Drabbles 2014 Part 7

Note: Contains material published July and August 2014

Disclaimer: Don't own

360. Beholder (fem!Mibuchi Reo/male!Momoi Satsuki) for anon

Satsuki loves basketball in a completely different way from Reo; he's interested in the stats and the projection and the math of it; he has zero interest in holding a ball in his hands or the feel of his feet pounding the court—but he does appreciate the beauty of the trajectory of a shot, the way it flies off of a player's fingertips and into the hoop. He smiles at his clipboard and pushes up the sleeves of that grimy sweatshirt, but he can't hide the thrill in his eyes nor does he even try to.

He's made his own peace with his lack of athletic skill and that's admirable in and of itself—even if it did start out as him just chasing his childhood friend, he's grown to love the sport on his own. She tries to teach him to shoot but he laughs her off; he's got the theory and the timing down but the ball just thuds against the backboard when he tosses it at the hoop. He lets her stand there with his arms around him, leans back against her chest (he's comfortable with Reo being that much taller than him—not that Reo would settle for less) and tilts his chin up to kiss her neck.

He tells her that being an athlete does not make her any less of a woman—sometimes she hates how he can almost see right through her and find her insecurities so easily, but most of the time it's reassuring in an odd sort of way. Perhaps he has an odd perspective, but in a way it matches up with hers, complements it perfectly—and that's what she likes best about him.

361. Sleepy (Himuro Tatsuya/Miyaji Kiyoshi) for anon

Miyaji leans back and sighs. He's already pretty damn tired but the work won't do itself and there's a test tomorrow—if he stops now the stuff he was just about to go over is going to end up as a fundamental section on the test (because that's how it always goes) so he might as well get to these last ten pages now rather than get up before it's light outside.

There's a knock at the door—well, maybe; half the time he thinks it's there and it's just the rattling of the old door against the frame. It comes again.

"The door's unlocked."

The knob turns and the door opens; it's that Himuro kid again, half-asleep and clutching his pillow. He'd seemed like he could take care of himself, but then again even the toughest brats are still brats.

"I don't have time to hear about your nightmares, kid. I got a test tomorrow."

He yawns. "It's not that. My roommate kicked me out."

"Why, snoring too loud?"

"His girlfriend's over."

And this is one of the many reasons Miyaji is insanely glad to have scored a single this year. "After you're asleep? Seems like a dick move to me, kid. You should have stayed and cockblocked."

He shrugs. "I'd rather not."

He's got that awful fake smile on again.

"Out with it; I don't have all night."

"Can I sleep on your floor?"

"I'm working right now."

Himuro blinks. "No one else answered the door."

Probably all drinking and were afraid it was an official or something. Typical. Miyaji sighs.

"Fine. And take the bed; I can't be stepping all over you."

"Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah."

Himuro settles in and Miyaji skims through the final ten pages (he can read them again at breakfast), slamming the book shut. Himuro's watching him through a half-closed visible eye and Miyaji glares at him before he turns off the light and locks the door. (That's kind of creepy, isn't it, staring?) He's already wearing his pajamas so he plops down on the bed next to Himuro.

"Move over, brat."

"Miyaji-san, that's quite…forward of you."

"Don't act like you didn't plan this, kid."

Himuro smirks against his neck (when did his lips get that close? Why isn't Miyaji pushing him away?) and Miyaji sighs again. At least it's comfortable like this.

362. A Night of Stargazing (Hyuuga Junpei/Izuki Shun) for anon

Even in the dark he can't evade Izuki; he never could. It's always seemed unfair, as if Izuki had stolen his eyesight (his got worse as Izuki's seemed to get better all throughout elementary school) but it's no use complaining at this stage of the game when far worse fates could have befallen him. Hyuuga flops back on the grass and stares up at the sky; Izuki settles down next to him a few seconds later.

"Hey, Hyuuga."

"What?"

"You've always played a starring role in my life."

Hyuuga elbows him in the side. "Go away and take those lame one-liners with you."

"You're blushing."

"It's too dark to see that, idiot." Even with his eyesight—and even if Hyuuga was blushing.

Izuki curls against his side, kicking at his ankle with a bare foot.

"You're cute, Hyuuga."

"Shut up. That wasn't even a pun."

Izuki hums; his breath tickles Hyuuga's neck. Hyuuga sighs.

"You're impossible."

He rubs Izuki's back as he says it, fingers tracing light circles that Izuki still reacts to through the fabric of his t-shirt. He looks even prettier than usual with the faint light from the moon and stars and Hyuuga's porch on his face, not that Hyuuga will tell him. He doesn't want him to get a swelled head or anything.

363. Play Date (Kirisaki Daiichi) for anon

It's just like them to all show up uninvited like this and cause trouble—they're never up to anything good, but at least in school it's amusing and on the court it's productive. At his house it's annoying at best and infuriating at worst, and Makoto's patience is wearing very thin right now. He wants to flop on his bed in misery but Kentarou's already sprawled out across it and taking up nearly the whole thing, arms and legs spread out.

"Will somebody help me move him?"

Hara leans back in Makoto's chair. "What's your wi-fi password?"

"I'll tell you if you help me push him off."

"Really?"

"Of course not; I wouldn't fall for that. You'll just use it to download porn."

"How could you imagine me doing such a thing?" Hara flings his arms out dramatically.

Makoto sighs.

"Anyway," says Hara, "is that your diary Furuhashi's reading?"

"I don't have a diary," Makoto snaps as his head whips around.

"Hey! Put that down and stop reading!"

"I wasn't reading," says Furuhashi, dropping the book on the floor. "I think Yamazaki spilled chip crumbs on it or something."

"That is so your diary."

"Shut up, Hara! And don't read things that don't belong to you."

He jabs Furuhashi in the chest.

Furuhashi just stares down at him. "I said I wasn't reading it."

Makoto glares and clenches his fists, grabbing the book from the floor. Arguing with Furuhashi is like arguing with a brick wall; it's a complete waste of time especially when Kentarou still won't move and Hara's trying to hack into the wi-fi.

"Where the fuck is Yamazaki?"

"I'm over here."

Yamazaki reaches into his bag of chips, dropping crumbs all over Makoto's game controller. Makoto throws the book at him.

"Stop messing with my things, all of you!"

"Hey, Furuhashi, see if you can find his porn collection."

Hara's lucky he has good reflexes.

364. Late (Miyaji Kiyoshi/Himuro Tatsuya) for anon

He lets loose a stream of miscellaneous curses from his mouth as he grabs his keys, wallet, books, bag, shoes; he throws on a sweater and a dirty pair of jeans from the floor and grabs his coat. There's no time to take a shower or even grab breakfast; he might have time to review those last few pages before class but he'd meant to get up half an hour earlier. Hadn't he set his alarm? As he slams the door behind him he realizes he doesn't have his phone on him, and there's no time now to go back and get it. And Himuro's still half-asleep on his floor; Miyaji doesn't really trust him (the reasons not to are numerous) but he can always replace most of his stuff (well, except for his collector's edition idol group fan, but that's hidden very safely away and Himuro doesn't seem like he's into that kind of thing) and he'd rather pay to do that than miss this test. It's really fucking important.

(-)

He doesn't want to jinx it, but he feels pretty good about the test—everything that had been on it he'd studied. He's got several hours before his next class, so there's time to get back to his room and fix everything up properly, maybe even take a shower or a well-deserved nap.

The brat is back on his bed, buried beneath the comforter. Didn't he used to live in, like, Akita?

"What the hell are you still doing here?"

Himuro rolls over, bleary-eyed, and answers him in English.

"Don't try to impress me by being bilingual."

Himuro blinks. "Sorry. I don't have class today."

"I'm sure your roommate and his girlfriend are out of the room."

Himuro blinks again. "Join me?"

This innocent-kid act is really getting on Miyaji's nerves. On the other hand, Himuro was warm last night and he'd really rather not waste his precious time arguing when he could be napping. He kicks off his shoes and throws his sweater and shirt onto the floor, crawling into bed behind Himuro and pulling the comforter over both of them. He finds his phone and sets the alarm for two hours in the future, and then another one for ten minutes after that for good measure. Before he can set a third, Himuro tosses the phone out of his hand and places Miyaji's arm around his waist.

"Goddamn brat."

"Mm."

At least he's more eco-friendly than a space heater.

365. First Sleepover (Miyaji Kiyoshi/Takao Kazunari) for uneplumesombre

It's become a routine, meeting in the darkness of the late winter evening by the gate when Takao gets out of basketball practice and the librarian makes Miyaji stop studying for the day because they're closing; the orange glow of the streetlights flickers over their faces as Miyaji pulls Takao in for a quick kiss and stuffs entwined hands into his coat pocket and then they begin to walk.

Today Miyaji pulls Takao in the opposite direction from where they usually go, away from Takao's house and toward his own.

"My parents are out tonight."

Takao looks up at him; his nose is already red from the cold but his cheeks are flushing too fast for it to be an effect of the weather. Miyaji grins.

Takao squeezes his hand, and they're far enough away from the lamppost to be almost completely in the dark, so it's fine if he kisses him right here. Takao kisses back half-sloppy and overenthusiastic, even more so than usual, and they're both grinning into each other's mouths.

(-)

They take everything slowly tonight because they can, because no one's about to walk in on them; it's nice to not be crushed by enclosed space or short time, to actually enjoy each other's bodies for all they're worth. Takao is gorgeous, and Miyaji rarely articulates or appreciates that to its full extent, the firmness of his muscle and the litheness of his limbs and his sheer agility are astounding, even like this.

They fall asleep together, Takao curled up like a cat in Miyaji's arms, the smile on his face almost serene (if Miyaji didn't know any better). He fits, they fit, perfectly like this, arm against waist and head against chest, content at last.

366. Sleepover (fem!Murasakibara Atsushi/fem!Himuro Tatsuya) for leonast

"Muro-chin, I'm bored."

Himuro looks up from her notebook. "Do you want to study with me, then?"

Atsuko closes the door behind her and shuffles to the bed.

"I've studied enough today; I want to sleep."

"So why don't you go to bed, then?"

"I want to sleep with Muro-chin."

For a fraction of a second, Himuro's visible eye widens. "That's bold of you, Atsuko."

She flops down onto the bed next to Himuro, grinning. "Are you thinking about dirty things?"

Himuro shrugs, flipping over the next page. "Maybe."

Atsuko pushes her down against the bed; Himuro struggles against her grip but Atsuko's too damn strong. She licks a path down Himuro's neck; Himuro squirms and bites back a moan. Atsuko's pinning Himuro down with her legs and one arm; her free hand is roaming up and down Himuro's torso way too freely.

"I thought you were tired."

Atsuko pauses, having unbuttoned the second button on Himuro's shirt and slipped her hand inside; the feeling of skin against her bare stomach makes Himuro shiver.

"Yeah."

She releases Himuro and lies down next to her, pulling the covers over them both.

Himuro slides out of bed to go turn out the light—Atsuko's so capricious, but somehow it's fine like this. She's not all that hot and bothered right now, anyway (and besides, Atsuko's got plenty of time to change her mind and it's not as if they don't have the morning), and sliding back into bed and into her strong arms and burying her head in Atsuko's chest feels so…nice.

"Goodnight, Muro-chin."

"Night, Atsuko."

Yeah, she could get used to this pretty quickly.

367. First Kiss (Miyaji Kiyoshi/Himuro Tatsuya) for anon

He shouldn't have lifted his damn head up so much when he knew Himuro was right next to him, and okay, he might have wanted to see his face up close, but he should have known better anyway because the moment he looks up Himuro's lips are on his.

They're soft and warm and wet and the sensation is not totally unpleasant—but it's sure as hell unwelcome and Miyaji wants to break it and run Himuro the fuck over because he didn't give him any warning but Himuro's tongue slides in his mouth and he realizes that while he's been plotting the brat's demise he's taken another mile and fuck, of course he can do that with his tongue.

368. First Kiss (Hayama Kotarou/Miyaji Kiyoshi) for anon

He is such a fucking brat, thinking he's cute with that smile when he's just way too grabby and Miyaji's too tired to keep pushing away his hands at this points and lets him hold them but leaves them limp, lets the kid drag him around to wherever the fuck he wants to go against his better judgment, tunes out that goddamn annoying voice.

"Miyaji-san, Miyaji-san!"

And then Hayama's in his face again, yanking at his hands and peppering him with too many stupid questions and he just won't shut up and Miyaji has no idea what's going on and doesn't want to, just wants to be able to catch his breath and hear himself think and Hayama's lips, blurred in the motion, become a focal point and before he knows what he's doing he leans in and places his mouth over Hayama's.

He sure as hell shuts up quickly when he wants to.

369. Domination Games (Imayoshi Shouichi/Hanamiya Makoto) for anon

Their game is delicious and Shouichi finally concedes—not because he'd naturally lose but because he's interested and because he doesn't feel like pushing Makoto more than he has to; it's easy to cede the illusion of control and let Makoto run free—Shouichi tells him often how good his ideas are; Makoto's the one who doubts his sincerity (for such a clever boy he can be awfully stupid sometimes).

The scarves are chafing his wrists but the pain is delicious and very, very worth it; Makoto is going agonizingly slow, tearing his nails into Shouichi's skin and pressing kisses and bites on top; Shouichi shudders and moans and Makoto's eyes flick back and forth from his face to his body. Shouichi spreads his legs, acting more eager than he really is; the slowness is lovely and allows the heat to build inside him, allows him to fully enjoy Makoto's touch.

"Greedy," hisses Makoto, pausing in his touches to look up at Shouichi's face again.

"Please—"

Makoto catches the teasing lilt of his voice and glares, gritting his teeth.

"Stop that."

He pins Shouichi's shoulders to the bed and kisses him bruisingly, with all the anger and pleasure he can muster. It's hard to push Makoto to this point, to where he can show his true self, his true ruthlessness, but it's like this that he's the most beautiful, when his bites draw blood in Shouichi's mouth to overpower the taste of Makoto's tongue and his fingers leave streaks on Shouichi's skin and he wrenches the flow of control from Shouichi's grasp.

370. At Play (Hayama Kotarou/Miyaji Kiyoshi) for anon

It's hot in the sun; all the shady benches have been taken by the wise parents and nannies out with their children. Kiyoshi sighs and wipes the sweat off his neck. Kotarou had insisted and their son had clung to him and here they are—what kind of family outing is this? He's kind of awkward in situations like this; he doesn't really want to play in the sandbox with them and they look like they're having lots of fun without him; he doesn't really need to watch them, either—as childish as Kotarou can be he's actually quite responsible and careful with the kid. It's cute seeing them like this, though, even if it's from far away.

Kiyoshi sighs, clising his eyes and stretching out. He should have brought a newspaper or something.

"Kiyoshi!"

And Kotarou's in his face; a matching set of snaggletoothed grins stare up at him and he smiles back.

"Hey, you two. Having fun?"

"We'd have more with you," says Kotarou, depositing their son on his lap and sitting down on the bench next to him, looping his arm through Kiyoshi's.

"Play with us next time, okay?" The kid stares up at him. "Please?"

"Sure thing, Kiddo," he says.

It's too hot to be this close but he lets them anyway. It can't hurt just this once.

371. Your Quiet (Liu Wei/Fukui Kensuke) for anon

It's better when Fukui shuts up—occasionally he'll have something interesting or important to say but that's such a small percentage of the words that pass through his lips that it might as well be zero; it's pure coincidence at this point. When he's quiet, when they're walking through the hall together or they exchange glances across the room or when Liu's tongue is down Fukui's throat or when they're sitting together and studying (well, before Fukui decides to start talking again about his latest brilliant plan) or when they're playing basketball and Fukui throws Liu a perfect alley-oop pass—those are the best moments. It's hard to tell him to just shut up; it never works and then he goes off on a tangent about how Liu is a disrespectful kouhai, but he's been better lately about getting Liu's hints and they've spent considerably more time without talking. It's probably the best it's ever going to get, and Liu's okay with that.

372. In Death (Kagami Taiga/Himuro Tatsuya) for anon

The room is too quiet, stale like old bread that's been left in a plastic bag for a week and the sound of his own breathing and of the machines bounces off the walls and amplifies back in Taiga's ears. Tatsuya lies still on the bed; even in death he is incredibly beautiful—even when they're about to harvest his organs and pull the plug he looks as if his eyes could flutter open and he could smile warm and open at Taiga once again, a smile that has only begun to grace his lips again lately, that Taiga hasn't seen very often since they were kids. It's not fair; it's not fair that death pulls Tatsuya away from him almost as soon as he's gotten Tatsuya back from his inner demons; it's not fair that he looks so real and alive; it's not fair that Taiga never got a proper chance at goodbye, that he'd left him with but a kiss on the cheek before his flight to the next city for a road game, that it had been nearly a week since they saw each other.

He is wearing the necklace still; they left it on him, the ring at the end of the tarnished chain, and it's almost too painful to look at. This is it; this is the final goodbye—Tatsuya's parents had arranged it with the hospital staff to wait until he arrived; there's not much time. The silence makes it even more dreamlike; he almost convinces himself that there was no brain aneurysm and that Tatsuya's going to be okay. He strokes the soft black hair with one hand; Tatsuya does not stir.

"Tatsuya…" his voice is too loud in this room. He needs to get out—but no, he needs to stay, with Tatsuya.

He leans down to press a kiss on the cool forehead. There isn't time to re-memorize all the contours of his body, to see it all one more time.

"I'm sorry." His voice cracks. "And I forgive you."

For leaving the bread box open, for being late, for being selfish, for hating himself so fiercely for so long, for dying—Taiga knows himself too well to say he won't be mad about this again but for now there is no room inside of him for anger.

"I love you so much."

373. Each Kiss (Nijimura Shuuzou/Himuro Tatsuya) for anon

Their first kiss is passionate and loving, burning with longing and desire, the slow sizzle in the summer heat like the air visible above the astroturf of the soccer field, shimmering; their fingers are loosely entwined and their lips fit perfectly against each other, even with the strange way Shuu's mouth curls up at the end. They pull back at the same time and their eyes meet and then their mouths come back together; they fit like cogs in a well-oiled machine, Shuu's body against his.

There are many kisses after that, lips brushing across bruised cheeks and knuckles and pressed against ears and necks; sometimes Shuu kisses him so hard and long Tatsuya thinks his mouth is getting raw but it only makes him want to kiss Shuu back more, kiss him until they're both sore and their mouths are broken, connect their bodies somehow until they explode. There are quiet kisses under stars and basketball hoops in the park, quick ones when they duck under a doorframe in school, Tatsuya's mouth pressing up against Shuu's shoulder when he's asleep, Shuu kissing him awake in the morning before either of them can properly register the grossness of their morning breath.

And then there is the last kiss; Tatsuya's in line for airport security and his feet are bare on the airport carpet because he forgot his socks and he constantly shifts his weight; there's something vulnerable, a different kind of rawness, on Shuu's usually-angry face and he reaches out his hand; it weighs down like an ocean on Tatsuya's shoulder. Their farewell is wordless and Shuu's soft lips pressing against his forehead are cruelly sweet.

374. Expectation (Hayama Kotarou/fem!Miyaji Kiyoshi) for anon

"You can go grocery shopping by yourself. It's a simple task; you've done it before."

"But I want to go with Kiyomi-san."

"Why? Shopping isn't a damn group activity."

"Don't swear, Kiyomi-san. The baby can hear you."

"Shut the fuck up. It's not like the kid can understand and it's not like its first word's going to be a swear or anything."

She tries to gather her hair off her neck but all she gets is Kotarou shoving himself against her side.

"Please? I want to spend time with you."

"We can spend time together later, after you've gotten the groceries."

"Why can't we get them together?"

"Because I look like a fucking whale and I can't walk fast enough and I look fucking weird when I do it and I'm too damn tired."

"You look beautiful," Kotarou says. "You're pregnant so you're supposed to look different and it's good, not that you didn't look gorgeous before, and we can take as long as you need to and spend more time together."

"You're supposed to tell me I glow or something."

"Kiyomi-san always glows."

She pushes herself off the couch into an awkward standing position, envying the easy way Kotarou pops up. "Is that a yes?"

"No, Idiot. I have to pee. It's a maybe."

Speaking of glowing, he looks absolutely overjoyed.

375. Space Fighters (Imayoshi Shouichi/Hanamiya Makoto) for crimsontentacles

"You could make more money if you bothered to fix your damn ship and be a real pirate," Makoto grumbles.

Shouichi pulls him closer and smirks. One of these days he'll tell Makoto he's taking pay cuts and skimping on repairs just so they can stay close to each other—the look on Makoto's face will be so worth it.

376. Lazy (Akashi Seijuurou/Himuro Tatsuya) for redbikeprince

It's six or somewhere close to that; Seijuurou can make a good estimate from the evening light but there's no clock in view and his phone is in his backpack in the kitchen. It would be nice if it was a bomb that blew up all of their homework and then he'd have a legitimate excuse (somehow Tatsuya always manages to smooth things over with the teachers; it must be his sleepy prettiness that complements the slouch in his walk so well). They're only half-dressed still; all this messing around in bed hasn't really gotten anywhere but what's the fun in actually reaching your destination when there are so many lovely distractions along the way?

Tatsuya runs his fingers up Seijuurou's rib cage and Seijuurou sighs; Tatsuya's fingertips are bliss, cool and always probing at Seijuurou's most sensitive spots. He has a gift for that sort of thing; Seijuurou would tell him but his mouth is too busy responding to the touches. This angle of the near-dusk sunlight makes the shadows of Tatsuya's lashes on his cheek seem larger and longer than ever, like some kind of grey birthmark or something. He feels Tatsuya's phone vibrate against his leg; Tatsuya sighs and reaches down to silence it and then throws it across the room.

"Probably my coach yelling at me for skipping practice."

Yes, Tatsuya plays basketball; he's gotten some lovely lean muscles out of it even if he skips practice a lot because at this point he's probably never going to be good enough to break the starting lineup; sometimes Seijuurou wonders how good he'd have gotten if he'd worked at it from day one—but this musing never really gets past the realization that he and Seijuurou probably wouldn't have met if that had been the case. And this Tatsuya, the one he has in front of him, the one whose slim fingers are playing with the waistband of his jeans, the one who certainly isn't flawless but whose flaws fit comfortably enough around Seijuurou that he doesn't feel like moving.

377. Convention (Furuhashi Koujirou/Aida Riko) for anon

He'd somehow convinced her to do a group Ouran High School Host Club cosplay except there's no one in the group except for them and it's never going to work with just a Haruhi and a Hikaru. Besides, he's only using Hikaru as a disguise to make fun of her chest size and as the day wears on her patience grows thinner. He tries to kiss her in front of a bunch of fangirls and she knees him in the nuts instead (the picture ends up going viral and it serves him right).

378. Demons (Haizaki Shougo/Kise Ryouta) for uneplumesombre

Shougo's horns scrape his palms but Ryouta holds on tighter anyway. it's not like he can hold onto Shougo's hair like this and he can't get a good grip on the skin of his face. Besides, it's easier to pull his head down closer and steal a kiss when Shougos distracted by the pressure of Ryouta's hands.

379. Zombie Apocalypse (Midorima Shintarou/Kise Ryouta) for anon

Midorima's aim is always true; Kise fires faster but with less accuracy; together they are invincible, and Kise has no fear. After all, if they get him Midorima will make sure his suffering ends soon, shoot him straight through the head. But in the way Midorima squeezes his hand, tight enough to break it, Kise can see he's trying to convince himself that that day will never come.

380. Freak Show (Murasakibara Atsushi/Kuroko Tetsuya) for anon

They're both freaks and they pretend not to mind; after all this is the only way they can make a living. It strikes Kuroko that Murasakibara's too smart for a job like this and is criminally underestimated, but what he's saving his knowledge for is yet unknown. Every night Murasakibara pulls him into his massive arms and Kuroko buries his face in Murasakibara's firm chest and refuses to accept the answer even when he can't ignore it.

381. Lawyers (Haizaki Shougo/Momoi Satsuki) for anon

"I'm beginning to think you're making mistakes in the contracts just so I can find them, Haizaki-kun," Momoi says.

Her smile is deadly; she can pull the floor out from under him with her intellect and mesmerize him with one flip of her hair. It doesn't occur to him that he hasn't replied until she gives him a dismissive wave and walks off.

382. Loveless (Imayoshi Shouichi/Hanamiya Makoto) for anon

Makoto looks even cuter without the extra set of ears distracting from his gorgeous face. Shouichi pushes back a lock of hair from Makoto's face and he stirs in his sleep, inhaling sharply. No matter how cute he is he's still a fighter and the reflexes always kick in—they're both doomed to a life of fighting but sometimes it doesn't seem too terrible.

383. Hospital (Nijimura Shuuzou/Haizaki Shougo) for anon

Haizaki somehow always manages to bum a smoke off of someone, even after Nijimura's taken all of the cigarettes hidden in his pocket. It pisses him off that Haizaki's deliberately flouting his authority and that he's doing this to himself and that it's against the hospital rules in the first place (doctors should practice what they preach after all), and sometimes he wonders why he cares so much. Then Haizaki gives him a genuine smile and the hammering of his heart is too loud to ignore.

384. Car (Midorima Shintarou/Murasakibara Atsushi) for anon

"No, Takao, it's not you, it's Haizaki. I know him too well to trust him anywhere near my car. Even you can't prevent 'unfortunate accidents'," Midorima says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Please, Shin-chan? I want to take him out properly and I can't rent a car."

"Go somewhere within walking distance."

"Please?"
It's very hard to say no to Takao like this. But his car is his most prized possession, his favorite means of transport, and he'd really rather have Haizaki not scratch it up or leave his crap in the glove compartment (or break open the glove compartment to stick his crap in there).

"Could I come with you?"

Takao squints at him. It's true that Midorima doesn't like Haizaki very much and usually goes out of his way to avoid spending time with him. But the car is frankly more important.

"Like a double date?"

"Yes." It leaves his mouth before he can really think this through, and by the time Takao leaves, happy, he realizes he's in deep shit. Who is he supposed to ask? Who would even say yes to him? He's aware he's not much fun, and though he has a few friends most of them are already in relationships. The only one who isn't is Murasakibara and while Midorima definitely used to feel that way about him, it was back in middle school, and he has no idea whether Murasakibara ever reciprocated his feelings. On the other hand, he's usually not one to turn down a free meal, especially at a nice restaurant downtown.

(-)

He'd neglected to mention that it was a double date, but Takao's mentioned it enough times to make Murasakibara give Midorima a look that he's not sure he likes. At least Takao is talking with Haizaki now and they're left to their own devices in the front seat.

"I didn't know you felt that way about me, Mido-chin."

"I, uh." Shit.

Murasakibara laughs. Is he teasing him?

They reach the restaurant with no further mishaps, and a quick inspection of the car reveals that Haizaki hasn't done anything to it yet. Takao and Haizaki are holding hands and Midorima feels very awkward, conscious of the physical distance between himself and Murasakibara. Are they supposed to be acting like a couple? Then Murasakibara swoops in to break the silence.

"Hey, Mido-chin did you read that new book, Desert Lacquer?"

"Yes. I didn't think it was very well-written, but the plot was interesting."

"Hmm. I liked it," he declares.

The rest of dinner is quite pleasant, arguing over books while Tkao nd Haizaki do their own thing—it's like they're in their own little world, almost. Murasakibara doesn't even eat his usual gargantuan amount, and Midorima can feel the heat from his knee under the table.

When they finish, Haizaki grabs Takao and says that they're going off to his apartment; Midorima never remembered it being so close but at least they've got the car to themselves. And as he's getting lost in thought Murasakibara tugs on his hand.

"Mido-chin?"

"What?"

Murasakibara plants a kiss on his mouth, squeezing his hand tighter.

"Thanks for the date. I had fun."

385. Victorian (Miyaji Kiyoshi/Takao Kazunari) for anon

Miyaji's country house is old and in a state of disrepair, but there are advantages to that. Like being able to block off the door to the secret room and steal a kiss or two or twenty while the guests on the other side of the thin wall gossip about trivial things. And it means that everyone avoids the attic where they spend their nights among the dust and the moonlight and each other.

386. Brothel (Hara Kazuya/Furuhashi Koujirou) for anon

Yamazaki tells him his regular customer looks like a dead fish and Hara laughs and files it away somewhere in his brain. Truthfully, as off-putting as he is Furuhashi couldn't be more businesslike; he doesn't ask to be told pretty lies about how much Hara wants him, just rides him and bites his tongue. Insulting him probably won't get more than a raised eyebrow, but Hara does it anyway; he's pleasantly surprised when Furuhashi flips him the bird.

387. Assassins (Nijimura Shuuzou/Himuro Tatsuya) for anon

There's nothing more beautiful than Tatsuya's knife flying through the air and then disappearing somehow before hitting its target right-on; it's the kind of sleight-of-hand that Shuuzou's never had the patience to learn. He uses brute force to take out his prey, well-placed fists and short-range cuts that send blood flying everywhere. Tatsuya doesn't mind the mess, though; he'll kiss the spattered blood off of Shuuzou's lips before they can clean up.

388. Gang (Aomine Daiki/Haizaki Shougo) for anon

Haizaki does dumb shit sometimes but they all do; he seems to have worse luck and a shittier attitude, that's all. But it's up to the gang to take care of its own and Aomine finds himself cleaning off dried blood from Haizaki's skin and dressing his wounds and treating his bruises while Haizaki weakly tries to argue. Usually he shuts up if Aomine kisses him enough, though.

389. Magicians (Alexandra Garcia/Aida Riko) for anon

Alex is so much bigger, both physically and with her stage presence; it's hard even for someone as confident as Riko to not be a little bit intimidated. It's a bit harder to doubt herself when Alex's minty breath is so close to her ear and Alex's arm seems permanently attached to her waist and Alex picks her up and lets Riko wrap her legs around her waist. This is no illusion, no trick, no sleight of hand; Riko knows too much about the business to not know one when she sees it—this is real.

390. Swimming (Izuki Shun/Hyuuga Junpei) for anon

"Come on, Hyuuga, I know you want to be…deep in me."

"You did not just make a swimming sex pun."

"But you're not turned off," says Izuki, swaying his hips against Hyuuga's for emphasis.

391. Ghouls (Imayoshi Shouichi/Hanamiya Makoto) for anon

"Mako-chan, stop struggling against your ghoul side."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Shouichi could prove his point, but there's no point in bothering when it's so obvious Makoto's lying so he opts to wrap his arms around him instead (the reaction's always better).

392. Gone (Kuroko Tetsuya/Momoi Satsuki) for nagitagtgt

Just because she saw it coming doesn't make it any better. It might just make it worse, the way the last few months of their relationship were plagued and poisoned by the spectre of death, the inevitable end. What was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to do? As with everything about him, her experience and data were useless. But this wasn't a thrilling free-fall; it was a sickening crash because her parachute had failed to open.

"Satsuki-san, please," he had whispered, mouth dry from the tubes that were stuck down his throat half the time.

She had cried anyway, cries still as his ashes dissipate in the wind.

393. Should Have Had (Momoi Satsuki/Midorima Shintarou) for didsw

He's waiting by the gate when she runs up to him, breath visible in the autumn air, cheeks rosy and a smile on her face.

"Midorin!"

She hugs him around the waist; her face barely reaches his chest and she'd probably try and kiss him more often if the difference in their heights wasn't so large. Even so, she grabs on his jacket and pulls him down closer; he obliges and ducks and their lips meet. She tastes, as she usually does, of black tea and honey; her mouth is wet and warm and very pleasant. After a few seconds she pulls away.

"Your school should really have a uniform with ties. It would make things easier."

He smooths out the wrinkles from where her hand grabbed his jacket. It would definitely be neater if they did, but he's quite fond of the gakuran. He offers her his hand.

"Shall we go?"

She nods. Her face is bright and it's almost impossible not to smile back at her sometimes; her happiness is infectious and he doesn't even mind too much. It's a lot less vexing when you're not trying to stop it, anyway.

394. Insecurity (Izuki Shun/Kuroko Tetsuya) for anon

He's changed since the Winter Cup; he changed during it—there's no way for Izuki to even make a pun out of this. It just feels weak and uninspired. Whatever hope he'd had of winning Kuroko over, faint as it was (and sometimes Kuroko's words, shy smiles, soft steps, had been enough to make him feel like fainting) seems to have vanished. Kuroko seems far more keen than he did even before on hanging out with the other freshmen, on improving his game with them and with Coach, on reestablishing a connection with Ogiwara. Any spare attention he might have had for Izuki seems unavailable, locked away. It's been months since he was the only one who could see Kuroko in the shadows regularly; now he can unmask his presence at will and Izuki is irrelevant.

"Izuki-senpai? Is something wrong?"

Kuroko notices these things, too; he's oblivious to the things Izuki wants him to do and hits on the sensitive points he's trying to hide; Kuroko's that way with everyone (and Izuki, still, is not special).

Izuki shrugs. "Just cold, I guess."

The winter is bitter, and more than just a bit. The wind chafes at his skin and his sisters have stolen all of his scarves and his throat is dry and raw.

"Here," says Kuroko, pulling out a fuzzy green scarf from his coat pocket. It seems too large to have fit in there, but he wraps it around both of them.

He's gotten taller, still noticeably shorter than Izuki but tall enough so that it's not awkward to wrap the scarf around both of their necks and walk. He can't break the spell and ask the meaning of this gesture, but he'll look on the bright side this time. After all, the sun is making itself known, out from behind a building, and Kuroko is looking up at him with that know-everything grin and it's hard not to catch it and smile himself.

395. Theirs (Aomine Daiki/Murasakibara Atsushi) for anon

The apartment is always quiet when Aomine comes home; it's a welcome relief from the bustle of the police station and the walk home through the streets between the station and his home, crowded and loud even in the dead of winter. But up here on the eleventh floor they're insulated by the bricks and the removal; up here it sometimes feels almost ethereal—and that's when he knows he's had too long of a day. There isn't much about a small one-bedroom rental that's out of this world, and it's actually pretty homey.

It's only that way because they've made it theirs, though, and thinking about that makes Aomine smile as he deposits his jacket in the closet. They pay the rent all on their own with the money they make from their jobs and while saving up some money for a real home is taking forever they always have a little bit left over at the end of the month, even despite Atsushi's eating habits. This place is theirs and they're here together and that's what makes it perfect and very much a part of this world, thank you very much, because everything about this is real.

With that in mind Aomine strolls into the bedroom to find Atsushi napping on the bed, curled up with an open book in front of him. That's usually how Aomine finds him, asleep on the bed or the couch, tired from his long day and too bored to wait up much longer. Aomine sits down on the bed next to him, stroking his hair. Atsushi stirs, long limbs coming slightly untangled and unfurling like springs when the tension begins to ease up. He blinks up at Aomine and then grins, reaching out to clutch Aomine's hand in his own (which dwarfs Aomine's).

"Welcome home."

"I'm home," Aomine murmurs.

Atsushi's thumb strokes across the back of his hand, a soft touch like the one he must use on pastry dough—it's astounding to think that such large, clumsy fingers (his writing is worse than a doctor's) can create such intricate things and touch so delicately. But perhaps he should have stopped being surprised by anything pertaining to Atsushi long ago.

396. Mindblowing (Miyaji Kiyoshi/fem!Hayama Kotarou) for anon

God, she is too much for him—too loud (damn kid), too fast, too pushy, and now she's sitting on top of him, pinning his arms to the bed and leaning in really close. His face, no, his entire body is heating up as she purrs his name and slides up his chest—her skirt is hiked up dangerously and if her legs went on any longer—he wants to touch them, wants to press against them and hear her whine; he's at the point where he can't even manage to scold himself for having such lewd thoughts, especially about an annoying person like her.

She finally lets go of his hands and moves bac down again; he struggles into a sitting position. He slides his hands slowly up her thighs and she yelps, clutching at his shirt.

"That feels really good, Miyaji-san…ah…"

He shouldn't be this nervous, punching and poking at her inner thighs, feeling where the slope changes—it's not like they haven't gotten farther than this before but it's always been so sloppy and rushed and for once he doesn't want to be quite as hasty.

She whines, opening her eyes and gazing into his with a faintly petulant stare.

"Just let me take my time, okay?"

"But you've already felt me there before, so I don't see why we just can't—mm,"

She closes her eyes and leans into his neck as he slips a hand into her underwear, still not touching quite the right spot. She squirms and moans; even his neck can't really muffle the sounds.

"Miyaji-san…"

"Be patient."

Her squirming in his lap has not been without its effects and he, too, is beginning to feel the urgency—his hips are moving on their own and he still wants to take it slowly but it's proving more and more difficult to follow his own directions. She's so hot and wet; he slowly inserts a finger inside of her and she whines again, biting his neck.

"More."

"Wait a second."

He adds another finger and this time she moans deep and low, rocking her hips against him. He slides his thumb upwards against her clit. She sighs, tightening her grip around his shoulders even farther.

"Just relax, okay?"

"But it feels so good, Miyaji-san."

Damn it. With her hair messed up and her shirt half-unbuttoned like that, the way she sighs and the closeness of their bodies, he doesn't know how long he can make this last. She clenches around his hand, squirms against him—it's too fucking much. He withdraws his hand.

She glares at him.

"Meanie."

He rolls his eyes, wipes his hand on his pants, and digs around in his pocket for a condom. She huffs and drops off his lap, and a few seconds later begins to play with the button on his jeans. She's too good with her hands, way too good, rubbing him through his clothes and it feels so damn good. Of course, she tires of this soon enough and unzips his pants, pulling his cock out of his underwear, eyes gleaming. (God, her hands are wonderful.)

He fumbles with the condom for a minute before unrolling it properly; her eyes on the action make him fumble even more. Eventually, he gets it on and then she moves back between his legs.

She settles herself slowly, lowering herself down on top of him, tight but not uncomfortable around him. He sighs. Damn, this is nice; he's still relishing the feeling when she begins to jerk her hips forward. They moan together; the friction is amazing and it only spurs her on to ride him harder; she steadies herself at a mind-blowingly fast pace and he can only be led on by her motions. But goddamn it feels so good.

397. First Date (Nijimura Shuuzou/Himuro Tatsuya) for bunnyhips

It's not a very nice day, wind blowing the constant drizzle into their faces along with the sand and sea spray when they're out on the beach—the one advantage is the lack of people (this is the emptiest Shuuzou's ever seen this beach, and while he's only lived here for a few months during the height of the tourism season that makes the contrast all the more stark—the only ones here besides themselves are a few people fishing) and it shouldn't really be discounted. It's much nicer being alone with Tatsuya; he doesn't have to worry so much about speaking English or even understanding it and he can study Tatsuya as long as he wants to and he can command more of Tatsuya's attention himself. And they can hold hands; Tatsuya's is a welcome warmth against the clammy feeling of the rain and the damp air.

They find a calm spot clear of the amateur fishermen and wade into the water; it's warm lapping at their shins. Tatsuya splashes him and Shuuzou splashes back; soon their soaked to the bone but it's too fun and too funny and too ridiculous that they're playing in the water when it's already raining out. The sound of their laughter echoes across the gentle roll of the waves and the empty grey skies and it only makes them laugh louder.

They stagger out of the surf and realize they have no way of drying off, no towels or drier or change of clothes, and it only makes them laugh harder, lean against each other for support as they resume their walk down the beach. The rain seems lighter, but it might have something to do with how soaked they are rather than an actual change in the weather.

They make out by the pier; Tatsuya leans against one of the mossy supports and pulls Shuuzou flush against him and their tongues and teeth are pressed together and it feels as if their lips might fuse together. Shuuzou's amenable to that, actually—he just about kisses the breath out of Tatsuya and then some, wishes he could go for more; Tatsuya looks even more gorgeous than his ridiculously high baseline with his face flushed and lips parted and eye half-lidded with those gorgeous eyelashes even more prominent.

They're tired and kind of cold as they walk back, so they end up going to Starbucks for lattes and talking about basketball and school and their families and the people around them and whatever comes to mind and something warm and decidedly unrelated to caffeine settles in Shuuzou's stomach. This is a kind of tangible happiness that he hasn't felt in a while, and from the look on Tatsuya's face (and what he knows of Tatsuya) he feels that way, too. He puts his hand on Tatsuya's knee under the table and Tatsuya grins wider than Shuuzou's ever seen and his heart catches in his throat and he silently pleads with whatever powers that be to please make this moment last just a little bit longer.

398. Mind Games (Hanamiya Makoto/Mibuchi Reo) for anon

There's a certain note in Makoto's voice when he's lying, something he insists isn't there. But if Reo's making it up, then why does Makoto scowl and turn away every time Reo calls him on his lies? Why does he keep trying to slightly mask it in his tone? Why does he throw random lies out there just to see if Reo can catch him? And yet Reo will never tire of the way Makoto pouts his lips and crosses his arms—very childish but endearing and attractive nonetheless. And maybe it's all a ploy to get Reo to kiss him the way he wants to be kissed without asking for it or going for it himself (as if by holding out he has some kind of upper hand) but Reo enjoys it thoroughly, so maybe they both win this way.

399. Tulips (Mibuchi Reo/Sakurai Ryou)

Ryou paints tulips every morning before breakfast, buys a bouquet every week in the winter and comes home with an obstinate expression to go with it even though Reo's never complained about the cost (they're short on cash but they can spare that much, and in the realm of Ryou's art supplies it's much cheaper than most things anyway). It's nice having bright colors in the dull kitchen, even when they're drooping and shedding at the end of the week (and after all, those are the ones that make the most beautiful paintings, the stark off-white of the kitchen counter against the pinks and reds of the scattered petals).

He sells the paintings for less than they're worth, less than the cost of supplies sometimes, but it's what he can get for them. If Reo was an art dealer—but he's not, and he doesn't know anyone who is; his friends are just as solidly lower-middle-class as he is. Still, there's something about the harsh glow of the artificial light source captured on a winter morning and the cool dawns of late spring casting their deep shadows on the stems and the constant presence of the small vase Ryou keeps the tulips in, something about the different greens that capture the same stems—something that keeps him from giving it up, keeps Reo from even suggesting it, as impractical as it is to continue.

400. Focusing (Imayoshi Shouichi/Mibuchi Reo/Takao Kazunari) for crimsontentacles

Reo's always had a weakness for delicate-seeming things that really aren't that way at all, well-tempered plastic that shines like glass and the solid inlaid diamonds on a pendant and even people (and as he's grown taller and stronger and smarter more of them seem breakable—not that he would try to do it with his fingers or even with his mind).

Imayoshi fits that description, slender and creeping like a daddy-long-legs, tapered fingers and bony wrists and horrible smile and closed eyes that see right through Reo—so, for that matter, does Takao, small body possessing perhaps more strength than Reo's and eyes keener than they have any right to be. Against one of them Reo would be close to helpless, but with Takao seeing his every movement and Imayoshi almost reading his mind and both of them focusing on him he doesn't stand a chance.

Imayoshi hooks a long arm around his waist (through the thin fabric of his shirt Reo can feel the contours of his muscles) and croons Reo's name softly in his ear and Takao puts a hand on Reo's other shoulder, fingertips grazing Reo's skin, and kisses his neck.

"I'm yours," Reo murmurs (although they probably already know that).

And Imayoshi reaches under his shirt and Takao's lips slide toward his lips and Reo's already so far gone he can barely hold onto them.

401. Management (Aomine Daiki/Himuro Tatsuya) for partyinwesteros

On the morning of the sixteenth Aomine walks into the office to find an unfamiliar, very beautiful stranger chatting with the receptionist, Nishioka. Aomine raises his eyebrows and Nishioka pauses in the conversation with his guest to gesture toward him.

"Himuro-san, this is one of them."

One of whom? Aomine is a bit wary of being included in some unknown group of people, but nonetheless he bows to the stranger and introduces himself.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Himuro," says the stranger, ghosts of a very polished smile touching his lips. "I'll be your new manager starting today."

Aomine tries very hard to not show his surprise. Come to think of it, they'd been sending him e-mails with something about a new manager in the subject line (he'd just never bothered to read them and assumed they'd been meant for another department). There's nothing more to say to this guy, though (and he's attractive to an off-putting degree) so Aomine bolts to his cubicle. Well, things might get a little bit interesting depending on how often he crosses paths with this Himuro guy.

(-)

All other things aside, Himuro's actually a competent manager (Aomine never remembers the office being this efficient), and although the old manager was fun to talk with in the break room (he was pretty into gravure) Himuro's not hard to approach, either (it helps that he's a huge basketball fan). He's almost overly-friendly (and scanning as many e-mails as he can find that are still in his inbox, he finds out Himuro's from Los Angeles, and Americans are supposed to be like that or something but Aomine didn't know it was actually true) and very touchy-feely, letting his tapered fingers lie on Aomine's shoulder or speaking softly to get nearer to his ear or getting Aomine's attention by grabbing his wrist (and hours later Aomine touches the spaces where his fingers were)—he's like that with everyone, but Aomine might as well enjoy it. It's not often that he gets to spend company around real beautiful people, and he might not be Mai-chan but he's more than good enough.

Or he would be, if he didn't seem to know everything. He smirks at Aomine like he already knows the lewd thoughts Aomine's thinking about him (like those fingers or that tight, round ass on his cock) and he's considering maybe telling someone. As far as Aomine knows he never has, but the possibility, however faint, however much Aomine tells himself to ignore it, is still there. And it keeps him on his toes, makes him notice Himuro all the more—and then he's sucked in again.

Sometimes when he doesn't know anyone's looking, he bites his lip and glances at the wall, as if he's looking far away through it to somewhere else. It looks deeper than homesickness and Aomine wants to get at it, figure it out—Himuro's eyes are dull and his body is tense and it almost hurts (but that would be dumb, however expressive he is). He wants to crack those layers, wants to see Himuro's real smile rather than that fake one he plasters on for all occasions. Hell, he'd settle for consciously getting that sadness because it's real and maybe it's toxic but it's still beautiful as hell.

(-)

He's sly, takes Aomine out for dinner the week of his birthday and Aomine's aware that this is pressing on the borders of their professional relationship but he honestly doesn't give a fuck because before Himuro got there he'd have left as soon as a better job came along (whenever that might happen to be). They end up talking basketball nearly the whole time, not really approaching anything romantic or even any innuendos, but there's still a shaky date-ish atmosphere around them as they walk back. They reach a street corner; there are no cars coming but Aomine stops anyway and presses his mouth to Himuro's quickly. He pulls back and Himuro is looking up at him, wonder flickering across his eyes and his entire face radiating something like surprised happiness, real happiness. He's landed a crack in the façade, maybe not too deep, but it's a damn good start.