Ten Minutes Ago
Disclaimer: Don't own either Fujimaki Tadatoshi's Kuroko no Basuke or Rodgers & Hammerstein's "Ten Minutes Ago" from Cinderella
There's something pure about the way Kise plays basketball. There's something about it that makes Kagami almost forget that it's' a competition because all he can feel around him is just the game, and everything about it-perhaps because Kise can do everything, or perhaps because Kagami feels like he can do things he can't normally do against Kise. There's no underlying motive, no undercurrent, just basketball. Even when they're playing for a bet or if the game is of a heightened importance, whether they're playing one-on-one or three-on-three or five-on-five, there's something so goddamn incredible about this thing that Kagami just needs to be in it with him. Every time he sees Kise playing with someone else, against someone else, Kagami's insides crawl and he really, really wants to be there, to be those other guys. It's not that he doesn't always want to be playing basketball (and, basically, he does, although he enjoys cooking and eating and sleeping and talking and watching TV, they just can't really compare to basketball, let's be real here) but it's like he wants to play basketball more than ever against Kise, wants that extra thrill and the glory (worth more than any win has been) of going toe-to-toe with him, step-to-step and breath-to-breath. Weakest of the Generation of Miracles, Kagami's ass. Kise can do those miracle game-breaking hack cheat moves and do them all better, smoother, sweeter than the originals.
Still, off the court he's kind of insufferable, loud and melodramatic and totally overbearing, especially for poor Kuroko (though he's definitely used to it by now, he really shouldn't have to be) and Midorima (although the bastard totally deserves it). But he's everywhere and everything at once, going from crying to ecstatic to calm to worried fast enough to give Kagami whiplash, just the way he is in basketball, and some part of Kagami (it's a small part, okay? It's a really, really tiny part) wants to be caught up in that everything, wants to move that fast, and so being around Kise when they're not playing basketball just makes Kagami cross because he can't keep up with the mood swings. And then, without fail, Kise will notice and place his arm around Kagami's shoulder (which, for some reason, makes Kagami really, really uncomfortable, more so than if anyone else does it, although he's generally not a touchy-feely kind of guy) and ask, right in his ear, breath brushing against Kagami's neck (again, very, very uncomfortable), "Kagamicchi, what's wrong?" and Kagami will stammer and stutter and blush and shove Kise away awkwardly because what the fuck else can he do?
And it's awkward and strained and weird with him, when it really shouldn't be. And why is Kise the one who adds that goddamn annoying suffix to Kagami's name? Shouldn't Kagami be the one who respects Kise? Because, okay, Kagami's beaten Kise more often than Kise's beaten Kagami but Kagami's learned a hell of a lot from Kise and there's no way Kise can enjoy watching Kagami play, no way Kise can enjoy playing on the same court as Kagami, there's no way he can get as much out of Kagami's game as Kagami gets out of his. It's impossible. But Kagami can't communicate that, he just freezes up when they're not playing. Kagami gets the feeling that it amuses and baffles Kise, but everyone else seems even more amused. Even Kuroko, who seems like a crash-test dummy sometimes he displays so little emotional range, just nods and almost kinda smiles at Kise and Kagami, doesn't tell Kise to please get off you're bothering him in that quiet, uber-polite but totally deadly Kuroko way. He lets it happen, the way Himuro does (but that's more predictable, or maybe Kagami's just known the guy longer) but Himuro's got a wider smile on his face and always hurries off with some weird excuse like he has to go buy brownies for his cat (are pets allowed in the Yosen dorms? Does Himuro even like cats?) or something like that. Aomine doesn't want to let it happen, karate chops the both of them and drags Kise off to play one-on-one with him or to go buy something with this odd kind of blush on his face and all Kagami can think of or say is, "What the hell is going on with you people?" But they just give him that look and tell him he's an idiot, which everyone does all the time so it doesn't really solve anything.
But it finally hits Kagami and he doesn't know how long it's been there but Kise has jumped him once again and his heart is ready to beat right out of his chest and run away from him it's going so fast, and Aomine hits them and drags Kise off ("But I wanted to talk to Kagamicchi! Aominecchi, you're so unreasonable and mean…") and Alex comes out of nowhere (has she picked up some of Kuroko's annoying, uncanny ninja moves?) and pats him on the shoulder.
"I can't believe you're growing up so fast, Taiga…" she says, half-serious and half-joking and Kagami doesn't know what she's on about at first and is about to reflexively squawk back something about not being cagey, damn it, and what is going on with all of you people but then it hits him.
He sinks to his knees, head in his hands, and whispers, "Fuck…"
Because it's not supposed to be like this. He can't fall in love, especially not with a guy, and especially not with this guy, because it's only supposed to be basketball for him, that's what everyone's always told him, that he's a basketball idiot and he honestly wonders some days if he's a functional savant living on his love for the game, because it's what makes him tick and occupies his thoughts even if he's not playing or watching or listening or talking or doing anything strictly basketball-related, because when he dreams he dreams of basketballs flying through the air and through nets and his hands on the orange and black and his feet pounding the hardwood and the sweat on his skin and clogged-up air, but lately his dreams have been filled with graceful fingers catching his passes, always the same fingers connected to hands and muscled arms and a body of taut muscle and it's the same body with the same head and the same eyes glowing at him, gleaming with the thrill of competition, thriving on the game, and he shoots the ball every which way but it's a shitty facsimile of the actual thing, because Kagami wakes up and he knows the movements are too jerky and he hasn't memorized them or seen them enough and the only things he can think are Kise, Kise, Kise, when can I see him, when can I watch him play, when can we play together? It's not an abstract of basketball, basketball, now anymore; his plans and dreams have a purpose and a person and fuck, fuck, fuck, why is it him?
He's so absorbed in his own thoughts and his inner turmoil that he doesn't notice the footsteps approaching, barely notices the light touch on the top of his head, but somehow it registers and he turns upward and there's Kise, who seems to have discarded his jacket somewhere (probably slipped out of it and left Aomine holding onto it) and is spinning a basketball on his left index finger. "Are you ready, Kagamicchi?"
And Kagami's speechless because once he's realized his feelings they've all come flooding into him and damn Kise looks good, those cheekbones, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. But Kise drops the ball and he can't help but catch it, can't help but stand up and start dribbling even though there's no hoop right where they are and where the fuck did Alex go, anyway? Kagami turns around but he can't see anyone, and it's not like he's looking closely anyway because Kise is the only one who really matters right now in the scheme of things. Kagami checks the ball back to Kise, and Kise holds it again, at his waist, stares frankly and unashamedly into Kagami's eyes and Kagami can feel the heat rushing into his face, the blood pumping wildly in his ears.
And in that moment, Kise sees everything, and just as quickly he tosses the ball back to Kagami, and again the reflexes reach out and let him grab the ball in midair. And as his fingers extend and then curl around the mass, his eyes widen because he sees everything, and again he passes the ball back without having time to really hold it, and back and forth they go. This must look ridiculous, two guys just standing there in their school uniforms passing a basketball back and forth without breaking eye contact, but it's really the most intimate thing Kagami's ever done (he doesn't know about Kise—what kind of weird modeling stuff does he actually do? Kagami doesn't want to think about that, anyway, doesn't want to think about Kise doing anything with anybody else because he so badly wants Kise to be his) and he's sweating more than he does after the hardest workout and finally, Kise redirects the pass so the ball skitters away.
"Kagamicchi," he says, holding out one hand, leaving the other to dangle by his side. "Kagamicchi, I love you."
And if Kagami was blushing before, he really is now, face the same shade as his hair and eyes he's all too sure, all too conscious of their public location, but he will not let this freeze him up so he does not blink and clasps Kise's hand in his own, drawing closer, in two small strides he's there.
Their eyes are level with one another, square, and which one kisses the other? It's impossible to tell, heads leaning to the sides (although it's definitely Kagami who cups Kise's head with his other hand because that's what he's seen in movies and soap operas that his mother left playing on the TV when she forgot to turn it off) and lips meeting, Kise's soft and Kagami's chapped and dry and tasting strangely of cinnamon and oh, this is wonderful, it's almost like he's dunked on Shaq or something he feels so on fire.
"I love you, too," Kagami mutters, and he feels Kise smile against him, ah, fuck, he's flying so high he's never going to come down. They're going to have to invent some kind of air basketball or something.