#theyre in sleeping bags because yaku's family ran out of futons and because i forgot about futons. :D

[goatunderthebridge]

It's night-time. Kuroo and Kenma settle down in their sleeping bags on the floor in Yaku's family’s spare room, his tiny living room already overflowing with their teammates' sleeping bodies from the impromptu team sleepover that Yaku had drawn the short straw in hosting. It had taken thirty minutes for Yaku to regret it, which Kuroo took as an achievement considering their history of wild and chaotic sleepovers. He was more surprised that nothing had been set on fire this time.

Well. The night was still young.

Yaku shifts awkwardly around them, watching as they settle, his eyes flicking back constantly to the hallway. Probably making sure someone isn't awake and wreaking havoc unsupervised, Kuroo muses to himself.

Yaku rubbed at his eye, red with tiredness and irritation from the hot sauce Fukunaga had dared him to dab there, “Are you sure you guys don’t need anything else?”

Kenma pulls the cover of his sleeping bag tight to his face and burrows down into it, letting out a small sigh of contentment.

Kuroo waves Yaku off in reply, “We’ll be fine. Thanks for this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Yaku replies before narrowing his eyes pointedly at Kuroo, “But if you wake up early and want to find me - don’t.”

Kuroo flips him off with a chuckle that Yaku gladly returns.

“Bathroom is the first door on the left, towels in the cupboard to the right. Sweet dreams,” Yaku says as he leaves the room without a backwards glance at either of them.

The duo listen as the door shuts softly and Yaku's footsteps become lighter down the hallway. Moonlight streaks in through the window, neither one having closed the blinds. Kuroo thinks about getting up to do it, but the warmth of his sleeping bag is too much to resist as he unconsciously sinks further down into it and the pillow beneath his head.

“The moon’s bright tonight,” Kenma says in a voice barely above a whisper. Kuroo turns his head to look at him, but is only met with a few blonde locks sneaking out of the sleeping bag next to him. He smiles.

Kuroo replies, shifting in his sleeping bag, “You want me to close the blinds?”

The sleeping bag shimmies, in what Kuroo can only translate as Kenma shaking his head. Kuroo hums affirmatively in response. Silence settles in the room between them, with Kenma hidden in his sleeping bag and Kuroo watching the dust dance in the moonlight.

The rustling of Kenma’s sleeping bag draws his eyes back to it. Amber eyes half-lidded with the lure of sleep met his own as Kenma peeked out of his sleeping bag.

“You’re not sleeping.”

It was less of a question, stated so matter-of-factly in spite of the muffle from speaking inside of the sleeping bag that Kuroo couldn’t help the upturn of his mouth into a half-lopsided grin.

“Neither are you,” He replies, turning to his side to face Kenma.

Kenma watches him settle into the new position, both comfortable in the silence that beats between them. Light from a passing car filters in and out of the room, casting a brief orange glow on the pair. Kuroo watches as Kenma turns his face from the light, closing his eyes for a second before re-opening them. More silence. Then, somewhere, a dog barks.

“What are you thinking about?” Kenma asks first.

Kuroo shrugs as well as he could in the sleeping bag, “Dunno. Lots of things.”

Kenma rolls his eyes, burrowing the side of his head into the pillow under it, “Tell me one of them, wise guy.”

Kuroo cracks another grin before a yawn itches through his throat, making Kenma yawn slightly in response, his eyes blinking languidly as he waits for a reply.

Kuroo settles again, thinking about how he could reply. He could tell him how his arm was aching after the arm wrestling match Yamamoto had challenged him to, how Kuroo knew how much he wanted to win with Fukunaga watching him. More immediate in his thoughts, he could talk about the moonlight, about how flames don’t have shadows, or about how there’s never really ‘nothing’ around you because atoms exist, and atoms are something.

He could tell Kenma about the new nightmares he’s been having lately, the ones where he can never seem to rescue everybody from whatever disaster his mind had conjured up, and how he’s deathly afraid that that final person left behind is always himself. There were so many things he could say, but he didn’t want to say any of them. Not when Kenma looked so beautiful in the moonlight.

“I was thinking,” Kuroo drawls out, watching as Kenma’s eyes focus back on his face in interest, “That your roots are showing.”

Kenma’s hand shoots out of his sleeping bag to jab at Kuroo’s chest as he scowls, ignoring Kuroo’s bark of laughter.

“Rude,” Kenma tsk’s, pushing Kuroo for emphasis before slinking his hand back into his sleeping bag and rolling over to make Kuroo face his back.

Kuroo shuffles closer to him, kicking at him lightly with his large, makeshift tail in the bottom of the sleeping bag.

“C’mon, you know I love you.”

“Mhm.”

Kuroo steals the freed space on Kenma’s pillow, abandoning his own, and kicks him lightly again. To this, Kenma rolls back over, face close to Kuroo's now, and huffs.

“You’re an idiot,” Kenma says.

Kuroo smiles, “I know.”

Kenma rolls his eyes but smiles back anyway, before slinking his face down into the sleeping bag with a tired exhale. Kuroo watches him, the smile not falling from his face.

“Night,” Kenma says, softened from inside the bag.

“Night,” Kuroo replies as softly, watching the gleam of his hair in the moonlight.