LET'S GET THIS STRAIGHT I'M NOT, nekoma · fukurodani

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Knuckles knocking three times, you stand before the volleyball team's club room door, feet gently tapping against the floor while you wait for anyone inside to answer your call.

When a few seconds passed and still nothing happen, you raise your arm again to reenact your previous actions, but the door swinging open stops you from doing so.

It reveals a deadpan Teshiro already changed in his morning practice clothes, consisting of a t-shirt and a pair of blood red shorts that reach three inches above his knees. "Good afternoon, Y/N-san."

"Afternoon, Tamahiko." You responds, flashing him a brief, pigmy smile as he step aside and open the door wider to let you in. The boys were quiet busy shoving their belongings inside the lockers specked with a few splotches of rust. Seems like they just finished changing.

While they were having a lively chitchat about the randomest theories, Kenma is sitting down on the floor by the corner like an introvert he is. Too focused on his game to even notice your arrival.

Nose detecting the slight stank of musty and sweaty smell, your tired eyes roam around the place and you quickly note how the club activity room look kind of messy, with a few used clothes laying here and there.

Some cobwebs also decorated the ceilings, and formed layers of dust can be seen coating the white window ledges.

The club room's poor state must be because they were way too tired after practice to even mind cleaning up the place, and the lacking of manager for years to maintain the squeaky cleanliness didn't help.

But of course, that was all until now.

'I'm gonna search for some Lysol bottle and rags later.' You made a memo in your brain, already trying to plan out how you will start cleaning the place when you find time where you aren't that busy anymore.

Without much thought after, you crouch down and begin picking up the discarded dirty clothes and dumping it in the black, plastic laundry basket you brought here along with you.

Closing his locker, Yamamoto is the first to notice you doing such thing and his eyes immediately widen, almost out of panic. "Y-Y/N-san! What are you doing? You shouldn't do that!"

"Are you sure...? Nekomata-san asks me to wash off the jerseys while you guys practice. So I thought I might as well clean these too." You told him, mumbling the last part as you put the random stained shirt inside the basket. "Besides, this place is kinda messy."

You pick up the strewn black shirt and dump it in, before quizzically eyeing them, as if asking for reassurance. "Y'all sure you don't want me to wash these? I mean, I insist though... and I can return it to you dried fresh and clean once the practice is over."

"Nah, it's okay, really­―" Kuroo tries to answer, but Lev cuts in.

"Oh! Is that so? If you insist―" the silverette shuffle through his locker, pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of socks then stretches it out to you with a grin. "Then you can also wash these, Y/N-san!"

Yaku didn't think twice to slap the back of his kouhai's head, hoping to knock some sense to him. "YOU DAMNED MORON! HAVE SOME SHAME AND WASH THAT STINKY SHIT YOURSELF!"

Lev shrieks in pain as he cries out, "But Yaku-san I don't wash my own clothes! Alisa washes them!"

Perking up at the mention of the turquoise-eyed beauty, you snatch away the dirty laundry from Lev's grasp and drop it off the basket. "Is there anything else?"