Five Times Murasakibara Kissed Midorima (and one time Midorima kisses Murasakibara)
Disclaimer: Don't own.
They were first drawn to one another unconsciously, like bonded molecules or a radio station to static. Somewhere along the line, it was bound to happen. Sure, they had things in common. They went to the same middle school, were in the basketball club together, both got good grades, both were exceptionally tall (even for the basketball team, especially for first year middle schoolers). But it had happened somewhere along the line, that they began to talk sometimes, and sit, sometimes. They'd find themselves in the other's classroom for lunch, with no real reason why, just a shrug in reply to anyone who asked.
"Mido-chin."
"Mm." He flipped the page of his textbook. Physics was boring.
A long, bony finger tilted his chin up from the book and hungry violet eyes stared back into his. He had clearly picked up a lot from hanging around Akashi too much. The resemblance was in some ways uncanny, but there was still something gentler about it. There was want in his eyes, yes, but it was not vicious or planned. It was directionless, bottomless want. Murasakibara leaned forward and kissed Midorima.
It was rather sloppy; Murasakibara clearly had no clue what he was doing. It was slobbery, like he was trying to eat Midorima's face (although one could never really tell with Murasakibara). Still, Miodorima found it rather hard to pull away, and it was like his brain had been overloaded and crashed and he just kind of sat there.
Murasakibara finally pulled back, frowning. "That was supposed to go differently," he said.
Both were then silent except for the sound of their heavy breathing. Midorima's face was flushed a deep red like a ripe strawberry (with his hair on top, that made quite a delicious picture). Neither was sure quite what to do. Murasakibara's hand was still placed underneath Midorima's chin. His eyes are clouded even more with hunger and lust and confusion.
There were a million things Midorima could have done right then. He could have run away, or buried his face in his hands. He could have shouted, "What do you mean, differently?" But before he could do anything, Murasakibara spoke again.
"But it was good." And he stood up and strode out of the room, leaving his empty bento box and tons of questions in his wake. At least they'd been alone in the classroom.
They went harder than usual in practice that day, something about the weather and the restlessness of not having a game for so long, and the general testiness with one another, dunking on one another, offense blowing past defense, defense putting up ridiculous jumping blocks and finding the perfect moment to steal the ball back. Pretty much everyone had already left, but Midorima took longer in the shower, making sure to use a lot of yesterday's lucky fruit-scented body wash. There seemed to be layers of grime underneath the normal grime, a disgustingness that refused to come off. But he resigned himself to the fact that these showers were kind of shitty and had no water pressure and he was never going to get this feeling off here even if he used the whole bottle of body wash. Midorima sighed and turned off the faucet. Wasting water was bad, anyway. He wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped into the locker room.
No one was to be seen, although the lights were still on and a bunch of lockers had been left open. Midorima couldn't tell if there were bags and stuff left in them without his glasses, which were still in his schoolbag. He made his way over to his locker and opened it, grabbing his school uniform and an extra towel to put on his hair so it wouldn't drip. He got dressed slowly, not feeling any rush or like he had to catch up with anyone. He grabbed his glasses (using his right hand, of course) and his bag and folded up his practice clothes to put back in the locker.
He turned around and came face-to-face with Murasakibara. Midorima felt his face heat up involuntarily. How long had that guy been standing there? Had he been creeping on Midorima and watching him change? Slowly, Murasakibara raised his hands and plunked them down on Midorima's head. Oh, yeah, the towel. He had forgotten to remove it. Carefully, Murasakibara rubbed the towel over Midorima's hair, drying it thoroughly. When he was done, however, he did not lift his hands.
The weight was not entirely unwelcome, although Midorima felt like his head was akin to a basketball. He tilted his head up, water still dripping a little from his bangs down his face and catching on his eyelashes. Murasakibara looked back at him with an expression Midorima wasn't sure how to name. Awestruck, maybe? But at what? Slowly, he leaned in, and this time Midorima was ready for it. This kiss was better, less slobbery. Their mouths both remained closed, but they stayed in place for a while, just like that.
Then Midorima remembered where they were and pulled away. "Murasakibara!" he hissed.
A flash of what was most definitely hurt came over Murasakibara's eyes. Shit. "Is anyone else still here?"
Murasakibara shook his head slowly. Midorima sighed and rested his head on Murasakibara's chest, and they stayed in this position for a while, too.
They'd decided to take a break from basketball over Golden Week, and Murasakibara's family had gone on vacation. It was probably a good idea on his parents' part, because having so many kids in a relatively small apartment would make anyone long for the country, and thus they went out to a rented house by the seashore. Murasakibara sent Midorima random text messages and pictures of seashells and potato chips and other assorted things (one might have called them adorable, had one not been Midorima) and Midorima practiced shooting and did his homework and mostly just lay around the house because Oha-Asa was on break, too, and he didn't want to go outside without fair warning if he didn't have to.
But the days passed fairly quickly, and Murasakibara finally got back a day before the break was over. He texted Midorima that he was back and that they should meet up. It was strange how much more talkative the both of them got from behind a screen and a wireless network.
They met by a particular maple tree in the park, the one with all the mosses and lichens growing on the trunk and the branches that on a dark winter night could look like ghost arms. Midorima got there first, noticed Murasakibara walking toward him (how could he not?), but had no idea what to do.
Murasakibara grabbed him and squeezed him so hard Midorima thought he might break a rib, and then suddenly he was released as Murasakibara buried his face in Midorima's hair, breathing in the scent of Midorima's drug store shampoo, and Midorima could feel both of their heartbeats thundering erratically. Just when he thought he'd got a hold on his breath, Murasakibara kissed him deeply and so hungry, like he'd spent months on a deserted island with nothing to eat but leaves and grass and Midorima's mouth was a strawberry shortcake. They shoved their tongues roughly together, Midorima unable to resist the contagion of want.
Murasakibara leaned over Midorima's shoulder and took a large lick of Midorima's ice cream. As it wasn't Midorima's favourite food and Kise had paid for it, he had no problem with it and took a lick of his own afterward. But Kise himself gasped.
"Murasakibaracchi! Midorimacchi! That's an indirect kiss!"
Murasakibara turned to face Kise and gave him a very puzzled look.
Kise was waving his hands, for some reason very excited. "He licked it and then you licked it, and then he licked it again! It's a kiss! Now you have to marry Midorimacchi to protect his virtue!"
Midorima turned bright red. "My what now?"
"Your virtue!" Kise sighed dramatically. "He's taken your innocence! Your purity! Your first—"
"For your information, I've already had my first kiss," Midorima said stiffly.
"Ooh!" Kise's eyes gleamed. "Who is it, who is it? Tell me!" he whined, tugging on Midorima's arm.
Midorima rolled his eyes. "It's none of your damn business."
Aomine laughed. "You're lying, Midorima. There's no way anyone would kiss you."
"Hey, Aomine-kun, that's really rude!" Momoi said, arms crossed. And so it devolved, as their conversations did so many of these days, into a free-for-all argument.
Murasakibara looked down thoughtfully. "Does this mean Mido-chin will be my bride?"
Midorima flushed even redder. "Yeah, whatever," he muttered under his breath.
But Murasakibara heard, although no one else did, as they were too busy fighting amongst themselves. They couldn't figure out why Midorima was still so embarrassed (the subject of their argument had long since changed from Midorima's virtue to other, random things) or why Murasakibara looked ridiculously pleased with himself and was practically skipping down the street.
It was completely ridiculous (but completely fitting) that the most intimate moment they shared was when Midorima had decided that he would have some of Murasakibara's snacks. No one ever wanted to share his food with him, although he always offered. By then, it had become a sort of hollow gesture but Midorima surprised him by saying yes. It gave a kind of feverish, childish excitement to Murasakibara's features that was rarely seen. They were still changing in the locker room when Murasakibara started pulling food out of his bag.
"What do you want, Mido-chin? I have almond pocky, and I have potato chips…barbecue and vinegar and regular, and I have a Swiss roll, and I have lemon hi-chew…"
"Put on a shirt, first," Midorima said.
Murasakibara frowned, but surprisingly did as he was told. "So, Mido-chin? What will it be?"
Midorima wrinkled his nose. "I can't even think about eating in a place like this."
So they left together, Murasakibara pulling out more snacks from his bag and naming them as they walked. The rest of the team shrugged and went back to changing.
They exited the gym building, but kept walking until they found a ledge in an alley low enough to sit on. Murasakibara unceremoniously dumped what he'd taken out so far into Midorima's lap, and Midorima scowled. "I don't want any of this."
Murasakibara continued to rummage through his schoolbag. Did he have any room for books in there? He took out a can of coffee, a bar of dark chocolate, and a box of cheese crackers.
"I'll take the chocolate."
Murasakibara handed the bar to Midorima, and he opened it. The top was slightly melted, but he supposed it would have to do. He was pretty hungry, come to think of it. He bit off a corner, and it tasted good, sweet and a little bitter and very smooth. He was so busy concentrating on the taste of the chocolate that he didn't notice Murasakibara leaning in. Caught by surprise, he gasped and almost choked when Murasakibara kissed him.
The taste of the chocolate on Midorima's lips and tongue drove Murasakibara wild. He pushed Midorima back until they were half-lying-down, sucking and biting and licking at his mouth the whole way. They only stopped when Murasakibara realized he was crushing the snacks.
Midorima crosses the distance between them easily, steps echoing through the deserted plaza. Murasakibara does not seem to hear him, staring into the distance eating an orange, letting the sticky juice drip down his palms and onto his uniform because he just doesn't care. His back is drooping; his head is slouched; even his hair seems somehow wilted. For the past year or so he's been flying in orbit like a satellite, out of Midorima's or any other earthling's reach. And so suddenly, he's fallen back to earth and shattered himself somehow, something Midorima had both hoped against (please let him stay this way forever; he's untouchably amazing) and hoped for (please let him come back into my reach).
Midorima sits down beside him, and Murasakibara finally looks at him. It's been so long since he's really seen Midorima; they've had conversations and played together but there's always been that chasm, the one that formed when Murasakibara erupted and could only stand alone, between them. Midorima could not cross it, was afraid of trying. But now they sit on a more level plane. Midorima wonders if Murasakibara can remember (or, for that matter, wants to remember) before that time, when they were closer. But he can't be sure unless he takes a leap here, so he closes the physical distance between their mouths.
At first, there is no response. But then he opens his mouth and presses his tongue that tastes of citrus into Midorima's mouth and entangles a hand in Midorima's hair and yes, yes, he remembers.