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Kuroo Tetsurou wakes up when the sun streams into his face, black hair in a mop on top of his head. He cracks his eyes open and groans, the early morning not sitting well with him. It had been a late night of studying, playing video games with Kenma, and then going out with Bokuto. Kuroo looks next to him, where the other boy lays peacefully. Without the gel in hi crazy hair, Bokuto’s two toned locks fall sloppily around his face, the hair trying to go every direction at once. The sunlight streams right above Koutarou, bathing him in an almost angelic light. Everything is still, peaceful, for just one moment.
And then Kuroo sneezes.
The loud noise startles his cat, Shiro, who’s sleeping on his desk. He pops up and runs through the partially open door, probably to go sit in front of the radiator and soak up as much warmth as he can. Shiro isn’t the only one that startles awake, though. The owlish setter blinks his eyes and yawns, stretching his arms and almost hitting his boyfriend in the face. Kuroo ducks away just in time. “Watch where you’re going with those things,” he says, no real heat in his tone. It’s too early for anything like that.
Bokuto only smiles and rolls over on his side, raking a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “It’s so early. Let’s go back to bed.”
Kuroo smirks, leaning down quickly to kiss Koutarou before stretching his own muscles, a yawn passing through his mouth. “We got plenty of bed last night.”
“Mm, not enough.” He snuggles back into the covers, only the top of his head peaking out as he revels in the warmth of the fluffy duvet. He had never been one for mornings, preferring the pale moon to the overbearing sun. It’s dark in the blankets, and his eyes fight to stay open, the smell of Kuroo surrounding him. It smells like comfort. In the fast coming months of winter, warmth was hard to find, and Bokuto wasn’t willing to give it up once he had a source. He complains very vocally when the blankets are ripped off him.
“Bokuto it’s ten in the morning.”
“Give me until noon.”
“This is why you have sleeping problems.”
“Shut up.”
Kuroo huffs and walks to the other side of the bed. He usually isn’t one for waking up early, either, but he has things to do today. With a heaving breath, he picks up his boyfriend bridal style. The spiker yelps and latches on, arms going around Tetsurou’s neck as he curls his body towards the other boy’s chest. It’s no easy feat to carry a man the same size as oneself, but Kuroo makes it look effortless, kicking the door open more so he can get through.
He plops Bokuto on the couch and goes to the kitchen, breathing already calming down. “If you stop complaining I’ll make you breakfast,” he says, already pulling pans out. Over the years he had learned from Kenma, picking up a few tips and tricks in the kitchen. He’s surprisingly skilled, and most of the time the small setter was content to let Kuroo make the meals in a fabulous Kiss the Cook apron. It was a gift from Bokuto.
“Omelettes?” the spiker asks, voice hopeful.
“Sure.” Arms wrap around Kuroo’s waist, a chin on his shoulder. He smiles at how overly domestic this is, but can’t find a reason to hate it. He leans back into his boyfriend, teasingly doing a swing of his hips. Bokuto muffles a groan in Kuroo’s neck. The eggs sizzle in the pan. Kuroo adds cheese.
“What’s the plan for today?”
The chef looks into the pan for a moment before answering. “I was gonna stop by and swing some assignments over to Kenma because he was sick. Mom wants me to pick up some Christmas lights for the house, too.”
“Oh, downtown? There’s a Western festival going on today!”
“Hmm, really?” Kuroo takes the omelettes out of the pan and slides them onto two plates, putting the pan into the sink to soak.
Bokuto inhales half of his before he even sits down. “We should go!”
“I don’t see why not.”
The two finish their breakfasts and get dressed. The weather is almost near freezing, cheek biting wind coasting through the air and fresh snow adorning the ground. It’s just cold enough for it to stay a couple hours before thawing. In another few weeks the sidewalks will be littered with it. Kuroo loves the snow. He doesn’t like the cold, per se, but he likes the pureness of the snow, the way you leave a bit of yourself behind with each imprint of your foot. He loves seeing his breath escape his mouth in billowy puffs. It helps that winter also provides an escape from the oppressive, humid summers that torture Japan.
Bokuto, on the other hand, hates the cold. He revels in the heat, nearly shoves himself into Kuroo’s chest when they change. The window is slightly open, probably pawed by Shiro before he got bored. Cold air has seeped into the room and made it chilly, much more so than it was when they woke up. The two change into warm layers, Bokuto borrowing several shirts from his boyfriend.
By the time they leave, Koutarou has no less than five layers on. He’s also decided on earmuffs, a scarf, gloves, and a wool-lined pair of boots that Kuroo finds too hot. Despite all of this, he’s still shivering, arms crossed tightly across each other, as if keeping his limbs close could generate heat. “I lied, let’s go back inside,” he says, teeth chattering.
“It’ll only be a bit, I promise.”
There’s a glint in Kuroo’s eyes the spiker doesn’t like one bit. “It’s so cold. Kurooooooo,” he whines, shuffling closer to his boyfriend. “Warm me up.”
Tetsurou puts an arm around Bokuto, pulling him close, trying to radiate warmth. “I can think of many ways to warm up when we get home, but for now, deal with the weather. Really, you’re dressed in so many layers already, how can you still be so cold?”
“Practice,” Bokuto mutters grumpily, keeping stride easily with the middle blocker. There’s not much height difference between the two, only a few centimeters, but Bokuto still likes to lord it over Kuroo. The two walk to Kenma’s house first, leaving the homework in the front hall, since his mother informs them that the second year is still sleeping.
When they leave, the sun is up a little higher, although that does nothing for warmth. The clouds are starting to roll in, promising snow or sleet. The walk into town isn’t very long, considering Kuroo lives just outside of downtown Tokyo. The streets are bustling and booming with street vendors and western signs. Some are written in English and they can recognize a word or two.
At some point, Kuroo finds a record with some American man on it, neck pushed back so it looks like he has four chins. He holds it up, shows it to Bokuto, and mouths you with a straight face. Bokuto smiles before flipping him off.
They work their way around the stands, occasionally holding hands. They share quick kisses and put arms around each other. They’re an amusing pair with their sarcastic jabs and teasing lures, but if you looked at them at just the right time, when there’s a soft smile on Kuroo’s face and a glimmer in Bokuto’s eyes, you can tell they would do anything for each other.
By the time they get to a hot chocolate stand, it’s already early evening, and the sun is starting to set at its ridiculously early time. Kuroo pays for their drinks and hands one to his boyfriend, who is hopping from foot to foot, cheeks red from the frosty wind. “Thanks,” he murmurs, taking a long sip, loving the feel of the hot drink making its way down his throat. “We’re not far from my place. Walk me home?”
Kuroo smiles and takes a sip from his own drink. “Sure.” He knows Bokuto is just trying to get out of giving him his clothes back. He does it a lot. Kuroo is pretty sure he’s lost half his closet. The walk to Bokuto’s isn’t very long, and they get there just as the sun slips into the horizon. The front porch isn’t much, just two concrete steps and a small landing, but it’s enough for them to stand on together.
Koutarou smiles as he unlocks the door, waggles his eyebrows when he gets inside. “Do you wanna come in?” he asks, opening the door wider as in invitation.
The house’s warmth reaches Kuroo’s face just slightly. “Is anyone home?”
“Nope. We’ve got the place to ourselves.”
Tentatively, Tetsurou steps, taking his shoes off and putting on his pair of slippers. He’d been around so long Bokuto had bought some for him. It was a nice surprise one day when he came in to find his own pair. The house isn’t very big, but it’s cozy. The living room has just a little bit of mess, showing signs that at least a loud, crazy son lives there. There’s a pot soaking in the kitchen sink, the radio playing soft music for the dog to listen to. It’s warm and inviting.
Alphy, the gorgeous golden, bounds up to him and shoves his nose into Kuroo’s hands. Smiling slightly, the middle blocker scratches the dog behind his ears. Alphy sighs contently and lets his tongue loll out to the side, eyes closed. For Bokuto, on the other hand, the dog jumps up, paws resting on Koutarou’s shoulders, barking once before rubbing their faces together. Alphy jumps down and trots over to the couch, hopping onto it and resting his head on a pillow. Bokuto isn’t far behind, and Kuroo plops down next to him not even a few seconds later.
“Why did you name your dog something so hard to pronounce?” he complains, reaching to pet the dog’s soft fur. Shiro is gonna hate him when he gets home.
“He was my cousin’s dog first, and she got him in America. He already had a name and she didn’t have the heart to rename him. When he got to us he was only two, but it was too late to teach him another name without him getting confused. And Alphy is a good name, shut up.” Kuroo knows Bokuto would kill for his dog.
Bokuto turns the TV on, flipping to some random movie before settling further into the couch. He plops down and puts his feet on Alphy, the poor dog, before putting his head in Kuroo’s lap. There’s a smug smile on his face, because he knows Kuroo won’t move him. Instead, the slightly shorter boy runs his hands through Bokuto’s two-toned hair. It’s surprisingly soft for how much product he puts in it.
The movie drones on, something about a kid getting in trouble at school. Alphy’s soft snores mix in with the mood of the room. It’s content, happy, warm. It feels so utterly like home that Kuroo never wants to leave. His family isn’t bad, but his mom works a lot, and it’s just them. He does odd jobs to help, but volleyball sucks up most of his time. It’s not like they’re struggling, but single mothers always have something to worry about. Kuroo tries to make sure he isn’t one of the reasons she worries.
“It’s getting late, I should get going,” he says, not making any notion to move. It’ll be hell to take the train when it’s so late out. It’s at least five degrees colder than it was when they walked in, and he doesn’t want to deal with that at the moment.
“Stay. My parents are out of town. I’ll be lonely.” There’s a hint of teasing in his voice.
“Yeah, yeah.” Kuroo sends a quick text to his mom that he staying over, and the lets his back rest against the arm of the couch, head resting on the cushions. It’s tight with three big bodies on a thing meant to fit one, but they make it work. Alphy isn’t going anywhere, at least, no matter how subtly Kuroo tries to get him off the couch. The movie ends and starts up a new one. It doesn’t take long for him to recognize it as Up , the movie that breaks your heart in the first five minutes. Like any self-respecting man, Kuroo and Bokuto ignore the fact that they’re both welling up with tears.
As the movie plays the two boys snuggle closer to each other, settling deeper into each other, arms and feet tangling. Alphy has gotten off the couch in favor of eating dinner, so Kuroo can finally stretch his legs. Bokuto places his freezing toes in between Kuroo’s feet, and the middle blocker jerks at the unexpected cold.
Bokuto reaches and gets a blanket to cover them with, despite the fact that their bodies are almost too long for it. Both of their legs stick out past the couch, calves resting awkwardly on the arm of it. Bokuto’s head is like a warm weight on Kuroo’s chest, and he’s subconsciously running his fingers through the two toned hair. He can feel Koutarou falling asleep.
“Bokuto, don’t fall asleep on me.”
“I’m not.” His words slur together, an indication that he is, in fact, falling asleep.
“Mhm, sure.” Kuroo is caught between throwing the ace off the couch or letting him fall asleep.
“I’m not, I promise.”
It took less than five minutes for him to go out cold. Kuroo just smiles softly and blankly watches the TV, thinking about how he ended up here. Everyone thought it would be him and Kenma that would end up together, but that would be like dating a brother. This relationship, the two crazy kings that rule the court, is a tough one. They are competing against each other in every way, but hold together like glue. As much as Kuroo wants to crush Bokuto on the gymnasium floor, he also wants to make sure the owlish boy never has another sad moment in his life.
There’s never a dull moment in their time together, never a moment where Kuroo thinks that a second has turned into an hour. The time they spend together is often cut short by volleyball or other things out of their control. Now, though, as he looks down at Bokuto’s sleeping face, it seems like time has stopped. The world has stopped, for just a moment, to capture this moment in history. The moment Kuroo realizes he is heart achingly in love with Koutarou Bokuto.
The moment Kuroo Tetsurou realizes he would always let Bokuto steal his clothes, let him stay in bed late, let him burrow into his chest when he’s cold. He’ll always let Bokuto whine about movie choices and lie about how he’s not falling asleep. He’ll always let this incredible boy use his lap as a pillow.
For now, just realizing is enough for him. One day he’ll gather these things called feelings and talk about it with Bokuto, but right here, right now, Kuroo falls asleep on the couch, neck at an awkward angle just to make sure Koutarou stays comfortable.
They fall asleep tangled in each other’s dreams.