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Kenma wishes he could blame it on the alcohol. He really does.
“Oi Kenma, you still up to play?” Fukunaga asks. Team bonding, they call it. Their semi-regular get-together at one of their houses whenever they can manage to get someone’s parents out and the liquor in.
Normally, drunk people are a solid nine out of ten on the scale of annoyance, only topped by certain middle blockers. But today, Kenma can’t exempt himself from this, it’s already too late to save his soul it seems. One too many trust-me-bro drinks do that to you, courtesy of Kuroo’s.
Kenma plops down next to said designated drink-maker in the circle that naturally formed on the suspiciously unmarked carpet, closing the last gap. Lev, barely blinking, brims with excitement. Kenma doesn’t bother suppressing the eye roll. Kuroo nudges him in the side. He leans down, closer to Kenma’s ear, and whispers, “Now, isn’t that sweet? All wide-eyed and hopeful.”
Kenma snorts. Kuroo gives Lev too much credit, he’s probably just trying to keep still after the sugar rush he must be still experiencing, judging by the impressive amount of cookies he’s still consuming.
Fukunaga explains the basic rules of paranoia once again for the first years. They’ve been put on a not-so-strict “just beer” policy no one intends to enforce. They’re gonna be fine. And if someone throws up in Kenma’s vicinity….
“Alright, let’s begin.”
“No Kenma, you cannot skip your turn just because you don’t like the question.”
Torture.
These guys are playing torture games for fun.
(Otherwise called Paranoia)
“I can and I will.” All eyes blink rapidly between Kenma and Kuroo, probably hoping for divine intervention. Yaku, who sits right to Kenma, badly suppresses a grin. Usually, he can do better than this but Lev’s constant one-upmanship couldn’t go unchallenged. Kenma would’ve preferred to watch from a safe distance, though now smacked right in the middle of it.
Warm breath tickles from his heated ears down to his neck when Kuroo speaks. Shivers spread down Kenma’s back as he swallows tickly, forcing his focus on Kuroo’s words so he doesn’t have to repeat himself. The music in the background doesn’t make it easier, though it hopefully covers his racing heartbeat.
“Don’t be shy, maybe the person doesn’t take a drink and you can keep your little secret.” Kenma turns his head, disbelievingly glaring to convey what his tongue won’t. Kuroo chuckles. “Or maybe he will and you’ll have to give up some private information about yourself for once. These guys probably won’t remember by tomorrow anyway.” Kenma looks once around the circle.
Lev and Yaku, on opposite ends of the circle, are currently starring in a staring contest. Yamamoto is screaming at both of them (encouragingly?) and Fukunaga is taking a video. Kai is watching, sporting a bemused expression and the rest of them are either waiting for Kenma to proceed or preoccupied with their own conversations. Kuroo is probably right. The warm buzz in Kenma’s system is bound to agree, dulling worries and loosening his tongue. Kenma grabs his drink and takes a long sip, breathing out controlled and slowly, and looks around the circle, assessing how much damage any one rumor could do. He feels himself giving in, the feeling or regret so distant in his mind he can’t quite recall, not enough to persuade him anyway.
“There you go,” Kuroo says, “Besides, I really want an answer to my question.” Kenma flips him off before clearing his throat. Kuroo chuckles while taking a sip of his cup, it’s emptying more and more rapidly. Kenma doesn’t have half a mind to tease him about it, lost in musing about the paranoia question he so desperately doesn’t want to answer.
If you had to do the Battle Of Wills Challenge with anyone here, who would it be?
God, how he hated the rising popularity of social media among his friend group. Suddenly, they had become aware of trends and challenges, one, in particular, had been making the rounds recently. Battle of wills, they had called it. As if the name made the premise any less embarrassing. The idea of not kissing someone for however long being considered a challenge seems stupidly easy to Kenma. Just the staying-in-their-face part was what kept Kenma from proving to everyone how simple it was to win. And yet, playing it (or at least talking about wanting to) had become the new thing once a certain level of intoxication was reached. With varying results, might one add.
...who would it be?
As if there was any question.
(Kenma has no problem with lying but lying to yourself can only work for so long.)
Kuroo is a certified asshole for asking that one. No matter who Kenma answers, the person most likely will drink and then this new horrendous game will be on everyone’s minds, so their current game (which was itself questionable at best) would be overturned in favor of the internet monstrosity. Great.
Except… Kenma probably wouldn’t mind doing that challenge with anyone here (save the ever-pestering exception) since he knows nothing would come of it, it’d just be awkward for a minute or so and then they’d move on. But there may be one way to avoid it altogether.
“Kuroo,” Kenma exclaims confidently. Kuroo hides behind a well-timed cough, Kenma is not sure to which extent it’s real.
“Well?” Yaku presses. “What will it be, Kuroo?”
Obviously, Kuroo knows the question so there’d be no point in drinking to find out. Bringing up the Challenge will be avoided and disaster might strike another day. If that is, Kuroo follows the plan Kenma has laid out neatly in his slightly off-balanced head.
“You know what? I think I’m gonna drink anyway.”
“Kuroo…” Kenma warns.
“Go on, tell ‘em what the question was.” Kuroo leans back on his hands, arms straight and sharp eyes focused on Kenma. He’s way too smug for Kenma’s liking.
Kenma clenches his teeth and speaks through them, not breaking their almost hostile eye contact. “He asked who I’d play the stupid Challenge with if I had to.”
Yamamoto is the loudest in the “Uhhhh” and “Ahhhhh” crowd.
“Right! We still wanted to play that game so we might as well…” And miraculously, the attention is mostly kept on the prospect of the new game and off Kenma’s answer. Only Yaku nudges Kenma with his elbow, a bit too firmly.
“Uhhhh Kenma. Is there something I should know of? I’m sure you had The Talk already but—” Kenma shoves Yaku to the side and takes his empty cup when he jumps to his feet, swaying slightly.
“Yeah no, definitely not gonna have this conversation with you right now.” And off he is to the kitchen, filling the stolen cup with whatever he can find. A clear liquid makes it into red plastic, he doesn’t care to elaborate on which variety.
When he creeps back into the living room, the circle has spaced out more around Yamamoto and Fukunaga, currently in an ongoing Challenge. The others are partially watching, some have turned away though, a bit unpleasantly touched by their closeness and sudden intensity. Their faces are just mere inches away from each other and most have probably never seen Fukunaga that out of his depth or Yamamoto that quiet. Even his cocky grin falters more with every passing moment. Kenma, unable to watch any longer, settles in his previous place and turns his back on the spectacle.
“You know, this could actually be more fun for you if you let it,” Kuroo chimes in. Kenma feels around in his pocket but remembers that Kuroo confiscated his console just as they entered his home. My house, my rules, he had joked. He had taken it anyway and replaced it with a drink shortly after to stop the complaining.
“Don’t know about that. Looks more uncomfortable than anything.” They both glance at the two second-years, still not moving away even as the timer begins ringing. Someone whistles and they break apart.
“Challenge completed, I suppose,” Kenma comments and takes the cup from Kuroo’s hands. The sugary taste of coke mixed with something stronger coats his tongue as he hands it back, he watches Kuroo mirror his movement. Kuroo’s lips settle exactly on the spot Kenma’s were mere moments ago. Indirect kiss.
Kenma’s eyes widen at the thought. He shakes his head, willing the rising heat in his cheeks away. Drunk thoughts don’t count.
There is some commotion before the next round, mostly because there is trouble deciding on who’s going next. After the spectacular first round, there are (to no one's surprise) no volunteers. Kuroo cracks his knuckles.
“Oh well,” he says. “Guess I’ll have to show y’all how it’s done.” Kenma’s eyes jump from Kuroo to the cup in his hands. Kenma takes a big gulp of his drink, trying to wash down the bitter taste in his mouth. Yaku pokes him in the leg sharply, and he flinches.
“What the hell, Yaku!” He gestures toward Kuroo with his head wordlessly, raising an eyebrow.
“No, absolutely not.” Kenma shakes his head. He stops nearly instantly, left with more dizziness than he anticipated. An absurd laugh bubbles in his chest, just under the surface.
“Uh-uh,” he reiterates when Yaku doesn’t falter. Their little discussion remains unnoticed in the drama that is deciding who’s going up against Kuroo. Apparently, the problem is not finding someone who’s willing to kiss Kuroo, it’s more so in finding someone who won’t do it one second into the game.
Kenma looks around the circle with an undefinable feeling when he sees the people around Kei nudging him on and laughing. Before he can think better of it, Kenma tumbles forward, into the middle of the circle, and announces his volunteering as gracelessly as he feels.
His breath comes too fast, hot past his lips. His throat feels dry despite the constant supply of liquid he’s consuming. He brushes a strand of hair behind his ear and pulls it free again as time drags on.
“Go big or go home wooooo,” Inuoka yells. He’s awakened from his trance, now sobering up with a big glass of water cupped in both hands. Oh what Kenma would give to have more of that in his system right now. Though, on the other hand, whatever happens now can be easily blamed on alcohol. No, he interrupts himself, there will not happen anything, so nothing will have to be explained away.
Kenma has not been paying particular attention to the music but he can’t ignore the irony when "Still into You" by Paramore starts playing. Kuroo moves to face Kenma, rapidly reducing the distance between them to begin the challenge. Like a reflex, Kenma pulls back out in one swift motion, sliding across the carpet wide-eyed.
“Wait no, I do have one condition. I won’t do it if everyone is watching.” Because that's just no.
Collective groaning ensues, and Kenma hears someone whisper that's what she said. Kuroo just crooks his head, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.
“Fine by me,” he says.
The protests intensify as Kuroo grabs Kenma’s hand to pull him toward the closest room, the one that happens to be Kuroo’s. Kuroo lets the door open just enough so one stipe of light illuminates the wall, plastered with posters he’s been collecting for years. He pulls out his phone and sets the timer, not yet pressing to start it. He settles on the bed, his legs crossed and gaze slowly moving up from the floor to Kenma’s eyes.
Kenma sits down quickly, feeling the blood from his hands drain and his fingers go slightly numb. His heart squeezes, his scalp prickles. He still hears the music playing outside the room. A few more moments of waiting and he’s going to chicken out of it, he can feel it in his core.
Kuroo sits before him, carefully constructed, seemingly effortless appearance giving way to something different. Kenma quite can’t put his finger on it but he notices the slightly drawn shoulders and unsteady finger hoving over the start button.
Kuroo clears his throat and speaks up for the first time since they’re alone. “Are you sure? We can just pretend we did it and wait for a minute here.” Worry mixes with anxiety, creating a swirl of brightly colored shades of fear in Kenma’s chest. Maybe Kuroo doesn’t actually want this, he could be just okay with going through with it for the sake of the challenge. Maybe he doesn’t want this, not in the same way Kenma does.
“I—,” Kenma breaks off. He watches his fingers pull on a loose string on his sweater. A warm hand covers his, breathing life back into them. He breathes out fully, noticing how shallow it was before.
“I’m not asking because I don’t want to, Kenma. I just wanna make sure you do.”
Kenma scrapes some courage together and locks eyes with Kuroo, barely making out some light reflecting in them. He nods once.
“I’m sure if you are.”
Kuroo smiles softly, a thumb circling the cold back of Kenma’s hand.
“Okay,” he says before pressing the timer and moving closer inch by taunting inch.
He raises a hand, grazing Kenma’s chin before placing it on his neck loosely, he probably feels him swallow reflexively. Naturally, Kenma moves forward abruptly and bumps his nose against Kuroo’s lightly, making both of them smile while taking some of the unpleasant anxious tension out of them. They’re left with tingling anticipation.
“Stop teasing,” Kuroo says breathily.
Kenma feels the whispered words on his lips and supplies his response. “What if I don’t?”
Kuroo moves forward and bumps their noses again intentionally, leaving Kenma’s heart racing with the sudden closeness and thinking that maybe… maybe Kuroo wanted this as much as he does.
His hands hang uselessly to the side so he uses them to shuffle, straightening his legs over Kuroo’s, allowing him to move even closer, their mouths hovering over each other. He reaches up, eyes in question, and Kuroo’s slight smile is all he needs for an answer. His hands tangle in black messy hair and a gasp (or sigh?) escapes Kuroo’s lips.
Kuroo’s hand moves to cup Kenma’s cheek, and he melts into the gentle touch, not so much spark as steady campfire warming him to his very bones. He feels Kuroo move closer, nearly closing the gap. But Kenma lets it linger, air ghosting over Kuroo’s lips as he jokes lighly, “Nope.”
Kuroo moves in again but Kenma, with the last of his restraint, barely keeps their lips from touching. He thinks he can feel them grazing ever so lightly, the thought makes the hand in Kuroo’s hair cling tighter. “Give me a kiss, Kenken…” Kuroo trails off. His thumb moves to caress Kenma’s bottom lip, and the tip of Kenma’s tongue flickers out and grazes the tip of Kuroo’s finger for just a moment, enough to make him stiffen.
“You little…”
Kenma smiles, relishing in the trembling breaths of the other. “You can just take it, you know?”
And with that, Kuroo closes the distance and sighs into the kiss. Kenma pulls him even closer by the neck, already craving more, craving being even closer. Kuroo places one hand on the small of Kenma’s back and pulls them together, his arms circling Kenma completely. Kenma’s legs, previously loosely draped over Kuroo’s, are angled now, itching to fall into place in Kuroo’s lap. Kenma’s shoulders drop and he sighs, relishing in the warm all-encompassing feeling around him, the new sensations raining down on him like a tropical storm.
Kuroo tilts his head and Kenma mirrors it, their kiss deepening and finding a rhythm. Kuroo’s tongue brushes against Kenma’s bottom lip, his nerve endings screaming for more. Kenma parts his lips slightly, letting their tongues brush and sending both of them panting. Kenma moves to sit in Kuroo’s lap, Kuroo’s arm cages him in and his neck tenses from the upward angle it holds but he couldn’t care less. The want in him not dulling with the passing moments but catching fire, risking to burn every safety net down he’s ever laid.
They’re pressed flush against each other, the longing and looking and wishing finally released in soft gasps and half-formed words. Somewhere along the lines of a whispered you better not forget any of this the timer rings and Kuroo presses it away as if he planned to all along. Kenma smiles against his mouth, a teasing remark already on his lips.
He hears someone clear their throat loudly. Kenma separated from Kuroo with a wet sounding plopp and stares at the door, mind so dazed he isn’t yet able to be mad at the interruption.
“So, the timer already went off and the others are having a field day with this already.” Kuroo’s hand tightens to a fist in the fabric of Kenma’s shirt. Kenma leans his head on Kuroo’s shoulder and smells the laundry detergent that reminds him of sunny days spent in the garden with a volleyball and nights before a TV screen.
Kuroo presses a kiss to the top of Kenma’s head and he melts, hiding his face in Kuroo’s collar. How can he be like this? Kenma feels like exploding.
Kuroo clears his throat and replies with a carefully slow tone while stroking up and down Kenma’s back in comforting circles, anticipating how his brain is about restart and drown him in more thought than he could ever need.
This, however uncertain it is, is what Kenma hasn’t ever dared to imagine in earnest. And yet he’s sure no make-believe could ever come close to how much he doesn’t want this moment to end. After the footsteps recede, Kuroo doesn’t attempt to push Kenma off. They simply sit in silence, drawing out their moment for just a little longer. It’s stolen time.
“Spend the night?” Kuroo asks.
Kenma nods. “Yeah, I’d like that.”