you were standing in front of the stove, humming quietly while trying to stir somthing that probably looked way easier on tiktok than it actually was.

“i got it,” kuroo said from behind you.

before you could even move, warm hands settled lightly on your waist.

“careful,” he murmured, gently nudging you a tiny step to the side. “hot pan comin’ through.”

you huffed. “i was fine.”

“mmhm.” he moved past with the pan, way too smug for someone holding dinner hostage. “and i’d rather not have my favorite girl get burned.”

he set it down before coming right back, resting his chin on top of your head for a second.

“you okay?”

“yes,” you mumbled.

“good.” he stole a peice of food straight from the plate.

“tetsu!”

“quality control, baby.”

—

you reached for the grocery bags.

kuroo gave you a look.

you froze.

“…what?”

he lifted one brow, already carrying half the bags in one hand like it was nothing.

“what did i say?”

you sighed dramaticly. “that you can carry them.”

“right.”

“i have arms, tetsu.”

“yeah, pretty ones.” he reached over and took the last bag before you could argue. “so let me.”

you rolled your eyes, trying to grab the door handle instead.

another look.

that stern, unimpressed one.

you stopped instantly.

“…seriously?”

“seriously.”

he opened the door with a little nod. “after you.”

“you’re annoying.”

Struggling to decide

whether one on fall or spring

would rock their shit more,

Zen monk Ken Ito

strained for a haiku to knock

them on their asses.

“I could mess them up

with that Bashō one about

the full moon’s splendor,”