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“I don’t get why I have to be here for this part,” Tsukishima complained.
To his right, Kuroo sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. “Now-now Tsukki, it’s the polite thing to do.”
Tsukishima shook Kuroo off and then crossed his arms against his chest for warmth. It was cold standing outside, but Kuroo had insisted that both of them—Akaashi was there, too—join him in greeting the visiting party.
“It’s the polite thing for you to do,” Tsukishima pointed out. “You’re the JVA representative, not us.”
Kuroo huffed. “Well,” he said, his gaze panning across both Tsukki and Akaashi—who was also fighting the chill with his navy blue sherpa-lined jacket, “you two are my entourage. How about that?”
Tsukishima opened his mouth to argue, but beside him Akaashi sighed. “It’s as good as we’ll get,” he said. “At least he’s not calling us his plus-ones.”
I will strangle you, Tsukishima thought as Kuroo grinned at him knowingly. He was Kuroo’s plus-one; Akaashi had invited himself because Bokuto was among the group the Black Jackals were sending for the JVA function. Tsukki, meanwhile, didn’t feel too strongly about any of the visitors from Osaka; he did—begrudgingly—however, have one opening in his aloof heart for the bed-headed asshole beside him.
…Not that anyone was supposed to know that. He was sure, though, that Akaashi had surmised it by now, given how little effort was put into their "oh, I was just in the neighborhood" excuse. Tsukki was all the way from Miyagi, he had no real business being in Tokyo, but Akaashi was wise enough not to comment on it.
Technically, he and Kuroo weren’t even dating. They’d never actually said those words, it was just that at some point continuing to call their (ever more frequent) meetups “friendly get-togethers” became laughable. So, strictly speaking, the minimal effort put into maintaining some degree of plausible deniability wasn’t necessary. They were "just friends," if only in a manner of speaking. Their actions, though, at times, certainly didn’t reflect that sentiment…
“Besides,” Kuroo added after a moment, “you didn’t have to come at all.”
He had a point, but Tsukishima wasn’t about to award him that. The JVA was putting all its invitees and representatives up at the Ritz-Carlton, and Tsukki wasn’t apathetic enough to turn down Kuroo’s invitation to stay at a luxury hotel for free. Especially since, while the JVA paid for everyone to stay in normal rooms, Kuroo had—through his penchant for Karenism and finding a hair on his mattress—managed to get himself upgraded to a penthouse suite. Tsukki, truly, had no choice but to go along with it. That room probably cost more than several months of savings.
Rather than waste his breath arguing, Tsukishima rolled his eyes and instead rubbed his freezing hands against each other. He had to maintain circulation somehow.
Honestly, he wouldn’t have been so pissed about being part of the welcome party if Kuroo’s assertion that the Black Jackals would arrive any second had proved true. Tsukishima didn’t know how long they’d been standing outside exactly, but it’d been long enough to call bullshit.
Scratch that; Tsukishima shook his head. His annoyance wasn’t a commodity; one cause shouldn’t have to lessen the other. He was pissed that the Black Jackals’ arrival wasn’t as prompt as Kuroo had made it seem, and just as much so that he was there at all. Not only was Bokuto going to be among the group—who was already far more hyper than Tsukki had the patience for most of the time—Hinata would be too. At least Akaashi would be able to reign Bokuto in, but Hinata? Tsukishima definitely wasn’t excited to have his ear talked off, no doubt with a flurry of questions about why he was there.
If nothing else, at least Tsukishima’s morality would still be intact, as telling Hinata that he just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time wouldn’t really be a lie. Or… it’d be a half-lie: the Ritz-Carlton was the right place, but being there while in the company of others made it the wrong time.
After a few more grueling minutes waiting in the cold, one of the many shuttles that had been bussing guests in and out pulled in front of where Kuroo and his “entourage” were stood. The driver got out and opened the door, quickly stepping out of the way to tend to the luggage in the trunk, a regimen he was clearly quite adept at.
First to exit was Miya—blonde hair, right, so—Atsumu, who continued to face the car as he got out. He had his hands out in front him like he was trying to placate an angry toddler.
“...Omi, I’m so”—Atsumu drooped his head and sighed—”I can’t tell ya just how sorry I am.”
“Just shut up,” Sakusa snarled as he emerged next, shoving Atsumu aside and quickly rounding his way to the back of the shuttle—but not before the welcome party on the sidewalk caught a glimpse of the massive wet patch on his clothes.
Someone spilled something on him, Tsukishima thought, knowingly, as Atsumu finally turned around with a look on his face like he’d dropped his family’s heirloom ring onto the subway tracks.
Kuroo’s lips were pursed, suddenly at a loss for the most manner-some thing to say, given both the awkward scene before him and his lack of familiarity with Atsumu. Luckily for him, Bokuto had spotted him and was shuffling out of his seat as fast as he could.
“Hey-hey-hey!” Bokuto greeted, immediately spreading his arms wide for a hug. “Look at you Mr. Bigshot Kuroo-kun!”
Kuroo reciprocated and heartily patted Bokuto on the back. “Just because they’ve got me in a blazer doesn’t make me a bigshot!”
“I don’t know man, I think”—Bokuto saw someone else step forward over Kuroo’s shoulder—”Akaashi!” he bellowed, drawing out the middle syllable of his dearest friend’s name for a beat too long like always.
Akaashi laughed, a short huff through his nose. “Hi Bokuto-san.”
Tsukishima had to step back as Bokuto sprung past him to bring Akaashi into a hug of his own. Eventually, though, Bokuto noticed him in his periphery. “Woah! Is that Tsukki?”
Just as Tsukishima was about to put up his most polite smile and go through the formalities of saying hello, Hinata finally got out of the car and practically yelled his name in surprise.
“Tsukishima?!”
Here we go… Tsukki turned to face his former teammate, but not before shooting Kuroo a glance that screamed please help me.
Kuroo tilted his head and smirked and—well, Tsukishima really should’ve known better. As Hinata almost ran into him like he was the net in their first year of high school, Tsukishima sighed, accepting of his fate.
“Hinata,” he acknowledged.
“What’re you doing here?” Hinata asked.
“Well,” Tsukishima began, “I just happened to be at the wrong place at the—”
Kuroo cleared his throat. “—at the wrong time?”
Hinata darted his eyes between the two of them and squinted, confused. “Huh?”
You’re not helping, Tsukishima wanted to say to Kuroo, who knew exactly what he was doing butting in at that moment. When he’d pleaded with his eyes before, he was hoping Kuroo would take charge immediately—not let him fend for himself and then jump in.
“Yes”—Tsukki rolled his eyes—”something like that.”
By the look on his face, Hinata clearly didn’t follow, but it didn’t take long for him to brush it off and change subjects like the scatterbrain he was.
“What’s it like down there in division two?” Hinata asked, now trying to get a rise out of an unbothered Tsukishima.
“It’s fine.”
“Just fine?” Hinata repeated, not convinced. “Yamaguchi told me that your last game was super awesome!”
Sometimes, Tsukishima forgot that Yamaguchi was actually friends with Hinata. Unfortunately, it’d been many years since Yamaguchi had grown out of being his shadow, otherwise Tsukishima would’ve told him to stop bragging about him. Alas, Yamaguchi was too cool to be told what to do nowadays.
“He’s exaggerating,” Tsukishima said.
“He said you got a no-touch ace—”
Kuroo clapped his hands twice, drawing everyone’s attention. “Alright! On behalf of the JVA, welcome to Tokyo! It’s…”
Tsukishima tuned out as Kuroo began his prepared speech about the next day’s event. With Hinata distracted, he took the opportunity to slip a few steps back so they wouldn’t be right next to each other anymore. Tsukishima couldn’t help but feel a bit like an asshole—he didn’t hate Hinata—but, well, he didn’t need to make excuses for himself. It was much easier embracing being kind of a bitch than pretending he had a social battery… not that he could do a good job of that anyway.
“...so remember that for tomorrow. Anyway, that aside, you’re all invited for drinks at my room!” Kuroo finished, charismatic as ever.
Bokuto and Hinata practically jumped up and down at the offer. Atsumu perked up at the prospect as well, but turned to Sakusa first—who had concerned himself with personally retrieving his luggage despite the Ritz’s bellhop service.
“Ya comin’ Omi?”
Sakusa stared death at Atsumu, jutting his head a little forward and then looking down where his luggage was strategically shielding the wet stain on his clothes.
“Ah”—Atsumu rubbed the back of his neck—”right… sorry.”
“That’s quite alright,” Kuroo said. “If the rest of us are ready then let’s be off! Oh, and Sakusa-san, we’ll be on the forty-ninth floor if you change your mind.”
Sakusa hummed his acknowledgement, something that Tsukishima could recognize as actually saying no, I don’t think I will. After all, those had roughly been his words when Kuroo had told him about his plan to invite everyone for drinks. Just because the penthouse suite had so much room for entertaining didn’t mean they had to, but Kuroo had again insisted it was the most polite thing to do.
Ultimately, Tsukishima had no place better to go, nor was sixty-thousand yen wine something he wanted to pass on either. And—well, at least he wouldn’t have to be sober.
Kuroo led the group to the elevator which was—surprisingly—not an awful ride. That was perhaps owed to Tsukishima’s deliberate maneuvering about the group that placed him in the corner behind Kuroo and Akaashi.
“Wow!” Hinata said after a while, “I’ve never been in an elevator ride this long!”
“Me either, Shouyou,” Atsumu said, likewise in mundane awe.
Hinata darted his gaze between Kuroo, Akaashi, and Bokuto, “I wish I could’ve grown up in Tokyo!”
Tsukishima snickered. “I see it still doesn’t take much to amaze you.”
“Come on, now, Tsukki”—Kuroo looked over his shoulder—“going up and down elevators was the joy of my childhood!”
The elevator stopped and dinged. “...And getting off this one will be the joy of my adulthood,” Tsukishima quipped.
The group filtered into the penthouse and Kuroo directed everyone to the couches while he prepared drinks.
Hinata ran right up to the window. “Wow! What a view!”
Tsukishima had to concede that it was, in fact, quite a sight to behold. Especially since it was getting dark, the Tokyo skyline was mesmerizing in a way that it wasn’t earlier in the day. The lights on all the skyscrapers were like something out of a cyberpunk movie. Rather than whip up anything clever to say, Tsukki instead took his seat nearest to the windows on the end of one of the couches. He might as well snatch the best spot while everyone was preoccupied.
Akaashi seemed to have the same idea and took the seat opposite Tsukishima on the other couch. Bokuto, having seen enough of the view he was already accustomed to—albeit not from such a high vantage point—plopped down next to Akaashi. Atsumu took the last space on that couch; sensible—considering the only other option was next to Tsukishima whom he wasn’t as close to.
Fuck. Tsukishima glanced across the room to the bar where Kuroo hadn’t even gotten out the glasses, hoping that he’d come and sit down beside him before—
Hinata was finished being awestruck by the view and sat down right next to Tsukishima—who looked past the dimwit at all the free space on the other end of the couch.
“So Tsukishima, I don’t think you ever said why you’re in Tokyo.” Hinata questioned.
Clearly, ‘wrong place at the wrong time’ wasn’t going to cut it. Tsukishima took a deep breath, hoping to come up with something by the next beat of the conversation.
Fortunately for him, Akaashi could sense his desire to get away from the subject. “Kuroo and I happened to run into him when we met up this morning,” he said. “So we invited him to tag along to spend some time in the city before you guys arrived.”
“Oh really?” Hinata asked. “What’d you guys do?”
Good, that was easier to talk about. “We had breakfast,” Tsukishima said.
“Pancakes,” Akaashi elaborated.
Bokuto perked up. “Did you go to the place we used to eat at?”
Akaashi nodded and the two began reminiscing about old times. Meanwhile, Kuroo had procured six glasses.
“What would everyone like?” Kuroo waved his hand over the vast bar. “If you want it, I’ve got it.”
Tsukishima gave a look to Kuroo, who nodded knowingly, while the rest of the group gave their requests: peach shochu for Hinata, two beers for Bokuto and Akaashi, and a sour umeshu for Atsumu.
While Kuroo got everyone’s drinks ready one-by-one, conversation resumed among the rest of the group.
“...and after that Kuroo-san treated us to lunch,” Akaashi said.
“Ooh! Where’d you guys go?” Bokuto asked.
“The Narisawa.”
Bokuto nearly choked on his beer. “Really?!”
“Is that expensive?” Hinata asked, having made a guess.
Bokuto pounded on his chest, coughing. “Yes! Very!” he said. “Don’t you have to make a reservation like weeks in advance?!”
Tsukishima hummed. “It was only three days…” he said and trailed off, realizing that knowing that so easily might be too telling. “At least… that’s what he told us,” he added.
“That’d be correct,” Kuroo said as he handed Atsumu his drink.
“Thanks,” Atsumu said while keeping his attention on the group. “What do they serve at Narisawa?”
“We had the full omakase experience,” Akaashi answered.
Kuroo handed Tsukishima his drink—a highball with strawberry soda—and then took his seat on the couch with a beer of his own; the fancy wine would be for later. “They had this mirugai which was simply exquisite,” he said, seamlessly jumping into the conversation.
“Wow”—Atsumu nodded his head and then took the first sip of his drink—“Mmm, this is incredible. I’ve gotta say, Kuroo-san, ya seem like quite the classy guy.”
Tsukishima was glad he hadn’t taken a sip of his drink yet because otherwise he would’ve spat it out as he burst into laughter. “No-no-no—he’s not!”
Bokuto and Akaashi were also laughing, with Hinata joining by merit of contagion.
Atsumu darted his eyes around, confused. “What? He’s not a cool guy?”
“Hey!” Kuroo said, raising his voice to try and get above the uproar. “I gave you two the nicest lunch in the world and I’m serving you all the finest drinks in Tokyo! I, for one, think I’m very classy!”
Tsukishima took off his glasses so he could wipe the tears out of his eyes. “Oh my god,” he said, still not done laughing over the most absurd description of Kuroo he’d ever heard. “No—okay, let me tell you what he did earlier.”
“Oh, right!” Akaashi broke into another fit of laughter, knowing what Tsukishima was going to say.
Kuroo let out an exasperated sigh. His first impression on Atsumu was quite clearly going astray.
Tsukishima sat up straighter to tell the story. “So earlier we’re here and this guy”—he pointed across Hinata at Kuroo,—“calls up the front desk of the hotel—the Ritz-fucking-Carlton—and asks if they have ‘tap water—but put it in bottles,’” he quoted.
Already, a new wave of laughter overtook the group, save Kuroo who didn’t find Tsukki’s exposé of him so funny. He opened his mouth to try and explain but was cut off.
“So he’s trying to maintain the appearance of being fancy,” Tsukishima continued, “but on a budget—for no reason!”
Kuroo wasn’t exactly Mr. Moneybags, but he made enough to be comfortable… if comfortable meant being able to pay for the most high-end meals and the luxuries of the Ritz-Carlton.
“Okay—look,” Kuroo said, hands in front of him, trying to turn the tide of the room back in his favor. “I’m just trying to make a point that no matter how much success you have, you’re never too big to strike a bargain.”
Without skipping a beat, Tsukishima pointed at the window. “Kuroo! We are literally looking down at a helipad!”
Kuroo threw his hands up as the room went into another laughing fit at his expense. There really wasn’t a defense—Tsukishima had thoroughly gotten him there.
Nevermind that he was supposed to be making at least some effort to pretend he and Kuroo barely knew each other, Tsukishima had his priorities set straight: there was no world where he could sit by and let Kuroo’s head get big from a single, misguided, compliment. Kuroo Tetsurou, no matter how hard he tried to prove otherwise, was the most ridiculous man on the planet. Tsukishima could not, will not, ever let him live down his eccentricities.
Akaashi took a deep breath—he needed to breathe eventually. “Oh my god… and that isn’t even the worst thing he did today! At the restaurant he—”
Tsukishima snorted and leaned forward to get a better look at Kuroo. The defeated look on the bed-headed bastard’s face was priceless—too priceless. They were both aware of what Akaashi was going to call him out for, but only one of them was laughing about it.
“...so then he asks the chef”—Akaashi deepened his voice, mimicking Kuroo—”’but do you have salmon?’”
Bokuto blinked. “What?” he asked, utterly baffled.
“And the chef obviously says ‘no, I just read out the menu—did you think there was a special?’” Akaashi continued. “And Kuroo goes ‘no, I was just going off the books.’”
“Oh come on!” Kuroo groaned. “Was that so wrong of me?”
“Yes!” Tsukishima said. “It’s omakase! The whole point is that the chef decides what’s being served!”
“Yeah”—Hinata nodded his head—“I don’t usually get omakase but even I know that.”
Kuroo again scanned the room to see if anyone was even remotely receptive to hearing him out. His eyes landed on Atsumu who looked rather bemused, but—as the person he was least acquainted with—might still be swayable.
“Look, at the end of the day, it’s still just sushi,” Kuroo said, “and I wanted salmon—y’know, like from Sushiro.”
Bokuto laughed. “Like from Sushiro?!”
“Okay…” Kuroo sighed and drooped his head. He wasn’t helping his cause.
Tsukishima threw his head back and laughed. This is cathartic. Now everyone was getting a taste of what he had to put up with.
“Yeah, he really goes to the Narisawa chef and asks”—Tsukishima straightened up to launch into another mocking imitation—“but, c’mon, you have the Sushiro salmon, right?”
“I didn’t say it like that!” Kuroo protested.
Tsukishima and Akaashi scrunched their noses… it was pretty much like that. Regardless, Kuroo’s absurdity was far too great to dig himself out of the hole he’d found himself in.
“Oh!” Hinata exclaimed. “Me next! Me next!”
“For what?” Bokuto asked.
“I also have a Kuroo story!”
The man of the hour buried his head in his hands. “You… do?”
“Yeah! Kenma told me!” Hinata said.
Tsukishima leaned back and crossed his legs, happily in for the long-haul of Kuroo bashing. Maybe he’d given Hinata a bad wrap so far, because it was likely he was about to score some points with what he was going to share.
“He said that you two went to a wedding,” Hinata began, “and you rented a shirt that smelled like B.O.”
Already off to a great start, Tsukishuma mused.
Atsumu squinted, confused. “Like… on purpose?”
Kuroo shot out and waved his hands in front of him, wanting to shut that notion down right away. It was a losing battle, but he had to cling to some hope that he could still walk away without Atsumu thinking so lowly of him.
“No-no-no!” Kuroo said, desperately. “I don’t know what Kenma told you but there’s no twisting this!”
Tsukishima huffed. “Hinata, please keep twisting.”
“Are you sure?” Hinata asked. “Kuroo doesn’t seem to want me to.”
Why was he choosing now to care how Kuroo felt? Tsukishima shook his head and spoke before Kuroo could confirm. “Trust me, he wants you to; go on.”
“Okay! He told me that you went around to everyone telling them about how you smelled.”
The whole room seemed to blink at the same time. He did what?
“I had to!” Kuroo defended. “If I didn’t let everyone know that it was that stupid shirt, then they all would’ve thought that I stunk!”
“Who’s saying you don't?” Tsukishima snickered.
Kuroo stared daggers Tsukki’s way, an intense gaze that quickly imploded as—for at least a second—he had to question if the accusation was serious.
“If it smelled so bad, why did you wear it?” Bokuto asked, his bewilderment evidenced by his tone.
Kuroo huffed and gathered his expression. Tsukishima couldn’t believe it but it looked as though Kuroo was still determined to get everyone on his side. He really believes that he’s in the right with all his being.
“Well it looked the best and I was in a crunch!” Kuroo explained. “I figured I’d just spray it with industrial cleaner the morning-of and it’d be fine.”
“It doesn’t sound like that plan worked,” Akaashi pointed out.
Kuroo sighed. “It did! Until a few hours later when it started to stink again!”
“Oh yeah!” Hinata said, remembering more details of the story. “Didn’t you leave part-way through so you could drench yourself in cologne?”
Tsukishima rubbed his forehead, simultaneously amused but also in disbelief at how ridiculous Kuroo was. By now, he should be used to it, but Kuroo always found ways to top himself.
“I did!” Kuroo threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “But thirty minutes later and the B.O. smell was back!”
“If it kept returning…” Akaashi trailed off, thinking, “then don’t you think it might’ve just been the type of fabric that smelled that way?”
Kuroo’s expression faltered as realization settled in, his eyes wide and jaw slightly dropped. He’d not considered that until now.
Tsukishima laughed. “This whole time you thought your designer shirt stunk? That’s incredible.”
“Oh my god…” Kuroo mumbled. “I… I went to war with that store.”
Of course you did. Kuroo always posited that he was on some holy crusade whenever he fought his battles against the products and services he felt wronged him—something about "consumer rights" and getting what he paid for.
Tsukishima thought that he just liked to complain.
“Whatever,” Kuroo said. “It’s still on them that their shirt stunk. I earned every cent of that refund—”
“You got it refunded?!” Bokuto interrupted, shocked. The rest of the room, too, had similarly visceral reactions.
“After you poured cleaner and cologne all over it?!” Hinata gasped—he hadn’t heard that part of the story.
“Exactly!” Kuroo said, deciding to interpret everyone’s befuddlement as validation. “I got that refund because that shirt stank and I was wronged!”
Always the hero. Frankly, Kuroo’s ability to negotiate towards his preferred outcome, regardless of the impossibility, was impressive. He’d once gotten Tsukki’s dinner taken off the bill, plus an extra meal for compensation, all over his water-with-light-ice not being light enough. Regardless of being able to benefit from Kuroo’s talent, Tsukishima still felt he deserved to be ragged on for how much time and heart he’d devote to trivialities.
Akaashi placed his hand on Bokuto’s knee. “You’re up.”
“Huh?” Bokuto blinked, not following.
Tsukishima sighed. “Surely you’ve got a good Kuroo story somewhere.”
“Oh!” Bokuto perked up, catching on. “I do!”
Kuroo closed his eyes and threw his head back, exhaling longly. His fate was sealed—and had been for some time.
“So about two years ago,” Bokuto began, “Kuroo and I went to Gozaisho for the ski season, and we stayed at the resort, right?”
Akaashi nodded his head. “I remember you telling me this.”
“Mm-hm,” Bokuto continued, “and I was checking us in—I was gonna pay—when he came forward and paid instead.”
“See?” Kuroo cut in. “That’s just what an upstanding guy does.”
Tsukishima rolled his eyes. What was Kuroo thinking he could still salvage at this point?
“Well”—Bokuto tilted his head—“you said you did it because you owed me for forgetting my birthday.”
Yup! Tsukishima laughed; of course there’d been more to it.
“That’s not even it!” Bokuto went on. “A few weeks later I got an email from the resort saying they forgot to charge us for some of the room service. I forwarded it to him because they needed his card.”
“I sense a but,” Akaashi surmised.
“But, apparently he hasn’t done it because they’ve been sending me reminders like every three weeks ever since!”
Ah, Kuroo wasn’t just an outrageous person, he was also a criminal. Tsukishima made a mental note never to give him a loan.
“How much is the bill?” Hinata asked.
“Only like five thousand yen,” Bokuto approximated. “Not even a lot!”
Kuroo stood up and waved his hands around. “I’ve had enough,” he proclaimed. “I did everything right at that resort! I paid when we left, and if they forgot to charge me for something then it’s on them and not my problem!”
“Kuroo,” Tsukishima said, sounding very over his defenses, “it’s five thousand yen. Why are you going into debt over that?”
Kuroo shook his head. “No! I would do the same even if it were only five hundred yen! Why should I go through the trouble of filling out some stupid credit card authorization form over their error?”
“Because the room was under my name so I’m the one getting harassed about it!” Bokuto answered, on the verge of actually sounding annoyed.
“Yeah, dude, just pay the bill,” Akaashi said.
Tsukishima ate up the incredulous look on Kuroo’s face. Of course no one was going to be on his side. Hadn’t he figured that out by now? Oh the vindication.
“Don’t you feel bad about stiffing them?” Hinata asked, tilting his head questioningly.
Kuroo balked at the implication. “You all are acting as if this luxury resort is going to go under because of five-thousand yen! If anything, they should owe me money!”
Everyone was silent, not really having the words to put up with Kuroo’s eccentricity. He gave one last look around the room; Hinata had his head to one side, baffled, Tsukishima rolled his eyes for the millionth time, Akaashi looked on disapprovingly, Bokuto was shaking his head as he sipped his beer, and Atsumu was pursing his lips.
“Miya-san,” Kuroo said, pleading, “what I’ve come to realize from all this is that coolness is subjective—”
Tsukishima stifled a laugh.
“Shut up!” Kuroo snapped and then gestured at the group by waving his hand. “These four’s tastes clearly don’t align with mine; but right from the start, you realized that I had class. Please tell me you’re still a real one.”
All eyes were on Atsumu now to see how he’d respond. Tsukishima grinned in anticipation for the final nail to be struck into Kuroo’s proverbial coffin. This get-together had defied all of his expectations. In fact, it may have turned out to be one of the most enjoyable evenings Tsukishima had had in a long time. It was always a game with Kuroo—to see who could break through each other’s wise guy exterior first and gain the upper hand; to finally leave the other with nothing clever to say.
This evening? Tsukishima hadn’t even needed to put in the effort to win over, and over, and over again while taking absolutely zero hits. When he’d wanted Kuroo to help him get out of Hinata’s interrogations earlier, he should’ve just started calling Mr. Rooster-head out on his bullshit; clearly it’d proved to be a more effective way of redirecting the spotlight than any other way he could’ve helped.
“Uhh”—Atsumu rubbed the back of his head, feeling more put on the spot than in the center of the court—”ya seem like a reasonable enough guy ta’ me.”
Tsukishima blinked. What? He was not alone in that sentiment as everyone also had expressed their shock aloud and in unison.
Bokuto looked at Atsumu, flabbergasted. “How could you possibly still think that?!”
“Yeah!” Hinata agreed. “I mean… he’s a cool guy, but not like that!”
Atsumu was now the one putting his hands up defensively. “It sounds like he’s a guy who wants ta’ get what he pays for; I respect that.”
Akaashi leaned forward. “What about that bill? He didn’t pay for that.”
As a smile grew on Kuroo’s face, it was as if all the joy in Tsukishima’s was being drained. He’d flown too close to the sun, alas only setting himself up for disappointment. Of course—of course—there had to be this turn of events; of course Miya Atsumu also had to be part-insane.
“It’s not his fault they forgot ta’ charge him.”
Kuroo shot Tsukishima a glance, conveying everything he already knew he was thinking. All the feeling of vindication you’ve had has transferred over to me. Tsukishima wanted to say something, but he knew that’d only be giving Kuroo more of a win. Instead, he bitterly took a sip of his drink.
“What about the shirt that he poured cologne all over?” Hinata brought up, as if Atsumu had forgotten and would change his stance.
“Same thing. They sold him a bad product.”
Akaashi took a deep breath, knowing that the case they’d all been building against Kuroo was likely to continue unraveling. “You’re on his side about the omakase too?”
“Well…” Atsumu tilted his head from side to side. “My brother says those places are kinda pretentious anyway.”
Did he learn that word just for this moment? Tsukishima took a long sip of his drink. Heaven knows he needed it. If the pattern held, then Atsumu, for the rest of time, would be the person Kuroo cited every time he was accused of being unreasonable. That he’d found the one person in all of Nihon, maybe the entire world, that was on the same page as him was a life-altering development for Kuroo. Naturally, that meant Tsukishima’s eyes were bound to roll out of their sockets in the near future… shocking that they hadn’t already.
“I seem to recall you laughing with us when Tsukishima-san owned him about the helipad,” Akaashi pointed out. Perhaps there was a line.
Kuroo cleared his throat before Atsumu could speak, wanting to cling to what he’d so far mustered. “Can’t my—our dear Tsukki be funny and wrong at the same time?”
If lasers could shoot out of his eyes, then Tsukishima would’ve vaporized Kuroo where he stood. That was no slip of the tongue; Kuroo was—begrudgingly—too smart for that. The way he ever so-slightly smirked when Hinata perked up proved as much. It was the bastard’s way of getting payback.
“Can’t you stay humbled for more than a minute?” Tsukishima retorted.
Kuroo smirked. “I wouldn’t want to steal your spotlight.”
Frustration flared through Tsukishima’s eyes. It was moments like these that reminded him how much of a double-edged sword Kuroo was. Being one of the only people who could really match and challenge him was what made Kuroo interesting, but at the same time the asshole’s penchant for provocation was a trap Tsukishima couldn’t seem to stop falling into.
I can’t even be mad. Tsukishima exhaled, seethingly, and took another sip of his drink. It seemed that his original plan for the evening would be put into action after all.
The rest of the get-together went by in a blur. Bokuto and Akaashi spent their time catching up and talking about the old days, Kuroo bonded with his new best-friend Atsumu, and Hinata talked Tsukishima’s ear off with many questions and got many tactful avoidances in return.
“Did Yamaguchi tell you about—”
“No.”
Hinata pouted. “I didn’t even finish!”
Tsukishima reached for his glass and found it empty. He got up to refill at the bar where Kuroo also happened to be doing the same.
“Ready to try it out?” Kuroo asked, holding up the sixty-thousand yen wine.
Tsukishima clicked his tongue. “I don't know… you seemed more interested in the tap water.”
“Ulgh”—Kuroo shook his head—”I thought we decided that I was in the right about that.”
Unbelievable. “You brainwashing the blonde isn’t the triumph you think it is.”
Kuroo squinted, confused. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”
Fuck; Tsukishima couldn’t believe he’d just done that. Despite drinking being behind his poorly-thought out retort, he sighed. “Just pour me a glass, would you?”
Kuroo smiled. “As you wish.”
Standing there, Tsukishima couldn’t help but feel a bit bad. In front of him, Kuroo, who he’d essentially initiated an impromptu roast of, was happily pouring him a glass of ridiculously expensive wine—and out of his own pocket at that. Damnit, the man was ridiculous, but he was also a saint.
“I’m… sorry,” Tsukishima mumbled.
Kuroo hummed and set down the bottle. “What was that?”
Fucking hell. “Nevermind.”
“I’m pretty sure you said—”
“I didn’t say anything,” Tsukishima cut off.
Kuroo handed Tsukki his glass—who took it in his hand—but didn’t let go, keeping the latter in place. “You wouldn’t have said nevermind if you didn’t say anything,” he pointed out.
Tsukishima shut his eyes and sighed. Why did I do this?
“Now,” Kuroo continued, but in a lower and less dressed tone, “it sounded to me like you were apologizing.”
“Maybe I was…” Tsukishima trailed off.
“Well firstly, I accept,” Kuroo began, “and secondly, what the hell for?”
Out of order, much? Tsukishima huffed; one of the things about being in a relationship that he’d always struggled with was knowing when to cut the snark and take things seriously. It took a lot of trust to be able to lift that barrier—to open himself up to such vulnerability. He only wished that Kuroo could let him get it over with.
“Are you going to pretend I wasn’t an ass to you all night?” Tsukishima asked.
“Tsukki…” Kuroo shook his head. “D’you really think everyone having a great laugh makes you an ass?”
God; Tsukishima didn’t get how Kuroo could be so understanding. He hardly felt deserving of it.
“Well… hmm,” Tsukishima stopped, needing to think about what he was going to say. “You’re not mad?”
Kuroo pursed his lips and looked up and down. “I mean… you put me on blast, sure—but… heh, what good is it if we can’t make fun of each other?”
It was reassuring to hear, although Tsukishima couldn’t fully be sure. Another thing that haunted him was the voice in the back of his head that told him that people were just telling him things to make him feel better. He knew Kuroo wouldn’t lie to him, but it wasn’t easy to get that voice to shut up.
“You really don’t think I’m a jerk?” Tsukishima asked.
Kuroo sighed. “Tsukki, would a jerk care so much if I was okay?”
“I guess not,” Tsukishima said, finally satisfied. He shook the glass. “Can you let me go now?”
Kuroo’s expression softened. “Sure,” he said and pulled his hand away, “but wait up, won't you?”
Tsukishima felt like he was on borrowed time. He couldn’t fraternize too much alone with Kuroo without arousing suspicion. Kuroo was pushing it, but… fine. Tsukishima waited as Kuroo poured himself a glass.
“Cheers,” Kuroo said and clinked their glasses together. “To consumer rights!”
Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”
Kuroo laughed him off and returned to the group. Tsukishima hung behind, sipping his wine—which, wow, lived up to its price—while watching Kuroo hop right back into charming everyone with his casual charisma. Tsukki didn’t know how he did it, but Kuroo could never stay down for long.
Drooping his head, Tsukishima smiled—subtle but genuine. Perhaps not everything needs a neat explanation. He just had to accept what he knew to be true: Kuroo was a great—but ridiculous—person.
