#BUT i did think this is just a. normal hc. a common thought. think santa and clark and dc holiday specials. you understand.

[martyrbat]

anyways if anyone is curious its because im always thinking of clark kent 24/7 and saw a santa thirst trap and the im so drunnkkkk @santa post back to back and then thought about santa as a whole and how clark should hate him. then i thought about santa as a hole and how toxic messy fucks are funny 👍

[cheswirls]

hey @fucklovingmeme what a coincidence. I edited my queue bc this was scheduled for later bc. wow. i was your secret santa. how about that.

anyway,, we seem to have so many hcs in common, so i loved writing this. i hope the rest of your year is good !

-

The “good feeling” he had about this play was about to pay off in the sweetest way.

He could read these first years like a book.

Dropping the hand with three raised fingers, Kouki eyed the attempting point guard in front of him, slightly leaning off to the left, in turn making the kid balance on his right. He glanced up to see Kagami blocking off the last one and veered right, slipping past the first year and, with the rest of them all guarded by their seniors, went right for an easy layup.

He dropped back to the court, the frustrated groans of the newbies making him smile slightly. Kawahara came and knocked his shoulder, sporting his own proud grin, and the second years on the sidelines let out a few catcalls at the hopeless expressions now on the faces of their newest recruits.

A sharp whistle sounded the end of the play. Another two after ended practice itself.

Kouki looked over to see the whistle drop back onto Riko’s chest, one hand on her hip and the other clutching her clipboard. “Fine, fine,” she called. “Clearly I won’t see anything today, since some people-” she pointedly looked at Kouki and Kuroko, who had wandered up next to him, “-like to show off. We’re done for the day. Go change.”

Kuroko curls a palm around Kouki’s shoulder, his own small smile embedded on his lips. “Great play there, captain,” he muttered before wandering over to where Riko was still muttering, the second years around her beginning to disperse.

“Seriously, how to you lose one-oh-seven to forty-nine? Forty-nine! And we went almost an hour over today, which cuts into my time and ugh I do not get paid enough for this-”

“Sorry about that, coach,” Kouki called out, coming to a stop a couple feet away. Riko looked up at him and pierced him with her third true glare of the day. It’d been a long day.

“You are too much, Furi,” she told him, quite bluntly. “What the hell was that last move? I didn’t teach you that. It was perfect, too. What the hell.”

“Slide,” Kuroko told her, joining them. “It’s something new we’ve been working on.”

Riko drops her clipboard to the ground with a clang and doesn’t hesitate to squeeze Kuroko’s head between both her hands, bringing a pained expression to his face and muttered stutterings of pain. “You. Why do I even bother? It’s a weekend and my midterms are coming up, and here I am apparently useless because you coach yourselves.” She sighed then, letting her arms drop. “Not that I don’t love it. Just. We just let these first years join. I have to see what they’re capable of, y’know? You gotta give them a chance.”

“We let them have half,” Kouki muttered, then froze. A mistake.

She jabbed her pointer finger against his chest, making him flinch back. “I don’t wanna hear it!”

“At least they all seem to be normal,” a new voice called. “You don’t have to deal with any idiots this term.”

Kuroko immediately cracked up into an open palm, muffling his laughter. Kouki’s face screwed up as he watched Riko’s eyes meet Kagami’s as he wandered over.

“No. There are idiots.” She shrugged. “I’m talking to one of them.”

Kagami threw his hands up, trying to speak and failing. Harsh. Still, Kouki collapsed into giggles himself, which earned him a glare from the redhead. Well. He kinda fell into that one.

“Um, Coach Aida?”

She tipped her head, angling towards, well well, one of the first years who had wandered up. “Yes?”

“I was just wondering, well, is it true Seirin doesn’t aim for Interhigh like Fukuda was saying?”

“Hmmm.” She pursed her lips, thinking. “Yes, I suppose it is. We still try, but uh, until next season, there isn’t much of a point. They have too much of a trump over us.”

“Unless Daiki gets injured,” Kuroko muttered. Still, it’s loud enough to be an interjection, and the first year squeals and moves a few steps back, almost falling to the floor.

Immediately, Riko turns on him. “Kuroko! What have I said about scaring people?”

He raised his hands. “In my defense, some things never change.”

Kagami rolled his eyes in the background. “More like some things never improve with time.”

“Whatever.” She turned back to the kid. “In short, we fucked up a couple years ago, so our overall chances of victory over them, and entry into the interhigh competition, is very, very slim. Doesn’t mean we don’t try with all our might, but if anyone tells you not to get your hopes up, they’re doing you a favor. I think Shuutoku’s supposed to have the highest chance this year, actually.”

The first year nodded, stunned.

“Language, Riko,” Kouki hissed, eyeing her warily.

“We can’t afford to have our coach fired,” Kuroko said, voice monotone, like he honestly didn’t care. He did, but. Still.

She spun around then, slamming a foot down onto her clipboard still on the ground, and oh, yep, there’s the fourth glare of the very long weekend practice day. Right there. There it was.

“Hurry up and change,” she seethed. “I want to leave. Badly. Desperately. Please.”

That did the trick. The remaining members made their way to the locker room, leaving her to inspect the damage to the wooden clipboard.  

-

Kouki didn’t understand how it could be only October in Tokyo and yet be cold. But there he was, on the doorstep of his house, jangling his key in the lock and watching his breath appear from his mouth like fog.

When he finally gets the stupid thing to go in, he breathes out a big sigh of relief, pushing the door open and eternally grateful for the warm air he’s met with. “I’m hom-Uh . .”

He pauses in the entryway, long enough for Akashi to look up from his phone, swinging his head back behind him and meeting the other’s eyes.

He closes the door, suddenly suspicious, and kicks off his shoes. In turn, Akashi picks himself up off the couch and pockets his phone.

“Hi,” he says, a little sheepish.

Kouki stands there for another moment, calculating just how much later he got off of practice that he was supposed to, and then sighs in defeat, figuring he owed his boyfriend for waiting than getting on to him for making an impromptu trip. He wandered over into warm arms, humming in a soft greeting. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d pay you a visit.” He returned the hug, enjoying the moment while it lasted.

“How long have you been waiting?”

“A while.”

That was a different voice.

They broke apart and Kouki saw his mother in the archway to the kitchen, leaning against the wall. “Seriously Kouki, what took so long?”

“Um.” He blinked. “First year testing. Sort of.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. But it’s too late for Akashi to take a train home now, he’ll have to stay the night.”

“Uh,” Akashi began beside him, brows furrowing. Kouki already knew where this was going. One, he didn’t want to impose. Two, the trains were clearly still running, and would be for some time. He still hadn’t quite embraced the niceties of social engagements, such as this, his mother being concerned with him leaving while it was dark. So, like any good person, he took care of it.

“That’s okay. Thanks, mom,” he interrupted, giving his boyfriend a pointed look. That shut him up, and also made his mother wander back into the kitchen with a nod of her head. She called that dinner was almost ready, and Kouki led the other up to his room. He didn’t shower at school, so he at least needed to change beforehand.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Akashi muttered, trudging behind him, letting his hand be held out in front of him.

“There are some things she just won’t let you get away with,” he retorted. “I just made your impending loss of an argument come sooner, saving us all time.”

Akashi winced. “Harsh.”

Kouki ushered him inside and closed the door with his foot, letting out another -how many times was that this evening?- sigh as he stripped his shirt and edged over to his closet to grab a clean one. “Sei, what’s the point of this visit?”

“There uh, well . .” Akashi slumped his shoulders. “There isn’t. Not really.”

“Hmm.” Well, he couldn’t help that. He said as much aloud. “Okay, it’s good. Nothing we can do now. You’re kinda stuck here.” At the silence, Kouki turned to peer at him. “Not that I’m not happy. I missed you.”

Akashi’s bottom lip pursed. “Yeah. I missed you too. That’s why I’m here.”

“Aww.” He wandered closer, looping his arms around Sei’s neck. “You’re such a sap. Hey- is that my sweater?”

The soft smile on Akashi’s face froze. “Um. Yes. That’s why I came -to return it.”

“Liar.” Kouki sniffed. “It’s okay, you’ll probably leave with another.”

“Well, if I have permission-”

“You don’t-”

“Okay okay,” he laughed. “Sorry.”

He scrunched his nose. “It even looks better on you than it does me. How is that fair?”

A blush decorates Akashi’s cheeks. He’s suddenly aware Kouki’s arms are still around him. “T-Thank you.”

“Oh? That’s unusual.” Kouki smiles. “For you to stutter.”

“Well-” Akashi’s protests die as he gets kissed on the nose, softly. He feels an impending breath leave, and his eyes widen, slightly.

It comes back as a voice yells at them from down the stairs.

Kouki’s lids lower in exasperation, and he separates from Akashi. “Oh well. Come on.”

As they depart for the kitchen, he couldn’t help but send a silent, mental word of thanks to Riko for letting them have the day off tomorrow.