Archive of Our Own

When confronted with the task of describing Daichi, most people would resort to an answer along the lines of 'caring,' or 'compassionate,' both of which are undoubtedly applicable. Many would not see Daichi as the type to engage in things out of the ordinary, since Daichi is a pretty ordinary guy. That's not to say Daichi is boring, in fact he's anything but, it's just saying that Daichi has always found an unfamiliar, distasteful anxiety in stepping outside of his comfort zone and trying new things.

Like that one time in highschool when Suga took him out for sashimi on short notice. He'd tried both eel and octopus for the first time that day. He'd known about the eel, but the octopus had been a rather unwelcome surprise. He'd nearly puked everywhere, and Suga had learned a valuable lesson: never surprise Daichi.

Daichi has become even less adventurous in his college years; all of his friends are out partying and having shitloads of sex, and Daichi is somehow content with doing nothing but playing video games and jerking off in the small window of free time he has. It's a simple life, he likes to think, and there's not much about it that he would change. Suga walks over from his apartment near the neighboring university sometimes, and when he can't walk over they play games together on Xbox live instead of taking turns with Daichi's playstation. It's enough interaction to keep Daichi happy. He's never really been a party person anyway.

Suga sits on Daichi's bed, hovering over a biology textbook and occasionally writing something down in the notebook next to him. "I got invited to a party," Suga says, suddenly, and Daichi pauses the game he's playing.

"By who?" Daichi asks, turning around entirely. He knows that Suga doesn't have many college friends, so it must be one of those 'everyone on campus is invited' parties.

"You remember Kuroo, right? He's in my astronomy class, for some reason. He's at the top of the class. Who knew, right?" Suga clicks the pen and flips the page, writing something else down. "He's holding some kind of giant party at his parents' house, and he somehow remembered me, which is weird, y'know?"

"Are you going?" Daichi finds himself asking.

Suga nods. "He asked me to bring you, actually, but yeah, I'll tag along. It's on Friday night."

Daichi turns around again and unpauses the game. "Huh."

"Oikawa will be there," Suga says, and Daichi freezes.

There's always been something about Oikawa that scares the absolute shit out of Daichi, though he can't quite place his finger on what that something is. Their personalities clash in the most bizarre of ways, because they're certainly not the same, and they're definitely not different. Both of them have different ways of approaching the same problems, and they don't really get along. Kuroo is a different story: though outwardly intimidating, he's calmer and less terrifying once you get to know him, and he's actually not that bad of a guy.

"Really?" Daichi manages, attempting to focus on the game and process the fact that he'll have to talk to Oikawa again. "Does he go to your school, too?"

"No, he's at some place closer to the City. It's not too much of a hike, though," Suga says, writing down some more things in the notebook. "I hear he has a thing for Kuroo."

"Those two? No way," Daichi laughs. "You're shitting me. Kuroo wouldn't touch Oikawa with a ten-foot pole."

Suga looks up and clicks his pen. "Oh, no, they're not together, at least I don't think. Oikawa likes Kuroo, or something."

"Oh," Daichi mutters. He sinks further into the beanbag chair and pushes buttons aimlessly, already nervous about Friday.

—

Friday comes quicker than expected, and so does the art history quiz he wishes he'd studied for. Other than that, the day passes by in a blur. Before he knows it, Daichi is back in the beanbag chair in front of his TV, attempting to get through the last half of Bioshock: Infinite before Suga gets back and picks him up for the party.

He doesn't make it through the rest of the game; in fact, he just kind of sits there, contemplating what to wear to the party and whether it even matters or not. He's pretty sure it doesn't matter because he's met both Oikawa and Kuroo before, and it's not like he has some kind of first impression to make. In the end he settles for some red checkered flannel and a pair of faded jeans. It doesn't scream token 'I-got-dragged-here friend' as much as he'd anticipated.

Suga knocks twice, as he always does, and after he grabs a capri-sun from Daichi's fridge Daichi is whisked out the door and down several flights of stairs, only stopping when he's sitting in the passenger seat of Suga's car.

Suga turns up the radio. "You look nice," he says, absentmindedly fiddling with the dial. "You have that edgy look about you. It's a nice change from the tee-shirts and boxers."

"I like tee-shirts and boxers." Daichi shrugs and leans back.

Suga starts the car. "So do I, but at least it's not all I wear."

"I wear other stuff," Daichi points out, and Suga acknowledges him with a quiet "mhm."

Some song by The Beatles comes on the radio, and despite Daichi's inability to tolerate most Beatles' songs, he can't will himself to change the station: Suga's humming along, likely without realizing, and the radiance of his smile could challenge even that of the sun.

—

Kuroo's house is gigantic. It's strange that he would choose living in the dorms over this, at least that's what Suga had said, but Daichi supposes it's none of his business. Daichi has never really been to an actual college party before, but the stuffy atmosphere in the foyer of Kuroo's house is enough to give him a general idea of what's happening here. There are people everywhere, and if this really is Kuroo's parents' house, they must have planned on being out of town for the entire month: the sheer size of the house is definitely going to make cleaning up after all of these people an arduous task. There's music coming from somewhere downstairs.

Despite everything going on around them, Daichi's first instinct is to reach out and grab the sleeve of Suga's sweatshirt and ask, "Where's Kuroo?"

Suga has obviously done this before. He weaves in and out of the crowd with ease, even with Daichi holding on to his sleeve. Occasionally he'll say hello, and sometimes he'll wave, but he's mainly moving his feet in this untraceable pattern that Daichi can't follow with his eyes: carving a path for the both of them through the hot, stuffy room. They walk into the kitchen and there are less people here, but they're just as noisy. It's probably because they're the closest to the alcohol supply. "There's more booze downstairs," Suga explains. "That's where everyone is."

They round the corner and Daichi realizes he's still holding onto Suga's sleeve for dear life. He lets go. Someone walks out of the door at the end of the hallway and in the split second it takes for the guy to pass them, Daichi recognizes the streak of blonde and the copious amount of hair gel this guy had used this morning.

"Noya?" Daichi says, impulsively.

Noya turns around and his eyes widen immediately. It's hard to see in the dim light, but he's definitely smiling. "Daichi! And Suga, too, oh my god!" His face is all red, and it's clear he's been drinking, yet neither of them point this out. Noya pulls all of them into a tight hug. "How have both of you been? It's been so long, oh my god." He's a bit unsteady on his feet, Daichi notices, as Noya leans back against the opposite wall.

"We've been great!" Suga exclaims, and Daichi is taken aback by the sheer enthusiasm in his tone. "Things are a bit slow, but we've been good."

Noya seems disinterested. "Have you seen Asahi?" he slurs, suddenly.

Suga's face twists into an expression of confusion, and Daichi knows exactly why. Asahi hates people. "Asahi's here?"

"Yeah. I dragged him along. He ran off though, he's scared of parties or something like that." With that, he walks off in the opposite direction and almost slips trying to turn the corner into the kitchen.

Suga looks up at Daichi and nudges his shoulder. "Go find Kuroo. I'll try to find Asahi," He says, and before Daichi can protest, Suga is gone.

The music from downstairs increases in volume with every tentative step Daichi takes toward the door until he can feel the floorboards vibrating beneath his feet. He opens the door and is immediately met with a lot of things: a flight of stairs, an earful of some kind of obscure underground electronic music, and a distinct sweet smell that he can only guess is pot. The only source of light appears to be a bunch of flashing lights in the room below, so he descends the stairs slowly, because god knows the last thing he needs to do is fall down the stairs while completely sober.

Surprisingly enough, the first person he spots when he steps into the basement is Kuroo. He's hard to miss; he's in the most well-lit part of the entire basement. He's alone, thank god. Daichi tries his best to avoid people on his way over and takes the seat next to Kuroo, who appears to not notice him. Kuroo stares absentmindedly into the crowd and sits awkwardly on his barstool. Daichi nudges Kuroo's leg with his foot and that seems to knock him out of his daze, as he turns to look at Daichi.

"Sawamura," Kuroo says, smiling suddenly. "You made it." The dead look in his eyes has vanished entirely. "It's been a while."

The awkwardness in the air is tangible, and Daichi has no idea what to say. "It has. How have you been?" It feels strange because he's never really talked about anything other than volleyball with Kuroo. He doesn’t look much different, his hair is still a mess, sticking out every which way, and he still does the thing with his bangs that Daichi had always admired but would never have the guts to try on himself. He’s no less attractive, either, his eyes still hold their dangerous sheen and his eyebrows are still suspiciously well-kept.

"It's been okay. College is okay. It's not as exciting as high school." Kuroo looks bored. "What have you been up to?"

Daichi shrugs. "I haven't accomplished anything, really. I failed an art history quiz yesterday, I suppose."

Kuroo looks around the room a couple of times and then looks at Daichi again, who can't read his expression. "Have you seen Oikawa? He said he'd be here, but he hasn't shown. He won't respond to my texts, either." Kuroo turns his phone on and locks it again before muttering, "fuckin' asshole," which Daichi is pretty sure wasn't meant for his ears.

As if on cue, however, a rather enthusiastic Oikawa runs out of the crowd and wraps his arms around Daichi. He's drunk, there's really no denying that, and he absolutely reeks of the smell that's floating around the basement. "There he is," Daichi says, pointing at Oikawa's face which is currently buried in his shoulder.

"Dai-chan, I missed you," Oikawa says, and it's almost a fucking whine. "I can't kick Karasuno's ass anymore."

"Dai-chan," Kuroo stifles a laugh, covering his mouth. "God, Tooru, how much have you had to drink?"

Oikawa sticks out his tongue and doesn't reply. He rubs his face against Daichi's shoulder again, and Daichi has probably never looked more uncertain about anything in his life. Oikawa is certainly less terror-inducing off of the court than he is while he’s on the court, but Daichi has to stop himself from instinctively shying away from Oikawa’s touch nonetheless.

"Y're hot," Oikawa says, tongue still halfway out of his mouth. Classic confessional drunk, Daichi thinks, making a feeble attempt to peel Oikawa's arms off of his neck. Oikawa is hot and sticky and Daichi would like to be neither of those things.

Kuroo snorts. "Which one of us?"

Oikawa doesn't miss a beat. "Both of you."

Something in Daichi’s mind fogs over, and he almost feels dizzy. An odd kind of silence falls over the three of them and Daichi is quick to push the spinning in his head away and change the subject. "Let's play pool, or something."

"Pool," Kuroo says, like it's a word he's never heard before. "Yeah."

It takes 3 rounds of Oikawa deliberately sinking the cue ball for Daichi to realize that there's no way Oikawa is going to take this seriously, but in the meantime, it's fun to watch him make a fool of himself. He's good at pool, Daichi can tell, he's just not sober enough to do anything right. His fingers move with a sense of accuracy that comes with years of practice, or maybe it's a setter thing, because there's no way Oikawa would devote a great deal of time to something as obscure as pool. When he tries to put practice into action however, he's clumsy and uncoordinated. Daichi finds himself staring at Oikawa's hands. They look soft.

The fourth time Oikawa goes to sink the cue ball, Kuroo punches him in the arm. Daichi laughs, but immediately stops when Oikawa picks up the 8-ball.

"What are you doing?" Kuroo cocks an eyebrow. "Please tell me you're not going to throw that."

"You're so mean, Tetsu-chan," Oikawa says, and there's a look in his eyes that Daichi has never seen before and quickly decides he never wants to see again. Daichi realizes, almost painfully, that he's going to throw the 8-ball.

Kuroo ducks just in time, and the pool ball goes flying over his head, crashes into the bar counter behind him. "Jesus shit," Kuroo says, looking over at Oikawa, who's lost his balance and is now sprawled out on the floor. "You could've killed me," he whispers to Oikawa, careful not to attract any more attention. Oikawa nods sleepily. "You're so fucking drunk, Tooru."

"'m not that drunk," Oikawa says, and it's obvious he's far gone, intoxicated to the point where he doesn't even realize that he's drunk. His eyes are half closed and he mutters something into the floor.

"You need sleep," Kuroo says, and then turns to Daichi. "D'ya think you can carry him? He's like, 72, tops." Kuroo gestures to Oikawa. Daichi shrugs and supposes it's worth a shot.

Oikawa weighs practically nothing. By the time Daichi has him halfway up the basement stairs, he's out like a light, and when Daichi sets Oikawa down on Kuroo's bed, he looks like he's been sleeping for hours.

"He's prettier when he's sleeping," Kuroo says. "He talks too much, otherwise."

Daichi thinks Oikawa looks pretty either way, but he doesn't tell Kuroo that. "Are you two—" He begins, and Kuroo looks over at him. Daichi makes a motion with his index and middle fingers but Kuroo just raises an eyebrow. "A thing. Are you two a thing," Daichi says, nothing short of mildly embarrassed.

Kuroo shrugs. "Kind of?"

Daichi frowns and crosses his arms. "Kind of? What does that mean? You either are or you aren't."

Kuroo sits down on the floor and gives it a moment of thought. "We've had sex, if that's what you're asking. It's not much more than that."

Daichi sits down and leans against the bed. "Oh," is all he can manage, because now he's thinking about Oikawa, no, Oikawa and Kuroo, and a multiple-word response seems a bit far-fetched at the moment.

"Why?" Kuroo asks, pulling out his phone and touching the screen absentmindedly.

Daichi shrugs in a manner he can only hope is somewhat convincing. "I was just curious, is all."

Kuroo laughs. "You're a funny guy, Sawamura." Kuroo scrolls through something on his phone, and Daichi assumes he's lost interest in the conversation until his index finger hits the sleep button and Kuroo's gaze shifts upward. "I'm not an idiot." The look in Kuroo's eyes is strange, dark and almost predatory. Intimidating and inquisitorial all at the same time. "You've never even kissed anyone," Kuroo says, darkly, leaning forward.

Daichi shudders. "I have—" He begins, but stops himself mid-sentence, because he was completely and utterly shit-faced throughout the experience. Frankly, he's not entirely sure it even happened, but there's still a tiny possibility that Daichi might've kissed Suga on the front porch of Noya's house that one time during that one team party. Neither of them had really talked about it, and both of them had been drunk enough to forget the events of the night prior, and maybe it's a forced memory. Daichi has never known. This doesn't change the fact that he knows absolutely nothing about kissing.

"You've never kissed anyone," Kuroo repeats. "You're smart, single, a hot piece of ass, and you've never kissed anyone before."

Daichi chokes. "I'm sorry?"

"You've never kissed anyone before?"

"The one before that," Daichi says, exhaling sharply. "Fuck, you know what you said."

"You're a hot piece of ass, Sawamura, there's no shame in that." Daichi isn't drunk, but it sure as hell feels like he is. The way Kuroo says his name makes his brain go all fuzzy, and he's so goddamn confused because this isn't the first time he's felt like this tonight.

"You've got fucking issues," Daichi says, scooting further backward against the bed and further away from Kuroo.

"Do I?" Kuroo asks, and crawls toward Daichi, who gestures to Oikawa's sleeping mass atop the bed with a look he can only hope is one of, 'What the fuck are you thinking?'

"Are you drunk?" Daichi asks, trying and failing to go further backward. "Or are you just an idiot?"

"Just the second," Kuroo admits half-heartedly. "Are we doing this or not?"

Daichi thinks it appropriate to point out that he had never suggested such a thing in the first place, but Kuroo's mind is somehow in this perpetual 'full speed ahead' way of making decisions. After what five seconds Kuroo gives him to make up his mind he collects himself enough to form words. "I don't know what I'm doing," is what he admits, and Kuroo almost laughs.

For a moment, it looks like Kuroo is going to just let Daichi figure it out on his own, and there are many objections that Daichi has to this.

Kuroo sits back on his heels and stares at Daichi for a moment. "There's no right way to do it," Kuroo says, and he looks like he's thinking something over. "It's hard to fuck up."

“You’re telling this to same guy who burned instant ramen once,” Daichi points out, and suddenly Kuroo looks a bit concerned.

“Kissing is nothing like instant ramen,” Kuroo points out, and then scrunches up his eyebrows. “Well, actually—” Kuroo enters this state of deep thought for a few moments, and just when Daichi is about to say something, Kuroo shakes his head. “No. Nevermind. Kissing is nothing like instant ramen. Let’s hope instant ramen is the only thing you’re bad at.”

Daichi would like to think it’s spontaneous. He’d like to think there’s something special about how Kuroo is so enthusiastic, and maybe there is, but it feels like there wasn’t enough buildup. Daichi appreciates the kiss for what it is nonetheless. He’s definitely overthinking this, and it’s not like he can think of much else at the moment, but he can’t help but notice the slight hesitation in the way Kuroo reaches up to hold Daichi’s jaw between his thumb and forefinger. It’s alarmingly uncharacteristic; the last thing Daichi would expect Kuroo to be is gentle, but there’s his thumb, tracing the line of Daichi’s jaw and leaving fire in its wake.

Daichi has watched porn, and despite the internet’s relentless warnings about how bad of an example porn is for actual sexual encounters, Daichi’s gotten this strange sense of how to go about making out with someone. The internet is both a blessing and a curse.

He’s reluctant to move against Kuroo, and for a while they’re just stuck in this kind of limbo, Daichi wondering how the hell he’s gotten to this point while still sober, and Kuroo wondering how the hell he managed to talk himself into this. When Daichi does move, though, Kuroo reacts like some kind of bomb has been set off, kisses Daichi with more fervor and passion than Daichi could've possibly expected from someone like Kuroo. Daichi discovers a great deal of things in the next five minutes.

Kuroo is gentle. Maybe it’s only when he’s kissing. Maybe it’s only when he’s doing something he really, truly enjoys, because the way Kuroo’s lips move against Daichi’s makes Daichi never want to stop, makes him want to kiss Kuroo forever. It’s strangely wet, too, and not even in an awkward way. Kuroo licks into Daichi's mouth in a way that feels like it shouldn’t even be remotely sexual, but it is. The strange thing about all of this is that Daichi feels inclined to reciprocate the gesture, so he does, and he’s rewarded with a low, guttural groan and a bite to his lower lip that doesn't feel quite like a dissatisfied gesture.

Their lips fit together oddly well, and Daichi suddenly thinks he's overstepping a boundary by thinking so. Kuroo kisses him harder, deeper, then, tilting his head and gently slipping his fingers into Daichi's hair. Kuroo places his other hand on the back of Daichi's neck and his fingers are warm and soft, and Daichi takes the moment to really breathe Kuroo in. He smells like fresh laundry and cheap box-wine and faintly of whatever the basement had smelled like. Kuroo bites Daichi's lip again and this time Daichi bites back.

Kuroo pulls back, then, and Daichi has never seen anyone like this; hot and flushed and out of breath. There's a darkness in Kuroo's eyes that makes Daichi's heart skip a beat in his chest. "Holy shit," Kuroo says. His cheeks are a gratifying shade of red and his breath is ragged and broken. "Jesus, shit. You're good." His hair is all messed up; Daichi can see both of Kuroo's eyes, and there's something oddly satisfying about this fact.

"Please give me your number," Daichi says, shaking his head. "Jesus Christ."

Kuroo gives it to him without any kind of hesitation whatsoever. "I feel like I should let you know—Once Oikawa finds out about this, he's gonna want in."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Daichi asks, silently chastising himself for even hoping that it might mean what he thinks it means.

"It means Oikawa likes you, you fucking idiot," Kuroo says, sitting down on the carpet. His breathing has evened out, but he's still flushed pure red. "He's gonna want to fuck you." The words run off of Kuroo's tongue as if they're the most innocent in the world, and Kuroo makes everything sound oddly appropriate.

There’s something about this concept that makes Daichi oddly curious. He’s suddenly craving information regarding the true nature of Kuroo and Oikawa’s relationship, and whether or not it’s truly the casual affair their relationship had initially struck him as. Though all of this is pressing, insistent at the front of his mind, he finds himself oddly drawn to the concept of having sex with more than one person at once. It’s nothing foreign to him, it’s not like he’s never heard of something like a threesome before: it’s just that Daichi has always been one of those people whom, when confronted with the subject, blatantly deny the fact that if they were presented with such an opportunity, would turn it down. “Oh,” is all he says, with no small deal of uncertainty clouding his judgement.

“Is that not—” Kuroo pauses, clearly thinking something over. “Is that not okay? I mean— It is a little—” He’s struggling for words, and Daichi can tell that Kuroo is worried he’s crossed a line.

“It’s fine,” Daichi says quickly, making this sort of ‘it’s okay’ gesture with his hands that he makes when he doesn’t know exactly what to say. “Really. I’ve just never— uh—”

Kuroo laughs, a hearty laugh that makes Daichi’s chest do this flip-flop thing, and there’s no nervousness to Kuroo’s tone at all. “Who has?” Kuroo asks. “Jesus, who can honestly say they’ve been in a threesome before? I can’t. Maybe Oikawa can, but I certainly can’t.” He’s laughing faintly as he says this, and for a moment Daichi finds himself staring at Kuroo’s facial features: his cheekbones, his nose, there’s nothing about him that’s not attractive.

“You’re staring at me,” Kuroo points out. “Why?”

“You’re nice to look at, I guess,” Daichi answers truthfully. He doesn’t see the need to lie, if Kuroo already knows how he feels.

Daichi’s phone buzzes in his pocket then and he pulls it out, finding 3 missed calls and 2 texts from Suga.

Suga [12:15 AM]: i found asahi and we need to drive him home. noya too.

Suga [12:20 AM]: where are you????? :(

“Shit,” Daichi exclaims, readjusting his shirt and flattening the back of his hair. “My friend is waiting for me, I gotta go.”

“Oh. Alright,” Kuroo says, and it almost sounds like he’s disappointed, but not entirely. “See you around.”

“Yeah,” Daichi says, and then repeats the phrase to himself, but quieter. “See you around.”

—

Daichi has never realized how much he did not want to be stuck in a '96 Honda Civic with an excessively inebriate pair of college students who just happen to be in a relationship with each other for any amount of time over twenty minutes.

About halfway through the car ride back to Suga's place, Daichi takes off his shoe and throws it into the back seat. He's rewarded with a muffled squeak from Noya and some kind of displeased noise from Asahi. Daichi is trying not to think about which one of them is the horny drunk that started this whole 'Let's fuck in the backseat of my friend's car while aforementioned friend is still in the fucking car.'

Daichi somehow ends up being the one to carry Asahi up the stairs, because no matter how much maintenance the staff does, Suga refuses to take the elevator. Asahi is light for his size, though, so Daichi supposes it could be worse. He still wishes Suga could suck it up for once and carry Asahi sometime. This happens more often than he'd like, and he's been stuck on Asahi-duty since day one.

Once both Asahi and Noya have been dropped on their respective couches and every trash bin in Suga's apartment has been moved within a five-foot radius of both couches, Suga locks the apartment again and walks down to the car with Daichi.

"Did you find Kuroo?" Suga asks two minutes into the drive.

"Yeah," Daichi says. "Oikawa, too. They're a thing, apparently."

"Really?" Suga sounds surprised. "They didn't seem like the couple type."

"Oikawa found us after he got shit-faced. He threw a pool ball at Kuroo and I carried him up to Kuroo's room. It was wild." Daichi is remembering less and less about the events leading up to the kiss and more about the kiss itself. He can't get the taste of Kuroo off of his lips and he can't stop chasing the ghosts of Kuroo's fingers in his hair. Daichi runs his hand through the back of his hair and pulls but it's not the same at all.

Daichi's phone chimes in his pocket and he pulls it out. It's a text from Kuroo.

Kuroo [1:37 AM]: oikawa is sleeping and im bored

"I'm willing to bet you got a bit more than Kuroo Tetsurou's number," Suga says, and Daichi is tempted to punch him in the face.

Daichi replies with a subconscious "Hnk," and feebly texts Kuroo back with: sounds like a you problem.

"How was it?" Suga asks, sounding genuinely intrigued. When Daichi doesn't answer, however, Suga gives him the look.

Daichi has known 'the look' since before the two of them had begun playing volleyball in junior high together. 'The look' means, specifically, "Do the fucking thing immediately or I'm going to skin you alive." It's usually a volleyball thing.

Daichi sighs and buries his face in his hands, and he's somehow embarrassed. "It was—" he starts, but fumbles for the words and stops. "It was wet. Oddly wet. Like—kisses are supposed to be like that I think, but it was just—"

"You're actually serious," Suga says, clearly in disbelief. "You went to a college party, didn't even get trashed, and made out with Kuroo Tetsurou, of all people."

"Oikawa was there, too," Daichi throws in, and Suga almost chokes on his own saliva.

Suga whistles. "Jesus Christ. That's like—the holy trinity of highschool volleyball captains. Who knew, right?" He looks completely and utterly mind-blown.

"Oikawa was passed out on the bed," Daichi says. "He wasn't—uh—"

Suga's eyebrows shoot upward. "Oh."

Daichi laughs nervously. "It was just a kiss, really. It wasn't too special."

"Is he a good kisser?" Suga asks, like it's the most ordinary question in the world—Daichi supposes it could be much worse; Suga could have just asked him if Kuroo gave satisfactory blowjobs—yet the question still stands.

"It was kind of—Dizzying?" Daichi still hasn't quite processed the entire string of events after he started talking with Kuroo. "It was good, I guess. I've never actually kissed anyone before, so I can't really compare it to much."

Suga laughs and parks the car in the dorm building lot. "Dizzying is probably a good sign," he says, turning to Daichi. "Did you feel the thing, though? That's the real question."

"The thing?"

Suga shrugs. "The lifty feeling you get in your chest. You know, the thing."

"I suppose," Daichi says, dismissively, but only because he doesn't want to have to explain the potential extent of his feelings for Kuroo to Suga.

"You suppose?" Suga laughs and shoves Daichi's shoulder. "Go to sleep when you get to your room, no video games, you hear?"

Much to his own surprise, Daichi does not immediately begin playing video games when he gets back; he collapses, sprawled out on his bed. His shirt still smells faintly of Kuroo and he falls asleep with the fabric pressed to his lips.

—

Daichi wakes up with both a headache and a lack of pants. He downs two aspirin and wonders if anything in his fridge is safe for human consumption, since he's been living off of delivery Chinese, instant noodles, and pizza and hasn't had much time to buy any groceries, let alone empty his fridge. The milk is kind of scary, and so is the only other thing in the fridge: A bag of god-knows-how-old ham cold-cuts that not only smell a bit questionable, but are looking a bit greenish, as well. Daichi closes the fridge and decides to let his roommate deal with that whenever he decides to get back from wherever he's always running off to.

He calls the takeout place and orders some lo-mein, since lo-mein is definitely a socially acceptable breakfast. The takeout place is right across the street, and in theory, Daichi could walk to pick up his order if he really wanted, but he tells the place to deliver to his dorm, anyway.

It takes the food exactly 23 minutes to arrive, which is record time, Daichi notes. He doesn't even have time to boot up the playstation before the delivery guy is knocking on the door. He's not complaining, though.

When he opens the door, though, both parties are equally surprised. The delivery guy's hair is mussed all about, sticking up in every direction and only tamed by the ball cap on his head. His brown eyes are sunken and there are bags under his eyes and it looks like he hasn't slept in weeks. Despite this, his eyes widen and he smiles widely when Daichi opens the door.

"Dai-chan," Oikawa says, his voice hoarse and not quite as high-pitched as it had been the night prior. He holds out the plastic bag containing the takeout and Daichi hands him a twenty.

"How hungover are you, exactly?" Daichi asks, reaching up to press the back of his hand against Oikawa's forehead. He's warmer than he has any right to be.

Oikawa sighs and tucks the twenty into his pocket. "I'm so tired, Dai-chan," is what Oikawa gives Daichi instead of an answer.

"When does your shift end?" Daichi is worried now, and he doesn't know why, but he'd like to think it's instinct.

"Eleven," Oikawa murmurs, barely audible, and his eyes flutter open and closed. "Can I—" He stumbles and almost falls, but Daichi's hands are on him in an instant. "Can I stay?"

Daichi glances at the clock on the wall. 9:30. "Go finish your shift," is what he tells Oikawa. "Then come back here. I'll make you lunch."

"Lunch," Oikawa echoes. "Okay, Dai-chan."

Oikawa leaves without another word, leaving Daichi standing in the doorway with ten cents, a bag of takeout, and a fuzzy feeling in his limbs.

Daichi closes the door and walks back to the kitchen, where he proceeds to sit down on the counter and eat his takeout straight out of the container. He unlocks his phone and texts Kuroo.

Me [9:37]: did you know that Oikawa works for the delivery place on my street

The tingling in his legs doesn't go away. There's also a nervous feeling in his chest that he can't quite peg as anticipation. He doesn't know what it is. It wasn't there before Oikawa showed up, though. His phone chimes insistently from where it sits on the counter, and Daichi picks it up.

Kuroo [9:39]: wait are you forreal i didnt even kno he had a job :O

Me [9:39] : yeah man I just ordered chinese and he showed up. he looked faded as hell tho lmao

Kuroo [9:40]: LOL he was gone when i woke up and i’m guessing hes still p hungover but i admire his willpower like jfc how the fuck did he manage to get himself out of bed

Daichi leans back and shoves another forkful of noodles into his mouth. This Chinese is probably the best in the area, and it’s mediocre, really, nothing compared to the heaven that was the takeout place a few blocks from Karasuno. He decides that it is pretty admirable; the fact that Oikawa, of all people, was able to peel himself out of bed while incredibly hungover and somehow get himself to work is an achievement in its own, and an impressive one, at that.

Me [9:41]: i’m impressed actually lol

Kuroo [9:41]: same tbh what a shocker :)

Daichi has to stifle a laugh at that. He jumps off of the counter, ignoring the tight feeling in his chest, and hops into the beanbag chair in front of his TV. He doesn’t know what to play so he just sits there mindlessly eating his box of mediocre Chinese takeout. He settles for some two star movie on Netflix and somehow finishes his takeout in the next hour. He sits there for a good twenty minutes messing around on his phone and almost goes to take a nap when there’s a loud bang from his kitchen that sounds suspiciously like the collision of someone’s entire body and the floor.

Daichi checks his phone and finds that it’s 11:30, a perfectly sensible time for Oikawa to be off of work, and he suddenly wonders if he forgot to lock the door. Sure enough, when he walks into the foyer, the door is wide open, and he wonders how in the hell he managed to forget.

And there Oikawa is, sprawled out on the kitchen floor, still in his uniform and sans baseball cap. He’s fast asleep—he didn't even take his shoes off, damn him. Daichi takes off Oikawa’s shoes and throws them in the general direction of the door, not really concerned with where they land. He picks Oikawa up and carries him to his bed, setting him down and throwing a blanket on top of him.

Oikawa is pretty. Daichi doesn’t know how else to put it. Oikawa’s perfection is the kind that he can’t exactly put into words: the kind that renders one unable to describe the simplest of things. There’s nothing unattractive about him whatsoever. Kuroo was wrong when he said that Oikawa is prettier when he sleeps, but he wasn’t right, either, Oikawa is unconventionally attractive either way, strangely beautiful in a way that is just as hard to understand as it is to give a name. Daichi starts to feel a bit creepy, just staring at Oikawa, so he ventures into the kitchen and decides to go about making some kind of lunch, since he’d promised Oikawa that he’d make lunch.

Daichi settles for a box of macaroni and cheese that he finds at the back of his cupboard. While the water is boiling he just kind of sits there and rolls over his current predicament in his mind, still somewhat incapable of processing the events of the past 12 hours. He knows that he’s grown more fond of Kuroo than he has any right to, and he knows that he’s as equally fond of Oikawa, though he’s not sure why in the slightest. He doesn't know if it's even possible to like two people at the same time and find them equally attractive, but Daichi is pretty sure that's a thing that's happening.

It's ironic that he'd promised himself that he wouldn't get drunk at the party and he'd left in a kind of daze anyway: not exactly drunkenness, but a lesser stable state of mind nonetheless. He doesn't know if that really counts.

Daichi soon finds himself with a pot of macaroni and cheese that is far too large for one person to consume alone. Daichi figures he should get a job sometime instead of living off of the money he’d earned in high school from his minimum-wage fast food job, but he’s just never had the time to whip up a resume and go places. He can live as long as his budget covers macaroni and cheese and various frozen vegetables. He walks back into the bedroom with the pot of macaroni and a giant wooden spoon and sits down on the floor. Daichi has always been one to make rather valiant efforts to abstain from things such as boredom eating, but sometimes mindless urges win him over in these situations.

Oikawa stirs and makes this noncommittal groaning noise, curling and uncurling his fingers into fists. He yawns, and it’s oddly cute, for lack of any better word. Daichi has never really met anyone as aesthetically flawless as Oikawa; he’s never met anyone who’s so effortlessly attractive. Oikawa has one of the strangest personalities he’s ever had to process. Daichi doesn’t know why he suddenly likes Oikawa. He doesn’t understand his motives behind whatever feelings he's harboring for both Oikawa and Kuroo. Love is a strange emotion, he supposes.

“Dai-chan,” Oikawa groans, and he drops a few pillows in his efforts to get up. His eyes immediately fall upon the pot of macaroni and cheese in Daichi’s hands. “You made lunch.”

"Yeah," Daichi says, offering the pot to Oikawa. "Mac and cheese."

Oikawa's face lights up, and it's startling, almost, the way he goes from groggy and dazed to fully awake in a bit less than a second. Daichi holds the pot further out, but Oikawa doesn't reach for it, in fact Daichi is pretty sure Oikawa is moving backward on the mattress and pressing his back against the wall. "I'm tired," Oikawa says, and it doesn't really sound like a declaration: it's more of a childish whine than anything else. Daichi swallows.

"Are you even real?" Daichi laughs and sets the pot down on the floor. There is no fucking way he's about to spoonfeed Oikawa goddamn Tooru macaroni and cheese. There's no fucking way.

A dark sort of look falls over Oikawa's face. "Are you?" He leans forward on his elbows and stares at Daichi with narrowed eyes. "Are you and Kuroo a thing now?"

Daichi's mouth is suddenly very, very dry. "How do you know about that?"

Oikawa laughs. "Tetsu-chan tells me everything."

Daichi suddenly finds himself wondering what exactly 'everything' entails, but he doesn't have time because Oikawa is patting the mattress next to him and glancing at Daichi expectantly.

"You've got to be kidding me," Daichi says and then it hits him that Oikawa is serious. "Jesus fucking Christ."

It's at a time like this when Daichi really questions what the fuck he's doing with his life. Oikawa is absolutely smug, giddy with the satisfaction that he's made Daichi do something he otherwise wouldn't think twice about passing up.

"You're weird," Daichi tells him.

"You think I'm attractive," Oikawa counters around a mouthful of macaroni.

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

Oikawa scoffs. "Oh, fuck you. At least your mac and cheese is tolerable." Daichi glares at Oikawa and instead of giving Oikawa the last spoonful of macaroni, he eats it himself without breaking eye contact. Oikawa sticks out his tongue. "What a jerk," he says.

"Yours truly," Daichi says, and hops off of the bed. He throws the pot in the sink and grabs a bottle of tea from the fridge. Oikawa is sprawled out on the bed when he returns, so he sits down on the edge of the mattress. Daichi opens the tea and sits on the bed for a while, taking swigs off and on before Oikawa turns over on his back.

"Why did you kiss Tetsu-chan?" There's an innocent air about his question.

"I didn't kiss Kuroo," Daichi says. "Kuroo kissed me."

"Why?" Oikawa asks.

Daichi cocks an eyebrow and turns around. "Are you five years old?"

"Why?" Oikawa looks genuinely confused, but maybe he's just a good actor.

"Jesus Christ," Daichi groans and pulls his feet up onto the bed. He turns around, and in one swift motion, moves to straddle Oikawa's hips. "You wanna kiss me yourself?"

Oikawa's lips curl into a wry smile and he nods rather enthusiastically. He grabs the collar of Daichi's shirt and pulls him down so they're face-to-face and Daichi can feel the soft tickle of Oikawa's breath on his lips.

"Kiss me, then," Oikawa says.

Daichi does. Oikawa's lips are oddly soft, oddly pliant, and wet in a way that is not unlike the nature of Kuroo's. Oikawa however, unlike Kuroo, is gentle. His tongue presses into Daichi's mouth and against what feels like every place at once, and Daichi's mind does the fuzzy thing again. Oikawa whines, and the sound arouses Daichi more than he'd care to admit. Oikawa doesn't thread his fingers in Daichi's hair. He's more...direct, so to speak, running his fingers along the hem of Daichi's shirt and slipping his hands underneath. His fingers are freezing and Daichi inhales sharply, but Oikawa doesn't let him go; He shoves his tongue deeper into Daichi's mouth, swallowing the small noise of half-hearted protest Daichi lets out. Oikawa digs his nails into Daichi's back and then he's shifting on the bed, doing something with his legs and then—oh.

Oikawa presses his thigh into Daichi's crotch, pulls away and exhales. He smiles. "Fuck," He says, out of breath and flustered and still oddly perfect, "You're hard."

Daichi realizes that he may or may not have a thing for blunt, choppy sentences. He may or may not have a thing for the way Oikawa makes something dirty sound even worse. He knows he definitely has a thing for how Oikawa presses his thigh upward harder. In the grand scope of things, he's probably got some priority issues, since he's made out with two guys he barely knows and hasn't really seen since highschool all in about fourteen hours. Despite this, when Oikawa pulls Daichi down to kiss him again, it feels like he can read everything in Daichi's mind: what he likes, how he likes things done, everything. It feels like he should say something, anything, but his brain won't make words and all Daichi can will himself to produce is an out of breath, raspy, "S-Shit—"

"Yeah?" Oikawa whispers, breath heavy in Daichi's ear, "What is it? What do you want, Dai-chan?" There it is again, that childish honorific that makes his name sound deliciously filthy spilling from Oikawa's lips. How a hangover and macaroni and cheese turned into this, Daichi will never really know.

Fueled by nothing more than sheer desperation, Daichi grabs Oikawa's wrist and shoves his hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. To his surprise, Oikawa isn't fazed at all, in fact, he seems more than pleased to finally have his hand on Daichi's cock. He looks mad with power, Daichi thinks, and the mere thought sends a shiver down his spine.

"Nice," Oikawa breathes, and he sounds as obnoxious as he probably intends. He looks just as enthusiastic about this as Daichi feels.

Oikawa isn't like other people he's heard about, apparently. He doesn't like to tease. If he does, he has some serious willpower going for him, since Daichi doesn't even have to ask him for more; Oikawa grinds the heel of his hand into Daichi's crotch and the satisfaction is more than anything Daichi could've ever asked for. “You’re so responsive, god,” Oikawa mutters, clearly reveling in his newfound power: this ability to reduce Daichi to a writhing, squirmy mess even when Daichi is the one on top here.

“I’d like to think you’d make a good power bottom,” Oikawa says, suddenly stopping the movement of his hand entirely.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Daichi frowns.

Oikawa laughs, and it’s the first time Daichi has really seen him laugh like this, eyes closed and mouth open in a wide smile. He wouldn’t be exaggerating if he were to say that it’s one of the nicest things he’s ever seen. Oikawa notices Daichi staring and stops laughing. “What?”

Daichi shakes his head and shivers.

“You’re looking at me like that,” Oikawa says. “Why are you doing that?”

“Like what?” Daichi asks, just to be an asshat. He knows how he’s looking at Oikawa, though he’s unaware of the lasting effect this may have on his chances of getting off any time in the near future.

“Like you’re fucking smitten with me, or something,” Oikawa says, and his tone is more of surprise than anything else.

"What if I am?"

Oikawa sits straight up, then, and Daichi leans backward, suddenly afraid he's said something terribly wrong. Oikawa's nose is almost touching Daichi's, and their eyes are locked in that kind of way in which it's impossible to look anywhere else.

"Holy shit," Oikawa says, and it's almost a laugh. "You're serious, holy shit." His eyes go wide and for a moment Daichi is worried he's fucked it up, worried he's gone too far and scared Oikawa off, but then Oikawa grabs the hem of Daichi's shirt and yanks it upward, and Daichi lifts his arms so Oikawa can pull it off the rest of the way.

Oikawa grabs Daichi's arms and flips him onto his back, climbing on top of Daichi's hips and perching there like he's on a goddamn throne. And then they're kissing again; Oikawa's hands are inching downward at an awfully slow pace until Daichi musters up enough courage to tug at the waistband of his own sweatpants. Oikawa freezes in place and smiles with sudden realization. "What do you want me to do?" He asks, running his thumb along the expanse of Daichi's chest.

Daichi would like to think Oikawa pulls some kind of confidence out of him, but there's a certain degree of vulgarity that he's not sure he'll ever be ready for, no matter how much courage he works up. He wants to tell Oikawa exactly what he wants. He wants to tell Oikawa to hurry, to abandon any kind of patience and fucking wreck him, but he's embarrassed, current situation aside.

"Tell me, Dai-chan," Oikawa almost hums. The surprise has vanished from his voice, replaced with a kind of mischievousness that makes Daichi somewhat nervous.

And then Daichi says it, and he doesn't really remember saying it, at least not to the degree that he'd like. Oikawa's eyes widen, so he knows he's said something, he's just hopelessly unaware of what until Oikawa kisses a line down his jaw, breathing heavy and Daichi can swear he hears a faint murmur of, "Holy shit."

Oikawa is skilled with his tongue, to say the least, and there's really no way in hell he's never done something like this before. Actually, Daichi knows for a fact that Oikawa has done this before, because that's what Kuroo had said, wasn't it? The thought strikes him in an odd way, and he's suddenly remembering Kuroo's hands in his hair and the feeling of Kuroo's teeth on his lips and the thought of both of these things in combination with Oikawa's lips on his skin is almost too much. He's so caught up in his thoughts that when Oikawa takes Daichi's right nipple between his teeth. Daichi yelps, powerless and quickly losing any resolve to hide just how he's feeling.

Oikawa doesn't bite. Kuroo bites. Oikawa nibbles. Daichi doesn't know which he prefers, at least not at the moment, because he doesn't have a vast amount of experience with something like this. The intimacy factor in Oikawa's kisses is something Daichi has yet to have experienced, and it's arousing in a way that jolting pain is not. (This is not to say that Daichi finds no pleasure whatsoever in physical pain, it's simply saying that Daichi prefers one practice over another.) A familiar white noise begins to ebb at the edges of Daichi's consciousness, and he knows he won't last long like this: with Oikawa's mouth on him and Oikawa's thigh back between his legs, and if Daichi moves just right he can feel that Oikawa is hard, too.

Oikawa kisses lower, agonizingly slow, and Daichi wholeheartedly believes that if Oikawa asked him to do something irrational and and horribly embarrassing right now, he'd do it. Daichi feels ambitious and pushy as he moves his hands to rest on the top of Oikawa's head. Oikawa looks up at Daichi, then, and the glazed-over, blown out state of his eyes is enough to send a shiver through Daichi. Oikawa moves lower still, and he looks like he's enjoying Daichi's fingers in his hair, like he's enjoying his loss of control. Daichi tightens his grip on Oikawa's hair as Oikawa presses his tongue onto his skin harder: breathes in like he can't get enough of whatever it is about Daichi that he seems to be completely and utterly addicted to.

There's only so much Daichi can take, and before his brain can catch up to the movement of his hands his pants are already halfway down his hips and Oikawa's thumbs are pressing insistently against Daichi's hipbones. Oikawa looks up at Daichi and smiles. "I bet you taste nice," he whispers, expression unchanging and unfazed by the obscenity of what he's just said.

Daichi goes every shade of red at at that. "God, Kuroo was right," Daichi laughs and twirls a lock of Oikawa's hair on his finger. "You really are the most obnoxious person I've ever met." By the time he's done, Oikawa is on the move again, fingers pulling at the hem of Daichi's boxers and yanking them down altogether.

Daichi doesn't have time to register any kind of embarrassment, because Oikawa's mouth is suddenly on his dick, and there is no fucking way he's an amateur. He's pretty and annoying and sexually adept and Daichi still doesn't know what exactly to do with his hands. He buries them in Oikawa's hair, and despite his reluctance to do so, he pushes down.

If he weren't so close to orgasm Daichi would be fucking appalled. Oikawa doesn't choke. It's intense: dizzying, more so than anything he's experienced in his life, and when Oikawa swallows around his cock, Daichi loses it. Somewhere along the line, Daichi realizes that Oikawa has probably done this to Kuroo, too.

Oikawa is something akin to a sex god. Daichi is reduced to nothing more than a whiny, fidgety mess beneath Oikawa's lips, and he bites his lower lip hard enough to draw blood when Oikawa pulls off briefly. He's back at it within a second, though, taking Daichi in like he's nothing.

"Jesus, shit, that's—really—” Daichi doesn’t finish his sentence. Oikawa takes Daichi in again, but this time he closes his jaw just enough: allows his teeth to graze the underside of Daichi’s cock, and then it’s all over.

Daichi doesn’t know what he says. Hell, he barely remembers what he does. He yells, screams. He knows that much, but the white noise in his head is overpowering everything else, blocking out what little hearing he has left. Daichi writhes, balling up the sheets in his fists and canting his hips forward, but Oikawa still doesn’t choke. He doesn’t fucking choke.

Daichi gives in, releases his iron grip on the sheets, and passes out.

—

Daichi wakes up in a pile of warm blankets. It takes him a moment to remember what even happened, and when he does, it’s almost a shock. It comes back slowly; the macaroni and cheese, the blowjob, it’s there, and there’s no part of Daichi that really regrets any of it.

He turns over and is somewhat surprised to find that Oikawa is sitting in the beanbag chair watching something on netflix with a box of takeout in his arms. It’s probably the four-week old box of takeout that was in his fridge. Daichi doesn’t tell Oikawa, he just sits there and watches. Oikawa is many things. A sex god and an iron-stomach-blessed individual are only two of these things. Daichi has had enough brain cells left to know that the takeout in the back of the fridge is probably closer to being some kind of toxic waste than it is to being edible, but there's Oikawa fucking Tooru, eating the stuff by the forkful, right out of the container. Incredible.

"You're awake, finally." Oikawa Tooru is also very observant. "Took you long enough, Dai-chan."

Just to piss Oikawa off, Daichi makes a little hand motion to the container of takeout in the setter's hands. "That's four weeks old."

Oikawa is unfazed as he nods. "I know."

Of the many things that Oikawa Tooru is, human may not be on the list. "Does that takeout not—does it taste fine?"

Oikawa shoves another forkful in his mouth almost in response to Daichi's question and shrugs. "I 'spose."

Unbelievable. Daichi worries for the sanctity of Oikawa's stomach. Oikawa sets the takeout container, now empty, on the floor next to him.

"You're a virgin," Oikawa says suddenly. He's sure of himself and the statement catches Daichi off-guard.

"Am I?" Daichi asks, trying to keep it together.

Oikawa turns around, now directly facing Daichi, and smiles. "You are. You're inexperienced, and I'm willing to bet that what just happened was the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced."

"And what if it was?"

Oikawa grins. "Then I'd like to consider that a hefty accomplishment, Dai-chan."

Daichi's phone buzzes.

Kuroo [1:34]: you and tooru, huh? ;)

Daichi finds it somewhat easier than expected to believe that Kuroo is a winky-face-emoji kind of guy.

Me [1:35]: how did u kno

Kuroo [1:35]: he texted me lol sounds like it went well ;))))

Me [1:36]: ya it was wild

Daichi pockets his phone and gets up off of the bed. "You told Kuroo?" Daichi still isn't sure about the whole threesome thing.

Oikawa doesn't take his eyes off of the TV. "We tell each other everything."

"Everything?" Daichi thinks he has an idea how far everything goes. Like telling each other who they just had sex with. That kind of everything.

"Ya," Oikawa mutters, and smiles coyly. "I told him how good you looked."

Daichi gives that a moment of pause, lets the words hang in the air between them for a moment. “Oh,” is all he says.

Oikawa curls up in the beanbag chair and Daichi wills himself to actually get up and cross the room. He sits down next to Oikawa and realizes that Oikawa is watching Breaking bad with some kind of intense fixation. Daichi has long since fallen behind. He got stuck on season 2, or something.

Oikawa grabs Daichi’s arm and pulls him in so he’s leaning against the beanbag chair. “We should have sex.”

Daichi isn’t opposed to this idea at all. In fact, he’s almost certain he knows exactly what Oikawa is asking; it’s the same thing that Kuroo had asked him, and he’s all for it, really. Instead of outing himself as somewhat perceptive, he responds with, "Now?"

Oikawa shakes his head and sits up. "No, I mean, like, with Kuroo, too."

Daichi thinks that other than the blowjob, that's the best idea Oikawa has had all day, and it's nice to finally have some confirmation. "I don't know how that's supposed to work. But okay."

Oikawa snorts and bursts into a fit of laughter. Daichi doesn't see what's so funny. Oikawa clutches his stomach like he's in pain, and he's laughing so hard his face is starting to go red.

"There are lots of ways, Dai-chan," Oikawa says, out of breath and flustered. It's a good look for him, Daichi finds himself thinking. "We should all go on a date."

"If it's all three of us, it doesn't really count as a date," Daichi says.

"Sure it does," Oikawa counters. "If we're all dating and we go out to dinner, then it's technically a date."

"I thought just you and Kuroo were dating." Now Daichi really is confused. The concept of this is foreign to him, and though not unwelcome, he's having trouble following exactly what Oikawa might be implying here. He's more focused on Oikawa than what Oikawa is saying: focused on the way Oikawa's lips move when he speaks, how his hair sticks up in every direction known to man.

"We've always been missing something," Oikawa says, staring at the ceiling. "We're willing to see if you're that something, I guess."

Oikawa leaves Daichi with three things: A date, a time, and a hickey. The first two are an accident. The third is not.

—

Daichi spends the week preoccupied. He’s preoccupied with the date, mostly, but homework is a thing, too, and it’s unfortunately something that refuses to be ignored. The date is on Friday, and they're going back to Kuroo's house afterward to play video games. Oikawa had explained that if Daichi didn't want to take it further than video games then they'd lay off and wait.

Contrary to initial thought, Daichi is completely okay with anything that might happen post-date. He finds himself wondering if he is that missing third piece in the Oikawa-Kuroo puzzle. He wonders if he fits, unadventurous and cautious somewhere between Kuroo's passive-aggressive mannerisms and Oikawa's no-filter way of speaking. Everything foreign is suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. Perhaps that's what Oikawa brings out in Daichi: the desire to do what he's never done before, to step further outside of his comfort zone than he normally would. Regardless of the origin of such desires, they're there nonetheless.

Daichi actually studies for the weekly art history quiz this time. He can't pinpoint exactly when Suga figured out that he wasn't going out for dinner with just Kuroo. Suga pops the question over day-old pizza and a round of counter strike Thursday night with a simple declaration of, "It's not just Kuroo." Daichi wonders how he knows, but then realizes that Suga picks up on most things with this kind of unsettling ease.

"How do you figure?" Daichi asks, shoving the rest of his slice of pizza into his mouth.

"It's kind of obvious, you know," Suga says. "If he and Oikawa are really dating. I mean, it would make sense."

Daichi shrugs. “What the hell,” he says. “It’s like you can read my mind.”

Suga laughs and offers a soft smile. “If only it were that easy.”

Suga punches Daichi in the arm, because despite the fact that he’s in a conversation, Daichi’s team still manages to emerge victorious from the round.

—

Friday arrives, as it always does. Daichi wakes up in a disheveled mass of blankets and pillows and the morning is no different than usual. The cereal in the cupboard is stale, the bathroom wallpaper is still peeling next to the mirror, and the carpet still needs to be vacuumed. Daichi doesn't know whether or not he'll get around to that before his roommate does.

Daichi is anxious all day. Nothing seems amiss, really, there are still patches of ice all over campus and it’s still nearly sub-zero. He tries not to let his mind wander, but every ten minutes or so he’s reminded that holy shit I might be dating two people at once and something in his chest seizes rather uncomfortably, because what if he fucks up? What if he does something wrong, says something weird, and both Kuroo and Oikawa lose interest?

He shows up to the noodle place thirty minutes early and a nervous wreck. He’s changed his outfit at least five times, working toward a noteworthy first impression that has already occurred. Oikawa and Kuroo walk in five minutes after 6:00, which is expected, (neither of them seemed like the ‘I’m always everywhere on time’ type) and quickly locate Daichi.

Both of them look like they just rolled out of bed and threw sweatshirts on. Daichi doesn’t know if he’s relieved upon noticing this or if he’s worried. Kuroo is wearing at least three sweatshirts and Oikawa clearly has Kuroo beat in terms of sweatshirts. Oikawa is also wearing a hat. It’s black, but there’s some kind of embroidered symbol on the edge. From where Daichi is sitting, it looks like an egg. When Oikawa sits down across from Daichi, he's able to see that yes, that is indeed an embroidered egg on Oikawa's hat. Kuroo's hair lacks its usual volume and Daichi can tell he has yet to completely wake up. The two had clearly just crawled out of bed.

Daichi orders lo-mein, Oikawa orders something obnoxiously spicy that he's going to regret later. Kuroo orders soup. They eat slowly, and Kuroo does most of the talking, asking how Daichi's day went and how Oikawa's day went. Daichi's response is brief, and Oikawa's response covers everything from how much milk he put in his cereal to what brand of underwear he decided to wear today. The conversation is fluid, and a kind of familiarity begins to set in, creating the illusion that they've known each other for years.

Suga [6:17 pm]: you can do it!!!!1 :)

Daichi smiles involuntarily, which captures Kuroo’s attention, but Kuroo doesn’t say anything. Oikawa is too busy crying over his spicy noodles to notice.

Oikawa sniffles and looks up from the bowl. “These noodles are too spicy,” he whines, wiping his nose off on his sleeve. Kuroo cringes.

“Here, switch,” Daichi offers, pushing the bowl of what remains of his lo-mein into the center of the table. Oikawa slides the bowl of spicy noodles over to Daichi, who takes it like some kind of dangerous weapon. The noodles look spicy, and they smell spicy, too, and the entire aura the bowl gives off is something awful in itself.

Oikawa immediately digs in, and it’s clear that he’s immediately relieved to be consuming something that isn’t destroying his tastebuds. Daichi takes one bite of the spicy noodles and it’s all over; his eyes start watering, his tongue burns, and he wonders how the fuck Oikawa had managed to eat more than half of the bowl. “Jesus, fuck,” Daichi whispers, setting down his chopsticks and pushing the bowl to the center of the table again. “No fucking way,” he says.

Kuroo takes the bowl from the center of the table and grabs Daichi’s chopsticks. “Lemme see this.” He shoves a bunch of noodles into his mouth with this sort of unrivaled confidence.

“Kuroo, that is some shit,” Daichi warns, but Kuroo is unstoppable. He chews through the noodles like they’re nothing. Oikawa stops devouring the lo-mein and Daichi just sits there, as equally in awe as Oikawa is.

Kuroo ends up eating the entire remainder of the bowl. Oikawa and Daichi are experiencing something that's a tier above disbelief.

"Are you even real?" Oikawa asks, podding Kuroo's cheek with his index finger. "How is your mouth not on fire? Are you an alien, Tetsu-chan?"

Kuroo shakes his head and laughs, setting his chopsticks down across the top of the bowl. "I can confirm that I am not an alien, Oikawa."

If Oikawa isn't convinced, he doesn't say so. Oikawa finishes off what remains of the lo-mein. "My mouth is still burning," he groans, folding his arms and placing them on the table. He puts his head in his arms.

Kuroo picks up his cup of tea and points to Oikawa with his opposite hand. "Can you believe this one? I don't know why I keep him around."

Daichi can think of plenty of reasons. Oikawa seems like good enough company: seems like the kind of guy you'd be more than happy to have around. He's pretty in his own odd sort of way, with his pale complexion and the untidy mess of auburn hair. (Daichi has also come to the conclusion that he wants to pull it again. Maybe twice.)

He wonders why Oikawa would keep Kuroo around, because he honestly doesn't know anyone who would agree to put up with someone like Kuroo who isn't part of the Nekoma volleyball team. Kuroo's oddly defensive personality far outweighs any of his other redeeming qualities, and Daichi supposes this is a good thing for Kuroo, because most shallow people would choose looks over personality. This kind of thing would be impossible with Kuroo: he's perceptive as hell and it's evident there's no way he'd ever stand for anything like that. They really love each other, Daichi realizes, and there are a lot of things inside of him that shy away from admitting that he might feel the same way.

"So," Oikawa says, taking the cup of tea from Kuroo's hands and taking a sip. "When do we get to the fun part of this date?" He looks directly at Daichi while he says this, glancing over the rim of the teacup with a fond look in his eyes.
Daichi can feel his face go red from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and he makes a small noise in the back of his throat that makes Kuroo laugh.

"What?" Kuroo asks, putting both elbows on the table and putting his chin in his hands. "Nervous?"

Daichi's face burns even more, if such a thing is even possible, because they're in public, dammit. He looks around, still visibly flustered, and leans in closer to Oikawa and Kuroo. "I'm not nervous. I've just never had sex with two other people before," Daichi whispers.

Kuroo snorts. Oikawa laughs and whispers. "You've never even had sex with just one person, Dai-chan."

Kuroo stops laughing. "Oh my god, I forgot." He smiles, then, a wicked kind of upturn of his lips. He exhales deeply and closes his eyes. "Fuck," he whispers. "Fuck."

—

Kuroo is definitely experiencing something far worse than impatience by the time their bill comes, and he pays it almost immediately. He doesn't check the price before shoving his card into the top and handing it back to the waitress. She looks at him, clearly suspicious.

They're walking back to Kuroo's car when Oikawa grabs Daichi's hand and laughs. He grabs Kuroo's hand, too. He goes to run ahead and almost slips and falls and almost drags Daichi and Kuroo with him. Daichi laughs, finds himself unable to stop, and gives up trying to suppress his laughter. He doesn't know why he would, anyway. Oikawa squeezes Daichi's hand tighter and doesn't let go until they pull into Kuroo's garage.

The cold nips at Daichi's nose and fills his lungs with an unpleasant sort of dryness, but when Oikawa breathes into him and kisses him deeply in front of the door, Daichi wouldn't change a thing.

"Are you two planning on freezing your dicks off trying to fuck in my garage?" Kuroo asks, leaning in the doorway. "Get in here before you die of frostbite."

Oikawa practically drags Daichi through the door, and they're immediately met with a satisfying wave of warmth and that calming sense of coming home after one has been away for more than a month.

And the first thing Kuroo says when they've run up the stairs and into his room, bless his soul, is, "Sorry for the mess." The only things on the floor are a pair of shorts and a few stray socks. The floor looks freshly vacuumed and the only thing amiss is Kuroo's bed, which is unmade and resembles something that went through a tornado.

Daichi looks down at his hands. He doesn't know why, it's an involuntary gesture, really, and he realizes that his hands are shaking. Kuroo follows his gaze and his expression changes slightly: not enough for Oikawa to notice, but Daichi picks up on the slight furrow of Kuroo's brow, the slight purse to his lips.

"I'm fine," he says, suddenly, and Oikawa's gaze immediately shifts to Daichi.

"We don't have to do anything, you know," Oikawa says, and there's a look of utmost sincerity in his eyes. "It's fine if you're not ready, or if you don't want to at all."

"No—" Daichi's throat feels tight, suddenly, like he can't breathe. "No, I just don't want to fuck this up."

Kuroo squints. "You'd have to be at least ten times stupider than you are now to fuck this up."

Daichi ignores the faint-hearted insult and shakes his head. "I love you," he says, heart racing and palms sweaty, a shout in the dark of Kuroo's room.

Oikawa looks taken aback. "Which one of—"

"Both of you!" Daichi is hiding his face now, far too embarrassed to even make some kind of attempt to look either one of them in the eyes. "Jesus fucking Christ." He's almost in goddamn tears. Emotion bubbles up in his throat and forms a lump there, and he feels like he's choking.

Oikawa takes Daichi's chin between his thumb and forefinger and pulls his face upward. "Look at me, Sawamura."

"Tooru," Kuroo warns.

Oikawa presses a finger to his lips. "Shh."

Kuroo grabs Oikawa's wrist and suddenly Daichi is scared, scared because Kuroo looks so uncertain, and the look in his eyes is reflected in Oikawa's. "We talked about this," Kuroo whispers, as if Daichi can't hear him. Oikawa lets go of Daichi's chin.

"Yeah," Oikawa says. "And we tell each other everything."

"Oh my god," Daichi says. "Oh my god."

Oikawa nods enthusiastically. "Yeah." He looks at Kuroo, who shrugs.

Kuroo runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "Aw, what the hell, Daichi. You wouldn't be here unless—uh—"

"Unless we both felt the same way," Oikawa finishes for him.

"You're such a fucking sap," Kuroo says, nudging Oikawa's arm.

Oikawa smiles sweetly and grabs Daichi's collar. "Yours truly."

When their lips meet, it's a relief. Oikawa breathes Daichi in, immediately moves his fingers to the back of Daichi's neck, and groans into the kiss.

"I don't know what to do," Daichi says, between kisses, for what feels like the billionth time.

Kuroo sighs. "Just do what feels right."

"A lot of things feel right."

Oikawa grabs Daichi's hands and walks him over to Kuroo's bed, which is a lot smaller than it had originally appeared, though it's far from uncomfortable. Oikawa kisses him again, slower, and this time it's different: every time Oikawa kisses him it's different. He's so caught up in the kiss that he doesn't notice Kuroo's hands on him until they're moving up the expanse of his chest, fingertips pressing into just the right places to make Daichi squirm.

"Bite his neck," Kuroo tells Oikawa. "You're so goddamn sensitive, holy shit." He runs the tips of his fingers up and down Daichi's ribs, pressing down hard enough to make him shiver.

Kuroo is a bad influence. Daichi realizes this the moment Oikawa latches onto the skin just below his ear: where Kuroo knows Daichi is sensitive as hell, and he realizes that he's a dead man, he's fucking done for. Kuroo bites his collarbone, hard, and Daichi fucking whines.

"Jesus Christ," Kuroo whispers, locates a new place on Daichi's neck to leave a mark. "Tooru. Tooru, tell him." Kuroo wraps his arms around Daichi's waist and pulls Daichi into his lap, almost effortlessly.

Oikawa pulls away from Daichi, and Daichi moves forward to kiss Oikawa again, chasing the feeling of another pair of lips on his own. "Do you trust us?" Oikawa asks, tentative, and there's so much compassion packed into his voice that it takes Daichi a moment to process what he's said.

"Yes." He says it as quickly as he can manage, because it's the truth.

"Alright, so, uh," Oikawa colors noticeably and rubs the back of his head nervously. "There's a lot of this that's going to seem incredibly weird, at first. Uh." If at all possible, his cheeks go even more red. "Threesomes, contrary to popular belief, aren't one-hundred percent fluid, y'know? Tetsu, help me out, here."

Kuroo still has his arms around Daichi and is showing no signs of letting go any time soon. "I got nothing. You're the expert, here." Daichi can tell he's getting impatient. He can feel Kuroo's cock against his ass, even through what feels like an infinite amount of layers of clothing.

Oikawa makes a tiny frustrated noise in the back of his throat and puts his hands on top of his own head. "Fuck, Kuroo, I've only done this once. I was drunk and stupid and I had no idea what I was doing." Kuroo rolls his eyes.

"It can't be that hard," Daichi says, licking his lips and grabbing Oikawa's collar, pulling him forward, claiming his lips in a kiss that's significantly more wet and more intense than any they've exchanged up until now. "We'll figure it out."

Kuroo seems relieved to have things back on track, and Daichi suddenly realizes that Kuroo is grinding against his ass. He doesn't remember if Kuroo was doing so before, but he's definitely doing it now, and fuck, if that isn't one of the most satisfying things Daichi has ever felt.

There's something about having this much attention pinned on him at once that makes Daichi feel like he's flying. He feels lighter than he's ever felt before, his head spins, and he wouldn't trade this feeling for anything in the world. When he rocks his hips backward to meet Kuroo's, he revels in the way Kuroo exhales through his teeth. When Daichi pulls away from Oikawa's lips and lets out a rushed whisper of "Tooru," he isn't embarrassed at all. Perhaps it had never been a matter of finding the perfect someone to pull such desires from deep within him. Perhaps it had only been a matter of finding two people who were capable of performing such an arduous task in tandem.

Daichi pulls away from Oikawa and turns to face Kuroo, who looks otherwise dissatisfied with the loss of friction, but seems beyond overjoyed when Daichi kisses him and immediately deepens the kiss with a groan. "Want you," Kuroo whispers, and Daichi can hear Oikawa shifting behind them.

"Clothes." Oikawa says, plainly, and Daichi feels a pair of hands yanking at the hem of his tee-shirt. He lets Oikawa pull the garment off, doesn't even watch as it hits the floor because he's too goddamn preoccupied with getting Kuroo out of his own shirt.

And as Daichi feels Oikawa's bare chest press against his back, pressing him forward so he's sandwiched between Kuroo and Oikawa, he shivers. He can't think clearly enough to determine whether or not he just moaned, weak and strained in the back of his throat. Kuroo's thumbs press into his hips and he pushes his hips forward. Oikawa nibbles at his neck, breath hot and heavy on Daichi's jaw.

"Daichi," Oikawa whispers, and his fingers trace Daichi's muscles with an unprecedented fixation. His nails are long and sharp and leave fire in their wake. "Dai-chan. Dai-chan, I have an idea."

“Me too,” Daichi says, without thinking, and the moment the words leave his lips he immediately feels the regret. He has no plan in mind, nor does he currently have the capacity to figure something out.

“Oh?” Kuroo says, raising an eyebrow. "Do enlighten us, Daichi." The words roll off of Kuroo's tongue like liquid and Daichi quickly decides he loves the way Kuroo's lips work around the syllables of his name. Daichi worries his lip between his teeth but doesn't take his eyes off of Kuroo while he traces the expanse of Kuroo's chest with his fingertips, slowly, tracing with his fingernails. Kuroo's breath hitches when Daichi reaches his waistband and before Daichi can undo Kuroo's pants, he's being turned around again by a rather impatient-looking Oikawa.

"Suck my dick, Daichi," Oikawa says, and there's no way he's not being serious, given the situation and seeing as he's serious enough to use 'Daichi' instead of 'Dai-chan.' Oikawa punctuates his command with a brief kiss and when he leans down to whisper a quick, "Tetsu will take care of you," Daichi fucking melts.

Every nerve in Daichi's body feels like it's on fire, every muscle wants to move in a different direction, and his head is spinning. There's a part of him that's intensely grateful for the lack of control he's currently being presented with. It's enough—If he tells them to stop or slow down, they will—yet not so much that he has complete power over the actions of both Oikawa and Kuroo. It's exhilarating, intensely satisfying when Oikawa turns Daichi around and moves his hands to the waistband of his sweatpants.

Daichi doesn't think he's ever seen someone get out of a pair of sweatpants so quickly. Oikawa does it, though, in a time that's probably equivalent to something like three seconds. Oikawa's boxers—sporting those cliché little alien faces and several rocketships—are also somehow the most figure-flattering and obnoxious things Daichi has ever encountered. Daichi laughs, breathless, and Oikawa smiles.

"What?" Oikawa's smiles coyly and thumbs the waistband of his boxers. "Why are you laughing, Daichi?"

There it is again, that tone he'd used before. There is no wave of confidence this time, but a warm haze has seemed to settle in his mind and he feels hyperaware of every miniscule movement around him. He can feel Kuroo shifting behind him, probably taking off his shirt, and the way his own fingertips tingle as they move down Oikawa's chest is nothing short of intoxicating. "You look good," Daichi almost laughs again.

"You're about to look even better," Oikawa says, and for a split second, Daichi has no idea what he might mean. The realization hits him shortly after Oikawa pulls off his boxers and immediately after he's stopped staring at what he believes to be the most beautiful dick he's ever seen in his life.

He looks up at Oikawa, who has this animalistic sort of hunger in his eyes, and says, "I've never done this before."

"What a surprise," Kuroo hums, Daichi can almost hear the eye-roll, and then he's shifting again. Daichi doesn't have time to look to see what he's doing, though, because Oikawa's thumb is suddenly on his lower lip, prompting Daichi to open his mouth. Daichi licks Oikawa's finger experimentally, and Oikawa's breath catches in his throat.

"Mind your teeth," Oikawa tells him.

Daichi is equal parts nervous, aroused, and overzealous, and his heart beats in his chest with more intensity than he feels himself capable of handling. The pent up want comes out as a breathless groan as he kisses down Oikawa's chest, licks a line from his navel to his hip. Oikawa leans back and breathes in, his breath shaky and uneven.

Daichi, out of pure instinct and a sudden inclination to make Oikawa want more, latches onto the skin of Oikawa's hip and sucks redness to the surface. Oikawa whines.

Daichi is stopped almost immediately by a pair of hands on his own hips, tugging at the hem of his jeans, (which have become something approaching unbearably tight) scrambling to undo the button. Kuroo's hands aren't shaking at all; his movements are sure and his fingers practiced, and Daichi finally comes to terms with the fact that he's missed Kuroo's hands in the short window of time he's been without them. He’s missed this reassurance that he’s with someone who knows what they’re doing: missed the knowledge that he’s within hands that are capable of providing whatever it is that he wants.

There’s not exactly a word for what Daichi feels as Kuroo gently eases his pants over his hips. He’s gentle, potentially slowed by a desire to provide a window of time in which Daichi is free to stop him, but Daichi does no such thing. Kuroo’s hands are rough and calloused, but Daichi doesn’t really mind. There’s something endearing about the lack of correlation between the softness of his touch and the softness of his hands.

“Shit,” Daichi huffs, dizzy, because he can feel himself falling more and more in love with Kuroo, with Oikawa, by the second. He gives himself a moment to reconsider, and when he thinks about it—when he really, truly thinks about it—he realizes he’s never felt this right. He’s never felt more in place, never felt like he does here, between both Oikawa and Kuroo, like he was always meant to be there.

“You alright?” Kuroo asks.

Daichi exhales sharply, turning back to the task at hand. “This is nice,” he whispers, and he can feel the way the words make his lips feel completely and utterly filthy, and he swallows his guilt as he traces a line from Oikawa’s hip to the base of his cock with his tongue. He revels in the way Oikawa tenses beneath him and shivers.

Daichi has little to no idea how to go about giving someone a blowjob. He’s sure it’s much easier in theory than it ever will be in practice. This, he knows. He knows that the most sensible approach to this is not something to be rushed and guessed at, but most things come to him with practice, and he hasn’t really had much practice as far as anything in this area is concerned. Sure, he’s done internet research, but all of that is beginning to form a rather confusing fog in his mind.

Daichi takes the head of Oikawa's cock into his mouth, gently, heeding Oikawa's warning about his teeth.

Oikawa inhales sharply and chokes on a whimper. Daichi suddenly realizes that Oikawa's hands are in his hair, pulling upward and then pressing down. He isn't gentle. Oikawa Tooru, Daichi has learned, is never gentle when he really, truly wants something. Daichi trusts that Oikawa won’t crush him with his thighs, but the way Oikawa’s legs are inching inward at a steady pace is making him have second thoughts. There’s something exciting about that. Daichi can’t place exactly what it could be.

He remembers how deep Oikawa had taken him, and he's never really tested out the capacity of his gag reflex. He supposes he really has nothing to lose in this situation, since both Oikawa and Kuroo have acknowledged the fact that Daichi is a beginner and the possibility that he'll be horrible at every sexual endeavor he attempts to pursue. In a short-lived burst of confidence, he takes Oikawa deeper, and finds that maybe it's not so bad, after all. Oikawa is big, and there's only so much he can do to keep his hips firmly planted in place, especially when he can feel his cock hit the back of Daichi's throat, but when Oikawa's hips buck upwards even the slightest bit, the exertion sends a wave of pleasure straight to Daichi's cock.

He wants to be touched, preferably in the roughest way possible. He's harder than he's ever been in his entire life, probably, and every time Oikawa makes some kind of pleased noise, it only serves to make Daichi's situation worse. He makes the mistake (?) of arching his back and suddenly there are a pair of hands on his lower back, thumbs pressing into the arch of Daichi's spine and making him shudder.

"God, Daichi," Kuroo mutters, under his breath. His hands roam lower, and he's dragging this out: Daichi can tell. Kuroo's fingers skate over Daichi’s skin and suddenly it’s very hard to focus on anything else. He groans in surprise as Kuroo suddenly grabs his ass, roughly. Oikawa tenses above Daichi, audibly holding back some kind of sound. It's then that Daichi realizes that Oikawa and Kuroo are kissing. Daichi can't see them, but the noises Oikawa begins making don't leave much to imagination.

Daichi, starving for and shame numbed by his need for some kind of relief, pulls off of Oikawa's dick and takes a moment to catch his breath. "Tetsu," he breathes, and his throat feels raw. It's a good feeling. "Fuck me."

If you'd told the Sawamura Daichi of two weeks prior that he'd soon be at the sexual mercy of both Oikawa Tooru and Kuroo Tetsurou, he would have laughed in your face. This laughter would have likely been accompanied by no small amount of facial discoloration, and perhaps the blatant denial that he would dare consider something so vulgar.

He's never felt so completely full, so satisfied and desperate all at the same time. After a certain point, Daichi finds it easier to focus on the others at the same time: the heavy weight of Oikawa's cock on his tongue, the not-so-gentle press of Kuroo's fingers inside of him, stretching, prodding. The buzzing has returned in his head and his back arches when Kuroo's fingers graze his prostate.

Oikawa's voice comes in broken gasps and hiccups. "I'm—" he's squirming more and more. Daichi can tell he's close. "Fuck, Tetsu, fuck him," his voice goes up an octave as Daichi eases off, and Oikawa is quick to chase the feeling of Daichi's lips around him as he thrusts forward into Daichi's mouth. "Fuck."

Kuroo's fingers are gone almost immediately. There's a sound like a bottle opening, the sound of foil tearing, and then he's pressing his cock into Daichi, slowly, excruciatingly so, and Daichi would be lying if he said it isn't a stretch. It's a good kind of stretch though, more satisfying than Kuroo's fingers. He has to take a moment to catch his breath and get over the regret that he hadn't taken the time to get a better look at Kuroo's dick.

"Move," Daichi says, thighs quaking and breathing heavily. He bites his lip and he can feel himself dripping onto the sheets.

"Is that right?" Kuroo laughs, giving an experimental thrust of his hips. Daichi buries his face in the sheets.

"Dai-chaaan," Oikawa moans, tugging on Daichi's hair, pulling his face upward again. Truth be told, Daichi's jaw needs a well-earned break, but he's not about to deny Oikawa anything right now. "Make me feel good, Dai-chan."

Daichi doesn't need to be told twice. Almost as if they've established some kind of system, Kuroo picks up the pace as soon as Daichi has Oikawa's cock in his mouth again. Daichi can already feel imminent orgasm curling in his gut and he wants to warn Kuroo, but, as it turns out, he doesn't have to. Kuroo's thrusts are becoming out-of-rhythm and erratic and Oikawa's moans are beyond revealing how close he is. Daichi tries to contemplate whether he wants to pull off or risk having to swallow, but before he can decide Oikawa is coming in his mouth. The strangest part about this is that Daichi doesn't find the taste of Oikawa particularly unpleasant in any way. He doesn't have time to physically swallow, though: Kuroo's cock is hitting all of the right places inside of him and before he realizes it he's coming. He can't find it in himself to care that he's likely ruined Kuroo's sheets. It only takes two more thrusts and no small deal of overstimulated whimpering from Daichi for Kuroo to find his own release.

There's some kind of mixture of saliva and cum on Daichi's chin that he can't find it in himself to wipe away. Oikawa lies on the mattress next to him, boneless and likely already asleep.

Daichi wants to pass out, and he doesn't know where Kuroo pulls the sudden energy from, but he's suddenly being turned around and kissed senseless. Kuroo pulls away and licks at Daichi's jaw and his cheek. It's a short-lived energy, Daichi realizes, as Kuroo's eyes suddenly go half-lidded and he looks like he's going to pass out.

"I love you," Kuroo whispers, grabbing Daichi's arm. "Jesus fucking Christ, Sawamura."

"Seconded." Oikawa offers from behind them.

Daichi smiles, weakly. "That makes three of us."

Maybe stepping out of his comfort zone isn't so bad, after all. He's never felt more comfortable than he feels right now, sandwiched between these two equally sweaty, equally crafty, ex-volleyball-captains. The smell of sweat, sex, Kuroo's cheap-ass cologne and the scent of Oikawa's obnoxiously fruity shampoo lull him into a deep sleep, and he's never felt more at home.