in which kenma is annoyed, copious amounts of alcohol is mentioned, and kuro is fucking late.
Glancing at the clock out of the corner of their eye, Kenma sighs to themself. The bar's beginning to become crowded, and the target is only half-drunk. Things are much too slow for Kenma's liking.
"You look a bit thirsty," Kenma says, softening their voice into something that can pass as a purr under the haziness of the dim bar lighting and the alcohol already in the man's system. "Why don't I buy you another drink, hm?"
"Aw, aren' ya nice, l'il lady?" the man slurs, leaning over slightly, showing his teeth, and unfortunately, his smelly breath. "Ya been buying me drinks all nigh', I migh' think yer up ta a l'il something something wi' me, eh?"
Kenma uses all the patience they've garnered over the years with one Kuroo Tetsurou and just barely avoids flinching backwards at the unpleasantness that is all of this man beside them. They've always hated engaging directly-and at such close distances-with the target, and this is the epitome of a bad time. Normally they wouldn't mind dressing up and carefully painting their face, but having to do it for someone as disgusting as this, in a place as sleazy as this, no one can blame Kenma for hating every minute of it. The cigarette smoke and sour beer smell probably won't even wash out of this dress. Kuroo owes them a new dress.
Hopefully their reinforcements are coming soon. They should be here soon. Because if they aren't, Kenma is not going to be held responsible for any broken bones.
His, not theirs.
"Here, drink up," they murmur, waving down the bartender for the fifteenth time that night. They watch the colour on the man's face rise, glancing at the clock once more. Kenma pushes drink after drink, persuading more names and numbers out of the man until his speech is so muddled and slurred they can't make out any coherent words anymore.
When the man begins to leer a little too close and starts to become handsy, Kenma is just about ready to call it a day, job be damned. They push back on the stool, hands clenching the man's wrist in a painful manner. But before they can do more than glare at the man blubbering in their hands, a familiar voice rings out from behind them.
"I thought we agreed to do this in a quiet and non-violent way, Kenma."
Kenma turns slightly. "Kuro. You're late."
"Sorry, kitten. There were some complications with the other one." Kuroo signals to the other two with him, Kai and Yamamoto, to grab the target. He steps up to Kenma, inspecting them carefully. "He didn't do anything to you, did he? Not that I doubt you could handle him, kitten."
Kenma shakes their head. They allow Kuroo to brush a hand through their hair, done up and held back with clips and pins, courtesy of Lev. Reaching up, they hold Kuroo's hand in their own, looking him in the eye.
"Let's go home, Kuro."