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“For the record,” Iwaizumi says, “this is a terrible idea.”
“Your input is unappreciated, but noted,” Oikawa says irritably, tugging on the hem of Iwaizumi’s shirt. “Now can you sit down? Your brooding scowl is going to upset Suga-chan.”
Sugawara doesn’t even look up from his phone. Kuroo can’t actually tell what he’s muttering—luckily, he’s found himself at the other end of the table from Suga—but Asahi, beside him, looks dismayed about it.
Oikawa clears his throat pointedly.
“Yeah, Iwaizumi,” Suga says distractedly. “I’m really upset by your muscles.”
“Brooding scowl,” says Oikawa, even more pointedly.
“Right, that too.”
“Oh, for—anyway,” Oikawa says, evidently deciding to class Suga as a lost cause. Suga quirks his lips up at the side, catching Kuroo’s eye, and winks. An evil genius, really. “We are here,” Oikawa enunciates, slamming his hands down on the table—God, his sleeves are even rolled up—“because Kuroo Tetsurou needs to be held accountable for his crimes.”
Um.
“What?” Kuroo asks.
“Yeah, what? I thought we were going to sort out the budget for the exhibition fair,” Ennoshita says.
“That’s second on the agenda,” Kunimi says tonelessly.
Moniwa raises his hand.
“Yes,” Oikawa says, pointing at him. His hand ends up narrowly missing blinding Iwaizumi, who bats it down with a fierce scowl.
“Um. Thank you, hi,” Moniwa says. “I was just wondering why there are so many juniors here? Not that there’s anything wrong with juniors, but they’re not… council members, as far as I can tell.”
He’s right. Kunimi is one thing, but Kageyama and Tsukishima are both there for some reason, and there’s a flash of bangs behind Ushijima’s huge shoulders that can only be Goshiki.
“Kunimi-chan is my personal assistant,” Oikawa says. Kunimi raises an eyebrow at this, which Oikawa predictably ignores. “Tobio-chan is taking the minutes.”
Everyone stares at him for that.
Oikawa, again, ignores this.
“Glasses-kun is—I don’t know, his spell-check?” Oikawa waves his hand dismissively. “Can we get back to the point at hand?”
“Which is what, exactly?” Konoha asks.
“Dude, how come you’re here?” Kuroo asks.
Konoha rolls his eyes. “It’s Akaashi’s birthday tomorrow,” he says. “Yukie and Washio are shopping with Bokuto for the decorations.” When Suga opens his mouth, Konoha adds, “Everyone thought sending both me and Yukie with Bokuto would lead to us being banned from the store.”
Suga closes his mouth, apparently satisfied with this.
“The point,” Oikawa says, clearly losing patience with everyone around him, “is Kuroo’s crimes.”
“Okay,” Atsumu says, glancing up from his phone. Wow. He’s just openly texting right now. Kuroo misses Kita and Aran. “Like what? Forcing us to look at that awful hair?”
“Look who’s talking,” Futakuchi mutters.
“Oi!” Atsumu protests, but Iwaizumi slams his hand down on the table.
“This is really stupid, I know,” he says, ignoring Oikawa’s indignant noises, “but it doesn’t have to be stupid and long. Shut up and let him say his piece so we can all leave.”
Ushijima nods. “Iwaizumi is right,” he says. “We should allow Oikawa the space to speak.”
“All he’s done this whole time is point at Kuroo and say ‘crimes’,” Konoha points out. Not unreasonably, in Kuroo’s opinion. Nonetheless, Konoha gestures impatiently at Oikawa in the universal expression for hurry the fuck up, my best friends are possibly getting banned from a party store as we speak.
“Thank you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says stiffly. “Ushiwaka.” He stands. Which is ridiculous. As is this entire council meeting, actually, so, y’know, par for the course. He clears his throat. “We are here to discuss Kuroo Tetsurou’s crimes, specifically—” Here, he raises his voice, as if anticipating Kuroo’s interruption, “—the endless, egregious, emotionally taxing to unwilling viewers… flirting.”
What.
What.
“With who?” Kuroo asks, incredulous.
Almost all heads swivel to face him. Kunimi’s head doesn’t move, but he does cast a sidelong glance Kuroo’s way. Kageyama doesn’t look up from his notepad, where he does, in fact, seem to be dutifully writing something. Tsukishima is watching over his shoulder and rolls his eyes, pointing at something on the page. Kageyama scowls, then scribbles it out.
“Daichi, obviously,” Suga says.
A few things click into place for Kuroo right then. Mostly Suga’s presence—there’s literally no reason for him to be here unless Oikawa invited him to participate in Kuroo’s torment—but also the lack of both Sawamura and Daishou. He hadn’t thought too hard about the first one, considering Ennoshita is present and he shares a portfolio with Sawamura and Shimizu, but Daishou’s absence in a gathering seemingly dedicated to bullying Kuroo… He retracts 1% of the negative thoughts he’s been volleying in Oikawa’s direction since the first mention of his alleged crimes.
But only 1%.
“This is ridiculous,” Kuroo says. Huffs, possibly.
“Is it, though?” Atsumu asks. He’s still lounging in his seat, phone in hand, but he’s not looking at it anymore, instead casting a skeptical look Kuroo’s way. Kuroo thinks this is remarkably judgemental coming from someone who once burst into tears because Kita gave him a care package. Like, glass houses.
“Okay, you can’t talk,” Konoha says, snorting. “I was there for the party where you pointed at Kita and said you’d land the beer pong shot for him and then brained Kawanishi instead.”
Kuroo always knew Konoha was his favourite person from the Fukurodani building.
“But you’re definitely flirting,” Konoha says, ignoring Atsumu’s sputters as he turns to Kuroo.
Kuroo retracts his statement.
“Yeah, it’s pretty embarrassing to watch,” Ennoshita says. Betrayal from an unexpected corner. Kuroo doesn’t know if he’s ever even spoken to Ennoshita.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kuroo says.
Oikawa seems to take this as a challenge. He’s still standing, but now he starts counting off his fingers.
“You keep buying his favourite snacks for movie night, and arranging yourselves on the subway so that you’re sitting together, and whatever the hell we’re calling your coffee nonsense,” Oikawa lists.
Ennoshita raises his hand. “Coffee nonsense?”
“Kuroo has taken it upon himself to discover Daichi’s ‘perfect coffee order’,” Suga explains. His eyeroll—unnecessary!—speaks volumes.
“It’s very kind,” Asahi says, shooting Kuroo an encouraging smile.
“It’s fucking embarrassing,” Atsumu mutters.
“Sawamura-san doesn’t drink coffee,” Ennoshita says, brow furrowed.
“Apparently he hasn’t ‘found the right one’ yet,” Suga says, shooting Kuroo an unfairly accusatory look.
“Well, he hasn’t,” Kuroo protests weakly, sinking into his seat.
“You keep arm-wrestling him,” Iwaizumi puts in.
“Not to suggest your participation is un-valued, Iwa-chan, but…” Oikawa begins.
Kunimi is less delicate about it. “Iwaizumi-san, that’s like your only hobby.”
Iwaizumi flicks him lightly on the ear. While Kunimi is rubbing it, Iwaizumi says, “I do it broadly.” Whatever that means. He does not look at Oikawa, which Kuroo notes with interest. “Just ask Ushiwaka. We had a best of three the other day because we’d made it to the top of our tiers.”
Kuroo is still processing the fact of there being tiers to this—seriously, who is building this hierarchy? And why isn’t Kuroo involved? He has great arms! Sawamura can vouch for him!—when Kageyama looks up suddenly.
“Oikawa-san is not the top of any tier but you practise with him sometimes,” he says.
“Thank you for your input, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa says testily.
At the same time, Suga says, “Kageyama-kun, that’s just called holding hands.” Tsukishima snorts.
Moniwa mutters something into his lap. Asahi gives him a sympathetic look.
“I saw you wearing each other’s clothes last week,” Futakuchi says suddenly.
“I mean, I borrow Samu’s hoodies sometimes,” Atsumu says grudgingly.
“You’re twins, dipshit,” Futakuchi snaps back. “That’s different. Anyway, it was their whole tracksuits. I only noticed because Aone had a lot of opinions on how inelegant Kuroo’s ankles looked.”
Kuroo finds this highly unlikely—he doesn’t think he’s ever even seen Aone open his mouth, and he has great ankles, thank you very much; he would be winning awards amongst Victorian ladies, he’s sure—but he doesn’t get the chance to defend his joints before everyone turns on him with deeply judgemental expressions. Even Ushijima looks nonplussed. Ushijima. His face barely moves! It’s one of his most comforting qualities!
“Oh my god, did you guys pull an I Don’t Dance?” Suga asks, finally looking interested again.
“I don’t… know what that means,” Moniwa says.
“It’s an American movie,” Ennoshita says. “Well, it’s a reference to one. He’s asking if they swapped clothes in some sort of unexplained homoerotic ritual.”
“Ah,” Moniwa says. Ushijima, beside him, nods understandingly.
Kuroo wonders if he hit his head on the way to the meeting and this is all some sort of concussion-induced fever dream.
“Have you all lost your minds?” he asks.
Ignoring him completely, Konoha adds in thoughtfully, “Y’know, Bokuto did tell me about the time he found you guys in the bathtub.”
“Oh,” Ushijima says. It’s a sound of recognition. Kuroo groans. “I was there for that,” Ushijima confirms. “They were top and tail in the bathtub.”
“That’s the gayest position,” Oikawa says sagely.
Atsumu looks skeptical again. “What, you just watched them in the bath?”
“They were not bathing,” Ushijima assures him. Everyone looks at him, waiting for a further elaboration. Even Kuroo—who was there, in a totally normal, reasonable capacity—is a little curious about what he’s going to say.
“Oh my god,” Oikawa mutters, then looks at Ushijima exasperatedly. “What were they doing?”
“I believe the term is a Deep & Meaningful,” Ushijima says carefully. Kuroo can hear the capital letters in his voice. Ushijima looks satisfied with his usage of modern slang, though, so. That’s a win, Kuroo guesses. He’s glad someone can derive something positive out of this lunacy. It would be better if it were him, of course, but. Small victories.
“Why do you have conversations in the bathtub?” Asahi—Asahi! The last person on the planet that Kuroo would expect to contribute to the trainwreck going on here!—asks. He seems genuinely curious, at least; maybe even concerned. “Doesn’t it hurt your back?”
“You are actually sixty years old,” Suga tells him. Asahi’s expression is wounded, but Suga seems unapologetic. “A better question is why they were clothed in the bathtub!”
“There was no water,” Ushijima says, brow furrowed.
“That’s not exactly where I was going with that one, but thank you for the clarification,” Suga says. The smile he shoots Ushijima is so warm that for a second, even Kuroo feels comforted.
Then Suga turns to face Kuroo, eyes now full of mischief, and Kuroo is feeling decidedly Not Comforted.
“I don’t really think we need to keep listing off his crimes, Oikawa,” Suga says.
Kuroo blinks. He had not seen that one coming.
“We should just move onto the intervention phase,” Suga continues.
Kuroo is suddenly filled with even more apprehension than he had previously known possible.
Kageyama, of all people, raises his hand. “Is this replacing the funding decisions as item two on the agenda?”
“It’s a subset of the first point,” Oikawa says. Kunimi is staring at Kageyama—currently nodding and scribbling into his notebook—incredulously.
“I don’t think I need an intervention,” Kuroo says.
“This isn’t about you,” Oikawa says. Kuroo raises an eyebrow. Oikawa flaps his hand impatiently in his direction. “I mean, your welfare. We’re not intervening for you. It’s to save the rest of us from the -- the biohazard the two of you are.”
“Biohazard?” Kuroo demands.
“That’s dramatic,” Iwaizumi agrees.
“Thank you,” Kuroo exclaims.
“I mean, he’s probably got a point about the intervention being for the good of society,” Iwaizumi says, “but biohazard is just stupid.”
Oikawa and Kuroo frown at him simultaneously. Then Kuroo notices what Atsumu is doing.
“Are you filming this?” he asks, incredulous.
“Videochatting,” Atsumu says. He turns his phone around so that Kuroo can see his screen. Kenma holds up a hand in greeting, Hinata jumping and waving from behind him.
“I. What. Why?” Kuroo feels like it’s actually very deeply unfair that he is facing these allegations alone. Sawamura should be suffering alongside him.
Atsumu shrugs. “I sent a photo to Shouyou-kun of Tobio-kun’s minute-taking and he asked what we were doing,” he says. “Kenma was there too, I guess.”
“Kenma, save me,” Kuroo begs.
Kenma shakes his head. “I agree with them,” he says. “You and Sawamura should really stop dancing around the subject. It’s annoying. How can you get to the next level if you keep running away from the boss fight?”
Well. Trust Kenma to get right to the heart of it and give Kuroo a lump to swallow around in one fell move.
“That was really smart, Kenma,” Hinata is saying in the background, and Ennoshita seems to be passing judgement on Atsumu’s filming techniques—it’s a video call! I’m not making a fuckin’ music video!, which was met with … is that what you think cinema is? Music videos?, so that’s going great, clearly—and Konoha is texting someone and casting very unsubtle sidelong glances Kuroo’s way, but he can’t bring himself to pay real attention to any of it.
Because now he’s thinking about it. Capital letters, even. Thinking About It, meaning Sawamura, meaning the way his grin looks when Kuroo startles it out of him with some commentary in an undertone during class, meaning his steady care, meaning his inability to turn down a dare if Bokuto and Kuroo phrase it just right, meaning the way he stubbornly wears the presents his family gives him even if it means his stupid biceps stretching out a fucking librarian-style sweater, meaning his sleepy expression when they’re studying too late at night, meaning the way he clutches his stomach when he laughs too hard at a film, meaning the way his handsome face goes grumpy when the captain of the basketball team walks past, meaning the way all of these little things about Sawamura Daichi twist Kuroo’s heart something fierce.
It’s not that he didn’t know, exactly. He’s always known in the back of his mind. It’s kind of impossible to miss, how good a guy Sawamura is. He’s handsome, and kind, and caring, and funny, and determined, and a thousand fucking other things that Kuroo sometimes wishes didn’t bury themselves so deep beneath his skin, impossible to dig out, but mostly wouldn’t change for anything in the world.
He’s a lucky guy, you know? Getting to know someone like Sawamura, getting to be friends with someone like Sawamura, getting to tease out endless reactions from someone like Sawamura.
Kuroo is a lot of things, but he’s never been greedy. He wants to share things, wants to make a space for everyone. When he was younger, back when he and Kenma were playing volleyball at the local gym for summer antics, Nekomata-sensei had heard him say he wasn’t tall enough to spike, and so Nekomata had said, Let’s lower the net, then. It’s been a million things since then: volleyball, chemistry, even laundry and baking and taxes. All these things Kuroo’s learned to do, things he’s loved doing or needed to know, things he’s then gone on to share. Lower the net. Make it easy. Share the joy.
But sometimes when Sawamura flashes him that sidelong smile, the one where he ducks his head and grins at Kuroo, lips quirked a little higher on the left than the right --
Sometimes, then, Kuroo wants to keep that to himself.
“Why does his face look like that?” Goshiki asks. Kuroo suspects it’s meant to be a whisper. It leaves a lot to be desired.
“We call that an epiphany,” Oikawa says, all soft satisfaction. It’s a surprisingly subtle note in his voice, and it makes Kuroo look up. Oikawa’s expression is watchful, and more on the side of pleased than smug. Kuroo feels a sudden flash of fondness. It’s mingled with exasperation, of course, and no small amount of wishing to throttle his friend, but.
It’s nice, sometimes, to have someone that cares enough about your emotional welfare that they’ll annoy everyone they know to stage an intervention, he guesses. Even if it’s probably for their peace of mind as much as anything else.
Of course, Oikawa ruins the moment a second later when he turns to Goshiki and says, “Does the library in Shiratorizawa not stock dictionaries? Wow, what a shock. When it’s supposedly the best house to live in, right, Ushiwaka?”
“Okay, have your weird housing rivalry grudgematch later,” Suga says, interrupting before they can get started. “Daichi’s due back in, like—”
“Daichi’s what?”
Oh, great.
Shimizu and Sawamura are standing in the doorway, surveying the assorted council members (and then some). Shimizu’s expression is as calm as ever, but Sawamura has his hands on his hips.
“Early,” Suga says, looking put-out. “I thought you guys said the bus was running late.”
“We walked,” Shimizu says. “Sugawara, why are you here?”
“I decided to drop in to represent you guys in your absence,” he says airily.
“Ennoshita is here,” Sawamura points out.
“You’re not qualified to do that,” Shimizu says at the same time.
Sawamura then notices Asahi, and does a double take. “Asahi? Why are you here?” His gaze travels across the assorted members, his eyebrows inching steadily up his forehead as he does. It rests for a second on Kuroo, short enough that he wonders if maybe he imagined it—
And then it lands on Oikawa, and settles into a frown. “Oikawa, what is this?” Sawamura asks.
“That’s an unnecessarily accusatory tone, Sawamura-kun,” Oikawa says, sniffing.
Sawamura just raises an eyebrow.
“Should I write down this question?” Kageyama asks.
“What? Kageyama, is he making you be his secretary?” Sawamura asks incredulously. His chest is swelling up, shoulders rising a little, like he’s drawing himself up for a bout of righteous indignation against Oikawa for domineering the juniors. It’s stupid, how fond Kuroo feels about the thought.
“No,” Kageyama says. Sawamura deflates. “That’s Kunimi.” Sawamura looks at Kunimi, nonplussed.
“Kageyama is taking minutes,” Tsukishima volunteers. His tone is level and his expression calm, but Kuroo’s goaded him enough times in the rec room to recognise that look in his eyes: he’s figured out a way to throw Oikawa under the bus, and so, of course, he will.
It’s possibly even a marker of genuine friendship, looking out for Kageyama in an underhanded way that the boy himself would never think to call him out for. On any other day, Kuroo might even be misty-eyed about it. As it is, though, his emotional reserves have already been spent on the absolute lunacy of the past twenty minutes.
“The minutes?” Sawamura looks at Oikawa again.
Then three things happen at once:
ONE. Sawamura looks at Kageyama and asks, “What have you been taking minutes for?”
TWO. There’s a loud thud, the sound of something heavy hitting the ground, and the very familiar voice of Shirofuku Yukie scolding, “Bokuto!”
THREE. Bokuto soars into the room, spots Sawamura, and says, face falling, “Aw, man, did we miss the ‘I do’s?!”
There is a second of ringing silence. Then:
“The whats?” Kuroo demands.
“Oikawa-san’s intervention about Kuroo-san’s crimes,” Kageyama says to Sawamura, half a beat later.
“Flirting,” chimes in Atsumu.
“Arm-wrestling,” Iwaizumi says.
“The bathtub incident,” Ushijima says, nodding.
“Changing his gym routine to line up with yours,” comes Kenma’s voice, tinny, through Atsumu’s phone. Kuroo had forgotten he and Hinata were watching.
“‘I wonder if he can break a watermelon with his thighs’,” Suga says, voice pitched funnily. It takes Kuroo a second to realise it’s meant to be an imitation of his. Before he can bristle with indignation, Sawamura speaks.
“Hold on,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need someone to rewind here and start from the beginning.”
“We’re having a meeting about you and Kuroo,” Bokuto says with entirely too much confidence for someone who wasn’t present for any of it.
“About how you’re really bad at DTR-ing,” Shirofuku chimes in, popping up next to Shimizu. She appears to be holding no less than four boxes. Bokuto is not holding any.
Kageyama lifts his hand.
“Defining the relationship,” Hinata says through the phone. Kuroo squints. He might even be rolling his eyes. “Duh!”
Kageyama lowers his hand, but scowls at the phone. The tips of his ears are pink and he’s muttering something as he scribbles into his notes. Tsukishima snorts at whatever he’s saying, and Hinata laughs too.
Sawamura looks overwhelmed, understandably.
Suga does not show him any sympathy. “But, you know, it’s not just Kuroo’s crimes,” he says. “I’ve seen you both at barbecue.”
“What?” Sawamura asks.
“He’s right,” Moniwa—Moniwa!—says suddenly. “The… the meat-flirting.”
“The what?” Futakuchi demands. He eyes Sawamura suspiciously.
“Not like that,” Ennoshita says. “He means literally. They keep stealing each other’s meat.”
Atsumu opens his mouth. Ennoshita holds up his hand. “They’re not siblings, Miya,” he says. Atsumu closes his mouth. “It’s like… sharing food is how some people flirt, right? And some people hold hands. The meat vulture thing is to food as a love language what arm-wrestling is to hand-holding.”
They all take a moment to digest that.
“Yeah, that tracks,” Konoha says.
Sawamura shoots him a betrayed look, and Konoha shrugs. “Hey, don’t look at me, your kouhai’s the one who said it,” he points out. “Anyway, remember that time Kuroo got food poisoning and you kept him company the whole time?”
“That was friendly behaviour,” Sawamura protests.
Kuroo grimaces. “I don’t want to throw wood on the fire here, but I was pretty gross,” he says. “Kenma wouldn’t even come near me in case of ‘symptoms presenting themselves’.”
“I have siblings,” Sawamura says, snorting. “I’ve seen worse.”
“But you don’t have to,” Suga says. “You chose to do that.”
“Akaashi would do that for me, I think,” Bokuto says thoughtfully.
“You’re kinda proving our point here, bud,” Shirofuku says.
Before Bokuto can chase that thought down too far, Oikawa says, “There’s also the cuddling.”
“We’re napping,” Kuroo says.
“In the same bed,” Oikawa shoots back.
“Only because we study together in my room,” Kuroo says. “We just get drowsy sometimes.”
Sawamura is wrinkling his nose. “You do get clingy when you sleep,” he says slowly, like he’s thinking about it. Which. Okay, Kuroo doesn’t know if he minds if Sawamura figures it out—it’s about him, after all, and Sawamura is a good guy. Maybe the best one Kuroo knows. If he doesn’t feel the same, Kuroo at least has faith that Sawamura won’t let it interfere with their friendship, which is the main thing Kuroo doesn’t want to lose.
He’d just prefer he figure it out, y’know, not surrounded by twenty-odd people.
“You’re… warm,” Kuroo says helplessly.
“He’s warm,” Oikawa repeats, staring at Kuroo. “Kuro-chan…”
“He is!” Kuroo defends. “Warm, and…” His throat feels dry. “Y’know, comfortable.” A beat. “Safe.”
There’s something shifting on Sawamura’s face, something dawning on him.
“This is the sappiest thing he’s ever said,” Konoha mutters. Do he and Kenma have some sort of club dedicated to Kuroo’s more sentimental moments? Who else is part of it? Hopefully not Yaku or Daishou. Kuroo would never hear the end of it.
“You know, Daichi, when you sprained your wrist, you never asked me for notes,” Suga says. It’s more quiet than before; a little pointed, but not so combative.
“Your notes are terrible,” Sawamura says, but he’s still looking at Kuroo.
“Mine aren’t,” Oikawa points out.
“They’re not,” Sawamura agrees. He’s still looking at Kuroo, who can feel a flush creeping up his neck. “But.”
“But?” Asahi prompts after a few seconds pass.
Sawamura blinks. “Kuroo is reliable,” he says. Which is probably the least effusive compliment Kuroo’s had in years from anyone that isn’t Kenma or Yaku, but it makes something warm rise in his chest. Coming from Sawamura, that matters, you know? Sawamura isn’t mean—he’s the opposite, really, generous and kind and noble—but he’s not dramatic except for when the basketball team is involved. He says his words with care, measures them out and means them wholeheartedly. And he’s reliable, and values that trait in others.
So it counts for a lot, coming from Sawamura. It’s not new—Kuroo’s always been reliable—but it just – hits different, is all.
“Thanks,” Kuroo says. His hand has crept up to rub at the nape of his neck.
Sawamura gives an odd, aborted nod. “You’re welcome,” he says. He’s looking at Kuroo again, just – eyes fixed on him, unwavering.
From his peripheral vision, Kuroo can see that Goshiki has migrated from behind Ushijima to huddle with Kageyama and Tsukishima. Kageyama seems to have stolen Atsumu’s phone—or, more likely, Atsumu got bored of holding it and handed Hinata and Kenma off to his juniors—and Tsukishima is raising an eyebrow at Kunimi, somewhere between a challenge and an invitation.
Kuroo should probably be concerned about whatever they’re up to—he’s suddenly very grateful that it didn’t occur to Oikawa to get some of the Nekoma juniors involved; Inuoka’s enthusiasm would be one thing, but Lev? Absolutely not—but he’s too busy holding Sawamura’s gaze.
“Safe, huh?” Sawamura asks. He’s tilting his head. It draws Kuroo’s attention to the line of his throat, makes him swallow at the sight.
“Can’t be the first time you’ve heard that one, Sa’amura,” Kuroo drawls. It sounds almost-normal. “You help old ladies cross the street in your spare time.”
“That was one time.”
“You rescue kittens from trees, even when you’re vertically challenged,” Kuroo continues.
“You literally helped with that,” Sawamura reminds him, scowling a little. It’s not the sharp scowl, the one he fixes on the basketball captain or people making fun of Kageyama or Noya and Tanaka when they’re causing trouble. It’s the one with something fond in the line of his mouth, something exasperated in the crinkle of his eyes.
It’s one Kuroo sees a lot.
“No remark on the height thing?” Iwaizumi murmurs.
“He’s recently been forced to accept that he has started shrinking,” Shimizu says.
Sawamura ignores this sidebar, somehow. “Anyway, you spend your free time helping all our juniors,” he says to Kuroo. He’s closer now. Kuroo doesn’t remember either of them moving, but Kuroo’s standing now, and Sawamura’s come further into the room, closer to where Kuroo is.
“It’s just my civic duty,” Kuroo protests.
“Kenma told me about how you went out of your way to make Nekoma a better place for him,” Sawamura throws at him.
Kuroo shoots a look in the juniors’ direction. A second later, the phone is turned to face him and Kenma gives him an unbothered expression, shrugging.
“That’s what friends are for,” Kuroo says, turning back to Sawamura. He’s even closer now.
“You’re a good guy, Kuroo Tetsurou,” Sawamura says.
“This is the weirdest flirting I’ve ever seen,” Futakuchi mutters.
It should break the spell, but it doesn’t. Kuroo blinks, but keeps looking at Sawamura, who keeps looking back.
“Should we… go…?” Asahi murmurs, presumably to Suga.
“No, are you kidding? I’ve suffered so much oblivious bullshit,” Suga hisses back. “I’ve earned this.”
Swamura flips him off, but doesn’t take his eyes off Kuroo.
“Oikawa-san, it’s time for your next appointment,” Kunimi says blandly, somewhere in the background. Kuroo’s whole vision has tunnelled onto Sawamura.
“What? No, Kunimi-chan, cancel everything. I cannot rest until this is settled,” Oikawa says, indignant and meddlesome as always. “It’s interfering with my health. My sleep routine. My skincare regimen.”
“Ah,” Kunimi says flatly. “Of course. My mistake.”
Kuroo ignores all this. Steps closer to Sawamura. “Y’know, I’ve heard that about you too,” he says casually. It’s weird. He feels both on edge and nonchalant at the same time. It’s like the moment before you dive off the highest board in the pool. There’s all that apprehension there, the anticipation, the what if, the adrenaline. But there’s also every other time you’ve done it, the method, the routine, the learned skill. Every other time you’ve done it, every moment you can trust in.
It’s a little like that. This is an adrenaline moment, a what if, an edge of a precipice, or a diving board, or whatever the fuck else – but it’s also familiar, all the years of dancing around each other, of friendship, of trust and camaraderie and the way it feels when it’s late at night and the light is low in his room, just the dim lamp and the night sky outside the window and the quiet curve of Sawamura’s smile, just for that moment. Just for Kuroo.
“Heard what?” Sawamura asks. His eyebrow is raised, all familiar challenge.
“That you’re a good guy,” Kuroo says. He steps closer. Sawamura’s within reach now. “The kind of guy that takes care of his friends, even when they’ve got food poisoning and are apparently super gross.”
“I really think we should leave now,” Asahi says.
“Yeah, I’m with Azumane,” Iwaizumi says before Suga or Oikawa can protest. They still do, of course, but as far as Kuroo can tell, they’re ignored. He’s not really paying that much attention, though. Sawamura’s smiling up at him, that stupid, fearless grin he gets when he’s playing a game he loves and it’s time for the next round.
There’s a lot of shuffling behind them, and some errant cursing, but Kuroo’s attention is firmly on Sawamura, who says, “Well, grossness is subjective.”
It makes Kuroo laugh, a startled thing. He’s still grinning and shaking his head when he catches Sawamura’s eye again, and it just – he looks so fond, is the thing. It makes Kuroo’s whole chest ache.
“Wise words,” Kuroo says, his laugh still lingering in his voice.
“I heard you’re the kind of guy that takes notes for people who fucked up their wrist doing something silly,” Sawamura says, impossibly fond.
Kuroo shrugs. “Maybe I think wrist injuries are endearing,” he says.
Sawamura raises an eyebrow. “All wrist injuries?”
“I can’t believe you’re making me miss this,” Oikawa is hissing in the background, followed by a grunt and huff—presumably Iwaizumi shoving him.
“You have a television,” Ushijima points out. “Surely you can find similar entertainment there?”
“It’s not the same,” Oikawa is arguing, but then the sound trails off, followed by a light thud. Maybe the door. Kuroo doesn’t want to look away to make sure.
“Well,” Kuroo says, then, swallowing, “Maybe yours specifically.”
“Is that a confession?” Sawamura asks. His eyes are laughing now.
“Is grossness being subjective one?” Kuroo shoots back, raising an eyebrow.
Sawamura shrugs. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess it is.”
“Oh,” Kuroo says.
“Oh,” Sawamura repeats.
“Yeah,” Kuroo says, smiling slowly. “I guess it is. Your wrist injuries did it for me, Sa’amura. They’re so seductive and enticing and—” He’s cut off, first by Sawamura’s huff and his own laughter, and then by Sawamura’s broad palms coming up to his face and guiding it down into a gentle kiss.
Kuroo hums against his lips, giddy.
When Sawamura releases him, his cheeks are a little flushed and his eyes are bright. “Is that okay?” he asks.
“Give me another, and I’ll get back to you,” Kuroo suggests.
Sawamura rolls his eyes. “You talk too much,” he says, but does as he’s told.
Kuroo grins against his mouth. He can’t imagine anything better.