Chapter Text
Tsukishima Kei had never been one for romanticism. Leaving anonymous notes in lockers or desks, hanging back after class to confess to a crush, selecting the perfect chocolates for someone on Valentine’s day, all that had never interested him. Tsukishima was a man of very basic satisfactions, easy to placate and very, very hard to please. He had never really found himself with more than a simple appreciation for someone’s appearance, nothing close to actually liking someone. Hell, the only person he could even stand to be around for long periods of time was Tadashi, and even that grew tiring.
That was why, when he went with an impulse, scrawled out his number in sloppy characters on a scrap paper and surreptitiously stuffed it into the bag he hoped was Kuroo’s, he felt the uncomfortable weight of every set of eyes in the gym on him.
In reality, the only one who had seen was Kenma, but to Tsukishima it could have been everyone in Miyagi. He found his breath sticking in his throat as the other boy approached him, eyes darting between the bag and the pen in Kei’s hand. He tilted his head, feline eyes searching Tsukishima’s face.
“That’s my bag.”
Shit.
“That wasn’t for you.” Smooth, Kei.
Kenma just stared at him, unsettling Tsukishima with how much he seemed to know without even saying five words. Kei just turned his nose up slightly, tried to quell the pounding of his heart in his throat and willed Kenma not to tell Kuroo. “I know.”
Tsukishima’s breath came in the form of a sigh, huge and weighty and full of every insecurity that had passed through his head in those few moments of silence. Kenma seemed to notice this, and pulled his scrutinizing gaze away from Tsukishima’s face. He padded over to his bag on silent feet, pulling the note from the pocket it had been shoved into. Kei thanked every god he had ever heard of that Kenma didn’t open it; instead he turned back to Tsukishima and mumbled a soft, “Kuroo?”
Tsukishima nodded, not quite trusting his voice, and Kenma turned back to the bags and put the note into the pocket of the duffel to the left of his own. Almost had it right.
Kenma walked away and their break was over, the sound of sneakers squeaking on the wood of the gym floor filling the air as both teams took their place on the court for the next practice match. Tsukishima felt the match rather than played it, letting his instincts take over his body and running on autopilot. Sure, he let a couple balls go wild, but he had enough skill ingrained to easily pass through the match unhindered. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say a word, probably figuring he was just a hair more uninterested than usual.
Tsukishima found himself on edge all throughout their next break, staring at Kuroo’s duffel bag with more concentration than he had ever displayed on the court. It was enough to tip off Yamaguchi, who instantly began fretting over Kei’s state of mind. Not that he noticed at all, though; he was too busy watching Kuroo look over the note with a raised eyebrow and his lips turned up into a smirk. Kuroo turned to Kenma and asked him a question Tsukishima couldn’t make out, but Kenma just shrugged his shoulders and took another swig of water. Tsukishima made a mental note to thank him later.
He forcibly tore his eyes away as Kuroo began to walk towards Karasuno, note still in hand and eyes scanning the team. He strolled up to Kageyama and held out the note, looking down at him. “This you?”
Kageyama shook his head and turned back to Hinata, disinterest plain on his face. Kuroo didn’t seem to lose any of his countenance, though, instead walking over to where Kei and Tadashi stood. He held up the note to Tsukishima, who mentally scrambled to find some way out of the situation. “What about you, glasses-kun? This your number?”
“No,” Kei replied, probably a little too fast and blunt to pass for truthful. Kuroo saw right through him, if the way his smirk grew was anything to go by. Yamaguchi remained ever oblivious, still trying to get Tsukishima to drink something.
“Shame,” Kuroo replied, pocketing the note. He started to stroll back towards the rest of his team, pausing only for a second to throw a passing comment back at Kei.
“Your ears are bright red, by the way.”
Fuck.
There was a note in Tsukishima’s bag at the end of practice, and as he unfolded it he wondered how Kuroo had slipped it in without being noticed. The first thing that caught his eye was just how neat the writing was, which seemed a little bit out of place given Kuroo’s personality. The second thing that caught his eye was the actual message written out, which had Kei fighting down his heart again.
I’ll be behind the gym after practice.
Tsukishima was so fucked.
He pulled his bag up onto his shoulder, hurrying to the locker rooms and stripping down as quickly as he could. He opted for running a wet washcloth over himself instead of showering, focusing on trying to dress and leave before anyone else. He was on his way out of the locker room just when Daichi and Sugawara were leading the rest of the team in, and he bolted before any of them could notice him.
He was four steps outside of the locker room when a shoulder bumped against his, and he looked over to see Kuroo beside him.
“You’re pretty slick, glasses-kun.”
“Don’t call me that,” Kei replied, feeling the tips of his ears flush again. He adjusted his stride to fall in beside Kuroo, walking just a bit closer to the other boy than he usually would.
“Ouch, you’re so cold. Don’t you have a heart, Tsukishima?”
“Obviously not,” he said, his face impassive but his tone light and teasing.
Tsukishima was having a hard time staying cool, his hands clenching into tight fists in his pockets and his steps just barely faltering every so often. This whole “crush” business was complete bullshit, he figured. He wanted no part of it.
“So,” Kuroo said, glancing sideways at Tsukishima. “Do you wanna hook up or something?”
Kei’s breath caught. “Now? Isn’t that a little forward?”
“Not now, stupid. Just sometime.”
Kei weighed his options, even though he knew there was only one thing he would ever pick. “Yeah,” he replied, “Whatever.”
It was then that they turned the corner, and the air was forced from Tsukishima’s lungs as Kuroo backed him into the wall and pressed their lips together. There was no hesitation, no chance for Tsukishima to steel himself before Kuroo’s tongue was swiping at his lower lip, demanding entrance. They kissed messily, teeth nipping at lips, and Tsukishima was dizzy by the time Kuroo pulled away.
“Your ride is leaving soon,” Kuroo said matter-of-factly, nodding in the general direction of the bus that Karasuno had arrived in.
“I should go.”
Kuroo nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. Almost as an afterthought, he leaned in and gave Tsukishima one last chaste peck on the lips. “I’ll text you.”
With a nod, Tsukishima readjusted his duffel bag and set off for the bus, heart pounding against his chest like a drum.