Chapter Text
A 10-year-old Kenma lies on the grass, his Game Boy Advance raised above him as he plays. Beside him, Kuroo volleys a ball to himself, mumbling his every thought to a Kenma who pretends not to listen.
Kuroo hits the ball poorly, rolling away from him. “Do you think we’ll still be friends when we’re old men?”
Kenma’s eyes stay on his game. “Are you still going to want to be my friend?”
“Duh.”
“Then I guess we’ll be friends,” Kenma agrees easily.
“What about you – will you still want to be my friend?”
Kenma’s quiet when he answers. “I’ll always want to be your friend.”
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Kozume Kenma: University Student, Stock Trader, Pro-gamer, YouTuber, Bouncing Ball Corp CEO.
Kozume Kenma: Utterly exhausted, constantly burnt-out, habitually overextending.
Kenma yawns, hitting export on his most recent YouTube video. He takes a long drink from his mug of coffee, leaning back in his desk chair. He tries to decide if it’s worth getting an hour or two of sleep or if he should just look over this quarter’s projections before his Bouncing Ball meeting in the morning.
He pulls out his phone; the time glares at him. 4:47 am. He turns his alarm on for 6:30 am and walks across the room to the sofa sitting at the side of the room. Pulling a blanket off the back of the couch, he closes his eyes and is almost immediately asleep.
Kenma’s never been able to picture much of a future for himself. Not in a way he thinks is particularly depressing. Just, when he thinks about what his life will look like five, ten years ahead, it’s always a vague shape of continuing to go on. He’s always liked concrete goals more.
He thinks it’s why he gravitates toward games. Level up this way, win the boss fight that way. Obtainable, observable metrics of growth and success. How do you apply that to being an adult? You just live until – until what? You die?
So Kenma doesn’t make long term plans – or know what he’s aiming for. That probably explains why he so easily gets distracted by opportunity. He doesn’t want to think about the number of hyphens explaining what he does, what he is. It’s tiring to even count them.
The morning meeting with his small board of executives is as successful as expected. Things with Bouncing Ball are going well. Especially with Shouyou’s return to Japan and subsequent splash into the Japanese competitive volleyball scene.
He looks at his phone, scrolling through apps so he can order lunch for himself and his workers. Is it sad that the three most recent calls in his history are all food delivery services? He frowns. Below them is Shouyou’s number - he called him a few weeks ago. Then there’s Tora, who’d asked him if he wanted to go for drinks about a month back (he couldn’t; he had a stream scheduled), Akaashi asking his opinion on Ten Years Japan (he hasn’t had time to see it yet), and almost three months ago, Kuroo.
He opens his message history with Kuroo. It’s been depressingly sporadic in the last year and a bit. Kenma’s heart feels hollow at the thought. How does that happen? Is it just growing up? You just become too busy with school and work and life that friends are unavoidably more difficult to stay connected to?
His finger hovers over the call button. If he pressed it, though, what would he even say? Hello, sorry it’s been 3 months. Every day is too tiring to even think about interacting with people.
The sentiment feels like concrete in his veins. Since when is being with Kuroo too tiring? It’s better to just stay away and not think about that.
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He’s the last in the office that night. Outside his room, the hallways and workspaces are dark. Light by light, employees leave for their respective homes. He should be done soon, just a few more emails to respond to, a few more outlines to sign off on.
He clicks open a web browser.
╔══════════════╗
YOU’VE WON
╚══════════════╝
Kenma squints at the screen. He hasn’t navigated from his homepage. How is there a pop-up already… He cocks his head, looks for the X to close the window.
╔══════════════╗
GLIMPSE EARNED
CLAIM YOUR PRIZE
╚══════════════╝
The text changes.
╔══════════════╗
KOZUME KENMA,
ENJOY YOUR GLIMPSE
╚══════════════╝
Kenma’s heart races. The words barely register before his eyes begin to feel heavy. His head falls forward, and Kenma sleeps.
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Kenma wakes up to the beep beep beep of his alarm. His body tenses immediately as he remembers the night before. If he fell asleep at work, how did he end up back at home? He looks around - it is his room, though something feels wrong.
Maybe he’s misremembering last night. He hasn’t slept for more than 3 hours on any given night in the last week or so. Maybe exhaustion is affecting his memory?
The beep beep beep continues.
“You going to turn that off, babe?” He hears a voice call from the bathroom. His heart rate speeds up. He knows that voice. No matter how long it’s been since he’s seen him, he wouldn’t ever forget it.
Kuroo walks into the room in a button up and slacks, tie undone around his neck. He walks over and slides his finger along Kenma’s phone, turning it off.
Thankfully, Kenma is wrapped tightly in the bedspread. He feels like he needs the coverage while he tries to figure out what the fuck is going on right now. Kuroo sits on the edge of the bed. He leans over Kenma, bracketing him in with his arms. “You okay?” he asks, voice full of worry.
Kenma doesn’t know what’s happening. Is he dreaming? He clears his throat. “Kuro?”
Kuroo gives him a look of confusion and slight concern. He reaches his hand out, pushes Kenma’s bangs out of the way and places his hand there. Kenma closes his eyes at the touch. “You don’t feel warm.” He’s still frowning. “Bad dream?”
“I think so.” Kenma swallows. He’s flitting between options, fight, flight or freeze, then decides it’s best to wait it out and figure out what’s going on before he freaks out. Besides, something deep in his bones, a long-held memory, reminds him that he’s always safe with Kuroo. Kuroo runs his fingers backward through Kenma’s hair and the feeling of safety gets stronger – vibrates with the frequency of Kuroo.
“I’m sorry.” Kuroo leans down and kisses Kenma on the forehead. Kenma’s breath catches at the back of his throat. What is happening? “Text me if you need anything.” Kuroo gets up and starts tying his tie. “I have meetings all morning, but I’ll keep my phone nearby.”
Kenma lets his head nod the smallest amount. Kuroo is in and out of the room a few more times before he looks fully dressed and ready. Kenma doesn’t think he’s moved a centimetre. “Don’t stay in bed too much longer.” Kuroo looks down at his phone. “And eat.”
“I will.”
Kuroo smiles at him before rushing out the door. Kenma hears him call out a Love you before the sound of the front door opening and closing makes its way upstairs.
The words bounce around his head – Love you. Love you. Love you.
Kenma’s breathing comes too quickly. His brain starts to rush and scatter in a million different directions. What has happened? Where is he? He squeezes his fists tight, pushing crescent moon imprints into the palms of his hands. In – one, two, three. Out – one, two, three. He repeats his counting, focuses on slowing his breath.
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He reaches to the side table and grabs his phone. The lock screen is a meaningless photo of a skyline. Swiping his passcode, it unlocks. He takes small comfort in the fact that he still knows the correct digits. The home screen lights up. A photo of Kuroo smiles up at him - he’s holding calico cat who’s stretching up to rub its face against Kuroo’s chest. Kenma doesn’t remember the moment at all.
The date at the top of the screen is just as he expected, one day later. He opens the camera roll, flicking through pictures, hoping that something will look familiar. There aren’t too many photos, which doesn’t surprise him. He scrolls through them and one obvious fact solidifies in his mind – he and Kuroo are together. Romantically. Kenma is just about ready to have another panic attack when he hears a knock at the front door. He gets up, pulls on a hoodie, and heads downstairs.
He opens the door to find a delivery worker waiting on the door step.
“Hello, I’m looking for Kozume Kenma.”
Kenma nods. “That’s me.”
“Sign here.” The worker hands over a clipboard and pen. Kenma signs his name along the bottom. He hands the clipboard back and receives a large envelope. “Thank you. Have a good day.”
Kenma brings the envelope inside, closing the door. He tears it open, and reads:
Congratulations, Kozume Kenma, on being chosen to experience a Glimpse!
A glimpse allows you to live in an alternate universe to your own. This universe was created by a series of decisions you could have made in the last 1-5 years. Your time in the glimpse is not permanent. The amount of time spent in the glimpse is dependent on the individual and cannot be predicted by the overseeing body of glimpse support workers.
You are not in a coma.
You are not on your deathbed.
You are not experiencing a good (or bad) trip on hallucinogens.
Please note that while you experience your glimpse, time is stationary in your primary universe. Please be assured no individual in universe prime will be harmed by you experiencing your glimpse.
Enjoy!
Kenma lowers the paper slowly from his face. What the fuck?
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Kenma goes through the house room by room, hoping to better understand the life he’s stepped into. Some are near identical to what he remembers. Both the kitchen and the living room seem laid out in the same way.
Some rooms are completely different – the guest room now functions as an office. Kenma walks in. A large cardigan is draped on the back of the desk chair. Without thinking about it, he picks it up and puts it on. It’s exceptionally oversized on his frame, swallowing his fingertips. He breathes in the fabric at the collar. Papers containing Kuroo’s precise hand writing cover the surface of the table. He looks around – a plant in the corner of the room, bookshelves on the opposite wall, photos filling up the space in between.
He takes each image in one by one. A photo of him and his parents at his high school graduation. One of Kuroo’s grandparents in their living room. Several of them with friends he remembers from volleyball, from university, some people he doesn’t know at all. Kenma curls his fingers into tight fists as he takes in the next. Kuroo sits in a large arm chair. His arms are wound around a smiling Kenma, who sits sideways in his lap, his legs thrown over the armrest. It’s obvious neither Kuroo nor Kenma knew this picture was being taken, each of them seemingly lost to the world as they stare at one another. Kenma feels his eyes begin to tear up at the intimacy of the photo – at the fact that he has never felt anything like it.
He continues his tour. Some rooms have small changes – a streaming schedule on the wall of his gaming room, post-it notes laying out work flow processes. He notices that he’s supposed to stream this afternoon – 2 to 6. He goes into the bathroom and finds a small note, clearly ripped off of the corner of a larger piece of paper, tucked into the mirror frame. He tugs the paper loose.
I like the way your face scrunches when you’re annoyed
Kenma rolls his eyes, but can’t stop the smile that takes over his face as his fingers run over the ink. He pockets the piece of paper. Walking into his bedroom – their bedroom, he supposes – he makes note of the clothes in their closet, Kuroo’s pushed to the left side. There’s a paperback novel on the bedside table, well worn along the spine. He goes through the dresser, finds the drawers that are his. In the top drawer, below his underwear, he finds more notes. A lot of notes. All containing Kuroo’s scrawl.
I like the freckles on your thighs
I like driving nowhere with you
I like that you hold my hand even though you’re embarrassed
I like the home we made
Kenma pushes them all back to the bottom of the drawer. He slides down the wall next to the dresser, and sits quietly there as his heart pounds. He doesn’t know how long he stays there.
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“I’m home,” Kuroo calls into the house as he enters.
When Kenma gets to the living room, he sees Kuroo sprawled out on the sofa. His workbag is thrown down at the door, a plastic bag full of takeout perched on the kotatsu. Kuroo’s arm is thrown over his eyes. “I’m exhausted,” he whines at Kenma.
“Hi.” Kenma pokes at Kuroo’s stomach.
“Mmm, hello.” Kuroo reaches out, blindly pulling at Kenma’s arms. Kenma sways before letting his body fall on top of Kuroo’s. “Did the day get better?” Kuroo’s voice is slow, syllables dragged out by the time of day.
Kenma nods. “It did.”
“I know what went wrong.” Kuroo shifts then, pulling something out of his pocket. “You forgot this by the sink.” He holds out a ring. Kenma’s brain takes longer to register the item than his body does. His arm automatically moves so Kuroo can slip it onto his left ring finger. “There.” Kuroo’s eyes are impossibly soft as he looks at Kenma.
Kenma’s breathing comes faster, his head swims. The only thing he can think to do is lean up and kiss Kuroo – kiss Kuroo – for the first time in his life. Kenma’s lips tingle when he pulls away. “Thank you.”
Kuroo’s hands are rubbing up and down along Kenma’s back. His eyes are closed again as he quietly whispers, “We have to eat before we sleep.”
“Who said I’m sleepy?”
“Well, I am.” Kuroo sits up. “I brought home food. Come on.” Kuroo settles on the floor, tugs open the takeout bag, pulling out container after container to place on the table.
“Work was bad?” Kenma asks hesitantly. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, doesn’t want to screw anything up. He feels wildly out of practice with human interaction.
“Not really. Still have a lot to do before the 28th though.”
Kenma nods. It’s a few weeks away – the first of the month having just passed. Kenma makes a note to look through his email before bed to figure out what’s happening on the 28th. “Anything I can help with?”
“More than you’re already doing?” Kuroo shakes his head. They sit and begin to eat. “Just tell me it’s going to be great and I’m not totally ruining our company and its reputation.”
A few more gears click into place. So, Kuroo runs, at least in part, Bouncing Ball here. “It’s going to be fine. You’re not ruining Bouncing Ball.”
Kuroo sighs. “Thanks, babe.” Kenma’s cheeks colour, he looks down at his very interesting meal. Kuroo continues, “Still, I can’t wait until you’re done with school and can come back to the company.”
Kenma chews slowly. “Soon.” He fishes for more information. “What do you have left to do?”
Kuroo wails loudly and Kenma laughs at him. Dramatic. “We have a few more tables worth of tickets to sell to meet our goal. Still need confirmation from two of the five prefecture representatives invited. Most of the auction items have been settled on, but I still need to figure out how I’m going to collect them all before the night.” He takes a drawn-out breath. “But other than that, we’re pretty set.”
Kenma pushes food around on his plate, thinking. “Give me a list of the auction items. I can go pick some up between streams.”
“You have to focus on finishing your degree.”
Kenma rolls his eyes. “I can handle it.” He pins Kuroo with his look. “Let me help.”
Kuroo nods. “You’re right. I’ll email you tomorrow.”
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“What time is Sugawara coming over today?”
“Should be here soon.”
Kuroo nods. “I’m heading to the gym then. Have fun.” Kenma leans his head up for Kuroo to kiss him on the way out of the room.
It’s taken Kenma almost no effort to get used to living with Kuroo – eating with him, talking with him, sleeping next to him every night. There’s a small part of him that’s scared of how easily and happily he’s taken to this life with Kuroo. Kenma has an envelope stored in his streaming room reminding him that this is temporary, that he shouldn’t get used to the comfort of his life here.
His phone vibrates in his back pocket.
Sugawara:
I’m stopping for coffee, want me to pick anything up for you?
Kenma types out a no thanks.
Kenma brings his laptop to the kitchen, pulls out his comp sci notes. It took a while to figure out what his calendar meant when it read “Sugawara Sensei” every Saturday morning. He clicks open a folder titled Executive Functioning - Resources. Scanning the folder, he opens a PDF or two to read its content. In the folder he finds article upon article about things like task initiation, impulse control, organization. Things that Kenma always just thought he was bad at, and other people were good at. It seems he was wrong. It seems Sugawara is helping him with these things. He reads a few of the articles as he waits for Sugawara to show up.
“I got pastries.” Sugawara holds up a small paper bag when Kenma opens the door for him.
“Come in.” He leads him to the kitchen.
Sugawara sets the food on the kitchen table, throws his messenger bag on the ground next to the chair he deposits himself in. Kenma turns on the kettle to make himself tea.
“Didn’t eat yet?” Sugawara asks.
Kenma shakes his head. “No. Just woke up.”
Sugawara laughs. “I figured. I grabbed some of those apple turnovers you like.” Sugawara pulls out what looks like a stack of student’s work. “Have you started your graphics problem set?”
Kenma feels his footing in the conversation take hold. He’s lucky that he’s in the same courses here as he was in his own world. He shakes his head. “Not yet.”
Sugawara nods. “It’s due at the end of next week, right?”
“Mm,” Kenma hums. He pours himself a mug of tea and comes to sit at the table with Sugawara.
“How about we work for an hour, then take an Overcooked break?”
“Okay.”
Eventually Sugawara stretches. “How many questions did you get through?”
Kenma scrolls up through his work. “Three of the five.”
“Wonderful!” Sugawara gets up and moves to the living room, turning on the Switch. Kenma follows him, and settles behind the kotatsu in front of the TV, grabbing a controller. “What world did we leave off on?”
“I can’t remember,” Kenma answers very honestly.
“Daichi still won’t play with me at home.” Sugawara pouts. “He says I get too bossy.” Kenma smiles, hoping Sugawara doesn’t need much in the way of conversation. He’s not sure of the usual cadence of their interactions – not having been close friends in his other life. “Who needs him anyway, when I have one of Japan’s top gaming streamers helping me save the onion kingdom?”
As they play, Kenma becomes sure of one thing. Daichi is right – Sugawara is very bossy. Kenma ends up laughing more than once as an indignant Sugawara flaps and screams at his avatar on screen. “Why would he throw the chicken in the river! Throw it on the ground! THE GROUND!”
“Maybe it’s time we turn the game off.”
“Hmm, okay,” Sugawara agrees. “We did get to world 4. That’s something to be proud of!” He marches them back to their real work, once again Kenma trailing behind. When they’re both sitting, Sugawara asks, “Do you want to look over your exam schedule together?” Kenma, fully settled into the just-go-along-with-whatever-the-hell-is-happening way of living in this world, agrees easily. He pulls up his schedule online, turning his laptop toward Sugawara.
Sugawara scans the screen. “Which ones are going to require the most time preparing for?”
Kenma shrugs up one shoulder. “Probably 451. Maybe 410 too.”
“Oh, it’s good that those are first, then! If you send me a screen capture of your exam line up, I’ll put together a study schedule!”
A tightness creeps into Kenma’s chest, crawling up his throat. Guilt and shame settling in his veins. Relying on others, asking for help, needing people – it’s not a natural state for Kenma. “Why do you do all of this?”
Sugawara is back to scribbling on his student’s work in a red pen. “Do what?”
“Help me.”
Sugawara looks up at him. “Because you’re my friend.” That answer knocks around in Kenma’s brain. Oh. He’s not sure what Sugawara reads on his face, but he continues. “I’m a teacher. I like helping people learn! And coming over to work with you helps me too! It makes sure I get my horrible horrible marking done! And gets me out of the apartment and away from that nuisance Sawamura Daichi.”
Kenma smiles at Sugawara then. He remembers how the captain and vice-captain of Karasuno used to look at each other in high school. He feels a small warmth inside that it worked out for them. “Thank you,” is the response Kenma settles on.
“It’s no problem, Kenma.” Sugawara’s voice is patient, kind. Kenma thinks this is probably how he sounds in the classroom. His students are very lucky. “It’s not a bad thing to have trouble with some of these things. Everyone’s brains are different. And yours being the way it is, is what makes you so good at the things you like!”
Kenma feels his cheeks heat up, emotion welling in his chest. If he were alone, he thinks he might cry. There are so many things that everyone else seemed to just be able to do that Kenma found hard. Starting on assignments, taking breaks from gaming to eat, remembering to buy groceries. He feels very thankful for Sugawara Koushi.
Kenma walks Sugawara to the door. “I know your subscribers are voting for the next game you play, but if I could have any sway in your decision, I think you should play more Dead by Daylight.”
Kenma smiles. “I’ll take it into account.”
“Oh!” Sugawara jumps. “I almost forgot! You and Kuroo have to come over for dinner! Daichi’s done with his piece for the JVA auction! It’s really beautiful. I’ll send pictures!”
He nods. “I’ll tell Kuro.”
Sugawara heads out. “See you next week!” Kenma waves as Sugawara retreats.
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“We’re heading to the restaurant soon – get ready,” Kuroo says, leaning into his streaming room.
Kenma swivels on his chair. “Let me finish up this cut first.”
Kuroo comes into the room to sit on the sofa at the side. “What gameplay is this one?”
“Dark Souls speed run.”
“That was a good stream. The chat was timing it, I think you didn’t blink for like 4 whole minutes at one point.”
“I was focused.”
“It was cute.”
“It wasn’t.”
Kuroo shrugs. “I’m a bit biased but it was. Everything you do is cute.”
Kenma frowns. “I don’t know.”
“Sorry, but it is.” Kuroo stands up, waits behind Kenma’s chair. “Can you finish later? We have to be out of the house in 10 minutes to be on time.”
“You just don’t want Akaashi to be there before us.”
“You know if it weren’t for Akaashi, Bokuto would be 40 minutes late to the wrong restaurant, so really he shouldn’t give us a hard time.”
Kenma hits save on his project. “Okay, okay. I’m done.” He swivels in this chair and puts his arms up.
“You are so high maintenance.” Kuroo easily picks him up and carries him to their bedroom.
“What do I need to wear?”
“Something nice.”
Kenma grumbles. “Why can’t we just get take out and eat it at Bokuto’s place?”
“Because we are celebrating.”
“But we’re celebrating me, so shouldn’t I get to have a say?”
Kuroo’s teasing expression turns to concern. “Do you really not want to go?”
Kenma thinks. He focuses on the twist in his stomach he sometimes gets when he thinks about leaving the house. There is a dull sort of tingle now, but not nearly to the level he usually feels. “It’s fine. I’m just complaining.”
Kuroo relaxes. He’s sitting on their bed waiting for Kenma to change. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
Kenma has his sweatshirt up and off when he turns around and walks to Kuroo. He stands in between Kuroo’s legs, Kuroo’s hands sitting on Kenma’s hips. His heart rate picks up, beating in his ears as he decides his next words. “I think I’ll deserve a reward later though.” His hands scratch at the nape of Kuroo’s neck. “For being so good.”
Kuroo leans forward and kisses Kenma on the hollow of his throat. “Kenma…” he whines as he pulls away. “If this is you trying to get me to call and cancel – it’s working.” Kuroo looks at him, completely serious.
It makes Kenma laugh. He wonders how it’s possible for this Kuroo to be so gone for him. “I think we can wait.” He bites his lip. Kuroo only has to wait a few more hours. Kenma’s been waiting 24 years. He turns around to go back to their dresser. Kuroo smacks him on the backside as he walks away.
He’s smirking now. “How are you so good at that?” Kuroo asks.
“Good at what?”
Kuroo shakes his head like he’s absolutely done with Kenma while also being completely smitten. He lets the question hang in the air. Kenma supposes it doesn’t really need an answer. Even if he can’t believe the implication of the exchange.
Kenma’s changed, his hair pulled back and braided to the side. “This okay?” He motions down to his attire. Kenma admits he can see the benefit of dressing up by the way Kuroo’s eyes rake down his body
“Absolutely.” Kuroo comes over and kisses him soundly. Kenma follows his mouth when he pulls back, urging Kuroo to exchange more kisses with him.
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
The restaurant is across town. Kuroo drives, which turns out to be a much more enjoyable experience than Kenma was anticipating. As Kuroo focuses on the road ahead of him, Kenma is free to watch him. How is this Kuroo so similar to the friend he remembers, when Kenma feels like life has drained a part of him in Kuroo’s absence?
Kuroo crosses his hands over one another as he makes a turn, and Kenma’s eyes settle on the biggest difference. Light reflects off the ring sitting snuggly on Kuroo’s left hand.
Them. In love. Married.
Kenma’s breathing comes faster as he sits with that fact.
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
“To the real reason we’re here tonight – Kenma’s ten millionth subscriber!”
“Cheers!” They clink their glasses together once again. Kenma’s face is flushed from the drinks. It feels like they’re celebrating every minor accomplishment with a drink now.
Kenma smiles at his friends. He doesn’t think he’s worth all the fuss, going out to a fancy dinner, the congratulations, the praise. He’s trying his best not to shrink at the compliments.
“I’m so proud of you, Kenma,” Bokuto wails at him. Whether its with sincere or exaggerated feeling, Kenma can’t tell.
“Thank you, Bokuto.”
“If you’re so proud, you can buy a few more seats to the JVA fundraiser,” Kuroo interrupts, and Kenma rolls his eyes.
“Are tables not sold out yet?” Akaashi asks.
“We’ve met our goal for attendance but we can squeeze in another 3 tables if we can sell the tickets.”
Bokuto’s face is pulled in concentration. “Is there anyone from MSBY that hasn’t bought tickets yet?”
“Not really.”
Bokuto groans. “I don’t know who else I would even get tickets for!”
“Would either of your sisters be interested in it?” Bokuto’s always an easy sell. “You’ve got nephews, maybe they’d want to come see some Olympic players.”
“You shouldn’t have said that,” Akaashi remarks right before Bokuto throws this head back and wails.
“Neither of them even like volleyball,” Bokuto complains. “All they talk about is baseball this, baseball that.”
“That’s rough, buddy.” Kuroo reaches out and pats Bokuto’s arm.
“Stupid baseball,” Bokuto mumbles. Akaashi leans over Bokuto, kisses him softly on the cheek. It placates him some.
Kuroo’s hand reaches under the table to rest on Kenma’s thigh. It distracts Kenma completely. Kenma’s mind glazes over, the voices of Kuroo and Bokuto mixing hazily into the background of his thoughts. Kuroo’s thumb moves along Kenma’s leg, like he’s not even aware of the effect he has on Kenma. Kenma tsks to himself. He probably isn’t. To his Kenma, this isn't anything special. His Kenma always gets Kuroo’s touch and attention. Is it normal to be jealous of himself?
Kenma has no idea how long he has here, how long he’ll get to bask in the warmth of Kuroo’s affection. He wants to take as much as he can, store it for when he’s back in his world. Let it keep him company there when he’s alone and cold and tired. He reaches down and curls his fingers around Kuroo’s hand. I want to keep him.
Kuroo must feel the change in Kenma’s demeanour. He leans over to Kenma, chin on Kenma’s shoulder, lips close to Kenma’s ear. “Hey.”
Kenma smiles. “Hi.” It’s then that Kenma notices that both Bokuto and Akaashi are putting on their jackets, money placed on the table. “Time to go?”
Kuroo chuckles. “Yes, daydreamer.” He kisses the side of Kenma’s head. “Come on.”
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
They get home, and Kenma swallows the fear clinging to his bones. “Tetsurou?” Kuroo looks over. They’re in their room. Kuroo turns on the small lamp on his bedside table. Kenma walks up to him, reaching to hold onto Kuroo’s button up shirt. He angles his head up, tugs on the shirt and kisses Kuroo with a desperation he hopes Kuroo understands.
Kuroo responds easily, large hands circling Kenma’s waist. Kenma licks at Kuroo’s lips which open for him, hungry for more contact. Wet and hot and not nearly enough.
They break apart, Kenma settling back to the flats of his feet. He looks up with big eyes, blinking at Kuroo, whose own pupils have dilated. He towers over Kenma and Kenma’s breath catches. It’s the first time he’s felt truly small next to Kuroo.
Kenma moves, pushing himself up the bed. Kuroo crawls after him. They fall into another kiss and Kenma takes the distraction to reach out and undo the buttons on Kuroo’s shirt. He hopes Kuroo doesn’t notice how his fingers shake. Kenma slides his hands against Kuroo’s skin under the fabric of his shirt, pushing it off of his shoulders. Kuroo sits back on his heels to fully remove his shirt.
Kenma’s heart is beating so wildly he feels like Kuroo must be able to feel it across the space between them, like it’s being carried through the air. Kuroo sits like a memory of Kenma’s high school secrets. “You’re really handsome,” he observes as Kuroo removes his belt, then his trousers.
Kuroo looks up at him, entirely pleased with himself. Kenma is sure he’s heard similar things from his Kenma hundreds of times at this point. Why he’s still so happy with Kenma’s approval, Kenma isn’t sure. Because he loves you, Kenma thinks, and quickly pushes it down. He doesn’t deserve it – this unearned love for a Kenma that’s not him.
Kuroo’s hands undo the buttons of Kenma’s shirt, quickly take off Kenma’s jeans and underwear. Kuroo leans down over him, the muscles in his core tensing as he holds himself above Kenma’s body. “What do you want tonight?” Kuroo’s voice is like melted candle wax, Kenma thinks he might burn.
“You.”
“You always have me.” Kuroo kisses down his throat, sucks at a spot under his jaw. “Tell me what to do for you.”
Kenma doesn’t know what to say. Everything he wants and everything he’s allowed is suddenly too much for him to parse through. “Touch me.” It’s the only statement he’s sure of. Kuroo leans and kisses him again, before moving to grab something from the drawer beside their bed. Kenma sees the lube resting on the comforter and shivers.
Kenma’s fingers twist into the fabric below him. He feels embarrassed at the level of need coursing through him – a small whine leaves his throat. Kuroo’s smirking now. “Excited tonight?” Kuroo taps on Kenma’s knee. “Open.” He settles himself in between Kenma’s legs. Kenma thinks he must be red down to his chest.
“Tet – Tetsu.”
Kuroo smooths a hand up and down Kenma’s thighs. “I’ve got you.” Kenma’s eyes are squeezed shut already, overwhelmed. He feels Kuroo’s fingers curl around his cock, slippery with lube. A deep moan leaves his throat as Kuroo begins to stroke. “You’re so beautiful like this.” Kuroo’s voice is too sincere, too full of awe. It curls itself in Kenma’s stomach.
Kenma reaches toward Kuroo’s underwear, fingers skimming the waist band. “You too.”
Kuroo’s hand continues to move up and down, too slow for Kenma’s body. “I want to watch you tonight.” Kenma’s breath stutters in his lungs. Kuroo’s hands fit perfectly around him, covering him so nicely with a familiarity Kenma craves. Large drops of precome bead at the tip; Kuroo swipes his thumb through it. “Look at you.”
Kenma continues to make breathy noises as Kuroo brings him closer and closer to the edge. “Tetsurou.” He cants his hips up, thrusts into Kuroo’s fist, giving Kuroo access to his backside. “Can you? Please.” He squirms, wanting so badly for Kuroo to fill him up. He feels empty, empty, empty. “Please.” he repeats, more desperate.
“Fuck, yeah.” Kuroo’s voice vibrates along Kenma’s skin. Kenma feels a wet digit circle his entrance. He’s already moaning by the time Kuroo pushes his first finger in. “You take it so well, Kenma.” Kuroo’s eyes are trained on Kenma’s backside. His large, pretty fingers push in and out of Kenma’s hole. Kenma clenches down on them. “Kenma.” Kuroo all but growls the word.
Kenma pulls Kuroo close, kisses him, open mouthed and wet. “Make me come, Tetsu,” Kenma demands. He wants it so much, feels so impossibly wound and almost there, a tightrope of need pulled taut in his core. Kuroo pushes deeper, fucks Kenma with his fist faster. His body tenses again and again as waves of euphoria pulse through him. The last spurts of come drip down Kuroo’s knuckles. Kenma’s head goes dizzy at the sight. Already wanting again, wishing his body would let him.
“You’re so fucking perfect.” Kuroo leans back down once Kenma is spent, kisses Kenma with renewed vigor. “So fucking hot.” He licks and sucks at Kenma’s mouth, Kenma’s neck.
“Now you, let me see you.” Kenma pushes on Kuroo’s shoulder. He reaches for a piece of clothing to wipe down his chest while Kuroo settles on his back. Kenma straddles one of Kuroo’s thighs. He pushes himself forward, rubbing Kuroo’s thigh along his crease as he watches.
“Fucking fuck.” Kuroo has one hand on Kenma’s hips. The other reaches into his briefs. Kenma pulls at the waist band until he can finally see Kuroo’s cock and balls. Kuroo’s leaking down his length already, making it shiny.
Kenma’s hand bumps up against Kuroo’s fist. “Let me.” Kuroo groans as Kenma takes over jerking him off. Kuroo’s fingers on Kenma’s side dig in, pulling tightly. Kenma watches every twitch of Kuroo’s muscles, finding what he wants, finding what he needs. Kuroo keeps moaning, sighing out little words of encouragement when Kenma does something he particularly likes. Kenma catalogues each sound, each twist in the sheets. He leans forward and sucks hard on Kuroo’s chest, marking him in deep reds. He feels Kuroo’s hips pump and stutter against his fist, continues to stroke through Kuroo’s orgasm.
Kenma leans back, drawing his now dirty hand up to his mouth. His tongue comes out to taste what’s there. “Kenma, you’re killing me,” Kuroo groans but he’s laughing now, high off of his orgasm. “Let’s go shower.”
Kenma pushes a finger fully into his mouth, sucking. “Okay.” It takes a while for them to make it to sleep that night.