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Kuroo downed the last of his beer and sat it on the glass coffee table amongst the other empty bottles.
"Dude, how many have you had?" Bokuto asked from the other side of the brown leather couch in Kuroo's basement.
"Lost count," Kuroo said as he attempted to use his foot to push an empty bottle away from the edge of the table, knocking down three bottles in the process. "Shit!" he stumbled to his feet and picked them up, greatful that none of the glass had broken on his grey carpet.
Standing up, Bokuto grabbed the Wii remote and another beer. He then turned to his raven-haired friend who had settled back on the couch, "Anything good on netflix?"
"Uh. . .let's watch Breaking Bad; I've heard it's pretty cool."
"Breaking Bad it is!" Bokuto said as he quickly flicked through the red and grey selection screen and put on the first episode.
Four or five episodes and a few beers later, Bokuto leapt up suddenly and yelled, "Dude, we should do this"
"Do what?" Kuroo asked, snapping out of his half-asleep daze.
"We should become drug dealers!"
"Wait wait wait," Kuroo stood up, giving his friend a confused look, "You want to what?!"
Bokuto walked over to Kuroo. Placing his hands on his companion's shoulders, he looked him in the eye and said in a dead serious tone, "I want to cook meth."
"Bokuto," Kuroo groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Bokuto no!"
"Bokuto yes!" the owl-like man laughed as he pulled out his phone and typed "meth lab stuff" into a Google search and skimmed the first article that popped up. "Okay, bro, we need pots, plastic containers, glass beakers-"
"We are NOT cooking meth in my house!" Kuroo yelled, half frustrated, half amused at Bokuto's ridiculousness.
"I'll go see what we have in the kitchen!" Bokuto yelled excitedly as he ascended the stairs into the rest of Kuroo's home.
The aforementioned Nekoma captain sighed, realizing that Bokuto was serious about this. He pulled out his phone and called the only person he knew that could talk Bokuto down in situations like this.
. . .
. . .
. . . "Kuroo-san? What do you need?"
"Akaashi, thank god, you gotta help me. Bo's trying to cook meth."
"He's trying to what?!"
"We were watching Breaking Bad when he got this crazy idea to start a meth lab in my kitchen."
"How drunk is he?"
"Yes."
"Uh. . .Kuroo-san?"
"Crap, sorry," Kuroo replied, slightly embarassed by his mistake, "He's very drunk, and I think I am too."
"I can tell," Akaashi said in his typical monotone voice, "Can you please find Bokuto-san and put the phone on speaker?"
"Got it," Kuroo leapt up the stairs and opened the basement door to find Bokuto sitting on the kitchen's linoleum floor surrounded by pots, pans, and glass bowls, still reading on his phone. "Okay, he's here," Kuroo said into the receiver. He pulled the phone away from his ear and put it in speaker mode. Almost immediately after his thumb hit the button, an uncharacteristically loud voice erupted from the tiny speaker, startling both the men.
"Bokuto-san if you manufacture so much as a milligram of methamphetamine I will not hesitate to quit the volleyball club and never toss to you again." click.
Bokuto gave the phone a sad look that could only be compared to a drowned puppy. He looked down, and, after a few seconds of sulking, his face brightened as another crazy idea entered his mind. "Let's grow pot!"
"BOKUTO!"