the art of loitering , kuroo x gn!reader , 2.1k words , fluff
by all means, the night had technically ended three times already.
once after the dinner, when kuroo insisted that he’d walk you home and you didn’t have the heart (or the desire), to tell him no. then, outside the corner of the restaurant, where you tried to do the polite thing and send him away, only for him to whine about you bruising his sense of chivalry. and once in front of your house, where neither of you had quite managed to let go of the night—still talking, still lingering, and still very much not saying goodbye.
it had been a lovely night. honestly, it had been a lot nicer than you’d expected.
dinner had been easy, conversation had flowed, and he’d walked you home even though he very obviously could’ve just called for an uber.
you suspected it wasn’t entirely out of gentlemanly manners, as something in the way his steps had slowed as your street came into view told you he wasn’t in a rush to reach the end of the evening.
you’re both standing in front of your door, the porch light whirring faintly above you. it’s late, and the hush of the street only makes the world feel more intimate; everyone has politely stepped back to give you and kuroo this one, fragile moment to yourselves.
neither of you move to end it. you have your keys in your hand, thumb brushing the edges while his hands are shoved into his pockets, shoulders angled toward you even though he keeps shifting his weight by rocking back and forth on his heels because he’s unsure if he should be leaving or not.
the shadows pool gently around the fence line, a shade of deep blue that makes everything seem softer. somewhere, a branch creaks, a moth flutters lazily past the bulb, and yet everything else feels impossibly still.
the air is cool, carrying the faint scent of night jasmine from the neighbor’s garden. it clings to the edges of your jacket the same way the distant hum of traffic, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the soft shuffle of kuroo’s sneakers against the concrete does.
you don't think you'll be able to wear this jacket again without thinking about this moment.
and kuroo—oh, dearest kuroo—he doesn’t fit into the serenity of the night, not really. the stillness feels too pale beside him, too composed for the kind of warmth that pulses through his every breath. he’s all restless energy, with too much affection aching to spill into the narrow, tender space between you.
his presence feels almost kinetic, an intense energy that unsettles the calm night around you; the shadows seem to bend toward him, and there's something implausibly gentle in the way his gaze settles on you—steady, searching, and reverent all at once.
he keeps glancing at you, then quickly away, like he isn't sure if looking too long will make him explode. you can see it in the way his fingers twitch in his pockets, as if he wants to reach out but is too afraid of breaking the fragile spell the night has casted around you.
“um…” he begins, voice low, hesitant. he clears his throat. “i—uh—”
you tilt your head, waiting, enjoying the way he fumbles. it's infuriatingly endearing, the way he can be so confident with the rest of the world but unravel completely in front of you. he’s so composed everywhere else—always sure of himself, all easy charm and clever remarks. there’s something gratifying about it, really. power, but in the softest, most ridiculous form.
it feels like watching someone unlearn the art of composure.
“i just—well…” he lets out a short laugh when his voice cracks slightly, and then coughs, trying to smooth over the small, human imperfection of it. his eyes flick to yours, uncertain if you've noticed and wondering maybe if he pretends hard enough, then it didn’t happen. regardless, you did notice, but you spare him the mortification of addressing it. “tonight was really good."
the admission seems to surprise even him; he looks down, bashful, scuffing the toe of his shoe against your step.
“yeah,” you agree softly. “it was.” your hand brushes the hem of your sleeve, something to do with the nervous energy that doesn’t know where to go. you can feel him watching you.
and it’s almost funny, how two tiny words can make the whole night feel like it’s still to bear fruit.
he looks up, eyes hopeful and gleaming. you can’t help it; you grin. he really doesn’t make it easy not to like him.
he’s so easy to read it’s unfair. you feel it in the pit of your stomach, that dangerous little ball of electricity that says you’re already gone for him.
“like, top ten nice?”
you laugh, which only seems to make him more frantic to explain—words tripping over each other as they all fight to escape first. kuroo is a mess of nerves and grace, and you find yourself wanting to let him talk forever.
"no seriously! it was really good—great, even! that's why it's in my top ten dinners of my life.”
you arch a brow teasingly, both amused and charmed by how hard he’s trying to save face. “what? i only made it to the top ten?”
“well,” he launches in, waving one hand as if he’s mapping out a chart, “i had this really good bowl of ramen in osaka once that set the bar pretty high, and then there was my grandma’s cooking for my 12th birthday, which was a life-altering experience. that woman knows her way around a kitchen.”
he pauses, thinking for a moment and you can see the gears grinding in his head like a hamster on a tiny, furious wheel. "and then… okay—nevermind, you’re definitely in the top three.” he scratches the back of his neck, eyes looking to yours for a split second before darting away.
you almost want to tell him it’s okay, that whatever nonsense he’s trying to explain is perfect, but instead you just watch, enamoured, letting the small, imperfect moment stretch out.
it should be silly—him rattling off senseless rankings like this—but his nervous energy is infectious, tugging your smile wider and making your heart grow warmer.
you tilt your head questioningly, biting back a grin. “so i'm losing to ramen and your grandmother?”
“well, my grandma's unbeatable, obviously,” he defends immediately, hand flying up in justification. “but ramen’s negotiable. i could easily bump you higher, especially if there’s dessert involved. do you bake?”
you shake your head, and he groans dramatically. “okay, fine. still top three. and that’s a very competitive list, i’ll have you know.”
you let the corners of your mouth twitch like sunlight brushing over calm water, stopping it before it fully blooms. “i’ll take top three.”
the tightness in his shoulders loosens, a small exhale escaping him without thought. when he speaks, his voice is careful, afraid that the night, or you, might slip away if he’s too loud. “i really did have a great time. with you. you’re—” he stops, flustered, then blurts, “—funny, and smart, and you made me forget that i was nervous half the time, which was a miracle.”
the way he tries so hard to seem confident and fails spectacularly, makes you want to reach out and smooth over every inch of his nerves with your fingers.
you swear you can almost taste the faint scent of the evening flowers.
“you were nervous?” you ask, bewildered and completely oblivious.
“obviously. i mean, look at me.” he gestures down at himself like his whole posture is enough evidence for the fact. “i've been standing here trying to work up the courage to leave for the past 25 minutes.”
you smile, warmed by the honesty underneath the joke. he shifts closer, just a fraction, and you can see the way his eyes flick to your lips before darting guiltily away. he clears his throat.
“you really looked… beautiful tonight.”
you palms are sweaty. “you don't have to say that—”
“i’m serious,” he interrupts, earnest this time. “i don’t know how you didn’t notice everyone staring when we walked in. i wanted to tell them all to look away, because—” he says quickly, and then makes a face. “okay, that sounds really possessive out loud. but you get it.”
you do get it. you get it in the slight flush that climbs his neck, the slight furrow of his brow, and the way his eyes flutter to yours every 5 seconds, seeking validation, reassurance, or maybe just mercy.
the snort escapes before you can stop it, a tiny betrayal of your perfectly calm façade, "i appreciate the sentiment."
he smiles—one of those stupid, nervous smiles that makes your chest flutter in excitement.
“i should…” he motions vaguely toward the street again. “go. before i say something else stupid.”
sure. because everything he says is always a little stupid, a little sweet, and a little hopeless not to love.
the space and sound is thick with everything unsaid, with the possibility that he might lean forward, that you might close the gap, that something might change right here, at your front door.
“kuroo?”
that draws his eyes back up to yours, startled but optimistic. he blinks, trying to tether himself to reality—or maybe just to you. “yeah?”
you don't let yourself think too hard about the way your chest tightens at how uncharacteristically unsure he is.
kuroo, who always had a quick remark ready, who could make light of anything—was stumbling over his words in front of your door, not because he didn’t know what to say, but because he cared too much.
so before he can spiral further, you're leaning in, letting your lips graze the warm plane of his cheek to press the quickest, softest peck.
you can feel the warmth blooming on his skin under your lips.
the movement is almost imperceptible, a soft punctuation in the undisturbed night, but it freezes him completely. his jaw slackens, his eyes stare wide in confusion, and every thought he was about to speak evaporates like mist.
poof. gone.
everything shrinks down to that delicate brush of skin, and he is utterly, joyfully undone.
you wonder—if only a second—if he is breathing at all.
“thank you... for tonight,” you whisper, smiling, voice a little shy now too.
it takes him a moment to recover, but when he does, the grin that breaks across his face is completely unguarded and boyish in a way you’ve never seen before. he touches his cheek, still dazed, and laughs, almost disbelieving.
the world contracts into that golden pool of light on your porch, the night around you fading into insignificance. in that suspended space, kuroo looks at you like he's been holding his breath all evening—and can finally, finally, let it all out.
you almost feel sorry for him, but the stunned, flustered, and giddy way he looks at you is priceless.
“you—uh. wow. okay. yeah.” kuroo laughs under his breath, a tiny, tremulous sound that makes you realise that nothing in the world could possibly be as intoxicating. his breath hitches, chest rising and falling faster than it should, “that just jumped you straight to number one.”
“i’m ranked above ramen now?”
lips curl. slow. mischievous. heart hiccups. “oh, easily. top of the list. you’ve dethroned my grandma’s roast beef. don’t tell her.”
the sound hits the air first, then your shoulders, then somehow your stomach, shaking you from the inside out. your fingers grip the edge of the porch railing, your head tips back just slightly, and you think that maybe this is the whole point. “she’ll be crushed!”
you notice him, tongue catching on his teeth, a tiny flash of panic or awe in his eyes—reacting to your laugh in a way that makes it feel bigger than either of you.
“she’d understand,” he replies solemnly, before breaking into another smile.
he backs away slowly, reluctant, dragging his feet as though leaving is a punishment, still grinning so wide it looks like it hurts. “goodnight. and… thank you for everything. you have no idea how much this meant to me.”
“you’ll have to show me on a second date then,” the answer emerges softly, like a note released into still water. it whispers past your lips, tentative but insistent.
that sends him stumbling over his own feet with a laugh, but he recovers quickly and nods, eyes shining. “i will. believe me, i will.”
you slip inside, heart racing, and lean against the door. through the wood, you can only just faintly hear him still laughing to himself on the path.
and when your phone buzzes a little later, his name lighting up the screen, you already know exactly what it will say.
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