Bokuto/Kuroo, Laundry
“Bokuto.”
“Yeah man?”
“Look. You know I love you, right? But you’ve been wearing that shirt for three days and if you don’t change it I am going to exile you.”
Bokuto looked mildly affronted at the declaration. “Dude, it’s fine, I haven’t gotten it dirty yet!”
Across the room, Kuroo wrinkled his nose. “You wore it running yesterday! I can smell you from over here.”
Bokuto pouted. “It’s not that bad!” As if to demonstrate, he raised an arm and sniffed at his armpit. And abruptly turned green.
“You know,” he added faintly, “you might have a point.” He tugged the shirt over his head (Kuroo took a moment to admire the view) and threw it vaguely in the direction of his bedroom. Then he looked at Kuroo with a very familiar expression.
“No,” Kuroo said. “Whatever it is, no.”
“C’moooon. Can I borrow a shirt?”
“What the hell, Bo, wear your own shirt!”
“But mine are all dirty!”
“So wash them!”
“I don’t know how!”
There was a silence, and then a slow grin started to spread across Kuroo’s face. Bokuto’s turned pink in a preemptive response.
“What’s this, what’s this,” Kuroo started.
Bokuto screeched. “Don’t you use your scheming captain voice on me!”
Kuroo continued, undeterred. “You mean to tell me that Bokuto Koutarou, top-five spiker extraordinaire and grown-ass man --”
“I’m only eighteen.”
“-- has never washed his own clothes in his entire life?”
“...shut up.”
Kuroo drew himself up to his full height, clasped a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder, close his eyes, and shook his head slowly. “Dude. That’s so sad.”
Bokuto tried to elbow him but Kuroo dodged it and landed a loud kiss on Bokuto’s cheek. “Luckily for you, in addition to being totally sexy, your boyfriend is generous and kind and knows how to do laundry, and will --”
“Do it for me?” Bokuto broke in hopefully.
“Absolutely not. But I’ll teach you to do it yourself. You manchild.”
“Rude.”
“You love me.”
“Ugh.”
*
“I still can’t believe you made it all the way to university without knowing how to do laundry,” Kuroo said a few hours later, muffling his renewed burst of laughter in Bokuto’s freshly-washed shirt. It smelled like Kuroo’s own laundry detergent mixed with the overly-musky scent of Bokuto’s favourite deodorant and the slightly salty one of Bokuto’s skin, and overall Kuroo was quite pleased with the effect.
Bokuto pinched his side, and Kuroo yelped. “You can stop making fun of me any time now,” he groused. “And unlike someone, at least I make the bed in the mornings. Uh. Sometimes.”
Kuroo shrugged. The sheets rustled under his shoulders. “It’s just gonna get messed up again, what’s the point.”
“Yeah…”
“But you know.” Something changed in Kuroo’s voice, getting deeper and slyer and sending blood rushing around Bokuto’s body. “I think I liked you better earlier. Without your shirt.”
Bokuto grinned, excitement flashing through him. “Oh yeah?”
“Mmm. Let’s… revisit that.”
“Is this gonna happen every time we do laundry?”
“Bo. Stop ruining the moment and take your shirt off.”