Archive of Our Own

When Oikawa shows up unannounced at Bokuto and Kuroo’s apartment early in the morning, he’s greeted by Bokuto, whose grin is so wide it’s nearly splitting his face. Bokuto ushers him in immediately, linking their arms together. “Hey, hey, you’re just in time! Tetsu’s making us lunch.”

There’s something about the Bokuto says ‘us’ that makes Oikawa’s chest flutter. Because it sounds like he means the three of them, as if Oikawa’s presence in their apartment is an expected thing.

“Smells good,” Oikawa murmurs. The scent of rich, tangy spices wafts through the apartment, and Oikawa’s mouth is already starting to salivate as they make their way into the cramped kitchen.

Kuroo is standing by the stove, hair disheveled, sweatpants clinging low on his hips, brows furrowed as he licks some sauce from own his fingertips. It’s an unfair sight, one Oikawa has no intention of disrupting - when suddenly his traitorous stomach growls.

Kuroo looks over his shoulder, a lazy grin playing on his lips. He waves a sauce-smeared ladle in greeting. “Do you just let yourself in whenever you feel like it now?”

Oikawa doesn’t take the complaint seriously, not when Kuroo’s already setting out a bowl of curry for him. He pouts anyway, though. “You said I could come by whenever, remember? Were you not being sincere, Kuro-chan?”

A month after Oikawa moved into the apartment below theirs, Kuroo and Bokuto had left him a note reassuring him he could come over whenever he needed anything, be it a cup of a sugar or a study buddy.

“Bo said you could come over whenever,” Kuroo argues. He digs through the drawers in search of the nice utensils, not looking back at them as he wags an accusing finger at Oikawa. “You’re like one of those stray cats they warn people not to feed.”

Oikawa waves this off. “Oh please, don’t pretend like you don’t find me endearing. It’s embarrassing for the both of us.”

“I do not,” Kuroo chokes.

Bokuto snorts and dips his finger in the sauce when Kuroo’s not paying attention. “He does.”

Oikawa laughs, delighted. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have invited me in for dinner when we met.”

“Feh, I had no choice after you presented us with that scorched monstrosity you called a pie.”

Right, the infamous pie. Oikawa’s failed attempt at being neighborly. He’d nearly burnt down his apartment baking it, and by the time he’d finished, the pie’s crust was seared charcoal black. At least Bokuto and Kuroo had been good sports about it.

Bokuto nods sympathetically. “We couldn’t just let you starve, you’re too pretty. It wouldn’t be right.”

Oikawa bites the inside of his cheek, a flush coloring his cheeks as he leans against the countertop. “The utensils are in the third drawer, by the way. Right above where you guys put the tupperware,” he kindly reminds Kuroo.

Kuroo gives Oikawa a skeptical look but crouches down and checks the drawer anyway. He smiles in bemusement when he finds the utensils exactly where Oikawa said they’d be.

“Told you so,” Oikawa hums.

Kuroo tilts his head to the side, his eyes narrowed as he wipes his hands against the red apron around his waist. “Remind me again whose apartment this is?”

Ignoring the question, Oikawa breezes past him and pulls open the fridge. He picks up the orange juice, frowning when he shakes it and finds that the jug’s nearly out. “Hey, you guys are almost out of juice.”

“Are you seeing this?” Kuroo asks Bokuto in exasperation.

Bokuto nods. “Yeah, babe, we should really pick up more next time we’re at the store.”

Kuroo looks between them helplessly. A moment later, the fight drains from him, his shoulder loosening as he places Oikawa’s bowl on the counter. “Here, just eat your damn curry.”

~*~

“It’s my turn to pick to movie this time, I have dibs.” Oikawa looks over meaningfully at Kuroo, who’s sitting nearby on the couch with his feet curled beneath Oikawa’s thigh.

“I thought it was Bo’s turn this time.”

“Nope, that was last week,” sing-songs Oikawa, smirking when Kuroo reluctantly surrenders the remote.

“Eh? Well, guests don’t get a turn,” Kuroo argues, his lips crooked in a teasing grin when he tries to snatch the remote back a moment later. Kuroo rises onto his knees and plants one hand on Oikawa’s side, forefinger wiggling against where Oikawa’s ticklish as he grapples for the remote. Oikawa squeaks and rolls over onto his back, hiding the remote beneath his chest and wailing when Kuroo’s fingers dig against his sides.

It’s then that Bokuto returns from the kitchen, hardly giving them enough time to pull apart before he’s flopping down on the couch between them, popcorn bowl in hand. “Hey, hey! Oikawa’s an honorary household member!” Bokuto tells Kuroo as he loops an arm around Oikawa’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Oikawa croons. He sticks his tongue out at Kuroo, “I’m an honorary member.”

Kuroo rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning as he turns back to the television. “Just don’t pick anything shitty.”

“If I choose another sci-fi, are you going to spend the night picking it apart? Or are you going to behave this time?” Oikawa asks, voice saccharine sweet. He knows he’s pushing it, but the withering look Kuroo gives him is worth it. Popcorn spills from Bokuto’s mouth as his gold eyes dart between them.

“It’s not my fault there were several plot holes—”

“It was WALL-E!” Oikawa says incredulously. “And you cried.”

“We could always re-watch Spaceballs,” Bokuto suggests. His buttery fingers are clenched in the hoarded popcorn like a crane as he lifts the bowl out of Kuroo’s reach, his other arm still draped around Oikawa’s shoulder.

Oikawa strokes his chin in consideration. “I think can agree to that.”

“Good, then it’s settled.” Kuroo turns his attention to Bokuto. “Tch, stop hogging the popcorn. We said we’d share.”

“M’hungry though.”

“I’ll revoke your bowl-holding privileges,” Kuroo threatens when Bokuto moves the bowl again.

Bokuto gasps. “Not if I lick the popcorn first!”

Kuroo holds Bokuto’s gaze, his eyes narrowed in challenge. “You wouldn’t.”

Oikawa and Kuroo exchange a look of disgust over his head, both making low, gagging noises at the back of their throats as Bokuto unabashedly lowers his whole face into the bowl.

“Bo, you bastard!”

The problem with spending the vast majority of his time with two people who are dating is that, even though they’re careful not to make Oikawa feel like a third wheel, it’s difficult to ignore his outsider status when they’re huddled together on the couch like this. Oikawa’s only vaguely paying any attention to the movie at this point, too hyper-aware of each subtle movement from beside him. From the corner of his vision, he can see Kuroo’s thumb stroking absently against Bokuto’s thigh, Bokuto’s legs stretching out across Kuroo’s lap.

As if sensing Oikawa’s unease, Bokuto leans back and nestles his head beneath Oikawa’s arm. A tentative smile curls Oikawa’s lips at Bokuto’s raucous, full-bodied laugh.

Oikawa can feel the pleasant weight of Bokuto pressed against his side, the other boy’s gelled hair tickling him when it brushes along the inner side of Oikawa’s arm. In the gentle dimness of the television, Bokuto’s streaked white hair is nearly glowing, and Oikawa suddenly has the strangest impulse to weave his fingers through it.

Oikawa shakes his head and immediately banishes the stray thought. A twinge of guilt runs through him, his ears now tinged red. He hopes it’s too dark for either of them to notice. Bokuto nuzzles a little closer against his stomach, and that's the last straw.

“I should head back to my place soon. It’s getting late,” Oikawa abruptly announces.

Bokuto tilts his head and blinks up at Oikawa slowly, his mouth falling open in surprise. “Aw, but we’re not even half way through the movie. Can’t you put off the studying for another day?”

Kuroo raises an eyebrow at Oikawa, and Oikawa's neck prickles under his knowing gaze. Yeah, he definitely has to go.

“Sorry, no can do!” Oikawa ruffles Bokuto’s hair and disentangles himself from them, shrugging apologetically when Bokuto groans at the sudden loss of contact. “I’ll stay for the full thing next time, for sure.”

Kuroo frowns and reasons, “Dude, there’s only another hour or so left.”

“Next time,” Oikawa says, faking a yawn as he adamantly ignoring the way his pulse is still racing.

~*~

When Oikawa spots a giant spider in the corner of his shower at six in the morning, he does what any person would do: he screeches at the top of his lungs and flails blindly for his towel.

In his hurry to escape the shower, he accidentally slams his knee against the rack where he keeps his shampoo and cocoa butter body wash. Oikawa wails again, this time in pain, as he leaps from the shower. The long string of profanities he’s uttering under his breath is interrupted by the sudden knock on his door.

Too flustered to think better of it, Oikawa limps out of washroom and out past the kitchen until he reaches the door and swings it open, still clad in nothing but a towel.

He blinks in surprise when he finds Bokuto and Kuroo standing outside in the lobby, Bokuto in his owl-print boxer briefs and light grey binder, Kuroo wearing low-hung sweats and an unzipped hoodie. The two of them are staring at Oikawa with matching expressions of concern.

“We heard a scream,” Kuroo explains. “We thought—”

“Thank god you’re okay!” Bokuto wraps his arms around Oikawa’s middle, hugging him tightly.

“I’m fine,” Oikawa gasps, unable to breathe when Bokuto squeezes tighter. “Spider. There was a spider.”

Bokuto releases him. He casts a look over Oikawa’s shoulder, as if expecting to find a gigantic tarantula tearing through the walls.

“A spider,” Kuroo echoes. He arches a brow. “That’s what you were shouting about?”

Oikawa shudders. He tilts his chin up in defiance. “Eight legs is too many damn legs, Kuro-chan. It’s disturbing. The thing was in my shower, preying on me when I was at my most vulnerable—”

Oikawa’s cheeks flame when Bokuto and Kuroo’s eyes flick towards his bare chest, their gazes slowly traveling lower to where the towel’s wrapped around his waist. He clears his throat loudly, blushing harder when their eyes snap to his face.

Bokuto grins. “A spider, huh? Sounds like a job for your favorite ace! I’ll protect you, Oikawaaa.”

Kuroo casts Bokuto an unimpressed look. “Babe, you can’t just go around calling yourself people’s favorite.”

“I can if it’s true,” Bokuto argues. He frowns. “Wait, where’s your washroom again? I don’t think ever been in your apartment before.”

Kuroo makes a noise of acknowledgement when Oikawa leads them across the room to the washroom. “Yeah, I was beginning to think you were hiding dead bodies in here or something.”

“Har har.”

“Maybe the spider’s just an elaborate cover up,” Kuroo continues, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his sweatpants.

Oikawa almost wishes that were the case but unfortunately, the spider’s very real and it’s now migrated to his washroom sink. Oikawa claps a hand over his mouth and hides behind Bokuto’s broad back. “There,” Oikawa hisses. “It’s in the sink. Do your best, Kou-chan.”

Bokuto smiles toothily at the encouragement. He nods, making a show of cracking his knuckles as he approaches the sink. “Tissues?”

Oikawa points mutely to the rolls of toilet paper stacked beside his toilet. “You’re my hero,” he coos as Bokuto tears off a few sheets from the roll. Oikawa breathes a loud sigh of relief that he can feel safe again sleeping in his apartment with both eyes closed.

“Hey, you’re bleeding,” Kuroo points out. Oikawa peers down to see there’s blood dripping down his knee. It must be from when he’d hurt himself in the shower.

“Shit, I guess I am.”

Kuroo dabs at the cut with a clean tissue and asks, “Do you have a first aid kit around here?”

The guilty look on Oikawa’s face must be telling enough because Kuroo nods and and releases a drawn-out sigh. “Alright. I’ll go get mine.” His smile’s fond as he asks, “What would you do without us?”

I hope I never have to find out, Oikawa thinks. He bites his lip and shrugs. “Starve, probably. Or get eaten by a giant spider.”

Kuroo snorts.

“It’s done,” Bokuto announces gravely as he flushes the spider down the toilet. He washes his hands and dries them off against the front of his binder. “I’m gonna head back with Tetsu. Let me know if you need anything?”

Oikawa smiles gratefully and nods.

Not too long after, Kuroo comes back with a first aid kit in hand. Oikawa leads him back to the scene of the accident and hops up on top of the edge of the sink so that Kuroo can inspect the cut.

“It doesn’t seem deep,” Kuroo tells him, his calloused hand sliding up along the back of Oikawa’s leg. “It’s going to be bruised for a little bit, but otherwise you should be fine in a few days. Just make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

Oikawa nods, his breath hitching when Kuroo drags a cold wet cloth against his skin. He smirks down at Kuroo. “See, I knew you cared.”

Kuroo’s brown eyes meet his.

“You and Kou-chan came running—”

“Yeah, yeah, shut it,” laughs Kuroo from where he’s kneeling between Oikawa’s legs.

Heart beating too fast, Oikawa looks away. He counts it as a victory that Kuroo doesn’t bother denying it anymore.

“Okay, one last thing.” Kuroo leans down and lays a hand to the inner side of Oikawa’s thigh as he retrieves one of the band aids from the kit. The air suddenly sucked from the room as Kuroo peels the band aid from its wrapper and presses it against Oikawa’s wound. Kuroo grins as he smooths his thumb across it.

Oikawa scowls. “Hello Kitty? Seriously?”

“It’s all we have,” Kuroo says, not sounding the least bit apologetic.

“Are you going to kiss it better, too?” Oikawa mocks.

Oikawa regrets it immediately as Kuroo dips down, smirk teasing when he drops a quick kiss to the band aid. Oikawa can’t feel the softness of Kuroo’s lips against his skin, can only feel the brief flutter of them through the band aid, but it’s enough to make Oikawa’s stomach flip.

“There, all better,” Kuroo says, his voice low. He pats Oikawa’s leg and rises to his feet. “I’m going back to bed because some of us don’t have to be up for another hour or so. Good night, Oikawa.”

“Good night,” Oikawa answers, belated.

Oikawa’s not sure long he sits there after Kuroo’s left, his eyes closed, heart pounding as he remembers the warmth of Kuroo’s hand against his thigh, just that it feels like an infinity’s passed before he can breathe again.

~*~

It’s around 6 p.m., Oikawa’s nose pressed between the pages of his textbook, his book propped against his crossed arms when he gets a call from Bokuto.

“Hey! You doin’ anything right now?”

Oikawa casts a furtive glance towards his textbook. “Why?”

“Kuroo’s out late studying for a chemistry midterm final and it’s too—I just—”

Don’t like being alone, Oikawa mentally supplies Bokuto tends to go stir crazy when left in his own company.

“You should come over!” Bokuto continues. “We’ll order something in and we can even watch one of those sci-fi movies you like!” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “And with Tetsu gone, we won’t get yelled at for eating cereal straight out of the box.”

Oikawa contemplates it, his pencil balancing on the bridge of his nose. His original plans had included making himself mac and cheese for the third time this week and watching an episode of Big Brother on one of the three channels that are available to him, a broke university student.

“I’ll be right over.” He can almost feel his physics textbook judging him, but it’s not like he was getting anywhere with his studying.

“Actually.” There’s a short pause. “I’m already standing outside!” Bokuto yells from outside Oikawa’s apartment.

Of course he is.

As Oikawa crosses the room, he hears three short knocks in sequence, two harder ones, a soft tap and then a final echoing rap against the door. “What was that?” Oikawa bites back a smile when he tugs the door open to reveal Bokuto.

“It’s our secret knock,” Bokuto declares, bouncing on his heels like an excited kid. It’s infuriatingly adorable. “That way you’ll always know when it’s me at your door.”

Oikawa smiles slyly and lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Like this?” He raps his knuckles against the door and repeats the knock perfectly, a warmth spreading through him as he watches at Bokuto’s blinding grin.

Bokuto beams. “Exactly like that!” Bokuto peers over Oikawa’s shoulder. “Your place or mine?”

“Yours,” Oikawa answers without thought.

Bokuto laughs, unsurprised.

The truth is that even though Oikawa’s finally finished unpacking his boxes, Bokuto and Kuroo’s apartment has so much life in comparison. Oikawa can’t even study anymore in the silence of his own room, without Kuroo’s K-pop music playing in the background or Bokuto bargaining for extra pocky as a reward for finishing his homework.

Bokuto doesn’t seem to mind; instead he takes it in stride, their hands nearly touching as he guides Oikawa down the hallway by the sleeve of Oikawa’s sweater.

Later, when they’re lying beneath the pillow fort they’ve created, large blankets strewn overhead between the two couches, the two of them submerged in a sea of pillows, Oikawa groans deeply and pats his stomach. “I don’t want to come off as dramatic,” Oikawa says slowly, pushing the last of his sushi away from him, “but if I eat another bite, I’ll die.”

Bokuto looks pointedly between Oikawa and the abandoned sushi. “Can I—”

Before Oikawa can even say yes, Bokuto’s already crouching over Oikawa for it, hoisting a piece of sake sushi above his own parted lips when he remembers himself. “Wait, you weren’t gonna finish this, right?”

Oikawa smiles good-naturedly up at him. “No, it’s fine. You can have the rest. There’s not much left, anyway.”

“You’re the best,” Bokuto crows loudly.

Oikawa watches with a fascinated sort of horror as Bokuto inhales the remaining sushi and adds Bokuto’s weird eating habits to his growing list of things about his neighbor that shouldn’t be charming but somehow are anyway, because it’s Bokuto.

He clears his throat, his face red as his gaze drops to where Bokuto’s still half-straddling his thigh. “No problem.”

“Hey! You should come dancing with Tetsu and me next time,” Bokuto suggests. “The more the merrier, right?” His fingers brush against Oikawa’s fingertips, golden eyes narrowing in on Oikawa’s chipped turquoise nail polish. His eyebrows do a weird dance, knitting together and then pulling part again when he loops their fingers together. “Oh. S’nice color.”

Oikawa tilts his chin against his other hand. “I could do yours sometime, if you want.” Maybe something that used the Fukurodani color scheme or their new team’s—

“That’d be,” Bokuto pauses, looks excited for a moment and then his face falls, lips creasing into a frown. “It looks cool! But I just don’t know if I can...”

It takes a moment before Oikawa understands the pained expression on Bokuto’s face. Shit. His stomach sinks as he realizes his mistake. “Ah, or not, if that’s something you’re uncomfortable with. But.” Oikawa hesitates. “You know, you can wear nail polish and still be super manly. You’d still be you.” Truth be told, Oikawa’s never understood why people assign a gender to proper grooming.

Bokuto regards him skeptically; his shoulders slumped as he looks down at Oikawa’s nails. “You think I’m manly?”

Oikawa disentangles their fingers and reaches up to cup Bokuto’s face in his hands as he clarifies with confidence, “The manliest.”

Bokuto’s grin lights his face. “Kay.”

“Kay,” Oikawa agrees, returning Bokuto’s grin as he drops his hands from Bokuto’s cheeks. “Did you—“

Bokuto leans in, his face precariously close when he suggests, “We should play volleyball! Can you toss for me?”

“I.” Oikawa gapes at the sudden topic change. A moment later he remembers the bad weather. Even through their blanket fortress, Oikawa can hear the harsh rattle of the wind, the rain still tapping against the windows. “It’s raining outside.”

“But, but.” Bokuto pouts, his eyes wide and owlish as he gently shakes Oikawa’s arms.

“Another time. We have practice tomorrow morning anyway, we could—”

Bokuto pouts harder, a feat that shouldn’t be physically possible.

Oikawa caves. He’s only human, after all. “Maybe we could just pass the ball around in here? So long as we’re careful about it. We’d have to disassemble the fort, though.” Good. That’s a reasonable, adult-like compromise, right?

“You’re the best,” Bokuto repeats, throwing his arms around Oikawa. He crawls out from beneath the blankets and disappears into his bedroom, reappearing a moment later with a volleyball. They tear down the fort and toss the sheets haphazardly back onto Bokuto’s queen sized bed.

At first, it’s innocent, just the two of them sitting on opposite couches, passing the ball back and forth. That is, until things escalated into receive practice.

Bokuto flexes his fingers. “Oooikawa, toss!”

Oikawa does.

Unfortunately, out of instinct, Bokuto spikes it.

-- Right into the DNA structure Kuroo had been building. The thing snaps into several small pieces, some of the cotton balls rolling underneath the couch.

“Oops.”

The two of them freeze in place, their jaws hanging open as they stare first at the broken structure and then at each other. Oikawa’s not entirely such who starts it, just that the sudden wheezing, hysteric laughter that escapes both of them is infectious; soon enough they’re both folded over at the knees, clutching at their shaking arms as tears track down their cheeks.

“Oh my god,” Oikawa pants, “Kuro-chan’s gonna kill us.”

~*~

Kuroo doesn’t kill either of them. He does, however, serve them smaller portions when Oikawa invites himself over for soup the next day.

“It doesn’t taste the same,” Bokuto complains. He’s hanging off Kuroo’s back, his chin resting against the crook of Kuroo’s neck.

Oikawa hums in agreement.

“S’cause I didn’t make it with love this time,” Kuroo says seriously, swatting at Bokuto’s hip when Bokuto reaches over to help himself to another serving. “I hope you both like the raw taste of spite.”

“How cruel,” Bokuto whimpers.

Kuroo shrugs Bokuto off of him. “They’ll be no dessert for either of you. I also made pie but I’m not sharing.”

Bokuto makes a noise like he’s been kicked.

“Okay,” Oikawa agrees easily, hopping down from their counter. “Then I guess you don’t want to hear about what happened with apartment 23’s missing pet fiasco.”

Ever since Oikawa moved in a few months ago, Kuroo’s been the person he goes to first with new gossip about their weird neighbors. And dirt on this particular neighbor—their neighbor who goes out of his way to hog all the working laundry machines, who violates the apartment regulations, and codes on a daily basis but who gets away with it because he shamelessly flirts with their landlord—dirt on this neighbor is practically priceless, and Oikawa knows it.

The moment Kuroo whips around to face him, Oikawa knows he’s already won.

“Holy shit, they finally found Daishou’s pet snake?”

“It’s too bad, too,” Oikawa sighs mournfully, continuing as though he hadn’t heard Kuroo. He clicks his fingers against the countertop. “I think you would’ve gotten a real kick out of it.”

Bokuto looks between them, confused.

“I…” Kuroo looks torn. “Okay fine, you’re off my shit list for now, but I want every detail.” He cuts off a slice for Oikawa and slides it towards him as a peace offering.

“Oho, does that mean I’m forgiven, too?” Bokuto asks, hungrily eyeing the pie.

Kuroo leans closer and smiles as he smears flour against the front of Bokuto’s worn shirt. He hooks his thumb beneath Bokuto’s chin and kisses him. “Yeah, you’re forgiven.”

Frowning, Oikawa averts his eyes from the sight of the two of them. He tries and fails to focus instead on the pie in front of him rather than the unsettled feeling in his stomach.

~*~

To put it lightly, it’s been a trying week. First, the convenience store on campus ran out of cup noodles, and then Oikawa’s computer crashed when he was half way through a paper and now this. The proverbial nail in the coffin.

“Oh god, oh please no,” Oikawa mutters as he gapes up at the water pipe in his ceiling. He takes off his shirt and ties it around the leak. It holds up for maybe a moment before the water starts seeping through again, falling in droplets from the damp fabric and then suddenly gushing heavily from the pipe as Oikawa flails and hurries to put a salad bowl beneath it so that the cold water doesn’t start flooding his apartment. The makes a panicked noise when the bowl starts to spill over, frantically replacing it with another dish as droplets spill down his bare shoulders.

But it’s fine. Oikawa’s in control of the situation.

He’s standing in his kitchen holding an umbrella over his head, breath coming out in panicked rush, his mismatched alien-themed socks drenched as a puddle starts to spread along the kitchen tiles, but it’s alright. He’s handling it like the mature, capable adult that he is.

Okay fine, everything is horrible. Oikawa swallows his pride and calls Kuroo.

“I have,” Oikawa gulps, “a minor problem.”

“We’ll be right over.”

A few minutes later, Oikawa hears the knock he’d practiced with Bokuto.

Some of the weight lifts from his chest when he hears Bokuto yell, “Hey, hey, hey! Your cavalry’s here!”

“Door’s open!” Oikawa shouts from where he’s still huddled in his kitchen, clutching an umbrella in one hand while scrubbing the floors furiously with the mop he’s holding in the other.

Kuroo and Bokuto let themselves in, the two of them quickly joining Oikawa in the kitchen. They cock their heads to the side as they inspect the damage. Kuroo lets out a low whistle.

“Uh. Neither of us knows shit about plumbing,” Bokuto tells him, wincing.

Oikawa’s stomach sinks.

Kuroo props a hand against his own hip, eyes dropping from the ceiling to Oikawa. He shakes his head and tuts. “When you’re not setting off fire alarms, you’re flooding your own apartment. Impressive.”

A hysteric laugh escapes Oikawa, the sound coming out as an ugly sob as the water continues to spill from the leaking pipes. This is fine. Everything’s—

“Tooru, are you…crying?” Bokuto asks as he steers Oikawa away from the kitchen, prying the mop and umbrella from Oikawa’s cold hands.

“No,” Oikawa sniffs. He wipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

Bokuto shrugs off his sweater and hands to Oikawa. “You should change into something dry.”

Oikawa nods numbly and tugs on Bokuto’s varsity sweater. It’s warm like it’s just come out of the drier and it smells like citrus-scented detergent Bokuto and Kuroo use. Oikawa teeth clack together as a chill ripples through him.

“Rough day, huh?” Kuroo says. He holds his hands out, gesturing for Oikawa to come closer. “Bring it in, kiddo.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes, even as he leans forward and sags against Kuroo’s chest. He closes his eyes, body going limp as Kuroo’s arms envelop him. “M’older than you, asshat.”

“Whatever you say,” Kuroo replies. His smile’s soft as he soothes his hand down along Oikawa’s back. “Hey, if you need to, you can crash at our place for a few days until the repairs are finished.”

Oikawa blinks slowly. “Eh?” He must look even more pitiful than he thought. “Kuro-chan, are you inviting me over?”

“That was the idea,” Kuroo answers as he releases Oikawa. He looks over at Bokuto. “If that’s okay with you, Bo? If not—”

Bokuto grins at the both of them. “Hell yeah! This is gonna be awesome. It’ll be like a sleep over!”

After Bokuto and Kuroo leave him to collect his things, Oikawa calls someone about doing the repairs and then makes a call to Iwaizumi about his temporary change of address.

When Oikawa hears pointed silence on the other side of the line, Oikawa reassures Iwaizumi, “It’ll just be for a week, maybe.”

“You’re gonna be living with them?” Iwaizumi asks, sounding more concerned than necessary. “With the two neighbors you’ve been crushing on for the better half of the semester?”

What.

Oikawa’s eyes dart down the lobby, and he claps one hand over his phone as he checks to ensure none of his nosy neighbors are listening in. “Wha? I’m not—” His voice is squeaking with outrage at the accusation.

"You definitely are," Iwaizumi interrupts. "You've been talking about them for months."

"That doesn't mean—"

"Doesn’t it, really?" Iwaizumi cuts him off again, and Oikawa falls into an indignant silence.

Ridiculous. He does not have a crush on Bokuto and Kuroo. They’re just friends. Good friends. The fact that Bokuto’s bulging biceps and Kuroo’s shapely thighs have fueled more than one late night fantasy is purely incidental. Besides, Bokuto and Kuroo are dating and Oikawa hasn’t figured out the logistics—

“Oh my god,” Oikawa groans. He thuds his head against the wall, curses himself for not noticing it sooner. “I have a crush on my upstairs neighbors.”

“Is this all of it?” Bokuto asks as he carries Oikawa’s two suitcases up the stairs as if they weighed nothing.

Oikawa nods, only half listening as he’s distracted by the shift and stretch of Bokuto’s back muscles beneath his tank top. If he swoons quietly enough, maybe there’s a possibility that Bokuto won’t hear it. “I think so,” Oikawa answers when he remembers Bokuto probably couldn’t see him nod.

“It better be.” Kuroo tosses Oikawa a judgmental look over his shoulder. In comparison to Bokuto, Kuroo’s only carrying a small bag filled with Oikawa’s hair products. “Just to clarify, you said the repairs are gonna take a week, right? Not a month? Or a year?”

“Eh? No, this is what I need for the full week. How can you really expect me to know exactly what I’m gonna wear a week in advance. I have to have options. I can’t just wear ripped jeans and a t-shirt every day, like some people.”

Kuroo scoffs when they reach the top of the stairs and cross the hall to their apartment room. “You mean you own this many clothes and you still willingly wear those plaid capris?” He pulls a face as he turns the key in the knob.

“Oi! Those capris are fashionable, right Kou-chan?”

Bokuto winces and sets down the two suitcases on the floor. “Uh. Well, I mean, if anyone could pull them off, it’d be you!”

Kuroo guffaws at the indignant noise Oikawa makes, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he swerves out of Oikawa’s reach so that Oikawa can’t retaliate.

“Rude!”

Huffing, Oikawa takes his bag from Kuroo and brushes past him on the way to the washroom. Both Bokuto and Kuroo follow after him.

Kuroo leans against the doorframe and announces, “Now that you’re here, feel free to make yourself—”

His words come to an abrupt stop as he stares, his eyebrows drawing together while he watches Oikawa stack his personal shampoo, body wash, conditioner, body gel, moisturizer, and face cream along the shower rack. Lastly, Oikawa delicately hooks his own purple loofah around one of the hooks.

“—at home,” Kuroo finishes.

Bokuto reaches for the jar of mango-scented face cream and winds his fingers around the lid. When it comes off, he curiously dips his finger in the cream and sniffs deeply. “Hey, hey, hey!! This must be why you always smell so nice all the time!”

Oikawa squeaks and nearly drops the tube of toothpaste he’s holding.

“Why does one person need so many beauty products?” Kuroo demands, his eyes trailing across the now-crowded shower rack with increasing disapproval.

Relieved by the change of the topic, Oikawa turns to face Kuroo, his lips upturned in a smirk. “It’s called grooming, Kuro-chan” He drags his fingers through his own hair. “You should really try it sometime.”

Bokuto’s hands lift to his face, his cheeks puffing up in his excitement. “Then we’d all smell really nice.”

“I don’t need your shitty beauty products, Oikawa.”

Oikawa covers his mouth with a hand. “Pfft. I guess not, if the whole rooster look’s really your thing.” He stocks the rest of his stuff in their upper cupboard when he notices that some very essential things are missing from their bathroom. “Uh, why do you guys only have one toothbrush?”

“We share,” Bokuto answers proudly.

Oikawa gags. “Gross.” He points at them. “You’re both gross.”

“You like pineapple on your pizza, so which of us is really gross here?” Kuroo counters.

Oikawa levels them both with a look. “Definitely still you guys.” The only thing more horrifying than the shared toothbrush is the realization that somehow it’s done nothing to deter his ridiculous crush on the two of them.

After, when they’re finished brushing their teeth and getting dressed for bed, Bokuto and Kuroo join Oikawa in the living room where Oikawa’s curled up on the couch beneath the comforter he brought from his place.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay out here on the couch?” Kuroo asks, his voice laced with concern.

“Beats staying at a hotel,” Oikawa tells them as he fluffs his pillow and then tucks it behind his head.

Kuroo nods in understanding from where he’s sitting on the arm of the couch. “We’re just gonna be down the hall. If you need us for anything, just knock, kay?” Kuroo rises and pulls the comforter up beneath Oikawa’s chin.

Oh my god, he’s tucking me in, Oikawa thinks dizzily. “Kay.”

As Oikawa’s still struggling to process that, Bokuto crouches down from where he was standing and ruffles his hands in Oikawa’s hair. “G’night! Sleep tight,” Bokuto sings before heading off to bed.

Oikawa burrows his cheek against the side of his pillow as he watches them retreat. He hears the loud click of their door, and then their giggles echoing through the small apartment.

From the other side of the door, Oikawa can make out only fragments of their conversation.

“—Feh, that’s my side of the bed remember—”

“But yours is warmer!”

Kuroo grunts and there’s a noisy rustle of sheets. Quiet falls over the apartment for a record of maybe ten minutes before Bokuto punctures it, his voice coming out in panicked rush when he asks, “Hey, what if our food could scream? Would that be fucked up, or what?”

“Bo, what the hell.”

Oikawa chuckles softly and finally lets his eyes flutter closed as he pillows arms beneath his head. He nestles his face against the sleeve of the hoodie Bokuto lent him, and sighs softly, darkness edging on his consciousness as he lets the hushed murmur of their voices lull him to sleep.

~*~

The next morning when Oikawa tracks into their shared kitchen, he finds Bokuto inexplicably curled up on the kitchen table. Oikawa blinks once, twice, just to make sure he’s not imagining things but the peculiar scene in front of him doesn’t change.

The strangest part of it isn’t even that Bokuto’s sprawled out on his back; it’s that he’s covered from neck down in the socks Kuroo set out the night before while doing laundry. By all accounts, a grown man covered in a layer of socks shouldn’t be adorable, but Bokuto’s expression’s just so gentle and serene like he’s completely comfortable, the socks rising and falling with every deep heave of his chest.

Oikawa plucks a sock from Bokuto’s hair, his heart jumping when Bokuto’s pale lashes flutter in response. Damn it. It’s too early in the morning for Oikawa to be already contemplating yet again just how deeply screwed he is.

“S’cute, right?” Kuroo asks from behind Oikawa as he takes a picture with his phone and then another.

Oikawa nearly yelps at having been caught staring. With all the eloquence he can muster, he stammers out, “Wha? No—I mean I don’t—I wasn’t. Um.”

Kuroo smirks and nods towards Bokuto. “I was wonderin’ where he’d gotten off to.” He crosses his arms across his chest, his eyes falling shut as his lips slant into a lopsided smirk. “Once, I was up early working on my thesis and Bokuto strolled into the kitchen, kissed me on the cheek, stuffed down a mouthful of cereal from the box and then went back to sleep,” Kuroo confides. “Nothing I did or said could wake him.”

Oikawa looks between Bokuto and Kuroo in surprise. “Wait, so this is a common thing, then?” he asks. Oikawa crouches in front of Bokuto and waves his hand in front of him, watching closely for a reaction.

He’s not expected it when Bokuto encloses his hand around Oikawa’s wrist and tugs Oikawa’s arm forward. Oikawa stares, an embarrassing noise escaping him when Bokuto nuzzles his cheek against the heel of Oikawa’s palm.

“Oh my god.” Oikawa turns his gaze away, pink tinting the tips of his ears when he tries to wrench his arm free, but Bokuto just snuggles closer, burrowing his face against the crook of Oikawa’s elbow.

Kuroo snickers as he approaches them. “Sorry ‘bout that, he’s an affectionate sleeper, you know?” He leans down and presses a soft kiss to Bokuto’s forehead before patting him on the hip. “Hey, c’mon Bo, it’s time to wake up. I think Oikawa wants his hand back.”

Bokuto sniffs and tucks the arm beneath his chin, a soft, content smile curling his lips.

He can keep it, Oikawa thinks.

“Bo,” Kuroo tries again, this time loudly.

Bokuto stirs, some socks falling onto the floor as he shuffles onto his side. “Ehhh?” he murmurs as he blinks blearily at them.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead,” Kuroo says, grinning as he scratches his fingers along Bokuto’s scalp in a gesture that must be soothing, judging by the way Bokuto coos and how his eyes flutter shut again. Kuroo leans in close and folds his arms on the outer edge of the table. “S’our bed not comfy enough?”

“Our bed? What do you—” Bokuto opens his eyes, his neck craning as he his gaze slowly pans across the small kitchen. “Oh. So this isn’t…?”

“Nope.”

“And this isn’t my blanket, either.” Bokuto gazes around at the socks.

“Nope.”

“Which means I…?”

Kuroo nods, his brows lifting. “Yep.”

Yawning, Bokuto rises to his knees and adjusts his position so that his legs are swinging off the side of the table.

“Uh, Bo.” Kuroo snickers and clears his throat, his eyes pointedly dropping to where Bokuto’s hand’s still holding Oikawa’s wrist and then snapping back up to Bokuto’s face.

“What?” Bokuto unthinkingly drops Oikawa’s wrist and intertwines their fingers together. He waves their arms back and forth while Oikawa attempts to look cool and collected about the whole thing even as he’s losing his mind.

Bokuto’s hand feels large against his own, his fingertips rough and callused where they’re dipping between the folds of Oikawa’s knuckles and Oikawa can’t help wonder what those same hands would feel like clenching Oikawa’s waist as they kiss—

“Oh. Oh. Shit,” Bokuto blurts, finally releasing Oikawa’s hand. He chuckles nervously. “Sorry about that! When I’m sleeping, I can get kinda…”

“Affectionate. I heard. Kuro-chan told me,” Oikawa finishes, his voice coming out as a strangled squeak.

Bokuto’s face crumples.

“No, no! It’s totally fine, no harm done,” Oikawa reassures him. And then, because flirting is his go-to defense mechanism, “If you wanted to hold my hand, you could have just asked.”

The line’s meant to come out as teasing and casual but Oikawa’s still blushing and judging by the curious expressions on Kuroo’s and Bokuto’s faces, they probably both saw straight through it. Fuck.

“Would you look at the time? I think I’m gonna go out for my morning run. I’ll see you two later,” Oikawa announces, turning his back to them as he hastily crosses the kitchen to where the door is. He slips on his shoes.

“Oikawa…” Kuroo’s voice sounds vaguely disapproving and if they were in the same room, Oikawa would undoubtedly stick his tongue out at him in defiance.

“Did you want us to come with?” Bokuto asks

“No! I mean, thanks, I’m good. I’ll be back soon!” And with that, he’s out the door. It’s only when he’s made his way halfway down the long stairwell that it comes to his attention that he’s wearing neither pants nor socks.

Oikawa groans and thuds his head against the stairwell. If this is how every morning’s going to go, there’s no way he’s going to survive living with them for the whole week.

By the time Oikawa returns 20 minutes later or so after wandering around their apartment building aimlessly, Kuroo and Bokuto have both returned to their regular routines; Kuroo’s attention is focused on his term paper while Bokuto’s playing video games on the couch. Neither of them brings up the weirdness from before and Oikawa’s mostly relieved, except for the slightest gnawing feeling in his stomach that refuses to let him be.

~*~

It’s late afternoon and Oikawa’s helping Bokuto with his homework when Kuroo walks in from the kitchen holding their grocery list. “Hey Bo, what do we need two bags of marshmallows for?” He asks as he scratches at the back of his neck.

Bokuto shrugs, not looking up from his notebook. “Haven’t decided yet.”

“Fair enough,” Kuroo agrees. He turns his gaze to Oikawa. “And you,” He waves a finger at Oikawa, eyes narrowed as if he’s already preparing for Oikawa to argue with him, “if you’re going to live under our roof, you’re gonna make yourself useful.”

Oikawa tilts his head. “Did you want me to do another grocery run?”

Bokuto perks at this.

“No,” Kuroo answers, his lips pursing in a tight line. “Last time I sent you two to pick up groceries, you came back with cookie cutters, decorative sprinkles, Lucky Charm cereal and a bunch of other stuff that definitely wasn’t on the list. I’ve learned my lesson.” He shakes his head and chuckles.

“But babe,” Bokuto huffs, gestures with his hands for emphasis, “the potatoes had smiley faces! We had to get them!”

Oikawa grins.

“They were delicious, smiles and all,” Kuroo admits, “but they weren’t on the list.”

“So what do you need my help for, then?” Oikawa asks as he and Bokuto follow Kuroo back into the kitchen.

Bokuto hops onto the countertop, propping his owl-themed notebook in his lap as he looks between them.

“You’re helping me cook lunch.”

“Oh?” Oikawa glances over Kuroo’s shoulder to where Kuroo’s rinsing the rice. “But you’re going such a good job of it on your own.”

The corners of Kuroo’s lips twitch. He pointedly doesn’t answer as he sets out the mushrooms, garlic, onions, pancetta, and beef on the cutting board. “Here, you can start with chopping these into small chunks.” When Oikawa pulls a face, Kuroo sighs. “I’ll show you.”

Kuroo comes up behind Oikawa, his arms framing Oikawa’s. He grins when Oikawa jerks in surprise. “Relax, I’m just gonna do a demonstration.” Kuroo grabs a clean, large cutting knife from the counter and gestures for Oikawa to take it from him.

“And how come Kou-chan’s not cooking with us?” Oikawa asks, his voice uneven as he holds the knife in a limp grip. Warmth floods his cheeks at the feeling of Kuroo leaning over him. He swallows hard, tries to disguise the way his heart’s beating like crazy.

Bokuto looks over at them from where he’s working on his homework. “Apparently,” he uses finger quotes, “chefs aren’t supposed to sample the goods before the meal’s done.” Bokuto sighs in disappointment and snatches a handful of mushrooms from the cutting board.

Oikawa’s eyes crinkle in amusement.

“Oikawa, you’re holding it all wrong. It’s like this.” Kuroo’s hand suddenly encloses over Oikawa’s, slowly guiding Oikawa’s grasp. He nods, squeezes Oikawa’s fingers lightly before using the edge of the knife to brush the mushrooms closer. “Now try cutting,” he instructs, withdrawing his hands.

Oikawa inhales sharply, clumsily dices through the first few mushrooms.

“I—try this.” Kuroo folds his hand over Oikawa’s again. This time Kuroo applies pressure, pushing down on the heel of Oikawa’s hand as they easily slice through the mushrooms.

Oikawa turns his head to read Kuroo’s expression, realizes a moment too late that that’s a mistake. Like this, Oikawa’s painfully aware of how close they’re standing, Kuroo’s breath caressing Oikawa’s neck, his lips in dangerous proximity.

“There, now you give it a try.” Kuroo smiles in encouragement.

Beside them, Bokuto holds up his notebook and boasts, “Finished my questions!” His face is bright with excitement as he waits for one of them to reward him.

Kuroo pulls away from Oikawa, his hand hovering briefly the small of Oikawa’s back and then dropping back to his side again before he walks over to Bokuto. “Ah, lemme look over them.” His eyes scan over the page. “Looks good to me, but you should ease off on the mushrooms for now until we’re finishing cooking or there’s not gonna be any left to eat.”

Bokuto’s lower lip trembles as he pouts. “But if not that, then what?”

“Here, how’s this as a reward.” Kuroo dips his head down to kiss the corner of Bokuto’s mouth, and then his cheek, his neck, and then the underside of his jaw. Bokuto’s grin broadens with each kiss. “Satisfied?”

“Nuh uh, that was four kisses, I counted. You owe me five.” Bokuto’s eyes squeeze shut, his fingers curling against the underside of the countertop as he leans forward and puckers his lips.

Kuroo rolls his eyes but indulges his boyfriend anyway. He brushes his thumb behind the shell of Bokuto’s ear and then kisses him, Bokuto’s hum of delight muffled by Kuroo’s lips.

The scene anchors Oikawa back in reality.

They’re dating each other, not you, he reminds himself with a sobering shake of his head, his stomach twisting again. Together, they’re soft and playful and warm and he can’t help but want to be part of that, in some way. They’re two of his favorite people, but watching them like that makes his chest pang with want. Swallowing back against the knot forming in his throat, Oikawa refocuses his effort on the cutting board.

He keeps his grip in place, recalls Kuroo’s guiding hands, Kuroo’s instructions still fresh in Oikawa’s mind when he grinds the heel of his palm down against the knife. His mouth drops in surprise when the knife slices the mushrooms into cleanly-cut slivers. “Oh.”

Kuroo’s suddenly at Oikawa’s side again, one hand clapping Oikawa on the shoulder when he inspects the mushrooms. “Well I’ll be,” he drawls, sounding eerily like a grandpa rather than a 20-year-old as he clutches his hand to his chest. “You’ve got much to learn, young grasshopper, but there may still be hope for you yet.” He sniffs proudly.

For a moment, Oikawa preens at the words, and then a suddenly feeling of suspicion creeps up on him. “Wait a minute,” Oikawa says slowly, “this was all just an elaborate trick to get me to prepare my own meals, wasn’t it?”

“Foiled,” Kuroo gasps. “Now c’mon and help me put the rice on so we can get lunch done before Bo finishes off the mushrooms.”

~*~

It’s almost unnerving, really, how easily they settle into a steady routine together. All three have early classes and Bokuto’s alarm clock’s boisterous hooting wakes them all up without fail.

Mornings are hectic, with the three of them sharing the washroom. They stand shoulder to shoulder, their hips and elbows knocking more than once, their heads colliding when Bokuto and Oikawa duck down at the same time to spit their toothpaste into the sink. On this particular morning, Kuroo relents on his firm stance against hair products and sheepishly asks Oikawa to style his hair.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I hear you,” Oikawa teases.

Kuroo’s stare is withering as he reluctantly sets down the hairdryer he’d been using on Bokuto a moment ago. He sighs and grumbles, “I asked if maybe you could, ya know.” Kuroo gestures vaguely to Oikawa’s hair and then his own. “You know what, forget I asked. It was stupid.”

Oikawa’s eyes gleam.

Oh, this is gonna be fun.

“No, no, I’ll do it!” Oikawa leaps up onto the sink counter and rubs his hands together. “C’mere.” He pats the gap between his legs and murmurs in approval when Kuroo obliges him.

Oikawa spreads his palms and, in a well-practiced imitation of the medical procedure dramas he’s binge-watched, he commands, “Kou-chan, my hairspray and hair gel, please.”

Bokuto immediately presses the hairspray bottle into one of Oikawa’s hands and the tub of hair gel into the other. After, he dutifully holds up the mirror in front of them as he watches in fascination.

Steeling himself with a quick exhale, Oikawa slicks his fingers in the gel and then rakes his hands through the bird’s nest that’s Kuroo’s hair. Kuroo’s hair is soft to the touch and the sudden sharp uptick of Kuroo’s breathing’s distracting enough that Oikawa nearly forgets his mission. He strokes his fingers through the tuff again, stops when he hears Kuroo make a low, rumbly noise of appreciation from the back of his throat.

“Oh my god, Are you—are you purring?” Oikawa asks Kuroo, a delirious laugh escaping him when Kuroo does it again.

In the mirror, Oikawa can see Kuroo turning red. “M’not purring—” Kuroo protests. He tries twisting around to argue.

“Sit still,” Oikawa chastises, his hand dropping to the nape of Kuroo’s neck when he gives Kuroo’s hair one last spray of product to keep it in place.

It takes a combination of hairspray, gel and mousse before Kuroo’s hair finally turns pliant and malleable beneath Oikawa’s skilled hands. Humming under his breath, Oikawa holds the comb between his teeth and swoops Kuroo’s hair to the right.

“All done!” Oikawa announces.

By the time he’s done and he’s skimmed the comb through the tangles, Kuroo looks—

“Babe, you look hot,” Bokuto says and at Kuroo’s blank stare he coughs and amends, “Even hotter than usual, I mean.”

Kuroo cocks his head at his own reflection, his eyes wide in disbelief as he reaches a hand up to touch his hair.

“Don’t you dare,” Oikawa hisses and catches Kuroo’s wrist.

Kuroo turns around and faces Oikawa. He leans in and braces his free hand on Oikawa’s thigh and asks in a low voice, “Ah, and what do you think, Oikawa? Does it look good?”

“I,” Oikawa flutters his lashes, a blush crawling across his cheeks, again. Fuck. He drops Kuroo’s wrist as if he’s been burnt. “I think…” I’ve made a mistake. “I think anything would be an improvement over how it was before.”

At that, Kuroo’s lips flit into a roguish grin. “Suppose you’re right.”

Oikawa’s heart’s still leaping in his throat when Bokuto sets the mirror down and clamors, “Hey, hey, hey, do me next! Do me next!”

“Sure, why not.” Oikawa can still feel the weight of Kuroo’s gaze on his face as he signals Bokuto forward. “I can try working my magic a second time. At least yours won’t take a miracle to fix.”

“Oi.”

Each morning, breakfasts with them is an Event, with the three of them rushing around together, ducking into bathrooms and bedrooms and cupboards, each one scrambling to get ready on time.

“I’ve got the keys today, right?”

“Yep, Oikawa and I are gonna take the train.” Bokuto launches the keys across the living room and into the kitchen. Kuroo fumbles with, only narrowing capturing the keys between the heels of his palms. “Don’t mind!”

Kuroo smiles in thanks and points to the fridge. “In case I’m out late studying again, I left a menu for takeout on the fridge and specific instructions on how not to flood or burn down the apartment.”

“Your concern’s touching, Kuro-chan, truly,” Oikawa retorts. He smiles sarcastically and adjusts the strap of his messenger bag.

“One last thing, coffee.” Kuroo sets the keys down on the counter and plucks one of the steaming cups from the coffee cup holder. He waits until Bokuto and Oikawa are standing across from him to gingerly hand the cup to Bokuto. “Picked these up from the place down the street while you guys were sleeping.” His hands now free, Kuroo adjusts Bokuto’s collar and then presses a chaste kiss to Bokuto’s cheek, and then the other.

“Oh? Do I get one too?” Oikawa coos. It’s only when Bokuto and Kuroo turn sharply, a multitude of complicated expressions playing across their faces that Oikawa realizes how that sounded. As he waits for the void to mercifully end his embarrassing existence he clarifies with a wince, “Coffee. Is there a coffee for me?”

“Oh. Shit, yeah.” Kuroo pulls away sluggishly and slides the coffee tray towards Oikawa. “Did you really think I’d forget the honorary household member? The one on the left’s yours.” He looks down at his watch. “Damn, I’m gonna be late.” He kisses Bokuto again, this time on the lips and rushes from the room. “Have a good at school and practice, yeah? Love you!”

“You too!” Oikawa and Bokuto yell as they hear the click of the door shutting behind Kuroo.

After each full day of classes and volleyball training, Bokuto and Oikawa take the train home together. As they wait for their stop, they usually share Bokuto’s headphones or play games to pass the time.

Bokuto tends to leave little room for silence, but today he’s been quieter, maybe even pensive. He’s sagged against Oikawa’s shoulder and he has to tilt his head up to meet Oikawa’s gaze. “It’s cool, you living with us,” Bokuto confides. “I mean you’re over all the time anyway but this has been…different. Nice. Kinda like we’re roommates for real.”

Oikawa pulls the headphone bud from his own ear and blinks rapidly in surprise. “Oh.” A pleasant warmth spreads through him as he turns to the window and looks out at the sky, where vibrant streaks of tangerine, cotton candy pinks and baby blues are painted across the evening horizon. “Yeah it has been, huh?”

A few days ago when he’d moved in, Oikawa thought he’d miss having his own space, but now that the week’s coming to an end, the thought of moving his stuff back makes his chest pang. “Don’t tell Kuro-chan, but I think I’m gonna really—” Oikawa’s words are cut short by the loud, rumbly snarl of Bokuto’s snores. “Miss it.”

This time Oikawa’s not caught off guard when Bokuto buries his face against the crook of Oikawa’s neck. With a sigh, Oikawa lifts his arm around Bokuto’s shoulder and soothes his thumb in circles between the blades of Bokuto’s shoulders. It’s not long before Oikawa can feel his own eyes drooping from exhaustion. He lets them fall shut and leans his head against Bokuto’s, a gentle smile curling Oikawa’s lips at the solid weight of Bokuto pressed against his side.

~*~

On Sunday, late in the afternoon, Oikawa finally gets the call about his pipes being fixed.

Just before it happens, the three of them are in the kitchen washing dishes, Bokuto’s music filling the small apartment as they dance around each other.

“Hey Oikawa, I think you have something, right there.” Kuroo adjusts his rubber gloves and points to Oikawa’s hair.

Without thinking, Oikawa touches a hand to the top of his head. He frowns when he finds nothing amiss. “Eh? Where? I don’t feel anything—”

“Right there.”

Was Kuroo always standing this close?

Slowly, Kuroo grabs a fistful of suds from the sink. By now, Oikawa should have sensed oncoming Shenanigans, but he’s too distracted by Kuroo’s stupid, loopy smile to pull away in time when Kuroo reaches up and smears the wet suds along the side of Oikawa’s face. Oikawa’s shirt’s already drenched from the sink water but now his hair’s dripping and he can hear the quiet crackle of bubbles popping along the shell of his ear but he can’t even find it in him to be mad because Kuroo’s howling like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen.

“Think that’s funny, do you?”

“A lil’ bit,” Kuroo says as tears track down his face.

Oikawa rolls his eyes. “How ‘bout this?” He takes the large dish towel in his hands and wrings it above Kuroo’s head, his hand fasting around Kuroo’s forearm when Kuroo tries to escape.

Bokuto tuts at both of them. “Hey now, let’s get all just play nice.” Oikawa’s about to apologize but suddenly thinks better of it when he sees the mischievous glint in Bokuto’s gold eyes. Giving neither of them time to react, Bokuto swiftly gathers a giant mass of bubbles in both hands and presses one to Oikawa’s face and then other to Kuroo’s.

What follows is chaos; Kuroo splashing them both, Bokuto bringing out water guns from their closet, Oikawa temporarily seeing refuge in the washroom as the stacked dishes lay forgotten in the sink. It’s only when Oikawa’s phone starts to buzz that the three of them cease fire.

“Time out, time out,” Oikawa wheezes in between giggles, “my phone’s ringing.”

“Aw c’mon, just ignore it,” Bokuto whines. “Let it go to voicemail.” He reaches for Oikawa’s hand to twirl him, and then spins him back in again so that Oikawa falls back against Bokuto’s chest. Oikawa stumbles back, his heart pounding when Bokuto’s broad arms fold around Oikawa’s waist. Like this, Bokuto’s plastered against Oikawa’s back and Oikawa can feel the firmness of Bokuto’s abs through the wet fabric of the other boy’s tank top.

Wow, I’m gay, Oikawa observes.

Oikawa’s knees are already starting to sway when Kuroo leans in to close the narrow space between them. His breath warm against Oikawa’s ear, Kuroo lowers his voice and murmurs, “Yeah, Tooru, ignore it.”

As Kuroo’s face inches loser, Oikawa’s caught off guard by how pretty Kuroo looks this close, Kuroo’s eyes molten brown and the fan of his eyelashes even longer than Oikawa’s own. Oikawa’s eyes drop down to Kuroo’s mouth, only this is somehow worse, because now Oikawa’s thinking about the velvet plush of Kuroo’s lips might feel like pressed against his own.

“I suppose it could wait,” Oikawa agrees faintly.

Oikawa’s fairly sure he’s not breathing anymore when he feels Bokuto’s lips poised just above the nape of his neck.

He’s hyperaware of Bokuto’s arms caging him in, of Kuroo’s searching gaze, but neither of them are doing anything. Finally, Kuroo nods, the gesture so small Oikawa may have imagined it, and then he tilts his head down and strokes his finger along the underside of Oikawa’s chin where he can no doubt feel the rapid throb of Oikawa’s pulse beneath the pad of his thumb.

Oh my god, this is happening, Oikawa thinks, practically dizzy with the realization that they’re about to maybe—kiss?

At least that’s what Oikawa assumes is about to happen, but he doesn’t get to confirm it because it’s then that his phone starts ringing again on the other side of the room, the call swiftly and effectively putting an end any sort of action Oikawa was possibly about to receive.

Kuroo’s the first to pull away. The tips of ears are tinged red in what Oikawa thinks might be embarrassment as Bokuto reluctantly withdraws his arms from where they’d been wrapped around Oikawa’s waist. Oikawa only barely manages to restrain a groan at the loss of warmth.

“You should probably get that,” Kuroo says as he clears his throat.

Oikawa doesn’t want to.

The moment’s already passed, Oikawa can tell as much when Kuroo turns his back and resumes washing the dishes but Oikawa stays firmly rooted in place like a child who’s just had their favorite thing snatched away from them. “But I—can’t we—?”

Oikawa’s not altogether certain he hasn’t just been imagining the tension between the three of them over the past few days, but he needs to know. “Kuro-chan, Kou-chan—” His words are cut off again when the phone rings, its chime growing louder and more obnoxious with each passing second.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming, sheesh!” Oikawa sighs and bounds across the room. When he answers the phone, he greets the caller on the other end with a cheery, “Hey, it’s Oikawa Tooru. What can I help you with?”

It’s the plumber. Oikawa recognizes the other man’s voice immediately. He listens and makes quiet hums of affirmation as the plumber fills him in on the progress.

Good news? The pipes are fixed and Oikawa gets to home.

Bad news? The pipes are fixed and Oikawa has to go home.

Kuroo and Bokuto hover nearby on either side of Oikawa, neither of them making any sort of effort to hide the fact they’re eavesdropping.

“Thank you for your service, have a good day,” Oikawa says and hangs up. When his graze lifts from the phone, he finds them both watching him expectantly. “So it turns out they’re finished the repairs and I can move my stuff back into my apartment as early as today.”

Bokuto’s shoulders slump. “Shit, already?”

Oikawa nods.

Kuroo looks surprised for a moment before he reigns in his expression, his lips tilting slightly in a reassuring smile as he claps Oikawa on the shoulder. “Oh. I mean. That’s a good thing, right?”

“Right, I can finally sleep in my bed again,” Oikawa says with halfhearted enthusiasm. What he wants, more than anything is for them to ask him to stay but they don’t, and Oikawa never expected them to but he still feels an irrational pang of disappointment when neither of them tries dissuading him from leaving.

“Hey.” Kuroo clamps a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder and squeezes. “You know you’re always welcome here, right?”

It’s the polite thing to say, and Oikawa appreciates the gesture even if that’s probably all it is.

I don’t want things to go back to the way they were.

With a forced smile, Oikawa replies, “Of course! So which of you is going to help me pack my things?”

~*~

It’s been nearly two weeks now and Oikawa’s hardly seen Bokuto or Kuroo. Sure, he still has volleyball practices with Bokuto but he hasn’t invited himself over for food or movie marathon since moving out. After experiencing Kuroo’s heavenly cooking for so long, going back to microwavables feels like some kind of divine punishment.

Oikawa pouts as he peels off the lid and dips his chopsticks into the soup’s soggy broth. He knows if Kuroo was here to see it, he’d mock Oikawa for being so overdramatic but he’s not so Oikawa sags back in his computer chair and lets himself spin around until he’s dizzy.

The worst part of all of this, maybe, is that the exile’s Oikawa’s doing. He could go upstairs and plaster on a smile like everything’s fine, like he hasn’t reached the embarrassing point of codependence, but he doesn’t have the energy for it.

The alternative option really isn’t so appealing either, though.

Living alone, Oikawa’s found, absolutely sucks.

He misses being close enough that Bokuto can nudge Oikawa on the shoulder and show him cute owl videos on his phone, roaring with laughter even before the clip started. Oikawa misses the casual touches, misses Kuroo ruffling his hair or Bokuto playfully bumping their hips. And even though they’re still neighbors, Oikawa desperately misses the comfort of knowing Kuroo and Bokuto are just down the hall (instead of up the stairs) if Oikawa ever needs anything.

With a frown, Oikawa dials Iwaizumi’s number. “Iwa-chan, what am I gonna do?” Oikawa bites at the inner side of his cheek as he sets down his soup. “Iwa-chan?”

“Eh? About what? Your looks? S’a bit of a lost cause at this point, don’t you think?”

Oikawa makes a face even though he knows Iwaizumi can’t see it. “No, you jerk, about Kuroo and Bokuto.”

“Ah. You’re still moping over them then, huh?”

Oikawa makes an affronted noise and protests, “I’m not—I’m not moping! I don’t mope.” He glances down at himself and winces when he remembers that he’s currently wearing the hoodie Bokuto lent him over a week ago. The exaggerated scoff Iwaizumi gives him is probably well deserved. “Okay fine, maybe I am, a little.” I just…

Is it possible to be homesick for a home that’s not even yours? To be homesick over a person? Two, to be exact

“I’m so into both of them and it was starting to seem like maybe they liked me back but they never made a move and I’m starting to think it was all just kinda. Wishful thinking on my part.”

“Have you considered asking them yourself, Shittykawa?”

Oikawa jolts so hard at the suggestion that he drops the packet of hot sauce’s he’d been holding onto his lap, the sauce smearing on the borrowed hoodie. “Shit, shit, shit,” Oikawa hisses as he dabs his napkin at the spill. And then to Iwaizumi, “Iwa-chan, have you gone mad? Why would you suggest such a thing?”

Iwaizumi snorts. “C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“They could hear me, for one!” Oikawa scowls down at the hoodie. Bokuto’s scent hardly lingers on it anymore, long since overcome by the odors of sweat and takeout food, but Oikawa’s been making excuses not to throw it in the wash anyway. “And I just…I don’t want mess things up between the three of us.”

“So you’re isolating yourself instead?”

“That’s not—” Oikawa groans. “M’trying to sort things out. I need some time to think. You’d be freaking out too, if you had a crush on two of your best friends. Do you have any idea what it was like living with them for a whole week?”

“Pure torture, I’m sure.”

“Bokuto never wears sleeves! I’m pretty sure he has a personal vendetta against them.” Oikawa doesn’t mention then he’s currently wearing the one shirt of Bokuto’s that does have sleeves. “It probably won’t even be missed. “And then there’s Kuroo. He makes the bedhead look sexy, which shouldn’t be a thing... but it’s Kuroo, so of course it’s a thing. They’re both so perfect - I mean, they’re messes, but in the goofy, endearing kind of way that makes me feel all jittery inside.”

“That’s gross,” Iwaizumi grunts.

“Yeah,” Oikawa agrees breathlessly.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says slowly, in the way that always means he’s trying to sound patient. Oikawa can almost picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. “You asked for my advice, right? I think you should go for it. Whatever happens, happens. You should at least try putting yourself out there.”

Oikawa hums as he spins around in his chair again. “Oh? Those are big words coming from someone who took over a month to ask for Akaashi’s number.”

“Asshole! That’s not the same thing,” Iwaizumi argues without any heat. “You’ve had a thing for them since you moved in. If you don’t say something you’re gonna still going to be pining over them when you’re roommates in an old folks’ home.”

“Harsh.” Oikawa tsks. But maybe the brute has a point, he thinks as he strokes his thumb across his jaw. “I’ll… consider it. Thanks, Iwa-chan. How are you and Akaashi these days, by the way?”

Iwaizumi starts to say something, but Oikawa doesn’t get to hear his answer, because it’s then that he hears the deafening blare of the apartment building’s fire alarm. He jolts, then curses as he spills even more sauce on Bokuto’s hoodie. “Shit! I’ve gotta go, I’ll call you back.”

Oikawa hangs up, tosses his phone in his oversized pocket and bolts for the door and slams it shut behind him. His ears are ringing when he barrels down the stairs, past the other tenants who are all scurrying from the building. He doesn’t stop running until he’s passed the exit, until he’s standing outside on the lawn with everyone else, his breath coming out in ragged huffs as he awaits instruction. His heart lurches in his throat when he spots a thick cloud of smoke billowing out of one of the window of the apartment windows.

It’s coming from the same floor that Bokuto and Kuroo live on.

Oh god.

What if--?

With numb fingers, Oikawa punches in Kuroo’s number.

C’mon pick up, pick up, pick up.

Above him, the clouds swell and churn, cold rain starting to trickle from the ash-grey sky.

The call goes to voicemail.

Where the hell are they?

Oikawa’s eyes frantically scan the crowd around him, his chest constricting tighter and tighter when he doesn’t see them among the other tenants. With trembling hands, Oikawa dials Bokuto’s number.

It rings once, twice. Oikawa braces his hands on his knees, tries to steel himself at the sudden violent wave of nausea that floods over him. Everything’s red, red, red as firefighters storm into the building, the bright flare of their truck’s sirens blinding him.

He hardly registers amidst the chaos when someone taps a finger against Oikawa’s shoulder.

“Oikawa?” The familiar voice punctures through Oikawa’s panic.

Kuroo.

“Oh thank fuck, we thought maybe you were still in the building,” Kuroo says in relief, his lips twisting in a wry smile.

“Kou-chan? Kuro-chan?” Oikawa gasps.

“Ah, causing actual fires now, are we?” Kuroo asks teasingly as Bokuto pulls Oikawa into a crushing hug.

Oikawa blinks back the tears in his eyes as he scowls at Kuroo. He sniffs wetly and rubs his chin against Bokuto’s collar. “S’not funny. I thought you guys—I thought you were…” A sob’s wretched from his throat as he shudders and curls his fists in the damp fabric of Bokuto’s tank top.

Kuroo winces. He looks appropriately ashamed as he soothes, “Shit, you’re right, it wasn’t. I’m sorry.” Fingers stroking along the nape of Oikawa’s neck, Kuroo murmurs, “Hey, we’re fine. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

Bokuto smiles and bows their foreheads together. “We’re right here, kay?”

“Kay,” Oikawa croaks. His heart hasn’t stopped throbbing, not since he first heard the alarm go off but there’s something about being around them both that puts him at ease, like everything’s shifting back into place. Although the shoulders of his borrowed hoodie are soaked through from the icy rain, he’s warm where his front’s plastered against Bokuto’s.

With a quiet sigh, Oikawa relaxes into Bokuto’s arms. The tension slowly uncoils from his muscles when he feels Kuroo reach out and squeeze Oikawa’s hand. They stay like this, the three of them huddled together Bokuto’s arms wrapped around Oikawa’s waist, Oikawa’s hand clenching Kuroo’s until finally a firefighter emerges from the building barring an update on the incident.

~*~

“So it was just a microwavable dinner gone wrong, huh? Looks like you’re not the only disaster in the building.”

“It could happen to anyone,” Oikawa argues, his teeth chattering from the cold as he gets in line behind the other tenants.

Kuroo arches a brow at him. “Sure, if by anyone, you mean you.”

Bokuto stops walking, nearly collides with the people behind him when he takes both of Oikawa’s hands in his and rubs their fingers together. “Eh, Oikawa, you’re still cold?”

“C-c-course I am,” Oikawa stammers. He sneezes and apologizes when someone turns and glares. “How you are not c-c-cold wearing only a tank top and shorts? It’s freezing.”

Bokuto shrugs. “Hot blooded, y’know?” Oikawa can see an idea forming in Bokuto’s head as Bokuto’s face brightens, his voice eager as he suggest, “Hey, why don’t you come back to our place? We can get you warmed up again.”

Oikawa’s face burns at the implication, which at least means his blood’s circulating again. “Um.” There’s no way to ignore the double meaning in that. He casts a questioning look at Kuroo as the three of them begin ascending the stairs together.

Oikawa hesitates. “Kuro-chan?”

“I told you you’re welcome anytime, didn’t I?”

He nods and follows them up the stairs, lets them lead him into their apartment, past the kitchen, to the doorway of their bedroom. Oikawa pulls to a sharp stop. Even when he lived with them for a week, he’d never stepped foot inside. There’s a really tangible intimacy to this room and not for the first time, Oikawa worries he’s encroaching.

Bokuto cocks his head to the side when he realizes Oikawa’s still standing outside. “Aren’t you coming in?”

“We should get you out of those clothes before you catch hypothermia,” Kuroo adds.

Oikawa laughs nervously and shifts in place in front of the open door. “Oh? Kuro-sab, I didn’t realize you were in such a hurry to get me undressed.”

Kuroo smirks and circles his fingers around Oikawa’s wrist before tugging him into the room. “Just put your stuff in the corner.”

Whatever protest Oikawa had prepared is lost as Kuroo and Bokuto both start casually shedding their clothes until both have stripped down to their boxers and in Bokuto’s case, his sports bra. With a shaky nod and what he hopes was a quiet squeak, Oikawa plucks at the soggy fabric of his shorts and pushes them down until the shorts are pooling around his ankles.

“Here, lemme help you,” Kuroo says. He skirts his fingers along the hem of Oikawa’s hoodie, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips when he recognizes it. “Is that Bo’s hoodie? You still have it?”

Shit.

Bokuto braces his hands on Kuroo’s shoulders and cranes his neck to get a better look at the hoodie in question as Oikawa silently prays for a hole to open up in the floor beneath him.

“Maybe? I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

Bokuto squints. “It’s definitely mine.” He looks up at Oikawa, his eyebrows pulling together in question.

Well this is humiliating. “I just.” Oikawa takes a deep breath and turns his head away from them. “I liked the way it smelt, at first. S’comforting and I like how it fits a bit loosely. You know what, forget it, I’m just going to go.”

“Hey, hey, hey, not so fast.” Bokuto and Kuroo both grab an arm and pull Oikawa towards them.

“We just got you back,” Kuroo says and it would sound teasing to anyone who didn’t know Kuroo better than that.

Oikawa’s hands curl into fists, guilt gnawing at him as his eyes drop to the floor.

“Y’know if you wanted to borrow my things, you could’ve said.” Bokuto says with a laugh. He waggles his brows and continues, “No offense, but you’re kinda starting to reek. I’ll give ya a new one instead, yeah?”

There’s no way it could be that easy.

There’s no way any of this could be that easy but maybe—

“That’d be good,” Oikawa says, trying to keep his tone casual.

“Up,” Kuroo instructs as he gestures to Oikawa’s arms.

He obliges Kuroo. Oikawa raises his arms and lets Kuroo pull the hoodie up past his waist and then over his head, Kuroo’s gaze slowly roving down over Oikawa’s exposed chest as he lets the shirt fall limply from his hands.

“You’re still cold right?” Bokuto sits down on the bed and pats the place next to him. “C’mon let’s get you warm again.”

Oikawa’s unsure what it is they’re offering at this point as he climbs onto the bed after Kuroo, just that he’s half starved for anything they’re willing to give. The three of them converge in the middle, with Bokuto lying on one side of Oikawa and Kuroo on the other.

Bokuto wastes no time before curling himself against Oikawa’s back, draping one of his legs across Oikawa’s hip as he snuggles in close and nuzzles his face against the crook of Oikawa’s neck. True to his word, Oikawa can feel the waves of warmth radiating off the other boy. He lets his eyes fall shut as he arches back into the touch.

Kuroo smooths his fingertips along the lines of Oikawa’s palm before he weaves their fingers together and murmurs, “Missed you.”

“It’s only been two weeks,” Oikawa says, his pulse stammering as he opens his eyes again and lifts his chin to meet Kuroo’s steady gaze. A heavy beat of a second later, Oikawa admits, “I missed you guys, too.”

There’s probably never going to be an opportunity as good as this to tell them how he feels. Even if they reject him, it’s not like they’d kick Oikawa out of bed when they’re worried he’ll catch a cold, right?

He’s going to do this.

He’s going to tell them how he feels, that he’s constantly thinking about the two of them, that he’s liked them the beginning, that—

“We should date,” Bokuto blurts.

“I—what? Huh?” Oikawa demands with the usual amount of eloquence he can muster when they’re around.

“Like, you know, the three of us,” Bokuto explains as he tucks his chin against Oikawa’s shoulder. “I mean Tetsu and I are already dating but you should date us, too! We could go on cute dates n’stuff and you could sleep in our bed with us every night, like this. If you wanna.”

At first, Oikawa’s not sure if he’s misheard but then Kuroo leans in, his gaze searching as he watches for Oikawa’s reaction.

“Oikawa?”

“You ruined it,” Oikawa whispers in dismay. It’s maybe a little stupid or petty to be caught up in the details of it, but he’s just spent the last half hour or so talking himself up to confessing only to have the big declaration stolen from him.

Bokuto and Kuroo exchange a look of confusion.

“Okay, you lost us,” Kuroo says. “To be honest, this wasn’t exactly the reaction we were expecting.”

“I was gonna confess!” Oikawa snaps, sounding more than a little indignant as he folds his arms across his chest. “I was gonna tell you both how I felt and once you’d recovered from the surprise, I was gonna ask you if you wanted to date.”

“Yeah?” Bokuto’s eyes are bright with amusement.

“Yeah,” Oikawa huffs. “It was gonna be earnest and heartfelt.”

Kuroo smirks and raises his hand to his own chest. “I’m touched, just hearing about it.”

“Shut up, I just. I need a moment,” Oikawa grumbles under his breath.

“Pretend I didn’t ask, then,” Bokuto suggests.

Oikawa tilts his head. “Eh?”

“Pretend I didn’t confess.” Bokuto makes a whirling noise, his hands making weird gestures that apparently indicate rewinding time and it honestly might be the cutest thing Oikawa’s ever seen. “There! It never happened. You can ask now!” He nods in encouragement.

Kuroo looks at Bokuto with open adoration and Oikawa’s heart aches in sympathy.

It feels silly now, after voicing his disappointment over something so small, but he doesn’t want to let his do-over go to waste. “Kuro-chan,” Oikawa holds Kuroo’s gaze for a moment and then looks at Bokuto. “Kou-chan….I like you. Both of you.”

Bokuto and Kuroo do their best impressions of looking shocked.

“It’s Bo’s bubble butt, isn’t it? That’s what first caught your attention.” Kuroo makes a noise of understanding and Oikawa swats at his shoulder.

“Oi, shut it! I’m trying to be serious, here!” Oikawa hisses, hardly suppressing his giggles.

Kuroo winks and mimes zipping his lips.

With a warning glare, Oikawa continues, “and! And I think we should date.”

“We’ll have to think about,” Kuroo says. “This is all just so sudden.”

“Are you purposely trying to make this difficult?” Oikawa pouts.

Bokuto chuckles and nuzzles his nose against Oikawa’s chin. “M’sorry, Tetsu can’t resist. You’re just too cute when you get all riled up and huffy.”

“I’m not cute!” Oikawa protests, blushing at the incredulous looks that both of them give him. “Okay, I’m pretty cute, but that’s not the point. Neither of you answered.”

Kuroo rubs his thumbs against his temple and, in a perfect impression of a talent competition hosts, he announces, “It’s a yes from me.”

Bokuto snorts. “It’s a yes from me, too.”

“You’re both ridiculous,” Oikawa complains without any heat. His boyfriends are both giant dorks and Oikawa couldn’t be more pleased with his life choices.

Grinning, Oikawa loops his arms around Kuroo’s neck and reels him in for a heated, lingering kiss. As their lips slide together, Oikawa notes that Kuroo’s are expectantly soft against his own not chapped, like he thought they’d be. It’s not what he’d pictured, but it’s infinitely better because this is the real thing. A sudden full-bodied shiver jolting through him when Kuroo twines his fingers in Oikawa’s hair.

“Oh.” Oikawa inhales deeply when they break apart, his lips still tingling from where their mouths touched.

When he’s finally caught his breath again, he cups his palm against Kuroo’s cheek and kisses him again, feels the last of his chills ebb, every touch thawing him, replacing the cold with searing heat. Oikawa moans into Kuroo’s mouth when he feels Bokuto’s lips trailing a path along the column of his neck as he strokes his thumb across the jut of Oikawa’s hip.

Oikawa pulls a face when a thought occurs to him. “Wait, how long have you two liked me?”

Bokuto traces his callused fingers along the dip of Oikawa’s spine and hums. “Since the first day, when you accidentally locked yourself out of your apartment. You were wearing that cute NASA sweater.”

“We both said dibs under our breath at the same time,” Kuroo says.

“Oh my god,” Oikawa groans and buries his face in his hands. “We could have been doing this forever ago.”

“Probably.” Kuroo grins. He ducks down and nudges their noses together as he says, “But we’re together now, right? S’all that matters.”

Oikawa gasps in delight and bumps his nose back against Kuroo’s. “Sappy.”

“Too much?” Kuroo asks.

“No, no, I like it. I like you,” Oikawa says. “I like you both.” He tilts his head back and kisses Bokuto this time. It’s heady and a little clumsy, both of them giggling when they bump heads, but it’s everything Oikawa hoped for. God, maybe he’s the biggest sap of them all. “I don’t wanna get up,” he slurs.

“Then don’t,” Bokuto yawns and nestles closer.

So he doesn’t.

Oikawa stays like that, lying between them on their queen sized bed, their legs entwined, the three of them exchanging messy but soft kisses until Oikawa falls asleep listening to the rumble of thunder, the light drizzle of rain against the window and the steady thud of Kuroo’s heart against his ear.

~*~

“You know what this place needs? A plant,” Oikawa declares.

“A plant,” Kuroo repeats incredulously, his lips quirking as he gives Oikawa a look. “And why’s that?”

Kuroo’s disheveled hair looks inviting caught in the golden halo of light flooding in through the blinds. Humming softly, escaping Oikawa lifts his hand and drags his fingers through Kuroo’s hair before answering, “Y’know, to make this place more homey.” He grins and brushes his knuckles along the line of Kuroo’s jaw.

The corners of Kuroo’s eyes crinkle as he barks out a laugh. “Bo would kill it.”

Bokuto looks up from where he’d been trailing kisses along Oikawa’s shoulder and pouts. “I wouldn’t!”

“I’d take proper care of it,” Oikawa assures Kuroo. “But it could be ours, something we could grow and nurture together, and then watch it bloom.” He ducks his head in embarrassment when Bokuto and Kuroo stare. “Nevermind—”

The pensive look on Kuroo’s face puts Oikawa on edge as Kuroo sighs and lifts Oikawa’s hand to his mouth to press kisses to the tips of Oikawa’s fingers. “Homey, huh? We’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Eh, we have?” Bokuto asks. He looks as confused as Oikawa feels, his arched brows knitting together and his lashes fluttering as he scowls.

“We have,” Kuroo confirms, eyes dropping.

“Sounds serious. Should I be nervous?” Oikawa says, his smile faltering when Kuroo doesn’t meet his gaze.

“The other day Bo and I ran into the landlord, who knows we’re ‘good friends’.” Kuroo’s lips twitch. “The landlord was concerned, told us to pass on a message. Apparently he put a notice under your door about a week ago but hasn’t heard anything back.”

“You’ve been over here a lot, yeah?” Bokuto adds.

“I—yeah, I guess,” Oikawa breathes, not liking where this is heading.

It’s probably been too much, what with him coming over nearly all the time, spending almost every night in their bed with them. At first, it was only when Kuroo was out late studying at the library, when Bokuto would complain that he doesn’t like sleeping alone, but now it’s become a regular thing for them. And then there’s the fact that almost all of Bokuto’s shirts have gradually found their way into Oikawa’s closet. He should give them back, he should—

“A small apartment like this? It’s startin’ to feel a bit crowded,” Kuroo says carefully.

Oh no, oh god he—he’s been overstepping his bounds without even realizing it. He’s been too needy, too clingy. Of course they’d want their space. Oikawa swallows deeply, prepares to apologize and immediately move his things out of their place when Bokuto says,

“Huh? Oh, yeah, right, that! We’ve been lookin’ for a new place—”

Kuroo cuts in, “Preferably one that allows cats.”

“—and were kinda hoping you’d wanna come with us.”

Oikawa startles, nearly falling off the bed in surprise as he grips the sheets and yelps. “I—you—huh?” When he turns to look at Kuroo again, he sees that Kuroo’s cheeks are puffed and his lips are pursed tightly from the excessive effort of restraining his own laughter.

They aren’t breaking up with me, Oikawa realizes with a jolt. They’re asking me to move in.

“You already have your own drawer here, plus your toothbrush’s still by the sink,” Bokuto says. “And you’ve got a key, so, really, it’s like you already live here.”

Kuroo smiles sheepishly. “Plus, we miss you when you aren’t over.”

“So we just thought…maybe you’d want to move in with us on a more permanent basis,” Bokuto finishes, his words clearly rehearsed as he fixes Oikawa with a doe-eyed, hopeful look. “So what do ya say?”

“What do I—?” Oikawa grins dopily and leaps at Bokuto; a wild, elated laugh escaping him as pins Bokuto against the bed. “Yes,” he gasps, pressing a kiss to Bokuto’s chin.

“Yes,” he repeats, his heart pounding fast as hell as he dips down to nip and mouth along Bokuto’s stomach. “Yes.” He trails his fingers along the grooves and contours of Bokuto’s muscles, Oikawa’s breath hitching at the way Bokuto’s stomach flutters and twitches beautifully beneath his splayed palm.

“Yes, god, yeah, of course I want—do you even have to ask?” Oikawa cups Bokuto’s face in his hands and kisses him with force, the two of them clinging to each other as they hungrily drink in each other’s breathless pants. He breaks the kiss when he feels Kuroo’s hand on his shoulder. Oikawa grunts and circles his hand around Kuroo’s wrist as he pulls away from Bokuto.

“And you, Kuro-chan!” Oikawa jabs a finger at Kuroo, half distracted by the circles Bokuto’s absently tracing against his hip. “You’re the worst.” He flicks Kuroo’s ear. “I’m not talking to you for at least a whole week, you asshole.”

In apology, Kuroo drops slow, open-mouthed kisses between the blades of Oikawa’s shoulders. “Aw, babe, m’sorry. We just wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You’re still in trouble, mister,” Oikawa sulks, his mouth falling open on a broken moan when Kuroo sucks a mark against his lower back. He wets his lips and curls his fingers in Bokuto’s hair, nearly flinching as Bokuto skates his fingers across Oikawa’s ribs where he’s ticklish.

God, they’re both going to be the death of him, but Oikawa can’t think of a better way to go. “So we’re really roomies now, huh?” Oikawa asks in disbelief.

“Yep, we’re promoting you from ‘honorary member,’” Kuroo says and Oikawa can hear the teasing smirk in his voice.

Bokuto beams like he’s thrilled Oikawa’s moving up the ranks so quickly, and Oikawa’s helpless but to answer with a bright grin of his own as he laces their fingers together. “You’ll have your own closet space and everything!”

“Plus, Daishou won’t be there,” Kuroo sighs wistfully.

Oikawa snickers and pulls the sheets up around them, draping them around their shoulders as he burrows against Bokuto’s side and lays his head against Bokuto’s collar. He makes a soft sound when he feels Kuroo snuggle in beside him.

“Sounds perfect.” And it will be, Oikawa’s certain of it - his chest already feels warm at the thought of sharing a place that’d be theirs. He hides his smile against Bokuto’s neck, cheeks tingling from grinning too hard and asks, “So, what do you think of the color eggshell blue for a kitchen?”

On either side of him, he feels the rumble of Bokuto and Kuroo’s laughter. Okay, maybe it’s a little bit too soon to be thinking of that. He lets it drop for now, even as plans of plaid wallpaper and a conservatively sized garden begin forming in his mind. That’s for another day.

For now, he spends the rest of their lazy afternoon curled between his two boyfriends, feeling more at home than he’s ever felt before.