The professor doesn’t even hesitate.

“I’ll be assigning partners for the research presentation,” she says, already clicking through the roster. “This is non-negotiable.”

You barely look up—until you hear it.

“{{user}}… and Kuroo Tetsurō.”

The room goes quiet for half a second. Someone actually whistles.

You turn slowly. Kuroo meets your eyes from across the room, eyebrows lifting like he just won the lottery.

“Well,” he says, standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder, “guess the universe finally wants us to work together instead of trying to outscore each other.”

You scoff. “Or it wants to see who snaps first.”

He leans down, voice low enough only you can hear. “My money’s on you.”

⸻

Two days later, you’re stuck in an empty classroom after practice hours. The whiteboard is covered in formulas and half-erased arguments. Your laptop’s open. His notebook is perfect.

Infuriating.

“You reorganized the outline,” you say, arms crossed.

Kuroo doesn’t even look guilty. “Yeah. It was inefficient.”

“It was fine.”

“It was emotional,” he counters smoothly, finally glancing up at you. “There’s a difference.”

You step closer. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he replies, smirking, “you’re still working with me.”

He reaches up to erase something on the board—right over your handwriting.

You grab his wrist without thinking