Archive of Our Own

“Hey, hey, hey!!” 

Kuroo sighed, his breath forming mist in the chill early morning. In one hand he had a black coffee, and the other a still smoking cigarette that was steadily dropping ash into his ashtray. 

Kuroo hadn’t meant to pick up smoking; he’d always thought it an ugly habit. 

Growing up he’d really only been focused on fitness and volleyball and had little time for anything else. His parents had fed him his five a day, sent him to sports camps, and supported him when he stalked home at the age of ten and stated proudly: “I’m going to become a famous volleyball player!” 

But he supposed that after high school life caught up to him a bit. He got into university and picked up sports science and business and enjoyed the classes, but found himself getting distracted by parties and pretty girls and handsome boys. Once, he’d been with a girl in her car when she had offered him a drag with hooded eyes and a hand clasped on his thigh like a promise: and who was he to refuse that come on? 

And, okay, he still kept his figure and went to the gym and enjoyed recreational volleyball. But he also liked letting loose, more than he used to. Maybe he made bad choices. More than once he danced until he blacked out. But he was young and stupid and university was the place you were supposed to be an idiot, right? 

 “Wait… bro, where are you?” 

Kuroo was too big for the cheap deck chair he sprawled on, and it creaked ominously when he leant back to slap his palm against the deck window, saying: “out here!” 

His voice ached after staying up late drinking at Unibar, and he wasn’t sure he had it in him to deal with the hurricane that was Bokuto this early in the morning. Bokuto was his best mate, Kenma notwithstanding, and filled up every space like a shot of serotonin burning down Kuroo’s throat. 

Bokuto careened out of the sliding door and stared askance at Kuroo’s sprawling body. He was wearing his usual casual ensemble: blue t-shirt, white gym shorts, and those all encompassing black knee pads. Next to Kuroo’s sweats, though, Bokuto looked like a bonafide businessman. 

“Dude! What are you doing?!”

Kuroo let his head fall back against the cheap plastic, bringing his cigarette to his lips and inhaling the last dregs of nicotine before tapping the last of it into the ashtray. 

“I’m taking in the gorgeous view, of course.” He gestured widely to his surroundings with an ironic flourish in the hopes of distracting his buddy for a minute longer.  

Kuroo’s student apartment looked out onto the wide expanse of another student apartment, all red brick and dingy fire escapes. The only saving grace was the apartment directly opposite him had a little black cat that would sometimes pass the time resting in the sunlight. 

Kuroo’s avoidant tactic only worked for a beat longer, until Bokuto’s golden eyes swivelled back to him with a glare. He was acting like Kuroo had personally offended him or something. 

With a groan, Kuroo pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Stop staring at me like that. What do you want?” 

“It’s Thursday! Thursday is leg day!” 

And maybe it was the leftover alcohol in his blood, but Kuroo let his eyes drop appreciatively to his best-mate‘s thighs without much thought. Bokuto could probably afford to skip leg day; even hidden beneath his characteristic black tights you could clearly see the definition of his thigh muscles, the alluring curve of his calves. 

When Kuroo’s eyes dragged up lazily, he noted the pinkish blush dusting Bokuto’s cheeks. Experimentally, Kuroo coiled his lips into a cattish smirk, and Bokuto’s cheeks blushed even darker. 

“I’m not meat,” Bokuto said, oddly dainty. He sounded like an eighteenth century maiden declining a dance from an unworthy suitor. Although the image shattered when he reached out and kicked Kuroo’s chair, causing it to slam back onto four legs with a horrific jolt. 

“Okay, okay, sorry!” Kuroo felt uncomfortably scolded, and he pushed the thoughts of Bokuto’s sweaty legs out of his head with a hard shove.  

“Get up,” Bokuto’s gaze fell to the ashtray with a disapproving frown for just a moment, until his quintessential smile bloomed and he clapped his hands together: “Can’t skip gym, Kuroo. Not on leg day. Up you get!” 

Realising he was not going to get out of this one, Kuroo stood up and stretched with a long, drawn out yawn. 

He said candidly: “I got blueballed yesterday by some twink at Unibar. People only really go there alone to get laid. It was rude.”  

Bokuto didn’t reply straight away, he’d already turned to walk through Kuroo’s shoebox apartment, opening drawers as if he owned the place. “You need to work on your ass, man. Then things like this wouldn’t happen to you,” Bokuto proposed. 

Kuroo leaned in the doorway of his balcony and watched Bokuto as he grabbed at random a black singlet top and track pants for Kuroo to wear. His friend didn’t need to work on his ass. Like his thighs, Bokuto’s butt was a huge distraction. 

He remembered suddenly the way Bokuto had violently unseated him after the last time he’d thought his friend beautiful, and hurried to say: “I’m perfect already, Bo. No work needed.” 

“Of course you are!” Bokuto spun around, now holding Kuroo’s underwear. “You’re literally the most handsome guy I know. Maybe he just wasn’t feeling it.” Then he lobbed the clothes at Kuroo’s face. “I really can’t imagine why.”

Kuroo caught them with a rueful scoff: “I don’t think he liked the cigarettes, actually.” 

“Then quit.” 

“It’s-.”

“‘Not that easy’. I know. But it is. Easy, that is. You’ve got me! And you know Kenma hates the smell.” 

“Kenma loves me.” Kuroo took his shirt off and threw it onto his bed. He tossed up taking a shower, but sniffed his armpits and decided to just have one after he came home. “Besides, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m completely fine.”

Bokuto’s golden eyes melted with concern: “I am worried. I was talking to Kenma and-,”

“Since when do you two talk?”

“-we both think you need to quit sooner rather than later.” 

Kuroo thought about how he already had tentative plans to go out again tonight. If he had a healthy distraction he might not feel the need to fill his nights with mindless entertainment like booze and fags and casual sex. 

Kuroo shoved his legs into his sweats and considered what made him feel good. Thankfully, his brain supplied an answer fairly easily.

Kuroo threw the suggestion over his shoulder, “Come out with me tonight, will you?” 

“Eh… I have training until 9pm.” 

“After, then.” Kuroo fluttered his eyelashes, “I won’t smoke once.”

“Blackmail!” 

“I'll buy you drinks as well.” 

“Plying me with alcohol and blackmail!”

Kuroo filled up his water bottle and dropped some electrolyte tablets in with a laugh: “So that’s a yes?” 

“Hell yes!” 

***

At the gym Bokuto was grunting in the leg press machine. Kuroo was getting distracted from his hamstring curls by his friend's sweaty calves as he pushed out and back and out again. Laying on his front with his cheek pressed into his gym towel, he found himself spacing out and barely focusing on his own sets. 

He was doing them, sure, but not very well. 

Bokuto reached up to wipe sweat from his forehead with his towel, then his eyes slashed across the machines to Kuroo, barking: “oi! Are you doing your sets?”

Tiredly, Kuroo replied, “Too busy watching you, big boy.” 

Bokuto looked away, “eh, right back at you.” But his tone had changed just a little, like his heart wasn’t quite in it. 

Kuroo rolled his eyes and finished his sets in silence. He was used to Bokuto’s mood swings. After he finished his set he filled up Bokuto’s water bottle for him and whatever Kuroo had done wrong would be forgiven. 

***

Bokuto ended up bringing Akaashi along in the evening. He wasn’t really Kuroo’s definition of a good time when it came to clubs, but he had to assume it was a form of backup for if Kuroo went off the rails. 

Bokuto was malleable, especially when it came to Kuroo. Three drinks in and Bokuto would be likely to accept the very cigarette he was trying to save Kuroo from.

“Sorry he dragged you along, Akaashi,” Kuroo said preemptively when the duo finally found him outside UniBar. Behind them crowds of students all stood under twinkling sheets of fairy lights laughing and yelling as bass pulsed behind concrete walls. “I know this isn’t really your scene.” 

Akaashi rolled his eyes, “it’s okay. I’ve third-wheeled with you two enough times to get used to it.” 

He was wearing a pale grey sweater, dress pants, and black rimmed glasses that made him look like a college professor. He stood out like a sore thumb next to Kuroo in his loose tank top and tight jeans, and he most definitely stood out amidst the crowd of tipsy twenty-somethings milling around them. 

“‘Kaashi, you’d never be a third wheel to me,” Bokuto whined plaintively. 

Akaashi sighed deeply in response. He ignored Bokuto and turned without further reply, leading the way towards the bouncers at the entrance of the bar. Bokuto made grabby hands at his friends back, and pouted dramatically at being ignored. 

Kuroo would like to say he laughed very coolly, but really it just came out as a cackle. He bumped shoulders with Bokuto, “c’mon, pal. There’s no rest for the wicked!” 

Bokuto got carded. 

There were a few moments of frantic pocket slapping and squawking as he searched for his ID that had Kuroo laughing so hard the bouncer had to tell him to calm down. That only made him laugh harder until tears pooled at the corner of his eyes. 

When they finally made it inside, Bokuto leapt a few feet into the air and raced towards the bar to get the first round, leaving Kuroo  and Akaashi to find a booth. Bokuto’s stoic buddy directed them wordlessly towards the mezzanine, which tended to be a bit quieter as it was further from the dimly lit dance floor. 

Kuroo liked Akaashi well enough, but he occasionally got the impression that Bokuto’s friend wasn’t too fond of him anymore. To his credit, Akaashi usually kept it simple; displeased eyebrow crinkles or lip purses when Kuroo said something particularly snide or if he flirted too hard with strangers.

Kuroo couldn’t remember what he said half the time, but he could recall a particularly nasty incident. Akaashi had snapped at him with an acerbic: “Jesus Christ, real nice, Kuroo. For fucks sake, keep it to yourself,” before stalking away with a cowed Bokuto in tow. 

Kuroo couldn’t remember what he’d said to incite such a reaction, but Akaashi had not been happy with him. Kuroo tended to keep his more flirtatious comments to himself after that. 

Nevertheless, today was not that day, and Kuroo was not a wuss. He would not allow his spirit to be dampened by a man wearing an argyle sweater to a club. 

He slid into the booth first and smirked upwards as Akaashi slid gracefully opposite him, “so, how have you been?” 

“Better than you, I believe,” Akaashi looked unimpressed, which he usually did. Except now there was an added layer of malcontent in his usually quite flat gaze.

He tilted head to the side and asked sweetly, “and what’s that supposed to mean?” 

Akaashi didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he leant back in the booth and shut his eyes, heaving a big sigh. He was studying literature or something, so Kuroo could only assume his days were filled with many boring lectures. 

Instead of pushing his luck, Kuroo started eying the other booths, picking out potential targets for later in the night. He made eye contact with a pretty girl standing at a table across the room and winked, then let his eyes wander to a handsome man with tattoos heading towards the dancefloor. He looked older, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. 

When he refocused on Akaashi after a few beats, his discontented gaze had shifted into something much, much darker. Kuroo felt his stomach curdle at the expression, getting traumatic flashbacks to his mother yelling at him many times during his youth. 

Honestly, it was starting to get on Kuroo’s nerves. 

“So, what’s your damage, bro?” He challenged, not letting his frustration bleed into his voice. Keep it cool, keep it chill. 

It would break Bokuto’s heart to think his two best friends weren’t getting along, so Kuroo willed himself to keep things civil. 

Akaashi, to his credit, seemed to have a similar thought process. His eyes flicked around quickly, checking if Bokuto was within ear shot, before he raised his eyebrows at Kuroo in disbelief: “you’re a smart guy, Kuroo. You cannot possibly be that blind.”

“What are you talking about?” Kuroo replied with a genuine crease to his brow. “We just got here, mate.”  

“Hey, hey! Whatcha looking so mad about, guys?” 

Kuroo’s vision was suddenly taken up by Bokuto, who brandished three beers with a happy smile, like a shot of pure serotonin.  

Except when he was being annoying as shit. 

Which actually wasn’t that often.

Bokuto elbowed Kuroo over and squished in next to him. “Seriously, turn those frowns upside down.” 

But mostly he was just the greatest. Kuroo levelled Bokuto with a dopey grin. 

Akaashi groaned, a hand over his eyes. He muttered to himself: “no, yeah. You are that blind. What was I expecting?” 

Kuroo ignored him, hooting and scooping up his first drink of the night with a rowdy laugh. 

“No shots to start things off, Bo? You’re getting old.”

“Old! You’re older than me!”

Kuroo felt a desperate itch under his skin to get the night going fast, to drown himself in booze and dancing. His stomach was a little tight with nerves or excitement or both, and having Bokuto squished next to him wasn’t helping. His friend practically vibrated with a matching excitement. 

Kuroo curled his lips into a knowing smile and knocked his beer bottle against Bokuto’s lackadaisically. 

“Bet you can’t down yours in ten,” Kuroo challenged.

“‘Course I can.” 

“Best of five?”

Bokuto grinned, “Yeah!”

“Okay on three… three, two, one-.”

Bokuto shouted: “three!!” as Kuroo stated, slightly less loudly but just as intensely: “three.”

Bokuto wailed, hitting the table with the palm of his hand: “damn! How do you always get me on those bro.”

Kuroo slung his arm around Bokuto’s broad shoulders and shrugged, “you always say three when it’s out of five, Bro-kuto.” 

“Do not.”

“Do too! Akaashi will back me up on this.” Kuroo’s eyes dragged to the quietest of their group, who was staring at them both with the vacant expression he only adopted when the two of them were acting like dude bros. “Doesn’t he, ‘Kaashi,” Kuroo prodded. 

“Akaashi,” Akaashi reprimanded pointedly. Then, because Kuroo knew Akaashi knew that Bokuto would be sad to see them bicker, Akaashi followed up gently: “and yes, Bokuto. You do always choose three. Next time, please try two.” 

Bokuto pouted beneath Kuroo’s arm, then with a pink blush on his cheeks that hadn’t been present earlier, wiggled out and said, “okay fine. You two win. Count me in, I got this!” 

Kuroo hooted. He loved this part, the rowdy cheering and the camaraderie that came with counting down the chugging of a cold beer. It didn’t matter he was the only one in on it, because he was doing it with Bokuto.

Kuroo launched into the only drinking song he knew, egging Bokuto on with a slap between his broad shoulder blades. “We like to drink with BoBo, ‘cos BoBo is our mate. We like to drink with BoBo, he gets it down in ten! nine! eight! seven! six! five- oh.”

Bokuto was finished. Somehow, he’d downed the whole bottle in the time it took Kuroo to blink. 

Kuroo stared in shock at his friend, then grinned, “Dude, awesome!”

Sure, Kuroo was an adult, and he could act mature when he needed to, but sometimes all he wanted to do was be a stupid boy. Bokuto had always been able to bring that side out of him without any fanfare.  

“Alright,” Kuroo raised his beer and faux-cheered Akaashi, who rolled his eyes. He decided he didn’t need a bet, he just wanted to beat Bokuto at his own game. “Count me in, Bo. I’ll beat you for sure.” 

Bokuto narrowed his eyes, competitive streak activating. He pointed at Kuroo and challenged: “Keep on dreaming, Kuroo.” 

Kuroo smirked, leaning in and lowering his voice in Bokuto’s direction. “Count me in then, if you’re so sure.” 

Bokuto’s pupils dilated, most likely because he was gearing up to shout very loudly. When he drew in a breath to begin, Akaashi winced preemptively and muttered, “yeah, this is happening…” 

Bokuto ignored him, copying the same jaunty tune that Kuroo had sung not moments before.: “we like to drink with Kuroo, ‘cos Kuroo is our mate! We like to drink with Kuroo, he gets it down in ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six- you’re spilling no fair! Five! Four! Haha! You lose!”” 

Kuroo emerged from his beer and spluttered as Bokuto slapped him on the back like an exuberant dog. He gasped: “I did not spill.” But as he looked down he saw he still had at least two fingers left in the bottom of his bottle, so he knew logically he had to admit defeat. 

Bokuto saw Kuroo’s defeated expression and crowed, whipping around to slap Akashi’s shoulder in celebration: “hah! I’m the best! Aren’t I, ‘Kaashi?” 

Akaashi sipped his drink idly and nodded seriously, “you are the very best at drinking cheap beer.” 

Akaashi was smiling at Bokuto’s rowdiness, though. Kuroo was certain this was because Kuroo had just been thoroughly humiliated. 

“Alright then,” Kuroo stood up as Bokuto started talking to Akaashi excitedly, “I’m getting the next round. Have fun kids.” 

At the bar, Kuroo flirted with the same girl he’d winked at before while he waited. She was receptive, leaning in and touching his upper arm. He shouted her drink with a smile.  

When he got back with a tray of shots and a girl in tow he found Bokuto and Akaashi in a serious discussion that evaporated by the time he made it to the table. 

“Hey fellas, this is… uh…” 

“Lily,” Lily supplied. 

“Lily!” Kuroo parroted. 

Lily didn’t last long at their table. Bokuto and Kuroo got too excited taking shots and she inevitably got waved away by one of her other friends on the dancefloor. 

When Kuroo noticed she’d vanished, about half an hour after she’d left,  he groaned and smacked his face, “man. She was hot. Why’d you distract me, Bo?”

Bokuto glanced at Akaashi, who had been looking increasingly frustrated as the music got increasingly louder. Now, it was almost exclusively a pulse heavy bass beat that Kuroo could feel through his shoes.

Something in Bokuto’s face had also changed, just a little bit, the slightest tense crease between his brows that looked so uncharacteristic on his best friend's face. The expression was gone in the blink of an eye.

Well, he needed a new dance partner anyway. With a leering grin, Kuroo leant in close until his breath fanned Bokuto’s plush lips, “come dance with me?” 

Bokuto’s eyes tracked Kuroo’s lips for a split second, before skittering nervously back up to his eyes. His cheeks blushed prettily from the shots they’d downed a few minutes ago, and he sounded weakly unsure when he replied: “okay, if you want.” 

Bokuto wasn’t a natural dancer. It had taken a fair few outings for him to perfect the hip movements required to appear both casual and sexy. He’d almost gotten it down now, and while it wasn’t perfect, he was still a sight to behold. Kuroo grinned at his friend, subtly glancing around and noticing the two of them garnering a few appreciative looks. 

“You’re hot, Bo,” Kuroo purred teasingly. “Those girls over there are looking at you.” 

Bokuto pressed a little closer to Kuroo to avoid hitting the people dancing around them. If it wasn’t so dark, he’d probably be a blushing mess.

Bokuto’s voice was raw and a little off when he leant in and spoke against Kuroo’s ear: “They’re looking at you.” 

Kuroo considered that that could be correct. He knew he had a roguish charm that suited the dim lighting of Unibar’s dancefloor. But Bokuto was selling himself insanely short if he thought no-one was staring at him. 

The bassline pulsed through Kuroo’s blood, heady, sending dark rivulets of something hot and exciting pooling in his stomach. Bokuto looked… Kuroo found himself swallowing thickly. His hands reached out to touch Bokuto’s neck, skirting dangerously over his jawline and lips. 

Those plush lips parted, and his eyes looked glassy in the dark as Kuroo inched closer, danced sweeter, looping his fingers into Bokuto’s jeans in an attempt to pull him close enough to press their bodies together-

Firm hands clasped Kuroo’s wrists, suddenly. Bokuto said: “stop it, man.” 

“Why?” Kuroo asked, foggy and confused. Something electric had passed between the two of them, before, and he wanted more of it. “You like dancing with me, don’t you?”

Bokuto’s cheeks were flushed, his hair was unkempt. “Yeah, I know, I do.” He took a step back and almost bumped into a group of girls giggling and dancing around them.

Kuroo didn’t understand. “Then what’s the problem?” 

Bokuto glanced towards Akaashi, their eyes finding each other easily even in the dark. 

Kuroo resented the sudden connection between the two of them when their eyes met from across the crowded dance floor. Bokuto only looked at his childhood friend like that when he was feeling anxious and  uncomfortable. The idea that Kuroo had made him feel either of those things made a stone lodge uncomfortably in his throat.  

“Look, you don’t want to dance anymore,” Kuroo stepped back, hands up. He felt wobbly and not at all equipped for this conversation. “That’s cool. Can we go get another round, though? I’m not ready to go home yet.” 

Home. In a dorm by himself in the dark. 

For a moment Kuroo thought this discomforting moment would last forever with the both of them suspended in liminal time, never quite recovering from his perceived misstep. Two friends cursed to stare at each other on a dirty dancefloor, Kuroo’s heart beating painfully in his chest as his tipsy brain strobed along with the music and lights, confused and discombobulated. 

Luckily, the strange moment passed when Bokuto smiled beautifully, making Kuroo’s heart skip a beat with relief. “Yeah, okay.” 

It could have been thirty minutes or two hours later that the three of them were crammed back into their mezzanine booth. Bokuto was speaking, loud and dramatic with his exuberant gesturing and laughter. Akaashi was watching him, seemingly content to listen to his friend's drunken rambling despite the noise all around him. 

“Do you guys remember in high school, like all the way back when we were first years and we hardly knew each other and it was super awkward when during training camp…”

Kuroo watched Bokuto reminisce with a smile on his face. He didn’t remember, in all honesty, Bokuto could have been making it all up for all Kuroo knew. Not that Bokuto would do that, though. Bokuto had no filter, but he was at his core a truthful, sincere person. In all the time Kuroo had known him Bokuto had never once lied, white or otherwise. It was such a stark contrast to Kuroo’s easy silver tongue that it sometimes floored him how different they were beneath the surface. 

On darker days it made him question why Bokuto trusted him at all. 

But the picture Bokuto was painting was so sweet and sentimental that Kuroo found his heart aching at the story it told. 

When they were just a bunch of boys playing volleyball together; their only concern in life being if they’d make the starting lineup and pop quizzes. Bokuto met Kuroo’s eyes and for a beat it felt like time stopped, the air cloying like sweet honey. 

He didn’t really notice Bokuto getting up for another round, and Kuroo’s head was fuzzy enough that it took him longer than normal to notice Akaashi eying him from across the booth. Bokuto’s friend hadn’t drunk all that much. 

Instead of straining himself to figure out why, Kuroo asked icily, “what do you want?”

“You’re really stupid,” Akaashi replied simply. He nursed the dregs of his first and only beer. His eyes were closed off and didn’t give anything away on what he could possibly mean. “If you keep going like this, you might lose him.”

That was so cryptic that Kuroo’s head swam uncomfortably, and he felt distinctly that he wanted to go home. Preferably soon, preferably with someone to warm his bed. 

“And you should know I’ll kill you if you hurt him,” Akaashi continued. 

And that felt like overkill. 

“Fuck you, man.” Kuroo tried to stand but found himself wobbling instead. Before he could hoist himself up and out of the booth Bokuto returned, this time with pretty pink cocktails. The sight of his beefy friend holding two dainty strawberry daiquiri’s made Kuroo promptly forget about Akaashi being a complete dick. 

Instead, he flopped back into his seat and cackled with his arm clutching his stomach.

Bright red, Bokuto placed them down gently and whined, “stop laughing at me! I asked the bartender what she liked and she told me this so this is what we have.” 

“We’re at a club, who has a daiquiri at a club?”

“Stop!” 

“God, I love you, man.” Kuroo lifted his drink and sucked delicately on the straw. 

It was sweet and fresh and good. He moaned obnoxiously and wiggled his eyebrows at Bokuto, who in return shoved Kuroo’s shoulder firmly as he squished back into the booth. His larger body pressed against Kuroo made him feel swathed like a little baby, protected from the harsh outside world. 

Bokuto started rambling again. He was well and truly wasted, now. His words slurring and body swaying slightly to the beat of the bass. Kuroo watched his friend while he thought about who he might take home with him tonight. 

He knew logically he should try and sleep alone, feel okay with himself in the dark without another body to keep him warm. But his monkey brain wanted sex, wanted to kiss someone and whisper dirty words into their ears while he made them moan. 

Kuroo found himself leaning into Bokuto, chin resting on his hand as he watched his friend talking. Using his tongue, he caught the straw between his lips and sucked gently, watching as Bokuto’s eyes darted to the sight with a swallow. 

Kuroo’s eyes hooded even more than they already were. He’d always known Bokuto was just as, if not more, attractive than the other people he often chased. He may not have noticed so much in high school when puberty was a pressing concern and volleyball felt like the world. But now, as an adult, with adult ideas and hormones and a room in university housing that was entirely his own, Kuroo’s brain began to imagine a world where he took what he wanted. 

And what he wanted right now- Bokuto gasped. Under the table, Kuroo’s fingers had spidered their way up his upper thigh and came to rest there. His lips still wrapped around the straw, curled into a smirk. 

Is this what Kenma had meant, those days ago, when he’d looked up from his video game for a beat to call Kuroo out for ‘self-destructing’? 

Kuroo loved Bokuto, as a friend maybe, but also- Bokuto shifted away, and the heady atmosphere broke like glass. 

His friend's cheeks were painted pretty pink, but his body was uncomfortably tense when he said shakily: “You’re drunk, dude. Stop.”

Kuroo felt hot and cold all at once. There was something in Bokuto’s tone that even halfway to wasted he could parse out the seriousness of it. A brick wall slamming down between them that had never been present before. Bokuto hadn’t even sounded that firm, or cold. Really, he’d just sounded scared. 

Kuroo backpedalled hastily, pushing himself off the stupid daiquiri and away from the comfortable warmth of Bokuto’s body. 

He laughed, the sound ugly and fake. “Just playing, bro.”

But he knew Bokuto knew that there had been a hint of truth to it. Bokuto must know it wasn’t just a joke, not entirely, because Kuroo’s want had been written all over his face. 

And like the coward he was, Kuroo turned tail and hid. With a grandiosity he did not feel, he stood and yelled: “Shots are on me!” 

The strangers around them cheered, and Kuroo stood to let himself get swept up in the moment. He ignored the gaze burning into the back of his head. He was too afraid to look. 

***

“You’re an asshole.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Kuroo looked up from his phone to find Akaashi glaring at him with searing intensity. He was wearing the usual ensemble, and looked very out of place in the dingy parking lot behind the dumpsters where Kuroo liked to escape to smoke between lectures. 

“I said, fuckhead, that you’re an asshole.” 

“I heard that part, buddy, I was asking ‘why?’” He couldn’t help the way he retorted sharply, it was just the way he was. But Kuroo knew why Akaashi was coming for him, and he felt defensive even if he had no right to be. 

“Are you that daft?” Akaashi snapped. “You know he's into you. You know because you flirt with him all the time just for shits and giggles. You did it in high school and I thought you’d grown the fuck up, but apparently not. No, you’ve just decided to take it to a whole new level of sociopathy.” 

This time, Kuroo’s shocked, “Excuse me?” wasn’t fake. He stopped leaning on the brick wall and gave Akaashi his full attention. 

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “Fuck you, Kuroo. Seriously. Grow the fuck up.” His stormy gaze honed in on the cigarette in his fingers with a sneer, “and stop smoking, now. It’s bad for your health.” 

Still in a state of shock, Kuroo’s dumb brain wondered how Akaashi had even found him in their large campus - which wasn’t important at all, all things considered, and completely besides the point. 

Either way Akaashi did not wait for Kuroo to reply, because he had already left with a prim pivoting motion that left Kuroo floundering in his wake like a moron. 

He felt unmoored and deeply unsettled.  Every sinew in his body suddenly pulled taut with an intense, pressurised anxiety. 

🐈‍⬛: kenma 

🐈: im in class what

🐈‍⬛: wdym its 4pm

🐈: detention

🐈‍⬛: the fuck did you do

🐈‍⬛: axrually nvm

🐈‍⬛: we need to talk avt me

🐈: can you try and type normally 

🐈‍⬛: am i the worst?

🐈: (🐈 is typing) 

🐈: (🐈 is typing) 

The flickering text disappeared, and Kuroo wondered what his friend could be thinking about so deeply. It seemed like an easy question. Yes. No. Hopefully no.

🐈: it depends 

🐈‍⬛: ONE WHAT??

🐈: *on. i knew you’d get like this

🐈: why do you ask

🐈: is this because i said you were self-destructing last week 

🐈: because you are

🐈: nine months out of highschool and you’re already an alcoholic pervert who smokes a pack a day

🐈: ITS BAD

🐈‍⬛: NOT A PACK

Kuroo looked at the cigarette in his hand and curled his lip in disgust. He threw it on the floor and stepped on it. 

🐈: doesn’t change anything

🐈: so what did bring this on. your ability to self reflect is sub-standard so it’s quite out of character 

🐈‍⬛: dude… kick me while im down why don’t you

🐈: it’s true 

🐈: but seriously…?

Kenma sent a sticker of a cat with big beseeching eyes and blushing cheeks which seemed to say: you can trust me, man. Lay your woes on me! 

🐈‍⬛: if some1 from our highschool days liked me, and i only just found out abt it, but before i found out abt it i kinda came onto them and flirted with them and made them v uncomfy……. BUT AT THE TIME I DIDNT KNOW.. am i an asshole? 

🐈: (🐈 is typing) 

A pause. 

🐈: (🐈 is typing) 

Another pause. Kuroo started to get twitchy. 

🐈: (🐈 is typing) 

🐈: this is about bokuto, isn’t it

🐈: i’ve been waiting for this day to come 

🐈: and yes, you are the asshole for coming on to him. everybody knows he wants to fuck you (tenderly) 

🐈‍⬛: I DID NOT

Kuroo’s heart had dropped out of his chest, and he felt vaguely unwell as he slid his back down the wall until he was splayed out on the dirty dumpster floor. The dirty dumpster floor he deserved, apparently. 

🐈: did you ever wonder why no girls hit on you when he was with you? no guys either? come on! 

Usually Kuroo liked talking to Kenma on messenger. His quiet buddy said a lot more with his fingers than he ever did with his mouth. Now, however, he was beginning to lament it. 

🐈: hinata asked me once if you were dating. HINATA! i’m surprised he even knows what dating is

🐈: and at the last training camp ALL the managers were talking about how you two would make a handsome couple 🤢🤮 i was trying to play my game in peace and they wouldn’t stop cooing over you guys 

🐈: also thanks a tonne shitface. now i lost a bet

🐈‍⬛: ….. bet?

🐈: with the team. whether or not bokuto would break and confess first or you would get your head out of your ass and realise he was into you

🐈‍⬛: thx 4 the vote of co fide ce 

Kuroo didn’t tell Kenma that Kuroo hadn’t figured it out. He’d needed it yelled in his face while he ruined his life and lungs hiding behind a dumpster evading campus security. 

How low he had fallen in only 9-months. 

How despicable. 

How sad. 

Kuroo reached into his pocket and drew out his cigarettes. He glared at them. Then, he opened the dumpster and threw them in with an angry yell.

He would never smoke again. 

***

The next day, halfway through a lecture of physiology, Kuroo got the urge to text Bokuto. Knew that he had to text him, that he had to try and fix things. 

He’d had trouble sleeping and was feeling jittery having not had his morning smoke. Instead, he’d made a black coffee and stared resolutely at the opposite blocks' fire escape and considered how he could have drastically misread the guy who he thought he’d known inside and out. 

Kuroo had always known Bokuto was hot. Had always been into his exuberance, the way he spiked a ball on the court, his infectious laughter and attitude and face and body. He was charismatic to an insane degree. Kind and sensitive, as well. 

Kuroo knew he was only one of many blinded by Bokuto’s sun. 

He’d always known this about himself, it wasn’t anything new, so why was this hitting him like a freight train? 

Because you fucked it up. Kuroo’s brain supplied the words easily, they’d been sitting at the tip of his tongue all day, ever since Akaashi had hunted him down. Kuroo, with all his bravado and faux-confidence, had stepped too close to the edge and was now falling uncontrollably towards a painful and distant ocean. 

It was like having an existential crisis. Except people were only meant to have those when they hit fifty, right? Kuroo wasn’t 50. He was barely 20. It was all extremely off-putting, and made him want to scream, or perhaps run back to his mother and ask for a long hug. 

Slumped in the back row so the lecturer couldn’t see, he unlocked his phone and started typing. 

🐈‍⬛: Hey bud still good for the gym tomorrow morning ?

Nice and easy. Just two pals being pals. Kuroo almost went to put his phone away when he saw ‘read 2:34pm’ pop up. He wasn’t meant to read it so quickly! Except, looking back, Bokuto almost always read Kuroo’s texts quickly. Almost like he was waiting for them… prioritising them…

🦉: (is typing)

And then nothing. Ah, man. He had really fucked up. Usually, Bokuto’s texts resembled his general stream of consciousness. Erratic and bordering on too much. One turned to five turning to sixteen, until one morning Kuroo had looked at his phone bleary eyed to find thirty messages sent overnight. 

Kuroo still took the time to read through each one, though. 

🦉: (is typing)

Come on, man. It was a yes or no question!

But no reply came. Kuroo stared in shock at his screen for another three minutes before he finally put his phone away. His fingers were shaking, and he couldn’t hear a word the lecturer was saying.  

Blah, blah, blah. 

Blah.

Kuroo stood and shoved his shit into his bag, uncaring of the entire lecture hall turning to stare. He needed out. He needed a smoke. 

***

“I had another cigarette on the way home, even though I said I wouldn’t anymore. I want another one now.”

“Well, don’t.” The tinny voice of Kuroo’s elder sister scolded through the phone line. She was on loudspeaker while Kuroo finally got around to doing the dishes that had been piling up in his kitchen sink. 

Kuroo had to admit he’d gotten bad at touching base with his family since moving out. But there was something about having your heart thrown point blank off a building by the concept of your best bro-buddy being into you that made Kuroo want to reconnect with his feminine side. 

“How’s mum?” 

“Wondering why her youngest son doesn’t call her.”

“I called her last week.” 

“Sure you did.” Kuroo’s sister clicked her tongue disapprovingly, and continued: “are you going to all your classes?” 

“Yes.” Most of them, anyway. 

“You’re not out late every night are you?” 

Kuroo paused: “not every night.” 

“Drinking? Girls?” 

Kuroo hung his head even though his sister wouldn’t be able to see him, and mumbled guiltily: “No…” 

Kuroo’s older sister had his mothers sharp tongue. “Yeah, real cute. See, I always thought you’d go off the rails after high school. Only a freak could be as anally retentive about volleyball like you; always going to class so you don’t miss practice and doing all those extra-curricular camps. I can’t say I’m happy to be right, though.” 

Kuroo dropped the plate he was holding into his soapy dish water in shock: “Hey!” 

“You’re the baby of the family, Kuroo. I’m allowed to scold you for bad choices. Seriously, I’ve just graduated honours at med school so mum is in a great mood. Don’t let her down by becoming the black sheep at Christmas smelling of cigarette smoke and STD’s.” 

“You sound so much like Kenma it’s genuinely frightening.” 

“Good! Better him than you, or that other one with the silver hair. Now that one was always a bit slow.” 

Kuroo winced, his skin tightening uncomfortably at the insinuation. He retorted firmly: “Bo isn’t an idiot.” 

“I don’t know what he’s like alone: maybe he’s Einstein. But with you he’s a certified fucknugget.” 

“Is that official med school lingo?” 

“Yes. Now tell me what’s wrong,” her voice became softer suddenly. The change in tone gave Kuroo whiplash. Dimly, he heard a train conductor start listing off upcoming stations. The idea of his sister speaking full volume about his shitty life on public transport made him squirm in discomfort. But he supposed that he deserved to feel shame for how he’d been unwittingly treating Bokuto for years. 

Had it really been years? Kuroo’s instinct to deflect negative emotion kicked in: “What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong.”

His sister scoffed, and he could picture her clear as day rolling her eyes at his meagre attempt at deflection: “Your voice changed when you talked about that Bokuto kid. Are you fighting? What did you do this time?”

“Why is it that only I could be the problem in this scenario?”

“Kuroo,” she sighed deeply, “don’t make me answer that.” 

He gave up on the dishes. Leaving the dirty water to congeal in the sink he washed his hands and picked up the phone, bringing it to his ear and collapsing on his unmade bed. “I fucked up, I think.”

“How? Wait, let me guess: you told him his eyebrows needed maintenance. No, no: you definitely flirted with his girlfriend.” 

Kuroo jolted upright, offended: “Who do you take me for? I’d never cheat. Also, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with his eyebrows don’t be fucking rude-,” His sister was laughing. Kuroo froze, then let out a frustrated growl that only a sibling could rip out of him and then fell back in the bed with a disgruntled: “shut up.”

“At least it broke you out of whatever emo-kid slump you’ve found yourself in.”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” 

“Yes, you do,” she crooned.

Kuroo’s stomach tightened with nerves. He held his phone to his ear and listened to his sisters breathing for a few seconds. He felt suddenly that if he spoke it into the world then it would be real, be fact. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to take that leap. 

“Kuroo…” she pressed. 

Realistically, Kuroo knew his sister only had his best interest at heart. Throughout high school she had been his first port of call when he needed advice with school or girls or his future. She’d scolded him enough times for him to understand that his sister knew best in most situations. 

Like ripping off a bandaid, he said quickly: “I think Bokuto is into me.” 

“Huh.”

“Yeah. I mean, I think I know he’s into me.”

“Are you sure this isn’t just your big head telling you the pretty boy likes you?” 

Kuroo closed his eyes and wished he could step onto the balcony for a smoke. He’d stare at the opposite student accommodation and hope the cute black cat would be sitting in the window. The smoke and the cat would ease his skyrocketing nerves. 

Instead of answering his sister, he mumbled: “he is pretty.”

“I’ll ask again; you’re sure this isn’t your ego talking?”

“Well, both Kenma and Akaashi, Bo’s best mate, have scolded me for being a selfish prick for accidentally flirting with him.”

She scoffed, “You’ve never flirted accidentally in your life, Kuroo.”

Floored, Kuroo thought back to his high school days, the last nine months. About how each time he made suggestive comments to Bokuto, he’d actively considered his actions before doing so and still made the choice to proceed. 

Oh, fuck. 

Kuroo didn’t want to unpack that can of worms. So instead he whined: “I feel really bad about it. I think I made him super uncomfortable the other night. He hasn’t texted me since. I don’t want him to hate me.”

There was a few seconds of silence, his sister obviously considering things hard on her end of the line. “Well, firstly, he wouldn’t hate you. Isn’t the problem the exact opposite? And secondly, I wouldn’t feel too bad about this. I think you can sort things out.”  

Kuroo perked up, selfishly wanting to make himself feel better: “I shouldn’t feel bad?” 

“It couldn’t have been that obvious,” she said easily. “I know Kenma said it was, and maybe people picked up on it over time. But there’s a difference when you’re looking in as an impartial viewer versus being the one in the hot seat. I know you, little bro. You’re good at people. So yeah, you flirted, maybe you did more than flirt sometimes, I don't know. But people make tactical errors, they can be stupid. Even you, little man. I wouldn’t take it to heart.”

Kuroo almost laughed. Finally, someone on his side! But still, something didn’t feel quite right. He thought about Bokuto ignoring his texts for the first time ever, about Akaashi yelling at him. 

“I still feel bad. Bo… he’s my boy. I love him. Doesn’t this… change things?” 

“If you let it,” his sister paused. “Look, I’m almost at my stop and I need to go. I’m sorry I can’t speak more. But Kuroo… I think you just need to talk to Bokuto and clear the air. I called him an idiot but he’s a good kid. If you explained that you’re not interested, he’d accept it.”

Kuroo lay boneless on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling oddly like he was floating. He dimly heard his sister order him to call their mum on the weekend, before she hung up and was gone. He lay there for many minutes in a dull haze as he pondered his sister's parting words. 

‘If you explained that you’re not interested, he’d accept it.’ 

The thing was, his sister didn’t quite understand. 

Or maybe Kuroo didn’t. 

The issue wasn’t that Kuroo held no interest in dating Bokuto.

It’s that he was starting to think that he did.

***

Kuroo dreamt about Bokuto. It was some surreal nightmare that involved the primal fear of being chased but not being able to move even though all he wanted to do was escape. Bokuto wasn’t the monster. But he was standing there laughing at Kuroo the whole time while he tried desperately to scramble to safety. 

When Kuroo woke up and the dream faded into nothing, he figured he deserved all the divine punishment he was receiving. 

🐈‍⬛: Do I like Bokuto, Kenma?

Kuroo stared at his phone while he lay spread eagled over his bedsheets. Sure enough, after a few minutes ‘read 6:34am’ popped up beneath his message. If there was one thing he could always count on, it was Kenma being awake early on a Saturday after pulling an all-nighter playing video games. 

Feeling a pang of sentimentality, he thought back on the same late nights he used to spend with his friend during high school. Life had been so damn simple then. 

🐈: i don’t know 

No jokes or sharp quips. Kenma must have clocked on to Kuroo’s emotional turmoil- 

🐈: also, wow! a full grammatically correct sentence! good for you 

Scratch that. All was right in the world. Kuroo let out a small huff of amused air. He texted back furiously. 

🐈‍⬛: yes revolutionary pls answer me 

🐈: i can’t 

🐈: i’m not you 

🐈: you do like him, to a degree. you wouldn’t be mates otherwise, right? 

🐈‍⬛: he’s hot tho

🐈: is that all you need to be into someone? 

🐈: he’s objectively quite attractive, if you’re into the frosted tip adhd owl thing 

🐈‍⬛: it isnt ALL i need 

🐈‍⬛: but it helps 

🐈: cute. 

🐈: dont fuck around with him, kuroo 

🐈: you need to be sure if you’re going to start something 

🐈‍⬛: …

🐈: im telling you this because i love you. you would hate yourself if you hurt him

🐈‍⬛: ive already done that

🐈: then please for the love of god dont fuck things up further. if you do you’ll probably spiral and drop out of university and move home with your tail between your legs and your mum will ask me why her precious sons life is ruined and i’ll have to tell her it’s because he was using his dick to think instead of his head 

Kuroo felt deep offense at the insinuation: he was using his heart right now, not his dick. 

🐈‍⬛: you wouldn’t have to tell her that 

🐈: please do not ask me to lie to your mother. that’s disrespectful

There was another long pause.  

🐈: kuroo. you know you are my best friend, right? i can tell you’re beating yourself up over this and i also can tell you don’t like the way you've been acting lately. but i’m going to tell you something, and this is kinda sad that your friend still in high school is the one telling you this (you’re a grown ass man) - but you’re supposed to be a fuckwit in uni. you’re supposed to go out there and make mistakes and all that other stuff. i won’t, because im better than that. but you? it makes total sense. so please don’t sit there lamenting that you’re a terrible guy over this, because you’re not. you’re great. you’re my best mate. i wouldn’t ever change you. and i am willing to bet bokuto wouldn’t change you either.

Kuroo blinked furiously. He felt weird replying except for an obligatory thumbs up emoji. 

Inside, his tummy felt tight. 

🐈: think about it, ok?

They dissolved into a pointless conversation about the game Kenma was playing after that, until the texts stopped coming and Kuroo knew Kenma had fallen asleep. It was okay, while they’d chatted he’d understood something. And that was if he was going to start something with Bokuto, he would need to be 100% sure it’s what he wanted. 

*****

Kuroo wanted it. 

*****

He knew he wanted it because Kenma had basically said as much. 

Also, because of the crazy phenomenon of ‘self-reflection’. 

And also because when he went home that night after classes he beat himself off and thought about Bokuto, and he’d never come harder in his life. 

After, as he lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling with come drying disgustingly sticky on his stomach and hands, Kuroo considered his options seriously. 

🐈‍⬛: can we talk? 

Nothing. Kuroo thought back on all the times he had texted Bokuto and he had gotten a reply instantly. He missed that feeling of easy friendship. Now, his heart thudded in his chest uncomfortably. He stared at the message and lamented the lack of reply. 

🐈‍⬛: please? i miss you

There was no reply. 

*****

Kuroo was on the cusp of psychological ruin when Yaku’s name appeared at the top of his phone screen, accompanied by the swelling vocals of the Lion King soundtrack. 

They used to joke in high school that Yaku was small enough to raise atop their heads like the little furry body of baby Simba. Kuroo was fairly certain he had lost many a brain cell from the repercussions of those particular jokes. 

Perhaps Yaku was to blame for all of his current predicaments, with all the times he had whacked Kuroo on the back of the head.

Kuroo regarded the caller ID serenely, knowing what was coming, and also knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop whatever out of control train was currently heading straight for him. 

Kuroo placed the pack of cigarettes he’d been flipping between his hands irritably down on bed and steeled himself before pressing the little green phone. 

“Yo, Yaks, what’s up?” Kuroo greeted with the carefully crafted ease of a professional bro. 

And Yaku, very predictably, took absolutely no prisoners: “Cut the crap, idiot. Kenma told me everything.” 

Kuroo let himself wither. He replied gingerly: “oh…” 

“Fuck me, that’s right, ‘oh’. You are such an idiot.” 

“I-.”

“Not even a full year out of high school, and I’m being pestered by my ex-underclassmen about my ex-classmate who has got himself into trouble that he could have easily avoided if he had not been such a blind fuckwit.”  

Kuroo fell back against his bed sheets and let Yaku’s ire wash over him. 

Somehow, the familiar tone and scolding intonation was soothing to his ears. Making him feel like all was well and normal again, that he was back in high school making messes and being told off for them. That nothing he did had any real consequences, except for the annoyance he managed to cause with a rogue statement or off-kilter joke. 

It wasn’t true now, though. Now his actions had consequences, very real consequences. Consequences he was not enjoying in the slightest.  

Yaku paused in his rant to take a breath, he’d gotten to the part where he was scolding Kuroo for thinking with his dick and not his head, when Kuroo interjected softly: “thank you for calling, buddy.” 

Yaku fell silent. A sigh. And then he said:  “It’s okay, Kuroo. I kinda had to, when Kenma told me. Although I can’t say I didn’t see this coming.” 

The thing about Yaku was, despite his short fuse, he always knew when to settle down and be serious. In high school he had always kept Kuroo’s feet firmly on the floor and his head twisted on tight. It was comforting to know that that had not changed.  

“How come everyone else knew except for me?” He’d meant it as a joke, but it had fallen out flat and serious. Because Kuroo couldn’t fathom how blinkered he’d been, and for so long. “And why didn’t anyone tell me?” 

“How do you tell someone something like that?” Yaku replied, “You were both so happy being mates in high school, Kuroo. Even if we magically could go back in time to change things, we shouldn't, because then you wouldn’t be who you are now. Besides, these kinds of things need to evolve naturally and at their own pace. You both needed to figure things out alone.” 

“But look what happened using that stellar method,” Kuroo stated. “Bo isn’t talking to me and-,” for a beat he contemplated not saying anything else. Considered taking the easy way again to protect the tender flesh of his own heart. 

But he couldn’t do that, not now. And he had already started this process of self-reflection and discovery, and he was not a wuss and he would not be beaten by his own fears. 

Fuck it. 

“I’m hurting. All over, in my mind and heart and body and blood. And if all that’s not working, how on earth is my brain supposed to keep up and heal?”

Yaku let Kuroo fester and stew. He was good at letting silence speak. Kuroo closed his eyes and let the hurt wash over him, the fear that he’d done irreparable damage to one of the best relationships in his life. 

That this was the beginning of the end for him and Bokuto, before they ever got a chance to actually try. 

Kuroo finally breathed out a deep, melancholic sigh. With that sigh, he let the words slip out: “I just want him to forgive me, Yaks.” 

Yaku hummed. 

“I feel bad for hurting him, for not realising that he wanted more from me. For being stupid and not realising I wanted more from him.” 

Quiet. 

Kuroo steeled himself against it, imagining himself crouched and waiting to intercept a well-timed spike. Counting down the milliseconds needed to launch himself at the offensive, to block that attack. He imagined how good it felt when that hard work paid off, the adrenaline rush of his hands meeting the ball and the heady sting as that same ball ricocheted back into the opposing team's court. 

Executing the perfect kill. 

Kuroo opened his eyes and settled his own rabbiting fear by imagining Bokuto leaping into the air and celebrating that kill with him, alongside him. By imagining the pure rush of warmth and affection he always felt when he saw Bokuto doing, well, anything. 

“Yaku, I have to go now and apologise to him.” 

Kuroo could sense the smile Yaku gave through his phone. And just like in high school when Yaku used to give him thumbs up across the court, Kuroo felt a wash of distinct pride.

So this was personal growth. 

“Alright, Kuroo. You do that. I believe in you, Kenma too. All of us. No matter the outcome, we have your back. And we always will.” 

Kuroo wiped a few tears from the corner of his eyes. 

“Are you crying?” 

“No!” 

*****

Kuroo thought idly about the message he had texted Bokuto a few hours ago, asking him if it was alright for them to meet. He felt at peace with the uncertainty, like despite his inability to control the outcome he knew he would be okay. 

He’d taken the morning to himself after speaking with Yaku. Giving himself grace to watch a volleyball match in peace and catch up on a few easy quizzes for class. 

He was just preparing himself to take a shower before his afternoon lecture when someone knocked on his door. 

It was funny, how quickly his sense of inner peace fled into the recesses of his brain when he opened the door. Evaporating and leaving him to feel like a deer in headlights, seconds away from being struck by a 110km/h pickup truck. 

Bokuto stood in his doorway, looking sheepish. “Hi, bro.”

Kuroo swallowed thickly, wondering if he should be standing where he was, or leaning against the wall to look cooler, or if he should be throwing himself onto the floor and Bokuto’s feet and begging for mercy.

He settled for a simple: “Hey.” 

Bokuto raised his hand into an awkward wave: “Can I come in?” 

He had no product in his hair, it lay soft and downy across his forehead. Kuroo had missed him, even just the sight of him was enough to prove what Kuroo had decided was the right thing to do. 

Kuroo swallowed and stepped to the side, hating how Bokuto felt like he needed permission to be in Kuroo’s space. Hating that he was the one that had diminished their easy friendship. 

Bokuto floated in and stood on the small square of linoleum that made up Kuroo’s kitchen floor. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. All the calm he had managed to muster throughout his slow morning had very quickly turned into a white noise static. He busied himself by opening his fridge and mechanically getting them both something to drink. 

Himself, tap water, Bokuto, orange juice. Like always. 

Bokuto broke the silence first, “I have to admit I got into a bit of a slump.” 

Kuroo turned and handed Bokuto his orange juice. He accepted it easily, and appeared peacefully accepting of the conversation they were having. His gaze soft and doe-like in the shitty lighting, the train imminent, its brakes well and truly broken. The only thing that belied his nerves was the slight tightness of Bokuto’s shoulders. 

Kuroo leant on the countertop, “Oh, yeah?” He could clearly imagine what that slump looked like: Bokuto wide eyed and gormless, following Akaashi around and being an all-round depressed lump. 

“Yeah. Which is why I ignored you. I didn’t want to.” 

Kuroo’s heartbeat rabbited, thudding in his chest. For a moment he felt too overwhelmed to think, his mind going white and his ears ringing like a stun grenade had exploded right next to him. But then he shook himself, focusing on the curve of Bokuto’s hunched shoulders. Fuck it. This was Bokuto. Kuroo’s best friend, his buddy. If he couldn’t say what he wanted to say to him than Kuroo was a lot more fucked up than he realised. 

“Bo…” he started uncertainly: “it’s been brought to my attention that you might be into me.” 

Bokuto became a beetroot, flushing pink from the roots of his hair to the visible section of his pronounced clavicles and neck. It was a good look on him. 

It also proved Kuroo’s statement. 

Kuroo nodded sagely, hiding the rush of warmth he was also feeling behind a carefully curated nonchalance: “I thought so.” 

“You didn’t know for sure!” Kuroo raised his eyebrows until Bokuto let out a wounded huff. He stared at the floor again and crossed his arms. “Okay, I mean. Yeah. But I don’t want this to change anything.” 

“What if I want it to change things?” 

Bokuto froze. Kuroo hated how he looked like a deer in headlights, a mirror of how Kuroo had been feeling not five minutes earlier. He hated that he was the one making Bokuto look that way, petrified and scared. 

Bokuto shuffled his feet and glanced to the side. He said in a small voice: “You’re just saying that.” 

“I would never say anything I don’t mean.”

“You don’t know-.”

It was now or never. Kuroo was at the peak of his jump, hands up, block ready, about to execute his kill. 

Kuroo stepped into Bokuto’s space: “I know I think about you all the time,” Kuroo said. “I know I enjoy spending time with you at the gym and at the club and when we’re playing volleyball. I love hearing your stories, and making you laugh. Being your friend is the best thing that has ever happened to me- don’t you dare tell Kenma that- but yeah, maybe I never thought about fucking you properly until now, or kissing you like you deserve. But I definitely love you, Bokuto. I really do.”

“Oh…”

Kuroo let Bokuto process his monologue. It would be a lot for anyone to take in at the best of times. And Kuroo wanted Bokuto to believe him, no, he needed Bokuto to believe him.

And Kuroo would never know for sure what Bokuto was thinking in that moment to reach the conclusion he did. But Kuroo would always remember the flush of acceptance, the lowering of those tight shoulders. The way his golden eyes gentled to a look of pure adoration. 

He would always remember Bokuto taking a step closer to him under the shitty white lights of his shitty university kitchen.  

Bokuto ran a hand through his hair and tilted his head, eyelids lowered as he took Kuroo in. Wearing day old sweats and a plain black tee, Kuroo knew he probably looked an absolute mess. 

Despite the nerves pinging through his body, Kuroo managed an automatic grin as he joked: “Are you trying to seduce me?” 

Bokuto looked blankly at him, eyes flattened in disbelief for three whole seconds before he replied: “of course I am.” 

He said it like he would have said the sky is blue, or water it wet. He said it like it was a given. 

Kuroo let out a small, disbelieving laugh, before leaning in and kissing Bokuto with a grin. It was a quick kiss, a chaste press of lips together that somehow felt better than any kiss that had come before it. 

Inside his chest Kuroo felt something that had previously been drawn tight unfurl, a flower bud blooming. 

They kissed again, this time with tongue. Bokuto gasping as Kuroo’s hand snaked around his waist the press into his lower back. Kuroo was about to get thoroughly distracted, but he wanted, no, needed, to speak. Say what was in his head before things went further. 

It felt important, like he was opening a blank book and scrawling ‘Chapter One’ on the first page. 

The start of a brand new adventure. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable before,” Kuroo apologised after withdrawing from the kiss, holding Bokuto’s neck and pressing their foreheads together. “I want to try this with you. Will you let me try this with you, Bo?”

Bokuto’s face bloomed into a smile like a sunflower facing the dawn, the expression sending a sweet joy searing through Kuroo’s entire body. 

“Of course, Kuroo. I’ve only been waiting for you to catch up for years.”  

*****

Kuroo didn’t know when they’d started kissing properly, or when they’d migrated to his creaky bed. All he knew was that he had never kissed anybody who made him feel the electric shock tingles that Bokuto did. 

A war raged in his body, one that wanted to keep making out forever, and one that wanted to push for more. It had been a while since Kuroo had gotten any, and the warmth of Bokuto’s body coupled with the willing press of his lips was making the rest of Kuroo’s body ache with a yearning heat. 

Bokuto pulled back slightly, eyes a little unfocused, shiny and pleased. The way he reached up to touch his own lips, like he couldn’t believe what was actually happening, made Kuroo smile with a gentle fondness. 

And also make him want to see Bokuto’s face pulled into a myriad of other expressions, each dirtier than the last. 

Luckily, Kuroo had all the ingredients he needed to make that happen. 

“Do you-?” Kuroo began, just as Bokuto started: “can I-?”

Kuroo stopped short, enjoying the way Bokuto’s face was pink and his breath short when he spoke, like Kuroo had worn him out with just his tongue and turned Bokuto’s brain stupid. He liked to think of Bokuto being as affected by Kuroo as he was of Bokuto, it stroked his ego in all the right places. 

“You go,” Kuroo offered generously. 

Bokuto blinked, pursing his lips cutely for a beat before asking: “I want to sit on your lap. Can I?” 

The simple innocence was enough to stall Kuroo’s overactive imagination, making him double back to the beginning instead of racing headstrong to the finale. 

“Of course,” Kuroo agreed, suddenly wanting Bokuto’s weight on top of him, all over him. Then he felt a rush of uncertainty: “I mean, if you want to.”

“I asked, didn’t I?” 

“I don’t know bro, I want to make sure you’re comfortable with what’s happening here.”

“What, sitting on your lap? I am an adult, you know.” 

“Yeah, I know! I mean, maybe you're an adult. The jury is still out. But I also want this to be good for you and for us to go at your pace, not mine-.” 

“Don’t freak out on me, Kuroo.” 

“Freak out-?”

“You’re doing that thing.” 

“What thing?” 

“That thing where you try and baby me.”

“I don’t baby you, if anything I’m doing the opposite here.”

“You’re really stupid,” Bokuto interrupted softly, his fingers coming up to touch Kuroo’s cheekbone with a gentleness at odds with his larger than life personality. “Like, really stupid.” 

Bokuto was so close to his face that Kuroo had to go slightly cross-eyed to focus on his pretty golden eyes, suddenly feeling silly for the way his brain had taken off without him.

Bokuto was right, but Kuroo didn’t need to let Bokuto know he was right. Instead he replied simply, “Says you, stupid.”

He got a tongue in his mouth and an armful of Bokuto clambering onto his lap for his troubles. Kuroo held Bokuto’s ample ass to stop him from slipping off his thighs and onto the floor, squeezing harshly and swallowing the sounds of Bokuto gasping by sucking lewdly on his tongue. 

Kuroo lost himself for a minute, was just starting to lose his own head as his brain swam with a lusty need for more, when Bokuto forced him back with hands on his chest, “stop, god. How did you get so good at that?” 

Kuroo licked his lips and blinked innocently, wondering if this was a trick question. He knew from past experiences that answering questions like that was akin to stepping into a pot of boiling water.

Bokuto rolled his eyes at Kuroo’s hesitation, somehow manoeuvring his body so he was sitting comfortably on Kuroo’s lap. 

This was a feat in itself, considering Bokuto’s height and bulk. Kuroo found himself enamored with the heaviness, and wondered if he could have Bokuto in his lap forever and ever.  

Bokuto stared down at Kuroo with a serious expression: “You can tell me you kiss a lot of people, dude. I’m the one reaping the benefits now so I can’t be jealous.” 

Kuroo tilted his head to the side, and reached up to brush a lock of Bokuto’s silvery hair out of his eyes with a cheeky grin, “Do you like my experience, Bo?” 

“Well,” Bokuto’s eyes darted to the left than to the right, his pale cheeks pinking sweetly, “yeah. You’re good. Why wouldn’t I?”

Kuroo hummed, holding his friend's chin and slotting their mouths back together. Slower, this time, letting Bokuto keep up with the ebb and flow of his tongue and teeth. Slowly, Kuroo began to notice Bokuto begin to rub against him. Bokuto moaned, his first, and Kuroo wanted to catalogue the sound, wanting to hear it again and again. 

Squeezing Bokuto’s slim waist tighter, Kuroo nipped his lower lip and said huskily, “That sound. Fucking beautiful, Bo. Do you want more?” 

Something changed in Bokuto’s eyes at the words, at Kuroo’s tone. His pupils darkened and expanded until his beautiful golden eyes were almost swallowed by black. 

“‘More’, like what?” He ventured shakily. His hands fumbled with Kuroo’s shoulders like he wasn’t sure where to place them. 

“Get up, Bo. And I’ll show you.” Once they were both standing he grabbed Bokuto’s shoulders and directed him to sit back down. Enjoying the sight of Bokuto struck dumb on his bed, Kuroo said: “I’m going to suck you off.” 

“Dude!” Bokuto gasped. 

“Dude?” Kuroo shed himself off his black t-shirt and threw it to the side, exposing planes of lean tan skin. “Calling me dude before I get on my knees for you isn’t very sexy.” 

Bokuto groaned and slapped a palm over his eyes, muttering: “everything you say is sexy.” 

Kuroo laughed when he noticed Bokuto’s slightly parted fingers, and the hooded eyes staring him up and down appreciatively. 

“You’ve seen all of this before,” he pointed out as he grabbed his pillow from the head of the bed before settling on his knees between Bokuto’s thighs. 

“Not like this.” 

And something in the words made Kuroo pause. He’d just been about to reach for the zipper of Bokuto’s jeans, when he noticed the softness in his tone, the genuine wonder. 

Kinda like Bokuto was the luckiest guy in the world to have Kuroo like this. 

It made Kuroo squirm a little and huff out a self-deprecating breath, winking up at Bokuto and simpering: “I have been told I’m rather easy.” 

Bokuto frowned. 

“Bro, don’t say that,” he was being disturbingly serious. “You’re not a slut to me. You’re special.” 

“Special.” Kuroo repeated flatly. 

“Yeah, of course!” The earnest way Bokuto said it made Kuroo’s stomach heat unexpectedly. The sudden onslaught of feelings caused a demented part of his brain chemistry to short circuit, to think that yeah, maybe Bokuto was right. 

Bokuto’s hand carded through his messy hair, and it was like an electric shock coursed through him at the gentle touch, at the thumb that rubbed behind his ear like he was a tame housecat. Kuroo practically purred. 

Except for the fact it came out like a breathy little whimper. 

His cheeks heated and he couldn’t help the wide eyed stare he levelled at his best buddy, his Bokuto. Who was unlocking feelings in him he didn’t even know he had like some kind of miracle therapist. 

Strangled, he said, “Okay. I’m going to blow you now. Open up.” He pawed at Bokuto’s pants, fingers feeling leaden and useless. 

Bokuto’s hand left Kuroo’s hair to enthusiastically tear at his own clothes, undoing his zipper and shoving his pants down. Kuroo sat back on his heels and watched Bokuto struggle with his jeans. They’d gotten caught around his ankles, and the sight would have been hilarious if Kuroo wasn't itching to suck cock. 

“You don’t need to take them completely off, that’s enough.” 

“Aye aye, captain!” Bokuto grinned, his cheeks bright pink. He paused when he reached for his boxers, the  briefest moment that belied the nerves he was probably still feeling boiling beneath the surface. 

And Kuroo supposed that if this was a big deal for him, it must be a huge deal for Bokuto, who didn’t do the casual sex thing at all. 

So with an uncharacteristic softness, he said gently, “it’s cool, Bo. I’d like to do this for you. Make you feel good.” 

And after kissing each other and dry humping and having a deep conversation where they both spilled all sorts of embarrassing feelings: this seemed to be the line. The point of no return. Kuroo had seen Bokuto’s dick, and Bokuto had seen his, but this was deliberate. This was an admission that yes, they were into each other, that they wanted to fuck each other.

In an abstract sense Kuroo supposed he’s always wanted Bokuto like this to some degree. He just hadn’t known he was allowed to take it. 

Bokuto seemed overwhelmed for a beat, staring down owlishly and blinking like an idiot. Then something seemed to pass over his eyes, a moment of clarity where he looked at Kuroo and actually saw him. 

Bokuto smiled softly, and it was beautiful, and then his boxers were sliding down, and Kuroo was left tingling all over like he’d been stung lovingly by hundreds of bumblebees. 

Bokuto’s dick was beautiful.

Kuroo bit his lower lip and resisted the urge to take it all inside him at once. He didn’t want to overwhelm Bokuto, he wanted this to be good, to be the best.  

“Uhh, man, are you going to eat it?” 

A little irritated at being torn from his honey glazed daydream, Kuroo flicked Bokuto’s knee and replied: “No I’m not going to eat it.” 

He sent a sharp glare swiftly upwards, which, yeah, was probably overkill. But noted with curiosity the intake of breath that followed, the quick backtrack and soft: ‘sorry,’ that escaped Bokuto’s lips like he couldn’t quite help the response. 

Something to note for another time, perhaps. Kuroo rubbed circles into Bokuto’s thighs in quick apology, “sorry, baby, relax. It’s okay. I’ll go slow for you.”

A few minutes later, Bokuto was being exceedingly gentle with him. Kuroo had never been treated so gently in his life while giving head. Not even the girls he’d gone down on had worked so hard to be still, to not tug at his hair or push into his mouth. 

Bokuto, though, was completely still, letting Kuroo set the pace with only sweet, breathy moans and a litany of ‘oh, god, oh, god,’ spilling from his lips. 

Kuroo enjoyed the weight of Bokuto’s dick in his mouth, the salty tang on his tastebuds. Kuroo pulled off Bokuto’s dick with one teasing kitten lick over his slit, smiling at the high whimper that followed.

“Bo,” he said, tapping Bokuto’s thigh when he got no response. Bokuto had his eyes clenched shut, and he shook his head at Kuroo’s attempts to get his attention. “Hey, man. You all good?” 

Bokuto’s eyes snapped open, and almost entirely black pupils stared down at Kuroo: “What?” 

He sounded completely punch drunk, and looked it, too. 

Kuroo huffed out a smile, using his thumbs to rub circles into Bokuto’s muscled thighs: “are you okay?” He resisted the urge to drop down and suck a bruise onto Bokuto’s creamy skin. 

Heaving a sigh, Bokuto fell flat against the bed. Kuroo pulled back just in time to avoid a dick slap to the face, which made him smile wider. “Just… you’re good at kissing, good at teasing me, good at head; what can’t you do?” 

“I’m good at volleyball, too.”

“Duh.” Bokuto’s eyes opened a smidge, and stared down the planes of his own built body to meet Kuroo’s eyes, all the way down at the foot of the bed. “You’re perfect, Kuroo.”

Hiding his turmoil from Bokuto’s sweetness beneath a smile, he said, “thank you, BoBo. Can you sit back up for me, baby? I’m not finished.” 

Bokuto nodded and sat back up with a groan, “I’m not going to last too long though. If you hadn’t stopped I would have-.” 

“That’s okay,” Kuroo shuffled back in close and took Bokuto back into his hands, licking his tip sweetly and offering coyly through slanted eyelashes, “you know, you can hold my hair, shove me down, fuck my face even. I don’t mind.”

The dick in his hand twitched. “Jesus Christ.”

Kuroo directed Bokuto’s hands to his hair, feeling a bone deep satisfaction when Bokuto’s fingers tugged experimentally. 

“I’m not made of glass. I like it when you fuck me properly,” Kuroo soothed. 

“Oh goodness.” 

Kuroo’s laugh was decidedly not sexy. 

Bokuto didn’t end up fucking Kuroo’s mouth, but he did hold Kuroo’s hair and pull a little.

*****

“You want water?” Kuroo asked. He laughed when Bokuto’s eyes fluttered dramatically and his hands grabbed at Kuroo’s shoulders, trying to grapple him back towards the bed. “Stop! No cuddling. I’m not done with you yet, buddy. Water, or no?” 

“Yes… water.” Bokuto yawned. When he stretched his shirt rode upwards, exposing the planes of his pale abs and the nakedness of his lower body. 

Kuroo was surprised he was even standing after the way Bokuto had come earlier, all loud moans and canting, desperate hips as he spilled into Kuroo’s mouth. But he supposed he couldn’t be too surprised, out of everyone Kuroo had met, Bokuto definitely seemed the type to have a short refractory period. 

“Okay, wait here,” Kuroo said. As he walked the scant metres to his little linoleum kitchen he swallowed again just to enjoy the feeling of use in his throat. He felt giddy and weird and he was very interested in fucking right now. But… 

Kuroo turned on the tap and as he watched his cup fill he threw over his shoulder: “are you alright for more today? You have practice early tomorrow, right?” 

“Fuck practice…” Bokuto said. “I’ll skip for once.” Suddenly, warm arms wrapped around Kuroo’s middle, and Bokuto’s chin landed heavily on Kuroo’s shoulder. As clingy after sex as he was in regular life, Bokuto had followed Kuroo like a child with his mother. “‘N I wanna return the favour. You’re so hot.”

Bokuto had always been like a bulldozer with his compliments. Throwing them around earnestly with no concern about how they’d land, who they’d flatten. 

His large hands dipped to Kuroo’s waistband, playing with the elastic. It almost distracted Kuroo enough to make him forget about what had just been said, except not quite. 

“You can’t skip practice.”

“Why not, I wanna play with you instead.”

“You’ve never skipped.” 

“I did once.”

“When you were twelve with chicken pox, and you told me you cried about it for a week.” 

“I actually also missed one because I failed a maths test. I got in so much trouble from my dad. I also cried about that for a week, too.” 

Kuroo bit his lower lip, half-heartedly passing the full glass behind him for Bokuto to take. On one hand, the idea that he was more important than volleyball to Bokuto, at least for that one moment, made him kinda happy. But on the other… 

Kuroo got a sudden premonition of being yelled at by a furious Akaashi, the words: ‘see, I told you you’d ruin him! Because of you he’s not even going to volleyball practice anymore!! How is he going to become a world-class professional player now, huh???’ Ringing through his ears. 

Akaashi had never yelled as long as Kuroo had known him, but the image still sent a cold chill down his spine.

Kuroo turned, still bracketed by one of Bokuto’s arms against the sink while the other lifted the glass to his lips. He watched with interest as Bokuto’s lips worked on the glass, itching to lean in and press hot kisses to his neck. 

But he was an adult, and his own cock had flagged during their break, which helped to harden his resolve. 

Instead of caving and kissing Bokuto like he wanted to; pushing him onto the bed and teasing moans from his lips with his fingers and dick without caring about the consequences, Kuroo crossed his arms and shook his head. 

“No skipping. I won’t be the cause of you becoming a bum living in your parents basement.” 

Bokuto blinked and put the glass down behind them, wide-eyed and bemused: “well, that just wouldn’t happen. Don’t be silly.” 

Kuroo ignored him, pushing past to make his way back to his bedside drawer, rummaging around inside before picking out lube and a condom. “You can fuck me, instead. It doesn’t matter if I’m aching all over tomorrow, right?” 

Kuroo turned around and almost dropped the condoms on the floor in shock. 

Bokuto was staring at him, still naked from the waist down, which should have been funny as shit except for the fact that his eyebrows were angled severely, and his golden eyes were narrowed. His hands were also clenched at his sides tightly. 

He looked… displeased. 

Kuroo had seen Bokuto displeased plenty of times: usually when he felt mad at the trajectory of a volleyball game, or when Akaashi scolded him for being a nuisance. 

But this was different. Kuroo had the sense he’d stepped on a rather large landmine. 

“Uh… Bo?” 

Lips pursuing, Bokuto said: “there you go again. Thinking you’re not as important.” 

“What?”

“You do this a lot now. You talk bad about yourself.”

“I don’t… quite understand.” Just when Kuroo thought he had a grip on the situation, Bokuto had to pull the rug out from under him. 

“”I’ve been told I’m easy’, ‘it doesn’t matter if I’m sore’. Just two examples in twenty  minutes. But you’ve been saying stuff like that for months now.”

Kuroo didn’t think it was quite as deep as that. He looked to the side with a disgruntled shrug, throwing the lube on the bed and saying: “Don’t be weird, bro.” Despite the strange pivot, he was still very much interested in getting off today. The thought of Bokuto inside him sent pleasant thrills up his spine. “Come on, it’s not a big deal. I want you to fuck me.” 

“Don’t bro me right now!” Bokuto wagged his finger in Kuroo’s face. He turned Kuroo around with a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

Bokuto softened immediately when he saw Kuroo’s genuine confusion, because he was confused. Wanting dick and also having his feelings thrown in his face was a terrible thing. 

“Look, I know you’ve been having a hard time recently. You didn’t need to tell me, I just know. But you’re Kuroo. Literally the coolest guy alive!”

Still not getting it, Kuroo asked: “what does me talking shit about myself have to do with you getting to fuck me, though?”

“It’s just the way you said it. I can’t explain it properly. But it matters.” Bokuto’s eyes were huge and shiny, looking almost like he wanted to cry with frustration because he couldn’t get the right words out. 

“Why?”

“Because!” Bokuto began a little bit louder, then stopped when he saw Kuroo flinch. 

He started again, deliberately slow: “because, Kuroo, I have always dreamed of it the other way around. And you’re not meat to me, you’re special. I want this to be special. And I don’t want you walking around thinking it doesn’t matter to me if you’re sore after, or unhappy. I don’t want you thinking you’re lesser. Because you’re not. If anything, you’re more.” Bokuto ended his speech by biting his lower lip, which had begun to wobble slightly. 

Kuroo’s heart softened, and he found his stomach fluttering with a thousand butterflies. Like a smartass, he couldn’t help but tease, “now look who's talking down.” 

But he knew his cheeks were red, and his heart wasn’t really in it anymore anyway. 

He opened his arms to let Bokuto in closer, who enveloped him in a crushing hug that felt squishy and warm and all encompassing. 

“C’mere,” Bokuto held Kuroo’s cheeks and kissed him. And this one was sweeter than their last kiss, more like a love kiss. Kuroo was tempted to melt into it and let Bokuto take the lead. Bokuto smiled, mumbling: “I have literally dreamed about this for years,” between kisses. 

Kuroo had to try not to think about how many times Bokuto may have touched himself to the thought of him. Maybe one day he’d tease it out of the other for fun, but he didn’t have the patience for those kinds of games right now. 

Kuroo broke the kiss and rested his forehead on Bokuto’s, feeling like a sappy idiot. But maybe a sappy idiot was what this situation needed, just for now. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his friend by being stupid and stubborn. 

“Okay, Bo. You want me to fuck you? Let’s do it your way.” 

Bokuto pulled away, smiling widely and bouncing in the balls of his feet, “you sure? I promise I’ll be good for practice tomorrow!” 

Kuroo began taking off his sweats. The conversation has gone places he hadn't expected, but he felt good about it. He felt seen and exposed, flayed and quartered, but he also felt good.  

“I do have one question, before we start. Also take your shirt off, you look like a dumbass.” 

“Alright!” Bokuto played with the hem of his t-shirt. “What’s the question?”

“Have you been with a guy before, Bo? Like this?”

It felt like something Kuroo should know. He’d seen Bokuto speak to girls before, but he’d never seemed interested in them. Besides, he’d always been so laser focused on volleyball that flirting didn’t seem like a priority. 

Except for the times he told Kuroo he looked sick during a particularly difficult block, or just flat out said he was cool. Or when he touched Kuroo’s biceps at the gym and wolf whistled, or said things like, ‘you’re literally the handsomest guy alive!’

Somewhat belatedly, Kuroo was realising that this made a lot of sense.

Bokuto shrugged, “once, a boy, sort of... it wasn’t- I didn’t- it wasn’t really what I wanted though. I really only wanted you.” 

Kuroo felt his chest flutter, again. 

He wasn’t used to being so charmed. Usually he was the one saying all the right things to make his partner feel good. 

“Alright, Bo. First time taking it? I’ll take it slow and if you want me to stop you tell me right away.”

Bokuto nodded, cheeks pink. He took off his shirt and Kuroo sighed at the pretty planes of his well built chest, his torso and well muscled thighs. 

Kuroo felt a bone deep excitement, knowing that Bokuto trusted him, and wanted him back. 

Knowing that if he didn’t get started now he’d get completely sidetracked, Kuroo shook himself and said: “Okay, Bo. Can you get on the bed for me? Ass up will be easier for you. Let me take care of you.” 

Bokuto nodded, face alight with excitement: “I thought you’d never ask!” 

He shimmied to an imaginary beat towards the bed, and the unexpected display made Kuroo laugh. He’d lost sight of the fact that sex was supposed to be fun and not a way to escape his problems. A fond warmth flushed Kuroo’s body head to toe as Bokuto’s excitement passed through his body like a shock. 

He wanted this. He wanted this with Bokuto so fucking much. 

Kuroo hadn’t thought much about fucking Bokuto before this week, something he was very sorely lamenting. But he had spent years flirting with Bokuto for fun. And those years of research had taught him many very important and interesting things. 

Such as:  

1) Bokuto blushed like a schoolgirl at the smallest amount of attention (which he begged for constantly)  

2) he was extremely sensitive to touch and loved being doted on, and 

3) he was almost undeniably submissive, with a tiny side serving of brat.

It turned out this was all true. 

Kuroo had barely brushed the tip of his lubed index finger over Bokuto’s hole when he wiggled his hips enticingly and whined, “quicker!”

“Quicker!” Kuroo exclaimed with a disbelieving laugh. From his vantage point, he could just make out the frustrated crease in Bokuto’s forehead. “We just started, BoBo. Slow the hell down.” 

Bokuto nuzzled his face into his forearm and mumbled: “Okay…” he swayed his ass from side to side. He was probably creasing with impatience, his whole body burning hotly with want and need. 

“You’ve always had a lovely ass,” Kuroo praised, rubbing said ass with his unlubed hand and hoping the sweet nothing would tide Bokuto over. “But keep it still for me, will you? I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Bokuto let out a groan, “but-!”

Kuroo leant down and kissed Bokuto’s exposed shoulder, saying huskily: “I’m the one who hasn’t come yet. Be patient for once.”

The groan Bokuto let out was childishly frustrated, but his ass did stop swaying. 

Kuroo took a few moments to appreciate the view; Bokuto’s ass, his muscled thighs and the strong lines of his torso and shoulder blades. He’d always had more mass to Kuroo’s wiry strength, and that hadn’t changed, in fact, he’d only grown bigger. Ever since enrolling at University he’d focused on his diet and exercise, and it showed in the way his body was filling out. 

This time when Kuroo slipped the tip of his index finger in, Bokuto pressed his face into his forearm and let out a shaky breath instead of begging. 

Kuroo liked fucking, he liked handies and blowies and quickies in bathrooms, but he particularly enjoyed fingering someone. He still remembered the first time a girl had talked him through it back in high school. Seeing her fall apart when he finally got the hang of it turned him on like crazy. And the thrill had never faded. It was like playing an instrument; curling his fingers just right to elicit the most gorgeous of sounds. 

Bokuto was not different. Soon, even with his mouth pressed into his skin, Kuroo began to hear a series of pretty moans fall from Bokuto’s lips. 

He put his clean hand on the dip of Bokuto’s lower back to hold him steady, “how does it feel, Bo?”

Turning his head to the side, Bokuto whimpered, “It feels good.”

Kuroo knew it would. He rubbed soft circles into the small of Bokuto’s back to ground him. “You ready for a second, love?” 

“Yeah.”

With a few prying twists, Kuroo found what he was looking for. Bokuto’s back arched when Kuroo’s fingertips brushed over his prostate softly, teasing enough to draw a shaking whine from Bokuto’s throat. “Oh! That feels so good.”

Kuroo hummed, focusing on scissoring his fingers as deftly as possible to cause the most whines to fall from Bokuto’s lips. It was addictive, hearing him like that. Kuroo never wanted to stop. 

Bokuto had other ideas, though. After a minute of fingering, he started to wiggle again, this time fucking his hips back on to Kuroo’s fingers. 

“More,” he demanded, voice still slightly muffled from where his face was squashed into the sheets. “Please, stop teasing me.” 

“I’m not teasing you,” Kuroo lied, as he took sick pleasure in teasing Bokuto’s prostate some more while his friend whimpered beneath him, “I’m preparing you so you don’t hurt too much tomorrow. Which you will, by the way. When Coach asks why you’re limping, feel free to let him know you got railed real fucking good, I give you my express permission.” 

Bokuto fucked himself on Kuroo’s fingers in earnest, like the idea of people knowing was a turn on. Kuroo filed: ‘exhibitionist’, in his mental record of Bokuto’s potential kinks. 

The ideas swirling in his head from all the information he was learning were almost enough to distract him. 

Almost. 

Instead, he gently inserted a third finger in alongside the others and watched Bokuto’s arms give way at the intrusion. Falling forward, he moaned unabashedly, with Kuroo’s name falling from his lips. 

“Kuroo, please. Please.” 

“Please what?” 

Kuroo always enjoyed it when people begged him. Sexually or otherwise. There was something to be said about the power trip of looking down at someone who desperately needed something from him, and having it be his choice whether they got it. 

Bokuto keened, “I’m ready now. Need you, please, I’ve waited so long.” 

One day, he’d tease Bokuto until he cried. 

But he was hard and horny and hadn’t come yet, and he was sincerely trying to be nice. So for how, he withdrew his fingers and grabbed the condom and lube. Tearing the packet with his teeth, Kuroo rolled the condom onto his cock and squirted some lube into his palm, stroking himself a few times. 

When he turned back, he noticed the slant of Bokuto’s darkened gold eyes watching him earnestly. 

Startled, Kuroo asked self-consciously, “what?” 

Bokuto grinned all soft and dopey. With his flushed face and sweaty hair, he looked absolutely debauched. “You looked so hot just now. Effortlessly sexy.”

From anyone else it could have come across as a joke. 

From Bokuto it was the unguarded truth. 

Kuroo found himself looking away to escape the tightness in his chest: “I think you’ll find that’s you.” 

“But it’s true-,” Bokuto trailed off when Kuroo pressed his hips closer, teasing his cockhead over Bokuto’s hole but not quite pushing in. Bokuto whimpered, thoroughly distracted: “oh, Kuroo-!” 

Something about the tongue-tied Bokuto was insanely hot. Kuroo ran his hands over Bokuto’s ass and spread his cheeks, “You did this to me,” Kuroo informed matter-of-factly. “Making me all hard and needy. Bokuto, it’s all because of you.”  

He teased his cock against the cleft of Bokuto’s ass again, catching the rim and making Bokuto push his hips back to chase the sensation. Bokuto tried again, this time able to form words more successfully: “stop teasing me, Kuroo. Please. Please fuck me.” 

Kuroo was ready for that, too. Still, he needed to check a few more things before take off, he needed this to be perfect: “ok, Bo, I’ll fuck you. I’m going to go slow, okay. Are you happy in this position?” 

“I-,” Bokuto almost looked like he was going to nod, but stopped himself as realisation dawned on his face. He twisted suddenly, almost causing Kuroo to fall backward: “Wait! No. I’d like to see you. Face to face.” 

Kuroo steadied himself by holding Bokuto’s hips, laughing as he scolded: “Okay, Bo, missionary. That’s fine, no need to knock me over.” 

Kuroo helped Bokuto turn over. He was left staring down at his friend’s trusting face, watching the rise and fall of his chest and wondering how on earth his life had come to this. With them both squished onto Kuroo’s shitty single bed, Bokuto’s legs hooked loosely around his waist. Kuroo’s arms on either side of Bokuto’s head made it feel like Kuroo was protecting Bokuto somehow, keeping him safe from the outside world. Which was stupid, because the last thing Bokuto needed was protection. 

Kuroo grinned, and it must have come off as vaguely predatory because Bokuto’s eyes widened and canted to the side with a self conscious furrow of his eyebrows. 

He muttered petulantly: “what are you waiting for? You said you’d fuck me.” 

“I’m looking at you,” Kuroo stated. “You’re very, very handsome.” 

“Stop!” Bokuto couldn’t help the little smile that started to bloom. He ran his hands down Kuroo’s chest and abs with wonder before resting them at the base of his spine. 

“Alright, first, put a pillow under your hips.” Kuroo grabbed one from beside Bokuto’s head and helped him manoeuvre until his hips were slightly raised for better access.

“Ready now?” Bokuto groaned, almost vibrating with need. “Damn, you’re so careful. Just do it!” 

Kuroo winked, “I promise you’ll thank me in the morning, Bo.” 

He used the hand not holding one of Bokuto’s thighs open to guide his dick into Bokuto’s hole. Kuroo’s smarmy attitude quickly dropped into a bitten off moan at the initial breach. The burning heat enough to rob him of his words. 

Bokuto matched him with a breathy, “oh,” as he held onto Kuroo’s waist, nails digging into his skin. 

Slow, slow, Kuroo thought, biting his lower lip and concentrating solely on not pushing in too quickly. Bokuto’s eyes were fluttering and his lips parted invitingly, and Kuroo couldn’t help but lean in for an open mouthed kiss as he stopped moving his hips. 

The heat was all encompassing around Kuroo’s cock, be couldn’t help the strain in his voice as he asked: “ all okay?”

He found he needed Bokuto to answer, needed everything to be perfect for him, to be something he’d always remember as being good and right. 

Bokuto sighed deeply, eyes fluttering shut. He seemed to fight with his own body for a few seconds, like he was willing himself to relax. Kuroo carefully watched the tension drain from Bokuto’s face, waiting patiently for those gold eyes to appear under sinfully hooded lids. 

And then they did appear, and Bokuto gave permission with a soft: “yes, Kuroo. It feels better now. Thank you.”

Kuroo melted under the gentle gaze, leaning down to plant a chaste kiss on pliant lips. He teased: “You’re being very polite now.” 

“Because I want something real bad, bro.”

Kuroo smiled again at the cuteness of Bokuto’s honest naivety, pressing their foreheads together. He pressed a bitten off moan into Bokuto’s shoulder as he pressed his cock in the rest of the way, letting his hips undulate gently, “okay, I’ll fuck you properly now, baby. Ready?” 

When Kuroo pulled back slightly, Bokuto’s eyes glazed over, red mouth parted. He looked like he was seeing stars. He nodded, then swallowed, whining: “yes. Perfect. Harder, please.” 

Kuroo rebalanced himself between Bokuto’s legs, pressing in until Bokuto was bent almost in half, feeling heat like liquid mercury sear through him with anticipation. Then he started to fuck in earnest. Rolling his hips in as steady a rhythm as he could manage, Kuroo focused on finding Bokuto’s prostate. Bokuto wrapped his legs around Kuroo’s waist, and after a few well-placed thrusts that hit the mark, his pleas turned into loud moans. 

Kuroo had known Bokuto  would be loud, sure, but he hadn’t quite understood how loud. 

Until now, anyway. It turns out blowjob Bokuto was nothing on getting fucked Bokuto. 

“Kuroo,” Bokuto moaned, “oh, oh, fuck me, yes! Right there, please, please, please!”  

“Good,” Kuroo praised hoarsely, “taking me so well, Bo.”

The more Kuroo’s name was said, the harder it was to keep himself from bending Bokuto over further and fucking like he really wanted to; hard. But the pace they had right now, this was fine, this was perfect. Kuroo leaned down and kissed Bokuto’s sounds away, using his tongue to shut him up for a few seconds before Bokuto threw his head back and wailed. 

Kuroo found a laugh bubbling at the base of his throat. Pressing his nose into Bokuto’s shoulder, he smiled through his words: “Gotta get you a gag, man.”

“Oh,” Bokuto gasped. His body responded well to the comment, dick twitching between them and body arching to meet the snap of Kuroo’s hips. 

“You’d like that?”

Bokuto nodded, eyes squeezed shut.

“Dirty,” Kuroo chided, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was too busy staring down at Bokuto, at the pink blooming on his chest, the way his abs clenched. Too busy enjoying the heat around his cock, Bokuto’s hands clinging desperately to his back and shoulders. 

There was a few moments more of that, a litany of praises falling as Kuroo’s body worked on autopilot, hips rolling into Bokuto’s body as precisely as he could manage. He wanted to be rough and chase his orgasm, but more than that he wanted this to be perfect for Bo. 

And Bokuto, well, he was reacting exactly like Kuroo had expected. 

In missionary, he could clearly see Bokuto’s flushed cheeks and chest, could feel his hands grabbing at Kuroo’s shoulders and thick legs wrapped right around Kuroo’s slim waist, moaning loudly with each targeted thrust. When Kuroo had first praised him, Bokuto’s eyes had fluttered shut, and he’d spread his legs wider to allow Kuroo in deeper. 

He was- “beautiful, Bo. Fucking perfect. Shit, fuck, shit, shit.”

It took a few more thrusts before he noticed something weird. Bokuto had slapped a hand over his eyes and was shaking. Not shaking like he was about to come shaking, he was shaking like he was- Kuroo stopped his movements, half buried still but chasing his orgasm momentarily forgotten by complete shock.  

“Are you laughing at me?” Kuroo was askance for a millisecond, before he found himself starting to laugh too. Bokuto’s well muscled arm covered his eyes, and his mouth was pulled into a wide smile. His pleasure was infectious. 

“Well, I don’t know. Your vocabulary really suffers when you’re fucking something, is all.”

“‘Fucking something’? I’m fucking you! Have some respect!” To punctuate his point, Kuroo settled back on his haunches and dragged Bokuto’s body in closer by hooking his hands under his thighs, until his dick was fully sheathed again and pressed relentlessly against Bokuto’s prostate. 

Bokuto reacted with a pleased hiss and a dopey grin, “yes. Yep. That’s good.” He bit his lower lip and reached up to hold Kuroo’s neck. His eyes were soft when he said: “I do like it when you call me nice things, though.”

“Yeah?” Kuroo smirked and leaned in for a kiss, nipping Bokuto’s lower lip, “you like being called a pretty boy, Bo?” 

Splayed out like this with his pale skin, golden eyes, and sex mussed silver hair on display, Kuroo fully believed that his best mate was the most beautiful person. How had he not seen it at all before? It pissed him off that it had taken an existential crisis to notice. 

To make up for it, he kissed Bokuto harder, deeper, using more tongue and really focused on thrusting his hips just right to make his friend keen higher, louder, wilder. 

“It’s good, right?” Kuroo asked, probably sounding just a little desperate, pressing kisses and biting bruises into the sweaty skin on Bokuto’s neck. “‘Feels good, for you?”

“Yes,” Bokuto gasped. “Yes! You’re the best. Kuroo-.” He slapped Kuroo's shoulder, “I’m gonna, oh!”

Bokuto tensed, words becoming a drawn out moan as he came. Using his arms and legs as hooks, Bokuto dragged Kuroo in until they were pressed entirely together, whimpering and twitching as he orgasmed between them. 

Kuroo used all his willpower to stay still. He was still hard, and his body burned hot, but he didn’t want to overwhelm Bokuto. Not the first time, anyway. So he remained buried in Bokuto’s body, breathing deeply into his neck and idly kissing over the expanse of smooth pale skin there. 

“Can I move again?” He asked after a beat, trying his best to hide the tightness of his voice, his orgasm close like a drawn bowstring.  

Bokuto’s grip loosened minutely, his voice soft when he said; “Don’t need to ask.” 

Somehow, Bokuto sounded sleepy already. The idea made Kuroo bark out a laugh. But he didn’t need to be told twice. 

He was on fire. His stomach tight, hips losing their sense of rhythm as his dick sank into Bokuto’s relaxed hole over and over. “Bo,” Kuroo said. “Bo, Bo-.”

“Kuroo,” Bokuto’s eyes were hooded, soft and inviting. His lips pink be parted. He was all Kuroo could see, all he could focus on. All he ever wanted to look at again, for as long as he lived. Bokuto said, “come for me, Kuroo. Please.” 

So Kuroo did. 

*****

Bokuto ended up going to morning practice. Kuroo decided to be nice and not ask how it went, but the way Bokuto had gingerly extricated himself from bed in the morning to take a shower told him more than enough. 

*****

“He’s a good guy,” Akaashi said, a few days later. 

Kuroo had stayed over at Bokuto’s place for the first time the night before. And Bokuto’s taciturn friend had caught Kuroo practically naked pilfering his pantry with neck bruises stark against tanned skin. 

Akaashi was now using this as an excuse to lecture. At least this time he wasn’t verbally knifing Kuroo with his sharpened words. 

“He’s almost too good, to be honest. And that makes him easy to hurt. So don’t you dare be a prick.” 

For a brief moment, Kuroo pictured Kenma trying to do the exact same attack dog routine with Bokuto and couldn’t help but smile. 

Akaashi narrowed his eyes, “what’s so funny?”

He tilted his shoulders innocently and simpered, “Nothing, ‘Kaashi. I’m just glad Bo has you in his life.” 

Akaashi’s eyebrows raised delicately. He said coldly: “He had me before you, and he’ll have me after you, too.” 

He could have been offended, except he was fairly certain Akaashi was actually joking. Kuroo slapped a hand over his heart: “Ouch!”

Akaashi held his frown for a few more beats, before it broke and in its place was a slightly less hostile frown. To Kuroo, it looked like a glorious smile. 

“Wha’re’y’st’oin’ere?”

They both turned to see Bokuto’s ruffled hair poking out from his doorway, bleary eyed like a newborn baby bird. 

Akaashi rolled his eyes, “I wanted to check on you, but it seems you’ve fixed everything without my help.” 

“‘Course I have. I’m the best.” 

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “Well, remember you said you’d meet me at the library at 2pm to study this afternoon. I’ll be going now.”

As he opened the front door to head to class, Akaashi sent one last look Kuroo's way. It wasn’t hard to decipher. 

Be careful with him, it said, because if you don’t, I’ll kill you. 

Kuroo saluted Akaashi. He didn’t need to be told twice.

*****

It was Wednesday evening. Kuroo was enjoying the last of the sun's warmth on his patio as he scrolled through his phone. There was a half empty can of beer next to him, and a textbook he’d been meaning to open and read but not gotten around to yet. 

A message popped up at the top of his screen, making him smile. 

🦉: gym!! legs!!!! ill be there 7am

🐈‍⬛: quickie on the showers after

🦉: ON!!!! also 👉👈 dont wanna get banned bro

🐈‍⬛: bathroom? we can lock it

🦉: yeh aight

🐈‍⬛: 🤤🤤🤤 

🦉: 😘😘😘

🐈‍⬛: dont worry tho ill take you for dinner after

🦉: WAHOOO!!!!

It was only when Kuroo lay down to sleep that night, after he daydreamed a while about taking Bokuto out for that date he’d promised, that he realised something quite profound. 

It’d been a week since they’d gotten together, and for that whole week he hadn’t craved a cigarette once.