#sugakuroo

[indigo-to-hell]

get PBFRVT-ed

[vivasimplemindedness]

For the prompts meme, 23 or 43 for Kurosuga maybe? Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

23. “If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

43. “Well, this is a surprise.”

OUR SWEET SWEET KUROSUGAS

“If we get caught,” Kuroo breathes, “I’m - mm - blaming you.”

Suga giggles, which sounds partially like windchimes and fairies or whatever and partially like impending doom, if impending doom were muffled against the skin of Kuroo’s neck. Suga has to stand on his tiptoes to reach, and Kuroo’s bending down a little, but that doesn’t stop him from nibbling and sucking along Kuroo’s neck, drawing out surprised noises and groans as Kuroo gets worked up under his attentions. Finally, Kuroo’s frustrated enough to growl and claim Suga’s lips, kissing him hard. When he draws back, they’re both panting.

Making out in an empty storage closet like some shitty Harry Potter fanfiction. “Makes me feel young again,” Kuroo says aloud, hands sliding down Suga’s chest, hips, lower.

Suga snorts and thumps Kuroo’s shoulder hard enough to make him oof. “You’re eighteen.”

“I’m an old soul,” Kuroo is beginning to argue when Suga plants his hands on Kuroo’s shoulders and hops up lightly. On instinct, Kuroo catches him, and then they’re still for a moment before Kuroo grins down at him and takes two steps to the wall. Suga’s laughing lightly with exhilaration as his back hits the side of the closet, and even in the dim light, Kuroo can see the amused glint in his eyes.

Suga loops his arms around Kuroo’s neck, helping to hold himself up. Kuroo kisses him in earnest now - hands sliding up his t-shirt, tongue pressing in against his, Suga’s fingers wound tight and gripping the hair at the nape of his neck. When Suga shifts against him, Kuroo sucks in a shuddery breath, hips stuttering-

With a sudden creak, light from the doorway falls onto the pair of them. Kuroo freezes.

“Well, this is a surprise,” says Akaashi, so dry their voice practically crackles.

“What’s going on in there?” comes Daichi’s voice from somewhere nearby.

“There’s some bugs having sex on the floor,” says Akaashi. “I’ll get the broom later, it’s pretty disgusting.”

The door swings shut. One heartbeat passes, and then Suga is laughing, silently but so hard he’s shaking against Kuroo’s front. Kuroo slides down to the floor, groaning into his shoulder, and Suga laughs harder.

“It was Suga’s fault,” Kuroo later mutters to Bokuto, who is practically losing his shit every time he looks at him.

“Sure, bro.”

[slothesaurus]

ooohh for the prompt thing: #19 for Suga and Kuroo? :DDD

WHAT IS THIS GEM!!! I kind of gasped in surprised delight at getting this one lol. Never considered them but damn it got me excited. I admit I had a rough start with this and I’m still wondering if I could have done it better but I had fun imagining these two kids meeting underneath a shroud of flowers while talking about the freshness of fish. THE MODERN TOKYO LOVE STORY. 

Prompt Post | Prompt Fills:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4

If you’re wondering why my description of an early autumn day is lacking or odd, it’s likely because I live in a tropical country and have only heard of the pumpkin spice latte fairytales from the interwebs and I tried my best to be vague.

Some references since I don’t think I did justice with my descriptions. Pacific Saury and Mackerel Pike are apparently interchangeable terms for the same type of fish which has its peak season in autumn. Also, light research confirms that the flowers I used do bloom around autumn (Aug.-Nov.) in Japan.

Pergolas

Baby’s Breath (on overhead garden structures)

Japanese Morning Glories

Dianthus

Kuroo’s unparalleled knowledge on shopping for fish

Mackerel Pike/Pacific Saury, Grilled

NO I WAS NOT ABLE TO RESEARCH LEGAL PERMITS AND REGULATIONS OF SELLING HIGH QUALITY PRODUCE AND SEAFOOD INSIDE TOKYO WARDS, OK.

Thanks for the request! Please enjoy~

—

Lately, when the week is long and his legendary patience is short, Koushi likes to use his weekend to take a walk through the farmer’s market in the park near his tiny birdcage of an apartment.

He finds it by accident the first time. Head throbbing and hands cut up, a stripe of his forearm burned from leaning carelessly over a hot baking pan during his last class.

Tokyo, he remembers thinking at the time, is shy, of all things. Bashful and slow to unfurl its every corner to people freshly perched along gleaming branches of its steel skyline. The buildings are everywhere, concrete and glass curtains hiding secrets and stories from plain sight.

Koushi, on the other hand, is anything but shy. He parades through side streets fearlessly, ducking into hole in the wall cafes and eateries. He waltzes from crosswalk to crosswalk, eyes drinking in the neon haze of the nightlife. He spreads his arms up and out, nudging the city to give him room, polite but firm in every step he takes.

It’s been a couple of months since that first wrong turn into a vibrant nest of wood and leaves, grass neatly trimmed and guarded by old stone walls.

He passes them now, one gloved hand reaching out to pat the side of the entryway column in a familiar greeting, other gloved hand playfully swinging an empty woven tote back and forth.

The park’s entrance leads straight into a wooden pergola with worn but thick columns, a wide open lattice crowned with a sea of baby’s breath spilling over the edges, beds of soil carefully hidden by skillfully fitted branches and twigs. The covered walkway runs all over the park, directing visitors to several larger pergolas housing several booths offering their wares.

Koushi smiles behind the fluffy charcoal colored wool wrapped around his neck, plump material of his scarf brushing over his lips and grazing his nose. He moves his hands to his back, fingers curling around the stiff bamboo handles of his tote as he slows his pace to admire the view.

There are other people heading in and out of the park along with him, flanked on either side by a waterfall of thin green and woody stems sprinkled with small, puffy snow white petals that flutter with the brisk morning breeze. The sun is soft as it peeks through the thicket of flowers above them, painting the dirt path and everyone on it with spots of warmth.

Koushi looks up, finding a spot between the grid of wood where the baby’s breath is thin enough that he can see a bit of Tokyo’s sky. He feels the sunlight pouring through the space hit his nose. It’s rare to have the sun out this much during this time of year.

He keeps walking, eyes watching the cloud of baby’s breath overhead gradually start to pepper with splashes of rich color, signifying he’s reached one of the market’s pergolas. His feet slow to a stop next to a smaller wooden column covered in morning glories, midnight blue with a light dusting of dewdrops that remind Koushi of the evenings back in Miyagi. He prods one blossom with a finger, watching it bob at the touch.

“Ah, welcome back, Sugawara-kun!” A gruff voice calls out to him.

Koushi raises his head, pulling a hand away from his tote to tug his scarf loose. His eyes crinkle at the sight of a simple wooden booth piled high with a wall of soybean products. A small, wrinkled face peeks out between two jugs of soymilk, beaming at him and crinkling their eyes back.

“Nakamura-nii,” Koushi’s lights up, smiles like a star to blind, and walks up to the booth to dip his head in greeting, “Restocked just for me, huh?”

The old man grins with a wheeze, wiggling his eyebrows as he humors the boy, “Naturally! I heard you coming and had my grandkids bring over some fresh goods.”

Koushi raises a brow and reaches out to adjust the old man’s lopsided felt hat fondly, “Such amazing ears you have for an eighty-nine year old.”

“I may be eighty-nine but my body’s as healthy as a fifty year old.” Nakamura-san snorts and bats the doting hand away. He juts his chin out defiantly at Koushi before disappearing behind a wall of bean curd snacks, joints cracking as he bends down to rifle through a freezer.

“Mmhmm, Koushi hums smugly, leaning an elbow on the small space left on the booth’s countertop, “That definitely sounded like a fifty year old’s bones for sure.”

Nakamura-san pops right back up, pressing a medium-sized block of wrapped silken tofu against Koushi’s unsuspecting face. His face falls, flinching back at the cold touch, yelping and almost knocking into a pair of women carrying a pot of olive branches away from a neighboring booth.

“Your usual, favorite customer.” Nakamura-san chuckles out with a warbling note of victory.

Koushi recovers quickly and moves back towards him, eyes squinting as he holds out his tote for the tofu, voice flat and unamused, “Thank you, favorite eighty-nine year old.”

Nakamura-san sputters, blowing air out through his nose and crossing his arms. He feigns displeasure and turns his head away, but despite the sour look on his face, one of his hands still moves to grab the traditional complementary honey-infused soymilk he sneaks into Koushi’s tote every time he comes for a visit.

Koushi eyes the small glass bottle in the man’s hand, stout and fat with a minimalist label of a tiny calligraphy soybean on it. He takes out his wallet for the appropriate amount of payment for both items when the dull thud of the soymilk being chucked into his tote makes him pause.

“On the house.” Nakamura-san scolds as per their usual script, making a comically threatening wide-eyed look at him then the bills still being counted between his fingers. It reminds Koushi of Tanaka.

He sighs, fingers shifting to pin a few less bills before pulling out the payment and slapping it on the counter, “One of these days, I’m going to pay you for everything I take, you stubborn old man.”

Nakamura-san waves him away, eyes crinkling as moves to sit down with another distinct crack of his joints, “Go spend your money somewhere else, you brat.”

Koushi beams at him and departs with a two-fingered salute. He turns on his heel to look for the small cluster of seafood booths down the path under another pergola surrounded by a moat of red and pink flowers.

—

Tetsurou yawns, hand coming up to cover his mouth as he walks away from the booth of spices and herbs. The leather of his gloves is getting pretty worn.

“Might be time to buy new ones.” He mumbles as his hand falls back to his side, slipping into the front pocket of his jacket.

He raises his hemp tote bag up for inspection, peering down at the ripe-looking apples resting under a tied bundle of cinnamon bark and a glass jar of sakura sugar (Kenma’s going to love the next incarnation of his apple pie and he’s a little too excited about it). There’s another folded hemp bag inside as well. He reaches in with his free hand and whips out the extra bag before hiking up the full one up on his shoulder.

Tetsurou perks up at the first sliver of color lounging at the feet of thin wooden columns. There is a river of dianthus planted around the area, petals fat, wide and corrugated in bright pops of pink and red outlined in a thick brush of white. It’s a stark contrast to the gentle and subdued hues of the baby’s breath draped overhead.

The scent in the air changes, saltier and with a hint of something ocean fresh. Unlike the other areas, the booths in this section of the market have rectangular wooden moats filled with water winding around a smaller rectangular frame of freezers before leaving ample space for the vendors sitting behind a wide wooden counter where a varying assortment of prepared seafood lie.

Tetsurou saunters up to one of the newer booths first, half of the counter stuffed with beautifully plated selections of sashimi with sides of pickled ginger and plums.

“Ohh,” Tetsurou hums out an impressed and excited noise, “Is that sea urchin?”

He points at the languid rich gold pieces spooning against each other on a bed of seaweed with a small clump of wasabi paste standing guard. The young woman behind the booth nods and holds out a hand invitingly, “It is! Go ahead and try some.”

Tetsurou manages one of his softest smiles, plucking a piece of sea urchin and dabbing it against the wasabi paste before letting it hover an inch from his parted lips. He looks thoughtfully at the booth’s moat, live sea urchins inhabiting the water peacefully. He pops the food into his mouth and inhales sharply at the first hit of the flavor. It’s light, freshness apparent as the sweetness melts on Tetsurou’s tongue with that signature briny flavor, rounded out by the spike of wasabi stinging his tastebuds.

He moans obscenely, slapping a hand to his chest dramatically, making the vendor in front of him raise her eyebrows and bite her lip to keep from snorting.

A few neighboring booths and a passing couple stare at him.

“What?” He breathes out to everyone with a satisfied sigh, shrugging with a happy little grin, “That was delicious.”

The comment convinces the couple to come closer and browse the booth’s products for themselves. The vendor looks pleasantly surprised, glancing over at him gratefully. Tetsurou winks at her before looking over the rest of the available samples.

“Just telling the truth.” He explains casually, whistling as he zeroes in on an attractive looking slice of blue marlin sashimi.

Someone makes an audible gasp somewhere a few booths over, voice smooth and light, “That is one gorgeous looking mackerel pike.”

Tetsurou’s head whips around immediately, hand still managing to pluck a piece of blue marlin from the plate without looking at it. He’s vaguely aware of the couple asking for a small order of sea urchins and something about a salmon but he can’t pay attention.

A few booths across from him is one of his favorite stores, specializing in mackerel pike and several different dishes that can be made from the fish. He’s probably dragged Bokuto, and several of his Nekoma teammates to it on several different occasions since university started as an excuse to catch up. Even Yaku, and that boy hates fish.

There’s someone standing in front of the booth’s moat, back turned to Tetsurou in a tight but warm looking black coat, charcoal scarf coiled around his neck. His pants are slim and black, ankle cut boots dove gray like the gloves clutching the bamboo tote hanging behind his back.

His hair, in contrast, is silver. The sides are cut short into a neat undercut, just long enough that if Tetsurou were to stroll over and touch it, it would probably still feel as soft as it looks. The top of his head is an artful wave of timberwolf spikes, fluffy and delicate like the petals of baby’s breath hanging above them.

“I’ll be right back.” Tetsurou says to the young woman, nodding his head politely as he heads over to the mackerel pike booth, sashimi still pinched between his gloved fingers.

He approaches quietly, hearing the tail end of the boy’s conversation with the booth’s vendor, Yagami-san, voice still smooth and light, laugh still the same tinkling echo of silver bells Tetsurou’s heard in the sweltering heat of a borrowed gym.

“Yes, it is the perfect time to have them grilled.” He hears him say, sure of that gigawatt smile and slight tilt of the head he’s giving that is sure to make Yagami-san duck her head and flush. “I kind of wanted to try making sashimi though.”

Tetsurou takes the opening, lips curling wide into an old smirk and canting a hip out for his hand to rest on, “Sashimi’s good, but personally, I think grilled mackerel pike is the best.”

The other boy doesn’t startle like Tetsurou hopes he would, simply stills and looks over his shoulder at him, hazelnut eyes regarding him quietly. His eyelids droop in consideration, taking him in carefully before the seam of his lips part to speak to him.

“Do I know you?”

Tetsurou’s smirk collapses into a subtle frown, reigning back the surprise his eyes no doubt give away. The strap of the tote on his shoulder slides off, dragging the bag of ingredients down to his forearm where the grip on his hip tightens stiffly.

“Um.” Tetsurou says after a moment of awkward silence, one hand on his hip with a bracelet of tote bags, the other up high near his head, still holding a sullen piece of blue marlin sashimi.

He peers closer at the other boy, eyes narrowing before hesitantly easing out, “It’s Kuroo. From Nekoma.”

The other boy doesn’t shift or give any indication of recognition. He blinks at him over his shoulder, eyelashes fluttering as he waits for further elaboration.

Tetsurou starts to feel a little helpless, eyebrows bunching up and mouth pursing, “Hey, come on, Sugawara…”

To his relief, Sugawara’s shoulders start to shake, head turning away and hands swinging the bamboo tote in front of him to laugh into. He lets out a long string of melodious giggles, face dipping into the bag’s wide opening.

Tetsurou’s jaw drops, face feeling annoyingly hot as Yagami-san presses a hand to her mouth, politely looking away as she fiddles with a display of grilled mackerel pike set out with small cups of rice and miso soup.

“Very funny, Sugawara.” Tetsurou admits, unamused as he takes a step closer to shove the other boy’s head deeper into his own bag. The hair on the sides of his head does, in fact, feel as soft as it looks.

Sugawara keeps laughing in his bag, moving away to face him, straightening up and grinning triumphantly. “Sorry, sorry, but you should’ve seen your face, Kuroo.”

Tetsurou removes the hand from his hip poke Sugawara in the chest, nudging the tail of his scarf away to press against the shiny black button of his coat.

“What a horrible way to say hi to an old friend.” He scolds with no heat, smirk already crawling back onto his face.

Sugawara bats his finger away and plants both hands on his own hips, turning away and sighing wistfully, “Sorry, but it’s just been a while since I’ve had anyone to bully.”

Tetsurou laughs, faint and pleased, his eyes close when it spills from his mouth, so he misses the way Sugawara’s eyes glance at him at the sound before darting back forward.

“Missing Azumane already, huh?” He opens his eyes and purses his lips, “I guess I do miss yelling at how crappy Lev’s receives are every now and then.”

Sugawara snorts, looking him up and down with a smug and amused smirk, “Who said anything about me bullying Asahi?”

Tetsurou’s face lights up, eyebrows raising and smile sharpening into an excited grin.

“No wonder Sawamura can endure anything.”

“It’s just the natural pecking order between old crows,” Sugawara explains carelessly, shifting to watch the mackerel pike wriggling in the water around the booth. “Asahi gets bullied affectionately by Daichi, and Daichi gets tortured by me. Way of life.”

Tetsurou nods once, mouth still smiling in amusement, “Uh huh.”

“Well, alright,” Sugawara concedes with a chuckle, “We both bully Asahi.”

“Affectionately.” Tetsurou clarifies.

“Very affectionately.” Sugawara agrees.

Tetsurou tilts his head in the other boy’s direction before making a curious noise.

He blinks at him, “What?”

“You look different.” He says back, stare pinned to the well fitted taper of his coat. Sugawara drags a hand through his hair in confusion, drawing Tetsurou’s eyes to that haircut.

“It’s nice.” He adds, mumbling like he’s in a trance, “Like something nice levelled up.”

A laugh, “You mean nicer?”

“Yeah.”

Sugawara’s eyes trace over him, expression somewhere between longing and annoyed.

“You look...exactly the same, but, taller.” He supplies lamely, thought not at all displeased. He looks from the boy’s leather boots, past the dark slacks and over the chocolate frock coat settled around him, gaze finally landing to the top of his head, hair still ridiculous and unforgettable.

He does a double take back down to Tetsurou’s raised hand.

“How long have you been holding that?” He asks with a nod to the sashimi limply hanging between his fingers.

“Oh.” Tetsurou says, looking at the sad piece of fish trying to slide out of his grip. “Just a bit.”

“You want it?” He offers, mostly out of habit whenever any of his underclassmen subtly ask him about the food he brought, eyes shining hopefully at his homemade bentos.

Sugawara raises an eyebrow but steps closer, bending forward to sink his teeth on to the edge of the sashimi, sucking the whole piece out of Tetsurou’s grip and standing back.

He chews, cheek puffing up where it is in his mouth, and Tetsurou spends a long moment staring at the slightly slick sheen on the tips of his gloved fingers where the fish used to be. Sugawara makes a happy hum as he swallows, licking his lips in satisfied realization.

“That’s really good blue marlin!” He compliments.

Tetsurou lowers his hand and shifts to leaning on one foot, tone impressed as he says, “That’s a pretty skilled tongue you have there.”

Yagami-san almost drops the fish she’s placing onto the small circular grill behind the booth.

“...For fish, I mean.”

Sugawara nods his head slowly and humors him, “Thanks, I guess. It does come in handy when I’m in class.”

Tetsurou tries not to make the sigh of relief he breathes out obvious, latching on to the change of subject, “Culinary, right?”

“Yup,” Sugawara confirms as he heads to the countertop, peering at the fresh mackerel pike available in baskets, “Hattori near Shibuya. You’re in Nittai, right? For Sports Medicine?”

“Yeah.” Tetsurou replies, watching Sugawara focus on the mackerel pike’s sizes. “You know…”

“Hmm?”

Tetsurou sidles up next to him, reaching out with his clean glove to hold Sugawara’s chin and direct it to another basket than the one he’s browsing through. “You can tell a good mackerel pike by how yellow their snouts are. The yellower it is, the fresher.”

Sugawara closes his eyes, eyelashes a dark crush against his cheeks, taking in the information quietly as he nods his head, chin still perched on Tetsurou’s fingers. He raises a closed fist and pounds it into an open palm, bamboo handle dangling from his wrist.

“Ah, I see, I see.” He says enthusiastically, opening his eyes again to catch Tetsurou staring at him with a thoughtful look, lips pursed and slightly parted.

“The eyes are also a good tell,” Tetsurou continues without missing a beat, still watching Sugawara who’s smiling at him with an odd twinkle in his eye, “The transparency of the eyes are important. If--”

“--If the eyes are red and muddy, then that’s not the one you want.” Sugawara finishes breezily, gently nudging Tetsurou’s fingers away and calling Yagami-san for three large mackerel pike with bright yellow snouts and clear eyes.

Tetsurou does similarly, asking for a couple of medium-sized fish and two large ones distractedly, still staring at Sugawara.

“Don’t worry, Kuroo,” Sugawara laughs, “I did my research.”

He shrugs at that, biting his lip before sliding close enough to bump his loaded tote bag against Sugawara’s, “Sorry if I sounded like I thought you didn’t know what you were doing.”

Sugawara’s expression seems to melt, eyes crinkling, something fond and sweet in the hazel of them staring at him. “Thank you for apologizing, but I know you just love your mackerel pike. I mean…”

Tetsurou tilts his head, small smile encouraging as the other boy nudges his bag back, “Paying attention to you was the whole reason I learned about it in the first place.”

He blanches, “Paying attention to me?”

“Back during training camp,” He reminds him as he reaches out to pay Yagami-san for the fish, taking the wrapped bundle and chucking it into his bag, “You were telling Hinata and the others about how to pick the best mackerel pike.”

Tetsurou nods as he pays and accepts his own order of fish, dunking it into his empty bag, “I did.”

“And then Bokuto cut in and started telling them how barbequed meat was better than grilled mackerel pike anyway.” Sugawara laughs at the memory, likely recalling how Bokuto had thrown Hinata over his shoulder and dragged Tsukishima away by the arm, lumbering off with them while Tetsurou jumped on to his back, making it difficult for the other captain to flee with his adopted kouhai.

“I remember.” Tetsurou says softly, warm at the thought of that summer before his voice shifts into something curious, hopeful, even. “I didn’t realize you were watching me back then.”

Sugawara pokes his nose with a finger, soft fabric of his glove making him scrunch it up as he points out, “Well, I wouldn’t have been very subtle if you’d realized it, would I?”

And then Sugawara’s breaking away, gracefully spinning off to another booth as he gives Yagami-san a two-fingered salute. Tetsurou gives a nod over his shoulder before trailing after the other boy, hand holding on to the other bamboo handle of Sugawara’s bag.

“Hey,” He says as he lets Sugawara steer them to a booth brimming with crabs and shrimp, “Come home with me.”

“I’m sorry?” Sugawara chokes out, tripping on his feet and almost falling forward into a bunch of angry looking crabs before Tetsurou uses their shared bag to tug him upright.

He curses himself inside his head, wondering why his mouth has to be such a two-faced asshole half the time.

“I meant,” Tetsurou sighs and splays his free hand up in the air placating, smile genuine, corners tinged with a sheepishness Sugawara can’t look away from, “If you’re free, you can come over and we can work on that mackerel pike sashimi you wanted to do.”

“Oh.” Sugawara says a little breathlessly, wisps of baby’s breath fluttering behind him as Tetsurou watches, holding his breath and gripping the bamboo handle until his knuckles turn white.

Sugawara dips his head, staring at the bursts of red haloed in white past Tetsurou’s feet, petals a few shades off from the kind of red he used to face across the court. He doesn’t lift his head to look at the other boy, only smiles where Tetsurou can’t clearly see, eyes crinkling minutely.

“Yeah.” He says, eyes lighting up in amusement at the breath the taller boy lets out, head tilting in encouragement for Tetsurou to take the lead, “I’d love that.”

They walk side by side after that, despite Sugawara insisting he doesn’t know the way to Tetsurou’s apartment, hands gripping the bamboo tote between them and tugging each other left and right like children.

“You gonna teach me some more mackerel pike tips?” Sugawara teases as he swings the bag between them.

“Absolutely,” Tetsurou insists, catching his eye to wink at him, matching the momentum of his arm, “I’m a pretty good teacher, you know.”