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It is with much terror, yet no large surprise, that Kuroo one April evening opens the main door of his and Bokuto’s shared apartment only to find that its number of inhabitants has escalated since last time he went through the door.
When rooming with Bokuto Koutarou, you get used to things like the most random assembles of both wild and tamed animals, sudden gatherings of people you’ve never even heard of, unplanned hangouts with the plummer who just happened to drop by when Bokuto was making food, etcetera. His best friend slash pillow slash personal cook slash occasional fuck is something of a magnet to all species on planet earth, Kuroo has concluded long ago.
To, upon arriving home after a fairly rushed couple of hours at work, find a nostalgy trip in shape of various members from his old rival teams is nothing he's very shocked by, nor is the fact that there's also a bottle lying in the middle of the conspiratorially looking circle they all sit in, and that they're spinning it as he lets the door slam shut behind him. Bokuto raises a hand and greets him, which wakes the others from their trance-like concentration and results in a round of messily coordinated greetings that Kuroo in his current state can only possibly answer to by meekly choking out “Hi, it's been a while.”
“Ah, its Oikawa’s turn,” someone then notices, and they're back to discussing with whom Oikawa should perform his chosen dare. Kuroo sighs out of both fatigue and fond memories, removes his thin layer of outerwear, goes to the kitchen to put a kettle on and then sets course for his room and a pair of pants that don't intrude on his private areas as viciously. He reenters the living room to find a miraculously flustered Ushijima, an absent Oikawa gone off to the bathroom to rinse his mouth from Ushijima and that Terushima now has it on video (“NICE, man!”), which is all the information he takes in before he goes to make that cup of tea.
He's happy to look at some long unseen faces, sure (especially Yukie, who he hasn’t seen for months), but he'd rather not get unneccessarily involved with them in that particular fashion. (As he thinks this, Oikawa passes by with a grimace scrunching up his fair features.) Of course he'd have no aversions towards kissing Bokuto a hundredth time or getting a taste of Oikawa, but… well. Joining in would be risky, considering some certain others that also sit in that ring. No, he'd much rather be the ever-so-amused uncle who occupies a shady corner and laughs at others without pulling his own weight to the entertainment. Which is exactly what he intends to do, so he sneaks back into the living room with a teacup in hand and a mobile game ready to launch as alibi for sitting there.
Nothing exceedingly interesting happens during the following ten minutes, generally due to Sawamura’s (according to Oikawa) poor choice of challenge (he chooses truth, which leads to nothing but a cute little story of his first shag and further affirmation on Kuroo’s behalf that Terushima is very eager indeed to become the second). By the time the next bottle has been but into rotation, Kuroo is focussed enough on his mobile game not to notice the violently blinking alarm signs that should pop up in his head the instant the bottle stops on Daishou. But as it is, he doesn't see them until he metaphorically hits his head on one of them, by which time his dear roommate in conspiracy with Oikawa and Yukie has already pointed out that now that there's one more person in the room, Daishou can pick dare without having to do the challenge on a person he's already snogged earlier the same evening.
Kuroo jumps in his seat as Bokuto calls his name with an alarming grin across his lips, and immediately says “this one more person is very not up for that, thank you very much.” To which Oikawa, bless his soul but fuck him, throws in a low comment connected to a particular pair of body parts.
“No,” Kuroo says and glares lasers at Daishou, the real culprit, who puts his hands up in lazy defense.
“Hey, it's either this, giving Ushijima another hickey or snogging Bokuto-san again.”
(At Kuroo’s sceptical look, Oikawa contentedly lifts Ushijima’s shirt up over his head so that a total of three reddish marks strewn across his chest are exposed.)
“Why can't you just pick truth,” Kuroo says in a voice that starts to resemble a whine.
“Nah, we prohibited that,” Bokuto says and throws a knowing glance at Kuroo where he does his best to hide behind his knees without looking like a total prude. “Daishou’s too shameless to be embarrassed by stories and that's just boring.” And that's when Kuroo realises that no one should ever again put Oikawa, Yukie and Bokuto within whispering range to each other, and that this happening to him is very far from coincidental.
“No,” he says, quieter this time.
Bokuto lights up as if he's cracked the best idea, and says “Hey, I'll give you my leftover donuts!”
“How many?” (To this, Daishou drops a mildly offended protest against being purchased for sugary pastries.)
“I think two?”
“Ushijima, prepare your chest for another round,” Kuroo deadpans.
Yukie, the traitor, interferes. ”I work at Dunkin Donuts, getting you a discount is easily done.”
“Discount isn't sufficient. A venti latte to go with that and we're talking.”
“Two grandes,” Bokuto cuts in and damnit if Kuroo would ever say anything but yes to that. Even if it means he'll have to think about whipped cream and caramel syrup as he kisses his high school nemesis.
He sighs and slides off the couch, earning a hoot from his ex best friend, equally suggestive looks from Oikawa and Yukie, and an offended scoff from a certain someone.
“I can't believe you haggled me down to two grandes,” Daishou complains as Kuroo enters the circle, and even though it's spoken to chase any possible tension, Kuroo feels a sort of pressure over his chest as he crouches down.
“You feeling undervalued, or what?” he smirks down at Daishou, who snorts and peers up at him with a sort of defiant look in his eyes and his arms nonchalantly crossed over his chest.
”I'm at least worth three as far as you're concerned.”
Kuroo snickers at this as he puts a hand on the back of Daishou’s pale neck, eager to get this madness over with before he recollects the common sense he must've lost on the way home. But just as Daishou licks the corner of his lips and starts leaning in, Oikawa clears his throat loudly, making Kuroo flinch and Daishou pointedly ask the directors of this particular scene for instructions.
Oikawa hums, tapping his chin and shamelessly enjoying every second he has Kuroo hanging in pure fear. “Hmmm… just start slowly and we'll see what you're made of,” he says, making it sound like they're recording a sex tape.
Kuroo still hopes that this means it'll be pleasantly short, and closes the distance between him and Daishou before he can stop himself.
He can think of many terrible things about this night, such as the probability that Terushima is filming this and that Yukie won't let him forget it during the next two semesters. On the top of that list is however the fact that Daishou’s kisses cant be qualified as terrible, not even close, and that's horrifying in itself. He does it exactly like Oikawa told them to, carefully fitting his and Kuroo’s lips together and opening them a sliver, giving the ghost of an open-mouthed invitation, only after Kuroo has crouched down enough to level their heads. Due to their difference in height and position - Kuroo on his knees, bending down and Daishou with his legs crossed, craning his neck - it doesn't go as seamlessly, but still easily once they’ve gotten past the initial clack of teeth and confusion. Kuroo notices with mixed fear and wonder that he follows Daishou’s instructing tug on his collar without resistance, but forgets about the lack of control when his tongue gets a taste of the other’s, if only for a few seconds. Daishou tilts his head and they lap into each others touch, each others mouthes, tasting and pulling back, and Kuroo finds his shoulders dropping and his hand travelling from a pale neck to a cheek which is heated under his palms.
Daishou is the one to break off once their disorganized tasting starts to deepen into something else. He doesn't look at Kuroo when he does so but instead at their spectators, (who luckily enough can't see Kuroo’s face), silently asking if their little performance was good enough for the stated bribe. Over his shoulder, Kuroo hears a “Whatcha say, Yukie, have we reached two grandes yet?” and a “Nah, I'm stuck at one, sans coupons. Oikawa?” and an “I could use some extra material.” Kuroo groans into Daishou’s shoulder at this, only to start rising back onto his knees the next second, at which Daishou quirks one eyebrow. “I'm good with one grande,” he chokes out as explanation, and someone (read: Oikawa) delightedly laughs at the attempted escape.
“Oi, is he really that bad, Kuroo?”
Daishou snarls at this, and Kuroo thinks he's going to be let off the hook any second now, but ends up feeling that tug on his collar again. There's a resolute frown on Daishou’s face when he says “I'm getting you those grandes,” which is really super cheesy and awkward and shows itself in the latter’s pursed lips and reddening neck. And, well, damn it all. Daishou is the one to lean in this time, and they soon continue where they broke off, Daishou’s hand gripping Kuroo’s forearm for balance and Kuroo’s cupping Daishou’s jaw to get the right angle. It’s starting to feel familiar, less afloat in uncertainty and more like something he’s gotten the hang of - at least that’s what Kuroo thinks only seconds before a hand sneaks dangerously close to the hem of his trousers. Guessing it’s another instruction to adjust his position, Kuroo lets go of Daishou’s lips for a short moment to shuffle some centimetres closer, but he’s wrong because the hand doesn’t go away even when one of Daishou’s sharp knees brush the inside of his thighs, which sends an alarming jolt underneath his skin.
Oikawa’s scheming tone cuts through the heavy silence. “Ah, I wonder if Kuroo still has that six pack from last summer...Dai-chan, would you mind?”
There’s a brief hesitation to Daishou’s fashion as he sends a short glance (or glare) towards their watchers, but then he’s back and slants his lips onto Kuroo’s again, playing with his lower lip between snippets of teeth that never clamp down, but nibble at him. The hand on the waist of Kuroo’s trousers slips underneath his t-shirt, and Kuroo’s imagined self-control creaks and crackles at the sensation of a hand running up his abdomen: it gets nothing too remarkable as a result, just a stuttery breath that he lets out against Daishou’s parted lips, and it’s probably goes unnoticed by the ones that aren’t so very pressed into his personal space. But Daishou’s hand stops as he stops to look up at Kuroo with - curious? Surprised? - narrowed eyes.
“Ding ding diing,” sounds Yukie’s voice, “We’ve reached the mark of two grande, and… what’d you say, Oikawa?”
“Two coupons” Oikawa decides. Kuroo is now officially allowed to wedge himself free from Daishou’s knee between his thighs, and he carefully avoids looking Daishou (or anyone, for that matter) in the eyes for too long as he does so and then returns to his spot in the corner. (He thinks he catches a glimpse of Terushima putting a mobile phone back into his sweatshirt pocket whilst sharing a conspicious glance with Oikawa, but chooses to ignore it since he doesn’t have guts left to call him out for it.) His tea has gone cold, and Kuroo grabs the chance to excuse himself from the room.
Safe and alone in the kitchen, he tries very hard not to think about what Daishou may or may not have read into that poorly timed gasp, and concentrates on cleaning his jug whilst listening to the living room conversation. Not two minutes later, there’s a round of shuffling and complaints about aching backs that can’t mean anything else than an end to tonight’s excitements, and Kuroo peeks into the hallway to find a Sawamura, a Terushima, an Ushjima and an Oikawa in the process of searching for their coats. “You’re leaving?” He says, even though it’s obvious.
Sawamura, bless him, nods. “It’s pretty late, after all.”
“Not if you ask me,” Oikawa smiles cheerfully, “but we shouldn’t test Tetsu-chan’s nerves too much, hm?”
Kuroo just glares at him and heads back to the kitchen.
When the door clatters shut, he thinks they’ve all gone and is therefore startled not for the first time that night by Daishou’s presence in the room.
“Aren’t you going with them?”
Daishou, leaning on the doorframe, shakes his head. “No reason, I live in another part of town."
“Is that so,” Kuroo says lamely and gets back to scrubbing the couple of dirty plates he found in the sink, expecting Daishou to leave soon enough. But he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t.
“Are you ticklish?” comes out of the blue, and Kuroo turns to frown at him in question.
“Not particularly,” he eventually says, leans one hip against the counter and crosses his arms in a reflection of the other’s posture, narrows his eyes. “Why?”
Daishou just looks at him like he’d know exactly why (and shit, maybe he does), like that’s a natural thing to wonder when a person who’s supposed to dislike you reacts like that to being stroked on the abdomen (which it probably is), but then he shrugs and goes to shove his feet into a pair of worn-out sneakers, and Kuroo is left in the kitchen feeling utterly ridiculous and unnerved by the existence of everything, covering his eyes with a hand the minute the door shuts behind Daishou’s half-assed “until next time.”
And in the aftermath, once Kuroo finds out that Terushima did indeed record the whole thing and that Oikawa was already aware that Kuroo’s six pack had remained since last summer and that Yukie’s Dunkin’ Donuts discounts meant only 5 per cent less than the usual price and that Daishou unexplicably doesn’t want to watch the video any more than he does and that snapping at him like usual the next time they meet proves to be rather difficult, well, Kuroo decides that Bokuto definitely owes him one more grande.