Sports Drabbles: Volleyball

Kuroo feels a little out of place, in his new Earth Kingdom greens, but it’s safer, this way. Still, even without his uniform, he’s paranoid of being recognized, of being jailed or executed or dragged back and… punished.

He’s not the first-ever Fire Nation Army deserter, which takes a bit of the pressure off of him, presumably. Because nobody cares about the fourth deserter, right? Nothing special about fourth place.

He still sees his face on Wanted posters, scattered throughout the Earth Kingdom, and he surreptitiously removed and burns every one.

It’s safer if they don’t stay in the towns, and Kuroo has always felt more comfortable in the wild, anyway. He’s just contemplating how he should go about constructing their cookfire -- because no matter how many times he looks around and sees no signs of life, he always wonders what if somebody is watching. Not that he particularly minds making a fire the more traditional way, but, well… he’s just not very good at it. He desperately wants to snap his fingers but every time he goes to do it, he freezes up.

Cheerful whistling drifts to him on the wind, and Kuroo perks up. Finally.

“Tetsu, my man!” Bokuto calls with typical exuberance as he rounds a boulder. His arms are laden with supplies -- waterskins, a few pots and pans to replace the ones they’d lost in that flash flood, and enough food for a veritable feast. Kuroo zeros in on a giant mackerelpike fillet and he rubs his hands together in unconscious glee. He has to sternly remind himself not to steal it right out of Bokuto’s hands and throw it on the fire.

Except they still don’t have a fire. It’s just a carefully-assembled pyramid of kindling and sticks.

Kuroo gestures at the would-be firepit. “Bo, if you don’t mind?”

Bokuto grins and cracks his knuckles, and he crafts a perfect little stone pit and grill around the collapsed pile of sticks. “Oops.”

Kuroo’s already hastily picking them back up, and he distractedly tells Bokuto not to worry, before lowering his hands into the relative safety of the low rock walls and clicking a fire to life. He wills it bigger, hotter, and wastes absolutely no time in rubbing spices over the fish and placing it carefully above the red flames to cook. Immediately, the mouthwatering scent fills the air and Kuroo breathes it deep.

It’s been a very long time since he’s had mackerelpike. It smells like home. The good parts of home.

Bokuto bounces up beside him and sits back on his heels, then leans until Kuroo tips over and Bokuto falls on top of him. He giggles and kisses Kuroo’s cheek.

“Your favourite, right?” he says eagerly. “I had to get it for you.”

Kuroo wraps his arms around Bokuto’s waist and thinks about how happy he is, here, lying in the dirt in traitor’s colours, with the most wonderful person in the world. The person who he gave up his world for, and he knows he’d do it again in a heartbeat. He moves his hands up to Bokuto’s shoulderblades and pulls him down for a proper kiss.