A/N: I'm the worst, to run off and do other things for so long. Thanks for the continued support :)

Rating: M

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(A Bloodless Steal.)

Anything could have happened. It could have ended up as nothing, a forgotten mark on a colourful timeline of unfolding sexual desire. Or an incident he would vaguely recall as an amusing inversion of his true preferences.

But it didn't unfold that way. If it did then Aomine wouldn't supposedly have a 'type'. Silly school rumour, honestly. He wasn't the type to have a type. He considered himself rather indiscriminate, trying to find something else that animated him, aside from ball. And no blonds… blondes. He didn't want those.

He was too abrasive to be classically popular but everything he did following Teikō's first championship win and his scoring average sent his cohort into a tattling frenzy. On campus, his peripherals were crowded with too many people openly staring. The off-court attention was tiring and he checked his own careless behaviour for a period but at that point the school had grown used to talking incessantly about three things like clockwork - Aomine the tomcat, Kise the model, and impending exams. All three annoyed the shit out of him.

He began to play truant.

It helped a little, getting away from people. The parameters he carefully laid down defensively to contain those unwanted feelings felt lighter when he was alone. Aomine's carefree deception was so complete no one knew the real reason behind his gradual change into a more distant, contained person. Not even Tetsu. In any case, the quiet boy was too absorbed by the gradual, but discernible changes to their team dynamic.

Inwardly, he was compartmentalising, closing the door on the corner of his mind where a certain boy slept. He trained with the physical manifestation of that person, sometimes at lunch, after school, into the evenings one-on-one. Surprisingly there were few consequences, emotionally. The resemblance between the two was easy to ignore. Most of the time.

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(Flare up.)

"Dare."

The green bottle continued its vigorous spin, rattling against the wooden floor.

Around the circle, everyone looked at Akashi, then back at Aomine with identical expressions of pity.

"Ah." Aomine scratched his head. Shit. If it were anyone else he would say I dare you to kiss Testu's right nipple! but for their captain…

"I'm waiting, Daiki." Aomine could almost feel the two glinting eyes boring twin holes into the top of his lowered head. The bottle rolled into a halt, bottlehead direction sealing his doom.

"Er, I dare you to kiss…Tetsu's hand…" He trailed off lamely.

There was a harsh intake of breath. "Mistake, Aominecchi!" Kise hissed from the corner of his mouth.

"Too late, idiot!" Aomine hissed back. Akashi inched across the circle, reaching forward. He was really going to do it! They all watched nervously as the redhead examined Kuroko's hand with a blank expression, touch trailing from the inner wrist to the tip of their phantom's left index finger. Finally, regally, he bent his head and pressed his lips against the centre knuckle.

Akashi placed the hand down carefully and withdrew back to his original sitting position. "My turn to spin."

Bad feeling, bad feeling-

The smooth and fast rotation of the bottle, guided by their captain's hand, looked ominously graceful.

-bad feeling, bad-

"Truth or dare, Daiki?" Akashi asked casually.

Aomine forced himself to swallow. There was no fighting it. "Ah…truth." The bottled slid to a stop. No one looked.

"Marry, fuck, kill. Your choices are Shintaro, Atsushi and Ryota. Choose."

Midorima jerked upright, his mouth gapping open in surprise before bending downwards in mute disapproval. His indignant glare however was reserved for Aomine, who immediately answered without a shred of remorse: "Midorima, I'd kill. Duh. God proposes, man whatever my ass."

"It's man proposes-"

"I'm not the marrying type," Aomine interrupted loudly, "but I'd probably marry Atsushi out of these three, because at least dinner would be good-"

"-Mine-chin, I'm only good at dessert…"

"-and that leaves Kise for the fuck. I guess. I'd kill him, but sure as hell not fucking Midorima..."

While Aomine descended into gales of laugher as Midorima stormed off, declaring the game asinine, a faint smirk coloured Akashi lips. No doubt the ace thought he got off lightly. Since I always win, I'm always right. Truth? I always know the answers. Aomine was a condemned man, from the look on Kise's face.