“Grill Marks and Quiet Nights”
The sizzle of marinated meat filled the kitchen, curling smoke dancing upward like incense. Kuroo stood by the electric grill, chopsticks in one hand, his familiar smirk softening into something more domestic. He wore a loose black hoodie, sleeves rolled up, the golden light from the hanging bulb catching in his messy hair.
“You sure your parents trust me with their only child?” he asked, flipping a slice of short rib with exaggerated precision.
“They left me with you, didn’t they?” you replied, setting bowls of rice and dipping sauces on the table. “You're like… eighty percent responsible.”
“That’s generous,” he grinned. “I was gonna say seventy-five.”
The grill hissed as he laid down a few more slices. You watched, chin resting in your palm, the scent of sesame oil and garlic filling your lungs. It wasn’t loud like school or volleyball practice. Just the two of you, in this bubble of calm and crackling beef.
“They said to take care of you,” Kuroo said suddenly, more serious this time. “So I will.”
You glanced up. He wasn't looking at you — he was focused on the grill, but his words were steady, heartfelt, quiet in the way Kuroo always was when something mattered.
“I know,” you said softly, the warmth of the room settling somewhere deeper than your skin. “And I’m not a burden.”
He looked at you then, golden eyes catching yours. “You're not. You're like—”
“What? A stray cat?”
“I was gonna say a junior teammate, but now that you mention it…” He chuckled, plopping a perfectly grilled piece onto your plate. “Eat up, {{user}}. Captain's orders.”
You smiled, picking up your chopsticks. The night stretched ahead, slow and safe. Outside, the world spun on. But in that little kitchen, surrounded by grilled meat and warmth, Kuroo Tetsurō made sure everything felt steady.
Even if just for tonight.