Kenma recognizes him from the broad lines of his back and the strong muscles that cover his shoulders and biceps. He doesn’t move much but when he does, they ripple like water, flowing so smoothly it’s mesmerizing. Kenma can’t see much at all; there’s no moon out and the street lights are down, but he knows this body well enough.
Kenma opens the door softly and steps out. From the slightest stiffening of Iwaizumi’s shoulders, he knows the man is aware of his presence, which is impressive since he’s always been quiet in his movements. He walks forward and grabs onto the railing, the cold metal biting into his skin.
It’s rare for Kenma to initiate a conversation. It isn’t lack of interest so much as it is the fact that he’s rarely comfortable enough to start talking to someone. But his curiosity is far too great when it comes to Iwaizumi. The man is different from the others in the band. He never asks Kenma questions, never tries to pry, and respects his personal space, though he does smile at him occasionally and he makes great coffee.
Iwaizumi doesn’t turn to look at him but he smiles a little, his dimple barely visible. “Yeah, it’s just one of those nights, you know?”
Kenma nods because he does in fact know. Leaning forward, he rests his chin on the metal and winces when the cold hits him harder than he expected, but it’s not a bad sensation. The wind feels nice, just this side of chilly, and the silence is welcome. They don’t live in a good neighborhood, and there’s always fighting and loud music and an absurd amount of yelling.
But on this night, at 2:47 in the morning, with the stars hiding behind the clouds and the moon nowhere in sight, Kenma has never liked this place better. Iwaizumi’s presence is strangely comforting, and the sound of his every inhale followed by a soft exhale makes Kenma unconsciously sync with him.
“Do you like it here so far?”
The tone of Iwaizumi’s voice makes it abundantly clear that Kenma is free to ignore the question if he wants to. He appreciates that, and decides to answer honestly.
“Haven’t really been here long enough to decide,” he says, eyes sliding shut, “but I think I’m going to stay just a little longer, if that’s alright with you.”
Iwaizumi huffs out a laugh, and it’s strangely endearing. “No problems here.” He brings the cigarette to his lips and takes a long drag, and Kenma watches as he blows out the smoke with a sigh, a white cloud forming into the silent darkness of the night. The metal of his tongue piercing shimmers when the headlights of a passing car shines on it, and Kenma’s breath hitches in his throat.
Iwaizumi offers him the cigarette without turning to look at him and Kenma accepts it gratefully. He takes a generous drag of his own and the feel of the smoke calms him with its familiarity. Blowing out the smoke with a lengthy exhale, he hands it back to Iwaizumi, and he feels a new bond form. It’s intimate in a way he’s never felt before, warm even when it’s cold, and he actually likes it. Might even get used to it.
He finally turns to face the man and takes in his profile, and it keeps surprising him, how handsome the raven-head really is. “Has Kuroo always been this insufferable?”
Iwaizumi’s eyes widen at the question before he starts laughing, loud and deep, and Kenma finds himself smiling along.
“You could say that, though Oikawa is right up there with him.” Iwaizumi winks, a playful smile dancing on his lips, “Don’t tell him I said that though.”
Kenma covers his mouth dramatically and Iwaizumi nods his approval. The two grin and face the street again.
The view isn’t terrible, if Kenma’s being honest. They aren’t high enough for him to feel anxious, but he can easily see the park a few metres away. A sigh of content escapes him and Iwaizumi mirrors it and they just stand there, shrouded by the comfortable silence between them that mingles with the silence of the night.
A/N: 3.1K of Sin Bin logistics, guys being dudes, and dudes being gross. I couldn’t stop laughing writing parts of this. It’s ridiculous. I’m sorry.
Dex cracked an eye open. He’d been asleep on the green
monstrosity, post-kegster. The light coming through the window was thin and
gray, and he could hear Bitty in the kitchen, humming softly as he washed
dishes. Ransom and Holster were not yet acting as cleanup crew, so they were
presumably still asleep. Nursey was across the room, curled in an armchair.
They’d rock-paper-scissored for the couch. The victor had surprised no one.
Standing over Dex was Chowder, his brows pinched and his
hands fidgeting at his sides. “Dex,” he whispered fiercely.
“Huh?” Dex asked, tucking a yawn into his elbow.
“Dex, the dryer’s broken again.”
Dex sighed and sat up. He ran a hand over his face, wiping
sleep away. “Sorry, Chow. It’s the best I can do.”
“It’s making… noises.”
“Yeah. It’ll work as long as you don’t put too much in it.”
“Dex, it sounds like it’s going to catch fire.”
“I know. We’re only $700 away from a new one. $400,
probably, after last night.” After much debate, it had been the first kegster
where they’d charged an entrance fee.
“This is the third day I’ve worn this pair of boxers.”
Yeah, they really needed that cash.
Dex blinked slowly, shook his head, breathed through his
nose. “Ok. First, gross. Second, I – gross. Third, the washer still works. Hang
up your laundry. I have a drying rack in my dorm. I don’t really need it, so
I’ll bring it over.”
Chowder looked about to cry. “Thank you, Dex.” He grabbed
the back of Dex’s head and rushed forward to kiss both his cheeks. By the time
Dex could protest, he was already bounding up the stairs, hopefully to get his
dirty laundry and fucking wash it. Dex personally hoped the others followed his
example. There’d been a certain ambiance around the haus the past week.
Dex would bring over the drying
rack, but a single drying rack could not handle the laundry of a haus full of
hockey players. It would be a temporary solution, a bandaid over a bullet
wound. He’d have to find a way to get the money soon.
Everybody is like “SHOULDERS TOUCHING” but for real look on either side of nursery and dex, there’s enough room for them to sit comfortably apart but they’re not, Dex isn’t backed into the armrest of the couch he’s leaning on nurse like dude