Bokuto/Kuroo, Birthday date
”I don’t know what to get him!”
Kenma sighs, softly enough that the sound isn’t picked up by the mouthpiece of his cell phone. “I’m not the one dating him,” he says, because apparently that’s his line in this conversation -- the same one they’ve have three times in the four days since Kuroo called in a panic Monday night because he realized he had no clue what to get his boyfriend for his birthday.
“Have you e-mailed Akaashi yet?” Kenma asks -- the next line in the script.
Kuroo makes a disgruntled noise into his phone and Kenma can easily picture him running a hand through his unruly hair, pacing around his little dorm room on socked feet.
”No. Asking for help is admitting defeat.”
“Then stop calling me.”
”Kenmaaaaa!”
Kenma sighs again, louder, this time, so Kuroo’s sure to hear it. “Get him something with an owl.”
”Yeah, but like, I got him that owl water bottle last week. And boxers a month ago. That’s not special enough. It’s our first birthday together! I have to set a precedent, here. It’s gotta be good.”
So anything volleyball-related is probably out too, then. Unless -- “Bribe Akaashi into coming to set for him,” Kenma suggests, as he wedges the phone against his shoulder and picks up his POP.
”Dude, no, I can’t get my boyfriend another guy for his birthday. That’s just wrong.” Kuroo sounds so genuinely affronted that Kenma finds himself smiling, and he has to readjust the phone against his cheek.
They sit in silence for a while -- comfortable, as always, even with the new distance of university and the faint air of frustration between them -- until Kuroo makes a disconsolate noise and says, ”I’m the worst boyfriend ever.”
Kenma just hums, and Kuroo squawks.
*
And that is how, come Saturday night, Kuroo still has yet to find a suitable gift. He resolves, instead, to treat Bokuto the The Most Awesome Birthday Date Ever, complete with ignoring their homework, extra volleyball practice, Korean barbeque, and a few energetic hours in Kuroo’s bed.
He still feels intensely guilty about the lack of an actual gift, despite Bokuto’s extemporizing on what a great birthday he’s had, and it finally bursts out of him when they’re taking a break and snuggling in a tangle of bedsheets.
“I’m sorry,” he blurts, and Bokuto shifts to blink at him with big eyes.
“For what? This is great.”
Kuroo gives into an impulse to kiss the underside of Bokuto’s jaw, and Bokuto practically purrs, tilting his head back and letting his eyes fall half-shut. “For not getting you a present.”
“What? Dude, no, don’t worry about it.”
But Kuroo does worry about it. “I just, nothing seemed special enough. And I love you, a lot, so I wanted to get -- Bo?” he interrupts himself, because Bokuto’s just made a sound like a squashed bird.
His voice is small but high and eager when he says, “Do you really?”
“Huh?”
“You know,” Bokuto waves an arm, narrowly avoiding slapping Kuroo’s chin. “Love me?”
“Oh.” Kuroo catches the flailing hand and squeezes it. “Yeah. Of course I do.”
He’s about to say something else, but then Bokuto rolls bodily on top of him and squashes their mouths together for a hard, wet kiss. He pulls back, just a bit, so their noses touch, and Kuroo feels the words against his lips and in his heart when Bokuto giddily says, “That’s all I wanted.”