in there in the first place. It’s irrational, but he can’t help it.
There’s also this, this warm feeling in his chest when their fingers brush as Kuroo hands him a dish to dry. A tingly sensation washing over him like tiny volts of electricity throughout his body. It’s irrational, but he can’t help it.
This is secretly one of his favorite times. Maybe this is the reason he always lets his dishes pile up until Kuroo comes over and helps him with it—but not after scolding him first.
“Don’t you know this is how molds form?”
“How are you going to eat if there’s no clean plates to eat on?”
“If you just do one every day, it will be more manageable.”
“At least let it soak in water, Kenma.”
But they are so busy now with their jobs. Sometimes, they go days without seeing each other. Even when they meet for lunch, it’s so rushed that Kenma barely gets to finish his food before Kuroo wolfs his down and says he has to go. So, sue him if he likes it when they do his dishes together. Is it a crime to want thirty uninterrupted minutes with his best friend? He doesn’t think so. And if he knows that Kuroo always wants to stay the night afterwards, and Kenma will get just that much more time with him, can you even blame him for neglecting his dirty sink? No. It’s all so reasonable.
He knows Kuroo doesn’t mind either. His face is always suppressing a smile when he walks into Kenma’s kitchen. He still lectures him, but it’s more of a formality at this point. A bit.
Then they both move towards the sink, filling it up with water and soap. Kenma leans against the counter on Kuroo’s right side, a towel hanging off his arm, awaiting to fulfill his role as Kuroo plays his. Nothing in the world could make Kenma move from his spot next to him.
Kuroo hands him another bowl now, water dripping down his elbows. He neither notices nor cares that it’s getting all over his pants and the floor. He asks, “So how did your meeting go today?”
“Hm.” Kenma tries to remember what his day has been like. Whenever he comes into the Bouncing Ball corporate office, he always feels stressed, but the minute he sees Kuroo’s face sticking out the driver seat to pick him up, it seems like he’s forgotten everything. “Good. We’re set to release our merch in time for the holiday season.”
“Oh? I need to look out for the drop date then.”
“I can just give you whatever you want, Kuro.” Kenma has already imagined Kuroo in the new maroon crewneck. He’d look good in it. Is it favoritism if he designs everything with Kuroo in mind?
“How can I show my support if you just give me stuff for free all the time?” He grins. Kenma wants to laugh at the irony of that statement as Kuroo is spending his evening making sure Kenma doesn’t die from a mold infestation instead of relaxing at home after his job. Not to mention he had picked Kenma up from his meeting and ordered them take-outs beforehand.
He goes with, “You show me support in other ways.”
“Oh yeah?” Kuroo’s face is smug.
Kenma rolls his eyes. “Now you’re fishing for validation.” As if there will be enough time in the world to list all the ways Kuroo cares for Kenma. As if there will be enough time in the world to list all the ways Kenma cares for Kuroo. “I think we both remember the first few months of streaming when you were the only person who watched me.”
“Now look at you.” Kuroo does look at him, his eyes so fond as he says, “World-famous Kodzuken.”
“Shut up.” Kenma feels his face heat up. He snatches the plate out of his hand. He hates and loves it when Kuroo calls him that. He feels proud, and he feels embarrassed to be so seen by him. Even now, when millions of eyes are on him, the ones that hold the most weight have always belonged to Kuroo.
Kenma is focused on his game when his phone buzzes beside him. It’s a text. From Kuroo. He frowns, wondering why he couldn’t have put it in the chat instead. They usually communicate that way. Kuroo in the chat. Kenma answering out loud. His heart skips a beat. Does that mean—?
He’s been streaming just shy of two months now and the only people who ever joins are Kuroo and a few of their friends. Though Kenma had thought that maybe he could turn his gaming into a job, it’s taking a while for anything to happen. He doesn’t really mind that, though. He still plans to go to college, and it’s been a fun way to hang out with Kuroo since he left a few months ago.
Instead of letting his eyes wander on his screen, Kenma confirms by tilting his face a bit so he can properly read Kuroo’s text.
Kuro: I don’t want to alarm you, but other people are here.
Kuro: You might want to greet them ;)
Now Kenma allows himself to look at the view count. Usually a consistent 1, never rising above 5, the number now glows 37. He blinks and it changes to 39.
He’s grateful that he turned off the camera because his face is probably bright red. He can hear his heart practically in his throat. He clears it, hoping to sound less nervous and pukey than he feels inside.
“Hi everyone. I just noticed that a few of you are joining. My name’s Kodzuken.” It’s the first time he says it out loud as an introduction. Kodzuken. It feels foreign on his tongue, his lips not used to shape of it, but it also feels right. “Hope you enjoy.”
Kenma wills himself to focus back on Kingdom Hearts. It shouldn’t feel any different now, but it does. Strangely, Kenma enjoys knowing that there are people out there who are invested in what he’s doing, who can see how his fights play out. The chat is mostly silent, but when the first message pops up, “That was so cool!” it inflates something inside of his chest. It feels different than when Kuroo says it to him. A different type of pride.
He doesn’t stream for much longer, maybe another hour, because he’d already been at it for a while before anyone started to join. As he signs off for the first time, saying a simple, “Thanks for joining”, a few messages pop up in various ways of saying, “See you next time!” Kenma cannot suppress the smile on his face.
When the stream ends, his phone rings beside him, and Kenma hits Accept faster than he ever had in his life.
There is no greeting. Just the sound of Kuroo and Kenma simultaneously screaming for joy then bouts of unrestrained laughter.
“Oh my god!”
“Other people are watching you! Mr. Kodzuken!”
“Can you believe it?! Ahhh!”
It’s such a small moment, but such a huge, huge step in the right direction. There is no one who would understand that better than Kuroo. And no one better Kenma could’ve wished to share that victory with. Because who else had been there from the beginning? Through it all?
Kenma clears his throat. “How was your meeting?”
“Great!” Then he gives a nervous laugh. “Except um—I know you usually stream Saturday nights.” His voice is drawling towards the end, suggestive.
“Uh huh.”
“But we have a foundation dinner coming up in a few weeks, and I’m supposed to bring a date.”
“I don’t like where you’re going with this.”
Kuroo whorls around to face him, his eyelashes batting in an attempt to sway Kenma’s heart. Kenma is embarrassed to say that it’s working. He has always been susceptible to Kuroo’s puppy-dog eyes. “Come on, please. You know I’m much more charming with you around.”
This is another dance they do. Kuroo pretending to beg for Kenma to accompany him to a boring JVA party. Kenma pretending to not be interested. As if he hasn’t attended a million of these with him already over the years.
“I don’t know how that’s possible.” In his head, Kenma is already reorganizing his streaming schedule. He’ll have to stream on Friday to make up for it. It’d be fine. If he has too much work Friday, he’ll do Sunday night instead and make it a longer one.
“Please! I get nervous in crowds.” He juts out his lower lip.
Kenma elbows him, making Kuroo yelp out in surprise. “You’re such a liar.”
Kuroo laughs. “So, it starts at 7. I’ll come get you around 6:30?” His eyes shine. His hair as untamed as ever. Kenma thinks that no one should look good under florescent kitchen light, but his best friend has always been known to be the except to the rule.
Other rules Kuroo have broken include: no one should talk to Kenma before 8 AM, no one should call him “cute” and boop his nose, no one can convince Kenma to eat when he’s in a mood, no one should be crawling into Kenma’s bed and put their cold feet on his stomach and make it out alive, etc etc…
“I didn’t say I was going.” Kenma huffs. Then, with a small smile on his face that he hides by turning away from Kuroo, he says, “But come over at 6. I need you to do my hair.”
Behind him, Kuroo hums. “You think you’re ever going to cut it?”
Kenma can feel his eyes on the back of his head, trailing over the locks of hair already grown past his shoulders with the ends still holding on to its gold. He’s too lazy to ever re-dye his hair, so he just lets the yellow grow out. But the rest…Kenma thinks about the fact that Kuroo said he likes long hair one day back in high school. He thinks about the fact that Kuroo would absentmindedly run his fingers through it when they sit close together on the couch. He thinks that it always feels nice when Kuroo brushes it and ties it back for him before any special events—and that he gets to spend even more time with Kuroo that way, squeezed together in his too-small bathroom.
“No.” He says, decisively.
Kenma knocks on his bedroom door, more of a courtesy than of a necessity. He knows Kuroo’s dressed, or at least he should be by now. They’re about five minutes before they need to head out the door, and Kuroo is painfully punctual to everything.
He sees him by the mirror, twisting his tie left and right. Kenma winces, knowing that he’s making it more of a mess.
“Come here.” He beckons Kuroo over while also heading towards him.
Kuroo sighs a sigh of relief, face so pale you’d think the tie is actually choking him even though it’s just hanging loosely around his neck.
“What are you being so nervous for? You’ve worked with these people for over half the year.” Kenma is grateful his mom insists he knows how to properly tie a tie, both on himself and other people. For this and for many other reasons (mainly, the man in front of him), she deserves a fruit basket from him every few months.
“I know.” Kuroo laughs shakily. “It’s just—this is the first event I’m hosting. I want it to go well. So many things can go wron—”
Kenma shushes him. He tightens the tie and tucks it underneath his collar. “If I know you, and I do, you’ve already triple-check your triple-checks. You’ve always done everything excruciatingly well, and even when things don’t go your way, you always know how to fix it.” Kenma holds his gaze. The gold of Kuroo’s eyes so beautiful he never gets tired of looking into it. “This won’t be any different. And I will be with you tonight. If you need anything at all, I’m here.”
Kuroo lets out a long breath. Kenma feels him relaxing under his hands. He allows himself another touch, smoothing out the lines of his tie and his suit, before letting his hands drop back down.
“Thank you.” Kuroo smiles.
He feels suddenly so hot in his own suit, his face burning. But Kenma doesn’t look away because he’s now noticing that Kuroo is noticing him for the first time, his eyes scanning his hair.
Kenma knows it’s a bit different than his usual look. He even watched a YouTube tutorial earlier to make sure he pulled his hair up right, making it nice and not too messy. The braids hurt his arms to do, but he thinks it goes well with the gold in his hair.
Kuroo seems to think so too. He can’t take his eyes off it. His hands move, gentle touching the side of Kenma’s head, sending shivers down his spine.
“It looks—you look amazing.” His voice is breathless.
Kenma feels like he can probably fly. He can float away right now if he tries. The heat on his face only grows, but the dim light in Kuroo’s room thankfully hides it.
“I wanted to look nice.”
“Well, shit, yeah.” Kuroo’s eyes are still fixed on his hair, as if he can’t get enough.
He laughs. “What? You want me to braid your hair too? Grow it out and we’ll make it happen.”
Kuroo cackles, that ugly but charming sound that Kenma can’t help but love. “I think I would look ridiculous with long hair. But, well, I wouldn’t mind learning how to do this for you. Looks easy enough.”
“Easy? Psh.” Kenma arches a brow.
“What? Don’t think I can do it?”
“No. I don’t think you can do it better than me.” The thought of Kuroo running his hand through his hair is making Kenma a little delirious. If they didn’t have somewhere to be, he’d open the YouTube video right now. Even so, goading Kuroo is always fun.
Kuroo grins. “You’re on. We gotta go, but don’t think I’m going to forget this conversation.”
The party, in fact, does turn out to be a massive success. Kuroo also turns out to be quite good at braiding hair. Kuroo is not the only one who remembers the conversation.
Kenma places the stack of plates in his cabinets. Walking back to Kuroo, he asks, “Will Bokuto be there or is this an employee thing only?” Not that he can’t entertain himself while Kuroo chats with the guests and patrons, but Kenma prefers when Akaashi is brought along too. They usually enjoy each other’s company while their much more social counterparts are deep in the crowd, making the rounds.
He shrugs. “Athletes are invited, but who knows who’s going to show. This one is mostly for the higher-ups to talk about how the JVA has grown this year, so I can’t imagine Bo is going to be very interested in going.” Then he adds, “Or Shoyou, for that matter.”
Kenma laughs to himself. He’s been to a few JVA functions with Shoyou, both as his sponsor and as Kuroo’s date. The younger boy always complains about how boring it is and how even though everyone there plays volleyball, there is no actual playing of volleyball involved. One time, Shoyou took it upon himself to rectify that.
He nudges Kuroo. “Hey, remember when Shoyou and Kageyama ditched the awards banquet to play volleyball in the parking lot? They missed getting their own awards.” Kenma had seen them both slip out the side door but decided that it’s really none of his business what they get up to. Besides, if they were sneaking off to do something inappropriate, well, it would’ve been about time.
Kuroo laughs too. “Oh man, that’s right. Leave it to them to find a volleyball at a black-tie dinner.” To Shoyou’s point, it’s not hard to find a volleyball at a volleyball-focused event. Though Kenma wouldn’t put it past him to sneak it in somehow beforehand.
“Bet you anything it was Shoyou’s idea.” He snickers.
“Kageyama is the only knucklehead that would go along with it.”
“Shoyou can be surprisingly persuasive.” Kenma muses.
Kuroo makes a noise of assent. “Yeah. He got you to play beach volleyball after all.”
Kenma gives him a look from the corner of his eyes. Is that what Kuroo thinks?
When they were in Brazil for Kuroo’s promotional event, it’s actually Kuroo who convinced him to play and stream beach volleyball for his viewers. His best friend had on a distinct giddy, awestruck look of joy on his face when he realized that he could play with Kenma again—who is Kenma to refuse? And playing with Kuroo, he had missed it too.
It’s the first time that Kenma ever attempted beach volleyball. If he ever thought regular volleyball was hard, beach volleyball is a different beast altogether. The sand sticking to your feet, determined to pull you down. The sun on your back with its relentless heat, blinding every time you look up at the sky.
Kuroo and Kenma can’t beat the other two pro players, not by a long shot, but he can say that they put up a fight, not entirely handing over the victory to them on a silver platter. Playing with Kuroo with his partner is as easy as spelling his name, even with the sand in the equation. They’ve always worked well together, and the time away from the court has done nothing to diminish that.
When Kuroo goes up for a spike, the sunlight makes him look blindingly beautiful. His joy is so palpable that despite his exhaustion, Kenma just wants to play on and on. But the game always ends, even the ones he wants to play forever. The ball drops on their side of the court, just a couple centimeters away from Kenma’s diving hand. He lays there, defeated but happy.
Kuroo appears in front of his face. The Brazil heat is making Kenma feel like he might be a hallucination. That is, until he holds out his hand. Kenma takes it, feeling his real, solid palm against his. The sand on both their hands rubbing unpleasantly against one another but he’s not in a hurry to pull away.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you try that hard for a game, Kenma.” Kuroo is grinning at him and Kenma’s head is spinning from the force of it. Maybe it’s the heat and the tiredness crashing in.
“Don’t expect that level of effort from me again.” He grunts, hardly able to keep himself upright if not for Kuroo’s hold on his arm.
He’s aware that they’re standing unusually close. If he looks away from Kuroo’s face, he would be staring straight into Kuroo’s bare chest. His toned, tanned skin, dripping with sweat and glistening in the sunli—
Kenma swallows. Then he starts coughing because the saliva goes down the wrong pipe.
“You okay? Your face is so red. I think you need to drink some water.” Kuroo sounds concerned. He leans down to get a closer look at his face.
Kenma tries to look away, his hair falling down to hopefully cover the evidence of his unabashed thoughts. He’s not so lucky because Kuroo is an insisting, caring bastard. He lifts a finger to pull away the curtain of his hair, forcing himself into Kenma’s point of view again.
He’s so so close. His furrowed brows decorated with sweats. His flushed cheeks with its tiny freckles beginning to show. His soft, pink lips pursed in a worried line.
Kenma could just lean in and kiss it away. He could just—
“Kenma!” Shoyou’s voice cut through the air, springing the both of them away from each other like scared cats. He’s running over, beaming. “How did the stream turn out? Did your followers like it?”
Oh shit. The stream. Did they see all of that?
Kenma runs over to where his phone is propped. Fortunately, most of the comments rolling in are over how awesome the game was, how cool it was for them to finally see Kenma play. Some are over how hot Kuroo looks, but Kenma is used to them thirsting over Kuroo now. Join the club.
“Hey, guys. Thanks for joining today! I hope you enjoyed it. For more volleyball content, look out for more information soon for an exciting match with some of this generation’s best volleyball players. Until then, I’ll see you!” He waves. After a few seconds, he ends the stream.
Kenma breaths out. He allows himself a moment before rejoining the other three where they currently sit under the beach umbrella. He wonders what would’ve happened if Shoyou was a few seconds later in interrupting them.
Kissing Kuroo. Kenma has lost count of how many times he had wanted to kiss Kuroo and how many times he wanted Kuroo to kiss him. If he was paid to have wishful thinking about his best friend, he’d be even more rich than he was now. He wouldn’t even need to work.
Kenma sneaks a glance at Kuroo and thinks about whether he should just kiss him now. He has never kissed anyone before. Is that ridiculous? 24 and never been kissed? He’s just never been interested in anyone. Well. Anyone but Kuroo.
But he also knows that this is something that once they do, they can never turn back from it. It’s the same thought that’s stopped him many times before. Kenma likes how it is now with Kuroo. Does he need anything to change?
“What?” Kuroo’s voice breaks him out of his daydream.
“Huh?”
“You’re staring at me.” He smirks. God, even his stupid half-smirk is sexy. It’s so stupid how Kenma just loves everything about him.
“That’s usually my line.” He averts his eyes, focusing back on drying the bowl in his hand instead.
“I know.” Kuroo chuckles. “So what’s up? I got a new pimple or something?”
Kenma wonders what he should tell him. I was thinking about whether I should kiss you. Not that I’d know what to do considering I’ve never kissed anyone before. But Kuroo has.
The thought makes his stomach churn unpleasantly. He never liked thinking about Kuroo with somebody else. He knows that Kuroo has never been his. Not really. But it has always felt a little bit like it. Shouldn’t Kuroo know that they were only meant for each other? Kenma knows he’s being silly and irrational again.
This time though, there’s a curiosity mixed in with the twinge of jealousy. Something he never thought to ask because, frankly, he’s afraid of the answer.
But maybe he should now that he is older and more secure in his place in Kuroo’s life. Maybe it wouldn’t kill him to know.
Tentatively, Kenma asks, “What was your first kiss like?”
“What?”
He grinds his teeth together, not really enjoying the fact that he has to repeat himself. But he already dug this hole. “Your first kiss. You remember it, right?”
“Yeah.” A pause. Kenma doesn’t look over to see what kind of look Kuroo has on. “Why are you suddenly interested? You didn’t want to hear about it then.”
Kenma can only shrug.
He’s in his first year of high school when Kuroo goes on his first ever date. It would’ve been fine if not for the fact that Kenma had just realized that what he feels for Kuroo is more than what he has ever felt for anyone. Probably more than what he would ever feel for anyone.
Stupid Kuroo with his stupid hair and stupid grin and stupid love for transition metals because they never get much love and his stupid way he always calls Kenma “kitten” in front of all their friends and just—so stupid how all of it makes Kenma feel like he just wants to be with him forever.
But Kuroo is not his. He doesn’t share any of the same feelings that Kenma harbors deep inside his chest. So Kuroo goes on a date with Rin-chan and asks Kenma what he should wear and what kind of place he should bring her on this date of theirs. Kenma responds appropriately—the white button up with his nice jacket, a dinner, and a movie.
Kenma lies in his bed at home while Kuroo is out in Tokyo with some girl. He can’t even be mad. It’s not Kuroo’s fault at all. Kenma is abusing the buttons on his PSP, trying to let the sound of his game drown out the thoughts in his head of what Kuroo must be doing now with her when just the person he’s avoiding thinking about bursts through the door.
“Kenmaaaa!” Kuroo runs inside, arms raised to announce his presence.
“Kuro, you’re so loud.” Kenma suppresses a smile because he’s back earlier than expected. Maybe it meant the date went bad after all. Then he’s mad at himself for wishing that Kuroo had a horrible time.
But Kuroo doesn’t look like he has a horrible time at all. This also makes Kenma feel terrible. He’s starting to think that having a crush is exactly how it sounds—crushing to your soul.
“Look, I got you something.” Kuroo grins, holding up a bag that contains a small, white box.
“Who goes on a date and gets their friend a gift? Do you even know how dating works?” Kenma rolls his eyes. Secretly, he’s screaming with joy. Kuroo had thought of him? On his date? Does that mean something?
He rolls off his bed to join Kuroo at his table. He sees him unwrapping the box, and he smells the sweet scent before he sees it.
“Ta-da!”
“Y-you got me apple pie?” Kenma blinks at the slice in front of him. It looks different than the kind he usually gets but the smell. Oh god the smell. He wants to eat it now. He’s vaguely aware that he’s staring at it like he’s been starved for days even though he already had dinner.
Kuroo looks so proud of himself. “Rin-chan said that this shop’s specialty is apple pie, so I knew that I had to get one for you.”
Oh, right. Kenma nearly forgot where Kuroo had been this entire time. Waving pie in front of his face really distracts him from it.
“Did you try it yet?”
“Nah, I wanted to try it with you. We got something else there.”
Kenma’s heart skips a beat. “Oh.” Then he asks, even though he really doesn’t want to know but also can’t seem to stop himself from torture, “So how was the movie?”
“Movie? Oh. We didn’t see one. She didn’t find one she was really interested in and the one I wanted to see I think we should go see it together. I think you’d like it too.”
“Kuro, the last time you said that you tricked me into seeing a boring documentary about latent volcanoes.”
“This one is different! Trust me. You’ll like it. We can go next weekend.” Then he claps his hands together like he’s directing a little kid. “Now, come on—let’s eat your pie!” He pushes it towards Kenma, holding out a plastic spoon.
Kenma takes it from him. And maybe because the light is hitting Kuroo in a different angle now, but he finally sees it. A lipstick mark just at the corner of his mouth.
His stomach sinks. Air is punched out of him. He suddenly feels like he doesn’t want to eat anymore. But he grips the spoon tight in his hand and forces himself to take a bite regardless while he says, “So. You kissed her, huh? Good for you.”
“Oh! What? H-how do you—” He blinks rapidly.
Kenma points to his lips. Kuroo’s face is entirely red as he furiously wipes at his mouth and the stain disappears into his skin. He laughs nervously. They don’t talk about it after that.
Kenma takes one bite after another of the pie, offering Kuroo some too, and they both eat in silence. The pie is good, and it almost washes away the bitterness in his mouth. Almost.
Kuroo doesn’t go on another date with her, and Kenma is secretly relieved. He thought that this would be the last he’s ever going to hear about this girl. He’s only partially correct.
A few weeks later, Kenma runs into Rin-chan in the hallway. His shoes squeak noisily as he abruptly stops, thankfully avoiding a full-on collision.
He tries to get away, but she recognizes him even with his head down.
“Oh? Kozume-kun?”
“Um. Hi.” He nods, not fully looking her in the eyes. This is probably the last person he wants to talk to.
She doesn’t feel that way. Her voice raising in pitch as she speaks,
“I’m so glad I ran into you! I just want to say sorry for the other day.” This makes Kenma perk up. Sorry? “I didn’t mean to step on any toes. I mean, I thought that Kuroo wasn’t—” She laughs, waving the rest of the sentence off. Kenma is looking up now and sees that there’s a hint of a blush on her face. “I’ll tell you a secret? I felt like I was actually on a date with you because of how much he spoke about you. So, sorry, again. I hope we can be friends.”
Kenma is stunned. He doesn’t know what to say. He realizes that he’s just staring at her with his mouth open, so he stammers a response. “Oh, no problem. Yes. Friends.” He tries a small smile, hoping it doesn’t look as awkward as he feels.
Apparently, that’s all she needs because she smiles and walks away happily. They never speak again after that, but he always gives her a nod when he sees her around.
After that date, Kuroo never expresses interest in seeing anyone again.
In his kitchen, Kuroo answers, “It was wet.” Not really what Kenma expected at all.
“Ew gross.” He wrinkles his nose.
Kuroo shrugs. “She wasn’t the one. I don’t think kisses are supposed to be like that.” He thinks before asking, “What was your first kiss like?”
“Never had one.”
He looks at him, eyes round in surprise. “What? Seriously? I—I thought—you know how you are always photographed with other streamers and YouTubers at events.”
“Yes. Us having dinner. Being friends.” Not that the internet and obsessed fans ever stop there. They always run the photos with some ridiculous accusations. Kenma pays all of it no mind. If he doesn’t address it, then it usually goes away on its own.
He never thought Kuroo bought in to any of that.
“Oh.” Is all he says, but the way the syllable comes out of his mouth—was Kuroo jealous?
Kenma is waving to Megumi, another streamer he’s made friends with during the trip, as they part at the airport. He sees Kuroo walking towards him and almost collapses into his arms. His relief masks the question as to why Kuroo is staring after Megumi seconds too long. That and Kenma is too worn down to be inquisitive about anything right now. He’s been away to California for VidCon and between the flights and the actual event itself, he feels his exhaustion deep in his bones.
“Hey. How was your flight?” Kuroo is entirely too chipper for somebody who is awake at 4 AM. Kenma is too tired to know what kind of time zone his own body is in. He just knows that his bed at home is calling his name.
“Ugh.” He doesn’t make it far. He gets close to Kuroo and buries his face in his chest, earning a low chuckle from the other man. He feels strong arms wrapped around his body, pulling him close and probably keeping him upright too.
“Alright, kitten.” He hears the murmur at the top of his head. “Let’s get you home.”
And Kuroo does get him home. He walks him out to the car and deposits him in the passenger seat. He drives Kenma all the way to his house and carries Kenma inside as he is desperately fighting sleep but failing. When he lays Kenma down on his bed, Kenma distinctly remembers a sensation of lips on his forehead, although he isn’t entirely sure it isn’t a dream.
“I’m just waiting for the right time, you know,” says Kenma. “I don’t want to rush anything. I’m not in a hurry.”
“Right.” Kuroo is almost done with the dishes now. He fishes out the last of the silverware, letting the water run soap down the chopsticks. As he watches the bubbles disappear, he asks, “Do you remember your housewarming party?”
Kenma chuckles. “How can I forget? There’s a burnt mark on my carpet.”
“Lev.” They look at each other and burst out laughing. That’s the last time Kenma ever brings a candle into this place.
He’s drunk. They all are. But Kenma is more drunk than he normally would be. The glasses of wine he’d tipped to the back of his throat is warming him from the inside out. From the outside in, the heat of Kuroo’s body is keeping that warmth for him. He’s pressed against his chest, letting Kuroo’s stable and sturdy frame keep him from slipping down onto the couch as his guests are mingling around the house.
How many times has he leaned on Kuroo tonight? Ever?
His head is spinning with the buzz of the alcohol, but he feels more intoxicated by the way Kuroo is tracing mindless patterns on his arms.
He knows he shouldn’t act like this, so unashamed and all over him, but the wine Yaku brought is sweeter and stronger than what he’s used to. And it’s not like Kuroo is complaining. He’s nuzzling his nose into Kenma’s ear, whispering jokes as the night goes on.
He’s doing it now. Except, instead of a joke, it’s a question, “Are you enjoying yourself?”
Kenma takes a second to think. All the people that he has ever cared for are under this roof, getting stupidly drunk. He can see Keiji in the corner with Bokuto as they laugh over something Shouhei is saying. Yaku is still reprimanding Lev about spilling the candle on Kenma’s carpet, although Lev is smiling so it doesn’t look like a punishment at all. He can hear Shoyou and Kageyama arguing in the distant. Tora is singing karaoke with his shirt off, half-crying to Kai who looks amused. Inuoka is already asleep on the floor, clutching a pillow and muttering something incoherent.
And Kuroo. Kuroo is holding him as he sits with his back against his chest on the couch, his arms a familiar and constant comfort.
“Yeah. I am.” Kenma smiles. He looks back at him and sees that Kuroo has on an awed look, his eyes glittering. What’s more, Kuroo is looking at his lips.
Oh, God. Kenma is dizzy. So dizzy that he’s seeing double of him, so who knows if that’s what he really sees. He lays back against him and closes his eyes, warm all over.
Kenma knows himself. And he knows Kuroo.
He knows that he wasn’t wrong then, even with the amount of wine in his system. The look Kuroo has in his eyes then is the same one he is giving him now.
The dishes are done. The sink is draining. Neither of them is paying attention to anything but each other.
Kuroo smiles shyly, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. “I wanted to…I mean, you looked so beautiful, but I was tipsy, and you were definitely drunk.”
“Kuro…” He breathes his name, not knowing what to say or what to do. His hands are starting to tremble.
“I want to do it right. I think I’ve been waiting for the right time, too, but no time is ever right even though somehow every moment feels right with you.” Kenma knows exactly what he means. Kuroo’s voice is soft as he says, “So I’m—if I’m doing something you don’t want, just please stop me from making a fool of myself, okay?”
“But I love it when you’re making a fool of yourself.” It’s the truth. Kenma loves everything about him.
Kuroo laughs. The words escape his lips. “I love you.”
And even though Kenma has been waiting to hear those words for most of his life, he doesn’t get to respond or to bask in them at all because Kuroo pulls him into a kiss.
One moment he is standing there, sure of the man he loves and unsure of what he should do about it, and the next moment, he is parting his lips and letting Kuroo taste the curves of his mouth.
His hands are gripping tight at his shirt, pulling him in and close. Again. More. Now.
He doesn’t see fireworks, but he feels them in his chest and hears them exploding in his ears. He doesn’t fly but he feels impossibly weightless as they kiss and kiss and kiss. The moment that lasts forever. The moment that feels like the culmination of a thousand tiny moments, fated since they day they met so many years ago.
Kuroo takes his breath away but, oh god, does Kenma want to just give it to him, give everything to him. Kenma only presses his lips closer and lets his tongue connect with the roof of his mouth. Kuroo runs his hands through his hair, letting his fingernails scratch against his skull and Kenma keens, melting further with every touch.
When they part, it is because they both finally realized that just because they feel breathless, it doesn’t mean they don’t still need air. Kenma leans his forehead against his cheek, feeling Kuroo’s hot breath against his skin as he struggles to keep his feelings contained inside his chest.
“I love you too.” He manages to say. And he hears Kuroo’s laugh brush against his forehead. Then undoubtedly, a gentle kiss pressed there. Not a dream this time (if it ever was).
“Good. Now is the time to tell you that I never renewed my lease, so I’m going to be homeless in three months unless someone takes pity on me.” Kuroo cups his cheeks, turning his attention back to him.
Kenma can really, truly look at him forever. He gives him a half smile, cheeky. “I would try Bokuto. He’s obsessed with you.”
“I don’t think Akaashi would want that.”
“I have a spare room here for Keiji.” He shrugs a shoulder.
“Kenma.” He whines. He turns on the puppy-dog eyes.
Kenma grins. “Hm. I like it when you beg.” He pulls Kuroo close this time for a kiss. Soft and gentle. He’ll never get tired of this either. He was wrong before about not wanting things to change. This, this with Kuroo is so so good. He pulls away and murmurs against his lips, these words he has wanted to say for forever too, “Move in with me.”
He hears back in Kuroo’s low voice, “You should know that I’d probably never leave.” Warmth blooms in his chest. Never? He would be so lucky.
“As if I’d ever let you.”
They both laugh, breath tickling each other’s skin.
Kenma thinks that he won’t have to let the dishes pile up anymore. He has no reason to now. Kuroo will simply just come here—come home to him. He pulls him close. Again. More. Now.
Forever.