The most faithful companion of comfort is silence. Not the emptiness ringing with absence of any sound but the quiet white noise of the world around. That one noise that wakes up better than coffee and touches gently, pours into ears in a soft wave.
Kei loves to wake up like this, not from the sharp thrill of the alarm clock which spoils the mood for the whole day for sure even before you have time to actually open your eyes, but slowly floating out of slumber into reality, gradually collecting yourself in warm space. Senses wake up too slowly, little by little and Kei frowns, realizing that someone has pulled the blanket off him somewhere in the morning.
Kuroo grumbles softly beside him, stretches with a crunch and throws an arm across Kei's back.
"It's cold," Kei mutters, though it really isn't. Late spring was generous with warm serene days, bright sun shining through thin curtains. They played the game "pull the blanket off your mate" in turns.
Kuroo laughs softly with a voice hoarse from sleep, and it sends shivers down Kei's spine.
"I'm avenged. Nearly frozen to death at night, you know. Because someone played a caterpillar."
Kei jerks as a wide, rough palm strokes his ass.
"If you would move closer, you wouldn't freeze," Kei yawns. Kuroo hums in agreement, rolls over, and lies on him with full weight.
"Cruel heartless Tsuki. I could freeze to death, have pity on me!"
"Throwing a tantrum this early?"
Kuroo laughs and licks slowly between his shoulder blades. Once, twice, he nips the pale skin lightly. Kei melts from the strange caress. He remembers how he shied away the first time because, come on, that's gross. He got used to it though, it wasn't the weirdest habit after all. The feeling of Kuroo's boner against his ass was familiar as well.
Every weekend when both of them don't have to hurry anywhere begins just like that: lazily, slowly, unhurriedly. Absolutely perfect.
"Coffee?" Kuroo murmurs right into his ear, nipping it lightly. Kei hums in agreement, too lazy to answer. "Here or are you going to crawl out into the kitchen?"
Kei is not a morning person by any means but has to pretend to be one the whole life. Although he hates to spend time on things he finds useless, he has learned how to spend time on himself. So when there is a possibility, he can easily sleep half the day away.
It's cold without Kuroo, and Kei wakes up completely. He rolls over and stares at the ceiling for a long time until the sensation of touch lingering on his skin disappears completely. The light in the room is bright yellow from the almost summer sun. The bed cools quickly and Kei reluctantly pulls himself off. A familiar smell is already wafting from the kitchen, so Kei follows it like a hound. The kitchen is cramped, with funny yellow wallpapers. When Kuroo entered the university, he started looking for the apartment and dragged Kei with him, looking for some kind of "the one", and it was the kitchen that he completely fell in love with. Kei didn't understand then why Kuroo was dragging him everywhere but followed obediently, taking it as a display of friendliness of the overly sociable captain. It came to him much later, before the third year of high school, when after their terribly awkward first sex Kuroo promised in a feverish whisper that everything would be fine, seriously, it would be better, both of them would learn, "we will try, yeah, we will try again because you are so…"
How could he refuse? And why?
Kei sits down on a high chair, stretches, watching Kuroo humming some pop tune under his breath as he prepares coffee and breakfast.
"I'm not hungry," says Kei and Kuroo chuckles.
"I am."
The sun peeps through the windows, warms his bare back, and Kei is dozing on the table, lulled by melodic purring and endless cozy morning. He awakens when Kuroo sets the cup with a thud in front of his nose.
"Sleeping beauty," Kuroo hums affectionately, runs his fingertips along Kei's cheekbone, strokes the back of the head and neck. Kei cannot hold eyes open and tilts his head back, exposing his throat, knowing well that Kuroo won't be able to resist. The next moment hot soft lips are pressed against his neck, Kuroo kisses him greedily, moving lower to the collarbones and Kei doesn't want to open his eyes. Maybe he should drag Kuroo back to bed for another half a day right now. But they still have time. Kei pulls away, kissing Kuroo's chin briefly and pulls the cup closer. Busy, see? Kuroo laughs and Kei hides a smile.
Nobody knew about them. Kei himself had no idea at all for a long time what was actually going on. He was absolutely oblivious to the feelings of the older teen so when Kuroo began to show increased attention, Kei believed that he was simply preparing Nekoma's rival for the next year, so to speak, so that they definitely wouldn't slack. Well, or for some other reason. It's still hard for Kei sometimes to understand what's going on in that head. The situation became clear as day when Yamaguchi as soon as he learned about another Kuroo's visit stuttered and asked if help was needed. After all, he can give the keys to the house, his parents were away on some trip, he himself could spend the night with first-year Mamoru, hang out all night playing some new game, and Tsuki will be able to stay alone with Kuroo…
Kei chuckles softly and shrugs at a curious glance across the table.
"Just recalling how we started dating."
Kuroo snorts and continues to eat, but Kei knows he was hurt then. That he remembers well. Kuroo kept radio silent for two weeks, until he finally believed that Kei really had no idea what Kuroo wanted from him in the previous months.
"It wasn't funny at all. I felt like a pervert."
Kei reaches across the table, touches Kuroo's palm, fingers intertwined immediately, and Kuroo shakes his head.
"I was also happy like never before in my life when you said you didn't mind."
Kei grins.
"That I remember well."
And he remembers how he thanked Yamaguchi later for kicking him in the right direction. Yamaguchi always knew exactly when and what to say so that Kei would finally open eyes and stop burying his head in the sand, as he used to.
Kuroo strokes the sharp knuckles with thumb, watching with interest.
"You know, I always thought your fingers were extremely thin. I watched the match with Shiratorizawa and wanted to close my eyes on every block."
"My fingers are perfectly fine," Kei protests, and Kuroo grins, eyes glinting with mischief.
"Oh, I know."
Kei wants to pour coffee on Kuroo's head.
The wind flows into the half-open window, inflates the curtains like a sail. Kei glances at the not-so-nightmarish yellow wallpaper. He remembers that Kuroo only laughed at the question of what was so special about this kitchen, and looking in Kei's eyes, replied that he just liked the yellow color. And gold, of course. And all its shades in general. And he looked intently and attentively, as if he was looking for something. Or as if he already found it and tried to make sure that he did not imagine.
He did not, Kei thinks. Everything is just as it should be.