Haikyuu!! Oneshots

Actions Are Indefinite (Tetsuro Kuroo)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Pixiv Id]

Requested by: No One

Word Count: 3,825

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:
- Toxic Relationship (Not sure how but it is)
- Alcohol
- Sexual Tension; "Good Girl"
- Boss/Employee Relationship

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Vibrations fight with the weight of the liquor in my system to etch their way into the skin of my hand. My phone wins, momentarily pulling my attention away from the man speaking gibberish to Morisuke and me. Well, to Morisuke, I just happen to be present.
My brother is back in the country on a short trip, no surprise there. He's usually only home for holidays or something to do with volleyball. I don't mind though, Morisuke has his ways of being present in my life without physically being present. Daily calls, weekly FaceTimes, gifts, random grocery deliveries, wiring money, and a lengthy text lecture if my bank account gets a penny below a thousand.
My brother has always been a bit of a... well, a helicopter parent. Micromanaging everything at all times if it has anything to do with my life or the lives of our younger brothers. Lucky for Morisuke, the youngest of our siblings is in his last year of high school, studying abroad in Russia. Aka, always under the watchful eye of our oldest brother. My fellow middle child is also studying abroad, his first year of college in England. Aka, the least micromanaged of us because of his college choice.
     I'm stuck in a happy medium. Far enough not to have Morisuke breathing down my neck, but still in our home country. Aka, he can pop in whenever he feels like it and has enough connections to help me move forward or - his personal favorite - to track every aspect of my life. The top dog in that running being Tetsuro Kuroo.
Tetsuro, who I've been shadowing and interning for. Like the older man, I hope to have a career in sports media. Unlike him, I want to be a journalist, not a promoter. Tetsuro, who bent me over his desk, even though he's technically my boss and one of my brother's longest-lasting friends. Tetsuro, who had no shame using the fact he's 'watching over me' to tattle to my brother that a big-time journalist was 'being a little handsy' at our lunch meeting about my next internship and the possibility of it being with his magazine.
Tetsuro, who's calling me for the tenth time tonight. Tetsuro, who I've been ignoring for the past two days. Tetsuro, who dug his heels when I requested time off until my brother informed him why I was requesting time off; to prepare and come to this dumb party to celebrate Russia's and Japan's official match. Tetsuro, who declared our moment - more like an hour - in his office, on his desk was a mistake, a lapse in judgment. Tetsuro, who said it meant nothing and wouldn't be happening again. Ever.
     I smash the big red decline button, sending his call to my overflowing inbox. Each message is laced with his voice. Some disguised as work calls, some simply telling me to call him back, and others telling me I'm acting like a spoiled brat.
I am a spoiled brat, Morisuke made sure of that. He's spent my whole life, even up to this very moment, making sure he - not our father - was the foundation of what I searched for in a man. Before I even utter a want or need, my brother takes care of it. Whether it's something as small as a back rub or something as big as moving to Russia with him; a selfish want of his that he's been not so discreetly dropping hints about. My brother's selfish want that doesn't seem so bad at the moment.
"Morisu - "
Before his name is fully off my lips, his hand is waved at a waiter, beckoning them to fetch me another drink to add to the long line of glasses I've left in my wake tonight. My brother doesn't bat an eye or stumble over his words as he sends out the order. From an outsider, it would look like his full attention is on his teammate. It's not.
     The lengthy tab under his name and the lack of lectures about 'being presentable' and 'not getting sloppy drunk' tip me off that Morisuke knows something's wrong. The fake unawareness of my alcohol intake lets me know he hasn't a clue in the world what it is. Actions, his specificity, are indefinite, always telling the true meaning of someone's thoughts and feelings.
It's good he doesn't know what's going on, at least in my book. The last thing I need is his image getting tainted because he punched his friend's teeth out. However, I'd give just about anything to curl up in Morisuke's arms and cry over the heartache consuming my chest.
Just as the waiter is coming back with my sixth - or maybe it's my seventh - cranberry vodka, my phone vibrates again, forcefully shaking in my hand. I snatch the cup from the staff rougher than I should have but I don't care for long. The weight and chill of the glass on my lips paired with the burning and sour taste seeping down my throat eases my empathy as soon as it bubbles in my chest.
     "He's been calling you a lot tonight," Morisuke mutters, plucking the empty glass from my fingertips when I tip it away. "The only time he's called even Kenma more than twice is when he's overslept. He's called you eleve - " My phone starts vibrating again, cutting my brother off. "Twelve. He's called you twelve times tonight."
     My eyes skirt down to my phone, denying Tetsuro once again. "You know how Kuroo gets. He's a workaholic. He probably just misplaced a file and wants to know if I know where it is," I try to lie, forcing my words out slowly so I make sure they come out properly and not heavy like my tongue feels.
     After my voice stops, I hold my breath in hopes Morisuke will believe me. He stares at me, unblinking, for a few moments before snapping his mouth into motion. "Call him back so he'll leave you be. Stop at the bar on your way back too. Your words are coming out tanged."
On the one hand, I'm glad he believed me. On the other hand, I don't want to call Tetsuro back, but my brother is as right as always, even if he didn't fully say it. I won't stop receiving calls until I answer or call back.
Like clockwork, as soon as I step out of my brother's bubble, my phone shakes and lights up with the picture of him and his high school friend again. It's an outdated picture, one of the millions taken at their graduation, but it's the last photo I have of the two.
Reluctantly, I press the green button instead of the red one. "Mr. Kuroo," I grumble into the phone, the tips of my ear feeling hot against the chilly glass. My eyes snag on the bar, my brother's voice ordering me to stop at it ringing in my mind. Technically, he just said to stop at the bar, he didn't say what to order even if it was insinuated he wanted me to get a glass of water.
     "The fuck did you just call me?" He asks, voice even, steady, and deadpanned. Tetsuro might not ever raise his voice loud enough to yell at me, but he has other ways to get his point across if his cursing wasn't enough. "In the ten years I've known you, Buttercup, you've never once referred to me as Mr Kuroo. Kuroo-San, ya, but not Mr Kuroo."
     "In the almost ten years I've known you, Mr Kurro, you've never once thought about fucking me on your desk and yet here we are," I respond, echoing his phrasing to mock him. The liquor on my tongue helps smooth the words out easier. It helps me slide into the barstool at the counter easier too. Vodka, two. Me, also two. Tetsuro, zero.
     One of his chuckles rings across the line. Not his light airy business laugh or his crackle used around his friends. No, this one is dark and almost warning, a noise that reminds me of smooth whiskey. "Buttercup, since the first day of my second year, since your first day of high school. Since I walked into class and you were perched on Yaku's desk in that short little skirt that showed off how your thighs spread like butter on the laminate. All I could think about is fisting your hair and sinking my dick into you bent over that goddamn desk."
     My heart flutters at the confusion, and not the heart pounding in my chest. I must not be drunk enough if the stupid bed-head can still get a rise out of me. "Forgive me for talking out of line, Sir, but you're full of shit right now, Mr. Kuroo," my hand flies up as I degrade my boss, waving at the waiter that brought me the last drink I had.
     "Actually," I start up again once the waiter nods, turning to start working on my next drink. "Don't forgive me, seeing how you're interrupting my personal time and according to my year contract as your intern, before the hour of seven in the morning or after the hour of five in the evening I'm not to be contacted for any of your needs. Mr Kuroo."
     I know it's petty of me to call him that again and that it'll crawl under his skin, but that's the point. Tetsuro wants to keep a professional relationship? Fine, I'll remain professional.
     When the waiter walks over with a chilled glass and my steady drink of the night, the relief of being tipsier almost erases the man on the other end of the phone. Almost. "If even a drop of that alcohol touches your lips I'll make sure that flirty little waiter doesn't work another promotion event of any kind," Tetsuro's icy voice echoes through my phone, the coldness of it not taking away the evenness.
     My hand snaps away from the glass, my eyes darting around the event room in search of the ex-winged spiker. "He's not being flirty and I'm old enough to decide if I want alcohol or not," I whisper, as if that'll make searching for him any easier.
     Tetsuro is full of shit right now. I bet he's not even here. I bet he took an educated guess on what I'm doing or has Kenma or one of the players feeding him updates on what I'm doing. The thoughts help me relax, my body turning back toward the bar as my free hand wraps around the glass again.
     "It's not common to freeze a glass for a cranberry vodka, Buttercup. If Yaku tabbed out his bill right now, how many of your drinks do you think Mr Wandering-Eyes 'forgot' to ring in?" Okay, maybe he's not full of shit. Maybe he is here somewhere.
     "If I told my brother you fucked me in your office like a pornographic secretary, how many of your teeth do you think he'd knock out?" I counter, raising the glass off the bar and slowly trailing it toward my lips. I might not be able to see him, but he sure can see me. Fine Mr Kuroo, do you want to test each other? Let's test each other. Words might sound pretty, but actions are indefinite.
     A hand slips over the opening of the glass, the knuckles of it pressed against my lips because of the short opening between the rim of the cup and my mouth. "Every last one of them, Buttercup, and I'd spend the whole time thinking about the way you begged me to choke you harder with your lanyard." Tetsuro's whisper cracks over the call at the same time it's whispered in my unoccupied ear, shooting chills up my spine.
     Actions are indefinite, words are not, and Tetsuro is whispering in my ear, the back of his fingers pressed against my lips to keep the alcohol I ordered parted from my tastebuds.
     He slowly pushes the cup down until it ticks against the counter again, his fingers sliding down the side to rest on top of mine. The dinging of the call ending rings in my ear for a moment or two before his voice is paired with it. "You've had enough to drink tonight, so, you have two options. You can float back over to your brother and ignore those soaked panties of yours - "
     "I'm not wet." Lie. Big, fat, fucking lie. My thighs are drenched, the material of my underwear clinging to my pussy because of my arousal. I've been dripping since he asked what I called him.
     Tetsuro's hand not wrapped around the glass snakes over my back, fingertips looping against the material of my dress before sliding down my rib cage. "You have two options," he repeats, his hand settling on my thigh, clawing at the skirt of my dress to hike it up my legs. "You can go back over and let Yaku take care of you, ignoring the sweetness you're wasting on this barstool."
     His fingertips brush against bare skin before rolling down, fingers prancing over me before settling on my mess. "Or you can let me take care of you," he mutters my second option, a single finger slowly ghosting up and down my clothed cunt, making me squirm on the stool secured under me. "Are you going to come with me to finish my important conversations like a good intern or are you going to continue sulking next to your brother as you try to drink away the feeling of my hands on your skin?"
     My tongue feels heavy again, weighed down with pounds made of vodka and lust. "I suppose starting to network will help me later on." My voice is so low I'm convinced he doesn't hear me, at least until his soft, normal laugh caresses my ear.
     "If you do tag along, it means no more drinking for the night, Buttercup, and some water to help sober you up." I grumble but don't put up a fight as he flags someone over.
Tetsuro's aura darkens as the same guy returns, the waiter's eyes jumping between the two do us. "Ms Yaku, how can I help you?" The man asks, his attention settling on me.
"She'd like a water," Tetsuro answers for me, his hand falling from the air to rest around my throat, his fingertips slightly digging into my flesh. Actions are indefinite, and at this moment his actions seem to counter his words from the other day. It wasn't a lapse of judgment, it was a lapse of self-control. The same gap is happening now.
"Isn't that right, Sweetheart?" He asks, words cool but tone laced with venom as he glares at the waiter. Tetsuro's head tips down, lips brushing behind my ear before his teeth snag on my earlobe, gently tugging on it before he pulls back again.
"Ya," I exhale, eyes locked on the waiter to help keep myself grounded. The worker has a mix of a pissy attitude and annoyance on his face before he turns away, grumbling to himself about 'high-class women'.
As soon as the waiter walks away, Tetsuro takes a step away from me, his hand and lips equally pulled from me. "It's repulsive a man like that thinks he stood a chance."
"You don't have to be so mean," I snap at him, turning my head to glare at the lengthy man. "Don't forget not that long ago we both attended one of the poorest schools in our district. What's gotten into you? Acting all prissy and like you're this big flirty guy. I've seen you stumble over your words ordering a coffee from a cute cashier."
A spark of the usual happy-go-lucky Tetsuro flickers through his eyes before getting snuffed out. "His bank account isn't why he doesn't stand a chance. He won't show you even an inkling of the respect your brother does. As for the other half of your complaining, I've embarrassed myself enough times in front of you that I can't do much worse. Besides," his voice drops to a hush and his head tilts down, his lips next to my ear again. "I already know what you think of me, Buttercup. That's a luxury I don't have with most people."
     Once again, Tetsuro pulls away from me, just in time for the waiter to set my glass of water down a little more aggressively than needed. I let the moment roll off my back as the water rolls down my throat, banished to mix with the too much vodka and too little food in my stomach.
     "Good girl," he whispers when I set the glass back on the counter. His hand cups my chin as his thumb rubs at the corner of my mouth, cleaning up a drop trying to escape.
     Tetsuro's fingers move slowly, tracing the lining of my jawbone, feathering over the skin of my neck, and caressing my shoulder before falling down my arm. Goose bumps are left in his wake, decorating my skin in tiny hills and my nerves with a soft chill. "Let's go finish up my business," he orders again, his hand cupping mine to help me off the barstool.
As soon as my heels click against the floor, his hand tugs mine upward, resting it on his bicep to sandwich my fingers between his arm and his side. If I didn't know any better, I'd think Tetsuro was using me as eye candy.
My stomach swishes as I'm led away from the bar, efficiently starting the war between the water and liquor in my system. My attention is focused on not getting sick on the shiny floor or the dress so expensive Morisuke refuses to tell me how much he paid for it.
At least, my attention is on my stomach until my name is called. "Ms Yaku," an older man in a suit similar to Tetsuro's calls; a huge grin on his face as he looks down his nose at me. His face seems familiar but I can't quite put my finger on it. "I assumed you'd be wrapped up with Russia's libero instead of our promoter." Ah, he must be one of the endless businessmen playing a hand with the Japanese official team; one of the men constantly filtering in and out of the office.
"I'm sure my brother has carved out time for me after his match," I respond, putting extra weight on the word 'brother'. Somehow, our parents mastered having four children that look nothing alike. Pair that with my last name and people lacking the understanding of Morisuke's behavior being rooted in trauma and not romance, and it leaves me in a sticky situation with my brother, on multiple occasions.
Confusion, disgust, and then understanding flicker across the man's face. "I was starting to wonder what the deal with the flowers was. Forgive me but the name 'Morisuke' didn't ring any bells."
That's another one of my brother's habits; sending a bouquet every Wednesday to the office, usually paired with a passive-aggressive note. Most of the time it's about not letting his friend overwork me or to drink water. This week's note was actually pleasant, Morisuke gushing about seeing me again after three months apart.
     The man's attention dies away from me, amping up as he talks to Tetsuro about Hinata's and Kenma's recent video together. I don't mind though, it gives me the time to focus on keeping the contents of my stomach in my stomach.
The next hour stays about the same. Tetsuro whisking me away after his conversation just to run into another suit-tailored man or floor-length dressed woman itching to talk about the players or promotion plans or the upcoming game. The whole time I focus on not getting sick and try to ignore the heat beckoning my skin to coat itself in a dewy sweat.
"Well I appreciate the offer, I think my date needs some air," Tetsuro's words rise above my inner voice trying to will my body heat to drop even a degree.
Date? Who's Tetsuro's date? My eyes scan the room, especially the space near the two of us. He didn't have a woman when he found me, though I don't know where he popped out of so maybe he did. Where's my brother? I should find him and ask him to drive me home.
The water quickly lost its battle with the liquor, no matter how much or how often Tetsuro was pouring it down my throat. My body is starting to feel that loss, most notably, my body heat is feeling it.
"Come along, Buttercup," he whispers in my ear, checking my grip on his arm before I'm pulled away from the small group of people he was speaking with. "We need to cool you down before you overheat."
"What about your date?" I ask, my words sounding slushy even to myself.
His usual chuckle fills the air, softer than the one he uses with his friends but deeper than the laughter he's been using all night. "My date's brother wasn't on the ball as much as usual. He let her drink more than I thought. Maybe we should have her throw up instead of just using water."
"Me?" I murmur, keeping my tone low as I fight off another wave of nausea. I shouldn't have had so many drinks, it's unprofessional for one, and for two, it doesn't feel too nice anymore.
"Yes, you, Buttercup," Tetsuro coos, holding the bathroom door open as he ushers me in. I slide past him, the chilliness of the room instantly coating my sticky skin. He follows after me, taking a second to lock the door before his hand is present on my stomach.
His head tips for the millionth time tonight, lips pressed against my ear as he paints out the agenda for the rest of the night. "After we let you get sick and get you cleaned up, we're going to go outside. I'm going to watch you bounce on my dick in the back of my car like you're craving so bad, of course, not without punishing you for ignoring me the past few days. Then, I'll return you to Yaku and we can finish off tomorrow when you come into work."
My stomach churns, but this time it's not caused by my overuse of vodka. I've been so focused on not getting sick on myself or any of Tetsuro's business partners that I've almost forgotten my uncared-for needs at the bar top.
Almost. Every flex of his bicep or long glance my way overrode my sickness for arousal, the same way it's doing now. "Is that what you want, Buttercup?" He whispers in my ear, pairing it with a dragged kiss behind my ear.
     "Yes."