Chapter Text
The storm outside finally starts to quiet down, and the group trudges back inside, dripping snow all over the floors. Everyone heads toward their assigned rooms, Hinata and Kageyama to Hinata’s, Bokuto and Akaashi to the guest room, Oikawa and Iwaizumi to the couch, Yaku and Lev to the pull out bed in Kenma’s office, and Kuroo and Kenma… well, Kenma’s room.
Kenma drops his wet jacket on the chair and sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the mess of snowflakes and damp socks scattered across the floor. Kuroo leans against the wall, shrugging off his coat.
Kenma clears his throat.
“Uh… do you… want to talk about what happened… behind the tree?”
Kuroo freezes for half a second, then grins, walking toward him.
“You mean… the ‘strategic positioning’ incident?”
Kenma doesn’t answer, just tilts his head, watching as Kuroo steps closer. He backs up slowly, until his back is against the wall. Kuroo stops, just inches away.
For a moment, it’s silent.
“…Kenma,” Kuroo starts, voice low, “I—”
Kenma blinks. “You—”
Words stumble out, awkward and rushed, sentences cut short. Kuroo reaches out, brushing a snowflake off Kenma’s shoulder. Kenma swallows, heart beating faster, but doesn’t move.
And then, just as the distance between them disappears, and their faces are inches apart… the door swings open.
“Uh—hey, can I borrow a blanket?”
It’s Yaku. He freezes in the doorway for a second, glances between the two of them, sees nothing but two guys standing in the room, probably talking, and then shakes his head.
“Never mind,” he mutters, backing out.
The tension shatters like ice. Kenma exhales slowly, Kuroo lets out a tiny groan. Neither says anything.
Kenma drops onto the bed, pulling the blanket over himself. Kuroo follows, lying down beside him, careful to leave a respectful gap. They lie there quietly, the room warm and safe, snowstorm forgotten outside.
No words are exchanged. No explanations. Just the two of them, breathing, letting the night settle around them. And maybe… that one look behind the tree lingers in the back of both their minds.
Morning comes slow, pale light filtering through the curtains. Snow still coats the ground outside, sparkling faintly under the weak winter sun. Inside, the apartment is quiet… except for the faint groans and shuffles of people waking up.
Kenma stretches under his blanket, glancing at Kuroo, who's still asleep, sprawled across the bed with an arm draped carelessly over the edge. Kenma tilts his head, debating whether to wake him or just let him sleep. He decides on just leaving him.
Down the hall, in Hinata’s room, the subtle warmth of a shared blanket has Kageyama’s hands holding Hinata’s as he sleeps. Hinata murmurs something incoherent, snuggling closer. Kageyama shifts just a bit, tucking the blanket over both of them without waking Hinata, his own heart fluttering quietly.
Meanwhile, the chaos of breakfast preparations starts elsewhere. Lev is complaining about cold cereal, Bokuto is negotiating syrup rights with Akaashi, and Oikawa and Iwaizumi are bickering over how many pancakes are “too many.” Kuroo stirs, groaning, and Kenma finally decides it’s time to move.
“Morning,” Kenma mutters, sliding out of bed.
Kuroo blinks awake, stretches, and immediately leans a little closer, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Kenma notices, but says nothing, simply reaching for his socks. Their movements are quiet, careful, almost synchronized without effort.
Kenma pauses near the window, looking out at the soft snow. Kuroo leans against the wall beside him. He doesn’t touch him, doesn’t speak, just watches quietly. The space between them hums with everything they didn’t say last night.
“Coffee?” Kenma finally asks, breaking the silence.
Kuroo’s lips twitch into a lazy smile.
“Yeah. I’ll take it black.”
Kenma snorts softly. Kuroo watches, eyes crinkling at the corners, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just them.
Meanwhile, down the hall, Hinata stirs and murmurs something again, and Kageyama instinctively tightens his hold on his hands before letting go, careful not to wake him. The gesture goes unnoticed by anyone but himself, but the warmth lingers.
Kenma pours the coffee, Kuroo leans back against the wall, and for now, that’s enough. No words about the tree. No awkward confessions. Just quiet, just them, just… normal.
And maybe, just maybe, both of them are thinking about the snow, the fall, and the way the other looks when they’re this close.
Outside, the snow keeps falling. Inside, a different kind of warmth slowly spreads.
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