Unfortunately for him, Kuroo had greatly underestimated his challenger. The kid was good, making up for any lack of talent with surprising enthusiasm, and it didn't help that Bokuto kept increasing the speed either. He had been keeping up okay until they got to the bridge when he stumbled over, of all possible things, "N. Y. City, " and instead sang "N. Y. C. City."
The second he slipped up, he made a priceless face that he prayed no one had caught on film. Any remaining chance of playing it off so no one would notice was immediately squashed by Bokuto, who cut the music backing with a cliche turntable sound effect and a loud, "Oh ho ho, seems like we've got a winner, folks!"
Kuroo rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand, his eyes half lidded as he tossed his head back and chuckled sheepishly. "Looks like you got me, angelito mío," he said amicably, dropping his hand and shooting Tadashi a side glance. He might have been embarrassed that his serpent tongue failed him, but the kid was so cute he was amused rather than annoyed. His little nose sprinkled with freckles scrunched up, and Kuroo was satisfied by the flush that had taken over the tanned complexion of his official biggest fan.
"Kuroo," said a voice in his ear, a reliable yet slightly bothersome presence that Kuroo nonetheless loved. "You can wrap it up now."
Kuroo's expression didn't change as the message was relayed, but he looked up at Bokuto, locked eyes, and gave his head a small jerk. It was amazing how well they could read other, because the bulky DJ immediately signaled to someone in the wings. The stage went dark, Kuroo, Tadashi now vague silhouettes. As was tradition, a special ending mix phased in and Bokuto thanked the crowd and the venue.
Once his vision had adjusted, Kuroo took the advantage of the dim light to help Tadashi off the stage and back into the audience. The tall boy who had been with him earlier was there as if he'd been anticipating the action and basically caught his giddy friend and set him down before impatiently winding his way through the crowd as if he had somewhere better to be. The kid chased after him, with one last longing look at Kuroo before he took off.
He sensed more than heard Bokuto's track starting its fade, and got up from where he'd been crouching and confidently made his way over to center stage. When the music suddenly surged again, a spotlight trained on Kuroo snapped on, revealing him standing with his back to the audience with his hip cocked, looking over his shoulder at the crowd. He winked, gave a little wave, and was joined by Bokuto who was illuminated by his own spot that flickered to life.
The eccentric musician grinned and yelled "Good night, L.A.! Until next time!" as the crowd erupted in cheers. The lights dimmed slowly this time as Kuroo and Bokuto walked together into the wings, clapping each other on the back and laughing as they always did.
Staff swarmed around them, removing the earpieces and taking their microphones. Someone pressed a bottle of water into Kuroo's hand, and he gratefully gulped down a good third of the cool liquid. He never felt tired during the show with all the nervous energy and excitement in the air from the crowd and the adrenaline rush performing gave him, but once he was out of view he tended to fade and fast.
"You in there, Kuroo?" His brain was kicked back into gear by a smooth voice that was definitely nearby, but where, he still didn't know exactly. He stood there dumbly, a bit dazed as something (later recognized as a towel) was taken from his hand and was being used to dab sweat from his face and defined collarbones. "For crying out loud, are you a child?"
He blinked a few times, rapidly, his spent brain still processing what he was looking at. Eventually his eyes met those of the speaker, and he stared into warm chocolatey eyes that belonged to none other than Oikawa Tooru. "You came?"
Oikawa rolled his eyes, practically throwing the dirty rag at a passing Yachi. He clicked his tongue, leaning in close to Kuroo, seemingly indifferent to the heat he radiated. "I told you I would," he replied, looking a bit put out. "I know I'm a superstar now, but I can spare a little bit of time for my close friend."
Kuroo, remembering how 'close' they had been that morning and noticing their proximity, raised an eyebrow. "Well thank you, oh kingly one, for gracing me with your presence. Any chance you'd consider staying a bit longer? Perhaps for the night?"
"I'll do you one better," Oikawa replied mischievously, leaning forward smoothly and pecking Kuroo on the lips so lightly he barely felt it. "My next photoshoot is in Manhattan, tomorrow evening. Your next show is also in New York. So the obvious arrangement is for me to fly out with you tonight, no? After all, Bokuto is going to be a day or two behind you since he's driving with all his audio stuff, and you'll need someone to keep you company. Everything's already taken care of, so what do you say?"
Kuroo broke into a genuine grin, and he laughed heartily. "You're really something, mister model."
Oikawa smiled, all perfect white teeth and calculated dimples. "That's 'master' model to you, Tetsurou."
Kuroo snorted and moved his hand to rest on Oikawa's waist, tracing over the thin casual shirt he wore. "You don't want to go there," he said, his fingertips slipping just below the hem so he could lightly scratch and dig into the other man with his nails. "I wreck you, and you love it."
Oikawa shrugged a bit, smiling as if he knew something Kuroo didn't. "I have a surprise for you, actually," he said, taking a step out of Kuroo's reach. "And I need to make sure everything is in place. You still have to pack up in the hotel, no? Flight's not for a few more hours, so we'll meet then. Good job out there, by the way."
He shook his head in mock incredulity, a smile playing at the corners of his lips even so. "Aye aye, captain," he joked, "Good to know I have your approval, now get going so I can get going!"
Oikawa tilted his head back and laughed lightly, then brought his heated gaze to meet Kuroo's. They held eye contact in silence for a second or two before Oikawa stuck his tongue out like a child and gave him a peace sign. He turned to walk away, hips swaying teasingly, and Kuroo couldn't help himself: he darted forward the two steps that separated them and gave Oikawa a smart smack on his perfect bubble butt. Oikawa yelped, but Kuroo knew it was just another of the man's theatrics since a) he hadn't hit him hard at all and b) he KNEW he was asking for it, moving like that.
Oikawa gave him a faux indignant look over his shoulder, rubbing the spot where Kuroo's hand had connected. Kuroo couldn't help but laugh heartily at the sight, and Oikawa glared at him before turning on his heel to stalk off to attend to whatever he thought was so important, he couldn't trust any of his assistants to handle it.
Kuroo sat in the back of his car, looking out at the lights of the runway. Oikawa had apparently planned this whole affair well before the tour got to L.A., and it seemed as if his entire crew (sans him) had been aware he was flying out that night. Even Bokuto had been told, and while he whined a bit about not being included, it only took a quiet reminder from Kenma that if he flew he would have to let the roadies handle his equipment and a "Don't you hate planes anyway?" for him to pipe down.
Next to him, Kenma fixed Kuroo with an intense stare, his oddly colored hair a mess. It probably hadn't seen a brush that day, since Kenma had to get up at the asscrack of dawn on show days and he was most definitely not a morning person. Bokuto, distracted by some new stage kid examining his precious soundboard, flew away squawking and flapping his arms. This left Kenma and Kuroo alone, or at least as alone as they could be in the middle of such commotion.
Kenma was fidgeting with his hands, having nothing else to occupy them. He was great with rubix cubes and other dexterity puzzles, but his choice distraction was of course his handheld gaming console. It was just a lot easier to bring a small, soundless toy to important meetings than something with flashing lights and music. However, he didn't have anything to conceal or control the shaking of his hands and it was causing him distress. Kuroo noticed this, and reached out to take Kenma's hands in his own. He brought the backs of his hands to his lips, bending to place a gentle kiss on each one in turn. It was a nervous tic, and while Kuroo didn't know what was upsetting him, he knew how to calm him down.
"Is it bad?" he asked, leaning in so he could talk right into Kenma's ear. His voice was deep and slow, and Kenma subconsciously shifted so he was resting his forehead on Kuroo's chest, hiding from the world with their hands still clasped between them. Kenma had been dealing with anxiety since they were very young and Kuroo hated seeing him in such a state.
"Not really," Kenma replied softly, speaking into Kuroo's shirt.
"If you need me, I'll stay and drive out with everyone else," he offered, letting go of one of Kenma's hands so he could wrap an arm around his friend. "Screw New York."
"You don't mean that," Kenma said, and it broke Kuroo's heart. He continued, "You want to go on the trip because it's new. Anxiety has been a fact of my- our- lives as long as you remember. Even if I begged you not to go, you would wish you did."
Kenma pulled back a little to look into Kuroo's face. There was no judgement in his eyes, just a deep seated sadness that no amount of friendship or love had ever been able to touch. He wasn't being accusatory, simply stating facts that Kuroo could not deny. Kenma had always been as straightforward as he was perceptive, and for a split second, Kuroo hated him for that.
"Call me if you need me," Kuroo said finally, lamely, ashamed that he was so transparent.
"I will," replied Kenma, but they both knew that was a lie. If he got a call regarding Kenma, it wouldn't be from his friend, and it wouldn't be about a situation simple enough that a conversation would make it better.
A car pulled up next to them, and the chauffeur opened the door for his passenger. Oikawa stepped out, all long legs and toned arms, and Kuroo knew that he would have to be boarding soon- Oikawa Tooru was many things, but more often than not, the word patient didn't apply to him.
Kuroo turned to Kenma, who had also looked out the window to see the new arrival. He cupped Kenma's face, turning him so they were looking right at each other. Kenma's eyes were huge and beautiful, and Kuroo felt a twinge of guilt that he would be leaving such a vulnerable creature to face the long trip cross country alone. Kenma though, smiled just a little, letting his expression say everything: Be careful. Stay safe. Have fun. I love you.
Kuroo returned the smile, stroking his thumb over Kenma's cheekbone. He closed the few inches separating them, pressing his lips very gently to Kenma's. Their lips met and pulled away gently a few times, the motions slow and unhurried. There was no tongue, no desperate grabbing or licking or moaning, but it was still so intimate that time seemed to stall while they were wrapped up together.
Kenma and Kuroo weren't together. Never had been, probably never would be. Kuroo knew he loved Kenma, but it wasn't in the way he felt he should love a significant other. He knew Kenma loved him too, but their bond wasn't exactly romantic in nature. They cuddled and kissed, watched movies together every Thursday night, and knew everything about each other, but they weren't dating. They had never had sex, or even come close. Neither of them desired that kind of contact with the other, and while they were closer than two people ought to be capable of, they were just friends. Not even friends with benefits. Just friends who loved each other in their own way.
They separated, and Kuroo reached for the door handle. His driver was busy loading his luggage, but he was more than capable of getting out of a car on his own. He very gently untangled himself from Kenma and stepped out, pausing just outside the car instead of immediately closing the door. He looked at Kenma one more time, who nodded. Kuroo bit down on the inside of his cheek, raised his hand in farewell, and walked toward the plane without looking back.
Kuroo boarded, and was greeted with the sight of a well lit cabin. It was nice, clean and well furnished, with a few armchairs and two long couches that faced each other. There were flowers and fruit infused water (Oikawa's request, no doubt) and packages of Kuroo's favorite brand of potato chips and a bottle of soda on a table to the side. It was a little warm, but he didn't mind. He could always take off the blazer he'd thrown on over a simple white v-neck after he'd showered back at the hotel. The whole setup was fairly standard, at least where Kuroo's experience with private flight was concerned, but what wasn't standard were the two men intertwined on one of the couches and Oikawa booting up his laptop like their weren't strangers on their plane.
Kuroo dropped down on the couch next to his friend, who didn't even look up or acknowledge his presence as he dealt with some sort of processing issue. He tousled Oikawa's hair, receiving a slap on the wrist for his efforts. Everyone sat in total silence for a good thirty seconds (Kuroo could actually hear the ticking of his watch) before he finally said, "What the fuck, Tooru?"
Oikawa finally glanced up, adjusting his glasses with one hand. He gestured toward the men sitting across from them lazily, and said, "They're our escorts," with an inflection that made Kuroo simultaneously embarrassed and irritated.
"You hired escorts for us?" Kuroo asked in disbelief. He looked the two of them over, taking in their appearances. He had to admit, they were both extraordinarily beautiful, almost to the point of being feminine. The smaller of the two had dark hair that curled around his temples, and sea green eyes that flitted away when he saw Kuro appraising him. The other was a lanky blond with black rimmed glasses and perfect skin. They appeared to be very comfortable with each other- the blond leaning back against the armrest of the couch with his legs up and the other man basically lying on top of him, but turned on his side. They were both dressed provocatively, as if there was any confusion about their occupations, but it wasn't until the blond fixed him with mean, piercing eyes of sunlit amber that Kuroo's jaw dropped.
"You- you- you were at the show!"