[drabbles] KnB

[lysapadin]

#skyfireflies
#Midorima/Takao, moving in together, establishing rules, and Midorima the control freak
#do not ask about the toilet paper incident #it was horrible all around

Once was a bit peculiar. Twice might have been a strange coincidence. Thrice suggested a pattern. When Kazunari took his next turn doing the dishes, drying them, and putting them away again, he then immediately found a reason to step out of the apartment. "I'm running to the store for a drink, you want anything?"

Shin-chan barely glanced up from the array of textbooks spread across the table. "Shiroku, please."

Kazunari laughed as he laced up his shoes and shrugged into his jacket. "I should have guessed that. All right, be back in a while." He let himself out and headed down the steps to the street, made a quick circuit of the building, and crept back up to their apartment again. He let himself in as quietly as he could, a process aided by the fact that he'd called the superintendent about the squeaky hinges in the door a week ago.

As he'd pretty much expected, Shin-chan was in the kitchen, rearranging all the dishes Kazunari had just put away. Kazunari leaned in the doorway and watched him work until Shin-chan caught a glimpse of him, started visibly, and then sputtered. "What on earth are you doing, sneaking around like that!" He had the sieve in his hands and fidgeted with it as he glared.

Kazunari thought about his prepared excuse—a forgotten wallet—and decided it wasn't worth bothering. "You know, you could have just said I was putting everything away in the wrong spots."

Bingo, he thought when Shin-chan flinched and immediately tried to pretend he had done no such thing. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Kazunari kicked his shoes off and came away from the door. Shin-chan stood his ground, at least until Kazunari lifted the sieve out of his hands and waved it right in front of his nose. "I caught you red-handed, you know." He set it down on the counter and studied the tight, uncertain line of Shin-chan's mouth. He was probably hoping this wasn't going to turn out like the toilet paper thing, which, fair enough. Kazunari really didn't want to do that again either, not least because it had been so stupid, start to finish. "Okay, so what's up with where I put the dishes?"

"Nothing," Shin-chan said, which was so deeply unconvincing that even he didn't look like he believed it. Kazunari just looked at him until he sighed and made a face. "You can't just put things anywhere they fit, it's not convenient, and everyone knows that the plates belong in the cabinet next to the sink."

Kazunari had to raise his eyebrows. "Not in my family they don't," he said, more amused than anything else. "Also, I wasn't putting things where they fit, I was putting them where I could reach them. Some of us aren't freakishly tall, remember?"

He watched Shin-chan take a breath and let it out again. "A step stool," he said, which only made sense because Kazunari was used to his logic.

"Or we could just put things where I can reach them to begin with," he countered.

Shin-chan made another face. "But some of those places really aren't convenient."

"To you," Kazunari reminded him. "They're plenty convenient for me."

Shin-chan opened his mouth, looking stubborn, and for a second there, Kazunari was pretty sure they were going to have another toilet paper argument whether they liked it or not. Then he closed it again, sighed, and shook his head. "All right, where do you want them to go?"

Kazunari sighed too, relieved, and peeled out of his jacket. "Why don't we figure that out?"

"All right," Shin-chan said, and then, "Aren't you going to hang that up?"

Kazunari laughed, more at himself than anything else—why had he assumed that getting an apartment with Shin-chan would be easy, again?—and said, "Yeah, sure thing, Shin-chan," and made sure to line his shoes up neatly while he was at it, too.

It was all about give and take, after all, wasn't it?

---

#leona-dracontis
#Midorima/Takao, bathtimes
#shameless fluff is shamelessly fluffy

"For the record," Kazunari says as he lowers himself into the steaming water, "if this ends up like last time, you're the one who cleans it up." The level of the water rises precipitously as he leans back and settles himself against Shintarou's chest, but it doesn't quite spill over the edge of the tub.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Shintarou lies while Kazunari shifts around and makes himself comfortable between his knees. Kazunari pauses and tips his head back to give him a look of frank incredulity, but Shintarou hasn't spent this long with Kazunari without learning a few things of his own, and manages to keep his expression blank.

Kazunari rolls his eyes anyway and rests his head against Shintarou's shoulder, fitting there as though made for it. "My point stands," he says. "You're on clean-up duty."

Shintarou doesn't bother with answering that; he prefers to slide his arms around Kazunari instead and spread his fingers against Kazunari's stomach, which jumps under his fingers as Kazunari chuckles. "I know how this is going to end."

Shintarou turns his face just a bit and kisses the damp skin under Kazunari's ear. "You're the one who got in the tub with me."

"Guess I did, didn't I?" Kazunari settles a little closer and smiles as he reaches a dripping hand up and strokes it through Shintarou's hair. "Oops."

He still makes Shintarou clean up after they're done, though.

---

#andreaphobia
#Tetsuna and Daiko, basketball
#moody and introspective Kurokos ahead

There's something that's very nearly magical about the way that Daiko plays basketball, like it's the one thing that she was born to do. Certainly it's the thing that comes easiest to her, the thing that brightens her eyes and makes her laugh as she dances across the court, always in perfect command of herself and the ball. Daiko blazes on the court so brightly that it's easy to get caught up in her fire.

Tetsuna can't help wanting to draw closer to Daiko, or wanting to touch some of that brilliance for herself, even though the only genius she's ever going to have for herself is the kind born of sweat and hard work. But Daiko is generous, in her own way: When Tetsuna plays with her, some of that magic rubs off on her, too—her passes sear across the court to Daiko's waiting hands and her opponents can't keep her in their sights no matter what they try. If it's not perfection it's the next closest thing.

Daiko doesn't seem to be aware of any of this; that, Tetsuna thinks, may be part of the magic itself. Certainly she doesn't seem to quite realize the effect she has on others, her opponents and her teammates or even Tetsuna herself, and throws herself into the game instead while they chase after her (even when they know how impossible it is to catch her, even when they know that to try is to court heartbreak). Daiko breathes and bleeds basketball; for her there is never anything else but basketball.

This is about basketball, too, though Tetsuna isn't entirely sure that Daiko knows it, or would really care if she did—Daiko is refreshingly straightforward, sometimes. Tetsuna imagines telling her why she pushes, sometimes, after practice, imagines explaining why she presses herself between Daiko's knees and slips her hands under Daiko's clothes to stroke the spare, strong lines of her body, barely softened by her curves—imagines saying that this way, at least, she can be sure of Daiko's attention and can hold, however briefly, some of that brilliance in her palm.

Perhaps she would laugh. Or perhaps she would simply shrug and ask what it mattered, as long as it felt good? Or perhaps she would simply say—

"You're thinking too much," Daiko complains, squirming under Tetsuna's palms and tugging at the tail of her hair. "Come on, some of us are getting old waiting."

Tetsuna doesn't smile, not really, but she does smooth her hands up Daiko's sides to cup her breasts. "My apologies," she says, softly, while Daiko makes an appreciative sound and arches into her hands. "I suppose I was."

Daiko grins at her, friendly, and pulls her close. "Long as you don't make a habit of it," she says, twisting Tetsuna's hair around her fingers. "Right now we've got better things to do, right?"

"Yes," Tetsuna says, and lets Daiko kiss her until the heat of her mouth washes all her thoughts away.

---

#majester
#apartmentverse, housekeeping
#feels everywhere

The first response any of Riko's female acquaintances gives her when she finds out that Riko lives with two boys is instant reflexive sympathy. Riko's had more classmates and friends widen their eyes at her as they purse their lips, inhale sharply enough to make their nostrils flair, and follow that up with a, "Oh, I'm so sorry," than she has fingers and toes. Some of them mean it sincerely enough; others flavor it with a dash of good humor; still others say it with a certain nasty malice.

Riko answers all of them the same way, by smiling at them and pretending not to understand: "What for?" she asks them, as cheerfully as she can manage. "So far it's worked out really well."

It's not her fault if no one ever believes her when she says that, or when she refuses to confirm that her boys are horrible slobs and as their roommate, she spends all her free time cleaning up after them.

The secret truth is this: Jun-chan and Teppei do most of the housework themselves, and if anyone has to be prodded into doing her fair share, it's Riko herself. She can't help it! Housework is boring and tedious and sometimes kind of gross, and there are so many other things she would rather spend her time doing than laundry or sweeping or making the bed. So Jun-chan does most of the cooking, and Teppei actually takes a weird satisfaction in scrubbing down the bathroom until it's gleaming, and whoever has the time free throws a load of laundry into the wash. Teppei also tends to do the vacuuming and sweeping, and if they don't keep an eye on him, has a tendency to pick up the other slack in the housekeeping, like doing the dishes if Riko doesn't get right on that or taking out the trash if she doesn't beat him to it. It's sweet, and absolutely infuriating at the same time, that Teppei still takes so much care to tread lightly and make himself useful even when he sleeps between them at night.

But that's their business, and not for anyone but them, and so Riko simply smiles when people shake their heads disbelievingly at her. "Really," she tells them, "we manage just fine together."

After all, it's the truth.

---

#skyfireflies
#Aomine/Kuroko, genderbend, period piece, Aomine is bad at being a proper lady
#fuck yeah Regency AU

Aomine remains defiantly unrepentant, even after Midorima gives her a severe set-down for it and they've had to retrieve Kise's hartshorn to revive her from her swoon—"Oh, Aominecchi, you'll never be given a voucher for Almack's now!" she'd cried, right before crumpling gracefully onto the settee—and Akashi has frowned at her for her shameful want of propriety.

Momoi is no help at all; he indulges Aomine's freaks shamelessly and thinks it a fine joke that she ordered his new matched greys put to his phaeton and took them for a turn around the park. "Why shouldn't I?" he asks when Akashi expostulates with him. "She's a better whip than I'll ever be."

"Nevertheless," Akashi says. "It is not the done thing." And that is that.

"As if I give a damn for the done thing," Aomine says later, away from the rest of them. Kuroko takes a quick breath at the profanity, and Aomine tosses her head. "Well, I don't!"

Kuroko bites her lip and turns her attention to her needlework, setting careful stitches in her embroidery. "I know you don't," she says. "But perhaps you should. You wouldn't want to be thought fast."

The sound Aomine makes then is indescribably rude; she tosses her own needlework aside and stands to take a quick turn around the room. "Fast! Oh, Tetsu, you should have been there with me. Those greys are wasted on him. It was like flying." Her eyes sparkle as she says it; her color is high, and she has never looked so fine standing up in a drawing room as she does now, still rumpled from her stolen drive.

"That may be, but it was not very proper." Kuroko can't help smiling, though, because Momoi has taken her up with him a few times and she can imagine how glorious it must have been—he does not spare any expense on his cattle, and Aomine has a deft touch at the reins. She forces herself to school her expression. "Still, one does wonder how you expect to find a husband when you insist on being such a hoyden."

Aomine makes another of those inelegant sounds and comes to sit at Kuroko's feet, heedless of the gown she is crushing into ruin. "Husbands," she said. "That's all anyone ever talks of around here." She screws up her lovely face in disgust. "As if there's any worry of that. Even Murasakibara has four thousand a year."

"I don't," Kuroko reminds her, though it does not sting so much when it is Aomine who reminds her of her impoverished status. Aomine never cares for such things, after all, and sees all her wealth as the merest means to her ends.

Aomine seizes her hand and grasps it. "You know, I've been thinking," she says then, gazing up at Kuroko. For all that her tone is light, her eyes are serious. "I have had a famous idea. What if we don't get married at all? You're my dearest friend, Tetsu, and I hate the idea of giving you up to any of your suitors. Stay with me always."

Kuroko laughs, though there is something about the way Aomine looks at her that sends a queer throb through her. "What suitors?" she asks, trying to retrieve her fingers.

Aomine holds fast. "Say you will," she says, insistent. "I have ten thousand a year; that's more than enough to keep us. We can take a house together and keep a whole stable of the best cattle. It'll be wonderful. Say you will, Tetsu, please?"

Kuroko never has been able to deny Aomine what she asks. Nevertheless. "You'll change your mind," she says, sliding her fingers from Aomine's grasp and stroking them through the unruly mess of Aomine's hair. "One of your suitors will come along with a fine pair of matched bays and turn your head completely, and you'll forget about me." Aomine does have suitors, whole flocks of them undaunted by her bold spirit (or perhaps willing to ignore such a trait in an heiress of her status).

"Never," Aomine says, staunch. "I could never." She leans into Kuroko, folding her arms across Kuroko's lap and pillowing her chin on them. "Say yes, Tetsu. For me?"

Kuroko smiles then, helplessly fond, knowing that she will never be called upon to keep her word in this. "Since you insist. Yes."

Aomine smiles like the sunrise, brilliant and sweet. "This will be perfect," she declares. "You won't regret it, Tetsu."

And despite all expectations to the contrary, Kuroko never does.

---

#daddakohoney
#TakaMido, drunk Midorima
#it was either this or crushing angst and I elected to avoid the crushing angst

Shin-chan is so self-possessed at all times that it's honestly not until he pays his tab, tries to stand up, and nearly falls flat on his face that Kazunari realizes that the alcohol has actually been hitting him pretty hard all along. He laughs, because he's a giggly drunk himself and because it's so rare to see Shin-chan in a moment of less than perfect grace, and laughs again when he has to reach out to steady Shin-chan. "Whoa," he says, delighted as Shin-chan tries to take a step and lurches where he stands. "Shin-chan, you're really drunk!"

Drunk or not, Shin-chan wouldn't be himself if he didn't immediately contradict Kazunari. "I am not." His diction is as precise as ever, maybe a little slower than usual, which is why he's gotten away with putting away so much beer without Kazunari catching on. (What? So Kazunari had assumed that Shin-chan had a liver of steel—well, why not? He's a walking miracle in every other sense, isn't he?) "I'm just fine."

He's listing about forty degrees to the left, which gives the lie to that. Kazunari pries himself out of his seat, takes a moment to find his own balance against the delightful spinning sensation that comes of a really good buzz, and discovers it just in time to hook an arm around Shin-chan's and haul him back upright. More or less upright. There's a lot of Shin-chan to keep upright, though; he settles for letting Shin-chan lean against his shoulder. They can keep each other upright, that sounds like a good plan.

"I'm fine," Shin-chan insists, while Kazunari goes about inserting himself under Shin-chan's shoulder and steering them in the direction of the exit. "I am not intoxicated in the slightest."

"Sure, Shin-chan, sure." The fact that Shin-chan can say things like that and make them sound plausible is pretty amazing; Kazunari is totally impressed. He can also feel how heavily Shin-chan is leaning on him as they make their way toward the exit, so he doesn't exactly put a lot of stock in it. "Not drunk at all. Gotcha."

"I'm not," Shin-chan insists, and continues to insist, even after they get outside and the chilly air slaps them in the face. "I would never do any so unbecoming."

"Well, I would," Kazunari announces. "And I am. So there!" He laughs again, happy to be through the end of exams and drunk with his uptight best friend.

Even though Shin-chan doesn't seem to have enough coordination left to do more than shuffle down the sidewalk with him, he manages to shove his glasses up his nose without poking himself in the eyeball. The man really does have skills. "You are ridiculous."

Kazunari leans against him and smiles up at him. "I know. Isn't it great?"

Shin-chan doesn't answer him, but that's okay. No one on the planet can make Midorima Shintarou do anything that he doesn't damn well want to do, so if he's here, it's because he wants to be. That's good enough for Kazunari, who hums to himself as they lurch along together—he's a singing drunk, too, but he can't help it if alcohol boosts his natural exuberant charm, can he? Of course not—until Shin-chan asks where they're going.

Kazunari pats the arm that is currently slung around his shoulders. "My place, of course!" It's been a while since the trains stopped running, and it's much closer to the bar than Shin-chan's place—which may or may not have been a factor in which bar Kazunari had lobbied for in the first place. Hey, he may not be a genius, but he does know how to make a cunning plan.

"Why your place?" Shin-chan asks.

It makes Kazunari laugh again, helplessly. "If you have to ask me that, are you sure you're not drunk?"

Shin-chan's blink is slow in the sodium glow of the streetlights; Kazunari's not sure that he isn't blushing, either. "I'm not drunk!" he says again, but it sounds a little forced to Kazunari.

"Of course you're not," Kazunari soothes him. "You're just helping me home because I am, right?" He waits till Shin-chan begins to nod to add, "And once we're there, we're can have sloppy drunk sex, it'll be great."

Shin-chan doesn't stop sputtering for the rest of the way home, not until Kazunari (breathless with laughing) pulls him inside and trips him onto the futon. At that point, talking about who is and isn't drunk becomes a moot point anyway.

(For the record, Shin-chan wakes up the next morning with a hell of a hangover for a guy who wasn't drunk at all.)

---

#Kidverse
#tooth-rotting fluff of the fluffiest kind

There's still a solid fifteen minutes to go before Satsuki's alarm clock is set to go off when Tetsu-kun lays a hand on her arm and nudges her awake. Six weeks ago she might have had some sharp things to say to him about that, but things have changed since then. The shock of adrenaline jolts her awake; she's sitting up and saying "Shizuka?" before it registers that Tetsu-kun is smiling, not panicking.

She slumps and exhales and thinks about saying those sharp things anyway—what on earth is Tetsu-kun doing in her bedroom at this hour, anyway? He's still tousle-haired and wearing his pyjamas, and there's just enough light coming in from the window that she can see his smile. "You want to come see this," he tells her as she's gathering breath to complain. His voice is as soft as his smile.

There must be something going on to make him think that interrupting her sleep is worth it. Shizuka hasn't been living up to her name so far, and all three of them are much more respectful of one another's need for sleep than they were just a few weeks ago. "All right, fine," she sighs, and throws the covers back.

Tetsu-kun just smiles and holds out her robe to her as she steps into her slippers; she belts it around her, yawning, as he slips back out of her room. Satsuki follows him, notices that the camera is dangling from his wrist, and starts to wonder just what it is that he's woken her for after all.

He leads her downstairs; something about the way he's careful to walk silently keeps her from asking. She tiptoes after him and stops when he pauses in the door to the living room to turn the camera on, but that's close enough to see.

She remembers, vaguely, hearing Shizuka start to cry sometime in the night, and the sound of someone else getting up to tend to her. It looks like that someone was Dai-chan this time: he's stretched out on the couch, feet hanging off the end, out cold. Shizuka is asleep on his bare chest, beneath the protective splay of his hand, and if it's not the most adorable thing Satsuki has ever seen in her life, it's close to it.

Tetsu-kun makes an adjustment to the camera and steps closer, careful not to make a sound. Satsuki covers her mouth with her hand to keep herself from giggling and giving the game away as he raises the camera and snaps several photos of the two of them, from every angle, before he retrieves a blanket from the back of the rocker and drapes it over them. Neither of them so much as stirs for that; Satsuki hopes that that's a good sign where Shizuka is concerned. Tetsu-kun retreats again; they share a glance of mutual understanding and retreat back up the stairs before Satsuki breaks down into giggles and he laughs, soft and warm. "That was adorable," she tells him.

He smiles at her. "I thought you would want to see that."

"You were right," Satsuki tells him, and slips her arm around him for a quick squeeze. "I think we'll need a print of that for the album, don't you?"

"Absolutely," he agrees, eyes gleaming with anticipated evil. "And for the wall, too."

They share another laugh at the thought of how Dai-chan is likely to react to that—then Satsuki's alarm starts to beep from her room and it's time to start the day.

(Tetsu-kun follows through on both prints, and though Dai-chan whines about it, he doesn't actually try to stop them from hanging a copy up in the living room, either.)

---

#Because I saw this piece of art, and it needed a drabble: [黒バス]落書き詰め[腐アリ] by 影山

There is a set of pictures on Midorima’s phone whose existence he will vociferously deny, at length and at volume, even when his phone is dangled in front of his nose with the incriminating pictures pulled up on the screen. Midorima has an unshakable faith in his own ability to transform reality through sheer force of will; it’s one of his defining traits.

Nevertheless, the photographs exist. There are three of them.

In the first, Takao Kazunari is fast asleep, nuzzled into the pillow he has curled his arms around. His hair falls across his face, too much a mess to be called artfully tousled, and it is limned with the sunlight that falls across the bed. He may, in fact, be drooling just a bit.

In the second, he is waking up, cracking an eye to peer through the fall of his hair. His expression is sleepy, a bit confused, but there is the beginning of a smile hovering at the corners of his mouth. (Those people who know him only on a quotidian basis might be surprised at how soft a smile it is, how private and unlike his ordinary grin.)

In the third picture, the final one and Midorima’s favorite, not that he will admit that he ever reached for his phone to take these pictures in the first place, or that he wanted to have something tangible to remember this morning (the first morning) by, Takao is smiling as he stretches out his hand towards the camera. Or perhaps he is reaching for the person who is holding the camera.

Certainly there are no more photographs to follow that one. Midorima and Takao know why, but they aren’t telling.

---

#Kuroko/Aomine/Kagami
#DP
#filthy smut ahead

Daiki straddles Tetsu, knees tucked against his chest, and presses his forehead against Tetsu's shoulder as he pants. "I can't," he says; the words rasp out of him. "I can't, it's too much, I can't do it."

Taiga presses his fingers deeper, two of them now sliding into Daiki, stroking against Tetsu's dick. Daiki's muscles ache with the stretch, sharpness that twists up his spine; he's already full, too full, this is never going to work—

Tetsu strokes his fingers against his shoulder, slow and soothing, trails them down Daiki's spine, slick with sweat, down to where Daiki is stretched open around his dick and Taiga's fingers. Daiki groans against his shoulder, shuddering as Tetsu strokes his fingers there, circling them around Taiga's fingers and his own cock. His touch is light, but every nerve Daiki has is hypersensitive right now. He shudders and gasps as Tetsu rocks his hips up, just a bit, and sensation rolls through him.

"There we go," Taiga says behind him as he sinks his fingers all the way home; his voice is relaxed. Sure. "I knew you could do it."

Daiki would answer him, tell him exactly what he thinks of that, but he can't catch enough breath to groan, not when the fullness of it is killing him. Tetsu shifts under him, again, humming low in his throat as he thrusts up into Daiki, still shallow. Daiki squeezes his eyes shut, throat dry with panting, and shudders again as Taiga moves his fingers, in and out, absolutely relentless. The feel of it crackles through him, raw and rough, somewhere on the far edge of sensation.

Tetsu circles his fingers against Daiki's entrance, slow and light; he uses the barest edge of his nails against Daiki's skin. It makes him cry out, something about the delicate sharpness there singing through him and undoing him. He sags against Tetsu, shuddering.

He can hear the smile in Tetsu's voice when he says, "I think he's ready now."

Daiki presses his face into the curve of Tetsu's throat and shudders again as Taiga slides the finger out of him. The sudden easing of the fullness inside him feels like a loss, at least until Taiga shifts closer, a hot weight against his back, and Daiki feels the head of him sliding against him, blunt and thick.

Tetsu closes a hand on his nape, holding him for it when Taiga first begins to push in. "Shh," he says as Daiki shakes against him; his voice is husky, too, strained at the edges. "Shhh, you can do this."

Daiki doesn't know whether he can, not when it's so much, both of them inside him, Taiga fitting himself against his back, mouthing the line of his shoulder, licking the slick of sweat from it and all but purring as he sinks home. "Fuck," he says against Daiki's shoulder, "fuck, it's so tight—" He leans against Daiki's back, breathing hard, and for a moment no one moves. Daiki rests against Tetsu's shoulder, barely able to track anything but the aching fullness of having their cocks inside him, both at once, too much to bear. Then Taiga shifts, rocking a little deeper, and Tetsu moans, full-throated and hungry, and they're moving, fucking him, shallow little rolls of their hips that send raw sensation rocketing through Daiki, so intense that he can't track whether it's pleasure or pain, can only let them hold him as they move against him, Tetsu's hands on his back, Taiga's hands on his chest, on his cock, palming it, another layer of sensation, the pebble on the mountainside that triggers the avalanche, the cascade of pleasure as he comes. The force of it whites out his vision, blanks every thought in his head as he arches between them, his body trying to wring down around them and held ruthlessly open. Daiki thinks he may scream with it; certainly he blacks out, because when he comes back to himself, both Tetsu and Taiga are still again, breathing hard. Taiga leans against him, panting against his shoulder, and Tetsu is smoothing his hands over every bit of them that he can reach.

"Oh my god," Daiki croaks, when he is able to speak. "Oh my fucking god."

"I told you it was a good idea," Tetsu murmurs, full of satisfaction. It's not like Daiki can argue the point anymore, so he closes his eyes and rests between them, letting them hold him.