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“Daichi, what is this?” Kuroo asks, fingering the slim black box. He knows what’s inside already - the external hard drive contains roughly 2 terabytes of blackmarket-worthy information, enough dirt on enough people to make sure Kuroo lives more than comfortably for the rest of his life. He just wants to know why.
“A gift,” Daichi grunts, not sparing a single glance back as he stuffs his belongings into a cardboard box. It’s a little unconventional, yes, but they’ve both been agents long enough that they’ve done weirder things.
“But why? If it’s a birthday gift you’re a few months too late,” Kuroo says, laughing awkwardly. The sound rings loud and hollow in the quickly emptying room, and Kuroo can’t help but fidget with the box in his hands, running his thumb against the seam.
Daichi remains silent. The tension in the room is palpable; ever since Kuroo stepped foot inside he’s felt it. He bites his lip and digs through his memories, trying to figure out why Daichi might be angry at him.
“...Daichi?”
Daichi’s shoulders go tight. With a sigh, he turns around, his dark eyes trained on Kuroo. “Don’t… don’t send me anymore. I’m done.”
“Is this about what I did on the undercover mission? I was drunk, dude, you don’t have to - it didn’t mean anything.” That’s a lie. Kuroo had been drunk, yes, but it meant a whole lot more than nothing to him.
Somehow it seems like that was the wrong thing to say. Daichi’s expression goes pinched, and he goes back to his work. “I’ve already filed my paperwork with Kenma.”
Panic grabs Kuroo by the guts and squeezes. “Wait, what? You can’t be mad at me for kissing you - sometimes, sometimes it happens! I was drunk, I - “
“You don’t have to make excuses. It’s - I’ve got personal reasons why I’m leaving, alright?”
“Are you - for good?” Kuroo asks, and his voice is so small. The sound of it makes Daichi pause for a moment, before steadfastly continuing to shove clothes into the box. It’s almost full by now, and the ice crawling up Kuroo’s veins tells him that that’s the last box he needs to pack. “But why? We’re incredible together. Did I fuck up somewhere? I’ll stop, I promise. Just tell me what I did!” Kuroo doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He wants to grab Daichi’s arm, to physically stop him from continuing, but he can’t.
Daichi sighs, and he sounds so tired. It’s all Kuroo can do to keep from begging him to stay. But Daichi was different. Special. Before, the job was just a job. It was simple, impersonal. Send your man out, guide him safely through, and revel in a fat paycheck if he survived. But then Daichi happened, and somehow they just… clicked. Daichi didn’t look like much, but he was steady. Reliable. Trustworthy. And in an industry like this, something like that was worth your weight in gold.
“I can’t stay, Kuroo. I’m compromised,” he says, and he doesn’t meet Kuroo’s eyes. There’s something in the way that he says compromised that makes Kuroo’s heart fall to his stomach.
“Compromised, meaning…?” Kuroo digs, because that can’t be right. Daichi would never betray their agency; it’d be suicide to.
...Fuck. “Ushijima’s not going to send guys down to kill you, right? I’m not find you in a dark alley on the wrong side of my gun, am I?” he asks, and he can’t help it if his voice croaks a little bit. Ushijima was a good guy, a great boss. But he was far from merciful, and he wouldn’t put it past him to give Kuroo the honor of putting down a stray dog.
The look on his face must be something ridiculous, because finally, something gets a smile out of Daichi. It’s a hollow shade of what it usually is, but Kuroo still counts it as a victory. “No, not like that,” he says. “The director even sent me an email wishing me luck.”
“So you got a better job?” Kuroo asks, trying not to sound as disappointed as he feels. Something selfish in him wonders how little their relationship meant to him if Daichi didn’t even warn him before hand that he was job hunting.
“Not quite,” Daichi says with a shake of his head. He looks amused, in a sad sort of way. If that were possible.
Kuroo catches a glimmer in his eye, something that he knows means Daichi’s gonna do something reckless. Everyone always thought Daichi was the level headed one of the two, but really, it was a toss up. Daichi’s gambles generally just tended to work out better than Kuroo’s, is all. So, when he grins a grin like he’s staring into oblivion and asks, “Do I really need to spell it out for you?” Kuroo instinctively goes tense, trying to parse what Daichi’s trying to get at. Kuroo’s not entirely sure what Daichi wants from him, and the adrenaline amps up his anxiety to the point where he can’t figure out what he even means. Four degrees and roughly 9 years of experience, and Kuroo can’t even solve a 10-word question from an ally.
Daichi huffs an amused sigh and grabs Kuroo by the shirtfront. Kuroo’s too lost in thought to put up much of a fight as Daichi hauls him in until they’re nearly chest-to-chest. Like this, their height difference feels even more staggering, and Kuroo can still smell the coffee on his breath. The thought strikes him as wildly inappropriate, shocking him out of those looping circles of what does that mean, what does that mean, what does that mean?
Daichi pins him in place with a look of steely determination, and for a second, Kuroo’s vaguely scared that he’s gonna get decked. But his expression goes soft as his hands go up to cradle Kuroo’s kind-of-grossly stubbly jaw, and he laughs. “Of course you’d overthink this,” he whispers, and Kuroo can’t help but go wobbly at the tenderness. Daichi brushes his thumb against that barely-visible scar on his jaw, his eyes flicking down to Kuroo’s nose and back up into his eyes. Even all soft like this, Daichi has that same look of grim determination on his face as he does when he’s looking down at the barrel of a gun, and Kuroo can’t help but feel his heart lurch with want.
Before he can think better of it, Kuroo closes the gap between the two of them and does what he’s been aching to do for months.
When Kuroo realizes what he’s done, he jerks away, staring anywhere but at Daichi as he stammers out, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking - I was - that was - I should have asked.”
Daichi looks at him with 100% pure and absolute disbelief, and Kuroo distantly realizes that his cheeks are red. He’s not sure if that’s a good sign.
Daichi’s mouth gets all screwed up, and he lamely shoves Kuroo’s shoulder. “I can’t believe you just did that,” he growls, and Kuroo wants to crawl into a hole and die.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he all but wails, his cheeks going hot with embarrassment. He can’t look at Daichi for more than a second at a time, but his panic-stricken mind tells him that any second Daichi really is going to deck him. Like any kid that’s grown up lanky and awkward and generally pretty weird, he resorts to his usual line of defense against bullies and basically anyone bigger than him. - letting his mouth run. Only he’s got nothing to actually say to Daichi, nothing beyond, “I couldn’t help myself, you’re leaving, and I’ve wanted to for so long, and I shouldn’t have done it but I was drunk and I mean I’m not drunk now, but I wanted to make it real Ijustlikeyousomuchand mmf--”
There’s a mouth against his mouth, soft and slow and insistent, and Kuroo’s mind goes blank. It was pretty much blank before, but it goes extra blank now.
If it weren’t for Daichi’s strong hands keeping him upright, he’s sure he would’ve probably fallen to the ground by now. He holds them together long enough that Kuroo’s eyes start tearing up, before finally, he pulls away, breathing hard. “This is what I meant when I said I was compromised,” Daichi says, breathless.
“Oh.” Oh. “Wait, you’re leaving because of that?”
Daichi looks appropriately embarrassed, taking a step back from Kuroo. “You said it meant nothing,” he says, his voice quiet. It’s weird seeing him like this, made small and vulnerable.
“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Kuroo returns, breathless. “You don’t have to leave - I can talk to Kenma and get him to call back the papers, you don’t have to - “
“I’m still going,” Daichi says, definitively. “There are rules against fraternization. You’re still technically my superior.”
Kuroo looks at him with disbelief. “But, but that doesn’t mean we can’t - I can keep a secret,” he protests pathetically.
Daichi snorts a laugh. “Kuroo, I’m still going. You’ve got my contacts. You can still call me, idiot.”
“Yeah, but - “
“Don’t worry about it,” Daichi grins, grabbing Kuroo’s arm and pulling him close again. “We can still make the best out of the time I have left, can’t we?”