#terufuta

“I’m starving, do you think McDonalds is open during the Purge?”

And naturally, thirty minutes later, they were back to this shit. Albeit, with a bit more admiration towards Yamamoto, and each other. Oh, and no back bumper.

But still. This.

“Ew, I sure hope not. Can you imagine dying in a McDonald’s if you’re an employee?” Suga spoke up from where he was flipping through a magazine, not at all approving of Futakuchi's craving. As a pizza delivery man, Kuroo tried not to take offense, and thinking about it, he sure hoped he didn't die in this uniform. As if recognizing the joke, Tsukishima's eyes flashed in the rearview mirror, twinkling in delight.

Jerk. But Kuroo's grin pretty much negated any real bite.

Futakuchi stared out the window from his new seat in the second row, behind Terushima. He seemed more or less fine, and Kuroo had to say he was impressed with how he'd managed to regain his cool. “Well with all the high calorie food and processed McNuggets at least I can say I died doing what I loved.”

Yamamoto squinted. “Er...eating McNuggets?”

“Dying.”

Good lord.

Then again, perhaps Futakuchi coped with trauma in less conventional ways. Kuroo couldn't help but be a little jealous though; at this point, coping was pointless for him. Each experience got added to the burden on his back, that was all.

He wondered if Tsukishima's shoulders were as heavy.

"Can we just...have some silence please?" Tsukishima sighed, making another strange turn down an empty road. They'd stopped questioning him after three or four detours, he seemed to know his way around enough. Plus, how much more car trouble could they possibly have?

To his surprise the car didn't protest. It must've been the exhaustion or the hunger, because everyone sat back quietly, like a rowdy bunch of kids on a road trip. Kuroo figured that was the most innocent analogy, given their situation. Not even Futakuchi argued as he burned a hole into the back of Terushima's head.

Ah yes, the other elephant in the room.

...car.

The fearless leader occupied the passenger seat now, something Kuroo hadn't questioned despite his reluctance. Tsukishima knew it was important for Terushima to be at the front of things, this was his expedition after all. Kuroo had moved farther up to the second row though, because no way was he not sitting behind Tsukishima. If that was as close as he was allowed, he'd stay there.

As time passed, he'd wondered if it had been the best course of action though, isolating Terushima in the front when Futakuchi's concerned stare begged for him to join the rest of their friends.

Terushima hadn't spoken since they'd moved back into the car, after the relieved tears had been shed. Kuroo could see the lines of tension in his shoulders, begging to be pressed, the gritting teeth he wasn't even trying to conceal. It was enough to make Kuroo feel like a coil, and he was the most relaxed he'd been all night.

Again, Kuroo caught Tsukishima's eyes in the mirror, the same question sitting between them.

Should we say something?

The option felt clunky and unnatural, even as he imagined it. What would he say?

Tsukishima sighed, turning back to the road as his fingers curled around the wheel. Guess that meant he didn't know either.

To think he and Tsukishima were so capable when it came to fighting, strategizing, watching everyone's backs...

And yet, who knew when the last time they'd dealt with emotions had been? Kuroo at least had Bokuto and Akaashi, and his family out of the country, but...

Images of an empty living room and bland walls flashed in his mind. The lack of chairs at a dinner table...

When did Tsukishima talk about these things? Did he ever get the chance?

Kuroo surely didn't. No matter how Bokuto pried, he kept his shit locked up behind double steel doors guarded by mutant crocodiles in his heart.

Point: he and Tsukishima could do a lot, but he wasn't so sure about this.

Kuroo sighed, leaning against the tinted windows as the streetlights passed, the remnants of barely burning bonfires blurring on the side of the road every now and again. He had to give it to Tsukishima, his route made no sense, but Kuroo had barely seen any people in the last half hour.

He knew feeling safe was never one hundred percent during the Purge, but with Tsukishima here, it was the closest they'd all get. He couldn't help but wonder how knowledge of this route had come to the blond though.

Had he once been lost in this city too? On the worst night of the year no less?

Facing something like this alone was something Kuroo did all the time without even realizing, but Tsukishima lacked Kuroo's false indifference and mundane delivery routes. When Tsukishima had gone out into the Purge, he'd done so with a goal, one he'd kill for.

Kuroo's pretend bravery didn't compare, nor did his occasional wrong turn in a suburban neighborhood. If Tsukishima had ventured out into the limitless city, Kuroo could only imagine how afraid he might've been.

It almost made him feel guilty, because now those experiences had become their salvation.

It was also a reason Kuroo barely worried when they got a flat tire minutes later. He was the only one though.

"Oh fuck, oh no," Suga began fretting as the car slowed to a stop, maneuvered expertly to the side of the road by a still silent Tsukishima. "I can't believe this! What now? How are we supposed to get there now?"

Tsukishima unbuckled his seatbelt gently, reaching into the glovebox as hell broke loose in the car.

If Kuroo didn't marry him, he'd be so disappointed in himself.

Kuroo could've been worried himself, but what was the point? If he could survive Honda Rodeo he could survive anything.

"We're all gonna die aren't we? This is the end of the line," Yamamoto said, and Kuroo didn't mean to judge him, but c'mon. The man was hyperventilating, seconds away from breaking a window which would be a real problem. Suga also fidgeted roughly in his seat, looking out every window like the plague of Purgers would descend on them any minute now.

Relax, holy fuck.

Futakuchi seemed preoccupied with his not-boyfriend still, a problem which sat at the front of Kuroo's brain way more than this car situation, especially when Tsukishima finally graced them all with his words of encouragement and patience.

"Shut up," Tsukishima hissed, stuffing a car rag from the glove box into Yamamoto's mouth. Oh, so that's what he needed from there. Thank you. "I know how to change a damn tire. There should be a spare in the back."

Silence filled the car; Kuroo tried not to propose on the spot.

Yamamoto let the rag fall out of his mouth like it was no big deal, and honestly none of them would've tried to fight the blond anyways. It plopped to the floor pathetically. "...oh. Cool."

Jeez.

The car relaxed again, and Kuroo allowed himself to glance at their surroundings, trying to be somewhat smart about things. They were by the beach now, a coastal highway with hardly any buildings lining it. Not exactly a fun place to find people to murder.

Once more, Tsukishima had thought so much through, and knew so much.

Wait a second...

Kuroo perked up, glancing at Tsukishima as he stepped out of the car. "Do you really? Know how to change it I mean?"

Tsukishima stopped right before closing the door, his shock at the question palpable. Kuroo didn't think it was that weird. Hesitance flashed in those beautiful eyes as Tsukishima shyly nodded, his voice small and a far cry from moments before. "My dad was a mechanic before...yeah. He taught me."

"Oh," he replied pathetically, his curiosity dimming. "I'm sorry."

Tsukishima's smile was small, but it was enough to soothe Kuroo anyways.

As Tsukishima busied himself, Kuroo sat back, letting the information sit with him. He was all too aware of the blond's movements behind him, getting the tire and the toolkit out, wasting no time in setting out all his equipment. He did it with such calm efficiency, Kuroo couldn't put a finger on why it bothered him. He thought the feeling was admiration, and some curiosity, and most of it was, but...

"At least now we'll survive," Yamamoto said, getting ready to hop out of the car while Tsukishima changed the tire. Ah yes, the worst part. But seeing no threats in the area, Kuroo hopped out like it was any other day, indulging in the fantasy.

Plus, he was happy to be facing Tsukishima again. The back tire had been the one to blow, and Kuroo wasted no time in helping him get the jack situated, his fingers grazing Tsukishima's every so often.

He would've gladly worked in the comfortable silence, if a familiar voice hadn't stopped him.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Terushima scoffed, unmoving from his seat, and even Tsukishima thought it necessary to pause.

They'd both been expecting something like this.

The rest of the group jumped, all heads turning to what usually meant lighthearted jokes, an easy tone. Not this time, and Futakuchi must've caught onto that too.

He tried to open Terushima's door, but the leader denied him that, solidifying the wall he'd haphazardly placed around himself. Kuroo tried not to stare at how the brunet's expression cracked. "Yuuji..."

Terushima's breathing sounded like simmering heat, threatening to boil over.

"You can stop making jokes about it now, it's a flat tire, not life or death," Terushima snarled, and Kuroo could feel the fire raging beneath, waiting. He and Tsukishima didn't move. They knew.

Yamamoto did not. "Actually it kinda is tonight. We're just trying to stay positive..."

"As positive as we can be given the Fast and Furious remake we just lived through," Suga said, fanning himself with his magazine. Beside him, Yamamoto giggled, but Futakuchi just backed away from the car, catching onto what Kuroo had anticipated thirty minutes ago.

It was all apparently the last straw.

Terushima whipped around, and his voice trembled, the storm of emotions in his expression stronger than the tide Kuroo could hear rushing in his ears. A tumultuous sea.

"Can you guys shut up!" It's not funny okay? You almost died not even a fucking hour ago, and you're here joking about fucking McDonald's and the car and everything! What's wrong with you?" The desperation made his friends flinch, and Kuroo felt Tsukishima rise to his feet beside him, ready to intervene.

But he stayed put, like he knew this whole thing was necessary. How closely did he relate? More than Kuroo did, probably.

"Hey," Yamamoto began, the guilt seeping into his tone. He didn't get the chance. "I didn't--"

Terushima hand slammed against the middle console, and he stared at it, offended, like he wished the car would just completely fall to pieces. "No! We all could be lying in the road right now but I guess none of you care that we--I almost lost---just fuck this! Okay? What's the point anymore? Why...why are we doing this?"

It was an after shock of doubt, much like how Terushima had felt back in Tsukishima's home, but worse now. Realer. Experienced.

The group stared on, appalled, and Kuroo could tell where their thoughts had gone. How could Terushima ask such a thing after how far they'd probably all come? Kuroo could imagine the nights of planning, the shared worries, the goodbyes they'd said to their families with no explanation...

There were a million reasons why they'd done this, Terushima's mom, justice, many more stupid, human things. None of them felt anymore childish than the last in Kuroo's mind, his hatred of naivety be damned. They all had their weaknesses, he was no exception.

They'd all believed in this night, in Terushima. Maybe that's why Kuroo's heart ached at seeing Futakuchi's hand touch the glass window, seeing Suga curl in on himself as he sat on the dirty road.

And beneath it all, an insecurity Kuroo was all too familiar with shone through Terushima's words, an echo of what Kuroo had always known to be something which linked their experiences together.

Why did I think I could do this?

Kuroo looked to his side, watching Tsukishima's neutral expression contemplate the words, absorbing them without judgement.

Tsukishima would know best about this right? Regret. His words from earlier reverberated in Kuroo's head, wistful and weighed down.

"Back then, it made sense. Now I'm not sure, but it's done."

Terushima couldn't say that yet, he was giving up too soon. Kuroo knew one or two things about being a coward, but even he knew some things were better to see through.

Especially when it concerned something he believed in.

The wind blew, and Terushima's anger didn't cease.

"Well...because," Futakuchi began, small and not anything like the cutting banter he usually threw out. His thought faded into the air as he lost it, not knowing what to say. Kuroo doubted any of them did. Terushima had been their rock, and now...

The leader huffed, leaping out of the car finally, slamming the door with little care to how loud it echoed in the darkness. He walked right past Futakuchi, past his friends, walking alone across the street to sit on the beach. He didn't care.

No one moved, most kept their eyes on the ground, defeated. But Kuroo followed Terushima's every move. The frustration, the anger, he understood.

The sound of the waves hitting the rocks didn't have the relaxing quality they usually did as he saw Terushima sit on the edge of the road, where asphalt met sand, curling up like he wished the world would dissolve around him. Soon he'd discover as Kuroo had, the world wasn't that nice.

Kuroo wondered if he should go talk to him, if they should fix the tire first, if they should talk about anything or just let Terushima blow off steam at his own pace. He wasn't used to this anymore. He wasn't the natural leader he'd been in high school, he didn't know how to pat people on the back or offer them advice or make them feel like everything would be okay. His plan of attack wasn't even in the first draft stages, and he hated it.

But he should've known by then, where he faltered, Tsukishima pushed.

Wordlessly, the blond set aside his tools, dusting off his hands on his sweater, and began to walk across the road as well. Tsukishima threw one look Kuroo's way, eyebrow quirked, and no explanation was needed.

Are you coming?

Kuroo was powerless to follow. Guess he would find out about his emotional advice skills after all, but Tsukishima would be there to pick up his slack, filling in the blanks.

Kuroo nodded for him to go ahead, and the promise was sealed.

Not everyone else was so gung-ho about that.

Yamamoto perked up as he watched Tsukishima leave them, and hey, relatable. "H-hey! Where is he going?"

Without answering, Kuroo checked his surroundings one last time, and made sure the doors were locked before trailing after the blond.

"Wait! Not you too! Hey! I'm talking to you!" Yamamoto bellowed nervously, and Kuroo would admit, he and Tsukishima were the most capable people in the group. But damn, they could survive on an empty road with clear vantage points for at least ten minutes.

"You'll be fine," Kuroo said, rolling his eyes.

Eek. He hoped the universe hadn't been listening to that.

"That's what everyone says," Yamamoto whispered, like now that their defenses had deserted them, they needed to be extra careful. Please. "And then something terrible happens."

You're not wrong, but oh well.

Kuroo sighed roughly, his hand carding through his hair. He really was glad he'd decided to join these losers tonight, he didn't want to think of what would've happened otherwise. "Just, please, watch out for each other. Keep your weapons out, look around at all times. No sweat."

Or, he hoped as much.

Saying 'no sweat' on a night like tonight was like comforting someone by telling them the dead had risen, but the government wasn't going to nuke them all in response.

We won't be long, it's fine.

Yeah.

As he turned towards where Terushima and Tsukishima sat, Kuroo actually felt it was true, and with each step, the anxiety became a bit more tolerable.

He watched Tsukishima put ample distance between himself and Terushima, either for his own sake or the leader's, but Kuroo didn't doubt Terushima appreciated it. His head barely rose when Kuroo arrived.

The ocean stalled, listening, before the waves began to rock steadily again. To Kuroo's shock, Tsukishima didn't press, didn't break the ice with a scolding or a question.

So, Kuroo followed his lead, and leaned against the old lookout rails.

Terushima dipped his head lower, fixated on the vastness in front of him, eyes murky like its depths. Guess Terushima still let himself cry. Good. "Are you guys here to tell me I'm overreacting or something? Because if so, you don't have to, I know..."

Kuroo could've laughed; there was no such thing as overreacting tonight, Kuroo had more freakouts than he could count and his shift would've barely been half over. So really, Terushima was just reacting, and to some pretty fucked up shit too.

Tsukishima had to know that, his long sigh just a preparation to recite similar thoughts with more profoundness than Kuroo could manage. Tsukishima, with his reserved posture and calculating stares which only gave away bits and pieces at a time. The experience locked in there surely had insight to give, and Kuroo waited, trusted.

The raw honesty which left the blond's lips carried more like a punch to the gut, gentle advice turned atom bomb.

Tsukishima's eyes were dead as he waited for Terushima to raise his head, a disturbing patience, before everything was dropped into the air like the words meant nothing. "Once, I drove all night to a new city," Tsukishima said, shrugging. He squirmed, pulling his legs in as he watched the water. "I'd...never been there, I hadn't eaten, my car wasn't fancy or armor plated like yours, but I went anyways. Not my best idea, kind of on the same tier as taking a group of friends in a van and getting lost, but worse still. It was just me, all alone, because I was angry. So angry, like you."

'I'm just like you.'

Terushima sat there, frozen, listening. The comment about his own actions hadn't even stung, not that it was meant to. No, even Kuroo knew, this part of the story was Tsukishima telling him he'd done almost everything right. Terushima was no better or worse than any of them.

But that wasn't the whole story.

Kuroo's ears strained for any sound, and he should've been focused on Terushima, how each admittance made his posture open and his tension fade, but he couldn't find it in him. His world was Tsukishima, and another pit of suspicion lodged itself in his gut.

Tsukishima shook his head, breathing hard, and Kuroo had never seen him so unable to piece his words together. They were cracked, not fluent and cutting like usual. They were just sad. Kuroo wanted more than anything to make that stop, to go back in time so he could've helped. "My parents lived there, that city, in some stupid fancier house. Without us. And they...they needed to be taught a lesson. Kind of like your rich doctor I guess."

Tsukishima paused, waiting for Terushima's small, child-like nod.

"I took stuff from them, not everything but enough, a lot. Enough to lock myself in that big empty house you smashed a hole in," Tsukishima said, and Terushima bowed his head. Then, almost imperceptibly, Tsukishima's head tilted towards Kuroo, his voice smaller, like he actually cared about embarrassment. As if Kuroo would care. "Enough to pay off the debt for the college degree I didn't finish, enough to pay for whatever I wanted."

The mention of college had Kuroo's mind swimming again, something missing, always missing.

Tell me everything.

Tsukishima breathed.

"So no, I'm not going to tell you you're overreacting. I don't really think I've earned the privilege. I'm just here to ask why you're so upset," Tsukishima finished, simply, like his voice hadn't been crumbling like plates during an earthquake.

"But...you, you weren't overreacting," Terushima spoke, loud enough over the waves to make Kuroo flinch. "I don't think so..."

Tsukishima arched a brow, the question clear. 'If I wasn't overreacting, neither are you.'

Terushima's eyes widened, but Tsukishima still thought it necessary to hammer the point home, to expose the parts of himself he'd been so carefully pulling apart. "Do you wanna know why I robbed my parents?"

Yes.

Kuroo remembered how relieved he'd been when he'd found out Tsukishima wasn't a typical Purger. How much he'd always hated those who contributed to the danger and culture. Really, Tsukishima was part of the issue, no matter what Kuroo tried to justify in his head. But he couldn't fault the blond, not when he saw the look in his eyes, heard the edge in his voice. Tsukishima hadn't had a choice, no matter how he was trying to spin this, to paint himself as less than. At the end of the day, Kuroo wanted to know what he'd done and why more than anyone, but if he never did, he'd support Tsukishima regardless. He was that confident in his character, in the desperation which had pushed him so far.

Kuroo hated the Purge, but the basic foundation of ignorance he'd built had withered away over the past few hours, that hero complex altered. He couldn't stop Terushima from changing completely like he'd originally wanted, just like no amount of company could’ve helped Tsukishima all those years ago.

But they were here, and they would do what they could. Kuroo would give his all, bad advice or not.

"Yes..." Terushima whispered, like he was scared, but he needed to hear it.

Tsukishima had once said he and Terushima were the same. Kuroo hadn't fully understood then, but now...

"They tried to kill my brother." Tsukishima glared out at the sea, remembering. Kuroo and Terushima didn't breathe. "They were going to profit off him to make their lives better, like Takahashi wanted to do with your mom and countless others. I tried to stop them, but I guess I only half won."

"Since he's in a wheelchair now, he needs all the peace he can get."

Tsukishima had been an amateur too, once upon a time.

Kuroo bowed his head, but Terushima's reactions didn't stay hidden, he understood. And of course, Tsukishima must've known why Terushima was upset all along. Kuroo had as well. That self-doubt, the guilt over dragging his friends into this.

But at the end of the day, Terushima wasn't wrong.

"Your revenge isn't misplaced, you're not a bad person for wanting to kill this piece of shit," Tsukishima managed out, the snarl in his voice barely contained. "Your friends feel the same. You need to stop focusing on all your stupid mistakes and just do what you have to."

The goal is worth it.

Maybe not right, but worth it. The Purge should've never been a thing to begin with, but if the Purge wasn't going to get justice for these things...

"He's right," Kuroo finally said, and Tsukishima's head whipped around to look at him, like he'd expected Kuroo to dismiss him altogether. Yeah right. Kuroo smiled at him, small and weak, but certain. "For the longest time, I thought the Purge and anyone who used it was no better than the worst criminals. And honestly, I still kind of believe that...nothing is ever going to be able to completely get rid of that feeling."

Tsukishima nodded, felt the same.

"But sometimes the lesser of two evils isn't all just bullshit excuses," Kuroo sighed, because in this day and age choices were so damn limited. "If people like you...both of you, didn't go after these assholes, no one would even get close to them."

Tsukishima stayed staring, his bitten nails digging into the sleeves of his sweater. It pained him to look away, more than Kuroo could make sense of. He looked to Terushima, channeling his eighteen year old self for what he hoped wasn't the last time. "I know that deep down now, so do your friends. They believe in you, and what you're doing, no matter how much you think you're messing up."

And Tsukishima, bless his soul, knew he had to put this lesson ahead of his own emotions. He turned back to Terushima, rising to his feet alongside Kuroo. "He has a point. That lot wouldn't accept the danger for nothing, I know I call them fools but you have to have more faith in them than that, they know more than you think, more than you apparently. They saw the leadership quality in you and put their money on it. So maybe they cope with trauma with bad jokes..."

"Don't we all?" Kuroo added, sighing wistfully.

"...but that doesn't mean they're not serious. Far from it, if they weren't I doubt you could've even gotten them outside the door."

Yeah seriously. They're more nuts than we are.

And they had bad taste in food, but irrelevant.

Terushima wiped at his eyes, mouth torn between a grimace and a laugh. Sometimes it was hard to accept things weren't all one's own doing. Kuroo knew it was hard to explain every feeling, every conflict going on inside the heart, but Terushima was strong. He could do this, sort of had to. Kuroo had pledged to help him realize that. "I just...I didn't want them to get hurt. It should've just been me out here."

Kuroo and Tsukishima shared a look, and the blond felt no need to sugar-coat things anymore. "It's too late for that. They accepted those risks, so did you. They're not going to blame you for whatever happens."

Not even in death.

Not to mention, Kuroo had no doubt Tsukishima would've appreciated the help back in the day. He hadn't been so lucky to have the support system Terushima had. They loved Terushima so much, didn't resent him. He had to respect that.

"But--!" Terushima stopped, his teeth gritting together to keep the arguments back. He knew they were useless.

Usually, Kuroo would worry for the wellbeing of anyone willing to argue with Tsukishima, especially after a confession of that caliber, but Kuroo wanted to hear the things he too had never allowed himself to admit. Terushima had to let it all out, or they'd never get off this damn beach.

"But?" Kuroo prodded.

Terushima sighed, his feet digging into the sand, and he vomited the insecurities, the things Kuroo and Tsukishima had encountered more than enough times. "What if I'm too scared to do it? What if...what if I can't kill him? I'm not like you Tsukishima, what if I can't make those hard decisions? If I can't, then what was the point of doing this to everyone?"

'What was the point of hurting everyone?'

Yeah. Worthless risks.

Reasons why Kuroo didn't finish school, didn't try to find a better job, why he just tried to visualize and work towards a better future while he lived in the shitty present.

It couldn't continue, and he didn't want Terushima to feel the same. Some things had to be seen to the end, no matter how painful or uncertain.

Tsukishima only huffed, as if the logic needed to disprove Terushima's fears sat as clear and present as the world around them. "But I didn't make those hard decisions."

Kuroo and Terushima's collective expressions screamed 'what,' but Tsukishima continued like it was the most normal thing in the world. Again, Kuroo knew he was a goner. "I was going to kill them, you know, that was the original plan. I wanted to so bad, I walked up the stairs and into their bedroom and I was so close, they were right there, and...I couldn't do it. I didn't do it. And...I've had to just..."

The glazed look told Kuroo a lot, like the fact Tsukishima still dealt with the horror of that fucked up fork in the road years later, that maybe Tsukishima still hadn't completely let himself accept it. But Kuroo would help him, after all this was done, he promised he would.

"Deal with it," Kuroo finished softly, since that was all everyone ever did for the past seven years.

"Yeah," Tsukishima whispered. "That."

Kuroo's fingers wrapped around Tsukishima's wrist with no hesitation, and felt the goosebumps against his fingertips.

Terushima stared down at his own hands. Kuroo couldn't help but smile. None of them had really expected it to go this way. After a few moments, Terushima spoke, barely above a whisper, the last thing he needed to know. "Do you regret that?"

Kuroo and Tsukishima shared another look, and Kuroo could see it more clearly, the dampness in those gorgeous eyes, the reluctant honesty, everything. Kuroo never wanted to look away.

The blond shook his head, slow, like he needed to be sure. "No, no I don't think so. Not sure I would've regretted doing it either honestly, but I'll never know. I did what I thought was best then, and that's what you should do too."

They both watched as the understanding fully seeped into Terushima's shoulders, chipping away at the last block of second guessing. It made the next words easy to find for Kuroo, they flowed nice and sure, like they used to. And finally, Kuroo didn't doubt his advice.

"Look, no one is saying you have to make one decision or the other," he said, placing his hand against Terushima's shoulder. He felt Tsukishima watch him, like he needed the words too, like he constantly needed the reminder he wasn't a terrible person. Any other night, Kuroo would've gladly stayed put and told him for hours.

But for now, they both had someone else to pull up onto their feet.

Kuroo sighed, and he felt strong again, like he could do anything. He wanted Terushima to feel the same. "When the time comes, you'll make one, and we'll be right there beside you. The thing is, if you're gonna decide..."

If you want the chance to decide...

Kuroo shrugged, grinning softly up at Tsukishima. After all, if the blond needed the words, he needed to say them too. That way, they'd stay drilled in.

The blond nodded, the lines of tension fading away as he unclenched his hands. "You have to actually get to the destination first. Preferably without more car accidents."

And yes, the joke was wholly necessary. But in all truth, they needed to see things to the end, no matter how they'd feel about the consequences later. Such was life. Such was this life, no matter how shitty it was.

"That's life," Tsukishima whispered, as if he could read Kuroo's mind, and Kuroo tried not to blind the world with his grin.

Yeah, Kuroo thought, much better than how I would've said it. Or maybe he knew Tsukishima was simply the best person to deliver the message. Judging from the way Terushima sighed, he knew he'd been right.

They watched as Terushima nodded, wiping the unshed tears from his eyes. The sniffles were drowned out by the waves as he rose to his feet, eyes slowly filling back up with that familiar light. Good. Kuroo would hate if he lost that.

He looked to them both, a new stubbornness back in his face, one that would surely stay.

"Thank you," Terushima said softly, placing a hand on Tsukishima's other wrist. It was enough, more than enough, and Kuroo delighted in the blond's shock, the realization he'd helped.

Tsukishima deserved to feel appreciated like that, more than anyone else.

As Terushima walked away, Kuroo thought it was only right that he told him as much. "He looks up to you, you know. We all do."

Tsukishima turned to him, startled, but Kuroo wouldn't stop himself even under the blond's intensity. "Whatever you did doesn't change that. You made your decisions."

You made the best decisions you could.

Tsukishima stared a second longer, maybe waiting for Kuroo to look away, but Kuroo liked giving in even worse than the blond did. Didn't matter how much he'd been beaten down. He needed to make sure Tsukishima heard him, loud and clear.

Then, the blond's head dropped, the clear loser, and he laughed softly. "Where do you get off, saying things like that so easily?"

Ah, music to Kuroo's ears. He smiled, shameless. "Sorry, but you kinda bring that out in me."

You do a lot for me.

And okay, he sorta meant it in a 'you're really hot way,' but only a little bit. Kuroo had eyes, alright?

He wondered if Tsukishima really could read his mind, because his smile fell, his cheeks lighting up beautifully in an innocent red, so different from the usual seriousness. Kuroo loved it.

Tsukishima bit his lip, his breathing stuttering, like he wanted so badly to second guess his next words. They rushed out before he could. "Just me?"

Oh. Oh.

Tsukishima's eyes closed, and he turned back to the ocean, letting the mist spray. He looked like he wanted the ground to eat him. Adorable.

But he didn't pull away, he let Kuroo's hand stay resting against his way too skinny wrist, the smooth skin warm under the touch.

What kind of answer was he expecting, Kuroo wondered. What an overthinker.

Kuroo sighed, like a fawning high-schooler, and tightened his grip. "Well, yeah. Of course."

When Tsukishima looked back, Kuroo thought for a moment he saw a similar expression. He tried not to die on the spot.

Then, he almost did.

"You make me angry you know," Tsukishima sighed, ignoring the way Kuroo's jaw nearly dropped onto the floor. Well then.

"Me?!" After all that?

"Yes," Tsukishima said, as if it was nothing. "You look at me like I'm so great, but we're the same too, are we not? No degrees, no concrete future, all this baggage..."

Kuroo ignored the stalling of his heart. "Amazing senses of humor..."

"Kuroo."

"A love for dogs?"

"Some stubbornness," Tsukishima shot back.

"Some?" Kuroo asked, jostling Tsukishima's shoulder. "Try mountains of it."

They laughed, and Kuroo wondered if that would be the end of it. If Tsukishima was going to try and comfort him, he wouldn't survive.

The same? As Tsukishima? Not in a million years, but if Tsukishima thought so, Kuroo had to try his best to live up to that view. He wasn't worthy of it, and yet...

It made his heart expand, seeing Tsukishima smile at him like that. "I'm just saying, I think they look up to you plenty," he said glancing towards the car. "Not just me."

Then, before Kuroo could unleash a string of denial, Tsukishima walked away, his back turned. Kuroo missed his touch. "And for good reason too."

And Tsukishima had judged him. Just where did the blond get off, saying just what Kuroo needed to hear, and shyly on top of it. Like Kuroo would hate him for it.

For good reason huh?

For the first time, Kuroo thought about believing it.

Kuroo followed after him back to the car, where Terushima was standing waiting for them. Seemed he'd started the tire change job. Kuroo helped Tsukishima finish it in silence, the rest of the group eyeing Terushima with poorly concealed concern. But Kuroo knew there was no reason to worry now.

As Tsukishima piled the toolkit back into the car some minutes later, with everyone loading back into their respective spots, the leader finally allowed himself to speak.

Before he climbed in, Terushima opened the back door, revealing a rather amusing, shell shocked Futakuchi.

The brunet stuttered, his seatbelt not even properly fastened yet, and they stared at each other, what Kuroo guessed to be years of tension and friendship accumulating into a singular moment. And then, relief.

"I'm sorry," Terushima ended up saying, after too long of a silence, small and fragile in the night air. Futakuchi's entire being softened, so instantly, like he'd never been mad at all. Kuroo knew Terushima had chosen the right team, and the best second in command.

Terushima dipped his head in Suga and Yamamoto's direction, because he knew it was necessary. Wanted to. "I'm sorry to all of you."

Kuroo got into his own seat, right behind Tsukishima, looking one last time at the group's silent meeting.

From the looks on their faces, Kuroo could tell there was nothing to forgive.

--

With all other problems somewhat put to rest, it was no wonder the conversation came back around to Tsukishima.

"I still don't get how you know where you're going," Suga whispered, watching as old beat up buildings passed them by. They'd abandoned the coast some time ago, the smell of ocean salt replaced with familiar city smog. "I don't think I've ever been to this neighborhood and I've lived here my entire life."

"My brother liked to explore, and I got tired of always getting lost after..." Tsukishima stopped, and Terushima looked up from where he'd been flipping through his phone. "After things started."

The tension Kuroo and Terushima could now pick up on stayed below the radar, but Kuroo wondered for how long.

And besides that, the knot of something suspicious hadn't left him. He had questions, he knew it, but didn't know what they were.

"A marksman, a navigational expert, and a mechanic," Futakuchi said, fake awe drenching his words. "What are you, a Barbie?"

Tsukishima's shoulders tensed up, but no one wanted Tsukishima's eyes off the road, so conflict resolution was in order. Thank god Terushima was a good leader when his head was clear.

"Hey man, leave it alone," Terushima said, but his voice had lost the edge, had regained his amusement, but with newfound respect. Tsukishima's shoulders seemed to relax, and Futakuchi shrugged.

All should've been left alone, but Kuroo never was good at ignoring gut instincts.

"It is cool though," Kuroo said, swallowing. "That you know how to do that stuff."

"Useful things from my loving father I guess," Tsukishima said with a stiff shrug. "My brother used to say he could change tires faster than me but that's a lie, and it always will be."

"I'm sure your brother would most assuredly disagree," Suga said with a laugh, and Tsukishima's eyes twinkled in the rearview mirror at the thought of a challenge.

"He hasn't had practice in a long time," Tsukishima said, confident in the way Kuroo normally loved. "Though...I might be a little rusty, before tonight I haven't changed one since..."

And as heavy as that beat of silence was, Kuroo latched onto it.

"Since?" He encouraged, too eagerly. He felt Yamamoto's eyes on him.

Tsukishima shrugged, but it was different this time. His voice tried to remain flippant, casual. It failed. "Year one maybe, not sure."

When are you ever not sure?

Right.

"If you two could stop drooling over each other that would be good," Futakuchi said, unaware of the vortex of strain present between them. Kuroo's admiration wasn't uncommon after all, it was the best assumption. But...

"Seriously, just date already," Suga agreed.

Again, no denial from Tsukishima. None whatsoever. It just added to Kuroo's theory, bolstered it.

"You're one to talk," Tsukishima muttered, going along with it, now steadfastly ignoring glancing into the mirror.

"Hey!"

Kuroo did not listen to the rest of the pointless arguing.

Tsukishima had never, not even once, pushed those accusations away. Of feeling something for Kuroo. Kuroo didn't care, he was pretty sure part of him would adore Tsukishima no matter what, would probably come to love him beyond this one night if given the chance.

But they'd just met. In any normal situation, it wouldn't make sense for Tsukishima, someone so logical and reserved, to feel that way.

Unless of course, Tsukishima knew more than he let on, had far more in his heart than he allowed to slip.

"Hey, Tsukishima," Kuroo asked, interrupting something Futakuchi seemed to be babbling about. His voice must've been scary, because all conversation immediately stopped. "Where were you the first year? When the Purge started. Do you remember?"

Now, that was something they all wanted to know, and they leaned in. Except Terushima, who by now must've detected the brewing storm. He watched Kuroo like a hawk.

Tsukishima's eyes stayed on the road. "I was leaving school, I was running late."

Kuroo's hands tightened against the leather of the chair in front of him. He hadn't even noticed he'd leaned forward. "How come?"

And then, the blond's defenses kicked in, and Kuroo knew.

You're--

Tsukishima snapped, the speed of the car picking up, like the acceleration would drown out the speech. "What does it matter?"

"I want to know," Kuroo replied, speaking above the sounds of the car. Suga squawked from the new, sudden speed somewhere behind him.

"Too bad then," Tsukishima replied, taking another nonsensical turn onto a desolate street. "I don't like to remember stuff like that."

I know, but that's not what I meant, you know it.

"You're lying," Kuroo replied, and he wondered if in any other situation, they might've looked like a fighting married couple. "How much did you know me back then? How much really?"

Terushima spoke up, trying to get Kuroo's attention with a few taps to the glove box. "Hey! Hey Kuroo, dude, calm down, what--"

"I didn't," Tsukishima hissed, entirely too unconvincing for someone who had experienced his genuine honesty. He had to know Kuroo had figured it out. Why was he still on about this? "I just...knew you, everyone knew you. You were popular and I--"

You what? Why wouldn't you just talk to me?

Then, he couldn't take it anymore. Such an important event, it had altered Kuroo's opinions, his life, and now he knew who was responsible. "You were the one who changed my tire, weren't you?"

You saved me.

Tsukishima saved more than his life too, his will to go on, to believe in people.

"Why--why would you do that for me?" Kuroo asked, breathless. He wanted to shake Tsukishima and kiss him all at once. This beautiful, stubborn bastard.

The car turned again, the tires screeching, and Kuroo didn't care where they were or where they were going. He just wanted to hear Tsukishima admit it.

Suga yelled something about slowing down, Terushima's scoldings got lost in the mix, and then the car jolted.

"Enough!" Tsukishima yelled, slamming on the brakes as he pulled perfectly into one parking spot in an otherwise empty lot, the fog of the early morning filling the space. The car's ignition was cut, and quiet filled the space apart from Tsukishima occasional huffs. Kuroo squinted, looking out towards the only other source of light.

Where were they--oh are you serious?

"Oh hey," Yamamoto said happily, like the past few minutes had meant absolutely nothing to him. "McDonald's."

No one else seemed to share the immediate enthusiasm, at least, not for the same reasons.

Tsukishima sat frozen, staring ahead, the inevitable coursing through his mind.

Kuroo sighed to himself, leaning back. Okay, he could've handled this better, but knowing he'd been right...

He didn't know where to start.

But Terushima seemed willing to push.

"Welp," the leader said, awkwardly patting his thigh. "Thanks Tsukishima, we sure were hungry. Right guys?"

"Uh duh."

"Absolutely."

"Mmhm."

The strained chorus made Kuroo's ears hurt.

"Yeah see?" Terushima fastened his gun to his hip, glancing out the window. No threats in sight. "So you know what, we're just gonna...go on ahead of you guys and see if we can get in. You just...stay here and talk about...stuff. 'kay?"

No response.

"Alright then, bye." Terushima flung his door open, scurrying out with the rest of his group towards the fried safe haven.

God.

Each door slammed collectively, quickly, until the silence settled in again. Kuroo watched the group as they got smaller, footsteps heading towards the golden arches with purpose. They couldn't leave them out there too long by themselves, even Kuroo with his current mindset knew that.

So, he needed to find his courage for the thousandth time that night it seemed. For Tsukishima, Kuroo had no problems with it. The blond had been brave enough for all of them all night.

Plus, Kuroo had sort of ambushed him...

Whoops.

Yet, looking at those tense shoulders in the seat in front of him, Kuroo only felt fondness in his heart. He owed Tsukishima more than he realized, and he wanted nothing more than to repay that kindness as soon as possible.

And maybe for the rest of time.

Fuck this party.

It wasn't a sentiment Terushima often felt, especially when he was the one who planned this party in the first place.

That's what he got for copying one answer from his lab partner last week, he just knew it.

Still, this night was cruel and unusual punishment. It was supposed to be perfect; plenty of booze, the best sound system, all his friends...

His best friend, in particular, looking hot as fuck in those jeans...

No. Nope.

Terushima would not fall into this trap, not even as chocolate brown eyes gazed at him, predatory and mocking from across the floor. This was not how thing were supposed to go.

How had he gotten here?

Terushima planned to be busy enjoying the party until the early hours of the morning, maybe he'd even find time to play matchmaker for his denser friends who'd been stupidly pining for months.

(He had quite a lot of those cases. Losers.)

For someone who'd never been in a relationship, he was shockingly good at giving love advice. A curse, apparently.

Not like it mattered, his sights were pretty set. So, might as well bring others together.

"N-no way! Not happening!"

If he didn't kill them all first (god, this smile is starting to hurt). But he wouldn't, he loved them. How much he loved them depended entirely on how dumb they were being.

Terushima sighed internally, even as his grin shined brighter, the alcohol sloshing in his cup. Never let people see you give up, that's what his dad always used to tell him. And he took the advice to heart, vague Rick Astley references aside. Terushima knew he carried an air of positivity people could fight him over, goddammit.

And oh, they'd try to. No respect.

Seriously. They called him hopeless. At least when Terushima acted oblivious it was on purpose.

Somewhere through the process of trying to get Oikawa to finally suck face with Ushijima Wakatoshi (yes Terushima wanted his uni's season tickets), he ended up in a decent sized circle on the suspiciously stained carpet, a bottle in the center.

He was fairly sure the Miyas had led him there, eager to get out of it, and Terushima for whatever reason had let them. Like a dumb horse to water, if that water was a mirage.

Did that make sense?

Probably not. He wanted more wine.

Then, his hell had begun, as Futakuchi plopped his fine self right across from him.

Immediate, agonizing tunnel vision.

This was war.

It was also how he ended up listening to Shirabu fiercely argue against kissing Semi as if he didn't totally dream about it in his sleep every night. Even the universe wants them together, wow.

"Satan works in mysterious ways," Futakuchi said, echoing Terushima's thoughts in an even more accurate way, like he always did. Shirabu scowled, but Futakuchi didn't shrink back in the slightest.

Terushima hid his snicker behind his hand. Fuck. True.

His eyes flashed up for a split second, meeting his best friends, and the world closed in on Futakuchi, like it always seemed to lately. Emotions and hormones aside, it was a crime he hadn't gotten to properly hang out with him yet....

But. Hormones and emotions considered, Futakuchi really did look good.

Black skinny jeans accompanied his old beat up running shoes, and Terushima was one hundred percent sure that was his old hoodie. It didn't surprise him; they'd known each other for years. Too many hang outs and sleepovers to count, it made sense that along the way they'd end up swapping clothes.

Now though, at this age, at this time, it felt different, charged. Terushima craved, and with those strong legs proudly displayed in his field of vision, it was hard to resist. Somewhere along the way, Terushima hadn't noticed his feelings turning from platonic to I would kiss you for eternity, but he wasn't surprised. Most things with Futakuchi felt right.

Terushima swallowed as Futakuchi smiled back, leg bouncing impatiently as he waited for his turn.

It felt like such a middle school stunt, to hope those lips would press against his.

And maybe that was why Terushima hated this game so much right then. If he had to see Futakuchi kiss someone else...

Ugh. No. Party killer.

Despite that, he felt his hand clutch his cup tighter, threatening to crumple it completely, and he echoed the grade school chant inside his head. Pleasepleaseplease.

As pathetic as it might've been, at least he had a distraction...

"Can we just get this over with?" Semi muttered, the tops of his cheeks brighter than Terushima's solo cup, and he had to refrain from rolling his eyes.

That was Tsukishima's job, but naturally he was absent right when Terushima needed him. Where was he? Who knew. Probably not suffering spin the bottle at home with Kuroo. No, they wouldn't need that would they? They could just jump right into the sex without all this fucked up foreplay.

Living the dream. What winners.

The peck Semi placed against Shirabu's lips before fleeing to the other side of the room was applause worthy, truly.

Oh god, maybe he was turning into Tsukishima. Whatever, he was still smiling, it was fine.

Until about two seconds later.

"Kenji-kun, it's your turn," one of the girls in the group giggled, and the light blush on her face made Terushima squirm.

Jealousy was not fun, not fun at all, and he hated it.

He...wasn't so good yet at handling those kinds of emotions. Negative ones, but healthy ones. He was getting better, slowly, surely.

Still, his palms sweat as Futakuchi's long fingers gripped the bottle, brown eyes flicking up momentarily to meet Terushima's.

Then, he spun.

He could see the moment Futakuchi held his breath, the air of fake coolness he'd built up around himself disappearing. Gone was his friend's signature wolfish grin and twinkle of mischief in his eyes, replaced by clenched fists and a determined frowned.

Oh.

So Terushima was in love. That was cool. What better place to realize something like that, than at an awesome party?

It settled in him as the bottle slowed to a stop, right in front of him. Futakuchi, who'd helped Terushima through school embarrassment fiascos, who’d helped him sneak out of the house, who’d watched him snort milk out of his nose that one time in middle school (gross, by the way).

It made sense.

The small group erupted into a chorus of "oos" when the bottle stopped, but Terushima didn't hear them, didn't even care about the girl's pout as she realized she wouldn't get to kiss the most gorgeous boy in the room.

For once, Terushima wished he didn't talk trash about all his friends' love lives, their obliviousness and pining. He was not better. Yet, he couldn't focus on that either, he'd realize it later.

Right then, it was all about Futakuchi as he slowly crawled the few feet separating them, teeth dug into his bottom lip. Heh. He never did let go of that habit.

A shiver ran down Terushima's spine at the view of his best friend, the one he wanted most, crawling towards him like something out of a wet dream, pupils blown wide before they'd so much as touched.

Terushima imagined he wasn't much better, but when Futakuchi's lips met his, they didn't fall into each other like the movies, or smash together, like some desperate porno.

Nothing fantastic really did happen, on the outside.

Terushima's eyes fluttered closed, because nothing about Futakuchi ever made him truly nervous. If they were terrible at kissing, so be it. They'd learn. Quickly.

Terushima talked a big game only in his head though.

When Futakuchi's lips pressed against his, impossibly innocent given both of their fake reputations, it was more like a ghost of a kiss, stuck between the realm of reality and fantasy. Shy, but certain, a peck that packed a punch.

Futakuchi smelled the same as he always did, like sandalwood, refreshing, but bold. Terushima breathed in, deep, savoring the feeling of soft lips, wishing he had the guts to tug on them with his teeth. Guess it wasn't the time, no matter how badly his mind wanted to take it further.

Terushima's entire body relaxed instead, and a second later, when it was over, he had to stop himself from chasing the sensation again.

The mix of claps and boos he heard (because really, what kind of kiss was that?), faded away as Futakuchi slowly moved back to his spot, eyes wide, cheeks warm, like he'd realized the exact same thing Terushima had.

The game continued, but they were both ready to call it quits.

--

Shockingly, and by that he meant not shockingly at all, Semi's turn caused the end of the game. Jeez. If Shirabu was so deadset on being this possessive, the least he could do was make a move.

Although, in this instance, Terushima wanted to hug and twirl him like he'd just saved his life. There hadn't been any words or formal exchange between he and Futakuchi as the group disbanded; they stayed on the floor a second too long, and then wordlessly, Terushima followed him into the nearest room, shutting out the noise of the party.

Then and only then did he understand how real this was. Futakuchi turned on him as soon as the door shut, and Terushima leaned against it, cup ditched along the way.

He didn't know what to do with his hands for once, especially when his first impulse was to pull his best friend close.

Yeah, up close he could confirm it. That was definitely his hoodie.

"Wow," he sighed aloud, because what was the point in holding that back? He'd always told Futakuchi the truth, so best to get it out of the way. For whatever reason, his nerves weren't all over the place. No sweat, no fidgeting, he felt as cozy as he usually did in the brunet's presence. Even in the humid house filled with tons of people, alcohol lightly buzzing through his veins.

Not enough to blame his actions on in the morning though, no more excuses.

The brunet's eyes widened as he looked behind him and then around the room, like Terushima couldn't possibly be staring at him. Pft, what else am I gonna stare at.

For someone who acted so smooth and carefree, he could be so clueless.

Terushima too, but...that meant they were perfect for each other right?

Bleh. Tsukishima would have a field day with that.

"I'm looking at you loser," Terushima said with a small smirk, watching with joy as Futakuchi's face gave him the desired reaction. He liked to rile people up on the court, but he was a pretty easy target himself.

"Watch who you're calling loser, loser." Yeah neither of them had quite graduated above middle school level insults in their time together. Futakuchi could roast anyone else like it was his job, but when it came to Terushima...

Nothing.

Then the brunet's face dissolved into genuine worry as he put a palm on his face. Nervous. Cute.

Terushima swallowed.

"Is there something on my face?" Futakuchi asked, and Terushima wondered if it was purely because Terushima was there. Would he care about his looks otherwise?

The jealousy burned and died out in a second. No, Terushima didn't think he would.

Still, what a dumbass; Terushima had seen him look so much worse, and loved him anyways.

Love. Right. I just figured that out.

"No."

Yeesh, anymore simple answers and Futakuchi would deck him. He'd take it happily at this point. Terushima's new revelation was settling in, he could hardly hold his grin back, the beating of his heart rising to a concerning speed.

Futakuchi's eyes twitched, and he huffed. "Then why are you staring?"

"I don't know," Terushima said, totally knowing. And again, screw it. He didn't hide from his best friend. "I like your face, I stare at it a lot." Then, with a pout, "damn, relax."

"Don't tell me to relax! You--wait...what?" Futakuchi's annoyance dissolved into something soft, the childlike wonder Terushima was familiar with, and the urge in his gut to kiss him only grew. "What did you say?"

God this is embarrassing, you should know this.

In fact, judging from the high blush forming on his face, Futakuchi did know. They've known for a long time, it was the whole reason they were in this room, hungry for more.

But they always had to challenge each other, natural born leaders, but giving each other the chance to step up first.

Guess that's me this time.

"I said I like your face," Terushima mumbled, staring at his shoes. There went his bravado, ugh. This was so lame, he hated it. "Love it even, love..."

Then his blush came, spreading to the tips of his ears and down his neck, destroying any last semblances of a smooth delivery. "I love you."

I love you.

Oh, it was easy. He knew it was true, he hadn't expected it to be easy.

Shit. Holy fucking shit.

Terushima's eyes flashed up at the same time Futakuchi barreled forward, slamming into him and making the door shake against their combined weight. So eager to hide his face...

Terushima's heart completely melted.

"You--you're the worst you know?" Futakuchi said, trying to hide his stutter. Terushima could feel the heat of his face against his neck, and tried not to let a shutter rack his frame. He'd held his friend close so many times before, but now he really savored it, never wanted it to end.

"Yes," he answered, too in a daze to care.

"I was going to say it, and way better too."

"Uh huh." He wasn't trying to be a smart ass, he was genuinely still too in shock, but he didn't know if Futakuchi knew that.

Futakuchi sighed, like he was so unbelievably inconvenienced, but his grip on Terushima only tightened. "Whatever, now you can brag all you want."

"Mmhm."

"A-and just so you know, I love you too and I totally knew first because--"

"Kenji?" Terushima breathed out, like he'd run a mile right before, his lungs struggling from finally hearing those words from his best friend's lips. 'I love you.'

Futakuchi didn't move. "Uh, yeah?"

“Kiss me like you mean it this time, alright?" Terushima said, trying to be as bold as possible. He had a reputation, but he was pretty sure it came out tiny, shyer than he'd ever sounded.

Futakuchi didn't care.

The brunet pulled back in an instant, only giving Terushima a glance of his stunning eyes before he was claiming Terushima's lips, rough and needy, just the way he'd expect it.

Terushima responded before he could even register what was happening, his body had been craving this for so longer, longer than he knew. He backed Futakuchi up until his knees hit the small bed, and the brunet took it from there, always following Terushima's lead perfectly.

They fell into each other, and Terushima sucked on his bottom lip, nipping playfully without making any real demands. He'd let Futakuchi ask for that.

The press of their lips was intoxicating enough, soft, but way better than during the game. Terushima could move this time, could take and take.

He knew what to do with his hands now.

He pulled Futakuchi closer, fingers tightened in his hair, sliding down his neck and chest, unsure of where to settle. Terushima wanted everything.

Futakuchi eventually rose to his challenge, tongue flicking out against the seam of Terushima's lips, light, enticing.

Tease.

Terushima opened his mouth regardless; he could tease later, right then he was impatient, and his tongue met Futakuchi's eagerly. The heat, the wetness...Terushima could feel the hot fan of Futakuchi's labored breathing on his face, and they both refused to pull apart completely, noses bumping every time they took a breath before joining together again.

Futakuchi tasted like cheap alcohol, and Terushima lapped it up, sucking the brunet's tongue with an obscene slurp.

Futakuchi moaned into his mouth, and yeah, Terushima wanted a lot more of that.

The brunet packed his own punch, hands set on messing up Terushima's hair. When they left the room, there'd be no mistaking what they'd done.

Awesome.

Terushima's hand cupped Futakuchi's chin, tilting his head back so he could kiss deeper, not minding the drool there, the sounds.

He didn't think making out could be this messy. He obviously hadn't been doing it right.

"Fuck," Futakuchi said, and it made Terushima's mind swim. Yeah, we should.

But this bed was small, and there was no telling who could come looking for them...

Then Futakuchi rolled against him, hips searching, and most of Terushima's arguments flew out the window. Okay yeah, they had to do something about this here.

"Wait, wait," Terushima breathed, wiping some of the drool from his chin as he broke away. The loud 'pop' made him nearly come on the spot. He felt like he was fourteen again, so out of control of his own body, but this time he wasn't weak to every piece of porn or risque photo. This was all Futakuchi's doing. "I want more."

His hips rolled against the brunet's for emphasis, dragging a shaky exhale out of them both. He could probably come just like this, but...

Something nagged at the back of his head, something he desperately wanted to try.

Futakuchi's eyes twinkled with pure mischief even as his voice shook, his tongue swiping over his top lip. Terushima had never seen anything sexier. "Well no complaints here. How do you--"

"I wanna do it," Terushima said, too fast, too blunt, but he kept his eyes fixed on Futakuchi, unwavering. He was serious about this, as serious as one could be about...well...

"Do--do what?" Futakuchi asked, and the blush only spurred Terushima on further. Seeing his friend so flustered for him, when usually he was all smug smiles and taunts...it made him want to devour him on sight.

Terushima untangled himself from Futakuchi, scooting the brunet's hips to the edge of the bed, and falling to his knees. Explanation enough.

"Oh, o-oh okay, yeah," Futakuchi babbled, chest heaving, but Terushima's became preoccupied with looking at the bulge growing in his best friends pants. "Are you--"

"Oh, I'm sure," Terushima said, heady and a little choked, but he guessed he'd sound even more so in a few minutes. He couldn't wait.

Now, he had no real experience with blowjobs, unless porn counted (it didn't). But the thought of making Futakuchi squirm, having his cum shoot down his throat...

It was so weirdly enticing, something Terushima never pondered before, but now he felt like he had to try it or he'd go mad.

He popped the button on Futakuchi's jeans, shimmied them down along with his underwear, and felt his mouth water.

Yeah, he definitely wanted this.

Futakuchi was heavy in his hand, longer than he would've expected, but the fact excited him more than anything. Precum beaded at the tip, dribbling onto Terushima's thumb when he pressed against it, and Futakuchi's leg twitched in response.

Squirmy...

Terushima smirked, pumping him slow, letting precum coat his hand and slick up Futakuchi's dick, the sounds filling the room. He loved those noises, loved the way Futakuchi's thighs parted more when he heard them.

Futakuchi's legs trembled, more evidence for Terushima's hypothesis. Futakuchi moved a lot, each surge of pleasure activating a reflex, like a hit to the knee, making his mouth part and his back arch.

"G-get on with it," Futakuchi growled, like he realized how much Terushima was enjoying this, and wanted to slap that smirk off his face. Yeah, nothing had changed, and it made Terushima's smirk dissolve into a fond grin.

Only for a second though.

"Whatever you say," Terushima said, chuckling to himself, and then he licked his lips, finally sliding them over the head of Futakuchi's cock.

The reaction came right away; Futakuchi jerked, mouth open in a choked gasp, a moan not given the chance to develop as the electricity spiked through him. Terushima's own cock throbbed in his pants, and he messily fiddled with his zipper, bringing it out to give it a few relieving strokes.

Then, it was back to the task at hand. He moved down Futakuchi's cock slowly, getting used to the girth, the feeling, foreign but not unwelcome. He swallowed around it, only making it about halfway. He'd have to get better at that, but with how Futakuchi was trying to cant his hips forward, he didn't feel inadequate.

The response gratified him in ways he couldn't comprehend, and Terushima's tongue licked at the bitter moisture leaking at the tip as he pulled back. He inhaled the musky scent as he went down a second time; it was easier, and the rhythm began to establish itself, wet and messy.

Curious, he sucked his cheeks in, uncaring of the mix of spit and precum leaking out of the corner of his mouth.

"Fuck, Yuuji..." Futakuchi threw his head back, his hand gripping Terushima's mess of hair, and goddamn. Terushima moaned around the cock in his mouth, picking up the pace.

The sounds were obscene, the mixture of his choking and groans as he tried his best to perform, to make Futakuchi see stars. Hearing his name was just the last straw, and he sucked Futakuchi off in earnest, experimenting along the way with different pressures, techniques...

He drank up every reaction he got, from hair tugs to jerks, keeping his hands planted firmly on Futakuchi's hips to keep him from bucking.

His friend was strong, it was harder than he thought, but somehow even that pleased him.

You feel good huh? That's because of me...

"Oh shit, hah--like that," Futakuchi moaned, guiding Terushima's head this time, like a sleeve, controlling every movement. The heat was overwhelming as Terushima stared up at him, pupils blown and fired up with lust and adoration.

Yeah babe, I'll do whatever you want.

He'd make sure to tell Futakuchi that later, when he asked him to be his boyfriend properly. Yeesh, considering how stereotypical they were, with the childhood friends thing, one would think they'd go in the right order.

They'd never liked doing what was expected though.

When Futakuchi's moans turned to quick, cut up whimpers, his legs hiking up until it rest upon Terushima's shoulder, pulling him closer...Terushima knew he was close.

"H-hey," Futakuchi said, tugging on his hair, and Terushima moaned, loud and obnoxious, but genuine all the same. Fuck, he was going to come so hard. He rutted his hips forward, bringing one hand down to jerk himself off, unconcerned with finesse. "Yuuji, I'm gonna--you should move--"

He could see Futakuchi's abdomen tightened, and Terushima ignored the warning, sinking down as deep as he could go, the pain a small price to pay as Futakuchi froze, hovering at the edge, before warm cum slipped into Terushima's mouth and down his throat.

As expected, Futakuchi gave him a show, thighs trembling, hips jolting upwards as he worked through his orgasm, mouth open in a silent cry.

It was no wonder Terushima came so fast, seeing something like that. He swallowed every drop of Futakuchi he could, pulling back as his own orgasm hit. Some of the cum he couldn't catch stayed on his cheek, and it must've been a sight, because Futakuchi shuttered, eyes trained on Terushima as he watched him fall apart on the floor.

Terushima liked to exaggerate, it was fun, but that was absolutely the best damn orgasm he'd ever had in his life. His toes curled, and his eyes shut tight, the heat in his gut finding release until he was over-sensitive and boneless.

Sorry carpet.

Terushima laughed stupidly at his own joke, reaching for a tissue at the bedside as Futakuchi flopped down onto his back.

"Fuck," the brunet mumbled, stretching out, and Terushima watched his form shamelessly as he pulled his pants back up.

"I know, and I know for a fact I'm not even good at that yet," Terushima said, smirking even as Futakuchi glared at him. "Someone's sensi--ow!"

Embroidered pillows were the devil he decided, and they fucking hurt.

"Idiot," Futakuchi threw back, but the fondness in his voice made Terushima grin, pillow bruises forgotten. He felt shyer then, which really made no sense after...yeah. Futakuchi brought that out in him apparently. Lying gently next to his best friend, they didn't speak, facing each other like in their old sleepovers. Their legs hung off the edge, hands too scared to touch.

They were ridiculous, and Terushima loved it.

"But I'm your idiot," Terushima said, but the confidence he tried to carry didn't hold up, fading into something unsure, questioning. "Right?"

He hoped so. He had to know it too, after the confessions, the emotions locked in Futakuchi's eyes...

Yet, part of him was afraid they'd just go back to how they'd always been, dancing around the subject while it screamed at them.

Futakuchi must've felt the same way though, done with avoiding it.

Nodding, the brunet smiled, small and genuine, just for Terushima. It warmed him to the core. "Somehow I think you were always my idiot."

Terushima knocked a pillow on top of the brunet's head, and Futakuchi laughed, accepting it. They'd both deserved it, deserved each other. They were awesome after all, and no one brought that out for them better than each other.

Terushima closed the gap first, linking their hands together, and wasn't too proud to admit he never wanted to let go.