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“I can’t believe we’re going to be late because you were trying to style your hair,” Yaku grumbles, pushing the button for the penthouse suite.
“‘Scuse you, I wanted to look good for this. Appearances are important, you should know that by now, Yakkun.”
Kuroo smoothes his hair as he checks his appearance in the mirrored walls of the elevator, admiring his new three-piece suit and striped tie in Nekoma colors. This is one of his first meetings since being named heir to Nekoma, and he’s eager to show off his new status to the other gangs of Tokyo.
What he’s not expecting is a barrage of bullets that whiz and zing past his head as they get off the elevator. Yaku pushes him back inside and pushes the button to take them back downstairs, but before they can return to the lobby, the fire alarm blares and the elevator lurches to a stop.
They get out on a random floor and duck into a linen closet at the end of the hall to figure out their next move.
They hide in silence, lights off, listening for footsteps to make sure they haven’t been followed, pressed so close together he can feel the rabbiting beat of Yaku’s heart. His own is pounding just as hard and he reaches for Yaku’s hand so they can calm each other down.
After what seems like forever, they both exhale deeply and Kuroo turns on the light. They’re surrounded by walls of towels and sheets, cabinets of cleaning supplies and a service cart for the staff. He smiles and inhales deeply,
“Remember how we used to make out in that closet at the old Nekoma headquarters? They use the same soap here, that smell really takes me back.”
Yaku snorts as he rummages through a cabinet. “You know I only kissed you that first time to shut you up, right? Call Kai, see if you can find out what’s going on.”
Kuroo smirks as he unlocks his phone. “Is that so? What about the second time, or the third time, or all the times after?”
Yaku waves his hand dismissively. “Just call Kai, will you?”
A few minutes later, Kuroo ends the call and sighs.”You’re not going to believe this.”
“Try me.”
“You know how we always joked that Nohebi would try to poison the tea or something? Well, they tried to take out Itachiyama; Iizuna was wounded and Sakusa is pissed off. He’s got the place locked down; all the exits are covered, and nobody gets in or out without someone checking them. Kai is waiting with a car near the main entrance; if we can get to the door, he’ll whisk us away and it won’t be too messy.”
Yaku, still searching the cabinets, pulls out a small bundle and shakes it out. “Oho - this will do nicely,”
Kuroo leans his chin on Yaku’s shoulder to examine his discovery. “What is it, clever one?”
His prize is clothing; a set of street clothes and a baseball cap. “This should fit me, but you’re going to need a different disguise and this,” he pulls a hotel cardkey out of the pants pocket, “could help. Check the cart, see what else we can find.”
On the cart, there’s a clipboard listing all the rooms that are occupied. Yaku runs a finger down the list and stops at one with the description “Madam X Fashions, Trunk show.”
“This looks promising,” Kuroo says. “It’s worth a try, anyway.”
The suite is nothing like what they expected.
Instead of the minimalist hotel decor, the room is full of garment racks with a rainbow of clothes, towers of shoeboxes stacked waist high, and several chests of drawers. There’s a full length mirror at one end and they see the reflection of a blonde, Western woman typing on her cell phone.
She looks up and her eyes widen when she sees the two of them, but she’s otherwise unfazed by their appearance.
“Can I help you with something?” Her Japanese has a twangy accent, but is otherwise perfect, and when she stands up, she’s almost as tall as Kuroo.
Yaku bows. “Sorry for the intrusion.” He points at Kuroo. “We need to change his appearance — drastically. Can you be of assistance?”
She looks them over appraisingly. “My appointment just canceled; something about a gunfight and the hotel being locked down. Do you know anything about that?”
Kuroo shrugs. “All I know is that we were late for a meeting and missed all the excitement. I’d like to leave without being noticed, but right now everyone’s looking for a tall man in a suit.”
“My boutique offers fashion for Western expats living in Japan, as well as a more, shall we say, specialized clientele. I can make you over so that your own family wouldn’t recognize you.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes.”
She beams and claps her hands. “Splendid! I do love a challenge.” She turns to Kuroo and says briskly. “Take off your pants, let me see your legs.”
“Why?”
“That’ll help me decide what kind of skirt you should wear.”
Kuroo glances over at Yaku, who shrugs.
“You heard the lady, drop ‘em. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”
Kuroo sighs. Madam X offers him a hanger for his jacket, then he unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his pants. At least he wore his favorite underwear that hugs him in all the right places. The stylized panther tattoo that stretches from the middle of his calf to his hip would surely put an end to that debate.
She raises an eyebrow when she sees the tattoo, but then she nods approvingly. “Mini skirt and fishnets for you, darlin’. Now, shirt off and flex for me?”
Kuroo doesn’t even bother looking at Yaku, just loosens his tie and unbuttons his vest, dress shirt and cuffs. Yaku holds out a hand for the carved onyx cufflinks cut into cat shapes; he’d given them to Kuroo shortly after Nekomata named him as heir to the Nekoma gang.
Now he’s standing in front of his lover and a stranger in nothing but his underwear and sock garters and maybe he’s a little embarrassed, but if it’s going to get them out of here, he’s willing to do things that may seem a little silly. At least Yaku appreciates all the hours he puts in at the gym.
He lifts his arms and flexes, glancing over at Yaku, who raises his eyebrows appreciatively and grins at him. The woman smiles broadly and squeezes Kuroo’s chest approvingly. “Oh, we can definitely work with these. Lots of gals pay good money for titties like these.”
Kuroo blushes as she pulls a roll of tape from a drawer, but then changes her mind and pulls out a lacy bra instead. She checks the tag, looks at Kuroo and nods, then holds it out to him. He takes it from her and stares at it, then at her.
“Go ahead, put it on.”
He turns it over in his hands, frowning in confusion. “How?”
Yaku’s burst of laughter turns swiftly into a cough as Kuroo glares at him. “How am I supposed to know, Mori? Cut me a little slack here!”
“It’s okay,” she says reassuringly, “I’ll talk you through it.” With her help, Kuroo fastens it around his chest, then at her direction, bends over to scoop his ample pecs into the satin-lined cups. When he stands up, Yaku’s mouth drops open and he blinks several times in surprise.
“That’s actually….kind of hot.”
She pulls several tubes of makeup from another drawer and holds them up to Kuroo’s leg, then chooses one and passes it to him along with a small sponge. “Put this on your leg to cover up that pretty kitty. It’ll wash right off when you get home.”
Yaku had come with him when he got the panther. It had taken multiple visits, and he had kept him distracted, both during the tattooing and days of healing that followed. “All that work and just a little makeup covers it up. Did I get everything?”
“You missed a spot back here. Let me.” Yaku kneels and dabs at a few errant spots. Kuroo runs his hand through Yaku’s hair and he leans into the touch, closing his eyes.
Madam X flits to the various racks and pulls an outfit together, then Kuroo steps into the makeshift changing room with a pair of fishnet stockings, a black leather skirt that hits him at mid-thigh, and a sheer, low-cut blouse.
While he’s struggling with the fishnets, he can hear Yaku and Madam X talking together; he can’t hear what they’re saying, but he hears the amused tone in Yaku’s voice and then Madam X laughing.
Once he gets the stockings arranged to his satisfaction, the skirt and blouse are easy. When he pulls back the curtain and does a little twirl to show it off, Yaku and Madam X both clap politely. Madam X makes a few minor adjustments to the outfit, including unbuttoning an extra button on the blouse.
“What was so funny? Did I miss anything important?”
“No, I was telling our hostess about how you used to pretend you were a girl when we played that game online, so it should be easy for you to pretend to be a girl in real life.”
Kuroo rolls his eyes. “Completely different situations and you know it, but I’ll let it slide for now because I want to get us out of here.”
Madam X gently clears her throat and gesture him over to a chair by the mirror.
“Come have a seat and we’ll put some makeup on you — a bit of foundation, heavy eyeliner and a dark red lip should do the trick.”
After lining his eyes, she sighs. “Why do you men always have the nicest long eyelashes? It’s so unfair. I’m just going to curl your lashes,” Kuroo recoils as she brandishes an eyelash curler at him, “and put on a touch of mascara, and then I have some shoes for you.”
Kuroo likes to think he’s open-minded. He’s worn disguises before, even women’s clothing a few times, but he draws the line at stiletto heels.
“Don’t you have some nice flats or combat boots or something?”
She pats him on the arm.
“Believe it or not, the platforms actually make them easier to walk in, and with those legs and that cleavage, nobody’s going to be looking at your face. Trust me.”
To his surprise, the shoes fit like a dream and he hardly wobbles at all.
She steps back and looks him up and down appraisingly. “You look good. We just need to do something about that hair.”
Kuroo glances at Yaku, who is the picture of innocence, though his eyes are dancing with mirth. Madam X looks between them and smiles. “I take it that this is not the first time you’ve had that conversation.”
“You have no idea, ma’am.”
“Not to worry, I have just the thing. Come with me.” She beckons Kuroo to follow her into the other room, where there are several wigs on stands styled with different hairstyles.
“Long or short?”
He glances at the different wigs and points at one on the far end. “That’s the one. My partner out there told me once he liked short hair.”
Several minutes later, he walks out in a severe, chin-length bob with bangs.
Yaku’s jaw drops and he inhales sharply when Kuroo steps out and looks at him seductively from under his curtain of hair.
“You look good,” he says hoarsely and Madam X smiles knowingly.
“What about you, Yakkun? Will that jacket and hat be enough of a disguise for you?”
“Trust me, nobody is going to be looking at me. I’ve texted our friend downstairs and he’s expecting us in a few minutes.” He hands the woman a stack of cash and they both bow deeply.
Kuroo tries not to fidget as they wait for the elevator, but once inside, he can’t help but look himself over in the mirror and try to keep his nervousness under control. He’s worn disguises before, but never one this elaborate and never with the stakes so high.
Yaku catches his eye in the mirror. “Remember what she said: walk heel to toe and take shorter strides. We just have to make it to the street and Kai will be waiting for us. You can do this.”
When the doors slide open, Kuroo takes a deep breath and steps out.
The lobby is full of rival yakuza, and all eyes swerve to him as he walks across the patterned parquet floor, heels sounding unnaturally loud with each step.
Kuroo looks around; nobody shows any sign of recognizing him, everyone’s looking at his legs or his cleavage, so he feels more confident and puts a bit of swivel in his walk. He senses Yaku following a few steps behind, making himself unobtrusive and carrying a large shopping bag with their suits.
They’re halfway across the lobby, almost at the door when they hear footsteps approaching them at a rapid pace and someone calling out “Wait, wait, please wait!”
They freeze, expecting the worst, and Kuroo turns around slowly.
To his surprise, it’s Bokuto Koutarou from the Fukurodani Group. Nekoma is on distant but friendly terms with them; their territories don’t overlap and they don’t compete in any industry, but they’ve never had an official alliance.
Bokuto is gazing at him, awestruck, his eyes blown wide, nearly forgetting the rose in his hand. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I had to say something. You’re so beautiful - you remind me of someone who I’ve always had a crush on. Please accept this rose and my card. I’d love to have dinner with you sometime.”
Kuroo glances at the card and ducks his head, pretending to be bashful, and willing his voice to come out higher to make it convincing. “Nice to meet you, Bokuto-san,”
“What’s your name, beautiful?” Bokuto says eagerly.
Kuroo wishes he had come up with a name earlier and just blurts out the most obvious name he can think of. “Aiko.”
Bokuto’s eyes gleam brightly and his smile is almost blinding. “Aiko, like the princess. It suits you. If you ever want someone who’ll treat you like the princess you are, just give me a call, baby.”
Kuroo smiles at him and accepts the rose and the business card graciously, blushing as their hands touch. He carefully tucks the card into his cleavage (Bokuto’s eyes follow the card and he gives a small strangled gasp), then blows him a kiss over his shoulder and winks at him as they leave.
Behind him, Bokuto is chattering excitedly to one of his lieutenants. “Did you see her, Konoha? Wasn’t she the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”
As promised, Kai is waiting for them and does a double-take when he sees Kuroo. They sink into the seats and Kai pulls out at a sedate pace, speeding up as soon as they reach the end of the block, Kuroo idly turning Bokuto’s card over in his hands.
They deliver their report to Nekomata, who raises an eyebrow at Kuroo’s outfit, but doesn’t say anything until they’re about to leave.
“You’ve certainly got the legs to pull that off, Tetsu-kun. If you’re willing to wear that again, maybe we should make a plan to call Bokuto-kun. An alliance between Nekoma and Fukurodani…intriguing. What do you think, Morisuke-kun?”
Yaku keeps his face carefully neutral, but his voice is flat. “My opinion is irrelevant; whatever the oyabun wishes.”
Nekomata laughs. “Diplomatic as always, my son.”
Finally alone, Yaku crowds Kuroo against the wall of their apartment and kisses him, open-mouthed and messy. Kuroo is just as eager; the stress of their most recent near-death experience makes him needy, each touch making him moan and gasp with pleasure.
He traces the pattern of the fishnets with his hands, then reaches up under Kuroo’s skirt to grab his ass. Kuroo moans and his head falls back against the wall. He slots his leg between Kuroo’s and Kuroo grinds against it shamelessly.
Yaku kisses up his neck and sucks a hickey at the base of his neck, enjoying how it peeks out, hidden by the hair of the wig. “God, you’re gorgeous. I loved watching you strut across the lobby. Everyone was staring at you - they all wanted to fuck you.”
“You’re the only one I want to fuck me, Mori,” Kuroo pants, bending down for more kisses. “Can I leave the shoes on?”
Yaku groans. "Gods, yes."