Chapter Text
“Well, well,” a dramatic breath, “ well . What do? We have here? Kyou-bro, you finally asked your little setter boyfriend on a real date?”
Wait . ‘Finally’?
How does he kno- Yahaba shakes the thought away. Over the weeks of getting to know Kuroo, he isn’t one bit surprised that Kuroo had seen through their shabby disguise.
Probably even from day one, if Yahaba is being honest with himself.
But still...did he really have to make that comment now ? It hasn’t even been a second since we walked in the door, Yahaba bemoans internally, already resigning himself to a night full of embarrassments. Vaguely, he registers how fancy the interior of the shelter looks for this event, all glowing lights and clothed tables.
Kyoutani’s grip tightens around Yahaba’s wrist and he shuffles ever-so-slightly closer, and Yahaba’s heart jumps. Cute. “Do you ever shut the fuck up, Kuroo?”
Amused, Yahaba takes over, twisting his wrist out of Kyoutani’s grip just to turn it around and properly interlock their fingers. He doesn’t turn to watch Kyoutani’s reaction, but he hears a sharp inhale, and practically feels a surprised stare boring into him.
Yahaba looks Kuroo in the eye and smiles, saccharine sweet. “He did, actually. I assume you’ve done the same with your little setter?”
Kuroo’s eyes widen a fraction, fleeting surprise crossing his dark pupils before they relax into something close to satisfied pride. “Wow. My congratulations to the two of ya, then.”
Yahaba smiles again, nods, and waits.
“As for your question, Yahaba, I am in fact here on a date with Kenma.” Kuroo glances around, and upon finding nothing, sighs affectionately. “Though he’s probably hiding in a corner somewhere on his phone.”
Unsurprised, Yahaba nods. He opens his mouth to reply, looking for a way to politely excuse himself and Kyoutani from Kuroo, when Kyoutani abruptly speaks up.
“Wait, what the fuck, you two’re dating?”
Kuroo offers a magnanimous smile, mischievous glint in his eye. “You didn’t know? My, how oblivious.”
At that, Kyoutani sputters and fumes in silence, while Yahaba fights back a snort. “I told you,” Yahaba mutters under his breath, unable to resist, but Kyoutani hears him anyway and elbows him. Judging from Kuroo’s increasingly amused expression, the Nekoma captain had overheard as well.
“Can’t fucking believe it.” Kyoutani huffs.
“You really had no idea?” Yahaba has to ask, still a little incredulous that Kyoutani could possibly have missed the hints. Even in the limited times that Yahaba had been able to watch Kuroo and Kenma interact, while it was strictly platonic (they were in a professional setting, after all), there were clear signs of intimacy beyond the friend status.
Once, while they were all on their lunch break, Kenma had wandered over to where Kuroo was sitting and perched himself directly on his lap without even glancing up from his phone. Kuroo had looked completely comfortable with the action, too, and merely began to make tiny braids in Kenma’s hair. The whole scene was so disgustingly domestic and made Yahaba’s heart ache so bad that Yahaba had nearly drawn blood with how hard he bit his lip to keep from yelling, “not fair!”.
Yahaba remembers glancing over at Kyoutani, then, to find him watching the same scene with a blank stare.
Kyoutani shook his head, glaring at Yahaba. “You could’ve said somethin’.”
Yahaba would have thrown his hands up if it didn’t mean letting go of Kyoutani’s hands. But it does, so he merely widens his eyes in a disbelieving stare and shakes his head violently. “I did! Like ten times! You didn’t believe me!”
“Like hell!”
“Literally twenty minutes ago I said-”
“Now now, it doesn’t really matter.” Kuroo steps in, hands out in a placating gesture. “Point is, Kenma and I are a thing, though it was pretty ambiguous until recently.”
Kyoutani grunts, and gives a grudging, “congratulations, then.”
“Thanks,” is Kuroo’s easy reply. Then, with a feline smirk, he says, “Well, I won’t interrupt your first date . Enjoy, lovebirds.” With that and a turn of his back, he’s gone.
“He really has a special...vibe, doesn’t he?” Yahaba comments, fighting the blush on his cheeks.
“Slippery bastard vibe.”
Yahaba snorts. “Shut up, you like him, I can tell.”
“...Still a slippery bastard.”
Smiling, Yahaba dismisses the comment and starts to walk deeper into the venue, eyes sweeping the room in awe. The animal rooms haven’t been touched, but the rest of the shelter is decked out, complete with ambient lights, streamers, banners, candles, and bouquets. “So what is this whole thing about, anyways?” Yahaba asks.
Kyoutani takes a second to step closer, catching up with Yahaba’s increasing pace. “Slow down, we have the rest of the fuckin’ night to see this shit. And it’s fundraising for the animals.”
“I know that much,” Yahaba huffs, and slows his pace. Kyoutani’s right, after all. No need to see everything within the first ten minutes. “But is it like, an auction--”
“The fuck, Shigeru, what would they auction?”
“I don’t know, the animals?”
“It’s a shelter, you can get the animals for free .”
Yahaba throws his hands up. “Okay, obviously not an auction, but like, who’s the intended audience here? Big companies? Why would it matter that we’re here, huh?”
Kyoutani holds a hand out, halting Yahaba in his tracks. Yahaba’s taken aback before he sees Kyoutani reach out to the table they’ve stopped in front of and pick up a few sheets of paper-- oh, they’re name tags. “Here.” Kyoutani says, shoving one of the papers into Yahaba’s chest.
Taking it, and finding his own name, Yahaba feels the need to fill the silence. “Wow, I even get a personalized sticker,” Yahaba remarks under his breath for absolutely no reason . It comes out vaguely sarcastic, but he doesn’t mean it to be.
“Wow.” Kyoutani parrots, deadpan.
“Sh-shut up, I’m nervous, okay?” And he is, his palms are sweaty and he has a phantom itch at the back of his leg that he knows he wouldn’t be able to itch through the thick fabric of the suit.
Kyoutani glances at him, golden eyes thoughtful. “...Me too. But, uh. Don’t be.”
Yahaba smiles, and retorts with a light punch, “Easier said than done.”
“Yea.”
They step away from the name tag table, thanking the volunteer behind the booth as they do. Well, Yahaba thanks her. Kyoutani just offers her an awkward jerk of his head.
“So I guess we’re here since we’re volunteers? But I’m not an official one, so that wouldn’t make sense… ” Yahaba continues his previous question, thinking aloud as he continues to peruse the tables, more slowly than before.
Kyoutani stops, so he stops too, just in time to catch Kyoutani giving him the stink eye. “Stop overthinkin’ it already.”
“Wha--” Slightly offended, and put off by the sudden aggression, Yahaba stops walking. Did he say something wrong again? “I was just curious!”
Sensing Yahaba’s apprehension, Kyoutani huffs and turns his head away. “Sorry. ‘S just...you’ll see, alright?”
Yahaba’s about to open his mouth to protest against more secrets, but as if on cue, the lights flare bright, and the speakers around the room begin to blare.
“Welcome everyone, and thank you all for coming to the shelter’s fundraising event.” Protest forgotten, Yahaba and Kyoutani turn to glance along with the crowd, towards the clothed stage at the front of the room. A lady in a knee-length blue gown brandishes a microphone, and Yahaba vaguely recognizes her as one of the managers that stopped in once or twice during Kyoutani’s shifts.
“First and foremost, we give our gratitude to our gracious sponsors, Mike and Ike, as well as...”
Yahaba crinkles his nose and leans closer to Kyoutani. As he does, he feels the warmth emanating from his body and smiles a little. He’s sure that his own body isn’t nearly as warm. “Mike and Ike? Like the candy?”
Kyoutani turns to look at him and their noses nearly brush. Startled, Yahaba leans back a little. “Uh- What, no. The dog treat manufacturer.”
Yahaba crinkles his nose even further. “I’m never eating Mike and Ike again.”
Somebody next to them makes a shushing noise and Yahaba shrinks back, whispering a random apology. Kyoutani glares in the direction of the noise, but shuts his mouth anyways.
“..And I would also like to thank our amazing volunteers, who pour their hearts, energy, and time into helping more animals find a home. They are also the ones that made this event possible, so let’s hear a big round of applause for them!”
And because Yahaba would never pass up an opportunity to embarrass Kyoutani, Yahaba grins and starts to clap like a madman. Immediately, the spiker glares at him in embarrassment as he continues gleefully, and the spokesperson begins to list off the names of each volunteer.
Once she announces Kyoutani’s name, Yahaba lets out a loud, obnoxious cheer and punches his partner in the arm with gusto. “That’s you, you dumbass jerk!”
“The fuck-” Kyoutani hisses, clutching his arm.
He glares, but Yahaba can see the repressed smile and, well...his eyes are positively glowing.
“Last but not least, we want to thank our generous donors, from order of greatest to least donation.”
She starts to read, and Yahaba tunes out, because the names are completely foreign and honestly, irrelevant to him.
As the syllables blend together, he starts to think about other things. Things like, isn’t it crazy how his impression of Kyoutani went from this gruff tough guy to this soft-hearted shy guy, and isn’t it crazy how this soft-hearted shy guy actually likes someone like Yahaba.
He thinks about how he’s actually slightly grateful to Takashi, in a twisted, twisted way, for being a means of getting closer to Kyoutani.
He thinks about Oikawa, too, and the complicated role that Oikawa takes on as his senpai, someone that Yahaba admires, and strives to learn from, but also envies, and feels inferior to. He thinks about how he used Oikawa’s personal feelings, his life, so different from Yahaba’s, as an excuse to run from his own.
He thinks about how far he’s come— has he come a long way? Has he come any ways at all? How can he know, when self-improvement is such a fickle thing to measure?
And then he shakes his head, because god, does he do a lot of thinking. Too much thinking, and he’ll probably never change that about himself, but—
“Yahaba Shigeru, 10,000 yen. Matched to 20,000. Thank you for your service.”
Yanked out of his thoughts, he’s suddenly listening again, his senses chasing after the words just fallen.
…What?
Over the roar in his ears, he turns his head, hoping to understand, as his brain struggles to process his own name, up there, and that number, that sum.
10,000 yen.
Why, it’s the same sum that he offered…
Kyoutani is stoutly not looking at him.
He’s looking away, his ears are tomato red, and Yahaba knows exactly what happened.
For a few seconds, Yahaba just stands there. He doesn’t even think. He just stands, and feels. Tears up a little bit, and swallows down the lump in his throat.
He should have known. He should have guessed, by now, that Kyoutani would never act in any other way than selflessly, for the service of what and who he loves.
Yeah. This…it all makes sense.
There isn’t a more perfect way to use that money.
There isn’t a more perfect person than Kyoutani.
Another wave of emotion rolls through his gut, and his throat clenches, so instead of saying something, he steps forwards, red nose and watery eyes, and reaches out, barely having time to see surprised golden eyes before he’s crushing himself into Kyoutani’s body.
Kyoutani stands stiff for a moment before relaxing, practically melting with relief. His arms come up, hesitantly and awkwardly, around Yahaba’s waist, grip so light Yahaba can barely feel them.
Careful. Always so careful with Yahaba.
So Yahaba buries his head deeper in Kyoutani’s neck, tightens his arms, and hopes that all the feelings he doesn’t know how to express reach Kyoutani, anyways.
And for once, Kyoutani speaks first.
“I- this event is volunteers and, y’know, donors only.” He clears his throat, and the motion shakes Yahaba. “I thought you’d wanna come, ‘s all.”
Kyoutani can pretend to downplay what he’s just done all he wants, but Yahaba knows it’s all a bluff. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to just how thoughtful and caring Kyoutani is deep down behind all the fronts he puts up.
Yahaba snorts a little, murmurs, “You’re so stupid.” But it comes out so warm, so full of love , that the impact is effectively lost.
Kyoutani just hums, contentedly, and Yahaba revels in the embrace for another second before stepping back slowly, self-consciousness seeping back into his peripheral. He shakes off the lingering glances that people around them are giving him and Kyoutani, and tries to focus back on what actually matters. Who actually matters.
He waits for Kyoutani’s eyes to stop darting around, and to meet Yahaba’s. His gaze is skittish, but determined.
So Yahaba gives Kyoutani his best smile. Not the blinding one he reserves for the first years when they need encouragement, and not the dull one he plasters on for his teachers. Not the sarcastic one, not the melancholic one. Just...pure sincerity, from the bottom of his heart.
He says, “Thank you, Kentarou.”
And Kyoutani smiles back.
~
Later, on the car ride home, Yahaba leans his seat back and curls up quietly, eyes fixed on the setting sun, tucked away behind the mountains just far enough to create that sunset magenta hue.
“Is this real life?” He murmurs, thoughtlessly.
After all, the color is so breathtaking it seems fake. A constructed lie, born from reality’s desire.
Just like he and Kyoutani had been, not even a week ago.
“ ‘Course it is.” Kyoutani replies, straightforward and short. “‘S real, Shigeru.”
The way he says ‘it’s real’, almost sounds like ‘surreal’.
But Yahaba is coming to learn that what is real can be surreal. His fingers, wrapped around Kyoutani’s palm, feel surreal. The faint ache in his cheeks, from smiling too much, feels phantom and strange. The weight of his heart, impossibly light, lighter than it’s ever been.
I finally made it.
No, he thinks. That sounds wrong. Incomplete.
We made it.