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The sun beats down on them on their way back from the convenience store, the courtesy of Tsukishima being the only team captain who can’t seem to win a game of rock-paper-scissors to save his life. Kuroo offered to go with him because the amount of time they get to spend alone during the training camp is short and far in between practice and much-needed sleep (and because he gets to sneak in a few snacks for himself, all for which Tsukishima whipped him with a glare).
It’s a minute before they reach Nekoma High when Tsukishima’s question comes.
“I’ve been wondering for a while, but is that real?”
“I assure you my good looks are one hundred percent real.”
Tsukishima brushes off the smirk and teasing, and points his index finger at the back of Kuroo’s neck. “I was referring to your tattoo. It’s moving.”
Kuroo brings his hand to his neck and scratches the sun-kissed skin there. The tattoo he got last summer – a trail of tiny cat paws from the tip of his spine down to his mid-back where it disappears at the curve of his hipbone – has a tendency to appear alive as if a mischievous kitten is truly walking all over his back as it pleases. Though, nobody’s noticed it. Until now.
“You can see it?” Kuroo asks, casting a glance behind him only to find that the paws have taken a casual stroll from his neck to his shoulder, gradually disappearing under the strap of his sleeveless shirt.
“Yes,” Tsukishima confirms.
“That’s a first.”
They pass through the gate of Nekoma High and head towards the gyms where a crowd of hungry teenagers wait to devour contents of three convenience-store bags. Kuroo notices the slight hesitation in their step, like they’re trying to delay their return.
“Don’t dwell on it too much,” Kuroo says because Tsukishima’s persistent eyes are still fixed on him in search for answers. It has Kuroo sweating for reasons other than the mid-summer heat.
“The list of illogical things about you just keeps getting longer.”
Kuroo scoffs. “You keep a list?” He bumps their shoulders lightly. “But do elaborate, Tsukki.”
Tsukishima bumps his shoulder back. He wouldn't have done so two years ago but every year he returns to Nekoma as someone new – as a winner, as a second-year, as a captain – and Kuroo can’t keep getting caught off guard or else he is never going to win this.
“Well.” Tsukishima thinks for a second. “Aren’t college and a part-time job stressful? How do you have time for this every year?”
“It’s not about having time. It’s about making time.”
“Really? After three years you’re giving me a generic answer?”
“Haven’t I always been so kind and responsive?”
Tsukishima shakes his head in exasperation but his lips show a sliver of a smile. And it’s enough. Lifting up one of the bags, he says, “We better get this to the omnivores over there.”
“By all means.”
The next day, Kuroo stands by the court, watchful eyes scrutinizing various plays and techniques.
“Lev, watch your feet!” He chastises and Lev grants him a sour grimace before he heeds the instruction.
By his side, Coach Naoi laughs, arms crossed over his chest as he stands next to Kuroo and observes the practice. “Thank you for coming this year too. Your presence always boosts their morale.”
“It’s a pleasure to be here.”
Nekoma is a home. Nekoma’s volleyball team especially. A part of him will always be inside of this gym; in the bleachers, the net, the smell of sweat and the scrape of shoes. After his retirement, Coach Nekomata has told him: “I know you will keep an eye on them now and then. It’s who you are.” And he was right. He has been back two years in a row now, all in order to watch and guide and inspire.
Also.
Tsukishima runs over to his bag and grabs a bottle of water. His match with Fukurodani - much less rowdy now with both Bokuto and Akaashi gone - ended with Karasuno’s win. He leans on the wall and watches his team engage in camaraderie with a few Nekoma players. He rolls his eyes exasperatedly when Hinata jumps to put Lev in place but Lev lifts his hand above Hinata’s head and effectively stops him.
Kuroo walks over to him and mimics his position.
“Sawamura Junior is looking at me with huge puppy eyes,” Kuroo says. It is the first thing that comes to mind. When his eyes scan the gym, he finds Sawamura’s younger brother flexing his fingers and then lifting his head to look at Kuroo. He is quick to look away again.
“He idolizes you, Kuroo-san.”
“Good taste right there.”
Tsukishima shrugs and takes another sip of his water. Kuroo watches his throat move.
“Karasuno has hit a winning streak these past three years,” Tsukishima says. There’s no complacency in his voice, he’s speaking clear-cut facts. “But most second and first years feel a lot of pressure that comes with us third years leaving.”
Kuroo allows himself the minutest feeling of pride at the way Tsukishima speaks; with concern, with thought, like a true captain.
“That’s normal. Third years always leave big shoes to fill.” Kuroo says so from experience.
Tsukishima’s gaze slides to Kuroo’s face, his lips curving in a tiny smile. “Could it be that you had a hard time filling somebody’s shoes, Kuroo-san?”
“Ah. Now you’re just teasing me.” He gives Tsukishima a playful nudge. Then, he pushes himself off the wall. “I’ll assist your baby crow a bit.”
“Thank you.”
Guiding Sawamura’s brother is an odd experience. He listens and utilizes what Kuroo shows him quickly but he forgets just as fast. He’s what Hinata would be like if he were in a constant state of coffee deprivation, eager but sluggish. He thanks Kuroo under his ragged breath – with a little noticeable flush – and leaves for the day.
Tsukishima approaches Kuroo moments later, his bag tossed over a damp patch on his shoulder where Lev’s water bottle landed when he hurled it at Hinata – and missed.
“Now I have adopted two crow sons,” Kuroo tells him, grinning and trying to look presentable with sweaty fringe clinging to his forehead.
“I’m sure Daichi-san will be overjoyed to hear that.”
“Don’t tell him, please.”
Tsukishima laughs the kind of effortless laugh that leaves Kuroo mesmerized and at a loss for words.
“I’ll think about it,” Tsukishima adds.
They leave the gym among the last, when most of the equipment has been put away.
“You’re wearing short sleeves today,” Tsukishima says.
“I wouldn’t want to distract you anymore than I already do.”
Kuroo knows he’s pushing it. But he wants this to either break so he can bury it, or endure so he can pursue it. Tsukishima doesn’t say anything for the short stretch of their walk away from the gym. Kuroo loses count of his erratic heartbeats.
When Tsukishima speaks next, his eyes are on the ground underneath him rather than at Kuroo.
“Come with me for a while.”
This is it, Kuroo thinks. Tsukishima is going to grab his by the shirt, shove him into the first shadow he can find and kiss the confession out of him first. Kuroo would let him. It’s no surprise there’s a little haste in his step as he keeps pace with Tsukishima.
They end up at the main building where Tsukishima approaches a vending machine, feeds it a couple of coins and it spits out a chocolate bar in return. He offers it to Kuroo.
“As thanks for helping Sawamura.”
Kuroo huffs a helpless little laugh and plants his palm over his face. “How frustrated am I?”
“Kuroo-san?”
Kuroo shakes his head, takes the candy bar and tucks it away in his pocket. “Thank you, Tsukki.”
Tsukishima regards him with a curious tilt of his head but he doesn't probe.
This is it. The thought is different in tone this time. It’s over. Tomorrow, Tsukishima will go home and Kuroo will have wasted three years row to give voice to his feelings. He’s hit a pathetic combo and his reward is regret.
Unless.
“Hey, Tsukki.”
“Hm?”
“I’ll text you tonight. If you’re awake and not too tired, meet me?”
Tsukishima gives a silent nod.
Kuroo sends a brief text around ten thirty, which isn’t too late, but late enough for a bunch of exhausted teenagers who fall asleep the moment their heads hit the pillow. He has made himself cozy on a blanket behind the gym where lights from the football field slither towards the school. He has brought a bag of cookies and two milk boxes with him.
Tsukishima occasionally texts him late at night and complains about being unable to fall asleep so Kuroo has brought snacks that would put even the most restless of babies to sleep. Kuroo chuckles because he can imagine Tsukishima’s cringe if he were ever called a “baby”, the gentle bob of his golden hair as he tosses his head back and the incredulous narrowing of his keen eyes.
Barely 5 minutes pass when Kuroo is pulled out of his daydream as he spots a tall figure emerging from the shadows into the light, crossing the distance between them in a few long strides. Kuroo watches, terrified and in awe at Tsukishima’s growth spurt and how easy and comfortable he looks in his skin.
“Thanks for coming.”
“I couldn't sleep anyway.” Tsukishima sits down so that the bag of cookies and milk are between them. “I was looking up information on moving tattoos.”
Kuroo runs a hand through his hair, heaving a lazy groan.“Does it really bother you that much?”
“It’s alive.” The disgruntlement in Tsukishima’s voice clearly comes from his inability to accept the unexplainable. Which is odd considering Tsukishima has been dealing with a great deal of unexplainable, Bokuto and Hinata surely make the top of that list.
“Well, did you find something?”
“No. I did find some interesting facts, though.”
Kuroo picks up a milk box and hands it over to Tsukishima. “Drink and tell me.”
Tsukishima stabs the box with a straw with what are likely the remains of his frustration from the lack of information to come out from his little Internet search. He says, “I found 3D tattoos. They look real because they use light and colour to trick the human eye into thinking they’re jumping off the skin.”
He breaks his mini-rant in order to take a sip of milk. “But nothing on moving tattoos. Well, of course not. They’re not real.”
Kuroo breaks into a fit of laughter, holding onto his stomach for his dear life while Tsukishima watches him, biting into his straw in an attempt to down his milk all at once.
He’s done laughing sooner than Tsukishima finishes drinking the milk. He allows silence to permeate the space where his voice used to be. Behind the rim of his glasses, Tsukishima’s eyes are focused and shiny, something in them speaking in a language Kuroo has only started understand.
“You’re staring,” Kuroo points out, feeling himself growing restless under Tsukishima’s gaze. He chose to wear a sleeveless shirt tonight, with ulterior motive or not. The night air chilled him on his way over, but not anymore.
Tsukishima releases the straw from his teeth. “It’s just weird,” He reasons, his voice a breathless whisper. “Even you should be able to acknowledge that.”
Kuroo pushes the feeling in his stomach down when he says, “Want to touch it?”
“May I?”
“Go ahead.”
Tsukishima sets the milk box down and sweeps the bag of cookies aside so he can crawl closer, pushing himself up on his knees and tilting Kuroo’s head towards the light with the tips of his fingers only. A few shaky moments pass before Kuroo feels pads of rough fingers trail tiny shapes into the skin of his back.
Tsukishima’s index finger touches Kuroo’s first vertebrae and travels west where most of tattooed paws prefer to stroll. He applies pressure to various places on Kuroo’s right shoulder and always lingers just a millimeter too close to the strap of his shirt.
A soft hum of laughter leaves Tsukishima’s lips. “If I put my finger down, they walk around it.”
Kuroo casts a glance over his shoulder, momentarily stunned at the delicate curve of his mouth as he looks at none other but Kuroo. “I do think it’s weird,” he says. “And I don’t mind.”
“You should mind,” is Tsukishima’s immediate response.
“But I don’t. You’re finally looking at me.”
“I’m always looking at you.” The quality of Tsukishima’s voice is different now, sugary and revealing.
“Yes,” Kuroo says. “For volleyball reference.”
“For volleyball reference,” Tsukishima repeats and Kuroo can’t tell if it is a confirmation or a question.
“I think I like it.”
Tsukishima’s mouth disappears in his palm, shying away from the attention. The hand that is on Kuroo’s shoulder trembles with each breath he takes. It is all evidence that Kuroo needs.
“Yes.” And his lips curl into a smile. “I definitely like it.”
Without a word, Tsukishima’s fingers ghost over Kuroo’s shoulder blades, making their travel across the top of his shoulder to the base of his neck where they bury themselves in Kuroo’s hair.
Kuroo shivers under his tentative touch.
“Do it,” he says, licking his lips. Tsukishima’s eyes follow the flick of his tongue.
“I’m afraid to ruin what we have.”
“Ruin it.”
Kuroo says it like it’s a dare and expects Tsukishima to hesitate in the face of the unknown territory—except he doesn’t. His palm slides to Kuroo’s cheek, tilting his head up just enough to kiss him fully on the mouth. Kuroo forgets sometimes that Tsukishima no longer does things half-assed.
Tsukishima’s mouth tastes like milk and Kuroo drinks him up; Tsukishima lets him do it.
Desires he has kept at the periphery of his mind now come into focus. He wants to make himself a home at the base of Tsukishima’s spine. He pulls Tsukishima closer and trails his fingers over the fabric of his shirt, mapping exactly how he’d do it. He swallows Tsukishima’s sigh and marvels at how Tsukishima’s nails feel when they dig into his hair.
“Hm,” Kuroo murmurs and pulls away, content, as Tsukishima puts some space between them. They do just this, breathe for a while. The lack of another’s body warmth leaves eruptions of goose-flesh on Kuroo’s skin but it’s a pleasant sort of longing.
Kuroo fills the dazed silence by reaching for the discarded bag of cookies. When he tears it open, he offers it to Tsukishima. Tsukishima takes a cookie but doesn’t eat it.
“See, nothing’s ruined,” Kuroo reassures, watching Tsukishima’s lashes fall and lift over his eyes in slow motion. He leans into the boy he’s been dancing around for years, tugging at each other’s sleeves and pretending they didn’t notice.
“The glass is always half-full for you, isn’t it.” It’s not a question but Tsukishima turns to him with a smile that looks a lot like an answer.
“Bottoms up, Tsukki.”
And they kiss again.
The last day of the training camp, Kuroo searches for Tsukishima next to the Karasuno bus but can’t find him anywhere. There is only Hinata threatening Lev that he’s in the 170′s now and it’s only a matter of time he catches up to Lev. His math is so off that Freckles grimaces and uses Kageyama's shoulder as a means to facepalm. Tsukki is nowhere to be seen.
Just as Kuroo’s frustration has reached its peak, he feels a pair of lips press into his shoulder. They linger, briefly, and then they are gone.
“The paws scattered,” Tsukishima says, eyes fixed on Kuroo’s tattoo.
Kuroo grins knowingly. “Tsukki. Has this become a thing for you now?”
Tsukishima gives a noncommittal shrug and his hand comes to brush against Kuroo’s. It’s just their knuckles that touch but the moment is ripe with the possibility of hand-holding.
“As I said,” Kuroo says. “I don’t mind at all.”