Work Text:
Many of the employees at Bouncing Ball didn’t understand their CEO, and entirely in their defense, he didn’t necessarily understand himself either. They thought he was quiet and withdrawn, and yet he threw this enormous, extravagant Christmas ball.
The main conference room in headquarters had been rid of its normal desks and chairs and instead sported long banquet tables full of wine and appetizers. The walls, made entirely out of screens that normally were used for presentations, had been set to look like a peaceful winter scene, snow gently blustering about.
Something else that had changed from the typical day to day activities at Bouncing Ball was that the dress code was now black tie and employees mingled in floor length gowns and tuxedos. The same thing applied to the CEO. His normal plain, professional, business attire was replaced by a sharp three piece suit accented in navy silk, hair carefully braided, and a navy and silver masquerade mask.
Oh, and the other thing different about him was that he was absolutely wasted. Sloshed. Hammered. Plastered. Shitfaced, if you will.
His husband on the other hand, was significantly more sober, but no less spectacularly dressed. He did his best to help maintain the CEO’s aura of respectability by constantly removing his husband’s drunken wandering hands from his ass. It was going to be a long night.
Kuroo was tall, that was not in any way disputable, so he was used to being able to see through crowds and find what he was looking for, especially his long-haired husband, and yet, he was nowhere to be found. Kuroo wandered around the room looking for the absent CEO and was absolutely flabbergasted at how fast Kenma was able to escape his watchful eye in his intoxicated state.
He got caught up in a crowd of employees who he made polite conversation with before checking his smart watch to see that he’d been texted. His errant husband was summoning him to his office for presumably promiscuous reasons. With an exasperated shake of the head, he slipped into the hallways and tried to remember where Kenma’s office was. He didn’t really remember what hallway it was in. What happened within the office was significantly more memorable than the office itself.
He made his way around the grand building, getting lost more than once, and eventually found the staircase that he knew led to his husband’s office.
He climbed the stairs, trying to figure out exactly how he was planning on deescalating his inebriated and horny husband. He was difficult enough to disarm normally, but this combination increased the challenge tenfold.
He walked into the office, the door already ajar, to find a lack of his husband there. He wondered if Kenma had also gotten lost on his way to the office and decided finding him was going to be an absolute pain. The building was huge.
Just as he was about to make his way back down the stairs, he had a stroke of genius. He pulled open Kenma’s work laptop and opened it using his fingerprint. He waded through the applications on the desktop, trying to find the right one.
When he finally was able to successfully click into the security camera feed, his jaw dropped. Kenma was back in the ballroom, but there were now a group of men in there as well, one of them holding a gun to his head.
He turned on his heel, and fast, to go rescue his husband, but before he finished his turn, he felt a smashing pain in the back of his head, and then he felt nothing.
When he regained consciousness, he felt the pain long before he opened his eyes. His head was throbbing, blistering pain, as if his brain had suddenly grown three times larger and was slamming against his cranium.
He opened his eyes slowly, and his vision wasn’t quite clear for a minute after opening them. As he regained more and more awareness, he realized that his hands were tied behind his back around the pole that he was sitting against and there was a similar tie around his ankles. It took him a second to remember what had happened and where he was.
He glanced around the room to make sure nobody was watching before getting to work on getting the fabric off of his wrists. It was going to be difficult, but definitely doable. No kidnapper could throw knots at him that were anything more elaborate than what Kenma regularly used to tie him to their bed frame. As it turned out, international criminal masterminds were no match for any man brave enough to let Kozume Kenma have his way with them.
He popped the wrist ties off before moving to the much easier ankle ties. He quickly realized that he was stripped of everything save his clothes and wedding ring. His phone and watch would not be able to help him.
His vision swam as he stood up, almost causing him to overbalance. He held in a pained yelp and tried to keep his wits about him.
He quietly walked down the hallway attempting to stay close to the wall, once again trying to figure out how to navigate the enormous building. At one point he made the mistake of touching the back of his head. It caused him immense pain and blood was smeared on his hand when he pulled it back.
Even with his disorienting blood loss, he saw the person coming from behind him this time.
He whirled around, the quick movement making his head spin, and dodged a punch thrown his way. He lunged hard at the man, but he was able to dodge the advance and swung his leg into Kuroo’s stomach.
Unable to avoid that attack, he doubled over in pain, but forced himself to recover quickly. He was on the defensive once again, but was able to grab the man’s fist as it was thrown at him. He countered with a punch of his own that rang true, slamming into the side of the man’s face, and knocking him out cold.
Kuroo quickly got to work, searching the man’s pockets for anything that could be useful. He grabbed a walkie talkie, a remote with a red button on it, and fabric strips much like the ones he’d been tied up with.
He tied the man up quickly, knowing that surely there would be backup soon and left unhappy with the state of his knots. He wanted to make them more secure, but time was of the essence.
He made his way quietly and quickly through the hallways once more, intermittently trying to unlock doors as he went to slip inside. He slipped his shoes off, hoping that it would allow him a more stealthy passage.
Finally a bit of a plan began to form in his head.
Bouncing Ball had enormous conference rooms with different technology on display. They were locked, supposedly only openable by Kenma’s fingerprint, but he was willing to bet good money that he could override that issue. Kenma had just detailed to him a possible security issue with the technology on their most recent date night.
He did his best to regain his bearings and took a left turn at the main hallway. Despite the protest from his growing number of injuries, he elevated his speed into a careful jog. He thanked himself for sticking to his regimented workout routine. Even though he only did it because his ego loved the way his husband ogled his muscles, it did still have the added side effect of making him strong and quick on his feet.
Making his way down the winding hallways and only losing his way twice, he finally found the hallway he was looking for. There was only one problem. It was being guarded. The man was large, almost as large as him, and a nervous bump formed at the back of his throat.
He gave his hurt knuckles a kiss for good luck, set the things he was holding on the ground, and sprang into action. The element of surprise benefited him greatly, but it still wasn’t enough.
The man turned around and lunged at him with a knife. While he was able to dodge a severe blow, the knife grazed the outside of his arm, causing blood to seep out of the shallow wound. He didn’t let it slow him, immediately going on the offensive. He countered with an uppercut that also missed its mark. He kept his eyes on the blade as the man jumped at him again. Kuroo was quicker this time, kicking at his hand with only his socked foot. While rather risky, it achieved his goal. The knife skidded across the floor.
This didn’t end the fight by any means, he still took another hard kick to the stomach. He briefly wondered if it would hurt less if he had more padding there like his husband did. This time he didn’t double over and instead swung his leg out to knock over his attacker. He swung hard across the man’s face, knocking the light out of his eyes.
Kuroo knew what he had to do, but still didn’t want to do it. He worked quickly, stripping the unconscious man’s clothes off and then his own. He figured this would be the only real chance he had to change into different clothing considering how large he was. He pulled on the heavy pants with pockets all the way down the side and then a black shirt that was admittedly a bit tight on him. From the pockets he rescued more fabric strips and another walkie talkie. He quickly tied one of the strips tightly above where his stab wound was and then pulled his own suit around the man, feeling uncomfortable leaving him there practically nude.
There was only one thing left to do. He needed to grab his stuff, tie the man up, and keep moving. He went for the knife first, bending over to pick it up, when suddenly there was an arm around his neck, threatening his airway. He tried to breathe, but his breath just sputtered. He was going to pass out and pass out quickly, so he did the only thing he thought he could do. He tried to strengthen his grip on the knife and pulled it back hard into the stomach of the man behind him. He pulled it out with an upsetting squelch and drove it back in. Each new stab took more and more focus as he hadn’t been able to breathe and his head was spinning. He couldn’t think. His everything hurt and his vision was blacking. Just as he was about to lose consciousness, the arm around his airway released, and he fell to his knees.
He breathed in and out heavily, trying to get the black spots to dissipate from his vision and recovered just enough to see the bloody knife in his hands. The vision tore him back to what had just occurred and he looked at the lifeless man on the floor behind him, his abdomen leaking blood across the floor.
His first thought was that he was thankful Kenma would be able to afford really good therapy for him. He was very much going to need it. His second thought was that he loved that suit and it was now absolutely ruined.
He finished what he started, grabbing the rest of his stuff, and sliding his shoes back on. He slid both walkie talkies into his pockets along with the rest of the fabric strips, and wiped the bloody knife off on his pants.
Knife in hand he gingerly crept up the stairs. His cut arm and his head ached, but he went as quickly as he could. With a quick glance around he stepped into one of the conference rooms and made a beeline for one of the tablets on display.
He had a feeling he was going to have a difficult time getting this plan enacted successfully, but he was going for it anyway.
The security flaw that he had just learned about was that there was a specific spot on the back of the tablet that when damaged, disabled facial and fingerprint recognition and left it only protected by a passcode. Kenma of course then fixed this flaw with his newest line of technology but many of the old ones still had that flaw.
Step one was actually getting the tablet unattached from the clawlike device that held it attached to the desk. He twisted and pulled before giving up the delicate attempt with a pained shrug and then started knifing the thing. He wasn’t having much luck, but he was able to cause a small crack in the plastic. That would be more than enough. He was super ripped after all.
He got as good of a grip on the tablet as he could in his wounded state and pulled hard. It took two attempts but he managed to crack it out of the holder, throwing himself backwards onto the ground into the process.
When he got up, he saw blood smeared on the floor and scrunched his nose. He made a mental note to remind Kenma to triple the pay of anyone tasked with cleaning the enormous building after this fiasco was over.
He was going to try to get into the tablet, but decided he wanted to find a better hiding spot first. There were simply too many glass walls on this side of the building. He tucked the tablet in his waistband, changed the makeshift bandage on his arm and quietly made his way back into the hall.
He practically staggered his way across the building, attempting and failing to do so swiftly and quietly as he prayed he wouldn’t come across anyone else on his way to the more private offices.
His prayer wasn’t answered.
There were two this time, coming at him from either side and one had a gun. He was debating running, but he knew that not only could they just shoot him during his escape, but a nine year old could probably outrun him with how beaten up he was.
He took a minute to mentally tell his husband that even though he was about to die, that he loved him. He focused all of his thoughts on telling Kenma to be happy, to find another person to love, but to never forget him. He conjured up an image of Kenma on a date with his urn in the third seat and felt oddly at peace.
Then he sprang into action.
He gripped his knife and first went for the man with the gun. At the beginning of this catastrophe, he was attempting to knock his enemies out, not kill them. He wasn’t a violent person. He took bugs outside instead of killing them, and he wouldn’t rough his husband up in the bedroom, no matter how much he begged, but that was over now. With his knife in hand, he aimed straight for the man’s throat.
Unfortunately he missed his mark and instead caught a gun to the face, his cheekbone blooming in pain. He almost fell over, reeling from the blow, but he lashed out with the knife once more, the knife, finding its target this time, plunged into the man’s abdomen.
He pulled it out with a flick of the wrist, not wanting to lose his weapon. The man swung a fist at his head but he dodged it. The man was off balance due to his unsuccessful swing, and Kuroo slipped through that minuscule crack in his fighting ability and slashed the knife right across the man’s jugular.
Blood sprayed out in spurts, flying everywhere. It was in Kuroo’s eyes, his hands, his hair. He could taste it in his mouth.
Not to be deterred by the bitter taste or his now very interrupted vision from his burning eyes, he wrestled the man’s gun from his wearing grip and let out an unhinged cackle as the man’s lifeless body fell to the floor.
His work wasn’t done though, the other man across from him brandished his own knife with a snarl. Kuroo aimed the gun at him, his finger over the trigger.
“Oh, please,” the man spit, “You’re not even holding it right.”
“I’ve admittedly never shot a gun before,” Kuroo told the man, his blood loss causing his lack of brainpower.
“And you’re not a killer, so you’re not going to shoot me,” the man said with a laugh, “Unless I come at you with this.”
“You have my husband and I will do whatever it takes to rescue him,” Kuroo spat.
“I’ve heard that a thousand times,” the man sneered, Kuroo not missing the fact that his hand was inching towards a walkie talkie, “But you have morals or whatever. You can’t kill a man who is just standing right in front of you. Not threatening you in the least. Look, I’ll even put my knife down. We can talk this out so you’re not scarred the rest of your life once this is all over. You’re a good man.”
“No need,” Kuroo said, squeezing the trigger, thankful for the fact that the safety was off.
His shot was off and he hit himself hard with the butt of the gun in the nose due to the recoil. He was aiming at the man’s chest but it went straight through his forehead instead, killing him instantly.
Sparks flew in his field of vision from the self inflicted hit to the face and he spit blood, a mixture of his own and the man’s he knifed, onto the floor next to the man he shot. Blood was quickly pooling on the floor.
He worked as quickly as he could in his injured state. He grabbed whatever supplies he could from the very dead men and made his getaway. His bloody footprints followed him down the halls.
He made his way to a janitor’s closet, to find it locked. He shrugged and aimed the gun at the lock like he’d seen in many action movies.
He did in fact blow the entire doorknob off, but he wasn’t prepared for the loud sound, his ears ringing and losing hearing. He snapped his fingers in front of each of his ears to find himself unable to hear them. It was fine. He could learn JSL. Though he would miss the beautiful moans he dedicated his life to pulling out of his husband.
He closed the door behind him and stacked as many things as he could against it because the door was swinging open. It had no doorknob. He had to do something.
He then sat against the wall and decided to start tending to some of his wounds. He didn’t have much to work with, mostly fabric strips, but gave it a go. Tying them around wounds where he could and using them to apply pressure to the ones where he couldn’t.
He took out the tablet to begin attempting to break through the security flaw. He hit it. Stabbed it. Pistol whipped it, but it was to no avail. He couldn’t activate the security flaw. Not being able to call emergency services or access the camera feed was going to make this a hell of a lot harder.
He also stared at the walkie talkie, willing it to actually work. He hadn’t heard a single word on it so far. Not being able to use it to gain information was also going to make this a hell of a lot harder.
Essentially, the entire situation was shaping up to be a major pain in the ass.
He debated just holing up in the closet and taking a big long nap until this nightmare ended. He was in a significant amount of pain, nothing was going well, and he didn’t even have a plan.
After a second of waffling, he determined that was quitter talk. He was going to destroy this band of criminals. That was the absolute least he could do for his husband.
He needed a way to sneak around quietly. Even with the amount of men he had taken out, he was surely far outnumbered and his clothing didn’t seem to be making him blend in particularly much. If he had to brute force his way through this, he was never going to win.
He already tried the walking around shoeless method. It didn't really come with much success. His next plan wasn’t particularly well thought out, but it was factually a plan nonetheless.
He realized that one of the things that made this situation difficult for him, would be a double edged sword against the others. They weren’t using the walkie talkies, which meant Kuroo couldn’t get information but neither could they. He was going to pick them off one after another.
Sliding the tablet in his waistband, gun in hand, knife in pocket, he crept slowly out of the room. He stayed close to the wall, sidling towards the next hallway. He did his best to keep his back protected, not wanting to be caught off guard. He was planning on being the ambusher, not the ambushee.
He took a deep breath in and out and poked his head around the corner, seeing one man on guard duty. That was perfect.
He steadied himself before walking into the hallway, aiming and firing.
The kickback once again caught him off guard and it took him a second to recover. When he looked up, he discovered that not only did he miss, but the other man was now firing back.
Moving as quickly as he could, he fired shot after shot, retreating backwards. The man doubled over, returning one shot that hit Kuroo in the stomach.
Technically, it hit what was in front of his stomach.
He ran into his closet and barricaded himself back in. Once he was satisfied with his barrier, he pulled the thing out of his waistband that just saved his life.
He sent a mental thank you to his husband for creating durable technology.
He flipped it over, looking at the bullet that was lodged into it, the bullet that should have been inside of him. He was about to chuck it to the side before accidentally hitting the home button.
It turned on. Even better, it asked for just a password. Apparently all it takes to disrupt Kenma’s technology is a bullet hole.
He typed in: KuroIsAKozume!11.17
The tablet unlocked and he breathed a sigh of relief. Things were finally going his way.
He quickly realized that things were not in fact going his way. The tablet was unable to make calls or open communication of any type. No wonder they were using walkie talkies. They must have jammed the signals.
The last thing he did was try to pull up the camera feed. To his surprise, a video came up, but it wasn’t on the live feed. It was short, only a few seconds, and on a loop.
He watched over and over.
Someone dragged the man he dressed up in his suit in the opposite end of the room as his husband was. Kenma tried to rush across to him before being grabbed by two of the men. Once they released him, he fell to his knees sobbing.
Kuroo saw red. There would be no mercy, only hell to pay. Nobody made Kozume Kenma cry. Not while he was alive.
He cracked his knuckles, preparing to kill every single one of those bastards.
His anger propelled him into a new plan, a stealth plan. The one he should have gone with in the first place.
He stacked box after box, just enough so that he could climb up into the air vents. Considering the fact that he was absolutely enormous, this wasn’t going to be the easiest thing in the world, but he knew it was the correct thing to do.
He fit, technically, just not particularly well. It didn’t bother him. He’d squeezed into a lot less comfortable things to please his husband, so really, it was like he’d been preparing for this.
He made his way through the vents, sliding on his stomach, using his hands to propel himself. Admittedly, he didn’t really know where he was going, but he was going to do his best to figure it out. In the meantime, someone deserved a talking to.
He clicked the talk button on one of the walkie talkies.
“Listen up you bastards,” Kuroo said, “If I find out that a single one of you disturbed a single hair on my husband’s head, I will personally skin you all alive and make a rug out of you that I will hang in our living room. Got it?”
“Jesus Christ, dude,” he heard one of the men say in response.
“We’ve spent a lot of time and money on decorations, and your skin isn’t going to match, so I’m going to have to carve the pattern currently on our throw pillows into your skin,” he explained as he slid around the vents, trying to get his bearings, “I will have nothing less than perfect decorations for the love of my life’s living room.”
“Honestly, what the fuck,” a different man said.
“Enough of this,” a third said, “We don’t care that you’re ex-military or whatever you are, the second we see your face, we will kill you and then your husband. Or maybe we kill your husband first and make you watch.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, you sickos,” Kuroo spit into the device, “I’m in the Sports Promotion Division of the Japan Volleyball Association.”
“What?” the second man asked, “You’re what?”
“My name is Kozume Tetsurou, you’ve upset my husband,” he said, “Prepare to be skinned alive.”
“Listen, Kozume Tetsurou, you don’t stand a chance against us,” the first man said, “If you surrender now, we will let both you and your husband live.”
Finally, Kuroo was able to find a break in the vent where he could see where he was. He was close, but more importantly, he knew exactly where he needed to go.
“You may beg me for mercy,” Kuroo said with an unhinged grin, “But mercy is between you and God. All I’m doing is setting up the meeting.”
He worked quickly making his way to where he knew his husband was. Sliding across the vents was doing unfortunate things to his thighs, the ridges digging in, but he’d been punished by his husband in the bedroom many times. This was child’s play in comparison.
“How dare you speak of God in this way,” the man spat, “Who do you think you are?”
“His husband,” Kuroo responded, moving the ceiling tile below him a few inches, just enough to see the scene below.
Men stood on the perimeter of the room. There were no more than ten of them and they appeared to all be armed. The guests were contained in between them, sitting on the floor, looking anxious. His husband, his beautiful husband was directly below him, a man holding a gun to his head.
“Your arrogance will be your downfall,” the man who Kuroo could now see responded, “This is not the Wild West. You are not Billy the Kid.”
He sent Kenma some mental asks. Move, love. Get out of the way. I need to get down and ideally not crush you with my body. I know you keep asking me to do that but it’s not going to be sexy. It’s going to hurt both of us. Please move.
It somehow worked. Kenma was arguing with the man with a gun to his head, a reminder to Kuroo that he would never win an argument against Kenma. The man went to talk to one of the others on the perimeter and told Kenma to stay put, but he moved just enough. He took a deep breath in and prayed the fall wouldn’t kill him.
“Yippee Ki Yay, Motherfucker,” he said, tossing the walkie talkie behind him.
He slid the ceiling tile all the way off, shot at the man who was the one that had previously been holding a gun to his love’s head, and jumped.
Chaos ensued.
He hit the ground hard, surely bruising his tailbone and getting to his feet was a lot more difficult than ideal. He scanned the room to see people fighting the bad guys and his husband running towards him. He finally got up to his feet and held out the knife to Kenma.
“The gun, sweetheart,” Kenma said, “Give me the gun.”
Kuroo immediately complied like he always did and gave Kenma the gun, keeping the knife for himself.
“Aren’t you glad I’m not dead?” Kuroo asked.
“Oh, I knew that wasn’t you,” Kenma hummed, “You’d never let yourself die if I was in danger.”
They stood back to back, warning each other about incoming enemies that escaped the beatdown from the crowd that had begun. It was a full debacle and the sounds of screaming, gunshots, and fists finding their targets littered the air.
Kuroo watched stunned as Kenma picked off the bad guys that rushed them one by one. He really wanted to be more help, but his ankle was fried. He could hardly stand, let alone run.
“Sweetheart, you’re so fucking hot right now,” Kuroo whispered as Kenma picked off two more men, perfect headshots.
“It’s all those FPSs, sugarbear,” Kenma responded, focusing on his next target.
“Directly behind you,” Kuroo hissed, “I’m ducking.”
Kuroo, true to his word, hit the floor and Kenma spun around, picking off the man rushing his husband with three shots to the chest.
Kuroo wobbled as he got up, his blood loss catching up and quickly as three people began to rush them from all sides.
Kenma fired two shots into the first man and turned towards the second, but the gun fired a blank. They were out of bullets. It was over.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Kenma said, breathing heavily as the two men rushed the two of them.
Kuroo groaned through the pain and grabbed Kenma by the arm, pulling him back to a nearby wall. He then used his body as a shield in front of Kenma and brandished his knife. It was all he could do.
The first man who appeared to be unarmed came at him. Kuroo threw himself at the man, sloppily but not without passion. The man easily dodged him, delivering a punch to his face. He felt his teeth rattle and tasted blood
Kuroo screamed.
He didn’t let the blistering pain in his head or his quickly fading vision stop him from swinging his knife as the man made his next pass.
Really, it was luck, not skill, that led the knife to sink into the man’s chest. Kuroo was out of it. The blood loss and the many hits to the head finally making themselves known. He was not invincible. He was going to die in Bouncing Ball headquarters. But that was a valiant way to die, as long as he could save his husband in the process.
He pulled the knife out with all of the effort he could muster and slammed it back into the man’s chest. He pulled it out and did it again, and again, until the man collapsed.
He didn’t have more than a second to breathe before the next man came at him. Kuroo held up his knife, determined to protect his husband.
He heard the gunshot before he felt it.
It was to his shoulder. The same arm that had been cut. It felt like a punch. The man aimed and fired again, this time hitting his leg, he swore and lunged forward at the man, but he collapsed onto the floor.
He didn’t know what to do. He was desperate. As he lay there dying, he slammed the red button on the remote in his pocket, hoping it would help and not kill them all.
The last thing he heard as he faded out of consciousness was, “Not my husband you bastard!”
He thought of Kenma. His beautiful Kenma on their wedding day. The look on his face as they kissed for the first time as a married couple. He practically felt Kenma against his chest as they did their first dance together. They couldn’t dance but that didn’t matter. They swayed to their favorite love song.
He came to, slowly, and the pain was unbearable. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck. Slowly and slowly his memories started to come back. He remembered where he was and what he had done. He remembered being punched. Kicked. Stabbed. Shot.
He then remembered that Kenma was in danger.
He ripped his eyes open and suddenly realized it was raining in the building. His vision swam and his head was slamming in pain. He could hardly stay conscious as he looked around for his husband who was nowhere to be seen. He couldn’t tell what was happening. His ears weren’t working. His eyes weren’t working. All he knew was that he tasted blood and he was soaked, whether it be the rain or all of his own blood.
He didn’t know what to do, so he did the only thing he knew how. Kenma. He had to find Kenma.
He got up, very unsteadily. On his first step, he fell to the ground. The gunshot wound to his leg, not helping. He screamed in pain as he gave it another shot.
He was up, standing, and took tiny steps. No more than a few inches. He didn’t know where he was even trying to go. He was just going.
To Kenma. He was going to Kenma.
He hobbled, his vision swimming, pain begging to be felt. He still couldn’t find his husband, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do so from the floor or even the same spot upright. He had to move.
“Lovebug!” Kenma called, “Sit the fuck down. You’re injured.”
“No,” Kuroo said, letting the tears fall, “I came to find you.”
Kenma limped towards him with medical supplies in his hands.
“Sit. I grabbed these. The medics are going to come to us as soon as they can,” Kenma said, “Let me help you.”
It was all Kuroo could do to stay standing as Kenma hobbled himself towards him.
Kuroo grabbed Kenma by the chin and kissed him, hard. He wound his hands through Kenma’s soaked hair as he licked his tongue into Kenma’s mouth. The rain was coming down hard, dripping down their faces. It was cold. Kuroo shivered, but he wasn’t about to let anything get in between him and his husband.
Kenma suddenly pulled away.
“Sit down, my love,” Kenma said, “You’ve lost a ton of blood.”
The two of them flopped to the floor and Kenma began treating him, giving him compresses and tying off the large wounds. Kuroo pulled his shirt off, wincing in pain as the places where it had stuck to the wounds was disturbed again.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Kenma said, looking up and down his body as he opened another pack of bandages.
“Why is it raining?” Kuroo finally asked.
“You hit the button and it blew up half of the building. Those are the fire sprinklers,” Kenma explained.
Once the big wounds had been dealt with to the best of Kenma’s ministrations, he started taking alcohol wipes to his smaller injuries, spreading antibiotic cream on them, and then applying a bandage. Kenma worked quickly, then screamed through gritted teeth when he accidentally set the antibiotic tube on his leg.
“Sweetheart,” Kuroo said, “What’s wrong with your leg.”
“Shot. Four times,” Kenma said, “The medics tied it off, filled the wounds, shot me up with painkillers, and bandaged it to stop the bleeding, but it’s going to be gone in a few hours. They said they’re not going to be able to save it.”
“I’ll kill those motherfuckers,” Kuroo said, seeing red, trying to get to his feet, “Where are they?”
“Dead, honey, they’re dead,” Kenma said, “Sit. Heal. The medics are coming.”
“I’ll carry you everywhere you need to go,” Kuroo said, crying, “I’m so sorry.”
“Stop, pumpkin,” Kenma said, kissing him on his forehead, “You’re the only reason we aren’t all dead. You did everything you could. I love you.”
“I love you,” Kuroo sobbed, “You are my everything.”
“The feeling is mutual, my dear.”