my first and last | t. kuroo, h. iwaizumi

go on and kiss the girl

"wait, your boss didn't even let you tell your side of the story?" iwaizumi spoke, looking back over at me from his position on the couch.

i nodded, stirring the noodles and water in the pot. i don't want to brag, but i am a pretty good chef. it's been a while since i made my famous pasta dish as lev was out of the country, but i knew if anyone could appreciate it, it would be my childhood crush. scooping out a thin spaghettum (one noodle), i threw it against the side of the refrigerator. when it stuck, i hummed in satisfaction and pulled the pot off the stove.

"so what now?" iwaizumi questioned, resting his cheek against the top of the couch cushions.

i leaned forward on the counter, staring a little longer at him than i intended. but he looked so incredibly attractive in his simple outfit, sitting on my simple couch. compared to me in a pair of old sweatpants and lev's oversized shirt, he was dressed to the metaphorical nines in his khaki pants and navy polo. it was like he was meant to be in my apartment, maybe even inside–i mean, instead!–of me.

"suspended from work for two weeks until they conclude the investigation. so a whole lot of...this," i answered, gesturing vaguely between us. 

"well, you can just call me whenever you want company. your place or mine, i'm not picky," he grinned at me.

a smile tugged at my lips, and i turned back to the stove before it could completely overtake my features. adding sauce and some basil to the pasta, i carried the two dishes over to the coffee table.

i set one dish in front of iwaizumi, but as i reached across him to place the other one, i tripped over the edge of the rug. the sauce and noodles slipped from the plate, creating a mess across his immaculate khakis. i gasped in horror before profusely apologizing. i reached for some napkins, trying to dab off as much as i could. at least i remembered how to prevent stains from setting even if i couldn't remember my workplace's emergency evacuation.

my hands moved without conscious thought, pressing atop his thighs firmly. until the fifth napkin, i was solely focused on the stain. until the fifth napkin, i didn't realize i was essentially feeling up iwaizumi. i paused in my ministrations, gnawing at my bottom lip. i looked up, and our eyes met.

we were so physically close.

"i think lev has some old pants around somewhere, if you want to see if they fit," i offered.

"okay. i'll...go throw these in the washing machine," he replied reluctantly, finally breaking eye contact to look over my shoulder at the small laundry room.

moving away from his form hurriedly, i rushed to lev's bedroom to grab some old sweats. i yanked open the first drawer, finding only underwear and a well-worn clown costume. 'i'll have to ask lev about that,' i noted before moving to the second drawer where i found what i was looking for.

returning to the living room, i found iwaizumi standing by the coffee table in his boxers and a plain white t-shirt. some of the sauce must have also spilled on his polo, but i certainly wasn't complaining at the image. i took in his sculpted form, almost getting drunk off the sight of his thicc thighs and firm butt.

taking a mental photograph, i announced my presence. "here," i held out the pants. as he reached out for them, his shirt tightened across his torso and muscular arms. i let out a near-inaudible whimpering moan, weak at his handsomeness.

'maybe the pants won't fit. maybe they will but he'll say they didn't. maybe he'll stay like that,' i shot off a quick prayer before a stern knock at the apartment door interrupted.

kuroo pov.

this morning, she was my secretary.

now...now, she was sitting at home, not working. all because my boss couldn't take five minutes to listen to her side of the story. all the electronics of the office–copiers, printers, phones, elevators, coffee machines–posed a hazard at any given time. having so much equipment going at once was bound to cause a fire at some point, especially if there was a missed memo or something about a faulty machine. if it wasn't today, it could've been tomorrow or next week. and if it wasn't her, it could've been me, or hell, even my boss himself.